The Tempeſt.

12

Trin. Lord, quoth he ? that a monſter ſhould be ſuch a Naturall?

Cal. Loe, loz againe: bite him to death I prethee.

Ste. Trinculo, keepe a good tongue in your head: If you prove a mutineere, the next Tree: the poore Monſter's my ſubject, and he ſhall not ſuffer indignity.

Cal. I thank my noble Lord. Wilt thou be pleas'd to hearken once againe to the ſuite I made to thee ?

Ste. Marry will I: kneele and repete it, I will fland, and so ſhall Trinculo.

Enter Ariell invisible.

Cal. As I told thee before, I am ſubject to a Tirant. A Sorcerer, that by his cunning hath cheated me Of the ſland.

Ariell. Thou lyeft.

Cal. Thou lyeft, thou jeſting Monkey thou : I would my valiant Maſter would deſtroy thee. I do not lye.

Ste. Trinculo, if you trouble him any more in's tale, By this hand, I will ſupplant ſome of your teeth.

Trin. Why, I aſſed nothing.

Ste. Mum then, and no more : proceed.

Cal. I lay by Sorcery he got this ſle From me, he got it. If thy Greatneſſe will Revenge it on him, ( for I know thou dar't) But this thing dare not.

Ste. That's moſt certaine.

Cal. Thou ſhalt be Lord of it, and Ile ſerve thee.

Ste. How now ſhall this be compaſt?

Canſt thou bring me to the party?

Cal. Yea, yea my Lord, Ile yeeld him thee aſſleepe, Where thou maſt knocke a naile into his head.

Ariell. Thou lieſt, thou canſt not.

Cal. What a py'de Ninnie's this? Thou ſeurvie patch: I do beſech thy Greatneſſe give him blowes, And take his bottle from him: When that's gone, He ſhall drinke nought but brine, for Ie not ſhow him Where the quicke Trefhes are.

Ste. Trinculo, run into no further danger:

Interrupt the Monſter one word further, and by this hand, Ile turne my mercie out o'doores, and make a Stockſinſh of thee.

Trin. Why, what did I ? I did nothing : Ile goe no further off.

Ste. Didſt thou not ſay he lyed ?

Ariell. Thou lieſt.

Ste. Do I ſo ? Take thou that,

As you like this, give me the lye another time.

Trin. I did not give the lie : Out o' your wittes, and hearing too?

A pox o' your bottle, this can Sacke and drinking doo : A murren on your Monſter, and the divell take your fingers.

Cal. Ha, ha, ha.

Ste. Now forward with your Tale : prethee ſland further off.

Cal. Beate him enough : after a little time

He beate him too.

Ste. Stand further : Come proceede.

Cal. Why, as I told thee, 'tis a cuitome with him Ith afternooke to ſleepe : there thou mayſt braine him, Having firſt ſeiz'd his bookes : Or with a logge Batter his skull, or paunch him with a flake, Or cut his wezand with thy knife. Remember Firſt to poſſeſſe his Bookes; for without them

Hee's but a Sot, as I am ; nor hath not One Spirit to command: they all do hate him

As rootedly as I. Burne but his Bookes, He ha's brave Vtenſils (for ſo he calles them)

Which when he ha's a houſe, hee'l decke withall.

And that moſt deeply to confider, is The beautie of his daughter : he himſelfe

Cals her a non-pareil : I never saw a woman

But onely Sycorax my Dam, and ſhe;

But ſhe as farre ſurpaſſeth Sycorax, As great'it do's leaf.

Ste. Is it ſo brave a Laffe?

Cal. I Lord, ſhe will become thy bed, I warrant, And bring thee forth brave brood.

Ste. Monſter, I will kill this man : his daughter and I will be King and Queene, ſave our Graces : and Trinculo and thy ſelfe ſhall be Vice-royes:

Doſt thou like the plot Trinculo ?

Trin. Excellent.

Ste. Give me thy hand, I am forry I beate thee: But while thou liv't good tongue in thy head.

Cal. Within this halſe houre will he be aſſleepe,

Wilt thou deſtroy him then ?

Ste. I on mine honour.

Ariell. This will I tell my Maſter.

Cal. Thou mak't me merry : I am full of pleaſure, Let us be jocund. Will you trouble the Catch

You taught me but whilele ?

Ste. At thy requeſt Monſter, I will do reaſon, And reaſon : Come on Trinculo, let us ſing.

Sings.

Flout'em, and cont'em : and skowt'em, and flout'em, Thought is free.

Cal. That's not the tune.

Ariell plaies the tune on a Tabor and Pipe.

Ste. What is this fame ?

Trin. This is the tune of our Catch, plaid by the picture of No-body.

Ste. If thou beſta man, ſhow thy ſelfe in thy likenes: If thou beſta divell, take't as thou lift.

Trin. O forgiſe me my finnes,

Ste. Hethat dyes payes all debts : I deſe thee; Mercy upon us.

Cal. Art thou affaſſard ?

Ste. No Monſter, not I.

Cal. Be not affaſſard, the ſle is full of noyſes, Sounds, and free taires, that give delight and hurt not: Sometimes a thouſand twangling Inſtruments Will hum about mine eares; and sometimes voyces, That if I then had wak'd after long ſleepe. Will make me ſleepe againe, and then in dreaming, The cloudes me thought would open, and ſhow riches Ready to drop upon me, that when I wak'd

I cride to dreame againe.

Ste. This will prove a brave kingdome to me,

Where I ſhall have my muſicke for nothing.

Cal. When Preſpero is deſtroy'd.

Ste. That ſhall be by and by:

I remember the ſtory.

Trin. The found is going away.

Let us follow it, and after do our workes.

Ste. Leade Monſter,

Wee'l follow : I would I could ſee this Taborer, He layes it on.

Trin. Wilt come ?

Ile follow Stephano.

Execuſt
Scena

The Tempest.

## Scena Tertia.

Enter Alonzo, Sebastian, Antonio, Gonzalo, Adrano, Franciaco, &c.

Gon. By'r lakin, I can goe no further, Sir; My old bonesake: here's a maze trod indeed Through forth rights and Meanders: by your patience, I needs muft reft me.

Alo. Old lord, I cannot blame thee, Who, am my felfe attach'd with wearinſe Toth'dulling of my ſpirits: fit downe, and reft: Even here I will put off my hope, and keepe it No longer for my flatterers: he is ground Whom thus we fly to find, and the Sea mockes Our fruſtrate ſearch on land: well: let him goe.

Ant. I am right glad, that he's ſo out of hope: Doe not for one repuſſe forgoe the purpofe That you reſolv'd t' effect.

Seb. The next advantage will we take throughly.

Ant. Let it be to night,

For now they are oppreſſ'd with travaile, they

Will not, nor cannot uſe ſuch viligance

As when they are feeſh.

Solennce and ſtrange Muſicke: and Proſper on the top (invifible.) Enter ſeverall ſtrange ſhapes, bringing in a Banket; and dance about it with gentle alions of ſalutations, and inviting the King, &c. to eaue, they depart.

Seb. I ſay to night: no more.

Al. What harmony is this? my good friends, harke.

Gon. Marvellons ſweet Muſicke.

Alo. Give us kind keepers, heavens: what were theſe?

Seb. A living Drollery: now I will beleeve

That there are Uricornes: that in Arabia

There is one Tree, the Phoenix throne, one Phoenix At this hour reigning there.

Ant. Ile beleeve both:

And what do's eſſe want credit, come to me And Ile be ſworne: it is true: Travellers nere did lye, Though fooles at home condemnè'em.

Gon. If in Naples

I should report this now, would they beleeve me?

If I should say I ſaw ſuch Iſlanders.

(For certes, theſe are people of the Iſland)

Who though they are of monſtrous ſhapes, yet note

Their manners are more gentle, kind then of

Our humane generation you ſhall find

Many, nay almost any.

Pro. Honeſt lord,

Thou haſt faid well: for ſome of you there prefent, Are worſe then divels.

Alo. I cannot too much muſe

Such ſhapes, ſuch geſture, and ſuch found expreſſing (Although they want the ſuſe of tongue) a kind

Of excellent dumbe diſcoursè.

Pro. Praife in departing.

Fre. They vaniſhed ſtrangely.

Seb. No matter, ſince

(mackes)

They have left their Viands behind; for we have ſto-
Wilt pleafe you taſte of what is here?

Alo. Not I.

(Boyes)

Gon. Faith Sir, you need not feare: when we were Who would beleeve that there were Mountayneeres, Dew-lapt, like Buls, whoſe throats had hanging at'em Wallets of fleſh? or that there were ſuch men

Whohe heads flood in their brefts? which now we find Each putter out of five for one, will bring us Good warrant of.

Alo. I will ſtand to, and feede,

Although my laſt, no matter, ſince I feele

The beſt is paſt: brother: my lord, the Duke,

Stand too, and doe as we.

Thunder and lightning. Enter Ariell (like a Harpe) claps his wings upon the Table, and with a quiet device the Banquet vanishes.

Ar. You are three men of finne, whom definity

That hath to inſtrument this lower world,

And what is in't: the never ſurfeited Sea,

Hath cauſ'd to belch up you; and on this Iſland,

Where man doth not inhabit, you'mongſt men,

Being moſt unfit to live: I have made you mad;

And even with ſuch like valour, men hang, and drowne

Their proper ſelves: you ſooleſ, I and my ſellowes

Are minifters of Fate, the Elements.

Of whom your ſwords are temper'd, may as well

Wound the loud winds, or with bemockt-at-Stabs

Kill the fill cloſing waters, as diminifh

One dowle that's in my plumbe: My fellow minifters

Are like-invulnereable: if you could hurt,

Your ſwords are now too maffie for your ſtrengths,

And will not be uplified: but remember

(For that's my buſineſſe to you) that you three

From Millaine did ſuſplant good Proſherò,

Expos'd unto the Sea (which hath requit it)

Him, and his innocent child: for which ſoule deed,

The Powers, delaying (not forgetting) have

Incens'd the Seas, and Shores; yea, all the Creatures

Against your peace: Thee of thy Sonne, Alonſo.

They have bereſt; and doe pronounce by me

Lingring perdition (worſe then any death

Can be at once) ſhall ſtep, by ſtep attend

You, and your wayes, whoſe wraths to guard you from,
Which here, in this moſt defolate Iſle, eſſe faſ

Vpon your heads, is nothing but hearts-forrow,

And a cleare life enſuing.

He vanishes in Thunder: then (to ſoft Muſicke.) Enter the ſhapes againe, and daunce (with mockes and mowes) and carrying out the Table.

Pro. Bravely the figure of this Harpy, haſt thou

Perform'd (my Ariel) a grace it had devouring :

Of my Inſtruction, haſt thou nothing bated

In what thou had't to ſay: ſo with good life

And obſervation ſtrange, my meaner minifters

Their ſeverall kinds have done: my high charmes worke

And theſe (mine enemies) are all knit up

In their diſtractions: they now are in my powre;

And in theſe fits, I leave them, while I viſit

Yong Perſandinand (whom they ſuſpofe is droun'd)

And his, and mine lov'd darling.

Gon. I' th name of ſomething holy, Sir, why ſtand you In this ſtrange ſtare ?

Alo. O, it is monſtrous: monſtrons :

Me thought the billowes ſpoke, and told me of it,

The winds did ſing it to me: and the Thunder

(That deepe and dreadfull Organ-Pipe) pronounc'd

The name of Proſper: it did bafe my T reſpaffe,

Therefore my Sonne i' th Ooze is bedded; and

I' le feeke him deeper then ere plummet founded,

And with him therelyle mudded,

Exit.

Seb. But one feed at a time,

Ile fight their Legions ore.

B

Ant.

The Tempest.

14

Exeunt.

**Ant.** He be thy fecond.

**Gont.** All three of them are desperate: their great guilt
(Like poyfon given to worke a great time after)
Now gins to bite the spirits; I doe befecch you
(That are of fuppler joynts) follow them fwiftly,
And binder them from what this extatick
May now provoke them to.

Ad, Follow, I pray you.

Exeunt omnes

## Atus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Enter Prospere, Ferdinand, and Miranda.

**Tro.** If I have too auferely punifh'd you,
Your compensation makes amends, for I
Have given you here, a third of mine owne life,
Or that for which I live: who, once againe
I tender to thy hand: All thy vexations
Were but my trials of thy lone, and thou
Haft ftrangely flood the reft: here, afore heaven
I ratifie this my rich gift: O Ferdinand,
Do not fmile at me, that I boaf't her off,]
For thou haft find the fire will our-ſtrip all praife
And make it halt, behind her.

Fer. I do beleeve it

Againft an Oracle.

**Pro.** Then, as my gueſt, and thine owne acquifition
Worthily purchaſt, take my daughter:
If thou doſt breake her Virgin-knot, before
All fanclimonious ceremonies may
With full and holy right, be minifted;
No sweet apſerſion ſhall the heavens let fall
To make this contract grow; but barraine hate,
Sow er-ey'd diſdaine, and diſcord ſhall beſtrew
The union of your bed, with weeds to loathly
That you ſhall hate it both: Therefore take heed,
As Hymens Lampes ſhall light you.

Fer. As I hope.

For quiet dayes, faire iffue, and long life,
With ſuch love, as'tis now the murkieſt den,
The moſt opportune place, the ſtrongſt fuggelſion,
Our worſer Genius can, ſhall never melt
Mine honor into luit, to take away
The edge of that dayes celebration,
When I ſhall thinke, or Phæbus ſteeds are founderd,
Or Night kept chain'd below.

Pro. Fairely ſpoke;

Sit then, and talke with her, ſhe is thine owne;

What **Ariel**; my induſtrious ſervant **Ariel**. Enter Ariel.

Ari. What would my potent mafler ? here I am.

**Pro.** Thou, and thy meaner ſellowes, your laſt ſervice
Did worthily performe: and I muſt uſe you
In ſuch another tricke: goe bring the rabble
(Ore whom I give thee powre) here, to this place:
Incite them to quicke motion, for I muſt
Beſtow upon the eyes of this yong couple
Some vanity of mine Art: it is my promife,
And they expect it from me.

Ari. Prefertly?

Pro. I: with a twincke.

**Ari.** Before you can ſay come, and goe,
And breathe twice; and cry, ſo, ſo:
Each one tripping on his Toe,
Will be here with mop, and mowe.
Doe you love me Maſter ? no?

**Pro.** Dearely, my delicate **Ariel**: do not approach
Till thou doſt heare me call.

Ari. Well: I conceive.

Exeunt.

**Pro.** Looke thou be true: do not give dalliance
Too much the raigne: the ſtrongest oathes, are straw
To th' fire ith' blood: be more abſtentious,
Or elle good night your vow.

Fer. I warrant you, Sir,

The white cold virgin Snow, upon my heart
Abates the ardour of my Liver.

Pro. Well.

Now come my **Ariel**, bring a Corolary,

Rather then want a ſpirit; appeare, and pertly. Soft muſick.

No tongue: all eyes: be ſilent.

Enter Iri.

**Ir.** Ceres, moſt bounteous Lady, the rich Leas
Of Wheate, Rye, Barley, Fetches, Oatcs, and Peaſe,
Thy Turphy. Mountaines, where live nibling Sheepe,
And flat Medes thetchd with Stover, them to keepe:
Thy bankes with pioned, and twilled brims,
Which ſpungy April, at thy heſt betrims;

To make cold Nimphes chaſt crownes; and thy broome-
Whofe shadow the diſmiffed Batchelor loves, (groves;

Being laſſe-lorne: thy pole-clip't vineyard:

And thy Sea-marge, ſterile, and rocke-hard,
Where thou thy ſelde doſt abyre, the Queene o'th Skie,

Whofe watry Arch, and meſtenger, am I,
Bids thee leave theſe, and with her loveraigne grace, *Inna*

Here on this graſſe-piot, in this very place
(declendi.)

To come, and ſport: here Peacockes flye amaine:

Approach, rich Ceres, her to entertaine.

Enter Ceres.

**Cer.** Haile, many coloured Meſtenger, that nege
Doſt diſobey the wife of *Iupiter*:

Who, with thy laſſron wings, upon my flowres

Diſſeet, hony drops, reſrefhing ſhowres,

And with each end of thy blew bowe doſt crowne

My bosky acres, and my unſhrub'd downe,

Rich ſcarph to my proud earth: why hath thy Queene
Summond me hither, to this ſhort graſ'd Greene?

**Ir.** A contract of true Love, to celebrate,
And ſome donation freely to eſtate
On the bleſſ'd Lovers.

**Cer.** Tell me heavenly Bowe,

If **Eunus** or her ſonne, as thou doſt know,

Doe now attend the Queene ? ſince they did plot

The meanes, that dusky **Dias**, my daugh ter got:

Her, and her blind-Boyes icandald company,
I have forſworne.

**Ir.** Of her ſociety

Be notaſraid: I met her deity

Cutting the cloudstowards *Paphes*: and her ſon

Dove-drawne with her: here thought they to have done

Some wanton charme, upon this man and maide,

Whofe vowes are, that no bed-right ſhall be paid

Till *Hymens* Torch be lighted: but in vaine,

*Marſes* hot Minion is returnd againe,

Her wafpiſh headed ſonne, has broke his arrowes,

Swears he will fhoot no more, but play with Sparrowes,
And be a boy right out.

**Cer.** Higheſt Queene of State,

Great *Iuno* comes, I know her by her gate.

**Iu.** How do's my bounteous ſifter ? goe with me
To bleſſe this twaine, that they may prosperous be,
And honor in their iffue.
They Sing.

**Iu.** Honor, riches, marriage, bleſſing,
Long continuance, and encreasing,
Hourely joyes, be still upon you,

Iuno

16

The Tempeft.

Ste. Put off that gowne (Trinculo) by this hand Ile
have that gowne.

Tri. Thy grace shall have it. (meane

Cal. The dropfie droune this foole, what doe you
To doate thus on fuch luggage ? let's alone
And doe the murther firft : if he awake,

From too to crowne hee fill our skins with pinches,
Make us ftrange ftaffes.

Ste. Be you quiet (Monſter) Miftris line, is not this
my Ierkin ? now is the Ierkin under the line : now Ier-
kin you are like to lofe your haire, and prove a bald Ierkin.

Tri. Doe, doe ; we ſtale by lyne and levell, and't
like your grace.

Ste. I thanke thee for that jeſt ; heer's a garment for't :
Wit ſhall not goe un-rewarded while I am King of this
Country : Steale by line and levell, is an excellent pafſe
of pate : there's another garment for't.

Tri. Monſter, come put fome Lime upon your fingers,
and away with the reſt.

Cal. I will have done on't : we ſhall lofe our time,
And all be turn'd to Barnacles, or to Apes
With foreheads villanous low.

Ste. Monſter, lay to your fingers : helpe to beare this
away, where my hogshead of wine is, or Ile turne you
out of my kingdome : goe to, carry this.

Tri. And this.

Ste. I, and this.

A noſe of Hunters heard. Enter divers ſpirits in ſhape
of Dags, and Honnats, hurting them about : Proſter
and Ariel fetting them on.

Pro. Hey Mountaine, hey.

Ari. Silver : there it goes, Silver.

Pro. Fury, Fury : there Tyrant, there : harke, harke.
Goe, charge my Goblins that thou grinde their joynts
With dry Convolutions, shorten up their finewes
With aged Cramps, and more pinch-fpotted make them,
Then Pard, or Cat o' Mountaine.

Ari. Harke, they rore.

Pro. Let them be hunted foundly : At this houre
Lies at my mercy all mine enemies :
Shortly ſhall all my labours end, and thou
Shalt have the ayre at freedome : for a little
Follow, and doe me ſervice.

Exeunt.

Actus Quintus, Scena Prima.

Enter Proſter (in his Magiſke robes) and Ariel.

Pro. Now do's my Project gather to a head :
My charmes cracke not : my ſpirits obey, and time
Goes upright with his carriage : how's the day ?

Ar. On the fixt houre, at which time, my lord
You faid our worke ſhould ceafe.

Pro. I did ſay ſo,
When firft I rats'd the Tempeſt : ſay my ſpirit,
How fares the King, and's followers?

Ar. Confin'd together
In the fame fashion, as you gave in charge,
Inſt as you left them, all prifoners Sir
In the Line-grave which weather-fends your Cell,
They cannot boudge till your releafe : The King,
His brother, and yours, abide all three diftraſted,
And the remainder mourning over them,
Brim full of ſorrow, and diſmay : but chiefely

Him that you term'd Sir, the good old lord Gonzalo,
His teares run downe his beard like winters drops
From eaves of reeds : your charme ſo strongly works'em
That if you now beheld them, your affections
Would become tender.

Pro. Doft thou thinke ſo, ſpirit ?

Ar. Mine would, Sir, were I humane.

Pro. And mine ſhall.

Haſt thou (which art but ayre) a touch, a feeling
Of their affiſions, and ſhall not my ſelſe,
One of their kind, that reſtill all as sharply,
Paſſion as they, be kindlier moud then thou art ?
Though with their high wrongs I am ſtrook to th'quick,
Yet, with my nobler reaſon, gainſt my fury

Doe I take part : the rarer Action is
In vertue, then in vengeance : they, being penitent,
The ſole drift of my purpofe doth extend
Not a frowne further : Goe, releaſe them Ariel,
My Charmes Ile breake, their fences Ile reſtore,
And they ſhall be themſelves.

Ar. Ile fetch them, Sir.

Pro. Ye Elves of hils, brookes, flanding lakes and
And ye, that on the lands with printleſſe foote (groves,
Doe chafe the ebbing-Neptune, and doe flie him
When he comes backe : you demy-Puppets, that
By Moone-flaſne doe the greene fowre Ringlets make,
Whereof the Ewe not bites : and you, whoſe paſtme
Is to make midnight-Muſhrumps, that rejoyce
To heare the follemne Curſewe, by w hofe ayde
(Weake Maſters though ye be) I have bedym'd
The Noone-tide Sun, call'd forth the mutenous winds,
And twixt the greene Sea, and the azur'd vault
Set roaring warre : To the dread ratling Thunder
Have I given fire, and rıſed loves ſlout Oke
With his owne Bolt : The ſtrong baff'd promontory
Have I made ſhake, and by the ſpurs pluckt up
The Pyne, and Cedar. Graves at my command
Have wak'd their ſleepers, op'd, and let'em forth
By my ſo potent Art. But this rough Magiſce
I heere abuje : and when I have requir'd
Some heavenly Muſiſce (which even now I doe)
To worke mine end upon their fences, that
This Ayry-charme is for, Ile breake my ſtaſſe,
Bury it certaine fadomes in the earth,
And deeper then did ever Plummet found
Ile drowne my booke.

Solemne muſiſke.

Heere enters Ariel before : Then Alonſo with a franticke gt-
ſure, attended by Gonzalo. Sebaitian and Antonio in
like manner attended by Adrian and Franciſco : They all
enter the circle which Proſtero had made, and there stand
charm'd : which Proſtero obſerving, yakeſt.

A follemne Ayre, and the beſt comforter,
To an unſetled fancy, Cure thy braines
(Now uſeltſe) boile within thy skull : there ſtand
For you are Spell-ſtopt.
Holy Gonzalo, Honorable man,
Mine eyes ev'n ſociable to the ſhow of thine
Fall fellowly drops : The charme diſtoves apace,
And as the morning ſteales upon the night
(Melting the darkeneſſe) ſo their rıſing fences
Begin to chace the iſnorant ſames that mantle
Their cleerer reaſon. O good Gonzalo
My true preferver, and a loyall Sir,
To him thou follow't ; I will pay thy graces
Home both in word, and deed : Moſt cruelly

Didſt

The Tempeft.

17

Did thou *Alonfo*, use me, and my daughter: Thy brother was a furtherer in the Act, Thou art pinch'd for't now *Sebastian*. Flesh, and blond, You, brother mine, that entertain'd ambition, Expell'd remorfe, and nature, whom, with *Sebastian* (Whofe inward pinches therefore are moſt strong) Would heere have kill'd your King : I doe forgive thee, Vnnaturall though thou art : their understanding Begins to ſwell, and the approaching tide Will shortly fill the reasonable ſhore That now I ſoule, and muddy : not one of them That yet looks on me, or would know me : *Arieh*, Fetch me the Hat, and Rapier in my Cell, I will diſcaſe me, and my ſelfe preſent As I was ſometime *Millaine* : quickly ſpirit, Thou hſalt ere long be free.

*Ariell ſings, and helps to attire him.*

*Where the Beefeuckſ, thereſuckſ I,*
*In a CowlAPS bell, I ſye,*
*There I cowch when Owles doe cry,*
*On the Batt's backe I doe ſye,*
*after Sommer merrily.*

*Merrily, merrily, hāll I live now,*
*Under the bloſſem that hangs on the Bow.*

*Pro.* Why that's my dainty *Ariell* : I hāll miffèe thee,
But yet thou hālt have freeſome : fo, fo, fo.
To the Kings ſhip, invifible as thou art,
There hālt thou find the Marriners aſſleepe
Under the Hatches: the Maſter and the Boat-ſwaine
Being awake, enſorce them to this place ;
And preſently, I prethee.

*Ari.* I drinke the ayre before me, and returne

Or ere your pulſe twice beate. Exit.

*Gon.* All torment, trouble, wonder, and amazement Inhabitheere : ſome heavenly power guide us Out of this ſcarefull Country.

*Pro.* Behold Sir King

The wronged Duke of *Millaine*, *Proſpero*: For more affuriance that a living Prince Do's now ſpake to thee, I embrace thy body, And to thee, and thy Company, I bid A hearty welcome.

*Alo.* Where thou beeſt he or no,
Or ſome inchanted trifle to abufe me,
(As late I have beene) I not know : thy Pulſe
Beats as of flesh, and blood : and ſince I ſaw thee,
Th'affliction of my mind amends, with which
I feare a madneſſe held me : this muſt crave
(And if this be at all) a moſt ſtrange ſtory.
Thy Dukedome I reſigne, and doe entreat
Thou pardon me my wrongs : but how ſhould *Proſpero*
Be living, and be here?

*Pro.* Firſt, noble friend,

Let me embrace thine age, whose honor cannot
Be meaſur'd, or confin'd.

*Gon.* Whether this be,
Or be not, Ile not ſweare.

*Pro.* You doe yet taſte

Some fubtleties o'th'ſle, that will nor let you
Beleve? hings certaine : Wellcome, my friends all,
But you, my brace of lords, were I ſo minded
I heere could plucke his highneſſe frowne upon you
And juſtifie you Traitors : at this time
I will tell no tales.

*Seb.* The divell ſpeakes in him :

*Pro.* No.

For you (moſt wicked Sir) whom to call brother
Would even inſeft my mouth, I doe forgive
Thy rankeſt ſault : all of them : and require
My Dukedome of thre, which, perſorce I know
Thou muſt reſtore.

*Alo.* If thou beeſt *Proſpero*,

Give us particulars of thy prefervation,
How thou hāſt met us heere, who three howres ſince
Were wrackt upon this ſhore ? where I have loſt
(How harpe the point of this remembrance is)
My deere ſonne *Ferdinand*.

*Pro.* I am woe for't, Sir.

*Alo.* Irreparable is the loſſe, and patience
Sayes, it is paſt her cure.

*Pro.* I rather thinke

You have not fought her helpe, of whose ſoft grace
For the like loſſe, I have her ſoveraigne ayd,
And reſt my ſelfe content.

*Alo.* You the like loſſe ?

*Pro.* As great to me, as late, and ſupportable
To make the deere loſſe, have I meanes much weaker
Then you may call to comfort you ; for I
Have loſt my daughter.

*Alo.* A daughter ?

Oh heavens, that they were living both in *Naples*
The King and Queene there, that they were, I wifh
My ſelfe were mudded in that oo-zy bed
Where my ſonne lies: when did you loſe your daughter?

*Pro.* In this laſt Tempeſt. I perſeere theſe lords,
At this encounter doe ſo much admire,
That they devote their reaſon, and ſcarethinke
Their eie doe offices of truth : their words
Are naturall breath : but how ſoever you have
Beene juſtled from your fences, know for certaine
That I am *Proſpero*, and that very Duke

Which was thraut forth of *Millaine*, who moſt ſtrangely
Vpon this ſhore (where you were wrackt) was landed
To be the Lord on't : no more yet of this,
For 'tis a Chronicle of day by day,
Not a relation for a break-faſt, nor
Befitting this firſt meeting : Welcome, Sir;
This Ceil's my Court : heere have I few attendants,
And Subjeſts none abroad : pray you looke in :
My Dukedome ſince you have given me againe,
I will require you with as good a thing,
At leaſt bring forth a wonder, to content ye
As much, as me my Dukedome.

*Here *Proſpero* discovers *Ferdinand* and *Miranda*, play-ing at Ceffe.*

*Mir.* Sweet lord, you play me ſalſe.

*Fer.* No my deareſt love,
I would not for the world. (wrangle)

*Mir.* Yes, for a ſcore of Kingdomes, you ſhould
And I would call it faire play.

*Alo.* If this prove

A vifion of the Island, one deere Sonne
Shall I twice loſſe.

*Seb.* A moſt high miracle.

*Fer.* Though the Seas threaten they are mercifull,
I have curſ'd them without caufe.

*Alo.* Now all the bleſſings

Of a glad father, compaſſe thee about :
Arife, and ſay how thou cam't heere.

*Mir.* O wonder !

How many goodly creatures are there heere ?

How beauteous maſkin is ? O brave new world!

That

18

The Tempest.

That has such people in't.

Pro. 'Tis new to thee.

(play?

Alo. What is this Maid, with whom thou was't at?
Your eld'it acquaintance cannot be three hours :

Is she the goddesle that hath fever'd us,
And brought us thus together?

Fer. Sir, she is mortall ;

But by immortall providence, she's mine;
I chose her when I could not aske my Father
For his advife : nor thought I had one : She
Is daughter to this famous Duke of Millaine,
Of whom, so often I have heard renowne,
But never faw before : of whom I have
Receiv'd a ſecond life ; and ſecond Father
This Lady makes him to me.

Alo. I am hers.

But O, how odly will it found, that I
Muft aske my child forgivenelle ?

Pro. There Sir ſtop,

Let us not burthen our remembrances, with
A heavineſe that's gone.

Gon. I haveuly wept,

Or should have ſpoke are this: looke downe you gods

And on this couple drop a bleſſed crowne ;

For it is you, that have chalk'd forth the way
Which brought us hither.

Alo. I fay Amen, Gonzalo.

Gon. Was Millaine thrust from Millaine, that his ſlue
Should become Kings of Naples? O rejoyce
Beyond a common joy, and fet it downe
With gold on laſting Pillers: In one voyage

Did Claribell her husband find at Tunie,
And Ferdivand her brother, found a wife,
Where he himſelfe was loft: Prolpero, his Dukedome

In a poore life: and all of us, our feles,
When no man was his owne.

Alo. Give me your hands :

Let griefe and forrow ſtill embrace his heart,
That doth not with you joy.

Gon. Be it ſo, Amen.

Enter Ariell, with the Maſter and Boatſwain,
amazedly following.

O looke Sir, looke Sir, here is more of us :
I propheſt'd, if a Gallowes were on Land

This fellow could not drownc : Now blaſphemy,
That ſwear'it grace ore-boord, not an oath on ſhore,
Haſt thou no mouth by land ?

What is the newes?

Bot. The beſt newes is, that we have faſely found
Our King, and company : The next : our Ship,
Which but three glaſſes ſince, we gave out ſplit,
Is tyte, and yare, and bravely rig'd, as when

We firſtput out to Sea.

Ar. Sir, all this ſervice

Have I done ſince I went.

Pro. My trickſey ſpirit.

Alo. Theſe are not naturall events, they ſtrengthen
From ſtrange, to ſtranger : ſay, how came you hither ?

Bot. If I did thinke, Sir, I were well awake,
I'd ſtrive to tell you : we were dead of ſleepe,
And (how we know not) all clapt under hatches,
Where, but even now, with ſtrange, and feverall noyſes
Of roring, fhreeking, howling, gingling chainses,
And mo diversity of ſounds, all horrible

We were awak'd : ſtraight way, at liberty ;
Where we, in all our trim, freehly beheld

Our royall, good, and gallant Ship : our Maſter
Capring to eye her : on a trice, ſo pleafey ou,
Even in a dreame, were we divided from them,
And were brought moaping hither.

Ar. Was't well done ?

Pro. Bravely (my diligence) thou ſhalt be free.

Ar. This is as ſtrange a Maze, as ere men trod,
And there is in this buſineſſe, more than nature
Was ever conduct of : ſome Oracle.

Muſt reſtifie our knowledge.

Pro. Sir, my Leige,

Doe not inſeft your mind, with beating on
The ſtrangenelſe of this buſineſſe, at pickt ſeſure
(Which ſhall be ſhortly ſingle) I'le reſolve you,
(Which to you ſhall ſeeme probable) of every
Theſe happeen accidents : till when, be cheerefull

And thinke of each thing well : Come hither ſpirit,
Set Caliban, and his companions free :

Vntythe the Spell : How fares my gracious Sir ?
There are yet miſſing of your Company

Some few odde Lads, that you remember not,

Enter Ariell, driving in Caliban, Stephano, and
Trinculo in their ſolke Apparell.

Ste. Every man ſhift for all the rent, and let
No man take care for himſelfe ; for all is

But fortune : Coragio : Bully-Monſter Coragio.

Tri. If theſe be true ſpies which I weare in my head,
Here's a goodly fight.

Cal. O Sceptos, theſe be brave ſpirits indeed :
How fine my Maſter is ? I am afraid

He will chalſtife me.

Seb. Ha, ha:

What things are theſe my lord Anthony?

Will money buy em ?

Ant. Very like : one of them

Is a plaine Fifth, and no doubt marketable,

Pro. Marke but the badges of theſe men, my lords,
Then ſay if they be true : I his miſhapen knaue ;
His Mother was a Witch, and one ſo ſtrong
That could control the Moone; make flowes, and ebs,
And deale in her command, without her power :
Theſe three have robd me, and this demy-divell ;
(For he's a baſtard one) had plotted w with them
To take my life : two of theſe Fellowes, you
Muſt know, and owne, this Thing of darkenelſe, I
Acknowlege mine.

Cal. I ſhall be pincht to death.

Alo. Is not this Stephano, my drunken Butler ?

Seb. He is dranken now ;

Where had he wine?

Alo. And Trinculo is reeling ripe : where ſhould they
Find this grand Liquor that hath gilded 'em ?

How cam it thou in this pickle ?

Tri. I have beene in ſuch a pickle ſince I faw you laſt,
That I feare me will never out of my bones :
I ſhal not feare flye-blowing.

Seb. Why how now Stephano?

Pro. O touch me not, I am not Stephano, but a Cramp.

Pro. You'd be King o'the ſle, Sirha ?

Seb. I ſhould have beene a ſore one then.

Alo. This is a ſtrange thing asere I look'd on.

Pro. He is as diſproportion'd in his manners
As in his ſhape : Goe Sirha, to my Cell,

Take with you your Companions : as you looke
To have my pardon, trim it handſomely.

Cal. I that I will : and Ile be wife hereafter,

And

The two Gentlemen of Verona.

21

Sp. I Sir : I (a loſt-Mutton) gave your Letter to her (a lac'd Mutton,) and ſhe (a lac'd Mutton) gave me (a loſt-Mutton) nothing for my labour.

Pro. Heres too ſmall a Paſture for ſuch ſtore of Muttons.

Sp. If the ground be over-charg'd,you were beſt ſtick her.

Pro. Nay, in that you are aſtray : twere beſt pound you.

Sp. Nay fir, ſeſſe then a pound ſhall ſerve me for carrying your letter.

Pro. You miſtake ; I meane the Pound, a Pinfold.

Sp. From a pound to a pin ? fold it over and over, Tis threefold too little for carrying a letter to your Lover.

Pro. But what ſaid ſhe ?

Sp. I.

Pro. Nod-I, why that's Noddy.

Sp. You miſſooke fir, I ſaid ſhe did nod :

And you aske me if ſhe did nod, and I ſaid I.

Pro. And that fet together, is noddy.

Sp. Now you have taken the paines to fet it together, take it for your paines.

Pro. No, no, you shall have it for bearing the Letter.

Sp. Well, I perceive I must be ſaine to bear with you.

Pro. Why fir, how doe you beare with me?

Sp. Marry fir, the Letter very orderly,

Having nothing but the word noddy for my paines.

Pro. Behrew me, but you have a quicke wit.

Sp. And yet it cannot overtake your flowe pufſe.

Pro. Come, come, open the matter in briefe ; what ſaid ſhe.

Sp. Open your pufſe, that the money and the matter may be both delivered.

Pro. Well fir : here is for your paines : what ſaid ſhe?

Sp. Truly fir, I thinke you hardly win her.

Pro. Why? could I thoughe perſe to much from her ?

Sp. Sir, I could perceive nothing at all from her ; No, not to much as a Ducket for delivering your letter :

And being to hard to me, that brought your minde ;

I ſeare ſhe'l prove as hard to you in telling her minde.

Give her no token but ſlones, for ſhe's as hard as ſteele.

Pro. What ſaid ſhe nothing ?

Sp. No, not to much as take this for thy paines : (me; To teſtifie your bounty, I thanke you, you have Teſtern'd In requitall whereof, hencefore carry your letter your ſelfe ; And fo fir, Ile commend you to my Maſter.

Pro. Go, go, be gone, to fave your ſhip from wracke, Which cannot perſish having thee aboard,

Being deſtin'd to a dryer death on ſhore :

I muſt goe ſend ſome better Meſſenger,

I ſeare my Inſia would not deigne my lines,

Exit.

## Scena Secunda.

### Enter Inſia and Lucetta.

Inſ. But ſay Lucetta (now are we alone)

Would ſt then confaſſe me to fall in love ?

Luc. I Madam, ſo you ſtumble not unheedeſfully.

Inſ. Of all the ſaire reſort of Gentlemen,

That every day with par'le encounter me,

In thy opinion which is worthie ſlove?

Luc. Pleaſe you repeat their names, Ile ſhow my mind, According to my ſhallow ſimple skill.

In. What think I thou of the faire Sir Eglamoure ?

Luc. As of a Knight, well ſpoken, neat, and fine ;

But were I you, he never should be mine.

In. What think I thou of the rich Mercatio ?

Luc. Well of his wealth; but of himselfe, ſo, ſo.

In. What think I thou of the gentle Protherus ?

Luc. Lord, Lord : to fee what folly raignes in us.

In. How now? what meanes this paffion at his name?

Luc. Pardon deare Madam, tis a paffing ſhame,

That I (unworthy body as I am)

Should censure thus on lovely Gentlemen.

In. Why not on Protherus, as of all the reſt ?

Luc. Then thus : of many good, I thinke him beſt.

In. Your reaſon ?

Luc. I have no other but a womans reaſon.

I thinke him ſo, becauſe I thinke him ſo.

In. And would I thou have me caſt my love on him?

Luc. I : if you thought your love not caſt away.

In. Why he of all the reſt, hath never mov'd me.

Luc. Yet he, of all the reſt, I thinke beſt loves ye.

In. His little ſpeaking ſhewes his love but small.

Luc. Fire that's cloſe ſt, kept, burnes moſt of all.

In. They do not love, that doe not ſhow their love.

Luc. Oh, they love leaſt, that I know men know their love.

In. I would I knew his minde.

Luc. Perufe this Paper Madam.

In. To Inſia : ſay, from whom ?

Luc. That the Contents will ſhow.

In. Say, ſay : who gave it thee ?

Luc. Sir Valentines Page; and ſent I think from Protherus.

He would have given it you, but I being in the way, Did in your name receive it : to pardon the fault I pray.

In. Now (by my modeſty) a goodly Broker :

Dare you prefume to harbour wanton lines ?

To whispeſ and confpire againſt my youth ?

Now truſt me, tis an oſſice of great worth,

And you an oſſicer fit for the place :

There : take the Paper : fee it be return'd,

Or eſſe returne no more into my fight.

Luc. To pleade for love, deſerves more fee then hate.

In. Will ye be gone ?

Luc. That you may ruminate.

Exit.

In. And yet I would I had ore-look'd the Letter ;

It were a ſhame to call her backe againe,
And pray her to a fault, for which I chid her.

What 'foole is ſhe, that knowes I am a Maid,

And would not force the letter to my view ?

Since Maides in modeſty, ſay no to that,

Which they would have the proſerer conſtrue, I.

Fie ſie; how way-ward is this foolish ſlove ;

That (like a teſty Babe) will feratch the Nurſe,

And prefently, all humbled, kiffe the Rod ?

How churliſhly I chid Lucetta hence,

When willingly I would have had her here ?

How angerly I taught my brow to ſrowne,

When inward joy enſor'd my heart to ſmile ?

My pennance is, to call Lucetta backe,

And aske remiſſion for my folly paff.

What hoe : Lucetta.

Luc. What would your Ladieſhip ?

Luc. Is't neere dinner time ?

Luc. I would it were,

That you might kill your ſtomacke on your meat,

And

["The two Gentlemen of Verona.", "22", "And not upon your Maid.", "Lu. What is't that you", "Tooke up so gingerly?", "Lu. Nothing.", "In. Why didst thou flcope then ?", "Lu. To take a Paper up, that I let fall.", "Lu. And is that Paper nothing?", "Lu. Nothing concerning me.", "In. Then let it lye, for thofe that it concernes.", "Lu. Madam, it will not lye where it concernes,", "Vnleffe it have a falfe interpreter.", "In. Some Love of yours hath writ to you in Rime.", "Lu. That I might fing it (Madam) to a tune;", "Give me a note, your Ladiship can let.", "In. As little by fuch toyes, as may be poſſible:", "Beſt fing it to the tune of *Light O, Love*,", "Lu. It is too heavy for so light a tune.", "In. Heavy ? belike it hath ſome burden then ?", "Lu. I : and melodious were it, would you ſing it.", "In. And why not you ?", "Lu. I cannot reach so high.", "In. Lets fee your ſong :", "How now Minion ?", "Lu. Keepe tune there ſtill, so you will ſing it out :", "And yet me thinkes I do not like this tune.", "Lu. You do not ?", "Lu. No (Madam) tis too ſharpe.", "Lu. You (Minion) are too ſawcie.", "Lu. Nay, now you are too flat ;", "And marre the concord, with too harſh a deſcant :", "There wanteth but a Meane to fill your Song.", "In. The Meane is drown'd with your unruly bafe.", "Lu. Indeed I bid the bafe for *Protheus*.", "In. This bable ſhall not henceforth trouble me;", "Here is a coile with proteſtation :", "Goe, get you gone : and let the Papers lye :", "You would be fingring them to anger me.", "Lu. She makes it ſtrange, but ſhe would be beſt pleas'd\nTo be ſo angred with another Letter.", "Lu. Nay, would I were ſo angred with the fame :", "Oh hatefull hands, to teare ſuch loving words ;", "Injurious Wafpes, to feed on ſuch fweet honey,", "And kill the Bees that yeeld it, with your ſlings ;", "Ile kiffe each ſeverall Paper for amends :", "Looke, here is writ, *kinde Iulia*: unkinde *Iulia*,", "As in revenge of thy ingratitude,", "I throw thy name againſt the bruzing ſtones,", "Trampling contemptuouſly on thy diſdaine.", "And here is writ, *Love-wounded Protheus*.", "Poore wounded name : my boſome, as a bed,", "Shall lodge thee till thy wound be throughly heal'd ;", "And thus I ſearch it with a ſoveraigne kiffe.", "But twice, or thrice, was *Protheus* written downe :", "Becalme (good winde) blow not a word away,", "Till I have found each letter in the Letter,", "Except mine owne name : That ſome whirle-wind beare", "Vnto a ragged, ſcarefull, hanging Rocke,", "And throw it thence into the raging Sea.", "Loe, here in one line is his name twice writ :", "Poore forlorne *Protheus*, *passionate Protheus* :", "To the *sweet* *Iulia* : that Ile teare away :", "And yet I will not, ſith so pretty", "He couples it, to his complaining names ;", "Thus will I fold them, one upon another ;", "Now kiffe, embrace, contend, doe what you will.", "Lu. Madam : dinner is ready, and your father ſtayes.", "In. Well, let us goe.", "Lu. What, ſhall theſe Papers lie, like tell-tales here?", "In. If you reſpect them ; beſt to take them up.", "Lu. Nay, I was taken up, for laying them downe.", "Yet here they ſhall not lie for catching cold.", "In. I fee you have a monthes minde to them.", "Lu. I (Madam) you may ſay what fights you fee;", "I fee things to, although you judge I winke.", "In. Come, come, wilt pleafe you goe?", "Exeunt.", "## Scena Tertia.", "Enter Antonio and Panthino, *Protheus*.", "Ant. Tell me *Panthino*, what fad talke was that,", "Wherewith my brother held you in the Cloyfter ?", "Pan. 'Twas of his Nephew *Protheus*, your ſonne.", "Ant. Why ? what of him ?", "Pan. He wondred that your Lordſhip", "Would ſuffer him to ſpend his youth at home,", "While other men of flender reputation", "Put forth their Sonaſes, to ſeeke preferment out.", "Some to the warres, to try their fortune there ;", "Some to discover Ilands farre away :", "Some, to the ſtudious Vniverſities ;", "For any, or for all theſe exerciſes,", "He faid, that *Protheus*, your ſonne, was meet ;", "And did reſquest me to importune you", "To let him ſpend his time no more at home ;", "Which would be great impeachment to his age,", "In having knowne no travaile in his youth.", "Ant. Nor need it thou much importune me to that", "Whereon, this month I have been hammering.", "I have confider'd well, his loffe of time.", "And how he cannot be a perfect man,", "Not being tried, nor tutor'd in the world :", "Experience is by induſtry atchiev'd,", "And perſected by the ſwift courſe of time :", "Then tell me, whither were I beſt to ſend him ?", "Pan. I thinke your Lordſhip is not ignorant", "How his companion, youthfull *Valentine*,", "Attends the Emperor in his Royall Court.", "Ant. I know it well,", "(thither,", "Pan. 'Twere good, I thinke, your Lordſhip ſent him", "There ſhall he præſeɪſt Tilts and Turnaments ;", "Heare ſweet difcourſe, converſe with Noblemen,", "And be in eye of every exerciſe", "Worthy his youth and noblenæſſe of birth.", "Ant. I like thy count ſaile : well haſt thou advis'd :", "And that thou maſt perceive how well I like it,", "The execution of it ſhall make knowne ;", "Even with the ſpeedieſt expedition,", "I will diſpatch him to the Emperours Court.", "Pan. To morrow, may it pleafe you, *Don Alphonſo*,", "With other Gentlemen of good eſteeme", "Are journeying to ſalute the Emperour,", "And to commend their ſervice to his will.", "Ant. Good company : with them ſhall *Protheus* goe:", "And in good time,

The two Gentlemen of Verona.

O that our Fathers would applaud our Loves
To feale our happineſſe with their conſents.
Oh heavenly Iulia.

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

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

Ant. Lend me the Letter ; Let me fee what newes ;

Pro. There is no newes (my Lord) but that he writes
How happily he lives, how well belov'd,

And daily graced by the Emperour ;

Wifhing me with him, partner of his fortune.

Ant. And how ſtand you affected to his wifh ?

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

Ant. My will is ſomething ſorted with his wifh :
Mufe not that I thus ſuddenly proceed ;

For what I will, I will, and there an end :

I am reſeſt'd that thou halt ſpend ſome time

With Valentine in the Emperours Court :

What maintenance he from his friends receives,

Like exhibition thou halt have from me,

To morrow be in readineſſe to goe,

Excuſe it not : for I am peremptory.

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

Ant. Looke what thou wantſt ſhall be ſent after thee :

No more of ſlay : to morrow thou muſt goe ;

Come on Panthino ; you shall be imploy'd,

To haſten on his expedition.

Pro. Thus have I ſhunn'd the ſire for ſeare of burning,
And drench'd me in the Sea, where I am drown'd.

I fear not to ſhow my father Iulia's Letter,
Leaſt he ſhould take exceptions to my Love,

And with the vantage of mine owne excuſe

Hath he excepted moſt againſt my Love.

Oh, how this ſpring of love reſembleth

The uncertaine glory of an Aprill day,
Which now ſhewes all the beauty of the Sunne,
And by and by a cloud takes all away.

Pan. Sir Protheuus, your Father call's for you,
He is in haſte, therefore I pray you goe.

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

Exeunt.

Fiusi.

## Actus ſecundus : Scena Prima,

Enter Valentine, Speed, Silvia.

Speed. Sir, your Glove.

Valeu. Not mine: my Gloves are on.

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

Val. Ha? Let me fee : I, give it me, it's mine :

Sweet Ornament, that decks a thing divine,
Ah Silvia, Silvia.

Speed. Madam Silvia: Madam Silvia.

Val. How now Sirrha?

Speed. Shee is not within hearing Sir.

Val. Why fir, who bad you call her ?

Sp. Your worſhip fir, or eſſe I miſtooke,

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

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

Val. Goe to fir, tell me: doe you know Madam Silvia ?

Sp. Shee that your worſhip loves?

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

Sp. Marry by theſe ſpeciall markeſ: firſt, you have
learn'd (like fir Protheuus) to wreathe your armes like a
Male-content: to reliſh a Love-long, like a Robin-red-
breaſt: to walke alone like one that had the Pefſilence:
to ſhike like a Schoole-boy that had loft his A. B. C. to
weepe like a yong Wench that had loft her Grandam: to
ſaſt like one that takes dyet: to watch like one that feares
robbing: to ſpeake puling like a Beggar at Hallowmaffe:
You were wont when you laughed to crow like a Cocke:
when you walk'd, to walke like one of the Lions: when
you faſted, it was preſently after dinner: when you lookt
fadly, it was for want of money: And now you are Meta-
morphos'd with a Miſtreſſe, that when I looke on you, I
can hardly thinke you my Maſter.

Val. Are all theſe things perceiv'd in me ?

Sp. They are all perceiv'd without ye.

Val. Without me ? they cannot.

Sp. Without you ? nay, that's certaine: for without
you were ſo ſimple, none eſſe would: but you are ſo
without theſe follies, that theſe follies are within you, and
ſhine through you like the water in an Vrinall: that not
an eye that ſees you, but is a Phyſitian to Comment on
your Malady.

Val. But tell me: doſt thou know my Lady Silvia?

Sp. Shee that you gaze on, as ſhe fits at Supper ?

Val. Haſt thou obſeuv'd that? even ſhe I meane.

Sp. Why fir, I know her not.

Val. Doſt thou know her by my gazing on her, and yet
know ſt her not ?

Sp. Is ſhe not hard favour'd fir ?

Val. Not ſo faire (Boy) as well favour'd.

Sp. Sir, I know that well enough.

Val. What doſt thou know ?

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

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

Sp. That's becauſe the one is painted, and the other out
of all count.

Val. How painted? and how out of count?

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

Val. How eſteem'ſt thou me? I account of her beauty.

Sp. You never ſaw her ſince ſhe was deſorm'd.

Val. How long hath ſhe been deſorm'd?

Sp. Ever ſince you lov'd her.

Val. I have lov'd her ever ſince I ſaw her,
And ſtill I fee her beautifull.

Sp. If you love her, you cannot ſee her.

Val. Why?

Sp. Because Love is blinde: O that you had mine
eyes, or your owne eyes had the lights they were want
to have, when you chid at Sir Protheuus, for going un-
garter'd.

Val. What ſhould I fee then?

Sp. Your owne prefent folly, and her paſſing deſor-
mity: for he being in love, could not fee to garter his
Hofe; and you, being in love, cannot fee to put on your
Hofe.

Val. Belike (Boy) then you are in loue, for laſt morning
You could not fee to wipe my hoſees.

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

The two Gentlemen of Verona.

24

bolder to chide you for yours.

Val. In conclusion, I stand affected to her.

Sp. I would you were fet, so your affection would ceaſt.

Val. Last night ſhe enjoynd me,

To write ſome lines to one ſhe loves.

Sp. And have you.

Val. I have.

Sp. Are they not lamely writ ?

Val. No (Boy) but as well as I can doe them :

Peace, here ſhe comes.

Sp. Oh excellent Motion; Oh exceeding Puppet :

Now will he interpret to her.

Val. Madam and Miftris, a thouſand good morrowes.

Sp. Oh, give ye-good-ev'n : here's a million of manners.

Sil. Sir Œlentine, and ſervant, to you two thouſand.

Sil. He should give her intertref : and ſhe gives it him.

Val. As you injoynd me; I have writ your Letter

Vnto the ſecret, nameſelfe friend of yours :

Which I was much unwilling to proceed in,
But for my duty to your Ladifhip.

Sil. I thanke you (gentle ſervant) :tis very Clerkly done.

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

For being ignorant to whom it goes,
I wriſt at randon very doubtfully.

Sil. Perchance you thinke too much of so much paines?

Val. No (Madam), so it ſeed you, I will write
(Pleafe you command) a thouſand times as much :

And yet—

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

And yet I will not name it : and yet I care not.
And yet, take this againe : and yet I thanke you :

Meaning henceforth to trouble you no more.

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

Val. What means your Ladifhip?

Doe you not like it?

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

But (fince unwillingly) take them againe.

Nay, take them.

Val. Madam, they are for you.

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

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

I would have had them wriſt more movingly :

Val. Pleafe you, I, wriſe your Ladifhip another.

Sil. And when its wriſt : for my ſake reade it over,

And if it pleafe you, fo : if not, why fo.

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

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

And fo good morrow ſervant.

Exit.

Sp. Oh Ieſt unſeene : inſcrutible, inviſible,

As a noſe on a man's ſace, or a Wethercocke on a Steeple :

My Maſter ſues to her : and ſhe hath taught her Sutor,
He being her Pupill, to become her Tutor.

Oh excellent devife, was there ever heard a better ?

That my Maſter being Scribe,

To himſelfe should write the Letter ?

Val. How now fir ?

What are you reaſoning with your ſelfe ?

Sp. Nay, I was riming : tis you that have the reaſon.

Val. To doe what?

Sp. To be a ſpokeſ-man from Madam Silvia.

Val. To whom ?

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

Val. What figure?

Sp. By a Letter, I should ſay.

Val. Why ſhe hath not wriſt to me ?

Sp. What need ſhe,

When ſhe hath made you wriſt to your ſelfe ?

Why, doe you not perceive the jeſt?

Val. No, believe me.

Sp. No beleeving you indeed Sir :

But did you perceive her earneſt ?

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

Sp. Why ſhe hath given you a Letter.

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

Sp. And y'Letter hath ſhe deliver'd, and there's an end.

Val. I would it were no worſe.

Sp. Ile warrant you tis as well :

For often have you wriſt to her : and ſhe in modeſtly,
Or eſſe for want of idle time, could not againe reply,
Or fearing els ſome meſſegers, y might her mind diſcover
Her ſelfe hath taught her Love, himilſero write unto her
All this I ſpeake in Print, for in Print I found it. (Lover
Why mate you fir, tis dinner time.

Val. I have din'd.

Sp. I, but hearken fir : though the Cameleon Love can feed on the ayre, I am one that am nouriſh'd by my viſuals; and would faine have meat : oh be not like your Miftreſſe, be moved, be moved.

Exeunt.

## Scena Secunda.

### Enter Protherm, Iulia, Panthon.

Pro. Hane patience, gentle Iulia.

Iul. I muſt where is no remedy.

Pro. When poffibly I can, I will returne.

Iul. If you turne not : you will returne the ſooner :

Keepe this remembrance for thy Iulia's ſake.

Pro. Why then wee'll make exchange ;

Here, take you this.

Iul. And ſeale the bargaine with a holy kiffie.

Pro. Here is my hand, for my true confiancante :

And when that houre ore-flips me in the day,
Wherein I ſigh not (Iulia) for thy ſake,

The next enſuing houre, ſome foule miſchance
Torment me for my Loves forgetfulneſſe :

My father flayes my comming : anſwer not :

The Tide is now ; nay, not thy tide of teares,

That tide will ſlay me longer then I ſhould,

Iulia farewell : what, gone without a word?

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

For truth hath better deeds than words to grace it.

Pan. Sir Protherm, you are ſtaid for.

Pro. Goe, I come, I come :

Alas, this parting ſtrikes poore Lovers dumbe.

Exeunt.

## Scena Tertia.

### Enter Launce, Panthon.

Launce. Nay, 'twill bee this houre ere I have done
weeping : all the kinde of the Launcees have this very
fault : I have receiv'd my proportion, like the prodigious
fonne,

The two Gentlemen of Verona.

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

Duk. Behrew me fir, but if he make this good
He is as worthy for an Empresse love,
As meet to be an Emperors Councellor :
Well, Sir: this gentleman is come to me
With Commendation from great Potentates,
And here he means to fpend his time a while,
I thinke't is no welcome newes to you.

Val. Should I have wifh'd a thing, it had beene he.
Duk. Welcome him then according to his worth:
Silvia, I speake to you, and you Sir Thurio,
For Valentine, I need not cite him to it,
I will fend him hither to you prefently.

Va. This is the Gentleman I told your Ladiship
Had come along with me, but that his Miftreffe
Did hold his eyes, lockt in her Criftall lookses.

Sil. Be-like that now ſhe hath enfranchis'd them
Vpon fome other pawne for fealty.

Va. Nay ſure, I thinke ſhe holds them prifoners full.
Sil. Nay then he ſhould be blind, and being blind
How could he fee his way to feeke out your

Val. Why Lady, Love hath twenty paire of eyes.
Thou. They ſay that love hath not an eye at all.

Val. To fee ſuch Lovers, Thurio, as your ſelfe,
P von a homely object love can winke.
Enter.

Sil. Have done, have done: here comes the gentleman.

Val. Welcome, deere Protheus: Miftris, I befeech you
Conſirme this welcome, with ſome ſpeciall favour,
Sil. His worth is warrant for his welcome hither,

If this be you oft have wifh'd to heare from,
Val. Miftris, it is : fweet Lady, entertaine him

To be my fellow-fervant to your Ladiship.

Sil. Too low a Miftris for ſo high a ſervant.
Pro. Not ſo, fweet Lady, but too, meane a ſervant,
To have a looke of ſuch a worthy Miftris.

Val. Leave off diſcourſe of diſabilitie :
Sweet Lady, entertaine him for your ſervant.

Pro. My dutie will I boaſt of, nothing eſſe.
Sil. And dutie never yet did want his meed.

Servant, you are welcome to a worthleſſe Miftris.

Pro. Ile dye on him that faies ſo but your ſelfe.
Sil. That you are welcome?

Pro. That you are worthleſſe. (you
Thur. Madam, my Lord your father would ſpeak with
Sil. I wait upon his pleasure : Come Sir Thurio,
Goe with me : once more, new ſervant welcome;
I leave you to confer of home affaires,

When you have done, we looke to heare from you.

Pro. Wee both attend upon your Ladiship.

Val. Now tell me how do al from whence you came?
Pro. Your friends are wel, & have the much comended.

Va. And how doe yours?
Pro. I left them all in health.

Va. How does your Lady? & how thrives your love?
Pro. My tales of love were wont to weary you,
I know you joy not in a Love-difcourſe.

Val. I Protheus, but that life is alter'd now,
I have done penance for contemning Love,
Whofe high emperious thoughts have punifh'd me
With bitter faſts, with penitentall grones,
With nightly teares, and daily heart-fore fighes,
For in revenge of my contempt of love,
Love hath chac'd ſleepe from my enthralled eyes,
And made them watchers of mine owne hearts ſorrow.
O gentle Protheus, Love's a mightie Lord,

And hath ſo humbled me, as I confefſſe
There is no woe to his correction,
Nor to his ſervice, no ſuch joy on earth:
Now, no diſcourſe, except it be of love :
Now can I breake my faſt, dine, ſup, and ſleep,
Vpon the very naked name of love.

Pro. Enough; I read your fortune in your eyes
Was this the Idoll, that you worſkip ſo ?

Va. Even She; and is ſhe not a heavenly Saint?
Pro. No; But ſhe is an earthly Faragon.

Va. Call her divine.
Pro. I will not flatter her.

Va. O flatter me : for Love delights in praiſe.

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

Val. Then ſpeak the truth by her, if not divine,
Yet let her be a principalitie,
Soveraigne to all the Creatures on the earth.

Pro. Except my Miftreffe.
Val. Sweet : except not any,
Except thou wilt except againſt my Love.

Pro. Have I not reaon to prefer mine owne?
Va. And I will helpe thee to prefer her to;
Shee ſhall be dignified with this high honour,
To beare my Ladies traine, leaſt the bafe earth
Should from her veſture chance to ſteale a kiffe,
And of ſo great a favor growing proud,
Difdaine to roote the Sommer-fwelling flowre,
And make rough Winter everlaſtingly.

Pro. Why Valentine, what Bragadife is this ?
Va. Pardon me (Protheus) all I can is nothing,
To her, whoſe worth makes other worthies nothing;
Shee is alone.

Pro. Then let her alone.
Va. Not for the world : why man, ſhe is mine owne,
And I as rich in having ſuch a Jewell.

As twenty Seas, if all their ſand were pearle,
The water, Nectar and the Rocke pure gold.
Forgive me, that I doe not dreame on thee,
Because thou feeſt me doate upon my love :
My foolifh Rivall that her father likes

(Onely for his poſſeffions are ſo huge)
Is gone with her along, and I muſt after,
For Love (thou know't) is full of joaunſtie.

Pro. But ſhe loves you? (howre,
Va. I, and we are betroath'd : nay more, our marriage
With all the cunning manner of our flight
Determi'n'd of: how I muſt clime her window,
The Ladder made of Cords, and all the means
Plotted, and 'greed on for my happineſſe.
Good Protheus goe with me to my chamber,
In theſe affaires to aid me with thy counſaile.

Pro. Goe on before : I ſhall enquire you forth:
I muſt unto the Road, to diſ-enbarque
Some neceſſaries; that I needs muſt uſe,
And then Ie prefently attend you.

Va. Will you make haeſt?
Pro. I will.
Even as one heate, another heate expels,

Or as one nayle by ſtrength drives out another :
So the remembrance of my former Love
Is by a newer object quite ſorgotten,
Is it mine then, or Valentine's praiſe?

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

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

(That

The two Gentlemen of Verona.

27

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

Exit.

## Scena Quarta.

Enter Speed and Launce.

Spee. Launce, by mine honeſty welcome to Padua.

Laun. Forſweare not thy ſelfe, ſweet youth, for I am not welcome. I reckon this alwaies, that a man is never undon till he be hang'd, nor never welcome to a place, till ſome certaine ſhot be paid, and the Hoftefſe ſay welcome.

Spee. Come-on you mad-cap : Ile to the Ale-houſe with you prefently ; where, for one ſhot of five pence, thou ſhalt have five thouſand welcomes: But firſa, how did thy Maſter part with Madam Iulia?

Laun. Marry after they cloas'd in earneſt, they parted very fairely in jeft.

Spee. But ſhall the marry him ?

Laun. No.

Spee. How then ? ſhall he marry her?

Laun. No, neyther.

Spee. What, are they broken?

Laun. No; they are both as whole as a fish.

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

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

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

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

My ſtaſſe underſtands me.

Spee. What, thou ſayſt?

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

Spee: It ſtands under thee indeed.

Laun. Why, ſtand-under: and underſtand is all one.

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

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

Spee. The conclusion is then, that it will.

Laun. Thou ſhalt never get ſuch a ſecret from me, but by a parable.

Spee. 'Tis well that I get it to : but Launce, how ſaſſ
thou that my maſter is become a notable Lover?

Laun. I never knew him otherwife.

Spee. Then how?

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

Spee. Why, thou whorſon Aſſe, thou miſtak't me.

Laun. Why Foole, I meant not thee, I meant thy Maſter.

Spee. It tell thee, my maſter, is become a hot Lover.

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

Spee. Why?

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

Spee. At thy ſervice.

Exeunt.

## Scena Sexta.

Enter Probus solus.

Spee. To leave my Iulia ; ſhall I be forſworn?

To love faire Silvia; ſhall I be forſworne ?

To wrong my friend, I ſhall be much forſworne.

And ev'n that Powre which gave me firſt my oath
Provokes me to this three-fold perjorie.

Love bad me ſweare, and Love bids me forſ-weare ;

O sweet-fingſeiling Love, if thou haſt finn'd,

Teach me (thy tempted ſubject) to excufe it.

At firſt I did adore a twinking Starre,

But now I worſhip a caſeſtall Sunne :

Vn-heedfull vows may heedfully be broken,

And he wants wit, that wants reſolved will,

To leane his wit, t'exchange the bad for better ;

Fie, ſie, unreverend tongue, to call her bad,

Whoſe ſoveraignty ſo oft thou haſt preferſd,

With twenty thouſand foule-confirming oathes.

I cannot leave to love, and yet I doe :

But there I leave to love, where I ſhould love.

Iulia I looke, and Valentine I looke,

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

If I looke them, thus finde I but their loſſe,

For Valentine, my ſelfe : for Iulia, Silvia.

I to my ſelfe am deerer then a friend,

For Love is ſtill moſt precious in it ſelfe,

And Silvia (witneſſe heaven that made her faire)

Shewes Iulia but a ſwarthy Ethiope.

I will forgetthat Iulia is alive,

Remembring that my love to her is dead.

And Valentine Ile hold an Enemie,

Ayming at Silvia as a sweeter friend,

I cannot now prove conſtant to my ſelfe,

Without ſome trechery us'd to Valentine.

This night he meaneth with a Corded-ladder

To climb the ceſtiaſt Silvia's chamber window,

Myſelfe in counſaile his competitor.

Now prefently Ile give her father notice

Of their diſguſing and pretended flight :

Who (all inrag'd) will banifh Valentine :

For Thurio he intends ſhall wed his daughter,

But Valentine being gone, Ile quickly croſſe

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

Love lend me wings, to make my purpofe ſwift,

As thou haſt lent me wit to plot his drift.

Exit.

Scena

C 2

The two Gentlemen of Verona.

## Scena septima.

Enter Iulia and Lucetta.

Jul. Comu faile, *Lucetta*, gentle girle affift me,
And ev'n in kinde love, I doe conjure thee,
Who art the Table wherein all my thoughts
Are vifibly Charafer'd, and engrav'd,
To leffon me, and tell me fome good meane
How with my honour I may undertake.

A journey to my loving *Protheus*.

Luc. Alas, the way is weariſome and long.

Jul. A true-devoted Pilgrime is not weary
To meaſure Kingdoms with his feeble steps,
Much leſſe ſhall ſhe that hath Loves wings to ſlie;
And whene the flight is made to one ſo deere,
Of ſuch divine perſection as Sir *Protheus*.

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

Jul. Oh, know'ft not, his looks are my foules food?
Pitty the death that I have pined in,
By longing for that food so long a time,
Didſt thou but know the inly touch of Love,
Thou wouldſt as foone goe kindle fire with ſnow
As feeket to quench the fire of Love with words.

Luc. I do not feeke to quench your Loves hot fire,
But qualifie the fires extreame rage,
Leaſt it ſhould burne above the bounds of reaſon.

Jul. The more thou dam'ſt it up, the more it burns:
The Current that with gentle murmur glides
(Thou know'ſt) being ſtop'd, impatiently doth rage :
But when his faire courſe is not hindered,
He makes sweete muſicke with th'enameld ſtones,
Giving a gentle kiffe to every ſedge
He over-taketh in his pilgrimage.

And so by many winding nookes he Draies
With willing ſport to the wilde Ocean.
Then let me goe, and hinder not my courſe :
Ile be as patient as a gentle ſtreaue,
And make a paftime of each weary ſtep,
Till the laſt ſtep have brought me to my Love,
And there ile reſt, as after much turmoil
A bleſſed foule doth in *Etizum*.

Luc. But in what habit will you goe along ?

Jul. Not like a woman, for I would prevent
The loofe encounters of laſcivious men :
Gentle *Lucetta*, fit me with ſuch weedes
As may beſcome ſome well reputed Page.

Luc. Why then your Ladiship muſt cut your haire.
Jul. No girle, ile knit it up in filken ſtrings,
With twentie od-conceited true-love knots :
To be ſantafaſtique, may become a youth
Of greater time then I ſhall ſhow to be.
(ches?

Luc. What fashion (Madam) ſhall I make your brec-
Jul. That fits as well, as tell me (good my Lord)
What compaſſe will you weare your Farthingale?

Why ev'n what fashion thou beſt likes (*Lucetta*.)

Luc. You muſt needs have them with a cod-peece(Ma-

Jul. Out, out, (*Lucetta*) that wilbe illfavord. (dam
Luc. A round hofe (Madam) now's not worth a pin

Vnleſſe you have a cod-peece to ſtick pins on.

Jul. *Lucetta*, as thou lov'ſt me let me have
What thou think'ſt meet, and is moſt manerly,
But tell me (wench) how will the world repute me
For undertaking ſo unſtaid a journey?

I feareme it will make me ſcandaliz'd.

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

Jul. Nay, that I will not.

Luc. Then never dreame on Infamy, but go:
If *Protheus* like your journey when you come,
No matter who's diſples'd when you are gone:
I feare me he will cauſe be pleas'd withall.

Jul. That is the koft (*Luceira*) of my ſeaſe :
A thouſand oathes, an Ocean of his teares
And inſtances as infinite of Love,
Warrant me welcome to my *Protheus*.

Luc. All these are ſervants to deceitfull men.

Jul. Bafe men, that uſe them to ſo bafe effect;
But truer ſtarres did governe *Protheus* birth,
His words are bonds, his oathes are oracles,
His love ſincere, his thoughts immaculate,
His teares, pure meſſengers, ſent from his heart,
His heart as far from fraud, as heaven from earth.

Luc. pray heav'n he prove ſo when you come to him.

Jul. Now, as thou lov'ſt me, do him not that wrong,
To beare a hard opinion of his truth :

Onely deferve my love, by loving him,
And prefently goe with me to my chamber
To take a note of what I stand in need of,
To furniſh me upon my longing journey :
All that is mine I leave at thy diſpofe,
My goods, my Lands, my reputation,
Onely in lieu thereof, diſpatch me hence :
Come; anſwere not : but to it prefently,
I am impatient of my tarriance.

Exequi.

## Actus Tertius, Scena Prima.

Enter Duke, Thurio, Protheus, Valentine,
Lauunce, Speed.

Duk. Sir *Thurio*, give us leave (*I pray*) a while,
We have ſome ſecrets to confer about.

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

Pro. My gracious Lord, that which I would diſcover,
The Law of friendliſh bids me to conceal,
But when I call to minde your gracious favours
Done to me (undelivering as I am)
My dutie pricks me on to utter that

Which eſſe no worldly good ſhould draw from me:
Know (worthy Prince) Sir *Valentine* my friend
This night intends to ſteale away your daughter :
My ſelfe am one made priuy to the plot.

Know you have determin'd to bellow her
On *Thurio*, whom your gentle daughter hates;
And should ſhe thus be ſtolie away from you,
It would be much vexation to your age.

Thus (for my duties fake) I rather chofe
To crosſe my friend in his intended drift,
Then (by concealing it) heap on your head

A pack of forrowes, which would preſſe you downe
(Being unprevented) to your timeſſe grave.
Duk. *Protheus*, I thanke thee for thine honef ſare,
Which to require, command me while I live.
This love of theirs, my ſelfe have often ſeene,
Haply when they have iudg'd me ſaſt aſſleepe,
And oftentimes have purpos'd to forbid

Duk. *Protheus*, I thanke thee for thine honest care,
Which to require, command me while I live.
This love of theirs, my ſelfe have often ſeene,
Haply when they have iudg'd me ſaſt aſſleepe,
And oftentimes have purpos'd to forbid

Sir

The two Gentlemen of Verona.

Sir Valentine her company, and my Court.
But fearing left my jealous ayme might erre,
And so (unworthily) difgrace the man
(Arafhneſſe that I ever yet have flun'd)
I gave him gentle lookes, thereby to finde
That which thy ſelfe haſt now diſclos'd to me.
And thou maſſer perceive my ſeaſe of this,
Knowing that tender youth is ſoone ſuggelted,
I nightly lodge her in an upper Towre,
The key whereof, my ſelfe have ever kept :
And thence ſhe cannot be convay'd away.

Pro. Know (noble Lord) they have devis'd a meane
How he her chamber-window will aftend,

And with a Corded-ladder fetch her downe :

For which, the youthfull Lover now is gone,
And this way comes he with it prefently.

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

But (good my Lord) doe it so cunningly

That my diſcovery be not aimed at:

For, love of you, not hate unto my friend,

Hath made me publilher of this pretence.

Duke. Vpon mine honour, he ſhall never know

That I had any light from thee of this.

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

Duk. Sir Valentines, whither away fo faſt ?

Va. Pleaſe it your Grace, there is a Meſſenger

That flyes to beare my Letters to my friends,

And I am going to deliver them.

Duk. Be they of much import ?

Val. The tenure of them doth but ſignifie

My health, and happy being at your Court.

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

That touch me neere: wherein thou muſt be ſecre.

Tis not unknowne to thee, that I have ſought
To match my friend Sir Thurie, to my daughter.

Val. I know it well (my Lord and ſure the Match
Were rich and honourable: befides, the gentleman
Is full of Vertue, Bounty, Worth, and Qualities
Becemeing ſuch a Wife, as your faire daughter :
Cannot your Grace win her to fancie him ?

Duk. No, truſt me, She is pcevifh, ſullen, ſroward,
Proud, diſobedient, ſubſuborne, lacking duty,
Neyther regarding that ſhe is my childe,
Nor fearing me, as if I were her father :

And may I ſay to thee, this pride of hers

(Vpon advice) hath drawne my love from her,

And where I thought the remnant of mine age

Should have beene cheriſh'd by her child-like dutie,
I now am full refolv'd to take a wife,

And turne her out to who will take her in :

Then let her beautit be her wedding dowre :

For me, and my poſſeffions ſhe eſteemes not.

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

Duke. There is a Lady in Verona heere

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

And nought eſteemes my aged eloquence.

Now therefore would I have thee to my Tutor

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

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

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

Dumbe lewels often in their ſilent kinde

More then quicke words, doe move a womans minde.

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

Val. A woman fometime ſcorns what beſt cötents her.
Send her another : never give her ore,

For ſcorne at firſt makes after-love the more:

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

But rather to beget more love in you.

If the doe chide, 'its not to have you gone,

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

Take no repulſe, what ever ſhe doth ſay,
For, get you gon, ſhe doth not meane away.

Flatter, and pray ſe, commend, extoll their graces :
Though nere ſo blacke, ſay they have Angels faces,

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

If this his tongue he cannot win a woman.

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

And kept feverely from reſort of men,

That no man hath aceſſe by day to her.

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

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

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

Duk. Her chamber is aloft, far from the ground,

And built ſo ſhelv-ing, that one cannot climb it

Without apparant hazard of his life.

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

Would ſerve to ſcale another Herò's towre,

So bold Leander would adventure it.

Duk. Now as thou art a gentleman of blood
adviſe me, where I may have ſuch a Ladder.

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

Duk. This very night, for Love is like a childe

That longs for every thing that he can come by.

Val. By ſeaven a clock, ile get you ſuch a Ladder.

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

How ſhall I beſt convey the Ladder thither?

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

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

Val. I my good Lord.

Duk. Then let me fee thy cloake,

Ile get me one of ſuch another length.

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

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

I pray thee let me feele thy cloake upon me.

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

And heere an Engine fit for my proceeding,

Ile be ſo bold to breake the ſeale for once.

My thoughts do harbour with my Silvia nightly,
And flaves they are to me, that ſend them flying.

Oh, could their Nafter come, and goe as lightely,

Himſelfe would lode, where (fenceles) they are lying.

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

Whole I (their King) that thither them inportune

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

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

That they should harbour where their Lord would be.

What's here ? Silvia, this night I will infranchise thee.

'Tis ſo: and here's the Ladder for the purpofe:

Why Phaeton (for thou art Merops ſonne)

Wilt thou aspire to guide the heavenly Car?

And with thy daring folly burne the world?

Wilt thou reach itars, because they ſhine on thee?

C 3

Goe

The two Gentlemen of Verona.

30

Goe baſſe Intruder, over-weening Slave,
Beflow thy fawning ſmiles on equall mates,
And thinke my patience, (more then thy defert)
Is privilege for thy departure hence.

Thanke me for this, more then for all the favors
Which (all too-much) I have beſtowed on thee.

But if thou linger in my Territories
Longer then ſwifteſt expedition

Will give thee time to leave our royall Court,
By heaven, my wrath ſhall farre exceed the love
I ever bore my daughter, or thy ſelfe.

Be gone, I will not heare thy vaine excufe,
But as thou lovſt thy life, make ſpeed from hence.

Exit.

Val. And why not death, rather then living torment?

To die, is to be banifhed from my ſelfe,
And Silvia is my ſelfe: banifh'd from her

Is ſelfe from ſelfe. A deadly banifhment :
What light, is light, if Silvia be not ſeene ?

What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by ?

Vnleſſe it be to thinke that ſhe is by
And feed upon the ſhaddow of perſection.

Except I be by Silvia in the night,
There is no muſike in the nightringale.

Vnleſſe I looke on Silvia in the day,

There is no day for me to looke upon.

She is my ſeffence, and I leave to be ;
If I be not by her faire influence

Foſter'd, illumin'd, cheriſh'd, kept alive.

I flie not death, to flie his deadly doome,

Tarry I heere, I but attend on death,

But flie I hence, I flie away from life.

Enter Pro. and Launs.

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

Lau. Soa-hough, Soa hough—

Pro. What ſeeſt thou ?

Lau. Him we goe to finde,

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

Pro. Valentine ?

Va. No.

Pro. Who then ? his Spirit?

Va. Neither,

Pro. What then?

Va. nothing.

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

Pro. Whom wouldſt thou ſtrike ?

Lau. Nothing.

Pro. Villaine, forbeare.

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

Pro. Sirha, I ſay forbeare? friend Valentine, a word.

Va. My eares are flopt, & cannot heare good newes,
So nauch of bad already hath poffeſt them.

Pro. Then in dumbe ſilence will I bury mine,

For they are harſh, un-tuneable, and bad.

Va. Is Silvia dead?

Pro. No, Valentine.

Va. No Valentine indeed, for ſacred Silvia,

Hath ſhe forſworne me ?

Pro. No, Valentine.

Va. No Valentine, if Silvia have forſworne me.

What is your newes ?

Lau. Sir, there is a proclamation, that you are vanifhed.

Pro. That thou art banifh'd: oh that's the newes,
From hence, from Silvia, and from me thy friend.

Va. Oh, I have fed upon this woe already,

And now exſeſſe of it will make me furſet.

Doth Silvia know that I am banifh'd?

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

(Which un-reverſt ſtands in effect, uall force)

A Sea of melting pearle, which ſome call teares.

Thofe at her fathers churliſh feete ſhe tenderd,
With them upon her knees, her humble ſelfe,

Wringing her hands, whole whiteneffe ſo became them,
As it but now they waxed pale for woe :

But neither bended knees, pure hands held up,

Sad ſighes, deepe grones, nor filver-shedding teares

Could penetrate her uncompaſſionate Sire ;
But Valentine, if he be tane, muſt die.

Befides, her interceſſion chaf'd him ſo,

When ſhe for thy repeale was ſuppliant,

That to cloſe prifon he commaunded her,

With many bitter threats of biding there.

Va. No more : unless the next word that thou ſpeak'st
Have ſome maligant power upon my life :
If ſo : I pray thee breathe it in mine eare,
As ending Antheme of my endleſſe dolor.

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

Time is the Nurſe, and breeder of all good ;

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

Befides, thy ſtaying will abridge thy life :

Hope is a lovers ſtaffe, walke hence with that

And mannage it, againſt deſpairing thoughts :

Thy letters may be here, though thou art hence,

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

Even in the milke-white boſome of thy love.

The time now ſerves not to expoſtulate,

Come, Ile convey thee through the City-gate.

And ere I part with thee, confer at large

Of all that may concerne thy love affairs :

As thou lov't Silvia ( though not for thy ſelfe)

Regard thy danger, and along with me.

Va. I pray thee Lawne, and if thou ſeeſt my Boy
Bid him make haſte, and meet me at the North-gate.

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

Va. Oh my deere Silvia; hapleſſe Valentine, Exeunt.

Launce. I am but a fool, looke you, and yet I have
the wit to thinke my Maſter is a kinde of a knave: but
that's all one, if he be but one knave: He lives not now
that knowes me to be in love, yet I am in love, but a
Teeme of horſe ſhall not plucke that from me: nor who
'tis I love: and yet 'tis a woman; but what woman, I
will not tell my ſelfe: and yet 'tis a Milkemaid: yet 'tis
not a maid: for ſhe hath had Goffips: yet 'tis a maid,
for ſhe is her Maſters maid, and ſerves for wages. ſhee
hath more qualities then a Water-Spaniell, which is
much in a bare Chriſtian: Heere is the Cate-log other
Condition. Inprimm, Shee can fetch and carry: why
a horſe can doe no more; nay, a horſe cannot fetch, but
only carry, therefore is ſhe better then a Iade, Item.
Shee can milke, looke you, a ſweet vertue in a maid with
cleane hands.

Enter Speed.

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

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

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

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

Sp. Why man? how blacke ?

La. Why, as blacke as Inke.

Sp. Let me read them ?

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

Sp. Thou lyeſt : I can.

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

Sp. Marry,

The two Gentlemen of Verona.

31

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

Sp. Come foole, cometry me in thy paper.

La. There : and S. Nicolas be thy Ipcad.

Sp. Inprimis she can milke.

La. I that she can.

Sp. Item, she brewes good Ale.

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

Sp. Item, she can fowe.

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

Sp. Item she can knit.

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

Sp. Item, she can wath and fcoure.

La. A speciall vertue : for then she neede not to be
wath'd and fcow'r'd.

Sp. Item, she can Ipin.

La. Then may I fet the world on wheeles, when she
can Ipin for her living.

Sp. Item, she hath many nameleffe vertues.

La. That's as much as to say Baftard-vertues : that
indeede know not their fathers, and therefore have no
names.

Sp. Here followes her vices.

La. Clofe at the heele of her vertues:

Sp. Item, she is not to bee fafting in respect of her
breath.

La. Well, that fault may be mended with a breakfast:
read on.

Sp. Item, she hath a sweet mouth.

La. That makes amends for her fowre breath.

Sp. Item, she doth talke in her fleepe.

La. It's no matter for that; so she fleepe not in her
talke.

Sp. Item, she is flow in words.

La. Oh villanie, that fet downe among her vices;

To be flow in words is a womans onely vertue :

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

Sp. Item, she is proud.

La. Out with that too:

It was Eves legacie, and cannot be tane from her,

Sp. Item, she hath no teeth.

La. I care not for that neither, because I love crufts.

Sp. Item, she is curft.

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

Sp. Item, she will often praise her liquor.

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

Sp. Item, she is too liberal.

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

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

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

Sp. Item, she hath more haire then wit.

La. More haire then wit : it may be ile prove it : The
cover of the falt; hides the falt, and therefore it is more
then the falt; the haire that covers the wit, is more
then the wit : for the greater hides the leffe : What's
next?

Sp. And more faults then haires.

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

Sp. And more wealth then faults.

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

Sp. What then?

La. Why then, will I tell thee, that thy Maſter ſtayes
for thee at the North-gate.

Sp. For me?

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

Sp. And muſt I goe to him?

La. Thou muſt run to him; for thou haſt ſtaid so long
that going will ſcare me ſerve the turne.

Sp. Why didst not tell me sooner? 'pox of your love
Letters.

La. Now will he be ſwing'd for reading my Letter;
An unmannerly ſlave, that will thrust himselfe into ſe-
crets: Ile after, to rejoyce in the boyes correction. Exeunt.

## Scena Secunda.

Enter Duke, Thurio, Protheus.

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

Th. Since his exile ſhe hath deſpis'd me moſt,
Forworne my company, and rail'd at me,
That I am desperate of obtaining her.

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

Pro. Gon, my good Lord.

Du. My daughter takes his going heavily ?

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

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

Protheus, the good conceit I hold of thee,
(For thou haſt ſhowne ſome ſigne of good defert)

Makes me the better to confer with thee.

Pro. Longer then I prove royall to your Grac e,
Let me not live, to looke upon you Grace.

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

Pro. I doe my Lord.

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

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

Du. I, and perſeverly, ſhe perſevers ſo :

What might we doe to make the girle forget

The Love of Valentene, and love fir Thurio?

Pro. The belt way is to ſlander Valentine,
With falſehood, cowardize, and poore defcent:
Three things, that women highly hold in hate.

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

Pro. I, if his enemie deliver it.

Therefore it muſt with circumſtance be ſpoken

By one, whom ſhe eſteemes as his friend.

Du. Then you muſt undertake to ſlander him.

Pro.

The two Gentlemen of Verona.

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

Du. Where your good word cannot advantage him,
Your flander never can endamage him;
Therefore the office is indifferent,
Being intreated to it by your friend.

Por. You have prevail'd (my Lord) if I can doe it
By ought that I can fpeake in his difpraise,
She shall not long continue love to him :
But fay this weede her love from Valentine,
It followes not that she will love fir Thurio.

Th. Therefore as you unwinde her love from him;
Leaft it fhould ravell, and be good to none,
You muft provide to bottome it on me :
Which muft be done, by prayling me as much
As you, in worth difprayle, fir Valentine.

Du. And Protheus, we dare truft you in this kinde,
Because we know (on Valentines report)
You are already loves firme votary,

And cannot foone revolt, and change your minde.
Vpon this warrant, fhall you have accefle,
Where you, with Silvia may conferre at large.

For ſhe is lumpifh, heavy, melancholly,
And (for your friends fake) will be glad of you ;
Where you may temper her, by your perfuafion,
To hate yong Valentine, and love my friend.

Pro. As much as I can doe, I will effect :
But you fir Thurio, are not ſharpe enough :

You muſt lay Lime, to tangle her defires
By wailefull Sonnets, whole compofed Rimes
Should be full fraught with ſerviceable vowes.

Du. I, much is the force of heaven-bred Poefie.

Pro. Say that upon the altar of her beauty
You sacrifice your teares, your fighes, your heart :
Write till your inkc be dry; and with your teares
Moift it againe : and frame ſome feeling line,
That may difcover ſuch integrity :

For Orphus Lute, was ſtrung with Poets finewes,
Whoſe golden touch could ſtoen ſteele and ſtones;
Make Tygers tame, and huge Leviathans

For ſake unfounded deepes, and dance on Sands.
After your dire-lamenting Elegies,

Vifit by night your Ladies chamber-window
With ſome fweet Confort; To their Infruments
Tune a deploing dumpe : the nights dead filence

Will well become ſuch fweet complaining grievance:
This, or eſſe nothing, will inherit her.

Du. This diſcipline, ſhowes thou haſt bin in love.

Th. And thy advice, this night, ile put in præſtife:
Therefore, fweet Protheus, my direction-giver,
Let us into the City prevently

To fort ſome gentlemen, well skil'd in Muſique,
I have a Sonnet, that will ſerve the turne

To give the on-fet to thy good advice.

Du. About it Gentlemen.

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

Du. Even now about it, I will pardon you.

Exeunt.

Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Enter Valentine, Speed, and certaine Out-Lawes.

1. Out-t. Fellowes, ſtand faſt: I fee a paſſenger.

2. Out. If there be ten, ſhrinked not, but down with'em.

3. Out. Stand fir, and throw us that you have about ye.

It not : we'll make you fit, and rife you.

Sp. Sir we are undone; there are the Villaines

That all the Travailers doe feare so much.

Val. My friends.

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

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

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

Val. Then know that I have little to loſe ;

A man I am, croſſ'd with adverſitie :

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

2. Out. Whither travell you ?

Val. To Verona.

1. Out. Whence came you?

Val. From Milaine.

3. Out. Have you long fojourn'd there ?

(Itaid,

Val. Some fixtenee moneths, and longer might have
If crooked fortune had not thwarted me.

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

Val. I was.

2. Out. For what offence?

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

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

But were you baniſht for ſo ſmall a fault ?

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

2. Out. Have you the Tongues?

Val. My youthfull travaile, therein made me happy,
Or eſſe I often had beene miferable.

3. Out. By the bare ſcalp of Robin hoods fat Fryer,
This fellow were a King, for our wilde faction.

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

Sp. After, be one of them :

It's an honerable kinde of theevery.

Val. Peace villaine.

2. Out. Tell us this : have you any things to take to?

Val. Nothing but my fortune.

3. Out. Know then, that ſome of us are Gentlemen,
Such as the ſurie of ungovern'd youth
Thriftu from the company of awfull men.

My ſelfe was from Verona baniſhed,
For præſtife to ſteale away a Lady,
And heire and Neece, allide unto the Duke.

2. Out. And I from Manna, for a gentlenan,
Who, in my moode, I ſtab'd unto the heart.

1. Out. And I, for ſuch like petty crimes as theſe,
But to the purpote : for we cite our ſaults,
That they may hold excus'd our lawleſſe lives;
And partly feeing you are beautifide
With goodly ſhape; and by your owne report,
A Linguift, and a man of ſuch perſection,
As we doe in our quality much want.

2. Out. Indeede becauſe you are a baniſh'd man,
Therefore, above the reſt, we parley to you :
Are you content to be our Generall ?
To make a vertue of neceſſitie,
And live as we doe in the wilderneſſe ?

3. Out. What ſaſt thou? wilt thou be of our confort?
Say I, and be the captaine of us all :

We'll doe thee homage, and be rul'd by thee,
Love thee as our Commander, and our King.

1. Out.

["The two Gentlemen of Verona.", "We must bring you to our Captaine.", "Sil. A thousand more chances then this one", "Have learn'd me how to brooke this patiently.", "2 Out. Come, bring her away.", "1 Out. Where is the Gentleman that was with her.", "3 Out. Being nimble footed, he hath out-run us.", "But Moyfes and Valerius follow him :", "Goe thou with her to the West end of the Wood,", "There is our Captaine : wee'll follow him that's fled,\nThe thicket is beſt, he cannot ſcape.", "1 Out. Come, I must bring you to our Captaines Cave.", "Feare not : he beares an honourable mind,", "And will not vfe a woman lawleſt.", "Sil. O Valentine : this I endure for thee.", "Exeunt.", "## Scena Quarta.", "Enter Valentine, Protheus, Silvia, Iulia, Dukes, Thurio,\nOu-lawes.", "Val. How we doth breed a habite in a man ?", "This shadowy Defart, unfrequented woods,", "I better brooke then flourishing peopled townes :", "Here can I fit alone, un-feene of any,", "And to the Nightingales complaining Notes ;", "Tune my diſtrefles, and record my woes.", "O thou that doſt inhabit in my breſt,", "Leave not the Manſion ſo long Tenantleſſe,", "Left growing ruinous, the building fall,", "And leave no memory of what it was,", "Repaire me with thy prefence, Silvia :", "Thou Gentle Nymph, cheriſh thy forlorn Swaine.", "What hallowing, and what itirre is this to day ?", "There are my mates, that make their wilſ their Law,\nHave ſome unhappy paſſenger in chace ;", "They love me well, yet I have much to doe", "To keepe them from uncivill outrages,", "Withdraw thee Valentine : who's this comes here ?", "Pro. Madam, this ſervice I have done for you,", "(Though you reſpect not ought your ſervant doth)", "To hazzard life, and reskew you from him,", "That would have forc'd your honour and your love,", "Vouchſate me for my meed, but one ſaire looke :", "(A smaller boone than this, I cannot beg,", "And leſſe than this, I am fute you cannot give.)", "Val. How like a dreame is this ? I fee and heare :", "Love, lend me patience to forſcate a while.", "Sil. O miferable, unhappy that I am.", "Pro. Vnhappy were you (Madam) ere I came :", "But by my comming, I have made you happy.", "Sil. By thy approach thou mak'st me moſt unhappy.", "In. And me, when he approcheth to your prefence.", "Sil. Had I beene feazed by a hungry Lion,", "I would have beene a breakſaft to the Beaſt,\nRather than have falſe Protheus reskew me :", "O heaven be judge how I love Valentine,", "Whose life's as tender to me as my ſoule,", "And full as much ( for more there cannot be)", "I doe deteft falſe perjur'd Protheus :", "Therefore be gone, ſolicit me no more.", "Pro. What dangerous action, tood it next to death,\nWould I not undergoe for one calme looke :\nOh, tis the curſe in Love, and ſtill approv'd,", "When women cannot love, where they're below'd.", "Sil. When Protheus cannot love, where he's below'd :", "Reade over Iulia's heart, (thy firſt beſt Love)", "For whoſe dear ſake thou didſt then rend thy faith", "Into a thousand oaths ; and all those oaths,", "Defended into perjury to deceive me,", "Thou haſt no faith left now, unleſſe thou'dſt two,", "And that's farre worſe than none : better have none", "Then plural faith, which is too much by one :", "Thou counterfeit to thy true friend.", "Pro. In love,", "Who reſpects friend?", "Sil. All men but Protheus.", "Pro. Nay, if the gentle ſpirit of moving words", "Can no way change you to a milder forme ;", "Ile move you like a Souldier, at armes end,", "And love you 'gainſt the nature of love : force ye.", "Sil. Oh heaven.", "Pro. Ile force thee yeeld to my defire.", "Val. Ruſſian, let goe that rude uncivill touch,", "Thou friend of an ill ſashion.", "Pro. Valentine!", "Val. Thou common friend, that's without faith or love.", "For this is a friend now : Thou treacherous man,", "Thou haſt beguil'd my hopes; nought but mine eye", "Could have perfwaded me : now I dare not ſay", "I have one friend alive ; thou wouldſt diſprove me ;", "Who ſhould be truſted now, when ones right hand", "Is perjured to the boſome ? Protheus", "I am forſy I muſt never truſt thee more,", "But count the world a ſtranger for thy ſake :", "The private wound is deepeſt : oh time, moſt accuſt :", "'Mouſt all foes, that a friend ſhould be the worſt?", "Pro. My ſhame and guilt confounds me :", "Forgive me Valentine : if hearty forrow", "Be a ſuſufficient Ranſome for offence,", "I tender't heere : I doe as truly ſuffer,", "Asere I did commit.", "Val. Then I am paid :", "And once againe, I doe receive thee honeft ;", "Who by Repentance is not ſatisfied,", "Is nor of heaven, nor earth ; for theſe are pleas'd :", "By Penitence th'Eternals wrath's appeas'd :", "And that my love may appeare plaine and free,", "All that was mine, in Silvia, I give thee.", "In. Oh me unhappy.", "Pro. Looke to the Boy.", "Val. Why, Boy ?", "Why Wag: how now? what's the matter ? Looke up: ſpeak.", "In. O good fir, my Maſter charg'd me to deliver a Ring\nto Madam Silvia : which (out of my neglect) was never", "Pro. Where is that Ring ? Boy ?", "(done.", "In. Heere'tis : this is it.", "Pro. How ? let me fee.", "Why this is the Ring I gave to Iulia.", "In. Oh, cry you mercy fir, I have miſtooke :", "This is the Ring you ſent to Silvia.", "Pro. But how cam'ſt thou by this Ring ? at my depart\nI gave this unto Iulia.", "In. And Iulia her ſelſe did give it me,", "And Iulia her ſelſe hath brought it bither.", "Pro. How ? Iulia ?", "In. Behold her that gave ayme to all thy oathes,\nAnd entertain'd 'em deepely in her heart.", "How oft haſt thou with perjury cleft the roote ?", "Oh Protheus, let this habit make thee bluſh.", "D", {"bbox": [847, 1

THE
Merry Wives of WINDFOR.

Actus Primus, Scena Prima.

Enter Justice Shallow, Slender, Sir Hugh Evans, Master Page. Falstaffe, Bardolph, Nym, Piersoll, Anne Page, Mifstaffe Ford, Mifstaffe Page, Simple.

Shallow.

In Hugh, perfwade me not: I will make a Star-
Chamber matter of it, if hee were twenty Sir
Iohn Falstaffe, he shall not abufe Robert Shallow,
Elquire.

(Coram.)

Slen. In the County of Gloucester, Justice of Peace and
Shal. I (Colen Slender) and Cuff-alorum.

Slen. I, and Rato-lorum too; and a Gentleman borne
(Master Parfon) who writes himfelfe Armigero, in any
Bill, Warrant, Quittance, or Obligation, Armigero.

Shal. I that I doe, and have done any time thefe three
hundred yeeres.

Slen. All his fucceffors (gone before him) hath don't:
and all his Anceftors (that come after him) may: they
may give the dozen white Laces in their Coat.

Shal. It is an old Coat.

Evans. The dozen white Lowfes doe become an old
Coat well: it agrees well paffiant: It is a familiar beaf to
man, and signifies Love.

Shal. The Luce is the fresh-fih, the falt-fih, is an old Coat.

Slen. I may quarter (Coz.)

Shal. You may, by marrying.

Evans. It is marrying indeed, if he quarter it.

Shal. Not a whit.

Evans. Yes per-lady: if he has a quarter of your Coat,
there is but three skirts for your felfe, in my simple con-
jectures; but that is all one: if Sir John Falstaffe
have committed dilparagements unto you, I am of the Church
and will be glad to doe my benevolence, to make attone-
ments and compremifes betweene you.

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

Evans. It is not meet the Councell heare of a Ryot; there
is no feare of Got in a Ryot: The Councell (looke you)
shall defire to heare the feare of Got, and not to heare a
Riot: take you viza-ments in that.

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

Evans. It is petter that friends is the fword, and end it:
and there is alfo another device in my praine, which per-
adventure prings good difcrections with it. There is
Anne-Page, which is daughter to Mafter Thomas Page,
which is pretty virginity.

Slen. Miftris Anne Page? She has browne haire, and
fpeakes like a woman.

Evans. It is that ferry perfon for all the orld, as juſt as
you will defire, and ſeven hundred pounds of monies, and
gold, &c. & ſilver, is her Grand-fire upon his deaths-bed. (Got
deliver to a joyfull Refuſection) give, when he is able to
overtake ſeventcene yeeres old. It were a good motion, if
we leave our pribbles and prabbles, and defire a marriage
betweene Matter Abraham, and Miftris Anne Page.

Slen. Did her Grand-fire leave her ſeven hundred
pound?

Evans. I, and her father make her a petter penny.

Slen. I know the yong Gentlewoman, shee has good
gifts.

Evans. Seven hundred pounds, and poſſibilitie is goot
gifts.

Shal. Well, let us fee honest Mr. Page: is Falstaffe there?

Evans. Shall I tell you a lye? I doe deſpife a lyer, as I
doe deſpife one that is falſe, or as I deſpife one that is not
true: the Knight Sir John is there, and I beſeech you bee
ruled by your well-willers: I will peat the doore for Mr.
Page. What hoa? Got bleſſe your houſe here.

Mr. Page. Who's there?

Evans. Here is got's pleſſing and your friend, and Iu-
ſtice Shallow, and here's yong Maſter Slender: that perad-
ventures ſhall tell you another tale, if matters grow to
your likings.

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

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

M. Page. Sir, I thanke you.

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

M. Page. I am glad to fee you good Maſter Slender.

Slen. How do's your fallow Greyhound, Sir, I heard
fay he was out-run on Cotfale.

M. Pa. It could not be judg'd fir.

Slen. You'll not confefſe, you'll not confefſe.

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

M. Page. A Cur fir.

Shal. Sir, hee's a good Dog, and a faire Dog, can there
be more faid? he is good, and faire. Is Sir John Falstaffe
here?

M. Page. Sir, he is within: and I would I could do a
good office betweene you.

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

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

M. Page. Sir, he doth in ſome fort confefſe it.

D 2

Shal.

The merry Wives of Windsor.

43

Qui. I am glad he is so quiet : if he had been throughly moved, you should have heard him so loud, and so mellancholly : but notwithstanding man, Ile doe for your Master what good I can : and the very yea, and the no is, the French Doctor my Master, (I may call him my Master, looke you, for I keepe his house ; and I wash, ring, brew, bake, co wre, dreffe meat and drinke, make the beds, and doe all my felfe.)

Sim. 'Tis a great charge to come under one bodies hand.

Qui. Are you a-vid's d'o'that? you shall find it a great charge : and to be up early, and downe late: but notwithstanding, (to tell you in your eare, I would have no words of it) my Master himfelfe is in love with Miftris Anne Page: but notwithstanding that I know Ans mind, that's neither heere nor there.

Cas. You, Iack'Nape: givie'-a this Letter to Sir Hugh, by gar it is a ſhallenge : I will cut his troat in de Parke, and I will teach a ſcurvy Iack-a-nape Prieſt to meddle, or make : —you may be gon : it is not good you tarry here: by gar I will eat all his two ſtones: by gar, hee shall not have a ſrone to trowt at his dogge.

Zei. Alas: he ſpeakes but for his friend.

Cas. It is no matter'a ver dat: doe nor you tell-a-me dat I ſhall have Anne Page for my ſelfe? by gar, I will kill de Iack-Prieſt: and I have appointed mine Hoſt of de Iarteer to meaſure our weapon: by gar, I will my ſelfe have Anne Page.

Qui. Sir, the maid loves you, and all shall be well: We must give folkes leave to prate : what the good-jer.

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

Qui. You shall have An-fooles head of your owne: No, I know Ans mind for that: never a woman in Wind-for knowes more of Ans mind then I doe, nor can doe more then I doe with her, I thanke heaven.

Fenton. Who's within there, hoa ?

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

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

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

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

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

Fen. Shall I do any good thinkſt thou? shall I not looke my ſuit?

Qui. Troth Sir, all is in his hands above : but notwithstanding (Master Fenton) Ile be ſworne on a booke ſhee loves you : have not your Worſhip a wart above your eye ?

Fen. Yes marry have I, what of that?

Qui. Well, thereby hangs a tale : good faith, it is ſuch another Nan; (but (I deteft) an honeſt maid as ever broke bread : we had an houres talke of that wart; I ſhall never laugh but in that maids company : but (indeed) ſhe is given too much to Allcholy and mufing, but for you —well—goe to—

Fen. Well: I ſhall fee her to day: hold, there's money for thee: Let me have thy voyce in my behalfe: if thou feeſt her before me, commend me.

Qui. Will I ? Ifaith that we will: And I will tell your Worſhip more of the Wart, the next time we have confidence, and of other woocers.

Fen. Well, farewell, I am in great hafe now.

Qui. Farewell to your Worſhip: truely an honeſt Gentleman: but Anne loves him not: for I know Ans mind as well as another do's: out upon't: what have I forgot?

Exit.

Actus secundus : Scæna Prima,

Enter Miftris Page, Miftris Ford, Master Page, Master Ford, Fistoll, Nim, Quickly, Host, shallow.

Miftr. Page. What, have I ſcap'd Love-letters in the holly-day-time of my beauty, and am I now a ſubject for them ? let me fee ?

Ask me no reaſon why I love you, for though love use vea-
jon for his preciſion, he admis him not for his Counſailour :
you are not yong, no more am I: goe to them, there's ſimpathy :
you are merry, fo am I: ha, ha, then there's more ſimpathy :
you love Sacke, and so doe I: would your deſire better ſimpathy ?
Let it ſuſſice thee (Miftris Page) at the least, if the Love of
Souldier can ſuſſice, that I love thee; I will not ſay pitty me,
'tis not a Souldier-like phraſe; but I ſay, love me :

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

Or any kind of light, with all his might,

For thee to fight.

John Falſtaffe.

What a Herod of Iury is this ? O wicked, wicked world:
One that is well-nye worne to pecees with age
To show himſelfe a yong Gallant ? What an unwayed
Bchavoun hath this Flemish drunkard pickt
(with The devills name) out of my converſation, that he dares
In this manner affay me ? why, he hath not beene thrice
In my Company : what should I ſay to him ? I was then
Frugall of my mirth : (heaven forgive me :) why Ile
Exhibit a Bill in the Parliament for the putting downe
of men : how ſhall I be reveng'd on him ? for reveng'd I
will be ? as ſure as his guts are made of puddings.

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

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

Miftr. Ford. Nay, Ilenere believeve that; I have to ſhow to the contrary.

Miftr. Page. 'Faith but you doe in my mind.

Miftr. Ford. Well: I doe then: yet I ſay, I could ſhow you to the contrary : O Miftris Page, give me ſome coun-ſaile.

Miftr. Page. What's the matter, woman ?

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

Miftr. Page. Hang the trifle (woman) take the honor : what is it ? diffence with trifles : what is it ?

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

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

Miftr. Ford. We burne day-light, heere, read, read : perceive how I might be knighted, I ſhall thinke the worſe of fat men, as long as I have an eye to make diſſence of mens liking ; and yet hee would not ſwcare :

praise

The merry Wives of Windsor.

44

praise womens modesty: and gave such orderly and well-behaved reproofe to all uncomelineffe, that I would have fwone his diffposition would have gone to the truth of his words: but they doe no more adhere and keepe place together, then the hundred Palmesto the tune of Greenflenes: What tempeft (I troa) threw this Whale, (with fo many Tuns of oyle in his belly) a'fhoare at Windsor? How shall I be revenged on him? I thinke the beft way were to entertaine him with hope, till the wicked fire of luft have melted him in his owne greace: Did you ever heare the like?

*Mif. Page.* Letter for letter; but that the name of *Page* and *Ford* differ: to thy great comfort in this myflery of I opinionions, heer's the twyn-brother of thy Letter: but let thine inherit firſt, for I proteſt mine never ſhall: I warrant he hath a thouſand of theſe Letters, writ with blanke-ſpace for different names (ſue more:) and theſe are of the ſcond edition: he will print them out of doubt: for he cares not what he puts into the preſſe, when he would put us two: I had ra: her be a Giantefle, and lye under Mount Pelion: Well, I will find you twenty laſci-vious Turtles ere one chattle man.

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

*Mif. Page.* Nay, I know not: it makes me almoſt rea-dy to wrangle with mine owne honefly: Ile entertaine my ſelſe like one that I am not acquainted withall: for ſure unleſſe he know ſome ſtraine in me, that I know not my ſelſe, he would never have boorded me in this ſury.

*Mif. Ford.* Boording, call you it? Ile be ſure to keepe him aboue decke.

*Mif. Page.* So will I: if he come under my hatches, Ile never to Sea againe: Let's be reveng'd on him, let's appoint him a meeting: give him a flow of comfort in his ſuit, and lead him on with a fine baited delay, till he hath pawn'd his horſes to mine Hoſt of the Garter.

*Mif. Ford.* Nay, I will conſent to act any villany against him, that may not ſuſily the charineſſe of our honefly: oh that my husband ſaw this Letter: it would give eternal food to his jelouſe,

*Mif. Page.* Why looke where he comes; and my good man too: hee's as farre from jelouſe, as I am from gi-ving him cauſe, and that (I hope) is an unmeaſurable diſtance.

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

*Mif. Page.* Let's conſult together against this greaſe Knight: Comethither.

*Ford.* Well: I hope, it be not ſo.

*Pisf.* Hope is a curtail-dog in ſome affaires: Sir John affects thy wife.

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

*Pisf.* He wooes both high and low, both rich and poor, both yong and old, one with another (*Ford*) he loves thy Gally-maw ſiry (*Ford*) perpendel.

*Ford.* Love my wife?

*Pisf.* With liver, burning hot: prevent: Or goe thou like Sir Alleon he, with Ring-wood at thy heeleſ: O, odious is the name,

*Ford.* What name Sir?

*Pisf.* The horne I fay: Farewell: Take heed, have open eye, for theeves doe foot by night. Take heed, ere ſommer comes, or Cuckoo-birds doe ſing. Away fir Corporall Nim:

Believe it (*Page*) he ſpeakes fence.

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

*Nim.* And this is true: I like not the humor of lying: he hath wronged me in ſome humors: I should have borne the humour'd Letter to her: but I have a ſword: and it shall bite upon my neceſſity: he loves your wife; There's the ſhort, and the long: My name is Corporall Nim: I ſpeake, and I avouch; 'tis true: my name is Nim: and Falfaffe loves your wife: adieu, I love not the honour of bread and cheese: adieu.

*Page.* The humour of it (quoth a?) heer's a fellow frights Eng. in ſh out of his wits.

*Ford.* I will feeke out Falfaffe.

*Page.* I never heard ſuch a drawling affecting rogue.

*Ford.* If I doe find it: well,

*Page.* I will not believe ſuch a Cataian, though the Prie ſt o'th' Towne commended him for a true man.

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

*Page.* How now Meg?

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

*Mif. Ford.* How now (*Iweet Franke*)? why art thou melancholy?

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

Get you home, goe.

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

*Mif. Page.* Have with you: you'll come to dinner George? Looke who comes yonder: ſhe shall be our Meſſenger to this paltry Knight.

*Mif. Ford.* Truſt me, I thought on her: ſhee'll ſit it.

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

*Qui.* I forſtooth: and I pray how do's good Miftreſſe Anne?

*Mif. Page.* Goe in with us and fee: we have an hour's talke with you.

*Page.* How now Maſter Ford.

*Ford.* You heard what this knave told me, did you not?

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

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

*Page.* Hang 'em flaves: I doe not thinke the Knight would offer it, But theſe that accuſe him in his intent towards our wives, are a yoake of his diſcarded men: very rogues, now they be out of ſervice.

*Ford.* Were they his men?

*Page.* Marry were they.

*Ford.* I like it never the better for that, Do's he lye at the Garter?

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

*Ford.* I doe not miſdoubt my wife: but I would bee loath to turne them together: a man may be too confident: I would have nothing lye on my head: I cannot be thus ſatisſed.

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

*Hoſt.* How now Bully-Rooke: thou'rt a Gentleman Caveleiro Inſtice, I fay.

*Shal.* I follow, (mine Hoſt) I follow: Good-even, and twenty (good Maſter Page.) Maſter Page, will you go with us? we have ſport in hand.

*Hoſt.* Tell him Caveleiro-Inſtice: tell him Bully-Rooke.

*Shal.* Sir, there is a fray to be ſough, betweene Sir Hugh the Welch Prieſt, and Caius the French Doctor.

*Ford.* Good

The merry Wives of Windsor.

45

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

Hoſt. What fait thou, my Bully-Rooke ?

Shal. Will you goe with us to behold it? My merry Hoſt hath had the meafuring of their weapons; and (I thinke) hath appointed them contrary places: for (beleeve me) I heare the Parfon is no Ieſter: harke, I will tell you what our ſport ſhall be.

Hoſt. Halt thou no ſuit againſt my Knight ? my gueſt Cavaleire ?

Shal. None, I proteſt but I le give you a bottle of burn'd Sacke, to give me reconnſe to him, and tell him my name is Broome : onely for a jefl.

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

Shal. Have with you mine Hoſt.

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

Shal. Tut fir: I could have told you more: In theſe times you ſtand on diſtance: your Paſſes, Stoccado's, and I know not what: 'tis the heart (After Page)'tis heere, 'tis heere: I have ſeene the time, with my long ſword, I would have made you ſoure tall ſollowes skip like Rattes.

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

Page. Have with you: I had rather heare them ſcold, then fight.

Ford. Though Page be a ſecure ſoole, and ſtands ſo firmly on his wives frailty; yet, I cannot put-off my opinion ſo eafily: ſhe was in his company at Pages house: and what they made there, I know not. Well, I will looke further into', and I have a diſguſe, to found Falſaffe; if I find her honeſt, I lofe not my labour: if ſhe be other-wife, 'tis labour well beſtowed.

Exeunt.

## Scena Secunda.

Enter Falſaffe, Piftoll, Robin, Quickly, Bardolſe, Ford.

Fal. I will not lend thee a penny.

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

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

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

Fal. Reaſon, you roague, reaſon: thinkſt thou Ile endanger my ſoule, gratis ? at a word, hang no more about me, I am no gibbet for you: goe, a ſhort knife, and a throng, to your Mannor of Picky-batch: goe, you'll not beare a Letter for me you roague ? you ſtand upon your honor: why, (thou unconſinable bafeſſe) it is as much as I can dee to keepe the terme of my honor precife: I, I, I my ſelſe ſometimes, leaving the ſcare of heaven on

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

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

Rob. Sir, here's a woman would ſpake with you.

Fal. Let her approach.

Qui. Give your worſhip good morrow.

Fal. Good-morrow, good-wife.

Qui. Not ſo and't pleafe your worſhip.

Fal. Good maid then.

Qui. Ile be ſworne,

As my mother was the firſt houre I was borne.

Fal. I doe beleeve the ſwearer; what with me ?

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

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

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

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

Qui. Your worſhip ſayes very true; I pray your worſhip come a little neerer this wayes.

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

Qui. Are they ſo ? heaven bleſſe them, and make them his ſervants:

Fal. Well; Miftreſſe Ford, what of her ?

Qui. Why, Sir; ſhees a good creature; I'd, lord, your Worſhip's a wanton: well, heaven forgive you, and all of us, I pray—

Fal. Miltreſſe Ford; come, Miltreſſe Ford.

Qui. Marry this is the ſhort, and the long of it: you have brought her into ſuch a Canaries, as 'tis wonderfull: the beſt Courtier of them all (when the Court lay at Windſor) could never have brought her to ſuch a Canary: yet there has beene Knights, and Lords, and Gentlemen, with their Coaches; I warrant you Coach after Coach, letter after letter, gift after gift, ſmelling to ſweetly: all Muske, and ſo ruiſhling, I warrant you, in ſilke and gold, and in ſuch alligant termes, and in ſuch wine and ſuger of the beſt, and the faireſt, that would have wonne any womans heart: and I warrant you, they could never get an eye-winke of her: I had my ſelſe twenty Angels given me this morning, but I defie all Angels (in any ſuch ſort, as they ſay) but in the way of honesty: and I warrant you, they could never get her ſo much as ſippe on a cup with the prowdeſt of them all, and yet there has beene Earles: nay, (which is more) Pentioners, but I warrant you all is one with her.

Fal. But what ſayes he to me ? be briefe my good ſheer Mercury.

Qui. Marry, he hath receiv'd your Letter: for the which ſhethaakes you a thouſand times; and he gives you to notiſe, that her husband will be abſence from his houſe, betweene ten and eleven.

Fal. Ten, and eleven.

Qui. I, forfooth: and then you may come and see the picture (he ſayes) that you wot of: After Ford her houſand band will be from home: alas, the (weet) woman leades an ill life with him: hee's a very jealousie-man; he ſeads a very frampold life with him, (good hart.)

Fal. Ten, and eleven.

Woman

The merry Wives of Windsor.

64

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

Qui. Why, you fay well: But I have another meffenger to your worSHIP: Miftrefſe Page hath her hearty commendations to you too: and let me tell you in your ear, (hée's as farrous a civill moded) wife, and one (I tell you) that will not miffie you morning nor evening prayer, as any is in WIndfor, who ere be the other: and the bade me tell your worSHIP, that her husband is feldome from home, but ſhe hopes there will come a time. I never knew a woman fo deate upon a man; furely I thinke you have charmes, la: yes in truth.

Fal. Not I, I affure thee; fetting the attraction of my good parts adife, I have no other charmes.

Qui. Bleffing on your heart for't.

Fal. But I pray thee tell me this: has Fords wife, and Pages wife acquainted each other, how they love me?

Qui. That were a jefl indeed: they have not fo little grace I hope, that were a tricke indeed: But Miftris Page would defire you to fend her year little Page of all loves: her husband has a marvellous infedtion to the little Page: and truly Maſler Page is an honest man: never a wife in this World, or for a better life then ſhe do's: doe what ſhe will, ſay what ſhe will, take all, pay all, go to bed when ſhe lift, rife when the lift, all is as the will: and truly ſhe deferves it; for if there be a kind woman in WIndfor, the is one: you muſt fend her your Page, no remedie.

Fal. Why, I will.

Qu. Nay, but doe fo then, and looke you, he may come and goe betwecn you both: and in any cafe have a nay-word, that you may know one anothers mind, and the Boy never need to underſtand any thing; for 'tis not good that children ſhould know any wickedneſſe: old folkes you know, have diſcretion, as they ſay, and know the world.

Fal. Fare thee-well, commend me to them both: there's my purſe, I am yet thy debter: Boy, goe along with this woman, this newes diſtracts me.

Pisſt. This Puncke is one of Cupids Carriers,
Clap on more failes, purſue: up with your fightes:
Give fire: ſhe is my prize, or Ocean whelme them all.

Fal. Saſt thou fo (old lacke) goe thy wayes: Ile make more of thy old body then I have done: will they yet looke after thee ? wilt thou after the expence of ſo much money, be now a gainer ? good body, I thanke thee: let them ſay 'tis groſſely done, ſo it be fairely done, no matter.

Bar. Sir John, there's one Maſler Broome below would faine ſpeake with you, and be acquainted with you; and hath ſent you worſhip a mornings draught of Sacks.

Fal. Broome is his name?

Baſſt. I, Sir.

Fal. Call him in: ſuch Breames are welcome to me, that ore' flowes ſuch liquor: ah, ha, Miftrefle Ford and Miftrefle Page, have I encompaſſed you? goe to, via.

Ford. Bleſſe you fir.

Fal. And you fir: would you ſpeake with me?

Ford. I make bold, to preſſe, with ſo little preparation upon you.

Fal. You'r welcome, what's your will? give us leave Drawer.

Ford. Sir, I am a Gentleman that have ſpent much, my name is Broome.

Fal. Good Maſler Broome, I defire more acquaintance of you.

Ford. Good Sir John, I ſue for yours: not to charge you, for I muſt let you underſtand, I thinke my ſelte in

better plight for a Lender, then you are: the which hath fomething emboldned me to this unſeaſon'd intrusion: for they ſay, if money goe before, all wayes doe lye o pen.

Fal. Money is a good ſouldier (Sir) and will on.

Ford. Troth, and I have a bag of money here troubles me: if you will help to hear it (Sir John) take all, or halfe, for eating me of the carriage.

Fal. Sir, I know not how I may deferve to be your Porter.

Ford. I will tell you fir, if you will give me the hea ring.

Fal. Speake (good Maſter Broome) I shall be glad to be your fervant.

Ford. Sir, I heare you are a Scholler: (I will be briefe with you) and you have beene a man long knowne to me, though I had never ſo good meane as detire, to make my ſelte acquainted with you. I ſhall diſcover a thing to you, wherein I muſt very much lay open mine owne impertedation: but (good Sir John) as you have one eye upon my follies, as you heare them unfolded, turne another into the Regifter of your owne, that I may paffe with a reproofe the easier, that you your ſelte know how cafe it is to be fuch an offender.

Fal. Very well Sir, proceed.

Ford. There is a Gentlewoman in this Towne, her husbands name is Ford.

Fal. Well Sir.

Ford. I have long lov'd her, and I proteſt to you, beflowed much on her: followed her with a doating obſervance: Ingroſs'd opportunities to meete her: fee'd devery flight occafion that could but nigardly give mee fight of her: not only bought many prefents to give her, but have given largely to many, to know what ſhee would have given: briefly, I have purfu'd her, as Love hath purfued me, which hath beene on the wing of all occafions: but whatsoever I have merited, either in my mind, or in my meane, meede I am fire I have received none, unleſſe Experience be a lewell, that I have purchased at an infinite rate, and that hath taught me to ſay this.

"Love like a shadow flies, when neſtance Love purſues,

"Purſuing that that flies, and flying what purſues.

Fal. Have you receiv'd no promife of satisfact ion at her hands?

Ford. Never.

Fal. Have you importun'd her to ſucha purpofe?

Ford. Never.

Fal. Of what quality was your love then?

Ford. Like a faire houſe, built on another mans ground, ſo that I have loft my edifice, by miftaking the place, where I ecreſted it.

Fal. To what purpofe have you unfolded this to me?

Ford. When I have told you that, I have told you all: Some ſay, that though ſhe appeare honest to me, yet in other places ſhe enlargeth her mirth, ſo farre, that there is ſhrewd conſtruction made of her. Now (Sir John) here is the heart of my purpofe: you are a Gentleman of excellent breeding, admirable diſcourſe, of great admittance, authentieke in your place and perſon, generally allow'd for your many war-like, court-like, and learned preparations.

Fal. O Sir.

Ford. Beleve it, for you know it: there is money, ſpend it, ſpend it, ſpend more; ſpend all I have, only give

The merry Wives of Windsor.

47

give me so much of your time in exchange of it, as to lay
an amiable fiege to the honeely of this *Fords* wife : as he
your Art of wooing ; win her to consent to you : if any
man may, you may as foone as any.

*Fal.* Would it apply well to the vehemency of your affection that I should win what you would enjoy ? Me-thinks you prefer to your selfe very prepofterously.

*Ford.* O, understand my drift : the dwels so securely on the excellency of her honor, that the folly of my foule dares not prefent it selfe : he is too bright to be looked against. Now, could I come to her with any detection in my hand ; my defires had inſtance and argment to commend themſelves, I could drive her then from the ward of her purity, her reputation, her marriage-vow, and a thouſand other her defences, which now are too too strongly embattailed against me: what ſay you too't, Sir *John*.

*Fal.* Maſter *Broome*, I will firſt make bold with your money : next, give me your hand : and laſt, as I am a Gentleman, you ſhall, if you will, enjoy *Fords* wife.

*Ford.* O good Sir,

*Fal.* I ſay you ſhall,

*Ford.* Want no money (Sir *John*) you ſhall want none.

*Fal.* Want no *Mistresse Ford* (Maſter *Broome*) you ſhall want none: I ſhall be with her (I may tell you) by her owne appointment, even as you came in to me, her affiſant, or goe-betweene, parted from me : I ſay I ſhall be with her betweene ten and eleven: for at that time the jealous-rafcally-knave her husband will be forth: come you to me at night, you ſhall know how I ſpeed.

*Ford.* I am bleſt in your acquaintance : doe you know Ford Sir ?

*Fal.* Hang him (poore Cockoldly knave) I know him not: yet I wrong him to call him poore : They ſay the jealous wittolly-knave hath mafles of money, for the which his wife ſeemes to me well-favour'd. I will ſeue her as the key of the Cockold-rogues Coffer, and there's my harvest-home.

*Ford.* I would you knew *Ford*, fir, that you might avoid him, if you ſaw him.

*Fal.* Hang him, mechanicaſt-falt-butter rogue : I will flare him out of his wits : I will awe-him with my cudgell : it shall hang like a Meteor or the Cuckolds hornes: Maſter *Broome*, thou ſhalt know, I will predominate over the pezant, and thou ſhalt lye with his wife. Come to me ſoon at night : *Ford's* knave, and I will aggravate his ſtle : thou (Maſter *Broome*) ſhalt know him for knave, and Cuckold. Come to me ſoon at night. *Exit*.

*Ford.* What a damn'd Epicurian-Raſcall is this ? my heart is ready to cracke with impatience : who ſayes this is improvident jealousie ? my wife hath ſent to him, the howre is fixt, the match is made : would any man have thought this ? ſee the hell of having a ſalſe woman : my bed ſhall be abus'd, my Coffers ranſackd, my reputatioungawne at, and I ſhall not onely receive this villanous wrong, but ſtand under the adoption of abhominable termes, and by him that does me this wrong : Termes, names: *Amaimon* ſounds well; *Lucifer*, well: *Barbaron*, well : yet they are Divels additions, the names of fiends: But Cuckold, Wittoll, Cuckold ? the Divell himſelfe hath not ſuch a name. *Page* is an Aſſe, a ſecure Aſſe : he will truſt his wife, he will not be jealous : I will rather truſt a *Flaming* with my butter, Parſon *Hugh* the *Wellſman* with my Cheeſe, an *Irish-man* with my Aqua-vitæ-bottle, or a Theſe to walke my ambling gelding, than my wife with her ſelſe. Then ſhe plots, then ſhe rumi-

nates, then he devifes : and what they thinke in their hearts they may effect ; they will breake their hearts but they will effect. Heaven be prais'd for my jealousie: eleven o'clocke the howre, I will prevent this, detect my wife, be reveng'd on *Falstaffe*, and laugh at *Page*. I will about it, better three hours too ſoon, then a mynute too late : ſie, ſie, ſie : Cuckold, Cuckold, Cuckold.

*Exit.*

## *Scena Tertia.*

*Enter Caius, Rugby, Shallow, Slender, Hoſt.*

*Caius.* Iacke Rugby.

*Rug.* Sir.

*Caius.* Var is the clocke, Iacke.

*Rug.* 'Tis paſt the houre (Sir) that Sir *Hugh* promis'd to meet.

*Cai.* By gar, he has ſave his ſonſe, dat he is no-come : he has pray his Pible well, dat he is no-come : by gar (Iacke Rugby) he is dead already, if he be come.

*Rug.* He is wife Sir : he knew your worſhip would kill him if he came.

*Cai.* By gar, de herring is no dead, ſo as I will kill him: take your Rapier, (Iacke) I will tell you how I will kill him.

*Rug.* Alas fir, I cannot fence.

*Cai.* Villany, take your Rapier.

*Rug.* Forbeare : her's company.

*Hoſt.* 'Bleſſe thee, bully-Doctor.

*Shal.* 'Save you Mr. Doctor *Caius*.

*Page.* Now good Mr. Doctor.

*Shen.* 'Give you good-morrow, fir.

*Caius.* Var be all you one, two, three, four, come for?

*Hoſt.* To ſee thee fight, to ſee thee ſoigne, to ſee thee traverſe, to ſee thee here, to ſee thee there, to ſee thee paffe thy punſto, thy flocke, thy reverſe, thy diſtance, thy montant : Is he dead, my Ethiopian? Is he dead, my Fran-cifco ? ha Bully ? what ſayes my *Eculapins*? my *Galien*? my heart of Elder ? ha ? is he dead bully-Stale ? is he dead ?

*Cai.* By gar, he is de Coward-Iacke Prief of de world: he is not ſhow his face.

*Hoſt.* Thou art a Caſtation-king-Vrinall : *Hoſtor* of Greece (my Boy)

*Cai.* I pray you beare witneſſe, that me have ſlay, ſixe or ſeven, two tree howres for him, and he is no-come.

*Shal.* He is the wifer man (Mr. Doctor) he is a curer of ſonſes, and you a curer of bodies : if you should fight, you goe againſt the haire of your proſeffions : is it not true, Maſter *Page*?

*Page.* Maſter *Shallow*; you have your ſelſe beene a great fighter, though now a man of peace.

*Shal.* Body-kins Mr. *Page*, though I now be old, and of peace; if I ſee a ſword out, my finger itches to make one: though we are Inſtices, and Doctors, and Church-men (Mr. *Page*) we have ſome ſale of our youth in us, we are the ſons of women (Mr. *Page*.)

*Page.* 'Tis true, Mr. *Shallow*.

*Shal.* It will be found ſo, (Mr. *Page*) Mr. Doctor *Caius*, I am come to fetch you home : I am ſworne of the peace : you have ſhew'd your ſelſe a wife Phyſician, and fir *Hugh* hath ſhown himſelfe a wife and patient Churchman : you muſt goe with me, Mr. Doctor.

*Hoſt.*

The merry Wives of Windsor.

48

Hoff. Pardon, Gueft-Inflict; a Mounfeur Mockewater.

Cai. Mocke-water ? vat is vat ?

Hoff. Mocke-water, in our English tongue, is Valour
(Bully.)

Cai. By gar, then I have as much Mocke-water as de
Englifhman; fcuruy-lack-dog-Prieft : by gar, me will cut
his cares.

Hoff. He will Clapper-claw thee tightly (Bully.)

Cai. Clapper-de-claw ? vat is vat ?

Hoff. That is, he will make thee amends.

Cai. By gar, me do looke he shall clapper-de-claw me,
for by-gar, me will have it.

Hoff. And I will provoke him to't, or let him wag.

Cai. Me tanck you for dat.

Hoff. And moreover, (Bully) but first, Mr. Ghuuft,
and Mr. Page, and ecke Cavaleiro Slender, go you through
the Towne to Frogmore.

Page. Sir Hugh is there, is he?

Hoff. He is there, fee what humor he is in : and I will
bring the Doctor about by the Fields : will it do well ?

Shal. We will doe it.

All. Adieu, good Mr. Doctor.

Cai. By gar, me will kill de Prieft, for he speake for a
lacke-an-Ape to Anne Page.

Hoff. Let him dye : fheath thy impatience; throw cold
water on thy Choller : goe about the fields with me
through Frogmore, I will bring thee where Miftris Anne
Page is, at a farme-houfe a Feafting : and thou fhalt woe
her : Cride-game, faid I well?

Cai. By-gar, mee dancke you vor dat : by gar I love
yon : and I fhall procure 'a you de good Gueft : de Earle,
de Knight, de lords, de Gentlemen, my patients.

Hoff. For the which, I will be thy adversary toward
Anne Page : faid I well ?

Cai. By-gar, 'tis good : vell faid.

Hoff. Let us wag then.

Cai. Come at my hecles, lacke Rugby.

Exemnt.

Actus Tertius, Scæna Prima.

Enter Evans, Simple, Page, Shallow, Slender, Hoff, Caius,
Rugby.

Evans. I pray you now, good Mafter Slenders serving-
man, and friend Simple by your name; which way have
you look'd for Mafter Caius, that calls himfelfe Doctor
of Phificke.

Sim. Marry Sir, the pitty-wary, the Parke-ward; e-
very way : old Windsor way, and every way but the
Towne way.

Evan. I moft fehemently defire you, you will alio
looke that way.

Sim. I will fir.

Evan. Pleffe my foule: how full of Chollors I am, and
trempling of mind: I fhall be glad it he have deceived
me: how melancholies I am ? I will knog his Vrinall a-
bout his knaves coftard, when I have good opportunities
for the orke : Pleffe my foule : To shallow Rivers to whose
falls: melodious Birds fings Madrigals: There will we make
our Peds of Rofes: and a thousand fragrant poſies. To final-
low. 'Mercy on me, I have a great diſpoſition to cry.

Melodious birds ſing Madrigall: — When as I fat in Pa-
bilon: and a thousand vagram Poſies. To shallow, etc.

Sim. Yonder he is comming, this way, Sir Hugh.

Evan. Hee's welcome : To shallow Rivers, to whose falls:
Heaven proteft the right : what weapons is he ?

Sim. No weapons, Sir : there comes my Mafter, Mr.
Shallow; and another Gentleman; from Frogmore, over
the ftile, this way.

Evan. Pray you give me my gowne, or else keepe it in
your armes.

Enter All.

Shal. How now Mafter Parfon? good morrow good
Sir Hugh: keepe a Gameſter from the dice, and a good
Student from his booke, and it is wonderfull.

Slen. Ah fweet Anne Page.

Page. 'Save you, good Sir Hugh.'

Evan. 'Pleſſe you from his mercy-fake, all of you.'

Shal. What ? the Sword, and the word ?

Doe you fludy them both, Mr. Parfon?

Page. And youthfull full, in your doublet and hofe,
this raw-rumaticke day?

Evan. I here is reafons, and caſes for it.

Page. We are come to you: to doe a good office, Mr.
Parfon.

Evan. Fery-well: what is it ?

Page. Yonder is a moſt reverend Gentleman; who (be
like) having received wrong by fome perfon, is at moſt
odds with his owne gravity and patience, that ever you
faw.

Shal. I have lived ſourefcore yeeres, and upward : I
never heard a man of his place, gravity, and learning, ſo
wide of his owne refpect.

Evan. What is he ?

Page. I thinke you know him : Mr. Doctor Caius the
renowned French Phyſitian.

Evan. Got's-will, and his paffion of my heart : I had
as lief you would tell me of a meſſe of porredge.

Page. Why ?

Evan. He has no more knowledge in Hibocrates and
Galen, and he is a knaue beſides: a cowardly knaue, as
you would deſiue to be acquainted withall.

Page. I warrant you, hce's the man I should fight with
him.

Slen. O sweet Anne Page.

Enter Caius.

Shal. It appears fo by his weapons : keepe them a-
finder : here comes Doctor Caius.

Page. Nay good Mr. Parfon, keepe in your weapon.

Shal. So doe you, good Mr. Doctor.

Hoff. Difarme them, and let them queſtion : let them
keepe their limbs whole, and hack our English.

Cai. I pray you let-a-mee ſpeake a word with your
eare; wherefore vill you not meet-a me ?

Evan. Pray you uſe your patience in good time.

Cai. By-gar, you are de Coward : de lacke dog : Iohn
Ape.

Evan. Pray you let us not be laughing-flockes to other
mens humors: I defire you in friendſhip, and I will one
way or other make you amends: I will knog your Vrinall
about your knaves Cogs-combe.

Cai. Diable, lacke Rugby, mine Hoff de Iartee, have I
not ſay for him, to kill him ? have I not at de place I did
appoint?

Evan. As I am a Chriſtians-foule, now looke you :
this is the place appointed, Ile be judgement by mine
Hoff of the Garter.

Hoff. Peace, I ſay, Gallia, and Ganle, French, and
Welch, Sonle-Curer, and Body-Curer.

Cai.

The merry Wives of Windsor.

50

Be gone, and come when you are call'd.

Mif. Page. Here comes little Robin. (with you?

Mif. Ford. How now my Eyas-Musket, what newes

Rob. My M. Sir John is come in at your backe doore
(Mif. Ford.) and requefts your company.

Mif. Pa. You little Jack-a-lent, have you bin true to us ?

Rob. I, Ile be fworne : my Mafter knowes not of your
being heere : and hath threatened to put me into everla-
fling liberty, if I tell you of it : for he fwears heel'ne turne
me away.

Mif. Page. Thon't a good boy : this fecrecy of thine
shall be a Tailor to thee, and shall make thee a new dou-
blet and hofe. Ile goe hide me.

Mif. Ford. Doe so: goe tell thy Mafter, I am alone Mi-
ftris Page, remember you your Qu.

Mif. Page. I warrant thee, if I doe not act it, hiffle me.

Mif. Ford. Goe too then : we'l'ue this unwholfome
humidity, this groſſe watry Pumpion; we'll teach him
to know Turtles from Iayes.

Enter Fal.

Fal. Have I caught thee, my heavenly Iewey ? Why
now let me dye, for I have liv'd long enough : This is the
period of my ambition : O this bleſſed houre.

Mif. Ford. Oweet Sir John.

Fal. Miftris Ford, I cannot cog, I cannot prate (Miftris
Ford) now shall I fin in my wiſh; I would thy Husband
were dead, Ile ſpeak it before the beſt lord, I would
make thee my Lady.

Mif. Ford. I your Lady Sir John ! Alas, I should be a
pittifull Lady.

Fal. Let the Court of France flew me ſuch another :
I fee how thine eye would emul ate the Diamond : Thou
hast the right arched-beauty of the brow, that becomes
the Ship-tyre, the Tyre-valiant, or any Tire of Venetian
admittance.

Mif. Ford. A plaine Kerchiefe, Sir John :

My browes become nothing eſſe, nor that well neither.

Fal. Thou art a tyrant to lay fo : thou wouldſt make
an absolute Courtier, and the firme ſ fixture of thy feote,
would give an excellent motion to thy gate, in a ſemi-
circled Farthingale. I fee what thou wert if Fortune thy
foe were not, Nature thy friend : Come, thou canſt not
hide it.

Mif. Ford. Beleeve me, there's no ſuch thing in me.

Fal. What made me love thee ? Let that perfwade
thee. Ther's ſomething extraordinary in thee : Come, I
cannot cog, and lay thou art this and that, like a many
of theſe lifping-hauthorne buds, that come like women
in mens apparell, and ſmell like Bucklers-berry in ſim-
ple time : I cannot, but I love thee, none but thee, and
thou deferuſt it.

Mif. For. Do not betray me fir, I feare you love M. Page.

Fal. Thou mightſt as well ſay, I love to walke by the
Counter-gate, which is as hatefull to me, as the reeke of
a Lime-kill.

Mif. Ford. Well, heaven knowes how I love you,
And you ſhall one day find it.

Fal. Keepe in that mind, Ile deferve it.

Mif. Ford. Nay, I muſt tell you, fo you doe ;
Or eſſe I could not be in that mind.

Within.

Rob. Miftris Ford, Miftris Ford: here's Miftris Page at
the doore, fwearing, and blowing, and looking wildly,
and would needs ſpeake with you prefently.

Fal. She ſhall not fee me, I will enſonce me behind
the Arras.

M. Ford. Pray you doe so, she's a very tatling woman.

What's the matter ? how now ?

Enter Mif. Page.

Mif. Page. O miftris Ford what have you done ?

You'r ſham'd, y'are overthrowne, y'are undone for ever.

M. Ford. What's the matter, good miftris Page?

M. Page. O weladay, miftris Ford, having an honest
man to your husband, to give him ſuch cauſe of ſupſition.

Mif. Ford. What cauſe of ſupſition ?

Mif. Page. What cauſe of ſupſition ? Out upon you :
How am I miflooke in you ?

Mif. Ford. Why (alas) what's the matter ?

Mif. Page. Your husbands comming hither (woman)
with all the Officers in Windsor, to ſearch for a Gentle-
man, that he fayes is heere now in the houſe ; by your
confent to take an ill advantage of his abſence : you are
undone.

Mif. Ford. 'Tis not so, I hope.

Mif. Page. Pray heaven it be not fo, that you have ſuch
a man heere ; but 'tis moſt certaine your husband's com-
ming, with halfe Windsor at his heeles, to ſerch for ſuch
a one, I come before to tell you: If you know your ſelfe
cleere, why I am glad of it : but if you have a friend here,
convey, convey him out. Be not amaz'd, call all your
fenſes to you, defend your reputation, or bid farewell to
your good life for ever.

Mif. Ford. What ſhall I doe? There is a Gentleman my
deere friend : and I feare not mine owne ſhame ſo much,
as his perill. I had rather then a thouſand pound he were
out of the houſe.

Mif. Page. For ſhame, never ſland (you had rather, and
you had rather:) your husband's heere at hand, bethinke
you of ſome conveyance : in the houſe you cannot hide
him. Oh, how have you deciev'd me ? Looke, heere is a
basket, if he be of any reaſonable ſtature, he may creepe
in heere, and throw ſoule linnen upon him, as if it were
going to bucking : Or it is whiting time, ſend him by
your two men to Datchet-Meade.

Mif. Ford. He's toot big to goe in there: what ſhall I doe?

Fal. Let me fee't, let me fee't, O let me fee't :

Ile in, Ile in : Follow your friends counſell, Ile in.

Mif. Page. What Sir John Faliſaffe ? Are theſe your
Letters Knight?

Fal. I love thee, helpe me away : Let me creepe in
heere : ile never

Mif. Page. Helpe to cover your maſter (boy:) Call
your men (Miftris Ford) You diſembling Knight.

Mif. Ford. What John, Robert, John; Goe, take up theſe
cloathes heere, quickly : Where's the Cowle-ſtaffe? Looke
how you drumble. Carry them to the Landrefſe in Dat-
chet-Mead : quickly, come.

Ford. 'Pray you come nere : if I ſupſect without cauſe,
Why then make ſport at me, then let me be your jeſt,
I deferve it: How now ? Whither beare you this?

Ser. To the Landrefſe forfooth ?

Mif. Ford. Why, what have you to do whither they
beare it ? You were beſt meddle with buck-waſhing.

Ford. Buck ? I would I could waſh my ſelfe of the Buck:
bucke, bucke, bucke, I bucke : I warrant you Bucke,
And of the ſeafon too ; it ſhall appeare.

Gentlemen, I have dream'd to night, Ile tell you my
dreame: heere, heere, heere be my keyes, aſſend my
Chambers, ſearch, ſeeke, find out : Ile warrant we'll
unkennell the Fox. Let me ſtop this way firſt : fo, now
uncape.

Page. Good maſter Ford, be contented :
You wrong your ſelfe too much.

Ford. True (maſter Page) up Gentlemen.
You ſhall fee ſport anon :

Follow

The merry Wives of Windsor.

Follow me Gentlemen.

Evan. This is fery fantaſticall humors and jealousies.

Caius. By gar, 'tis no-the fashion of France :

It is not jealous in France.—

Exeunt.

Page. Nay follow him (Gentlemen) fee the yfise of his fearch.

Mif. Page. Is there not a double excellency in this?

Mif. Ford. I know not which pleafes me better,

That my husband is deceived, or Sir John.

Mif. Page. What a taking was he in, when your husband askt who was in the basket?

Mif. Ford. I am halle affraid he will have need of washing: fo throwing him into the water, will doe him a benefit.

Mif. Page. Hang him difhoneſt rafcal : I would all of the fame Itraine, were in the fame diftreſſe.

Mif. Ford. I thinke my husband hath ſome ſpeciall ſufpition of Falſtaſſes being heere : I never faw him ſo groſſe in his jealousie till now.

Mif. Page. I will lay a plot to try that, and we will yet have more tricks with Falſtaſſes: his diſſolute diſtrefle will carſe obey this medicine.

Mif. Ford. Shall we ſend that foolifh Carion, Mift. Quicſky to him, and exufe his throwing into the water, and give him another hope, to betray him to another puſnifhment?

Mif. Page. We will doe it: let him be ſent for to morrow by eight a clocke to have amends.

Enter All.

Ford. I cannot find him : may be the knave bragg'd of that he could not compaſſe.

Mif. Page. Heard you that ?

Mif. Ford. You uſe me well, Mift. Ford ? doe you ?

Ford. I, I doe ſo.

Mif. Page. Heaven make you better then your thoughts

Ford. Amen.

Mi. Pa. You doe your ſe ſe mighty wrong (M. Ford)

Ford. I, I: I muſt beare it.

Ev. If there be any body in the houſe, and in the chambers, and in the coffers, and in the preſſes : heaven forgiſe my finnes.

Caius. Be gar, nor I too : there is no-bodies.

Page. Fyſky, M. Ford, are you not aſham'd? What ſpirit, what divell ſuggeſts this imagination ? I would not ha your diſtemper in this kind, for the welth of Windsor ſe ſile.

Ford. 'Tis my fault (M. Page) I ſuffer for it.

Evan. You ſuffer for a pad ſcience: your wife is as honſt a o'mans, as I will defines among ſiue thousand, and five hundred too.

Cai. By gar, I fee 'tis an honſt woman.

Ford. Well, I promiſed you a dinner: come, come, walke in the Parke, I pray you pardon me: I will hereafter make knowne to you why I have done this- Come wife, come Mi. Page, I pray you pardon me. Pray hartly pardon me.

Page. Let's go in Gentlemen, but (truſt me) we'll moſſe him: I doe invite you to morrow morning to my houſe to breaftraſt: after we'll a Birding together, I have a fine Hawke for the busſ. Shall it be to:

Ford. Anything.

En. If there is one, I ſhall make two in the Company.

Cai. If there be one, or two, I ſhall make-a-theturd.

Ford. Pray you goe, M. Page.

Evan. I pray you now remembrance to morrow on the lowſie knave, mine Holf.

Cai. Dat is good by gar, with all my heart.

Evan. A lowſie knave, to have his gibes, and his moceries.

Exeunt.

## Scena Quarta.

Enter Fenton, Anne Page, Shallow, Slender, Quicſky, Page, Mif. Page.

Fen. I fee I cannot get thy fathers love,

Therefore no more turne me to him (ſweet Nan.)

Anne. Alas, how then?

Fen. Why thou muſt be thy ſelſe.

He doth object, I am too great of birth,

And that my ſtate being gall'd with my expence,
I feeke to heale it onely by his wealth.

Befides theſe, other barres he layes before me,

My Riots paſt, my wilde Societies,

And tells me 'tis a thing impoffible

I ſhould love theſe, but as a property.

Anne. May be he tells you true.

Fen. No, heaven ſo ſpeed me in my time to come,

Albeit I will confefſe, thy fathers wealth

Was the firſt motive that I woo'd theſe (Anne :)

Yet wooing theſe, I found theſe of more valew

Then ſtampes in Gold, or ſummes in ſealed bagges:

And 'tis the very riches of thy ſelſe,

That now Iaymeat.

An. Gentle M. Fenton,

Yet feeke my fathers love, ſtill feeke it ſir,

If opportunity and humbleſt ſuite

Cannot attraine it, why then harke you hither.

Shal. Breake their talke Mift is Quicſky,

My Kinfman ſhall ſpeake for himſelſe.

Slen. Ile make a ſhaft or a bolt on'c, ſlid, tis but ventu-

Shal. Be not diſmaid.

(ring.

Slen. No, ſhe ſhall not diſmay me :

I care not for that, but that I am affeard.

Qui. Halk ye, M. Slender would ſpeak a word with you

An. I come to him. This is my fathers choyce :

O what a world of vilde ill-favour'd faſſs.

Lookes handſome in three hundred pounds a yeere?

Qui. And how do's good Maſter Fenton?

Pray you a word with you.

Shal. Shee's comming : to her Coz.

O boy, then hadſt a father.

Slen. I had a father (M. An.) my uncle can tel you good jeſts of him:pray you Vncle, teil Mift. Anne the jeſt how my father ſtole two Geefe out of a Pen, good Vnkleck.

Shal. Miftris Anne, my Cozen loves you.

Slen. I that I doe, as well as I love any woman in Glo- ceſſershire.

Shal. He will maintaine you like a Gentlewoman.

Slen. I that I will, come cut and long-taile, under the degree of a Squire.

Shal. He will make you a hundred and fifty pounds jo ynture.

Anne. Good Maſter Shallow let him wooe for himſelſe.

Shal. Marry I thanke you for it: I thanke you for that good comfort: ſhe cals you (Coz) Ile leave you.

Anne. Now Maſter Slender.

Slen. Now good Miftris Anne.

Anne. What is your will?

Slen. My will ? Odd's-hart-lings, that's a pretty jeſt indeed: I ne're made my Will yet (I thanke Hea- vent) I am not ſuch a fickely creature, I give Heaven praiſe.

e. Anne.

E 2

The merry Wives of Windsor.

neft cloathes you fend forth to bleaching.

*Page.* Why, this paffes M. *Ford*: you are not to goe
loofe any longer, you muft be pinnion'd.

*Evans.* Why, this is Lunatickes: this is mad as a mad dog.

*Shal.* Indeed M. *Ford*, this is not well indeed.

*Ford.* So fay I too fir, come hither Miftris *Ford*, Miftris *Ford*, the honeſt woman, the modeſt wife, the vertuouſ creature, that hath the jealous foole to her husband: I ſuſpect without cauſe (Miftris) doe I?

*Miftris.* Heaven be my witneſſe you doe, if you ſuſpect me in any diſhonesty.

*Ford.* Well faid brazen-face, hold it out: Come forth firrah.

*Page.* This paffes.

*Miftris.* Are you not aſham'd, let the cloathes alone.

*Ford.* I ſhall find you anon.

*Evans.* 'Tis unreasonable; will you take up your wires
cloathes? Come, away.

*Ford.* Empty the basket I lay.

*Miftris.* Why man, why?

*Ford.* Maſter Page, as I am a man, there was one con-
vay'd out of my houſe yefterday in this basket: why may
not he be there againe? in my houſe I am ſure he is : my
intelligence is true, my jealousie is reaſonable, plucke mee
out all the linnen.

*Miftris.* Ford. If you finde a man there, he ſhall dye a
Fleas death.

*Page.* Here's no man.

*Shal.* By my fidelity this is not well M. *Ford*: This
wrongs you.

*Evans.* M. *Ford*, you muſt pray, and not follow the im-
ginations of your owne heart: this is jealousies.

*Ford.* Well, hee's not here I feeke for.

*Page.* No, nor no where else but in your braine.

*Ford.* Helfe to ſearch my houſe this one time: if I find
not what I feeke, I ſhew no colour for my extremity: Let
me for ever be your Table-ſport: Let them ſay of me as
jealous as *Ford*, that ſearch'd a hollow Wall-nut for his
Wives Lemman. Satisſe me once more, once more ſearch
with me.

*Miftris.* What hoa (Miftris Page) come you and the old Woman downe: my husband will come into the Chamber.

*Ford.* Old woman? what old woman's that?

*Miftris.* Why it is my Maids Aunt of *Brainford*.

*Ford.* A Witch, a Queane, an old cozening Queane:
Have I not forbid her my houſe? She comes of errands
do's he? We are ſimple men, we do not know what's
brought to paffe under the preſſion of Fortune-telling.
She workes by Charmes, by Spels, by th'Figure, and fuch
dawbry as this is, beyond our Element: wee know no-
thing. Come downe you Witch, you Hagge you, come
downe I lay.

*Miftris.* Ford. Nay, good fweet husband, good Gentlemen, let him not ſtrike the old Woman.

*Ford.* Come Mother Prat, Come give me your
hand.

*Ford.* Ile Prather: Out of my doore you Witch, you
Rag, you Baggage, you Poultcat, you Runnion, out, out: I
conjure you, Ile Fortune-tell you.

*Miftris.* Are you not aſham'd?

I thinke you have kill'd the poore woman.

*Miftris.* Nay he will do it, 'tis a goodly credite
for you.

*Ford.* Hang her Witch.

*Evans.* By yea, and no, I thinke the o'man is a Witch
indeed: I like not when a o'man has a great peard; I ſpie a
great peard under his Muffler.

*Ford.* Will you follow Gentlemen, I beſeech you fol-
low: fee but the ilſue of my jealousie: If I cry out thus
upon no traile, never truſt me when I open againe.

*Page.* Let's obey his humour a little further:
Come Gentlemen.

*Exeunt.*

*Miftris.* Truſt me he beate him moſt pitifully.

*Miftris.* Nay, by th'Art ſaſſe that hee did not: hee beate
him moſt unpittifull, me thought.

*Miftris.* Ile have the cudgell hallow'd, and hung
ore the Altar, it hath done meritorious ſervice.

*Miftris.* What thinke you ? May we with the war-
rant of woman-hood, and the witneſſe of a good confi-
ence, purſue him with any further revenge ?

*Miftris.* The ſpirit of wantonneſſe is ſure ſear'd out of him, if the Divell have him not in fee, ſimple, with fine and recovery, he will never, I thinke, in the way of waeſte, attempt us againe.

*Miftris.* Ford. Shall we tell our husbands how wee have
ſerved him ?

*Miftris.* Yes, by all meanes: if it be but to ſcrape the
figures out of your husbands braines: if they can ſinde in
their hearts, the poore unveruſous fat Knight ſhall be any
further aſſiſtied, we two will ſill be the minifTERS.

*Miftris.* Ford. Ile warrant they'll have him publikely
ſham'd, and me thinkes there would be no period to the
jeſt, ſhould he not be publikely ſham'd.

*Miftris.* Come, to the Forge with it, then ſhape it: I
would not have things coole.

*Exeunt.*

## Scena Tertia.

Enter Hoft and Bardolſe.

*Bar.* Sir, the *Germane* deſires to have three of your horſes: the Duke himſelfe will be to morrow at Court, and they are going to meet him.

*Hoft.* What Duke ſhould that be comes ſo ſecrety?
I heare not of him in the Court: let me ſpeake with the
Gentlemen, they ſpeake *English*?

*Bar.* I Sir? Ile call him to you.

*Hoft.* They ſhall have my horſes, but Ile make them
pay: Ile ſawce them, they have had my houſes a weeke
at command: I have turn'd away my other guett's, they
muſt come off, Ile ſawce them, come.

*Exeunt.*

## Scena Quarta.

Enter Page, Ford, Miftris Page, Miftris Ford, Ford, and Evans.

*Evans.* 'Tis one of the beſt diſcrections of a o'man as
ever I did looke upon.

*Page.* And did he ſend you both theſe Letters at an in-
ſtant?

*Miftris.* Within a quarter of an houre.

*Ford.* Pardon me (wife) henceforth do what thou wilt:
I rather will ſuſpect the Sunne with gold,
Then thee with wantonneſſe: Now doth thy honor ſtand

(In

The merry Wives of Windsor.

(In him that was of late an Hereticke)
As firme of faith:

*Page.* 'Tis well,'tis well, no more :
Be not extreame in submission as in offence,
But let our plot goe forward : Let our wives
Yet once againe (to make us publike fport)
Appoint a meeting with this old fat fellow,
Where we may take him, and difgrace him for it.
*Ford.* There is no better way then that they fpoke of.
*Page.* How to fend him word they'l meet him in the
Parke at midnight? Fie,fie,he'l never come.

*Evan.* You say he hath been throwne into the River; and
has been grievoufly peaten, as an old 'oman : me thinkes
there should be terours in him, that he should not come :
Methinkes his fleth is punifch'd, hee shall have no de-
fires.

*Page.* So this ke I too.
*M. Ford.* Devife but how you'l ufe him when he comes.
And let us two devifeto bring him thither.

*M. Page.* There is an old tale goes, that Herne the Hunter (lometime a Keeper here in Windsor Forrest)
Doth all the Winter time at full of midnight
Walke round about an Oake, with great ragg'd hornes,
And there he blasts the tree, and takes the cattle,
And makes milch-kine yeeld blood, and flakes a chaine
In a moft hideous and dreadfull manner.
You have heard of such a spirit, and well you know
The fuperflitious idle-headed- *Eld*
Receiv'd, and did deliver to our age
This tale of Herne the Hunter for a truth:

*Page.* Why yet there want not many that doe feare
In deepe of night to walke by this Herne's Oake :
But what of this?

*Mf. Ford.* Marry this is our devife,
That Falſaffe at that Oake shall meet with us.

*Page.* Well, let it not be doubted but he'l come,
And in this shape when you have brought him thither,
What shall be done with him ? What is your plot ?

*M. Page.* That likewife have we thought upon, and
*Nan Page* (my daughter) and my little fonne,
thus :
And three or foure more of their growth; wee'd l're drefle
Like Vrchins, Ouphes, and Fairies, greene and white,
With rounds of waxen Tapers on their heads,
And Rattles in their hands; upon a fodaine,
As Falſaffe, ſhe, and I, are newly met,
Let them from forth a Saw-pit rufh at once
With fome diffuſed fong: Vpon their fight
We two, in great amazedneſſe will flye :
Then let them all encircle him about,
And Fairy-like to pinch the uncleane Knight;
And aske him why that houre of Fairy Revell,
In their ſo sacred pathes, he dare's to tread
In shape prophane.

*Ford.* And till he tell the truth,
Let the furpoſed Fairies pinch him found,
And burne him with their Tapers.

*M. Pa.* The truth being knowne,
We'll all prefent our ſelves; dif-horne the ſpirit,
And mocke him home to Windsor.

*Ford.* The children muſt

Be pratiſ'd well to this, or they'l nev'r doo't.

*Evan.* I will teach the children their behaviours; and I
will be like a Iacke-an-Apes alſo, to burne the Knight with
my Taber.

*Ford.* That will be excellent,
Hee goe buy them vizards.

*Mif*. Page. My Nan shall be the Queene of all the
Fairies, finely attired in a robe of white.

*Page.* That ſilke will I goe buy, and in that time
Shall M. Slender ſteale my Nan away,
And marry her at Eaton : goe, ſend to Falſaffe, ſtraight.

*Ford.* Nay, Ile to him againe in name of Broome,
Hee'tell me all his purpofe: ſure hee'll come.

*M. Pa.* Feare not you that: Goe get us properties
And tricking for your Fairies.

*Evans.* Let us about it,
It is admirable pleafures, and ferry honeſt knaveries.

*Mif. Page.* Goe Mif. Ford,
Send quickly to Sir John, to know his minde :

Ile to the Doctor, he hath my good will,
And none but he to marry with Nan Page:

*That Slender* (though well landed) *is an Ideot :*
*And he, my husband beſt of all affects :*

The Doctor is well monyed, and his friends

Potent at Court : he, none but he shall have her,
Though twaytayt thouand worthier come to crave her.

Exii.

## Scena quinta.

Enter Hoft, Simple, Falſaffe, Bardolfe, Evans,
Cains, Quickly.

*Hoff.* What would' thou have? (Boore) what? ( thick skin) ſpeake, breathe, diſcuffe: briefe, ſhort, quicke, ſnap.

*Sim.* Marry fir, I come to ſpeake with Sir John Falſaffe from M. Slender.

*Hoff.* There's his Chamber, his Housc, his Caffle,
his standing bed and truckle bed: 'tis painted about
with the ſtory of the Prodigall, freſh and new: go, knock
and call: hee ſpeake like an Anthropophagian unto
thee: Knocke I ſay.

*Sim.* There's an old woman, a fat woman gone up into
his chamber: Ile be so bold as ſlay Sir till the come
downe: I come to ſpeake with her indeed.

*Hoff.* Ha? A fat woman? The Knight may be robb'd:
Ile call, Bully-Knight, Bully-Sir John : ſpeake from thy
Lungs Military : Art thou there? It is thine Hoft, thine
Ephesian cals.

*Fal.* How now, mine Hoft?

*Hoff.* Here's a Bohemian Tartar taries the comming
downe of thy fat woman: Let her defend (Bully) let
her defend: my Chambers are honourable: Fie, priva-
cy? Fie.

*Fal.* There was (mine Hoft) an old fat woman even
now with me, but ſhe's gone.

*Sim.* Pray you fir, was't not the wife woman of Brainford?

*Fal.* I marry was it (Munſel-ſhel) what would you
with her?

*Sim.* My Maſter (Sir) my Maſter Slender, ſent to her
ſeeing her goe through the ſtreetes, to know (Sir) wher-
ther one Nim (Sir) that beguile him of a chaine, had the
chaine, or no.

*Fal.* I ſpake with the old woman about it.

*Sim.* And what fayes ſhe, I pray Sir?

*Fal.* Marry, ſhe fayes, that the very fame man that be-
guil'd Maſter Slender of his Chaine, cozen'd him of it.

*Simp.* I would I could have ſpoken with the woman
her

The merry Wives of Windsor.

her selfe, I had other things to have spoken with her too,
from him.

Fal. What are they ? let us know.

Hoff. I, come: quicke.

Fal. I may not conceale them (fir.)

Hoff. Conceale them, or thou di'ft.

Sim. Why fir, they were nothing but about Miftris
Anne Page, to know if it were my Mafters fortune to
have her or no.

Fal. 'Tis, 'tis his fortune.

Sim. What Sir.

Fal. To have her, or no: goe; fay the woman told
me fo.

Sim. May I be bold to fay fo fir?

Fal. I fir: like who more bold.

Sim. I thanke your worfhip: I fhall make my mafter
glad with theſe tidings.

Hoff. Thou art clearkly: thou art clearkly (fir John)
was there a wife woman with thee?

Fal. I, that there was (mine Hoff) one that hath taught
me more wit, then ever I learn'd before in my life: and
I paid nothing for it neither, but was paid for my lea-
ning.

*Enter Bardolph.*

Bar. Out alas(fir) cozonage: meere cozonage.

Hoff. Where be my horſes? ſpeake well of them var-
letto.

Bar. Run away with the cozoner: for fo foone as I
came beyond Eaton, they threw me off from behinde
one of them in a flow of myre; and fet ſpurres, and
away; like three Germane-Divels; three Doctor Fau-
ſtuffes.

Hoff. They are gone but to meet the Duke (villaine)
doe not ſay they be filed: *Germans* are honeſt men.

*Enter Evans.*

Ev. Where is mine Hoff?

Hoff. What is the matter fir ?

Evans. Have a care of your entertainments: there is a
friend of mine come to towne, tels me there is three Co-
zen-Iermans, that has cozond all the Hoffs of Readins, of
Maidenhead; of Cole brooke, of horſes and money: I
tell you for good will (looke you) you are wife, and full
of gibes, and vlouting-flockes: and 'tis not convenient
you should be cozoned. Fare you well. Exit. Enter Caius.

Cai. Ver'is mine Hoff de Iar teere ?

Hoff. Here (Mafter Doctor) in perplexity and doubt-
full delemma.

Cai. I cannot tell vat is dat: but it is tell-a-me, dat you
make grand preparation for a Duke de Iamamy: by my
trot: der is no Duke dat the Court is know, to come: I
tell you for good will: adieu.

*Exit.*

Hoff. Huy and cry (villaine) goe: affift me Knight, I
am undone: flye, run: hu and cry (villaine) I am undone.

*Exit.*

Fal. I would all the world might be cozen'd, for I
have beene cozened and beaten too: if it ſhould come to
the care of the Court, how I have beene transform'd; and
how my transformation hath beene wafh'd and cudgel'd,
they would melt me out of my fat, drop by drop, and li-
quor Fifhermens boots with me: I warrant they would
whip me with their fine wits, till I were as creft-falne as
a dri'd Peare: I never proper'd, since I forſtore my ſelfe
at Primero: well, if my wind were but long enough; I
would repent: Now ? Whence come you?

*Enter Quickly.*

Qu. From the two parties forſooth.

Fal. The Divell take one party, and his Dam the

other: and fo they fhall be both beſtow'd; I have ſu-
fer'd more for their fakes; more than the villancous in-
conſtancy of mans diſpoſition is able to beare,

Qu. And have not they ſuffer'd ? Yes, I warrant, ſpe-
cially one of them; Miltris Ford (good heart) is beaten
blacke and blue, that you cannot fee a white ſpot about
her.

Fal. What tell'ft thou mee of blacke and blue ? I was
beaten my ſelfe into all the colours of the Rainebow: and
I was like to be apprehended for the Witch of Brain-
ford, but that my admirable dexterity of wit, my counter-
feiting the action of an old Woman deliver'd mee, the
Knave Conſtable had fet me ith' Stockes, ith' common
Stockes for a Witch.

Qu, Sir, let me ſpeake with you in your Chamber,
you fhall heare how things goe, and (I warrant) to your
content: here is a letter will ſay forwhat: (good hearts)
what a-doe here is to bring you together? Sure one of
you do's not ſerve heaven well, that you are ſo croſs'd.

Fal. Come up into my Chamber.

Exeunt.

## Scena Sexta.

*Enter Fenton, Hoff.*

Hoff. Mafter Fenton, talke not to mee, my minde is hea-
vy: I will give over all.

Fen. Yet heare me ſpeake: affiſt me in my purpofe,
And(as I am a Gentleman) Ile give thee
A hundred pound in gold, more then your loſſe.

Hoff. I will heare you (Mafter Fenton) and I will (at
the leaſt) keepe your counſell.

Fen. From time to time, I have acquainted you
With the decare love I beare to faire Anne Page,
Who, mutually, hath anſwer'd my affection,
(So farre forth, as her ſelfe might be her chufer)
Even to my will; I have a letter from her
Of ſuch contents, as you will wonder at;
The mirth whereof, folarded with my matter,
That neither fingly can be maniſeſted
Without the ſhew of both: fat Sir John Falstaffe
Hath a great Scene; the image of the jefl
Ile ſhew you here at large (harke good mine Hoff:)
Te night at Hernes Oke, juſt 'twixt twelve and one,
Muſt my ſweet Nan prefent the Faiery Queene:
The purpofe why, is here: in which diſguſe
While other jeſts are ſomething ranke on foot,
Her father hath commanded her to ſlip

Away with Slender, and with him at Eaton
Immediately to marry: She hath conſented: Now Sir,
Her mother, (even ſtrong, againſt that match
And firme for Doctor Caius) hath appointed
That he ſhall likewife ſhuffule her away,
While other ſports are tasking of their mindeſs,
And at the Deanry, where a Prieft attends
Strait marry her: to this her Mother plot
She (feemingly obeyed) likewife hath
Made promife to the Doctor: Now, thus it reſt,
Her father meanes ſhe ſhall be all in white;
And in that habite, when Slender fees his time
To take her by the hand, and bid her goe,
She ſhall goe with him: her Mother hath intended
(The better to devote her to the Doctor;
For they muſt all be masked and vizarded)

That

80

The merry Wives of Windsor.

That quaint in greene, the shall be loose enroab'd,
With Ribands-pendant, fiaring 'bout her head;
And when the Doctor spies his vantage ripe,
To pinch her by the hand, and on that token,
The maid hath given consent to goe with him.

Holt. Which means he to deceive ? Father, or Mo-
ther?

Fau. Both (my good Holf) to goe along with me,
And here it refts, that you'l procure the Vicar
To fly for me at Church, twixt twelve and one,
And in the lawfull name of marrying,
To give our hearts united ceremony.

Hof. Well, husband your device ; Ile to the Vicar,
Bring you the Maid, you shall not lacke a Prief.

Fen. So shall I evermore be bound to thee ;
Besides, Ile make a prefent recompence.

Exeunt.

## Albus Quintus, Scena Prima.

Enter Falstaffe, Quickly, and Ford.

Fal. Prethee no more pratling : go, Ile hold, this is the third time: I hope good luck lies in odde numbers, A-way, goe, they fay there is Divinity in odde numbers, ei-ther in Nativity, chance, or death : away.

Qui. Ile provide you a chaine, and Ile doe what I can to get you a paire of hornes.

Fal. Away I lay, time weares, hold up your head and mince. How now M. Broome ? Mafter Broome, the mater will be knowne to night, or never. Be you in the Parke about midnight, at Hernes-Oake, and you shall fee wenders.

Ford. Went you not to her yefterday (Sir) as you told me you had appointed ?

Fal. I went to her ( Mafter Broome ) as you fee, like a
poore-old-man, but I came from her ( Mafter Broome )
like a poore-old-woman ; that fame Knave ( Ford her hu-
band) hath the fineft mad Divell of jealousy in him ( Ma-
fter Broome ) that ever govern'd Frenzie. I will tell you,
he beat me grievoufly, in the shape of a woman : ( for in
the shape of man ( Mafter Broome ) I feare not Goliah
with a Weavers beame, (becaufe I know alfo, life is a
Shuttle) I am in hafte, goe along with mee, He tell you all
(Mafter Broome : ) fince I pluckt Geefe, plaid Trewant
and whipt Top, I knew not what 'twas to be beaten, till
lately. Follow me, Ile tell you ftrange things of this
Knave Ford, on whom tonight I will be revenged, and I
will deliver his wife into your hand. Follow, ftrange
things in hand ( M. Broome ) follow.

Exeunt.

## Scena Secunda.

Enter Page, Shallow, Slender.

Page. Come, come: wee'll couch i'th Castle-ditch,
till we fee the light of our Fairies. Remember ſonne Slen-
der, my daughter.

Slen. I forfooth, I have spoke with her, and wee have a nay-word how to know one another. I come to her in white, and cry Mum ; the cryes Budget, and by that

we know one another.

Shal. That's good too: but what needses either your
Mum, or her Budget ? The white will decipher her well
enough. It hath Strooke ten a'clocke.

Page. The night is darke, Light and Spirits will be
come it well: Heaven proper our fport. No man means
evill but the Divell, and we shall know him by his hornes.
Lets away: follow me.

Exeunt.

## Scena Tertia.

Enter Mist. Page, Mist. Ford, Caim.

Mist. Page. Mr. Doctor, my daughter is in greene, when
you fee your time, take her by the hand, away with her
to the Deanry, and difpatch it quickly : goe before into
the Parke: we two muft goe together.

Cai. I know vat I have to do, adieu.
Mist. Page. Fare you well (dir:) my husband will not re-
joyce fo much at the abufe of Falstaffe, as he will chafe at
the Doctors marrying my daughter : But 'tis no matter;
better a little chiding, then a great deale of heart-breake.
Mist. Ford. Where is Nas now ? and her troope of
Fairies ? and the Welsh Divell Herne ?

Mist. Page. They are all couch'd in a pit hard by Hernest
Oake, with obfcur'd Lights; which at the very infant
of Falstaffe's and our meeting, they will at once difplay
to the night.

Mist. Ford. That cannot choose but amaze him.

Mist. Page. If he be not amaz'd he will be mock'd: If
he be amaz'd, he will be mock'd.

Mist. Ford. Wee'l betray him finely.

Mi. Pa. Againft fuch Lewdifters, and their Lechery,
Thofe that berray them doe no treachery.

Mist. Ford. The houre drawes on : to the Oake, to the
Oake.

Exeunt.

## Scena Quarta.

Enter Evans and Fairies.

Evans. Trib, trib, Fairies: Come, and remember your
parts: be pold (I pray you) follow me into the pit, and
when I give the watch-ords, a doe as I bid you: Come,
come, trib, trib.

Exeunt.

## Scena quinta.

Enter Falstaffe, Mistresse Page, Mistres Ford, Evans,
Anne Page, Fairies, Page, Ford, Quickly,
Slender, Fenton, Caim, Pistoll.

Fal. The Windsor Bell hath flroke twelve: the Mi-
nute drawes on: Now the hot-bloodied-gods affift me:
Remember Love, thou waft a Bull for thy Europa, Love
fet on thy hornes. O powerful Love, that in fome re-
ſpects makes a Beaſt a Man: in fome other, a Man, a Beaſt.
You were alfo (Iupiter) a Swan, for the love of Leda: O
omnipo-

The meery Wives of Windsor.

60

Ford. I will never misfruſt my wife againe, till thou art able to wooe her in good English.

Fal. Have I laid my braine in the Sunne and dri'd it, that it wants matter to prevent ſo groſle ore-reaching as this? Am I ridden with a Welch Goattoo? Shall I have a Coxecombe of Frize? 'Tis time I were choak'd with a peec of toafled Cheefe.

Evans. Seeſe is not good to give putter; your pelley is all putter.

Fal. Seeſe and Putter? Have I liv'd to ſtand at the taunt of one that makes Fritters of English? This is enough to be the decay of Laſt and late-walking through the Realme.

Miftr. Page. Why Sir John, doe you thinke, though we would have thurſt vertue out of our hearts by the head and shoulders, and have given our ſelves without ſeruple to Hell, that ever the Divell could have made you our delight?

Ford. What, a Hodge-pudding? A bag of Flax?

Miftr. Page. A puſt man?

Page. Old, cold, wither'd, and of intollerable entrails?

Ford. And one that is as ſlanderous as Sathan?

Page. And as poore as Iob.

Ford. And as wicked as his wife?

Evan. And given to Fornications, and to Taverne's, and Sacke, and Wine, and Metheglins, and to drinkings, and ſwearings, and ſtaring? Pribbles and prabbles?

Fal. Well, I am your Theame: you have the ſtart of me, I am dejected: I am not able to anſwer the Welch Flannell, Ignorance it ſelfe is a Plummet ore me, uſe me as you will.

Ford. Marry fir, wee'l bring you to Windsor to one Mr. Broome, that you have cozon'd of money, to whom you should have beene a Pander: over and above that you have ſuffer'd, I thinke, to repay that money will be a biſting affiſlion.

Page. Yet be cheerefull Knight, thou ſhalt eat a Poffet to night at my houſe, where I will deſire thee to laugh at my wife, that now laughes at thee: Tell her Mr. Slender hath married her daughter.

Miftr. Page. Doſtors doubt that; If Anne Page be my daughter, ſhe is (by this) Doctor Caius wife.

Enter Slender.

Slen. Whoa hoe, hoe, Father Page.

Page. Sonne? How now? How now ſonne, Have you diſpatch'd?

Slen. Diſpatch'd? Ile make the beſt in Gloſterſhire know on't: would I were hang'd laſſe.

Page. Of what, ſonne?

Slen. I came yonder at Eaton to marry Miftris Anne Page, and ſhee's a great lubberly Boy. If it had not beene it Church, I would have ſwing'd him, or he ſhould have ſwing'd mee. If I did not thinke it had beene Anne Page, would I might never ſtirre, and 'tis a Poſt-maſters Boy.

Page. Upon my life then, you tooke the wrong.

Slen. What need you to me that? I thinke ſo, when I tooke a Boy for a Girle: If I had beene married to him, (for all he was in womanes apparel) I would not have had him.

Page. Why, this is your owne folly, Did not I tell you how you ſhould know my daughter By her garments?

Slen. I went to her in greene, and cryed Mum, and the ſhy'd Budget, as Anne and I had appointed, and yet it was not Anne, but a Poſt-maſters Boy.

Miftr. Page. Good George be not angry, I knew of your purpofe: turn'd my daughter into white, and indeed ſhee is now with the Doctor at the Deanry, and there married.

Enter Caius.

Cai. Ver is Miftris Page: by gar I am cozoned, I ha married one Garfoon, a Boe; oon Pefant, by gar. A Boy, it is not An Page, by gar, I am cozoned.

Mr. Pa. Why? did you take her in white?

Cai. I be gar, and 'tisa Boy: be gar, Ile raſe all Wind for.

Ford. This is ſtrange: Who hath got the right Anne?

Page. My heart miſgives me, here comes Mr. Fenton.

How now Mr. Fenton?

Am. Pardon good father, good my mother pardon, Page. Now Miftris:

How chance you went not with Mr. Slender?

Mr. Pa. Why went you not with Mr. Doctor Maid?

Fen. You doe amaze her: heare the truth of it, You would have married her moſt ſhamefully,

Where there was no proportion held in love:

The truth is, ſhe and I (long ſince contrafed)

Are now ſo fire that nothing can diſolve us:

Th'offence is holy that ſhe hath committed,

And this deceit loſes the name of craft,

Of diſobedience, or undutuous title,

Since therein the doth evitate and ſun

A thousand irreligious curſed hours

Which forced marriage would have brought upon her.

Ford. Stand not amaz'd, here is no remedy: In Love, the heavens themſelves guide the ſlate, Money buyes Lands, and wives are fold by fate.

Fal. I am glad, though you have tane a ſpeciall ſtand to ſtrike at me, that your Arrow hath glanc'd.

Page. Well, what remedy? Fenton, heaven give thee joy, what cannot be eſchew'd, muſt be embrac'd.

Fal. When night-dogs runne, all forts of Deereare chac'd.

Mr. Pa. Well, I will muſe no further: Mr. Fenton, Heaven give you many, many merry dayes: Good husband, let us every one goe home, And laugh this ſport ore by a countrey fire, Sir John and all.

Ford. Let it be ſo (Sir John): To Maſter Broome, you yet ſhall hold your word, For he, to night, ſhalll ye with Miftris Ford.

Exeunt.

FJNJS.

MEASVRE
For Meaſure.

Actus Primus, Scena Prima.

Enter Duke, Esclales, Lords.

Duke.
Esclales.

Eſc. My Lord.

Duk. Of government, the properties to unfold,
Would feeme in me t'aſfect ſpeech and diſcourſe.

Since I am put to know, that your owne Science

Exceedes (in that) the lifts of all advice

My ſtrength can give you : Then no more remains

But that, to your ſufficiency, as your worth is able,

And let them worke : The nature of our people,
Our Cities institutions, and the Terms

For Common Iuſtice, y'are as pregnant in

As Art, and practice hath enriched any

That we remember : There is our Commiſſion,

From which, we would not have you warpe ; call hither,
I ſay, bid come before us Angelo :

What figure of us thinke you, he will beare.

For you muſt know, we have with ſpeciall foule

Elected him our abſence to ſupply ;

Lent him our terror, dreſt him with our love,

And given his Deputation all the Organs

Of our owne power : what thinke you of it ?

Eſc. If any in Vienna be of worth

To undergoe ſuch ample grace and honour,

It is Lord Angelo.

Enter Angelo.

Duke. Looke where he comes.

Ang. Alwayse obedient to your graces will,
I come to know your Graces pleafure.

Duke. Angelo :

There is a kinde of Character in thy life,

That to th' obſerver, doth thy hiftory

Fully unfold : Thy ſelfe and thy belongings

Are not thine owne ſo proper, as to waſe

Thy ſelfe upon thy vertues ; they on thee :

Heaven doth with us, as we with Torches doe,

Not light them for themſelves : For if our vertues

Did not goe forth of us, were all alike

As if we had them not : Spirits are not finely touch'd,

But to fine iſſues : nor Nature never lends

The ſmallest ſeruple of her excellence,

But like a thrifty goddeſſe, the determines

Her ſelfe the glory of a creditour,

Both thank me and uſe ; but I doe bend my ſpeech

To one that can my part in him advertiſe ;

Hold therefore Angelo :

In our remove, be thou at full, our ſelfe :

Mortality and Mercy in Vienna

Live in thy tongue and heart : Old Esclales

Though first in queſtion, is thy ſecondary.

Take thy Commiſſion.

Ang. Now good my Lord

Let there be ſome more teſt, made of my mettle,

Before ſo noble and ſo great a figure

Be ſtampt upon it.

Duke. No more eſvation :

We have with a leaven'd, and prepared choyce

Proceeded to you; therefore take your honours ;

Our haſte from hence is of ſo quicke condition,

That it prefers it ſelfe, and leaves unqueſtion'd

Matters of needfull value : We ſhall write to you

As time, and our concernings ſhall importune,

How it goes with us, and doe looke to know

What doth befall you here. So fare you well :

To th' hopefull execution doe I leave you,

Of your Commiſſion.

Ang. Yet give leave (my Lord,)

That we may bring you ſomething on the way.

Duke. My haſte may not admit it,

Nor need you (on mine honour) have to doe

With any ſeruple : your ſcope is as mine owne,

So to inforce, or qualifie the Lawes,

As to your ſoule ſeesmes good : Give me your hand,

Ile privily away : I love the people,

But doe not like to ſtage me to their eyes :

Though it doe well, I do not reſilient well

Their loud applaue, and Aves vehement :

Nor doe I thinke the man of ſafe diſcretion

That do's affect it. Once more fare you well.

Ang. The heavens give ſafety to your purpofes.

Eſc. Lead forth and bring you backe in happineſſe.

Duke. I thanke you, fare you well.

Exeunt.

Eſc. I ſhall define you, Sir, to give me leave

To have free ſpeech with you ; and it concernes me

To looke into the bottome of my place :

A power I have, but of what ſtrength and nature,

I am not yet inſtructed.

Ang. 'Tis ſo with me : Let us with-draw together,

And we may ſoone our ſatisfaction have

Touching that point.

Eſc. Ile wait upon you honour.

Exeunt.

Scena

F

62

Measure for Measure.

## Scena secunda.

Enter Lucio, and two other Gentlemen.

Luc. If the Duke, with the other Dukes, come not to
compition with the King of Hungary, why then all the
Dukes fall upon the King.

1 Gent. Heaven grant us its peace, but not the King of
Hungaries.

2 Gent. Amen.

Luc. Thou conclud'st like the Sanctimonious Pyrat,
that went to Sea with the tenne Commandements, but
frep'd one out of the Table.

2 Gent. Thou shall not fteale?

Luc. I, that he raz'd.

1 Gent. Why? 'twas a Commandement to command
the Captaine and all the reft from their functions : they
put forth to fteale : There's not a fouldier of us all, that
in the thankef giving before meate, doe rallish the petition
well that prayes for peace.

2 Gent. I never heard any fouldier diflike it.

Luc. I believe thee : for I thinke thou never was't
where Grace was faid.

2 Gent. No? a dozen times at leaft.

1 Gent. What? in mecter?

Luc. In any proportion, or in any language.

1 Gent. I thinke, or in any Religion.

Luc. I, why not? Grace, is Grace, defpight of all con-
trovſe : as for example ; Thou thy ſelſe art a wicked
villaine, defpight of all Grace

1 Gent. Well: there went but a paire of ſheeres be-
tweene us.

Luc. I grant : as there may betweene the Lifts and
the Velvet. Thou art the Lift.

1 Gent. And thou the Velvet; thou art good Velvet;
thou'rt a three pil'd-peece I warrant thee: I had as liefe
be a Lyft of an English Kerfey, as be pil'd, as thou art pil'd,
for a French Velvet. Doe I ſpecke feelingly now ?

Luc. I thinke thou doſt : and indeed with moſt paine-
full feeling of thy ſpeech : I will, out of thine owne con-
ſeſſion, leane to begin thy health; but whilſt I live, for-
get to drinke after thee.

1 Gent. I thinke I have done my ſelſe wrong, have I not?

2 Gent. Yes, that thou haſt; whether thou art tainted,
or free. Enter Bawde.

Luc. Behold, behold, where Madam Mitigation comes.
I have purchas'd as many diſeafes under her Roofe,
As come to—

2 Gent. To what I pray ?

Luc. Iudge.

2 Gent. To three thouſand Dollars a yeere.

1 Gent. I, and more.

Luc. A French crowne more.

1 Gent. Thou art alwayse figuring diſeafes in me; but
thou art full of errour, I am found.

Luc. Nay, not (as one would fay) healthy : but ſo
found, as things that are hollow; thy bones are hollow;
Impiety has made a feaſt of thee.

1 Gent. How now, which of your hips has the moſt
profound Sciatica?

Bawd. Well, well : there's one yonder arreſted, and
carred to prifon, was worth five thouſand of you all.

2 Gent. Who's that I prethee?

Bawd. Marry fir, that's Claudio, Signior Claudio.

1 Gent. Claudio to prifon ? 'tis not ſo.

Bawd. Nay, but I know 'tis ſo : I faw him arreſted:
faw him carried away : and which is more, within the
three dayes his head to be chopt off.

Luc. But, after all this fooling, I would not have it ſo:
Ar thou ſure of this?

Bawd. I am too ſure of it : and it is for getting Ma-
dam Julietta with child.

Luc. Beleeve me this may be: hee promis'd to meete
me two howres ſince, and he was ever precife in promife-
keeping.

2 Gent. Besides you know, it drawes ſomething neere
to the ſpeech we had to ſuch a purpofe.

1 Gent. But moſt of all agreeing with the Proclamation.

Luc. Away, let's goe leane the truth of it.

Bawd. Thus, what with the war; what with the fight,
what with the gallowes, and what with poverty, I am
cuite ſhrunke. How now? what's the newes with
you?

Enter Clowne.

Claw. Yonder man is carried to prifon.

Baw. Well: what has he done ?

Claw. A woman.

Baw. But what's his offence ?

Claw. Groping for Trowts, in a peculiar River.

Baw. What? is there a Maid with child by him?

Claw. No: but there's a woman with Maid by him:
you have not heard of the Proclamation, have you?

Baw. What Proclamation, man?

Claw. All houſes in the Suburbes of Vienna muſt bee
pluſt'd downe.

Baw. And what shall become of thofe in the Citie?

Claw. They ſhall ſtand for feed: they had gone downe
too, but that a wife Burger put in for them.

Baw. But ſhall all our houſes of refort in the Suburbes
be pull'd downe?

Claw. To the ground Miftris.

Baw. Why here's a change indeed in the Common-
wealth: what ſhall become of me?

Claw. Come : feare not you: good Counſellours lacke
no Clients : though you change your place, you need not
change your Trade: He be your Tapfter fill; courage, there
will be pity taken on you; you that have worne your eies
almoſt out in the ſervice, you will be confidered.

Bawd. What's to doe here, Thomas Tapfter ? let's with-
draw.

Claw. Here comes Signior Claudio, led by the Provoſt
prifon: and there's Madam Iuliet.

Exeunt.

## Scena tertia.

Enter Provoſſ, Claudio, Iuliet, Officers, Lucio, and two Gent.

Cla. Fellow, why doſt thou ſhow me thus to th' world?
Bear me to prifon, where I am committed.

Pro. I do it not in evill diſpoſition,
But from Angelo by speciall charge.

Cla. Thus can the demy-god (Authority)
Make us pay downe, for our offence, by waight
The words of heaven; on whom it will, it will,
On whom it will not (fo) yet fill tis juſt.
(Intraint.)

Lnc. Why how now (Claudio)? whence comes this re-
Cla. From too-much liberty, (my Lucio) liberty,
As ſurſet is the father of much ſaſt,
So every ſcope by the immoderate ſeue

Turnes to reſtraint: our Natures doe purſue

Like

Measre for Measre.

63

Like Rats that ravin downe their proper Bane,
A thirly evill, and when we drinke, we die.

Luc. If I could fpeake so wifely, under an arreft, I
would fend for certaine of my Creditors : and yet, to fy
the truth, I had as liefe have the foppery of freedome, as
the mortality of imprifonment : what's thy offence,
Claudie ?

Cla. What (but to fpeake of) would offend againe.

Lue. What is't murder ?

Cla. No.

Luc. Lechery ?

Cla. Call it so.

Pro. Away, fir, you muft goe.

Cla. One word, good friend :

Lucio, a word with you.

Luc. A hundred :

If they'l doe you any good : Is Lechery fo look'd after ?
Cla. Thus flands it with me : upon a true contract

I got poſſection of Iuliettaſs bed,
You know the Lady, ſhe is ſaſt my wife,
Save that we doe the denunciation lacke
Of outward Order. This we came not to,
Onely for propagation of a Dowre
Remaining in the Coffer of her friends,
From whom we thought it meet to hide our Love
Till Time had made them for us. But it chances
The fealeth of our moſt mutuall entertainment
With Charaſter too groſſe, is writ in Iuliet.
Luc. With Childe, perhaps ?

Cla. Unhappily, even fo.

And the new Deputy, now for the Duke,
Whether it be the fault and glimpſe of newneſſe,
Or whether that the body publique, be
A horſe whereon the Governour doth ride,
Who newly in the ſeat, that it may know
He can command ; let it ſtrait ſeel the ſpur :
Whether the tyranny be in his place,
Or in his eminence that ſils it up
I ſagger in : But this new Governour
Awakes me all the enrolled penalties
Which have (like unfcown'd Armor) hung by th'wall
So long, that nineteene Zodiacks have gone round,
And none of them been worn; and for a name
Now puts the drowſe and neglected Act
Freſhly on me : 'tis ſurely for a name.

Luc. I warrant it is: and thy head flands fo tickle on thy shoulders, that a Milke-maid, if ſhe be in love, may ſigh it off: Send after the Duke and appeale to him.

Cla. I have done ſo, but he's not to be found.
I prethee (Lucio) doe me this kinde ſervice :
This day, my filter ſhould the Cloyſter enter,
And there receive her approbation.

Acquaint her with the danger of my ſlate,
Implore her, in my voyce, that ſhe make friends
To the striſt Deputy: bid her ſelfe affay him,
I have great hope in that : for in her youth
There is a prone and ſpeechleſſe Diaſt,
Such as move men: beſide ſhe hath proſperous Art
When the will play with reaſon, and diſcourſe,
And well ſhe can perſwade.

Luc. I pray ſhe may; as well for the encouragement
of the like, which ſelfe would ſtand upon grievous impo-
ſition: as for the enjoying of thy life, who I would be for-
ry ſhould be thus foolishly loſt, at a game of Ticke-tacke :
Ile to her.

Cla. I thanke you good friend Lucio.

Luc. Within two hours.

Cla. Come Officer, away.

Exeunt.

## Scena Quarta.

Enter Duke and Frier Thomas.

Duke. No: holy Father, throw away that thought,
Believe not that the dribbling dart of love
Can pierce a compleat boſome: why, I defire thee
To give me ſecret harbour, hath a purpofe
More grave and wrinkled, then the aimes and ends
Of burning youth.

Fri. May your Grace ſpeake of it.

Duke. My holy fir, none better knowes then you
How I have ever lov'd the life remov'd
And held in idle price, to haunt afflembles
Where youth and coſt, and witleſſe bravery keepeſ.
I have delivered to Lord Angelo
(A man of ſtricture and firme abſtinence)
My abſolute power, and place here in Vienna,
And he ſuppofes me travail'd to Poland,
(Far ſo I have ſtrew'd it in the common eare)
And ſo it is receiv'd: Now (pions fir)
You will demaund of me, why I do this.

Fri. Gladly, my Lord.

Duke. We have ſtrict Statutes, and moſt biting Lawes,
(The needfull bits and curbes for headſtrong weeds,)
Which for this fourteene yares, we have let ſlip,
Even like an ore-growne Lyon in a Cave
That goes not out to prey: Now, as fond Fathers,
Having bound up the threatening twigs of Birch,
Onely to ſticke it in their childrens fight,
For error, not to uſe: in time the rod
More mock'd then fear'd: ſo our Decrees,
Dead to infiſtioń, to themſelves are dead,
And liberty plucks Iuſtice by the noſe ;
The Baby beates the Nurſe, and quite athwart
Goes all decorum.

Fri. It reſled in your Grace

To unloofe thistyle-up Iuſtice, when you pleas'd:
And it in you more dreadfull would have ſeem'd
Than in Lord Angelo.

Duke. I doe ſeare, too dreadfull :

Sith twas my fault to give the people ſcops,
'Twould be my tyranny to ſtrike & gall them,
For what I bid them doe : For we bid this be done
When evill deeds have their permiſive pafle,
And not the puniſhment; therefore indeed (my father)
I have on Angelo impos'd the office,
Who may in th'ambush of my name, ſtrike home,
And yet, my nature never in the fight

To doe in ſlander: And to behold his ſway
I will, as twere a brother of your Order,
Vifit both Prince and people: Therefore I prethee
Supply me with the habit, and inſtruct me
How I may formally in perſon beare

Like a true Frier: Moe reaſons for this action
At your more leſure, ſhall I render you;

Onely this one: Lord Angelo is precife,
Stands at a guard with Envie: ſcarce confſſes
That his blood flowes: or that his appetite
Is more to bread than ſtone: hence ſhall we ſee

If power change purpofe: what our Seemers be, Exeunt.

F 2

Scena

him arreſted:
't, within theſe
ot have it ſo:
getting Ma-
ne nothing neere
Proclamation.
Exeunt,
with the wea,
overty, I, am
neews with

River,
by him?
aid by him:
you?

na muſt bee

he Citie?
gone downe

he Suburbeſ

Common-
hours lacke
ou need not
urage, there
ne your eies
ed.

let's with-
he Provſt
Exeunt.

two Gent.
th' world?

ſtraint,
es this re-
erty,

Like

66

# Measure for Measure.

Eſc. I fir, very well.

Clo. Nay, I befeech you marke it well.

Eſc. Well, I doe to.

Clo. Doth your honour ſee any harme in his face ?

Eſc. Why no.

Clo. Ile be lappos'd upon a booke, his face is the worſt thing about him: good then: if his face be the worſt thing about him, how could Maſter Froth do the Conſtables wife any harme ? I would know that of your honour.

Eſc. He's in the right (Conſtable) what ſay you to it?

Elb. Firſt, and it like you, the houſe is a reſpected houſe; next, this is a reſpected fellow; and his Miftris is a reſpected woman.

Clo. By this hand fir, his wife is a more reſpected perſon then any of us all.

Elb. Varlet, thou lyeſt; thou lyeſt wicked Varlet: the time is yet to come that ſhee was ever reſpected with man, woman, or childe.

Clo. Sir, the was reſpected with him before he married with her.

Eſc. Which is the wiser here; Inſtice, or Iniquitie? Is this true?

Elb. O thou Caytiffe: O thou Varlet: O thou wickeſt Hannibal; I reſpected with her, before I was married to her ? If ever I was reſpected with her, or the with me, let not your Worſhip thinke me the poore Dukes Officer: prove this, thou wicked Hannibal, or Ile have mine action of battery on thee.

Eſc. If he tooke you a box 'oth'eare, you might have your action of flander too.

Elb. Marry I thanke your good worſhip for it: what is't your Worſhips pleafure I ſhall doe with this wicked Caytiffe?

Eſc. Truely Officer, becauſe he hath ſome offences in him, that thou wouldſt discover, if thou couldſt, let him continue in his courſes, till thou know't what they are,

Elb. Marry I thanke your Worſhip for it: Thou feeſt thou wick'd Varlet now, what's come upon thee. Thou art to coindue now thou Varlet, thou art to continue.

Eſc. Where were you borne, friend ?

Froth. Herein Vienna, Sir.

Eſc. Are you of ſouſe core pounds a yeere ?

Froth. Yes, and 'tpleaſe you fir.

Eſc. So: what trade are you of, fir ?

Clo. A Tapfter, a poore Widdowes Tapfter.

Eſc. Your Miftris name ?

Clo. Miftris Over-don.

Eſc. Hath the had any more then one husband ?

Clo. Nine, fir: Over-don by the laſt.

Eſc. Nine? come hither to me, Maſter Froth; Maſter Froth, I would not have you acquainted with Tapſters; they will draw you Maſter Froth, and you will hang them: get you gone, and let me heare no more of you.

Fro. I thanke your worſhip: for mine owne part, I never come into any coome in a Tap-houſe, but I am drawne in.

Eſc. Well: no more of it Maſter Froth: farewell: Come you hither to me, M. Tapfter: what's your name M. Tapfter ?

Clo. Pompey.

Eſc. What elfe ?

Clo. Bum, Sir.

Eſc. Troth, and your Bum is the greatest thing about you, so that in the beaſtlieſt ſenſe, you are Pompey the

great; Pompey, you are partly a Bawd, Pompey; how ſever you colour it being a Tapfter, are you not? come, tell me true, it shall be the better for you.

Clo. Truely fir, I am a poore fellow that would live,

Eſc. How would you live Pompey ? by being a Bawd? what doe you thinke of the Trade Pompey ? is it a lawfull Trade?

Clo. If the Law would allow it, fir.

Eſc. But the law will not allow it Pompey; nor it shall not beallowed in Vienna.

Clo. Do's your Worſhip meane to geld and play all the youth in the Citie ?

Eſc. No, Pompey.

Clo. Truely Sir, in my poore opinion they will toot then: if your Worſhip will take order for the Drabs and Knaves, you need not to feare the Bawdes.

Eſc. There are pretty orders beginning I can tell you: It is but heading and hanging.

Clo. If you head and hang all that offend that way but for ten yeare together; you'll be glad to give out a Comſmiffion for more hoads: if this law hold in Vienna ten yeares, Ile rent the faireſt houſe in it after three pence a Bay: if you live to ſee this come to paffe, ſay Pompey told you to.

Eſc. Thanke you good Pompey; and in requitall of your Propheſie, harke you: I advife you let me not ſinde you before me againe upon any complaint whatsoever: no, not for dwelling where you doe: if I doe Pompey, I shall beat you to your Tent, and prove a ſhrewd Caſar to you: in plaine dealing Pompey, I shall have you whipt; so for this time, Pompey, fare you well!

Clo. I thanke your Worſhip for your good confuſſell; but I shall follow it as the fleſh and fortune shall better determine. Whip me ? no, no, let Carman whip his Jade, The valiant heart's not whipt out of his Trade.

Eſc. Come bither to me, Maſter Elbow: come hither Maſter Conſiable: how long have you been in this place of Conſtable ?

Elb. Seven yeare and a halſe fir.

Eſc. I thought by the readineſſe in the office, you had continued in it ſome time: you ſay feaven yeeres together.

Elb. And a halſe fir.

Eſc. Alas, it hath beene great paines to you: they doe you wrong to put you ſo off upon't. Are there not men in your Ward ſuſcient to ſerve it?

Elb. 'Faith, fir, few of any wit in ſuch matters: as they are choſen, they are glad to chooſe me for them; I do it for ſome peecce of money, and goe through with all.

Eſc. Looke you bring me in the names of ſome fixe or ſeven, the moſt ſufficient of your Parifh.

Elb. To your Worſhips houſe fir ?

Eſc.: To my houſe: fare you well: what's a clocke, thinke you?

Iuſt. Eleven, fir.

Eſc. I pray you goe hometo dinner with me.

Iuſt. I humbly thanke you.

Eſc. It grieves me for the death of Claudio, But there's no remedy.

Iuſt. Lord Angelo is ſevere.

Eſc. It is but needfull.

Mercy is not it ſelſe, that oft lookes ſo,

Pardon is full the nurſe of ſecond woe:

But yet, poore Claudio; there is no remedy. Come Sir.

Execuut.

Scars

Measure for Measure.

## Scena Secunda.

Enter Frawfyl, Servant.

Ser. Hee's hearing of a Caufe; he will come straight,
I'll tell him of you.

Pro. 'Pray you doe; Ile know
Hispleasure, may be he will relent; alas
He hath but as offended in a dreame,
All Seats, all Ages ſmacke of this vice, and he
To dye for't!

Enter Angelo.

Ang. Now, what's the matter Provoſſ ?

Pro. Is it your will Clandrio (shall dye to morrow ?

Ang. Did not I tell thee yea ? had it thou not order ?
Why do't thou aske againe?

Pro. Left I might be too rafh :

Under your good correction, I have ſeene
When after execution, Iudgement hath
Repented ore his doome.

Ang. Goe to : let that be mine,
Doe you your office, or give up your Place,
And you shall well be ſpar'd.

Pro. I crave your Honors pardon :

What shall be done firſh with the groaning Iuliet?
Shee's very neere her houre.

Ang. Difpofe of her

To ſome more firſt place ; and that with ſpeed,
Ser. Here is the firſt of the man condemn'd,
Defires acceſſe to you.

Ang. Hath he a firſter ?

Pro. I my good Lord, a very vertuous maid,
And to be ſhortly of a Sifter-head,
If not already.

Ang. Well : let her be admitted,
See you the Fornicatreſſe be remov'd,
Let her have needfull, but not lavilſh meanes,
There ſhall be order for't.

Enter Lucio, and Isabella.

Pro. 'Save your Honor.

Ang. Stay a little while : 'are welcome : what's your
Iſab. I am a woefull Sutor to your Honor, (will ?
'Pleafe but your honor heare me.

Ang. Well : what's your ſuite ?

Iſab. There is a vice that moſt I doe abhorre,
And moſt defire ſhould meet the blow of juſtice ;
For which I would not plead, but that I muſt,
For which I muſt not plead, but that I am
At warre, twixt will, and will not.

Ang. Well : the matter ?

Iſab. I have a brother is condemn'd to dye,
I doe beſech you let it be his fault,
And not my brother.

Pro. Heaven give thee moving graces.

Ang. Condemne the fault, and not the aſtor of it,
Why every fault's condemn'd ere it be done :
Mine were the very Cipher of a Function
To fine the faults, whoſe fine ſtaints in record,
And let goe by the Aſtor.

Iſab. Oh juſt, but ſevere law :

I had a brother then ; heaven keepe your honor.

Luc. Give it not ore to him againe, entreat him,
Kneele downe before him, hang upon his gowne,
You are too cold : if you ſhould need a pin,

You could not with more tame a tongue define it :
To him, I fay.

Iſab. Muff he needs dye ?

Ang. Maiden, no remedy.

Iſab. Yes : I doe thinke that you might pardon him,
And neither heaven, nor man grieve at the mercy.

Ang. I will not do't.

Iſab. But can you if you would ?

Ang. Looke what I will not, that I cannot doe.

Iſab. But might you doe't and dee the world no wrong
If to your heart were touch'd with that remorſe,
As mine is to him ?

Ang. Hee's ſentenc'd, tis too late.

Luc. Yo art too cold.

Iſab. Too late ? why no : I that doe ſpake a word,
May call it backe againe : well, beleeve this
No ceremony that to great ones longs,

Nor the Kings Crowne; nor the deputed ſword,
The Marſhalis Truncheon, nor the Iudges Robe
Become them with one halfe ſo good a grace

As mercy does : If he had beene as you, and you as he,
You would have flipt like him, but he like you
Would not have beene ſo ſterne.

Ang. Pray you be gone.

Iſab. I would to heaven I had your potency,
And you were Iſabell : should it then be thus ?
No : I would tell what 'twere to be a judge,
And what a prifoner.

Luc. I touch him : there's the veine.

Ang. Your brother is a forfeit of the Law,
And you but waſte your words.

Iſab. Alas, alas :

Why all the foules that were, were forfeit once,
And he that might the vantage beſt have tooke,
Found out the remedy : how would you be,
If he, which is the top of judgement, ſhould
But judge you, as you are ? Oh, thinke on that,

And mercy then will breathe within your lips
Like man new made.

Ang. Be you content, (faire Maid)
It is the Law, not I, condemne your brother,
Were he my kinfman, brother, or my ſonne;
It ſhould be thus with him : he muſt dye to morrow.

Iſab. To morrow ? oh, that's ſodaine,
Spare him, ſpare him :
Hee's not prepar'd for death ; even for our kitchines
We kill the fowle of ſeafon: ſhall we ſerve heaven
With leſſe reſpect then we doe minifter
To our groſſe ſelves? good, good my Lord, bethinke you;
Who is it that hath di'd for this offence ?
There's many have committed it.

Luc. I, well faid.

Ang. The Law hath not been dead, though it hath flept:
Thoſe many had not dar'd to do that evill
If the firſt, that did th'Edict infringe

Had anſwer'd for his deed. Now 'tis awake,
Takes note of what is done, and like a Prophet
Lookes in a glaſſe that ſhewes what future evill
Either now, or by remiſſenſe; new conceiv'd,
And ſo in progreſſe to be hatch'd, and borne,
Are now to have no ſucceffine degrees,
But here they live to end.

Iſab. Yet ſhow ſome pitty.

Ang. I ſkew it moſt of all, when I ſhow Inſtice;
For then I pitty that he does not know,

Which a diſmis'd offence, would after gaule

And

Measure for Measure.

68

And does him right, that answering one foule wrong
Lives not to act another. Be fatigued;
Your Brother dies to morrow; be content.

If a. So you must be the first that gives this sentence,

And he, that suffers : Oh, it is excellent

To have a Giants strength: but it is tyrannous
To use it like a Giant.

Lne. That's well faid.

Ifab. Could great men thunder

As love himself do's, love would nere be quiet,

For every pelting petty Officer

Would we his heaven for thunder ;

Nothing but thunder : Mercifull heaven,

Thou rather with thy sharpe and sulphurous bolt

Split it the un-wedgable and garled Oke,

Then the soft Mertill : O But man ! proud man !

Dreft in a little briefe authority,

Moſt ignorant of what he's moſt affur'd,

(His glaſſe Eſtence) like an angry Ape

Playes ſuch phantastique tricks before high heaven,

As makes the Angels weepe : who with our ſpleenes,

Would all them ſelv'es laugh mortall.

Lmci. Oh, to him, to him wench : he will relent,

Hee's comming : I perceive't.

Pro. Pray heaven he winne him.

Ifab. We cannot weigh our brother with our ſelſe,
Great men may jeſt with Saints : tis wit in them,
But in the leſſe foule prophanation.

Luc. Thou'rt i'th right (Girl) more o'that.

Ifab. That in the Captaine's but a chollericke word,
Which in the Souldier is flat blaphemy.

Luc. Art avil'd o'that ? more on't.

Ang. Why doe you put theſe fayings upon me ?

Ifab. Because Authority, though it erre like others,
Hath yet a kind of medicine in it ſelſe

That skins the vice o'th top ; goe to your boſome,
Knocke there, and aske your heart what it doth know

That's like my brothers fault : if it conſeſſe

A naturall guiltineſſe, ſuch as is his,

Let it not found a thought upon you tongue

Againſt my brothers life.

Ang. Shee ſpeakes, and 'tis ſuch ſence

That my ſence breeds with it; ſare you well.

Ifab. Gentle my lord, turne backe.

Ang. I will bethinke me : come againe to morrow.

Ifab. Harke, how Ile bribe you : good my lord turne

Ang. How ? bribe me ?

(backe.)

Ifa. I, with ſuch gifts that heaven ſhall share with you,

Luc. You had mar'd all ſelſe.

Ifab. Not with fond Sickles of the teſted-gold,
Or ſtones, whoſe rate are either rich, or poore

As fancy values them : but with true prayers,

That shall be up at heaven, and enter there

Ere Sunne rile : prayers from preferred foules,

From faſting Maides, whoſe mindeſs are dedicate
To nothing temporall.

Ang. Well: come to me to morrow.

Luc. Goe to : 'tis well ; away.

Ifab. Heaven keep your honor ſafe.

Ang. Amen.

For I am that way going to temptation,
Where prayers croſſe.

Ifab. At what howre to marrow,

Shall I attend you lordship ?

Ang. At any time ? fore-noone.

Ifab. 'Save your Honor.

Exeunt.

Ang. From thee : even from thy vertne.

What's this? What's this ? is this her fault, or mine ?
The Tempter, or the Tempted, who finnes moſt ? ha ?

Not ſhe : nor doth the tempt : but it is !

That, lying by the Violet in the Sunne,

Doe as the Carrion do's, not as the flow're,

Corrupt with vertuous ſeafon : Can it be,

That Modety may more betray our ſence

Then womans lightneſſe ? having wale ground enough,
Shall we defire to raze the Sanctuary

And pitch our evill there ? oh ſie, ſie, ſie :

What doſt thou ? or what art thou Angelo ?

Doſt thou defire her fowly, for that ſhings

That make her good ? oh, let her brother live :

Theeves for their robbery have authority,

When Iudges ſteale them ſelv'es: what ! doe I love her,
That I defire to heare her ſpeake againe ?

And ſeale upon her eyes? what is't I dreame on ?

Oh cunning enemy, that to catch a Saint,

With Saints doſt bait thy hooke : moſt dangerous

Is that temptation, that doth goad us on

To finne, in loving vertue : never could the Strumpet

With all her double vigour, Art, and Nature

Once fir my temper : but this vertuous Maid

Subdues me quite : Even till now

When men were fond, I finild, and wondred how. Exit

## Scena Tertia.

Enter Duke, and Provoſt.

Duk. Haile to you, Provoſſ, so I thinke you are.

Pro. I am the Provoſt: what's your will, good Frier ;

Duk. Bound by my charity, and my bleſſ order,

I come to viſit the afflicted ſpirits.

Here in the prifon : doe me the common right

To let me fee them : and to make me know

The nature of their crimes, that I may minifter

To them accordingly.

Pro. I would do more then that, if more were needfull.

Enter Juliet.

Looke here comes one : a Gentlewoman of mine,

Who falling in the flaves of her owne youth,

Hath blifterd her report : She is with child,

And he that got it, ſentenc'd : a yong man,

More fit to do another ſuch offence,

Then dye for this.

Duk. When muſt he dye ?

Pro. As I do thinke to morrow.

I have provided for you, ſlay a while

And you ſhall be conducted.

Duk. Repent you (faire one) of the fin you carry ?

Iul. I doe ; and beare the ſhame moſt patiently.

Duk. Ile teach you how you ſhall ariaign your confidence
And try your penitence, if it be found,

Or hollowly put on.

Iul. Ile gladly learne.

Duk. Love you the man that wrong'd you ?

Iul. Yes, as I love the woman that wrong'd him.

Duk. So then it feemes your moſt offence full aſt
Was mutually committed.

Iul. Mutually.

Duk. Then was your finne of heavier kind than his.

Iul. I doe ſentenc'e it, and repent it (Father.)

Duk. Tis

Meaſure for Meaſure.

69

Duk. 'Tis meet to (daughter) but le aſt you doe repent
As that the ſinne hath brought you to this ſhame,
Which tomorrow is alwayestoward our ſelves, not heaven,
Showing we would not ſpare heaven, as we love it,
But as we ſtand in feare.

Ind. I doe repent me, as it is an evill,
And take the ſhame with joy.

Duk. There reſt :

Your partner (as I heare) muſt dye to morrow,
And I am going with inſtruction to him :
Grace goe with you, Benedicte.

Exeunt.

Ind. Muſt dye to morrow ? oh injurious love
That reſpits me a life, wholeſe very comfort
Is ſtill a dying horror.

Pro. 'Tis pitty of him.

Exeunt.

## Scena quarta.

Enter Angelo.

An. When I would pray, and thinke, I thinke, and pray
To ſeveral ſubjects: heaven hath my empty words,
Whilft my Invention, hearing not my Tougne,
Anchors on Iſabell: heaven in my mouth,
As if I did but onely chew his name,
And in my heart the ſtrong and ſwelling evill

Of my conception: the late whereon I ſtudied
Is like a good thing, being often read
Crowne ſteard, and tedious : yea, my Gravity
Wherein (let no man heare me) I take pride,
Could I, with boote, change for an idle plume

Which the ayre beats for vaine : oh place ! oh forme !
How often doſt thou with thy caſe, thy habit
Wrench awe from fooles, and tye the wifer ſoules
Tothy falſe ſeeming ? Blood, thou art blood,
Let's write good Angell on the Devills horne,
'Tis not the devills Creft: how now ? who's there ?

Enter Servants.

Ser. One Iſabell, a Sifter, deſires acceſſe to you.
Ang. Teach her the way : oh, heavens
Why doe's my blond thus muſter to my heart,
Making both it unable for it ſelſe,
And diſpoſeſling all my other parts
Of neceſſary ſinſeſſe ?

So play the foolſih throngs with one that ſwounds,
Come all to helpe him, and ſo ſtop the ayre
By which he ſhould revieue : and even ſo
The generall ſubject to a wel-wiſht King

Quit their owne part, and in obſequious fondneſſe
Crowd to his prefence, where their untaught love
Muſt needs appeare offence : how now faire Maid?

Enter Iſabella.

Iſa. I am cometo know your pleaſure.

(me,

An. That you might know it, would much better pleafe
Then to demand what 'tis: your brother cannot live.

Iſa. Even ſo : heaven keepe your Honor.

An. Yet may he live a while : and it may be
As long as you, or I: yet he muſt dye.

Iſab. Under your Sentence ?
Ang. Yea.

Iſab. When, I beſeech you ? that in his Reprieve
(Longer, or ſhorter) he may be ſo fitted
That his ſoule ficken not.

Ang. Ha? ſie, theſe filthy vices : It were as good

To pardon him, that hath from nature ſtelle
A man already made, as to remit

Their fawcy ſweetneſſe, that doe coyne heavens Image
In ſtamps that are forbid : 'tis all as eafie,
Falfely to take away a life true made,
As to put mettle in reſtrained meanes
To make a falſe one.

Iſab. 'Tis fet downe ſo in heaven, but not in earth!

Ang. Say you ſo : then I ſhall poze you quickly.
Which had you rather, that the moſt juſt Law
Now tooke your brothers life, and to redeeme him
Give up your body to ſuch sweet uncleanneſſe,
As the that he hath ſtand ?

Iſab. Sir, beleeve this,
I had rather give my body, then my ſoule.

Ang. I talke not of your ſoule : our compel'd finnes
Stand more for number, then for accompt.

Iſab. How ſay you?
Ang. Nay I lie not warrant that: for I can ſpeake
Againit the thing I ſay: Anſwer to this,
I (now the voyce of the recorded Law)
Pronounce a ſentence on your brothers life,
Might there not be a charity in finne,
To have this brothers life ?

Iſab. Pleaſe you to doo'ts,
Ile take it as a perill to my ſoule,

It is no finne at all, but charity.

Ang. Pleaſ' d you to doo't, at perill of your ſoule
Were equall poize of finne, and charity.

Iſab. That I doe beg his life, if it be finne
Heaven let me beare it: you granting of my ſuit,
If that be finne, Ile make it my Morne-prayer,
To have it added to the faults of mine,
And nothing of your anſwer.

Ang. Nay, but heare me.

Your ſence purſues not mine: either you are ignorant,
Or ſeeme ſo crafty ; and that's not good.

Iſab. Let me be ignorant, and in nothing good,
But graciously to know I am no better.

Ang. Thus wifdome wifhes to appeare moſt bright,

When it doth taxe it ſelſe : As theſe blacke Maſques

Proclaime an en-ſhield beauty ten times louder
Then beauty could diſplaied: But marke me,

To be received plaine, Ile ſpeake more groſſes

Your brother is to dye.

Iſab. So.

Ang. And his offence is ſo, as it appears,
Accountant to the Law, upon that paine.

Iſab. True.
Ang. Admit no other way to ſave his life

(As I ſubſcribe not that, nor any other,
But in the ſoffe of queſtion) that you, his Sifter,
Finding your ſelſe deſir'd of ſuch a perſon,

Whofe credit with the Judge, or owne great place,
Could fetch your brother from the Manacles
Of the all-building-Law : and that there were

No earthly meane to ſave him, but that either

You muſt lay downe the treaſures of your body,
To this ſuppoſed, or ſelſe to let him ſuffer :

What would you doe ?

Iſab. As much for my poore Brother, as my ſelſe :
That is : were I under the tearmes of death,
Th'imprefſion of keene whips, I'd weare as Rubies,
And ftrip my ſelſe to death, as to a bed,
That longing have beene ſicke for, ere I'd yeeld
My body up to ſhame.

Ang. Then

Measure for Measure.

70

Ang. Then muſt your brother dye.
Iſa. And 'twer the cheaper way :
Better it were a brother di'd at once,
Then that a filter, by redeeming him
Should dye for ever.

Ang. Were not you then as cruell as the Sentence,
That you have flander'd to?

Iſa. Ignominy in ranſome, and free pardon
Are of two houſes: lawſul mercy,
Is nothing kin to ſoule redemption.

Ang. You ſeem'd of late to make the Law a tirant,
And rather prov'd the ſliding of your brother
A merriment, then a vice.

Iſa. Oh pardon me my lord, it oft fails out
To have, what we would have,
We ſpeake not what we meane ;

I ſomething doe excufe the thing I hate,
For his advantage that I dearely love.

Ang. We are all fraile.

Iſa. Iſſe let my brother dye,
If not a feodary but onely he
Owe, and ſuceed thy weakenſe.

Ang. Nay, women are fraile too.

Iſa. I, as the glaſſes where they view themſelves,
Which are as eſſie broke as they make formes :
Women? Helpe heaven; men their creation marre
In profiting by them: Nay, call us ten times fraile,
For we are ſoft, as our complexions are,
And credulous to falſe prints.

Ang. I thinke it well :

And from this reſtimmony of your owne ſex
(Since I luppofe we are made to be no ſtronger
Then faults may ſhake our frames) let me be bold;
I doe arreſt your words. Be that you are,
That is, a woman ; if you be more, you'r none.
If you be one (as you are well expreſt)
By all externall warrants) ſhew it now,
By putting on the deſtin'd Livery.

Iſa. I have no tongue but one; gentle my lord,
Let me entreat you ſpeake the former language.

Ang. Plainly conceive I love you.

Iſa. My brother did love Iuliet.

And you tell me that he ſhall dye for't.

Ang. He ſhall not Iſabell if you give me love,

Iſa. I know your vertue hath a licence in't,
Which ſeemes a little ſouler then it is,

To plucke on others.

Ang. Believe me on mine Honor,
My words expreſſe my purpope.

Iſa. Ha ? Little honor, to be much believe'd,
And moſt pernicious purpope : Seeming, ſeeming,
I will proclaime thee Angelo, ſooke for't.
Signe me a prefent pardon for my brother,
Or with an out-fretcht throat Ile tell the world aloud
What man thou art.

Ang. Who will believee thee Iſabell?
My unfold name, th' auſſeerenſe of my life,
My vouch againſt you, and my place i'th State,
Will ſo your accuſation over-weigh,
That you ſhall ſtifle in your owne report,
And ſmell of calumny. I have begun,
And now I give my ſenſuall race, the reine,
Fit thy conſent to my ſharpe appetite,
Lay by all nicety, and prolioxious blufhes
That banifh what they ſue for : Redeem thy brother,
By yeelding up thy body to my will,

Or eſſe he muſt not onely dye the death,
But thy unkindneſſe ſhall his death draw out
To lingring ſufferance : Anſwer me to morrow,
Or by the affection that now guides me moſt,
Ile prove a Tirant to him. As for you,
Say what you can; my falſe, ore-weighs your rue. Exit.

Iſa. To whom ſhould I complainie ? Did I tell this,
Who would believee me ? O perilous mouthes
That beare in them, one and the ſelſe fame tongue,
Either of condemnation, or approoſe,
Bidding the Law make curſie to their will,
Hooking both right and wrong to th' appetite,
To follow as it drawes. Ile to my brother,
Though he hath falne by prompture of the blood,
Yet hath he in him ſuch a mind of Honor,
That had he twenty heads to tender downe
On twenty bloody blocks, hee'd yeeld them up,
Before his ſiſer should her body ſtoope
To ſuch abhord pollution.

Then Iſabell live chaſte, and brother dye ;
"More then our Brother, is our Chaſtity.

Ile tell him yet of Angelo's requeſt,
And fit his mind to death, for his ſoules reſt.

Exit.

Actus Tertius, Scena Prima.

Enter Duke, Claudio, and Provoſt.

Duk. So then you hope of pardon from lord Angelo?

Claudio. The miſerable have no other medicine
But only hope: I'have hope to live, and am prepar'd to
dye.

Duke. Be abſolute for death : either death or life
Shall thereby be the ſweeter. Reaſon thus with life :
If I doe looke thee, I doe looke a thing
That none but fooles would keepe: a breath thou art,
Servile to all the skyie-influences,
That doſt this habitation where thou keeſt
Hourely afflіct : Meercly, thou art deaths ſtoole,
For him thou labourſt by thy flight to ſhun,
And yet runſt toward him ſill. Thou art not noble,
For all th'accommodations that thou beareſt,
Are nurſt by bafeſeneſe : Thou'rt by no meanes valiant,
For thou doſt ſeare the ſoft and tender forſe
Of a poore worme : thy beſt of reſt is ſleep,
And that thou oft provoakſt, yet groſſely fearſt
Thy death, which is no more. Thou art not thy ſelſe,
For thou exiſts on many a thouſand graines
That iſſue out of duſt. Happy thou art not,
For what thou haſt not, ſtill thou ſtriv'st to get,
And what thou haſt, ſorgetſt. Thou art not certaine,

After the Moone : if thou art rich, thou'rt poore,
For like an Aſſe, whoſe backe with Ingots bowes ;
Thou beareſt thy heavy riches but a journey,
And death unloads thee ; Friend haſt thou none.
For thine owne bowels which doe call thee, fire
The meere effusion of thy proper loynes,
Doe curſe the Gout, Sarpegio, and the Rheume
For ending thee no ſooner. Thou haſt nor youth, nor age
But as it were an after-dinners ſleep.
Dreaming on both, for all thy bleſſed youth
Becomes as aged, and doth begge the almes
Of palſed-Eld : and when thou art old, and rich

Thou

Measure for Measure.

71

Thou haſt neither heatè, affection, limbe, nor beauty
To make thy riches pleafant: what's yet in this
That beares the name of life ? Yet in this life
Lye hid moe thouſand deaths; yet death we feare
That makes theſe oddes, all even.

Cla. I humbly thankè you.
To ſue to live, I find I ſeeke to dye,
And feeking death, find life: Let it come on.

Enter Ifabella.

Ifab. What hoa ? Peace heere; Grace, and good company.

Fro. Who's there ? Come in, the wifh defervesa welcome.

Duk. Deere fir, ere long Ile vifit you againe.

Cla. Moſt holy fir, I thankè you.

Ifa. My buſneſſe is a word or two with Claudio.

Pro. And very welcome: looke Signior, here's your
ſilter.

Duk. Provoſt, a word with you.

Pro. As many as you pleafe,

Duk. Bring them to ſpake, where I may be conceal'd,
yet heare them.

Exeunt.

Cla. Now ſilter, what's the comfort ?

Ifa. Why,

As all comforts are: moſt good, moſt good indeed,
Lord Angelo having affaires to heaven
Intends you for his ſwift Ambaſſador,
Where you ſhall be an everlaſting Leiger ;

Therefore your beſt appointment make with ſpeed,
To Morrow you fet on.

Cla. Is there no remedy ?

Ifa. None but ſuch remedy, as to ſave a head

To cleave a heart in twaine:

Cla. But is there any ?

Ifa. Yes, brother, you may live ;

There is a divellſiſh mercy in the ludge,
If you'l implore it, that will free your life,
But feter you till death.

Cla. Perpetuall durance !

Ifa. I juſt, perpetuall durance, a reſtraint
Through all the worlds vaſtivity you had
To a determin'd ſcope.

Cla. But in what nature ?

Ifa. In ſuch a one, as you conſenting too't,
Would barke your honor from that trunke you beare,
And leave you naked.

Cla. Let me know the point.

Ifa. Oh, I doe ſeare thee Claudio, and I quake,
Leaſt thou a feaurous life ſhouldſt entertaine,
And fixe or ſeven winters more reſpect

Then a perpetuall honor. Dar'ſt thou dye ?
The ſence of death is moſt in apprehenſion,

And the poore Beetle that we tread upon
In corporall ſufferance, ſinds a pang as great,
As when a Giant dyes.

Cla. Why give you me this ſhame ?

Thinke you I can a reſolution fetch
From flowry tenderneſſe ? If I muſt dye,
I will encounter darkneſſe as a bride,
And bugge it in mine armes.

Ifa. There ſpake my brother : there my fathers grave
Did utter forth a voyce. Yes, thou muſt dye :
Thou art too noble, to confer ve a life

In bafe appliances. This outward ſainted Deputy,
Whofe fetled viſage, and deliberate word
Nips youth i'th head, and follies doth emmew

As Falcon doth the fowle, is yet a divell :

His filth within being caſt, he would appeare
A pond, as deepe as hell.

Cla. The Princely, Angelo?

Ifa. Oh'tis the canning Livery of hell,
The damnedſt body to ineſt, and cover
In Princely gardes; doſt thou thinke Claudio,
If I would yeeld him my virginty

Thou might'ſt be freed ?

Cla. Oh heavens, it cannot be.

Ifa. Yes, he would giv't thee; from this ranke offence
So to offend him ſtill. This night's the time

That I ſhould doe what I abhorre to name,
Or elſe thou dieſt to morrow.

Cla. Thou ſhalt not do't.

Ifa. O₂ were it but my life,

I'de throw it downe for your deliverance
As frankly as a pin.

Cla. Thankes deere Ifabell.

Ifa. Be ready Claudio, for your death to morrow.

Cla. Yes. Has he affections in him.

That thus can make him bite the Law by th'noſe,
When he would force it ? Sure it is no finne,
Or of the deadly ſeven it is the leaſt.

Ifa. Which is the leaſt ?

Cla. If it were damnable, he being ſo wife,
Why would he for the momentary tricke
Be perdurably fin'd? Oh Ifabell.

Ifa. What fayes my brother ?

Cla. Death is a fearefull thing.

Ifa. And ſhamed life, a hatefull.

Cla. I, but to dye, and goe we know not where.

To Iye in cold obſtruction, and to rot,
This ſenſible warne motion, to become

A kneaded clod; and the delighted ſpirit

To bathe in fiery floods, or to reſide

In thrilling region of thick-ribbed Ice,

To be imprifon'd in the vicwleſſe windes

And blowne with reſtleſſe violence round about

The pendant world : or to be worſe then worſt

Of thofe, that lawleſſe and incertaine thought,

Imagine howling, 'tis too horrible.

The wearieſt, and moſt loathed worldly life

That Age, Ache, penury, and imprifonment

Can lay on nature, is a Paradife

To what we feare of death.

Ifa. Alas, alas.

Cla. Sweet Sifter, let me live.

What finne you doe, to ſave a brothers life,

Nature diſpenſes with the deed ſo farre,

That it becomes a vertue.

Ifa. Oh you beaſt!

Oh faithleſſe Coward ! oh diſhoneſt wretch,

Wilt thou be made a man, out of my vice ?

Is't not a kind of ineſt, to take life

From thine owne fifters ſhame ? What ſhould I thinke,
Heaven ſhield: my Mother plaid my Father faire :

For fucha warped ſlip of wilderneſſe

Nere iſu'd from his blood. Take my defiance,

Dye, perſih : Might but my bending downe

Repreve thee from thy fate, it ſhould proceed.

Ile pray a thouſand prayers for thy death;
No word to ſave thee.

Cla. Nay heare me Ifabell.

Ifa. Oh, ſie, ſie, ſie.

Thy finn's not accidentall, but a Trade;

Mercy

Measure for Measure.

Mercy to thee would prove it felfe a Bawd,
'Tis beft that thou dieth quickly.

Cla. Oh heare me Isabilla.
Duke Steps in.

Duk. Vouchsafe a word, yong fitter, but one word.

Isa. What is your Will.

Duk. Might you difpenſe your leifure, I would
by and by have ſome ſpccch with you : the ſatistaction I
would require, is likewife your owne benefit.

Isa. I have no ſuperfluous leifure, my ſtay muſt be
flotten out of other affaires : but I will attend you a while.

Duk. Son, I have over-heard what hath pafft betweene
you and your fitter. Angelo had never the purpofe to cor-
rupt her; onely he hath made an affayl of her, vertue, to
practife his judgement with the diſpoſition of natures.
She (having the truth of honor in her) hath made him
that gracious denial, which he is moſt glad to receive: I
am Confeffor to Angelo, and I know this to be true, there-
fore prepare your ſeife to death : doe not ſatistifie your re-
ſolution with hopes that are fallible, to morrow you muſt
dye, goe to your knees, and make ready.

Cla. Let me ask me your fitter pardon, I am ſo out of love
with life, that I will ſue to be rid of it.
Exit.

Duk. Hold you there: farewell: Provoſſa, a word with
you.

Pro. What's your will (father?)

Duk. That now you are come, you will be gone: leave
me a while with the Maid, my mind promifes with my
habit, no loffe ſhall touch her by my company.
Exit.

Pro. In good time.

Duk. The hand that hath made you faire, hath made
you good: the goodneſſe that is cheape in beauty, makes
beauty briefe in goodneſſe; but grace being the foule of
your complexion, ſhall keepe the body of it ever faire:
the affault that Angelo hath made to you, Fortune hath
convaid to my understanding; and but that frailty hath
examples for his falling, I should wonder at Angelo: how
will you doe to content this Subſtitute, and to fave your
brother?

Isab. I am now going to refolve him: I had rather
my brother dy e by the Law, then my ſonne ſhould be un-
lawfully borne. But (oh) how much is the good Duke
deceiv'd in Angelo: if ever he returne, and I can ſpeake
to him, I will open my lips in vaine, or diſcover his go-
vernment.

Duk. That ſhall not be much amiffie: yetas the mat-
ter now flands, he will avoyd your accufation: he made
triall of you onely. Therefore faſten your care on my ad-
vifings, to the love I have in doing good; a remedy pre-
fents it ſelfe. I doe make my ſelfe believe that you may
moſt uprightcoaſly doe a poore wronged Lady a merited
benefit; redreme your brother from the angry Law; and
doe no ſtaine to your owne gracious perſon, and much
pleafe the abſent Duke, if peradventure he ſhall ever re-
turne to have hearing of this butineſſe.

Isab. Let me heare you ſpeake farther; I have ſpirit to
doe any thing that appears not foule in the truth of my
ſpirit.

Duke. Vertue is bold, and goodneſſe never fearefull:
Have you not heard ſpeak of Mariana the fitter of Fre-
dericke the great Souldier, who miſcarried at Sea?

Isab. I have heard of the Lady, and good words went
with hername:

Duke. She ſhould this Angelo have married: was af-
fianced to her by oath, and the nuptial appointed: between
which time of the contract, and limit of the solemnity,
her brother Fredericke was wrackt at Sea, having in that

perſified veſſel, the dowry of his ſitter: but marke how
heavily this beſtell to the poore Gentlewoman, there he
left a noble and renowned brother, in his love toward
her, ever moſt kind and naturall : with him the portion
and finew of her fortune, her marriage dowry: with
both, her combynate-husband, this well ſeeming An-
gelo.

Isab. Can this be ſo ? did Angelo ſo leave her ?

Duk. Left her in her teares, and dried not one of them
with his comfort: ſwallowed his vowes whole, preten-
ding in her, diſcoveries of diſhonor: in ſew, beſtow'd
her on her owne lamentation, which he yet weares for
his ſake: and he, a marble to her cares, is waſhed with
them, but relents not:

Isab. What a merit were it in death to take this poore
maid from the world ? what corruption in this life, that
it will let this man live? But how out of this can ſhe a-
vail?

Duk. It is a rupture that you may easily heale: and the
cure of it not only faves your brother, but keepe you
from diſhonor in doing it.

Isab. Shew me how (good father.)

Duk. This forenamed Maid hath yet in her the con-
tinuance of her firſt affection: his unjuſt unkindneſſe
(that in all reaſon should have quenched her love) hath
(like an impediment in the Current) made it more vio-
lent and unruly: Goe you to Angelo, anſwer his requi-
ring with a plauſible obedience, agree with his demands
to the point: onely referre your ſelfe to this advantage;
firſt, that your ſtay with him may not be long: that the
time may have all ſhadow, and ſilence in it: and the place
anſwer to convenience: this being granted in coarse,
and now followes all: we ſhall advife this wronged maid
to ſeed up your appointment, goe in your place: if the
encounter acknowledge it ſelfe hereafter, it may com-
pell him to her recompence; and heere, by this is your
brother fav'd, your honor untainted, the poore Maria-
na advantaged, and the corrupt Deputy ſcal'd. The Maid
will I frame, and make ſit for his attempt: if you thinke
well to carry this as you may, the doubleneſſe of the be-
neſt defends the deceit from reproofe. What thinke
you of it?

Isab. The image of it gives me content already, and I
truit it will grow to a moſt properſous perfection.

Duk. It ſyes much in your holding up: haſte you ſpe-
dily to Angelo, if for this night he intreat you to his bed,
give him promife of ſatistaction: I will prefently to St.
Lukes, there at the moated-Granger ſides this deſected
Mariana; at that place call upon me, and diſpatch with
Angelo, that it may be quickly.

Isa. I thanke you for this comfort: fare you well good
father.
Exit.

Enter Elbow, Clowne, Officers.

El. Nay, if there be no remedy for it, but that you
will need ſub buy and ſell men and women like beaſts, we
thall have all the world drinke browne and white ballard.

Duk. Oh heavens, what ſtuffe is here?

Clow. Twas never merry world ſince of two vſuries
the merriéſt was put downe, and the worſer allow'd by
order of Law; a ſur'd gowne to keepe him warme; and
fur'd with Foxe and Lamb-skins too, to ſignifie that craft
being richer then innocency, flands for the facing.

Elbow. Come your way Sir: 'bleſſe you good father
Frier.

Duk. And you good brother father; what offence hath
this man made you, Sir?

Elb. Marry

Measure for Measure.

Elbo. Marry fir, he hath offended the Law; and Sir,
we take him to be a Theefe too fit: for we have found up-
on him sir, a ftrange Pick-locke, which we have lent to
the Deputy.

Duk. Fye, firrah, a Bawd, a wicked bawd,
The evil that thou canfeft to be done,
That is thy meanes to live. Doe thou but thinke
What 'tis to cram a maw, or cloatha backe
From fuch a filthy vice : lay to thy felfe,
From where a abhominable and beafly touches
I drinke, I eate away my felfe, and live :

Canft thou believe thy living is a life,

So flinkingly depending ? Goe mend, goe mend.

(Clo. Indeed, it do's itkinde in fome fort, Sir:
But yet Sir I would prove

Duk. Nay, if the divell have given thee proofes for fin
Thou wilt prove his. Take him to prifon Officer;
Correction, and inſtruction muſt both worke
Ere this rude beaſt will profit.

Elb. He muſt before the Deputy Sir, he ha's given
him warning: the Deputy may not abide a Whore-ma-
fer: if he be a Whore-monger, and comes before him,
he were as good goe a mile on his errand.

Duk. That we were all, as fome would ſee me to be
Ere from our faults, as faults from ſeeing free.

Enter Lucio.

Elb. His necke will come to your waſt, a Cord fir.
Clo. I fyve comfort, I cry baile: Here's, a Gentleman,
and a friend of mine.

Luc. How now noble Pompey ? What, at the wheels
of Cafar ? Art thou led in triumph? What is there none
of Pigmaltians? Images newly made woman to be had now,
for putting the hand in the pocket, and exttracting clutch'd?
What reply ? Ha ? What faift thou to this Tune, Mat-
ter, and Method ? Is't not drownd'd i'th laſt raine ? Ha ?
What faift thou Trot ? Is the world as it was Man ?
Whichisthe way ? Is it ſad, and few words ? Or how ?
The tricke of it ?

Duk. Still thus, and thus: ſtill worſe ?

Luc. How doth my deere Morſell, thy Miſtris ? Pro-
cures the ſtill ? Ha ?

Clo. Troth fir, the hath eaten up all her Beefe, and the
is her ſelfe in the tub.

Luc. Why 'tis good: It is the right of it: it muſt be
fo. Ever your freſh Whore, and your poudre'd Baud, an
unſhun'd ſeqüence, it muſt be fo. Art going to pri-
ſon Pompy?

Clo. Yes faith fir.

Luc. Why 'tis not amſſie Pompey: farewellinge: goe ſay
I ſent thee thether : for debt Pompey ? Or how ?

Elb. For being a baud, for being a baud.

Luc. Well, then imprifon him: If imprifonment be
the due of a baud, why 'tis his right. Baud is he doubt-
leſſe, and of antiquity too: Baud borne. Farewell good
Pompey: Commend me to the prifon Pompey, you will
turne good husband now Pompey, you will keepe the
houſe.

Clo. I hope Sir, your good Worſhip will be my baile?

Luc. No indeed will I not Pompey, it is not the weare:
I will pray (Pompey) to encreafe your bondage if you take
it not patiently: Why, your mettle is the more: Adieu
truyſe Pompey.

Bleſſe you Friar.

Duke. And you.

Luc. Do's Bridget paint full, Pompey ? Ha?

Elb. Come your wayes fir, come.

Clo. You will not baile me then Sir?

Luc. Then Pompey, nor now: what newes abroad Fry-
er ? What newes ?

Lue. Goe to kennell (Pompey) goe:
What newes Fryer of the Duke?

Duke. I know none: can you tell me of any ?

Luc. Some ſay he is with the Emperour of Ruffia: other
fome, he is in Rome: but where is he thinke you ?

Duke. I know not where: but wherefoever, I wifh
him well.

Luc. It was a mad fantasticall tricke of him to ſteale
from the State, and uſurpe the beggery he was never
borne to: Lord Angelo Dukes it, well in his absence: hee
puts transgreſſion too't.

Duke. He do's well in't.

Luc. A little more lenitie to Lechery would doe no
harme in him: Something too crabbed that way, Fryer.

Duk. It is too generall a vice, and ſeverity muſt cure it.

Luc. Yes in good footh, the vice is of a great kindred;
it is well allied, but it is impoffible to extirpe it quite,
Frier, till eating and drinking be put downe. They ſay
this Angelo was not made by Man and Woman, after
this downe-right way of Creation : is it true, thinke
you?

Duke. How should he be made then?

Luc. Some report, a Sea-maid ſpawn'd him. Some,
that he was begot betweene two Stock-fishes. But it
is certaine, that when he makes water, his Vrine is con-
geal'd ice, that I know to be true: and he is a motion
generative, that's inſallible.

Duk. You are pleafant fir, and ſpeake apace.

Luc. Why, what a ruthleſſe thing is this in him, for
the rebellion of a Cod-peece, to take away the life of a
man? Would the Duke that is abſent have done this ?
Ere he would have hang'd a man for the getting a hun-
dred Baſtards; he would have paide for the Nurfing a
thouſand. He had ſome feeling of the Iport, he knew
the ſervice, and that inſtructed him to mercy.

Duk. I never heard the abſent Duke much deteſted
for Women, he was not enclin'd that way.

Luc. Oh Sir, you are deceiv'd.

Duk. Tis not poſſible.

Luc. Who, not the Duke ? Yes, your beggar of fifty :
and his uſe was, to put a ducket in her Clack-dish; the
Duke had Crochets in him. He would be drunke too,
that let me inſorme you.

Duk. You doe him wrong, ſurely.

Luc. Sir, I was an inward of his: a ſhye fellow was
the Duke, and I beleeve I know the cauſe of his with-
drawing.

Duke. What (I prethee) might he the cauſe?

Luc. No, pardon: Tis a ſecret muſt be lockt with-
in the teeth and the lipes: but this I can let you under-
land, the greater file of the ſubject held the Duke to be
wife.

Duk. Wife ? Why no queſtion but he was.

Luc. A very ſuperficiall, ignorant, unweighing fellow.

Duk. Either this is envy in you, ſolly, or miſta-
king: The very ſtreame of his life, and the buſineſſe he
hath helmed, muſt upon a warranted need, give him a
better proclamation. Let him be but teſtimonied in his
owne bringinges forth, and he ſhall appeare to the envi-
ous, a Scholler, a Stateſman, and a ſouldier: therefore
you ſpeak e unſkilfully: or, if your knowledge be more, it
is much darkned in your malice.

G

Luc.

Meaſure for Meaſure.

Luc. Sir, I know him, and I love him.

Duk. Love talkes with better knowledge, and know-
ledge with deare love.

Luc. Come Sir, I know what I know.

Duk. I can hardly believe that, since you know not
what you fpeak. But if ever the Duke returne (as our
prayers are he may) let me defire you to make your an-
fwer before him : if it be honest you have fpoke, you
have courage to maintaineit; I am bound to call upon
you, and I pray you your name ?

Luc. Sir my name is Lucia, well knowne to the Duke.

Duk. He fhall know you better Sir, if I may live to
report you.

Luc. I feare you not.

Duk. O, you hope the Duke will returne no more : or you imagine me too unhurtfull an oppofite: but indeed I can doe you little harme : You'll for-fweare this a-gaine ?

Luc. Ile be hang'd firſt: Thou art deceiv'd in me Friar. But no more of this. Canſt thou tell if *Clandonio* dyeto morrow, or no ?

Duk. Why should he dye Sir ?

Luc. Why? For filling a bottle with a Tonne-difh:
I would the Duke we talke of were return'd againe : this
ungenitur'd Agent wil un-people the Province with Con-
tinency. Sparrowes muſt not build in his houſe-eeſes,
because they are lecherous : The Duke yet would have
darke deeds darkely anſwered, he would never bring
them to light : would he were return'd. Marry this *Clandonio*
is condemned for untruing. Farewell good Friar, I
prethee pray for me : The Duke (I ſay to thee againe)
would eate Mutton on Fridayes. He's now paſt it, yet
(and I ſay to thee) he would mouth with a beggar, though
he ſmelt browne-bread and Garlicke : ſay that I ſaid to:
Farewell.
Exit.

Duke. No might, nor greatneſſe in mortality
Can confure ſcape : Back-wounding calumny
The whiteſt vertue ſtrikes. What King ſo free,ng,
Can ſtye the gall up in the ſlanderous tongue?
But who comes here?

Enter Eſcalu, Provoſt, and Band.

Eſc. Goe, away with her to prifon.

Baud. Good my lord be good to me, your Honor is accounted a mercifall man : good my Lord.

Eſe. Double, and trebble admonition, and fill forſtve
in the fame kind ? This would make mercy ſware and
play the Tirant.

Pro. A Band of eleven yeares continuance, may it pleafe your Honor.

Baud. My lord, this is one Luenio's information againſt me, Miftris Kate Keepe-downe was with child by him in the Dukes time, hee promis'd her marriage: his Child is a yeere and a quarter old come Philip and Iacob: I have kept it my ſelfe ; and fee how he goes about to abufe me.

Eſea. That fellow is a fellow of much Liceſe: Let him be call'd before us. Away with her to prafon : Goe to, no more words. Provoſt, my Brother Angelo will not be alter'd. *Clandonio* muſt dyeto morrow : Let him be furniſh'd with Divines, and have all charitable prepaſation. If my brother wrought by my pity, it ſhould not be ſo with him.

Pro. So please you, this Friar hath beene with him,
and ad'-is'd him for th'entertainment of death.

Eſea. Good even, good father.

Duk. Bluffe, and goodneſſe on you.

Eſca. Of whence are you?

Duke. Not of this Country, though my chance is now
To rule it for my time : I am a brother
Of gracious Order, late come from the Sea,
In ſpecta ſubneſſe from his Holinſte.

Eſea. What newes abroad i'th' World ?

Duk. None, but that there is ſo great a Feavor on
goodneſſe, that the diſſolution of it muſt cure it. Novel-
ty is onely in request, and as it is as dangerous to be aged
in any kind of courtſe, as it is vertuous to be conſtant
in any undertaking. There is ſcarle truth enough alive to
make Societies ſecure, but Security enough to make
Fellowships accurſt. Much upon this riddle runneth the
wifedome of the world : This newes is old enough, yet
it is every dayes newes. I pray you Sir, of what diſpoſi-
tion was the Duke ?

Eſea. One, that above all other ſtrifes,
Contended especially to know himſelfe,
Duk. What plearſure was he given to?

Eſea. Rather rejoycing to fee another merry, then
merry at any thing which profelt to make him rejoyce,
A Gentleman of all temperance. But leave we him to his
events, with a prayer they may prove prolſorous; and
ler me defire to know, how you find *Clandonio* prepar'd?
I am made to understand, that you have lent him viſita-
tion.

Duk. He proteſſes to have received no finiſter meaſure
from his ſidge, but moſt willingly humbles himſelfe to
the determination of Inſtice : yet had he framed to him-
ſelfe (by the inſtruction of his frailty) many deceiving
promifes of life, which I (by my good leſure) have diſil-
credited to him, and now is he reſolv'd to dye.

Eſea. You have paid the heavens your Function, and
the prifoner the very debt of your Calling. I have la-
bour'd for the poore Gentleman, to the extremelt ſhore
of my modetyl, but my brother-juſtice have I found ſo
ſevere, that he hath forſe'd me to tell him, he is indeed
juſtice.

Duk. If his owne life,
Anſwer the ſtraitneſſe of his proceeding,
It ſhall become him well : wherein if he chance to ſae, he
hath ſentenc'd himſelfe.

Eſ. I am going to vifit the prifoner, Fare you well. Exit.

Duk. Peace be with you.

He who the ſword of Heaven will beare,

Should be as holy, as ſeveare :

Patterne in himſelfe to know,

Grace to ſtand, and Vertue goe :

More, nor leſſe to others paying,

Then by ſelſe-offences weighing.

Shame to him, whoſe cruell ſtriking,

Kils for faults of his owne liking :

Twice trebble ſhame on Angelo,

To weede my vice, and let his grow.

Oh, what may Man within him hide,

Though Angell on the outward ſide ?

How may likeneſſe made in crimes,

Making practise on the Times,

To draw with idle Spiders ſtrings

Moft ponderous and ſubſtantiall things?

Craſtagainſt vice, I muſt apply.

With ngelo tonight ſhall lye

His old betroath'd (but deſpiled :)

So difguife ſhall by th'difguited

Pay with faſhood, ſalſe exaſting,

And perform an old contracting.

Exit.
Aſim.

Meaſure for Meaſure.

Actus Quartus, Scæna Prima.

Enter Mariana, and Boy singing.

Song.

Take, oh take those lips away,
that so sweetly were forsworme,
And those eyes: the breake of day
lights that doe mislead the Mornes;
But my kiffes bring againe, bring againe,
Seales of love, but feal'd in vaine, feal'd in vaine.

Enter Duke.

Mavi. Breake off thy long, and haſte thee quick away,
Here comes a man of comfort, whose adviſe
Math often fill'd my brawling discontent.
I cry you mercy, Sir, and well could with
You had not found me here to muſicall.
Let me excufe me, and believe me, to,
My mirth it much diſpleat'd, but pleat'd my woe.

Duk. 'Tis good: though Muficke oft hath such a charme
To make bad, good; and good provoake to harme.
I pray you tell me, hath any body enquir'd for me here
to day? much upon this time have I promiſt here to
meete.

Mari. You have not beene enquir'd after : I have, fat
here all day.

Enter Ifabell.

Duk. I doe conſtantly beleeve you : the time is come
even now. I ſhall crave your forbearance a little, may be
I will call upon you anone for ſome advantage to your
ſelfe.

Mari. I am always bound to you.

Exit.

Duk. Very well met, and well come :

What is the newes from this good Deputy ?

Ifa. He hath a Garden circummur'd with Bricke,
Whose weſterne fide is with a Vineyard back't;
And to that Vineyard is a planched gate,
That makes his opening with this bigger Key:
This other doth command a little doore,
Which from the Vineyard to the Garden leadeſ,
There have I made my promiſe, upon the
Heavy middle of the night, to call upon him.

Duk. But ſhall you on your knowledge find this way ?

Ifa. I have tane a due and wary note upon't,
With whispering, and moſt guilty diligence,
In action all of precept, he did ſhow me
The way twice ore.

Duke. Are there no other tokens

Betweene you'greed, concerning her obſervance ?

Ifa. No: none but only a repaire ith' darke,
And that I have poſſed him, my moſt flay
Can be but briefe: for I have made him know,
I have a Servant comes with me along
That flayes upon me; whose perſwation is,

I come about my brother,

Duk. 'Tis well borne up.

I have not yet made knowne to Mariana

Enter Mariana.

A word of this: what hoa, within; come forth,
I pray you be acquainted with this Maid,
She comes to doe you good.

Ifa. I doe defire the like.

Duk. Doe you perſwade your ſelfe that I reſpect you ?

Mari. Good Frier, I know you doe, and have found it.

Duk. Take then this your companion by the hand
Who hath a ſtory ready for your care:
I ſhall attend your leiſure, but make haſte
The vaporous night approaches.

Mari. Wilt pleafe you walke aſide?

Exits.

Duk. Oh Place, and greatnes: millions of falſe eyes
Are flucke upon thee: volumes of report

Runne with theſe falſe, and moſt contraries Queſts
Vpon thy doings: thouand ſcapes of wit
Make thee the father of their idle dreameſ.

And racke thee in their fancies. Welcome, how agreed ?

Enter Mariana, and Ifabell.

Ifa. She'll take the enterprize upon her, father,
If you adviſe it.

Duk. It is not my conſent,

But my entreaty too.

Ifa. Little have you to ſay

When you depart from him, but ſoft and low,
Remember now my brother.

Mar. Feare me not.

Duk. Nor gentle daughter, feare you not at all:
He is your husband on a pre-contract :

To bring you thus together' tis no ſinne,

Sith that the Inſtice of your title to him

Doth flourifh the deceit. Come, let us goe,
Our Corne's to reape, for yet our Tithes to ſow.

Scæna Secunda.

Enter Frovoſt, and Clowne.

Pro. Come hither firha; can you cut off a mans head?

Clo. If the man be a Bachelor Sir, I can :
But if he be a married man, he's his wiveſs head,
And I can never cut off a womans head.

Pro. Come fir, leave me your ſnatches, and yeeld mee
a direct anſwer. To morrow morning are to dye Clau-
dio, and Barnardine : here is in our prifon a common exer-
cutioner, who in his oſſice lacks a helpe, if you will take
it on you to aſſiſt him, it ſhall redeem you from your
Gyves : if not, you ſhall have your full time of imprifon-
ment, and your deliverance with an unpittied whipping ;
for you have beene a notorious baud.

Clo. Sir, I have beene an unlawfull baud, time out of
mind, but yet I will be content to be a law full hangman :
I would be glad to receive ſome inſtruction from my fel-
low partner.

Pro. What hoa, Abhorſon: where's Abhorſon there?

Enter Abhorſon.

Abho. Doe you call fir ?

Pro. Sirha, here's a fellow will helpe you to morrow
in your execution : if you thinke it meet, compound with
him by the yeere, and let him abide here with you, if not,
neſe him for the prefent, and diſmiſſe him, he cannot
plead his eſtimation with you: he haſh beene a Bawd.

Abho. A Baud Sir ? ſie upon him, he will diſeredit our
mſtery.

Pro. Goetoo Sir, you waigh equally : a feather will
turne the Scale.

Exits.

Clo. Pray fir, by your good favour : for ſurely fir,
a good favor you have, but that you have a hanging looke:
Doe you call fir, your occupation a Mſtery ?

G2

Abh. I,

76

Measure for Measure.

Abbo. I, Sir, a Miltery.

Clo. Painting Sir, I have heard say, is a Miltery: and
your Whores fir, being members of my occupation, v-
fling painting, d'eaprove my Occupation, a Miltery: but
what Miltery there should be in hanging, if I should be
hang'd, I cannot imagine.

Abbo. Sir, it is a Miltery.

Clo. Proofe.

Abbo. Every true man's apparell fits your Theefe.

Clo. If it be too little for your theefe, your true man thinkes it bigge enough. If it be too big for your Theefe, your Theefe thinkes it little enough: So every true man's apparell fits your Theefe.

Enter Provoſt.

Pro. Are you agreed?

Clo. Sir, I will serve him : For I doe find your Hang-
man is a more penitent Trade then you Baud: he doth
oftner aske forgiveness.

Pro. You firah, provide your blocke and your Axe
to morrow, foure a clocke.

Abbo. Come on (Baud) I will infruct thee in my
Trade : follow.

Clo. I doe desire to leane fir and I hope, if you have
occafion to ufe me for your owne turne, you shall find
me y're. For truly fir, for your kindneſſe, I owe you a
good turne.

Exiſt.

Pro. Call hither Barnardine and Claudio:
Th'one has my pitty; not a jot the other,
Being a Murtherer, though he were my brother.

Enter Claudio.

Looke, here's the Warrant Claudio, for thy death,
'Tis now dead midnight, and by eight to morrow
Thou muſt be made immortall. Where's Barnardine?

Cla. As faſt lock'd up in ſleepe, as guiltieſſe labour,
When it lies ſtarkely in the Travellers bones.

He will not wake.

Pro. Who can doe good on him?
Well, goe, prepare your ſelfe. But harke, what noife?
Heaven give your ſpirits comfort : by, and by,
I hope it is ſome pardon, or repreeve
For the moſt gentle Claudio. Welcome father.

Entir Duke.

Duke. The bell, and wholſom ſpirits of the night,
Invellop you, good Provoſt: who call'd heere of late?

Pro. Now ſince the Curphew rumg.

Duk. Not Ifabell.

Pro. No.

Duke. They will then er't be long.

Pro. What comfort is for Claudio?

Duke. There's ſome in hope.

Pro. It is a bitter Deputy.

Duk. Not ſo, not ſo: his life is parallel'd
Even with the ſtroke and line of his great Inſtance :
He does with holy abſtinance ſubdue

That in himſelfe, which he ſpurres on his powre
To qualifie in others: were he meal'd with that
Which he corrects, then were he tyrannous,
But this being ſo, he's juſt. Now are they come.

This is a gentle Provoſt, ſildome when
The ſteeled Gaoler is the friend of men:

How now ? what noife? That ſpirit's poſſeſt with haſte,
That wounds th'unſtifting Poſterne with theſe ſtokes.

Pro. There he muſt ſlay untill the Officer
Ariſe to let him in: he is call'd up.

Duk. Have you no countermand for Claudio yet?

But he muſt dye to morrow?

Pro. None Sir, none.

Duk. As neere the dawning Provoſt, as it is,
You shall heare more ere Morning.

Pro. Happily
You fomething know: yet I beleeve there comes
No countermand: no ſuch example have we :

Befides, upon the very ſiege of justice,

Lord Angelo hath to the publike care

Proſte the contrary.

Enter iu Messengers

Duk. This is his lords man.

Pro. And heere comes Claudio's pardon.

Aeff. My lord hath ſent you this note,

And by me this further charge :
That you ſwerve not from the ſmallest Article of it;
Neither in time, matter, or other circumſtance.

Good morrow: for as I take it, it is almoſt day.

Pro. I shall obey him.

Duk. This is his Pardon purchas'd by ſuch finne,
For which the Pardoner himſelfe is in:

Hence hath offence his quickie celerity,

When it is borne in high Authority.

When Vice makes Mercy; Mercy is ſo extended,

That for the faſtles love, is th'offender friended.

Now Sir, what newes?

Pro. I told you :

Lord Angelo (be-like) thinking me remiſſe

In mine Office, awakens me

With this unwonted putting on, methinkes ſtrangely :

For he hath not us'd it before.

Duk. Pray you let's heare.

The Letter.

What ſever you may heare to the contrary, let Claudio be exé-
ecuted by ſoure of the clocke, and in the afternoone Barnar-
dine: For my better ſatuation, let me have Claudio's
head ſent me by ſive. Let this be duly performed with a
thought that more depends on it, then we muſt get deliver.
Thus faſt not to doe your office, as you will answer it at your
perill.

What ſay you to this Sir ?

Duke. What is that Barnardine, who is to be exec-
ted in th'afternoone?

Pro. A Bohemian borne: But here nurſt up and bred,
One that is a prifoner nine yeeres old.

Duk. How came it, that the abſent Duke had not either
deliver'd him to his liberty, or executed him ? I have
heard it was ever his manner to doe ſo.

Pro. His friends ſtill wrought Repreeves for him:
And indeed his fact till now in the government of lord
Angelo, came not to an undoubtfull proofe.

Duk. It is now apparent ?

Pro. Moſt manifeſt, and not denied by himſelfe.

Duk. Hath he borne himſelfe penitently in prifon ?
How ſeemes he to be touch'd?

Pro. A man that apprehends death no more dreadfully,
but as a drunken ſleepe, careleſſe, wreaſeleſſe, and
ſeareleſſe of what's paſt, preſent, or to come : inſenſible
of mortality, and desperately mortall.

Duk. He wants advice.

Pro. He will heare none: he hath evermore had the li-
berty of the prifon : give him leave to eſcape hence, hee
would not. Drunkue many times a day, if not many dayes
entirely drunkue. We have very oft awak'd him, as ito
carry him to execution, and ſhew'd him a ſeeming war-
rant for it, it hath not moved him at all.

Duke.

Measure for Measure.

77

Duk. More of him anon: There is written in your brow Provoſs, honefy and conſtancy; if I reade it not truely, my ancient skill beguiles me: but in the boldneſſe of my cunning, I will lay my ſelfe in hazard: Clandio, whom heere you have warrant to execute, is no greater for ſuit to the Law, than Angelo who hath ſentenc'd him. To make you understand this in a maniſed effect, I crave but ſoure dayes reſpit: for the which, you are to doe me both a preſent, and a dangerous courteſie.

Pro. Pray Sir, in what ?

Duk. In the delaying death.

Pro. Alacke, how may I doe it ? Having the houre limited, and an expreſſe command, under penalty, to deliver his head in the view of Angelo ? I may make my cafe as Clandio's, to croſſe this in the ſmallest.

Duk. By the vow of mine Order, I warrant you, If my inſtructions may be your guide, Let this Barnardine be this morning executed, And his head borne to Angelo.

Pro. Angelo hath ſeene them both,
And will onſcover the favour.

Duk. Oh, death's a great diſguſer, and you may addre to it; Shave the head, and dye the beard, and ſay it was the deſire of the penitent to be ſo bar'de before his death: you know the courſe is common. If any thing fail to you upon this, more then thanks and good fortune, by the Saint whom I proſeſſe, I will plead against it with my life.

Pro. Pardon me, good father, it is againſt my oath.

Duk. Were you tworne to the Duke, or to the Depu-
ty?

Pro. To him, and to his Subſtitutes.

Duk. You will thinke you have made no offence, if the Duke avouch the juſtice of your dealing ?

Pro. But what like lyehood is in that ?

Duk. Not a reſemblance, but a certainty; yet ſince I fee you ſearefull, that neither my coate, integrity, nor perſwafion, can with eafe attempt you, I will goe further then I meant, to plucke all ſeares out of you. Looke you Sir, here is the hand and Seale of the Duke: you know the Charracter I doubt not, and the Signet is not ſtrange to you?

Pro. I know them both.

Duk. The Contents of this, is the returne of the Duke; you ſhall anon over-reade it at your pleafure: where you ſhall find within theſe two dayes, he will be here. This is a thing that Angelo knows not, for he this very day receives letters of ſtrange tenor, perchance of the Dukes death, perchance entering into ſome Monaſtery, but by chance nothing of what is writ. Looke, th' unfolding Starre calleds up the Shepheard; put not your ſelfe into amazement, how theſe things ſhould be; all difficulties are but eafe when they are knowne. Call your executioner, and off with Barnardines head: I will give him a preſent ſhrift, and advife him for a better place. Yet you are amaz'd, but this ſhall absolutely reſolve you: Come away, it is almoſt cleere dawne.

Exit.

## Scena Tertia.

Enter Cloune,

Clo. I am as well acquainted heere, as I was in our house of preſeſſion: one would thinke it were Miftris

Over-dons owne houſe, for heere bee many of her old Customers. Firſt, here's yong Mr. Raſh, he's in for a commodity of browne paper, and old Ginger, nineſcore and ſeventeene pounds, of which he made ſive Markes ready money: marry then, Ginger was not much in requeſt; for the old Women were all dead. Then is there heere one Mr. Caper, at the ſuite of Maſter Three-Pile the Mercer, for ſome ſoure ſuites of Peach-colour'd Satten, which now peaches him a beggar. Then have we here, yong Dizy, and yong Mr. Deepe-vow, and Mr. Copperſure, and Maſter Starve-Lackey the Rapier and dagger man, and yong Drop-heire that kild luſty Pudding, and Mr. Fortblight the Tilter, and brave Mr. Shooty the great Traveller, and wilde Halfe-Caunne that ſlabb'd Pots, and I thinke forty more, all great doers in our Trade, and are now for the lords ſake.

Enter Abhorſon.

Abho. Sirah, bring Barnardine hither.

Clo. Maſter Barnardine, you muſt rife and be hang'd,
Maſter Barnardine.

Abb. What hoa Barnardine.

Barnardine within.

Bar. A pox o' your throats: who makes that noyſe there? What are you ?

Clo. Your friends Sir, the Hangman :

You muſt be ſo good Sir to rife, and be put to death.

Bar. Away you Rogue, away, I am ſleepy.

Abb. Tell him he muſt awake,

And that quickly too.

Clo. Pray Maſter Barnardine, awake till you are execu-
ted, and ſleepe afterwards.

Abb. Goc in to him, and fetch him out.

Clo. He is comming Sir, he is comming : I heare his
Straw rusſle.

Enter Barnardine.

Abb. Is the Axe upon the blocke, ſirah?

Clo. Very ready Sir.

Bar. How now Abhorſon ?

What's the newes with you ?

Abb. Truly Sir, I would deſire you to clap into your prayers: for looke you, the Warrant's come.

Bar. You Rogue, I have beene drinking all night,
I am not fitted for't.

Clo. Oh, the better Sir: for he that drinkes all night,
and is hanged betimes in the morning, may ſleepe the
founder all the next day.

Enter Duke.

Abb. Looke you Sir, here comes your ghoftly father:
doe we jef't now thinke you?

Duke. Sir, induced by my charity, and hearing how
hafely you are to depart, I am come to advife you,
Comfort you, and pray with you.

Bar. Friar, not I: I have beene drinking hard all night,
and I will have more time to prepare me, or they ſhall
beat out my brains with billets: I will not conſent to
dye this day, that's certaine.

Duk. Oh fir, you muſt : and therefore I beſeech you
Looke forward on the journey you ſhall goe.

Bar. I ſware I will not dye to day for any mans perſwafion.

Duk. But heare you:

Bar. Not a word: if you have any thing to ſay to me,
come to my Ward: for thence will not I to day.

Exit.

Enter Provoſſt.

Duk. Vnfit to live, or dye: oh gravell heart.

G3

After

78

Measure for Measure.

After him (Fellowes) bring him to the blocke.

Pro. Now Sir, how does you find the prifoner ?

Duk. A creature unpre-par'd, unmeet for death,

And to transport him in the minde he is,

Were damnable.

Pro. Here in the prifon, father,

There died this morning of a cruell Peaver,

One Ragozine, a moltnotorious Pirate,

A man of Claudio's yeares: his beard, and head

Inflt of colour. What if we doe omit

This Reprobate, till he were well enclin'd,

And fatisfe the Deputy with the vifage

Of Ragozine, more like to Claudio?

Duke. Oh, 'tis an accident that heaven provides :

Difpatch it prefently, the houre drawes on

Prefix by Angelo: See this be done,

And ſent according to command, whiles I

Perſwade this rude wretch willingly to dye.

Pro. This ſhall be done (good father) prefently :

But Barnardine muſt dye this afternoone,

And how shall we continue Claudio,

To fave me from the danger that might come,

If he were knowne alive ?

Duk. Let this be done.

Put them in ſecret holds, both Barnardine and Claudio,

Ere twice the Sun hath made his journall greeting

To yond generation, you ſhall find

Your ſaſety maniſeſted.

Pro. I am your free dependant.

Duk. Quicke, diſpatch, and ſend the head to Angelo.

