| |
RSS Feed - Site Map - Contact |
| Bible Quotes | Aristotle Quotes | Plato Quotes | Shakespeare Quotes |
Shakespeare quotes on witMake sweet some vial; treasure thou some place, With beauty's treasure ere it be self-killed 8 Music to hear, why hear'st thou music sadly? Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy 12 When I do count the clock that tells the time, And see the brave day sunk in hideous night, When I behold the violet past prime, And sable curls all silvered o'er with white When lofty trees I see barren of leaves, Which erst from heat did canopy the herd And summer's green all girded up in sheaves Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard 21 So is it not with me as with that muse, Stirred by a painted beauty to his verse, Who heaven it self for ornament doth use, And every fair with his fair doth rehearse, Making a couplement of proud compare With sun and moon, with earth and sea's rich gems 23 As an unperfect actor on the stage, Who with his fear is put beside his part, Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage, Whose strength's abundance weakens his own heart; So I for fear of trust, forget to say, The perfect ceremony of love's rite, And in mine own love's strength seem to decay, O'ercharged with burthen of mine own love's might O learn to read what silent love hath writ, To hear with eyes belongs to love's fine wit For through the painter must you see his skill, To find where your true image pictured lies, Which in my bosom's shop is hanging still, That hath his windows glazed with thine eyes 26 Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage Thy merit hath my duty strongly knit; To thee I send this written embassage To witness duty, not to show my wit But day doth daily draw my sorrows longer, And night doth nightly make grief's length seem stronger 29 When in disgrace with Fortune and men's eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state, And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries, And look upon my self and Source: THE SONNETS 30 When to the sessions of sweet silent thought, I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste 33 Full many a glorious morning have I seen, Flatter the mountain tops with sovereign eye, Kissing with golden face the meadows green; Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy Anon permit the basest clouds to ride, With ugly rack on his celestial face, And from the forlorn world his visage hide Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace Lascivious grace, in whom all ill well shows, Kill me with spites yet we must not be foes But ah, thought kills me that I am not thought To leap large lengths of miles when thou art gone, But that so much of earth and water wrought, I must attend, time's leisure with my moan 45 The other two, slight air, and purging fire, Are both with thee, wherever I abide, The first my thought, the other my desire, These present-absent with swift motion slide For when these quicker elements are gone In tender embassy of love to thee, My life being made of four, with two alone, Sinks down to death, oppressed with melancholy So either by thy picture or my love, Thy self away, art present still with me, For thou not farther than my thoughts canst move, And I am still with them, and they with thee 55 Not marble, nor the gilded monuments Of princes shall outlive this powerful rhyme, But you shall shine more bright in these contents Than unswept stone, besmeared with sluttish time So love be thou, although to-day thou fill Thy hungry eyes, even till they wink with fulness, To-morrow see again, and do not kill The spirit of love, with a perpetual dulness O let me suffer (being at your beck) Th' imprisoned absence of your liberty, And patience tame to sufferance bide each check, Without accusing you of injury For thee watch I, whilst thou dost wake elsewhere, From me far off, with others all too near 'Tis thee (my self) that for my self I praise, Painting my age with beauty of thy days When I have seen the hungry ocean gain Advantage on the kingdom of the shore, And the firm soil win of the watery main, Increasing store with loss, and loss with store 71 No longer mourn for me when I am dead, Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell Give warning to the world that I am fled From this vile world with vilest worms to dwell O if (I say) you look upon this verse, When I (perhaps) compounded am with clay, Do not so much as my poor name rehearse; But let your love even with my life decay In me thou seest the glowing of such fire, That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, As the death-bed, whereon it must expire, Consumed with that which it was nourished by 74 But be contented when that fell arrest, Without all bail shall carry me away, My life hath in this line some interest, Which for memorial still with thee shall stay When thou reviewest this, thou dost review, The very part was consecrate to thee, The earth can have but earth, which is his due, My spirit is thine the better part of me, So then thou hast but lost the dregs of life, The prey of worms, my body being dead, The coward conquest of a wretch's knife, Too base of thee to be remembered, The worth of that, is that which it contains, And that is this, and this with thee remains Yet be most proud of that which I compile, Whose influence is thine, and born of thee, In others' works thou dost but mend the style, And arts with thy sweet graces graced be And other strains of woe, which now seem woe, Compared with loss of thee, will not seem so 116 Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments, love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove 124 If my dear love were but the child of state, It might for Fortune's bastard be unfathered, As subject to time's love or to time's hate, Weeds among weeds, or flowers with flowers gathered It fears not policy that heretic, Which works on leases of short-numbered hours, But all alone stands hugely politic, That it nor grows with heat, nor drowns with showers Who hast by waning grown, and therein show'st, Thy lovers withering, as thy sweet self grow'st 132 Thine eyes I love, and they as pitying me, Knowing thy heart torment me with disdain, Have put on black, and loving mourners be, Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain Yet do not so, but since I am near slain, Kill me outright with looks, and rid my pain 140 Be wise as thou art cruel, do not press My tongue-tied patience with too much disdain Nor are mine cars with thy tongue's tune delighted, Nor tender feeling to base touches prone, Nor taste, nor smell, desire to be invited To any sensual feast with thee alone 150 O from what power hast thou this powerful might, With insufficiency my heart to sway, To make me give the lie to my true sight, And swear that brightness doth not grace the day? Whence hast thou this becoming of things ill, That in the very refuse of thy deeds, There is such strength and warrantise of skill, That in my mind thy worst all best exceeds? Who taught thee how to make me love thee more, The more I hear and see just cause of hate? O though I love what others do abhor, With others thou shouldst not abhor my state Who comes here? Enter PAROLLES [Aside] One that goes with him it looks ill, it eats drily; marry, 'tis a wither'd pear; it was formerly better; marry, yet 'tis a wither'd pear If he were living, I would try him yet- Lend me an arm-the rest have worn me out With several applications Would God would serve the world so all the year! We'd find no fault with the tithe-woman, if I were the parson Exit STEWARD Enter HELENA Even so it was with me when I was young I shall stay here the forehorse to a smock, Creaking my shoes on the plain masonry, Till honour be bought up, and no sword worn But one to dance with Use a more spacious ceremony to the noble lords; you have restrain'd yourself within the list of too cold an adieu And, hearing your high Majesty is touch'd With that malignant cause wherein the honour Of my dear father's gift stands chief in power, I come to tender it, and my appliance, With all bound humbleness Tax of impudence, A strumpet's boldness, a divulged shame, Traduc'd by odious ballads; my maiden's name Sear'd otherwise; ne worse of worst-extended With vilest torture let my life be ended Check thy contempt; Obey our will, which travails in thy good; Believe not thy disdain, but presently Do thine own fortunes that obedient right Which both thy duty owes and our power claims; Or I will throw thee from my care for ever Into the staggers and the careless lapse Of youth and ignorance; both my revenge and hate Loosing upon thee in the name of justice, Without all terms of pity To say nothing, to do nothing, to know nothing, and to have nothing, is to be a great part of your title, which is within a very little of nothing A good traveller is something at the latter end of a dinner; but one that lies three-thirds and uses a known truth to pass a thousand nothings with, should be once heard and thrice beaten I have, sir, as I was commanded from you, Spoke with the King, and have procur'd his leave For present parting; only he desires Some private speech with you The brains of my Cupid's knock'd out; and I begin to love, as an old man loves money, with no stomach Poor lord! is't That chase thee from thy country, and expose Those tender limbs of thine to the event Of the non-sparing war? And is it I That drive thee from the sportive court, where thou Wast shot at with fair eyes, to be the mark Of smoky muskets? O you leaden messengers, That ride upon the violent speed of fire, Fly with false aim; move the still-piecing air, That sings with piercing; do not touch my lord Ambitious love hath so in me offended That barefoot plod I the cold ground upon, With sainted vow my faults to have amended It is reported that he has taken their great'st commander; and that with his own hand he slew the Duke's brother Ay, so you serve us Till we serve you; but when you have our roses You barely leave our thorns to prick ourselves, And mock us with our bareness And how mightily some other times we drown our gain in tears! The great dignity that his valour hath here acquir'd for him shall at home be encount'red with a shame as ample In good sadness, I do not know; either it is there or it is upon a file with the Duke's other letters in my tent Go thy ways, I begin to be aweary of thee; and I tell thee so before, because I would not fall out with thee Enter LAFEU Here is a pur of Fortune's, sir, or of Fortune's cat, but not a musk-cat, that has fall'n into the unclean fishpond of her displeasure, and, as he says, is muddied withal I undertook it, Vanquish'd thereto by the fair grace and speech Of the poor suppliant, who by this, I know, Is here attending; her business looks in her With an importing visage; and she told me In a sweet verbal brief it did concern Your Highness with herself I am her mother, sir, whose age and honour Both suffer under this complaint we bring, And both shall cease, without your remedy All is well ended if this suit be won, That you express content; which we will pay With strife to please you, day exceeding day Now for the love of Love and her soft hours, Let's not confound the time with conference harsh; There's not a minute of our lives should stretch Without some pleasure now Sir, sometimes when he is not Antony, He comes too short of that great property Which still should go with Antony The strong necessity of time commands Our services awhile; but my full heart Remains in use with you Our separation so abides and flies That thou, residing here, goes yet with me, And I, hence fleeting, here remain with thee Let's grant it is not Amiss to tumble on the bed of Ptolemy, To give a kingdom for a mirth, to sit And keep the turn of tippling with a slave, To reel the streets at noon, and stand the buffet With knaves that smell of sweat This common body, Like to a vagabond flag upon the stream, Goes to and back, lackeying the varying tide, To rot itself with motion Caesar, I bring thee word Menecrates and Menas, famous pirates, Make the sea serve them, which they ear and wound With keels of every kind Think on me, That am with Phoebus' amorous pinches black, And wrinkled deep in time? Broad-fronted Caesar, When thou wast here above the ground, I was A morsel for a monarch; and great Pompey Would stand and make his eyes grow in my brow; There would he anchor his aspect and die With looking on his life How much unlike art thou Mark Antony! Yet, coming from him, that great med'cine hath With his tinct gilded thee 'Good friend,' quoth he 'Say the firm Roman to great Egypt sends This treasure of an oyster; at whose foot, To mend the petty present, I will piece Her opulent throne with kingdoms O well-divided disposition! Note him, Note him, good Charmian; 'tis the man; but note him! He was not sad, for he would shine on those That make their looks by his; he was not merry, Which seem'd to tell them his remembrance lay In Egypt with his joy; but between both I did inquire it, And have my learning from some true reports That drew their swords with you If you'll patch a quarrel, As matter whole you have not to make it with, It must not be with this You have broken The article of your oath, which you shall never Have tongue to charge me with As nearly as I may, I'll play the penitent to you; but mine honesty Shall not make poor my greatness, nor my power Work without it 'Twas merry when You wager'd on your angling; when your diver Did hang a salt fish on his hook, which he With fervency drew up ENOBARBUS places them hand in hand] THE SONG Come, thou monarch of the vine, Plumpy Bacchus with pink eyne! In thy fats our cares be drown'd, With thy grapes our hairs be crown'd Octavia weeps To part from Rome; Caesar is sad; and Lepidus, Since Pompey's feast, as Menas says, is troubled With the green sickness When it appears to you where this begins, Turn your displeasure that way, for our faults Can never be so equal that your love Can equally move with them We should have met you By sea and land, supplying every stage With an augmented greeting To the boy Caesar send this grizzled head, And he will fill thy wishes to the brim With principalities The next time I do fight I'll make death love me; for I will contend Even with his pestilent scythe Ho, ho, ho! Now the witch take me if I meant it thus! Grace grow where those drops fall! My hearty friends, You take me in too dolorous a sense; For I spake to you for your comfort, did desire you To burn this night with torches O Antony, Thou mine of bounty, how wouldst thou have paid My better service, when my turpitude Thou dost so crown with gold! This blows my heart O my brave Emperor, this is fought indeed! Had we done so at first, we had droven them home With clouts about their heads Let him take thee And hoist thee up to the shouting plebeians; Follow his chariot, like the greatest spot Of all thy sex; most monster-like, be shown For poor'st diminutives, for doits, and let Patient Octavia plough thy visage up With her prepared nails Sometime we see a cloud that's dragonish; A vapour sometime like a bear or lion, A tower'd citadel, a pendent rock, A forked mountain, or blue promontory With trees upon't that nod unto the world And mock our eyes with air Eros!- I come, my queen.- Eros!- Stay for me; Where souls do couch on flowers, we'll hand in hand, And with our sprightly port make the ghosts gaze My lord! O, wither'd is the garland of the war, The soldier's pole is fall'n! Young boys and girls Are level now with men This is his sword; I robb'd his wound of it; behold it stain'd With his most noble blood If he please To give me conquer'd Egypt for my son, He gives me so much of mine own as I Will kneel to him with thanks Caesar through Syria Intends his journey, and within three days You with your children will he send before Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that which God made, a poor unworthy brother of yours, with idleness To-morrow, sir, I wrestle for my credit; and he that escapes me without some broken limb shall acquit him well Indeed, there is Fortune too hard for Nature, when Fortune makes Nature's natural the cutter-off of Nature's wit Peradventure this is not Fortune's work neither, but Nature's, who perceiveth our natural wits too dull to reason of such goddesses, and hath sent this natural for our whetstone; for always the dullness of the fool is the whetstone of the wits Yonder they lie; the poor old man, their father, making such pitiful dole over them that all the beholders take his part with weeping No, thy words are too precious to be cast away upon curs; throw some of them at me; come, lame me with reasons Then there were two cousins laid up, when the one should be lam'd with reasons and the other mad without any Therefore devise with me how we may fly, Whither to go, and what to bear with us; And do not seek to take your charge upon you, To bear your griefs yourself, and leave me out; For, by this heaven, now at our sorrows pale, Say what thou canst, I'll go along with thee Were it not better, Because that I am more than common tall, That I did suit me all points like a man? A gallant curtle-axe upon my thigh, A boar spear in my hand; and- in my heart Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will- We'll have a swashing and a martial outside, As many other mannish cowards have That do outface it with their semblances To-day my Lord of Amiens and myself Did steal behind him as he lay along Under an oak whose antique root peeps out Upon the brook that brawls along this wood! To the which place a poor sequest'red stag, That from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt, Did come to languish; and, indeed, my lord, The wretched animal heav'd forth such groans That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat Almost to bursting; and the big round tears Cours'd one another down his innocent nose In piteous chase; and thus the hairy fool, Much marked of the melancholy Jaques, Stood on th' extremest verge of the swift brook, Augmenting it with tears Your brother- no, no brother; yet the son- Yet not the son; I will not call him son Of him I was about to call his father- Hath heard your praises; and this night he means To burn the lodging where you use to lie, And you within it O good old man, how well in thee appears The constant service of the antique world, When service sweat for duty, not for meed! Thou art not for the fashion of these times, Where none will sweat but for promotion, And having that do choke their service up Even with the having; it is not so with thee Go with me; if you like upon report The soil, the profit, and this kind of life, I will your very faithful feeder be, And buy it with your gold right suddenly O Rosalind! these trees shall be my books, And in their barks my thoughts I'll character, That every eye which in this forest looks Shall see thy virtue witness'd every where And they are often tarr'd over with the surgery of our sheep; and would you have us kiss tar? The courtier's hands are perfum'd with civet Therefore heaven Nature charg'd That one body should be fill'd With all graces wide-enlarg'd Come, shepherd, let us make an honourable retreat; though not with bag and baggage, yet with scrip and scrippage Ay, but the feet were lame, and could not bear themselves without the verse, and therefore stood lamely in the verse O Lord, Lord! it is a hard matter for friends to meet; but mountains may be remov'd with earthquakes, and so encounter It is as easy to count atomies as to resolve the propositions of a lover; but take a taste of my finding him, and relish it with good observance I'll tell you who Time ambles withal, who Time trots withal, who Time gallops withal, and who he stands still withal I have heard him read many lectures against it; and I thank God I am not a woman, to be touch'd with so many giddy offences as he hath generally tax'd their whole sex withal If it be so, as fast as she answers thee with frowning looks, I'll sauce her with bitter words I'll write it straight; The matter's in my head and in my heart; I will be bitter with him and passing short Ay, of a snail; for though he comes slowly, he carries his house on his head- a better jointure, I think, than you make a woman; besides, he brings his destiny with him Marry, that should you, if I were your mistress; or I should think my honesty ranker than my wit Make the doors upon a woman's wit, and it will out at the casement; shut that, and 'twill out at the key-hole; stop that, 'twill fly with the smoke out at the chimney Nay, you might keep that check for it, till you met your wife's wit going to your neighbour's bed Neither call the giddiness of it in question, the poverty of her, the small acquaintance, my sudden wooing, nor her sudden consenting; but say with me, I love Aliena; say with her that she loves me; consent with both that we may enjoy each other I have, since I was three year old, convers'd with a magician, most profound in his art and yet not damnable He uses his folly like a stalking-horse, and under the presentation of that he shoots his wit Good Duke, receive thy daughter; Hymen from heaven brought her, Yea, brought her hither, That thou mightst join her hand with his, Whose heart within his bosom is Duke Frederick, hearing how that every day Men of great worth resorted to this forest, Address'd a mighty power; which were on foot, In his own conduct, purposely to take His brother here, and put him to the sword; And to the skirts of this wild wood he came, Where, meeting with an old religious man, After some question with him, was converted Both from his enterprise and from the world; His crown bequeathing to his banish'd brother, And all their lands restor'd to them again That were with him exil'd Play, music; and you brides and bridegrooms all, With measure heap'd in joy, to th' measures fall Within this hour it will be dinner-time; Till that, I'll view the manners of the town, Peruse the traders, gaze upon the buildings, And then return and sleep within mine inn; For with long travel I am stiff and weary A trusty villain, sir, that very oft, When I am dull with care and melancholy, Lightens my humour with his merry jests Methinks your maw, like mine, should be your clock, And strike you home without a messenger Enter DROMIO OF SYRACUSE How now, sir, is your merry humour alter'd? As you love strokes, so jest with me again I did not see you since you sent me hence, Home to the Centaur, with the gold you gave me An you use these blows long, I must get a sconce for my head, and insconce it too; or else I shall seek my wit in my shoulders Because it is a blessing that he bestows on beasts, and what he hath scanted men in hair he hath given them in wit In Ephesus I am but two hours old, As strange unto your town as to your talk, Who, every word by all my wit being scann'd, Wants wit in all one word to understand How ill agrees it with your gravity To counterfeit thus grossly with your slave, Abetting him to thwart me in my mood! Be it my wrong you are from me exempt, But wrong not that wrong with a more contempt Come, I will fasten on this sleeve of thine; Thou art an elm, my husband, I a vine, Whose weakness, married to thy stronger state, Makes me with thy strength to communicate But though my cates be mean, take them in good part; Better cheer may you have, but not with better heart What need she be acquainted? What simple thief brags of his own attaint? 