Now will I write Letters to Angelo,

(The Provoff he ſhall beare them) whole contents

Shall wittneſſe to him I am neere at home :

And that by great injunctiſons I am bound

To enter publickely : him ile defire

To meet me at the conſerated Fount,

A League below the City: and from thence,

By cold gradation, and weale-ballanc'd forme.

We ſhall proceed with Angelo.

Enter Provoff.

Pro. Heere is the head, Ile carry it my ſelfe.

Duk. Convenient is it: Make a ſwift returne,

For I would commune with you of ſuch things,

That want no eare but yours,

Pro. Ile make all ſpeed.

Isabell within.

Isa. Peace hoa, be heere.

Duk. The tongue of Isabell. She's come to know,

If yet her brothers pardon be come hither :

But I will keepe her ignorant of her good,

To make her heavenly comforts of defaire,

When it is leaſt expected.

Enter Isabella.

Isa. Hoa, by your leave.

Duk. Good morning to you, faire, and gracious daugh-
ter.

Isa. The better given me be ſo holy a man,

Hath yet the Deputy ſent my brothers pardon?

Duk. He hath releaf'd him, Isabell, from the world,

His head is off, and ſent to Angelo.

Isa. Nay, but it is not ſo.

Duk. It is no other.

Shew your wifedome daughter in your close patience.

Isa. Oh, I will to him, and plucke out his eyes,

Duke. You ſhall not be admitted to his fight.

Isa. Vuhappy Claudio, wretched Isabell.

Injurious world, molten damned Angelo.

Duk. This nor hurts him, nor profits you a jot.

Forbeare it therfore, give your cauſe to heaven,

Marke what I ſay, which you ſhall find

By every fillable a faithfull verity.

The Duke comes home to morrow: nay dry your eyes,

One of our Covent; and his Confessor

Gives me this inſtance: Already he hath carried

Notice to Escalus and Angelo,

Who doe prepare to meete him at the gates, (dome,

There to give up their powre: if you can pace your wif.

In that good path that I would with it goe,

And you ſhall have your boſome on this wretch,

Grace of the Duke, revenges to your heart,

And generall Honor.

Isa. I am directed by you.

Duk. This Letter then to Friar Peter give,

'Tis that he ſent me of the Dukes returne :

Say, by this token, I defire his company

At Mariana's houſe to night. Her cauſe, and yours

Ile perfect him withall, and he ſhall bring you

Before the Duke; and to the head of Angelo

Accuſe him home and home. For my poore ſelfe,

I am combined by a facred Vow,

And ſhall be abſent. Wend you with this Letter :

Command theſe fretting waters from your eyes

With a light heart; truſt not my holy Order

If I pervert your courſe: who's heere ?

Enter Luci.

Luc. Good 'even;

Frier, where's the Proveſt?

Duke. Not within Sir,

Luc. Oh pretty Isabella, I am pale at mine heart, to
fee thine eyes ſo red: thou muſt be pacient; I am faire
to dine and ſup with water and bran: I dare not for my
head fill my belly. One fruitfull Meale would fet mee
too't: but they ſay the Duke will be heere to Morow.
By my troth Isabell I lov'd thy brother, if the old fa-
taſticall Duke of darke corners had beene at home, he had
lived.

Duke. Sir, the Duke is marveilous little beholding to
your reports, but the beſt is, he lives not in them.

Luc. Friar, thou knoweſt not the Duke to well as I
doe: he's a better woodman then thou tak'st him for.

Duke. Well: you'll anſwer this one day. Fare ye well.

Luc. Nay, tarry. Ile goe along with thee.

I can tell thee pretty tales of the Duke.

Duke. You have told me too many of him already fir
if they be true: if not true, none were enough.

Luc. I was once before him for getting a Wench with
child.

Duk. Did you ſuch a thing?

Luc. Yes, marry did I; but I was faire to forſweare it,
They would eſſe have married me to the rotten Medler.

Duke. Sir you company is fairer then honest, reſt you well.

Luc. By my troth Ile goe with thee to the lanes end :
if bandy talke offend you, we'll have very little of: nay
Friar I am a kind of a Burre, I ſhall ſicke.
Exeunt.

## Scæna Quarta.

Enter Angelo, and Escalus.

Eſſe. Every Letter he hath writ, hath diſvouch'd other.

Ang.

Measure for Measure.

79

Ang. In moſt uneven and diſtraetd manner, his actions ſhow much like to madneſſe, pray heaven his wife-dome be not tainted: and why meet him at the gates and deliver our authorities there?

Eſc. I gheſſe not.

Ang. And why ſhould we proclaime it in an houre before his entring, that if any crave redreſſe of injuſtice, they ſhould exhibite their petitions in the ſtreet?

Eſc. He ſhewes his reaſon for that: to have a diſpatch of Complaints, and to deliver us from devices hereafter, which ſhall then have no power to ſtand againſt vs.

Ang. Well: I beſeech you let it be proclaim'd be-
times i' th, morne, Ile call you at your houſe: give notice
to ſuch men of ſort and ſuit as are to meet him.

Eſc. I ſhall fir: fare you well.

Exit.

Ang. Good night.

This deed unſhapes me quite, makes me unpregnant
And dull to all proceedings. A deflowred Maide,
And by an eminent Body, that enſor'd
The Law againſt it ? But that her tender ſhame
Will aot proclaime againſt her Maiden loſſe,
How might the tongue me ? yet reaſon dares her no,
For my Authority beares of a credent bulke,
That no particular ſcandall once can touch.
But it confounds the breather. He ſhould have liv'd,
Save that hisriotous youth with dangerous ſenſe,
Might in the times to come have ta'ne revenge
By ſo receiving a diſhonour'd life,
With ranſome of ſuch ſhame : would yet he had liv'd.
Alack, when once our grace we have forgot,
Nothing goes right, we would, and we would not. Exit.

## Scena Quinta.

Enter Duke and Fryer Peter.

Duk. Theſe Letters at fit time deliver me.
The Provoſt knowes our purpoe and our plot,
The matter being a ſtoſe, keepe your inſtructiſon
And hold you ever to our ſpeciall drift,
Though ſometime you doe blench from this to that
As cauſe doth minifter : Goe call at Flavius's houſe,
And tell him where I ſay: give the like notice
To Valencius, Rowland, and to Craſſus,
And bid them bring the Trumpets to the gate :
But ſend me Flavius firſt.

Peter. It ſhall be ſpeeded well.

Enter Varrius.

Duke. I thanke thee Varrius, thou haſt made good haſt,
Come, we will walke: There's other of our friends
Will greet us heere anon: my gentle Varrius. Exeunt.

## Scena Sexta.

Enter Isabella and Mariana.

Iſab. To ſpeak ſo indirectly I am loath,
I would ſay the truth, but to accuſe him ſo
That is your part, yet I am advis'd to do it,
He ſayes, to vaile full purpofe.

Mar. Be rul'd by him.

Iſa. Befides, he tels me, that if peradventure
He ſpeake againſt me on the adverſe ſide,
I ſhould not thinke it ſtrange, for 'tis a Phyſicke
That's bitter, to ſweet end.

Enter Peter.

Mar. I would Fryer Peter.—

Iſab. Oh peace, the Fryer is come.
Peter. Come I have found you out a ſtand moſt fit,
Where you may have ſuch vantage on the Duke
He ſhall not paſſe you :

Twice have the Trumpets founded.
The generous and graveſt Citizens
Have hent the gates, and very neere upon
The Duke is entring:
Therefore hence away.

Exeunt.

## Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.

Enter Duke, Varrius, Lords, Angelo, Eſtalus, Lucie,
Citizens at ſeverall doores.

Duke. My very worthy Cofen, fairely met,
Our old and faithfull friend, we are glad to ſee you.

Ang. Eſc. Happy returne be to your Royall Grace.

Duke. Many and hearty thankings be to you both :
We have made enquiry of you, and we heare
Such goodneſſe of your Inſtice, that our ſoule
Cannot but yeeld you forth to publike thankses
For eſ running more requitall.

Ang. You make my bonds ſill greater.

Du. Oh your defert ſpeakes loud, and I ſhould wrong
To locke it in the wards of covert boſome
When it deſerves with Characters of Braſſe
A forſted reſidence: againſt the tooth of time,
And razure of obliuion: Give we your hand
And let the ſubject fee, to make them know
That outward curteſies would ſaine proclaime
Favours that keepe within: Come Eſcalum,
You muſt walke by us on our other hand :
And good ſupporters are you.

Enter Peter and Isabella.

Peter. Now is your time
Speake loud, and kneele before him.

Iſab. Inſtice, O Royall Duke, vaile your regard
Vpon a wrong'd (I would ſaine have faid a Maid)
Oh worthy Prince diſhonour not your eye
By throwing it on any other object,
Till you have heard me, in my true complaint,
And given me Inſtice, Inſtice, Inſtice, Inſtice.

Duke. Relate your wrongs:
In what, by whom ? be briefe:
Here is Lord Angelo ſhall give you Inſtice,
Reveale your ſelfe to him.

Iſab. Oh worthy Duke,
You bid me ſeeke redemption of the Divell,
Heare me your ſelſe: for that which I muſt ſpeake
Muſte either puniſh me, not being beleev'd,
Or wring redreſſe from you :
Heare me: oh heare me, heere.

Ang. My Lord, her wits, I ſeare me, are not firme:
She hath been a ſuitor to me, for her brother
Cut off by courfe of Inſtice.

Iſab. By courſe of Inſtice!

Ang. And she will ſpeake moſt bitterly.

Iſab. Moſt.

["82", "Measure for Measure.", "She should fooner confesse, perchance publike lyf'll bee\nafham'd.", "Enter Duke, Provoſt, Ifabella.", "Eſe. I will goe darkeiy to worke with her.", "Luc. That's the way : for women are light at mid-\nnight.", "Eſe. Come on Miftris, here's a Gentlewoman Denies\nal that you have faid.", "Luc. My Lord, here comes the Raſcall I ſpoke of;\nHere with the Provoſt.", "Eſe. In very good time : ſpeake not you to him, till we\ncall upon you.", "Luc. Mums.", "Eſe. Come fir, did you ſet theſe women on to ſlander\nLord ANDelo ? they have confed they did.", "Duke. Tis falſe.", "Eſe. How ? know you where you are ?", "Duke. Reſpect to your great place; and let the Divell\nbe fometime honou'd, for his burning throne.\nWhere is the Duke ? 'tis he should heare me ſpeake.", "Eſe. The Duke's in us : and we will heare you, ſpeake,\nLooke you ſpeake juſtly.", "Duke. Boldly at leaſt. But oh poore foules,", "Come you to feeke the Lambe here of the Fox ?", "Good night to your redrefle: is the Duke gone ?", "Then is your cause gone too : The Duke's juſt,", "Thus to retort your manifeſt appeale,", "And put your tryall in the villaines mouth,", "Which here you come to accufe.", "Luc. This is the Raſca 1: this is he I ſpoke of.", "Eſe. Why thou unreverend and unhallowed Fryers:", "Is not enough thou haſt ſuborn'd theſe women,", "I accufe this worthy man ? but in fowle mouth,", "And in the winſtrefle of his proper care,", "To call him villaine; and then toglance from him,", "To th' Duke himſeſe, to taxe him with Injuſtice ?", "Take him hence; to th'acke with him: we'll towze you", "Ioynt by joynt, but we will know his purpofe:", "What? juſtly?", "Duke. Be not ſo hot : the Duke dare", "No more ittretch this finger of mine, then he", "Dare racke his owne : his ſubje: am I not,", "Nor here Provincial : My buſinſe in this State", "Made me a looker on here in ſieona,", "Where I have ſeene corruption boyle and bubble,", "Till it ore-ronne the Stew : Lawes for all faults,", "But faults ſo countenanc'd, that the ſtrong Statutes", "Stand like the forſeits in a Barbers ſhop,", "As much in mocke, as marke.", "Eſe. Slander to th' State :", "Away with him to prifon.", "Ang. What can you vouch againſt him Signior Lucio ?", "Is this the man that you did tell us of ?", "Luc. 'Tis he, my Lord : come hither goodman bald-\npate, doe you know me ?", "Duke. I remember you fir by the found of your voyce,\nI met you at the prifon in the abſence of the Duke.", "Luc. Oh, did you ſo ? and doe you remember what you\nfaid of the Duke?", "Duke. Moſt notedly fir.", "Luc. Doe you ſo fir : And was the Duke a fleſh-mon-\nger, a foole, and a coward, as you then reported him to\nbe ?", "Duke. You muſt (fir) change perſons with me, ere you\nmake that my report: you indeed ſpoke ſo of him, and", "much more, much worſe.", "Luc. Oh thou damnable fellow : did not I plucke thee\nby the note, for thy ſpeeches ?", "Duke. I proteſt, I love the Duke as I love my ſelfe.", "Ang. Harke how the villaine would cieol now, after\nhis treſaonable abufes.", "Eſe. Such a fellow is not to be talk'd withall : Away\nwith him to prifon : Where is the Provoſt ? away with\nhim to prifon : lay bolts enough upon him : let him ſpeake\nno more : away with thofe Giglets too, and with the o-\nther confederate companion.", "Duke. Stay fir, stay a while.", "Ang. What, reſifts he ? helpe him Lucio.", "Luc. Come fir, come fir, come fir : foh fir, why you\nbaldpated lying Raſcall : you muſt be hooded muſt you :\nſhow your knaves viſage with a poxe to you : ſhow your\nſleepc-biting ſace, and bee hang'd an houre : will' not\noff?", "Duke. Thou art the firſt knave that ere mad'it a Duke,\nBirſt Provoſt, let me bayle theſe gentle three :", "Sneake not away fir, for the Fryer and you,", "Muſt have a word anon : lay hold on him.", "Duke. This may prove worſe then hanging.", "Duke. What you have ſpoke, I pardon : fit you downe,\nWe'll borrow place of him; Sir, by your leave :", "Ha'ft thou or word or wit, or impudence,", "That yet can doe thee office ? If thou haſt,", "Rely upon it, till my tale be heard,", "And hold no longer out.", "Ang. Oh my dread Lord,", "I should be guiltier then my guiltinſe,", "To thinke I can be undiſcernable,", "When I perceive your Grace, like power Divine,", "Hath look'd upon my paffes. Then good Prince,", "No longer Seſſion hold upon my ſhame,", "But let my triall be mine owne Conſeſſion :", "Immediate ſentence then, and ſequent death,", "Is all the grace I beg.", "Duke. Come hither Mariana,", "Say: was't thou ever contracted to this woman?", "Ang. I was my Lord.", "Duke. Go take her hence, and marry her instantly.\nDoe you the office (Fryer) which consummate,", "Returne him here againe : goe with him Provoſt.", "Eſe. My Lord I am more amaz'd at his diſhonour,", "Then at the strangenſe of it.", "Duke. Come hither Ifabel,", "Your Fryer isnow your Prince : As I was then\nAdvertiſing, and holy to your buſinſe,\n(Not changing heart with habit) I am ſtill,\nAtturnied at your ſervice.", "Ifab. Oh give me pardon", "That I, your vaſtalle, have imploy'd and pain'd,\nYour unknowne Soveraignety.", "Duke. You are pardon'd Ifabel :", "And now deare Maide, be you as free to us,", "Your brothers death, I know, ſits at your heart :", "And you may marveile, why I obſcur'd my ſelfe,", "Labouring to ſave his life; and would not rather", "Make rafh remonſtrance of my hidden power,", "Then let him ſo be loft : Oh moſt kinde Maide,", "It was the ſwift celérity of his death,", "Which I did thinke with flowe r foote came on,", "That brain'd my purpose : but peace be with him,", "That life is better life paſt fearing death,", "Then that which lives to ſcare : make it your comfort,", "So", "So ha'", "D", "Wha'", "For", "Bein'", "Off", "The", "The", "Mo'", "An", "Ha'", "Lik", "The", "Wh", {"bbox": [1063, 427, 1092, 449], "category": "Text

Meaſure for Meaſure.

So happy is your Brother.

Enter Angelo, Maria, Peter, Provoff.

Ifa. I doe my Lord.

Duke. For this new-married man, approaching here,
Whole ſalt imagination yet hath wrong'd
Your well ſended honour; you muſt pardon

For Mariana's ſake: But as he adjudg'd your Brother,
Being criminal, in double violation
Of ſacred chaſtitie, and of promife-breach,
Thereon dependant for your brothers life,
The very mercy of the Law cryes out
Moft audible, even from his proper tongue,
An Angelo for Claudio, death for death:

Hafe ſtill payes hafe, and leaſure anſweres leaſure;
Like doth quit like, and Meaſure ſtill for Meaſure:
Then Angelo thy fault's thus manifested:
Which though thou wouldſt deny, denyes thee vantage.
We doe condemne thee to the very Blocke
Where Claudio ſloop'd to death, and with like hafe.
Away with him.

Mar. Oh my moſt gracious Lord,
I hope you will not mocke me with a husband?

Duke. It is your husband moſt'd you with a husband,
Conſenting to the ſafe-guard of your honour,
I thought your marriage fit; eſſe Imputation,
For that he knew you, might reproch your life.
And choake your good to come: for his poſſeffions,
Although by conſitation they are ours;
We doe enſtate, and widdow you withall,
To buy you a better husband.

Mar. Oh my deere Lord,

I crave no other, nor no better man.

Duke. Never crave him, we are definitive.

Mar. Gentle my Liege.

Duke. You doe but loſe your labour.

Away with him to death: Now fir, to you.

Mar. Oh my good Lord, Iweet Ifabel, take my part,
Lend me your knees, and all my life to come,
Ile lend you all my life to doe you ſervice.

Duke. A gainſt all ſenſe you doe importune her,
Should ſhe kneele downe, in mercy of this fact,
Her brothers ghoff his paved bed would breake,
And take her hence in horror.

Mar. Ifabel:

Sweet Ifabel, doe yet but kneele by me,
Hold up your hands, ſay nothing: I'le ſpeake all.
They ſay beſt men are moulded out of faults,
And for the moſt, become much more the better.
For being a little bad: So may my husband.
Oh Ifabel: will you not lend a knee?

Duke. He dyes for Claudio's death.

Ifab. Moſt bounteous Sir.

Looke, if it plearſe you, on this man condemn'd,
As if my brother liv'd: I partly thinke,
A due ſincerity governed his deeds,
Till he did looke on me: Since it is ſo,
Let him not dye: my brother had but Inſtice,
In that he did the thing for which he di'd.
For Angelo, his act did not ore-take his bad intent,
And muſt be buried but as an intent
That perſi'd by the way: thoughts are no ſubjeſts
Intents, but meereely thoughts.

Mar. Meerely my Lord.

Duke. Your ſuite's unprofitable: ſland up I ſay:
I have bethought me of another fault.

Provoff, how came it Claudio was beheaded

At an unuſuall houre ?

Pro. It was commanded ſo.

Duke. Had you a ſpeciall warrant for the deed ?

Pro. No my good Lord, it was by private meſlage.

Duke. For which I doe diſcharge you of your office,
Give up your keyes.

Pro. Pardon me, Noble Lord.

I thought it was a fault, but knew it not.

Yet did repent me after more advice,

For ſeſtimony whereof, one in the prifon

That ſhould by private order eſſe have dy'd,

I have reſerv'd alive.

Duke. What's he ?

Pro. His name is Barnardine.

Duke. I wouldſt thou hadſt done ſo by Claudio:
Goe fetch him hither, let me looke upon him.

E/c. I am forry, one ſo learned, and ſo wife
As you, Lord Angelo, have ſtill appear'd;
Should flip ſo groſly, both in the heat of blood
And lacke of temper'd judgement afterward.

Ang. I am forry, that ſuch forrow I procure,
And to deepe flicks it ia my penitent heart,
That I crave death more willingly then mercy,
'Tis my deferv'ing, and I doe intreat it.

Enter Barnardine and Provoff, Claudio, Iulietta.

Duke. Which is that Barnardine ?

Pro. This my Lord.

Duke. There was a Fryer told me of this man.
Sirrha, thou art ſaid to have a ſubborne ſoule
That apprehends no further then this world,
And ſequar'ſt thy life according: Thou'rt condemn'd,
But for thofe earthly faults, I quit them all,

I pray thee take this mercy to provide

For better times to come: Fryer, advife him,

I leave him to your hand. What muffled fellow's that?

Pro. This is another prifoner that I fav'd,
Who ſhould have dy'd when Claudio loſt his head,
As like almoſt to Claudio, as him ſelfe.

Duke. If he be like your brother, for his ſake
Is he pardon'd, and for your lovely ſake
Give me your hand, and ſay you will be mine,
He is my brother too: But ſitter time for that
By this Lord Angelo perceives hee's ſafe,
Me thinkes I fee a quickening in his eye :
Well Angelo, your evill quits you well.
Looke that you love your wife: her worth, worth yours.
I finde an apt remiſſion in my ſelfe :
And yet here's one in place I cannot pardon,
You ſirrha, that knew me for a foole; a Coward,
One all of Luxurie, an Aſſe, a mad man :
Wherein have I ſo deferv'd of you
That you extoll me thus?

Luc. 'Faith my Lord, I ſpoke it but according to the
tricke: if you will hang me for it, you may: but I had ra-
ther it would plearſe you, I might be whipt.

Duke. Whipt firſt fir, and hang'd after.
Proclaime it Provoff round about the City;
If any woman wrong'd by this lew'd fellow
(As I have heard him ſweare him ſelfe there's one
Whom he begot with childe) let her appeare,
And he ſhall marry her: the nuptiall ſinſh'd,
Let him be whip'd and hang'd.

Luc. I beſeech your Highneſſe doe not marry mee to a
Whore: your Highneſſe ſaid even now, I made you a
Duke, good my Lord doe not recompence me, in making
me a Cuckold.

Duke. Vpon

84.

Measure for Measure.

Duke. Upon mine honor thou shalt marry her,
Thy flanders I forgive, and therewithall
Remit thy other forfeits: take him to prifon,
And fee our pleasure herein executed.
Luc. Marrying a punke my lord, is preffing to death,
Whipping and hanging.
Duk. Slandering a Prince deferves it.
She Claudio that you wrong'd, looke you restore.
Ioy to you Mariana, love her Angelo:
I have confes'd her, and I know her vertue.
Thankes good friend, Escalus, for thy much goodnesse,

There's more behind that is more gratulate,
Thanks Frovesof for thy care, and fecrecy,
We shall imploy thee in a worthier place.
Forgive him Angelo, that brought you home
The head of Ragozino for Claudio's,
Th'offence pardons it selfe. Deere Isabell,
I have a motion much imports your good,
Where to if you'll a willing care incline;
What's mine is yours, and what is yours is mine.
So bring us to our Pallace, where wee'll show
What's yet behind, that's meete you all should know.

The Scene Vienna,

Names of all the Actors.

Vincentio: the Duke.
Angelo, the Deputy.
Escalus, an ancient lord.
Claudio, a young Gentleman.
Lucio, a fantastique.
2. Other like Gentlemen.
Provo ft.

Thomas. 2 Friers.
Peter.
Elbow, a simple Conftable.
Froth, a foolish Gentleman.
Clowne.
Abhorzon, an Executiorer.
Barnardine, a diffolute prisoner.
Isabella, a fholder to Claudio.
Mariana, betrothed to Angelo.
Juliet, beloved of Claudio.
Francisca, a Nun.
Misfris Over-don, a Bawd.

FINIS.

Enter to
Iay

The en
Sprung
To me
Who
Have for
Exclud
For fin
Twixt
It hath
Both b
T'adm
Nay m
Be feen
Againe
Come
His go
Vnleff
To quit
Thy fub
Cannot
Thereof
Mer.
My wo
Duk
Why th
And for
Mer.
Then I
Yet that
Was w
Ile utt
In Syra
Vnto a
And by
With h
By prof
To Epid
And he
Drew n
From w
Before

The Comedy of Errors.

86

For we may pitty, though not pardon thee.

*Merch.* Oh had the goods done so, I had not now
Worthily tearm'd them mercileffe to us :
For ere the ships could meet by twice five leagues,
We were encountered by a mighty rocke,
Which being violently borne up upon,
Our helpefull ship was splitted in the midft ;

So that in this unjust divorce of us,
Fortune had left to both of us alike,

What to delight in, what to forrow for,

Her part, poor foule, seeming as burdened,
With leffer weight, but not with leffer woe,

Was carried with more speed before the winde,
And in our fight they three were taken up

By Fishermen of *Corinth*, as we thought.

At length another ship had feiz'd on us,

And knowing whom it was their hap to fave,

Gave helpefull welcome to their ship-wrackt guefts,

And would have reft the Fishers of their prey,
Had not their barke beene very flow of faile ;

And therefore homeward did they bend their courfe.

Thus have you heard me fever'd from my bliffe,

That by misfortunes was my life prolong'd,
To tell fad ftories of my owne mifhaps.

*Duke.* And for the fakes of them thou forroweft for,
Doe me the favour to dilate at full,

What hath befalne of them and thee till now.

*Merch.* My yongeft boy, and yet my eldeft care,
Ateightene yeares became inquifitive
After his brother ; and importun'd me
That his attendant, (for his cafe was like,
Reft of his brother, but retain'd his name,)
Might beare him company in the queft of him :
Whom whilft I laboured of a love to fee,
I hazarded the loffe of whom I lov'd.

Five Sommers have I spent in fartheft Greece,
Roming cleane through the bounds of *Asia*,
And coafting homeward, came to *Ephefus*:

*Ephefus.* Hopeleſſe to finde, yet loath to leave unfought

Or that, or any place that harbours men :
But heere muſt end the ſtory of my life,

And happy were I in my timely death,
Could all my travells warrant me they live.

*Duk.* Hapleſſe *Egeon* whom the fates have market
To beare th' extremite of dire mifhap:
Now truſt me, were it not againſt our Lawes,
Againſt my Crowne, my oath, my dignity,
Which Princes would, they may not diſanull,
My foule ſhould ſue as advocate for thee :
But though thou art adjudged to the death,
And paffed ſentence may not be recal'd

*Iaylor.* I will my Lord.

*Merch.* Hopeleſſe and helpeleſſe doth *Egeon* wend,
But to procreaſtinate his liveleſſe end.

*Enter Antipholis, Erotes, a Merchant, and Dromio.*

*Mer.* Therefore give out you are of *Epidamium*,
Left that your goods too foone be confiſcate :

*This very day a *Syrach* an Merchant*
Is apprehended for arrivall here,
And not being able to buy out his life,
According to the ſtature of the towne,
Dies ere the weary Sunne fet in the Weſt :
There is your monie that I had to keepe.

*Ant.* Goe beare it to the Centaure, where we hoſt,
And ſtay there *Dromio*, tell I come to thee ;
Till that I lew view the manners of the towne,
Within this houre it will be dinner time:
Perufe the traders, gaze upon the buildings,
And then returne and fleepe within mine Inne,
For with long travaile I am ſtiffe and wearie.
Get thee away.

*Dro.* Many a man would take you at your word,
And goe indeede, having ſo good a meane.
*Exit Dromio.*

*E. Mer.* I am invited fir to certaine Merchants,
Of whom I hope to make much benefit:
I crave your pardon, ſoone at five a clocke,
Please you, Ile meete with you upon the Mart,
And afterward comfort you till bed time :
My prefent buſineſſe calls me from you now.

*Ant.* Farewell till then : I will goe loofe my life,
And wander up and downe to view the Citie.

*E. Mer.* Sir I commend you to your owne content.
*Exeunt.*

*Ant.* He that commends me to my owne content,
Commends me to the thing I cannot get :
I to the world am like a drop of water,
That in the Ocean feekes another drop,
Who falling there to finde his fellow forth,
(Vnſene, inquifitive) confounds himſelfe,
So I, to find a Mother and a Brother,
In queſt of him (unhappie) loofe my ſelſe.

*Enter Dromio of Ephefus.*

*E. Dro.* Return'd ſo foone, rather approach too late:
The Capon burnes, the Pig faſ from the ſpit;
The clocke hath ſtrucken twelue upon the bell :
My Miftris made it one upon my cheeke :
She is ſo hot becauſe the meate is colde :
The meate is cold becauſe you come not home :
You come not home, becauſe you have no ſtomacke:
You have no ſtomacke, having broke your ſaſt :
But we that know what 'tis to ſaſt and pray,
Are penitent for your default to day.

*Ant.* Stop in your winde fir, tell me this I pray,
Where have you left the mony that I gave you?

*E. Dro.* Oh, ſiſe pence that I had a wenſday ſaſt,
To pay the Sadler for my Miftris crupper :
The Sadler had it Sir, I kept it not.

*Ant.* I am not in a ſportive humor now :
Tell me, and dally not, where is the monie?
We being ſtrangers here, how dar'it thou truſt
So great a charge from thine owne cultodie.

*E. Dro.* I pray you jeſt fir as you fit at dinner :
I from my Miftris come to you in poſt :
If I returne I ſhall be poſt indeede.

For

The Comedy of Errors.

87

For he willfcoure your fault upon my pate :

Methinks your maw, like mine, should be you cooke,
And strike you home without a meffenger.

Ant. Come Dromio, come, these jeffes are out of season.
Refere them till a merrier houre then this :
Where is the gold I gave in charge to thee ?

E. Dro. To me fir? why you gave no gold to me?

Ant. Come on fir knave, have done your foolifinnes,
And tell me how thou haſt diſpos'd thy charge.
E: Dro. My charge was but to fetch you from the Mart
Hometo your houſe, (the Phoenix: fir) to dinner;
My Miftris and her filter ſtaies for you.

Ant. Now as I am a Christian anſwer me,
In what faſe place you have beſtow'd my monie :
Or I ſhall breake that merrie ſonce of yours
That ſtands on tricks, when I am undiſpos'd :
Where is the thouſand Markes thou haſt of me?

E. Dro. I have ſome markes of yours upon my pate:
Some of my Miftris markes upon my ſhoulders :
But not a thouſand markes betweene you both.
If I ſhould pay your worſhip thate againe,
Perchance you will not beare them patiently.

Ant. Thy Miftris markes? what miſtris ſlave haſt thou?
E. Dro. Your worſhips wife, my Miftris at the Phoenix;
She that doth ſaſt till you come home to dinner :
And prays that you will hie you home to dinnner.

Ant. What wilt thou ſlout me thus unto my ſace
Being forſbid? There take you that fir knave.

E. Dro. What meane you fir, for God ſake hold your
Nay, and you will not fir, Ile take my heeles. (hands:
Exit Dromio Ep.

Ant. Upon my life by ſome device or other,
The villaine is ore-wrought of all my mony.
They ſay this towne is full of cofenage :

As nimble Iuglers that deceive the eye :
Darke-working Sorcerers that change the minde :
Soule-killing Witches, that deforme the body :
Difguſed Cheaters, prating Mountebanks;
And many ſuch like liberies of finne :
If it prove ſo, I will be gone the sooner :
Ile to the Centaure to goe ſeeke this ſlave,
I greatly feare my monie is not ſafe.

Exit.

## Atus Secundus

Enter Adriana, wife to Antipholis Sereptus, with
Luciana her Sifter.

Adr. Neither my husband nor the ſlave return'd,
That in ſuch haſt I ſent to ſeeke his Maſter?
Sure Luciana it is two a clocke.

Luc. Perhaps ſome Merchants hath invited him,
And from the Mart he's ſomewhere gone to dinner :
Good Sifter Let us dine, and never fret ;

A man is Maſter of his libertie ;

Time is their Maſter, and when they ſee time,
They'll goe or come; if ſo, be patient Sifter.

Adr. Why should their libertie then ours be more?
Luc. Because their buſineſſe ſtill lyes out adore.

Adr. Looke when I ſerve him ſo, he takes it ill.

Luc. Oh, know he is the bridle of your will.

Adr. There's none but affes will be bridled ſo.

Luc. Why, headſtrong liberty is laſt with woe :
There's nothing ſituate under heavens eye,
But hath his bound in earth, in ſea, in skie,
The beaſts, the ſiſhes, and the winged ſowles
Are their maſes ſubjects, and at their controules :
Man more divine, the Maſter of all theſe,

Lord of the wide world, and wide watry ſeaſ,
Indued with intelleſtional ſence and ſonle,
Of more preheminence then ſiſh and ſowle.
Are maſters to their females, and their Lords :

Then let your will attend on their accords.

Adri. This ſervitude makes you to keepe unwed.

Luci. Not this, but troubles of the marriage bed.

Adr. But were you wedded, you wold bear ſome ſway
Luc. Ere I earne love, Ile præſe life to obey.

Adr. How if your husband ſtart ſome other where?

Luc. Till he come home againe, I would forbeare.

Adr. Patience unmov'd, no marvel though ſhe paſſe,
They can be meeke, that have no other cauſe :

A wretched ſoule bruis'd with adverſitie,
We bid be quiet when we heare it crie.

But were we burdneſd with like waight of paine,
As much, or more, we should our ſelves complaine :

So thou that haſt no unkinde mate to greeve thee,
With urging helpeleſſe patience would releeve me ;
But if thou live to fee like right bereft,

This ſoole-beg'd patience in thee will be left.

Luci. Well, I will marry one day but to trie :
Here comes your man, now is your husband nie,

Enter Dromio Eph.

Adr. Say, is your tardie maſter now at hand?

E. Dro. Nay, hee's at two hands with mee, and that my
two eares can witneſſe.

Adr. Say, didst thou ſpeake with him ? knowſt thou
his minde?

E. Dro. I, he told his minde upon mine care,

Behrew his hand, I ſcaree could underſtand it.

Luc. Spake he so doubtfully, thou couldſt not feele
his meaning.

E. Dro. Nay, hee ſtrooke ſo plainely, I could too well
feele his blowes; and withall ſo doubtfully, that I could
ſcaree underſtand them.

Adri. But ſay, I preſthee, is he comming home ?
It ſeemes he hath great care to pleafe his wife.

E. Dro. Why Miftreſſe, ſure my Maſter is horne mad.

Adri. Horne mad, thou villaine ?

E. Dro. I meane not Cuckold-mad,

But ſure he is ſtarke mad:

When I deſir'd him to come home to dinner,
He ask'd me for a 1000. markes in gold:

'Tis dinner time quoth I: my gold, quoth he :

Your meat doth burne, quoth I: my gold quoth he :
Will you come, quoth I; my gold quoth he;

Where is the thouſand markes I gave thee villaine?

The Pigge quoth I, is burn'd : my gold quoth he :

My miſtreſſe, fir, quoth I: hang up thy miſtreſſe :

I know not thy miſtreſſe, out on my miſtreſſe.

Luc. Quoth who?

E. Dr. Quoth my Maſter, I know quoth he, no houſe
no wife, no miſtreſſe: so that my arrant due unto my
tongue, I thanke him, I bare home upon thy ſhoulders:
for in concluſio, he did beate me there,

Adr. Go backe againe thou ſlave, & fetch him home.

E. Dro. Go backe againe, and be new beaten home ?

For God's ſake fend ſome other meſſenger.

H. 2

Adri. Backe

The Comedy of Errors.

88

Adi. Backe flave, or I will breake thy pate acrofle.
Dro. And he will bleffe that crofle with other beating:
Betweene you, I shall have a holy head.

Adi. Hence prating pefant, fetch thy mafter home.

Dro. Am I to round with you, as you with me,
That like a foot-ball you doe fpurne me thus:
You fpurne me hence, and he will fpurne me hither,
If I laft in this ſervice, you muſt cafe me in leather. Exit.

Luci. Fie how impatience lowre in your face.

Adi. His company muſt do his minjions grace,
Whilft I at home ſtarve for a merrie looke :

Hath homely age th'alluring beauty tooke
From my poore checke? then he hath waſted it.

Are my diſcourſes dull? Barren my wit,
If voluble and ſharpe diſconſe be mar'd,

Vnkindneſſe blots it more then marble hard.

Doe their gay veſtments his affections baite ?

That's not my fault, he's mafter of my ſtate.

What ruins are in me that can be found,

By him not ruin'd? Then is he the ground

Of my deſtatures. My decayed ſaire,

A ſunne ſooke of his, would ſoone repaires

But, (too unruly Deere,) he breakes the pale,

And leedes from home; poore I am but his ſtate.

Luci. Seife-harming Iealouſe; ſie beat it hence.

Ad. Unfeeling foois can with ſuch wrongs diſpence:

I know his eye doth homage other-where,

Or eſſe, what lets it but he would be here ?

Sifter, you know he promis'd me a chaine,
Would that alone, alone he would detaine,

So he would keepe faire quarter with his bed :
I fee the Jewell beſt enamaled

Will Iſe his beaute : yet the gold bides full

That others touch, and often touching will:

Since that my beaute cannot pafe his eie,

Ile wepe (what's left ) away and weeping die.

Luc. How manie fond fooles ſerve mad Iealouſe?

Exequens.

Enter Antipolis Erotes.

Ant. The gold I gave to Dromio is laid up
Safe at the Centaur, and the heedfull flave
Is wandred forth in care to feeke me out
By computation and mine hoſts report.

I could not ſpeake with Dromio, ſince at firſt
I ſent him from the Mart: fee here he comes.

Enter Dromio Siracusan.

How now fir, is your merrie humor alter'd ?

As you love ſtrokes, ſo jeſt with me againe:
You know no Centaur? you receiv'd no gold?

Your miſtis ſent to have me home to dinner?

My houſe was at the Phoenix? Waſt thou mad,

That thus ſo madlie thou didſt anſwere me ?

S. Dro. What anſwer fir? when ſpake I ſuch a word?

E. Ant. Even now, even here, not haſe an houre ſince.

S. Dro. I did not fee you ſince you ſent me hence
Home to the Centaur with the gold you gave me ?

Ant. Villaine, thou didſt denie the golds receit,

And toldit me of a Miſtris, and a dinner.

For which I hope thou ſeſt I was diſpleas'd.

S. Dro. I am glad to fee you in this merrie veine,

What means this jeſt, I pray you Matter tell me ?

Ant. Yea, doſt thou jeere and flowt me in the teeth?

Thinkſt you I jeſt? hold, take thou that, and that. Beats Dro.

S. Dr. Hold fir, for God's fake, now your jeſt is earneſt,

Upon what bargaine doe you give it me?

Antisp. Because that I familiarie sometimes

Doe uſe you for my foole, and chat with you,

Your ſawcineſſe will jeſt upon my love,

And make a Common of my ſerious houres.

When the Sunne ſhines, let ſoſilſh gnats make ſport,

But creepe in crannies, when he hides his beames :

If you will jeſt with me, know my aſpeſt,

And fashion your decoarion to my lookes,

Or I will beat this method in your ſonce.

S. Dro. Socone call you it? fo you would leave batte-
ring, I had rather have it a head, and you uſe theſe blows
long, I muſt get a ſonce for my head, and inſonce it
too, or eſe I ſhall ſeek my wit in my ſhoulders, but I pray
fir, why am I beaten ?

Ant. Doſt thou not know?

S. Dro. Nothing fir, but that I am beaten.

Ant. Shall I tell you why?

S. Dro. I fir, and wherefore; for they ſay, every why
hath a wherefore.

Ant. Why firſt for flouting me, and then wherefore,
for urging it the ſecond time to me.

S. Dro. Was there ever any man thus beaten out of
feason, when in the why and the wherefore, is neither
time nor reaſon. Well fir, I thank you.

Ant. Thanke me fir, for what?

S. Dro. Marry fir, for this ſomething that you gave me
for nothing.

Ant. Ile make you amends next, to give you nothing
for ſomething. But ſay fir, is it dinner time?

S. Dro. No fir, I thinke the meat wants that I have.

Ant. In good time fir, what's that?

S. Dro. Baſting.

Ant. Well fir, then'twill be drie.

S. Dro. If it be fir, I pray you eate not of it.

Ant. Your reaſon?

S. Dro. Left it make you chollericke, and purchase me
another drie baſting.

Ant. Well fir, Iearne to jeſt in good time, there's a
time for all things.

S. Dro. I durſt have denied that before you were ſo
chollericke.

Ant. By what rule fir?

S. Dro. Marry fir, by a rule as plaine as the plaine bald
pate of Father time himselfe.

Ant. Let's heare it.

S. Dro. There's no time for a man to recover his haire
that growes bald by nature.

Ant. May he not doe it by fine and recoverie?

S. Dro. Yes, to pay a fine for a perewig, and recover
the loft haire of another man.

Ant. Why, is Time ſuch a niggard of haire, being (as
it is) ſo plentifull an excrement?

S. Dro. Because it is a bleſſing that hee beſtowes on
beaſts, and what he hath ſcanted them in haire, he hath
given them in wit.

Ant. Why, but there's many a man hath more haire
than wit.

S. Dro. Not a man of thate but he hath the wit to loſe
his haire.

Ant. Why thou didſt conclude haire men plaine de-
lers without wit.

S. Dro. The plainer dealer, the ſooner loſt; yet he loo-
ſeth it in a kinde of jollitie.

Ant. For what reaſon?

S. Dro. For two, and found ones too.

Ant. Nay.

The Comedy of Errors

89

An. Nay not found ones I pray you.

S. Dro. Sure ones then.

An. Nay, not sure in a thing falſing.

S. Dro. Certaine ones then.

An. Name them.

S. Dro. The one to fave the mony that he ſpends in
trying : the other, that at dinner they ſhould not drop in
his porrage.

An. You would all this time have prov'd, there is no
time for all things.

S. Dro. Marry and did ſir : namely, no time to recov-
er haire loft by Nature.

An. But your reaſon was not ſubſtantiall, why there
is no time to recover.

S. Dro. Thus I mend it : Time himſelfe is bald, and
therefore to the worlds end, will have bald followers.

An. I knew 'twould bee a bald conclusion : but ſoſt,
who waſts us yonder?

Enter Adriana and Luciana.

Adri. I, I, Antipholia, looke ſtrange and frowne,
Some other Miftrefſe hath ſome ſweet aſpects :
I am not Adriana, nor thy wife.

The time was once, when thou un-urg'd wouldſt vow,
That never words were muſicke to thine eare,
That never object pleafing in thine eye,
That never touch well welcome to thy hand;
That never meat ſweet-favour'd in thy taſte;
Vnleſſe I ſpake, or look'd, or touch'd or carv'd to thee.

How comes it now, (my Husband) oh how comes it,
That thou art then eſtranged from thy ſelfe?

Thy ſelfe I call it, being ſtrange to me :

That undivisible Incorporate

Am better than thy deere ſelſes better part.

Ah do not teare away thy ſelfe from me;

For know my love: as caſe maſſt thou fall
A drop of water in the breaking gulſe,

And take unmingled thence that drop againe

Without addition or diminifhing,
As take from me thy ſelfe, and not me too.

How dearely would it touch thee to the quicke,

Shouldſt thou heare I were licentious ?
And that this body confecrate to thee,

By Ruſſian Luſt, thou should be contaminate ?

Wouldſt thou not ſpit at me, and ſpurne at me,

And hurle the name of husband in my face,

And teare thetain'd skin of my Harlot brow,

And from my ſalſe hand cut the wedding ring,

And breake it with a deepe- divorcing vow ?

I know thou canſt, and therefore fee thou do it.

I am poſſed with an adulterate blot,

My blond is mingled with the crime of luſt :

For if we two be one, and thou play ſalſe,

I doe digest the poyſon of my ſleſh,

Being frumpeted by thy contagion.

Keepe then faire league and truce with thy true bed,
I live diſtain'd, thou undiſhonoured.

Antip. Plead you to me faire dame? I know you not:
In Eſheſus I am but two hours old,

As ſtrange unto your towne, as to your taſke,

Who every word by all my wit being ſcan'd,

Wants wit in all, one word to underſtand.

Luci. Fie brother, how the world is chang'd with you:
When were you went to uſe my ſiſter thus?

She ſent for you by Dromio home, to dinner,

Ant. By Dromio?

Drom. By me.

Adr. By thee, and thus thou didſt returne from him.
That he did buſſet thee, and in his blowes,

Denied my houſe for his, me for his wife.

Ant. Did you converſie ſir with this gentlewoman:
What is the courſe and drift of your compaſt ?

S. Dro. I ſir? I never ſaw her till this time.

Ant. Villaine thou lieſt, for even her very words,
Didſt thou deliver to me on the Mart.

S. Dro. I never ſpake with her in all my life.

Ant. How can ſhe thus then call us by our names ?
Vnleſſe it be by inſpiration.

Adr. How ill agrees it with you gravitie,
To counterfeit thus groſely with your ſlave,

Abetting him to thwart me in my moode;

Be it my wrong, you are from me exempt,

But wrong not that wrong with a more contempt.

Come I will faſten on this ſleeve of thine :

Thou art an Elme my husband, I a Vine :

Whofe weakneſſe married to thy ſtranger ſtate,

Makes me with thy ſtrength to communicate :

If ought poſſeſſe thee from me, it is droſſe,

Vſurping Ivie, Brier, or idle Moſſe,

Who all for want of pruning, with intruſion,

Inſect thy ſap, and live on thy confusion,

Ant. To me ſhe ſpakes, ſhee moves mee for her
theame;

What? was I married to her in my dreame ?

Or ſleepe I now, and thinke I heare all this?

What error drives our eyes and eares amiffie?

Vntill I know this ſure certaintie,

Ile entertain the free'd fallacie.

Luc. Dromio, goe bid the ſervants ſfred for dinner.

S. Dro. Oh for my beads, I croſſe me for a ſinner.

This is the fairie land, oh ſpite of ſpightſ,

We talke with Goblins, Owles and Elves ſprights;

If we obay them not, this will inſue :

They'l ſucke our breath, or pinch us blacke and blew.

Luc. Why prat'ſt thou to thy ſelfe,

Dromio, thou Dromio, ſnaſle, thou ſlug, thou ſot.

S. Dro. I am transformed Maſter, am I not?

Ant. I thinke thou art in minde, and ſo am I.

S. Dro. Nay Maſter, both in minde, and in my ſhape

Ant. Thou haſt thine owne forme.

S. Dro. No, I am an Ape.

Luc. If thou art chang'd to ought, 'tis to an Aſſe.

S. Dro. 'Tis true ſhe rides me, and I long for graſſe.

'Tis ſo, I am an Aſſe, eſſe it could never be,

But I ſhould know her as well as ſhe knowes me.

Adr. Come, come, no longer will I be a ſoole,

To put the finger in thy eye and weepe ;

Whil'ſt man and maſter laughes my woes to ſcorne :

Come fir to dinner, Dromio keepe the gate :

Husband Ile dine above with you to day,

And ſhrive you of a thouſand idle prankes :

Sirra, if any askè you for your Maſter,

Say he dines forth, and let no creature enter :

Come firſter, Dromio play the Porter well.

Ant. Am I in earth, in heaven, or in hell?

Sleeping or waking, mad or well adviſe :

Knowne unto theſe, and to my ſelfe diſguſſe !

Ile ſay as they ſay, and perſever ſo :

And in this miſt at all adventures go.

S. Dro. Maſter, ſhall I be Porter at the gate ?

Adr. I, and let none enter, leaſt I breake your pate.

Luci. Come, come, Antipholia, we dine too late.

H 3

Aſſes

The Comedy of Errors.

90

Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Enter Antipholus of Ephesus, his man Dromio, Angelo the
Goldsmith, and Balthazar the Merchant.

E. Ant. Good fignior Angelo you muſt excufe us all,
My wife is ſhrewiſh when I keepe not howres;
Say that I lingerd with you at your ſhop
To fee the making of her Carkanet,
And that to morrow you will bring it home.
But here's a villaine that would face me downe
He met mé on the Mart, and that I beat him,
And charg'd him with a thouand markes in gold,
And that I did denie my wife and houſe;
Thou drunkard thou, what didſt thou meane by this?

E. Dro. Say what you will fir, but I know what I know,

E. Dro. Marry ſo it doth appeare

By the wrongs I ſuffer, and the blowes I beare:
I ſhould kiemie being kickt, and being at that paſſe,

You would keepe from my heeles, and beware of an affe.

E. Ant. You are ſad fignior Balthazar, pray God our cheer
May anſwer my good will, and your good welcom here.
Bal. I hold your dainties cheap fir, & your welcom deer.

E. Ant. Oh fignior Balthazar, either at fleſh or fish.

A table full of welcome, makes ſcarce one daintie diſh.

Bal. Good meat firſ is common that every churle affords.

Ant. And welcome more common, for that's nothing
but words.

Bal. Small cheere and great welcome, makes a mer-
rie feaſt.

Ant. I, to a niggardly Hoſt, and more ſparing gueſt:
But though my cates be meane, take them in good part,
Better cheere may you have, but not with better hart.

But ſoft, my doore is lockt; goe bid them let us in.

E. Dro. Maud, Briget, Marian, Cily, Gillian, Ginn.

S. Dro. Mome, Malt-horse, Capon, Coxcombe, Idi-
ot, Patch,

Either get thee from the dore; or fit downe at the hatch:
Dott thou conjure for wenches, that they calſt for such ſtoRE,

When one is one too many, goe get the from the doore.

E. Dro. What patch is made our porter ? my Maſter
ſtayes in the ſtreet.

S. Dro. Let him walke from whence he came, left he
catch cold on's ſeet.

E. Ant. Who talks within there? hoa, open the dore.

S. Dro. Right fir, Ile tell you when, and you'll tell
me wherefore.

Ant. Wherefore? for my dinner : I have not din't to
day.

S. Dro. Nor to day here you muſt not come againe
when you may.

Am. What art thou that keep't mee out from the
houſe I owe?

S. Dro. The Porter for this time Sir, and my name is
Dromio.

E. Dro. O villaine, thou haſt ſtolne both mine office
and my name,

The one ne're got me credit, the other mickle blame
If thou haſt bid Dromio to day in my place,

Thou wouldſt have chang'd thy face for a name , or thy
name for an affe.

Enter Luce.

Luc. What a coile is there Dromio? who are the ſtoſe
at the gate?

E. Dro. Let my maſter in Luce.

Luc. Faith no, hee comes too late, and ſo tell your
Maſter.

E. Dro. O Lord I muſt laugh, have at you with a Pro-
verbe.

Shall I ſet in my ſtaffe.

Luc. Have at you with another, that's when? can you
tell ?

S. Dro. If thy name be called Luce, Luce thou haſt an-
ſwer'd him well.

Ant. Doe you heare you minion, you'll let us in I
hope?

Luce. I thought to have askt you.

S. Dro. And you faid no.

E. Dro. So come helpe, well ſtrooke, there was blow
for blow.

Ant. Thou baggage let me in.

Luce. Can you tell for whoſe ſake ?

E. Dro. Maſter, knocke the doore hard.

Luc. Let him knocke till it ake.

Ant. You'll crie for this minion, if I beate the doore
downe.

Luc. What needs all that, and a paire of ſtocks in the
towne?

Enter Adriana.

Adr. Who is that at the doore ? y keepes all this noife?

S. Dro. By my troth your towne is troubled with un-
ruely boyes.

Anti. Are you there Wife? you might have come
before.

Adr. Your wife fir knave? go get you from the dore.

E. Dro. If you went in paine Maſter, this knave wold
goe fore.

Angeio. Heere is neither cheere fir, nor welcome, we
would faine have either.

Baltz. In debating which was beſt, wee ſhall part
with neither.

E. Dro. They ſtand at the doore, Maſter, bid them
welcome hither.

Ant. There is ſomething in the winde, that we can-
not get in.

E. Dro. You would ſay ſo Maſter, if your garments
were thin.

Your cake here is warme within : you ſtand heere in the
cold.

It would make a man as mad as a Bucke to be ſo bought
and fold.

Ant. Go fetch me ſomething, Ile breake ope the gate.

S. Dro. Breake any breaking here, and Ile breake your
knaves pate.

E. Dro. A man may breake a word with you fir, and
words are but winde :

I and breake it in your face, ſo he breake it not behinde.

S. Dro. It ſeemes thou want't breaking, out upon thee
hinde.

E. Dro. Heep's too much, out upon thee, I pray thee let
me in.

S. Dro. I, when fowles have no feathers and fifth have
no fin.

Ant. Well, Ile breake in: goe borrow me a crow.

E. Dro. A crow without feather, Maſter meane you for

["The Comedy of Errors", "16", "For a fifth without a fin, there's a fowle without a feather,\nIf a crow help us in firta, we'll plucke a crow together.", "Ant. Go, get thee gon, fetch me an iron Crow.", "Balib. Have patience fir, oh let it not be to,", "Heerein you warre againſt your reputation,\nAnd draw within the compaſſe of ſuſpect\nTh' unviolated honour of your wife.", "Once this your long experience of your wifedome;\nHer ſober vertue, yeares and modetſte,", "Plead on your part ſome cauſe to you unknowne;\nAnd doubt not fir, but ſhe will well excuſe\nWhy at this time the dores are made againſt you.", "Be rul'd by me, depart in patience,", "And let us to the Tyger all to dinner,", "And about evening come your ſelfe alone,", "To know the reaſon of this ſtrange reſtraint :", "If by ſtrong hand you offer to breake in\nNow in the ſtirring paſſage of the day,", "A vulgar comment will be made of it;", "And that ſuppofed by the common rowt", "Againſt your yet ungalled eſtimation.", "That may with ſoule intruſion enter in,", "And dwell upon your grave when you are dead ;", "For flander lives upon ſuſſeſſion ;", "For ever hows'd, where it once gets poſſeſſion.", "Ant. You have prevail'd, I will depart in quiet,", "And in deſpight of mirth meane to be merrie :", "I know a wench of excellent diſcourſe,", "Prettie and wittie; wide, and yet too gentle;", "There will we dine : this woman that I meane", "My wife (but I proteſt without defert)", "Hath oftentimes upbraided me withall :", "To her will we to dinner, get you home", "And fetch the chaine, by this I know 'tis made,", "Bring it I pray you to the Porpentine,", "For there's the houſe : That chaine I will beſtow", "(Be it for nothing but to ſpight my wife)", "Vpon my hoſſeſle there, good fir make hafte :", "Since mine owne doores reſufe to entertaine me,", "Ile knocke elfe-where, to fee if they'll diſdaine me.", "Ang. Ile meet you at that place ſome houre fir hence.", "Ant. Do I, this jeft ſhall coſt me ſome expence.", "Exeunt.", "Enter Luciana, with Antipholis of Siracusa.", "Iulia. And may it be that you have quite forgot", "A husbands office ? ſhall Antipholis", "Even in the ſpring of Love, thy Loveſprings rot ?", "Shall love in buildings grow ſo ruinate ?", "If you did wed my fifter for her wealth,", "Then for her wealths-fake uſe her with more kindneſſe:", "Or if you like elfe-where, doe it by ſtealth,", "Muffe your ſalſe love with ſome ſhew of blindneſſe:", "Let not my fifter reade it in your eye :", "Be not thy tongue thy owne ſhames Orator :", "Looke ſweet, ſpeake faire, become diſloyaltie :", "Apparell vice like vertues harbenger :", "Bearea faire prefence, though your heart be tainted,", "Teach finne the carriage of a holy Saint,", "Be ſecret ſalſe : what need ſhe be acquainted ?", "What ſimple thieſe brags of his owne attaine ?", "Tis double wrong to truant with your bed,", "And let her reade it in thy lookes at boord :", "Shame hath a baſtard fame, well mannaged,", "Ill deeds are doubled with an evill word :", "Alas poore women, make us not beleeve", "(Being compaſſt of credit) that you love us,", "Though others have the arme, ſhew us the ſleeve :\nWe in your motion turne, and you may move us.", "Then gentle brother get you in againe ;", "Comfort my fitter, cheere her, call her wife;", "Tis holy ſport to be a little vaine,", "When the sweet breath of flatterie conquers ſtrife.", "S. Ant: Sweet Miftris : what your name is elfe I know not;", "Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine :", "Leſſe in your knowledge, and your grace you ſhow not,", "Then our earths wonder, more then earth divine.", "Teach me deere creature how to thinke and ſpeake :", "Lay open to my earthy groſſe conceit :", "Smothred in errors, feeble, ſhaddow, weake,", "The ſouſed meaning of your words decept;", "Againſt my ſoules pure truth, why labour you,", "To make it wander in an unknowne field?", "Are you a god? would you create me new?", "Transforme me then, and to your powre Ile yeeld,", "But if that I am, then well I know,", "Your weeping ſifter is no wife of mine;", "Nor to her bed a homage doe I owe :", "Farre more, farre more, to you doe I decline :", "Oh traine me not ſweet Mermaide with thy note", "To droune me in thy fitters ſlond of teares :", "Sing Siren for thy ſelfe, and I will dote :", "Spreſe ore the ſilver waves thy golden haires ;", "And as a bed Ile take thee, and there lie :", "And in that gloriouſ ſuppofition thinke,", "Hegaines by death, that hath ſuch means to die :", "Let Love, being light, be drowned if ſhe ſinke.", "Luc. What are you mad, that you do reaſon ſo?", "Ant. Not mad, but mated, how I do not know.", "Luc. It is a fault that ſpringeth from your eie.", "Ant. For gazing on your beames, ſaire fun being by.", "Luc. Gaze when you ſhould, and that will cleere your fight.", "Aat. As good to winke ſweet love, as looke on night.", "Luc. Why call you me love? call my ſifter ſo.", "Ant. Thy fitters ſifter.", "Luc. That's my ſifter.", "Dnt. No: it is thy ſelfe, mine owne ſelfes better part:", "Mine eies cleere eie, my deere hearts dearer heart,", "My foode, my fortune, and my ſweet hopes aime;", "My ſole earths heaven, and my heavens claims.", "Luc. All this my ſifter is, or eſſe should be.", "Ant. Call thy ſelfe ſifter ſweet, for I am thee :", "Thee will I love, and with thee leade my life ;", "Thou haſt no husband yet, nor I no wife ;", "Give me thy hand.", "Luc. Oh ſoft fir, hold you ſtill :", "Ile fetch my ſifter to get her good will.", "Enter Dromio, Siracufia.", "Ant. Why how now Dromio, where run'ſt thou ſo\nſaſt?", "S. Dro. Doe you know me fir? Am I\nyour man? Am I my ſelfe?", "Ant. Thou art Dromio, thou art my man, thou art thy ſelfe.", "D

The Comedy of Errors.

Ant. What claire laies she to thee ?

Dro. Marry fir,fuch claire as you would lay to your
horfe, and she would have me as a beaſt ; not that I be-
ing a beaſt she would have me, but that ſhe being a ve-
rie beaſtly creature layes claire to me.

Ant. What is ſhe?

Dro. A very reverent body : I fuch a one , as a man
may not ſpeak of, without he ſay fir reverence : I have
but leane lucke in the match, and yet is ſhe a wondrous
fat marriage.

Ami. How doſt thou meane a fat marriage ?

Dro. Marry fir, ſhe's the Kitchin wench, and all greaſe,
and I know not what uſe to put her too, but to make a
Lampe of her, and run from her by her owne light. I
warrant, her ragges and the Tallow in them, will burne
a Potand Winter : If ſhe lives till doomeſday, ſhe't burne
a weeke longer then the whole World.

Ant. What complexion is ſhe of?

Dro. Swart like my ſhooe, but her face nothing like
ſo cleane kept : for why ? ſhe ſweates a man may goe o-
ver ſhooes in the grime of it.

Ant. That's a fault that water will mend.

Dro. No fir, 'tis in graine, Noahs flood could not
do it.

Ant. What's her name?

Dro. N'ell Sir : but her name is three quarters, that's
an Ell and three quarters, will not meature her from hip
to hip.

Ant. Then ſhe beares ſome breθdth?

Dro. No longer from head to foot, then from hippe to
hippe : ſhe is ſpherically like a globe : I could find out
Countries in her.

Ant. In what part of her body stands Ireland?

Dro. Marry fir in her buttockes, I found it out by
the bogges.

Ant. Where Scotland ?

Dro. I found it by the barrenneſſe, hard in the palme
of the hand.

Ant. Where France?

Dro. In her forehead, arm'd and reverted, making
warre againſt her haire.

Ant. Where England?

Dro. I look'd for the chalky Cliffes, but I could find
no whiteneffe in them. But I gueſſe, it ſlood in her chin
by the ſalt rheume that ranne betweene France, and it.

Ant. Where Spaine?

Dro. Faith I saw it not: but I felt it hot in her breath.

Ant. Where America, the Indies?

Dro. Oh fir, upon her noſe, all ore embellifhed with
Rubies, Carbuncles, Saphires, declining their rich Af-
peſt to the hot breath of Spaine, who lent whole Ar-
madoes of Carraſts to be ballaſt at her noſe.

Ant. Where ſtood Belgia, the Netherlands?

Dro. Oh fir, I did not looke ſo low. To conclude,
this drudge or Diviner layd claire to mec, call'd mee
Dromio, I wfore I was affur'd to her, told me what privie
markes I had about mee, as the markes of my ſhoulder,
the Mole in my necke, the great Wart on my left arme,
that I amaz'd ranne from her as a witch. And I thinke, if
my breſt had not beene made of faith, and my heart of
ſteele, ſhe had transform'd me to a Curtall dog, & made
me turne i'th wheel.

Ant. Go hie thee prefently, poſt to the rode,
And if the winde blow any way from fhore,
I will not harbour in this towne to night.
If any Barke put forth, come to the Mart,

Where I will walke till thou returne to me :
If everie one knowes us, and we know none,
'Tis time I thinke to trudge, packe, and be gone.

Dro. As from a Beare a man would run for life,
So ſie I from her that would be my wife.

Exit.

Ant. There's none but witches do inhabite heere,
And therefore 'tis hie time that I were hence:
She that doth call me husband, even my foule
Doth for a wife abhorre. But her faire ſifter
Poffeſt with fuch a gentle foveraigne grace,
Of fuch inchanting prefence and difcourſe,
Hath almost made me Traitor to my ſelfe :
But leaſt my ſelfe be guilty to ſelfe wrong,
Ile ſtop mine cares againſt the Mermaids ſong.

Enter Angelo with the Chaine.

Aug. M. Antipholis.

Ant. I that's my name,

Ang. I know it well fir, ſoe here's the chaine,
I thought to have tane you at the Perpentine,
The chaine unfiniſh'd made me ſlay thus long.

Ant. What is your will that I ſhall do with this?

Ang. What pleafe your ſelfe fir : I have made it for
you.

Ant. Made it for me fir ! I beſpoke it not.

Ang. Not once, nor twice, but twentie times you
have:

Go home with it, and pleafe your Wife withall ;
And ſoone at ſupper time Ile visit you,
And then receive my mony for the chaine.

Ant. I pray you fir receive the monie now,
For ſeare you ne're fee chaine, nor mony more.

Ang. You are a merry man fir, ſare you well.

Exit.

Dro. What I should thinke of this, I cannot tell:
But this I thinke, there's no man is ſo vaine,
That would ſeſuſe ſo faire an offer'd Chaine.
I fee a man heere needs not live by shifts,
When in the ſtreets he meetes ſuch Golden gifts:
Ile to the Mart, and there for Dromio ſlay,
If any ſhip put out, then ſtrait away.

Exit.

Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Enter a Merchant, Goldsmith, and an Officer.

Ader. You know ſince Pentecoff the ſum is due,
And ſince I have not much importun'd you,
Nor now I had not, but that I am bound
To Perſia, and want Gilders for my voyage :
Therefore make prefent ſatisfaction,
Or Ile attach you by this Officer.

Geld. Even juſt the ſum that I do owe to you,
Is growing to me by Antipholis,
And in the inſtant that I met with you,
He had of me a Chaine : at five a clocke
I ſhall receive the money for the fame:
Pleafeſt you walke with me downe to his houſe,
I will diſcharge my bond, and thanke yoo too.

Enter Antipholis Epheſ. Dromio from the Courtizans.

Offi. That labour may you ſave : See where he comes.

Ant. While I go to the Goldsmiths houſe, goe thou
And

The Comedy of Errors.

And buy a ropes end, that will I beftow
Among my wife, and their confederates,
For locking me out of my doores by day :
But toft I fee the Goldsmith; get thee gone,
Buy thou a rope and bring it home to me.

Dro. I buy a thoufand pound a yeare, I buy a rope.

Exit Dromio

Eph. Ant. A man is well holpe up that trusts to you,
I promifed your prefence, and the Chaine,
But neither Chaine nor Goldsmith came to me :
Belike you thought our love would laft too long
If it were chain'd together : and therefore came not.

Gold. Saving your merry humor, here's the note
How much your Chaine weighs to the utmoft Raccay,
The fineneſſe of the Gold, and chargefull ſaſlion,
Which doth amount to three odde Ducks more
Then I stand debted to this Gentleman,
I pray you fee him prefuettly diſcharg'd,
For he is bound to Sea, and ſtayes but for it.

Anti. I am not furniſh'd with the prefent mony:
Belſides I have ſome buſineſſe in the town,
Good Signior take the ſtranger to my houſe,
And with you take the Chaine, and bid my wife
Disburshe the ſumme, on the receit thereof,
Perchance I will be there as ſoone as you.

Gold. Then you will bring the Chaine to her your ſelſe.

Ant. No beare it with you, leaſt I come not time enough.

Gold. Well fir, I will? Have you the Chaine about you?

Ant. And if I have not fir, I hope you have:
Or eſſe you may returne without your money.

Gold. Nay come I pray you fir, give me the Chaine:
Both winde and tide ſtayes for the Gentleman,
And I too blame have held him here too long.

Ant. Good Lord, you uſe this dalliance to exculſe
Your breach of promife to the Porpentine,
I should have chid you for not bringing it,
But like a ſhrew you firſt begin to brawle.

Mer. The houre ſteales on, I pray you fir diſpatch-

Gold. You heare how he importunes me, the Chaine:

Ant. Why give it to my wife, and fetch your mony.

Gold. Come, come, you know I gave it you even now.

Either fend the Chaine, or fend me by ſome token.

Ant. Fie, now you run this humor out of breath,
Come where's the Chaine, I pray you let me fee it.

Mer. My buſineſſe cannot brooke this dalliance,
Good fir ſay, wher' you'l anſwer me, or no :
If not, Ile leave him to the Officer.

Ant. I anſwer you? Why should I anſwer you?

Gold. The monie that you owe me for the Chaine.

Ant. I owe you none till I receive the Chaine.

Gold. You know I gave it you halſe an houre ſince.

Ant. You gave me none, you wrong meace much to
ſay ſo.

Gold. You wrong me fir in denying it:
Confider how it stands upon my credit.

Mar. Well Officer, arreſt him at my ſuite,
Off. I doe, and charge you in the Dukes name to o-
bey me.

Gold. This touches me in reputation,
Either conſent to pay the ſum for me,
Or I attach you by this Officer.

Ant. Conſent to pay that I never had :
Arreſt me fooliſh fellow if thou dar'ſt.

Gold. Heere is thy fee, arreſt him, Officer.
I would not ſpare my brother in this caſe,
If he should ſcorne me ſo apparently.

Offi. I do arreſt you fir, you heare the ſuite.

Ant. I do obey thee, till I give thee baile:
But firraſh you ſhall buy this ſport as deere,
As all the mettall in your ſhop will anſwer.

Gold. Sir, fir, I ſhall have Law in Ephesus,
To your notorious ſhame, I doubt it not.

Enter Dromio Sir. from the Bay.

Dro. Maſter, there's a Barke of Epidamium,
That ſtayes but till her Owner comes aboord,
Then fir, ſhe beares away. Our ſaughſtage fir,
I have convei'd aboord, and I haue brought
The Oyle, the Balfamum, and Aqua-vitæ.
The ſhip is in her trim, the merrie winde
Blowes faire from land: they ſtay for nought at all,
But for their Owner, Maſter, and your ſelſe.

An. How now ! a Madman! Why thou peeviſh sheep
What ſhip of Epidamium ſtayes for me?

S. Dro. A ſhip you ſent me to, to hier waſtage.

Ant. Thou drunken ſlave, I lent thee for a rope;
And told thee to what purpofe and what end.

S. Dro. You ſent me for a ropes end as ſoone,
You ſent me to the Bay fir, for a Barke.

Ant. I will debate this matter at more leiſure
And teach your eares to lift me with more heede:

To Adriana Villaine hie thee ſtraight :
Give her this key, and tell her in the Deske
That's cover'd o're with Turkifh Tapiftrie,
There is a purſe of Ducks, let her ſend it :
Tell her, I am arreſted in the ſtreete,

And that ſhall baile me: hie thee ſlave, be gone,
On Officer to prifon, till it come.

Exeunt.

S. Dro. To Adriana, that is where we din'd,
Where Dowſabell did claime me for her husband,
She is too bigge I hope for me to compaſſe,
Thither I muſt, although againſt my will :
For ſervants muſt their Maſters mindeſs fulfil.

Exit.

Enter Adriana and Luciana.

Adr. Ah Luciana, did he tempt thee ſo,
Might'ſt thou perceive auſteerely in his eye,
That he did plead in earneſt, yea or no:
Look'd he or red or pale, or ſad or merrily?
What obſervation mad'ſt thou in this caſe?
Of his hearts Meteors tilting in his face?

Luc. Firſt he denide you had in him no right.

Adr. He meant he did me none: the more my ſpight.

Luc. Then ſwore he that he was a ſtranger here.

Adr. And true he ſwore, though yet forſworne he
were.

Luc. Then pleaded I for you.

Adr. And what faid he?

Luc. That love I begg'd for you, he begg'd of me.

Adr. With what pertwafion did he tempt thy love?

Luc. With words, that in an honeſt ſuit might move.
Firſt, he did prayſe my beautit, then my ſpeech.

Adr. Did'ſt ſpeak him faire ?

Luc. Have patience I beſeech.

Adr. I cannot, nor I will not hold me ſtill,
My tongue, though not my heart, shall have his will.

He is deformed, crooked, old and ſere,

Ill-fac'd, worſe bodied, ſhapeſſe every where :

Vicious, ungentle, fooliſh, blunt; unkinde,

Stigma-

The (omedy of) Errors.

94

Stigmaticall in making, worfe the minde.

Luc. Who would be jealous then of such a one ?

Noevill loft is wail'd, when it is gone.

Adr. Ah but I thinke him better then I fay :

And yet would herein others eyes were worfe :

Farre from her neft the Lapwing cries away ;

My heart prays for him, though my tongue doe curfe.

Enter S. Dromio.

Dro. Here, goe: the deske, the purse, sweet now make hafte.

Luc. How haft thou loft thy breath ?

S. Dro. By running faft.

Adr. Where is thy Mafter Dromio? Is he well ?

S. Dro. No, he's in Tartar limbo, worfe then hell :
A divell in an everlafting garment hath him ;

One whoſe hard heart is button'd up with ſteele :

A Feind, a Fairie, pittileſſe and ruffe :

A Wolfe, nay worſe, a fellow all in buffe,

A back friend, a shoulder-clapper, one that countermads

The paffages of allies, creeks, and narrow lands:

A hound that runs Counter, and yet draws drifoot well,

One that before the Iudgmet carries poore foules to hel.

Adr. Why man, what is the matter ?

S. Dro. I do not know the matter, he is reſted on the café.

Adr. What is he arreſted? tell me at whose ſuite?

S. Dro. I know not at whose ſuite he is arreſted, well;
but is in a ſuite of buffe which reſted him, that can I tell:

Will you ſend him Miftris redemption, the monie in his
deske?

Adr. Go fetch it Sifter: this I wonder at.

Exst Luciana.

That he vnknowne to me should be in debt :

Tell me, was he areſted on a band ?

S. Dro. Not on a band, but on a ſtronger thing :

A chaine, a chaine, doe you not here it ring?

Adria. What, the chaine ?

S. Dro. No, no, the bell, 'tis time that I were gone:
It was two ere I left, him, and now the clocke ſtrikes one.

Adr. The houres come backe ! hat did I never heare.

S. Dro. Oh yes, if any houre meete a Serjeant, a turns
backe for very ſeare.

Adr. As if time were in debt: how fondly do'ft thou reaſon?

S. Dro. Time is a very bankrout, and owes more then
he's worth to ſeafon.

Nay, he's a theſee too: have you not heard men ſay,
That time comes ſtealing on by night and day?
If I be in debt and theft, and a Serjeant in the way,
Hath he not reaſon to turne backe an houre in a day?

Enter Luciana.

Adr. Go Dromio, there's the mony, beare it ſtraight,
And bring thy Maſter home immediately.

Come fitter, I am preſt downe with conceit :

Conceit, my comfort and my injurie.

Exit.

Enter Antipholis Siracusan.

An.S. There's not a man I meete but doth ſalute me
As if I were their wellacquainted friend,

And everie one doth call me by my name :
Some tender monie to me, ſome invite me ;
Some other give me thankses for kindneſſes ;

Some offer me Commodities to buy.

Even now a tailor cal'd me in his ſhop,

And flow'd me Silkes that he had bought for me,

And therewithall tooke meatiue of my body.

Sure theſe are but imaginarie wiles,

And Lapland Sorcerers inhabite here.

Enter Dromio. Sir.

S. Dro. Maſter, here's the gold you ſent me for: what
have you got the picture of old Adam new apparel'd?

Adr. What gold is this ? What Adams do'ft thou
meane ?

S. Dro. Not that Adam that kept the Paradife : but
that Adams that keepeſ the prifon ; hee that goes in the
calves-skin, that was kill'd for the Prodigall : hee that
came behinde you fir, like an evill angel, and bid you for-
ſake your liberty.

Adr. I underſand thee not.

S. Dro. No? why 'tis a plaine cafe : he that went like
a Bafe Viole in a cafe of leather ; the man fir, that when
gentlemen are tired gives them a fob, and reſts them :
he fir, that takes pitty on decaied men, and gives them
fuites of durance: he that fets up his reſt to doe more ex-
ploits with his Mace, then a Moris Pike.

Adr. What! thou mean't an officer?

S. Dro. I fir, the Serjeant of the Band : he that brings
any man to anſwer it that breaks his Band: one that
thinkes a man always going to bed, and ſaith, God give
you good reſt.

Adr. Well fir, there reſt in your foolerie :

Is there any ſhip puts forth to night ? may we be gone?

S. Dro. Why fir, I brought you word an houre ſince,
that the Barke Expedition put forth to night, and then
were you hindred by the Serjeant to tarry for the Hoy
Delay: Here are the angels that you ſent for to deliver
you.

Adr. The fellow is diſtraſt and so am I,

And here we wander in illusions:

Some bleſſed power deliver us from hence.

Enter a Curtizan.

Cur. Well met, well met, Maſter Antipholis :

I fee fir you have found the Gold-ſmith now :

Is that the chaine you promis'd me to day ?

Adr. Sathan avoid's, I charge thee: tempt me not.

S. Dro. Maſter, is this Miftris Sathan ?

Adr. It is the divell.

S. Dro. Nay, ſhe is worſe, ſhe is the divels dam :

And here ſhe comes in the habit of a light wench, and
thereof comes that the wenches ſay God dam me, That's
as much to ſay, God make me a light wench: It is writ-
ten, they appeare to men like angels of light, light is an
effect of fire, and fire will burne: ergo, light wenches will
burne, come not neere her.

Cur. Your man and you are marveilous merry fir.

Will you goe with me, wee'll mend our dinner here?

S. Dro. Maſter, if you doe, expect ſpoon-meate, or be-
ſpeake a long ſpooze.

Adr. Why Dromio?

S. Dro. Marrie he muſt have a long ſpooze that muſt
cate with the divell.

Ans. Avoid then fiend, what tel'ft thou me of sup-
Thou art, (as you are all) a forcer effe: (ping?

I conjure thee to leave me, and be gon.

Cur. Give me the ring of mine you had at dinner,
Or for my Diamond the chaine you promis'd,
And Ile be gone fir, and not trouble you.

S. Dro. Some divels aske but the parings of ones naile,

2

The Comedy of Errors.

95

a ruff, a haire, a drop of blood, a pin, a nut, a cherrie-
stone: but she more covetous, would have a chaine: Ma-
fer bewife, and if you give it her, the divell will shak her
Chaine, and fright us with it.

Cur. I pray you fir my Ring, or elfe the Chaine,
I hope you do not meane to cheate me fo ?

Ant. Anant thou witch: Come Dromio let us go.

S. Dro. Fly pride fayes the Pea-cocke, Miftris that you know.

Cur. Now out of doubt Antipholis is mad,
Elle would he never fo demeane himselfe,
A Ring he hath of mine worth fortie Ducks,
And for the fame he promis'd me a Chaine,
Both one and other he denies me now :
The reafon that I gather he is mad,
(Befides this prefent infance of his rage;)
Is a mad tale he told to day at dinner,
Of his owne doores being flut againſt his entrance,
Belike his wife acquainted with his fits,
On purpose flut the doores againſt his way.
My way is now to hie home to his houſe,
And tell his wife that being Lunaticke,
He ruff'd into my houſe, and tooke perforce
My Ring away. This courfe I fitteſt choofe,
For fortie Ducksets is too much to loofe.

Exit.

Enter Antipholus Ephes. with a Lailor.

An. Feare me not man, I will not breake away,
Ile give thee ere I leave thee ſo much mony
To warrant thee as I am reſted for.
My wife is in a wayward moode to day,
And will not lightly truſt the Meſſenger,
That I should be attach'd in Ephesus,
I tell you 'twill found harſhly in her eares.

Enter Dromio Eph. with a ropes end.

Heere comes my Man, I thinke he brings the monie.
How now fir ? Have you that I ſent you for?

E. Dro. Here's that I warrant you will pay them all.

Ant. But where's the Money ?

E. Dro. Why fir, I gave the Monie for the Rope.

Am. Five hundred Ducksets villaine for a rope?

E. Dro. Ile ferve you fir five hundred at the rate.

Ant. To what end did I bid thee hight thee home?

E. Dro. To aropes end fir, and to that end am I return'd.

Ant. And to that end fir, I will welcome you.

Offi. Good fir be patient.

E. Dro. Nay'tis for me to be patient, I am in adver-
sitie.

Offi. Good now hold thy tongue.

E. Dro. Nay, rather perfwade him to hold his hands.

Ant. Thou whoreſon ſenſeleſſe Villaine.

E. Dro. I would I were ſenſeleſſe fir, that I might not
feele your blowes.

Ant. Thou art ſenſible in nothing but blowes, and
ſo is an Aſſe.

E. Dro. I am an Aſſe indeede, you may proove it by
my long eares. I have ſerved him from the houre of my
Nativitie to this inſtant, and have nothing at his hands
for my ſervice but blowes. When I am cold, he heates
me with beating : when I am warme, he cooles me with
beating : I am wak'd with it when I fleepe, rais'd with
it when I fir, driven out of doores with it when I goe
from home, welcom'd home with it when I returne, nay

I beare it on my shoulders, as a begger woont her brat
and I thinke when he hath Iam'd me, I shall begge with
it from doore to doore.

Enter Adriana, Luciana, Courtizan, and a Schoole-
maſter, called Pinch.

Ant. Come goe along, my wife is comming yon-
der.

E. Dro. Miftris ſepſice ſinem, reſpect your end, or ra-
ther the propheſie like the Parrot, beware the ropes end.

Ant. Wilt thou ſtill talke?

Beats Dro.

Cur. How ſay you now ? Is not your husband mad?

Adri. His incivility confirmes no leſſe :

Good Doctor Pinch, you are a Conjurer,

Eſtablish him in his true fence againe,

And I will pleafe you what you will demand.

Luc. Alas how fiery and how ſharpe he lookse,

Cur. Marke, how he trembles in his extaſſe.

Pinch. Give me your hand, and let mee feele your
pulſe.

Ant. There is my hand, and let it feele your eare.

Pinch. I charge thee Sathan, houſ'd within this man
To yeeld poſſeſſion to my holie priaiers,

And to thy ſtate of darkenetle hie theeſtraight,

I conjure thee by all the Saints in heaven.

Ant. Peace doting wizard, peace; I am not mad.

Adr. Oh that thou wert not, poore diſtrefled foule.

Ant. You Minion you, are there your Cusſomers?

Did this companion with the ſaffon face

Revell and feaſt it at my houſe to day,

Whil't upon me the guiltie doores were flut,

And I denied to enter in my houſe.

Adr. O husband, God doth know you din'd at home
Where would you had remain'd untill this time,

Free from theſe flanders, and this open ſhame.

Ant. Din'd at home? Thou Villaine, what ſayſt
thou?

Dro. Sir footh to ſay, you did not dine at home.

Ant. Were not my doores lockt up, and I flut out?

Dro. Perdie, your doores were lockt, and you flut
out.

Ant. And did not ſhe her ſelſe revile me there?

Dro. Sans Fable, ſhe her ſelſe reviſt you there.

Ant. Did not her Kitchen maide raile, taunt, and
ſcorne me ?

Dro. Certis ſhe did, the kitchin veſtall ſcorn'd you?

Ant. And did not I in rage depart from thence ?

Dro. In veritie you did, my bones beare witneſſe,

That ſince have felt the vigour of his rage.

Adr. Is't good to ſmooth him in theſe contraries?

Pinch. It is no ſhame, the fellow finds his veine,

And yeelding to him, humors well his frenſie.

Ant. Thou haſt ſubornd the Goldsmith to arreſt
me.

Adr. Alas, I ſent you Monie to redeeme you,
By Dromio heere, who came in haſt for it.

Dro. Monie by me? Heart and good will you might,
But ſurely Maſter not a ragge of Monie.

Ant. Wenteſt not thou to her for a purſe of Ducksets?

Adri. He came to me and I deliver'd it.

Luci. And I am witneſſe with her that ſhe did:

Dro. God and the Rope-maker beare me witneſſe,
That I was ſent for nothing but a rope.

Pinch. Miftris, both Man and Maſter is poſſeſſ,
I know it by their pale and deadly lookse.

They

96

The Comedy of Errors.

They must be bound and laide in some darke roome.

Ant. Say wherefore didst thou locke me forth to day,
And why doft thou denie the bagge of gold?

Adr. I did not gentle husband locke thee forth.

Dro. And gentle M. I receiv'd no gold:

But I confesle fir, that we were lock'd out.

Adr. Diffembling Villain, thou speak'st falfe in both.

Ant. Diffembling harlot, thou art falfe in all,

And are confederate with a damned packe,

To make a loathfome abject fcorne of me :

But with thefe nailes Ile plucke out theſe falſe eyes,

That would behold in me this famefull ſport.

Enter three or ſoure, and offer to binde him:
He ſtrives.

Adr. Oh binde him, binde him, let him not come neere me.

Pinch. More company, the fiend is strong within him.

Luc. Aye me poore man, how pale and wan he looks.

Ant. What, will you murther me, thouailor thou?
I am thy prifoner, wilt thou ſuffer them to make a reſ-
cue ?

Off. Maſters let him goe : he is my prifoner, and you
flail not have him.

Pinch. Go binde this man, for he is franticke too.

Adr. What wilt thou do, thou peeſih officer ?

Haſt thou delight to ſee a wretched man

Do outrage and difpleasure to himſelfe ?

Off. He is my prifoner, if I let him go,

The debt he owes will be requir'd of me.

Adr. I will diſcharge thee ere I goe from thee,
Beare me forthwith unto his Creditor,

And knowing how the debt growes I will pay it.

Good Maſter Doctor fee him ſafe convey'd

Home to my houſe, oh moſt unhappy day.

Ant. Oh moſt unhappy ſtrumpet.

Dro. Maſter, I am heere entred in bond for you.

Ant. Out on thee Villaine wherefore doſt thou mad-
me ?

Dro. Will you be bound for nothing, be mad good maſter, cry the divell.

Luc. God helpe poore foules, how idlyle doe they
talke.

Adr. Goe beare him hence, ſifter go you with me :
Say now, whoſe ſuite is he arreſted at?

Excent. Manet Oſſie. Adri. Luei. Courtizan.

Off. One Angelo a Goldſmith, do you know him?

Adr. I know the man: what is the fumme he owes?

Off. Two hundred Ducks.

Adr. Say, how growes it due.

Off. Due for a Chaine your husband had of him.

Adr. He did beſpeake a chaine for me, but had it not.

Cour. When as your husband all in rage to day
Came to my houſe, and tooke away my Ring,
The Ring I faw upon his finger now,

Straight after did I meete him with a Chaine,

Adr. It may be ſo, but I did never fee it.

Come Iailor, bring me where the Goldſmith is,
I long to know the truth heereof at large.

Enter Antipholis Siracusian with his Rapier drawne,
and Dromio Sirac.

Luc. God for thy mercy, they are loofe againe.

Adr. And come with naked twords,

Let's call more helpe to have them bound againe.

Runne all out.

Off. Away, they'll kill us

Excent omnes, as falſ as may be, frighted.

S. Ant. I fee theſe Witches are affraide of twords.

S. Dro. She that would be your wife, now ran from
you.

Ant. Come to the Centaure, fetch our ſtuffe from
thence:

I long that we were ſafe and found aboord.

Dro. Faith ſtay here this night, they will fully do us no harme: you faw they ſpake us faire, give us gold: me thinkes they are ſuch a gentle Nation, that but for the Mountaine of mad ſleth that claims me, marriage of me, I could finde in my heart to ſtay heere ſtill, and turne Witch.

Ant. I will not ſtay to night for all the towne,

Therefore away, to get our ſtuffe aboord.

Excent.

Adus Quintus. Scena Prima.

Enter the Merchant and the Goldsmith.

Gold. I am forry Sir that I have hindred you,
But I proteſt he had the Chaine of me,
Though moſt diſhonefly he did denie it.

Mer. How is the man eſſeem'd here in the Citie?

Gold. Of very reverent reputation fir,

Of credit infinite, highly belov'd.

Second to none that lives here in the Citie :

His word might beare my wealth at any time.

Mer. ſpeake softly, yonder as I thinke he walkes.

Enter Antipholis and Dromio againe.

A Gold, 'Tis ſo : and that ſelbe chaine about his necke,
Which he forſwore (moſt monſtrouſly) to have.

Good fir draw neere to me, Ile ſpeake to him :

Signior Antipholis, I wonder much

That you would put me to this ſhame and trouble,

And not without ſome ſcandall to your ſelfe,

With circumſtance and oaths, to denie

This chaine, which now you weare ſo openly.

Befide the charge, the ſhame, imprifonment,

You have done wrong to this my honeſt friend,

Who but for staying on our Controverſie,

Had hoſted ſnie, and put to ſea to day :

This chaine you had of me, can you denie it?

Ant. I thinke I had, I never did deny it.

Mer. Yes that you did fir, and forſwore it too.

Ant. Who heard me to denie it or forſweare it?

Mer. Theſe eares of mine thou knowſt did hear thee:
Fie on thee wretch, 'tis pitty that thou liv'ſt

To walke where any honeſt men reſort.

Ant. Thou art a Villaine to impech me thus,
Ile prove mine honor, and mine honeſty

Againſt thee preſently, if thou dar'ſt ſtand :

Mer. I dare and do defie thee for a villaine.

They draw. Enter Adriana, Luciana, Courtezan, &c. others.

Adr. Hold, hurt him not for God ſake, he is mad,
Some get within him, take his ſword away :
Binde Dromio too, and beare them to my houſe.

S. Dro. Runne mafter run, for God ſake take a houſe,
This is ſome Priorie, in, or we are ſpoyl'd.

Excent to the Priorie.

Enter

The Comedy of Errors.

Enter Lady Abbeſſe.

Abb. Be quiet people, wherefore throng you hither?
Adr. To fetch my poore diftraſted husband hence,
Let us come in, that we may binde him faſt,
And beare him home for his recovery.

Gold. I knew he was not in his perfect wits.

Mer. I am forry now that I did draw on him.

Ab. How long hath this poffeffion held the man?

Adr. This weeke he hath beene heavy, lower, sad,
And much much different from the man he was :

But till this afternoone his paſſion

Ne're brake into extremity of rage.

Ab. Hath he not loft much wealth by wracke at Sea,
Buried fome deare friend, hath not eſſe his eye
Strai'd his affection in unlawfull love,

A fine prevailing much in youthfull men,
Who give their eyes the liberty of gazing.

Which of theſe forrowes is he ſubject too ?

Ad. To none of theſe except it be the laſt,

Namely, fome love that drew him oft from home.

Ab. You ſhould for that have reprehended him.

Ad. Why ſo I did.

Ab. I, but not rough enough.

Ad. As roughly as my modety would let me.

Ab. Haply in private.

Ad. And in affembles too.

Ab. I, but not enough.

Ad. It was the copie of our conference.

In bed he ſlept not for my urging it,

At board he fed not for my urging it:

Alone, it was the ſubject of my Theame :

In company I often glanced it:

Still did I tell him, it was vilde and bad.

Ab. And thereof came it that the man was mad.
The venome clamours of a jealous woman,
Poyſons more deadly then a mad dogs tooth.

It feemes his fleepes were hindred by thy rayling,
And thereof comes it that his head is light.

Thou ſaith his meate was faw'd with thy upbraidings,
Vnquiet meales makes ill diſeſtions,

Thereof the raging fire of feaver bred,

And what's a Feaver but a fit of Madneſſe ?

Thy fayet his ſports were hindred by thy brawles.

Sweet recreation barr'd, what doth enſue

But muddy and dull melancholly,

Kinfman to grim and comfortleſe deſpaire,

And at her heeles a huge inſedious troope

Of pale diſtemperatures, and foes to life ?

In fooſd, in ſport, and life-preferving reſt

To be diſturb'd, would mad or man or beaſt :

The conſequence is then, thy jealous fits

Have ſcar'd thy husband from the uſe of wits.

Luc. She never reprehended him but mildly,
When he demeand'd himſelfe rough, rude, and wildly.

Why beare you theſe rebukes, and anſwer not?

Ad. She did betray me to my owne reproofe,
Good people enter and lay hold on him.

Ab. No, not a creature enters in my houſe.

Ad. Then let your ſervants bring my husband ſerth.

Ab. Neither : he tooke this place for ſanctuary,
And it ſhall privilege him from his hands,
Till I have brought him to his wits againe,
Or loſe my labour in affaying it.

Ad. I will attend my husband, be his nurſe,

Diet his ſickneſſe, for it is my Office,
And will have no Atturney but my ſelfe,
And therefore let me have him home with me.

Ab. Be patient, for I will not let him ſtirre,
Till I have us'd the approved meanes I have,
With wholſome firrups, drugges, and holy prayers
To make of him a formall man againe :

It is a branch and parcell of mine oath,

A charitable dutie of my order,

Therefore depart, and leave him here with me.

Ad. I will not hence, and leave my husband heere :
And ill it doth beſteme your holineſſe

To ſeparate the husband and the wife.

Ab. Be quiet and depart, thou ſhalt not have him.

Luc. Complaine unto the Duke of this indignity.

Ad. Come goe, I will fall proſtrate at his feet,

And never rife untill my teares and prayers

Have won his Grace to come in perſon hither,

And take perſence my husband from the Abbeſſe.

Enter Merchant and Goldsmith.

Mer. By this I thinke the Dyall points at five :

Anon I'me ſure the Duke himſelfe in perſon

Cometh this way to the Melancholly vale ;

The place of depth, and forry execution,

Behinde the ditches of the Abbey here.

Gold. Vpon what cauſe?

Mer. To fee a reverent Siracſian Merchant,

Who put unluckily into this Bay

A gainſt the Lawes and Statutes of this Towne,

Beheaded publikeſt for his offence.

Gold. See where they come, we will behold his death.

Enter Adriana and Lucio.

Luc. Kneele to the Duke before he paffe the Abbey.

Enter the Duke of Epiſſuo, and the Merchant of Siracuſſe,
barebeaded, with the Head-man, and other Officers.

Duke. Yet once againe proclaime it publikeſt,

If any friend will pay the ſumme for him,

He ſhall not die, ſo much we tender him.

Enter Adriana.

Adr. Inſtice moſt ſacred Duke againſt the Abbeſſe.

Duke. She is a vertuous and a reverend Lady,

It cannot be that ſhe hath done theſe wrong.

Ad. May it plesa your Grace, Antipholis my husband.

Whom I made Lord of me, and all I had,

(At your impotent Letters) this illday,

A moſt outragious fit of madneſſe tooke him,

That deſp'trately he hurried through the street,

With him his bondman, all as mad as he,

Doing diſpleasure to the Citizens,

By rufhing in their houſes : bearing thence

Rings, Jewels, any thing his rage did like.

Once did I get him bound, and ſent him home,

Whil'ſt to take order for the wrongs I went,

That here and there his fury had committed.

Anon, I wot not, by what ſtrong eſcape

He broke from thofe that had the guard of him,

And with his mad attendant and himſelfe,

Each one with irefull paſſion, with drawne Swords

Met us againe, and madly bent on us,

Chac'd us away : till raſing of more aide,

We came againe to binde them : then they fled

Into this Abbey, whither we purfu'd them,

And here the Abbeſſe fluts the gates on us,

And will not ſuffer us to fetch him out,

Nor ſend him forth, that we may beare him hence.

Therefore e

98

The Comedy of Errors.

Therefore moft gracious Duke with thy command,
Let him be brought forth, and borne hence for helpe:

Duke. Long since thy husband ferv'd me in my Warres,
And I to thee ingag'd a Princes word,
When thou didst make him mafter of thy bed,
To doe him all the grace and good I could,
Goe fome of you knocke at the Abbey gate,
And bid the Lady Abbeſſe come to me :
I will determine this before I ſtirre.

Enter a Meſſenger.

Melf. O Miftrifle, Miftris, ſhift and ſave your ſelfe,
My Maſter and his man are both broke loofe,
Beaten the Maides a-row, and bound the Doctor,
Whofe beard they have find'd off with brands of fire,
And ever as it blaz'd, they threw on him
Great pailes of pudded myre to quench the haire ;
My Mr. preaches patience to him, and the while
His man with Scifflors nickes him like a fool :
And fire (unleſſe you ſend ſome other preſent helpe)
Betweene them they will kill the Conjurer.

Ad. Peace foolc, thy Maſter and his man are here,
And that is falſe thou doſt report of us.

Melf. Miftris, upon my life I tell you true,
I have not breath'd almoſt Since I did fee it.
He cryes for you, and vowes if he can take you,
To ſcorch your face, and to disfigure you :

Cry within.

Harke, barke, I heare him Miftris : flie, be gone.

Duke. Come, stand by me, ſeare nothing: guard with Halberds.

Ad. Ay me, it is my husband : witneſſe you,
That he is borne about invifible,

Even now we houſt him in the Abbey here,
And now hee's there, paſt thought of humane reaſon:

Enter Antipholis, and E. Dromio of Ephesus.

E. Ant. Inſtice moſt gracious Duke, on grant me Inſtice,
Even for the ſervice that long ſince I did thee,
When I beſtrid thee in the warres, and tooke
Deepe skarres to ſave thy life; even for the blood
That then I loſt for thee, now grant me Inſtice.

Mar. Fat. Unleſſe the ſteare of death doth make mee dote, I fee my ſonne Antipholis and Dromio.

E. Ant. Inſtice (sweet Prince) againſt that woman
She whom thou gav't to me to be my wife ; (there
That hath abufed and diſhonoured me,
Even in the ſtrength and height of injury :
Beyond imagination is the wrong
That the thisday hath thameleſſe throwne on me.

Duke. Diſcover how, and thou ſhalt finde me juſt.

E. Ant. This day (great Duke) the ſhut the doores
upon me.

Whilſt the with Harlots ſeaſted in my houſe.

Duke. A grievous ſault: ſay woman didſt thou ſo?

Ad. No, my good Lord. My ſelfe, he, and my Sifter,
To day did dine together: ſo befall my ſoule,
As this is falſe he burthens me withall.

Luc. Ne're may I looke on day, nor ſleepe on night,
But the tels to your Highneſſe ſimple truth.

Gold. O perjur'd woman ! They are both forſworne,
In this the Mad man juſſly chargeth them.

E. Ant. My Liege, I am adviſed what I ſay,
Neither diſturbed with the effect of Wine,
Nor heady-raſh provok'd with raging ire,
Albeit my wrongs might make one wiser mad.

This woman lock'd me out this day from dinner;
That Goldsmith there, were he not pack'd with her,
Could witneſſe it: for he was with me then,
Who parted with me to goe fetch a Chaine,
Promiſing to bring it to the Porpentine,
Where Ealthaſſ and I did dine together.

Our dinner done, and he not comming thither,
I went to ſeeke him. In the ſtreet I met him,
And in his company that Gentleman.

There did this perjur'd Goldsmith ſware me downe,
That I this day from him receiv'd the Chaine,
Which God he knowes, I ſaw not. For the which,
He did arreſt me with an Officer.

I did obey, and ſent my Pefant home
For certaine Duckets: he with none return'd,
Then fairely I beſpoke the Officer

To goe in perſon with me to my houſe.
By'th'way, we met my wife, her ſifter, and a rabble more

Of vilde Confederates: Along with them
They brought one Pinch, a hungry leane-ſac'd Villains ;

A meere Anatomy, a Mountebanke,
A thred-bare Iugler, and a Fortune-roller,
A needy-hollow-ey'd ſharpe-looking-wretch ;

A living dead man. This pernicious ſlave,
Forſtooth tooke on him as a Conjurer :

And gazing in mine eyes, feeling my pulſe,
And with no-face (as t'were) out-facing me,

Cries out, I was poſſeſt. Then altogether
They fell upon me, bound me, bore me thence,
And in a darke and dankiſh vault at home

There left me and my man, both bound together,
Till gnawing with my teeth my bonds aſunder,
I gain'd my freeſome ; and immediately

Ran hither to your Grace, whom I beſeech
To give me ample ſatisfaction

For these deepe ſhames, and great indignities,

“ Gold, My Lord, in truth, thus farre I witneſſe with him:

That he din'd not at home, but was lock'd out.

Duke. But had he ſuch a Chaine of thee, or no?

Gold. He had my Lord, and when he ran in here,
These people ſaw the Chaine about his necke.

Mer. Befides, I will be ſworne the ſeſe eares of mine,
Heard you conſeſſe you had the Chaine of him,
After you firſt forſwore it on the Mart,

And thereupon I drew my ſword on you :

And then you ſled into this Abbey here,
From whence I thinke you are come by miracle.

E. Ant. I never came within theſe Abbey wals,
Nor ever didſt thou draw thy ſword on me :
I never ſaw the Chaine, ſo heſpe me heaven :
And this is falſe he burthens me withall.

Duke. Why what an intricate impeach is this?
I thinke you all have drunke of Circes Cup :

If here you houſ'd him, here he would have been.

If he were mad he would not pleade ſo coldly :
You ſay he din'd at home, the Goldsmith here

Denies that ſaying. Sirra, what ſay you ?

E. Dro. Sir hee din'd with her there, at the Porpentine.

Cur. He did, and from my ſinger ſnatcht that Ring.

E. Ant. Tis true (my Liege) this Ring I had of her.
Duke. Sawt thou him enter at the Abbey here ?

Curt. As ſure (my Leige) as I doe ſee your Grace.

Duke. Why this is ſtrange: Goe call the Abbeſſe hither.

I thinke you are all mated, or ſtarke made,

Exit.

The Comedy of Errors.

99

Exit one to the Abbeſſe.

Fa. Moſt mighty Duke,vouchſaſe me ſpeake a word:
Haply I fee a friend will ſave my life,
And pay the ſumme that may deliver me.

Duke. Speake freely Syracuſan what thou wilt.

Fat. Is not your name fir call'd Antipholis ?

And is not that your bondman Dromio ?

E. Dro. Within this houre I was his bondman fir,
But he I thanke him gnaſd in two my cords,
Now am I Dromio, and his man, unbound.

Fat. I am ſure both of you remember me.

Dro. Our ſelves we doe remember fir by you :

For lately we were bound as you are now.

You are not Pinches Patient, are you fir ?

Fat. Why looke you ſtrange on me ? you know
me well.

E. Ant. I never ſaw you in my life till now.

Fa. Oh! grieſe hath chang'd me ſince you ſaw me laſt,
And careful ſullours with times deſormed hand,

Have written ſtrange deſfectures in my ſace :

But tell me yet, doſt thou not know my voyce ?

Ant. Neicher.

Fat. Dromio, nor thou.

Dro. No truſt me fir, nor I.

Fat. I am ſure thou doſt ?

E. Dromio. I fir, but I am ſure I doe not, and whatſo-
ever a man denies, you are now bound to believe him.

Fat. Not know my voyce ! oh times extremity,
Haſt thou ſo crack'd and ſplitted my poore tongue

In ſeven ſhort yeares, that here my onely ſonne

Knowes not my feeble key of untuſ'd cares ?

Though now this grained face of mine be hid

In ſap-confuſing Winters drizled ſnow,

And all the Conduits of my blood froze up :

Yet hath my night of life ſome memorie :

My waſting lampes ſome fading glimmer left ;

My duſd alaſe cares a little uſe to heare :

All theſe old wittneſſes, I cannot erre.

Tell me, thou art my ſonne Antipholis.

Ant. I never ſaw my Father in my life.

Fa. But ſeven yeares ſince, in Syracuſa Boy,
Thou know'ſt we parted, but perhaps my ſonne,
Thou ſham'ſt to acknowledge me in miſery.

Ant. The Duke, and all that know me in the City,
Can wittneſſe with me that it is not ſo.

I ne're ſaw Siracuſa in my life.

Duke. I tell thee Siracuſan, twenty yeares

Have I been Patron to Antipholis,

During which time he ne're ſaw Syracuſa :

I fee thy age and dangers make thee dote.

Enter the Abbeſſe with Antipholis Siracuſan,
and Dromio Sir.

Abbeſſe. Moſt mighty Duke, behold a man much
wrong'd.

All gather to ſee them.

Adr. I fee two husbands, or mine eyes deceive me.

Duke. One of theſe men is genius to the other :

And fo of theſe, which is the naturall man,

And which the ſpirt? Who deciphers them ?

S. Dromio. I Sir am Dromio, command him away.

E. Dro. I Sir am Dromio, pray let me ſtay.

S. Ant. Egeon art thou not ? or else his ghoff.

S. Drom. Oh my old Maſter, who hath bound him
heere?

Abb. Who ever bound him, I will looſe his bonds,
And gaine a husband by his liberty :

Speake old Egeon, if thou bee'ſt the man

That had'ſt a wife once call'd ſEmilia,

That bore thee at a burthen two faire ſonnes?

Oh if thou bee'ſt the fame Egeon, ſpeake :

And ſpeake unto the fame ſEmilia.

Duke. Why heere begins his Morning ſtory right:
The ſe two Antipholis, the ſe two ſo like,

And the ſe two Dromio's, one in ſemblance :

Befides her urging of her wracke at ſea,

The ſe are the Parents to theſe children,

Which accidentally are met together.

Fat. If I dreame not, thou art ſEmilia,
If thou art ſhe, tell me, where is that ſonne
That floated with thee on the fatall rafte.

Abb. By men of Epidamnium, he, and I,

And the twin Dromio, all were taken up ;

But by and by, rude Fishermen of Corinth

By force tooke Dromio, and my ſonne from them,

And me they left with theſe of Epidamnium.

What then became of them, I cannot tell :

I, to this fortune that you fee me in.

Duke. Antipholis thou cam'ſt from Corinth firſt.

S. Ant. No fir, not I, I came from Syracuſe.

Duke. Stay, ſtand apart, I know not which is which.

E. Ant. I came from Corinth my moſt gracious Lord.

E. Dro. And I with him.

E. Ant. Brought to this Towne by that moſt famous
Warriour,

Duke Menaphon, your moſt renowned Vncle.

Adr. Which of you two did dine with me to day ?

S. Ant. I, gentle Mif Morris.

Adr. And are not you my husband ?

E. Ant. No, I ſay nay to that.

S. Ant. And fo doe I, yet did the call me fo :

And this faire Gentlewoman here

Did call me brother. What I told you then,

I hope I ſhall have leifure to make good,

If this be not a dreame I fee and heare.

Goldsmith. That is the Chaine fir, which you had of
mee.

S. Ant. I thinke it be fir, I deny it not.

E. Ant. And you fir for this Chaine arreſted me.

Gold. I thinke I did fir, I deny it not.

Adr. I ſent you money fir to be your baile

By Dromio, but I thinke he brought it not.

E. Dro. No, none by me.

S. Ant. This purle of Ducks I receiv'd from you,

And Dromio my man did bring them me :

I fee wee ſtill did meet each others man,

And I was tane for him, and he for me,

And thereupon the ſe errors are aroſe,

E. Ant. Theſe Ducks pawne I for my Father here.

Duke. It ſhall not need, thy father hath his life.

Cur. Sir I moſt have that Diamond from yous.

E. Ant. There take it, and much thanks for my good
cheere.

Abb. Renowned Duke, vouchſaſe to take the paines
To goe withus into the Abbey here,

And heare at large diſcourſed all our fortunes,

And all that are affembled in this place :

That by this ſimpathized one dayes error,

Have ſuffered wrong. Goe, keepe us company.

1 2

And

100

The Comedy of Errors.

And we shall make full satisfaction.

Thirty three years have I beene gone in travel
Of you my fonnes,and till this prelent houre

My heavy burthens are delivered :

The Duke my husband,and my children both,
And you the Kalenders of their Nativity,
Goe to a Gofflips feast,and goe with me,
After fo long grieſe ſuch Nativity.

Duke. With all my heart,lle Gofflip at this feast.

Excuse omnes. Manet she two Dromio's and
two Brothers.

S. Dro. Maſt, ſhall I fetch your fluffe from chipboord?

E. As. Dromio, what fluffe of mine haſt thou imbark'd.

S. Dro. Your goods that lay at hoſt fir in the Centaur.

S. Ant. He speaks to me, I am your Maſter Dromio.

Come, goe with us, we'll looke to that anon,
Embrace thy brother there, rejoyce with him.

Exit.

S. Dro. There is a fat friend at your Maſters houſe,
That kitchin'd me for you to day at dinner :
She now ſhall be my ſifter, not my wife.

E. D. Me thinkes you are my glaſſe, and not my bro-
I fee by you, I am a sweet fac'd youth,
(ther:

Will you walke into fee their Goffipping ?

S. Dro. Not I fir, you are my Elder.

E. Dro. That's a queſtion, how ſhall I try it.

S. Dro. Wee'll draw Cuts for the Signior, till then,
leade thou firſt.

E. Dro. Nay then thus:

We came into the world like brother and brother :

And now let's goe hand in hand, not one before another.

Exenot.

FINIS.

Much adoe about Nothing.

Actus Primus, Scæna Prima.

Enter Leonato Governour of Messina, Iuvençed his wife, Hero his daughter, and Beatrice his Neece, with a Messenger.

Leonato.

Learne in this Letter, that Don Peter of Arragon
cometh this night to Messina.

Meff. He is very neere by this : he was not
three Leagues off when I left him.

Leon. How many Gentlemen have you loft in this action?

Mef. But few of any fort, and none of name.

Leon. A victory is twice it selfe, when the atchiever brings home full numbers : I find heere , that Don Peter hath beftowed much honour on a yong Florentine, called Claudio,

Mef. Much deferv'd on his part, and equally remem-
bred by Don Pedro, he hath borne himſelfe beyond the
promile of his age, doing in the figure of a Lambe, the
feates of a Lyon, he hath indeed better bettred expeſation-
on, than you muſt expeſt of me to tell you how.

Leo. He hath an Vnkleck here in *Messina*, will be very much glad of it.

Mef. I have already delivered him Letters, and there
appears much joy in him, even so much that joy could
not thew it ſelfe modeſt enough, without a badge of bit-
terneſſe.

Leo. Did he breake out into teares ?

Mef. In great meaſure.

Leo. A kinde overflow of kindeneſſe : there are no fa-
cester, then that are fo wath'd, how much better
is it to weep at joy, then to joy at weeping?

Bena. I pray you, is Signior Mountanto return'd from
the warres, or no ?

Mef. I know none of that name, Lady, there was none
fuch in the Army of any fort.

Leo. What is he that you aske for Neece ?

Hero. My Conſin meanes Signior Benedicke of Padua.

Mef. O he's return'd, and as pleafant as ever he was.

Bear. He set up his bils heere in *Messina*, and challeſd Cupid at the Flight : and my Vncles foole reading the Challenge, ſubſorib'd for Cupid, and Challeſd him at the Burbolt. I pray you, how many hath hee kill'd and eaten in theſe warres? But how many hath he kill'd ? for indeed, I promis'd to eate all of his killing.

Leon. 'Faith Neece, you taxe Signior Benedicke too much, but hee'll be meet with you, I doubt it not.

Mef. He hath done good ſervic[e] Lady in theſe wars.

Mef. You had muſt viſchall, and hee hath holp to eate it: hee's a very valiant Trencher-man, hee hath an excellent flomacke.

Mef. And a good ſouldier too Lady.

Bear. And a good ſouldier to a Lady. But what is he to a
Lord?

Mef. A Lord to a Lord, a Man to a Man, ſluft with all honourable vertues.

Bear. It is ſo indeed, he is no leſſe then a ſluſt man : but for the ſtuffing well, we are all mortall.

Leon. You muſt not (ſir) miſtake my Neece, there is a
kinde of merry War betwixt Signior Benedicke and her :
they never meet, but there's a skirnifh of wit betweene
them.

Bena. Alas, he gets nothing by that. In our last con-
fliſt, ſoure of his five wits went halting off, and now is the
whole man govern'd with one: ſo that if hee have wit
enough to keepe himſelfe warme, let him beare it for a
difference betweene himſelfe and his horſe: For it is all
the wealth that he hath left, to be knowne a reaſonable
 creature. Who is his Companion now? He hath every
month a new ſworne brother.

Mef. I'ſt poffible ?

Bear. Very caſily poffible: he weares his faith but as the
fashion of his hat, it ever changes with the next blocke.

Mef. I fee ( Lady ) the Gentleman is not in your
bookes.

Bear. No, and he were, I would burne my ſtudy. But
I pray you who is his companion ? Is there no young
ſquarer now, that will make a voyage with him to the Di-
vell?

Mef. He is moſt in the company of the right noble
Claudio.

Bear. O Lord, he will hang upon him like a diſeafe: he
is ſooner caught then the Peſtilence, and the taker runnes
prefently madde. God helpe the noble Claudio, if he have
caught the Benedicke, it will coſt him a thouſand pound
erere it becur'd.

Mef. I will hold friends with you Lady.

Bear. Doe good friend.

Leo. You'll ne're run mad Neece.

Bena. No, not till a hot January.

Mef. Don Pedro is approach'd.

Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedicke, Balthazar,
and John the Baſiard.

Pedro. Good Signior Leonato, you are come to meete
your trouble : the fashion of the world is to avoyd coſt,
and you encounter it.

Leon. Never came trouble to my houſe in the likeneſſe
of your Grace: for trouble being gone, comfort should re-
maine: but when you depart from me, ſorrow abides,
and happineſſe takes his leave.

I3

Pedro.

Much adoe about nothing.

102

Pedro. You imbrace your charge more willingly: I thinke this is your daughter.

Leo. Her mother hath many times told me so.

Ben. Were you in doubt that you askt her?

Leo. Signior Benedicke, no, for then were you a childe.

Pedro. You have it full Benedicke, wee may gheffe by this, what you are, being a man, truely the Lady fathers her felfe: be happy Lady, for you are like an honourable father.

Ben. If Signior Leonardo be her Father, fhee would not have his head on her shoulders for all Mefisina, as like him as fhe is.

Bear. I wonder that you will still be talking, Signior Benedicke, no body markes you.

Ben. What my deare Lady Difdaine! are you yet li-
ving?

Beat. Is it poffible Difdaine should die, while fhee hath
fuch meet food to feed it, as Signior Benedicke? Courte-
fie it felfe muft convert to Difdaine, if you come in her
prefence.

Bene. Then is Courteſe a turne-coat, but it is cer-
taine I am loved of all Ladies, onely you excepted: and
I would I could finde in my heart that I had not a hard
heart, for truely I love none.

Beat. A deere happeſe to women, they would eſſe
have beene troubled with a pernicious Sutor, I thanke
God and my cold blood, I am of your humour for that, I
had rather heare my Dog barke at a Crow, then a man
ſware he loves me.

Ben. God keepe your Ladifhip ſtill in that minde,
ſo ſome Gentleman or other ſhall ſcape a Predeſtinate
Scratcht face.

Beat. Scratching could not make it worſe, and 'twere
fuch a face as yours were.

Ben. Well, you are a rare Parrat-teacher.

Beat. A Bird of my tongue, is better then a beaſt of
yours.

Ben. I would my horſe had the ſpeed of your tongue,
and ſo good a continuer, but keepe your way a God's
name, I have done.

Beat. You always end with a Iades tricke, I know
you of old.

Pedro. This is the ſumme of all: Leonardo, Signior Clau-
dio, and Signior Benedicke; my deare friend Leonardo, hath
invited you all, I tell him we ſhall fly here, at the leaſt
a moneth, and he heartily prayes ſome occasion may de-
taine us longer: I dare ſware hee is no hypocrite, but
prayes from his heart.

Leon. If you ſware, my Lord, you ſhall not bee for-
ſworne, let me bid you welcome, my Lord, being re-
conciled to the Prince your brother: I owe you all
dutie.

John. I thanke you, I am not of many words, but I
thanke you.

Leon. Pleafe it your Grace leade on?

Pedro. Your hand Leonardo, we will goe together.

Ezekuelt. Manet Benedicke and Claudio.

Claud. Benedicke, didſt thou note the daughter of Signi-
or Leonardo?

Ben. I noted her not, but I lookt on her.

Claud. Is ſhe not a modedt yong Ladie?

Ben. Doe you question me as an honest man should
doe, for my fimpie true judgement? or would you have
me ſpeake after my cuſtome, as being a profefſed tyrant to
their ſexe?

Claud. No, I prethee ſpeake in fober judgement.

Ben. Why yfaith me thinkes fhee's too low for a hie
praise, too browne for a faire praise, and too little for a
great praffe, onely this commendation I can affoord her,
that were ſhe other than ſhe is, ſhee were unhandſome,
and being no other but as ſhe is, I doe not like her.

Claus. Thou think'st I am in ſport, I pray thee tell me
truly how thou lik'st her.

Ben. Would you buy her, that you enquier after her?

Claus. Can the world buy ſuch a Iewell?

Ben. Yea, and a cafe to put it into, but ſpeake you this
with a ſad brow? Or doe you play the flowting Iacke, to
tell us Cupid is a good Hare-finder, and Vulcan a rare
Carpenter: Come, in what Key ſhall a man take you to
goe in the ſong?

Claus. In mine eye, ſhe is the ſweeteft Ladie that ever I
lookt on.

Ben. I can fee yet without Spectacles, and I fee no
fuch matter: there's her Cofin, and ſhe were not poffeſt
with a fury, exceeds her as much in beautie, as the firſt
of May doth the laſt of December: but I hope you have
no intent to turne husband, have you?

Claus. I would ſcare trul ſhy ſelfe, though I had
ſwornetho contrary, if Hero would be my wife.

Ben. Iſt come to this? in faith hath not the world one
man but he will weare his cap with ſuſpition ? ſhall I ne-
ver fee a Batchellor of threeſcore againe ? goe to yfaith,
and thou wift needes thrutth thy neede into a yoke, weare
the print of it, and ſigh away Sundayes : looke Don Pedro
is returned to ſeeke you.

Enter Don Pedro, John the Baſtard.

Pedro. What ſecret hath held you here, that you fol-
lowed not to Leonatoes?

Bened. I would your Grace would conſtraine mee to
tell.

Pedro. I charge thee on thy allegiance.

Ben. You heare, Count Claudio, I can be ſecret as a
dambe man, I would have you thinke ſo (but on my al-
leageance, marke you this, on my allegeance) ſhee is in
love. With whom ? now that is your Graces part: marke
how ſhort his anſwer is, with Hero, Leonatot ſhort
daughter.

Claud. If this were ſo, ſo were it uttred.

Ben. Like the old Tale, my Lord, it is not ſo, nor 'twas
not ſo: but indeed, God forbid it should be ſo.

Claus. If my paffion change not ſhortly, God forbid it
should be otherwife.

Pedro. Amen, if you love her, for the Lady is very well
worthy.

Claud. You ſpeake this to fetch me in, my Lord.

Pedro. By my troth I ſpeake my thought.

Claus. And in faith, my Lord, I ſpoke mine.

Ben. And by my two faiths and troths, my Lord, I ſpeake mine.

Claud. That I love her, I feele.

Ped. That ſhe is worthy, I know.

Ben. That I neither feele how ſhee should bee lo-
ved, nor know how ſhe ſhould be worthy, is the
opinion that fire cannot melt out of me, I wil die in at the
flake.

Ped. Thou waſt ever an obſtinate Heretique in the de-
fight of Beauty.

Claus. And never could maintaine his part, but in the
force of his will.

Ben. That

Much adoe about Nothing.

103

Bene. That a woman conceived me, I thankè her : that she brought me up, I likewise give her moft humble thankes : but that I will have a rechate winded in my forehead, or hang my bugle in an invifible baldrickes, all women shall pardon me : becaufe I will not doe them the wrong to miſtrauft any, I will doe my ſelfe the right to truft none : and the fine is, (for the which I may goe the finer) I will live a Batcheller.

Pedro. I ſhall fee thee ere I dye, looke pale with love,
Bene. Withanger, with fickeneſſe, or with hunger,
my lord, not withlove : prove that ever I looke more
blood with love, then I will get againe with drinking,
picke out mige eyes with a Ballet-makers penne, and
hang me up at the doore of a brothel-houſe for the ſigne
of blind Cupid.

Pedro. Well, if ever thou dooff fall from this faith,
thou wilt prove a notable argument.

Bene. If I do, hang me in a bottle like a Cat, and ſhoot at me, and he that hit's me, let him be clapt on the ſhouſder, and cal'd Adam.

Pedro. Well, as time ſhall try : In time the ſavage
Bull doth beare the yoake.

Bene. The ſavage bull may, but if ever the ſenſible
Benedicke beare it, plucke off the bulles hornes, and fet
them in my forehead, and let me be vildely painted, and
in ſuch great Letters as they write, here is good horſe
to hire : let them ſignifie under my ſigne, here you may
ſee Benedicke the married man.

Claud. If this ſhould ever happen, thou wouldſt bee
home mad.

Pedro. Nay, if Cupid have not ſpent all his Quiver in
Venice, thou wilt quake for this ſhortly.

Bene. I looke for an earth quake too then.

Pedro. Well, you will temporize with the hours, in
the meane time, good Signior Benedicke, repair to Leo-
natoes, commend me to him, and tell him I will not faile
him at ſupper, for indeed he hath made great preparati-
ion.

Bene. I have almost matter enough in me for ſuch an
Embaſſage, and fo I commit you.

Claud. To the tuition of God, From my houſe, if I had
it.

Pedro. The fixt of Inſy. Your loving friend, Benedicke.

Bene. Nay mocke not, mocke not ; the body of your
difcourſe is ſometime guarded with fragments, and the
guardes are but flightly baſted on neither, ere you ſlout
old ends any further, examine your confidence, and fo I
leave you. Exit.

Claud. My Leige, your Highneſſe now may doe me
good.

Pedro. My love is thine to teach, teach it but how,
And thou ſhalt fee how apt it is to learne
Any hard Leſſon that may doe thee good.

Claud. Hath Leonardo any ſonne my lord ?

Pedro. No child but Hero, ſhe's his only heire.
Doſt thou affect her Claudio ?

Claud. O my lord,
When you went onward on this ended action,
I look'd upon her with a ſouldiers eye,
That lik'd, but had a rougher taske in hand,
Than to drive liking to the name of love :
But now I am return'd; and that warre-thoughts
Have left their places vacant : in their roomes,
Come thronging soft and delicate defires,
All prompting me how faire young Hero is,
Saying I lik'd her ere I went to warres.

Pedro. Thou wilt be like a lover prefentely,
And tire the hearer with a booke of words :
If thou doſt love faire Here, cheriſh it,
And I will breake with her : waſt not to this end,
That thov beganſt to twiſt ſo fine a ſtory ?

Claud. How fweetly doe you minifter to love,
That know loves grieſe by his complexion !
But left my liking might too ſodaine ſeeme,
I would have falu'd it with a longer treatife.

Pedro. What need the bridge much broder then the
The faireſt grant is the neceſſity : (flood?
Looke what will ſerve, is fit : 'tis once, thou loveſt,
And I will fit thee with the remedy,
I know we ſhall have revelling to night,
I willaſſume thy part in ſome diſguſe,
And tell faire Here I am Claudio,
And in her boſome Ile unclafpe my heart,
And take her hearing prifoner with the force
And ſtrong incounter of my amorous tale :
Then after, to her father will I breake,
And the conclusion is, ſhe shall be thine,
In practice let us put it prefentely.
Exeunt.
Enter Leonardo and an old man, brother to Leonardo.

Claud. How now brother, where is my cofen your ſon :
hath he provided this muſſike ?

Old. He is very buſe about it, but brother, I can tell
you newes that you yet dreamt not of.

Le. Are they good?

Old. As the event ſtampes them, but they have a good
cover : they ſhow well outward: the Prince and Count
Claudio walking in a thicke pleached alley in my orchard,
were thus over-heard by a man of mine : the Prince dif-
covered to Claudio that he loved my nece your daugh-
ter, and meant to acknowledge it this night in a dance,
and if he found her accordant, he meant to take the
prefent time by the top, and inſantly breake with you
of it,

Leo. Hath the fellow any wit that told you this ?

Old. A good ſharpe fellow, I will ſend for him, and
quention him your ſelfe.

Lea. No, no : we will hold it as a dreame, till it appeare
it ſelfe : but I will acquaint my daughter withall, that the
may be the better prepared for anwer, if peradventure
this be true : goe you and tell her of it : cofins, you know
what you have to doe, O I cry you mercy friend, goe
you with me and I will uſe your skill, good cofin have
a care this buſe time.
Exeunt.

Enter Sir John the Baſtard, and Conrade his companion.

Con. What the good yeere my Lord, why are you thus
out of meaſure ſad ?

John. There is no meaſure in the occafion that breeds,
therefore the ſadneſſe is without limit.

Con. You should heare reaſon.

John. And when I have heard it, what bleſſing brin-
geth it ?

Con. If not a preſent remedy, yet a patient ſufferance.

John. I wonder that thou (being as thou faſt thou art,
borne under Saturne) goeſt about to apply a mortall me-
dicine, to a mortifying miſcheife : I cannot hide what I
am : I muſt be ſad when I have cauſe, and ſmile at no
mans jeſts; eate when I have fromacke, and wait for no
mans leſure : ſleepe when I am drowſie, and tend on no
mans buſineſſe; laugh when I am merry, and claw no man
in his humour.

Con. Yea, but you muſt not make the full ſhow of this
till you may doe it without controllment, you have of
late

Much ado about Nothing.

late flood out against your brother, and he hath tane
you newly into his grace, where it is impoffible you
should take root, but by the faire weather that you make
your selfe, it is needfull that you frame the leafon for your
owne harvest.

John. I had rather be a cairner in a hedge, then a rofe
in his grace, and it better fits my bloud to be difdain'd of
all, then to fashion a carriage to rob love from any in this
(though I cannot be faid to be a flattering heneft man)
it muft not be denied but I am a plaine dealing villaine, I
am trufted with a muffell, and enfranchifde with a clog,
therefore I have decreed, not to ſing in my cage: if I had
my mouth, I would bite: if I had my liberty, I would do
my liking : in the meane time, let me be that I am, and
feeke not to alter me.

Con. Can you make no uſe of your discontent ?

John. I will make all uſe of it, for I uſe it onely.
Who comes here ? what newes Borachio.

Enter Borachio.

Bor. I came yonder from a great ſupper, the Prince
your brother is royally entertained by Leonate, and I can
give you intelligence of an intended marriage.

John. Will it serve for any Modell to build mifcheife
on? What is he for a foole that betrothes himſelfe to un-
quietneſſe ?

Bor. Marry it is your brothers right hand.

John. Who, the moſt exquifite Claudio?

Bor. Even he.

Iohn. A proper ſquier, and who, and who, which way
looks he ?

Bor. Marry on Hero, the daughter and Heire of Leo-
nato.

John. A very forward March-chicke, how come you
to this?

Bor. Being entertain'd for a perfumer, as I was ſmoak-
ing a muſty roome, comes me the Prince and Claudio,
hand in hand in ſad conference: I whipt behind the Ar-
ras, and there heard it agreed upon, that the Prince ſhould
wooe Hero for himſelfe, and having obtained'd her, give
her to Count Claudio.

John. Come, come, let us thither, this may prove food
to my diſpleasure, that young ſtart-up hath all the glory
of my overthrow: if I can croſſe him any way, I bleſſe
my ſelfe every way; you are both ſure, and will affift
me?

Conr. To the death my Lord.

John. Let us to the great ſupper, their cheere is the
greater that I am ſubduced, would the Cooke were of my
mind: ſhall we goe prove what's to be done ?

Bor. We'll wait upon your lordship.

Exeunt.

Actus Secundus.

Enter Leonato, his brother, his wife, Hero his daughter, and Beatrice his neece, and a kinsman.

Leona. Was not Count John here at ſupper ?

Brot. I faw him not.

Beat. How tartly that Gentleman looks, I never can
fee him, but I am heart-burn'd an houre after.

Hero. He is of a very melancholy diſpoſition.

Beat. He were an excellent man that were made juſt
in the mid-way betweene him and Benedicke, the one is too
like an image and fayes nothing, and the other too like
my Ladies eldeſt ſonne, evermore tatling.

Leon. Then halſe Signior Benedicke's tongue in Count
Johns mouth, and halſe Count Johns melancholy in Sig-
nior Benedicke's face.

Beat. With a good legge, and a good foot unclecke, and
money enough in his purſe, ſuch a man would winne any
woman in the world, if he could get her good will.

Leon. By my troth Neece, thou wilt never get thee a
husband, if thou be ſo ſhrewd of thy tongue.

Brot. Inſaith he's too curſt.

Beat. Too curſt is more then curſt, I ſhall leſſen God's
fending that way: for it is faid, God ſends a curſt Cow
ſhort hornes, but to a Cow too curſt he ſends none.

Leon. So, by being too curſt, God will ſend you no
hornes.

Beat. Inſt, if he ſend me no husband, for the which
bleſſing, I am at him upon my knees every morning and
evening: Lord, I could not endure a husband with a beard
on his face, I had rather lye in the woolen.

Leona. You may light upon a husband that hath no
beard.

Beat. What ſhould I doe with him? dřeſſe him in
myapparell, and make him my waiting gentlewoman? he
that hath a beard, is more then a youth: and he that hath
no beard, is leſſe then a man: and he that is more then a
youth, is not for me: and he that isleſſe then a man, I am
not for him: therefore I will even take ſixpence in ear-
neſt of the Berrord, and leade his Apes into hell.

Leon. Well then, goe you into hell.

Beat. No, but to the gate, and there will the Devil
meet me like an old Cuckold with hornes on his head,
and ſay, get you to heaven Beatrice, get you to heaven,
heree's no place for you maids, ſo deliver I up my Apes,
and away to Saint Peter: for the heavens, he ſhewes me
where the Batchellers ſit, and there live we as merry as
the day is long.

Brot. Come, well neece, I truſt you will be rul'd by your fa-
ther.

Beat. Yes faith, it is my cofens duty to make curſe,
and ſay, as it pleafe you: but yet for all that cofin, let
him be a handſome fellow, or cſe make an other curſie,
and ſay, father, as it pleafes me.

Leon. Well neece, I hope to ſee you one day fitted with a
husband.

Beat. Not till God make men of ſome other mettall
then earth, would it not grieve a woman to be overma-
ſtred with a peec of valiant duſt? to make account of
her life to a clod of wayward marle? no uncle, ile none :
Adams fonnes are my brethren, and truly I hold it a finne
to match in my kinred.

Leon. Daughters, remember what I told you, if the
Prince doe ſolicit you in that kind, you know your an-
fuer.

Beat. The fault will be in the muſicke cofin, if you
be not wood in good time: if the Prince be too impor-
tant, tell him there is meaſure in every thing, and ſo dance
out the anſwer, for heare me Hero, wooing, wedding, and
repenting, is as a Scotch jigge, a meaſure, and a cinque-
pace: the firſt ſuite is hot and haſly like a Scotch jigge
(and full as fantaſtically) the wedding mannerly model;
(as a meaſure) ſul of flate and aunchetry, and then comes
repentance, and with his bad legs falls into the cinque-
pace faſter and faſter, till he ſinkes into his grave.

Leona.

Much adoe about nothing.

106

Bene. Troth my Lord, I have played the part of Lady
Fame. I found him here as melancholy as a Lodge in a
Warren, I told him, and I thinke, told him true, that your
grace had got the will of this young Lady, and I offered
him my company to a willow tree, either to make him a
garland, as being forfaken, or to bind him a rod, as be-
ing worthy to be whipt.

Pedro. To be whipt, what's his fault?

Bene. The flat transgression of a Schoole-boy, who
being over-joyed with finding a birds nest, shewes it his
companion, and he fcalles it.

Pedro. Wilt thou make a truſt, a transgression ? the
transgression is in the ſtealer.

Bene. Yet it had not beene amife the rod had beene
made, and the garland too, for the garland he might have
worne himſelfe, and the rod he might have beſtowed on
yoy, who (as I take it) have ſolne his birds neſt.

Pedro. I will but teach them to ſing, and reſore them
to the owner.

Bene. If their ſinging anſwer your ſaying, by my faith
you ſay honeſtly.

Pedro. The Lady *Beatrice* hath a quarrell to you, the
Gentleman that daſt with her, told her ſhe is much
wrong'd by you.

Bene. O the miſuſde me paſt the indurance of a blocke:
an oake but with one greene leaſon, it, would have an-
ſwered her: my very viſor began to alluſe life, and ſcold
with her: ſhe told mee, not thinking I had beene my
ſelſe, that I was the Princes ſeſter, and that I was duſler
then a great thaw, hudling jeſt upon jeſt; with ſuch im-
poſſible conceiſance upon me, that I ſlood like a man at a
marke, with a whole army ſhooting at me: ſhe ſpeakes
poynyards, and every word ſlabbes: if her breath were
as terrible as terminations, there were no living neere
her, ſhe would inſect to the north ſtare: I would not
marry her, though ſhe were indowed with all that *Adams*
had left him before he tranſgreſſ, ſhe would have made
*Hercules* have turnd ſpit, yea, and have cleft his club to
make the fire too: come, talke not of her, you ſhall find
her the infernal Ate in good apparell. I would to God
fome ſcholler would conjure her, for certainly while ſhe
is here, a man may live as quiet in hell, as in a ſanctuary,
and people finne upon purpole, becauſe they would goe
thither, ſo indeed all diſquiet, horror, and perturbation
followes her.

Enter Claudio, and Beatrice, Leonardo, Hero.

Pedro. Looke here he comes.

Bene. Will your Grace command me any ſervice to
the worlds end ? I will goe on the flighteſt arrand now
to the Antypodes that you can devife to ſend me on: I
will fetch you a tooth-picker now from the furtheſt inch
of Asia: bring you the length of *Preſter Iohns* foot: fetch
you a haire off the great *Chams* beard: doe you any em-
baffage to the Pigmies, rather than hold three words
conference, with this Harpy: you have no employment
for me?

Pedro. None, but to defire your good company.

Bene. O God fir, heeres a diſh I love not, I cannot in-
dure this Ladyes tongue.

Pedro. Come Lady, come, you have loft the heart of
Signior Benedicke.

Beat. Indeed my lord, he lent it me a while, and I
gave him ſuſe for it, a double heart for a ſingle one, marry
once before he wonne it of me, with ſalſe dice, therefore
your Grace may well ſay I have loft it.

Pedro. You have put him downe Lady, you have put
him downe.

Beat. So I would not he ſhould doe me, my lord, left
I ſhould preove the mother of foofes: I have brought
Count Claudio, whom you ſent me to ſeeke.

Pedro. Why how now Count, wherefore are you ſad?

Claud. Not ſad my lord.

Pedro. How then ? ſicke?

Claud. Neither, my lord.

Beat. The Count is neither ſad, nor ſicke, nor merry,
nor well: but civill Count, civill as an Orange, and ſome-
thing of a jealous complexion.

Pedro. Iſaith Lady, I thinke your blazon to be true,
though I be ſworne, if he bee ſo, his conceit is ſalſe:
here *Claudio*, I have wooed in thy name, and faire *Hero*
is won, I have broke with her father, and his good will
obtained, name the day of marriage, and God give thee
joy.

Leona. Count, take of me my daughter, and with her
my fortanes: his grace hath made the match, and all grace
fay, Amen to it.

Pedro. Speake Count, tis your Qu.

Claud. Silencio is the perfecte Herault of joy, I were
but little happy if I could ſay, how much? Lady, as you
are mine, I am yours, I give away my ſelfe for you, and
doat upon the exchange.

Bene. Speake coſin, or (if you cannot) ſtop his mouth
with a kiffe, and let not him ſpeake neither.

Pedro. Inſaith Lady you have a merry heart.

Beat. Yea my lord I thanke it, poore ſoole. ſo it keepes
on the windy ſide of care, my coſin tells him in his care
that he is in my heart.

Claud. And fo ſhe doth coſin.

Beat. Good lord for alliance: thus goes every one
to the world but I, and I am fun-burn'd, I may ſit in a cor-
ner and cry, heigh ho for a husband.

Pedro. Lady *Beatrice*, I will get you one.

Beat. I would rather have one of your fathers getting:
hath your Grace ne're a brother like you ? your father
got excellent husbands, if a maid could come by them.

Prince. Will you have me? Lady.

Beat. No, my lord, unleſſe I might have another for
working-dayes, your Grace is too coſily to weare every
day: but I beſeech your Grace pardon me, I was borne
to ſpeake all mirth, and no matter.

Prince. Your ſilence moff ends me, and to be mer-
ry, beſt becomes you, for out of queſtion, you were borne
in a merry houre.

Beat. No ſure my lord, my mother cryed, but then
there was a ſtare daſt, and under that was I borne: co-
ſins God give you joy.

Leona. Necce, will you looke to those things I told you
of?

Beat. I cry you mercy Vncle, by your Graces pardon.

Exit Beatrice.

Prince. By my trotha a pleafant ſpirited Lady.

Leon. There's little of the melancholy element in her
my lord, ſhe is never ſad, but when ſhe ſleepes, and not
ever ſad then: for I have heard my daughter ſay, ſhe hath
often dreamt of unhappinesſe, and wakt her ſelfe with
laughing.

Pedro. Shee cannot indure to heare tell of a husband.

Leon. O, by no meanes, ſhe mockes all her wooers out
of ſuſe.

Prince. Shee were an excellent wife for Benedicke.

Leona. O lord, my lord, if they were but a weeke mar-
ried,

Much adoe about Nothing,

married, they would talke themselves mad.

*Prince.* Count *Claudio*, when meane you to goe to Church?

*Clau.* To morrow my Lord, Time goes on crutches, till Love have all his rites.

*Leona.* Not till Monday, my dearefonne, which is hence a just seven night, and a time too briefe too, to have all things anfuer mind.

*Prince.* Come, you make the head at so long a break- thing, but I warrant thee *Claudio*, the time shall not goe daily by us, I will in the *interim*, undertake one of Her- nicles labours, which is, to bring Signior Benedicke and the Lady Beatrice into a mountaine of affection, th'one with th'other, I would faire have it a match, and I doubt not but to fashion it, if you three will but minifter such affi- flance as I shall give you direction.

*Leona.* My lord, I am for you, though it coft me ten nights watching.

*Claus.* And I my lord.

*Prin.* And you too gentle *Hero*?

*Hero.* I will doe any modeft office, my lord, to helpe my cofin to a good husband.

*Prin.* And Benedicke is not the unhopefulleft husband that I know : thus farre can I Praife him, he is of a noble traine, of approved valour, and confirm'd honeſtly. I will teach you how to humour your cofin, that he ſhall fall in love with Benedicke, and I, with your two helpes, will ſo præſtife on Benedicke, that in deſpight of his quicke wit, and his queaſtie ſtocke, he ſhall fall in love with Beatrice: if we can doe this, Cupid is no longer an Ar- cher, his glory ſhall be ours, for we are the only love- gods, goe in with me, and I will tell you my drift, Exeunt.

*Enter John and Borachio.*

*John.* It is so, the Count *Cianadio* shall marry the daugh- ter of *Leonato*.

*Bora.* Yea my lord, but I can croſſe it.

*John.* Any barre, any croſſe, any impediment, will be medicinable to me, I am ſicke in diſpleasure to him, and whatsoever comes athwart his affection, ranges evenly with mine, how canft thou croſſe this marriage ?

*Bor.* Not honeſtly my lord, but so covertly, that no diſhonesty ſhall appeare in me,

*John.* Shew me briefly how.

*Bor.* I thinke I told your lordship a yeere ſince, how much I am in the favour of Margaret, the waiting gentle- woman to *Hero*.

*John.* I remember.

*Bor.* I can at any uneſcafonable inſtant of the night, ap- point her to looke out at her Ladies chamber window.

*John.* What life is in that, to be the death of this mar- riage?

*Bor.* The poyſon of that lyes in you to temper, goe you to the Prince your brother, ſpare not to tell him, that he hath wronged his Honor in marrying the renowned *Claudio*, whose eſtimation doe you mightily hold up, to a contaminated ſtale, ſuch a one as *Hero*.

*John.* What proofe shall I make of that?

*Bor.* Proſe enough, to miſerve the Prince, to veze *Claudio*, to undoe *Hero*, and kill *Leonato*, looke you for a- ny other ilſue?

*John.* Onely to deſpight them, I will endeavour any thing.

*Bor.* Goe then, find me a meete hour, to draw on *Pedro* and the Count *Claudio* alone, tell them that you know that *Hero* loves me, intend a kind of zeale both to the Prince and *Claudio* (as in a love of your brothers

honor who hath made this match) and his friends repu- tation, who is thus like to be cofen'd with the ſemblance of a maid, that you have diſcover'd thus: they will fearce- ly believe this without triall: offer them inſtances which ſhall beare no leſſe likelyhood, than to fee me at her chamber window, heare me call Margaret, Hero; heare Margaret terme me *Claudio*, and bring them to fee this the very night before the intended wedding, for in the meane time, I will ſo fashion the matter, that *Hero* ſhall be abſent, and there ſhall appeare ſuch ſeeming truths of Heroes diſloyalty, that Jealousie ſhall be call'd aſſurance, and all the preparation ouerthrowne.

*John.* Grow this to what adverſe ilſue it can, I will put it in præſtife: be cunning in the working this, and thy fee is a thousand ducates.

*Bor.* Be thou confitant in the accufation, and my cum- ning shall not ſhame me.

*John.* I will prefently goe learne their day of marri- age.

*Exit.*

*Enter Benedicke alone.*

*Bene.* Boy.

*Boy.* Signior.

*Bene.* In my chamber window lies a booke, bring it hither to me in the orchard.

*Boy.* I am here already fir.

*Exit.*

*Bene.* I know that, but I would have thee hence, and here againe. I doe much wonder, that one man feeing how much another man is a foole, when he dedicates his behaviours to love, will after he hath laught at ſuch ſhallow ſollies in others, become the argument of his owne ſeorne, by falling in love, and ſuch a man is *Claudio*, I have knowne when there was no muſicke with him but the drum and the ſife, and now had he rather heare the taber and the pipe: I have knowne when he would have walkt ten mile a foot, to fee a good armor, and now will he lye ten nights awake carv-ing the ſaſhion of a new dub- let: he was want to ſpeake plaine, and to the purpofe (like an honeſt man and a ſoſdier) and now is he turn'd ortho- graphy, his words are a very ſantaſticall banquet, juſt so many ſtrange diſhes: may I be ſo converted, and fee with the ſe eyes? I cannot tell, I thinke not: I will not bee ſworne, but love may transforme me to an oyſter, but I take my oath on it, till he have made an oyſter of me, he ſhall never make me ſuch a foole: one woman is faire, yet I am well; another is wife, yet I am well: another vertu- ous, yet I am well: but till all graces be in one woman, one woman ſhall not come in my grace: rich he ſhall be, that's certaine: wife, or Ile none; vertuous, or Ile newer eheapen her: faire, or Ile never looke on her: milde, or come not neere me: Noble, or not for an Angell: of good diſcourſe: an excellent Mufitian, and her haire ſhall be of what colour it pleafe God, hah! the Prince and Monſieur Love, I will hide me in the Arbor.

*Enter Prince, Leonardo, Claudio, and Iacke W ilſon.*

*Princ.* Come, ſhall we heare this muſicke?

*Claud.* Yea my good lord: how till the evening is, As hufft on purpofe to grace harmony.

*Prin.* See you where Benedicke hath hid himſelfe?

*Claud.* O very well my lord: the muſicke ended,

We'll fit the kid-foxe with a penny worth.

*Princ.* Come Balthazar, we'll heare that ſong againe.

*Balth.* O good my lord, taxe not ſo bad a voyce, To flander muſicke any more then once.

*Prince.*

Much adoe about nothing.

Prince. It is the witneſſe full of excellency,
To put a ſtrange face on his owne perfection,
I pray thee ſing, and let me wooe no more.

Bath. Because you talke of wooing, I will ſing,
Since many a wooer doth commence his ſuit,
To her he thinkes not worthy, yet he wooes,
Yet will he ſweare he loves.

Prince. Nay pray thee come,
Or if thou wilt hold longer argument,
Doe it in notes.

Bath. Note this before my notes,
There's not a note of mine that's worth the noting.

Prince. Why theſe are very crotchets that he ſpeakes,
Note notes for ſooth, and nothing.

Bene. Now divine ayre, now is his foule ravifht, is it not ſtrange that heepes guts ſhould hale foules out of mens bodies ? well, a horne for my monecy when all's done.

The Song.

Sigh no more Ladies, ſigh no more,
Men were deceivers ever,
One foote in Sea, and one on ſhore,
To one thing constant never:
Then ſigh not ſo, but let them goe,
And be you blishe and bonny,
Converting all your ſounds of woe,
Into bey non, nony.

Sing no more dissies, ſing no more,
Of dumps to diu and heavy,
The fraud of men were ever ſo,
Since ſummer firſt was leavy,
Then ſigh not ſo, &c.

Prince. By my troth a good ſong.

Bath. And an ill ſinger, my lord.

Prince. Ha, no, no, faith, thou ſingſt well enough for a ſhirt.

Bene. And he had beene a dog that ſhould have howl'd
thus, they would have hang'd him, and I pray God his
bad voyce bode no miſchience, I had as leife have heard
the night-raven, come what plague could have come after it.

Prince. Yea marry, doſt thou heare Balthazar ? I pray thee getus ſome excellent muſick: for to morrow night we would have it at the Lady Heroes chamber window.

Bath. The beſt I can my lord,

Exit Balthazar.

Prince. Doe ſo, farewell. Come hither Leonato, what was it you told me of to day, that your Niece Beatrice was in love with Signior Benedicke?

Clau. O I, ſtalke on, ſtalke on, the foule ſits. I did never thinke that Lady would have loved any man.

Leon. No, nor I neither, but moſt wonderfull, that ſhe ſhould ſo dote on Signior Benedicke, whom ſhe hath in all outward behaviours ſemed ever to abhorre.

Bene. Is't poſſible ? ſits the wind in that corner ?

Leon. By my troth my lord, I cannot tell what to thinke of it, but that ſhe loves him with an injured affeſtion, it is paſt the infinite of thought.

Prince. May be ſhe doth but counterfeit.

Cland. Faith like enough.

Leon. O God ! counterfeit ? there was never counterfeit of paſſion, came ſo neere the life of paſſion as the diſcovers it.

Prince. Why what effects of paſſion ſhewes ſhe ?

Cland. Bait the hooke well, the fifth will bite.

Leon. What effects my lord ? ſhe will fit you, you heard my daughter tell you how.

Cland. She did indeed.

Pris. How, how I pray you? you amaze me, I would have thought her ſpirit had beene invincible againſt all aſſaults of affection.

Leo. I would have ſworne it had, my lord, eſpecially againſt Benedicke.

Bene. I ſhould thinke this a gull, but that the white-bearded fellow ſpeakes it: kna very cannot ſure hide himſelfe in ſuch reverence.

Cland. He hath tarie th' infection, hold it up.

Prince. Hath ſhe made her affection knowne to Benedicke?

Leonato. No, and ſweares ſhe never will, that's her torment.

Cland. 'Tis true indeed, ſo your daughter fayes : (shall I, fayes ſhe, that have ſo oft encountered him with ſcorne, write to him that I love him ?

Leo This fayes ſhee now when ſhe is beginning to write to him, for ſhee'll be up twenty times a night, and there will ſhe fit in her ſmocke, till ſhe have writ a ſheet of paper : my daughter tells us all.

Cla. Now you talke of a ſheet of paper, I remember a pretry jeſt your daughter told us of.

Leon. O when ſhe had writ it, and was reading it ever, ſhe found Benedicke and Beatrice betweene the ſheete.

Clau. That.

Leon. O ſhe tore the letter into a thousand halfpence, raild at her ſelfe, that ſhe ſhould be ſo immodest to write, to one that ſhe knew would flout her : I meaſure him, fayes ſhe, by my owne ſpirit, for I should flout him: if he writ to me, yea though I love him, I ſhould.

Cla. Then downe upon her knees ſhe falls, weepes, fobs, beats her heart, teares her hayre, prayes, curies, O weet Benedicke, God give me patience.

Leon. She doth indeed, my daughter fayes ſo, and the extaſſe hath to much overborne her, that my daughter is fometime aſeard ſhe will doe a deſperate out-rage to her ſelfe, it is very true.

Pris. It were good that Benedicke knew of it by ſome other, if ſhe will not diſcover it.

Cla. To what end ? he would but make a ſport of it, and torment the poore Lady worſe.

Pris. And he ſhould, it were an almes to hang him, ſhe's an excellent ſweet Lady, and (out of all ſuſpition,) he is vermtous.

Cla. And ſhe is exceeding wifc.

Pris. In every thing, but in loving Benedicke.

Leon. O my lord, wifedome and bloud combating in ſo tender a body, we have ten proofes to one, that bloud hath the victory, I am ſory for her, as I have juſt cauſe, being her Vncle, and her Guardian.

Pris. I would ſhe had beſtowed this dotage on me, I would have daſt all other reſpects, and made her half ſe my ſelfe : I pray you tell Benedicke of it, and heare what he will ſay.

Leon. Were it good thinke you?

Cla. Hero thinkes ſurely ſhe will dye, for ſhe fayes ſhe will dye, if he love her not, and ſhe will dye ere ſhe make her love knowne, and ſhe will dye if he wooe her, rather than ſhe will bate one breath of her accuſtomed croſſenſe.

Pris. She doth well, if ſhe ſhould make tender of her love,

Much adoe about Nothing,

109

loue',tis very poſſible hee'l conſor it, for the man(as you know all)hath a contemptible ſpirit.

Clau. He is a very proper man.

Prin. He hath indeed a good outward happines.

Clau. 'Fore God, and in my minde very wife.

Prin. He doth indeed ſhew ſome ſparkes that are like wit.

Leon. And I take him to be valiant.

Prin. As Heclor, I aflure you, and in the managing of quarrells you may fee he is wife, for either hee auoides them with great diſcraction, or vndertakes them with a Christian-like feare.

Leon. If hee doe feare God, a muſt neceſſarily keepe peace,if hee breake the peace, hee ought to enter into a quarrell with feare and trembling.

Prin. And so will he doe, for the man doth fear God, howfever it feemes not in him, by ſome large ieaſts he will make : well, I am forry for your niece, ſhall we go fee Benedicke, and tell him of her loue?

Claud. Neuer tell him, my Lord, let her weare it out with good counſell.

Leon. Nay that's impoſſible, ſhe may weare her heart out ſint.

Prin. Well, we will heare further of it by your daugh-
ther, let it coole the while. I loue Benedicke well, and I
could with him would modeſtly examine himſelle, to fee
how much he is vnworthy to haue ſo good a Lady.

Leon. My Lord, will you walke dinner is ready.

Claud. If he do not doat on her vpon this, I will never truſt my expectation.

Prin. Let there be the fame Net ſpread for her, and that muſt your daughter and her gentlewoman carry : the ſport will be, when they hold one an opinion of anothers dotage, and no ſuch matter, that's the Scene that I would fee, which will be merely a dumbe ſhew : let vs ſend her to call him into dinner.

Exeunt.

Bene. This can be no tricke, the conference was ſadly borne, they haue the truth of this from Hero, they ſeeme to pitie the Lady : it ſeemes it ſeemethave the full bent: love me ? why it muſt be requited : I heare how I am cenſur'd, they ſay I will beare my ſelſe proudly, if I perceive the love come from her : they ſay too, that ſhe will rather die than giue any ſigne of affection: I did neuer thinke to marry , I muſt not ſeeme proud, happy are they that heare their detractions, and can put them to mending : they ſay the Lady is faire , 'tis a truth, I can beare them witneſſe : and vertuous, tis ſo , I cannot reprove it, and wife, but for louing me, by my troth it is, no addition to her witte, nor no great argument of her folly; for I will be horribly in love with her, I may chance haue ſome odde quirks and remaines of witte broken on me, becauſe I haue rail'd ſo long againſt marriage: but doth not the appetite alter? a man loves the meat in his youth, that he cannot indure in his age. Shall quips and ſentences, and theſe paper bullets of the braine awe a man from the careere of his humour ? No , the world muſt be peopled. When I faid I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should liue till I were married: here comes Beatrice: by this day, ſhe's a faire Lady, I doe ſpie ſome marks of loue in her.

Enter Beatrice.

Beat. Againſt my will I am ſent to bid you come in to dinner.

Bene. Faire Beatrice, I thanke you for your paines.

Beat. I tooke no more paines for thofe thankes, then you take paines to thanke me, if it had beene painefull ; I would not haue come.

Bene. You take pleafure then in the meffage.

Beat. Yea juſt so much as you may take upon a knives point, and choake a daw with all : you have no ſtomacke lignor, ſare you well.

Exit.

Bene. Ha, againſt my will I am ſent to bid you come in to dinner : there's a double meaning in that : I tooke no more paines for thofe thankes then you tooke paines to thanke me, that's as much as to ſay , any paines that I take for you is as eafie as thankes : if I do not take pitty of her I am a villaine, if I do not love her I am a lew, I will go get her picture.

Exit.

Atus Tertius.

Enter Hero and two Gentlemen, Margaret, and Vrſula.

Hero. Good Margaret runne thee to the parlour,
There flalth thou finde my Colin Beatrice,
Propofing with the Prince and Claudio,
Whisper her care, and tell her I and Vrſula
Walke in the Orchard, and our whole diſcourse
Is all of her, ſay that thon over-heardit vs,
And bid her ſteale into the pleached bower,
Where hony-fuckles ripened by the funne,
Forbid the ſunne to enter : like favourites,
Made proud by Princes, that aduance their pride,
Againſt that power that bred it, there will the hide her,
To liffen to our purpofe, this is thy office,
Beare thee well in it, and leave us alone.

Marg. Ile make her come I warrant preſently. Exit.
Hero. Now Vrſula, when Beatrice doth come,

As we do trace this alley up and downe,
Our talke muſt onely be of Benedicke,
When I do name him, let it be thy part,
To praiſe him more then euer Man did merit;
My talke to thee muſt be how Benedicke
Is ſicke in love with Beatrice : of this matter,
Is little Cupids crafty arrow made,
That onely wounds by heare-ſay: now begin,

Enter Beatrice.

For looke where Beatrice like a Lapwing runs
Cloſe by the ground, to heare our conference.

Vrſ. The pleafant it angling is to fee the fifth
Cut with her golden ores the filuer ſtreame,
And greedily devoure the treacherous baite:
So angle we for Beatrice, who even now,
Is couched in the wood-bine coverture,
Feare you not my part of the Dialogue.

Her. Then go we neare her that her care loſe nothing,
Of the falſe ſweete baite that we lay for it:
No truely Vrſula, ſhe is too diſdainfull,
I know her ſpirits are as coy and wilde,
As Haggards of the rocke.

Vrſula. But are you ſure,
That Benedicke loves Beatrice so intirely?

Her. So faſes the Prince, and my new trothed Lord.

Vrſ. And did they bid you tell her of it, Madam?

Her. They did intreate me to acquaint her of it,
But I perſwaded them, if they lou'd Benedicke,

K

TO

Much ado about nothing.

110

To wif him wraftle with affection,

And never to let *Beatrice* know of it.

*Vrfula.* Why did you so, doth not the Gentleman
Deferve as full as fortunate a bed,
As ever *Beatrice* shall couch upon?

*Hero.* O God of love! I know he doth deferve,
As much as may be yelded to a man:
But nature never fram'd a womans heart,
Of prowder fluffe then that of *Beatrice* :
Difdaine and Scorne ride sparkling in her eye,
Mif- prizing what they looke on, and her wit
Values it selfe so highly, that to her
All matter else feemes weake: she cannot love,
Nor take no shape nor proiect of affection,
Shee is so selfe indared.

*Vrfula.* Sure I thinke so,
And therefore certainly it were not good
She knew his loue, left the make sport at it.

*Hero.* Why you speake truth, I never yet faw man,
How wife; how noble, yong, how rarely featur'd.
But she would (speak him backward: if faire fac'd,
She would fware the gentleman fhou should be her fitter:
If blacke, why Nature drawing of an anticke,
Made a foule blot : if tall, a launce ill-headed;
If low, an agot very vidlie cut:
If speaking, why a vane blowne with all windes,
If silent, why a blocke moved with none.
So turns the fne every man the wrong fide out,
And never gives to Truth and Vertue, that
Which fimpleneſſe and merit purchafeth.

*Vrſu.* Sure, ſure, ſuch carping is not commendable.
*Hero.* No, not to be ſo odde, and from all fathions,

As *Beatrice* is, cannot be commendable,
But who dare tell her ſo ? if I ſhould ſpeake,
She would mocke me into ayre, O she would laugh me
Out of my ſelfe, prefle me to death with wit.
Therefore let *Benedicke* like couered fire,
Conſume away in ſighes, waſte inwardly:
It was a bitter death, to die with mockes,
Which is as bad as die with tickling.

*Vrſu.* Yet tell her of it, sheare what ſhe will ſay.
*Hero.* No, rather I will goe to *Benedicke*,

And confuailè him to fight againſt his paſſion,
And truly Ile devife ſome honeſt flanders,
To ſtaine my coſin with, one doth not know,
How much an ill word may impoſon liking.

*Vrſu.* O do not do your coſin ſuch a wrong,
She cannot be ſo much without true judgement,
Having ſo ſwift and excellent a wit
As ſhe is prifde to have, as to refuse
So rare a Gentleman as ſignior *Benedicke*.

*Hero.* He is the only man of Italy,
Alwaies excepted, my deare *Claudio*.

*Vrſu.* I pray you be not angry with me, *Madame*,
Speaking my fancy: Signior *Benedicke*,
For shape, for bearing argument and valour,
Goes formoft in report through Italy.

*Hero.* Indeed he hath an excellent good name.

*Vrſu.* His excellence did earne it ere he had it:

When are you married *Madame*?

*Hero.* Why every day to morrow, come goe in,
He ſhew thee fome attires, and have thy counſell,
Which is the beſt to furniſh me to morrow.

*Vrſu.* Shee's tane I warrant you,

We have caught her *Madame*?

*Hero.* If it prove ſo, then loving goes by haps,

Some *Cupid* kills with arrows, ſome with traps. Exit.
*Beat.* What fire is in mine cares: can this be true?

Stand I condemn'd for pride and ſcorne ſo much?
Contempt, farewell, and maiden pride, adew,
No glory lives behinde the backe of ſuch.

And *Benedicke*, love on, I will require thee,
Taming my wilde heart to thy loving hand:
If thou doſt love, my kindeneſſe ſhall incite thee
To binde our loves up in a holy band.
For others ſay thou doſt deferve, and I

Believe it better then reportedly.

Exit.

Enter Prince, *Claudio*, *Benedicke*, and *Leonato*.

*Prince.* I do but ſtay till your marriage be consummate,
and then go I toward Arragon.

*Clau.* Ile bring you thither my Lord, if you'l vouchſafe me,

*Prin.* Nay, that would be as great a foyle in the new
floſſe of your marriage, as to ſhew a childe his new coat
and forbid him to weare it, I will onely bee bold with
*Benedicke* for his companie; for from the crowne of his
head, to the ſole of his foot, he is all mirth, he hath twice
or thrice cut *Cupids* bow-string, and the little hang-man
dare not floot at him, he hath a heart as found as a bell,
and his tongue is the clapper, for what his heart thinkeſ,
his tongue ſpeakes.

*Bene.* Gallants, I am not as I have bin.
*Leo.* So ſay I; methinks you are fadder.

*Clau.* I hope he be in love.

*Prin.* Hang him truant, there's no true drop of blood
in him to be truly toucht with love, if he be ſad, he wants
money.

*Bene.* I have the tooth-ach:

*Prin.* Draw it.

*Bene.* Hang it.

*Clau.* You muſt hang it firſt, and draw it afterwards.

*Prin.* What ? ſigh for the tooth-ach.

*Leon.* Where is but a humour or a worme,

*Bene.* Well, every one cannot maſter a grieſe, but he
that has it.

*Clau.* Yet ſay I, he is in love.

*Prin.* There is no appearance of fancie in him, unleſſe
it be a fancy that he hath to ſtrange diſguſeſes, as to be a
Dutchman to day, a Frenchman to morrow: unleſſe he
have a fancy to this foolery, as it appeares he hath, he
is no ſoole for fancy, as you would have it to appeare
he his.

*Clau.* If he be not in love with ſome woman, there is
no beleeving old ſignes, a brufhes his hat a mornings:
What ſhould that bode?

*Prin.* Hath any man ſeene him at the Barbers?

*Clau.* No, but 'the Barbers man hath beene ſeen with
him, and the old ornament of his чecke hath already
ſluft tennis balls.

*Leon.* Indeed he looks yonger than he did, by the lollie
of a beard.

*Prin.* Nay a rubs himſelfe with Ciuit, can you ſmell
him out by that?

*Clau.* That's as much as to ſay, the ſweet youth's in
love.

*Prin.* The greatest note of it is his melancholy.
*Clau.* And when was he want to waſh his face?

*Prin.* Yea, or to paint himſelfe ? for the which I heare
what they ſay of him.

*Clau.* Nay, but his jeſting ſpirit, which is now crept
into a lute-string, and now govern'd by ſtops.

Primet.

Much adoe about Nothing.

III

Priv. Indeed that tels a heavy tale for him: conclude,
he is in love.

Clau. Nay, but I know who loves him.

Prin. That would I know too, I warrat one that knows
him not.

Clau. Yes, and his ill conditions, and in defpight of all,
dies for him.

Prin. Shee shall be buried with her face upwards.

Bene. Yet is this no charme for the tooth-ake, old fig-
nior, walke afide with mee, I have studied eight or nine
wife words to fpeake to you, which thefe hobby-horles
muft not heare.

Prin. For my life to breake with him about *Beatrice*.

Clau. 'Tis even fo, *Hero* and *Margaret* have by this
played their parts with *Beatrice*, and then the two Beares
will not bite one another when they meete.

Enter John the Baftard.

Baft. My Lord and brother, God fave you.

Prin. Good den brother.

Baft. If your leifure ſerv'd, I would ſpeake with you.

Prin. In private?

Baft. If it pleafe you, yet Count *Clando* may heare,
for what I would ſpeake of, concernes him.

Prin. What's the matter?

Bafta. Meanes your Lordship to be married to mor-
row?

Prin. You know he does.

Baft. I know not that when he knowes what I know.

Clau. If there be any impediment, I pray you difco-
ver it.

Baft. You may thinke I love you not, let that appeare
hereafter, & ayme better at me by that I now will ma-
neſſe, for my brother (I thinke, he holds you well, and in
deareneſſe of heart ) hath holpe to effect your enfuing
marriage: ſurely ſute ill ſpent, and labour ill beſtowed.

Prin. Why, what's the matter?

Baſt. I came hither to tell you, and circumftances
shorten'd, (for ſhe hath beene too long a talking of) the
Lady is difloyall.

Clau. Who! *Hero*?

Baſt. Even ſhee, *Leonatoes* Hero, your *Hero*, every
mans *Hero*.

Clau. Difloyall?

Baſt. The word is too good to paint out her wicked-
neſſe, I could ſay ſhe were worſe, thinke you of a worſe
title, and I will fit her to it: wonder not till further war-
rant: goe but with mee to night, you ſhall fee her cham-
ber window entries, even the night before her wedding
day, if you love her, then to morrow wed her: but it
would better fit your honour to change your minde.

Clau. May this be ſo?

Prin. I will not thinke it.

Baſt. If you dare not truſt that you fee, conſeſſe not
that you know : if you will follow mee, I will ſhew you
enough, and when you have ſene more, & heard more,
proceed accordingly.

Clau. If I fee any thing to night, why I ſhould not
marry her to morrow in the congregation, where I ſhold
wedge, there will I ſhame her.

Prin. And as I wooed for thee to obtaine her, I will
joyne with thee to diſgrace her.

Baſt. I will diſparage her no farther, till you are my
witneſſes, beare it coldly but till night, and let the iſſue
ſhew it ſelfe.

Prin. O day untowardly turned?

Clau. O miſchiefe ſtrangely thwarting!

Baſt. O plague right well prevented I ſo will you fay,
when have ſene the tequele.

Enter Dogbery' and his compartner with the watch.

Dog. Are you good men and true?

Verg. Yea, or eſſe it were pitty but they ſhould ſuffer
faluſation body and ſoule.

Dog. Nay, that were a puniſhment too good for them,
if they ſhould have any allegiance in them, being choſen
for the Princes watch.

Verg. Well, give them their charge, neighbour *Dog-
bery*.

Dog. Firſt', who thinke you the moſt deſartleſſe man
to be Conſtable?

Watch. 1. *Hugh Ote-cake* fir, or George Sea-coale, for
they can write and reade.

Dog. Come hither neighbour Sea-coale, God hath
bleft you with a good name: to be a well-favoured man,
is the gift of fortune, but to write and reade, comes by
Nature.

Watch. 2. Both which Maſter Conſtable

Dog. You have : I knew it would bee your anſwere:
well, for your favour fir, why give God thankes; & make
no boaf of it, and for your writing and reading, let that
appeare when there is no need of ſuch vanity, you are
thought here to be the moſt ſenſleſſe and fit man for the
Conſtable of the watch : therefore beare you the lan-
thorne : this is your charge : You ſhall comprehend all
vagrom men, you are to bid any man ſtand in the Prin-
ces name.

Watch. 2. How if a will not ſtand?

Dog. Why then take no note of him, but let him go,
and preſently call the reſt of the Watch together, and
thanke God you are ridde of a knave.

Verg. If he will not ſtand when he is bidded, hee is
none of the Princes ſubjeets.

Dog. True, and they are to meddle with none but
the Princes ſubjeets : you ſhall alſo make no noſit in the
ſtreetes : for, for the Watch to babble and talke, is moſt
tollerable, and not to be indured.

Watch. We will rather ſleep than talke, wee know
what belongs to a Watch.

Dog. Why you ſpeake like an ancient and moſt quiet
watchman, for I cannot fee how ſleeping ſhould offend:
only have a care that your bills be not ſtolne : well, you
are to call at all the Alehouſes, and bid them that are
drunke get them to bed.

Watch. How if they will not?

Dog. Why then let them alone till they are ſober, if
they make you not then the better anſwere, you may ſay,
they are not the men you tooke them for.

Watch. Well fir.

Dog. If you meet a theſe, you may ſuſpect him, by
verteur of your office, to be no true man: and for ſuch
kinde of men, the leſſe you meddle or make with them,
why the more is for your honesty.

Watch. If wee know him to be a thieſe, ſhall wee not
lay hands on him?

Dog. Truly by your office you may, but I thinke they
that touch pitch will be defil'd: the moſt peaceable way
for you, if you do take a theſe, is, to let him ſhew him-
ſelfe what he is, and ſteale out of your company.

Ver. You have bin alwaies cal'd a mercieſull mā partner.

Dog. Truely I would not hang a dog by my will, much
more a man who hath any honeſty in him.

K 2

Verg.

112

Much ado about Nothing,

*Verges.* If you heare a child crie in the night,you must
call to the nurfe, and bid her fill it.

*Watch.* How if the nurfe be aſſeepc and will not heare
us?

*Dog.* Why then depart in peace, and let the childe
wake her with crying, for the ewe that will not heare
her Lambe when it baes, will never anſwer a calfe when
he bleates.

*Verges.* 'Tis very true.

*Dog.* This is the end of the charge: you conſtable are
to preſent the Princes owne perſon; if you meete the
Prince in the night, you may ſtaie him.

*Verges.* Nay birlady that I thinke a cannot.

*Dog.* Five ſhillings to one on't with any man that
knowes the Statutes, he may ſtaie him, marry not with-
out the prince be willing, for indeed the watch ought to
offend no man, and it is an offence to ſtay a man against
his will.

*Verges.* Birlady I thinke it be ſo.

*Dog.* Ha,ah ha,well maſters good night, and there be
any matter of weight chances, call up me, keepe your fel-
lowes counſailles, and your owne, and good night, come
neighbour.

*Watch.* Well maſters, we heare our charge, let us go.
ſitt here upon the Church bench till two, and then all to
bed.

*Dog.* One word more, honest neighbors. I pray you
watch about ſignor Leonatces doore, for the wedding be-
ing there to morrow, there is a great coile to night, a-
diew, be vigilant I beſeech you.

*Enter borachio and Conrade.*

*Bor.* What, Conrade?

*Watch.* Peace, ſir not.

*Bor.* Conrade I ſay.

*Con.* Here man, I am at thy elbow.

*Bor.* Mas and my elbow itcht, I thought there would
a ſcabe follow.

*Con.* I will owe thee an anſwere for that, and now for-
ward with thy tale.

*Bor.* Stand thee cloſe then under this penthouſe, for it
driffels raine, and I will, like a true drunkard, utter all to
thee.

*Watch.* Some treaſon maſters, yet ſtand cloſe.

*Bor.* Therefore know, I have earned of Don Iohn a
thouſand Ducates.

*Con.* Is it poſſible that any villanie ſhould be ſo deare?

*Bor.* Thou ſhould'ſt rather aske if it were poſſible any
villanie ſhould bee ſo rich ? for when rich villains have
neede of poore ones, poore ones may make what price
they will!

*Con.* I wonder at it.

*Bor.* That ſheweth no art unconfirm'd, thou knoweſt
that the fathion of a doublet, or a hat, or a cloake, is no-
thing to a man.

*Con.* Yes, it is apparell.

*Bor.* I meane the fathion.

*Con.* Yes the fathion is the fathion.

*Bor.* Tuff, I may as well ſay the foole's the foole, but
ſeeth thou not what a deformed theſe this fathion is?

*Watch.* I know that deformed, a has bin a vile theſe,
this vii. yeares, a goes up and downe like a gentle-man; I
remember his name.

*Bor.* Did'ſt thou not heare ſome body?

*Con.* No, 'twas the vane on the houſe.

*Bor.* See! thou not (I ſay) what a deformed theſe
this fathion is, how giddily a turnes about all the Hor-

clouds, betweene ſoureſtene & ſiue & thirty, ſometimes
fashioning them like Pharaos ſouldiours in the rechie
painting, ſometime lik god Bels priſes in the old Church
window, ſometime like the ſhaven Hercules in the finirct
worm-eaten tapeſtrie, where his cod-peecce ſeemes as
maſſie as his club.

*Con.* All this I ſee, and ſee that the fathion weares out
more appaſſer then the man; but art not thou thy ſelſe
giddie with the fathion too that thou haſt ſhifted out of
thy tale into telling me of the fathion?

*Bor.* Not ſo neither, but know that I have to night
wooded Margaret the Lady Heroes gentle-woman, by the
name of Hero, ſhe leanes me out at her miſtris chamber-
window, bids me a thouſand times good night: I tell this
tale vildly. I ſhould firſt tell thee how the Prince Clau-
dio and my Maſſer planted, and placed, and poſſeſſed by
my Maſſer Don Iohn, ſaw a far off in the Orchard this
amiable encounter.

*Con.* And thought thy Margaret was Hero?

*Bor.* Two of them did, the Prince and Claudio, but the
divell my Maſſer knew ſhe was Margaret, and partly by
his eathes, which firſt poſſeſt them, partly by the darke
night which did deceive them, but chiefely, by my villai-
nie, which did confirme any ſlander that Don Iohn had
made, away went Claudio enraged, ſiore hee would
meete her as he was appointed next morning at the Tem-
ple, and there, before the whole congregation ſhame her
with what he ſaw o're night, and ſend her home againe
without a husband.

*Watch.* 1. We charge you in the Princes name ſtand.

*Watch.* 2. Call up the right maſſer Conſtable, we have
here recouered the moſt dangerous peece of lechery, that
ever was knowne in the Common-wealth.

*Watch.* 1. And one Deformed is one of them, I know
him, a weares a locke.

*Con.* Maſſers, maſſers.

*Watch.* 2. Youle be made bring deformed forth I war-
rant you,

*Con.* Maſſers, never ſpeake, we charge you, let us o-
boy you to go with us.

*Bor.* We are like to prove a goodly commodity, being
taken up of the ſemens biſs.

*Con.* A commodity in queſtion I warrant you, come
weele obey you.

*Enter Hero and Margaret, and Ursula.*

*Hero.* Good Ursula wake my coſin Bearice, and deſire
her to rife.

*Urfu.* I will Lady.

*Hero.* And bid her come hither.

*Urfu.* Well.

*Mar.* Troth I thinke your other rebato were better.

*Bero.* No pray thee good Meg, Ile weare this.

*Mar.* By my troth's not ſo good, and I warrant your
coſin will ſay ſo.

*Bero.* My coſin's a ſoole, and thou art another, Ile
weare none but this.

*Mar.* I like the new tire within excellently, if the laire
were a thought browner: and your gown's a moſt rare
fashion yfaith, I ſaw the Dutcheſſe of Millaines gowne
that they praeſo.

*Bero.* O that exceeds they ſay,

*Mar.* By my troth's but a night-gowne in reſpect of
yours, cloth a gold and cuts, and iac'd with filver, ſet with
pearles, downe fleeces, ſide fleeces, and skirts, round un-
derborn with a blew with tinfel, but for a fine queint grac-
ſall and excellent fathion, yours is worth ten on't.

*Bero.* God

Much adoe about Nothing.

113

Hero. God give mee joy to weare it, for my heart is exceeding heavy.

Marga. 'Twill be heavier foone, by the waight of a man.

Hero. Fie upon thee, art not afham'd?

Marga. Of what Lady ? of speaking honourably ? is not marriage honourable in a beggar? is not your Lord honourable without marriage ? I thinke you would have me fay, faving your reverence a husband : and bad thinking do not wreft true speaking, Ile offend no body, is there any harme in the heavier for a husband ? none I thinke, and it be the right husband, and the right wife, otherwife 'tis light and not heavy, aske my Lady Beatrice elfe, here she comes.

Enter Beatrice.

Hero. Good marrow Coze.

Bear. Good morrow fweet Hero.

Hero. Why how now? do you fpeake in the fick tune?

Bear. I am out of all other tune, me thinkes.

Mar. Claps into Light a love, (that goes without a burden,) do you fing it and Ile dance it.

Bear. Ye light alove with your heeles, then if your husband have itables enough, you'll looke he shall lacke no barnes.

Mar. O illegitimate conſtruction ! I ſcorne that with my heeles.

Bear. 'Tis almoſt five a clocke coſin, 'tis time you were ready, by my troth I am exceeding ill,hey ho.

Mar. For a hauke,a horſe,or a husband?

Bear. For the letter that begins them all, H.

Mar. Well, and you be not turn'd Turke, there's no more failing by the ſtarre.

Bear. What means the foole trow?

Mar. Nothing I, but God ſend every one their hearts deſire.

Hero. Theſe gloves the Count ſent mee, they are an excellent ſerpume.

Bear. I am ſtuft coſin, I cannot ſmell.

Mar. A maid and ſtuft! there's goodly catching of colde.

Bear. O God helpe me, God helpe me, how long have you proſeit apprehenſion?

Mar. Ever ſince you left it, doth not my wit become me rarely?

Bear. It is not ſeene enough, you ſhould weare it in your cap, by my troth I am ſick.

Mar. Get you ſome of this diſtill'd *cardanus benedictus* and lay it to your heart, it is the onely thing for a qualm.

Hero. Theere thou prickſt her with a thiffell.

Bear. *Benedictus*, why benedictus? you have ſome morall in this benedictus.

Mar. Morall? no by my troth, I have no morall meaſing, I meant plaine holy thiffell, you may thinke perſance that I thinke you are in love,nay birlady I am not ſuch a foole to thinke what I lift, nor I lift not to thinke what I can,nor indeed I cannot thinke,if I would thinke my hart out of thinking,that you are in love, or that you will be in love, or that you can be in love: yet Benedicke was ſuch another,and now is he become a man,he ſwove hee would never marry, and yet now in deſpight of his heart he eates his meat without grudging, and how you may be converted I know not, but me thinkes you looke with your eyes as other women do.

Bear. What pace is this that thy tongue keepeſ.

Mar. Not a falſe gallop.

Enter Vrſula.

Vrſu. Madam, with draw, the Prince, the Count, figſior Benedicke, Don John, and all the gallants of the towne are come to fetch you to Church.

Hero. Helpe to defire me good coze,good Meg, good Vrſula.

Enter Leonato, and the Constable, and the Headborough.

Leonato. What would you with me, honest neighbour?

Conſt. Dog. Mary fir I would have ſome confidence with you, that decernes you nearly.

Leon. Briefe I pray you, for you fee it is a buſie time with me.

Conſt. Dog. Mary this it is fir.

Headb. Yes in truth it is fir.

Leon. What is it my good friends?

Con. Dog. Goodman Verges fir ſpeakes a little of the matter, an old man fir, and his wits are not ſo blunt, as God helpe I would defire they were, but inſaith honest as the skin betweene his browes.

Head. Yes I thanke God, I am as honest as any man living, that is an old man, and no honeſter then I.

Con. Dog. Comparions are odorous, palabras, neighbour Verges.

Leon. Neighbours, you are tedious.

Con. Dog. It pleafes your worſhip to ſay fo, but we are the poore Dukes Officers, but truly for mine owne part, if I were as tedious as a King, I could find in my heart to beſtow it all of your worſhip.

Leon. All thy tediousneſſe on me, ah?

Con. Dog. Yea, and 'twere a thouſand times more than 'tis, for I heare as good exclamation on your Worſhip as of any man in the City, and though I be but a poore man, I am glad to heare it.

Head. And fo am I.

Leon. I would faine know what you have to ſay.

Head. Marry fir our watch to night, excepting your worſhips prefence, have tane a couple of as arrant knaves as any in Meflina.

Con. Dog. A good old man fir, he will be talking as they ſay, when the age is in the wit is out, God helpe us, it is a world to fee: well faid yfaith neighbour Verges, well, God's a good man, and two men ride of horſe, one muſt ride behind, an honest foule yfaith fir, by my troth he is as ever broke bread, but God is to be worſhipt, all men are not alike, alaſ good neighbour.

Leon. Indeed neighbour he comes too ſhort of you.

Con. Dog. Gifts that God gives.

Leon. I muſt leave you.

Con. Dog. One word fir, our watch fir have indeed comprehended two aſpitions perſons, and we would have them this morning examined before your worſhip.

Leon. Take their examination your ſelſe, and bring it me, I am now in great hafe, as may appeare unto you.

Conſt. It ſhall be ſuſſigance.

(Exis.)

Leon. Drinke ſome wine ere you goe: fare you well.

Meff. My Lord, they ſay for you to give your daſſher to her husband.

Leon. Ile wait upon them, I am ready.

Dagh. Goe good partner, goe get you to Francis Seacoale, bid him bring his pen and inkehorne to the Gaoles we are now to examine those men.

Verges. And we muſt doe it wifely.

Dagh. Wee will ſpare for no witne I warrant you:

K3

heere,

114

Much adoe about Nothing.

here's that shall drive some of them to a non-come, only get the learned writer to fet downe our excommunication, and meet me at the Jaile.

Exeunt.

## Atus Quartus.

Enter Prince, Bastard, Leonato, Frier, Claudio, Benedicke, Hero, and Beatrice.

**Leo.** Come Frier Francis, be briefe, onely to the plaine forme of marriage, and you shall recount their particular duties afterwards.

**Fran.** You come hither, my Lord, to marry this Lady.

**Claud.** No.

**Leo.** To be married to her, Frier, you come to marrie her.

**Frier.** Lady, you come hither to be married to this Count.

**Hero.** I doe.

**Frier.** If either of you know any inward impediment why you should not be conjoyned, I charge you on your foules to utter it.

**Claud.** Know you any, Hero?

**Hero.** None my Lord.

**Frier.** Know you any, Count?

**Leon.** I dare make his anfwer, None.

**Claud.** O what men dare do! what men may do! what men daily do!

**Bene.** How now! interjections? why then, some be of laughing, as ha, ha, ha.

**Claud.** Stand thee by Frier, father, by your leave, Will you with free and vnconstrained foule

Give me this maid your daughter?

**Leon.** As freely fonde as God did give her me.

**Claud.** And what have I to give you back, whole worth May counterpoife this rich and precious gift?

**Prin.** Nothing, unleffe you render her againe.

**Claud.** Sweet Prince, you learne me noble thankfullnes: There Leonato, take her backe againe,

Give not this rotten Orenge to your friend, Shee's but the figne and temblance of her honour: Behold how like a maid the blufhes heere! O what authority and shew of truth

Can cunning finne cover it ſelſe withall! Comes not that bloud, as modelſt evidence,

To witneſſe ſimple Vertue? would you not ſware All you that fee her, that ſhe were a maide, By theſe exterior ſhewes? But the ſe is none: She knowes the heat of a luxurious bed:

Her bluſh is guiltineſſe, not modelſie.

**Leo.** What do you meane, my Lord?

**Claud.** Not to be married,

Not knit my foule to an approved wanten.

**Leon.** Deere my Lord, if you in your owne proofe, Have vanquifht the refiſtance of her youth, And made defeat of her virginity.

**Claud.** I know what you would ſay: if I have knowne You will ſay, ſhe did imbrace me as a husband, And ſo extenuate the forehand finne: No Leonato, I never tempted her with word too large,

But as a brother to his fifther, ſhewed Bathfull ſincerity and comely loue.

**Hero.** And ſem'd I ever otherwife to you?

**Claud.** Out on thee feeming, I will write againſt it, You ſeeme to me as Diane in her Orbe,

As chaſte as is the budde ere it beblowne: But you are more intemperate in your blood, Than Uenu, or thofe pampred animalls, That rage in savage ſenſuality.

**Hero.** Is my Lord well, that he doth ſpeake ſo wide?

**Leon.** Sweete Prince, why ſpeake not you?

**Prin.** What ſhould I ſpeeke?

I ſtand diſhonour'd that have gone about, To linke my deare friend to a common ſtale.

**Leon.** Are theſe things ſpoken, or do I but dreame?

**Bast.** Sir, they are ſpoken, and theſe things are true.

**Bene.** This looks not like a nuptiall.

**Hero.** True, O God!

**Claud.** Leonato, I ſtand I here?

Is this the Prince? is this the Princes brother?

Is this face Heroes? are our eyes our owne?

**Leon.** All this is ſo, but what of this my Lord?

**Claud.** Let me but move one queſtion to your daughter, And by that fatherly and kindly power, That you have in her, bid her anſwer truly.

**Leon.** I charge thee do ſo as thou art my childe.

**Hero.** O God defend me, how am I befet, What kind of catechizing call you this?

**Leo.** To make you anſwer truly to your name.

**Hero.** Is it not Hero? who can blot that name With any juſt reproach?

**Claud.** Marry that can Hero,

**Hero.** It ſelſe can blot out Heroes vertue.

What man was he, talkt with you yefternight, Out at your window betwixt twelve and one? Now if you are a maid anſwer to this.

**Hero.** I talkt with no man at that howre my Lord.

**Prin.** Why then you are no maiden. Leonato, I am ſorry you muſt heare : upon mine honor, My ſelſe, my brother, and this griev'd Count Did fee her, heare her, at that howre laſt night, Talke with a rulſian at her chamber window, Who hath indeed moſt like a liberall villaine, Conſeft the vile encounters they have had A thouſand times in ſecre.

**John.** Fie, ſie, they are not to be named my Lord, Not to be ſpoken of,

There is not chaſtity enough in language, Without offence to utter them: thus pretty Lady I am ſorry for thy much miſgovernement.

**Claud.** O Here! what a Hero had ſt thou beene If halſe thy outward graces had beene placed About thy thoughts and confaiſbles of thy heart? But fare thee well, moſt foule, moſt faire, farewell Thou pure impiety, and impious purity, For thee Ie locke up all the gates of Love, And on my eſe-lids ſhall Conjecture hang, To turne all beauty into thoughts of harme, And never ſhall it more be gracious.

**Lea.** Hath no mans dagger here a point for me?

**Beat.** Why how now coſin, wherfore ſink you down?

**Bast.** Come, let vs go: theſe things come thus to light, Smother her ſpirits up.

**Bene.** How doth the Lady?

**Beat.** Dead I think, helpe vnle,

**Hero, why?** Hero, Vncle, Signor Benedicke, Frier.

**Leo.** O Fate ! take not away thy heavy hand, Death is the faireſt cover for her ſhame That may be wifht for.

Beat. How

116

Much ado about Nothing.

Yet, by mine honor, I will deale in this,
As secretly and justly, as your foule
Should with your body.

Leo. Being that I flow in greefe,
The fmallesl twine may leade me,

Frier. 'Tis well confeited, prefently away,
For to strange fores, ftrangely they ftraine the cure,
Come Lady, die to live, this wedding day
Perhaps is but prolong'd, have patience & endure. Exit.

Bene. Lady *Beatrice*, have you wept all this while?

Beat. Yea, and I will weepe a while longer.

Bene. I will not defire that.

Beat. You have no reafon, I doe it freely.

Bene. Surely I do beleeve your fair cofin is wrong'd.

Beat. Ah, how much might the man deferve of mee
that would right her!

Bene. Is there any way to fhow fuch friendlifh?

Beat. A very even way, but no fuch friend.

Bene. May a man doe it?

Beat. It is a mans office, but not yours.

Bene. I do love nothing in the world so well as you, is not that ftrange?

Beat. As if strange as the thing I know not, it were as
poffible for me to fay, I loved nothing so well as you, but
beleeve me not, and yet I lie not, I confefſe nothing, nor
I deny nothing, I am ſorry for my coofin.

Bene. By my ſword *Beatrice* thou lo'v' it me.

Beat. Do not ſwreare by it and eat it.

Bene. I will ſwreare by it that you love mee, and I will
make him eat it that fayes I love not you.

Beat. Will you not eat your word?

Bene. With no ſawce that can be devifed to it, I pro-
teſt I love thee.

Beat. Why then God forgive me.

Bene. What offence fweet *Beatrice*?

Beat. You have ſtayed me in a happy howre, I was a-
bout to proteſt I loved you.

Bene. And do it with all thy heart.

Beat. I love you with ſo much of my heart, that none
is left to proteſt.

Bene. Come, bid me do any thing for thee.

Beat. Kill *Claudio*.

Bene. Ha, not for the wide world.

Bene. You kill me to denie, farewell.

Bene. Tarrie ſweet *Beatrice*.

Beat. I am gone, though I am heere, there is no love in
you, nay I pray you let me go.

Bene. *Beatrice*.

Beat. Infaith I will go.

Bene. We'll be friends firſt.

Beat. You dare eafier be friends with mee, than fight
with mine enemey.

Bene. Is *Claudio* thine enemey?

Beat. Is a not approved in the height a villaine, that
hath flandered, ſcorned, diſhonoured my kinf woman? O
that I were a man ! what, beare her in hand untill they
come to take hands, and then with publike accufation
uncovered flander, unmittigated rancour ? O God that I
were a man ! I would eat his heart in the market-place.

Bene. Heare me *Beatrice*.

Beat. Talke with a man out at a window, a proper
faying.

Bene. Nay but *Beatrice*.

Beat. Sweet *Hero*, ſhe is wrong'd; ſhe is flandered,
ſhe is vndone.

Bene. Bett?

Beat. Princes and Counties ! furely a Princely tefli-
mony, a goodly Count - Comfect, a ſweet Gallant ſure-
ly, O that I were 'a man for his ſake ! or that I had any
friend would be a man for my ſake! But manhood is mel-
ted into curtries, valour into complement, and men are
onely turned into tongue, and trim ones too: he is now
as valiant as *Hercules*, that onely tels a lie, and ſwreares it:
I cannot be a man with wifhing, therefore I will die a wo-
man with grieving.

Bene. Tarry good *Beatrice*, by this hand I love thee.

Beat. Vfe it for my love fome other way then ſwea-
ring by it.

Bened. Thinde you in your foule the Count *Claudio*
hath wrong'd *Hero*?

Beat. Yea, as ſure as I have a thought, or a foule.

Bene. Enough, I am engagde, I will challenge him, I
will kiffe your hand, and ſo leave you : by this hand *Cla-
dio* ſhall render me deere account : as you heare of me,
ſo thinke of me : go comfort your coofin, I muſt ſay ſhe
is dead, and ſo farewell.
Exeunt.

Enter the Conflables, *Borachio*, and the Towne
Clarks in gowns.

Keeper. Is our whole diſembly appear'd?

Coney. O a toole and cufhion for the Sexton.

Sexton. Which be the malefactors?

Andrew. Marry that am I, and my partner.

Coney. Nay that's certaine, wee have the exhibition
to examine.

Sexton. But which are the offenders that are to be ex-
amined, let them come before Maſtible.

Kemp. Yea my ſtryle, let them come before mee, what is
your name friend?

Bor. *Borachio*.

Kemp. Marry write downe *Borachio*. Yours firra.

Con. I am a Gentleman fir, and my name is Conrade.

Kee. Write downe Maſter gentleman Conrade : mai-
ſters, do you ſerve God : maſters, it is proved already
that you are little better than falſe knaves, and it will go
neere to be thought ſo ſhortly, how anſwer you for your
felves?

Con. Marry fir, we ſay we are none.

Kemp. A marvellous witty fellow I affure you, but I
will go about with him : come you hither firra, a word
in your care fir, I ſay to you, it is thought you are falſe
knaves.

Bor. Sir, I ſay to you, we are none.

Kemp. Well, ſtand afide, 'fore God they are both in a
tale: have you writ drowne that they are none?

Sext. Maſter Conſtible, you go not the way to ex-
amine, you muſt call forth the watch that are their ac-
cufers.

Kem. Yea marry, that's the eſtect way, let the watch
come forth; maſters, I charge you in the Princes name,
accufe the ſe men.

Watch 1. This man ſaid fir, that *Don Iohn* the Princes
brother was a villaine.

Kemp. Write down, Prince *Iohn* a villaine: why this is
flat perjurie, to call a Princes brother villaine.

Bor. Maſter Conſtible.

Kem. Pray thee fellow peace, I do not like thy looke, I
promife thee.

Sexton. What heard you him ſay eſſe?

Watch 2. Mary that he had received a thouſand Du-
kates of Don Iohn, for accufing the Lady *Hero* wrong-
fully.
Kem.

118

Much adoe about Nothing,

Win me and weare me, let him anſwere me,
Come follow me boy, come fir boy, come follow me
Sir boy, ile whip you from your foyning fence,
Nay, as I am a gentleman, I will.

Leon. Brother.

Bro. Content your ſelfe, God knows I lov'd my neece;
And ſhe is dead, ſlander'd to death by villaines,
That dare as well anſwer a man indeed,

As I dare take a ſerpent by the tongue.

Boyes, apes, braggarts, Iackes, milke-fops.

Leon. Brother Anthony.

Zrot. Hold you content, what man? I know them, yea
And what they weigh, even to the vmoſt ſcruple,
Scambling, out-facing, ſashion-mongring boyes,

That lye, and cog, and flout, deprave, and ſlander,
Goe antiquely and how outward hidiousneſſe,
And ſpeake of haſe a dozen dang'rous words,
How they might hurt their enemies, if they durſt,
And this is all.

Leon. But brother Anthony.

Ant. Come, 'tis no matter,

Do not you meddle, let me deale in this.

Pri. Gentlemen both, we will not wake your patience,
My heart is ſory for your daughters death:
But on my honour ſhe was charg'd with nothing

But was true, and very full of proofe.

Leon. My Lord, my Lord.

Prin. I will not heare you.

Enter Benedicke.

Leo. No! come brother, away, I will be heard.

Exultant ambo.

Bro. And ſhall, or ſome of us will ſmart for it.

Prin. See, lee, here comes the man we went to ſeeke.

Clau. Now ſignior, what newes?

Ben. Good day my Lord:

Prin. Welcome ſignior, you are almoſt come to part almoſt a ſray.

Clau. Wee had like to have had our two noſes ſnapt off with two old men without teeth.

Prin. Leonato and his brother, what think't thou? had wee fought, I doubt we should have beene too yong for them.

Ben. In a ſalfe quarrell there is no true valour, I came to ſeeke you both.

Clau. We have beene up and downe to ſeeke thee, for we are high proofe melancholly, and would faire have it beaten away, wilt thou nſe thy wit?

Ben. It is in my ſcabberd, I shall I draw it?

Prin. Dooſt thou weare thy wit by thy ſide?

Clau. Never any did ſo, though very many have beene beſide their wit, I will bid thee draw, as we do the minſtrels, draw to pleafure us.

Prin. As I am an honest man he lookes pale, art thou ſicke, or angry?

Clau. What! courage man: what though care kill'd a cat, thou haſt mettle enough in thee to kill care.

Ben. Sir, I haſt meete your wit in the careere, and you charge it againſt me, I pray you chufe another ſubjeſt.

Clau. Nay then give him another ſtaffe, this laſt was broke croſſe.

Prin. By this light, he changes more and more, I think he be angry indeed.

Clau. If he be, he knowes how to turne his girdle.

Een. Shall I ſpeake a word in your eare?

Clau. God bleſſe me from a challenge.

Clau. You are a villaine, I jeſt not, I will make it good how yow dare, with what you dare, and when you dare: do me right, or I will proteſt your cowardife: you have kill'd a ſweete Lady, and her death ſhall fall heavy on you, let me heare from you.

Prin. Well, I will meete you, so I may have good cheare.

Clau. What, a ſaſt?

Prin. I faith I thanke him, he hath bid me to a calves head and a Capon, the which if I do not carve moſt cuſionſly, ſay my knife's naught, ſhall I not finde a wood-cocke too?

Ben. Sir, your wit ambles well, it goes eafily.

Prin. Ile tell thee how Beatrice prais'd thy wit the other day: I faid thou hadt a fine wit; true faies ſhe, a fine little one: no faid I, a great wit: right faies ſhee, a great groſſe one: nay faid I, a good wit: juſt faid ſhe, it hurts no body: nay faid I, the gentleman is wife: certain ſaſe, a wife gentleman: nay faid I, he hath the tongues: that I believe ſaſe, for hee ſwore a thing to me on munday night, which he forſwore on tuesday morning: there's a double touge, there's two tongues: thus did ſhe an howre together tranſſhape thy particular vertues, yet at laſt ſhe concluded with a ſigh, thou waſt the propreſſt man in Italy.

Clau. For the which ſhe wept heartily, and ſaid ſhee car'd not.

Prin. Yea that ſhe did, but yet for all that, and if ſhe did not hate him deadly, ſhe would love him dearely, the old mans daughter told us all.

Clau. All, all, and moreover, God ſaw him, when hee was hid in the ga: den.

Prin. But when I shall we ſet the ſavage Bulls hornes on the ſenſible Benedicke's head?

Clau. Yea, and text vnder-neath, heere dwells Benedicke the married man.

Bene. Fare you well, Boy, you know my minde, I will leave you now to your goſſep- like humor, you breake jeſts as braggards do their blades, which God be thank'd hurt not: my Lord, for your many courtefies I thank you, I muſt diſcontinue your company, your brother the Baſtard is ſled from Muffina: you have among you, kill'd a ſweete and innocent Lady: for my Lord Lackebeard there, he and I shall meete, and till then peace be with him.

Prin. He is in earneſt.

Clau. In moſt profound earneſt, and Ile warrant you, for the love of Beatrice.

Prin. And hath challenging'd thee.

Clau. Moſt ſincerely.

Prin. What a pretty thing man is, when he goes in his doublet and hoſe, and leaves off his wit.

Enter Conſtable, Conrade, and Borachio.

Clau. He is then a Giant to an Ape, but then is an Ape a Doctor to ſuch a man.

Prin. But of ſo, you, let me fee, plucke up my heart, and be ſad, did he not ſay my brother was ſled?

Conſa. Come you fir, if juſtice cannot tame you, ſhe ſhall ne're weigh more reaſons in her ballance, nay, and you be a curling hypocrite once, you muſt be ſookt to.

Prin. How now, two of my brothers men bound? Be-rachio one,

Clau. Harken after their offence my Lord.

Prin. Officers, what offence have theſe men done?

Con. Marrie.

Much adoe about Nothing.

120

*Mar.* Will you then write me a Sonnet in praise of my beautie?

*Bene.* In so high a file Margaret, that no man living shall come over it, for in moft comely truth thou defer-vest it.

*Mar.* To have no man come over me, why, shall I al-waies keepe below flaires?

*Bene.* Thy wit is as quicke as the grey-hounds mouth, it catches.

*Mar.* And yours, as blunt as the Fencers foiles, which hit, but hurt not.

*Bene.* A moft manly wit Margaret, it will not hurt a woman: and so I pray thee call Beatrice, I give thee the bucklers.

*Mar.* Give us the swords, wee have bucklers of our owne.

*Bene.* If you use them Margaret, you muft put in the pikes with a vice, and they are dangerous weapons for Maides.

*Mar.* Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who I thinke hath legges.

*Bene.* And therefore will come. The god of love that fits above, and knowes me, and knowes me, how pittifull I deferve. I meane in ftring, but in loving, Leander the good Swimmer, Troilous the firft imployer of pandars, and a whole booke full of thefe quondam carpet-mon-gers, whose name yet runne smoothly in the even rode of a blanke verfe, why they were never so truly turned over as my poore felfe in love : marry I cannot fhow it rime, I have tried, I can finde out no rime to Ladie but badie innocents rime : for ſcorne, horne, a hard rime: for ſchoole foole, a babling rime : very ominous endings, no, I was not borne vnder a riming Plannet, for I cannot wooe in felttall tearmes:

*Enter Beatrice.*

Sweete Beatrice would't thou come when I cal'd thee?

*Beat.* Yea Signior, and depart when you bid me.

*Bene.* O ſtay but till then.

*Beat.* Then, is ſpoken: fare you well now, and yet ere I go, let me go with that I came, which is, with know-ing what hath palt betweene you and Claudius.

*Bene.* Only foule words, and thereupon I will kiffe thee.

*Beat.* Foule words is but foule wind, and foule winde is but foule breath, and foule breath is noſome, therefore I will depart unſtift.

*Bene.* Thou haſt frighted the word out of his right fence, to forſible is thy wit, but I muſt tell thee plainly, *Claudio* vndergoes my challenge, and either I muſt ſhort-ly heare from him, or I will ſubſcribe him a coward, and I pray thee now tell me, for which of my bad parts didſt thou firſt fall in love with me?

*Beat.* For them all together, which maintain'd to po-litique a ſtate of evill, that they will not admit any good part to intermingle with them: but for which of my good parts did you firſt ſuffer love for me?

*Bene.* Suffer love ! a good epithite, I do ſuffer love in-deede, for I love thee againſt my will.

*Bert.* In ſpight of your heart I thinke, alas poore heart, if you ſpight it for my ſake, I will ſpight it for yours, for I will never love that which my friend hates.

*Bened.* Thou and I are too wife to wooe peace-a-blie.

*Beat.* It appears not in this conſection, there's not one wife man among twenty that will prais himſelfe.

*Bene.* An old, an old infance Beatrice, that liv'd in the time of good neighbours, if a man doe not ereſt in this age his owne tombe ere he dies, hee shall live no longer in monuments, then the Bels ring, and the Wid-dow weepes.

*Beat.* And how long is that thine you?

*Bene.* Quæſtion, why an hower in clamour and a qua-ter in hewme, therefore is it moſt expedient for the wife, if Don worme (his conſcience) finde no impediment to the contrary, to be the trumpet of his owne vertues, as I am to my ſelfe ſo much for prais-ing my ſelfe, who I my ſelfe will beare wittneſſe is praisè worthy, and now tell me how doth your cofin?

*Beat.* Very ill.

*Bene.* And how do you?

*Beat.* Very ill too.

*Enter Vrfuld.*

*Bene.* Serve God, love me, and mend, there will I leave you too, for here comes one in haſte.

*Vrf.* Madam, you muſt come to your Vncle, yonders old coile at home, it is proved my Lady Hero hath bin falſely accuſde, the Prince and Claudio mightily abuſe, and Don Iohn is the author of all, who is fled and gone: will you come prefently?

*Beat.* Will you go heare this newes Signior?

*Bene.* I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be bu-ried in thy eyes : and moreover, I will goe with thee to thy Vncles.

*Exeunt.*

*Enter Claudio, Prince, and three or foure with Tapers.*

*Clau.* Is this the monument of Leonato?

*Lord.* It is my Lord. *Epitaph.*

*Done to death by flsterous tongues,*
*Was the Hero that here lies:*

*Death in guerdon of her wrongs,*

*Gives her fame which never diu:*

*So the life that died with ſame,*

*Lives in death with gloious fame.*

*Hang thou there upon the tombe,*

*Prais-ing her when I am dombe.*

*Clau.* Now muſſick found and fing your ſolemne hymns.

*Song.*

*Pardon goddesse of the night,*

*Thoethas flew thy virgine knights,*

*For the which with ſongs of woe,*

*Round about her tombe they goe:*

*Midnight affift our mone, helpel us to ſigh and groane.*

*Heavely, heavely.*

*Graues yawne and yeelde your dead,*

*Till death be vtered,*

*Heavely, heavenly.*

(this right)

*Lo.* Now unto thy bones good night, yeereely will I do
*Prin.* Good morrow maifters, put your Torches out,
The wolves have preied, and looke, the gentle day

Before the wheeles of Phœbus, round about
Dapples the drowſe Eaſt with ſpots of grey:
Thanks to you all, and leave us, fare you well.

*Clau.* Good morrow maifters, each his ſeveral way.

*Prin.* Come let us hencely, and put on other weedyes,
And then to Leonatoes we will goe.

*Clau.* And Hymen now with luckier illſue ſpeed;

Then

Much adoe about Nothing.

121

Then this for whom we rended up this woe.
Exeunt.

Enter Leonato, Bene. Marg. Urſula, old man, Frier, Hero.

Frier. Did I not tell you he was innocent?

Leo. So are the Prince and Claudio who accus'd her,
Vpon the errour that you heard debated.

But Margaret was in fame fault for this;

Although againſt her will as it appears,
In the true course of all the quellion.

Old. Well, I am glad that all things ſo well.

Ben. And fo am I, being eſſe by faith enſor'd,

To call yong Claudio to a reckoning for it.

Leo. Well daughter, and yong Gentlemen all,

Withdraw intoa Chamber by your ſelves,

And when I ſend for you, come hither mask'd :

The Prince and Claudio promis'd by this houre

To visit me, you know your ſolice Brother,

You muſt be father to your Brothers daughter,

And give her to yong Claudio.
Exeunt Ladies.

Old. Which I will doe with confirm'd countenances.

Ben. Frier, I muſt intreat your paines, I thinke.

Frier. To doe what Signior ?

Ben. To binde me, or undoe me, one of them :

Signior Leonato, truth it is good Signior,

Your Neece reguſs me with an eye of favour.

Old. That eye my daughter lent her, tis moſt true.

Ben. And I do wath with an eye of love reſuite her.

Leo. The fight whereof I thinke you had from me,

From Claudio and the Prince, but what's your will ?

Ben. Your anſwer fir is Enigmatick,

But for my will, my will is, your good will

May ſtand with ours, this day to be conjoyn'd,

I' th ſtate of honourable marriage,

In which good Frier I ſhall define your helpe.

Leo. My heart is with your likings.

Frier. And my helpe.

Enter Prince and Claudio with attendants.

Prin. Good morrow to this faire affltembry.

Leo. Good morrow Prince, good morrow Claudio,

We here attend you, are you yet determin'd,

Today to marry with my brothers daughter?

Clau. Ile hold my minde were ſhe an Ethiope.

Leo. Call her forth brother, heres the Frier ready.

Prin. Good morrow Benedicke, why what's the matter?

That you have ſucha February face,

So full of froſt, of ſtorme, and clow'dineſſe.

Clau. I thinke he thinkes upon the favage bull :

Tuſh, ſea ſe not man, we'll tip thy hornes with gold,

And all Europa ſhall rejoſe at thee,

As once Europa did at luſty love,

When he would play the noble beaſt in love.

Ben. Bull Iove fir, had an amiable low,

And ſome ſuch ſtrange bull leapt your fathers Cow,

A got a Calfe in that fame noble feat,

Much like to you, for you have juſt his bleat.

Enter brother, Hero, Beatrice, Margaret, Urſula.

Cla. For this I owe you: here comes other recknings.

Which is the Lady I muſt feize upon ?

Leo. This fame is ſhe, and I doe give you her.

Cla. Why then ſhe's mine, fweet let me fee your face.

Leon. No that you ſhall not, till you take her hand,

Before this Frier, and ſweare to marry her.

Clau. Give me your hand before this holy Frier,

I am your husband it you like of me.

Hero. And when I liv'd I was your other wife,

And when you lov'd, you were my other husband.

Clau. Another Hero?

Hero. Nothing certainer.

One Hero died, but I doe live,

And furely as I live, I am a maid.

Prin. The former Hero, Hero that is dead.

Leon. Shee died my Lord, but whiles her flander'd liu'd.

Frier. All this amazement can I qualife,

When after that the holy rites are ended,

Ile tell you largely of faire Heroes death :

Meane time let wonder teeme familiar,

And to the chappeil erset us presently.

Ben. Soft and taire Frier, which is Beatrice ?

Beatr. I anſwer to that name, what is your will ?

Bene. Do not you love me ?

Beatr. Why no, no more then reaſon.

Bene. Why then your Uncle, and the Prince, & Claudio,
have beene deceived, they ſwere you did.

Ben. Do not you love me ?

Bene. Troth no, no more then reaſon.

Beatr. Why then my Coſin Margares and Urſula

Are much decei'u'd, for they did ſweare you did.

Bene. They ſwere you were almoſt ſicke for me.

Beatr. They ſwere you were wel-nye dead for me.

Bene. 'Tis no matter, then you do not love me ?

Beatr. No truly, but in friendly recompence.

Leon. Come Coſin, I am fine you love the gentleman.

Claan. And Ile be ſworne upon't that he loves her,

For heres a paper written in his hand,

A halting fonnet of his owne pure braine,

Faſhioned to Beatrice.

Hero. And heeres another,

Writ in my coſins hand, ſtoine from her pocket,

Containing her affection unto Benedicke.

Bene. A miracle, here's our owne hands againſt our
hearts: come I will have thee, but by this light I take
thee for pittie.

Beatr. I would not denie you, but by this good day, I
yeeld upon great perſwafion, and partly to have your life,
for I was told, you were in a consumption.

Leon. Peace I will stop your mouth.

Prin. How doſt thou Benedicke the married man?

Bene. Iet tell thee what Prince : a College of witte-
crackers cannot flout me out of my humour, doſt thou
thinke I care for a Satyre or an Epigram ? no, if a man will
be beaten with braines, a ſhall weare nothing handfome
about him : in bricſe, ſince I do purpofe to marry, I will
thinke nothing to any purpofe that the world can ſay a-
gainſt it: and therefore never flout at me, for I have ſaid
againſt it: for man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclu-
sion: for thy part Claudio, I did thinke to have beaten
them, but in that thou art like to be my kinfman, live un-
bruis'd, and love my coſin.

Cla. I had well hop'd you wouldſt have denied Beatrice, y
I might have cudgell'd thee out of thy ſingle life, to make
thee a double dealer, which out of queſtion thou will be,
if my Coſin do not looke exceeding narrowly to thee.

Bene. Come, come, we are friends, let's have a dance
ere we are marri'd, that we may lighten our own hearts,
and our wives heeles.

Leon. Wee'll have dancing afterwards.

Bene. First, of my word, therefore play muſicke. Prince,
thou art ſad, get thee a wife, get theſe a wife, there is no
ſtaffe more reverend then one tipt with horn. Enter Mef.

Meffen. My Lord, your brother John is tane in flight,
And brought with armed men backe to Messina.

Bene. Thinke not on him till to morrow, ie devife
thee brave puniſhments for him: ſtrike up Pipers. Dance.

L

FINIS.

Loves Labour's loft.

Ferdinand.

Great Deputy, the Welkins O. cegerent, and sole domina-
tor of Navarre, my soules earthes God, and bodies for-
firing Patrone:

Coft. Not a word of Coſtard yet.

Ferd. So it is.

Coſt. It may be ſo: but if he ſay it is ſo, he is in telling true: but ſo.

Ferd. Peace,

Clow. Be to me, and every man that dares not fight.

Ferd. No words.

Clow. Of other mens ſecrets I beſeech you.

Ferd. So it is, beſied with ſable coloured melancholly, I
did commend the blacke oppreſſing humour to the moſt whole-
ſome Physiche of thy health giving ayre: And as I am a Gen-
tleman, be ſtooke my ſelfe to w.ike: the time When? about the
ſixt hour, When Be'st my ſoſt graſe, Birds beſt pecke, and men
ſit downe to that nourijment which is called Supper: So much
for the time When. Now for the ground Which? which I
means I wake upon, it is yeliped, Thy Parke. Then for the
place where? where I meane I did encounter that obſcene and
moſt e poſſerous event that draweth from my now white Pen
the Ebon-coloured Inke, which heere thou viewest, beholdest,
ſurvyeth, or seest. But to the place Where: It standeth
No. to No. the East, and by East from the West corner of thy
curious knotted Garden, There did I ſee that low ſtied
Swaine, that bafe Minow of thy my ſb, (Clowne. Mee?)
that unlettered small knowi & ſoule, (Clow. mc?) that ſhallow
valleſt (Clow. Still M.? ) which as I remember, high Coſtard,
(Clow. O) me, ſed and conſorted contrary to thy eſtablished
proclaimed Ediſt and Continent Canon: Which with, O with,
but with this I paffion to ſay wherewith:

Clo. With a Wench.

Ferd. With a child of our Grandmother Eve, a female;
or for thy more understanding a woman: him, i (as my ever
efſeemed dutei pricks me on) have ſent to thee, to receive the
meed of puiſishment by the ſweet Graces Officer Ancheny
Dull, a man of good repute, carriage, hearing, and estimation.

Anh. Me, an't shall pлеaſe you ? I am A. thony Dull.

Fer. For Iaquenetta (fo is the weaker veſſell called which I apprehended with the aforefaſt Swain, I keep her as e veſſell of thy Lawes ſury and ſhall at the least of thy ſwet notice, bring her to triall. Thine in all complements of devoted and heart-burning heat of auſſis.

Don Adriana de Armado.

Bir. This is not ſo well as I looked for, but the beſt that ever I heard.

Fer. I the beſt for the worſt. But firra, What ſay you to this?

Clo. Sir I conſeſſe the Wench.

Fer. Did you heare the Proclamation ?

Clo. I doe conſeſſe much of the hearing it, but little of the marking of it.

Fer. It was proclaimed a yceres imprifonment to bee taken with a Wench.

Clo. It was taken with none fir, I was taken with a Damofell.

Fer. Well, it was proclaimed Damofell.

Clo. This was no Damofell neither fir, ſhee was a Vir-
gin.

Fer. It is ſo varied too, for it was proclaimed Virgin.
Clo. If it were, I deny her Virginitie: I was taken with
a Maide.

Fer. This Maide will not ſerve your turne fir.

Clo. This Maide will ſerve my turne fir.

Fer. Sir I will pronounce your ſentence: You ſhall
ſaſt a Weeke with Branne and Water.

Clo. I had rather pray a Moneth with h Mutton and Por-
rigde.

Fer. And Don Armado shall be your Keeper.

My Lord Biron, ſee him deliver'd ore,

And goe we Lords to put in practice that,

Which each to other hath ſo strongly ſworne,

Exequem.

Bir. Ile lay my head to any good mans H. t,
These oaths and Lawes will prove an idle ſcorne,
Sirra, come on.

Clo. I ſuffer for the truth fir: for true it is. I was ta-
ken with Iaquenetta, and Iaquenetta is a true Girle, and
therefore welcome the ſowre cup of prosperity, aſſiſion
may one day ſmile againe, and untill then ſit downe for-
row.

Exu.

Enter Armado a Braggart, and Meth his Page.

Brag. Boy, What ſigue is it when a man of great ſpirit
grows melancholly?

Boy. A great ſigue fir, that he will ſlooke ſad.

Brag. Why ? ſadneſſe is one and the ſelfe-fame thing
dere Impe.

Boy. No, no, O Lord fir no.

Brag. How canſt thou part ſadneſſe and melancholly,
my tender Iuvenall?

Boy. By a familiar demonſtration of the working, my
tough Signior.

Brag. Why tough Signior ? Why tough ſignior ?

Boy. Why tender Iuvenall? Why tender Iuvenall?

Boy. I ſpoke it tender Iuvenall, as a congruent epith-
ton, appertaining to thy yong dayes, which we may nomi-
nate tender.

Boy. And I tough Signior, as an appertinent title to
your old time, which we may name tough.

Brag. Pretty and apt.

Boy. How meane you fir, I pretty, and my ſaying apt?
or I apt, and my ſaying pretty ?

Brag. Thou pretty, becauſe little.

Boy. Little pretty, becauſe little: wherefore apt?

Brag. And therefore apt, becauſe quicke.

Boy. Speake you this in my praife Mafter ?

Brag. In thy condigne praife.

Boy. I will praife an Eele with the ſame praife.

Brag. What ? that an Eele is ingenuous.

Boy. That an Eele is quicke.

Brag. I doe ſay thou art quicke in anſweres. Thou
heat't it my blood.

Boy. I am anſwer'd fir.

Brag. I love not to be croſt.

Boy. He ſpeaks the clean contrary, croſſes love not him.

Br. I have promis'd to ſtudy iij yeeres with the Duke.

Boy. You may doe it in an houre fir.

Brag. Impoſſible.

Boy. How many is one thrice told ?

Brag. I am ill at reckning, it fits the ſpirit of a Tapler.

Boy. You are a Gentleman and a Gameſter fir.

Brag. I conſeſſe both, they are both the varnifhs of a
compleat man.

Boy. Then I am ſure you know how much the groſſ
fumme of deuſe-aſe amounts to.

Brag. It doth amount to one more then two.

Boy. Which the bafe vulgar call three.

Br. True.

Boy. Why fir is this ſuch a peecce of ſtudy? Now here's
three ſtudied, ere you'll thrice winke, and how eafe it is
to put yeares to the word three, and ſtudy three yeeres in
two words, the dancing horſe will tell you

Brag. A

Loves Labour's loft.

Brag. A moſt fine figure.

Boy. To Prove you a Cypher.

Brag. I will hereupon confefle I am in love: and as it is bate for a Souldier to love; so am I in love with a bate Wench. If drawing my ſword againſt the humour of affection, would deliver mee from the reprobate thought of it, I would take Deſire prifoner, and ranſome him to any French Courtier for a new deviſ'd curſeſe. I thinke ſcorne to ſigh, me thinkes I should outſwear Cupid. Comfort me Boy, What great men have beene in love?

Boy. Hercules, Maſter.

Brag. Moſt sweet Hercules: more authority deare Boy, name more; and sweet my childe let them bee 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 love.

Brag. O well-knit Sampſon, ſtrong joynted Sampſon; I doe excell thee in my Rapier, as much as thou didst mee in carrying gates. I am in love too. Who was Sampſons Love my deare Moth ?

Boy. A woman, Maſter.

Brag. Of what complexion?

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

Brag. Tell me precifely of what Complexion?

Boy. Of the Sea-water Greene fir.

Brag. Is that one of the ſoure complexions?

Boy. As I have read fir, and the beſt of them too.

Brag. Greene indeed is the colour of Lovers: but to have a Love of that colour, me thinkes Sampſon had ſmall reaſon for it. He ſurely affected her for her wit.

Boy. It was ſo fir, for he had a Greene fir.

Brag. My Love is moſt immaculate white and red.

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

Brag. Define, define, well educated infant.

Boy. My fathers witter, and my mothers tongue affit mee.

Brag. Sweet invocation of a childe, moſt pretty and patheticaſ.

Boy. If the be made of white and red,

Her faults will ne're be knowne:

For blushing cheekes by faults are bred,

And feares by pale white ſhowne:

Then if the ſeare, or be to blame,

By this you (hall) not knowe,

For still her cheekes poffeſſe the ſame,

Which native 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 ſerve for the writing, nor the tune.

Brag. I will have that ſubject newly writ ore, that I may example my digrefſion by ſome mighty preſident. Boy, I doe love that Countrey Girle that I tooke in the Parke with the rationall Hinde Costard: ſhee deſerves well.

Boy. To be whip'd: and yet a better Love then my Maſter.

Brag. Sing Boy, my ſpirit growes heavy in love.

Boy. And that's great marvell, loving a light Wench.

Brag. I ſay ſing.

Boy. For beare till this company be paſt.

Enter Clowne, Conſtable, and Wench.

Conſt. Sir, the Dukes pleafure, is that you keepe Coſtard a ſafe, and you muſt let him take no delight, nor no pennance, but he muſt ſaſt three dayes a weeke: for this Damſell, I muſt keepe her at the Parke; ſhee is allow'd for the Day-woman. Fare you well.

Exit.

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

Maid. Man.

Brag. I will visit thee at the Lodg.

Maid. That's here by.

Brag. I know where it is ſituate.

Maid. Lord how wife you are !

Brag. I will tell thee wonders.

Maid. With that face?

Brag. I love thee.

Maid. So I heard you ſay.

Brag. And so farewell.

Maid. Faire weather after you.

Come Iaquenetta, away.

Exenent.

Brag. Villaine, thou ſhalt faſt 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 heavily puniſhed.

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

Con. Take away this Villaine, ſhut him up.

Boy. Come you tranſgreſſing ſclave, away.

Clo. Let me not be pent up fir, I will be ſaſt being looke.

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

Clo. Well, if ever I doe fee the merry dayes of deſolation that I have ſeene, ſome ſhall fee.

Boy. What ſhall ſome fee?

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

Exit.

Brag. I doe affect the very ground (which is bate) where her ſhooe (which is bater) guided by her ſoore (which is bafeſt) doth tread. I ſhall be forſworne (which is a great argument of falſhood) if I love. And how can that be true love, which is falſely attempted? Love is a familiar, Love is a Divell. There is no evill Angell but Love, yet Sampſon was ſo ſtempted, and hee had an excellent ſtrength: Yet was Salomon ſo ſeduced, and hee had a very good wit. Cupids But-ſaſt is too hard for Hercules Clubbe, and therefore too much oddes for a Spaiiards Rapier: The firſt and ſecond caufe will not serve my turne: the Paſſado hee respects not, the Duello hee regards not; his diſgrace is to bee called Boy, but his glory is to ſubdue men. Adue Valour, ruſt Rapier, bee till Drum, for your maner is in love: yea, hee loveth. Aſtift me ſome extemporal god of Rime, for I am ſure I ſhall turne Sonnet. Devife Wit, write Pen, for I am for whole volumes in folio.

Finis Actus Primi.

L3

Actus.

Loves Labour's lost.

Actus Secunda.

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

Boyet. Now Madam summon up your dearest spirits,
Confider whom the King your Father fends:
To whom he fends, and what's his Embaffie.
Your ſelfe, held precious in the worlds eſteeme;
To parlee with the ſole inheritour
Of all perfections that a man may owe,
Matclette Navarre : the plea of no leſſe weight
Than Aquitaine, a Downie for a Queene.
Be now as prodigall of all deare grace,
As Nature was in making Graces deare,
When he did starve the generall world beſide;
And prodigally gave them all to you.
Prin. Good L. Boyet, my beauty though but meane,
Needes not the painted flourish of your praigne :
Beauty is bought by judgement of the eye,
Not uttred by bare ſale of Chapmens tongues :
I am leſſe proud to heare you tell my worth,
Then you much willing to be counted wife,
In ſpending thus your wit in praigne of mine.
But now to taske the tasker, good Boyet,
You are not ignorant, all-telling fame
Doth noyſe abroad Navarre hath made a vow,
Till painefull ſtudy ſhall out-ware three yeares,
No woman may approach his filent Court :
Therefore to's feemeth it a needfull courſe,
Before we enter his forbidden Gates,
To know his pleasure, and in that behalfe
Bold of your worthineſſe, we ſingle you,
As our beſt moving faire Soliciter :
Tell him the Daughter of the King of France,
On ferious buſineſſe, craving quicke diſpatch,
Importunes perſonall conference with his Grace.
Halſe, ſignifie ſo much, while we attend,
Like humble vifag'd Sutors his high will.
Boyet. Proud of employment, willingly I goe. Exit,
Prin. All pride is willing pride, and your's is ſo:
Who are the Votaries my loving Lords, that are vow-
fellowes with this vertuous Duke ?
Lor. Longavile is one.
Prin. Know you the man?
1 Lad. I knew him Madam at a marriage Feaſt,
Betweene L. Perigore and the beauteous heire
Of Jaques Fauconbridge ſolemnized.
In Normandy ſaw I this Longavile,
A man of koveraigne parts he is eſteem'd :
Well fitted in the Arts, glorious in Armes :
Nothing becomes him ill that he would well.
The onely foyle of his faire vertues gloſſe,
(If vertues gloſſe will ſtaine with any ſoyle,)
Is a ſharpe wit match'd with too blunt a will :
Whofe edge hath power to cut, whole ſill fill wils,
It ſhould none ſpare that come within his power.
Prin. Some merry mocking Lord belike, iſt fo ?
Lad. 1. They ſay ſo moſt, that moſt his humors know.
Prin. Such short liv'd wits doe wither as they grow.
Who are the reſt?
2. Lad. The yong Damaine, a well accompliſh'd youth,

Of all that Vertue love, for Vertue loved.
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 he had no wit.
I faw him at the Duke Alanzoes once,
And much too little of that good I faw,
Is my report to his great worthineſſe.
Rofa. Another of theſe Students at that time,
Was there with him, as I have heard a truth.
Birone they call him, but a merrier man,
Within the limit of becoming mirth,
I never ſpent an hourestalke withall.
His eye begets occasion for wit,
For every object that the one doth catch,
The other turnesto a mirth-moving jeſt.
Which his faire tongue (conceits Expofitor)
Delivers in ſuch apt and gracious words,
That aged eares play Trewant at his Tales,
And yonger hearings are quite ravified.
So ſweet and voluble is his diſcourſe.
Prin. God bleſſe my Ladies, are they all in love?
That every one her owne hath garniſhed,
With ſuch bedecking ornaments of praigne.
Ma. Heere comes Boyet.

Enter Boyet.

Prin. Now, what admittance Lord?

Boyet. Navarre had notice of your faire approach;
And he and his Competitors in oath,
Were all addreſt to meete you gentle Lady
Before I came : Marry thus I have learnt,
He rather meanes to lodge you in the field,
Like one that comes here to beſiege his Court,
Than feeke a diſpenſation for his oath :
To let you enter his unpeopled houſe.

Enter Navarre, Longavile, Dumaine, and Birone.

Heere comes Navarre.

Nav. Faire Princesſe, welcome to the Court of Navarre.
Prin. Faire I give you backe againe, and welcome I
have not yet : the roofe of this Court is too high to be
yours, and welcome to the wide fields, too bafe to be
mine.

Nav. You ſhall be welcome Madam to my Court.

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

Nav. Heare me deare Lady, I have ſworne an oath.

Prin. Our Lady helpe my Lord, hee'l be forſworne.

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

Prin. Why, will he ſtall breake it will, and nothing eſt.

Nav. Your Ladiſhip is ignorant what it is.

Prin. Were my Lord ſo, his ignoronce were wife,
Where now his knowledge muſt prove ignoronce.

I heare your Grace hath ſworne our Houſ-keeping :

*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.

Vouchſaſe to reade the purpofe of my comming,
And ſodainely reſolve me in my ſuite.

Nav. Madam, I will, if ſodainly I may.

Prin. You will the ſooner that I were away,
For you'll prove perjur'd if you make me ſlay.

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

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

Bir. 1

Loves Labour's loft.

127

Bir. I know you did;
Rofa. How needlefle was it then to aske the queftion ?
Bir. You muft not be so quicke.
Ro. 'Tis long of you that spur mee with such queftions.
Bir. Your wit's too hot, it speeds too faſt, 'twill tire.
Raſo. Not till it leave the Rider in the mire.
Bir. What time a day ?
Rofa. The houre that fooles should aske.
Bir. Now faire befall your maske.
Rofa. Faire fall the face it covers.
Bir. And fend you many lovers.
Rofa. Amen, so you be none.
Bir. Nay then will I be gone.
Fer. Madame, your father heere doth intimate,
The paiment of a hundred thoufand Crownes,
Being but th'one halfe, of an intire ſumme,
Disburfed by my father in his warres.
But ſay that he, or we, as neither have
Receiv'd that ſumme; yet there remaines unpaid
A hundred thoufand more : in ſurety of the which,
One part of _Aquitaine_ is bound to us,
Although not valued to the moneys worth.
If then the King your father will restore
But that one halfe which is unsatisfied,
We will give up our right in _Aquitaine_,
And hold faire friendſhip with his Majeſtye :
But that it ſeemes he little purpofeth,
For here he doth demand to have repaid,
An hundred thoufand Crownes, and not demands
One paiment of a hundred thoufand Crownes,
To have his title live in _Aquitaine_.
Which we much rather had depart withall,
And have the money by our father lent,
Then _Aquitaine_, ſo guied as it is.
Deare Princeſſe, 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 ſatisfied to France againe.
Prin. You doe the King my Father too much wrong,
And wrong the reputation of your name,
In ſo unfeeming to confefſe receit
Of that which hath ſo faithfully beene paid.
Fer. I doe proteſt I never heard of it,
And if you prove it, Ile repay it backe,
Or yced up _Aquitaine_.
Prin. We arreſt your word :
Beyet, you can produce acquittances
For ſuch a ſumme, from ſpeciall Officers,
Of Charles his Father.
Fer. Satisſe me ſo.
Beyet. So pleafe your Grace, the packet is not come
Where that and other ſpecialties are bound,
To morrow you ſhall have a fight of them.
Fer. It ſhall ſuſſice me at which interview,
All liberall reaſon would I yeeld unto :
Meane time, receive ſuch welcome at my hand,
As Honour, without breach of Honor may
Make tender of, to thy true worthineſſe.
You may not come faire Princeſſe in my gates,
But heere without you ſhall be ſo receiv'd,
As you ſhall decme 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 and faire deſires confort your grace.
Fer. Thy owne wifh, wifh I thee, in every 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 blond.
Boy. Would that doe it good?
La. Ro. My Phificke ſayes I.
Bo. Will your prick't with your eye.
La. Ro. No poynt, with my knife.
Boy. Now God have thy life.
La. Ro. And yours from long living.
Bir. I cannot stay thankſ giving.
Exit.

Enter Dumaine.
Dum. Sir, I pray you a word: what Lady is that fame?
Boy. The heire of _Alanſon_, _Rofalin_ her name.
Dum. Agallant Lady, Mounſier fare you well.
Enter Longavile.
Long. I beſeech you a word: what is ſhe in the white?
Boy. A woman ſometimes, if you ſaw her in the light.
Long. Perchancelight in the light: I deſire her name.
Boy. She hath but one for her ſelfe,
To deſire that were a ſhame.
Lon. Pray you fir, whoſe daughter?
Boy. Her mothers, I have heard.
Long. Gods bleſſing a your beard.
Boy. Good fir be not offended,
She is an heire of _Faulconbridge_.
Long. Nay, my choller is ended.
Shee is a molſt ſweet Lady.
Exit. Long.
Boy. Not unlike fir, that may be.
Enter Birone.
Bir. What's her name in the cap.
Boy. Katherine by good hap.
Bir. Is ſhe wedded, or no.
Boy. To her will fir, or ſo.
Bir. You are welcome fir, adiew.
Boy. Fare well to me fir, and welcome to you.
Exit.
La. Ma. That laſt is _Birone_, the mery mad-cap Lord.
Not a word with him, but a jeſt.
Boy. And every jeſt but a word.
Bri. It was well done of you to take him at his word.
Boy. I was as willing to grapple, as he was to boord.
Lad. Ma. Two hot Sheepes mary;
And wherefore not Ships? (lips)
Boy. No ſhcepe (ſweet Lamb) unleſſe we feed on your
La. You ſhcepe and I paſture: ſhall that finiſh the jeſt?
Boy. So you grant paſture for me.
La. Not ſo gentle beaſt.
My lips are no Common, though ſeverall they be.
Boy. Belonging to whom?
La. To my fortunes and me.
Prin. Good wits will be jangling, but gentles agree.
This civill warre of wits were much better uſed
On _Navar_ and his bookemen, for heere'tis abus'd.
Boy. If my obſervation (which very ſeldome lyes
By the hearts ſtill rhetoricke, diſcloſed with eyes)
Deceive me not now, _Navar_ is infected.
Prin. With what ?
Boy. With that which we Lovers intitle aſſaſted.
Prin. Your reaſon.
Boy. Why all his behaviours doe make their retire,
To the court of his eye, peeping thorough deſire.
His heart like an Agot with your print imprefled,
Proud

?
ce ?
Bir. I

Loves Labour's loft.

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

Arma. Come hither, come hither:
How did this argument begin?

Boy. By faying that a Costard was broken in a finn.
Then cal'd you for the Lenvoy.

Clow. True, and I for a Plantan :

Thus came your argument in :

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

Arma. But tell me: How was there a Costard broken
in a finn?

Pag. I will tell you fencibly.

Clow. Thou haft no feeling of it Moth,

I will fpeake that Lenvoy.

I Costard running out, that was safely within,
Fell over the threshold, and broke my finn.

Arm. We will talke no more of this matter.

Clow. Till there be more matter in the finn.

Arm. Sirra Costard, I will infranchife thee.

Clow. O, marry me to one Francis, I smell some Len-
voy, fome Goofe in this.

Arms. By my fweet fonde, I meane, fetting thee at liberty.
Enfreeding thy perſon; thou wert Immured, refrained,
captivated, bound.

Clow. True, true, and now you will be my purgation,
and let me loofe.

Arms. I give thee thy liberty, fet thee from durance,
and in lieu thereof, impofe on thee nothing but this:
Bear this significant to the country Maide Iaquenetta:
there is remuneration, for the beſt ward of mine honors
is rewarding my dependants. Moth, follow.— Exit.

Pag. Like the ſequell I.

Signeur Costard adew.

Exit.

Clow. My fweet ounce of mans ſleth, my in-cony Iew:
Now will I looke to his remuneration.

Remuneration, O, that's the Latine word for three-farthings: There-farthings remuneration, What's the price of this yncle ? I.d.no, He give you a remuneration: Why? It carries it remuneration : Why? It is a fairer name then a French-Crowne. I will never buy and fell out of this word.

Enter Birone.

Bir. O my good knave Costard, exceedingly well met.

Clow. Pray you fir, How much Carnation Ribbon may
a man buy for a remuneration ?

Bir. What is a remuneration ?

Cost. Marry fir, halfe penny farthing.

Bir. O, Why then three farthings worth of Silke.

Cost. I thanke your worſhip, God be wy you.

Bir. O ſlay ſlave, I muſt employ thee:

Asthou wilt win my favour, good my knave,
Doe one thing for me that I ſhall intreate.

Clow. When would you have it done fir ?

Bir. O this after-noone.

Clow. Well, I will doe it fir : Fare you well.

Bir. O thou knoweſt not what it is.

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

Bir. Why villaine thou muſt know firſt.

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

Bir. It muſt be done this after-noone,
Harke ſlave, it is but this:

The Princeſſe comes to hunt here in the Parke,

And in her traine there is a gentle Lady:

When tongues ſpeake fweetly, then they name her name,
And Rosaline they call her, aske for her :

And to her white hand fee thou doe commend

This feal'd up confaile. There's thy guerdon: goe.

Clo. Guerdon, O fweet guerdon, better then remuneration, a levenpence-farthing better : moſt fweet guerdon. I will doe it fir in print : guerdon, remuneration.

Exit.

Bir. O ! and I forſooth in love, I that have beene loves whip ?

A very Beadle to a humerous ſigh: A Criticke,
Nay, a night-watch Conſtable.

A domineering pedant ore the Boy,

Then whom no mortall ſo magnificent.

This wimpled, whyming, purblind walward Boy,

This ſignior Junios gyant dwarſe, don Cupid,

Regent of Love-rimes, Lord of folded armes,

Th'annointed ſoveraigne of ſighes and groanes :

Liedge of all loyterets and mal contents :

Dread Prince of Plackets, King of Codpeeces.

Sole Emperator and great generall

Of trotting Parrators (O my little heart.)

And I to be a Corporall of his field,

And weare his colours like a Tumblers hoope?

What? I love ! I ſue ! I ſeeke a wife,

A woman, that is like a Germane Clocke,

Still a repairing : ever out of frame,

And never going a right, being but a Watch :

But being watcht, that it may still goe right.

Nay, to be perjurde, which is worl't of all :

And among three, to love the worſt of all,

A whity wanton, with a velvet brow.

With two pitch bals flucke in her face for eyes.

I, and by heaven, one that will doe the deed,

Though Argu were her Eunuch and her guarde.

And I to ſigh for her ! to watch for her !

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

That Cupid will impoſe for my neglect,

Of his almighty dreadfull little might.

Well, I will love, write, ſigh, pray, ſue, and grone,

Some men muſt love my Lady, and fome lore.

Actus Quartus.

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

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

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

Prin. Who ere a was, a ſhew'd a mounting mind :

Well Lords, to day we ſhall have our dispatch,
On Saturday we will returne to France.

Then Forreſter my friend, Where is the Buff

That we muſt ſtand and play the murtherer in ?

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

Prin. I thanke my beauty, I am faire that ſhoote,

And thereupon thou ſpeak'st at the faireſt ſhoote.

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

Prin. What, what? First pralſe me, then againe ſay no.
O ſhore liv'd pride. Not faire ? alacke for woe.

For. Yes

Loves Labour's loft.

131

Rosa. 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 moft pleafant, how both did fit it.

Mar. A marke marveilous well ſhot, for they both did hit.

Boy. A marke, O marke but that marke : a marke fayes my Lady.

Let the marke have a pricke in't, to meate at, if it may be.

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

Clo. Indeed a'nauf hoothe nearer , or hecule ne're hit the clouf.

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

Clo. Then will ſhe get the upſhoot by cleaving the Pin.

Mar. 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 Oule.

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 fweete jeſts, moſt incony vulgar wit,
When it comes ſo smoothly off, ſo obſcencely, as it were,
ſo fit.

Armado atho'tide, O a moſt dainty man.

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

To fee him kiffe his hand, and how moſt fweetly a will ſware:

And his Page at other fide, that handfull of wit,

Ah heavens, it is a moſt patheticall nit.

Sowla, fowlaw.

Exeunt.

Showte within.

Enter Dull, Holofernes, the Pedant, and Nathaniel.

Nath. Very reverent ſport truely, and done in the teſtſi-
mony of a good confience.

Fed. The Deare was (as you know) ſanguis in blood,
ripe as a Pomwater, who now hangeth like a Iewell in
the care of Cela the sky : the welken the heaven, and a-
non falſeth like a Crab on the face of Terra, the ſoyle, the
land, the earth.

Curat. Naib. Truly Maſter Holoſernes, the epythites are
ſweetly varied like a ſcholler at the leaſt : but fir I allure
yee, it wasa Bucke of the firſt head.

Hol. Sir Nathaniel, hand credo.

Dul. 'Twas not a band credo, 'twasa Pricket.

Hol. Moſt barbarous intimation : yet a kind of infi-
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 undreffed, unpoliſhed, uneduca-
ted, unpruned, untrained, or rather unlettered, or rathet-
reſt unconfirmed fashion, to infert againe my band credo
for a Deare.

Du'. I faid the Deare was not a band credo, 'twas a Pri-
ket.

Hol. Twice ſed ſimplicity, bis coſtus, O thou mon-
fter ignorance, how deformed dooſt thou looke?

Nath. Sir he hath never ſed of the dainties that are
bred in a booke.

He hath not eate paper as it were :

He hath not drunke inke.

His intelleſt is not repleniſhed, he is onely an animall,
onely ſenſible in the duller parts : and ſuch barren plants
are ſet before us, that we thanke full ſhould be: which we
taſte and feeling, are for thofe parts that doe fructiſe in us
more then he.

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

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

But omne bene ſay I, being of an old Father's mind,
Many can brooke the weather, that love not the wind.

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

Hol. Diſliſima goodman Dull, Diſliſima goodman
Dull.

Dull. What is diſliinna?

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 five-weekes when he came to five-
Th'alluſion holds in the Exchange.

Dul. 'Tis true indeed, the Colluſion holds in the Ex-
change.

Hol. God comfort thy capacity, I ſay th'alluſion holds
in the Exchange.

Dul. And I ſay the pofuſion holds in the Exchange :
for the Moone is never but a month old : and I ſay be-
fide that, 'twas a Pricket that the Prinſeſſe kild.

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 Prinſeſſe kill'd a Pri-
ket?

Nath. Perge, good Maſter Holoſernes, perge, ſo it ſhall
pleafe you to abrogate ſcurility.

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

The prays full Prinſeſſe pearſt and pricke
a pretty pleafing Pricket,

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

The Dog ges did yell, put ell to Sore,
then Sorell jumps from thicket.

Or Pricket-fore, or elſe Sorell,
the people fall a hooting.

If Sore bee before, then ell to Sore,
makes fifty ſores O ſorell :

Of one ſore I am 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 have ſimple : ſimple, a foo-
lila extravagant ſpirit, full of ſormes, figures, ſhapes, ob-
jects, Ideas, appreſhenſions, motions, revolutions. Theſe
are begot in the ventricle of memory, nouriſht in the
wombe of primater, and delivered upon the mellowing
of occaſion: but the gift is good in thofe in whom it is
acute, and I am thanke full for it.

Hol. Sir, I prieſe the Lord for you, and ſo may my
parifioners, for their Sonnes are well tutored by you,
and their Daughters profit very greatly under you : you
are a good member of the common-wealth.

Nath. Me hercle, If their Sonnes be ingeanous, they
ſhall

Loves Labour's loft.

Shall want no infraction: If their Daughters be capable,
I will put it to them. But Vir sapit qui paucæ loquitur, a
foule Feminine faluteth us.

Enter Iaquevettæ, and the Clowne.

Iaque. God give you good morrow Maſter Parſon.

Nath. Maſter Parſon, quaſi Perſone ? And if one ſhould
be perſt, Which is the one?

Clo. Marry Maſter Schoolemaſter, he that is likeſt to
a hogshead.

Nath. Of perſing a Hogshead, a good luſter of conceit
in a turph of Earth, fire enough for a Flint, Pearle enough
for a Swine : 'tis pretty, it is well.

Iaque. Good Maſter Parſon be so good as read me this
Letter, it was given me by Cofſard, and ſent me from
Don Armatoth : I beſeeth you reade it.

Nath. Fausſe precor gelida, quando, pecus omne ſub om-
bra, rumina, and ſo forth. Ah good old Mantuan, I
may ſpeake of thee as the traveſler doth of Venice, Vene-
chi, venachea, qui non te vide, i non te piaech. Old Man-
tuan, old Mantuan. Who underſtandeth thee not, ut re
ſolam ſi fa. Vinder pardon fir, What are the contents?or
rather as Horace ſayes in his, What ! my foule verſes.

Hol. I fir, and very learned.

Nath. Let me heare a ſlaſſe, a ſlanza, a verſe, Lege do-
mine.

If Love make me forſworne, how ſhall I ſware to loue ?
Ah neuer faith could hold if not to beautie vowed.

Though to my ſelfe forſworne, to thee Ile faithfull proue.
Thoſe thoughts to me were Okes, to thee like Oſiers
bowed.

Study his byas leaves, and makes his booke thine eyes.
Where all thofe pleatures live, that Art would compre-
hend.

If knowledge be the marke, to know thee ſhall ſuſſice,
Well learned is that tongue, that well can thee commend.
All ignorant that foule, that fees thee without wonder.
Which is to me lome praiſe, that I thy partsadmire ;
Thy eye loves lightning beares, thy voyce his dreadfull
thunder.

Which not to anger bent, is muſique, and ſweet fire.
Celestiall as thou art, Oh pardon love this wrong,
That ſings heavens praiſe, with ſuch an earthly tongue.

Pedro. You find not the apoſtraphas, and ſo miſſe the
accent. Let me ſupernuſe the cangent.

Nath. Here are onely numbers ratified, but for the
elegancy, facility, and golden cadence of poſſe caret: O-
vidius Naſo wasthe man. And why in deed N. aſo, but
for ſmelling out the odoriferous ſloures of fancy ? the
jerkes of invention imitary 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?

Iaque. I fir from one mounſier Berowne, one of the
ſtrange Queenes Lords.

Nath. I will overglance the ſuperncript.

To the snow-white hand of the moſt beauteous Lady, Rosaline.
I will looke againe on the intellect of the Letter, for
the nomination of the party written to the perſon written
unto.

Your Ladiship in all desired impleyment, Berowne.

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

goe my ſweet, deliver this Paper into the hand of the
King, it may concerne much: ſay not thy complement, I
forgive thy duety, adue.

Maid. Good Cofſard goe with me;
Sir God ſave your life.

Coff. Have with thee my girle.

Hol. Sir you have done this in the ſeare of God very
religiously: and as a certaine father faith—

Red. Sir tell not me of the father, I doe ſeare colour-
ble colours. But to returne to the Verſes, Did they pleafe
you fir Nathaniel?

Nath. Marveilous well for the pen.

Peda. I doe dine to day at the rathers of a certaine Pu-
pill of mine, where if (being repaſt) it ſhall pleafe you to
gratifie the table with a Grace, I will on my privilege I
have with the parents of the forefaid Child or Papill,
undertake your bien venuto, where I will prove the
Verſe to bee very unlearned, neither favouring of Poe-
try, Wit, nor Invention. I beſeeth your Society.

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

Peda. And certesthe text moſt infallibly concludes it.
Sir I doe invite you too, you ſhall not ſay me nay: paucæ
verba.

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

Exeunt.

Enter Birone with a Paper in his hand, alone.

Biro. The King he is hunting the Deare,

I am courting my ſelfe.

They have pitcha Toyle, I am toyling ina pitch,
pitch that deſiles: deſile, a ſoule word: Well, ſet thee
downe forrow ; for they ſay the ſoole ſaid, and ſo ſay
I, and I the ſoole: Well proved wit. By the Lord this
Love is as mad as Aiax, it kils ſhcepe, it kils me, Ia
ſhcepe: Well proved againe a my ſide. I will not love,
if I doe, hang me : yfaith I will not net. O but her eye: by
this light, but for her eye, I would not love her ; yes, for
her two eyes. Well, I doe nothing in the world but ſye
and lye in my throate. By heaven I doe love, and it hath
taught me to Rime, and to be mallicholy : and here is
part of my Rime, and heere my mallicholly. 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 witha
paper, God give him grace to grone.

He stands aſide.

The King entreth.

Kin. Ay me !

Bir. Shot by heaven: proceed ſweet Cupid, thou haſt
thumpt him with thy Birdbolt under the left pap: in faith
ſecrets.

King. So ſweet a kiffe the golden Sunne gives not,
To thoſe freſh morning drops upon the Rote,
As thy eye beames when their freſh Rayes have ſmot
The night of dew that on my cheeks downe flowes.
Nor ſhines the filver Moone one halſe ſo bright,
Through the transparent boſome of the deepe,
As doth thy face through teares of mine give light :
Thou thinſt in every teare that I doe weee,
No drop, but as a Coach doth carry thee,
So rideſt thou triumphing in my woe.
Doe but behold the teares that ſwell in me,
And they thy glory through my griefe will ſhew:

But

["Loves Labour's loft.", "But does not love thy selfe, then thou wilt keepe\nMy teares for gaffles, and full make me weepe.\nO' Queene of Queens, how farre doth thou excell,\nNo thought can thinke, nor tongue of mortall tell.\nHow shall the know my griefes? Ile drop the paper.\nSweet leaves shade folly. Who is he comes here?", "Enter Longavile.", "The King steps aside.", "What ! Longavill ! and reading : liften eare.", "Bir. Now in thy likenesse, one more foole appeare.", "Long. Ay me, I am forsworne.", "Bir. Why he comes in like a perjur'd, wearing papers.", "Long. In love I hope, sweet fellowship in flame.", "Bir. One drunkard loves another of the name.", "Lon. Am I the first that have bin perjur'd fo ? (know,\nBir. I could put thee in comfort, not by two that I\nThou makest the triumphery, the corner cap of society,\nThe shape of Loves Tiburne, that hangs up simplicity.", "Lon. I feare thefe flubborne lines lacke power to move.", "O sweet Maria, Empresse of my love,", "Thefe numbers will I teare, and write in profe.", "Bir. O ! Rimes are guards on wanton Cupids hofe,", "Disfigure not his Shop.", "Lon. This fame shall goe.", "He reads the Sonnet.", "Did not the heavenly Rhetorike of thine eye,\n'Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument,\nPerswade my heart to this falfe perjury?", "Vones for thee broke defere not punishment.", "A Woman forswore, but I will prove,", "Thou being a Goddelle, I forswore not thee.", "My Yow was earthly, thou a heavenly Love.", "Thy grace being gail'd, cures all difgrace in me.", "Vones are but breath, and breath a vapour is,", "Then thou j'sire Swu, which on my earth doest thine,", "Exhal't this vapor-vom, in thee st is:", "If broken then, st is no faults of mine:", "If by me broke, What foolè is not so wife,", "To looke an oath, to win a Paradise?", "Bir. This is the liver veine, which makes flefh a deity.\nA greene Goofe, a Goddelle, pure pure Idolatry.", "God amend us, God amend, we are much out o'th'way.", "Enter Dumaine.", "Lon. By whom shall I fend this ! (company ?) Stay.", "Bir. All hid, all hid, an old infant play,", "Like a demy God, here fit I in the sky,", "And wretched fooles secrets heedfully ore-eye.", "More Sackes to the myll. O heavens I have my wifh,\nDumaine transform'd, foure Woodcocks in a diſh.", "Dum. O moſt divine Kate.", "Biro. O moſt prophane coxcombe.", "Dum. By heaven the wonder of a mortall eye.", "Bir. By earth he is not, corporall, there you lye.", "Dum. Her Amber haires for foule hath amber coted.", "Bir. An Amber coloured Raven was well noted.", "Dum. As upright as the Cedar.", "Bir. Stoope I lay, her shoulder is with-child.", "Dum. As faire as day.", "Bir. I as some dayes, but then no funne muſt fhine.", "Dum. O that I had my wifh ?", "Long. And I had mine.", "Kim. And mine too good Lord.", "Bir. Amen, fo I had mine: Is not that a good word ?", "Dum. I would forget her, but a Fever the\nRaignes in my bloud, and will remembred be.", "Bir. A Fever in your bloud ! why then incifion", "Would let her out in Sawcers, wiftc misprifion.", "Dum. Once more Ile read the Ode that I have writ.", "Bir. Once more Ile marke how Love can varry Wit.", "Dumaine reades his Sonnet.", "On a day, alacke the day :", "Love, whose Month is every May,", "Spied a blossome paffing faire,", "B layering in the wanton ayre :", "Through the Velvet, leaves the wind,", "All muſeene, can paſſage find.", "That the Lover ſickes to death,", "Wifh'd himſelfe the heavens breath.", "Ayre (quoth he) thy cheekes may blow,", "Ayre, would I might triumph ſo.", "But alacke my hand is ſworne,", "Ne're to plucke thee from thy throne:", "Yow alacke for youth unmeete,", "Youth ſo apt to plucke a sweet.", "Do not call it ſinu in me,", "That I am forsworne for thee.", "Thou for whom Love would ſwears,", "Iuno but an Æthiop were,", "And deny himſelfe for love,", "Turning mortall for thy Love.", "This will I fend, and something eſſe more plaine.", "That ſhall expreſſe my true-loves faſting paine,", "O would the King, Birone, and Longavile,", "Were Lovers too, ill to example ill,", "Would from my forehead wipe a perjur'd note :", "For none offend, where all alike doe dote.", "Long. Dumaine, thy Love is farre from charity,", "That in Loves grieſe defir'd ſt society :", "You may looke pale, but I should bluſh I know,", "To be ore-heard, and taken napping ſo.", "King. Come fir, you bluſh : as his, your cafe is ſuch,\nYou chid at him, offending twice as much.", "You do not love Maria? Longavile,", "Did never Sonnet for her fake compile :", "Nor never lay his wreathed armes athwart", "His loving boſome, to keepe downe his heart:", "I had beene cloſely ſhowdred in this buſh,", "And markt you both, and for you both did bluſh.", "I heard your guilty Rimes, obfer'd your fashion :", "Saw ſighes reeke from you, noted well your paffion.", "Aye me, fayes one ! O Iove, the other cries!", "Her haires were Gold, Criftall the others eyes.", "You would for Paradife breake faith and troth,", "And Iove for your Love would inflinge an oath.", "What will Birone ſay when that he ſhall heare", "A faith inflringed, which ſuch a zeale did ſwears.", "How will he tcorne ? how will he ſpend his wit ?", "How will he triumph, leape, and laugh at it?", "For all the wealth that ever I did fee,", "I would not have him know ſo much by me.", "Bir. Now ſtep I forth to whip hypocriſe.", "Ah good my Liedge, I pray thee pardon me.", "Good heart, What grace haſt thou thus to reprove", "Theſe wormes for loving, that are moſt in love?", "Your eyes doe make no couches in your teares.", "Thereis no certaine Princeſe that appears.", "You'll not be perjur'd, 'tis a hatefull thing :", "Tuff, none but Minſtrels like of Sonnetting.", "But are you not aſham'd ? nay, are you not", {"bbox":

Loves Labour's loft.

Her feet were much too dainty for such tread.

*Dum.* O vile, then as she goes what upward lyes?
The freet should fee as she walk'd over head.

*Kins.* But what of this, are we not all in love?

*Bir.* Nothing so free, and thereby all forsworne.

*Kin.* Then leave this chat, and good *Birane* now prove
Our loving lawfull, and our faith not torne.

*Dum.* I marry, fome flattery for this evil.

*Long.* O fome authority how to proceed,

Some tricke, some quillets, how to cheat the divell.

*Dum.* Some falve for perjury.

*Bir.* O'ts more then neede.

Have at you then affections men at armes,

Confider what you firft did fware ye unto :

To faft, to ftudy, and to fee no woman :

Flat treafon gainſt the Kingly flate of youth.

Say, Can you faft ? your ftomackes are too young :
And ablinience ingenders maladies.

And where that you have vow'd to ſtudy (Lords)

In that each of you have forſworne his Booke.

Can you fill dreame and pore, and thereon looke?

For when would you my Lord, or you, or you,

Have found the ground of ſtudies excellence,
Without the beauty of a womans face ;

From womens eyes this DoCTRINE I derive,

They are the Ground, the Bookes, the Academes,
From whence doth ſpring the true *Promethean* fire.

Why, univerſall plodging, poyſons up

The nimble ſpirits in the arteries,

As motion and long during action tyres

The finnowy vigour of the travailer.

Now for not looking on a womans face,

You have in that forſworne the uſe of eyes :

And ſtudy too, the cauſer of your vow.

For where is any Author in the world,

Teaches ſuch beauty as a woman's eye :

Learning is but an adjunct to our ſelfe,

And where we are, our learning likewife is.

Then when our ſelves we fee in Ladies eyes,

Doe we not likewife fee our learning there ?

O we have made a Vow to ſtudy, Lords,

And in that vow we have forſworne our Bookes :
For when would you (my Leige) or you, or you?

Inleaden contemplation have found out

Such ſiery Numbers as the prompting eyes,

Of beauties tutors have inrich'd you with :

Other flow Arts intirely keepe the braine :

And therefore finding barraine prætizers,

Scarce ſhew a harvelt of their heavy toyle.

But Love firſt learned in a Ladies eyes,

Lives not alone immured in the braine :

But with the motion of all elements,

Courſes as ſwift as thought in every power,

And gives to every power a double power,

Above their functions and their offices.

Iraddes a precious feeing to the eye :

A Lovers eyes will gaze an Eagle blind.

A Lovers eare will heare the loweft found.

When the ſuſpicious head of theft is ſlopt,

Loves feeling is more ſoft and ſenſible,

Then are the tender hornes of Cockled Snayles.

Loves tongue proves dainty *Bachus*, groſſe in taſte,
For Valour, is not Love a *Hercules*?

Still climbing trees in the *Hesperides*.

Subtill as *Sphinx*, as ſweet and muſicall,

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

And when Love ſpeakes, the voyce of all the gods,
Make heaven drowtie with the harmony.

Never durſt Poer touch a pen to write,

Vntill his Inke were tempred with Loves ſfighes :

O then his lines would ravil ſavage eares;

And plant in Tyrants mild humilitie,

From womens eyes this doCTRINE I derive.

They ſparce fill the right *Promethean* fire,

They are the Bookeſ, the Arts, the Academes,

That ſhew, containe, and nonriſh all the world.

Elſe none at all in ought proves excellent.

Then ſooles you were theſe women to forſwere :

Or keeping what is ſworne, you will prove ſooles.

For Wifedomes ſake (a word that all men love)

Or for Loves ſake, a word that loves all men.

Or for Mens ſake, the author of theſe Women :

Or Womens ſake, by whom we men are men,

Let us once looke our oathes to find our ſelves,

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

It is religion to be thus forſworne.

For Charity it ſelfe fulſills the Law :

And who can fever love from Charity?

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

*Bir.* Advance your ſtandards, and upon them Lords.

Pell, mell, downe with them : but be firſt advis'd,

In conſilia that you get the Sunne of them.

*Lon.* Now to plane dealing, Lay theſe glozes by,

Shall we reſolve to wooe theſe gilles of France?

*Kin.* And winne them too, therefore let us devife;

Some entertainment for them in their Tentſ.

*Bir.* Firſt from the Parke let us conduct them thither,

Then homeward every man attach the hand.

Of his faire Miftreſe, in the afternoone

We will with ſome ſtrange paſtline ſolace them :

Such as the ſhortneſſe of the time can ſhape,

For Revels, Dances, Maskes, and merry hours,

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

*Kin.* Away, away, no time ſhall be omitted,

That will be time, and may by us be ſitted.

*Bir.* Alone, alone ſowed Cockell, reap'd no Corne,

And Inſtice always whirles in equall meaſure :

Light Wenches may prove plagues to men forſworne,

If to, our Copper buyes no better treaſure.

Exeunt.

Actus Quartus.

Enter the Pedant, Curate, and Dull.

*Peda. Satis quid ſufficit.*

*Cur.* I praife God for you fir, your reaſons at dinner
have beene ſharpe and ſententious:pleaſant without ſcur-
rility, witty without affectation, andacious without im-
pudency, learned without opinion, and ſtrange without
hereſe : I did conuerſe this *quondam* day with a compa-
nion of the Kings, who is initialed, nominated, or called,
*Don Adriano de Armatho*.

*Ped. Novi hominum tanquam te,* His humour is lofty,
his diſconſe peremptory: his tongue filed, his eye am-
bitious, his gate majeſticall, and his generall behavi-
our vaine, ridiculous, and thraſonicall. He is too picked,
too ſpruce, too affected, too odde, as it were, too per-
grinate, as I may call it.

M 2

Curas.

136

Loves Labour's loft.

Curat. A moſt singular and choife Epithat,

Draw out his Table-booke.

Ped. He draweth out the thred of his verboſity, fi-
ner then the ſtaple of his argument. I abhor ſuch pha-
natical phantafims, ſuch infociable and poynt devife
companions, ſuch rackers of ortagriphy, as to ſpeake
dout ſine, when he ſhould ſay doubt; det, when he ſhould
pronounce debt; debr, nor det: he clepeth a Caſſe,
Caufe: halſe, haſe: neighbour vocatur nebour; neigh a-
breviated ne: this is abhominable, which he would call
abhominable: it inſinuateth me of infamy: ne intelligis do-
mine, to make franticke, lunaticke?

Curra. *Laus deo, bene intelligo.*

Peda. Borne boon for boon prefian, a little ſearch, 'twill
ſerve.

Enter Braggart, Boy.

Curat. Vides-<u>ne quis venit ?

Peda. Video, & gaudia.

Brag. Chirra.

Peda. Quare Chirra, not Sirra ?

Brag. Men of peace well incountred.

Peda. Moſt military fir, falutation,

Boy. They have beene at a great feaſt of Languages,
and ſtole the ſcraps.

Clow. O they have liv'd long on the alues-basket of
words. I marvell thy M. hath not eaten thee for a word,
for thou art not ſo long by the head as honorificabilitu-
dinitibus: Thou art easier ſwallowed then a flapdra-
gon.

Page. Peace, the peale begins.

Brag. Moanſier, are you not lettered ?

Page. Yes, yes, he teaches boyes the Horne-booke :
What is Ab ſpeld backward with the horne on his head ?

Peda. Ba, pueritia with a horne added.

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

Peda. *Luis quis, thou Conſonant ?*

Pag. The laſt of the five Vowels if You repeat them,
or the ſift if I.

Peda. I will repeat them: a e I.

Pag. The Sheepe, the other two concludes it o.

Brag. Now by the ſalt wave of the mediteraneum, a
ſweet tutch, a quicke veaue of wit, ſnip ſnap, quicke and
home, it rejoyceth my intelleſt, true wit.

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

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

Page. Hornes.

Peda. Thou disputes't like an Infant: goe whip thy
Gigge.

Pag. Lend me your Horne to make one, and I will
whip about your Infamy vnnum cita a gigge of a Cuckolds
horne.

Clow. And I had but one penny in the world, thou
ſhouldſt have 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 and the
heavens were ſo pleafed, that thou wert but my Baſtard :
What a joyfull father wouldſt thou make me ? Goe to,
thou haſt it ad dungil, at the fingers ends, as they ſay.

Peda. Oh I ſmell falſe Latine, dungel for vnſem.

Brag. Art-man preambular, we will be ſingled from
the barbarous. Doe you not educate youth at the Charg-
houſe on the top of the Mountaine ?

Peda. Or Monſt the hill.

Brag. At your ſweet pleafure, for the Mountaine,

Peda. I doe ſans queſſion.

Brag. Sir, it is the Kings moſt ſweet pleafure and af-
fection, to congratulate the Princeſſe at her Pavilion, in
the poſteriorſs of this day, which the rude multitude call
the after-noone.

Ped. The poſterior of the day, moſt generous fir, is li-
ble, congruent, and meaſurable for the after-noone: the
word is well cuſd, choife, ſweet, and apt I doe aſſure you
fir, I doe aſſure.

Brag. Sir, the King is a noble Gentleman, and my ſi-
miliar, I doe aſſure ye very good friend: for what is in-
ward betweene us, let it paſſe. I doe beſeech thee re-
member thy curſeſe. I beſeech thee apparell thy head:
and among other importante and moſt ferious deſignes,
and of great import indeed too: but let that paſſe, for I
muſt tell thee it will pleafe his Grace (by the world)
fometime to leane upon my poore ſhoulder, and with
his royaall finger thus daily 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 Armado a ſouldier,
a man of travel, that hath ſeen the world: but let that
paſſe; the very all of all is: but ſweet heart, I doe im-
plore ſecrecy, that the King would have me prefent the
Princeſſe (wſe chucke) with ſome delightſull oſſen-
tiation, or ſhow, or pageant, or anticke, or fire-worke.
Now, understanding that the Curate and your ſweet ſelfe
are good at ſuch eruptions, and ſodaine breaking out of
myrth (as it were) I have acquainted you withall, to the
end to crave your aſſiſtance.

Peda. Sir, you ſhall prefent before her the Nine Wor-
thies. Sir Hoſſer ſern, as concerning ſome entertainment
of time, ſome ſhow in the poſterior of this day, to be
rended by our aſſiſants at the Kings command: and this
moſt gallant, iſtillate and learned Gentleman, before
the Princeſſe: I ſay none ſo fit as to prefent the Nine
Worthies.

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

Peda. Joſua, your ſelfe: my ſelfe, and this gallant gen-
tleman Indas Machabeus; this Swaine (tecaufe of his
great limme or joynt) ſhall paſſe Fompey the great, the
Page Hercules.

Brag. Pardon fir, error: He is not quantity enough
for that Worthies thumbe, he is not ſo big as the end of
his Club.

Peda. Shall I have audience ? he ſhall prefent Hercule-
ſes in minority: his enter and exiſt ſhall be ſfrangling a
Snake; and I will have an Apology for that purpofe.

Pag. An excellent device: ſo if any of the audience
hiffe, you may cry, Well done Hercules, now thou cru-
fefthe the Snake; that is the way to make an offence gr-
cious, though few have the grace to doe it.

Brag. For the reſt of the Worthies?

Peda. I will play three my ſelfe.

Pag. Thrice worthy Gentleman.

Brag. Shall I tell you a thing ?

Peda. We attend.

Brag. We will have, if this ſadge nor, an Antique. I
beſeech you follow.

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

Dull. Ner underſtood none neither fir.

Ped. Alone, we will employ thee.

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

Loves Labour's loft.

on the taber to the Worthies, and let them dance the hey.
*Ped.* Moft Dull, honest Dull, to our sport away. Exis.

*Enter Princeſſe, and Ladies.*

*Prin.* Sweet hearts, we shall be rich ere we depart,
If fairings come thus plentifully in.
A Lady wal'd about with Diamonds: looke you, what I
have from the loving King.

*Rofa.* Madam, came nothing elfe along with that?

*Prin.* Nothing but this: yes as much love in Rime,
As would be cram'd up 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 five thouand yeeres a boy.

*Kath.* I, and a ſhrewd unhappy gallowes too.

*Rofa.* You'll ne're be friends with him, a kild your fiftet.
*Kath.* He made her melancholy, fad, and heavy,

And ſhe died: had ſhe beene light like you,

Of ſuch a merry nimble flurring ſpirit,
She might a beene a Grandam ere ſhe died.

And ſo may you : For a light heart lives long.

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

*Kath.* A light condition in a beauty darke.

*Rofa.* We need more light to find your meaning out.

*Kat.* You'll marre the light by taking it in ſnuffe :

Therefore lie darkely end the argument.

*Rofa.* Looke what you doe, you doe it ſtill i'th darke.

*Kat.* So doe not you, for you are a light Wench.

*Rofa.* Indeed I waigh not you, and therefore light.

*Ka.* You waigh me not, O that's you care not for me.

*Rofa.* Great reafon: for palt care, is ſtill palt care.

*Prin.* Well bandied both, a fet of Wit well played.

But Rofaline, you have a Favour too ?

Who ſent it: and what is it ?

*Rofa.* I wold you knew.

And if my face were but as faire as yours,
My Favour were as great, as witneſſe this.

Nay, I have Verſes too, I thankes Birone,
The numbers true, and were the numbring too,
I were the faireft goddeſſe on the ground.
I am compar'd to twenty thouand faireſes.

O he hath drawne my picture in his letter.

*Prin.* Any thing like?

*Rofa.* Much in the letters, nothing in the prieſe.

*Prin.* Beauteous as Incke : a good conclusion.

*Kat.* Faire as a text B. in a Coppy booke.

*Rofa.* Ware penſils. How I let me not dye your debtor,

My red Dominicall, my golden letter.

O that your face were full of Oes.

*Prin.* A Pox of that jeſt, and I beſhrew all Shrowes :

But Katherine, what was ſent to you

From faire Dumaine?

*Kat.* Madam, this Glove.

*Prin.* Did he not ſend you twaine ?

*Kat.* Yes Madam : and moreover,

Some thouand Verſes of a faithfull Lover.

A huge tranſlation of hypocrifſe,
Vildly compil'd, profound ſimplicity.

*Mar.* This, and theſe Pearls, to me ſent Longaville.

The Letter is too long by halſe a mile.

*Prin.* I thinke no leſſe: Doſt thou not wifh in heart

The Chaine were longer, and the Letter ſhort?

*Mar.* I, or I would theſe hands might never part.

*Prin.* We are wife girles to mocke our Lovers ſo.

*Rofa.* They are worſe fooles to purchase mocking ſo.
That fame Birone ile torture ere I goe.

O that I knew he were but in by th' weeke,
How I would make him ſawne, and beg, and ſeeke,
And wait the ſeafon, and obſerve the times,
And ſpend his prodigall wits in booteles rimes.

And shape his ſervice all to my beheſts,
And make him proud to make me proud with jeſts.
So pertaunt like would I o'reſway his ſlate,
That he ſhould be my ſoole, and I his fate.

*Prin.* None are ſo ſurely caught, when they are catcht,
As Wit turn'd ſoole: folly in Wifedome hatch'd,
Hath wifedomes warrant, and the helpe of Schoole,
And Wits owne grace to grace a learned Foole ?

*Rofa.* The blond of youth burnes not with ſuch exceſſe,
As gravities revolt to wantoneſſe.

*Mar.* Folly in fooles bears not ſo strong a note,
As fool'ry in the Wife, when Wit doth dote :

Since all the power thereof it doth apply,

To prove by Wit, worth in ſimplicity.

*Enter Boyer.*

*Prin.* Heere comes Boyet; and mirth in his face.

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

*Prin.* Thy neſſes Boyet?

*Boy.* Prepare Madame, prepare.

Arme Wenches arme, encounters mounted are,
Against your Peace, Love doth approach, diſguſ'd :

Armed in arguments, you'll be ſupriz'd.

Mafter your Wits, ſtand in your owne defence,
Or hide your heads like Cowards, and flye hence.

*Prin.* Saint Dennia, to S. Cupid : What are they,
That charge their breath againſt us? Say ſcout ſay?

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

Toward that ſhade I might behold addreſſ,
The King and his companions : warily

I ſtole into a neighbour thicket by,

And over-heard, what you ſhall over-heare :
That by and by diſguſ'd they will be heere.

Their Herald is a pretty knavish Page :
That well by heart bath con'd his embaffage,

Action and accent did they teach him there.

Thus muſt thou ſpeake, and thus thy body beare.

And ever and anon they made a doubt,

Preſence majeſticall would put him out :

For quoth the King, an Angell ſhall thou ſee :

Yet ſeare not thou, but ſpeake audaciously.

The Boy reply'd, an Angell is not evill :

I ſhould have fear'd her, had ſhe beene a devill.

With that all laugh'd, and clap'd him on the shouldler,
Making the bold wagge by their prieſes bolder.

One rub'd his elbœ thus, and fleer'd, and ſwore,

A better ſpeech was never ſpoke before.

Another with his finger, and his thumb,

Cry'd viſa, we will doo't, come what will come.

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

The fourth turn'd on the toe, and downe he fell :

With that they all did tumble on the ground,

With ſuch a zealous laughter ſo profound,
That in this ſpleene ridiculous appears,

To checke their folly paffions, ſolemne teares.

*Prin.* But what, but what, come they to viſit us?

*Boy.* They doe, they doe; and are apparel'd thus,
Like Auscovites, or Ruffians, or I geſſe.

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

M3

And

138

Loves Labour's loft.

And every one his Love-feat will advance,
Vnto his feverall Miftrefse : which they'll know
By favours feverall, which they did beflow.
Prin. And will they fo ? the Gallants shall be taskt :

For Ladies, we will every one be maskt,
And not a man of them shall have the grace
Defpight of fute, to fee a Ladies face.
Hold Rofaline, this Favour thou fhalt weare,
And then the King will court thee for his Deare:
Hold, take thou this my fweet, and give methine,
So fhall Birone take me for Rofaline.
And change your Favours too, fo shall your Loves
Wooe contrary, deceiv'd by thefe removes.

Rofa. Come on then, weare the favours moft in fight.

Kath. But in this changing, What is your intent ?

Prin. The effect of my intent is to croſe theirs :

They doe it but in mocking merriment,
And mocke for mocke is only my intent.

Their feverall counſels they unboſome shall,
To Loves miſtooke, and ſo be mockt withall.

Vpon the next occafion that we meete,
With Vitages difplayed to talke and greete.

Rofa. But shall we dance, if they defire us too't?

Prin. No, to the death we will not move a foot,
Nor to their pen'd ſpeech render we no grace :
But while 'tis spoke, each turne away her face.

Boy. Why that contempt will kill the keepers heart,
And quite divorce his memory from his part.

Prin. Therefore I doe it, and I make no doubt,
The reft will ne're come in, if he be out.
There's no fuch ſport, as ſport by ſport orethrowne :

To make theirs ours, and ours none but our owne.

So ſhall we ſlay mocking entended game,

And they well mockt, depart away with ſhame. Sound.

Boy. The Trumpet founds, be maskt, the maskers
come.

Enter Black moores with muſicke, the Boy with a ſpeech,
and the reſt of the Lords diſguſed.

Page. All hailes, the richest Beauties on the earth.

Boy. Beauties no richer then rich Taffata.

Pag. A holy parcell of the faireſt dames that ever turn'd
their backes to mortall viewes.

The Ladies turne their backes to him.

Boy. Their eyes villaine, their eyes.

Pag. That ever turn'd their eyes to mortall viewes.

Out

Boy. True, out indeed.

Pag. Out of your favours heavenly ſpirit vouchſafe

Not to behold.

Boy. Once to behold, rogue.

Pag. Once to behold with your Sunne beamed eyes,

With your Sunne beamed eyes.

Boy. They will not anſwer to that Epythite,
You were beſt call it Daughter-beamed eyes.

Pag. They do not marke me, and that brings me out.

Boy. Is this your perfectneſſe ? be gonyou rogue.

Rofa. What would theſe ftrangers ?

Know their minds Boyet.

If they doe ſpeake our language, 'tis our will

That ſome plaine man recount their purpoſes.

Know what thy would ?

Boy. What would you with the Princes ?

Boy. Nothing but peace, and gentle viſitation.

Rof. What would they, ſay they ?

Rofa. Why that they have, and bid them ſo be gone.

Boy. She ſayes you have it, and you may be gone.

Kin. Say'to her we have meaſur'd many miles,
To tread a Meaſure with you on the graſſe.

Boy. They ſay that they have meaſur'd many a mile,
To tread a Meaſure with you on this graſſe.

Rofa. It is not ſo. Aske them how many inches
Is in one mile ? If they have meaſur'd many,
The meaſure then of one is eafly told.

Boy. It to come hither, you have meaſur'd miles,
And many miles: the Princell bids you tell,
How many inches doth fill up one mile?

Boy. Tell her we meaſure them by weary ſteps,

Boy. She heares her ſelfe.

Rofa. How many weary ſteps,

Of many weary miles you have ore-gone,

Are numbred in the travell of one mile ?

Boy. We number nothing that we ſpend for you,
Our duty is ſo rich, ſo infinite,

That we may doe it fill without accompt.

Vouchſafe to ſhew the ſunſhine of your face,

That we (like favages) may worſhip it.

Rofa. My face is but a Moone and clouded too.

Kin. Bleſſed are clouds, to doe as ſuch clouds doe.

Vouchſafe bright Moone, and theſe thy ſtarres to ſhine,
(Thofe clouds removed) upon our watery eyne,

Rofa. O vaine pietcioner, beg a greater matter,

Thou now requeits but Mooneſhine in the water.

Kin. Then in our meaſure, vouchſafe but one change.
Thou bidſt me beg, this begging is not ſtrange.

Rofa. Play muſicke then : nay you muſt doe it ſoon.
Not yet no dance : thus change I like the Moone.

Kin. Will you not dance : How come you thus e-
franged?

Rofa. You tooke the Moone at full, but now ſhe's
changed?

Kin. Yet fill ſhe is the Moone, and I the Man.

Rofa. The muſicke playes, vouchſaſe ſome motion to
it : Our eares vouchſate it.

Kin. But your legges should doe it.

Rof. Since you are ſtrangers, and come here by chance,
We'll not be nice, take hands, we will not dance.

Kin. Why take you hands then ?

Rofa. Onely to part friends.

Curtſie ſweet hearts, and ſo the Meaſure ends.

Kin. More meaſure of this meaſure, benot nice.

Rofa. We can aſſord no more at ſuch a price.

Kin. Prife your ſelves then : what buyes your company?

Rofa. Your abſence only.

Kin. That can never be.

Rofa. Then cannot we be bought : and ſo adue,

Twice to your Vifor, and halſe once to you.

Kin. If you deny to dance, let's hold more chat.

Rof. In private then.

Kin. I am beſt pleaſ'd with that.

Boy. White handed Miftris, one ſweet word with theſe.

Prin. Hony, and Milke, and Suger : there is three.

Boy. Nay then two treyes, and if you grow ſonce

Methegline, Wort, and Malmſey ; well runne dice :
There's halſe a dozen ſweets.

Prin. Seventh ſweet adue, ſince you can cog,
Ile play no more with you.

Boy. One word in ſecret.

Prin. Let it not be ſweet.

Boy. Thou greev'ſt my gall.

Prin.

Loves Labour's loft.

139

Prin. Gall, bitter.
Bir. Therefore meete.
Dn. Will you vouchsafe with me to change a word ?
Mar. Name it.
Dum. Faire Lady:
Mar. Say you so ? Faire Lord ;
Take you that for your faire Lady.
Dum. Pleaue it you,
As much in private, and Ile bid adieu:
Mar. What, was your vizard made without a tongue?
Long. I know the reason Lady why you aske.
Mar. O for your reason, quickly fir, I long.
Long. You have a double tongue within your maske.
And would affoord my fpeechleffe vizard halfe:
Mar. Veale quoth the Dutch-man: is not Veale a
Calfe ?
Long. A Calfe faire Lady ?
Mar. No, a faire Lord Calfe.
Long. Let's part the word,
Mar. No, Ile not be your halfe :
Take all and weane it, it may prove an Oxe.
Long. Looke how you but to your selfe in these Sharpe
mockes.
Will you give hornes chaft Lady ? Doe not so.
Mar. Then dye a Calfe before your hornes doe grow.
Lon. One word in private with you ere I dye.
Mar. Bleat softly then, the Butcher heares you cry.
Boy. The tongues of mocking wenches are as keene
As is the Razors edge, invifible:
Cutting a smaller haire then may be feene,
Above the fenle of fence so fenible:
Seemeth their conference, their conceits have wings,
Fleeter then arrows, bullets, wind, thought, twifter things
Ros. Not one word more my maides, breake off, breake
off.
Bir. By heaven, all dry beaten with pure Scoffe.
Kin. Fare-well maddie Wenches, you have fimple
wits.
Prin. Twenty adicus my frozen Mufcovits.
Are thefe the breed of wits so wondred at ?
Boy. Tapers they are, with your sweet breathes puft
out.
Ros. Wel-liking wits they have, groffe, groffe, fat, fat.
Prin. O poverty in wir, Kingly poore flout.
Will they not (thinke you) hang themfelves to night ?
Or ever but in vizards flew their faces :
This pert Birone was out of count'nance quite.
Ros. O I They were all in lamentable cafes.
The King was weeping ripe for a good word.
Prin. Birone did fware himſelfe out of all fuite.
Mar. Dumaine was at my ſervice, and his ſword :
No point (quoth I:) my ſervant ſtraight was mute.
Ka. Lord Longavile laid I came ore his heart :
And trow you what he call'd me ?
Prin. Qualme perhaps.
Kat. Yes in good faith.
Prin. Gee fickneſſe as thou art.
Ros. Well, better wits have worne plaine flatute caps,
But will you heare ; the King is my love ſworne.
Prin. And quicke Birone hath plighted faith to me.
Kat. And Longavile was for my ſervice borne.
Mar. Dumaine is mine as ſure as barke on tree.
Boy. Madam, and pretty miltresſes give care,
Immediately they will againe be hereere
In their owne ſhapes : for it can never be,
They will difgeſt this harſh indignity.

Prin. Will they returne ?
Boy. They will they will, God knowes,
And leape for joy, though they are lame with blowes:
Therefore change Favours, and when they repaire,
Blow like fweet Rofes, in this fummer aire.
Prin. How blow ? how blow ? Speake to be under-
stood.
Boy. Faire Ladies maskt, are Rofes in their bud :
Difmaskt, their damaske fweet commixture ſhowne,
Are Angels vailing clouds, or Rofes blowne.
Prin. Avant perplexity: What ſhall we doe,
If they returne in their owne ſhapes to wooe ?
Ros. Good Madam, if by me you'll be advis'd,
Let's mocke them full as well knowne as difguis'd:
Let us complaine to them what fooles were heare,
Difguis'd like Mufcovites in ſhapeleſſe geare :
And wonder what they were, and to whatand
Their shallow ſhowes, and Prologue vildly pen'd,
And their rough carriage for ridiculousons,
Should be prefented at our Tent to us.
Boy. Ladies, withdraw : the gallants are at hand.
Prin. Whip to our Tents, as Rofes runnes ore Land.
Exeunt.

Enter the King and the Queen.
King. Faire fir, God fave you. Wher's the Princeſſe ?
Boy. Gone to her Tent.
Pleate it your Majefty command me any ſervice to her?
King. That ſhe vouchſaſe me audience for one word.
Boy. I will, and ſo will ſhe, I know my Lord. Exit.
Bir. This fellow pickes up wit as Pigeons peafe,
And utters it againe, when love doth pleafe.
He is Wits Pedler, and retailes his Wares,
At Wakes, and Waffles, Meetings, Markets, Faires.
And what ſell by groſſe, the Lord doth knowes,
Have not the grace to grace it with fuch ſhow.
This Gallant pins the Wenches on his ſleeve.
Had he bin Adam, he had tempted Eve.
He can carve too, and lifpe: Why this is he,
That kift away his hand in courteſe.
This is the Ape of Forme, Monſieur the nice,
That when he playes at Tables, chides the Dice.
In honorable tearmes: Nay he can ſing
A meane moſt meanly, and in Vſhering
Mend him who can : the Ladies call him ſweet.
The ſtaires as he treads on them kiffe his feete.
This is the flower that ſmiles on every one,
To ſhow his teeth as white as Whale his bone.
And conſciences that will not dye in debt,
Pay him the duty of hony-tongued Boyer.
Kin. A blifter on his ſweet tongue with my heart,
That put Armadoes Page out of his part.

Enter Ladies.
Bir. See where it comes. Behaviour what wer't thou,
Till this madman ſhew'd thee? And what art thou now?
Kin. All hile ſweet Madam, and faire time of day.
Prin. Faire in all Haile is foule, as I conceive.
Kin. Conſtrue my ſpeeches better, if you may.
Prin. Then with me better, I will give you leave,
Kin. We came to vifit you, and purpofe now
To leade you to our Court, vouchſaſe it then.
Prin. This field ſhall hold me, and ſo hold your vow s
Nor God, nor I, delights in perjur'd men.
Kin. Rebuke me not for that which you provoke : The

["Loves Labour's loft.", "140", "The vertue of your eye muſt breake my oath.", "Pr. You nickname vertue: vice you ſhould have ſpoke:\nFor vertues office never breaks men troth.", "Now by my maiden honor, yet as pure", "As the unfuſlied Lilly, I proteſt:", "A world of torments though I ſhould endure,", "I would not yeeld to be your houſes guelt :", "So much I hate a breaking cauſe to be", "Of heavenly oathes, vow'd with integrity.", "Kin. O you have liv'd in delocation heere,", "Vnſene, unviſited, much to our ſhame.", "Prin. Not ſo my Lord, it is not ſo I ſware,\nWe have had paltimes heere, and pleafant game,\nA meſſe of Ruffians left us but of late.", "Kin. How Madam ? Ruffians ?", "Prin. I in truth, my Lord.", "Trim gallants, full of Courtſhip and of flate.", "Rofa. Madam ſpeake true. It is not ſo my Lord :", "My Lady (to the manner of the dayes)", "In curteſſe gives undefeſring praiſe.", "We ſoure indeed confronted were with ſoure", "In Ruffian habit: Heere they flayed an houre,", "And talk'd apace : and in that houre (my Lord)", "They did not bleſſe us with one happy word.", "I dare not call them fooles; but this I thinke,", "When they are thirſty, fooles would ſaine have drinke.", "Bir. This jeſt is dry to me. Faire gentle ſweeſ,", "Your wit makes wife things ſooliſh, when we greete", "With eyes beſt feeing, heavens ſiery eye :", "By light we loſe light: your capacity", "Is of that nature, that to your huge ſtore,", "Wife things ſeeme ſooliſh, and rich things but poore.", "Rof. This proves you wife and rich : for in my eye—", "Bir. I am a foole, and full of poverty.", "Rof. But that you take what doth to you belong,\nIt were a fault to ſnatch words from my tongue.", "Bir. O, I am yours and all that I poſſeſſe.", "Rof. All the foole mine.", "Bir. I cannot give you leſſe.", "Rof. Which of the Vizards was it that you wore ?", "Bir. Where ? when ? What Vizard ?", "Why demand you this ?", "Rof. There, then, that vizard, that ſuperfluous caſe,", "That hid the worſe, and ſhew'd the better face.", "Kin. We are diſcried,", "They'l mocke us now downe right.", "Duk. Let us conſeſſe, and turne it to a jeſt.", "Prin. Amaz'd my Lord ? Why lookes your Highneſſe\nfadde ?", "Rof. Helpe hold his browes, hee'l ſ wound : why looke\nyou pale?", "Sea-ficke I thinke comming from Muſcovy.", "Bir. Thus poure the ſtarres downe plagues for perjury.\nCan any face of braſſe hold longer out ?", "Heere ſtand I, Lady dart thy skill at me,", "Bruſe me with ſcorne, confound me with a ſlout.", "Thruſt thy ſharpe wit quite through my ignorance.", "Cut me to peeces with thy keene conceit :", "And I will with thee never more to dance,", "Nor never more in Ruffian habit waite.", "O ! never will I truſt to ſpeeches pen'd,\nNor to the motion of a Schoole-boyes tongue.", "Nor never 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 pedantical, theſe ſummer ſlyes,", "Have blowne me full of maggot ſententation.", "I doe forſware them, and I heere proteſt,", "By this white Glove (how white the hand God knows)", "Henceforth my wooing mind ſhall be expreſt", "In ruffet yeas, and honet keſſe noes.", "And to begin Wench, ſo God hepe me law,", "My love to thee is found, Jaws cracke or ſlaw.", "Rofa. Sans, ſans, I pray you.", "Bir. Yet I have a tricke", "Of the old rage: I are with me, I am ſicke.", "I leav e it by degrees: ſoft, let us fee,", "Write Lord hane mercy on us, on thofe three,", "They are inſected, in their hearts it ſyes :", "They have the plague, and caught it of your eyes ;", "Theſe Lords are viſited, you are not free:", "For the Lords tokens on you doe I fee.", "Prin. No, they are free that gave theſe tokens to us.", "Bir. Our ſtates are forfeit, feeke not to undoe us.", "Rof. It is not ſo ; for how can this be true,", "That you ſtand forfeit, being thofe that ſue.", "Bir. Peace, for I will not have to doe with you,", "Rof. Nor ſhall not, if I doe as I intend.", "Bir. Speake for your ſelves, my wit is at an end.", "King. Teach us toweet Madame, for our rude transſegre-\nfion, ſome faire excufe.", "Prin. The faireſt is conſeſſion.", "Were you not here but even now, diſguis'd?", "Kin. Madam, I was.", "Prin. And were you well advis'd ?", "Kin. I was faire Madam.", "Prin. When you then were hereere,", "What did you whifper in your Ladies eare ?", "Kin. That more then all the world I did reſpect her.", "Prin. When ſhe ſhall challenge this, you will reſeſt\nher.", "Kin. Vpon mine Honor no.", "Prin. Peace, peace, forbeare :", "Your oath once broke, you force not to forſware.", "Kin. Despife me when I breake this oath of mine.", "Prin. I will, and therefore keepe it. Rofaine,", "What did the Ruffian whifper in your eare ?", "Rofa. Madam, he ſwore that he did hold me deare", "As precious eyeſight, and did value me", "Above this World : adding there moreoever,", "That he would Wed me, or eſſe dye my Lover.", "Prin. God give thee joy of him: the Noble Lord", "Moft honorably doth uphold his word.", "Kin. What meane you Madame ?", "By my life, my troth,", "I never ſwore this Lady ſuch an oath.", "Rof. By heaven you did ; and to confirme it plaine,\nyou gave me this : But take it fir againe.", "King. My faith and this, the Princeſſe I did give,\nI knew her by this Iewell on her ſleeve.", "Prin. Pardon me fir, this Iewell did ſhe weare,\nAnd Lord Birone (I thanke him) is my deare.", "What ? Will you have me, or your Pearle againe ?", "Bir. 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 Comedy.", {"bbox": [660, 1241, 1008, 1280], "category

Loves Labour's loft.

141

Told our intents before : which once disflos'd,
The Ladies did change Favours, and then we
Following the lignes, woo'd but the figne of the.

Now to our perjury, to adde more terror,
We are againe forfworne in will and error.

Much upon this it is : and might not you
Forestall our sport, to make us thus untrue ?

Doe not you know my Ladies foot by't squier ?
And laugh upon the apple of her eye ?

And stand betweene her backe fir, and the fire,
Holding a trencher, jetting merrily ?

You put our Page out : goe, you are allowed

Die when you will, a fmocke fhall be your fhrowd.

You leere upon me, doe you? There's an eye
Wounds like a Leaden ſword.

Boy. Full merrily hath this brave manager, this car-
reere beene runne.

Bir. Loe, he is tilting ſtraight. Peace, I have done.

Enter Clowne.

Welcome pure wit, thou part't a faire fray.

Clo. O Lord fir, they would kno,

Whether the three Worthies ſhall come in, or no,

Bir. What, are there but three ?

Clow. No fir, but it is vara fine,

For every one purfents three.

Bir. And three times thrice is nine.

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

Bir. Is not nine.

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

Bir. By Iove, I always tooke three threes for nine.

Clo. O Lord fir, it were pitty you should get your
living by reckning fir.

Bir. How much is it?

Clo. O Lord fir, the parties themfelves, the actors fir
will ſhow where-untill 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.

Bir. Art thou one of the Worthies ?

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

Bir. Goe, bid them prepare.

Exit.

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

King. Birone, they will flame me :

Let them not approach.

Bir. We are flame-proofe my Lord : and 'tis fome
policy, to have one ſhow worſe then the Kings and his
company.

Kin. I ſay they shall not come.

Prin. Nay my good Lord, let me ore rule you now ;
That ſport beſt pleafes, that doth leaſt know how.
Where Zeale ſtrives to content, and the contents

Dies in the Zeale of that which it prefents :

Their forme confounded, makes moſt forme in mirth,
When great things labouring perſih in their birth.

Bir. A right deſcription of our ſpört my Lord.

Enter Braggart.

Brag, Annointed, I implore ſo much expence of thy

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

Prin. Doth this man ſerve God ?

Bir. Why aske you?

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

Brag. That's all one my ſaire ſweet hony Monarch :
For I proteſt, the Schoolmaſter is exceeding fantaſtical:
Too too vaine, too too vaine. But we will put it (as they
ſay) to Fortuna delagpar. I wifh you the peace of mind
moſt royall supplement.

King. Here is like to be a good prefence of Worthies;
He prefents H:ctor of Troy, the Swaine Pompey the great,
the Parifh Curate : Alexander, Armadoes Page Hercules,
the Pedant Iudas Machabeus : And if theſe ſoure Wor-
thies in their firſt ſhow thrine, theſe ſoure will change
habites, and preſent the other ſive.

Bir. There is ſive in the firſt ſhow.

Kin. You are deceived, tis not ſo.

Bir. The Pedant, the Braggart, the Hedge-Prief, the
Foole, and the Boy.

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

Kin. The ſhip is under ſaile, and here ſhe comes amaine.

Enter Pompay.

Clo. I Pompay am.

Boy. You lye, you are not he.

Clo. I Pompay am.

Boy. With Libbards head on knee.

Bir. Well faid old,

I muſt needs be friends with thee.

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

Du. The great.

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

That oſt in field, with Targe and Shield,
did make my foe to weat :

And travailing along this coast, I heere am 'come by chance,
And lay my Armes before the legs of this weet Lasse of
France.

If your Ladiphip would ſay thankses Pompay, I had done.

Prin. Great thanks great Pompay.

Clr. Tis not ſo much worth : but I hope I was per-
fect. I made a little fault in great.

Bir. My hat to a halſe-peny, Pompay proves the beſt
Worthy.

Enter Curate, for Alexander.

Curate. When in the world I liv'd, I was the worlds Com-
mander :

By East, West, North, and South, I ſpred my conquering might

My Scutcheou plaine declares that I am Alifander.

Boy. Your noſe faies no, you are not :

For it stands too right.

Bir. Your noſe ſmels no, in this moſt tender ſmelling
Knight.

Prin. The Conqueror is diſmaid :

Proceed good Alexander.

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

Boy. Moſt true, 'tis right : you were ſo Alifander.

Bir. Pompay the great.

Clo. Your ſervant and Coſſard.

Bir. Take away the Conqueror, take away Alifander.

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

Loves Labour's loft.

142

this: your Lion that holds his Pollax fitting on a clof
ftoole, will be given to Ajax. He will be the ninth wor-
thy. A Conqueror, and afraid to fpeake? Runne away
for ſhame Alſander. There an't thall pleafe you: a foo-
lifh mild man, an honest man, looke you, and foone daſht.
He is a marvellous good neighbour infooth, and a very
good Bowler: but for Alſander, alas you fee, how'tis a
little ore-parted. But there are Worthies a comming,
will ſpeake their mind in ſome other fort.

Clo. Stand alide good Pompey.

Exit Clo.

Enter Pedants for Iudas, and the Boy for Hercules.

Ped. Great Hercules is prefented by this Impe,
Whole Club kil'd Cerberus that three-headed Cains,
And when he was a babe, a child, a ſhrimpe,
Thus did he ftrangle Serpents in his Manus :

Quoniam, he feemeth in minority,

Ergo, I come with this Apology.

Keepe ſome ſtate in thy Exit, and vanifh.

Exit Boy.

Pd. Iudas I am.

Dum. A Iudas?

Ped. Not Iſcariot fir.

Indas I am yclipt d. Machabens,

Dum. Indas Machabens clipt, is plaine Indas.

Bir. A kifſing traitor. How art thou prov'd Iudas?

Ped. Iudas I am.

Dum. The more ſhame for you Indas.

Ped. What meane you fir ?

Boy. To make Iudas hang himſelfe.

Ped. Begin fir, you are my elder.

Bir. Well follow'd, Iudas was hang'd on an Elder.

Ped. I will not be put out of countenance.

Bir. Because thou haſt no face.

Ped. What is this.

Boy, A Citterne head.

Dum. The head of a bodkin.

Bir. A deaths face in a ring.

Lon. The face of an old Roman coyne, ſcarce ſeene.

Boy. The pummell of Cefars Faulchion.

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

Bir. Saint Georges halſe ччеke in a brooch.

Dum. I, and in a brooch of Lead.

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

And now forward, for we have put thee in countenance.

Ped. You have put me out of countenance.

Bir. Fale, we have given thee faces.

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

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

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

And so adieu Iweet Iude. Nay, why doth thou ſtay?

Dum. For the latter end of his name.

Bir. For the Affet to the Iude : give it him. Ind-as a-
way.

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

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

Prin. Alas poore Machabens, how hath he beene
baited.

Enter Braggart.

Bir. Hide thy head Aehilles, heere comes Heſtor in
Armes.

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

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

Boy. But is this Heſtor?

Kin. I thinke Heſtor was not ſo cleane timber'd.

Lon. His legge is too big for Heſtor.

Dum. More Calfe certaine.

Boy. No; he is beſt indued in the ſmall.

Bir. This can'ot be Heſtor.

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

Brag. The Armipotent Mares, of Launces the almighty,
gave Heſtor a gift.

Dum. A gilt Nutmegge.

Bir. A Lemmon.

Lon. Stucke with Cloves.

Dum. Nocloven.

Brag. The Armipotent Mars, of Launces the almighty,
Gave Heſtor a gift, the beive of Iliou;

A man ſo breathed, that certaine he would fight: yea

From morne till night, out of his Pavillion.

I am that Flower.

Dum. That Mint.

Long. That Cullambine.

Brag. Sweet Lord Longavile reine thy tongue.

Lon. I muſt rather give it the reine : for it runneth
gainſt Heſtor.

Dum. I, and Heſtor'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 device;

Sweet Royalty beſtow on me the Sence of hearing.

Birone ſteps forth.

Prin. Speake brave Heſtor, we are much delighted.

Brag. I doe adore thy ſweet Graces ſlipper.,

Boy. Loves her by the foot.

Dum. He may not by the yard.

Brag. This Heſtor ſarre ſurmounte & Hanniball.

The party is gone.

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

Brag. What meaneſt thou ?

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

Brag. Doſt thou infamize me among Potentares?
Thou haſt dye.

Clo. Then shall Heſtor be whipt for Iaquevetia that
is quicke by him, and hang'd for Pompey, that is dead by
him.

Dum. Moſt rare Pompey.

Boy. Renowned Pompey.

Bir. Greater then great, great, great, great Pompey :
Pompey the huge.

Dum. Heſtor trembles.

Bir. Pompey is moved, more Atees more Atees flirre
them, or ſtirre them on.

Dum. Heſtor will challenge him.

Bir. I, if a have no more mans blood in's belly, then
will ſupa a Flea.

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

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

Dum. Roome for the incenſed Worthies.

Clo. Ile doe it in my ſhirt.

Dum. Moſt reſolute Pompey.

Page. After, let me take you a button hole lower :
Doe you not fee Pompey is uncaking for the combat: what
meane

["All's well that Ends well.", "Does not believe him. O behold this Ring,\nWhole high respect and rich validity\nDid lacke a Paralell: yet for all that\nHe gave it to a Commoner a' th Campe\nIf I be one.", "", "", "", "", "Toun. He blushes, and 'tis hit :", "Of fixe preceding Anceftors, that Iemme\nConfer'd by teftament to' th' feqvent ille", "", "Hath it beene owed and worne. This is his wife,\nThat Rings's a thoufand proofes.", "Kin. Methought you faid", "You faw one here in Court could witneſſe it.", "Dia. I did my Lord, but loath am to produce", "So bad an instrument, his name's Parrolles.", "Laf. I faw the man to day, if man he be.", "Kiu. Find him, and bring him hither.", "Rof. What of him ?", "He's quoted for a moſt perfidious ſtave", "With all the (pots a' th world, taxt and deboſh'd,\nWhole nature ſickens: but to ſpeake a truth,", "Am I, or that or this, for what he'll utter,", "That will ſpeake any thing.", "Kin. She hath that Ring of yours.", "Rof. I thinke ſhe has ; certaine it is I lik'd her,", "And boorded her i' th wanton way of youth :", "She knew her diſtance, and did angle of me,", "Madding my eagerneſſe with her reſtraint,", "As all impediments in ſancies courſe", "Are moſtives of more ſancty, and in fine,", "Her inſuſit comming with her moderne grace,", "Subdu'd me to her rate, the got the Ring", "And I had that which any inferior might", "At Market price have bought.", "Dia. I muſt be patient :", "You that have turn'd off a firſt ſo noble wife,", "May juaſtly dyet me. I pray you yet,", "(Since you lacke vertue, I will loſe a husband)", "Send for your Ring, I will returne it home,", "And give me mine againe.", "Rof. I have it not.", "Kin. What Ring was yours I pray you ?", "Dia. Sir much like the fame upon your finger.", "Kin. Know you this Ring, this Ring was his of late.", "Dia. And this was it I gave him being a bed.", "Kiu. The ſtory then goes ſale, you threw it him", "Out of a Cafement.", "Dia. I have ſpoke the truth.", "Enter Parolles.", "Rof. My Lord, I doe confefſe the ring was hers.", "Km. You boggle ſtreſſely, every feather ſtarts you :", "Is this the man you ſpeake of ?", "Dia. I, my Lord.", "Kin. Tell me firrah, but tell me true I charge you,", "Not fearing the diſpleaſure of your maſter :", "(Which on your juit proceeding, I keepe off)", "By him and by this woman here, what know you ?", "Par. So pleafe your Majefty, my maſter hath beene an", "honorable Gentlemen. Trickers he hath had in him,\nwhich Gentiemen have.", "Kin. Come, come, to' th' purpose : Did he love this\nwoman?", "Par. Faith fir he did love her, but how !", "Kin. How I pray you ?", "Par. He did love her fir, as a Gent. loves a Woman.", "Kiu. How is that ?", "Par. He lov'd her fir, and lov'd her not.", "Kin. As thou art a Knave and no Knave, what an equi-", "vocall Companion is this ?", "Par. I am a poore man, and at your Maſeſties com-\nmand.", "Laf. He's a good drumme my Lord, but a naughty O-\nrator,", "Dia. Doe you know he promiſe me marriage?", "Par. Faith I know more then I ſpeake.", "Kin. But wilt thou not ſpeake all thou know't ?", "Par. Yes ſo pleafe your Majefty : I did goe betweene\nthem as I faid, but more then that he loved her, for in-\ndeed he was madde for her, and talkt of Sathan, and of\nLimbo, and of Furies, and I know not what: yet I was in\nthat credit with them at that time, that I knew of their\ngoing to bed, and of other motions, as promiſing her\nmarriage, and things which would derive me ill to will\nſpeake of, therefore I will not ſpeake what I know.", "Kin. Thou haſt ſpoken all already, unleſe thou canſt\nſay they are married, but thou art too fine in thy evidence,\ntherefore ſtand afide. This Ring you ſay was yours.", "Dia. I my good Lord.", "Kin. Where did you buy it ? Or who gave it you ?", "Dia. It was not given me, nor I did not buy it.", "Kin. Who lent it you ?", "Dia. It was not lent me neither.", "Kin. Where did you find it then ?", "Dia. I found it not.", "Kin. If it were yours by none of all theſe wayes,\nHow could you give it him ?", "Dia. I never gave it him.", "Laf. This woman's an caſe glove my Lord, ſhe goes\noff and on at pleaſure.", "Kin. This Ring was mine, I gave it his firſt wife.", "Dia. It might be yours or hers for ought I know.", "Kin. Take her away, I doe not like her now,", "To prifon with her : and away with him,", "Vneſſe thou telft me where thou hadſt this Ring,", "Thou diſt within this houre.", "Dia. Ile never tell you.", "Kin. Take her away.", "Dia. Ile put in baile my liede.", "Kin. I thinke thee now ſome common Cuctomer.", "Dia. By love if ever I knew man'twas you.", "Kin. Wherefore haſt thou accuſed him all this while?", "Dia. Because he's guilty, and he is not guilty :", "He knowes I am no Maid, and he'll ſweare too't:", "Ile ſweare I am a Maid, and he knowes not.", "Great King I am no ſtrumpet, by my life,", "I am either Maid, or elle this old mans wife,", "Kin. She does abufe our cares, to prifon with her.", "Dia. Good mother fetch my bayle. Stay Royall fir,", "The leweller that owes the Ring is ſent for,", "And he ſhall ſurety me. But for this Lord,", "Who hath abus'd me as he knowes himſelfe,", "Though yet he never barn'd me, heere I quit him.", "He knowes himſelfe my bed he hath defil'd,", "And at that time he got his wife w ith child :", "Dead though ſhe be, ſhe feeles her yong one kiſſe:", "So there's my riddle, one that's dead is quicke,", "And now behold the meaning.", "Enter Hellen and Widdow.", "Kin. Is there no exorcift", "Beguiles the truer Office of mine eyes ?", "Is't reall that I fee ?", "Hel. No my good Lord,", "Y", {"bbox": [796, 1348, 82

All's well that Ends well.

254

Tis but the shadow of a wife you fee,
The name, and not the thing.

Ref. Both, both, O pardon.

Hel. Oh my good Lord, when I was like this Maid,
I found you wondrous kind, there is your Ring,
And looke you, heere's your letter : this it fayes,
When from my finger you can get this Ring,
And is by me with child, &c. This is done,
Will you be mine now you are doubly wonne ?

Ref. If the my Liege can make me know this clearely,
Ile love her dearely, ever, ever dearely.

Hel. If it appeare not plaine, and prove untrue,
Deadly divorce step betweene me and you.

O my deere mother, doe I fee you living?

Laf. Mine eyes smell Onions, I shall weepe anon :
Good Tom Drumme lend me a handkercher.
So I thanke thee, waite on me home, Ile make s port with
thee : Let thy curfies alone, they are scurvy ones.

King. Let us from point to point this story know,
To make the even truth in pleasure flow :
If thou beest yet a fresh uncropped flower,
Choofe thy thy husband, and lie pay thy dowet.
For I can gueſſe, that by thy honest ayde,
Thou keeptſt a wife her ſelfe, thy ſelfe a Maide.
Of that and all the progreſſe more and leſſe,
Reſoldy'dly more leaſure ſhall expreſſe :
All yet ſeemes well, and if it end so meete,
The bitter paſt, more welcome is the ſweet.

Flourish.

T He Kings a Begger, now the play is done.
All is well ended, if this ſuite be wonne,
That you expreſſe Content : which we will pay,
With strike to please you, day exceeding day :
Ours be your patience then, and yours our parts,
Your gentle hands lend us, and take our hearts. Excutt onm.

FJNJS.

Tvelfe Night, Or what you will.

Actus Primus. Scena Prima.

Enter Orfino Duke of Illyria, Curio, and other Lords.

Duke,

If Muficke be the food of Loue, play on,
Give me excelle of it: that furfetting,
The appetite may ficken, and fo dye.
That iftraine agen, it had a dying fall:

O, it came ore my care, like the fweet found

That breathes upon a banke of Violets ;

Stealing, and giving Odour. Enough, no more,

'Tis not to fweet now, as it was before.

O fpirit of Love, how quicke and fresh art thou,

That notwithstanding thy capacity,

Receiveth as the Sea. Nought enters there,

Of what validity, and pitch fo ere,

But falles into abatement, and low price,

Even in a minute; fo full of shapes is fancy,

That it alone is high fantaftical.

Cur. Will you goe hunt my Lord ?

Du. What Curio ?

Cur. The Hart.

Du. Why fo I doe, the Nobleft that I have :

O when mine eyes did fee Olivia firſt,

Me thought the purg'd the ayre of perfuileſe ;

That inflant was I turn'd into a Hart,

And my defires like fell and cruell hounds,

Ere ſince purſue me, How now what newes from her ?

Enter Valentine.

Val. So pleafe my Lord, I might not be admitted,
But from her handmaid doe returne this anſwer :

The Element it ſelfe, till feven yeares heate,

Shall not behold her face at ample view :

But like a Cloyſtreſſe the will vailed walke,

And water once a day her Chambers round

With eye-ofſending brine : all this to feafon

A brothers dead love, which ſhe would keepe fresh

And laſting, in her ſad remembrance.

Du. O the that hath a heart of that fine frame

To pay this debt of love but to a brother,

How will the love, when the rich golden ſhaft

Hath kill'd the flocke of all affections ſelfe

That live in her. When Liver, Braine, and Heart,

Theſe coveraigne thrones, are all ſupply'd and fill'd

Her fweet perfections with one ſelfe fame king :

Away before me, to fweet beds of Flowres,

Love-thoughts lye rich, when canopy'd with bowres.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Viola, a Captaine, and Saylors.

Vio. What Country (Friends) is this?

Cap. This is Illyria Lady.

Vio. And what ſhould I doe in Illyria ?

My brother he is in Elizium,

Perchance he is not drown'd: What thinke you faylors?

Cap. It is perchance that you your ſelfe were faved.

Vio. O my poore brother, and fo perchance may he be.

Cap. True Madam, and to comfort you with chance.

Aflure your ſelfe, after our ſhip did fplit,

When you, and thofe poore number faved with you,

Hung on our driving boate: I faw your brother

Moft provident in perill, binde himſelfe,

(Courage and hope both teaching him the practice)

To a ſtrong Maſte, that liv'd upon the sea:

Where like Orion on the Dolphines backe,

I faw him hold acquaintance with the waves,

So long as I could fee.

Vio. For faying fo, there's Gold :

Mine owne eſcape unfoldeth to my hope,

Whereto thy ſpeech ſerves for authority.

The like of him. Know't thou this Country ?

Cap. I Madam well, for I was bred and borne

Not three hours travaile from this very place ?

Vio. Who governs here?

Cap. A noble Duke in nature, as in name.

Vio. What is his name ?

Cap. Orſino.

Vio. Orſino ! I have heard my father name him.

He was a Batchellor then.

Cap. And fo is now, or was fo very late :

For but a moneth ago I went from hence,

And then 'twas fresh in murmur (as you know

What great ones doe, the leſſe will prattle of)

That he did feeke the love of faire Olivia.

Vio. What's ſhe ?

Cap. A vertuous maid, the daughter of a Count,
That di'd ſome twelvemonth ſince, then leaving her

In the protection of his ſonne, her brother,

Who ſhortly alſo di'd: for whoſe deere love

(I they ſay) ſhe had abjur'd the fight

And company of men.

Vio. O that I ſerv'd that Lady,

And might not be delivered to the world

Y 2

Till

Twelfe Night, or, What you will.

Till I had made mine owne occasion mellow
What my eftate is.

Cap. That were hard to compafle,
Because he will admit no kind of suite,
No not the Dukes.

Vio. There is a faire behaviour in thee Captaine,
And though that nature, with a beauteous wall
Doth o'to clofe in pollution : yet of thee
I will beleeve thou haft a mind that fuites
With this thy faire and outward character,
I prethee (and Ile pay thee bounteoufly)
Conceale me what I am, and be my ayde,
For such difguife as haply fhall become
The forme of my intent. Ile ferve this Duke,
Thou fhalt prefent me as an Eunuch to him,
It may be worth thy paines : for I can fing,
And fpeaketo him in many forts of Muficke,
That will allow me very worth his fervice.
What elfe may hap, to time I will commit,
Onely fhape thou thy filence to my wit.

Cap. Be you his Eunuch, and your Mute Ile be,
When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not fee.

Vio. I thanke thee: Lead me on.

Exeunt.

## Scena Tertia.

Enter Sir Toby, and Maria.

Sir To. What a plague meanes my Neece to take the
death of her brother thus? I am fure care's an enemy to
life.

Mar. By my broth fir Toby, you muſt come in earlyer
a n ight s : you Cofin, my Lady, takes great exceptions
to your ill hours.

To. Why let her except, before excepted.

Mar. I, but you muſt confine your ſelfe within the
modeſt limits of order.

To. Confine ? Ile confine my ſelfe no finer then I am:
theſe cloathes are good enough to drinke in, and ſo be
theſe boots too : and they be not, let them hang them-
felves in their owne ſtraps.

Mar. That quaſſing and drinking will undoe you : I
heard my Lady talke of it yefterday : and of a foolish
knight that you brought in one night here, to be her

To. Who, Sir Andrew Ague-cheeke.

(wooer.)

Ma. I he.

To. He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria.

Ma. What's that to th' purpose ?

To. Why he ha's three thoufand ducats a yeere.

Ma. I, but he'll have but a yeare in all theſe ducates:
He's a very ſoole, and a prodigall.

To. Fye, that you'll fay ſo: he playes o'th Viol-de-gam-
boys, and ſpeakes three or foure languages word for
word without booke, & haſt all the good gifts of nature.

Mar. He hath indeed, almoſt naturall : for befides that
he's a ſoole, he's a great quarreller: and but that he hath
the gift of a Coward, to allay the guſt he hath in quarreling,
'tis thought among the prudent, he would quickly
have the gift of a grave.

Tob. By this hand they are ſoundrels and ſubſtrac-
tors that fay ſo of him. Who are they ?

Mar. They that adde moreover, he's drunke nightly
in your company.

To. With drinking healths to my Neece: Ile drinke

to her as long as there is a paſſage in my throat, and drink
in Illyria: he's a Coward and a Coyſtrill that will not
drinke to my Neece, till his braines turne o'th toe, like a
parſh top. What wench ? Castiliano vulgo: for here
comes Sir Andrew Ague face.

Enter Sir Andrew.

And. Sir Toby Belch. How now Sir Toby Belch?

To. Sweet fir Andrew.

And. Bleſſe you faire Shrew.

Mar. And you too fir.

Tob. Accolt Sir Andrew, accoſt.

And. What's that?

To. My Neece's Chamber-maid.

An. Good Miftris accoſt, I defire better acquaintances.

Ma. My name is Mary fir.

And. Good miftris Mary, accoſt.

To. You miftake knight : Accoſt, is front her, board
her, wooe her, aſſayle her.

An. By my troth I would not undertake her in this
company. Is that the meaning of Accoſt?

Mar. Farcy ouwell Gentlemen.

To. And thou let part fo Sir Andrew, would thou
michtſt never draw ſword agen.

And. And you part fo miltris, I would I might never
draw ſword agen; Faire Lady, doe you thinke you have
fooles in hand?

Ma. Sir, I have not you by't hand.

An. Marry but you ſhall have, and heeres my ha d.

Mar. Now fir, thought is free: I pray you bring your
hand to'th Buttery barre, and let it drinke.

An. Wherefore (sweet-heart?) What's your Metaphor?

Mar. It's dry fir.

An. Why I thinke ſo: I am not ſuch an affe, but I
can keepe my hand dry. But what's your jeſt ?

Ma. A dry jeſt Sir.

And. Are you full of them?

Ma. I Sir, I have them at my fingers ends: marry now
I let goe your hand, I am barren.
Exis Maria.

Tob. O knight, thou lackes it a cup of Canary : when
did I fee theſe fo put downe ?

And. Never in your life I thinke, unleſſe you ſen-
cary put downe : me thinkes ſometimes I have no more
wit then a Chriſtian, or an ordinary mans ha's : but I
ama great eater of beefe, and I beleeve that does harme
to my wit.

To. No quetion.

An. And I thought that, I'de forſwreare it. Ile ride
home to morrow fir Toby.

To. Pur-guoy my deere knight ?

An. What is purguy? Doe; or not doe? I would I had
beſowed that time in the tongues, that I have in fencing
dancing, and beare-bayting: O had I but followed the
Arts.

To. Then hadst thou had an excellent head of haire.

An. Why, would that have mended my haire?

To. Paſt quetion, for thou ſeelt it will not coole my

An. But it becomes me well enough, doſt not? (nature

To. Excellent, it hangs like flax on a diſtaffe; and I hope
to fee a hufwife take thee between her legs, & ſpin it off.
An. Faith, Ile home to morrow fir Toby, your niece will
not be ſeene, or if ſhe be it's four to one, ſhe'll none of me;
the Count himſelfe here hard by, wooes her.

To. ſhe'll none o'th Count, ſhe'll not match above her
degree, neither in eſtate, yeares, nor wit: I have heard her
ſware. Tut there's life in't man.

And.

258 Twelfth Night, or, What you will.

As there is no true Cuckold but calamity, so foantie's a
flower; The Lady bad take away the foole; therefore I fay
againe, take her away.

Ol. Sir, I bad them take away you.

Clo. Misprifion in the highest degree. Lady, Cucullus
non faci: monachum : that's as much to fay, as I wearre not
motley in my braine : good Madona, give me leave to
prove you a foole.

Ol. Can you doe it?

Clo. Dexteriorly, good Madona.

Ol. Make your proofe.

Clo. I muft catechize you for it Madona, Good my
Mouſe of vertue anſwer me.

Ol. Weil fir, for want of other idlenſeſſe, Ile bide your
proofe.

Clo. Good Madona, why mournſt thou ?

Ol. Good foole, for my brothers death.

Clo. I thinke his foule is in hell, Madona.

Ol. I know his foule is in heaven, foole.

Clo. The more foole (Madona) to mourne for your
Brothers foule, being in heaven. Take away the foole,
Gentlemen.

Ol. What thinke you of this foole Malvolio, doth he
not mend?

Mal. Yes, and ſhall doe, till the pangs of death ſhake
him: Infirmity that decaies the wife, doth ever make the
better foole.

Clo. God fend you fir, a ſpeedy Infirmity, for the better increaſing your folly : Sir Toby will be ſworne that I am no Fox, but he will not paffe his word for twopence that you are no foole.

Ol. How ſay you to that Malvolio ?

Mal. I marvell your Ladyſhip takes delight in ſuch
a barren raſcali: I faw him put downe the other day, with
an ordinary foole, that has no more braine then a ſtone.
Looke you now, he's out of his gard already: unleſſe you
laugh and minifter occafion to him, he is gag'd. I proteſt
I take heſe Wifemen, that crow ſo at the ſet ſet kind of
fooles, no better then the fooles Zanies.

Ol. O you are ſicke of ſelfe-love Malvolio, and taſe
with a diſtemper'd appetite. To be generous, guittelſe,
and of free diſposition, is to take thate things for Bird-
bolts, that you deeme Cannon bullets: There is no ſlan-
der in an allowing'd foole, though he does nothing but rayle;
nor no rayling, in a knowne diſcreet man, though he does
nothing but reprove.

Clo. Now Mercury indude thee with leaſing, for thou
ſpeak't well of fooles.

Enter Maria.

Mar. Madam, there is at the gate, a young Gentleman, much defires to ſpeak with you.

Ol. From the Count Orſino, is it?

Ma. I know not (Madam) 'tis a faire young man, and
well attended.

Ol. Who of my people hold him in delay ?

Ma. Sir Toby Madam, your kinfiman.

Ol. Fetch him off I pray you, he ſpeakes nothing but
madman: Fye on him. Goe you Malvolio; If it be a
suite from the Count, I am ſicke, or not at home. What
you will, to diſmiffle it.

Exit Malvo.

Now you ſee fir, how your fooling growes old, and
people diſlike it.

Clo. Thou haſt ſpoke for us (Madona) as if thy eldeſt
fonne should be a foole: whole ſcull, Iove crammne with
braines, for heere he comes.

Enter Sir Toby.

One of thy kin has a moſt weake Pia-mater.

Ol. By mine honor halſe drunke. What is he at the
gate Cofin?

To. A Gentleman.

Ol. A Gentleman? What Gentleman?

To. 'Tis a Gentleman here. A plague o'theſe pickle
herring: How now Sot.

Clo. Good Sir Toby.

Ol. Cofin, Cofin, how have you come ſo careſly by
this Lethargy?

Tob. Letchery, I defie Letchery : there's one at the
gate.

Ol. I marry, what is he ?

To. Let him be the divell and he will. I care not: give
me faith ſay I. Well, it's all one.

Exit.

Ol. What's a drunk man like, foole?

Clo. Like a drown'd man, a foole, and a mad man:
One draught aboue heate, makes him a foole, the ſecond
maddes him, and a third drownes him.

Clo. Goe thou and fecke the Crowner, and let him fir
o'my Coz: for he's in the third degree of drinke: he's
drown'd: goe looke after him.

Cloz. He is but mad yet Madona, and the foole ſhall
looke to the madman.

Enter Malvolio.

Mal. Madam, yond young fellow ſweares hee will ſpeake with you. I told him you were ſicke, he takes on him to underſand ſo much, and therefore comes to ſpeake with you. I told him you were ſaſſepe, he feemes to have a ſfore knowledge of that too, and therefore comes to ſpeake with you. What is to be ſaid to him. Lady, he's fortified againſt any denial.

Ol. Tell him, he ſhall not ſpeake with me.

Mal. Ha's beene told ſo : and he ſayes he'll ſland at
your doore like a ſheriffes poſt, and be the ſupporter to
a bench, but he'll ſpeake with you.

Ol. What kind o'man is he ?

Mal. Why of mankind.

Ol. What manner of man ?

Mal. Of very il manner: he'll ſpeake with you, will
you, or no.

Ol. Of what perſonage, and yeeres is he ?

Mal. Not yet old enough for a man, nor young enough
for a boy: as a quafch is before tis a peſcod, or a Codling
when tis almoſt an Apple : Tis with him in standing wa-
ter, betweene boy and man. He is very well-favou'd,
and he ſpeakes very ſhrewſibly : One would thinke his
mothers milke were ſcarſe out of him.

Ol. Let him approach : Call in my Gentlewoman.

Mal. Gentlewoman, my Lady calls.

Exit.

Enter Maria.

Ol. Give me my vaile: come throw it ore my face,
We'll once more heare Orſinos Embaſſe.

Enter Viola.

Viò. The honorable Lady of the houſe, which is ſhe?

Ol. ſpeake to me, I ſhall anſwer for her : your will.

Viò. Moſt radiant, exquiſite, and unmatchable bea-
uty. I pray you tell me if this be the Lady of the houſe,
for I never faw her. I would be loath to caſt away my
ſpeech: for beſides that it is excellently well pended, I have
taken great paines to con it. Good Beauties, let me ſu-
flaine no ſcorne; I am very comptible, even to the leaſt
minifter vſage.

Ol. Whence came you fir ?

Viò. I can ſay little more then I have ſtudied, and that
question's out of my part. Good gentle one, give me
modeſt affurranſe, if you be the Lady of the houſe, that

269

Fate, fhew thy force, our felves we doe not owe.
What is decreed, muft be : and be this fo.

Finis, *Actus primi*.

## *Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.*

*Enter Antonio, and Sebastian.*

*An.* Will you fly no longer : nor will you not that I goe with you?

*Seb.* By your patience, no : my ftarres fhine darkely over me ; the malignancy of my fate, might perhaps diſtemper yours, therefore I fhall crave of you your leave, that I may beate my evills alone. It were a bad recompence for your love, to lay any of them on you.

*An.* Let me yet know of you, whither you are bound.

*Seb.* No foothir, my determinate voyage is more extravagancy. But I perceive in you ſo excellent a touch of modellty, that you will not extort from me, what I am willing to keepe in : therefore it charges me in manners, the rather to exprefle my ſelfe : you muſt know ot me then Antonio, my name is Sebastian (which I call'd Roderigo) my father was that Sebastian of Melfaline, whom I know you have heard of. He left behind him, my ſelfe, and a filter, both borne in an houre: if the Heavens had beene pleaf'd, would we had to ended. But you fir, alter'd that, for ſome houre before you tooke me from the breach of the ſea, was my filter drown'd.

*An.* Alast the day!

*Seb.* A Lady fir, though it was faid ſhe much reſembled me, was yet of many accounted beautifull; but though I could not with ſuch eſtimable wonder over-farre beleeve that, yet thus farre I will boldly publifh her, ſhe bore a mind that envy could not but call faire : ſhee is drown'd already fir with ſalt water, though I ſeeme to drowne her remembrance againe with more.

*Ant.* Pardon me fir, your bad entertainment.

*Seb.* O good Antonio, forgive me your trouble.

*Ant.* If you will not murther me for my love, let me be your ſervant.

*Seb.* If you will not undoe what you have done, that is kill him, whom you have recoou'd, defire it not. Fare ye well at once, my boſome is full of kindneſſe, and I am yet ſo neere the manners of my mother, that upon the leaſt occafion more, mine eyes will tell tales of me : I am bound to the Count Orfino's Court, farewell.

*Exit.*

*An.* The gendeneſſe of all the gods goe with thee : I have many enemies in Orſino's Court, Eſſe would I very ſhortly fee thee there : But come what may, I doe adore thee ſo, That danger ſhall ſeeme ſport, and I will goe.

*Exit.*

## *Scena Secunda.*

*Enter Viola, and Malvolio, at ſeverall doores.*

*Mal.* Were not you en'now, with the Counteſſe Olivia ?

*Vio.* Even now fir, on a moderatepace, I have ſince ariv'd but hither.

*Mal.* She returns this Ring to you (fir) you might have fav'd me my paines, to have taken it away your ſelfe. She adds moreover, that you should put your Lord

into a deſperate affurance, ſhe will none of him. And one thing more, that you be never ſo hardy to come againe in his affaires, unleſſe it be to report your Lords taking of this : receive itto.

*Vio.* She tooke the Ring of me, Ilen none of it.

*Mal.* Come fir, you pceſively threw it to her : and her will is, it ſhould be ſo return'd : If it be worth floo-ping for, there it lyes, in your eye : if not, be it his that finds it.

*Exit.*

*Vio.* I left no Ring with her: what means this Lady ? Fortune forbid my outſide have not charm'd her: She made good view of me, indeed ſo much, That ſure me thought her eyes had left her tongue, For ſhe did ſpeake in flarts diſtractedly.

She loves me ſure, the cunning of her paffion
Invites me in this churlifsh meſtenger :
None of my Lords Ring ? Why he ſent her none ?
I am the man, if it be to as,

Poore Lady, ſhe were better love a dreame:
Difguife, I ſee thou art a wickedneſſe,
Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.

How eafe is it, for the proper ſalfé
In womens waxen hearts to fet their formes :

Alas, our frailty is the caufe, not we,
For ſuch as we are made, if ſuch we be:
How will this fadge ? My maſter loves her deereſt,
And I (poore monſter) fond aſt much on him :
And ſhe (miftaken) ſeemeſt to dote on me :
What will become of this ? As I am man,
My ſtate is desperate for my maſters love :
As I am woman (now alas the day)

What thiftleſſe fighes ſhall poore Olivia breathe ?
O time, thou muſt untangle this, not I,
It is too hard a knot for me t unty.

## *Scena Tertia.*

*Enter Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew.*

*Tob.* Approach Sir Andrew: not to be a bed after midnight, is to be up betimes; and *Diliculo furgere*, thou know it.

*And.* Nay by my troth I know not : but I know, to be up late, is to be up late.

*To.* A falſe conclusion: I hate it as an unfill'd Canne, To be up after midnight, and to goe to bed then is early: ſo that to goe to bed after midnight, is to goe to bed be-times. Does not our lives conſift of the four ſlements ?

*An.* Faith ſo they ſay, but I thinke it rather conſilts of eating and drinking.

*To.* Th'art a ſcholler; let us therefore eate and drinke,
*Marian* I ſay, a floope of wine.

*Enter Clowne.*

*And.* Heere comes the foolc y faith.

*Clo.* How now my hearts: Did you never fee the Picture of we three?

*To.* Welcome affe, now let's have a catch.

*And.* By my troth the fool has an excellent breaſt. I had rather then forty ſhillings I had ſuch a legge, and ſo wee a breath to ſing, as the foolc has. Infooth thou waſt in very gracious fooling laſt night, when thou ſpok'ſt of *Pigrogromitus*, of the *Vapians* paſſing the Equinoctiall of *Queubus*: 'twas very good yfaith: I ſent thee ſixpence for

Twelfth Night, or What you will.

for thy Lemon, hadst it?

Clo. I did impetico sthy gratillity: for Malvolios nofe
isno Whip-flocke. My Lady has a white hand, and the
Mermidons are no bottle-ale houfes.

Au. Excellent: Why this is the beft fooling, when
all is done. Now a fong.

To. Come on, there is fixe pence for you. Let's have a fong.

An. There's a teftrill of me too: if one knight give a-

Clo. Would you have a love-fong, or a fong of good
life?

To. A love fong, a love fong.

An. I, I. I care not for good life.

Clowne fings.

O Miftris mine where are you voming ?

O stay and beare, your true loves coming,

That can fang both high and low.

Trip no further pretty fweeting.

Journeys and in lovers meeting.

Every wife mans (onne doth know.

An. Excellent good, it aith.

To. Good, good.

Clo. What is love, 'tis not hereafter,

Present mirth, bath present laughter :

What's to come, is still unfure.

Indelay there eyes no plenty,

Then come kiffe me sweet and twenty :

Tonths a fluffe will not endure.

An. A mellifluous voyce, as I am true knight.

To. A contagious breath.

An. Very fweet, and contagious ifaith.

To. To heare by the noſe, it is dulcet in contagion.

But ſhall we make the Welkin dance indeed? Shall we
rowze the night-Owle in a Catch that will drawe three
foules out of one Weaver ? Shall we doe that?

And, And you love me, let's doot: I am dogge at a
Catch.

Clo. Byrlady fir, and fome dogs will catch well.

And. Moll certaine: Let our Catch be, *Thou Knane.*

Clo. Hold thy peace, thou Knave, Knight. I ſhall be con-
frain'd in't, to call thee Knave, Knight.

An. 'Tis not the firſt time I have conſtrained one to
call me knave. Begin foolerie: it begins, *Hold thy peace.*

Clo. I ſhall never begin if I hold my peace.

Au. Good ifaith: Come begin.

Catch ſung.

Enter Maria.

Mar. What a catterwalling doeyou keepe heere? If
my Lady have not call'd up her Steward Malvolio, and
bid him turne you out of doors, never truſt me.

To. My Lady's a Catayn, we are politicians, Malvolios
a peg-a-ramſie, and Three merry men be we. Am not I
containingious? Am I not of her blood: tily vally. La-
dy! There dwelt a man in Babylon, Lady, Lady.

Clo. Behrew me, the knight's in admirable feeling.

An. I, he do's well enough if he be diſpoſ'd, and ſo doe I too: he does it with a better grace, but I doe it more naturall.

To. O the twelfe day of December.

Mar. For the love o'God peace.

Enter Malvolio.

Mal. My maſters are you mad ? Or what are you?
Have you no wit, manners, nor honefy, but to gabble
like Tinkers at this time of night? Doe yee make an Ale-
houſe of my Ladies houſe, that ye ſqueak out your Cozi-
ers Catches without any mitigation or remorſe of voyce?
Is there no reſpect of place, perſons, nor time in you ?

To. We did keepe time fir in our Catches, Snecke up,

Mal. Sir Toby, I muſt be round with you. My Lady
bad me tell you, that though ſhe harbors you as her kinf-
man, ſhe's nothing ally'd to your diſorders. If you can
ſeparate your ſelfe and your miſdemeanors, you are wel-
come to the houſe: if not, and it would pleafe you to take
leave of her, ſhe is very willing to bid you farewell.

To. Farewell deere heart, ſince I muſt needs be gone.

Mar. Nay good Sir Toby.

Clo. His eyes doe ſhow his dayes are almost done.

Mal. Is't even so?

To. But I will neverly dye.

Clo. Sir Toby there you lye.

Mal. This is much credit to you.

To. Shall I bid him goe?

Clo. What and if you doe?

To. Shall I bid him goe, and ſpare not?

Clo. O no, no, no, no, you dare not.

To. Out o'tune fir, ye lye: Art any more then a Stew.
ard? Doſt thou thinke becauſe thou art vertuous, there
ſhall be no more Cakes and Ale?

Clo. Yes by S. Amie, and Ginger ſhall be hot, y'th
mouth too.

To. Th'art it right. Goe fir, rub your Chaine with
crums. A ſtope of Wine Maria.

Mal. Miftris Mary, if you priz'd my Ladyes favour
at any thing more then contempt, you would not give
meanees for this uncivil rule; ſhe ſhall know of it by this
hand.

Exit.

Mar. Goe ſhake your eares.

An. 'Twere as good a deed as to drinke when a mans
a hungry, to challenge him the field, and then to breake
promife with him, and make a foole of him.

To. Doo't knight, Ile write thee a Challenge for Ile
deliver thy indignation to him by word of mouth.

Mar. Sweet fir Toby be patient for to night; Since
the youth of the Counts was to day with my Lady, ſhe is
much out of quiet. For Monn'cur Malvolio, let me alone
with him: If I do not gull him into an ay word, and make
him a common recreation, doe not thinke I have wit e-
nough to lye ſtraight in my bed: I know I can doe it.

To. Poffeſſe us, poffeſſe us, tell us ſomething of him.

Mar. Marry fir, ſometimes he is a kind of Puritane.

An. O, if I thought that, Ide beate him like a dogge.

To. What for being a Puritan, thy exquifite reafon,
deere knight.

An. I have no exquifite reafon for's, but I have reaſon
good enough.

Mar. The divil a Puritane that he is, or any thing
conſantly but a time-pleaſer, an affection'd Afle, that
Cons State without booke, and utters it by great ſwarths.
The beſt perſwaded of himſelfe to cram'd (as he thinkes)
with excellencies, that it is his ground of faith, that all
that looke on him, love him: and on that vice in him, will
my revenge find notable caufe to worke,

To. What wilt thou doe ?

Mar. I will drop in his way ſome obſcure Epiftles of
love, wherein by the colour of his beard, the ſhape of his
legge, the manner of his gate, the expreſſure of his eye,
forehead, and completion, he ſhall find himſelfe moſt
feelingly perſonated. I can write very like my Lady
your Neece, on a ſorgotten matter we can hardly make
diſtinction of our hands.

To. Excellent, I ſmell a device.

An. I hav't in my noſe too.

To. He ſhall thinke by the Letters that thou wilt dr̃op

that they come from my Neece, and that she's in love with him.

*Mar.* My purpose is indeed a horde of that colour,

*An.* And your horde now would make him an Afle.

*Mar.* Afle, I doubt not.

*An.* O twill be admirable.

*Mar.* Sport roall I warrant you : I know my Phyſicke will worke with him, I will plant you two, and let the Foole make a third, where he shall find the Letter : observe this construſion of it : For this night to bed, and dreame on the event. Farewell.

*Exit.*

*To.* Good night Penth/filea.

*An.* Before me she's a good wench.

*To.* She's a beagle, true bred, and one that adores me; what o'that?

*An.* I was ador'd once too.

*To.* Let's to bed knight: Thon hadt neeue ſend for more money.

*An.* If I cannot recover your Neece, I am a foule way out.

*To.* Send for money knight, if thou haſt her not i'th end, call me Cut.

*An.* If I do not, never truſt me, take it how you will. To. Come, come, Ile goe burne fome Sacke, tis too late to goe to bed now: Come knight, come knight.

*Exeunt.*

## Scæna Quarta.

*Enter Duke, Viola, Curio, and others.*

*Du.* Give me fome Musſicke; Now good morrow friends Now good Cefario, but that piecee of ſong, That old and Anticke ſong we heard laſt night; Me thought it did reeleve my paffion much, More then light ayres, and recollected termes Of theſe moſt briske and giddy-paced times. Come, but one verſe.

*Cu.* He is not here (ſo pleafe your Lordship) that ſhould ſing it.

*Du.* Who was it ?

*Cur.* Feſte the Lifter my Lord, a ſoole that the Lady Olivines Father tooke much delight in. He is about the houſe.

*Duk.* Seeke him out, and play the tune the while.

*Aluſicke playes.*

Come hither Boy, if ever thou ſhalt love In the fweet pangs of it, remember me ?' For ſuch as I am, all true Lovers are, Vnſtaid and skittish in all motions eſſe, Save in the conſant image of the creature That is belov'd. How doſt thou like this tune ?

*Vio.* It gives a very eccho to the ſeate Where love is thron'd.

*Du.* Thou doſt ſpeake masterly, My life upon't, yong though thou art, thine eye Hath ſtaid upon ſome favour that it loves :

Hath it not boy ?

*Vio.* A little, by your favor.

*Du.* What kind of woman is it ?

*Vio.* Of your complection.

*Du.* She is not worth the then. What yeares if aith ?

*Vio.* About your yeares my Lord.

*Du.* Too old by heaven: Let till the woman take

An elder then her ſelfe, ſo weares ſhe to him : So ſwayes ſhe levell in her husbands heart : For boy, however we doe prieſe our ſelves, Our fancies are more giddy and unſirme, More longing, wavering, ſooner loft and worne, Then womens are.

*Vio.* I thinke it well my Lord.

*Du.* Then let thy Love be yonger then thy ſelfe, Or thy affection cannot hold the bent : For women are as Rofes, whoſe faire flowre Being once diſplaid, doth fall that very hour.

*Vio.* And to they are : alas, that they are ſo : To dye, even when they to perfection grow.

*Enter Curio, and Clowne.*

*Duk.* O fellow come, the ſong we had laſt night: Marke it Cefario, it is old and plaine; The Spinners and the Knitters in the Sun, And the free maids that weave their thred with bones, Doe uſe to chant it : it is filly footh, And dallies with the innocence of love, Like the old age.

*Clo.* Are you ready Sir ?

*Duk.* I prethee ſing.

*Musſick.*

## The Song.

Come away, come away death,
And in sad cypresse let me be laid,
Eye away, ſie away breath,
I am plaine by a faire cruell maid.

My ſbrowd of white, ſlucke all with Ew, O prepare
My part of death no one ſo true did share it.

Not a flower, not a flower sweet
On my blacke coffin, let there be ſtrowne :
Not a friend, not a friend greeu
My poore corpes, where my bones (hall be throwne :
A thousand and thousand ſfishes to ſave, lay me O where
Sad true lover never find my grave, to meepe there.

*Du.* There's for thy paines.

*Clo.* No paines fir, I take pleafure in ſinging fir.

*Duk.* Ile pay thy pleafure then.

*Clo.* Truely fir, and pleafure will be paid one time, or another.

*Duk.* Give me now leave, to leave thee.

*Du.* Now the melancholly God proteſt thee, and the Tailor make thy doublet of changeable Taffata, for thy mind is a very Opall. I would have men of ſuch conſant cy put to Sea, that their buſineſſe might be every thing, and their intent every where, for that's it, that always makes a good voyage of nothing. Farewell.

*Exit.*

*Duk.* Let all the reſt give place : Once more Cefario, Get thee to yond fame ſoveraigne cruelty :

Tell her my love (more noble then the world) Prizes not quantity of dirty lands, The parts that fortune hath beſtow'd upon her,' Tell her I hold as giddily as Fortune : But 'tis that miracle, and ſoene of Jems That nature pranks her in, attraes my ſoule.

*Vio.* But if ſhe cannot love you fir.

*Du.* It cannot be ſo anſwer'd.

*Vio.* Sooth but you muſt.

Say that ſome Lady, as perhaps there is,

Hath for your love as great a pang of heart

As you have for Olivia: you cannot love her :

You tell her ſo : Muſt ſhe not then be anſwer'd ?

*Duk.* There is no woman's ſides

Can

Can bide the beating of so strong a passion,
As love doth give my heart: no woman's heart
So bigge, to hold so much, they lacke retention.

Alas' their love may be call'd appetite,
No motion of the Liver, but the Pallat,
That suffer furfet, clemention, and revolt,
But mine is all as hungry as the Sea,
And can diftleft as much, make no compare
Betweene that love a woman can beare me,
And that I owe Olivia.

Vio. I but I know.

Du. What doft thou know ?

Vio. Too well what love women to men may owe :
In faith they are as true of heart, as we.
My father had a daughter lov'd a man
As it might be perhaps, were I a woman
I should your Lordship.

Duk. And what's her hiftory ?

Vio. A blanke my Lord : the never told her love,
But let concealment like a worme i'th' budde
Feede on her damaske cheeke : the pin'd in thought,
And with a greene and yellow melancholly,
She fate like Patience on a Monument,
Smiling at graefe. Was not this love indeed ?
We men may fay more, fweare more, but indeed
Our fhowes are more then will : for ftil we prove
Much in our vowes, bur little in our love.

Du. But did thy fitter of her love my Boy ?

Vio. I am all the daughters of my Fathers houſe,
And all the brothers too : and yet I know not.
Sir, ſhall I to this Lady ?

Du. I that's the Theame,

To her in hafe ? give her this Iewell : fay,
Thy love can give no place, bide no denay.

Exeunt.

## Scena Quinta.

Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian.

To. Come thy wayes Signior Fabian,

Fab. Nay I come : if I loſe a ſcruple of this ſport,
let me be boy'd to death with Melancholly.

To. Would it thou not be glad to have the niggardly
Raſcally scepe-biter, come by ſome notable ſhame ?

Fa. I would exult man; you know he brought me out
of favour with my Lady, about a Beare-baiting here.

Te. To anger him weel have the Beare againe, and
we will foole him blacke and blew, ſhall we not fir An-
drew ?

An. And we do not, it is pitty of our lives.

Enter Maria.

To. Heere comes the little villiane: How now my
Nettle of India ?

Mar. Get ye all three into the box tree: Malvolio's
comming downe this walke, he has beene yonder i'the
Sunne prætifying behaviour to his owne ſhadow this halfe
houre : obſerve him for the love of Mockery: for I know
this Letter will make a contemplative Ideot of him. Cloſe
in the name of jeaſting, lyeth thou there : for heere comes
the Trowt, that muſt be caught with tickling.
Exit.

Enter Malvolio.

Mal. 'Tis but Fortune, all is fortune. Maria once
told me the did affect me, and I have heard her ſelfe come
thus neere, that ſhould the fancy, it ſhould be one of my
complection. Befides the uſes me with a more exalted

reſpect, then any one else that followes her. What ſhould
I thinke on't?

To. Heere's an over-weening rogue.

Fa. Oh peace: Contemplation makes a rare Turkey
Cocke of him, how he jets under his advanc'd plumes.

And. Slight I could beate the Rogue.

To. Peace I fay.

Mal. To be Count Malvolio.

To. Ah Rogue.

An. Piftoll him, piftoll him.

To. Peace, peace.

Mal. There is example for't: The Lady of the Stra-
chy, married the yeoman of the wardrobe.

An. Fye on him Iezabel.

Fa. O peace, now he's deeply in : looke how imagi-
nation blowes him.

Mal. Having beene three moneths married to her,
fitting in my ſtate.

To. O for a ſtone-bow to hit him in the eye.

Mal. Calling my Officers about me, in my branch'd
Velvet gowne : having come from a day bed, where I
have left Olivia sleeping.

To. Fire and Brimſtone.

Fa. O peace, peace.

Mal. And then to have the humor of ſtate : and after
a demure travaile of regard : telling them I know my
place, as I would they ſhould doe theirs : to aske for my
kinſman Toby.

To. Boltes and shackles.

Fa. Oh peace, peace, peace, now, now.

Mal. Scaven of my people with an obedient ſtart,
make out for him : I frowne the while, and perchance
winde up my watch, or play with my ſome rich Iewell:
Toby approaches ; curſies there to me.

To. Shall this fellow live ?

Fa. Though our ſilence be drawne from us with cares,
yet peace.

Mal. I extend my hand to him thus : quenching my
familiar ſimile with an auſtere regard of controll.

To. And do's not Teby take you a blow o' the lippes
then?

Mal. Saying, Cofine Toby, my Fortunes having caſt
me on your Neece, give me this prerogative of ſpeech:

To. What, what?

Mal. You muſt amend your drunkenneſſe.

To. Out ſcab.

Fab. Nay patience, or we brake the ſinewes of our
plot?

Mal. Befides you waſe the treasure of your time,
with a foolish knight.

Aud. That's me I warrant you:

Mal. One fir Andrew.

And. I knew 'twas I, for many doe call me foole.

Mal. What employment have we heere?

Fa. Now is the Woodcocke neere the gin.

To. Oh peace, and the ſpirit of humors intimate rea-
ding aloud to him,

Mal. By my life this is my Ladies hand: theſe be her
very C's, her V's, and her T's, and thus makes ſhe her
great P's. It is in contempt of queſtion her hand.

An. Her C's, her V's, and her T's: why that?

Mal. To the unknowne below'd, this, and my good Wifhes:
Her very Phrases: By your leave wax. Soft, and the im-
pressure her Lucrece, with which ſhe uſes to ſcale: tis my
Lady: To whom ſhould this be?

Fab. This winnes him, Liver and all.

Mal.

264

Mal. I love knoones I love, but who, Lips does not moove, no man muft know. No man muft know. What followes? The numbers alter'd: No man muft know.
If this should be thee Malvolio?

To. Marry hang thee brocke.

Mal. I may command where I adore, but silence like a Lu-
criffes knife,

With bloodlesse stroke my heart doth gore, M. O. A. I. doth fway my life.

Fa. A fuftian riddle.

To. Excellent Wench, fay I.

Mal. M. O. A. I. doth fway my life. Nay but firſt
let me fee, let me fee, let me fee.

Fab. What diſh a poyſon has the drefte him ?

To. And with what wing the ftallion checkes at it?

Mal. I may command, where I adore: Why the ſhe may command me: I ſerve her, ſhe is my Lady. Why this is evident to any formall capacity. There is no obſtruction in this, and the end; What should that Alphabetical poſition portend, if I could make that ſeme ſem ſomething in me? Softly, M. O. A. I.

To. O I, make up that, he is now at a cold ſent.

Fab. Sowter will cry upon't for all this, though it be as
ranke as a Fox.

Mal. M. Malvolio, M. Why that begins my name.

Fab. Did not I fay he would worke it out, the Curre is excellent at faults.

Mal. M. But then there is no confonancy in the ſe-
quell that ſuff ers under probation : A. should follow,
but O. does.

Fa. And O (hall end, I hope.

To. I, or Ile cudgell him, and make him cry O.

Mal. And then I. comes behind.

Fab. I, and you had any eye behind you, you might
fee more detraction at your hecles, then Fortunes before
you.

Mal. M. O. A. I. This ſimulation is not as the former:
and yet to cruſh this a little, it would bow to me, for e-
very one of theſe Letters are in my name. Soft, here fol-
lowes ſprofe: If this fall into thy hand, revolue. In my Starres
I am above thee, but be not aſſraid of greatneſſe: Some
are become great, ſome atcheeve greatneſſe, and ſome
have greatneſſe thraſt upon em. Thy ſates open their
hands, let thy blood and ſpirit embrace them, and to in-
ure thy ſelfe to what thou art like to be: caſt thy humbly
flough, and appeare fresh. Be oppoſite with a kinfman,
furly with ſervants: Let thy tongue tang arguments of
State; put thy ſelfe into the tricke of ſingularity. Shee
thus advifes thee, that ſighes for thee. Remember who
commended thy yellow ſtockings, and with'do fee thee
ever croſſe garter'd: I ſay remember, goe too, thou art
made if thou defirſt to be ſo: If not, let me fee thee a ſle-
ward ſtill, the ſellow of ſervants, and not worthy to
touch Fortunes ſingers Farwell. Shee that would alter
ſervices with thee, the fortunate unhappy daylight and
champian diſcover not more: This is open, I will be
proud, I will reade politicke Authors, I will baffle Sir
Toby, I will wafh off groſſe acquaintance, I will be point
devife, the very man. I doe now ſoole my ſelfe, to let
imagination jade me; for every reaſon excites to this,
that my Lady loves me. She did commend my yellow
ſtockings of late, ſhe did praife my legge being croſſe-
garter'd, and in this ſhe manifeſts her ſelfe to my love,
and with a kind of injunction drives me to theſe habits
of her liking. I thanke my ſtarres, I am happy: I will
be ſtrange, ſtout, in yellow ſtocking, and croſſe garter'd

even with the ſwiftneſſe of putting on. Jove, and my
flarres be prailed. Heere is yet a poſtcript. Theo canſt
not choose but know who I am, if then entertain ſmy love, let us
appear in thy smiling, thy smiles become thee well. There-
fore in my prefence ſi I smile, deere my ſweet, I prethee. Love
I thanke thee, I will ſmile, I will doe every thing that thou
wilt have me.

Exiſt.

Fab. I will not give my part of this ſport for a peni-
on of thonands to be paid from the Sophy.

To. I could marry this wench for this deuice.

An. So could I too.

To. And aske no ether dowry with her, but ſuch ano-
ther jeſt.

Enter Maria.

An. Nor I neither.

Fab. Heere comes my neble gull-catcher.

To. Wilt thou ſent thy foote o' my necke?

An. Or o' mine either?

To. Shall I play my fredome at tray-trip, and become
thy bondſlave?

An. Iſaith, or I either?

Tob. Why, thou haſt put him in ſuch a dreame, that
when the image of it leaves him, he muſt run mad.

Ma. Nay but ſay true, do's it worke upon him?

To. Like Aqua-vitæ with a Midwife.

Mar. If you will then fee the fruits of the ſport, marke
his firſt approach before my Lady: he will come to her
in yellow ſtockings, and tis a colour the abhorres, and
croſſe garter'd, a ſtashion the deteſts: and he will ſmile
upon her, which will now be ſo unfuteable to her diſpo-
fition, being addiſed to a melancholly, as ſhe is, that it
cannot but turne him into a notable contempt: if you will
fee it, follow me.

To. To the gates of Tartar, thou moſt excellent divell
of wit.

And. Ile make one too.

Exenunt.

Finis Actus Secundi.

Actus Tertius. Scæna Prima.

Enter Viola, and Clowne.

Vio. Save thee Friend and thy Muſſicke: doſt thou live
by the Tabor?

Clo. No firſ, I live by the Church.

Vio. Art thou a Churchman?

Clo. No ſuch matter fir, I doe live by the Church: for,
I'do live at my houſe, and my houſe doth ſtand by the
Church.

Vio. So thou maſſe ſay the King lyes by a begger, iſ
a begger dwell neer him: or the Church ſlands by thy Ta-
bor, iſ thy Tabor ſtand by the Church.

Clo. You have faid fir: To fee this age! A ſentence is
but a chev'rill glove to a good witte, how quickly the
wrong ſide may be turn'd outward.

Vio. Nay that's certaine: they that dally nicely with
words, may quickly make them wanton.

Clo. I would therefore my firſer had had no name Sir.

Vio. Why man?

Clo. Why fir, her name's a word, and to dally with
that word, might make my firſer wanton: But indeed
words are very Rafcals, ſince bonds diſgrac'd them.

Vio. Thy reaſon man?

Clo.

266 Twelfth night, or, What you will.

Nor wit, nor reafon, can my paflon hide :
Doe not extort thy reafons from this claue,
For that I wooe, thou therefore haft no caſe :
But rather reaſon thus, with reaſon fetter ;

Love fought, is good : but given unfought, is better.

Vio. By innocence I ſweare, and by my youth,
I have one heart, one boſome, and one truth,
And that no woman has, nor never none
Shall miſtris be of it, ſave I alone.
And ſo adieu good Madam, never more,
Will I my Maſters teares to you deplora.

Ol. Yet come againe: for thou perhaps mayſt move
That heart which now abhorres, to like his love.

Exeunt.

## Scena Secunda.

And. No faith, Ile not ſtay a jet longer :

Tob. Thy reaſon deere venom, give thy reaſon.

Fabia. You muſt needs yeeld your reaſon, Sir Andrew.

And. Marry I ſaw your Neece doe more favours to the Counts Serving-man, than ever ſhe beſtow'd upon me: I faw it i'th Orchard.

Tob. Did ſhe fee the while, old boy, tell me that ?

And. As plaine as I fee you now.

Fabia. This was a great argument of love in her toward you.

And. S'light; will you make an Aſſe o'me ?

Fabia. I prove it legitimate fir, upon the Oathes of judgement, and reaſon.

Tob. And they have beene grand Iury men, ſince before Njah was a Saylor.

Fabia. Shee did ſhow favour to the youth in your fight,
onely to exaſperate you, to awake your dormouſe valour
to put fire in your Heart, and brimſtone in your Liver:
you ſhould then have accofed her, and with ſome excel-
lent jefts (fire-new from the mint) you ſhould have bangd
the youth into dumbeneſe : this was look'd for at your
hand, and this was baulk't : the double gilt of this oppor-
tunity you let time waſh off, and you are now ſaid into
the North of my Ladies opinion, where you will hang
like an yſickle on a Dutchmans beard, unleſſe you doe re-
deemce it, by ſome landable attempt, either of valour or
policy.

And. And't be any way, it muſt be with Valour, for
policy I hate: I had as lief be a Browniſt, as a Politi-
cian.

Tob. Why then build me thy fortunes upon the baſis of
valour. Challenge me the Countſyouth to fight with him
hurt him in eleven places, my Neece ſhall take note of it,
and affure thy ſelfe, there is no love-Broker in the world,
can more prevaile in mans commendation with woman,
than report of valour.

Fabia. There is no way but this fir Andrew.

And. Will either of you beare me a chalenge to him ?

Tob. Go, write it in a martiall hand, be curſt and briefe:
it is no matter how witty, ſo it be eloquent, and full of
invention: taunt him with the licenſe of Inke: if thou
thouſt him ſome thrice, it shall not be amiffle, and as ma-
ny Lyes, as will lye in thy ſheete of paper, although the

ſheere were big enough for the bed of Ware in England,
fet em downe, goe about it. Let there be gall enough in
thy inke, though thou write with a Goole-pen, no mat-
ter : about it.

And. Where ſhall I find you ?

Tob. We'll call thee at the Cubiculo : Goe

Exit Sir Andrew.

Fabia. This is a deere Manakin to you Sir Toby.

Tob. I have beene deere to him lad, ſome two thouſand
ſtrong, or ſo.

Fa. We ſhall have a rare Letter from him ; but you't
not deliver't.

Tob. Never truſt me then: and by all means ſirre on
the youth to an anſwer. I thinke Oxen and waine-ropes
cannot hale them together: For Andrew, if he were open
and you find ſo much blood in his Liver, as will clog the
foot of a ſlea, Ile eate the reſt of th'anatomy.

Fabia. And his oppoſite the youth beares in his viſage no
great preſage of cruelty.

Enter Maria.

Tob. Iooke where the yongeſt Wren of mine comes.

Mar. If you defire the ſpleene, and will laugh your
ſelves into ſtitches, follow me; yond gull Malvolio is tu-
ned Heathen, a very Renegado; for there is no chriſt
that means to be fav'd by beleeving rightly, can ever
beleeve ſuch impoffible paſſages of groſſenefſe. Hec in
yellow ſtockings.

Tob. And croſſe garter'd ?

Mar. Moſt villanouſly : like a Pedant that keeps a
Schoole i'th Church: I have dogg'd him like his morthor.
He does obey every point of the Letter that I dropt,
to betray him: He does ſmile his ſace into more lyes,
then is in the new Mappe, with the augmentation of the
Indies: you have not ſeene ſuch a thing as tis: I can hard-
ly forbeare hurling things at him, I know my Lady will
ſtrike him : if ſhe doe, he'll ſmile, and take't for a great
favour.

Tob. Come bring us, bring us where he is.

Exeunt Omo.

## Scena Tertia.

Enter Shaſtian and Antonio.

Seb. I would not by my will have troubled you,
But ſince you make your pleafure of your payneſ,
I will no further chide you.

Ant. I could not ſtay behind you : my deſire
(More ſharpe than filed ſtele) did ſpurre me forth,
And not all love to ſee you (though ſo much
As might have drawne one to a longer voyage)
But jeaſlouſe, what might befall your travel,
Being skilleſſe in theſe parts: which to a ſtranger,
Vnguided, and unfriended, often prove
Rough, and unhofpitable. My willing love,
The rather by theſe arguments of ſoffare
Set forth in your purſuite.

Seb. My kind Anthonio,
I can no other anſwer make, but thankeſ,

But were my worth, as is my confiience firme,

You

Twelfe Night, or, what you will.

267

You should find better dealing : what's to doe ?
Shall we goe fee the reliques of this Towne?

Ant. To morrow fir, beft firft goe your Lodging.
Seb. I am not weary, and 'tis long to night,
I pray you let us satisfie our eyes
With the memorials, and the things of fame
That doe renowne this City.

Ant. Would you'd pardon me :
I doe not without danger walke thefe flectres.
Once in a fea-fight 'gainft the Count his gallies,
I did fome ſervice, of fuch note indeed,
That were I tane here, it would ſcarſe anſwer'd.

Seb. Belike you flew great number of his people.

Ant. Th' offence is not of fuch a bloody nature,

Albeit the quality of the time, and quarrell

Might well have given us bloody argument :

It might have ſince beene anſwer'd in repaying

What we tooke from them, which for Tratiques ſake
Moft of our City did. Onely my ſelfe Roud out,

For which if I be lapſed in this place

I ſhall pay deere.

Seb. Doe not then walke too open.

Ant. It doth not ſit me : hold fir, here's my purſe.

In the South Suburbs at the Elephant

Is beſt to lodge: I will beſpeak our dyer,

Whiles you beguile the time, and feed your knowledge
With viewing of the Towne, there ſhall you have me.

Seb. Why I your purſe ?

Ant. Haply your eye ſhall light upon ſome toy

You have deſire to purchafe : and your ſlore
I thinke is not for idle Markets, fir.

Seb. Ile be your purſe-bearer, and leave you

For an houre,

Ant. To th'Elephant,

Seb. I doe remember.

Exeunt.

## Scena Quarta.

### Enter Olivia, and Maria.

Ol. I have ſent after him, he ſayes he'll come :
How ſhall I feaſt him ? What beſtow of him ?

For youth is bought more oft, then begg'd, or borrow'd.
I ſpeake too loud : Where's Malvolio, he is ſad, and civill,
And ſuites well for a ſervant with my fortunnes,
Where is Malvolio ?

Mar. He's comming Madam :

But in very ſtrange manner. He is ſure poffeſt Madam.

Ol. Why what's the matter, does he rave ?

Mar. No Madam, he does nothing but ſmile: your La-
dyſhip were beſt to have ſome guard about you, if he
come, for ſure the man is tainted in's wits.

Ol. Goe call him hither.

### Enter Malvolio.

I am as mad as he,

If I ad and merdy madneſſe equall be.

Ol. How now Malvolio?

Mal. Sweet Lady, ha, ha.

Ol. Smil't thou ? I ſent for thee upon a ſad occaſion.

Mal. Sad Lady, I could be ſad :

This does make ſome obſtruction in the blood :

This croſſe-gartering, but what of that ?

If it pleafe the eye of one, it is with me as the very true
Sonnet it : Pleafe one, and pleafe all.

Ol. Why how doeſt man ?
What is the matter with thee ?

Mal. Not blacke in my mind, though yellow in my
legges: It did come to his hands, and Commands ſhall
be executed. I thinke we doe know the ſweet Romane
hand.

Ol. Wilt thou goe to bed Malvolio?

Mal. To bed ? I ſweet heart, and Ile come to thee.

Ol. God comfort thee: Why doſt thou ſmile ſo, and
kiffſe thy hand ſo oft ?

Mar. How doe you Malvolio.

Mal. At your requeſt :

Yes Nightingales anſwer Dawes.

Mar. Why appeare you with this ridiculous boldneſſe
before my Lady?

Mal. Be not afraid of greatneſſe : 'twas well writ.

Ol. What meaneſt thou by that Malvolio?

Mal. Some are borne great.

Ol. Ha?

Mal. Some atcheeve greatneſſe.

Ol. What ſayſt thou ?

Mal. And ſome have greatneſſe thrust upon them.

Ol. Heaven reſtore thee.

Mal. Remember who commended thy yellow ſtock-
ings.

Ol. Thy yellow ſtockings?

Mal. And wifh'd to fee thee croſſe garter'd.

Ol. Croſſe garter'd?

Mal. Goe too, thou art made, if thou defi't to be ſo?

Ol. Am I made ?

Mal. If not, let me fee thee a ſervant full.

Ol. Why this is very Midſommer madneſſe,

### Enter Servant.

Ser. Madam, the yong Gentleman of the Count Orſi-
no's is return'd, I could hardly entreate him backe : he at-
tends your Ladyſhips pleafure.

Ol. Ile come to him.

Good Maria, let this fellow be look'd too. Where's my
Coſin Toby, let ſome of my people have a ſpeciall care of
him, I would not have him miſcarry for the halſe of my
Dowry.

Exit.

Mal. Oh, ho, doe you come neere me now: no worſe
man then fir Toby to looke to me. This concurreſs direc-
ly with the Letter, ſhe ſends him on purpofe, that I may
appeare ſubſborneto him : for ſhe incites me to that in
the Letter. Cauſt thy humble ſlough ſayes ſhe : be oppo-
ſite with a Kinſman, ſurly with ſervants, let thy tongue
tang with arguments of ſtate, put thy ſelſe into the tricke
of ſingularity : and conſequently fetts downe the manner
how : as a ſad face, a reverend carriage, a ſlow tongue,in
the habite of ſome Sir of note, and ſo forth. I have lymde
her, but it is ſoves doing, and ſove make me thankefull.
And when ſhe went away now, let this Fellow be look'd
to: Fellow ? not Malvolio, nor after my degree, but
Fellow. Why every thing adheres together, that no
dramme of a ſeruple, no ſeruple of a ſeruple, no obſtacle,
no incredulous or unsafe circumſtance : What can be faid?
Nothing that can be, can come betweene me, and the full
prefpect of my hopes. Well ſove, not I, is the doer of
this, and he is to be thanked.

### Enter Toby, Fabian, and Maria.

Z 2

To

268

To. Which way is he in the name of sanctity? If all the divels of hell be drawne in little, and Legion himselfe possèd him, yet he speake to him.

Fab. Heere he is, heere he is: how it with you fir ?
How it with you man ?

Mal. Goe off, I dicard you : let me enjoy my private:
goe off.

Mar. Lo, how hollow the fiend speakes within him ;
did not I tell you ? Sir *Toby*, my Lady prays you to have
a care of him.

Mal. Ah ha, does he so ?

To. Goe to, goe to : peace, peace, we must deale gently with him : Let me alone. How doe you Mal'volio ? How it with you ? What man, defie the divell : confider, he's an enemy to mankind.

Mal. Doe you know what you fay ?

Mar. La you, and you fpeake ill of the divell, how he takes it at heart. Pray God he be not bewitch'd.

Fab. Carry his water to th'wife woman.

Mar. Marry and it shall be done to morrow morning if I live. My Lady would not looke him for more then ile fay.

Mal. How now miftris?

Mar. Oh Lord.

To. Prethee hold thy peace, this is not the way : Doe you not fee you move him ? Let me alone with him.

Fa. No way but gentlenefle, gently : the Fiend is rough, and will not be roughly us'd.

To. Why how now my bawcocke ? how doft thou
Mal. Sir. (chucke)?

To. I biddy, come with me. What man, tis not for gravity to play at cherry-pit with fathan. Hang him foule Collier.

Mar. Get him to fay his prayers, good fir *Toby* get him to pray.

Mal. My prayers Minx.

Mar. No I warrant you, he will not heare of godlyneſſe.

Mal. Goe hang your felves all : you are idle ſhallow things, I am not of your element, you ſhall know more hereafter. Exit.

To. Ift poffible ?

Fab. If this were plaid upon a ſlage now, I could demne it as an improbable ſiction.

To. His very genius hath taken the infection of the device man.

Mar. Nay purſue him now, leaſt the device take ayre, and taint.

Fa. Why we ſhall make him mad indeed.

Mar. The houſe well be the quieter.

To. Come, we'll have him in a darke roome and bound. My Neece is already in the beleife that he's mad : we may carry it thus for our pleasure, and his pennance, till our ve-ry paſtimetyre'd out of breath, prompt us to have mercy on him: at which time, we wil bring the device to the bar and crowne thee for a finder of madmen : but fee, but fee.

Enter Sir Andrew.

Fa. More matter for a May morning.

And. Heere's the Challenge, reade it: I warrant there's vinegar and pepper in't.

Fab. Iſt ſo faway ?

And. I, iſt ? I warrant him: doe but reade.

To. Give me.

Yonth, what ſeev er thou art, thou art but a ſourvy ſellow.

Fa. Good and valiant.

To. Wonder not, nor admire not in thy mind why I doe call

thee ſo, for I will ſhow thee no reaſon for't.

(Law)
Fa. A good note, that keepes you from the blow of the
To. Thou comſt to the Lady Olivia, and in my fight ſee the
thee kindly : but thou ſeſt in thy throat, that is not the matter
I challenge thee for.

Fa. Very breeſe, and to exceeding good fence-ſelſe,
To. I will way-lay thee going home, where if he thy chance
to kill me.

Fa. Good.

To. Thou kill me like a rogue and a villaine.

Fa. Still you keepe o'th windie ſide of the Law: good.
To. Fartheewell, and God have mercie upon one of our ſoules.
He may have mercie upon mine, but my hope is better, and so
looke to thy ſelfe. Thy friend as thou vſeſt him, and thy ſpurne
enemy, Andrew Ague-cheeke.

To. If this Letter move him not, his legges cannot:
Ile giv't him.

Mar. You may have verie fit occafion for't: hee is
now in ſome commerce with my Lady, and will by and
by depart.

To. Go fir Andrew: ſcout mee for him at the corner of the Orchard like a bum-Baily : ſo ſone as ever thou ſeelt him, draw, and as thou draw'ſt ſwere horribly: for it comes to paffe oft, that a terrible oath, with a ſwagg'ing accent ſharply twang'd off, gives manhood more approbation, then ever proofe it ſelfe would have carried him. Away.

And. Nay let me alone for ſwearing.

Exii.

To. Now will not I deliuer his Letter: for the behav-
our of the yong Gentleman, gives him out to be of good
capacity, and breeding : his employment betweene his
Lord and my Neeice, confirms no leſſe. Therefore, this
Letter being ſo excellently ignorant, will breed no terror
in the youth: he will finde it comes from a Clodde-pole.
But fir, I will deliver his Challenge by word of mouth,
fet upon Ague-cheekes a notable report of valor; and drive
the Gentleman(as I know his youth will aptly receive it)
into a moſt hideous opinion of his rage, skill, ſturie, and
impetuofity. This will ſo fright them both, that they will
kill one another by the looke, like Cockatrices.

Enter Olivia and Viola.

F. Heere he comes with your Neeice, give them way til he take leave, and prefently after him.

To. I will meditate the while upon ſome horrid mettige for a Challenge.

Exeunt.

Ol. I have faid too much unto a heart of ſtone,
And laid mine honour too vnchary on't:
There's something in me that reproves my fault:
But fuch a head-ſtrong potent fault it is:
That it but mockes reproofe.

Vio. With the fame haviour that your paſſion beares,
Goes on my Maifters greeſes.

Ol. Heere, weare this Jewell for me, tis my picture:
Refuse it not, it hath no tongue, to vex you:
And I beſeech you come againe to morrow.
What ſhall you aske of me that I deny,
That honour (fav'd) may upon asking give.

Vio. Nothing but this, your true love for my maſtter.
Ol. How with mine honou'ry I give him that,
Which I have given to you ?

Vio. I will acquit you.

Ol. Well, come againe to morrow: ſare thee-well,
A Fiend like thee might beare my foule to hell. Exit.

Enter Toby and Fabian.

To. Gentleman, God fav'e thee.

Yio.

The Twelfth Night, or, what you will.

269

Vio. And you fir.

To. That defence thou haſt, betake thee too't: of what nature the wrongs are thou haſt done him; I know not: but thy interceptor full of despight, bloody as the Hunter, attends thee at the Orchard end: difmount thy tucke, be yare in thy preparation, for thy affaylant is quicke, skillfull, and deadly.

Vio. You miſtake fir I am ſure, no man hath any quarrell to me : my remembrance is very free and cleere from any image of offence done to any man.

To. You'll find it other wife I affure you : therefore, if you hold your life at any price, betake you to your gard : for your oppoſite hath in him what youth, ſtrength, skill, and wrath, can furniſh man withall.

Vio. I pray you fir what is he?

To. He is knight dubb'd with unhatch'd Rapier, and on carpet confideration, but he is a divell in private brall, foules and bodies hath he divorc'd three, and his incenſent at this moment is ſo implacable, that ſatistaction can be none, but by pangs of death and ſepulcher : Hob, nob, is his word : giv't or take't.

To. I will returne againe into the houſe, and deſire fome conduct of the Lady. I am no fighter, I have heard of ſome kind of men, that put quarrells purpofely on others, to raſe their valour : belike this is a man of that quirke.

To. Sir, no: his insignigtion derives it ſelfe out of a veu'd compent injury, therefore get you on, and give him his deſire. Backe you ſhall not to the houſe, unleſſe you undertake that with me, which with as much ſafetät you might anſwer him ? therefore on, or ſtrippe your ſword ſtarke naked : for meddle you muſt that's certaine, or forſwere to weare iron about you.

Vio. This is as uncivill as ſtrange. I beſeech you doe me this courteous office, as to know of the Knight what my ſencerto him is: it is ſomething of my negligence, nothing of my purpofe.

To. I will doe ſo. Signiour Fabian, ſtay you by this Gentleman, till my returne.

Exit Toby.

Vio. Pray you fir, doe you know of this matter?

Fab. I know the knight is incenſt againſt you, even to amortall arbitrement, but nothing of the circumstance more.

Vio. I beſeech you what manner of man is he ?

Fab. Nothing of what wonderfull promife to read him by his ſorme, as you are like to find him in the proofe of his valour. He is indeed fir, the moſt skillfull, bloudy, and fatall oppoſite that you could poſſibly have found in any part of Ilyria: will you walke towards him, I will make your peace with him, if I can.

Vio. I ſhall be much bound to you for't: I am one, that had rather goe with fir Prieſt, then fir knight: I care not who knowes ſo much of my mettle.

Exeunt.

Enter Toby, and Andrew.

Tob. Why man he's a very divell, I have not ſeene ſuch a ſirago : I had a paſſe with him, rapier, scabber'd, and all: and he gives me the ſucke in with ſuch a mortall motion that it is ineuitable : and on the anſwer, he payes your as ſurely, as your ſeete hits the ground they ſtep on. They ſay, he has beene Fencer to the Sophy.

And. Pox on't, I le not meddle with him.

To. I but he will not now be pacified, Fabian can ſcarfe hold him yonder.

Au. Plague on't, and I thought he had beene valiant, and ſo cunning in Fence, I'de have ſeene him damn'd ere I'de have challeng'd him. Let him let the matter ſlip, and

Ile give him my horſe, gray Capilet.

Tob. Ile make the motion : ſtand heere, make a good ſhew on't, this ſhall end without the perdition of ſoules, marry Ile ride your horſe as well as I ride you.

Enter Fabian, and Viola.

I have his horſe to take up the quarrell, I have perſwaded him the youths a divell.

Fab. He is as horribly conceited of him: and pants, and lookes pale, as if a Beare were at his heeles.

To. There's no remedy fir, he will tight with you for's oath fake : marry he hath better bethought him of his quarrell, and he finds that now ſcarſe to be worth talking of : therefore draw for the ſupport of his vow, he proteſts he will not hurt you.

Vio. Pray God defend mee: a little thing would make me tell them how much I lacke of a man.

Fab. Give ground if you fee him ſurious.

To. Come fir Andrew, there's no remedy, the Gentleman will for his honors ſake have one bout with you: he cannot by the Duello avoid it: but he has promiſed me, as he is a Gentleman and a Soldiour, he will not hurt you. Come on, too't.

And. Pray God he keepe his oath.

Enter Antonio.

Vio. I doe affure you tis againſt my will.

Ant. Put up your ſword : if this young Gentleman have done offence, I take the fault on me : If you offend him, I for him deſie you.

Tob. You fir ? Why, what are you ?

Ant. One fir, that for his loved ares yet ſoe more
Then you have heard him brag to you he will.

Tob. Nay, if you be an undertaker, I am for you.

Enter Officers.

Fab. O good fir Toby hold : heere come the Officers.

Tob. Ile be with you anon.

Vio. Pray fir, put your ſword up if you pleafe.

And. Marry will I fir : and for that I promis'd you Ile be as good as my word. He will beare you easily, and raines well.

1. Off. This is the man, doe thy Office.

2. Off. Anthonio, I arreft thee at the ſuit of Count Orſino.

Ant. You doe miſtake me fir.

1. Off. No fir, no jot: I know your favour well: Though now you haye no ſea-cap on your head : Take him away, he knowes I know him well.

Ant. I muſt obey. This comes with seeking you: But there's no remedy, I haſt anſwer it :

What will you doe ? now my necessity
Makes me to aske you for my purſe. It greeves me
Much more, for what I cannot doe for you,
Then what beſals my ſelfe : you ſtand amaz'd,
But be of comfort.

2. Off. Come fir away.

Ant. I muſt entreat of you ſome of that money.

Vio. What money fir ?

For the faire kindneſſe you have ſhew'd me here,
And part being prompted by your prefent trouble,
Out of my leane and low ability

Ile lend you ſomething : my having is not much,
I make divifion of my prefent with you :
Hold, there's halte my Coffer.

Ant. Will you deny me now,
Iſ poſſible that my deſerts to you :
Can lacke perſwafion? Doe not tempt my miſery,
Leaſt that it make me ſo unfound a man
As to upbraid you with thofe kindneſſes

Z 3

That

Twelfe Night, or What you will.

270

That I have done for you.

*Vio.* I know of none.

Nor know I you by voyce, or any feature :

I hate ingratitude more in a man,

Then lying, vainneſſe, babling drunkenneſſe,

Or any taint of vice, wholeſt corruption

Inhabites our fraile blood.

*Ant.* Oh heavens themſelves !

2. *Off.* Come fir, I pray you goe.

*Ant.* Let me fpeake a little. This youth that you fee
I ſnatch'd one halſe out of the jawes of death, (here,
Reelev'd him with ſuch ſanctity of love ;

And to his image, which me thought did promife

Moft venerable worth, did I devotion.

1. *Off.* What's that to us, the time goes by : Away!

*Ant.* But oh, how vilde an idoll proves this god :

Thou haſt *Sebſtian* done good feature, ſhame,

In Nature, there's no blemiſh but the mind :

None can be call'd deform'd, but the unkind.

Vertue is beauty, but the beateous evill

Are empty trunkes, ore-flouriſh'd by the devil.

1. *Off.* The man growes mad, away with him ;

Come, come fir.

*Ant.* Lead me on.

Exit.

*Vio.* Me thinkes his words doe from ſuch paffion flye
That he beleeves himſelfe, ſo does not I :

Prove a true imagination, oh prove true,

That I deere brother, be now tane for you.

*To.* Come hither Knight, come hither Fabian : Well
whisper ore a couplet or two of moſt ſage faues.

*Vio.* He nam'd *Sebſtian* : I my brother know

Yet living in my glaſſe : even ſuch, and ſo

In favour was my Brother, and he went

Still in this ſaſhion, colour, ornament,

For him I imitate : Oh if it prove,

Tempeſts are kind, and ſalt waves fresh in love. Exit.

*Tob.* A very diſhonest paltry boy, and more a coward
than a Hare, his diſhonesty appears, in leaving his friend
here in neceſſity, and denying him : and for his coward-
ship aske Fabians.

*Fab.* A Coward, a moſt devout Coward, religious in
it.

*And.* Slid He after him againe, and beate him.

*To.* Doe, cuffe him foundly, but never draw thy ſword

*And.* And I do not.

*Fab.* Come, let's see the event.

*Tob.* I dare lay any mony, twill be nothing yet. Exit.

## Actus Quartus, Scæna Prima.

*Enter Sebſtian, and Clowne.*

*Clo.* Will you make me beleeve, that I am not ſent for
you?

*Seb.* Goe to, goe to, thou art a ſooliſh fellow,

Let me be cleere of thee.

*Clo.* Well held out yfaith : No, I doe not know you,
nor I am not ſent to you by my Lady, to bid you come
ſpeake with her : nor your name is not *Matter Cefario*,
nor this is not my noſe neither : Nothing that is ſo, is ſo.

*Seb.* I prethee vent thy folly ſome-where elfe, thou
know'ſt not me.

*Clow.* Vent my folly: He has heard that word of ſome
great man, and now applies it to a foole. Vent my fol-

ly: I am afraid this great lubber the World will prove a
Cockney: I prethee now ungird thy ſtrangenes, and tell
me what I ſhall vent to my Lady? Shall I vent to her that
that art comming?

*Seb.* I prethee ſooliſh greeke depart from me, there's
money for thee, if you tarry longer, I ſhall give worſe
paiment.

*Clo.* By my troth thou haſt an open hand : theſe Wile-
men that give ſooles money, get themſelves a good re-
port, after fourteene yeares puchafe.

*Enter Andrew, Toby, and Fabian.*

*And.* Now fir, have I met you againe: there's for you.

*Seb.* Why there's for thee, and there, and there,
Are all the people mad ?

*To.* Hold fir, or Ile throw your dagger ore the houſe.

*Clo.* This will I tell my Lady ſtraight, I would not be
in ſome of your coats for two pence.

*To.* Come on fir, hold.

*And.* Nay let him alone, Ile goe another way to worke
with him : Ile have an action of Battery againſt him, if
there he any law in Ilyria : though I ſtroke him firſt, yet
it's no matter for that.

*Seb.* Let goe thy hand.

*Tob.* Come fir, I will not let you go. Come my yong
ſouldier put up your yron : you are well fleſh'd : Come
on.

*Seb.* I will be free from thee. What would it thou now?
If thou dar'ſt tempt me further, draw thy ſword.

*To.* What, what ? Nay then I muſt have an Ounce or
two of this malapert blood from you.

*Enter Olivia.*

*Ol.* Hold *Toby*, on thy life I charge thee hold.

*Tob.* Madam.

*Ol.* Will it be ever thus ? Vngracious wretch,
Fit for the Mountaines, and the barbarous Caves,
Where manners ne're were preach'd : out of my fight.
Be not offendeſd, deere Cefario :

Rudesbey be gone. I prethee gentle friend,

Let thy faire wifedome, not thy paffion ſway

In this uncivill, and unjuſt extent

Againſt thy peace. Goe with me to my houſe,

And heare thou there how many fruitiſſe prankes

This Ruffian hath botch'd up, that thou thereby

Maſſ: ſmile at this : Thou ſhalt not chooſe but goe :

Doe not deny, beſhrew his ſoule for me,

He ſtarted one poore heart of mine, in thee.

*Seb.* What relliſh is in this? How runs the ſtreame?

Or I am mad, or elfe this is a dreame :

Let fancy ſtill my ſenſe in Lethe ſteepe,

If it be thusto dreame, ſtill let me ſleepe.

*Ol.* Nay come I prethee, would thound'ft be rul'd by me.

*Seb.* Madam, I will.

*Ol.* O ſay ſo, and ſo be.

Exenunt.

## Scæna Secunda.

*Enter Maria, and Clowne.*

*Mar.* Nay, I prethee put on this gowne, and this beard,
make him beleeve thou art fir *Topas* the Curate, doe it
quickly. Ile call fir *Toby* the whilſt.

*Clo.* Well, Ile put it on, and I will't diſſemble my ſelfe
in't, and I would I were the firſt that ever diſſembled in
fuch

271

fuch a Gowne. I am not tall enough to become the function well, nor leane enough to be thought a good Student: but to be faid an honest man, and a good Houfekeeper goes as fairely, as to fay, a careful man, and a great Scholler. The Competitors enter.

Enter Tobie.

To. Iove bleſſe thee M.Parfon.

Clo. Bonos dies fir Tobie: for as the old Hermit of Prage, that never saw Pen and Inke, very wittily faid to a Neece of King Gorbodacke, that that is, is: lo I being M. Parfon, am M. Parfon; for what is that, but that? and is, but is?

To. To him fir Topas.

Clow. What hoa, I fay, Peace in this prifon.

To. The Knave counterfeits well : a good Knave.

Malvolio within.

Mal. Who cals there ?

Clo. Sir Topas the Curate, who comes to viſite Malvolio the Lunaticke.

Mal. Sir Topas, fir Topas, good fir Topas goe to my Ladie.

Clo. Out hyperbolicall fiend, how vexeſt thou this man? Talkeſt thou nothing but of Ladies?

Tab. Well faid M. Parfon.

Mal. Sir Topas, never was man thus wronged, good fir Topas doe not thunke I am mad : they have layde mee here in hideous darkneſſe.

Clo. Fye, thou diſhoneſt Sathan : I call thee by the moſt modell termes, for I am one of thate gentle ones, that will uſe the Divell himſelfe with curteſe : ſayſt thou that houſe is darke?

Mal. As helſt fir Topas.

Clo. Why it hath bay Windows tranſparant as Baricadees, and the cleare itones toward the South North, are as luftrous as Ebony : and yet complainſt thou of obtrusion?

Mal. I am not mad fir Topas, I ſay to you this houſe is darke.

Clo. Madman thou erreſt : I ſay there is no darkneſſ but ignorance, in which thou art more puzel'd then the Egyptians in their fogge.

Mal. I ſay this houſe is as darke as ignorance, though Ignorance were as darke as hell; and I ſay there was never man thus abus'd, I am no more madde than you are, make the triall of it in any conſant quæſtion.

Clo. What is the opinion of Pythagoras, concerning Wilde-fowle?

Mal. That the foule of our Grandam, might happenably inhaſte a Bird.

Clo. What think ſt thou of his opinion?

Mal. I thinke nobly of the ſoule, and no way approve his opinion.

Clo. Fare thee well : remaine thou ſill in darkeneſſe, thou ſhalt hold th'opinion of Pythagoras,ere I will allow of thy wits, and ſcare to kill a Woodcocke, left thou diſpoſeſſe the houſe of thy Grandam. Fare thee well.

Mal. Sir Topas, fir Topas.

To. My moſt exquifeſt fir Topas.

Clo. Nay, I am for all waters.

Mar. Thou mightt have done this without thy beard and gowne, he ſees thee not.

Tab. To him in thine owne voyce, and bring me word, how thou findſt him: I would wee were all rid of this knavery. If hee may be conveniently deliver'd, I would he were, for I am now ſo farre in offence with my Neece, that I cannot purſue with any safety this ſport the upſhot. Come by and by to my Champer. Exit.

Clo. Hey Robin, jolly Robin, tell me how thy Lady does.

Mal. Foole.

Clo. My Lady is unkinde, perdie.

Mal. Foole.

Clo. Alas why is the ſo.

Mal. Foole, I ſay.

Clo. She loves another. Who calls, ha?

Mal. Good Foole, as ever thou wilt deferve well at my hand, helpe me to a Candle, and Pen, Inke, and Paper : as I am a Gentleman, I will live to bee thankefull to thee for't.

Clo. M. Malvolio?

Mal. I good Foole.

Clo. Alas fir, how fell you befides your five wits?

Mal. Foole, there was never man ſo notoriously a buſ'd: I am as well in my wits (foole) as thou art.

Clo. But as well : then you are mad indeed, if you bee no better in your wits then a foole.

Mal. They have here propertied me : keepe mee in darkeneſſe, ſend Minifers to mee, Aſſes, and doe all they can to face me out of my wits.

Clo. Advife you what you ſay : the Minifter is here.

Malvolio, Malvolio, thy wits the heavens reſtore : endeavour thy ſelfe to fleepe, and leave thy vaine bibble babble.

Mal. Sir Topas.

Clo. Maintaine no words with him good fellow.

Who I ſir, not I ſir. God buy you good fir Topas : Marry Amen. I will ſir, I will ſir.

Mal. Foole, foole, foole I ſay.

Clo. Alas fir be patient. What ſay you fir, I am ſhent for speaking to you.

Mal. Good foole helpe me to ſome light, and ſome Paper, I tell thee I am as well in my wits, as any man in Illyria,

Clo: Well-a-day, that you were fir.

Mal. By this hand I am : good foole, ſome Inke, Paper, and Light : and convey what I will ſet downe to my Lady : it ſhall advantage thee more, then ever the bearing of Letter did.

Clo. I will helpe you too't. But tell me true, are you not mad indeed, or doe you but counterſeit?

Mal. Beleeve me, I am not, I ſell thee true.

Clo. Nay, Ile ne're beleeve a madman till I ſee his
I will fetch you light, and paper, and inke. (braines,

Mal. Foole, Ile requite it in the highest degree :

I prethee be gone.

Clo. I am gone fir, and anon fir,

Ile be with you againe :

In a trice, like to the old vice,
your neede to ſuſtaine.

Who with Dagger of Lath, in his rage and his wrath,
cryes ah ha, to the Divell :

Like a mad lad, paire thy nayles Dad,

Adieu good man Divell.

Exits.

## Scena Tertia.

Enter Sebaſtian.

Seb. This is the ayre, that is the glorious Sunne,
This Pearle ſhe gave me, I doe ſee it, and ſee't,
And though 'tis wonder that enwraps me thus,

Yet

The Twelfe Night, or, what you will.

Yet 'tis not madneſſe. Where's Anthony then ?
I could not finde him at the Elephant,
Yet there he was, and there I found this credite,
That he did range the Towne to feeke me out,
His counſell now might doe me golden ſervice,
For though my ſoule diſputes well with my ſenſe,
That this may be ſome error, but no madneſſe,
Yet doth this accident and flood of Fortune,
So farre exceed all inſtance, all diſcourſe;
That I am ready to diſtruſt mine eyes,
And wrangle with my reaſon that perſwades me
To any other truſt, but that I am mad,
Or else the Ladies mad ; yet if 'twere ſo,
She could not ſway her houſe, command her followers,
Take, and give backe affaires, and their diſpatch,
With ſuch a ſmooth, diſcreet, and ſtiable-bearing
As I perceive ſhe do's : there's ſomething in't
That is deceiveable. But here the Lady comes.

Enter Olivia, and Pricett.

Ol. Blame not this haſte of mine : if you meane well
Now goe with me, and with this holy man
Into the Chantry by : there before him,
And underneath that conſcrated roofe,
Plight me the full affurance of your faith,
That my moſt jealous, and too doubtfull ſoule
May live at Peace. He ſhall conceale it,
W hiles you are willing it ſhall come to note,
What time we will our celebration keepe
According to my birth, what doe you ſay ?

Seb. Ile follow this good man, and goe with you;
And having ſworne truth, ever will be true.

Ol. Then lead the way good father, and heavens ſo ſhine,
That they may fairely note this act of mine.

Exeunt.

Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.

Enter Clowne and Fabian.

Fab. Now as thou lov'ſt me, let me fee this Letter.

Clow. Good M. Fabian grant me another requeſt.

Fab. Any thing.

Clow. Doe not defire to fee this Letter.

Fab. This is to give a Dog, and in recompence defire
my dogge againe.

Enter Duke, Viola, Curio, and Lords.

Duke. Belong you to the Lady Olivia, friends?

Clow. I fir; we are ſome of her trappings.

Duke. I know thee well: how doeſt thou my good
Fellow ?

Clo. Truely fir, the better for my foes, and the worſe
for my friends.

Du. Iuſt the contrary : the better for thy friends.

Clo. No fir, the worſe.

Du. How can that be ?

Clo. Marry fir, they praife me, and make an Aſſe of me,
now my foes tell me plainly, I am an Aſſe : ſo that by my
foes fir, I profit in the knowledge of my ſelfe, and by my
friends I am abuſed : ſo that conclusions to be as kiffes, if
your ſoure negatives make your two aſſirmatives, why
then the worſe for my friends, and the better for my foes.

Du. Why this is excellent:

Clo. By my troth fir, no : though it pleaſe you to be
one of my friends.

Du. Thou ſhalt not be the worſe for me, there's gold.

Clo. But that it would be double dealing fir, I would you
could make it another.

Du. O you give me ill counſell.

Clo. Put your Grace in your pocket fir, for this once,
and let your fleth and blood obey it.

Du. Well, I will be ſo much a ſianer to be a double
dealer : there's another.

Clo. Primo, ſecundo, tercio, is a good Play, and the olde
faying is, the third Payes for all : the triplex fir, is a good
tripping meaſure, or the bels of S. Brancus fir, may put you
in minde, one, two, three.

Du. You can ſoole no more money out of me at this
throw : if you will let your Lady know I am here to
ſpeake with her, and bring her along with you, it may a-
wake my bounty further.

Clo. Marry fir, Jallaby to your bounty till I come agen.
I goe fir, but I would not have you to thinke, that my de-
fire of having is the ſinne of covetousneſſe : but as you ſay
fir, let your bounty take a nap, I will awake it anon. Exil.

Enter Anthony and Officers.

Vio. Here they comes the man fir, that did reſcue me.

Du. That face of his I doe remember well,
Yet when I law it laſt, it was befearnd
As blacke as Vulcan, in the ſmoak of Warre:
A bawbling Veffell was he Captain of,
For ſhallow draught and Bulke unprizable,
With which ſuch ſcathfull grapple did he make,
With the moſt noble bottome of our Fleet,
That very envy, and the tongue of loffe
Cride' fame and honour on him : What's the matter ?

I Offi. Orſino, this is that Anthony
That tooke the P[ha]enix, and her fraught from Candy,
And this is he that did the Tiger boord,
When your yong Nephew Titus loft his legge ;
Heere in the freets,deſperate of flame and ſtate,
In private brabble did we apprehend him.

Vio. He did me kindneſſe fir, drew on my ſide,
But in conclusion put ſtrange ſpeech upon me,
I know not what't was, but diſtraCTION.

Du. Notable Pyrate, thou ſalt water Theeſe,
What foolish boldneſſe brought thee to their mercies,
Whom thou in termes ſo bloudy, and ſo deere
Haſt made thine enemies ?

Ant. Orſino : Noble fir,
Be pleas'd that I ſhake off theſe names you give mee :
Anthony never yet was Theeſe, or Pyrate,
Though I conſeſſe, on bafe and ground enough
Orſino's enemie. A witchcraft drew me hither :
That moſt ingratefull Boy there by your ſide,
From the rude feas enrag'd and foamy mouth
Did I redeem: a wracke paſt hope he was :
His life I gave him, and did thereto adde
My love without retention, or reſtraint,
All this in dedication. For his ſake,
Did I expone my ſelfe (pure for his love)
Into the danger of this adverſe Towne,
Drew to defend him, when he was beſet :
Where being apprehended, his ſalſe cunning
(Not meaning to partake with me in danger)
Taught him to face me out of his acquaintances.

And

273

And grew a twenty yeeres removed thing,
While one would winke: denide me mine owne purfe,
Which I had recommended to his ufe,
Not half an houre before.

Vio. How can this be?

Du. When came he to this Towne ?

Ant. To day my Lord : and for three monthe before,
No interim, not a minutes vacancie,

Both day and night did we keepe company.

Enter Olivia and attendants.

Du. Heere comes the Counteſſe, now heaven walkes
on earth:

But for thee fellow; fellow thy words are madneſſe,
Three monthe this youth hath tended upon me,
But more of that anon. Take him afide.

Ol. What would my Lord, but that he may not have,
Wherein Olivia may feeme ſervicceable ?

Cefario, you doe not keepe promise with me.

Yio. Madam.

Du. Gracious Olivia.

Ol. What doe you ſay Cefario? Good my Lord.

Yio. My Lord would ſpeake, my dutie hufhes me.

Ol. If it be ought to the old tune my Lord,

It is as fat and fulſome to mine care

Ahowling after Muficke,

Du. Still to cruell?

Ol. Still fo conſtant Lord.

Du. What to perverſeneſſe ? you uncivil Lady

To whole ingrate, and unaufpicious Altars
My foule the faithfull ſt offerings have breath'd out

Thatere devotion tender'd. What ſhall I doe ? (him.

Ol. Even what it pleaſe my Lord, that ſhall become

Du. Why should I not, (had I the heart to doe it)

Like to the ſEgyptian Theeſe, at point of death

Kill what I love: (a favage jealousy,

That ſometime favours nobly) but heare me this :
Since you to non-regardance caſt my faith,

And that I partly know the inſtrument

That ſcreves me from my true place in your favour :

Live you the Marble-breſtied Tyrant ſtill.

But this your Minion, whom I know you love,

And whom, by heaven I ſweare, I tender decreely,

Him with I teare out of that cruell eye,

Where he fits crowned in his Maſters ſpight.

Come Boy with me, my thoughts are ripe in miſchieſe :

Ile fac्itice the Lamb that I doe love,

To ſpight a Ravens heart within a Dove.

Vio. And I moſt jocond, apt, and willingly,

To doe you reſſ a thouſand deathes would die.

Ol. Where goes Cefario ?

Vio. After him. I love,

More then I love theſe eyes, more then my life,

More by all mores, then ere I ſhall love wife.

If I do ſeigne, you witneſſes above

Punifh my life, for tainting of my Love.

Ol. Aye me detefted, how am I beguil'd?

Vir. Who does beguile you? who does do you wrong?

Ol. Haſt thou forgot thy ſelfe ? Is it ſo long ?

Call forth the holy Father.

Du. Come, away.

Ol. Whither my Lord ? Cefario, Husband, ſtay.

Du. Husband?

Ol. I Husband. Can he that deny ?

Du. Her husband, tirrah ?

Vio. No my Lord, not I.

Ol. Alas, it is the bafeſſe of thy ſeare,

That makes thee ſtrangle thy propriety :

Feare not Cefario, take thy fortunes up,

Be that thou know'st, ſt thou art, and then thou art

As great as that thou fear'st.

Enter Prieff.

O welcome Father :

Father, I charge thee by thy reverence

Here to unfold, though lately we intended

To keepe in darkeneſſe, what occafion now.

Revcales before 'tis ripe: what thou doſe't know

Hath newly paſt, betweene this youth, and me.

Prieff. A Contract of eternal bond of love,

Confirm'd by mutuall joynder of your hands,

Atteſted by the holy cloſe of lippes,

Strengthened by interchangement of your Rings,

And all the Ceremony of this compact

Seal'd in my function, by my teſtimony :

Since when, my watch hath told me, toward my grave
I have travail'd but two hours.

Du. O thou diſſembling Cub: what wilt thou be

When time hath tow'd a grizzle on thy cafe ?

Or will not eſſ thy craft to quickly grow,

That thine owne trip ſhall be thine overthrow ?

Farewell, and take her, but direct thy feet,

Where thou, and I (henceforth) may never meet.

Vio. My Lord, I doe proteſk.

Ol. O do not ſweare,

How little faith, though thou haſt too much ſeare.

Enter Sir Andrew.

And. For the love of God a Surgeon, ſend one pre-
fently to fir Toby.

Ol. What's the matter?

And. H'as broke my head a-croſſe, and has given Sir
Toby a bloody Coxeſcombe to : for the love of God your
helpe, I had rather than forty pound I were at home.

Ol. Who has done this Sir Andrew?

And. The Counts Gentleman, one Cefario: wee tooke
him for a Coward, but he's the very Divell incarinate.

Du. My Gentleman Cefario?

And. Odd's lifelings here he is: you broke my head
for nothing, and that that I did, I was ſet on to doo't by fir
Toby.

Vio. Why doe you ſpeake to me, I never hurt you :

You drew your ſword upon me without cauſe,

But I beſpake you faire, and hurt you not.

Enter Toby and Clowne.

And. If a bloody Coxeſcombe be a hurt, you have hurt
me: I thinke you ſer nothing by a bloody Coxeſcombe,
Heere comes fir Toby halting, you ſhall beare more: but if
he had not beene in drinke, hee would have ticked'd you
other gates then he did.

Du. How now Gentleman ? how iſt with you ?

To. That's all one, has hurt me, and there's th'end on't.
Sot, didſt fee Dicke Surgeon for ?

Clo. O he's drunkke he above an houre agone: his eyes
were ſet at eight i'th morning.

To. Then he's a Rogue after a paffy meaſures Pavin: I
hate a drunken Rogue.

Ol. Away with him? Who hath made this havocke
with them?

And. He helpe you Sir Toby, because we'll be dreſſ to-
gether.

To. Will you helpe an Aſſe-head, and a Coxeſcombe,
and a Knave: a thinne-fac'd Knave, a Gull ?

274

Ol. Get him to bed, and let his hurt be look'd to.

*Enter Sebastian.*

Seb. I am sorry Madam I have hurt your kinfman:
But had it beene the brother of my blood,

I muft have done no leſſe with wit and ſatety.

You throw a ſtrange regard upon me, and by that
I doe perceive it hath offended you:

Pardon me (ſweet one) even for the vowes
We made each other, but ſo late ageo.

Du. One face, one voyce, one habit, and two perſons,
A naturall Perſpectiue, that is, and is not,

Seb. *Anthony, O my deare Anthony!*

How have the houres rack'd, and torturd me,
Since I have loft thee?

Ant. *Sebastian are you?*

Seb. *Fear it thou that Anthonio?*

Ant. How have you made division of your ſelfe,
An Apple cleft in two, is not more twin

Then theſe two creatures: Which is *Sebastian*?

Ol. Moſt wonderfull.

Seb. Doe I stand there ? I never had a brother :

Nor can there be a Deity in my nature

Of here, and every where. I had a filter,

Whom the blinde waves and ſurges have devour'd:
Of charity, what kinne are you to me?

What Countrymen? What name? What Parentage?

Vio. Of *Messuine*: *Sebastian was my Father,*

Such a *Sebastian* was my brother to :

So went he ſuited to his watery tombe :

If ſpirits can ſumme both ſorme and ſuite,
You come to frightus.

Seb. A ſpirit I am indeed,

But am in that dimenſion groſly clad,

Which from the Wombe I did participate.

Were you a woman, as the reſt goe even,

I should my teares let fall upon your cheeke,

And ſay, thrice welcome drowned Viola.

Vio. My Father had a Moale upon his brow.

Seb. And ſo had mine.

Vio. And did that day when Viola from her birth
Had numbred thirteene yeeres.

Seb. O that record is lively in my ſoule,

He finiſhed indeed his mortall acte:

That day that made my filter thirteene yeares.

Vio. If nothing lets to make vs happy both,

But this my maſculine ſurp'd attyre :

Doe not embrace me, till each circumſtance,
Of place, time, fortune, doe co-here and jumpe

That I am Viola, which to confirme,

Ile bring you to a Captaine in this Towne,

Where lye my Maiden weeds: by whose gentle helpe,
I was preferv'd to ſerve this noble Count :

All the occurrence of my fortune ſince

Hath been between this Lady, and this Lord.

Seb. So comes it Lady, you have beene miſtooke ;

But Nature to her bias drew in that.

You would have beene contracted to a Maid,
Nor are you therein (by my life) deceiv'd,
You are betroth'd both to a Maid and man.

Du. Be not amaz'd, right noble is his blood :

If this be ſo, as yet the glaſſe ſeemes true,
I ſhall have ſhafe in this moſt happy wracke.

Boy, thou haſt faſt to me a thouſand times,
Thou never ſhouſt love woman like to me.

Vio. And all thofe ſayings, will I overſwear,
And all thofe ſwearings keepe as true in ſoule,

As doth that Orbed Continent, the fire,
That ſevers day from night.

Du. Give me thy hand,

And let me fee thee in thy womans weeds.

Vio. The Captaine that did bring me firſt on ſhore,
Hath my Maides garments : he upon ſome Action
Is now in durance, at Malvolio's ſuite,
A Gentleman and follower of my Ladies.

Ol. He ſhall enlarge him : fetch Malvolio hither,
And yet alas, now I remember me,
They ſay, poore Gentleman, he's much diſtraſt.

*Enter the Clowne with a Letter, and Fabian.*

A moſt exaſting frenzie of mine owne,
From my remembrance, clearly banifh his.

How does he firrah?

Clo. Truely Madam, he holds Belzebub at the flaves
end as well as a man in his cafe may doe : has heere writ
a letter to you, I should have given't you to day morning.
But as a madmans Epiftles are no Gofpels, ſo it skills
not much when they are deliver'd.

Ol. Open't, and reade it.

Clo. Looke then to be well edified, when the Foole
delivers the Madman. *By the Lord Madam.*

Ol. How now, art thou mad ?

Clo. No Madam, I doe but reade madneſſe : and your
Ladship will have it as it ought to be, you muſt allow
Vox.

Ol. Prethee reade it thy right wits.

Clo. So I doe Madona : but to reade his right wits, is
to reade thus : therefore, perpend my Princeſſe, and give
care.

Ol. Reade it you, firrah.

Fab. *Reads.* By the Lord Madam, you wrong me, and
the world ſhall know it: Though you have put mee into
darkeneſſe, and given your drunken Cozen rule over me,
yet have I the benefit of my ſenſes as well as your Lad-
ship. I have your owne Letter, that induced me to the
ſemblance I put on ; with the which I doubt not, but to
doe my ſelfe much right, or you much ſhame : Thinke of
me as you pleafe. I leave my duty a little unthought of,
and ſpeake out of my injury. *The madly n'ſd Malvolio.*

Ol. Did he write this?

Clo. I Madame.

Du. This favours not much of diſtraſtion.

Ol. See him deliver'd Fabian, bring him hither:
My Lord, ſo pleafe you, the ſe things further thought on,
To thinke me as well a filter, as a wife,
One day ſhall crowne th' alliancy on't, ſo pleafe you,
Here at my houſe, and at my proper coſt.

Du. Madam, I am moſt apt to embrace your offer :
Your Maſter quits you : and for your ſervice done him,
So much againſt the meſt of your ſex,
So farre beneath your ſoft and tender breeding,
And ſince you call'd me Maſter, for ſo long :
Here is my hand, you ſhall from this time bee
Your Maſters Miftris.

Ol. A filter, you are ſhe.

*Enter Malvolio.*

Du. Is this the Madman ?

Ol. I my Lord, this fame : How now Malvolio ?

Mal. Madam, you have done me wrong,
Notorious wrong.

Ol. Have I Malvolio ? No.

Mal. Lady you have, pray you perſufe that Letter.
You muſt not now deny it is your hand,
Write from it if you can, in hand, or phraſe,

Or

Twelfth night, or What you will.

Or fay,'tis not your feale, not your invention :
You can fay none of this. Well, grant it then,
And tell me in the modeſty of honour,
Why you have given me ſuch cleare lights of favour,
Bad me come ſmiling and croſſe-garter'd to to you,
To put on yellow flockings, and to frowne
Vpon fir *Toby*, and the lighter people :
And aſting this in an obedient hope,
Why have you ſuffer'd me to be imprifon'd,
Kept in a darke houſe, viſited by the Prieſt,
And made the moſt notorious gecke or gull,
That ere invention plaid on ? Tell me why ?

Ol. Alas *Malvolio*, this is not my writing,
Though I conſeſſe, much like the Charaſter:
But out of queſtion, tis *Marías* hand.
And now I doe berhinke me, it was the
First told me thou waſt mad; then cam'ſt in ſmiling,
And in ſuch formes, which here were prefuppos'd
Vpon thee in the Letter: prethee be content,
This praſtife hath moſt ſhrewdly paſt upon thee:
But when we know the grounds and authors of it,
Thou ſhalt be both the Plaintiſſe and the Iudge
Of thine owne cauſe.

Fab. Good Madam here me ſpeake,
And let no quarrell, nor no brawle to come,
Taint the condition of this preſent houre,
Which I have wondred at. In hope it ſhall not,
Moſt freely I conſeſſe my ſelfe, and *Toby*
Set this device againſt *Malvolio* heere,
Vpon fome ſubſborne and uncourteous parts
We had conceiv'd againſt him. *Marías* writ
The Letter, at fir *Tobias* great importance,
Inrecompence whereof, he hath marryed her :
How with a ſportfull malice it was follow'd,
May rather plucke on laughter than revenge,
If that the injuries be juſtly weigh'd,
That have on both fides paſt.

Ol. Alas poore Foole how have they baffe'd thee ?

Clo. Why fome are borne great, ſome atchieve great-
neſſe, and ſome have greatneſſe throwne upon them. I
was one fir, in this Enterlude, one fir *Topas* fir, but that's

all one: By the Lord Foole, I am not mad: but doe you
remember, Madam, why laugh you at ſuch a barren rafcal,
and you ſmile not hee's gag'd: and thus the whirle-gigge
of time, brings in his revenges

Mal. Ile be reveng'd on the whole packe of you.

Ol. He hath beene moſt notoriously abus'd.

Du. Purfue him, and entreat him to a peace:

He hath not told us of the Captaine yet,
When that is knowne, and golden time convents,
A ſolemne Combination ſhall be made
Of our deere ſoules. Meane time weet ſifter,
We will not part from hence. *Cefario* come
(For so you ſhall be while you are a man:)
But when in other habites you are ſeene,
*Orfino's* Miftris, and his ſancies *Queene*.

Exeunt.

Clowne ſings.

When that I was and a little tine Boy,
with *hey*, *ho*, the winde and the raine :

A foolish thing was but a toy,
for the raine it raineth every day.

But when I came to manſeſtate
with *hey*, *ho*, &c.

Gains? knaves and theevves men ſhut their gare;
for the raine, &c.

But when I came alas to wive,
with *hey*, *ho*, &c.

By swaggering could I never thrive,
for the raine, &c.

But when I came unto my beds,
with *hey*, *ho*, &c.

With Tofpots ſtill bad drunken heads,
for the raine, &c.

A great while agoe the world begon,
with *hey*, *ho*, &c.

But that's all one, our Play is done,
and wee'll strive to please you every day.

FINIS.

The VVinters Tale:

Actus Primus. Scena Prima.

Eenter Camillo and Archidamus.

Arch.

If you shall chance (Camillo) to visit Bohemia, on the like occasion whereon my services are now on-foot, you shall fee (as I have said) great difference betwixt our Bohemia, and your Sicilia.

Cam. I thinke, this common Summer, the King of Sicilia means to pay Bohemia the visitation, which he jaſtly owes him.

Arch. Wherein our Entertainment shall fame us; we will be justified in our Loves: for indeed—

Cam. 'Beleech you—

Arch. Verely I fpeake it in the freedome of my knowledge: we cannot with much magnificence—in so far— I know not what to fy— We will give you fleepy Drinkes, that your Sences (un-intelligent of our infuſion) may, though they cannot praye us, as little acufeus.

Cam. You pay a great deale too deare, for what's given freely.

Arch. 'Beleeve me, I fpeake as my underſtanding inſtructs me, and as mine honeftie puts it to utterance.'

Cam. Sicilia cannot ſhew himselfe over-kind to Bohemia: They were trayn'd together in their Child-hoods; and there rooted betwixt them then ſuch an affection, which cannot chuse but branch now. Since their more mature Dignities, and Royall Necessities, made ſeperatiou of their Societie, their encounters (though not Perſonall) have beene royally attornied with enter-charge of Gift, Letters, loving Embaffies, that they have ſeem'd to be together, though abſent: ſhooke hands, as over a Vaſt Sea, and embrac'd as it were from the ends of oppofed Winds. The Heavens continue their Loves.

Arch. I thinke there is not in the World, either Maſlice or Matter, to alter it. You have an unſpeakable comfort of your young Prince Mamillius: it is a gentleman of the greatest Promife, that ever came into my Note.

Cam. I very well agree with you, in the hopes of him: it is a gallant Child; one that (indeed) Phyſicks the Subject, makes oldhearts fresh: they that went on Crutches ere he was borne, defire yet their life, to fee him a Man.

Arch. Would they eſſe be content to dye?

Cam. Yes; if there were no other excufe, why they should defire to live.

Arch. If the King had no Sonne, they would defire to live on Crutches till he had one.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Leontes, Hermione, Mamillius, Polixenes, Camillo.

Pol. Nine Changes of the Watry-Starre hath beene

The Shepheards Note, ſince we have left our Throne Without a Burthen: Time as long againe Would be fill'd up (my Brother) with our Thankes, And yet we ſhould, for perpetuitie, Goe hence in debt: And therefore, like a Cypher (Yet ſtanding in rich place) I multiply With one we thanke you, many thouſands moe, That goe before it.

Leo. Stay your Thankes a while,

And pay them when you part.

Pol. Sir, that's to morrow:

I am queſtion'd by my ſeares of what may chance,
Or breed upon our abſence, that may blow
No ſneaping Winds at home, to make us ſay,
This is put forth too truly: beſides, I have ſtay'd
To tyre your Royaltie.

Leo. We are tougher (Brother)

Then you can put us to't.

Pol. No longer ſtay.

Leo. One Seven'night longer.

Pol. Very footh, to morrow.

Leo. Wee'le part the time betweene's then: and in that Ile no gaine ſaying.

Pol. Preſſe me not ('befeech you) ſo:

There is no Tongue that moves; none, none i'th' Would So ſoone as yours, could win me: ſo it ſhould now,
Were there neceſſitie in your requeſt, although
'Twere needfull I deny'd it. My Aſſaires
Doe even drag me home-ward: which to hinder,
Were (in your Love) a Whip to me; my ſtay,
To you a Charge, and Trouble: to ſave both,
Farewell (our brother.)

Leo. Tongue-ty'd our Queene? ſpeake you.

Her. I had thought (Sir) to have held my peace, untill You haddrawne Oathes from him, not to ſtay: you (Sir) Charge him too coldly. Tell him, you are ſure All in Bohemia's well: this ſatisfaction,
The by-gone-day proclaim'd, ſay this to him,
He's beat from his beſt ward.

Leo. Well ſaid, Hermione.

Her. To tell, he longs to fee his Sonne, were ſtrong: But let him ſay ſo then, and let him goe;
But let him ſware ſo, and he ſhall not ſtay,
Wee'l thwack him hence with Diflaffes.
Yet of your royall prefence, Ile adventure
The borow of a Weeke. When at Bohemia

You take my Lord, Ile give him my Commiſſion,
To let him there a Moneth, behind the Geſt
Prefix'd for's parting: yet (good-heed) Leontes,
I love thee not a Iarre o'th' Clock, behind

A a

What

The Winters Tale.

278

What Lady the her Lord. You'le flay ?

Pol. No, Madame.

Her. Nay, but you will ?

Pol. I may not verily.

Her. Verily?

You put me off with limber Vowes : but I,
Though you would feek t'unsphere the Stars with Oaths,
Should yet fay, Sir, no going : Verely
You shall not goe; a Ladies Verely' is
As potent as a Lords. Will you goe yet?

As potent as a Lords. Will you goe yet?
Force me to keepe you as a Prifoner,
Not like a Gueft: fo you shall pay your Fees

Not like a Gueft: fo you shall pay your Fees
When you depart, and fave your Thankes. How fay you?

When you depart, and fave your Thankes. How fay you?
My Prifoner? or my Gueft ? by your dread verely,
One of them you shall be.

One of them you shall be.

Pol. Your Gueft then Madame :

To be your Prifoner, should import offenings

Which is for me leſſe eaſie to commit,

Then you to puniſh.

Her. Not your Gaoler then,

But your kind Hofferle, Come, Ile queſtion you

Of my Lords Tricks and yours, when you were Boyes :

You were pretty Lordings then ?

Pol. We were (faire Queene)

Two Lads, that thought there was no more behind,
But fuch a day to morrow, as to day;

And to be boy eternal.

Hel. Was not my Lord

The verier Wag o' th' two ?

Pol. We were as twyn'd Lambs, that did frisk i'th'Sun
And bleat the one at th'other : what we chang'd,

Was Innocence, for innocence : we knew not

The Doſtine of ill-doing, no nor dream'd

That any did : Had we purfu'd that life,

And our weake Spirits ne're beene higher rear'd

With ſtronger blood, we ſhould have anſwer'd Heaven
Boldly, not guilty ; the Impofition clear'd,
Hereditarie ours.

Hel. By this we gather

You have tript ſince:

Pol. O my moſt ſacred Lady,

Temptations have ſince then beene borne to's: for

In thofe unfledg'd dayes, was my Wifc a Girlc ;

Your precious ſelfe had then not croſ'd the eyes

Of my young Play-fellow.

Her. Grace to boot :

Of this make no conclusion, leaſt you fay

Your Queene and I are Devils : yet goe on,

Th' offences we have made you doe, wee'le anſwere,

If you firſt finn'd with us : and that with us

You did continue fault; and that you flipt not

With any, but with us.

Leo. Is he wonne yet?

Her. Hee'le flay, (my Lord.)

Leo. At my requeſt, he would not :

Hermione (my deareft) thou never ſpoak'ft

To better purpofe,

Her. Never?

Leo. Never, but once.

Her. What? have I twice faid well? when was't before?

I prethee tell me : cram's with praiſe, and make's

As fat as tame things : One good deed, dying tongueleſſe,
Slaughtera thou ſand, wayting upon that.

Our prayſes are our Wages, You may ride's

With one ſoft Kiffe a thou ſand Furlongs,ere

With Spur we heat an Acre. But to th' Goale :

My laſt good deed was to intreat his ſtay.

What was my firſt ? it ha's an elder Sifter,
Or I miſtake you : O, would her name were Grace,
But once before I ſpoke to th' purpofe ? when?

Nay, let me have't : I long.

Leo. Why, that was when

Three crabbed Moneths had ſow'r'd themſelves to death,

Ere I could make thee open thy white Hand :

And clap thy ſelſe, my Love; then didſt thou utter,
I am yours for ever.

Her. 'Tis Grace indeed.

Why lo-you now; I have ſpoke to th' purpofetwice:

The one for ever earn'd a Royall Husband ;

Th' other, for ſome while a Friend.

Leo. Too hot, too hot :

To mingle friendſhip farre, is mingling bloods.

I have Tremor Cordis on me : my heart daunces,

But not for joy; nor joy. This entertainment

May a free face put on : derives a Libertie

From Heartineſle, from Bountie, fertile Boſome,

And we'll become the Agent: 't may, I kraut: :

But to be padling Palmes, and pinching fingers,

As now they are, and making practis'd Smiles

As in a Looking-Glaſſe: and then to ſigh, as 'twere

The Mort o' th' Deere: oh, that is entertainment

My Boſome likes not, nor my Browes. Mamillium,
Art thou my Boy ?

Mam. I my good Lord.

Leo. Iſecks :

Why that's my Bawcock: what has't ſmitch'd thy Noſt

They ſay it is a Coppy out of mine. Come Captains,

We muſt be neat ; not neat, cleanly Captaine :

And yet the Steere, the Heycfer, and the Calfe,

Are all call'd Neate. Still Virginall

Vpon his palme? How now (you wanton Calſe)

Art thou my Calfe ?

Mam. Yes if you will (my Lord.)

Leo. Thou want't a rough path, & the ſhootes that I have

To be full, like me: yet they ſay we are

Almoſt as like as Egges ; Women ſay fo,

(That will ſay any thing,) But were they ſalſe

As o're-dy'd Blackes, as Wind, as Waters; ſalſe

As Dice are to be wifh'd, by one that fixes

No borne 'twixt his and mine ; yet were it true,

To ſay this Boy were like me. Come (Sir Page)

Looke on me with your Welkin eye: Iweet Villaines.

Moſt dear'ft, my Collop: Can thy Dam, may't be
Affection? thy intention ſtab's the Center.

Thou do'ſt make poffible things not be ſo held,

Communicat'ft with Dreames (how can this be?)

With what's unreall: thou coactive art,

And ſellow'ft nothing. Then 'tis very credent,

Thou may'ſt co-joyne with ſomething, and thou do'ſt,
(And that beyond commiffion) and I finde it,
(And that to the infection of my Braines,
And hardning of my Browes.)

Pol. What meanes Sicilia?

Her. He ſomething ſeemes unſetled.

Pol. How? my Lord ?

Leo. What cheere? how 's't with you, beſt Brother ?

Her. You look as if you held a brow of much diſtraction,
Are you mov'd (my Lord?)

Leo. No, in a good earneſt.

How ſometimes Nature will betray it's folly?

It's tenderneſſe; and make it ſelſe a Paſtime

To harder boſomes? Looking on the Lynes

Of

The Winters Tale.

279

Of my Boyes face, me thoughts I did requoyle
Twentie three yeares, and faw my felfe unbreech'd,
In my greene Velvet Coat,my Dagger muzzel'd,
Leaft it should bite it's Mafter, and fo prove
(As Ornaments oft do's ) too dangerous :
How like (me thought) I then was to this Kernell,
This Squath, this Gentleman. Mine honeſt frend,
Will you take egges for Money ?

Alam. No (my Lord) Ile fight.

Leo. You will: why happy man be's dole. My Brother
Are you fo fond of your young Prince, as we
Doe fee me to be of ours?

Pol. If at home (Sir)

Hee's all my Exercife, my Mirth, my Matter ;
Now my ſworne Friend, and then mine Enemie;

My parafite, my Souldier : Stateſe-man;all :
He makes a lulyes day, ſhort as December,
And with his varying child-neſſe, cures in me
Thoughts, that ſhould thicke my blood.

Leo. So it stands this Squire

Offi'd with me : We two will walke (my Lord)

And leave you to your graver ſteps. Hermione,
How thou louſt, us, ſhew in our Brothers welcome ;

Let what is deare in Sicilia, be cheape :
Next to thy ſelfe, and my young Rover, hee's
Apparant to my heart.

Her. If you would feeke us,

Weare yours i'th' Garden : ſhall'st attend you there?

Leo. To your owne bents diſpofe you: you'le be found,
Be you beneath the Sky : I am angling now,
(Though you perceive me not how I give Lyne)
Goe to, goe to.

How he holds up the Neb? the Byll to him ?
And armes her with the boldneſſe of a Wife
To her allowing Husband. Gone already,
Yuch-thicke, knee-deepe; ore head and eares a fork'd one.

Goe play (Boy) play : thy Mother playes, and I
Play too; but fo diſgrac'd a part, whoſe iſſue

Will hile me to my Grave : Contempt and Clamor
Will be my Kernell. Goe play (Boy) play, there have been
(Or I am much deceiv'd.) Cuckolds ere now,

And many a man there is (even at this prefent,
Now, while I (peake this) holds his Wife by th' Arme,
That little thinkes he ha' beene fluyce'd inns abſence,
And his Pond fifth'd by his next Neighbor (by
Sir Smile, his Neighbor:) nay, there's comfort in't,

Whiles other men have Gates, and thofe Gates open'd
(As mine) againſt their will. Should all deſpaire
That have revolten Wives, the tenth of Mankind
Would hang themſelves. Phyſicke for't, there's none:
It is a bawdy Planet, that will ſtrike

Where 'tis p[ro]eominant; and 'tis powrefull : thinke it:
From Eaſt, Weaſt, North, and South, be it concluded,

No Barricado for a Belly. Know't,
It will let in and out the Enemie,
With bag and baggage : many thousand on's

Have the Difeſe, and feele't nother. How now Boy?

Mam. I am like you they ſay.

Leo. Why, that's ſome comfort.

What? Camillo there?

Cam. I, my good Lord,

Lo. Got play (Mamilliu) thou'rt an honeſt man:
Camillo, this great Sir will yet ſtay longer.

Cam. You had much adoe to make his Anchor hold,

When you cailt out, it ſtill came home.

Leo. Didst note it?

Cam. He would not ſtay at your petitions, made
His buſineſſe more materiall.

Leo. Didst perceive it?

They're here with me already; whisp'ring, rounding:
Sicilia is a ſo-forth: 'tis farre gone,
When I shall guſt it laſt. How cam't (Camillo)
That he did ſtay ?

Cam. At the good Queenes intreatie.

Leo. At the Queenes be't : Good should be pertinent,
But ſo it is, it is not. Was this taken

By any underſtanding pate butthine ?
For thy conceit is foaking, will draw in
More then the common Blocks. Not noted, is't,
But of the finer Natures? by ſome Severalls
Of Head-peece extraordinary? Lower Mefſes
Parchance are to this buſineſſe purblind? ſay.

Cam. Buſineſſe, my Lord? I thinke moſt underſtand
Bohemia ſtayes heere longer.

Leo. Ha?

Cam. Stayes here longer.

Leo. I, but why?

Cam. To ſatisfie your Highneſſe, and the Entreaties
Of our moſt gracious Miftris.

Leo. Satisſe ?

Th'entreaties of your Miftreſſe? Satisſe ?

Let that ſuſſice. I have truſted thee (Camillo)

With all the neereſt things to my heart, as well
My Chamber-Councels, wherein (Prieſt-like) thou

Haſt cleans'd my Boſome : I, from thee departed

Thy penitent reform'd : but we have beene

Deceiv'd in thy integritie, deceiv'd

In that which ſeemes ſo.

Cam. Be it forbid (my Lord.)

Leo. To bide upon't: thou art not honeſt : or
If thou inclinſt that way, thou art a Coward,
Which hoxes honeſtie behind, reſtrayning

From Courſe requi'd: or eſſe thou muſt be counted

A Servant, grafted in my ſerious Truſt,

And therein negligent : or eſſe a Foole,

That ſeeſt a Game pla'i'd home, the rich Stake drawne,

And tak't it all for jaſt.

Cam. My gracious Lord,

I may be negligent, fooliſh, and ſearefull,

In every one of theſe, no man is free,

But that his negligence, his folly, ſeare,

Amongſt the infinite doing of the World,

Sometime puts forth in your affaires (my Lord.)

If ever I were wilſull-negligent,

It was my ſolly ſ; if induſtriously

I pla'i'd the foole, it was my negligence,

Not weighing well the end : if ever ſearefull

To doe a thing, where I the iſſue doubted,

Whereof the execution did cry out

Againſt the non-performance. 'twas a ſeare

Which oft inſeets the wifel : theſe (my Lord)

Are ſuch allow'd Inſirmities that honeſtite

Is never free of. But be ſeech your Grace

Be plainer with me, let me know my treſpas

By it's owne viſage ; if I then deny it,

'Tis none of mine.

Leo. Ha' not you ſeele Camillo?

(But that's paſt doubt: you have, or your eye-glaffe

Is thicker then a Cuckolds Horne) or heard ?

(For to a Viſion ſo apparent, Rumor

Cannot be mute) or thought? (for Cogitation

Reſides not in that man, that do's not thinke)

A a a

My

The Winters Tale.

280

My Wife is flipperie ? If thou wilt confeſſe,
Or else be impudently negative,
To have nor Eyes,nor Eares,nor Thought, then ſay
My Wife's a Holy-Horſe, deſerves a Name
As ranke as any Flax- Wench, that puts to
Before her troth-plight : ſay't, and juſtify't.

Cam. I would not be a ſtander-by, to heare
My Soveraigne Miftreſſe clouded ſo, without
My preſent vengence taken : ſhrew my heart,
You never ſpoke what did become you ſelle
Then this; which to reiterate, were ſin
As deepe as that, though true.

Leo. Is whispering nothing ?

Is leaning Cheeket o Cheeke? is meating Noſes ?
Kilſing with in-ſide Lip? ſtopping the Cariere
Of Laugher, with a ſigh? (a Note inſallible
Of breaking honeſtie) horſing foot on foot ?
Skulking in corners? wihing Clocks more ſwift?

Houres, Minutes? the Noone, Mid-night ? and all Eyes
Blind with the Pin and Web, but theirs; theirs only,
That would ſunſene be wicked? Is this nothing?
Why then the World, and all that's in't, is nothing,

The covering Skie is nothing, Bohemia nothing,
My Wife is nothing, nor Nothing have these Nothings,
If this be nothing.

Cam. Good my Lord, be cur'd
Of this difeas'd Opinion, and betimes,
For'tis moſt dangerous.

Leo. Say it be, 'tis true.

Cam. No, no, my Lord.

Leo. It is : you lye,you lye :
I ſay thou lye't Camillo, and I hate thee,
Pronounce thee a groſſe Lowt, a mindleſſe Slave,
Or else a hovering Temporizer, that
Canſt with thine eyes at once ſee good and evill,
Inclining to them both : were my wives Liver
Infected (as her life) the would not live
The running of one Glafſe.

Cam. Who do's infect her ?

Leo. Why he that weares her like her Medull, hanging
About his necke (Bohemia) who, if I

Had Servants true about me, that bare eyes
To fee alike mine Honor, as their profits,
(Their owne particular Thrifts) they would doe that
Which ſhould undoe more doing : I, and thou
His Cup-bearer, whom I from meaner forme
Have Bench'd, and rear'd to Worſhip, who may't ſee
Plainely, as Heaven ſees Earth, and Earth ſees Heaven,
How I am gall'd, thou might't be ſpice a Cup,
To give mine ſnemie a laiting Winke:

Which Draught to me, were cordiall,

Cam. Sir (my Lord)

I could doe this, and that with no rath Potion,
But with a lingring Dram, that ſhould not worke
Maliciously, like Poyſon : But I cannot
Beleeve this Cracke to be in my dread Miftreſſe
(So foveraignely being Honorable.)

I have lov'd thee.

Leo. Make that thy queſtion, and goe rot :
Do't thinke I am ſo muddy, ſounſetled,
To appoint my ſelfe in this vexation ?
Sully the puritie and whiteneſſe of my Sheetes
(Which to preferue, is Sleepe: which being ſpotted,
Is Goades, Thornes, Nettles, Tailes of Wafpes)
Give ſcandall to the blood o'th' Prince, my Sonne,
(Who I doethinke is mine, and love as mine)

Without ripe moving to't? Would I doe this?
Could man ſo ſblench ?

Cam. I muſt beleeve you (Sir)

I doe, and will ſetch off Bohemia for't :
Provided, that when hee's remov'd, your Highneſſe,
Will take againe your Queene, as yours at firſt,
Even for your Sonnes ſake, and thereby for fealing
The Injurie of Tongues, in Courts and Kingdomes
Knowne, and ally'd to yours.

Leo. Thou do't advife me,
Even ſo as I mine owne courſe have ſet downe :
Ile give no blemiſh to her Honor, none.

Cam. My Lord,

Goe then; and with a countenance as cleare
As Friendſhip weares at Feaſts, keepe with Bohemia,
And with your Queene : I am his Cup-bearer,
It from me he have wholeſome Beveridge,
Account me not your Servant.

Leo. This is all :

Do't, and thou haſt the one halſe of my heart;
Do't not, thou ſplitt't thine owne.

Cam. Ile do't, my Lord.

Loo. I will ſeeme friendly, as thou haſt adviſ'd me. Exh.

What cafe ſand I in ? I muſt be the poyſoner
Of good Polixenes, and my ground to do't,
Is the obedience to a Maſter; one,
Who in Rebellion with himſelfe, will have
All that are his, ſo too. To doe this deed,
Promotion followes : If I could find example
Of thouſand's that had ſtruck anoynted Kings,
And flouriſh'd after, I'd not do't : But ſince
Nor Braſſe, nor Stone, nor Parchment beares not one,
Let Villany ſelfe forſwer't. I muſt
Forſake the Court : to do't, or no, is certaine
To me a breake-necke. Happy Starre raigne now,
Here comes Bohemia
Enter Polixenes.

Ple. This is ſtrange : Me thinkes
Me fauor here begins to warpe. Not ſpeake?
Good day Camillo.

Cam. Hoyle moſt royall Sir.

Pol. What is the Newes i'th' Court ?

Cam. None rare (my Lord.)

Pol. The King hath on him ſuch a countenance,
As he had loft ſome Province, and a Region
Lov'd, as he loves himſelfe: even now I met him
With cuſtomatic complement, when he
Waſting his eyes to th' contrary, and falling
A Lippe of much contempt, ſpeedes from me, and
So leaves me, to confider what is breeding,
Which changes thus his Manners.

Cam. I dare not know (my Lord.)

Pol. How, date not? do not? do not? you know, and dare not?
Be intelligent to me, 'tis there abouts :
For to your ſelfe, what you doe know, you muſt,
And cannot ſay, you dare not. Good Camillo,
Your chang'd complexions are to me a Mirror,
Which ſhewes me mine chang'd too: for I muſt be
A party in this alteration, finding
My ſelfe thus alter'd with't.

Cam. There is a ficknes
Which puts ſome of vs in diſtemper, but
I cannot name the Difeaſe, and it is caught
Of you, that yet are well.

Pol. How caught of me?

Make me not fighted like the Baſſilique.

I have

The Winters Tale.

282

Mam. There was a man.

Her. Nay, come fit downe : then on.

Mam. Dwelt by a Church-yard : I will tell it softely,
Yond Crickets, shall not heare it,

Her. Come on then, and giv't me in mine eare. Entér L.

Leon. Was he met there ? his Traine? Camillo with him?

Lord. Behind the tuft of Pines I met them, never
Saw I men fowre fo on their way : I eyed them
Even to their Ships.

Leo. How bleft am I

In my juft Cenfure? in my true Opinion ?
Alack, for leffer knowledge, how accurs'd,
In being fo bleft ? There may be in the Cup
A Spider fleep'd, and one may drinke; depart,
And yet partake no venome; (for his knowledge
Is not infeeted) but if one prefent
Th'abhor'd Ingredient to his eye, make knowne
How he hath drunke, he cracks his gorge, his fides
With violent Hefes: I have drunke, and feene the Spider.

Camillo was his helpe in this, his Pander :

There is a plot against my Life, my Crowne :
All's true that is miftrufted: that falfe Villaine,
Whom I employ'd, was pre-employ'd by him :
He ha's difcover'd my Difygne, and I

Remaine a pinch'd Thing; yea, a very Tricke
For them to play at will : how came the Pofternes

So eafily open?

Lord. By his great authoritie,
Which often hath no leife prevail'd, then fo,
On your command.

Leo. I know't too well.

Give me the Boy, I am glad you did not nurfe him :
Though he do's beare fome lignes of me, yet you
Have too much blood in him.

Her. What is this? Sport?

Leo. Beare the Boy hence, he shall not come about her,
Away with him, and let her fport her ſelfe
With that ſhe's big-with, for'tis Polixenes
Ha's made thee ſwell thus.

Her. But I'll ſay he had not ;

And Ile be ſworne you would beleeve my faying,
How e're you leane to th'Nay-ward.

Leo. You (my Lords)

Looke on her, marke her well : be but about
To ſay ſhe is a goodly Lady, and
The juſtice of your hearts will thereto adde
'Tis pitty ſhe's not honelt: Honorable ;
Prayſe her but for this her without-dore-Forme,
(Which on my faith deferves high ſpeech) and ſtraight
The Shrug; the Hum, or Ha, (theſe Petty-brands
That Calumnie doth uſe: Oh I am out,
That Mery do's, for Calumnie will ſcare
Vertue it ſelfe) theſe Shrugs, theſe Hum's, and Ha's,
When you have faid ſhe's goodly, come betweene,
Ere you can ſay ſhe's honelt: But be't knowne
(From him that ha's moſt cauſe to grieve it ſhould be
She's an Adultreſſe.

Her. Should a Villaine ſay fo,
(The moſt replenifh'd Villaine in the World)
He were as much more Villaine: you (my Lord)
Doe but miftake.

Leo. You have miftooke (my Lady)
Polixenes for Leontes : O thou Thing,

(Which Ile not call a Creature of thy place,
Leaſt Barbarifme (making me the precedent)

Should a like Language uſe to all degrees;
And mannerly diſtinguifhment leave out,
Betwixt the Prince and Begger :) I have faid
Shee's an Adultreſſe, I have faid with whom:
More: Shee's a Traytor, and Camillo is
A Federarie with her, and one that knowes
What ſhe ſhould ſhame to know her ſelfe,
But with her moſt viſd Principall; that ſhe's
A Bed-Iwarver, even as bad as thofe
That Vulgars give bold'ft Titles; I, and privie
To this their late eſcape.

Her. No (by my life)

Privy to none of this : how will this grieve you,
When you ſhall come to clearer knowledge, that
You thus have publifh'd me? Gentle my Lord,
You ſcarce can right me throughly, then, to ſay
You did miftake.

Leo. No: if I miftake

In thofe Foundations which I build upon,
The Centre is not bigge to beare
A Schoole-Boyes Top. Away with her, to Prifon:
He who ſhall ſpeake for her, is a farre-off guiltie,
But that he ſpeakes.

Her. Th而这's ſome ill planet raignes:
I muſt be patient, till the Heavens looke
With an affect more favorable. Good my Lords,
I am not prone to weeping (as our Sex
Commonly are) the want of which vaine dew
Perchance ſhall dry your pitties : but I have
That honorable Grieſe lodg'd here, which burnes
Worſe then Teares droune : 'befeech you all (my Lords)
With thoughts ſo qualified, as your Charities
Shall beſt inſtruct you, meaſure me; and ſo
The Kings will be perform'd.

Leo. Shall I be heard?

Her. Who is't that goes with me?'befeech your Highines
My women may be with me, for you ſee
My plight requires it. Doe not weepe (good Fools)
There is no cauſe: When you ſhall know your Miftris
Ha's deferv'd Prifon, then abound in Teares,
As I come out; this Action I now goe on,
Is for my better grace. Adieu (my Lord)
I never wifh'd to ſee you forry, now
I truſt I ſhall: my Women come, you have leave.

Leo. Go, doe our bidding: hence.

Lord. Befeech your Highneſſe call the Queene againe.

Am. Be certaine what you do (Sir) leaſt your Inſtice
Prove violence, in the which three great ones ſuffer,
Your ſelfe, your Queene, your Sonne.

Lord. For her (my Lord)
I dare my life lay downe, and will do't (Sir)
Please you to accept it, that the Queene is ſpottleſſe
I' th'eyes of Heaven, and to you (I meane
In this, which you accuſe her.)

Antig. If it prove
She's other wife, Ile keepe my Stables where
I lodge my Wife, Ile goe in couples with her :
Then when I feele, and fee her, no further truſt her :
For every ynch of Woman in the World,
I, every dram of Womans ſfeth is ſalfes,
If ſhe be.

Leo. Hold my peaces.

Lord. Good my Lord.

Antg. It is for you we ſpeake, not for our ſelves:
You are abus'd, by ſome putter on,
That will be damn'd for't: would I knew the Villaine,

I would

I won't

I have

The fo

If this

I'll ge

To br

And I

Shou

Leo.

You fa

As is

As yo

The I

Ant.

We n

There

Of th

Leo.

Vpon

To ha

Be bl

Leo.

Comm

Our fo

Calsn

Impa

Or fee

Relif

We n

The l

Is all

An

You h

With

Lea

Either

Or th

Addes

(Whi

That l

But o

Made

Yet, f

For t

Mof

To fa

Cleom

Of th

They s

Lo

Leo.

Shall t

Lo.

Then

Give

Wh

Com

From

Leaft

Beleft

We a

An

If the

The Winters Tale.

I would Land-damne him : be the honor-flaw'd,
I have three daughters : the eldeft is eleven:
The fecond, and the third, nine : and fonnes five :
If this prove true, they'l pay for't. By mine honor
He gell'd em all : fouretene they shall not fee
To bring falfe generations : they are co-heires,
And I had rather glib my felfe, then they
Should not produce faire iffue.

Leo. Ceaſe, no more :

You smell this bufineſſe with a fence as cold
As is a dead-mans noſe : but I do fee't, and feel't,
As you feele doing thus : and fee withall
The Inſtruments that feele.

Ant. If it be ſo,

We neede no grave to burie honeſtie,
There's not a graine of it, the face to ſweeten
Of the whole dungy-earth.

Leo. What ? lacke I credit ?

Lyd. I had rather you did lacke then I (my Lord)
Vpon this ground : and more it would content me
To have her Honor true, then your ſuſpition
Be blam'd for't how you might.

Leo. Why what neede we

Commune with you for this ? but rather follow
Our forcefull inſtigation ? Our prerogative
Calsnot our Counſailes, but our natural goodneſſe
Imparts this : which, if you, or ſlupified,
Or ſeeming ſo, in skill; cannot, or will not
Reliſh a truth, like us: inſorme your ſelves
We neede no more of your advice : the matter,
The loſſe, the gaine, the ord'ring on't,
Is all properly onr's.

Ant. And I wifh (my Liege)

You had onely in your ſilent judgment tride it,
Without more overtures.

Leo. How could that be ?

Either thou art moſt ignorant by age,
Or thou wer't borne a foole : Camillo's flight
Added to their Familiarity
(Which was as groſſe, as ever touch'd conjecture,
That lack'd fight onely, nought for approbation
But only feeing, all other circumſtances
Made up to th' deed) doth push on this proceeding,
Yet, for a greater confirmation
(For in an act of this importance, 'twere
Moſt pitious to be wilde) I have difpatch'd in poſt,
To facred Delphos, to Apollo's Temple,
Cleomines and Deon, whom you know
Of ſluff'd-inſufficiency: Now, from the Oracle
They will bring al, whose ſpirituall conſailes had,
Shall flop, or ſpurre me. Have I done well?

Lord. Well done (my Lord.)

Leo. Though I am ſatifyde, and neede no more
Then what I know, yet ſhall the Oracle
Give reſt to th' mindes of others; ſuch as he
Whole ignorant credulity will not
Come up to th' truth. So have we thought it good
From our free perſon, ſhe should be confinde,
Leaſt that the treachery of the two, ſied hence,
Beleſt her to performe. Come follow us,
We are to ſpeake in publike : for this bufineſſe
Will raſe us all.

Antig. To laughter, as I take it,
If the good truth, were knowne.

Exeunt.

## Scena Secunda.

Enter Paulina, a Gentleman, Gaoler, Emilia.

Paul. The Keeper of the prifon, call to him :

Let him have knowledge whom I am. Good Lady,
No Court in Europe is too good for thee,
What doth thou then in prifon? Now good Sir,
You know me, do you not?

Gao. For a worthy Lady,

And one, whom much I honour.

Pau. Pray you then,

Conduct me to the Queene.

Gao. I may not (Madam)

To the contrary I have expreſſe commandment.

Pau. Here's a-do, to locke up honeſtie and honor from
Th' acceſſe of gentle vifitors. Is't lawfull pray you
To fee her Women ? Any of them ? Emilia?

Gao. So pleafe you (Madam)

To put a-part theſe your attendants, I
Shall bring Emilia forth.

Pau. I pray you now call her :
With-draw your ſelves.

Gao. And Madam,

I muſt be prefent at your Conference.

Pau. Well : be't ſo : prethee.

Heere's ſuch a-doe, to make no ſtaine, a ſtaine,
Aspafes colouring. Deare Gentlewoman,
How fares one gracious Lady ?

Emil. As well as one ſo great, and ſo forlorne
May hold together : On her frights, and greeſes
(Which never tender Lady hath borne greater)
She is, ſomething before her time, deliver'd.

Pau. A boy ?

Emil. A daughter, and a goodly babe,
Luſty, and like to live : the Queene receives
Much comfort in't : Sayes, my poore prifoner,
I am innocent as you,

Pau. I dare be ſworne :

Theſe dangerous, unsafe Lunes i' th' King, beſhrew them,
He muſt be told on't, and he ſhall : the orſice
Becomes a woman beſt. Ile take't upon me,
If I prove hony-mouth'd, let my tongue blifter.
And never to my red-look'd Anger be
The Trumpet any more : pray you (Emilia)

Commend my beſt obedience to the Queene,
If ſhe dares truſt me with her little babe,
Ile ſhew't the King, and undertake tobe
Her Advocate to th' lowd'ſt. We do not know
How he may ſofen at the fight o' th' Childe :
The ſilence often of pure innoeence
Perſwades, when ſpeaking failles.

Emil. Moſt worthy Madam,
Your honour, and your goodneſſe is ſo evident,
That your free undertaking cannot miſle
A thriving iffue : there is no Lady living
So meete for this great errand; pleafe your Ladiship
To vifit the next roome, Ile prefently
Acquaint the Queene of your moſt noble offer,
Who, but to day hammered of this deſigne,
But durſt not tempt a minifter of honor
Leaſt ſhe should be deny'd.

Enter
Emilia.

Pau.

284

The Winters Tale.

Paul. Tell her (Emilia)

Ile ufe that tongue I have : If wit flow from't
As boldneſſe from my boſome, le't not be doubted
I ſhall do good.

Emil. Now be you bleſſ for it.

Iie to the Queene : pleate you come ſomething neerer.

Gao. Madam, if't pleafe the Queene to ſend the babe,
I know not what I ſhall incurre, to paffe it,

Having no warrant.

Pau. You need not feare it (ſir)

This Childe was prifoner to the wombe, and is
By Law and proceſſe of great Nature, thence
Free'd, and enfranchis'd, not a partie to
The anger of the King, nor guilty of
(If any be) the trefpaffe of the Queene.

Gao. I do believe it.

Paul. Do not you feare : upon mine honor, I
Will ſtand betwixt you, and danger.

Exeunt.

## Scena Tertia.

Enter Leontes, Servants, Paulina, Antigonus,
and Lords.

Leo. Nor night, nor day, no reſt : It is but weakneſſe

To beare the matter thus : meere weakneſſe, if
The cauſe were not in being : part o'th cauſe,
She, th' Adulterſe; for the harlot-King

Is quite beyond mine arme: out of the blanke
And levell of my braine : plot-prooſe : but ſhe,
I can hooke to me : ſay that ſhe were gone,
Given to the fire, a moity of my reſt

Might come to me againe. Whole there ?

Ser. My Lord.

Enner.

Leo. How do's the boy ?

Ser. He tooke good reſt to night : 'tis hop'd
His ſickneſſe is diſcharg'd.

Leo. To fee his Noblenſe,

Conceiving the diſhonour of his Mother,
He ſtraight declin'd, droop'd, tooke it deeply,
Faſten'd, and fix'd the ſhame on't in himſelfe :
Threw-off his Spirit, his Appetite, his Sleepe,
And down-right languifh'd. Leave me ſolely : goe,
See how he fares : Fie, ſie, no thought of him,

The very thought of my Revenges that way

Recoyle upon me : in himſelfe too mighty,

Vntill a time may ferue, For preſent vengeance

Take it on her : Camillo, and Polixenes
Laugh at me; make their paſttime at my ſorrow :
They ſhould not laugh, if I could reach them, nor
Shall ſhe, within my powre.

Enter Paulina.

Lord. You muſt not enter.

Paul. Nay rather (good my Lords) be ſecond to me:
Feare you his tyrannous paſſion more (alas)
Then the Queenes life ? A gracious innocent ſoule,
More free, then he is icalous.

Antig. That's enough.

Ser. Madam ; he hath not ſlept to night, commanded
None ſhould come at him.

Pau. Not ſo hot (good Sir)

I come to bring him fleece. 'Tis ſuch as you

That creepe like fhadowes by him, and do ſfighe
At each his needleſſe heauings: ſuch as you

Nourifh the cauſe of his awaking. I

Do come with words, as medicinall, as true;
(Honeſt, as either;) to purge him of that humor,
That preſſes him from fleepe.

Leo. What noyſe there, hoe ?

Pau. No noyſe (my Lord) but neeſtall conference,
About ſome Gofſips for your Highneſſe.

Leo. How ?

Away with that audacious Lady. Antigonus
I charg'd thee that ſhe ſhould not come about me,
I knew ſhe would.

Ant. I told her ſo (my Lord)

On your diſpleatures perill and on mine,
She ſhould not viſit you.

Leo. What? canſt not rule her ?

Paul. From all diſhoneſſe he can : in this
(Vnleſſe he take the courſe that you have done)
Commit me, for committing honor, true it,
He ſhall not rule me :

Ant. La-you now, you heare,
When ſhe will take the raine, I let her run,
But ſhe'e! not ſtumble.

Paul. Good my liege I come:

And I beſeech you heare me: who proſeſſes
My ſelfe your loyall ſervant, your Phtſitian,
Your moſt obedient Counſailor : yet that dares
Leſſe appeare ſo, in comforting your Evillès,
Then ſuch as moſt ſeeme yours. I ſay, I come
From your good Queene.

Leo. Good Queene.

Paul. Good Queene (my Lord) good Queene,
I ſay good Queene,
And would by combate, make her good ſo, were I
A man, the workt about you.

Leo. Force her hence.

Paul. Let him that makes but trifles of his eyes
Fift hand me : on mine owne accord, Ile off,
But firſt; Ile do my errand. The good Queene
(For ſhe is good) hath brought you forth a daughter,
Heere'tis : Commends it to your bleſſing.

Leo. Out :

A mankinde Witch? Hence with her, out o'dore :
A moſt intelliging bawd.

Paul. Not to:

I am aſsignant in that, as you,
In ſoientitling me : and no leſſe honeſt
Then you are mad : which is enough, Ile warrant
(As this world goes) to paffe for honeſt.

Leo. Traitors;

Will you not puſh her out ? Give her the Baſtard,
Thou dorard, thou art woman-ty'r'd : unroofted
By thy dame Partlet heere. Take up the Baſtard,
Take't up, I ſay : giue't to the Croane.

Paul. For ever

Vnvenerable be thy hands, if thou
Tak't up the Princesſe, by that forced baſeneſſe
Which he ha's put upon't.

Leo. He dreads his Wife.

Paul. So I would you did': then 'twere paſt all doubt
You'l call your children, yours.

Leo. A neſt of Traitors.

Ant. I am none, by this good light.

Paul. Nor I : nor any

But one that's heere : and that's himſelfe: for he,

The

The Winters Tale.

The facred honor of himfelfe, his Queenes,
His hopefull Sonnes, his Babes, betrayes to flander,
Whofe fling is harper then the Swords; and will not
(For as the cafe now stands, it is a Curfe
He cannot be compell'd too't) once remove
The Root of his Opinion, which is rotten,
As ever Oake, or fone was found.

Leo. A Callat

Of boundleſſe tongue, who late hath beat her husband,
And now baits me: This Brat is none of mine,
It is the Iſſue of Polixenes.

Hence with it, and together with the Dam,
Commithem to the fire.

Paul. It is yours:

And might we lay th' old Proverb to your charge,
So like you, 'tis the worſe. Behold (my Lords)

Although the print be little, the whole Matter

And Coppy of the Father: (Eye, Noſe, Lippe,

The tricke of's Frowne, his Fore-head, nay, the Valley,
The pretty dimples of his Chin, and Cheeke; his Smiles:
The very Mold, and frame of hand, nayle, Finger.)

And thou good Goddeſſe Nature, which haſt made it
So like to him that got it, if thou haſt

The ordering of the Mind too', mongſt all Colours
No Yellow in't, leaſt ſhe ſuſpect, as he do's,
Her Children, not her Husbands.

Leo. A groſſe Hagge:

And Loſzell, thou art worthy to be hang'd,
That wift not ſtay her Tongue.

Antig. Hang all the Husbands

That cannot doe that Feat, you'll leave your ſelfe
Hardly one ſubſeſt.

Leo. Once more take her hence.

Paul. A moſt unworthy, and unnaturall Lord

Can doe no more.

Leo. Ile ha' thee burnt.

Paul. I cafe not:

It is an Heretique that makes the fire,
Not ſhe which burnes in't. Ile not call you Tyrant:

But this molt cruell ſuſage of your Quene

(Not able to produce more accufation

Then your owne weake-hind'd Fancy) ſomething ſavors
Of Tyranny, and will ignoble make you,
Yea, I scandalous to the World.

Leo. On your allegiance,

Out of the Chamber with her. Were I a Tyrant,
Where were her life? ſhe durſt not call me ſo,
If ſhe did know me one. Away with her.

Paul. I pray you do not pufh me, Ile be gone.

Looketo your Babe (my Lord) 'tis yours: love ſend her
A better guiding Spirit. What neede theſe hands?

You that are thus to tender o're his Follyes,
Will never do him good, not one of you.

So, to: Iarewell, we are gone.

Exit.

Leo. Thou (Traytor) haſt ſet on thy Wife to this.

My Child? away with't? even thou, that haſt
A heart ſo tender o're it, take it hence,

And ſee it instantly coniun'd with fire.

Even thou, and none but thou. Take it up ſtraight :
Within this hour bring me word 'tis done.
(And by good teſtimonie) or Ile ſeize thy life,

With what thou eſſe call'ſt thine: if thou refufe,
And wilt encounter with my Wrath, ſay ſo;

The Baſtard-braines with theſe my proper hands
Shall I daſh out: Goe take it to the fire,

For thou ſeet'ſt on thy Wife.

Antig. I did not, Sir:

Theſe Lords, my Noble Fellowes, if they pleafe,
Can cleare me in't.

Lords. We can; my Royall Liege,
He is not guiltie of her comming hither.

Leo. You're lyers all.

Lord. Befeech your Highneſſe, give us better credit:
We have alwayes truly ſerv'd you, and beſeech
So to eſteeme of us : and on our knees we begge,

(As recompence of our deare ſervices

Paſt, and to come) that you doe change this parpofe,
Which being ſo horrible, ſo bloody, muſt

Leade on to ſome foule Iſſue. We all kneele.

Leo. I am a Feather for each Wind that blows:
Shall I live on, to ſee this Baſtard kneele,

And call me Father? better burne it now,

Then carſe it then, But be it: let it live.

It ſhall not neyther. You Sir, come you hither :

You that have beene ſo tenderly ſoffious

With Lady Margerie, your Mid-wife there,

To ſave this Baſtards life; for 'tis a Baſtard,

So ſure as this Beard's gray. What will you adventure,
To ſave this Brats life?

Antig. Anything (my Lord)

That my ability may undergoe,

And Noblenſſe impoſe: at laſt thus much;

Ile pawne the little blood which I have left,

To ſave the infiocent: any thing poffible.

Leo. It ſhall be poffible: Sware by this Sword
Thou wilt performe my bidding.

Antig. I will (my Lord.)

Leo. Marke and performe it: ſeeſt thou? for the ſaile
Of any point in't, ſhall not onely be

Death to thy ſelfe, but to thy lewd-tongu'd Wife,
(Whom for this time we pardon) We enjoye thee,

As thou art Liege-man to us, that thou carry
This female Baſtard hence, and that thou beare it

To ſome remote and defaſt place, quite out

Of our Dominions; and that there thou leave it
(Without much mercy) to it owne protection,

And ſavour of the Climate : as by ſtrange fortune,
It came to us, I doe in Inſtice charge thee,

On thy Soules perill, and thy Bodies torture,

That thou commend it ſtrangely to ſome place,

Where Chance may nurſe, or end it: take it up.

Antig. I ſware to do this: though a prefent death
Had beene more mercifull. Come on (poore Babe)

Some powerful ſpirit inſtruct the Kytes and Ravens

To be thy Nurſes. Wolves and Bcares, they ſay,

(Caſting their favageneſſe aſide) have done

Like oſlices of pitty. Sir, be pofferous

In more then this deed do's require; and bleſſing

Aſainſt this Crueltie, fight on thy ſide

(Poore Thiag condemn'd to loſſe.)

Exit.

Leo. No: Ile not rare.

Anothers Iſſue.

Enter a Servant.

Seru. Pleaſe 'your Highneſſe, Poſſs

From theſe you ſent to th' Oracle, are come

An houre ſince: (Cleomines and Dion,

Being well arriv'd from Delphos, are both landed,

Haſting to th' Court.

Lord. So pleaſe you (Sir) their ſpeed

Hath beene beyond accompt.

Leo. Twentie three dayes

They have beene abſent: 'tis good ſpeed: fore-tells

The great Apollo suddenly will have

The

286

The Winters Tale.

The truth of this appeare : Prepare you Lords,
Summon a Seffion, that we may arraigne
Our moft difloyall Lady:for as she hath
Been publikely accus'd, so fhall she have
A juſt and open Triall. While ſhe lives,
My heart will be a burthen to me. Leave me,
And thinke upon my bidding.

Exeunt.

## Adus Tertius. Scena Prima.

### Enser Cleomines and Dion.

Cle. The Clymat's delicate, the Ayre moſt fweet,
Fertile the ſle, the Temple much ſurpaſſing
The common prayſe it beares.

Dion. I ſhall report,
For moſt it caught me, the Celeſtiall Habits,
(Me thinkes I to ſhould terme them) and the reverence
Of the grave Wearers. O, the Sacrifice.

How ceremonious, ſolme, and un-earthly
It was' th' Offring?

Cle. But of all, the burſt
And the eare-deaſſing Voyce o'th' Oracle,
Kin to Iones Thunder, to ſurpriz'd my Sence,
That I was nothing.

Dio. If th'event o'th' Iourney
Prove as ſuccesſefull to the Queene (O be't ſo)
As it hath beene to us, rare, pleafant, ſpeedie,
The time is worth the uſe on't.

Cleo. Great Apollo
Turne all to th' beſt: theſe Proclamations,
So forcing faults upon Hermione,
I little like.

Dio. The violent carriage of it
Will cleare, or end the Butineſſe, when the Oracle
(Thus by Apollo's great Divine ſeal'd up)
Shall the Contents diſcover: ſomething rare
Even then will ruff to knowledge. Goe: ſrefh Horſes,
And gracious be the iſſue.

Exeunt.

## Scæna Secunda.

Enter Leontes, Lords, Officers : Hermione (as to her
Triall) Lasses : Cleomines, Dion.

Leo. This Sefſions (to our great g:ieſe we pronounce)
Even pufhes 'gainſt our heart. The partie try'd,
The Daughter of a King, our Wife, and one
Of us too much belou'd. Let us be clear'd
Of being tyrannous, ſince we ſo openly
Proceed in Inſtice, which ſhall have due courſe,
Even to the Guilt, or the Purgation :
Produce the Prifoner.

Officer. It is his Highneſſe pleafure, that the Queene
Appeare in perſon, here in Court.
Silence. Enter

Leo. Read the Indiſtment.
Officer. Hermione, ſueene to the worthy Leontes, King of
Sicilia, thons art here accuſed and arraiged of High Treſan,
in committing Adultery with Polixenes King of Bohemia,

and confpiring with Camillo to take away the Life of our Sou-
vaigne Lord the King, thy reyall husband: the pretence whereof
being by circumſtance partly layd open, thou (Hermione) con-
trarie to the Faith and Allegeance of a true Subject, didst comm-
faſe and ayde them, for their better ſafetie, to ſiue away by
Night.

Her. Since what I am to ſay, muſt be but that
Which contradicts my Accufation, and
The teſtimonie on my part, no other
But what comes from my ſelſe, it ſhall ſcarce boot me
To ſay, Not guiltie : mine integritie

Being counted Falſchoo, ſhall (as I expreſſe it)
Be ſo receiv'd. But thus, it powres divine

Behold our humane Actions (as they do)
I doubt not then, but innocence ſhall make
Falſe Accufations bluſh, and Tyrannie

Tremble at Patience. You (my Lord) beſt know
(Whom leaſt will ſeeme to doe ſo) my paſt life
Hath beene as continent, as chaſte, as true,

As I am now unhappy; which is more
Then hiftorie can patternne, though devid's,

And play'd, to take Spectators. For behold me,
A Fellow of the Royall Bed, which owe
A Moitie of the THRONE : a great Kings Daughter,
The Mother to a hopefull Prince, here ſtanding
To prate and talke for Life, and Honor, fore
Who pleaſe to come and heare. For life, I prize it
As I weigh Grieſe (which I would ſpare :) For Honor,
'Tis a derivative from me to mine,
And only that I ſtand for. I appeal

To your owne Conſience (Sir) before Polixenes
Came to your Court, how I was in your grace,
Flow merited to be ſo : Since he came,
With what encounter ſo uncurrant, I

Have fly'n'd'tappeare thus; if one jot beyond
The bound of honor, or in act, or will
That way enclining, hardened be the hearts
Of all that heare me, and my neer'ft of Kin
Cry ſie upon my grave.

Leo. I ne're heard yet,
That any of theſe bolder Vices wanted
Leſe Impudence to gaine-fay what they did,
Then to performe it ſint.

Her. That's true enough,
Though 'tis a ſaying (Sir) not due to me.
Leo. You will not owne it.

Her. More then Miftreſſe of,
Which comes to me in name of fault, I muſt not
At all acknowledge. For Polixenes
(With whom I am accus'd) I doe conſeſſe
I'lov'd him, as in Honor he reqv'rd :
With ſuch a kind of Love, as might become
A Lady like me; with a Love, even ſuch,
So, and no other, as your ſelſe commanded :
Which, not to have done, I thinke had beene in me
Both Difobedience, and ingratitude
To you, and toward your friends, whoſe love had ſpoke,
Even ſince it could ſpeak, from an infant, freely,
That it was yours. Now for Conſpiracie,
I know not how it taſſes, though it be diſ'rd

To me to try how : All I know of it,
Is, that Camilla was an honest man;
And why he left your Court, the Gods themſelves
(Wotting no more then I) are ignorant.

Loe. You knew of his departure, as you know
What you have underta'n to doe in ſabſence.

Her. Sir.

Her.
you ſpea-
My Life
Which
Leo.

You ha
And I
(Thofe
Which
Thy Bra
No Fat
More cr
Shalt ſe
Looke f
Her.

The Bug
To me
The cro
I do
tell me
That I
But yet
(I priz
Which
Vpon
But wha
Tis Rig
Ido re
Lord.

Isaltog
(And in
Her.

Oh that
His Da
The flat
Of pit
Officer.

That you
Beene bo
This ſea
Of grea
You ha
Nor rea

Cleo.

Leo.

Officer,
a true S
truly beg
which is

Lord
Her.
Leo.
Offic.
Lo.

The Winters Tale.

287

Her. Sir,
you speak a Language that I vnderstand not:
My Life stands in the levell of your Dreames,
Which I lie lay downe.

Leo. Your Actions are my Dreames.

You had a Baſtard by Polixenes,
And I but dream'd it: As you were paſt all ſhame,
(Thofe of your Faſt are ſo) fo paſt all truth;
Which to deny, concerns more then auales: for as
Thy Braſt hath beene caſt out, like to it ſelſe,
No Father owning it (which is indeed
More criminall in thee, then it) fo thou
Shalt feele our Iuſtice ; in whole caſeit paſſage,
Looke for no leſſe then death.

Her. Sir, I pare your Threats:

The Bugge which you would fright me with, I feeke:
To me can Life be no commodity;
The crowne and comfort of my Life (your Fauor)
I doe giue loſs, for I doe feele it gone,
But know not how it went. My ſecond Ioy,
And firſt my Fruits of my body, from his preſence
I am bar'd, like one inſedious. My third comfort
(Star'd moſt unluckily) is from my braſt
(The innocent milke in it moſt innocent mouth)
Hal'd out to murther. My ſelſe on every Poſt
Proclaury'd a Strumpet : With immodest hatred
The Child-bed privilege deny'd, which longs
To Women of all fashion. Laffly, hurried
Here, to this place, 't h' open ayre before
I have got ſtrength of limit. Now (my Lieg e
Tell me what bleſſings I have here alive,
That I should feare to dye? Therefore proceed :
But yet heare this: miſtake me not: no Life,
(I prize it not a ſtraw) but for mine Honor,
Which I would free : if I ſhall be condemn'd
Upon ſurmizes (all proofes ſleeping eſſe,
But what your Icalouſes awake) I tell you
'Tis Rigor, and not Law. Your Honors all,
I doe reſerue me to the Oracle :

Apollo be my Iudge.

Lord. This your requeſt Enter Dion and Cleomines.

Isaltogther juſt: therefore bring forth
(And in Apollo's Name) his Oracle.

Her. The Emperor of Ruffia was my Father,
Oh that he were alive, and here beholding
His Daughters Tryall : that he did but tee
The flatneſſ of my miſerie ; yet with eyes
Of pitty, not Revenge.

Officer. You heere ſhall ſweare upon the Sword of Iuſtice,
That you (Cleomines and Dion) have
Beene both at Delphos, and from thence have brought
This ſea'd-up Oracle, by the Hand deliver'd
Of great Apollo's Prieft; and that ſince then,
You have not dar'd to breake the holy Seale,
Nor read the Secrets in't.

Cleo. Dio. All this we ſweare.

Leo. Breake up the Seales, and reade.

Officer. Hermione is caſt, Polixenes blameleſſe, Camillo
a true Subjeſt, Leontes a jealous Tyrant, his innocent Babe
truly begetten, and the King ſhall live without an Heire, if that
which is lost, be not found.

Lords. Now bleſſed be the great Apollo.

Her. Prayſed.

Leo. Haſt thou read truth?

Offic. I (my Lord) even so as it is here ſet downe.

Leo. There is no truth at all i' th' Oracle :

The Seſſions ſhall proceed : this is meere ſalſchood.

Ser. My Lord the King : the King ?

Leo. What ist he buſineſſe ?

Ser. O Sir I shall be hated to report it.

The Prince your Sonne, with meere conceit and ſeare
Of the Queeneſpeed, is gone.

Leo. How? gone?

Ser. Is dead.

Leo. Apollo's angry, and the heavens themſelves

Doe ſtrike at my Injuitce. How now there ?

Paul. This newes is mortall to the Queene: Look downe
And fee what death is doing.

Leo. Take her hence:

Her heart is but o're-charg'd: ſhe will recover.

I have too much beleev'd mine owne ſuſpition:

'Befeech you tenderly apply to her

Some remedies for life. Apollo pardon

My great prophanſe 'gainſt thine Oracle.

Ile reconcile me to Polixenes,

New wooe my Queene, recall the good Camillo

(Whom I proclaime a man of Truth, of Mercy)

For being tranſported by my Icalouſes

To bloody thoughts and to revenge, I chose

Camillo for the minifter, to poyſon

My friend Polixenes : which had beene done,

But that the good mind of Camillo tarded.

My ſwift command : though I with death, and with

Reward, did threaten and encourage him,

Not doing it, and being done : he (moſt humane,

And fill'd with Honor) to my Kingly Guelt

Vnclaſp'd mypraſtife, quit his fortunes here

(Which you knew great) and to the certaine hazard

Of all Uncertainties, himſelfe commended,

No richer then his Honor: How he glitters

Through my darke Ruſt and how his Pietie

Do's my deeds make the blacker ?

Paul. Woe the while :

O cut my Lace, leaſt my heart (cracking it)

Breake too.

Lord. What fit is this? good Lady?

Paul. What ſtudied torments (Tyrant) haſt for me?

What Wheeles? Racks? Fires? What flaying? boyling? Bur-

In Leads, or Oyles? What old, or new ſtorture (ning,

Muſt I receive? whoſe very word deſerves

To taſte of thy moſt worſt. Thy Tyranny

(Together working with thy Icalouſes,

Fancies too weake for boyes, too greene and idle

For Girles of Nine) O thinke what they have done,

And then run mad indeed : ſtarke-mad: for all

Thy by-gone fooleries were but ſpices for it.

That thou betrayed'ſt Polixenes, 'twas nothing,

(That did but ſhow thee, of a Foole, inconſtant,

And damnable ingratefull: ) Nor was't much.

Thou would'ſt haue poyſon'd good Camillo's Honor,

To have him kill a King : poore Trefpaffes,

More monſtrous standing by : whereof I reckon

The caſting forth to Crowes, the Baby-daughter,

To be or none, or little; though a Devill

Would have ſhed water out of fire, ere don't:

Nor is't direſtly layd to the death

Of the young Prince, whoſe honourable thoughts

(Thoughts high for one ſo tender) cleft the heart

That could conceive a groſſe and fooliſh Sire

Blemiſh'd his gracious Dam : this is not, no,

Layd to thy anſwer : but the laſt : O Lords,

When I have faſd, cry woe: the Queene, the Queene,

T he

The Winters Tale.

288

The sweet 'ft, deerer 'ft creature's dead: & vengeance for't
Not drop'd downe yet.

Lord. The higher powres forbid.

Pau. I fay she's dead: He fwear't. If word, nor oath
Prevaile not, go and fee: if you can bring

Tincture, or Inſtre in her lip, her eye
Heate outwardly, or breath within, Ile ſerve you
As I would do the Gods. But, O thou Tyrant,
Dot not repent theſe things, for they are heavier
Then all thy woes can ſtirre : therefore betake thee
To nothing but diſpaire. A thouſand knees,
Ten thouſand yeares together, naked, ſalting,
Vpon a barren Mountaine, and ſtill Winter
In ſtorme perpetual, could not move the Gods
To looke that way thou wer't.

Leo. Go on, go on:

Thou canſt not ſpeake too much, I have deferv'd
All tonges to talke their bitreſt.

Lord. Say no more,

How ere the buſineſſe goes you have made fault
I' th boldneſſe of your ſpeech

Pau. I am ſorry for't,

All faults I make, when I ſhall come to know them,
I do repent: Alas, I have ſhew'd too much
The rafhneſſe of a woman: he is toucht
To th' Noble heart. What's gone, and what's paſt hepe
Should be paſt greeſe: Do not receive affliction
At my petition, I beſech you, rather
Let me be puniſh'd, that have minded you
Of what you shouldoforge. Now (good my Liege)
Sir, Royall Sir, forgiue a fooliſh woman:
The love I bore your Queene (Lo, foole againe)
Ile ſpeake of her no more, nor of your Children:
Ile not remember you of my owne Lord,
(Who is loft too:) take your patience to you,
And Ile fay nothing,

Leo. Thou didst ſpeake but well,

When moſt the truth: which I receive much better,
Then to be pitied of thee. Prethee bring me
To the dead bodies of my Queene, and Sonne,
One grave ſhall be for both: Vpon them ſhall
The caufes of their death appeare (unto

Our ſhame perpetuall) once a day, Ile visit-
The Chappell where they lye, and teares ſhed there
Shall be my recreation. So long as Nature
Will beare up with this exercife, ſo long
I dayly vow to uſe it. Come, and leade me
To theſe ſorrowes.

Exeunt.

## Scena Tertia.

Enter Anisogonus, a Marriner, Babe, Sheepbeard, and Clowne.

Ant. Thou art perfect then, our ship hath toucht upon
The Defarts of Bohemia.

Mar. I (my Lord) and feare

We have Landed in ill time: the skies looke grimly,
And threaten preſent bluſters. In my conſience
The heavens with that we have in hand, are angry,
And frowne upon's.

Ant. Their ſacred wil's be done : get a boord,
Looke to thy barke, Ile not be long before

I call upon thee.

Mar. Make your beſte haſt, and go not
Too-farre i' th Land : 'tis like to be lowd weather,
Befides this place is famous for the Creatures
Of Prey, that kecpe upon't,

Anisg. Go thou away,
Ile follow inſantly.

Mar. I am glad at heart
To be ſo ridde o' th' buſineſſe.

Ant. Come, poore bab[e]e,

Exit

I have heard (but not bebeu'd) the Spirits o' th'dead
May walke againe: if ſuch thing be, thy Mother
Appear'd to me laſt night: for ne're was dreame
So like a waking. To me comes a creature,
Sometimes her head is on one ſide, ſome another,
I never faw a veſſell of like ſorrow

So fill'd, and ſo becoming : in pure white Robes
Like very ſanctity ſhe did approach
My Cabine where I lay: thrice bow'd before me,
And (gaping to begin ſome ſpeech) her eyes.

Became two ſponts; the ſurie ſpent, anon
Did this breake from her. Good Anisogonus,
Since Fate (againſt thy better diſpoſition)

Hath made thy perſon for the Thrower-out
Of my poore bab[e], according to thine oath,
Places remote enough are in Bohemia,

There weepe, and leave it crying : and for the bab[e]
Is counted loſt for ever. Perdita

I prethee call't : for this ungentle buſineſſe
Put on theſe, by my Lord, thou ne're ſhalt fee
Thy Wife Paulina more : and ſo, with ſtrickes
Thy melted into Ayre. Affrighted much,

I did in time collect my ſelfe, and thought
This was ſo, and no ſlumber : Dreames, are toyes,
Yet for this once, yea ſuperſitiously,

I will be ſquar'd by this. I do believe
Hermione hath ſuffer'd death, and that

Apollo would (this being indeed the ſiſſe
Of King Polexenus) it ſhould heere be laide
(Either for life, or death) upon the earth
Of it's right Father. Blaſſome, ſpeed thee well,
There lye, and there thy character : there theſe,
Which may if Fortune pleate, both breed thee (pretty)
And ſtill reſt thine. The ſtorme beginnes, poore wretch,
That for thy mothers fault, art expos'd

To loſſe, and what may follow. Weepe I cannot,
But my heart bleedes : and moſt accuſt am I
To be by oath enjoyn'd to this. Farewell,
The day frownes more and more : thou'rt like to have
A lullable too rough : I never faw

The heavens ſo dim, by day. A favage clamor?
Well may I get a boord: This is the Chace,
heard.

I am gone for ever. Exit purſued by a Bear. Enter a Shep.
Shep. I would there were no age betweene ten and
three and twentie, or that youth would ſleepe out the reſt:
for there is nothing (in the betweene) but getting wen-
ches with childe, wronging the Ancientry, ſtealing,
fighting, harke you now : would any but theſe boylde-
braines of nineſtene, and two and twentie hunt this wea-
ther ? They have ſcarr'd away two of my beſt Sheepe,
which I feare the Wolfe will ſooner finde then the Maj-
ſter; if any where I have them, 'tis by the ſea ſide, bron-
zing of luy. Good-lucke (and 't be the will) what have
we heere? Mercy on's, a Barne? A very pretty barne; A
boy, or a Chide I wonder ? (A pretty one, a very prettie
one) ſure ſome ſcape : Though I am not bookiſh, yet I can

can

The Winters Tale.

289

can reade Waiting-Gentlewoman in the fcape: this has
beene fome flaire-worke, fome Trunke-worke, fome be-
hind-doore worke: they were warmer that got this,
then the poore thing is here. Ile take it up for pity, yet
Ile tarry til my fonne come: he hallow'd but even now.
Whoa-ho-hoa.

Enter Clowne.

Clo. Hilloa, loa.

Shep. What ? art so neere ? If thou'lt fee a thing to
take on, when thou art dead and rotten, come hither:
what ay ! ? it thou, man ?

Clo. I have feene two fuch fights, by Sea and by Land:
but I am not to fay it is a Sea, for it is now the skye, be-
twixt the Firmament and it, you cannot thrust a bodkins
point.

Shep. Why boy, how is it ?

Clo. I would you did but fee how it chafes, how it ra-
ges, how it takes up the fhore, but that's not to the point:
Oh, the moft pitteous cry of the poore foules, sometimes
to fee'em, and not to fee'em; Now the Shippe boaring
the Moone with her maine Maſt, and anon ſallowed
with yef and froth, as you'd thrust a Corke into a hogſ-
head. And then for the Land-fervice, to fee how the
Beare tore out his shoulder bone, how he cride to me
for helpe, and faid his name was Antigonus a Nobleman:
But to make an end of the Ship, to fee how the Sea flap-
dragon'd it: but firſt, how the poore foules roared, and
the ſea mock'd them: and how the poore Gentleman roa-
red, and the Beare mock'd him, both roaring lowlder
then the ſea, or weather.

Shep. Name of mercy; when was this boy ?

Clo. Now, now : I have not wink'd since I faw theſe
fights : the men are not yet cold under water, nor the
Beare halſe dia'd on the Gentleman: he's at it now.

Shep. Would I had beene by, to have help'd the old man.

Clo. I would you had beene by the ſhip ſide, to have
help'd her there your charity would have lack'd footing.

Shep. Heavy matters, heavy matters : but looke thee
here boy. Now bleſſe thy ſelfe; thou met'ſt with things
dying, I with things new borne. Here's a fight for thee :
Looke thee, a bearing-cloath for a Squires child: looke
thee heere, take up, take up (Boy:) open't: ſo, let's fee, it
was told me I should be rich by the Fairies. This is fome
Changeling: open't: what's within boy ?

Clo. You're a mad old man ; If the finnes of your
youthare forgiven you, you're well to live. Gold, all
Gold.

Shep. This is Faicy Gold boy, and 'twill prove ſo: up
with't, kéepe it cloſe: home, home, the next way. We
are lincy (boy) and to be ſull requires nothing but
ſecrecy. Let my ſhcepe goe: Come (good boy) the next
way home.

Clo. Goe you the next way with your Findings. Ile go
fee if the Beare be gone from the Gentleman, and how
much he hath eaten: they are never curſt but when they
are hungry: if there be any of him left, Ile bury it.

Shep. That's a good deed: if thou mayeſt diſerne by
that which is left of him, what he is, fetch me to th' flight
of him.

Clo. 'Marry will I: and you ſhall helpe to put him i'th'
ground,

Shep. 'Tis a lucky day, boy, and we'll doe good deeds
on't.

Exeunt

Actus Quartus, Scena Prima.

Enter Time, the Chorus.

Tim. I that pleafe fome, try all: both joy and terror
Of good, and bad: that makes, and unfolds error,
Now take upon me (in the name of Time)
To uſe my wings: Impure it not a crime
To me, or my Iwift paſſage, that I ſlide
Ore fixteene yeeres, and leave the growth untride
Of that wide gap, ſince it is in my powre
To orethrow Law, and in one ſelfe-borne houre
To plant, and ore-whelme Cuiteome. Let me paffe
The fame I am, ere ancient it Order was,
Or what is now receu'd, I wittneſſe to
The times that brought them in, ſo ſhall I doe
To th'freeſheſt things now reigning, and make ſtale
The gliftering of this preſent, as in my Tale
Now feemes to it: your patience this allowing,
I turne my glaſſe, and give my Scene and growing
As you had flept betweene: Leontes leav-ing
Th' effects of his fond jeaſonſes, ſo greening
That he fluts up himſelfe, Imagine me
(Gentle Spectators) that I now may be
In faire Bohemia, and remember well,
I mention here a ſonne o' th' Kings, which Florizell
I now name to you: and with ſpeed ſo pace
To ſpeak of Perdita, now growne in grace
Equal with wond'ring. What of her infues
Hift not propheſe: but let Times newes (daughter
Be knowne when 'tis brought forth. A ſhepheards
And what to her adheres, which followes after,
Is th'argument of Time: of this allow,
If ever you have ſpent time worſe, ere now :
If never, yet that Time himſelfe doth ſay,
He wifhes careneſtly, you never may.

Exit.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Polixenes, and Camillo.

Pol. I pray thee (good Camillo) be no more importu-
nate: :tis a ſickeneſſe denying thee any thing: a death to
grant this.

Cam. It is fifteenth yeeres ſince I ſaw my Countrey:
though I have (for the moſt part) beene ayred abroad, I
defire to lay my bones there. Befides, the penitent King
(my Maſter) hath ſent for me, to whose feeling forrowes
I might be fome allay (or I orewene to thinke ſo) which
is another ſpurre to my departure.

Pol. As thou low'it me (Camillo) wipe not out the reft
of thy ſervices, by leaving me now: the need I have of
thee, thine owne goodneſſe hath made: better not to
have had thee, then thus to want thee, thou having made
me Buſineſſes, (which none (without thee) can ſuſſic-
iently manage) muſt either ſay to execute them thy ſelfe,
or take away with thee the very ſervices thou haſt done:
which if I have not enough confidered (as too much I
cannot) to be more thankefull to thee, ſhall be my ſtu-
dy, and my profit therein, the heaping friendſhipps.
Of that fatal Countrey Sicilia, prethee ſpeak no more,
whose very naming, puniſhes me with the remembrance

B b

of

The Winters Tale.

of that penitent (as thou calst him) and reconciled King
my brother, whole lofe of his moft precious Queene
and Children, are even now to bee a-fresh lamented.
Say to me, when faw'ft thou the Prince Florizell my fon?
Kings are no leffe unhappy, their ilfue not being gra-
cious, then they are in loofing them, when they have ap-
proved their Vertues.

Cam. Sir, it is three dayes since I saw the Prince: what his happier affayres may be, are to me unknowne: but I have (miffingly) noted, he is of late much retyred from Court, and is leffe frequent to his Princely exercices then formerly he hath appeared.

Pol. I have confidered so much (Camillo) and with
fome care, so farre, that I have eyes under my ſervice,
which looke upon his removedneſſe: from whom I have
this Intelligence, that he is ſeldome from the houſe of a
moſt homely ſhepheardia man (they ſay) that from very
nothing, and beyond the imagination of his neighbors,
is growne into an unſpeakable eſtate.

Cam. I have heard (Sir) of fuch a man, who hath a
daughter of moſt rare note : the report of her is extended
more, then can be thought to begin from fuch a cottage.

Pol. That's likewife part of my Intelligence: but (I
fear) the Angle that pluckes our fonne thither. Thou
fhalt accompany us to the place, where we will (not ap-
pearing what we are) have fome queſtion with the ſhep-
heard; from whole ſimplicity, I thinke it not uneaſe to
get the cauſe of my fonnes ſorrel thither. Prethee be my
prefent partner in this buſines, and lay aſide the thoughts
of Sicilia,

Cam. I willingly obey your command.

Pol. My beſt Camillo, we muſt diſguſe our ſelves. Exit,

## Scena Tortia.

Enter Autolicus ſinging.

When Daffadils begin to pere,
With heigh the Doxy over the dale,
Why then comes in the sweet o' the yeere.
For the red blood raignes in the winters pale.

The white sheete bleaching on the hedge,
With bey the sweet birds, O how they ſing:
Dots fet my pugging tooth an edge,
For a quart of Ale is a dish for a King.

The Larke, that tirra-Lyra chameaux,
With heigh, with heigh the Thrush and the Lay :
Are Summer ſongs for me and my Aunts
While we lye tumbling in the hay.

I have feru'd Prince Florizell, and in my time wore three
pile, but now I am out of ſervice.

But ſhall I goe mourne for that (my deere)
the pale Moone ſhines by night :
And when I wander here, and there
I then doe moſt goe right.

If Tinkers may have leave to live,
and beare the Sow-skin Bowſet,
Then my account I well may give,
and in the Stockes avouch-it.

My Trafficke is fleets: when the Kite builds, looke to
leſſer Linnen. My Father nam'd me Autolicus, who be-

ing (as I am) lytter'd under Mercury, was likewife a
inapper-up of incorfidered trifles: With Dye and drab,
I purchas'd Caparifon, and my Revennew is the filly
Cleate. Gallowes, and Knocke, are too-powerfull on
the Highway. Beating and hanging are terrors to me:
For the life to come, I fleep out the thought of it. A
prize, a prize.

Enter Clowne.

Clo. Let me fee, every Leaven-weather toddes, every
told yeeldes pound and odde ſhilling : fifteenth hundred
fhorne, what comes the wooll too?

Aut. If the ſprinde hold, the Cocke's mine.

Clo. I cannot do't without Compters. Let me fee,
what am I to buy for our Sheep-shearing-Feaſt? Three
pound of Sugar, ſue pound of Currence, Rice: What
will this filter of mine do with Rice? But my father hath
made her Miftris of the Feaſt, and ſhe layes it on. ſhe
hath made me ſoure and twenty Note-gayes for the ſhe-
ers (three-man ſong-men, all, and very good ones) but
they are moſt of them Mænes and Baſes; but one Furi-
tan amangſt them, and he ſings Pſalmesto horne-pipes.
I muſt have Saſſron to colour the Warden Pies, Mace:
Dates, none: that's out of my note: Nutmegges, ſeven;
a Race or two of Ginger, but that I may begge: ſoure
pound of Prewyſt, and as many of Reyſons o'th' Sunne.

Aut. Oh, that ever I was borne.

Clo. I' th' name of me.

Aut. Oh helpe me, helpe me: plucke but off the
ragges: and then, death, death.

Clo. Alacke poore ſoule, then haſt need of more ragges
to lay on thee, rather then have theſe off.

Aut. Oh fir, the loathnomneſſe of them offends me,
more then the ſtripes I have received, which are mighty
ones and millions.

Clo. Alas poore man, a million of beating may come
to a great matter.

Aut. I am rob'd fir, and beaten: my money, and ap-
parrell tane from me, and theſe deteſtable things put up-
on me.

Clo. What, by a horſe-man, or a foot-man?

Aut. A footman (ſweet fir) a footman.

Clo. Indeed, he ſhould be a footman, by the garments
he has left with thee: if this be a horſemans Coate, it
hath ſeene very hot ſervice. Lend me thy hand, Ile helpe
thee. Comelend me thy hand.

Aut. Oh good fir, tenderly, oh.

Clo. Alas poore ſoule.

Aut. Oh good fir, softſtly, good fir: I feare (fir) my
shoulder-blade is out.

Clo. How now? Canſt ſtand?

Aut. Softly, deere fir: good fir, softſt: you ha done
me a charitable office.

Clo. Doff't lacke any mony? I have a little mony for
thee.

Aut. No, good ſweet fir: no, I beſeech you fir: I
have a Kinaſman not paſt three quarters of a mile hence,
unto whom I was going: I ſhall there have money, or
any thing I want: Offer me no money I pray you, that
killes my heart.

Clo. What manner of Fellow was he that robbed
you?

Aut. A fellow (Sir) that I have knowne to goe about
with Troll-my-dames: I knew him him oncea ſervant
of the Prince: I cannot tell good fir, for which of his
Vertues it was, but he was certainly Whipt out of the
Court.

Clo.

The Winters Tale.

291

Clo. His vices you would fay : there's no vertue whipt
out of the Court : they cherish it to make it fay there;
and yet it will no more but abide.

Aut. Vices I once would fay (Sir.) I know this man well,
he hath beene ſince an Ape-bearer, then a Proceſſe-ferver
(a Baylife) then he compaſt a Motion of the Prodigall
fonne, and married a Tinkers wife, within a Mile where
my Land and living lyes; and (having flowne over ma-
ny knavish proſſions) he ſetled only in Rogue: ſome call
him Autolicus.

Clo. Out upon him : Prig , for my life Prig: he haunts
Wakes, Faires, and Bearc-baitings

Aut. Very true fir : he fir he : that's the Rogue that
put me into this apparrell.

Clo. Not a more cowardly Rogue in all Bohemia ; If
you had but look'd bigge, and ſpit at him, hec'd have
runne.

Aut. I muſt confefſe to you (fir) I am no fighter : I am
ſalſe of heart that way, and that he knew I warrant him.

Clo. How doe you now ?

Aut. Sweet Sir, much better then I was : I can ſtand,
and walke : I will even take my leave of you, and pace
ſoftly towards my Kinſmans.

Clo. Shall I bring thee on the way ?

Aut. No, good fac'd fir, no ſweet fir.

Clo. Then farewell, I muſt goe to buy Spices for our
ſheepe-ſ hearing.
Exit.

Aut. Proſper you ſweet fir. Your purſe is not hot e-
nough to purchase your Spice : Ile be with you at your
ſheepe-ſ hearing too : If I make not this Cheat bring out
another, and the sheerers prove ſheepe, let me be unrold,
and my name put in the booke of Vertue.

Song. Log-on, log-on, the foot-path way,
And merrily bent the Stile-a.
A merry heart goes all the day,
Your sad tyres in a Mile-a.
Exit.

## Scæna Quarta.

Enter Florizell, Perdita, Shepherd, Clowne, Polixenes, Camillo, Mopfa, Dorcas, Servants, Autolicus.

Ho. Theſe your unuſtall weeds, to each part of you
Do's give a life : no Shepherdeſſe, but Flora

Peering in Aprils front. This your ſheepe-ſ hearing,
Is as a merry meeting of the petty gods,
And you the Queene on't.

Per. Sir : my gracious Lord,
To hide at your extreames, it not becomes me :
(Oh pardon, that I name them:) your high ſelfe
The gracious marke o' th' Land, you have obſcur'd
With a Swaines wearing : and me (poore lowly Maide)
Moft goddeſſe-like prank'd up : But that our Feaſts
In every Maſſe, have ſolly ; and the Feeders
Dilgetſe it witha Cuſtome, I should bluſh
To ſee you ſo attyr'd: ſworne I thinke,
To ſhow me ſelfe a glaſſe.

Fla. I bleſſe the time

When my good Falcon, made her flight a-croſſe
Thy fathers ground.

Per. Now love affaord you caufe:
To me the difference forges bread (your Greatneſſe

Hath not beene us'd to feare:) even now I tremble
To thinke your Father, by ſome accident

Should pafſe this way, as you did : Oh the Fates,
How would he looke, to fee his worke, fo noble,
Vildely bound up ? What would he ſay ? Or how
Should I (in the ſe my borrowed Flaunts) behold
The ſternneſſe of his prefence ?

Fla. Apprehend

Nothing but jolijty : the Goddes themſelves
(Humbling their Deities to love) have taken
The ſhapes of Beaſts upon them. Iupiter,
Became a Bull, and bellow'd : the greene Neptune
A Ram, and bleated : and the Fire-roab'd-God
Golden Apollo, a poore humble Swaine,
As I ſeeme now. Their transformations,
Were never for a peecce of beauty, rarer,
Nor in a way fo chafte : ſince my deſires
Runne not before mine honor : nor my Luſts'
Burne hotter then my Faith.

Perd. O but deere fir,

Yur refolution cannot hold, when 'tis
Oppos'd (as it muſt be) by th'power of the King :
One of theſe two muſt be neceſſities,

Which then will ſpeake, that you muſt change this pur-
Or I my life.
(pofe,

Fla. Thou deereft Perdita,

With theſe forc'd thoughts, I prethee darken not
The Mirth o' th' Feaſt : Or Ile be thine (my Faire)
Or not my Fathers. For I cannot be

Mine owne, nor any thing to any, if

I be not thine. To this I am moſt conſtant,
Though definly ſay no. Be merry (Gentle)

Strangle ſuch thoughts as theſe, with any thing

That you behold the while. Your gueſts are comming :

Lift up your countenance, as it were the day

Of celebration of that nuptiall, which

We two have ſworne ſhall come.

Perd. O Lady Fortune,

Stand you auſpicious.

Fla. See, your Gueſts approach,

Addreſſe your ſelfe to entertain them ſprightly,
And let's be red with mirth.

Shep. Eye (daughter) when my old wife liv'd : upon
This day, ſhe was both Pantler, Butler, Cooke,
Both Dame and Servant : Welcom'd all: ſerv'd all,
Would ſing her ſong, and dance her turne : now heere
At upper end o' th' Table; now, I' th middle :

On his shoulder, and his : her face o' fire
With labour, and the thing ſhe tooke to quench it

She would to each one ſip. You are retyred,

As if you were a ſeaſted one: and not

The Hoftedſe of the meeting: Pray you bid

Theſe unknowne friends to's welcome, for it is

A way to make us better Friends, more knowne.

Come, quench your bluſhes, and prefent your ſelfe

That which you are, Miftris o' th' Feaſt. Come on,

And bid us welcome to your ſheepe-ſ hearing,

As your good flocke ſha'l proſper.

Perd. Sir, welcome :

It is my Fathers will, I should take on me

The Hoftedſe ſhip o' th' day, your're welcome fir

Give me thofe Flowres there (Dorcas.) Reverend Sirs,

For you, there's Roſemary, and Rue, theſe keepe

Seeming, and favour all the Winter long :

Grace, and Remembrance be to you both,

And welcome to our Shearing.

Bb 2

Pal.

The Winters Tale.

292

Pol. Shepherdess,
(A faire one are you :) well you fit our ages
With flowres of Winter,

Perd. Sir, the yeare growing ancient,
Not yet on funmers death, nor on the birth
Of trembling winter, the fayreft flowres o'th feafon
Are our Carnations, and freak'd Gilly-vors,
(Which fome call Natures baftards) of that kind
Our rufticke Garden's barren, and I care not
To get flips of them.

Pol. Wherefore (gentle Maiden)
Doe you negleft them.

Perd. For I have heard it faide,
There is an Art, which in their pidenefle ſhares
With great creating-Nature.

Pol. Say there be :
Yet Nature is made better by no meane,
But Nature makes that Meane : fo over that Art,
(Which you fay addes to Nature) is an Art
That Nature makes : you fee (fweet Maid) we marry
A gentler Sien, to the wildeft Stocke,
And make conceive a barke of bafer kind
By bud of Nobler race. This is an Art
Which do's mend Nature : change it rather, but
The Art it ſelfe, is Nature.

Per. So it is.

Pol. Then make your Garden rich in Gilly'vors,
And doe not call them baftards.

Per. Ile not put

The Dible in earth, to fet one flip of them :
No more then were I painted, I would with
This youth ſhould fay'twer well : and onely therefore
Deſare to breed by me. Here's flowres for you :
Hot Lavender, Mints, Savory, Mariorum,
The Mary-gold, that goes to bed with 'Sun,
And with him rifes, weeping : Thefeare flowres
Of middle ſummer, and I thinke they are given
To men of middleage. Y'are very welcome.

Cam. I should leave grazing, were I of your flocke,
And onely live by gazing.

P. er. Out alas:

You'd be ſole, that bnaſts of January (Friend,
Would blow you through and through. Now (my fairſt
I would I had ſome Flowres o'th Spring, that might
Become your time of day : and yours, and yours,
That weare upon your Virgin-branches yet
Your Maiden-heads growing : O Proſerpinæ,
For the Flowers now, that (frighted) thou let't fall
From Difſes Waggon : Daffadils,
That come before the Swallow darſes, and take
The windes of March with beauty : Violets (dim,
But fweeter then the lids of Ianò's eyes,
Or Cytherea's breath) pale Prime-roles,
That dye unmarried, ere they can behold
Bright Phœbus in his ſtrength (a Malady
Moft incident to Maids :) bold Oxlips, and
The Crowne Imperiall : Lillies of all kinds,
(The flowre-de-Luce being one.) O, theſe Ilacke,
To make you Garlands of) and my fweet friend,
To ſtrew him o're, and ore.

Flo. What? like a Coarſe?

Per. No, like a banke, for Love to lye, and play on :
Not like a Coarſe : or if: not to be buried,
But quicke, and in mine armes. Come, take your flouers,
Me thinkes I play as I have feene them doe
In Whitfon-Pafterals : Sure this Robe of mine

Do's change my diſpoſition :

Flo. What you doe,
Still betters what is done. When you ſpeake (fweet)
I'd have you doe it ever : When you ſing,
I'd have you buy, and fell ſo : fo give Almes,
Pray ſo : and for the ord'ring your Affayres,
To fing them too. When you doe dance, I wifh you
A wave o'th Sea, that you might ever doe
Nothing but that : move ſill, ſill ſo :
And owne no other Function. Each your doing,
(So ſingular, in each particular)
Crownes what you are doing, in the preſent deeds,
That all your Actes, are Queens.

Perd. O Doricles,

Your praifes are too large : but that your youth
And the true blood which peepes fairely through't,
Doe plainly give you out an unſtain'd Shepherd
With wifedome, I might feare (my Doricles)
You woo'd me the falſe way.

Flo. I thinke you have
As little skill to feare, as I have purpofe
To put you't. But come, our dance I pray,
Your hand (my Perdita :) ſo Turtles paire
That never meane to part.

Perd. Ile ſwere for 'em,

Pol. This is the prettiest Low-borne Laffe, that ever
Ran on the greene-ford : Nothing ſhe do's, or feemes
But ſmacks of ſomething greater then her ſelfe,
Too Noble for this place.

Cam. He tels her ſomething
That makes her blood looke on't: Good footh ſhe is
The Queene of Curds and Creame.

Clo. Come on : ſtrike up.

Daf. Mop(a muſt be your Miftris : marry Garlicke to
mend her kifling with.

Mop. Now in good time,

Clo. Not a word, a word, I ſtand upon our manners,
Come, ſtrike up.

Heere a Daunce of Sleepbeards and
Shephearddeſſes.

Pol. Pray good Shephard, what faire Swaine is this,
Which dances with your daughter ?

Shep. They call him Doricles, and boafhs himſelfe
To have a worthy Feeding; but I have it
Vpon his owne report, and I believee it :
He looks like footh : he fayes he loves my daughter,
I thinke ſo too; for never gaz'd the Moone
Vpon the water, as he'll ſtand and reade
As'twere my daughters eyes : and to be plaine,
I thinke there is not halſe a kiffle to choofe
Who loves another beſt.

Pol. She dances feαtly.

Shep. So ſhe do's any thing, though I report it
That ſhould be ſilent : if yong Doricles
Doe light upon her, ſhe ſhall bring him that
Which he not dreames of.

Enter Servant.

Ser. O Maſter : if you did but heare the Pedler at the
door, you would never dance againe after; a Tabor and
Pipe : no, the Bag-pipe could not move you : he ſings
feverall Tunes, ſaſter then you'll tell money : he utters
them as he had eaten ballads, and all mens eares grew to
his Tunes.

Clo. He could never come better : he ſhall come in:
I love a ballad but even too well, if it be doleful matter
merrily ſet downe : or a very pleafant thing indeed, and
fung lamentably.

Ser.

The Winters Tale.

She shall be habited, as it becomes
The partner of your Bed. Methinks I see
Leontes opening his free Armes, and weeping
His Welcomes forth: asks thee there Sonne forgiveneffle,
As 'twere i'th' Fathers perfon: kiffes the hands
Of your fresh Princeffe; ore and ore divides him,
'Twixt his unkindneffle, and his kindneffle: th'one
He chides to Hell, and bids the other grow
After then Thought, or Time.

Flor. Worthy Camillo,

What colour for my Vifitation, shall I
Hold up before him?

Cam. Sent by the King your father

To greet him, and to give him comforts. Sir,
The manner of your bearing towards him, with
What you (as from your Father) shall deliver,
Things knowne betwixt us three, Ile write you downe,
The which shall point you forth at every fitting
What you muft fay, that he shall not perceive,
But that you have your fathers Bofome there,
And fpeake his very Heart.

Flor. I am bound to you :

There is fome fappe in this.

Cam. A Courfe more promising,

Then a wild dedication of your felves
To unpath'd Waters, undream'd Shores; moft certaine,
To Miferies enough: no hope to helpe you,
But as you shake off one, to take another :
Nothing fo certaine, as your Anchors, who
Doe their belt office, if they can but ſtay you,
Where you'l be loth to be: befides you know,
Proſperitie's the very bond of Love,
Whofe fresh complexion, and whole heart together,
Affliction alters.

Per. One of theſe is true :

I thiake Affliction may ſubdue the Cheeke,
But not take-in the Mind,

Cam. Yea? fay you to?

There shall not, at your fathers honſe, theſe ſeven yeeres
Be borne another ſinch,

Flor. My good Camillo,

She's as forward, of her Breeding, as
She is i'th' reare 'our Birth.

Cam. I cannot fay, 'tis pitty

She lackes inſtructions, for ſhe feemes a Miftreſſe
To moſt that teach.

Per. Your pardon Sir, for this.

Ile blush you Thankes.

Flor. My prettie Perdita.

But O, the Thornes we fand upon : (Camillo)

Preferver of my Father, now of me,
The Medicine of our Honſe: how ſhall we doe?
Weare not furniſh'd like Bohemia's Sonne,
Nor ſhall appeare in Sicily.

Cam. My Lord,

Feare none of this: I thinke you know my fortunes
Doe all I ye there: it ſhall be to my care,

To have you royally appointed, as if
The Scene yov play, were mine. For inſtance Sir,
That you may know you ſhall not want: one word.

Enter Antolicus.

Aut. Ha ha, what a foole Honefly is ? and Truſt (his
ſworne brother) a very ſimple Gentleman. I have ſold
all my Trompery : not a counterfeit Stone, not a Ribbon,
Glafſe, Pomander, Browch, Table-booke, Ballad, Knife,
Tape, Glove, Shooe-tye, Bracelet, Horne-Ring, to keepe

my Paſſe from faſtning: they throng who ſhould buy
firſt, as if my Trinkets had beene hallowed, and brought
a benediction to the buyer: by which meanes, I ſaw
whofe Purſe was beſt in Picture; and what I ſaw, to my
good ſle, I remembred. My Clowne (who wants but
fomething to be a reaſonable man) grew ſo in love with
the Wenches ſong, that he would not ſlirre his Pettytoes
till he had both Tune and Words, which ſo drew the
reſt of the Heard to me, that all their other ſences ſucke
in Eares: you might have pinch'd a Placket, it was ſence-
ſſe, 'twas nothing to guelſ a Cod-pecce of a Purſe: I
would have fill'd Keyes of that hung in Chaynes:
no hearing, no feeling, but my Sirs ſong, and admiring
the nothing of it. So that in this time of Lethargy, I
pilck'd and cut moſt of their Fefitall Purſes: And had
not the old-man come in with a W hoo-bub againſt his
Daughter, and the Kings Sonne, and fear'd my Chowghes
from the Chaffe, I had not left a Purſe alive in the whole
Army.

Cam. Nay, but my Letters by this meanes being there
So ſoone as you arrive, ſhall cleare that doubt.

Flor. And thofe that you'll procure from King Leontes?

Cam. Shall farſisſe your Father.

Perd. Happy be you :

All that you ſpake, ſhewes faire.

Cam. Who have we here ?

We'll make an Inſtrument of this: omit

Nothing may give us ayde.

Aut. If they have over-heard me now: why hanging,

Cam. How now (good Fellow)

Why ſhak it thou to? Feare not (man)

Here's no harme intended to thee,

Aut. I am a poore fellow, Sir.

Cam. Why, be ſo ſtill: here's no body will ſteaſe that
from thee: yet for the out-fide of thy poverty, we muſt
make an exchange; therefore diſcaſe thee infantly (thou
muſt thinke there's a neceſſity in't) and change garments
with this Gentleman: I though the penny-w orth (on his
fide) be the worſt, yet hold thee, there's ſome boor.

Aut. I am a poore Fellow, Sir: (I know ye well enough.)

Cam. Nay prethee diſpatch: the Gentleman is halſe
ſled already.

Aut. Are you in earneſt, Sir ? (I ſmell the tricke on't.)

Flor. Diſpatch, I prethee.

Aut. Indeed I have had carneſt, but I cannot with
conſience take it.

Cam. Unbuckle, unbuckle.

Fortunate Miftreſſe (let my prophecy
Come home to ye:) you muſt retire your ſelfe
Into ſome Covert; take your ſweet-hearts Hat
And plucke it ore your Browes, mufſule your face,
Difmantle you, and (as you can) diſliken
The truth of your owne ſeeming, that you may
(For I doe ſcare eyes over) to Ship-boord
Get undefſcry'd.

Per. I fee the Play ſolyes,

That I muſt beare a part.

Cam. No remedy :

Have you done there?

Flor. Should I now meet my Father,
He would not call me Sonne.

Cam. Nay, you ſhall have no Hat :

Come Lady, come: Farewell (my friend.)

Aut. Adieu, Sir.

Flor. O Perdita: what have we twaine forgot?

Pray

The Winters Tale.

297

'Pray you a word.

Cam. What I do next, shall be to tell the King
Of this escape, and whither they are bound;
Wherein, my hope is, I shall so prevail,
To force him after : in whose company
I shall re-view Sicilia; for whole fight,
I have a Womans Longing.

Fla. Fortune speed us :

Thus we set on (Camillo) to th'self.

Cam. The twifter speed, the better.

Exit.

Aut. I underland the bufineſſe, I heare it: to have an
open ear, a quicke eye, and a nimble hand, is neceſſary for
a Cut-purſe; a good Noſe is requisite alſo, to ſmell out
worke for th'other Sences. I fee this is the time that the
unjuſt man doth thrive. What an exchange had this been,
without boot? What a boot is here, with this exchange,
Sure the gods doe this yeere connive at us, and we may
doe any thing extempore. The Prince himſelfe is about
a peecce of iniquity (ſtealing away from his Father, with
his Clog at his heeles:) if I thought it were a peecce of
honeyſt to acquaint the King withall, I would not do't :
I hold it the more knavery to conceale it; and therein am
I conſtant to my Proſeſſion.

Enter Clowne, and Shepherd.

Aſide, aſide, here is more matter for a hot braine: Every
Lanes end, every Shop, Church, Seſſion, Hanging, yeelds
a careful man worke.

Clow. See, fee : what a man you are now ? there is no
other way, but to tell the King he's a Changeling, and
none of your fleſh and blood.

Shep. Nay, but heare me.

Clow. Nay; but heare me.

Shep. Goe to then.

Clow. She being none of your fleſh and blood, your
fleſh and blood ha's not offended the King, and fo your
fleſh and blood is not to be puniſh'd by him. Shew thofe
things you found about her (thofe ſecret things, all but
what the hee's with her:) This being done, let the Law goe
whiſſle: I warrant you.

Shep. I will tell the King all, every word, yea, and his
Sonnes pranks too; who, I may ſay, is no honeſt man,
neither to his Father, nor to me, to goe about to make me
the Kings Brother in Law.

Clow. Indeed Brother in Law was the fartheſſ off you
could have beene to him, and then your Blood had beene
the deerer, by I know how much an ounce.

Aut. Very wifely (Puppies.)

Shep. Wel: let us to the King : there is that in this
Fartheſſ, will make him scratch his Beard.

Aut. I know not what impediment this Complaint may
be to the flight of my Maſter.

Clo. 'Pray heartily he be at Pallace.

Aut. Though I am not naturally honeſt, I am to ſome-
times by chance : Let me pocket up my Pedlers excre-
ment. How now (Ruſtiques) whither are you bound ?

Shep. Toth'Pallace (and it like your Worſhip.)

Aut. Your Affairs there? what ? with whom ? the
Condition of that Fartheſt ? the place of your dwelling ?
your names? your ages ? of what having ? breeding, and
any thing that is fitting to be knowne, diſcover ?

Clo. We are but plaine ſellowes, Sir.

Aut. A Lye: you are rough, and hayrie: Let me have
no lying; it becomes none but Tradef-men, and they of-
ten give us (Souldiers) the Lye, but we pay them for it
with ſtamped Coyne, not ſlapping Steele, therefore they
doe not give us the Lye.

Clo. Your Worſhip had like to have given us one, if
you had not taken your ſelfe with the manner.

Shep. Are you a Courtier, and't like you Sir?

Aut. Whether it like me, or no, I am a Courtier. Seeſt
thou not the ayre of the Court, in theſe enſoldings ? Hath
not my gate in it, the meaſure of the Court ? Receivs not
thy Noſe Court-Odour from me ? Reflect I not on thy
Baſeneſſe, Court-Contempt ? Think'ft thou, for that I
inſinate, or toaze from theſe thy Buſineſſe, I am there-
fore not Courtier ? I am Courtier Cap-a-pe; and one that
will either puſh-on, or pluck-backe, thy Buſineſſe there :
whereupon I command thee to open thy Aſſaire.

Shep. My buſineſſe, Sir, is to the King.

Aut. What Adocate ha'ſt thou to him ?

Shep. I know not (and't like you.)

Clo. Aduocate's the Court-word for a Pheazant: ſay
you have none.

Shep. None, Sir : I have no Pheazant Cocke, nor Hen.

Aut. How bleſſed are we, that are not ſimple men ?
Yet Nature might have made me as theſe are,

Therefore I will not diſdaine.

Clo. This cannot be but a great Courtier.

Shep. His Garments are rich, but he weares them not
handſomely.

Clo. He ſeemes to be the more Noble, in being ſanta-
ſticall: a great man, Ile warrant; I know by the picking
on's Teeth.

Aut. The Fartheſt there ? What's it' th' Fartheſt ?

Wherefore that Box?

Shep. Sir, there lyes ſuch ſecrets in this Fartheſt and
Box, which none muſt know but the King, and which he
thall know within this houre, if I may come to th' ſpeech
of him.

Aut. Age, thou haſt loft thy labour.

Shep. Why Sir?

Aut. The King is not at the Pallace, he is gone aboard
a new Ship, to purge Melancholy, and ayre himſelfe : for
if thou bee't capable of things ſerious, thou muſt know
the King is full of griefe.

Shep. So'tis faid (Sir :) about his Sonne, that ſhould
have married a Shep heards Daugh ter.

Aut. If that Shep heard be not in hand-ſaſt, let him
ſlye; the Curſes he ſhall have, the Tortures he ſhall feele,
will breake the backe of Man, the heart of Monſter.

Clo. Thinke you ſo, Sir?

Aut. Not he alone ſhall ſuffer what Wit can make
heavy, and Vengeance bitter; but thofe that are Iermaine
to him (though remov'd fifty times) ſhall all come under
the Hang-man : which, though it be great pitty, yet it is
neceſſary. An old Sheepe-whiſtling Rogue, a Ram-ten-
der, to offer to have his Daughter come into grace? Some
ſay he ſhall be ſton'd : but that death is too ſoft for him
(fay 1:) Draw our Thro'ne into a Sheep-Coat ? all deaths
are too ſew, the sharpeſt too eafe.

Clo. Ha's the old-man ere a Sonne Sir (doe yon heare)
and't like you, Sir?

Aut. He ha's a Sonne : who ſhall be ſlaid alive, then
'noynted over with Honey, ſet on the head of a Wafpes
Neſt, then ſtand till he be three quarters and a dram dead;
then recover'd againe with Aquavitæ, or ſome other hot
Infuſion: then, raw as he is (and in the hoteſt day Pregno-
fication proclaymes) ſhall he be ſet againſt a Brick-wall
(the Sunne looking with a South-ward eye upon him;
where he is to behold him, with Flyes blowne to death.)
But what talke we of theſe Traitorly-Raſcals, whose mi-
feries are to be ſmil'd at, their offences being ſo capitall?

Tell

Pray

The Winters Tale.

Tell me (for you seeme to be honest plaine men) what you
have to the King : being f something gently confider'd, I
bring you where he is aboard, tender your perons to his
prefence, whife him in your behalfe; and if it be in
man, befides the King, to effect your Suites, here is man
shall doe it.

Clo. He feemes to be of great authority : clove with
him, give him Gold : and though Authority be a flub-
borne Beare, yet he is oft led by the Nofe with Gold :
shew the in-fide of your Purse to the out-fide of his
hand, and no more adoe. Remember iton'd, and flay'd
alive.

Shep. And't pleafe you (Sir) to undertake the Busineſſe
for us, here is that Gold I have : Ile make it as much
more, and leave this young man in pawne, till I bring it
you.

Aut. After I have done what I promiſed ?

Shep. I fir.

Aut. Well, give me the Moity : Are you a party in
this Busineſſe ?

Clo. In ſome ſort, Sir : but though my caſe be a pit-
tifull one, I hope I ſhall not be flayd out of it.

Aut. Oh, that's the caſe of the Shepheards Sonne :
hang him, he'le be made an example.

Clo. Comfort, good comfort : We muſt to the King,
and ſhow our ſtrange fightes : he muſt know't his none of
our Daughter, nor my Sifter : we are gone eſſe. Sir, I
will give you as much as this old man do's, when the Bu-
ſineſſe is performed, and remaine (as he ſayes) your
pawne till it be brought you.

Aut. I will truſt you. Walke before toward the Sea-
fide, goe on the right hand, I will but looke upon the
Hedge, and follow you.

Clo. We are bleſſ'd, in this man : as I may ſay, even
bleſſ'd.

Shep. Let's before, as he bids us : he was provided to
doe us good.
Exeunt.

Aut. If I had a mind to be honest, I fee Fortune would
not ſuffer me : ſhe drops Boöties in my mouth. I am
courted now with a double occafion: (gold, and a means
to doe the Prince my Maſter good; which, who knowes
how that may turne backe to my aduancement?) I will
bring theſe two Mo'les, theſe blind-ones, aboard him, if
he thinke it fit to ſhoare them againe, and that the Com-
plaint they have to the King, concernes him nothing, let
him call me Rogue, for being ſo farre offiſious, for I am
proſe againſt that Title, and what ſhame eſſe belongs
to't : To him will I preſent them, there may be matter in
it.
Exeunt.

Adus Quintus. Scena Prima.

Enter Leontes, Cleomenes, Dion, Paulina, Servants
Florizel, Perdita.

Cleo. Sir, you have done enough, and have perform'd
A Saint-like Sorrow : No fault could you make,
Which you have not redeem'd; indeed pay'd downe
More penitence, then done trefpas : At the laſt
Doe, as the Heavens have done; forget your evill,
With them, forgive your ſelfe.

Leo. Whileſt I remember,

Her and her Vertues, I cannot forget

My blemiſhes in them, and ſo ſtill thinke of
The wrong I did my ſelfe : which was ſo much,
That Heire-leſſe it hath made my Kingdome, and
Dewtroy'd the fweet'ſt companion, that ere man
Bred his hopes out of, true.

Paul. Too true (my Lord :)

If one by one, you wedded all the World,
Or from the All that are, tooke ſomething good,
To make a perfect Woman; ſhe you kill'd,
Would be unparallel'd.

Leo. I thinke to. Kill'd?

She I kill'd? I did ſo : but thou ftrik'ſt me

Sorely, to ſay I did : it is as bitter

Vpon thy Tongue, as in my Thought. Now, good now,
Say ſo but ſeldome.

Cleo. Not at all, good Lady :

You might have ſpoken a thousand things, that would
Have done the time more benefit, and grac'd

Your kindneſſe better.

Paul. You are one of thofe

Would have him wed againe.

Dio. If you would not ſo,

You pitty not the State, nor the Remembrance
Of his moſt Soveraigne Name : Confider little,
What Dangers, by his Highneſſe faile of Illue,
May drop upon his Kingdome, and devoure
Incertaine lookers on. What were more holy,
Then to rejoyce the former Queene is well ?

What holyer, then for Royalties reparaire,
For preſent comfort, and for future good,
To bleſſe the Bed of Majeſty againe
With a fweet fellow to't?

Paul. There is none worthy,
(Respecting her that's gone:) ſefides the Gods
Will have full ſill their ſecreſt purpofes :
For ha's not the Divine Apollo ſaid?
Is't not the tenor of his Oracle,
That King Leontes ſhall not have an Heire,
Till his loſt Child be found ? Which, that it ſhall,
Is all as monitrous to our humane reaſon,
As my Antigonus to breake his Grave,
And come againe to me: who, on my life,
Did perſh with the Infant. 'Tis your councell,
My Lord ſhould to the Heavens be contray,
Oppofe againſt their wills. Care not for illue,
The Crowne will find an Heire. Great Alexander
Left his to th'Worthiſt: ſo his Succeſſor
Was like to be the beſt.

Leo. Good Paulina,

Who haſt the memory of Hermione
I know in honor : O, that ever I
Had ſquar'd me to thy councell : then, even now,
I might have look'd upon my Queenes full eyes,
Have taken Treſoure from her Lippes.

Paul. And left them

More rich, for what they yeelded.

Leo. Thou speak'ſt truth :

No more ſuch Wives, therefore no Wife: one worſe,
And better us'd, would make her Sainted Spirit
Againe poffeſſe her Corps, and on this Stage
(Where we offenders now appear) Soule-vext,
And begin, why to me;

Paul. Had ſhe ſuch power,
She had juſt ſuch cauſe.

Leo. She had, and would incenſe me
To murther her I marryed.

Paul.

The Winters Tale.

299

Paul. I should so :

Were I the Ghost that walk'd, I'd bid you marke
Her eye, and tell me for what dull part in't
You chofe her : then I'd flrieke, that even your eares
Should rift to heare me, and the words that follow'd,
Should be, Remember mine.

Leo. Starres, Starres,

And all eyes else, dead coales : feare thou no Wife;

He have no Wife, Paulina.

Paul. Will you fware

Never to marry, but by my free leave ?

Leo. Never (Paulina) fo be bleff'd my Spirit.

Paul. Then good my Lords, beare witneſſe to his Oath.

Cleo. You tempt him over-much.

Paul. Vnleſſe another,

As like Hermione, as is her Picture,

Affront his eye.

Cleo. Good Madam, I have done.

Paul. Yet if my Lord will marry : if you will, Sir ;

No remedy but you will : Give me the office

To chufe you a Queene : ſhe shall not be ſo young

As was your former, but ſhe ſhall be ſuch

As(walk'd your firſt Queens Ghoſt) it ſhould take joy
To fee her in your armes.

Leo. My true Paulina,

We ſhall not marry, till thou bidſt us.

Paul. That

Shall be when your firſt Queene's againe in breath :
Never till then.

Enter a Servant.

Ser. One that gives out himſelfe Prince Florizell,

Sonne of Polixenes, with his princeſſe (ſhe
The faireſt I have yet beheild) deſires acceſſe

To your high prefence.

Leo. What with him ? he comes not
Liketo his Fathers Greatneſſe : his approach
(So out of circumſtance, and iuddaine) tells us,
'Is not a Vifuation fram'd, but ſore'd
By neech, and accident. What Trayne ?

Ser. But few,

And thofe but meane.

Leo. His Princeſſe (fay you) with him ?

Ser. I : the moſt peereſſe piece of Earth, I thinke,
That ere the Sunne ſhone bright on.

Paul. Oh Hermione,

As every prefent Time doth boast it ſelſe
Abovea better, gone ; ſo muſt thy Grave
Give way to what's ſeene now. Sir, you your ſelſe

Have taid, and writ fo; but your writing now

Is colder then that Theame : ſhe had not beene,

Nor was not to be equal'd, thus your Verſe

Flow'd with her Beauty once, 'tis ſhrewdly ebb'd,
To fay you have ſeene a better.

Ser. Pardon, Madam :

The one, I have almost forgot (your pardon :)

The other, when ſhe ha's obtain'd your Eye,
Will have your Tongne too. This is a Creature,

Would ſhe begin a ſeet, might quench the zeale

Of all Proſeſſors eſſe ; make Profelytes

Of who ſhe but bid follow.

Paul. How ? not women?

Ser. Women will love her, that ſhe is a Woman
More worth then any Man : Men, that ſhe is
The rareſt of all Women.

Leo. Goe Cleomines,

Your ſelſe (aſlifted with your honor'd friends)

Bring them to our embracement. Still'is ſtrange,
He thus ſhould ſteale upon us.

Paul. Had our Prince.

(Jewell of Children) ſeene this houre, he had payr'd
Well with this Lord ; there was not full a moneth
Betweene their births.

Leo. 'Prethee no more ; ceaſe : thou know'ſt
He dyes to me againe, when talk'd-of: ſure
When I ſhall fee this Gentleman, thy ſpeechs
Will bring me to confider that, which may
Vnſurniſh me of Reaſon. They are come.

Enter Florizell, Perdita, Cleomines, and others.

Your Mother was moſt true to Wedlocke, Prince,
For ſhe did print your Royall Father off,
Conceiving you, Were I but twenty one,
Your Fathers Image is ſo hit in you,

(His very ayre) that I ſhould call you Brother,

As I did him, and ſpeake of ſomething wildly

By us perſorm'd before. Moſt dearly welcome,

And your faire Princeſſe (Geddeſſe) oh : alas,

I loft a couple, that 'twixt Heaven and Earth

Might thus have ſood, begettng wonder, as

You (gracious Couple) doe : and then I loft

(All mine owne Folly) the Society,

Amity too of your brave Father, whom

(Though bearing Mifery) I deſire my life

Once more to looke on him.

Florizell. By his command

Have I here touch'd Sicilia, and from him

Give you all greetings, that a King (as friend)

Can feed his Brother : and but infirmity

(Which waits upon worne times) hath ſomething ſeiz'd
His wif'd Ability, he had himſelſe

The Landsand Waters, 'twixt your Throre and his

Meaſur'd, to looke upon you; whom he loves

(He bad me ſay fo) more then all the Scepters,

And thofe that beare them, living.

Leo. Oh my brother,

(Good Gentleman) the wrongs I have done thee, flirre

A freſh within me : and theſe thy offices

(So rarely kind) are as Interpreters

Of my behind-hand ſlackeneſſe. Welcome hither,

As is the Spring to th' Earth. And hath he too

Expos'd this Paragon to th' ſcarefull ſuſage

(At least) ungenteel of the dreadfull Neptune,

To greet a man, not worth her paines; much leſſe,

Th'adventure of her perfon ?

Florizell. Good my Lord,

She came from Libia.

Leo. Where the Warlike Smalus,

That Noble honor'd Lord, is fear'd, and lov'd ?

Florizell. Moſt Royall Sir,

From thence : from him, whoſe Daughter

His Teares proclaim'd his parting with her : thence

(A profёрous South-wind friendly) we have croſs'd,

To execute the Charge my Father gave me,

For vifiting your Highneſſe : My beſt Traine

I have from your Sicilian Shores diſinſ'd ;

Who for Boh mia bend, to ſignifie

Not onely my ſucceſſe in Libia (fir)

But my arrivall, and my Wifes, in ſafety

Here, where we are.

Leo. The bleſſed gods

Purge all inſection from our Ayre, whileſt you
Doe Clymate here : you have a holy Father,

A gracefull Gentleman, againſt whoſe perfon

(So

300

The Winters Tale.

(So sacred as it is) I have done finne,
For which the Heavens (taking angry note)
Have left me Ifleue-leffe: and your Father's blefs'd
(As he from Heaven merits it) with you,
'Worthy his goodneffe. What might I have beene,
Might I a Sonne and Daughter now have look'd on,
Such goodly things as you?

*Enter a Lord.*

Lord. Moft Noble Sir,
That which I shall report, will beare no credit,
Were not the proofe so nigh. Pleafe you (great Sir)
*Bohemia* greets you from himselve, by me :
Defires you to attach his fonne, who ha's
(His Dignity, and Duty both caft off)
Fled from his Father, from his Hopes, and with
A Shepheards Daughter.

Leo. Where's Bohemia? fpeake :

Ler. Heere, in your City: I now came from him.
I fpeak amazedly, and it becomes
My mervale, and my Meflage. To your Court
Whiles he was haftning (in the Chafe, it feemes,
Of this faire Couple) meets he on the way
The Father of this feeming Lady, and
Her Brother, having both their Country quitted,
With this young Prince.

Flo. Camillo ha's betray'd me ;

Whofe honor, and whofe honefty till now,
Endur'd all Weathers.

Lerd. Lay't fo to his charge :

He's with the King your Father.

Leo. Who? Camillo ?

Lord. Camillo (Sir :) I fpeak with him : who now
Ha's thefe poore men in queftion. Never faw I
Wretches fo quake : they kneele, they kiffe the Earth ;
Forfware themfelves as often as they fpeake :
Bohemia stops his eares, and threatens them
With divers deaths, in death.

Per. Oh my poore Father :

The Heaven fets Spyes upon us, will not have
Our Contraft celebrated.

Leo. You are married ?

Flo. We are not (Sir) nor are we like to be :

The Starres (I fee) will kiffe the Valleyes firſt :
The oddes for high and low's alike.

Leo. My Lord,

Is this the Daughter of a King ?

Flo. She is,

When once he is my Wife.

Leo. That once (I fee) by your good Fathers ſpeed,
Will come-on very flowly. I am fory
(Moft forry) you have broken from his liking,
Where you were ty'd in duty : and as forry,
Your Choyfe is not so rich in Worth, as Beauty,
That you might well enjoy her.

Flo. Deare looke up :

Though Fortune, vifible an Enemy,
Should chafe us, with my Father : powre no jot
Hath he to change our Loves. Befeech you (Sir)
Remember, ſince you ow'd no more to Time
Then I doe now : with thought of ſuch Affections,
Step forth mine Aduocate : at your requeſt,
My Father will grant precious things, as Trifles.

Leo. Would he doe ſo, I'd beg your precious Miftris
Which he counts but a Trifle.

Paul. Sir (my Liege)

Your eye hath too much youth in't : not a moneth

'Fore your Queene dy'd, ſhe was more worth ſuch gazes
Then what you looke on now.

Leo. I thought of her,
Even in theſe Lookes I made. But your Petition
Is yet un-anſwer'd : I will to your Father :
Your Honor not o're-throwne by your defires,
I am friend to them, and you : upon which Errand
I now goe toward him : therefore follow me,
And marke what way I make: Come good my Lord.

*Exeunt.*

## Scena Secunda.

*Enter Antolicus, and a Gent. man.*

Aut. Befeech you (Sir) were you preſent at this Re-
lation ?

Gent. 1. I was by at the opening of the Farthell, heard
the old Shephard deliver the manner how he found it:
whereupon (after a little amazeneſſe) we were allcom-
manded out of the Chamber : only this (me thought) I
heard the Shephard ſay, he found the Child.

Aut. I would moſt gladly know the ifle of it,

Gen. 1. I make a broken delivery of the Bufneſſe :
but the changes I perceived in the King, and Camillo, were
very Notes of admiration : they ſeem'd almoſt, with fla-
ring on one another, to teare the Cafes of their Eyes.
There was ſpeech in their dumbneſſe, Language in their
very gefure : they look'd as they had heard of a World
ranſom'd, or one defroyed : a notable paſſion of Won-
der appeared in them: but the wifef't be holder, that knew
no more but feeing, could not ſay, if th'importance were
Ioy, or Sorrow ; but in the extremity of the one, it muſt
needs be.

*Enter another Gentleman.*

Here comes a Gentleman, that happily knowes more:
The Newes, Rogero.

Gen. 2. Nothing but Bonfires: the Oracle is fulfill'd :
the Kings Daughter is found: ſuch a deale of wonder is
broken out within this houre, that Ballad-makers cannot
be able to expreſſe it.

*Enter another Gentleman.*

Here comes the Lady Paulina's Steward, he can deliver
you more. How goes it now (Sir.) This Newes (which
is call'd true) is ſo like an old Tale; that the verity of it is
in ſtrong ſuppition: Ha's the King found his Heire?

Gen. 3. Moſt true, if ever Truth were pregnant by
Circumſtance: That which you heare, you'l ſware
you fee, there is ſuch unity in the proofes. The Mantle
of Queene Hermiones: her lewell about the Necke of it:
the Letters of Antigonus found with it, which they know
to be his Charracter; the Majeſty of the Creature, in
reſemblance of the Mother: the Affection of Noblenefle,
which Nature ſhewes above her Breeding, and many o-
ther Evidences, proclaime her, with all certainty, tobe
the Kings Daughter. Did you fee the meeting of the two
Kings ?

Gent. 2. No.

Gent. 3. Then have you loft a Sight which was to bee
ſeene, cannot be ſpoken of. There might you have be-
held one Ioy crowne another, ſo and in ſuch manner, that
it ſeem'd Sorrow wept to take leave of them : for their
Ioy waded in teares. There was caſting up of Eyes, hol-
ding up of hands, with Countenance of ſuch diſtraſion,
that they were to be knowne by Garment, not by Favor.

*Our*

The Winters Tale.

301

Our King being ready to leape out of himfelfe, for joy of
his found Daughter; as if that joy were now become a
Loffe, cryes, Oh, thy Mother, thy Mother: then askes
Bohemia forgiveneſſe, then embraces his Sonne-in-Law:
then againe worryes he his Daughter, with clipping her.
Now he thanks the old Shepheard (which flands by, like
a Weather-bitten Conduit, of many Kings Reignes.) I
never heard ofuch another Encounter; whichlames Re-
port to follow it, and undo's deſcription to doe it.

Gent. 2. What, pray you, became of Antigonus, that carried hence the Child?

Gent. 3. Like an old Tale ſtill, which will have matter to rehearſe, though Credit be aſſeepc, and not an ear o-pen; he was torne to pieces with a Bearc: This avouches the Shepheards Sonne, who ha's not onely his Innocence (which ſeemes much) to juſtify him, but a hand-ker-chieſe and Rings of his, that Paulina knowes.

Gent. 1. What became of his Barke, and his Follow-ers?

Gent. 3. Wrackt the fame inſtant of their Maſters death, and in the view of the Shepheard: to that all the Inſtruments which ay ded to expeſe the Child, were even then left, when it was found. But oh the Noble Combat, that 'twixt Ioy and Sorrow was ſought in Paulina. She had one Eye deciſd'for the Loffe of her Husband, anotber elevated, that the Oracle was fulſiſt'd: She lifted the Princeſe from the Earth, and ſo lockes her in embracing as if she would pin her to her heart, that ſhe might no more be in danger of loſing.

Gent. 1. The Dignity of this Act was worth the au-dience of Kings and Princes, for by ſuch was it acted.

Gent. 3. One of the prettyſt touches of all, and that which ang'd for mine Eyes (caught the Water, though not the Fifth) was, when at the Relation of the Queenes death (with the manner how ſhe came to't, bravely con-feſ'd, and lamented by the King) how attentivenſe wounded his Daughter, till (from one ſigne of dolour to another) ſhe did (with an Alas) I would faine ſay, bleed Teares; for I am ſure, my heart wept blood. Who was moſt Marble, there changed colour: ſome ſwownded, all ſollowed: if all the World could have ſeen't, the Woe had beene univerſall.

Gent. 1. Are they returned to the Court?

Gent. 3. No: The Princeſe hearing of her Mothers Statue (which is in the keeping of Paulina) a Pecce many yeeres in doing, and now newly perform'd, by that rare Italian Maſter, Iulio Romano, who (had he himſelfe eſter-nity, and could put Breath into his Worke) would be-guile Nature of her Cuiſome, to perfectly he is her Ape: He ſo neere to Hermione, hath done Hermione, that they ſay one would ſpeake to her, and ſtand in hope of anſwer. Thither (with all greedineſſe of affection) are they gone, and there they intend to Sup.

Gent. 2. I thought ſhe had ſome great matter there in hand, for ſhe hath privately, twice or thrice a day, ever ſince the death of Hermione, viſited that removed houſe. Shall we thither, and with our company peeceth the rejo-ying?

Gent. 1. Who would be thence, that lia's the benefit of Accefſe? every winke of an Eye, ſome new Grace will be borne: our Abſence makes us unthrifty to our Knowledge. Let's along.

Aut. Now (had I not the dafh of my former life in me) would Preſentment drop on my head. I brought the old man and his Sonne aboord the Prince; told him, I heard them talke of a Farthell, and I know not what: but

he at that time over-fond of the Shepheards daughter (to
he then tooke her to be) who began to be much Sea-fick,
and himſelfe little better, extremity of Weather con-
nuing, this Myſtery remained undifcover'd. But 'tis all
one to me: for had I beene the finder-out of this ſeeret,
it would not have rellifh'd among my other diſcreets.

Enter Shepheard, and Clowne.

Here come thofe I have done good to againſt my will,
and already appearing in the bloſomſ of their For-
tune.

Shep. Come boy, I am paſt more Children: but thy Sonnes and Daughters will be all Gentlemen borne.

Clown. You are well met (Sir:) you deny'd to fight with me this other day, because I was no Gentleman borne. See you theſe Clothes? ſay you ſee them not, and thinke me ſtill no Gentleman borne: You were beſt ſay theſe Robes are not Gentlemen borne. Give me the Lye: doe: and try whether I am not now a Gentleman borne.

Aut. I know you are now (Sir) a Gentleman borne.

Clown. I, and have beene ſo any time theſe ſoure hours,

Shep. And ſo have I, Boy.

Clown. So you have : but I was a Gentleman borne before my Father: for the Kings Sonne tooke me by the hand, and cali'd me brother; and then the two Kings call'd my Father brother: and then the Prince (my brother) and the Princeſe (my Sitter) call'd my father, father; and ſo we wept: and there was the first Gentleman-like teares that ever we ſhed.

Shep. We may live (Sonne) to ſhed many more.

Clo. I: or eſſe 'twere hard lucke, being in ſo prepoſte-
rous eſtate as we are.

Aut. I humbly beſeech you (Sir) to pardon me all the
faults I have committed to your Worſhip, and to give
me your good report to the Prince my Maſter.

Shep. 'Prethee Sonne doe: for we muſt be gentle, now we are Gentlemen.'

Clown. Thou wilt amend thy life?

Aut. I, and it like your good Worſhip.

Clown. Give me thy hand: I will ſweare to the Prince,
thou art as honeſt a true Fellow as any in Bohemia.

Shep. You may ſay it, but not ſweare it.

Clown. Not ſweare it, now I am a Gentleman? Let
Boores and Francklins ſay it, Ile ſweare it.

Shep. How if it be false (Sonne)?

Clown. If it be ne're ſo ſalle, a true Gentleman may
ſweare it, in the behalfe of his friend: And Ile ſweare to
the Prince, thou art a tall Fellow of thy hands, and that
thou wilt not be drunke: but I know thou art no tall fel-
low of thy hands, and that thou wilt be drunke: but Ile
ſweare it, and I would thou would't be a tall Fellow of
thy hands.

Aut. I will prove ſo (Sir) to my power.

Clo. I, by any means prove a tall Fellow: if I do not
wonder, how thou dar't venture to be drunke, not being
a tall Fellow, truſt me not. Harke, the Kings and the Prin-
ces (our Kindred) are going to fee the Queenes. Picture.
Come, follow us: we'll be thy good Maſter.