'Tis double wrong to truant with your bed And let her read it in thy looks at board; Shame hath a bastard fame, well managed; Ill deeds is doubled with an evil word this drudge or diviner laid claim to me; call'd me Dromio; swore I was assur'd to her; told me what privy marks I had about me, as, the mark of my shoulder, the mole in my neck, the great wart on my left arm, that I, amaz'd, ran from her as a witch I Will debate this matter at more leisure, And teach your ears to list me with more heed Some tender money to me, some invite me, Some other give me thanks for kindnesses, Some offer me commodities to buy; Even now a tailor call'd me in his shop, And show'd me silks that he had bought for me, And therewithal took measure of my body he that went, like a bass-viol, in a case of leather; the man, sir, that, when gentlemen are tired, gives them a sob, and rest them; he, sir, that takes pity on decayed men, and give them suits of durance; he that sets up his rest to do more exploits with his mace than a morris-pike Master, be wise; an if you give it her, The devil will shake her chain, and fright us with it I am wak'd with it when I sleep; rais'd with it when I sit; driven out of doors with it when I go from home; welcom'd home with it when I return; nay, I bear it on my shoulders as beggar wont her brat; and I think, when he hath lam'd me, I shall beg with it from door to door When as your husband, all in rage, to-day Came to my house, and took away my ring- The ring I saw upon his finger now- Straight after did I meet him with a chain Faith, stay here this night; they will surely do us no harm; you saw they speak us fair, give us gold; methinks they are such a gentle nation that, but for the mountain of mad flesh that claims marriage of me, could find in my heart to stay here still and turn witch I will attend my husband, be his nurse, Diet his sickness, for it is my office, And will have no attorney but myself; And therefore let me have him home with me It is a branch and parcel of mine oath, A charitable duty of my order; Therefore depart, and leave him here with me This day, great Duke, she shut the doors upon me, While she with harlots feasted in my house There did this perjur'd goldsmith swear me down That I this day of him receiv'd the chain, Which, God he knows, I saw not; for the which He did arrest me with an officer I never came within these abbey walls, Nor ever didst thou draw thy sword on me; I never saw the chain, so help me Heaven! And this is false you burden me withal By men of Epidamnum he and I And the twin Dromio, all were taken up; But by and by rude fishermen of Corinth By force took Dromio and my son from them, And me they left with those of Epidamnum Very well, and could be content to give him good report for't but that he pays himself with being proud If I must not, I need not be barren of accusations; he hath faults, with surplus, to tire in repetition What work's, my countrymen, in hand? Where go you With bats and clubs? The matter? Speak, I pray you He that depends Upon your favours swims with fins of lead, And hews down oaks with rushes Were half to half the world by th' ears, and he Upon my party, I'd revolt, to make Only my wars with him Come, lay aside your stitchery; I must have you play the idle huswife with me this afternoon the Volsces have an army forth; against whom Cominius the general is gone, with one part of our Roman power Before Corioli Enter MARCIUS, TITUS LARTIUS, with drum and colours, with CAPTAINS and soldiers Now put your shields before your hearts, and fight With hearts more proof than shields March on, my fellows; Make good this ostentation, and you shall Divide in all with us Should they not, Well might they fester 'gainst ingratitude And tent themselves with death For that I have not wash'd my nose that bled, Or foil'd some debile wretch, which without note Here's many else have done, you shout me forth In acclamations hyperbolical, As if I lov'd my little should be dieted In praises sauc'd with lies By your patience, If 'gainst yourself you be incens'd, we'll put you- Like one that means his proper harm- in manacles, Then reason safely with you Ere in our own house I do shade my head, The good patricians must be visited; From whom I have receiv'd not only greetings, But with them change of honours Know, good mother, I had rather be their servant in my way Than sway with them in theirs I have seen the dumb men throng to see him and The blind to hear him speak; matrons flung gloves, Ladies and maids their scarfs and handkerchers, Upon him as he pass'd; the nobles bended As to Jove's statue, and the commons made A shower and thunder with their caps and shouts Therefore please you, Most reverend and grave elders, to desire The present consul and last general In our well-found successes to report A little of that worthy work perform'd By Caius Marcius Coriolanus; whom We met here both to thank and to remember With honours like himself In that day's feats, When he might act the woman in the scene, He prov'd best man i' th' field, and for his meed Was brow-bound with the oak His sword, death's stamp, Where it did mark, it took; from face to foot He was a thing of blood, whose every motion Was tim'd with dying cries When by and by the din of war 'gan pierce His ready sense, then straight his doubled spirit Re-quick'ned what in flesh was fatigate, And to the battle came he; where he did Run reeking o'er the lives of men, as if 'Twere a perpetual spoil; and till we call'd Both field and city ours he never stood To ease his breast with panting Pray you go fit you to the custom, and Take to you, as your predecessors have, Your honour with your form You show too much of that For which the people stir; if you will pass 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 consul, Nor yoke with him for tribune I'll try whether my old wit be in request With those that have but little; this must be patch'd With cloth of any colour Proceed by process, Lest parties- as he is belov'd- break out, And sack great Rome with Romans he has been bred i' th' wars Since 'a could draw a sword, and is ill school'd In bolted language; meal and bran together He throws without distinction Let Thy mother rather feel thy pride than fear Thy dangerous stoutness; for I mock at death With as big heart as thou He hath been us'd Ever to conquer, and to have his worth Of contradiction; being once chaf'd, he cannot Be rein'd again to temperance; then he speaks What's in his heart, and that is there which looks With us to break his neck My mother, you wot well My hazards still have been your solace; and Believe't not lightly- though I go alone, Like to a lonely dragon, that his fen Makes fear'd and talk'd of more than seen- your son Will or exceed the common or be caught With cautelous baits and practice If I could shake off but one seven years From these old arms and legs, by the good gods, I'd with thee every foot I have heard it said the fittest time to corrupt a man's wife is when she's fall'n out with her husband Thou hast beat me out Twelve several times, and I have nightly since Dreamt of encounters 'twixt thyself and me- We have been down together in my sleep, Unbuckling helms, fisting each other's throat- And wak'd half dead with nothing Our general himself makes a mistress of him, sanctifies himself with's hand, and turns up the white o' th' eye to his discourse But when they shall see, sir, his crest up again and the man in blood, they will out of their burrows, like conies after rain, and revel an with him Cannot be! We have record that very well it can; And three examples of the like hath been Within my age Nay, pray be patient; if you refuse your aid In this so never-needed help, yet do not Upbraid's with our distress I kneel'd before him; 'Twas very faintly he said 'Rise'; dismiss'd me Thus with his speechless hand You guard like men, 'tis well; but, by your leave, I am an officer of state and come To speak with Coriolanus I have been The book of his good acts whence men have read His fame unparallel'd haply amplified; For I have ever verified my friends- Of whom he's chief- with all the size that verity Would without lapsing suffer Thou hast never in thy life Show'd thy dear mother any courtesy, When she, poor hen, fond of no second brood, Has cluck'd thee to the wars, and safely home Loaden with honour If it be possible for you to displace it with your little finger, there is some hope the ladies of Rome, especially his mother, may prevail with him Him I accuse The city ports by this hath enter'd and Intends t' appear before the people, hoping To purge himself with words Your native town you enter'd like a post, And had no welcomes home; but he returns Splitting the air with noise And patient fools, Whose children he hath slain, their base throats tear With giving him glory When he lies along, After your way his tale pronounc'd shall bury His reasons with his body Thou basest thing, avoid; hence from my sight If after this command thou fraught the court With thy unworthiness, thou diest Sir, as I told you always, her beauty and her brain go not together; she's a good sign, but I have seen small reflection of her wit You speak of him when he was less furnish'd than now he is with that which makes him both without and within I have seen him in France; we had very many there could behold the sun with as firm eyes as he Ay, and the approbation of those that weep this lamentable divorce under her colours are wonderfully to extend him, be it but to fortify her judgment, which else an easy battery might lay flat, for taking a beggar, without less quality if you make your voyage upon her, and give me directly to understand you have prevail'd, I am no further your enemy- she is not worth our debate; if she remain unseduc'd, you not making it appear otherwise, for your ill opinion and th' assault you have made to her chastity you shall answer me with your sword Therefore I shall beseech you, if you please To greet your lord with writing, do't to-night The flame o' th' taper Bows toward her and would under-peep her lids To see th' enclosed lights, now canopied Under these windows white and azure, lac'd With blue of heaven's own tinct For The contract you pretend with that base wretch, One bred of alms and foster'd with cold dishes, With scraps o' th' court- it is no contract, none And therewithal the best; or let her beauty Look through a casement to allure false hearts, And be false with them A kind of conquest Caesar made here; but made not here his brag Of 'came, and saw, and overcame.' With shame- The first that ever touch'd him- he was carried From off our coast, twice beaten; and his shipping- Poor ignorant baubles!- on our terrible seas, Like egg-shells mov'd upon their surges, crack'd As easily 'gainst our rocks; for joy whereof The fam'd Cassibelan, who was once at point- O, giglot fortune!- to master Caesar's sword, Made Lud's Town with rejoicing fires bright And Britons strut with courage The letter That I have sent her, by her own command Shall give thee opportunity.' O damn'd paper, Black as the ink that's on thee! Senseless bauble, Art thou a fedary for this act, and look'st So virgin-like without? Lo, here she comes Good news, gods! [Reads] 'Justice and your father's wrath, should he take me in his dominion, could not be so cruel to me as you, O the dearest of creatures, would even renew me with your eyes Haply this life is best, If quiet life be best; sweeter to you That have a sharper known; well corresponding With your stiff age O, boys, this story The world may read in me; my body's mark'd With Roman swords, and my report was once first with the best of note My fault being nothing- as I have told you oft- But that two villains, whose false oaths prevail'd Before my perfect honour, swore to Cymbeline I was confederate with the Romans That part thou, Pisanio, must act for me, if thy faith be not tainted with the breach of hers Come, fellow, be thou honest; Do thou thy master's bidding; when thou seest him, A little witness my obedience Ah, you precious pander! Villain, Where is thy lady? In a word, or else Thou art straightway with the fiends She said upon a time- the bitterness of it I now belch from my heart- that she held the very garment of Posthumus in more respect than my noble and natural person, together with the adornment of my qualities I would have left it on the board, so soon As I had made my meal, and parted With pray'rs for the provider I know not why I love this youth, and I have heard you say Love's reason's without reason Nobly he yokes A smiling with a sigh, as if the sigh Was that it was for not being such a smile; The smile mocking the sigh that it would fly From so divine a temple to commix With winds that sailors rail at How? a page? Or dead or sleeping on him? But dead, rather; For nature doth abhor to make his bed With the defunct, or sleep upon the dead Newness Of Cloten's death- we being not known, not muster'd Among the bands-may drive us to a render Where we have liv'd, and so extort from's that Which we have done, whose answer would be death, Drawn on with torture Gods, put the strength o' th' Leonati in me! To shame the guise o' th' world, I will begin The fashion- less without and more within The King himself Of his wings destitute, the army broken, And but the backs of Britons seen, an flying, Through a strait lane- the enemy, full-hearted, Lolling the tongue with slaught'ring, having work More plentiful than tools to do't, struck down Some mortally, some slightly touch'd, some falling Merely through fear, that the strait pass was damm'd With dead men hurt behind, and cowards living To die with length'ned shame Then, after other music, follows the two young LEONATI, brothers to POSTHUMUS, with wounds, as they died in the wars For this from stiller seats we came, Our parents and us twain, That, striking in our country's cause, Fell bravely and were slain, Our fealty and Tenantius' right With honour to maintain No more, you petty spirits of region low, Offend our hearing; hush! How dare you ghosts Accuse the Thunderer whose bolt, you know, Sky-planted, batters all rebelling coasts? Poor shadows of Elysium, hence and rest Upon your never-withering banks of flow'rs Arise my knights o' th' battle; I create you Companions to our person, and will fit you With dignities becoming your estates The day Was yours by accident; had it gone with us, We should not, when the blood was cool, have threaten'd Our prisoners with the sword The benediction of these covering heavens Fall on their heads like dew! for they are worthy To inlay heaven with stars This gentleman, whom I call Polydore, Most worthy prince, as yours, is true Guiderius; This gentleman, my Cadwal, Arviragus, Your younger princely son; he, sir, was lapp'd In a most curious mantle, wrought by th' hand Of his queen mother, which for more probation I can with ease produce [To CYMBELINE] The piece of tender air, thy virtuous daughter, Which we call 'mollis aer,' and 'mollis aer' We term it 'mulier'; which 'mulier' I divine Is this most constant wife, who even now Answering the letter of the oracle, Unknown to you, unsought, were clipp'd about With this most tender air So through Lud's Town march; And in the temple of great Jupiter Our peace we'll ratify; seal it with feasts Set on there! Never was a war did cease, Ere bloody hands were wash'd, with such a peace Thus twice before, and jump at this dead hour, With martial stalk hath he gone by our watch In the most high and palmy state of Rome, A little ere the mightiest Julius fell, The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets; As stars with trains of fire, and dews of blood, Disasters in the sun; and the moist star Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's death The memory be green, and that it us befitted To bear our hearts in grief, and our whole kingdom To be contracted in one brow of woe, Yet so far hath discretion fought with nature That we with wisest sorrow think on him Together with remembrance of ourselves Therefore our sometime sister, now our queen, Th' imperial jointress to this warlike state, Have we, as 'twere with a defeated joy, With an auspicious, and a dropping eye, With mirth in funeral, and with dirge in marriage, In equal scale weighing delight and dole, Taken to wife; nor have we herein barr'd Your better wisdoms, which have freely gone With this affair along For nature crescent does not grow alone In thews and bulk; but as this temple waxes, The inward service of the mind and soul Grows wide withal Then if he says he loves you, It fits your wisdom so far to believe it As he in his particular act and place May give his saying deed; which is no further Than the main voice of Denmark goes withal And hath given countenance to his speech, my lord, With almost all the holy vows of heaven I would not, in plain terms, from this time forth Have you so slander any moment leisure As to give words or talk with the Lord Hamlet Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's hand Of life, of crown, of queen, at once dispatch'd; Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin, Unhous'led, disappointed, unanel'd, No reckoning made, but sent to my account With all my imperfections on my head Remember thee? Yea, from the table of my memory I'll wipe away all trivial fond records, All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past That youth and observation copied there, And thy commandment all alone shall live Within the book and volume of my brain, Unmix'd with baser matter You laying these slight sullies on my son As 'twere a thing a little soil'd i' th' working, Mark you, Your party in converse, him you would sound, Having ever seen in the prenominate crimes The youth you breathe of guilty, be assur'd He closes with you in this consequence I entreat you both That, being of so young clays brought up with him, And since so neighbour'd to his youth and haviour, That you vouchsafe your rest here in our court Some little time; so by your companies To draw him on to pleasures, and to gather So much as from occasion you may glean, Whether aught to us unknown afflicts him thus That, open'd, lies within our remedy If circumstances lead me, I will find Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeed Within the centre Slanders, sir; for the satirical rogue says here that old men have grey beards; that their faces are wrinkled; their eyes purging thick amber and plum-tree gum; and that they have a plentiful lack of wit, together with most weak hams Were you not sent for? Is it your own inclining? Is it a free visitation? Come, deal justly with me 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 caviary to the general; but it was (as I receiv'd it, and others, whose judgments in such matters cried in the top of mine) an excellent play, well digested in the scenes, set down with as much modesty as cunning 'The rugged Pyrrhus, he whose sable arms, Black as his purpose, did the night resemble When he lay couched in the ominous horse, Hath now this dread and black complexion smear'd With heraldry more dismal Am I a coward? Who calls me villain? breaks my pate across? Plucks off my beard and blows it in my face? Tweaks me by th' nose? gives me the lie i' th' throat As deep as to the lungs? Who does me this, ha? 