## Scæna Tertia.

Enter Leontes, Polixenes, Florizell, Perdita, Camilla,
Paulina: Hermione (like a Statue:) Lords, etc.

Leo. O grave and good Paulina, the great comfort
That I have had of thee?

Cc

Paul,

The Winters Tale.

302

Paul. What (Soveragine Sir)
I did not well, I meant well : all my Services
You have pay'd home. But that you have vouchfald
(With your Crown'd Brother, and these your contracted
Heires of your kingdomes) my poore Houfe to visit;
It is a surplus of your Grace, which never
My life may laft to answër.

Ler. O Paulina,
We honor you with trouble : but we came
To see the Statue of our Queene. Your Gallery
Have we pafs'd through, not without much content
In many singularities ; but we faw not
That which my Daughter came to looke upon.
The Statue of her Mother.

Paul. As ſhe liv'd peereleſſe,
So her dead likenefle I doo well beleeve
Excels what ever yet you look'd upon,
Or hand of Man hath done : therefore I keepe it :
Lovely, apart. But here it is: prepare
To feeth the Life as lively mock'd, as ever
Still Sleepe mock'd death : behold, and ſay 'tis well.
I like your filence, it the more ſhewes off
Your wonder : but yet (ſpeake, firſt you (my Liege)
Comes it not ſomething neere ?

Leo. Her naturall Poſture.
Chide me (deare Stone) that I may ſay indeed
Thou art Hermione ; or rather, thou art ſhe,
In thy not chiding : for ſhe was as tender
As infancy, and Grace. But yet (Paulina)
Hermione was not so much wrinkled, nothing
So aged as this ſeemes.

Pol. Oh, not by much.

Paul. So much the more our Carvers excellence.
Which lets goe-by fome fixteene yeeres, and makes her
As ſhe liv'd now.

Leo. As now ſhe might have done,
So much to my good comfort, as it is
Now piercing to my Soule. Oh, thus ſhe ſtood,
Even with ſuch Life of Majeſty (warme Life,
As now it coldly ſtands) when firſt I woo'd her.
I am aſham'd : Do's not the Stone rebuke me,
For being more Stone then it ? Oh Royall Peecce :
There's Magicke in thy Majeſty, which ha's
My evils conjur'd to remembrance ; and
From thy admiring Daughter tooke the Spirits,
Standing like Stone with thee,

Perd. And give me leave,
And doe not ſay 'tis Superſtition, that
I kneele, and then implore her Bleſſing. Lady,
Deere Queene, that eaded when I but began,
Give me that hand of yours, to kiffle.

Paul. O, patience :
The Statue is but newly fix'd ; the Colour's
Not dry.

Cam. My Lord, your Sorrow was too fore lay'd-on,
Which fixteene Winters cannot blow away,
So many Summers dry : Iearce any Ioy
Did ever fo long live ; no Sorrow,
But kill'd it ſelſe much sooner.

Pol. Deere my Brother,
Let him, that was the caufe of this, have powre
To take off fo much griefe from you, as he
Will peeece up in him ſelſe.

Paul. Indeed my Lord,
If I had thought the fight of my poore Image
Would thus have wrongt you (for the Stone is mine)

I'd not have ſhew'd it.

Leo. Doe not draw the Curtaine.

Paul. No longer shall you gaze on't, leaſt your Fancy
May thinke anon, it moves.

Leo. Let be, let be.
Would I were dead, but that me thinkes already,
(What was he that did make it ?) See (my Lord)
Would you not decme it breath'd and that thole veines
Did verily beare blood ?

Pol. Maſterly done.
The very Life ſeemes warme upon her Lippe.

Leo. The fixture of her Eye ha's motion in't.
As we are mock'd with Art.

Paul. Ile draw the Curtaine :
My Lord's almoſt to farre tranſporded, that
Hee'll thinke anon it lives.

Leo. Oh ſweet Paulina,
Make me to thinke ſotwenty yeeres together :
No fetled Sences of the World can match
The pleasure of that madneſſe. Let't alone.

Paul. I am ſorry (Sir) I have thus farre fl't'd you but
I could afflict you farther.

Leo. Doc Paulina.
For this Afflction ha's a taſte as ſweet
As any Cordiall comfort. Still me thinkes
There is an ayre comes from her. What fine Chizzell
Could ever yet cut breath? Let no man mocke me,
For I will kiffle her,

Paul. Good me Lord forbeare;
The ruddineſſe upon her Lippe, is wet :
You'll marre it, if you kiffle it; ſtaine your owne
With Oyly Painting: ſhall I draw the Curtaine?

Leo. No : not the ſe twenty yeeres.

Perd. So long could I
Stand by, a looker-on.

Paul. Either forbeare,
Quit preſently the Chappell, or reſolve you
For more amazement : if you can behold it,
Ile make the Statue move indeed; defend,
And take you by the hand : but then you'll thinke
(Which I proteſt againſt) I am affiſted
By wick'd Powers.

Leo. What you can make her doe,
I am content to looke on : what to ſpeake,
I am content to heare : for 'tis as eafe
To make her ſpeake, as move.

Paul. It is reuqir'd
You doe awake your Faith : then, all ſtand ſtill:
On : thofe that thinke it is unlaw ſull Bufinſle
I am about, let them depart.

Leo. Proceed :
No foot shall ſtirre.

Paul. Muſicke; awake her : Strike :
'Tis time: defend: be Stone no more : approach :
Strike all that looke upon with mervaile: Come:
Ile fill your Grave up : ſirre : nay, come away :
Bequeath to Death your numneſſe: (for from him,
Deare Life redeemes you) you perceive ſhe ſirres:
Start not : her Actions ſhall be holy, as
You heare my ſpell is lawfull : doe not ſhun her,
Vntill you fee her dye againe; for then
You kill her double: Nay, preſent your hand :
When ſhe was young, you woo'd her : now, in age,
Is ſhe become the Suitor?

Leo. Oh ſhe's warme :
If this be Magicke, let it be an Art

Law.

The Winters Tale.

Lawfull as Eating.

Pol. She embraces him.

Cam. She hangs about his necke,

If she pertaine to life, let her speake too.

Pol. I, and make it manifeet where she ha's liv'd,

Or how folne from the dead?

Paul. That she is living,

Were it but told you, should be hooted at

Like an old Tale: but it appeares her lives,

Though yet she speake not. Marke a little while :

Pleafe you to interpofe (faire Madam) kneele,

And pray your Mothers bleffing; turne good Lady,

Our *Perdita* is found.

Her. You gods looke downe,

And from your facred Viols pourè your graces

Vpon my daughters head: Tell me (mine owne)

Where haft thou bin preferv'd? Where liv'd? How found
Thy Fathers Court? For thou salt haere that I

Knowing by *Paulina*, that the Oracle

Gave hope thou waft in being, have preferv'd
My selfe, to fee the iflue.

Paul. There's time enough for that;

Leaft they desire (upon this puſh) to trouble

Your joyes, with like Relation. Goe together

You precious winners all : your exultation

Partake to every one: I (an old Turtle)

Will wing me to fome wither'd bough, and there

My Mate (that's never to be found againe)

Lament, till I am loft.

Leo. O peace *Paulina* :

Thou shouldst a husband take by my confent,

As I by thine a Wife. This is a Match,

And made betweene's by Vowes. Thou haſt found mine,

But how, is to be queſtion'd: for I faw her

(As I thought) dead : and have (in vaine) faid many

A prayer upon her grave. Ile not feeke farre

(For him, I partly know his minde) to find thee

An honourable husband. Come *Camillo*,

And take her by the hand: whoſe worth, and honeſty

Is richly noted: and heere juſtified

By Vs, a paire of Kings. Let's from this place.

What ? looke upon my Brother : both your pardons,

That ere I put betweene your holy lookses

My ill ſupſition: This your Son-in-law,

And Sonne unto the King, whom heavens directing

Istroth-plight to your daughter. Good *Paulina*,

Leade us from hence, where we may leyfurely

Each one demand, and anſwer to his part

Perform'd in this wide gap of Time, ſince firſt

We were diſſever'd. Haſtily leade away.

Exeunt.

The Names of the Actors.

Leontes, King of Sicilia.
Mamillus, jong Prince of Sicilia.

Camillo.

Antigonus. Fourè.

Clouines. Lords of Sicilia.

Dion.

Hermione, Queen to Leontes.

Perdita, Daughter to Leontes and Hermione.

Paulina, wife to Antigonus.

Emilia, a Lady.

Polixenes, King of Bohemia.

Florizell, Prince of Bohemia.

Old Shepheard, reputed Father of *Perdita*.

Clowne his Sonne.

Antolicus, a Rogue.

Arbидamus, a Lord of Bohemia.

Other Lords, and Gentlemen, and Servants.

Shepheards, and Shepheard ddeſſes.

FINIS.

The life and death of King Iohn.

Actus Primus, Scena Prima.

Enter King Iohn, Queen Elinor, Pembroke, Effex, and Salisbury, with the Chattylion of France.

King Iohn.

O w say Chattillion, what would France with us?

Chat. Thus (after greeting) (speaks the King of France.

In my behaviour to the Majety, the borrowed Majety of England heere.

Elea. A strange beginning: borrowed Majety?

King Ioh. Silence (good mother) hear the Embaffie.

Chat. Philip of France, in right and true behalfe

Of thy deceased brother, Geff'yesonne,

Arthur Plantagines, layes moft lawfull claime

To this faire lland, and the Territories:

To Ireland, Poijliers, Aujowe, Lorayne, Maine,

Defining thee to lay a fide the word

Which wayes vfurpingly thefeeverall titles,

And put the fame into yong Arthurs hand,

Thy Nephew, and right royall Soveraigne.

King Ioh. What followes if we difallow of this?

Chap. The proud controle of fierce and bloudy warre,

To inforce thefe rights, to forfibly withhold.

K. Ioh. Here have we war for: war, & bloud for bloud,

Controlement for controlement: fo anfwer France.

Chat. Then take my Kings defiance from my mouth,

The fartheft limit of my Embaffie.

King Iohn, Beare mine to him, and fo depart in peace,

Be thou as lightning in the eyes of France;

For ere thou canſt report, I will be there:

The thunder of my Cannon ſhall be heard.

So hencely: be thou the trumpet of our wrath,

And fullen prefage of your owne decay:

AnHonorable conduct let him have,

Pembroke looke too't: farewell Chattillion.

Exes Chat. and Pem.

Ele. What now my ſonne, have I not ever faid

How that ambitious Constance would not ceafe

Till he had kindled France and all the world,

Vpon the right and party of her ſonne?

This might have been prevented, and made whole

With very eafe arguments of love,

Which now the mannage of two kingdomes muſt

With fearefull bloudy ille arbitrate.

K. Iohn. Our strong poffeffion, and our right for us,

Eli. Your strong poffeffion much more thin your right

Or eſſe it muſt goe wrong with you and me,

So much my confidence whilpers in your care,

Which none but heaven, and you, and I, ſhall heare:

Enter a Sheriff.

Effex. My Leige, here is the strangeft controverſie

Come from the Country to be judg'd by you

Thatere I heard: ſhall I produce the men?

K. Iohn. Let them approach:

Our Abbies and our Priories ſhall pay

This expeditions charge. What men are you?

Enter Robert Faulconbridge, and Philip.

Philip. Your faithfull ſubject, I a Gentleman,

Borne in Northamptonſoire, and eldeſt ſonne

As I fuppofe, to Faulconbridge,

A Souldier by the Honor-giving-hand

Of Cordelion, Knighted in the field.

K. Iohn. What art thou?

Robert. The fon and heere to that fame Faulconbridge.

K. Iohn. Is that the elder, and art thou the heyre?

You camenot of one mother then it ſeemes.

Philip. Moſt certaine of one mother, mighty King,

That is well knowne, and as I thinke one father:

But for the certaine knowledge of that truth,

I put you o're to heaven, and to my mother;

Of that I doubt, as all mens children may.

Eli. Out on thee rude man, thou doſt flame thy mother,

And wound her honor with this diſtidence.

Phil. I Madame? No, I have no reaſon for it,

That is my brothers plea, and none of mino,

The which if he can prove, a pops me out,

At leaſt from faire five hundred pound a yeare:

Heaven guard my mothers honor, and my Land.

K. Iohn. A good blant fellow: why being yonger borne

Doth he lay claime to thine inheritance?

Phil. I know not why, except to get the land;

But once he ſlandered me with baſtardy:

But where I be as true begot or no,

That ſtill I lay upon my mothers head,

But that I am as well begot my Leige.

(Faire fall the bones that tooke the paines for me)

Compare our faces, and be judge your ſelfe

If old Sir Robert did beget us both,

And were our father, and this ſonne like him:

O old Sir Robert father, on my knee

I give heaven thankes I was not like to thee.

K. Iohn. Why what a mad-cap hath heaven left us here?

Elen. He hath a tricke of Cordelions ſace,

The accent of his tongue affecteth him:

Do you not reade ſome tokens of my ſonne

In the large compoſition of this man?

K. Iohn.

The Life and Death of King John.

K. John. Mine eye hath well examined his parts,
And finds them perfect Richard : firra fpeake,
What doth move you to claime your brothers land ?
Philip. Because he hath a halfe face like my father,
With halfe that face would he have all my Land,
A halfe-fac'd groat,five hundred pound a yeare?
Rob. My gracious Leige, when that my father liv'd,
Your brother did imploy my father much.

Phil. Well fir, by this you cannot get my land,
Your tale muft be how he imploit'd my mother.

Rob. And once dispatch'd him in an Embaffie
To Germany, there with the Emperor
To treat of high affaires touching that time :
Th'advantage of his abfence tooke the King,
And in the meane time fojourn'd at my fathers :
Where how he did prevaile, I fhame to fpeake :
But truth is truth, large lengths of feas and fhores
Betweene my father, and my mother lay,
As I have heard my father fpeake himfelfe
When this fame lufly Gentleman was got:
Upon his death bed he by will bequeath'd
His lands to me, and tooke it on his death
That this my mothers fonne was none of his :
And if he were, he came into the world
Full fourteene weekes before the courfe of time :
Then good my Liede let me have what is mine,
My fathers land, as was my fathers will.

K. John. Sirra, your brother is Legitimate,
Your fathers wife did after wedlocke beare him :
And if she did play falfe, the fault was hers,
Which fault lyes on the hazzards of all husbands
That marry wives : tell me, how if my brother
Who as you fay, tooke paines to get this fonne,
Had of your father claim'd this fonne for his,
Infooth, good friend, your father might have kept
This Caife, bred from his Cow from all the world :
Infooth he might : then if he were my brothers,
Mybrother might not claime him, nor your father
Being none of his, refute him : this concludes,
My mothers fonne did get your fathers heire,
Your fathers heire muft have your fathers land.

Rob. Shall then my fathers Will be of no force,
To diſpoſſe that child which is not his ?

Phil. Of no more force to diſpoſſe me Sir,
Then was his will to get me, as I thinke.

Eli. Whether had it thou rather be a Faſſonbridge,
And like thy brother to injoy thy land :
Or the reputed fonne of Cordelion,
Lord of thy prefence, and no land befide.

Baſſ. Madam, and if my brother had my shape
And I had his, Sir Roberts his like him,
And if my legs were two fuch riding rods,
My armes, fuch elec-skins ſtuff, my face ſo thin,
That in mine care I durſt not flicke a roſe,
Left men ſhould ſay, looke where three farthings goes,
And to his shape were heire to all this land,
Would I might never ſtirre from off this place,
I would give it every foot to have this face :
I would not be ſir nobbe in any cafe.

Eli. I like thee well : wilt thou forſake thy fortunne,
Bequeath thy land to him, and follow me ?
I am a ſouldier, and now bound to France.

Baſſ. Brother, take you my land, Ile take my chance;
Your face hath got five hundred pound a yeere,
Yet fell your face for five pence and 'tis deere.
Madame, Ile follow you unto the death.

Eli. Nay, I would have you goe before me thither.
Baſſ. Our Country manners give our betters way.

K. John. What is thy name ?

Baſſ. Philip my Liege, fo is my name begun,
Philip, good old Sir Roberts wives eldeſt fonne.

K. John. From henceforth beare his name
Whofe forme thou beareſt :

Kneele thou downe Philip, but rife more great,
Arife Sir Richard, and Plantagenet.

Baſſ. Brother by th'mothers ſide, give me your hand,
My father gave me honor, yours gave land,
Now bleſſed be the houre by night or day
When I was got, Sir Robert was away.

Ele. The very ſpirit of Plantagenet :
I am thy grandame Richard, call me fo.

Baſſ. Madam by chance, but not by truth, what the
Something about a little from the right,
In at the window, or eleſe ore the hatch :
Who dares not ſtirre by day, muſt walke by night,
And have is have , how ever men doe catch :
Neere or farre off, well wonne is ſtill well ſhor,
And I am I, how ere I was begot.

K. John. Goe Faſſonbridge, now haſt thou thy defire,
A landliffe Knight, makes thee a landed Squire :
Come Madam, and come Richard, we muſt ſpeed
For France, for France, for it is more then need.

Baſſ. Brother adieu, good fortune come to thee,
For thou waſt got this way of honcety.

Exeunt all but baſſard.

Baſſ. A foot of honor better then I was,
But many a many foot of Land the worſe.
Well, now can I make any Ioane a Lady;
Good denne Sir Richard, Godamercy fellow,
And if his name be George, ile call him Peter :
For new made honor doth forget mens names :
'Tis too, reſpective, and too ſociable
For your converſation, now your traveiller,
He and his tooth-picke at my worſhips meſſe,
And when my knightly ſtomacke is ſuffiſ'd,
Why then I ſucke my teeth, and catechize
My picked man of Countries : my deare fir,
Thus leaning on mine elbow I begin,
I ſhall beſech you ; that is queſtion now,
And then comes anſwer like an Abſey booke :
O fir, ſayes anſwer, at your beſt command,
At your employment , at your ſervice fir :
No fir, ſayes queſtion, I ſweeſ fir at yours,
And ſo ere anſwer knowes what queſtion would,
Saving in Dialogue of Complement,
And talking of the Alpes and Appenines,
The Pyrennean and the river Pœe,
It draws toward ſupper in conclusion ſo.
But this is worſhipfall ſociety,
And fits the mounting ſpirit like my ſelſe :
For he is but a baſſard to the time
That doth not ſmoake of obſervation,
And ſo am I whether I ſmacke or no :
And not alone in habit and device,
Exterior for me, outward accoutrement ;
But from the inward motion to deliver
Sweet, ſweet, ſweeſ poyſon for the ages tooth,
Which though I will not practice to deceive,
Yet toavoyd deceit I meane to leane :
For it shall trew the footſleps of my riling :
But who comes in fuch haſte in riding robes?

What

What woman poft isthis? hath she no husband
That will take painesto blow a horne before her ?
O me, tis my mother : how now good Lady,
What brings you here to Court so haftely ?

Enter Lady Faulcoubridge, and Iames Gurney.

Lady. Where is that flave thy brother ? where is he ?
That holds in chafe mine honor up and downe.

Baft. My brother Robert, old Sir Roberts fonne :
Colbrand the Gyant, that fame mighty man,
Is it Sir Roberts fonne that you feefe fo ?

Lady. Sir Roberts fonne, I thou unreverend boy,
Sir Roberts fonne ? why fcorn'th thou at Sir Roberts ?
He is Sir Roberts fonne, and fo art thou.

Baft. Iames Gourney, wift thou give us leave a while ?
Gour. Good leave good Philip.

Baft. Philip, Sparrow, Iames,

There's toyes abroad, anon ile tell thee more.

Exit Iames.

Madame, I was not old Sir Roberts fonne,

Sir Robert might have eate his part in me
Vpon good Friday, and neere broke his faft :

Sir Robert could doe well, marry to confefte
Could get me, Sir Robert could not doe it ;

We know his handy-worke, therefore good mother
To whom am I beholding for thefe limmes?

Sir Robert never holpe to make this legge.

Lady. Haft thou confpired with thy brother too,

That for thine o wn e gaine fhoufd defend mine honor ?
What means this fcorne, thou moft untoward knave ?

Baft. Knight, knight good mother, Bafilifco-like :

What, I am dub'd, I have it on my fhoulder :

But mother, I am not Sir Roberts fonne,

I have difclaim'd Sir Robert and my land,

Legitimation, name, and all is gone ;

Then good my mother, let me know my father,

Some proper man I hope, who was it mother ?

Lady. Haft thou denied thy felfe a Faulconbridge ?

Baft. As faithfully as I deny the devil.

Lady. King Richard Cordelion was thy father,

By long and vehement fuit I was feduc'd :

To make roome for him in my husbands bed :

Heaven lay not my transgression to my charge,

That art the ille of my deere offence

Which was fo strongly urg'd paf't my defence.

Baft. Now by this light were I to get againe,

Madame I would nor with a better father :

Some finnes doe beare their privilege on earth,
And fo doth yours : your fault, was not you folly,

Needs miff you lay your heart at his diſpofe,

Subjefted tribute to commanding love,

Against whole fury and unmatched force,

The awleſſe Lion could not wage the fight,

Nor keepe his Princely heart from Richards hand :

He that perforce robs Lions of their hearts,

May eafly winnea womans : aye my mother,

With all my heart I thankethee for my father :

Who lives and dares but fay, thou didst not well

When I was got, ile fend his foule to hell.

Come Lady I will fhow thee to my kinne,

And they ſhall fay, when Richard me begot,

If thou hadt faid him nay, it had beene finne ;

Who fayes it was, he lyes, I fay twas not.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter before Angiers, Philip King of France, Lewis, Daul-
phin, Anſtria, Conſtance, Arthur.

Lewis. Before Angiers well met brave Anſtria,

Arthur that great forerunner of thy bloud,
Richard that rob'd the Lion of his heart,

And fought the holy Warres in Paleſtine,

By this brave Duke came early to his grave :

And for amends to his pofterity,

At our importance hither is he come,

To spread his colours boy, in thy behalfe,

And to rebuke the nurſpation

Of thy unnaturall Vncle, Englifh Iohn,

Embrace him, love him, give him welcome hither:

Arth. God ſhall forgive you Cordelions death

The rather, that you give his off-pring life,

Shadowing their right under your wings of warre :

I give you welcome with a powerleſſe hand,

But with a heart full of unflained love,

Welcome before the gates of Angiers Duke.

Lewis. A noble boy, who would not doe thee right?

Arth. Vpon thy cheekelay I this zealous kiffle,

As feale to this indentare of my love :

That to my home I will no more turne

Till Angiers, and the right thou haſt in France,

Together with that pale, that white-fac'd ſhore,

Whofe foot ſpurnes backe the Oceans roaring tides,

And coopes from other lands her Ianders,

Even till that England hedg'd in with the maine,

That Water-walled Bulwarke, ſtill ſecure

And confident from forraine purpofes,

Even till that utmoft corner of the Weſt

Salute thee for her King, till then faire boy

Will I not thinke of home, but follow Armes?

Conſt. O take his mothers thankes, a widdows thankes,

Till your ſtrong hand ſhall helpe to give him ſtrength.

To make a more requitall to your love.

Arth. The peace of heaven is their that lift their ſwords

In fuch a juſt and charitable warre.

King. Well, then to worke our Cannon ſhall be bent

Against the browes of this refilling towne,

Call for our cheeſeſt men of diſcipline,

To cull the plots of beſt advantages :

We'll lay before this towne our Royall bones,

Wade to the market-place in French-mens bloud,

But we will make it ſubjeſt to this boy.

Conſt. Stay for an anſwer to your Embaſſe,

Left unaduif'd you ſtaine your ſwords with bloud :

My lord Chattilion may from England bring

That right in peace which heere we urge in warre,

And then we ſhall repent each drop of bloud,

That Hot rafh haſte ſo in directly ſhed.

Enter Chattilion.

King. A wonder Lady ; lo upon thy wifh

Our Meſſenger Chattilion is arriu'd,

What England fayes, ſay breifely gentellord,

We coldly paufe for thee, Chattilion ſpeake.

Char. Then turne your forces from this paltry ſiege,

And ſirre them up againſt a mightier taske :

England impatient of your juſt demands,

Hath put himſelfe in Armes, the adverfe windes

Whofe

6

Who by the hand of France, this day hath made
Much worké for teares in many an English mother,
Whofe fonnes lye scattered on the bleeding ground :
Many a widowes husband groveling lyes,
Coldly embracing the difcoloured earth,
And victory with little loffe doth play
Vpon the dancing banners of the French,
Who are at hand triumphantly difplayed
To enter Conquerors, and to proclaime
Arthur of Britaine, Englands King, and yours.
Enter English Herald with Trumpet.

E. Har. Rejoyce you men of Angiers, ring your bels,
King John, your King and Englands, doth approach,
Commander of this hot malicious day,
Their Armours that march'd hence so filser bright,
Hither returne all gilt with Frenchmens blood :
There flucke no plume in any English Creft,
That is removed by a flaffe of France.
Our colours doe returne in thofe fame hands
That did difplay them when we firft marcht forth :
And like a jolly troope of Huntfmen come
Our lafty English, all with purpled hands,
Dide in the dying flaunder of their foes.
Open your gates, and give the Victors way.
Hub. Heralds, from off our towres we might behold
From firft to laft, the on-feet and retyre,
Of both your Armies, whole equality
By our beft eyes cannot be confured :
Blood hath bought bloud, and blowes have antiewered
Strength matcht with strength, and power confronted
power.
Both are alike, and both alike we like :
One must prove greatest. While they weigh so even,
We hold our Towne for neither : yet for both.

Enter the two Kings with their powers,
at feveral doores.

John. France, haft thou yet more bloud to caft away?
Say, shall the currant of our right runne on,
Whofe paflage vext with thy impediment,
Shall leave his native channeil, and ore fwell
With courfe diſturb'd even thy confining flores,
Vnleſſe thou let his filver Water, keepe
A peacefull progreſſe to the Ocean.

Fran. England thou haft not fav'd one drop of blood
In this hot triall more than we of France,
Rather loft more. And by this hand I ſware
That ſwayes the earth this Climate over-lookes,
Before we will lay downe our juſt-borne Armes,
Wee'l put thee downe, 'gainſt whom theſe Armes we
Or adde a royall number to the dead :
Gracing the ſcroule that tels of this warres loffe,
With flaunder coupled to the name of Kings.

Baſt. Ha Majety: how high thy glory towres,
When the rich blood of Kings is fet on fire :
Oh now doth death line his dead chaps with ſteele,
The ſwords of ſoffouldiers are his teeth, his phangs,
And now he feaſts, mouſing the fleth of men
In undetermin'd differences of Kings.
Why ſtand theſe royall fronts amazed thus :
Cry havocke Kings, baſſe to the ſtained field
You equal Potents, fiery kindled ſpirits,
Then let conſuſion of one part conſirme
The others peace : till then, blowes, blood, and death.
John. Whose party doe the Townefinen yet admit ?

Fran. Speake Citizens for England, who's your King.
Hub. The King of England, when we know the King.
Fran. Know him in us, that here hold up his right.
John. In us, that are our owne great Deputy,
And beare poffeffion of our Perſon here,
Lord of our prefence Angiers, and if you.
Fran. A greater powre than We denies all this,
And till it be undoubted, we doe locke
Our former ſcruple in our ſtrong barr'd gates :
Kings of our ſare, untill our ſeares reſolv'd
Be by ſome certaine King, purg'd and depo'd.
Baſt. By heaven, theſe ſcroyles of Angiers flout you

And ſtand fecurely on their battellments,
As in a Theater, whence they gape and point
At your induſtrious Scenes and acts of death,
Your Royall preferences be rul'd by me,
Doe like the Mutines of Leruſalem,
Be friends a while, and both conjointly bend
Your sharpeſt Deeds of malice on this Towne.
By Baſt and Weſt let France and England mount
Their battering Canon charged to the mouthes,
Till their ſoute-fearing clamours have brauſ'd doore
The flinty ribbes of this contemptuous City,
I'de play inſeſtantly upon theſe lades,
Even till unfenced defolation
Leave them as naked as the vulgar ayre :
That done, diſſever your united strengts,
And part your mingled colours once againe,
Turne face to face, and bloody point to point :
Then in a moment Fortune ſhall cull forth
Out of one fide her happy Minion,
To whom in favour the ſhall give the day,
And kiffe him with a glorious victory :
How like you this wilde counſel mighty States,
Smackes it not ſomething of the policy?

John. Now by the sky that hangs above our heads,
I like it well. France, ſhall we knit our powers,
And lay this Angiers even with the ground,
Then after fight who ſhall be king of it?

Baſt. And if thou haſt the mettle of a King,
Being wrong'd as we are by this peeviſh Towne:
Turne thou the mouth of thy Artillery,
As we will ours, againſt theſe ſawcy walles,
And when that we have daſh'd them to the ground,
Why then defie each other, and pell-mell,
Make worke upon our ſelves, for heaven or hell.

Fran. Let it be ſo: ſay, where will you affaunt ?
John. We from the Weſt will ſend deſtruction
Into this Cites boſome.

Aſſt. I from the North.
Fran. Our thunder from the South,
Shall raine their drift of bullets on this Towne,
Baſt. O prudent diſcipline! From North to South:
Aſſt Virginia and France ſhoot in each others mouth,
Ile ſtire them to it: come, away, away.

Hub. Heare us great Kings, vouchſafe a while to ſay
And I ſhall ſhew you peace, and faire-fac'd league :
Win you this City without ſtroke, or wound,
Reſcue their breathing lives to dye in beds,
That here come facrifices for the field.

Perſever not, but heare me mighty Kings.

John. Speake on with favour, we are bent to heare.
Hub. That daughter there of Spaine, the Lady Blanche
Is neere to England, looke upon the yeeres
Of Lewis the Dolphin, and that lovely mayd.
If lufty love should goe in queſt of beauty,
Where

The Life and Death of King Iohn.

7

Where should he find it fairer, than in *Blanch*:
If zealous Love goe in farch of vertue,
Where should he find it purer than in *Blanch*:
If Love ambitious,fought a match of birth,
Whole veines bound richer bloud then *Lady Blanch*?
Such as he is,in beauty,verteue,birth,
Is the *yong Dolphin* every way compleat,
If not compleat of,fay he is not *fhe*,
And he againe wants nothing,to name want,
If want it be not, that *fhe* is not he:
He is the halfe part of a bleffed man,
Left to be finifhed by fuch as *fhe*,
And *fhe* faire divided excellence,
Whole fulneſſe of perſection lyes in him.

O two ſuch ſilver Currents when they joyne,
Dog gloriſe the bankes that bound them in:
And two ſuch ſhores,to two ſuch ſtreames made one,
Two ſuch controlling bounds ſhall you be, Kings,
To theſe two Princes,if you marry them:
This vion ſhall doe more than battery can,
To our faſt cloſed gates: for at this match,
With ſwitmer ſpleene than powder can enforce,
The mouth of paſſage ſhall we fling wide ope,
And give you entrance; but without this match,
The Sea enraged is not halfe ſo deafe,
Lyons more confident,Mountaines and Rocks,
More free from motion, no not death himſelfe
In mortall fury halfe ſo peremptory,
As we to keepe this Citie.

*Baſf.* Here's a ſtay.

That shakes the rotten carkaſſe of old death
Out of his ragges. Here's a large mouth indeed,
That ſpits forth death, and mountains,rocks,and ſeas,
Takes as familiarly of roaring Lyons,
As Maids of threethteen doc of Puppí-dogs.
What Cannoneere begot this luity bloud,
He ſpeakes plaine Cannon fire,and Imoake,and bounce,
He gives the Baſtinado with his tongue:
Our eares are cudgel'd, not a word of his
But buffers better than a ſift of France:
Zounds, I was never ſo bethumpt with words,
Since I firſt call'd my brothers father Dad.

*Old Qu. Son.* Lift to this conjunction, make this match,
Give with our Neece a dowry large enough,
For by this knot,thou ſhalt ſo furcly tye,
Thy now unfur'd affurranſe to the Crowne,
That yon greene Boy ſhall have no Sunne to ripe,
The bloome that promifetha mighty fruit,
I fee a yeeſing in the looks of France:
Marke how they whifper,urge them while their foules
Are capable of this ambition,
Leaſt zeale now melted by the windy breath
Of ſoft petitions, pitty and remorſe,
Coole and congeale againe to what it was.

*Hub.* Why anſwer not the double Maſſeſtles,
This friendly Treaty of our threatened towne:
*Fra.* Speake England firſt, that hath been forward firſt,
To ſpeake unto this Citie: what ſay you?

*John.* If that the Dolphin there thy Princely ſonne,
Can in this booke of beauty reade, I love:
Her Dowry ſhall weigh equall with a Queene,
For Angiers, and faire *Towaine, Maine, Poyſtiers*.
And all that we upon this ſide the Sea,
(Except this Citie now by us beſieg'd)
Find liable to our Crowne and dignity,
Shall gild her bridall bed and make her rich.

Intitles, honours, and promotions,
As *fhe* in beauty, education, bloud,
Holds hands with any Princeſſe of the world.

*Fra.* What ſay'ft thou Boy ? looke in the Ladies face.

*Dol.* I doe my Lord, and in her eye I find,
A wonder, or a wondrous miracle,
The ſhadow of my ſelfe form'd in her eye,
Which being but the ſhadow of your ſonne,
Becomes a ſonne, and makes your ſonne a ſhaddow :
I doe proteſt I never lov'd my ſelfe
Till now, infixed I beheld my ſelfe,
Drawne in the flattering table of her eye.

*Whispers with Blanch.*

*Baſſ.* Drawne in the flattering table of her eye,
Hang'd in the frowning wrinkle of her brow,
And quarter'd in her heart, he doth eſpie
Himſelſe Loves traitor; this is pitty now;
That hang'd and drawne, and quarter'd there ſhould be
In ſuch a love, ſo vile a Lout as he.

*Blan.* My Vncles will in this reſpect is mine,
If he ſee ought in you that makes him like,
That any thing he ſee's which moves his liking,
I can with eafe tranflate it to my will :
Or if you will, to ſpeake more properly,
I will enforce it eafe to my love.

Further I will not flatter you, my Lord,
That all I ſee in you is worthy love,
Than this, that nothing doe I ſee in you,
Though churliſh thoughts themſelſes ſhould be your
Iudge,
That I can find, ſhould merit any hate.

*John.* What ſay the ſe yong ones? What ſay you my
Neece?

*Blan.* That *fhe* is bound in honour ſtill to doe
What you in wifedome ſill vouchſaſe to ſay.

*John.* Speake then Prince *Dolphin*, can you love this
Lady?

*Dol.* Nay anſke me if I can reſfraine from love,
For I doe love her moſt unfaindeably.

*John.* Then doe I give *Volqueſſen, Toraine, Maine,*
*Poyſtiers, and Anjow*, theſe ſive Provinces
With her to thee, and this addition more,
Full thirty thouſand Markes of Englilh coyne ;

*Philip of France*, if thou be pleaſ'd withall,
Command thy ſonne and daughter to joyne hands.

*Fran.* It likes us well young Princes: cloſe your hands,
Auſt. And your lippes too, for I am well auſur'd,
That I did ſo when I was firſt a ſur'd.

*Fran.* Now Citizens of Angiers ope your gates,
Let in that amity which you have made,
For at Saints *Maries* Chappell prefently,
The rights of marriage ſhall be ſolemniz'd.
Is not the Lady *Conſtance* in this t rooſe ?
I know *fhe* is not for this match made up,
Her prefence would have interrupted much,
Where is *fhe* and her ſonne, tell me, who knowes?

*Dol.* She is ſad and paſſionate at your Highneſſe Tent.
*Fran.* And by my faith, this league that we have made,
Will give her ſadneſſe very little cure :
*Brother of England*, how may we content
This widow Lady ? In her right we came,
Which we God knowes, have turned another way,
To our owne vantage.

*John.* We will heale up all,
For weel I create yong *Arthur* Duke of *Britaine*
And Earle of *Richmond*, and this rich faire Towne

We

who's your King
I know the King
up his right,
Deputy,

es all this,
ou all this,

gates : I
ol'd
epoſd.
ngiers flout you
ts, (kings)
point:
death,

bend
Towne,
mount
nouthes,
rau'd downe
City,

h's,
ne,
point:
th

h's,
ne,
point:
th

h's,
ne,
point:
th

h's,
ne,
point:
th

 States,
 our heads,
powers,
nd,
King,
Towne:
les,
the ground,
or hell,
affault ?

r, the ground,
or hell.
affault ?

r, the ground,
or hell.
affault ?
uction

wne,
th to South
outh,

h while to ſay
league:
und,

nt to heare.
Lady *Blanch*

nt to heare.
Lady *Blanch*

Where

Actus Tertius, Scena prima.

Enter King John, France, Dolphin, Blanch, Elianor, Philip, Austria, Constance.

Fran. Tistruce (faire daughter) and this bleffed day,
Ever in France shall be kept feftiuall :
To folemnize this day the glorious funne
Stayes in his courfe, and playes the Alchymift,
Turning with ſplendor of his precious eye
The meager cloddy earth to glittering gold :
The yearly courfe that brings this day about,
Shall never fee it, but a holy day.

Conſt. A wicked day, and not a holy day.
What hath this day deteru'd? what hath it done,
That it in golden letters (should be fet
Among the high tides in the Kalender ?
Nay, rather turne this day out of the weeke,
Thisday of ſhame, oppreffion, perjury.
Or if it muſt ſtand itill, let wives with child
Pray that their burthens may not tall this day,
Left that their hopes prodigiously be croſt :
Bat (on this day) let Sea-men feare no wracke,
No bargaines breake that are not this day made;
This day all things begun, come to ill end,
Yea, faith it ſelſe to hollow falſhood change.

Fran. By heaven Lady, you ſhall have no cauſe
To curſe the faire proceedings of this day :
Have I not pawn'd to you my Majeſty?

Conſt. You have beguil'd me with a counterfeit
Reſembling Majeſty, which being touch'd and tride,
Proves valneſſe: you are forſworne, forſworne,
You came in Armes to ſpill mine enemies bloud,
But now in Armes, you ſtrengthen it with yours.
The graping vigor, and rough frowne of Warre
Iscoln in antity, and cold peace,
And our oppreſſion had made up this league :
Arme, arme, you heavens, against theſe perjur'd Kings,
A widow cries, be husband to me (heavens)
Let not the houres of this ungodly day
Weare out the dayes in peace: but ere Sun-ſet,
Sct armed diſcord to twixt theſe pc. :ur'd Kings,
Heare me, Oh, heare me.

Anſt. Lady Conſtance, peace.

Conſt. Warre, warre, no peace, peace isto me warre:
O Lymoges, O Aſtiria, thou doſt ſhame
That blonды ſpoile:thou ſtave,thou wretch,thou coward,
Thou little valiant, great in villany,

Thou ever ſtrong vpon the ſtronger fide;
Thou Fortunes Champion, that doſt never fight
But when her humourous Ladifhip is by
To teach thee safety: thou art perjur'd too,
And footh't up greatneſſe. What a foolde art thou,
A ramping foole, to brag, and flamp, and ſweare,
Vpon my party: thou cold blouded ſtave,
Haſt thou not ſpoke like thunder on my fide?
Beene ſworne my ſouldier, bidding me depend
Vpon thy ſtarres, thy fortune, and thy ſtrength,
And doſt thou now fall over to my foes?

Thou weare a Lyons hide? doſt it for ſhame,
And hang a Calves skin on thofe recreant limbes.

Anſt. O that a man ſhould ſpeake thofe words to me.

Phil. And hang a Calves skin on thofe recreant limbs.
Anſt. Thou dar'nt not ſay fo villaine for thy life.

Phil. And hang a Calves skin on thofe recreant limbs.
John. We like not this, thou doſt forget thy ſelſe.

Enter Pandulph.

Fran. Heere comes the holy Legat of the Pope.

Pau. Haile you annointed deputies of heaven ;
To thee King John my holy errand is :
I Pandulph, of faire Millane Cardinall,
And from Pope Innocent the Legate heere,
Doe in his name religion fly demand
Why thou againſt the Church, our holy Mother,
So wilfully doſt ſpurne; and force perſorce
Keepe Stephen Langton choſen Arſhbiſhop
Of Canterbury from that holy Sea :
This in our forefaid holy Father name
Pope Innocent, I doe demand of thee.

John. What carthy name to interrogatories
Can taſt the free breath of a facred King ?
Thou canſt not (Cardinall) devife a name
So flight, unworthy, and ridiculous
To charge me to an anſwer, as the Pope :
Tell him this tale, and from the mouth of England,
Adde thus much more, that no Italian Prieft
Shall tythe or toll in our dominions :
But as we, under heaven, are ſupreame head,
So under him that great ſupremacy
Where we doe reigne, we will alone uphold
Without th'affiſtance of a mortall hand :
So tell the Pope, all reverence fet apart
To him and his ſuſtirp'd authority.

Fran. Brother of Eagland, you blaspheme in this.

John. Though you, and all the Kings of Chriſtendome
Are led ſo groſſely by this medling Prieft,
Dreading the curſe that money may buy out,
And by the merit of vilde gold, droſſe, duſt,
Purchaſe corrupted pardon of a man,
Who in that tale ſels pardon from himſelſe :
Though you, and all the reſt ſo groſſely led,
This juggling witch-craft with revenue cheriſh,
Yet I alone, alone doe me oppoſe
Against the Pope, and count his friends my foes.

Pand. Then by the lawfull power that I have,
Thou ſhalt ſtand curlt, and excommunicate,
And bleſſed ſhall he be that doth revolt
From his Allegiance to an heretique,
And meritorious ſhall that hand be call'd,
Canonized and worſhipp'd as a Saint,
That takes away by any ſecret courſe
Thy hatefull life.

Conſt. O lawfull let it be
That I have roome with Rome to curſe a while,
Good Father Cardinall, cry thou Amen
To my keene curſes; for without my wrong
There is no tongue; that power to curſe him right.

Pan. There's law and warrant (Lady) for my curſe.
Conſt. And for mine too, when law can do no right.
Let it be lawfull, that Law barre no wrong :
Law cannot give my child his kingdome heere :
For he that holds his kingdome, holds the law :
Therefore ſince Law it ſelſe is perſect wrong,
How can the Law forbid my tongue to curſe?

Pand. Philip of France, on perill of a curſe,
Let goe the hand of that Arch-hereticque,
And raife the power of France upon his head,
Vnleſſe he doe ſubmit himſelfe to Rome.

Elea. Look'ft thou pale France? do not let go thy hand.

Conſt. Looke to that devill, left that France repent,

And

["The Life and Death of King John.", "10", "And by disioyning hands hell lofe a foule.", "*Auſt.* King Philip, liffen to the Cardinall.", "*Baſt.* And hang a Calves-skin on his recreant limbes.", "*Auſt.* Well ruffian, I muſt pocket up these wronges,\nBecause,", "*Baſt.* Your breeches beſt may carry them.", "*John.* Philip, what faitl thou to the Cardinall?", "*Con.* What should he ſay, but as the Cardinall?", "*Dolp.* Bethinke you father, for the difference", "Is purchase of a heavy curſe from Rome,", "Or the light loſſe of England, for a friend :\nForgoe the eſtier.", "*Blu.* That is the curſe of Rome.", "*Con.* O Lewis, ſtand faſt, the devill tempts thee heere\nIn likeneſſe of a new untrimmed Bride.", "*Blu.* The Lady Conſance ſpeakes not from her faith,\nBut from her need.", "*Conſt.* Oh, if thou grant my need,", "Which onely lives but by the death of faith,", "That need, muſt needs inſerre this principle,", "That faith would live againe by death of need :", "O then tread downe my need, and faith mounts up,", "Keepe my need up, and faith is trodden downe.", "*John.* The kind is moved, and anſwers not to this.", "*Conſi.* O be remov'd from him, and anſwer well:", "*Auſt.* Doe ſo king Philip, hang no more in doubt.", "*Baſt.* Hang nothing but a Calves-skin moſt sweet loue.", "*Fran.* I am perplext, and know not what to ſay.", "*Pan.* What canſt thou ſay, but will perſacle thee more?\nIf thou ſtand excommunicate, and curſe?", "*Fran.* Good reverend father, make my perſon yours,\nAnd tell me how you would beſtow your ſelfe?", "This royaſh hand, and mine are newly knit,", "And the conjunction of our inward foules", "Married in league, coupled, and link'd together", "With all religious ſtrength of ſacred vows:", "The lateſt breath that gave the ſound of words", "Was deepe ſworne faith, peace, amity, true love", "Betweene our kingdoms and our royaſl ſelves,", "And even before this truce, but new before,", "No longer than we well could waſh our hands,", "To clap this royaſl bargaine up of peace,", "Heaven knowes they were beſmeard and over-flained", "With flautchers penciſl; where revenge did paint", "The feareſull difference of incensed kings:", "And ſhall theſe hands ſo lately purg'd of bloud?", "So newly joyn'd in love ? ſo ſtrong in both,", "Vnyoke this ſeyſure, and this kind regreet?", "Play faſt and looſe with faith ? ſo jeſt with heaven,", "Make ſuch unconſtant children of our ſelves", "As now againe to ſnatch our palme from palme :", "Vn-ſweare faith ſworne, and on the marriage bed", "Of ſmiling peace to march a bloody hoaſt,", "And make a ryot on the gentle brow", "Of true ſincerity ? O holy fir", "My reverend father, let it not be ſo ;", "Out of your gracé, devife, ordaine, impoſe", "Some gentle order, and then we ſhall be bleſt", "To doe your pleasure, and continue friends.", "*Pan.* All forme is ſormeſſe, Order orderleſſe,\nSave what is oppoſite to Englands love.", "Therefore to Armes, be Champion of our Church,\nOr let the Church our mother breathe her curſe,\nA mothers curſe, on her revolting ſonne.", "*France.* thou maſt hold a ſerpent by the tongue,\nA caſed Lion by the mortall paw,", "A faſting Tyger ſaſer by the tooth,", "Than keepe in peace that hand which thou doſt hold.", "*Fran.* I may diſioyne my hand, but not my faith,\n*Fand.* So mak't thou faith an enemy to faith,", "And like a civili warre ſeſt oath to oath,", "Thy tongue againſt thy tongue. O let thy vow", "Firſt made to heaven, firſt be to heaven perform'd,", "That is, to be the Champion of our Church,", "What ſince thou ſwor't, is ſworne againſt thy ſelfe,", "And may not be performed by thy ſelfe,", "For that which thou haſt ſworne to doe amiffie,", "Is not amiffie when it is truly done :", "And being not done, where doing tends to ill,", "The truth is then moſt done not doing it:", "The better Act of purpoſes miſtooke,", "Iſ to miſtake againe, though indirect,", "Yet indirectness thereby growes direct,", "And falſehood, falſehood cures, as fire cooles fire", "Within the ſcorched veines of one new burn'd.", "It is religion that doth make vows kept,", "But that haſt ſworne againſt religion :", "By what thou ſwear't againſt the thing thou ſwear't,", "And mak'ſt an oath the ſurety for thy truth,", "Againſt an oath the truth, thou art unſure", "To ſwore, ſwears only not to be ſorſworne,", "Elſe what a mockery ſhould it be to ſwore ?", "But thou doſt ſwore, onely to be ſorſworne,", "And moſt ſorſworne, to keepe what thou doſt ſwore,", "Therefore thy later vows, againſt thy firſt,", "Is in thy ſelfe rebellion to thy ſelfe :", "And better conqueſt never canſt thou make,", "Than arme thy conſant and thy nobler parts", "Againſt theſe giddy looſe fuggeltions :", "Vpon which better part, our prais come in", "If thou vouchſaſe then. But if not, then know", "The perill of our curſes light on thee", "So heavy, as thou ſhalt not ſhake them off", "But in deſpaire, dye under thy blacke weight.", "*Auſt.* Rebellions, flat rebellion.", "*Baſt.* Wil't not be ?", "Will not a Calves-skin ſtop that mouth of thine ?", "*Daul.* Father, to Armes.", "*Blan.* Vpon thy wedding day ?", "Againſt the blood that thou haſt married ?", "What, shall our ſeaf be kept with flaut膏ered men?", "Shall braying trumpets, and loud churlihild drums", "Clamors of hell, be meaſures to our pompe ?", "O husband heare me: aye, alacke, how new", "Is husband in my mouth ? even for that name", "Which till this time my tongue did neere pronounce ;", "Vpon my knee I beg, goe not to Armes", "Againſt mine Vncle.", "*Conſt.* O, upon my knee made hard with kneeling,\nI doe pray to thee, thou vertuous *Daulphin*,\nAlter not the doome fore-thought by heaven.", "*Blan.* Now ſhall I fee thy love, what motive may\nBe ſtronger with thee, than the name of wife ?", "*Conſt.* That which upholdeth him, that thee upholds,\nHis honor, Oh thine honor, Lewis thine honor.", "*Dolp.* I muſe your Majefly doth ſeeme to ſold\nWhen ſuch profound reſpects doe pull you on ?", {"bbox": [731, 1241, 1023, 1263], "category": "

II

Bauf. Old Time the clocke fetter, that bald fexton Time:
Is it as he will? well then, *France* shall rue.

Bla. The Sun's orecaft with bloud : faire day adieu,
Which is the fide that I maift goe withall ?
I am with both, each Army hath a hand,
And in their rage, I having hold of both,
They whurle a-funder, and difmember me.

Husband, I cannot pray that thou maift winne :

Uncle, I needs muſt pray that thou maſt loſe :
Father, I may not with the fortune thine :

Grandam, I will not with thy wisheſthrive :
Who ever winnes, on that fide ſhall I loſe :

Aſſured loſe, before the match be plaid.

Dolph. Lady, with me, with me thy fortune lies.

Bla. There where my fortune lives, there my life dies.
Iohn. Cofen, goe draw our puifance together,

France, I am burn'd up with inflaming wrath,

Arage, whoſe heat hath this condition.

That nothing can allay, nothing but blood,

The blood and deereſt valued bloud of *France*.

Fran. Thy rage ſhall burne thy up, and thou ſhalt turne
To aſhes, ere our blood ſhall quench that fire :

Looke to thy ſelte, thou art in jeopardy.

Iohn. No more then he that threats. To Arms let's hie.

Exeunt.

## Scena Secunda.

Allarums. Excursions: Enter Bastard with *Austria's* head.

Bauf. Now by my life, this day grows wondrous hot,
Some aery devil hovers in the skie,

And pour's downe miſchieſe. *Austria's* head ly there,
*Enter Iohn, Arthur, Hubert.*

While Philip breathes.

Iohn. Hubert, keepe this boy! Philip make up,
My Mother is affaile in our Tent,
And tane I feare.

Bauf. My Lord I ſcruſed her.

Her Highneſſe is in faſety, ſeare you not :

But on my Leige, for very little paines

Will bring this labour to an happy end.

Exit.

Allarums, excursions. Retreat. Enter Iohn, *Eleanor, Arthur, Baſtard, Hubert, Lords*,

Iohn. So ſhall it be : your grace ſhall ſay behind

So strongly guarded : Cofen, looke not ſad,
Thy Grandame loves thee, and thy Vnkle will

As deere be to thee, as thy father was.

Arth. O this will make my mother die with griefe.

Iohn. Cofen away for England, haſte before,
And ere our comming fee thou ſake the bags.

Of hoording Abbots, impriſoned angels

Set at liberty : the fat ribs of peace

Muſt by the hungry now be fed upon :

Vſe our commiſion in his utmoſt force.

Bauf. Bell, Booke, and Candle, ſhall not drive me backe,
When gold and filer becks me to come on.

I leave your highneſſe : Grandame, I will pray
(If ever I remember to be holy)

For your faire faſety : ſo I kiffe your hand.

Ele. Farewell gentle Cofen.

Iohn. Coz, farewell.

Ele. Come hether little kinfman, harke, a word,

Iohn. Come hether Hubert. O my gentle Hubert,
We owe thee much : within this wall of fleſh
There is a ſoule counts thee her Creditor,

And with advantage means to pay thy love :

And my good friend, thy voluntary oath

Lives in this boſome, deereely cheriſhed.

Give me thy hand, I had a thing to ſay,

But I will fit it with ſome better tunc.

By heaven Hubert, I am almoſt aſham'd

To ſay what good reſpect I have of thee.

Hub. I am much bounden to your Majeſty.

Iohn. Good friend, thou haſt no cauſe to ſay ſo yet,
But thou ſhalt have : and creepe time neere ſo flow,
Yet it ſhall come, for me to doe theſe good.

I had a thing to ſay, but let it goe :

The Sunne is in the heaven, and the proud day,

Attended with the pleaſures of the world,

Is all too wanton, and too full of gawdes.

To give me audience ; if the midnight bell

Did with his iron tongue, and brazen mouth

Sound on into the drowzy race of night :

If this fame were a Church-yard where we ſland,

And thou poſſed with a thouſand wrongs :

Or if that ſurly ſpirit melancholy

Had bak'd thy bloud, and made it heavy, thicke,

Which eſle runnes tichling up and downe the veines,

Making that idiot laughter keepe meſt eyes,

And ſtraine their checkes to idle merriment.

A paſſion hatefull to my purpofes :

Or if that thou couldt fee me without eyes,

Heare me without thine eares, and make reply

Withouſa tongue, uſing conceit alone,

Without eyes, eares, and harmeſull found of words :

Then, in deſpight of brooded watchfull day,

I would into thy boſome poure my thoughts :

But (ah) I will not, yet I love thee well,

And by my troth I think e thou louſt me well.

Hub. So well, that what you bid me undertake,
Though that my death were adjunct to my Act,
By heaven I would doe it.

Iohn. Do not I know thou wouldſt?

Good Hubert, Hubert, Hubert, throw thine eye

On yon young boy : Ile tell thee what my friend,

He is a very ſerpent in my way,

And wherefore this foot of mine doth tread,

He lyes before me : doſt thou underſtand me ?

Thou art his keeper.

Hub. And ile keepe him ſo,

That he ſhall not offend your Majeſty:

Iohn. Death.

Hub. My Lord.

Iohn. A Grave.

Hub. He ſhall not live.

Iohn. Enough.

I could be merry now, Hubert, I love thee.

Well, Ile not ſay what I intend for thee :

Remember : Madam, fare you well.

Ile ſend thole powers o're to your Majeſty.

Ele. My bleſſing goe with thee.

Iohn. For England Cofen, goe.

Hubert ſhall be your man, attend on you

With all true ducty : on toward Calice, hoa.

Exeunt.

Scena

["The Life and Death of King Iohn.", "## Scena Tertia.", "Enter France, Dolphin, Pandupho, Attendants.", "Fra. So by a roaring Tempeft on the flood,\nA whole Armado of convicted faile", "Is scattered and disjoyned from fellow ship.", "Pand. Courage and comfort, all shall yet goe well.", "Fran. What can goe well, when we have runne so ill?", "Are we not beaten ? Is not Angiers loft ?", "Arthur tane prifonner ? divers deere friends flaine ?", "And bloudy England into England gone,", "Ore-bearing interruption (fight of France) ?", "Dol. What he hath won, that hath he fortified :", "So hot a speed, with such advice (dis)po'd,", "Such temperate order in so fierce a caufe,", "Doth want example : who hath read, or heard", "Of any kindred-action like to this ?", "Fran. Well could I beare that England had this prieſe,", "So we could finde some patterne of our ſhame.", "Enter Conſtance.", "Looke who comes here ? a grave unto a foule,\nHolding ch'eternall (fpirit againſt her will,", "In'the vilde prifon of afflicted breath :", "I prethee Lady goe away with me.", "Conſt. Lo, now: now fee the effue of your peace.", "Fran. Patience good Lady, comfort genile, Conſtance.", "Conſt. No, I defie all counſell, all redreſſe,", "But that which ends all counſell, true redreſſe :", "Death, death, O amiable, lovely death,", "Thou odoriferous (ſtench) : found rottenneſſe,", "Arife forth from the couch of laſting night,", "Thou hate and terror to prosperity,", "And I will kiffe thy deteſtable bones.", "And put my eyeballs in thy vaulty browes,", "And ring theſe fingers with thy houſhold wormes,", "And (flop this gap of) breath with fulſome duſt,", "And be a Carrion Monster like thy ſelfe ;", "Come, grin on me, and I will thinke thou ſmil'ſt,", "And buffle thee as thy wife; Miſeries love,", "O come to me.", "Fran. O faire affliction, peace.", "Conſt. No, no, I will not, having breath to cry :", "O that my tongue were in the thunders month,\nThen with a paffion I would ſhake the world,", "And rowze from (fleece) that fell Anatomy", "Which cannot heare a Ladies feeble voyce,", "Which ſcornes a moderne invocation.", "Pand. Lady, you utter madneſſe, and not ſorrow.", "Conſt. Thou art holy to belye me (ſo,", "I am not mad : this haire I teare is mine,\nMy name is Conſtance, I was Geſſreyes wife,", "Yong Arthur is my ſonne, and he is loft :", "I am not mad, I would to heaven I were,", "For then'tis like I should forget my ſelfe :", "O, if I could, what grieſe should I forget ?", "Preach some Philofophy to make me mad,", "And thou (halt) be Canoniz'd (Cardinal)", "For, being not mad, but ſenible of greeſe,", "My reaſonable part produces reaſon", "How I may be deliuer'd of theſe woes,", "And teaches me to kill or hang my ſelfe :", "If I were mad, I should forget my ſonne,", "Or madly thinke a babe of clowts were he ;", "I am not mad : too well, too well I feele", "The different plague of each calamity.", "Fran. Bind up theſe trefſes : O what love I note", "In the faire multitude of theſe her haires ;", "Where but by chance a filver drop hath faile,", "Even to that drop ten thouſand wiery fiends", "Doe glew themſelves in ſociable grieſe,", "Like true, inſeparable, faithfull loves,", "Sticking together in calamity.", "Conſt. To England, if you will.", "Fran. Bind up your haires.", "Conſt. Yes that I will : and wherefore will I do it?", "I tore them from their bonds, and cride aloud,", "O, that theſe hands could (ſo) redeem my ſonne,", "As they have given theſe hayres their liberty :", "But now I envy at their liberty,", "And will againe commit them to their bonds,", "Becaſſe my poore child is a prifoner.", "And father Cardinall, I have heard you ſay", "That we (hall) fee and know our friends in heaven :", "If that be true, I (hall) fee my boy againe :", "For ſince the birth of (Caine), the firſt male-child", "To him that did but yefterday ſuſpire,", "There was not ſuch a gracious creature borne :", "But now will Canker-forrow eate my bud,", "And chafe the native beauty from his cheeke,", "And he will looke as hollow as a Ghoſt,", "As dim and meager as an Aques (ſit),", "And fo hee'll dye : and riling (ſo) againe,", "Vhen I (hall) meet him in the Court of heaven", "I (hall) not know him : therefore never, never", "Muſt I behold my pretty Arthur more.", "Pand. You hold too heynous a reſpect of greeſe.", "Conſt. He talkeſt to me, that never had a ſonne.", "Fran. You are as fond of greeſe, as of your child.", "Conſt. Greeſe ſiks the roome up of my abſent child:", "Lyes in his bed, walkes up and downe with me,", "Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words,", "Remembers me of all his gracious parts,", "Stuffes out his vacant garments with his ſorme;", "Then, have I reaſon to be ſond of grieſe ?", "Fare you well : had you ſuch a lofſe as I,", "I could give better comfort than you doe.", "I will not keepe this ſorme upon my head,", "When there is ſuch diforder in my witt :", "O Lord, my boy, my Arthur, my faire ſonne,", "My life, my joy, my food, my all the world :", "My widow-comfort, and my ſorrowes cure.", "Fran. I feare ſome outrage, and ile follow her.", "Dol. There's nothing in this world can make me joy.", "Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale.", "Vexing the dull eare of a drowſe man ;", "And bitter ſhame hath (ſpoyl'd) the ſweet words (ſalle,", "That it yeelds nought but ſhame and bitterneſſe.", "Pand. Before the curing of a ſtrong (dife)ſale,", "Even in the inſant of repaire and health,", "The fit is ſtrongerſt : evils that take leave", "On their departure, moſt of all ſhew (e)vil :", "What have you loſt by (loſing) of this day ?", "Dol. All dayes of glory, joy, and happineſſe.", "Pand. If you had won it, certainly you had.", {"bbox": [696, 1269

14

If heaven be pleaf'd that you muft ufe me ill,
Why then you muft. Will you put out mine eyes?
These eyes, that never did, nor never shall
So much as frowne on you.

Hub. I have fworne to doe it :

And with hot Irons muft I burne them out.

Mr. Ah, none but in this Iron Age, would doe it:
The Iron of it felfe, though heate red hot,
Approaching neere thefe eyes, would drinke my teares,
And quench this fiery indignation,
Even in the matter of mine innocence :
Nay, after that, confume away in ruft,
But for containing fire to harme mine eye:
Are you more flubborne hard, than hammer'd Iron ?
And if an Angell should have come to me,
And told me Hubert should put out mine eyes,

I would not have beleev'd him : no tongue but Huberts.

Hub. Come forth: Doe as I bid you doe.

Mr. O fave me Hubert, fave me: my eyes are out

Even with the fierce lookes of thefe bloody men.

Hub. Give me the Iron I fay, and bind him heere.

Art. Alas, what need you be fo boiftrous rough ?

I will not wruggle, I will stand fteand ftil :
For heaven fake Hubert let me not be bound :

Nay heare me Hubert, drive thefe men away,
And I will fit as quiet as a Lamb.

I will not fire, nor wince, nor fpeake a word,
Nor looke upon the Iron angerly :

Thrift but thefe men away, and Ile forgive you,
What ever torment you doe put me too.

Hub. Goe stand within: let me alone with him!

Exec. I am beſt pleaf'd to be from ſuch a deed.

Art. Alas, I then have chid away my friend,

He hath a ſterne looke, but a gentle heart :
Let him come backe, that his compaffion may

Give life to yours.

Hub. Come (Boy) prepare your ſelfe.

Art. Is there no remedy ?

Hub. None, but to loſe your eyes.

Art. O heaven: that there were but a moth in yours,

A graiſe, a duſt, a gnat, a wandering haire,

Any annoyance in that precious ſenſe :

Then feeling what ſmall things are boyſterous there

Your vilde intent muſt needs ſeeue horrible.

Hub. Is this your promife? Go too, hold your tongue.

Art. Hubert, the utterance of a brace of tongues,

Muſt needs want pleading for a paire of eyes :

Let me not hold my tongue : let me not Hubert,

Or Hubert, if you will cut out my tongue,

So I may keepe mine eyes. O ſpare mine eyes,
Though to no uſe, but fill to looke on you.

Loe, by my troth, the inſtrument is cold,
And would not harme me.

Hub. I can heate it, boy.

Art. No, in good ftooth: the fire is dead with graiſe,
Being create for comfort, to be uſ'd

In undeferred extreameſ : See eſſe your ſelfe,

There is no malice in this burning cole,

The breath of heaven, hath blowne his ſpirit out,
And ſtrew'd repentant aſhes on his head.

Hub. But with my breath I can revine it Boy.

Art. And if you doe, you will but make it bluſh,
And glow with ſhame of your proceedings, Hubert :
Nay, it perchance will ſparkle in your eyes :
And, like a dogge that is compell'd to fight,
Snatch at his Maſter that doth tarre him on.

All things that you should uſe to doe me wrong
Deny their office: onely you doe lacke:
That mercy, which fierce fire, and Iron extends,
Creatures of note for mercy, lacking aſes.

Hub. Well, fee to live: I will not touch thine eye,
For all the Treſure that thine Vnckle owes,
Yet am I fworne, and I did purpofe, Boy,
With this fame very Iron, to burne them out:

Art. O now you looke like Hubert. All this while
You were diſguſ'd.

Hub. Peace: no more. Adieu,

Your Vnckle muſt not know but you are dead.

Ile fill theſe dogged Spies with ſalſe reports :
And, pretty child, ſleepe doubleſleſe, and ſecure,
That Hubert for the wealth of all the world,
Will not offend thee.

Art. O heaven ! I thanke you Hubert.

Hub. Silence, no more: goe cloſely in with me.

Much danger doe I undergo for thee.

Exemt.

## Scena Secunda.

Enter John, Pembroke, Salisbury, and other lords.

John. Heere once againe we fit : once againſt crown'd
And look'd upon, I hope, with chearefull eyes.

Pem. This once againe (but that your highneſſe pleaf'd)
Was once ſuperfluous : you were Crown'd before,
And that high Royalty was ne're pluck'd off:
The faiths of men, ne're flained with revolt:
Fresh expectation troubled not the Land
With any long'd-for-change, or better State.

Sal. Therefore, to be poffeſt'd with double pompe,
To guard a Title, that was rich before :
To gild refined gold, to paint the Lilly :
To throw a perfume on the Violet,
To fmooth the yce, or adde another hew
Vnto the Raine-bow ; or with Taper-light
To feele the beauteous eye of heaven to garniſh,
Is waſtefull, and ridiculous exceſſe.

Pem. But that your Royall pleasure muſt be done,
This aſte is as an ancient tale new told,
And, in the laſt repeating, troubleſome,
Being urged at a time unfeaſonable.

Sa'. In this the Anticke, and well noted ſace
Of plaine old forme, is much disſigred,
And like a chifſed winde unto a ſaile,
It makes the courſe of thoughts to fetch about,
Startles, and frights confideration :
Makes found opinion ſicke, and truth ſuſpect'd.
For putting on ſo new a fashion'd robe.

Pem. When workemen ſtrive to doe better than well,
They doe confound their skill in covetouſneſſe,
And oftentimes excufing gſ, a fault,
Doth make the fault the worſe by the excuſe :
As patches fet upon a little breach,
Diſcredite more in hiding of the fault,
Than did the fault before it was ſo patch'd,

Sal. To this effect, before you were new crown'd
We breath'd our Councell: but it pleaf'd your highneſſe
To over-beare it, and we are all well pleaf'd,
Since all, and every part of what we would
Doth make a ſtand, at what your highneſſe will,

John.

Ioh. Some reafons of this double Coronation
I have poffeſt you with, and thinke them ſtrong.

And more, more ſtrong, then leſſe is my ſeare
I ſhall induc you with : Meane time, but aske
What you would have reform'd, that is not well,
And well ſhall you perſeive, how willingly
I will both heare, and grant you your requeſts:

Pem. Then I, as one that am the tongue of theſe
To found the purpofes of all their hearts,
Both for my ſelſe, and them : but chieſe of all
Your ſafetie : for the which, my ſelſe and them

Bend their belt, fludies, heartily requeſt
Th' infranchiſement of Arthur, whoſe reſraint
Doth move the murmuring lips of diſcontent

To breake into this dangerous argument.
If what in reſt you have, in right you hold,

Why then your ſeares, which (as they ſay) attend
The ſteppes of wrong, ſhould move you to mew up
Your tender kinfman, and to choake his dayes
With barbarous ignorance, and deny his youth
The rich advantage of good exerciſe,
That the times enemies may not have this
Tograce occafions : let it be our ſuite,
That you have bid us aske your liberty,
Which for our goods, we doe no further aske,
Than, whereupon our weale on you depending,
Counts it your weale : he have his liberty.

Enter Hubert.

Iohn. Let it be ſo: I doe commit his youth

To your direction : Hubert, what newes with you ?

Pem. This is the man should doe the bloody deed :
He hew'd his warrant to a friend of mine,

The image of a wicked heynous ſault

Lives in his eye : that cloſe aſpect of his,
Doe ſhew the mood of a much troubled braſſe,

And I doe fearefully beleeve 'tus done,

What we to ſeard he had a charge to doe.

Sal. The colour of the King doth come, and goe,
Betweene his purpofe and his confidence,

Like Heralds 'twixt two dreadfull battailes ſet :

Hispaſſion is ſo ript, it needs muſt breake.

Pem. And when it breaks, I ſeare will iſſue thence
The foule corruption of a ſwect childeſs death.

Iohn. We cannot hold mortaliities ſtrong hand.

Good lords, although my will to give, is living,

The ſuite which you demand is gone, and dead.

Hetels us Arthur is deceaſ'd to night.

Sal. Indeed we ſeard his ſickneſſe was paſt cure.

Pem. Indeed we heard how neere his death he was,

Before the child himſelfe felt he was ſicke ;

This muſt be anſwer'd either heere, or hence.

Iohn. Why doe you bend ſuch ſolennie browes on me ?

Thinke you I beare the Sheeres of deſliny ?

Have I commandement on the pulſe of life ?

Sal. It is apparent foule-play, and 'tis ſhame

That greateneſſe should ſo groſſely offer it ;

So thrive it in your game, and to farewell.

Pem. Stay yet (lord Salisbury) Ile goe with thee,

And find th' inheritance of this poore child,
His little kingdome of a forced grave.

That blood which ow'd the bredth of all this Ile,
Three foot of it doth hold ; bad world the while :
This muſt be not thus borne, this will brakee out

To all our forrowes, and ere long I doubt.

Iohn. They burne in indignation : I repent : Enter Mef.

There is no ſure foundation ſet on blood :

No certaine life atchien'd by others death :

A ſearefull eyethou haſt. Where is that blood,

That I have ſeene inhabite in thofe cheekes?

So ſoule a skie, cleeres not without a ſtorme,

Poure downe thy weather : how goes all in France ?

Mef. From France to England, never ſuch a powre

For any forraigne preparation,
Was levied in the body of a land.

The Copy of your ſpeed is learn'd by them :

For when you ſhould be told they doe prepare,

The tydings comes, that they are all arriu'd.

Ioh. Oh where hath our intelligence beene drunke ?

Where hath it ſlept ? Where is my Mothers care ?

That ſuch an Army could be drawn in France,

And ſhe not heare of it ?

Mef. My Leige, her care

Is flopt with duſt : the firſt of Apill di'de

Your noble mother ; and as I heare, my lord,

The Lady Constance in a frenzie di'de

Three dayes before : but this from Rumors tongue

I idely heard : if true, or falſe I know not.

Iohn. Withhold thy ſpeed, dreadfull occafion :

O make a league with me, 'till I have pleaſt

My diſcontented Peeres. What ? Mother dead ?

How wildly then walkes my Eſtate in France ?

Vnder whole conduct came thofe powers of France,

That thou for truth giv'd out are landed heere ?

Mef. Vnder the Dolphin.

Enter Bastard, and Peter of Pomfret,

Iohn. Thou haſt made me giddy

With theſe ill tydings : Now ? What ſayes the world

To your proceedings ? Doe not feeke to fluffe

My head with more ill newes : for it is full.

Bast. But if you be aſcard to heare the worſt,

Then let the worſt unh heard, fall on your head.

Iohn. Beare with me Cofen, for I was amaz'd

Vnder the tide ; but now I breath againe

Aloft the flood, and can give audience

To any tongue, ſpeake it of what it will.

Bast. How I have ſped among the Clergy men,

The ſummes I have collected ſhall expreſſe :

But as I travail'd hither through the land,
I find the people ſtrangely fantafied,

Poffeſt with rumors, full of idle dreames,

Not knowing what they ſeare, but full of ſeare.

And here's a Prophet that I brought with me

From forth the ſtreets of Pomfret, whom I found

With many hundreds treading on his heeles :

To whom he ſung in rude harth founding rimes,

That ere the next Aſcenſion day at noone,

Your highneſſe ſhould deliver up your Crowne.

Ioh. Thou idle Dreamer, wherefore didſt thou ſo ?

Pet. Fore-knowing that the truth will fall out ſo.

Ioh. Hubert, away with him : imprifon him,

And on that day at noone, whereon he ſayes

I ſhall yeeld up my Crowne, let him be hang'd.

Deliver him to faſety, and returne,

For I muſt uſe thee. O my gentle Cofen,

Hear't thou the newes abroad, who are arriu'd ?

Baff. The French (my lord) mens mouths are ſul of it:

Befides I met lord Bigot, and lord Salisbury

With eyes as red as new enkindled fire,

And others more, going to ſeeke the grave

Of Arthur, whom they ſay is kill'd to night, on your

Iohn. Gentle kinfman, goe

(luggession.

And thrust thy ſelſe into their Companies,

b 2

I

16

I have a way to winne their loves againe :
Bring them before me.

Bast. I will feeke them out.

John. Nay, but make haſte: the better foot before.

O, let me have no ſubjects enemies,
When adverſe Forreyners affright my Townes
With dreadfull pompe of ſlout invasion.

Be Mercury, fet feathers to thy heeles,
And flye (like thought) from them, to me againe.

Bast. The ſpirit of the time ſhall teach me ſpeed. Exit.

John. Spoke like a ſrightfull Noble Gentleman.

Goe after him: for he perhaps ſhall need

Some Meflenger betwixt me, and the Peeres,
And be thou he.

Mef. With all my heart, my Liege.

John. My mother dead ?

Enter Hubert.

Hub. My lord, they lay five Moones were ſcene to

Foure fixed, and the fifth did whirle about (night)
The other foure, in wondrous motion.

John. Five Moones ?

Hub. Old men, and Beldames, in the streets

Doe propheſe upon it dangerously :

Yong Artours death is common in their mouths,
And when they talke of him, they ſhake their heads,
And whifper one another in the ear.

And he that ſpeakes, doth gripe the hearers wrift,
Whilft he that heares, makes fearfull action
With wrinkled browes, with nods, with rolling eyes.

I faw a Smith ſtand with his hammer (thus)

The whilft his Iron did on the Anvile coole,
With open mouth ſwallowing a Taylors newes,
Who with his Sheeres, and Meaſure in his hand,

Standing on flippers, which his nimble haſte
Had falſely thritt upon contrary feete,
Told of a many thouſand warlike French,
That were embattailed, and rank'd in Kent.

Another leane, unwaſh'd Artificer,

Cuts off his taine, and talks of Artours death.

Ioh. Why feek't thou to poſſeſe me with theſe ſteares?

Why urget thon ſo oft yong Artours death?

Thy hand hath murdred him : I had a mighty caufe
To wifh him dead, but thou hadſt none to kill him.

H.No had (my lord?) why, did you not provoke me?

John. It is the curſe of Kings, to be attended

By ſlaves, that take their humors for a warrant,
To breake the bloody houſe of life,

And on the winking of Authority

To underſand a Law; to know the meaning

Of dangerous Majefty, when perchance it trownes

More upon humor, than advil'd reſpect.

Hub. Heree is your hand and Seale for what I did.

Ioh. Oh, when the laſt accompt twixt heaven and earth

Is to be made, then ſhall this hand and Seale
Witneſſe against uſto damnation.

How oft the fight of meanes to doe ill deeds,
Make deeds ill done? Had'ft not thou beene by,
A fellow by the hand of Nature mark'd,

Quoted, and ſign'd to doe a deed of ſhame,
This murther had not come into my mind.

But taking note of thy abhorr'd Aspect,
Finding the ſit for bloody villany :

Apt, liable to be employ'd indanger,

I faintly broke with thee of Artours death :
And thou, to be endeered to a King,

Made it no confidence to deftroy a Prince.

Hub. My lord.

Ioh. Had'ft thou but ſhooke thy head, or made a pauls
When I ſpake darkely, what I purpofed :

Or turn'd an eye of doubt upon my ſace ;

As bid me tell my tale in exprefle words :

Deepe ſhame had ſtruck me dumbe, made me breake off,
And thofe thy ſeares, might have wrongt ſeares in me.

But, thou didſt underſand me by my lignes,
And didſt in ſignes againe parley with finne,
Yea, without ſtop, didſt let thy heart content,
And conſequently, thy rude hand to acte

The deed, which both our tongues held vild to name
Out of my fight, and never ſee me more :

My Nobles leave me, and my State is braved,
Even at my gates, with rankes of forraigne powres ;
Nay, in the body of this fiefly Land,

This kingdome, this Conſine of blood, and breathe
Hoſtility, and civiltumult reignes

Betweene my confidence, and my Cofins death.

Hub. Arme you againſt your other enemies :

Ile make a peace betweene your ſoule, and you,

Yong Arthur is alive : This hand of mine

Is yet a maiden, and an innocent hand,

Not painted with the Crimſon ſpots of blood;

Within this boſome, never entred yet
The dreadfull motion of a murderous thought,

And you have flander'd Nature in my ſorme,

Which howſever rude exteriorly,

Is yet the cover of a ſayrer mind,

Than to be butcher of an innocent child.

Iohn. Doth Arthur live ? O haſt thee to the Peeres,
Throw this report on their incenſed rage,
And make them tame to their obedience.

Forgive the Comment that my paſſion made

Vpon thy ſeature, for my rage was blind,

And ſoule imaginary eyes of blood

Preſented thee more hideous than thou art.

Oh, anſwer not ; but to my Cloſet bring,

The angry Lords, with all expedient haſt,

I conjure thee but flowly : run more taſt.

Exeunt.

## Scena Tertia.

Enter Arthur on the wall.

Ar. The wall is high, and yet will I leape downe.

Good ground be pitiful, and hurt me not :
There's few or none that know me, if they did,

This Ship-boyes ſemblance hath diſguſ'd me quite.

I am afraid, and yet Ile venture it.

If I get downe, and doe not breake my limbes,

Ile find a thouſand shifts to get away ;

As good to dye, and goe ; as dye, and ſtay.

Oh me, my Vnckles ſpirit is in theſe ſtones,

Heaventake my ſoule, and England keepe my bones, Die

Enter Pembrooke, and Salisbury, and Bigot.

Sal. Lords, I will meet him at Saint Edmondsbury,
It is our safety, and we must embrace
This gentle offer of the perilous time.

Pem. Who brought that Letter from the Cardinal?

Sal. The Count Melloone, a Noble lord of France,
Whose private with me of the Dolphines love,
Is much more generall, than theſe lines import.

Bigot.

17

Big. To morrow morning let us meete him then.
Sal. Or rather then let forward, for 'twill be
Two long dayes journey (lords) or ere we meete.
Enter Baſtard.

Baſt. Once more to day well met, distemper'd lords,
The King by me requeſts your preſence ſtraight.

Sal. The King hath diſpoſeſt himſeſſe of us,
We will not lyne his thin-befained clake
With our pure Honors: nor attend the foote
That leaves the print of blood where ere it walkes.

Returne, and tell him ſo: we know the worſt. (beſt.

Baſt. What ere you thinke, good words I thinke were

Sal. Our greifes, and not our manners reaſon now.

Baſt. But there is little reaſon in your griefe.

Therefore 'twere reaſon you had manners now.

Pem. Sir, fir, impatience hath his privilege.

Baſt. 'Tisrard, to hurt his matter, no man eſſe.

Sal. This is the prion: What is he lyes here ?

P. Oh death made proud with pure and princely beaſt.

The earth had not a hole to hide this deed.

Sal. Murther, as hating what himſeſſe hath done,

Doth lay it open to urge on revenge.

Big. Or when he doom'd this beauty to a grave, I
Found it too precious Princely, for a grave.

Sal. Sir Richard, what thinke you ? you have beheld,
Or have you read, or heard, or could you thinke ?

Or do you almoſt thinke, although you ſee,
That you doe ſee ? could thought, without this object
Forme ſuch another ? this is the very top,

The heighth, the Creſt: or Creſt unto the Creſt
Of murthers Armes: this is the bloodieſt ſhame,
The wildeſt Savagery, the vildeſt ſtroke

That ever wall-cy'd wrath, or ſtaring rage
Prefented to the teares of ſoft remorſe.

Pem. All murtherers paſt, doe ſtand excuſ'd in this :

And thiso' ſole, and ſo unmatchable,

Shall give a holineſſe, a purity,

To the yet unbegotten ſinne of times ;

And prove a deadly blood-tied, but a jeſt,

Example'd by this heynous ſpectacle.

Baſt. It is a damned, and a bloody worke,
The graceleſſe action of a heavy hand,
If that it be the worke of any hand.

Sal. If that it be the worke of any hand ?
We hada kind of light, what would enfue :
It is the ſhamefull worke of Huberts hand,
The practice, and the purpofe of the King :
From whoſe obedience I forbid my ſoule,
Kneeling before this ruine of ſweet life,

And breathing to the breathleſſe excellence
The incenſe of a Vow, a holy Vow :
Never to taſſe the pleafures of the world,

Never to be inſected with delight,
Nor converſant with Eaſe, and idlenſe,

Till I have ſet a glory to this hand,
By giving it the worſhip of Revenge.

Pem. Big. Our ſoules religiously confirme thy words.
Enter Hubert

Hub. Lords, I am hot with haſte, in feeking you,
Arthur doth live, the King hath ſent for you.

Sal. Oh he is bold, and bluſhes not at death:
Avant thou haſte full villaine, get thee gone.

Hub. I am no villaine.

Sal. Muſt I rob the Law.

Baſt. Your ſword is bright fir, put it up againe.

Sal. Not till I sheath it in a murtherers skin.

Hub. Stand backe lord Salfbury, ſtand backe I lay
By heaven, I thinke my ſword's as ſharpe as yours.
I would not have you (lord) forget your ſelfe,
Nor tempt the danger of my true defence ;

Leaſt I by marking of your rage, forget

Your Worth, your Greatneſſe, and Nobility.

Big. Out dunghill: dar'ſt thou brave a Nobleman ?
Hub. Not for my life: but yet I dare defend

My innocent life againſt an Emperor.

Sal. Thou art a Murtherer.

Hub. Doe not prove me ſo :

Yet I am none. Whofe tongue ſo ere ſpeakes ſalſe,
Not truly ſpeakes : who ſpeakes not truly, Lies.

Pem. Cut him to peeces.

Baſt. Keepe the peace, I lay.

Sal. Stand by, or I ſhall gaul you Faulconbridge.

Baſt. Thou wert better gaul the divel, Salfbury.

If thou but frowne on me, or ſtrre thy ſoote,
Or teach thy haſty ſpleene to doe me ſhame,
Ile ſtrike thee dead. Put up thy ſword betime,

Or Ile ſo maule you, and your toſting-Iron,

That you ſhall thinke the divel is come from hell.

Big. What wift thou doe, renowned Faulconbridge?

Second a Villaine, and a Murtherer?

Hub. Lord Bigot, I am none.

Big. Who kill'd this Prince?

Hub. 'His not an houre ſince I left him well :

I honour'd him, Ilov'd him, and will weepe

My date of life out, for his ſweet lives loffe.

Sal. Truſt not thofe cunning waters of his eyes,

For villanie is not without ſuch rheume,

And he, long traded in it, makes it ſeeme

Like Rivers of remorſe and innocency.

Away with me, all you whoſe ſoules abhorre

Th'uncleanely favour of a ſlaughter-houſe,

For I am ſtified with this ſmelt of finne.

Big. Away, toward Bary, to the Dolphin there.

P. There tell the King, he may inquire us out. Ex. Lords.

Ba. Here's a good world: knew you of this faire worke?

Beyond the infinite and boundleſſe reach of mercy,
(If thou didſt this deed of death) art thou damn'd Hubert.

Hub. Doe but heare me fir.

Baſt. Ha ? Ile tell thee what,

Thou'rt damn'd as blacke, in any nothing is ſo blacke,

Thou art more deepe damn'd than Prince Lucifer.

There is not yet ſo ugly a fiend of hell

As thou ſhalt be, if thou didſt kill this child.

Hub. Vpon my ſoule.

Baſt. If thou didſt but conſent

To this moſt cruell Act: doe but deſpair?

And if thou want't a Cord, the ſmallest thred

That ever Spider twiſted from her wombe

Will ſerve to ſtrangle thee : A ruff will be a beame

To hang thee on. Or wouldſt thou drowne thy ſelfe,

Put but a little water in a spoone,

And it ſhall be as all the Ocean,

Enough to ſtifle such a villaine up.

I doe ſulpeſt thee very greivouſly.

Hub. If I in act, conſent, or finne of thought,

Be guilty of the ſleating that ſweet breath

Which was embounded in this beauteous clay,

Let hell want paines enough to torture me :

I left him well.

Baſt. Goe, beare him in thine armes :

I am amaz'd me thinkes, and ſooſe my way

Among the thornes, and dangers of this world.

b3

How

18

How eafe doft thou take all England up,
From forth this morcell of dead Royalty ?
The life, the right, and truth of all this Realme
Is fled to heaven : and England now is left
To tug and famble, and to part by th' teeth
The unowed intereft of proud fwelling State :
Now for the bare-pickt bone of Majefty,
Doth dogged warre briffle his angry creft,
And farleth in the gentle eyes of peace :
Now Powers from home, and difcontents at home
Meet in one line : and vaft confuption waites
As dotha a Raven on a ficke-falne beaſt,
The imminent decay of wreſted pompe.
Now happy he, whose cloake and center can
Hold out this tempcſt. Beare away that child,
And follow me with ſpeed ; Ile to the King :
A thouſand buſineſſes are briefe in hand,
And heaven it ſelſe doth frowne upon the Land.

Exit.

## Actus Quartus, Scena Prima.

Enter King John, and Pandulph, attendants.

K. John. Thus have I yeeded up into your hand
The Circle of my glory.

Pand. Take againe

From this my hand, as holding of the Pope
Your Soveraigne greatneſſe and authority.

John. Now keefe your holy word, goe meet the French,
And from his holinſe uſe all your power

To flop their marches' fore we are enflam'd :

Our discontented Counties doe revolt :

Our people quarrell with obedience,

Swearing Allegiance, and the love of foule

To ftranger-bioud, to forren Royalty ;

This inundation of miſtempred humor,

Reſts by you onely to be qualified.

Then paſue not; for the prefent time's ſo ſicke,

That prefent medicine muſt be minifted,

Or overthrow incurable enfues.

Pand. It was my breath that blew this Tempceſt up,
Vpon your ftubborne ſage of the Pope :

But ſince you are a gentle convertite,

My tongue ſhall huff againe this ſtorme of warre,

And make faire weather in your bluſtring land :

On this Aſcention day, remember well,

Vpon your oath of ſerviceto the Pope,

Goe I to make the French lay downe their Armes. Exit.

John. Is this Aſcention day ? did not the Prophet

Say, that before Aſcention day at noone,

My Crowne I ſhould give off ? even ſo I have :

I did ſuppofe it ſhould be on conſtraint,

But (heav'n be thank'd) it is but voluntary.

Enter Baſtard.

Baſt. All Kent hath yeeded: nothing there holds out
But Dover Caſſe : London hath receiv'd

Like a kind Hoft, the Dolphin and his powers.

Your Nobles will not heare you, but are gone

To offer ſerviceto your enemy :

And wilde amazement hurries up and down

The little number of doubtfull friends.

John. Would not my lords returne to me againe
After they heard yong Arthur was alive ?

Baſt. They found him dead, and caſt into the ſtreets,
An empty Casket, where the Jewell of life
By fome damn'd hand was rob'd, and tane away.

John. That villaine Hubert told me he did live.

Baſt. So on my foule he did, for ought he knew :
But wherefore doe you droope ? why looke you fad ?
Be great in act, as you have beene in thought :

Let not the world fee ſeare and ſad diſtruſt

Governe the motion of a kingly eye :

Be ſtirring as the time, be fire with fire,
Threaten the threatner, and out-face the brow

Of bragging horror : So ſhall inferior eyes

That borrow their behaviours from the great,

Grow great by your example, and put on

The dauntleſſe ſpirit of refolution.

Away, and glifter like the god of warre

When he intendeth to become the field :

Shew boldneſſe and aspiring confidence :

What, ſhall they ſeeke the Lyon in his denne,

And fright him there ? and make him tremble there ?

Oh let it not be ſaid : forrage, and runne

To meet diſpleasure farther from the doores,

And grapple with him ere he come ſo ny.

John. The Legat of the Pope hath beene with mee,
And I have made a happy peace with him,
And he hath promiſed to diſmiſſe the Powers
Led by the Dolphin.

Baſt. Oh inglorious league :

Shall we upon the footing of our land,
Send faire-play-orders, and make comprimile,

Inſuination, parley, and baſe truce

To Armes Invaſive ? Shall a beardleſſe boy,

A cockred-ſilken wanton brave our fields,

And fleſh his ſpirit in a warre-like foyle,

Mocking the ayre with colours idleſt ſpred,

And find no checke ? Let us my Leige to Armes :

Perchance the Cardinall cannot make your peace ;

Or if he doe, let it at least be ſaid

They ſaw we had a purpofe of defence.

John. Have thou the ordering of this prefent time.

Baſt. Away then with good courage : yet I know
Our Party may well meet a prowder foe.

Exeunt.

## Scena Secunda.

Enter (in Armes) Dolphin, Salisbury, Mel'one, Pembrok,
Bigot, Souldiers.

Dol. My lord Melloone, let this be coppied out,
And keefe it ſafe for our remembrance :
Returne the preſident to theſe lords againe,
That having our faire order written downe,
Both they and we, perufing ore theſe notes
May know wherefore we rooke the Sacrament,
And keep our faithes firme and inviolable.

Sal. Vpon our ſides it never ſhall be broken.
And Noble Dolphin, albeit we ſweare
A voluntary zeale, and an un-urg'd faith
To your proceedings : yet believe me Prince,
I am not glad that ſuch a ſore of time
Should ſeeke a plaster by contemn'd revolt,
And heale the inveterate Canker of one wound,

By

By making many: Oh it grieves me foule,
That I must draw this mettle from my fide
To be a widow-maker: oh, and there
Where honourable refcue, and defence
Cries out upon the name of Salisbury.
But fuch is the infection of the time,
That for the health and Phyficke of our right,
We cannot deale but with the very hand
Ofterne injuſtice, and confuſed wrong:
And is't not pitty, (oh my grieved friends)
That we, the fonnes and children of this Ile,
Were borne to fee fo fad an houre as this,
Wherein we ſtep after a ſtranger, march
Vpon her gentle boſome, and fill up
Her enemies rankes? I muſt withdraw, and weepe
Vpon the ſpot of this inſforced cauſe,
To grace the Gentry of a Land remote,
And follow unacquainted colours heere:
What heere: O Nation that thou couldt remove,
That Neptunes Armes who clippeth thee about,
Would beare thee from the knowledge of thy ſelſe,
And cripple thee unto a Pagan ſhore,
Where theſe two Chriſtian Armies might combine
The bloud of malice, in a veine of league,
And not to ſpend it ſo un-neighbourly.

Delph. A noble temper doſt thou ſhew in this,
And great affections wraſtling in thy boſome
Doth make an earth-quake of Nobility:
Oh, what a noble combate haſt fought
Betweene compulfion, and a brave reſpect:
Let me wipe off this honourable dowe,
That filverly doth progrefſe on thy чeekes:
My heart haſt melted at a Ladies teares,
Being an ordinary Inundation:
But this effusion of ſuch mainly drops,
This ſhowre, blowne up by tempeſt of the ſoule,
Starbles mine eyes, and makes me more amaz'd
Than had I ſeene the vaſulty top of heaven
Figur'd quite out with burning Meteors.
Lift up thy brow (renowned Salisbury)
And with a great heart heave away this ſtorme:
Commend to theſe warres to theſe baby-eyes
That never ſaw the giant-world enrag'd,
Nor met with Fortune, other than at ſeaſts,
Full warme of blood, of mirth, of goſſipping:
Come, come; for thou ſhalt thrift thy hand as deefe
Into the purſe of rich prosperity
As Lewis himſelfe: fo (Nobles) ſhall you all;
That knit your finewes to the ſtrength of mine.

Enter Pandolph.

And even there, methinkes an Angel ſpake,
Looke where the holy Legate comes apace,
To give us warrant from the hand of heaven,
And on our actions fet the name of right
With holy breath.

Pand. Haile noble Prince of France:
The next is this: King John hath reconciled
Himſelfe to Rome, his ſpirit is come in,
That fo ſood out againſt the holy Church,
The great Metropolis and Sea of Rome:
Therefore thy threatening colours now wind up,
And tame the favage ſpirit of wilde warre,
That like a Lyon ſoſtered up at hand,
It may lye gently at the foot of peace,
And be no further harmefull than in ſhew.

Dolph. Your grace ſhall pardon me, I will not barke :

I am too high-borne to be propertied
To be a ſeconday at controull,
Or uſefull ſerving-man, and inſtrument
To any Soveraigne State throughout the world.
Your breath firſt kindled the dead coale of warres,
Betweene this chaſtiz'd kingdome and my ſelſe,
And brought in matter that ſhould feed this ſire;
And now'tis farre too huge to be blowne out
With that fame weake wind, which enkindled it:
You taught me how to know the face of right,
Acquainted me with intereſt to this land,
Yea, thrift this enterprize into my heart,
And come ye now to tell me John hath made
His peace with Rome ? what is that peace to me?
I (by the honor of my marriage bed)
After yong Arthur, claime this land for mine,
And now it is halſe conquer'd, muſt I barke,
Because that John hath made his peace with Rome?
Am I Romes ſlave ? what penny hath Rome borne?
What men provided? what munition ſent
To under-prop this Action ? Is't not I
That under-goeth this charge ? who eſſe but I,
And ſuch as to my claime are liable,
Sweat in this buſineſſe, and maintaine this warre?
Have I not heard theſe Iſlanders ſhout out
Ovive le Roy, as I have bank'd their Townes?
Have I not heere the beſt Cards for the game
To winne this caſe, match, plaid for a Crowne?
And ſhall I now give ore the ycelded Set?
No, no, on my ſoule it never ſhall be faid.

Pand. You looke but on the outſide of this worke.

Dolph. Outſide or inſide, I will not returne
Till my attempt ſo much be glorified,
As to my ample hope was promiſed,
Before I drew this gallant head of warre,
And cull'd theſe fiery ſpirits from the world
To out-looke Conqueſt, and to winne renowne
Even in the jawes of danger, and of death :
What Inſity Trumpet thus doth ſummon us?

Enter Baſtard.

Baſt. According to the faire-play of the world,
Let me have audience: I am ſent to ſpake:
My holy lord of Millane, from the King
I come to leane how you have dealt for him:
And, as you anſwer, I doe know the ſcope
And warrant limited unto my tongue.

Pand. The Dolphin is too wilſull oppoſite
And will not temporize with my intreaties:
He flately fayes, hee'll not lay downe his Armes.
Baſt. By all the bloud that ever fury breath'd,
The youth ſayes well. Now heare our English King,
For thus his Royality doth ſpake in me:
He is prepar'd, and reaſon too he ſhould,
This apſiſh and unmannerly approach,
This harneſſ'd Maske, and unadviſed Revell,
This unheard ſawcineſſe and boyiſh Troopes,
The King doth ſmile at, and is well prepar'd
To whip this dwarſiſh warre, this Pigmy Armes
From ont the circle of his Territories.
That hand which had the ſtrength, even at your dore,
To cudgell you, and make you take the hatch,
To dive like Buckets in concealed Wells,
To crowch in litter of your ſtble plankes,
To lye like pawnes, lock'd up in cheſts and trunkeſes,
To hug with fwine, to feeke a ſweet safety out
In vaults and prifons, and to thrill and ſake,

Even

20

Even at the crying of your Nations crow,
Thinking this voyce an armed English man.
Shall that victorious hand be feebled here,
That in your Chambers gave you chafticement
No: know the gallant Monarch is in Armes,
And like an Eagle, o're his aery towres,
To fowle annoyance that comes neere his Neft
And you degenerate, you ingrate Revolts,
You bloudy Nero's, ripping up the wombe
Of your deere Mother-England: blufh for fhame :
For your owne Ladies, and pale-vifag'd Maides,
Like Amazons, come tripping after drummes :
Their thimbles into armed Gantlets change,
Their Needl's to Lances, and their gentle hearts
To fierce and bloudy inclination.

Dol. There end thy brave, and turne thy face in peace,
We grant thon canft out-fcold us: fare thee well,
We hold our time too precious to be f spent
With fucha brabler.

Pan. Give me leave to fpeake.

Bast. No, I will fpeake.

Dol. We will attend to neither :

Strike up the drummes, and let the tongue of warre
Pleade for our intereft, and our being heere.

Bast. Indeed your drummes being beaten, wil cry out;
And so shall you, being beaten : doe but flart
An eccho with the clamor of thy drumme,
And even at hand, a drumme is ready brac'd,
That shall reverberate all, as lowd as thine.

Sound but another, and another shall
(As lowd as thine) rattle the Welkins care,
And mocke the deepe mouth'd thunder : for at hand
(Not trufting to this halting Legate heere,
Whom he hath u'd rather for ſport, than need)
Is warlike John: and in his forehead fits

A bare-rib'd death, whose office is this day
To feaft upon whole thoufands of the French.

Dol. Strike up our drummes, to find this danger out.

Bast. And thou fhalt find it (Dolphin) doe not doubt

Exeunt.

## Scæna Tertia.

Alarums. Enter John, and Hubert.

John. How goes the day with us? oh tell me Hubert.

Hub. Badly I feare; how fares your Majefty ?

John. This Feaver that hath troubled me fo long,
Lyes heavy on me: oh, my heart is ficke.

Enter a Messanger.

Mef. My lord : your valiant kinfman Fanconbridge,
Defires your Majefty to leave the field,
And fend him word by me, which way you goe.

John. Tell him toward Swinſted, to the Abbey there.

Mef. Be of good comfort : for the great fuppy,
That was expected by the Dolphin heere,
Are wrack'd three nights agoe on Goodwin fands.
This newes was brought to Richard but even now,
The French fight coldly, and retire themfelves.

John. Aye me, this tyraot Feaver burnes me up,
And will not let me welcome this good newes.
Set on toward Swinſted : to my Litter ſtraight,
Weakeneſſe poffeſſeth me, and I am faint.

Exeunt.

## Scæna Quarta.

Enter Salisbury, Pembroke, and Bigot.

Sal. I did not thinke the King ſo for't with friends,
Pem. Vp once againe: put ſpirit in the French,
If they miſcarry : we miſcarry too.

Sal. That miſbegotten divell Faulconbridge,
In ſpight of ſpight, alone upholds the day.

Pem. They lay King John ſore ſicke, hath left the field.

Enter Meloon wounded.

Mel. Lead me to the Revolts of England heere.

Sal. When we were happy, we had other names.

Pem. It is the Count Meloon.

Sal. Wounded to death.

Mel. Flye Noble English, you are bought and fold,
Vnthred the rude eye of Rebellion,
And welcome home againe diſcarded faith,
Seeke out King John, and fall before his feet :
For if the French be lords of this loud day,
He means to recompence the paines you take,
By cutting off your heads : Thus hath he ſworne,
And I with him, and many moe with me,
Vpon the Altar at Saint Edmondsbury,
Even on that Altar, where we ſwore to you
Deere Amity, and everlafting love.

Sal. May this be poffible? May this be true?

Mel. Have I not hideous death within my view,
Retaining but a quantity of life,
Which bleeds away, even as a forme of waxe
Retolveth from his figure 'gainſt the fire?
What in the world ſhould make me now deceive,
Since I muſt loſe the uſe of all deceite ?
Why ſhould I then be ſalſe, ſince it is istrue
That I muſt dye heere, and live hence, by truth?
I lay againe, if Lewis doe winne the day,
He is forſworne, if ere thofe eyes of yours
Behold another day breake in the Eaſt :
But even this night, whoſe blacke contagious breath
Already ſmoakes about the burning Creſt
Of the old, feeble, and day-wearied Sunne,
Even this ill night, your breathing ſhall expire,
Paying the fine of rated Treachry,
Even with a treacherous fine of all your lives :

If Lewis, by your affiſtance win the day.
Commend me to one Hubert, with your King :
The love of him, and this reſpect beſides
(For that my Grandfire was an Englishman)
A wakes my confidence to confefſe all this.
In lien whereof, I pray you beare me hence
From forth the noife and rumour of the field;
Where I may thinke the remnant of my thoughts
In peace : and part this body and my foule
With contemplation, and devout deſires.

Sal. We doe beleeve thee, and beſhrew my ſoule,
But I doe love the favour, and the forme
Of this moſt faire occafion, by the which
We will untread the fleps of damned flight,
And like a bated and retired flood,
Leaving our rankeneſſe and irregular courſe,
Stoope low within thofe bounds we have ore-look'd,
And calmly run on in obedience,
Even to our Ocean, to our great King John,
My arme ſhall give thee helpe to beare thee hence,

For

22

It would not out at windowes, nor at doores,

There is so hot a Summer in my bofome,

That all my bowels crumble up to duft :

I am a fcribled forme drawne with a pen,

Vpon a Parchment ,and againft this fire

Doe I shrinke up.

Hen. How fares your Majeftie ?

Joh. Poyfon'd, ill fare : dead, for fooke, caft off,

And none of you will bid the Winter come

To thrift his ycie fingers in my maw ;

Nor let my Kingdomes Rivers take their courfe

Through my burn'd bofome : nor intreat the North

To make his bleake windes kiffe my parched lips,

And comfort me with cold. I doe not aske you much,

I beg cold comfort : and you are ſo ſtraight

And to ingrateiull, you deny me that.

Hen. Oh that there were fome vertue in my teares,

That might relieve you.

John. The falt of them is hot.

Within me is a hel, and there the poyfon

Is, as a fiend, confin'd to tyrannize,

On unrepreeveable condemned blood.

Enter Baſtard.

Baff. Oh, I am ſcalded with my violent motion

And ſpleene of ſpeed, to fee your Majeſtie.

John. Oh Cozen, thou art come to fet mine eye :

The tackle of my heart, is crack'd and burnt,

And all the ſhrowds wherewith my life ſhould faile,

Are turned to one thred, one little haire :

My heart hath one poore string to ſtay it by,

Which holds but till thy newes be uttered,

And then all this thou ſeeth, is but a clod,

And module of confounded Royalty.

Baff. The Dolphin is preparing hither-ward,

Where heaven he knowes how we ſhall anſwer him.

For in a night the beſt part of my power,

As I upon advantage did remove,

Were in the Wafes all unwarily,

Devoured by the unexpected flood.

Sal. You breathe theſe dead newes in as dead an eare

My Liege, my Lord : but now a King, now thus.

Hen. Even ſo muſt I runne on, and even ſo flop.

What firety of the world, what hope, what ſtay.

When this was now a King, and now is Clay?

Baff. Art thou gone ſo ? I doe but ſtay behinde

To doe the office for thee, of revenge,

And then my foule ſhall waite on thee to heaven,

As it on earth hath been thy fervant ſtill.

Now, now you Stars, that move in your right Spheres,

Where be your powers ? Shew now your mended faiths,

And instantly returne with me againe,

To pufh deftruction and perpetuall ſhame

Out of the weake doore of our fainting Land :

Straight let us ſeeke, or ſtraight we ſhall be ſought,

The Dolphin rages at our very hecles.

Sal. It ſeemes you know not then ſo much as we,

The Cardinall Pandyph is within at reſt,

Who halſe an houre ſince came from the Dolphin,

And brings from him ſuch offers of our peace,

As we with honour and reſpect may take,

With purpofe prefentely to leave this warre.

Baff. He will the rather doe it, when he ſees

Our ſelves well finew'd to our defence.

Sal. Nay, tis in a manner done already,

For many carriages he hath diſpatch'd

To the Seaſide, and put his caufe and quarrell

To the diſpoſing of the Cardinall,

With whom your ſelfe, my ſelfe, and other Lords,

If you thinke meete, this afternoone will poff

To consummate this buſineſſe happily.

Baff. Let it be ſo, and you my Noble Prince,

With other Princes that may beſt be ſpar'd,

Shall waite upon your Fathers funerali.

Hen. At Worſer muſt his body be interr'd,

For ſo he will'd it.

Baff. Thither ſhall it then,

And happily may your ſweer ſelfe put on

The lineall ſtate, and glory of the Land,

To whom with all ſnfmiffion on my knee,

I doe bequeath my faithfull ſervices

And true ſubjection everlaſtingly.

Sal. And the like tender of our love we make

To reſt without a ſpot for evermore.

Hen. I have a kinde foule that would give thanks,

And knowes not how to doe it, but with teares.

Baff. Oh let us pay the time : but needfull woe,

Since it hath beene before hand with our griefes.

This England never did, nor never ſhall

Lye at the proud ſtoote of a Conquerer,

But when it firſt did helpe to wound it ſelfe.

Now, theſe her Princesare come home againe,

Come the three corners of the world in Armes,

And we ſhall ſhocke them : Nought ſhall make us rue,

If England to it ſelfe, doe reſt but true.

Exeunt.

FJN J.S.

The Life and Death of King Richard
the Second.

Actus Primus, Scena Prima.

Enter King Richard, John of Gaunt, with other Nobles and Attendants.

King Richard.

Ld John of Gaunt, time-honoured Lancaster,
Haft thou according to thy oath and band,
Brought hither Henry Herford thy bold fon:
Here to make good the boyflierous late ap-

Which then our leaure would not let us heare, (peale,
Against the Duke of Norfolke, Thomas Mowbray?

Gaunt. I have my Liege.

King. Tell me moreover, haft thou founded him,
If heappeale the Duke on ancient malice,
Or worthily as a good fubject hould,
On fome knowne ground of treachery in him.

Gaunt. As neere as I could lift him on that argument,
On fome apparant danger feene in him,
Aym'd at your highneſt, no inverterate malice.

King. Then call them to our prefence face to face,
And frowning brow to brow, our felves will heare
Th' accufer, and the accufed, freely ſpake ;

High ſtomack'd are they both, and full of ire,
In rage, deafe as the ſea; hafty as fire.

Enter Bullingbrook and Mowbray.

Bull. Many yeares of happy dayes befall

My gracious Soveraigne, my moſt loving Liege.

Mow. Each day ſtill better others happineſſe,
Vntill the heavens envying earths good hap,
Adde an immortall title to your Crowne.

King. We thanke you both, yet one but flatters us,
As well appeareth by the caufe you come,

Namely to appeale each other of high treafon.
Couſin of Hereford what doſt thou objeſt
Against the Duke of Norfolke, Thomas Mowbray?

Bull. Firſt, heaven be the record to my ſpeech,
In the devotion of a ſubjeſts love,

Tendring the precious ſafety of my Prince,
And free from other miſ-begotten hate,

Come I appealant to this Princely prefence.

Now Thomas Mowbray doe I turne to thee,
And marke my greeting well: for what I ſpake,
My body ſhall make good upon this earth,
Or my divine ſoule anſwer it in heaven.

Thou art a Traitor and a miſcreant ;

Too good to be ſo, and too bad to live,

Since the more faire and Criſtall is the skie,

The uglier ſeeme the cloudes that in it flye :

Once more, the more to aggravate the nore,

With a foule traitors name ſtuffe I thy throat,

And with (to please my Soveraigne) ere I move, (prove.

What my tongue ſpeaks, my right drawne ſword may

Mow. Let not my coole words here accuſe my zeale :

Tis not the tryall of a womans warre,

The bitter clamour of two eager tongues,

Can arbitrate this caufe betwixt us twaine :

The bloud is hot that muſt be coold for this:

Yet can I not of ſuch tame patience boaſt,
As to be hufft, and nought at all to fay.

Firſt the faire reverence of your highneſſe curbes mee,

From giving reines and ſpurres to my free ſpeech,

Which elfe would poſt, untill it had return'd

The ſtearres of treaſon, doubly downe his throat,

Setting afide his high blouds royalty,

And let him be no kinfman to my Liege,

I doe defie him, and I ſpit at him,

Call him a flanderous Coward, and a Villaine :

Which to maintaine, I would allow him oddes,

And meet him, were I tide to run afoot,

Even to the frozen ridges of the Alpes,

Or any other ground inhabitable,

Wherever ever Englishman durſt ſet his foot.

Meane time, let this defend my loyalty,

By all my hopes moſt falſely doth he lye.

Bul. Pale trembling Coward, there I throw my gage,
Difclaiming here the kindred of a King,

And lay afide my high bloods Royalty,

Which ſeare, not reverence makes thee to except,

If guilty dread hath left thee ſo much ſtrength,

As to take up mine honours pawne, then ſtope.

By that, and all the rights of Knighthood eſe,

Will I make good againſt thee arme to arme,

What I have ſpoken, or thou canſt devife.

Mow. I take it up, and by that ſword I weare,
Which gently laid my Knight-hood on my ſhoulder,

Ile anſwer thee in any ſaire degree,

Or Chivalrous deſigne of knightly tryall :

And when I mount, alive may I not light,

If I be traitor, or unjuſtly fight.

King. What doth our Couſin lay to Mowbrayes charge?

It muſt be great that can inherite us,

So much as of a thought of ill in him.

Bul. Looke what I faid, my life ſhall prove it true,

That Mowbray hath receiv'd eight thouſand Nobles,

In

The Life and Death of Richard the Second.

24

In name of lendings for your Highneſſe Souldiers,
The which he hath detain'd for lewd imployments,
Like a false traitor, and injurious Villaine.
Befides I lay, and will in battaille prove,
Or heere, or else where to the furtheſt Verge
That ever was furvey'd by English eye,
That all the treaſons for theſe eighteene yeares
Complotred and contrived in this Land,
Fetcht from false Mowbray their firſt head and ſpring.
Further I lay, and further will maintaine
Vpon hiſ sbad life, to make all this good,
That he did plot the Duke of Glouſters death,
Suggesſt his ſoone beleeving adveriaries,
And conſequently like a traitor Coward,
Sinc'd out his innocent ſoule through ſtreames of blood:
Which bloud, like ſacrificing Abels cryes,
(Even from the tongueleſſe cavernes of the earth)
To me for Inſtice, and rough chaſtifeſt:
And by the glorious worth of my deſcent,
This arme ſhall doe it, or this life be ſpent.

King. How high a pitch his reſolution ſoares :

Thomas of Norſolke, why layſt thou to this ?

Mow, Oh let my Soveraigne turne away his face,
And bid his caires a little while be deafe,
Till I have told this flander of his bloud,
How God and good men hate ſo fowle a lyer.

King. Mowbray, impartial are our eyes and caires,
Were he my brother, may your Kingdomes heire,
As he is but my fathers brothers ſonne ;
Now by my Scepters awe, I make a vow,
Such neighbour-neerent ſie to our ſacred blood,
Should nothing privileged him, nor partialize
The unſtooping firmeneſſe of my upright ſoule.
He is our ſubject (Mowbray) ſo art thou,
Free ſpeech and ſcareleſſe, I to thee allow.

Mow. Then Bullingbrooke as low as thy heart,
Through the false paſſage of thy throat; thou lyeſt :
Three parts of that receipt I had for Callice,
Disburſt I to his Highneſſe ſoudiers ;
The other part reſer'd I by content,
For that my Soveraigne Liege was in my debt,
Vpon remainder of a deere account,
Since laſt I went to France to fetch his Queene :
Now ſwallow downe that lye. For Glouſters death,
I flew him not; but (to mine owne diſgrace)
Neglected my ſw orne duty in that cafe :
For you my noble Lord of Lancaſſer,
The honourable Father to my Foe,
Once I did lay an ambuſh for your life,
A treſpaffe that doth vex my grieved ſoule :
Butere I laſt receiv'd the Sacrament,
I did conſeſſe it, and exaſtly begg'd
Your Graces pardon, and I hope I had it.
This is my fault: as for the reſt appeal'd,
It iſſues from the rancour of a Villaine,
A recreant and moſt degenerate traitor,
Which in my ſelfe I boldly will defend,
And interchangeably hurle downe my gage,
Vpon this overweening traitors ſfoot,
To prove my ſelfe a loyall Gentleman,
Even in the beſt bloud chamber'd in his boſome.
In haſte whereof moſt heartily I pray
Your Highneſſe to aſſigne our tryall day.

King. Wrath kindled Gentlemen be rul'd by me :
Let's purge this choller without letting blood :
This we preſcribe, though no Phyſition.

Deepe malice makes too deepe inciſion.
Forget, forgive, conclude, and be agreed,
Our Doctors lay, this is no time to bleed,
Good Vncle, let this end where it begun,
Wee' calme the Duke of Norſolke, you your ſon.
Gaunt. To be a make-peace ſhall become my age,
Throw downe (my ſonne) the Duke of Norſolkes gage,
King. And Norſolke throw downe his.

Gaunt. When Harry when ? Obedience bids,
Obedience bids, I ſhould not bid agen.
King. Norſolke, throw downe, we bid ; there is no boote.

King. Rage muſt be withſtood :
Give me his gage : Lyons make Leopards tame.
Mow. Yea, but not change his ſpots: take but my ſhame,
And I reſigne my gage. My deere, deere Lord,
The pureſt treaſure (mortal times aſſord,
Is diſgrac'd, impeach'd, and bafeſh'd here,
Pierc'd to the ſoule with ſlanders venom'd ſpeare :
The which no blame can care, but his heart blood
Which breath'd this poyſon.

King. Cooſin, throw downe your gage,
Doe you begin.

But. Oh heaven defend my ſoule from ſuch ſoule ſin
Shall I ſeeme Creſt-falne in my fathers fight,
Or with pale beggar-feare impeach my high
Before this ont-dar'd daſtard ? Ere my toons,
Shall wound mine honor with ſuch feeble wrong :
Or found ſo bafe a parle : my teeth ſhall teare
The flavifh motive of recanting ſeare,
And ſpit it bleeding in his high diſgrace,
Where ſhame doth harbour, even in Mowbrayes face.

Exit Gaunt.

King. We were not borne to ſue, but to command,
Which ſince we cannot doe to make you friends,
Be ready, (as your lives ſhall anſwer it)
At Coventree, upon Saint Lamberts day :
There ſhall your ſwords and Lances arbitrate
The ſwelling difference of your feted hate :
Since we cannot attone you, you ſhall fee
Inſtice deſigne the Viceroy.
Lord Marſhall, command our Officers at Armes,
Be ready to direct theſe home Alarmes.

Exenunt.

## Scæna Secunda.

Enter Gaunt, and Dutchefleſſe de Glonſer.
Gaunt. Alas, the part I had in Glouſters blood,
Doth more ſolicite me than your exlaimeſes,
To ſirre againſt the Butchers of his life.

But

The Life and Death of Richard the second.

25

But fince correction lyeth in thofe hands
Which made the fault that we cannot correct,
Put we our quarrell to the will of heaven,
Who when they fee the houres ripe on earth,
Will raine hot vengeance on offenders heads.

Dut. Findes brotherhood in thee no sharper spurre?
Hath love in thy old blood no living fire?

Edwards seven fonnes ( whereof thy felfe art one )
Were as feven vialles of his Sacred blood,

Or feven faire branches (springing from one roote :
Some of thofe feven are dride by natures courfe,
Some of thofe branches by the definities cut:

But Thomas, my deere Lord, my life, my Glofter,
One Viall full of Edwards Sacred blood,
One flourishing branch of his moft Royall roote
Is crack'd, and all the precious liquor spilt;
Is hackt downe, and his summer leaves all vaded
By Envies hand, and Murders bloody Axe.

Ah Gaunt ? His blood was thine, that bed, that wombe,
That mettle, that felfe-mould that fashion'd thee,
Made him a man : and though thou liv'st, and breath'st,
Yet art thou flaine in him : thou doft confent
In fome large meate to thy Fathers death,
In that thou feellt thy wretched brother dye,
Who was the modell of thy Fathers life.

Call it not patience ( Gaunt ) it is defpair,
In suffering thus thy brother to be floughter'd,
Thou flew'ft the naked pathway to thy life,
Teaching ferne brother how to butcher thee :

That which in meane men we intitle patience
Is pale cold cowardife in noble brefts:
What fhall I fy, to faſegave thine owne life,
The belt way is to venge my Glofters death.

Gaunt. Heavens is the quarrell : for heavens subſtitute
His Deputy annoynted in his fight,

Hath caus'd his death, the which if wrongfully
Let heaven revenge : for I may never lift
An angry arme againſt his Minifter.

Dut. Where then (alas) may I complaine my felfe ?

Gaunt. To heaven, the widdowes Champion to defence.

Dut. Why then I will : farewell old Gaunt.

Thou goſt to Coventry, there to behold
Our Cofine Hereford, and fell Mowbray fight:

O ſit my husbands wrongs on Herefords ſcare,
That it may enter butcher Mowbrayes breſt :

Or if misfortune miſſe the firſt carreere,
Be Mowbrayes finnes ſo heavy in his boſome ,

That they may breake his foaming Courſers backe,
And throw the Rider headlong in the Lifts,
A Caytiffe recreant to my Cofine Hereford.

Farewell old Gaunt, thy ſometimes brothers wife
With her companion Greeſe, muſt end her life.

Gaunt. Sifter fare well : I muſt to Couentrie,
As much good ſtay with thee, as go with me.

Dut. Yet one word more: Grecfe boundeth where it
Not with the empty hollowneſe, but weight: (falls,
I take my leave, before I have begun,

For forrow ends not: when it feemeth done.

Commend me to my brother Edward Torks.

Loe, this is all : nay yet depart not ſo,
Though this be all, do not ſo quickly goe,
I ſhall remember more. Bid him, Oh, what?

With all good ſpeed at Plaſhie viſit me.

Alacke, and what ſhall good old Yorke there ſee
But empty lodgings, and unfurniſh'd walles,
Vn-peopel'd Offices, untroden ſtones?

And what heare there for welcome, but my grones ?
Therefore commend me, let him not come there,

To feeke out forrow, that dwels every where :
Defolate, defolate will I hence, and dye,

The laſt leave of thee, takes my weeping eye.

Exeunt

## Scena Tertia.

Enter N. Marſhall, and Aumerle.

Mar. My L. Aumerle, is Harry Hereford arm'd?

Aum. Yea, at all poynts, and longs to enter in.

Mar. The Duke of Norſtolke, (ſrightfull and bold,
Stayes but the fummons of the Appealants Trumpet.

Au. Why then the Champions, are prepar'd, and ſlay
For nothing but his Majefties approach.

Flourish.

Enter King, Gaunt, Buſby, Bagot, Greene, &

others: Then Mowbray in Ar-
mor, and Harrold.

Rich. Marſhall, demand of yonder Champion
The caufe of his arrivallie here in Armes,
Aske him his name, and orderly proceed
To ſware him in the juſtice of his caufe.

Mar. In Gods Name, and the Kings, ſay who thou art,
And why thou com'ſt, thus knightly clad in Armes?
Againſt what man thou com'ſt, and what's thy quarrell,
Speake truely on thy knighthood, and thine oath,
As ſo defend thee heaven, and thy valour.

Mow. My name is Tho. Mowbray, Duke of Norſtolke,
Who hither come engaged by my oath
(Which heaven defend a knight ſhould violate)
Both to defend his loyalty and truth,
To God, my King, and his ſuceeding ſiſue,
Againe the Duke of Hereford, that appeales me:
And by the grace of God and this mine arme,
To prove him (in defending of my ſelfe)
A Traitor to my God, my King, and me,
And as I truly fight, defend me heaven.

Tucker. Enter Hereford, and Harrold.

Rich. Marſhall: Aske yonder Knight in Armes,
Both who hee is, and why he commeth hither,
Thus placed in habiliments of warre :

And formally according to our Law
Depofe him in the juſtice of his caufe.

Mar. What is thy name? & wherefore com'ſt thou hither
Before King Richard in his Royall Lifts ?

Againſt whom com'ſt thou? and what's thy quarrell ?
Speake like a true Knight, ſo defend thee heaven.

Bull. Harry of Hereford, Lancaſter, and Derbie,

Am I : who ready here do stand in Armes,

To prove by heavens grace, and my bodyes valour,
In Lifts, on Thomas Mowbray Duke of Norſtolke,

That he's a Traitor foule and dangerous,

To God of heaven, King Richard, and to me,
And as I truely fight, defend me heaven.

Mar. On paine of death, no perſon be ſo bold,
Or daring hardie as to touch the Liftes,

Except the Marſhall, and ſuch officers

Appointed to direct theſe faire defignes,

Bull. Lord Marſhall, let me kiffe my Soveraigns hand,
And bow my knee before his Majeftie.

For Mowbray and my ſelfe are like two men,
That vow a long and weary pilgrimage,

Then

Nor ever write,regreete,or reconcile
This lowring tempeſt of your home-bred hate,
Nor ever advifed purpofe meete,
To plot,contrive, or complot any ill,
Gauntt Vs,our State,our ſubjeſts,or our Land.
But, I ſweare.

Mow. And I, to keepe all this,
Bull. Norfolke,fo farre,as to mine enemie,
By this time(had the King permitted us)
One of our toules had wandred in the ayre,
Banifh'd this fraile ſepulcher of our fleſh,
As now our fleſh is banifh'd from this Land.
Confefle thy Treafons,ere thou flye this Realme,
Since thou haſt farre to go,beare not along
The clogging burthen of a guilty foule.

Mow. No *Bullingbrooke*: If ever I were Traitor,
My name be blotted from the booke of Life,
And I from heaven banifh'd,as from hence :
But what thou art,heaven,thou, and I do know,
And all too ſoone(1 teare) the King ſhall rue.
Farewell (my Liege) now no way can I ſtray,
Save backe to Engiand,all the worlds my way.
Rich. Vncle,even in the glaſſes of thine eyes
I fee thy greeſed heart: thy ſad aspect,
Hath from the number of his banifh'd yeares
Pluck'd ſoure away: Six frozen Winters ſpent,
Resume with welcome home,from banifhment.

Rich. How long a time lies in one little word :
Foure lagging Winters,and ſoure wanton Springs
End in a word,fuch is the breath of Kings.
Gaunt. I thanke my Liege,that in regard of me
He ſhortens ſoure yeares of my fonnes exile :
But little vantage haſt I reape thereby.
For ere the ſixe yeares that he hath to ſpend
Can change the Moones,and bring their times about,
My oyle-dride Lampe,and time-bewaſt light
Shall be extinc with age,and endleſſe night :
My inch of Taper,will be burnt,and done,
And blindfold death,not let me fee my ſonne.

Rich. Vncle, thou haſt many yeeres to live.
Gaunt. But not a minute (King) that thou canſt give;
Shorten my dayes thou canſt with ſudden ſorrow,
And plucke rights from me,but not lend a morrow :
Thou canſt helpe time to ſurrow me with age,
But ſtop no wrinkle in his pilgriſhage:
Thy word is currant with him, for my death,
But dead,thy kingdome cannot buy my breath.

Rich. Thy ſonne is banifh'd upon good advice,
Where to thy tongue a party-verdiſt gave,
Why at our Juſtice ſeem't thou then to lowre ?
Gaunt. Things ſweet to taſt,prove in digeſſion ſowre :
You urg'd me as a Iudge,but I had rather
You would have bid me argue like a Father.
Alas,I look'd when ſome of you ſhould ſay,
I was too ſtrict to make mine owne away :
But you gave leave to my unwilling tongue,
Against my will,to do my ſelſe this wrong.

Rich. Why Vncle,thou haſt many yeeres to live.
Gaunt. But not a minute (King) that thou canſt give;
Shorten my dayes thou canſt with ſudden ſorrow,
And plucke rights from me,but not lend a morrow :
Thou canſt helpe time to ſurrow me with age,
But ſtop no wrinkle in his pilgriſhage:
Thy word is currant with him, for my death,
But dead,thy kingdome cannot buy my breath.
Rich. Thy ſonne is banifh'd upon good advice,
Where to thy tongue a party-verdiſt gave,
Why at our Juſtice ſeem't thou then to lowre ?
Gaunt. Things ſweet to taſt,prove in digeſſion ſowre :
You urg'd me as a Iudge,but I had rather
You would have bid me argue like a Father.
Alas,I look'd when ſome of you ſhould ſay,
I was too ſtrict to make mine owne away :
But you gave leave to my unwilling tongue,
Against my will,to do my ſelſe this wrong.

Rich. Coſine farewell: and Vncle bid him ſo :
Six yeares we banifh him,and he haſt go.
Flourish.
Exit.

Rich. Coſine farewell: what prefence muſt not know
From where you do remaine,let paper ſhow.

Mar. My Lord,no leave take I,for I will ride
As farre as land will let me,by your ſide.

Gaunt. Oh to what purpofe doſt thou hord thy words,
That thou return't no greeting to thy friends ?

Bull. I have too few to take my leave of you,
when the tongues office ſhould be prodigal,
To breath th'abundant dolour of the heart.

Gaunt. Thy greeſe is but thy abſence for a time.

Bull. Toy abſent,greeſe is preſent for that time.

Gaunt. What is fixe Winters, they are quickly gone ?

Bull. To men in joy, but greeſe makes one hour ten.

Gaunt. Call it a travel that thou tak't for pleafure.

Bull. My heart will ſigh,when I miſcall it ſo,

Which findes it an inſforced Pilgrimage.

Gaunt. The ſullen paſſage of thy weary ſteppes
Eſteme a foyle,wherein thou art to fet
The precious Iewell of thy home returne.

Bull. Oh who can hold a fire in his hand

By thinking on the froſtie Caucasus ?

Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite,

By bare imagination of a Feaſt?

Or Wallow naked in December ſnow

By thinking on fantaſticke Summers heate?

Oh no, the apprehenſion of the good

Gives but the greater feeling to the worſe :

Fell ſorrows tooth,doth ever ranckle more

Then when it bites, but lanceth not the ſore.

Gaunt. Come,come (my ſon) Ie bring thee on thy way
Had I thy youth,anſe, I would not be.

Bull. Then Englands ground farewell;ſweet foil adieu
My Mother and my Nurſe,which beares me yet :

Where ere I wander,boaſt of this I can,
Though banifh'd,yet a true-borne Englishman.

## Scena Quarta.

Enter King, Aumerle, Greene, and Bagot.

Rich. We did obſerve. Coſine Aumerle,

How farre brought you high Hereford on his way?

Aum. I brought high Hereford (if you call him ſo)
But to the next high way,and there I left him.

Rich. And ſay,what ſtore of parting teares were ſhed?

Aum. Faith none by me: except the Northeart wind
Which then grew bitterly againſt our face,
Awak'd the ſleepie rhowme,anſo by chance
Did grace our hollow parting with a teare.

Rich. What ſaid our Coſin when you parted with him?

Aum. Farewell:and for my hart diſdained y my tongue
Should ſo prophece the word,that taught me craft
To counterfeit oppreſſion of ſuch greeſe,
That word ſeem'd buried in my ſorrows grave.
Marry, would the word Farewell, had lengthen'd houres,
And added yeeres to his ſhort banifhment,
He ſhould have had a volume of Farewels,
But ſince it would not,he had none of me.

Rich. He is our Coſin (Coſin) but'tis doubt,
When time ſhall call him home from banifhment;
Whether our kinfman come to fee his friends,
Our ſelſe, and Busby : heere Bagot and Greene
Obſerv'de his Courtſhip to the common people :

How he did ſeeme to dive into their hearts,

With humble, and familiar courteſe,

What reverence he did throw away on ſlaves ;

wooing poore Crafteſ-men, with the craft of ſoules,

And patient under-bearing of his Fortune,

As twere to banifh their affects with him.

Off goes his bonnet to an Oyſter-wench,

C 2

A

30

What will enfue hereof, there's none can tell,
But by bad courtes may be underflood,

That their events can never fall out good.

Exits.

Rich. Go Buffet to the Earle of Wiltshire freight,
Bid him repaire to us to Ely houfe,

To fee this bufineſſe: to morrow next

We will for Ireland, and 'tis time, I trow :

And we create in abſence of our ſelſe

Our Vnckle Yorke, Lord Governor of England :

For he is juſt, and alwayes lov'd us well.

Come on our Queene, to morrow muſt we part,

Be merry, for our time of itay is ſhort.

Flourish.

Manet North, Willoughby, and Roff.

Nor. Wall Lords, the Duke of Lancaſter is dead.

Roff. And living too, for now his ſonne is Duke.

Will. Barely in title, not in revenue new.

Nor. Richly in both, if justice had her right.

Roff. My heart is great: but it muſt break with ſilence
Er't be disburthen'd with a liberall tongue.

Nor. Nay, I ſpeak thy mind: & let him ne'r ſpeak more
That I ſpeakes thy words againe to doe thee harme.

Wil. Tends that thou'lt diſ ſpeak to th'DU. of Hereford?
If it be ſo, out with it boldly man :

Quicke is mine eare to heare of good towards him.

Roff. No good at all that I can doe for him,

Vnleſſe you call it good to pitie him,

Bereſt and gelded of his patrimonie.

Nor. Now afore heaven, 'its ſhame ſuch wrongs are
borne,

In him a royall Prince, and many moe

Of noble blood in this declining Land ;

The King is not himſelfe, but bafely led

By flatterers, and what they will informe

Mereely in hate 'gainſt any of us all,

That will the King feverely ſeſecute
'Gainſt us, our lives, our children, and our heires.

Roff. The Commons hath he pill'd with greevous taxes
And quite loft their hearts : the Nobles hath he fin'd
For ancient quarrels, and quite loft their hearts.

Wil. And daily new exaſtions are devis'd,

As blankes, benevoſences, and I wot not what:

But what o'Gods name doth become of this?

Nor. Wars hath not waſted it, for ward he hath not,
But bafely yeelded upon comprimize,

That which his Anceſtors atchien'd with blowes :

More hath he ſpent in peace, then they in warres.

Rof. The Earle of Wiltshire hath the realme in Farme.

Wil. The King's growne bankrupt like a broken man.

Nor. Reproach, and diſſolution hangeth over him.

Rof. He hath not monie for theſe Irish warres:

(His burthenous taxations notwithſtanding)

But by the robbing of the banifh'd Duke.

Nor. His noble Kinfman, moſt degenerate King :
But Lords, we hcare this ſearefull tempeſt ſing,

Yet feeke no ſhelter to avoyd the ſtorme :

We fee the winde fit fore upon our ſailes,

And yet we ſtrike not, but ſecurely perſiſt.

Rof. We fee the very wracke that we muſt ſuffer,
And unavoyded is the danger now

For ſuffering ſo the cauſes of our wracke.

Nor. Not ſo : even through the hollow eyes of death,
I ſpie life peering : but I dare not ſay

How neere the tidings of our comfort is.

Wil. Nay let us ſhare thy thoughts, as thou doſt ours.

Rof. Be confident to ſpeake Northumberland,

We three, are but thy ſelſe, and ſpeaking ſo,

Thy words are but as thoughts, therefore be bold.

Nor. Then thus : I have from Port le Blan

A Bay in Britaine, receiv'd intelligence,

That Harry Duke of Hereford, Rainald Lord Cobham,
That late Broke from the Duke of Exeter,
His brother Archibifhop, late of Canterbury,

Sir Thomas Erpingham, Sir John Rainſon,

Sir John Norberie, Sir Robert Waterton, and Francis Quin.

All theſe well furniſhed by the Duke of Bruisne,

With eight tall chips, three thouſand men of warre
Are making hither with all due expediencie,

And ſhortly meane to touch our Northernne ſhore :

Perhaps they had ere this, but that they ſlay

The firſt departing of the King for Ireland.

If then we ſhall ſake off our ſlavifth yoake,
Impe out our drooping Countries broken wing,

Redeemcne from breaking pawne the bleminſh'd Crowne,

Wipe off the duſt that hides our Scepter's gilt,

And make high Majeſtie looke like it ſelſe,

Away with me in poſte to Ravenpurg,

But if you faint, as ſearing to doe ſo,

Stay, and be ſecret, and my ſelſe will go.

Rof. To horſe, to horſe, urge doubts to them that ſeues.

Wil. Hold out my horſe, and I will firſt be there.

Exenunt.

## Scena Secunda.

Enter Queene, Buffet, and Bagot.

Buffet. Madam, your Majeſty is too much ſad;
You promis'd when you parted with the King,
To laſ/ alſide ſelſe-harming heavineſſe,
And entertaine a cher ſe refuſed diſpoſition.

Quin. To pleafe the King, I did : to pleafe my ſelſe
I cannot do it : yet I know no cauſe

Why I ſhould welcome ſuch a gueſt as greeſe,

Save bidding farewell to ſo fewct a gueſt

As my ſweet Richard, yet againe me thinkes

Some unborne ſorrow, ripe in fortunes wombe

Is comming towards me, and my inward foule

With nothing trembles, at ſomething it greeves,

More than with parting from my Lord the King.

Buffet. Each ſubſtance of a greeſe hath twenty ſhadows
Which fewes like greeſe it ſelſe, but is not ſo :

For ſorrowes eye, glazed with blinding teares,

Divides one thing intire, to many objects,

Like perſpectives, which rightly gaz'd upon

Shew nothing but confusion, ey'd awry,

Diftinguſh ſorme : to your ſweet Majeſtie

Looking awry upon your Lords departure,

Finde ſhapes of greeſe, more then himſelſe to wale,

Which look'd on as it is, is nought but ſhadows

Of what it is not : then thrice-gracious Queene,

More then your Lords departure weepe not, more's not
Or if it be, 'tis with ſalſe ſorrowes eye,

Which for things true, weepe things imaginary.

Quin. It may be ſo : but yet my inward ſoule
Perſwades me it is otherwife : how ere it be,
I cannot but be ſad : to heavy ſad,

As though on thinking on no thought I thinke,
Makes me with heavy nothing faint and ſhrinke.

Buffet. 'Tis nothing but conceit (my gracious Lady.)
Quin.

Making the hard way sweet and delectable :
But I bethinke me, what a wearie way
From Ravenpurgh to Cottishold will be found,
In Roffe and Willoughby, wanting your company,
Which I protec't hath very much beguild
The tediousnesse, and proceſſe of my travell :
But theirs is sweetned with the hope to have
The prefent benefit that I poffeſſe :
And hope to joy, is little leſſe in joy,
Then hope enjoy'd : By this, the wearie Lords
Shall make their way feeem ſhort, as mine hath done,
By fight of what I have, your Noble Companie.

Bull. Of much leſſe value is my Companie,
Then your good words : but who comes here?

Enter H.Percy.

North. it is my Sonne, young Harry Percie,
Sent from my brother Worcester : Whence foever.

Harry, how fares your Vnckle ?

Percie. I had thought, my Lord, to have learn'd his health of you.

North. Why, is he not with the Queene ?

Percie. No, my good Lord, he hath for ſooke the Court,
Broken his ſtaſſe of Oſſice, and diſperſt

The Household of the King.

North. What was his reaſon ?

He was not so refolv'd, when we laſt ſpake together.

Percie. Because your Lordship was prociaimed Traitor,
But hee, my Lord, is gone to Ravenpurgh,
To offer ſervice to the Duke of Hereford,
And ſent me over by Barkely, to diſcover
What power the Duke of Yorke had levied there,
Then with direction to repair to Ravenpurgh.

North. Have you forgot the Duke of Hereford (Boy)?

Percie. No, my good Lord; for that I not forgot
Which ne're I did remember to my knowledge,
I never in my life did looke on him.

North. Then Iearne to know him now : this is the Duke.

Percie. My gracious Lord, I tender you my ſervice,
Such as it is, being tender, raw, and young,
Which elder dayes ſhall ripen, and confirme
To more approved ſervice, and deſert.

Bull. I thanke thee gentle Percie, and be ſure
I count my ſelfe in nothing elfe so happy,
As in a Soule remembering my good Friends :
And as my fortune ripens with thy Love,
It shall be still thy true Loves recompence,
My heart this covenant makes, my hand thus ſeaſes it.

North. How farre is it to Barkely ? and what ſtirre
Keeps good old Torke there, with his Men of Warre ?

Percie. There ſtands the Caſtle, by yond tuſt of Trees,
Mann'd with three hundred men, as I have heard,
And in it are the Lords of Torke, Barkely, and Seymour,
None elfe of Name, and noble ſtimate.

Enter Roffe and Willoughby.

North. Here come the Lords of Roffe and Willoughby,
Bloody with ſpurring, fierie red with hafte.

Bull. Welcome my Lords, I wot your love purfues
A banifh Traitor; all my Treafurie
Is yet but unfeft thankes, which more enrich'd,
Shall be your love, and labours recompence.

Roffe. Your prefence makes us rich, moſt Noble Lord.

Willo. And farre ſurmounts our labour to attaine it.

Bull. Evermore thankes, th'Exchequer of the poore,
Which till my infant-fortune comes to yeeres,
Stands for my Bountie : but who comes here ?

Enter Barkely.

North. It is my Lord of Barkely, as I gheſſe.

Bark. My Lord of Hereford, my Meflage is to you.

Bull. My Lord, my anſwer is to Lancaſter,
And I am come to ſeeke that Name in England,
And I muſt finde that Title in your Towne;
Before I make reply to aught you ſay.

Bark. Miftake me not, my Lord, 'tis not my meaning
to raze one title of your honour out.
To you, my Lord, I come (what Lord you will)
From the moſt glorious of this Land,
The Duke of Yorke, to know what pricks you on
To take advantage of the abſent time,
And fright our Native Peace with ſelfe-borne Armes.

Enter Yorke.

Bull. I ſhall not need transport my words by you,
Here comes his Grace in Perſon. My Noble Vnckle.

Tor. Shew me thy humble heart, and not thy knee,
Whose dutie is deceivable, and falſe.

Bull. My gracious Vnckle.

Tor. Tut, tut, Grace me no Grace, nor Vnckle me,
I am no Traytors Vnckle ; and that word Grace,
In an ungracious mouth, is but prophan.
Why have theſe banifh'd, and forbidden Legges,
Dar'd once to touch a Duit of Englands Ground?
But more then why, why have they dar'd to march
Somy miles upon her peacefull Boſome,
Frighting his pale fac'd Villages with Warre,
And oftentation of deſpifed Armes ?

Com't thou becauſe th'anoynted King is hence?
Why foolifh Boy, the King is left behind,
And in my loyall Boſome lyes his power.
Were I but now the Lord of ſuch hot youth,
As when brave Gaunt, thy Father, and thy ſelfe
Reſcued the Black Prince, that yong Chars of men,
From forth the Rankes of many thousand French :
Oh then, how quickly ſhould this Arme of mine,
Now Pritſoner to the Paliſ, chaſtife thee,
And minifter correction to thy Fault.

Bull. My gracious Vnckle, let me know my Fault,
On what condition ſtands it, and wherein ?

Tor. Even in condition of the worſt degree,
In groſſe Rebellions, and deſtetd Treafon :
Thou art a banifh'd man, and here art come
Before th' expiration of thy time,
In braving Armes againſt thy Soveraigne.

Bull. As I was banifh'd, I was banifh'd Hereſord,
But as I come, I come for Lancaſter.
And Noble Vnckle, I beſeech your Grace
Looke on my Wrongs with an indifferent eye :
You are my Father, for me thinkes in you
I fee old Gaunt alive. Oh then my Father,
Will you permit, that I ſhall ſtand condemn'd
A wandring Vagabond ; my Rights and Royalties
Pluckt from my armes perſorce, and given away
To upſtart Vnſtrifts ? Wherefore was I borne?
If that my Couſin King, be King of England,
It muſt be grauntaed, I am Duke of Lancaſter.
You have a Sonne, Aumerle, my Noble Kintman,
Had you firſt died, and he beene thus trod downe,
He ſhould have found his Vnckle Gauſa Father,
To rowze his Wrongs, and chafe them to the bay.
I am denyde to ſue my Liverie here,
And yet my Letters Patents give me leave :
My Fathers goods are all diſtraynd, and fold,
And theſe, and all, are all amiffie imployd.

What

What would you have me doe? I am a subject,
And challenge Law: Attorneys are denyde me,
And therefore perfonally I lay my claime
To mine inheritance of a tree De cent.

North. The Noble Duke hath beene too much abused.

Rolf. It stands your Grace upon, to doe him right.

Wilo. Safe men by his endowments are made great.

Tork. My Lords of England, let me tell you this,
I have had feeling of my Cofens Wrongs,

And labour'd all I could to doe him right:

But in this kind, to come in brauing Armes,
Be his owne Carver, and cut out his way,
To find out Right with wrongs, it may not be;

And you that doe abet him in this kind,
Cherish Rebellion, and are Rebels all.

North. The Noble Duke hath fworne his comming is
But for his owne; and for the right of that,
We all have strongly fworne to give him ayd,
And let him ne'r fee Ioy, that breakes that Oath.

Tork. Well, well, I fee the ille of these Armes,
I cannot mend it, I muft needes contefle,
Because my power is weake, and all ill left :
But if I could, by him that gave me life,
I would attach you all, and make you ftoope
Vnto the Soueraigne mercy of the King.
But since I cannot, be it knowne to you,
I doe remaine as Neuter. So fare you well,
Vnleff you pleafe to enter in the Caftle,
And there repofe you for this Night.

Bull. An offer Vnckle, that we will accept :
But we muft winne your Grace to goe with us
To Briftow Caffle, which they fay is held
By Buffie, Bagot, and their Complices,
The Caterpillers of the Commonwealth,
Which I have fworne to weed, and plucke away.

Tork. It may be I will go with you: but yet Ile pawfe,
For I am loth to breake our Countries Lawes :
Nor Friends, nor Foes, to me welcome you are,
Things paft redresse, are now with me paft care. Exeunt.

## Scæna Quarta.

Enter Salisbury, and a Captaine.

Capt. My Lord of Salisbury, we have ftayed ten dayes,
And hadly kept your Countrey men together,
And yet we heare no tidings from the King:
Therefore we will difperſe our felves: farewell.

Sal. Stay yet another day, thou truſtive Welchman,
The King repofeth all his confidence in thee.

Capt. Tis thought the King is dead, we will not flay:
The Bay-trees in our Countrey all are wither'd,
And Meteors fright the fixed Starres of Heaven;
The pale-fac'd Moone lookse bloody on the Earth,
And leane-lookt Prophets whifper fearefull change;
Rich men looke fad, and Ruffians dance and leape,
The one in feare, to lobe what they enjoy,
The other to enjoy by Rage, and Warre :
Thefe fignes fore-run the death of Kings.
Farewell, our Countreymen are gone and fled,
As well affur'd Richard their King is dead.

Sal. Ah Richard, with eyes of heauie mind,
I fee thy Glory, like a fhoruing Starre,
Fall to the bafe Earth, from the Firmament :
Thy Sunne fets weeping in the lowly Weft.
Witneſſing Stormes to come, Woe, and Vnreft:
Thy Friends are fled, to wait upon thy Foes,
And croſſely to thy good, all fortune goes.

Exit.

## Actus Tertius. Scæna Prima.

Enter Bullingbrooke, Yorke, Northumberland,
Rosſe, Percie, Willoughby, with Buffie
and Greene Prisoners.

Bull. Bring forth thefe men:
Buffie and Greene, I will not vex your foules,
(Since prefently your foules muſt part your bodyes)
With too much urging your pernicious lives,
For 'twere no Charitie : yet to waſh your blood
From off my hands, here in the view of men,
I will unfold some caufes of your deaths.
You have mis-led a Prince, a Royall King,
A happy Gentleman in Blood, and Lineaments,
By you unhappied, and disfigur'd cleane :
You have in manner with your finfull hours
Made a Divorce betwixt his Queene and him,
Broke the poffeffion of a Royall Bed,
And ſtaynd the beautie of a faire Queenes Cheekes,
With teares drawn fro her eyes, with your foule wrongs.
My feſſe a Prince, by fortune of my birth,
Neere to the King in blood, and neere in love,
Till you did make him miſ-interprete me,
Have ſtoopt my necke under your injuries,
And ſigh'd my Englifh breath in forraine Clouds,
Eating the bitter bread of banifhment :
While you have fed upon my Seignories,
Dit-park'd my Parkes and ſell'd my Forreft Woods :
From mine owne W indowes torne my Household Coat,
Raz'd out my Impreſſe, leaving me no ſigne,
Save mens opinions, and my living blood,
To ſhew the world I am a Gentleman.
This, and much more, much more then twice all this,
Condemnes you to the death : fee them delivered over
To execution, and the hand of death.

Buffie. More welcome is the ſtroke of death to me,
Then Bullingbrooke to England.

Gree. My comfort is, that Heaven will take our foules,
And plague Injuſtice with the paines of Hell.

Bull. My Lord Northumberland, fee them difpatch'd:
Vnckle, you ſay the Queene is at your Houſe,
For Heavens ſake fairely let her be entreated,
Tell her I ſend to her my kind commends;
Take ſpeciall care my Greetings be deliver'd.

Tork. A Gentleman of mine I have difpatch'd
With Letters of your love, to her at large.

Bull. Thankes gentle Vnckle: come Lords away,
To fight with Glendoure, and his Complices :
A while to worke, and after holliday.

Exeunt.

Scæna

Bull. Royally ? Why, it contaynes no King ?
Fer. Yes (my good Lord)

It doth containe a King : Kind Richard lyes
Within the limits of yond Lime and Stone,
And with him, the Lord Aumerle, Lord Salisbury,
Sir Stephen Scroope, befides a Clergman
Of holy reverence ; who, I cannot learne.

North. Oh, belike it is the Bifhop of Carlile.

But. Noble Lord,

Goe to the rude Ribs of that ancient Castle,
Through Brazen Trumpet fend the breath of Parle
Into his ruin'd Eares, and thus deliver :

Henry Bullingbrooke upon his knees doth kisse

King Richards hand, and fends allegiance
And true faith of heart to his royall Person : hither come
Even at his feet, to lay my Armes and power,
Provided, that my Banifhment repeal'd,
And Lands refor'd againe, be freely graunted :
If not, Ile uue th'advantage of my power,
And lay the fummers duft with showers of blood,
Raynd from the wounds of floughter'd Englishmen ;
The which, how farre off from the mind of Bullingbrooke

It is, fuch Crimfon Tempeſt should bedrench
The fresh greene Lap of faire King Richards Land,
My flooping duty tenderly ſhall ſhow.
Goe figuſe as much, while here we march

Vpon the Graſſe Carpet of this plane :

Let's march without the noyfe of threatening Drum,
That from this Cattles tatter'd Battlements

Our faire Appointments may be well perus'd.
Me thinkes King Richard and my ſelfe ſhould meete
With no ſſe terror than the Elements

Of Fire and Water, when their thundring ſmoake
At meeting teares the clondzie Cheekes of Heaven :

Be he the fire, Ile be the yeelding Water :
The Rage be his, while on the Earth I raine
My Waters on the Earth, and not on him.
March on, and marke King Richard how he looks.

Parle without, and anſwere witbin : then a Flourish.

Enter on the Walls, Richard, Carlile, Aumerle, Scroop,
Selisbury.

See, ſee, King Richard doth himſelfe appeare
As doth the bluſhing difcontented Sunne,
From out the fierie Portall of the Eaſt,
When he perceives the envious Clouds are bent

To dimme his glory, and to ſtaine the traſt
Of his bright paſſage to the Occident.

Tork. Yet looks he like a King : behold his Eye
(As bright as is the Eagles) lightens forth
Controlling Majeſtie : alack, alack, for woe,
That any harme ſhould ſtame ſo faire a ſhow.

Rich. We are amaz'd, and thus long have we ſtood
To watch the ſcarefull bending of thy knee,
Because we thought our ſelfe thy lawfull King :

And if we be, how dare thy joynts forget
To pay the awſull dutie to our preſence ?

If we be nor, ſhow us the Hand of God,
That hath diſtinſ'ſ'd us from our Stewardſhip,
For well we know, no hand of Blood and Bone
Can gripe the facred Handle of our Scepter,
Vnleſſe he doe prophane, ſteale or uſurpe.

And though you thinke, that all, as you have done,
Have torne their foules, by turning them from us,
And we are barren, and bereft of Friends :

Yer know, my Maſter, God Omnipotent,
Is muſtring in his Clouds, on our behalſe,

Armies of Peſtilence, and they ſhall ſtrike
Your Children yet unborne, and unbegot,
That lift your Vaffall Hands againſt my Head,
And threat the Glory of my precious Crowne.

Tell Bullingbrooke, for yond me thinkes he is,
That every ſtride he makes upon my Land,
Is dangerous Treafon : he is come to ope
The purple Teſtament of bleeding Warre ;
But ere the Crowne he looks for, live in peace,
Ten thouſand bloody crownes of Mothers Sonnes
Shall ill become the flower of Englands face,
Change the complexion of her Maid-pale Peace
To Scarlet indignation, and bedew

Her Paſtors Graſſe with faithfull English Blood.

North. The King of Heaven forbid our Lord the King
Should ſo with civill and uncivil Armes

Beruſh'd upon : Thy thrice-noble Couſin,
Harry Bullingbrooke, doth humbly kisse thy hand,
And by the Honorable Tombe he ſweares,
That ſtands upon your Royall Grandſires Bones,
And by the Royalties of both your bloods.

( Currents that (pring from one moſt gracious Head)
And by the buried Hand of Warlike Gaunt,
And by the Worth and Honour of himſelfe,
Comprifing all that may be ſworne, or faid,
His comming hither hath no further ſcope,
Than for his Lineall Royalties, and to begge
Infranchifement immediate on his knees:
Which on thy Royall partie granted once,
His glittering Armes he will commend to Ruſt,
His barbed Steedes to Stables, and his heart
To faithfull ſervic of your Maieſty :
This ſweares he, as he is a Prince, is juſt,
And as I am a Gentleman, I credit him.

• Rich. Northumberland, ſay thus : The King returns
His Noble Couſin is right welcome hither,
And all the number of his faire demands
Shall be accompliſh'd without contradiction :
With all the gracious utterance thou haſt,
Speake to his gentle hearing kind commends.
We doe debate our ſulſe (Couſin) doe we not,
To looke ſo poorely, and to ſpeake ſo faire ?
Shall we call back Northumberland and ſend
Defiance to the Traytor and ſo die?

Aum. No, good my Lord, let's fight with gentle words,
Till time lend friends, & friends their hopefull Swords.

Rich. Oh God, oh God, that ere this tongue of mine,
That layd the Sentence of dread Banifhment
On yond proud man, ſhould take it off againe
With words of foot : Oh that I were as great
As is my Griefe, or leſſer than my Name,
Or that I could forget what I have beene,
Or not remember what I muſt be now :

Swell ſt thou proud heart ? He give thee ſcope to beate,
Since foes have ſcope to beate both thee and me.

Rich. What muſt the King doe now ? muſt he ſubmit?
The King ſhall do it : Muſt he be depos'd ?
The King ſhall be contented : Muſt he loſe
The Name of King ? o' Gods Name let it goe.
Ile give my lewels for a ſet of beades,
My gorgeous Pallace, for a Hermitage,
My gay Apparell, for an Almes-mans Gowne,
My ſigur'd Goblets, for a Difh of Wood;
My Scepter, for a Palmers walking Staffe,

My

37

My Subjects, for a payre of carved Saints,
And my large Kingdome, for a little Grave,
A little little Grave, an obfure Grave.
Or He be buried in the Kings high-way,
Some way of common Trade, where Subjects feete
May howrely traver on their Soveraignes Head:
For on my heart they tread now, whileft I live ;
And buried once, why not upon my Head?

Aumnowe, thou weep'ft (my tender-hearted Coufin)
Wee'le make foule Weather with depifted Teares:
Our fighes, and they, fhall lodge the Summer Corne,
And make a Earth in this revoiting Land.
Or fhall we play the Waatons with our Woes,
And make fome prettie Match with fhedding Teares?
As thus: to drop them full upon one place,
Till they have fretted us a payre of Graves,
Within the Earth : and therein lay'd, their lyes
Two Kinfmen digg'd their Graves with weeping Eyes?
Would not this ill, doe well? Weil, well, I fee
I take but idly, and you mocke atme.
Moft mightie Prince, my Lord Northumberland,
What fayes King Bullingbrooke? Will his Majeftie
Give Richard leave to live, till Richard die ?
You make a Legge, and Bullingbrooke fayes I.

North. My Lord, in the bafe Court he doth attend
To peake with you, may it pleafe you to come downe.
Rich. Downe, downe I come, like glift'ring Phaeton,
Wanting the manage of unruly lades.

In the bafe Court ? bafe Court where Kings grow bafe,
Tocome at Traytors Calls, and doe them Grace.

In the bafe Court come down: down Court, down King,
For might-OWis fhrike, where mounting Larks fhould

Bull. What fayes his Majeftie ? (fing.)

North. Sorrow, and griefe of heart

Makes him Ipeake fondly, like a franticke man :
Yet he is come.

Bull. Stand all apart,

And flew faire dutie to his Majeftie.

My gracious Lord.

Rich. Faire Coufin.

You debafe your Princely Knee,
To make the bafe Earth proud with kifling it.
Me rather had, my Heart might feele your Love,
Than my unpleas'd Eye fee your Courteſe.

Vp Coufin, up, your Heart is up, I know,
Thus high at leaft, although your Knee be low.

Bull. My gracious Lord, I come but for mine
owne.

Rich. Your owne is yours, and I am yours, and
all.

Bull. So farre be mine, (my moft redoubted Lord.)
As my true ſervice ſhall deferue your love.

Rich. Well you deferv'd:
They well deferue to have,
That know the ſtrong'ft, and ſureft way to get.
Vnckle give me your hand: nay, drie your Eyes,
Teares ſhew their Love, but want their remedies.

Coufin I am to young too be your Father,
Though you are old enough to be my Heire.
What you will have, Ile give, and willing too,
For doe we muſt, what force will have us doe.

Set one towards London:

Coufin, is it fo ?

Bull. Yea, my good Lord.

Rich. Then I muſt not ſay, no.

Floriftb.

Exeunt.

## Scena Quinta.

Enter Queene and two Ladies.

Qu. What ſport ſhall we devife here in this Garden,
To drive away the heavie thought of Care ?

La. Madame, wee'le play at Bowles.

Qu. 'Twill make me thinke the World is full of Rubs,
And that my fortune runnes against the Byas.

La. Madame, wee'le Dance.

Qu. My Legges can keepe no meaſure in Delight,
When my poore Heart no meaſure keepes in Griefe.
Therefore no Dancing (Girle) ſome other ſport.

La. Madame, wee'le tell Tales.

Qu. Of Sorrow, or of Griefe ?

La. Of eyther, Madame.

Qu. Of neyther, Girle.

For it of Ioy, being altogether wanting,
It doth remember me the more of Sorrow :
Or if of Griefe, being altogether had,
It addes more Sorrow to my want of Ioy.

For what I have, I need not to repeat ;

And what I want, it bootes not to complaine.

La. Madame, Ile ſing.

Qu. 'Tis well that thou haſt caufe :

But thou should'ſt picaſe me better, would'ſt thou weepe.

La. I could weepe, Madame, would it doe you good.

Qu. And I could ſing, would weeping doe me good,
And never borrow any Teare of thee.

Enter a Gardiner, and two Servants.

But ſlay, here come the Gardiners,

Let's ſtep into the ſhadow of thefe Trees.

My wretchedneſſe, uato a Rowe of Pinnes,

They'le talke of ſtate : for every one doth ſo,

Againſt a Change; Woe is ſore-runne with Woe.

Gard. Goe binde thou up yond dangling Apricocks,
Which like unruly Children, make their Syre
Stoupe with oppreſſion of their prodigall weight :
Give fome ſupportance to the bending twigges.

Goe thou, and like an Executioner

Cut off the heads of too faſt growing ſprayes,
That looke too loftie in our Common-wealth :
All muſt be even, in our Governement.

You thus imploy'd, I will goe root away

The noyſome weedes, that without profit fucke

The Soyles fertilitie from wholelome flowers.

Ser. Why ſhould wee, in the compaſſe of a Pale,
Keepe Law and Forme, and due Proportion,
Shewing as in a Modell our firme ſtate ?

When our Sea-walled Garden, (the whole Land )

Is full of Weedes, her faireſt Flowers choakt up,

Her Fruit-trees all unpruin'd, her Hedges ruin'd,

Her Knots diforder'd, and her wholelome Hearbes

Swarming with Caterpillers:

Gard. Hold thy peace.

He that hath ſuffer'd this diſorder'd Spring,

Hath now himſeife met with the Fall of Leafe.

The Weeds that his broad-ſpreading Leaves did ſhelter,

That ſeem'd, in eating him, to hold him up,

Are pull'd up, Root and all, by Bullingbrooke :

I meane, the Earle of Wilſtshire, Buffie, Greene,

d

Ser. What

rike,
got,
Head,
Crowne,
he is,
land,
ope
arre;
in peace,
ers Sonnes
s face,
ale Peace

lth Blood.
ur the Lord the King
es
uſin,
thy hand,
es
es Bones,
ods,
tracious Head
unts,
elfe,
aid,
ope,
egge

es:
co Ruſt,
art

King returns,
er,
tion :
ends.
e not,
re ?
nd

gentle words,
peſuall Swords,
ongue of mine,
nant
aine
s great

cope to beat,
d me.
from Bulling-
ſt he ſubmit?
1?

gœ.
wne,

My

38

Ser. What are they dead?

Gard. They are,

And *Bullingbrooke* hath feiz'd the waſtefull King.
What pitty is it, that he had not trim'd
And dreſt his Land, as we this Garden, at time of ycare;
And wound the Barke, the skin of our Fruit-trees,
Leaſt being over-proud with Sap and Blood,
With too much riches it confound it ſelſe?
Had he done ſo, to great and growing men,
They might have liv'd to beare, and he to taſte
Their fruities of dutie. All ſuperfluous branches
We lop away, that bearing boughes may live:
Had he done ſo, himſelfe had borne the Crowne,
Which waſte and idle houres, hath quite thrown downe.

Ser. What thinke you the King shall be depos'd?

Gard. Depreſſe he is already, and depos'd

'Tis doubted he will be. Letters came laſt night
To a deere Friend of the Duke of Yorke,
That tell blacſe tydings.

Qu. Oh I am preſſt to death through want of ſpeaking:
Thou old Adams likeneſſe, ſet to drefſe this Garden :
How dares thy harſh tongue found this unpleaſing
What Eve ? what ſerpent hath ſuggedſted thee, (newes ?
To make a ſecond fall of curſed man ?
Why doſt thou ſay King Richard is depos'd?
Dar'ſt thou (thou little better thing then earth)
Divine his downſail? Say where, when, and how
Cam'ſt thou by this ill tydings? Speake thou wretch.

Gard. Pardon me Madam. Little joy have I
To breath theſe newes; yet what I ſay, is true;
King Richard, he is in the mighty hold
Of *Bullingbrooke*, their fortunes both are weigh'd:
In your Lords Scale, is nothing but himſelfe,
And ſome ſew Vanities, that make him light:
But in the Ballance of great *Bullingbrooke*,
Befides himſelfe, are all the Englilſh Peeres,
And with that oddes he weighs King Richard downe.
Poffe you to London, and you'l finde it ſo,
I ſpeake no more, then every one doth know.

Qu. Nimble miſchance, that art ſo light of ſoſte,
Doth not thy Embaſſage belong to me?
And am Iaſt that knowes it ? Oh thou think'ſt
To ſerve me laſt, that I may longeſt keepe
Thy ſorrow in my breaſt. Come Ladies goe,
To meet at London, Londons King in woe.
What, was I borne to this! that my ſad ſooke,
Should grace the Triumph of great *Bullingbrooke*!
Gard'ner, for telling me this newes of woe,
I would the Plants thou graft ſt, may never grow. Exit.

G. Poore Queene, to that thy ſtate might be no worſe,
I would my skill were ſubject to thy curſe:
Heere did the drop a teare, heere in this place
Ile ſet a Banke of Rew, (ſowre Herbe of Grace:)
Rue, eu'n for ruth, heere ſhortly ſhall be ſene,
In the remembrance of a Weeping Queene.
Exit,

Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Enter as to the Parliament, *Bullingbrooke*, *Anmerle*, *Nor-
thumberland*, Percie, *Fitz-Water*, Survey, Carlile, Abbot
of Westminſter. Herauld, Officers, and *Bagot*.

*Bullingbrooke*, Call forth *Bagot*.

Now *Bagot*, freely ſpeake thy minde,
What thou doſt know of Noble Glouſters death;
Who wrought it with the King, and who perform'd
The bloody Office of his timeleſe end.

Bag. Then fet before my face, the Lord *Anmerle*.

Bull. Cofin, stand forth and looke upon that man.

Bag. My Lord *Anmerle*, I know your daring tongue
Scornes to unfay, what it hath once deliver'd.

In that dead time, when Glouſters death was plotted,
I heard you ſay, Is not my arme of length,
That reacheth from the reſt full Englilſh Court
As farre as Callis, to my Vnckles head?

Amongſt much other talke, that very time,
I heard you ſay, that you had rather reſufe
The offer of an hundred thouſand Crownes,

Then *Bullingbrooke* returne to England; adding withal
How bleſt this Land would be, in this your Cofins death.

*Aum.* Princes and Noble Lords:

What anſwer ſhall I make to this bafe man ?

Shall I ſo much diſhonour my faire Starres,

On equal terms to give him chalſticement?

Either I muſt, or have mine honour ſpoyld

With th' Atteindor of his ſland'rous Lippes.

There is my Gage, the manall Scale of death
That markes thee out for Hell. Thou lyeſt,

And will maintaine what thou haſt faſd, is ſalſe,

In thy heart blood, though being all too bafe,

To ſtaine the temper of my Knightly ſword.

Bagot beſore me, thou ſhair not take it up.

*Aum.* Excepting one, I would he were the beſt
In all this prefence, that hath moved me ſo.

*Fitz.* If that thy valour stand on ſympathies:

There is my Gage, *Anmerle*, in Gage to thine:

By that faire Sunne, that ſhewes me where thou stand'st,

I heard thee ſay ( and vantingly thou ſpak'ſt it)

That thou were't cauſe of Noble Glouſters death.

If thou denieſt it, twenty times thou lyeſt,

And I will turne thy falſhood to thy heart,

Where it was forſorged with my Rapiers point.

*Aum.* Thou dar'ſt not (Coward) live to fee the day.

*Fitz.* Now by my Soule, I would it were this hour.

*Aum, Fuz water* thou art damn'd to hell for this.

*Per.* *Anmerle*, thou lyeſt : his Honor is as true
In this appeale, as thou art all unjut:

And that thou art ſo, there I throw my Gage

To prove it on thee, to th'extreameſt point

Of mortall breathing. Seize it, if thou dar'ſt.

*Aum.* And if I do not, may my hands rot off,
And never brandiſh more revengeſull Steele,
Over the glittering Helmet of my Foe.

*Surrey.* My Lord *Fitz-water*:

I do remember well, the very time

*Anmerle*, and you did talke.

*Fitz.* My Lord,

'Tis very true : You were in prefence then;

And you can witenſe with me, this is true.

*Surrey.* As ſalſe, by heaven,

As heaven it ſelſe is true.

*Fitz.* *Surrey, thou Lyeſt.*

*Surrey.* Dihonourable Boy;

That Lye, shall ſo lie ſo heavy on my Sword,

That it shall render Vengeance and Revenge,

Till thou the Lye-giver, and that Lye, doe Iye

In earth as quiet, as thy Fathers Scull.

In proofe whereof, there is mine Honors pawne,

Engage it to the Triall, if thou dar'ſt.

*Fitz.*

Fitzw. How fondly do't thou spurre a forward Horfe?
If I dare eate, or drinke, or breath, or live,
I dare meete Surry in a Wilderneſſe,
And ipit upon him, whilft I bay his Lyes,
And Lyes, and Lyes : there is my bond of Faith,
To eye thee to my ſtrong Correction.
A I intended to thrive in this new World,
Aumerle is guilty of my true Appeale.
Besides, I heard the banifh'd Norfolke ſay,
That thou Aumerle didst ſend two of thy men,
To execute the Noble Duke at Callis.

Aum. Some honest Chriſtian truſt me with a Gage,
That Norfolke lyes : here doe I throw downe this,
If he may be repcaſd, to try his honour.

Bull. Theſe differences ſhall all reſt under Gage,
Till Norfolke be repeal'd : repeal'd he ſhall be;
(And though mine Enemey) reſtor'd againe
To all his Lands and Seignories : when hee's return'd,
Againft Aumerle we will inſorce his Tryall.

Carl. That honorable day ſhall ne're be ſeene.

Many a time hath banifh'd Norfolke ſought

For Iſeu Chriſt, in glorious Chriſtian field
Streaming the Enſigne of the Chriſtian Croſſe
Againſt blacke Pagans, Turkes, and Saracens :
And toy'd with workes of Warre, retyr'd himſelfe
To Italy, and there at Venice gave
His Body to that pleafant Countries Earth,
And his pure Soule unto his Captaine Chriſt,
Vader whoſe Colours he had ſought to long.

Bull. Why Bifhop, is Norfolke dead ?

Carl. As ſure as I live my Lord.

Bull. Sweet peace conduſt his ſweet Soule

To the Bofome of good old Abraham.

Lords Appealants, your differences ſhall all reſt under gage,
Till we alligne you to your dayes of Tryall.

### Enter Torke.

Yorke. Great Duke of Lancaſter, I come to thee
From Plume-pluckt Richard, who with willing Soule
Adopts thee Heire, and his high Scepter yeelds
To the poſſeffion of thy Royall Hand.
Ascend his ſhrone, defending now from him,
And long live Henry, of that Name the Fourth.

Bull. in Gods Name, Ile ascend the Regall throne.

Carl. Mary, Heaven forbid.

Worſt in this Royall Prefence may I ſpeake,
Yet beſt be Smoking me to ſpeake the truth.
Would God, that any in this Noble Prefence
Were enough Noble to be upright Indige
Of Noble Richard; then true Noblenefle would
Leane him forbeareance from ſo foule a Wrong.
What Subjeſt can give Sentence on his King ?
And who fits here, that is not Richard's Subjeſt ?
Theeves are not judg'd, but they are by heare,
Although apparent guilt be ſeene in them :
And ſhall the figure of Gods Maſejtie,
His Captaine, Steward, Deputie eſt,

Anoyuted, Crown'd and planted many yeeres,
Be judg'd by ſubjeſt, and inferior breath,
And he himſelfe not prefent ? Oh, forbid it, God,
That in a Chriſtian Climate, Soules reſinde
Should ſhow ſo heayous, blacke, obſene a deed.
I ſpeake to Subjeſts, and a Subjeſt ſpeakes,
Stirr'd up by Heaven, thus boldly for his King.
My Lord of Hereſtore here, whom you call King,
Is a foule Traytor to prowd Hereſords King.
And if you Crowne him, let me prophecie,

The blood of Englifh ſhall manure the ground,
And future ages groane for his foule Act.

Peace ſhall goe ſleepe with Turkes and Inſidels,

And in this Seat of Peace, tumultuous Warres
Shall Kinne with Kinne, and Kinde with Kinde confound.

Diforder, Horror, Feare, and Mutinie

Shall here inhabite, and this Land be call'd

The field of Golgotha, and dead mens Sculls.

Oh, if you reare this Houſe, againſt this Houſe

It will the wofulſet Divifion prove,

That ever ſell upon this curſed Earth.

Prevent it, reſift it, let it not be ſo,

Leaſt Child, Child's Children cry againſt you, Woe!

North. Well have you argu'd Sir: and for your paines,
Of Capitall Treafon we arreſt you here.

My Lord of Weſtminſter, be it your charge,

To keepe him ſafely, till his day of Tryall.

May it pleafe you, Lords, to grant the Commons ſuit ?

Bull. Fetch hither Richard, that in common view
He may ſurrender : for we ſhall proceede
Without ſuſpition.

Tor. I will be his Conduct.

Exit.

Bull. Lords, you that here are under our Arreſt,
Procure your Sureties for your Dayes of Anſwer :

Little are we beholding to your Love,

And little look'd for at your helping Hands.

### Enter Richard and Torke.

Rich. Alack, why am I ſent for to a King,
Before I have ſhooke off the Regall thoughts
Wherewith I reign'd ? I hardly yet have learn'd
To infinuate, flatter, bowe, and bend my Knee.

Give Sorrow leave a while, to returne me

To this ſubſuſlion. Yet I will remember

The favours of theſe men : were they not mine ?

Did they not ſometime cry, All hayle to me?

So Indas did to Chriſt : but he in twelve,
Found truth in all, but one ; I, in twelve thouſand, none.

God faveth the King : will no man bay, Amen ?

Am I both Prieſt and Clarke ? well then, Amen.

God faveth the King, although I be not he :

And yet Amen, if Heaven doe thinke him me.

To doe what ſervicem, am I ſent for hither ?

Tor. To doe that office of thine owne good will,

Which tyred Maſejtie did make thee offer :

The Refijnation of thy State and Crowne

To Henry Bullingbrook.

Rich. Give me the Crown. Here Conſin, ſeize the Crown:
Here Conſin, on this ſide my Hand, on that ſide thine.

Now is this Golden Crowne like a deepe Well,

That owes two Buckets, filling one another,

The empier ever dancing in the ayre,

The other downe, unſeene, and full of Water :

That Bucket downe, and full of Teares am I,

Drinking my Griefes, whilft you mount up on high.

Bul. I thought you had beene willing to refiſe.

Rich. My Crowne I am, but fill my Griefes are mine:
You may my Glories and my State depofe,

But not my Griefes; ſtill am I King of thatof.

Bull. Part of your Cares you give me with your Crown.

Rich. Your Cares ſet up, do not pluck my Cares down.
My Care, is loſſe of Care, by old Care done,

Your Care, is gaine of Care, by new Care wonne :

The Cares I give, I have, though given away,

They tend the Crowne, yet it fill with me they ſlay :

Bull. Are you contented to refiſe the Crowne ?

d 2

Rich. I,

40

Rich. I, no; no, I : for I must nothing bee :
Therefore no, no, for I resign to thee.
Now, marke me how I will undoe my selfe.
I give this heavie Weight from off my Head,
And this unwieldie Scepter from my Hand,
The pride of Kingly fway from out my Heart,
With mine owne Teares I Wath away my Blame,
With mine owne Hands I give away my Crowne,
With mine owne Tongue denie my Sacred State,
With mine owne Breath releafe all dutious Oathes :
All Pompe and Majestie I doe forfware :
My Manors, Rents, Revenues, I forgoe ;
My Afts, Decrees, and Statutes I denie :
God pardon all Oathes that are broke to me,
God keepe all Vowes unbroke are made to thee.
Make me, that nothing have, with nothing griev'd,
And thou with all pleas'd, that haft all atchiev'd,
Long mayt thou live in Richards Seat to fit,
And foone lye Richard in an Earthie Pit.
God fave King Henry, un-King'd Richard layes,
And fend him many yeeres of Sunne-like dayes.
What more remaines ?

North. No more : but that you reade
Thefe Accufations, and thefe grievous Crymes,
Committed by your Perfon, and your followers,
Againft the State, and Profit of this Land :
That by confelling them, the Soules of men
May deeme, that you are worthily depos'd.

Rich. Muft I doe so ? and muft I ravell out
My weav'd-up follyes ? Gentle Northumberland,
If thy Offences were upon Record,
Would it not fhame thee, in ſo faire a troupe,
To reade a Lecture of them ? If thou would'it,
There ſhould'it thou finde one haynous Article,
Containing the depofing of a King,
And cracking the ftrong Warrant of an Oath,
Mark'd with a Blot, damn'd in the Booke of Heaven.
Nay, all of you, that ſtand and looke upon me,
Whil't that my wretchedneſe doth bait my ſelfe,
Though ſome of you, with Pilate wath your hands,
Swowing an outward pittie : yet you Pilates
Have here deliver'd me to my fowre Croſſe,
And Water cannot wath away your finne.

North. My Lord difpatch, reade o're theſe Articles.

Rich. Mine Eyes are full of Teares, I cannot fee :
And yet falt-Water blindes them not ſo much,
But they can fee a fort of Traytors here.
Nay, if I turne mine Eyes upon my ſelfe,
I finde my ſelfe a Traytor with the reſt :
For I have given here my Soules conſent,
T'undeck the pompous Body of a King ;
Made Glory bafe ; a Soveraigne, a Slave;
Prowd Majestie, a Subjeſt ; State, a Pefant.

North. My Lord.

Rich. No Lord of thine, thou haught-inſulting man :
No, nor no mans Lord : I have no Name, no Title;
No, not that Name was given me at the Font,
But tis uſurpt: alack the heavie day,
That I have worne ſo many Winters out,
And know not now, what Name to call my ſelfe.
Oh, that I were a Mockerie, King of Snow,
Standing before the Sunne of Bullingbrooke,
To melt my ſelfe away in Water-drops.
Good King, great King, and yet not greatly good,
And if my word be Sterling yet in England,
Let it command a Mirror hither ſtraight,

That it may ſhew me what a Face I have,
Since it is Bankrupt of his Majestie.

Bull. Goe ſome of you, and fetch a Looking-Glasse.
Nor. Reade o're this Paper, while the Glasse doth come.
Rich. Fiend, thou torments me, ere I come to Hell.

Bull. Vrge it no more, my Lord Northumberland.
North. The Commons will not then be fatisfy'd,
Rich. They ſhall be fatisfy'd : Ile reade enough,
When I doe fee the very Booke indeede,
Where all my finnes are writ, and that's my ſelfe.

Enter one with a Glasse.
Give me that Glasse, and therein will I reade.

No deeper wrinkleſt yet? hath forrow drucke
So many Blowes upon this Face of mine,
And made no deeper Wounds? Oh flatt'ring Glasse,
Like to my followers in propertie,
Thou do't beguile me. Was this Face, the Face
That every day, under his Houſe-hold Roofe,
Did keepe ten thoufand men ? Was this the Face,
That like the Sunne, did make beholders winke?
Is this the Face, which fac'd ſo many follyes,
That was at laft out-fac'd by Bullingbrooke ?

A brittle Glory ſhineth in this Face,
As brittle as the Glory, is the Face,
For there it is, crackt in an hundred hunders.
Marke filent King, the Morall of this ſport,
How foone my Sorrow hath deſtroy'd my Face.
Bul. The ſhadow of your Sorrow hath deſtroy'd
The ſhadow of your Face.
Rich. Say that againe.
The ſhadow of my Sorrow : ha, let's fee,
'Tis very true, my Griefe lyes all within,
And theſe externall manners of Laments,
Are merely ſhadowes to the unſene Griefe,
That ſwellws with ſilence in the tortur'd Soule.
There lyes the ſubſtance : and I thankee thee King
For thy great bounty, that not onely giv't
Me caufe to waile, but teacheſt me the way
How to lament the caufe. Ile begge one Boone,
And then be gone, and trouble you no more.
Shall I obtaine it?

Bul. Name it, faire Couſin.

Rich. Faire Couſin ? I am greater than a King :
For when I was a King, my flatterers
Were then but ſubjects ; being now a ſubjeſt,
I have a King heere to my flatterer :
Being ſo great, I have no neede to begge.

Bul. Yet aske.

Rich. And ſhall I have?

Bul. You ſhall.

Rich. Then give me leave to goe.

Bul. Whither ?

Rich. Whither you will, ſo I were from your ſights.

Bul. Goe ſome of you, convey him to the Tower.

Rich. Oh good ; convey : Conveyers are you all,
That rife thus nimbly by a true Kings fall.

Bul. On Wedneſday next, we ſolemnly ſet downe
Our Coronation : Lords, prepare your ſelves. Exem.
Abbot. A woſull Pageant have we here beheld.
Carl. The Woe's to come, the Children yet unborne,
Shall feele this day as ſharpe to them as Thorne.

Aum. You holy Clergie-men, is there no Plot
to rid the Realme of this pernicious Blot?

Abbot. Before I freely ſpeake my minde heerein,
You ſhall not onely take the Sacrament,
To bury mine intents, but alſo to effect

What

What ever I shall happen to devife.
If your Browes are full of Discontent,
Your Heart of Sorrow, and your eyes of Teares,
Come home with me to Supper, Ile lay a Plot
Shall shew us all a merry day.

Exeunt.

Aflus Quintus. Scæna Prima.

Enter Queene, and Ladies.

Qu. This way the King will come : this is the way
To Julius Caesars ill-erected Tower :
To whose flint Bofome, my condemned Lord
Is doom'd a Prifoner, by proud Bullingbrooke.
Here let us reft, if this Rebellious Earth
Have any refting for her true Kings Queene.
Enter Richard and Guard.

But soft, but fee, or rather do not fee,
My faire Roſe wither : yet looke up; behold,
That you in pittie may diſolve to dew,
And waſh him fresh againe with true-love Teares.
Ah thou, the Modell where old Troy did ſtand,
Thou Mappe of Honour, thou King Richards Tombe,
Andnot King Richard : thou molt beauteous Inne,
Why ſhould hard-favor'd Griefe be lodg'd in thee,
When Triumph is become au Ale-houſe Gueſt?
Rich. Ioyne not with grieſe, faire Woman, do not ſo,
To make my end too ſudden: learne good Soule,
To thinke our former State a happy Dreame,
From which awak'd, the truth of what we are,
Shewes us but this. I am ſworne Brother (Sweet)
To grim Nefſeſitie; and he and I
Will keepe a League till Death. High thee to France,
And Cloyſter thee in ſome Religious Houſe:
Our holy lives muſt winne a new worlds Crowne,
Which our propheares houres here have ſtricken downe
Qn. What, is my Richard both in ſhape and minde
Transform'd, and weaken'd? Hath Bullingbrooke
Depos'd thine Intellect? hath he beene in thy Heart?
The Lyon dying thrufſeth forth his Paw,
And wounds the Earth, if nothing eſſe, with rage
To beore-pow'r'd: and wilt thou, Pupill-like,
Take thy Correction mildly, kiffe the Rodde,
And fawne on rage with bafe humility,
Whichart a Lyon and a King of Beaſts?
Rich. A King of beaſts indeed: if aught but Beaſts,
I had beene ſtill a happy King of Men.

Good (fometime Queene) prepare thee hence for France:
Thinke I am dead, and that even here thou tak'st,
As from my Death-bed, my laſt living leave.
In Winters tedious Nights fit by the fire
With good old folkes, and let them tell thee Tales
Of wofull Ages, long agoe betide:
And ere thou bid good-night, to quit their grieſe,
Tell thou the lamentable fall of me,
And ſend the hearers weeping to their Beds :
For why ? the fenceleſſe Brands will ſympathize
The heavi'e aceppment of my moving Tongue,
And in compaſſion, weepe the fire our:
And ſome will mourne in Aſhes, ſome coale-blacke,
For the depoffing of a rightfull King.

Enter Northumberland.

North. My Lord, the mind of Bullingbrooke is chang'd.

You muſt to Pomfret, not unto the Tower.
And Madame, there is order ta'n for you :
With all ſwift ſpeed, you muſt away to France.

Rich. Northumberland, thou Ladder wherewithal
The mounting Bullingbrooke aſcends my THRONE,
The time ſhall not be many houres of age,
More than it is, ere foule finne, gathering head,
Shall breake into corruption: thou ſhalt thinke,
Though he devide the Realme, and give thee halfe,
It is too little, helping him to all:
He ſhall thinke, that thou which know'st the way
To plant unrightfull Kings, wilt know againe,
Being ne're ſo little urg'd, another way,
To plucke him headlong from th' ſurpur'd THRONE.
The Love of wicked friends converts to Feare;
That Feare, to Hate; and Hate turns one, or both,
To worthie Danger, and deſerved Death.

North. My guilt be on my Head, and there an end :
Take leave, and part, for you muſt part forthwith.

Rich. Doubly divorc'd (bad men) ye violate
A two-fold Marriage; 'twixt my Crowne, and me;
And then betiwixt me, and my married Wife.
Let me un-kiffle the Oath 'twixt thee and me;
And yet not ſo, for with a kiffle 'twas made.

Partus Northumberland: I, towards the North,
Where ſhivering Cold and Sickneſſe pines the Clyme:
My Queene to France: from whence, let forth in pompe,
She came adorned hither like Sweet May:
Sent backe like Hollowmas, or ſhort'ſt of day.

Qu. And muſt wee be divided? muſt we part?
Rich. I, hand from hand (my Love) and heart frò heart.
Qn. Banifh us both, and ſend the King with me.
North. That were ſome Love, but little Pollicy.
Qn. Then whither he goes, thither let me goe.
Rich. So two together weping, make one Woe,
Weepe thou for me in France; I, for thee here:
Better farre off, than neere, be ne're the neere.

Goe, count thy Way with Sighes; I, mine with Groanes.

Qn. So longeſt Way ſhall have the longeſt Moanes.

Rich. Twice for one ſtop Ile groane, the way being ſhort,
And peee the way out with a heavy heart.

Come, come, in wooing Sorrow let's be briefe,
Since wedding it, there is ſuch length in Grieſe:
One Kiffle ſhall ſtop our mouths, and dumbly part;
Thus give I mine, and thus take I thy heart.

Qn. Give me mine owne againe: 'twere no good part,
To take on me to keepe, and kill thy heart.
So, now I have mine owne againe, be gone,
That I may ſtrive to kill it with a groane.

Rich. We make Woe wanton with this fond delay:
Once more adjeu, the reſt let Sorrow lay.

Exeunt.

Scæna Secunda.

Enter Torke, and his Duchefle.

Duch. My Lord, you told me you would tell the reſt,
When weeping made you breake the ſtory off,
Of our two Couſins comming into London.

Tor. Where did I leave?

Dut. At that ſtoppe, my Lord,
Where rude miſ-govern'd hands, from Windowes tops,
Threw duſt and rubbiſh on King Richards head.

Tor. Then

d 3

l'acing Glaſſe,
the doth come
me to Hell,
umberland,
e ſatisfy'd,
enough,

y ſelfe.

de.
rucke

ing Glaſſe,

the Face
ofe,
the Face,
vinke?
es,

rs.

y Face,
detroy'd

icke
oule,
the
King
ay
Boone,
more.

King:
object,

ry your fightes.
the Tower,
you all,

let downe
lves. Exeunt.
e beheld.
yet unborne.
o Plot

haerein,

What

Bull. I pardon him as heaven shall pardon me.

Dut. O happy vantage of a kneeling knee :

Yet am I fiche for feare : Speake it againe,
Twice faying Pardon, doth not pardon twaine,
But makes one pardon strong.

Bull. I pardon him with all my heart.

Dut. A God on earth thou art.

Bul. But for our trufly brother-in-Law, the Abbot,
With all the reft of that conforted crew,
Deftruction ftraight shall dogge them at the heele:
Good Vnkle helpe to order feverall powres
To Oxford, or where ere thefe Traitors are :
They fhall not live within this world I fware,
But I will have them once know where.

Vnkle farewell, and Cofin adieu :

Your mother well hath prayd, and prove you true.

Dut. Come my old fon, I pray heaven make thee new.

Exit.

Enter Exton and Servant.

Ext. Didft thou not marke the King what words he ſpake ?

Have I no friend will rid me of this living feare :
Was it not for ?

Ser. Thofe were his very words.

Ex. Have I no Friend? (quoth he :) he ſpake it twice,
And urg'd it twice together, did he not ?

Ser. He did.

Ex. And ſpeaking it, he wifly look'd on me,
As who ſhall fay, I would thou wer't the man
That would divorce this terror from my heart;
Meaning the King at Pomfret : Come, let's goe;
I am the Kings friend, and will rid his Foe.

exit.

## Scena Quarta.

Enter Richard.

Rich. I have bin fludying, how to compare
This Prifon where I live, unto the World:
And for becaufe the world is populous,
And here is not a Creature, but my ſelfe,
I cannot doe it: yet I le hammer't out.
My Braine, Ile prove the Female to my Soule,
My foule, the Father; and thefe two beget
A generation of till breeding Thoughts;
And theſe fame Thoughts, people this Little World
In humors, like the people of this world,
For no thought is contented. The better ſort,
As thoughts of things Divine, are intermixt
With ſcruples, and do fet the Faith it ſelfe
A gainſt the Faith: as thus: Come little ones: & then again,
It is as hard to come, as for a Camell
To thred the poſterne of a Needles eye.
Thoughts tending to Ambition, they do plot
Vnlikely wonders; how theſe vaine weake nailes
May teare a paffage through the Flinty ribbes
Of this hard world, my ragged prifon walles:
And for they cannot, dye in their owne pride.
Thoughts tending to Content, flatter themſelves,
That they are not the firſt of Fortunes flaves,
Nor ſhall not be the laſt. Like filly Beggars,
Who fitting in the Stockes, refuge their ſhame
That many have, and others muſt fit there;
And in this Thought, they finde a kind of eafe,

Bearing their owne misfortune on the backe
Of ſuch as have before indur'd the like.
Thus play I in one Prifon, many people,
And none contented. Sometimes am I King;
Then Treaſon makes me wifh my ſelfe a Beggar;
And fo I am. Then crushing penurie,
Perſwades me, I was better when a King :
Then am Iking'd againe : and by and by,
Thinke that I am un-king'd by *Bullingbrooke*,
And ſtraight am nothing. But what ere I am,
Nor I, nor any man, that but man is,
With nothing ſhall be pleas'd, till he be eas'd
With being nothing. Muficke do I heare?
Ha, ha? keefe time : How ſowre ſweet Muficke is,
When Time is broke, and no Proportion kept ?
So is it in the Muficke of mens lives:
And here have I the dantineſſe of care,
To heare time broke in a diforder'd ſtring :
But for the Concord of my State and Time,
Had not an eare to heare my true Time broke.
I waſted Time, and now doth Time waſte me:
For now hath Time made me his numbring clocke;
My Thoughts, are minutes; and with Sighes they iate,
Their watches to mine eyes, the outward Watch,
Whereto my finger, like a Diall's point,
Is pointing ſtill, in clenſing them from teares.
Now fir, the found that reſs what houre it is,
Are clamorous groanes, that fir'ke upon my heart,
Which is the bell: fo Sighes, and Teares, and Grones,
Shew Minutes, Houres, and Times: O but my Time
Runs poaſing on, in *Bullingbrooke's* proud joy,
While I ſtand fooling heere, his jacke o' th' Clocke,
This Muficke mads me, let it found no more,
For though it have holpe madmen to their wits,
Yet bleſſing on his heart that gives it me;
For 'tis a ſigne of love, and love to *Richard*,
Is a ſtrange Brooch, in this all-hating world.

Enter Groome.

Groo. Haile Royall Prince,

Rich. Thankes Noble Peere.

The cheapſt of us, is ten groates too deere.
What art thou ? And how com'ft thou hither?
Where no man ever comes, but that ſad dogge
That brings me food, to make misfortune live ?

Groo. I was a poore Groome of thy Stable (King)
When thou wer't King, who travelling towards Yorke,
With much adoo, at length have gotten leave
To looke upon my (sometimes Royall) maſters face.
O how it yern'd my heart, when I beheld
In London ſtreetes, that Coronation day,
When *Bullingbrooke* rode on Roane Barbary,
That horſe, that thou ſo often haſt beſtrid,
That horſe, that Iſo carefully have dreſt.

Rich. Rode he on Barbary? Tell me gentle Friend,
How went he under him ?

Groo. So proudly, as if he had difdain'd the ground.

Rich. So proud, that *Bullingbrooke* was on his backe;
That Iade haſh eate bread from my Royall hand.
This hand hath made him proud with clapping him.
Would he not ſtumble ? Would he not fall downe
(Since Pride muſt have a fall) and breake the necke
Of that proud man, that did uſurpe his backe ?
Forgivenſſe horſe : Why do I raile on thee,
Since thou created to be aw'd by man
Was't borne to beare? I was not made a horſe,

And

And yet I beare a burthen like an Affe,
Spur-gall'd, and tyr'd by jauncing *Bullingbrooke*.
*Enter Keeper with a Dist.*

*Keep.* Fellow, give place, here is no longer fly.
*Rich.* If thou love me, 'tis time thou wer't away.

*Gros.* What my tongue dares nor, that my heart shall say.
*Exit.*

*Keep.* My Lord, wilt please you to fall too?

*Rich.* Talte of it firſt, as thou wer't wont to doo.

*Keep.* My Lord I dare not: Sir *Pierce* of Exton,

*Who lately came from th' King, commands the contrary.*
*Rich.* The divell take *Henrie* of Lancaſter, and thee;
*Patience is ſtale, and I am weary of it.*

*Keep.* Helpe, helpe, helpe.

*Enter Exton and Servants.*

*Ri.* How now? what means Death in this rude affait?
Villaine, thine owne hand yeelds thy deaths instruments,
Go thou and fill another roome in hell.
*Exton* strikes him downe.

## *Scena Quinta.*

*Flourish.* *Enter Bullingbrooke, Yorke, with other Lords & attendants.*

*Bull.* Vnkle Yorke, the lateſt newes we heare;
Is that the Rebers have conſum'd with fire
Our Towne of Ciceter in Glouceſterſhire,
But whether they be tane or ſaine, we heare not..

*Enter Northumberland.*

*Welcome my Lord : What is the newes ?*

*Ner.* First to thy Sacred State, with I all happineſſe:

The next newes is, I have to London ſent

*The heads of Salisbury, Spencer, Blunt, and Kent:*

The manner of their taking may appeare

At large diſcourſed in this paper here.

*Bull.* We thanke thee gentle *Percy* for thy paines,

And to thy worth will addre right worthy gaines.

*Enter Fitz-waters.*

*Fitz.* My Lord, I have from Oxford ſent to London,
The heads of *Broccas*, and Sir *Bennet Seely*,

Two of the dangerous conſorted Traitors,

That fought at Oxford, thy dire over throws.

*Bull.* Thy paines *Fitz waters* shall not be forſот,
Right Noble is thy merit, well I wot.

*Enter Percy and Carlile.*

*Per.* The grand Conſpirator, *Abbot of Westminſter*,
With clog of Conſcience, and ſowre melanſholly,
Hath yeelded up his body to the grave :
But here is *Carlile*, living to abide

*Thy Kingly doome, and ſentence of his pride.*

*Bull.* *Carlile*, this is your doome :

*Choose out ſome ſecret place, ſome reverend roome
More than thou haſt, and with it joy thy ſelfe :*

*Enter Exton with a Coffin.*

*Exton.* Great King, within this Coffin I prefent

*Thy buried feare. Herein all breathleſſe lies*

*The mightieſt of thy greateſt enemies*

*Richard of Burdeaux, by me hither brought.*

*Bull. Exton.* I thanke thee not, for thou haſt wrought
A deede of Slaughter, with thy fatall hand,
Vpon my head, and all this famous Land.

*Ex.* From your owne month my Lord, did I this deed.

*Bull.* They love not poyſon, that do poyſon neede,
Nor do I thee: though I did wifh him dead,

*Excune.*

FJNJS.

cke

ing,

Beggar;

oke,

Muficke

as'd

e

 kept?

r:

oke'

me

ing

clocke;

they

are

ares.

it

is,

my

heart,

and

Grones,

t

my

Time

joy,

ch

Clocke,

wits,

d:

re.

ther?

dogge

e

live?

able

(King)

Yorke,

y.

tle Friend,

the ground,

on his backe;

hand.

ing him.

all downe

the necke?

ke?

e,

And

The Life and Death of Henry the fourth.

49

Then would I have his Harry, and he mine:
But let him from my thoughts. What thinke you Coze
Of this young Percess pride? The Prifoners
Which he in this adventure hath hapriz'd,
To his owne ufe he keepes, and fends me word
I fhall have none but Mordake Earle of Fife.
West. This is his Vnckles teaching. This is Worcester

Malevolent to you in all Aspects :

Which makes him prune himſelfe, and bristle up
The creft of Youth againſt your Dignity.

King. But I have ſent for him to anſwer this :
And for this caufe a while we muſt neglect
Our holy purpofe to Ierusalem.

Cofin, on Wednesday next, our Councell we will hold
At Windsor, to informe the lords:

But come your ſelſe with ſpeed to us againe,
For more is to be faid, and to be done,
Than out of anger can be uttered.

West. I will my Liege.

Exeunt.

## Scæna Secunda.

Enter Henry Prince of Wales, Sir John Fal-
ſaffe, and Pointz.

Fal. Now Hal, what time of day is it Lad ?

Prince. Thou art so fat-witted with drinking of old
Sacke and unbuttoning thee after Supper, and fleeping
upon benches in the afternoon, that thou haſt forgotten
to demand that truely, which thou wouſedt truly know.
What a divell haſt thou to do with the time of the day?
unleſſe hours were cups of Sacke, and minutes Capons,
and clockes the tongues of Bawdes, and dialls the figures
of Leaping-houſes, and the bleſſed Sunne himſelfe a ſaſe
hot Wench in Flame-coloured Taffata, I ſee no reaſon,
why thou ſhouſedt bee ſo ſuperfluous, to demand the
time of the day.

Fal. Indeed you came neere me now Hal. for we that
take Purſes, go by the Moone and ſeven Starres, and not
by Phoebus bee, that wand'ring Knight to faire. And I
pray thee ſweet Wagge, when thou art King, as God ſave
thy Grace, Maiety I should fay, for grace thou wilt have
none.

Prin. What ? none ?

Fal. No; not to much as will ſerve to be Prologue to
an Egge and Butter.

Prin. well, how then? Come roundly, roundly.

Fal. Marre then, ſweet Wagge, when thou art King,
let not us that are Squires of the Nights body, bee call'd
Theeves of the Dayes beautie. Let us be Di'anass Forre-
flers, Gentlemen of the Shade, Minions of the Moone;
and let men ſay, we be men of good Government, being
governed as the Sea is, by our noble and chaſt miſtris the
Moone, under whose countenance we ſteale.

Prin. Thou fay'ſt well, and it holds well too: for the
fortune ofus that are the Moones men, doeth ebbe and
flow like the Sea, being governed as the Sea is, by the
Moone: as for proofe. Now a purſe of Gold moſt reſo-
lutely ſnatch'd on Monday night, and moſt diffusely
ſpent on Tuesday Morning; got with ſwearing, Lay by:
and ſpent with crying, Bring in : now, in as low an ebbe
as the foot of the Ladder; and by and by in as high a flow
as the ride of the Gallowes.

Fal. Thou fay'ſt true Lad : and is not my Hofſeffe of
the Taverne a moſt ſweet Wench ?

Prin. As is the hony, my old Lad of the Caſtle : and is
not a Buffe Ierkin a moſt ſweet robe of durance?

Fal. How how ? how now mad Wagge ? What in thy
qui ps and thy quiddities ? What a plague have I to doe
with a Buffe-Ierkin ?

Prin. Why, what a poxe have I to doe with my Ho-
ſeffe of the Taverne ?

Fal. Well, thou haſt call'd her to a reckning many a
time and oft.

Prin. Did I ever call for thee to pay thy part?

Fal. No, Ile give thee thy due, thou haſt paid all there.

Prin. Yea and elsewhere, so farre as my Coyne would
ſtretch, and where it would not, I have uſ'd my credit.

Fal. Yea, and ſo us'd it, that were it here apparent,
that thou art Heire apparant. But I prythee ſweet Wag,
ſhall there be Gallowes ſtanding in England when thou
art King ? and reſolution thus ſobb'd as it is, with the ru-
ſly curbe of old Father Anticke the Law ? Do not thou
when thou art a King, hang a Theeſe.

Prin. No, thou haſt.

Fal. Shall I? O rare ! Ile be a brave Iudge.

Prin. Thou judgeſt falſe already. I meane, thou haſt
have the hanging of the Theeves, and ſo become a rare
Hangman.

Fal. Well Hal, well : and in ſome ſort it jumpes with
my humour, as well as waiting in the Court, I can tell
you.

Prin. For obtaining of ſuites?

Fal. Yea, for obtaining of ſuites, whereof the Hang-
man hath no leane Wardrobe. I am as Melancholly as a
Gyb-Cat, or a lugg'd Beare,

Prin. Or an old Lyon, or a Lovers Lute.

Fal. Yea, or the Drone of a Lincolnshire Bagpipe.

Prin. What ſay'ſt thou to a Hare, or the Melancholly
of Moore-Ditch ?

Fal. Thou haſt the moſt unfavoury ſimiles, and art in-
deed the moſt comparative raſcalked ſweet yong Prince.
But Hal, I prythe trouble me no more with vanity, I
would thou and I knew, where a Commodity of good
names were to be bought : an old lord of the Councell ra-
ted me the other day in the ſtreet about you ſir; but I
mark'd him not, and yet he ſtalk'd very wifely, but I regar-
ded him not, and yet he ſtalkt wifely, and in the ſtreet too.

Prin. Thou didst well : for no man regards it.

Fal. O, thou haſt damnable iteration, and art indeed
able to corrupt a Saint. Thou haſt done much harme un-
to me Hal, God forgive thee for it. Before I knew thee
Hal, I knew nothing; and now I am (if a man should ſpeake
truly) little better than one of the wicked. I muſt give o-
ver this life, and I will give it over : and I do not, I am a
Villaine. Ile be damn'd for never a Kings ſonne in Chri-
ſtendome.

Prin. Where ſhall we take a purſe to morrow, Iacke?

Fal. Where thou wilt Lad, Ile make one : and I do not, call me Villaine, and baffle me.

Prin. I fee a good amendment of life in thee: From
Praying, to Purſe-taking.

Fal. Why, Hal, 'tis my Vocation Hal. 'Tis no ſin for a
man to labour in his Vocation.

Pointz. Now ſhall we know if Gad's hill have ſet a
Watch. O, if men were to be ſaved by merit, what hole
in Hell were hot enough for him? This is the moſt omni-
potent Villaine, that ever cryed, Stand, to a true man.

Prin. Good morrow Ned.

Pointz.

50

*Points.* Good morrow sweet *Hal.* What faies Monfieur Remorfe ? What fayes Sir John Sacke and Sugar. Jacke? How agrees the Divell and thee about thy Soule, that thou foldeſt him on Good friday laſt, for a Cup of Madera, and a cold Capons legge ?

*Prin.* Sir John ſtands to his word, the devill ſhall have his bargaine, for he was never yet a Breaker of Proverbs: He will give the devill his due.

*Poin.* Then art thou damn'd for keeping thy word with the devill.

*Pfim.* Elſe he had bin damn'd for cozening the divell.

*Poy.* But my Lads, my Lads, to morrow morning, by foure a clocke early at Gads hill, there are Pilgrimes going to Canterbury with rich Offerings, and Traders riling to London with fat Purſes. I have vizards for you ali : you have horſes for your ſelves : Gads-hill lyes to night in Rochefter, I have beſpoke Supper to morrow in Eaſtcheape; we may doe it as ſecure as fleepe: if you will go, I will fluffe you Purſes full of Crownes : if you will not, tarry at home and be hang'd.

*Fal.* Heare ye Yedward, if I tarry at home and go not, Ile hang you for going.

*Poy.* You will chops.

*Fal.* *Hal,* wilt thou make one ?

*Prin.* Who, I rob ? I a Theeſe ? Not I.

*Fal.* There's neither honeſty, manhood, nor good fel- lowſhip in thee, nor thou cam't not of the blood-royall, if thou dar't not ſtand for ten ſhillings.

*Prin.* Well then, once in my dayes Ile be a mad-cap.

*Fal.* Why that's well fayd.

*Prin.* Well, come what will, Ile tarry at home.

*Fal.* Ile be a Traitor then, when thou art King.

*Prin.* I care not.

*Poyn.* Sir John, I pray thee leave the Prince & me alone, I will lay him downe ſuch reaſons for this adventure, that he ſhall go.

*Fal.* Well, maſt thou have the ſpirit of perſwafion; and he the eares of profiting, that what thou ſpeakeſt, may move; and what he heares may be beleeved, that the true Prince, may (for recreation ſake) prove a ſalle theſe; for the poore abſes of the time, want countenance. Farewell, you ſhall finde me in Eaſtcheape.

*Prin.* Farewell the latter Spring. Farewell Alhollown Summer. Exit.

*Poy.* Now, my good sweet Hony Lord, ride with us to-morrow, I have a jell to execute, that I cannot mannage alone. *Falſtaffe, Harvey, Roffill,* and *Gads-bill*, shall robbe thofe men that we have already way-layde; your ſelfe & I, will not be there and when they have the booſy, if you and I doe not rob them, cut this head from my shoulders.

*Prid.* But how ſhall we part with them in fetting forth?

*Poyn.* Why, we will fet forth before or after them, and appoint them a place of meeting, wherein it is at our pleafure to ſaile; and then will they adventure upon the exployt them ſelves, which they have no ſooner atchieved, but wee ſet upon them.

*Prin.* I but tis like that they will know us by our horſes, by our habits, and by every other appointment to be our ſelves.

*Poy.* Tut, our horſes they ſhall not fee, Ile tie them in the Wood; our vizards wee will change after wee leave then: and firrah, I have Cafes of Buckram for the nonce, to immaske our noted outward garments.

*Prin.* But I doubt they will be too hard for us.

*Poyn.* Well, for two of them, I know them to bee as

true bred Cowards as ever turn'd backe: and for the third if he fight longer than he fees reafon, Ile forſure Armes. The vertue of this Ieſt will be, the incomprehensible lyes that this fat Rogue will tell us, when we meet at Supper: how thirty at leaſt he fought with, what Wardes, what blowes, what extremities he endured, and in the reproofe of this, lyes the jefl.

*Prin.* Well, Ile goe with thee, provide us all things neceſſary, and meete mee to morrow night in hall cheape, there Ile fup. Farewell.

*Poyn.* Farewell, my Lord.

Exit Points.

*Prin.* I know you all, and will a while uphold the unyoak'd humor of your idlenſe:

Yet herein will I imitate the Sunne,
Who doth permit the bafe contagious cloudes

Tofmother up his Beauty from the world;
That when he pleafe againe to be himſelfe,
Being wanted, he may be more wondred at,
By breaking through the foule and ugly mitts
Of vapours, that did feeme to ſtrangle him.

If all the yeare were playing holidayes,
To iport, would be as tedious as to worke;

But when they ſelome come, they wilſit-for come,
And nothing pleafeth but rare accidents.

So when this loofe behaviour I throw off,
And pay the debt I never promiſed;

By how much better than my word I am,

By ſo much ſhall I falſiſe mens hopes,

And like bright Mettall on a ſullen ground:

My reformation glittering o're my fault,
Shall ſhew more goodly, and attract more eyes;
Than that which hath no foyle to fet it off.

Ile ſo offend, to make offence a skill,

Redeeming time, when men thinke leaſt I will.

## Seena Tertia.

Enter the King, Northumberland, Worcester, Hotspur, Sir Walter Blunt, and others.

*King.* My blood hath beene too cold and temperate, Vnpre to ſtirre at theſe indignities,

And you have found me; for accordingly,
You tread upon my patience: But be ſure,
I will from henceforth rather be my ſelfe,
Mighty, and to be ſear'd, than my condition,
Which hath beene ſmooth as Oyle, ſoft as yong Downe,
And therefore loſt the Title of reſpect,
Which the proud ne're payes, but to the proud.

*Wor.* Our houſe (my Soveraigne Liege) little deferves The fourge of greatneſſe to be uſed on it, And that fame greatneſſe too, which our owne hands Have holpe to make ſo portly.

*Nor.* My Lord.

*King.* Worcester get thee gone: for I do fee

Danger and diſobedience in thine eye.

O fir, your prefence is too bold and peremptory,

And Majeftie might never yet endure

The moody Frontier of a ſervant brow,

You have good leave to leave us. When we need

Your uſe and counſell, we shall ſend for you.

You were about to ſpeake.

*North.* Yea, my good Lord.

Thoſe

The First Part of King Henry the Fourth.

51

Thofe Prifoners in your Highneſſe demanded,
Which Harry Percy here at Holmeſon tooke,
Were (as he ſayes) not with ſuch ſtrength denied
As was delivered to your Majeſtyle:
Who cyther through envy, or miſprifion,
Was guilty of this ſault; and not my Sonne.
Hot. My Liege, I did deny no prifoners.
But, I remember when the fight was done,
When I was dry with Rage, and extreme Toyle,
Breathleſſe, and faint, leaning upon my Sword,
Came there a certaine Lord, neat and trimly dreft:
Fresh as a Bride-groome, and his Chin new reapr,
Shev'd like a flubble Land at harvest home.

He was perfumed like a Milliner,
And 'twixt his Finger and his Thumbe, he held
A Poincet-box: which ever and anon

He gave his Nofe, and took't away againe:
Who therewith angry, when it next came there,
Tooke it in Snuffe. And still he ſmil'd and talk'd:
And as the Souldiurs bare dead bodies by,
He call'd them untoUGHT Knaves, Vnn mannerly,
To bring a flovenly unhandſome Coarſe
Betwixt the winde, and his Nobility.

With many holiday and Lady tearmes
He queſtion'd me: Among the reſt, demanded
My Prifoners, in your Majeſties behalfe.

I then, all ſmarting, with my wounds being cold,
(To be ſo peltſered with a Popingay!)

Out of my Grceſe, and my impatience,
Anſwer'd (neglectingly) I know not what,
He ſhould; or ſhould not: For he made me mad,
To ſet him ſhine ſo briske, and ſmell ſo ſweet,
And take ſo like a Waiting-Gentlewoman,
Of Guns, and Drums, and Wounds: God ſave the marke;
And telling me, the Soveraign't thing on earth

Was Parmacity, for an inward bruife:
And that it was great pitty, ſo it was,

That vilanous Salt-peter ſhould be digg'd
Out of the bowels of the harmeleſſe Earth,
Which many a good Tall Fellow had deſtroy'd
So cowardly. And but for thise vile Gunnes,
He would himſelfe have beene a Souldier.

This bald, unjoynted Chat of his (my Lord)
Made me to anſwere indirectly (as I ſayd.)

And I beſeeth you, let not this report
Come currant for an Accufation,

Betwixt my love and your high Majeſty.

Blunt. The circumſtance confidered, good my Lord,

What ever Harry Percie then had ſaid,
To ſuch a perſon, and in ſuch a place,
At ſuch a time, with all the reſt retold,

May reaſonable dye, and never rife

To do him wrong, or any way impeach
What then he ſaid, ſo he unfay it now.

King. Why yet he doth deny his Prifoners,

But with proviſo and Exception,
That we at our owne charge, ſhall ranſome ſtraight
His Brother-in-Law, the ſooliſh Mortimer,
Who (in my ſoule) hath wilfully betrayd
The lives of thofe, that he did leade to Fight,
Aſainſt the great Magitian, damn'd Glendower:
Whofe daughter (as we heare) the Earle of March

Hath lately married, Shall our Coffers then,
Be emptied, to redeeme a Traitor home?

Shall we buy Treafon ? and indent with Feares,
When they have loft and forſeyted themſelves?

No: on the barren Montaine let him ſtarve:

For I ſhall never hold that man my Friend,
Whofe tongue ſhall aske me for one peny coſt

To ranſome home revolted Mortimer,

Hot. Revolted Mortimer ?

He never did fall off, my Soveraigne Liege,
But by the chance of Warre: to prove that true,
Needs no more but one tongue. For all theſe Wounds,
Thofe mouthed Wounds, which valiantly he tooke,
When on the gentle Severnes ſiedgie banke,

In ſingle Oppoſition hand to hand,
He did confound the beſt part of an houre

In changing hardiment with great Glendower:

Three times they breath'd, and three times did they drinke
Upon agreement, of ſwift Severnes flood;

Who then affrighted with their bloody looks,
Ran fearefully among the trembling Reedes,

And hid his crſped-head in a hollow banke,
Blood ſtained with theſe Valiant Combatants.

Never did bafe and rotten policy

Colour her working with ſuch deadly wounds,

Nor never could the noble Mortimer

Receive ſo many, and all willingly:

Then let him not be ſland'red with Revolt.

King. Tho u do't bely him Percy, thou doſt bely him;
He never did encounter with Glendower:

I tell thee, he durſt as well have met the divell alone,
As Owen Glendower for an enemy.

Art thou not aſham'd? But Sirrah, henceforth

Let me not heare you ſpeake of Mortimer.

Send me your Prifoners with the ſpeddieſt means,
Or you ſhall heare in ſuch a kinde from me

As will diſpleafeye. My Lord Northumberland,

We Liceſen your departure with your ſonne,

Send us your Prifoners, or you'l heare of it. Exit King.

Hot. And if the divell come and roare for them,

I will not ſend them. I will after ſtraight
And tell him ſo: for I will eafe my heart,

Although it be with hazard of my head,

Nor. What? drunke with choller? Itay & paufe awhile,

Heere comes your Vnckle. Enter Worcester.

Hot. Speake of Mortimer?

Yes, I will ſpeake of him, and let my ſoule

Want mercy, if I do not joyne with him.

In his behalſe, Ile empty all theſe Veines,

And ſhed my deere blood drop by drop i'th daſt,

But I will lift the downfall Mortimer

As high i'th Ayre as this unthankſe full King,

As this Ingrate and Cankred Bullingbrooke.

Nor. Brother, the King hath made your Nephew mad.

War. Who ſtrooke this heate up after I was gone ?

Hot. He will (for ſooth) have all my prifoners:

And when I urg'd the ranſome once againe

Of my wives Brother, then his cheeke look'd pale,

And on my face he turn'd an eye of death,

Trembling even at the name of Mortimer.

War. I cannot blame him: was he not proclaim'd

By Richard that dead is, the next of blood?

Nor. He was: I heard the Proclamation,

And then it was, when the unhappy King
(Whofe wrongs in us God pardon) did ſet forth
Vpoa his Irifh Expedition:

From whence he intercepted, did returne

To be depoſ'd, and ſhortly murthered.

War. And for whofe death, we in the worlds wide mouth
Live ſo ſcandaliz'd, and fouly ſpoken of.

Hot.

e

52

Hot. Butoft I pray you; did King Richard then
Proclaime my brother Mortimer,
Heyre to the Crowne?
Nor. He did, my selfe did heare it.
Hot. Nay then I cannot blame his Coufin King.
That wifh'd him on the barraine Mountaines starv'd.
But shall it be, that you that fet the Crowne
Vpon the head of this forgetfull man,
And for his fake, wore the detefted blot
Of murtherous subornations ? shall it be,
That you a world of curfes undergoe,
Being the Agents, or bafe fefond meanes,
The Cords, the Ladder, or the Hangman rather ?
O pardon, if that I defend to low,
To flew the Line, and the Predicament
Wherein you range under this subtrill King.
Shall it for fame, be spoken in thefe dayes,
Or fill up Chronicles in time to come,
That men of your Nobility and Power,
Did gage them both in an unjust behalfe
(As both of you, God pardon it, have done)
To put downe Richard, that fweeet lovely Rose,
And plant this Thorne, this Canker Bullingbrooke?
And shall it in more fame be further spoken,
That you are fool'd, discarded, and fhooke off
By him, for whom thefe names ye underwent ?
No: yet time serves, wherein you may redeeme
Your banifh'd Honors, anefore your felves
Into the good Thoughts of the world againe.
Revenge the geering and difdain'd contempt
Of this proud King, who fudies day and night
To anſwer all the Debt he owes unto you,
Even with the bloody Payments of your deaths :
Therefore I lay—

Wor. Peace Coufin, fay no more.
And now I will unclaspe a Secret booke,
And to your quicke conceyving Difcontents,
Ile reade you Matter, deepe and dangerous,
As full of perill and adventurous Spirit,
As to o're-walke a Current, roaring loud
On the unſtedfaſt footing of a Speare.
Hot. If he fall in, good night, or finke or ſwimme :
Send danger from the Eaſt unto the Weſt,
So Honor croſſe in from the North to South,
And let them grapple : The blood more flirres
To rowze a Lyon, then to ſtart a Hare.
Nor. Imagination of ſome great exploit,
Drives him beyond the boundſof Patience.

Hot. By heaven, me thinkes it were an eaſe leap,
To plucke bright Honor from the pale-fac'd Moone,
Or dive into the bottome of the deepe,
Where Fadome-line could never touch the ground,
And plucke up drowned Honor by the Lockes :
So he that doth redeeme her thence, might weare
Without Co-rivall, all her Dignities :
But out upon this halfe-fac'd Fellowſhip.
Wor. He apprehend sa world of Figures here,
But not the forme of what he ſhould attend :
Good Coufin give me audience for a-while,
And lift to me.

Hot. I cry you mercy.
Wor. Thofe fame Noble Scottes
That are your Prifoners.
Hot. Ile keepe them all.
By heaven, he ſhall not have a Scot of them :
No, if a Scot would fave his Soule, he ſhall not.

Ile keepe them, by this Hand.
Wor. You ſtart away,
And lend no eare unto my purpofes
Thofe Prifoners you ſhall keepe.
Hot. Nay, I will; that's flat :
He faid he would not ranſome Mortimer :
Forbad my tongue to ſpeake of Mortimer.
But I will finde him when he lies aftيض,
And in his care, Ile holla Mortimer.
Nay, Ile have a Starling ſhall be taught to ſpeake
Nothing but Mortimer, and give it him,
To keepe his anger ſtill in motion.
Wor. Heare you Coufin : a word.
Hot. All ſudies here I solemnly defie,
Save how to gall and pinch this Bullingbrooke,
And that fame Sword and Buckler prince of Wales.
But that I thinke his Father loves him not,
And would be glad he met with ſome miſchance,
I would have poyſon'd him with a pot of Ale.
Wor. Farewell Kinſman : Ile talk to you
When you are better temper'd to attend.

Nor. Why what a Waleſt-tongu'd and inpatient foole
Art thou, to breake into this Women's mood,
Tying thine eare to no tongue but thine owne?

Hot. Why looke you, I am whipt & ſcour'd withrods,
Netled; and flung with Přimiers, when I heare
Of this vile Politician Bullingbrooke.

In Richards time: What de'ye call the place ?
A plague upon't, it is in Glouſterſhire :
'Twas where the madcap Duke his Vncle kept,
His Vncle Yorke, where I firſt bow'd my knee
Vnto this King of Smiles, this Bullingbrooke :
When you and he came backe from Kanenpugh.

Nor. At Barkley Caſſle.

Hot. You ſay true :
Why what a caudie deale of curſeſe,
This faunning Gray-hound then did proſter me.
Looke when his infant fortune came to age,
And gentle Harry Percy, and kinde Coufin :
O, the Divell take fuch Couzins, God forgive me,
Good Vncle: tell your tale, for I have done.
Wor. Nay, if you have not, too't againe,
Wee'l ſtay your leyſure.
Hot. I have done inſooth.
Wor. Then once more to your Scottish Prifoners.
Deliver them up without their ranſome ſtraight,
And make the Dowglas ſonne your only meane
For powers in Scotland : which for divers reafons
Which I ſhall find you written, be aſur'd
Your Eaſt be easily gi'anted you, my Lord.

Your Sonne in Scotland being thus imploy'd,
Shall ſecreſtely in the boſome creepe
Of that fame noble Prelate, well belov'd,
The Archbifhop.

Hot. Of yorke, is't not ?

Wor. True, who beares hard
His Brothers death at Briſſow, the Lord Scroope.
I ſpeake not this in eſtimation,
As what I thinke might be, but what I know
Is ruminaſed, plotted and fet downe,
And only ſtayes but to behold the face
Of that occafion that ſhall bring it on.
Hot. Ifmell it :

Vpon my life, it will do wond'rous well.

Nor. Before the gam's a-foot, thou ſtill let't ſlip.
Hot. Why, it cannot chooſe but be a Noble plot,

And

And then the power of Scotland, and of Yorke
To joyne with Mortimer, Ha.

Wor. And so they shall.

Hot. Infaith it is exceedingly well aym'd.

Wor. And 'tis no little reafon bids us speed,
To fave our heads, by raifing of a Head :

For, bare our felves as even as we can,

The King will always thinke him in our debt,
And thinke, we thinke our felves unfatfied,
Till he hath found a time to pay us home.

And fee already, how he doth beginne

To make us ftrangers to his lookes of love.

Hot. He does, he does; wee'l be reveng'd on him.

Wor. Coufin, farewell. No further go in this,
Then I by Letters shall direct your courfe

When time is ripe, which will be fadelyne:

Ile feale to Glendower, and loe, Mortimer,

Where you, and Dowglas, and our powers at once,

As I will fashion it, that'll happily meete,

To beare our fortunes in our owne ftrong arms,

Which now we hold at much uncertainty.

Nor. Farewell good Brother, we shall thrive, I truft.

Hot. Vncle, adieu : O let hours be short,

Till fields, and blowes, and grones, applaud our ſport. Exit.

## Atus Secundus. Scena Prima,

Enter a Carrier with a Lanterne in his hand.

1. Car. Heigh-ho, an't be not foure by the day, I bee hang'd. Charles waine is over the new Chimney, and yet our horfe not packet. What Oſtler ?

Oſt. Anon, anon.

1. Car. I prethee Tom, beate Cuts Saddle, put a few Flockes in the point: the poore Iade is wrung in the wunders, out of all cſie.

Enter another Carrier.

2. Car. Peafe and Beanes are as danke here as a Dog, and this is the next way to give poore Iades the Bottes: This houſe is turned upſide downe ſince Robin the Oſtler dyed.

1. Car. Poor ſe fellow never joy'd ſince the price of oats roſe, it was the death of him.

2. Car. I thinke this is the moſt villanous houſe in all London rode for Fleas : I am itung like a Tench.

1. Car. Like a Tench ? There is ne're a King in Christendome, could be better bit, then I have beene ſince the firſt Cocke.

2. Car. Why, you will allow us ne're a Iourden, and then we leake in your Chimney: and your Chamber-lye breeds Fleas like a Loach.

1. Car. What Oſtler, come away, and be hang'd; come away.

2. Car. I have a Gammon of Bacon, and two razes of Ginger, tobe delivered as farre as Charing-croſſe.

1. Car. The Turkies in my Panniers are quite ſtarved. What Oſtler? A plague on thee, haſt thou never an eye in thy head? Can't not heare? And t'were not as good a deed as drinke, to breake the pate of thee, I am a very Villeraine. Come and be hang'd, haſt no faith in thee?

Enter Gads-hill.

Gad. Good-morrow Carriers. What's a clocke?

Car. I thinke it be two a clocke.

Gad. I prethee lend me thy Lanthorne to fee my Gel-

ding in the ſtable.

1. Car. Nay toſt I pray ye, I know a tricke worth two of that.

Gad. I prethee lend me thine.

2. Car. I, when, canſt tell ? Lend mee thy Lanthorne (quoth-a) marry Ile fee thee hang'd firſt.

Gad. Sirra Carrierr: What time doe you meane to come to London?

2. Car. Time enough to goe to bed with a Candle, I warrant thee. Come neighbour Mugges, wee'll call up the Gentlemen, they will along with company, for they have great charge.

Excunt.

Enter Chamberlaine.

Gad. What ho, Chamberlaine ?

Cham. At hand quoth Pick-purse.

Gad. That's even as faire, as at hand quoth the Chamberlaine: For thou varieſt no more from picking of Purſes, then giving direction, doth from labouring. Thou lay't the plot, how.

Cham. Good morrow Maſter Gads-Hill, it holds curant that I told you yeſternight. There's a Franklin in the wilde of Kent, that hath brought three hundred Markes with him in Gold: I heard him tell it to one of his company laſt night at Supper; a kinde of Auditor, one that hath abundance of charge too (God knowes what) they are up already, and call for Egges and Butter. They will away prefently.

Gad. Sirra, if they meete not with S. Nicholas Clarks, I le give thee this necke.

Cham. No, Ile none of it: I prythee keepe that for the Hangman, for I know thou worſhipſt S. Nicolas aſtruly as a man of falſhood may.

Gad. What talkeſt thou to me of the Hangman ? If I bang, Ile make a fat payre of Gallowes. For, if I hang, old Sir John hangs with mee, and thou know'ſt hee's no Starueling. Tur, there are other Troians that y' dream't not of, the which (for ſport fake) are content to doe the Prouſſion ſome grace; that would (if matters ſhould be look'd into) for their owne Credit fake, make all Whole. I am joyned with no Foot-land-Rakers, no Long-ſaffe fix-penny ſtrikers, none or theſe mad Muſtachio-purple-hu'd-Maltwormes, but with Nobility, and Tranquilitie; Bourgmasters, and great Oneyers, ſuch as can holde in, ſuch as will ſtrike ſooner then Iſpeake; and Iſpeake ſooner then drinke, and drinke ſooner then pray: and yet I lye, for they pray continually unto their Saint the Commonwealth; or rather not to pray to her, but prey on her : for they ride up and downeon her, and make her their Boots.

Cham. What, the Commonwealth their Bottes? Will ſhe hold out water in foule way?

Gad. She will, ſhe will; Inſtice hath liquor'd her. We ſeale as in a Caſtle, cockſure: we have the recent of Fernſeede, we walke invifible.

Cham. Nay, I thinke rather, you are more beholding to the Night, then the Fernſeed, for your walking invifible.

Gad. Give me thy hand.

Thou halt have a ſhare in our purpofe,
As I am a true man.

Cham. Nay, rather let me have it, as you are a falſe Theſe.

Gad. Goetoo: Home is a common name to all men.

Bid the Oſtler bring the Gelding out of the ſtable. Farewell, ye muddy Knave.

Excunt.

Scena

## Scæna Secunda.

Enter Prince, Poynes, and Peto.

Poynes. Come shelter, shelter, I have removed Falfafes Horfe, and he frets like a gum'd Velvet.

Prin. Stand clofe.

Enter Falfaffe.

Fal. Poynes, Poynes, and be hang'd Poynes.

Prin. Peace ye fat-kidney'd Rafcall, what a brawling doft thou keepe?

Fal. What Poynes. Hal?

Prin. He is walk'd up to the top of the hill, I'll go feeke him.

Fal. I am accurate to rob in that Theefes company: that Rafcall hath removed my Horfe, and tied him I know not where. If I travaile but foure foot by the quire further a foote, I shall breake my winde. Well, I doubt not but to die a faire death for all this, if I apepe hanging for killing that Rogue. I have forsworne his company hourly any time this two and twenty yeare, and yet I am bewitcht with the Rogues company. If the Rafcall have not given me medicines to make me love him, Ile be hang'd, it could not be else: I have drunke Medicines. Poynes, Hall, a Plague upon you both. Bardolph, Peto: Ile fharve ere I rob a foot further. And 'twere not as good a deede as to drinke, to turne Trueman, and to leave thofe Rogues, I am the verieft Varlot that ever chewed with a Tooth. Eight yards of uneven ground, is threecore and ten miles afoot with me: and the ftony-hearted Villaines know it well enough. A plague upon't, when Theeves cannot bee true one to another.

Thy Whistle.

Whew : a plague light upon you all. Give my Horfe you Rogues : give me my Horfe and be hang'd.

Prin. Peace ye fat guttes, lye downe, lay thine eare clofe to the ground, and lift if thou can be the tread of Travellers.

Fal. Have you any Leavers to lift me up againe being downe ? He not beare mine owne fleh so far afoot again, for all the coine in thy Fathers Exchequer. What a plague meane ye to colt me thus?

Prin. Thou ly'ft, thou art not colted, thou art uncolted.

Fal. I prethee good Prince Hal, helpe me to my horfe, good Kings fonne.

Prin. Out you Rogue, shall I be your Oftler ?

Fal. Go hang thy selfe in thine owne heire-apparant-Garters: If I be tane, Ile peach for this: and I have not Ballads made on all, and fung to filthy tunes, leta Cup of Sacke be my poyfon: when a jeft is so forward, and a foote too, I hate it.

### Enter Gads-hill.

Gad. Stand.

Fal. So I do againft my will.

Poin. O'tis our Setter, I know his voyce: Bardolfe, what newes ?

Bar. Cate ye, cafe ye; on with your Vizards, there's many of the Kings comming downe the hill, 'tis going to the Kings Exchequer.

Fal. You lie your rogue, 'tis going to the Kings Taverne. Gad. There's enough to make us all.

Fal. To be hang'd.

Prin. You foure shall front them in the narrow Lane: Ned and I will walke lower; if they apepe from your encounter, then they light on us.

Peto. But how many be of them?

Gad. Some eight or ten.

Fal. Will they not rob us ?

Prin. What, a Coward Sir John Paunch?

Fal. Indeed I am not John of Gaunt your Grandfather: but yet no Coward, Hal.

Prin. Wee'l leave that to the proofe.

Poin. Sirra lacke thy horfe stands behinde the hedge, when thou need'ft him, there shall thou finde him, Farwell, and stand faft.

Fal. Now cannot I strike him, if I should be hang'd.

Prin. Ned, where are our difguifes ?

Poin. Hecre hard by : Stand clofe.

Fal. Now my Mafters, happy man be his dole, fly me every man to his businesse.

### Enter Travellers.

Tra. Come Neighbor: the boy shall leade our Horſes downe the hill: Wee'l walke a-foot a while, and eate our Legges.

Theeves. Stay.

Tra. Icfu bleſſe us.

Fal. Strike: downe with them, cut the villaines throats; a whorfon Caterpillars: Bacon-fed Kuaves, they harses youth; downe with them, ſleece them.

Tra. O, we are undone, both we and ours for ever.

Fal. Hang ye gorbellied knaves, are you undone ? No ye Fat Chuffes, I would your flore were here. On Bacons on, what ye knaes? Yong men muſt live, you are Grand Iurers? Wee'l jure ye ifaith.

Heare they rob them, and hinde them. Enter the Prince and Poynes.

Prin. The Theeves have bound the True-men: Now could thou and I rob the Theeves and go merrily to London, it would be argument for a Weeke, Laughter for a Moneth, and a good ielt for ever.

Poynes. Stand cloſe, I heare them comming,

### Enter Theeves againe.

Fal. Come my Maſters, let us share, and then to horſe before day : and the Prince and Poynes bee not two arand Cowards, there's no equity ftrirring. There's, no moe valour in that Poynes, than in a wilde Ducke.

Prin. Your money.

Poin. Villaines.

As they are sharing, the Prince and Poynes ſet upon them. They all run away, leaving the boory behind them.

Prince. Got with much cafe. Now merrily to Horſe: The Theeves are ſcatred, and poffeſt with fear ſo ftrongly, that they dare not meet each other: each takes his ſellow for an Officer. Away good Ned, Falfaffe weate to death, and Lards the leane earth as he walkes along: we're not for laughing, I should pitty him.

Poyne. How the Rogue roar'd.

Fzunm.

## Scæna Tertia.

Enter Hotſurre solus, reading a Letter.

But for mine own part, my Lord, I could bee well contented to be there, in respect of the love I beare your konſe.

He

He could be contented: Why is he not then? in respect of the love he beares our house. He shewes in this, he loves his owne Barne better then hee loves our house. Let mee fee some more, The purpose you undertake is dangerous. Why that's certaine: 'Tis dangerous to take a coide, to fleepe, to drinke: but I tell you (my Lord foole) out of this Nettle, Danger; we plucke this Flower, Safety. The purpose you undertake is dangerous, the Friends you have named uncertaine, the Time is selfe unforted, and your whole plot too light, for the counterpoize of so great an Opposition. Say you so, fay you so: I fay unto you againe, you are a shallow cowardly Hinde, and you Lye. What a lacke-braine is this? I proteft, our plot is as good a plot as ever was laid; our Friend true and conftant: A good Plotte, good Friends, and full of expectation: An excellent plot, very good Friends. What a Frofty-fpirited rogue is this? Why, my Lord of Yorke commends the plot, and the generall courfe of the action. By this hand, if I were now by this Rafcall, I could braine him with his Ladyes Fan. Is there not my Father, my Vncle, and my Selfe, Lord Edmond Mortimer, my Lord of Torke, and Owen Glendour? Is there not besides, the Dowglau? Have I not all their letters, to meete me in Armes by the ninth of the next Month; and are there not some of them fet forward already? What a Pagan Rafcall is this? An Infidell. Ha, you shall fee now in very fincerity of Feare and Cold heart, will he to the King, and lay open all our proceedings. O, I could divide my felfe, and go to buffets, for moving fuch a dith of skim'd Milke with ſo honorable au Action. Hang him, let him tell the King we are prepared. I will fet forwards tonight.

## Enter his Lady.

How now Kate, I muſt leave you within theſe two hours.

La. O my good Lord, why are you thus alone?
For what offence have I this fortnight beene
A banifh'd woman from my Harries bed?
Tell me (fweet Lord) what is't that takes from thee
Thy flomacke,pleasure, and thy golde n fleepe?
Why doft thou bend thine eyes upon the earth?
And ſtart ſo often when thou ſirt it alone?
Why haft thou loft the freſh blood in thy cheekes?
And given my Treasures and my rights of thee,
To thick-ey'd mufing, and curſt melancholly?
In my faint lumbers, I by thee have watcht,
And heard thee murmur e tales of Iron Warres:
Speake termes of mannage to thy bounding Steed,
Cry courage to the field. And thou haſt talk'd
Of Salities, and Retirees; Trenches, Tents,
Of Palizadoes, Frontiers, Parapets.
Of Bafliſkes, of Canon, Culverin.
Of Prifoners ranlome, and of Souldiers flaine,
And all the current of a heady fight.
Thy ſirt within thee hath beene ſo at Warre,
And thus hath ſo beſtir'd thee in thy fleepe,
That beds of ſwate hath flood upon thy Brow,
Like bubbles in a late-difturbed Streame;
And in thy face ſtrange motions have appear'd,
Such as we fee when men reſtraine their breath
On ſome great ſodaine haſt. O what portents are theſe?
Some heavi e buſineſſe hath my Lord in hand,
And I muſt know it: eſſe he loves me not.

Hor. What ho; Is Gulliams with the Packet gone?

Ser. He is my Lord, an houre agone.

Hor. Hath Butler bought thofe horſes from the Sheriffe?

Ser. One horſe, my Lord, he brought euen now.
Hor. What Horſe? A Roane, a crop eare, is it not?

Ser. It is my Lord.

Hor. That Roane ſhall bee my THRONE. Well, I will
backe him ſtraight. Esperance, bid Butler, leade him forth
into the Parke.

La. But heare you, my Lord.

Hor. What fay'ſt thou my Lady?

La. What is it carries you away?

Hor. Why, my horſe (my Love) my horſe.

La. Out you mad-headed Ape, a Weazell hath not
fuch a deale of Spleene, as you are toſt with. In ſooth He
know your buſineſſe Harry, that I will. I feare my Bro-
ther Mortimer doth ſtirre about his Title, and hath ſent
for you to line his interprize. But if you go—

Hor. So farre a foot, I ſhall be wearie, Love.

La. Come,come, you P arauito, anſwere me direſtly
Vnto this queſtion, that I ſhall aske. Indeede I breake
thy little finger Harry, if thou wilt not tell me true.

Hor. Away, away, you trifler: Love, I love thee not,
I care not for thee Kate: this is no world
To play with Mammets, and to tilt with lips.
We muſt have bloody Nofes, and crack'd Crownes,
And paffe them currant too. Gods me, my horſe.
What fay'ſt thou Kate? would'ſt thou have with me?

La. Do ye not love me? Do you not indeed?

Well, do not then. For ſince you love me not,
I will not love my ſelfe. Do you not love me ?
Nay, tell me if thou ſpeakeſt in jeſt, or no.

Hor. Come, wilt thou fee me ride?
And when I am a horſebacke, I will ſware
I love thee infinibly. But harke you Kate,
I muſt not have you henceforth, queſtion me,
Whither I go : nor reaſon whercabout.
Whither I muſt; I muſt: and to conclude,
This Evening muſt I leave thee, gentle Kate.
I know you wife, but yet no further wife
Then Harry Percies wife. Conſtant you are,
But yet a woman: and for ſecrecie,
No Lady cloſer. For I will beleeve
Thou wilt not utter what thou do'ſt not know,
And ſo farre will I traſt thee, gentle Kate.

La. How fo farre?

Hor. Nor an inch further. But harke you Kate,
Whither I go, thither ſhall you go too:
To day will I fet forth, to morrow you.

Will this content you Kate?

La. It muſt of force.

Exeunt.

## Scena Quarta.

### Enter Prince and Poynes.

Prin. Ned, prethee come out of that fat roome, & lend me thy hand to laugha little.

Poynes. Where haſt beene Hall?

Prin. With three or ſoure Logger-heads, amongſt 3.
or ſourefcore Hogsheads. I have founded the verie bafe
ſtring of humilitie. Sirra, I am ſworn brother to a leſh of
Drawers, and can call them by their names, as Tom, Dicks,
and Franciſe. They take it alreadie upon their confidence,
that though I be but Prince of Wales, yet I am the King
of Curteſe: telling me flatly I am not proud Iacke like Fa-
ſaffe, but a Corinthan, a lad of mettle, a good boy, and
when I am King of England, I ſhall command all the good
Laddes in Eaſt-cheape. They call drinking deepe, dy-
ing Scarlet; and when you breake in your watring, then
they

56

they cry pem, and bid you play it off. To conclude, I am
so good a proficient in one quarter of an houre, that I can
drinke with any Tinker in his owne Language during my
life. I tell thee Ned,thou haft loft much honor,that thou
wer't not with me in this action: but sweet Ned, to wee-
ten which name of Ned,I give thee this peniworth of Su-
gar, clapt even now into my hand by an under Skinker,
one that never spake other English in his life, then Eight
shillings and fix pence, and,You are welcome: with this firr
addition, Anon, Anon fir, Score a Pint of Baſtard in the
Halfe Noone, or so.But Ned, to drive away time till Fal-
ſaffe come, I prythe doe thou ſtand in fome by-roome,
white I queſtion my puny Drawer, to what end he gave
me the Sugar, and do never leave calling Francis, that his
Tale to me may be nothing but, Anon: ſtep aſide, and Ile
ſhew thee a Předſent.

Poines. Francis.

Prin, Thou art perfect.

Poin. Francis.

Enter Drawer.

Fran. Anon, anon fir; looke downe into the Pomgar-
net, Ralfe.

Prince. Come hither Francis.

Fran. My Lord.

Prin. How long haſt thou to ſerve, Francis ?

Fran. For ſooth five years and as much as to—

Poin. Francis.

Fran. Anon,anon fir.

Prin. Five yeares : Berlady a long Leaſe for the clin-
king of Pewter. But Francis, dareſt thou be ſo valiant,as
to play the coward with thy Indenture, and ſhew it a faire
paire of heele, and run from it?

Pran. O Lord fir, Ile be ſworne upon all the Books in
England, I could finde in my heart.

Poin. Francis.

Fran. Anon,anon fir.

Prin. How old art thou, Francis?

Fran. Let me ſee, about Michaelmas next I ſhall be—

Poin. Francis.

Fran. Anon fir, pray you ſtay a little, my Lord.

Prin. Nay but harke you Francis, for the Sugar thou gaveſt me, 'twas a peny worth, was't not?

Fran. O Lord fir, I would it had bene two.

Prin. I will giue thee for it a thouſand pound : Aske me when thou wilt, and thou ſhalt have it.

Poin. Francis.

Fran. Anon,anon.

Prin. Anon Francis? No Francis, but to morrow Fran-
cis: or Francis, on thurſday: or indeed Francis when thou
wilt. But Francis.

Fran. My Lord.

Prin. Wilt thou rob this Leatherne Erkin, Chriſtall
button,Not-pated, Agat ring, Puſe ſtocking, Caddice
garter, Smooth tongue, Spaniſh pouch.

Fran, O Lord fir, who do you meane ?

Prin. Why then your browne Baſtard is your only
drinke: for looke you Francis, your white Canus doubt
let will ſully. In Barbary fir, it cannot come to ſo much.

Fran. What fir?

Poin. Francis.

Prin. Away you Rogue, doſt thou heare them call ?

Heere they both call him, the Drawer Stands amazed,
not knowing which way to go.

Enter Vintner.

Vint. What, ſtand ſt thou ſtill, and heat'ſt ſuch a cal-

ling? Looke to the Gueſts within : My Lord, olde Sir
John with haſe a dozen more, are at the door: ſhall I let
them in?

Prin. Let them alone awhile, and then open the door.
Poines.

Enter Poines.

Paines, Anon,anon fir.

Prin. Sirra, Falſaſſe and the reſt of the Theeves, are at
the door, ſhall we be merry?

Poin. As merrie as Crickets my Lad. But harke yee,
What cunning match have you made with this jefl of the
Drawer? Come, what's the iſſe?

Prin. I am now of all humors, that have ſhewed them-
felves, humors, ſince the old dayes of goodman Adam, to
the pupill age of this prefent twelve a clock at midnight.
What's a clocke Francis?

Fran. Anon,anon fir.

Prin. That ever this Fellow ſhould have fewer words
then a Parret, and yet the ſonne of a Woman. His indu-
ſtry is up-ſtaires and down-ſtaires, his eloquence the par-
cell of a reckoning. I am not yet of Percies mind, the Ho-
furre of the North, he that killes me fome ſixe or feaven
dozen of Scots at a Breakſaft, waſhes his hands and fayes
to his wife; Fie upon this quiet life, I want worke. Omy
ſweet Harry ſayes he, how many haſt thou kill'd to day?
Give my Roane horſe a drench (fayes hee) and anſwers,
fome fourteene, an houre after : a trifle, a trifle. I prethe
call in Falſaſſe, Ile play Percies, and that damn'd Brawne
ſhall play Dame Mortimer his wife. Rivo, ſayes the drum-
kard. Call in Ribs, call in Tallow.

Enter Falſaſſe.

Poin. Weome Iacke, where haſt thou beene?

Fal. A plague of all Cowards I ſay, and a Vengeance
too, marry and Amen. Give me a cup of Sacke Boy. Ere
I leade this life long, Ile fowe nether ſtockes, and mend
them too. A plague of all cowards. Give me a Cup of
Sacke, Rogue. Is there no Vertue extant?

Prin. Didſt thou never ſee Titan kiffes a diſh of Butter,
pittifull hearted Titan that melted at the fweete Tale of
the Sunne? If thou didſt, then behold that compound.

Fal. You Rogue, here'e a Lime in this Sacke too: there
is nothing but Roguery to be found in a Villanous man; yet
a Coward is worſe then a Cup of Sack with lime. A vil-
lanous Coward, go thy wayes old Iacke, die when thou
wilt, if manhood, good manhood be not forgot upon the
face of the earth, then am I a ſhotten Herring : there lives
not three good men unhang'd in England, and one of them
is fat, and growes old, God helpe the while, a bad world I
fay. I would I were a Weaver, I could ſing all manner of
fongs. A plague of all Cowards, I ſay ſtill.

Prin. How now Woolſacke, what mutter you ?

Fal. A Kings Sonne ? If I do not beate thee out of thy
Kingdome with a dagger of Lath, and drive all thy Sub-
jects afore thee like a flocke of Wilde-geefe, Ile never
weare haire on my face more. You Prince of Wales?

Prin. Why you horſon round man? what's the matter?

Fal. Are you not a coward ? Anſwere me to that, and
Poines there?

Prin. Ye fetch paunch, and yee call me Coward, Ile
ſtab thee.

Fal. I call thee Coward ? Ile fee the thee damn'd ere I call
 thee Coward: but I would give a thouſand pound I could
 run as faſt as thou canſt. You are ſtraight enough in the
 shoulders, you care not who fees your backe: Call you
 that

The Fifth Part of King Henry the Fourth.

57

chat backing of your friends? a plague upon such backing:
give me them that will face me. Give me a Cup of Sack,
I am a Rogue if I drunke to day.

Prince. O Villaine, thy Lippes are scarce wip'd, since
thou drunk't, laft.

Falst. All's one for that.

He drinkes.

A plague of all Cowards still, say I.

Prin. What's the matter ?

Falst. What's the matter ? here bee foure of us, have
ta'ne a thousand pound this Morning.

Prin. Where is it, Iaske ? where is it ?

Falst. Where is it ? taken from us, it is a hundred upon poore foure of us.

Prin. What, a hundred, man ?

Falst. I am a Rogue, if I were not at halfcword with
a dozen of them two hours together. I have faped by
miracle. I am eight times thrust through the Doublet,
four through the Hofe, my Buckler cut through and
through, my Sword hackt like a Hand-faw, ecce fignem.
I never dealt better fince I was a man : all would not doe.
A plague of all Cowards: let them fpeake ; if they fpeake
more or leſſe then truth, they are villaines and the fonnes
of darkneſſe.

Prince. Speake firs, how was it ?

Gad. We foure fet upon fome dozen.

Falst. Sixteene, at leaſt, my Lord.

Gad. And bound them.

Peto. No, no, they were not bound.

Falst. You Rogue they were bound, every man of them,
or I am a few elfe, an Ebrew-Iew.

Gad. As we were sharing, fome fixe or feaven freſh men
fet upon us.

Falst. And unbound the reſt, and then come in the
other.

Prince. What, fought ye with them all ?

Falst. All? I know not what ye call all: but if I fought
not with fiftie of them, I am a bunch of Radifh : if there
werenot two or three and fiftie upon poore olde Iacke,
then am I no two-legg'd Creature.

Poin. Pray Heaven, you have not murthered fome of
them.

Falst. Nay, that's paſt praying for. I have pepper'd
two of them: Two I am fure I have payed, two Rogues
in Buckrom Sutes. I tell thee what, Hal, if I tell thee a
Lye, ſpit in my face, call me Horfe: thou knoweſt my olde
word : here Iay and thus I bore my point; foure Rogues
in Buckrom let drive at me.

Prince. What, foure? thou fayd'ſt but two, even now.

Falst. Foure Hal, I told thee foure.

Poin. I, I, he fayd foure.

Falst. Theſe foure came all a-front, and mainly thrust
at me; I made no more adoe, but tooke all their feaven
points in my Targuet, thus.

Prince. Seven? why there were but foure, even now.

Falst. In Buckrom.

Poin. I, foure, in Buckrom Sutes.

Falst. Seven, by theſe hilts, or I am a Villaine elfe.

Prin. Prethee let him alone, we ſhall have more anon.

Falst. Doelt thou heare me, Hal?

Prin. I, and marke thee too, Iacke,

Falst. Doe fo, for it is worth the lifning too: theſe
nine in Buckrom, that I told thee of.

Prin. So, two more adreadie.

Falst. Their Points being broken.

Poin. Downe fell his Hofe.

Falst. Began to give me ground; but I followed me

cloſe, came in foot and hand; and with a thought, ſeaven of
the eleven I pay'd.

Prin. O monſtrous! eleven Buckrom men growne out
of two?

Falst. But as the Devill would have it, three miſ-be-
gotten Knaves, in Kendall Greene, came at my Backe, and
let drive at me; for it was ſo darke, Hal, that thou could'ſt
not fee thy Hand.

Prin. Theſe Lyes are like the Father that begets them,
groſſe as a Mountaine, open, palpable. Why thou Clay-
brayn'd Guts, thou Knotty-pated Foole, thou Horſon ob-
ſcene greaſie Tallow Catch.

Falſt. What, art thou mad? art thou mad? is not the
truth, the truth?

Prin. Why, how could'ſt thou know theſe men in
Kendall Greene, when it was to darke, thou could'ſt not
fee thy Hand? Come, tell us your reaſon: what ſay'ſt thou
to this?

Poin. Come, your reaſon Iacke, your reaſon.

Falſt. What, upon compulſion? No: were I at the
Strappado, or all the Racks in the World, I would not
tell you on compulſion. Give you a reaſon on compulſi-
on ? If reaſons were as plenty as Black-berries, I would
give no man a reaſon upon compulſion, I.

Prin. Ile be no longer guiltie of this finne. This ſan-
guine Coward, this Bed-preſler, this Horſ-back-breaker,
this huge Hill of Fleſh.

Falſt. Away you Starveling, you Elſe-skin, you dried
Neats tongue, Bulles-piſſell, you flocke-ſiſh: O for breth
to vtter. What is like thee? You Tailors yard, you ſheath,
you bow-caſe, you vile ſtanding rucke.

Prin. Well, breathe a while, and then to tagaine: and
when thou haſt tyr'd thy ſelſe in bafe comparifons, heare
me ſpeake but thus,

Poin. Marke Iacke.

Prin. We two, ſaw you foure fet on foure and bound
them, and were Maſters of their Wealth: mark now how
a plaine Tale ſhall put you downe. Then did we two, fet
on you foure, and with a word, outfac'd you from your
prize, and have it: yea, and can ſhow it you in the Houſe.
And Falſaſſe, you carried your Guts away as nimbly, with
as quicke dexteritie, and roared for mercy, and ſtill ranne
and roar'd, as ever I heard Bull-Caſe. What a Slave art
thou, to hacke thy ſword as thou haſt done, and then ſay
it was in fight. What trick? what device ? what starting
hole canſt thou now find out, to hide thee from this open
and apparant ſhame?

Poines. Come, let's heare Iacke: What tricke haſt
thou now?

Fal. I knew ye as well as he that made ye. Why heare
ye my Maſters, was it for me to kill the Heire apparant ?
Should I turne upon the true Prince? Why, thou knoweſt
I am as valiant as Hercules: but beware Inſtinct, the Lyon
will not touch the true Prince: Inſtinct is a great matter.
I was a Coward on Inſtinct: I ſhall thinke the better of
my ſelſe, and thee, during my life: I, for a valiant Lyon,
and thou for a true Prince. But Lads, I am glad you have
the Mony. Hofſeſſe, clap to the doors: watch to Nighe,
pray to morrow. Gallants, Lads, Boyes, Hearts of Gold,
all the good Titles of Fellowship come to you. What,
ſhall we be merry ? ſhall we have a Play extempory.

Prin. Content, and the argument ſhall bee, thy running
away.

Fal. A, no more of that Hall, and thou loveſt me.

Enter Hofſeſſe.

Hoff. My Lord, the Prince ?

Prin.

Prin. How now my Lady the Hofteſſe, what fay't
thou to me?

Hofteſſe. Marry, my Lord, there is a Noble man of the
Court at doore would ſpeakewith you: he ſayes, he comes
from your Father.

Prin. Give him as much as will make him a Royall
man, and ſend him backe againe to my Mother.

Falſt. What manner of man is he?

Hofſeſſe. An old man.

Falſt. What doth Gravitie out of his Bed at Midnight?
Shall I give him his anſwere?

Prin. Prethee doe Iacke.

Falſt. Faith, and Ile ſend him packing.

Exit.

Prince. Now Sirs: you fought faire; so did you
Peto, so did you Bardol: you are Lyons too, you ranne
away upon inſtinct: you will not touch the true Prince
no; ſie.

Bard. 'Faith, I ranne when I faw others ſinne.

Prin. Tell mee now in carueſt, how came Falſtaffeſes
Sword ſo hackt?

Peto. Why, he hackt it with his Dagger, and faid, he
would ſweare truth out of England: but he would make
you beleeve it was done in fight, and perſwaded us to do
the like.

Bard. Yea, and to tickle our Noſes with Spear-graſſe,
to make them bleed, and then beſlabber our garments,
with it, and ſweare it was the blood of true men. I did
that I did not this seven yeares before, I bluſht to heare
his monſtrous devices.

Prin. O Villaine, thou ſtoſeſt a Cup of Sacke eighteene
yeeres agoe, and wert taken with the manner, and ever
fince thou haſt bluſht extempore: thou hadſt fire and
ſword on thy ſide, and yet thou ranneſt away; what in-
ſtinct hadſt thou for it?

Bard. My Lord, doe you fee theſe Meteors? doe you
behold theſe exhalations?

Prin. I doe,

Bard. What thinke you they portend ?

Prin. Hot Livers, and cold Purſes.

Bard. Choler, my Lord, if rightely taken.

Prin. No, if rightly taken, Halter.

Enter Falſtaffeſe.

Heere comes leane Iacke, heere comes bare-bone. How
now my ſweete Creature of Bombaſt, how long is't agee,
Iacke, ſince thon faw'ſt thine owne Knee?

Falſt: My owne Knee ? When I was about thy yeeres
(Hal) I was not an Eagles Talent in the Waffe, I could
have crept into any Aldermans Thumbe-Ring : a plague
of fighting and griſe, it blowes a man up like a Bladder.
There's villanous Newes abroad: heere was Sir Iohn
Braby from your Father ; you muſt goe to the Court in
the Morning. The fame mad fellow of the North, Percy,
and hee of Wales, that gave Amamon the Baſtinado,
and made Lucifer Cuckold, and ſwore the Devill his true
Leige-man upon the Croſſe of a Welch-hooke ; what a
Palgue call you him?

Poin. O, Glendower.

Falſt. Owen, Owen; the fame, and his Sonne in Law
Morsimer, and old Northumberland, and the ſprightly
Scot of Scots, Dowglas, that runnes a Horſe-backe up a
Hill perpendicular.

I rin. Hee that rides at high ſpeede, and with a Pifſoll
kills a Sparrow flying.

Falſt. You haue hit it.

Prin. So did he neuer the Sparrow.

Falſt. Well, that Raſcall hath good mettall in him, hee
will not ſinne.

Prin. Why, what a Raſcall art thou then, to prayſe him
ſo for running?

Falſt. A Horſe-backe (ye Cuckoe) but a foot he will
not budge a foot.

Priu. Yes Iacke, upon inſtinct.

Falſt. I grant ye, upon inſtinct: Well, hee is there too,
and one Mordake, and a thouſand blew-Cappes more,
Worceſter is ſtolne away by Night: thy Fathers Beard is
turn'd white with the Newes; you may buy Land now
as cheape as flinking Mackrell.

Prin. Then 'tis like, if there come a hot Sunne, and this
civill buffetting hold, wee ſhall buy Maiden-heads as they
buy hob-nayles, by the hundreds.

Falſt. By the Maſſe Lad, thou fay'ſt true, it is like wee
will have good trading that way. But tell me Hal, are
not thou horrible afar'd ? thou being Heire apparant,
could the World picke thee out three ſuch Enemyes a-
gaine, as that Fiend Dowglas, that Spirit Percy, and that
Devill Glendower ? Art thou not horrible afraid? Doth
not thy blood thrill at it?

Prin. Not a whit: I Iacke ſome of thy inſtinct.

Falſt. Well, thou wilt be horrible chidde to morrow,
when thou commeſt to thy Father: if thou doe love me
practice an anſwere.

Prin. Doe thou ſtand for my Father, and examine mee
upon the particulars of my Life.

Falſt. Shall I ? content: This Chayre ſhall bee my
State, this Dagger my Scepter, and this Cuffion my
Crowne.

Prin. Thy State is taken for a Ioyn'd-Stoole, thy Gol-
den Scepter for a Leaden Dagger, and thy precious rich
Crowne, for a pittifull bald Crowne.

Prin. Well, and the fire of Grace be not quite out of
tho now ſhalt thou be moved. Give me a Cup of Sacke
to make mine eyes looke redde, that it may bee thought I
have wept, for I muſt ſpeake in paſſion, and I will do it
in King Cambyſes veine.

Prin. Well, heere is my Legge.

Falſt. And heere is my ſpeech: ſtand aſide Nobilitie.

Hofſeſſe. This is excellent ſport, yfaith.

Fal. W eepe not, ſweet Queene, for trickling teares
are vaine.

Hofſeſſe. O the Father, how hee holdes his counte-
nance?

Fal. For Gods ſake Lords, convey me thy truſtfull Queen,
For teares doe ſtop the ſlond-gates of her eyes.

Hofſeſſe. O rare, he doth it as like one of theſe harlot
Players as ever I fee.

Fal. Peace good Pint-pot, peace good Tickle-braine.
Harry, Idoe not onely marvell where thou ſpendest thy
time; but alſo, how thou art accompanied: For though
the Camomile, the more it is troden, the falſer it growes,
yet Youth, the more it is waſted, the ſooner it weares.
Thou art my ſonne: I have partly thy Mothers Word,
partly my Opinion; but chiefely, a villanous tricke of
thine Eye, and a foolish hanging of thy nether Lippe, that
doth warrant me. If then thou bee Sonne to me, here
lyeth the point: why, being Sonne to me, art thou to
pointed at? Shall the bleſſed Sonne of heaven prove a
Micher, and eate Black-berries? a queſtion not to bee
askt. Shall the Sonne of England proove a Theeſe, and
take Purſes? a queſtion to bee askt. There is a thing,
Harry, which thou haſt often heard of, and it is knowne to
many

59

many in our Land, by the Name of Pitch : this Pitch (as ancient Writers doe report) doth defile; so doth the companie thou keept : for Harry, now I doe not speake to thee in Drinke, but in Teares; not in pleafure, but in Paf- tion; not in Words onely, but in Woes alio : and yet there is a vertuous man, whom I have often noted in thy companie, but I know not his Name.

Prin. What manner of man, and it like your Mas- jeftie?

Falſt. A goodly portly man yfaith, and a corpulent, of a chearefull Looke, a pleasing Eye, and a moſt noble Carriage, and as I thinke, his age some fifſie, or (byrllady) inclining to threeſcore ; and now I remember mee, his Name is Falſaffe : if that man ſhould be lewdly given, he deceives mee; for Harry, I fee vertue in his Lookes. If then the Tree may be knowne by the Fruit, as the Fruit by the Tree, then peremptorily I ſpeake it, there is Vertue in that Falſaffe : him keepe with, the reſt banifh. And tell me now, thou naughtie Varlet, tell me, where haſt thou beene this moneth?

Prin. Do't thou ſpeake like a King ? doe thou stand for me, and Ile play my Father.

Falſt. Depofe me : if thou do't it haſte so gravely, so majeſtially, both in word and matter, hang me up by the heeles for a Rabbet-fucker, or a Poulterers Hare.

Prin. Well, heere I am fet.

Falſt. And heere I ſtand : judge my Maſters.

Prin. Now Harry, whence come you ?

Falſt. My Noble Lord, from Eaſt-cheape.

Prin. The complaints I heare of thee, are grievous.

Falſt. Yfaith, my Lord, they are falſe : Nay, Ile tickle ye for a young Prince.

Prin. Sweareſt thou, ungracious Boy ? henceforth ne're looke on me : thou art violently carried away from Grace; there is a Devil haunts thee, in the like neſe of a fat old Man; a Tunne of Man is thy Companion : Why do't thou converſe with that Trunke of Humors, that Boulting-Hutch of Bcaſſineſſe, that ſwolne Parcell of Dropſies, that huge Bombard of Sacke, that ſtuſt Cloak- bagge of Guts, that roſted Maunting-Tree Oxe with the Puddings in his Belly, that Reverend Vice, that grey Ini- quitie, that Father Ruffian, that Vanitie in yeares? where- in is he good, but to tathe Sacke and drinke it ? wherein neat and cleanly, but to carue a Capon, and eate it ? where- in Canning, but in Craft ? wherein Craftie, but in Villa- nie ? wherein Villanous, but in all things ? wherein wor- thy, but in nothing?

Falſt. I would your Grace would take me with you: whom means your Grace?

Prin. That villanous abominable mis-leader of Youth, Falſaffe, that old white-bearded Sathan.

Falſt. My Lord, the man I know.

Prin. I know thou do'ſt.

Falſt. But to ſay, I know more harme in him then in my ſelfe, were to ſay more then I know. That he is olde (the more the pittie) his white haires doe wittneſſe it : but that hee is (faving your reverence) a Whore-ma- ſter, that I utterly deny. If Sacke and Sugar be a ſault, Heaven helpe the wicked : if to be olde and merry, be a finne, then many an olde Hofte that I know, is damn'd : if to be ſat, be to be hated, then Pharaobs leane Kine arc to be loved. No, my good Lord, banifh Peto, banifh Bardolph, banifh Poines: but for ſweete Iacke Falſaffe, kinde Iacke Falſaffe, true Iacke Falſaffe, valiant Iacke Fal- ſaffe, and therefore more valiant, being as he is olde Iacke Falſaffe, banifh not him thy Harryes companie, banifh

not him thy Harryes companie; banifh plumpe Iacke, and banifh all the World.

Prince. I doe, I will.

### Enter Bardolph running.

Bard. O, my Lord, my Lord, the Sherife, with a moſt monſtrous Watch, is at thee doore.

Falſt. Out you Rogue, play out the Play : I have much to ſay in the behalfe of that Falſaffe.

### Enter the Hofteffe.

Hofteffe. O, my Lord, my Lord.

Falſt. Heigh, heigh, the Divell rides upon a Fiddle- ſticke : what's the matter ?

Hofteffe. The Sherife and all the Watch are at the doore: they are come to ſearch the Houſe, ſhall I let them in ?

Falſt. Do't thou heare Hal, never call a true piece of Gold a Counterfeit : thou art effentially made, without feeming ſo.

Prince. And thou a natural Coward, without in- ſtinct.

Falſt. I deny your Alaior ; if you will deny the Sherife, fo : if not, let him enter. If I become not a Cart as well as anothe man, a plague on my bringing up : I hope I ſhall as ſoon be ftrangled wth a Halter, as ano- ther.

Prince. Goe hide thee behinde the Arras, the reſt wake up above. Now my Maſters, for a true Face and good Conſience.

Falſt. Both which I have had : but their date is out, and therefore Ile hide me.

Prince. Call in the Sherife.

### Enter Sherife and the Carrier.

Prince. Now Maſter Sherife, what is your will with me ?

She. First pardon me, my Lord. A Hue and Cry hath followed certaine men unto this houſe.

Prince. What men ?

She. One of them is well knowne, my gracious Lord, a groſe fat man.

Car. As fat as Butter.

Prince. The man, I doe affure you, is not heere. For I my ſelfe at this time have imploy'd him : And Sherife, I will engage my word to thee, That I will by tomorrow Dinner time, Send him to anſwere thee, or any man, For any thing he shall be charg'd withalſt And fo let me entreat you, leave the houſe.

She. I will, my Lord : there are two Gentlemen Have inthis Robbersy loft three hundred Markes.

Prince. It may be fo : if he have robb'd theſe men, He ſhall be anſwerable : and fo farewell.

She. Good Night, my Noble Lord.

Prince. I thinke it is good Morrow, is it not?

She. Indeede, my Lord, I thinke it be two a Clocke.

Exit.

Prince. This oyly Rascall is knowne as well as Poules : goe call him forth.

Peto. Falſaffe ? faſt a ſleepe behind the Arras, and ſnorting like a Horſe.

Prince. Harke, how hard he fetches breath : ſearch his Pockets.

He searcheth his Pockets and findeth certaine Papers.

Prince. What haſt thou found ?

Peto. Nothing but papers, my Lord.

Prince. Let's fee, what be they ? read them.

Peto. Item, a Capon.

Item, Sawce.

Item, Sacke, two Gallons,

Item, Anchoves and Sacke after fupper.

Item, Bread.

ii·s·iii·d.

iii·d.

v·s·viii·d.

ii·s·v·d.

ob.

Prince. O monſtrous, but one halfe penny-worth of
Bread to this intollerable deale of Sacke ? What there is
elſe, keefe cloſe, weele reade it at more advantage : there
let him ſlcepe till day. Ile to the Court in the Morning:
We muſt all to the Warres, and thy place ſhall be hono-
rable. Ile procure this fat Rogue a Charge of Foot, and
I know his death will be a Match of Twelve-score. The
Money ſhall be pay'd backe againe with advaſage. Be
with me betimes in the Morning: and ſo good morrow
Peto.

Peto. Good morrow, good my Lord.

Exeunt

Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Enter Hotſpurre, Worcester, Lord Mortimer,
Owen Glendower.

Mort. Theſe promifes are faire, the parties ſire,
And our inducation full of profitable hope.

Hotſp. Lord Mortimer, and Couſin Glendower,
Will you fit downe ?
And Vnkleſt Worcester; a plague upon it,
I have forgot the Mappe.

Glend. No, here it is :

Sit Couſin Percy, fit good Couſin Hotſpurre:
For by that Name, as oft as Lancaſter doſpeake of you,
His Cheekes looke pale, and with a riling ſigh,
He wiſheth you in Heaven.

Hotſp. And you in Hell, as oft as he heares Owen Glen-
dower iſpoke of.

Glend. I cannot blame him : At my Nativitie,
The front of heaven was full of fierie ſhapes,
Of baruing Creſlets: and at my Birth,
The frame and foundation of the Earth
Shak'd like a Coward.

Hotſp. Why ſo it would have done at the fame ſeaſon
if your Mothers Cat had but kitten'd, though your ſelſe
had never beene borne,

Glend. I ſay the Earth did ſhake when I was borne.

Hot. And I ſay the Earth was not of my minde:
If you ſuppofe, as fearing you, it ſhooke.

Glend. The heavens were all on fire, the Earth did tremble.

Hot. Oh, then the Earth ſhooke
To fee the Heavens on fire,
And not in feare of your Nativitie.

Difeaſed nature oftentimes breaks forth
In itrange eruptions; and the teeming Earth
Is with a kinde of Colicie pincht and vext,
By the imprifoning of unruly Winde

Within her Wombe : which for enlargement ſtriving,
Shakes the old Beldame Earth, and tombles downe

Steepleſes, and moſſe-growne Towers. At your Birth,
Our Grandam Earth, having this diſtemperature,
In paffion ſhooke.

Glend. Couſin : of many men
I doe not bear theſe Croſſings: give me leave
To tell you once againe, that at my Birth
The front of Heaven was full of fierie ſhapes,
The Goates ranne from the Mountaines, and the Heaſts
Were ſtrangely clamorous to the frighted fields :
Theſe ſignes have markt me extraordinarie,
And all the courſes of my Life doe ſhow,
I am not in the Roll of common men.
Where is the Living, dipt in with the Sea,
That chides the Bankes of England, Scotland, and Wales,
Which calls me Pupill, or hath read to me?
And bring him out, that is but womans ſoone,
Can trace me in the tedious wayes of Art,
And hold me pace in deepe experiments,

Hot. I thinke there's no man ſpeakes better WELſh :
Ile to Dinner.

Mort. Peace Couſin Percy, you will make him mad.

Glend. I can call Spirits from the vafſt Deepc.

Hot. Why ſo can I, or ſo can any man :
But will they come, when you doe call for them?
Glend. Why, I can teach thee, Couſin, to command the
Devill.

Hot. And I can teach thee, Couſin, to ſhame the Divell,
By telling truth. Tell truth, and ſhame the Divell.

If thou have power to raife him, bring him hither,
And Ile be ſworne, I have power to ſhame him hence.
Oh, while you live, tell truth, and ſhame the Divell.

Mort. Come, come, no more of this unprofitable
Chat.

Glend. Three times hath Henry Ballingbrooke made head
Againſt my power : thrice from the Banks of Wye,
And fandy-Bottom'd Severne, have I hent him
Bootieſſe home, and Weather-beaten backe.

Hot. Home without Bootes,
And in foule Weather too,
How ſcapes he Agues in the Divels name ?

Glend. Come, here's the Mappe :

Shall wee devide our Right,
According to our threefold order ta'ne?

Mor. The Arch-Deacon hath devidedit
Into three Limits, very equally :

England, from Trent, and Severne hitherto,
By South and East, is to my part affign'd :
All Weſtward, Wales, beyond the Severne ſhore,
And all the fertile Land within that bound,

To Owen Glandower : And deare Couze, to you
The remnant Northward, lying off from Trent.

And our indentures Tripartite are drawne :
Which being fealed enterchangeably,

( A bufneſſe that this Night may execute)
To morrow, Couſin Percy, you and I,

And my good Lord of Worcester will ſet forth,
To meet your Father, and the Scotſtih Power,
As is appointed us at Shrewsbury.

My Father Glendower is not readie yet,
Nor ſhall we neede his helpe theſe foureteene dayes :
Within that ſpace, you may have drawne together
Your Tenants, Friends, and neighboring Gentlemen.

Glend. A ſhorter time ſhall ſend me to you, Lords:
And in my conduct ſhall your Ladies come,
From whom you now muſt ſteale, and take no leave
For there will be a World of Water ſhed,

Vpon

61

Vpon the parting of your Wives and you:

**Hotsp.** Me thinkes my moity, North from Barton here,
In quantitie equals not one of yours :
See, how this River coms me cranking in,
And cuts me from the beft of all my Land,
A huge halfe Moone, a monitrous Cantle out.
I have the Currant in this place damn'd up,
And here the flug and Silver Trent shall runne,
In a new Chanell, faire and evenly :
It shall not winde with such a deepe indent,
To rob me of so rich a Bottome here.

**Gland.** Not winde? it shall, it muft, you fee it doth.

**Mort.** Yea, but marke how he beares his courfe,
And runnes me up, with like advantage on the other fide,
Gelding the oppofed Continent as much,
As on the other fide it takes from you.

**Wore.** Yea, but a little Charge will trench him here,

And on this North fide winne this Cape of Land,

And then he runnes ftraight and even.

**Hotsp.** Ile have it so, a little Charge will doe it.

**Gland.** Ile not have it alter'd.

**Hotsp.** Will not you ?

**Gland.** No, nor you shall not.

**Hotsp.** Who shall fay me may ?

**Gland.** Why, that will I.

**Hotsp.** Let me not underftand you then, I fpeake it in
Welth.

**Gland.** I can fpeake English, Lord, as well as you:

For I was train'd up in the English Court;

Where, being but young, I framed to the Harpe,

Many an English Dittie, lovely well,

And gave the Tongue a helpefull Ornament,

A Verne that was never feene in you.

**Hotsp.** Hary, and I am glad of it with all my heart,

I had rather be a Kitten, and cry mew,

Then one of thefe fame Meeter Ballad-mongers :

I had rather heare a Brazen Candlesticke turn'd,

Or a dry Wheel grate on the Axle-rrce,

And that would fet my teeth on edge,

Nothing fo much, as mincing Poetrie ;

'Tis like the forc't gate of a thuffing Nagge.

**Gland.** Come, you shall have Trent turn'd.

**Hotsp.** I do not care : Ile give thrice so much Land

To any well-deferring friend ;

But in the way of Bargaine, marke ye me,

Ile cavill on the ninth part of a hayre,

Are the Indentures drawne? shall we be gone ?

**Gland.** The Moone fhines faire,

You may away by Night :

Ile haſte the Writer; and withall,

Breake with your Wives, of your departure hence :

I am afraid my Daughter will runne madde.

So much the doteth on her Mortimer.

Exit.

**Mort.** Fie, Couſin Percy, how you croſſe my Fa-
ther.

**Hotsp.** I cannot choofe : sometime he angers me,
With telling me of the Moldwarpe and the Ant,

Of the Dreamer Merlin, and his Prophecies;

And of a Dragon, and a finne-leffe Fifth,

A clip-wing'd Griffin, and a moulten Raven,

A couching Lyon, a ramping Cat,

And fuch a deale of skimble-skamble Stuffe,

As puts me from my Faith. I tell you what,

He held me laſt Night, at leaſt, nine howres,

In reckning up the feverall Devils Names,

That were his Lacqueyes :

I cry'd hum, and well, goe too,

But mark'd him not a word. O, he is as tedious

As a tyred Horſe, a railing Wifc,

Worſe then a moakie houſe. I had rather live

With Cheefe and Garlike in a Windmill farre,

Then feede on Gates, and have him talke to me,

In any Summer-Houſe in Chriſtendome.

**Mort.** In faith he was a worthy Gentleman;
Exceeding well read, and profited,

In ſtrange Concealements :

Valiant as a Lyon, and wondrous affable,

And as bountifull, as Mines of Indſa.

Shall I tell you, Couſin,

He holds your temper in a High respect,

And curbs himſelfe, even of his natural ſcope,

When you doe croſſe his humor : faith he does.

I warrant you, that man is not alive,

Might ſo have tempted him, as you have done,

Without the taſte of danger, and reproofe :

But doe not uſe it oft, let me entreat you.

**Wore.** In faith, my Lord, you are too wilſul blame,

And ſince your comming hither, have done enough,

To put him quite befides his patience :

You muſt needes learne, Lord, to amend this fault ;

Though ſometimes it ſhew Greatneſſe, Courage, Blood,

And that's the deareſt grace it renders you ;

Yet oftentimes it doth prefent Harſh Rage,

Defect of manners, want of government,

Pride, Haughtineſſe, Opinion, and Difdaine :

The leaſt of which, haunting a Noble man,

Loſeth mens hearts, and leaves behind a ſtaine

Vpon the beautie of all parts befides,

Beguiling them of commendation.

**Hotsp.** Well, I am iſchool'd :

Good-manners be your ſpeede;

Heere come your Wives, and let us take our leave.

Enter Gleudover, with the Ladies.

**Mort.** This is the deadly ſpight that angers me,
My Wifc can I fpeake no English, I no WELſh.

**Gland.** My Daughter weepes, thee'le not part with you,
Shee'le be a Souldier too, thee'le to the Warres.

**Mort.** Good Father tell her, that the and my Aunt Percy
Shall follow in your Conduct ſpeedily.

Glendover ſpeakes to him Wellſh, and the an-
ſweres him in the ſames.

**Gland.** She is desperate heere :
A peeviſh ſelfe-will'd Harlotry,
One that no perſwafion can doe good upon,

The Lady ſpeakes in Wellſh.

**Mort.** I underſtand thy Lookes : that pretty Wellſh
Which thou powr'ſt down from theſe ſwelling Heavens,
I am too perfect in : and but for ſhame,
In fuch a parley ſhould I anſwere thee.

The Lady againe in Wellſh.

**Mort.** I underſtand thy Kiffies, and thou mine,
And that's a feeble disputation :

But I will never be a Truant, Love,

Till I have learn'd thy Language: for thy tongue

Maks.

62

Makes Welsh as sweet as Ditties highly penn'd,
Sung by a faire Queene in a Summers Bowre,
With ravishing Divison to her Lute.

Glend. Nay, if thou melt, then will she runne madde.

The Lady speaks againe in Welſu.

Mort. O, I am Ignorance it selfe in this.

Glend. She bids you,

On the wanton Ruffes lay you downe,
And reft your gentle Head upon her Lappe,
And she will ſing the ſong that pleafeth you,
And on your Eye-lids Crowne the God of Sleepe,
Charming your blood with pleafing heavineſſe;
Making ſuch difference betwixt Wake and Sleepe,
As is the difference betwixt Day and Night,
The houre before the Heavenly Harneis'd Teeme
Begins his Golden Progreſſe in the Eaſt.

Mort. With all my heart Ile ſit, and heare her ſing:
By that time will our Booke, I thinke, be drawne.

Glend. Doe so:
And thate Mufitians that shall play to you,
Hang in the Ayrea thouand Leagues from thence;
And ſtraight they shall be here : ſit, and attend.

Hotſp. Come Kate, thou art perfect in lying downe:
Come, quicke, quicke, that I may lay my Head in thy
Lappe.

Lady. Goe, ye giddy-Gooſe.

The Muficke playes.

Hotſp. Now I perceive the Devill underſtands Welſh,
And 'tis no marvell he is ſo humorous :

Byrlandy he's a good Mufitian.

Lady. Then would you be nothing but Muficall,
For you are altogether governed by humors :
Lye till ye theſe, and heare the Lady ſing in Welſh.

Hotſp. I had rather heare (Lady) my Brach howle in
Irifh.

Lady. Would'ſt have thy Head broken ?

Hotſp. No.

Lady. Then be ſtill.

Hotſp. Neyther, 'tis a Womans fault.

Lady. Now God helpe thee.

Hotſp. To the Welſh Ladies Bed,

Lady. What's that?

Hotſp. Peace the ſings.

Heere the Lady ſings a Welſh Song.

Hotſp. Come, Ile have your Song too.

Lady. Not mine, in good foot.

Hotſp. Not yours, in good foot?

You ſweare like a Comſit-makers Wife :
Not you, in good foot; and, as true as I live ;
And, as God ſhall mend me; and as ſure as day :
And giveſt ſuch Sarcenet ſuretie for thy Oathes,
As if thou never walk't further then Finsbury.
Sweare me, Kate, like a Lady, as thou art,
A good mouth-ſilling Oath: and leave in foot,
And ſuch proteſt of Pepper-Ginger-bread,
To Velvet-Guards, and Sunday-Citizens.

Come, ſing.

Lady. I will not ſing.

Hotſp. 'Tis the next way to turne Taylor, or be Red-
breſt teacher: and the Indentures bee drawne, Ile away

within theſe two howres: and ſo come in, when ye
will.

Exiſt.

Glend. Come, come, Lord Mortimer, you are as flow,
As hot Lord Percy is on fire to goe,

By this our Booke is drawne: wee'le but ſeale,
And then to Horſe immediately.

Mort. With all my heart.

Exemem.

## Scena Secunda.

Enter the King, Prince of Wales, and others.

King. Lords, give us leave :

The Prince of Wales, and I,
Muſt have ſome private conference :

But be neere at hand,

For we will preſently have need of you.

Exemem Lords.

I know not whether Heaven will have it ſo,
For ſome diſpleafing ſervice I have done;
That in his ſecret Doome, out of my Blood,
Hee'le breed Revengement, and a Scourge for me:
But thou do't in thy paſſages of Life,
Make me believe, that thou art only mark'd
For the hot vengeance, and the Rod of heaven
To puniſh my Miſtreadings. Tell me, cle,
Could ſuch inordinate and low deſires,
Such poore, ſuch bare, ſuch lewd, ſuch meane attempt,
Such barren pleatures, rude ſociety,
As thou art matcht withall, and grafted too,
Accompanie the greatneſſe of thy blood,
And hold their levell with thy Princely heart?

Prince. So plicaſe your Majeſtly, I would I could
Quit all offences with as cleare excufe,
As well as I am doubtleſſe I can purge
My ſelfe of many I am charg'd withall :
Yet ſuch extenuation let me begge,
As in reproofe of many Tales devis'd,
Which oft the Eare of Greatneſſe needes muſt heare,
By ſmiling Pick-thankes, and bafe Newes-mongers;
I may for ſome things true, wherein my youth
Hath faultie wandred, and irregular,
Finde pardon on my true ſubmission.

King. Heaven pardon thee :
Yet let me wonder, Harry,
At thy affections, which doe hold a Wing
Quite from the flight of all thy anceſtors.
Thy place in Councell thou haſt rudely loft,
Which by thy younger brother is ſupply'd;
And art almost an alien to the hearts
Of all the Court and Princes of my blood.
The hope and expectation of thy time
Is ruin'd, and the Soule of every man
Prophetical do ſore-thinke thy fall.
Had I ſo lavish of my prefence bee,
So common hackney in the eyes of men,
So ſtale and cheap to vulgar Company :
Opinion, that did helpe me to the Crowne,
Had ſtill kept loyall to poſſeffion,
And left me in reputeſſe banifhment,
A fellow of no marke, nor likely hood.
By being ſeldome ſeene, I could not ſtirre,
But like a Comet, I was wondred at,

That

That men would tell their Children, This is he:
Others would say, Where, Which is *Bullingbrooke*.
And then I stole all Courtesie from Heaven,
And dreft my selfe in such Humility,
That I did pluke Allegiance from mens hearts,
Lowd Showts and Salutations from their mouths,
Even in the prefence of the Crowned King.
Thus I did keepe my Perfon fresh and new,
My prefence like a Robe Pontifical,
Ne're feene, but wondred at: and so my State,
Seldome but fumptuous, fhewed like a Feast,
And wonne by rareneſſe fuch Solemnity.
The skipping King he ambled up and downe,
With fhallow lefters, and rafh Bavin Wits,
Soone kindled, and foone burnt, carded his State,
Mingled his Royalty with Carping Ffoles,
Had his great Name prophaned with their Scornes,
And gave his Countenance, againſt his Name,
Tolaugh at gybing Boyces, and ſtand the pufh
Of every Beardleſle vaine Comparative;
Grew a Companion to the common Streetes,
Enfeoff'd him ſelfe to Popularity:
That being daily ſwallowed by mens Eyes,
They furfered with Honye, and began to loathe
The taſte of Swetneſſe, whereof a little
More then a little, is by much too much.
So when he had occafation to be ſeene,
He was but as the Cuckow is in June,
Heard, not regarded: ſeene but with ſuch Eyes,
As ficle and blunted with Community,
Aſſoed no extraordinary Gaze,
Such as is bent on Sunne-like Majeſtly,
When it ſhines ſeldome in admiring Eyes:
But rather drowz'd, and hung their eye-lids down,
Slept in his Face, and rendred ſuch affect
As Cloudy men uſe to do their adverfaries,
Being with his prefence glutted, gorg'd, and full,
And in that very Line, *Harry*, itandeſt thou:
For thou haſt loft thy Princely Privilege,
With vile participation. Not an Eye
But is weary of thy common fight,
Save mine, which hath deſi'd to fee thee more:
Which now doth that I would not have it doe,
Make blinde it ſelfe with foolſh tenderneſſe.

*Prince.* I haſt hereafter, my thrice gracious Lord,
Be more my ſelfe.

*King.* For all the World,
Aſhou art to this houre, was *Richard* then,
When I from France fet forth at Ravenſpurgh;
And even as I was then, is *Percy* now:
Now by my Scepter, and my Soule to boot,
He hath more worthy intereſt to the ſlate
Then thou the ſhaddow of Succeſſion;
For of no Right, nor colour like to Right,
He doth fill fields with Harneis in the Realme,
Turnes head againſt the Lyons armed Iawes;
And being no more in debt to yeeres, then thou,
Leades ancient Lords, and reverent Bifhops on
To bloody Bartailes, and to brufing Armes.
What never-dying honour hath he got,
Aſkinſt renowned *Dowglas* ? whose high Deedes,
Whofe hot Incursions and great Name in Armes,
Holds from all Souldiers chieſe Majoritie,
And Militarie Title Capitall.
Through all the Kingdomes thatacknowledge Chriſt,
Thrice hath the *Hotſpurre Mars*, in ſwathing Clothes,

*This Infant Warrior*, in his Enterprifes,
Difconſtited great *Dowglas*, ta'n him once,
Enlarged him, and made a friend of him,
To fill the mouth of the deepe Defiance up,
And ſhake the peace and safety of our Thronē.
And what ſay you to this ? *Percy*, *Northumberland*.
The Arch-Bifhops Grace of Yorke, *Dowglas*, *Mortimer*,
Capitulate againſt us, and are up.
But wherefore do I tell theſe Newes to thee ?
Why, *Harry*, doe I tell thee of my Foes,
Which art my neer ſt and deareſt Enemie ?
Thou art like enough, through vaffall Feare,
Bafe Inclination, and the ſtart of Spleene,
To fight againſt me under *Percies* pay,
To dogge his heeles, and curſe at his frownes.
To ſhow how much thou art degenerate.

*Prince.* Doe not think it so, you haſt not finde it so:
And Heaven forgive them, that so much have ſway'd
Your Majeſties good thoughts away from me:
I will redeem all this on *Percies* head,
And in the cloſing of ſome glorious day,
Be bold to tell you, that I am your Sonne,
When I will weare a garment all of blood,
And ſtaine my favours in a bloody Maske:
Which waſht away, ſhall ſowre my ſhame with it.
And that ſhall be the day, when eve it lights,
That this fame Child of honour and Renowne,
This gallant *Hotſpurre*, this all-prayſed Knight,
And your unthought-of *Haray* chance to meet:
For every Honor fitting on his Helme,
Would they were multitudes, and on my head
My ſhames redoubled. For the time will come,
That I ſhall make this Northerne Youth exchange
His glorious Deedes for my Indignities:
*Percy* is but my Factor, good my Lord,
To engroſſe up glorious deedes on my behalfe:
And I will call him to ſo ſtrict account,
That he ſhall render every Glory up,
Yea, even the fleightelt worſhip of his time,
Or I will teare the Reckoning from his Heart.
This, in the Name of Heaven, I promife here:
The which, if I promife, and doe ſurvive,
I doe beſech you Majeſtie, may ſalve
The long-growne Wounds of my intemperance:
If not, the end of Life cancels all Bands,
And I will dye a hundred thouſand Deaths,
Ere breake the ſmallest parcell of this Vow.

*King.* A hundred thouſand Rebell's dye in this:
Thou haſt have Charge, and foveraigne truſt herein.

*Enter Blunt.*

*How now good Blunt? thy lookes are full of ſpeed.*

*Blunt.* So hath the Buſineſſe that I come to ſpeake of.
Lord *Mortimer* of Scotland hath ſent word,
That *Dowglas* and the English Rebels met
The eleventh of this moneth, at Shrewsbury :
A mightie and a feareful Head they are,
(If Promifes be kept on every hand)
As ever offered ſoule play in a State.

*King.* The Earle of Westmerland fet forth to day:
With him my fonne, Lord *John* of Lancaſter,
For this advertiſement is five dayes old.
On Wednesday next, *Harry* thou haſt fet forward:
On thurſday, we our ſelves will march.
*Our meeting is Bridgenorth: and Harry*, you haſt march
Through

63

Falls. There's no more faith in thee then a flu' de Prune;
nor no more truth in thee then in a drawne Fox: and for
Wooman-hood, Maid-marian may be the Deputies wife
of the Ward to thee. Go you nothing: go.

Hoff. Say, what thing? what thing?

Falls. What thing? why a thing to thanke heaven on.

Hoff. I am nothing to thanke heaven on, I would then
shouldst know it: I am an honest mans wife: and fetting
his Nighthood afide, thou art a knave to call me fo.

Falls. Setting thy womanhood afide, thou art a beaft to
fay otherwife.

Hoff. Say, what beaſt, thou knave thou?

Fal. What beaſt? Why an Otter.

Prin. An Otter, fir Iohn ? Why an Otter ?

Fal. Why? She's neither fifh nor fleſh; a man knowes
not where to have her.

Hoff. Thou art unjust man in faying ſo; thou, or any
man knowes where to have me, thou knave thou.

Prince. Thou fay'ft true Hofteffe, and he flanders thee
moft groſſely.

Hoff. So he doth you, my Lord, and fayde this other
day, You ought him a thouſand pound.

Prince. Sirrah, do I owe you a thouſand pound?

Falls. A thouſand pound Hal? A Million. Thy love is
worth a Million: thou ow'ft me thy love.

Hoff. Nay my Lord, hee call'd you Iacke, and faid he
would cudgell you.

Fal. Did I, Bardolph ?

Bar. Indeed Sir Iohn, you fayd fo.

Fal. Yea, if he faid my Ring was Copper.

Prince. I ſay 'tis Copper. Dar'ft thou bee as goodas
thy word now?

Fal. Why Hal? thou know'ſt, as thou art but a man, I
dare : but, as thou art a Prince, I feare thee, as I feare the
roaring of the Lyons Whelpe.

Prince. And why not as the Lyon?

Fal. The King himſelfe is to bee feared as the Lyon:
Do'ſt thou thinke Ile feare thee, as I feare thy Father? nay
if I do, let uy Girdle breake.

Prin. O, if it ſhould, how would thy guttes fall about
thy knees. But firra: There's no roome for Faith, Truth,
nor Honefly, in this boſome of thine: it is all fill'd uppe
with Guttes and Midriffe. Charge an honest Woman
with picking thy pocket? Why thou horſon impudent
imbolſt Rafcalf, if there were any thing in thy Pocket but
Taverne Recknings, Memorandums of Bawdie-houſes,
and one poore penny-worth of Sugar-candie to make thee
long-winded: if thy pocket were enrich'd with any o-
ther injuries but theſe, I am a Villaine: And yet you will
ſtand to it, you will not Pocket up wrong. Art thou not
afham'd?

Fal. Do'ſt thou heare Hal? Thou know'ſt in the flate
of Innocency, Adam ſell: and what would poore Iacke
Falfaffe do, in the dayes of Villany? Thou ſeelt, I have
more fleſh then another man, and therefore more frailty.
You conſeſſe then you pickt my Pocket?

Prin. It appears ſo by the Story.

Fal. Hofteffe, I forgiſe thee:

Go make ready Breakſaſt, love thy Husband,
Looke to thy Servants, and cheriſh thy Gueſts:
Thou ſhalt find me tractable to any honest reaſon:
Thou ſeelt, I am pacified ſtill.

Nay, I prethee be gone.

Exit Hofteffe.

Now Hal, to the newes at Court for the Robbery, Lad ?
How is that anſwered ?

Prin. O my ſweet Beefe :

I muſt ſtill be good Angell to thee.

The mony is paid backe againe.

Fal. O, I do not like that paying backe, 'tis a double
Labour.

Prin. I am good Friends with my Father, and may doe
any thing.

Fal. Rob me the Exchequer the firſt thing thou do'ſt,
and do it with unwaſh'd hands too.

Bard. Do my Lord.

Prin. I have procured thee Iacke, a Charge of Foot.

Fal. I would it had beene of Horſe. Where ſhal I finde
one that can ſteale well? O, for a fine theſe, of two and
twentie, or thereabout: I am heynouſly unprouided. Well
God be thanked for theſe Reſels, they offend none but
the Vertuous. I land them, I prieſe them.

Prin. Bardolph.

Bar. My Lord.

Prin. Go beare this Letter to Lord Iohn of Lancafter
To my Brother Iohn. This to my Lord of Westmeſtland,
Go Peto, to horſe: for thou, and I,
Have thirtie miles to ride yet ere dinner time.

Iacke, meet me to morrow in the Temple Hall
At two a clocke in the afternoone,

There ſhalt thou know thy Charge, and there receive
Mony and Order for their Furniture.

The Land is burning, Percie stands onhye,
And either they, or we muſt lower lye.

Fal. Rare words ? brave world.

Hofteffe, my breakfast, come :

Oh, I could wſiſt this Taverne were my drumme.

Exeunt omnes.

Actus Quartus, Scæna Prima.

Enter Harrie Hotſpurre, Worcester,
and Dowglas.

Hot. Well faid, my Noble Scot, if ſpeaking truth
In this fine Age, were not thought flatterie,
Such attribution should the Dowglas have,
As not a Souldiour of this ſeafons ittampe,

Should go ſo generall currant through the world.

By heaven I cannot flatter : I defie

The Tongues of Soothers. But a Braver place

In my hearts love, hath no man then your ſelſe.

Nay, taske me to my word : approve me Lord.

Dow. Thou art the King of Honor :

No man ſo potent breathes upon the ground,
But I will Beard him.

Enter a Messenger.

Hot. Do ſo, and 'tis well. What Letters haſt thou there?
I can but thanke you.

Meff. These Letters come from your Father.

Hot. Letters from him?

Why comes he not himſelfe?

Mefſ. He cannot come, my Lord,

He is greevous ſicke.

Hot. How ? haz he the leyſure to he ſicke now,
In ſuch a juſtling time ? Who leades his power ?
Vnder whose Government come they along?

f 2

Meff.

46

Mell. His Letters beares his minde, not I his minde.
Wor. I prethee tell me, doth he keepe his Bed ?
Mell. He did, my Lord, foure dayes ere I set forth :
And at the time of my departure thence,
He was much fear'd by his Physician.
Wor. I would the state of time had first beene whole,
Ere he by fickneſſe had beene viſited ;
His health was never better worth then now.
Hotſp. Sicke now? droope now? this ficknes doth infect
The very Life-blood of our Enterprize,
'Tis catching hither, even to our Campe.
He writes me here, that inward fickneſſe,
And that his friends by deputation
Could not, so foone be drawne : nor did he thinke it meet,
To lay so dangerous and deare a truſt
On any Soule remov'd, but on his owne.
Yet doth he give us bold advertiſement,
That with our ſmall conjunction we should on,
To fee how Fortune is diſpos'd to us,
For, as he writes, there is no quailing now,
Because the King is certainly poſſeſt
Of all our purpoſes. What ſay you to it?
Wor. Your Fathers fickneſſe is a mayme to us.
Hotſp. A perilous Gath, a very Limme lopt off :
And yet, in faith, it is not his preſent want
Seemes more then we ſhall finde it.
Were it good, to let the exact wealth of all our ſtates
All at one Caſt? To fet so rich a mayne
On the nice hazard of one doubtfull houre,
It were not good : for therein ſhould we reade
The very Bottome, and the Soule of hope
The very Lift, the very utmoſt Bound
Of all our fortunes.
Dowg. Faith and so we ſhould,
Where now remains a ſweet reſeverion.
We may boldlie iſpend, upon the hope
Of what is to come in :
A comfort of retyrement lives in this.
Hotſp. A Randevous, a Home to ſiye unto,
If that the Divell and Miſchance looke bigge
Vpon the Maydenhead of our Affaires.
Wor. But yet I would your Father had beene here :
The qualitie and Heire of our Attempt
Brookes no diviſion : If will be thought
By ſome, that know not why he is away,
That wifedome, loyaltie, and meere diſlike
Of our proceedings, kept the Earle from hence.
And thinke, how ſuch an apprehenſion
May turne the tide of ſeaſefull Faſtion,
And breede a kinde of queſtion in our cauſe :
For well you know, we of the offering ſide,
Muſt keepe aloofe from ſtrict arbitrement,
And ſtop all fight-holes, every loope, from whene.
The eye of reaſon may prie in upon us :
This abſence of your Father drawes a Curtaine,
That ſhewes the ignorant a kinde of ſeare
Before not dreamt of.
Hotſp. You ſtrayne too farre.
I rather of his abſence make this uſe :
It lends a Luftre, and more great Opinion,
A larger Dare to your great Enterprize,
Then if the Earle were here: for men muſt thinke,
If we without his helpe, can make a Head
To pufh againſt the Kingdome : with his helpe,
We ſhall o'returne it topſie-turuy downe :
Yet all goes well, yet all our joynts are whole,

Dowg. As heart can thinke :
There is not ſuch a word ſpoke of in Scotland,
At this Dreame of Feare.

Enter Sir Richard Vernon.

Hotſp. My Conſin Vernon, welcome by my Soule,
Vern. Pray God my newes be worth a welcome, Lord.
The Earle of Wefterland, feven thouſand ſtrong,
Is marching hither-wards, with Prince John.
Hotſp. No harme : what more ?
Vern. And further, I have learn'd,
The King himſelſe in perſon hath fet fourth,
Or hither-wards intended ſpeedily,
With ſtrong and mightie preparation.
Hotſp. He ſhall be welcome too,
Where is his Sonne,
The nimble-footed Mad-Cap, Prince of Wales,
And his Comrades, that daſt the World aſide,
And bid it pafſe?
Vern. All furniſht, all in Armes,
All plum'd like Eſtridges, that with the Winde
Bayted like Eagles, having lately bath'd,
Glittering in Golden Coates, like Images,
As full of ſpirit as the Moneth of May,
And gorgeous as the Sunne at Mid-fummer,
Wanton as youthfull Goates, wild as young Bulls.
Iaw young Harry with his Bever on,
His Cuffes on his thighes, gallantly arm'd,
Rife from the ground like feathered Mercury,
And vaulted with ſuch caſe into his Seat,
As if an Angell dropt downe from the Clouds,
To turne and winde a fierie Pegaſus,
And witch the World with Noble Horſemanhip,
Hotſp. No more, no more,

Worſe then the Sunne in March :
This prayſe doth nouriſh Ages : let them come.
They come like Sacrifices in their trimme,
And to the fire-cy'd Maid of moakie Warre,
All hot, and bleeding, will we offer them :
The mayled Mars ſhall on his Altar fit
Vp to the eares in blood. I am on fire,
To heare this rich reprizall is ſo nigh,
And yet not ours. Come, let me take my Horſe,
Who is to beare me like a Thunder-bolt,
Againſt the boſome of the Prince of Wales.
Hary to Hary, ſhall not Horſe to Horſe
Meete, and ne're part, till one drop downe a Coarſe?
Oh, that Glendower were come.

Ver. There is more newes :
I learned in Worceſtet, as I rode along,
He cannot draw his Power this fourteenth dayes.
Dowg. That's the worſ Tidings that I heare of
yet.

Wor. I by my faith, that beares a froſty found.
Hotſp. What may the Kings whole Battaille reach
unto ?

Ver. To thirty thouſand.
Hot. Forty let it be,
My Father and Glendower being both away,
The powres of us, may ſeue so great a day.
Come, let us take a muſter ſpeedily.
Doomſday is neere ; dye all, dye merrily.
Dow. Talke not of dying, I am out of ſeare
Of death, or deaths hand, for this one half year.

Excellence omnes.
Scens.

## Scæna Secunda.

### Enter Falstaffe and Bardolph.

Falstaff. Bardolph, get thee before to Coventry, fill me a
Bottle of Sack, our Souldiers shall march through: we'll
to Sutton-cop-hill to Night.

Bard. Will you give me money, Captaine ?

Falstaff. Lay out, lay out.

Bard. This Bottle makes an Angell.

Falstaff. And if it does, take it for thy labour: and if it
make twentie, take them all, Ile anfure the Coynage.
Bid my Lieutenant Peto meete me at the Townes end.

Bard. I will Captaine: farewell.

Exit.

Falstaff. If I bee not afham'd of my Souldiers, I am a
fowc't-Gurnet: I have mif-us'd the Kings Prefle dam-
nably. I have got, in exchange of a hundred and fiftie
Souldiers, three hundred and odde Pounds. I prefle me
none but good houfe-holders, Yeomen Sonnes: enquire
me out contracted Batchelers, such as had beene ask'd
twice on the Banes: such a Commodity of warme flaves,
as had as lieve heare the Deuill, as a Drumme; such as
feare the report of a Caliver, worfe then a truckle-Foole,
or a hurt wilde-Ducke. I preft me none but fuch Toftes
and Butter, with hearts in their Bellyes no biggler then
Pinnes heads, and they have bought out their fervices:
And now, my whole Charge confifts of Ancients, Cor-
porals, Lieutenants, Gentlemen of Companies, Slaves as
ragged as Lazarus in the painted Cloth, where the Glut-
tons Dogges licked his Sores; and fuch, as indeede were
never Souldiers, but dif-carded unjuſt Servingmen, youn-
ger Sonnes to younger Brothers, Revolted Tapſlers and
Oſtlers, Trade-faine, the Cankers of a calme World, and
long Peace, tenne times more dis-honorable ragged,
then an old-fac'd Ancient; and fuch have I to fill up the
roomes of them that have bought out their fervices: that
you would thinke, that I had a hundred and fiftie totter'd
Prodigalls, lately come from Swine-keeping, from eating
Draffes and Huskes. A mad fellow met mee on the way,
and told me, I had unloaded all the Gibbets, and preſt the
dead bodyes. No eye hath feene fuch skar-Crowes: Ile
not march through Coventry with them, that's flat. Nay,
and the Villaines march wide betwixt the Legges, as if
they had Gyves on; for indeede, I had the moſt of them
out of Prifon. There's not a Shirt and a halfe in all my
Company: and the halfe Shirt is two Napkins tackt to-
gether, and throwne over the shoulders like a Heralds
Coat, without fleeces: and the Shirt, to ſay the truth,
ſolne from my Hoſt of S. Albones; or the Red-Nofe
Inne-keeper of Daventry. But that's all one, they'le finde
Linnen enough on every Hedge.

### Enter the Prince, and the Lord of Westmerland.

Prince. How now blowne Lacks ? how now Quilt?
Falstaff. What Hal? How now, mad Wag, what a Divell
do't thou in Warwick thire ? My good Lord of West-
merland, I cry you mercy, I thought your Honour had al-
ready beene at Shrewsbury.

West. 'Faith, Sir John,' it is more then time that I were
there, and you too: but my Powers are there alreadie
The King, I can tell you, lookes for us all: we must away
all to Night.

Falstaff. Tut, never feare me, I am as vigilant as a Cat, to
ſteale Creme.

Prince. I thinke to ſteale Creme indeed, for thy theft
hath alredie made thee Butter: but tell me Lacks, whoſe
fellowes are theſe that come after ?

Falstaff. Mine, Hal, mine.

Prince. I did never fee ſuch pittifull Rascals.

Falstaff. Tut, tut, good enough to toſe: foode for Pow-
der, foode for Powders: they'le fill a Pit, as well as better,
tuſh man, mortall men, mortall men.

Westerm. I, but Sir John, me thinkes they are exceeding
poore and bare, too beggarly.

Falstaff. Faith, for their poverty, I know not where they
had that; and for their bareneſſe, I am ſure they never
learn'd that of me.

Prince. No, Ile be ſworne, unleſſe you call three fingers
on the Ribbes bare. But firra make hafte. Percy is already
in the field.

Falstaff. What, is the King encamp'd ?
Westerm. Hee is, John, I feare wee shall fly too
long.

Falstaff. Well, to the latter end of a Fray, and the beginning of a Feaſt, fits a dull fighter, and a keene Gueſt.

Exeunt.

## Scæna Tertia.

### Enter Horſpur, Worcester, Dowglas, and Vernon.

Horſpur. Wee'le fight with him to Night.

Worc. It may not be.

Dowglas. You give him then aduantage.

Vern. Not a whit.

Horſpur. Why ſay you so ? looks he not for ſupply ?

Vern. So doe we.

Horſpur. His is certaine, ours is doubtfull.

Worc. Good Couſin be advis'd, flirre not to night.

Vern. Doe not, my Lord.

Dowglas. You doe not counſaile well:

You (peake it out of ſeare, and cold heart.

Vern. Doe me no flander, Dowglas: by my Life,
And I dare well mantaine it with my Life,
If well-refpected Honor bid me on,
I hold as little counſaile with weake ſeare,
As you, my Lord, or any Scot that this day lives.
Let it be ſeene to morrow in the Battell,
Which of us ſeares.

Dowglas. Yea, or to night.

Vern. Content.

Horſpur. To night, ſay I.

Vern. Come, come it may not be.

I wonder much, being me of ſuch great leading as you are
That you fore-fee not what impediments

Drag backe our expedition: certaine Horſe
Of my Couſin Vernons are not yet come up,
Your Uncle Worceſters Horſe came but to day,
And now their pride and mettall is afleepe,
Their courage with hard labour tame and dull,
That not a Horſe is halfe the halſe of himſelfe.

Horſpur. So are the Horſes of the Enemie
In generall, journey bated, and brought low:
The better part of ours are full of reſt.

f 3

Wor. The

Wore. The number of the King exceedeth ours :
For Gods sake, Coufin, fly till all come in.

The Trumpet sounds a Parley. Enter Sir Walter Blunt.

Blunt. I come with gracious offers from the King.
If you vouchsafe me hearing, and respect.

Hotfp. Welcome, Sir Walter Blunt.

And would to God you were of our determination.
Some of us love you well: and even that he fome
Envie your great defervings, and good name,
Because you are not of our qualitie,
But fland againft us like an enemie.

Blunt. And Heaven defend, but till I should fland fo,
Solong as out of Limit, and true Rule,
You fland againft anoynted Majeſtie.
But to my Charge.

The King hath ſent to know
The nature of your griefes, and whereupon
You conjure from the breſt of Civill Peace,
Such bold Hohilitie, teaching his dutious Land
Audacious Crueltie. If that the King
Have any way your good defarts forgot,
Which he confefſeth to bomanifold,
He bids you name your griefes; and with all ſpeed
You ſhall have your desires, with intereſt;
And Pardon abſolute for your ſelfe, and theſe,
Herein mis-led, by your ſuggelſion.

Hotſp. The king is kinde :

And well we know, the King
Knowes at what time to promife, when to pay.
My Eather, my Vnckle, and my ſelfe,
Did give him that fame Royaltie he weares :
And when he was not fixe and twentie ſtrong,
Sicke in the worlds regard, wretched and low,
A poore unminded Out-law, sneaking home,
My Father gave him welcome to the ſhore :
And when he heard him ſweare, and vow to God,
He came to be but Duke of Lancafter,
To ſuc his Liverie, and begge his Peace,
With teares of Innocencie, and tearmes of Zeale:
My Father, in kinde heart and pitty mov'd,
Swore him aſſistance, and perform'd it too.
Now, when the Lords and Barons of the Realme
Perceiv'd Northumberland did leane to him,
The more and leſſe came in with Cap and Knee,
Met him in Boroughs, Cities, Villages,
Attended him on Bridges, ſood in Lanes,
Layd Gifts before him, proffer'd him their Oathes,
Gave him their Heires, as Pages followed him,
Even at the heeles, in golden multitudes.
He prefently, as greatneſſe knowes it ſelfe,
Steps me a little higher then his Vow
Made to my Father, while his blood was poore,
Vpon the naked ſhore at Ravenſpurgh :
And now (for ſooth) takes on him to reforme
Some certaine Edictes, and ſome ſtrait Decrees,
That lay to heavie on the Common-wealth;
Cryes out upon abuſes, ſeemes to weepe
Over his Countries Wrongs: and by this Face,
This ſeeming Brow of Iuſtice, did he winne
The hearts of all that he did angle for.
Proceeded further, cut me off the Heads
Of all the Favorites, that the abſent King
In deputation left behinde him heere,

When he was perſonall in the Irifh Warre.
Blunt. Tut, I came not to heare this.

Hor. Then to the point.

In ſhort time after, he depos'd the King,
Soone after that, depriv'd him of his Life :
And in the neck of that, task't the whole State.
To make that worſe, ſuffer'd his Kinfman March,
Who is, if every Owner were plac'd,
Indeed his King, to be engag'd in Wales,
There, without ransome, to lye forfeited:
Difgrac'd me in my happy Victories,
Sought to intrap me by intelligence,
Rated my Vnckle from the Councell-Boord,
In rage diſmifs'd my Father from the Court,
Broke Oath on Oath, committing Wrong on Wrong,
And in conclusion, drove us to ſeeke out
This head of ſafetie; and withall, to prie
Into his Title: The which we ſinde
Too indirect, for long continuance.

Blunt. Shall I returne this anſwere to the King?

Hotſp. Not so, Sir Walter.

Wee'le with-draw a while:
Goe to the King, and let there be impawn'd
Some ſuretie for a ſafe returne againe,
And in the Morning early ſhall my Vnckle
Bring him our purpofe: and ſo farewell.

Blunt. I would you would accept of Grace and Love.

Hotſp. And may be, so we shall.

Blunt. Pray Heaven you doe.

Exeunt.

## Scena Quarta.

Enter the Arch-Bishop of Yorke, and Sir Michell.

Arch. Hie, good Sir Michell, beare this feale'd Briefe
With winged haſte to the Lord Marſhal,
This to my Couſin Scroope, and all the reſt
To whom they are directed.
If you knew how much they doe import,
You would make haſte.

Sir Mich. My good Lord, I gueſſe their tenor.

Arch. Like enough you do.

To morrow, good Sir Michell, is a day,
Wherein the fortune of ten thouſand men
Muſt bide the touch. For Sir, at Shrewsbury,
As I am truly given to understand,
The King, with mightie and quick-rayſed Power,
Meetes with Lord Harrie: and I ſeare, Sir Michell,
What with the fickneſſe of Northumberland,
Whoſe power was in the firſt proportion ;
And what with Owen Glendowers abſence thence,
Who with them was rated firmly too,
And comes not in, over-rul'd by Prophecies,
I ſeare the Power of Percy is too weake,
To wage an inſant tryall with the King.

Sir Mich. Why my good Lord, you need not ſeare,
There is Dowglas, and Lord Mortimer.

Arch. No, Mortimer is not there.

Sir Mic. But there is Mordake, Vernon, Lord Harry Percy,
And there is my Lord of Worcester,
And a Head of gallant Warriors,
Noble Gentlemen.

Arch. And

Arch. And so there is, but yet the King hath drawne
The speciall head of all the Land together :
The Prince of Wales, Lord John of Lancafter,
The Noble Westmerland, and warlike Blunt;
And many moe Corriuals, and deere men
Of eftimation, and command in Armes.

Sir M. Doubt not my Lord, he shall be well oppo'd.
Arch. I hope no leſſe: Yet needfull 'tis to ſteare,
And to prevent the worſt, Sir Michell ſpeed;
For if Lord Percy thrive not, ere the King
Diſmille his power, he means to viſit us;
For he hath heard our Confederacie,
And, 'tis but Wifedome to make ſtrong againſt him:
Therefore make haſte, I muſt goe write againe
To other Friends : and so farewell, Sir Michell. Exeunt.

Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.

Enter the King, Prince of Wales, Lord John of Lancaster,
Earle of Westmerland, Sir Walter Blunt,
and Falstaffe.

King. How bloodily the Sunne begins to peere
Above you buſky hill: the day lookes pale
At his diſ temperature.

Prin. The Southerne winde
Doth play the Trumpet to his purpofes,
And by his hollow whiffling in the Leaves,
Foretels a Tempeſt: and a bluſh'ring day.

King. Then with the loſers let it ſympathize,
For nothing can ſeeme ſoure to thofe that win.

The Trumpet sounds.

Enter Worcester.

King. How now my Lord of Worſter ? 'Tis not well
That you and I ſhould meet upon ſuch tearmes,
As now we meet. You have decei'd our truſt,
And made us doſſe our eafe Robes of P eace,
To cruſh our old limbes in ungentle Steele :
This is not well, my Lord, this is not well.
What ſay you to it ? Will you againe unknit
This churliſh knot of all-abhorred Warre?
And move in that obedient Orbe againe,
Where you did give a faire and naturall light,
And be no more an exhal'd Meteor,
A prodigie of Feare, and a Portent
Of broached Mifcheefe, to the unborne Times?

Wor. Heare me, my Liege :

For mine owne part, I could be well content
To entertaine the Lagge-end of my life
With quiet houres : For I do proteſt,
I have not fought the day of this diſlike.

King. You have not fought it: how comes it then?
Fal. Rebell ion lay in his way, and he found it.
Prin. Peace, Chewet, peace.
Wor. It pleas'd your Majefty, to turne your looks
Of Favour, from my ſelſe, and all our Houſe ;
And yet I muſt remember you my Lord,
We were the firſt, and deareſt of your Friends :

For you, my flaffe of Office did I breake
In Richards time, and poaſted day, and night
To meet you on the way, and kiffe your hand,

When yet you were in place, and in account
Nothing to ſtrong and fortunate, as I ;
It was my ſelſe, my Brother, and his Sonne,
That brought you home, and boldly did out-dare
The danger of the time. You ſwere to us,
And you did ſware that Oath at Doncafter,
That you did nothing of purpofe 'gainſt the State,
Nor claime no further, then your new-falne right,
The feate of Gaunt, Dukedome of Lancafter.

To this, we ſware our aide: But in ſhort ſpace,
It rain'd downe Fortune ſhowring on your head,
And ſuch a ſloud of Greatneſſe fell on you,
What with our helpe, what with the abſent King,
What with the injuries of wanton time,
The ſeeming ſufferances that you had borne,
And the contrarious Windes that held the King
So long in the unlucky Irifh Warres,

That all in England did repute him dead:
And from this ſwarne of faire advantages,
You tooke occafion to be quickly woo'd,
To gripe the generall ſway into your hand,
Forgot your Oath to us at Doncafter,
And being ſed by us, you us'd us ſo,
As that ungentle gull the Cuckowes Bird,
Vſeth the Sparrow, did oppreſſe our Neſt,
Grew by our Feeding, to ſo great a bulke,
That even our Love durſt not come neere your fight
For ſeare of ſwallowing: But with nimble wing

We were inſore'd for ſafetie ſake, to ſlye
Out of your fight, and raife this preſent Head,
Whereby we ſtand oppoſed by ſuch meaneſ
As you your ſelſe, have ſorg'd againſt your ſelſe,
By unkinde uſage, dangerous countenance,
And violation of all faith and troth
Sworn to us in yonger enterprize.

King. Theſe things inſide you have articulated,
Proclaime'dat Market Croſſes, read in Churches,
To face the Garment of Rebell ion

With ſome fine colour, that may pleafe the eye
Of ſick le Changelings, and poore Diſcontents,
Which gape, and rub the Elbow at the newes
Of hurly burly Innoation :

And never yet did InſurreCTION want
Such water-colours, to impair his cauſe :
Nor moody Beggars, ſtarving for a time
Of pell-mell hauocke, and conſuion.

Prin. In both our Armies, there is many a ſoule
Shall pay full dearely for this encounter,
If once they joyne in triall. Tell your Nephew,
The Prince of Wales doth joyne with all the world
In playſe of Henry Percy: By my Hopes,
This preſent enterprize fet off his head,
I do not thinke a braver Gentleman,
More aſtive, valiant, or more valiant young,

More daring, or more bold, is now alive,
To grace this latter Age with noble deedes.
For my part, I may ſpeake it to my ſhame,
I have a Truant beene to Chivalry,
And ſo I heare, he doth account me too:
Yet this before my Fathers Majefty,
I am content that he ſhall take the oddes
Of his great name and eſtimation,
And will, to ſave the blood on either ſide,
Try fortune with him, in a Single ſight.

King. And Prince of Wales, to dare we venter thee,
Albeit, considerations infinite

Do

Can lift your blood up with perfusion.
Enter a Muffenger.

Mef. My Lord, here are letters for you.
Hot. I cannot reade them now.

O Gentlemen, the time of life is short;

To spend that hortense safely, were too long.

If life did ride upon a Dials point,

Still ending at the arrivall of an hour,

And if we live, we live to tread on Kings:

If dye; brave death, when Princes dye with us.

Now for our Confciences, the Armes is faire,

When the intent for bearing them is jult.

Enter another Muffenger.

Mef. My Lord prepare, the King comes on apace,
Hot. I thanke him, that he cuts me from my tale:

For I proffesse not talking : Onely this,

Let each man do his beft. And here I draw a Sword,

Whole worthy temper I intend to flaine

With the beft blood that I can meete withall,

In the adventure of this perillous day.

Now Esperance Percy, and fet on :

Sound all the lofty Instruments of Warre,

And by that Muffeke, let us all imbrace :

For heaven to earth, fome of us never fhal,

A fecond time do fuch a curteſe.

They embrace, the Trumpets found, the King entereth
with his power, alarum unto the battell. Then enter
Dowglas, and Sir Walter Blunt.

Blu. What is thy name, that in battell thus ? croſſet me?

What honour doſt thou feeke upon my head ?

Dow. Know then my name is Dowglas,

And I do haunt thee in the battle thus,

Becaufe fome tell me, that thou art a King.

Blunt. They tell thee true.

Dow. The Lord of Stafford heere to day hath bought

Thy likeneſſe: for indeed of thee King Harry,

This ſword hath ended him, fo fhall it thee,

Vnleſſe thou yeeld thee as a Prifoner.

Blu. I was not borne to yeeld thou haughtie Scott,

And thou ſhalt finde a King that will revenge

Lord Stafford's death.

Fight, Blunt is flaine, then enters Horſur.

Hot. O Dowglas, had it thou fought at Holmedon thus,
I never had triumphed o're a Scot.

Dow. All's done, all's won, here breathles lies the King.

Hot. Where ?

Dow. Heere.

Hot. This Dowglas? No, I know this face full well :

A gallant Knight he was, his name was Blunt,

Semblably furnifh'd like the King himſelfe.

Dow. Ah foole : go with thy foule whither it goes,

A borrowed title haſt thou bought too deere.

Why did it thou tell me, that thou werta King ?

Hot. The King hath many marching in his Coates,

Dow. Now by my Sword, I will kill all his Coates,

Ile murther all his Wardrobe peecce by peecce,

Vntill I meet the King.

Hot. Vp, and away,

Our Souldiers stand full fairely for the day.

Exenut.

Alarum, and enter Falſtaffe ſolus.

Fal. Though I could ſcape ſhot-free at London, I feare
the ſhot heere : here's no ſcoring, but upon the pate. Soft
who art thou ? Sir Walter Blunt, there's Honour for you;
here's no vanity, I am as hot as molten Lead, and as hea-
uy too; heaven keepe Lead our out of me, I neede no more
weight then mine owne Bowelles. I have led my rag of

Muffins where they are pepper'd : there's not three of my
150, left alive, and they for the Townes end, to beg du-
ring life. But who comes here?

Enter the Prince.

Prin. What, stand it thou idle here? Lend me thy ſword,
Man, a Nobleman lies starke and fluffe

Under the hooves of vanting enemies,

Whole deaths are unreveſd. Prethy lend me thy ſword

Fal. O Hal, I prethee give me leave to breathe a while :

Turke Gregory never did ſuch deeds in Armes, as I have
done this day. I have paid Percie, I have made him ſure.

Prin. He is indeed, and living to kill thee

I prethee lend me thy ſword.

Falſt. Nay Hal, if Percy bee alive, thou getſt not my
Sword; but take my Piftoll if thou wilt.

Prin. Give it me : What, is it in the Cafe ?

Fal. I Hal, 'tis hot : There's that will Sacke a City.

The Prince draws out a Bottle of Sackg.

Prin. What, is it a time to jeſt and dally now?

Exit

Throwes it at him.

Fal. If Percy be alive. Ile pierce him : if he do come in
my way, fo: if he do not, if I come in his (willingly) let
him make a Carbonado of me, I like not ſuch grinning
honneur as Sir Walter hath : Give me life, which if I can
fave, fo : if not, honour comes unlook'd for, and ther's an
end.

Exit.

## Scena Tertia.

Alarum, excursions, enter the King, the Prince,
Lord John of Lancaster, and Earle
of Westmerland.

King. I prethee Harry withdraw thy ſelfe, thou bleedeſt too much : Lord John of Lancaster, go you with him.

P. lob. Not I, my Lord, unleſſe I did bleed too.

Prin. I beſeeth your Majety make up,

Leaſt you retirement do amaze your friends,

King. I will do fo :

My Lord of Westmerland leade him to his Tent.

Weſt. Come my Lord. Ile leade you to your Tent.

Prin. Leade me my Lord ? I do not need your helpe,

And heaven forbid a ſhallow ſcratch ſhould drive

The Prince of Wales from ſuch a field as this,

Where ſtain'd Nobility lyes troden on,

And Rebels Armes triumph in maffacres.

Iob. We breath too long : come confin Weſtmerland,
Our duty this way lies, for heavens ſake come.

Prin. By heaven thou haſt deccived me Lancaſter,
I did not thinke thee Lord of ſuch a ſpirit :

Before, I lov'd thee as a brother, John ;

But now, I do reſpect thee as my Soule.

King. I saw him hold Lord Percy at the point,
With luſtier maintenance then I did looke for

Of ſuch an ungrowne Warriour.

Prin. O this Boy, lends mettall to us all.

Exit.

Enter Dowglas.

Dow. Another King ? They grow like Hydra's heads :
I am the Dowglas fatall to all thofe.

That weare thofe colours on them. What art thou

That counterfeit it the perfon of a King ?

King. The King himſelfe: who Dowglas grieves at hart

So

72

So many of his shadowes thou haſt met,
And not the very King. I have two Boyes
Seeke Percy and thy ſelfe about the Field :
But seeing thou fall'ſt on me ſo luckily,
I will affay thee: ſo defend thy ſelfe.

Dow. I feare thou art another counteſt :  
And yet in faith thou bear'ſt thee like a King :  
But mine I am fire thou art, who ere thou be,
And thus I win thee. They fight, the K. being in danger,
Enter Prince.

Prin. Hold up thy head vile Scot, or thou art like
Never to hold it up againe : the Spirits
Of valiant Sherly, Stafford Blunt, are in my Armes ;
It is the Prince of Wales that threatens thee,
Who never promiſeth, but means to pay.

They Fight, Dowglas flyeth.

Cheerely My Lord : how fares your Grace ?
Sir Nicholas Gawſey hath for ſuccour ſent,
And ſo hath Clifton : Ile to Clifton ſtraight.

King. Stay, and breath awhile.

Thou haſt redeem'd thy left opinion,
And ſhew'd thou mak'ſt ſome tender of my life
In this faire refcue thou haſt brought to me.

Prin. O heaven, they did me too much injury,
That ever fayd I hearkn'd to your death.
If it were ſo, I might have let alone
The infulting hand of Dowglas over you,
Which would have beene as ſpeedy in your end,
As all the poyſonous Potions in the world,
And fav'd the Treacherous labour of your Sonne.

K. Make up to Clifton, Ile to Sir Nicholas Gawſey. Exit
Enter Hotſpurre.

Hot. If I miſtake not, thou art Harry Monmouth.

Prin. Thou ſpeak'st as if I would deny my name.

Hot. My name is Harry Percy.

Prin. Why then I fee a very valiant rebel of that name.
I am the Prince of Wales, and thinke not Percy,
To share with me in glory any more :
Two Starres keepe not their motion in one Sphere,
Nor can one England brooke a double reigne,
Of Harry Percie, and the Prince of Wales.

Hot. Nor ſhall it Harry, for the houre is come
To end the one of us ; and would to heaven,
Thy name in Armes, were now as great as mine.

Prin. Ile make it greater, ere I part from thee,
And all the budding Honors on thy Creſt,
Ile crop to make a Garland for my head.

Hot. I can no longer brooke thy Vanities. Fight.
Enter Falſaffe.

Fight.

Fal. Well faid Hal, to it Hal. Nay you ſhall finde no
Boyes play here, I can tell you.

Enter Dowglas, he fight with Falſaffe, who faſ down
as if he were dead. The Prince killeth Percie.

Hot. Oh Harry, thou haſt rob'd me of my youth :
I better brooke the loſſe of brittle life,
Then thate proud titles thou haſt wonne of me,
They wound my thoughts worſe, then the ſword my fleſh :
But thought's the ſlave of Life, and Life, Times ſoſe ;
And Time, that takes ſurvey of all the world,
Muſt have a ſtop. O, I could Propheſie,
But that the Earth, and the cold hand of death,
Lyes on my Tongue : No Percie, thou art duſt
And food for—

Prin. For Wormes, brave Percy. Farewell great heart:
Ill-weav'd Ambition, how much art thou ſhrunke ?
When that this bodie did containe a ſpirit,

A Kingdome for it was too ſmall a bound :
But now two paces of the vileſt Earth
Is room enough. This Earth that beares the dead,
Beares not alive ſo ſtout a Gentleman.
If thou wer't ſenſible of curſeſe,
I should not make ſo great a ſhew of Zeale.
But let my favours hide thy mangled face,
And even in thy behalſe, Ile thank my ſelfe
For doing theſe ſayre Rites of Tenderneſſe.
Adieu, and take thy prayſe with thee to heaven,
Thy ignominy ſeepe with thee in the grave,
But not remembred in thy Epitaph.

What? Old Acquaintance? Could not all this ſeſſ
Keepe in a little life? Poore Iacke, farewell :
I could have better ſpar'd a better man.

O, I ſhould have a heavy miſſe of thee,
If I were much in love with Vanitie.
Death hath not ſtrucke ſo fat a Deser to day,
Though many dearer in this bloody ſray :
Imbowll'd will I fee thee by and by,

Till then, in blood, by Noble Percit lye,

Fallſaffe ſeeth up.

Exit.

Falſa. Imbowll'd? If thou imbowll mee to day, Ile
give you leave to powder me, and eat me too to morrow.
I was time to counterſet, or that hotte Termagant Scot,
had paid me ſcot and lot too. Counterſeit? I am no counterſeit; to dye, is to be a counterſeit, for hee is, but the
counterſeit of a man, who hath not the life of a man: But to counterſeit dying, when a man thereby liveth, is to be no counterſeit, but the true and perfect image of life in-deede. The better part of Valour, is Difcretion ; in the
which better part, I have faſed my life. I am affraide of
this Gun-powder Percy though he be dead. How if hee
hould counterſeit too, and rife? I am afraid hee would
prove the better counterſeit; therefore Ile make him fire:
yea, and I ſweare I kill'd him. Why may not he rife as
well as I ? Nothing confutes me but eyes, and no-bodie
fees me. Therefore firra, with a new wound in your thigh
come you along me. Takes Hotſpurre on his backe,
Enter Prince and Iohn of Lancaſter.

Prin. Come Brother Iohn, full bravely haſt thou fleſt
thy Maiden ſword.

Iohn. But ſoft, who have we here ?
Did you not tell me this fat man was dead?

Prin. I did, I ſaw him dead,
Breathleſſe, and bleeding on the ground : Art thou alive?
Or is it ſantaſe that playes upon our eyeſight ?
I prethee ſpeake, we will not truſt our eyes
Without our eares. Thou art not what thou seem'ſt.

Fal. No, that's certaine : I am not a double man : but
if I am not Iacke Falſaffe, then am I Iacke: There is Per-
cy, if your Father will do me any Honor, ſo: if not, let him
kill the next Percy himſelfe. I looke to be either Earle or
Duke, I can affure you.

Prin. Why, Percy I kill'd my ſelfe, and ſaw thee dead.

Fal. Did it thou? Lord, Lord, how the world is given
to Lying? I graunt you I was downe, and out of Breath,
and ſo was he, but we roſe both at an inſant, and fought
along houre by Shrewsburie clocke, If I may be belee-
ved, to : if not, let them that ſhould reward Valour, beare
the ſinne upon their owne heads. Ile take't on my death
I gave him this wound in the Thigh : if the man were a-
live, and would denie it, I would make him eate a peec
of my ſword.

Iohn. This is the ſtrangeſt tale that e're I heard.

Prin. This is the ſtrangeſt Fellow, Brother Iohn.

Come

74

# The Second Part of Henry the Fourth,
Containing his Death: and the Coronation
of King Henry the Fifth.

Actus Primus. Scena Prima.

## INDUCTION.

### Enter Rumor.

Pen your Eares: For which of you will stop
The vent of Hearing, when loud Rumor speaks?
From the Orient, to the drooping West
(Making the wind my Pift-horfe) still unfold
The Acts commenced on this Ball of Earth.
Vpon my Tongue, continnall Slanders ride,
The which, in every Language, I pronounce,
Stuffing the eares of them with falfe Reports:
I speake of Peace, while covert Enmitie
(Under the smile of safety) wounds the World;
And who but Rumour, who but onely I
Make fearefull Mufters, and prepar'd Defence,
Whilft the bigge yeare, (wolne with fome other griefes,
Is thought with childe, by the fterne Tyrant Warre;
And no fuch matter? Rumour, is a Pipe
Blowne by Surmife, Ieloufies Conjectures;
And of fo eafie, and fo plaine a stop,
That the blunt Monſter, with uncounted heads,
The fill diffordant, wavering Multitude,
Can play upon it. But what neede I thus
My well-knowne Body to Anathomize
Among my houſhold? Why is Rumour heere?
I run before King Harries victory,
Who in a bloodie field by Shrewsburie
Hath beaten downe young Hotſpure, and his Troopes,
Quenching the flame of bold rebellion,
Even with the Rebels blood. But what meane I
To speake of truth at firſt? My Office is
To noyſe abroad, that Harry Monmouth ſell
Vnder the Wrath of Noble Hotſpure's Sword:
And that the King, before the Dowglas Rage
Stoop'd his Annointed head, as low as death.
This have I rumor'd through the peafant-Townes,
Betweene the Royall Field of Shrewsburie,
And this Worme-eaten-Hole of ragged Stone,
Where Hotſpure's Father, old Northumberland,
Lyes crafty ficke. The Poſtes come tyring on,
And not a man of them brings other newes
Then they have learn'd of Me. From Rumours Tongues,
They bring ſmooth-Comforts. falſe, worſe then Truc-
wrongs.

Exit.

## Scena Secunda.

Enter Lord Bardolfe, and the Porter.
L. Bar. Who keepes the Gate hoa?
Where is the Earle?
Pro. What shall I say you are ?
Bar. Tell thou the Earle
That the Lord Bardolfe doth attend him heere.
Por. His Lordship is walk'd forth into the Orchard,
Pleafe it your Honor, knocke but at the Gate,
And he himselfe will anſwer.

Enter Northumberland.
L. Bar. Heere comes the Earle.
Nor. What newes Lord Bardolfe? Ev'ry minute now
Should be the Father of ſome Stratagem;
The Times are wilde: Contention (like a Horſe
Full of high Feeding) madly hath broke loofe,
And beares downe all before him.
L. Bar. Noble Earle,
I bring you certaine newes from Shrewsbury.
Nor. Good, and heaven will.
L. Bar. As good as heart can wifh:
The King is almost wounded to the death:
And in the Fortune of my Lord your Sonne,
Prince Harrie flaine outright: and both the Blunts
Kill'd by the hand of Dowglas. Young Prince John,
And Westmerland, and Stafford, fled the Field.
And Harrie Monmouth's Brawne (the Hulke Sir John)
Is prifoner to your Sonne. O, ſuch a Day.
(So fought, ſo follow'd, and ſo fairly wonne)
Came not, till now, to dignify the Times,
Since Cafars Fortunes.
Nor. How is this deriv'd?
Saw you the Field? Came you from Shrewsbury?
L. Bar. I ſpake with one (my L.) that came from thence,
A Gentleman well bred, and of good name,
That freely render'd me theſe newes for true.
Nor. Heere comes my Servant Travers, whom I ſent
On Tuesday laſt, to liften after Newes.

Enter Travers.
L. Bar. My Lord, I over-rode him on the way,
And he is furniſh'd with no certainties,
More then he (haply) may retaile from me.
Nor. Now Travers, what good tidings comes from you?

The second Part of King Henry the Fourth.

Tra. My Lord, John Umfrensil turn'd me backe
With joyfull tydings;and (being better hors'd)
Out-rod me. After him, came spurring hard
A Gentleman(al moft fore-lpent with fpeed)
That flopp'd by me,to breath his bloodied horfe,
Heask'd the way to Chefter: And of him
I did demand what Newes from Shrewsbury:
He told me, that Rebellion had ill lucke,
And that yong Harry Percies Spurre was cold,
With that he gave his able Horfe the head,
And bending forwards flooke his able heeles
Againft the panting fides of his poore Iade
Up to the Rowell head, and flarting fo,
Hee seem'd in running,to devoure the way,
Staying no longer quelltion.

North. Ha? Againe:

Said he yong Harry Percies Spurre was cold?
(Of Hot-Spurre,cold-Spurre) that Rebellion,
Had met ill lucke?

L. Bar. My Lord: Ile tell you what,
If my yong Lord your Sonne, have not the day,
Vpon mine Honor, for a filken point
Ile give my Barony. Never talke of it.

Ner. Why should the Gentleman that rode by Travers
Givethen fuch infances of Loffe?

L. Bar. Who, he?

He was ſome hielding Fellow, that had ſolne

The Horfe he rode-on: and upon my life

Spake at adventure. Looke, here comes more Newes.

Enter Morton.

Ner. Yea, this mans brow, like to a Title-leafe,
Fore-tels the Nature of a Tragicke Volume:
So lookes the Strond, when the Imperious Flood
Hath leſt a witneſt Vſurpation.

Say Morton, did't thou come from Srewsbury?

Mor. I ran from Shrewsbury (my Noble Lord)
Where hatefull death put on his vglieſt Maske
To fright our party.

Nor. How doth my Sonne, and Brother?
Thou trembl't; and the whiteneſſe in thy Checke
Is apter then thy Tongue, to tell thy Errand.
Even ſuch a man, ſo faint, ſo ſpiritleſſe,
So dull, ſo dead in looke, ſo woe-be-gone,
Dull Priams Curtaine, in the dead of night,
And would have told him, Halfe his Troy was burn'd.
But Priams found the Fire, ere he his Tongue:
And I, my Percies death, ere thou report't ſit.
This, thou would't ſay: Your Sonne did thus, and thus;
Your Brother, thus. So fought the Noble Dowglas,
Stopping my greedy eare, with their bold deeds.
But in the end (to flop mine Eare indeed)
Thou haſt a Sigh, to blow away this Praife,
Ending with Brother, Sonne, and all are dead.

Mor. Dowglas is living, and your Brother, yet:
But for my Lord, your Sonne.

No. Why he is dead.

See what a ready tongue Sufpition hath;
He that but feares the thing, he would not know,
Hath by Inſtinct, knowledge from others Eyes,
That what he feard, is chanc'd. Yet ſpeake (Morton)
Tell thou thy Earle, his Divination Lies,
And I will take it, as a fweet Diſgrace,
And make thee rich, for doing me ſuch wrong.

Mor. You are too great, to be (by me) gainſaid:

Your Spirit is too true, your Feares too certaine.

Ner. Yet for all this, ſay not that Percies dead.
I fee a ſtrange Confeilion in thine Eye:

Thou ſhak'it thy head, and hold'it Feare, or Sinne,
To ſpeake a truth. If he be ſaine, ſay fo:
The Tongue offends not, that reports his death:
And he doth finne that both bely the dead:

Not he, which ſayes the dead is not alive:
Yet the firſt bringer of unwelcome Newes
Hath but a loofing Oſſice; and his Tongue,
Sounds ever after as a ſullen Bell

Remembred, knolling a departing Friend.

L. Bar. I cannot thinke (my Lord) your ſon is dead.

Mor. I am forry, I should force you to believe
That, which I would to heaven, I had not feene.
But theſe mine eyes, ſaw him in bloody ſtate,
Rend'ring taint quittance (wearied, and out-breath'd)
To Henry Monmouth, whoſe ſwift wrath beate downe
The never-daunted Percie to the earth,

From whence (with life) he never more ſprung up.
In few; his death (whoſe ſpiriſt lent a fire,
Even to the dulleſt Peazant in his Campe)

Being bruited once, took e fire and heate away
From the beſt temper'd Courage in his Troopes.

For from his Mettle, was his Party ſeel'd;

Which once in him abated, all the reſt
Turn'd on themſelves, like dull and heavy Lead:

And as the Thing, that's heavy in it ſelſe,

Vpon enforcement, flyes with greateſt ſpeede,
So did our Men, heavy in Hot ſpurres loffe,

Lend to this weight, ſuch lightneſſe with their Feare,
That Arrows fled not ſwifter toward their ayme,
Then did our Soldiers (ayming at their safety)

Fly from the field. Then was that Noble Worceſter
Too ſoon ta'nè prifoner : and that ſurious Scour,
(The bloody Dowglas ) whoſe well-labouring ſword
Had three times ſaine th'appearance of the King,

Gan vaile his ſtomacke, and did grace the ſhame
Of thofe that turn'd their backes; and in his flight,
Stumbling in Feare, was tooke. The ſumme of all,

Is, that the King hath wonne; and hath ſent out
A ſpeedy power, to encounter you my Lord,

Under the Conduct of yong Lancafter
And Weſtmerland. This is the Newes at full.

Nor. For this, I ſhall have time enough to mourne:
In Poyſon, there is Phyſicke; and this newes
(Having beene well) that would have made me ſicke,
Being ſicke, have in ſome meaſure, made me well.
And as the Wretch, whoſe Feaver-weakned joynſ,
Like ſtrengthleſſe Hindges, buckle under life,
Impatient of his Fit, breaks like a ſire
Out of his keepers armes: Even ſo, my Limbes

(Weak'n'd with greeſe) being now inrag'd with greeſe,
Are thrice themſelues. Hence therfore thou nice crutch,
A ſcaly Gauntlet now, with joynſ of Steele
Muff glove this hand. And hence thou ſickly Quoife,
Thou art a guard too wanton for the head,
Which Princes, fleſh'd with Conqueſt,dyme to hit.
Now binde my Browes with Iron, and approach

The ragged ſt houre, that Time and Spight dare bring
To ſrowne upon th'enrag'd Northumberland.
Let Heaven kiffe Earth: now let not Natures hand
Keepe the wilde Flood confin'd: Let Order dye,
And let the world no longer be a ſtage

To feede Contention in a ling'ring Act:
But let one ſpirit of the Firſt-borne Caine

g

Reigne

76

Reigne in all bofomes, that each heart being fet
On bloody Courfes, the rude Scene may end,
And darkenefse be the burier of the dead. (Honor.

L. Bar. Sweet Earle, divorce not wifedom from your
Mor. The lives of all your loving Complices
Leane-on your health, the which if you give-o're
To ftrormy Paffion, muft perſence decay.
You caſt th'event of Warre (my Noble Lord)
And ſumm'd the accompt of Chance, before you ſaid
Let us make head: It was your prefuſmize,
That in the dole of blowes, your Son might drop.
You knew he walk'd o're perils, on an edge
More likely to fall in, then to get o're:

You were advis'd his ſiſh was capeable
Of Wounds, and ſcarres; and that his forward Spirit
Would lift him, where moſt trade of danger rang'd,
Yet did you ſay go forth: and none of this
(Though ſtrongly apprehended) could reſtraine
The ſtiffe-borne Action: What hath then befalne?
Or what hath this bold enterprize brought forth,
More then that Being, which was like to be?

L. Bar. We all that are engaged to this Iſſe,
Knew that we ventur'd on ſuch dangerous Seas,
That if we wrought our life, was ten to one:
And yet we ventur'd for the gaine propos'd,
Choak'd the reſpeſt of likely perill fear'd,
And ſince we are o're-ſet, venture againe.
Come, we will all put forth; Body, and Goods.
Mor. 'Tis more then time: And (my moſt Noble Lord)
I heare for certaine, and do ſpeak the truth:
The gentle Arch-biſhop of Yorke is up
With well appointed Powres: he is a man
Who with a double Surety bindes his Followers.
My Lord (your Sonne) had onely but the Corpes
But ſhadowes, and the ſhewes of men to fight.
For that fame word (Rebell ion) did divide
The action of their bodies, from their ſoules,
And they did fight with queaſineſſe, conſtrain'd
As men drinke Potions; that their Weapons only
Seem'd on our ſide: but for their Spirits and Soules,
This word (Rebell ion) it had froze them up,
As Fiſh are in a Pond. But now the Biſhop
Turnes Inſurre ction to Religion,
Suppos'd ſincere, and holy in his Thoughts:
He's follow'd both with Body, and with Minde:
And doth enlarge his Rıſing, with the blood
Of faire King Pſchard, ſcrap'd from Pomfret ſtones,
Derives from heaven his Quarrell, and his Caufe:
Tels them, he doth beſtride a bleeding Land,
Gaſping for life, under great Bullingbrooke,
And more, and leſſe, do ſlocke to follow him.

North. I knew of this before. But to ſpeak the truth,
This preſent greſe had wip'd it from my minde.
Go in with me, and councell every man
The apteſt way for safety, and revenge:
Get Poſts, and Letters, and make Friends with ſpeed,
Never ſo few, nor never yet more need.
Exeunt.

Scæna Tertia.

Enter Falſaffe, and Page.

Fal. Sir, you giant, what faies the Doct, to my water?
Pag. He ſaid fir, the water it ſelfe was a good healthy
water: but for the party that ow'd it, he might have more
difeafes then he knew for.

Fal. Men of all forts take a pride to gird at mee: the

braine of this fooliſh compounded Clay-man, is not able
to invent any thing that tends to laughter, more then I
invent, or is invented on me. I am not onely witty in my
ſelfe, but the caufe that wit is in other men. I doe here
walke before thee, like a Sow, that hath o'rewhelme'd all
her Litter, but one. If the Prince put thee into my Se-
vice for any other reafon, then to ſet me off, why then I
have no judgement. Thou horſon Mandrake, thou art
fitter to be worne in my cap, then to wait at my heele.
I was never mann'd with an Agot till now: but I will ſet
you neither in Gold, nor Silver, but in vilde apparell, and
fend you backe againe to your Maifter, for a Jewell. The
Iuuenall (the Prince your Maifter) whoſe Chin is not yet
ſledg'd, I will fooner have a beard. grow in the Palme of
my hand, then he ſhall get one on his cheeke: yet he will
not ſticke to ſay, his Face is a Face-Royall. Heaven may
ſinifh it when he will, it is not a haire amiffe yet: the
keefe it ſtill as a Face-Royall, for a Barber ſhall never
carne fix pence out of it; and yet he will be crowing, as if
he had writ man ever ſince his Father was a Batchellour.
He may keefe his owne Grace, but hee is almoſt out of
mine, I can aſſure him. What ſaid M. Dombledon, about
the Satten for ſhort Cloake, and Slops?

Pag. He ſaid fir, you ſhould procure him better Affi-
rance, then Bardolſe: he would not take his Bond & yours
he lik'd not the Security.

Fal. Let him bee damn'd like the Glutton, may his
Tongue bee hotter, a horſon Architophel, a Raſcally-yes-
forfooth-knave, to beare a Gentleman in hand, and then
ſtand upon Security ? The horſon ſmooth-pates do now
weare nothing but high ſhooes, and bunches of keyes at
their girdles: and if a man is through with them in ho-
neſt Taking-up, then they muſt ſtand upon Security: I
had as lieſe they would put Rats-bane in my mouth, as
offer ſtoppe it with Security. I look'd he ſhould have
ſent me two and twenty yards of Satten (as I am true
Knight) and he ſends me Security. Well, he may ſleep in
Security, for he hath the horne of Abundance: and the
lightneſſe of his Wife ſhines through it, and yet cannot
he fee, though he have his owne Lanthorne to light him.
Where's Bardolſe?

Pag. He's gone into Smithfield to buy your worſhip
a horſe.

Fal. I bought him in Paules, and hee I buy mee a horſe
in Smithfield. If I could get mee a wife in the Stewes,
I were Mann'd, Hors'd, and Wiv'd.

Enter Chieſe Inſtice, and Servant.

Pag. Sir, heere comes the Nobleman that committed
the Prince for ſtriking him, about Bardolſe.

Fal. Wait cloſe, I will not fee him.

Ch. Inſt. What's he that goes there?

Ser. Falſaffe, and't pleafe your Lordship.

Inſt. He that was in queſtion for the Robbers?

Ser. He my Lord, but he hath ſince done good ſervice
at Shrewsbury: and (as I heare) is now going with home
Charge, to the Lord John of Lancaſter.

Inſt. What to Yorke? Call him backe againe.

Ser. Sir John Falſaffe.

Fal. Boy, tell him, I am deafe.

Pag. You muſt ſpeak lowder, my Maifter is deafe.

Inſt. I am ſure he is, to the hearing of any thing good.

Go plucke him by the Elbow, I muſt ſpeak with him.
Ser. Sir John.

Fal. What'a yong knave and beg? Is there not warſis
there not employment? Doth not the K-Jack ſubjects do
not the Rebels want Soldiers? Though it be a ſhame to be
on

["The third Part of King Henry the Sixt.", "163", "How could he fly till Warwicke made returne ?\nSam. My Lords, forbeare this talke : here comes the\nKing.", "Flourisſo.", "Enter King Edward, Lady Grey, Pembrooke, Staſ-\nford, Hastings: fourſt stand on one ſide,\nand fourſe on the other.", "Rich. And his well-choſen Bride.", "Clar. I mind to tell him plainly what I thinke.", "King. Now brother of Clarence,", "How like you our Choyce,", "That you ſtand penſive, as halſe malecontent ?", "Clar. As well as Lewis of France,", "Or the Earle of Warwicke,", "Which are to weake of courage, and in judgement,", "That they'le take no offence at our abufe.", "King. Suppofe they take offence without a cauſe :", "They are but Lewis and Warwicke, I am Edward,", "Your King and Warwicke, and muſt have my will.", "Rich. And ſhall have your will, becauſe our King :", "Yet haſtly Marriage ſeldome pethовell.", "King. Yes Brother Richard, are you offendeſd too ?", "Rich. Not I : no :", "God forbid, that I ſhould with them fever'd,", "Whom God hath Joyn'd together :", "I, and 'twere pitty, to ſunder them,", "That yoake ſo well together.", "King. Setting your skornes, and your miſlike afide,", "Tell me home reaſon, why the Lady Grey", "Should not become my Wife, and Englands Queene ?", "And you too, Somerſet and Mountague,", "Speake freely what you thinke.", "Clar. Then this is mine opinion :", "That King Lewis becomes your Enemу,", "For mocking him about the Marriage", "Of the Lady Bona.", "Rich. And Warwicke, doing what you gave in charge,\nIs now dis-honored by this New Marriage.", "King, What, if both Lewis and Warwicke be appeaſ'd,", "By ſuch invention as I can devile ?", "Mount. Yet, to have joyn'd with France in ſuch alliaſce,\nWould more have strengtн'd this our Commonwealth\n'Gainſt forraine ſormes, then any home-bred Marriage.", "Haſt. Why, knowes not Mountague, that of it ſelfe,\nEngland is ſafe, if true within it ſelfe ?", "Mount. Yes, but the ſaſer, when'tis back'd with France,", "Haſt. 'Tis better uſing France, then truſting France ;", "Let us be back'd with God, and with the Seas,", "Which he hath giv'n for ſence impregnable,", "And with their helps, only defend our ſelves :", "In them, and in our ſelves, our ſafetу lies.", "Clar. For this one ſpeech, Lord Hastings well deferves\nTo have the Heire of the Lord Hungerſord.", "King. I, what of that ? it was my will, and graunt,", "And for this once, my Will ſhall ſland for Law.", "Rich. And yet me thinks, your Grace hath not done well\nTo give the Heire and Daughter of Lord Stales", "Vnto the Brother of your loving Bride ;", "She better would have fitted me, or Clarence :", "But in your Bride you bury Brotherhood.", "Clar. Or eſſe you would not have beſtow'd the Heire\nOf the Lord Bonvill on your new Wives Sonne.", "And leave your Brothers to goe ſpeede eſſewhere.", "King. Alas, poore Clarence: is it for a Wife", "That thouart malecontent ? I will provide thee.", "Clar. In chufing for your ſelfe,", "You ſhew'd your judgement :", "Which being ſhallow, you ſhall give me leave;", "To play the Broker in mine owne behalſe;", "And to that end, I ſhorthy mind to leave you.", "King. Leave me, or tarry, Edward will be King.", "And not be ty'd unto his Brothers will.", "Lady Grey. My Lords, before it pleas'd his Majefty\nTo raile my State to Title of a Queene,", "Doe me but tarry, and you muſt all confefſe,", "That I wasnot ignoble of Deſcent,", "And meaner then my ſelfe have had like fortune.", "But as this Title honors me and mine,", "So your diſlikes, to whom I would be pleasing,", "Doth cloud my joyes with danger, and with ſorrow.", "King. My Love, forbeare to fawne upon their frowneſt:\nWhat danger, or what ſorrow can befall thee,", "So long as Edward is thy conſtant friend,", "And their true Soveraigne, whom they muſt obey?", "Nay, whom they ſhall obey, and love thee too,", "Vnleſſe they feeke for hatred at my hands :", "Which if they doe, yet will I keepe thee ſafe,", "And they ſhall feele the vengeance of my wrath.", "Rich. I heare, yet ſay not much, but thinke the more.", "Enter a Poſſe.", "King. Now Meſtenger, what Letters, or what Newes\nfrom France?", "Prſſ. My Soveraigne Liege, no Letters, and ſew words,\nBut ſuch, as I (without your ſpeciall pardon)", "Dare not relate.", "King. Goe too, we pardon thee :", "Therefore, in briefe, tell their words,", "As neere as thou canſt gueſſe them.", "What anſwer makes King Lewis, unto our Letters ?", "Poſſ. At my depart, theſe were his very words :", "Goe tell ſaſſe Edward, the Iuppofed King,", "That Lewis of France is ſending over Maskers,", "To revell it with him, and his new Bride.", "King. Is Lewis ſo brave ? belike he thinkes me Henry?", "But what ſaid Lady Bona to my Marriage ?", "Poſſ. Theſe were her words, ur'tred with mild diſdaine:", "Tell him, in hope he'll prove a Widower ſhordly,", "He weare the Willow Garland for his ſake.", "King. I blame not her, ſhe could ſay little ſeſſe :", "She had the wrong. But what ſaid Henriſes Queene ?", "For I heard, that ſhe was there in place.", "Poſſ. Tell him (quoth ſhe)", "My mourning Weedes are done,", "And I am ready to put Armour on.", "King. Belike the minds to play the Amazon.", "But what ſaid Warwicke to theſe injuries?", "Poſſ. He, more incens'd againſt your Majefty,", "Then all the reſt, diſcharg'd me with theſe words :", "Tell him from me, that he hath done me wrong,", "And therefore Ile uncrowne him, er't belong.", "Kin. Ha? durſt the Traytor breath out ſo pow'd words?", "Well, I will arme me, being thus fore-warn'd :", "They ſhall have Warres, and pay for their preſumption.", "But ſay, is Warwicke friends with Margaret ?", "Poſſ. I, gracious Soveraigne,", "They are ſo link'd in friendſhig,", "That yong Prince Edwards marryes W̄nwicke Daughter.", "Clar. Belike, the elder ;", "Clarence will have the yonger.", {"bbox": [642, 1314, 668, 1327], "category": "Page-footer

Now Brother King farewell, and fit you faft,
For I will hence to Warwickes other Daughter,
That though I want a Kingdome, yet in Marriage
I may not prove inferior to your felfe.
You that love me, and Warwicke, follow me.
Exit Clarence, and Somerſet followes.

Rich. Not I :

My thoughts ayme at a further matter :
Ifay not for the love of Edward, but the Crowne.

King. Clarence and Somerſet both gone to Warwicke?
Yet am I arm'd againſt the worſt can happen :
And haſte is needfull in this deſp'rate cafe.
Pembrooke and Stafford, you in our behalſe
Goe levy men, and make prepare for Warre :
They are already, or quickly will be landed:
My ſelfe in perſon will ſtraight follow you. ?

Exeunt Pembrooke, and Stafford.

But ere I goe, Haffings and Mountague
Reſolve my doubt: you twaine, of all the reſt,
Are neere to Warwicke, by bloud, and by allyance :
Tell me, if you love Warwicke more then me ;
If it be ſo, then both depart to him :
I rather wifh you foes, then hollow friends.
But if you minde to hold your true obedience,
Give me affurranee with ſome friendly Vow,
That I may never have you in ſuſpect.

Mount. So God helpe Mountague, as he proves
true.

Haff. And Haffings, as he favours Edwards caufe.

King. Now, brother Richeard, will you ſtand by us?

Rich. I, in deſpight of all that ſhall withstand you.

King. Why ſo : then am I ſure of Victory.

Now therefore let us hence, and loſe no howre,
Till we meet Warwicke, with his forraine powre.

Exeunt.

Enter Warwicke, and Oxford in England,
with French Souldiers.

Warm. Truſt me, my Lord, all hitherto goes well,
The common people by numbers ſwarme to us.

Enter Clarence, and Somerſet.

But fee where Somerſet and Clavene comes :

Speake ſuddenly, my Lords, are wee all friends ?

Clar. Feare not that, my Lord.

Warm. Then gentle Clarence, welcome into Warwicke,
And welcome Somerſet : I hold it cowardize,
To reſt miſtruſtfull, where a Noble Heart
Hath pawn'd an open Hand, in ſigne of Love :

Elle might I thinke, that Clarence, Edwards brother,
Were but a ſained friend to our proceedings :

But welcome free Clavene, my daughter, ſhall be thine.

And now, what reſts? but in Nights Coverture,

Thy Brother being careleſſely encamp'd,

His ſouldiers lurking in the Towne about,

And but attended by a ſimple Guard,

We may ſurprize and take him at our pleafure,
Our ſcants have found the adventure very caſe :

That as Vlyſſes, and ſlout Diomede,

With ſleight and manhood ſtole to Rheſus Tents,
And brought from thence the Thracian fatall Steeds ;

So we, well cover'd with the Nights blacke Mantle,

At unawares may beat downe Edwards Guard,
And ſeize himſelfe : I fay not, ſlaughter him,

For I intend but onely to ſurprize him.

You that will follow me to this attempt,

Applaud the Name of Henry, with your Leader.
They all cry, Henry.

Why then, let's on our way in filent ſort,

For Warwicke and his friends, God and Saint George.

Exeunt.

Enter three Watchmen to guard the Kings Tent.

I. Watch. Come on my Maſters, each man take his ſtand,
The King by this, is ſet him downe to ſcepe.
2. Watch. What, will he not to Bed ?

1. Watch. Why, no: for he hath made a ſolemne Vow,
Never to lye and take his naturall Reſt,

Till Warwicke, or himſelfe, be quite ſuppreſt.
2. Watch. To morrow then belike ſhall be the day,
If Warwicke be ſo neere as men report.

3. Watch. But ſay, I pray, what Noble man is that,
That with the King here reſſeth in his Tent ?

1. Watch. 'Tis the Lord Haffings, the Kings chieſt
friend.

3. Watch. O, is it ſo ? but why commands the King,
That his chieſe followers lodge in Townes about him,
While he himſelfe keepes in the cold ſield ?

2. Watch. 'Tis the more honour, becauſe more dangerous.

3. Watch. I, but give me worſhip, and quietneſſe,
I like it better then a dangerous honor.

If Warwicke knew in what eſtate he ſtands,
'Tis to be doubted he would waken him.

1. Watch. Vnleſſe our Halberds did ſhut up his paſſage.

2. Watch. I : wherefore eſſe guard we his Royall Tent,
But to defend his Perſon from Night-foes ?

Enter Warwicke, Clarence, Oxford, Somerſet,
and French ſouldiers ſilent all.

War. This is his Tent, and fee where ſtand his Guard:
Courage my Maſters : Honor now, or never :
But follow me, and Edward shall be ours.

1. Watch. Who goes there ?

2. Watch. Stay, or thou dyſt.

Warwick and the rest cry all, Warwicke, Warwicke, and
ſet upon the Guard, who flye, crying, Arme, Ame,
Warwick and the rest following them.

The Drumme playing, and Trumpet founding.

Enter Warwicke, Somerſet, and the rest, bringing the King
out in his Gervne, fitting in a Chaire : Richeard
and Haffings flyes over the Stage.

Som. What are they that flye there ?

Warm. Richard and Haffings, let them goe, heere is
the Duke.

King Edw. The Duke ?

Why Warwicke, when we parted,
Thou call'dt me King.

Warm. I, but the cafe is alter'd.

When you diſgrace'd me in my Embaffade,
Then I degraded you from being King,
And come now to create you Duke of Torke.

Alas, how ſhould you governe any Kingdome,
That know not how to uſe Embaffadors,
Nor how to be contented with one Wife,
Nor how to uſe your Brothers brotherly,
Nor how to ſudy for the Peoples Welfare,
Nor how to ſhrowd your ſelfe from Enemies ?

King Edw.

The third Part of King Henry the Sixth.

K. Edw. Yea, Brother of Clarence,
Art thou here too?
Nay then I see, that Edward needs muſt downe:
Yet Warwickes, in despight of all miſchance,
Of thee thy ſelfe, and all thy Complices,
Edward will alwayes beare himſelfe as King:
Though Fortunes mallice over throw my State,
My minde exceeds the compaſſe of her Wheele.
War. Then for his mind, be Edward Englands King.

## Takes off his Crowne.

But Henry now ſhall weare the English Crowne,
And be true King indeed: thou but the shadow:
My Lord of Somerset, at my requeſt,
Seeth that forthwith Duke Edward be convey'd
Vnto my Brother Arch-Biſhop of Torke:
When I have fought with Pembrooke, and his fellowes,
Ile follow you, and tell what anſwer
Lewis and the Lady Bona ſend to him.
Now for a while farewell good Duke of Torke.

## They leads him out forcibly.

K. Ed. What Fates impoſe, that men muſt needs abide:
It boots not to refiſt both wind and tide.
Exeunt.

Oſt. What now remains my Lords for us to doe,
But march to London with our ſouldiers?

War. I, that's the firſt thing that we have to doe,
To free King Henry from imprisonment,
And fee him ſeated in the Regall THRONE.

Exit.

## Enter Rivers, and Lady Gray.

Riv. Madam: what makes you in this ſodain change?

Gray. Why Brother *Rivers*, are you yet to leane
What late misfortune is beſalne King *Edward*?

Riv. What, loſſe of ſome pitcht battell
Against Warwicke?

Gray. No, but the loſſe of his owne Royall perſons.

Riv. Then is my Soveraigne ſaine ?

Gray. I almoſt ſaine, for he is taken prifoner,
Either betrayed by falſhood of his Guard,
Or by his Foe ſurpriz'd at unawares:
And as I further have to underland.

Is new committed to the Biſhop of Torke,
Fell Warwickes brother, and by that our Foe.

Riv. Theſe Newes I muſt conſeſſe are full of griſe,
Yet gracious Madam, beare it as you may,
Warwicke may loſſe, that now hath wonne the day.

Gray. Till then, faire hope muſt hinder lives decay:
And I the rather waine me from deſpaire

For love of Edwards Off-spring in my wombe :
This is it that makes me bridle my paffion,
And beare with Mildneſſe my misfortunes croſſe :

I, I, for this I draw in many a teare,
And ſtop the rifiſing of blood-fucking ſighes,
Loaſt with my ſighes or teares, I blaſt or droune

King Edwards Fruite, true heyre to th' English Crowne.

Riv. But Mailam,
Where is Warwicke then become?

Gray. I am inform'd that he comes towards London,
To fet the Crowne once more on Henries head:
Gueſſe thou the reſt, Kings Edwards friend muſt downe.

But to prevent the Tyrants violence,
(For truſt not him that hath once broken faith)
He hence forthwith unto the Sanctuary,

To fave (at leaſt) the heire of Edwards right:
There ſhall I reſt ſecure from force and fraud:
Come therefore let us flye, while we may flye,
If Warwicke take us, we are ſure to dye.

Exeunt.

## Enter Richard, Lord Hastings, and Sir Williams Stanley.

Rich. Now my Lord Hastings, and Sir Williams Stanley
Leave off to wonder why I drew you hither,
Into this cheeſt Thicket of the Parke.

Thus stands the cafe: you know our King, my Brother,
Is prifoner to the Biſhop here, at whole hands
He hath good ſuſage, and great liberty.

And often but attended with weake guard,
Comes bunting this way to diſport himſelfe.
I have adverſit'd him by ſecreſt meaneſes,

That if about this houre he make this way,
Under the colour of his uſuall game,

He ſhall here find his friends with Horſe and Men,
To fet him free from his Captivity.

## Enter King Edward, and a Huntſman with him.

Hunt. This way my Lord,

For this way lies the Game.

King Edw. Nay this way man,
See where the Hunteſmen stand.

Now brother of Gloſter, Lord Hastings, and the reſt,
Stand you thus cloſe to ſteale the Biſhops Deere?

Rich. Brother, the time and cafe, requireth haſt,

Your horſe stands ready at the Parke-corner,

King Ed. But whether ſhall we then?

Haſt: To Lyn my Lord,

And ſhip from thence to Flanders.

Rich. Well gueſt beleeve me, for that was my meaning.

King Edw. Stanley, I will reequite thy forwardneſſe.

Rich. But wherefore ſtay we ? 'tis no time to ſtalke.

King Edw. Hunteſman, what ſay't thou?

Wilt thou goe along ?

Hunt. Better doe ſo, then tarry and be hang'd.

Rich. Come then away, lets ha no more adoe.

King Edw. Biſhop farewell,

Sheeld thee from Warwickes frowne,

And pray that I may re-poſſeſſe the Crowne.

Exeunt.

## Enter King Henry the fixt, Clarence, Warwickes, Somerset, young Henry, Oxford, Mountagues, and Lieutenant.

King Hen. M. Lieutenant, now that God and Friends

Have ſhaken Edward from the Regall ſeate,
And turn'd my captive ſlate to liberty,
My ſeare to hope, my forrowes unto joyes,

At our enlargement what are thy due Fees?

Lieut. Subjects may challenge nothing of their Sou' rains

But, if an humble prayer may prevaille,
I then crave pardon of your Majety.

King Hen. For what, Lieutenant ? For well ſing me?

Nay, be thou ſure, Ile well reequite thy kindneſſe.

For that it made my imprifonment, a pleaſure :

I, ſuch a pleaſure, as incaged Birds

Conceive ; when after many moody Thoughts,

At laſt, by Notes of Houſhold harmony,

They quite forget their loſſe of liberty.

r3

But

166

But Warwicke, after God, thou fet'st me free,
And chiefely therefore, I thanke God, and thee,
He was the Author, thou the instrument.
Therefore that I may conquer Fortunes fpyight,
By living low, where Fortune cannot hurt me,
And that the people of this bleffed Land
May not be punifht with my thwarting starres,
Warwicke, although my head still weare the Crowne,
I here refigne my Government to thee,
For thou art fortunate in all thy deeds.
War. Your Grace hath still beene fam'd for vertuous,
And now may feeme as wife as vertuous,
By spying and avoiding Fortunes malice,
For few men rightly temper with the Starres :
Yet in this one thing let me blame your Grace,
For chufing me, when Clarence is in place.
Clar. No Warwicke, thon art worthy of the fway,
To whom the Heavens in thy Nativity,
Adjudg'd an Olive Branch, and Lawrell Crowne,
As likely to be bleff in Peace and Warre :
And therefore I yeeld thee my free confent.
Warw. And I chufe Clarence onely for ProteCTOR.
King. Warwicke and Clarence, give me both your hands.
Now joyne your hands, and with your hands your
That no diffention hinder Government: (hearts,
I make you both Proteutors of this Land,
While I my felfe will leade a private Life,
And in devotion ſpend my latter dayes,
To finnes rebuke, and my Creators prafize.
Warw. What anfwers Clarence to his Soveraignes
will?
Clar. That he confents, if Warwicke yeeld confent,
For on thy fortune I repofe my ſelfe.
Warw. Why then, though loth, yet muft I be content:
We'll yoake together, like a double ſhadow
To Henries Body, and ſupply his place;
I meane, in bearing weight of Government,
While he enjoyes the honor, and his eafe,
And Clarence, now then it is more then needfull,
Forthwith that Edward be pronounc'd a Traytor,
And all his Lands and Goods confificated.
Clar. What eſſe ? and that Succeſſion be determined.
Warw. I, therein Clarence ſhall not want his part.
King. But with the firſt, of all your cheife affaires,
Let me intreat (for I command no more)
That Margaret your Queene, and my Sonne Edward,
Be ſent for, to returne from France with ſpeed:
For till I fee them here, by doubtfull ſeare,
My joy of liberty is halfe eclips'd.
Clar. It ſhall be done, my Soveraigne, with all ſpeed.
King. My Lord of Somerſet, what Youth is that,
Of whom you feeme to have ſo tender care?
Somcr. My Liege, it is young Henry, Earle of Rich-
mond.
King. Come hither, Englands Hope :

Layes his Hand on his Head.
If ſecret Powers fuffeſt but truth
To my divining thoughts,
This pretty Lad will prove our Countries blifſe.
His lookes are full of peacefull Majeſty.
His head by nature fram'd to weare a Crowne,
His hand to wielda Scepter, and himſelfe
Likely in time to bleſſe a Regall Throre :
Make much of him, my Lords; for this is he
Muſt helpe you more, then you art hurt by me.

Enter a Poſſe.

Warw. What newes, my friend?
Poſſe. That Edward is eſcap'd from your brother,
And fled (as he heares ſince) to Burgundy.
Warw. Unfavory newes: but how made he eſcape?
Poſſe. He was convey'd by Richard, Duke of Gloſter,
And the Lord Haſtings, who attended him
In ſecreſt ambuſh, on the Forreſt ſide,
And from the Bishops Huntſmen reſcu'd him :
For Hunting was his dayly Exercife.
Warw. My Brother was too careſſe of his charge.
But let us hence, my Soveraigne, to provide
A falve for any ſore, that may betide.
Exennt.

Manent Somerſet, Richmond, and Oxford.

Som. My Lord, I like not of this flight of Edwards:
For doubleſe, Burgundy will yeeld him helpe,
And we ſhall have more Warres beſor't be long.
As Henries late prefaging Prophecy
Did glad my heart, with hope of this young Richmond:
So doth my heart miſ-give me, in theſe Conflicts,
What may befall him, to his harme and ours.
Therefore, Lord Oxford, to prevent the worſt,
Forthwith we'll ſend him hence to Brittany,
Till ſormes be paff of Civill Enmity.
Oſſ. I: for if Edward re poſſeſſe the Crowne,
'Tis like that Richmond, with the reſt, ſhall downe.
Som. It ſhall be ſo: he ſhall to Brittany.
Come therefore, let's about it ſpeedily.
Exennt.

Enter Edward, Richard, Hastings,
and Seuldiers.

Edw. Now brother Richard, Lord Haſtings, and the reſt,
Yet thus farre Fortune maketh us amends,
And fayes, that once more I ſhall enterechange
My wained ſtate, for Henries Regall Crowne.
Well have we paff'd, and now re-paff'd the Seas,
And brought defined helpe from Burgundy.
What then remaines, we being thus arriv'd
From Ravenſpurgh Haven, before the Gates of Torke,
But that we enter, as into our Dukedome ?
Rich. The Gates made ſaſt ?
Brother, I like not this.
For many men that flumble at the Threſhold,
Are well fore-told, that danger lurkes within.
Edw. Tufh man, abolements muſt not now affright us:
By faire or foule meanes we muſt enter in,
For hither will our friends repaire to us.
Haſt. My Liege, Ile knocke once more, to ſummon
them.

Enter on the Walls, the Mayor of Torke,
and his Brethren.
Mayor. My Lords.
We were fore-warned of your comming,
And flut the Gates, for safety of our ſelves;
For now we owe allegiance unto Henry.
Edw. But, Maſter Mayor, if Henry be your King,
Yet Edward, at the leaſt, is Duke of Torke.
Mayor. True, my good Lord, I know you for no
leſſe.
Edw. Why, and I challenge nothing but my Dukedome;
As being well content with that alone.
Rich.

Rich.

167

Rich. But when the Fox hath once got in his Nofe,
He'll foone find meanes to make the Body follow.

Hast. Why, Mafer Mayor, why fand you in a doubt?
Open the Gates, we are King Henries friends.

Mayor. I, lay you for? the Gates shall then be opened.

He defcends.

Rich. A wife flout Captaine, and foone perfwaded.
Hast. The good old man would faine that all were well.
So 'twere not long of him : but being entred,
I doubt not I, but we shall soon perfwade
Both him, and all his Brothers, unto reafon.

Enter the Mayor, and two Aldermen.
Edw. So, Mafer Mayor : there the Gates muft not be flut,
But in the Night, or in the time of Warre.
What, feare not man, but yeild me up the Keyes,
Takes his Keyes.

For Edward will defend the Towne, and thee,
And all thofe friends, that deine to follow me.

March. Enter Mountgomery, with Drumme and Souldiers.

Rich. Brother, this is Sir John Mountgomery,
Our trufty friend, unleſſe I be deceiv'd.

Edwar. Welcome Sir John : but why come you in
Armes?

Mount. To helpe King Edward in his time of ſtorme,
A ſever loyall Subjeſt ought to doe.

Edw. Thankes good Mountgomery :

But we now forget our Title to the Crowne,

And only clayme our Dukedome,

Till God pleafe to fend the reſt.

Mount. Then fare you well, for I will hence againe,
I came to ſerve a King, and not a Duke :
Drummer ſtrike up, and let us march away.

The Drumme begins to March.

Edw. Nay flay, Sir John, a while, and we'll debate
By what faſe meanes the Crowne may be recover'd.

Mount. What talke you of debating ? in ſew words,
If you'll not here proclaime your ſelfe our King,
Ile leave you to your fortune, and be gone,

To keepe them backe, that come to ſucour you.

Why ſhall we fight, if you pretend no Title ?

Rich. Why. Brother, wherefore ſtand you on nice
points?

Edw. When we grow ſtronger,

Then we'll make our Clayme :

Till then, 'tis wifdome to conceale our meaning.

Hast. Away with ſerupulous Wit, now Armes muſt
rule,

Rich. And feareneſſe minds clymbe ſooneſt unto Crowns.
Brother, we will proclaime you out of hand,

The bruit toſe Croſt will bring you many friends.

Edw. Then be it as you will : for 'tis my right,

And Henry but nurpes the Diademe.

Mount. I, now my Soveraigne ſpeaketh like himſelfe,
And now will I be Edwards Champion.

Hast. Sound Trumper, Edward shall be here proclaim'd.
Come, fellow Souldier, make thou proclamation.

Flourish.

Sound.

Soul. Edward the Fourth, by the Grace of God, King of
England and France, and Lord of Ireland, &c.

Mount. And whoſo're gainſayes King Edwards right,
By this I challenge him to ſingle fight.

Throwes downe his Gauntler.

All. Long live Edward the Fourth.

Edw. Thankes brave Mountgomery,
And thankes unto you all :

If fortune ſerve me, Ile requite this kindneſſe.

Now for this Night, let's harbor here in Torke :
And when the Morning Sunne shall raife his Carre
Above the Border of this Horizon,

We'll forward towards Warwicke, and his Mates :
For well I wot, that Henry is no Souldier.

Ah froward Clarence, how evill it beſeemes thee,
To flatter Henry, and forſake thy Brother ?

Yet as we may, we'll meet both thee and Warwicke,

Come on brave Souldiers : doubt not of the Day,

And that once gotten, doubt not of large Pay. Exeunt.

Enter the King, Warwicke, Mountague, Clarence,
Oxford, and Somerſet.

War. What counfaile, Lords ? Edward from Belgia,
With haſty Germanes, and blunt Hollanders.

Hath pafs'd in faſety through the Narrow Seas,
And with his troupes doth march amaine to London,
And many giddy people flocke to him.

King. Let's levy men, end beat him backe againe.

Clare. A little fire is quickly trodden out,

Which being ſuffer'd, Rivers cannot quench.

War. In Warwicſhire I have true-hearted friends,

Not mutinous in peace, yet bold in Warre,

Thofe will I muſter up : and thou Sonne Clarence

Shalt ſirre up in Suffolke, Norſtolke, and in Kent,

The Knights and Gentlemen, to come with thee.

Thou brother Mountague, in Buckingham,

Northampton, and in Leicestershire, ſhalt find

Men well enclin'd to heare what thou command'st

And thou, brave Oxford, wondrous well beſtov'd,

In Oxfordshire ſhalt muſter up thy friends.

My Soveraigne, with the loving Citizens,

Like to his land, gyrt in with the Ocean,

Or modeſt Dyan, circled with her Nymphs;

Shall reſt in London, till we come to him :

Faire Lords take leave, and ſtand not to reply.

Farewell my Soveraigne.

King. Farewell my Hestor, and my Troyes true hope.

Clare. In ſigne of truth, I kiffle your Highneſſe hand.

King. Well-minded Clarence, be thou fortunate.

Mount. Comfort, my Lord, and fo I take my leave.

Oxſ. And thus I feale my truth, and bid adieu.

King. Sweet Oxford, and my loving Mountague,

And all at once, once more a happy farewell.

War. Farewell, my sweet Lords, let's meet at Coventry.

Exeunt.

King. Here at the Pallace will I reſt a while.

Couſin of Exeter, what thinkes your Lordship ?

Me thinkes, the Power that Edward hath in field,

Should not be able to encounter mine.

Exes. The doubt is, that he will ſeduce the reſt.

King. That's not my feare, my meed hath got me fame:

I have not flopt mine eares to their demands,

Nor poſed off their ſuites with flow delays,

My pitty hath beene balme to heale their wounds,

My mildneſſe hath allay'd their ſwelling griefes,

My mercy dry'd their water-flowing teares.

I have not beene defirous of their wealth,

Nor much oppreſt them with great Subſidies,

Nor forward of revenge, though they much err'd.

Then why should they love Edward more then me ?

No Exeter, theſe Graces challenge Grace :

And

And when the Lyon fawns upon the Lambe,
The Lambe will never ceafe to follow him.

Shout within, A Lancaster, A Lancaster.

Exe. Harke, hearke, my Lord, what Shouts are
thefe?

Enter Edward and his Souldiers.

Edw. Seize on the chamefac'd Henry, beare him hence,
And once againe proclaime us King of England.
You are the Fount, that makes small Brookes to flow,
Now flops thy Spring, my Sea shall fucke them dry,
And fwell so much the higher, by their ebbe.
Hence with him to the Tower, let him not speake.

Exit with King Henry.

And Lords, towards Coventry bend we our courfe;
Where peremptory Warwicke now remaines :
The Sunne fhines hot, and if we ufe delay,

Cold biting Winter marres our hop'd-for Hay.

Rich. Away betimes, before his forces joyne,

And take the great-growne Traytor unawares:

Brave Warriors, march amaine towards Coventry.

Exeunt.

Enter Warwicke, the Mayor of Coventry, two
Messengers, and others upon the Walls.

War Where is the Poft that came from valiant Oxford?

How farre hence is thy Lord, mine honest fellow ?

Melf. 1. By this at Dunfmore, marching hitherward.

War. How farre off is our Brother Mountague ?

Where is the Poft that came from Mountague ?

Melf. 2. By this at Daintry, with a puflant troupe.

Enter Somervile.

War. Say Somervile, what fayes my loving Sonne ?

And by thy gueſſe, how nigh is Clarence now ?

Somer. At Southam I did leave him with his forces,

And doe expect him here fome two hours hence.

War. Then Clarence is at hand, I heare his Drumme.

Somer. It is not his, my Lord, heare Southam lyes :

The Drum you Honor heares, marcheth from Warwicke.

War. Who ſhould that be? belike unlooke'd for friends.

Somer. They are at hand, and you ſhall quickly know.

Martch. Flourih. Enter Edward, Richard,
and Souldiers.

Edw. Goe, Trumpet, to the Walls, and found a Parle.

Rich. See how the furly Warwicke mans the Wall.

War. Oh unbidfpight, is ſportfull Edward come ?

Where flept our Scouts, or how are they ſedac'd,
That we could heare no newes of his repayre.

Edw. Now Warwicke, wilt thou ope the City Gates,

Speake gentle words, and humbly bend thy Knee,

Call Edward Kings, and at his hands begge Mercy,

And he ſhall pardon thee theſe Outrages ?

War. Nay rather, wilt thou draw thy forces hence,

Conſeſſe who fet thee up, and pluckt thee downe,

Call Warwicke Patron, and be penitent,

And thou ſhalt ſtill remaine the Duke of Torke.

Rich. I thought at leaſt he would have faid the King,

Or did he make the leaſt againſt his will ?

War. Is not a Dukedome, Sir, a goodly gift ?

Rich. I, by my faith, for a poore Earle to give,

Ile doe thee ſervice for ſo good a gift.

War. 'Twas I that gave the Kingdome to thy Brother.

Edw. Why then 'tis mine, if but by Warwickes gift.

War. Thou art no Atlas for so great a weight :
And Weakeling, Warwicke takes his gift againe,
And Henry is my King, Warwicke his Subject.

Edw. But Warwicke King is Edwards Prifoner :

And gallant Warwicke, doe but anſwer this,

What is the Body, when the head is off?

Rich. Alas, that Warwicke had no more fore-caſt,

But whiles he thought to ſteale the fingle Ten,

The King was flyly finger'd from the Decke :

You left poore Henry at the Bifhops Pallace,

And tenne to one you'll meet him in the Tower.

Edw. 'Tis even ſo, yet you are Warwicke full.

Rich. Come Warwicke,

Take the time, kneele downe, kneele downe :

Nay when ? ſtrike now, or eſſe the Iron cooles.

War. I had rather chop this hand off at a blow,

And with the other, fling it at thy face.

Then beare ſo low a ſayle, to ſtrike to thee.

Edw. Sayle how thou canſt,

Have Winde and Tyde thy friend,

This hand, faſt wound about thy coale-blacke hayre,

Shall, whiles thy head is warme, and new cut off,

Write in the duſt this Sentence with thy blood,

Wind-changing Warwicke now can change no more.

Enter Oxford, with Drumme and Colours.

War. Oh cheare full Colours, ſee where Oxford comes.

Oxf. Oxford, Oxford, for Lancaster.

Rich. The Gates are open, let us enter too.

Edw. So other foes may ſet upon our backes.

Stand we in good array : for they no doubt

Will iſſue out againe, and bid us battaille ;

If not, the City being but of ſmall defence,

We'll quickly rowe the Traitors in the fame.

War. Oh welcome Oxford, for we want thy helpe.

Enter Mountague, with Drumme and Colours.

Mount. Mountague, Mountague, for Laneafter.

Rich. Thou and thy Brother both ſhall buy this Trefaon

Even with the deareſt blood your bodyes beare.

Edw. The harder matcht, the greater Viceroy,

My mind prefageth happy gaine, and Conqueſt!

Enter Somerſet, with Drumme and Colours.

Som. Somerſet, Somerſet, for Lancaſter.

Rich. Two of thy Name, both Dukes of Somerſet,

Have ſold their Lives unto the Houſe of Torke,

And thou ſhalt be the third, if this Sword hold.

Enter Clarence, with Drumme and Colours.

War. And loe, where George of Clarence ſweepes along
Of force enough to bid his brother Battaille :

With whom, an upright zeale to right, prevails

More then the nature of a Brothers love.

Come Clarence, come : thou wilt, if Warwicke call.

Clar. Father of Warwicke, know you what this meanes?

Looke here, I throw my infamy at thee :

I will not ruinate my Fathers Houſe,

Who gave his blood to lyme the ſtones together,

And fet up Lancaſter. Why, trowe ſeft thou, Warwicke,

That Clarence is ſo harſh, ſo blunt, unnaturall,

To bend the fatall Inſtruments of Warre

Against

169

Against his brother, and his lawfull King.
Perhaps thou wilt object my holy Oath:
To keepe that Oath, were more impiety,
Then lepshab, when he sacrifi'd his Daughter:
I am so forry for my Treſpas made,
Thatto defervé well at my brothers hands;
I here proclaime my ſelfe thy mortall foe:
With refolution, whereof I meet thee,
(As I will meet thee, if thou ſtirre abroad)
To plague thee, for thy ſoule mis-leading me.
And ſo, proud-hearted Warwicke, I defie thee,
And to my brother turne my bluſhing Cheekes.
Pardon me Edward, I will make amends:
And Richard, doe not frowne upon my faults,
For I will henceforth be no more unconſtant.
Edw. Now welcome more, and ten times more belov'd
Then if thou never hadt deferv'd our hate.

Rich. Welcome good Clarence, this is Brother-like.

Warw. Oh paffing Traytor, perjur'd and unjuſt.

Edw. What Warwicke,

Wilt thou leave the Towne, and fight?

Or ſhall we beat the Stones about thine Eares?

Warw. Alas, I am not coop'd here for defence :

I will away towards Barnet prefently,

And bid thee Battaille, Edward, if thou dar't.

Edw. Yes Warwicke, Edward daies, and leads the way:

Lords to the field: Saint George, and Victory. Exeunt.

Martch. Warwicke and his company followes.

Alarum, and Excursions. Enter Edward bringing forth Warwicke wounded.

Edw. So, lye thou there: dye thou, and dye our feare,
For Warwicke was a Bug that feard us all.

Now Mountague fit fall, I feeke for thee,

That Warwickes Bones may keepe thine company.

Exit.

War. Ah, who is nigh ? come to me, freind, or foe,
And tell me who is Victor, Torke, or Warwicke ?

Why aske I that ? my mangled body ſhewes,

My blood, my want of ſtrength, my ſieke heart ſhewes,

That I mult yeeld my body to the Earth,

And by my fall, the conquelt to my foe.

Thus yeelds the Cedar to the Axes edge,

Whole Armes gaveelter to the Princely Eagle,

Vader whose ſhade the ramping Lyon flept,

Whofe top-branch over-peer'd Ioves spreading Tree,

And kept low Shrubs from Winters pow'rfull Winde.

These Eyes, that now are dim'd with Deaths black Veyle

Have beene as piercing as the Mid-day Sunne,

To fearch the ſecreſt Treafons of the World :

The Wrinckles in my Browes, now fill'd with blood,

Were lik'ned oft to Kingly Sepulchers :

For who liv'd King, but I could dige his Grave?

And who durſt ſimile, when Warwicke bent his Brow ?

Loe, now my Glory ſmear'd in duſt and blood.

My Parkes, my Walkes, my Mannors that I had,

Even now forſake me; and of all my Lands,

Is nothing left me, but my bodies length.

Why, what is Pompe, Rule, Reigne, but Earth and Duſt?

And live we how we can, yet dye we muſt.

Enter Oxford and Somerſet.

Som. Ah Warwicke, Warwicke, wert thou as we are,
We might recover all our Loffe againe :

The Queene from France hath brought a puiffant power
Even now we heard the newes, ah, could it thou flye.

Warw. Why then I would not flye. Ah Mountague,
If thou be there, ſweet brother, take my hand,

And with thy Lippes keepe in my Soule a while.

Thou lov't me not : for, brother, if thou didst,

Thy teares would waſh this cold congealed blood,

That glewes my Lippes, and will not let me ſpeake.

Come quickly Mountague, or I am dead,

Som. Ah Warwicke, Mountague hath breath'd his laſt,
And to the lateſt gaſpe, cry'd out for Warwicke :

And faid, Co nnend me to my valiant Brother.

And more he would have faid, and more he ſpoke,

Which founded like a Cannon in a Vault,

That mought not be diſtinguifh'd: but at laſt,

I well might heare, delivered with a groane,

O farewell Warwicke.

War. Sweet reſt his Soule :

Flye Lords, and ſave your ſelves,

For Warwicke bids you all farewell, to meet in heaven.

Oſx. Away, away, to meet the Queenes great power.

Here they beare away his Body.

Exeunt.

Flourish. Enter King Edward in triumph, with Richard, Clarence, and the rest.

King. Thus farre our fortune keepeſ an upward courſe,
And we are graec'd with wreaths of Viſtory :

But in the midft of this bright ſhining Day,

I ſpy a blacke ſulpicious threatening Cloud,

That will encounter with our glorious Sunne,

Ere he attaine his eafeſuall Weſterne Bed :

I meane, my Lords, thofe powers that the Queene

Hath rays'd in Gallia, have arrived our Coaſt,

And, as we heare, march on to fight with us.

Clar. A little gale will ſoon difperſe that Cloud,

And blow it to the Source from whence it came,

Thy very Beames will dry thofe Vapours up,

For every Cloud engenders not a Storme.

Rich. The Queene is valued thirty thouſand ſtrong,

And Somerſet, with Oxford, fled to her :

If ſhe have time to breathe, be well aſſur'd

Her ſaction will be full as ſtrong as ours.

King. Weare advertis'd by our loving friends,

That they doe hold their courſe toward Tewksbury.

We having now the beſt at Barnet field,

Will thither ſtraight, for willingneſſe rids way,

And as we marcho, our ſtrength will be augmented :

In every County as we goe along,

Strike up the Drumme, cry courage, and away. Exeunt.

Martch. Enter the Queene, young Edward,
Somerſet, Oxford, and
Souldiers.

Qu. Great Lords, wife men ne'r fit and waile their loffe

But chearely feeke how to redreſſe their harmes.

What though the Maſt be now blowne over-boord,

The Cable broke, the holding-Achor loſt,

And halſe our ſaylors ſwallow'd in the flood ?

Yet lives our Pilot ſtill. Is't meet, that he

Should leave the Helme, and like a ſcarefull Lad,

With treareſuall Eyes adde Water to the Sea,

And give more ſtrength to that which hath too much,

Whiles in his moane, the Ship ſplits on the Rocke,

Which induſtry and Courage might have fav'd?

Ah what a ſhame, ah what a fault were this.

Say Warwicke was our Anchor : what of that ?

And

And Mountague our Top-Maſt: what of him?
Our flought red friends, the Tackles: what of theſe?
Why is not Oxford here, another Anchor?
And Somerſet, another goodly Maſt?
The friends of France our Shrowds and Tacklings?
And though unskilfull, why not N'd and I,
For once allow'd the skilfull Pilots Charge?
We will not from the Helme, to fit and weepe,
But keepe our Courſe (though the rough Winde ſay no)
From Shelves and Rocks, that threaten us with Wracke.
As good to chide the Waves, as ſpeake them ſaire.
And what is Edward, but a ruthleſſe Sea?
What Clarence, but a Quick-fand of Deceit?
And Richard, but a raged fatali Rocke?
All theſe, the Enemies to our poore Barke.
Say you can fwim, alas! tis but a while:
Tread on the Sand, why there you quickly finke,
Befride the Rocke, the Tyde will waſh you off,
Or elfe you famiſh, that's a three-fold Death.
This ſpeake I (Lords) to let you underſtand,
If cafe ſome one of you would flye from us,
That there's no hop'd-for Mercy with the Brothers,
More then with ruthleſſe Waves, with Sands and Rocks.
Why courage then, what cannot be avoided,
'Twere childiſh weakeneſſe to lament, or ſcare.

Prin. Me thinkes a Woman of this valiant Spirit,
Should , if a Coward heard her ſpeake theſe words,
Infufe his Breast with Magnanimity,
And make him, naked, foyle a man at Armes.
I ſpeake not this, as doubting any here:
For did I but ſuſpect a ſcarefull man,
He should have leave to goe away betimes,
Leaſt in our need he might infect another,
And make him of like ſpirit to himſelfe.
If any ſuch be here, as God forbid,
Let him depart, before we neede his helpe.

Oxſ. Women and Children of ſo high a courage,
And Warriors faint, why 'twere perpetuall ſhame.
Oh brave young Prince: thy famous Grandfather
Doth live againe in thee; long may'ſt thou live,
To beare his Image, and renew his Glories.

Som. And he that will not fight for ſuch a hope,
Goe home to Bed, and like the Owle by day,
If he arife, be mock'd and wondred at.

Quee. Thanks gentle Somerſet, ſweet Oxford thankes.

Prince. And take his thankes, that yet hath nothing elfe.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. Prepare you Lords, for Edward is at hand.

Ready to fight : therefore be refolute.

Oxſ. I thought no leſſe : it is his Policy,
To haſte thus ſaſt, to find us unprovided.

Som. But he's deceiv'd, we are in readineſſe.

Quee. This cheares my heart, to fee your forwardneſſe.

Oxſ. Here pitch our Battaille, hence we will not budge.

March. Enter Edward, Richard, Clarence,
and Souldiers.

Edw. Brave followers, yonder stands the thorny Wood
Which by the Heavens affiſtance, and your ſtrength,
Muſt by the Roots be hew'ne up yet ere Night.
I need not adde more ſuell to your ſire,
For well I wot, ye blaze, to burne them out:
Give ſignall to the fight, and to it Lords.

Que. Lords, Knights, and Gentlemen, what I ſhould ſay,
My teares gaine ſay: for every word I ſpeake,
Yee fee I drinke the water of my eye.
Therefore no more but this: Henry your Soveraigne
Is Prifoner to the Foe, his State uſurp'd,
His Realme a flaughter-houſe, his Subjeſts ſlaine,
His Statutes cancell'd, and his Treſure ſpent :
And yonder is the Wolſe, that makes this ſpoyle.
You fight in Inſtice : then in Gods Name, Lords,
Be valiant, and give ſignall to the fight.

Alarum, Retreat, Excursions.

Exeunt.

Enter Edward, Richard, Queene, Clarence,
Oxford, Somerſet.

Edw. Now here's a period of tumultuous Broyles.
Away with Oxford to Hames Cattle ſtraight:
For Somerſet, off with his guilty Head.

Goe beare them hence, I will not heare them ſpeake.

Oxſ. For my part, Ile not trouble thee with words.

Som. Nor I, but ſtoupe with patience to my fortune.

Exeunt.

Quee. So part we ſadly in this troublous World,
To meet with Joy in ſweet Jerusalem.

Edw. Is Proclamation made, That who finds Edward,
Shall have a high Reward, and he his Life?

Rich. It is, and loe where youthfull Edward comes.

Enter the Prince.

Edw. Bring forth the Gallant, let us heare him ſpeake.
What ? can I young a Thorne begin to pricke?
Edward, what ſatisfaction canſt thou make,
For bearing Armes, for flirring up my ſubjeſts,
And all trouble thou haſt turn'd me to?

Prin. Speake like a Subjeſt, prowd ambitions Torke.
Suppofe that I am now my Fathers Mouth,
Refiſe thy Chayre, and where I ſtand, kneele thou,
Whilft I propoſe the ſelſe-fame words to thee,
Which (Traytor) thou would'ſt have me anſwer to.

Quee. Ah, that thy Father had beene forroſv'd.

Rich. That you might ſtill have worne the Petticoat,
And ne're have ſtolne the Breech from Lancaſter.

Princ. Let A'op fable in a Winters Night,
His Currifh Riddles forts not this place.

Rich. By Heaven, Brat, Ile plague ye for that word.

Quee. I thou waſt borne to be a plague to men.

Rich. For Gods ſake, take away this Captive Scold.
Princ. Nay, take away this ſcolding Crooke-backe,
rather.

Edw. Peace, wilſul Boy, or I will charme your tongue.

Clar. Vntutor'd Lad, thou art too malapert.

Prin. I know my duty, you are all undutiful:
Laſcivious Edward, and thou perjur'd George,
And thou miſſhaſpen Dicke, I tell ye all,
I am your better, Traytors as ye are.

And thou uſurp't my Fathers right and mine.

Edw. Take that, the likeneſſe of this Rayler here.

Stabs him.

Rich. Sprawl't thou ? take that, to end thy agony.

Rich. Stabs him.

Clar. And ther's for twitting me with perjury.

Clar. Stabs him.

Quee. Oh, kill me too.

Rich. Marry, and fall.

Edw. Hold, Richard, hold, for we have done too much.
Rich.

171

Rich. Why should she live, to fill the World with
words?

Edw. What ? doth she ?wowne ? ufe meanes for her
recovery.

Rich. Clarence excufe me to the King my Brother :
Ile hence to London on a ferious matter,
Ere ye come there, be fure to heare ſome newes.

Clar. What ? what ?

Rich. Tower, the Tower.

Exit.

Que. Oh Ned, sweet Ned, I speake to thy Mother Boy.
Can'it thou not I speake ? O Traitors, Murtherers !
They that flabb'd Caſar, ſhed no blood at all :
Did not offend, nor were not worthy Blame,
If this ſoule deed were by, to equall it.
He was a Man ; this (in reſpect) a Child,
And Men, ne're I ſpend their fury on a Child.

What's worſe then Murtherer, that I may name it ?
No, no, my heart will burſt, and if I ſpake,
And I will ſpeake, that ſo my heart may burſt.
Butchers and Villaines, bloody Cannibelles,

How ſweet a Plant have you untimely cropt :

You have no children (Butchers) if you had,

The thought of them would have ſtir'd up remorſe;
But if you ever chance to have a Child,

Looke in his youth to have him ſo cut off.

As deathmen you have rind this ſweet young Prince.

King. Away with her, goe beare her hence perſence.

Que. Nay, never beare me hence, diſpatch me heere :

Here feathre thy Sword, Ile pardon thee my death :
What ? wilt thou not ? Then Clarence doe it thou.

Clar. By heaven, I will not doe thee ſo much eafe.

Que. Good Clarence doe, I ſweet Clarence do thou do it.

Clau. Did'ft thou not heare me ſweare I would not do

Que. I but thou uſeſt to forſweare thy ſelſe. (it it

Twas ſin before, but now 'tis Charity.

What wilt thou not? Where is that divels butcher Richard
Hard favor'd Richard? Richard, where art thou ?

Thou art not heere ; Murther is thy Almefdeed.

Petitioner for Blood, thou ne're pul'ft backe.

Edw. Away I fay, I charge ye beare her hence.

Que. So come to you, and yours, as to this Prince.

Exit. Queene.

Edw. Where's Richard gone..

Cla. To London all in poſt, and as I gueſſe,
To make a bloody Supper in the Tower?

Edw. He's ſodaine if a thing comes in his head.

Now march we hence, diſcharge the common ſort
With Pay and Thankes, and let's away to London,
And fee our gentle Queene how well ſhe fares,
By this (I hope) ſhe hath a Sonne for me.

Exit.

Enter Henry the fixt, and Richard, with the Lieutenant
on the Walls.

Rich. Good day, my Lord, what at your Booke ſo
hard ?

Hen. I my good Lord: my Lord I ſhould ſay rather,
'Tis finne to flatter, Good was little better :

Good Gloſter, and good devill, were alike,

And both prepoſterous: therefore, not Good Lord.

Rich. Sirrha, leave us to our ſelves, we muſt conferre.

Hen. So flyes the wreakleſſe ſhepheſ from the Wolfe:
So firſt the harmeleſſe Sheepe dooth yeeld his Fleece,
And next his Throate, unto the butchers Knife.

What Scene of death hath Roffius now to Aſte ?

Rich. Sufpition alwayes haunts the guilty mind,

The Theeſe doth ſeare each buſh an Officer,

Hen. The Bird that hath beene limed in a buſh,

With trembling wings miſdoubteth every buſh ;
And I the hapleſſe Male to one ſweet Bird,

Have now the fatall Objeſt in my eye,

Where my poore yong was limb'd, was caught, and kild.

Rich. Why what a peeviſh Foole was that of Creet,

That taught his Sonne the office of a Fowle,

And yet for all his wings, the ſoole was drown'd.

Hen. I Dedalus, my poore Boy Icavins,

Thy Father Minor, that deni'd our courſe,

The Sunne that fear'd the wings of my ſweet Boy.

Thy Brother Edward, and thy ſelſe, the Sea

Whole ſeuenous Gulſe did ſwallow up his life :

Ah, kill me with thy Weapon, not with words,

My breſt can better brooke thy Daggers point,

Then can my eares that Tragicke Hiftory.

But wherefore doſt thou come ? Is't for my Life ?

Rich. Think'ſt thou I am an Executioner ?

Hen. A perſecutor I am ſure thou art.

If murthering Innocents be Executing,

Why then thou art an Executioner,

Rich. Thy Son I kill'd for his preſumption.

Hen. Had'ſt thou bin kill'd, when firſt thou did pre-
Thou had'ſt not liv'd to kill a Sonne of mine : (ſame

And thus I propheſe, that many a thouſand,

Which now miſtruſt no parcell of my ſeare,

And many an old mans ſigh, and many a Widdowes,

And many an Orphan's water-flanding-eye,

Men for their Sonnes, Wives for their Husbands ſate,

And Orphans, for their Parents timeles death,

Shall rue the houre that ever thou was't borne.

The Owle ſhrie'd at thy birth, an evill ſigne,

The Night-Crow cry'd, aboding luckleſſe time,

Dogs howl'd, and hiddeous Tempſeſt ſhook down Trees:

The Raven rook'd her on the Chimnies top,

And chatt'ring Pies in diſmall Difcords ſung :

Thy Mother felt more then a Mothers paine,

And yet brought forth leſſe then a Mothers hope,

To wit, an indigeſted deformed lumpe,

Not like the fruit of ſuch a goodly Tree.

Teeth had'ſt thou in thy head, when thou was't borne,

To ſignifie, thou cam'ſt to bite the world :

And if the reſt be true, which I have heard,

Thou cam'ſt—

Rich. Ile heare no more :

Stabs him.

Dye Prophet in thy ſpeech,

For this (among'ſt the reſt) was I ordain'd.

Hen. I, and for much more ſlaughter after this,

O God forgive my finnes, and pardon thee.

Dyes.

Rich. What ? will the alſpiring blood of Lancafter

Sinke in the ground? I thought it would have mounted.

See how my ſword weepes for the poore Kings death.

O may ſuch purple teares be alway ſhed

From thate that wifh the downeſall of our houſe.

If any ſparke of life be yet remaining,

Downe, downe to hell, and ſay I lent thee thither.

Stabs him againe.

I that have neither pitty, love, nor ſeare,

Indeed 'tis true that Henrie told me of :

For I have often heard my Mother ſay,

I came into the world with my Legs forward.

Had I not reaſon (thinke ye) to make haſt,

And ſeeke their Ruine, that uſurp'd our Right ?

The Midwife wonder'd, and the Women cride

O Iefus bleſſe us, he is borne with teeth,

And

And so I was, which plainly signified,
That I should fharle, and bite, and play the dogge:
Then since the Heavens have fhap'd my body to,
Let hell make crook'd my Mind to anſwer it.
I have no brother, I am like no brother:
And this word [Love] which Gray-beards call Divine,
Be confident in men like one another,
And not in me: I am my ſelfe alone.
Clarence beware, thou keept it me from the light,
But I will fort a pitchy day for thee:
For I will bazze abroad ſuch Propheſies,
That Edward ſhall be ſcarefull of his life,
And then to purge his ſcare, Ile be thy death.
King Henry, and the Prince his Son are gone,
Clarence thy turne is next, and then the reſt,
Counting my ſelfe but bad, till I be beſt.
Ile throw thy body in another roome,
And Triumph Henry, in thy day of Doome.

Enter King, Queene, Clarence, Richard, Hailings,
Nurse, and Attendants.

King. Once more we fit in Englands Royall Throne,
Re-purchac'd with the Blood of Enemies:
What valiant Foe-men, like to Autumnes Corne,
Have we mow'd downe in tops of all their pride ?
Three Dukes of Somerſet, threefold Renowne,
For hardy and undoubted Champions:
Two Cliffsors, as the Father and the Sonne,
And two Northumberlands: two braver men,
Ne're ſpurr'd their Courſers at the Trumpets found.
With them, the two brave Beares, Warwickes and Mounta-
That in their Chaines fetter'd the Kingely Lyon,
And made the Forreſt tremble when they roar'd.

Thus have we ſwept Suſpition from our Seate,
And made our foottoole of Security.
Come hither Beſſe, and let me kiffe my Boy:
Yong Ned, for thee, thine Vnckles, and my ſelfe,
Have in our Armors watcht the Winter night,
Wentall afoote in Summers ſcalding heate,
That thou might it ſepoffeſſe the Crowne in peace,
And of our Labours thou ſhalt reape the gaine.
Rich. Ile blaſt his Harveſt, if your head were laid,
For yet I am not look'd on in the world.
This ſhoulder was ordain'd ſo thicke, to heave,
And heave it ſhall ſome waight, or breake my backe;
Workethou the way, and that ſhalt execute.
King. Clarence and Gloſter, love my lovely Queene,
And kis your Princely Nephew Brothers both.
Clar. The duty that I owe unto your Majefly,
I Seale upon the lips of this ſweet Babe.
D. Clar. I thankes Noble Clarence, worthy brother thanks,
Rt. And that I love the tree from whence thou ſprang it
Witneſſe the loving kiffe I give the Fruite:
To ſay the truth, ſo Iudas kiff his maſter,
And cryed all haile, when as he meant all harme.
King. Now am I feared as my foule delights,
Having my Countries peace, and brothers loves.
Clar. What will your Grace have done with Margarets?
Reynard her Father, to the King of France
Hath pawn'd the Sicils and Ierusalem,
And hither have they ſent it for her ranſome.
King. Away with her, and waſt her hence to France:
And now what reſts, but that we ſpend the time
With ſtately Triumphes, mirthfull Comicke ſhewes,
Such as beſits the pleaſure of the Court.
Sound Drummes and Trumpets, farewell ſowre annoy,
For heere I hope begins our laſling joy. Exeunt onnes.

FfNfS.

The Life and Death of Richard the Third.

174

Rich. Even so, and please your Worship Brakenbury,
You may partake of any thing we say:
We speak no Treason man; We say the King
Is wife and vertuous, and his Noble queene
Well fitrooke in yeeres, faire and not jealous.
We say, that Shores Wife hath a pretty Foot,
A cherry Lip, a bonny Eye, a passing pleasing tongue:
And that the Queens Kindred are made gentle Folkes.
How say you fir? can you deny all this?

Bra. With this (my Lord) my selfe have nought to
doe.

Rich. Naught to doe with Miftris Shore?
I tell thee Fellow, he that doth naught with her
(Excepting one) were beft to doe it secretly alone.

Bra. What one, my Lord?

Rich. Her Husband Knave, would it thou betray me?
Bra. I do befeech your Grace
To pardon me, and with all forbeare
Your Conference with the Noble Duke.

Cla. We know thy charge Brakenbury, and will obey.
Rich. We are the Queens abjeets, and muft obey.

Brother farewell, I will unto the King,
And whatfoeuer you will employ me in,
Were it to call King Edwards Widdow, Sifter,
I will performe it to infranchife you.

Meane time, this deepe difgrace of Brotherhood,
Touches me deeper then you can imagine.

Cla. I know it pleafeth neither of us well.

Rich. Well, your imprifonment shall not be long,
I will deliver you, or else lye for you:
Meane time have patience.

Cla. I muft perforce: farewell. Exit Clar.
Rich. Go tread the path that thou fhalt ne're return:

Simple plaine Clarence, I do love thee so,
That I will shortly fend thy Soule to Heaven,
If Heaven will take the prefent at our hands,
But who comes heere ? the new delivered Hastings?

Enter Lord Hastings.

Haſt. Good time of day unto my gracious Lord,

Rich. As much unto my good Lord Chamberlaine :
Well are you welcome to this open Ayre,
How hath your Lordship brook'd imprifonment?

Haſt. With patience (Noble Lord) as prifoners muſt:
But I ſhall live (my Lord) to give them thankes,

That were the caufe of my imprifonment.

Rich. No doubt, no doubt, and so shall Clarence too,
For they that were your Enemies, are his,
And have prevail'd as much on him, as you.

Haſt. More pitty, that the Eagles should be mew'd,
Whiles Kites and Buzzards play at liberty.

Rich. What newes abroad ?

Haſt. No newes so bad abroad, as this at home:
The King is fickly, weake and melancholly,
And his Phyſitians feare him mightily.

Rich. Now by Saint John, that newes is bad indeed.
O he hath kept an evill diet long,
And over-much confum'd his Royall Person :

'Tis very greevous to be thought upon.
Where is he, in his bed?

Haſt. He is.

Rich. Go you before, and I will follow you.
Exit Hastings.
He cannot live I hope, and muſt not dye,
Till George be pack'd with poſt-horſe up to Heaven,

Ile in urge his hatred more to Clarence,
With Lyes well ſeel'd with weighty arguments,
And if I faile not in my deepe intent,
Clarence hath not another day to live:

Which done, God take King Edward to his mercy,
And leave the world for me to buſle in,
For then, Ile marry Warwickes youngeſt daughter,
What though I kill'd his Husband, and her Father,
The readieſt way to make the Wench amends,
Is to become her husband and her Father:

The which will I, not all fo much for love,
As for another ſecret cloſe intent,

By marrying her, which I muſt reach unto.

But yet I run before my horſe to Market :
Clarence ſtill breathes, Edward ſtill lives and reignes,
When they are gone, then muſt I count my gaines. Exit

## Scena Secunda.

Enter the Coarſe of Henriſe the fixt with Halberds to guard it,
Lady Anne being the Mourner.

Anne. Set downe, fet downe your honorable load,
If Honor may be ſhrownded in a Herſe;
Whilft I a-while obſeqviously lament
Th' untimely fall of Vertuous Lancafter,
Poore key-cold Figure of a holy King,
Pale afhes of the Houſe of Lancafter;

Thou bloodleſſe Remnant of that Royall Blood,
Be it lawfull that I invocate thy Ghoſt,
To heare the Lamentations of poore Anne,

Wife to thy Edward, to thy ſlaughtred Sonne,
Stab'd by the ſelfefame hand that made theſe wounds:

Loe, in theſe windowes that let forth thy life,
I powre the hel plefle Ealme of my poore eyes.

O curſed be the hand that made theſe holes:

Curſed the heart, that had the heart to do it:
Curſed the Blood, that let this blood from hence:

More direſſu hap betide that hated Wretch
That makes us wretched by the death of thee,
Then I can wifh to Wolves, to Spiders, Toades,
Or any creeping venom'd thing that lives.

If ever he have Childe, Abortive be it,
Prodigious, and untimely brought to light,
Who ſtore ugly and unnaturall Apeſt

May fright the hopefull Mother at the view,
And that be Heyre to his unhappineſſe.

If ever he have Wife, let her be made
More miferable by the death of him,

Then I am made by my young Lord, and thee.
Come now towards Chertſey with your holy Lode,
Taken from Paules, to be interred there.

And fill as you are weary of this waight,
Reſt you, whiles I lament King Henriues Coarſe.

Enter Richard Duke of Gloſter.

Rich. Stay you that beare the Coarſe, & fet it downe.
An. What blacke Magitian conjures up this Fiend,
To ſtop devoted charitable deeds?

Rich. Villains fet downe the Coarſe; or by S. Paul,
Ile make a Coarſe of him that diſobeyes.

Gom.

["The Life and Death of Richard the Third.", "Gen. My Lord fland backe, and let the Coftin paffe.", "Rich. Vnmanner'd Dogge,", "Stand thou when I command :", "Advance thy Halbert higher then my breft,", "Or by S. Paul Ile strik thee to my Foote,", "And fburne upon thee Begger for thy boldneſſe.", "Anne. What do you tremble ? are you all affaírd ?", "Alas, I blame you not, for you are Mortall,", "And Mortall eyes cannot endure the Divell.", "Avant thou dreadfull minifter of Hell ;", "Thou had it but power over his Mortall body,", "His foule thou canſt not have : Therefore be gone.", "Rich. Sweet Saint, for Charity, be not ſo curſt.", "An. Foule Divell,", "For Gods fake hence, and trouble us not,", "For thou haſt made the happy earth thy Hell :", "Fill'd it with curling cries, and deepe exclaimes :", "If thou delight to view thy heynous deeds,", "Behold this patterne of thy Butcheries.", "Oh Gentlemen, fee, fee dead Henries wounds,", "Open their congeal'd mouthes, and bleed afreſh.", "Bluſh, bluſh, thou lumpe of foule Deformitie :", "For't is thy prefence that exhales this blood", "From cold and empty Veines where no blood dwels.", "Thy deeds inhumane and unnaturall,", "Provokes this Deluge moſt unnaturall.", "O God ! which this Blood mad' it, revenge his death :", "O Earth ! which this Blood drink' it, revenge his death.", "Either Heav'n with Lightning strike the murth'r dead.", "Or Earth gape open wide, and catch him quickie,", "Aſhou doſt Iſallow up this good Kings blood,", "Which his Hell-govern'd armre hath butchered.", "Rich. Lady, you know no Rules of Charity,", "Which renders good for bad, Bleſſings for Curaſes.", "An. Villaine, thou know' it nor law of God nor Man,", "No Bcaſt to ſierce, but knowes ſome touch of pitty.", "Rich. But I know none, and therefore am no Bcaſt,", "An. O wonderful, when divells tell the truth !", "Rich. More wonderful, when Angels are ſo angry :", "Vouchſaſe (divine perſection of a Woman)", "Of theſe ſuppofed Crimes, to give me leave", "By circumſtance, but to acquit my ſelfe.", "An. Vouchſaſe (defus'd inſection of a man)", "Of theſe knowne eviſs, but to give me leave", "By circumſtance, to curſe thy carſed ſelfe.", "Rich. Fairer then tongue can name thee, let me have", "Some patient leyſure to excufe my ſelfe.", "An. Fouler then heart can thake thee,", "Thou can it make no excufe currant,", "But to hang thy ſelfe.", "Rich. By ſuch deſpaire, I ſhould accufe my ſelfe.", "An. And by deſpairing ſhalt thou ſtand excuſed,", "For doing worthy Vengeance on thy ſelfe,", "That did it unworthy ſlaughter upon others.", "Rich. Say that I flew them not.", "An. Then ſay they were not ſlaine :", "But dead they are, and diviſiſh ſlave by thee.", "Rich. I did not kill your Husband.", "An. Why then he is alive.", "Rich. Nay, he is dead, and ſlaine by Edwards hands.", "An. In thy foule throat thou Ly' it,", "Queene Margaret ſaw", "Thy murd'rous Faulchon ſmoaking in his blood :", "The which, thou once didd' it bend againſt her breſt,", "But that thy Brothers beate ſide the point.", "Rich. I was provoked by her ſtand'rous tongue,", "That laid their guilt, upon my guiltleſſe Shoulders.", "An. Thou was't provoked by thy bloody minde,", "That never dream' it on ought but butcheries :", "Did it thou not kill this King?", "Rich. I graunt ye.", "An. Do it grant me Hedge-hogge,", "Then God grant me too", "Thou may it be damned for that wicked deede :", "O he was gentle, milde, and vertuous,", "Rich. The better for the King of heaven that hath him.", "An. He is in heaven where thou ſhalt never come.", "Rich. Let him thanke me, that holpe to ſend him thi-\nther:", "For he was fitter for that place then earth.", "An. And thou unſit for any place but hell.", "Rich. Yes one place ſelle, if you will heare me name it.", "An. Some dungeon.", "Rich. Your Bed-chamber.", "An. I'll reſt midſe the chamber where thou lyeſt.", "Rich. So will it Madam, till I lye with you.", "An. I hope ſo.", "Rich. I know ſo. But gentle Lady Anne,", "To leave this keene encounter of our wits,", "And fall ſomething into a flower method,", "Is not the cauſer of the timeleſſe deaths", "Of theſe Plantagenets, Henrie and Edward,", "As blamefull as the Executioner?", "An. Thou was't the cauſe, and moſt accuſt effect.", "Rich. Your beauty was the cauſe of that effect :", "Your beauty, that did haunt me in my ſleepe,", "Toundertake the death of all the world,", "So I might live one hour in your ſweet boſome.", "An. If I thought that, I tell thee Homicide,", "Theſe Nayles ſhould rent that beauty from my Cheekes.", "Rich. Theſe eyes could not endure ſy beauties wrack,", "You ſhould not blemiſh it, if I ſtood by ;", "As all the world is cheared by the Sunne,", "So I by that : It is my day, my life.", "An. Blaſe night ore-ſhade thy day, & death thy life.", "Rich. Curaſe not thy ſelfe faire Creature,", "Thou art beth,", "An. I would I were, to be reveng'd on thee.", "Rich. It is a quarrell moſt unnaturall,", "To be reveng'd on him that loveth thee.", "An. It is a quarrell juſt and reaſonable,", "To be reveng'd on him that kill'd my Husband.", "Rich. He that bereſt the Lady of thy Husband,", "Did it to helpe thee to a better husband.", "An. His better doth not breathe upon the earth.", "Rich. He lives, that loves thee better then he could.", "An. Name him.", "Rich. Plantagenet.", "An. Why that was he.", "Rich. The ſelfeſame name, but one of better Nature.", {"bbox": [483,

["The Life and Death of Richard the Third.", "177", "Gray. No other harme, but loſſe of ſuch a Lord.", "Gu. The loſſe of ſuch a Lord, includes all harmes.", "Gray. The Heavens have bleſt you with a goodly Son,\nTo be your Comforter, when he is gone.", "Gu. Ah ! he is yong ; and his muority", "Is put unto the truſt of Richard Glouſter,", "A man that loves not me, nor none of you.", "Riv. Is it concluded he shall be protector ?", "Gu. It is deterrein'd, not concluded yet :", "But if it muſt be, if the King miſ carry.", "### Enter Buckingham and Derby.", "Gray. Here comes the Lord of Buckingham & Derby.", "Bne. Good time of day unto your Royall Grace.", "Der. God make your Majeſtly joyfull, as you have bin.", "Gu. The Countefle Richmond, good my L. of Derby.", "To your good prayer, will ſcarſe y'ay, Amen.", "Yet Derby, notwithſtanding ſhewe your wife,", "And loves not me, be you good Lord affur'd,\nI have not you for her proud arrogance.", "Der. I do beſeech you, either not believe", "The envious ſlanders of her ſelfe Accufers :", "Or if he be accuſ'd on true report,", "Bare with her weakneſſe, which I thinke proceeds", "From wayward fickneſſe, and no grounded malice.", "Gu. Saw you the King to day my Lord of Derby?", "Der. But now the Duke of Buckingham and I,", "Are come from vifiting his Majeſtyle.", "Gu. What likelyhood of his amendment Lords?", "Bne. Madam good hope, his Grace ſpeakes chearfully.", "Gu. God grant him health, did you confer with him?", "Bne. I Madam, he deſires to make attonement.", "Betweene the Duke of Glouſter, and your Brothers,", "And betweene them, and my Lord Chamberlaine,", "And ſent to warne them to his Royall prefence.", "Gu. Would all were well, but that will never be,\nI ſcare our happineſſe is at the height.", "### Enter Richard.", "Rich. They do me wrong, and I will not indure it,\nWho is it that complaines unto the King,", "That I (forſooth) am ſterne, and love them not?", "By holy Paul, they love his Grace but lightly,", "That fill his eares with ſuch diffenſtious Rumors.", "Becaufe I cannot flatter, and looke faire,", "Smile in mens faces, ſmooth, deceive, and cogge,", "Ducke with French no'ds, and Apife curſeſe,", "I mault be held a rancorous Enemy.", "Cannot a plaine man live, and thinke no harme,", "But thus his ſimple truth muſt be abus'd,", "With ſilken, flye, infuſuating Iacke?", "Grey. To whom in all this prefence ſpeakes your Grace?", "Rich. To thee, that hait nor honeſtly, nor Grace :", "When have I injur'd thee? When done thee wrong?", "Or thee? or thee? or any of your Faſtion ?", "A plague upon you all. His Royall Grace", "(Whom God preferve better then you would wifh)", "Cannot be quiet ſcarſe a breathing while,", "But you muſt trouble him with lew'd complaints.", "Gu. Brother of Gloſter, you miſtake the matter :", "The King on his owne Royall diſpoſition,", "(And not provok'd by any Sutor elfe)", "Ayming (belike) at your interior hatred,", "That in your outward action ſhewes it ſelfe", "Against my Children, Brothers, and my ſelfe,", "Makes him to ſend, that he may leane the ground.", "Rich. I cannot tell, the world is growne to bad,\nThat Wrens make prey, where Eagles dare not pearch.", "Since everie Iacke became a Gentleman,", "There's many a gentle perſon made a Iacke.", "Gu. Come, come, we know your meaning Brother", "You enavy my advancement, and my friends : Gloſter,\nGod grant we never may have neede of you.", "Rich. Meane time, God grants that I have need of you.", "Our Brother is imprion'd by your meanes,", "My ſelfe diſgrac'd, and the Nobilitie", "Held in contempt, while great Promotions", "Are daily given to enoble thofe", "That ſcarſe fome two dayes ſince were worth a Noble.", "Gu. By him that rais'd me to this carefull height,", "From that contented hap which I injoy'd.", "I never did incenſe his Majeſtie", "Againſt the Duke of Clavence, but have bin", "An earneſt advocate to plead for him.", "My Lord you do me ſhamefull injurie,", "Falfely to draw me in theſe vile ſuſpects.", "Rich. You may deny that you were not the meane", "Of my Lord Hauſings late imprionment.", "Riv. She may my Lord, for—", "Rich. She may Lord Rivers, why who knowes not for\nShe may do more fir then denying that :", "She may helpe you to many faire preferments,", "And then deny her ayding hand therein,", "And lay thofe Honors on your high defert.", "What may ſhe not, ſhe may, I marrie may ſhe.", "Riv. What marrie may ſhe?", "Rich. What marrie may ſhe? Marrie with a King,\nA batcheller, and a handſome ſtripling too,", "I w'is your Grandam had a worſer match.", "Gu. My Lord of Glouſter, I have too long borne", "Your blunt upbraidings, and your bitter ſcoffes :", "By heaven, I will acquaint his Majeſtie", "Of thofe groſſe taunts that oft I have endur'd.", "I had rather be a Countrie ſervant maide", "Then a great Queene, with this condition,", "To be ſo baited, ſcorn'd, and ſtormed at,", "Small joy have I in being Englands Queene.", "### Enter old Queene Margaret.", "Mar. And leftne be that small, God I beſeech him,\nThy honor, ſtate, and ſeate, is due to me.", "Rich. What ? threat you me with telling of the King ?", "I will avouch't in prefence of the King :", "I dare adventure to be ſent to th' Tower.", "'Tis time to ſpeake,", "My paines are quite forgot.", "Margaret. Out Divell,", "I do remember them too well :", "Thou kill'd it my Husband Henrie in the Tower,", "And Edward my poore Son, at Tewkesbury.", "Rich. Ere you were Queene,", "I, or your Husband King :", "I was a packe-horſe in his great affaires :", "A weeder out of his proud Adverfaries,", "A liberall rewarder of his Friends,", "To royalize his blood, I ſpent mine owne.", "Margaret. I and much

178

Rich. In all which time, you and your Husband Grey
Were factious, for the houſe of Lancaster;

And Rivers, were you: was not your Husband,
In Margarets Battaille, at Saint Albons, flaine?

Let me put in your mindes, if you forget
What you have beene ere this, and what you are:
Withall, what I have beene and what I am.

Q. M. A murth'rons Villaine, and fo fillthou art.

Rich. Poore Clarence did forſake his Father Warwicke,
I, and forſwore himſelfe (which Iefu pardon.)

Q. M. Which God revenge.

Rich. To fight on Edwards partie, for the Crowne,
And for his meede, poore Lord, he is mewed up:
I would to God my heart were Flint, like Edwards,

Or Edwards soft and pittifull, like mine;
I am too childifh foolifh for this World.

Q. M. High thee to Hell for ſhame,& leave this World
Thou Cacodemon, therethy Kingdome is.

Riv. My Lord of Glofter: in thate bufie dayes,
Which here you urge, to prove us Enemies,
We follow'd then our Lord, our Soveraigne King,
So should we you, if you ſhould be our King.

Rich. If I ſhould be? I had rather be Pedler's
Farre be it from my heart, the thought thereof.

Qu. As little joy (my Lord) as you ſuppofe
You ſhould enjoy, were you this Countries King,
As little joy you may ſuppofe in me,
That I enjoy, being the Queene thereof.

Q. M. A little joy enjoyes the Queene thereof,
For I am ſhe and altogether joyleſſe.

I can no longer hold me patient.

Heare me, you wrangling Pyrates that fall out,
In sharing that which you have pill'd from me:
Which of you trembles not, that looks on me?

If not, that I am Queene, you bow like Subjects;
Yet thatby you depos'd, you quake like Reblis.

Abgentle Villaine doe not turne away. (fight)
Rich. Foule wrinckled Witch, what mak'ſt thou in my
Q. M. But repetition of what thou haſt marr'd,

That will I make, before I let thee goe.

Rich. Wert thou not banifhed on paine of death?

Q. M. I was: but I doe find more paine in banifhment,
Then death can yeeld me here, by abode.

A Husband and a Sonne thou ow't to me,
And thou a Kingdome; all of you allegiance:
This Sorrow that I have, by right is yours,

And all the Pleaſures you uſturpere are mine.

Rich. The Curſe my Noble Father layd on thee,
When thou didſt Crown his Warlike Brows with Paper,
And with thy ſcornes drew'ſt rivers from his eyes,
And then to dry them, gav'ſt the Duke a Clowt,
Steep'd in the faultleſſe blood of prettie Rutland:
His Curſes then, from bitternelſe of Soule,
Denounc'd againſt thee, are faine upon thee :
And God, not we, hath plagu'd thy bloody deed.

Q. M. So juſt is God, to right the innocent.

Haſt. O, twas the fouleft deed to ſlay that Babe,
And the moſt merciſſe that cre was heard of.

Riv. Tyrants themſelves wept when it was reported,
Dorf. No man but prophecied revenge for it.

Buck. Northumberland, then prefent wept to fee it.

Q. M. What? were you ſnarling all before I came,
Ready to catch each other by the throat,

And turne you al your hatred now on me?

Did Yorkes dread Curſe prevaile ſo much with Heaven,
That Henries death, my lovely Edwards death,

Their Kingdomes loffe, my wo full banifhment,
Should all but anſwere for that peeviſh brat?
Can curſe pierce the Cloudes and enter Heaven?
Why then give way dull Cloudes to my quicke Curſes.
Though not by warre, by Surſet dye your King,
As ours by Murther, to make him a King.

Edward thy Sonne, that now is Prince of Wales,
For Edward our Sonne that was Prince of Wales,
Dye in his youth, by like untimely violence.

Thy ſelfe a Queene, for me that was a Queene.
Out-live thy glorie, like my wretched ſelfe :

Long may'ſt thou live, to waile thy Childrens death,
And fee another, as I fee thee thee now.

Deck'd in thy Rights, as then art ſtall'd in mine.

Long dye thy happie dayes, before thy death,
And after many length'ned howres of griefe.

Dye neither Mother, Wife, nor Englands Queene.
Rivers and Dorſet, you were ſtanders by,

And to waſt thou, Lord Haſings, when my Sonne
Was ſtab'd with bloody Daggers: God, I pray him,
That none of you may live his natural age,
But by ſome unlook'd accident cut off.

Rich. Have done thy Charme, haſt thou well wither'd Haſſe.

Q. M. And leave out theſe? ſtay Dog, for y ſalt heare me.
If Heaven have any grievous plague in ſtore,
Exceeding theſe that I can wifh upon thee,
O let them keepe it, till thy finnes be ripe,
And then hurle downe their indignation.

On thee, the troubler of the poore Worlds peace.
The worme of Conſience full begnaw thy Soule,
Thy Friends ſuſpect for Traytors while thou liv'ſt,
And take deepe Traytors for thy deareſt Friends:

No ſleepe cloſe up that deadly Eye of thine,
Vnleſſe it be while ſome tormenting Dreame
Affrightes thee with a Hell of uoguly Divells.

Thou elvith mark'd, abortive rooting Hogge,
Thou that waſt ſeal'd in thy Nativitie

The ſlave of Nature, and the Sonne of Hell:

Thou ſlander of thy heavie Mothers Wombe,
Thou loathed ſlue of thy Fathers Loynes,
Thou Ragge of Honor, thou detefted.

Rich. Margaret.

Q. M. Richard.

Rich. Ha.

Q. M. I call thee nor.

Rich. I cry thee mercie then: for I did thinke,
That thou hadſt call'd me all theſe bitter names.

Q. M. Why ſo I did, but look'd for no reply.
Oh let me make the Period to my Curſe.

Rich. 'Tis done by me, and ends in Margareto.

Q. Thus have you breath'd your curſe againſt your ſelf.

Q. M. Poore painted Queen, vain flouriſh of my fortune,
Why ſtrew'ſt thou Sugar on that Bottel'd Spider,
Whofe deadly Web enſinareth thee about?

Foole, foole, thou whet'ta Knife to kill thy ſelfe:

The day will come, that thou haſt wifh for me,

To helpe thee curſe this poyſonous Bunch-backe Toade.

Haſt. Fale boding Woman, end thy franticke Curſe,
Leaſto thy harme, thou move our patience.

Q. M. Foule ſhame upon you, you have all mo'd mine.
Ri. Were you wel ſerv'd, you would be taught your duty.

Q. M. To ſerve me well, you all should doe me duty,
Teach me to be your Queene, and you my Subjects:
O ſerve me well, and teach your ſelves that duty.

Dorf. Difpute not with her, ſhe is lunaticke.

Q. M. Peace after Marqueſſe, you are malapert,
Your fire-new ſtampe of Honor is ſcarce currant.

0

O that your young Nobilitie can judge

What 'twere to lose it, and be miferable.
They that stand high, have many blasps to flake them,
And if they fall, they dafh themselves to peeces.

Rich. Good counsailable marry, learne it, learne it Mar-
quie.

Dor. It touches you my Lord, as much as me.

Rich. I, and much more : but I was borne so high :
Our ayerie buildeth in the Cedars top,
And dallies with the winde, and fornes the Sunne.

Mar. And turns the Sun to flade: alas, alas,
Witnesse my Sonne now in the flade of death,
Whofe bright out-flining beames, thy cloudy wrath.

Hath in eternal Darkeneſſe folded up.

Your ayery buildeth in our ayeries Neſt :

O God that feel'd it do not suffer it,

As it is wonne with blood, loſſ be it so.

Buc. Peace, peace for charity: If not for Chariity.

Mar. Vrge neither charity, nor ſhame to me :

Vncharitably with me have you dealt,

And ſhamefully my hopes (by you) are butcher'd.

My Chariity is outrage, Life my ſhame,

And in that ſhame, I'll live my forrowes rage.

Buc. Have done, have done.

Mar. O Princely Buckingham, Ile kiffie thy hand,
In ſigne of League and amity with thee :

Now faire befall thee, and thy Noble houſe :

Thy Garments are not ſpotted with our blood :

Nor forth within the compaſſe of my curſe.

Buc. Nor no one heere: for Curſes never pafle
The lips of thofe that breathe them in the ayre.

Mar. I will not thinke but they aſcend the sky,
And there awake Gods gentle ſleeping peace.

O Buckingham, take heede of yonder dogge :
Looke when he fawnes, he bites; and when he bites,
His venom tooth will rankle to the death :

Have not to do with him, beware of him,

Simme, death, and hell have fet their markes on him,

And all their Minifters attend on him.

Rich. What doth the fay, my Lord of Buckingham ?

Buc. Nothing that I reſpect my gracious Lord.

Mar. What doſt thou ſcorne me

For my gentle counſell?

And tooth the divell that I warne thee from.

O but remember this another day :

When he ſhall ſplit thy very heart with ſorrow :

And ſay (poore Margaret) was a Propheteſſe :

Live each of you the ſubjects to his hate,
And he to yours, and all of you to God's.

Exit.

Buc. My haire doth ſtand an end to heare her curſes.

Riv. And doth doth mine, I muſe why ſhe's at liberty.

Rich. I cannot blame her, by God's holy mother,

She hath had too much wrong, and I repent

My part thereof, that I have done to her.

Mar. I never did her any to my knowledge.

Rich. Yet you have all the vantage of her wrong:
I was too hot, to doe ſome body good,

That is too cold in thinking of it now :

Marry as for Clarence, he is well repayed :

He is frank'd up to fatting for his paines,
God pardon them, that are the cauſe thereof.

Riv. A vertuous, and a Chriſtian ſike conclusion,
To pray for them that have done ſcath to us.

Rich. So do I ever, being well advis'd.

Speakes to himſelfe.

For had I curſt now, I had curſt my ſelfe.

Enter Catesby.

Cares. Madam, his Majesty doth call for you,

And for your Grace, and yours my gracious Lord.

Qu. Catesby I come, Lords will you go with me.

Riv. We wait upon your Grace.

Exeunt all but Gloster.

Rich. I do the wrong, and firſt begin to brawle:
The ſecret Mifcheefes that I fet abroad,

I lay unto the greevons charge of others.

Clarence, whom I indeede have caſt in darkneſſe,

I do beweep to many ſimple Gulls,

Namely to Derby, Haſtings, Buckingham,

And tell them 'tis the Queene, and her Allies,

That ſtirre the King againſt the Duke my Brother.

Now they beleeve it, and withall whet me

To be reveng'd on Rivers, Dorſer, Grey.

But then I ſigh, and with a peecce of Scripture,
Tell them that God bids us doe good for evill :

And thus I cloath me my naked Villanie

With odde old ends, ſtolne forth of holy Writ,

And feeme a Saint, when mol't I play the divell.

Enter two murtherers.

But loſſ, heere comes my executioners,

How now my hardy ſtout resolved Mates,

Are you now going to diſpatch this thing ?

Vil. We are my Lord, and come to have the Warrant,
That we may be admitted where he is.

Rich. Well thought upon, I have it heere about me :

When you have done, repayre to Crosby place :

But firſt be ſodaine in the execution,

Withall obdurate, do not heare him pleade ;

For Clarence is well ſpoken, and perhaps

May move your hearts to pitty, if you marke him.

Vil. Tut, tut, my Lord, we will not ſtand to prate,

Talkers are no good dooers, be affur'd :

We go to uſe our hands, and not our tongues.

Rich. Your eyes drop Mill-flones, when Fooles eyes
fall Teares.

I like you Lads, about your buſineſſe ſtraight.

Go, go, diſpatch.

Vil. We will my Noble Lord.

## Scena Quarta.

Enter Clarence and Keeper.

Keep. Why lookes your Grace so heavily to day?

Cla. O, I have palt a miferable night,

So full of fearefull Dreames, of ugly fights,

That as I am a Chriſtian faithfull man,

I would not ſpend another ſuch a night

Though 'twere to buy a world of happy dayes :

So full of diſmall terror was the time.

Keep. What was your dream my Lord, I pray you tel me.

Cla. Me thoughts that I had broken from the Tower,
And was embark'd to croſſe to Burgundy,

And in my company my Brother Glouſter,
Who from my Cabin tempted me to walke,

Vpon the Hatches : There we look'd toward England,
And cited up a thouſand heavy times,

During

180

During the warres of Yorke and Lancafter
That had befalne us us. As he pae'd along
Vpon the giddy footing of the Hatches,
Me thought that Glofter flumbled, and in falling
Strooke me (that thought to fly him) over-board,
Into the tumbling billowes of the maine.

O Lord, me thought what paine it was to drowne,
What dreadfull noyfe of water in mine eares,
What fights of ugly death within mine eyes.

Me thoughts, I law a thoufand fearefull wrackes:
A thoufand men that filhes gnaw'd upon :

Wedges of Gold, great Anchors, heapes of Pearle,
Ineftimable Stones, unraveled Jewels,

All scattered in the bottome of the Sea:

Some lay in dead-mens Sculles, and in the holes
Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept
(As 'twere in (orne of eyes) reflecting Gemmes,
That woo'd the flimy bottome of the deepe,
And mock'd the dead bones that lay scattred by.

Keep. Had you such leyfure in the time of death,
To gaze upon thefe secrets of the deepe?

Cla. Me thought I had, and often did I strive
To yeeld the Gloft : but fill the envious Flood
Stop'd in my foule, and would not let it forth
To find the empty, vaft, and wand'ring ayre :
But mother'd it within my panting buike,
Who almost burft, to belch it in the Sea.

Keep. Awak'd you not in this fore Agony ?

Clar. No, no, my dreame was lengthen'd after life.
O then, began the Tempeft to my Soule,

I paft (me thought) the Melancholly flood,
With that fowre Ferric-man which Poets write of,
Vnto the Kingdome of perp. tuall Night.

The firft that there did greet my Stranger-foule,
Was my great Father-in-law renowned Warwicke,
Who spake alowd: What fcourge for P'urjurie,
Can this darke Monarchy afford falfe Clarence ?

And fo he vanifh'd. Then came wand'ring by,
A Shadow like an Angell, with bright hayre

Dabbel'd in blood, and he fhriek'd out alowd
Clarence is come, falfe, fleeting, per jur'd Clarence,

That ſtabb'd me in the field by Tewkesbury :
Seize on him Furies, take him unto Torment.

With that (me thought) a Legion of foule Fiends
Inviron'd me, and howled in mine eares
Such heddeous cries, that with the very Noife,
I (trembling) wak'd, and for a feafon after,
Could not beleeve, but that I was in Hell,
Suchterrible Impreflion made my Dreame.

Keep. No marvell Lord, though it affrighted you,
I am affaid (me thinkes) to heare you tell it.

Cla. Ah Keeper, Keeper, I have done theſe things
(That now give evidence against my Soule)

For Edwards ſake, and fee how he requites me.
O God ! if my deepe prayres cannot appeafe thee,
But thou wilt be aeng'd on my miſdeeds,

Yet execute thy wrath in me alone:

O spare my guiltleſſe Wife, and my poore children.

Keeper, I prythee fit by me a while,

My foule is heavy, and I faine would fleepe.

Keep. I will my Lord, God give your Grace good reſt.

Enter Brakenbury the Lieutenant.

Bra. Sorrow breaks Seafons, and repofing hours,
Makes the Night Morning, and the Noon-tide night:

Princes have but their Titles for their Glories,
An outward Honor, for an inward Toyle,
And for unfelt Imaginations

They often feele a world of reſtleſſe Cares :

So that betweene their Titles, and low name,

There's nothing differs but the outward fame.

Enter two Murthers.

1. Mur. Ho, who's here?

Bra. What would'ft thou Fellow ? And how camm'ſt
thou hither.

2. Mur. I would ſpeake with Clarence, and I came hither on my Legges.

Bra. What to brieſe?

1. 'Tis better (Sir) then to be tedious:

Let him fee our Commiffion, and talke no more. Read

Bra. I am in this, commanded to deliver

The Noble Duke of Clarence to your hands.

I will not reaſon what is meant hereby,

Becaufe I will be guiltleſſe from the meaning.

There lies the Duke aſſeep, and there the Keyes.

Ile to the King, and ſignify to him,

That thus I have reſign'd to you my charge.

Exit.

1 You may fir, 'tis a point of wildedome:
Fare you well.

2 What, ſhall we ſtab him as he ſleepes.

1 No: he'c'l ſay 'twas done cowardly, when he wakes.

2 Why he ſhall never wake, untill the great Induſment day.

1 Why then he'l ſay, we ſtab'd him ſleeping.

2 The urging of that word Iudgement, hath bred a
kinde of remorſe in me.

1 What ? art thou affaide ?

2 Not to kill him, having a Warrant.

But to be damn'd for killing him, from the which
No Warrant can defend me.

1 I thought thou had'ſt bin refolute.

2 So I am, to let him live.

1 Ile backe to the Duke of Glouſter, and tell him fo.

2 Nay, I prythee ſtay a little :

I hope this passionate humor of mine, will change,
It was went to hold me but while one tel's twenty.

1 How doſt thou feele thy ſelfe now?

2 Some certaine dregges of confience are yet with-
in me.

1 Remember our Reward, when the deed's done.

2 Come, he dies: I had forgot the Reward.

1 Where's thy confience now.

2 O in the Duke of Gloſters purſe.

1 When he opens his purſe to give us our Reward,
thy Conſience flyes out.

2 'Tis no matter, let us goe : There's ſew or none will
entertaine it.

1 What if it come to thee againe ?

2 He not meddle with it, it makes a man a Coward:
A man cannot ſteale, but it accuſeth him : A man cannot
Sweare, but it Checkes him : A man cannot lye with his
Neighbours Wife, but it deteſts him. 'Tis a blushing
flameſac'd ſpirit, that mutinies in a man's boſome : It
filles a man full of Obſtacles. It made me once reſtore a
Purſe of Gold that (by chance) I found : It beggars any
man that keepeſt it : It is turn'd out of Townes and Cit-
ties for a dangerous thing, and every man that meansto
live well, endevours to truſt to himſelfe, and live with-
out it.

Tis

Who fued to me for him? Who (in my wrath)
Kneel'd at my feet; and bid me be advis'd?
Who spoke of Brotherhood? who spoke in love?
Who told me how the poore foule did forfake
The mighty Warwicke, and did fight for me:
Who told me in the Field at Tewkesbury,
When Oxford had me downe, he refced me:
And faid deere Brother live, and be a King?
Who told me, when we both lay in the Field,
Frozen (almost) to death, how he did lap me
Even in his Garments, and did give himfelfe
(All thin and naked) to the numbe colde night?
All this from my Remembrance, brutifh wrath
Sinfully pluckt, and not a man of you
Had fo much grace to put it in my minde.
But when your Carters, or your waiting Vassalls
Have done a drunken Slaughter, and defac'd
The precious Image of our deere Redeemer,
You straight are on your knees for Pardon, pardon,
And I (unjuſtly too) muſt grant it you.
But for my Brother, not a man would ſpeake,
Nor I (ungracious) ſpeake unto my ſelfe
For him poore Soule. The proudeſt of you all,
Have beene beholding to him in his life :
Yet none of you, would once begge for his life.
O God ! I feare thy juſtice will take hold
On me, and you ; and mine, and yours for this.
Come Haffings helfe me to my Cloſſe.
Apoore Clarence. Exeunt fome with K. & Queen
Rich. This is the fruits of rafhnes; Markt you nor,
How that the Kindred of the Queene
Look'd pale, when they did heare of Clarence death?
O they did urge it ſtill unto the King,
God will revenge it. Come Lords will you goe,
To comfort Edward with our company ?
Buc. We wait upon your Grace.

Exeunt.

## Scæna Secunda.

Enter the old Dutchefle of Torke, with the two children of Clarence.

Edw. Good Grandam tell us, is our Father dead?
Dneb. No Boy.
Daugh. Why do you weepe ſo oft? And beat your Breſt
And cry, O Clarence, my unhappy Sonne?
Boj. Why do you looke on us, and ſhake your head,
And call us Orphans, Wretches, Caſtawayes,
If that our Noble Father were alive ?
Dut. My pretty Cofins, you miſtake me both,
I do lament the fickneſſe of the King,
As loath to toſe him, not your Fathers death :
It were loſt forrow to waile one that's loſt.
Boj. Then you conclude, (my Grandam) he is dead:
The King mine Vnkle is to blame for it.
God will revenge it, whom I will importune
With earneſt prayers, all to that effect.
Daugh. And fo will I.
Dut. Peace children, peace, the King doth love you well.
Incapable and shallow Innocents,
You cannot gueſſe who can'd your Fathers death.
Boy. Grandam we can : for my good Vnkle Glofter

Told me, the King provok'd to it by the Queene,
Devis'd impeachments to imprifon him;
And when my Vnkle told me fo, he wept,
And pittyed me, and kindly kiſſ my cheeke:
Bad me rely on him, as on my Father,
And he would love me deerely as a childe.
Dut. Ah ! that deceit ſhould ſteale ſuch gentle ſhape,
And with a vertuous Vizor hide deepe vice.
He is my fonne, I, and therein my ſhame,
Yet from my dugges, he drew not this deceit.
Boy. Thinke you my Vnkle did diſſemble Grandam ?
Dut. I Boy.
Boy. I cannot thinke it. Harke, what noife is this?

Enter the Queene with her haire about her ears,
Rivers & Dorſet after her.

Qu. Ah ! who ſhall hinder me to waile and weepe?
To chide my Fortune, and torment my ſelfe.
Ile joyne with blacke defpaire againſt my Soule,
And to my ſelfe become an enemie.
Dut. What meanes this Scene of rude impatience ?
Qu. To make an act of Tragicke violence.
Edward my Lord, thy Sonne, our King is dead.
Why grow the Branches, when the Roote is gone?
Why wither not the leaves that want their ſap ?
If you will live, Lament : if dye, be breeſe,
That our ſwift winged Soules may catch the Kings,
Or like obedient Subjeſts follow him,
To his new kingdome of ne're-changing night.
Dut. Ah, ſo much intereſt have I in thy ſorrow,
As I had Title in thy Noble Husband:
I have bewept a worthy Husbands death,
And liv'd with looking on his Images :
But now two Mirrors of his Princely ſemblance,
Are crack'd in pieces, by malignant death,
And I for comfort, have but one falſe Glafſe,
That greeves me, when I fee my ſhame in him.
Thou art a Widdow : yet thou art a Mother,
And haſt the comfort of thy Children deſt,
But death hathatch'd my Husband from mine Armes,
And pluckt two Crutches from my feeble hands,
Clarence, and Edward. O, what canſe have I,
(Thine being but a moity of my moatie)
To over-go thy woes, and droune my cries.

Boy. Ah Aunt ! you wept not for your Fathers death:
How can we ayde you with our Kindred teares ?
Daugh. Our fatherleſſe diſtreſſe was left unmoan'd,
Your widdow-dolour, likewise be unwep.
Qu. Give me no helpe in Lamentation,
I am not barren to bring forth complaints :
All Springs reduce their currents to mine eyes,
That I being govern'd by the waterie Moone,
May fend forth plenteouſteares to droune the World.
Ah, for my Husband, for my deere Lord Edward.
Chil. Ah for our Father, for our deere Lord Clarence.
Dut. Alas for both, both mine Edward and Clarence.
Qu. What ſtay had I but Edward? and hee's gone.
Chil. What ſtay had we but Clarence? and he's gone.
Dut. What ſtayes had I but they? and they are gone.
Qu. Was never widdow had ſo deere a loffe.
Chil. Were never Orphans had ſo deere a loffe.
Dut. Was never Mother had ſo deere a loffe.

Alas ! I am the Mother of theſe Greeſes.
Their woes are parcell'd, mine is generall.
She for an Edward weepes, and ſo do I :

185

Purfluing danger: as by proofe wee fee
The Water fwell before a boyft'rous ftrorme:
But leave it all to God, Whither away?

2. Marry we were ſent for to the Iuſtices.

3. And I was 1: Ile beare you company.

Exeunt.

## Scena Quarta.

Enter Arch-bishop, young Yorke, the Queene,
and she Dutchess.

Arch. Laſt night I heard they lay at Stony Stratford,
And at Northampton they do reſt to night:
To morrow, or next day, they will be here.

Dat. I long with all my heart to fee the Princes
I hope he is much growne ſince laſt I faw him.

Qu. But I heare no, they ſay my fonne of Yorke
Ha's almost overtane him in his growth.

Tor. I Mother, but I would not have it ſo.

Dat. Why my good Cofin, it is good to grow.

Tor. Grandam, one night as we did ſit at Supper,

My Vnkle Rivers talk'd how I did grow

More then my Brother. I, quoth my Vnkle Glouſter,
Small Herbes have grace, great Weeds do grow apes.

And fine, me thinkes I would not grow to ſaſt,

Becaufe Iweet Flowres are flow, and Weeds make haſt.

Dat. Good faith, good faith, the faying did not hold
In him that did obiect the fame to thee.

He was the wretched ſt thing when he was yong,
Solong a growing, and ſo ſoileured,
That it his rule were true, he should be gracious.

Tor. And I no doubt he is, my gracious Madam.

Dat. I hope he is, but yet let Mothers doubt.

Tor. Now by my troth, if I had beene remembred,
I could have given my Vnckles Grace, a flour,

To touch his growth, neerer then he toucht mine.

Dat. How my yong Yorke,

I prythee let me heare it.

Tor. Marry (they ſay) my Vnkle grew ſo ſaſt,

That he could gnaw a crutt at two hours old,
Twas full two yeares ere I could get a tooth.

Grandam, this would have beene a byting left.

Dat. I prythee pretty Yorke, who told thee this?

Tor. Grandam, his Nurſe.

Dat. His Nurſe? why ſhe was dead, ere ſwaft borne.

Tor. If twere not ſhe, I cannot tell who told me.

Qu. A parlous Boy; go to, you are too ſhrew'd.

Dat. Good Madam, be not angry with the Childe.

Qu. Pitchers have eares.

Enter a Meſſenger.

Arch. Heere comes a Meſſenger: What Newes?

Mef. Such newes my Lord, as grieves me to report.

Qu. How doth the Prince?

Mef. Well Madam, and in health.

Dui. What is thy Newes?

Mef. Lord Rivers, and Lord Grey,

Are ſent to Pomfret, and with them,
Sir Thomas Daughan, Prifoners.

Dat. Who hath committed them?

Mef. The mighty Dukes, Glouſter and Buckingham.

Arch. For what offence?

Mef. The ſumme of all I can, I have difſc'd:
Why, or for what, the Nobles were committed,
Is all unknowne to me, my gracious Lord.

Qu. Aye me! I fee the ruine of my Houſe:
The Tyger now hath feiz'd the gentle Hinde,
Inſulting Tiranny beginnes to Iutt
Vpon the innocent and a weleſſe THRONE:
Welcome Deſtruction, Blood, and Maffacre,
I fee (as in a Map) the end of all.

Dat. Accurſed, and unquiet wrangling dayes,
How many of you have mine eyes beheld?

My Husband loſt his life, to get the Crowne,
And often up and downe my ſonnes were toſt,
For me to joy, and weepe, their gaine and loſſe.

And being feated, and Domeſticke broyles
Cleane over-blowne, themſelves (the Conquerors.)

Make warre upon themſelves, Brother to Brother;

Bloud to bloud, ſelfe againſt ſelfe: O prepoſterous
And franticke outrage, end thy damned ſpleene,

Or let me dye, to looke on earth no more.

Qu. Come, come my Boy, we will to Sanctuary.
Madam, farewell.

Dat. Stay, I will go with you.

Qu. You have no canſe.

Arch. My gracious Lady go,

And thither beare your Treſure and your Goods,
For my part, Ile reſigne unto your Grace

The Seale I keepe, and ſo betide it me,

As well I tender you, and all of yours.

Go, Ile conduct you to the Sanctuary.

Exeunt.

## Aſtus Tertius. Scena Prima.

The Trumpets found.

Enter young Prince, the Dukes of Gloeſter, and Buckingham,
Lord Caruinau, with orbert.

Bue. Welcome sweet Prince to London,
To your Chamber.

Rich. Welcome deere Cofin, my thoughts Soveraigne
The weary way hath made you Melancholly.

Prin. No Vnkle, but our croſſes on the way,
Have made it tedious, wearisome, and heavy.
I want more Vnckles heere to welcome me.

Rich. Sweet Prince, the untainted vertue of your years
Hath not yet div'd into the Worlds deceit.

No more can you diſtilling up of a man,

Then of his outward ſhew, which God he knowes,
Seldome or never jumpeth with the heart.

Thofe Vnckles which you want, were dangerous.

Your Grace attended to their Sugted words,

But look'd not on the poſſon of their hearts.

God keepe you from them; and from ſuch ſalfc Friends.

Prin. God keepe me from ſalfc Friends,
But they were none.

Rich. My Lord, the Major of London comes to greet
you.

Enter Lord Major.

Lo. Major. God bleſſe your Grace, with health and
happy dayes.

Prin. I thanke you, good my Lord, and thank you all:

t

I

I thought my Mother, and my Brother Yorke,
Would long, ere this, have met us on the way.
Fie, what a Slug is Haſtings, that he comes not
To tell us, whether they will come, or no.

Enter Lord Haſtings.

Buck. And in good time, heere comes the fweating
Lord.

Prince. Welcome, my Lord: what, will our Mother
come?

Haſt. On what occasion God he knowes, not I,
The Queene your Mother, and your Brother Torke,
Have taken Sanctuary: The tender Prince
Would faine have come with me, to meet your Grace,
But by his Mother was perforce with-held.

Buc. Fie, what an indirect and peevish courfe
Is this of her? Lord Cardinall will your Grace
Perſwade the Queene, to ſend the Duke of Yorke
Vnto his Princely Brother prefentely?
If he deny, Lord Haſtings you goe with him,
And from her jealous Armes pluck him perſence.

Car. My Lord of Buckingham, if my weake Oratory
Can from his Mother winne the Duke of Yorke,
Anon expect him here; but if he be obdurate
To milde entreaties, God forbid
We ſhould inſinge the holy Privilege
Of bleſſed Sanctuary: not for all this Land,
Would I be guilty of ſo great a finne.

Buc. You are too ſenceſſe obſtinate, my Lord,
Too ceremonious, and traditionall.
Weigh it but with the groſſenſe of this Age,
You breake not Sanctuary, in feizing him:
The benefit thereof is alwayes granted
To thofe, whoſe dealings have deferv'd the place,
And thofe who have the wit to clayme the place:
This Prince hath neither claim'd it, nor deferv'd it,
Therefore, in mine opinion, cannot have it.
Then taking him from thence, that is not there,
You breake no Privilege, nor Charter there:
Oft have I heard of Sanctuary men,
But Sanctuary children, ne're till now.

Car. My Lord, you ſhall o're-re rule my mind for once.
Come on, Lord Haſtings, will you goe with me?

Haſt. I goe, my Lord. Exit Cardinall and Haſtings.

Prin. Good Lords, make all the ſpeedy haſt you may.
Say, Vnckle Gloceſſer, if our Brother come,
Where ſhall we fojorne, till our Coronation?

Glo. Where it think't beſt unto your Royall ſelfe.

If I may confaile you, come day or two
Your Highneſſe shall repofe you at the Tower:
Then where you pleafe, and ſhall be thought moſt fit
For your beſt health, and recreation.

Prin. I do not like the Tower, of any place;

Did Julius Caſar build that place, my Lord?

Buc. He did, my gracious Lord, begin that place,
Which ſince, ſucceeding Ages have re-edify'd.

Prin. Is it upon record for eſſe reported

Suſeſſively from age to age, he built it?

Buc. Vpon record, my gracious Lord.

Prin. But ſay, my Lord, it were not regiſtred,
Methinkes the truth should live from age to age,
As 'twere retail'd to all poſterity,
Even to the generall ending day.

Glo. So wife, so young, they ſay doe never live long.

Prin. What ſay you, Vnckle?

Glo. I ſay, without Characters, Fame lives long.
Thus, like the formall Vice, Iniquity,
I moralize two meanings in one word.

aſide.

Prin. That Julius Caſar was a famous man;
With what his Valour did enrieh his Wit,
His Wit ſet downe, to make his Valour live:
Death makes no Conqueſt of his Conqueror,
For now he lives in Fame, though not in Life.
Ile tell you what, my Couſin Buckingham.

Buc. What, my gracious Lord?

Prin. And if I live untill I be a man,
Ile win our ancient Right in France againe,
Or dye a Souldier, as I liv'd a King.

Glo. Short Summers lightly have a forward Spring.

Enter young Yorke, Haſtings, and Cardinall.

Buck. Now in good time, heere comes the Duke of
Yorke.

Prince. Richard of Yorke, how fares our Noble Brother?

Tor. Well, my deare Lord, ſo muſt I call you now.

Prin. I, Brother, to our griefe as it is yours:
Too late he dy'd, that might have kept that Title,
Which by his death hath loft much Majesty.

Glo. How fares our Conſin, Noble Lord of Yorke?

Tor. I thank you, gentle Vnckle. O my Lord,
You ſaid, that idle Wears are ſaft in growth:
The Prince, my Brother, hath out-growne me farre.

Glo. He hath, my Lord.

Tor. And therefore is he idle?

Glo. Oh my faire Couſin, I muſt not ſay so.

Tor. Then he is more beholding to you, then I.

Glo. He may command me as my Soveraigne,
But you have power in me, as in a Kinaſman.

Tor. I pray you, Vnckle, give me this Dagger.

Glo. My Dagger, little Couſin? with all my heart.

Prin. A Begger, Brother?

Tor. Of my kind Vnckle, that I know will give,
And being a Toy, it is no griefe to give.

Glo. A greater gift then that, Ile give my Couſin.

Tor. A greater gift? O, that's the Sword to it.

Glo. I, gentle Couſin, were it light enough.

Tor. O then I fee, you will part but with light gifts,
In weightier things you'l ſay a Begger nay.

Glo. It is too weighty for your Grace to weare.

Tor. I weigh it lightly, were it heavier.

Glo. What, would you have my Weapon, little Lord?

Tor. I would that I might thanke you, as you call me.

Glo. How?

Tor. Little.

Prin. My Lord of Yorke will ſtill be croſſe in taſe:
Vnckle, your Grace knowes how to beare with him.

Tor. You meane to beare me, not to beare with me;
Vnckle, my Brother mockes both you and me,
Because that I am little, like an Ape,
He thinkes that you should beare me on your shoulders.

Buc. With what a ſharpe provided wit he reaſons:
To mitigate the ſcorne he gives his Vnckle,
He prettily and aptly taunts himſelfe:
So cunning, and fo young, is woudefulfull.

Glo. My Lord, wift pleafe you paffe along?
My ſelfe, and my good Conſin Buckingham,
Will to your Mother, to entreat of her

To meet you at the Tower, and welcome you.

Tor. What,

187

Tor. What, will you goe unto the Tower, my Lord?
Priu. My Lord Protector will have it so.
Tor. I shall not fleee in quiet at the Tower.
Glo. Why, what should you feare?
Tor. Marry, my Vnckle Clarence angry Ghoft:
My Grandam told me he was murther'd there.
Priu. I feare no Vnckles dead.
Glo. Nor none that live, I hope.
Priu. And if they live, I hope I need not feare.
But come my Lord: and with a heavy heart,
Thinking on them, goe I unto the Tower.
Exeunt Prince, Torke, Haſtings, and Dorſet.

Manent Richard, Buckingham, and Catesby.

Buc. Thinke you, my Lord, this little prating Torke
Was not incenſed by his ſubtle Mother,
To taunt and ſorne you thus opprobriouſly?
Glo. No doubt, no doubt: Oh'tis a perillous Boy,
Bold, ſuicke, ingenious, ſorward, capable;
Hee is all the Mothers, from the top to toe.

Buc. Well, let them reſt: Come hither Catesby,
Thou art ſworne as deepely to effect what we intend,
As cleofly to conceale what we impart:
Thou know't our reaſons urg'd upon the way,
What think't thou? is it not an eafy matter,
To make Williams Lord Haſtings of our minde,
For the inſtallment of this Noble Duke
In the Seat Royall of this famous ile?

Cates. He for his fathers ſake ſo loves the Prince,
That he will not be wonne to ought againſt him.

Buc. What think't thou then of Stanley? Will not hee?

Cates. Hee will doe all in all as Haſtings doth.

Buc. Well then, no more but this:

Goe gentle Catesby, and as it were farre off,
Sound thou Lord Haſtings,

How he doth ſtand affected to our purpofe,
And ſammon him to morrow to the Tower,
To hit about the Coronation.

If thou doth ſtind him, tractable to us,
Encourage him, and tell him all our reaſons:
If he be leaden, ycie, cold, unwilling,
Be thou to ſoo, and ſo breake off the talke,
And give us notice of his inclination:
For we to morrow hold divided Councils,
Wherein thy ſelfe ſhalt highly be employ'd.

Rich. Commend me to Lord William: tell him (Catesby)
His ancient Knot of dangerous Adverſaries,
To morrow are let blood at Pormſet Caſſe,
And bid my Lord, for joy of this good newes,

Rich. Shall we hear from you, Catesby, were we ſleep?

Rich. Give Miftreſſe Shore one gentle Kiffle the more,

Buc. Good Catesby, goe effect this buſineſſe foundly.

Cates. My good Lords both, with all the heed I can.

Rich. You shall, my Lord.

Cates. You shall, my Lord.

Rich. At Crosby Houſe, there ſhall you find us both?

Exit Catesby.

Buc. Now, my Lord,

What ſhall wee doe, if wee perceive

Lord Haſtings will not yeeld to our Complots?

Rich. Chop off his Head.

Something wee will determine:

And looke when I am King, claime thou of me

The Earldome of Hereford, and all the moveables

Whereof the King, my Brother, was poſſed.

Buc. Ile claime that promife at your Graces hand.

Rich. And looke to have it yeelded with all kindneſſe.
Come, let us ſuppe betimes, that afterwards

Wee may digeſt our complots in ſome forme.

Exeunt.

## Scena Secunda.

Enter a Messenger to the Doore of Haſtings.

Mef. My Lord, my Lord.

Haſt. Who knockes?

Mef. One from the Lord Stanley.

Haſt. What is't a Clocke?

Mef. Upon the ſtroke of four.

Enter Lords Haſtings,

Haſt. Cannot my Lord Staſſley ſleepe theſe tedious
Nights?

Mef. So it appears, by that I have to ſay:

Firſt, he commends him to your Noble ſelfe.

Haſt. What then?

Mef. Then certifies your Lordſhip, that this Night
He dreamt, the Bore had raf'd off his Helme:

Befides, he ſayes there are two Councils kept;

And that may be determin'd at the one,

Which may make you and him to rue at th'other.

Therefore he ſends to know your Lordſhips pleasure,
If you will prefently take Horſe with him,

And with all ſpeed poſt with him toward the North,
To ſhun the danger that his Soule divines.

Haſt. Goe fellow, goe returne unto thy Lord,

Bid him not ſeare the ſeparated Councell:

His Honnor and my ſelfe are at the one,

And at the other, is my good friend Catesby;

Where nothing can proceede, that toucheth us,

Whereof I ſhall not have intelligence:

Tell him his Feares are ſhallow, without inſtance.

And for his Dreames, I wonder hee's ſo ſimple,

To truſt the mock'ry of unquiet ſlumbers.

To flye the Bore, before the Bore purſues,

Were to incenſe the Bore to follow us,

And make purſuit, where he did meane no chafe.

Goe, bid thy Maſter rife, and come to me,

And we will both together to the Tower,

Where he ſhall fee the Bore will uſe us kindly.

Mef. Ile my Lord, and tell him what you ſay.

Exit.

Enter Catesby.

Cates. Many good morrowes to my Noble Lord.

Haſt. Good morrow Catesby, you are early ſtirring:

What newes, what newes, in this our tott'ring State?

Cates. It is a reeling World indeed, my Lord:

And I believe, will never ſtand upright,

Till Richard weare the Garland of the Reaſme.

Haſt. How weare the Garland?

Doelt thou meane the Crowne?

Cates. I, my good Lord.

Haſt. Ile have this Crown of mine cut ſo my shoulders,
Before I fee the Crowne ſo ſoule miſ-plac'd:

But canſt thou gueſſe, that he doth ayme at it?

Cates. I.

t2

Enter Richard, and Buckingham, in rotten Armour,
marvellous ill-favoured.

Richard, Come Coufin,

Canft thou quake,and change thy colour,
Murther thy breath in middle of a word,
And then againe begin,and stop againe,
As if thou were dittraught,and mad with terror?

Buc. Tut,I can counterfeit the deepe Traeedian,
Speake,and looke backe,and prie on every fide,
Tremble and flart at wagging of a Straw:
Intending deepe fufpition,gatfly Lookes:
Are at my fervice,like enforced Smiles;
And both are ready in their Offices,
At any time to grace my Stratagemes.
But what, is Catesby, gone?

Rich. He is, and fee he brings the Maior along.

Enter the Major, and Catesby.

Buck, Lord Major.

Rich. Looke to the Draw-Bridge there.

Buc. Hearke,a Drumme.

Rich. Catesby, o're-looke the Walls.

Buc. Lord Major, the reafon we have ſent.

Rich. Looke back,defend three,here are Enemies.

Buc. God and our Innocency defend, and guard us.

Enter Lovell and Ratcliffe, with Haſtings Head.

Rich. Be patient, they are friends: Ratcliffe, and Lovell.

Lov. Here is the Head of that ignoble Traitor,
The dangerous and unfuſpecte Haſtings.

Rich. So deare I lov'd the man, that I muſt weepe:
I tooke him for the plaineſt harmeleſſe Creature,
That breath'd upon the Earth, a Chriſtian:
Made him my Booke, wherein my Soule recorded
The Hiftory of all her ſecret thoughts.

So ſmooth he daſb'd his Vice with ſhow of Vertue,
That his apparant open Guilt omitted,
I meane his Converſation with Sbores Wife,
He liv'd from all atrainder of ſuſpects.

Buc. Well, well, he was the covertſt ſheltred Traitor
That ever liv'd.

Would you imagine, or almoſt beleeve,
Wert not, that by great prefervation
We live to tell it, that the ſubſill Traitor
This day had plotted, in the Councell-Houſe,
To murther me, and my good Lord of Glofter.

Ma. Had he done ſo?

Rich. What thinke you we are Turkes, or Infideſs?
Or that we would, againſt the forme of Law,
Proceed thus rafhly in the Villaines death,
But that the extreme perill of the cafe,
The Peace of England, and our Perſons ſaſſety,
Enforc'd us to this Execution.

Ma. Now faire befall you, he deferv'd his death,
And your good Graces both have well proceeded,
To warne falſe Traitors from the like Attempts.

Buc. I never look'd for better at his hands,
After he once fell in with Miftrefſe Shore:
Yet had we not determin'd he should dye,
Vntill your Lordſhip came to fee his end,
Which now the loving haſte of theſe our friends,
Something againſt our meanings, have prevented;
Becaufe, my Lord, I would have had you heard
The Traitor ſpeake, and timorouſly confefſe
The manner and the purpofe of his Treafons:

That you might well have signify'd the fame
Vnto the Citizens, who haply may
Mifconſter us in him, and waile his death.

Ma. But, my good Lord, your Graces words ſhall ſerve,
As well as I had ſeene, and heard him ſpeake:
And doe not doubt, right Noble Princes both,
But Ile acquaint our dutious Citizens
With all your juſt proceedings in this cafe.

Rich. And to that end we wifh'd your Lordſhip here,
T'avoid the Cenſures of the carping World.

Buc. Which ſince you come too late of our intent,
Yet witneſſe what you heare we did intend:
And ſo, my good Lord Major, we bid farewell.

Exit Major.

Rich. Goe after, after, Conſin Buckingham.
The Major towards Guild-Hall hyes him in all poſſe:
There, at your meeteſt vantage of the time,
Inferre the Baſtary of Edwards Children:
Tell them, how Edward put to death a Citizen,
Onely for ſaying, he would make his Sonne
Heire to the Crowne, meaning indeed his Houſe,
Which, by the Signe thereof, was tearmed ſo.
Moreover, urge his hatefull LUXURy,
And beaſtall appetite in change of Luft,
Which ſtretcſt unto their ſeruants, Daughters, Wives,
Even where his raging eye, or favage heart,
Without controll, luſted to make a prey.

Nay for a neeſt, thus farre come neere my Perfon:
Tell them, when that my Mother went with Child
Of that inflatiate Edward, Noble Torke,

My Princely Father, then had Warres in France,
And by true computation of the time,
Found, that the life was not his begot:
Which well appeared in his Lineaments,
Being nothing like the Noble Duke, my Father:
Yet touch this ſparingly, as 'twere farre off,
Becaufe, my Lord, you know my Mother lives.

Buc. Doubt not, my Lord, He play the Orator,
As if the Golden Fee, for which I plead,
Were for my ſelfe; and ſo, my Lord, adue.

Rich. If you thrive wel, bring them to Baynards Cattle,
Where you ſhall finde me well accompanied
With reverend Fathers, and well-learned Bifhops.

Buc. I goe, and towards three or ſoure a Clocke.
Looke for the Newes that the Guild-Hall affords.

Exit Buckingham.

Rich. Goe Lovell with all ſpeed to Doctor Shaw,
Goe to thyself, Beuker, bid them both
Meet me within this houre at Baynards Cattle.
Now will I goe to take ſome privy order,
To draw the Brats of Clavence out of ſight,
And to give order, that no manner perſon
Have any time recourse unto the Princes.

Exeunt.

Exeunt.

Enter a Scrivener.

Scr. Here is the Indictment of the good Lord Haſtings,
Which in a ſer Hand fairely is engroſſ'd,
That it may be to day read or e in Panles.
And marke how well the ſequell hangs together:
Eleven houres I have ſpent to write it over,
For yeſter-night by Catesby was it ſent me,
The Precedent was full as long a doing,
And yet within theſe five houres Haſtings liv'd,
Vntainted, unexamin'd, free, at liberty.
Here's a good World the while; who is ſo großle,
That cannot fee this palpable device?

Yet

Yet who so bold, but fayes he fees it not?
Bad is the World, and all will come to nought,
When such ill dealing must be feene in thought:
Exits.

Enter Richard and Buckingham at several Doors.

Rich. How now, how now, what say the Citizens?
Buck. Now by the holy Mother of our Lord,
The Citizens are mum, say not a word.

Rich. Toucht you the Baftardy of Edwards Children?
Buc. I did, with his Contract with Lady Lucy,

And his Contract by Deputy in France,
Th'unfatiate greedineſſe of his defire,
And his enforcement of the City Wives,
His Tyranny for Trifles, his owne Baſtardy,
Asbeing got your Father then in France,
And his reſemblance, being not like the Duke.

Withall, I did inferre your Lineaments,
Being the right Idea of your Father,
Both in your forme, and Noblenſe of Minde:
Layd open all your Victories in Scotland,
Your Difcipline in Warre, Wifdome in Peace,
Your Bounty, Vertue, faire Humility:
Indeed, left nothing fitting for your purpofe,
Vantoucht, or fleightly handled in diſcourſe.
And when my Oratory drew toward end,
I bid them that did love their Countries good,
Cry, God faſe Richard, Englands Royall King,

Rich. And did they fo?

Buc. No, so God helpe me, they ſpoke not a word,
But like dumbe Statues, or breathing Stones,
Star'd each on other, and look'd deadly pale:
Which when I ſaw, I reprehended them,
And ask'd the Major, what meant this wilſull ſilence?

His anſwer was, the people were not uſed
To be ſpoke to, but by the Recorder.

Then he was urg'd to tell my Tale againes:
Thus ſayth the Duke, thus hath the Duke inferr'd,
But nothing ſpoke, in warrant from himſelfe.

When he had done, ſome followers of mine owne,
At lower end of the Hall, hurld up their Caps,
And ſome tenne voyces cry'd, God ſave King Richard:

And thus I took the vantage of that ſew few.
Thanks gentle Citizens, and friends, quoth I,

This generall applaſe, and cheareſt ſhowt,
Argues your wifdome, and your love to Richard:

And even here brake off, and came away.

Rich. What tongue-leſſe Blockes were they,
Would they not ſpeak?

Will not the Major then, and his Brethren, come?

Rich. The Major is here at hand; intend ſome ſeare,
Be not you ſpoke with, but by mighty ſuit:

And looke you get a Prayer-Booke in your hand,
And ſtand betweene two Church-men, good my Lord,
For on that ground He make a holy Defeant:

And be not easily wonne to our requeſts,
Play the Maids part, ſtill anſwer nays, and take it.

Rich. I goe and if you plead as well for them,
As I can ſay to thee for my ſelfe,

No doubt we bring it to a happy iſſue.

Buc. Go, go up to the Leads, the Lord Major knocks.

Enter the Major and Citizens.

Welcome, my Lord, I dance attendance here,
I thinke the Duke will not be ſpoke withall.

Enter Catesby.

Buc. Now Catesby, what fayes your Lord to my requeſt?

Cates. He doth entreat your Grace, my Noble Lord,
To vifit him to morrow, or next day:

He is within, with two right reverend Fathers,
Divinely bent to Meditation,

And in no Worldly ſuites would he be mov'd,
To draw him from his holy Exercife.

Buc. Returne, good Catesby, to the gracious Duke,
Tell him, my ſelfe, the Major and Aldermen,
In deepe defignes, in matter of great moment,
No leſſe importing then our generall good,

Are come to have ſome conference with his Grace.

Cates. Ile ſignifie so much unto him ſtraight. Exit.

Buc. Ah ha, my Lord, this Prince is not an Edward,

He is not lulling on a lewd Love-Bed:
But on his Knees, at Meditation:

Not dallying with a Brace of Curtizans,

But meditating with two deepe Divines:

Not fleeping, to engroſſe his idle Body,

But praying, to enrich his watchfull Soule.

Happy were England, would this vertuous Prince
Take on his Grace the Soveraignty thereof.

But ſure I ſeare we shall not winne him to it.

Major. Marry God, defend his Grace ſhould ſay us
nay.

Buc. I ſeare he will: here Catesby comes againe.

Enter Catesby.

Now Catesby, what fayes his Grace?

Cates. He wonders to what end you have affembled

Such troops of Citizens, to come to him.

His Grace not being warn'd thereof before:

He ſeares, my Lord, you meane no good to him.

Buc. Sorry I am, my Noble Coutin ſhould
Sufpect me, that I meane no good to him:

By Heaven, we come to him in perſit love,

And to once more returne, and tell his Grace.

When holy and devout Religious men

Are at their Beades, 'tis much to draw them thence,
So ſweet is zealous Contemplation.

Enter Richard aloft, betweene two Bilhops.

Ma. See where his Grace ſtands, tween'two Clergy me.

Buc. Two Props of Vertue, for a Chriſtian Prince,

To ſlay him from the fall of Vanity:

And ſee a Booke of Prayer in his hand,

True Ornaments to know a holy man.

Famous Plantagenet, moſt gracious Prince,

Lend favourable care to our requeſts,

And pardon us the interruption

Of thy Devotion, and right Chriſtian Zeale.

Rich. My Lord, there needs no ſuch Apology:

I doe beſeech your Grace to pardon me,

Who earneſt in the ſervice of God,

Deferr'd the viſitation of my friends.

But leaving this, what is your Graces pleafure?

Buc. Even that (I hope) which pleafeth God above,
And all good men, of this ungovern'd Ile.

Rich. I doe ſuppect I have done ſome offence,
That ſemes diſgracious in the Cities eye,
And that you come to reprehend my ignorance.

Buc. You

Buc. You have, my Lord:
Would it might pleate your Grace,
On our entreaties, to amend your fault.

Rich. Elle wherefore breathe I in a Christian Land.
Buc. Know then, it is your fault, that you reflige

The Supreme Seat, the Throne Majestical,
The Sceptred Office of your Ancestors,
Your State of Fortune, and your Deaw of Birth,
The Lineall Glory of your Royall House,
To the corruption of a blemifh Stock:

Whiles in the mildneſſe of your ſleepie thoughts,
(Which here we waken to our Countries good.)

The Noble Ile doth want his proper Limmes:

His Face defac'd with skarres of Infamy,
His Royall Stock graſſt with ignoble Plants,
And almost ſhouldred in the ſwallowing Gulſe
Of darke Forgetſulneſſe, and deepe Oblivion.

Which to recure, we heartily ſolicite:

Your gracious ſelfe to take on you the charge
And Kingly Governement of this your Land:

Not as Protector, Steward, Subſtitute,

Or lowly Factor, for an others gaine;

But as ſucceſſively, from Blood to Blood,

Your Right of Birth, your Empiry, your owne.

For this, conſorred with the Citizens,

Your very Worſhipſall and loving friends,

And by their vehement inſtigation,

In this jult Caufe come I to move your Grace.

Rich. I cannot tell, if to depart in filence,

Or bitterly to ſpeak in your reproofe,

Beſt fitſeth my Degree, or your Condition.

For not to anſwer, you might haply thinke,

Tongue-ty'd Ambition, not replying, yeelded

To beare the Golden Yoake of Soveraigntie,

Which fondly you would here impoſe on me.

If to reprove you for this ſuit of yours,

So ſeafon'd with your faithfull love to me,

Then on the other ſide I check'd my friends.

Therefore to ſpeak, and to avoid the firſt,

And then in ſpeaking, not to incurre the laſt,

Definitively thus I anſwer you.

Your love deferves my thankes, but my defert

Vnmeritable, ſhunnes your high requeſt.

Firſt, if all Obſtacles were cut away,

And that my Path were even to the Crowne,

As the ripe Revenue, and due of Birth:

Yet ſo much is my poverty of ſpirit,

So mighty, and ſo many my defects,

That I would rather hide me from my Greatneſſe,
Being a Barke to brooke no mighty Sea,

Then in my Greatneſſe covet to be hid,

And in the vapour of my Glory ſmother'd.

But God be thank'd, there is no need of me,

And much I need to helpe you, were there need:

The Royall Tree hath left us Royall Fruit,

Which mellow'd by the ſtealing howres of time,

Will well become the Seat of Majefity,

And make us (no doubt) happy by his Reigne.

On him I lay that, you would lay on me,

The Right and Fortune of his happy Starres,

Which God defend that I should wring from him.

Buc. My Lord, this argues Conſcience in your Grace,
But the reſpects thereof are nice, and triviall,
All circumſtances well confidered.

You ſay, that Edward is your Brothers Sonne,

So ſay we too, but not by Edwards Wife:

For firſt was he contract to Lady Lyncy,
Your Mother lives a Witneſſe to his Vow;

And afterward by ſubſtitute betroth'd

To Bona, Sifter to the King of France.

Theſe both put off, a poore Petitioner,

A Care-cras'd Mother to a many Sonnes,

A Beauty-waining, and diſtrefſed Widow,

Even in the after-noone of her beſt dayes,
Made prize and purchase of his wanton Eye,
Seduc'd the pitch, and height of his degree,
To bafe decienſion, and loath'd Bigamie.

By her, in his unlawfull Bed, he got

This Edward, whom our Manners call the Prince.

More bitterly could I exſpofulate,

Save that for reverence to ſome alive,

I give a ſparing limit to my Tongue.

Then good, my Lord, take to your Royall ſelfe

This proffer'd benefit of Dignity:

If not to bleſſe us and the Land withall,

Yet to draw forth your Noble Anceſtry,

From the corruption of abufing times,

Vnto a Lineall true derived courſe.

Maior. Do good my Lord, your Citizens entreat you.

Buc. Refuse not, mighty Lord, this proffer'd love.

Cates. O maketh them joy full, grant their lawfull ſuit.

Rich. Alas, why would you heape this Care on me?

I am unfit for State, and Majefity:

I doe beſeech you take it notamiffle,

I cannot, nor I will not yeeld to you.

Buc. If you ſe refuse it, as in love and zeale,

Loth to depoſe the Child your Brothers Sonne,

As well we know your tenderneſſe of heart,

And gentle, kindle, effeminate remorſe,

Which we have noted in you to your Kindred,

And equally indeede to all Eſtates:

Yet know, where you accept our ſuit, or no,

Your Brothers Sonne ſhall never reigne our King,

But we will plant ſome other in the Throne,

To the diſgrace and downe-fall of your Houſe:

And in this revolution here we leave you.

Come Citizens, we will entreat no more.

Exeunt.

Cates. Call him againe, aweet Prince, accept their ſuit:

If you deny them, all the Land will rue it.

Rich. Will you enforce me to a world of Cares?

Call them againe, I am not made of Stones,

But penetrable to your kinde entreaties,

Albeit againſt my Conſcience and my Soule.

Enter Buckingham, and the reſt.

Couſin of Buckingham, and ſage grave men,

Since you will buckle fortune on my back,

To beare her burthen, whether, I will or no,

I muſt have patience to endure the Load:

But if black Scandall, or foule-fac'd Reproach,

Attand the ſequell of your Impofition,

Your meere enforcement (shall acquittrance me

From all the impure blots and ſtaynes thereof,

For God doth know, and you may partly fee,

How farre I am from the deſire of this.

Maior. God bleſſe your Grace, wee fee it, and will
fay it.

Rich. In faying ſo, you ſhall but ſay the truth.

Buc. Then I falute you with this Royall Title,
Long live King Richard, Englands worthy King.

All. Amen.

Buc. To morrow may it pleafe you to be Crown'd

Rich. Even when you pleafe, for you will have it so.

Buck, To

Bne. To morrow then we will attend your Grace,
And to moft joyfully we take our leave.

Rich. Come, let us to our holy Worke againe.

Farewell my Cousins, farewell gentle friends.

Exeunt.

Actus Quartus. Scæna Prima.

Enter the Queene, Anne Duchesse of Gloucester, the
Duchess of Yorke, and Marquesse Dorset.

Duch. Yorke. Who meetes us here?

My Neece Flantagener,
Led in the hand of her kind Aunt of Glofter?
Now, for my Life, shee's wandring to the Tower,
On pure hearts love, to greet the tender Prince.
Daughter, well met.

An. God give your Graces both a happy
And a joyfull time of day.

Qu. As much to you, good Sifter: whither away?

An. No farther then the Tower, and as I gueſſe,
Vpon the like devotion as your ſelves,
To gratulate the gentle Princes there.

Lz. Kind Sifter thankes, wee'le enter all together:

Enter the Lieutenant.

And in good time, here the Lieutenant comes.

Mailer Lieutenant, pray you, by your leave,

How doth the Prince, and your young Sonne of Torke?

Lieu. Right well, deare Madame: by your patience,
I may not ſuffer you to viſit them,

The King hath briefly charg'd the contrary.

Qu. The King who's that?

Liu. I meane, the Lord ProteCTOR.

Qu. The Lord protecſt him from that Kingly Title.
Hath beſet bounds betweene their love, and me?

I am their Mother, who ſhall barre me from them?

Duch. Yorke. I am their Fathers Mother, I will fee
them.

An. Their Aunt I am in law, in love their Mother:

Then bring me to their fightſ, Ile beare thy blame,
And take thy Office from thee, on my perill.

Lieu. No, Madam, no, I may not leave it ſo:

I am bound by Oath, and therefore pardon me.

Exit Lieutenant.

Enter Stanley.

Stan. Let me but meet you Ladies one howre hence,
And Ile falute your Grace of Yorke as Mother,
And reverend looker on of two faire Queenes.
Come Madame, you muſt ſtraight to Weſtminſter,
There to be crowned Riſhards Royall Queene.

Qu. Ah, cut my Lace a ſunder,

That my pent heart may have ſome ſcope to beat,
Or eſſe I woone with this dead-killing newes.

An. Deſpightfull tidings, O unpleasing newes.
Dorſ. Be of good cheare: Mother, how fares your
Grace?

Qu. O Dorſet, ſpeake not to me, get thee gone,
Death and Deftruction dogges thee at thy heeles,
Thy Mothers Name is ominous to Children.

If thou wilt out-ſtrip Death, goe croſſe the Seas,

And live with Richmond, from the reach of Hell.
Goe hye thee, hye thee from this ſlaughter-houſe,
Left thou encreafe the number of the dead,
And make me dye the thrall of Margarets Curſe,
Nor Mother, Wife, nor Englands counted Queene.

Stan. Full of wife care, is this your counſaile, Madame:
Take all the ſwift advantage of the howres:
You ſhall have Letters from me to my Sonne.
In your behalſe, to meet you on the way:
Be not ta' ne're tardy by unwife delay.

Duc. Tor. O ill diſperſing Winde of Mifery,
O my accurſed Wombe, the Bed of Death:
A Cockatrice haſt thou hatcht to the World,
Whofe unavoided Eye is murtherous.

Stan. Come, Madame, come, I in all haſte was ſent.

An. And I with all unwillingneſſe will goe.
O would to God, that the inclusive Verge
Of Golden Mettall, that muſt round my Brow,
Were red hot Steele, to ſeare me to the Braines,
Anoynted let me be with deadly Veno ne,
And dye ere men can ſay, God ſave the Queene.

Qu. Goe, goe, poore foule, I envie not thy glory,
To feed my humor, with thy ſelſe no harme.

An. No: why? When he that is my Husband now,
Cameto me, as I follow'd Henries Corſe,

When ſcare the blood was well waſht from his hands,
Which influed from my other Angell Husband,
And that deare Saint, which then I weeping follow'd:
O, when I ſay, I look'd on Richards Face,

This was my Wif: Be thou (quoth I) accuſt,
For making me, to young, ſo old a Widow:

And when thou wed'ſt, let forrow haunt thy Bed:
And be thy Wife, if any be ſo mad,

More miſerable, by the Life of thee,

Then thou haſt made me, by my deare Lords death,

Loe, ere I can repeat this Curſe againe,

Within ſo ſmall a time, my Womans heart

Groſſely grew captive to his honey words,

And prov'd the ſubject of mine owne Soules,

Curſe, which hitherto hath held mine eyes from reſt:

For never yet one howre in his Bed

Did I enjoy the golden deaw of ſleepe,

But with his timorous Dreames was it still awak'd.

Besides, he hates me for my Father Warwicks,

And will (no doubt) ſhortly be rid of me.

Qu. Poore heart a dieu, I pity thy complaining.

An. No more, then with my ſoule I mourne for
yours.

Dorſ. Farewell, thou wofull welcommer of glory.

Anne. Adieu, poore ſoule, that tak'it thy leave
of it,

Duc. Torke. Go to Richmond, to Dorſet, to Anne, to the

Queene, and good fortune guide thee,
Go thou to Richard, and good Angels tend thee,

Go thou to Sanctuary, and good thoughts poſſeſſe thee;

I to my Grave, where peace and reſt lye with mee.

Eighty odde yeeres of forrow have I ſeene,

And each howres joy wrackt with a weeke of teene.

Qu. Stay, yet looke backe with me unto the Tower.

Pitty, you ancient Stones, thate tender Babes,

Whom Envie hath immur'd within your Walls,

Rough Cradle for ſuch little pretty ones,

Rude ragged Nurſe, old ſullen Play-fellow,

For tender Princes ſule my Babies well;

So foolish ſorrowes bids your ſtones farewell.

Exeunt.

Sound

## Scæna Secunda.

Sound a Sonnet. Enter Richard in pompe, Buckingham, Catesby, Ratcliffe, Lovel.

Rich. Stand all apart. Coufin of Buckingham.

Buck. My gracious Soveraigne.

Rich. Give me thy hand. Sound.

Thus high, by thy advice, and thy afflentance,
Is King Richard leated:

But shall we wear these Glories for a day?
Or shall they laft, and we rejoyce in them?

Buc. Still live they, and for ever let them laft.

Rich. Ah Buckingham, now doe I play the Touch,

To try if thou be currant Gold indeed:

Young Edward lives, thinke now what I would speake.

Buck. Say on my loving Lord.

Rich. Why Buckingham, I say I would be King.

Buc. Why so you are, my thrice-renowned Lord.

Rich. Ha ? am I King ? 'tis so: but Edward lives.

Buc. True, Noble Prince.

Rich. O bitter conference!

That Edward still should live true Noble Prince.

Coufin, thou waft not wont to be so dull.

Shall I be plaine? I with the Baftards dead,
And I would have it suddenly perform'd.

What fay'ft thou now ? speake suddenly, be briefe.

Buc. Your Grace may doe your pleasure.

Rich. Tut, tut, thou art all Ice, thy kindneſſe freezes:

Say, have I thy confent, that they ſhall dye?

Bu. Give me fome little breath, fome pawle, deare Lord,

Before I politively speake in this:

I will refolve you herein preſently. Exit Buck.

Cates. The King is angry, fee he gnawes his Lippe.

Rich. I will converſe with Iron-witted Fooles,

And unrefſpective Boyes: none are for me,

That looke into me with confidente eyes,

High-reaching Buckingham growes circumſpect.

Boy.

Page. My Lord.

Rich. Know'ft thou not any, whom corrupting Gold

Will tempt unto a cloſe exploit of Death?

Page. I know a difcontented Gentleman.

Whofe humble meanes match not his haughty ſpirit:

Gold were as good as twenty Orators,

And will (no doubt) tempt him to any thing.

Rich. What is his Name?

Fag. His Name, my Lord, is Tírrell.

Rich. I partly know the man: goe call him hither,

Boy. Exit.

The deepc revolving witty Buckingham,

No more shall be the neighbor to my counfailes.

Hath he ſo long held out with me, untyr'd,

And flops he now for breath? Well, be it so.

### Enter Stanley.

How now, Lord Stanley, what's the newes?

Stanley. Know my loving Lord, the Marqueffe Dorſet
As I heare, is fled to Richmond,

In the parts where he abides.

Rich. Come hither Catesby, rumor it abroad,
That Anne my Wife is very grievous ſicke,

I will take order for her keeping cloſe.

Inquire me out ſome meane poore Gentleman,

Whom I will marry ſtraight to Clarence Daughters.

The Boy is ſoſilſh, and I feare not him.

Looke how thou dream'ſt: I ſay agin, give out,

That Anne, my Queene, is ſicke, and like to dye.

About it, for it ſtands me much upon

To flop all hopes, whose growth may dammage me,

I muſt be married to my Brothers Daughters,

Or eſſe my Kingdome ſtands on brittle Glaſſe:

Murther her Brothers, and then marry her,

Vincertaine way of gaine. But I am in

So farre in blood, that ſinne will pluck on ſinne,

Teare-falling Pitty dwells not in this Eye.

### Enter Tyrrel.

Is thy Name Tyrrel?

Tir. Iames Tyrrel, and your moſt obedient ſubject.

Rich. Art thou indeed?

Tyr. Prove me, my gracious Lord.

Rich. Dar'ſt thou refolve to kill a friend of mine?

Tyr. Pleafe you:

But I had rather kill two enemies.

Rich. Why then thou haſt it: two deepc enemies,
Foes to my Reſt, and my freew ſleepes diſturbers,
Are they that I would have thee deale upon:
Tyrrel, I meane those Baſtards in the Tower.

Tyr. Let me have open meanes to come to them,

And ſoon He rid you from the feare of them.

Rich. Thou ſing'ſt I freew Muſiques:

Hearke, come bither Tyrrel,

Goe by this token: rife, and lend thine Eare,

Wähnper.

There is no more but to ſay: it is done,

And I will love thee, and prefer thee for it.

Tyr. I will dil patch it ſtraight. Exit.

### Enter Buckingham.

Buc. My Lord, I have confider'd in my minde,

The late request that you did found me in.

Rich. Well, let that reſt: Dorſet is ſied to Richmond.

Buc. I heare the newes, my Lord.

Rich. Stanley, hce is your Wives Sonne: well, looke
unto it.

Buc. My Lord, I clayme the gift, my due by promife,
For which your Honor and your Faith is pawn'd
Th' Earledome of Hereford, and the moveables,
Which you have promiſed I ſhall poſſeſſe.

Rich. Stawley looke to your Wife: if she convey
Letters to Richmond, you ſhall anſwer it.

Buc. What ſayes your Highneſſe to my juſt request?

Rich. I doe remember me, Henry the Sixt

Did prophecy, that Richmond ſhould be King:

When Richmond was a little peeſiv Boy.

A King perhaps.

Buc. May it pleafe you to refolve me in my ſuit.

Rich. Thou troubleſt me, I am not in the veine. Exit.

Buc. And is it thus? repayes he my deepc ſervice
With ſuch contempt? made I him King for this?

O let me thinke on Haſtines, and be gone

To Brecnock, while my fearefull Head is on. Exit.

### Enter Tyrrel.

Tyr. The tyrannous and bloody Aſt is done.
The moſt arch deed of pittious maſlacre

That

That ever yet this Land was guilty of:
Dighton and Forreſſ, whom I did ſuborne
To do this peee of ruthfull Butchery,
Albeit they were fleſht Villaines, bloudy Dogges,
Melted with tenderneſſe, and milde compation,
Wept like to Children, in their deaths ſad Story:
O thus (quoth Dighton) lay the gentle Babes:
Thus, thus (quoth Forreſſ) girdling one another
Within their Alablaſt innocent Armes:
Their lips were ſoure red Roſes on a ſtalke,
And in their Summer Beauty kiſt each other.
A Booke of Prayers on their pillow lay,
Which one (quoth Forreſſ) almoſt chang'd my minde:
But oh the Divell, there the Villaine ſtopt:
When Dighton thus told on, we ſmothered
The moſt replenifed (ſweet worke of nature,
That from the prime Creation ere ſhe framed.
Hence both are gone with Conſience and Remorſe,
They could not ſpeake, and to I left them both,
To beare theſe tydings to the bloudy King.

### Enter Richard.

And heere he comes. All health my Soveraigne Lord.
Riſ. Kinde Tirrell, am I happy in thy Newes.
Tir. If to have done the thing you gave in charge,
Be get your happineſſe, be happy then,
For it is done.

Rich. But did it thou fee them dead?

Tir. I did my Lord.

Rich. And buried gentle Tirrell?

Tir. The Chaplaine of the Tower hath buried them,
But where (to ſay the truth) I do not know.

Rich. Come to me Tirrell ſoone, and after Supper,
When thou there ſhalt tell the procett of their death.
Meane time, but thinke how I may do thee good,
And be inheritor of thy deſire,
Farewell till then.

Tir. I humbly take leave.

Rich. The Sonne of Clarence have I pent up cloſe,
His daughter meanly have I matcht in marriage,
The Sonnes of Edward ſleepe in Abrahams boſome,
And Anny my wife hath bid this world good night.
Now for I know the Britaine Richmond aymes
At yong Elizabeth my Brothers daughter,
And by that knot lookse proudly on the Crowne,
To her go I, a jolly thriving wooer.

### Enter Ratcliffes.

Rat. My Lord.

Rich. Good or bad newes, that thou com'st in so
bluntly?

Rat. Bad news my Lord, Mourten is fled to Richmond,
And Buckingham backt with the hardy Welſhmen
I in the field, and still his power encreaſeth.

Rich. Ely with Richmond troubles me more neere,
Then Buckingham and his rafh levied Strength.
Come, I have learn'd, that fearfull commenting
Is leaden fervitor to dull delay.

Delay leades impotent and Snaile-pac'd Beggery
Then fiery expedition be my wing,

loves Mercury, and Herald for a King.

Go muſter men: My couneſſe is my Sheeld,
We muſt be ſreeſe, when Traitors brave the Field.

Exeunt.

### Scena Tertia.

#### Enter old Queene Margaret.

Mar. So now prosperity begins to mellow,
And drop into the rotten mouth of death:
Heere in theſe Confines flye have I lurkt,
To watch the waining of mine enemies.
A dire inducement, am I witneſſe to,
And will to France, hoping the conſequence
Will prove as bitter, blacke, and Tragicall.

Withdraw thee wretched Margaret, who comes heere?

#### Enter Dutchefſe and Queene.

Qu. Ah my poore Princes lah my tender Babes!
My unblowne Flowers, new appearing fweets:
If yet your gentle ſoules flye in the Ayre,
And be not fixt in doome perpetuall,
Hover about me with your aery wings,
And heare your mothers Lamentation.

Mar. Hover about her, lay that right for right
Hath dim'd your Infant morne, to Aged night.

Dut. So many miferies have craz'd my voyce,
That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute.
Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead?

Mar. Plautagenet doth quic Plantagenet,
Edward for Edward, payes a dying debt.

Qu. Wilt thou, Q God, flye from ſuch gentle Lambs,
And throw them in the intrailes of the Wölfer?
Why didst thou ſleepe, when ſuch a deed was done?
Mar. When holy Henry dyed, and my ſwee Sonne.
Dut. Dead life, blind fight, poore mortall living ghoſt,
Woes Scene, Worlds ſhame, Graves due, by life unſurpt,
Breeſe abſtract and record of tedious dayes,
Reſt thy unreſt on Englands law ſull earth,
Vnlawfully made drunke with innocent blood.

Qu. Ah that thou would'ſt aſſoone aſſoord a Grave,
As thou canſt yeeld a melancholly ſteate:
Then would I hide my bones, not reſt them heere,
Ah who hath any cauſe to mourne but wee?

Mar. If ancient ſorrow be moſt reverent,
Give mine the benefit of ſigneury,
And let my greeſes frowne on the upper hand
If ſorrow can admit Society.

I had an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him:

I had a Husband, till a Richard kill'd him:

Thou had'ſt an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him:

Thou had'ſt a Richard, till a Richard kill'd him.

Dut. I had a Richard too, and thou did'ſt kill him;

I had a Rutland too, thou holf'ſt to kill him.

Mar. Thou had'ſt a Clarence too,
And Richard kill'd him.

From forth the kennell of thy wombe hath crept
A Hell-hound that doth hunt us all to death:

That Dogge, that had his teeth before his eyes,
To worry Lambes, and lap their gentle blood:

That foule defacer of Gods handy worke:
That reignes in gauled eyes of weeping ſoules:

That excellent grand Tyrant of the earth,
Thy wombe let ſoofe to chafe us to our graves.

O upright, juſt, and true-difpofing God,

How do I thanke thee, that this carnall Curre

Preyes

["196", "The Life and Death of Richard the Third.", "Preyes on the iffue of his Mothers body,\nAnd makes her Pue-fellow with others mone.", "Dut. Oh Harries wife, triumph not in my woes:\nGod witteneffe with me, I have wept for thine.", "Mar. Beare with me: I am hungry for revenge,\nAnd now I cloy me with beholding it.", "Thy Edward he is dead, that kill'd my Edward,\nThe other Edward dead, to quit my Edward?", "Yong Yorke, he is but boote, becaufe both they\nMatcht not the high perfection of my lofe.", "Thy Clarence he is dead, that ftab'd my Edward,\nAnd the beholders of this frantick e play,", "Th' adulterate Haflings, Rivers, Vaughan, Gray,\nVntimely smother'd in their dusky Graves.", "Richard yet lives, Hels blacke Intelligencer,\nOnely referv'd their Factor, to buy foules,\nAnd fend then thither: But at hand, at hand\nInfues his pittious and unpittied end.", "Earth gapes, Hell burnes, Fiends reare, Saints pray,\nTo have him fondainly convey'd from hence:", "Cancell his bond of life, deere God I pray,\nThat I may live and fay, The Dogge is dead.", "Qu. O thou didst it propheſe, the time would come,\nThat I should with for thee to helpe me curfe\nThat bottel'd Spider, that foule bunch-back'd Toad.", "Mar. I call'd thee then, vaine flourith of my fortune:\nI call'd thee then, poore Shadow, painted Queene,\nThe prefentation of but what I was;", "The flattering Index of a direfull Pageant;\nOne heav'd a high, to be hurl'd downe below:", "A Mother onely mockt with two faire Babes;", "A dreame of what thou waft, a garifh Flagge\nTo be the ayme of every dangerous Shot;", "A figne of Dignity, a Breath, a Bubble:\nA Queene in leaft, only to fill the Scene.", "Where is thy Husband now? Where be thy Brothers?", "Where be thy two Sonnes? Wherein doft thou Ioy?", "Who flues, and knees, and fayes, God fave the Queene?", "Where be the bending Peeres that flattered thee?", "Where be the thronging Troops that followed thee?", "Decline all this, and fee what now thou art.", "For happy Wife, a moft diftrefled Widdow:", "For joyfull Mother, one that wailles the name:", "For one being (ued to, one that humbly flues:", "For Queene, a very Caytiffe, crown'd with care:", "For the that fcom'd at me, now fcom'd of me:", "For she being feared of all, now fearing one:", "For the commanding all, obey'd of none.", "Thus hath the courfe of Iuſtice whirl'd about,\nAnd left thee but a very prey to time,", "Having no more but Thought of what thou waſt,", "To torture thee the more, being what thou art,", "Thou didst uſurpe my place, and doſt thou not\nVſurpe the juſt proportion of my Sorrow?", "Now thy proud Necke, beares halfe my burthen'd yoke,\nFrom which, even heere I flip my wearied head,\nAnd leave the burthen of it all, on thee.", "Farewell Yorkes wife, and Queene of ſad miſchance,\nTheſe English woes, thatll make me ſmile in France.", "Qu. O thou well skill'd in Curſes, ſtay a while,\nAnd teach me how to curſe mine enemies.", "Mar. Forbeare to fleepe the night, and ſaft the day:\nCompare dead happineſe, with living woe:", "Thinke that thy Babes were fweeter then they were,\nAnd he that flew them fowler then he is:", "Bett'ring thy loſſe, makes the bad cauſer worſe,", "Revolving this, will teach thee how to Curſe.", "Qu. My word are dull, O quicken them with thine.\nMar. Thy woes will make them ſharpe,", "And pierce like mine.", "Exit Marguerite.", "Dut. Why should calamity be full of words?", "Qu. Windy Attnurnies to their Cliens Woes,\nAyery ſucceeders of intetline joyes,", "Poore breathing Orators of miſeries,", "Let them have ſcope, though what they will impart,\nHepel nothing else, yet do they eafe the hart.", "Dut. If so then, be not Tongue-ty'd to go with me,\nAnd in the breath of bitter words, let's ſmothe\nMy damned Son, that thy two sweet Sonnes ſmothe'd,\nThe Trumpet ſounds, be copious in exclaimeſ.", "Enter King Richard, and his Traine,\nRich. Who intercepts me in my Expedition?", "Dut. O ſhe, that might have intercepted thee\nBy ſtrangling thee in her accurſed wombe,\nFrom all the ſlaughteſers (Wretch) that thou haſt done.", "Qu. Hid't then that Forhead with a Golden Crowne\nWhere't should be branded, if that right were right?", "The ſlaughter of the Prince that ow'd that Crowne,\nAnd the dyre death of my poore Sonnes, and Brothers.", "Tell me thou Villaine-flaſe, where are my Children?", "Dut. Thou Toad, thou Toade,", "Where is thy Brother Clarence?", "And little Ned Plantagenet his Sonne?", "Qu. Where is the gentle River, Vaughan, Gray?", "Dut. Where is kinde Haflings?", "Rich. A flouriſh Trumpets, I strike Alarum Drummes:\nLet not the Heavens heare theſe Tell-tale women\nRaile on the Lords Annointed. Strike I fay.", "Flourish.", "Alarums.", "Either be patient, and intreat me fayre,\nOr with the clamorous report of Warre,\nThus will I droune your exclamations.", "Dut. Art thou my Sonne?", "Rich. I, I thanke God, my Father, and your ſelſe.", "Dut. Then patiently heare my impatience.", "Rich. Madam, I have a touch of your condition,\nThat cannot brooke the accent of reproofe.", "Dut. O let me ſpeake.", "Rich. Do then, but Ile not heare.", "Dut. I will be milde, and gentle in my words,", "Rich. And breeſe (good Mother) for I am in haſt.", "Dut. Art thou ſo haſty? I have ſtaid for thee\n(God knowes) in torment and in agony.", "Rich. And came I not at laſt to comfort you?", "Dut. No by the holy Rood, thou know'ſt it well,\nThou cam't on earth, to make the earth my Hell.\nA greevous burthen was thy Birth to me,\nTetchy and wayward was thy Infancy.", "Thy School-daies frightfull, defp'rate, wilde, and ſurious,\nThy prime of Manhood, daring, bold, and venturous:", "Thy Age confirm'd, proud, ſubtle, ſlye, and bloody,\nMore milde, but yet more harmful, Kind in hatred:", "What comfortable houre canſt thou name,\nThat ever grac'd me with thy company?", "Rich. Faith none, but Humfrey Hower,", "That call'd your Grace", "To Breakeſt once, forth of my company.", "If I be ſo diſgracious in your eye,", "Let me march on, and not offend you Madam.", "Strike up the Drumme.", "Dut. I prythe you heare me ſpeake.", "Rich.", "Rich.\nDut.", "Rich.\nDut.", "Dut. from\nOr I with\nAnd nev\nThereof\nWhich\nThen all\nMy Pra\nAnd the\nWhitpe\nAnd pr\nBlondy\nShame", "Rich.\nDut.\nRich.\nDut.", "Rich.\nD

The Life and death of Richard the Third.

But mine shall be a comfort to your Age,
The lofe you have, is but a Sonne being King,
And by that lofe, your Daughter is made Queene.
I cannot make you what amends I would,
Therefore accept such kindneffe as I can.

Dorset your Sonne, that witha fearefull foule
Leads discontented steppes in Forraine foyle,
This faire Alliance, quickly shall call home
To high Promotions, and great Dignity.

The King that calles your beuteous daughte r wife,
Familiarly shall call thy Dorset, brother :
Againe shall you be Mother to a King :
And all the Ruines of diſtrefſe full Times,
Repair'd with double Riches of Content.
What? we have many goodly dayes to fee :
The liquid drops of Teares that you have flered,
Shall come againe, transform'd to Orient Pearle,
Advantaging their Love, with intereſt
Often-times double gaine of happineſſe.

Goe then (my Mother) to thy Daughter goe,
Make bold her bathfull ycares, with your experience,
Prepare her cares to heare a Wooers Tale.

Put in her tender heart, th' alſpiring Flame
Of Golden Soveraignty : Acquaint the Princeſſe
Wi th the ſweet ſilent houres of Marriage joyes ;
And when this Arme of mine hath chalſted
The petty Rebell, dull-brain'd Buckingham,
Bound with Triumphant Garlands will I come,
And leade thy daughter to a Conqueror's bed :
To whom I will retaile my Conqueſt wonne,
And the ſhall be ſole Vistorie, Caſars Caſar.

Que. What were I beſt to lay, her Father's brother
Would be her Lord ? Or ſhall I lay her Vnkle ?
Or he that flew her Brothers, and her Vnkles ?
Under what Title ſhall I wooe for thee,
That God, the Law, my Honor, and her Love,
Can make ſeeme pleafing to her tender yeeres ?

Ricb. Inferre faire Englands peace by this Alliance.

Qu. Which ſhe shall purchase with full laſt warre,
Rich. Tell her, the King that may command, intreats.

Qu. That at her hands, which the kings King forbids
Rich. Say the ſhall be a high and mighty Queene.

Qu. To vale the Title, as her Mother doth.

Rich. Say I will love her everlaſtingly.

Qu. But how long ſhall that title ever laſt ?

Rich. Sweetly in force, unto her faire lives end.

Qu. But how long fairely ſhall her ſweet life laſt ?

Rich. As long as heaven and Nature lengthens it.

Qu. As long as hell and Richard likes of it.

Rich. Say, I her Soveraigne, am her Subject low.

Qu. But ſhe your Subject, lothes ſuch Soveraignty.

Rich. Be eloquent in my behalſe to her.

Qu. An honſt tale ſpeeds beſt, being plainly told.

Rich. Then plainly to her, tell my loving tale.

Qu. Plaine and not honefl, is too harſh a ſtyle.

Rich. Your Reaſons are too ſhallow, and to quicke.

Qu. O no, my Reaſons are too deepe and dead,
Too deepe and dead (poore Infants) in their graves,
Harpe on it ſtill ſhall I, till heart-strings breake.

Rich. Harpe not on that ſtring Madam, that is paſt.
Now by my George, my Garter, and my Crowne.

Que. Prophan'd, diſhonour'd, and the third uſurp't.

Rich. If weare.

Que. By nothing, for this is no Oath:
Thy George prophan'd, hath loſt his Lordly honor,
Thy Garter blemiſh'd, pawn'd his Kingly Vertue ?

Thy Crowne uſurp'd, diſgrae'd his Kingly Glory :
If ſomething thou would it ſwere to bebeleeu'd,
Sweare then by ſomething, that thou haſt not wrong'd.

Rich. Then by my ſelfe.

Rich. Now by the World.

Qu. 'Tis full of thy ſoule wrongs.

Rich. My Fathers death.

Qu. Thy life hath it diſhonour'd.

Rich. Why then, by Heaven.

Que. Heavens wrong is moſt of all:

If thou didd't ſeare to breake an Oath with him,
The vniſty the King my husband made,
Thou haſt not broken, nor my brothers died.

If thou haſt ſear'd to breake an oath by him,
Th' imperiall mettall, circling now thy head,
Had grae'd the tender temples of my child,
And both the Princes had beene breathing heere.

Which now two tender Bed-folowes for duſt,
Thy broken Faith hath made the prey for Wormes.
What can't thou ſwere by now?

Rich. The time to come.

Que. That thou haſt wronged in the time ore-paſt:
For I my ſelfe have many teares to waſh.

Heereafter time, for time paſt, wrong'd by thee.

The Children live, whoſe Fathers thou haſt ſlaughter'd,
Vngovern'd youth, to waile it with their age:

The Parents live, whoſe Children thou haſt butcher'd,
Old barren Plants, to waile it with their Age.

Sweare not by time to come, for that thou haſt
Miſus' ere vs'd, by times ill-vs'd repaſt.

Rich. As Iintend to proper, and repent :
So thrive I in my dangerous Affaires

Of hoſtile Arms: My ſelfe, my ſelfe confound :

Heaven, and Fortune barre me happy houres:

Day, yceld me not thy light ? nor Night, thy reſt.

Be oppoſite all Planets of good lucke

To my proceeding, if with deere hearts love,
Immaculate devotion, holy thoughts,
I tender nor thy beauteous Princely daughter.

In her, confiſts my happineſſe, and thine:

Without her, follows to my ſelfe, and thee,
Her ſelfe, the Land, and many a Chriſtan ſoule,
Death, Defolation, Ruine, and Decay :

It cannot be avoyd'd, but by this :

It will not be avoyd'd, but by this.

Therefore deare Mother (I muſt call you to)

Be the Atturney of my love to her :

Pleade what I will be, not what I have beene;

Not my deferts, but what I will deferue :

Vge the Necessity and ſtate of times,

And be not peeviſh found, in great Deſignes.

Qu. Shall I be tempted of the divell thus ?

Rich. I, if the Divell tempt you to doe good.

Que. Shall I forget my ſelfe, to be my ſelfe?

Rich. I, if your ſelfes remembrance wrong your ſelfe,

Que. Yet thou didſt kill my Children.

Rich. But in your daughters wombe I bury them.

Where in that Neſt of Spicery they will breed
Selves of themſelves, to your recomforture.

Que. Shall I goe win my daughter to thy will ?

Rich. And be a happy Mother by the deed.

Que. I goe, write to me very ſhortly,
And you shall understand from me her mind: Exit Qu.

Rich. Beare her my true loves kiffe, and ſo farewell.
Relenting Foole, and ſhallow-changing Woman.

How

199

How now, what newes?

Enter Raseliffe.

Rate. Moft mighty Soveraigne, on the Wefterne Coast
Rideth a puifant Navy: to our Shores
Throng many doubtfull hollow-hearted friends,
Vnarm'd, and unrefolv'd to beat them backe.
Tis thought, that Richmond is their Admirall:
And there they hurrl, expecting but the ayde
Of Buckingham, to welcome them afshore.

Rich. Some light-foot friend poft to the Duke of Norfolk
Ratchiffe thy selfe, or Catesby, where is he ?

Cat. Here, my good Lord.

Rich. Catesby, flye to the Duke.

Cat. I will, my Lord, with all convenient haſte,

Rich. Catesby come hither, poſte to Salisbury.

When thou com'st thither: Dull unmindfull Villaine.
Why fly't thou here, and go't not to the Duke?

Cat. Fit, mighty Liege, tell me your highneſſe pleafure
What from your Grace I ſhall deliver to him.

Rich. O true, good Catesby, bid him levy aſtraight
The greatest ſtrength and power that he can make,
And meet me suddenly at Salisbury.

Cat. I goe.

Exit.

Rat. What, may it plesè you, ſhall I doe at Salis-
buty?

Rich. Why, what would it thou doe there, before I goe?

Rat. Your highneſſe told me I should poſte before.

Rich. My mind is chang'd :

Enter Lord Stanley.

Stanley, what newes with you ?

Stan. None, good my Liege, to plesè you with the heat-
Nor none fo bad, but well may be reported.

Rich. Heyday, a Riddle, neither good nor bad :

What need it thou runne fo many miles about,

When thou mayeſt tell thy tale the nuerſt way ?

Once more, what newes?

Stan. Richmond is on the Seas.

Rich. There let him finke, and be the Seas on him,

White-liver'd Runnagate, what doth he there ?

Stan. I know not, mighty Soveraigne, but by gueſſe.

Rich. Well, as you gueſſe.

Stan. Stirr'd up by Dorſet, Buckingham, and Morton.

He makes for England, here to clay me the Crowne.

Rich. Is the Chayre empty ? is the Sword unſway'd ?
Is the King dead ? the Empire unpoffeſt ?

What heire of Torke is there alive, but we?

And who is Englands King, but great Torkes heire?

Then tell me, what makes he upon the Seas?

Stan. Vnleſſe for that, my Liege, I cannot gueſſe.

Rich. Vnleſſe for that he comes to be your Liege,

You cannot gueſſe wherefore the Welchman comes.

Thou wilt revolt, and flye to him, I fear.

Stan. No, my good Lord, therefore miſtruſt me not.

Rich. Where is thy Power then, to beat him backe ?
Where be thy Tenants, and thy followers ?
Are they not now upon the Weſterne Shore,
Safe-conducting the Rebels from their Shippes ?

Stanley. No, my good Lord, my friends are in the
North.

Rich. Cold friends to me: what doe they in the North,
When they ſhould ſerve their Soveraigne in the Weſt ?

Stan. They have not beene commanded, mighty King
Pleafeth your Majeſty to give me leave,
Ile muſter up my friends, and meet your Grace,
Where, and what time your Majeſty ſhall plesae.

Rich. I, thou would'ſt be gone, to joyne with Richmond:
But Ile not muſtr thee.

Stan. Moſt mighty Soveraigne,
You have no cauſe to hold my friendſhip doubtfull,
I never was, nor never will be ſalſe.

Rich. Goe then, and muſter men: but leave behind
Your Sonne George Stanley : looke your heart be firme,
Or eſſe his heads affurance is but ſtraile.

Sta. So dcale with him, as I prove true to you.

Exit Stanley.

Enter à Meſſenger.

Meſſ. My gracious Soveraigne, now in Devonſhire,
As I by friends am well advertiſed,

Sir Edward Courtney, and the haughty Prelate,

Bishop of Exeter, his elder Brother,

With many more Confederates, are in armes.

Enter another Meſſenger.

Meſſ. In Kent, my Liege, the Guilfords are in Armes,
And every houre more Competitors

Flocke to the Rebels, and their power growes ſtrong.

Enter another Meſſenger.

Meſſ. My Lord, the Army of great Buckingham.

Rich. Out on ye, Owles, nothing but Songs of Death,

He striketh him.

There, take thou that, till thou bring better newes,

Meſſ. The newes I have to tell your Majeſty, i

Is, that by ſudden Floods, and fall of Waters,

Buckingham's Army is diſpers'd and ſcatter'd,

And he himſelſe wandred away alone,

No man knowes whither.

Rich. I cry thee mercy ;

There is my Purſe, to cure that Blow of thine.

Hath any well-advifed friend proclaym'd

Reward to him that brings the Traytor in ?

Meſſ. Such Proclamation hath beene made, my Lord.

Enter another Meſſenger.

Meſſ. Sir Thomas Lovell, and Lord Marquſe Dorſet,
'Tis faid, my Leige, in Yorkeſhire are in Armes :
But this good comfort bring I to your Highneſſe,
The Brittainne Navy is diſpers'd by Tempeſt.

Richmond in Dorſet ſhire ſent out a Boat

Vnto the ſhore, to aske thofe on the Bankes,

If they were his Aſſiſtants, yea, or no ?..

Who anſwer'd him, they came from Buckingham,

Upon his party: he miſtruſting them,

Hoys'd ſayle, and made his courſe againe for Brittainne.

Rich. March on, march on, ſince we are up in Armes,
If not to fight with forraine Enemies,

Yet to beat downe theſe Rebels here at home.

Enter Catesby.

Cat. My Liege, the Duke of Buckingham is taken,
That is the beſt newes, that the Earle of Richmond

u 2

Is

Is with a mighty power Landed at Milford,
Is colder Newes, but yet they muft be told.

Rich. Away towards Salsbury, while we reafon here,
A Royall battell might be wonne and loft :
Some one take order Buckingham be brought
To Salsbury, the reft march on with me.

Exeunt.

## Scæna Quarta.

Enter Derby, and Sir Christopher.

Der. Sir Christopher, tell Richmond this from me,
That in the flye of the moft deadly Bore,
My Sonne George Stanley is frankt up in hold :
If I revolt, off goes yong Georges head,
The feare of that, holds off my prefent ayde.
So get thee gone : commend me to thy Lord.
Withall fay, that the Queene hath heartily conſented
He should eſpouſe Elizabeth her daughter.

But tell me, where is Princely Richmond now ?

Chri. At Penbroke, or at Hertford Weſt in Wales.

Der. What men of Name refort to him.

Chri. Sir Walter Herbert, a renowned Souldier,
Sir Gilbert Talbot, Sir William Stanley,
Oxford, redoubred Pembroke, Sir James Blunt,
And Rice ap Thomas, with a valiant Crew,
And many other of great name and worth :
And towards London doe they bend their power,
If by the way they be not fought withall.

Der. Well hye thee to thy Lord: I kiffe his hand,
My Letter will resolve him of my mind-
Farewell.

Exeunt.

## Actus Quintus. Scæna Prima.

Enter Buckingham with Halberds, led to Execution.

Buc. Will not King Richard let me ſpeake with him ?

Sher. No my good Lord, therefore be patient.

Buc. Hastings, and Edwards children, Gray and Rivers,
Holy King Henry, and thy faire Sonne Edward,
Vaughan, and all that have mifcarried

By under-hand corrupted foule injuitice,
If that your moody discontented foules,
Doe through the clowds behold this prefent houre,
Euen for revenge mocke my deftruction.

This is All-foules day (Fellow) is it not?

Sher. It is.

Buc. Why then All-foules day, is my bodies doom'd day
This is the day, which in King Edwards time
I wifh'd might fall on me, when I was found
Falſe to his Children, and his Wives Ailies.

This is the day, wherein I wifht to fall
By the falſe Faith of him whom moſt I truſted.
This, this All-foules day to my fearfull Soule,
Is the determin'd refpit of my wrongs :

That high All-feer, which I dallied with,

Hath turn'd my fained Prayer on my head,
And given in earneſt, what I begg'd in jeft.

Thus doth he force the ſwords of wicked men
To turne their owne points in their Maſters boſomes.

Thus Margarets curſe falles heavy on my necke :
When he (quoth ſhe) ſhall I ſplit thy heart with ſorward,
Remember Margaret was a Prophereſſe :

Come leade me Officers to the blocke of ſhame,
Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of blame.

Exeunt Buckingham with Officers.

## Scæna Secunda.

Enter Richmond, Oxford, Blunt, Herbert, and others, with drum and colours.

Richm. Fellowes in Armes, and my moſt loving Frends
Bruis'd underneath the yoake of Tyranny,
Thus farre into the bowels of the Land,
Have we marcht on without impediment ;

And here receive we from our Father Stanley

Lines of faire comfort and encouragement:
The wretched, bloody, and unirping Boare,

(I that I poyt'd your Summer Fields, and fruitfull Vines)
Swilles your warm blood like wath, & makes his trough
In your embowel'd boſomes : This foule Swine

Is now even in the Center of this ſile,

Ne'reto the towne of Leiceter, as we leane:
From Tamworth thither, is but one dayes match.

In God's name chreely on, couragious Friends,
To reape the Harveſt of perpetual peace,

By this one bloody tryall of sharpe Warre.

Oſſ. Every mans Conſciencie is a thouſand men,
To fight againſt this guilty Homicide.

Fer. I doubt not but his Friends will turne to us.
Blun. He hath no friends, but what are friends for ſteare
Which in his deereſt need will flye from him.

Richm. All for our vantage, then in God's name march,
True hope is ſwift, and flyes with Swallowes wings,
Kings it makes Gods, and meaner creatures Kings.

Exeunt Omnes.

Enter King Richard in Armes with Norſtolke, Ratcliffes, and the Earle of Surrey.

Rich. Here pitch our Tent, even here in Bofworth field;
My Lord of Surrey, why looke you to ſad?

Snr. My heart is ten times lighter then my looks.

Rich. My Lord of Norſtolke.

Nor. Heere moſt gracious Liege.

Rich. Norſtolke, we muſt have knockes :

Ha, muſt we not?

Nor. We muſt both give and take my loving Lord.

Rich. Vp with my Tent, here will I lye to night,
But where to morrow ? Well, all's one for that.

Who hath defried the number of the Traitors ?

Nor. Six or feven thouſand is their utmoſt power.

Rich. Why our Battalia trebbles that account :
Besides, the Kings name is a Tower of Strength,
Which they upon the adverſe Faſtion want.

Vp with the Tent: Come Noble Gentlemen,
Let us ſurvey the vantage of the ground.

Call for ſome men of ſound direction :

Let's

["The Life and death of Richard the Third.", "Let's lacke no Discipline. make no delay,\nFor Lords, to morrow is a bufie day.", "Exeunt.", "Enter Richmond, Sir William Brandon, Oxford, and Dorset.", "Rich. The weary Sunne, hath made a Golden set,\nAnd by the bright Tract of his fiery Carre,\nGives token of a goodly day to morrow,\nSir William Brandon, you shall beare my Standard :\nGive me fome Inke and Paper in my Tent :\nIle draw the Forme and Modell of our Battailc,\nLimiteach Leader to his feverall Charge,\nAnd part in juſt proportion our ſmall Power.\nMy Lord of Oxford, you Sir William Brandon,\nAnd you Sir Walter Herbert itay with me:\nThe Earle of Pembroke keepes his Regiment :\nGood Captaine Blunt, beare my goodnight to him,\nAnd by the ſecond houre in the Morning,\nDefire the Earle to fee me in my Tent :\nYet one thing more (good Captaine) doe for me :\nWhere is Lord Stanley quarter'd, doc you know ?", "Blunt. Vnleſſe I have miſtane his Colours much,\n(Which well I am affur'd I have not done)\nHis Regiment lyes halſe a Mile at leaſt\nSouth, from the mighty Power of the King:\nRich. If without perill it be poffible,\nSweet Blunt, make ſome good meanes to ſpeak with him\nAnd give him from me, this moſt needfull Note.\nBlunt. Vpon my ſelfe, my Lord, Ile undertake it,\nAnd ſo God give you quiet ſcrt to night.\nRich. Good night good Captaine Blunt :\nCome Gentlemen,\nLet us confult upon to morrowes Buſineſſe ;\nInto my Tent, the Dew is rawe and cold.\nThey withdraw into the Tent.", "Blunt. Vnleſſe I have miſtane his Colours much,\n(Which well I am affur'd I have not done)\nHis Regiment lyes halſe a Mile at leaſt\nSouth, from the mighty Power of the King:\nRich. If without perill it be poffible,\nSweet Blunt, make ſome good meanes to ſpeak with him\nAnd give him from me, this moſt needfull Note.\nBlunt. Vpon my ſelfe, my Lord, Ile undertake it,\nAnd ſo God give you quiet ſcrt to night.\nRich. Good night good Captaine Blunt :", "Blunt. Vnleſſe I have miſtane his Colours much,\n(Which well I am affur'd I have not done)\nHis Regiment lyes halſe a Mile at leaſt\nSouth, from the mighty Power of the King:\nRich. If without perill it be poffible,\nSweet Blunt, make ſome good meanes to ſpeak with him\nAnd give him from me, this moſt needfull Note.\nBlunt. Vpon my ſelfe, my Lord, Ile undertake it,\nAnd ſo God give you quiet ſcrt to night.\nRich. Good night good Captaine Blunt :", "Blunt. Vnleſſe I have miſtane his Colours much,\n(Which well I am affur'd I have not done)\nHis Regiment lyes halſe a Mile at leaſt\nSouth, from the mighty Power of the King:\nRich. If without perill it be poffible,\nSweet Blunt, make ſome good meanes to ſpeak with him\nAnd give him from me, this moſt needfull Note.\nBlunt. Vpon my ſelfe, my Lord, Ile undertake it,\nAnd ſo God give you quiet ſcrt to night.\nRich. Good night good Captaine Blunt :", "Blunt. Vnleſſe I have miſtane his Colours much,\n(Which well I am affur'd I have not done)\nHis Regiment lyes halſe a Mile at leaſt\nSouth, from the mighty Power of the King:\nRich. If without perill it be poffible,\nSweet Blunt, make ſome good meanes to ſpeak with him\nAnd give him from me, this moſt needfull Note.\nBlunt. Vpon my ſelfe, my Lord, Ile undertake it,\nAnd ſo God give you quiet ſcrt to night.\nRich. Good night good Captaine Blunt :", "Blunt. Vnleſſe I have miſtane his Colours much,\n(Which well I am affur'd I have not done)\nHis Regiment lyes halſe a Mile at leaſt\nSouth, from the mighty Power of the King:\nRich. If without perill it be poffible,\nSweet Blunt, make ſome good meanes to ſpeak with him\nAnd give him from me, this moſt needfull Note.\nBlunt. Vpon my ſelfe, my Lord, Ile undertake it,\nAnd ſo God give you quiet ſcrt to night.\nRich. Good night good Captaine Blunt :", "Blunt. Vnleſſe I have miſtane his Colours much,\n(Which well I am affur'd I have not done)\nHis Regiment lyes halſe a Mile at leaſt\nSouth, from the mighty Power of the King:\nRich. If without perill it be poffible,\nSweet Blunt, make ſome good meanes to ſpeak with him\nAnd give him from me, this moſt needfull Note.\nBlunt. Vpon my ſelfe, my Lord, Ile undertake it,\nAnd ſo God give you quiet ſcrt to night.\nRich. Good night good Captaine Blunt :", "Blunt. Vnleſſe I have miſtane his Colours much,\n(Which well I am affur'd I have not done)\nHis Regiment lyes halſe a Mile at leaſt\nSouth, from the mighty Power of the King:\nRich. If without perill it be poffible,\nSweet Blunt, make ſome good meanes to ſpeak with him\nAnd give him from me, this moſt needfull Note.\nBlunt. Vpon my ſelfe, my Lord, Ile undertake it,\nAnd ſo God give you quiet ſcrt to night.\nRich. Good night good Captaine Blunt :", "Blunt. Vnleſſe I have miſtane his Colours much,\n(Which well I am affur'd I have not done)\nHis Regiment lyes halſe a Mile at leaſt\nSouth, from the mighty Power of the King:\nRich. If without perill it be poffible,\nSweet Blunt, make ſome good meanes to ſpeak with him\nAnd give him from me, this moſt needfull Note.\nBlunt. Vpon my ſelfe, my Lord, Ile undertake it,\nAnd ſo God give you quiet ſcrt to night.\nRich. Good night good Captaine Blunt :", "Blunt. Vnleſſe I have miſtane his Colours much,\n(Which well I am affur'd I have not done)\nHis Regiment lyes halſe a Mile at leaſt\nSouth, from the mighty Power of the King:\nRich. If without perill it be poffible,\nSweet Blunt, make ſome good meanes to ſpeak with him\nAnd give him from me, this moſt needfull Note.\nBlunt. Vpon my ſelfe, my Lord, Ile undertake it,\nAnd ſo God give you quiet ſcrt to night.\nRich. Good night good Captaine Blunt :", "Blunt. Vnleſſe I have miſtane his Colours much,\n(Which well I am affur'd I have not done)\nHis Regiment lyes halſe a Mile at leaſt\nSouth, from the mighty Power of the King:\nRich. If without perill it be poffible,\nSweet Blunt, make ſome good meanes to ſpeak with him\nAnd give him from me, this moſt needfull Note.\nBlunt. Vpon my ſelfe, my Lord, Ile undertake it,\nAnd ſo God give you quiet ſcrt to night.\nRich. Good night good Captaine Blunt :", "Blunt. Vnleſſe I have miſtane his Colours much,\n(Which well I am affur'd I have not done)\nHis Regiment lyes halſe a Mile at leaſt\nSouth, from the mighty Power of the King:\nRich. If without perill it be poffible,\nSweet Blunt, make ſome good meanes to ſpeak with him\nAnd give him from me, this moſt needfull Note.\nBlunt. Vpon my ſelfe, my Lord, Ile undertake it,\nAnd ſo God give you quiet ſcrt to night.\nRich. Good night good Captaine Blunt :", "Blunt. Vnleſſe I have miſtane his Colours much,\n(Which well I am affur'd I have not done)\nHis Regiment lyes halſe a Mile at leaſt\nSouth, from the mighty Power of the King:\nRich. If without perill it be poffible,\nSweet Blunt, make ſome good meanes to ſpeak with him\nAnd give him from me, this moſt needfull Note.\nBlunt. Vpon my ſelfe, my Lord, Ile undertake it,\nAnd ſo God give you quiet ſcrt to night.\nRich. Good night good Captaine Blunt :", "Blunt. Vnleſſe I have miſtane his Colours much,\n(Which well I am affur'd I have not done)\nHis Regiment lyes halſe a Mile at leaſt\nSouth, from the mighty Power of the King:\nRich. If without perill it be poffible,\nSweet Blunt, make ſome good meanes to ſpeak with him\nAnd give him from me, this moſt needfull Note.\nBlunt. Vpon my ſelfe, my Lord, Ile undertake it,\nAnd ſo God give you quiet ſcrt to night.\nRich. Good night good Captaine Blunt :", "Blunt. Vnleſſe I have miſtane his Colours much,\n(Which well I am affur'd I have not done)\nHis Regiment lyes halſe a Mile at leaſt\nSouth, from the mighty Power of the King:\nRich. If without perill it be poffible,\nSweet Blunt, make ſome good meanes to ſpeak with him\nAnd give him from me, this moſt needfull Note.\nBlunt. Vpon my ſelfe, my Lord, Ile undertake it,\nAnd ſo God give you quiet ſcrt to night.\nRich. Good night good Captaine Blunt :", "Blunt. Vnleſſe I have miſtane his Colours much,\n(Which well I am affur'd I have not done)\nHis Regiment lyes halſe a Mile at leaſt\nSouth, from the mighty Power of the King:\nRich. If without perill it be poffible,\nSweet Blunt, make ſome good meanes to ſpeak with him\nAnd give him from me, this moſt needfull Note.\nBlunt. Vpon my ſelfe, my Lord, Ile undertake it,\nAnd ſo God give you quiet ſcrt to night.\nRich. Good night good Captaine Blunt :", "Blunt. Vnleſſe I have miſtane his Colours much,\n(Which well I am affur'd I have not done)\nHis Regiment lyes halſe a Mile at leaſt\nSouth, from the mighty Power of the King:\nRich. If without perill it be poffible,\nSweet Blunt, make ſome good meanes to ſpeak with him\nAnd give him from me, this moſt needfull Note.\nBlunt. Vpon my ſelfe, my Lord, Ile undertake it,\nAnd ſo God give you quiet ſcrt to night.\nRich. Good night good Captaine Blunt :", "Blunt. Vnleſſe I have miſtane his Colours much,\n(Which well I am affur'd I have not done)\nHis Regiment lyes halſe a Mile at leaſt\nSouth, from the mighty Power of the King:\nRich. If without perill it be poffible,\nSweet Blunt, make ſome good meanes to ſpeak with him\nAnd give him from me, this moſt needfull Note.\nBlunt. Vpon my ſelfe, my Lord, Ile undertake it,\nAnd ſo God give you quiet ſcrt to night.\nRich. Good night good Captaine Blunt :", "Blunt. Vnleſſe I have miſtane his Colours much,\n(Which well I am affur'd I have not done)\nHis Regiment lyes halſe a Mile at leaſt\nSouth, from the mighty Power of the King:\nRich. If without perill it be poffible,\nSweet Blunt, make ſome good meanes to ſpeak with him\nAnd give him from me, this moſt needfull Note.\nBlunt. Vpon my ſelfe, my Lord, Ile undertake it,\nAnd ſo God give you quiet ſcrt to night.\nRich. Good night good Captaine Blunt :", "Blunt. Vnleſſe I have miſtane his Colours much,\n(Which well I am affur'd I have not done)\nHis Regiment lyes halſe a Mile at leaſt\nSouth, from the mighty Power of the King:\nRich. If without perill it be poffible,\nSweet Blunt, make ſome good meanes to ſpeak with him\nAnd give him from me, this moſt needfull Note.\nBlunt. Vpon my ſelfe, my Lord, Ile undertake it,\nAnd ſo God give you quiet ſcrt to night.\nRich. Good night good Captaine Blunt :", "Blunt. Vnleſſe I have miſtane his Colours much,\n(Which well I am affur'd I have not done)\nHis Regiment lyes halſe a Mile at leaſt\nSouth, from the mighty Power of the King:\nRich. If without perill it be poffible,\nSweet Blunt, make ſome good meanes to ſpeak with him\nAnd give him from me, this moſt needfull Note.\nBlunt. Vpon my ſelfe, my Lord, Ile undertake it,\nAnd ſo God give you quiet ſcrt to night.\nRich. Good night good Captaine Blunt :", "Blunt. Vnleſſe I have miſtane his Colours much,\n(Which well I am affur'd I have not done)\nHis Regiment lyes halſe a Mile at leaſt\nSouth, from the mighty Power of the King:\nRich. If without perill it be poffible,\nSweet Blunt, make ſome good meanes to ſpeak with him\nAnd give him from me, this moſt needfull Note.\nBlunt. Vpon my ſelfe, my Lord, Ile undertake it,\nAnd ſo God give you quiet ſcrt to night.\nRich. Good night good Captaine Blunt :", "Blunt. Vnleſſe I have miſtane his Colours much,\n(Which well I am affur'd I have not done)\nHis Regiment lyes halſe a Mile at leaſt\nSouth, from the mighty Power of the King:\nRich. If without perill it be poffible,\nSweet Blunt, make ſome good meanes to ſpeak with him\nAnd give him from me, this moſt needfull Note.\nBlunt. Vpon my ſelfe, my Lord, Ile undertake it,\nAnd ſo God give you quiet ſcrt to night.\nRich. Good night good Captaine Blunt :", "Blunt. Vnleſſe I have miſtane his Colours much,\n(Which well I am affur'd I have not done)\nHis Regiment lyes halſe a Mile at leaſt\nSouth, from the mighty Power of the King:\nRich. If without perill it be poffible,\nSweet Blunt, make ſome good meanes to ſpeak with him\nAnd give him from me, this moſt needfull Note.\nBlunt. Vpon my ſelfe, my Lord, Ile undertake it,\nAnd ſo God give you quiet ſcrt to night.\nRich. Good night good Captaine Blunt :", "Blunt. Vnleſſe I have miſtane his Colours much,\n(Which well I am affur'd I have not done)\nHis Regiment lyes halſe a Mile at leaſt\nSouth, from the mighty Power of the King:\nRich. If without perill it be poffible,\nSweet Blunt, make ſome good meanes to ſpeak with him\nAnd give him from me, this moſt needfull Note.\nBlunt. Vpon my ſelfe, my Lord, Ile undertake it,\nAnd ſo God give you quiet ſcrt to night.\nRich. Good night good Captaine Blunt :", "Blunt. Vnleſſe I have miſtane his Colours much,\n(Which well I am affur'd I have not done)\nHis Regiment lyes halſe a Mile at leaſt\nSouth, from the mighty Power of the King:\nRich. If without perill it be poffible,\nSweet Blunt, make ſome good meanes to ſpeak with him\nAnd give him from me, this moſt needfull Note.\nBlunt. Vpon my ſelfe, my Lord, Ile undertake it,\nAnd ſo God give you quiet ſcrt to night.\nRich. Good night good Captaine Blunt :", "Nor cheere of Mind that I was wont to have.", "Set it downe. Is Inke and Paper ready?", "Rich. It is my Lord.", "Rich. Bid my Guard watch. Leave me.", "Ratchliffe, about the mid of night come to my Tent\nAnd helpe to arme me. Leave me I fay.", "Enter Derby to Richmond in his Tent.", "Derb. Fortune, and Victory fit on thy Helme.", {"bbox": [486, 316, 847, 356

*Enter the Ghost of Clarence.*

*Ghosh*. Let me fit heavy in thy foule to morrow.
I that was wafh'd to death with Fulsome Wine :
Poore *Clarence* by thy guile betray'd to death :
To morrow in the battell thinke on me,
And fall thy edgeleffe Sword, defpaire and dye.
*To Richm.* Thou off-lpring of the houfe of Lancafter
The wronged heyres of Yorke doe pray for thee,
Good Angels guard thy battrell, Live and Flourith.