'Swounds, I should take it! for it cannot be But I am pigeon-liver'd and lack gall To make oppression bitter, or ere this I should have fatted all the region kites With this slave's offal O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown! The courtier's, scholar's, soldier's, eye, tongue, sword, Th' expectancy and rose of the fair state, The glass of fashion and the mould of form, Th' observ'd of all observers- quite, quite down! And I, of ladies most deject and wretched, That suck'd the honey of his music vows, Now see that noble and most sovereign reason, Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh; That unmatch'd form and feature of blown youth Blasted with ecstasy O God, your only jig-maker! What should a man do but be merry? For look you how cheerfully my mother looks, and my father died within 's two hours Therefore prepare you; I your commission will forthwith dispatch, And he to England shall along with you The cesse of majesty Dies not alone, but like a gulf doth draw What's near it with it Refrain to-night, And that shall lend a kind of easiness To the next abstinence; the next more easy; For use almost can change the stamp of nature, And either [master] the devil, or throw him out With wondrous potency Hamlet, this deed, for thine especial safety,- Which we do tender as we dearly grieve For that which thou hast done,- must send thee hence With fiery quickness (Sings) Larded all with sweet flowers; Which bewept to the grave did not go With true-love showers The rabble call him lord; And, as the world were now but to begin, Antiquity forgot, custom not known, The ratifiers and props of every word, They cry 'Choose we! Laertes shall be king!' Caps, hands, and tongues applaud it to the clouds, 'Laertes shall be king! Laertes king!' A noise within My will, not all the world! And for my means, I'll husband them so well They shall go far with little To his good friends thus wide I'll ope my arms And, like the kind life-rend'ring pelican, Repast them with my blood Let the King have the letters I have sent, and repair thou to me with as much speed as thou wouldst fly death I lov'd your father, and we love ourself, And that, I hope, will teach you to imagine- Enter a Messenger with letters I have seen myself, and serv'd against, the French, And they can well on horseback; but this gallant Had witchcraft in't He grew unto his seat, And to such wondrous doing brought his horse As had he been incorps'd and demi-natur'd With the brave beast Sir, this report of his Did Hamlet so envenom with his envy That he could nothing do but wish and beg Your sudden coming o'er to play with you I bought an unction of a mountebank, So mortal that, but dip a knife in it, Where it draws blood no cataplasm so rare, Collected from all simples that have virtue Under the moon, can save the thing from death This is but scratch'd withal if I drown myself wittingly, it argues an act; and an act hath three branches-it is to act, to do, and to perform; argal, she drown'd herself wittingly Why, e'en so! and now my Lady Worm's, chapless, and knock'd about the mazzard with a sexton's spade Dost thou come here to whine? To outface me with leaping in her grave? Be buried quick with her, and so will I Enter King, Queen, Laertes, Osric, and Lords, with other Attendants with foils and gauntlets This presence knows, And you must needs have heard, how I am punish'd With sore distraction Enter the King, Lord John of Lancaster, Earl of Westmoreland, [Sir Walter Blunt,] with others No more the thirsty entrance of this soil Shall daub her lips with her own children's blood My liege, this haste was hot in question And many limits of the charge set down But yesternight; when all athwart there came A post from Wales, loaden with heavy news; Whose worst was that the noble Mortimer, Leading the men of Herefordshire to fight Against the irregular and wild Glendower, Was by the rude hands of that Welshman taken, A thousand of his people butchered; Upon whose dead corpse there was such misuse, Such beastly shameless transformation, By those Welshwomen done as may not be Without much shame retold or spoken of But, my lads, my lads, to-morrow morning, by four o'clock early, at Gadshill! There are pilgrims gong to Canterbury with rich offerings, and traders riding to London with fat purses To prove that true Needs no more but one tongue for all those wounds, Those mouthed wounds, which valiantly he took When on the gentle Severn's sedgy bank, In single opposition hand to hand, He did confound the best part of an hour In changing hardiment with great Glendower Three times they breath'd, and three times did they drink, Upon agreement, of swift Severn's flood; Who then, affrighted with their bloody looks, Ran fearfully among the trembling reeds And hid his crisp head in the hollow bank, Bloodstained with these valiant cohabitants Thou dost belie him, Percy, thou dost belie him! He never did encounter with Glendower But shall it be that you, that set the crown Upon the head of this forgetful man, And for his sake wear the detested blot Of murtherous subornation- shall it be That you a world of curses undergo, Being the agents or base second means, The cords, the ladder, or the hangman rather? O, pardon me that I descend so low To show the line and the predicament Wherein you range under this subtile king! Shall it for shame be spoken in these days, Or fill up chronicles in time to come, That men of your nobility and power Did gage them both in an unjust behalf (As both of you, God pardon it! have done) To put down Richard, that sweet lovely rose, And plant this thorn, this canker, Bolingbroke? And shall it in more shame be further spoken That you are fool'd, discarded, and shook off By him for whom these shames ye underwent? No! yet time serves wherein you may redeem Your banish'd honours and restore yourselves Into the good thoughts of the world again; Revenge the jeering and disdain'd contempt Of this proud king, who studies day and night To answer all the debt he owes to you Even with the bloody payment of your deaths All studies here I solemnly defy Save how to gall and pinch this Bolingbroke; And that same sword-and-buckler Prince of Wales- But that I think his father loves him not And would be glad he met with some mischance, I would have him poisoned with a pot of ale There's a franklin in the Wild of Kent hath brought three hundred marks with him in gold I have forsworn his company hourly any time this two-and-twenty years, and yet I am bewitch'd with the rogue's company Out, you mad-headed ape! A weasel hath not such a deal of spleen As you are toss'd with I tell thee, Ned, thou hast lost much honour that thou wert not with me in this action Enter Falstaff, [Gadshill, Bardolph, and Peto; Francis follows with wine] Began to give me ground; but I followed me close, came in, foot and hand, and with a thought seven of the eleven I paid If I become not a cart as well as another man, a plague on my bringing up! I hope I shall as soon be strangled with a halter as another I warrant you that man is not alive Might so have tempted him as you have done Without the taste of danger and reproof for thy tongue Makes Welsh as sweet as ditties highly penn'd, Sung by a fair queen in a summer's bow'r, With ravishing division, to her lute So please your Majesty, I would I could Quit all offences with as clear excuse As well as I am doubtless I can purge Myself of many I am charged withal So, when he had occasion to be seen, He was but as the cuckoo is in June, Heard, not regarded- seen, but with such eyes As, sick and blunted with community, Afford no extraordinary gaze, Such as is bent on unlike majesty When it shines seldom in admiring eyes; But rather drows'd and hung their eyelids down, Slept in his face, and rend'red such aspect As cloudy men use to their adversaries, Being with his presence glutted, gorg'd, and full And in that very line, Harry, standest thou; For thou hast lost thy princely privilege With vile participation Not an eye But is aweary of thy common sight, Save mine, which hath desir'd to see thee more; Which now doth that I would not have it do- Make blind itself with foolish tenderness And God forgive them that so much have sway'd Your Majesty's good thoughts away from me! I will redeem all this on Percy's head And, in the closing of some glorious day, Be bold to tell you that I am your son, When I will wear a garment all of blood, And stain my favours in a bloody mask, Which, wash'd away, shall scour my shame with it Bardolph, am I not fall'n away vilely since this last action? Do I not bate? Do I not dwindle? Why, my skin hangs about me like an old lady's loose gown! I am withered like an old apple John I have maintained that salamander of yours with fire any time this two-and-thirty years The Earl of Westmoreland, seven thousand strong, Is marching hitherwards; with him Prince John And further, I have learn'd The King himself in person is set forth, Or hitherwards intended speedily, With strong and mighty preparation I saw young Harry with his beaver on His cushes on his thighs, gallantly arm'd, Rise from the ground like feathered Mercury, And vaulted with such ease into his seat As if an angel dropp'd down from the clouds To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus And witch the world with noble horsemanship To-morrow, good Sir Michael, is a day Wherein the fortune of ten thousand men Must bide the touch; for, sir, at Shrewsbury, As I am truly given to understand, The King with mighty and quick-raised power Meets with Lord Harry; and I fear, Sir Michael, What with the sickness of Northumberland, Whose power was in the first proportion, And what with Owen Glendower's absence thence, Who with them was a rated sinew too And comes not in, overrul'd by prophecies- I fear the power of Percy is too weak To wage an instant trial with the King By my hopes, This present enterprise set off his head, I do not think a braver gentleman, More active-valiant or more valiant-young, More daring or more bold, is now alive To grace this latter age with noble deeds Yet this before my father's Majesty- I am content that he shall take the odds Of his great name and estimation, And will to save the blood on either side, Try fortune with him in a single fight He calls us rebels, traitors, aid will scourge With haughty arms this hateful name in us Arm, arm with speed! and, fellows, soldiers, friends, Better consider what you have to do Than I, that have not well the gift of tongue, Can lift your blood up with persuasion [Enter the King, Prince of Wales, Lord John of Lancaster, Earl of Westmoreland, with Worcester and Vernon prisoners Myself and you, son Harry, will towards Wales To fight with Glendower and the Earl of March Upon my tongues continual slanders ride, The which in every language I pronounce, Stuffing the ears of men with false reports But what need I thus My well-known body to anatomize Among my household? Why is Rumour here? I run before King Harry's victory, Who, in a bloody field by Shrewsbury, Hath beaten down young Hotspur and his troops, Quenching the flame of bold rebellion Even with the rebels' blood I am sorry I should force you to believe That which I would to God I had not seen; But these mine eyes saw him in bloody state, Rend'ring faint quittance, wearied and out-breath'd, To Harry Monmouth, whose swift wrath beat down The never-daunted Percy to the earth, From whence with life he never more sprung up Hence, therefore, thou nice crutch! A scaly gauntlet now with joints of steel Must glove this hand; and hence, thou sickly coif! Thou art a guard too wanton for the head Which princes, flesh'd with conquest, aim to hit An't please your lordship, I hear his Majesty is return'd with some discomfort from Wales Rather an't please you, it is the disease of not listening, the malady of not marking, that I am troubled withal I sent for you, when there were matters against you for your life, to come speak with me Your ill angel is light; but hope he that looks upon me will take me without weighing My lord, I was born about three of the clock in the afternoon, with a white head and something a round belly But look you pray, all you that kiss my Lady Peace at home, that our armies join not in a hot day; for, by the Lord, I take but two shirts out with me, and I mean not to sweat extraordinarily Our present musters grow upon the file To five and twenty thousand men of choice; And our supplies live largely in the hope Of great Northumberland, whose bosom burns With an incensed fire of injuries Grant that our hopes- yet likely of fair birth- Should be still-born, and that we now possess'd The utmost man of expectation, I think we are so a body strong enough, Even as we are, to equal with the King So is the unfirm King In three divided; and his coffers sound With hollow poverty and emptiness Enter SIR JOHN FALSTAFF, PAGE, and BARDOLPH Yonder he comes; and that arrant malmsey-nose knave, Bardolph, with him Pay her the debt you owe her, and unpay the villainy you have done with her; the one you may do with sterling money, and the other with current repentance Never, O never, do his ghost the wrong To hold your honour more precise and nice With others than with him! Let them alone Beshrew your heart, Fair daughter, you do draw my spirits from me With new lamenting ancient oversights Away, you cut-purse rascal! you filthy bung, away! By this wine, I'll thrust my knife in your mouldy chaps, an you play the saucy cuttle with me I'll see her damn'd first; to Pluto's damn'd lake, by this hand, to th' infernal deep, with Erebus and tortures vile also Then you perceive the body of our kingdom How foul it is; what rank diseases grow, And with what danger, near the heart of it It is but as a body yet distempered; Which to his former strength may be restored With good advice and little medicine When 'a was naked, he was for all the world like a fork'd radish, with a head fantastically carved upon it with a knife If that rebellion Came like itself, in base and abject routs, Led on by bloody youth, guarded with rags, And countenanc'd by boys and beggary- I say, if damn'd commotion so appear'd In his true, native, and most proper shape, You, reverend father, and these noble lords, Had not been here to dress the ugly form Of base and bloody insurrection With your fair honours Exit WESTMORELAND And, good my lord, so please you let our trains March by us, that we may peruse the men We should have cop'd withal I promis'd you redress of these same grievances Whereof you did complain; which, by mine honour, I will perform with a most Christian care Our news shall go before us to his Majesty, Which, cousin, you shall bear to comfort him And we with sober speed will follow you It ascends me into the brain; dries me there all the foolish and dull and crudy vapours which environ it; makes it apprehensive, quick, forgetive, full of nimble, fiery, and delectable shapes; which delivered o'er to the voice, the tongue, which is the birth, becomes excellent wit I have him already temp'ring between my finger and my thumb, and shortly will I seal with him Chide him for faults, and do it reverently, When you perceive his blood inclin'd to mirth; But, being moody, give him line and scope Till that his passions, like a whale on ground, Confound themselves with working The blood weeps from my heart when I do shape, In forms imaginary, th'unguided days And rotten times that you shall look upon When I am sleeping with my ancestors The manner how this action hath been borne Here at more leisure may your Highness read, With every course in his particular O majesty! When thou dost pinch thy bearer, thou dost sit Like a rich armour worn in heat of day That scald'st with safety My lord, I found the Prince in the next room, Washing with kindly tears his gentle cheeks, With such a deep demeanour in great sorrow, That tyranny, which never quaff'd but blood, Would, by beholding him, have wash'd his knife With gentle eye-drops To thee it shall descend with better quiet, Better opinion, better confirmation; For all the soil of the achievement goes With me into the earth Thou bring'st me happiness and peace, son John; But health, alack, with youthful wings is flown From this bare wither'd trunk I have serv'd your worship truly, sir, this eight years; an I cannot once or twice in a quarter bear out a knave against an honest man, I have but a very little credit with your worship I will devise matter enough out of this Shallow to keep Prince Harry in continual laughter the wearing out of six fashions, which is four terms, or two actions; and 'a shall laugh without intervallums He seems indifferent Or rather swaying more upon our part Than cherishing th' exhibiters against us; For I have made an offer to his Majesty- Upon our spiritual convocation And in regard of causes now in hand, Which I have open'd to his Grace at large, As touching France- to give a greater sum Than ever at one time the clergy yet Did to his predecessors part withal Under this conjuration speak, my lord; For we will hear, note, and believe in heart, That what you speak is in your conscience wash'd As pure as sin with baptism We must not only arm t' invade the French, But lay down our proportions to defend Against the Scot, who will make road upon us With all advantages When all her chivalry hath been in France, And she a mourning widow of her nobles, She hath herself not only well defended But taken and impounded as a stray The King of Scots; whom she did send to France, To fill King Edward's fame with prisoner kings, And make her chronicle as rich with praise As is the ooze and bottom of the sea With sunken wreck and sumless treasuries I this infer, That many things, having full reference To one consent, may work contrariously; As many arrows loosed several ways Come to one mark, as many ways meet in one town, As many fresh streams meet in one salt sea, As many lines close in the dial's centre; So many a thousand actions, once afoot, End in one purpose, and be all well home Without defeat Divide your happy England into four; Whereof take you one quarter into France, And you withal shall make all Gallia shake Exeunt some attendants Now are we well resolv'd; and, by God's help And yours, the noble sinews of our power, France being ours, we'll bend it to our awe, Or break it all to pieces; or there we'll sit, Ruling in large and ample empery O'er France and all her almost kingly dukedoms, Or lay these bones in an unworthy urn, Tombless, with no remembrance over them Either our history shall with full mouth Speak freely of our acts, or else our grave, Like Turkish mute, shall have a tongueless mouth, Not worshipp'd with a waxen epitaph Tell him he hath made a match with such a wrangler That all the courts of France will be disturb'd With chaces Now all the youth of England are on fire, And silken dalliance in the wardrobe lies; Now thrive the armourers, and honour's thought Reigns solely in the breast of every man; They sell the pasture now to buy the horse, Following the mirror of all Christian kings With winged heels, as English Mercuries The sum is paid, the traitors are agreed, The King is set from London, and the scene Is now transported, gentles, to Southampton; There is the play-house now, there must you sit, And thence to France shall we convey you safe And bring you back, charming the narrow seas To give you gentle pass; for, if we may, We'll not offend one stomach with our play Corporal Nym, an thou wilt be friends, be friends; an thou wilt not, why then be enemies with me too those that were your father's enemies Have steep'd their galls in honey, and do serve you With hearts create of duty and of zeal Treason and murder ever kept together, As two yoke-devils sworn to either's purpose, Working so grossly in a natural cause That admiration did not whoop at them; But thou, 'gainst all proportion, didst bring in Wonder to wait on treason and on murder; And whatsoever cunning fiend it was That wrought upon thee so preposterously Hath got the voice in hell for excellence; And other devils that suggest by treasons Do botch and bungle up damnation With patches, colours, and with forms, being fetch'd From glist'ring semblances of piety; But he that temper'd thee bade thee stand up, Gave thee no instance why thou shouldst do treason, Unless to dub thee with the name of traitor Or are they spare in diet, Free from gross passion or of mirth or anger, Constant in spirit, not swerving with the blood, Garnish'd and deck'd in modest complement, Not working with the eye without the ear, And but in purged judgment trusting neither? Such and so finely bolted didst thou seem; And thus thy fall hath left a kind of blot To mark the full-fraught man and best indued With some suspicion Now I, to comfort him, bid him 'a should not think of God; I hop'd there was no need to trouble himself with any such thoughts yet Say, if my father render fair return, It is against my will; for I desire Nothing but odds with England To that end, As matching to his youth and vanity, I did present him with the Paris balls Suppose that you have seen The well-appointed King at Hampton pier Embark his royalty; and his brave fleet With silken streamers the young Phorbus fanning Follow, follow! Grapple your minds to sternage of this navy And leave your England as dead midnight still, Guarded with grandsires, babies, and old women, Either past or not arriv'd to pith and puissance; For who is he whose chin is but enrich'd With one appearing hair that will not follow These cull'd and choice-drawn cavaliers to France? Work, work your thoughts, and therein see a siege; Behold the ordnance on their carriages, With fatal mouths gaping on girded Harfleur Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more; Or close the wall up with our English dead let the brow o'erwhelm it As fearfully as doth a galled rock O'erhang and jutty his confounded base, Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean Captain Fluellen, you must come presently to the mines; the Duke of Gloucester would speak with you By faith and honour, Our madams mock at us and plainly say Our mettle is bred out, and they will give Their bodies to the lust of English youth To new-store France with bastard warriors Where is Montjoy the herald? Speed him hence; Let him greet England with our sharp defiance Bar Harry England, that sweeps through our land With pennons painted in the blood of Harfleur He is not- God be praised and blessed!- any hurt in the world, but keeps the bridge most valiantly, with excellent discipline Therefore, go speak- the Duke will hear thy voice; And let not Bardolph's vital thread be cut With edge of penny cord and vile reproach Would I were able to load him with his desert! Will it never be day? I will trot to-morrow a mile, and my way shall be paved with English faces 'Tis good for men to love their present pains Upon example; so the spirit is eased; And when the mind is quick'ned, out of doubt The organs, though defunct and dead before, Break up their drowsy grave and newly move With casted slough and fresh legerity the violet smells to him as it doth to me; the element shows to him as it doth to me; all his senses have but human conditions; his ceremonies laid by, in his nakedness he appears but a man; and though his affections are higher mounted than ours, yet, when they stoop, they stoop with the like wing Besides, there is no king, be his cause never so spotless, if it come to the arbitrement of swords, can try it out with all unspotted soldiers some peradventure have on them the guilt of premeditated and contrived murder; some, of beguiling virgins with the broken seals of perjury; some, making the wars their bulwark, that have before gored the gentle bosom of peace with pillage and robbery You pay him then! That's a perilous shot out of an elder-gun, that a poor and a private displeasure can do against a monarch! You may as well go about to turn the sun to ice with fanning in his face with a peacock's feather Your reproof is something too round; I should be angry with you, if the time were convenient What drink'st thou oft, instead of homage sweet, But poison'd flattery? O, be sick, great greatness, And bid thy ceremony give thee cure! Thinks thou the fiery fever will go out With titles blown from adulation? Will it give place to flexure and low bending? Canst thou, when thou command'st the beggar's knee, Command the health of it? No, thou proud dream, That play'st so subtly with a king's repose I am a king that find thee; and I know 'Tis not the balm, the sceptre, and the ball, The sword, the mace, the crown imperial, The intertissued robe of gold and pearl, The farced tide running fore the king, The throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp That beats upon the high shore of this world- No, not all these, thrice gorgeous ceremony, Not all these, laid in bed majestical, Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave Who, with a body fill'd and vacant mind, Gets him to rest, cramm'd with distressful bread; Never sees horrid night, the child of hell; But, like a lackey, from the rise to set Sweats in the eye of Pheebus, and all night Sleeps in Elysium; next day, after dawn, Doth rise and help Hyperion to his horse; And follows so the ever-running year With profitable labour, to his grave O, do not wish one more! Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host, That he which hath no stomach to this fight, Let him depart; his passport shall be made, And crowns for convoy put into his purse; We would not die in that man's company That fears his fellowship to die with us This story shall the good man teach his son; And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by, From this day to the ending of the world, But we in it shall be remembered- We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; For he to-day that sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile, This day shall gentle his condition; And gentlemen in England now-a-bed Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here, And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day The French are bravely in their battles set, And will with all expedience charge on us Good God! why should they mock poor fellows thus? The man that once did sell the lion's skin While the beast liv'd was kill'd with hunting him A many of our bodies shall no doubt Find native graves; upon the which, I trust, Shall witness live in brass of this day's work I blame you not; For, hearing this, I must perforce compound With mistful eyes, or they will issue too An't please your Majesty, 'tis the gage of one that I should fight withal, if he be alive I peseech you heartily, scurvy, lousy knave, at my desires, and my requests, and my petitions, to eat, look you, this leek; because, look you, you do not love it, nor your affections, and your appetites, and your digestions, does not agree with it, I would desire you to eat it My duty to you both, on equal love, Great Kings of France and England! That I have labour'd With all my wits, my pains, and strong endeavours, To bring your most imperial Majesties Unto this bar and royal interview, Your mightiness on both parts best can witness Which to reduce into our former favout You are assembled; and my speech entreats That I may know the let why gentle Peace Should not expel these inconveniences And bless us with her former qualities Yet leave our cousin Katherine here with us; She is our capital demand, compris'd Within the fore-rank of our articles A good leg will fall; a straight back will stoop; a black beard will turn white; a curl'd pate will grow bald; a fair face will wither; a full eye will wax hollow Come, I know thou lovest me; and at night, when you come into your closet, you'll question this gentlewoman about me; and I know, Kate, you will to her dispraise those parts in me that you love with your heart Now, fie upon my false French! By mine honour, in true English, I love thee, Kate; by which honour I dare not swear thou lovest me; yet my blood begins to flatter me that thou dost, notwithstanding the poor and untempering effect of my visage Prosper this realm, keep it from civil broils, Combat with adverse planets in the heavens Gloucester, why doubt'st thou of my forwardness? An army have I muster'd in my thoughts, Wherewith already France is overrun More than three hours the fight continued; Where valiant Talbot, above human thought, Enacted wonders with his sword and lance Farewell, my masters; to my task will I; Bonfires in France forthwith I am to make To keep our great Saint George's feast withal In complete glory she reveal'd herself; And whereas I was black and swart before, With those clear rays which she infus'd on me That beauty am I bless'd with which you may see He may mean more than we poor men do know; These women are shrewd tempters with their tongues The Prince's espials have informed me How the English, in the suburbs close intrench'd, Wont, through a secret grate of iron bars In yonder tower, to overpeer the city, And thence discover how with most advantage They may vex us with shot or with assault Yet liv'st thou, Salisbury? Though thy speech doth fail, One eye thou hast to look to heaven for grace; The sun with one eye vieweth all the world My lord, my lord, the French have gather'd head The Dauphin, with one Joan la Pucelle join'd, A holy prophetess new risen up, Is come with a great power to raise the siege Heavens, can you suffer hell so to prevail? My breast I'll burst with straining of my courage The virtuous lady, Countess of Auvergne, With modesty admiring thy renown, By me entreats, great lord, thou wouldst vouchsafe To visit her poor castle where she lies, That she may boast she hath beheld the man Whose glory fills the world with loud report Is it even so? Nay, then I see our wars Will turn into a peaceful comic sport, When ladies crave to be encount'red with Let him that is a true-born gentleman And stands upon the honour of his birth, If he suppose that I have pleaded truth, From off this brier pluck a white rose with me Let him that is no coward nor no flatterer, But dare maintain the party of the truth, Pluck a red rose from off this thorn with me I love no colours; and, without all colour Of base insinuating flattery, I pluck this white rose with Plantagenet Yet are these feet, whose strengthless stay is numb, Unable to support this lump of clay, Swift-winged with desire to get a grave, As witting I no other comfort have But now the arbitrator of despairs, Just Death, kind umpire of men's miseries, With sweet enlargement doth dismiss me hence This day, in argument upon a case, Some words there grew 'twixt Somerset and me; Among which terms he us'd his lavish tongue And did upbraid me with my father's death; Which obloquy set bars before my tongue, Else with the like I had requited him But now thy uncle is removing hence, As princes do their courts when they are cloy'd With long continuance in a settled place Stoop then and set your knee against my foot; And in reguerdon of that duty done I girt thee with the valiant sword of York Foul fiend of France and hag of all despite, Encompass'd with thy lustful paramours, Becomes it thee to taunt his valiant age And twit with cowardice a man half dead? Damsel, I'll have a bout with you again, Or else let Talbot perish with this shame Now will we take some order in the town, Placing therein some expert officers; And then depart to Paris to the King, For there young Henry with his nobles lie See then, thou fight'st against thy countrymen, And join'st with them will be thy slaughtermen Ourself, my Lord Protector, and the rest, After some respite will return to Calais; From thence to England, where I hope ere long To be presented by your victories With Charles, Alencon, and that traitorous rout If thou retire, the Dauphin, well appointed, Stands with the snares of war to tangle thee Lo, there thou stand'st, a breathing valiant man, Of an invincible unconquer'd spirit! This is the latest glory of thy praise That I, thy enemy, due thee withal; For ere the glass that now begins to run Finish the process of his sandy hour, These eyes that see thee now well coloured Shall see thee withered, bloody, pale, and dead Thou princely leader of our English strength, Never so needful on the earth of France, Spur to the rescue of the noble Talbot, Who now is girdled with a waist of iron And hemm'd about with grim destruction This expedition was by York and Talbot Too rashly plotted; all our general force Might with a sally of the very town Be buckled with Whither, my lord! From bought and sold Lord Talbot, Who, ring'd about with bold adversity, Cries out for noble York and Somerset To beat assailing death from his weak legions; And whiles the honourable captain there Drops bloody sweat from his war-wearied limbs And, in advantage ling'ring, looks for rescue, You, his false hopes, the trust of England's honour, Keep off aloof with worthless emulation Come, go; I will dispatch the horsemen straight; Within six hours they will be at his aid And leave my followers here to fight and die? My age was never tainted with such shame Come, side by side together live and die; And soul with soul from France to heaven fly O, too much folly is it, well I wot, To hazard all our lives in one small boat! If I to-day die not with Frenchmen's rage, To-morrow I shall die with mickle age I think this upstart is old Talbot's ghost, He speaks with such a proud commanding spirit Beside, my lord, the sooner to effect And surer bind this knot of amity, The Earl of Armagnac, near knit to Charles, A man of great authority in France, Proffers his only daughter to your Grace In marriage, with a large and sumptuous dowry Marriage, uncle! Alas, my years are young And fitter is my study and my books Than wanton dalliance with a paramour Then call our captains and our colours forth! And, madam, at your father's castle walls We'll crave a parley to confer with him Bethink thee on her virtues that surmount, And natural graces that extinguish art; Repeat their semblance often on the seas, That, when thou com'st to kneel at Henry's feet, Thou mayst bereave him of his wits with wonder Take her away; for she hath liv'd too long, To fill the world with vicious qualities Insulting Charles! Hast thou by secret means Us'd intercession to obtain a league, And now the matter grows to compromise Stand'st thou aloof upon comparison? Either accept the title thou usurp'st, Of benefit proceeding from our king And not of any challenge of desert, Or we will plague thee with incessant wars Whether it be through force of your report, My noble Lord of Suffolk, or for that My tender youth was never yet attaint With any passion of inflaming love, I cannot tell; but this I am assur'd, I feel such sharp dissension in my breast, Such fierce alarums both of hope and fear, As I am sick with working of my thoughts Suffolk, the new-made duke that rules the roast, Hath given the duchy of Anjou and Maine Unto the poor King Reignier, whose large style Agrees not with the leanness of his purse I never read but England's kings have had Large sums of gold and dowries with their wives; And our King Henry gives away his own To match with her that brings no vantages Look to it, lords; let not his smoothing words Bewitch your hearts; be wise and circumspect Why droops my lord, like over-ripen'd corn Hanging the head at Ceres' plenteous load? Why doth the great Duke Humphrey knit his brows, As frowning at the favours of the world? Why are thine eyes fix'd to the sullen earth, Gazing on that which seems to dim thy sight? What see'st thou there? King Henry's diadem, Enchas'd with all the honours of the world? If so, gaze on, and grovel on thy face Until thy head be circled with the same What dream'd my lord? Tell me, and I'll requite it With sweet rehearsal of my morning's dream Here, Hume, take this reward; make merry, man, With thy confederates in this weighty cause Who is there? [Enter servant] Take this fellow in, and send for his master with a pursuivant presently Thy sale of offices and towns in France, If they were known, as the suspect is great, Would make thee quickly hop without thy head Let Somerset be Regent o'er the French, Because in York this breeds suspicion; And let these have a day appointed them For single combat in convenient place, For he hath witness of his servant's malice Who's within there, ho? Enter a serving-man Invite my Lords of Salisbury and Warwick To sup with me to-morrow night Thy heaven is on earth; thine eyes and thoughts Beat on a crown, the treasure of thy heart; Pernicious Protector, dangerous peer, That smooth'st it so with King and commonweal Stand by, my masters; bring him near the King; His Highness' pleasure is to talk with him Alas, good master, my wife desir'd some damsons And made me climb, With danger of my life Then, father Salisbury, kneel we together, And in this private plot be we the first That shall salute our rightful sovereign With honour of his birthright to the crown But I am not your king Till I be crown'd, and that my sword be stain'd With heart-blood of the house of Lancaster; And that's not suddenly to be perform'd, But with advice and silent secrecy You, madam, for you are more nobly born, Despoiled of your honour in your life, Shall, after three days' open penance done, Live in your country here in banishment With Sir John Stanley in the Isle of Man An't please your Grace, here my commission stays; And Sir John Stanley is appointed now To take her with him to the Isle of Man I know their complot is to have my life; And if my death might make this island happy And prove the period of their tyranny, I would expend it with all willingness That Somerset be sent as Regent thither; 'Tis meet that lucky ruler be employ'd, Witness the fortune he hath had in France It may be judg'd I made the Duke away; So shall my name with slander's tongue be wounded, And princes' courts be fill'd with my reproach Fain would I go to chafe his paly lips With twenty thousand kisses and to drain Upon his face an ocean of salt tears To tell my love unto his dumb deaf trunk; And with my fingers feel his hand un-feeling; But all in vain are these mean obsequies; And to survey his dead and earthy image, What were it but to make my sorrow greater? Bed put forth with the body I wear no knife to slaughter sleeping men; But here's a vengeful sword, rusted with ease, That shall be scoured in his rancorous heart That slanders me with murder's crimson badge Thou shalt be waking while I shed thy blood, If from this presence thou dar'st go with me What stronger breastplate than a heart untainted? Thrice is he arm'd that hath his quarrel just; And he but naked, though lock'd up in steel, Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted Dread lord, the commons send you word by me Unless Lord Suffolk straight be done to death, Or banished fair England's territories, They will by violence tear him from your palace And torture him with grievous ling'ring death Therefore bring forth the soldiers of our prize; For, whilst our pinnace anchors in the Downs, Here shall they make their ransom on the sand, Or with their blood stain this discoloured shore By devilish policy art thou grown great, And, like ambitious Sylla, overgorg'd With gobbets of thy mother's bleeding heart And as for these, whose ransom we have set, It is our pleasure one of them depart; Therefore come you with us, and let him go Fly, fly, fly! Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother are hard by, with the King's forces And good reason; for thereby is England main'd and fain to go with a staff, but that my puissance holds it up I'll send some holy bishop to entreat; For God forbid so many simple souls Should perish by the sword! And I myself, Rather than bloody war shall cut them short, Will parley with Jack Cade their general No, my lord, nor likely to be slain; for they have won the bridge, killing all those that withstand them [Aside] Mass, 'twill be sore law then; for he was thrust in the mouth with a spear, and 'tis not whole yet [Aside] Nay, John, it will be stinking law; for his breath stinks with eating toasted cheese Here's the lord of the soil come to seize me for a stray, for entering his fee-simple without leave I am far better born than is the King, More like a king, more kingly in my thoughts; But I must make fair weather yet awhile, Till Henry be more weak and I more strong.- Buckingham, I prithee, pardon me That I have given no answer all this while; My mind was troubled with deep melancholy How now! Is Somerset at liberty? Then, York, unloose thy long-imprisoned thoughts And let thy tongue be equal with thy heart That gold must round engirt these brows of mine, Whose smile and frown, like to Achilles' spear, Is able with the change to kill and cure Why, Warwick, hath thy knee forgot to bow? Old Salisbury, shame to thy silver hair, Thou mad misleader of thy brainsick son! What, wilt thou on thy death-bed play the ruffian And seek for sorrow with thy spectacles? O, where is faith? O, where is loyalty? If it be banish'd from the frosty head, Where shall it find a harbour in the earth? Wilt thou go dig a grave to find out war And shame thine honourable age with blood? Why art thou old, and want'st experience? Or wherefore dost abuse it, if thou hast it? For shame! In duty bend thy knee to me, That bows unto the grave with mickle age Now, by my father's badge, old Nevil's crest, The rampant bear chain'd to the ragged staff, This day I'll wear aloft my burgonet, As on a mountain-top the cedar shows, That keeps his leaves in spite of any storm, Even to affright thee with the view thereof Fie! charity, for shame! Speak not in spite, For you shall sup with Jesu Christ to-night Clifford of Cumberland, 'tis Warwick calls; And if thou dost not hide thee from the bear, Now, when the angry trumpet sounds alarum And dead men's cries do fill the empty air, Clifford, I say, come forth and fight with me Proud northern lord, Clifford of Cumberland, WARWICK is hoarse with calling thee to arms Lord Stafford's father, Duke of Buckingham, Is either slain or wounded dangerous; I cleft his beaver with a downright blow Do right unto this princely Duke of York; Or I will fill the house with armed men, And over the chair of state, where now he sits, Write up his title with usurping blood To entail him and his heirs unto the crown, What is it but to make thy sepulchre And creep into it far before thy time? Warwick is Chancellor and the lord of Calais; Stern Falconbridge commands the narrow seas; The Duke is made Protector of the realm; And yet shalt thou be safe? Such safety finds The trembling lamb environed with wolves You, Edward, shall unto my Lord Cobham, With whom the Kentishmen will willingly rise; In them I trust, for they are soldiers, Witty, courteous, liberal, full of spirit Plantagenet, I come, Plantagenet; And this thy son's blood cleaving to my blade Shall rust upon my weapon, till thy blood, Congeal'd with this, do make me wipe off both And when the hardiest warriors did retire, Richard cried 'Charge, and give no foot of ground!' And cried 'A crown, or else a glorious tomb! A sceptre, or an earthly sepulchre!' With this we charg'd again; but out alas! We bodg'd again; as I have seen a swan With bootless labour swim against the tide And spend her strength with over-matching waves My ashes, as the phoenix, may bring forth A bird that will revenge upon you all; And in that hope I throw mine eyes to heaven, Scorning whate'er you can afflict me with I will not bandy with thee word for word, But buckler with thee blows, twice two for one So triumph thieves upon their conquer'd booty; So true men yield, with robbers so o'er-match'd Brave warriors, Clifford and Northumberland, Come, make him stand upon this molehill here That raught at mountains with outstretched arms, Yet parted but the shadow with his hand I stain'd this napkin with the blood That valiant Clifford with his rapier's point Made issue from the bosom of the boy; And if thine eyes can water for his death, I give thee this to dry thy cheeks withal But how is it that great Plantagenet Is crown'd so soon and broke his solemn oath? As I bethink me, you should not be King Till our King Henry had shook hands with death This cloth thou dipp'dst in blood of my sweet boy, And I with tears do wash the blood away I cannot weep, for all my body's moisture Scarce serves to quench my furnace-burning heart; Nor can my tongue unload my heart's great burden, For self-same wind that I should speak withal Is kindling coals that fires all my breast, And burns me up with flames that tears would quench His name that valiant duke hath left with thee; His dukedom and his chair with me is left Some six miles off the Duke is with the soldiers; And for your brother, he was lately sent From your kind aunt, Duchess of Burgundy, With aid of soldiers to this needful war Unreasonable creatures feed their young; And though man's face be fearful to their eyes, Yet, in protection of their tender ones, Who hath not seen them- even with those wings Which sometime they have us'd with fearful flight- Make war with him that climb'd unto their nest, Offering their own lives in their young's defence For shame, my liege, make them your precedent! Were it not pity that this goodly boy Should lose his birthright by his father's fault, And long hereafter say unto his child 'What my great-grandfather and grandsire got My careless father fondly gave away'? Ah, what a shame were this! Look on the boy; And let his manly face, which promiseth Successful fortune, steel thy melting heart To hold thine own and leave thine own with him But when we saw our sunshine made thy spring, And that thy summer bred us no increase, We set the axe to thy usurping root; And though the edge hath something hit ourselves, Yet know thou, since we have begun to strike, We'll never leave till we have hewn thee down, Or bath'd thy growing with our heated bloods Suppose this arm is for the Duke of York, And this for Rutland; both bound to revenge, Wert thou environ'd with a brazen wall Weep, wretched man; I'll aid thee tear for tear; And let our hearts and eyes, like civil war, Be blind with tears and break o'ercharg'd with grief Thou that so stoutly hath resisted me, Give me thy gold, if thou hast any gold; For I have bought it with an hundred blows From Scotland am I stol'n, even of pure love, To greet mine own land with my wishful sight No, Harry, Harry, 'tis no land of thine; Thy place is fill'd, thy sceptre wrung from thee, Thy balm wash'd off wherewith thou wast anointed If this news be true, Poor queen and son, your labour is but lost; For Warwick is a subtle orator, And Lewis a prince soon won with moving words A cold premeditation for my purpose! Why, then I do but dream on sovereignty; Like one that stands upon a promontory And spies a far-off shore where he would tread, Wishing his foot were equal with his eye; And chides the sea that sunders him from thence, Saying he'll lade it dry to have his way- So do I wish the crown, being so far off; And so I chide the means that keeps me from it; And so I say I'll cut the causes off, Flattering me with impossibilities Well, say there is no kingdom then for Richard; What other pleasure can the world afford? I'll make my heaven in a lady's lap, And deck my body in gay ornaments, And witch sweet ladies with my words and looks And am I, then, a man to be belov'd? O monstrous fault to harbour such a thought! Then, since this earth affords no joy to me But to command, to check, to o'erbear such As are of better person than myself, I'll make my heaven to dream upon the crown, And whiles I live t' account this world but hell, Until my misshap'd trunk that bear this head Be round impaled with a glorious crown And yet I know not how to get the crown, For many lives stand between me and home; And I- like one lost in a thorny wood That rents the thorns and is rent with