*Enter the Ghost of Rivers, Gray, and Vaughan.*

*Riv.* Let me fit heavy in thy foule to morrow,
Rivers, that dy'd at Pomfret : defpaire, and dye.
*Grey.* Thinke upon *Grey*, and let thy foule defpaire.
*Vaughn.* Thinke upon *Vaughan*, and with guilty feare
Let fall thy Lance, defpaire and dye.
*All to Richm.* Awake.

*All to Richm.* Awake.
And thinke our wrongs in *Richards* Boſome,
Will conquer. Awake, and win the day.

*Enter the Ghost of Lord Haftings.*

*Ghosh.* Bloody and guilty : guilty awake,
And in a bloody Batteil end thy dayes.

Thinke on Lord Haftings; defpaire, and dye.

*Haff.* *To Richm.* Quiet untroubled foule,
Awake, awake :
Arme, fight, and conquer, for faire Englands fake.

*Enter the Ghosts of the two yong Princes.*

*Ghosts.* Dreame on thy Confins

Smothered in the Tower :
Let us be laid within thy boſome *Richard*,
And weigh thee downe to ruine, ſhame, and death :
Thy Nephewes foule bids thee defpaire and dye.

*Ghosh to Richm.* Sleepe Richmond,

Sleepe in Peace, and wake in joy,
Good Angels guard thee from the Boares annoy,
Live, and beget a happy race of Kings.

*Edwards* unhappy Sonnes, doe bid thee flourith;

*Enter the Ghost of Anne, his Wife.*

*Ghosh to Rich.* *Richard*, thy Wife,
That wretched *Anne* thy Wife,
That never flept a quiet houre with thee,
Now filles thy sleepe with perturbations,
To morrow in the Battaille, thinke on me,
And fall thy edgeleſſe Sword, defpaire and dye.

*Ghosh to Richm.* Thou quiet foule,
Sleepe thou a quiet sleepe:

Dreame of Succeſſe, and Happy Victory,
Thy Adverſaries Wife doth pray for thee.

*Enter the Ghosts of Buckingham.*

*Ghosh to Rich.* The firſt was I
That help'd thee to the Crowne :
The laſt was I that felt thy Tyranny.
O, in the bataile thinke on Buckingham,
And dye in terror of thy guiltineſſe.
Dreame on, dreame on, of bloody deeds and death,
Fainting defpaire; defpairing yeeld thy breath,
*Ghosh to Richm.* I dyed for hope

Ere I could lend thee Ayde ;
But cheere thy heart, and be thou not diſmayde :
God, and good Angels fight on Richmonds ſide,
And *Richard* fall in height of all his pride.

*Richard starts out of his dreame.*

*Rich.* Give me another horſe, bind up my Wounds :
Have mercy Iefu. ſoft, I did but dreame.
O coward Conſcienc ! how doſt thou afflict me ?
The Lights burne blew. It is not dead midnight,
Cold ſcarefull drops ſland on my trembling fleſh

What ? doe I feare my Selfe ? There's noneleſſe by,
*Richard* loves *Richard*, that is, I am I.

I there a Murtherer heere? No; Yes, I am:
Then flye ? What from my ſelfe? Great reaſon: why?
Left I Revenge. What ? my ſelfe upon my ſelfe?
Alacke, I love my ſelfe. Wherefore ? For any good
That I my ſelfe, have done unto my ſelfe ?

O no. Alas, I rather hate my ſelfe,
For hatefull Deeds committed by my ſelfe.

I am a villaine: yet I Lye, I am not.
Foole, of thy ſelfe ſpeake well: Foole doe not flatter.

My Conſcienc hath a thouſand ſeverall Tongues,
And every Tongue brings in a ſeverall Tale,
And every Tale condemnes me for a Villaine;
Perjury, in the highſt Degree,

Murther, ſterne murther,in the dyrſt degree,
All ſeverall finnes, ali us'd in each degree,
Throng all to th'Barre, crying all, Guilty, Guilty,
I ſhall defpaire, there is no Creatures loves me;
And if I dye, no ſoule ſhall pitty me.

Nay, wherefore ſhould they ? Since that I my ſelfe,
Finde in my ſelfe, no pitty to my ſelfe.

Me thought, the ſoules of all that I had murther'd
Came to my Tent, and every one did threat
To morrowes vengeance on the head of *Richard*,

*Enter Ratcliffe.*

*Rat.* My Lord.

*King.* Who's there ?

*Rat.* *Ratcliffe* my Lord, 'tis I: the early Village Cocke
Hath twice done falutation to the Morne,

*King.* O *Ratcliffe*, I feare, I feare.

*Rat.* Nay good my Lord, be not affraid of Shadows.

*King.* By the Apoſtle *Paul*, I hawdowes to night
Have itkore more terror to the ſoule of *Richard*.
Then can the ſubſtance of ten thouſand Souldiers
Armed in proofe, and led by ſhallow *Richmond*.

'Tis not yet neere day. 'Come goe with me,
Vnder our Tents; Ile play the Eafe-dropper,
To heare if any meane to ſhrinke from me.

*Exeunt Richard and Ratcliffe.*

*Enter the Lords to Richmond sitting
in his Tent.*

*Lords.* Good morrow *Richmond*.

*Rich.* Cry you mercy, Lords, and watchfull Gentlemen
That you have tane a tardy fluggard heere ?

*Lords.* How have you flept my Lord ?
*Rich.* The sweeteſt sleepe,
And faireſt boading Dreames,
That ever entred in a drowſe head,
Have I ſince your departure had my Lords.
Me thought their ſoules, whoſe bodies *Richard* murther'd
Came to my Tent, and cried on Victory :
I promife you my heart is very jocond,
In the remembrance of ſo faire a dreame,
How farre into the Morning is it Lords ?

*Lord.* Upon the ſtore of ſoure.

*Rich.* Why then 'tis time to Arme, and give direction.

*His Oration to his Souldiers.*

More then I have ſaid, loving Countrymen,
The leyſure and inſforcement of the time
Forbids to dwell upon : yet remember this,

God

203

God, and our good cause, fight upon our fide,
The Prayers of holy Saints and wronged foules,
Like high reat'd Bulwarkes, stand before our Faces
(Richard's except) thate whom we fight againft,
Had rather have us winne, then him they follow.
For, what is he they follow ? Truly Gentlemen,
A Blonby Tyrant, and a Homicide :
One rais'd in blood, and one in blood eftablifh'd;
One that made meanes to come by what he hath,
And flaunder'd thate that were the meanes to help him:
A bafe foule Stone, made precious by the foyle
Of Englands Chaire, where he is falfely fet :
One that hath ever beene Gods Enemy,
Then if you fight againft Gods Enemy,
God will in justice ward you as his Souldiers.
If you doe fware to put a Tyrant downe,
You fleepe in peace, the Tyrant being flaine :
If you doe fight againft your Countries Foes,
Your Countries Fat ſhall pay your paines the hyre.
If you floe fight in fagelage of your wives,
Your wives ſhall welcome home the Conquerors:
If you doe free your Children from the Sword,
Your Childrens Children quits it in your Age.
Then in the name of God and all thefe rights,
Advance your Standards, draw your willing Swords.
For me, the ranfome of my bold attempt,
Shall be this cold Corpes on the earth's cold face.
But if I thrive, the gaine of my attempt,
The leaſt of you ſhall share his part thereof.
Sound Drummes and Trumpet boldly, and cheerefully,
God, and Saint George, Richmond, and Victory.

Enter King Richard, Ratcliffes, and Catesby.

Kin. What faid Northumberland as touching Richmond?
Ratc. That he was neyer trained up in Armes.
Kin. He faid the truth: and what faid Surrey then ?
Ratc. He ſmil'd and faid, the better for our purpofe.
Kin. He was in the right, and ſo indeed it is.
Tell the clocke there.
Clockes strikes.
Give me a Kalender : who faw the Sunne to day ?
Ratc. Not I my Lord.
Kin. Then he diſdaines to ſhine: for by the Booke
He ſhould have brav'd the Eaſt an houre agoe.
A blacck day will it be to ſomebody. Ratcliffes.
Ratc. My Lord.
Kin. The Sun will not be ſeen to day,
The skye doth frowne, and lowre upon our Army's.
I would theſe dewy teares were from the ground.
Not ſhine to day ? Why, what is that to me
More then to Richmond ? For the ſelfe-fame Heaven
That frownes on me, lookes fadly upon him.

Enter Norfolke.

Nor. Arme, arme, my Lord : the foe vaunts in the field.
King. Come, buſtle, buſtle. Caparion my horſe.
Cali up Lord Stanley, bid him bring his power,
I will leade forth my Souldiers to the plaine,
And thus my Baſſell ſhall be ordred.
My foreward ſhal be drawne in length,
Conſifting equally of Horſe and Foot :
Our Archers shall be placed in the mid'ft :
John Duke of Norfolke, Thomas Earle of Surrey,
Shall have the leading of the Foot and horſe.
They thus directed, we will follow

In the maine Battell, whoſe puſſance on either fide
Shall be well-winged with our cheifeſt Horſe :
This, and Saint Georgeto boore.
What think'ſt thou Norfolke?

Nor. A good direction warlike Soveraigne,
This found I on my Tent this Morning.

Jockey of Norfolke, be not ſo bold,
For Dickon thy maſſer is brought and ſold.
King. A thing deviled by the Enemy.

Goe Gentlemen, every man to his Charge,
Let not our babling Dreames affright our foules :
For confcience is a word that Cowards uſe,
Devis'd at firſt to keepe the ſtrong in awe,
Our ſtrong armes be our Conſcience; Swords our Law.
March on, joyne bravely, let us too't peli mell,
If not to heaven, then hand in hand to hell.
What ſhall I ſay more then I have inſerr'd?
Remember whom you are to cope withall,
A fort of Vagabonds, Raſcals, Run-awayes,
A ſcum of Brittaines, and bafe Lackey Pezants,
Whom their o're-cloyed Country vomits forth
To desperate Adventures, and aſſur'd Deſtruction.
You ſleeping ſafe, they bring you to unreſt :
You having Lands, and bleft with beauteous wives,
They would reſtraine the one, diſtaine the other.
And who doth leade them, but a paltry Fellow ?

Long kept in Britaine at our Mothers coſt,
A Milke-fop, one that never in his life
Felt ſo much cold, as over hoofes in Snow:
Let's whip theſe Iſtraglers o're the Seas againe,

Lash hence theſe over-weening Ragges of France,
Theſe famiſh'd Beggers, weary of their lives,
Who (but for dreaming on this fond exploſt)
For want of meanes (poore Rats) had hang'd themſelves.

If we be conquered, let men conquer us,
And not theſe baſtard Brittaines, whom our Fathers
Have in their owne Land beaten, bobb'd, and thump'd,
And on Record, left them the heires of ſhame.
Shall theſe enjoy our Lands ? Iye with our Wives ?

Ravish our daughters ?

Drum afarre off.

Hearke, I heare their Drumme,
Right Gentlemen of England, fight boldly yeomen,
Draw Archers, draw your Arrowes to the head,
Spurre your proud Horſes hard, and ride in blood,
Amaze the welkin with your broken ſtaves.

Enter a Meſſenger.

What fayes Lord Stanley, will he bring his power ?

Me. My Lord, he doth deny to come.

Kin. Off with his ſonne Georges head.

Nor. My Lord, the Enemy is paſt the Marſh :
After the battaile, let George Stanley dye.

Kin. A thouſand hearts are great within my boſome.
Advance our Standards, fet upon our Foes,
Our Ancient word of Courage, faire Saint George
Inſpire us with the ſpleene of fiery Dragons :
Vpon them, Victory fits on our helps.

Alarum, excurſions. Enter Catesby.

Cas. Refcue my Lord of Norfolke,
Refcue, Refcne :

The King enaſts more wonders then a man,
Daring an oppoſite to every danger :

His horſe is ſaine, and all on foot he fight,
Seeking for Richmond in the throat of death :
Refcue faire Lord, or eſſe the day is loſt.

Alarums.

Enter

Beyond thoughts Compafle, that former fabulous Story
Being now ſene, poffible enough, got credit
That Bevis was beleev'd.

Buc. Oh yon goarre.

Nor. As I belong to worſhip, and affect
In honor, honeſtly, the tract of ev'ry thing,
Would by a good Difcourser lobe ſome life,
Which Actions ſelfe, was tongue to.

Buc. All was Royall,

To the diſpofing of it nought rebelld,
Order gave each thing view. The Oſlice did
Diftinctly his full Function : who did guide,
I meane who fet the Body, and the Limbes
Of this great Sport together?

Nor. As you gueffe :

Once certes, that promifes no Element
In ſuch a buſineſſe.

Buc. I pray you who, my Lord ?

Nor. Al this was ordred by the good Difcretion
Of the right Reverend Cardinall of Yorke.

Buc. The divell ſpeed him : No mans Pye is freed
From his Ambitious ſinger. What had he
To doe in theſe ſierce Vanities ? I wonder,
That ſuch a Keech can with his very bulke
Take up the Rayes o'th'beneficiall Sun;
And keepe it from the Earth.

Nor. Surely Sir,

There's in him ſtuffe, that put's him to the ſeends :
For being not propt by Auueſtry, whoſe grace
Chalkes Successors their way ; nor call'd upon
For high ſeats done to'th'Crowne ; neither Allied
To eminent Aſſiſtants ; but Spider-like
Out of his ſelfe-drawing Web. O! gives us note,
The force of his owne merit makes his way
A guift that heaven gives for him, which buyes
A place next to the King.

Abur. I cannot tell

What heaven hath given him : let ſome Graver eye
Pierce into that, but I can fee his Pride
Peepe through each part of him : whence ha's he that,
If not from Hell ? the devill is a Niggard,
Or ha's given all before, and he begins
A new hell in himſelfe.

Buc. Why the divell,

Vpon this French going out, tooke he upon him
(Without the privity o'th'King) t'appoint
Who ſhould attend on him ? He makes up the File
Of all the Gentry; for the moſt part ſuch
To whom as grear a Charge, as little Honor
He meant to lay upon : and his owne Letter
The Honourable Boord of Councell, out
Muſt fetch him in, he Papers.

Abur. I doe know

Kinfmen of mine, three at the leaſt, that have
By this, ſo ficken'd their Eſtates, that never
They ſhall abound as formerly.

Buc. O many

Have broke their backes with laying Mannors on 'em
For this great fourney. What did this vanity
But minifter communication of
A moſt poore ſuſe.

Nor. Greevingly I thinke,

The Peace betweene the French and us, not walewes
The Coſt that did conclude it.

Buc. Every man,

After the hideous ſtorme that follow'd, was

A thing inſpir'd, and not confulting, broke
Into a generall Propheſe ; That this Tempeſt
Dafhing the Garment of this Peace, aboaded
The ſedaine breach on't.

Nor. Which is budded out.

For France hath flaw'd the League, and hath attach'd
Our Merchants goods at Burdeaux.

Abur. Is it therefore

Th'Ambaſſador is ſilenc'd?

Nor. Marry is't.

Abur. A proper Title of a Peace, and purchas'd
At a ſuperfluous rate.

Buc. Why all this Buſineſſe
Our Reverend Cardinall carried.

Nor. Like it your Grace,
The State takes notice of the private difference
Betwixt you, and the Cardinall. I advife you
(And take it from a heart, that wishes towards you
Honor, and plenteous ſafety) that you reade
The Cardinals Malice, and his Potency
Together ; To confider further, that
What his high Hatred would effect, wants not
A Minifter in his Power. You know his Nature,
That he's Revenge ſull ; and I know, his Sword
Hath a ſharpe edge : It's long, and't may be ſaid
It reaches farre, and where 'twill not extend,
Thither he darts it. Boſome up my counſell,
You'll find it wholeſome. Loc, where comes that Rocke
That I advife your ſhunning.

Enter Cardinall Wolfey, the Purſe barne before him, certaine of the Guard, and two Secretaries with Papers : The Cardinall in his paſſage, fixeth his eye on Buckingham and Buckingham on him, both full of diſdaine.

Car. The Duke of Buckingham's Surveyor ? Ha?

Where's his Examination ?

Secr. Here ſo pleafe you.

Car. Is he in perſon, ready ?

Secr. I, pleafe your Grace.

Car. Well, we ſhall then know more, and Buckingham
Shall leſſen this bigge looke.

Exeunt Cardinall and his Traine.

Buc. This Butchers Curre is venom'd-mouth'd, and
Have not the power to muzzle him, therefore beſt
Not wake him in his flumber. A Beggers booke,
Out-worths a Nobles blood.

Nor. What are you chaff'd ?

Aske God for Temp'rance, that's ch'appliance only
Which your diſeafe requires.

Buc. I reade in's lookes

Matter againſt me, and his eye revil'd
Me as his abject object, at this inſant
He bores me with ſometricle ; He's gone to'th'King;
Ile follow, and out-ſtare him.

Nor. Stay my Lord,

And let your Reaſon with your Choller queſtion
What 'tis you goe about : to climb e ſteepe hilles
Requires flow pace at firſt. Anger is like
A full hot Horſe, who being allow'd his way
Sefle-mettle tyres him : Not a man in England
Can advife me like you : Be to your ſelfe,
As you would to your Friend.

Buc. Ile to the King,

And from a mouth of Honor, quite cry downe

This

The Life of Henry the Eight.

208

The other moity cre you aske is given,
Repeat your will, and take it.

### Quee.
Thanke your Majeity

That you would love your felfe, and in that love

Not unconfidered leave your honor, nor

The dignity of your Office; is the point
Of my Petition.

### King.
Lady mine proceed.

### Quee.
I am folicited not by a few,

And thole of true condition; That your Subjects

Are in great grievance; There have beene Commissions
Sent downe among 'em, which hath flaw'd the heart
Of all their Loyalties; wherein, although

My good Lord Cardinall, they vent reproches

Moft bitterly on you, as putter on
Of thefe exactions: yet the King, our Maſter
(Not Whofe Honor heaven field from foile; even he eſapes
Language unmannerly) yea, luch which breaks

The fides of loyalty, and almoſt appears
In lowd Rebellion.

### Morſ.
Not almoſt appears,

It doth appeare; for, upon theſe Taxations,

The Clothiers all not able to maintaine

The many to them longing, have put off

The Spinſers, Carders, Fullers, Weavers, who

Vnſit for other life, comped by hunger

And lacke of other meaneſ, in deſperate maner

Daring th'event to th'teeth, are all in uprore,

And danger ſerves among them.

### King.
Taxation?

Wherein ? and what Taxation ? My Lord Cardinall,
You that are blam'd for it alike with us,

Know you of this Taxation ?

### Card.
Pleafe you Sir,

I know but of a ſingle part in ought

Pertaines to th'State: and front but in that ſile

Where others t'll ſteps with me.

### Que.
No, my Lord?

You know no more then others ? But you frame
Things that are knowne alike, which are not wholomeſ

To thofe which would not know them, and yet muſt
Perforce be their acquaintance. Theſe exactions

(Whereof my Sovereaigne would have note) they are
Moft peſtilent to th'hearing, and to beare 'em,

The Backe is Sacrifice to th'load; They ſay

They are devis'd by you, or eſſe you ſuffer

Too hard an exclamation.

### King.
Still Exaction :

The nature of it, in what kind let's know,
Is this Exaction ?

### Que.
I am much too venturous

Intempting of your patience, but am boldned

Vnder your promis'd pardon. The ſubjects griſe

Comes through Commissions, which compels from each

The fixt part of his Subſtance, to believd

Without delay; and the pretence for this

Is nam'd, your warres in France this makes bold mouths
Tongues ſpit their duties out, and cold hearts freeze
Allegiance in them; their curſes now

Live where their prayers did : and it's come to paffe,
This traſtable obedience is a Slave

To each incensed Will : I would your Highneſſe
Would give it quicke consideracion; for
There is no primer bakeneſe.

### King.
By my life,

This is againſt my pleasure.

### Card.
And for me,

I have no further gone in this, then by

A ſingle voyce, and that not paſt me, but

By learned approbation of the judges: if I am

Traduc'd by ignorant Tongues, which neither know
My faculties nor perſon, yet will be

The Chronicles of my doing: Let me ſay,
'Tis but the fate of Place, and the rough Brake

That Vertue muſt goe through: we muſt not flint
Our neceſiary actions, in the ſeare

To cope malicious Cenſurers, which ever,
As rau'nous Fifhes doe a Veffell follow

That is new trim'd; but benefit no further

Then vainly longing. What we eſt doe beſt,

By ſicke interpreters (once weak e ones) is

Not ours, or not allow'd; what worſt, as oft

Hitting a groſſer quality, is cride up

For our beſt Act: if we ſhall ſland full,

In ſeare our motion will be mock'd, or carp'd at,
We should take roote here, where we ſir:
Or fir State Statues only.

### King.
Things done well,

And with a care, exempt them ſelves from ſeare:

Things done without example, in their ſillneſe

Are to be fear'd. Have you a Pteſident

Of this Committed ? I believe, not any.

We muſt not rend our ſubjects from our Lawes,

And ſicke them in our Will. Sixt part of each?

A trembling Contribution; why we take

From every Tree, lop, barke, and part o'th'Timber:

And though we leave it with a roote thus hackt,

The Ayre will drinke the Sap. To every County

Where this is queſtion'd, ſend our Letters, with

Free pardon to each man that has deny'd

The force of this Committed: pray looke too't;

I put it to your care.

### Card.
A word with you.

Let there be Letters writ to every Shire,
Of the Kings grace and pardon : the greemed Commons
Hardly conceive of me. Let it be nois'd,

That through our Interceſſion, this Rovokement

And pardon comes : I ſhall anon advife you

Further in the proceeding.

Exit Secret.

### Enter Surveyor.

### Quee.
I am ſorry, that the Duke of Buckingham
Is run in your diſpleasure.

### King.
It grieves many:

The Gentleman is Learn'd, and a moſt rare Speaker,
To Nature none more bound, his trayning luch,
That he may furniſh and inſtruct great Teachers,
And never ſeeke for ayde out of himſelſe : yet ſee,

When theſe ſo Noble benefits ſhall prove
Not well diſpos'd, the mind growing once corrupt,
They turne to vicious ſormes, ten times more vgly
Then ever they were faire. This man ſo compleat,
Who was enrold 'mongſt wonders; and when we
Almoſt with ravilſh'd listiſng, could not find

His hour of ſpeech, a minute: He, (my Lady)

Hath into monſtrous habits put the Graces

That once were his, and is become as blacke,
As if beſmeard in hell. Sit by Vs, you ſhall heare
(This was his Gentleman in truſt) of him
Things to ſtrike Honour ſad. Bid him recount

The ſote-recited practiſes, whereof

We cannot feele too little, heare too much.

Card

The Life of King Henry the Eight.

Card. Stand forth & with bold spirit relate what you
Moft like a careful Subject have collected
Out of the Duke of Buckingham.
Kiv. Speake freely.

Snr. First, it was uſuall with him; every day
It would infect his Speech: That if the King
Should without ifſue dye; hee'l carry it to
To make the Scepter his. Theſe very words
I've heard himatter to his Sonne in Law,
Lord Aburgany, to whom by oth he menac'd
Revengeupon the Cardinal.
Card. Pleafe your Highneſſe, note

This dangerous conception in this point,
Not friended by his wifh to your High perſon ;
His will is moſt malignant, and it stretches
Beyond you to your friends.

Queen. My learned Lord Cardinal,
Deliver all with Charity.

Kiv. Speake on ;

How grounded he his Title to the Crowne

Vpon our fail; to this poynt haſt thou heard him,
At any time ſpeake ought?

Snr. He was brought to this,

By a vaine Prophetiche of Nicholas Hentom.

Kiv. What was that Hentom ?

Snr. Sir, a Chartreux Fryer,

His Conſeſſor, who ſed him every minute

With words of Soveraignty.

Kiv. How know'ſt thou this?

Snr. Not long before your Highneſſe ſped to France,
The Duke being at the Rofe, within the Parſh
Saint Laurence Poulntey, did of me demand
What was the ſpeech among the Londoners,
Concerning the French Journeу. I replide,
Men ſeare the French would prove perſidious
To the Kings danger : preſently, the Duke
Said, 'twast he ſeare indeed, and that he doubted
Twould prove the verity of certaine words
Spoke by a holy Monke, that oft, fayes he,
Hath ſent to me, wifhing me to permit
Iebon de la Car, my Chaplaine, a choyce howre
To heare from him a matter of ſome moment :
Whom after under the Commiſſions Scale,
He ſollemnly had ſworne, that what he ſpoke
My Chaplaine to no Creature living, but
Tome, ſhould utter, with demure Confidence,
This paufingly enſu'd; neither the King nor's Heyres
(Tell you the Duke) thall proſper, bid him ſtrive
Tothe love o'th' Commonalty, the Duke
Shall governe England.

Queen. If I know you well,
You were the Dukes Surveyor, and loft your Office
On the complaint o'th' Tenants; take good heed
You charge not in your ſplicene a Noble perſon,
And ſpoyle your Noble Soule; I fay, take heed;
Yes, heartily beſeech you.

Kiv. Let him on. Goe forward.

Snr. On my Soule, Ile ſpeake but truth.

Itold my Lord the Duke, by th' Divels illuſions
The Monke might be deceiv'd, and that 'twas dangerous
For this to ruminate on this ſo farre, untill
It ſorg'd him ſome deſigne, which being beſeev'd
It was much like to doe: He anſwer'd, Tuffh,
It can doe me no damage; adding further,
That had the King in his laſt Sicknessneſſ faild,
The Cardinals and Sir Thomas Lovells heads

Should have gone off.

Kiv. Ha? What, ſo rancke? Ah, ha,

There's miſchſchieſe in this man; canſt thou ſay further ?

Sir. I can my Liede.

Kiv. Proceed.

Snr. Being at Greenwich,

After your Highneſſe had reprov'd the Duke

About Sir William Blumer.

Kiv. I remember of ſuch a time, being my ſworn ſer-

The Duke retein'd him his. But on: what hence ?

Snr. If (quoth he) I for this had beene committed,
As to the Tower, I thought; I would have plaid

The Part my Father meant to act upon.

Th' Vſurper Richard, who being at Salisbury,

Made ſuit to come in's prefence; which if granted,
(As he made ſemblance of his duty) would

Have put his knife into him.

Kiv. A Gyant Traytor,

Card. Now Madam, may his Highneſſe live in freedome,
And this man out of Prifon.

Queen. God mend all.

Kiv. Ther's ſomething more would out of thee; what

Snr. After the Duke his Father, with the knife
He ſtretch'd him, and with one hand on his dagger,

Another ſpread on's breaſt, mounting his eyes,

He did diſcharge a horrible Oath, whoſe tenor

Was, were he ill us'd, he would outgoe

His Father, by as much as a perſormance

Do's an irrefolute purpofe.

Kiv. There's his period,

To ſheath his knife in us: he is attach'd,

Call him to prefent tryall : if he may

Finde mercy in the Law, 'tis his; if none,

Let him not ſeeſt of us: By day and night

Hee's Traytor to th' height.

Exeunt.

## Scena Tertia.

Enter L. Chamberlaine and L. Sandys.

L.Cb. Is't poſſible the ſpels of France should juggle
Men into ſuch ſtrange Myſteries?

L.San. New cultomes,

Though they be never ſo ridiculous,

(Nay let 'em be unmanly) yet are follow'd.

L.Cb. As farre as I fee, all the good our English.

Have got by the late Voyage, is but meereſly

A fit or two o'th' face, (but they are ſhrewd ones)

For when they hold 'em, you would ſwere out directly

Their very noſes had been Councellours

To Pepin or Clotharius, they keepe State ſo.

L.San. They have all new legs,

And lame ones; one would take it,

That never fee' em pace before, the Spaven

A Spring-halt reign'd among 'em.

L.Cb. Death my Lord,

Their cloathes are after ſucha Pagan cut too't,

That ſure th' have worne out Chriſtendome: how now ?

What newes, Sir Thomas Lovell?

Enter Sir Thomas Lovell.

Lovell. Faith my Lord,

I heare of none but the new Proclamation,

That's clapt upon the Court Gate.

x

L. Cham.

210

L.Cham. What is't for?
Lou. The reformation of our travel'd Gallants,
That fill the Court with quarrels, talke, and Taylors,
L.Cham. I'm glad 'tis there;
Now I would pray our Monfieurs
To thinke an English Courtier may be wife,
And never fee the Loure.
Lou. They muft cyther
(For so run the Conditions) leave thofe remnants
Of Foole and Feather, that they got in France,
With all their honourable points of ignorance
Pertaining thereunto; as Fights and Fire-workes,
Abufing better men then they can be
Out of a forreigne wifedome, renounccing cleane
The faith they have in Tennis and tall Stockings,
Short bliftr'd Breeches and thofe types of Travell;
And underftand againe like honelt men,
Or pack to their old Playfellowes; there I take it,
They may Cum Privilegio, weare away
The Lag end of their lewdneſſe, and be laugh'd at.
L.San. 'Tis time to give him Phyſicke, their diſeafes
Are growne fo catching.
L.Cham. What a lofe our Ladies
Will have of theſe trim vanities?
Lovell. I marry,
There will be woe indeed Lords, the flye whorſons
Have got a ſpeeding tricke to lay downe Ladies.
A French Song, and a Fiddle, ha's no Fellow.
L.San. The Divell fiddle 'em.
I am glad they are going,
For fire there's no converting of 'em: now
An honeft Country Lord as I am, beaten
A long time out of play, may bring his plaine ſongs,
And have an hour of hearing, and by'r Lady
Held current Mufficke too.
L.Cham. Well faid Lord Sands,
Your Colts tooth is not caſt yet?
L.San. No my Lord,
Nor ſhalt not while I have a ſtumpc.
L. Cham. Sir Thomas,
Whither were you a going?
Lou. To the Cardinals;
Your Lordſhip is a guelt too.
L.Cham. O, 'tis true;
This night he makes a Supper and a great one,
To many Lords and Ladies; there will be
The Beauty of this Kingdome Ile affure you.
Lou. That Churchman
Bears a bounteous minde indeed,
A hand as fruitfull as the Land that feeds us,
His dewes fall every where,
L.Cham. No doubt hee's Noble;
He had a blacke mouth that faid other of him.
L.San. He may my Lord,
Ha's wherewithall in him;
Sparing would ſhow a worſe finne, then ill Doſtrine.
Men of his way, ſhould be moſt liberall,
They are fet here for examples.
L.Cham. True they are ſo;
But few now give ſo great ones:
My Barge ſlayes;
Your Lordſhip ſhall along: Come, good Sir Thomas,
We ſhall be late elfe, which I would not be,
For I was ſpoke to, with Sir Henry Guilford
This night to be Comptrollers.
L.San. I am your Lordſhips.
Exemt.

## Scæna Quarta.

Hoboes. A small Table under a State for the Cardinall,
a longer Table for the Guests. Then Enter Anne Bullen,
and divers other Ladies, & Gentlemen, as Gueſts
at one Doore; at another Doore enter
Sir Henry Guilford.

S.Hen.Guilf. Ladyes,
A generall welcome from his Grace
Salutes yeall; This Night he dedicates
To faire content, and you: None here he hopes
In all this Noble Bevy, has brought with her
One care abroad: he would have all as merry:
As firſt, good Company, good wine, good welcome,
Can make good people.

Enter L. Chamberlaine, L. Sands, and Lovell.
O my Lord, y're tardy;
The very thought of this faire Company,
Clapt wings to me.
Cham. You are young Sir Harry Guilford.
San. Sir Thomas Lovell, had the Cardinall
But halfe my Lay-thoughts in him, ſome of theſe
Should finde a running Banket, ere they reſted,
I thinke would better pleafe 'em: by my life,
They are a freeſt ſocicty of faire ones.
Lov. O that your Lordſhip were but now Conſeſſor,
To one or two of theſe.
San. I would I were,
They ſhould find caſe penance,
Lov. Faith how caſe?
San. As caſe as a downe Bed would aſſord it.
Cham. Sweet Ladies will it pleafe you ſit; Sir Harry
Place you that ſide, Ile take the charge of this:
His Grace is entring. Nay, you muſt not freeze,
Two women plac'd together, makes cold weather:
My Lord Sands, you are one will keepe 'em waking.
Pray fit betweene theſe Ladies.
San. By my faith,
And thanke your Lordſhip: by your Leave freeſt Ladies
If I chance to talk a little wilde, forgive me:
I had it from my Father.
An.Bul. Was he mad Sir?
San. O very mad, exceeding mad, in love too;
But he would bite none, juſt as I doe now,
He would Kifle you Twenty with a breath.
Cham. Well faid my Lord:
So now y're fairely ſeated: Gentlemen,
The permance lyes on you; if theſe faire Ladies
Paſſe away frowning.
San. For my little Cure,
Let me alone.

Hoboes. Enter Cardinall Wolſey, and takes his State.
Card. Y'are welcome my faire Gueſts; that noble Lady
Or Gentleman that is not freely merry
Is not my Fiend. This to confirme my welcome,
And to you all good health.
San. Your Grace is Noble,
Let me have ſuch a Bowle may hold my thankses,
And ſave me ſo much talking,
Card. My Lord Sands.

211

I am beholding to you : cheere your neighbour :

Ladies you are not merry; Gentlemen,

Whoſe fault is this?

San. The red wine firſt muſt rife

In their faire cheekes my Lord, then we shall have 'em,
Take us to ſilence.

San. Buſ. You are a merry Gamſler

My Lord Sands.

San. Yes, if I make my play :

Heer's to your Ladiship, and pledge it Madam :
For 'tis to ſuch a thing.

San. B. You cannot ſhow me.

Drum and Trumpet, Chambers diſcharged.

San. Itoid your Grace, they would take anon.

Card. What's that ?

Cham. Looke out there, ſome of ye.

Card. What warlike voyce.

And to what end is this? Nay, Ladies, ſeare not :

By all the lawes of Warre y'are privileged.

### Enter a Servant.

Cham. How now, what is't ?

Serv. Anoble troupe of Strangers,

For ſo they ſeeme ; th' have left their Barge and landed,

And hither make, as great Embaſſadors
From forſaigne Princes.

Card. Good Lord Chamberlaine,

Go, give 'em welcome; you can ſpeak the French tongue.

And pray receive 'em Nobly, and conduct 'em

Into our prefence, where this heaven of beauty
Shall ſhine at full upon them. Some attend him.

All rife, and Tables remov'd.

You have now a broken Banket, but we'll mend it.

A good diſgeſtion to you all; and once more

I howre a welcome on ye: welcome all.

Hoboyes. Enter King and others as Maskers, habited like
Shepheards, wther'd by the Lord Chamberlaine. They
palle direſtly before the Cardinall, and gracſuſly ſalute
him.

A noble Company : what are their pleafures?

Cham. Because they ſpeak no English, thus they praid
To tell your Grace : That having 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 leave their Flockes, and under your faire conduct
Crave leave to view their Ladies, and entreat

An houre of Revels with 'em.

Card. Say, Lord Chamberlaine,

They have done my poore houſe grace :

For which I pay 'em a thouſand thankes,

And pray 'em take their pleafures.

Choose Ladies, King and Anne Bullen.

King. The faireſt hand I ever touch'd : O Beauty,
Till now I never knew thee.

Muſſicke, 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 love and duty

I would forrrender it.

Whisper.

Cham. I will my Lord.

Card. What ſay they ?

Cham. Such a one, they all confefſe

There is indeed, which they would have your Grace
Find out, and he will take it.

Card. Let me fee then,

By all your good leaves Gentlemen; heere Ile make
My royall choyce.

Kin. Ye have found him Cardinall,

You hold a faire AsSEMBly, you doe well Lord.

You are a Churchman, or Ile tell you Cardinall,
I ſhould judge now unhappily.

Card. I am glad

Your Grace is growne ſo pleafant.

Kin. My Lord Chamberlaine,

prethee come hither, what faire Ladie's that?

Cham. An't pleate your Grace,

Sir Thomas Bullens Daughter, the Vifcount Rochford,
One of her Highneſſe women.

Kin. By Heaven he is a dainty one,

Sweet heart, I were unmanly to take you out,

And not to kiffe you. A health Gentlemen,

Let it goe round.

Card. Sir Thomas Lovell, is the Banket ready

I'th' Privy Chamber?

Lov. Yes, my Lord.

Card. Your Grace

I ſeare, with dancing is a little heated.

Kin. I ſeare too much.

Card. There's freſher ayre my Lord,
In the next Chamber.

Kin. Lead in your Ladies ev'ry one : Sweet Partner,
I muſt not yet forſake you : Let's be merry,

Good my Lord Cardinall: I have haſe 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 favour. Let the Muſſicke knock it.

Exeunt with Trumpets.

## Attus Secundus. Scena Prima.

Enter two Gentlemen at ſeverall Doores.

1. Whither away fo faſt?

2. O, God fave ye :

Ev'n to the Hall, to heare what ſhall become
Of the great Duke of Buckingham.

1. Ile fave you

That labour Sir. All's now done but the Ceremony
Of bringing backe the Prifoner.

2. Were you there?

1. Yes indeed was I.

2. Pray ſpeak what ha's happen'd.

1. You may gueſſe quickly what.

2. Is he found guilty?

1. Yes truely is he,

And condemn'd upon't.

2. I am forry fort.

1. So are a number more.

2. But pray how palt it?

1. Ile tell you in a little. The great Duke
Came to the Bar; where, to his accufations

He pleaded full nor guilty, and alleaded

Many ſharpe reaſons to defeat the Law.

The Kings Atturney on the contrary;

Vrg'd on the Examinations, proofes, conſeſſions

x 2

Of

["The Life of King Henry the Eight.", "And give your hearts to ; when they once perceive\nThe leaft rub in your fortunes, fall away\nLike water from ye, never found againe\nBut where they meane to sinke ye : all good people\nPray for me, I muft now forfale ye; the laft houre\nOf my long weary life is come upon me :\nFarewell; and when you would fay fomething that is faſ,\nSpeake how I fell.\nI have done; and God forgive me.", "Exeunt Duke and Traine.", "1. O, this is full of pitty; Sir, it cals\nIfare, too many curles on their heads\nThat were the Authors.", "2. If the Duke be guiltleſſe,\nTis full of woe: yet I can give you inchling\nOf an enfuing evil, if it fall,\nGreater then this.", "1. Good Angels keepe it from us :", "What may it be? you doe not doubt my faith Sir?\n2. This Secret is to weighty, 'twill require\nA strong faith to conceal it.", "1. Let me have it;", "I do not talke much.", "2. I am confident;", "You shall Sir: Did you not of late dayes heart\nAbuzzing of a Separation\nBetweene the King and Katherine?", "1. Yes, but it held not;\nFor when the King once heard it, out of anger\nHe ſent command to the Lord Mayor ſtraight\nTo ſtop the rumor; and allay thofe tongues\nThat durſt diſperſe it.", "2. But that ſlander Sir,", "Is found a truth now: for it growes agen\nFrether then e're it was; and held for cerne\nThe King will venture at it. Either the Cardinal,\nOr ſome about him neere, have out of malice\nTo the good Queene, poſſeſt him with a cruple\nThat will undoe her: To confirme this too,\nCardinall Campeius is arriv'd, and lately,\nAs all thinke for this buſineſſe.", "1. 'Tis the Cardinal;", "And merely to revenge him on the Emperour,\nFor not beſtowing on him at his asking,\nThe Archbifhopricke of Toledo, this is purpós'd.", "2. I thinke.", "You have hit the marke; but is't not cruell,\nThat the ſhould feele the ſmart of this: the Cardinal\nWill have his will, and the muſt fall.", "1. 'Tis wofull.", "Wee are too open hereere to argue this:\nLet's thinke in private more.", "Exeunt.", "## Scena Secunda.", "Enter Lord Chamberlaine, reading this Letter.", "M\nY\nT\nL\no\ny\no\nu\nh\no\np\no\ny\no\nn\no\ny\no\nn\no\ny\no\n

215

And range with humble livers in Content,
Then to be perk'd up in a gliftring griefe,
And weare a golden forrow.

Old L. Our content

Is our best having.

Anne. By my troth, and Maidenhead,
I would not be a Queene.

Old L. Befrew me, I would,

And venture Maidenhead for't, and so would you
For all thisispce of your Hipocrifie ;
You that have to faire parts of Woman on you,
Have (too) a Womans heart, which ever yet
Affected Eminence, Wealth, Soveraignty ;
Which, to fay footh, are Bleffings ; and which guifts
(Saving your mincing) the capacity
Of your soft Chiverell Conſcience, would receive,
If you might pleafe to ftreft it.

An. Nay, good troth.

Old L. Yes troth,& troth: you would not be a Queen?
An. No, not for all the riches under Heaven.

Old L. Tis ftrange; a three pence bow'd now would hire
Olds I am, to Queene it: but I pray you,
What thinke you of a Dutcheſſe? Have you limbs
Tobeare 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 blufhing comes to: If your backe
Cannot vouchſaſe this burthen, 'tis too weake
Ever to get a Boy.

An. How you doe talke ;

If weare againe, I would not be a Queene,
For all the world.

Old L. In faith for little England

You'll venture an emballing : I my ſelſe
Would for Carnarvanſoire, 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 wer't worth to
The ſecret of your conference?

An. My good Lord,

Not your demand; it valewes not your asking:
Our Miltris Sorrowes we were pittying.

Cham. It was a gentlebluſe 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, & heav'nly bleffings
Follow ſuch Creatures. That you may, faire Lady
Perceive I peake ſincerely, and high notes
Tane of your many vertues; the Kings Majeſty
Commends his good opinion of you, to you; and
Doe's purpofe honour to you no leſſe flowing,
Then Marchioneſſe of Pembrooke; to which Title,
A Thonſand pound a yeare, Annuall ſupport,
Out of his Grace, he address.

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 peake my thankes, and my obedience,
As from a blufhing Handmaid, to his Highneſſe ;

Whole health and Royalty I pray for:

Cham. Lady;

I'll not faile t' approve the faire conceit

The King hath of you. I have perus'd her well,
Beauty and Honour in her are ſo mingled,

That they have caught the King : and who knowes yet

But from this Lady, may proceed a Iemme,
To lighten all this Ile? I'le to the King,

And fay I ſpoke with you.

Exit Lord Chamberlaine.

An. My honour'd Lord.

Old L. Why this it is: See, fee,

I have beene begging fixteene yeares in Court

(Am yet a Courtier beggerly) 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 upon

This compel'd fortune : have your mouth ſild up,
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 ; have you heard it ?

An. Come you are pleafant.

Old L. With your Theame, I could

O're-mount the Larke : The Marchioneſſe of Pembrooke?
A thouſand pounds a yeare, for pure ſ respects ?

No other obligation t' by my Life,

That promifes mo thouſands : Honours traine

Is longer then his fore-skirt; by this time

I know your backe will beare a Dutcheſſe. Say's,

Are you not ſtronger then you were?

An. Good Lady,

Make your ſelfe mirth with your particular ſancy,

And leave me out on't. Would I had no being

If this ſalute my blood ajot ; it faints me

To thinke what follows.

The Queene is comfortleſſe, and we forgetfull

In our long abſence : pray doe not deliver,

What heere y' have heard to her.

Old L. What doe you thinke me — Exeunt.

## Scena Quarta.

Trumpets, Sonnet, and Cornets.

Enter two Vergers, with ſhort fitler wands; next them two
Scribes in the habite of Doctors : after them, the Bisſop of
Canterbury alone; after him, the Bishops of Lincoln, Ely,
Rochefour, and S. Afaph: Next them, with ſome ſmall
distance, followes a Gentleman bearing the Purſe, with the
great Senle, and a Cardinals Hat: Then two Prieffs, bea-
ting each a Silver Croſſe: Then a Gentleman Uſher 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 Cardinali,
two Noble men, with the Sword and Mace. The King takes
place under the Cloth of State. The two Cardinalls fit
under him as Indiges. The Queene takes place ſome di-
stance from the King. The Bishops place themselves on
each ſide the Court in manner of a Conſistory: Below them
the Scribes. The Lords fit next the Bishops. Thereft of the
Attendants ſtand in convenient order about the Stage.

Card.

Car. Whilft our Commission from Rome is read,
Let silence be commanded.

King. What's the need ?

It hath already publiquely bene read,
And on all fides th' Authority allow'd,
You may then fpare that time.

Car. Bee't fo, 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.

Cries. Katherine Queene of England, &c.

The Queene makes no answer, rifes out of her Chaire,
goes about the Court, comes to the King, and kneeles at
his Feete. Then fpeakes.

Sir, I defire you do me right and Inftice,
And to beftow your pitty on me; for
I am a moft poore Woman, and a ftranger,
Borne out of your Dominions: having heere
No Iudge indifferent, nor no more aflurance
Of equall Friendfhip and Proceeding. Alas Sir :
In what have I offended you? What caufe
Hath my behaviour given to your difpleasure,
That thus you fhouid proceed to put me off,
And take your good grace from me? Heaven wittneſſe,
I have bene to you a true and humble Wife,
At all times to your will conformable :

Ever in feare to kindle your Diflike,
Yea, ſubject to your Countenance: Glad, or forry,
As I faw it inclin'd? when was the houre
I ever contradicted your Deſire?

Or made it not mine too ? Or which of your Friends

Have I not ſproved to love, although I knew
He were mine Enemey ? What Friend of mine,
That had to him deriv'd your Anger, did I
Continue in my Liking ? Nay, gave notice
He was from thence diſcharg'd ? Sir, call to minde,
That I have beene your Wifc, in this Obedience,
Vpward of twenty yeares, and have bene bleſt
With many Children by you. If in the courfe
And proceſſe of this time you can report,
And prove it too, againſt mine Honour aught;
My bond to Wedlocke, or my love and Duty
Againſt your Sacred Perſon ; in Gods name
Turne me away: and let fowlſt Contempt
Shut doore upon me, and ſo give me up
To the ſharp'it kinde of Inſtice. Pleafe you, Sir,

The King your Father, was reputed for
A Prince moſt Prudent; and an excellent
And unmatch'd Wif, and Judgement, Ferdinand
My Father, King of Spaine, was reckon'd one
The wifcſt Prince, that there had reign'd, by many
A ycare before. It is not to be question'd,
That they had gather'd a wife Councell to them
Of every Realme, that did debate this Buſineſſe,
Who deem'd our Marriage lawfull. Wherefore I humbly
Befeech you Sir, to ſpare me, till I may
Be by my Friends in Spaine, advis'd; whofe Counſaile
I will implore. If not, i' th' name of God
Your pleasure be fullſill'd.

Wol. You have heere Lady.

(And of your choice) theſe reverend Fathers, men
Of ſingular Integrity, and Learning;
Yea, the elect o'th' Land, who are affembled
To pleade your Caufe. It ſhall be therefore booteſſe,

That longer you defire the Court, as well
For your owne quiet, as to rectifie
What is unfetled in the King.

Camp. His Grace

Hath ſpoken well, and juſtly: Therefore Madam,
It's fit this Royall ſeffion do proceed,
And that (without delay) their Arguments
Be now produc'd, and heard.

Qu. Lord Cardinal, to you I speake.

Wol. Your pleafure, Madam.

Qu. Sir, I am about to weepe; but thinking that
We are a Queene (or long have 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 punifh me. I do beleeve
(Induc'd by potent Circumſtances) that
You are mine Enemey, and make my Challenge.
You shall not be my Iudge. For it is you
Have blowne this Coale, betwixt my Lord, and me;
(Which Gods dew quench) therefore, I lay againe,
I utterly 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 ſpeak not like your ſelfe: who ever yet
Have ſtood to Charity: and diſplayd th' effects
Of diſpoſition gentle, and of wifdome,
Ore-topping womans powre. Madam, you do me wrong
I have no Spleene againſt you, nor injuſtice
For you, or any: how farre I have proceed'd,
Or how farre further (Shall) is warrantd
By a Commifſion from the Conſiſtory;
Yea, the whole Conſiſtorie of Rome. You charge me,
That I have blowne this Coale: I do deny it,
The King is prefent: If it be knowne to him,
That I gainſay my Deed, how may he wound,
And worthily my Fall: eathood, yea, as much
As you have 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
Remove theſe thoughts from you. The which before
His Highneſſe ſhall ſpeak e in, I do beſeech
You (gracious Madam) to unthinte your ſpeaking,
And to lay no more.

Quee. My Lord, my Lord,
I am a ſimple woman, much too weake
T'oppofe your cunning. Y'are meek, & humble-mouth'd,
You ſigne your place, and Calling, in full ſeeming,
With Meekeneſſe and Humilitie: But your Heart
Is cramm'd with Arrogaſſe, Spleene, and Pride.
You have by Fortune, and his Highneſſe favors,
Gone flightly o're lowe ſteppes, and now are mounted
Where Powres are your Retainers, and your words
(Domeſtickes to you) ſerve your will; as't pleafe
Your ſelfe pronounce their Office. I muſt tell you,
Youtender more your perſons Honor, then
Your high proſſion Spirituall. That agen
I do reſuſe you for my Iudge, and heere
Before you all. Appcale unto the Pope,
To bring my whole Caufe 'fore his Holineſſe,
And to be judg'd by him.

She Curiſes to the King, and offers to depart.

Camp.

Camp. The Queene is obfinate,
Stubbome to Juſtice, apt to accufe it, and
Difdainfull 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. V. Madam, you are cald backe.
Que. What need you note it? pray you keep your way,
When you are cald returne. Now the Lord helpe,
They vexe me paſt my patience, pray you paffe on;
I will not tarry: no, nor ever more
Upon this buſineſſe my appearance make,
In any of their Courts.

Exit Queene, and her Attendants.

Kin. Go thy wayes Kate,

That man it h' world, who ſhall report he ha's
A better Wifep, let him in nought be truſted,
For speaking falſe in that; Thou art alone
(Ithry rare qualities, fewe gentlenſe of,
Thy meekneſſe Saint-like, Wifep-like Government,
Obeying in commanding, and thy parts
Sovereaigne and Pious, could ſpake thee out)
The Queene of earthly Queenes: Shee's Noble bom:
And like her true Nobility, ſhe ha's
Carried her ſelfe towards me.

Wol. Moſt gracious Sir,

In humbleſt manner I require your Highneſſe,
That it ſhall pleafe you to declare in hearing
Of all theſe eares (for where I am rob'd and bound,
There muſt I be unloos'd, although not there
At once, and fully fatiſſe) whether ever I
Did broach this buſines to your Highnes, or
Laid any ſuple in your way which might
Induce you to the queſtion on't: or ever
Have to you, but with thanks to God for ſuch
A Royall Lady, ſpake one, the leaſt word that might
Be to the prejudice of her preſent State,
Or touch of her good Perſon ?

Kin. My Lord Cardinall,

I do excufe you; yea, upon mine Honour,
I free you from't: You are not to be taught
That you have many enemies, that know not
Why they are ſo, but like the 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 juſtifi'd? You ever
Have with'd the ſleeping of this buſines, never defir'd
It to be ſir'd; but oft have hindred, or of
The paffages made toward it; on my Honour,
I ſpake my good Lord Cardinall to this point;
And thus farre cleare him.
Now, what mov'd me too't,

I will be bold with time and your attention : (too't:
Then marke th' inducement. Thus it came; give heede
My Conſcience firſt receiv'd a tenderneſſe,
Scruple, and pricke, on certaine Speeches utter'd
By th' Bifhop of Bayon, then French Embaſſador,
Who had beene hither ſent on the debating
And Marriage 'twixt the Duke of Orleance, and
Our Daughter Mary: I' th' Progreſſe of this buſineſſe,
Ere a determinate reſolution, hee
(I meane the Bifhop) did requite a reſpife,
Wherein he might the King his Lord adverſit,
Whether our daughter were legitimate,
Reſpeſting this our Marriage with the Dowager,
Sometimes our Brothers Wife. This reſpite ſhooke

The boſome of my Conſcience, enter'd me;
Yea with a ſplitting power, and made to tremble
The region of my Breaſt, which ſore'd ſuch way,
That many maz'd confiderings, did throng
And preſſt in with this Caution. Firſt, I thought
I ſtood not in the ſmile of Heaven, who had
Commanded Nature, that my Ladies wombe
If it conceiv'd a male-child by me, ſhould
Doe no more Offices of life too't; then
The Grave does to th' dead: For her Male Iſſue,
Or di'd where they were made, or ſhortly after
This world had ay'd them. Hence I took a thought,
This was a judgment on me, that my Kingdome
(Well worthy the beſt Heyre o'th' World) ſhould not
Be glad in't by me. Then followes, that
I weigh'd the danger which my Realmes ſtood in
By this my Iſſues ſaile, and that gave to me
Many a groaning throw: thus hulling in
The wilde Sea of my Conſcience; I did ſteere
Toward this remedy, whereupon we are
Now preſent heere together: that's to ſay,
I meant to rectifie my Conſcience, which
I then did ſeele full ſicke, and yet not well,
By all the reverend 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 mov'd you.

B. Lin. Very well my Liedge.

Kin. I have ſpoke long, be pleas'd your ſelfe to ſay:
How farre you fatiſſe me.

Lin. So pleafe your Highneſſe,
The queſtion did at firſt ſo ſagger me,
Bearing a ſtate of mighty moment in't,
And conſequence of dread, that I committed
The daring ſo Counſaile which I had to doubt,
And did intreat your Highneſſe in this course,
Which you are running heere.

Kin. I then mov'd you,
My Lord of Canterbury, and got your leave
To make this preſent Summons uſoſicated.
I left no reverend perſon in this Court,
But by particular conſent proceeded
Under your hands and Scales: therefore goe on,
For no diflike it h' world againſt the perſon
Of our good Queene; but the ſharpe thorny points
Of my alleged reaſons, drives this forward :
Prove 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 Highneſſe,

The Queene being abſent, 'tis a needfull fitneſſe,
That we adiourne this Court further day;
Meane while muſt be an earneſt motion
Made to the Queene to call backe her Appeale
She intends unto his holineſſe.

Kin. I may perceive
Theſe Cardinals trifle with me: I abhorre
This dilatory floth, and tricks of Rome.
My learn'd and welbeloved Servant Cranmer,
Prethee returne, with thy approach: I know,
My comfort comes along: breake up the Court;
Ifay, fet on.

Exeunt, in manner as they enter'd.

Actus

Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Enter Queene and her Women as at workes.

**Queen.** Take thy Lute wench,
My Soule growes ad with troubles,
Sing, and disperſe 'em if thou canſt: leave working:

SONG.
O Raphus with his Lute made Trees,
And the Mountaine tops that freeze,
Bow themselves when he did sing.
To his Musiſke, Plants and Flowers
Ever spring; as Sunne and Showres,
There had made a Lasting Spring,
Every thing that heard him play,
Even the Billowes of the Sea,
Hving their heads, and then lay by.
In ſweet Mifſike is ſuch Art,
Kiling care, and griefe of heart,
Fall afterpe, or hearing dye.

Enter a Gentleman.

**Queen.** How now?

**Gent.** And not pleafe your Grace, the two great Cardinals
Wait in the prefence.

**Queen.** Would they ſpeake with me?

**Gent.** They wil'd me ſay to Madam.

**Queen.** Pray their Graces.

To come neere: what can be their buſineſſe
With me, a poore weake woman, falne from favour,
I doe not like their comming; now I thinke on't,
They ſhould be good men, their affairs are righteous,
But all Hoods, make not Monkes.

Enter the two Cardinalls, Wolsey & Campian.

**Wolf.** Peace to your Highneſſe.

**Queen.** Your Graces find me heere part of a Houſwife,
(I would be all) againſt the worſt may happen:
What are your pleatures with me, reverend Lords?

**Wolf.** May it pleafe you Noble Madam, to withdraw
Into your private Chamber; we ſhall give you
The full cauſe of our comming.

**Queen.** ſpeake it heere.
There's nothing I have done yet o' my Conſcience
Deferves a Corner: would all other Women
Could ſpeake this with as free a Soule as I doe,
My Lords, I care not( for much I am happy
Above a number) if my action
Were tri'd by ev'ry tongue, ev'ry eye ſaw' em,
Envy and bafe opinion ſet againſt 'em,
I know my life ſo even. If your buſines
Seeke me out, and that way I am Wife in;
Out with it boldly: Truth loves open dealing.

Card. Tanta eſt erga me tementis integritas (Regina ſeremissima.)

**Queen.** Good my Lord, no Latin;
I am not ſuch a Truant ſince my comming,
As not to know the Language I have liv'd in: (oins:
A ſtrange Tongue makes my cauſe more ſtrange, ſuppiti-
Pray ſpeake in English; heere are ſome will chanke you,
If you ſpeake truth, for their poore Miftris ſake;
Believe me ſhe ha's had much wrong. Lord Cardinall,
The willing'it ſiune I ever yet committed,
May be abſolv'd in English.

Card. Noble Lady,

I am forry my integrity ſhould breed,
(And ſervice to his Majcſty and you)
So deepe ſuppition, where all faith was meant;
We come not by the way of Accufation,
To taint that honour every good Tongue bleſſes;
Nor to betray you any way to forrow;
You have 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 honcſt men) our juſt opinions,
And comforts to your cauſe.

Camp. Moſt honour'd Madam,
My Lord of Yorke, out of his Noble nature,
Zeale and obedience he ſill 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 Service, and his Counſell.

**Queen.** To betray me.
My Lords, I thanke you both for your good wills,
Ye ſpeake like honcſt men, (pray God) ye prove to;
But how to make ye ſodainly an Anſwere
In ſuch a point of weight, ſo neere mine Honour,
(More neere my Life I ſeafe) with my weake wit;
And to ſuch men of gravity and learning;
In truth I know not. I was ſet at worke,
Among my Maids, full little (God knowes) looking
Either for ſuch men, or ſuch buſineſſe;
For her iakke that I have beene, for I ſeel
The laſt fit of my Greatneſſe; good your Graces
Let me have time and Councell for my Cauſe:
Alas, I am a Woman friendleſſe, hopeleſſe.

**Wolf.** Madam,
You wrong the Kings love with theſe ſeares,
Your hopes and friends are infinite.

**Queen.** 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 Highneſſe pleature,
(Though he be growne ſo delſperate to be honcſt)
And live a Subject? Nay for ſooth my friends,
They that mult weigh out my affiCTIONS,
They that my truſt muſt grow to, live not heere,
They are (as all my other comforts) far hence
In mine owne Country Lords.

Camp. I would your Grace
Would leave your graeſes, and take my Counſell.

**Queen.** How Sir?

Camp. Put your maine cauſe into the Kings protection,
Hee's loving and moſt gracious. 'Twill be much,
Both for your Honour better, and your Cauſe:
For if the tryall of the Law o'retake ye,
You'l part away diſgrac'd.

**Wolf.** He tells you rightly.

**Queen.** Ye tell me what ye will for both, my ruine:
Is this your Chriſtian Councell? Out upon ye.
Heaven is above all yet; there ſits a Iudge,
That no King can corrupt.

Camp. Your rage miſtakes us.

**Queen.** The more ſhame for ye; holy men I thought ye,
Vpon my Soule two reverend Cardinall Vertues:
But Cardinall Sins, and hollow hearts I ſeafe 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, I'cond?
I will not wifh ye halfe my miſeries,

I have more Charity. But fay I warn'd ye;
Take heed, for heavens fake take heed, leaft at once
The burthen of my forrowes, fall upon ye.

Car. Madam, this is a meere distraction,

You turne the good we offer, into envy.

Q. Que. Ye turne me into nothing. Woe upon ye,
And all such falfe professors. Would you have me

Alas, his banifht me his bed already,
His Love, too long ago. I am old my Lords,
And all the fellowship I hold now with him

Put my ficele caufe into his hands, that hates me ?
Is only by Obedience. What can happen

To me, above this wretchedneſſe ? All your Studies
Make me a Curſe, like this:

Camp. Your ſeares are worſe.

Q. Have I liv'd thus long (let me ſpeake my ſelſe,
Since Vertue findes no friends) a Wifewrue one?

A Woman (I dare fay without Vainglory)

Never yet branded with ſuſpition ?
Have I, with all my full Affections

Still met the King? Lov'd him next Heav'n? Obey'd him?

Bin (out of fondneſſe) ſuperflitious 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 joy, 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.
Q. Que. My Lord,
I dare not make my ſelfe ſo guilty,

To give up willingly that Noble Title
Your Matter wed me to : nothing but death

Shall e're divorce your Dignities.

Card. Pray heare me.
Q. Would I had never trod this English Earth,

Or feit the Flatteries that grow upon it :

Ye have Angels Faces; but Heaven knowes your hearts.
What ſhall become of me now, wretched Lady ?
I am the moſt unhappy Woman living.

Alas (poore Wenches) where are now your Fortunes ?
Shipwrack'd upon a Kingdome, where no Pitty,
No Friends, no Hope, no Kindred weepe for me?

Almoſt no Grave allow'd me ? Like the Lilly
That once was Miftris of the Field, and flourish'd,

Ile hang my head, and perſuade.

Car. If your Grace
Could but be brought to know, our ends are honeſt,
You'd feele more comfort. Why ſhold we (good Lady)
Vpon what caufe wrong you? Alas, our Places,

The way of our Proſection is againſt it;

Weare to Cure ſuch forrowes, not to ſowe 'em.
For goodneſſe fake, consider what you doe,

How you may hurt your ſelfe : I, utterly
Grow from the Kings Acquaintance, by this Carriage.

The hearts of Princes kiffe Obedience,
So much they love it. But to ſubborne Spirits,

They ſwell and grow, as terrible as ſtormes.

I know you have a Gentle, Noble temper,
A Soule as even as a Calme ; Pray think e us,

Thofe we profeſſe, Peace-makers, Friends, and Servants.

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, ever caſts

Such doubts as falſe Coine from it. The King loves you,
Beware you loofe it not : For us (if you pleate

To truſt us in your buſineſſe) we are ready
To uſe our utmoſt Studies, in your ſervice.

Q. Do what ye will, my Lords ;

And pray ſorgive me ;

If I have us'd my ſelfe unmannerly,

You know I am a Woman lacking wit

To make a feemely anſwer to ſuch perſons.

Pray do my ſervice to his Maſejſtie,

He ha's my heart yet, and ſhall have my Prayers

While I ſhall have my life. Come reverend Fathers,

Beflow your Councils on me. She now begges

That little thought when ſhe let footing heere,

She ſhould have bought her Dignities ſo deere Exeunt.

## Scena Secunda.

Enter the Duke of Norfolk, Duke of Suffolk, Lord Surrey, and Lord Chamberlaine.

Norf. If you will now unite in your Complaints,

And force them with a Conſtancy, the Cardinall

Cannot ſtand under them. If you omit

The offer of this time, I cannot promife,

But that you ſhall ſuſtaint me moe new diſgraces,

With theſe you beare already.

Sur. I am joyfull

To meete the leaſt occasion, that may give me
Remembrance of my Father-in-Law the Duke,

To be reveng'd on him.

Suf. Which of the Peeres

Have uncontemn'd gone by him, or at leaſt

Strangely neglected ? When did he regard

The ſtampe of Noblenſſe in any perſon

Out of himſeife ?

Cham. My Lords, you ſpeake your pleatures :

What he deferves of you and me, I know :

What we can do to him (though now the time

Gives way to us) I much ſeare. If you cannot

Barre his acceſſe to th' King, ne'er attempt

Any thing on him ; for he hath a witchcraft

Over 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 ever marres

The Hony of his Language. No, he's fetled
(Not to come off ) in his diſpleaſure.

Suv. Sir,

I ſhould be glad to heare ſuch Newes as this
Once every houre.

Nor. Beleeve it, this is true.

In the Divorce, his contrarie proceedings
Are all unfolded: wherein he appeares,
As I would with mine Enemy.

Suv. How came

His practifes to light ?

Suf. Moſt ſtrangely.

Suv. O how? how?

Suv. The Cardinall's Letters to the Pope miſcarried,

And

And come to th' eye o' th' King, wherein was read

How that the Cardinall did intreat his Holinesse
To stay the Judgement o' th' Divorce; for if

It did take place, I do (quoth he) perceive
My King is tangled in affection, to

A Creature of the Queenes, Lady Anne Bullen.

Sur. Ha's the King this?

Suf. Beleeve it.

Sur. Will this worke?

Cham. The King in this perceives him, how he coacts
And hedges his owne way. But in this point,

All his trickes founder, and he brings his P hysicke
After his patients death; the King already

Hath married the faire Lady.

Sur. Would he had.

Suf. May you be happy in your self with my Lord,
For I profeſſe you have it.

Sur. Now all my joy

Trace the Conjunction.

Suf. My Amen too't.

Ner. All mens.

Suf. There's order given for her Coronation:
Marry this is yet but yong, and may be left
To fome eares unrecounted. But my Lords
She is a gallant Creature, and compleate
In minde and feature, I perſwade me, from her
Will fall fome bleſſing to this Land, which ſhall
In it be memoriz'd.

Sur. But will the King

Difſeft this Letter of the Cardinals ?
The Lord forbid.

Nor. Marry Amen.

Suf. No, no :

There be moe Wafes that buz about his Nofe,
Will make this ſting the ſooner. Cardinall Campinas,
Is ſtolne away to Rome, hath 'tane no leave,
Ha's left the caufe to th' King unhandled, and
Is poſted as the Agent of our Cardinall,
To ſecond all his plot. I do affure you,
The King cry'd Ha, at this.

Chams. Now God incenſe him.

And let him cry Ha, lowder.

Nor. But my Lord

When returns Cranmer?

Suf. He is return'd in his opinions, which
Have ſatified the King for his Divorce,
Together with all famous Colledges
Almoſt in Chriſtendome : ſhortly (I beleeve)
His ſecond Marriage ſhall be pubſtliſh, and
Her Coronation. Katherine no more
Shall be call'd Queene, but Princeſſe Dowager,
And Widdow to Prince Arthur.

Nor. This fame Cranmer's

A worthy Fellow, and hath tane much paine
In the Kings buſineſſe.

Suf. He ha's, and we ſhall ſee him
For it, an Arch-byſhop.

Nor. So I heare.

Suf. 'Tis ſo.

Enter Wolſey and Cromwell.

The Cardinall.

Nor. Obſerve, obſerve, hee's moody.

Car. The Packet Cromwell,
Gav't you the King ?

Crom. To his owne hand, in's Bed-chamber.

Card. Look'd he o' th' inside of the Paper ?

Crom. Prefently

He did unſeale them, and the firſt he view'd,
He did it with a Serious minde: a heede
Was in his countenance. You he bade
Attend him heere this Morning.

Card. Is he ready to come abroad ?

Crom. I thinke by this he is.

Card. Leave me a while.

Exit Cromwell.

It ſhall be to the Dutches of Alanſon,
The French Kings Sifter; He ſhall marry her.

Anne Bullen? No: Ileno Anne Bullens for him,
There's more in't then faire Vifage. Bullen?

No, weel no Bullens: Speedily I with

To heare from Rome. The Marchioneſſe of Penbroke?

Nor. He's diſcontented.

Suf. May be 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 ſnuffe it,
Then out it goes. What though I know her vertuous
And well deferving ? yet I know her for
A ſpleeny Lutheran, and not wholſome to
Our caufe, that he ſhould lye i'th' boſome of
Our hard rul'd King. Againe, there is ſprung up
An Heretique, an Arch-one; Cranmer, one
Hath crawl'd into the favour of the King,
And is his Oracle.

Nor. He is vex'd at ſomething.

Enter King, reading of a Scedule.

Suf. I would 'twer ſomething y would fret the ſtring,
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 'th' hour
Seemes to flow from him ? How, i'th' name of Thrift
Does he rake this together ? Now my Lords,
Saw you the Cardinall?

Nor. My Lord, we have
Stood heere obſerving him. Some ſtrange Commotion
Is in his braine: He bites his lip and flarts,
Stops on a ſodaine, lookes upon the ground,
Then layes his finger on his Temple: ſtraight
Springs out into ſaſt gate, then flops againe,
Strikes his breſt hard, and anon, he caſts
His eye againſt the Moone: in moſt ſtrange Poſures
We have ſeene him ſet himſeſſe.

King. It may well be,
There is a mutiny in's mind. This morning,
Papers of State he ſent me, to perſue
As I requi'd : and wot you what I found
There (on my Conſcience put unwitingly)
Forfooth an inventorie, thus importing
The ſeverall parcels of his Plate, his Treafure,
Rich ſtuffes and Ornaments of Honſhold, which
I finde at ſuch proud Rate, that it out-ſpeaks
Poſſeffion of a Subject.

Nor. It's heavens will,
Some Spirit put this paper in the Packet,
To bleſſe your eye with all.

King. If we did thinke

His

221

His Contemplations were above the earth,
And fix on ipiritual object, he should still
Dwell in his Mufings, but I am afraid
His Thinkings are below the Moone, not worth
His ferious confidering.

King takes his Seat, whiffers Lovell, who goes
to the Cardinall.

Car. Heaven forgive me,
Ever God bleffes your Highneſſe.

King. Good my Lord,
You are full of Heavenly ſtuffe, and beare the Inventory.
Of your beſt Graces, in your minde, the which
You were now running o're: you have ſcarſe time
To ſteale from Spirituall leyſure, a briefe Ipan
To keepe your earthly Audit, ſure in that
I deeme you an ill Husband, and am glad
To have you therein my Companion.

Car. Sir,
For Holy Oſſices I have a time; a time
To thinke upon the part of buſineſſe, which
I beare i'th'State; and Nature does require
Hertimes of prefervation, which perſence
I her fraile ſonne, among'th my Brethren mortall.
Muſt give my tendance to.

King. You have faſd well.

Car. And ever may your Highneſſe yoakcs together,
(As I will lend you cauſe) my doing well,
With my well ſaying.

King. 'Tis well faſd agen,
And 'tis a kinde of good deede to ſay well,
And yet words are no deeds. My Father lov'd you,
He faſd he did, and with his deed did Crowne
His word upon you. Since I had my Oſſice,
I have kept you next my Heart, have not alone
Imploy'd you where high Profits might come home,
But par'd my prefent Havings, to below
My Bounties upon you.

Car. What ſhould this meane?

Sur. The Lord increaſe this buſineſſe.

King. Have I not made you
The prime man of the State? I pray you tell me,
If what I now pronounce, you have found true:
And if you may conſeſſe it, ſay withall
If you are bound to us, or no. What ſay you?

Car. My Soveraigne, I conſeſſe your Royall graces
Showr'd on me daily, have bene more then could
My fluided purpofes require, which went
Beyond all mans endeavors. My endeavors,
Have ever come too ſhort of my Deſires,
Yet fill'd with my Abilities: Mine owne ends
Have beene ſo, that ever more they pointed
To'th'good of your moſt Sacred Perſon, and
The profit of the State. For your great Graces
Heap'd upon me (poore Vndeferver) I
Cannothing render but Allegiant thanks,
My Prayres to heaven for you; my Loyalty
Which ever ha's, and ever ſhall be growing,
Till death (that Winter) kill it.

King. Fairely anſwer'd:
A Loyall, and obedient Subject is
Therein illustrated, the Honor of it
Does pay the Act of it, as i'th'contrary
The ſowlenneſſe is the puniſhment. I preſume,
That as my hand ha's open'd Bounky to you,
My heart drop'd Love, 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 Loves particular, be more
To me your Friends, then any.

Car. I do profileſe,
That for your Highneſſe good, I ever labour'd
More then mine owne: that am, have, 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 cluding Flood,
Should the approach of this wilde River breake,
And ſtand unſhaken yours.

King. 'Tis Nobly ſpoken;
Take notice Lords, he ha's a Loyall breſt,
For you have ſene him open't. Read o're this,
And after this, and then to Breakſait with
What appetite you have.
Exit King, frowning upon the Cardinall, the Nobles
throng after him, smiling, and whifpering.

Car. What ſhould this meane?
What ſodaine Anger's this? How have I reap'd it?
He parted Frowning from me, as if Ruine
Leaſp'd from his Eyes. So looks the chafed Lyon
Upon 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 undone me: 'Tis th'Accompt
Of all that world of Wealth I have 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 Divell
Made me put this maine Secret in the Packet
If Ient the King? Is there no way to cure this?
No new device 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 live) with all the Buſineſſe
I wriſt to's Holineſſe. Nay then, farewell:
I have touch'd the higheſt point of all my Greatneſſe,
And from that full Meridian of my Glory,
I haſe now to my Setting, I shall fall
Like a bright exhalation in the Evening,
And no man fee me more.

Enter to Woolſey, the Dukes of Norſtolke and Suſſolke, the Earle of Surſey, and the Lord Chambarlaine.

Nor. Heare the Kings pleafure Cardinall,
Who commands you
To render up the Great Seale prefently
Into our hands, and to Confine your ſelſe
To Aſher-houſe, my Lord of Wincheflers,
Till you heare further from his Highneſſe.

Car. Stay:
Where's your Commission? Lords, words cannot carry
Authority ſo weighty.

Suf. Who dare croſſe'em,
Bearing the Kings will from his mouth expreſſely?

Car. Till I find more then will, or words to do it,
(I meane your malice) know, Oſſicious Lords,
I dare, and muſt deny it. Now I feele
Of what courſe Mettle ye are molded, Envy:
How eagerly ye follow my Difgraces

y

As

222

As if it fed ye, and how fleeke and wanton
Ye appeare in every thing may bring my ruine?
Follow your envious courtes,men of Malice;
You have Christian warrant for'em,and no doubt
In time will finde their fit Rewards. That Seale
You aske with such a Violence,the King
(Mine,and your Maifter) with his owne hand,gave me:
Bad me enjoy it, with the Place,and Honors
During my life,and to confirme his Goodneſſe,
Tid'e it by Letters Patents. Now,who'll take it?

Sm. The King that gave it.

Car. It muſt be himſelſe then.

Smr. Thou art a proud Traitor,Priſt.

Car. Proud Lord,thou lyeſt:

Within theſe forty hours,Surrey durſt better
Have burnt that Tongue,then faide ſo.

Smr. Thy Ambition

(Thou Scarler 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 policy,
You ſent me Deputy for Ireland,

Farre from his ſuccour,from the King,from all
That might have mercy on the fault,thou gauſt him:
Whil't your great Goodneſſe, out of holy pitty,
Abſolv'd him with an Axe.

Wol. This,and all eſſe

This talking Lord can lay upon my credit,
Ianſwer, is moſt falſe. The Duke by Law
Found his deferts. How innocent I was
From any private malice in his end,

His Noble Iurie,and foule Canſe can wittneſſe.
(If I low'd many words,Lord,I should tell you,
You have as little Honesty,as Honor,
That in the way of Loyalty,and Truth,
Toward the King,my ever Royall Maſter,
Dare mate a founder man then Surry can be,
And all that love his follies.

Smr. By my Soule,

Your long Coat(Priſt)proteſts you,
Thou ſhouldn't feele

My Sword i'th'life blood of thee eſſe. My Lords,
Can ye endure to heare this Arrogance?

And from this Fellow? If we live thus tamely,
To be thus laded by a peecce of Scarlet,
Farewell Nobility:let his Grace go forward,
And dare us with his Cap,like Larkes.

Car. All Goodneſſe

Is poſſon to thy Stomacke.

Smr. 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 write to'th Pope,againſt the King:your goodneſſe
Since you provoke 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 Nobility,our Iſſues,

(Who if he live,will ſcarle be Gentlemen)

Produce the grand ſamme of his finnes,the Articles
Collected from his life. He ſtartle you

Worſethen 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 Charity againſt it,

Nor. Thoſe Articles,my Lord,are in the Kings hand:
But thus much,they are foule ones.

Wol. So much fairer

And ſpoffeſſe,ſhall mine Innocence arife,
When the King knowes my Truth.

Smr. This cannot fave you:

I thanke my Memory,I yet remember
Some of theſe Articles,and out they ſhall.
Now,if you can bluſh,and cry guilty Cardinall,
You't flew a little Honesty.

Wol. Speake on Sir,

I dare your worſt Objections:If I bluſh,
It is to fee a Nobleman want manners.

Smr. I had rather want thofe,then my head;
Have at you.

Firſt, that without the King's aſſent or knowledge,
You wrought to be a Legate,by which power
You maim'd the Jurisdicſion of all Bifhops.

Nor. Then, That in all you writ to Rome,or eſſe

To Forraigne Princes,Ego & Rex meus,
Was ſtill inferib'd:in which you brought the King
To be your Servant.

Smr. 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.

Smr. Item, You ſent a large Commiſſion
To Gregory de Caffado, to conclude

Without the Kings will,or the States allowance,
A League betwene hie Highneſſe, and Ferrara.

Smſ. That out of meere Ambition,you have cauſ'd
Your holy-Hat to be ſtamp't on the Kings Coine.

Smr. Then, that you have ſent innumerable ſubſtance,
(By what means gor',I leave to your owne confidence)
To ſurſh Rome,and to prepare the wayes

You have for Dignities, to the meere undoing
Of all the Kingdome. Many more there are,
Which ſince they are of you,and odious,
I will not taint my mouth with.

Cham. O my Lord,

Praſſe not a falling man too farre:'tis Vertue:
His faults lye open to the Lawes,let them
(Not you)correſt him. My heart weepes to ſee him
So little,of his great Selfe.

Smr. I forſe him.

Smſ. Lord Cardinall, the Kings further pleafure is,
Becauſe all theſe things you haue done of late
By your power Legantive within this Kingdome,
Fall into'th'compaſſe of a Premunire;

That therefore ſuch a Writ be ſued againſt you,
To forfeit all your Goods,Lands,Tenements,
Caſtles,and whatsoever, and to be

Out of the Kings protection. This is my Charge.

Nor. And for wee'l leave you to your Meditations
How to live better. For your flubborne anſwer
About the giuing backe the Great Seale to us,
The King ſhall know it, and (no doubt) ſhall 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 Leaves of hopes,to morrow Bloſſomes,
And beares his bluſhing Honors thicke upon him:
The third day,comes a Proſt;a killing Proſt;
And when he thinkes,good caſe man,full fully

His

223

His Greatneſſe is a ripening,nippes his roote,
And then he fals as I do. I have ventur'd
Like little wanton Boyes that ſwim on bladders:
This many Summers in a Sea of Glory,
But farre beyond my depth:my high-blowne Pride
At length broke under me,and now ha's left me
Weary, and old with ſervice,to the mercy
Of a rude ſtreame,that muſt for ever hide me.
Vaine pompe,and glory of this World,I hate ye,
I feele my heart new open'd.Oh how wretched
Is that poore man,that hangs on Princes favours?
There is betwixt that ſmile we would aspire to,
That fweet Aspect of Princes, and their ruine,
More pangs, and feares then warres,or women have;
And when he falles,he falles like Lucifer,
Never to hope againe.

Enter Cromwell, standing amazed.

Why how now Cromwell?

Crom. I have no power to ſpeak Sir.]
Car. What,amaz'd

At my misfortunes? Can the Spirit wonder
A great man ſhould decline. Nay, and you weep
I am falne indeed.

Crom. How does your Grace.

Card. Why well:

Never so truly happy,my good Cromwell,
I know my ſelfe now, and I feele within me,
A peace above all earthly Dignities,
A still, and quiet Conſcience. The King ha's cur'd me,
I humbly thanke his Grace:and from theſe shoulders
The ſeul ſein'd Pullet, out of pitty, 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 Heaven.

Crom. I am glad your Grace,

Ha's made that right uſe of it.

Card. I hope I have:

I am able now(me thinke)
(Out of a Fortitude of Soule,I feele)
To endure more Miferies,and greater farre
Then my Weake-hearted Enemies,dare offer.
What Newes abroad?
Crom. The heaviet, 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 favour,and do Iuſtice
For Truths,faſe, and his Conſcience; that his bones,
When he ha's run his courſe, and ſleepes in Bleſſings,
May have a Tombe of Orphants teares wept on him.
What more?

Crom. That (Cranmer 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 ſecrecy long married,
This day was view'd in open, as his Queene,
Going to Chappell; and the voice is now
Only about his Corronation.

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 have loft for ever.

No Sun, shall ever uſher forth mine Honors,
Or gilde againe the Noble Troopes that waighted
Vpon my ſmiles. Go get thee from me Cromwell,
I am a poore falne man,unworthy now
To be thy Lord, and Maſter. Seeke the King
(That Sun, I pray may never fet) I have told him,
What, and how true thou art; he will advance thee;
Some little memory of me, will ſtirre him
(I know his Noble Nature) not to let
Thy hopefull ſervice perſh too. Good Cromwell
Neglect him not; make uſe now, and prouide
For thine owne future ſafety.

Crom. O my Lord,

Muſt I then leave you? Muſt I needes forgo
So good, so Noble, and so true a Maſter?
Beare witneſſe, all that have not hearts of Iron,
With what a ſorrow Cromwell leaves his Lord.
The King shall have my ſervice; but my prayers
For ever, and for ever shall be yours.

Card. Cromwell, I did not thinke to ſhed a teare
In all my Miferies: But thou haſt forſt me
(Out of thy honeſt truth) to play the Woman.
Let's dry our eyes: And thus farre hear me Cromwell,
And when I am ſorgotten, as I haſbere,
And ſleepe 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 ſafe one, though thy Maſter miſt it.
Marke but my Fall, and that that Ruin'd me:
Cromwell, I charge thee, flying away Ambition,
By that finne ſell the Angels: how can man then
(The Image of his Maker) hope to win by it?

Love thy ſelfe laſt, cheriſh that ſe hearts that hate theſe:
Corruption wins not more then Honesty,
Still in thy right hand, carry gentle Peace
To ſilence envious Tongues. Be juſt, 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.

Serve the King: And prythee leade me in:
There take an Inventory of all I have,
To the laſt peny, 'tis the Kings. My Robe,
And my Integrity to Heaven, is all,
I dare now call mine owne. O Cromwell, Cromwell
Had I but ſerv'd my God, with half the Zeale
I ſerv'd my King: he would not in mine Age
Have left me naked to mine Enemies,

Crom. Good Sir, have patience.

Card. So I have. Farewell

The Hopes of Court, my Hopes in Heaven do dwell.

Exeunt.

## Aſtus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Enter two Gentlemen, meeting one another.

1 Y'are well met once againe.

2 So are you.

I You come to take your ſand heere, and be hold
The Lady Anne, paffe from her Corronation.

y 2

2 'Tis

2 'Tis all my bufineſſe. At our laſt encounter,
The Duke of Buckingham came from his Trial.

1 'Tis very true. But that time offer'd forrow,
This generall joy.

2 'Tis well: The Citizens

I am ſure have Shewne at full their Royall minds,
As Iete'm have their rights, they are ever forward
In Celebration of this day with Shewes,
Pageants, and Sights of Honor.

1 Never greater,

Nor Ile affure you better taken Sir.

2 May I be bold to aske what that contains,
That Paper in your hands.

1 Yes, 'tis the Lift

Of thofe that claime their Offices this day,

By cuſtome of the Coronation.

The Duke of Suffolke is the firſt, and claims
To be high Steward: Next the Duke of Norſolke,
He to be Earle Marſhall: you may reade the reſt.

I I thanke you Sir: Had I not knowne thofe cuſtomes,
I should have beene beholding to your Paper:
But I beſecch you, what's become of Katherine
The Princeſſe Dowager? How goes her buſineſſe?

1 That I can tell you too. The Archibifhop
Of Canterbury, accompanied with other
Learned, and Reverend Fathers of his Order,
Held a late Courtat at Dunſtable; ſixe miles off
From Ampthill, where the Princeſſe lay, to which
She was often cyted by them, but appear'd not:
And tobe ſhort, for not Appearance, and
The Kings late Scruple, by the maine affent
Of all theſe Learned men, ſhe was divorc'd,
And the late Marriage made of none effect:
Since which, ſhe was remov'd to Kymma'ton,
Where the 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 lively Flourish of Trumpets.

2 Then two Audges.

3 Lord Chancelor, with Purſe and Mace before him.

4 Quirifters ſinging.

Muſſicke

5 Maior of London, bearing the Mace. Then Garter, in
his Coate of Armes, and on his head be wore a Gilt Copper
Crowne.

6 Marquſeſſe Dorſet, bearing a Scepter of Gold, on his head,
a Dimy Coronall of Gold. With him, the Earle of Surrey
bearing the Rod of Silver 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 Norſolke, with the Rod of Marſhallship,
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 haure, richly adornd with
Pearle, Crowned. On each ſide her. the Bishops of London
and Wincheſter.

9 The Old Dutchefſe of Norſolke, in a Coronall of Gold,
wrought with Flowers, bearing the Queens Traine.

10 Certaine Ladies or Counteſſes, with plaine Circletſ of
Gold, without Flowers.

Exenſt, firſt paſſing over the Stage in Order and State, and
then, A great Flourish of Trumpets.

2 A Royall Traine beleeve me: Theſe I know:
Who's that that beares the Scepter?

1 Marquſeſſe Dorſet,

And that the Earle of Surrey, with the Rod.

2 A bold brave Gentleman. That ſhould be
The Duke of Suffolke.

1 'Tis the fame: high Steward.

2 And that my Lord of Norſolke?

1 Yes.

2 Heaven bleſſe thee,

Thou haſt the ſweetſt face I ever look'd on.

Sir, as I have a Soule, ſhe is an Angell;

Our King ha's all the Indies in his Armes,
And more, and richer, when he entraines that Lady,
I cannot blame his Conſcience,

1 They that beare
The Cloath of Honor over her, are ſoure Barons
Of the Cinque-Ports.

2 Thofe men are happy,

And ſo are all, are neere her.

I take it, ſhe that carries up the Traine,

Is that old Noble Lady, Dutchefſe of Norſolke.

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 Gensleman.

1 God ſave you Sir. Where have you bin broiling?

3 Among the crow'd i'th'Abbey, where a finger

Could not be wedg'd in more: I am ſliffed
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, ſpcake it to us?

3 As well as I am able. The rich ſtreame

Of Lords, and Ladies, having brought the Queene
To a prepar'd place in the Quire, fell off
A diſtance from her, while her Grace late downe
To reſt a while, ſome halſe an houre, or ſo.

In a rich Chaire of State, oppofing freely

The Beauty of her Person to the People.

Beleeve me Sir, ſhe is the goodlieſt Woman
That ever lay by man: which when the people

Had the full view of, ſuch a noyſe aroſe,

As the ſhowdes make at Sea, in a ſliffe Tempeſt,
As lowd, and to as many Tunes. Hats, Cloakes,
(Doublets, I thinke) ſwef up, and had their Faces
Bin ſloſe, this day they had beene loft. Such joy
I never ſaw before. Great belly'd women,
That had not halſe a weeke to go, like Rammes
In the old time of Warre, would ſhake the preaſe
And make'em reele before'em. No man living
Could ſay this is my wife there, all wERE woven
Soſtrangely in one piecee.

2 But what follow'd?

3 At length, her Grace roſe, and with modeſt paces
Came to the Altar, where ſhe kneel'd, and Saint-like
Caſt her faire eyes to Heaven, and pray'd devoutly.
Then roſe againe, and bow'd her to the people:
When by the Arch-by ſhop 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

With all the choyfeft Musficke of the Kingdome,
Together fang Te Deum. So she parted,
And with the fame full State pac'd backe againe
To Yorke-Place, where the Featt is held.

1 Sir.

You muft no more call it Yorke-place, that's paft:
For fioce the Cardinall fell, that Titles loft,
'Tis now the Kings, and call'd White-Hall.

3 I know it:

But'tis for lately alter'd, that the old name
Is fresh about me.

2 What two Reverend Bifhops

Were thofe that went on each fide of the Queene?

3 Stokeley and Gardiner, the one of Winchefter,

Newly preferr'd from the Kings Secretary:

The other London.

2 He of Winchefter

Ished no great good lover of the Archbifhop,
The vertuous Crammer.

3 All the Land knowes that:

How ever yet there is no great breach, when it comes
Crammer will finde a Friend will not SHRINK from him.

2 Who may that be, I pray you.

3 Thomas Cramwell,

A man in much eſteeme with th'King, and truly
A worthy Friend. The King ha's made him
Maifter of'th'Tewell Houſe,

And one already of the Privy Councell.

2 He will deferue more.

3 Yes without all doubt.

Come Gentlemen ye shall go my way,

Which is to'th Court, and there ye shall be my Guelſt:
Something I can command. As I walke thither,
He tell ye more.

Both. You may command us Sir.

Exeunt.

## Scena Secunda.

Enter Katherine Dowager, ficks, lead between Griffith,
her Gentleman Vther, and Patience
her Woman.

Grif. How do's your Grace?

Kath. O Griffith, fickle to death:

My Legges like loaded Branches bow to'th'Earth,
Willing to leave their burthen: Reach a Chaire,
So now (me thinkes) I feele a little eafe.

Did't thou not tell me Griffith, as thou lead'ſt me,
That the great Childe of Honor, Cardinall Wolferg,
Was dead?

Grif. Yes Madam: but I thinke your Grace

Out of the paine you suffer'd, gave no care too't.

Kath. Pre'thee good Griffith, tell me how he dy'd.

If well, he ſtept before me happily
For my example.

Grif. Well, the voice goes Madam,

For after the flout Earle Northumberland
Arreſted him at Yorke, and brought him forward
As a man foreely tainted, to his Anſwer,
He ſell fickle faſdainly, and grew ſo ill

He could not fit his Mule,

Kath. Alas, poor man.

Grif. At laſt, with eafe Rodes he came to Leicefter,

Lodg'd in the Abbey, where the reverend Abbot
With all his Covent, honorably receiv'd him;
To whom he gave theſe words. O Father Abbot,
An old man, broken with the ſtormes of State,
Is come to lay his weary bones among ye:

Give him a little earth for Charity.

So went to bed; where eagerly his fickneſſe

Purſ'd him ſtill, and three nights after this,

About the houre of eight, which he himſelfe

Foretold ſhould be his laſt, full Repentance,

Continuall Meditations, Teares, and Sorrowes,

He give his Honors to the world agen,

His bleſſed part to Heaven, and ſlept in peace.

Kath. So may he reſt,

His faults lye on him:

Yet thus farre Griffith, give me leave to ſpeake him,

And yet with Charity. He was, a man

Of an unbounded ſtomacke, ever ranking

Himſelfe with Princes. One that by fuggelſion

Ty'd all the Kingdome. Symony, was faire play,

His owne Opinion was his Law. I'th'prefence

He would ſay untruths, and be ever double

Both in his words, and meaning. He was never

(But where he meant to Ruine) pittifull.

His Promifes, were as he then was, Mighty:

But his performance as he is now, Nothing:

Of his owne body he was ill, and gave

The Clergy ill example.

Grif. Noble Madam:

Mens evill manners, live in Braſſe, their Vertues

We write in Water. May it pleafe your Highneſſe

To heare me ſpeake his good now?

Kath. Yes good Griffith,

I were malicious eſſe.

Grif. This Cardinall.

Though from an humble Stocke, undoubtedly
Was ſaſhion'd to much Honor. From his Cradle

He was a Scholler, and a ripe, and good one:

Exceeding wife, faſte ſpoken, and perſwading:

Loſty, and ſowre to them that lov'd him not:

But to thofe men that fought him, (tweet as Summer.

And though he were unſatisfied in getting,
(Which was a finne) yet in beſtowing, Madam,

He was molſt Princely: Ever witneſſe for him

Thofe twinnes of Learning, that he rais'd in you,

Ipswich and Oxford: one of which, fell with him,

Vnwilling to out-live the good that did it.

The other (though unfiniſh'd) yet ſo famous,

So excellent in Art, and ſtill ſo ſrifing,

That Chriſtendome ſhall ever ſpeake his Vertue.

His Overthrow, heap'd Happineſſe upon him:

For then, and not till then, he felt himſelfe,

And found the Bleſſedneſſe of being little.

And to adde greater Honors to his Age

Then man could give him; he dy'd, fearing God.

Kath. After my death, I wifh no other Herald,

No other ſpeaker of my living Actions,

To keepe mine Honor, from Corruption,

But ſuch an honeft Chroſticler as Griffith.

Whom I molſt hated Living, thou haſt made me

With thy Religious Truth, and Modetiy,

(Now in his Alſes) Honor: Peace be with him.

Patience, be neere me ſtill, and fet me lower.

I have not long to trouble thee. Good Griffith,

Caueſe the Mufitians play me that ſad note

I nam'd my Knell; whil't I fit meditating.

y 3

On

226

On that Celestiall Harmony I go too.

Sad and Solemne Musicke.

Grif. She is a sleepe: Good wench, let's fit down quiet,
For feare we wake her. Softly, gentle Patience.

The Vision.

Enter Solemnly tripping one after another, fixe Personages,
clad in white Robes, wearing on their heads Garlands of
Bayes, and golden Vizors on their faces, Branches of Bayes
or Palme to their hands. They firſt Conge unto her, then
Dance: and at certaine Changes, the firſt two hold a ſpare
Garland over her Head, at which the other ſoure make re-
verend Curſies. Then the two that held the Garland, deli-
ver the ſame to the other next two, who obſerve the ſame or-
der in their Charges, and holding the Garland over her head.
Which done, they deliver the ſame Garland to the laſt two:
who likewise obſerve the ſame Order. At which (as it were
by infpiration) they makes (in her sleepe) ſignes of rejoycing, &
holdeth up her hands to heaven. And so, in their Dancing
vanilſo, carrying the Garland with them. The Musickc con-
tinues.

Kath. Spirits of peace, where are ye? Are ye all gone?
And leave me here in wretchedneſſe, behinde ye?

Grif. Madam, we are here.

Kath. It is not you I call for,

Saw ye none enter ſince I flept?

Grif. None, Madam.

Kath. No? Saw you not even now a bleſſed Troope
Invite me to a Banquet, whoſe bright faces
Caſt a thousand beames upon me, like the Sun?

They promis'd me eternall Hinnepinſe,
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 Musickc leave,

They are harſh and heavy to me.

Musickc ceafes.

Pati. Do you note

How much her Grace is alter'd on the ſodaine?

How long her face is drawne? How palt ſhe looks,
And of an earthy cold? Marke her eyes?

Grif. She is going Wench, Pray, pray.

Pati. Heaven comfort her.

Enter a Meſſenger.

Mef. And't like your Grace

Kat. You are a fawcy Fellow,

Deſerve we no more Reverence?

Grif. You are too blame,

Knowing ſhe will not looke her wonted Greatneſſe
To uſe ſo rude behaujour. Go to, kneele.

Mef. I humbly do entreat your Highneſſe pardon,
My haſt made me unmannerly. There is flaying
A Gentleman ſent from the King, to ſee you.

Kath. Admit him entrance. Griffub. But this Fellow
Let me ne're fee againe.
Exit Meſſeng.

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 Titles now are alter'd ſtrangely
With me, ſince firſt you knew me.

But I pray you,

What is your pleafure with me?

Cap. Noble Lad y,

Firſt mine owne ſervice to your Grace, the next

The Kings requeſt, that I would viſit you,
Who greeces 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 given 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 ever do, and ever flouriſh,
When I ſhall dwell with Wormes, and my poore name
Banil'd the Kingdome. Patience, is that Letter
I cauſ'd you write, yet ſent away?

Pat. No Madam.

Kath. Sir, I moſt humbly pray you to deliver
This to my Lord the King.

Cap. Moſt willingly Madam.

Kath. In which I have commended to his goodneſſe
The Modell of our chaſte loves: his yong daughter,
The dewes of Heaven fall thick in Bleſſings on her,
Befeching him to give her vertuous breeding.
She is yong, and of a Noble modeſt Nature,
I hope ſhe will deferve well; and a little
To love her for her Mothers ſake: that lov'd him:
Heaven knows how deerely.

My next poore Petition.

Is, that his Noble Grace would have ſome pittie.
Vpon my wretched women, that ſo long
Have follow'd both my Fortunes, faithfully,
Of w hich there is not one, I dare avow
(And now I ſhould not lye) but will deferve
For Vertue, and true Beauty of the Soule,
For honetly, and decent Carriage

A right good Husband (let him be a Noble)
And ſure that ſome men are happy that ſhall have'em.

The laſt is for my men, they are the pooreſt,
(But poverty could never draw'em from me)

That they may have their wages, duly paid'em,
And ſomething over to remember me by.

If Heaven had pleas'd to have given me longer life
And able meaneſs, we had not parted thus.

The ſe are the whole Contents, and good my Lord,
By that you love the deereſt in this world,
As you with Chriſtian peace to ſoules departed,
Stand the ſe poore peoples Friend, and urge the King
To do me this laſt right,

Cap. By Heaven I will.

Or let me looke the ſhion of a man.

Kath. I thanke you honeſt Lord. Remember me
In all humility unto his Highneſſe:
Say his long trouble now is paffing
Out of this world. Tell him in death I bled him
(For I ſo will) mine eyes grow dimme. Farewell
My Lord. Griffith farewell. Nay Patience,
You muſt not leave me yet. I muſt to bed,
Call in more women. When I am dead, 'good Wench,
Let me be us'd with Honor; ſtrew me over
With Maiden Flowers, that all the world may know
I was a chaſte Wife, to my Grave: Embalme me,
Then lay me forth (although unqueen'd) yet like
A Queene, and Daughter to a King enterre me.
I can no more.

Exeunt leading Katherin e.

Scena

Aelus 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 trooke.
Gard. Thefe should be hours for necessities,
Not for delights: Times to repayre our Nature
With comforting repofe, and not for us
To wale thefe times. Good houre of night Sir Thomas:
Whether fo late?
Lov. Came you from the King, my Lord?
Gar. I did Sir Thomas, and left him at Primer
With the Duke of Suffolk.
Lov. I muft to him too

Before he go to bed. Ile take my leave.

Gar. Not yet Sir Thomas Lovell: what's the matter?

It feemes you are in haftand if there be
No great offence belongs too't, give your Friend
Some touch of your late busineſſe: Affairs that walke
(As they fay Spirits do) at midnight, have
In them a wilder Nature, theu the busineſſe
That feekes difpatch by day.

Lov. My Lord, I love you

And durſt commend a secret to your eare
Much weightier then this worke. The Queens in Labor
They ſay in great Extremity, and fear'd
Shee'l with the Labour, end.

Gar. The fruite ſhe goe with
Ipray for heartily, that it may finde
Good time; and live: but for the Stocke Sir Thomas,
I with it grubb'd up now.

Lov. Me thinkes I could

Crythe Amen, and yet my Conſcience ſays
Shee's a good Creature, and ſwet-Lady do's
Deſerve our better wifhes.

Gar. 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,

Twill not Sir Thomas Lovell, tak't of me,
Till Cranmer Cromwell, her two hands, and ſhe
Sleepe in their Graves.

Lov. Now Sir, you ſpeake of two

The moſt remark'd i'th'Kingdome: as for Cromwell,
Befide that of the lewell-Houſe, is made Maiſter
O'th'Rolles, and the Kings Secretary. Further Sir,
Stands in the gap and Trade of moe Preferments,
With which the Lime will loade him. Th'Archbyſhop
Iſt the Kings hand, and tongue, and who dare ſpeake
One ſyllable againſt him?

Gar. Yes, yes. Sir Thomas,

There are that Dare, and I my ſelfe have ventur'd
To ſpeake my minde of him: and indeed this day,
Sir (I may tell it you) I thinke I have
Incenſt the Lords o'th'Counsell, that he is
(For ſo I know he is, they know he is)
A moſt Arch-Heretique, a Peſtillence.

That does inſect the Land: with which, they moved
Have broken with the King, who hath ſo farre
Given care to our Complaint, of his great Grace.

And princely Care, fore-seeing that ſell Milchiefes,

Our Reaſons layd before him, hath commanded
To morrow Morning to the Councell Boord
He be converted. He's a ranke weed Sir Thomas,
And we muſt root him out. From your Affairs
I hinder you too long: Good night, Sir Thomas.

Exit Gardiner and Page.

Lov. Many good nights, my Lord, I reſt your fervant.

Enter King and ſuffolke.

King. Charles, I will play no more to night,
My mindeſ not on't, you are too hard for me.

Suf. Sir, I did never win a day 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 deliver to her

What you commanded me, but by her woman,
I ſent her Meſſage, who return'd her thankes

In the great ſt humbleneſſe, and deſir'd your Highneſſe

Moſt hartily to pray for her.

King. What ſay it thou? Ha?

To pray for her? What, is ſhe crying out?

Lov. So faſid 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 Travaile, to the gladding of
Your Higneſſe with an Heire.

King. Tis midnight Charles,

Prythe to bed, and in thy Prayers remember
Th'eflatt of my poore Queene. Leave me alone,

For I muſt thinke of that, which company
Would not be friendly to.

Suf. I with your Higneſſe
A quiuer night, and my good Miftris will
Remember in my Prayers.

King. Charles good night.

Exit ſuffolke.

Well Sir, what followes?

Enter Sir Anthony Denny.

Den. I haue brought my Lord the Arch-byſhop,
As you commanded me.

Kin. Ha? Canterbury?

Den. I my good Lord

Kin. Tis true: where is he Denn?

Den. He attends your Highneſſe pleafure.

Kin. Bring him to Vs.

Lov. This is about that, which the Byſhop ſpake,
I am happily come hither.

Enter Cranmer and Denny.

King. Avoid the Gallery.

Lovell ſemeth to ſlay.

Ha? I have faſid. Be gone.

Exeunt Lovell and Denny.

Cran. I am ſeaſefull: Wherefore frownes he thus?
Tis his Aspect of Terror. All's not well.

Kin. How now my Lord?

You do deſire to know wherefore

I ſent for you.

Cran. It is my duty

T'attend your Highneſſe pleafure.

Kin. Pray you arife

My good and iſgracious Lord of Canterbury:
Come, you and I muſt walke a turne together:
I have Newes to tell you.

Come, come, give me your hand.

Ah my good Lord, I greeve at what I ſpeake,

And am right forſry to repeat what followes.

I have, and moſt unwillingly of late

Heard

Heard many greevous. I do say my Lord
Greevous complaints of you; which being confider'd,
Have mov'd Vs, and our Councell, that you shall
This Morning come before us, where I know
You cannot with such freedome purge your felfe,
But that till further Triall, in thofe Charges
Which will require your Anfwer, you muft take
Your patience to you, and be well contented
To make your houſe our Towre: you, a Brother of us
It fits we thus proceed, or eſſe no wittneſſe
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 Chafe
And Corne ſhall flye aſunder. For I know
There's none ſtands under more calumnious tongues,
Then I my ſelfe, poore man.

Kin. Stand up, good Canterbury,
Thy Truth, and thy Integrity is rooted
Inuſthy Friend. Give me thy hand, ſtand up,
Prythee let's walke. Now by my Holydame,
What manner of man are you? My Lord, I look'd
You would have given me your Petition, that
I ſhould have tane ſome paines, to bring together
Your ſelfe, and your Accuſers, and to have heard you
Without indurance further.

Cran. Moſt dread Liege,
The good I ſtand on, is my Truth and Honefly:
If they ſhall ſaile, I with mine Enemies
Will triumph o're my perſon, which I waigh not,
Being of thofe Vertues vacant. I ſcare nothing
What can be faid againſt me.
Kin. Know you not
How your ſtate ſtands i'th' world, with the whole world?
Your Enemies are many, and not ſmally their practiſes
Muaſt beare the fame proportion, and not ever
The Inſtice and the Truth o'th' quæſtion carries
The dew o'th' Verdiſt with it; at what eafe
Might corrupt mindeſe procure, Knaues as corrupt
To ſware againſt you: Such things have bene done.
You are Potently oppos'd, and with a Malice
Of as great Size. Weene you of better lucke,
I meane in periur'd Wittneſſe, then your Maſler,
Whofe Minifter you are, w hiles heere he liv'd
Vpon this naughty Earth? Go to, go to,
You take a Precipice for no leape of danger,
Ane wooe your owne deſtruſion.

Cran. God, and your Majeſty
Proteſt mine innocence, or I fall into
The trap is laid for me.

Kin. Be of good cheere,
They ſhall no more prevaile, then we give way to;
Keepe comfort to you, and this Morning ſee
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 uſe; and with what vehemency
Th' occafion ſhall inſtruſt you. If intreaties
Will render you no remedy, this Ring
Deliver them, and your Appeale to us
There make before them. Looke, the goodman weeps:
He's honeſt on mine Honor. God's bleſſed Mother,
I ſware he is true, hearted, and a loule
None better in my Kingdome. Get you gone,
And do as I have bid you.
Exit Cranmer.
He ha's ſtrangled all 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 Angels
Fly o're thy Royall head, and ſhade thy perſon
Under their bleſſed wings.

Kin. Now by thy lookes
I gelle thy Meltſage. Is the Queene deliver'd
Say I, and of a boy.

Lady. I, I my Liege;
And of a lovely Boy; the God of heaven
Both now, and ever bleſſe her: 'Tis a Gyrl
Promifes Boyes hereafter. Sir, your Queene
Defires your Vifitation, and to be
Acquainted with this ſtranger; 'tis as like you,
As Cherry, is to Cherry.

King. Lovell.
Lov. Sir.
King. Give her an hundred Markes.
Ile to the Queene.
Exit King.
Lad. An hundred Markes? By this light, Ile ha more.
An ordinary Groome is for ſuch payment.
I will have more, or I could it out of him.
Said I for this, the Gyrl was like to him? Ile
Have more, or eſſe unſay't: and now, while 'tishot,
Ile put it to the illue.
Exit Lady.

## Scena Secunda.

Enter Cranmer, Archbryſhop 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 faſt? What means this? Hoa?
Who waits 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 Doctor Buts.

Cran. So.
Buts. This is a Peice of Malice: I am glad
I came this way fo happily. The King
Shall understand it prefently.
Exit Buts.

Cran. 'Tis Buts.
The Kings Phyſiſtian, as he paſt along
How earneſtly he caſt his eyes upon me:
Pray heaven he found not my difgrace: for certaine
This is of purpofe laid by ſome that hate me,
(God turne their hearts, I never ſought their malice)
To quench mine Honor; they would ſhame to make me
Wait eſſe at door: a follow Councellor
'Mong Boyes, Groomes, and Lackekeys.
But their pleafures
Muaſt be fulfill'd, and I attend with patience.

Enter the King, and Buts. at a Windowe above.

Buts. Ile ſhew your Grace the ſtrangeſt fight.
King. What's that Buts?

Buts.

229

Buts. I thinke your Highneſſe law this many a day.
Kin. Body a me: where is it?

But. There my Lord:

The high promotion of his Grace of Canterbury,
Who holds his State at dore 'mongſt Purjevants,
Pages, and Foot-boyes.

Kin. Ha? 'Tis he indeed.

Is this the Honour they doe one another?
Tis well there's one above 'em yet; I had thought

They had parted so much honie among 'em,
At leaf good manners, as not thus to suffer

A man of his Place, and ſo neere our favour
To dance attendance on their Lordſhips pleatures,
And at the dore too, like a Poſt with Packets:
By holy Mary (Buts) there's knavery;
Let 'em alone, and draw the Curtaine cloſe:
We ſhall heare more anon.

A Councell Table brought in with Chayres and Stovoles, and placed under the State. Enter Lord Chancellor, places himſeſſe at the upper end of the Table, on the left hand: A Seate being left void above him, as for Canterburyes Seate. Duke of Suffolk, Duke of Norſtolke, Surrey, Lord Chamberlaine, Gardiner, ſeast themselves in Order on each side. Cromwell at lower end, as Secretary.

Chan. Speake to the buſineſſe, M. Secretary;

Why are we met in Councell?

Crom. Pleaſe your Honours,

The chieſe cauſe concerues his Grace of Canterbury.

Gard. Ha, he had knowledge of it?

Crom. Yes.

Nor. Who waits there?

Keep. Without my Noble Lords?

Gard. Yes.

Keep. My Lord Archeſtibhop:

And ha's done halde an houre to know your pleatures.

Chan. Let him come in.

Keep. Your Grace may enter now.

Cranmer approaches the Councell Table.

My good Lord Archibishop, I'm very forry
Toſt here at this prefent, and be hold
That Chayre ſtand empty: But we all are men
In our owne nature's fraile, and capable
Of our ſleſt, few are Angels; out of which frailty

And want of wifedome, you that beſt should teach us,
Have miſdemeand your ſelſe, and not a little:

Toward the King firſt, then his Lawes, in filling
The whole Realme, by your teaching & your Chaplaines

(For we are inform'd) with new opinions,

Divers and dangerous; which are Hereſtles;
And not reform'd, may prove pernicious.

Gard. Which Reformation muſt be ſodaine too
My Noble Lords, for thofe that tame wild Horſes,
Pacem not in their hands to make 'em gentle;
But ſtop their mouthes with ſturb ſoon Bits & ſpurre'em,
Till they obey the mannaſe. If wee ſuffer

Out of our eafineſſe and chilſt pitty
To one man, Honour, this contagious ſickneſſ;
Farewell, Phyſick; and what follows then?
Commotions, uſprores, with a generall Taint

Of the whole State; as of late dayes our neighbours,
The upper Germany can deereely witenſe:
Yet freshly pittied in our memories.

Cran. My good Lords; Hitherto, in all the Progreſſe
Both of my Life and Office, I have labout'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 ever to doe well; nor is there living,
(I speake it with a ſingle heart, my Lords)

A man that more deteſts, more thirres againſt,
Both in his private Conſcience, and his place,
Defacers of a publique peace then I doe:

Pray Heaven the King may never find a heart

With leſſe Allegiance in it. Men that make
Envy, and crooked malice, nouriſhment;

Dare bite the beſt. I doe beſeech your Lordſhips,

That in this caſe of Inſtice, my Accufers,

Be what they will, may ſland forth face to face,

And freely urge 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 have buſines of more mo-
We will be ſhort with you. 'Tis his Highneſſe pleature
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 ſeare) you are proviſed for.

Cran. Ah my good Lord of Winchefter: I thanke you,
You are alwayes my good friend, if your will paffe,
I ſhall both finde your Lordſhip, Iudge and Iuror,
You are ſo merciſull. I fee your end,

'Tis my undoing. Love and meekeneſſe, Lord

Become a Chuſchman better then Ambition:
Win ſtraying Soules with modety againe,

Caſt none away. That I ſhall clere my ſelſe,
Lay all the weight ye can upon my patience,

I make as little doubt as you doe conſcience,

In doing dayly wrongs. I could ſay more,

But reverence to your calling, makes me modet.

Gard. My Lord, my Lord, you are a Secretary,

That's the plaine truth; your painted gloſſe diſeovers

To men that underſand you, words and weakneſſe.

Crom. My Lord of Winchefter, y'are a little,

By your good favour, too ſharpe; Men ſo Noble,

How ever faulty, yet ſhould ſinde reſpect

For what they have beene: 'tis a crueltie,

To load a falling man.

Gard. Good M. Secretary,

I cry your Honour mercry; you may worſt

Of all this Table ſay ſo.

Crom. Why my Lord?

Gard. Doe not I know you for a Favourer

Of this new Sect? ye are not found.

Crom. Not found?

Gard. Not found I ſay.

Crom. Would you were halde ſo honef: -

Mens prayers then would ſeeke you, not their ſeares.

Gard. I ſhall remember this bold Language.

Crom. Doe.

Remember your bold life too.

Cran. This is too much;

Forbeare for ſhame my Lords.

Gard. I have done.

Crom. And I:

Cham. Then thus for you my Lord, it ſlands agreed
I take it, by all voyces: That forthwith,
You be convaid to th' Tower a Prifoner;

There to remaine till the Kings further pleature

Be knowne unto us: are you all agreed Lords.

All

All. We are.

Cran. Is there no other way of mercy,
But I muft needs to h'Tower my Lords?

Gard. Whar other,

Would you expect? You are frangely troublesome:
Let some o'th'Guard be ready there.

Enter the Guard.

Cran. For me?

Muſt I goe like a Traitor thither?

Gard. Receive him,

And fee him faſe it h'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 gripe of cruell men, and give it

To a moſt Noble Iudge, the King my Maiſter.

Cham. This is the Kings Ring.

Suvr. 'Tis no counterfeit.

Suffr. 'Tis the right Ring, by Heaven: I told ye all,
When we firſt put this dangerous ſtone a rowling,
'Twold fall upon our ſelves.

Norf. Doe 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 valve with him?

Would I were fairely out on't.

Crom. My mind gave me,

In feeking tales and Informations

Againſt this man, whoſe honeſtly the Dively

And his diſpiples onely enuy at,

Ye blew the fire that burnes ye now have at ye.

Enter King frowning on them, takes his Scate,

Gard. Dread Soveraigne.

How much are we bound to Heaven,

In dayly thankes that gave us ſuch a Prince;

Not only good and wifc, but moſt religious:

One that in all obedience, makes the Church

The cheeſe ayme of his Honour, and to ſtrengthen

That hoſly duty out of deare reſpect,

His Royall ſelfe in J udgement comes to heare

The caufe betwixt her, and this great offender.

Kiv. You were ever good at fodaine Commendations
Bifhop of Wincheſter. 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 whattoere thou tak'it me for; I'm ſure.

Thou haſt a cruell Nature and a bloody.

Good man fit downe: Now let me fee the proudeſt

Hee, that dares moſt, bnt wag his finger at thee.

By all that's holy, he had better flarve,

Then but once thinke his place becomes thee not.

Suvr. May it pleafe your Grace;

Kiv. No Sir, it doe's not pleafe me,

I had thought, I had had men of ſome underſtanding,
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 lowſie Foot-boy

At Chamberdore, and one, as great as you are?

Why, what a ſhame was this? Did my Commiffion,

Bid ye ſo farre forget your ſelves? I gave ye

Power, as he was a Counſellour 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 utmoſt, had ye meane,

Which ye ſhall never have while I live.

Chan. Thus farre

My moſt dread Soveraigne, may it like your Grace;

To let my tongue excule all. What was purpoſ'd

Concerning his Imprifonment, 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.

Kiv. Well, well my Lords reſpect him.

Take him, and uſe him well, hee's worthy of it.

I will ſay thus much for him, if a Prince

May be beholding to a Subject;

Am for his love and ſervice, to him.

Make me no more adoe, but all embrace him;

Be friends for ſhame my Lords: My Lord of Canterbury

I have a Suite which you muſt not deny mee.

That is, a faire young Maid that yet wants Baptifme,

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 Subjeſt to you?

Kiv. Come, come my Lord, you'd ſpare your ſpoones;
You shall have two noble Partners with you: the olde
Duchefie of Norſtolke, and Lady Marqueſſe Dorſet ? will
theſe pleafe you?

Once more my Lord of Wincheſter, I charge you
Embrace, and love this man.

Gard. With a true heart,

And Brothers love I doe it.

Cran. And let Heaven

Witneſſe how deare, I hold this Confirmation. (heart)

Kiv. Good Man, thofe joyfull teares ſhow thy trve

The common voice I fee is verified

Of theſe, which ſayes thus: Doe my Lord of Canterbury

A ſhrewd turne, and hee's your friend for ever:

Come Lords, we trifle time away: I long

To have this young one made a Chriſtian.

As I have made ye one Lords, one remaine:

So I grow ſtronger, you more Honour gaine,

Exemx.

## Scena Tertia.

Noſle and Tumult within: Enter Porter and his man.

Port. You'll leane your noſe anon ye Raſcals: doe you
take the Court for Parifh Garden: ye rude Slaves, leave
your gaping:

Within. Good M. Porter I belong to th' Larder.

Por. Belong to th'Gallowes, and be hang'd ye Rogue,
Is this a place to roate in ? Fetch me a dozen Crab-tree
ſtaves, and ſtrong ones; theſe are but fwitches to'em:
Ile scratch your heads; you muſt be feeing Chriſtenings?
Do you looke for Ale, and Cakes heere, 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 ſweepe

On May-day Morning, which will never be:

We may is well pufh againſt Powles as ſirre'em.

Por. How got they in, and be hang'd?

Man.

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 dilribute,
I made no fpare Sir.

Port. You did nothing Sir.

Man. I am not Sampson, nor Sir Guy, nor Colebrand,
Tomow'em downe before me; but if I fpar'd any
That had a head to hit, either young or old,
He or the, Cuckold or Cuckold-maker;
Let me ne're hope to fee a Chine againe;
And that I would not for a Cow, God fave her.
With. Do you heare M, Porter?

Port. I shall be with you prefently, good M. Pappy.

Keepe the dore clofe Sirha.

Man. What would you have me doe?

Por. What should you doe?

But knock'em downe by th'dozens ? Is this More fields
to mutter in? Or have we eome ftrange Indian with the
great Toole, come to Court, the women ſo beſiege us?
Bleſſe me, what a fry of Fornication is at dore ? On my
Chriftian Conſcience this one Chriſtening will beget a
thouſand, here will be Father, God-father, and all to-
gether.

Man. The Spoones will be the bigger Sir : There is a fellow ſomewhat neere the doore, he should be a Braſi- er by his ſace, for o' my conſcience twenty of the Dog- days now reigne in's Noſe ; all that ſtand about him are under the Line, they need no other penance : that Fire- Drake did I hit three times on the head , and three times was his Noſe diſcharged against me , hee ſtands there like a Morter-piece to blow us. There was a Habberda- lers Wife of I small wit, neere him , that rail'd upon me, till her pinck'd porrenger ſell off her head , for kindling ſuch a combuſation in the State. I miſt the Meteor once, and hit that Woman, who' cryed out Clubb , when I migh ſee from farre , ſome forty Truncheoners draw to her ſuccour, which were the hope o' th'Strond where ſhe was quartered ; they fell on , I made good my place ; at length they came to th'broome ſtaffe to me , I defide'em ſill, when ſodainly a File of Boyes behind'em, looſe ſhot, delivered' ſuch a ſhowre of Pibbles , that I was faire to draw mine Honour in, and let'em win the Worke, the Divell was among ſt'em I thinke ſurely.

Por. There 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 Limehouſe,
their deare Brothers are able to endure. I have ſome of
'em in Limbo Parrum, and there they are like to dance
the three days; bſideth the running Banquet of two
Beadles, that is to come.

Enter Lord Chamberlaine.

Cham. Mercy o'me: what a Multitude are here?
They grow ſtilt too; from all Parts they are comming,
As if we kept a Faire here? Where are thefe Porters?
Theſe lazy knaves? Y'have made fine hand ſellowes?
There's a trim rabble let in: are all theſe
Your faithfull friends o' th'Suburbs? We ſhall have
Great ſlore of roome no doubt, left for the Ladies,
When they paffe backe from the Chriſtening?

Por. And't pleafe your Honour,
We are but men, and what ſo many may doe,
Not being torne a pieces, we have done:
An Army cannot rule'em.

Cha. As I live,
If the King blame me for't; I lie ley e all

By th'heeleſ, and ſodainly and on your heads
Clap round Fines for neglect, y'are lazy knaves,
And here ye lye baiting of Bombards, when
Ye should doe Service. Harke the Trumpets found,
Th'are come already from the Chriſtening,
Go breake among the preaſe, and finde a way out.

To let the Troope paffe fairely, or Ile finde

A Marhaſſey, I ſhall hold ye play theſe two Monthes,

Por. Make way there, for the Prinſeſſe.

Man. You great ſellow,

Stand cloſe up, or I make your head ake.

Por. You i'th'Chambleſt get up o'th'raile,
Ile pecke you o're the pales ſtfe.

Exeunt.

## Scena Quarta.

Enter Trumpets founding : Then two Aldermen, La, Major, Garter, Crammer, Duke of Norſtolke with his Marhaſſols Staſſe; Duke of Stuſſolke, two Noblemen, bearing great stan- ding Bowles for the Chriſtening Guifts: Then foure Noble- men bearing a Canopy, under which the Dutchefſe of Nor- folke, Godmother, bearing the Childe rickly habited in a Mauſle, &c. Traine borne by a Lady: Then follows the Marchionefſe Dorſet, the other Godmother, and Ladies. The Troope paffe once about the Stage, and Garter ſpeakes.

Gart. Heaven

From thy endleſſe goodneſſe, ſend prosperous life,
Long, and ever happy, to the high and Mightry
Prinſeſſe of England Elizabeth.

Flourife. Enter King and Guard.

Cran. And to your Royall Grace, & the good Queene,
My Noble Partners, and my ſelfe this pray
All comfort, joy in this moſt gracious Lady,
Heaven ever laid up to make Parents happy.
May hourly fall upon ye.

King. Thanke you good Lord Archbiſhop:
What is her Name?

Cran. Elizabeth.

Kin. Standup Lord,
With this Kiffe, take my Bleſſing: God protect thee,
Into whole hand, I give thy Life.

Cran. Amen.

Kin. My Noble Goffips, y'have beene too Prodigall,
I thanke ye heartily: So ſhall this Lady,
When ſhe ha's ſo much Engliſh.

Cran. Let me ſpeake Sir,
For Heaven now bids me; and the words I utter,
Let none thinke Flattery; for they'l finde'em Truth.
This Royall Infant, Heaven ſtill move 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 living can behold that goodneſſe)
A Patterne to all Princes living with her,
And all that ſhall ſucceed: Sab's was never
More covetous of Wifedome, and faire Vertue
Then this pure Soule ſhall be. All Princely Graces
That mould up 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

232

Holy and Heavenly thoughts full Counsell here:
She shall be lov'd and fear'd. Her owne shall blesse her;
Her Foes shall like a Field of beaten Corne,
And hang their heads with lorrow:
Good growes with her.
In her dayes, Every Man shall eate in safety,
Under his owne Vine what he plants; and sing
The merry Songs of Peace to all his Neighbours,
God shall be truly knowne, and those about her,
From her shall read the perfect way of Honour,
And by those claimeth their greatneſſe; not 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 ſelfe.
So shall he leave her Blesſedneſſe to One,
(When Heaven shall call her from this clowd of darknes)
Who, from the ſacred Aſhes of her Honour
Shall Star-like rife, as great in fame as he was,
And ſo stand fix'd. Peace, Plenty, Love, Truth, Terror,
That were the ſeruants to this choſen Infant,
Shall then be his, and like a Vine grow to him;
Where ever the bright Sunne of Heaven shall ſhine,
His Honor, and the greatneſſe of his name,
Shall be, and make new Nations. He shall flourith,

And like a Mountaine Cedar, reach his branches,
To all the Plaines about him: Our Childrens Children
Shall fee this, and blesſe Heaven.
Kin. Thou speakeſt wonders.
Cran. She shall be to the happineſſe of England,
An aged Princeſſe; 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 have her; yet a Virgin,
A moſt unſpotted Lilly, shall ſhe paffe
To th'ground, and all the World shall mourne her.
Kin, O Lord Archbithop
Thou haſt made me now a man, never before
This happy Child, did I get any thing.
This Oracle of comfort, ha's ſo pleas'd me,
That when I am in Heaven, I shall deſire
To fee what this Child doſs, and prieſe my Maker,
I thanke ye all. To you my good Lord Maior,
And you good Brethren, I am much beholding:
I have receiv'd much Honour by your prefence,
And ye shall find me thankfull. Leade 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 ſtay:
This little-One shall make it Holy-day.

Ezekuat.

THE EPILOGUE,

T
Is ten to one, this Play can never please
All that are heere: Some come to take their cafe,
And ſleepe an Aſt or two; but those we ſcare
We have frighted with our Trumpets: ſo'tis cleare,
They'l (say it's naught) Others to heare the City
Abus'd extreamly, and to cry that's witty,
Which we have not done neither, that I ſcare

All the expected good we are like to heare,
For this Play at this time, is only in
The merciful conſtruction of good women
For ſuch a one we (how'd em: If they ſmile,
And ſay twill doe; I know within a while,
All the best men are cures; for 'tis ill hap,
If they hold, when their Ladies bid em clap,

FINIS.

2

THE TRAGEDIE OF
Troylus and Creſsida.

Actus Primus. Scena Prima.

Enter Pandarus and Troylus.

Troylus.

All here my Varlet, Ile unarme 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 ne're be mended? (strength,

Troy. The Greekes are strong, and skilfull to their

Fierce to their skill, and to their fiercenesſe Valiant :
But I am weaker then a womans teare :

Tamer then fleepe, fonder then ignorance ;

Leſſe valiant then the Virgin in the night,

And skilleſſe as unpractis'd infancy.

Pan. Well, I have told you enough of this : For my part, Ile not meddle nor make no farther. He that will have a Cake out of the Wheate, muſt needes tarry the grinding.

Troy. Have I not tarried ?

Pan. I the grinding; but you muſt tarry the boulting.

Troy. Have I not tarried ?

Pan, I the boulting ; but you muſt tarry the leav'ning.

Troy. Still have I tarried.

Pan. I, to the leavening : but heeres yet in the word hereafter, the Kneading, the making of the Cake, the heating of the Oven, and the Baking; nay, you muſt ſtay the cooling too, or you may chance to burne your lips.

Troy. Patience her ſelfe, what Godddeſſe ere ſhe be,
Doth leſſer blench at ſufferance, then I doe :
At Priams Royall Table I fit ;

And when faire Creſſid comes into my thoughts,

So (Traitor) then the comes, when ſhe is thence.

Pan. Well:

She look'd yeſternight fairer, then ever I ſaw her looke,
Or any woman elfe.

Troy. I was about to tell thee, when my heart,
As wedged with a ſigh, would rive in twaine,
Leaſt Hector, or my father should perceive me ?

I have (as when the Sunne doth light a ſcorne)

Buried this ſigh, in wrinkle of a ſmile :

But forrow, 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
Helen, well goe to, there were no more comparifon be-
tweene the Women. But for my part ſhe is my Kinſwo-
man, I would not(as they tearne it) prauſe it, but I would

fome-body had heard her talke yefterday as I did: I will
not diſprauſe your ſifter Caffandra's wit, but—

Troy. Oh Pandarus ! I tell thee Pandarus ;

When I doe tell thee, there my hopes lye drown'd:

Reply not in how many Fadomes deepe

They lye indrench'd. I tell thee, I am mad

In Creſſids love. Thou anſwer't ſhe is Faire,

Pow'r it in the open Vlcer of my heart,

Her Eyes, her Haire, her Cheeke, her Gate, her Voyce,

Handleſt in thy diſcourſe. O that her Hand

(In whole comparifon, all whites are Inke)

Writing their owne repreach ; to wholeſt ſeizure,

The Cignets Downe is harſh, and ſpirit of Senſe

Hard as the palme of Ploughman. This thou telf't me ;

As true thou telf't me, when I fay I love her :

But taying thus, inſtead of Oyle and Balme,

Thou laſt it in every gath that love hath given me,

The Knife that made it.

Pan. I ſpeake no more then truth.

Troy. Thou doſt not ſpeake so much.

Pan. Faith, Ile not meddle in't. Let her be as ſhe is,
if ſhe be faire, 'tis the better for her : and ſhe be not, ſhe
ha's the mends in her owne hands.

Troy. Good Pandarus ; How now Pandarus ?

Pan. I have had my Labour for my travell, 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 Blacke-a-Moore, 'tis all
one to me.

Troy. Say I ſhe is not faire?

Pan. I doe not care whether you doe or no. She's a
Foole to ſtay behind her Father : Let her to the Greekes,
and ſo Ile tell her the next time I fee her : for my part, Ile
meddle nor make no more i'th' matter.

Troy. Pandarus?

Pan. Not I.

Troy. Sweet Pandarus.

Pan. Pray you ſpeake no more to me, I will leave all
as I found it, and there an end.
Exit Pand.

Sound Alarum.

Troy. Peace you ungracious Clamors, peace rude founds,
Fooles on both fides, Helen muſt needs be faire,
When with your bloud you daily paint her thus.

I

The Tragedy of Troylus and Creſsidæ.

3

I cannot fight upon this Argument :  
It is too farv'd a ſubject for my Sword,  
But Pandarus : O gods ! How doe you plague me ?
I cannot come to Creſſid but by Pandar,  
And he's as teachy to be wou'd to woe,  
As he is flubborne, chaſt, againſt all ſuite.

Tell me Apollo for thy Daphne's Love
What Creſſid is, what Pandar, and what we:
Her bed is India, there ſhe lies, a Pearle,
Betweene our Ilium, and where ſhe ſefides
Let it be cald the mild and wandring flood,
Our ſelſe the Merchant, and this ſaying Pandar,
Our doubtfull hope, our convoy and our Barkè.

Alarum. Enter Æneas.

Æne. How now Prince Troylus ?

Wherefore not afield ?

Troy. Because not here; this woman anſwer forts,
for womanliſt 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 Alenelles.

Troy. Let Paris bleed, 'tis but a ſcar to ſcorne.

Alarum. Paris is gor'd with Menelaus horne.

Æne. Hearke 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 twifl haſt.

Troy. Come goe we then together.

Enter Creſſid and her man.

Cre. Who were theſte went by ?

Man. Queene Hecuba, and Hellen.

Cre. And whither goe they ?

Man. Up to the Eatterne Tower ;

Whole height commands as ſubject all the vale,

Toſe the battell; Heſtor whole patience,

Isa a Vertue fixt, to day was mov'd :

He chides Andromache, and ſtrooke his Armorer,

And like as there were husbandry in Warre

Before the Sunne roſe, he was harneſt light,

And to the field goe's he ; where every flower

Did as a Prophet weepe what it foreſtaw,
In Heſtor's wrath.

Cre. What was his cauſe of anger ?

Man. The noſie goe's this ;

There is among the Greekes,

A Lord of Troyan blood, Nephew to Heſtor,

They call him Ajax.

Cre. Good; and what of him ?

Man. They ſay he is a very man per ſe and flands alone.

Cre. So doe all men, unſelle they are drunke, ſicke, or have no legges.

Man. This man Lady, hath 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 cruſt
into folly, his folly fauced with diſcretion : there is no
man hath vertue, that he hath not a glimpſe of, nor a-
my man an attaint, but he carries ſome flaine of it. He is
melancholy without cauſe and merry againſt the haire, he
hath the joynts of every thing, but every thing ſo out
of joynr, that he is agowty Briareus, many hands and
noſe; or purblinded Argus, all ſeves and no fight.

Man. But how ſhould this man that makes me smile,
make Heſtor angry ?

Man. They ſay he yefterday cop'd Heſtor in the bat-

tell and ſtrooke him downe, the diſdaine & ſhame where-
of, hath ever ſince kept Heſtor faſting and waking.

Enter Pandarus.

Cre. Who comes here ?

Man. Madam, your Vnkle Pandarus.

Cre. Heſtor a gallant man.

Man. As may be in the world Lady.

Pan. What's that ? what's that ?

Cre. Good morrow Vnkle Pandarus.

Pan. Good morrow Cozen Creſſid: what doe you taſke
of? good morrow Alexander: how doe you Cozen? when
were you at Ilium ?

Cre. This morning Vnkle.

Pan. What were you talking of when I came ? Was
Heſtor arm'd and gone ere ye came to Ilium ? Helen was
not up ? was he ?

Cre. Heſtor was gone, but Hellen was not up.

Pan. E'ene ſo; Heſtor was ſtirring early.

Cre. That were we talking of, and of his anger :

Pan. Was he angry ?

Cre. So he ſayes here.

Pan. True he was ſo ; I know the cauſe too, heede 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 Jupiter ; there's no comparifon.

Pan. What not betweene Troylus and Heſtor ? doe you
know a man if you fee him ?

Cre. I, if I ever ſaw 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 Heſtor.

Pan. No nor Heſtor is not Troylus in ſome degrees.

Cre. 'Tis juſt, to each of them he is himſelſe.

Pan. Himſelſe ? alas poore Troylus I would he were.

Cre. So he is.

Pan. Condition I had gone bare-foote to India.

Cre. He is not Heſtor.

Pan. Himſelſe ? no ? he's not himſelſe, would a were
himſelſe; well, the gods are above, time muſt friend or
end : well Troylus well, I would my heart were in her bo-
dy ; no, Heſtor 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 ano-
ther tale when th' others come too't : Heſtor ſhall not
have his will this yeere.

Cre. He ſhall not neede it if he have his owne.

Pan. Nor his qualities.

Cre. No matter.

Pan. Nor his beauty.

Cre. 'I would not become him, his own's better.

Pan. You have no judgement Neece ; Hellen her ſelſe
ſware th' other day, that Troylus for a browne favour (for
ſo 'tis I muſt confelſe) 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 above Paris.

Cre. Why Paris hath colour inough.

Pan. So he has.

Cre. Then Troylus should have too much, if he prais'd
him

aa 2

The Tragedy of Troylus and Creſsida.

4

him above, his complexion is higher then his, he having colour enough, and the other higher, is too flaming a prais for a good complexion. I had as lieve *Hellen*s golden tongue had commended *Troylus* for a copper nole.

*Pan.* I fware to you.

I thinke *Hellen* loves him better then *Paris*.

*Cre.* Then ſhe's a merry Greeke indeed.

*Pan.* Nay I am fure ſhe does, ſhe came to him th'other day into the compaſt window, and you know he has not paſt three or ſoure haires on his chinne.

*Cre.* Indeed a Tapſters Arithmetique may ſoon bring his particulars therein, to a total.

*Pan.* Why he is very yong, and yet will he within three pound lift as much as his brother *Heſtor*.

*Cre.* Is he ſo young a man, and ſo old a lifter ?

*Pan.* But to proove to you that *Hellen* loves him, ſhe came and puts me her white hand to his cloven chin.

*Cre.* *Iuno* have mercy, how came it cloven ?

*Pan.* Why, you know 'tis diupled,

I thinke his ſimlyling becomes him better then any man in all Phrigia.

*Cre.* Oh he ſmiles valiantly.

*Pan.* Does he not ?

*Cre.* Oh yes, and 'twere a clow'd in *Autumnne*.

*Pan.* Why goe to then, but to prove to you that *Hellen* loves *Troylus*.

*Cre.* *Troylus* will ſtand to the Prooſe, if youle proove it ſo.

*Pan.* *Troylus* ? why he eſteemes her no more then I eſteeme an addle egge.

*Cre.* If you love an addle egge as well as 'you love an idle head, you would eate chickens i'th'ſhell.

*Pan.* I cannot chufe but laugh to thinke how ſhe tickled his chin, indeed ſhe has a marvell's white hand I muſt needs conſeſſe.

*Cre.* Without the racke.

*Pan.* And ſhe takes upon her to ſpye 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 *Caffandra* laught.

*Cre.* But there was more temperate fire under 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.

*Cre.* And t'had beene a greene haire, I ſhould have laught too.

*Pand.* They laught not ſo much at the haire, as at his pretty anſwer.

*Cre.* What was his anſwer ?

*Pan.* Quoth ſhe, here'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 fifty haires quoth hee, and one white, that white haire is my Father, and all the reſt are his Sonnes. *Inpiter* quoth ſhe, which of theſe haires is *Paris* my husband ? The forked one quoth he, pinckt out and give it him; but there was ſuch laughing, and *Hellen* ſo bluſh'r, and *Paris* ſo chaſt, and all the reſt ſo laught, that it paſt.

*Cre.* So let it now,

For is has beene a great wile going by.

*Pan.* Well Cozen,

I told you a thing yefterday, thinke on't.

*Cre.* So I doe.

*Pan.* Ile be ſworne 'tis true, he will weepe you an 'twere a man borne in Aprill.

*Cre.* And Ile ſpring up in his teares, an 'twere a nettle against May.

*Pan.* Harke they are comming from the field, ſhall we ſtand up here and ſee them, as they paſſe toward Ilium? good Neece doe, weet Neece *Creſſida*.

*Cre.* At your pleasure.

*Pan.* Heere, heere, here's an excellent place, here we may ſee moſt bravely, Ile tell you them all by their names, as they paſſe by, but marke *Troylus* above the reſt.

*Enter Aeneas.*

*Cre.* Speake not ſo low'd.

*Pan.* That's *Aeneas*, is not that a brave man, he's one of the flowers of Troy. I can tell you, but marke *Troylus*, you ſhall fee anon.

*Cre.* Who's that ?

*Enter Antenor.*

*Pan.* That's *Antenor*, he has a ſhrew'd witt I can tell you, and he's a man good enough, he's one o'th foundeſt judgement in Troy whoſoever, and a proper man of perſon: when comes *Troylus* ? Ile ſhow you *Troylus* anon, if he ſee me, you ſhall fee him nod at me.

*Cre.* Will he give you the nod ?

*Pan.* You ſhall fee.

*Cre.* If he does, the rich ſhall have more.

*Enter Heſtor.*

*Pan.* That's *Heſtor*, that, that, looke you, that there's a fellow. Goe thy way *Heſtor*, there's a brave man Neece. O brave *Heſtor* ! Looke how he looks ? there's a countenance; iſt not a brave man ?

*Cre.* O brave man !

*Pan.* Is a not ? It does a mans heart good, looke you what hackes are on his Helmet, looke you yonder, doe you ſee ? Looke you there? There's no jeſting, laying on, tak't off, who will, as they ſay, there be hackes.

*Cre.* Be thate with ſwords ?

*Enter Paris.*

*Pan.* Swords, any thing he cares not, and the divell, come to him, it's all one, by Godſlid it does ones heart good. Yonder comes *Paris*, yonder comes *Paris*; looke yee yonder Neece, iſt not a gallant man too, iſt not? Why this is brave now : who faſd he came hurt home to day? He's not hurt, why this will doe *Hellen's* heart good now, ha ? Would I could ſee *Troylus* now, you ſhall *Troylus* anon.

*Cre.* Whoſe that ?

*Enter Hellenus.*

*Pan.* That's *Hellenus*, I marvell where *Troylus* is, that's *Hellenus*, I thinke he went not forth to day: that's *Hellenus*.

*Cre.* Can *Hellenus* fight Vncle ?

*Pan.* *Hellenus* no : yes heele fight indifferent well, I marvell where *Troylus* ; harke, doe you not heare the people cry *Troylus* ? *Hellenus* is a Prieft.

*Cre.* What ſneaking fellow comes yonder ?

*Enter Troylus.*

*Pan.* Where ? Yonder ? That's *Dicophobus*. 'Tis *Troylus* ! There's a man Neece, hem; *Brave* *Troylus* the Prince of Chivalry.

*Cre.* Peace, for ſhame peace.

*Pand.* Marke him, note him : O brave *Troylus*; looke well upon him Neece, looke you how his Sword is blonſt, died, and his Helme more hackt then *Hellers*, and how he looke's

The Tragedy of Troylus and Creſida.

5

lookes, and how he goes, O admirable youth! he ne're
faw three and twenty. Goe thy way *Troylus*, goe thy
way; had I a filter were a *Grace*, or a daughter a Goddeſſe,
he should take his choyce. O admirable man! *Paris*?
*Paris* is durt to him, and I warrant, *Hellen* to change,
would give money to boot.

*Enter common Souldiers.*

*Cre.* Here come more.

*Pan.* Affes, fooles, dolts, chaffe and bran, chaffe and bran; porridge after meat. I could live and dye i'th'eyes of *Troylus*. Ne're looke, ne're looke; the Eagles are gone, Crowes and Dawes, Crowes and Dawes: I had rather be such a man as *Troylus*, then *Agamemnon*, and all Greece.

*Cre.* Cref. There is among the Greekes *Achilles*, a better, man then *Troylus*.

*Pan.* *Achilles* ? a Dray-man, a Porter, a very Camell.

*Cre.* Well, well.

*Pan.* Well, well ? Why have you any difcretion? have you any eyes? Doe you know what a man is? Is not birth, beauty, good ſhape, diſcours[e], manhood, learning, gen-tenneſſe, vertue, youth, liberality, and ſo forth: the Spice, and ſalt that feafons a man ?

*Cre.* I, a mine'd man, and then to be bak'd with no Date in the pye, for then the mans dates out.

*Pan.* You are such another woman, one knowes not at what ward you lye.

*Cre.* Vpon my backe, to defend my belly ſupon my wit, to defend my wiles; upon my ſecrecy, to defend mine honeſty; my Maske, to defend my beauty, and you to defend all theſe: and at all theſe wards I lye, at a thou-fand warches.

*Pan.* Say one of your watches.

*Cre.* Nay, Ile watch you for that, and that's one of the cheſſe of them too; if I cannot ward what I would not have hit, I can watch you for telling how I took the blow, unſelle it (well paſt hiding, and then is paſt wat-ching,

*Enter Boy.*

*Pan.* Your are ſuch another.

*Boy.* Sir, my Lord would instantly (peake with you)*

*Pan.* Where?

*Boy.* At your owne houſe.

*Pan.* Good Boy tell him I come, I doubt he be hurt.

*Fare ye well good Neece.*

*Cre.* Adieu Vnkle.

*Pan.* Ile be with you Neece by and by.

*Cre.* To bring Vnkle.

*Pan.* I, a token from *Troylus*.

*Cre.* By the fame token, you are a Bawd. *Exit Pand.*
Words, yowes, gifts, teares, and loves full ſacrifice,
He offers in others enterprife:

But more in *Troylus* thouand fold I fee,

Then in the glaſſe of *Pandar's* praſe may be;

Yet hold Ioff. Women are Angels wooing,

Things won are done, the foules joy lyes in dooing :

That the beſlov'd, knowes nought, that knowes not this:
Menprize the thing ungain'd, more then it is.

That the was never yet, that ever knew

Love goe to sweet, as when desire did ſie:

Therefore this maxime out of love I teach;

" *Achievement*, is command : *ungain'd*, *beſech*.

That though my hearts Contents firme love doth beare,
Nothing of that ſhall from mine eyes appeare.

*Sonet.* Enter *Agamemnon*, *Neſtor*, *Ulyſſer*, *Dionie- des*, *Menelaus*, with others.

*Agam.* Princes:

What grieſe hath fet the laundies on your cheekes?

The ample propofition that hopes makes

In all deſlges, begun on earth below

Fayles in the promiſt largenſeſſe: checkes and diſaſters

Grow in the veines of actions higheſt rear'd.

As knots by the conflux of meeting ſap,

Inſect the found Pine, and diverts his Graine

Tortive and errant from his courſe of growth.

Nor Princes, is it matter new to us,

That we come ſhort of our ſuppofe ſo farre,

That after feven yeares ſiege, yet *Troy* walles ſtand,

Sith every action that hath gone before,

Whereof we have Record, triall did draw

Bias and thwart, not anſwering the ayme.

And that unbodied figure of the thought

That gave't ſurmiſed ſhape. Why then (you Princes)

Doe you with cheekes abaf'd, behold our workes,

And thinke them ſhame, which are (indeed) nought eſſe

But the protraſive trials of great Iove,

To finde perſilive conſtancy in men?

The fineſeſſe of which Mettall is not found

In Fortunes love: for then, the Bold and Coward,

The Wife and foole, the Artiſt, and un-read,

The hard and ſoft, ſeeme all aſſin'd, and kin.

But in the Wind and Tempeſt of her frowne,

Diſtinction with a lowd and powrefull fan,

Puffing at all, winnowes the light away ;

And what hath maffe, or matter by it ſelſe,

Lies rich in Vertue, and unmingled.

*Neſt.* With due Obſervance of thy godly ſeat,

Great *Agamemnon*, *Neſtor* shall apply

Thy latet words.

In the reſpape 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 Nobie bulke?

But let the Ruffian *Boreas* once enrage

The gentle *Thetis*, and anon behold

The ſtrong ribb'd Barke through liquid mountains cut's

Bounding betweene the two moyſt Elements

Like *Perſens* Horſe. Where's then the fawcy Boate,

Whofe weake untimber'd ſides but even now

Co-rival'd Greatneſſe ? Either to harbour ſled,

Or made a Toſke for Neptune. Even ſo,

Doth valours ſhew, and valours worth divide

In ſtormes of Fortune.

For, in her ray and brightneſſe,

The Heard hath more annoſance by the Brize

Then by the Tyger: But, when the ſplitting winde

Makes flexible the knees of knotted Oakes,

And flyes ſled under 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 keys,

Retyres to chiding Fortune.

*Vifl.* *Agamemnon.*

Thou great Commander, Nerve, and Bone of Greece,

Heart of our Numbers, ſoule, and onely ſpirit,

In whom the tempers, and the mindeſs of all

Should be ſhut up; Heare what *Ulyſſer* ſpeakes.

Befides th'applaſe and approbation

The which (moſt mighty) for thy place and may,

aa 3

And

The Tragedy of Troylus and Crefida.

7

Bold as an Oracle, and lets Thersites

Aclave (whofe Gall coines flanders like a Mint,) To match us in comparifons with durt, To weaken and dif credit our expofure, How ranke ſoever rounded in with danger.

Uſt. They taxe our Policy, and call it Cowardice, Count Wifedome as no member of the Warre, Fore ſtall preficience, and ſceme no aſte But that of hand : The thill and mental parts, That doe contrive how many hands shall ſtrike When fineneſle calls them on, and know by meaſure Of their obſervant toyle, the Enemies waight, Why this hath not a ſingers dignity : They call this Bed-worke, Mapp'ry, Cloſet-Warre : So that the Ramme that batters downe the wall, For the great (wing and rudeneneſſe of his poize, They place before his hand that made the Engine, Orthofe that with the fineneſſe of their ſonſes, By Reaſon guide his execution.

Nef. Let this be granted, and *Achilles* horſe

Makes many *betis* ſonnes.

Tucke

*Aga.* What Trumpet ? Looke Menelaus.

*Men.* From Troy.

*Enter Aeneas.*

*Aga.* What would you ſore our Tent ?

*Aene.* Is this great *Agamemnon's* Tent, I pray you ?

*Aga.* Even this.

*Aene.* May one that is a Herald, and a Prince,

Doe a faire meſſage to his Kingly eares ?

*Aga.* With ſurety ſtronger then *Achilles* arme,
*For* all the Greekif heads, which with one voyce
Call *Agamemnon* Head and Generall.

*Aene.* Faire leave, and large ſecurity. How may I aſtranger to thofe moſt Imperiall looks, Know them from eyes of other Mortals ?

*Aga.* How ?

*Aene.* I: I aske, that I might waken reverence,

And on the cheeke 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 ſcormes us, or the men of Troy
Are ceremonious Courtiers.

*Aene.* Courtiers as free, as debonnaire; unarm'd,

As bendeing Angels : that's their Fame, in peace :
But when they would ſeeme Souldiers, they have galles,
Good armes, strong joynths, true ſwords, and Iowes accord
Nothing to full of heart. But peace *Aeneas*,

Peace Troyan, lay thy ſinger on thy lips,

The worthineſſe of praiſe diſtaines his wort :

If that he prais'd him ſelſe, bring the praiſe forth,

What the repining enemy commends,

That breath ſame blowes, that praiſe ſole pure tranſeends

*Aga.* Sir, you of Troy, call you your ſelſe *Aeneas*?

*Aene.* I Greece, that is my name.

*Aga.* What's your affayre I pray you ?

*Aene.* Sir pardon, 'tis for *Agamemnon's* eares.

*Aga.* He heares nought privately

That comes from Troy.

*Aene.* Nor I from Troy come neſt to whifper him,
I bring a Trumpet to awake his ſare,
To let his ſence on the attentive bent,
And then to ſpeake.

*Aga.* Speake frankly as the winde,

It is not *Agamemnon's* ſleeping houre ;

That thou ſhalt know Troyan he is awake,

He tells theſe to himſelfe.

*Aene.* Trumpet blow loud.

Send thy braſſe voyce through all theſe lazy Tents,
And every Greeke of mettle, let him know,
What Troy meanes fairely, ſhall be ſpoke alow.

*The Trumpets found.*

We have great *Agamemnon*, heere in Troy,
A Prince call'd *Heſtor*, *Priam* is his Father :
Who in this dull and long-continew'd Truce
Is rauſy growne. He bad me take a Trumpet,
And to this purpofe ſpeake : Kings, Princes, Lords,
If there be one among't the fayr't of Greece,
That holds his Honor higher then his eafe,
That ſeekeſ his praiſe, more then he ſeares his perill,
That knowes his Valour, and knowes not his ſcare,
That loves his Milſtris more then in conſeſſion,
(With truant vowes to her owne lips he loves)
And dare avow her Beauty, and her Worth,
In other armest then hers : to him this Challenge,
*Heſtor*, in view of Troyans, and of Greekes,
Shall make it good, or doe his beſt to doe it.
He hath a Lady, wifer, fairer, truer,
Then ever 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 istrue in love.
If any come, *Heſtor* ſhall honour him :
If none, he'll ſay in Troy when he retyres,
The Grecian Dames are ſun-burnt, and not worth
The ſplinter of a Launce : Even ſo much.

*Aga.* This ſhall be told our Lovers, Lord *Aeneas*,
If none of them have ſoule in ſuch a kind,
We left them all at home : But we are Souldiers,
And may that Souldier a meere recreant prove,
That meanes not, hath not, or is not in love :
If then one is, or hath, or meanes to be,
That one meets *Heſtor*, if none, Ile be he.
*Nef.* Tell him of *Neflor*, one that was a man
When *Heſtor's* Grandfire fuckt; he is old now,
But if there be not in our Grecian mould,
One Noble man, that hath one (parke of fire
To anſwer for his Love; tell him from me,
Ile hide my Silver beard in a Gold Beaver,
And in my Vantbrace put this wither'd drawne,
And meeting him, will 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.

*Aene.* Now heavens forbid ſuch ſcaſity of youth.

*Vilſ.* Amen.

*Aga.* Faire Lord *Aeneas*,

Let me touch your hand :

To our Pavillion ſhall Ileade you firſt :

*Achilles* ſhall have word of this intent,

So ſhall each Lord of Greece from Tent to Tent ;

Your ſelſe ſhall Feaſt with us before you goe,

And finde the welcome of a Noble Foe.

*Exeunt.*

*Manent Vilſſes, and Neflor.*

*Vilſ.* *Neflor.*

*Nef.* What ſayes *Vilſſes*?

*Vilſ.* I have a young conceſſion in my braine,

Be you my time to bring it to ſome ſhape.

*Neflor.* What is't?

*Vilſ.* This 'tis :

Blunt wedges rive hard knots : the ſeemed Pride

That hath to this maturity blowne up

11

9

Ther. Nay but regard him well.

Achil. Well, why I doe so.

Ther. But yet you looke not well upon him: for who
came ever you take him to be, he is *Ajax*.

Achil. I know that foole.

Ther. I, but that foole knowes not himselfe.

Ajax. Therefore I beate thee.

Ther. Lo, lo, lo, lo, lo, what *modicus* of wit he utters his
evafions have cares thus long. I have bobb'd his Braine
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*) *Ajax* who weares
his wit in his belly, and his guttes in his head, Ile tell you
what I fay of him.

Achil. What ?

Ther. I fay this *Ajax*.

Achil. Nay good *Ajax*.

Ther. Has not so much wit.

Achil. Nay I muſt hold you.

Ther. As will flop the eye of *Helenus* Needle, for whom
he comes to fight.

Achil. Peace foole.

Ther. I would have peace and quietneſſe, but the foole
will not: he there, that he, looke you there.

Ajax. O thou damn'd Curre, I ſhall—

Achil. Will you ſet you wit to a Foole ?

Ther. No I warrant you, for a foolees will ſhame it.

Pat. Good words *Therifites*.

Achil. What's the quarrell?

Ajax. I bad thee vile Owle, goe learne me the tenure
of the Proclamation, and he railles upon me.

Ther. I ſerve the notor.

Ajax. Well, goe to, goe to.

Ther. I ſerve heere voluntary.

Achil. Your laſt ſervice was ſufferance, 'twas not vo-
luntary, no man is beaten voluntary: *Ajax* was heere the
voluntary, and you as under an Imprefle.

Ther. Ene ſo, a great deale of your wit too lyes in your
finneſes, or eſle there be Liars: *Heſtor* ſhall have a great
catch, if he knocke out either of your brains, he were
as good cracke a fuſty nut with no kernel.

Achil. What with me too *Therifites*?

Ther. There's *Uſſiles*, and old *Neſtor*, whoſe Wit was
mouldy ere their Grandſirs had naines on their toes; yoke
you like draft-Oxen, and make you plough up the waire.

Achil. What ? what ?

Ther. Yes good footh, to *Achilles*, to *Ajax*, to—

Ajax. I ſhall cut out your tongue.

Ther. 'Tis no matter, I ſhall ſpeake as much as thou
afterwards.

Pat. No more words *Therifites*.

Ther. I will hold my peace when *Achilles* Brooch bids
me, ſhall I?

Achil. There's for you *Patroclus*.

Ther. I will ſee you hang'd like Clotpoles ere I come
any more to your Tents; I will keepe where there is wit
flurring, and leave the faction of foolees.
Exit.

Pat. A good riddance.

Achil. Marry this Sir is proclaim'd through al our hoſt,
That *Heſtor* by the ſift houre of the Sunne,
Will with a Trumpet, 'twixt our Tents and Troy

Ther. To morrow morning call home Knight to Armes,
That bath a ſtomacke, and fuch a one that dare
Maintaine I know not what: 'tis trafh. Farewell.

Ajax. Farewell? who ſhall anſwer him ?

Ther. I know not, 'tis put to Lottery : otherwife

Achil. I know not, 'tis put to Lottery : otherwife

He knew his man.

Aja. O meaning you, I will goe learne more of it. Exit.

Enter Priam, Heſtor, Troyus, Paris, and Heleus.

Pri. After ſo many hours, lives, ſpeeches ſpent,

Thus once againe fayes *Neſtor* from the Greekes,

Deliver *Helen*, and all damage eſſe.

(As honour, loffe of time, travaile, expence,

Wounds, friends, and what eſſe decre that is confum'd
In not diſſeftion of this cormorant Warre?

Shall be ſtroke off. Heſtor, what ſay you too't.

Heſt. Though no man leſſer feares the Greekes then I,
As farre as touches my particular : yet dread *Priam*,
There is no Lady of more ſofter bowels,

More ſpungy, to ſucke in the ſenſe of ſteare,

More ready to cry out, who knowes what follows.

Then *Heſtor* is: the wound of peace is ſurety,

Surety ſecre ; but modeſt doubt is cal'd.

The Beacon of the wife: the tent that ſearches

To'th'bottomore of the worſt. Let *Helen* goe.

Since the firſt ſword was drawne about this queſtion,

Every tythe ſoule 'mongſt many thouſand diſmes,

Hath beene as decre as *Hellen*: I meane of ours:

If we have loff ſo many tenths of ours

To guard a thing not ours, nor worth to us

(Had it our name) the valew of one ten;

What merit's in that reaſon which denies

The yeelding of her up?

Troy. Eye, ſie, my Brother;

Weigh you the worth and honour of a King

(So great as our dread Father) in a Scile
Of common Ounces? Will you with Counters ſumme

The paſt proportion of his infinite ?

And buckle in a waſte moſt farthomleſſe,

With ſpannes and inches ſo diminutive,

As ſeares and reaſons ? Eye for godly ſhame?

Hel. No marvell though you bite ſo farþe at reaſons,
You are empty of them, ſhould not our father

Bear the great ſway of his affaires with reaſons,

Becaufe your ſpeech hath none that tells him for?

Troy. You are for dreames and flumbers brother Prieft,
You furre your gloves 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 object of all harme,

Who marvels then when *Helenus* beholds

A Grecian and his ſword, if he doe 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 Mercury from Iove,

Let's ſhut our gates and fleepe: Manhood and Honor

Shold have hard hearts, would they but far their thoughts

With this cramm'd reaſon: reaſon and reſpect,

Makes Lovers pale, and luftyhood deject.

Heſt. Brother, he is not worth

What he doth coſt the holding.

Troy. What's aught, but as 'tis vale'd ?

Heſt. But value dwels not in particular will,

It holds his eſtimate and dignity

As well, wherein 'tis precious of it ſelſe,

As in the prizer : 'Tis made Idolatry,

To make the ſervice greater then the god,

And the will dotes that is inclineable

To what inſection ſily ſelſe aſſects,

Without ſome image of th' affected merit.

Troy. I take to day a Wife, and my election

Is led on in the conduct of my will;

My

10

My will enkindled by mine eyes and eares,
Two traded Pylots twixt the dangerous flores
Of Will, and Iudgement: How may I avoyde
(Although my will diftafte what it elected)
The Wafe Ichofey, there can be no evafion
To blench from this, and to itand firme by honour.
We turne not backe the Silkes upon the Merchant
When we have spoyld them; nor the remainder Viands
We doe not throw in unrelpeetive places,
Because we now are full. It was thought meete
*Paris* should doe fome vengeance on the Greekes ;
Your breath of full confent bellied his Sails,
The Seas and Windes (old Wranglers) tooke a Truce,
And did him ſervice; he touch'd the Ports defir'd,
And for an old Aunt whom the Greekes held Captive,
He brought a Greekian Queen, whole youth & freflneffe
Wrinkles *Apolloes*, and makes itale the morning.
Why keepe we her ? the Greekians keepe our Aunt :
Is the worth keeping ? Why is he a Pearle,
Whole price hath launch'd above a thouand Ships,
And turn'd Crown'd Kings to Merchants.
If you'll avouch, twas wildeome *Paris* went,
(As you muft needs, for you all cride, Go, goe :)
If you'll confefſe, he brought home Noble pize,
(As you muſt needs, for you all clapt your hands)
And cride ineſtimable; why doe you now
The illeſe of your proper Wifedomes rate,
And doea deed that Fortune never did?
Begger the eſtimation which you priz'd,
Richer then Sea and Land ? O Theft moſt bafe !
That we have ſtolne what we doe feare to keepe;
But Theeves unworthy 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 baire about her eares.

Caf. Cry *Troyans*, cry.

Priam. What noye ? what freeke is this ?

Troy. 'Tis our mad ſifter, I doe know her voyce.

Caf. Cry *Troyans*.

Hec. It is *Caffandra*.

Caf. Cry *Troyans* cry; lend me ten thouand eyes;
And I will fill them with Propheticke teares.

Hec. Peace ſifter, peace.

Caf. Virgins, and Boyes; mid-age and wrinkled old,
Soft infancy, that nothing can but cry,
Add to my cla nour : let us pay betimes
A moity of that mafle of moane to come.
Cry *Troyans* cry, practice your eyes with teares,
Troy muſt not be, nor goodly Ilion ſtand,
Our fire brand Brother *Paris* burnes us all.
Cry *Troyans* cry, a *Helen* and a woe ;
Cry, cry, Troy burnes, or eſſe let *Helen* goe. Exit.

Hec. Now youthfull *Troylus*, doe not theſe hie ſtrains
Of divination 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 qualifie the fame ?

Troy. Why brother *Hector*,
We may not thinke the juſtneſſe of each aſte
Such, and no other then event doth forme it,
Nor once dejeſt the courage of our minds ;
Because *Caffandra*'s mad, her brainſicke raptures
Cannot diftaſte the goodneſſe of a quarrell,

Which hath our ſeverall Honours all engag'd
To make it gracious. For my private part,
I am no more touch'd, then all *Priams* ſonnes,
And Iove forbid there should be done among it us
Such things as might offend the weakeſt ſpleene,
To fight for, and maintaine.

Par. Eſle might the world convince of levy,
As well my under-takings as your counſels :
But I atteft the gods, your full confent
Gave wings to my propenſion, and cut off
All ſeares attending on to dire a project.
For what (alas) can theſe my ſingle armes ?
What propugnation is in one mans valour
To itand the pufh and enmity of thofe
This quarrell would excite ? Yet I protest,
Were I alone to paffe the difficulties,
And had as ample power, as I have will,
*Paris* should ne're retraſt what he hath done,
Nor faint in the purſuite.

Pis. *Paris*, you ſpeake
Like one be-fotted on your weet delights;
You have the Honcy ſtill, but theſe the Gall,
So to be valiant, is no praeſe at all.

Par. Sir, I propoſe not meereſly to my ſelſe,
The pleafures ſuch a beauty brings with it:
But I would have the ſoyle of her faire Rape
Wip'd oſſin honourable keeping her.
What Trefaon were it to the ſanſack'd Queene,
Diſgrace to your great worths, and ſhame to me,
Now to deliver her poffeffion up
On termes of bafe compulſion ? Can it be,
That ſo degenerate a ſtraine as this,
Should once fet foot in your generous boſomes?
There not the meaneſt ſpirit on our party,
Without a heart to dare, or ſword to draw,
When *Helen* is defended : nor none ſo Noble,
Whole life were ill beſtow'd, or death unfam'd.
Where *Helen* is the ſubject. Then (I ſay)
Well may we fight for her, whom we know well,
The worlds large ſpaces cannot paralell:

Heiſ. *Paris* and *Troyus*, you have both ſaid well :
And on the caufe and quethion now in hand,
Have gloz'd, but ſuperficially ; not much
Vnlike young men, whom *Aristotle* thought
Vnſit to heare Morall Philofophy,
The Reaſons you alledge, doe more conduce
To the hot paffion of diſtemp'red blood,
Then to make up a free determination
*T'wixt right and wrong :* For pleafure, and revenge,
Have cares more deafe then Adders, to the voyce
Of any true decifion. Nature craves
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 reſtilt the fame,
There is a Law in each well-ordred Nation,
To curbe thate raging appetite that are
Moſt diſobedient and reſraftory.
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 perſilt
In doing wrong, extenuates not wrong,
But makes it much more heavy. *Hectors* opinion

II

Is this in way of truth: yet nere the leffe,
My fpritely brethren, I prepend to you
In revolution to keepe Helen still;
For'tis a caufe that hath no meane dependence,
Upon our joynt and feverallg dignities.

Troy. Why ? there you toucht the life of our defigne:
Were it notglory that we more affected,
Then the performance of our heaving ſpleenes,
I would not with a drop of Trean blood,
Spent more in her defence. But worthy Hector,
She is a theme of honor and renowne,
A ſpure to valiant and magnanimous deeds,
Whole preſent courage may beate downe our foes,
And fame in time to come canonize us.
For I prefume brave Hector would not lofe
Sorich advantage of a promiſ'd glory,
As ſmiles upon the fore-head of this action,
For the wide worlds renewe.

Heiſ. I am yours,

You valiant off-spring of great Priamus,
I have a roiling challenge ſent among it
The dull and factious nobles of the Greekes?
Will ſtrike amazement to their drowne ſpirits,
I was advertiz'd, their Great generall flept;
Whilft emulation in the army crept:
This I prefume will wake him. Exeunt.

Enter Tberſites ſolies.

Now now Tberſites what loft in the Labyrinth of thy
fury? ſhall the Elephant Ajax carry it thus? he beates
me, and I raile at him: O worthy ſatisfaction, would it
were otherwife : that I could beate him, whil't he rail'd
at me: Sfoote, Ile learne to conjure and raife Divels, but
Ile fee ſome ſlue of my ſpitefull execrations. Then theſe
Achilles a rare Enginer. If Troy be not taken till theſe two
undermine it, the wals will itand till they fall of them-
ſelves, O thou great thunder-darter of Olympus, ſorget
that thou art love the King of gods : and Mercury, loofe
all the Serpentine craft of thy Caduceus, if thou take not
that little leſe then little wit from them that they
have, which ſhort-arm'd ignorance it ſelſe knowes, is to
abundant ſcarſe, it will not in circumvention deliver a
Fly from a Spider, without drawing the maſſe 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. I have
faid my prayers and divell, envy, lay Amen: What ho?
my Lord Achilles?

Enter Patroclus.

Paſr. Who's there ? Tberſites. Good Tberſites come
in and raile.

Tber. If I could have remembred a guilt counterfeit,
thou would'ſt not have flupt out of my contemplation,
but it is no matter, thy ſelſe upon thy ſelſe. The common
curſe of man kind, folly and ignorance be thine in great
renewe; heaven bleſſe thee from a Tutor, and Difcipline
come not neere thee. Let thy blod be thy direction till
thy death, then if the that layes thee out layes thou art a
ſaire coarſe, Ile be ſworne and ſworne upon't the never
throwed any but Lazars, Amen. Wher's Achilles?

Paſr. What art thou then? waſt thou in a prayer ?
Tber. I, the heavens heare me.

Enter Achilles.

Achil. Who's there ?

Paſr. Tberſites, my Lord.

Achil. Where, where, art thou come ? why my cheeſe,
my digestion, why haſt thou not ſerv'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 ?

Paſt. Thy Lord Tberſites: then tell me I pray thee,
what's thy ſelſe ?

Tber. Thy knower Patroclus: then tell me Patroclus
what art thou ?

Paſr. Thou maſſt tell that know'ſt.

Achil. O tell, tell.

Ther. Ile decline the whole queſtion: Agamemnon com-
mands Achilles, Achilles is my Lord, I am Patroclus know-
er, and Patroclus is a ſoole.

Patro. Youraſcal.

Ther. Peace ſoole, I have not done.

Achil. He is a privileg'd man, proceede Therſites.

Ther. Agamemnon is a ſoole, Achilles is a ſoole, Ther-
ſites is a ſoole, and as aforefaid, Patroclus is a ſoole.

Achil. Derive this : come?

Ther. Agamemnon is a ſoole to offer to command A-
chilles, Achilles is a ſoole to be commanded of Agamemnon,
Therſites is a ſoole to ſerve ſuch a ſoole: and Patroclus is a
ſoole politiue.

Paſr. Why am I a ſoole ?

Enter Agamemnon, Vlſſes, Neſtor, Diomedes,
Ajax, and Chalcas.

Ther. Make that demand to the Creator, it ſuffles me
thou art. Looke you, who comes here?

Achil. Patroclus, Ile ſpeake with no body: come in
with me Therſites. Exiſt.

Ther. Heree is ſuch patchery, ſuch jugling, and ſuch
knavery : all the argument is a Cuckold and a Whore, a
good quarrell to draw emulations ſactions, and bleed to
death upon : Now the dry Sarpegce on the ſubject, and
Warre and Lechery confound all.

Agam. Where is Achilles ?

Paſt. Within his Tent, but ill diſpoſ'd my Lord.

Agam. Let it be knowne to him that we are here:

He ſent our Meflengers, and we lay by

Our appertains, viſiting of him :

Let him be told of, leaſt perchance he thinke

We dare not move the queſtion of our place,

Or know not what we are.

Paſr. I ſhall ſo ſay to him.

Vlſ. We ſaw him at the opening of his Tent,

He is not ſicke.

Asia. Yes, Lyon ſicke, ſicke of a proud heart: you may
call it Melancholly if you will favour the man, but by my
head, 'tis pride; but why, why, let him ſhow us the caufe?
A word my Lord.

Neſ. What moves Ajax thus to bay at him ?

Vlſ. Achilles hath inveigled his ſoole from him.

Neſ. Who, Tberſites.

Vlſ. He.

Neſ. Then will Ajax lacke matter, if he have loſt his
Argument.

Vlſ. No, you ſee he is his argument that has his argu-
ment Achilles,

Neſ. All the better, their fraction is more our with
then their fraction; but it was a ſtrong counſell that a
Foole could diſunite,

Vlſ. The amity that wifedome knits not, folly may
casily vntie.

Enter Patroclus.

Heere

Troylus and Crefrida.

13

He is not emulous, as *Achilles* is.

Vif. Know the whole world, he is as valiant.

Aix. A horzon dog, that shall palter thus with us, would he were a Trojan.

Nest. What a vice were it in *Aias* now—

Vif. If he were proud.

Dio. Or covetous of praife.

Vilg. I, or furly borne.

Dio. Or if strange, or ffele affected.

V. Thank the heavens, L, thou art of fweet compoſure; Prayſe him that got thee, ſhe that gave thee fucke:

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 deide Eternity in twaine,

And give him halfe, and for thy vigor,

Bull-bearing *Milo* his addition yeelde

To finnowie *Aias*: I will not praife thy wifedome,
Which like a bourne, a pale, a ſhore confines

Thy ſpacious and dilated parts; here's Neſtor

Inſtructed by the Antiquary times:

He muſt, he is, he cannot but be wife.

But pardon Father Neſtor, were your dayes

As greene as *Aias*, and your braine ſo temper'd,

You should not have the eminence of him,

But be as *Aias*.

Aias. Shall I call you Father ?

Vilg. I my good Sonne.

Dio. Be rul'd by him Lord *Aias*.

Vilg. There is no tarrying here, the Hart *Achilles*

Keeps thicker: płaſe it our Generall :

To call together all this ſtate of warre,

Fresh Kings are cometo Troy; to morrow

We muſt with all our maine of power ſtand ſaſt :

And here's a Lord, (come Knights from Eaſt to Weſt,

And call their flowe,) *Aias* shall cope the beſt.

Aias. Goe we to Counſaile, let *Achilles* fleeſe ;

Light Botes may faile ſwift, though greater bulkes draw

deepc. Exeunt.

*Muſſicke ſounds within.*

### Enter Pandarus and a Servant.

Pan. Friend, yon, pray you a word: Doe not you follow the yong Lord *Paris*?

Ser. I, fir. When he goes before me.

Pan. You depend upon him I meane ?

Ser. Sir, I doe depend upon the Lord.

Pan. You depend upon a nobile Gentleman: I muſt needs praife him.

Ser. The Lord be praifed.

Pa. You know me, doe you not ?

Ser. Faith fir, ſuperficially.

Pa. Friend know me better, I am the Lord *Pandarus*.

Ser. I hope I ſhall know your honour better.

Pa. I doe ſ desire it.

Ser. You are in the ſtate of Grace ?

Pa. Grace, not ſo friend, honour and Lordſhip are my

tide: What Muſſique is this ?

Ser. I doe but partly know fir: it is Muſſicke in parts.

Pa. Know you the Muſtitians.

Ser. Wholly fir.

Pa. Who play they to ?

Ser. To the hearers fir.

Pa. At whole pleasure friend ?

Ser. At mine fir, and theirs that love Muſſicke.

Pa. Command, I meane friend.

Ser. Who ſhall I command fir ?

Pa. Friend, we undertand not one another: I am too courdy, 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 blood of beauty, loves invifible foule.

Pa. Who? my Cofin *Creffida*.

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 *Creffida*. I come to ſpeake with *Paris* from the Prince *Troylus*: I will make a complement all aſſault upon him, for my buſineſſe ſeethes.

Ser. Sodden buſineſſe, there's a ſtewed phraſe indeede.

### Enter *Paris* and *Helena*.

Pan. Faire be to you my Lord, and to all this faire company: faire defires in all faire meaſure fairely guide them, eſpecially to you faire Queene, faire thoughts bee your faire pillow.

Hel. Deere L. you are full of faire words.

Pan. You ſpeake your faire pleaſure: ſweet *Queene*: faire Prince, here is good broken Muſſicke.

Par. You have broken it cozen: and by my life you ſhall make it whole againe, you ſhall peeece it out with a peecce of your performance. *Nel*, he is full of harmony.

Pan. Truly Lady no.

Hel. O fir.

Pan. Rude in ſooth, in good ſooth very rude.

Paris. Well ſaid my Lord: well, you ſay ſo in ſits,

Pan. I have buſineſſe to my Lord, deere *Queene*: my Lord will you vouchſaſe me a word ?

Hel. Nay, this ſhall not hedge us out, weele heare you ſing certainly.

Pan. Well ſweete *Queene*: you are pleaſant with mee, but, marry thus my Lord, my deere Lord, and moſt eſtemed friend your brother *Troylus*.

Hel. My Lord *Pandarus*, hony ſweete Lord,

Pan. Go to ſweete *Queene*, goe to.

Commends himſelfe moſt affectionately to you.

Hel. You ſhall not bob us out of our melody: If you doe, our melancholly upon your head.

Pan. Sweete *Queene*, ſweete *Queene*, that's a ſweete *Queene* I faith—

Hel. And to make a ſweet Lady ſad, is a ſowre ſoffence.

Pan. Nay, that ſhall not ſerve your turne, that ſhall it not in truth la. Nay, I care not for ſuch words, no, no. And my Lord he defires you, that if the King call for him at Supper, you will make this excufe.

Hel. My Lord *Pandarus*?

Pan. What fayes my ſweete *Queene*, my very, very ſweete *Queene* ?

Par. What exploit's in hand, were fups he to night ?

Hel. Nay, but my Lord?

Pan. What fayes my ſweete *Queene* ? my cozen will fall out with you.

Hel. You muſt not know where he fups.

Pan. With my diſpoſer *Creffida*.

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 *Creffida*? no, your poore diſpoſer's ſicke.

Par. I ſpie.

bb

Pan. You

14

Pan. You spie, what doe you spie? come, give me an Infrument now fweete Queene.

Hel. Why this is kindly done?

Pan. My Neece is horrible in love with a thing you have fweet Queene.

Hel. She shall have it my Lord, if it be not my Lord Paris.

Pand. Hec? no fheele none of him, they two are twaine.

Hel. Falling in after falling out, may make them three.

Pan. Come, come, Ile heare no more of this, Ile sing you a fong now.

Hel. I, I, prethee now : by my troth fweet Lord thou haft a fine fore-head.

Pan. I you may, you may.

Hel. Let thy fong before : this love will undoe us all. Oh Cupid, Cupid, Cupid.

Pan. Love ? I that it shall y faith.

Par. I, good now love, love, nothing but love.

Pan. In good troth it begins so.

Love, love, nothing but love, fill more :
For O loves Bow,
Shootes both Bucke and Doe :
The Shaft confounds not that it wounds,
But tickles still the fore :
Thefe Lovers cry, oh hothey dye;
Yet that which feemes they wound to kill,
Doth turn: oh ho, to ha ha he :
So dying love lives fill,
O ho a while, but ha ha ha;
O ho grones out for ha ha ha—hey ho.

Hel. In love y faith to the very tip of the nofe.

Par. He eates nothing but doves love, and that breeds hotbloud, and hot bloud begets hot thoughts, and hot thoughts beget hot deedes, and hot deedes is love.

Pan. Is this the generation of love ? Hot bloud, hot thoughts, and hot deedes, why they are Vipers, is Love a generation of Vipers ?

Sweete Lord whose a field to day ?

Par. Hæstor, Deiphobus, 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 fomething ; yon know all Lord Pandarus ?

Pan. Not I hony fweete Queene: I long to heare how they fped to day :

Youle remember your brothers excufe ?

Par. To a hayre.

Pan. Farewell fweete Queene.

Hel. Commend me to your Neece.

Pan. I will fweete Queene.

Sound are treat.

Par. They're come from fiele : let us to Priams Hall To grecte the warriors. Sweet Hellen, I muft wooe you, To helpe unarme our Hæstor : his ftubborne buckles, With thefe your white enchanting fingers toucht, Shall more obey then to the edge of Steele, Or force of Greekifh finewes, you shall doe more Then all the Iland Kings, difarme great Hæstor.

Hel. 'Twill make us proud to be your ſervant Paris: Yea what he shall receive of us in ductie,

Gives us more palme in beauty then we have : Yea overfhines our felfe.

Sweete above thought I love thee.

Exeunt.

Enter Pandarus and Troylus Man.

Pan. How now, where's thy Maſter, at my Couzen Crefidas?

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.

Pan. Have you feene my Couſin ?

Troy. No Pandarus: I ſtaile about her doore Like a ſtrange foule upon the Stigian bankes Staying for waſtage. O be thou my Charon, And give me ſwift tranſportance to that ſfields, Where I may wallow in the Lilly beds Prop'd for the deferver. O gentle Pandarus, From Cupids ſhoulder plucke his painted wings, And flye with me to Creſſid.

Pan. Walke here ieth' Orchard, Ile bring her fraight.

Exit Pandarus.

Troy. I am giddy; expeſtation whirles me round, Th' imaginary reliſh is ſo fweete, That it inchants my fence: what will it be When that the watry pallats taſte indeede Loves thrice reputed Neſtar ? Death I feare me Sounding deſtruction, or ſome joy too fine, Too ſubtle, potent, and too ſharpe in fweetneſſe, For the capaciſt of my ruder powers; I feare it much, and I doe feare beſides, That I ſhall looke diſtinction in my joyes, As doth a battaille, when they charge on heapes The enemy flying.

Enter Pandarus.

Pan. Shee's making her ready, ſheele come fraight; you muſt be witty now, ſhe does ſo bluſh & fetches her winde ſo ſhort, as if ſhe were fraid with a ſpriele: Ile fetch her; it is the prettie villaine, ſhe fetches her breath ſo ſhort as a new tane ſparrow.

Exit Pandus.

Troy. Even ſuch a paffion doth embrace my boſome : My heart beates thicker then a feavorous pulſe, And all my powers doe their beſtowing looke, Like vaſſalage at unwarres encountering The eye of Majefiety.

Enter Pandarus and Creſſida.

Pan. Come, come, what neede you bluſh? Shames a babie; here ſhe is now, ſweare the oathes now to her, that you have ſworne to me. What are you gone a-gaine, you muſt be watcht ere you be madetame, muſt you? come your wayes, come your wayes, and you draw backward weele put you i'th' files: why do you not ſpeak to her? Come draw this curtain, & let's fee your picture. Alafle the day, how loath you are to offend day light? and 'twere darke you'd cloſe foooner. So, ſo, rub on, and kiffe the miſtreſſe; how now, a kiffe in fee-farme? build there Carpenter; the ayre is fweete. Nay, you ſhall fight your hearts out ere I part you. The Faulcon, as the Tercell, for all the Ducks i'th' River: go to, go to.

Troy. You havebereſt me of all words Lady.

Pan. Words pay no debts; give her deedes: but ſheele bereave you 'oth' deeds too, if ſhee call your activity in queſtion: what billing againe? here's in witneſſe where- or the Parties interchangeably. Come in, come in, Iego get a fire.

Exit Pand.

Cref. Will you walke in my Lord ?

Troy. O Creſſida, how often have I wiſht me thus ?

Cref. Wiſht my Lord ? the gods grant? O my Lord.

Troy. What ſhould they grant? what makes this pret- ty abruption: what too curious dreg eſpies my fweet La- dy in the fountaine of our love?

Cref. More

15

Cref. More dregs then water, if my teares have eyes.
Troy. Feares make divels of Cherubins, they never fee
truly.

Cref. Blind feare, that feeing reafon leads, findes fafer
fosting, then blinde reafon, ftumbling without feare : to
fear the worſt, oft cures the worſe.

Troy. Oh let my Lady apprehend no feare,
In all Cupids Pageant there is prefented no monſter.

Cref. Nor nothing monſtrous neither ?
Troy. Nothing but their undertakings, when we vow
to weepe feas, live in fire, cate rockes, tame Tygers, think-
ing it harder for our Miftreſſe to devife impofition
inough, then for us to undergoe any difficultie impoſed.
This is the monſtruofitie in love (Lady, ) that the will is
infinite, and the execution confin'd; that the defire is
boundleſſe, and the act a ſlave to limit.

Cref. They ſay all lovers ſware more performance
then they are able, and yet referve an ability that they
never performe: vowing more then the perfection of ten;
and diſcharging leſſe then the tenth part of one. They
that have the voyce of Lyons, and the act of Hares : are
they not monſters?

Troy. Are there ſuch ? ſuch are not we : Praife us as we
are tailed, allow us as we prove : our head ſhall goe bare
till merit crowne it: no perſection in reſerver ſhall have
a prieſe in preſent : wee will not name defert before his
birth, and being borne his addition ſhall be humble : few
words to faire faith. Troyus ſhall be ſuch to Creſſid, as
what envy can ſay worſt, ſhall be a mocke for his truth;
and what truth can ſpeake trueſt, not truer then Troy-
lus.

Enter Pandarus.

Pan. What blushing ſtill ? have you not done talking
yet?

Cref. Well Vnckle, what folly I commit, I dedicate
to you.

Pan. I thanke you for that: if my Lord get a Boy of
you, youle give him me: be true to my Lord, if he flinch,
chide me for it.

Troy. You know now your hoſtages: your Vnckles word
and my firme faith.

Pan. Nay, I give my word for her too: our kindred
thought they be long ere they are wooed, they are con-
stant being wonne : they are e Burres I can tell you, they'le
ſticke where they are throwne.

Cref. Boldneſſe comes to me now, and brings mce
heart: Prince Troyus, I have lov'd you night and day, for
many weary moneths.

Troy. Why was my Creſſid then ſo hard to win ?

Cref. Hard to ſeeue won : but I was won my Lord
With the firſt glance that ever: pardon me,

If I confefſe much you will play the tyrant :

I love you now, but not till now ſo much

But I might maſter it; in faith I lye:

My thoughts were like unbrideled children, growne

Too head-ſtrong for their mother : ſee we fooles,

Why have I blab'd? who ſhall be true to us

When we are ſo unſecret to our ſelves?

But though I lov'd you well, I wooed you not,

And yet good faith I wifht my ſelfe a man ;

Or that the women had mens privilege

Of ſpeaking firſt. Sweet, bid me hold my tongue,

For in this rapture I ſhall ſpurely ſpeake

The thing I shall repent : ſee, ſee, your ſilence

Comming in dumbneſſe, from my weakenefſe drawes

My foule of confell from me. Stop my mouth.

Troy. And ſhall, albeit ſwete Muficke ilſues 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 Heavens, what have I done !

For this time will I take my leave my Lord.

Troy. Your leave ſweet Creſſid ?

Pan. Leave ! and you take leave till to morrow mor-
ning.

Cref. Pray you content you.

Troy. What offends you Lady ?

Cref. Sir mine owne company.

Troy. You cannot ſhun your ſelfe.

Cref. Let me goe and try :

I have a kinde of ſelfe refides with you :

But an unkinde ſelfe, that it ſelfe will leave,

To be anothers foole. Where is my wit?

I would be gone : I ſpeake I know not what.

Troy. Well know they what they ſpeake, that ſpeake
ſo wifely.

Cref. Perchance my Lord, I ſhew more craft then love,
And fell ſo roundly to a large conſeſſion,

To Angle for your thoughts : but you are wife,

Or ſelfe you love not: for to be wife and love,

Exceedes mans might, that dwels with gods above.

Troy. O that I thought it could be in a woman :

And if it can, I will preſume in you,

To ſeede for aye her lampe and flames of love,

To keepe her conſtancie in plight and youth,

Out-living beauties outward, with a minde

That doth renew ſwifter then blood decaies :

Or that perſwafion could but thus convince me,

That my integritie and truth to you,

Might be affronted with the match and waight

Of ſuch a winnowed puritie in love :

How were I then up-lifted ! but alas,

I am as true, as truths ſplicitie,

And ſimpler then the infancie of truth.

Cref. In that he warre with you.

Troy. O vertuous fight,

When right with right wars, who ſhall be moſt right ?

True ſwaines in love, ſhall in the world to come

Approve their truths by Troyus when their rimes,

Full of proteſt, of oath and big compare

Want ſmiles: truth ti'd with iteration,

As true as ſleele, as plantage to the Moone :

As Sunne to day, as Turtle to her mate :

As Iron to Adamant : as Earth to th' Center :

Yet after all comparions of truth,

(As truths authenticke author to be cited)

As true as Troyus, ſhall crowne up the Verſe,

And ſanctiſe the numbers.

Cref. Prophet may you be :

If I be falſe, or ſwerve a haire from truth,

When time is old and hath forgot it ſelfe :

When water-drops have worne the ſones of Troy,

And blinde oblivion ſwallow'd Cities up;

And mightie States characterleſſe are grated

To duſtue nothing ; yet let memory,

From falſe to falſe, among falſe Maides in love.

Vpbraid my falſehood, when they'ave faid as falſe :

As Aire, as Water, as Wind, as landie earth:

As Foxe to Lambe ; as Wlſe to Heifers Calſe ;

Pard to the Hinde, or Stepdame to her Sonne ;

Yea, let them ſay, to ſticke the heart of falſehood,

bb 2

As

["16", "The Tragedy of Troylus and Crefsidia.", "As falſe as Creſſid.", "Pand. Go to, a bargaine made : ſeale it, ſeale it, Ile\nbe the witneſſe, here I hold your hand : here my Cousins,\nif ever you prove falſe one to another, ſince I have taken\nfuch paines to bring you together, let all pittifull goers\nbetweene be cal'd to the worlds end after my name : call\nthem all Panders ; let all conſtant men be Troyuſſes, all\nſalſe women Creſſids, and all brokers betweene, Panders :\nſay, Amen.", "Troy. Amen.", "Creſſ. Amen.", "Pan. Amen.", "Whereupon I will ſhew you a Chamber, which bed,\nbeaſe it ſhall not ſpeake of your prettie encounters, preſſe\nit to death : away.", "And Cupid grant all long-tide Maidens here,\nBed, Chamber, and Pander, to provide this geere. Execuſt.", "Enter Virgiles, Diomedes, Nestor, Agamemnon,\nMenelaus and Calcas.", "Cal. Now Princes for the ſervice I have done you,\nTh'advantage of the time prompts me aloud,", "To call for recompence: appeare it to your minde,\nThat through the fight I beare in things to love,\nI have abandon'd Troy, left my poſſedion,\nIncurred a Traytors name, expes'd my ſelſe,\nFrom certaine and poſſed conveniences,", "To doubtfull fortunes, ſequeſtring from me all\nThat time, acquaintance, cuſtome and condition,\nMade tame, and moſt familiar to my nature :\nAnd here to doe you ſervce am become,", "As new into the world, ſtrange, unacquainted.\nI doe beſeech you, as in way of taſte,\nTo give me now a little benefit :\nOut of thofe many regiſted in promife,\nWhich you ſay, live, to come in my behaſſe.", "Agam. What would it thou of us Troyan? make\ndemand?", "Cal. You have a Trojan prifoner, cal'd Authoron,\nYesterday tooke : Troy holds him very deere.\nOft have you (often have you, thankes therefore)\nDeſu'd my Creſſid in right great exchange.", "Whom Troy hath ſtill dem'd : but this Authoron,\nI know is ſuch a wreſt in their affaires,\nThat their negotiations all muſt ſlacke,\nWanting his mannaſe: and they will almoſt,\nGive us a Prince of blood, a Sonne of Priam,\nIn change of him. Let him be ſent great Princes,\nAnd he ſhall buy my Daughters : and her preſence,\nShall quite ſtrike off all ſervice I have done,\nIn moſt accepted paine.", "Aga. Let Diomedes beare him,\nAnd bring us Creſſid hither : Calcas shall have", "What he requeſts of us: good Diomed", "Furniſh you fairly for this enterchange ;", "Withall bring word, if Heſtor will to morrow", "Be anſwer'd in his challenge. Ajax is ready.", "Dio. This ſhall I undertake, and 'tis a burthen\nWhich I am proud to beare. Exit.", "Enter Agamiles and Patroclus in their Tent.", "Vif. Agamiles stands the entrance of his Tent,\nPlease it our Generall to paffe ſtrangely by him.", "As if he were ſ forgot : and Princes all,", "Lay neſligent and loofe regard upon him ;", "I will come laſt, 'tis like hee'll queſtion me,", "Why ſuch unplaſuſive eyes are bent ? why turn'd on him ?\nIf ſo, I have deriſion medicinable,", "To uſe betweene your ſtrangelſſe and his pride,", "Which his owne will ſhall have deſire to drinke ;", "It may do good, pride hath no other glaſſe", "To ſhow it ſelſe, but pride: for ſuple knees,", "Feede arrogance, and are the proud mans fees.", "Agam. Weele execute your purpofe, and put on\nA forme of ſtrangelſſe as we paffe along,\nSo doe each Lord, and either greere him not,\nOr eſſe diſtainfully, which ſhall ſhake him more,\nThen if not lookt on. I will leade the way.", "Achil. What comes the Generall to ſpeake with me?\nYou know my minde, Ile fight no more 'gainst Troy.", "Aga. What ſayes Achilles, would he ought with us?", "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 does the Cuckold ſcorne me ?", "Ajax. How now Patroclus?", "Achil. Good morrow Ajax ?", "Ajax. Ha.", "Achil. Good morrow.", "Ajax. I, and good next day too.", "Execunt.", "Achil. What meane theſe fellowes ? know they not\nAchilles?", "Fatr. They paffe ſtrangely: they were us'd to bend,\nTo fend their ſmiles before them to Acaſilles :", "To come as humbly as they us'd to creepe to holy Altars.", "Achil. What am I poore of late?", "Tis certaine, greatneſſe once ſalne out with fortune,\nMuſt fall out with men too: what the declin'd is,\nHe ſhall as foone reade in the eyes of others,\nAs ſeele in his owne fall : for men like butter-flies,", "Shew not their meaſling wings, but to the Summer ;", "And not a man for being ſimple man,", "Hath any honor ; but honor'd by thofe honours", "That are without him ; as place, riches, favour,", "Prizes of accident, as oft as merit :", "Which when they fall (as being ſlippery ſtanders)", "The love that leand on them as ſlippery too,", "Doth on plucke downe another, and together", "Dye in the fall, But 'tis not ſo with me ;", "Fortune and I are friends, I doe enjoy", "At ample point all that I did poffeſſe,", "Save theſe mens lookes : who do me thinkes finde out", "Something not worth in me ſuch rich beholding,", "As they have often given. Here is Vifles,", "Ile interrupt his reading : how now Vifles?", "Vifl. Now great Theris Sonne.", "Achil. What are you reading ?", "Vilſ. A ſtrange fellow here", "Writes me, that man, how dearely ever parted,\nHow much in having, or without, or in,", "Caunot make boat to have that which he hath ;", "Nor feeles not what he owes, but by reflection :", "As when his vertues ſhining upon others,", "Heate them, and they retort that heate againe", "To the firſt giver.", "Achil. This is not ſtrange Vifles :", "The beautiſt that is borne here in the face.", "The bearer knowes not, but commends it ſelſe,", "Not going from it ſelſe : but eye to eye oppos'd,", "Salutes", "Salutes each\nFor ſpecuall\nTill it hath\nWhere it is", "Vilſ. I", "It is familiars", "Who in his\nThat no more", "(Though", "Till he con", "Nor doth", "Till he be", "Where the t", "The voice", "Fronting to", "His figure,", "And appro:", "The unknown", "Heavens we", "That has he", "Moff abje:", "What thin", "And poore", "Aaft that", "Ajac renc", "While foron", "How hom ſo", {"bbox": [1124, 648, 117

17

Salutes each other with each others forme.
For speculation turns not to it selfe,
Till it hath travail'd and is married there
Where it may see it selfe this is not fraigne at all.
Viz. I do not frame it at the poition,
It is familiar ; but at the Authors drift,
Who in his circumstance, expreſſe proves
That no man is the Lord of any thing,
(Though in and of him there is much conſiting.)
Till he communicate his parts to others:
Nor doth he of himselfe know them for ought,
Till he behold them formed in th' applaute,
Where they are extended: who like an arch reverb' rates
The voice againe ; or like a gate of ſteele,
Fronting the Sunne, receives and renders backe
His figure, and his heate. I was much rapt in this,
And apprehended here immediately
The unknowne *Ajax* ;

The unknowne *Ajax* : Heavens what a man is there ? a very Horſe, (are
That has he knowes not what Nature, what things there
Moft abject in regard, and deare in uſe.
What things againe moſt deere in the eſteme,
And poore in worth : now shall we ſee to morrow,
As aſt that very chance doth throw upon him ?

What things againe moſt deere in the eſteme,
And poore in worth : now shall we ſee to morrow,
As aſt that very chance doth throw upon him ?
*Ajax* renown'd ? O heavens, what ſome men doe,
While ſome men leave to doe 1
How ſome men creepe in skittifh fortunes haſt,
Whiles others play the Ideors in her eyes :
How one man eates into anthers pride,
While pride is feasting in his wantonneſt
To fee the ſeſe Grecian Lords ; why, even already,
They clap the lubber *Ajax* on the ſhoulder,
As if his ſoore were on brave *Hectors* breſt,
And great *Troy* shrinking.

*Achil.* I do believe it :

For they palt by me, as mifers doe by beggars,
Neither gave to me good word, nor good looke :
What are my deedes for got ?

*Vif.* Time hath (my Lord) a wallet at his backe,

Wherein he puts almes for obliuion :
A great ſie'd monſter of ingratitudes :
Thoſe ſeraps are good deedes palt,
Which are devour'd as ſalt as they are made,
Forgot as ſoon as done : perſeverance, deere my Lord,
Keepe his honour bright: to have done, is to hang
Quite out of ſtyle, like a rufſe male,
In monumentall mockrie : take the inflant way,
For honor travels in a fraight ſo narrow,
Where one but goes a breaſt, keepe then the path :
For emulation hath a thousand land Sonnes,
That one by one purſue ; if you give way,
Or hedge a ſide from the direct ſorth right :
Like to an entred Tyde, they all rufh by,
And leave you hindmoſt ;

Or like a gallant Horſe falne in firſt ranke,
Eye there for pavement to the abject, neere
Ore-run and trampled on: then what they doe in preſent,
Though leſſe then yours in palt, muſt ore-top yours :
For time is like a fashionable Horſe,
That flightly thakes his parting Guett by th' hand ;

And with his armes out-fretcht, as he would flye,
Graſſes in the commer : the welcome ever ſmiles,
And farewels goes out ſhiling : O let not vertue ſeeke
Remuneration for the thing it was : for beautie, wit,
High birth, vigor of bone, deſent in ſervice,
Love, friendship, charity, are ſubjects all

To envious and calumniating time :

One touch of nature makes the whole world kin :
That all with one confent prate new borne gaudes,
Though they are made and moulded of things palt,
And goe to daſt, that is a little gilt,
More laud then gilt orduſted.

The preſent eye prales the preſent object :

Then marveile not thou great and compleat man,
That all the Grecees begin to worſhip *Ajax* ;

Since things in motion 'gin to catch the eye,
Then what not ſurſ : the cry went out on thee,
And fill it might, and yet it may againe,
If thou wouldſt not entombe thy ſelfe alive,

And cafe thy reputation in thy Tent ;

Whofe glorious deedes, but in theſe fields of late,
Made emulous miffions 'mongſt the gods themſelves,
And drave great *Mars* to faction.

*Achil.* Of this my privacie,

I have ſtrong reaſons.

*Vif.* But 'gainſt your privacie.

The reaſons are more potent and heroycall :

'Tis knowne *Achilles*, that you are in love
With one of *Priams* daughters.

*Achil.* Ha ? knowne ?

*Vif.* Is that a wonder ?

The providence that's in a watchſull State,
Knowes almoſt every graine of Plutoes gold ;
Findes bottome in th' uncomprehenſive deepes ;
Keepes place with thought; and almoſt like the gods,
Does thoughts unvail in their dumbe cradles :

There is a myſterie (with whom relation
Durſt never meddle ) in the ſoule of ſtate ;
Which hath an operation more divine,
Then breath or pen can give expreſſure to :

All the commerce that you have had with *Troy*,
As perfectly is ours, as yours, my Lord.

And better would it ſit *Achilles* much,
To throw downe *Hector* then *Polixena*.

But it muſt grieve young *Pirrhue* now at home,
When fame ſhall in her land found her trumpe ;

And all the Greekifh Girles ſhall tripping ſing,
Great *Hectors* filter did *Achilles* winne ;

But our great *Ajax* bravely beate downe him.

Farewell my Lord : I as your lover ſpeake ;

The ſoole flides ore the Ice that you ſhould breake.

*Parr.* To this effect *Achilles* have I mov'd you;

A woman impudent and mannifh growne,
Is not more loth'd, then an effeminate man,

In time of action : I ſtand condemn'd for this ;

They thinke my little ſtomacke to the warre.

And your great love to me, reſtraines you thus :

Sweetes, rouſe your ſelfe ; and the weake wanton *Cupid*
Shall from your necke unloofe his amorous ſould,
And like a dew-drop from the Lyons mane,

Be ſhooke to ayrie ayre.

*Achil.* Shall *Ajax* fight with *Hector*?

*Parr.* I, and perhaps receive much honor by him.

*Achil.* I fee my reputation is at ſtake,

My fame is ſhrewdly gored.

*Parr.* O then beware :

Thoſe wounds heale ill, that men doe give themſelves :
Omiſsion to doe what is neceſſary,

Sealesa commiffion to a blanke of danger,

And danger like an ague ſubtly taints

Even then when we fit idely in the ſunne.

*Achil.* Goe call *Therpes* nither ſweet *Patroclus*,

bb 3

Ile

18

The Tragedy of Troylus and Creſiда.

He fend the fool to *Ajax*, and defire him
T' invite the Troyan Lords after the Combat
To fee us here unarm'd: I have a womans longing,
An appetite that I am fice withall,
To fee great *Hełtor* in the weedes of peace; Enter *Therſi*.
To talke with him, and to behold his viſage,
Even to my full of view. A labour-fav'd.

*Ther.* A wonder.

*Achil.* What?

*Ther.* *Ajax* goes up and downe the field, asking for
himſelfe.

*Achil.* How fo ?

*Ther.* Hee muſt fight ſingly to morrow with *Hełtor*,
and is ſo prophetically proud of an heroical cudgelling,
that he raves in ſaying nothing.

*Achil.* How can that be?

*Ther.* Why he ſtalkes up and downe like a Peacock, a
ſtride and a ſtand: ruminaſes like an hoſſe, that hath no
Arithmetique but her braine to ſet downe her recko-
ning: bites his lip with a politique regard, as who ſhould
ſay, there were wit in his head and twoo'd out; and ſo
there is: but it lyes as coldly in him, as fire in a ſlint,
which will not ſhew without knocking. The mans un-
done for ever; for if *Hełtor* breake not his necke i'th'
combat, heele break't himſelfe in vaine-glory. Hee
knowes not me: I faid, good morrow *Ajax*; And hee
replies, thanks *Agamemnon*. What thinke you of this
man, that takes me for the Generall? Hee's growne a
very land-ſiſh, languageleſſe, a monſter : a plague of
opinion, a man may weare it on both ſides like a leather
Ierkin.

*Achil.* Thou muſt be my Ambaſſador to him *Therſi*es.

*Ther.* Who, I: why, heele anſwer no body: he pro-
ſeſſes not anſwering; Ipeaking is for beggers: he weares
his tongue in's armes: I will put on his prefence; let Pa-
troclus make his demands to me, you ſhall fee the Page-
ant of *Ajax*.

*Achil.* To him *Patroclus*, tell him, I humbly defire the valiant *Ajax*, to invite the moſt valorous *Hełtor*, to come unarm'd to my Tent, and to procure ſafe conduct for his perſon, of the magnanimous and moſt illuſtrious, ſixe or Seaven times honour'd Captaine, Generall of the Grecian Armie *Agamemnon*, &c. doe this.

*Patro.* Iove bleſſe great *Ajax*.

*Ther.* Hum.

*Patr.* I come ſom the worthy *Achilles*.

*Ther.* Ha ?

*Patr.* Who moſt humbly defires you to invite *Hełtor* 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 eleven 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 with all 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 when *Hełtor* has knockt ont his braines, I know
not: but I am ſure none, unleſſe 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 doore Æneas with a Torch, at another
Paris, Deiphobus, Anthenor, Diomed the
Grecian, with Torches.

*Patr.* See hoa, who is that there?

*Deiph.* It is the Lord Æneas.

*Aene.* Is the Prince there in perſon ?
Had I ſo good occafion to lye long
As you Prince *Paris*, nothing but heavenly buſineſſe,
Should rob my bed-mate of my company.

*Diom.* That's my minde too: good morrow Lord Æneas.

*Par.* A valiant Greeke Æneas, take his hand,
Witneſſe the proceſſe of your ſpeech within :
You told how Diomed, in a whole weeke by dayes
Did haunt you in the Field.

*Aene.* Health to you valiant fir ;

During all quæſtion of the gentle truce :
But when I meete you arm'd, as blacke defiance,
As heart can thinke, or courage execute.

*Diom.* The one and other Diomed embraces,
Our blouds are now in calme ; and ſo long health :
But when contention, and occafion meete,
By Iove, Ile play the hunter for thy life,
With all my force, purſuite and pollicy.

*Aene.* And thou ſhalt hunt a Lyon that will flye
With his face backward, in humaine gentlenefſe :
Welcome to Troy ; now by *Achilles* life,
Welcome indeede: by *Venus* hand I ſweare,
No man alive can love in ſuch a ſort,
The thing he meanes to kill, more excellently.

*Diom.* We ſimpathize. Iove let Æneas live
(If to my ſword his fate be not the glory)
A thouſand compleat courſes of the Sunne,
But in mine emulous honor let him dye :
With every joynt a wound, and that to morrow.

*Aene.* We know each other well.

*Dio.* We doe, and long to know each other worſe.

*Par.* This is the moſt, deſpightfulſt gentle greeting;
The nobleft hatefull love, that ere I heard of.

*What buſineſſe Lord ſo early ?*

*Aene.* I was ſent for to the King; but why, I know not.
*Par.* His purpofe meets you; it was to bring this Greek
To Calcha's houſe: and there to render him,
For the enfreed Anthenor, the faire Crefrid:
Lets have your company ; or if you pleafe,
Haſte there before us, I conſantly doe thinke
(Or rather call my thought a certaine knowledge)
My brother Troylus lodges there to night.
Rouſe him, and give him note of our approach,
With the whole quality whereof, I ſeaue
We ſhall be much unwelcome.

*Aene.* That I affure you:
Troylus had rather Troy were borne to Greece,
Then Crefrid borne from Troy.

*Par.* There

The Tragedy of Troylus and Creſſida.

19

Par. There is no helpe:
The bitter diſposition of the time will have it ſo
On Lord, weele follow you.

Ane. Good morrow all.

Exit Aeneas

Par. And tell me noble Diomed; faith tell me true,
Even in the foule of found good fellowship,
Who in your thoughts merits faire Helen moſt?
My ſelfe, or Menelans?

Dum. Both alike.

He merits well to have her, that doth feeke her,
Not making any ſeruple of her foylure,

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 ſoffe of wealth and friends ſ
Helike a puling Cuckold, would drinke up

The lees and dregs of a flat tamed peece :

You like a lether, out of whorilof loynes,

Are pleat'd to breed out your inheritors :

Both merits poyz'd, each weighs no leſſe nor more,
But he as he, which heavier for a whole.

Par. You are too bitter to your country-woman.

Di. Shee's bitter to her country: hear me Paris,
For every ſalſe drop in her baudy veines,

A Grecians life hath ſunke : for every ſeruple
Of her contaminated carrion weight,

A Trojan hath beene flaine. Since he could ſpeake,
She hath not given ſo many good words breath,
As for her Greekes and Trojans ſuſſred death.

Par. Faire Diomed, you doe as chapmen doe,
Difpraife the thing that you defire to buy :

But we in ſilence hold this vertue well ;

Wee not commend, what we intend to fell.

Here lies our way.

Exeunt.

Enter Troylus and Creſſida.

Troy. Deere, trouble not your ſelfe: the morne is cold.
Creſ. Then fweet my Lord, Ile call my Vnckle down;
He hall unbolt the Gates.

Troy. Trouble him not :

Tobed, to bed : ſleepe kill thofe pretty eyes,
And give as soft attachment to thy fences,

As Infants empty of all thoughts.

Creſ. Good morrow then.

Troy. Iprithee now to bed.

Creſ. Are you a weary of me ?

Troy. O Creſſida! but that the bufie day
Wak't by the Larke, hath rouz'd the ribald Crowes,
And dreaming night will hide our eyes no longer :
I would not from thee.

Creſ. Night hath beene too briefe.

(layes,

Troy. Behrew the witch ! with venemous wights ſhe
As hidliouſly as hell; bnt flies the grafpes of love,
With wings more momentary, ſwifter then thought :
You will catch colde and curle me.

Creſ. Prithee tarry, you men will never tarry ;

O foolish Creſſid, I might have still held off,

And then you would have tarried. Hearke ther's one up.

Pand. within. What's all the doores open here ?

Troy. It is your Vnckle.

Enter Pandarus.

Creſ. A peſtience on him : now will he be mocking:
I hall have ſuch a life

Pan. How now, how now? how goe maiden-heads ?
Heare you Maide : wher's my cozin Creſſid ?

Creſ. Go hang your ſelf, you naughty mocking Vnckle:

You bring me to doe—and then you floute me too.

Pan. To do what ? to do what ? let her fay what :

What have I brought you to doe?

Creſ. Come, come, beſhrew your heart : youlere be good, nor ſuffer others.

Pan. Ha, ha : alas poore wretch : a poore Chipochia, haſt not flept to night ? would he not (a naughty man) let it fleepe : a bug-beare take him.

One knocks.

Creſ. Did not I tellyou? would he were knockt ith' head. Who's that at doore ? good Vnckle goe and fee.

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 deceiv'd, I thinke of no ſuch thing.
How earneſtly they knocke: pray you come in. Knocke.
I would not for halſe Troy have you ſeene here. Exeunt.

Pan. Who's there? what's the matter? will you beate downe the doore? How now, what's the matter?

Ane. Good morrow Lord, good morrow.

Pan. Who's there, my Lord Æneas ? by my troth I
know you not : what newes with you ſo early ?

Ane. Is not Prince Troylus here ?

Pan. Here? what ſhould he doe here ?

Ane. Come he is here, my Lord, doe not deny him :
It doth import him much to ſpeake with me.

Pan. Is he here fay you ? 'tis more than I know, Ile be
fworne : For my owne part I came in late : what ſhould
he doe here ?

Æne. Who, nay then : Come, come, youle doe him
wrong, ere y're ware : youle be ſo true to him, to bee
ſalſe to him : Doe not you know of him, but yet goe fetch
him hither, goe.

Enter Troylus.

Troy. How now, what's the matter ?

Ane. My Lord, I feare have leifure to ſalute you,
My matter is ſo raſh : there is at hand,

Paris your brother, and Deispebus,

The Grecian Diomed, and our Anthenor

Deliver'd to us, and for him forth-with,

Ere the firſt ſacrifice, within this houre,

We muſt give up to Diomedes hand

The Lady Creſſida.

Troy. Is it concluded ſo ?

Ane. By Priams, an the generall ſtate of Troy,
They are at hand, and ready to affect it,

Troy. How may atchievements mocke me ;
I will goe meete them : and my Lord Æneas,

We met by chance : you did not find me here.

Ane. Good, good, my Lord, the ſecrets of nature
Have not more gift in taciturnity.

Exeunt.

Enter Pandarus and Creſſida.

Pan. Is't poſſible? no sooner got but loft : the divell
take Anthenor ; the yong Prince will goe mad : a plague
upon Anthenor ; I would they had brok's necke.

Creſ. How now ? what's the matter ? who was heere?

Pan. Ah, ha !

Creſ. Why ſigh you ſo profoundly ? where's my Lord?
gone ? tell me fweet Vnckle, what's the matter ?

Pan. Would I were as deepe under the earth as I am
above.

Creſ. O the gods ! what's the matter ?

Pan. Prethee get thee in : would thou hadt ne're been
borne; I knew thou would'ſt be his death. O poore Gentleman : a plague upon Anthenor.

Creſ.

Cref. Good Vnckle I beſeech you, on my knees, I be-
ſeech you what's the matter ?

Pan. Thou muſt be gone wench, thou muſt be gone;
thou art chang'd for Anthenor: thou muſt to thy Father,
and be gone from Troylus: 'twill be his death: 'twill be
his baine, he cannot beare it.

Cref. O you immortall gods ! I will not goe.

Pan, Thou muſt.

Cref. I will not Vnckle : I have forgot my Father:
I know no touch of confanguinitie:
No kin, no love, no bloud, no foule, so neere me,
As the ſweet Troylus : O you gods divine !
Make Creſſids name the very crowne of falſhood !
If ever ſhe leave Troylus : time, and death,
Doto this body what extremite you can ;
But the ſtrong bafe and building of my love,
Is as the very Center of the earth,
Drawing all things to it. I will goe in and weepe.

Pan. Doe, doe.

Cref. Teare my bright haire, and ſcratch my praſed
cheekes,
Cracke my cleere voyce with fobs, and breake my heart
With founding Troylus. I will not goe from Troy. Exennt.

Enter Paris, Troylus, Eneas, Deiphobus, An-
thenor and Diomedes.

Par. It is great morning, and the houre prefixt
Of her deliverie to this valiant Greeke
Comes faſt upon : good my brother Troylus,
Tell you the Lady what ſhe is to doe,
And haſt her to the purpofe.

Troy. Walke in to her houſe:
Ile bring her to the Grecian prefently ;
And to his hand, when I deliver her,
Thinke it an Altar, and thy brother Troylus
A Prieſt, there offering to it his heart.

Par. I know what 'tis to love,
And would, as I haſt pitty, I could helpe.
Please you walke in, my Lords.

Exeunt.

Enter Pandarus and Crefid.

Pan. Be moderate, be moderate.

Cref. Why tell you me of moderation ?
The griefe is fine, full perfect that I tafe,
And no leſſe in a ſene as ſtrong
As that which cauſeth it. How can I moderate it ?
If I could temporife with my affection,
Or brew it to a weake and colder pallat,
The like alaiment could I give my griefe :

My love admits no qualifying croſſe:
No more my griefe, in ſuch a precious loffe.
Pan. Here, here, here, he comes, a ſweet duc.
Cref. O Troylus, T. ojus !

Pan. What a paire of ſpectacles is here ? let me em-
brace too: oh heart, as the goodly ſaying is; O heart, hea-
vie heart, why ſitteſt thou without breaking ? where he
anſwers againe ; becauſe thou canſt not caſe thy ſmart by
friendſhip, nor by ſpeaking: there was never a truer rime;
let us caſt away nothing, for we may live to have neede
of ſuch a Verſe : we ſee it, we ſee it: how now Lambs ?

Troy. Crefid: I love thee in ſo ſtrange a puritie;
That the bleſt gods, as angry with my ſancie,
More bright in zeale, then the devotion which
Cold lips blow to their Deities : take thee from me.

Cref. Have the gods envie ?

Pan. I, I, I, I, 'tis too plaine a caſe.

Cref. And is it true, that I muſt goe from Troy ?
Troy. A hatefull truth.

Cref. What, and from Troylus too ?
Troy. From Troy, and Troylus.

Cref. Iſt poffible ?
Troy. And ſodainely, where injurie of chance

Puts backe leave-taking, juſtles roughly by
All time of paſſe ; rudely beguiles our lips
Of all rejoyndure : forcibly prevents
Our lockt embraſures ; ſtranges our decre vowes,
Even in the birth of our owne laboring breath.
We two that with ſo many thonſand ſighes
Did buy each other, muſt poorly ſell our ſelves,
With the rude brevitie and diſcharge of our
Injurious time ; now with a robbers haſte
Crams his rich theeverie up, he knowes not how.
As many farewels as be flars in heaven,
With diſtinet breath, and confign'd killes to them,
He fumbles up a looſe adiew :

And ſcants us with a ſingle famiſht kife,
Dilſtailing with the ſalt of broken teares, Enter Eneas.

Eneas withsip. My Lord, is the Lady ready ?

Troy. Heareke, you are cal'd : ſome ſay the genius ſo
Cries, come to him that inflatantly muſt dye.

Bid them have patience : ſhe ſhall come anon.

Pan. Where are my teares? raine, to lay this winde,
or my heart will be blowne up by the root.

Cref. I muſt then to the Grecians?

Troy. No remedy.

Cref. A woſull Crefid 'mong'ſt the merry Greekees.
Troy, When ſhall we ſee againe ?

Heare me my love : be thou but true of heart.

Cref. I true? how now? what wicked deeme is this?
Troy. Nay, we muſt uſe expoſtulation kindly,

For it is parting from us :

I ſpeake not, be thou true, as fearing thee :
For I will throw my Glove to death himselfe,
That there's no maculation in thy heart :
But be thou true, ſay I, to ſashion in
My ſequent proſeſtation : be thou true,

And I will ſee thee.

Cref. O you ſhall be expoſ'd, my Lord to dangers
As infinite, as imminent : but I be true.

Troy. And Ile grow friend with danger ;
Weare this Sleeve.

Cref. And you this Glove.
When ſhall I ſee you?

Troy. I will corrupt the Grecian Centinels,
To give the nightly visitation.
But yet be true.

Cref. O heavens : be true againe ?

Troy. Heare why I ſpeake it; Love :
The Grecian youths are full of qualitie,
Their loving well compo'd, with guif of nature,
Flowing and ſwellung ore with Arts and exercife :
How novelties may move, and parts with perſon.
Alas, a kinde of godly jealouſe ;
Which I beſeech you call a vertuous ſinne :

Makes me affraid.

Cref. O heauen, you loue me not!

Troy. Dye I a villaine then :
In this I doe not call your faith in queſtion
So mainly as my merit : I cannot ſing,
Nor heele the high Lavolt : nor ſweeten talke :
Nor play at ſubtill games ; faire vertues all;

To

21

To which the Grecians are most prompt and pregnant :

But I can tell that in each grace of these,
There lurkes a still and dumb-difcourfive divell,
That tempts most cunningly : but be not tempted.

Cref. Do not thinke I will :

Troy.No, but fomething may be done that we will not:
And fometimes we are divels to our felves,
When we wil tempt the frailtie of our powers,
Prefliming on their changefull potencie,

Eneas within. Nay, good my Lord ?

Troy. Come kiffe, and let us part.

Paris within. Brother Troylus ?

Troy. Good brother come you hither,

And bring Eneas and the Grecian with you.

Cref. My Lord, will you be true ?

Troy. Who I ? alas it is my vice, my fault :

Whiles other fish with craft for great opinion,
I, with great truth, catch meere fimplicity ;

Whil it fome with cunning guild their copper crownes,
With truth and plainne ffe I doe weare mine bare.

Exit.

Enter the Greekes.

Fare 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 Antener, we deliver you.

At the port (Lord) He give her to thy hand,
And by the way poſſeſſe thee what ſhe is.

Entreate your faire; and by my foule, faire Greece,
Ifere thou ſtand at mercy of my Sword,
Name Crefid, and thy life ſhall be as ſafe

As Priam is in Iliion ?

Dion. Faire Lady Crefsid,

Sopleafle you, favethe thankes this Prince expects :
The luſtref your eye, heaven in your cheeke,
Pleades your faire viſage, and to Diomed
You ſhall be miltreſſe, and command him wholly.

Troy. Grecian, thou doſt not uſe me courteously,
To fame the ſeale of my petition towards,
I prafing her. I tell thee Lord of Greece :

She is as farre high foaring o're thy prafes,
As thou unworthy to be cal'd her ſervant :

I charge thee uſe her well, even for my charge :
For by the dreadfull Plute, if thou doſt not,
(Though the great bulke Achilles be thy guard)
Ile cut thy throat.

Dion. Oh be not mov'd Prince Troylus ;

Let me be priviled'd by my place and meſſage,
Tobe a ſparker 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 ſpake it in my ſpirit and honor, no.

Troy. Come to the Port. Ile tell thee Diomed,

This brave, ſhall oft make thee to hide thy head :
Lady, give me your hand, and as we walke,
To our owne ſelves bend we our neecdeful talke.

Sound Trumpet.

Par. Harke, Heſtors Trumpet.

Ene. How have we ſpene this morning,
The Prince muſt thinke me tardy and remitſe,
That ſwore to ride before him in the field.

Par. 'Tis Troylus fault: come, come, to field with him.

Exeunt.

Dio. Let us make ready ſtraight.

Ene. Yea, with a bridegroomes fresh alacritie

Let us addreſſe to tend on Heſtors heeles :
The glory of our Troy doth this day lye
On his faire worth, and ſingle Chivalry.

Enter Ajax armed, Achilles, Patroclus, Agamemnon,
Menelaus, Uliffes, Nestor, Calea, &c.

Aga. Here art thou in appointment fresh and faire
Anticipating time. With starting courage,
Give with thy Trumpet alowd note to Troy
Thou dreadfull Ajax, that the appalled aire
May pierce the head of the great Combatant,
And hale him hither.

Aja. Thou, Trumpet, ther's my purſe ;

Now cracke thy lungs and ſplit thy braſen pipe :

Blow villaine, till thy ſphered Bias cheeke
Out: ſwell the collicke of puſt Aquilon :

Come, ſtretch thy cheſt, and let thy eyes ſpout blond :

Thou bloweſt for Heſtor.

Ulif. No Trumpet anſwers.

Achil. 'Tis but early dayes,

Enter Dio. Cref.

Aga. Is not young Diomed with Caleas daughter ?

Ulif. 'Tis he, I ken the manner of his gate,

He rilſes 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, ſweete
Lady.

Neſt. Our Generall doth ſalute you with a kiffe.

Ulif. Yet is your kindeneſſe but particular; 'twere bet-
ter ſhe were kift in general.

Neſt. And very courtly counſell: Ile begin. So much
for Nestor.

Achil. Ile take that winter from you 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.

Ulif. Oh deadly gall, and theame of all our ſcornes,

For which we loole our heads, to gild his hornes.

Patro. The firſt was Menelaus kiffe, this mine :

Patroclus kiffes you.

Mene. Oh this is trim.

Patr. Paris and I kiffe evermore for him.

Mene. Ile have my kiffe fir: Lady by your leave.

Cref. In killing doe you render, or receive.

Patr. Both take and give.

Cref. Ile make my match to live,

The kiffe you take is better then you give: therefore no
kiffe.

Mene. Ile give you boote, Ile give you three for one.

Cref. You are an odde man, give even, or give none.

Mene. An odde man Lady, every man is odde.

Cref. No, Paris is not; for you know 'tis true,

That you are odde, and he is even with you.

Mene. You fillip me a'ch' head.

Cref. No, Ile be ſworne.

Ulif. It were no match, your naile againſt his horne :

May I fweet Lady beg a kiffe of you ?

Cref. You may.

Ulif. I doe defire it.

Cref. Why begge then ?

Ulif. Why then for Venus ſake, give me a kiffe :

When Hellen is a maid againe, and his—

Cref. I am your debtor, claire it when 'tis due.

Ulif. Never's

22

Vlys. Never's my day, and then a kiffle of you.
Diom. Lady a word, Ile bring you to your Father.
Nest. A woman of quicke fence.
Vlys. Fie, fie, upon her:
Ther's language in her eye, her cheeke, her lip;
Nay, her foote speakes, her wanton (pirites looke out
At every joynt, and motive of her body:
Oh thefe encounters fo glib of tongue,
That give a coafting welcome ere it comes ;
And wide unclape the tables of their thoughts,
To every tickling reader : fet them downe,
For fluttifh (poyles of opportunitie ;
And daughters of the game.
Exeunt.
Enter all of Troy, Hector, Paris, Aneas, Helens,
and Attendants.

All. The Troians Trumpet.
Aga. Yonder comes the troop.
Ane. Haile all you itate of Greece: what shall be done
To him that victorie commands ? or dee you purpofe,
A victor shall be knowne: will you the Knights
Shall to the edge of all extremiteie
Purfue each other; or ſhall be devided
By any voice, or order of the field: Heſtor bad aske ?
Aga. Which way would Heſtor have it ?

Ane. He cares not, hee'le obey conditions.
Aga. 'Tis done like Heſtor, but fecurely done,
A little proudly, and great deale diſprifing
The Knight oppos'd.

Ane. If not Achilles fir, what is your name?

Achil. If not Achilles, nothing.

Ane. Therefore Achilles: but what ere, know this,
In the extremity of great and little:
Valour and pride excell themfelves in Heſtor;
The one almoſt as infinite as all;
The other blanke as nothing: weigh him well:
And that which looks like pride, is curſeſe :

This Ajax is halfe made of Heſtors bloud,

In love whereof, halfe Heſtor ſtayes at home :

Halfe heart, halfe hand, halſe Heſtor, comes to feefe

This blended Knight, halſe Trojan, and halſe Greeke.

Achil. A maiden battaille then ? O I perceive you.

Aga. Here is fir, Diomed : goe gentle Knight,
Stand by our Ajax : as you and Lord Aneas

Conſent upon the order of their fight,
So be it; either to the uttermoft,
Or eſſe a breach : the Combatants being kin,
Halſe flints their fire, before their ſtrokes begin.

Vlys. They are oppos'd already,

Aga. What Trojan is that fame that looks ſo heavy ?

Vlys. They youngſeft Sonne of Priam;
And a true Knight; they call him Troylus ;
Not yet mature, yet matchleſſe, firme of word,
Speaking in deedes, and deedeleſſe in his tongue ;

Not ſoone provok't, nor being provok't, ſoone calm'd;
His heart and hand both open, and both free
For what he has, he gives; what thinkes, he ſhewes;
Yet gives he not till judgement guide his bounty,
Nor dignifies an impaire thought with breath :

Manly as Heſtor, but more dangerous ;

For Heſtor in his blaze of wrath ſubſcribes

To tender objeſts; but he, in heate of action

Is more vindicative then jealous love.

They call him Troylus ; and on him ereſt,

A ſecond hope, as fairely built as Heſtor.

Thus faies Aneas, one that knowes the youth,

Even to his inches : and with private foule,

Did in great Illion thus tranflate him to me.

Alarum.

Aga. They are in action.

Nest. Now Ajax hold thine owne.

Troy. Heſtor, thou ſleep't, awake thee.

Aga. His blowes are wel diſpos'd there Ajax, trüpers

Diom. You muſt no more.

Ane. Princes enough, ſo pleafe you.

Aja. I am not warme yet, let us fight againe.

Diom. As Heſtor pleales.

Heſt. Why then will I no more :

Thou art great Lord, my Fathers fifters Sonne ;

A couſen german to great Priams feede :

The obligation of our bloud forbids

A gorie emulation 'twixt us twaine :

Were thy commixtion, Greeke and Trojan ſo,

That thou could't ſay, this hand is Grecianall,

And this is Trojan : the finewes of this Legge,

All Greeke, and this all Troy : my Mothers bloud

Runs on the dexter cheeke, and this finifter

Bounds in my fathers: by Iove multipotent,

Thou should't not beare from me a Greekifh member

Wherein my ſword had not impreflure made

Of our ranke feud : but the juſt gods gainſay,

That any drop thou borrw'd ſt from thy mother,

My ſacred Aunt, should by my mortall Sword

Be drained. Let me embrace thee Ajax :

By him that thunders, thou haſt luſy arms ;

Heſtor would have them fall upon him thus,

Cozen, all honor to thee . .

Aja. I thankee Heſtor :

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.

Heſt. Not Neoprolemus ſo mirable,

On whose bright creſt, fame with her lowd'ft (O yes)

Cries, This is he ; could promife to himſelfe,

A thought of added honor, torne from Heſtor.

Ane. There is expectance here from both the ſides,

What further you will doe ?

Heſt. Wee'le anſwere it :

The iſſue is embracement : Ajax, farewell,
Ajax. If I might in entreaties ſinde ſucſeſſe,

As ſeld I have the chance; I would define

My famous Couſin to our Grecian Tents.

Diom. 'Tis Agamemnon with, and great Achilles

Doth long to fee unarm'd the valiant Hector.

Hec. Aneas, call my brother Troylus to me :
And ſignifie this loving enterview

To the expeſors of our Trojan part:
Defire them home. Give me thy hand, my Couſin:

I will goe eate with thee, and fee your Knights.

Enter Agamemnon and the reſt.

Aja. Great Agamemnon comes to meete us here.

Hec. The worthiſt of them, tell me name by name :

But for Achilles, mine owne ferching eyes

Shall finde him by his large and porſly ſize.

Aga. Worthy of Armes : as welcome as to one,
That would be rid of ſuch an enemy.

But that's no welcome : understand more cleere

What's paſt and what's to come, is ſrew'd with huskes

And formeſſe ruine of obliuion :

But in this extant moment, faith and troth,

Strain'd purely from all hollow bias drawing :

Bids thee with moſt divine integritie,

From heart of very heart, great Hector, welcome.

Hec. I thankee thee moſt imperious Agamemnon.

Aga. My

Aga. My well-fam'd Lord of Troy, no leſſe to you.
Men. Let me confirme my Princely brothers greeting,
You brace of warlike brothers, welcome hither:
Heu. Whom muſt we anſwer?
Ent. The Noble Menelaus.
Heu. O you my Lord, by Mars his gauntlet thanks,
Mocke not, that I affect th' untraded Oath,
Your guondam wife (ſwares fill by Venus Glove
Shee's well, but bad me not commend her to you,
Men.Name her not now fir, ſhe's a deadly Theame:
Heu. O pardon, I offend.
Neſſ. I have (thou gallant Troyan) ſeenethoe oft
Labouring for deftiny, make cruell way
Through rankes of Greekis height: and I have ſeen thee
As hot as Perſous, ſpurre thy Phrygian Steed,
And ſeenethecorning ſorfeits and ſubduments,
When thou haſt hung thy advanced ſword i'th' ayre,
Notletting it decline on the declined:
That I have (aid unto my ſlanders by,
Loe Iupiter is yonder, dealing life.
And I have ſeenethcethe paſſe, and take thy breath,
When that a ring of Greekes have hem'd thee in,
Like an Olympian wrestling. This have I ſeeneth,
But this thy countenance (ſtill lockt in ſteele)
I never ſaw till now. I knew thy Grandſire,
And once fought with him; he was a Souldier good,
But by great Mars (the captaine of us all),
Never like thee. Let an old man embrace thee,
And (worthy Warrior) welcome to our Tents.
Ane. Tis the old Neſſor.

Buc. Let me embrace thee good old Chronicle,
That haſt long walk'd hand in hand with time:
Moft reverend Neſſor, I am glad to clafpe thee:
Ne. I would my armes could match thee in contention
as they contend with thee in courteſe.
Heu. I would they could.
Neſſ. Ha ? by this white beard I'd fight with thee to
morrow. Well, welcomewelcome : I have ſeen the time.
Ouſ. I wonder now, how yonder City ſlands,
When we have here her Bafe and pillar by us.
Heu. I know your favour Lord Vylſes well.
Ah fir, there's many a Greekee and Troyan dead;
Since firft I ſaw your ſelſe, and Diomed
In ſilion, on your Greekis Embaſſe.

Vylſ. Sir, I foretold you then what would enfue,
My propheſis is but halde his journey yet;
For yonder wals that partly front your towne,
Yond Towers, whoſe wanton tops do buffer the clouds,
Moft kiffe their owne feet.
Heu. I muſt not beleeve you :

There they ſtand yet: and modeſtly I thinke,
The fall of every Prynſian ſtone will coſt
A drop of Grecian blood: the end crownes all,
And that old common Arbitrator, Time,
Will one day end it.
Vylſ. Soto him we leave it.
Moft gentle, and moſt valiant Hector, welcome ;
After the Generall, I beſeech you next
To ſeafe with me, and ſee me at my Tent.

Achil. I ſhaſt foreſtall thee Lord Vylſes, thou :
Now Hector I have ſed mine eyes on thee,
I have with exaſt view perus'd thee Hector,
And quoted joynt by joynt.

Heu. Is this Achilles?
Achil. I am Achilles.
Heu. Stand faire I prythee, let me looke on thee.

Heu. Is this Achilles?

Achil. I am Achilles.

Achil. Behold thy fill.

Heu. Nay, I have done already.

Achil. Thou are too breeſe, I will the ſecond time,
As I would buy thee, view thee, limbe by limbe.

Heu. O like a booke of ſport thou'lt reade me ore :
But there's more in me then thou underſtand'd ſt.
Why doſt thou ſo oppreſſe me with thine eye?

Achil. Tell me you Heavens, in which part of his body
Shall I deſtroy him ? Whether there, or there, or there,
That I may give the locall wound a name,
And make diſtinet the very breach, where-out
Hectors great ſpirit ſlew. Anſwer me heavens.

Heu. It would diſcredit the bleft gods, proud man,
To anſwer ſuch a question: Stand againe :
Think'ſt thou to catch my life ſo pleasantly,
As to prenominate in nice conjecture
Where thou wilt hit me dead?

Achil. I tell thee yea.

Heu. Wert thou the Oracle to tell me ſo,
I'd not beleeve thee : henceforth guard thee well,
For Ile not kill thee there, nor there, nor there,
But by the forge that flythied Mars his helme,
Ile kill thee every where, yea, ore and ore.
You wifed Grecians, pardon me this bragge,
His infolence drawes folly from my lips,
But Ile endeavour deeds to match theſe words,
Or may I never

Aiax. Do not chafe thee Cofin :
And you Achilles, let theſe threats alone
Till accident, or purpofe bring you too't.
You may have every day enough of Hector
If you have ſtomacke. The generall flate I ſeare,
Can ſearſe intreat you to be odde with him.

Heu. I pray you let us ſee you in the field,
We have had pelting Warres ſince you reſus'd
The Grecians cauſe.

Achil. Doſt thou intreat me Hector?
To morrow do I meete thee ſell as death,
To night, all Friends.

Heu. Thy hands upon that match.
Aga. Firſt, all you Peeres of Greece go to my Tent,
There in the full convive you : Afterwards,
As Hectors leaſure, and your bounties ſhall
Concurre together, feverally intreat him.
Beate lowd the Taborines, let the Trumpets blow.

That this great Souldier may his welcome know. Exeunt.

Troy. My Lord Vylſes, tell me I beſeech you,
In what place of the Field doth Calcas keepe ?

Vylſ. At Menelaus Tent, moſt princely Troylus,
There Diomed doth ſeafe with him to night,
Who neither looks on heaven, nor on earth,
But gives all gaze and bent of aμorous view
On the faire Creſſid.

Troy. Shall I (weet Lord) be bound to thee ſo much,
After we part from Agamemmons Tent,
To bring me thither?

Vylſ. You ſhall command me fir :
As gentle tell me, of what Honour was
This Creſſida in Troy, had ſhe e no Lover there
That walles her abſence ?

Troy. O fir, to ſuch as boaſting ſhew their ſcarres,
A mocke is due: will you walke on my Lord ?
She was belov'd, ſhe lov'd; ſhe is, and dooth.
But ſtill ſweet Love is food for Fortunes tooth. Extunt.
Enter Acilles, and Pártroclus.

Achil. Ile heat his blood with Greekisſh wine to night,
Which

["Troylus and Crefida.", "24", "Which with my Semitar lle coole to morrow :", "*Patroclus*, let us Feaſt him to the hight.", "*Pat.* Heree comes *Therites*.\n*Enter Therites.*", "*Achil.* How now, thou core of Envy ?", "Thou cruſt batch of Nature, what's the newes ?", "*Ther.* Why thou picture of what thou feem'st, & Idol of Ideot-worſhippers, here's a Letter for thee.", "*Achil.* From whence, Fragment ?", "*Tber.* Why thou full diſh of Foole, from Troy.", "*Pat.* Who keepeſ the Tent now ?", "*Ther.* The Surgeons box, or the patients wound.", "*Parr.* Well faid adverſity, and what need theſe tricks?", "*Ther.* Prythee be ſilent boy, I profit not by thy talke,\nthou art thought to be *Achilles* male Varlot.", "*Patro.* Male Varlot you Rogue ? What's that ?", "*Ther.* Why his maſculine Whore. Now the rotten diſeafeſ of the South, guts-griping Ruptures, Catarres, Loades a gravell i'th' backs, Lethargies, cold Palfies, and the like, take and take againe, ſuch prepoſterous diſcoveries.", "*Pat.* Why thou damnable box of envy thou, what mean't thou to curſe thus ?", "*Ther.* Do I curſe thee ?", "*Parr.* Why no, you ruinous But, you whorſon indiſtinguſhable Curre.", "*Ther.* No ? why art thou then exaſperate, thou idle, immaterial ſkine of Sleyd filke; thou greene Sarcenet flap for a ſore eye, thou toſſell of a Prodigals purſe thou: Ah how the poore world is peſtred with ſuch water-flies, diminutives of Nature.", "*Pat.* Out gall.", "*Tber.* Finch Egge.", "*Ach.* My ſweet *Patroclus*, I am th' warted quite\nFrom my great purpofe in to morrowes battell :", "Heere is a Letter from Queene Hecuba,\nA token from her daughſter, my faire Love,\nBoth taxing me, and gaging me to keepe\nAn Oath that I have ſworne. I will not breake it,\nFall Greeke, faile Fame, Honor or go, or ſlay,\nMy maior vow lyes heere; this Ile obay:\nCome, come *Therites*, helpe to trim my Tent,\nThis night in banqueting muſt all be ſpent.", "*Away Patroclus.* Exit.\n\n*Ther.* With to much blond, and too little Brain, theſe 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 loves Quailes, but he has not ſo much Braine as care-wax; and the goodly transformation of Jupiter there his Brother, the Bull, the primitive Statue, and oblique memorialall of Cuckolds, a thrifty ſhooing-horne in a chaine, hanging at his Brothers legge, to what forme but that he is, ſhould wit larded with malice, and malice forced with wit, turne him to: 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 Lizard, an Owle, a Puttocke, or a Herring without a Roe, I would not care: but to be *Menelaus*, I would confipre againſt Deſtiny. Aske me not what I would be, if I were not *Therites*: for I care not to bee the lowſe of a Lazar, ſo I were not *Menelaus*. Hoy-day ſpirits and fires.", "*Enter Heſtor, Ajax, Agamemnon, Vlyſſes, Neſtor, Diomed, with Lights.*", "*Aga.* We go wrong, we go wrong.", "*Ajax.* No yonder 'tis, there where we fee the light.", "*Heſt.* I trouble you.", "*Ajax.* No, not a whit.", "*Enter Achilles.*", "*Vlſt.* Heere comes himſelfe to guide you ?", "*Achil.* Welcome brave Heſtor, welcome Princes all.", "*Agam.* So now faire Prince of Troy, I bid goodnight, *Ajax* commands the guard to tend on you.", "*Heſt.* Thanks, and goodnight to the Greeks generally,", "*Men.* Good night my Lord.", "*Heſt.* Goodnight ſweet Lord *Menelaus*.", "*Ther.* Sweet draught: ſweet quoth-a? ſweet ſinke,\nſweet fire.", "*Achil.* Goodnight and welcom, both at once, to thofe that go, or tarry.", "*Aga.* Goodnight.", "*Achil.* Old Neſtor tarries, and you too Diomed,\nKeefe Heſtor company an houre, or two.", "*Dio.* I cannot Lord, I have important buſineſſe,\nThe tide whereof is now, goodnight great Heſtor.", "*Heſt.* Give me your hand.", "*Vlſt.* Follow his Torch, he goes to Chalcas Tent,\nIle keepe you company.", "*Ther.* Sweet fir, you honour me.", "*Heſt.* And ſo good night.", "*Achil.* Come, come, enter my Tent.\n*Exeunt.*", "*Ther.* That fame Diomed's a falſe-hearted Rogue, a moſt unjuſt Knave; I will no more truſt him when hee leeres, then I will a Serpent when hee hilles: he will ſpend his mouth & promite, like Brabler the Hound; but when he performs, Aſtronomers foreſtell it, that it is prodigious, there will come ſome change: the Sunne borrows of the Moone when Diomed keepeſ his word. I will rather leave to ſee Heſtor, then not to dogge him: they ſay, he keepeſ a Troyan Drab, and uſe the Traitéur Chalcas his tent. Ile after — Nothing but Letherie? All incontinent Varlets.\n*Exeunt.*", "*Enter Diomed,*", "*Dio.* What are you up here ho ? ſpeake ?", "*Chal.* Who cals ?", "*Dio.* Diomed, Chalcas (I thinke where's your Daughter ?", "*Chal.* She comes to you.", "*Enter Troylus and Vliffes.*", "*Vlſt.* Stand where the Torch may not diſcover us.", "*Enter Creſſid.*", "*Troy.* Creſſid come forth to him.", "*Dio.* How now my charge?", "*Creſ.* Now my ſweet gardian: hearke a word with you.", "*Troy.* Yea, ſo familiar?", "*Vlſt.* 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 ?", "*Creſ.* Remember ? yes.", "*Dio.* Nay, but doe then; and let your minde be conpleſed with your words.", "*Troy.* What ſhould ſhe remember ?", "*Vlſt.* Lift ?", "*Creſ.* Sweet hony Greek, tempt me no more to ſolly.", "*Ther.* Roquery.", "*Dio.* Nay then.", "*Creſ.* Ile tell you what.", "*Dio.* Fo, fo, come tell a pin, you are a forſwome—\n*Creſ.* In faith I cannot: what would you have me do?", "*Ther.* A juggling tricke, to be ſecreely open.", "*Dio.* What did you ſware you would beſtow on me?\n*Creſ.* I prethee doe not hold me to mine oath.", "", "*Bid me any thing but that ſweet Greeke.*", "*Dio.* Good", "*Dio.* G.", "*Troy.* H.", "*Vlſt.* H.", "*Creſ.* N.", "*Dio.* N.", "*Troy.* I.", "*Creſ.* I.", "*Troy.* I.", "*Vlſt.* I.", "*Dio.* I.", "*Troy.* B.", "*Vlſt.* Y.", "*Troy.* Y.", "*Vlſt.* I.", "*Youſnow.*", "*Troy.* Vlſt.", "*Vlſt.* Y.", "*Troy.* Y.", "*I will not.*", "*Dio.* A.", "*Creſ.* I.", "*Troy.* Vlſt.", "*Vlſt.* V.", "*Troy.* Vlſt.", "*Creſ.* F.", "*Dio.* F.", "*Creſ.* F.", "*Vlſt.* Y.", {"bbox": [1103, 652, 1

Troylus and Crefsidia.

Dio. Good night.
Troy. Hold patience.
Vif. How now Trojan?
Cref. Diomed.
Dio. No, no, good night: lie be your fool: no more.
Troy. Thy better muft.
Cref. Earke one word in your eare.
Troy. O plague and madneſſe!
Vilf. You are moved Prince, let us depart I pray you,
Left your displeasure ſhould enlarge it ſelfe.
To wrath full tearmes: this place is dangerous;
The time right deadly: I beſech you goe:
Troy. Behold, I pray you:
Vilf. Nay, good my Lord goe off:
You flow to great diſtraCTION: come my Lord?
Troy. I pray thee ſtay?
Vilf. You have not patience, come.
Troy. I pray you ſtay by hell and all hells torments,
I will not ſpeake a word.
Dio. And to good night.
Cref. Nay, but you part in anger.
Troy. Doth that grieve thee? O withered truth!
Vilf. Why, how now Lord?
Troy. By Iove I will be patient.
Cref. Gardian? why Greece?
Dio. Fo, fo, adew, you palter.
Cref. In faith I doe not: come hither once againe.
Vilf. You ſhake my Lord at ſomething; will you goe?
You will break out:
Troy. She ſtroakes his cheeke.
Vilf. Come, come.
Troy. Nay ſtay, by Iove 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 divell Luxury with his fat rumepe
and Potato finger, tickles theſe together: ſrye lechery, ſrye.
Dio. But will you then?
Cref. In faith I will goe; never truſt me eſſe.
Dio. Give me ſome token for the ſurety of it.
Cref. Ile fetch you one.
Vilf. You have ſworne patience.
Troy. Feare me not ſwecte Lord.
I will not be my ſelfe, nor have cognition
Of what I feel: I am all patience.
Ther. Now the pledge, now, now, now.
Cref. Here Diomed, keepe this ſleeve.
Troy. O beauty ! where is thy Faith?
Vilf. My Lord.
Troy. I will be patient, outwardly I will.
Cref. You looke upon that Sleeve? behold it well:
He lov'd me: O faſſe wench: give't me againe.
Dio. Whofe was't?
Cref. It is no matter now I have't againe.
I will not meete with you to morrow night:
I prythee Diomed, viſite me no more.
Ther. Now the harpens: well ſaid Whetstone.
Dio. I ſhall have it.
Cref. What, this?
Dio. I that.
Cref. O all you gods: O pretty, pretty pledge;
Thy Maſter now lies thinking in his bed
Of thee and me, and ſighs, and takes my Glove,
And gives memoriall dainty kiffes to it;
As I kiffer thee.
Dio. Nay, do not ſnatch it from me.
Cref. He that takes that, takes my heart withall.
Dio. I had your heart before, this followes it.
Troy. I did ſwere patience.
Cref. You shall not have it Diomed: faith you shall not
Ile giue you ſomething eſſe.
Dio. I will have this: whoſe was it?
Cref. It is no matter.
Dio. Come to me, whoſe it was?
Cref. Twas one that lov'd me better then you will.
But now you have it, take it.
Dio. Whofe was it?
Cref. By all Dianas waiting women yonder.
And by her ſelfe, I will not tell you whoſe.
Dio. To morrow will I weare it on my Helme,
And grieve his ſpirit that dares not challenge it.
Troy. Wert thou the divell, and wor't 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 never ſhalt mocke Diomed againe.
Cref. You ſhalt not goe: one cannot ſpeake a word,
But it ſtait flarts you.
Dio. I do not like this fooling.
Ther. Nor I by Pluto: but that that likes not me, pleas
me beſt.
Dio. What ſhall I come the houre.
Cref. I, come: O Iove! doe, come: I shall be plagu'd.
Dio. Farewell till then.
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 ſex; this ſault in us 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.
Ther. A proofe of ſtrength the ſe could not publifh more;
Vnleſſe the ſay, my minde is now turn'd whoſe.
Vilf. Al's done my Lord.
Troy. It is.
Vilf. Why ſtay we then?
Troy. To make a recordation to my ſoule
Of every ſyllable that here was ſpoke:
But if I tell how theſe two did coac;
Shall I not lie, in publifhing a truth?
Sith yet there is a credence in my heart:
An ſeperance ſo obſtinately ſtrong,
That doth invert that reſt of eyes and eares;
As if thole organs had deceptious ſunctions,
Created only to calumniate.
Was Crefsid here?
Vilf. I cannot conjure Trojan,
Troy. She was not ſure.
Vilf. Moſt ſure the ſwas.
Troy. Why my negation hath no taſſe of madneſſe?
Vilf. Nor mine my Lord: Crefsid was here but now.
Troy. Let it not be beleev'd for womanhood:
Thinke we had mothers; doe not give advantage
To ſubborne Criticks, apt without a theame
For depravation, to ſquare the generall ſex
By Crefids rule. Rather thinke this not Cefsid.
Vilf. What hath the done Prince, that can ſoyle our
mothers?
Troy. Nothing at all, unleſſe that this were the.
Ther. Will he ſwagger himſelfe out on's owne eyes?
Troy. This ſhe no, this is Diomed's Crefsidia:
If beauty have a ſoule, this is not the:
bb

["Troylus and Cressida.", "26", "If foules guide vows, if vows are sanctity;\nIf sanctity be the gods delight:", "", "If there be rule in unity it selfe,", "This is not the: O madnesse of discourte!", "That cause fets up, with; and againft thy selfe,", "By foule authority: where reafon can revolt", "Without perdition, and loſſe affume all reafon,", "Without revolt. This is, and is not Creffid:", "Within my foule, there doth conduce a fight", "Of this strange nature, that a thing inſtituate,", "Divides more wider then the skie and earth:", "And yet the ſpacious breth of this divifion,", "Admits no Orifice for a point as ſubtle,", "As Ariachnes broken woofe to enter:", "Inſtance, O inſtance, ſtrong as Plutoes gates:", "Creffid is mine, tied with the bonds of heaven;", "Inſtance O inſtance, ſtrong as heaven it selfe:", "The bonds of heaven are flipt, diſſolv'd, and loos'd:", "And with another knot ſive finger tied,", "The fractions of her faith, orts of her love:", "The fragments, ſcrapes, the bits, and greacy reliques,", "Of her ore-eaten faith, are bound to Diomed.", "Oif. May worthy Troylus be hafte attached", "With that which here his paffion doth expreſſe?", "Troy. I Greeke, and that shall be divulged well", "In Characters, as red as Mars his heart", "Inflam'd with Venus, never did yong man fancy", "With ſo eternall and ſo fixt a loule:", "Hea: ke Greek: as much as I doe Creſſida love;", "So much by weight, hate I her Diomed,", "That Sleeve is mine, that heele beare in his Helme:", "Were it a Caske compos'd by Vulcans skill,", "My Sword ſhould bite it: Not the dreadfull ſpout,", "Which Shtipmen doe the Hurricane call,", "Conſtring'd in mafſe by the almighty ſennie,", "Shall dizzie with more clamour Neptunes eare", "In his diſcent then ſhall my prompted ſword,", "Falling on Diomed.", "Ther. Heele tickle it for his concupy.", "Troy. O Creſſid ! O falſe Creſſid ! ſalſe, ſalſe, ſalſe:", "Let all untruths ſland by thy ſtained name,", "And theyle ſeeme glorious.", "Vif. O containe your ſelfe:", "Your paffion drawes eares hither.", "Enter Aeneas.", "En. I have beene feeking you this houre my Lord:", "Heſtor by this is arming him in Troy.", "Aiax your Guard, ſtales to conduct you home.", "Troy. Have with you Prince my curteous Lord adoe:", "Farewell revolted faire: and Diomed,", "Stand ſaſt, and weare a Cattle on thy head.", "Vt. Ile bring you to the Gates.", "Troy. Accept diſtraſted thanks.", "Exemt Troylus, Aeneas, and Ulysses.", "Ther. Would I could meete that roague Diomed, I\nwould croke like a Raven : I would bode, I would bode:\nPatroclus will give me any thing for the intelligence of\nthis whore: the Parrot will not do more for an Almond,\nthen he for a commodious drab : Lechery, lechery, full\nwarres and lechery, nothing eſſe holds fashion. A burning\ndivell, take them.\nExit.", "Enter Hector and Andromache.", "And. When was my Lord ſo much ungently temper'd,\nTo ſtop his eares againſt admonifhment?", "Vnname, vnname, and doe not fight to day.", "Heſt. You traine me to offend you: get you gone.", "By the everlaſting gods, Ile goe.", "And. My dreames will ſure prove ominous to the day.", "Heſt. No more I fay.", "Enter Cassandra.", "Caf. Where is my brother Heſtor?", "And. Here filter, arm'd, and bloudy in intent:", "Comfort with me in loud and deere petition:", "Purſue we him on knees: for I have dream'd", "Of bloudy turbulence; and this whole night", "Hath nothing beene but ſhapes, and ſormes of ſlaughter.", "Caf. O, this true.", "Heſt. How bid my Trumpet found.", "Caf. No notes of ſally, for the heavens, ſweet brother.", "Heſt. Begon I fay: the gods have heard me ſware.", "Caf. The gods are deafe to hot and peavil ſowes;", "They are polluted offreings, more abhord", "Then ſpotted Livers in the ſacrifice.", "And. O be perſwaded, doe not count it holy,", "To hurt by being juſt; it is as lawfull:", "For we would count give much to as violent thefts,", "And rob in the behalfe of charity.", "Caf. It is the purpofe that makes ſtrong the vowe;", "But vowe to every purpope muſt not hold:", "Vnname ſwete Heſtor.", "Heſt. Hold you ſtill I fay;", "Mine honour kceeps the weather of my fate:", "Life every man holds deere, but the deere man", "Holds honor farre more precious: deere, then life.", "Enter Troylus.", "How new yong man'mean't ſt thou to fight to day?", "And. Cassandra, call my father to perſwade.", "Exit Cassandra.", "Heſt. No faith yong Troylus: doffe thy harnefle youth:", "I am to dayith 'vaine of Chivalry?", "Let grow thy Sinews till their knots be ſtrong:", "And tempt not yet the bruches of the warre.", "Vnname thee, goe, and doubt thou not brane boy,", "Ile ſtand to day, for thee, and me, and Troy.", "Troy. Brother, you have a vice of mercy in you;", "Which better fits a Lyon, then a man.", "Heſt. What vice is that? good Troylus chide me for it.", "Troy. When many times the captive Grecian falls,", "Even in the fanne and winde of your faire Sword:", "You bid them rife, and live.", "Heſt. Ot is faire play.", "Troy. Fooles play, by heaven Heſtor.", "Heſt. How now how now?", "Troy. For th'love of all the gods", "Let's leave the Hermit Pitty with our Mothers:", "And when we have our Armors buckled on,", "The venom'd vengeance ride upon our ſwords.", "Spur them to ruefull worke, reine them from ruth.", "Heſt. Fi. ſavage, ſie.", "Troy. Hector, then this warres,", "Heſt. Troylus, I would not have you fight to day.", "Troy. Who ſ

Troylus and Crefida.

27

Fall all together.

Priam. Come Hector, come, goe backe:
Thy wife hath dreamt; thy mother hath vifions,
Cophandra doth forefee; and I my selfe,
Am like a Prophet suddenly enrapt,
to tell thee that this day is ominous:
Therefore come backe.

Hel. Aemis is a field,

And I do stand engag'd to many Greekes,
Even in the faith of valour, to appeare
This morning to them.

Priam. I, but thou shalt not goe,
Hel. I must not breake my faith:
You know me dutiful; therefore deare fir,
Let me not flame respect; but give me leave
To take that courte by your consent and voice,
Which you doe here forbid me, Royall Priam.

Cf. O Priam, yceelde not to him.

And. Doe not deere father.

Hel. Andromache I am offended with you:
Vpon the love you beare me, get you in.

Exit Andromache.

Troy. This foolifh, dreaming, superflitious girle,
Makes all thefe bodements.

Cf. O farewell, deere Hector:

Looke how thou dieft; looke how thy eye turnes pale:
Looke how thy wounds doe bleede at many vents:
Hearke how Troy roares; ho Hecuba cries out;
How poore Andromache thrils her dolour forth;
Behold distraction, frency, and amazement,
Like witelike Antickes one another meete,
And all cry Hector, Hectors dead: O Hector!

Troy. Away.

Cf. Farewell, yes, soft: Hector I take my leave;
Thou do'ft thy selfe, and all our Troy deceive. Exit.

Hec. You are amaz'd, my Liege, at her exclaine:

Goe in and cheere the Towne, weele forth and fight:
Doe deedes of praeife, and tell you them at night.

Priam. Farewell: the gods with fafety fland about thee.

Alarum.

Troy. They are at it, hearke: proud Diomed, beleve
I come to loofe my arme, or winne my fleeve.

Enter Pandar.

Pad. Doe you heare my Lord? do you heare?

Troj. What now?

Pand. Here's a Letter come from yond poore girle.

Troy. Let me reade.

Pand. A whorfon tificke, a whorfon rafcally tificke,
for troubles me; and the foolifh fortune of this girle, and
what one thing, what another, that I shall leave you one
o'th's dayes; and I have a rheume in mine eyes too, and
fuch an ache in my bones: that unleſſe a man were curſt,
I cannot tell what to thinke on't. What ſayes the there?

Troy. Words, words, mecre words, no matter from
the heart.

Th' effect doth operate another way.

Goe winde to winde, there turne and change together:
My love with words and errors fill the feedes;
But edifies another with her deedes.

Pand. Why, but heare you?

Troy. Hence brother lachy, signomy and ſhame
Perſume thy life, and live aye with thy name.

Alarum.

Exeunt.

Enter Therfites in excursion.

Ther. Now they are clapper-clawing one another, Ile
goe looke on: that diffembling abhominable varlet Dio-
mede, has got that fame ſcurvy, doting, foolifh yong
knaves Sleeve of Troy, there in his Helme: I would faire
fee them meet; that, that fame yong Trojan affe, that loves
the whore there, might fend that Greekifh whore-mai-
ferly villaine, with the Sleeve, backe to the diffembling
luxurious drabbe, of a ſleeveleſſe errant. O'th'tother ſide,
the polliey of thofe crafty ſwearing rafcals; that ſtole
old Mouſe-eaten dry cheeſe, Neſtor: and that fame dog-
foxe Uſliffes is not prov'd worth a Black-berry. They fet
me up in polliey, that mungrill curre Aiax, againſt that
dogge of as bad a kinde, Achilles. And now is the curre
Aiax prouder then the curre Achilles, and will not arme
to day. Whereupon, the Grecians began to proclaime
barbarifme; and polliey growes into an ill opinion.

Enter Diomed and Troylus.

Soft, heere comes Sleeve, and th'other.

Troy. Flye not: for ſhould it thou take the River Stix,
I would ſwim after.

Dion. Thou do'ſt mifcall retire:

I do not flye; but advantageous care

Withdrew me from the oddes of multitude:

Have at thee?

Ther. Hold thy whore Grecian: now for thy whore
Troian: Now the Sleeve, now the Sleeve.

Enter Helior.

Hel. What art thou Greek? art thou for Hectors match?
Art thou of bloud, and honour?

Ther. No, no: I am a rafcall: a ſcurvy railing knave: a
very filthy roague.

Hec. I doe beleeve thee, live.

Ther. God amercy, that thou wifl beleeve me; but a
plague breake thy necke--for frightening me: what's be-
come of the wenching rogues? I thinke they have twal-
lowed one another. I would laugh at that miracle--yet
in a ſort, lechery eates it ſelfe: I feeke them.

Exit.

Enter Diomed and Servant.

Dia. Goe, goe, my fervant, take thou Troylus Horſe;
Prefent the faire Steede to my Lady Creſſid:
Fellow, commend my ſervice to her beautey:
Tell her, I have chaſtis'd the amourous Troyan.
And am her Knight by proofe.

Ser. I goe my Lord.

Enter Agamemnon.

Aga. Renew, renew, the fierce Polidamus

Hath beare downe Menon; baſtard Margareton
Hath Dorens prifoner.

And stands Coloſſus-wife waving his beame,
Vpon the pafhed courſes of the Kinger.

Epifropus and Cedus, Pelixines is flainer.

Amphimacus, and Thous deadly hurt:

Parroclus tane or ſlaſne, and Palamedes

Sore hurt and bruifed; the dreadfull Sagittary
Appauls our numbers, halle we Diomed

To re-enforcement, or we perſih all.

Enter Neſtor.

Neſt, Goe beare Parroclus body to Achilles,
And bid the ſnaile-pac'd Aiax arme for ſhame.

There is a thousand Hectors in the field:

Now here he fightes on Galatæ his Horſe,
And there lacks worke: anon he's thereafoote,
And there they flye or dye, like ſcaled ſculs,

bb 2

Before

Troylus and Creſsida.

Before the belching Whale; then is he yonder,
And there the straying Greekees, ripe for his edge,
Fall downe before him, like the mowers fwath;
Here, there, and every where, he leaves and takes;
Dexterity to obaying appetite,
That what he will he does, and does so much,
That proofe is call'd impoſsibility.

Enter Vlyffes.

Vlſ. Oh, courage, courage Princes: great *Achilles*
Is arming, weeping, curling, vowing vengeance;
Patroclus wounds have ronz'd his drowzie blond,
Together with his mangled *Myrmidons*,
That noſeleſſe, handleſſe, hackt and chipt, come to him;
Crying on *Heſtor*. *Aiax* hath loft a friend,
And foames at mouth, and he is arm'd, and at it:
Roaring for *Troylus*; who hath done to day,
Mad and ſantraſſicke execution;
Engaging and redeeming of himſelfe,
With ſucha careleſſe force, and forceleſſe care,
As if that luck in very ſpight of cunning, bad him win al.

Enter Aiax.

Aia. Troylus, thou coward Troylus.

Exit.

Dio. I, there, there.

Neſt. So, lo, we draw together.

Exit.

Enter *Achilles*.

Achil. Where is this *Heſtor*?

Come, come, thou boy-queller, ſhow thy face:
Know what it is to meete *Achilles* angry.

Heſtor, wher's Heſtor? I will none but Heſtor.

Exit.

Enter Aiax.

Aia. Troylus, thou coward Troylus, ſhow thy head.

Enter Diomed.

Dion. Troylus, I ſay, wher's Troylus?

Aia. What would'ſt thou?

Dio. I would correct him.

Aia. Were I the Generall,

Thou ſhould'ſt have my office,

Ere that correction: Troylus I ſay, what Troylus?

Enter Troylus.

Troy. Oh tritour Diomed!

Turne thy falſe face thou traytor,

And pay thy life thou oweſt me for my horie.

Dio. Ha, art thou there?

Aia. Ile fight with him alone, ſtand Diomed.

Dio. He is my prize, I will not looke upon.

Troy. Come both you cogging Greekees, have at you

both.

Exit Troylus.

Enter *Heſtor*.

Heſt. Yea Troylus? O well fought, my yongest Brother.

Enter *Achilles*.

Achil. Now doe I fee thee; have at thee *Heſtor*.

Heſt. Paufe if thou wilt.

Achil. I doe diſdaine thy curſe, proud Trojan;

Be happy that my armes are out of uſe:

My reſt and negligence beſtrend thee now,

But thou anon ſhalt heare of me againe:

Till when, goe feeke thy fortune.

Heſt. Fare thee well:

I would have beene much more a freſher man,
Had I expected thee: how now my Brother?

Enter *Troylus*.

Troy. Aiax hath tane *Enea*; shall it be?
No, by the flame of yonder glorious heaven,
He shall not carray him: Ile be tane too,
Or bring him off: Fate heare me what I ſay;

I wreaſe not, though thou end my life to day.

Enter one in Armour.

Exit.

Heſt. Stand, ſtand, thou Greeke,

Thou art a goodly marke:

No'wilt thou not? I like thy armour well,

Ile ſtruſh it, and unlocke the rivets all,

But Ile be maſter of it: wilt thou not beaſt abide?

Why then flye on, Ile hunt thee for thy hide.

Exit.

Enter *Achilles* with *Myrmidons*.

Achil. Come here about me you my *Myrmidons*:

Marke what I ſay; attend me where I wheele:

Strike not a ſtroake, but kepe your ſelves in breath;

And when I have the bloudy *Heſtor* found,

Empale him with your weapons round about:

In ſelleſt manner execute your armes

Follow me ſirs, and my proceeding eye;

It is decreed, *Heſtor* the great muſt dye.

Exit.

Enter *Therſites*, *Menelaus*, and *Paris*.

Ther. The Cuckold and the Cuckold-maker are at it:
now bull, now dogge, lowe; Paris lowe; now my double
hen'ſparrow; low Paris, lowe; the bull has the game:
ware hornes ho?

Exit Paris and Menelaus.

Enter *Baſtard*.

*Baſt*. Turne ſlave and fight.

*Ther*. What art thou?

*Baſt*. A Baſtard Sonne of *Priams*.

Ther. I am a Baſtard too, I love Baſtards, I am a Baſtard begot, Baſtard inſtructed, Baſtard in minde, Baſtard in valour, in every thing illegitimate: one Beare will not bite another, and wherefore ſhould one Baſtard ? take heede, the quarrell's moſt ominous to us: if the Sonne of a whore fight for a whore, he tempts judgement: farewell Baſtard.

*Baſt*. The divell take the coward.

Exeunt.

Enter *Hector*.

Hec. Moſt putrified core ſo faire without:
Thy goodly armour thus hath coſt thy life.

Now is my dares worke done; Ile take good breath.

Reſt Sword, thou haſt thy fill of bloud and death.

Enter *Achilles* and his *Myrmidons*.

Achil. Looke *Heſtor* how the Sunne begins to ſet:
How ugly night comes heating at his heelees,
Even with the vaille and darking of the Sunne.
To close the day up, *Hectors* life is done.

*Hect*. I am unarm'd, for goe 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 finewes, and thy bone.

On *Myrmidons*, cry you all a maine,

*Achilles* hath the mighty *Hector* flaine.

Retreat.

Hearke, a retreat upon our Grecian part.

Gree. The Trojan Trumpets founds the like my Lord.

*Achi*. The dragon wing of night ore, ſpreds the earth
And ſtickler-like the Armies ſeperates

My halſe ſupt Sword, that frankly would have ſed,

Pleas'd with this dainty bitt; thus goes to bed.

Come, tye his body to my horſes tayle:

Along the field, I will the Trojan traile.

Exeunt.

Sound Retreat.

Shout.

Enter *Agamemnon*, *Aiax*, *Menelaus*, *Neſtler*,
*Diomed*, and the reſt marching.

*Aga*. Hearke, hearke, what ſhout is that?

*Neſt*. Peace Drums.

Sol Achill

Troylus and Cressida.

29

Sold, Achilles, Achilles, Hector's flaine, Achilles.

*Dio.* The bruite is Hector's flaine, and by Achilles,

*Asia.* If it be so, yet braggle let it be:

Great Hector was a man as good as he.

*Agam.* March patiently along, let one be sent

To pray Achilles see us at our Tent.

If in his death the gods have us befriended,

Great Troy is ours, and our Sharpe wars are ended.

*Exeunt.*

Enter Aeneas, Paris, Anthenor and Deiphobus.

*Aenea.* Stand hoe, yet are we maifters of the field,
Never goe home; here Sharve we out the night.

*Enter Troylus.*

*Troy. Hector is flaine.*

*All Hector the gods forbid.*

*Tory.* Hee's dead: and at the murtherers Horfe taile,
In beafly fort, drag'd through the flamefull Field,
Frowne on you heavens, effect your rage with fpeede:
Sit gods upon your throanes, and ſmile at Troy.
I lay at once, let your briefe plagues be mercy,
And linger not our fire deſtructions on,

*Aenea.* My Lord, you doe difcomfort all the Hottes.

*Troy.* You understand me not, that tell me for:
I do not ſpeak of flight, of ſcare, of death,
But dare all imminence that gods and men,
Addreſſe their dangers in. Hector is gone:
Who ſhall tell Priam for Hecuba,
Let him that will a freechoule 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 Nijobes of the maides and wives;
Coole flatues of the youthand in a word,
Scarre Troy out of it ſelfe. But march away,
Hector is dead: there is no more to ſay.

*Stay yet: you vile abhominable Tents,*

*Thus proudly pight upon our Phrygian plaines:*

*Let Titan rife as early as he dare,*

*Ile through, and through you; & thou great fiz'd coward:*

*No space of Earth shall funder our two hates,*

*Ile haunt thee, like a wicked confience ſtil,
That mouldeth goblins ſwift as frenfies thoughts.*

*Strike a free match to Troy, with comfort goe:
Hope of revenge, ſhall hide our inward woe.*

*Enter Pandarus.*

*Pand. But heare you? heare you?*

*Troy.* Hence brother, lacke, ignomy, and flame

*Perfue thy life, and live aye with thy name.*

*Exeunt.*

*Pa.* A goodly medicine for mine a kingbones: oh world,
world, world! thus is the poore agent difpide: Oh trail-
tours and bawdes; how earneſtly are you ſet aworke, and
how ill requited? why ſhould our indeavour be ſo defir'd,
and the performance ſo loath'd? What Verſe for it? what
inſtance for it? let me ſee

*Full merrily the humble Bee doth ſing,*

*Till he hath loft his hony, and his ſling.*

*And being once ſubdu'd in armed taile,*

*Sweete hony, and fweete notes together faile.*

*Good traders in the fleſh, ſet this in your painted cloathes
As many as be heere of Panders hall,*

*Your eyes halſe out, weepe out at Pandar's fall:*

*Or if you cannot weepe, yet give ſome grones;*
*Though not for me, yet for your akingbones:*

*Brethren and lifters of the hold-dore trade,*

*Some two months hence, my will ſhall here be made:
It ſhould be now, but that my ſcare is this:*

*Some galled Goofe of Winchefter would hihſe:*

*Till then, Ile ſweare, and feeke about for cafes;
And at that time be queath you my diſeafes.*

*Exeunt.*

FINIS.

The Tragedy of Coriolanus.

31

I'ch mid't a th'body, idle and unaſtive,
Still cubbording the Viand, never bearing
Like labour with the reſt, w here th'other Inſtruments
Did fee, and heare, deviſe, inſtruct, walke, ſeele,
And mutually participate, did minifter
Vnto the appetite, and affection common
Of the whole body, the Belly anſwer.

2 Cit. Well fir, what anſwer made the Belly.

Men. Sir, I ſhall tell you with a kindneſs of ſmile,
Which ne're came from the Lungs, but even thus:
For looke you I may make the belly ſmile,
As well as ſpeake, it tantingly replied,
To'ch'd discontented Members, the mutinous parts
That envied his receiſe; even moſt ſidely,
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 Minunions and pretty helps
In this our Fabrieke, 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 Agent, if they did complain,
What could the Belly anſwer?

Men. I will tell you,

If you'lbeltow a ſmall (of what you have little)

Patience a while; yon't heare the Bellies anſwer.

2 Ca. Yare long about it.

Men. Note me this good FRIENd;

Yourmoſt grave Belly was deliberate,
Not rath like his Accufers and thus anſWERed
True is it my Incorporate Friends (quoth he)
That I receive the general Food at firſt

Which you do live upon; and fit it is,
Because I am the Store-houſe, and the Shop
Of the whole Body. But, if you do remember,
I ſend it through the Rivers of your blood

Of the whole Body, and through the Rivers of your blood
Even to the Court, the Heart, to th'teate o'th'Braine,
And through the Crankes and Offices of man,
The ſtrongeſt Nerves, and ſmall inferior Veines
From me receive that natural competency

Whereby they live. And though that all at once
(You my good Friends, this layes the Belly) mark me,

2 Cit. I fir, well, well,

Men. Though all at once, cannot

See what I do deliver out to each,

Yet I can make my Awdit up, that all
From me do backe receive the Flowre of all,

And leave me but the Bran. What ſay you toot?

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 Counſailles, and their Care; diſeſt things rightely,
Touching the Weale a'th Common, you ſhall ſinde

No publique benefit, which you receive

But it proceeds, or comes from them to you,
And no way from your ſelves. What do you think?

You, the great Toe of this Affemblie?

2 Cit. I the great Toe? Why the great Toe?

Men. For that being one o'th loweſt, baſeſt, pooreſt
Of this moſt wife Rebellion, thou goſt formoft:

Thou Raſcall, that art worſt in blood to run,
Lead't firſt to win ſome vantage.

But make you ready your ſtiffe bats and clubs,
Rome, and her Rats, are at the point of battel,
The one ſide muſt have baile.

Enter Cains Martius.

Hayle, Noble Martius.

Mar. Thanks. What's the matter you diſſentions rogues
That tabbing the poore Iſt of your Opinion,
Make your ſelves Scabs.

2 Cit. We have ever your good word.

Mar. He that will give good words to thee, will flatter
Beneath abhorring. What would you have, you Curres,
That like nor Peace, nor Warre? The one affrights you,
The other makes you proud. He that truſts to you,
Where he ſhould ſinde you Lyons, ſinde you Hares:
Where Foxes, Geefe you are: No ſurer, no,
Then is the coale of fire upon the Ice,
Or Hailſtone in the Sun. Your Vertue is,

To make him worthy, whole ſoffence ſuddes him,
And curſe that Iſtice did it. Who deſerves Greatneſſe,
Deſerves your Hare; and your Aſfections are

A ſiekmans Appetite; who deſires moſt that
Which would encreafe his evill. He that depends

Vpon your favours, (wimmes with finnes of Lade,
And hewes downe Oakes, with ruffies. Hang ye: truſt ye?
With every Minute you do change a Minde,

And call him Noble, that was now your Hare:

Him vilde, that was your Garland. What's the matter,
That in these ſeverall places of the City,

You cry againſt the Noble Senate, who
(Vnder the Gods) keefe 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 City is well ſtor'd.

Men. Hang 'em: They ſay?

They'll fit by th'fire, and prefume to know

What's done it' Capitoll: Who's like to rife,
Who thrives, and who declines: Side factions, & give out
Conjeſturall Marriages, making parties ſtrong,

And ſeeming ſuch as ſtand not in their liking,
Below their cobled Shooes. They ſay thers grain enough?
Would the Nobility lay aſide their ruth,

And let me uſe my Swoſd, I'd make a Quarry

With thonſands of these quarter'd flanes, as high
As I could picke my Lance.

Men. Nay theſe are almoſt thoroughly perſwaded:
For though abundantly they lacke diſeretion
Yet are they pafſing Cowardly. But I beſech you,
What ſayes the other Troope?

Mar. They are diffol'd: Hang 'em;

They ſaid they were an hungry, ſigh'd forth Proverbes

That Hunger-broke ſtone wals; that dogges muſt eate

That meate was made for mouths. That the gods ſent not
Corne for the Richmen onely: With theſe threes

They vented their Complaining, which being anſwer'd
And a petition granted them, a iſtange one,

To breake the heart of generosity,

And make bold power looke pale, they threw their caps
As they would hang them on the hornes a'th Moone,

Shooting their Emulation.

Men. What is graunted them?

Mar. Five Tributes to defend their vulgar widdoms
Of their owne choice. One's Iunius Bruits,
Sicinius velatus, and I know not. Sdeath,

The

["32", "The Tragedy of Coriolanus.", "Therabbleshould have firft unrooſt the City", "Ere fo prevail'd with me; it will in time", "Win upon power, and throw forth greater Theames", "For Infurrections arguing.", "Menen. This is ſtrange.", "Mar. Go get you home you Fragments.", "Enter a Messenger haſtily.", "Mef. Where's Caius Martinus?", "Mar. Heere; what's the matter?", "Mef. The newes is fir, the Volcies are in Armes.", "Mar. I am glad on't, then we shall ha meane to vent\nOur muſt y Superfluity. See our beſt Elders.", "Enter Sicinius Velutus, Annius Brutus Cominius, Titus\nLarinus, with other Senators.", "1. Sen. Martinus tis true, that you have lately told us,", "The Volces are in Armes.", "Mar. They have a Leader,", "Tullus Auffidius that will put you toot:", "I finne in envying his Nobility:", "And were I any thing but what I am,", "I would with me onely he.", "Com. You have fought together?", "Mar. Were halfe to halfe the world by ch'eares, & he\nVpon my party, Ide revolt to make", "Only my warres with him. He is a Lion", "That I am proud to hunt.", "1. Sen. Then worthy *Martinus*,", "Attend upon Cominius to theſe Warres.", "Com. It is your former promise.", "Mar. Sir it is,", "And I am conſtant: Titus Lucius, thou", "Shalt fee me once more ſtrike at Tullus face.", "What art thou ſtiffe? Stand'it out?", "Tis. No Caius Martius,", "He leane upon one Crutch, and fight with tother,", "Ere ſlay behinde this Buſineſſe.", "Men. Oh true-bred.", "Sen. Your company to th'Capitoll, where I know", "Our greatest Friends attend us.", "Tit. Lead you on: Follow Cominius, we muſt followe\nyou, right worthy you Priority.", "Com. Noble *Martinus*.", "Sen. Hence to your homes, be gone.", "Mar. Nay let them follow,", "The Volces have much Corne; take theſe Rats thither,", "To gnaw their Garners. Worſhip full Mutiners,", "Your valour puts well forth: Pray follow.", "Exeunt.", "Citizens ſteale away. Manent Sicin, & Brutus.", "Sicin. Was ever man ſo proud as is this *Martinus*?", "Bru. He has no equall.", "Sic. When we were choſen Tribunes for the people.", "Bru. Mark'd you his lip and eyes.", "Sic. Nay, but his taunts.", "Bru. Being mov'd, he will not ſpare to gird the Gods.", "Sic. Bemocke the model Moone.", "Bru. The preſent Warres devoure him, he is growne\nToo proud to be ſo valiant.", "Sicin. Such a Nature, tickled with good ſuccesse, diſ-\ndaines the ſhadow which he treads on at noone, but I do\nwonder, his infolence can brooke to be commanded un-\nder Cominius?", "Bru. Fame, at the which he aymes,", "In whom already he is well grac'd, cannot", "Better he held, nor more attain'd then by", "A place below the firſt: for what miſcarries", "Shall be the Generals fault, though he performe", "To th'utmoſt of a man, and giddy centre", "Will then cry out of *Martinus*: Oh, if he", "Had borne the buſineſſe.", "Sic. Befides, if things go well;", "Opinion that ſo flickes on *Martinus*, ſhall", "Of his demerits rob Cominius.", "Bru. Come: halſe all Cominius Honors are to *Martinus*\nThough *Martinus* earn'd them not: and all his faults\nTo *Martinus* shall be Honors, though indeed\nIn ought he merit not.", "Sic. Let's hence, and heare", "How the diſpatch is made, and in what ſashion", "More then his ſingularity, he goes", "Upon this preſent Action.", "Bru. Let's along.", "Exeunt.", "Enter Tullus Auffidius with Senators of Coriolus.", "1. Sen. So, your opinion is *Auffidius*.", "That they of Rome are entred in our Counfailes,", "And know how we proceede,", "Amf. Is it not yours?", "What ever hath bin thought one in this State", "That could be brought to bodily aſt, ere Rome", "Had circumuention: tis not ſoure dayes gone", "Since I heard thence, theſe are the words, I thinke", "I have the Letter heere: yes, heere it is;", "They have preſt a power, but it is not knowne", "Whether for Eaſt or Weſt: the Death is great,", "The people Mutinous: And it is rumour'd", "Cominius, *Martinus* your old Enemy", "(Who is of Rome worſe hated then of you)", "And *Titus Lartius*, a moſt valiant Roman,", "The ſe three leade on this Preparation", "Whether tis bent: moſt likely, tis for you:", "Confider of it.", "1. Sen. Our Armie's in the Field:", "We never yet made doubt but Romaine was ready", "To anſwer us.", "Amf. Nor did you thinke it folly,", "To keepe your great pretences vay'd, till when", "They needs muſt ſhow themſelues, which in the hatching", "It seem'd appear'd to Rome. By the diſcovery,", "We ſhall be ſhortn'd in our ayme, which was", "To take in many Townes, ere (almoſt) Rome", "Should know we were a-foot.", "2. Sen. Noble *Auffidius*,", "Take your commiſſion, hye you to your Bands,", "Let us alone to guard Coriolus", "If they fet downe before e's: for the remove", "Bring up your Army: but (I thinke) you'l finde", "Th' have not prepared for us.", "Amf. O doubt not that,", "I ſpeake from Certainties. Nay more,", "Some parcels of their Power are ſorth already.", "And only hitherward. I leave your Honors.", "If we, and *Caius Martinus* chance to meete,", "Tis ſworne betweene us, we ſhall ever ſtrike", "Till one can do no more.", "All. The Gods aſſift you.", "Amf. And keepe your Honors ſafe.", "1. Sen. Farewell.", "2

The Tragedy of Coriolanus.

Enter Volumnia and Virgilia, mother and wife to Martius:
They set them downe on two lowe slooles and sowe.

Vol. I pray you daughter sing, or expreffe your selfe in a more comfortable sort : If my Sonne were my Huf-band, I should freelier rejoyce in that abfence wherein he wonne Honor, then in the embracements of his Bed, where he would ſhow moſt love. When yet hee was but tender-bodied, and the onely Sonne of my womb; when youth with comelineſſe pluck'd all gaze his way ; when for a day of Kings entreaties, a Mother ſhould not ſel 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 ſtire, was pleas'd to let him ſeeke danger, where he was like to finde fame : To a cruell Warre I ſent him , from whence he return'd, his browes bound with Oake. I tell thee Daughter , I ſprang not more in joy at first hearing he was a Man-child , then now in first ſeeing he had pro-ved himſelfe a man.

Vir. But had he died in the Buſineſſe Madame, how then?

Volum. Then his good report ſhould have beene my Sonne, I therein would have found iffue. Heare me: pro-ſeſſe finemerely, had I a dozen ſons each in my love alike, and none leſſe deere then thine, and my good Martius, I had rather had eleven dye Nobly for their Countrey, then one voluptuously ſurſet out of Action.

Enter a Gentlewoman.

Gent. Madam, the Lady Valeria is come to viſit you.

Vir. Befeech you give me leave to retire my ſelfe.

Volum. Indeed you ſhall not:

I thinkes, I heare hither your Husbands Drumme:
See him plucke Auffidius downe by th'haire:
(As children from a Bear) the Volces flunning him:
Me thinks, I ſee him flampe thus, and call thus,
Come on you Cowards, you were got in feare
Though you were borne in Rome; his bloody brow
With his mail'd hand, then wiping, forth he goes
Like to a Harveſt man, that's task'd to mowe
Or all, or loofe his byre.

Vir. His bloody Brow? Oh Jupiter, no blood.

Volum. Away you Fools; it more becomes a man

Then gilt his Trophy. The brefts of Heuca
When he did fuckle Heſtor, look'd not lovelier
Then Hellors forhead, when it ſpit forth blood

At Grecian fwords Contending: tell Valeria

Weare fit to bid her welcome.

Exit Gent.

Vir. Heavens bleſſe my Lord from ſell Auffidius.

Vol. Hee'! beat Auffidius head below his knee,

And treade upon his necke.

Enter Valeria with an Uſher, and a Gentlewoman.

Val. My Ladies both good day to you.

Vol. Sweet Madam.

Vir. I am glad to ſee your Lady ſhip.

Val. How do you both ? You are manifeſt houſe-kepers. What are you fowing heere? A fine ſpotto in good faith. How does your little Sonne?

Vir. I thanke your Lady ſhip: Well good Madam.

Vol. He had rather ſee the ſwords, and heare a Drum, then looke upon his Schoolmaſter.

Val. A my word the Fathers Sonne: Iſe ſweare tis a very pretty boy. A my troth, I look'd upon him a Wenſ-day halſe an houre together: ha's ſuch a confirm'd coun-

tenance. I ſaw him run after a gilded Butterſy, and when he caught it, he let it go againe, and after it againe, and over and over he comes, and up againe: catch it againe: or whether his fall enrag'd him, or how twas, he did to ſet his teeth, and teare it. Oh, I warrant how he mammoctt it.

Vol. One on's Fathers moods.

Val. Indeed la, tis a Noble childe.

Vir. A Cracke Madam.

Val. Come, lay aside your ſtitchery, I muſt have you play the idle Hufwife with me this after noone.

Vir. No (good Madam)

I will not out of doores.

Val. Not out of doores?

Volum. She ſhall, the ſhall.

Vir. Indeed no, by your patience, Ile not over the threshold, till my Lord returne from the Warres.

Val. Fye, you confine your ſelfe moſt unreasonably: Come, you muſt go viſit the good Lady that lyes in.

Vir. I will with her ſpeedy ſtrength, and viſite her with my prayers: but I cannot go thither.

Volum. Why I pray you.

Vir. Tis not to vafe labour, nor that I want love.

Val. You wold be another Penelope: yet they ſay, all the yearne ſhe ſpun in Uſyſes abſence, did but fill Athenea full of Mothes. Come, I would your Cambrick were fenſible as your finger, that you might leave pricking it for pitty. Come you ſha I go with us.

Vir. No good Madam, paid on me, indeed I will not foorth.

Val. In truth la go with me, and Ile tell you excellent newes of your Husband.

Vir. 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 earneſt it's true; I heard a Senatour ſpeake it. Thus it is: the Volcies have an Army forth, againſt whom Cominius the Generall is gone, with one part of our Roman power. Your Lord, and Titus Lartius, are ſet down before their City Cariolus, they nothing doubt prevailing, and to make it brieſe Warres. This is true on mine Honor, and fo I pray go with us.

Vir. Give me excufe good Madame, I will obey you in everything heereafter.

Vol. Let her alone Lady, as ſhe is now:

She will but diſeafe our better mirth.

Val. In troth I thinke ſhe would:

Fare you well then. Come good ſweet Lady.

Prythe Virgilia turne thy ſolemneſſe out a doore,
And go along with us.

Vir. No

At a word Madam; Indeed I muſt not,
I with you much mirth.

Val. Well, then farewell.

Exsunt Ladies.

Enter Adarins, Titus Lartius, with Drumme and Co-lours, with Captaines and Souldiers, as before the City Coriolus: to them a Messenger.

Mart. Yonder comes Newes:

A Wager they have met.

Lar. My horſe to yours, no.

Mar. Tis done.

Lar. Agreed.

Mar.

The Tragedy of Coriolanus.

34

*Mar.* Say, ha's our Generall met the Enemy?

*Meff.* They lye in view, but have not spoke as yet.

*Lart.* So, the good Horfe is mine.

*Mart.* Ile buy him of you.

*Lart.* No, Ile not feel, nor give him: Lend you him I will
For half a hundred yeares; Summon the Towne.

*Mar.* How farre off lie thefe Armies?

*Meff.* Within this mile and halfe.

*Mar.* Then shall we heare their Larum, & they Ours.
Now Mars, I prythee make us quicke in worke,
That we with moaking twords 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.*

*Tullus Auffidius, is he within your Walles?*

*i. 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 us up our Gates,
Which yet feeme fhut, we have but pin'd with Ruffies,
They'le open of themfelves. Harke you, farre off.

*Alarum farre off.*

There is Auffidius. Lift what worke he makes
Amongst your cloven Army.

*Mar.* Oh they are at it

*Lar.* Their noife be our Infruſtuction. Ladders hoa.

*Enter the Army of the Volces.*

*Mar.* They feare us not, but ilufle for' their City.

Now put your Shields before your hearts, and fight
With hearts more proofe then Shields,

*Advance brave Titus,*

They do difdaine us much beyond our Thoughts,
Which makes me feave with wrath. Come on my follows
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 Curſing.*

*Mar.* All the contagion of the South, light on you,
You flames of Rome; you Heard of Byles and Plagues
Plaifter you ore, that you may be abhorrt
Farther then feene, and one infect another
Againſt the Windea mile : you foules of Geefe,
That beare the ſhapes of men, how have you run
From Slaves, 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 heaven, Ile leave the Foe,
And make my Warres on you: Looke too't; Come on,
If you'l ſtand faſt, wee'l beate them to their Wives,
As they us to our Trenches followed.

*Another Alarum, and Martius followes them to gates, and is ſout in.*

So, now the gates are open: now prove good Seconds,
Tis for the followers, Fortune widens them,
Not for the flyers: Marke me, and do the like.

*Enter the Gates.*

*I. Sol.* Foole-hardineſſe, not I.

*2. Sol.* Nor I.

*I. Sol.* See they have ſhut him in: Alarum continues

*All.* To th' pot I warrant him. Enter Titus Lartius.

*Tir.* What is become of Martius?

*Al.* Slaine (Sir) doubtleſſe.

*I. Sol.* Following the Flyers at the very heeles,

With them he enters: who upon the fodaine
Clapt to their Gates he is himselfe alone,
To anſwer all the City.

*Lar.* Oh Noble Fellow!

Who ſenſibly out-dares his ſenceleſſe Sword,
And when it bowes, it hand't up: Thou art left Martius,
A Carbuncle intire: as big as thou art
Weare not for rich a Icwell. Thou was't a Souldier
Even to Calves with, not fierce and terrible
Onely in ſtrokes, but with thy grim ſlookes, and
The Thunder-like perſuſion of thy ſounds
Thou mad't thine enemies ſhake, as if the World
Were feavourous, and did tremble.

*Enter Martius bleeding, affaulted by the Enemy.*

*I. Sol.* Looke Sir.

*Lar.* O tis Martius.

Ler's fetch him off, or make remaine alike.

*They fight, and all enter the City.*

*Enter certaine Romanes with ſpoiles.*

*1. Rem.* This will I carry to Rome.

*2. Rem.* And I this.

*3. Rem.* A Murrain on't, I tooke this for Silver. Exeunt.
Alarum continues still a farre off.

*Enter Martius, and Titus with a Trumpet.*

*Mar.* See heere theſe movers, that do prize their hours
At a crak'd Drachme: Cuffions, Leaden Spoones,
Irons of a Doit, Dublets that Hangmen would
Bury with thole that wore them. Theſe bafe flaves,
Ere yet the fight be done, packe up, downe with them,
And harke, what noife the Generall makes: To him
There is the man of my foules hate: Auffidius,
Piercing our Romanes: Then Valiant Titus take
Convenient Numbers to make good the City,
Whil'ft I with thole that have the ſpirit, will haffe
To helpe Cominius.

*Lar.* Worthy Sir, thou bleed'st,

Thy exercife hath bin too violent,
For a ſecond course of fight.

*Mar.* Sir, praſe me not:

My worke hath yet not warm'd me. Fare you well:
The blood I drop, is rather Physicall

Then dangerous to me. To Auffidius thus, I will appeare

*Lar.* Now the faire Goddeſſe Fortune, (and fight.
Fall deepe in love with thee, and her great charmes
Mifguide thy Oppofers ſwords, Bold Gentleman.
Properity be thy Page.

*Mar.* Thy Friend no leſſe.

Then thofe the placeth higheſt: So farewell.

*Lar.* Thou worthiſt Martius,

Go found thy Trumpet in the Market place,
Call thither all the Officers a'th' Towne,
Where they shall know our minde. Away.

*Exeunt.*

*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 flands,
Nor Cowardly in retire: Beleeve me Sirs,
We shall be charg'd againe. While's we have ſtrooke
By interims and conveying gufts, we have heard
The Charges of our Friends. The Roman Gods,
Leade their ſucceſſes, as we with our owne,
That both our powers, with ſmiling Fronts encountring,
May give you thankfull ſacrifice. Thy Newes?

*Enter a Meſſenger.*

*Mef.* The Citizens of Coriolus have yſtued,
And given to Lartius and to Martius Battailer:

*I law*

The Tragedy of Coriolanus.

35

Ifaw our party to their Trenbhes driven,
And then I came away.

Com. Though thou speak'st truth, I know not what is't finde?

Me thinkes thou speak'st it not well. How long is't finde?

Aef. Above 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 News so late?

Aef. Spies of the Volces

Held me in chace, that I was for'd to wheel
Three or foure miles about, else had I fir
Half an houre fince brought my reports.

Enter Martins.

Com. Whole yonder,

That doe's appeare as he were Flead? O Gods,

He has the itampe of *Martius*, and I have
Before time feene him thus.

Mar. Come I too late?

Com. The Shepherd knowes not Thunder fió a Taber,
More then I know the found of *Martius* Tongue
From every meaneer man.

Mar. 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

I 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 it with Titus Lartius?

Mar. As wich a man busied about Decrees:

Condemning fome to death, and fome to exile,
Ranfoming him, or pitying, threatening th'other;

Holding Coriolus in the name of Rome,

Even like a fawning Grey-hound in the Leaſh,
Tolet him ſhip at will.

Com. Where is that Slave,

Which told me they had beare you to your Tiſchens?
Where is he? Call him hither.

Mar. Let him alone,

He did informe the truth: but for our Gentlemen,

The common file, (a plague-Tribunes for them)

The Mòufe ne're ſhunn'd the Cat, as they did budge
From Rafaels worſe then they.

Com. But how prevail'd you?

Mar. Will the time ſerve to tell, I do not thinke:

Where is the enemy? Are you Lords at' Field?

If not, why ceafe you till you are for?

Com. *Martius*, we have at diſadvantage ſought,

And did retyre to win our propofe.

Mar. How lies their Battle? Know you on what ſide
They have plac'd their men of truſt?

Com. As I gueſſe *Martius*,

Their Bands I'ch Vaward are the Antients
Of their beſt truſt: O're them *Auffidius*,

Their very heart of Hope.

Mar. I do beſeeth you,

By all the Battailles wherein we have ſought,
By th' blood we have ſhed together,

By th' Vowes we have made

To endure Friends, that you directly ſet me

Against *Auffidius*, and his *Antients*,

And that you not delay the prefent (but

Filling the aire with Swords advanc'd) and Darts,
We prove this very houre.

Com. Though I could wifh,

You were conducted to a gentle Bath,

And Balmes applied to you, yet dare I never

Deny your asking, take your choice of thofe
That beſt can ayde your action.

Mar. Thofe are they?

That moſt are willing; if any ſuch be here?

(As it were ſinne to doone) that love this painting

Wherein you fee me linear'd, if any ſtare

Leſſen his perſon, then an ill report:

If any thinke, brave death out-weighs bad life,

And that his Countries deerer then himſelfe,

Let him alone: Or ſo many ſo minded,

Wave this to expreſſe his diſpoſition,

And follow *Martius*.

They all ſloint and wave their Swords, take him up in their
Armes, and caſt up their Caps.

Oh me alone, make you a ſword 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 *Auffidius*.

A Shiels, as hard as his. A certaine number

(Though thankeſ to all) muſt I ſeleſſ from all: ~~27~~

The reſt shall beare the bufineſſe in ſome other fight

(As cauſe will be obey'd:) pлеaſe you to Martiſ,

And ſoure ſhall quickly draw out my Command,

Which men are beſt inclin'd.

Com. Martch on my Fellows:

Make good this oftenation, and you ſhall

Divide in all, w ith us.

Exeunt.

Titus Lartius, having ſet a guard upon Coriolus, going with
Drum and Trumpet toward Cominthus, and Causes Martiſ,
Enters with a Lieutenant, other Souldiers, and a
Scout.

Lar. So, let the Ports be guarded; keepe your Duties

As I have ſet them downe. If I doſend, diſpatch

Thofe Centuries to our ayd, the reſt will ſerve

For a ſhort holding, if we looke the Field,

We'cannot keepe the Towne.

Lieu. I'care not our care Sir.

Lar. Hence; and flut your gates upon's:

Our Guider come, to th' Roman Campe conduct us. Exit.

Alarums, as in Battaille.

Enter *Martius* and *Auffidius* at ſeverall doores.

Mar. Ile fight with none but thee, for I do hate thee

Worſe then a Promife-breaker.

Ane. We hate alike:

Not Affrike owneſ a Serpent I abhorre

More then thy Fame and Enuy: Fix thy foot.

Mar. Let the firſt Budger dye the others Slave,

And the Gods doome him after.

Ane. If I flye *Martius*, hollow me like a Hare.

Mar. Within theſe three hours *Tullus*

Alone I ſought in your *Coriolus* walles,

And made what worke I pлас'd: Tis not my blood,

Wherein thou ſeeth me maskt, for thy Revenge

Wrench up thy power to th' higheſt.

Ane. Wer't thou the Heſtor,

That was the whip of your bragg'd Progeny.

Thou ſhouldst not ſcape me here.

Heere they fight, and certaine Volces come in the ayde of
Auffid. *Martius* fight's til they be driven in breathles,

O ſlicious and not valiant, you have ſham'd me

In your condemned Seconds.

Floribth

36

The Tragedy of Coriolanus.

Flourish.
Alarum. A Retreat is founded. Enter at
one Doore Cominus, 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'nt believe thy deeds; but I report it,
Where Senators shall mingle teares with Smiles,
Where great Patricians shall attend, and flrang,
Pth'end admire: where Ladies shall be frighted,
And gladly quak'd, beare more: where the dull Tribunes,
That with the fufty Plebeans, hate thine Honors,
Shall fyay againft their hearts, We thanke the Gods
Our Rome hath such a Souldier.
Yet cam't thou to a Morfall of this Feale,
Having fully din'd before.

Enter Titus and his Power from the Parisis.

Titus Lartius. Oh Generall:
Here is the Steed, wee the Caparifon:
Hadft thou behold—

Mar. Pray now, no more:

My Mother, who ha's a Charter to extoll her Bloud,
When she do's prafie me, grieves me:
I have done as you have done, that's what I can,
Induc'd as you have beene, that's for my Country:
He that ha's but effected his good will,
Hath overta'n mine Act.

Com. You shall not be the Grave of your deferving,
Rome muft know the value of her owne:
Twere a Concealement worfe then a Theft,
No leſſe then a Traducaſtment,
To hide your doings, and to ſilence that,
Which to the ſpire, and top of praſes vouch'd,
Would ſeeme but moded: therefore I befech you,
In ſigne of what you are, not to reward
What you have done, before our Army heare me.

Mar. I have ſone Wounds upon me, and they ſmarte
To heare themſelves remembred.

Com. Should they not:
Well might they feſter 'gainſt Ingratitude,
And tent themſelves with death: of all the Horſes,
Whereof we have ta'n good, and good ſtore of all,
The Threafure in this field atchieved, and City,
We render you the Tenth, to be ta'n forth,
Before the common diſtribution,
At your only choife.

Mar. I thanke you Generall:
But cannot make my heart confent to take
A Briſe, to pay my Sword: I doe ſeref it,
And ſtand upon my common part with thofe,
That have beheld the doing.

A long flouris. They all cry, Martius, Martius,
craft up their Caps and Launces: Cominius
and Lartius ſt and bare.

Ma. May theſe fame Inſtruments, which you propheane.
Never found more: when Drums and Trumpers ſhall
I'ch'field prove flatterers, let Cours and Cities be
Made all of falſe-fac'd ſoofing:
When Steele growes ſoft, as the Paraſites Silke,
Let him be made an Overture for th'Warres:
No more I ſay, for that I have not waſh'd

My Noſe that bled, or ſoyld: ſome debile. Wretch,
Which without note, here's many ſelfe have done,
You ſhoot me forth in acclamations hyperbolical,
As if I'lov'd my little ſhould be dieted.
In prayſes, law'd it with Lies.

Com. Too moded are you:

More cruell to your good report, then grateful
Tous, that give you truly by your patience,
If againſt your ſelfe you be incens'd, wee le put you
(Like one that means his proper harme) in Manacles,
Then reaſon faſely with you: Therefore be it knowne,
Asto us, to all the World, That Cains Martius
Weares this Warſes Garland in token of the which,
My Noble Steed, knowne to the Campe, I give him,
With all his trim belonging, and from this time,
For what he did before Coriolus, call him,
With all th'applaſe and Clamor of the Hoaſt.

Marcus Causus Coriolanus. Beare th'ddition Nobly ever?
Flourish, Trumpets found, and Drums,

Omnes. Marcus Causus Coriolanus.

Mar. I will goe waſh:

And when my Face is faire, you ſhall perceive
Whether I bluſh, or no: howbeit, I thanke you,
I meane to ſlride your Steed, and at all times
To under-creſt your good Addition,
To th' faireneſſe of my power.

Com. So, to our Tent:

Whereere we doe repofe us, we will write
To Rome of our ſuccesſe: you Titus Lartius
Muſt to Coriolus backe, tend us to Rome
The beſt, with whom we may articulate,
For their owne good, and ours.

Lar. I ſhall, my Lord.

Mar. The Gods begin to mocke me:
I that now refus'd moſt Princely gifts,
Am bound to begge of my Lord Generall.

Com. Tak't, tis yours: what is't?

Mar. I ſometime lay here in Coriolus,
At a poore mans houſe: he us'd me kindly,
He cry'd to me: I law him Přifoner:
But then Auffidius was within my view,
And Wrath o're-whelm'd my pitty: I requeſt you
To give my poore Hoſt freedome.

Com. Oh well begg'd:

Were he the Butcher of my Sonne, he ſhould
Be free, as is the Winde: deliver him, Titus.

Lart. Martius, his Name.

Mar. By Iupiter ſorgot:

I am weary, yca my memory is tyr'd:
Have we no Wine here?

Com. Goe to our Tent:

The blond upon your Vifage dryes, tis time
It ſhould be lookt to: come.

E Kennt.

A flouris. Cornets. Enter Tullus Auffidius
blondy, with two or three Souldiers.

Au. The Towne is ta'ne,

Soul. Twill be deliver'd backe on good Condition.
Aſſ. Condition?

I would I were a Roman, for I cannot,
Being a Ponce, be, that I am: Condition?
What good Condition can a Treaty finde
I'ch't part that is at mercy? five times, Martius,
I have fought with thee; ſo often haſt thou beat me:
And would it doe ſo, I thinke, ſhould we encounter

As

And often
If ere aga
He's min
Hath no
I though
True Su
Or wra
Sol. Af
With on
Shall fly
Being n
The Pra
Embar
Their r
My hat
At hom
Againſt
Wath m
Leare h
Be Hoft
Sol. Af
(Tis So
How th
I may ſ
Sol. I

Men.
night.
Bru.
Men.
they lov
Sin.
Men.
Sin.
Men.
the No
Bru.
Men.
You tw
you.
Both.
Men.
two ha
Bru.
Sin.
Bru.
Men.
you ar
hand F
Both.
Men.
be ang
Both.
Men.
of Oc

The Tragedy of Coriolanus.

37

And often as we eat. By the Elements,
If ere againe I meet him beard to beard,
He's mine, or I am his : Mine Emulation
Hath not that honor in't it had : For where
I thought to crush him in an equall Force,
True Sword to Sword : Hee potche at him fome way,
Or wrath, or Craft may get him.

Sol. He's the divell.

Auf. Bolder, though not so fubtle: my valors poifon'd,
With only suffring thaine by him : for him
Shall flye out of it selfe, nor sleepe, nor fanctuary,
Being naked, ficle; nor Phane, nor Capitoll,
The Prayers of Priefts, nor times of Sacrifice :
Embarquements all of Fury, shall lift up
Their rotten Priveledge, and Cuftome 'gainft
My hate to Martinis. Where I finde him, were it
At home, upon my brothers Guard, even there
Againft the hotpitable Canon, would I
Wath my fierce band in's heart. Goe you to th'City,
Leame how 'tis held, and what they are that muft
Be Hoftages for Rome.

Sol. Will not you goe?

Auf. I am attended at the Cyprus grove. I pray you
(Tis South the City Miss) bring me word thither
How the world goes : that to the pace of it
I may spurre on my journey.

Sol: I shall fir.

Actus Secundus.

Enter Menenius with the two Tribunes of the
people, Sicinus & Brutus.

Men. The Augurer tells me, we shall have Newes to
night.

Bru. Good or bad?

Men. Not according to the prayer of the people, for
they love not Martinis.

Sicin. Nature teaches Beaufs to know their friends.

Men. Pray you, who does the Wolfe love?

Sicin. The Lambe.

Men. I, to devour him, as the hungry Plebeians would
the Noble Martinis:

Bru. He's a Lambe indeed, that baes like a Beare.

Men. He's a Beare indeed, that lives like a Lambe.

You two are old men, tell me one thing that I fhallaske
you.

Both. Well fir.

Men. In what enormity is Martinus poore in, that you
two have not in abundance?

Bru. He's poore in no one fault, but for't withall.

Sicin. Efpecially in Pride.

Bru. And topping all others in boast.

Men. This is ſtrange now : Doe you two know, how
you are cenſured here in the City, I meane of us a right
hand File, doe you ?

Both. Why ? how are we cenſur'd?

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 theſee
of Occafion, will rob yov of a great deale of Patience:

Give your diſpoſitions the reines, and be angry at your
pleatures (at the leaſt) if you take it as a pleasure to you,
in being ſo; you blame Martinus for being proud.

Bru. We doe it not alone, fir.

Men. I know you can doe very little alone, for your
helpes are many, or else your actions would grow won-
drous single: your abilities are too Infant-like, for doing
much alone. You talke of Pride: Oh, that you could turne
your eyes toward the Napes of your neckes, and make
but an interieur ſurvey of your good ſelves. Oh that you
could!

Both. What then fir?

Men. Why then you ſhould diſcover a brace of un-
meriting, proud, violent, teſtly 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 loves a cup of hot Wine, with not a drop of alay-
ing Tiber in't: Said, to be fomething imperfect in favour-
ing the firſt complaint, haſty and Tinder-like upon, to
trivial motion: One that converſes more with the But-
tocke of the night, then with the forehead of the mor-
ning. What I thinke, I utter, and ſpend my malice in my
breath. Meeting two ſuch Weales men as you are (I can-
not call your Lichnoguſſes) if the drinke you give me, touch
my Palat adveſily, I make a crooked face at it. I can ſay,
your Worſhipps have deliver'd the matter well, when
I finde the Aſſe in compound, with the Major part of
your ſyllables. And though I muſt be content to beare
with thofe, that ſay you are reverend grave, yet they lye
deadly, that tell you have good faces; if you ſee this in
the Map of my Microcoſme, followes it that I am known
well enough too ? What harme can your beefeome Con-
fpectuities gleane out of this Charaſter, if I be knowne
well enough too?

Bru. Come fir come, we know you will enough.

Men. You know neither me, your ſelves, nor any
thing: you are ambitious, for poore knaves cappes and
legges: you weare out a good wholeſome Forenooke, in
hearing a cauſe betweene an Orendge wife, and a Forſet-
feller, and then rejourne the Controverſie of three-pence
to a ſeconſd day of Audience. When you are hearing a
matter betweene party and party, if you chance to bee
pineſ'd with the Collicke: you make faces like Mum-
mers, ſet up the bloody Flagge againſt all Patience, and
inroaring for a Chamber-port, diſmitle the Controverſie
bleeding, the more intangled by your hearing: All the
peace you make in their Caſe, is calling both the parties
Knaves. You are a payre of ſtrange ones.

Bru. Come, come, you are well underſood to be a
perfecter gyber for the Table, then a neceſſary Bencher
in the Capitoll.

Men. Our very Priefts muſt become Mockers, if they
ſhall encounter ſuch ridiculous Subjects as you are, when
you ſpeake beſt unto the purpofe. It is not worth the
wagging of your Beards, and your Beards defer not ſo
honorable a grave, as to ſtuffe a Botchers Cuſhion, or to
be intomb'd in an Aſſes Packer-faddle; yet you muſt bee
faying, Martinus is proud: who in a cheape effimation, is
worth all your predeceſſors, ſince Denecation, though per-
adventure ſome of the beſt of 'em were hereditary, hang-
men. God den to your Worſhips, more of your conver-
fation would inſect my braine, being the Heardſmen of
the Beaſtly Plebeians. I will be bold to take my leave of
you.

Brutus, and Sicinus.

dd

Aſſid.

Enter

As

The Tragedy of Coriolanus.

Enter Volumnia, and Valeria.

How now (my as faire as Noble )Ladies, and the Moone
were fhe Earthly, no Nobler; whither doe you follow
your Eyes so faft?

Volum. Honorable Menenius, my Boy Martius appre-
ches: for the love of Iuno let's goe.

Menen. Ha? Martius comming home?

Volum. I, worthy Menenius, and with moft prosperous approbation.

Menen., Take my Cappe Iupitъ, 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 Wite 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 faw't.

Menen. A Letter for me ? it gives me an Estate of ſeven yeeres health; in which time, I will make a Lippe at the Phyfian: The moſt ſoveraigne Preſcription in Galen, is but Emperickquique ; and to this Preſervative, of no better report then a Horſe-drench. Is he not wounded ? he was want to come home wounded?

Virgil. Oh no, no, no.

Volum. Oh, he is wounded, I thanke the gods for't.

Menen. So doe I too, if it be not too much: brings a
Vicorie in his Pocket? the wounds become him.

Volum. On's Browes: Menenius, he comes the third time home with the Oaken 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 ſtay'd by him, I wold not have beene ſo fiddious'd, for all the Cheſts in Coriolus, 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 he gives 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 with-
out his true purchaſing.

Virgil. The gods grant them true.

Volum. True ? pow waw.

Mene. True ? Ile be ſworne they are true: where is
he wounded, God ſave your good Worſhips? Martius
is comming home: he ha's more caufe to be prowd:
where is he wounded?

Volum. Ith' Shouldier, and ith'left Arme: there will be
large Cicatrices to ſhow the People, when he ſhall ſtand
for his place: he received in the repulſe of Tarquin ſeven
hurts ith'Body.

Men. One iſt'Necke, and two iſt'Thigh, there's nine that I know,

Volum. He had, before this laſt Expedition, twenty
five Wounds upon him.

Men. Now it's twenty ſeven; every gafh was an E-
nemies Grave, Hearke, the Trumpets.

A ſhow, and Flourish.

Volum. Theſe are the V ſhers of Martius:
Before him, he carryes Noyſe;
And behinde him, he leaves Teares:

Death, that darke Spirit, in's nervy Arme doth lye,
Which being advanc'd, declines, and then men dye.

A Sonet. Trumpets found.

Enter Cominius the Generall, and Titus Lartius: betweene
them Coriolanus, crown'd with an Oaken
Garland, with Captaines and Soul-
diert, and a Herauld.

Hera. Know Rome, that all alone Martius did fight
Within Coriolus Gates: where he hath wonne,
With Fame, a Name to Martius Cains:
Thefe in honor followes Martius Cains, Coriolanus.
Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus.

Sound. Flourish.

All. Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus,
Corio. No more of this, it does offend my heart; pray
now no more.

Com. Looke, Sir, your Mother.

Corio. Oh ! you have, I know, petition'd all the gods for my prosperity.

Kneele's.

Volum. Nay, my good Souldier, up :
My gentle Martius, worthy Cains,
And by deed-achieving Honor newly nam'd,
What is it (Coriolanus) muſt I call thee?
But oh, thy Wife.

Corio. My gracious ſilence, hayle :
Would'ſt thou have laugh'd, had I come Coſſin'd home,
That weep'd to fee me triumph ? Ah my deare,
Such eyes the Widowes in Coriolus weare,
And Mothers that lacke Sonnes.

Men. Now the gods Crowne thee.

Com. And live you yet ? Oh my sweet Lady, pardon.

Volum. I know not where to turne.

Oh welcome home: and welcome Generall,
And y're welcome all.

Men. A hundred thouand Welcomes:

I could weepe, and I could laugh,
I am light, and heavy; welcome :
A Curſe begmat on very root on's heart,
That is not glad to fee thee.

You are three, that Rome should dore on :

Yet by the faith of men, we have
Some old Crab-trees here at home,

That will not be grafted to your Rellifh.

Yet welcome Warriors :

We call a Nettle, but a Nettle ;

And the faults of fooles, but folly.

Com. Ever right.

Cor. Menenius, ever, ever.

Hera. Give way there, and goe on.

Cor. Your Hand, and yours ?

Ere in our owne houſe I doe thade my head,
The good Patricians muſt be vifited,
From whom I have receiv'd not only greeſings,
But with them, change of honors.

Volum. I have lived,

To fee inherited my very Wifhes,
And the Buildings of my Fancy :
Onely there's one thing wanting,
Which (I doubt not) but our Rome
Will caſt upon thee.

Cor. Know, good Mother,
I had rather be their ſervant in my way,
Ten ſway with them in theirs.

Com. On, to the Capitoll.

Flourish. Cornett.

Exeunt in State, as before.

Enter

The Tragedy of Coriolanus.

Enter Brutus and Sicinius.

Brutus. All tongues fpeake of him, and the bleared fightes
Are spectacled to fee him. Your pratling Nurfe
Into a rapture lets her Baby cry,
While she chats him : the Kitchin Malkin pinnes
Her richet Lockram 'bout her reechy necke,
Clambring the Walls to eye him :
Stalls, Bulkes, Windows, are mother'd up,
Leades fill'd, and Ridges hors'd
With variable Complexions ; all agreeing
In earlefnefle to fee him : field-Howne Flamins :
Doe prefle among the popular Throngs, and puffe
To winne a vulgar ftation : our veyl'D Dames
Commit the Warre of White and Damaske
In their nicely gawded Cheekes, toth'wanton fpoyle
Of Phobus burning Kiffes : fuch a poother,
As if that whatfoever God, who leades him,
Werefly crept into his humane powers,
And gave him gracefull poſture.

Sicum. On the fuddaine, I warrant him Confull.

Bru. Then our Oſſice may, during his powers, goe
fleece.

Sici. He cannot temp'rately transport his honors,
From where he should begin, and end, but will
Loe thofe he hath wonne.

Bru. In that there's comfort.

Sicin. 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 give them, make I as little queſtion,
As he is prowd to doo't.

Bru. I heard him ſware

Were he to ſtand for Confull, never would he
Appeare i'th'Market place, nor on him put
The Naples Vefture of humility,
Nor ſhewing (as the manner is) his Wounds
Toth'people, begge their ſinking Breaths.

Sicin. 'Tis right.

Bru. It was his word :

Oh he would miffe it, rather then carry it,
But by the ſuite of the Gentry to him,
And the defire of the Nobles.

Sici. I wifh no better, then have him hold that pur-
poſe, and to put it in execution.

Bru. 'Tis moſt like he will.

Sici. It ſhall be to him then, as our good wills; a ſure
deftruſion.

Bru. So it muſt fall out

To him, or our Authoritics, for an end.
We muſt fuffeſt the People, in what hatred
He full hath held them : that to's power he would
Have made them Mules, filenc'd their Pleaders,
And diſproportioned their Freedomes; holding them,
In humane Action, and Capacity,
Of no more Soule, nor fitneſſe for the world,
Then Cammels in their Warre, who have their Provand
Onely for bearing Burthens, and fore blowes
For finking under them.

Sici. This (as you ſay) fuffeſted,
At ſome time, when his foaring inſolence
Shall teach the People, which time (shall not want,
If he be put upon't, and that's as eafie,
As to let Dogges on Sheepe, will be his fire

To kindle their dry Stubble : and their Blaze
Shall darken him for ever.

Enter a Messanger.

Bru. What's the matter ?

Mess. You are ſent for to the Capitall :
'Tis thought, that Martius ſhall be Confull :
I have ſene the dumbe men throng to fee him,
And the blind to heare him ſpeak: Matrons ſlong Gloves,
Ladies and Maids their Scarfies, and Handkersches,
Vpon him as he pafs'd : the Nobles bended
As to Iovs Statue, and the Commons made
A Shower, and Thunder, with their Caps, and Showts :
I never ſaw the like.

Bru. Let's to the Capitoll,
And carry with us eares and eyes forth'time,
But hearts for the event.

Sici. Have with you.

Exceto.

Enter two Officers, to lay Cuffions, as it were,
in the Capitall.

1. Off. Come, come, they are almost here: how many
ſtand for Confulſhips?

2. Off. Three, they ſay: but 'tis thought of every one
Coriolanus will carry it.

1. Off. That's a brave fellow: but he's vengeance prouſe,
and loves not the common people.

2. Off. 'Faith, there hath beene many great men that,
have flatter'd the people, who ne're loved them; and there
be many that they have loved, they know not wherefore:
fo that if they love they know nor why, they hate upon
no better a ground. Therefore, for Coriolanus neither to
care whether they love, or hate him, manifeets the true
knowledge he ha's in their diſpoſition, and out of his No-
ble carelefneſſe lets them plainely fee't.

1. Off. If he did not care whether he had their love, or
no, he waved indifferently, 'twixt doing them neither
good, nor harme: but he feekes their hate with greater
devotion, then they can render it him; and leaves nothing
undone, that may fully dilcover him their oppoſite. Now
to feeme to affect the mallice and diſpleasure of the Peo-
ple, is as bad, as that which he diſlikes, to flatter them
for their love.

2. Off. He hath deferred worthily of his Countrey,
and his aſcent is not by ſuch eafie degrees as thofe, who
having beene ſuple and courteous to the People, Bon-
netted, without any further deed, to have them at all into
their efftimation, and report : but he hath ſo planted his
honors in their Eyes, and his actions in their hearts, that
for their Tongues to be filent, and not conſeſſe ſo much,
were a kinde of ingratefull injury : to report other wife,
were a Malice, that giving it ſelfe the Lye, would plucke
reproofe and rebuke from every Eare that heard it.

1. Off. No more of him, he's a worthy man : make
way, they are comming,

A Sonnet. Enter the Patricians, and the Tribunes of
the People, Lictors before them; Coriolanus, Me-
nemus, Cominius the Confull; Sicinius and
Brutus take their places by themselves:
Coriolanus flands.

Men. Having determin'd of the Volces,
And to ſend for Titus Lartius : it remains,
As the maine Point of this our after-meeting,

dd 2

To

The Tragedy of Coriolanus.

40

To gratifie his Noble ſervice; that hath
Thus ſlood for his Country. Therefor plesce you;
Moſt reverend and grave Elders, to deſire
The pſent Conſull, and laſt Generall,
In onr well-found Succesſes, to report
A little of that worthy Worke, perform'd
By Martius Cāuis Coriolanus : whom
We met here, both to thanke, and to remember,
With honors like himſeſe.

1. Sen. Speake, good Cominius :

Leave nothing out for length, and make us think
Rather our ſtates defective for requitall,
Then we to ſtretch it out. Maſters a' th' People,
We doe requeſt your kindſt eare : and after
Your loving motion toward the common Body,
To yeeld what paffes here.

Sicin, We are convened upon a pleasing Treaty, and
have hearts inclinable to honor and advance the Theame
of our Affembly.

Brus. Which the rather we ſhall be bleſt to doe, if he
remember a kinder value of the People, then he hath here-
to priz'd them at.

Men. That's off, that's off: I would you rather had
been ſilent: Pleaſe you to heare Cominius ſpeake?

Brn. Moſt willingly: but yet my Caution was more
pertinent then the rebuke you give it.

Men. He loves your People, but tye him not to be
their Bedſellow: Worthy Cominius ſpeake.

Coriolanus ríſes, and offers to goe away.

Nay, keepe your place.

Senas. Sir Coriolanus : never ſhame to ſiare
What you have Nobly done.

Corio. Your honors pardon :

I had rather have my Wounds to heale againe,
Then heare ſay how I got them.

Brn. Sir, I hope my words dis-bench'd you not?

Corio. No Sir : yes oft,

When blowes have made me ſlay, I fled from words.
You footh'd not, therefore hurt not : but your people,
I love them as they weigh—

Men. Pray now fit downe.

Corio. I had rather have one ſcratch my Head i' th'Sun,
When the Alarum were ſtruck, then idly ſit

To heare my Nothings monſter'd.

Exis Coriolanus.

Men. Maſters of the People,

Your multiplying Spawne, how can he flatter ?
That's thouſand 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
Sould not be utter'd feebly : it is held,

That Valour is the chiefest Vertue, And
Moſt dignifies the haver : if it be,
The man I ſpeake of, cannot in the World
Be fingly 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 prieſe I point at, ſaw him fight,
When with his Amazonian Shinne he drove

The brizled Lippes before him : he beſtrid
An o're-preſt Roman, and i' th' Conſuls view
Slew three Oppofers : Tarquin's ſelſe he met,
And ſtrueke him on his Knee : in that dayes ſeates,
When he might aſt the Woman in the Scene,
He prov'd beſt man i' th' field, and for his meed
Was Brow-bound with the Oake. His Pupil-age

Man-entred thus, he wated like a Sea,

And in the brunt of ſeventeene Battaltes ſince,
He lurcht all Swords o' th' Garland : for this laſt,
Before, and in Coriolus, let me ſay

I cannot ſpeake him home : he ſlopt the ſlyers,

And by his rare example made the Coward

Turne terror into ſport : as Waves before

A Veffell under ſayle, ſo men obey'd,

And fell below his Stern : his Sword (Deaths ſtampe)

Where it did marke, it tooke from faceto foot:

He was a thing of Blood, whoſe every motion

Was trim'd with dying Cryes : alone he entred

The mortall Gate o' th' City, which he painted

With ſhunleſſe defamy : aydeſſe came off.

And with a ſudden re-inſforcement ſtrucke

Cariolus like a Planet : now all's this,

When by and by the dinne of Warre gan pierce

His ready ſence : then ſtraight his doubled ſpirit

Requickned what in ſleſh was fatigate,

And to the Battaille came he, where he did

Runne recking o're the lives of men, as if

'Twere a perpetuo ſpoyle ; and till we call'd

Both field and City ours, he never ſlood

To eafe his breſt with painting.

Men. Worthy man.

Senat. Hee cannot but with meaſure ſit the honours
which we devife him.

Com. Our ſpoyles he kickt at,

And look'd upon things precious, as they were
The common Mücke o' th' World : he covets leſſe
Then Mifery it ſelſe would give, rewards his deeds
With doing them, and is content

To ſpend the time, to end it.

Men. He's righe Noble, let him be called for:

Senat. Call Coriolanus.

Off. He doth appeare.

Enter Coriolanus.

Men. The Senate, Coriolanus, are well pleas'd to make
thee Conſull.

Corio. I doe owe them ſtill my life, and Services.

Men. It then remains, that you doe ſpeake to the
People.

Corio. I doe beſeeth 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.

Sicin. Sir, the People muſt have their Voyces, :'
Neither will they bate one jot of Ceremony.

Men. Put them not too't:
Pray you goe fit you to the Cuſtome,
And take to you, as your Predeceſſors have,
Your honor with your forme.

Corio. It is a part that I ſhall bluſh in aſting,
And might well be taken from the People.

Bru. Marke you that.

Corio. To brag unto them, thus I did, and thus
Shew them th'unaking Skarres, which I ſhould hide;
As if I had receiv'd them for the hyre
Of their breath only.

Men. Doe not ſand upon't :
We recommend to you Tridunes of the People:
Our purpofe to them, and to our Noble Conſull
Wifh we all Ioy, and honor'

Senat.

The Tragedy of Coriolanus.

42

Their needleſſe Vouches: Cuffome calls me toot.
What Cuffome wills in all things, ſhould we doot ?
The Duſt on antique Time would lye unſwept,
And mountainous Error be too highly heaſt,
For Truth to o're-peere. Rather then ſoole it ſo,
Let the high Office and the Honor goe
To one that would doe thus. I am halſe through,
The one part ſuffered, the other will I doe.

*Enter three Citizens more.*

Here come moe Voyces.
Your Voyces ? for your Voyces I have ſought,
Watcht for your Voyces : for your Voyces, beare
Of Wounds, two dozen odde : Battailles thrice ſix
I have ſeene, and heard of : for your voyces,
Have done many things, ſome leſſe, ſome more :
Your Voyces ? indeed I would be Conſull.

1. Cit. He ha's 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 fave thee, Noble Conſull.

Corio. Worthy Voyces.

*Enter Menenius, with Brutus and Sicinus.*

Men. You have flood your Limitation :
And the Tribunes endue you with the Peoples Voyce,
Remaines, that in th' Officiall Markes inſevetd,
You anon doe meet the Senate.

Corio. Is this done ?

Sicis. The Cuffome of Requeſt you have diſcharg'd :
The People doe admit you and are ſummion'd
To meet anon, upon your approbation.

Corio. Where ? at the Senate-houſe ?

Sicis. There, Coriolanus.

Corio. May I change theſe Garments ?

Sicin. You may Sir.

Corio. That Ile ſtraight do: and knowing my ſelſe againe
Repaye toth' Senate-houſe.

Men. Ile keepe you company. Will you along?

Bru. We ſtay here for the People.

Sicin. Fare you well.

Exeunt Coriol. and Men.

He ha's it now: and by his Lookes, me thinkes,
'Tis warme at's heart.

Bru. With a proud heart he wore his humble Weeds:
Will you diſmife the People ?

*Enter the Plebeians.*

Sicis. How now, my Maſters, have you choſe this man?
I Cit. He ha's our Voyces, Sir.

Bru. We pray the Gods, he may deferve your loves.

2. Cit. Amen, Sir: to my poore unworthy notice,
He mock'd us, when he begg'd our Voyces.

3. Cit. Certainly, he flowted us downe-right.

1. Cit. No, tis his kind of ſpeech, he did not mocke us.

2. Cit. Not one amongst us, fave your ſelfe, but fayes.
He us'd us ſcornefully: he ſhould have ſhew'd us

His Markes of Merit, Wounds receiv'd for's Countrey.

Sicin. Why ſo he did, I am ſure.

All. No, no: no man law 'em.

3. Cit. He faid he had Wounds,

Which he could ſhew in private :
And with his Hat, thus waving it in ſcorne,
I would be Conſull, fayes he : aged Cuffome,
But by your Voyces, will not ſo permit me.

Your Voyces therefore: when we granted that,
Here was, I thanke you for your Voyces, thankeyou

Your moſt sweet Voyces: now you have left your Voyces
I have no further with you. Was not this mockery ?

Sicin. Why either were you ignorant to fee't?
Or feeing it, of ſuch Childſaſh friendlineſſe,
To yeeld your Voyces ?

Bru. Could you not have told him,
As you were leſſon'd; When he had no Power,
But was a petty ſervant to the State,
He was your Enemy, everpake againſt
Your Liberties, and the Charters that you beare
I'ch' Body of the Weale: and now arriving
A place of Potency, and ſway o'th' State
If he ſhould ſtill malignantly remaine
Aft Foe toth' Plebeij, your Voyces might
Be Curſes to your ſelves. You ſhould have faid,
That as his worthy deeds did clayme no leſſe
Then what he flood for: ſo his gracious nature
Would thinke upon you, for your Voyces, and
Translate his Malice towards you, into Love,
Standing your friendly Lord.

Sicin. Thus to have faid,
As you were fore-advised, had toucht his Spirit,
And try'd his inclination: from him pluckt,
Either his gracious Promife, which you might
As caufe had call'd you up, have held him to :
Or eſſe it would have gall'd his ſurly nature :
Which eafily endures not Article,
Tying him to ought, ſo putting him to Rage,
You ſhould have ta'ne th'advantage of his Choller,
And pafs'd him unelected.

Bru. Did you perceive,
He did ſollicite you in free Contempt.
When he did need your Loves: and doe 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
Against the Rectorship of judgement ?

Sicin. Have you, ere now, deny'd the asker :
And now againe, of him that did not aske, but mocke,
Beflow your ſu'd-for Tongues?

3. Cit. He's not confirm'd, we may deny him yet,
2. Cit. And will deny him:

Ile have five hundred Voyces of that found,
1. Cit. It twice five hundred, & their friends, to piece 'em
Bru. Get you hence, inſantly, and tell theſe friends,
They have 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.

Sicin. Let them affemble: and on a ſafer jugement,
All revoke his ignorant election: Enforce his Pride,
And his old Hate unto you: beſides, forget not
With what Contempt he wore the humble Weed.
How in his Suit he ſcorn'd you: but your Loves,
Thinking upon his Services, tooke from you
Th' apprehenſion of his preſent portance,
Which moſt gibingly, ungravely, he did ſad fashion
After the inverte rate Hate he beares you.

Bru. Lay a fault on us, your Tribunes,
That we labour'd (no impediment betweene)
But that you muſt caſt your Election on him.

Sicin. Say you choſe him, more after our commandment,
Then as guided by your owne true affections, and that
Your minds pre-occupied with what you rather muſt do
Then what you ſhould made you againſt the graine
To Voyce him Conſull. Lay the fault on us.

Brut.

Bru.
How you
How loo
The No
That A
Who a
Of the
That ou
And No
Was hi
Sicin.
That ha
to be
To your
Skaling
That he
Your tu
Bru.
(Harpe
And pr
Repair)
All

Bru.
This M
Then ſo
If, as h
With the
Sicin.
We wu
And th
Which

Coriolanus
Lar.
Our ſa
Ready
Vpon
Com
That
Their
Coriolanus
Again
Yeeld
Coriolanus
Lar.
Coriolanus
Lar.
That
Your
To ho
Be ca
Coriolanus
Lar.
Coriolanus
To o

Beho
The

The Tragedy of Coriolanus.

43

Bri. I, spare us not: Say, we read Lectures to you,
How youngly he began to ferve his Country,
How long continued, and what flocke he springs of,
The Noble houfe o'th'Martians: from whence came
That Ancus Martius, Numæs Daughters Sonne:
Who after great Hōstius here was King,
Of the fame houſe Publius and Quintus were,
That our beſt Water, brought by Conduits hither,
And Nobly nam'd, fo twice being Cenfor,
Was his great Anceſtor.

Sic. 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 have found,
Skiing his preſent, bearing with his paſt,
That he's your fixed enemyp; and revoke
Your tuddaine approbation.

Bri. Say you ne're had don't,

(Harpe on that ſkill) but by our putting on:
And preſently, when you have drawne your number,
Repaire toth'Capitoll.

A. We will ſo: almoſt all repent in their election.

Exeunt Plebeians.

Bri. Let them goe on:

This Mutiny were better put in hazard,

Then ſay paſt doubt, for greater :

If, as his nature is, he fall in rage

With their reſuſall, both obſerve and anſwer

The vantage of his anger.

Sic. Toth'Capitoll, come :

We will be there before the ſtrcane o'th'People :

And this ſhall ſeeme, as partly 'tis, their owne,

Which we have goaded on-ward.

Exeunt.

## Actus Tertius.

Cormets. Enter Coriolanus, Menenius, all the Gentry,
Cominius Titus Lartius, and other Senators.

Corio. Twelues Auffidius then had made new head.

Lart. He had my Lord, and that it was which cauſ'd
Our ſwifter Compoſition.

Corio. So then the Volces stand but as at firſt,

Reddy 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 ſee

Their Banners wave againe.

Corio. Saw you Auffidius ?

Lart. On ſafegard he came to me, and did curſe

Againſt the Volces, for they had ſo vildly

Yielded the Towne: he is reſtyred to Antium,

Corio. Spoke he of me?

Lart. He did, my Lord.

Corio. How ? what ?

Lart. How often he had met you Sword to Sword :
That of all things upon 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 lives he ?

Lart. At Antium.

Corio. I with him had a cauſe to feeke him there,
To oppoſe his hatred fully. Welcome home.

Enter Sicinius, and Brutus.

Behold, theſe are the Tribunes of the People,

The Tongues o'th'Common Mouth, I doe deſpife them :

For they doe pranke them in Authority;

Aginſt all Noble ſufferance.

Sicin. Paffe no further.

Corio. Hah? what is that ?

Bri. It will be dangerous to goe on-No further.

Corio. What makes this change ?

Men. The matter ?

Com. Hath he not paſs'd the Noble, and the Commons?

Bri. Cominius, no.

Corio. Have I had Childrens Voyces?

Senat. Tribunes give way, he ſhall toth' Market place,

Bri. The People are incens'd againſt him.

Sicin. Stop, or all will fall in broyle.

Corio. Are theſe your heard ?

Muſt theſe have Voyces, that can yeeld them now,
And ſtraight diſclaim their tongs? what are your Offices

You being their Mouthes, why rule you not their Teeth?

Have you not ſet them on ?

Men. Be calme, be calme.

Corio Itis a purpòs'd thing, and growes by Plot,

To curbe the will of the Nobility :

Suffer't, and live with ſuch as cannot rule,

Nor ever will be ruled.

Bri. Call't not a Plot :

The People cry you mockt them: and of late,
When Corne was given them grati, you repin'd,

Scandall'd the Suppliants: for the People, calld them
Time-pleaſers, flatterers, foes to Noblenſe.

Corio. Why this was knowne before.

Bri. Not to them all.

Corio. Have you inſormed them ſithence ?

Bri. How ? I inſorme them ?

Com. You are like to doe ſuch buſineſſe.

Bri. Not unlike each way to better yours.

Corio. Why then ſhould I be Conſull ? by yond Clouds

Let me deferve ſo ill as you, and make me
Your fellow tribune.

Sicin. You ſhew too much of that,

For which the People ſtrre : if you will paffe

To where you are bound, you muſt enquire your way,

Which you are out of, with a gentler ſpirit,

Or never be ſo Noble as a Conull,

Nor yoake with him for Tribune.

Men. Lets be calme.

Com. The People are abus'd: ſet on, this paltring

Becomes not Rome: nor ha's Coriolanus

Deſerv'd this ſo diſhonour'd Rub, layd falſely

Ith plaine Way of his Merit.

Corio. Tell me of Corne ! this was my ſpeech,

And I will ſpeakt againe.

Men. Not now, not now.

Senat. Not in this heat, Sir, now.

Corio. Now as I live, I will.

My Nobler friends, I crave their parſons :

For the mutable ranke-lented Meyny,

Let them regard me, as I doe nor flatter,

And therein behold themſelves: I ſay againe,

In ſoofing them, we nouriſh gainſt our Senate

The Cockle of Rebellion, Inſokence, Sedition,

Which we our ſelves have plowed for, ſowd. & ſcatterd,

By mingling them with us, the honord Number,

Who lacke not Vertue, no, nor Power, but that

Which they have given to Beggers.

Men. Well, no more.

Senat. No more words, we beſeech you.

Corio. How ? no more?

As

The Tragedy of Coriolanus.

As for my Country, I have shed my blood.

Not fearing outward force: So shall my Lungs.

Coine words till their decay, againft those Meazels

Which we difdaine ſhould Tetter us, yet ſought

The very way to catch them.

Bru. You ſpeak e' th' people, as if you were a god,

To puniſh; Not a man of their infirmity.

Sicin. *I were well we let the people know't.*

Men. What, what? his Choller ?

Cor. Choller ? Were I as patient as the midnight ſleep
By Iove, twould be my' minde.

Sicin. It is a minde that ſhall remaine a poifon

Where it is: not poyſon any further.

Corio. Shall remaine ?

Here you this Triton of the Minmones? Marke you
His abſolute Shall?

Com. Twas from the Cannon.

Corio. Shall ? O God ! but moſt unwife Patricians: why
You grave, but wreakleſſe Senators, have you thus
Given Hidra heere to choofe an Officer,
That wirth his peremptory Shall, being but
The horne, and noife o'th' Monſtlers, wants not ſpirit
To ſay, he'll turne your Current in a ditch,
And make your Channell his ? if he have power,
Then vale your ignorance: if none, awake
Your dangerous Lenity: if you are Learn'd,
Be not as common Fooles ; if you are not,
Let them have Cuffions by you. You are Plebeians,
If they be Senators: and they are no leſſe,
When both your voyces blended, the great'ſt taſe
Moſt pallates theirs. They choofe their Magiftrate,
And fuch a one as he, who puts his ſhall,
His popular ſhall, againſt a graver Bench
Then ever frown'd in Greece. By Iove himſelfe,
It makes the Conſuls bafe; and my ſoule akes
To know, when two Authorities are up,
Neither Supreame ; how ſoone conſuion
May enter 'twixt the gap of Both, and take
The one by th'other.

Com. Well, on to'th'Market place.

Corio. Who ever gave that Counſell, to give forth
The Corne a' th'Store-houſe gratis, as twas us'd
Sometime in Greece.

Men. Well, well, no more of that.

Cor. Though there the people had more abſolute powre
I ſay the noriſht diſobedience: fed, the ruin of the State.

Bru. Why ſhall the people give

One that ſpeakes thus, their voyce ?

Corio. Ile give my Reaſons,

More worthie then their Voyces. They know the Corne
Was not our recompence, reſting well affur'd
They ne're did ſervice for't; being preſt to'th' Warre,
Even when the Navell of the State was touch'd,
They would not thred the Gates: This kind of ſervice
Did not deferve Corne gratis. Being i'th' Warre,
Thare Mutinies and Revolts, wherein they ſhew'd
Moſt Valour ſpoke not for them. Th' Accufation
Which they have often made againſt the Senate,
All cauſe unborne, could never be the Native
Of our ſo franke Donation. Well, what then?
How ſhall this Bofome-multiplied, digeſt
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 gave us our demands. Thus we deſabe
The Nature of our Seats, and make the Rabble

Call our Cares, Feares; which will in time

Breake ope the Lockes a' th' Senate, and bring in
The Crowes to pecke the Eagles.

Men. Come enough.

Bru. Enough, with over meaſure.

Corio. No, take more.

What may be ſworne by, both Divine and humane,
Seale what I end withall. This double worſhip.

Whereon part do's diſdaine with cauſe, the other
Inſult without all ſeafon: where Gentry, Title, wifedome

Cannot conclude, but by the yea and no

Of generall ignorance, it muſt omit:

Reall Necessities, and give way the while

To unſtable Slightneſſe: Purpofe ſo barr'd, it followes,

Nothing is done to purpofe. Therefore beſeech you,

You that will be leſſe teareſull, then diſcreet,

That love the Fundamentall part of State

More then you doubt the change of't: That preferre

A Noble life, before a Long, and Wifh,

To juſpe a Body with a dangerous Phyſicke,

That's ſure of death without it: at once plucke out

The Multitudinous Tongue, let them not ſicke

The fweet which is their poyſon. Your diſhonor

Mangles true judgement, and bereaves the State

Of that Integrity which ſhould becom't:

Not having the powerto doe the good it would

For th'ill which doth controul't.

Bru. Has faid enough.

Sicin. Ha's ſpoken like a Traitor, and ſhall anſwer
As Traitors doe.

Corio. Thou wretch, deſpight ore-whelme thee:

What ſhould the people doe with theſe bald Tribunes?

On whom depending, their obedience failes

To'th'greater Bench, in a Rebellacion

When what's not meet, but what muſt be, was Law.

Then were they choſen : in a better houſe,

Let what is meet, be ſaid it muſt be meet,

And throw their power i'th' duſt.

Bru. Manifeſt treaſon.

Sicin. This a Conſull ? No.

Enter an Edile.

Bru. The Ediles hœ; Let him be apprehended:

Sicin. Goe call the people, in whole name my ſelſe,
Attach thee as a Traitorous Innovator:

A Foe to'th'publike Weale. Obey I charge thee,

And follow to thine anſwer.

Corio. Hence old Goat.

All. We'll Surety him.

Com. Ag'd fir, hands off.

Corio. Hence rotten thing, or I ſhall ſhakethy bones
Out of thy Garments.

Sicin. Helpe ye Citizens.

Enter a rabble of Plebeians with the Ediles.

Men. On both fides more reſpect.

Sicin. Heere's he, that would take from you all your
power.

Bru. Seize him Ediles.

All. Downe with him, downe with him

2 Sen. Weapons, weapons, weapons :

They all bulaſſe about Coriolanus.

Tribunes, Patricians, Citizens: what hœ:

Sicinius, Brutus, Coriolanus, Citizens.

All. Peace, peace, peace, ſlay, hold, peace.

Men. What is about to be ? I am out of Breath,
Conſuions ne're, I cannot ſpeake. You Tribunes

To'th'people: Coriolanus, patience: ſpeake good Sicinius.
Sicin.

The Tragedy of Coriolanus.

45

Sicin. Heare me, People peace.

All. Let's heare our Tribune: peace, speake, speake, speake, speake.

Sicin. You are at point to lote your Liberties:

Martius would have all from you; Martius,

Whom late you have nam'd for Confull.

Men. Fye, fie, fie, this is the way to kindle, not to quench.

Sen. To unbuild the City, and to lay all flat.

Sicin. What is the City, but the People?

All. True, the People are the City.

Bri. By the conent of all, we were established the Peoples Magistrates.

All. You fo remaine.

Men. And fo are like to doe:

Com. That is the way to lay the City flat, Tobring the Roofe to the Foundation, And bury all, which yet distinctly raanges In heapes, and piles of Ruine.

Sicin. This deferves death.

Bri. Or let us stand to our Authority, Or let us lofe it: we doe here pronounce, Vpon the part o'th'People, in whose power We were elected theirs, Martius is worthy Of prefont Death.

Sicin. Therefore lay hold of him:

Beare him toth' Rocke Tarpeian, and from thence Ito destruction caft him.

Bri. Ediles feize him.

All Ple. Yeed Martius, yeeld,

Men. Heare me one word, 'befech you Tribunes, heare me but a word.

Ediles. Peace, peace.

Men. Be that you feeme, truly your Countries friend, And te np'rately proceed to what you would Thus violently redrefse.

Bri. Sir, thate cold wayes,

That feeme like prudent helps, are very poysonous, Where the Difeafe is violent. Lay hands upon him,

And beare him to the Rocke.

Corio. draws his Sword.

Corio. No, Ile dye here:

There's some among you have beheld me fighting,

Come try upon your felves, what you have feene me.

Men. Downe with that Sword, Tribunes withdraw a while.

Bri. Lay hands upon him.

Men. Helpe Martius, helpe you that be noble, helpe him young and old.

All. Downe with him, downe with him.

Exeunt.

In this Mutiny, the Tribunes, the Ediles, and the People are beate in.

Men. Goe. get you to our House: be gone, away,

All will be naught else.

2. Senat. Get you gone.
Com. Stand faft, we have as many friends as enemies.

Men. Shall it be put to that?

Sen. The gods forbid :

I prethee noble friend, home to thy house,
Leave us to cure this Cauſe.

Men. For tis a Sore upon us.

You cannot Tent your felfe, beon, 'befech you.

Com. Come Sir, along with us.

Men. I would they were Barbarians, as they are,
Though in Rome litter'd: not Romans, as they are not,
Though calved 'th'Porch o'th'Capitol:

Be gone, put not your worthy Rage into your Tongue,

One time will owe another.

Com. On faire ground, I could beat forty of them.

Men. I could my felfe take up a Brace o'th'beft of them,
yea, the two Tribunes.

Com. But now t's oddes beyond Arithmeticke,

And Manhood is call'd Foolry, when it stands

Against a falling Fabritcke. Will you hence,

Before the Tagge returne? whose Rage doth rend

Like interrupted Waters, and o're-beare

What they are us'd to beare.

Men. Pray you be gone:

Ile try whether my old Wit be in requeſt

With thofe that have but little: this muſt be patcht

With Cloth of any Colour.

Com. Nay, come away.

Exeunt Coriolanus
and Cominius.

Patri. This man ha's marr'd his fortune.

Men. His nature is too noble for the World :

He would not flatter Neptune for his Trident,

Or Iove, for's power to thunder : his heart's his Mouth:

What his breft forges, that his tongue muſt vent,

And being angry, does forget that ever

He heard the Name of death.

A Noife within.

Here's goodly worke.

Patri. I would they were a bed.

Men. I would they were in Tyber.

What the vengeance, could he not speake 'em faire?

Enter Brustus, and Sicinius with the rabble againe.

Sicin. Where is this Viper,

That would depopulate the city, & be every man himſelf.

Men. You worthy Tribunes.

Sicin. He ſhall be throwne downe the Tarpeian rocke

With ſigorous hands : he hath reſtilſed Law,

And therefore Law ſhall ſcorne him further Triall

Then the ſeverity of the publike Power,

Which he ſo fet at naught.

1 Cit. He ſhall well know the Noble Tribunes are

The peoples mouths, and we their hands.

All. He ſhall ſure out.

Men. Sir, sir.

Sicin. Peace.

Men. Do nor cry havocke, where you ſhould but hunt With modeſt warrant.

Sicin. Sir, how com'ſt that you have holpe

To mske this reſcue ?

Men. Heare me ſpeake? As I doe know

The Conſuls worthineſſe, ſo can I name his Faults.

Sicin. Confull? what Confull?

Men. The Confull Coriolanus.

Bri. He Confull.

All. No, no, no, no, no.

Men. If by the Tribunes leave,

And yours good people,

I may be heard, I would crave a word or two,

The which ſhall turne you to no further harme,
Then ſo much loffe of time.

Sicin. Speake briefly then,

For we are peremptory to diſpatch

This Viſorous Traitor: to eject him hence

Were but one danger, and to keepe him heere

Our certaine death: therefore it is decreed,

He dyes to night.

Men. Now the good gods forbid,

That our renowned Rome, whose gratitude

Towards her deferved Children, is enroll'd

In Ioves owne Booke, like an unnaturall Dam

Should now eate up her owne.

Sicin

["The Tragedy of Coriolanus.", "Sicin. He's a Dileafe that muft be cut away.", "Men. Oh he's a Limbe, that ha's but a Dileafe\nMortall, to cut it off: to cure it, caufe.", "What ha's he done to 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 looke it by his Countrey,", "Were to us all that doo', and suffer it", "A brand to th'endath World.", "Sicin. This is cleane kamme,", "Bru. Meereley awry :", "When he did lone his Country, it honour'd him.", "Men. The fervice of the foote", "Being once gangren'd, is not then respected", "For what before it was.", "Bru. We'll heare no more :", "Purfue him to his houſe, and plucke him thence,", "Leaſt his infection being of caching nature,", "Spread further.", "Men. One word more, one word :", "This Tiger-footed-rage, when it ſhall find", "The harme of unskan'd (wiftneſſe, will (too late)\"", "Tye Leaden pounds too's heeles. Proceed by Proceſſe,", "Leaſt parties (as he is beſov'd) breaſe out,", "And ſacke great Rome with Romanes.", "Bru. If it were ſo :", "Sicis. What doe ye talke ?", "Have we not had a taſte of his Obedience ?", "Our Ediles ſmot; our ſelves reſiſted come.", "Men. Conſider this : He ha's becne bred i'th'Warres", "Since a could draw a Sword, and is ill-school'd", "In boulted Language: Meale and Bran together.", "He throwes without diſtinction. Give me leave,", "Ile goe to him, and undertake to bring him in peace,", "Where he ſhall anſwer by a lawfull Forme", "(In peace) to his utmoſt perill.", "I. Sen. Noble Tribunes,", "It is the humane way : the other courſe", "Will prove too bloody : and the end of it,", "Vnknowne to the beginning.", "Sic. Noble Meneſtius, be you then as the peoples officer:\nMaſters, lay downe your Weapons.", "Bru. Goe not home.", "Sicis. Meet on the Market place: we'll attend you there\nWhere if you bring not Martius, we'll proceede\nIn our firſt way.", "Men. Ile bring him to you.", "Let me define your company : he muſt come,", "Or what is worſt will follow.", "Sena. Pray you let's to him.", "Exeunt Nobles.\nEnter Coriolanus with Nobles.", "Corio. Let them pull all about mine eares, preſent me\nDeath on the Wheele, or at wilde Horſes heeles,", "Or pile ten hilles on the Tarpeian Rocke,\nThat the precipitation might downe ſtretch", "Below the beame of fight; yet will I ſtill", "Be thus to them.", "Enter Volumnia.", "Noble. You doe the Nobler.", "Corio. I muſe my Mother", "Do's notapproue me further, who was wont", "To call them Wollen Vassailes, things created", "To buy and fell with Groats, to ſhew bare heads", "In Congregations, to yawne, be ſtill, and wonder,", "When one but of my ordinance ſtood up", "To ſpeake of Peace, or Warre, I talke of you,\nWhy did you wifh me milder ? Would you have me\nFalle to my Nature ? Rather ſay, I play\nThe man I am.", "Volum. Oh fir, fir, fir.", "I would have had you put your power well on\nBefore you had worne it out:", "Corio. Let goe.", "Vol. You might have beene enough the man you are,\nWith ſtriving leſſe to be ſo. Leſſer had beene", "The things of your diſpoſitions, if", "You had not ſhow'd them how ye were diſpo'd", "Ere they lack'd power to croſſe you.", "Corio. Let them hang.", "Volum. I, and burne too.", "Enter Menenius with the Sematers.", "Men. Come, come, you have bin too rough, ſomething\ntoo rough: you muſt returne, and mend it.", "Sen. There's no remedy,", "Vnleſſe by not ſo doing, our good City", "Cleave in the midd'th, and perſh.", "Volum. Pray be counſail'd ;", "I have a heart as little apt as yours,", "But yet a braine, that leads my uſe of Anger", "To better vantage.", "Meno. Well faid, Noble woman :", "Before he should thus ſtoope to'th'heart, but that", "The violent fit a'th'time craves it what ſkyſe", "For the whole State; I would put mine Armour on,", "Which I can ſcarſely beare.", "Corio. What muſt I doe ?", "Men. Returne to th' Tribunes.", "Corio. Well, what then ? what then ?", "Men. Repent, what you have ſpoke.", "Corio. For them, I cannot doe it to the Gods,", "Muſt I then doo't to them ?", "Volum. You are too absolute,", "Though therein you can never be too Noble,", "But when extremities ſpeake. I have heard you ſay,", "Honor and Policy, like unſever'd friends,", "I'th'Warre doe grow together: Grant that, and tell me", "In Peace, what each of them by th'other ſlooke,", "That they combine not there ?", "Corio. Tuaſh, wuſh.", "Men. A good demand.", "Volum. If it be honor in your Warre, to ſee me", "The fame you are not, which for your belt ends", "You adopt your policy: How is it leſſe or worſe", "That it ſhall hold Companionſhip in Peace", "With honor, as in Warre; ſince that to both", "It stands in like requeſt.", "Corio. Why force 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 to, 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,", {"bbox": [720, 1299, 1004, 1320], "category": "Text", "text":

The Tragedy of Coriolanus.

47

Your Wife, your Sonne: Thefe Senators, the Nobles,
And you, will rather fly our generall Lowts,
How you can frowne, then ſpend a tawne upon'em,
For the inheritance of their loves, and ſafegard
Of what that want might ruine.

Men. Noble Lady.

Come goe with vs, Ipeake faire : you may falve so,
Not what is dangerous prefent, but the loffe
Of what is palt.

Volum. I prethee now, my Sonne,
Goe to them, with this Bonnet in thy hand,
And thus farre having ſtretcht it (here be with them)
Thy Knee buffing the ſtones : for in ſuch bufneſſe
Action is eloquence, and the eyes of th'ignorant
More learned then the eares, waving thy head,
Which often thus correcting thy ſout 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
Hath not the ſoft way, which thou doſt confefſe
Were fit for thee to uſe, as they to clayme,
Inſking their good loves, but thou wilt frame
Thy ſelſe (for ſooth) hereafter theirs ſo farre,
Aſhoult haſt power and perſon.

Men. This but done,

Ebenes ſhe ſpeakes, why their hearts were yonrs :
For they have Pardons, being ask'd, as free,
As words to little purpofe.

Volum. Prethee now,

Goe, and be rul'd: although I know thou hadst rather
Follow thine Enemy in a ſiery Gulfe,

Then flatter him in a Bower.

Enter Cominius.

Here is Cominius.

Com. I have beene i'th' Market place; and Sir 'tis fit
You make strong party, or defend your ſelfe
By calmeneſſe, or by abſence: all's in anger.

Men. Only faire ſpeech.

Com. I thinke 'twill ſerve, if he can theretoe frame his
pittor.

Volum. He muſt and will :

Prethee now ſay you will, and goe about it.

Corio. Muſt I goe ſhew them my unbarb'd ſconce?
Muſt I with my bare Tongue give to my Noble heart
A Lye, that it muſt beare well? I will doo't :
Yet were there but this ſingle Piot, to looke
This Mould of Martius, they to duſt should grinde it,
And throw't againſt the Winde. Toth'Market place :
You have put me now to ſuch a part, which never
I haſt diſcharge toth't Life.

Corio. Come, come, we'll prompt you.

Volum. I prethee now ſweet Son, as thou haſt faſſed
My prairies made thee firſt a Souldier : ſo
To have my praeſe for this, performe a part
Thou haſt not done before.

Corio. Well, I muſt doo't.

Away my diſpoſition, and poffeſſe me
Some Harlots p[it]irit: My throat of Warre be turn'd,
Which quiere'd with my Drumme into a Pipe,
Small as an Eunuch, or the Virgin voyce
That Babies lull a ſleepe: The ſmiles of Knaves
Tent in my cheekes, and Schoole-boyes Teares take up
The Glaſſes of my fight: 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 receiv'd an Almes. I will not doo't,
Leaſt I ſuſcaſe to honor mine owne truth,

And by my bodies action, teach my Mind
A moſt inherent Bafeſſe.

Volum. At thy choyce then :

To begge of thee, it is my more diſ-honor,
Then thou of them. Come all to ruine, let
Thy Mother rather feele thy Pride, then ſeare
Thy dangerous Stouteſſe : for I mocke at death
With as bigge heart as thou. Doe as thou lilt,
Thy Valiantſſe was mine, thou ſuck'ſt it from me :
But owne thy Pride thy ſelfe.

Corio. Pray be content :

Mother, I am going to the Market place :
Chide me no more. Ile Mountebanke their Loves,
Cogge their hearts from them, and come home belov'd
Of all the Trades in Rome. Looke, I am going :
Commend me to my Wife, Ile returne Conſull,
Or never truſt to what my Tongue can doe
I'ch way of Flattery further.

Volum. Doe your will.

Exit Volumia.

Com. Away, the Tribunes doe attend you : arme your
To anſwer mildly : for they are prepared
(felze
With Accufations, as I heare more ſtrong
Then are upon you yet.

Corio. The word is, Mildely. Pray you let us goe,
Let them accuſe me by invention: I
Will anſwere in mine Honor.

Men. I, but mildly.

Corio. Well mildly be it then, Mildly.

Exeunt.

Enter Sicinius and Brutus.

Bru. In this point charge him home, that he affects
Tyrannicall power : if he evade us there,
Inſorce him with his envy to the people,
And that the Spoile got on the Antiats
Was ne're diſtributed, What, will he come ?

Enter an Edile.

Edile. He's comming.

Bru. How accompanied ?

Edil. With old Menenius, and thole Senators

That alwayes favour'd him.

Sicin. Hane you a Catalogue

Of all the Voices that we have procur'd, let downe by't
Edil. I have : 'tis ready, (Pole ?

Sicin. Have you collected them by Tribes?

Edil. I have : 'tis ready

Sicin. Aſſemble prefently the people hither :

And when they heare me ſay, it ſhall be ſo,
Ith'right and itreight a'th' Commons: be it either
For death, for Fine, or Banifhment, then let them
If I ſay Fine, cry Fine ; if Death, cry Death,
Inſtifting on the old prerogative
And power i'th Truth a'th Caufe.

Edile. I ſhall inſorme them.

Bru. And when ſuch timet they have begun to cry,
Let them not ceaſe, but with a dinne confus'd,
Inſorce the prefent Execution
Of what we chance to Sentence.

Edil. Verywell.

Sicin. Make them be ſtrong, and ready for this hint
When we ſhall hap to giv't them.

Bru. Goe about it,

Put him to Choller ſtraite, he hath beene us'd
Ever to conquer, and to have his worth
Of contradiction. Being once chaſt, he cannot
Be rein'd againe to Temperance; then he ſpeakes

What's

["48", "The Tragedy of Coriolanus.", "What's in his heart, and that is there which looks\nWith us to breake his necke.", "*Enter Coriolanus, Menenius, and Cominius, with others.*", "*Sicin.* Well, heere he comes.", "*Men.* Calmely, I doe befeech you.", "*Corio.* I, as an Hofler, that for th'pooreft peec\nWill beare the Knave by'th Volume :", "Th'honor'd goddes\nKeepe Rome in fafty, and the Chaires of juſtice\nSupplied with worthy men, plant love amongst you,\nThrough our large Temples with the ſhewes of peace\nAnd not our freets with Warre.", "*1 Sen.* A men, Amen.", "*Mene.* A Noble wifh.", "*Enter the Edile with the Plebians.*", "*Sicin.* Draw neere ye people.", "*Edile.* Lift to your Tribunes. Audience ;", "Peace I lay.", "*Corio.* First heare me ſpeake.", "*Both Tri.* Well, ſay: Peace hoe.", "*Corio.* Shall I be charg'd no further then this preſent?", "Muſt all determine heere?", "*Sici.* I doe demand,", "If you ſubmit you to the peoples voyces,", "Allow their Officers, and are content", "To ſuffer lawfull Cenſure for ſuch faults", "As ſhall be prov'd upon you.", "*Corio.* I am content,", "*Mene.* Loe Citizens, he ſayes he is Content:", "The warlike ſervice he ha's done, confider ; Thinke", "Upon the wounds his body beares, which ſhew", "Like Graves i'th holy Church-yard,", "*Corio.* Scratches with Briars, ſcarres to move", "Laughter onely.", "*Men.* Confider further :", "That when he ſpeakes not like a Citizen,\nYou find him like a Souldier : doe not take", "His rougher Actions for malicious ſounds :", "But as I lay, ſuch as become a Soldier,", "Rather then envy you.", "*Com.* Well, well, no more.", "*Corio.* What is the matter,", "That being paſt for Confull with full voyce :", "I am ſo diſhonour'd, that the very houre", "You take it off againe?", "*Sici.* Anſwer to us.", "*Corio.* Say then : 'tis true, I ought ſo.", "*Sici.* We charge you, that you have contriv'd to take", "From Rome all ſeafon'd Office, and to winde", "Your ſelfe 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 ſate twenty thouſand deaths", "In thy hands clutcht : as many Millions in", "Thy lying tongue, both numbers. I would ſay", "Thou lyeſt unto thee, with a voyce as free,", "As I doe pray the gods.", "*Sicin.* Marke you this people ?", "*All.* To'th'Rocke with him.", "*Sicin.* Peace :", "We neede not put new matter to his charge :", "What you have ſeene him doe, and heard him ſpeake :", "Beating your Officers, curling your ſelves,\nOpposing Lawes with stroakes, and here defying\nThoſe whole great power muſt try him,\nEven this ſo criminall, and in ſuch capitall kinde,\nDeferves th'extreameſt death.", "*Bru.* But ſince he hath ſerv'd well for Rome.", "*Corio.* What doe you prate of ſervice?", "*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 mercy, at the price of one faire word,", "Nor checke my Courage for what they can give,", "To have't with faying, Good morrow.", "*Sicin.* For that he ha's", "(As much as in him lies) from time to time", "Env'd againſt the people; feeking means", "To plucke away their power : as now at laſt,", "Given Hoftile strokes, and that not in the preference", "Of dreaded juſtice, but on the Minijers", "That doe diſtribute it. In the name a'th'people,", "And in the power of us the Tribunes, we", "(Ev'n from this inſant) baniſh him our City", "In perill of precipitation", "From off the Rocke Tarpeian, never more", "To enter our Rome gates. I'th'peoples name,", "I ſay it ſhall be ſo.", "*All.* It ſhall be ſo, it ſhall be ſo: let him away :", "He'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 have beene Confull, and can ſhew from Rome", "Her Enemies may keſe upon me. I doe lone", "My Countries good, with a reſpect more tender,", "More holy, and profound, then mine owne life,", "My deere Wives ſeſtimate, her wembes createſe,", "And treaſure of my Leynes ; then if I would", "Speake that.", "*Sicin.* We know your drift. Speake what ?", "*Bru.* There's no more to be faid, but he is baniſh'd", "As Enemy to the people, and his Countrie.", "It ſhall be ſo.", "*All.* It ſhall be ſo, it ſhall be ſo.", "*Corio.* You common cry of Curs, wholebre I hate,", "As reeke a'th'rotten Fennes : whole ſoves I prize,", "As the dead Carkaſſes of unburied men,", "That doe corrupt my Ayre : I baniſh you,", "And heere remaine with your uncertainty.", "Let every feeble Rumor ſake your hearts :", "Your Enemies, with nodding of their Plumes", "Fan you into deſpaire: Have the power full", "To baniſh your Defenders, till at length", "Your ignorance (which findes not till it feeles,", "Making but refervation of your ſelves,", "Still your owne Foes) deliver you", "As moſt abated Captives, to ſome Nation", "That wonne you without blowes, deſpising", "For you the City. Thus I turne my backe ;", "There is a world eſtwhere.",

The Tragedy of Coriolanus.

49

Edile. The peoples Enemy is gone, is gone.

All. Our enemy is banif'd, he is gone: Hoo, oo.

Skins. Go fee him out at Gates, and follow him

As he hath follow'd you, with all desight
Give him deferv'd vexation. Let a guard
Attend us through the City.

All. Come, come, lets fee him out at the gates, come:
The gods prefer our Noble Tribunes, come. Exeunt.

Actus Quartus.

Enter Coriolanus, Volumnia, Virgilia, Menenius, Cominius with the young Nobility of Rome.

Corio. Come leave your teares: a brief farwel : the beauf
With many heads butts me away. Nay Mother,
Where is your ancient Courage? You were us'd
To lay, Extreamity was the trier of spirits,
That common chances, common men could beare,
That when the Sea was calme, all Boates alike
Shew'd Masterfhip in floating. Fortunes blowes,
When moft ftooke home, being gentle wounded, craves
A Noble cunning. You were us'd to load me
With Precepts that would make invincible
The heart that conn'd them.

Virg. Oh heavens ! O heavens !

Corio. Nay, I prythe woman.

Vol. Now the Red Peftsilence ftrike all Trades in Rome,
And Occupations perifh.

Corio. What, what, what:

I fhall be lov'd when I am lack'd. Nay Mother,
Refume that fpirit, when you were want to lay,
If you had beene the Wife of Hercules,

Six of his. Labours you'd have done, and fav'd
Your husband fo much fweate. Cominius,

Droope not, Adieu: Farewell my Wife, my Mother,
He do well yet. Thou old and true Menenius,

Thy teares are falter then a yonger mans,
And venomous to thine eyes. My (fometime) General,

I have feene the Sterne, and thou haft oft beheld
Heart-hardning ſpectacles. Tell thefe fa'd women,
'Tis fond to waile inevitable ftokes,

As'tis to laugh at'em. My Mother, you wet well
My hazards ſhall have beenee your folace, and

Beleev't not lightly, though I goe alone
Like to a lonely Dragon, that his Fenne

Makes fear'd, and talk'd of more then feene : your Sonne
Will or exceed the Common, or be caught
With cautious baits and practice.

Volum. My firſt ſonne,

Whither will you go? Take good Cominius

With thee a while : Determine on ſome courſe

More then a wilde exopolture, to each chance
That ſtarts i'th' way before thee.

Corio. O the gods!

Com. Ile follow thee a Moneth, devife with thee
Where thou ſhalt reſt, that thou may'ſt heare of us,
And we of thee. So if the time thrust forth
A canſe for thy Repaire, we ſhall not ſend
O're the vaſt world, to feeke a ſingle man,
And loofe advantage, which doth ever coole
Th' abſence of the needer.

Corio. Fare ye well :

Thou haſt yeares upon thee, and thou art too full

Of the warres furſets, to go rove with one
That's yet unbruſ'd : bring me but out at gate.

Come my fweet 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 above the ground, you ſhall
Heare from me ſtill, and never of me ought

But what is like me formerly.

Menen. That's worthily

As any care can heare. Come, let's not weepe,

If I could ſhake off but one ſeven yeeres

From theſe old armes and legges, by the good gods

I'd with thee ever foot.

Corio. Give me thy hand, come.

Exeunt.

Enter the two Tribunes, Sicinius, and Brutus,
with the Edile.

Sicin. Bid them all home, he's gone: aod wee'no further,
The Nobility are vexed, whom we fee have ſided
In his behalfe.

Brut. Now we have ſhewne our power,
Let us ſee me 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. Difmiffle them home. Here comes his Mother.
Enter Volumnia, Virgilia, and Menenius.

Sicin. Let's not meet her.

Brut. Why ?

Sicin. They ſay ſhee's mad.

Brut. They have tane note of us: keepe on your way.

Volum. Oh y'are weil met :

Th' hoorded plague a'th' gods requit your love.

Menen. Peace, peace, be not fo loud.

Volum. If that I could for weeping, you ſhould heare,
Nay, and you ſhall heare ſome. Will you be gone?

Virg. You ſhall ſlay too: I would I had the power

To ſay to my Husband.

Sicin. Are you mankinde?

Volum. I loole, is that a ſhame, Note but this Foole,
Was not a man my Father ? Had'it thou Foxthip
To banifh him that ſtrooke more blowes for Rome
Then thou haſt ſpok'en words.

Sicin. Oh bleſſed Heavens !

Volum. Moe Noble blowes, then ever thou wife words.

And for Romes good I tell thee what : yet goe :

Nay but thou haſt ſlay 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 poſterity.

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 unknit himſelfe

The noble knot he made.

Bru. I would he had,

Volum. I would he had? 'Twas you incenſt the rable.
Cats, that can judge as firſt of his worth,
As I can of thofe Myſteries which heaven

Will not have earth to know.

Brut. Pray let's go.

Volum. Now pray fir get you gone.

You have done a brave deedde: Ere you go, heare this:
As farre as doth the Capitoll exceede

The meaneſt honſe in Rome; to farre my Sonne

ce

This

The Tragedy of Macbeth.

But I must also feel it as a man;
I cannot but remember such things were
That were most precious to me: Did heaven looke on,
And would not take their part? Sinfull *Macduffe*,
They were all trooke for thee: Naught that I am,
Not for their owne demerits, but for mine
Fell flaughter on their foules: Heaven reft them now.
*Mal.* Be this the Whetstone of your sword, let griefe
Convert to anger: blunt not the heart, enrage it.
*Macd.* O I could play the woman with mine eyes,
And Braggart with my tongue. But gentle Heavens,
Cut short all intermiffion: Front to Front,
Bring thou this Fiend of Scotland, and my selfe
Within my Swords length fet him, if he scape
Heaven forgive him too.
*Mal.* This time goes manly:
Come go we to the King, our Power is ready,
Our lacke is nothing but our leave. *Macbeth*
Is ripe for shaking, and the Powers above
Put on their Instruments: Receive what cheere you may,
The night is long that never findes the Day. *Exeunt*

Enter a Doctor of Physicke, and a Wayting
Gentlewoman.

*Doct.* I have two Nights watch'd with you, but can
perceive no truth in your report. When was it she last
walk'd?

*Gent.* Since his Majesty went into the Field, I have
feene her rife from her bed, throw her Night-Gown up-
on her, unlocke her clocfet, take fourth paper, folde it,
write upon't, read it, afterwards feale it, and againe re-
turne to bed; yet all this while in a moft faft sleepe,

*Doct.* A great perturbation in Nature, to receive at
once the benefit of sleepe and do the effects of watching.
In this flumbry agitation, befides her walking, and other
actual performances, what (at any time) have you heard
her fay?

*Gent.* That Sir, which I will not report after her.

*Doct.* You may to me, and 'tis moft meet you. I should.

*Gent.* Neither to you, nor any one, having no witneſſe
to confirme my ſpeech. Enter Lady with a Taper.

Lo you, here ſhe comes: This is her very guife, and up-
on my life faft afflee; obſerve her, stand cloſe.

*Doct.* How came ſhe by that light?

*Gent.* Why it flood by her: ſhe ha's light by her con-
tinually, 'tis her command.

*Doct.* You fee her eyes are open.

*Gent.* I but their ſente are shut.

*Doct.* What is it ſhe do's now?

Looke how ſhe rubbes her hands.

*Gent.* It is an accuſtom'd action with her, to feeme
thus waſhing her hands: I have knowne her continue in
this a quarter of an houre.

*Lad.* Yet heere's a ſpot.

*Doct.* Heark, ſhe ſpeakes, I will fet downe what comes
from her, to ſatisfie my ſemembrance the more ſtrongly.

*La.* Out damned ſpot: out I lay. One: Two: Why
then 'tis time to doo't: Hell is murky. Fye, my Lord, ſie,
a Souldier, and affear'd? what need we ſeare? who knows
it, when none can call our power to accompt: yet who

would have thought the olde man to have had so much
blood in him.

*Doct.* Do you marke that?

*Lad.* The Thane of Fife, had a wife: where is the now?
What will thefe hands neere be cleane? No more o' that
my Lord, no more o' that: you marre all with flat-
ting.

*Doct.* Goto, goto:

You have knowne what you should not.

*Gent.* She ha's ſpoke what ſhe should not, I am ſure
of that: Heaven knowes what ſhe ha's knowne.

*La.* Here's the smell of the blood full: all the per-
fumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand.

*Oh, oh, oh.*

*Doct.* What a ſigh is there? The heart is forely charg'd

*Gent.* I would not have ſuch a heart in my boſome,
for the dignity of the whole body.

*Doct.* Well, well, well.

*Gent.* Pray God it be fir.

*Doct.* This diſeafe is beyond my praeſiſe: yet I have
knowne thate which have walkt in their ſleep, who have
dyed holly in their beds.

*Lad.* Waſh your hands, put on your Night-Gowne,
looke not so pale: I tell you yet againe *Banquo's* buried;
he cannot come out on's grave.

*Doct.* Even fo'?

*Lady.* To bed, to bed: there's knocking at the gate:
Come, come, come, come, give me your hand: What's
done, cannot be undone. To bed, to bed, to bed.

Exit Lady.

*Doct.* Will ſhe go now to bed?

*Gent.* Direſtly.

*Doct.* Foule whifp'rings are abroad: unnaturall deeds
Do breed unnaturall troubles: infected mindes
To their deafe pillowes will diſcharge their Secrets:
More needes ſhe the Divine, then the Phyſitian:
God, God forgive us all. Looke after her,
Remove from her the meaneſes of all annoyance,
And fill keepe eyes upon her: So goodnight:
My minde ſhe ha's mated, and amaz'd my fight.

I thinke, but dare not ſpeake.

*Gent.* Good night good Doctor.

Exeunt.

## Scena Secunda.

Drum and Colours, Enter Monethes, Cashnes,
Angus, Lenx, Souldiers.

*Met.* The English power is neere, led on by *Malcolm*,
His Vnkle *Seymard*, and the good *Macduff*.
Revenues burne in them: for their deere caſes
Excite the mortified man.

*Ang.* Neere Byrnan wood

Shall we well meet them, that way are they comming.

*Cath.* Who knowes if *Donalbane* be with his brother?

*Len.* For certaine Sir, he is not: I have a File
Of all the Gentry; there is *Seymards* Sonne,

And many unruffe youths, that evennow
Proreft their firſt of Manhood.

*Ment.* What do's the Tyrant.

*Cath.* Great Dunſinane he strongly Fortifies,
Some ſay hee's mad: Others, that leſer hate him,
Do call it valiant *Fury*, but for certaine

He

The Tragedy of Macbeth.

269

He cannot buckle his diſtemper'd caufe
Within the belt of Rule.

Ang. Now doe's he feele

His ſecret Murthers ſticking on his hands,
Now minutely Revolts upbraid his faith-breach :
Thoſe he commands,move only in command,
Nothing in love: Now doe's he feele his Title
Hang looke about him,like a Giants Robe
Upon a Dwarſh Thefee.

Ment. Who then ſhall blaſſe

Hispeſter'd Senſes to recoyle, and ſtart,
When all that is within him,doe's condemne
It ſelle, for being there.

Cath. Well,march weon,

To give obedience where tis truly ow'd :
Meet we the Med'cine of the ſickly Weale,
And with him powre we in our Countries purge,
Each drop of us.

Lenox. Or ſo much as it needs,

To dew the Soveraigne Flower, and drowne the Weeds
Make we our March towards Birnam. Exeunt marching

## Scæna Tertia.

Enter Macbeth, Doctor, and Attendants.

Mach. Bring me no more Reports,let them flye all:
Till Birnam Wood remove to Dunfinane,
I cannot taint with Feare. What's the Boy Malcolm?'
Was he not borne of woman? He the Spirits that know
All mortall Conſequences,have pronounc'd me thus:
Feare not Macbeth,no man that's borne of woman
Shall have power upon thee. Then fly ſalſe Ianes,
And mingle with the English ſpicures,
The minde I ſway by,and the heart I beare,
Shall never ſagge with doubt,nor ſhake with feare.

Enter Servant.

The Divell damne thee blacke, thou cream-fac'd Loone:
Where goe it thou that Goole-looke.

Ser. There is ten thouſand.

Mach. Geefe Villaine ?

Ser. Souldiers fir.

Mach. Goe pricke thy face,and over-red thy ſeare
Thou Lilly-liver'd Boy. What Souldiers, Patch ?
Death of thy ſoule,thoſe linnen cheekes of thine
Are Counſailours to ſcare. What Souldiers Whay-face?
Ser. The English Force, ſo pleafe you.
Mach. Take thy ſace hence. Seyton, I am ſicke at heart,
When I behold: Seyton, I ſay, this pufh
Will cheere me ever,or diſeafe me now.
I have liv'd long enough: my way of life
Is ſalne into the Seare,the yellow Leafe,
And that which ſhould accompany Old Age,
As honour,love,obedience,Troopes of Friends,
I muſt not looke to have ; but in their ſtead,
Curſes,not lowd but depe,Mouth-honour,breath
Which the poore heart would ſaine deny,and dare not
Seyton?

Enter Seyton.

Sey. What's your Gracious pleafure ?

Mach. What neſues more?

Sey. All is confirm'd my Lord,which was reported.

Mach. Ile fight,till from my bones,my fleſh is hackt.

Give me my Armour.

Sey. Tis not needed yet.

Mach. Ile put it on:

Send out moſt horſes,skirre the Countrey round,
Hang thoſe that ſtand in ſeare.Give me mine Armor :
How doe's your Patient, Doctor?

Doſt. Not ſo ſicke my Lord,

As the ſhe is troubled with thicke-comming Fancies
That keepe her from her ſeft.

Mach. Cure her of that:

Canſt thou not Minifter to a minde diſeas'd,
Plucke from the Memory a rooted Sorrow,
Raze out the written troubles of the Braine,
And with ſome ſweet obliuons Antidore
Cleane the ſluſt boſome,of that perillous ſtuffe
Which weigheſ upon the heart?

Doſt. Therein the Patient
Muſt Minifter unto himſelfe,

Mach. Throw Phyſicke to the Dogs,Ile none of it.
Come,put mine Armor on: give me my ſtaffe :

Seyton, ſend out: Doctor, the Thanes flye from me :

Come fir,diſpatch. If thou could'ſt Doctor,caſt

The water of my Land,find her diſeafe,
And purge it to a found and prifitive Health,
I would applaud thee to the very Eccho,
That ſhould applaud againe. Pull't off I ſay,
What Rubarb, Caen,or what Purgative drug

Would ſcrowe theſe English hence:heart ſoult thou of them?

Doſt. I my good Lord: your Royall preparation

Makes us heare ſomething.

Mach. Bring it after me :

I will no: be aſtraid of Death and Bane,

Till Birnam Ferreſt come to Dunfinane,

Doſt. We e I from Dunfinane away, and cleare,

Profit againe ſhould hardly draw me here.

Exeunt.

## Scæna Quarta.

Drum and Colours. Enter Malcolm, Seyward, Macduff, Seywards Sonne, Menteth, Caithnes, Angus, and Souldiers Marching.

Male. Cofins I hope the dayes are neere at hand

That Chambers will be ſafe.

Ment. We doubt it nothing.

Seyw. What Wood is this before us ?

Ment. The Wood of Birnam.

Malc. Let every ſouldier hew him downe a Bough,
And bear't before him,thereby ſhall we ſhadow
The numbers of our Hoaſt,and make diſcovery
Ere in report of us.

Sold. It ſhall be done.

Seyw. We learne no other, but the confident Tyrant,
Keeps ſtill in Dunfinane,and will indure
Our fetting downe before't.

Malc. Tis his maine hope :

For where there is advantage to be given,

Both more and leſſe have given him the Revolt,

And none ſerve with hima, but conſtrained things,

Whoſe hearts are abſent too.

Malc. Let our beſt Cenſures

Before the true event,and put we on

pp

Induſtrious

The Tragedy of Macbeth.

Induſtrious Souldiership.

Sey. The time approaches,
That will with due decifion make us know
What we shall fay we have, and what we owe:
Thoughts ſpeculative, their unſure hopes relate,
But certaine iffine, ſtrokes muſt arbitrate,
Towards which, advance the warre. Exeunt marching.

## Scena Quinta.

Enter Macbeth, Seyton, and Souldiers, with
Drum and Colours.

Mach. Hang out our Banners on the outward walls,
The Cry is ſtill, they come : Our Caſtles ſtreight gth
Will laugh a Siege to ſcorne : Here let them lye,
Till Famine and the Ague eate them up :
Were they not ſor'd with thoſe that ſhould be ours,
We might have met them darefull, beard to beard,
And beat them backeward home. What is that noyſe?
A cry within of Women.

Sey. It is the cry of women, my good Lord.

Mach. I have almost forgot the taſte of Fears:
The time has beene, my ſenſes would have coold
To heare a Night-ſhrieke, and my Fell of haire
Would at a diſtall Treatife rowze, and ſtirie
As life were in't. I have ſuſt full with horrors,
Direneſſe familiar to my ſlaughterous thoughts
Cannot once ſtart me. Wherefore was that cry?
Sey. The Queene (my Lord) is dead.

Mach. She ſhould have dy'd hereafter;
There would have been a time for ſuch a word ;
To morrow, and to morrow, and to morrow,
Creepes in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last ſyllable of Recorded time:
And all our yefterdayes, have lighted Fooles
The way to ſtudy death. Out, out, briefe Candle,
Life's but a walking Shadow, a poore Player,
That ſtruts and frets his houre upon the Stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a Tale
Told by an Ideot, full of found and ſury
Signifying nothing. Enter a Messen ger.

Thou comſt to uſe thy Tongue : thy ſtory quickly.

Mef. My Gracious Lord,

I ſhould report that which I ſay, I ſaw,
But know not how to doo't.

Mach. Well, ſay fir.

Mef. As I did ſand my watch upon the hill
I look't toward Byrnam, and anon me thought
The Wood began to move.

Mach. Lyar, and Slave.

Mef. Let me endure your wrath, if't be not ſo :
Within this three mile may you fee it comming.
I ſay, a moving Grove.

Mach. If thou ſpeak'ſt falſe,
Vpon the next tree ſhalt thou hang alive
Till Famine cling thee : If thy ſpeech be ſooth,
I care not if thou doſt for me as much.
I pull in Reſolution, and begin
To doubt the Equivocation of the Fiend,
That lies like truth. Feare not, till Byrnam Wood
Doe come to Dunſinane, and now a Wood

Comes toward Dunſinane. Arme, arme; and out,
If this which he avouches doe's appeare,
There is nor flying hence, nor tarrying here,
I'gin to be a weary of the Sunne,
And with ſh'eftate o'th'world were now undon.
Ring the alarum Bell, blow Wind, come wracke,
At least wee'l dye with Harneſſe on our backe.
Exeunt.

## Scena Sexta.

Drumme and Colours.

Enter Malcolm, Seyward, Mackduffe, and their Army,
with Boughes.

Mal. Now neere enough :
Your Leavy Screenes throw downe,
And ſhew like thoſe you are : You (worthy Uncle)
Shall with my Couſin, your right Noble ſonne,
Lead our firſt Battell. Worthy Macduffe, and we
Shall take upon's what elle remaines to doe
According to our order.

Sey. Fare you well :

Doe we but find the Tyrants power to night,
Let us be beaten, if we cannot fight.
(breath)
Mach. Make all our Trumpets ſpeake, give them all
Thoſe clamourous Harbingers of blood, and death.
Exeunt.
Alarums continued.

## Scena Septima.

Enter Macbeth.

Mach. They have tyed me to a ſtake, I cannot flye,
But Beare-like I muſt fight the courſe. What's he
That was not borne of woman? Such a one
Am I to feare, or none.

Enter yong Seyward.

T. Sey. What is thy name?

Mach. I hou'l't be afraid to heare it.

T. Sey. No: though thou call'ſt thy ſelfe a hotter name
Than any is in hell.

Mach. My name's Macbeth.

T. Sey. The Divell him ſelfe could not pronounce a Title
More hacefull to mine eare.

Mach. No, nor more fearefull.

T. Sey. Thou lieſt thou abhorred Tyrant, with my ſword
Ile prove the lye thou ſpeak'ſt.

Fight, and yong Seyward flaine.

Mach. Thou waſt borne of Woman;
But ſwords I ſmile at, Weapons laugh to ſcorne,
Brandish'd by man that's of a Woman borne.
Exit.

Alarums. Enter Macduffe.

Mach. That way the noyſe is: Tyrant ſhew thy ſace,
If thou beſt flaine, and with no ſtoakce of mine,
My Wife and Childrens Ghoſts will haunt me ſill :
I cannot ſtrike at: wretched Kernes, whoſe armes
Are hyr'd to beare their Staves; either thou Macbeth,
Or eſſe my ſword with an unbatterred edge
I ſheath againe undeeded. There thou ſhould'ſt be,
By this great clatter, one of greateſt note

Seemes

The Tragedy of Macbeth.

271

Seems bruited. Let me finde him Fortune,
And more I beg not.

Exit.

Alarums.

Enter Malcolm and Seyward.

Seyw. This way my Lord, the Castles gently rendred:
The Tyrants people, on both fides doc fight,
The Noble Thanes doe bravely in the Warre,
The day almost it selfe proffesses yours,
And little is to doe.

Mal. We have met with Foes

That strike beſide us.

Seyw. Enter, Sir, the Castle.

Exeunt.

Alarum.

Enter Macbeth.

Mac. Why should I play the Roman Foole, and dye
On mine owne tword? whiles I fee lives, the gaſhes
Doe better upon them.

Enter Macduffe.

Macd. Turne Hell-hound, turne.

Mac. Of all men eſſe I have avoyded thee :
But get thee backe, my foule is too much charg'd
With blood of thine already.

Macd. I have no words,

My voyce is in my Sword, thou bloodier Villaine

Than tearmes can give thee out.

Fight.

Alarum.

Macb. Thou lefte labour,

Aseafe may't thou the intrenchant Ayre
With thy keene Sword impreſſe, as make me bleed :
Let fall thy blade on vulnerable Crefts,

Ibeare a charmed life, which muſt not yeeld
To one of woman borne.

Macd. Difpaire thy Charme,

And let the Angell whom thou thill haſt ſerv'd
Tell thee, Macduffe was from his Mothers wombe
Votimely ript.

Macb. Accur'd be that tongue that tells me ſo,
For it hath Cow'd my better part of man :
And be theſe Ingling Fiends no more beleev'd,
That palter with us in a double ſenſe,
That keepe the word of promife to our eare,
And breake it to our hope. Ile not fight with thee.

Macd. Then yeeld thee Coward,

And live to be the ſnew, and gaze o'th'ime.
Weel have thee, as our Rarer Monſters are
Painted upon a Pole, and under-writ,

Here may you fee the Tyrant.

Macd. I will not yeeld

To kife the ground before yong Malcolm's feet,
And to be baited with the Rabbles curſe,
Though Byrnam Wood be come to Dunſtane,
And thou oppos'd, being of no woman borne,
Yet I will try the laſt. Before my body,
I throw my warlike Shield: Lay on Macduffe,

And damn'd be him, that firſt cryes hold, enough

Exeunt fighting.

Alarums.

Enter Fighting, and Macbeth flaine.

Retreat, and Flourish. Enter with Drumme and Colours,
Malcolme, Seyward, Roffe, Thanes, and Soldiers.

Mal. I would the Friends we miſſe, were ſafe arriv'd.

Sey. Some muſt goe off: and yet by theſe I fee,
So great a day as this is cheaply bought.

Mal. Macduſſe is miſſing, and your noble Sonne.

Roff. Your ſonne my Lord, ha's paid a Souldiers debt,
He only liv'd but till he was a man.

The which no ſooner had his Proweſſe confirm'd
In the unſhrinking ſtation where he fought,
But like a man he dy'd.

Sey. Then he is dead?

Roffe. I, and brought off the Field; your cauſe of ſorrow
Muſt not be meaſur'd by his worth, for then
It hath no end.

Sey. Had he his hurts before,

Roff. I, on the Front.

Sey. Why then, Gods Souldier be he :
Had I as many fonnes, as I have haires,
I would not wifh them to a fairer death :
And so his Knell is knoll'd.

Mal. Hee's worth more ſorrow,
And that Ile ſpend for him.

Sey. He's worth no more,

They ſay he parted well, and paid his ſcore,

And so God be with him. Here comes newer comfort.

Enter Macduffes with Macbeths head.

Macd. Haile King, for ſo thou art.

Behold where flands

Th'Vturpers curſed head: the time is free :

I fee thee compaſt with thy Kingdomes Pearle.

That ſpeaketh my falutation in their minds :

Whoſe voyces I defire alowd with mine.

Haile King of Scotland.

All. Haile King of Scotland.

Flourish.

Mal. We shall not ſpend a large expeſtance of time.

Before we reckon with your ſeverall loves,

And make us even with you. My Thanes and Kinsmen

Henceforth be Earles, the firſt that ever Scotland.

In ſuch an honor nam'd: What's more to doe

Which would be planted newly with the time,

As calling home our exil'd Friends abroad,

That fled the Snares of watchfull tyranny,

Producing forth the cruell Minifters

Of this dead Butcher, and his Fiend-like Queene ;

Who (as 'tis thought) by ſelfe and violent hands,

Tooke off her life. This, and what needfull eſſe

That cals upon us, by the Grace of Grace,

We will performe in meaſure, time, and place :

So thanks to all at once, and to each one,

Whom we invite, to fee us Crown'd at Scone.

Flourish.

Exeunt omnes.

FINIS.

PP 2

THE TRAGEDY OF
HAMLET, Prince of Denmark.

Atus Primus. Scena Prima.

Enter Barnardo and Franciscus two Centinels.

Barnardo.

Ho's there?

Fran. Nay anfwer me : Stand and unfold
your felfe.

Bar. Long live the King.

Fran. Barnardo ?

Bar. He.

Fran. You come moft carefully upon your houre.

Bar. Tis now (truck twelve) get thee to bed Francifco.

Fran. For this reliefe much thankes : Tis bitter cold,
And I am fickc at heart.

Barn. Have you had quiet Guard ?

Fran. Not a Mouse flurring.

Barn. Well, goodnight. If you doe meet Horatio and

Marcellus, the Rivals of my Watch, bid them make haft.

Enter Horatio and Marcellus.

Fran. I thinke I heare them. Stand : who's there ?

Hor. Friends to this ground.

Mar. And Liege-men to the Dane.

Fran. Give you good night.

Mar. O farewel honest Soldier, who hath reliev'd you?

Fra. Barnardo ha's my place : give you good night.

Exit Francifco.

Mar. Holla Barnardo.

Bar. Say, what is Horatio there ?

Hor. A peecce of him.

Bar. Welcome Horatio, welcome good Marcellus.

Mar. What, ha's this thing appear'd againe to night.

Bar. I have feene nothing.

Mar. Horatio fayes, tis but our phantafie,

And will not let beleefe take hold of him
Touching this dreaded fight, twice feene of us,

Therefore I have intreated him along

With us, to watch the minutes of this night,

That if againe this Apparition come,

He may approve our eyes, and ſpeak to it.

Hor. Tufh, tufh, 'twill not appeare.

Bar. Sit downe a while,

And let us once againe affaile your eares,

That are fo fortificd againſt our Story,

What we two nights have feene.

Hor. Well, fit we downe,

And let us heare Barnardo ſpeak of this.

Barn. Laſt night of all,

Whon yond fame Starre that's Weſtward from the Pole

Had made his courfe t'llume that part of heaven

Where now it burnes, Marcellus and my felfe,
The Bell then beating one.

Mar. Peace, breake thee off :

Enter the Ghoſt,

Looke where it comes againe.

Bar. In the fame figure like the King that's dead.

Mar. Thou art a Scholler ; ſpeak to it Horatio.

Bar. Looke it not like the King ? Marke it Horatio.

Hor. Moſt like : It harrowes me with feare and won-

Bar. It would be ſpoke to.

Mar. Quetſion it Horatio.

Hor. What art thou that uſurp't this time of night,

Together with that faire and warlike forme

In which the Majeſt of buried Denmarke

Did ſometimes march : By heaven I charge thee ſpeake.

Mar. It is offended.

Bar. See, it ſtalkes away.

Hor. Stay : ſpeak ; ſpake : I charge thee, ſpeake

Exit the Ghoſt.

Mar. Tis gone, and will not anſwer.

Bar. How now Horatio ? You tremble & looke pale:

Is not this ſomething more than phantafie?

What thinke you on't ?

Hor. Before my God I might nor this beleeve

Without the ſenſible and true avouch

Of mine owne eyes.

Mar. Is it not like the King ?

Hor. As thou art to thy felfe,

Such was the Armour he had on,

When th'Ambitious Norway combatt'd :

So frown'd he once, when in an angry parle

He ſmot the fledded Pollax on the Ice.

Tis ſtrange.

Mar. Thus twice before, and juſt at this fame houre,
With Martiall ſtalke, hath he gone by our Watch.

Hor. In what particular thought to worke, I know not :
But in the groſſe and ſcope of my opinion,

This boads ſome ſtrange eruption to our State,

Mar. Good now fit downe, and tell me he that knowes

Why this fame ſtrict and moſt obſervant Watch,

So nightly toyles the ſubject of the Land,

And why ſuch daily Caſt of Brazen Cannon

And forſaigne Mart for Implements of Warre :

Why ſuch impreſſe of Shipwrights, whoſe ſore Taske

Do's not divide the Sunday from the weeke,

What might be toward, that this fweaty haſte

Doth make the night joynt-labourer with the day :

Who is't that can informe me ?

Her. That can I,

At

The Tragedy of Hamlet.

273

At left the whisper goes so : Our last King,
Whole Image even but now appear'd to us,
Was (as you know) by Fortinbras of Norway,
(Thereto prick'd on by a molst emulate pride)
Dard'd to the Combate. In which, our valiant Hamlet,
(for this fide of our knowne world efteen'd him)
Did fly this Fortinbras : Who by a feal'd Compact,
Well ratified by Law, and Heraldry,
Did forfeit (with his life) all thofe his Lands
Which he flood feiz'd on, to the Conqueror :
Against the which, a Moity competent
Was gaged by our King : which had retur'n'd.
To the Inheritance of Fortinbras,
Had he bin Vanquifher, as by the fame Cov'nant

And carriage of the Article defign'd,

His fell to Hamlet. Now fir.yong Fortinbras,
Of unimproved mettle, hot and full,

Hath in the skirts of Norway, here and there,
Shark'd up a Lift of Landleſte Reſolutes,
For food and Dyet, to ſome Enterprize

That hath a ſtomake in't : which is no other
(And it doth well appear)eunto our State)

But to recover of us by ſtrong hand

And terms Compulſative, thole foreſaid Lands

Sob by his father loft : and this (I take it)

Is the maine motive of our Preparations,

The fourſe of this our Watch, and the chieſe head

Of this poſt-haſte, and Romage in the Land.

*Enter Ghoſt againe.*

But ſoft, behold : Loe, where it comes againe :

He croſſe it, though it blaſt me. Stay Illuſion :

Ithou haſt any found, or uſe of voyce,

Speake to me. If there be any good thing to be done,

That may to thee doe eſafe, and grace to me; ſpeake to me.

If thou art privy to thy Countries Fate

(Which happily forcknowing may avoyd) Oh ſpeake.

Or, if thou haſt uphoorded in thy life

Extorted Treafure in the wombe of Earth,

(For which, they ſay, you ſpirits oft walke in death)

Speake of it. Stay, and ſpeake. Stop it *Marcelinus*.

Mar. Shall I ſtrike at it with my Partizan?

Hor. Doe it if it will not fland,

Barn. Tis here.

Hor. Tis here.

Mar. Tis gone.

*Exit Ghoſt.*

We doe it wrong, being ſo Majeficall

To offer it the ſhew of Violence,

For it is as the Ayre, invulnerable,

And our vaine blowes, malicious mockery.

Barn. It was about ſpeake, when the Cocke crew.

Hor. And then it ſtarted, like a guilty thing

Upon a fearfull Summons. I have heard,

The Cocke that is the Trumpet to the day,

Doth with his lofty and ſthrill-founding throat

Awake the god of Day : and at his warning,

Whether in Sea, or Fire, in Earth, or Ayre,

The ſextravagant and erring ſpiri't, hyes

To his Confine. And of the truth herein,

This prefent Object made probation.

Mar. It faded on the crowing of the Cocke.

Some ſayes, that ever 'gainſt that feafon comes

Wherein our Saviours Birth is celebrated,

The Bird of Dawning ſingeth all night long :

And (they ſay) no ſpiri't can walke abroad,

The nights are wholſom, then no Planets ſtrike.

No Faery talkes, nor Witch hath power to Charme :

So hallow'd, and ſo gracious is the time.

Hor. So have I heard, and doe in part believee it,

But looke, the Morne in Ruffet Mantle claud:

Walkes o're the Dew of yon high Eafterne hill,

Breake we our Watch up, and by my advice

Let us impart what we have ſene to night

Vnto yong Hamlet. For upon my life,

This ſpirit dumbe to us, will ſpeake to him :

Doe you confent we shall acquaint him with it,

As needfull in our Loves, fitting our duty?

Mar. Let's do't I pray, and I this morning know

Where we shall finde him moſt conveniently.

*Excant.*

## Scena Secunda.

*Enter Claudius, King of Denmark, Gerrud the Queene, Hamlet, Polonius, Laertes, and his Sifter Ophelia, Lords Attendants.*

King. Though yet of Hamlet our deare Brothers death,
The memory be greene : and that it us befitted

To beare our hearts in griefe, and our whole Kingdome

To be contracted in one brow of woe :

Yet fo faireth Difference fought with Nature,

That we with wifelt ſorrow thinke on him,

Together with remembrance of our ſelves.

Therefore our fometimes Sifter, now our Queene,

Th'Imperiall Ioyntreſſe of this warlike State,

Have we, as twere, with a defeated joy,

With one Aufpicious, and one Dropping eye,

With mirth in Funerall, and with Dirge in Marriage,

In equall Scale weighing Delight and Dole

Taken to wife ; nor have we herein barr'd

Your better Wifedomes, which have freely gone

With this affaire along, for all our Thankes.

Now followes, that you know yong *Fortinbras*,

Holding a weake ſuppofall of our worth ;

Or thinking by our late deare Brothers death,

Our State to be diſioynt, and out of Frame,

Colleagued with the dreame of his Advantage ;

He hath not fail'd to pefter us with Meflage,

Importing the ſurrender of thole lands

Loft by his Father, with all Bonds of Law

To our moſt valiant Brother. So much for him.

*Enter Voltimand and Cornelius.*

Now for our ſelſe, and for this time of meeting

Thus much the bufineſſe is. We have here writ

To Norway, Vncle of yong *Fortinbras*,

Who impotent and bedrid, ſcarcely heares

Of this his Nephewes purpofe, to ſuppreſſe

His further gate herein. In that the Levies,

The Lifts, and full proportions are all made

Out of his ſubject : and we here diſpatch

You good Cornelius, and you Voltimand,

For bearing of this greeting to old Norway,

Giving to you no further perſonall power

To bufineſſe with the King, more than the ſcope.

Of theſe dilated Articles allow :

Farewell, and let your haſte commend your duty.

Volt. In that, and all things, will we ſhow our duty.

King. We doubt it nothing, heartily farewell.

*Exit Voltimand and Cornelius.*

And now Laertes, what's the newes with you ?

You

pp 3

["The Tragedy of Hamlet.", "274", "You told us of some suite. What is't *Laertes* ?\nYou cannot speak of Reafon to the Dane,\nAnd loofe your voyce. What wouldst thou beg *Laertes*,\nThat shall not be my Offer, not thy Asking ?\nThe head is not more Native to the heart,\nThe hand more instrumentall to the Mouth,\nThen is the Throne of Denmarke to thy father.\nWhat wouldst thou have *Laertes* ?", "*Laer.* Dread my Lord,", "Your leave and favour to returne to France,\nFrom whence, though willingly I came to Denmarke\nTo fhow my duty in your Coronation,\nYet now I muft confefle, that duty done,\nMy thoughts and wifhes bend againe towards France,\nAnd bow them to your gracious leave and pardon.", "*King.* Have you your Fathers leave ?", "*What fayes Polonsius* ?", "*Pol.* He hath my Lord :", "I doe befeech you give him leave to goe.", "*King.* Take thy faire houre *Laertes*, time be thine,", "And thy beft graces fpend it at thy will :", "But now my Cofin *Hamlet*, and my Sonne ?", "*Ham.* A little more then kin, and leſſe then kind.", "*King.* How is it that the Clouds ſtill hang on you ?", "*Ham.* Not ſo my Lo'd; I am too much ith' Sun.", "*Quee.* Good *Hamlet* caſt thy nightly colour off,", "And let thine eye looke like a Friend on Denmarke.", "Doe not for ever with thy veyled lids", "Seeke for thy Noble Father in the duſt ;", "Thou knowſt tis common, all that live muſt dye,", "Paſſing through Nature, to Eternity.", "*Ham.* I Madam, it is common.", "*Quee.* If it be ;", "Why ſeemes it ſo particular with thee.", "*Ham.* ſeemes Madam ? Nay, it is : I know not ſeemes:", "Tis not alone my Inky Cloake (good Mother)", "Nor Cuſtomary ſuites of ſolemnne Blacke,", "Nor windy ſuſpiration of ſorc'd breath,", "No, nor the fruitfull River in the Eye,", "Nor the deſjected haviour of the Village,", "Together with all Formes, Moods, ſhewes of Griefe,", "That can denote me truly. Theſe indeed ſeeme.", "For they are actions that a man might play :", "But I have that Within, which paffeth ſhow ;", "Theſe, but the Trappings, and the Suites of woe.", "*King.* Tis ſweet and commendable", "In your Nature *Hamlet*,", "To give theſe mourning duties to your Father :", "But you muſt know, your father loft a father,", "That father loft, loft his, and the Survivor bound", "In filial Obligation, for ſome terme", "To doe obſequious Sorrow. But to perſever", "In obſtinate Condolement, is a courſe", "Of impious ſlubbornneſſe. Tis unmanly grieſe,", "It ſhewes a will muſt incorrect to Heaven,", "A heart unfortified, a Mind impatient,", "An Vnderstanding ſimple, and unſchool'd :", "For, what we know muſt be, and is as common", "As any the moſt vulgar thing to fence,", "Why ſhould we in our peeviſh Oppofition", "Take it to heart ? Fye, tis a fault to heaven,", "A fault againſt the Dead, a fault to Nature,", "To Reaſon moſt abſur'd, whose common Theame", "Is death of Fathers, and who ſtill hath cryed,", "From the firſt Coarſe, till he that dyed to day,", "This muſt be ſo. We pray you throw to earth", "This unprevayling woe, and thinke of us,", "As of a Father; For let the world take note,", "You are the moſt immediate to our Throre,", "And with no leſſe Nobility of Love,", "Then that which deereſt Father beares his Sonne,", "Doe I impart towards you. For your intent", "In going backe to Schoole in Wittenberg,", "It is moſt retrogarde to our define :", "And we beſeech you, bend you to remaine", "Heree in the cheere and comfort of our eye,", "Our cheifeſt Courtier Cofin, and our Sonne.", "*Que.* Let not thy Mother loſe her Prayers *Hamlet* :", "I prethee ſlay with us, goe not to Wittenberg.", "*Ham.* I ſhall in all my beſt", "Obey you Madam.", "*King.* Why tis a loving, and a faire Reply,", "Be as our ſelfe in Denmarke. Madam come,", "This gentle and unfor'd accord of *Hamlet*", "Sits smiling to my heart, in grace whereof,", "No jocund health that Denmarke drinkses to day,", "But the great Cannon to the Clowds ſhall tell,", "And the Kings Rouce, the heavens ſhall bruite againe,", "Reſpeaking earthly Thunder. Come away.", "Exeunt.", "*Manet Hamlet.*", "*Ham.* Oh that this too too folid Flenſh, would melt,", "Thaw, and reſolve it ſelfe into a Dew :", "Or that the Everlaſting had not fixt", "His Cannon gainſt ſelfe-flaughter. O God, O God !", "How weary, ſtale, flat, and unprofitable", "Seemes to me all the uſes of this world?", "Fye on't? Oh ſie, ſie, tis an unweeded Garden", "That growes to Seed : things rank, and groſſe in Nature", "Poffeſle it meerely. That it ſhould come to this :", "But two months dead : Nay, not ſo much ; not two,", "So excellent a King, that was to this", "*Hyperion* to a Satyrie : to loving to my Mother,", "That he might not becethe the windes of heaven", "Vifit her face too roughly. Heaven and Earth", "Muſt I remember : why ſhe would hang on him,", "As if increafe of Appetite had growne", "By what it ſed on ; and yet within a month ?", "Let me not thinke on't: Frailty, thy name is woman!", "A little Month, or ere thofe ſhooes were old,", "With which ſhe followed my poore Fathers body", "Like *N' jobe*, all teares. Why ſhe, even ſhe,", "(O heaven ! A beaſt that wants diſcourſe of Reaſon", "Would have mourn'd longer) married with mine Vnkle,", "My fathers brother : but no more like my father,", "Then I to *Hercules*. Within a Month ?", "Ere yet the ſalt of moſt unrighteous Teares", "Had left the fluſhing of her gauled eyes,", "She married. O moſt wicked ſpeed to poſt", "With ſuch dexterity to inceſtuous ſheets :", "It is not, nor it cannot come to good.", "But breake my heart, for I muſt hold my tongue.", "*Enter Horatio, Barnard, and Adarcellus.*", "*Hor.* Haile to your Lordship.", "*Ham.* I am glad to fee you well :", {"bbox": [702, 1219, 92

["The Tragedy of Hamlet.", "Marcellus.", "Mar-My good Lord.", "Ham. I am very glad to see you : good even fir.", "But what in faith make you from Wistenberge.", "Hor. A Truant difposition, good my Lord.", "Ham. I would not have your enemy say so ;", "Nor shall you do mine eare that violence,", "To take it trufter of your owne report", "Againft your selfe. I know you are no Truant :", "But what is your affaire in Elfenour ?", "Wee’teach you to drinke deepe ere you depart.", "Hor. My Lord, I came to see your Fathers Funerall.", "Ham. I prythe you do not mocke me(fellow Student)", "I thinke it was to see my Mothers wedding.", "Hor. Indeed my Lord, it followeth hard upon.", "Ham. Thrift, thrift, Horatio: the Funerall Bak'd meats,", "Did coldly furnifh forth the Marriage Tables ;", "Would I had met my dearest Foe in heaven,", "Ere I had ever feene that day Horatio,", "My father, me thinkes I see my father.", "Hor. Oh where my Lord ?", "Ham. In my minds eye (Horatio.)", "Hor. I saw him once, he was a goodly King.", "Ham. He was a man, take him for all in all :", "I should not looke upon his like againe.", "Hor. My Lord, I thinke I saw him yeaffernight.", "Ham. Saw ? Who ?", "Hor. My Lord, the King your Father.", "Ham. The King my father ?", "Hor. Season your admiration for a while", "Withan attent eare ; till I may deliver", "Vpon the witneffe of these Gentlemen,", "This marvell to you.", "Ham. For heavens love let me heare.", "Hor. Two nights together, had these Gentlemen", "(Marcellus and Barnardo) on their Watch", "In the dead wafe and middle of the night", "Beene thus encountréd. A figure like your father.", "Arm'd at all points exacely, Cap a Pe,", "Appeares before them, and with folemne March", "Goes flow and flately : By them thrice he walkt,", "By their oppreft and feare-furprized eyes,", "Within his Truncheons length; whilft they beſtill'd", "Almoſt to Jelly with the Act of feare,", "Stand dubme and ſpeake not to him. This to me", "Indreadfull fecrecy impart they did,", "And I with them the third night kept the Watch,", "Whereas they had deliver'd both in time,", "Forme of the thing ; each word made true and good,", "The Apparition comes. I knew your Father :", "Thee hands are not more like,", "Ham. But where was this ?", "Mar. My Lord upon the platforme where we watcht.", "Ham. Did you not ſpeake to it ?", "Hor. My Lord, I did ;", "But anſwer made it none : yet once me thought", "It lifted up it head, and did addreſſe", "It ſelbe to motion, like as it would ſpeake :", "But even then, the morning Cocke crew lowd ;", "And at the found it ſhrunke in haſte away,", "And vanifht from our fight.", "Ham. Tis very ſtrange.", "Hor. As I doe live my honourable Lord 'tis true ;", "And we did thinke it writ downe in our duty", "To let you know of it.", "Ham. Indeed, indeed Sirs ; but this troubles me.", "Hold you the Watch to night ?", "Both. We doe my Lord.", "Ham. Arm'd, lay you ?", "Both. Arm'd, my Lord.", "Ham. From top to toe ?", "Both. My Lord, from head to foote.", "Ham. Then faw you not his face ?", "Hor. O yes, my Lord, he wore his Beawer up!", "Ham. What, lookt he frowningly ?", "Hor. A countenance more in forrow than in anger.", "Ham. Pale, or red ?", "Hor. Nay, very pale.", "Ham. And fixt his eyes upon you ?", "Hor. Moſt conſtantly.", "Ham. I would I had beene there.", "Hor. It would have much amaſ'd you.", "Ham. Very like, very like : ſtaid it long ? (dred.)", "Hor. While one with moderate haſte might tell a hun-\nAll, Longer, longer.", "Hor. Not when I faw't.", "Ham. His Beard was grilſy ?", "Hor. It was, as I have ſeene it in his life,", "A Sable Silver'd.", "(gaine.)", "Ham. Ile watch to night; perchance twill walke a", "Hor. I warrant you it will.", "Ham. If it aſſume my noble fathers perſon,", "Ile ſpeake to it, though Hell it ſelbe should gape", "And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all,", "If you have hitherto conceaſt this fight ;", "Let it be trebble in your filence ſtill :", "And whatsoever ſelbe shall hap to night,", "Give it an underſtanding, but no tongue ;", "I will require your loves; ſo, fare ye well :", "Vpon the Platforme twixt eleven and twelve,", "Ile viſit you.", "All. Our duty to your Honour.", "Exeunt.", "Ham. Your love, as mine to you : farewell.", "My fathers ſpirit in Armes ? All is not well :", "I doubt ſome foule play : would the night were come ;", "Till then ſit till my foule ; foule deeds will rile,", "Though all the earth orchemel them to mens eyes. Exit.", "Scena Tertia.", "Enser Laertes and Ophelia.", "Laer. My neceſſaries are imbark't, farewell :", "And fifter, as the Winds give benefit,", "And Convoy is affiſtant; doe not fleep,", "But let me heare from you,", "Ophel. Doe you doubt that ?", "Laer. For Hamlets, and the trifling of his favours,", "Hold it a fashion and a toy in Bloud ;", "A Violet in the youth of Primy Nature ;", "Froward, not permanent ; fweet not laſting", "The ſuppliance of a minute ; No more.", "Ophel. No more but so.", "Laer. Thinke it no more :", "For nature creſſant does not grow alone,", "In thewes and Bulke : but as his Temple waxes,", "The inward ſervice of the minde and foule", "Growes wide withall. Perhaps he loves you now,", "And now no foyle nor cautell doth beſmerch", "The vertue of his ſe

["The Tragedy of Hamlet.", "276", "His greatneſſe weigh'd,his will is not his owne;", "For he himselfe is ſubject to his Birth:", "He may not, as unvalued perſons doe,", "Carve for himselfe; for, on his choyce depends", "The fanſity and health of the whole ſtate.", "And therefore muſt his choyce be circumſcrib'd\nVnto the voyce and yeelding of that body,", "W hereof he is the head. Then if he ſays he loves you,\nIt ſits your wifedome ſo farre to believe it;", "As he in his peculiar ſeet and force", "May give his ſaying deed: which is no further,\nThan the maine voyce of *Deumarke* goes withall.", "T hen weigh what leſſe your honour may ſultaine,\nIf with two credent eare you lift his ſongs;", "Or leſſe your heart; or your chaſte treaſure open\nTo his unmaſtred importunity.", "Feare it *Ophelia*, ſeare it my deare Sifter,", "And keepe within the reare of your affection;", "Out of the flot and danger of defire.", "The charielt Maid is prodigall enough,", "If the unmaske her ſeaty to the Moone :", "Vertue it ſelfe ſcapes not calumnious ſtoaks,", "The Canker galls the infant of the Spring", "Too oft before the Buttons is diſclos'd,", "And in the morne and liquid dew of Youth,", "Contagious blaſtments are moſt imminent.", "Be wary than, beſt ſafety lies in ſeare;", "Youth to it ſelfe rebels, though none eſſe neere.", "*Ophe.* I ſhall th' effect of this good Leſſon keepe,\nAs watchmen to my heart: but good my Brother,\nDoe not as ſome ungracious Paffors doe,\nShew me the ſteepe and thorny way to heaven;\nWhilſt like a puſt and reckleſſe Libertine\nHimſelfe, the Primroſe path of dalliance treads,\nAnd reakes not his owne reade.", "Laer. Oh, ſcare me not.", "Enter Polonius.", "I ſtay too long; but here my Father comes :", "A double bleſſing is a double grace;", "Occafion ſmiles upon a ſecond leave.", "*Polon.* Yet here *Laertes* ? Aboord, aboord for ſhame,\nThe wind fits in the ſhoulder of your ſaile,\nAnd you are ſtaſt for there : my bleſſing with you :\nAnd theſe few Precepts in thy memory,\nSee thou Character. Give thy thoughts no tongue,\nNor any unproportion'd thought his Act :\nBe thou familiar ; but by no meanes vulgar :\nThe friends thou haſt, and their adoption tride,\nGrapple them to thy ſoule, with hoopes of Steele :\nBut doe not dull thy palme, with entertainment\nOf each whatch't, unfledg'd Comrade. Beware\nOf entrance to a quarrell : but being in\nBear't that th'oppoſed may beware of thee.\nGive every man thine eare; but few thy voyce :\nTake each mans ſenſure : but reſerve thy judgement :\nCoſtly thy habit as thy purſe can buy ;\nBut not expreſt in fancy ; rich, not gaudy :\nFor the apparell oft proclaimes the man.\nAnd they in France of the beſt ranke and ſtation,\nAre of a moſt ſeleft and generous cheſt in that.\nNeither a borrower, nor a lender be ;\nFor Loane oft loſes both it ſelfe and friend :\nA borrowing duls the edge of Husbandry.\nThis above all; to thine owne ſelfe be true :\nAnd it muſt follow, as the Night the Day,\nThou canſt not then be ſalſe to any man.", "Farewell: my bleſſing ſeafon this in thee.", "Laer. Moſt humbly doe I take my leave, my Lord,", "*Polon.* The time invites you, goe, your ſervants tend.", "Laer. Farewell, *Ophelia*, and remember well", "What I have faſt to you.", "*Ophe.* Tis in my memory lockt,", "And you your ſelfe ſhall keepe the Key of it.", "Laer. Farewell.", "Exit Laer.", "*Polon.* What ilſt *Ophelia*, he hath ſaid to you?", "*Ophe.* So plesame you, ſothing touching the *La Hamlet*.", "*Polon.* Marry, well bethought :", "Tis told me he hath very oft of late", "Given private time to you; and you your ſelfe", "Have of your audience beene moſt free and bounteous,", "If it be so, as tis put on me ;", "And that in way of caution: I muſt tell you,", "You do not underſand your ſelfe so clearly,", "As it behoves your Daughters, and your honour.", "What is betweene you, give me up the truth?", "*Ophe.* He hath my Lord of late, made many tenders", "Of his affection to me.\n*Polon.* Affection, pub. You ſpeak like a Greene Girle,\nVnſhifted in ſuch perilious circumſtance.", "Doe you believe his tenders, as you call them ?", "*Ophe.* I doe not know, my Lord, what I should thinke.", "*Polon.* Marry, Ile teach you; thinke your ſelfe a Baby,\nThat you have tane his tenders for true pay,\nWhich are not ſtaring. Tender your ſelfe more dearely ;\nOr not to cracke the wind of the poore Prafte,\nRoaming it thus, you'l tender me a ſoole.", "*Ophe.* My Lord, he hath importun'd me with love,\nIn honourable ſ fashion.", "*Polon.* I, ſ fashion you may call it, goe to, goe to.", "*Ophe.* And hath given countenance to his ſpeech,\nMy Lord, with all the vowes of heaven.", "*Polon.* I, Springes to catch Woodcocks. I doe know\nWhen the blood burnes, how pioſadill the ſoule\nGives the tongue vowes: theſe blazes, daughter,\nGiving more light than heat; extinct in both,\nEven in their promife, as it is a making ;", "You muſt not take for fire. For this time Daughter,\nBe ſomewhat ſcanter of your Maiden prefence,\nSet your entreatments at a higher rate,", "Then a command to parley. For Lord *Hamlet*,\nBelieve ſo much in him, that he is yong,\nAnd with a larger tether may he walke,\nThen may be given you. In ſew, *Ophelia*,", "Doe not believee his vowes; for they are Broakers,\nNot of the eye, which their Inveſtments ſhew :", "But meere implorators of unholy Sutes,", "Breathing like ſanſtified and pious bonds,", "The better to beguile. This is for all :", "I would not, in plaine terms, from this time forth,\nHave you ſo flander any moment leifure,", "As to give words or talke with the Lord *Hamlet*:", "Looke too't; I charge you; come your way.", "*Ophe.* I ſhall obey my Lord.", "Exeunt.", "Enter Hamlet, Horatio, Marcellus.", "Ham. The Ayre bites ſhrew'dly: is it vety cold?", "Hor. It is a nipping and an eager ayre.", "Ham. What houre now ?", "Hor. I thinke it lacke of twelve.", "Mar. No, it is ſrooke.", "(ſeafon,", "Hor. Indeed I heard it not: then it draws neere the\nWherein the Spirit held his wont to walke.\nWhat", "What d' you", "Ham.", "Keeps", "And as", "The Ke", "The triu", "Hor.", "Ham.", "And to", "And to", "More h", "Hor.", "Ham.", "Be thou", "Bring w", "Be thy e", "Thou co", "That I w", "King, F", "Let me", "Why th", "Wherein", "Hath op", "To caſt", "That th", "Revilſt

The Tragedy of Hamlet.

277

What does this meane my Lord? (roule,

Ham. The King doth wake to night, and takes his
Keepes waffles, and the swaggering upfpring reeles,
And as he dreines his draughts of Renif downe,
The Kettle Drum and Trumpet thus bray out
The triumph of his pledge.

Hor. It is a custome ?

Ham. I marry is't :

And to my mind, though I am native here,
And to the manner borne : It is a custome
More honour'd in the breach, than the obfervance.

Enter Ghoſt.

Hor. Looke my Lord it comes.

Ham. Angels and Minifters of grace defend us :

Bethou a spirit of health, or Goblin damn'd,
Bring with thee ayres from heaven, or blaſts from hell,
Bethy events wicked or charitable,
Thou com'ſt in ſuch a quæſtible ſhape
That I will ſpeake to thee. Ile call thee Hamlet,
King, Father, Royall Dane : Oh, oh, anſwer me,
Let me not burſt in ignorance ; but tell
Why thy Canoniz'd bones heareſed in death,
Have burſt their Cearments, why the Sepulcher
Wherein we faw thee quietly Inurn'd,
Hathop'd thy ponderous and Marble jawes,
To caſt thee up againe ? What may this meane ?
That thou dead Coarſe againe in compleat ſleele,
Revifſt thus the glimpſes of the Moone,
Making night hideous ? And we fooles of Nature,
So horridly to ſhake our diſpoſition,
With thoughts beyonq thee reaches of our ſonles,
Say why is this, wherefore ? what should we doe ?

Ghoſt Beckons Hamlet.

Hor. It beckens you to goe away with it,
As if it ſome impartment did deſire
To you alone.

Mar. Looke with what courteous action
It waſts you to a more removed ground :
But doe not goe with it.

Hor. No, by no meanees.

Ham. It will not ſpeake : then will I follow it.

Hor. Doe not my Lord.

Ham. Why, what should be the ſcare ?

I do not ſet my life at a Pins fee ;

And for my ſoule what can it do to that ?

Being a thing immortall as it ſelfe :

It waves me forth againe; Ile follow it.

Hor. What if it tempt you toward the Floud my Lord ?
Or to the dreadfull Sonnet of the Cliffe,

That beetles o're my bafe into the Sea,

And there affumes ſome other horrible forme,
Which might deprive your Soveraignty of Reaſon,
And draw you into madneſſe : thinke of it.

Ham. It waſts me ſtill : goe on, Ile follow thee.

Mar. You ſhall not goe my Lord.

Ham. Hold off your hand.

Hor. Be rul'd, you shall not goe.

Ham. My fate cries out,

And makes each petty Artige in this body,
As hardy as the Nemian Lions Nerve :

Still am I call'd; Vnhand me Gentlemen :

By heaw'n, Ile make a Ghoſt of him that lets me :

I lay away, goe on; Ile follow thee.

Exeunt Ghoſt and Hamlet.

Hor. He waxes desperate with imagination.

Mar. Let's follow ; tis not fit thus to obey him.

Hor. Have after, to what illue will this come ?

Mar. Something is rotten in the State of Denmark.

Hor. Heaven will direct it.

Mar. Nay, let's follow him.

Enter Ghoſt and Hamlet.

Ham. Where wilt thou lead me ? ſpeake; Ile goe no
Ghoſt. Marke me.

Ham. I will.

Gboſt. My honour is almoſt come,

When I to fulphuous and tormenting Flames
Moft render up my ſelfe.

Ham. Alas poore Ghoſt.

Ghoſt. Pitty me not but lend thy ſerious hearing

To what I ſhall unfold.

Ham. ſpeake, I am bound to heare.

Ghoſt. So art thou to revenge, when thou ſhalt heare.

Ham. What ?

Ghoſt. I am thy fathers ſpirit.

Doom'd for a certaine terme to walke the night ;

And for the day confin'd to ſalt in fiers,

Till the foule crimes done in my dayes of Nature,

Are burnt and purg'd away ? But that I am forbid

To tell the ſecrets of my Prifon-houſe ;

I could a Tale unfold, whoſe lightelt word

Would harrow up thy foule, freeze thy yong blood,

Make thy two eyes like Starres, ſtart from their Spheres,

Thy knotty and combined lockes to part,

And each particular haire to ſtand an end,

Like Quills upon the fretfull Porpentine :

But this eternal blazon muſt not be

To cares of Fleſh and Blood; lift Hamle, oh lift,

If thou didſt ever thy deare father love.

Ham. Oh heaven !

Ghoſt. Revenge his ſoule and moſt unnaturall Murther.

Ham. Murther ?

Ghoſt. Murther moſt ſoule, as in the beſt it is ;

But this moſt ſoule, ſtrange, and unnaturall,

Ham. Hafte, hafte me to know it,

That I with wings as Iwift

As Meditation, or the thoughts of Love,

May I wceepe to my Revenge.

Ghoſt. I find thee ap;

And duller should it thou be than the fat weed

That rots it ſelfe in cafe, on Lethe W h arfe,

Would'rt thou not ſtire in this. Now Hamleſt heare :

It's given out, that ſleeping in mine Orchard,

A Serpent ſtung me : to the whole eare of Denmarke,

Is by a forged proceſe of my death

Rankly abus'd: But know thou noble youth,

The Serpent that did fling thy fathers life,

Now weares his Crowne.

Ham. O my Propheticke ſoule : mine Vncle ?

Ghoſt. I, that ineſtuous, that adulterate Beaſt

With witchcraft of his wits, hath traiterous gifts,

Oh wicked wit, and gifts, that have the power

So to ſeduce ? Won to this fameſull Luſt

The will of my moſt ſeeming vertuous Queene :

Oh Hamlet, what a falling off was there,

From me, whoſe love was of that dignity,

That it went hand in hand, even with the Vow

I made to her in Marriage ; and to decline

Upon a Wretch, whoſe naturall gifts were peore

To thofe of mine. But Vertue, as it never will be moved,

Though Lewdneſſe court it in a ſhape of heaven :

So Luſt, though to a radiant Angell link'd,

Will fate it ſelfe in a Celeſtiall bed, and prey on Garbage.

But

The Tragedy of Hamlet.

But soft, me thinks I feent the Mornings Ayres:
Briefe let me be : Sleeping within mine Orchard,
My cuftome alwayse in the afternoone;
Vpon my fecure howre thy Vncle ſtole
With juyce of curled Hobenon in a Violl,
And in the Porches of mine cares did poudre
The leaperous Distilment; wholeſe effect
Holds ſuch an enmity with bloud of Man,
That ſwift as Quick-filver it courſes through
The naturall Gates and Allies of the body;
And with a fodaine vigour it doth poffet
And curd, like Aygre droppings into Milke,
The thin and wholſome blood: ſo did it mine;
And a moſt inſtant Tetter bak'd about,
Moft Lazar-like, with vile and loathome cruſt,
All my ſmooth body.

Thus was I, floeping, by a Brothers hand,
Of Life, of Crowne, and Queene at once diſpatcht:
Cut off even in the bloſſomes of my Sinne,
Vnhozzled, diſappointed, unnaneld,
No reckoning made, but ſent to my account
With all my imperfections on my head,
Oh, horrible, Oh horrible, moſt horrible :
If thou haſt nature in thee beare it not;
Let not the Royall Bed of Denmarke be
A Couch for Luxury and damned Inceſt,
But howfeever thou purſueſt this Act,
Taint not thy mind; nor let thy ſoule contrive
Againſt thy Mother ought; leave her to heaven,
And to that ſhorne that in her boſome lodge,
To pricke and fling her. Fare thee well at once,
The Glow-worme ſhowes the Matine to be neere,
And gins to pale his uneffectuall Fire :
Adue, adue, Hamlet : remember me.

Exit.

Ham. Oh all you hoſt of heaven ! Oh Earth; what eſſe?
And ſhall I couple hell? Oh ſie : hold my heart ;
And you my finnewes, grow not inſtant Old ;
But beare me ſtiffely up: remember thee ?
I, who poore Ghoſt, while memory holds a ſeate
In this diſtraſted Globe : Remember thee ?
Yea, from the Table of my Memory,
Ile wipe away all trivall fond Records,
All fawes of bookees, all formes, all preſſures paff,
That youth and obſervation copped there;
And thy Commandment all alone ſhall live
Within the booke and Volume of my braine,
Vnmixt with baſer matter ; yes, yes, by heaven :
Oh moſt pernicious woman !
Oh Villaine, Villaine, ſmiling damned Villaine !
My Tables, my Tables : meet it is I ſeit downe,
That one may ſmile, and ſmile and be a Villaine ;
At leaſt I'm ſure it may be ſo in Denmarke ;
So Vnkle there you are : now to my word ;
It is; Adue, Adue, Remember me : I have ſworn't.
Hor. & Mar. within. My Lord, my Lord.

Enter Horatio and Marcellus.

Mar. Lord Hamlet.

Hor. Heaven ſecure him.

Mar. So be it.

Hor. Illo, ho, ho, my Lord.

Ham. Hillo, ho, ho, boy ; comebird, come.

Mar. How ilſt my Noble Lord ?

Hor. What newes, my Lord ?

Ham. Oh wonderful !

Hor. Good my Lord tell it.

Ham. No you'll reveale it.

Hor. Not I, my Lord, by heaven.

Mar. Nor I, my Lord.

(thinke it?)

Ham. How ſay you then, would heart of man once
But you'll be ſecre ?

Both. I, by heaſ'ne, my Lord.

Ham. There's ne'er a villaine dwelling in all Denmark
But he's an arrant Knave.

Hor. There needs no Ghoſt my Lord, come from the
Grave to tell us this.

Ham. Why right, you are i'th'right ;
And ſo without more circumſtance at all,
I hold it fit that we ſhake hands, and part :
You, as your buſineſſe and deſires ſhall point you :
For every man has buſineſſe and deſire,
Such as it is : and for mine owne poore part,
Looke you, Ile goe pray.

Hor. Theſe are but wilde and hurling words, my Lord.

Ham. I'm forry they offend you heartily :

Yes faith, heartily.

Hor. There's no offence my Lord.

Ham. Yes, by Saint Patricke, but there is my Lord,
And much offence too, touching this Vifion here :
It is an honeſt Ghoſt, that let me tell you :
For your deſire to know what is betweene us,
O're-maſter't as you may. And now good friends,
As you are Friends, Schollers, and Souldiers,
Give me one poore requeſt.

Hor. What is't my Lord? we will.

Ham. Never make knowne what you have ſeeneto

Both. My Lord, we will not.

(night,

Ham, Nay, but ſwear't.

Hor. In faith my Lord, not I.

Mar. Nor I my Lord : in faith.

Ham. Vpon my Sword,

Mar. We have ſworne my Lord already.

Ham. Indeed, upon my ſword, indeed.

Gho. Sweare.

Ghoſt cries under the Stage.

Ham. Ah ha boy, ſayeſt thou ſo. Art thou there true-
penny? Come on , you heare this fellow in the ſelleridge.
Conſent to ſweare.

Hor. Propoſe the oath my Lord.

Ham. Never to ſpeak of this that you have ſeene,
Sweare by my Sword.

Gho. Sweare.

Ham. Hic & ubique ? Then weel ſhift for ground,
Come hither Gentlemen,

And lay your hands againe upon my ſword.

Never to ſpeak of this that you have heard :
Sweare by my Sword.

Ghoſt. Sweare.

(ſaſt ?)

Ham. Well faſd old Mole, can't ſt worke i'th'ground ſo
A worthy Pioner, once more remove good friend.
Hor. Oh day and night, but this is wondrous ſtrange.
Ham. And therefore as a ſtranger give it welcome.

There are more things in heaven and earth Horatio,
Than are dream't of in our Philofophy. But come,
Here as before, never ſo helpe you mercy,

How ſtrange or odde ſo ſere I beare my ſelſe ;
(As I perchance hereafter ſhall thinke meet
To put an Anticke diſpoſition on :)

That you at ſuch time ſeeing me, never ſhall

With Armes encombreſt thus, or thus, head ſhake ;

Or by pronouncing of ſome doubt full phraſe ;

As well, we know, or we could, and if we would,

Or if we lift to ſpeak ; or there be and if there might,
Or ſuch ambiguous giving out to note.

That

280

The Tragedy of Hamlet.

And leads the will to desperate Vndertakings,
As oft as any passion under heaven,
That does afflict our Natures. I am forry,
What have you given him any hard words of late?

Ophe. No my good Lord: but as you did command,
I did repell his Letters, and deny'd
His accesse to me.

Pol. That hath made him mad.
I am forry that with better speed and judgement
I had not quoted him. I feare he did but trifle,
And meant to wracke thee: but behew my jealousie:
It feemes it is as proper to our Age,
To caft beyond our felves in our opinions,
As it is common for the younger fort
To lacke diferetion. Come goe we to the King, (move
This muft be knowne, which being kept clofe might
More griefe to hide, than hate to utter love.
Exeunt.

## Scena Secunda,

Enter King, Queene Rofincffe, and Guildenstare Cumalys.

King. Welcome dear Rofincros and Guildenstare.
Moreover, that we much did long to fee you,
The need we have to ufe you, did provoke
Our hafty fending. Something have you heard
Of Hamlets transformation: to I call it,
Since not th'exterior, nor the inward man
Relembles that it was. What it should be
More than his fathers death, that thus hath put him
So much from th'understanding of himfelfe,
I cannot deeme of. I intreat you both,
That being off Yong dayes brought up with him:
And fine ſo Neighbour'd to his youth, and humour,
That you vouchtafe your reſt here in our Court
Some little time: ſo by your Companies
To draw him on to pleafures, and to gather
So much as from Occafions you may gieane,
That open'd lies within our remedy,

Qu. Good Gentlemen, he hath much talk'd of you,
And Iure I am, two men there are not living,
To whom he more adheres. If it will pleafe you
To ſhow us ſo much gentry and good will,
As to expend your time with us a while,
For the ſupply and profit of our hope,
Your Vifitation ſhall receive ſuch thanks,
As fits a Kings remembrance.

Rofin. Both your Maieſties

Might by the Soveraigne power you have of us,
Put your dread pleafures, more into command
Than to Entreaty.

Guil. We both obey,
And here give up our ſelves, in the fullbent,
To lay our Services freely at your feet.
To be commanded,

Kin. Thankes Rofincros, and gentle Guildenſtare.

Qu. Thankes Guildenſtare and gentle Rofincros,
And I beſech you infantly to viſit
My too-much changed ſonne.

Goe ſome of ye,
And bring the Gentlemen where Hamlet is.

Guil. Heavens make our prefence and our practifes,
Pleasant and helpefull to him.
Exeunt.

Queen. Amen.

Enter Polonius.

Pol. The Ambaſladors from Norway, my good Lord,
Are joyfully return'd.

King. Thou ſhalt haſt bin the father of good Newes.

Pol. Have I, my Lord? Affure you, my good Liege,
I hold my duty, as I hold my Soule,
Both to my God, one to my gracious King:
And I doe thinke, or else this braine of mine
Hunts not the traille of Policy, ſo ſure
As I have us'd to doe, that I have found
The very caufe of Hamlets Lunacy.

Kin. Oh ſpeake of that, that I doe long to heare.

Pol. Give firſt admittance to th' Ambaſladors,
My Newes ſhall be the Newes to that great Feaſt.

King. Thy ſelfe doe grace to them, and bring them in.
He tels me my ſweet Queene, that he hath found
The head and ſoure of all your fonnes diſtemper.
Qu. I doubt it is no other, but the maine,
His father's death, and our ort-hafty Marriage.

Enter Polonius, Voltimand, and Cornelius.

King. Well, we ſhall firſt him. Welcome good Friends:
Say Voltimand, what from our Brother Norway?

Velt. Moſt faire returne of Greetings, and Deſires.
Vpon our firſt, he ſent out to ſuppreſſe
His Nephewes Levies, which to him appear'd
To be a preparation 'gainſt the Polak:
But better look'd into, he truly found
It was againſt your Highneſt, whereat grieved,
That ſo his Sickneſſe, Age, and Impotence
Was falſely borne in hand, ſends out Arreſts
On Fortinbras, which he (in brief) obeyes,
Receives rebuke from Norway: and in fine,
Makes Vow before his Vncle, never more
To give th'aflay of Armes againſt your MaJEſty.
Whereon old Norway, overcome with joy,
Gives him three thousand Crownes in Annuall Fee,
And his Commiſſion to imploy thofe ſeuldiers
So levied as before, againſt the Polak:
With an intreat herein further ſhewne,
That it might picaſe you to give quiet paſſe
Through your Dominions for his enterprize,
On ſuch regards of Safety and allowance,
As therein are ſet downe.

King. It likeſus well:
And at our more confider'd time wee'l read,
Anſwer, and thinke upon this Buſineſſe.
Meane time we thanke you, for your well-look't labour.
Goe to your reſt, at night wee'l Feaſt together.

Moſt welcome home.

Exit Ambaf.

Pol. This buſineſſe is very well ended.
My Liege and Madrm, to expeſtulate
What Majeftie should be, what Duty is,
Why day is day; night, night; and time is time,
Were nothing but to walſe Night, Day, and Time.
Therefore, ſince Brevitie is the Soule of Wit,
And tediousneſſe, the limbes and outward flourishes,
I will be briefe. Your Noble Sonne is mad :
Mad call it I; for to define true Madneſſe,
What is't, but to be nothing eſle but mad.
But let that gce.

Qu. More matter, with kſſe Art.

Pol. Madam, I ſware I uſe no Art at all:
That he is mad: 'tis true: 'tis true, tis pitty,
And pitty it is true: A foolish figure,
But farewell it: for I will uſe no Art.

Mad

The Tragedy of Hamlet.

281

Mad let us grant him then: and now remaines

That we find out the the caufe of this effect,
Or rather say, the caufe of this defect ;

For this effect defective, comes by caufe,
Thus it remaines, and the remainder thus. Perpend.

I have a daughter: have, whilft she is mine,

Who in her Duty and Obedience, marke,
Hath giveu me this: now gather, and furmife.

The Letter.

To the Celestiall, and my Soules Idol, the most beautified O-
phelius.

Thats an ill Phraſe, a vilde Phraſe, beautified is a vilde
Phraſe : but you shall heare theſe in her excellent white
boſome, theſe.

Quee. Came this from Hamlet to her.

Pol. Good Madam ſtay a while, I will be faithfull.

Deubt thou, the Starres are fire,

Deubt, that the Sunne doth move :

Deubt Truth to be a Lier,

But never Doubt, I love,

O deere Ophelia, I am ill at theſe Number : I have not Art
wrecken my grones ; but that I love thee best, oh moſt Bef
believe it.

Adieu.

Thine evermore moſt deere Lady, whilft this
Machine is to him, Hamlet.

This in Obedience hath my daughter ſhew'd me:
And more above hath his ſoliciting,

As they fell out by Time, by meaneſ, and place;
All given to mine eare,

King. But how hath she receiv'd his Love ?

Pol. What do you thinke of me ?

King. As of a man, faithfull and honorable.

Pol. I would faire prove fo. But what might you think?

When I had feene this hot love on the wing,

As I perceived it, I muſt tellyou that
Before my daughter told me, what might you
Or my deere Majefty you Queene heere, thinke,
If I had playd the Deske or Table-booke,
Or given my heart a winking, mute and dumbe;]
Or look'd upon this Love, with idle fight,

Or look'd upon this Love, with idle fight,
What might you thinke ? No, I went round to worke,

And my yong Miftris thus I did beſpeak;
Lord Hamlet is a Prince out of thy Sphere,

Lord Hamlet is a Prince out of thy Sphere,
This muſt not be: and then, I precepts gave her,

That he should locke her ſelfe from his Refort,
Admit no Mefſengers, receive no Tokens :

Which done, ſhe tooke the fruits of my Advice,
And he repuſt, a ſhort Tale to make,

Fell into a Sadneſſe, then into a Faſt,
Thence to a Watch, thence into a Weakeneſſe,
Thence to a Lightneſſe, and by this declenſion

Into the Madneſſe whereon now he raves,
And all we waile for.

King. Doe you thinke this is this ?

Que. It may be very likely.

Pol. Hath there bene ſuch a time, Ide faire know what,
That I have politively ſaid, tis fo,

When it prov'd otherwife ?

King. Not that I know.

Pol. Take this from this, if this be otherwife,
If Circumſtances lead me, I will find

Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeed
Within the Center.

King. How may we try it further ?

Pol. You know ſometimes

He walks foure houres together, heere

In the Lobby.

Quee. So he has indeed.

Pol. At ſuch a time Ile loofe my Daughter to him,
Be you and I behinde an Arrs then,

Marke the encounter : If he love her not,

And be not from his reaſon falne thereon ;
Let me be no Aſſiſtant for a State,

And keepe a Farme and Carters,

King. We will try it.

Enter Hamlet reading on a Booke.

Que. But looke where fadly the poore wretch
Comes reading.

Pol. Away I doe beſeeth you, both away,
Ile boord him preferntly.

Exit King and Queene.

Oh give me leave. How does my good Lord Hamlet.

Ham. Well, ged-a-mercy.

Pol. Doe you know me, my Lord ?

Ham. Excellent, excellent well: y'are a Fifehmonger

Pol. Not I my Lord.

Ham. Then I would you were ſo honefull a man.

Pol. Honeſt, my Lord?

Ham. I fir, to be honefull as this world goes, is to be
one man pick'd out of two thouſand.

Pol. Thats very true, my Lord.

Ham. For if the Sun breed Magots in a dead dogge,
being a good kiling Carrion —

Have you a daughter ?

Pol. I have my Lord.

Ham. Let her not walke i'th Sunne: Conception is a
bleſſing, but not as your daughter may conceive. Friend
looke too't.

Pol. How ſay you by that ? Still harping on my daugh-
ter: yet he knew me not at firſt; he ſaid I was a Fifehmon-
ger : he is farre gone, farre gone : and truly in my youth,
I ſuſſred much extreamity for love: very neere this. Ile
ſpeak to him againe. What doe you read my Lord ?

Ham. Words, words, words.

Pol. What is the matter, my Lord ?

Ham. Betweene whom ?

Pol. I meane the matter you meane, my Lord.

Ham. Slanders fir: for the Satyricall ſlave fayes here,
that old men have gray Beards; that their faces are wrinkled;
their eyes purging thicke Amber, or Plum-Tree
Gumme : a d that they have a plentifull locke of Wit,
together with weake hammes. All which Sir, though I
moſt powerfully, and potently believe, yet I hold it
not Honely to have it thus fet downe: For you your
ſelfe Sir, should be old as I am, if like a Crab you could
goe backward.

Pol. Though this be madneſſe.

Yet there is Method in't: will you walke
Out of the ayre my Lord?

Ham. Into my Grave ?

Pol. Indeed that is out oth' Ayre :
How pregnant (sometimes) his Replies are ?

A happineſſe,
That often Madneſſe hits on,

Which Reaſon and Sanity could not
So proſperonly be deliver'd of.

I will leave him,

And fodainely contrive the meanes of meeting

Betweene him, and my daughter.

My honorable Lord, I will moſt humbly

Take my leave of you.

qq

Ham

The Tragedie of Hamlet.

Hans. You cannot Sir take from me any thing, that I will more willingly part withall, except my life, my life.

Polon. Fare you well my Lord.

Ham. Thee tedious old fooles.

Polon. You goe to feeke my Lord Hamlet; there he is.

Enter Rofincros and Guildenstair.

Rofin. God fave you Sir.

Guild. Mine honour'd Lord ?

Rofin. My moft deare Lord ?

Ham. My excellent good friends ? How do'st thou Guildenstair ? Oh, Rofincros, good Lads: How doe you both?

Rofin. As the indifferent Children of the earth.

Guild. Happy, in that we are not over-happy: on Fortunes Cap, we are not the very Button.

Ham. Nor the Soales of her Shooe ?

Rofin. Neither my Lord.

Ham. Then you live about her walfe, or in the middle of her favour ?

Guild. Faith, her privates, we.

Ham. In the secret parts of Fortune ? Oh, moft true: She is a Strumpet. What's the newes.

Rofin. None my Lord; but that the Worlds growne honest.

Ham. Then is Doomefday neere: But your newes is not true. Let me question more in particular: what have you my good friends, deferved at the hands, of fortune, that he fends you to Prifon hither ?

Guild. Prifon, my Lord ?

Ham. Denmark's a Prifon.

Rofin. Then is the World one.

Ham. A goodly one, in which there are many Confines, Wards, and Dungeons; Denmark being one, o' th' worth.

Rofin. We thinke not so my Lord.

Ham. Why then tis noneto you; for there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it fo: to me it is a prifon.

Rofin. Why then your Ambition makes it one: tis too narrow for your minde.

Ham. O God, I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count my felfe a King of infinite Ipace; were it not that I have bad dreames.

Guild. Which dreames indeed are Ambition: for the very fabſtance of the Ambitious, is meerely the ſhadow of a Dreame.

Ham. A dreame it ſelfe is but a ſhadow,

Rofin. Truely, and I hold Ambition of ſo ayry and light a quality, that it is but a ſhadowes ſhadow.

Ham. Then are our Beggers bodies ; and our Monarches and out-fretcht Heroes the Beggers Shadowes: ſhall we to th'Court: for, by my fey I cannot reaſon?

Botb. We'll wait upon you.

Ham. No fuch matter. I will not for you with the reſt of my ſervants: for to ſpeake to you like an honest man: I am moſt dreadfully attended; but in the beaten way of friendſhip. What make you at Eſſinoer ?

Rofin. To viſit you my Lord, no other occasion.

Ham. Begger that I am, I am even poore in thanks; but I thanke you: and ſure deare friends my thanks are too deare a halfepeny; were you not ſent for? Is it your owne inclining ? Is it a free viſitation? Come,

deale juſtly with me: come, come; nay ſpeake.

Guild. What ſhould we ſay my Lord?

Ham. Why any thing. Butto the purpofe; you were ſent for; and there is a kind conſection in your lookes; which your modelſties have not craft enough to co-lour, I know the good King and Queene have ſent for you.

Rofin. To what end my Lord ?

Ham. That you muſt teach me: but let me conjure you by the rights of our ſellowſhip, by the conſonancy of our youth, by the Obligation of our ever-preſerved love, and by what more deare, a better propoſer could charge you withall; be even and direct with me, whether you were ſent for or no.

Rofin. What ſay you ?

Ham. Nay then I have an eye of you; if you love me hold not off.

Guild. My Lord, we were ſent for.

Ham. I will tell you why: to ſhall my anticipation prevent your diſcovery of your fecrecy to the King and Queene: mouſt no feather, I have of late, but wherefore I know not, loft all my mirth, forgone all cuſtome of exerſiſe; and indeed, it goes ſo neavely with my diſpoſiſion, that this goodly frame the earth, ſeemes to me a ferril Promontory; this moſt excellent Canopy the Ayre looke you, this brave ore-hanging, this Majettical Roof, fretted with golden fire: why, it appeared no other thing to me, then a foule and pétient congregaſion of vaurs. What a piece of worke is a man! How Noble in Reaſon? how infinite in faculty? in forme and moving how expreſſe and admirablen in Action, how like an Angell? in apprehenſion, how like a god ? the beauty of the world, the Parragon of Animals; and yet to me, what is this Quinteſcence of Duſt? Man delights not me; no, nor Woman neither; though by your smiling you ſee me to ſay ſo.

Rofin. My Lord, there was no ſuch fluffe in my thoughts.

Ham. Why did you laugh, when I faid, Man delights not me ?

Rofin. To thinke, my Lord, if you delight not in Man, what Lenton entertainment the Players ſhall receive from you: we coated them on the way, and hither are they comming to offer you Service.

Ham. He that playes the King ſhall be welcome; his Majety ſhall have Tribute of me: the adventurous Knight ſhall uſe his Foyle and Target: The Lover ſhall not fight graces, the humorous man ſhall end his part in peace: the Clowne ſhall make thofe laugh whoſe lungs are tickled ath' ſere: and the Lady ſhall ſay her mind freely; or the blanke Verſe ſhall halt for't: what Players are they ?

Rofin. Even thofe you were want to take delight in the Tragedians of the City.

Ham. How chances it they travaile ? their refiſdence both in reputation and profit was better both wayes.

Rofin. I thinke their Inhibition comes by the means of the late innovation ?

Ham. Doe they hold the fame eſtimation they did when I was in the City ? Are they to follow'd ?

Rofin. No indeed, they are not.

Ham. How comes it ? doe they grow rufy ?

Rofin. Nay, their indeavour keeps in the wonted pace; But there is Sir an ayry of Children, little Yafes, that cry out on the top of queſtion; and are moſt tyrannically elapt for't: these are now the fathion, and

The Tragedy of Hamlet.

fashion, and to be ratiel the common Stages (to they
call them) that many wearing Rapiers, are afraid of
Gooſe-quiſ, and dare ſcarle come thither.

Ham. What are they Children? Who maintaines em?
How are they eſcoted? Will they purſue the Quality no
longer then they can ſing? Will they not ſay afterwards
if they ſhould grow themſelves to common Players (as
it is like moſt if their meaneſ are not better) their Wri-
ters doeth their wrong, to make them exclaim againſt their
owne Suſeſſion.

Rofu. Faith there has been much to doe on both ſides:
and the Nation holds it no finne, to tarre them to Con-
troverſie. There was for a while, no money bid for argu-
ment, unlessle the Poet and the Player went to Cuffes in
the Queſtion.

Ham. Ist poſſible?

Gulſ. Oh there has been much throwing about of
brains.

Ham. Doe the Boyes carry it away?

Rofu. I, that they do my Lord, Hercules & his load too
Ham. It is not ſtrange for mine Vnckle is King of
Denmarkes, and thofe that would make mowes at him
while my father lived; give twenty, forty, an hundred
Ducates a peecce, for his picture in Little. There is ſome-
thing in this more then Naturall, if Philosophy could
find it out.

Flotiloſo for the Players.

Gulſ. There are the Players.

Ham. Gentlemen, you are welcome to Eſtinooner: your
bands, come: The appurtenance of Welcome, is Fafhion
and Ceremony. Let me comply with you in the Garbe,
left my extent to the Players (which I tell you I muſt ſhow
fairely outward) ſhould more appeare like entertainment
then yours. You are welcome : but my Vnckle Father,
and Aunt Mother are deceiv'd.

Gulſ. In what my deere Lord ?

Ham. I am but mad North, North-Weſt: when the
Winde is Southerly, I know a Hawke from a Handſaw.
Enter Polonius.

Pol. Well be with you Gentlemen.

Ham. Hearke you Gasldenſtar, and you too: at each
era a hearer : that great Baby you ſee there, is not yet
out of his ſwathing clonts.

Rofu. Happily he the ſecond time come to them: for
they ſay, an old man is twice a child.

Ham. I will Propheſe, He comes to tell me of the
Players. Marke it, you ſay right Sir; for a Monday mor-
ning twas ſo indeed.

Pol. My Lord, I have Newes to tell you.

Ham. My Lord, I have Newes to tell you,
When Rofius an Aſtor in Rome—

Pol. The Aſtors are come hither my Lord.

Ham. Buzze, buzze.

Pol. Upon mine honor.

Ham. Then can each Aſtor on his Aſſe—

Pol. The beſt Aſtors in the world, either for Trage-
dy, Comedy, hiftory, Paſtorall: Paſtoricall-Comicall-
Hiftoricall-Paſtorall: Tragicall-Hiftoricall; Tragicall-
Comicall-Hiftoricall-Paſtorall: ſcæne indivisible, or Po-
em unlimited. Seneca cannot be too heavy, nor Plautus
too light, for the law of Writ, and the Liberty. Theſe
are the only men.

Ham. O Iephta Iudge of Israel, what a Treasure hadt
thou?

Pol. What a Treasure had he, my Lord?

Ham. Why one faire Daughter, and no more.

The which he loved paſſing well.

Pol. Still on my daughter.

Ham. Am I not iſt right old Iephta ?

Pol. If you call me Iephta my Lord, I have a daugh-
ter that I love paſſing well.

Ham. Nay that followes not.

Pol. What followes then, my Lord?

Ham. Why, as by lot, God wot? and then you know,
It came to paſſe, as moſt like it was: the firſt rowe of
the Pans Chawon will they you more. For Iooke where
my ABRidgements come.

Enter ſoure or ſive Players.

Y'are welcome Matters, welcome all. I am glad to ſee
thee well; Welcome good friends. O my old friend? Thy
face is valiant ſince I ſaw thee laſt: Comit thou to
beard me in Denmarke? What, my young Lady and Mi-
ſtiris? Berlady your Ladilip is neerer heaven then when
I ſaw you laſt, by the altitude of a Chopine. Pray God
your voyce like a peecce of uncurrant gold be not crak'd
within the ring. Maſters, you are all welcome: we'll e're
to't like French Fauſconers, flye at any thing we ſee; we'll
have a ſpeech ſtraight. Come give us a taſt of your qua-
lity: come, a paſſionate ſpeech.

I Play. What ſpeech, my Lord?

Ham. I heard thee ſpeak me a ſpeech once, but it was never Acted: or if it was, not above once, for the Play I remember pleas'd not the Million, twas Caſtary to the Generall: but it was (as I received it, and others, whoſe judgement in ſuch matters, cryed in the top of mine) an excellent Play; well digeſted in the Scarnes, ſet downe with as much modſely, as cunning. I remember one ſaid, there was no Sallets in the lines, to make the matter ſavoury; nor no matter in the phraſe, that might indite the Author of aſſation, but caſd it an homeſt method. One chieſe ſpeech in it, I chieſely lov'd, twas Æneas Tale to Dido, and there about of it ſepecially, where he ſpeakes of Priams ſlaughter. If it live in your memory, begin at this Line, let me fee, let me ſee: The rugged Pyrrhus like th'Hyreanſian Beaſt. It is not so: it begins with Pyrrhus.

The rugged Pyrrhus, the whoſe Sable Armes

Backe as he purpofe, did the night ſeſembles
When his lay couched in the Ominous Horſe,

Hath now this dread and blacke Complexion ſmeard

With Heraldry more diſmall: he'd to ſtoke

Now is he to take Geuilles, horribly Trick'd

With blood of Fathers, Mothers, Daughters, Sonnes,

Bak'd and impaſſed with the paching streets,

That blend a tyrannous, and damned light

To their vilde Murthers, roſtied in wrath and ſire,

And thus o're-ciſed with coagulate gore,

With eyes like Ca-buncles, the helliſh Pyrrhus

Old Grandſare Priam ſeekeſ.

Pol. Fore Goſ, my Lord, well ſpoken, with good ac-
cent, and good diſcretion.

I Play. Anon he findes him,

Striking too ſhort at Greekes. His anticiek Sword,

Rebellious to his Arme, lyes where it falles

Repugnant to command: unequall match,

Pyrrhus at Priam drives, in Rage ſtrikes wide:

But with the whiffe and wind of his ſell Sword,

Th'unnerved father fals. Then ſenſeleſſe Ilium,

Seeming to ſeele his blow. with ſlaming ſop

Stoopes to his Bace, and with a hideous crafti

Takes Prifoner Pyrrhus care. For loe, his Sword

Which was declining on the Milky head

Of Reverend Priam, ſeem'd ith'Ayre to ſlicke:

qq 2

So

The Tragedie of Hamlet.

So as a painted Tirant Pyrrhus flood,
And lik'd a Newtrall to his will and matter, did nothing.
But as we often fee againft some forme,
A filence in the heavens, the Racke fland fill,
The bold windes speechleffe, and the Orbe below
As huff as death: Anon the dreadfull Thunder
Dothrend the Region. So after Pyrrhus paufe,
A rowſed Vengeance fets him new a worke,
And never did the Cyclops hammers fall
On Mars his Armours, forg'd for proofe Eterne,
With leſſe remorſe then Pyrrhus bleeding ſword
Now falles on Priam,
Out, out, thou Strumpet-Fortune, all you gods,
In general Synod take away her power:
Breake all the Spokes and Fallies from her wheelc,
And boule the round Nave downe the hill of heaven,
As low as to the fiends.

Pol. This is too long:

Ham. It ſhall to th' Barbars, with your beard. Pre-
thee ſay on: Hes for a ligge, or a tale of Baudry, or he
fleepes. Say on; come to Hecuba.

1 Play. But who, O who, had feen the Mobled Queene.

Ham. The Mobled Queene ?

Pol. Thats good : Mobled Queene is good.

I Play. Run bare-foot up and downe,

Threatning the flame

With Biffon Rheume : A clout about that head,
Where late the Diadem ſtood, and for a Robe
About her lanke and all ore-teamed Loynes,
A blanket in th' Alarum of feare caught up.
Who this had ſeene, with tongue in Venome ſleep'd,
Gainſt fortunes State, would Treafon have pronounc'd?
But if the godsthemſelves did ſee her then,
When the ſaw Pyrrhus make malicious ſport
In mincing with his Sword her husbands limbes,
The inſtant Burſt of Clamour that the made
(Vnleſſe things mortall move them not at all)
Would have made milche the Burning eyes of heaven,
And paffion in the Gods.

Pol. Looke where he has not tarn'd his colour, and
has teares ins eyes. Pray you no more.

Ham. Tis well, Ile have the ſpeake out the reſt, ſoone.
Good my Lord, will you fee the Players well beſtow'd.
Doe ye heare, let them be well us'd: for they are the Ab-
ſtracts and briefe Chronicles of the time. After your
death, you were better have a bad Epitaph, then their
ill report while you lived.

Pol. My Lord, I will uſe them according to their de-
fart.

Ham. Godsbodykins man, better. Vſe every man
after his deſart, and who ſhould ſcape whipping : uſe
them after your owne Honor and dignity. The leſſe they
deferve, the more merit is in your bounty. Take them
in.

Pol. Come first.

Exit Polonius.

Ham. Follow him friends : we'll heare a play to mor-
row. Doſt thou heare me old friend, can you play the
murther of Gonzago ?

Play. I my Lord.

Ham. We'll ha't to morrow night. You could for a
need ſiudy a ſpeech of ſome doſen or ſixteen lines, which
I would ſet downe, and infert int? Could ye not ?

Play. I my Lord.

Ham. Very well. Follow that Lord, and looke you
mocke him not. My good friends, Ile leave you till night
you are welcome to Eſfanower ?

Rofin. Good my Lord,

Manet Hamlet.

Exemm.

Ham. I ſo, god buy'ye: Now I am alone.
Oh what a Rogue and Pefant ſlave am I ?
Is it not monſtrous that this Player heere,
But in a Ficction, in a dreaume of Paffion,
Could force his ſoule to his whole conceit,
That from her working, all his uſiſage warm'd;
Teares in his eyes, diſtraCTION inſpect,
A broken voyce, and his whole function ſuiting
With ſormes, to his conceit ? And all for nothing ?
For Hecuba ?

Whats Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,
That he ſhould weepe for her ? What would he doe,
Had he the Motive and the Cue for paffion
That I have ? He would droune the Stage with teares,
And cleave the generall eare with horrid ſpeech :
Make mad the guilty, and apale the free.
Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed,
The very faculty of eyes and Eares. Yet I,
A dull and muddy-metled Ratcall, peake
Like Iohn a-deames, unpregnant of my caufe,
And can ſay nothing: No, not for a King,
Vpon whoſe property, and moſt deere life,
A damn'd defeate was made. Am I a Coward ?
Who calles me Villaine ? breakes my pate a-croſſe?
Pluckes off my Beard, and blowes it in my face ?
Tweakes me byth' Nofe ? gives me the Lye th' Throat,
As deepe as to the Lungs ? Who does me this ?
Ha ? Why I should take it : for it cannot be,
But I am Pigeon-Liver'd, and lacke Gall
To make Oppreſſion bitter, or ere this,
I ſhould have fatted all the Region Kites
With this Slaves Offal, bloudy a Bawdy villaine,
Remorſſeſſe, Treacherous, Letcherous, kindleſſe villaine!
Oh Vengeance !

Who ? What an Aſſe am I ? I ſure, this is moſt brave,
That I, the Sonne of the Deere murthered,
Prompted to my Revenge by heaven, and hell,
Muff (like a Whore) unpacke my heart with words,
And fall a Curling like a very Drab,
A Scullion ? Fye upon't. Fch. About my Braine.
I have heard, that guilty Creatures fitting at a Play,
Have by the very cunning of the Scene,
Beene ſtrooke to the ſoule, that prefently
They have proclaim'd their Maleſactions.
For Murther, though it have no tongue, will ſpeake
With moſt my miraculous Organ. He have theſe Players,
Play ſomething like the murder of my father,
Before mine Vnkle. He obſerve his lookes
Ile rent him to the quicke : if he but blench
I know my tourſe. The Spirit that I have ſeene
May be the divell, and the divell hath power
T'affume a pleasing ſhape, yea and perhaps
Out of my Weakneſſe, and my Melancholly,
As he is very potent with ſuch Spirits,
A bufes me to damne me. He have grounds
More Relative then this: The Plays the thing,
Wherein Ile catch the Conſtance of the King.

Exit.

Enter King, Queene, Polonius, Ophelia, Ro-
fincros, Guildenstard, and Lords.

King. And can you by no drift of circumſtance
Get from him why he puts on this Conſuſion
Grating ſo harſely all his dayes of quiet

With

The Tragedy of Hamlet.

With turbulent and dangerous Lunacy.

Rofu. He does confesse he feecles himselfe diftracted,
But from what caufe he will by no meanses speake.

Gul. Nor doe we find him forward to be founded,
But with a crafty Madneſſe keepeſ aloofe:
When we would bring him on to ſome Conſeſſion
Of his true ſtate,

Luee. Did he receive you well?

Rofu. Moſt like a Gentleman.

Gul. But with much forcing of his diſpoſition.
Rofu. Niggard of queſtion, but of our demands
Moſt free in his reply.

Luee. Did you affay him to any paſtime?

Rofu. Madam, it ſo fell out, that certaine Players,
We ore-wrought on the way : of theſe we told him,
And there did ſee me in him a kind of joy
To heare of it : They are about the Court,
And (as I thinke) they have already order
This night to play before him.

Pol. Tis moſt true:
And he beſech'd me to inſtare your Maſeſties
To heare, and fee the matter.

King. With all my heart, and it doth much content me
To heare him ſo inclin'd. Good Gentlemen,
Give him a further edge, and drive his purpofe on
To theſe delights.

Rofu. We ſhall my Lord.

Exeunt.

King. Sweet Gartrude leave us too,

For we have cloſely ſent for Hamlet hither,

That he, as twere by accident, may there

Aſſront Ophelia. Her father, and my ſelfe (lawful ſpiels)

Will ſo bellow our ſelves, that feeing uneſſene

We may of their encounter tranſely judge,

And gather by him, as he is behaved,

Iſt be the afflaction of his love, or no.

That thus he ſuffers for.

Luee. I ſhall obey you,

And for your part Ophelia. I doe wifh

That your good beauties be the happy caufe

Of Hamlets wildneſſe : ſo ſhall I hope your Vertues

Will bring him to his wonted way againe,

To both your honours.

Ophel. Madam, I wifh it may.

Pol. Ophelia, wake you heere. Gracious ſo pleafe ye

We will beſtow our ſelves : Reade on this booke,

That ſhew of ſuch an exerciſe may colour

Your onelindelſe. We are oſt too blame in this

Tis too much prov'd, that with Devotions viſage,

And pious Action, we do ſurge ore

The divell himselfe.

King. Oh this true :

How imart a laſh that ſpeech doth give my Conſcience ?

The Harlets Cheeke beautified with plaſtring Art

Is not more ugly to the thing that helps it,

Then is my deede, to my moſt painted word,

Oh heavy burthen !

Pol. I heare him comming, lets withdraw my Lord.

Exeunt.

Enter Hamlet.

Ham. To be, or not to be, that is the Queſtion :
Whether tis Nobler in the mind to ſuffer
The Slings and Arrows of outragious Fortune,
Or to take Armes againſt a Sea of troubles,
And by oppoſing end them: to dye, to ſleepe
No more : and by a ſleepe, to ſay we end
The heart-ake, and the thouſand natural ſhockes

That ſleſh is heire to ? Tis a consummation

Devoutly to be wifh'd. To dye to ſleepe,

To ſleepe, perchance to Dremee; I there's the rub,

For in that ſleepe of death, what dreaemes may come,

When he have ſhuffleſ'd oſ this mortall coile,

Mauſt give us pawſe. Theres the reſpect

That makes Calamity of ſo long life:

For who would beare the Whips and Scornes of time,

The Oppreſſors wrong, the poore mans Contumely,

The pangs of diſpriz'd Love, the Lawes delay,

The inſolence of Office, and the Spurnes

That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himselfe might his Quieſtions make

With a bare Bodkin ? Who would theſe Fardles beare

To grunt and wreat under a weary life,

But that the dread of ſomething after death,

The undifcovered Country, from whose Borne

No Traveller returns, Puzels the will,

And makes us rather beare theſe illes we have,

Then flye to others that we know not of.

Thus Conſcience does make Cowards of us all,

And thus the Native hew of Reſolution

Is ſicklied ore, with the pale caſt of thought,

And enterprizes of great pith and moment,

With this regard their Currants turne away,

And looke the name of Action. Soft you now,

The faire Ophelia? Nimph, in thy Horizons

Be all my finnes remembred.

Ope. Good my Lord,

How does your honor for this many a day?

Ham. I humbly thanke you : well, well, well.

Ope. My Lord, I have Remembrances of yours,

That I have longed long to redeliver.

I pray you now, receive them.

Ham. No, no, I never gave you ought.

Ope. My honor'd Lord, I know right well you did,
And with them words of ſo wweet breath compos'd,

As made the things more rich, then perfume left :

Take theſe againe, for to the Noble mind

Rich gifts wax poore, when givers prove unkind.

There my Lord.

Ham. Ha, ha: Are you honeſt?

Ope. My Lord.

Ham. Are you faire?

Ope. What meanes you Lordship?

Ham. That if you be honeſt and faire, your Honeſt
should admit no diſcourſe to your Beauty.

Ope. Could beauty my Lord, have better Commerce
then your honeſtly?

Ham. Itruly: for the power of beauty, will ſooner
transforme honeſt from what it is, to a Bawd, then the
force of honeſt can tranſlate Beauty into his likeneſſe,
This was ſometime a Paradox, but now the time gives it
proofe. I did love you once.

Ope. Indeed my Loid, you made me beleeve ſo.

Ham. You should not have beleeved me. For vertue
cannot be inoculate our old ſtockes, but we ſhall rellifh
of it. I loved you not.

Ope. I was the more deceived.

Ham. Get thee to a Nunnery. Why wouldſt thou
be a breeder of Sinneſs? I am my ſelfe indifferent honeſt,
but yet I could accuſe me of ſuch things, that it were bet-
ter my Mother had not borne me. I am very prowd; re-
vengeſoll. Ambitious, with more offences at my becke,
then I have thoughts to put them in imagination, to give
them shape, or time to acte them in. What ſhould ſuch

Fellowes

The Tragedie of Hamlet.

288

In neither ought, or in extremiy:
Now what my love is, proofe hath made you know,
And as my Love is fiz, my feare is so.
King. Faith I muft leave thee Love, and shortly too:
My operant Powers my functions leave to doe
And thou fhat live in this faire world behind,
Honor'd, belov'd, and haply, one as kind.
For husband halt thou—
Quee. Oh confound the reft :
Such Love, muft needs be Treafon in my breft :
In fecond husband, let me be accuflt,
None wed the fecond, but who killd the firft.
Ham. Wormewood, Wormewood.
Quee. The infances that fecond Marrage move,
Are bafe respects of Trift, but none of Love.
A fecond time, I kill my husband dead,
When fecond husband kiffes me in Bed.
King. I doe believe you. Thinke what now you ſpeake:
But what we doe determine, oft we breake;
Purpofe is but the flave to Memory.
Of violent Birth, but poore validity :
Which now like fruite unripe flickes on the Tree,
But fall unflaken, when they mellow be.
Moſt neceffary tis, that we forget
To pay our ſelves, what to our ſelves is debt :
What to our ſelves in paffion we propofe,
The paffion ending, doth the purpofe loſe.
The violence of other Griefe or joy,
Their owne enaſtors with themſelves deſtroy :
Where Ioy moſt Revels, Griefe doth moſt lament;
Griefe joyes, Ioy greeves on flender accident.
This world is not for aye, nor tis not ſtrange
That even our Loves ſhould with our Fortunes change.
For tis a question left us yet to prove,
Whether Love lead fortune, or elſe fortune Love.
The great man downe, you marke his favourite flyes,
The poore aduanc'd makes friends of Enemies :
And hither to doth Love on fortune tend,
For who not needs, ſhall never lacke a friend ?
And who in want a hollow friend doth try,
Directly feaſons him his Enemy.
But orderly to end, where I begun,
Our Wides and Fates doe ſo contrary run,
That our Devices ſtill are overthrowne,
Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our owne,
So thinke thou wilt no ſecond husband wed.
But dye thy thoughts, when thy firſt Lord is dead.
Quee. Nor Earth to give me food, nor heaven light,
Sport and repofe locke from me day and night:
Each oppofite that blankes the face of joy,
Meet what I would have well, and it deſtroy :
Both heere, and hence, purſue me laſting ſtrife,
If once a Widdow, ever I be Wife.
Ham. If ſhe should breake it now.
King. Tis deeply ſworne;
Sweet, leave me heare a while,
My ſpirits grow dull, and faine I would beguile
The tedious day with ſleepe.
Quee. Sleepe rocke thy braine,
And never come miſchance betweene us twaine.
Ham. Madam, how like you the Play ?
Quee. The Lady proteſts too much me thinkes.
Ham. Oh but ſhe'll keepe her word,
King. Have you heard the Argument, is there no Of-
fence in't?
Ham. No, no, they doe but jeſt, poyſon in jeſt, no Of-

fence i'th world.
King. What doe you call the Play ?
Ham. The Mouſe-trap: Marry how ? Tropically:
This Play is the image of a murder done in Vienna: Gon-
zago is the Dukes name, his wife Bapſita: you ſhall fee
anon: tis a knavifh peec of worke: But what o' that ?
Your Majefty, and we that have free ſoules, it touches
us not: let the gall'd jade winch: our withers are unrlng,
Enter Lucianus.

This is one Lucianus nephew to the King.
Ophe. You are a good Chorus. my Lord.
Ham. I could interpret betweene you and your love :
if I could fee the Puppets dallying.
Ophe. You are keene my Lord, you are keene.
Ham. It would coſt you a groaning, to take off my
edge.
Ophe. Still better and worſe.
Ham. So you miſtake husbands.
Begin Murderer. Pox, leave thy damnable Faces, and
begin. Come, the croaking Raven doth bellow for Re-
venge.
Lucian. Thoſchts blacke, hands apt,
Drugges fit, and Time agreeing:
Confederate ſaſon, elſe no Creaſure feeing:
Thou mixture ranke, of Midnight-Weeds collected,
With Hecas Ba n, thrice blaſted, thrice infected,
Thy naturall Magicke, and dire property,
On wholſome life, unſurp e immediately.

Powers the poyſon in his eare.

Ham. He poyſons him i'th' Garden fors eſtate : His
names Gonzago: the Story is extant, and writ in choyce
Italian. You ſhall fee anon how the Murtherer gets the
love of Gonzagoſs wife.

Ophe. The King rifes.
Hams. What, frighted with falſe fire.
Quee. How faſes my Lord ?
Pol. Give o're the Play.
King. Giue me ſome Light. Away,
All. Lights, Lights, Lights.
Manet Hamlet and Horatio.
Exemt.

Ham. Why let the ſtrucken Deere goe weepe,
The Heart ungalled play :
For ſome muſt watch, while ſome muſt ſleepe ?
So runneth the world away.
Would not this ſir, and a Forreſt of Feathers, if the reſt
of my fortunes turne Turke with me ; with two Provin-
ciall Rofes on my rac'd Shoes, get me a Fellowship in
a cry of Players fir.

Hor. Halfe a share.
Ham. A whole one I,
For thou doſt know: Oh Damon deere,
This Realme diſmantled was of love himſelfe,
And now reignes heere,
A very very Pajocke.

Hora. You might have Rim'd.
Ham. Oh good Horatio, Ile take the Ghoſts word for
a thouſand pound. Didſt perceive ?

Hora. Very well my Lord.
Ham. Upon the talke of the poyſoning ?
Hora. I did very well note him.

Enter Rofincras, and Guildenſtar.
Ham. Oh, ha'come ſome Mufick. Come the Recorders
For if the King like not the Comedy.
Why then belike he likes it not perdy.
Come ſome Mufick.

Guild, Good my Lord, vouchſaſe me a word with you.
Ham.

The Tragedy of Hamlet.

289

Ham. Sir, a whole Hiftory...
Guild. The King, fir.
Ham. I fir, what of him.
Guild. Is in his retyrement, marvellous diftemper'd.
Ham. With drinke Sir?
Guild. No my Lord, rather with choller.
Ham. Your wifedome should fiew it felfe more rich to signifieth this to his Doctor; for me to put him to his Purgation, would perhaps purge him into farre more Choller.
Guild. Good my Lord put your difcourfe into fome frame, and flart not so wildly from my affaire.
Ham. I am tame Sir, pronounce.
Guild. The Queene your Mother, in moft great affilia tion of spirit, hath lent me to you.
Ham. You are welcome.
Guild. Nay, good my Lord, this courtesie is not of the right breed. If it ſhall please you to make me a wholefome anſwer, I will doe your Mothers commandment: if not, your pardon, and my returne ſhall be the end of my buſineſſe.
Ham. Sir, I cannot.
Guild. What my Lord?
Ham. Make you a wholesome anſwer: my wits diſeaſd. But fir, ſuch anſwers as I can make, you ſhall command: or rather you ſay, my mother: therefore no more but to the matter. My mother you ſay.
Rofin. Then thus ſhe fayes: your behaviour haſt stroke her into amazement, and admiration.
Ham. Oh wonderfull Sonne, that can ſo aftonifh a Mother. But is there no ſequell at the heeles of this Mothers admiration?
Rofin. She defires to ſpeak with you in her Cloſſe, ere you goe to bed.
Ham. We ſhall obey, were ſhe ten times our Mother. Have you any further Trade with us?
Rofin. My Lord, you once did love me.
Ham. So I doe ſtill, by theſe pickers and ſtealers.
Rofin. Good my Lord, what is your cauſe of deftemper? You doe freely barre the doore of your owne Liberty, if you deny your griefes to your friend.
Ham. Sir I lacke Advancement.
Rofin. How can that be, when you have the voyce of the King himſelfe, for your Suecration in Denmark?
Ham. I, but while the graſſe growes, the Proverbe is ſomething muſt.
*Enter one with a Recordr.*
O the Recorder. Let me fee, to withdraw with you, why you goe about to recover the wind of me, as if you would drive me into a toile ?
Guild. O my Lord, if my Duty be too bold, my love is too unmannerly.
Ham. I do not well underſand that. Will you play upon this Pipe?
Guild. My Lord, I cannot.
Ham. I pray you.
Guild. Believe me, I cannot.
Ham. I doe beſeech you.
Guild. I know no touch of it, my Lord.
Ham. Tis as caſe as lying: governe theſe Ventges with your finger and thumbe, give it breath with your mouth, and it will diſcourſe moſt excellent Muſiſke.
Looke you, theſe are the ſtopps.
Guild. But this cannot I command to any utterance ofharmony, I have not the skill.
Ham. Why looke you now, how unworthy a thing

you make of me: you would play upon me: you would feeme to know my ſtops: you would pucke out the heart of my Myſtery; you would found me from my lowelt Note, to the top of my compaſſe: and there is much Muſiſke, excellent Voyce, in this little Organe, yet cannot you make it. Why doe you thinke, that I am eafier to be plaid on, then a Pipe? Call me what inſtrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me. God bleſſe your Sir.

*Enter Polonius.*

Polon. My Lord; the Queene would ſppeak with you and prefently.

Ham. Doe you fee that Clowd? that's almoſt in ſhape like a Camell.

Polon. By'th'Miſſe, and it's like a Camell indeed.

Ham. Me thinkes it is like a Weazeli.

Polon. It is back'd like a Weazeli.

Ham. Or like a Whale?

Polon. Very like a Whale.

Ham. Then will I come to my mother, by and by: They ſoole me to the top of my bent. I will come by and by.

Polon. I will ſay to.

Exit.

Ham. By and by, is eafily ſaid. Leave me friends: Tis now the very witching time of night,

When Churchyards yawne, and hell it ſelfe breaths out Contagion to this world. Now could I drinke hot blood, And doe ſuch bitter buſineſſe as the day

Would quaketo looke on. Soft now, to my mother: Oh heart, loofe not thy Nature; let not ever The Soule of Nero, enter this firme boſome:

Let me be cruell, not unnaturall,
I will ſppeak Daggers to her, but uſe none:
My tongue and foule in this be Hypocrites.
How in my words ſomever ſhe be ſhent,
To give them ſeales, never my foule content.

*Enter King, Rofincros, and Guildenſtar.*

King. I like him not, nor Itlands it ſafe with us, To let his madneſſe range. Therefore prepare you, I your Commiſſion will forthwith diſpatch, And he to England ſhall along with you, The termes of our eſtate, may not endare Hazard ſo dangerous as doth hourly grow Out of his Lunacies.

Guild. We will our ſelves provide: Moſt holy and Religious ſeare it is To keepe that ſoſe many bodies ſafe That live and ſeede upon your Maſjety.

Rofin. The ſingle And peculiar life is bound With all the ſtrength and Armour of the minde, To keepe it ſelfe from noyance: but much more, That Spirit, upon whose ſpirit depends and reſts The lives of many, the caeate of Maſjety Dies not alone: but like a Gulſe doth draw Whatneere it, with it, It is a maffie wheele Fixt on the Sommet of the highelt Mount, To whose huge Spoakes, ten thouſand leſſer things Are mortiz'd and adjon'd: which when it falles, Each small annexment, petty conſequence Attends the boyſtrous Ruine. Never alone Did the King ſfighe, but with a generall groſe

King. Arme you, I pray you to this ſpeedy Voyage; For we will Fetters put upon this ſeare,

Which

The Tragedie of Hamlet.

Which now goes too free-footed.

Both. We will haſt us.

Exenut Gent.

Enter Polonius.

Pol. My Lord, he's going to his Mothers Cloſet: Behinde the Arras Ile convey my ſelfe To heare the Proceſſe. Ile warrant ſhe'll tax him home. And as you faid, and wifely was it faid, Tis meete that ſome more audience then a Mother, Since Nature makes them partiall, ſhould o're-heare The ſpeech of vantage, Fare you well my Liege, Ile call upon you ere you goe to bed, And tell you what I know.

Exit.

King. Thankes deere my Lord, Oh my offence is ranke, it ſmels to heaven, It hath the primall eldelt curſe upon't, A brothers murther. Pray can I not, Though inclination be as ſharpe as will: My ſtronger guilt, deſcats my ſtrong intent, And like a man to double buſinesſe bound, I ſtand in paſſe where I ſhall firſt begin, And both neglect; what if this curſed hand Were thicker then it ſelſe with brothers blood, Is there not Raine enough in the tweet heavens To waſh it white as Snow ? Where to ſerves mercy, But to confront the viſage of Offence ? And what's in Prayer, but this two-fold force, To be ſore-flalled ere we come to fall, Or pardon'd being downe ? Then Ile looke up, My fault is paſt. But oh, what forme of Prayer Can ſterue my turne ? Forgive me my ſoule Murther: That cannot be, ſince I am ſtill poſſed Of thofe effects for which I did the Murther My Crowne, mine owne Ambition, and my Queene : May one be pardon'd, and retaine th'offence ? In the corrupted currants of this world, Offences gilded hand may ſhove by Inſtice, And oft tis ſeene, the wicked prize it ſelſe Buys out the Law; but tis not ſo above, There is no ſhuffling, there the Action lyes In his true Nature, and we our ſelves compell'd Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults, To give in evidence. What then ? What reſts ? Try what Repentance can. What can it not ? Yet what can it, when one cannot repent ? Oh wretched ſtate ? Oh boſome, blacke as death ! Oh limed ſoule, that ſtrugling to be free, Art more ingag'd: Helpe Angels, make aſſay: Bow ſtubborne knees, and heart with ſtrings of Steele, Be ſoft as finewes of the new-borne Babe, All may be well.

Enter Hamlet.

Ham. Now might I doe it pat, now he is praying, And now Ile doo't, and ſo he goes to heaven, And ſo am I reveng'd: that would be ſcann'd, A Villaine killes my Father, and for that I his ſoule Sonne, doe this fame Villaine ſend To heaven. Oh this is hyre and Sallery, not Revenge. He took e my Father groſſely, full of bread, With all his Crimes broad blowne, as fresh as May, And how his Audit ſands, who knowes, ſave heaven: But in our circumſtance and courſe of thought Tis heavy with him: and am I then reveng'd, To take him in the purging of his Soule, When he is fit and ſeafon'd for his paſſage ? No. Vp Sword, and know thou a more horrid hent

When he is drunkne aſſleepe: or in his Rage,
Or in th'ineſtuous pleasure of his bed,
At gaming, ſwearing, or about ſome acte
That has no reſliſh of Saluation in't,
Then trip him, that his heeles may kiſke at heaven,
And that his Soule may be as damn'd and blacke
As hell, whereto it gotes. My Mother ſtayes,
This Phyſicke but prolongs thy ſickly dayes.
Exit.
King. My words flye up, my thoughts remaine below,
Words without thoughts, never to heaven goe.
Exit.

Enter Queene and Polonius.

Polo. He will come straight: Looke you lay home to him, Tell him his prankes have been too broad to berre with, And that your grace hath forſtend, and ſtood betweene Much heat, and him. Ile ſilence me e're heere: Pray you be round with him.
Ham. within. Mother, mother, mother.
Que. Ile warrant you, feare me not.
Withdraw, I heare him comming.
Enter Hamlet.

Ham. Now mother, what's the matter ?

Que. Hamlet, thou haſt thy father much offended.

Ham. Mother, you have my father much offended.

Que. Come, come, you anſwer with an idle tongue.

Ham. Go; goe, you queſtion with an idle tongue.

Que. Why how now Hamlet.

Ham. What's the matter now ?

Que. Have you forgot me ?

Ham. No by the Road, not ſo :

You are the Queene, your husbands brothers wife,
But would you were not ſo. You are my Mother.
Quee. Nay, then Ile ſet thofe to you that can ſpeak.

Ham. Come, come, and ſit you downe, you ſhall not
boudge:

You goe not till I ſet up a glaſſe.

Where you may fee the inmoſt part of you ?

Que. What wift thou doe ? thou w'ilt not murther me?

Helpe. helpe, hoa.

Pol. What hoa, helpe, helpe, helpe.

Ham. How now, a Rat ? dead for a Ducate, dead.

Pol. Oh I am flaine.

Killes Polonius.

Quee. Oh me, what haſt thou done ?

Ham. Nay, I know not, is it the King?

Quee. Oh what a rafh, and bloody deed is this?

Ham. A bloody deed, almoſt as bad good Mother,
As kill a King, and marry with his brother.

Quee. As kill a King?

Ham. I Lady, twas my word.

Thou wretched, rafh, intruding foole farewell,
I tooke thee for thy Betters, take thy fortune,
Thou findt to be too bufſe, is ſome danger.
Leave wringing of your hands, peace fit you downe,
And let me wring your heart, for ſo I ſhall
If it be made of penetrable ſtuffe;
If damned Cuſtome have not braz'd it ſo,
That it is proofe and bulwarke againſt Senſe.

Que. What have I done, that thou darſt wag thy
Innoſte ſo rude againſt me ?
Ham. Such an Aſt

(tongue,

That blurrest the grace and bluſh of Modeſty,
Cals Vertue Hypocrite, takes off the Rofe
From the faire forehead of an innocent love,
And makes a blifter there. Makes marriage vowes
As falſe as Dicers Oathes. Oh ſuch a deed,

As

The Tragedy of Hamlet.

291

Asfrom the body of contraction pluckes
The very foule, and sweet Religion makes
A raphody of words. Heavens face doth glow,
Yea this固licity and compound maffe,
With trifull vifage as againſt the doome,
Iſthought-ficke at the act.

Quee. Aye me, what act, that roares so lowd, and
thunders in the Index.

Ham. Looke heere upon this Picture, and on this,
The counterſet preſentment of two brothers :
See what a grace ſeated on his Brow,
Hypersions curles, the front of love himſelfe,
An eye like Mars, to threaten or command
A Station, like the Herald Mercury
Now ſlighted on a heaven-killing hill :
A Combination, and a ſorme indeed,
Where every god did ſeeme to ſet his Seale,
Togive the world affurranſe of a man.

This was your husband. Looke you now what followes.
Here is your Lusband, like a Mildew'd deare,
Blating his wholtoſome breath. Have you eyes?
Could you on this faire Mountaine leave to ſeed,
And batten on this Moore ? Ha ? have you eyes ?
You cannot call it Love: For at your age,
The hey-day in the blood is tame, its humble,
And waites upon the Judgement : and what judgement
Would hep from this, to this ? What divell was't,
That thus hath confuſed you at hoodman-blind ?
O Shame ! where is thy bluch ? Rebellious Hell,
If thou canſt mutine in a Matrons bones,
To flaming youth, let Vertue be as waxe.
And melt in her owne fire. Proclaime no ſhame,
When the compulſive Ardure gives the charge,
Since Froſt it ſelſe, as actively doth burne,
As Reaſon panders Will.

Quee. O Hamlet, I ſpeake no more.

Thou turnſt mine eyes into my very foule,
And there I fee tuch blacke and grained ſpots.
As will not leave their Tint.

Ham. Nay, but to live

In the rankè tweat of an enfeamed bed,
Stewd in Corruption; honying and making love
Over the naſty Srye.

Quee. Oh I ſpeake to me, no more,

Theſe words like Daggers enter in mine eares.
No more sweet Hamlet.

Ham. A Murderer, and a Villaine :
A Slave, that is not twentieth part the tythe
Of your precedent Lord. A vice of Kings,
A Cutpurſe of the Empire and the Rule.
That from a ſelſe, the precious Diadem ſtole,
And put it in his Pocket.

Que. No more.

Enter Ghost.

Ham. A King of ſhreds and patches.

Save me: and hover o're me with your wings

You heavenly Guards. What would you gracious figure?

Quee. Alas, bes mad.

Ham. Doe you not come your tardy Sonne to chide,
That latches in Time and Paffion, lets goe by
Th'important acting of your dread command ? Oh ſay.

Ghost. Doe not forget: this Vifitation
Is but to whet thy almoſt blunted purpose.
But looke Amazement on thy Mother ſits ;
O ſtep b'tweene her, and her fighting Soule,
Conceit in weakeſt bodies, ſtrongeſt workes.

Speake to her Hamlet.

Ham. How is it with you Lady?

Quee. Alas, how is't with you ?

That thus you bend your eye on vacancy,
And with the corporall ayre doe hold diſcourſe.

Forth at your eyes, your ſpirits widely peepe,
And as the fleeping Souldiours in th'Alarme,

Your bedded haire, like life in excrement,
Start up, and ſtand an end. Oh gentle Sonne,

Vpon the heare and flame of thy diſtemper
Sprinkle coole patience. Whereon doe you looke ?

Ham. On him, on him: looke you how pale he glares,
His ſorme and caufe conjoyn'd, preaching to ſtones,
Would make them capeable. Doe not looke upon me,
Leaſt with this pitteous action you convert

My ſterne effects : then what I have to doe,

Will want true colour; teares perchance for blood.

Quee. To whom doe you ſpeake this?

Ham. Doe you feen nothing there?

Quee. Nothing at all, yet all that is I fee.

Ham. Nor did you nothing heare ?

Quee. No, nothing but our ſelves.

Ham. Why looke you there: looke how it ſteals away;
My father in his habite, as he lived.

Looke where he goes even now out at the Portall. Exit.

Quee. This is the very coynage of your braine,

This bodilieſſe Creation extaſſe is very cunning in.

Ham. Extaſſe ?

My Pulſe as you're doth temperately keepe time,

And makes as healthfull Muſicke. It is not madneſſe

That I have uttered; bring me to the Teſt

And I the matter will re-word: which madneſſe

Would gamboſſe from. Mother, for love of Grace,

Lay not a flattering Vnſction to your ſoule,

That not your tréſpaille, but my madneſſe ſpeakes :

It will but skin and ſilme the Vicerous place,

Whilſt ranke corruption mming all within,

Infects unſene. Conſeuffe your ſelſe to heaven,

Repet what's paſt, avoyd what is to come,

And doe not ſpred the Compoſt or the Weedes,

To make them ranke. Forgive me this my Vertue,

For in the fatſle of theſe purſue times,

Vertue it ſelſe, of Vice mult pardon begge,

Yea courbe, and woee, for leave to doe him good.

Quee. Oh Hamlet,

Thou haſt cleft my heart in twaine.

Ham. O throw away the worſer part of it,

And live the purer with the other halſe.

Good night, but goe not to mine Vnkles bed,

Aſſume a Vertue, if you have it not, refraine to night,

And that shall lend a kind of eſaſneſſe

To the next abſtinance. Once more goodnight.

And when you are defirousto be bleſſ,

Ile bleſſing begge of you. For this fame Lord,

I doe repent: but heaven hath pleas'd it ſo.

To puniſh me with this, and this with me,

That I muſt be their Scourge and Minifter.

I will beſlow him, and will anſwer well

The death I gave him: ſo againe, good night.

I muſt be crueil, onely to be kind ;

This bad begins, and woeſe remains behind.

Quee. What ſhall I doe ?

Ham. Not this by no means that I bid you doe :
Let the blunt King tempt you againe to bed,
Pinch Wanton on your cheeke, call you his Mouſe,
And let him for a paire of reechy kiffes,

Or

["The Tragedie of Hamlet.", "292", "Or padling in your necke with his damn'd fingers,\nMake you to ravell all this matter out,\nThat I effentially am not in madneſſe,\nBut mad in craft. I were good you let him know,\nFor who that's but a Queene, faire, ſober, wife,\nWould from a Paddocke, from a Bat, a Gibbe,\nSuch deere concernings hide? Who would doe ſo?\nNo in deſpight of Senſe and Secrecy,\nVnpegge the Basket on the houſe top:\nLet the Birds flye, and like the famous Apes,\nTo try Conſuſions, in the Basket creepe,\nAnd breake your owne necke downe.", "Que. Be thou affur'd, it words be made of breath,\nAnd breath of life : I have no life to breath\nWhat thou haſt faſt to me.", "Ham. I muſt to England, you know that?", "Quee. Alacke I had forgot: Tis ſo concluded on.", "Ham. This man ſhall let me packing :", "Ile luggethe Guts into the Neighbor roome,\nMother goodnight. Indeede this Counſellor\nIs now moſt ſill, moſt ſecret, and moſt grave,\nWho was in life a fooliſh prating Knave.\nCome fir, to draw toward an end with you.\nGood night Mother.", "Exit Hamlet tugging in Polonius.", "Enter King.", "King. Theres matters in these ſighes.", "These profound heaves\nYou muſt tranſlate, Tis ſit we underſtand them.\nWhere is your Sonne ?", "Quee. Ah my good Lord, what have I ſeene to night ?", "King. What Gertrude ? How does Hamlet ?", "Quee. Mad as the Seas, and winde, when both contend\nWhich is the Mightier, in his lawleſſe ſit\nBehind the Arras, hearing ſomething ſtirre,\nHe whips his Rapier out, and cryes a Rat, a Rat,\nAnd in his braithiſh apprehenſion killes\nThe uneſene good old man.", "King. Oh heavy deed.", "It had bine ſo with us had we beene there :", "His Liberty is full of threats to all,", "To you your ſelfe, to us, to every one.", "Alas, how ſhall this bloody deede be anſwered ?", "It will be laid to us, whole providence", "Should have kept ſhort, reſtrain'd, and out of haunt,\nThis mad yong man. But ſo much was our love,\nWe would not underſtand what was moſt ſit,\nBut like the Owner of a foule diſeafe,\nTo keepe it from divulging, lets it feede]\nEven on the pith of life. Where is he gone ?", "Quee. To draw apart the body he hath kild,\nOre whom his very madneſſe like ſome Oare\nAmong a Minerall of Methals bafe\nShewes it ſelfe pure. He weepes for wat is done.", "King. Oh Gertrude, come away :", "The Sun no ſooner ſhall the Mounta ines touch,", "But we will ſhip him hence, and this vilde deed,\nWe muſt with all our Maſeſty and Skill\nBoth countenance, and excufe.", "Ho Gildenſtar:", "Enter Rofincros, and", "Gildenſtar.", "Gildenſtar.", "Friends both, go joyne you with ſome further ayde:\nHamlet in madneſſe hath Polonius ſaine,\nAnd from his Mothers Cloſet hath he dragg'd him.", "Goe ſeeke him out, ſpeake faire, and bring the body\nInto the Chappell. I pray you hafte in this. Exit Gent.\nCome Gertrude, we'll call up our wifef't friends,", "To let them know both what we meane to doe,\nAnd what untimely done. Oh come away,\nMy ſoule is full of diſcord and difmay.", "Enter Hamlet.", "Exeunt.", "Ham. Safely flowed.", "Gentlemen within Hamlet, Lord Hamlet.", "Ham. What noife ? Who cals on Hamlet ?", "Oh here they come. Enter Rofincros, and Gildenſtar.", "Rof. What have you done my Lord with the dead body?", "Ham. Compounded it with duſt, where to is kinne.", "Rofin. Tell us where tis, that we may take it thence,\nAnd beare it to the Chappell.", "Ham. Doe not beeleeve it.", "Rofin. Beleeve what ?", "Ham. That I can keepe your confell, and not mine\nowne. Befides, to be demanded of a Spundge, what re-\nplication ſhould be made by the Sonne of a King.", "Rofin. Take you me for a Spundge, my Lord ?", "Ham. I fir, that ſokes up the Kings Countenance, his\nRewards, his Authorities (but ſuch Officers do the King\nbeſt ſervice in the end.) He keepeſ them like an Ape in\nthe corner of his jaw, firſt mouth'd to be laſt ſallowed,\nwhen he needes what you have glean'd, it is but ſquee-\nzing you, and Spundge you ſhall be dry againe.", "Rofin. I underſtand you not my Lord.", "Ham. I am glad of it : a knavſh ſpeech ſleepes in a\nfooliſh eare.", "Rofin. My Lord, you muſt tell us where the body is,\nand goe with us to the King.", "Ham. The body is with the King, but the King is not\nwith the body. The King, is a thing—", "Guild. A thing my Lord ?", "Hm. Of nothing? bring me to him, hide Fox, and all\nafter.", "Enter King.", "Exeunt.", "King. I have ſent to keeke him, and to find the body:\nHow dangerous is it that this man goes loofe :", "Yet muſt not we put the ſtrong Law on him :", "He's loved of the diſtraſted multitude,", "Who like not in their judgement, but their eyes :", "And where tis ſo, th' Offenders ſcourge is weigh'd\nBnt neerer the offence : to beare all ſmooth, and even,\nThis ſodaine ſending him away, muſt ſeeme", "Deliberate paſne, diſeafeſes desperate growne,", "By deſperate appliance are relieved,", "Or not at all.", "Enter Rofincros.", "How now ? what hath beſalne ?", "Rofin. Where the dead body is beſtow'd my Lord,\nWe cannot get from him.", "King. But where is he ?", "Rofin. Without my Lord, guarded to know your plea-\nfure.", "King. Bring him before us.", "Rofin. Hoa, Gildenſtar ? bring in my Lord.", "Enter Hamlet and Gildenſtar.", "King. Now Hamlet, wheres Polonius ?", "Ham. At Supper,", "King. At Supper ? Where ?", "Ham. Not where he eats, but where he is eaten, a cer-\ntaine convocation of wormes are ene at him. Your worm\nis your onely Emperour for diet. We fat all creatures\nelſe to fat us, and we fat our ſelues for Magots. Your fat\nKing and your leane Begger is but variable ſervice, two\ndiſhes, but to one Table, that's the end.", "King. What doſt thou meane by this ?", "Ham.", "Ham.", "a Progreſſe", "King.", "Ham.", "ger finde the\nſelfe : but\nthall noſe\nKing.", "Ham.", "K. Ham.", "Which w", "For that w", "With fier", "The Bark", "Th' Affl", "For Eng", "Ham.", "King.", "Ham.", "King.", "Ham.", "England.", "King.", "Hamle", "Wife: M", "Come, for", "King.", "Tempt hi", "Delay it", "Aways, for", "That eſſe", "And Eng", "As my gr", {"bbox": [1120, 750, 117

The Tragedy of Hamlet.

293

Ham, Nothing but to flew you how a King may goe
a Progreffe through the gut of a Begger.

King. Where is Polonius?

Ham. In heaven, send thither to fee. If your Meffen-
ger finde him not there, feeke him i'th other place your
felfe: but indeed, if you finde him not this moneth, you
shall nofe him as you goe up the staires into the Lobby.

King. Goe feeke him there.

Ham. He will fly till ye come.

K, Hamlet, this deed of thine, for thine e speciall safety
Which we doe tender, as we dearely grieve
For that which thou haft done, muft tend thee hence
With fiery quickneſſe. Therefore prepare thy ſelfe,
The Barke is ready, and the wind at helpe,
Th' Associates tend, and every thing at bent
For England.

Ham, For England.

King, I, Hamlet.

Ham. Good.

King. So is it, if thou knewſt our purpofes.

Ham. I fee a Cherub that fees him : but come, for
England. Farewell deare Mother.

King. Thy loving Father Hamlet.

Hamlet, My Mother : Father and Mother is Man and
Wife : Man and Wife is one ſleſſa, and so my
Mother.
Come, for England.

King. Follow him at foot,
Tempt him with ſpeed aboord :

Delay it not, Ile have him hence to night.
Away, for every thing is Seal'd and done
That ſelfe leanes on th' Aſſaire, pray you make haſte.
And England, if my love thou hold it at ought,
As my great power thereof may give thee ſenſe,
Since yet thy Cicatrice looks raw and red
After the Daniſh Sword, and thy free awe
Pays your homage to us; thou maſſt not coldly ſet
Our Soveraigne Procreſſe, which imports at full
By letters conjuring to that effect
The prefent death of Hamlet. Doe it England,
For like the Heeticke in my blood he rages,
And thou muſt cure me : Till I know 'tis done,
How ere my haps, my joyes were ne're begun.

Exit.

Enter Fortinbras with an Army.

For. Goe Captaine, from me to the Daniſh King,
Tell him that by his licenſe, Fortinbras
Claims the conveyance of a promis'd March
Over his Kingdome. You know the Rendevouz :
If that his Majeſtie would ought with us,
We shall expreſſe our durie in his eye,
And let him know ſo.

Cap. I will doo', my Lord.

For. Goe safely on.

Exit.

Enter Queene and Horatio.

Qu. I will not ſpeake with her.

Hor. She is importunate, indeed diſtraet, her moode
will needs be pittied.

Qu. What would ſhe have?

Hor. She ſpeakes much of her Father; fayes ſhe heares
There's trickses i'th' world, and hems, and beats her heart,
Spurnes enviously at Strawes, ſpeakes things in doubt,
That carry but half ſenſe: Her ſpeech is nothing,
Yet the unſhaped uſe of it doth move
The hearers to Collection; they aym at it,
And both the words up fit to their owne thoughts.
Which as her winkes, and nods, and geſtures yeeld them,

Indeed would make one thinke there would be thought.
Though nothing ſure, yet much unhappily.

Qu. Were good ſhe were ſpoken with,
For ſhe may ſtrew dangerous conjectures
In ill breeding mindeſt. Let her come in
To my ſicke ſoule (as finnes true nature is)
Each toy ſeemes Prologue, to ſeme great amife,
So full of Artleſſe jealousy is guilt,
It ſpils it ſelfe in fearing to be ſpilt.

Enter Ophelia diſtraſt.

Oph. Where is the beauteous Majeſt of Denmark.

Qu. How now Ophelia?

Oph. How ſhould I your true love know from another
By his Cockle Hat and Straſe, and his Sandal Shoone (one?

Qu. Alas, sweet Lady : what imports this Song ?

Oph. Say you ? Nay, pray you marke.

He is dead and gone Lady, he is dead and gone,

At his head a graſſe-greene Turſe, at his heeles a ſtone.

Enter King.

Qu. Nay, but Ophelia.

Oph. Pray you marke.

White his ſhow'd as the Mountaine Snow.

Qu. Alas, looke here my Lord.

Oph. Larded with ſweet flowers :

Which bewept to the grave did not goe,

With True-love ſhowers.

King. How doe ye, pretty Lady ?

Oph. Well, God diſd you. They ſay the Owle was
a Bakers daughter. Lord, wee know what we are, but
know not what we may be. God be at your Table.

King. Conceit upon her Father.

Oph. Pray you let's have no words of this: but when
they aske you what it meanes, ſay you this:

To morrow is S. Valentines day, all in the quorne betime,

And I a Maid at your window, to be your Valentine (dore.

Then up he rose, & don'd his eloathes, & dupt the chamber

Let in the Maid, les in a Maid, never departed more.

King. Pretty Ophelia.

Oph. indeed la'd without an oath Ile make an end on't.

By gis, and by S. Charity.

Alacke, and ſie for ſhaime :

Tong men will doo', if they come too't,

By Cocke they are too blame.

Quoth ſhe before you tumbled me,

Tou promis'd me to wed :

So would I ha done, by yonder Sunne,

And thou hadst not come to my bed.

King. How long hath ſhe been thus?

Oph. I hope all will be well. Wee muſt be patieat,
but I cannot choose but weepe, to thinke they ſhould
lay him i'th' cold ground : My Brother ſhall know of it,
and fo I thanke you for your good counſell. Come, my
Coach : Goodnight Ladies : Goodnight ſweet Ladies :

Goodnight, goodnight.

Exit.

King. Follow her cloſe,

Give her good watch I pray you :

Oh this is the payſon of deepe griefe, it ſprings

All from her Father's death. Oh Gertrude, Gertrude,

When forrowes come, they come not ſingle ſpies,

But in Battaliaes. Firſt, her father ſlaine,

Next your ſonne gone, and he moſt violent author

Of his owne juſt remove : the people muddied,

Thicke and unwholſome in their thoughts and whifpers,

For good Polonius death ; and we have done but greenly,

In hugger mugger to interre him. Poore Ophelia

Divided from her ſelfe, and her faire judgement,

rr

Without

The Tragedy of Hamlet.

295

Make choyce of whom your wifeſt friends you will,
And they ſhall heare and judge twixt you and me;
If by direct or by Collaterall hand
They find us touch'd, we will our Kingdome give,
Our Crown, our Life, and all that we call Ours
To you in faſtisfaction. But if not,
Be you content to lend your paſience to us,
And we ſhall joyntly labour with your ſonſe
To give it due content.

Laer. Let this be ſo:
His meaneſ of death his obſcure buriall:
No Trophée, Sword, nor Hatchment ore his bones,
No Noble rite, nor ſormall oftentation,
Cry to be heard, as were from heaven to earth,
That I muſt call in queſtion.

King. So you ſhall;
And where th'offence is, let the great Axe fall.
I pray you goe with me.

Exeunt.

Enter Horatio, with an Attendant.

Horæ. What are they that would ſpeake with me ?

Ser. Sayors ſir, they ſaſh they have Letters for you.
Horæ. Let them come in,

I doe not know from what part of the world
I should be greeted, if not from Lord Hamlet.

Enter Saylor.

Say. God bleſſe your Sir.

Horæ. Let him bleſſe thee too.

Say. He ſhall Sir, and't pleaſe him. Theres a Letter
for you Sir: It comes from th'Ambaſladours that was
bound for England, if your name be Horatio: as I am let
to know it is.

Reads the Letter.

Horatio, When thou ſhalt have overlook'd this, give
thefe fellowes some meaneſ to the King: They have
Letters for him. Ere we were two dayes old at Sea, a Py-
tace of very Warlike appointment gave us Chace. Fiu-
ding our ſelves too flow of Saile, we put on a compelled Va-
lar. In the Grapple, I boorded them: On the instant they
take cleare of our Ship, ſo I alone became their Prisoner.
They have dealt with me, like Theeves of Mercy, but
they knew what they did. I am to doe a good turne for
them. Let the King have the Letters I have ſent, and re-
paire thou to me wish as much haſt as thou wouleſt flye
dead. I have words to ſpeake in your eare, will make thee
anume, yet are they much too light for the bore of the
Matter. These good ſellowes will bring thee where I am.
Reſoners and Gildenſtar, hold their course for England.
Of them I have much to tell thee, Farewell.

He that thou knoweſt thine,
Hamlet.

Come, I will give you way for theſe your Letters,
And do't the ſpeedier, that you may direct me
to him from whom you brought them.

Exit.

Enter King and Laertes.

King. Now muſt your confidence my acquittance ſcal,
And you muſt put me in your heart for friend,
Sith you have heard, and with a knowing eare,
That he which hath your Noble father ſaine,
Purſued my life.

Laer. It well appears. But tell me,
Why you proceeded not against theſe ſeates,
So crimefull, and ſo Capitall in Nature,
As by your Safety, Wifedome, all things eſſe,

You mainly were ſtruſt up?

King. O for two ſpeciall Reaſons,

Which may to you (perhaps) ſieme much unſinnowed,
And yet to me they are ſtrong. The Queene his Mother,
Lives almoſt by his lookes: and for my ſelfe,
My Vertue or my Plague, be it either which,
Shes ſo conjunctive to my life and ſoule;
That as the Starre moves not but in his Sphere,
I could not by her. The other Motive,
Why to a publike count I might not goe,
Is the great love the generall gender beare him,
Who dipping all his ſaults in their affection,
Would like the Spring that turneth Wood to Stone,
Convert his Gyves to Graces. So that my Arrowes
Too ſlightly timbred for ſo loud a Wind,
Would have reverted to my Bow againe,
And not where I had aym'd them.

Laer. And to have I a Noble father loſt,
A Sifter driven into desperate tarmes,
Who was (if praiſes may goe backe againe)
Stood Challenger on mount of all the Age
For her perfections. But my revenge will come.

King. Breake not your ſleepes for that;
You muſt not thinke
That we are made of ſtuffe, ſo flat, and dull,
That we can let our Beard be ſhooke with danger,
And thinke it paſttime. You ſhortly ſhall heare more,
How'd your father, and we love your ſelfe,
And that I hope will teach you to imagine.

Enter a Messenger.

How now? What News?

Mef. Letters my Lord from Hamlet. This to your

Majefy: this to the Queene.

King. From Hamlet? Who brought them?

Mef. Sayors my Lord they ſay, I law them not:

They were given me by Claudio, he receiv'd them.

King. Laertes you ſhall them :

Leave us.

Exit Messenger.

High and Mighty, you ſhall know I am ſet naked on your
Kingdome. To morrow shall I beg leave to ſee your King-
ly Eyes When I ſhall (first asking your Pardon thereunto)
recount th'Occasions of my ſodaine, and more ſtrangere-
turne.
Hamlet.

What ſhould this meane? Are all the reſt come backe?
Or is it ſome abufe? Or no ſuch thing?

Laer. Know you the hand?

King. Tis Hamlets Charaſter, naked, and in a Poſ-
ſcripture here he ſayes alone: Can you adviſe me ?

Laer. I'm loſt in it my Lord, but let him come,
It warmes the very ſickneſſ in my heart,
That I ſhall live and tell him to his teeth :

Thus diddeſt thou.

King. If it be ſo Laertes, as how ſhould it be ſo?

How otherwife? will you beru'd by me ?

Laer. If you'll not o'rrule me to a peace.

Kin. To thine owne peace: if he be now return'd,
As checking at his Voyage, and that he meanes
No more to undertake it; I will worke him
Toan enployt now ripe in my Device,
Under the which he ſhall not chooſe but fall:
And for his death no wind of blame (shall breath,
But even his Mother ſhall uncharge the practice,
And call it accident: Some two Months hence
Here was a Gentleman of Normandy.

I've ſeene my ſelfe and ſeru'd againſt the French,
And they ran well on Horſebacke; but this Gallant

rr 2

Had

296

The Tragedy of Hamlet.

Had witchcraft in't; he grew into his Seat,
And to such wondrous doing brought his Horfe,
As had he been encorps't and demy-Natur'd
With the brave Beauf, so farre he paft my thought,
That I in forgery of shapes and trickes,
Come short of what he did.

Laer. A Norman was't?

King. A Norman.

Lear. Vpon my life Lamound.

King. The very fame.

Laer. I know him well, he is the Brooch indeed,
And Iemme of all our Nation.

King. He made confection of you,
And gave you such a Mafterly report,
For Art and exercife in your defence;
And for your Rapier moft especially,
That he cryed out, 't would be a fight indeed,
If one could match you Sir. This report of his
Did Hamlet so envenom with his Envy,
That he could nothing doe but wish and begge,
Your sodaine comming over to play with him;
Now out of this.

Laer. Why out of this, my Lord ?

King. Laertes, was your Father deare to you ?
Or are you like the painting of a forrow,
A face without a heart?

Laer. Why aske you this ?

Kin. Not that I thinke you did not love your Father,
But that I know Love is begun by Time:
And that I see in paſſages of proofe,
Time qualifies the ſparke and fire of it :
Hamlet come backe, what would you undertake,
To ſhow your ſelfe your Fathers ſonne indeed,
More than in words?

Laer. To cut his throat i'th' Church.

Kin. No place indeed ſhould murder Sanctuarize;
Revenge ſhould have no bounds : but good Laertes,
Will you doe this, keepe cloſe within your Chamber ?
Hamlet return'd, ſhall know you are come home :
Wee'l put on thofe ſhall praiſe your excellence,
And ſet a double varnifh on the fame
The Frenchman gave you, bring you in fine together,
And wager on your heads, he being remiſſe,
Moſt generous, and ſee from all contriving,
Will not perſufe the Foiles ? So that with caſe,
Or with a little shuſſling, you may choofe
ASword unbaited, and in a paſſe of practice,
Requit him for your Father.

Laer. I will doo't,

And for that purpope Ile annoi my Sword :
I bought an Vnction of a Mountebanke
So mortall, I but dipt a knife in it,
Where it drawes blood, no Cataplaſme ſo rare,
Collected from all Simples that have Vertue
Vnder the Moone, can ſave the thing from death,
That is but ſcratct withall : I letouch my point,
With this contagion, that if I gall him flightly,
It may be death.

Kin. Let's further thinke of this,
Weigh what convenience both of time and means
May fit us to our ſhape, if this ſhould faile ;
And that our drift looke through our bad performance,
Twere better not affair'd; therefore this Project
Should have a backe or ſecon'd, that might hold,
If this ſhould blaſt in proofe: Soft, let me fee
Wee'l make a ſolemne wager on your commings,

I ha't : when in your motion you are hot and dry,
As make your bowts more violent to the end,
And that he cals for drinke ; Ile have prepar'd him
A Challice for the nonce ; whereon but fipping,
If he by chance eſcape your venom'd fluck,
Our purpofe may hold there ; how now馮 Queene.

Enter Queene.

Queen. One woe cloth tread upon anotheres heele,
So faſt they'l follow : your Sifter's drown'd Laertes.

Laer. Drown'd ! O where ?

Queen. There is a Willow growes allant a Brooke,
That thewes his hore leaves in the glaſſe fireame :
There with fantasticke Garlands did ſhe come,
Of Crow-flowers, Nettles, Dayſies, and long Purples,
That liberall Shepheards give a groſſer name;
But our cold Maids doe Dead Mens Fingers call them :
There on the pendant boughes, her Coronet weeds
Clambring to hang; an envious ſliver broke,
When downe the weedy Trophies, and her ſelfe,
Fell in the weeping Brooke, her cloathes ſpred wide,
And Mermaid-like, a while they bore her up,
Which time ſhe chaunted ſnatches of old tunes,
As one incapable of her owne diſtreſſe,
Or like a creature Native, and deduced
Vnto that element : but long it could not be,
Till that her garments, heavy with their drinke,
Pull'd the poore wretch from her melodious by,
To muddy death.

Laer. Alas then, is ſhe drown'd ?

Queen. Drown'd, drown'd, drown'd.

Laer. Too much of water haſt thou poore Ophelia,
And therefore I forbid my teares : but yet
It is our tricke, Nature her cuſtome holds,
Let ſhame ſay what it will; when theſe are gone
The woman will be out : Adue my Lord,
I have a ſpeech of fire, that faire would blaze,
But that this folly drownes it.

Exit.

King. Let's follow, Gertrude :
How much I had to doe to calme his rage ?
Now ſcare I this will give it ſtart againe ;
Therefore let's follow.

Exeunt.

Enter two Clownes.

Clown. Is ſheto be buried in Chriſtian buriall, that
wilfully ſeekes her owne falvation?

Other. I tell thee ſhe is, and therefore make her Grave
ſtraight, the Crowner hath ſate on her, and finds it Chri-
ſtian buriall.

Clo. How can that be, unleſſe ſhe drowned her ſelfe in
her owne defence?

Other. Why 'tis found ſo.

Clo. It muſt be ſe offendendo, it cannot be eſſe : for
here lies the point: If I drown my ſelfe wittingly, it ar-
guesan Act : and an Act hath three branches. It is an Act
to doe, and to performe; argall ſhe drown'd her ſelfe witt-
ingly.

Other. Nay but here you Goodman Delver.

Clown. Give me leave; here lies the water, good :
here ſtands the man, good : if the man goe to this wa-
ter and drowne himſelfe ; it is will he, nill he, hee goes;
marke you that ? But if the water come to him & drowne
him ; he drownes not himſelfe. Argall, he that is not
guilty of his owne death, shortens not his owne life.

Other. But is this Law?

Clo. I marry is't, Crowners Queſt Law.

Other.

The Tragedy of Hamlet.

207

*Other.* Will you ha the truth on't: if this had not been a Gentlewoman, shee should have beene buried out of Christian Buriall.

*Clo.* Why there thou fay it? And the more pitty that great folke should have countenance in this world to drowne or hang themfelves, more than their even Christian. Come, my Spade; there is no ancient Gentlemen, but Gardiners, Ditchers and Grave-makers; they hold up Adams profession.

*Other.* Was he a Gentleman ?

*Clo.* He was the first that ever bore Armes.

*Other.* Why he had none.

*Clo.* What, art a Heathen ? how doft thou understand the Scripture, ? the Scripture fayes Adam digg'd; could he digge without Armes? He put another queftion to thee? If thou anwereft me not to the purpofe, confefle thy felfe.

*Other.* Goe to.

*Clo.* What is he that builds stronger than either the Mafon, the Shipwright or the Carpenter ?

*Other.* The Gallowes maker, for that Frame out-lives a thousand Tenants.

*Clo.* I like thy wit well in good faith, the Gallowes does well; but how does it well ? it does well to thofe that doe ill: now thou doft ill to fay the Gallowes is built stronger than the Church: Argall, the Gallowes may doe well to thee. Too't againe, Come.

*Other.* Who builds stronger than a Mafon, a Shipwright, or a Carpenter ?

*Clo.* I, tell me that, and unyoke.

*Other.* Marry, now I can tell.

*Clo.* Too't.

*Other.* Maffe, I cannot tell.

*Enter Hamlet and Horatio a farre off.*

*Clo.* Cudgell thy brains no more about it; for your dall Affe will not mend his pace with beating; and when you are askt this queftion next, fay a Grave-maker : the Houſes that he makes, lafts till Doomes-day: go, get thee to Taughan, fetch me a floape of Liquor.

*Sings.*

*In youth when I did love, did love, me thought it was very sweet, To contrast O the for a my beheve, O me thought there was nothing meet.*

*Ham.* Ha's this fellow no feeling of his buſineſſe, that he ſings at Grave-making ?

*Hor.* Cuitome hath made it in him a property of cauſiſe.

*Ham.* Tis ee'n fo ; the hand of little employment hath the daintier ſenſe.

*Clowne ſings.*

*But Age with his fealing ſteps hath caught me in his clutch :*

*And hath ſbipped me intill the Land, as if I had never been ſuch.*

*Ham.* That Scull had a tongue in it, and could ſing once: how the Knave jowles it to th' ground, as if it were Caines law-bone, that did the first murthe: It might be the Pate of a Politian which this Affe ore-Ofſices: one that could circumvent God, might it not ?

*Hor.* It might, my Lord.

*Ham.* Or of a Courtier, which could fay, Good Morn, sweet Lord: how doſt thou, good Lord ? this might be my Lord ſuch a one, that prais'd my Lord ſuch a ones horſe, when he meant to begg it; might it not?

*Hor.* I, my Lord.

*Ham.* Why ee'n fo : and now my Lady Wormes, Chapleſſe, and knockt about the Mazzard with a Sextons Spade; heere's fine Revolution, if we had the tricke to fee't. Did theſe bones coſt no more the breeding, but to play at Loggets with 'em ? mine ake to thinke on't.

*Clowne ſings.*

*A Picke-axe and a Spade, a Spade, for and a ſhrowding-ſneet ;*

*O a Pit of Clay for to be made, for ſuch a Gueſt is meet.*

*Ham.* There's another : why might not that be the Scull of a Lawyer ? where be his Quiddits now ? his Quillets ? his Cafes ? his Tenures, and his Trickes ? why doe's he ſuffer this rude knave now to knocke him about the Sconce with a dirty Shovell, and will not tell him of his Action of Batterry ? hum. This fellow might be in's time a great buyer of Land, with his Statutes, his Regocijances, his Fines, his double Vouchers, his Recoveries: Is this the fine of his Fines, and the recovery of his Recoveries, to have his fine Pate full of fine Dirt? wilt hiſ Vouchers vouch him no more of his Purchafes, and double ones too, then the length and breadth of a pair of Indentures ? the very Conveyances of his Lands will hardly lye in this Boxe; and muſt the Inheritor himſelfe have no more ? ha ?

*Hor.* Not a jot more my Lord.

*Ham.* Is not Parchment made of Sheep-skinnes ?

*Hor.* I my Lord, and of Calve-skinnes too.

*Ham.* They are Sheepe and Calves that feeke out affuſance in that. I will ſpeake to this fellow: whose Grave's this Sir?

*Clo.* Mine Sir:

*O a pit of Clay for to be made, for ſuch a Gueſt is meet.*

*Ham.* I thinke it be thine indeed : for thou lieſt in't.

*Clo.* You lie out on't Sir, and therefore it is not yours: for my part I doe not lie in't, and yet it is mine.

*Ham.* Thou doſt lye in't, to be in't, and fay tis thine: tis for the dead, not for the quicke, therefore thou lyeſt.

*Clo.* Tis a quicke lye Sir, twill away againe from mee to you.

*Ham.* What man doſt thou digge it for ?

*Clo.* For no man Sir.

*Ham.* What woman then ?

*Clo.* For none neither.

*Ham.* Who is to be buried in't?

*Clo.* One that was a woman Sir; but reſt her foule ſhe'e's dead.

*Ham.* How abſolute the Knave is ? wee muſt ſpeake by the Carde, or equivocation will follow us: by the Lord Horatio, theſe three yeares I have taken note of it, the Age is growne ſo picked, and the toe of the Peſant comes ſo neare the heele of our Courtier, hee gails his Kibe. How long haſt thou been a Grave-maker ?

*Clo.* Of all the dayes i' th' yeare, I came too't that day that our laſt King Hamlet orecame Fortinbras.

*Ham.* How long is that ſince ?

*Clo.* Cannot you tell that ? every ſoole can tell that: It was the very day that young Hamlet was borne, hee that was mad and ſent into England.

*Ham.* I marry, why was he ſent into England?

*Clo.* Why, becauſe he was mad ; he ſhall recover his wits there; or if he does not, its no great matter there.

rr 3

*Hams*.

The Tragedy of Hamlet.

298

Ham. Why?

Clown. Twill not be feene in him, there the men are
as mad as he.

Ham. How came he mad?

Clo. Very ftrangely they fay.

Ham. How ftrangely?

Clo. Fathc'ene with loofing his wits.

Ham. Vpon what ground?

Clo. Why here in Denmarke : I have been Sexefrone
here. Man and Boy thirty yeeres.

Ham. How long will a man lie'ith'earth ere he rot?

Clo. Ifaith, if he be not rotten before he dye( as we have
many pocky Coarfes now adayes, that will I scarce hold
the laying in) he will laft you fome eight yeere, or nine
yeare. A Tanner will laft you nine yeares.

Ham. Why he, more than another?

Clo. Why fir, his hide is fo tand with his Trade, that
he will keepe out water a great while. And your water
is a fore Decayer of your whorfon dead body, heres a
Scull now: this Scull has laine in the earth three and
twenty yeeres.

Ham. Whofe was it?

Clo. A whofeon mad Fellowes it was;

Whofe doe you thinke it was ?

Ham. Nay, I know not.

Clo. A peftility on him for a mad Rogne, a pow'r'd
a Flagon of Renish on my head once. This fame Scull
Sir, this fame Scull fir, was Toricks Scull the Kings lefter.

Ham. This?

Clo. E'ene that.

Ham. Let me fee. Alas poore Toricks, I knew him
Horatio, a fellow of infinite left; of moft excellent fancy,
he hath borne me on his backe a thoufand times : And how
abhorred my imagination is, my gorge rifes at it. Here
hung thofe lippes, that I have kiff I know not how of.
Where be your libes now? Your Gambals ? Your
Songs? Your flaſhes of Merriment that were want to
fet the Table on a Rore? No one now to mocke your own
Ieering? Quite chopfalne? Now get you to my Ladies
Chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thicke, to this
favour ſhe muſt come. Make her laugh at that : pry-
thee Horatio tell me one thing,

Her. What's that my Lord?

Ham. Doſt thou thinke Alexander lookt o'this fa-
ſhion i'th'earth?

Hor. E'ene ſo.

Ham. And ſmelt ſo ? Puh.

Hor. E'ene ſo my Lord.

Ham. To what bafe ſues we may returne Horatio,
Why may not imagination trace the Noble duſt of Alex-
ander, till he find it ſtopping a banghole.

Hor. Twere to confider: too curiously to confider ſo.

Ham. No faith, not a jot. But to follow him thither
with modety enough, and likelihood to lead it; as thus.
Alexander dyed; Alexander was buried : Alexander re-
turneth into duſt; the duſt is earth; of earth we make
Lome, and why of that Lome (whereto he was conver-
ted) might they not ſtop a Beere-barrell?

Imperiall Caſar, dead and turn'd to clay,
Might ſtop a hole to keepe the wind away.
Oh, that that earth, which kept the world in awe,
Should patch a Wall, expell the Winters flaw.
But ſoft, but ſoft; afide, heere comes the King.

Enter King, Queene, Laertes, and a Coffin,
with Lords attendant.

The Queene, the Courtiers. Who is't that they follow,

And with ſuch maimed rights? This doth betoken,
The Coarſe they follow, did with deferpeate hand,
Foredoe it owne life; twas ſome Eſtate.

Couch we a while, and marke.

Laer. What Ceremony elfe ?

Ham. That is Laertes, a very Noble youth : Marke.

Laer. What Ceremony elfe?

Prieft. Her Obſequies have beene as farre enlarg'd,
As we have warrantie, her death was doubtfull,
And but that great command, o'rewayes the order,
She should in ground unſanctified have lodg'd,
Till the laſt Trumpet. For charitable prayer,
Shardes, Flints, and Peebles, should be throwne on her :
Yet here ſhe is allowed her Virgin Rites.
Her Maiden ftrewments, and the bringing home
Of Bell and Buriall.

Laer. Muſt there no more be done ?

Prieft. No more be done :

We should prophane the ſervice of the dead,
To ſing ſage Requiem, and ſuch reſt to her
As to peace-parted Soules.

Laer. Lay her i'th'earth,
And from her faire and unpolluted ſelfh,
May Violets (pring. I tell thee (churliſh Prieft)
A Miniftring Angell ſhall my Sifter be,
When thou leſt howling ?

Ham. What, the faire Ophelia?

Queen. Sweets, to the sweet ſarewell,
I hop'd thou should'ſt have been my Hamlets wife:
I thought thy Bride-bed to have deckt (I ween) Maid)
And not have ſtrew'd thy Grave.

Laer. O terrible woofer,
Fall ten times trebble on that curled head
Whofe wicked deed, thy moſt ingenious ſenſe
Depriv'd thee of. Hold off the earth a while,
Till I have caught her once more in mine armes:

Leaps in the grave.

Now pile your duſt upon the quicke and dead,
Till of this flat a mountaine you have made,
To o'retop old Pelion, or the skyſh head
Of Blew Olympus.

Ham. What is he, whose griefes

Beares ſuch an Emphaſis ? who ſhaſe of ſorrow
Conjures the wandring Starres, and makes them ſtand
Like wonder-wounded hearers ? This is I,
Hamlet the Dane.

Laer. The Divell take thy foule.

Ham. Thou prai't not well,
I prythee take thy fingers from my throat;
Sir though I am not ſpleenative and rafh,
Yet have I ſomething in me dangerous,
Which let thy wifeneſſe ſcare. Away thy hand

King. Plucke them afunder.

Queen. Hamlet, Hamlet.

Gen. Good my Lord be quiet.

Ham. Why I will fight with him upon this Theame.
Vntill my eye-lids will no longer wag.

Queen, Oh my Sonne, what Theame?

Ham. I lov'd Ophelia; forty thoufand brothers

Could not (with all their quantity of love)

Make up my ſumme. What wilt thou doe for her?

King. Oh he is mad Laertes,

Qu. For love of God forbeare him.

Ham. Come ſhew me what thou'lt doc.
Woo't weepe ? woo't fight ? woo't teare thy ſelfe?

Woo't drinke up Eſite, cate a Crocodile ?

Ile

The Tragedy of Hamlet.

299

Ile doot. Doft thou come here to whine;
To outface me with leaping in her Graue?
Be buried quicke with her, and fo will I.
And if thou prate of Mountaines ; let them throw
Millions of Akers on vs ; till our ground
Sinding his pate againſt the burning Zone,
Make Offs like a Wart. Nay, and thon't menthe,
Ile rant as well as thou.

King. This is meere madneſſe :
And thus a while the fit will worke on him :
Anon as patient as the female Dove,
When that her golden Cuplet are diſclos'd;
His ſilence will fit drooping.

Ham. Heare you fir :
What is the reaſon that you uſe me thus ?
I lou'd you ever ; but it is no matter :
Let Hercules himſelfe do what he may,
The Cat will mew, and Dog will have his day.

Exiſt.

King. I pray you good Horatio, wait upon him,
Strengthen you patience in our last nights ſpeech,
Wee I put the matter to the preſent pufh :
Good Gertrude, let ſome watch over your ſonne,
This Grave ſhall have a living Monument :
An hour of quiet ſhortly ſhall we fee;
Till then in patience our proceeding be.