the thorns, Seeking a way and straying from the way Not knowing how to find the open air, But toiling desperately to find it out- Torment myself to catch the English crown; And from that torment I will free myself Or hew my way out with a bloody axe Queen Margaret, Prince Edward, and Oxford, Vouchsafe at our request to stand aside While I use further conference with Warwick Now, Warwick, tell me, even upon thy conscience, Is Edward your true king? for I were loath To link with him that were not lawful chosen And now forthwith shall articles be drawn Touching the jointure that your king must make, Which with her dowry shall be counterpois'd Then, England's messenger, return in post And tell false Edward, thy supposed king, That Lewis of France is sending over masquers To revel it with him and his new bride That if our Queen and this young Prince agree, I'll join mine eldest daughter and my joy To him forthwith in holy wedlock bands stay we now? These soldiers shall be levied; And thou, Lord Bourbon, our High Admiral, Shall waft them over with our royal fleet Let us be back'd with God, and with the seas Which He hath giv'n for fence impregnable, And with their helps only defend ourselves But as this title honours me and mine, So your dislikes, to whom I would be pleasing, Doth cloud my joys with danger and with sorrow He, more incens'd against your Majesty Than all the rest, discharg'd me with these words Now therefore let us hence, and lose no hour Till we meet Warwick with his foreign pow'r Ay, for if Edward repossess the crown, 'Tis like that Richmond with the rest shall down The gates made fast! Brother, I like not this; For many men that stumble at the threshold Are well foretold that danger lurks within In Warwickshire I have true-hearted friends, Not mutinous in peace, yet bold in war; Those will I muster up, and thou, son Clarence, Shalt stir up in Suffolk, Norfolk, and in Kent, The knights and gentlemen to come with thee Sail how thou canst, have wind and tide thy friend, This hand, fast wound about thy coal-black hair, Shall, whiles thy head is warm and new cut off, Write in the dust this sentence with thy blood Thou and thy brother both shall buy this treason Even with the dearest blood your bodies bear Thus far our fortune keeps an upward course, And we are grac'd with wreaths of victory But in the midst of this bright-shining day I spy a black, suspicious, threat'ning cloud That will encounter with our glorious sun Ere he attain his easeful western bed- I mean, my lords, those powers that the Queen Hath rais'd in Gallia have arriv'd our coast And, as we hear, march on to fight with us This speak I, lords, to let you understand, If case some one of you would fly from us, That there's no hop'd-for mercy with the brothers More than with ruthless waves, with sands, and rocks Indeed, 'tis true that Henry told me of; For I have often heard my mother say I came into the world with my legs forward And that I love the tree from whence thou sprang'st, Witness the loving kiss I give the fruit Enter CARDINAL WOLSEY, the purse borne before him, certain of the guard, and two SECRETARIES with papers Enter KING HENRY, leaning on the CARDINAL'S shoulder, the NOBLES, and SIR THOMAS LOVELL, with others Please you, sir, I know but of a single part in aught Pertains to th' state, and front but in that file Where others tell steps with me Sir, a Chartreux friar, His confessor, who fed him every minute With words of sovereignty The reformation of our travell'd gallants, That fill the court with quarrels, talk, and tailors Because they speak no English, thus they pray'd To tell your Grace, that, having heard by fame Of this so noble and so fair assembly This night to meet here, they could do no less, Out of the great respect they bear to beauty, But leave their flocks and, under your fair conduct, Crave leave to view these ladies and entreat An hour of revels with 'em Yet I am richer than my base accusers That never knew what truth meant; I now seal it; And with that blood will make 'em one day groan fort When they were ready to set out for London, a man of my Lord Cardinal's, by commission, and main power, took 'em from me, with this reason Beauty and honour in her are so mingled That they have caught the King; and who knows yet But from this lady may proceed a gem To lighten all this isle?-I'll to the King And say I spoke with you Enter two VERGERS, with short silver wands; next them, two SCRIBES, in the habit of doctors; after them, the ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY alone; after him, the BISHOPS OF LINCOLN, ELY, ROCHESTER, and SAINT ASAPH; next them, with some small distance, follows a GENTLEMAN bearing the purse, with the great seal, and a Cardinal's hat; then two PRIESTS, bearing each silver cross; then a GENTLEMAN USHER bareheaded, accompanied with a SERGEANT-AT-ARMS bearing a silver mace; then two GENTLEMEN bearing two great silver pillars; after them, side by side, the two CARDINALS, WOLSEY and CAMPEIUS; two NOBLEMEN with the sword and mace When was the hour I ever contradicted your desire Or made it not mine too? Or which of your friends Have I not strove to love, although I knew He were mine enemy? What friend of mine That had to him deriv'd your anger did Continue in my liking? Nay, gave notice He was from thence discharg'd? Sir, call to mind That I have been your wife in this obedience Upward of twenty years, and have been blest With many children by you Y'are meek and humble-mouth'd; You sign your place and calling, in full seeming, With meekness and humility; but your heart Is cramm'd with arrogancy, spleen, and pride This respite shook The bosom of my conscience, enter'd me, Yea, with a splitting power, and made to tremble The region of my breast, which forc'd such way That many maz'd considerings did throng And press'd in with this caution If your business Seek me out, and that way I am wife in, Out with it boldly; truth loves open dealing if you omit The offer of this time, I cannot promise But that you shall sustain moe new disgraces With these you bear already It's heaven's will; Some spirit put this paper in the packet To bless your eye withal Plague of your policy! You sent me deputy for Ireland; Far from his succour, from the King, from all That might have mercy on the fault thou gav'st him; Whilst your great goodness, out of holy pity, Absolv'd him with an axe The Duke by law Found his deserts; how innocent I was From any private malice in his end, His noble jury and foul cause can witness My lords Can ye endure to hear this arrogance? And from this fellow? If we live thus tamely, To be thus jaded by a piece of scarlet, Farewell nobility! Let his Grace go forward And dare us with his cap like larks Many more there are, Which, since they are of you, and odious, I will not taint my mouth with O my lord, Must I then leave you? Must I needs forgo So good, so noble, and so true a master? Bear witness, all that have not hearts of iron, With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord The old DUCHESS OF NORFOLK, in a coronal of gold wrought with flowers, bearing the QUEEN'S train Among the crowds i' th' Abbey, where a finger Could not be wedg'd in more; I am stifled With the mere rankness of their joy So may he rest; his faults lie gently on him! Yet thus far, Griffith, give me leave to speak him, And yet with charity O, my Lord, The times and titles now are alter'd strangely With me since first you knew me The Queen's in labour, They say in great extremity, and fear'd She'll with the labour end As for Cromwell, Beside that of the Jewel House, is made Master O' th' Rolls, and the King's secretary; further, sir, Stands in the gap and trade of moe preferments, With which the time will load him Now, by my holidame, What manner of man are you? My lord, I look'd You would have given me your petition that I should have ta'en some pains to bring together Yourself and your accusers, and to have heard you Without indurance further I had thought They had parted so much honesty among 'em- At least good manners-as not thus to suffer A man of his place, and so near our favour, To dance attendance on their lordships' pleasures, And at the door too, like a post with packets Belong to th' gallows, and be hang'd, ye rogue! Is this a place to roar in? Fetch me a dozen crab-tree staves, and strong ones; these are but switches to 'em I am not Samson, nor Sir Guy, nor Colbrand, To mow 'em down before me; but if I spar'd any That had a head to hit, either young or old, He or she, cuckold or cuckold-maker, Let me ne'er hope to see a chine again; And that I would not for a cow, God save her! [ Within She shall be, to the happiness of England, An aged princess; many days shall see her, And yet no day without a deed to crown it The proud control of fierce and bloody war, To enforce these rights so forcibly withheld What now, my son! Have I not ever said How that ambitious Constance would not cease Till she had kindled France and all the world Upon the right and party of her son? This might have been prevented and made whole With very easy arguments of love, Which now the manage of two kingdoms must With fearful bloody issue arbitrate Out on thee, rude man! Thou dost shame thy mother, And wound her honour with this diffidence By how much unexpected, by so much We must awake endeavour for defence, For courage mounteth with occasion Peace be to England, if that war return From France to England, there to live in peace! England we love, and for that England's sake With burden of our armour here we sweat But on the sight of us your lawful king, Who painfully with much expedient march Have brought a countercheck before your gates, To save unscratch'd your city's threat'ned cheeks- Behold, the French amaz'd vouchsafe a parle; And now, instead of bullets wrapp'd in fire, To make a shaking fever in your walls, They shoot but calm words folded up in smoke, To make a faithless error in your cars; Which trust accordingly, kind citizens, And let us in-your King, whose labour'd spirits, Forwearied in this action of swift speed, Craves harbourage within your city walls Their armours that march'd hence so silver-bright Hither return all gilt with Frenchmen's blood And by this hand I swear, That sways the earth this climate overlooks, Before we will lay down our just-borne arms, We'll put thee down, 'gainst whom these arms we bear, Or add a royal number to the dead, Gracing the scroll that tells of this war's loss With slaughter coupled to the name of kings That done, dissever your united strengths And part your mingled colours once again, Turn face to face and bloody point to point; Then in a moment Fortune shall cull forth Out of one side her happy minion, To whom in favour she shall give the day, And kiss him with a glorious victory If that the Dauphin there, thy princely son, Can in this book of beauty read 'I love,' Her dowry shall weigh equal with a queen; For Anjou, and fair Touraine, Maine, Poictiers, And all that we upon this side the sea- Except this city now by us besieg'd- Find liable to our crown and dignity, Shall gild her bridal bed, and make her rich In titles, honours, and promotions, As she in beauty, education, blood, Holds hand with any princess of the world You have beguil'd me with a counterfeit Resembling majesty, which, being touch'd and tried, Proves valueless; you are forsworn, forsworn; You came in arms to spill mine enemies' blood, But now in arms you strengthen it with yours Tell him this tale, and from the mouth of England Add thus much more, that no Italian priest Shall tithe or toll in our dominions; But as we under heaven are supreme head, So, under Him that great supremacy, Where we do reign we will alone uphold, Without th' assistance of a mortal hand What since thou swor'st is sworn against thyself And may not be performed by thyself, For that which thou hast sworn to do amiss Is not amiss when it is truly done; And being not done, where doing tends to ill, The truth is then most done not doing it; The better act of purposes mistook Is to mistake again; though indirect, Yet indirection thereby grows direct, And falsehood cures, as fire cools fire Within the scorched veins of one new-burn'd [To ARTHUR] For England, cousin, go; Hubert shall be your man, attend on you With all true duty I will not keep this form upon my head, [Tearing her hair] When there is such disorder in my wit No, no; when Fortune means to men most good, She looks upon them with a threat'ning eye Are you sick, Hubert? You look pale to-day; In sooth, I would you were a little sick, That I might sit all night and watch with you O, save me, Hubert, save me! My eyes are out Even with the fierce looks of these bloody men An if you do, you will but make it blush And glow with shame of your proceedings, Hubert Here once again we sit, once again crown'd, And look'd upon, I hope, with cheerful eyes you were crown'd before, And that high royalty was ne'er pluck'd off, The faiths of men ne'er stained with revolt; Fresh expectation troubled not the land With any long'd-for change or better state Some reasons of this double coronation I have possess'd you with, and think them strong; And more, more strong, when lesser is my fear, I shall indue you with Enter a MESSENGER A fearful eye thou hast; where is that blood That I have seen inhabit in those cheeks? So foul a sky clears not without a storm Enter the BASTARD and PETER OF POMFRET Now! What says the world To your proceedings? Do not seek to stuff My head with more ill news, for it is fun But as I travell'd hither through the land, I find the people strangely fantasied; Possess'd with rumours, full of idle dreams Old men and beldams in the streets Do prophesy upon it dangerously; Young Arthur's death is common in their mouths; And when they talk of him, they shake their heads, And whisper one another in the ear; And he that speaks doth gripe the hearer's wrist, Whilst he that hears makes fearful action With wrinkled brows, with nods, with rolling eyes This hand of mine Is yet a maiden and an innocent hand, Not painted with the crimson spots of blood Away with me, all you whose souls abhor Th' uncleanly savours of a slaughter-house; For I am stifled with this smell of sin What, shall they seek the lion in his den, And fright him there, and make him tremble there? O, let it not be said! Forage, and run To meet displeasure farther from the doors And grapple with him ere he come so nigh My heart hath melted at a lady's tears, Being an ordinary inundation; But this effusion of such manly drops, This show'r, blown up by tempest of the soul, Startles mine eyes and makes me more amaz'd Than had I seen the vaulty top of heaven Figur'd quite o'er with burning meteors Look where the holy legate comes apace, To give us warrant from the hand of heaven And on our actions set the name of right With holy breath Your breath first kindled the dead coal of wars Between this chastis'd kingdom and myself And brought in matter that should feed this fire; And now 'tis far too huge to be blown out With that same weak wind which enkindled it Have I not hideous death within my view, Retaining but a quantity of life, Which bleeds away even as a form of wax Resolveth from his figure 'gainst the fire? What in the world should make me now deceive, Since I must lose the use of all deceit? Why should I then be false, since it is true That I must die here, and live hence by truth? I say again, if Lewis do will the day, He is forsworn if e'er those eyes of yours Behold another day break in the east; But even this night, whose black contagious breath Already smokes about the burning crest Of the old, feeble, and day-wearied sun, Even this ill night, your breathing shall expire, Paying the fine of rated treachery Even with a treacherous fine of all your lives In lieu whereof, I pray you, bear me hence From forth the noise and rumour of the field, Where I may think the remnant of my thoughts In peace, and part this body and my soul With contemplation and devout desires Poison'd-ill-fare! Dead, forsook, cast off; And none of you will bid the winter come To thrust his icy fingers in my maw, Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their course Through my burn'd bosom, nor entreat the north To make his bleak winds kiss my parched lips And comfort me with cold The Cardinal Pandulph is within at rest, Who half an hour since came from the Dauphin, And brings from him such offers of our peace As we with honour and respect may take, With purpose presently to leave this war I have a kind soul that would give you thanks, And knows not how to do it but with tears The torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it With lusty sinews, throwing it aside And stemming it with hearts of controversy Three or four wenches where I stood cried, "Alas, good soul!" and forgave him with all their hearts This rudeness is a sauce to his good wit, Which gives men stomach to digest his words With better appetite Besides- I ha' not since put up my sword- Against the Capitol I met a lion, Who glaz'd upon me and went surly by Without annoying me Crown him that, And then, I grant, we put a sting in him That at his will he may do danger with Good gentlemen, look fresh and merrily; Let not our looks put on our purposes, But bear it as our Roman actors do, With untired spirits and formal constancy have ungently, Brutus, Stole from my bed; and yesternight at supper You suddenly arose and walk'd about, Musing and sighing, with your arms across; And when I ask'd you what the matter was, You stared upon me with ungentle looks I urged you further; then you scratch'd your head, And too impatiently stamp'd with your foot So I did, Fearing to strengthen that impatience Which seem'd too much enkindled, and withal Hoping it was but an effect of humor, Which sometime hath his hour with every man [Exit Portia.] Lucius, who's that knocks? Re-enter Lucius with Ligarius Plucking the entrails of an offering forth, They could not find a heart within the beast If thou read this, O Caesar, thou mayest live; If not, the Fates with traitors do contrive Brutus shall lead, and we will grace his heels With the most boldest and best hearts of Rome If Brutus will vouchsafe that Antony May safely come to him and be resolved How Caesar hath deserved to lie in death, Mark Antony shall not love Caesar dead So well as Brutus living, but will follow The fortunes and affairs of noble Brutus Thorough the hazards of this untrod state With all true faith If I myself, there is no hour so fit As Caesar's death's hour, nor no instrument Of half that worth as those your swords, made rich With the most noble blood of all this world For your part, To you our swords have leaden points, Mark Antony; Our arms in strength of malice, and our hearts Of brothers' temper, do receive you in With all kind love, good thoughts, and reverence That I did love thee, Caesar, O, 'tis true! If then thy spirit look upon us now, Shall it not grieve thee dearer than thy death To see thy Antony making his peace, Shaking the bloody fingers of thy foes, Most noble! In the presence of thy corse? Had I as many eyes as thou hast wounds, Weeping as fast as they stream forth thy blood, It would become me better than to close In terms of friendship with thine enemies Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood! Over thy wounds now do I prophesy (Which like dumb mouths do ope their ruby lips To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue) A curse shall light upon the limbs of men; Domestic fury and fierce civil strife Shall cumber all the parts of Italy; Blood and destruction shall be so in use, And dreadful objects so familiar, That mothers shall but smile when they behold Their infants quarter'd with the hands of war; All pity choked with custom of fell deeds, And Caesar's spirit ranging for revenge, With Ate by his side come hot from hell, Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice Cry "Havoc!" and let slip the dogs of war, That this foul deed shall smell above the earth With carrion men, groaning for burial The evil that men do lives after them, The good is oft interred with their bones; So let it be with Caesar Kind souls, what weep you when you but behold Our Caesar's vesture wounded? Look you here, Here is himself, marr'd, as you see, with traitors Come, away, away! We'll burn his body in the holy place And with the brands fire the traitors' houses They meant his night in Sard is to be quarter'd; The greater part, the horse in general, Are come with Cassius The deep of night is crept upon our talk, And nature must obey necessity, Which we will niggard with a little rest Now, most noble Brutus, The gods today stand friendly that we may, Lovers in peace, lead on our days to age! But, since the affairs of men rest still incertain, Let's reason with the worst that may befall [Pindarus stabs him.] Caesar, thou art revenged, Even with the sword that kill'd thee Tell me, my daughters (Since now we will divest us both of rule, Interest of territory, cares of state), Which of you shall we say doth love us most? That we our largest bounty may extend Where nature doth with merit challenge Why have my sisters husbands, if they say They love you all? Haply, when I shall wed, That lord whose hand must take my plight shall carry Half my love with him, half my care and duty I do invest you jointly in my power, Preeminence, and all the large effects That troop with majesty Ourself, by monthly course, With reservation of an hundred knights, By you to be sustain'd, shall our abode Make with you by due turns I will seek him, sir, presently; convey the business as I shall find means, and acquaint you withal Let me, if not by birth, have lands by wit; All with me's meet that I can fashion fit Idle old man, That still would manage those authorities That he hath given away! Now, by my life, Old fools are babes again, and must be us'd With checks as flatteries, when they are seen abus'd Why, to put's head in; not to give it away to his daughters, and leave his horns without a case I have been with your father, and given him notice that the Duke of Cornwall and Regan his Duchess will be here with him this night Have you not spoken 'gainst the Duke of Cornwall? He's coming hither; now, i' th' night, i' th' haste, And Regan with him [Stabs his arm.] I have seen drunkards Do more than this in sport.- Father, father!- Stop, stop! No help? Enter Gloucester, and Servants with torches Thou whoreson zed! thou unnecessary letter! My lord, if you'll give me leave, I will tread this unbolted villain into mortar and daub the walls of a jakes with him Your purpos'd low correction Is such as basest and contemn'dest wretches For pilf'rings and most common trespasses Are punish'd with My lord, when at their home I did commend your Highness' letters to them, Ere I was risen from the place that show'd My duty kneeling, came there a reeking post, Stew'd in his haste, half breathless, panting forth From Goneril his mistress salutations; Deliver'd letters, spite of intermission, Which presently they read; on whose contents, They summon'd up their meiny, straight took horse, Commanded me to follow and attend The leisure of their answer, gave me cold looks, And meeting here the other messenger, Whose welcome I perceiv'd had poison'd mine- Being the very fellow which of late Display'd so saucily against your Highness- Having more man than wit about me, drew Vengeance! plague! death! confusion! Fiery? What quality? Why, Gloucester, Gloucester, I'ld speak with the Duke of Cornwall and his wife The King would speak with Cornwall; the dear father Would with his daughter speak, commands her service We are not ourselves When nature, being oppress'd, commands the mind To suffer with the body Made you my guardians, my depositaries; But kept a reservation to be followed With such a number Bring me but to the very brim of it, And I'll repair the misery thou dost bear With something rich about me I'll put't in proof, And when I have stol'n upon these sons-in-law, Then kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill! Enter a Gentleman [with Attendants] I am doubtful that you have been conjunct And bosom'd with her, as far as we call hers She and the Duke her husband! Enter, with Drum and Colours, Albany, Goneril, Soldiers Enter, with Drum and Colours, the Powers of France over the stage, Cordelia with her Father in her hand, and exeunt [Exit Gentleman.] This judgement of the heavens, that makes us tremble Touches us not with pity Fat paunches have lean pates; and dainty bits Make rich the ribs, but bankrupt quite the wits The grosser manner of these world's delights He throws upon the gross world's baser slaves; To love, to wealth, to pomp, I pine and die, With all these living in philosophy While it doth study to have what it would, It doth forget to do the thing it should; And when it hath the thing it hunteth most, 'Tis won as towns with fire- so won, so lost Yet was Samson so tempted, and he had an excellent strength; yet was Solomon so seduced, and he had a very good wit Beauty is bought by judgment of the eye, Not utt'red by base sale of chapmen's tongues; I am less proud to hear you tell my worth Than you much willing to be counted wise In spending your wit in the praise of mine Tell him the daughter of the King of France, On serious business, craving quick dispatch, Importunes personal conference with his Grace The only soil of his fair virtue's gloss, If virtue's gloss will stain with any soil, Is a sharp wit match'd with too blunt a will, Whose edge hath power to cut, whose will still wills It should none spare that come within his power The young Dumain, a well-accomplish'd youth, Of all that virtue love for virtue loved; Most power to do most harm, least knowing ill, For he hath wit to make an ill shape good, And shape to win grace though he had no wit Berowne they call him; but a merrier man, Within the limit of becoming mirth, I never spent an hour's talk withal If then the King your father will restore But that one half which is unsatisfied, We will give up our right in Aquitaine, And hold fair friendship with his Majesty His face's own margent did quote such amazes That all eyes saw his eyes enchanted with gazes I do dine to-day at the father's of a certain pupil of mine; where, if, before repast, it shall please you to gratify the table with a grace, I will, on my privilege I have with the parents of the foresaid child or pupil, undertake your ben venuto; where I will prove those verses to be very unlearned, neither savouring of poetry, wit, nor invention Shot, by heaven! Proceed, sweet Cupid; thou hast thump'd him with thy bird-bolt under the left pap I that am honest, I that hold it sin To break the vow I am engaged in; I am betrayed by keeping company With men like you, men of inconstancy Now, for not looking on a woman's face, You have in that forsworn the use of eyes, And study too, the causer of your vow; For where is author in the world Teaches such beauty as a woman's eye? Learning is but an adjunct to ourself, And where we are our learning likewise is; Then when ourselves we see in ladies' eyes, With ourselves For valour, is not Love a Hercules, Still climbing trees in the Hesperides? Subtle as Sphinx; as sweet and musical As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair In the afternoon We will with some strange pastime solace them, Such as the shortness of the time can shape; For revels, dances, masks, and merry hours, Forerun fair Love, strewing her way with flowers Your reasons at dinner have been sharp and sententious; pleasant without scurrility, witty without affection, audacious without impudency, learned without opinion, and strange without heresy Now, by the salt wave of the Mediterraneum, a sweet touch, a quick venue of wit- snip, snap, quick and home None are so surely caught, when they are catch'd, As wit turn'd fool; folly, in wisdom hatch'd, Hath wisdom's warrant and the help of school, And wit's own grace to grace a learned fool Folly in fools bears not so strong a note As fool'ry in the wise when wit doth dote, Since all the power thereof it doth apply To prove, by wit, worth in simplicity Their several counsels they unbosom shall To loves mistook, and so be mock'd withal Upon the next occasion that we meet With visages display'd to talk and greet There's no such sport as sport by sport o'erthrown, To make theirs ours, and ours none but our own; So shall we stay, mocking intended game, And they well mock'd depart away with shame They say that they have measur'd many a mile To tread a measure with you on this grass We number nothing that we spend for you; Our duty is so rich, so infinite, That we may do it still without accompt He is wit's pedlar, and retails his wares At wakes, and wassails, meetings, markets, fairs; And we that sell by gross, the Lord doth know, Have not the grace to grace it with such show Now by my maiden honour, yet as pure As the unsullied lily, I protest, A world of torments though I should endure, I would not yield to be your house's guest; So much I hate a breaking cause to be Of heavenly oaths, vowed with integrity We four indeed confronted were with four In Russian habit; here they stayed an hour And talk'd apace; and in that hour, my lord, They did not bless us with one happy word Oft have I heard of you, my Lord Berowne, Before I saw you; and the world's large tongue Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks, Full of comparisons and wounding flouts, Which you on all estates will execute That lie within the mercy of your wit A jest's prosperity lies in the ear Of him that hears it, never in the tongue Of him that makes it; then, if sickly ears, Deaf'd with the clamours of their own dear groans, Will hear your idle scorns, continue then, And I will have you and that fault withal Good sir, why do you start, and seem to fear Things that do sound so fair? I' the name of truth, Are ye fantastical or that indeed Which outwardly ye show? My noble partner You greet with present grace and great prediction Of noble having and of royal hope, That he seems rapt withal Say from whence You owe this strange intelligence, or why Upon this blasted heath you stop our way With such prophetic greeting? Speak, I charge you New honors come upon him, Like our strange garments, cleave not to their mould But with the aid of use Thou'ldst have, great Glamis, That which cries, "Thus thou must do, if thou have it; And that which rather thou dost fear to do Than wishest should be undone." Hie thee hither, That I may pour my spirits in thine ear, And chastise with the valor of my tongue All that impedes thee from the golden round, Which fate and metaphysical aid doth seem To have thee crown'd withal Merciful powers, Restrain in me the cursed thoughts that nature Gives way to in repose! Enter Macbeth and a Servant with a torch Thou sure and firm-set earth, Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear Thy very stones prate of my whereabout, And take the present horror from the time, Which now suits with it One cried, "God bless us!" and "Amen" the other, As they had seen me with these hangman's hands Here lay Duncan, His silver skin laced with his golden blood, And his gash'd stabs look'd like a breach in nature For ruin's wasteful entrance; there, the murtherers, Steep'd in the colors of their trade, their daggers Unmannerly breech'd with gore And Duncan's horses-a thing most strange and certain- Beauteous and swift, the minions of their race, Turn'd wild in nature, broke their stalls, flung out, Contending 'gainst obedience, as they would make War with mankind We hear our bloody cousins are bestow'd In England and in Ireland, not confessing Their cruel parricide, filling their hearers With strange invention If't be so, For Banquo's issue have I filed my mind, For them the gracious Duncan have I murther'd, Put rancors in the vessel of my peace Only for them, and mine eternal jewel Given to the common enemy of man, To make them kings -the seed of Banquo kings! Rather than so, come, Fate, into the list, And champion me to the utterance! Who's there? Re-enter Attendant, with two Murtherers Well then, now Have you consider'd of my speeches? Know That it was he in the times past which held you So under fortune, which you thought had been Our innocent self? This I made good to you In our last conference, pass'd in probation with you How now, my lord? Why do you keep alone, Of sorriest fancies your companions making, Using those thoughts which should indeed have died With them they think on? Things without all remedy Should be without regard The feast is sold That is not often vouch'd, while 'tis amaking, 'Tis given with welcome To feed were best at home; From thence the sauce to meat is ceremony; Meeting were bare without it Avaunt, and quit my sight! Let the earth hide thee! Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold; Thou hast no speculation in those eyes Which thou dost glare with Can such things be, And overcome us like a summer's cloud, Without our special wonder? You make me strange Even to the disposition that I owe When now I think you can behold such sights And keep the natural ruby of your cheeks When mine is blanch'd with fear If you will take a homely man's advice, Be not found here; hence, with your little ones It is myself I mean, in whom I know All the particulars of vice so grafted That, when they shall be open'd, black Macbeth Will seem as pure as snow, and the poor state Esteem him as a lamb, being compared With my confineless harms Some say he's mad; others, that lesser hate him, Do call it valiant fury; but, for certain, He cannot buckle his distemper'd cause Within the belt of rule Bring me no more reports; let them fly all! Till Birnam Wood remove to Dunsinane I cannot taint with fear "Fear not, Macbeth; no man that's born of woman Shall e'er have power upon thee." Then fly, false Thanes, And mingle with the English epicures! The mind I sway by and the heart I bear Shall never sag with doubt nor shake with fear Ring the alarum bell! Blow, wind! Come, wrack! At least we'll die with harness on our back I will not yield, To kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feet, And to be baited with the rabble's curse They say he parted well and paid his score, And so God be with him! Here comes newer comfort We shall not spend a large expense of time Before we reckon with your several loves And make us even with you My haste may not admit it; Nor need you, on mine honour, have to do With any scruple Thou conclud'st like the sanctimonious pirate that went to sea with the Ten Commandments, but scrap'd one out of the table Thus, what with the war, what with the sweat, what with the gallows, and what with poverty, I am custom-shrunk But it chances The stealth of our most mutual entertainment, With character too gross, is writ on Juliet My holy sir, none better knows than you How I have ever lov'd the life removed, And held in idle price to haunt assemblies Where youth, and cost, a witless bravery keeps I would not- though 'tis my familiar sin With maids to seem the lapwing, and to jest, Tongue far from heart- play with all virgins so I hold you as a thing enskied and sainted, By your renouncement an immortal spirit, And to be talk'd with in sincerity, As with a saint Upon his place, And with full line of his authority, Governs Lord Angelo, a man whose blood Is very snow-broth, one who never feels The wanton stings and motions of the sense, But doth rebate and blunt his natural edge With profits of the mind, study and fast Faith, sir, few of any wit in such matters; as they are chosen, they are glad to choose me for them; I do it for some piece of money, and go through with all From thee; even from thy virtue! What's this, what's this? Is this her fault or mine? The tempter or the tempted, who sins most? Ha! Not she; nor doth she tempt; but it is I That, lying by the violet in the sun, Do as the carrion does, not as the flow'r, Corrupt with virtuous season Left her in her tears, and dried not one of them with his comfort; swallowed his vows whole, pretending in her discoveries of dishonour; in few, bestow'd her on her own lamentation, which she yet wears for his sake; and he, a marble to her tears, is washed with them, but relents not [Knocking within] How now, what noise! That spirit's possess'd with haste That wounds th' unsisting postern with these strokes If anything fall to you upon this more than thanks and good fortune, by the saint whom I profess, I will plead against it with my life Friar, not I; I have been drinking hard all night, and I will have more time to prepare me, or they shall beat out my brains with billets He should have liv'd, Save that his riotous youth, with dangerous sense, Might in the times to come have ta'en revenge, By so receiving a dishonour'd life With ransom of such shame And let the subject see, to make them know That outward courtesies would fain proclaim Favours that keep within O Prince! I conjure thee, as thou believ'st There is another comfort than this world, That thou neglect me not with that opinion That I am touch'd with madness In brief- to set the needless process by, How I persuaded, how I pray'd, and kneel'd, How he refell'd me, and how I replied, For this was of much length- the vile conclusion I now begin with grief and shame to utter She that accuses him of fornication, In self-same manner doth accuse my husband; And charges him, my lord, with such a time When I'll depose I had him in mine arms, With all th' effect of love We do condemn thee to the very block Where Claudio stoop'd to death, and with like haste Your mind is tossing on the ocean; There where your argosies, with portly sail- Like signiors and rich burghers on the flood, Or as it were the pageants of the sea- Do overpeer the petty traffickers, That curtsy to them, do them reverence, As they fly by them with their woven wings Believe me, sir, had I such venture forth, The better part of my affections would Be with my hopes abroad You look not well, Signior Antonio; You have too much respect upon the world; They lose it that do buy it with much care With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come; And let my liver rather heat with wine Than my heart cool with mortifying groans You would be, sweet madam, if your miseries were in the same abundance as your good fortunes are; and yet, for aught I see, they are as sick that surfeit with too much as they that starve with nothing Ay, that's a colt indeed, for he doth nothing but talk of his horse; and he makes it a great appropriation to his own good parts that he can shoe him himself; I am much afear'd my lady his mother play'd false with a smith Therefore, for fear of the worst, I pray thee set a deep glass of Rhenish wine on the contrary casket; for if the devil be within and that temptation without, I know he will choose it Yes, to smell pork, to eat of the habitation which your prophet, the Nazarite, conjured the devil into! I will buy with you, sell with you, talk with you, walk with you, and so following; but I will not eat with you, drink with you, nor pray with you [Aside] How like a fawning publican he looks! I hate him for he is a Christian; But more for that in low simplicity He lends out money gratis, and brings down The rate of usance here with us in Venice Then meet me forthwith at the notary's; Give him direction for this merry bond, And I will go and purse the ducats straight, See to my house, left in the fearful guard Of an unthrifty knave, and presently I'll be with you So is Alcides beaten by his page; And so may I, blind Fortune leading me, Miss that which one unworthier may attain, And die with grieving Certainly the Jew is the very devil incarnation; and, in my conscience, my conscience is but a kind of hard conscience to offer to counsel me to stay with the Jew And then to scape drowning thrice, and to be in peril of my life with the edge of a feather-bed-here are simple scapes Marry, sir, to bid my old master, the Jew, to sup to-night with my new master, the Christian who riseth from a feast With that keen appetite that he sits down? Where is the horse that doth untread again His tedious measures with the unbated fire That he did pace them first? All things that are Are with more spirit chased than enjoyed I will make fast the doors, and gild myself With some moe ducats, and be with you straight 'Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves.' This third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt The one of them contains my picture, Prince; If you choose that, then I am yours withal What says the silver with her virgin hue? 'Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves.' As much as he deserves! Pause there, Morocco, And weigh thy value with an even hand The villain Jew with outcries rais'd the Duke, Who went with him to search Bassanio's ship He came too late, the ship was under sail; But there the Duke was given to understand That in a gondola were seen together Lorenzo and his amorous Jessica; Besides, Antonio certified the Duke They were not with Bassanio in his ship I pray thee, let us go and find him out, And quicken his embraced heaviness With some delight or other I will not choose what many men desire, Because I will not jump with common spirits And rank me with the barbarous multitudes O, these deliberate fools! When they do choose, They have the wisdom by their wit to lose No more, I pray thee; I am half afeard Thou wilt say anon he is some kin to thee, Thou spend'st such high-day wit in praising him So may the outward shows be least themselves; The world is still deceiv'd with ornament For my part, my lord, My purpose was not to have seen you here; But meeting with Salerio by the way, He did entreat me, past all saying nay, To come with him along When I was with him, I have heard him swear To Tubal and to Chus, his countrymen, That he would rather have Antonio's flesh Than twenty times the value of the sum That he did owe him; and I know, my lord, If law, authority, and power, deny not, It will go hard with poor Antonio First go with me to church and call me wife, And then away to Venice to your friend; For never shall you lie by Portia's side With an unquiet soul I do wonder, Thou naughty gaoler, that thou art so fond To come abroad with him at his request They shall, Nerissa; but in such a habit That they shall think we are accomplished With that we lack I'll hold thee any wager, When we are both accoutred like young men, I'll prove the prettier fellow of the two, And wear my dagger with the braver grace, And speak between the change of man and boy With a reed voice; and turn two mincing steps Into a manly stride; and speak of frays Like a fine bragging youth; and tell quaint lies, How honourable ladies sought my love, Which I denying, they fell sick and died- I could not do withal I beseech you let his lack of years be no impediment to let him lack a reverend estimation, for I never knew so young a body with so old a head Repent but you that you shall lose your friend, And he repents not that he pays your debt; For if the Jew do cut but deep enough, I'll pay it instantly with all my heart Most worthy gentleman, I and my friend Have by your wisdom been this day acquitted Of grievous penalties; in lieu whereof Three thousand ducats, due unto the Jew, We freely cope your courteous pains withal Enter MUSICIANS Come, ho, and wake Diana with a hymn; With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear You were to blame, I must be plain with you, To part so slightly with your wife's first gift, A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger And so riveted with faith unto your flesh If you had known the virtue of the ring, Or half her worthiness that gave the ring, Or your own honour to contain the ring, You would not then have parted with the ring And pardon me, my gentle Gratiano, For that same scrubbed boy, the doctor's clerk, In lieu of this, last night did lie with me But were the day come, I should wish it dark, Till I were couching with the doctor's clerk It is petter that friends is the sword and end it; and there is also another device in my prain, which peradventure prings goot discretions with it The tevil and his tam! What phrase is this, 'He hears with ear'? Why, it is affectations No, I know Anne's mind for that; never a woman in Windsor knows more of Anne's mind than I do; nor can do more than I do with her, I thank heaven I had myself twenty angels given me this morning; but I defy all angels, in any such sort, as they say, but in the way of honesty; and, I warrant you, they could never get her so much as sip on a cup with the proudest of them all; and yet there has been earls, nay, which is more, pensioners; but, I warrant you, all is one with her Alas, the sweet woman leads an ill life with him! He's a very jealousy man; she leads a very frampold life with him, good heart Sir, I hear you are a scholar-I will be brief with you -and you have been a man long known to me, though I had never so good means as desire to make myself acquainted with you Master Brook, thou shalt know I will predominate over the peasant, and thou shalt lie with his wife Page is an ass, a secure ass; he will trust his wife; he will not be jealous; I will rather trust a Fleming with my butter, Parson Hugh the Welshman with my cheese, an Irishman with my aqua-vitae bottle, or a thief