Exenunt.

Enter Hamlet and Horatio.

Ham. So much for this firſt, now let me fee the other,
You doe remember all the circumſtance.

Hor. Remember it my Lord.

Ham. Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting,
That would not let me fleepe; me thought I lay
Worfe than the mutines in the Bilboes, raſhly,
(And praiſe be rafhneſſe for it) let us know,
Our indiſcretion ſometimes ſerves us well,
When our deare plots do paule, and that ſhould teach us,
There's a Divinity that ſhapes our ends,
Rough-hew them how we will.

Hor. That is moſt certain.

Ham. Vp from my Cabin

My Sea-gowne ſcarſt about me in the darke,
Grop'd I to find out them; had my defire,
Finger'd their Packer, and in fine, withdrew
To mine owne roome againe, making ſo bold,
(My teares forgetting manners) to unſale
Their grand Commiſſion, where I found Horatio,
Oh royal knavery : An exact command,
Larded with many ſeverall forts of reaſon:
Importing Denmarks health, and Englands too,
With hooſ, inch Bugges and Goblins in my life,
That on the ſupervize no leaſure bated,
Non to ſlay the gringding of the Axe,
My head ſhould be ſtrucke off.

Hor. Iſt poffible ?

Ham. Here's the Commiſſion, reade it at more leiſure:
But wile thou heare how I did pŕoceed?

Hor. I beſeech you.

Ham. Being thus benetted round with Villaines,
Ere I could make a Prologue to my braines,
They had begun the Play. I ſate me downe,
Devis'd a new Commiſſion, wrote it faire,
I once did hold it as our Statitls doe,
A baſeneſſe to write faire; and laboured much
How to forget that learning; but fir now,
It did me yeomanſ service: wile thou know
The effects of what I wrote?

Hor. I, good my Lord.

Ham. An earneſt Conjuration from the King,
As England was his faithfull Tributary,
As love betweene them, as the Palme ſhould flouriſh,
As Peace ſhould ſtill her wheaten Garland weare,
And ſtand a Comma tweene their amities,
And many ſuch like Aſſis of great charge,
That on the view and know of these Contents,
Without debateament further, more or leſſe,
He ſhould the bearers put to ſodaine death,
Not ſhriving time allowed.

Hor. How was this ſeal'd ?

Ham. Why, even in that was heaven ordinate;
I had my fathers Sigpet in my Purſe,
Which was the Modell of that Daniſh Seale :
Folded the Writ up in forme of the other,
Subſcrib'd it, gau'th' Impreſſion, plac'd it safely,
The changling never knowne: Now, the next day
Was our Sea-fight, and what to this was ſement,
Thou know'd it already.

Hor. So Gildenſtare and Rofincros, goe too't.

Ham. Why man, they did make love to this imployment
They are not neere my confidence; their debate
Doth by their owne infinuation grow:
Tis dangerous when baſer nature comes
Betweene the paffe, and fell incenſed points
Of mighty oppoſites.

Hor. Why, what a King is this ?

Ham. Does it not, think'ſt thee, ſtand me now vpon,
He that hath kill'd my King, and whor'd my Mother,
Popt in betweene th' election and my hopes,
Throwne out his Angle for my proper life,
And with ſuch cozenagen; is't not perfect confidence,
To quit him with his armes; And is't not to be damn'd
To let this Canker of our nature come
In further evil.

Hor. It muſt be ſhortly knowne to him from England
What is the ille of the busineſſe there.

Ham. It will be ſhort,
The interim's mine, and a mans life's no more
Than to ſay one ; but I am very forry good Horatio,
That to Læsttes I forgot my ſelfe;
For by the image of my cauſe I fee
The portraiture of his; Ile count his favours :
But ſure the bravery of his griefe did put me
Into a Towring paffion.

2 Hor. Peace, who comes here?

Enter Oſricke.

(marke,

Oſr. Your Lordſhip is right welcome backe to Den-
Ham. I humbly thanke you fir, doſt know this waterſly?

Hor. No my good Lord.

Ham. Thy ſtate is the more gracious; for tis a Vice to
know him: hee hath much Land, and fertile; let a Beaſt
be Lord of Beaſts, and his Crib ſhall ſtand at the Kings
Meffe; tis a Chough; but as I ſay, I pacious in the poffet-
ſion of dirt.

Oſr. Swet Lord, if your friendſhip were at leaſure, I
hould impart a thing to you from his Majety.

Ham. I will receive it with all diligence of ſpirit; put
your Bonnet to his right ſule, tis for the head.

Oſr. I, thanke your Lordſhip, tis very hot.

Ham. No, beleeve mee, tis very cold, the wind is Nor-
therly.

Oſr. It is indifferent cold my Lord indeed.

Ham. Mee thinkes it is very ſoulry, and hot for my
Complexion.

Oſricke

300

The Tragedy of Hamlet.

Ors. Exceedingly, my Lord, it is very foultry, as 'twere I cannot tell how: but my Lord, his Majesty bad me figure to you, that he has laid a great wager on your head: Sir, this is the matter.

Ham. I befeech you remember.

Ors. Nay, in good faith, for mine ease in good faith: Sir, you are not ignorant of what excellence Laertes is at his weapon.

Ham. What's his weapon?

Ors. Rapier and Dagger.

Ham. That's two of his weapons; but well.

Ors. The King fir has wag'd with him fixe Barbary horles, againſt the which he impon'd, as I take it, fixe French Rapiers and Poniards, with their affignes, as Girdle, Hangers, or fo; three of the carriages inſaith are very deare to fancy, very responsive to the hilts, moſt delicate carriages, and of very liberall conceit.

Ham. What call you the Carriages?

Ors. The Carriages Sir, are the Hangers.

Ham. The phrase would be more Germane to the matter: If we could carry Cannon by our fides; I would it might be Hangers till then; but on, fixe Barbary Horles, againſt fixe French Swords: their Aſſignes and three liberall conceited carriages, that's the French, but againſt the Daniſh: why is this impon'd as you call it?

Ors. The King Sir, hath laid that in a dozen paffes betweene you and him, he ſhall not exceed you three hits; He hath one twelve for mine, and that would come to immediate triall, if your Lordſhip would vouchſake the Anſwer.

Ham. How if I anſwer no?

Ors. I meane my Lord the oppofition of your perſon in triall.

Ham. Sir, I will walke here in the Hall; if it pleaſe his Majefſtie, 'tis the breathing time of day with me; let the Foyles be brought, the Gentleman willing, and the King hold his parpofe; I will winne for him if I can: if not, Ile gaine nothing but my ſhame, and the odde hits.

Ors. Shall I redeliver you ee'n fo?

Ham. To this effect Sir, after what flourish your nature will.

Ors. I commend my duty to your Lordſhip.

Exit.

Ham. Yours, yours; he does well to commend it himſelfe, there are no tongues eſſe for's tongue;

Hor. This Lapwing runs away with the ſhell on his head.

Ham. He did Comply with his Dug before he fuckt it: thus had he and nine more of the fame Beavy that I know the droſſie Age dotes on; only got the tune of the time, and outward habite of encounter, a kind of yeſt collection, which carries them through & through the moſt fond and winnowed opinions; and doe but blow them to their tryalls, the Bubbles are out.

Hor. You will loſe this wager, my Lord.

Ham. I doe not thinke so, ſince he went into France, I have beene in continual practice; I ſhall winne at the odds; but thou wouldſt not thinke how all heere about my heart: but it is no matter.

Hor. Nay, good my Lord.

Ham. It is but foolery; but it is ſucha kind of gainſing as would perhaps trouble a woman.

Hor. If your mind diſlike any thing, obey. I will forſtall their repaire hither, and ſay you are not fit.

Ham. Not a whit, we defie Angury ſthere a ſpeciall Providence in the fall of a Sparrow. If it be now, tis not to come: if it be not to come, it will be now: if it

be not now; yet it will come; the readineſſe is all, ſince no man ha's ought of what he leaves. What is't to leave be-times?

Enter King, Queene, Laertes and Lirds, with other Attendants with Foyles, and Gauntlets, a Table and Flagons of Wine on it.

Kin. Come Hamlet, come, and take this hand from me.

Ham. Give me your pardon fir, I've done you wrong. But pardon't as you are a Gentleman. This prefence knowes,

And you muſt needs have heard how I am puniſh'd

With ſore diſtraCTION? What I have done

That might your natures honor, and exception

Roughly awake, I here proclaime was madneſſe:

Was't Hamlet wrong'd Laertes? Never Hamlet?

If Hamlet from himſelfe be tane away:

And when he's not himſelfe, do's wrong Laertes,

Then Hamlet doe's it not, Hamlet denies it:

Who does it then? His madneſſe? If't be so,

Hamlet is of the Faction that is wrong'd,

His Madneſſe is poore Hamlets enemy.

Sir, in this Audience,

Let my diſclaiming from a purpov'd evill,

Free me ſo farre in your moſt generous thoughts,

That I have ſhot mine Arrow o're the houſe,

And hurt my Mother.

Laer. I am ſatisfied in Nature,

Whose motive in this cafe should ſirre me moſt

To my Revenge. But in my termes of honor

I ſtand aloofe, and will no reconcilement,

Till by ſome elder Maſters of knowne honour,

I have a voyce, and preſident of peace

To keepe my name ungorg'd. But till that time,

I doe receive your offer'd love like love,

And will not wrong it.

Ham. I doe embrace it freely,

And will this brothers wager frankly play.

Give us the Foyles: Come on.

Laer. Come one for me.

Ham. Ile be your Foyle Laertes, in mine ignorance,

Your skill ſhall like a Starre i'th'brighteſt night,

Sticke fiery off indeed.

Laer. You mocke me fir.

Ham. No, by this hand.

Kin. Give the Foyles young Oſtricke,

Couſen Hamlet, you know the wager.

Ham. Very well my Lord,

Your Grace hath laid the odds at' weaker ſide.

King. I doe not feare it,

I have ſeene you both:

But ſince he is better'd, we have therefore odds.

Laer. This is too heavy,

Let me fee another.

Ham. This likes me well,

Theſe Foyles have have all a length,

Prepare to Play.

Ors. I my good Lord.

Kin. Set me the Stopes of Wine upon that Table:

If Hamlet give the firſt, or ſecond hit,

Or quit in anſwer of the third exchange,

Let all the Battlements their Ordnance fire,

The King ſhall drinke to Hamlets better breath,

And in the Cup an union ſhall he throw

Richer than that, which ſoure ſucceffive King's

In Denmarkes Crowne have worne.]

Give

["The Tragedy of Hamlet.", "301", "Giveme the Cups,", "And let the Kettle to the Trumpets speak,\nThe Trumpet to the Canoneer without,\nThe Cannons to the Heavens, the Heaven to Earth,\nNow the King drinkes to Hamlet. Come,begin,\nAnd you the Audges bear a wary eye,", "Ham. Come on fir.\nLaer. Come on fir.", "They play.", "Ham. One.\nLaer. No.", "Ham. Indgement.", "Ofr. A hit, a very palpable hit.", "Laer. Well: againe.\nKing. Stay, give me drinke.", "Hamlet, this Pearle is thine,", "Here's to thy health. Give him the Cup,", "Trumper found, fboot goes off.", "Ham. Ile play this bout first, let by a while.", "Come: Another hit; what say you?", "Laer. A touch, a touch, I doe confeſſe.", "King. Our ſonne ſhall win.", "Qu. He's fat, and ſcant of breath.", "Here's a Napkin, rub thy brows,", "The Queene Carowles to thy fortune, Hamlet.", "Ham. Good Madam.", "King. Gerrtrude, do not drinke.", "Qu. I will my Lord;", "I pray you pardon me.", "King. It is the poyſon'd Cup, it is too late.", "Ham. I dare not drinke yet Madam,", "By and by.", "Qu. Come, let me wipe thy face.", "Laer. My Lord Ile hit him now.", "King. I doe not think't.", "Laer. And yet 'tis almost 'gainſt my confidence.", "Ham. Come, for the third.", "Laertes, you but dally,", "Ipray you paffe with your beſt violence,", "I am affeard you make a wanton of me.", "Laer. Say you to? Come on.", "Ofr. Nothing neither way.", "Laer. Have at you now.", "In ſeuffling they change Rapiers.", "King. Part them, they are incens'd.", "Ham. Nay, come againe.", "Ofr. Looke to the Queene there hoa.", "Hor. They bleed on both sides. How is't my Lord?", "Ofr. How is't Laertes?", "Laer. Why as a Woodcocke", "Tomy Sprindge, Ofricks,", "I am juſtly kill'd with mine owne treachery.", "Ham. How does the Queene?", "King. She founds to fee them bleed.", "Qu. No, no the drinke, the drinke,\nOh my deare Hamlet, the drinke, the drinke,\nI am poyſon'd.", "Ham. Oh Villany! How ? Let the door be lock'd;\nTreachery, feeke it out.", "Laer. It is here Hamlet.", "Hamlet, thou art flaine,", "No medicine in the world can doe thee good.", "In thee there is not half an houre of life ;", "The treacherons Inſtrument is in thy hand,", "Vnbaſted and envenom'd: the foule præſtife", "Hath turn'd it ſelſe on me, Loe, here I lye.", "Never to rife againe: Thy Mothers poyſon'd:", "I can no more, the King, the King's to blame.", "Ham. The point envenom'd too,", "Then venome to thy worke.", "Hurtsthe King.", "All. Treafon, Treafon.", "King. O yet defend me Friends, I am but harte.", "Ham. Heere thou inſeſtuous, murdrous,", "Damned Dane.", "Drinke off this Potion: I thy Vnion here?", "Follow my Mother.", "King Dyes.", "Laer. He is juſtly ferv'd.", "It is a poyſon temp'red by himſelfe:", "Exchange forſigveneſſe with me, Noble Hamlet;", "Mine and my Fathers death come not upon thee,", "Nor thine on me.", "Dyes.", "Ham. Heaven make thee free of it, I follow thee.", "I am dead Heratio, wretched Queene adiew,", "You that looke pale and tremble at this chance,", "That are but Mutes or audience at this act:", "Had I but time ( as this fell Sergeant death\nIs ſtrick't in this Arreſt ) oh I could tell you,", "But let it be : Horatio, I am dead,", "Thou liv't, report me and my cauſes right", "To the unſatistied.", "Hor. Never beleeve it.", "I am more an Antike Roman then a Dane:", "Heere's yet ſome Liquor left.", "Ham. As th'art a man, give me the Cup,", "Let go, by heaven Ile hav't.", "Oh good Horatio, what a wounded name,", "(Things standing thus unknowne) ſhall live behind me.", "If thou did't ever hold me in thy heart,", "Abſent thee from felicitie a while,", "And in this harſh world draw thy breath in paine,", "To tell my Storie.", "March a farre off, and ſhout within.", "What warlike noyſe is this ?", "Enter Ofricks.", "(land,", "Ofr. Yong Fortinbras, with conqueſt come from Po-\nTo th' Ambaſſadors of England gives this warlike volly.", "Ham. O I dye Horatio:", "The potenti poyſon quie ore-crowes my ſpirit,\nI cannot live to heare the Newes from England.", "But I doe propheſie th'election lights", "On Fortinbras, he ha's my dying voyce,", "So tell him with the occurrens more and leſſe,", "Which have ſolicited. The reſt is ſilence, O, O, O, O, O, O, O, O, O, O, O,

The Tragedy of Hamlet.

That Rosencros and Guildenstfar are dead :
Where should we have our thanks ?
Hor. Not from his mouth,
Had it th'ability of life to thank you :
He never gave command'ment for their death.
But since I jumpe upon this bloody question,
You from the Polake warres, and you from England
Are here arrived. Give order that these bodies
High on a ftage be placed to the view,
And let me speake to th'yet unknowing world,
How these things came about. So shall you heare
Of carnall, bloody, and unnaturall acts,
Of accidentall judgements, cauall slaughters
Of death's put on by cunning, and forc'd caufe,
And in this upshot, purpofes miftooke,
Falne on the Inventors heads. All this can I
Truly deliver.
For. Let us haſte to heare it,
And call the Nobleft to the Audience.
For me, with forrow, I embrace my Fortune,
I have fome Rites of memory in this Kingdome,

Which are to claime, my vantage doth
Invite me.
Hor. Of that I shall alwayes caufe to speake
And from his mouth
Whofe voyce will draw on more :
But let this fame be prefently perform'd,
Even whiles mens mindes are wilde,
Left more miſchance
On plots, and errours happen.
For. Let foure Captaines
Beare Hamlet like a Souldier to the Stage,
For he was likely, had he beene put on
To have prov'd moſt royalty :
And for his paſſage,
The Souldiers Muficke, and the rites of Warre
Speake loudly for him.
Take up the body; Such a fight as this
Becomes the Field, but here ſhewes much amiſt
Goe, bid the Souldiers shoot.

*Exeunt Marching : after the which, a Peale of Ordnance areʃot off.*

F I N I S.

THE TRAGEDIE OF
KING LEAR.

Actus Primus. Scena Prima.

Enter Kent, Gloster, and Edmond.

Kent.

Thought the King had more affected the Duke
of Albany, then Cornwall.

Glou. It did always seeme to us : But now
in the division of the Kingdome, it appeares not
which of the Dukes he values moft, for qualities are so
weigh'd, that curiosty in neither, can make choice of ei-
ters moity.

Kent. Is not this your sonne, my Lord ?

Glou. His breeding Sir, hath been at my charge. I have
so often blushed to acknowledge him, that now I am
brazed too't.

Kent. I cannot conceive you.

Glou. Sir, this young Fellowes mother could; where-
upon the grew round womb'd, and had indeed (Sir) a
Sonne for her Cradle, ere she had a husband for her bed.
Doe you smell a fault?

Kent. I cannot with the fault undone, the iffue of it
being so proper.

Glou. But I have a Sonne, Sir, by order of Law, some
yeere elder than this; who, yet is no dearer in my ac-
count, though this Knave came something fawcily to the
world before he was sent for; yet was his Mother faire,
there was good sport at his making, and the whorfon
muft be acknowledged. Doe you know this Nobleman,
Edmond?

Edm. No, my Lord.

Glou. My Lord of Kent :

Remember him hereafter, as my honourable Friend.

Edm. My ſervices to your Lordship.

Kent. I muſt love you, and die to know you better.

Edm. Sir, I shall ſtudy deferving.

Glou. He hath been out nine yeares, and away he ſhall
againe. The King is comming.

Sennet, Enter King Lear, Cornwall, Albany, Gonerill, Regan, Cordelia, and attendants.

Lear. Attend the Lords of France & Burgundy, Gloster

Glou. I shall my Lord.

Exit.

Lear. Meane time we shall expreſſe our darker purpofe.

Give me the Map there. Know that we have divided
In three, our Kingdome: and 'tis our faſt intent.
To ſhake all cares and buſineſſe from our Age,
Conferring them on yonger ſtrengths, while we
Vnburthen'd crawle toward death. Our ſon of Cornwall,
And you our no leſſe loving Sonne of Albany,

We have this hour a conſtant will to publish
Our Daughters ſeverall Dowers, that future ſtrife

May be prevet'd now. The Princes, France, & Burgundy,

Great Rivals in our yonger daughters love,

Long in our Court, have made their amorous ſojourne,

And here are to be anſwer'd. Tell me my daughters

(Since now we will divest us both of Rule,

Interleft of Territory, Cares of State)

Which of you ſhall we ſay doth love us moſt,

That we, our largeſt bounty may extend

Where nature doth with merit challenge, Gonerill,

Our eldeſt borne, ſpeake firſt.

Gon. Sir, I love you more than word can weild the

Dearer than eye-fight, ſpace, and liberty,

(matter,

Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare,

No leſſe than life, with grace, health, beauty, honor :

As much as childe ere Iov'd, or Father found.

A love that makes breath poore, and ſpeech unable,

Beyond all manner of moſt I love you.

Cor. What ſhall Cordelia ſpeake ? Love, and be ſilent.

Lear. Of all the ſe bounds even from this Line, to this,

With ſhadowy Forreſts, and with Champions rich'd

With plenteous Rivers, and wide-skirted Meadows

We make thee Lady. To thine and Albanies iffues

Be this perpetuall. What fayes our ſecond Daughter,

Our deareſt Regan, wife of Cornwall?

Reg. I am made of that leſſe-mettle as my ſifter,

And prize me at her worth. In my true heart,

I finde the names my very deed of love :

Only the comes too ſhort, that I proſeſſe

My leſſe an enemy to all other joyes,

Which the moſt precious ſquare of leſſe proſeſſes,

And finde I am alone felicitate

In your deere Highneſſe love.

Cor. Then poore Cordelia,

And yet not ſo, ſince I am ſure my love's

More ponderous than my tongue.

Lear. To thee, and thine hereditary ever,

Remaine this ample third of our faire Kingdome,

No leſſe in ſpace, validity, and pleafure

Than that conferr'd on Gonerill. Now our Ioy,

Although our laſt and leaſt; to whoſe yong love,

The Vines of France, and Milke of Burgundy,

Strive to be intereſt. What can you ſay, to draw

A third, more opulent then your Sifters ? ſpeake.

Cor. Nothing my Lord.

Lear. Nothing ?

Cor.

The Tragedy of King Lear.

304

Cor. Nothing.
Lear. Nothing will come of nothing, I speake againe.
Corn. Vohappy that I am, I cannot heave
My heart into my mouth: I love your Majestie
According to my bond, no more nor leffe.
Lear. How, how Cordelia? Mend your speech a little,
Left you may marre your fortunes.
Cor. Good my Lord,
You have begot me, bred me, lov'd me.
I returne those duties backe as are right fit,
Obey you, Love you, and moft honour you.
Why have my Sifters husbands, if they lay
They love you all? happily when I shall wed.
That Lord, whose hand muft take my plight, shall carry
Halfe my love with him, halfe my Care, and Duty,
Sure I shall never marry like my Sifters.

Lear. But goes thy heart with this?

Cor. I my good Lord.

Lear. So young, and so untender ?

Cor. So young my Lord, and true.

Lear. Let it be so, thy truth then be thy dowre :
For by the sacred radience of the Sunne,
The myleries of Hecat and the night :
By all the operations of the Orbes,
From whom we doe exift, and ceafe to be,
Heere I disclaine all my Paternall care,
Propinquity and property of blood,
And as a ftranger to my heart and me,
Hold thee from this for ever. The barbarous Scythian,
Or he that makes his generation meffes
To gorge his appetite, shall to my boſome
Be as well neighbour'd, pittied, and reliv'd,
As thou my fometime Daughter.

Kent. Good my Liege.

Lear. Peace Kent.

Come not betweene the Dragon and his wrath,
I lov'd her moſt, and thought to fet my reſt
On her kind nurſery. Hence and avoyd my fight;
So be my grave my peace, as here I give
Her fathers heart from her; call France, who ſtirres?
Call Burgundy, Cornwall, and Albany.

With my two Daughters, Dowres, digeſt the third,
Let pride, which the calls plainneſſe, marry her :
I doe inveſt you jontly with my power,
Preheminence, and all the large effects
That t roope with Majefty. Our ſelfe by Monthly course,
With reſervation of an hundred Knights,
By you to be ſuſtain'd, ſhaliour abode
Make with you by due turne, onely we ſhall retaine
The name, and all th' addition to a King : the Sway,
Revenuè, Execution of the reſt,
Beloved Sonnes be yours, which to confirme,
This Coronet part betwene you.

Kent. Royall Lear,

Whom I have ever honor'd as my King,
Lov'd as my Father, as my Maſter follow'd,
As my Patron thought on in my priaiers.

Lear. The bow is bent and drawne, make from the ſhaft.

Kent. Let it fall rather, though the forke invade
The region of my heart, be Kent unmannerly,
When Lear is mad, what wouldest thou doe old man?
Thinkst thou that daty ſhall have dread to ſpeak
When power to flattery bowes ?
To plainneſſe honour's bound,
When Majefly falls to folly, reſerve thy ſtate,
And in thy beſt confideration checke

This hideous rafhneſſe, anſwer my life, my judgements:
Thy yongeft Daughter, do's not love thee leaſt.
Nor are those emty hearted, whose low ſounds
Reverbe no hollowneſſe.

Lear. Kent, on thy life no more.

King. My life I never held but as a pawne
To wage againſt thine enemies, here feare to loſe it,
Thy safety being morive.

Lear. Out of my fight.

Kent. See better Lear, and let me ſtill remaine
The true blanke of thine eye.

Lear. Now by Apollo.

Kent. Now by Apollo, King
Thou ſwear't thy gods in vaine.

Lear. O Vaffell ! Mifcreant.

Alb. Cor. Deare Sir, forbeare.

Kent. Kill thy Phyſitian, and thy fee beſlow
Vpon the foule diſcaſe, revoke thy gift,
Or whilſt I can vent clamour from my throat,
Ile tell thee thou doſt evill.

Lear. Heare me recrant, on thine allegiance heare me;
That thou haſt thought to make us breake our vowes,
Which we durſe never yet; and with ſtrain'd pride,
To come betwixt our ſentence, and our power.
Which, nor our nature, nor our place can beare;
Our potency made good, take thy reward.
Five dayes we doe allot thee for provision,
To ſhield thee from diſaſtlers of the world,
And on the fixt to turne thy hated backe
Vpon our Kingdome; if the tenth day following,
Thy baniſt trunke be found in our Dominions,
The moment is thy death, away. By Iupiter,
This shall not be revok'd.

Kent. Fare thee well King, ſith thus thou wilt appeare,
Freedome lives hence, and baniſhment is here;
The godsto their deare ſhelter take thee Maid,
That juſtly think't, and haſt moſt rightly ſaid :
And your large ſpeeches, may your deeds approve,
That good effects may ſpring from words of love:
Thus Kent, O Princes, bids you all adieus,
Hee'le shape his old course in a Coursety new.

Enter Glofter with France, and Burgundy
Attendants.

Cor. Here's France and Burgundy, my Noble Lord.

Lear. My Lord of Burgundy,

We firſt addreſſe toward you, who with this King
Hath rivaſt for our Daughter; what in the leaſt
Will you require in prefent Dower with her,
Or ceaſe your queſt of Love?

Bur. Moſt Royall Majeſtie,
I crave no more than hath your Highneſſe offer'd,
Nor will you tender leſſe ?

Lear. Right Noble Burgundy,

When ſhe was deare to us, we held her ſo,
But now her price is fallen : Sir, there ſhe ſlands,
If ought within that little ſeeming ſubſtance,
Or all of it with our diſpleasure piec'd,
And nothing more may fityl like your Grace.
Shee's there, and ſhe is yours.

Bur. I know no anſwer.

Lear. Will you with those infirmities ſhe owes,
Unſtriended, new adopted to our hate,
Dow'd with our curſe, and ſtranger'd with our oath.
Take her, or leave her.

Bur. Par-

The Tragedy of King Lear.

305

Bar. Pardon me Royall Sir,
Election makes not up in such conditions.
Lear. Then leave her fir, for the powre that made

I tell you all her wealth. For you great King,
I would not from your love make such a fray,
To match you where I hate, therefore befeech you
Tavert your liking a more worthier way,
Then on a wretch whom Nature is afham'd
Almoft t'acknowledge hers.
Fra. This is moft ftrange,

That the who even but now, was your beſt objeſt,
The argument of your praife, balme of your age,
The beſt, the deeret, ſhould in this trice of time
Commit a thing to monſtrons, to diſmantle
Somany folds of favour: ſure her offence
Mutt be of ſuch unnaturall degree,
That monſters it: Or your fore-voicht affection
Fall into taint; which to beleeve of her
Mutt be a faith that rafon without miracle
Should never plant in me.
Cor. I yet beſeech your Majety,

If for I want that glib and oylye Art,
Toſpeake and purpofe not, ſince w hat I will intend,
Ile do't before I ſpeake, that you make knowne
It is no vicious blot, murther, or ſoulneſſe,
Nounchafle action or diſhonoured ſlep
That hath depriv'd me of your Grace and favour,
But even for want of that, for which I am richer,
A full ſoliciting eye, and ſuch a tongue,
That I am glad I have not, though not to have it,
Hath loſt me in your liking.
Lear. Better thou hadſt,

Not beene borne, then not t'have pleas'd me better,
Fra. Is it but this ? A tardiſneſſe in nature,
Which often leaves the hiftory unſpoke
That it intends to doe; my Lord of Burgundy,
What ſay you to the Lady ? Love's not love
When it is mingled with regards, that itands
Aloofe from th'intirent point, will you have her ?
She is herſelfe a Dowry.
Bur. Royall King,

Give but that portion which your ſelie propos'd,
And here I take Cordelia by the hand,
Dutcheſſe of Burgundy.
Lear. Nothing, I have ſworne, I am firme.
Bur. I am forry then you have ſo loſt a Father.
That you muſt loſe a husband.

Cor. Peace be with Burgundy,
Since that reſpect and fortunes are his love,
I haſt not be his wife.
Fra. A faireſt Cordelia, that art moſt rich being poore,
Moft choile forſaken, and moſt lov'd deſpis'd,
Thee and thy vertues here I ſeize upon,
Be it law full I take up whates caſt away,
Gods, gods ! This ſtrange, that from their cold'ſt negleſt
My love should kindle to enflam'd reſpect.
Thy dowreſſe Daugherc, King, throwne to my chance,
Is Queene of us, of ours, and our faire France :

Not all the Dukes of watrīſh Burgundy,
Can buy this unpriz'd precious Maid of me,
Bid them farewell Cordelia, though unkind,
Thou loofeſt here a better where to find.

Lear. Thou haſt her France, let her be thine, for we
Have no ſuch Daugher, nor ſhall ever ſee
That face of hers againe, therefore be gone,
Without our Grace, our Love, our Benizon :

Come Noble Burgundy. Flourish.
Flourish.
Exeunt.

Fra. Bid farewell to your Sifters.
Cor. The lewels of our father, with wath'd eyes

Cordelia leaves you, I know you what you are,
And like a Sifter am moſt loth to call
Your faults as they are named. Love well our father :
To your proſeſſed boſomes I commit him,
But yet alas, flood I within his Grace,
I would perfer him to a better place,
So farewell to you both.
Reg. Preferibe not us our duty.

Gon. Let your fluddy

Be to coutent your Lord, who hath receiv'd you,
At fortunes almes, you have obedience ſcanted,
And well are worth the want that you have wanted.

Cor. Time ſhall unfold what plighted cunning hides,
Who covers faults, at laſt with ſhame derides.

Well may you proſper.

Fra. Come my faire Cordelia, Exit France and Cor.

Gon. Sifter, it is not little I have to ſay,

Of what moſt neerely appertaines to us both,
I thinke our father will hence to night.
(With us.

Reg. That's moſt certaine, and with you : next moneth

Gon. You fee how full of changes his age is, the ob-
fervation we have made of it, hath beene little: he always
lov'd out Sifter moſt, and with what poore judgement he
hath now caſt her off, appears too too groſely.

Reg. Tis the infirmity of his age, yet he hath ever but
flenderly knowne himselfe.

Gon. The beſt and foundeſt of his time hath beene but
raſh, then muſt we looke from his age, to receive not a-
lone the imperfections of long ingraſſed condition, but
therewithall the unruly way-wardneſſe, that inſirme and
cholecricke yeeres bring with them.

Reg. Such inconſtant flarts are we like to have from
him, as this of Kents banifhment.

Gon. There is further complement of leave-taking be-
tweene France and him, pray you let us fit together, if our
father carry authority with ſuch diſpoſition as he beares
this laſt furrender of his will but oftend us.

Reg: We ſhall further thinke of it,

Gon. We muſt doe ſomething, and i'th'heate. Exeunt.

## Scena Secunda.

Enter Baſtard.

Baſt. Thou Nature art my Goddeſſe, to thy Law
My ſervices are bound, wherefore should I
Stand in the plague of cuſtome, and permit
The curioſity of Nations, to deprive me ?

For that I am ſome twelve, or fourteene Moonſhines
Lag of a brother ? Why Baſtard ? Wherefore bafe ?

When my Dimenſions are as well compact,
My mind as generous, and my ſhape as true
As honeft Madam ſiue ? Why brand they us
With Bafe ? With bafe neſſe Baſtardy ? Bafe, Bafe ?

Who in the luyſe ſtealth of Nature, take
More composition, and ſierce quality,
Then doth within a dull ſale ſtyred bed

Goe to th'creating a whole tribe of Fops
Got t'weene a ſleepe, and wake ? Well then,

Legitimate Edgar, I muſt have your land,
Our fathers love, is to the Baſtard Edmund,

As to th'legitimate: fine word : Legitimate.

ff

Well

306

The Tragedy of King Lear.

Well, my Legittimate, if this Letter Iced,
And my invention thrive, Edmund the bafe
Shall to'th'Legitimate: I grow, I prof per:
Now gods, Istand up for Baftards.

*Enter Gloucester.*

Glo. Kent banifh'd thus? and France in choller parted?
And the King gone to night? Prefcrib'd his power,
Confin'd to exhibition? All this gone
Vpon the gad? Edmund, how now? What newes?
Baſt.

So please your Lordship, none.

Glon. We lo earneſtly feeke you to put up that Let-
Baſt. I know no newes, my Lord. (ter?

Glon. What Paper were you reading ?

Baſt. Nothing my Lord.

Glon. No? what needed then that terrible dispatch of
it into your Pocket? The quality of nothing, hath not
fuch neede to hide it ſelſe. Lets fee: come, if it be no-
thing, I ſhall not need Spectacles.

Baſt. I beſeeth you Sir, pardon me; it is a Letter from
my Brother, that I have not all ore-read; and for ſo much
as I have perus'd, I find it not fit for your ore-looking.

Glon. Give me the Letter, Sir,

Baſt. I ſhall offend, either to detaine, or give it:
The Contents, as in part I underſtand them,
Are too blame.

Glon. Lets fee, lets fee.

Baſt. I hope for my brothers juſtification, he wrote
this but as an cflay, or taſte of my Vertue.

Glon reads. This policy, and reverence of Age, makes the
world a better to beſt of our times: keepes our Fortunes from us,
till our oldneſſe cannot reliſh them. I begin to find an idle and
fond bandage, in the oppreſſion of aged tyranny, who wayes not
as it bath power, but as it is ſuffer'd. Come to me, that of this
I may ſpeake more. If our Father would sleepe till I wak'd him,
you ſhould enjoy halde his Revennew for ever, and live the beſo-
ved of your brother. Edgar.

Hum? Conſpiracy? Sleepe till I wake him, you ſhould
enjoy halde his Revennew: my Sonne Edgar, had he a
hand to write this? A heart and braine to breede it in?
When came you to this? Who brought it?

Baſt. It was not brought me, my Lord; there's the
cunning of it. I found it throwne in at the Cafement of
my Cloſſet.

Glon. You know the character to be your Brothers ?

Baſt. If the matter were good my Lord, I durſt ſware
it were his: but in reſpect of that, I would faine thinke it
were not.

Glon. It is his.

Baſt. It is his hand, my Lord: I hope his heart is not
in the Contents.

Glo. Has he never before founded you in this buſineſſe?

Baſt. Never my Lord. But I have heard him oft main-
taine it to beſt, that Sonnes at perfect age, and Fathers
declind, the Father ſhould be as Ward to the Son, and
the Sonne manage his Revennew.

Glon. O Villaine, villaine: his very opinion in the Let-
ter. Abhorred Villaine, unnaturall, deteſed, brutiſh
Villaine; worſe then brutiſh: Goe firrah, feeke him: Ile
apprehend him. Abhominable Villaine, where is he?

Baſt. I do not well know my L. if it ſhall pleafe you
to ſuppend your indignation againſt my brother, till you
can derive from him better teſtimony of his intent, you
ſhould run a certaine courſe: where, if you violently pro-
ceed againſt him, miſtaking his purpofe, it would make a
great gap in your honor, and ſhake in peeces, the heart of

his obedience. I dare pawne downe my life for him, that
he hath writ this to ſecke my affection to your honor, and
to no other pretence of danger.

Glon. Thinke you ſo?

Baſt. If your honor judge it meete, I will place you
where you ſhall heare us conferre of this, and by an Auri-
cular affluance have your ſatifaſſation, and that without
any further delay, then this very Evening.

Glon. He cannot be ſuch a Monſter. Edmund feeke him
out: winde me into him, I pray you: frame the Buſineſſe
after your oſowe wifedome. I would unſtate my ſelſe, to
be in a due ſeolution.

Baſt. I will feeke him Sir, preſently: convey the buſi-
neſſe as I ſhall find meaneſ, and acquaint you withall.

Glon. Theſe late Elipſes in the Sun and Moone por-
tend no good to us: though the wifedome of Nature can
reſaon it thus, and thus, yet Nature finds it ſelſe ſoourg'd
by the ſequent effects. Love coolyes, friendſhip falls off,
brothers divide. In Cities, mutinies; in Countries, diſ-
cord: in Palaces, Treaſon; and the Bond crack'd, twixt
Sonne and Father. This villaine of mine comes under the
prediſation: thereſ Son againſt Father, the King ſals from
by as of Nature, thereſ father againſt Child. We have
ſeele the beſt of our time. Machinations, hollowneſſe,
treachery, and all ruinous diſorders follow us diſquity
to our Graves, Find out this Villaine. Edmund, it ſhall loſe
the nothing, doe it carefully: and the Noble and true har-
ted Kent banifh'd; his offence, honeſty. Tis ſtrange. Exit.

Baſt. This is the excellent ſopperie of the world, that
when we are ſick in fortune, often the ſurſets of our oſowe
behaviour, we make guilty of our diſaſteſers, the Sun, the
Moone, and Starres, as if we were villaines on necellity,
Fooles by heavenly compulſion, Knaves, Theeves, and
Treacherers by Sphæreall predominance. Drunkards, Ly-
ars, and Adulterers by an inſorc'd obedience of Planetary
influence; and all that we are evill in, by a divine thru-
ſting on. An admirable evaſion of Whore-mafter-man,
to lay his Goatiſh diſpoſition on the charge of a Starre,
My father compounded with my mother under the Dra-
gons taile, and my Nativity was under Vrfa Maior, ſo
that it ſollowes, I am rough and Leacherous. I ſhould
have bin that I am, had the maidenleft Starre in the Fir-
mament twinkled on my baſtardizing.

*Enter Edgar.*

Pat: he comes like the Cataſtrophe of the old Comedie:
my Cue is villanous Melancholly, with a ſigh like Tom
o'Bedlam. — O theſe Eclipſes do portend theſe divi-
fions. &c. Fa, Sol, La, Mc.

Edg. How now brother Edmund, what ſerious con-
templation are you in?

Baſt. I am thinking brother of a prediction I read this
other day, what ſhould follow theſe Elipſes.

Edg. Doe you buſe your ſelſe with that?

Baſt. I promife, the effects he writes of, ſucceede un-
happily.

When faw you my Father laſt?

Edg. The night gone by.

Baſt. Spake you with him?

Edg. I, two hours together.

Baſt. Parted you in good tearmes? Found you no di-
pleaſure in him, by word, nor countenance?

Edg. None at all.

Baſt. Bethinke your ſelſe wherein you may have offen-
ded him: and at my entreaty forbeare his prefence, untill
fome little time hath qualified the heat of his diſpleaſure,
which at this inflant ſo rageth in him, that with the mi-
chione

chione of your
Edg. Some. That
forbearance
I lay, retire
fely bring
there's my ke
Edg. Arm
Edm. Bro
man, if ther
told you what
thing like th
Edg. Sha
Edm. I do
A Credulous
Whohe natu-
That he ſu
My practices
Letme, if no
All with me

Gen. Did
of his ſoſe ?
Stew. I M
Gen. By d
He ſlaſhes in
That fet us u
His Knights
On every tri
I will not ſp
If you come
You shall do
Stew. He
Gen. Put c
You and you
If he diſaſte
Whole min
Remember
Stew. W
Gen. And
you: what g
to, Ile write
pare for din

Kent, If
That can m
May carry
For which
If you can
So may it c
Shall find th

The Tragedy of King Lear.

307

chiefes of your person, it would fearfely alay.

Ed. Some Villaine hath done me wrong.

Edm. That's my feare, I pray you have a continent
forbearance till the speed of his rage goes flower : and as
I lay, retire with me to my lodging, from whence I will
faily bring you to heare my Lord fpeake : pray ye goe,
there's my key : if you doe ftreir abroad, goe arm'd.

Ed. Arm'd, Brother ?

Edm. Brother, I advife you to the beft, I am no honeſt
man, if there be any good meaning toward you : I have
told you what I have ſene, and heard : But faintly. No-
thing like the image, and horror of it, pray you away.

Eda. Shall I heare from you anon ?

Exei.

Edm. I doe ſerve you in this buſineſſe :
A Credulous Father, and a Brother Noble,
Whole nature is ſo farre from doing harmes,
That he ſuſpects none : on whole fooliſh honeſty

My practiſes ride eafe : I fee the buſineſſe.

Let me, if not by birth, have lands by wit,
All with me's meete, that I can fashion fit.

Exit.

## Scena Tertia.

Enter Gonerill, and Steward.

Gon. Did my father ſtrike my Gentleman for chiding
of his foole ?

Stew. I Madam.

Gon. By day and night, he wronges me, every howre
He flathes into one groſſe crime, or other.

That lets us all at ods : Ile not endure it ;

His Knights grow riotons, and himſelfe upbraides us

On every trifle. When he returns from hunting.

I will not ſpeake with him, ſay I am ſicke,

If you come flacke of former ſervices

You shall doe well, the fault of it Ile anſwer.

Stew. Hes comming Madam, I heare him.

Gon. Put on what weary negligence you pleafe.

You and your Fellowes : I'de have it come to queſtion;
If he diſlaſte it, let him to my Sifter.

Whole mind and mine I know in that are one,

Remember what I have laid.

Stew. Well Madam.

Gon. And let his Knights have colder lookses among
you: what growes of it no matter, advife your ſellowes
ſo, Ile write ſtraight to my Sifter to hold my course: pre-
pare for dinner.

Exeunt.

## Scena Quarta.

Enter Kent.

Kent. If but as well I other accents borrows,
That can my ſpeech deſuſe, my good intent
May carry through it ſelſe to that full ilſue
For which I raiz'd my likeneſſe. Now banifht Kent,
If thou canſt ſerve where thou doſt ſtand condemn'd,
So may it come, thy Maſter whom thou lov'st in
Shall find thee full of labours.

Hornes within. Enter Lear and Attendants.

Lear. Let me not flay a jot for dinner, goe get it rea-
dy : how now, what art thou ?

Kent. A man Sir.

Lear. What doſt thou proſeſſe ? What wouldſt thou with us ?

Kent. I doe proſeſſe to be no leſſe then I ſee ; to
ſerve him truely that will put me in truſt, to love him
that is honeſt, to converſe with him that is wife and ſayes
little, to ſeare judgement, to fight when I cannot chooſe,
and to eate no fifth.

Lear. What are thou ?

Kent. A very honeſt hearted Fellow, and as poore as the King.

Lear. If thou beſt as poore for a ſubjeſt, as he's for a
King, thou art poore enough. What wouldſt thou ?

Kent. Service.

Lear. Whom wouldſt thou ſerve ?

Kent. You.

Lear. Do it thou know-me fellow ?

Kent. No Sir, but you have that in your countenance,
which I would fairen call Maſter.

Lear. What's that?

Kent. Authority.

Lear. What ſervices canſt thou doe ?

Kent. I can keepe honeſt counſailes, ride, run, marrea
curious tale in telling it, and deliver a plaine meſſage
bluntly : that which ordinary men are fit for, I am qua-
lified in, and the beſt of me, is Diligence.

Lear. How old art thou ?

Kent. Not ſo young Sir to love a woman for ſinging,
nor ſo old to dote on her for any thing. I have yeares on
my backe forty eight.

Lear. Follow me, that ſhalt ſerve me, if I like thee no
worse after dinner, I will not part from thee yet. Dinner
ho, dinner, wheres my knave? my foole? goe you and call
my foole hither. You you Sirrab, wheres my Daughter?

Enter Steward.

Stew. So pleafe you—

Exit.

Lear. What ſayes the fellow there ? Call the Clot-
pole backe : wheres my Foole ? Ho, I thinke the worlds
aſſelee, how now ? Wheres that Mungrell?

Knighb. He faies my Lord, your Daughters is not well.

Lear. Why came not the flavebacke to mee when I
call'd him ?

Knighb. Sir, he anſWERED me in the roundeſt manner, he
would not.

Lear. He would not ?

Knighb. My Lord, I know not what the matter is, but
to my judgement your highneſſe is not entertain'd with
that Ceremonious affection as you were, wont, thereſa
great abatement of kindneſſe appears as well in the ge-
nerall dependants, as in the Duke himſelfe alſo, and your
Daughter.

Lear. Ha? Saife thou ſo ?

Knighb. I beſeech you pardon me my Lord, if I bee
miſtake, for my duty cannot be ſilent, when I thinke
your highneſſe wrong'd,

Lear. Thou but remembreſt me of mine owne Concep-
ception, I have perceived a moſt faint neglect of late,
which I have rather blamed as mine owne icalous curio-
sity, then as a very pretence and purpofe of unkindneſſe;
I will looke further into't : but wheres my Foole ? I
have not ſcene him this two dayes.

Knighb. Since my young Ladies going into France

ff 2

Sir,

308

The Tragedy of King Lear.

Sir, the fooeie hath much pined away.

Lear. No more of that, I have noted it well, goe you and tell my Daughter, I would fpeake with her. Goe you call hither my Foole ; Oh you Sir, you, come yon hither Sir, who am I Sir.

Enter Steward.

Stew. My Ladies Father.

Lear. My Ladies Father ? my Lords knave, you who-
son dog, you flave, you curre.

Stew. I am none of these my Lord,
I befeech your pardon.

Lear. Doe you bandy looks with me, you Rascall ?

Stew. Ile not be ftrucken my Lord.

Kent. Nor tript neither, you bafe Foot-ball player.

Lear. I thanke thee fellow.

Thou ferv'ft me, and Ile love thee.

Kent. Come fir, arife, away, Ile teach you differences: away, away, if you will measure your lubbers length a-gaine, tarry, but away, goe to, have you wifedome, fo.

Lear. Now my friendly knave I thanke thee, theres earneft of thy ſervice.

Enter Foole.

Foole. Let me hire him too, heres my Coxcombe.

Lear. How now my pretty knave, how doft thou ?

Foole. Sirrah, you were beſt take my Coxcombe.

Lear. Why my Boy ?

Foole: Why ? for taking ones part that's out of favour ; nay, and thou canſt not ſmile as the wind fits, thou'le catch cold ſhortly, there take my Coxcombe ; why this fellow has banifh'd two on's daughters, and did the third a bleſſing againſt his will; if thou follow him, thou muſt needes weare my Coxcomb. How now Nunckle? would I had two Coxcombes and two Daughters.

Lear. Why my Boy ?

Feel. If I gave them all my living, Ild keepe my Cox-
combe my ſelfe, thers mine, beg another of thy Daugh-
ters.

Lear. Take heed Sirrah, the whip.

Foole. Truths a dog muſt to kennell, he muſt bee
whipt out, when the Lady Brach may ſtand by't fire and
flinke.

Lear. A peſtilent gall to me.

Fool. Sirha, Ile teach thee a ſpeech.

Lear. Doe.

Foole. Marke it Nuncle;
Have more then thou ſhoweſt,
Speake leſſe then thou knoweſt,
Lend leſſe then thou oweſt,
Ride more then thou goeſt,
Learne more then thou troweſt,
Set leſſe then thou throweſt :
Leave thy drinke and thy whore.

And keepe in a dore,
And thou ſhalt have more,
These two tens to a ſcore.

Kent. This is nothing foole.

Foole. Then tis like the breath of an unfeed Lawyer,
you gave me nothing for't, can you make no uſe of nothing
Nuncle?

Lear. Why no Boy,

Nothing can be made out of nothing.

Foole: Prethe tell him, so much the rent of his land
comesto, he will not beleeve a Foole.

Lear. A bitter Foole.

Foole. Doſt thou know the difference my Boy, be-
tweene a bitter Foole, and a sweet one.

Lear. No Lad; teach me.

Foole. Nunckle, give me an egge, and Ile give thee
two Crownes.

Lear. What two Crownes shall they be?

Fool. Why after I have cut the egge ith'middle and
eate up the meate, the two Crownes of the egge, when
thou cloveſt thy Crowne ith'middle, and gav'ft away
both parts, thou boar'ſt thine Aſſe on thy backe o're the
dart, thou had'ſt little wit in thy bald crowne, when thou
gav'ſt thy golden one away: if I ſpeake like my ſelfe in
this, let him be whipt that firſt findes it ſo.

Fooles had nere leſſe grace in a yeere,

For wifemen are growne foppiſh,
And know not how their wits to weare,
Their manners are fo apiſh.

Lea. When were you want to be ſo full of ſongs firra?

Fool. I have uſed it Nunckle, ere ſince thou mad'ſt thy Daughters thy Mothers, for when thou gav'ſt them the rod, and putſt downe thy owne breeches, then they.

For ſoudaine joy did weepe,

And I for forrow ſung,
That ſuch a King should play bo-peepe,
And goe the Foole among.

Prethy Nunckle kceep a Schoolemaſter that can teach thy
Foole to lye, I would faire leane to lye.

Lear. And you lye firrah, we'll have you whipt.

Foole. I marvell what kin thou and thy daughters are,
they'l have me whipt for ſpeaking true : thou'lt have me
whipt for lying, and ſometimes I am whipt for holding
my peace. I had rather be any kind o'thing then a foole,
and yet I would not be thee Nunckle, thou haſt pared thy
wit o'both ſides, and left nothing ith'middle ; heare
comes one o'the parings.

Enter Gonerill.

Lear. How now Daughter ? what makes that Frontlet
on ? You are too much of late ith'frowne.

Foole. Thou waſt a pretty fellow when thou hadſt no
need to care for her frowning, now thou art an O with-
out a figure, I am better then thou art now, I am a foole,
thou art nothing. Yes forfooth I will hold my tongue, ſo
your face bids me, though you ſay nothing.

Mum, mum, he that keepeſ nor cruſt, nor crum,
Weary of all, ſhall want ſome. That's a ſheal'd Pecod.

Gon. Not onely Sir this, your all-lycenc'd Foole,
But other of your inſolent reine
Doe hourly Carpe and Quarrell, breaking forth
In ranke, and not to be endured) riots Sir.
I had thought by making this well kne wne unto you
To have found a ſafe redreſſe, but now grow ſcarefull
By what your ſelfe too late have ſpoke and done,
That you protecſ this courſe, and put it on
By your allowance, which if you should, the fault
Would not ſcapc cenſure, nor the redreſſes ſleep,
Which in the tender of a whole ſonſe weale,
Might in their working doe you that offence,
Which eſſe were flame, that then neceſſity
Will call diſcreſt proceeding.

Foole. For you know Nunckle, the Hedge-Sparrow
fed the Cuckoo ſo long, that it had its head bit off by it
young, ſo out went the Candle, and we were left dark-
ling.

Lear. Are you your Daughter ? (dome

Gon. I would you would make uſe of your good wife-
(Whereof I know you are ſraught) and put away
These diſpositions, which of late tranſport you
From what you rightly are.

Foole.

The Tragedy of King Lear.

309

Foole. May not an Aſſe know, when the Cart drawes
the Horſe?

Whoop Juggc I love thee.

Lear. Dos any heree know me?

This is not Lear :

Do's Lear walke thus? Speake thus? Where are his eyes?

Either his Notion weakens, his Difcernings
Are Lethargied. Ha ! Waking ? Tis not so ?

Who is it that can tell me who I am ?

Foole. Lears shadow.

Lear. Your name, faire Gentlewoman ?

Gon. This admiration Sir, is much other favour
Of other your new prankes. I doe beſeech you

To underſtand my purpoſes aright :

As you are Old, and Reverend, ſhould be Wifc.
Heere doe you keepe a hundred Knights and Squires,
Men ſo diſorder'd, ſo deboth'd, and bold,

That this our Court inſected, with their manners,
Shewes like a riotous Inne ; Epicurifme and Luft
Makes it more like a Tavner, or a Brothell,

Then a grac'd Pallace. The ſhame it ſelſe doth ſpeake
For instant remedy. Be then diſe'd

By her, that ſelſe will take the thing ſhe begges,
A little to diſquantity your Traine,
And the remainders that ſhall ſill depend,
To be ſuch men as may beſort your Age,
Which know themſelves, and you.

Lear. Darkenſe, and Divels,

Saddle my horſes : call my Traine together.
Degenerate Baſtard, Ile not trouble thee ;

Yet have I left a daughter.

Gon. You ſtrike my people, and your diſorder'd rable,
make Servants of their Betters.

Enter Albany.

Lear. Woe, that too late reperſes :

Is it your will, ſpeake Sir ? Prepare my Horſes,

Ingratitude ! thou Marble-hearted Fiend,

More hideous when thou ſhew'd'th thee in a Child ;]
Then the Sea-monſter.

Alb. Pray Sir be patient.

Lear. Detefted Kite, thou lyeſt.

My Traine are men of choyce, and rareſt parts,

That all particulars of duty know,

And in the moſt exact regard, ſupport

The worſhips of their name. O moſt ſmall fault,
How ugly diſdſt thou in Cordelia ſhew ?

Which like an Engine, wrenct my frame of Nature
From the fixt place : drew from my heart all love,
And added to the gall. O Lear, Lear, Lear!

Beate at this gate that let thy Folly in,

And thy deere Indgement out. Goe, goe, my people.

Alb. My Lord, I am guilſtſleſe, as I am ignorant
Of what hath moved you.

Lear. It may be ſo, my Lord,

Heare Nature, heare deere Goddeſſe, heare :

Sulſend thy purpoſe, if thou diſdſt intend

To make this Creature fruitfull :

Into her Wombe convey ſterility,
Dry up in her the Organs of increaſe,

And from her derogate body, never ſpring
A Babe to honor her. If ſhe muſt teeme,
Create her child of SpLEene, that it may live
And be a thwart diſnatur'd torment to her.

Let it ſtampe wrinkles in her brow of youth,
With cadent Teares fret Channels in her cheekes,

Turne all her Mothers paines, and benefits

To laughter, and contempt: That ſhe may ſeelſe,
How ſharper than a Serpents tooth it is,

To have a thankeleſſe Childe. Away, away.

Alb. Now Gods that we adore.

Whereof comes this?

Gon. Never afflict your ſelſe to know of it:

But let his diſpoſition have that ſcope
As dotage gives it.

Exit.

Enter Lear.

Lear. What fifty of my followers at a clap ?

Within a fortnight?

Alb. What's the matter, Sir ?

Lear. Ile tell thee :

Life and death, I am aſham'd

That thou haſt power to ſhake my manhood thus,

That theſe hot teares, which breake from me perſorce

Should make thee worth them,

Blatts and Fogges upon thee :

Th'untented woundings of a Fathers curſe

Pierree every ſenſe about thee. Old fond eyes,

Bewepe thee once againe, Ile plucke ye out,

And caſt you with the waters that you looſe

To temper Clay. Ha ? Let it be ſo.

I have another daughter,

Who I am ſure is kinde and comfortable :

When the ſhall heare this of thee, with her nailes
Shee'l flea thy Wolvifh viſage. Thou ſhalt finde ;

That Ile resume the ſhape which thou doſt thinke
I have caſt off for ever.

Gon. Doe you marke that ?

Alb. I cannot be ſo partiall Gonerill,

To the great love I beare you.

Gon. Pray you content. What Oſwald hoa?

You Sir, more Knave then Foole, after your Maſter.

Foole. Nunkle Lear, Nunkle Lear,

Tarry, take the Foole with thee :

A Fox, when one has caught her,

And ſuch a daughter,

Should ſure to the ſlaughter,

If my Cap would by a Halter,

So the Foole followes after.

Exit.

Gon. This man hath had good counſell,
A hundred Knights ?

Tis politike, and ſafe to let him keepe

At point a hundred Knights : yes, that on every dreame,

Each buz, each ſancy, each complaint, diſlike,

He may enguard his dotage with their powres,

And hold our lives in mercy. Oſwald, I lay.

Alb. Well, you may ſeare too farre.

Gon. Safer then truſt too farre ;

Let me ſtill take away the harmes I ſeare,
Not ſeare ſtill to be taken. I know his heart,
What he hath utter'd, I have writ my ſifter :

If ſhe ſuſtaine him, and his hundred Knights

When I have ſhew'd th' unſitneſſe.

Enter Steward.

How now Oſwald ?

What have you writ that letter to my Sifter ?

Stew. I Madam.

Gon. Take you ſome company, and away to horſe,
Informe her full of my particular ſcare,
And thereto adde ſuch reaſons of your owne,

As may compact it more. Get you gone,

ff 3

And

310

The Tragedy of King Lear.

And haften your returne; no, no, my Lord,
This milky gentlenesse, and courte of yours
Though I condemne not, yet under pardon
You are much more at taske for want of wifedome,
Then prais'd for harmefull mildenffe.

Alb. How farre your eyes may pierce I cannot tell;
Striving to better, oft we marre what's well.

Gent. Nay then—

Alb. Well, well, the vent.

Excunt.

## Scæna Quinta.

Enter Lear, Kent, Gentleman, and Foole.

Lear. Goe you before to Glofter with these Letters;
acquaint my daughter no further with any thing you
know, then comes from her demand out of the Letter,
if your diligence be not speedy, I shall be there afore
you.

Kent. I will not fleepe my Lord, till I have delivered your Letter.

Foole. If a mans brains were ins heeles, wert not in danger of kybes ?

Lear. I boy.

Foole. Then I prethee be merry, thy wit shall not goe flip-flod.

Lear. Ha, ha, ha.

Foole. Shalt fee thy other Daughter will use thee kind-
ly, for though fhes as like this, as a Crabbes like an Ap-
ple, yet I can tell what I can tell.

Lear. What canft tell Boy ?

Foole. She will taife as like this as, a Crabbe do's to a Crab: thou canft tell why ones nofe stands ith'middle on's face ?

Lear. No.

Foole. Why to keepe ones eyes of either fides nofe,
that what a man cannot f himself, he may fpy into.

Lear. I did her wrong.

Foole. Can't tell how an Oyfter makes his fhell ?

Lear. No.

Foole. Nor I neither; but I can tell why a Snaile ha's
a houfe.

Lear. Why ?

Foole. Why to puts head in, not to give it away to his daughters, and leave his hornes without a cafe.

Lear. I will forget my Nature, so kind a Father ? Be my horfes ready ?

Foole. Thy Affes are gone about em; the reafon why
the feven Starres are no mo then feven, is a pretty reafon.

Lear. Because they are not eight.

Foole. Yes indeed, thou wouldſt make a good foole.

Lear. To tak't againe perforce? Monfter ingratitude !

Foole. If you wert my foole Nunckle, I'd have thee beaten for being old before thy time.

Lear. How's that?

Foole. Thou shouldſt not have bin old, till thou hadſt
bin wife.

Lear. O let me not be mad, not mad sweet heaven:
keep me in temper, I would not be mad. How now,
are the horfes ready ?

Gent. Ready my Lord.

Lear. Come Boy.

Fool. She that'sa Maid now, and laughs at my departure
Shall not be a Maid long, unleſſe things be cut ſhorter.

Excunt.

## Actus Secundus. Scæna Prima.

Enter Bastard, and Curan, feverally.

Bast. Save thee Curan.

Cur. And you Sir, I have bin

With your Father, and given him notice
That the Duke of Cornwall, and Regan his Duchef
Will be here with him this night,

Bast. How comes that ?

Cur. Nay I know not, you have heard of the newes a-
broad, I meane the whisper'd ones, for they are yet but
car-kiffing arguments.

Bast. Not I: pray you what are they ?

Cur. Have you heard of no likely Warres toward,
Twixt the Dukes of Cornwall, and Albany ?

Bast. Nor a word.

Cur. You may doe then in time,
Fare you well Sir.

Exit

Bast. The Duke be here to night ? the better beſt,
This weaves it ſelfe perſorce into my buſineſſe,
My father hath ſet guard to take my brother,
And I have one thing of a queazy queſtion

Twixt the Dukes of Cornwall, and Albany ?
And Fortune worke.

Enter Edgar.

Brother, a word, diſcend; brother I ſay,
M, father watches; O Sir, flye this place,
Intelligence is given where you are hid;
You have now the good advantage of the night,
Have you not ſpoken gainſt the Duke of Cornwall?

His comming hither, now ith'night, ith'haffte,

And Regan with him, have you nothing faid

Vpon his party gainſt the Duke of Albany ?

Advife your ſelfe.

Edg. I am ſure on't, not a word.

Bast. I heare my father comming, pardon me :
In canning, I muſt draw my Sword upon you :

Draw, ſeeue to defend your ſelfe,
Now quit you well.

Yeeld, come before my father, light hoa, here,
Flye Brother, Torches, to farewell,

Exit Edgar.

Some blood drawne on me would beget opinion
Of my more fierce endeavour: I have ſeen drunkards
Do more then this in port; Father, father,
Stop, ſtop, no helpe ?

Enter Gloſter, and Servants with Torches.

Glo. Now Edmund, where's the villaine ?

Bast. Here ſtood he in the darke, his ſharpe Sword out,
Mumbling of wicked charmes, conjuring the Moone
To ſtand aufpicious Miftris.

Glo. But where is he ?

Bast. Looke Sir, I bleed,

Glo. Where is the villaine, Edmund ?

Bast. Fled this way Sir, when by no meanes he could

Glo. Purſue him, ho : goe after. By no meanes, what?

Bast. Perſwade me to the murther of your Lordship,
Gainſt

The Tragedy of King Lear.

311

But that I told him the revenging Gods,
Gauft Parricides did all the thunder bend,
Spoke with how manifold, and ftrong a Bond
The Child was bound to'th'Father, Sir in fine,
Seeing how lothly oppofite I ftood
To his unmaturall purpose, in fell motion
With his prepared Sword, he charges home
My unprovided body, latch'd mine arme :
And when hefaw my beſt alarum'd ſpirits
Bold in the quarrels right, rouz'd to th'encounter,
Or whether gaf ted by the noyſe I made,
Full fodainely he fled.

Glo. Let him flye farre :

Not in this Land ſhall he remaine uncaught
And found; difpatch, the Noble Duke my Maſter,
My worthy Arch and Patron comes to night,
By his authority I will proclaime it,
That he which finds him ſhall deferve our thankes,
Bringing the murderous Coward to the stake :
Hath that conceales him, death.

Baſt. When I diſwaded him from his intent,
And found him pight to doe it, with curſt ſpeech
I threatened to diſcover him ; he replied,
Thou unpoſſeſſing Baſtard, doſt thou thinke,
If I would ſtand againſt thee, would the repoſall
Of any truſt, vertue, or worth in thee
Make thy words faith'd ? No, what ſhould I deny,
(As this I would, though thou didſt produce
My very Character) Ild turne it all

Tothi ſuggeſtion, plot, and damned practice :
And thou muſt make a dullard of the world,
If they not thought the profits of my death
Were very pregnant and potentiall ſpirits
To make thee feeke it.

Tocket within.

Glo. Oſtrange and faſtred Vilaine,
Would he deny his Letter, faſd he ?
Hearke, the Dukes trumpets, I know not where he comes
All Ports Ile barre, the villaine ſhall not ſcape,
The Duke muſt grant me that : befides, his picture
I will ſend farre and neere, that all the kingdome
May have due note of him, and of my land,
(Loyall and natnall Boy) Ile worke the meanes
To make thee capable.

Enter Cornewall, Regan, and Attendants.

Cor. How now my Noble friend, since I came hither
(Which I can call but now) I have heard ſtrangenefle.

Reg. If it be true, all vengeance comes too ſhort

Which can purſue th'offender : how does my Lord ?
Glo. O Madam, my old heart is crack'd, its crack'd.

Reg. What, did my Fathers Godſonne feeke your life?
He whom my father nam'd, your Edgar :

Glo. O Lady, Lady, ſhame would have it hid.

Reg. Was he not companion with the ſiotous Knights
That tended upon my father ?

Glo. I know not Mad am, tis too bad, too bad.

Bast. Yes Madam, he was of that comfort.

Reg. No marvaile then, though he were ill affected,
Tis they have put him on the old mans death,
To have th'expence and waſt of Revenues ;

I have this prefent evening from my Sifter
Bene well inform'd of them, and with ſuch cautions,
That if they come to ſojourn at my houſe,
Ilenot be there.

Cor. Nor I, affure thee Regan ;

Edmund, I heare that you have ſhewne your Father
A Child-like Office.

Bast. It was my duty Sir.

Glo. He did bewray his practice, and receiv'd
This hurt you fee, ftriving to apprehend him.

Cor. Is he purfued ?

Glo. I my good Lord.

Cor. If he be taken, he ſhall never more
Be fear'd of doing harme, make your owne purpose,
How in my ſtrength you pleafe : as for you Edmund,
Whofe vertue and obedience doth this inſant
So much commerd it ſelfe, you ſhall be ours,
Natures of ſuch deepe truſt, we ſhall much need :
You we firſt feize on.

Bast. I ſhall ſerve you Sir truly, how ever eſſe.

Glo. For him I thanke your Grace.

Cor. You know not why we came to viſit you ?

Reg. Thus out of ſeafon, thredding darke ey'd night,
Occafions Noble Gloſter of ſome prize,
Wherein we muſt have uſe of your aduice.
Our Father he bath writ, ſo hath our Sifter,
Of differences, which I beſt thought it ſit
To anſwer from our home : the ſeverall Meffengers
From hence attend diſpatch, our good old friend,
Lay comforts to your boſome, and beſtow
Your neeſtfull counſail to our buſineſſes,
Which craves the inſant uſe.

Glo. I ſerve you Madam,
Your Graces are right welcome.

Exeunt.

## Scena Secunda.

Enter Kent, and Steward ſeverally.

Stew. Good dawning to thee friend, art of this houſe?

Kent. I.

Stew. Where may we ſet our horſes ?

Kent. I th'myre.

Stew. Prethee, if thou lov'ſt me, tell me.

Kent. I love thee not.

Stew. Why then I care not for thee.

Kent. If I had thee in Lipsbury Pinſold, I would make
thee care for me.

Stew. Why doſt thou uſe me thus ? I know thee not.

Kent. Fellow I know thee.

Stew. What doſt thou know me for ?

Kent. A Knave, a Raſcall, an eater of broken meates, a
bafe, proud, ſhallow, beggerly, three ſuited, hundred
pound, filthy woolſted-ſtocking knave, a Lilly-livered,
aſction-taking, whoſe ſon glaſſe-gazing ſuper-ſervicable
finicall Rogue, one Trunke-inheriting ſlave, one that
wouldſt be a Baud in way of good ſer vice, and art no-
thing but the composition of a Knave, Begger, Coward,
Pandar, and the Sonne and Heire of a Mungrill Bitch,
one whom I will beate into clamours whining, if thou
deny'ſt the leaſt ſillable of thy addition.

Stew. Why, what a monſtrous fellow art thou, thus
to raile on one, that is neither knowne of thee, nor knows
thee ?

Kent. What a brazen-fac'd Varlet art thou, to deny
thou knoweſt me ? Is it two dayes since I tript up thy
hcees, and beate thee before the King? Draw you rogue,
for

The Tragedy of King Lear.

312

for though it be night, yet the Moone fhines, Ile make a
fop oth'Moonefhine of you, you whorfon Cullynely
Barbar-monger, draw.

Stew. Away, I have nothing to doe with thee.

Kent. Draw you Rascall, you come with Letters a-
gainſt the King, and take Vanity the puppets part, a-
gainſt the Royalty of her father: draw you Rogue, or
Ile ſo carbonado your ſhankes, draw you Rascall, come
your wayes.

Stew. Helpe, ho, murther, helpe.

Kent. Strike you flave: ſtand rogue, ſtand you neat
flave, ſtrike.

Stew. Helpe hea, murther, murther.

Enter Basford, Cornwall, Regan, Gloster, Servant.

Basf. How now, what's the matter? Part.

Kent. With you goodman boy, it you pleafe, come,
Ile fleh ye, come on yong Maſter.

Glo. Weapons ? Armes ? what's the matter here ?

Cor. Keepe peace upon your lives, he dyes that ſtrikes
againe, what is the matter ?

Reg. The Meſſengers from our Sifter, and the King ?

Cor. What is your difference, ſpeake ?

Stew. I am Icarce in breath my Lord.

Kent. No Marvell, you have to beſtir'd your valour,
you cowardly Raſſcall, nature diſlaimeſ in thee: a Taylor
made thee.

Cor. Thou art a ſtrange fellow, a Taylor make a man ?

Kent. A Taylor Sir; a Stone, cutter, or a Painter, could not have made him ſo ill, though they had bin but two years oth' trade.

Cor. Speake yet, how grew your quarrell ?

Kent. This ancient Ruffian Sir, whole life I have ſpar'd
at fute of his gray-beard.

Kent. Then whomeſon Zed, thou unnecessary letter,
my Lord, if you will give me leave, I will tread this un-
bouſted villaine into morter, and daube the wall of a
Jakes with him, Spare my gray-beard, you wagtaile ?

Cor. Peace firrah,

You beaſtly knave, know you no reverence ?

Kent. Yes Sir, but anger hath a privilege.

Cor. Why art thou angry ?

Kent. That ſuch a flave as this should weare a Sword,
Who weares no honefly: ſuch ſmiling rogues as theſe,
Like Rats oft-bite the holy cords a twaine,
Which art't intrince, t'unloofe: ſmooth every paffion
That in the natures of their Lords rebeli,
Being oile to fire, ſnow to the colder moodses,
Renege, aſſirme, and turne their Halcion beakes
With every gale, and vary of their Maſlers,
Knowing naught (like dogges) but following:
A plague upon your Epilepticke viſage,
Smoile you my ſpeeches, as I were a foole ?
Goofe, if I had you upon Sarum Plaine,
I'd drive ye cackling home to Camelot.

Corn. What art thou mad old Fellow ?

Gloft. How fell you out, fay that?

Kent. No contraries hold more antipathy,
Then I, and ſuch a knave.

Corn. Why doſt thou call him Knave ?

What is his fault ?

Kent. His countenance likes me not.

Cor. No more perchance do's mine, nor his, nor hers.

Kent. Sir, tis my occupation to be plaine,
I have ſeene better faces in my time,

Then ſtands on any ſhoulder that I fee
Before me, at this infant.

Corn. This is ſome ſellow,

Who having beene prais'd for bluntneſſe, doth aſſeet

A fancy roughneſſe, and conſtraines the garb

Quite from his Nature. He cannot flatter, he,

An honeft mind and plaine, he muſt ſpeake truth,

And they will take it ſo, if not, he's plaine.

Theſe kind of Knaves I know, which in this plainneſſe.

Harbour more craft, and more corrupter ends,

Then twenty filly-ducking obſervants,

That ſtretch their duties nicely.

Kent. Sir, in good faith, in ſincere verity,
Vnder th'allowance of your great aſpect,
Whole influence like the wreath of radiant fire
On flicking Phebus front.

Corn. What mean't by this ?

Kent. To goe out of my dialect: which you difcom-
mend ſo much ; I know Sir, I am no flatterer, he that be-
guild you in a plaine accent, was a plaine Knave, which
for my part I will not be, though I ſhould win your dif-
pleasure to entreat me too't.

Corn. What was th'offence you gave him ?

Stew. I never gave him any :

It pleas'd the King his Maſter very late

To ſtrike at me upon his miſconſtruction,

When he compacts, and flattering his diſpleasure

Tript me behind : being downe, influtred, rail'd.

And put upon him tuch a deale of Man,

That worthied him, got praiſes of the King,

For him attempting, who was ſelfe ſubdu'd,

And in the ſlethment of this dead exploit,

Drew on me here againe.

Kent. None of theſe Rogues, and Cowards

But *Ajax* is their foolè.

Corn. Fetch forth the Stockes?

You ſubborne ancient Knave, you reverent Bragart,
We'll teach you.

Kent. Sir, I am too old to leane:

Call not your Stockes for me, I serve the King.

On whose employment I was ſent to you,

You ſhall do ſmall reſpects, ſhow too bold malice

Againſt the Grace, and Perſon of my Maſter,

Stocking his Meſſenger.

Corn. Fetch forth the Stockes ;

As I have life and honor, there ſhall he ſit till Noone.

Reg. Till noone ? till night my Lord, and all night too.

Kent. Why Madam, if I were your Fathers dog,
You ſhould not uſe me ſo.

Reg. Sir, being his Knave, I will. Stockes brought out.

Cor. This is a fellow of the ſelfe fame colour,
Our Sifter ſpeakes of. Come, bring away the Stockes.

Glo. Let me beſeech your Grace, not to doe ſo,
The King his Maſter, needs muſt take it ill
That he to flightely valued in his Meſſenger,
Should have him thus reſtrained.

Corn. Ile anſwer that.

Reg. My Sifter may I receive it much more worſe,
To have her Gentleman abus'd, aſſaulted.

Corn. Come my Lord, away. Exit.

Glo. I am forſory for thee friend, tis the Dukes pleafure,
Whoſe diſpoſition all the world well knowes

Will not be rubb'd nor ſtopt, Ile entreat for thee.

Kent. Pray do not Sir, I have watch'd and travaile'd hard,
Some time I ſhall flecte out, the reſt I will whittle :

A good mans fortune may grow out at heele's :

Give

Give you
Glo. T.
Twill be
Kent. G.
Thou out
To the
Approach
That by
Peruse the
But mifer
Who hat
Of my ob
From this
Loſſes the
Take van
This ſhan
d
Smile on

Ed. I
And by the
Eſcap'd that
That guar
Do's not a
I will pre
To take th
That ever
Brought to
Blanket m
And with
The Win
The Coun
Of Bedlan
Strike in
Pins, Wo
And with
Poore pel
Sometime
Inforce th
That's for

Lear. T.
And not
Gen. A.
The nigh
Of this re
Kent. A.
Lear. A.
Kent. F.
Fool, H.
tide by th
kies by'th
verluſa
Lear. V.
That hat
To let th
Kent. V.
Your Son
Lear. A.
Kent. A.
Lear. A.
Kent. A.
Lear. A.

The Tragedy of King Lear.

313

Give you good morrow.

Glo. The Duke's too blame in this,

Twill be ill taken,

Exit.

Kent. Good King, that must approve the common law,
Thou out of heavens benediction com'it
To the warme Sun.

Approach thou Beacon to this under Globe,
That by thy comfortable Beames I may
Peruse this Letter. Nothing almost sees miracles
But mifery. I know tis from Cordelia,
Who hath moft fortunately beene inform'd
Of mye obfured courfe. And shall find time
From this enormous State, seeking to give
Loſſes their remedies. All weary and o're-watch'd,
Take vantage heavy eyes, not to behold
This famefull lodging. Fortune goodnight,
Smile once more, turne thy wheele.

Enter Edgar.

Edge. I heard my ſelfe proclaim'd,
And by the happy hollow of a Tree,
Ecap'd the hunt. No Port is free, no place
That guard, and moſt unuſt vigilance
Do's not attend my taking. While I may ſcape
I will preferve my ſelfe: and am bethought
To take the baſeſt, and moſt pooreſt ſhape
That ever penury in contempt of man,
Brought neere to beaſt: my face Ile grime with filth,
Blanket my loynes, elfe all my haires in knots,
And with prefented nakedneſſe out-face
The Windes, and perſecutions of the sky:
The Country gives me proofe, and preſident
Of Bedlam beggers, who with roaring voyces,
Strike in their numm'd and mortified Armes,
Pins, Wodden-prickes, Nayles, Sprigs of Rosemary:
And with this horrible objeſt, from low Farmes,
Poore pelting Villages, Sheepes-Coates, and Milles,
Sometimes with Lunaticke bans, fometimes with Praiers
Inforce their charity: poore Twrlyged, poore Tom.
Thats ſomething yet: Edgar I nothing am,
Exit.

Enter Lear, Foole, and Gentleman.

Lear. Tis ſtrange that they ſhould ſo depart from home,
And not ſend backe my Meſſengers.

Gen. As I learn'd,

The night before, there was no purpofe in them
Of this remove.

Kent. Haile to thee Noble Maſler.

Lear. Ha ? Mak'it thou this fame thy pastime ?

Kent. No my Lord.

Foole. Ha, ha, he weares Cruell Garters; horſes are tide
tide by the heads, Dogges and Beares by't'necke, Mon-
kies by't'loynes, and Men by't'legs; when a man is o-
verſuity at legs, then he weares wodden nether-ſtockes.

Lear. What's he,

That hath ſo much thy place miſtooke
To let thee heere ?

Kent. It is both he and the,

Your Son, and Daughter,

Lear. No.

Kent. Yes.

Lear. No I ſay.

Kent. I ſay yea.

Lear. By Imitator I ſweare no.

Kent. By Iuno, I ſweare I.

Lear. They durſt not do't:

They could not, would not do't: tis worſe then murther,
To doe upon reſpect ſuch violent outrage:
Reſolve me with all modeſt haſte, which way
Thou mightſt deferve, or they impoſe this viſage,
Comming from uſ.

Kent. My Lord, when at their home
I did commend your highneſſe Letters to them,
Ire I was riven from the place, that ſhewed
My duty kneeling, came there a recking Poſe,
Stew'd in his haſte, haſſe breathleſſe, panting forth
From Goneril his Miftris, falutation ;
Deliver'd Letters ſpight of intermiſlion,
Which prefently they read; on thoſe contents
They ſummon'd up their meiney, ſtraight tooke horſe,
Commanded me to follow, and attend
The leifure of their anſwer, gave me cold lookes,
And meeting heere the other Meſſenger,
Whofe welcome I perceiv'd had poſſon'd mine,
Being the very fellow which of late
Diſplaid ſo faſwely againſt your highneſſe,
Having more man then wit about me, drew;
He rais'd the houſe, with loud and coward cryes,
Your Sonne and daughter found this trefpafle worth
The fame which heere it ſuffers.

(way,

Foole. Winters not gone yet, if the wild Geefe fly that
Fathers that weare rags, doe make their Children blind,
But fathers that beare bags, ſhall fee their children kind.
Fortune that arrant who're, nere turnes the key toth'poore
But for all this thou ſhalt have as many Dolors for thy
Daughters, as thou canſt tell in a yeare.

Lear. Oh how this Mother ſwels up toward my heart!
Historica paffle, downe thou climbing ſorrow,
Thy Element's below; where is this daughter?

Kent. With the Earle Sir, here within.

Lear. Follow me not, fly heere.

Exit.

Gen. Made you no more offence,

But what you ſpeak of ?

Kent. None ;

How chance the King comes with ſo ſmall a number ?

Foole. And thou hadt beene ſet iſt'Stockes for that
question, thou'd it well deſerv'd it.

Kent. Why foole ?

Foole. We'll ſet thee to schoole to an Aut, to teach thee
thereſ no labouring iſt'winter. All that follow their
noſes, are led by their eyes, but blind men and thereſ not
a noſe among twenty, but can ſmell him that's ſtinking let
go e thy hold, when a great wheele rns downe a hill,
left it breake thy necke with following. But the great
one that goes upwad, let him draw the e after: when a
wifeman gives thee better counſell give me mine againe,
I would have none but knaves follow it, ſince a foole
gives it.

That Sir, which ſerves and ſeekes for gaine,
And followes but for forme ;

Will packe, when it begins to raine,

And leave thee in the ſtorme,
But I will tarry, the foole will stay,

And let the wifeman flye :

The knave turnes foole that runnes away,

The foole no knave perdy.

Enter Lear, and Glower.

Kent. Where learn'd you this foole ;

Foole. Not iſt'Stockes foole.

Lear.

The Tragedy of King Lear.

314

Lear. Deny to fpeake with me?
They are fickle, they are weary.

They have travai'd all the night ? meere fetches.
The Images of revolt and flying off.

Fetch me a better anfuer.

Glo. My deere Lord,

You know the fiery quality of the Duke,
How unremoveable and fixt he is

In his owne courfe.

Lear. Vengeance, Plague, Death, Confufion :
Fiery ? What quality ? Why Glofter, Glofter,
I'l'd fpeake with the Duke of Cornewall, and his wife.

Glo. Well, my good Lord, I have inform'd them to.

Lear. Inform'd them? Doft thou understand me man?

Glo. I my good Lord.

Lear. The King would fpeake with Cornewall,

The deere Father

Would with his Daughter fpeake, commands, tends, fer-
Are they inform'd of this? My breath and blood : (vice)

Fiery? The fiery Duke, teil the hot Duke that—
No, but not yet, may be he is not well,
Infirmity doth it still neglect all office,

Whereto our health is bound, we are not our felves,
When Nature being oppreft, commands the mind
To ſuffer with the body; He forbeare,

And am fallen out with my more headier will,

To take the indifpos'd and fickly fit,

For the found man. Death on my ſtate : wherefore

Should he ſit here ? This Aſt perſwades me,
That this remotion of the Duke and her

Is præſtife only, Give me my ſervant forth;

Goetell the Duke, and's wife, I'l'd fpeake with them :

Now, prefently : bid them come forth and heare me,

Or at their chamber doorre Ile beat the Drum,

Till it cry ſleepe to death.

Glo. I would have all well betwixt you. Exit.

Lear. Oh me my heart! my riling heart ! but downe.

Foole. Cry to it Nuncle, as the Cockney did to the
Eeles, when hee put 'em i'th' Paſtive alive, the knapt 'em
o'th' Coxcombs with a ſticke, and cryed downe wantons,
downe ; twas her brother, that in pure kindneſſe to his
horſe buttered his Hey.

Enter Cornewell, Regan, Glofter, Servants.

Lear. Good morrow to you both.

Corn. Haile to your Grace. Kent here fet at liberty.

Reg. I am glad to fee your Highneſſe.

Lear. Regan, I thinke you are. I know what reaſon,
I have to thinke ſo, if thou should'ſt not be glad,
I would divorce me from thy Mothers Tombe,
Sepulchring an Adulterefle. O are you free?

Some other time for that. Beloved Regan

Thy fifters naught: Oh Regan, ſhe hath tyed

Sharpe tooth'd unkindneſſe, like a vulture here's

I can ſcarce ſpeake to thee, thou'lt not beleeve

With how deprav'd a quality. Oh Regan.

Reg. I pray you Sir, take patience, I have hope
You leſſe know how to value her defert,
Than ſhe to ſcant her duty.

Lear. Say ? how is that?

Reg. I cannot thinke my ſilter in the leaſt

Would faile her Obligation. If ſir perchance

She have refrained the Riots of your Followers,
Tis on fuch ground, and to fuch wholeſome end,
As cleares her from all blame.

Lear. My curſes on her.

Reg. O Sir, you are old,

Nature in you ſtands on the very Verge

Of her confine : you ſhould be rul'd, and led

By ſome difcretion, that diſcernes your ſtate

Better then you your ſelfe : therefore I pray you,

That to our Sifter, you doe make returne,

Say you have wrong'd her.

Lear. Aske her forgiſeneſſe ?

Doe you but marke how this becomes the houſe ?

Deere daughter, I confefle that I am old ;

Age is unneceſſary : on my knees I begge,

That you'll vouchſaſe me Rayment, Bed, and Food.

Reg. Good Sir, no more : theſe are unfightely tricks :

Returne you to my Sifter.

Lear. Never Regan :

She hath abated me of halſe my Traine :

Look'd blacke upon me, I brooke me with her Tongue

Moſt Serpent-like, upon the very heart.

All the ſtor'd Vengeances of heaven, fall

On her ingratefull top : ſtrike her yong bones

You taking Ayres, with Lameneſſe.

Corn. Fye fir, ſie.

Lear. You nimble Lightnings, dart your blinding flames

Into her ſcornfull eyes : inſect her Beauty,

You Fen-fuſk'd Fogges, drawne by the powerfull Sunne

To fall, and blifter.

Reg. O the bled Gods !

So will you wifh on me, when the rafh moode is on.

Lear. No Regan, thou ſhalt never have my curſe :

Thy tender-heſted Nature ſhall not give

Thee ore to barhneſſe : Her eyes are ſiſer, but thine

Doe comfort, and not burne. Tis not in thee

To grudge my pleatures, to cut off my Traine,

To bany haſty words, to ſcant my ſiſes,

And in conclusion, to oppoſe the bolt

Again ſt my comming in. Thou better knowſt

The Oſlice: of Nature, bond of Childhood,

Effects of Curſe, dues of Gratitude :

Thy halſe o'th' kingdome haſt thou not forgot,

Wherein I thee endow'd.

Reg. Good Sir, to th' purpofe—

Tucket within.

Lear. Who put my man i'th' Stockes?

Enter Steward.

Corn. What Trumpets that;

Reg. I know't my Sifters : this approves her Letter,
That ſhe would ſoone be here. Is your Lady come ? ]

Lear. This is a Slave, whoſe eſſie borrowed pride

D'vels in the fickly grace of her he followes.

Out Varlet, from my fight.

Corn. What means your Grace?

Enter Goneril.

Lear. Who ſteckt my Servant? Regan, I have good hope
Thou didst not know on't.

Who comes here ? O heavens !

If you doe love old men; if your ſweet ſway

Allow Obedience : if you your ſelves are old,

Make it your cauſe : Send downe, and take my part.

Art not aſham'd to looke upon this Beard ?

O Regan, will you take her by the hand ?

Gon. Why not by th'hand Sir? How have I offended ?

Alls not offence that indefiniteonſt findes

And doret termes ſo.

Lear. O fides, you are too tough !

Will you yet hold ?

How came my man i'th'Stockes?

Corn. I fet him there, Sir: but his owne Diforders

Deferv'd

The Tragedy of King Lear.

315

Deliver'd much leſſe advancement.

Lear. You? Did you ?

Reg. I pray, you Father being weake, I come to you.

If full the expiration of your Moneth
You will returne and fojourne with my Sifter,
Diflimiling halfe your traine, come then to me,
I am now from home, and out of that provifion
Which shall be needfull for your entertainment.

Lear. Returne to her ? and fifty men diſmifs'd ?

No, rather I abjure all rooftes, and chufe,

To wage againſt the enmity oth'ayre,

To be a Comrade with the Wolfe, and Owle,

Necefities ſharpe pinch. Returne with her ?

Why the hot-bloodied France, that dowerleſſe tooke

Our yongeſt borne, I could as well be brought

To knee his Throne, and Squire-like penſion beg,

To keepe bafe life a foote ; returne with her ?

Perſwade me rather to be flave and ſumpter

To this deteſſed groome.

Gon. At your choyce Sir.

Lear. I prethee Daughter doe not make me mad,

I will not trouble thee my Child : farewell :

We'll no more meete, no more fee one another,

But yet thou art my fleſh, my blood, my daughter,

Or rather a diſeafe that in my fleſh,

Which I muſt needs call mine. Tho' art a Byle,

A plague fore, or imboſſed Carbuncle

In my corrupted blood. But Hee not chide thee.

Let flame come when it will, I do not call it,

I do not bid the Thunder-bearer ſhoote,

Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Love,

Mend when thou can't, be better at thy leifure,

I can be patient, I can ſlay with Regan,

And my hundred Knights.

Reg. Not altogether ſo,

Hlook'd not for you yet, nor am provided

For your fit welcome, give eare Sir to my Sifter,

For that he might reaſon with you paffion,

Muſt be content to thinke you old; and ſo,

But the knowes what the doe's

Lear. Is this well ſpoken ?

Reg. I dare avouch it Sir, what fifty Followers ?

Is it not well ? What should you need of more ?

Yea, or ſo many ? Sith that both charge and danger,

Speake gainſt ſo great a number : How in one houſe

Should many people, under two commands

Hold amity ? Tis hard, almoſt impoſſible.

Gon. Why might not you my Lord, receive attendance
From that he calls Servants, or from mine ?

Reg. Why not my Lord ?

If then they chanc'd to ſlacke ye,

We could comptroll them ; if you will come to me,

(For now I ſpye a danger) I entreat you

To bring but five and twenty, to no more

Will I give place or notice.

Lear. I gave you all.

Reg. And in good time you gave it.

Lear. Made you my Guardians, my Depositaries,

But kept a reſervation to be followed

With ſuch a number ? What, muſt I come to you

With five and twenty ? Regan, (said you ſo ?)

Reg. And ſpeak't againe my Lord, no more with me.

Lear. Thoſe wicked Creatures yet do looke wel favor'd
When others are more wicked, not being the worſt

Stands in ſome ranke of praife, Hee goe with thee,

Thy fifty yet doth double five and twenty,

And thou art twice her Love.

Gon. Heare me my Lord;

What need you five and twenty ? Ten ? Or five ?

To follow in a houſe, where twice ſo many

Have a command to tend you ?

Reg. What need one ?

Lear. O reaſon not the need : our bafeſt Beggers
Are in the pooreſt thing ſuperſiſuous,

Allow not Nature, more then Nature needs :

Mans life is cheape as Bealtes. Thou art a Lady;

If only to goe warme were gorgeous,

Why Nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear ſt,

Which ſcarcely keepes thee warme, but for true need,

You heavens, give me that patience, patience I need,

You fee me here (you gods) a poore old man,

As full of griefe as age, wretched in both,

If it be you that ſtirres theſe Daughters hearts

Againſt their father, ſoole me not ſo much,

To beare it tamely : touch me with Noble anger,

And let not womens weapons, water drops,

Staine my mans chekes. No you unnaturall Hags,

I will have ſuch revenges on you both,

That all the world ſhall— I will doe ſuch things,

What they are yet, I know not, but they ſhall be,

The terrors of the earth ? you thinke Hee weefe,

No, Hee not weefe, I have full cauſe of weeping.

Storme and Tempeſt.

But this heart ſhal breake into a hundred thouſand flaws
Or ere I weefe. O foole, I ſhall goe mad.

Exeunt.

Corn. Let us withdraw, twill be a Storme.

Reg. This houſe is little, the old man and's people,

Cannot be well beſtow'd.

Gon. Tis his owne blame hath put himſelfe from reſt,
And muſt needſtaſte his folly.

Reg. For his particular, He receiue him gladly,

Bnt not one follower.

Gon. So am I purpoſ'd,

Where is my Lord of Gloſter ?

Enter Gloſter.

Corn. Followed the old man forth, he is return'd.

Glo. The King is in highrage.

Corn. Whether is he going?

Glo. He calls to horſe, but will I know not whether.

Corn. Tis beſt to give him way, he leads himſelfe.

Gon. My Lord, entreat him by no meanes to ſlay.

Glo. Alacke the night comes on, and the high windes

Doe foreely ruffle, for many Miles about

Theres ſcarce a Buſh.

Reg. O Sir, to willfull men,

The injuries that they themſelves procure,

Muſt be their Schoole-Maſters : ſhat up your doores,

He is attended with a deſperate traine,

Aud what they may incenſe him to, being apt,

To have his care abus'd, wifedome bids ſcare.

Corn. Shut up your doores my Lord, tis a wil'd night,

My Regan counſels well : come out oth'roſt me.

Exeunt.

Adus Tertius. Scæna Prima.

Storme still. Enter Kent, and a Gentleman, ſeverally.

Kent. Who's there befides ſoule weather ?

Gon. One minded like the weather, moſt unquietly.

Koſſu

316

The Tragedy of King Lear.

Kent. I know you: Wheres the King?

Gent. Contending with the fretfull Elements.

Bids the winde blow the Earth into the Sea,
Or fwell the curled Waters bove the Maine,
That things might change, or ceafe.

Kent. But who is with him?

Gent. None but the foole, who labours to out-jell
His heart-tfrooke injuries.

Kent. Sir, I doe know you,

And dare upon the warrant of my note
Commend a deere thing to you. There is divifion
(Although as yet the face of it is cover'd
With mutaall cunning) twixt Albany, and Cornwall :
Who have, as who have not, that their great Starres
Thron'd and fet high; Servants, who feeme no leſſe,
Which are to France the Spies and Speculations
Intelligent of our State. What hath bin ſene,
Either in ſnuffes, and packings of the Dukes,
Or the hard Reine which both of them have borne
Aſainſt the old kind King; or ſomething deeper,
Whereof (perchance) theſe are but furniſings.

Gent. I will talke further with you.

Kent. No, doe not :

For confirmation that I am much more
Then my out-wali; open this Purſe, and take
What it containes. If you ſhall fee Cordelia,
(As ſeare not but you ſhall) ſhow her this Ring,
And ſhe will tell you who that fellow is
That yet you doe not know. Eye on this Storme,
I will goe ſeeke the King.

Gent. Give me your hand,

Have you no more to ſay ?

Kent. Few words, but to effect more then all yet;
That when we have found the King, in which your paine
That way, Ile this: He that firſt lights on him,
Holla the other.

Exeunt.

## Scena Secunda.

Storme fill. Enter Lear, and Foole.

Lear. Blow windes, and cracke your cheeks; Rage, blow
You Cataracts, and Hurricane's ſpout,
Till you have drench'd our Steepleſs, drowne the Cockes.
You Sulph'rous and Thought-executing fires,
Vaunt-curriers of Oake-cleaving Thunder-bolts,
Sindge my white head. And thou all-flaſhing Thunder,
Strike flat the thicke Rotundity o'th'world,
Cracke Natures moulds, all germaines ſpill at once
That makes ingratefull Man.

Foole. O Nunkle, Court hoiy-water in a dry houſe, is better then this Rain-water out o'doore. Good Nunkle, in, aske thy Daughters bleſſing, heeres a night pitties neither Wifemen, nor Fooles.

Lear. Rumble thy belly full: ſpit Fire, ſpowt Raine;
Nor Raine, Winde, Thunder, Fire are my daughters,
I taxe not you, you Elements with unkindneſſe.
I never gave you Kingdome, call'd you Children;
You owe me no ſubſcription. Then let fall
Your horrible pleafure. Heere I ſtand your Slave,
A poore, inſirme, weake, and deſpis'd old man :
But yet I call you ſervile Minifters,
That will with two pernicious daughters joyne
Your high-engender'd Battailles, gainſt a head

So old, and white as this. O, ho ! tis foule.

Foole. He that has a houſe to puts head in, has a good Head-peece :

The Codpiece that will houſe, before the head has any;
The Head, and he ſhall Lowſe: fo Beggers marry many.
The man y makes his Toe, what he his heart ſhould make,
Shall of a Corne cry woe, and turne his ſleepe to wake,

For there was never yet faire woman, but ſhe made
mouthes in a glaſſe.

Enter Kent.

Lear. No, I will be the patterne of all patience.
I will ſay nothing.

Kent. Whos there?

Foole. Marry heres Grace, and a Codpiece, thatsa
Wifeman, and a Foole.

Kent. Alas Sir are you here ? things that love night,
Love not ſuch nights as theſe: the wrathfull Skies
Gallow the very wanderers of the darke
And make them keepe their Caves : Since I was man,
Such fleets of fire, ſinch burſts of horrid Thunder,
Such groanes of roaring Winde, and Raine, I never
Remember to have heard. Mans Nature cannot carry
Th'affliction, nor the ſeare.

Lear. Let the great gods
That keepe this dreadful pudder ore our heads,
Find out their enemies now. Tremble thou Wretch,
That haſt within the undivulged Crimes
Vaw hiſt of Inſtice. Hide thee, thou Bloudy hand;
Thou Periun'd, and thou Similar of Vertue
That art Inſeuous. Caytiffe, to peces ſhake
That under covert, and convenient ſeeming
Has præſis'd on mans life. Cloſe pent-up quilts,
Rive your concealing Continents, and cry
Thefe dreadfull Summoners grace. I am a man,
More ſinn'd againſt, then finning.

Kent. Alacke, bare-headed ?

Gracious my Lord, hard by heere is a Hovell,
Some friendſhip will it lend you gainſt the Tempeſt:
Repofe you there, while I to this hard houſe
(More harder then the flones whereof tis rais'd,
Which even but now, demanding after you,
Deny'd me to come in) returne, and force
Their ſcanted curſe.

Lear. My wits begin to turne.

Come on my boy. How doſt my boy ? Art cold ?
I am cold my ſelfe. Where is this ſraw, my fellow ?
The Art of our Necefities is ſtrange,
And can make vilde things precious. Come, your hovell;
Poore Foole, and Knave, I have one part in my heart
Thats forry yet for thee.

Foole. He that has and a little-tyne wit,
With height-ho, the Winde and the Raine,
Muſt make content with his Fortunes ſit,
Though the Raine it raineth every day.

Lear. True Boy: Come bring us to this Hovell. Exit.
Foole. This is a brave night to coole a Curtizan :
Ile ſpeak a Propheſie ere I goe :

When Priefts are more in word, then matter :
When Brewers marre their Malt with water;
When Nobles are their Taylors Tutors,
No Heretiques burn'd but wenches Sutors,
When every Caſein Law is right:
No Squire in debt, nor no poore Knight :
When Slanders doe nor live in Tongues :
Nor Cut-purſes come not to throngs :
When Vifurers tell their Gold i'th'field,

And

And Baudes, Then ſhall the then comes the that going the This prophesy
This time.

Glo. Alacke,
dealing; when they rooke from me on paine of him, entreante

Bast. Mof

Glo. Goe to,
twene the D. I received a Let
I have lock'd the King now be
of a Power al
will looke him
maintaine tall
him perceiveth
bed, if I dye
my old Mafter
toward Edm

Bast. This
Inſantly kno
This ſeemes a
That which
The yonger r

Kent. Heere
The tirrany of
For Nature to

Lear. Let

Kent. Go

Lear. Wil

Kent. I ha

Good my Lor

Lear. The

Invades us to
But where the
The leſſer is
But if thy ſi
Thou'd meet
The bodies of
Doth from me
Save what be
Is not as th
For lifting for
No, I will w

The Tragedy of King Lear.

317

And Baudes, and whores, doe Churches build.
Then shall the Realme of Albion, come to great confusion
Then comes the time, who lives to see't,
That going chalbe us'd with feet.
This prophecy Merlin shall make, for I live before his
time.
Exit.

## Scena Tertia.

Enter Gloster, and Edmund.

Glo. Alacke, alacke Edmund, I like not this un naturall dealing; when I desired their leave that I might pity him, they tooke from me the use of mine owne houle, charg'd me on paine of perpetuall difpleasure, neither to fpeake of him, entreat for him, or any way fuftaine him.

Bast. Moft favage and unnatural.

Glo. Goe too; lay you nothing. There is divition betwene the Dukes, and a worfe matter then that : I have received a Letter this night, tis dangerous to be spoken, I have lock'd the Letter in my Clofet, thefe injuries the King now beares, will be revenged home ; there is part of a Power already footed, we must incline to the King, I will looke him, and privily relieve him ; goe you and maintaine talke with the Duke, that my charity be not of him bereived ; if he aske for me, I am ill, and gone to bed, if I dye for it, (as no leffe is threatened me) the King my old Mafter muft be relieved. There is ftrange things toward Edmund, pray you be careful.
Exit.

Bast. This Curtesie forbid thee, shall the Duke Inflantly know, and of that Letter too; This feemes a faire deferving, and muft draw me That which my father loofes : no leffe then all, The yonger rifes, when the old doth fall.
Exit.

## Scena Quarta.

Enter Lear, Kent, and Foole.

Kent. Heere is the place my Lord, good my Lord enter,
The tirrany of the open night's too rough
For Nature to endure.
Storme fill.
Lear.

Kent. Good my Lord enter heere.

Lear. Wilt breake my heart?

Kent. I had rather breake mine owne,

Good my Lord enter.

Lear. Thou thinkst is much that this contentious
Invades us to the skin: to is to thee,
(Storme)
But where the greater malady is fixt,
The leſſer is ſcarce felt. Thou'dt ſhun a Beare,
But if thy flight lay toward the roaring Sea,
Thou'dt meet the Beareth'mouth, when the mind's free
The bodies delicate the tempeſt in my mind,
Doth from my fences take all feeling eſſe,
Save what beates there, Filliall ingratitude,
Is not as this mouth ſhould teare this hand
For lifting food too't : But I will puniſh home ;
No, I will weepe no more : in ſuch a night,

To flut me out ? Poure on, I will endure :

In ſuch a night as this ? O Regan, Generill,

Your old kind Father, whole franke heart gave all
O that way madneſſe lyes, let me ſhun that :

No more of that.

Kent. Good my Lord enter here.

Lear. Prythee goe in thy ſelfe, ſeeke thine owne cafe,
This tempeſt will not give me leave to ponder
On things would hurt me more, but Ile goe in,
In Boy, goe firſt. You houſeſſe poverty,

Nay get thee in; Ile pray, and then Ile fcepce.
Poore naked wretches, where ſo ere you are
That bide the pelting of this pittileſſe ſtorme,
How shall your houſe-leſſe heads, and unfed fides,
Your lop'd, and window'd raggedneſſe defend you
From leaſons ſuch as theſe ? O I have tane
Too little care of this: Take Phyſicke, Pompe,
Expoſe thy ſelfe to ſeele what wretches ſeele,
That Thou maiſt ſhake the ſuper flux to them,
And ſhew the Heavens more juſt.

Exit.

Enter Edgar, and Foole.

Edg. Fathom, and halfe, Fathom and halfe ? poore Tom.

Foole. Come not in heere Nuncle, heres a ſpirit, helpe me, helpe me.

Kent. Give me thy hand, who's there ?

Foole. A ſpirit, a ſpirit, he fayes his name's poore Tom.

Ken. What art thou that doſt grumble there i'th'ſraw?
Come forth.

Edg. Away, the foule Fiend follows me, through the
ſharpe Hauthorne blow the winds. Humb, goe to thy
bed and warme thee,

Lear. Didſt thou give all to thy Daughters ? And art thou come to this?

Edg. Who gives any thing to poore Tom ? Whom
the foule Fiend hath led through Fire, & through Flame
through Sword, and Whirle Poole, ore Bog, and Quag-
mire, that hath laid Knives under his Pillow, and Halters
in his Pue, fet Rate-bane by his Porredge; made him
Proud of heart, to ride on a Bay trotting horſe, over foure
archt Bridges, to courſe his own ſhadow for a Traitor,
Bliffe thy five Wits, Tom's a cold. O do, de, do, de, do,
de, bliffe thee from Whirle-Winds, Starre-blaſting, and
taking, doe poore Tom fome charity, whom the foule
ſiend vexes. There could I have him now, and there, and
there againe, and there.
Storme fill.

Lear. Has his Daughters brought him to this paffe?
Couldt thou fave nothing ? Wouldt thou give em all ?

Foole. Nay, he referv'd a Blanket, eſſe we had bin all
ſham'd.

Lear. Now all the plagues that in the pendulous ayre
flang fated ore mens faults, light on thy daughters.

Kent. He hath no Daughters Sir.

Lear. Death Traitor, nothing could have ſubdu'd
To ſuch a lowneſſe, but his unkind Daughters. (Nature
Is it the fashion, that diſcarded Fathers,
Should have thus little mercy on their fleſh :
Iudicious puniſhment, twas this fleſh begot
Thofe Pelicane Daughter.
Edg. Pillicock fat on Pillicock hill, allow : allow, loo, loo,

Fool. This cold night will turne us all to fooles, and
Madmen.

Edgar. Take heed oth'foule fiend, obey thy Pa-
rents, keepe thy word, justice, ſweare not, commit not,
with
'tt

318

The Tragedy of King Lear.

with man's worne Spouse; fet not thy Sweet-heart on
proud array. Tom's a cold.

Lear. What haft thou bin ?

Edg. A Servingman ? Proud in heart, and mind : that
curl'd may haire, wore Gloves in my cap: ferv'd the Luft
of my Mitris heart, and did the act of darkeneffe with
her. Swore as many Oathes, as I spake words, and broke
them in the sweet face of heaven. Oue, that flept in the
contriving of Luft, and wak'd to doe it. Wine lov'd I
deerely, Dice deerely ; and in Woman, out-Paramour'd
the Turke. Falfe of heart, light of care, bloody hand:
Hog in cloth, Foxe in fealth, Wolfe in greedinefle, Dog
in madeneffe, Lion in prey. Let not the creaking of hooes,
Nor the ruftling of Silkes, betray thy poore heart to wo-
man. Keepe thy foote out of brothels, thy hand out of
Plackets, thy pen from Lenders Bookes, and defye the
foule fiend. Still through the Hauthorne blowes the
cold wind: Sayes fum, mun, nonny, Dolphin my Boy,
Boy Sefley: let him trot by.
Storme fitl.

Lear. Thou wert better in a Grave, then to anwer
with thy uncover'd body, this extremity of the Skies.
Is man no more then this ? Confider him well. Thou owt
the Worme no Silke : the Beaft, no Hide: the Sheepe, no
Wooll: the Cat, no perfume. Ha ? Heres three ons are
fophified. Thou art the thing it selfe, unaccom-
dated man, is no more but such a poore, bare, forked A-
nimall as thou art. Off, off you Lendings : Come, un-
button heere.

Enter Glouceſt, with a Torch.

Fool. Prethee Nunckle be contented, tis a naughty night
to ſwimme in. Now a little fire in a wilde field, were
like an old Letchers heart, a ſmall ſparke, all the reft
on's body, cold : Looke, heere comes a walking fire.

Edg. This is the foule Flibbertigibbet ; he begins at
Curfew, and walkes at firſt Cocke : He gives the Web
and the Pin, ſquints the eye, and makes the Hare-lip;
Mildewes the white Wheate, and hurts the poore Crea-
ture of earth.

Swishbold footed thrice the old.

He met the Night-Mare, and her ninefold,
Bid her a-light, and her troth-plight,

And aroyt thee Witch, aroynt thee;

Kent. How fares your grace ?

Lear. What's he ?

Kent. Whos there? What ist you feeke ?

Glou. What are you there? Your Names ?

Edg. Poore Tom, that eates the ſwimming Frog, the
Toad, the Tod-pole, the wall-Neut, and the water : that
in the fury of his heart, when the foule fiend rages, eats
Cow-dung for Sallets ; ſwallowes the old Rat, and the
ditch-Dogge: drinkes the green Mantle of the standing
Poole: who is whipt from Tything to Tything, and
flockt, punifch'd, and imprifon'd: who hath three Suites
to his backe, fixe flirts to his Body :

Horfe to ride, and weapon to weare :

But Mice, and Rats, and fuch ſmall Deare,

Have bin Toms food, for ſeven long yeere :

Beware my follower. Peace Smulkin, peace thou fiend.

Glon. What, hath your Grace no better company ?

Edg. The Prince of Darkeneſſe is a Gentleman. Modo
hes calld, and Mahu.

Glon. Our fleſh and blood, my Lord, is growne foild,
that it doth hate what gets it,

Edg. Poore Toms a cold.

Glon. Goe in with me ; my duty cannot suffer

T'obey in all your daughters hard commands :
Though their injunction be to barre my doors,
And let this Tyrannous night take hold upon you,
Yet have I ventured to come feeke you out,
And bring you where both fire, and foed is ready.

Lear. Firſt let me talke with this Philofopher,
What is the caufe of Thunder ?

Kent. Good my Lord take his offer,
Goe into th'houfe.

Lear. Ile talke a word with this fame learned Theban:
What is your ſtudy ?

Edg. How to prevent the fiend, and to kill Vermine.

Lear. Let me aske you one word in private.

Kent. Inportune him once more to goe my Lord,
His wits begin t'unfettle.

Glon. Can't thou blame him ?

Storme fitl.

His Daughters feeke his death : Ah, that good Kent,
He faid it would be thus : poore banifh'd man :

Thou fayeft the King growes mad, Ile tell thee friend
I am almoſt mad my ſelfe, I had a Sonne,

Now out-law'd from my blood : he fought my life

But lately : very late : I lov'd him (friend)

No father his Sonne deerer : true to tell thee,

The griſe hath craz'd my wits. What a nights this?
I do beſeech your grace.

Lear. O cry you mercy, Sir :

Noble Philofopher, your company.

Edg. Toms a cold.

Glon. In fellow there, into th'Hovell; keep mee warme

Lear. Come, lets in all.

Kent. This way, my Lord.

Lear. With him ;

I will keepe fitl with my Philofopher.

Kent. Good my Lord, footh him :

Let him take the fellow.

Glon. Take him you on.

Kent. Sira, come on : goe along with us.

Lear. Come, good Athenian.

Glon. No words, no words, hufh.

Edg. Child Rowland to the darke Tower came,

His word was fitl, ſie, foh, and fum

I ſmell the blood of a Brittrifh man.

Exeunt.

## Scena Quinta.

Enter Cornwall, and Edmund.

Corn. I will have my revenge, cre I depart his houſe.

Bast. How my Lord, I may be cenſured, that Nature
thus gives way to Loyalty, ſomething feares me to
thinke of.

Corn. I now perceive, it was not altogether your
Brothers evill disposition made him feeke his death : but
a provoking merit fet a worke by a reprovable badneſſe
in himſelfe.

Bast. How malicious is my fortune, that I muſt re-
pent to be juſt? This is the Letter which he ſpoke of;
which approves him an intelligent party to the advanta-
ges of France. O Heavens ! that this Treason were not;
or not I the deteſor.

Corn. Goe with me to the Dutcheſſe.

Bast. If the matter of this Paper be certaine, you have
mighty buſineſſe in hand.

Corn.

The Tragedy of King Lear.

319

Corn. True or false, it hath made thee Earle of Glou-
cefter : feeke out where thy father is, that he may bee
ready for our apprehension.

Bait. If I find him comforting the King, it will fluffe his fluption more fully. I will perfever in my courfe of Loyalty, though the conflict be fore betweene that and my blood.

Corn. I will lay trist upon thee; and thou shalt finde a deere father in my Love.
Exeunt.

## Scæna Sexta.

Enter Kent, and Gloucefter.

Glen. Here is better then the open ayre,take it thank-
fully: I will peeece out the comfort with what addition I
can: I will not be long from you.
Exil.

Kent. All the power of his wits, have given way to his impatience: the gods reward your kindneſſe.

Enter Lear, Edgar, and Foole.

Eda. Fraterretto cals me, and tells me Nero is an Ang-
ler in the Lake of Darkneſſe : pray innocent, and beware
the foule fiend.

Foole. Prethee Nunkle tell me, whether a madman be a Gentlemen, or a Yeoman.

Lear. A King, a King.

Foole. No, he's a Yeoman, that has a Gentleman to his Sonne: for he's a mad Yeoman that fees his Sonne a Gentleman before him.

Lear. To have a thouand with red burning ſpits
Come hizzing in upon'em.

Eda. Bieſſe thy tive wits.

Kent. O pitty : Sir, where is the patience now
That you fo oft have boafted to retaine ?

Eda. My teares begin to take his part so much,
They marre my counterfetting.

Lear. The little dogges, and all,
Trey, Blanch, and Sweet-heart: fee, they barke at me.

Eda. Tom will throw his head at them: Avauns you
Cures, be thy mouth or blacke or white:
Tooch that poſſons if it bite:

Maitſſes, Grey-hound, Mongrill, Grim,
Houad or Spaniell, Brache, or Hym :
Or Bobtaile tight, or Trounde taile,

Tom will make him weepe and wale,
For with throwing thus my head;
Dogs leapt the hatch, and all are fled.

Do, de, de, de: fefe; Come, march to Wakes and Faires,
And Market Townes:poore Tom thy horne is dry. Exiſt.

Lear. Then let them Anatomize Regan : See what
breeds about her heart. Is there any caufe in Nature that
make thefe hard-hearts. You fir, I entertaine for one of
my hundred; onely, I doe not like the fash ion of your gar-
ments. You will ſay they are Perſian; but let them be
chang'd,

Enter Gloſſer.

Kent. Now good my Lord, lye heere, and reſt awhile.

Lear. Make no noife, make no noyſe, draw the Cur-
tines: fo, fo, we'll goe to upper irth morning.

Foole. And Ile goe to bed at noone.

Glen. Come hither friend;

Where is the King my Maſter?

Kent. Here Sir, but trouble him not, his wits are gone.

Glen. Good friend, I prethee take him in thy armes;
I have oreheard a plot of death upon him :
There is a Litter ready, lay him in't,

And drive toward Dover friend, where thou shalt meete
Both welcome, and protection. Take up thy Matter,
If thou shouldst daily halfe an houre, his life
With thine, and all that offer to defend him,
Stand in affured loſſe. Take up, take up,
And follow me, that will to ſome provition

Give thee quicke conduct. Come, come, away. Exeunt.

## Scæna Septima.

Enter Cornwall, Regan, Gonerill, Baſtard,
and Servants.

Corn. Poffe ſpeedily to my Lord your husband, ſhew
him this Letter, the Army of France is landed: feeke out
the Traitor Gloſter.

Reg. Hang him instantly.

Gon. Plucke out his eyes.

Corn. Leave him to my displeaſe. Edmund, keepe you our Sifter company : the revenges we are bound to take upon your Traitorous father, are not fit for your beholding. Advife the Duke where you are going, to a moſt felimate preparation : we are bound to the like. Our Poffes ſhall be ſwift, and intelligent betwixt us. Farewell deere Sifter, farewell my Lord of Gloſter.

Enter Steward,

How now? Wheres the King?

Stew. My Lord of Gloſter hath convey'd him hence.

Some five or fix and thirty of his Knights

Hot Queſtrifts after him, met him at gate,
Who, with ſome other of the Lords dependants,

Are gone with him toward Dover; where they boafl
To have well armed friends.

Corn. Get horſes for your Miftris.

Gon. Farewell fweet Lord, and Sifter.

Corn. Edmund farewell; goe feeke the Traitor Gloſter,
Pinnion him like a Theeſe, bring him before us:

Though well we may not paffe upon his life

Without the forme of Iuſtice : yet our power
Shall doe a curſe to our wrath, which men

May blame, but not comp trail.

Enter Glouſſer, and Servants.

Whos there ? the Traitor ?

Reg. Ingratefull Fox, tis he.

Corn. Binde faſt his corky armes.

Glen. What meanes your Graces?

Good my friends confider you are my Gheſts :

Doe me no foule play, friends,

Corn. Binde him I lay.

Reg. Hard, hard: O filthy Traitor.

Glen. Vnmercifull Lady, as you are, I me none.

Corn. To this Chaire bind him,

Villaine, thou ſhalt finde.

Glen. By the kinde gods, tis moſt ignobly done

To plucke me by the Beard.

Reg. So white, and ſuch a Traitor?

Glen. Naughty Lady,

Theſe haires which thou doſt ravish from my chin

Will quicken aud accufe thee. I am your Hoft,

With Robbers hands, my hofpitable favours

tt 2

You

320

The Tragedy of King Lear.

You should not ruffle thus. What will you doe
Corn. Come Sir.

What Letters had you late from France ?

Reg. Be simple anfuer'd, for we know the truth.

Corn. And what confederacy have you with the Traitors, late footed in the Kingdome ?
Reg. To whoſe hands

You have ſent the Lunaticke King : ſpeake.

Glen. I have a Letter gueſingly ſet downe

Which came from one that's of a newtrall heart,
And not from one oppos'd.

Corn. Cunning.

Reg. And falſe.

Corn. Where haſt thou ſent the King ?

Glen. To Dover.

Reg. Wherefore to Dover ?

Was't thou not charg'd at perill.

Corn. Wherefore to Dover ? Let him anſwer that.

Glen. I am tyed to th' ſtake,
And I muſt ſtand the Courſe.

Reg. Wherefore to Dover ?

Glen. Because I would not ſee thy cruell Nailes
Plücke out his poore old eyes: nor thy ſierce Sifter,
In his Annointed ſleſh, ſticke boarſh phangs.

The Sea, with ſuch a ſtorne as his bare head,
In hell-blacke-night indur'd, would have buoy'd up
And quench'd the Stelled fires :

Yet poore old heart, he holp the heavensto raine.
If Wolves had at thy Gate howl'd that ſterne time,
Thou ſhouldt have faid, good Porter turne the Key :
All Cruels eſſe ſubſcribe : but I ſhall ſee

The winged Vengeance overtake ſuch Children.

Corn. Seet ſhalt thou never. Fellows hold the Chaire.

Vpon theſe eyes of thine, Ile ſet my foote.

Glen. He that will thinke to live, till he be old,

Give me ſome helpe, —— O cruell ! O you gods.

Reg. One fide will moſſe another : Th'other too.

Corn. If you ſee vengeance.

Serv. Hold your hand, my Lord ?

I have ſerv'd you ever ſince I was a Child :

But better ſervice have I never done you,
Then now to bid you hold.

Reg. How now, you dogge ?

Ser. If you did wearea beard upon your chin,

Iſd ſhake it on this quarrell. What doe you meane ?

Corn. My Villaine ?

Serv. Nay then come on, and take the chance of anger.

Reg. Give me thy Sword. A pezant ſtand up thus ?

Killes him.

Ser. Oh I am flaine : my Lord, you have one eye left
To ſee ſome miſchieſe on him. Oh.

Corn. Left it ſee more, prevent it ; Out vilde gelly :

Where is thy luſter now ?

Glen. All darke and comfortleſſe ?

Wheres my Sonne Edmund ?

Edmund, enkindle all the sparkes of Nature
To quit this horrid aſte.

Reg. Out treacherous Villaine,

Thou call'ſt on him, that hates thee. It was he
That made the overture of thy Treafons to us;
Who is too good to pitty thee.

Glen. O my ſollies ! then Edgar was abus'd,

Kind gods, forgiſe me that, and proper him.

Reg. Goe thruff him out at gates, and let him ſmell
His way to Dover.

Exit with Glofter.
How is't my Lord ? How looke you ?

Corn. I have receiv'd a hurt: Follow me Lady:
Turne out that eyeleſſe Villaine: throw this Slave
Vpon the Dunghill: Regan, I bleed apace,
Vntimely comes this hurt. Give me your arme. Exeunt.

Actus Quartus. Scæna Prima.

Enter Edgar.

Ed. Yet better thus, and knowne to be contemn'd,
Then ſtill contemn'd and flatter'd, to be worſt:
The loweſt, and moſt dejeſt thing of Fortune,
Stands ſtill in esperance, lives not in ſeare.
The lamentable change is from the beſt,
The worſt returnes to laughter. Welcome then,
Thou unſubſtantiall ayre that I embrace :
The wretch that thou haſt blowne unto the worſt,
Owes nothing to thy blatts.

Enter Gloſter, and an Oldman.

But who comes here ? My Father poorely led ?'
World, World, O World !

But that thy ſtrange mutations make us hate thee,
Life would not yeeld to age.

Oldman. O my good Lord, I have beene your Tenant,
And your Fathers Tenant, thefe ſoureſcelyeers.

Glen. Away, get thee away : good friend be gone,
Thy comforts can do me no good at all,
Thee they may hurt.

Oldman. You cannot ſee your way.

Glen. I have no way, and therefore want no eyes:
I ſtumbled when I faw. Full oft ſeene,
Our meanes ſecure us, and our meere dejeſts
Prove our Commodities. Oh deere Sonne Edgar,
The food of thy abufed fathers wrath :
Might I but live to ſee thee in my touch,
Ild ſay I had eyes againe.

Oldman. How now ? whoſt there?

Ed. O gods ! Who ist can ſay I am at worſt ?

I am worſt then ere I was.

Oldman. Tis poore mad Tom.

Ed. And worſt I may be yet: the worſt is not,
So long as we can ſay this is the worſt.

Oldman. Fellow, where goeſt ?

Glen. Is it a Beggar-man ?

Oldman. Madman, and beggar too.

Glen. He has ſome reaſon, eſſe he could not beg.
Ith'laſt nights ſtorme, I ſuch a fellow ſaw :
Which made me thinke a Man, a Worme. My Sonne
Came then into my mind, and yet my mind
Was then ſcarfe Friends with him.

I have heard more ſince :

As Flies to wanton Boyes, are we to th' gods,
They kill us for their ſport.

Ed. How should their be ?

Bad is the Trade that muſt play to foole ſorrow,
Ang'ring it ſelſe, and others. Bleſſe thee Maſter.

Glen. Is that the naked fellow ?

Oldman. I my Lord.

Glen. Get thee away : if for my ſake
Thou wilt ore-take us hence a mile or twaine
I'th'way toward Dover, doe it for ancient love,
And bring ſome covering for this naked Soule,
Which Ile intreato to leade me.

Oldman. Alacke fir, he is mad.

Glen.

Glen. The
When Ma
Doe as I bi
Above the
Old. I
Com on't,
Glen. S
Ed. Po
Glen. C
Ed. A
Bleſſe thy
Glen. K
Ed. Bo
poore Ton
thee good
Glen. H
Have hum
Makes the
Let the
That flav
Becan be
So diſtrib
And each n
Ed. I M
Glen. T
Looks ſea
Bring me
And Ile re
With ſome
I ſhall no le
Ed. G
Poore Tom

Gon. W
Not met us
Stew. M
I told him
He fini'd a
His anſwer
And of the
When I inſ
And told m
What moſt
What like,
Gon. Th
It is the
That dares
Which tye I
May prove
Hafen his
I muſt chan
Into my Hu
Shall pſe be
(If you dar
A Miſtreſſe
Decline you
Would fire
Conceive,
Bast, Y
Gon. My

The Tragedie of King Lear.

Darnell, and all the idle weedes that grow,
In our fuftaining Corne. A Centery tend forth;
Search every Acre in the high-growne field,
And bring him to our eye. What can mans wifedome
In the retorting his bereaved Senfe: he that helps him,
Take all my outward worth.

Gent. There is means Madam :
Our foster Nurfe of Nature, is repofe,
The which he lacke: that to provoke in him
Are many Simples operative, whose power
Will cleofe the eye of Anguifh.

Cord. All bleſt Secrets,
All you unpublifh'd Vertues of the earth
Spring with my teares; be aydant, and remediate
In the goodmans defires: feeke, feeke for him,
Left his ungovern'd rage, diffolue the life
That wants the meanes to leade it.

Enter Messanger.

Mef. Newes Madam,
The Brittifh Powers are marching hitherward.

Cord. Tis knowne before. Our preparation stands
In expectation of them. O deere father,
It is thy bufineſſe that I go about: therefore great France
My mourning, and importun'd ceares hath pittied :
No blowne Ambition doth our Armes incite,
But love, deere love, and our ag'd Fathers Rite:
Soone may I heare, and fee him.

Exeunt.

## Scena Quarta.

Enter Regan, and Steward.

Reg. But are my Brothers Powers fet forth?

Stew. I Madam,

Reg. Himſelfe in perſon there ?

Stew. Madam with much adoe.

Your Sifter is the better Souldier.

Reg. Lord Edmund (spake not with your Lord at home);
Stew. No Madam.

Reg. What might import my Sifters Letter to him?

Stew. I know not, Lady.

Reg. Faith he is poafed hence on ſerious matter :

It was great ignorance. Glouſters eyes being out
To let him live. Where he arrives, he moves
All hearts against us : Edmund, I thinke is gone

In pitty of his miſery, to diſpatch

His nighted life: Moreover to defery
The ſtrength oth' Enemy.

Stew. I muſt needs after him, Madam, with my Letter.

Reg. Our troops fet forth to morrow, ſtay with us :
The wayes are dangerous.

Stew. I may not Madam :

My Lady charg'd my duty in this bufineſſe.

Reg. Why ſhould the write to Edmund?

Might not you tranſport her purpofes by word ? Belike,
Some things, I know not what. Ile love thee much
Let me unſeale the Letter.

Stew. Madam, I had rather—

Reg. I know your Lady do's not love her husband,
I am ſure of that: and at her late being here,
She gave ſtrange Iliads, and moſt ſpaking lookes
To Noble Edmund. I know you are of her boſome.

Stew. I Madam ?

Reg. I ſpeak in underſtanding: Y'are: I know't,
T herefore I doe advife you take this note:
My Lord is dead: Edmund, and I have talk'd,
And more convenient is he for my hand
Then for your Ladies: You may gather more:
If you doe find him, pray you give him this,
And when your Miftris heares thus much from you,
I pray define her call her wifedome to her.

So fare you well :

If you doe chance to heare of that blinde Traitor,
Preferment falſ on him, that cuts him off.

Stew. Would I could meet him Madam, I should ſhow
What party I doe follow.

Reg. Fare thee well.

Exeunt.

## Scena Quinta.

Enter Glonconceſſer, and Edgar.

Glon. When ſhall I come to th' top of that fame hill?

Edg. You doe climbe up it now. Looke how we labour.

Glon. The ground is even.

Edg. Horrible ſkepe.

Hear ke, doe you heare the Sea?

Glon. No truly.

Edg. Why then your other Senſes grow imperfect

By your eyes anguifh,

Glon. So may it be indeed.

Me thinkes thy voyce is alter'd, and thou speak'ſt

In better ſraſe, and matter then thou didst.

Edg. Y'are much deceiv'd: in nothing am I chang'd

But in my Garments.

Glon. Me thinkes y'are better ſpoken.

Edg. Come on Sir,

Heeres the place: ſtand ſtill: how ſcarefull

And dizy tis, to caſt ones eyes ſo low,

The Crowes and Choughes, that wing the midway ayre

Shew ſcarſe ſo groſſe as Beetles. Halfe way downe

Hangs one that gathers Sampire: dreadfull Trade:

Me thinkes he ſeemes no bigger then his head.

The Fithermen, that walk'd upon the beach

Appeare like Mice: and yond tall Anchoring Barke,
Diminifh'd to her Cocke: her Cocke, a Buoy

Almoſt too ſmall for fight. The murmuring ſurge,
That on th' unnumbred idle Pebble chafes

Cannot be heard ſo high. He looke no more,

Left my braine turne, and the deficient fight

Topple downe headlong.

Glon. Set me where you ſtand.

Edg. Give me your hand :

You are now within a foete of th' extreme Verge:

For all beneath the Moone would I not leape upright.

Glon. Let goe my hand :

Heere friends another purſe: in it, a lewell

Well worth a poore mans taking. Fairies, and gods

Proſer it with thee. Goe thou further off,

Bid me farewell, and let me heare thee going.

Edg. Now fare ye well, good Sir.

Glon. With all my heart.

Edg. Why I doe trifle thus with his defpaire,
Is done to cure it.

Glon. O you mighty gods !

This world I doe renounce, and in your fights

Shake

The Tragedy of King Lear.

323

Shake patiently my great affliction off:

If I could beare it longer, and not fall

To quarrell with your great oppofeable willes,

My muffe, and loathed part of Nature should

Burne it selfe out. If Edgar live, O bleſſe him

Now fellow, fare thee well.

Ed. Good Sir, farewell.

And yet I know not how conceit may rob

The Treasure of life, when life it selfe

Yields to the Theft. Had he bin where he thought,

By this had thought bin pault. Alive, or dead?

Hoa, you Sir a friend, here you Sir, I speake :

Thus might he paffe indeed: yet he revives.

What arr you Sir?

Glon. Away, and let me dye.

Ed. Had it thou beene ought

But Cozemore, feathers and Ayre,

(So many fathome downe precipitating)

Thou'd it thriv'd like an Egge : but thou doft breath :

Hast heavy subſtance, bleed it not, ſpeak it, art found.

Ten Maſts at each, make not the altitude

Which thou haſt perpendicularly fell,

Thy lifes a Miracle. Speake yet againe.

Glon. But have I falne, or no ?

Ed. From the dread Summet of this Chalky Bourne

Looke up a height, the thrill-gor'd Larke fo farre

Cannot be ſene, or heard : Doe but looke up.

Glon. Alacke, I have no eyes :

Is wretchedneſſe depriv'd that benefit

To end it ſelfe by death ? I was yet ſome comfort,

When minifery could beguile the Tyrants rage,

And fruſtrate his proud will.

Ed. Give me your armes.

Vp to: How is't ? Feelc you your Legges? You ſtand.

Glon. Too well, too well.

Ed. This is above all ſtrangeneſſe,

Vpon the crowne oth' Cliffe. What thing was that

Which parted from you ?

Glon. A poore unfortune Beggar.

Ed. As I flood here below, me thought his eyes

Weretwo full Moones: he had a thouand Noſes,

Hornes weak'd, and waved like the enraged Sea :

It was ſome fiend : Therefore thou happy father,
Thinke that the cleereft gods, who make them honors'
Of mens Impoſabilities, have preferved thee.

Glon. I doe remember now : henceforth I beare

Affliction, till it doe cnyt it ſelfe

Enough, enough, and dye. That thing you ſpeake of,

I took it for a man : often twould ſay

The fiend, the Fiend, he led me to that place.

Ed. Beare free and patient thoughts.

Enter Lear.

But who comes here ?

The faſer ſenſe will ne're accommodate

His Maſter thus.

Lear. No, they cannot touch me for crying. I am the King himſelfe.

Ed. O thou ſide-piercing fight !

Lear. Natures above Art, in that reſpect. There's your Preſſe-money. That fellow handles his bow, like a Crow-keeper : draw me a Cloathiers yard. Looke, looke, a Mouſe: peace, peace, this piece of toſted Cheeſe will doot. There's my Gauntlet, Ile prove it on a Gyant. Bring up the browne Billes. O well ſlowne Bird : iſ this clour, iſ this clout: Hewgh. Give the word.

Ed. Sweet Marioram.

Lear. Paffe.

Glon. I know that voyce.

Lear. Ha! I Generall with a white beard ? They flatter'd me like a Dogge, and told me I had the white haires in my Beard, ere the blacke ones were there. To ſay I, and no, to every thing that I faid: I, and no too, was no good Divinity. When the raine came to wet me once, and wind to make me chatter: when the Thunder would not peace at my bidding, there I found em, there I fmelt em out. Goe to, they are not men other's words; they told me, I was every thing: Tis a Lye. I am not Agi'-proofe.

Glon. The tricke of that voyce, I doe well remember : Is't not the King ?

Lear. I, every inch a King.

When I doe ſtare, ſee how the ſubjeſt quakes.

I pardon that man's life. What was thy caufe ?

Adultery ? thou haſt not dye : dye for Adultery ?

No, the Wren goes too't, and the ſmall gilded Flye

Do's letcker in my fight. Let Copulation thrive :

For Glouſters baſtard Son was kinder to his father,

Then my Daughters got t'weene the law ſull fleets.

Too't LUXury pell-mell, for I lacke Souldiers.

Behold yond ſimpring Dame, whose face betweene her
Forkes prefages Snow; that minces Vertue, and dos ſake
the head to, hear of pleatures name. The Fitchew, nor
the ſoyléd horſe goes too't with a more riotous appe-
tite: downe from the waſte they are Centaures, though
Women all above : but to the Girdle doe the gods inhe-
rit, beneath is all the fiends. There's hell, there's darke-
neſſe, there is the fulphorous pit; burning, ſcalding, ſteach,
consumpſion : Fye, ſie, ſie : pah, pah : Give me a Quace
of Civet ; good Apothecary ſweeten my imagination :
There's money for thee.

Glon. O let me kiffle that hand.

Lear. Let me wipe it firſt,

It ſinelles of Mortality.

Glon. O ruin'd peecce of Nature, this great world

Shall ſo weare out to naught.

Do't thou know me ?

Lear. I remembcr thine eyes well enough : doſt thou ſquimy at me ? No, doe thy worſt blind Cupid, Ile not love. Reade thou this challenge, marke but the penning of it.

Glon. Were all thy Letters Sunnes, I could not ſee.

Ed. I would not take this from report,

It is, and my heart breaks at it.

Lear. Read.

Glon. What with the Cafe of eyes ?

Lear, Oh ho, are you there with me? No eyes in your
head, nor no mony in your purſe? Your eyes are in a hea-
vy cafe, your purſe in a light, yet you ſee how this world
goes.

Glon. I ſee it feelingly.

Lear. What, art mad ? A man may ſee how this world
goes, with no eyes. Looke with thine eares: See how
yond Iuſtice railes upon yond ſimple theefe. Hearke in
thine eare: Change places, and handy-dandy, which is
the Iuſtice, which is the theefe: Thou haſt ſeene a Far-
mers dogge barke at a Beggar ?

Glon. I Sir.

Lear. And the Creaſure run from the Cur: there thou
mightſt behold the great image of Authority, a Dogg's
obey'd in Office. Thou, Raſcall Beadle, hold thy bloody
hand: why doſt thou laſh that Whore ? Strip thy owne
backe, thon hotly luſts to ſe her in that kind, for which
thou whipſt her. The Vſurer hangs the Cozener. Tho-
rough

rough

The Tragedy of King Lear.

The knowledge of themselves.

Edg. Give me your hand :

Farre off me thinkes I heare the beaten Drumme.

Come father, Ile beftow you with a friend.

Exeunt.

## Scæna Septima.

Enter Cordelia, Kent, and Gentleman.

Cor. O thou good Kent,

How shall I live and worke

To match thy godneffe ?

My life will be too short,

And every meafure faile me.

Kent. To be acknowledg'd Madam is ore-pay'd,

All my reports goe with the modeft truth,

Nor more, nor clipt, but so.

Cor. Be better fuited,

Thefe weedes are memories of thofe worfer houres :

I prethee put them off.

Kent. Pardon deere Madam,

Yet to be knowne shortens my made intent,

My boone I make it, that you know me not,

Till time, and I, thinke meet.

Cor. Then be't to my good Lord :

How does the King ?

Gent. Madam fleepes ftill.

Cor. O you kind Gods !

Cure this great breach in his abufed Nature,

Th'tun't and jarring fenfes, O winde up,

Of this child-changed Father.

Gent. So pleafe my Majefty.

That we may wake the King, he hath flept long ?

Cor. Be govern'd by your knowledge, and proceede

I' th'way of your owne will : is he array'd ?

Enter Lear in a chaire carried by Servants.

Gent. I Madam : in the heavineffe of fleepe,
We put fresh garments on him.

Be by good Madam when we doe awake him,

I doubt of his Temperance,

Cor. O my deere father, reftauration hang

Thy medicine on my lippes, and let this kife

Repaire thofe violent harmes, that my two Sifters

Have in thy Reverence made.

Kent. Kind and deere Princeffe.

Cor. Had you not bin their father, thefe white flakes
Did challenge pitty of them. Was this a face

To be oppos'd againſt the jarring windes?

Mile Enemies dogge, though he had bit me,

Should have flood that night againſt my fire,

And was't thou faine (poore Father)

To hovell thee with Swine and Rogues forlorne,

In ſhort, and muſt ſtraw ? Alacke, alacke,

Tis wonder that thy life and wits, at once

Had not concluded all.' He wakes, (peake to him.

Gent. Madam doe you, tis fitteft.

Cor. How does my Royall Lord ?

How fares your Majeſt?

Lear. You doe me wrong to take me out oth'grave;

Thou art a Soule in blifſe, but I am bound

Upon a wheele of fire, that mine owne teares
Doe ſcald, like molten Lead.

Cor. Sir, doe you know me ?

Lear. You are a ſpirit I know, where did you dye?

Cor. Still, ſtill, farre wide.

Gen. Hes ſcarſe awake,

Let him alone a while.

Lear. Where have I bin ?

Where am I ? faire day light ?

I am mightily abus'd ; I ſhould ev'n dye with pitty

To fee another thus. I know not what to ſay :

I will not ſware theſe are my hands : lets fee,

I feele this pin pricke, would I were affur'd

Of my condition,

Cor. O looke upon me Sir,

And hold your hand in benediction o're me,

You muſt not kneele.

Lear. Pray doe not mocke me :

I am a very fooliſh ſond old man,

Fourſcore and upward,

Not an houre more, nor leſſe :

And to deale plainly,

I feare I am not in my perfect mind.

Me thinkes I ſhould know you, and know this man.

Yet I am doubtfull : for I am mainly ignorant

What place this is, and all the skill I have

Remembers not theſe garments : nor I know not

Where I did lodge laſt night. Doe not laugh at me,

For (as I am a man) I thinke this Lady

To be my child Cordelia.

Cor. And so I am: I am,

Lear. Be your teares wet ?

Yes faith : I pray weepe not.

If you have poyſon for mee, I will drinke it :

I know you doe not love me, for your Sifters

Have (as I doe remember) done we wrong.

You have ſome caufe, they have not,

Cor. No caufe, no caufe.

Lear. Am I in France?

Kent. In your owne kingdome Sir,

Lear. Doe not abufe me.

Gent. Be comforted good Madam, the great rage

You fee is kill'd in him : define him to goe in,

Trouble him no more till further fetling.

Cor. Wilt pleafe you highneſſe walke ?

Lear. You muſt beare with me :

Pray you now forſe, and forgive,

I am old and fooliſh.

Exeunt.

Enter with Drumme and Colours, Edmund, Regan,
Gentlemen, and Souldiers.

Bast. Know of the Duke if his laſt purpose hold,

Or whether ſince he is advis'd by ought

To change the courſe, hes ſull of alteration,

And ſelſe reproving, bring his conſant pleafure.

Reg. Our Sifters man is certainly miſcarried.

Bast. Tis to be doubted Madam.

Reg. Now fweet Lord,

You

The Tragedie of King Lear.

You know the goodneſſe I intend upon you :
Tell me but truly, but then ſpeake the truth.
Doe you not love my Sifter ?

Baſſ. In honour'd Love.

Reg. But have you never found my Brothers way,
To the fore-fended place ?

Bass. No by mine honor, Madam.

Reg. I never ſhall endure her, deere my Lord,
Be not familiar with her.

Bass. Feare not, ſhe and the Duke her husband.

Enter with Drum and Colours, Albany, Gonerill, Souldiers.

Alba. Our very loving Sifter, well be-met :
Sir, this I heard, the King is come to his Daughter
With others, whom the rigour of our State
Fore'd to cry out.

Regan. Why is this reaſon ?

Gon. Combine together gainſt the Enemy :
For theſe domeſticke and particular broiles,
Are not the queſtion heere.

Alb. Lets then determine with th'ancient of warre
On our proceeding.

Reg. Sifter youle goe with us ?

Gon. No.

Reg. Tis moſt convenient, pray goe with us.

Gon. Oh, ho, I know the Riddle, I will goe.

Exeunt both the Armies.

Enter Edgar.

Ed. If ere your Grace had ſpeech with man ſo poore,
Heare me one word.

Alb. Ile overtake you, I ſpeake.

Ed. Before you fight the Battaille, ope this Letter :
If you have victory, let the Trumpet found
For him that brought it : wretch though I ſeeme,
I can produce a Champion, that will prove
What is avouched there. If you mil carry,
Your buſineſſe of the world hath ſo an end,
And machination ceaſes. Fortune loves you.

Alb. Stay till I have read the Letter.

Ed. I was forbid it :

When time shall ſerve, let but the Herald cry.

And Ile appear againe.

Exiſ

Alb. Why fare thee well, I will o're-looke thy paper.

Enter Edmund.

Baſſ. The Enemy's in view, draw up your powers,
Heere is the gueſſe of their true ſtrength and forces,
By diligent discovery, but your haſt

Is now urg'd on you.

Alb. We will greet the time.

Exiſ

Baſſ. To both theſe Sifters have I ſworne my love :
Each jealous of the other, as the ſtung
Are of the Adder. Which of them ſhall I take ?
Both ? One ? Or neither ? Neither can be enjoy'd
If both remaine alive : To take the Widdow,
Exaſſerates, makes mad her Sifter Gonerill,
And hardly ſhall I carry out my ſide,

Her husband being alive. Now then, we'll uſe
His countenance for the Battaille, which being done,
Let her who would be rid of him, devife
His ſpeedy taking off. As for the mercy
Which he intends to Lear and to Cordelia,
The Battaille done, and they within our power;

Shall never fee his pardon : for my ſtate,
Stands on me to defend, not to debate.

Exit.

Scena Secunda.

Alarum within. Enter with Drum and Colours, Lear, Cordelia, and Souldiers, over the Stage, and Exeunt.

Enter Edgar, and Gloſter.

Ed. Heere Father, take the ſhadow of this Tree
For your good haſt: pray that the right may thrive :
If ever I returne to you againe,
Ile bring you comfort.

Gl. Grace goe with you Sir.

Exit.

Alarum and Retreat within.

Enter Edgar.

Ed. Away old man, give me thy hand. away :
King Lear hath loft, he and his Daughter tane,
Give me thy hand. Come on.

Glo. No further Sir, a man may rot even heere.

Ed. What in ill thoughts againe ?

Men muſt endure

Their going hence, even as their comming hither,
Ripeneſſe is all, come on.

Glo. And that's true too.

Exeunt.

Scena Tertia.

Enter in conquelt with Drums and Colours, Edmund, Lear, and Cordelia, as prisoners, Souldiers, Captuſe.

Baſſ. Some Officers take them away : good guard,
Vntill their greater pleafures firſt be knowne.

That are to cenſure them.

Cor. We are not the firſt,

Who with beſt meaning have incurr'd the worſt :

For thee oppreſſed King I am caſt downe.

My ſelſe could eſſe out-ſrowne falſe Fortunes ſrowne.

Shall we not fee theſe Daughters, and theſe Sifters?

Lear. No, no, no, no : come lets away to prifon :
We two alone will ſing like Birds i' th' Cage :

When thou doſt aske me bleſſing, Ile kneele downe

And aske of thee forgiſeneſſe : So we'll live,

And pray, and ſing, and tell old tales, and laugh

At gilded Butterflies : and heare poore Rogues

Taik of Court newes, and we'll talkd with them too,

Who looſes, and who wins; whos in, whos out :

And take upon the myſtery of things,

As if we were God's ſpies : And we'll weare out

In a wall'd prifon, packes and feſts of great ones
That ebbe and flow by th' Moone.

Baſſ, Take them away.

Lear, Vpon ſuch ſacriſces my Cordelia,
The gods themſelves throw incenſe.
Have I caught thee ?

He that parts us, ſhall bring a Brand from heaven,

And fire us hence, like Foxes : wipe thine eye,

The good yeeres ſhall devoure them, fleſh and ſell,

Ere

The Tragedy of King Lear.

Ere they shall make us weepe ?

Weele fee e'm flarv'd first: come.

Baſt. Come hither Captaine, hearke.

Exit.

Take thou this note, goe follow them to prifon,
One ftop I have advanc'd thee, if thou doft
As this inſtructs thee, thou doſt make thy way
To Noble Fortunes: know thou this, that men
Are as the time is; to be tender minded

Does not become a Sword, thy great employment
Will not beare question : either ſay thou'lt do't,
Orthrive by other meanes,

Capt. Ile dot my Lord.

Baſt. About it, and write happy, when th'haſt done,
Marke I lay infantly, and carry it to

As I have fet it downe.

Exit Captaine.

Enter *Albany, Gonerill, Regan, Souldiers*.

Alb. Sir, you have ſhew'd to day your valiant ſtraine
And fortune led you well: you have the Captives
Who were the oppofites of this dayes ſtrife:
I do require them of you to uſe them,
As we shall find their merits, and our safety
May equally determine.

Baſt. Sir, I thought it fit,
To ſend the old and miferable King to ſome retention,
Whofe age had Charmes in it, whoſe Title more,
To plucke the common boſome on his ſide,
And turne our impreſt Launces in our eyes
Which doe command them. With him I ſent the Queene
My reaſon all the fame, and they are ready
To morrow, or at further ſpace, t'appeare
Where you ſhall hold your ſeſſion.

Alb. Sir, by your patience.

I hold you but a ſubject of this Warre,
Not as a brother.

Reg. That's as we lift to grace him.

Methinks our pleafure might have bin demanded
Ere you had ſpke ſo farre. He led our Powers,
Bore the Commiffion of my place and perſon,
The which immediacy may well ſtand up,
And call it ſelſe your Brother.

Gon. Not ſo hot :

In hisowne grace he doth exalt himſelfe,
More then in your addition.

Reg. In my rights,

By me inſteemed, he compeeres the beſt.

Alb. That were the moſt, if he ſhould husband you.

Reg. Ieſters doe oft prove Prophets.

Gon. Holla, holla,

That eye that told you ſo, look'd but a ſquint.
Rega. Lady I am not well, eſſe I ſhould anſwer

From a full flowing ſtomacke. Generall,

Takethou my ſouldiers, prifoners, patrimony,
Dilpofe of them, of me, the walls are thine :

Wineſſe the world, that I create thee heere
My Lord, and Maſter.

Gon. Meane you to enjoy him ?

Alb. The let alone lies nor in your good will.

Bast. Nor in thine Lord.

Alb. Halſe-blooded ſellow, yes.

Reg. Let the Drum ſtrike, and prove my title thine.

Alb. Stay yet, beare reaſon : Edmund, I arreſt thee
On capitall Treaſon; and in thy arreſt,

This guilded Serpent: for your claime ſaire Sifters,
I bare it in the intereſt of my wife,

Tis he is ſub-contracted to this Lord,

And I her husband contradict your Banes.
If you will marry, make your loves to me,
My Lady is beſpoke.

Gon. An enterlude.

Alb. Thou art armed Gloſter,

Let the Trumpet found :

If none appeare to prove upon thy perſon,
Thy heynous, manifeſt, and many Treaſons,
There is my pledge : Ile make it on thy heart
Ere I taſte bread, thou art in nothing leſſe
Then I have heere proclaim'd thee.

Reg. Sicke, O ſicke.

Gon. If not, Ile nere truſt medicine.

Bast. There's my exchange, what in the world he is
That names me Traitor, villaine-like he lyes,
Call by the Trumpet : he that dares approach;
On him, on you, who not, I will maintaine
My truth and honor firmly.

Enter a Herald.

Alb. A Herald, ho.

Truſt to thy ſingle vertue, for thy Souldiers
All levi'd in my name, have in my name
Tooke their diſcharge.

Regan. My ſickeneſſe growes upon me.

Albany: She is not well, convey her to my Tent,
Come hither Herald, let the Trumpet found,
And read out this.

Herald reads.

A Trumpet founds.

I
F any man of quality or degree within the lifts of the Ar-
my, will maintain me upon Edmund suppoſed Earle of Glo-
ster, that he is a manifold Traitor, let him appeare by the third
found of the Trumpet: he is bold in his defence. 2 Trumpet.

Her. Againe.
Her. Againe.

2 Trumpet.
3 Trumpet.

Trumpet answers within.

Enter *Edgar armed,*

Alb. Aske him his purpofes, why he appeares

Vpon this Call o'ch'Trumpet.

Her. What are you ?

Your name, your quality, and why you anſwer
This prefent Summons?

Edg. Know my name is loft

By Treaſons tooth: bare-gnawne, and Canker-bit,
Yet am I Noble as the Adverfary
I come to cope.

Alb. Which is that Adverfary ?

Edg. What's he that ſpeakes for Edmund Earle of Glo-
Bast. Himſelfe, what faitl thou to him ? (ſter ?

Edg. Draw thy Sword.

That if my ſpeech offend a Noble heart,
Thy arme may doe thee Inſtice, heere is maine :

Behold it is my privilege,

The privilege of mine honours,

My oath, and my profeflion. I proteſt,

Maugre thy ſtrength, place, youth, and eminence,

Defpite thy viftor-Sword, and fire new fortune,

Thy valor, and thy heart, thou art a Traitor :

Falſe to thy gods, thy brother, and thy father,

Conſpirant gainſt this high illuſtrious Prince,

And from th'extremest upward of thy head,

To the diſcent and duſt below thy foote,

A

The Tragedy of King Lear.

A moft Toad-spotted Traitor. Say thou no,
This Sword, thisarme, and my beſpirits are bent
To prove upon thy heart, whereto I ſpeake,
I thou lyeſt.

Bast. In wifedome I should aske thy name,
But ſince thy outſide looks ſo faire and Warlike,
And that thy tongue (fome ſay) of breeding breathe,
What ſafe, and nicely I might well delay,
By rule of Knight-hood, I dildaine and ſpurne :
Backe doe I toſie theſe Trefaons to thy head,
With the hell-hated Lye, ore-whelme thy heart,
Which for they yet glance by, and ſcarcely bruiſe,
This Sword of mine ſhall give them inſant way,
Where they ſhall reſt for ever. Trumpets ſpeake.

Alb. Save him, fave him.

Alarums. Fights.

Gen. This is practise Gloſter,

By th'law of Warre, thou waſt not bound to anſwer
An unknown e oppoſite : thou art not vanquifh'd,
But cozend, and beguild.

Alb. Shut your mouth Dame,

Or with this paper ſhall I ſtop it: hold Sir,
Thou worſe then any name, reade thine owne evill :
No tearing Lady, I perceive you know it.

Gon. Say if I doe, the Lawes are mine not thine,
Who can araigne me for t?

Exit.

Alb. Moſt monſtrey ! O, knowſt thou this paper ?

Bast. Aske me not what I know.

Alb. Goe after her, ſhes desperate, governe her.

Bast. What you have charg'd me with,
That have I done.

And more, much more, the time will bring it out.
Tis paſt, and ſo am I : But what art thou
That haſt this fortune on me ? If thou'rt Noble,
I doe forgive thee.

Edg. Lets exchange charity :

I am no leſſe in blood then thou art Edmund,
If more, the more th'haſt wrong'd me.

My name is Edgar and thy Fathers ſonne,
The gods are juſt, and of our pleafant vices
Make inſtruments to plague us :

The darke and vitious place where thee he got,
Coſt him his eyes.

Bast. Th'haſt ſpoken right, tis true,

The Wheelc is come full circle, I am heere.

Alb. Me thought thy very gate did prophefie

A Royall Noblenſe: I muſt embrace thee,
Let ſorrow ſplit my heart, if ever I
Did hate thee, or thy father.

Edg. Worthy Prince I knowt.

Alb. Where have you hid your ſelfe ?

How have you knowne the miſeries of your father ?

Edg. By nurſing them my Lord. Lift a briefe tale,
And when tis told, O that my heart would burſt.

The bloody proclamation to eſcape

That follow'd me ſo neere, (O our lives ſweetneſſe,
That we the paine of death would hourly dye,
Rather then dye at once) taught me to ſhift
Into a mad-mans ragges, t'allume a ſemblance
That very Dogges diſdain'd: and in this habit
Met I my father with his bleeding Rings,

Their precious S toones new loft: became his guide,
Led him, begg'd for him, fav'd him from diſpaire.
Never (O ſault) reveal'd my ſelfe unto him,
Vntill ſome halfe houre paſt when I was arm'd,
Not ſure, though hoping of this good ſucceſſe,
I ask'd his bleſſing, and from firſt to laſt

Told him our pilgrimage. But his flawd heart
(Alacke too weake the conflict to ſupport)
Twixt two extremes of paffion, joy and griefe,
Burſt smilingly.

Bast. This ſpeech of yours haſt mov'd me,
And ſhall perchance do good, but ſpeake you on,
You looke as you had ſomethine more to ſay.

Alb. If there be more, more wofull, hold it in,
For I am almoſt ready to diſolve,
Hearing of this.

Enter a Gentleman.

Gen. Helpe, helpe; O helpe.

Edg. What kind of helpe ?

Alb. Speake man.

Edg. What meanes this bloody Knife ?

Gen. Tis hot, it ſmoakes, came even from the heart
of— O ſhes dead.

Alb. Who dead ? Speake man.

Gen. Your Lady Sir, your Lady; and her Sifter
By her is poyſond: ſhe confefſes it.

Bast. I was contracted to them both, all three
Now marry in an inſant.

Edg. Here comes Kent.

Enter Kent.

Alb. Produce the bodies, be they alive or dead i

Gonerill and Regans bodies brought out,

This judgement of the heavens that makes us tremble.

Touches us not with pitty. O is this ſhe?

The time will not allow the complement

Which very manners urges.

Kent. I am come

To bid my King and Maſter aye good night,
Is he not here ?

Alb. Great thing of us forgot,
Speake Edmund, wheres the King? and wheres Cordelia?

See ſt thou this object Kent.

Kent. Alacke, why thus ?

Bast. Yet Edmund was beſtov'd :

The one the other poioſn'd for my ſake,
And after flew herſelfe.

Alb. Even ſo: cover their faces.

Bast. I pante for life: ſome good I meane to doe
Deſpight of mine owne Nature. Quickly ſend,
(Be briefe in it) to th'Chaſtle for my Writ
Is on the life of Lear, and on Cordelia :

Nay, ſend in time.

Alb. Run, run, O run.

Edg. To whom my Lord ? Who has the Office?

Send thy roken of repreeve.

Bast. Well thought on, take my Sword,
Give it the Captaine.

Edg. Haſt thee for thy life.

Bast. He hath Commission from thy Wife and me,
To hang Cordelia in the prifon, and
To lay the blame upon her owne diſpaire,
That ſhe fore-did her ſelfe.

Alb. The gods defend her, beare him hence a while.

Enter Lear with Cordelia in his armes.

Lear. Howle, howle, howle: O your are men of ſtones,
Had I your tongues and eyes, I'ld uſe them ſo,
That heavens vault ſhould cracke: ſhes gone for ever.
I know when one is dead, and when one lives,
Shes dead as earth: Lend me a Looking-gladeſſe,

If

If that her
Why then
Kent. I
Edg. O
Alb. F
Lear. T
It is a
That ever
Kent. G
Lear. P
Edg. T
Lear. A
I might ha
Cordelia,
What is it
Gentle, an
I kill'd the
Kent. T
Lear. D
I have feen
I would ha
And thefe
Mine eyes
Kent. I
One of the
Lear.
Kent.
Where is he
Lear. H
Hee'l ſtrik
Kent. X
Lear.
Kent.
Hane follo
Lear. Y
Kent. N
All's chee
Your elde
And deſpe
Lear. I
Alb. H

The Tragedy of King Lear.

If that her breath will mift or ftaine the ftone,
Why then ſhe lives.

Kent. Is this the promis'd end ?

Edg. Or image of that horror.

Alb. Fall and ceafe.

Lear. This feather flirs, ſhe lives : if it be so,
It is a chance which doe's redeem all sorrows
That ever I have felt.

Kent. O my good Maſter.

Lear. Prythee away.

Edg. Tis noble Kent your Friend.

Lear. A plague upon you murtherers, Traitors all,
I might have fav'd her, now ſhe's gone for ever :
Cordelia, Cordelia, ſtay a little. Ha.

What is't thou faift ? her voyce was ever soft,
Gentle, and low, an excellent thing in woman.
I kill'd the slave that was a hanging thee,

Gents. Tis true (my Lords) he did.

Lear. Did I not fellow ?

I have feene the day, with my good biting Fauchion
I would have made him skip : I am old now,
And these fame croſſes (poyle me. Who are you ?
Mine eyes are o'th'beſt, Ile tell you ſtraight.

Kent. If Fortune brag of two, ſhe lov'd and hated,
One of them we behold.

Lear. This is a dull fight, are you not Kent ?

Kent. The fame : your ſervant Kent,

Where is your ſervant Caius ?

Lear. He's good fellow, I can tell you that,

He'll ſtrike and quickly too, he's dead and rotten.

Kent. No my good Lord, I am the very man.

Lear. Ile fee that ſtraight.

Kent. That from your firſt of difference and decay,
Hane follow'd your ſad ſteps.

Lear. You are welcome hither.

Kent. Nor no man else :

All's cheereleſſe, darke, and deadly,
Your eldeſt daughters have fore-done themselves,
And desperately are dead.

Lear. I ſo I thinke.

Alb. He knowes not what he ſayes, and vaine is it

That we preſent us to him.

Enter a Messenger.

Edg. Very bootleſſe.

Mes. Edmund is dead my Lord.

Alb. That's but a trifle here :

You Lords and Noble friends know our intent,
What comfort to this great decay may come,
Shall be appl'd. For us we will reſigne,
During the life of this old Majety

To him our abſolute power, you to your rights,
With boot, and ſuch addition as your honours
Have more then merited. All Friends ſhall
Tafe the wages of their vertue, and all Foes
The cup of their defervings : O fee, fee.

Lear. And my poore Foole is hang'd : No, no, no life ?
Why should a Dog, a Horſe, a Rat have life,
And thou no breath at all ? Thou'lt come no more,
Never, never, never, never, never.

Pray you undoe this Button. Thanke you Sir,
Doe you fee this ? Looke on her, looke on her lips,
Looke there, looke there.

He dyes.

Edg. He faints, my Lord, my Lord.

Kent. Breake heart, I prythee breake.

Edg. Looke to my Lord.

Kent. Vex not his ghoff, O let him paffe, he hates him,
That would upon the wracke of this tough world
Stretch him out longer.

Edg. He is gone indeed.

Kent. The wonder is, he hath endur'd ſo long,
He but uſurpt his life.

Alb. Beare them from hence, our preſent buſineſſe
Is generall woe : Friends of my ſoule, you twaine,
Rule in this Realme, and the gor'd ſtate ſuſtaine.

Kent. I have a journey firſ, ſhortly to goe,
My Maſter cals me, I muſt not ſay no.

Dyes.

Edg. The waſht of this ſad time we muſt obey,
Speake what we feele, not what we ought to ſay :
The oldeſt hath borne moſt, we that are yong,
Shall never fee ſo much, nor live ſo long,

Exeunt with a dead march.

F I N I S.

vv

330

THE TRAGEDY OF
Othello, the Moore of Venice.

Actus Primus. Scena Prima.

Enter Roderigo and Iago.

Roderigo.

Ever tell me, I take it very unkindly
That thou (Iago) who hatt had my purfe, (this
As if the strings were thine, should'it know of
Iago. But you'not heare me. If ever I did
Of such a matter, abhorre me.
(dramc

Rodo. Thou told'ft me,
Thou didft hold him in thy hate.

Iago. Despife me

If I doe not. Three great ones of the Citie,
(In perfonall fuit to make me his Lievtenant):
Off-capt to him: and by the faith of man
I know my price, I am worth no wofe a place.
But he(as loving his owne pride,and purpoles)
Evades them, with a Bumbaft Circumftance,
Horridly fluft with Epithites of warre,
Non-fuites my Mediators. For certes,fayes he,
I have already chofe my Officer. And what was he?

Forfooth, a great Arithmetician,
One Michael Caffio, a Florentine,

(A Fellow almoft damn'd in a faire wife)
That never fet a Squadron in the Field,
Nor the divifion of a battaile knowes
More than a Spinfter: Vnleſſe the Bookiſh Theoricke:
Wherein the Tongued Conſuls can propofe
As Maſterly as he, Meere prattle (without pradife)
Is all his Souldierſhip. But he (Sir) had th'election
And I (of whom his eyes had ſeene the proofe
At Rhodes, at Cyprus, and on others grounds
Chriften'd, and Heathen) muſt be be-leed, and calm'd
By Debitor, and Creditor. This Counter-Cafter,

He (in good time) muſt his Lievtenant be,
And I (bleſſe the marke) his Mooreſhips Ancien.

Rod. By heaven, I rather would have been his hang-
Iago. Why, there's no remedy,
(man

Tis the curſe of Service;

Preferment goes by Letter, and affection,
And not by old gradation, where each fecond
Stood heire to th'firſt. Now fir, be Iudge your ſelfe,
Whether I in any juſt terme am Aſſir'n'd

To love the Moore?

Rod. I would not follow him then.

Iago. O Sir, content you.

I follow him to ſerve my turne upon him.

We cannot all be Maſters, nor all Maſters

Cannot be truely follow'd. You ſhall marke
Many a dutious and knee-crooking Knave;
That(doting on his owne obſequious bondage)
Weares our his time, much like his Maſters Aſſe,
For neught but Provender,& when he's old Caſheer'd,
Whip me much honet Knaves. Others there are
Who trim'd in Formes, and viſages of duty.

Keepe yet their hearts attending on themſelves.
And throwing but ſhowes of ſervice on their Lords,
Doe well thrive by them.

And when they have lin'd their Coates'
Doe themſelues Homage.

Theſe Fellows have ſome ſoule,
And ſuch a one doe I proſeſſe my ſelfe. For (fir)

It is as ſure as you are Roderigo,
Were I the Moore, I would not be Iago :

In following him, I follow but my ſelfe.

Heaven is my Iudge, not I, for love and duty,
But ſeeming ſo, for my peculiar end :

For when my outward action doth demonſtrate
The native act, and figure of my heart
In complement externe,'tis not long after
But I will weare my heart vpon my ſleeve
For Dawes to pecke at; I am not what I am.

Rod. What a fall Fortune do's the thickc-lips owe
If he can carry't thus ?

Iago. Call up her father :
Rowſe him, make after him, poyſon his delight,
Proclaime him in the flects. Incenſe her kinfemen,
And though he in a fertile Clymate dwell,
Plague him with Flyes : though that his joy be joy,
Yet throw ſuch chances of vexation on't,
As it may loofe ſome colour.

Rod. Here is her fathers ſhouſe, He call alaud.

Iago. Doe, with like timorous accent, and dire yell,
As when (by night and negligence) the fire
Is ſpied in populous Cities.

Rod. What hoa : Brabantio, Signior Brabantio, hoa.

Iago. Awake, what hoa, Brabantio : Theeves, theeves,
Looke to your ſhouſe, your Daughter, and your Bags,
Theeves, theeves.

Bra. Above. What is the reaſon of this terrible
Summons ? what is the matter there?

Rodo. Signior, is all your Familie within ?

Iago. Are your doores lock'd ?

Bra. Why ? wherefore aske you this?

Iago. Sir, y'are robb'd, for ſhame put on your Gowne,
Your

the Moore of Venice.

331

Your heart is burft, you have loft halfe your foule
Even now, now, very now an old blacke Ram
Is tupping your white Ewe. Arife, arife,
Awake the forting Citizens without the Bell,
Or else the Divell will make a Grand-fire of you.
Arife I fay.

Bra. What, have you loft your wits ?

Red. Moft reveren Signior, do you know my voyce?

Bra. Not I : what are you?

Red. My name is *Rodorigo*.

Bra. The worfer welcome :

I have charg'd thee not to haunt about my doores :
In honest plaineneſſe thou haſt heard me ſay,
My Daughter is not for thee. And now in madneſſe
(Being full of ſupper, and diſtempering draughts)
Upon malicious knavery, doſt thou come
To ſtart my quiet.

Red. Sir, Sir, Sir.

Bra. But thou muſt needs be ſure,
My ſpirits and my place have in their power
To make this bitter to thee.

Red. Patience good Sir.

Bra. What tell it thou me of Robbing?

This is Venice : my house is not a Grange.

Red. Moſt grave Brabanſis,

In ſimle and pure ſoule, I come to you.

Ig. Sir, you are one of thofe that will not ſerve God,
if the Divell bid you. Because we come to do you ſervice,
and you thinke we are Ruffians, you'l have your Daugh-
ter cover'd with a Barby horſe, you'l have your Ne-
phewes neigh to you, you'le have Courſers for Cozens :
and Gennets for Germans.

Bra. What prophane wretch art thou?

Ig. I am one Sir, that comes to tell you, your Daugh-
ter and the Moore, are making the Beaſt with two backs.

Bra. Thou art a Villaine.

Iago. You are a Senator.

Bra. This thou ſhalt anſwer. I know thee *Rodorigo*.

Rod. Sir, I will anſwer any thing. But I beſeech you
If't be your pleafure, and moſt wife conſent,
(As partly I find it is) that your faire Daughſter,
At thisodde Even and dull watch o'th'night
Transported with no worſer nor better guard,
But with a Knave of common hire, a Gundelier,
To the groſſe clafes of a Laſcivious Moore :
If this be knowne to you, and your Allowance,
We then have done you bold and ſawcy wrongs.
But if you know not this, my manners tell me,
We have your wrong rebuke. Doe not believe
That from the ſenſe of all Civiltie,
I thus would play and trifle with your Revereance.

Your daughter (if you have not given her leave)
Iay againe, hath made a groſſe revolt,
Tying her Duty, Beauty, Wit, and Fortunes
In an extravagant, and wheeling Stranger,
Of here, and every where: ſtraight fatſiſe your ſelfe.
If ſhe be in your Chamber, or your houſe,
Let loofe on me the Inſtice of the ſtate
For thus deluding you.

Bra. Strike on the Tender, hou :
Give me a Taper : call up all my people,
This Accident is not unlike my dreame,
Belieſe of it oppreſſes me already.

Light, I ay, light.

Iago. Farewell : for I muſt leave you.

It ſeemes not meet, nor wholſome to my place

To be produſed, as if I ſtay, I ſhall.)

Againſt the Moore. For I doe know the ſtate,
(How ever this may gall me with ſome chcke)
Cannot with safety caſt him. For he's imbark'd
With ſuch loud reaſon to the Cyprus warres,
(Which even now ſtands in Act) that for their ſoules
Another of his Fadome, they have none,
To lead their Bufineſſe. In which regard,
Though I doe hate him as I doe hell,
Yet, for neceſſity of preſent life,
I muſt ſhow out a Flag, and ſigne of Love,
(Which is indeed but ſigne) that you ſhal ſurely find him
Lead to the Sagitary the raiſed Search :
And there will I be with him. So farewell.

Exiſ.

Enter Brabantio, with Servants and Torches:

Bra. It is too true an evill. Gone ſhe is,
And what's to come of my deſpited time,
Is naught but bitterneſſe. Now *Rodorigo*,
Where didſt thou fee her ? (Oh unhappy Girl)
With the Moore faſt thou ? (Who would be a Father ?)
How didſt thou know twas ſhe ? (Oh ſhe deceives me
Paſt thought : ) what faſt ſhe to you ? Get moe Tapers :
Raife all my Kinred. Are they married thinke you ?

Rod. Truly I thinke they are.

Bra. Oh heaven: how got ſhe out ?
Oh treaſon of my blood.

Fathers, from hence truſt not your Daughters minds
By what you fee them Act. Are there not charmes,
By which the property of Youth and Maidhood
May be abus'd ? Have you not read *Rodorigo*,
Of ſome ſuch thing ?

Rod. Yes fir : I have indeed.

Bra. Call up my brother: oh would you had had her,
Some one way, ſome another. Doe you know
Where we may apprehend her, and the Moore ?

Rod. I thinke I can diſcover him, if you pleafe
To get good Guard, and goe along with me.

Bra. Pray you lead on. At every houſe I lie call,
(I may command at moſt) get Weapons (hoa)
And raife ſome ſpeciall Officers of might :

On good *Rodorigo*, I will deferve your paines. Exeunt.

## Scena Secunda.

Enter Othello, Iago, Attendants, with Torches.

Iago. Though in the trade of warre I have ſlaine men,
Yet doe I hold it very ſtuffe o'th'conclience
To doe no contriv'd murder : I lake iniquitie
Sometime to doe me ſervice. Nine, or ten times
I had thought to have yerk'd him here under the Ribbes.

Othel. This better as it is.

Iago. Nay but he prated,
And spoke ſuch ſcurvy, and provoking termes
Againſt your honor, that with the little godlineſſe I have
I did full hard forbeare him. But I pray you fir,
Are you ſaſt married ? Be aſſur'd of this,
That the Magnifico is much belov'd,
And hath in his effect a voyce potentiall
As double as the Dukes : He will divorce you.
Or put upon you, what restraint or grievance,

vv 2

Th

The Tragedy of Othello

332

The Law (with all his might, to enforce it on)
Will give him Cable.

*Othel*. Let him doe his spight ;
My fervices, which I have done the Signory
Shall out-tongue his complaints. Tis yet to know,
Which when I know, that boafing is an honour,
I fhall promulgate. I fetch my life and being,
From men of Royall Seige. And my demerites
May ſpeak (unbonnetted) to as proud a Fortune
As this that I have reach'd. For know Iago,
But that I love the gentle Defdemona,
I would not my unhouſed free condition
Put into Circumſcription, and Confine,
For the Seas worth, But looke, what Lights come yond?

*Enter Caffio with Torches.*
Iago. Thofe are the raiſed father, and his friends :
You were beſt goe in.
Othel. Not I: I muſt be found,
My parts, my title, and my perſect foule
Shall maniſety me rightely. Is it they ?
Iago. By Ianus, I thinke no.
Othel. The ſervants of the Dukes ?
And my Lievtenant ?
The goodneſſe of the night upon you (friends)
What is the Newes ?
Caffio. The Duke does greet you (Generall)
And he requires your haſte, Poſt-haſte appearance,
Even on the inſant.
Othel. What is the matter, thinke you ?
Caffio. Something from Cyprus, as I may divine :
It is a buſineſſe of ſome heat. The Gallies
Have ſent a dozzen ſequent meſſengers
This very night, at one another's heeles :
And many of the Conſuls (rais'd and met.)
Are at the Dukes already. You have been hotly call'd for,
When being not at your lodging to be found,
The Senate hath ſent about three ſeverall Queſts,
To ſearch you out.
Othel. Tis well I am found by you :
I will but ſpend a word here in the houſe,
And goe with you.

*Caffio.* Ancient, what makes he here ?
*Iago.* Faith, he to night hath boorded a Land Carrac,
If it prove lawfull prize, he's made for ever.
*Caffio.* I doe not underſand.
*Iago.* He's marti'd.
*Caffio.* To whom ?
*Iago.* Marry to — Come Captaine, will you goe ?
*Othel.* Have with you.
*Caffio.* Here comes another Troopc to ſeeke for you:
*Enter Brabantio, Rodorigo, with Officers and Torches.*
*Iago.* It is Brabantio : Generall be advis'd,
He comes to bad intent.
*Othel.* Holla, ſtand there.
*Red.* Signior, it is the Moore.
*Bra.* Downe with him, Theeſe.
*Iago.* You Rodorigo ? Come fir, I am for you.
*Othel.* Keepe up your bright Swords, for the dew will
ruſt them. Good Signior, you ſhall more command with
yeares, than with your Weapons.
*Bra.* Oh then foule theſe,
Where haſt thou flow'd my Daughter ?
Damn'd as thou art, thou haſt enchaunted her

For Ile referre me to all things of ſenſe,
(If ſhe in chaines of Magicke were not bound)
Whether a Maide, to tender, faire, and happy,
So oppoſite to Marriage, that ſhe ſhunn'd
The wealthy curled Dearling of our Nation,
Would ever have (t'encurre a generall mocke)
Runne from her Guardage to the footy boſome,
Of ſuch a thing as thou : to ſeare, not to delight ?
Judge me the world, if tis not groſſe in ſenſe,
That thou haſt præſt'd on her with ſoule Charmes,
Abus'd her delicate youth, with Drugs or Minerals,
That weakens motion. Ile have't diſputed on,
Tis probable, and palpable to thinking :
I therefore apprehend and do ſattach thee,
For an abuſer of the world, a practifier
Of Arts inhibited, and out of warrant :
Lay hold upon him, if he doe reſift
Suddue him at his perill.

*Othel.* Hold your hands,
Both you of my inclining, and the reſt,
Were it my Cue to fight, I should have knowne it
Without a Prompter. Whither will you that I goe
To anſwer this your charge ?
*Bra.* To prifon, till fit time
Of Law, and course of direct Seffion
Call thee to anſwer.

*Othel.* What if I doe obey ?
How may the Duke be therewith ſatistified,
Whofe Meſſengers are here about my ſide,
Vpon ſome preſent buſineſſe of the State,
To bring me to him.
*Officer.* Tis true moſt worthy Signior,
The Duke's in Councell, and your Noble ſelfe,
I am ſure is ſent for.
*Bra.* How ? The Duke in Councell ?
In this time of the nigh ? bring him away :
Mine's not an idle cauſe. The Duke himſelfe,
Or any of my Brothers of the State,
Cannot but ſeele this wrong, as twere their owne :
For if ſuch Actions may have paſſage free,
Bond-flaves and Pagans ſhall our Stateſmen be.
*Exeunt.*

## Scena Tertia.

*Enter Duke, Senators, and Officers.*

*Duke.* There is no compoſition in this newes,
That gives them credit.

1 Sen. Indeed, they are diſproportioned;
My Letters ſay, a Hundred and ſeven Gallies.

*Duke.* And mine a Hundred forty.

2 Sen. And mine two Hundred :
But though they jumpe not on a juſt accompt,
(As in ſeſe Cafes where the ayme reports,
'Tis oft with difference) yet doe they all confirme
A Turkifh Fleet, and bearing up to Cyprus,

*Duke.* Nay, it is poſſible enough to judgement :
I do not ſo ſecure me in the errors,
But the maine Article I do approve
In ſcarefull ſenſe.

*Saylor within.* What hoa, what hoa, what hoa.

*Enter Saylor.*

*Officer, A.*

the Moore of Venice.

Officer. A Meffenger from the Gallies.

Duke. Now ? What's the buſineſſe ?

Sayler. The Turkish preparation makes for Rhodes,
So was I bid report here to the State,
By Signior Angelo.

Duke. How lay you by this change ?

I. Sen. This cannot be

By no affay of Reafon. Tis a Pageant
To keepe us in ſal e gaze, when we confider
Th'importancy of Cyprus to the Turke :
And let our ſelves againe but underſtand,

That as it more concernes the Turke then Rhodes,
So may he with more facile question beare it,
For that it stands not in ſuch warlike brace,

But altogether lacke th'abilities

That Rhodes is drefs'd in. If we make thought of this,
We muſt not thinke the Turke is ſo unſkilfull,
To leave that lateſt, which concernes him firſt,
Neglecting an attempt of eafe, and gaine

To wake, and wage a danger profileſſe.

Duke. Nay, in all confidence he's not for Rhodes
Officer. Here is more Newes.

Enter a Meſſenger.

Meffen. The Ottamites, Reveren'd, and Gracious,
Steering with due courſe toward the Ile of Rhodes,
Have there injoynted them with an after Fleet.

I Sen. I, to I thought : how many, as you gueſſe ?

Mefl. Of thirty Saile : and now they doe reſtem

Their backward courſe, bearing with franke appearance
Their purpoſes toward Cyprus. Signior *Montane*,

Your truſtly and moſt valiant Servitour,
With his free duty, recommends you thus,
And prays you to believe him.

Duke. Tis certaine then for Cyprus :

Marcus. Luceícos is not he in Towne ?

I. Sen. He's now in Florence,

Duke. Write from us,

To him, Poſt, Poſt-haſte, diſpatch.

I. Sen. Here comes Brabantio, and the Moore.

Enter Brabantio, Othello, Caffio, Iago, Roderigo, and Officers.

Duke. Valiant Othello, we muſt ſtraight employ you,
Against the generall Enemy Ottoman.

I did not fee you : welcome gentle Signior,
We lackt your Counſaile, and your helpe to night.

Bra. So did I yours : Good your Grace pardon me.
Neither my place, for ought I heard of buſineſſe
Hath rais'd me from my Bed ; nor doth the generall care
Take hold on me. For my particular griefe
Is of ſo flood-gate, and ore-bearing Nature,
That it ingluts, and ſwallowes other forrowes,
And it is ſtill it ſelfe.

Duke. Why ? What's the matter ?

Bra. My Daughter : oh my Daughter !

Sen. Dead.

Bra. I, to me.

She is abus'd, it ſolne from me, and corrupted

By Spels and Medicines, bought right of Mountebankes ;
For Nature ſo prepoſerouſly to erre,
(Being not deficient, blind, or lame of ſenſe ;)

Sans witch-craft could nor.

Duke. Who ere he be, that in this ſowle proceeding
Hath thus beguil'd your Daughter of her ſelfe,

And you of her ; the blooly Booke of Law,

You shall your ſelfe read, in the bitter letter.

After your owne ſenſe : yea, though our proper ſonſe
Stood in your Action.

Bra. Humbly I thanke your Grace.

Here is the man; this Moore, whom now it feemes
Your ſpeciall Mandate, for the State affaires,
Hath hither brought.

All. We are very forry for't.

Duke. What in your owne part, can you ſay to this ?

Bra. Nothing, but this is ſo.

Othe. Moſt Potent, Grave, and Reverend Signiors,
My very Noble, and approv'd good Maſters ;
That I have tane away this old mans daughter,
It is moſt true : true I have married her ;
The very head, and front of my offending,

Hath this extent ; no more. Rude am I, in my ſpeech,
And little bleſſ'd with the ſoft phraſe of Peace ;
For since theſe Armes of mine, had ſeven yeeres pith,
Till now, ſome nine Moones waſted, they have us'd

Their deereſt action, in the tented field :

And little of this great world can I ſpeake,
More than pertaines to Feats of Broyles, and Battailè,
And therefore little ſhall I grace my cauſe.

In ſpeaking for my ſelfe. Yet, (by your gracious patience)
I will a round un-varniſh'd Tale deliver,
Of my whole courſe of Love.

What Drugs, what Charmes,
What Conjuration, and what mighty Magicke,
(For ſuch proceeding I am charg'd withail)
I won his Daughter with,

Bra. A Maiden, never bold :
O ſpirit ſo ſtill, and quiet, that her Motion
Blush'd at her ſelfe, and ſhe in ſpight of Nature,
Of yeares, of Countrie, credite, every thing
To fall in Love, with what ſhe fear'd to looke on ;
It is a judgements maim'd, and moſt imperfect.

That will conſeſſe Perfection ſo could erre
Againſt all rules of Nature, and muſt be driven

To find out praeſures of cunning hell
Why this ſhould be. I therefore vouch againe,
That with ſome Mixtures, powerfull ore the blood,
Or with ſome Dram (conjur'd to this effect)
He wrought upon her.

Duk. To vouch this, is no proofe,
Without more wider, and more over-Teſt
Then theſe thin habits, and pcore likely-hoods
Of moderne ſeeming, doe preferre againſt him.
Sen. But Othello, ſpeake,

Did you, by indirect, and forced courſes
Subdue, and poyſon this yong Maids affections ?
Or came it by requeſt, and ſuch faire queſtion
As ſoule, to ſoule affordeth ?

Othel. I doe beſech you,
Send for the Lady to the Sagittary,
And let her ſpeake of me before her Father ;
If you doe find me ſoule, in her report,
The truſt, the office, I doe hold of you,
Not onely take away, but let your ſentence
Even fall upon my life.

Duke. Fetch Deſdemona hither.
Othel. Ancient, conduct them :
You beſt know the place.
And till ſhe come, as truely as to heaven,
I do conſeſſe the vices of my blood,

So juſtly to your Grave cares, Ile prefent

vv 3

How

["The Tragedy of Othello", "334", "How I did thrive in this faire Ladies love,\nAnd she in mine.", "Duke. Say it Othello.", "Otho. Her father lov'd me, oft invited me :\nStill quiefiont'd me the story of my life,\nFrom yeare to yeare : the Battails, Sieges, Fortune,\nThat I have paft.", "I ran it through, even from my Boyish dayes,\nTo th' very moment that he bad me tell it.\nWherein I spoke of moft difaftrous chances:\nOf moving Accidents by Flood, and Field,\nOf haire-breadth ſcapes i'th' imminent deadly breach ;\nOf being taken by the insolent foe.", "And fold to ſlavery. Of my redemption thence,\nAnd portance in my Travellers hiftory.", "Wherein of Antars vaſt, and D erfarts wilde, (ven,\nRough Quarries, Rocks, & Hils, whole heads touch hea-\nIt was my hint to ſpeake. Such was my Proceſſe,\nAnd of the Canibals that each others eate,\nThe Anthrophagie, and men whoſe heads\nGrew beneath their shoulders. Theſe things to heare,\nWould Desdemona ſeriously incline :", "But full the houſe affaires would draw her hence:", "Which ever as ſhe could with haſte diſpatch,", "She'd come againe, and with a greedy eare", "Devoure up my diſcourſe. Which I obſerving,", "Tooke once a pliant houre, and found good meanes", "To draw from her a prayer of earneſt heart,", "That I would all my Pilgrimage dilate,", "Whereof by parcels ſhe had ſomſtning heard,", "But not diſtinctively : I did conſent,", "And often did beguile her of her teares,", "When I did ſpeake of ſome diſtrefſe ſtroke", "That my youth ſuffer'd : My ſtory being done,", "She gave me for my paines a world of kiffes:", "She ſwore in faith twas ſtrange, twas paſſing ſtrange,", "'Twas pittifull : twas wondrous pittifull.", "She wifh'd ſhe had not heard it, yet ſhe wifh'd", "That heaven had made her ſuch a man. She thank'd me,", "And bad me if I had a friend that lov'd her,", "I should but teach him how to tell my ſtory,", "And that would wooe her. Vpon this hint I ſpake,", "She lov'd me for the dangers I have paſt,", "And I lov'd her, that ſhe did pitty them.", "This onley is the witch-craft I have us'd.", "Here comes the Lady : Let her wittneſſe it.", "Enter Defdemona, Iago, Attendants.", "Duke. I thinke this tale would win my Daughter too,\nGood Brabantio, take up this mangled matter at the beſt:\nMen doe their broken Weapons rather uſe,\nThen their bare hands.", "Bra. I pray you heare her ſpeake :", "If ſhe confefſe that ſhe was haſſe the wooer,", "Deſtruction on my head, if my bad blame", "Light on the man. Come hither gentle Miftris,", "Doe you perceive in all his Noble company,", "Where moſt you owe obedience ?", "Deſ. My Noble father,", "I doe perſerve here a divided duty.", "To you I am bound for life, and education :", "My life and education both doe learne me,", "How to reſpect you. You are the Lord of duty,", "I am hitherto your daughter. But here's my husband ;", "And so much duty, as my Mother ſhew'd", "To you, preferring you before her father :\nSo much I challenge, that I may profefſe\nDue to the Moore my Lord.", "Bra. God be with you : I have done.", "Pleafe it your Grace, on to the State affaires ;", "I had rather to adopt a child than get it.", "Come hither Moore,", "I here doe give thee that with all my heart,", "Which but thou haſt already, with all my heart", "I would keepe from thee. For your ſake (Iewell)", "I am glad at foule, I have no other child ;", "For thy eſcape would teach me tyranny", "To hang clogs on them. I have done my Lord.", "Duke. Let me ſpeake like your ſelfe :", "And lay a Sentence,", "Which like a grife, or ſtep may helpe theſe Lovers,", "When remedies are paſt, the griefes are ended", "By feeing the worſt, which late on hopes depended.", "To mourne a miſchſe that is paſt and gone,", "Is the next way to draw new miſchſe on.", "What cannot be preſerv'd, when Fortune takes :", "Patience, her Injury a mockery makes.", "The robb'd that ſmiles, ſteals ſomſtning from the Thieſe,\nHe robs himſelfe, that ſpends a boſtleſſe griefe.", "Bra. So let the Turke of Cyprus beguile,", "We louſe it not ſo long as we can ſmile :", "He beares the ſentence well, that nothing beares,", "But the free comfort which from thence he heares.", "But he beares both the ſentence, and the forrow,", "That to pay griefe, muſt of poore Patience borow.", "Theſe Sentences, to Sugar, or to Gall,", "Being ſtrong on both ſides, are Equivocall.", "But words are words, I never yet did heare :", "That the bruiz'd heart was pierced through the eare.", "I humbly beſeech you proceed to th' Affairs of State.", "Duke. The Turke with a moſt mighty preparation\nmakes for Cyprus ; Othello, the Fortitude of the place is\nbeſt knowne to you. And though we have there a Subſti-\ntute of moſt allowed ſiſciency, yet opinion, a more\nSoveraigne Miftris of Eſeets, throwes a more ſafe\nvoyce on you, you muſt therefore be content to ſlubber\nthe groſſe of your new Fortunes, with this more ſlub-\nborne, and boy ſterous expedition.", "Othe. The Tyrant Cutfome, moſt Gracious Senators,\nHath made the flinty and Steele Coach of Warre\nMy thrice-driven bed of Downe. I doe agnize\nA natural and prompt Alacrity,", "I find in hardneſſe : and doe undertake", "This preſent warre against the Oſſomises.", "Moſt humbly therefore bending to your State,", "I crave fit diſpoſition for my Wife,", "Due reference of Place, and Exhibition,", "With ſuch accommodation and beſort", "As levels with her breeding.", "Duke. Why, at her Fathers.", "Bra. I will not have it ſo,", "Othe. Nor I.", "Deſ. Nor would I there reſide,", "To put my father in impatient thoughts", "By being in his eye. Moſt Gracious Duke,", "To my unfolding, lend your perſpiring eare,", "And let me find a Character in your voyce", "T'affiſt my ſimplenefſe.", "Duke. What would you Deſdemona ?", "Deſ. That I love the Moore, to live with him.", "My downe-right violence, and ſtorme of Fortunes,", "May", "May trum\nEven to O\nI faw Oth\nAnd to hi\nDid I mo\nSo that (c\nAMoth\nThe Rite\nAnd I a\nBy his de\nOthe,\nVouch w\nTo pleafe\nNor to co\nIn my de\nBut to be\nAnd hea\nI will you\nWhen ſb\nOf feath\nMy ſpec\nThat my\nLet Hou\nAnd all i\nMake he\nDuke,\nEither fo\nAnd ſpe\nSen.\nOthe,\nDuke\nOthello,\nAnd he\nAnd ſuch\nAs doth\nOthe.\nA man h\nTo his c\nWith wh\nTo be ſ\nDuke,\nGood ni\nIf Vert\nYour So\nSen.\nBra.\nShe has\nOthe.\nMy De\nI pythe\nAnd bril\nCome T\nOf Lov\nTo ſpe\nRod,\nIago,\nRod,\nIago,\nRod,\nInge\nthou fil\nRod,\nand the\nPhyſia\nIago,\nfor four", "", "", "", {"bbox": [1125, 397, 1176,

the Moore of Venice.

335

May trumpet to the world. My heart's subd'g
Even to the very quality of my Lord;
I saw Othello's vifage in his minde,
And to his honours and his valiant parts,
Did I my foule and fortunes confecrate.

So that (deere Lords) if I be left behind
A Moth of Peace, and he goe to the War,
The Rites for why I love him, are bereft me :
And I a heavy interim shall fupport

By his dear abfence. Let me goe with him.

Othe. Let her have your voyce.

Vouch with me heaven, I therefore beg it not
To pleafe the Palate of my Appetite :

Nor to comply with heat the yong effects
In my defunct, and proper ſatisfaction.

But to be free, and bounteous to her minde :
And heaven defend your good foules, that you thinke
I will your ſerious and great buſineſſe ſcant
When ſhe is with me. No, when light wing'd Toyes
Of feather'd Cupid, ſeele with wanton dulcette
My ſpeculative, and offic'd Inſtrument :

That my Diports corrupt, and taint my buſineſſe :
Let Houſe-wives make a Skillet of my Helme,
And all indigne, and bafe adverſities,
Make head againſt my Eſtimation.

Duke. Be it as you ſhall privately determine,

Either for her ſlay, or going : th' Aſſaire cryes haſte :
And ſpeed muſt anſwer it.

Sen. You muſt away to night.

Othe. With all my heart.

Duke. At nine i'th' morning, here wee'l meet againe.

Othello, leave some Officer behind

And he ſhall our Commiffion bring to you :

And ſuch things eſſe of quality and reſpect
As doth import you.

Othe. So pleafe your Grace, my Ancient,

A man he is of honeſty and truſt :
To his conveyance I aſſigne my wife.
With what eſſe needfull, your good Grace ſhall thinke
To be ſent after me.

Duke. Let it be so :

Good night to every one. And Noble Signior,

If Vertue no delighted beauty lacke,

Your Son-in Law is farre more faire than blacke.

Sen. Adieu brave Moore, uſe Defdemona well.

Bra. Looke to her (Moore) if thou haſt eyes to ſee :

She has deceiv'd her father, and may thee.

Exit.

Othe. My life upon her faith. Honest Iago,

My Defdemona muſt I leave to thee :

I prythee let thy wife attend on her,

And bring them after in their beſt advantage.

Come Defdemona, I have but an hour.

Of Love, of worldlady matter, and direction

To ſpeak with thee. We muſt obey the time.

Exit.

Rod. Iago.

Iago. What faſt thou noble heart?

Rod. What will I doe, thinkſt thou ?

Iago. Why goe to bed and ſleepe.

Rod. I will incontinently droune my ſelfe.

Iago. If thou doſt, I ſhall never love thee after. Why
thou ſilly Gentleman?

Rod. It is ſillineſſe to live, when to live is torment :
and then have we a preſcription to dye, when death is our
Phyſitian.

Iago. Oh villanous: I have look'd upon the world
for ſou times ſeven yeares, and ſince I could diſtinkſuſh

betwixt a Benefit, and an injury. I never found man that
knew how to love himſelfe. Ere I would ſay, I would
droune my ſelfe for the love of a Gynney Hen, I would
change my humanity with a Babooone.

Rod. What ſhould I doe, I ſonſeſſe it is my ſhame to
be ſo fond, but it is not in my vertue to amend it.

Iago. Vertue? A figge, tis in our ſelves that wee are
thus, or thus. Our Bodies are our Gardens, to the which,
our Wils are Gardiners. So that if we will plant Net-
tels, or fowe Lettice : Set Hyſope, and weede up Time :
Supply it with one gender of Hearbes, or diſtraſt it with
many : either have it ſteſtrill with idlenſe, or manu-
red with Induſtry, why the power and Corrigible au-
thority of this lies in our Wils. If the braine of our lives
had not one ſcale of Reaſon, to poyſe another of Senſu-
ality, the blood, and bafe ſeſſe of our Natures would
conduct us to moſt prepoſtous Conſuſions. But wee
have reaſon to coole our raging Motions, or carnall
Stings, or unbitted Luſts : whereof I take this, that you
call Love, to be a Seſt, or Seyen.

Rod. It cannot be.

Iago. It is meerely a Luſt of the Blood, and a permiſſi-
on of the will. Come, be a man : droune thy ſelfe ?
Droune Cats, and blind Puppies. I have poffeſt me thy
Eriend, and I ſonſeſſe me knit to thy deferving, with Ca-
bles of perdurable toughneſſe. I could never better ſeed
tho than now. Put money in thy purſe : follow the
Warres, defeat thy favour, with an uſurped Bait. I
ſay, put money in thy purſe. It cannot be long that De-
demona ſhould continue her love to the Moore. Put Mo-
ney in thy purſe: nor he his to her. It was a violent Com-
 mencement in her, and thou ſhalt fee an anſwerable Se-
queſtation, put but money in thy purſe. Theſe Mooreſ
are changeable in their wils : fill thy purſe with money.
The food that to him now is as luſhious as Locaſts, ſhall
to him ſhortly bee as bitter as Coloquintida. ſhee muſt
change for youth : when ſhee is fated with his body, the
will finde the errors of her choyce. Therefore put mo-
ney in thy purſe. If thou wilt needs damme thy ſelfe, doe
it a more delicate way then drouſing. Make all the mo-
ney thou canſt : If Sanctimony and a fraile vow, be-
twixt an erring Barbarian, and ſuper-fubite Venetian be
not too hard for my wits, and all the Tribe of hell, thou
ſhalt enjoy her : therefore make money : a pox of draw-
ning thy ſelfe, it is cleane out of the way. Seeck thou ra-
ther to bee hang'd in compaſſing thy joy, then to bee
drown'd, and goe without her.

Rod. Wilt thou be ſaſt to my hopes, if I depend on the
iſſue?

Iago. Thou art ſure of me : Goe make money : I have
told thee often, and I re-tell thee againe, and againe, I
hate the Moore. My cauſe is hearted ; thine hath no ſelſe
reaſon. Let us be conjunctive in our revenge, againſt
him. If thou canſt Cuckold him, thou doſt thy ſelfe a
pleasure, me a ſport. There are many Events in the
Wombe of Time, which will be delivered. Traverſe, goe,
provide thy money. We will have more of this to mor-
row. Adieu.

Rod. Where shall we meet i'th morning?

Iago. At my lodging.

Rod. Ile be with thee betimes.

Iago. Goe to, farewell. Doe you here Roderigo?

Rod. Ile fell all my Land.

Exit.

Iago. Thus doe I ever make my Foole, my purſe :

For I mine owne gain'd knowledge ſhould prophan

If I would time expend with ſuch a Swaine,

But

Thieſe.

re,
ate,
aration
ace is
Subſti-
amore
re ſafe
lubber
the flub-

May

The Tragedy of Othello

But for my Sport, and Profit: I hate the Moore,
And it is thought abroad, that twixt my fleets
He has'd done my Office. I know not if't be true,
But I, for meere fuspfition in that kinde,
Will doe, as if for Surety. He holds me well,
The better shall my purpofe worke on him:
Caffio's a proper man: Let me fee now,
To get this place, and to plume up my will
In double Knavery. How ? how ? Let's fee.
After fome time, to abufe Othello's eares,
That he is too familiar with his wife:
He hath a perfon, and a smooth diſpofe
To be ſuſpeſted: fram'd to make women falſe.
The Moore is of a free, and open Nature,
That thinkes men honeſt, that but ſeeme to be ſo,
And will as tenderly be lead by'th'Noſe
As Aſſes are:
I have't: it is engendred: Hell, and Night,
Muſt bring this monſtrous Birth, to the worlds light.

Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.

Enter Montano, and Gentlemen.

Mon. What from the Cape, can you diſcerne at Sea?
X Gen. Nothing at all, it is a high wrought Flood:
I cannot 'twixt the heaven and the Maine,
Def crew a Sayle.

Mon. Me thinkes, the wind hath ſpoke aloud at Land,
A fuller blaſt ne're ſhooke our Battlements:
If it hath ruilland ſo upon the Sea,
What ribbles of Oake, when Mountaines melt on them,
Can hold the Morties. What ſhall we heare of this?

2 A Segregation of the Turkifh Fleet:
For doe but ſtand upon the foaming Shoare,
The chidren Billow ſeemes to pelt the cloudes,
The wind-shak'd-Surge, with high & monſtrous Maine,
Semes to caſt water on the burning Beare,
And quench the Guar ds of th' ever-fixed Pole:
I never did like moleſation view
On the enchaſed Flood.

Mon. If that the Turkifh Fleet
Be not inſhelſter'd, and embay'd, they are drown'd,
It is impoſſible to bear it out.

Enter a Gentleman.

3 Newes Laddes: our warres are done:
The desperate Tempeſt hath ſo bang'd the Turkes,
That their deſignement halts. A Noble ſhip of Venice,
Hath ſeene a grievous wracke and ſufferance
On moſt part of their Fleet.

Mon. How ? Is this true ?

3 The Ship is here put in: A Veroneſſa, Michael Caffio
Lieutenant to the warlike Moore, Othello,
Is come on Shore: the Moore himſelfe at Sea,
And is in full Commiffion heere for Cyprus.

Mon. I am glad not:
Tis a worthy Governor.

3 But this fame Caffio, though he ſpeake of comfort,
Touching the Turkifh loſſe, yet he looks ſadly,
And prays the Moore be ſafe; for they were parted
With fowle and violent Tempeſt.

Mon. Pray heavens he be:

For I have ſerv'd him, and the man commands
Like a full Souldier. Lets to the Sea-fide (hoa)
As well to fee the Veffell that's come in,
As to throw-out our eyes for brave Othello,
Even till we make the Maine, and th'Eriall blew,
And indiſtinct regard.

Gent. Come, lets doe ſo;

For every Minute is expectancy
Of more Arrivancy.

Enter Caffio.

Caffi. Thankes you, the valiant of the warlike Ille,
That ſo approove the Moore: Oh let the heavens
Give him defence againſt the Elements,
For I have loſt him on a dangerous Sea,

Mon. Is he well ſhip'd ?

Caffi. His Barke is ſloutly Timber'd, and his Pylot
Of very expert, and approv'd Allowance;
Therefore my hope's (not ſurfetted to death)
Stand in bold Cure.

Within. A Saile, a Saile, a Saile.

Caffio. What noyſe ?

Gent. The Towne is empty; on the brow o' the Sea
Stand rankes of People, and they cry a Sayle.

Caffio. My hopes do ſhape him for the Governour,
Gent. They doe diſcharge their ſhot of courteſe,
Our friends, at leaſt.

Caffio. I pray you fir goe forth.
And give us truth who tis that is arriv'd.

Gent. I ſhall.

Exit.

Mon. But good Lievtenant, is your Generall wiv'd?
Caffio. Moſt fortunately: he hath atchiev'd a Maid
That paragons deſcription, and wilde Fame:
One that excels the quiſkes of blazoning Pens,
And in th'effeſtiall Vehture of Creation,
Do's tire the Ingeniver.

Enter Gentleman.

How now ? Who has put in?

Gent. Tis one Iago, Ancient to the Generall,
Caffio. Ha's had moſt favourable, and happy ſpeed:
Tempeſts themſelves, high Seas, and howling winds,
The gutter'd Rockes, and Congregated Sands,
Traitors enſteep'd, to enclogge the guiltieſſe Keele,
As having ſenſe of Beauty, doe omit
Their mortal Natures, letting goe safely by
The divine Deſdimona.

Mon. What is ſhe ?
Caffio. She that I ſpake of:

Our great Captaines Captaine,
Left in the conduct of the bold Iago,
Whose footing here anticipates our thoughts,
A Senights ſpeed. Great Iove, Othello guard,
And Iwell his Saile with thine owne powrefull breath,
That he may bleſſe this Bay with his tall Ship,
Make loves quicke pants in Deſdemonaes armes,
Give renew'd fire to our extingſted Spirits.

Enter Deſdemona, Iago, Rodorigo, and Aemilia.
Oh behold,
The riches of the ſhip is come on Shore:
You men of Cyprus, let her have your knees.
Haile to thee Lady: and the grace of Heaven,
Before, behind thee, and on every hand
Enwheelle thee round.

Deſ. I thanke you, valiant Caffio,
What tydings can you tell me of my Lord?

Caffio.

the Moore of Venice.

337

Caf. He is not arriv'd,nor know I ought
But that he's well,and will be shortly here,

Def. Oh, but I feare :
How loft you company ?

Caf. The great contention of the Sea and Skies,
Parted our fellowship. But hearke,a Saile.

Within, A Saile,a Saile.

Gent. They give this greeting to the Cittadell :
This likewife is a friend.

Caf. See for the Newes :

Good Ancients you are welcome. Welcome Miftris :
Let it not gall your patience (good Iago)

That I extend my Manners. Tis my Breeding,
That gives me this bold flew of Courteie,

Iago. Sir, would he give you so much of her lips,
As of her tongue he oft beflowes of me,
You would have enough.

Def. Alas : she has no ſpeech.

Iago. Inſaith too much :

I find it full, when I have leave to ſleepe,
Marry before your Ladyship, I grant,
She puts her tongue a little in her heart,
And chides with thinking.

Emil. You have little cauſe to ſay so.

Iago. Come on, come on: you are Pictures out of dores:
Bels in your Parlors : Wilde-Cats in your Kitchens :

Saints in your injuries : Divels being offended :

Players in your Hufwifery, and Hufwives in your beds.

Def. Oh, ſhe upon thee, ſlanderer.

Iago. Nay, it is true : or else I am a Turke,
You rife to play, and goe to bed to worke.

Emil. You shall not write my praife.

Iago. No, let me not.

Def. What would it write of me, if thou ſhould'ſt
praile me.

Iago. Oh, gentle Lady, doe not put me toot,
For I am nothing, if not Criticall.

Iago. Come on, aſſay.

There's one gone to the Harbour ?

Iago. I Madam.

Def. I am not merry ; but I doe beguile
The thing I am, by feemring otherwife,
Come, how would it thou praife me?

Iago. I am about it, but indeed my invention comes
from my Pate, as Birdline does from Freeze, it pluckes
out Braines and all. But my Mufe labours, and thus ſhce
is delivered.

If he be faire, and wife; fairerneſſe and wit,
The ones for wife, the other uſeth it.

Def. Well prais'd :
How if she be blacke and witty ?

Iago. If he be blacke, and thereto have a wit,
She'll find a white, that ſhall her blackneſſe fit.

Def. Worſe and worſe.

Emil. How if faire and foolish.

Iago. She never yet was foolish that was faire,
For even her folly helps her to an heire.

Defd. These are old fond Paradoxes, to make Fooles
laugh i'th'Alehouse. What miferable praife hafte thou
for her that's foule and foolish.

Iago. There's none so foule and foolish thereunto,
But does foule pranke, which faire, and wife-ones doe.

Defd. Oh heavy ignorance : thou praiſed the worst
belt. But what praife couldst thou beſtow on a defer-
ving woman indeed ? One, that in the authority of her

merit, did justly put on the vouch of very malice it
ſelfe.

Iago. She that was ever faire, and never proud,
Hath tongue at will, and yet was never loud :

Never lackt gold, and yet went never gay,
Fled from her wifh, and yet ſaid now I may.

She that being angred, her revenge being nie,
Bad her wrong ſlay, and her dsſpleasure fly.

She that in wisedome never was so fraile,
To change the Cods-head for the Salmons taile :

She that could think, and ne'er disclose her mind,
See Smiters following, and not looks behind :

She was a Wight, (if ever such Wights were)

Def. To doe what ?
Iago. To ſmuckle Fooles, and chronicle ſmall Beer.

Defd. Oh moſt lame and impotent concluſion. Doe
not learne of him Aemilia, though he be thy husband.
How ſay you (Caffio) is he not a moſt prophane, and li-
berall Countailor ?

Caffio. He ſpeakes home (Madam) you may reſliff
him more in the Souldier, than in Scholler.

Iago. He takes her by the palme: I, well ſaid, whif-
per. With as little a web as this, will I enſare as great
a Fly as Caffio. I, ſmile upon her, doe: I will gyve thee
in thine owne Courtſhip. You ſay true, tis ſo indeed.
If ſuch tricks as theſe ltrip you out of your Lievtenan-
try, it had beene better you had not kifs'd your three fin-
gers ſo oft, which now againe you are moſt apt to play
the Sir, in. Very good: well kifs'd, and excellent Curt-
ſie: tis ſo indeed. Yet againe, your fingers to your
lippes ? Would they were Cliffer-pipes for your
ſake.

The Moore, I know his Trumpet.

Caffio. Tis truely ſo.

Def. Lets meet him, and receive him.

Caffio. Loe, where he comes.

Enter Othello and Attendanes.

Oth. O, my faire Warriour.

Def. My deere Othello,

Oth. It gives me wonder, great as my content
To fee you here before me.

Oh my foules joy!

If after every Tempeſt, come ſuch calmes,

May the windes blow, till they have waken'd death :

And let the labouring Barke climb the hilts of Seas

Olympus high: and ducke againe as low;

As hel's from heaven. If it were now to dye,

Twere now to be moſt happy. For I ſeare,

My foule hath her content ſo abſolute,

That not another comfort like to this,

Succeeds in unknowne Fate.

Def. The heavens forbid

But that our Loves

And Comforts should encreafe

Even as our dayes doe grow.

Othe. Amen to that (weet Powers)

I cannot ſpeak enough of this content,
It floppes me here: it is too much of joy.

And this, and this the greatest ſcord's be
That ere our hearts shall make.

Iago. Oh you are well-tun'd now : But he ſet downe
the Pegges that make this Muficke, as honest as I am.

Othe.

The Tragedy of Othello

338

Othello. Come, let us to the Castle.
Newes (Friends) our warres are done :
The Turkes are drown'd.
How doe's my old acquaintance of this Ille ?
(Hony) you shall be well defir'd in Cyprus.
I have found great love amongst them. Oh my Sweet,
I prattle out of fashion, and I doat
In mine owne comforts. I prythee, good Iago,
Goe to the Bay, and difimbarke thy Coffers :
Bring thou the Mafter to the Citradell,
He is a good one, and his worthinefle
Doe's challenge much respect. Come Defdemona,
Once more well met at Cyprus.

Exit Othello and Defdemona.

Iago. Do you meet me prefently at the harbour. Come
thither, if thou be't valiant, (as they fay bafe men being
in love, have then a Nobility in their Natures, more than
is native to them) lift-me; the Lievtenant to night wat-
ches on the Court of Guard. Firſt, I muſt tell thee this :
Defdemona, is directly in love with him.

Rod. With him ? Why, tis not poſſible.

Iago. Lay thy finger thus : and let thy foule be inſtru-
cted. Marke me with what violence ſhee lov'd the
Moore, but for bragging, and telling her fantaſtical lies.
To love him ſtill for prating, let not thy diſcreet heart
thinke it. Her eye muſt be fed. And what delight shall
ſhe have to looke on the Divell ? When the blood is
made dull with the Act of Sport, there ſhould be a game
to enflame it, and to give fatiety a fresh appetite. Love-
lineſſe in favour, ſimpathy in yeares, Manners, and Beau-
ties : all which the Moore is defective in. Now for
want of theſe requiring Conveniences, her delicate ten-
derneſſe will find it ſelſe abus'd, begin to heave the gorge,
diſrellith and abhorre the Moore, very Nature will im-
fruct her in it, and compell her to ſome ſecond choyce.
Now firſt, this granted (as it is a moſt pregnant and vn-
fort'd poffit ion) who stands ſo eminent in the degree of
this Fortune, as Caffio doe's: a Knave very voluble : no
further conſionable, than in putting on the meere forme
of Civil, and humane ſeeming, for the better compaſſe
of his Salt, and moſt hidden ſoofe Affection ? Why none,
why none : A slippery, and ſubtle Knave, a finder of occa-
ſion : that ha's an eye can ſtand pe, and counterfeit Advan-
tages, though true Advantage never prefent it ſelſe. A
Divellith Knave : beſides, the Knave is handſome, yong :
and hath all that eſequites in him, that folly and Greene
mindes looke after. A peſtilent compleat Knave, and the
woman hath found him already.

Rod. I cannot believe that in her, ſhe's full of moſt
bleſſ'd condition.

Iago. Bleſſ'd figges-end. The Wine ſhee drinke is
made of Grapes. If ſhe had beenebleſſ'd, ſhee would
never have lov'd the Moore: Bleſſ'd pudding. Did ſt thou
not fee her paddle with the palme of his hand ? Did ſt not
marke that?

Rod. Yes, that I did : but that was but curſeſe.

Iago. Leachery by this hand : an Index, and obscure
prologue to the Hiftory of Luſt and foule Thoughts.
They met ſo neere with their lippes, that their breathes
embrac'd together. Villanous thoughts Rodorigo, when
theſe mutabilities ſo marſhall the way, hard at hand
comes the Maſter, and maine exercife, th'incorporate
conclusion: Pith. But fir, be you rul'd by mee. I have
brought you from Venice. Watch you to night: for
the command, I lay't upon you. Caffio knowes you
not: Ile not be farre from you. Doe you find ſome oc-

caſion to anger Caffio, either by ſpeaking too loud, or
tainting his discipline, or from what other courſe
you pleafe, which the time ſhall more favourably mi-
nifier.

Rod. Well.

Iago. Sir, he's rafh, and very ſodaine in Choler : and
happily may ſtrike at you, provoke him that he may : for
even out of that w ill I cauſe theſe of Cyprus to Mutiny.
Who ſhove qualification ſhall come into no true taſte againe,
but by the diſplanting of Caffio. So ſhall you have a ſhor-
ter journey to your defires, by the meanes I ſhall then
have to preferre them. And the impediment moſt pro-
fitably removed, without the which there were no expe-
itation of our prosperity.

Rod. I will do this, if you can bring it to any oppor-
tunity.

Iago. I warrant thee. Meet me by and by at the Citta-
dell. I muſt fetch his neceſſaries a shore. Farewell.

Rod. Adieu.

Exit.

Iago. That Caffio loves her, I doe well believe't:
That he loves him, tis apt, and of great credite.

The Moore (howbeit that I endure him not)

Is of a conſant, loving, noble Nature,

And I dare thinke, he'll prove to Defdemona,

A moſt dear husband. Now I doe love her too,

Nor out of abſolue luſt, (though peradventure

I ſtand accountant for as great a finne)

But partly led to dyet my Revenge,

For that I doe ſuſpect the luſty Moore

Hath leapt into my ſeat. The thought whereof,

Doth (like a poyſous Minerall) gnaw my Inwards ;

And nothing can, or ſhall content my Soule

Till I am eeven'd with him, wife for wife.

Or failing ſo, yet that I put the Moore,

At leaſt into a ſelouzie ſo ſtrong,

That judgement cannot cure. Which thing to doe,

If this poore Traſh of Venice, whom I trace

For his quicke hunting, ſtand the putting on,

Ile have our Michael Caffio on the hip,

Abufe him to the Moore, in the right garbe

(For I feare Caffio with my Night-Cap too)

Make the Moore thanke me, love me, and reward me,

For making him egregiously an Aſſe,

And prætising upon his peace and quiet,

Even to madneſſe. Tis here : but yet confuseſ,

Knaveries plaine face, is never ſeene, till us'd.

Exit.

## Scena Secunda.

### Enter Othello's Herald with a Proclamation.

Herald. It is Othello's pleasure, our Noble and Vali-
ant Generall; That upon certaine Tydings now arriv'd,
importing the meere perdition of the Turkisſh Fleet,
every man put himſelfe into Triumph. Some to dance,
fome to make Bonfires, each man, to what Sport and
Revels his addition leads him. For beſides theſe bene-
ficiall Newes, it is the Celebration of his Nuptiall. So
much was his pleasure ſhould be proclaimed. All offi-
ces are open, and there is full liberty of Feaſting from this
pre-

the Moore of Venice.

339

prefent houre of five, till the Bell have told eleven.
Bleſſe the Ille of Cyprus, and our Noble Generall Othello.
Exit.

Enter Othello, Defdemona, Caffio and Attendants.
Othel. Good Michael, looke you to the Guard at night.
Let's teach our felves that honourable ſtop,
Not to out-ſport diſcretion.

Caf. Iago hath direction what to doe.
But notwithstanding with my perſonall eye
Will I looke to't.

Othe. Iago, is moſt honefull:
Michael, goodnight. To morrow with your earlieſt,
Let me have ſpeech with you. Come my deare Love,
The purchase made the fruits are to enue,
That profit's yet to come tweene me, and you.
Goodnight.
Exit.

Enter Iago.

Caf. Welcome Iago; we muſt to the Watch.

Iago. Not this houre Lievrenant: 'tis not yet ten o'th
Clocke. Our Generall caſt us thus early for the love of
his Defdemona: Whom, let us not therefore blame; he
hath not yet made wanton the night with her: and ſhewe
is ſport for Iove.

Caf. She's a moſt exquifite Lady.

Iago. And Ile warrant her, full of Game.

Caf. Indeed ſhee's a moſt freſh and delicate creature.

Iago. What an eye the ha' s?

Me thinkes it founds a parley to provocation.

Caf. An inviting eye :

And yet me thinkes right modell.

Iago. And when ſhe ſpeakes,

Is it not an Alarum to Love ?

Caf. She is indeed perfection.

Iago. Well: happiſe to their ſweets. Come Lieve-
tenant, I have a ſtope of Wine, and here without are a
brace of Cyprus Gallants, that would faire have a mea-
fure to the health of blacke Orthele.

Caf. Not to night, good Iago: I have very poore, and
unhappy Braines for drinking. I could well with cour-
tefie would iavent ſome other cuſtome of entertain-
ment.

Iago. Oh, they are our Friends: but one Cup, Ile
drinke for you.

Caffio. I have drunke but one Cup to night, and that
was craftily qualified too: and behold what innovation
it makes here. I am inſortunate in the infirmity, and dare
not taske my weakenſe with any more.

Iago. What man? tis a night of Revels, the Gallants
defire it.

Caf. Where are they ?

Iago. Here, at the door: I pray you call them in.

Caf. Ile doo't, but it diſlikes me.

Iago. If I can faſten but one Cup upon him
With that which he hath drunke to night already,
He'l be as full of Quarrell, and offence
As my yong Miftris Dog.

Now my ſicke Foole Rodorigo,

Whom Love hath turn'd almoſt the wrong ſide out,
To Defdemona hath to night Carrows'd,

Potations, pottle-deepe; and he's to watch.

Three ſeſe of Cyprus, Noble ſwellung ſpirits,
(That hold their honours in a wary diſtance,
The very Elements of this warlike Ille)

Have I to night fluſter'd with flowing Cups,
And they Watch too.

Now 'mongſt this Flocke of Drunkards?
Am I to put our Caffio in ſome Action

That may offend the Ille. But here they come.

Enter Caffio, Montano, and Gentlemen.

If conſequence doe but approve my dreame,

My Boat ſayles freely, both with wind and ſtreame.

Caf. Fore heaven, they have given me a rowle already,
Mon. Good faith a little one: not palt a Pint, as I am
a Souldier.

Iago. Some Wine hoa,

And let me the Cannakin clinke, clinke :

And let me the Cannakin clinke.

A Souldiers a man : Oh, man's life's but a ſpan,

Why then let a Souldier drinks.

Some Wine Boyes.

Caf. 'Fore heaven : an excellent Song.

Iago. I lea'd it in England: where indeed they are
moſt poterit in Potting. Your Dane, your Germane, and
your ſwag-belly'd Hollander; (drinke hoa) are nothing to
your English.

Caffio. Is your Englishman so exquifite in his drin-
king?

Iago. Why, he drinkes you with facilitie, your Dane
dead drunke. He ſweares not to overthrow your Al-
maine. He gives your Hollander a vomit; ere the next
Pottle can be fill'd.

Caf. To the health of our Generall.

Mom: I am for it Lievrenant: and Ile doe you Inſtice.

Iago: Oh, ſweet England.

King Stephen was and-a worthy Peere,

His Breaches cost him but a Crowne,

He held them fixepence all to deere,

With what he call'd the Taylor Lowne:

He was a Wight of high Renowne,

And thou art but of low degree :

This Pride that puls the Countrey downe,

And take thy awl'd Cloake about thee.

Some Wine hoa.

Caffio. Why this is a more exquifire ſong than the o-
ther.

Iago. Will you hear't againe?

Caf. No: for I hold him to be unworthy of his place,
that do's thofe things. Well: heav'ns above all: and
there be foules muſt be fav'd, and there be ſoules muſt not
be fav'd.

Iago. Its true, good Lievrenant.

Caf. For mine owne part, no offence to the Generall,
nor any man of quality: I hope to be fav'd.

Iago. And to doe I too Lievrenant.

Caffio. .I : (but by your leave) not before me. The
Lievrenant is to be fav'd before the Ancient. Lets have
no more of this: lets to our aſfaires. Forgive us our
finnes: Gentlemen lets looke to our buſineſſe: Doe not
thinke Gentlemen, I am drunke: this is my Ancient, this
is my right hand, and this is my left. I am not drunke
now: I can ſtand well enough, and I ſpeake well enough.

Cent, Excellent well.

Caf. Why very well then: you muſt not thinke then,
that I am drunke.

Montan. Toth' Platforme (Masters) come, lets fet
the Watch.

Iago. You fee this fellow that is gone before,

He is a Souldier, fit to ſtand by Cefar,

And give direction. And doe but fee his vice,

Tis to his vertue a juſt Equinox,

The

["340", "The Tragedy of Othello", "The one as long as th'other. Tis pitty of him :", "I feare the truſt Othello puts him in,\nOn ſome odde time of his infirmity", "Will ſhake this Iſland.", "Mont. But is he often thus ?", "Iago. Tis evermore his prologue to his ſleepe,\nHe'll watch the Horologue a double Set,", "If he inke rocke not his Cradle.", "Mont. It were well", "The Generall were put in mind of it :", "Perhaps he ſees it not, or his good nature", "Prizes the vertue that appears in Caffio,", "And looks not on his evils : is not this true ?", "Enter Rodorigo.", "Iago. How now Rodorigo ?", "I pray you after the Lievtenant, goe.", "Mont. And tis great pitty that the Noble Moore\nShould hazzard ſuch a place, as his owne Second,", "With one ingraft Infirmity,", "It were an honest Action; to ſay so", "To the Moore.", "Iago. Not I, for this faire Iſland,", "I doe love Caffio well : and would doe much", "To cure him of this evill. But harke, what noy ſe ?", "Enter Caffio pursuing Rodorigo.", "Caf. You Rogue: you Rafcall.", "Mon. What's the matter Lieutenant ?", "Caf. A Knave teach me my duty ? He beat the", "Knave into a Twigg en Bottle.", "Rod. Beate me.", "Caf. Doft thou prate, Rogue ?", "Mon. Nay, good Lievtenant :", "I pray you fir, hold your hand.", "Caf. Let me goe (fir)", "Or He know you ore the Mazzard.", "Mon. Come, come : you're Dranke.", "Caffio. Dranke ?", "Iago. Away I ſay : goe out and cry a Mutiny.", "Nay good Lieutenant. Alas Gentlemen :", "Helpe hoa. Lieutenant. Sir Montano :", "Helpe maſters. Here's a goodly Watch indeed.", "Who's that which rings the Bell: Diablo, hoa :", "The towne will rife. Fie, ſie Lieutenant,", "You be ſham'd for ever.", "Enter Othello, and Attendants.", "Othe. What is the matter here ?", "Mon. I bleed ſtill, I am hurt, but not to th' death.", "Othe. Hold for your lives.", "Iago. Hold hoa: Lievtenant, Sir Montano, Gentlemen :", "Have you forgot all place of ſenſe and dutie ?", "Hold. The Generall ſpeakes to you : hold for ſhame", "Oth. Why how now hoa ? From whence arifeth this ?", "Are we turn'd Turkes ? and to our ſelves doe that\nWhich heaven hath forbid the Ottamittes.", "For Chriſtian ſhame, put by this barbarous brawle :", "He that ſtirres next to carve for his owne rage,", "Holds his ſoule light : He dies upon his Motion.", "Silence that dreadfull Bell, it frights the Ifle,", "From her propriety. What is the matter, Maſlers.", "Honeſt Iago, that looks dead with grieving,", "Speake : who began this ? On thy love I charge thee ?", "Iago. I do not know : Friends all, but now, even now\nIn Quarter, and in terms like Bride and Groome", "Deveſting them for Bed : and then, but now :", "(As if ſome Planet had unwitted men)", "Swords out, and tilting one at others breakfasts,", "In opposition bloody. I cannot ſpeak", "Any beginning to this peevish oddes.", "And would in action glorious, I had left", "Thofe legges that brought me to a part of it.", "Othe. How comes it (Michael) you are thus forgot?", "Caf. I pray you pardon me, I cannot ſpeak.", "Othe. Worthy Montano, you were want to be civil :", "The gravitie and ſtilleſe of your youth", "The world hath noted. And your name is great", "In mouthes of wifeſt Cenſure. What's the matter", "That you unlace your reputation thus,", "And ſpend your rich opinion, for the name", "Of a night-brawler ? Give me anſwer to it.", "Mon. Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger,", "Your Officer Iago can informe you,", "While I ſpare ſpeech which ſomething now offends me.", "Of all that I doe know, nor know I ought", "By me; that's faſd, or done amſſe this night,", "Vnleſſe ſeffe-charity be ſometimes a vice,", "And to defend our ſelves, it be a finne", "When violence affayles us.", "Othe. Now by heaven,", "My blood begins my ſaſer Guides to rule,", "And paffion (having my beſt judgement coiliſed)", "Aſſayes to leade the way. If I once ſtirre,", "Or doe but life this Ame, the beſt of you", "Shall ſinke in my reſbuke. Give me to know", "How this ſoule Rout began : W ho ſet it on,", "And he that is approv'd in this offence,", "Though he had twinn'd with me, both at a birth,", "Shall ſooſe me. What in a towne of warre,", "Yet wildered the people hearts brim-full of ſeare,", "To manage private, and domeſtick Quarreil ?", "In night, and on the Court and Guard of aſſeſie?", "Tis monſtrous : Iago, who began't ?", "Mon. If partially Aſſin'd, or league in office,", "Thou doſt deliver more, or leſſe than truth,", "Thou art no ſouldier.", "Iago. Touch me not ſoere,", "I had rather have this tongue cut from my mouth,\nThan it ſhould doe offence to Michael Caffio.", "Yet I perſwade my ſelfe, to ſpeak e ſo the truth", "Shall nothing wrong him. This it is Generall :", "Montano and my ſelfe being in ſpeech,", "There comes a Fellow, crying out for helpe,", "And Caffio following him with determin'd Sword,", "To execute upon him. Sir, this Gentleman,", "Steps into Caffio, and intreats his paſſe :", "My ſelfe, the crying ſellow did purſue,", "Left by his clamour (as it ſo fell out)", "The Towne might fall in fright. He, (ſwift of foot)", "Out-ran my purpose : and I return'd the rather", "For that I heard the clinke and fall of ſwords,", "And Caffio high in oath : Which till to night", "I nere might ſay before. When I came backe", "(For this was briefe) I found them cloſe together", "At blow, and thraſt, even as again

the Moore of Venice.

143

Othe. I know Iago

Thy honestie, and love doth mince this matter,
Making it light to Caffio: Caffio, I love thee,
But never more be Officer of mine.

Enter Defdemona attended.

Looke if my gentle Love be not rais'd up :
Ile make thee an example.

Def. What is the matter (Deere ?)

Othe. All's well, Sweeting :

Come away to bed. Sit for your hurts,

My selfe will be your Surgeon. Lead him off :

Iago, looke with care about the Towne,

And silence thate whom this vile brawle diftracted.

Come Defdemona, 'tis the Souldiers life,

To have their Balmy flumbers wak'd with fire. Exit.

Iago. What are you hurt Lieutenant ?

Caf. I, paft all Surgery.

Iago. Marry Heaven forbid.

Caf. Reputation, Reputation, Reputation: Oh I have
loft my Reputation. I have loft the immortall part of my
felfe, and what remaines is beftall. My Reputation, Iago,
my Reputation.

Iago. As I am an honest man I had thought you had
received fome bodily wound; there is more fence in that
then in Reputation. Reputation is an idle, and moft felfe
impoſition; oft got without merit, and loft without de-
ferving. You have loft no Reputation at all, unleſſe you
repute your ſelfe ſuch a loofer. What man, there are
more ways to recover the Generall againe. You are
but now caſt in his moode, (a puniſhment more in poli-
cie, then in malice) even ſo as one would beate his of-
fenceſeleſſe dogge, to affright an Imperious Lyon, Sueto
him againe and he's yours.

Iago. I will rather ſue to bee deſpis'd, then to deceive
ſo good a Commander, with ſo flight, ſo drunken, and ſo
indifcreet an Officer. Drunkue ? And ſpeake Parrat ? And
ſquable ? Swagger ? ſwearc ? And diſcourſe Fuſtian
withones owne ſhaddow ? Oh thou invifible ſpirit of
Wine, if thou haſt no name to be knowne by, let us call
thee Divell.

Iago. What was hee that you follow'd with your
Sword ? What had he done to you ?

Caf. I know not.

Iago. Is't possible ?

Caf. I remember a maffe of things, but nothing di-
flinely : a Quarrell, but nothing wherefore. Oh, that
men should put an Enemie in their mouths, to ſpeake a-
way their Braines ? that wee ſhould with joy pleafance,
rerell and applaſe, transforme our ſelves into Beaſts.

Iago. Why? But you are now well enough: how came
you thus recovered?

Caf. It hath please'd the divell drunkeſſe, to give
place to the divell wrath, one unperſectneſſe ſhewes me
another, to make me frankly deſpife my ſelfe.

Iago. Come, you are too severe a Moraller. As the
Time, the Place, and the Condition of this Country ſtands
I could hartily with this had not beſalne: but ſince it is,
as it is, mend it for your owne good.

Caf. I will aske him for my Place againe, hee ſhall tell
me, I am a drunkard : had I as many mouthes as Hydra,
chuch an answer would ſtop them all. To bee now a fen-
fible man, by and by a Foole, and prefentely a Beaſt. Oh
flange! Every inordinate cup is unbleſſ'd, and the Ingre-
dient is a divell.

Iago. Come, come: good wine, is a good familla'
Creature, if it be well us'd; exclaine no more againſt it.
And good Lieutenant, I thinke, you thinke I love
you.

Caffio. I have well approved it, Sir, I drunke?

Iago. You, or any man living, may be drunk at a time
man. I tell you what you ſhall do: Our Generals Wife,
is now the Generall. I may ſay so, in this reſpect,
that he hath devoted, and given up himſelfe to the con-
templation, marke : and devotement of her parts and
Graces. Conſeſſe your ſelfe freely to her : Importune
her helpe to put you in your place againe. She is of ſo
ſice, ſo kinde, ſo apt, ſo bleſſed a diſpoſition, ſhe holds
it a vice in her goodneſſe, not to do more then ſhe is re-
queſted. This broken joynt betweene you, and her huf-
band, entreat her to ſplinter. And my Fortunes againſt
any lay worth naming, this cracker of your love, ſhall grow
ſtonger, then it was before.

Caffio. You advife me well.

Iago. I proteſt in the ſinceritie of Love, and honest kind-
neſſe.

Caffio. I thinke it freely : and betimes in the morning,
I will beſeech the vertuous Defdemona to undertake for
me: I am deſperate of my Fortunes if they check me.

Iago. You are in the right : good night Lieutenant, I
muſt to the Watch.

Caffio. Good night, honest Iago.

Exit Caffio.

Iago. And what's he then,
That fayes I play the Villaine ?

When this advice is free I give, and honest,
Proba! to thinking, and indeed the courſe
To win the Moore againe.

For't is moſt caſe

Th' inclyning Defdemona to ſubdue

In any honest Suite. She's fram'd as fruitefull

As the free Elements. And then for her

To win the Moore, were to renowne his Baptifme,

All Scales, and Simbols of redeemed fin :

His Soule is ſo enfetter'd to her Love,

That ſhe may make, unmake, doe what ſhe lift:

Even as her appetite ſhall play the god,

With his weake Function. How am I then a Villaine,

To Connfell Caffio to this parallelle courſe,

Directly to his good ? Divinitie of hell,

When divells will the blackeſt finnes put on,

They do ſuggeſt at firſt with heavenly ſhewes,

As I do now. For whiles this honest Foole

Plies Defdemona, to repaire his Fortune,

And ſhe for him, pleades strongly to the Moore,

Ile powre this peſtility into his care :

That ſhe repeales him, for her bodies Luft,

And by how much ſhe ſtrives to do him good,

She ſhall undoe her Credite with the Moore.

So will I turne her vertue into pitch,

And out of her owne goodneſſe make the Net,

That ſhall en-maſh them all.

How now Rodorigo?

Entet Rodorigo.

Rodorigo. I doe follow heree in the Chace, not
like a Hound that hunts, but one that filles up the
Crie. My Mony is almoſt ſpent; I have beene to night
exceedingly well Cudgell'd: And I thinke the ille
will

XX

the Moore of Venice.

345

Iago. My Lord, I would I might intreat your Honor
To can this thing no farther : Leave it to time,
Although't is fit that Caffio have his place;
For sure he filles it up with great Ability;
Yet if you pleafe, to put him off a while :
You shall by that perceive him, and his meanes a:
Note if your Lady straine his Entertainment
With any strong, or vehement importunitie,
Much will be fene in that: In the meane time,
Let me be thought too bufie in my fears,
(As worthy caufe I have to feare I am)

And hold her free, I do befeech your Honor:

Ob. Feare not my government.

Iago. I once more take my leave.

Ob. This Fellow's of exceeding honefy,
And knowes all Quantities with a learn'd Spirit
Of humane dealings. If I do prove her Haggard,
Though that her leffes were my deere heart-ftrings,
I'd whittle her off, and let her downe the winde
To prey at Fortune. Haply, for I am blacke,
And have not thofe soft parts of Converſation
That Chambers have : Or for I am declin'd
Into the vale of yeares (yet that's not much)
She's gone. I am abus'd, and my reelefe
Muft be to loath her. Oh Curfe of Marriage!
That we can call theſe delicate Creatures ours,
And not their Appetites ? I had rather be a Toad,
And live upon the Vapour of a Dungeon.
Then keefe a corner in the thing I love
For others uſes. Yet 'tis the plague to Great-ones,
Preotigat'd are they leſſe then the Bafe,
'Tis deftiny unfhunnable, like death :
Even then, this forſhed plague is Fated to us,
When we do quicken. Looke where ſhe comes :

Enter Defdemona and ſEmilia.

If ſhe be falſe, Heaven mock'd it ſelfe:
Ile not beleeve't.

Daf. How now, my deere Othello?

My dinner, and the generous Iſlanders
By you invited, do attend your preſence.

Ob. I am to blame.

Def. Why do you ſpeak so faintly ?

Are you not well ?

Ob. I have a paine upon my Forehead heere.

Def. Why that's with watching, 'twill away again.
Let me but binde it hard, within this houre
It will be well.

Ob. Your Napkin is too little:

Let it alone : Come, Ile go in with you.

Exit.

Def. I am very forſory that you are not well.

Emil. I am glad I have found this Napkin :

This was her firſt remembrance from the Moore,
My wayward Husband hath a hundred times
Woo'd me to ſteale it. But ſhe ſo loves the Token,
(For he conjur'd her, ſhe should ever keefe it)
That ſhe referves it evermore about her,
Tokiffe, and talke to. Ile have the worke tane out,
And giv't Iago: what he will do with it

Heaven knowes, not I :

I nothing, but to pleafe his Fantafie.

Enter Iago.

Iago. How now ? What do you heere alone ?

Emil. Do not you chide : I have a thing for you.

Iago. You have a thing for me :

It is a common thing —

Emil. Hah ?

Iago. To havea foolish wife.

Emil. Ob, is that all ? What will you give me now
For that fame Handkerchife.

Iago. What Handkerchieſe ?

Emil. What Handkerchieſe ?

Why that the Moore firſt gave to Defdemona,
That which ſo often you did bid me ſteale.

Iago. Haſt ſtolne it from her ?

Emil. No: but ſhe let it drop by negligence,
And to th' advantage, I being here, took't up:
Looke, heere 'tis.

Iago. A good wench, give it me.

Emil. What will you do with't that you have bene
ſo earned to have me filch it?

Iago. Why, what is that to you ?

Emil. If it be not for ſome purpofe of import,
Giv't me againe. Poore Lady, ſhee'! run mad
When ſhe ſhall lacke it.

Iago. Be nor acknownereon't :

I have uſe for it. Go, leave me
I will in Caffio's Lodging loose this Napkin,
Aud let him finde it. Trifles light as ayre,
Are to the jealous, confirmations ſtrong,

Exit Emil.

As proofes of holy Writ. This may do ſomeſhing.
The Moore already changes with my poyſons,
Dangerous conceites, are in their Natures poyſons,
Which at the firſt are ſcarle found to diſlaſſe :

But with a little act upon the blood,
Burne like the Mines of Sulphure. I did ſay so.

Enter Othello.

Looke where he comes : Not Poppy nor Mandragora,
Nor all the drowſie Syrups of the world
Shall ever medicine thee to that ſweete ſleepe
Which thou owd't yefterday.

Ob. Ha, ha, falſe to mee ?

Iago. Why how now Generall? No more of that.

Obie. Anant, be gone : Thou haſt fet me on the Racket:

I ſware 'tis better to be much abus'd,
Then but to know't a little.

Iago. How now, my Lord?

Obie. What ſent had I, in her ſtolne hours of Luſt?

I faw't not, thought it not: it harm'd not me :

I ſlept the next night well, ſed well, was free, and merry.

I found not Caffio's kiffes on her Lippes :

He that is robb'd, nor wanting what is ſtolne,
Let him not know't, and he's not robb'd at all.

Iago. I am forry to heare this ?

Ob. I had beene happy if the generall Campe,
Pyoners and all, had taſted her ſweet Body,
So I had nothing knowne. Oh now, for ever
Farewell the Tranquill minde; farewell Content;
Farewell the plumed Troopes, and the bigge Warres,
That make Ambition, Vertue 1 Oh farewell,
Farewell the neighboring Steed, and the ſhirl Trumpe,
The Spirit-flirring Drum, th' ſare-piercing Fife,
The Royall Banner, and all Quality.

Pride, Pompe and Circumſtance of glorious Warre :
And O you mortall Engines, whoſe rude throates
Th' immortall Loves dread Clamours counterfeit,

Farewell : Othello's Occupation's gone.

Iago. Is't poffible my Lord?

Ob. Villaine, be ſure thou prove my Love's Whore :
Befure of it : Give me the Ocular proofe,

xx 3

Or

["The Tragedie of Othello.", "Or by the worth of mine eternall Soule,", "Thou had't it bin better hava bin borne a Dog", "Then anſwere my wak'd wrath.", "Iago. Is't come to this?", "Oth. Make me to see't : or (at the leaſt) to prove it,", "That the probation beare no Hindge, nor Loope,", "To hang a doubt on: Or woe upon thy life.", "Iago. My Noble Lord.", "Oth. If thou do'ſt flander her, and torture me,", "Never pray more : Abandon all remorſe", "On Horrors head, Horrors accumulate,", "Doe deeds to make Heaven weepe, all Earth amaz'd;", "For nothing canſt thou to damnation adde,", "Greater then that.", "Iago. O Grace ! O Heaven forgive me!", "Are you a man ? Have you a Soule ? or Senſe ?", "God buy you: take mine Office. Oh wretched Foole,", "That lov't it to make thine Honesty, a Vice !", "Oh monſtrous world! Take note, take note (O World)", "To be direct and honest, is not ſafe.", "I hank you for this profit, and from hence", "Ile love no friend, fifth love breeds ſuch offence.", "Oth. Nay, ſtay : thon should it be honest.", "Iago. I hould be wife, for honesty's a Foole,", "And loſes that it workes for.", "Oth. By the World,", "I thinke my Wife be honest, and thinke ſhe is not:", "I thinke that thou art juſt, and thinke thou art not :", "Ile have ſome proofe. My name that was as freſh", "As Diav's Vifage, is now begrim'd and blacke", "As mine owne face. If there be Cords or Knives,", "Poyſon, or Fire, or ſuffocating itreames.", "Ile not indure it. Would I were ſatisfied.", "Iago. I fee you are eaten up with paſſion :", "I do repent me, that I put it to you,", "You would be ſatisfied ?", "Oth. Would, Nay, and I will.", "Iago. And may : but how? How ſatisfied, my Lord ?", "Would you the ſuper -vifion groſſely gape on ?", "Behold her topp'd ?", "Oth. Death, and damnation. Oh !", "Iago. It were a tedious difficulty. I thinke,", "To bring to that profit : Damne them then,", "If ever mortall eyes do fee them boulſter", "More then their owne. What then? How then ?", "What ſhall I ſay ? Where's Satisſaction ?", "It is impoffible you ſhould fee this,", "Were they as prime as Goates, as hot as Monkeys,", "As ſalt as Wolves in pride, and Fooles as groſſe", "As Ignorance, made drunke. But yet, I ſay,", "If imputation and ſtrong circumſtances,", "Which leade directly to the doore of Truth,", "Will give you ſatisfaction, you might have't.", "Oth. Give me a living reaſon ſhe's diſloyall.", "Iago. I do not like the Office.", "But fifth I am entred in this cauſe to farre", "(Prick'd root' by fooliſh Honesty, and Love)", "I will go on. I lay with (Aſſio lately,", "And being troubled wit a raging tooth,", "I could not ſleepe. There are a kinde of men,", "So loofe of Soule, that in their ſleepes will mutter", "Their Affayres : one of this kinde is Caffio :", "In ſleepe I heard him ſay, ſweet Deſdemona,", "Let us be wary , let us hide our Loves,", "And then (Sir) would he gripe, and wring my hand :", "Cry, oh ſweet Creaſure : then kiffe me hard,", "As if he pluckt up kiffes by the rootes,", "That grew upon my lippes, laid his Leg ore my Thigh,", "And ſigh, and kiffe, and then cry curſed Fate,", "That gave thee to the Moore.", "Oth. O monſtrous ! monſtrous !", "Iago. Nay this was but his Dreame.", "Oth. But this denoted a ſore-gone concluſion,", "Tis a ſhrew'd doubt, though it be but a Dreame.", "Iago. And this may helpe to thicken other proofes,", "That do demonſtrate thinly.", "Oth. Ile teare her all to peeces.", "Iago. Nay yet be wife ; yet we fee nothing done,", "She may be honest yet : Tell me but this,", "Have you not ſometimes feene a Handkerchieſe", "Spotted with strawberries, in your wives hand ?", "Oth. I gave her ſuch a one : 'twas my firſt gift", "Iago. I know not that : but ſuch a Handkerchieſe", "(I am ſure it was your wives) did I to day", "See Caffio wipe his Beard with.", "Oth. If it be that.", "Iago. If it be that, or any, if't was hers,", "It ſpeakes against her with the other proofes.", "Oth. O that the ſlave had forty thouand lives :", "One is too poore, too weake for my revenge.", "Now do I fee't is true, Looke heere Iago,", "All my fond love thus do I blow to Heaven. Tis gone,", "Arife blacke vengance, from the hollow hell,", "Yeeld up (O Love) thy Crowne and hearted Throre", "To tyrannous Hate. Swell boſome with thy fraught,", "For 'tis of Aſpickes tongues.", "Iago. Yet be content.", "Oth. Oh blood, blood, blood.", "Iago. Patience I ſay : your minde may change.", "Oth. Never Iago. Like to the Ponticke Sea,", "Whofe Icic Current, and compulſive course,", "Nev'r keepes retiring ebbe, but keepes due on", "To the Proponticke, and the Helleſpont :", "Even ſo my bloody thoughts, with violent pace", "Shall nev'r looke backe, nev'r ebbe to humble Love,", "Till that a capable and wide Revenge", "Swallow them up. Now by yond Marble Heaven,", "In the due reverence of a Sacred vow,", "I heere engage my words—", "Iago. Donot rife yet :", "Witneſſe you ever-burning Lights above,", "You Elements, that clip us round about.", "Witneſſe that heere Iago doth give up", "The execution of his wit, hands, heart,", "To wrong'd Otheko's Service. Let him command.", "And to obey ſhall be in me remorſe,", "What bloody buſineſſe ever.", "Oth. I greeter your love,", {"bbox": [688,

the Moore of Venice.

## Scena Quarta.

Enter Defdemona, Æmilia, and Clowne.

Def. Do you know Sirrah, where Lieutenant Caffio lyes?

Clow. I dare not say he lies any where.

Def. Why man?

Clo. He's a Soldier, and for mee to say a Souldierlyes, 'tis tabbing.

Def. Go to : where lodges he?

Clo. To tell you where he lodges, is to tell you where I lye.

Def. Can any thing be made of this?

Clo. I know not where he lodges, and for mee to de-ve a lodging, and say he lyes heere, or he lyes there, were to lye in mine owne throat.

Def. Can you enquire him out ? and be edified by', re-port?

Clo. I will Catechize the world for him, that is, make Quetions, and by them anfwer.

Def. Secke him, bid him come hither : tell him, I have moov'd my Lord on his behalfe, and hope all will be well.

Clo. To do this, is within the compasse of mans Wit, and therefore I will attempt the doing it.

Exit Clo.

Def. Where should I loofe the Handkerchiefe, Æ-milza?

Æmil. I know not Madam.

Def. Belceve me, I had rather have loft my purfe
Fulle of Cruzadoes. And but my Noble Moore
I true of minde, and made of no fuch bafeñefle,
As jealous Creatures are, it was enough
To put him to ill-thinking.

Æmil. Is he not jealous?

Def. Who he ? I thinke the Sun where he was borne,
Drew all fuch humors from him.

Æmiliza. Looke where he comes.

Enter Æthello.

Def. I will not leave him now, till Caffio be
Call'd to him. How is't with you, my Lord ?

Oth. Well my good Lady. Oh hardnes to diſlemble !

How do you, Defdemona ?

Def. Well, my good Lord.

Oth. Give me your hand,

This hand is moyft my Lady,

Def. It hath felt no age, nor knowne no forrow.

Oth. This argues fruitfulneſſe, and liberall heart :

Hot, hot, and moyft. This hand of yours requires

A ſequeſter from Liberty : Faſting, and Prayer,

Much Caſtigation, Exercife devout.

For here's a young and sweating Divell here:

That commonly rebels : Tis a good hand,

A Franke one.

Def. You may (indeed) lay fo :

For 'twas that hand that gave away my heart.

Oth. A liberall hand. The hearts of old, gave hands:

But our new Heraldry is hands, not hearts.

Def. I cannot ſpeake of this:

Come, now your promife.

Oth. What promife, Chucke?

Def. I have ſent to bid Caffio come ſpeake with you.

Oth. I have a ſalt and ſorry Rhewme offends me :

Lend me thy handkerchieſe.

Def. Heere my Lord.

Oth. That which I gave you.

Def. I have it not about me.

Oth. Not?

Def. No indeed, my Lord.

Oth. That's a ſault : That Handkerchieſe

Did an Ægypttan to my Mother give :

She was a Charmer, and could almoſt read.

The thoughts of people, She told her, while ſhe kept it,
'I would make her Amiable, ſubdue my Father

Intirely to her love : but if ſhe loft it,

Or made a Guif of it, my Fathers eye.

Should hold her loathed, and his Spirits should hunt

After new Fancies. She dying gave it me,
And bid me (when my Fate would have me Wiv'd)

To give it her. I did ſo, and take heede on't,

Make it a Darling, like your precious eye.

To loofe't; or give't away, were ſuch perdition,

As nothing eſle could match.

Def. Is't poſſible?

Oth. Tis true, there's Magicke in the web of it :

A Sybill that had numbred in the world.

The Sun to course two hundred compaffes,

In her propheticke ſurie ſow'd the worke :

The Wormes were hallowed, that did breede the Silke,
And it was dyede in Mummey, which the Skilſkill

Conferv'd of Maidens hearts.

Def. Indeed ? Is't true ?

Oth. Moſt veritable, therefore looke too't well.

Def. Then would the Heaven, that I had never feene't

Oth. Ha? wherefore ?

Def. Why do you ſpeake ſo ſtartingly, and rafh?

Oth. Is't loft ? Is't gon ? Speak, is't out o'th' way ?

Def. Bleſſe us.

Oth. Say you ?

Def. It is not loft : but what and if it were ?

Oth. How ?

Def. I ſay it is not loft.

Oth. Fetch't, let me fee't.

Def. Why fo I can : but I will not now :

This is a tricke to put me from my ſuite,

Pray you let Caffio be receiv'd againe.

Oth. Fetch me the Handkerchieſe,

My minde miſ-gives.

Def. Come, come : you'l never meete a more ſuſiſci-
ent man.

Oth. The Handkerchieſe.

Def. A man that all his time

Hath founded his good Fortunes on your love ;

Shar'd dangers with you .

Oth. The Handkerchieſe.

Def. Infooth, you are too blame.

Oth. Away.

Exit Othello.

Æmil. Is not this man jealous ?

Def. I nev'r ſaw this before.

Sure, there's ſome wonder in this Handkerchieſe,
I am moſt unhappy in the loſſe of it.

Æmil. Tis not a yeare or two ſhewes us a man :

They are all but ſomackes, and we all but Food,

They eat us hungerly, and when they are full

They belch us.

Enter Iago, and Caffio.

Looke you, Caffio and my Husband,

Iago: There is no other way : 'tis ſhe muſt doot :
And loe the happineſſe : go, and importune her.

Defa

348

The Tragedie of Othello.

Def. How now" (goud Caffio) whrt's the newes with you?

Caffio. Madam, my former suite. I do befeech you,
That by your vertuous meanes, I may againe
Exift, and be a member of his love,
Whom I, with all the Office of my heart
Intirely honour, I would not be delayed.
If my offence, be of such mortall kinde,
That not my Service paft, nor prefent Sorrowes,
Nor purpos'd merit in futurity,
Can ranfome me into his love againe,
But to know fo, muſt be my benefit :
So ſhall I cloath me in a fore'd content,
And flut my ſelfe up in ſome other course
To Fortunes Almes.

Def. Alas (thrice-gentle Caffio)

My Advocation is not now in Tune;
My Lord, is not my Lord; nor ſhould I know him;
Were he in Favour, as in Humour alter'd.
So helpe me every ſpirit ſanſtified,
As I have ſpoken for you all my beſt,
And ſtood wittin the blanke of his diſpleasure
For my free ſpeech. You muſt a while be patient
What I can do, I will: and more I will
Then for my ſelfe I dare. Let that ſuſcire you.

Iago. Is my Lord angry?

Emil. He went hence but now:

And certainly in ſtrange unquietneſſe.
Iago. Can he be angry ? I have ſeeue the Cannon
When it hath blowne his Rankes into the Ayre,
And like the Divell from his very Arme
Puff't his owne Brother : And is he angry ?
Something of moment then; I will go meet him,
There's matter in't indeed, if he be angry,
Exit.

Def. I prythee do ſo. Something ſure of State,
Either from Venice, or ſome unhatch'd praeſiſe
Made demonſtrable heere in Cyprus, to him,
Hath pudled his cleare Spirit : and in ſuch cafes,
Mens Natureſes wrangle with inferiour things,
Though great ones are their objeſt. 'Tis even ſo.
For let our finger ake, and it endues
Our other heathfull members, even to a ſenſe
Of paine. Nay, we muſt thinke menare not Gods,
Nor of them looke for ſuch obſervance
As fits the Bridall, Behſrew me much, Aemilia,
I was (unhandſome Warrior, as I am)
Arraigning his unkindeſſe with my ſoule :
But now I finde, I had ſuborn'd the Witneſſe,
And he's Indited falſely.

Emil. Pray heaven it be

State matters, as you thinke, and no Conception,
Nor no Jealous ſo, concerning you.

Def. Alas the day, I never gave him cauſe.

Emil. But Jealous ſoules will not be anſwer'd ſo;
They are not ever jealous for the cauſe,
But jealous, for they're jealous. It is a Monſter
Begot upon it ſelfe, borne on it ſelfe.

Def. Heaven keepe the Monſter from Othell's mind.

Emil. Lady, Amen.

Def. I will go ſeeke him. Caffio, walke heere about:
If I do finde him fit, Ile move your ſuite,
And ſeeke to effect it to my uttermoſt
Caf. I humbly thanke your Ladyſhip.

Enter Bianca.

Bian. 'Save you (Friend Caffio.)

Caffio. What make you from home?

How is't with you, my moſt faire Bianca?

Indeed (ſweet Love) I was comming to your houſe.

Bian. And I was going to your Lodging, Caffio.
What ? keepe a weeke away ? Scaven dayes, and Nights?
Eight ſcore eight houres ? And Loves abſent howers
More tedious then the Diall, eight ſcore times ?
Oh wearie reck'ning.

Caffio. Pardon me, Bianca:

I have this while with leaden thoughts beene preſt,
But I ſhall in a more continate time
Strike off this ſcore of abſence. Sweet Bianca
Take me this worke out.

Bianca. Oh Caffio, whence came this?

This is ſome token from a newer Friend,
To the felt-Abſence: now I ſeele a Caufe :

Is't come to this ? Well, Well.

Caffio. Go to, woman :

Throw your vilde guſſes in the Divels teeth,
From whence you have them. You are jealous now.
That this is from ſome Muſtris, ſome remembrance;
No, in good troth Bianca.

Bian. Why, who's it?

Caffio. I know not neither :
I found it in my Chamber,
I like the worke well; Ere it be demanded
(As like enough it will) I would have it copped:
Take it, and doot, and leave me for this time.

Bian. Leave you? wherefore?

Caffio. I do attend heere on the Generall,
And thinke it no addition nor my wifh
To have h m ſee me woman'd.

Bian. Why, I pray you?

Caffio. Not that I love you not.

Bian. But that you do not love me,
I pray you bring me on the way a little,
And ſay, if I ſhall fee you ſoone at night?

Caffio. Tis but a little way that I can bring you,
For I attend heere, But Ile fee you ſoone.

Bian. 'Tis very good : I muſt be circumſtanc'd.

Exeunt Omnes.

Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Enter Othello, and Iago.

Iago. Will you thinke ſo?

Oth. Thinke ſo, Iago?

Iago. What to kiffle in private?

Oth. An unauthoriz'd kiffle ?

Iago. Or to be naked with her Friends in bed,
An houre, or more, not meaning any harme?

Oth. Naked in bed (Iago) and not meane harme ?
It is hypocriſe againſt the Divell :

They that meane vertuouſly, and yet do ſo,

The Divell their vertue tempts, and they tempt Heaven.

Iago. If they do nothing, 'tis a Veniall ſlip :

But if I give my wife a Handkerchieſe.

Oth. What then?

Iago. Why then 'tis hers (my Lord) and beings hers,
She may (I thinke) beſtow't on any man,

Othe. She is Protecſtreſſe of her honor too:
May ſhe give that ?

Iago.

the Moore of Venice.

349

**Iago.** Her honor is an effence that's not feene,
They have it very oft, that have it not.
But for the Handkerchiefe.

**Otho.** By heaven I would moft gladly have forgot it:
Thou faidst (oh, it comes ore my memory,
As doth the Raven o're the infectious houfe :
Boading to all) he had my Handkerchiefe.

**Iago.** I: what of that?

**Oth.** That's not so good now:

**Iago.** What if I had faid, I had feene him do you wrong?
Or heare me fay (as Knaves be fuch abroad,
Who having by their owne importunate ſuſe,
Or voluntary dotage of ſome Miftris,
Convinced or ſupply'd them cannot chufe
But they muſt blab.)

**Oth.** Hath he faid any thing?

**Iago.** He hath (my Lord) but be you well affur'd,
No more then he'le un-ſwere.

**Oth.** What hath he faid ?

**Iago.** Why, that he did: I know not what he did.

**Oth.** What? What?

**Iago.** Lye.

**Oth.** With her?

**Iago.** With her? On her: what you will.

**Oth.** Lye with her ? lye on her ? We ſay lye on her,
when they be-lye-her. Lye with her: that's full ſome:
Handkerchiefe: Confeſſions: Handkerchiefe. To con-
ſſe, and be hang'd for his labour. Firſt, to be hang'd,
and then to conſſe: I tremble at it. Nature would not
inveſt her ſelfe in ſuch ſhad owing paſſion, without ſome
Inſtruction. It is not words that ſhakes me thus, (pifh)
Noſes, Eares, and Lippes: is't poffible. Conſeſſe? Hand-
kerchiefe ? O divell.

*Falls in a Traunce.*

**Iago.** Worke on,

My Medicine workes. Thus credulous Fooles are caught,
And many worthy, and chaſt Dames even thus.

(All guileſſe) meete reproach: what hoa? My Lord?

My Lord, I ſay Othello.

*Enter Caffio.*

**How now Caffio?**

**Caff.** What's the matter ?

**Iago.** My Lord is falſe into an Epilepſe,

This is his ſecond Fit: he had one yefderday.

**Caff.** Rub him about the Temples.

**Iago.** The Lethargie muſt have his quyet courſe :
If not, he foames at mouth: and by and by
Breakes out to ſavage madneſſe. Looke, he ſirres :
Do you withdraw your ſelfe a little while;
He will recover ſtraight: when hee is gone,
I would on great occaſion, ſppeake with you.

How is it Generall ? Have you not hurt your hands?

**Oth.** Doſt thou mocke me?

**Iago.** I mocke you not, by Heaven:

Would you would beare your Fortune life a Man.

**Oth.** A Horned man's a Monſter and a Beaſt.

**Iago.** There's many a Beaſt then in a populous Citty;
And many a civill Monſter.

**Oth.** Did he conſeſſe it ?

**Iago.** Good Sir, be a man :

Thinke every bearded fellow that's but yoak'd
May draw with you. There's Millions owaſt,
That nightly lye in thoſe un proper beds,

Which they dare ſware preuilaſt. Your cauſe is better.
Oh, 'tis the ſpight of hell, the Fiends Arch-mock,
To lip a wanton in a ſecre Cowch ;

And to fuppofe her chaſt. No, let me know,
And knowing what I am, I know what ſhe ſhall be.
Oh, Ob, thou art wife: 'tis certaine.

**Iago.** Stand you a while apart,

Confine your ſelfe but in a patient Lift,
Whil't you were here, o're-whelmed with your grieſe
(A paſſion moſt reſulting ſuch a man !)

**Caffio.** came hither. I ſhifred him away,

And laid good ſouſes on your Extaſſe,
Bad him anon returne: and here ſpake with me,
The which he promis'd. Do but encave your ſelfe,
And marke the Fleeres, the Gybes and notable Scornes
That dwell in every Region of his face.

For I will make him tell the Tale anew :
Where, how, how oft, how long ago, and when
He hath, and is againe to cope your wife.

I ſay, but marke his geſture: marry Patience,
Or I ſhall ſay y'are all in all in Spleene,
And nothing of a man.

**Oth.** Do't thou heare, Iago,

I will be found moſt cunning in my Patience:
But (do't thou heare) moſt bloody.

**Iago.** That's not amitſe.

But yet keepe time in all: will you withdraw ?

Now will I question Caffio of Bianca,
A Hufwife, that by ſelling her deſires

Buys her ſelfe Bread, and Cloath. It is a Creaſure
That dotes on Caffio, (as 'tis the Strumpets plague
To be-guile many, and be be-guil'd by one)

He, when he heares of her. cannot reſtraine
From the exceſſe of Laughter. Heere he comes.

*Enter Caffio.*

As he ſhall ſmile, Othello ſhall go mad :

And his unbookiſh Ielouſe muſt confervé,

Poore Caffio's ſmiles, geſtures and light behaviours
Quite in the wrong. How do you Lieutenant?

**Caff.** The worſer, that you gave me the addition,
Whofe want even killes me.

**Iago.** Ply Desdemona well, and you are ſure on't ;

Now, if this Sute lay in Bianca's downe,

How quickly ſhould you ſpeed ?

**Caff.** Alas poore Caitiffe.

**Oth.** Looke how he laughes already.

**Iago.** I never knew woman love man fo.

**Caff.** Alas poore Rogue, I thinke indeed ſhe loves me,

**Oth.** Now he denies it faintly: and laughes it out,

**Iago.** Do you heare Caffio?

**Oth.** Now he importunces him

To tellit o're: go to, well ſayd, well faid.

**Iago.** She gives it out, that you ſhall marry her.

Do you intend it ?

**Caff.** Ha, ha, ha.

**Oth.** Do ye triumph Romaine? do you triumph ?

**Caff.** I marry. What ? A cuiteron; prythe beare
Some Charitie to my wit, do not thinke it

Sounwholeſome. Ha, ha, Ia,

**Oth.** So, foſſo, fo: they laugh, that winnes.

**Iago.** Why the cry goes, that you marry her.

**Caff.** Pry thee ſay true.

**Iago.** I am a very Villaine elfe.

**Oth.** Have you ſcoar'd me; Well.

**Caff.** This is the Monkeys owne giving out :

She is perfwaded I will marry her

Out of her owne love & flattery, not out of my promife.
Otha.

the Moore of Venice.

151

Othe. Miftris.

Def. My Lord.

Othe. What would you with her, Sir?

Lod. Who I, my Lord?

Othe. I, who did wif, that I would make her turte:
Sir, she can turne, and turne: and yet go on
And turne againe. And she can weepe, Sir, weepe.
And she's obedient: as you say, obeyed.
Very obedient: proceed you in your teares.

Concerning this Sir, (oh well-painted paffion)
I am commanded home: get you away:  
Llefend for you anon. Sir I obey the Mandate.

And will returne to Venice. Hence, auaint :

Caffio shall have my Place. And Sir, to night

I do entreat, that we may fup together.

You are welcome Sir to Cyprus.

Gates, and Monkeys.

Exit.

Lod. Is this the Noble Moore, whom our full Senate
Call all in all sufficient? Is this the Nature

Whom Paffion could not shake ? Whofe folid vertue

The shot of Accident, nor dart of Chance

Could neither graze, nor pierce ?

Iago. He is much chang'd.

Lod. Are his wits faſſe? Is he not of light Braine?

Iago. He's that he is : I may not breath my censure.

What he might be : if what he might, he is not,
I would to heaven he were.

Lod. What, strike his wife?

Iago. 'Faith that was not so well; yet would I knew
That ftoake would prove the worſt.

Lod. Is it his uſe ?

Or did the Letters, worke upon his blood,

And new create his fault ?

Iago. Alas, alas :

It is not honeſt in me to ſpeake

What I have feene and knowne. You ſhall obſerve him,

And his owne courſes will denote him ſo,

That I may ſave my ſpeech: do but go after

And mark how he continues.

Lo. I am forry that I am decei'd in him.

Exeunt.

## Scena Secunda.

Enter Othello, and Emilia.

Othe. You have ſcene nothing then ?

Emil. Nor ever heard: nor ever did ſupſpect :

Othe. Yes, you have ſcene Caffio, and ſhe together.

Emil. But then I ſaw no harme: and then I heard,

Each ſyllable that breath made up betweene them.

Othe. What? Did they never whisper?

Emil. Never my Lord.

Othe. Nor fend you out o'th' way ?

Emil. Never.

Othe. To fetch her Fan, her Gloves, her mask, nor no-

Eil. Never my Lord. (thing ?)

Othe. That's strange.

Emil. I durſt (my Lord) to wager, ſhe is honest:
Lay downe my Soule at ſake: If you thinke other,

Remove your thought. It doth abufe your boſome,

If any wretch have put this in your head,

Let Heaven requite it with the Serpents curſe,

For, if ſhe be not honest, chaſſe and, true,

There's no man happy, The pureſt of their Wives
Is foule as Slander.

Othe. Bid her come hither: go.

Exit Emilia.

She faies enough: yet ſhe's a ſimple Baud

That cannot fay, as much. This is a ſubtle Whore :

A Cloſſet, Locke and Key of Villanous Secrets,

And yet ſhe'll kneele, and pray : I have ſeene her do't.

Enter Desdemona, and Emilia.

Def. My Lord, what is your will ?

Othe. Pray you Chucke come hither.

Def. What is your pleafure ?

Oth. Let me fee your eyes: looke in my face.

Def. What horrible Fancie's this?

Oth. Some of your Function Miftris :

Leave Procreants alone, and flut the doorer :

Cough, or cry hem; if any body come :

Your Mуſtlerу, your Mуſtlerу; Nay diſpatch. Exit Emi.

Def. Upon my knee, what doth your ſpeech import?

I underſtand a Fury in your words.

Othe. Why ? What art thou ?

Def. Your wife my Lord: your true and loyall wife.

Othello. Come ſware it: damne thy ſelfe, being like
one of Heaven, the divells themselves ſhould feare to
ceaze thee. Therefore bee double damn'd: I ſware thou
art honest.

Def. Heaven doth truely know it.

Othe. Heaven truely knowes, that thou art ſalfè as hell.

Def. To whom my Lord?

With whom ? How am I ſalfè?

Othe. Ah Desdemona, away, away.

Def. Alas the heavy day: why do you weepe ?

Am I the motive of theſe teares my Lord ?

If happily you my Father do ſupſpect,

An Inſtrument of this your calling backe,

Lay not your blame on me: if you have loll him,

I have loſt him too.

Othe. Had it pleas'd Heaven,

To try me with Afflietion, had they rain'd

All kind of Sores, and Shames on my bare-head :

Steep'd me in poverty to the very lippes.

Given to Captivitie, me and my utmoſt hopes.

I ſhould have found in ſome place of my Soule

A drop of patience. But alas, to make me

The fixed Figure for the time of Scorne,

To point his flow, and moving ſinger at.

Yet could I beare that too, well, very well :

But there where I have garnered up my heart,

Where either I muſt live, or beare no life,

The Fountaine from the which my entrant runnes,

Or eſſe dries up: to be diſcarded thence,

Or keepe it as a Ceſterne, for foule Toades

To knot and gender in. Turne thy complexion there :

Patience, thou youngand roſe-lipp'd Cherubin,

I heere looke grim as hell.

Def. I hope my Lord eſteemés me honest.

Othe. O I, as Sommer Flyes are in the Shambles,

That quicke n even with blowing. Oh thou weed:

Who art so lovely faire, and ſmell it ſo ſwet,

That the Sence asks at thee,

Would thou had it neuer bin borne.

Def. Alas, what ignorant ſin have I committed ?

Othe. Was this faire Paper ? This moſt goody Booke

Made to write Whore upon ? What committed,

Com-