to walk my ambling gelding, than my wife with herself He has no more knowledge in Hibocrates and Galen, and he is a knave besides-a cowardly knave as you would desires to be acquainted withal He pieces out his wife's inclination; he gives her folly motion and advantage; and now she's going to my wife, and Falstaff's boy with her [Within] Mistress Ford, Mistress Ford! here's Mistress Page at the door, sweating and blowing and looking wildly, and would needs speak with you presently Pray heaven it be not so that you have such a man here; but 'tis most certain your husband's coming, with half Windsor at his heels, to search for such a one Come to me at your convenient leisure, and you shall know how I speed; and the conclusion shall be crowned with your enjoying her If I find not what I seek, show 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 walnut for his wife's leman.' Satisfy me once more; once more search with me Henceforth, do what thou wilt; I rather will suspect the sun with cold Than thee with wantonness Marry, this is our device- That Falstaff at that oak shall meet with us, Disguis'd, like Heme, with huge horns on his head And till he tell the truth, Let the supposed fairies pinch him sound, And burn him with their tapers FORD I'll to the Doctor; he hath my good will, And none but he, to marry with Nan Page There's an old woman, a fat woman, gone up into his chamber; I'll be so bold as stay, sir, till she come down; I come to speak with her, indeed Ay, sir, like who more bold? SIMPLE., I thank your worship; I shall make my master glad with these tidings If it should come to the car of the court how I have been transformed, and how my transformation hath been wash'd and cudgell'd, they would melt me out of my fat, drop by drop, and liquor fishermen's boots with me; I warrant they would whip me with their fine wits till I were as crestfall'n as a dried pear What tell'st thou me of black and blue? I was beaten myself into all the colours of the rainbow; and was like to be apprehended for the witch of Brainford But that my admirable dexterity of wit, my counterfeiting the action of an old woman, deliver'd me, the knave constable had set me i' th' stocks, i' th' common stocks, for a witch I have a letter from her Of such contents as you will wonder at; The mirth whereof so larded with my matter That neither, singly, can be manifested Without the show of both Her father means she shall be all in white; And in that habit, when Slender sees his time To take her by the hand and bid her go, She shall go with him; her mother hath intended The better to denote her to the doctor- For they must all be mask'd and vizarded- That quaint in green she shall be loose enrob'd, With ribands pendent, flaring 'bout her head; And when the doctor spies his vantage ripe, To pinch her by the hand, and, on that token, The maid hath given consent to go with him I knew of your purpose; turn'd my daughter into green; and, indeed, she is now with the Doctor at the dean'ry, and there married Sir John, To Master Brook you yet shall hold your word; For he, to-night, shall lie with Mistress Ford Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour Draws on apace; four happy days bring in Another moon; but, O, methinks, how slow This old moon wanes! She lingers my desires, Like to a step-dame or a dowager, Long withering out a young man's revenue Exit PHILOSTRATE Hippolyta, I woo'd thee with my sword, And won thy love doing thee injuries; But I will wed thee in another key, With pomp, with triumph, and with revelling My good Lysander! I swear to thee by Cupid's strongest bow, By his best arrow, with the golden head, By the simplicity of Venus' doves, By that which knitteth souls and prospers loves, And by that fire which burn'd the Carthage Queen, When the false Troyan under sail was seen, By all the vows that ever men have broke, In number more than ever women spoke, In that same place thou hast appointed me, To-morrow truly will I meet with thee But, masters, here are your parts; and I am to entreat you, request you, and desire you, to con them by to-morrow night; and meet me in the palace wood, a mile without the town, by moonlight; there will we rehearse; for if we meet in the city, we shall be dogg'd with company, and our devices known She never had so sweet a changeling; And jealous Oberon would have the child Knight of his train, to trace the forests wild; But she perforce withholds the loved boy, Crowns him with flowers, and makes him all her joy I jest to Oberon, and make him smile When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile, Neighing in likeness of a filly foal; And sometime lurk I in a gossip's bowl In very likeness of a roasted crab, And, when she drinks, against her lips I bob, And on her withered dewlap pour the ale These are the forgeries of jealousy; And never, since the middle summer's spring, Met we on hill, in dale, forest, or mead, By paved fountain, or by rushy brook, Or in the beached margent of the sea, To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind, But with thy brawls thou hast disturb'd our sport His mother was a vot'ress of my order; And, in the spiced Indian air, by night, Full often hath she gossip'd by my side; And sat with me on Neptune's yellow sands, Marking th' embarked traders on the flood; When we have laugh'd to see the sails conceive, And grow big-bellied with the wanton wind; Which she, with pretty and with swimming gait Following- her womb then rich with my young squire- Would imitate, and sail upon the land, To fetch me trifles, and return again, As from a voyage, rich with merchandise But she, being mortal, of that boy did die; And for her sake do I rear up her boy; And for her sake I will not part with him Having once this juice, I'll watch Titania when she is asleep, And drop the liquor of it in her eyes; The next thing then she waking looks upon, Be it on lion, bear, or wolf, or bull, On meddling monkey, or on busy ape, She shall pursue it with the soul of love You do impeach your modesty too much To leave the city and commit yourself Into the hands of one that loves you not; To trust the opportunity of night, And the ill counsel of a desert place, With the rich worth of your virginity Lysander! What, remov'd? Lysander! lord! What, out of hearing gone? No sound, no word? Alack, where are you? Speak, an if you hear; Speak, of all loves! I swoon almost with fear [Sings] The ousel cock, so black of hue, With orange-tawny bill, The throstle with his note so true, The wren with little quill I am a spirit of no common rate; The summer still doth tend upon my state; And I do love thee; therefore, go with me Would he have stolen away From sleeping Hermia? I'll believe as soon This whole earth may be bor'd, and that the moon May through the centre creep and so displease Her brother's noontide with th' Antipodes About the wood go swifter than the wind, And Helena of Athens look thou find; All fancy-sick she is and pale of cheer, With sighs of love that costs the fresh blood dear To vow, and swear, and superpraise my parts, When I am sure you hate me with your hearts So we grew together, Like to a double cherry, seeming parted, But yet an union in partition, Two lovely berries moulded on one stern; So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart; Two of the first, like coats in heraldry, Due but to one, and crowned with one crest Now I perceive that she hath made compare Between our statures; she hath urg'd her height; And with her personage, her tall personage, Her height, forsooth, she hath prevail'd with him Hie therefore, Robin, overcast the night; The starry welkin cover thou anon With drooping fog as black as Acheron, And lead these testy rivals so astray As one come not within another's way Like to Lysander sometime frame thy tongue, Then stir Demetrius up with bitter wrong; And sometime rail thou like Demetrius; And from each other look thou lead them thus, Till o'er their brows death-counterfeiting sleep With leaden legs and batty wings doth creep Then crush this herb into Lysander's eye; Whose liquor hath this virtuous property, To take from thence all error with his might And make his eyeballs roll with wonted sight When they next wake, all this derision Shall seem a dream and fruitless vision; And back to Athens shall the lovers wend With league whose date till death shall never end Damned spirits all That in cross-ways and floods have burial, Already to their wormy beds are gone, For fear lest day should look their shames upon; They wilfully themselves exil'd from light, And must for aye consort with black-brow'd night Thou coward, art thou bragging to the stars, Telling the bushes that thou look'st for wars, And wilt not come? Come, recreant, come, thou child; I'll whip thee with a rod Never so weary, never so in woe, Bedabbled with the dew, and torn with briers, I can no further crawl, no further go; My legs can keep no pace with my desires Do not fret yourself too much in the action, mounsieur; and, good mounsieur, have a care the honey-bag break not; I would be loath to have you overflown with a honey-bag, signior Seest thou this sweet sight? Her dotage now I do begin to pity; For, meeting her of late behind the wood, Seeking sweet favours for this hateful fool, I did upbraid her and fall out with her Come, my lord; and in our flight, Tell me how it came this night That I sleeping here was found With these mortals on the ground My lord, I shall reply amazedly, Half sleep, half waking; but as yet, I swear, I cannot truly say how I came here, But, as I think- for truly would I speak, And now I do bethink me, so it is- I came with Hermia hither 'The thrice three Muses mourning for the death Of Learning, late deceas'd in beggary.' That is some satire, keen and critical, Not sorting with a nuptial ceremony Hard-handed men that work in Athens here, Which never labour'd in their minds till now; And now have toil'd their unbreathed memories With this same play against your nuptial This grisly beast, which Lion hight by name, The trusty Thisby, coming first by night, Did scare away, or rather did affright; And as she fled, her mantle she did fall; Which Lion vile with bloody mouth did stain O grim-look'd night! O night with hue so black! O night, which ever art when day is not! O night, O night, alack, alack, alack, I fear my Thisby's promise is forgot! And thou, O wall, O sweet, O lovely wall, That stand'st between her father's ground and mine; Thou wall, O wall, O sweet and lovely wall, Show me thy chink, to blink through with mine eyne O wall, full often hast thou beard my moans, For parting my fair Pyramus and me! My cherry lips have often kiss'd thy stones, Thy stones with lime and hair knit up in thee O wherefore, Nature, didst thou lions frame? Since lion vile hath here deflower'd my dear; Which is- no, no- which was the fairest dame That liv'd, that lov'd, that lik'd, that look'd with cheer O Sisters Three, Come, come to me, With hands as pale as milk; Lay them in gore, Since you have shore With shears his thread of silk Now the hungry lion roars, And the wolf behowls the moon; Whilst the heavy ploughman snores, All with weary task fordone Enter Leonato (Governor of Messina), Hero (his Daughter), and Beatrice (his Niece), with a Messenger I have already delivered him letters, and there appears much joy in him; even so much that joy could not show itself modest enough without a badge of bitterness Faith, niece, you tax Signior Benedick too much; but he'll be meet with you, I doubt it not A dear happiness to women! They would else have been troubled with a pernicious suitor How sweetly you do minister to love, That know love's grief by his complexion! But lest my liking might too sudden seem, I would have salv'd it with a longer treatise the Prince discovered to Claudio that he loved my niece your daughter and meant to acknowledge it this night in a dance, and if he found her accordant, he meant to take the present time by the top and instantly break with you of it There is no measure in the occasion that breeds; therefore the sadness is without limit Yea, but you must not make the full show of this till you may do it without controlment Come, come, do you think I do not know you by your excellent wit? Can virtue hide itself? Go to, mum you are he Sure my brother is amorous on Hero and hath withdrawn her father to break with him about it O, she misus'd me past the endurance of a block! An oak but with one green leaf on it would have answered her; my very visor began to assume life and scold with her She told me, not thinking I had been myself, that I was the Prince's jester, that I was duller than a great thaw; huddling jest upon jest with such impossible conveyance upon me that I stood like a man at a mark, with a whole army shooting at me Will your Grace command me any service to the world's end? I will go on the slightest errand now to the Antipodes that you can devise to send me on; I will fetch you a toothpicker now from the furthest inch of Asia; bring you the length of Prester John's foot; fetch you a hair off the great Cham's beard; do you any embassage to the Pygmies--rather than hold three words' conference with this harpy She is never sad but when she sleeps, and not ever sad then; for I have heard my daughter say she hath often dreamt of unhappiness and wak'd herself with laughing I will in the interim undertake one of Hercules' labours, which is, to bring Signior Benedick and the Lady Beatrice into a mountain of affection th' one with th' other I will teach you how to humour your cousin, that she shall fall in love with Benedick; and I, [to Leonato and Claudio] with your two helps, will so practise on Benedick that, in despite of his quick wit and his queasy stomach, he shall fall in love with Beatrice I am sick in displeasure to him, and whatsoever comes athwart his affection ranges evenly with mine By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what to think of it, but that she loves him with an enraged affection As Hector, I assure you; and in the managing of quarrels you may say he is wise, for either he avoids them with great discretion, or undertakes them with a most Christianlike fear They say the lady is fair--'tis a truth, I can bear them witness; and virtuous --'tis so, I cannot reprove it; and wise, but for loving me--by my troth, it is no addition to her wit, nor no great argument of her folly, for I will be horribly in love with her If fair-fac'd, She would swear the gentleman should be her sister; If black, why, Nature, drawing of an antic, Made a foul blot; if tall, a lance ill-headed; If low, an agate very vilely cut; If speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds; If silent, why, a block moved with none If it prove so, then loving goes by haps; Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps If you meet a thief, you may suspect him, by virtue of your office, to be no true man; and for such kind of men, the less you meddle or make with them, why, the more your honesty Two of them did, the Prince and Claudio; but the devil my master knew she was Margaret; and partly by his oaths, which first possess'd them, partly by the dark night, which did deceive them, but chiefly by my villany, which did confirm any slander that Don John had made, away went Claudio enrag'd; swore he would meet her, as he was appointed, next morning at the temple, and there, before the whole congregation, shame her with what he saw o'ernight and send her home again without a husband He swore he would never marry; and yet now in despite of his heart he eats his meat without grudging; and how you may be converted I know not, but methinks you look with your eyes as other women do Fie, fie! they are not to be nam'd, my lord-- Not to be spoke of; There is not chastity, enough in language Without offence to utter them Confirm'd, confirm'd! O, that is stronger made Which was before barr'd up with ribs of iron! Would the two princes lie? and Claudio lie, Who lov'd her so that, speaking of her foulness, Wash'd it with tears? Hence from her! let her die Signior Leonato, let the friar advise you; And though you know my inwardness and love Is very much unto the Prince and Claudio, Yet, by mine honour, I will deal in this As secretly and justly as your soul Should with your body Enter the Constables [Dogberry and Verges] and the Sexton, in gowns, [and the Watch, with Conrade and] Borachio No, thou villain, thou art full of piety, as shall be prov'd upon thee by good witness Give not me counsel, Nor let no comforter delight mine ear But such a one whose wrongs do suit with mine But there is no such man; for, brother, men Can counsel and speak comfort to that grief Which they themselves not feel; but, tasting it, Their counsel turns to passion, which before Would give preceptial medicine to rage, Fetter strong madness in a silken thread, Charm ache with air and agony with words [to the Watch] Bring you these fellows on.--We'll talk with Margaret, How her acquaintance grew with this lewd fellow I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried thy eyes; and moreover, I will go with thee to thy uncle's The wolves have prey'd, and look, the gentle day, Before the wheels of Phoebus, round about Dapples the drowsy east with spots of grey Signior Leonato, truth it is, good signior, Your niece regards me with an eye of favour Get thee a wife, get thee a wife! There is no staff more reverent than one tipp'd with horn My lord, your brother John is ta'en in flight, And brought with armed men back to Messina Call up her father, Rouse him, make after him, poison his delight, Proclaim him in the streets, incense her kinsmen, And, though he in a fertile climate dwell, Plague him with flies I am one, sir, that comes to tell you your daughter and the Moor are now making the beast with two backs Do not believe That, from the sense of all civility, I thus would play and trifle with your reverence That you shall surely find him, Lead to the Sagittary the raised search, And there will I be with him Enter, below, Brabantio, in his nightgown, and Servants with torches The Ottomites, reverend and gracious, Steering with due course toward the isle of Rhodes, Have there injointed them with an after fleet She is abused, stol'n from me and corrupted By spells and medicines bought of mountebanks; For nature so preposterously to err, Being not deficient, blind, or lame of sense, Sans witchcraft could not 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 And heaven defend your good souls, that you think I will your serious and great business scant For she is with me Come, Desdemona, I have but an hour Of love, of worldly matters and direction, To spend with thee Ere I would say I would drown myself for the love of a guinea hen, I would change my humanity with a baboon Let me see now- To get his place, and to plume up my will In double knavery- How, how?- Let's see- After some time, to abuse Othello's ear That he is too familiar with his wife But this same Cassio, though he speak of comfort Touching the Turkish loss, yet he looks sadly And prays the Moor be safe; for they were parted With foul and violent tempest Marry, before your ladyship I grant, She puts her tongue a little in her heart And chides with thinking Now, I do love her too, Not out of absolute lust, though peradventure I stand accountant for as great a sin, But partly led to diet my revenge, For that I do suspect the lusty Moor Hath leap'd into my seat; the thought whereof Doth like a poisonous mineral gnaw my inwards, And nothing can or shall content my soul Till I am even'd with him, wife for wife If consequence do but approve my dream, My boat sails freely, both with wind and stream Re-enter Cassio; with him Montano and Gentlemen; Servants following with wine O sweet England! [Sings.] "King Stephen was and-a worthy peer, His breeches cost him but a crown; He held them sixpence all too dear, With that he call'd the tailor lown And 'tis great pity that the noble Moor Should hazard such a place as his own second With one of an ingraft infirmity Reputation is an idle and most false imposition; oft got without merit and lost without deserving And then for her To win the Moor, were't to renounce his baptism, All seals and symbols of redeemed sin, His soul is so enfetter'd to her love, That she may make, unmake, do what she list, Even as her appetite shall play the god With his weak function For whiles this honest fool Plies Desdemona to repair his fortune, And she for him pleads strongly to the Moor, I'll pour this pestilence into his ear, That she repeals him for her body's lust; And by how much she strives to do him good, She shall undo her credit with the Moor How poor are they that have not patience! What wound did ever heal but by degrees? Thou know'st we work by wit and not by witchcraft, And wit depends on dilatory time But, masters, here's money for you; and the general so likes your music, that he desires you, for love's sake, to make no more noise with it Yet, I beseech you, If you think fit, or that it may be done, Give me advantage of some brief discourse With Desdemona alone My lord shall never rest; I'll watch him tame and talk him out of patience; His bed shall seem a school, his board a shrift; I'll intermingle everything he does With Cassio's suit Ay, sooth; so humbled That he hath left part of his grief with me To suffer with him I am glad of it, for now I shall have reason To show the love and duty that I bear you With franker spirit I know not that; but such a handkerchief- I am sure it was your wife's- did I today See Cassio wipe his beard with I marry her! What? A customer! I prithee, bear some charity to my wit; do not think it so unwholesome I cry you mercy then; I took you for that cunning whore of Venice That married with Othello How have I been behaved, that he might stick The small'st opinion on my least misuse? Re-enter Emilia with Iago O, fie upon them! Some such squire he was That turn'd your wit the seamy side without, And made you to suspect me with the Moor Every day thou daffest me with some device, Iago; and rather, as it seems to me now, keepest from me all conveniency than suppliest me with the least advantage of hope I grant indeed it hath not appeared, and your suspicion is not without wit and judgement But, Roderigo, if thou hast that in thee indeed, which I have greater reason to believe now than ever, I mean purpose, courage, and valor, this night show it; if thou the next night following enjoy not Desdemona, take me from this world with treachery and devise engines for my life Strumpet, I come! Forth of my heart those charms, thine eyes, are blotted; Thy bed lust-stain'd shall with lust's blood be spotted These may be counterfeits; let's think't unsafe To come in to the cry without more help When I have pluck'd the rose, I cannot give it vital growth again, It must needs wither; I'll smell it on the tree Therefore confess thee freely of thy sin, For to deny each article with oath Cannot remove nor choke the strong conception That I do groan withal O cursed, cursed slave! Whip me, ye devils, From the possession of this heavenly sight! Blow me about in winds! Roast me in sulphur! Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire! O Desdemon! dead, Desdemon! dead! O! O! O! Enter Lodovico, Montano, Cassio carried in a chair, and Officers with Iago, prisoner O, enforce it! Myself will straight aboard, and to the state This heavy act with heavy heart relate O, sit my husband's wrongs on Hereford's spear, That it may enter butcher Mowbray's breast! Or, if misfortune miss the first career, Be Mowbray's sins so heavy in his bosom That they may break his foaming courser's back And throw the rider headlong in the lists, A caitiff recreant to my cousin Hereford! Farewell, old Gaunt; thy sometimes brother's wife, With her companion, Grief, must end her life Yet one word more- grief boundeth where it falls, Not with the empty hollowness, but weight Never did captive with a freer heart Cast off his chains of bondage, and embrace His golden uncontroll'd enfranchisement, More than my dancing soul doth celebrate This feast of battle with mine adversary A long flourish, while the KING consults his Council Draw near, And list what with our council we have done Faith, none for me; except the north-east wind, Which then blew bitterly against our faces, Awak'd the sleeping rheum, and so by chance Did grace our hollow parting with a tear Ourself, and Bushy, Bagot here, and Green, Observ'd his courtship to the common people; How he did seem to dive into their hearts With humble and familiar courtesy; What reverence he did throw away on slaves, Wooing poor craftsmen with the craft of smiles And patient underbearing of his fortune, As 'twere to banish their affects with him Where doth the world thrust forth a vanity- So it be new, there's no respect how vile- That is not quickly buzz'd into his ears? Then all too late comes counsel to be heard Where will doth mutiny with wit's regard A lunatic lean-witted fool, Presuming on an ague's privilege, Darest with thy frozen admonition Make pale our cheek, chasing the royal blood With fury from his native residence Join with the present sickness that I have; And thy unkindness be like crooked age, To crop at once a too long withered flower O my liege, Pardon me, if you please; if not, I, pleas'd Not to be pardoned, am content withal My heart is great; but it must break with silence, Ere't be disburdened with a liberal tongue Wars hath not wasted it, for warr'd he hath not, But basely yielded upon compromise That which his noble ancestors achiev'd with blows Yet again methinks Some unborn sorrow, ripe in fortune's womb, Is coming towards me, and my inward soul With nothing trembles Howe'er it be, I cannot but be sad; so heavy sad As-though, on thinking, on no thought I think- Makes me with heavy nothing faint and shrink Ah, madam, 'tis too true; and that is worse, The Lord Northumberland, his son young Henry Percy, The Lords of Ross, Beaumond, and Willoughby, With all their powerful friends, are fled to him I would to God, So my untruth had not provok'd him to it, The King had cut off my head with my brother's And that is the wavering commons; for their love Lies in their purses; and whoso empties them, By so much fills their hearts with deadly hate But he, my lord, is gone to Ravenspurgh, To offer service to the Duke of Hereford; And sent me over by Berkeley, to discover What power the Duke of York had levied there; Then with directions to repair to Ravenspurgh Here come the Lords of Ross and Willoughby, Bloody with spurring, fiery-red with haste To you, my lord, I come-what lord you will- From the most gracious regent of this land, The Duke of York, to know what pricks you on To take advantage of the absent time, And fright our native peace with self-borne arms My comfort is that heaven will take our souls, And plague injustice with the pains of hell Dear earth, I do salute thee with my hand, Though rebels wound thee with their horses' hoofs As a long-parted mother with her child Plays fondly with her tears and smiles in meeting, So weeping-smiling greet I thee, my earth, And do thee favours with my royal hands Like an unseasonable stormy day Which makes the silver rivers drown their shores, As if the world were all dissolv'd to tears, So high above his limits swells the rage Of Bolingbroke, covering your fearful land With hard bright steel and hearts harder than steel So that by this intelligence we learn The Welshmen are dispers'd; and Salisbury Is gone to meet the King, who lately landed With some few private friends upon this coast Tell Bolingbroke, for yon methinks he stands, That every stride he makes upon my land Is dangerous treason; he is come to open The purple testament of bleeding war; But ere the crown he looks for live in peace, Ten thousand bloody crowns of mothers' sons Shall ill become the flower of England's face, Change the complexion of her maid-pale peace To scarlet indignation, and bedew Her pastures' grass with faithful English blood His noble cousin is right welcome hither; And all the number of his fair demands Shall be accomplish'd without contradiction to drop them still upon one place Till they have fretted us a pair of graves Within the earth; and, therein laid-there lies Two kinsmen digg'd their graves with weeping eyes Fair cousin, you debase your princely knee To make the base earth proud with kissing it In your lord's scale is nothing but himself, And some few vanities that make him light; But in the balance of great Bolingbroke, Besides himself, are all the English peers, And with that odds he weighs King Richard down Princes, and noble lords, What answer shall I make to this base man? Shall I so much dishonour my fair stars On equal terms to give him chastisement? Either I must, or have mine honour soil'd With the attainder of his slanderous lips If thou deniest it twenty times, thou liest; And I will turn thy falsehood to thy heart, Where it was forged, with my rapier's point Fetch hither Richard, that in common view He may surrender; so we shall proceed Without suspicion The cares I give I have, though given away; They tend the crown, yet still with me they stay God pardon all oaths that are broke to me! God keep all vows unbroke are made to thee! Make me, that nothing have, with nothing griev'd, And thou with all pleas'd, that hast an achiev'd Must I do so? And must I ravel out My weav'd-up follies? Gentle Northumberland, If thy offences were upon record, Would it not shame thee in so fair a troop To read a lecture of them? If thou wouldst, There shouldst thou find one heinous article, Containing the deposing of a king And cracking the strong warrant of an oath, Mark'd with a blot, damn'd in the book of heaven my grief lies all within; And these external manner of laments Are merely shadows to the unseen grief That swells with silence in the tortur'd soul Enter KING RICHARD and Guard But soft, but see, or rather do not see, My fair rose wither Yet look up, behold, That you in pity may dissolve to dew, And wash him fresh again with true-love tears Twice for one step I'll groan, the way being short, And piece the way out with a heavy heart God save your Grace! I do beseech your Majesty, To have some conference with your Grace alone But whate'er I be, Nor I, nor any man that but man is, With nothing shall be pleas'd till he be eas'd With being nothing So proud that Bolingbroke was on his back! That jade hath eat bread from my royal hand; This hand hath made him proud with clapping him His Majesty hath straitly given in charge That no man shall have private conference, Of what degree soever, with your brother I do beseech your Grace to pardon me, and withal Forbear your conference with the noble Duke Exit HASTINGS He cannot live, I hope, and must not die Till George be pack'd with posthorse up to heaven Foul devil, for God's sake, hence and trouble us not; For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell Fill'd it with cursing cries and deep exclaims Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn salt tears, Sham'd their aspects with store of childish drops- These eyes, which never shed remorseful tear, No, when my father York and Edward wept To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made When black-fac'd Clifford shook his sword at him; Nor when thy warlike father, like a child, Told the sad story of my father's death, And twenty times made pause to sob and weep That all the standers-by had wet their cheeks Like trees bedash'd with rain-in that sad time My manly eyes did scorn an humble tear; And what these sorrows could not thence exhale Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with weeping That it may please you leave these sad designs To him that hath most cause to be a mourner, And presently repair to Crosby House; Where-after I have solemnly interr'd At Chertsey monast'ry this noble king, And wet his grave with my repentant tears- I will with all expedient duty see you In that you brook it ill, it makes him worse; Therefore, for God's sake, entertain good comfort, And cheer his Grace with quick and merry eyes Who is it that complains unto the King That I, forsooth, am stern and love them not? By holy Paul, they love his Grace but lightly That fill his ears with such dissentious rumours When have I injur'd thee? when done thee wrong, Or thee, or thee, or any of your faction? A plague upon you all! His royal Grace- Whom God preserve better than you would wish!- Cannot be quiet searce a breathing while But you must trouble him with lewd complaints Was not your husband In Margaret's battle at Saint Albans slain? Let me put in your minds, if you forget, What you have been ere this, and what you are; Withal, what I have been, and what I am What, were you snarling all before I came, Ready to catch each other by the throat, And turn you all your hatred now on me? Did York's dread curse prevail so much with heaven That Henry's death, my lovely Edward's death, Their kingdom's loss, my woeful banishment, Should all but answer for that peevish brat? Can curses pierce the clouds and enter heaven? Why then, give way, dull clouds, to my quick curses! Though not by war, by surfeit die your king, As ours by murder, to make him a king! Edward thy son, that now is Prince of Wales, For Edward our son, that was Prince of Wales, Die in his youth by like untimely violence! Thyself a queen, for me that was a queen, Outlive thy glory, like my wretched self! Long mayest thou live to wail thy children's death, And see another, as I see thee now, Deck'd in thy rights, as thou art stall'd in mine! Long die thy happy days before thy death; And, after many length'ned hours of grief, Die neither mother, wife, nor England's Queen! Rivers and Dorset, you were standers by, And so wast thou, Lord Hastings, when my son Was stabb'd with bloody daggers Ay, and much more; but I was born so high, Our aery buildeth in the cedar's top, And dallies with the wind, and scorns the sun Now fair befall thee and thy noble house! Thy garments are not spotted with our blood, Nor thou within the compass of my curse It is turn'd out of towns and cities for a dangerous thing; and every man that means to live well endeavours to trust to himself and live without it Are you drawn forth among a world of men To slay the innocent? What is my offence? Where is the evidence that doth accuse me? What lawful quest have given their verdict up Unto the frowning judge, or who pronounc'd The bitter sentence of poor Clarence' death? Before I be convict by course of law, To threaten me with death is most unlawful By heaven, my soul is purg'd from grudging hate; And with my hand I seal my true heart's love Alas, you three on me, threefold distress'd, Pour all your tears! I am your sorrow's nurse, And I will pamper it with lamentation Sweet Prince, the untainted virtue of your years Hath not yet div'd into the world's deceit; Nor more can you distinguish of a man Than of his outward show; which, God He knows, Seldom or never jumpeth with the heart The tender Prince Would fain have come with me to meet your Grace, But by his mother was perforce withheld The benefit thereof is always granted To those whose dealings have deserv'd the place And those who have the wit to claim the place That Julius Caesar was a famous man; With what his valour did enrich his wit, His wit set down to make his valour live His Grace looks cheerfully and smooth this morning; There's some conceit or other likes him well When that he bids good morrow with such spirit And this is Edward's wife, that monstrous witch, Consorted with that harlot strumpet Shore, That by their witchcraft thus have marked me But, my good lord, your Grace's words shall serve As well as I had seen and heard him speak; And do not doubt, right noble Princes both, But I'll acquaint our duteous citizens With all your just proceedings in this cause Moreover, urge his hateful luxury And bestial appetite in change of lust, Which stretch'd unto their servants, daughters, wives, Even where his raging eye or savage heart Without control lusted to make a prey If you thrive well, bring them to Baynard's Castle; Where you shall find me well accompanied With reverend fathers and well learned bishops Return, good Catesby, to the gracious Duke; Tell him, myself, the Mayor and Aldermen, In deep designs, in matter of great moment, No less importing than our general good, Are come to have some conference with his Grace If thou wilt outstrip death, go cross the seas, And live with Richmond, from the reach of hell 'Be thou' quoth I 'accurs'd For making me, so young, so old a widow; And when thou wed'st, let sorrow haunt thy bed; And be thy wife, if any be so mad, More miserable by the life of thee Than thou hast made me by my dear lord's death.' Lo, ere I can repeat this curse again, Within so small a time, my woman's heart Grossly grew captive to his honey words And prov'd the subject of mine own soul's curse, Which hitherto hath held my eyes from rest; For never yet one hour in his bed Did I enjoy the golden dew of sleep, But with his timorous dreams was still awak'd [To DORSET] Go thou to Richmond, and good fortune guide thee! [To ANNE] Go thou to Richard, and good angels tend thee! [To QUEEN ELIZABETH] Go thou to sanctuary, and good thoughts possess thee! I to my grave, where peace and rest lie with me! Eighty odd years of sorrow have I seen, And each hour's joy wreck'd with a week of teen I will converse with iron-witted fools [Descends from the throne] And unrespective boys; none are for me That look into me with considerate eyes 'O, thus' quoth Dighton 'lay the gentle babes'- 'Thus, thus,' quoth Forrest 'girdling one another Within their alabaster innocent arms Dead life, blind sight, poor mortal living ghost, Woe's scene, world's shame, grave's due by life usurp'd, Brief abstract and record of tedious days, Rest thy unrest on England's lawful earth, [Sitting down] Unlawfully made drunk with innocent blood My babes were destin'd to a fairer death, If grace had bless'd thee with a fairer life Send to her, by the man that slew her brothers, A pair of bleeding hearts; thereon engrave 'Edward' and 'York.' Then haply will she weep; Therefore present to her-as sometimes Margaret Did to thy father, steep'd in Rutland's blood- A handkerchief; which, say to her, did drain The purple sap from her sweet brother's body, And bid her wipe her weeping eyes withal If this inducement move her not to love, Send her a letter of thy noble deeds; Tell her thou mad'st away her uncle Clarence, Her uncle Rivers; ay, and for her sake Mad'st quick conveyance with her good aunt Anne Nay, then indeed she cannot choose but hate thee, Having bought love with such a bloody spoil The King, that calls your beauteous daughter wife, Familiarly shall call thy Dorset brother; Again shall you be mother to a king, And all the ruins of distressful times Repair'd with double riches of content Go, then, my mother, to thy daughter go; Make bold her bashful years with your experience; Prepare her ears to hear a wooer's tale; Put in her tender heart th' aspiring flame Of golden sovereignty; acquaint the Princes With the sweet silent hours of marriage joys The children live whose fathers thou hast slaughter'd, Ungovern'd youth, to wail it in their age; The parents live whose children thou hast butcheed, Old barren plants, to wail it with their age My gracious sovereign, now in Devonshire, As I by friends am well advertised, Sir Edward Courtney and the haughty prelate, Bishop of Exeter, his elder brother, With many moe confederates, are in arms Sir Walter Herbert, a renowned soldier; SIR Gilbert Talbot, Sir William Stanley, OXFORD, redoubted Pembroke, Sir James Blunt, And Rice ap Thomas, with a valiant crew; And many other of great name and worth; And towards London do they bend their power, If by the way they be not fought withal My Lord of Oxford-you, Sir William Brandon- And you, Sir Walter Herbert-stay with me I'll strive with troubled thoughts to take a nap, Lest leaden slumber peise me down to-morrow When I should mount with wings of victory [To RICHARD] Richard, thy wife, that wretched Anne thy wife That never slept a quiet hour with thee Now fills thy sleep with perturbations They thus directed, we will follow In the main battle, whose puissance on either side Shall be well winged with our chiefest horse Courageous Richmond, well hast thou acquit thee! Lo, here, this long-usurped royalty From the dead temples of this bloody wretch Have I pluck'd off, to grace thy brows withal He is, my lord, and safe in Leicester town, Whither, if it please you, we may now withdraw us From forth the fatal loins of these two foes A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life; Whose misadventur'd piteous overthrows Doth with their death bury their parents' strife Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word By thee, old Capulet, and Montague, Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets And made Verona's ancient citizens Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments To wield old partisans, in hands as old, Cank'red with peace, to part your cank'red hate In the instant came The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepar'd; Which, as he breath'd defiance to my ears, He swung about his head and cut the winds, Who, nothing hurt withal, hiss'd him in scorn Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast, Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest With more of thine Love is a smoke rais'd with the fume of sighs; Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; Being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears Tut, man, one fire burns out another's burning; One pain is lessoned by another's anguish; Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning; One desperate grief cures with another's languish At this same ancient feast of Capulet's Sups the fair Rosaline whom thou so lov'st; With all the admired beauties of Verona The fish lives in the sea, and 'tis much pride For fair without the fair within to hide Take our good meaning, for our judgment sits Five times in that ere once in our five wits And in this state she 'gallops night by night Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love; O'er courtiers' knees, that dream on cursies straight; O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees; O'er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream, Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are Welcome, gentlemen! Ladies that have their toes Unplagu'd with corns will have a bout with you My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss Now old desire doth in his deathbed lie, And young affection gapes to be his heir; That fair for which love groan'd for and would die, With tender Juliet match'd, is now not fair Being held a foe, he may not have access To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear, And she as much in love, her means much less To meet her new beloved anywhere; But passion lends them power, time means, to meet, Temp'ring extremities with extreme sweet [Climbs the wall and leaps down within it.] Enter Benvolio with Mercutio So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, Retain that dear perfection which he owes Without that title A thousand times the worse, to want thy light! Love goes toward love as schoolboys from their books; But love from love, towards school with heavy looks Hist! Romeo, hist! O for a falconer's voice To lure this tassel-gentle back again! Bondage is hoarse and may not speak aloud; Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies, And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine With repetition of my Romeo's name Non, ere the sun advance his burning eye The day to cheer and night's dank dew to dry, I must up-fill this osier cage of ours With baleful weeds and precious-juiced flowers Within the infant rind of this small flower Poison hath residence, and medicine power; For this, being smelt, with that part cheers each part; Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart Now, good sweet nurse- O Lord, why look'st thou sad? Though news be sad, yet tell them merrily; If good, thou shamest the music of sweet news By playing it to me with so sour a face And but one word with one of us? Couple it with something; make it a word and a blow Hold, Tybalt! Good Mercutio! Tybalt under Romeo's arm thrusts Mercutio in, and flies [with his Followers] Lovers can see to do their amorous rites By their own beauties; or, if love be blind, It best agrees with night Fie, fie, thou shamest thy shape, thy love, thy wit, Which, like a usurer, abound'st in all, And usest none in that true use indeed Which should bedeck thy shape, thy love, thy wit Thy noble shape is but a form of wax Digressing from the valour of a man; Thy dear love sworn but hollow perjury, Killing that love which thou hast vow'd to cherish; Thy wit, that ornament to shape and love, Misshapen in the conduct of them both, Like powder in a skilless soldier's flask, is get afire by thine own ignorance, And thou dismemb'red with thine own defence Then, since the case so stands as now it doth, I think it best you married with the County If in thy wisdom thou canst give no help, Do thou but call my resolution wise And with this knife I'll help it presently To-morrow night look that thou lie alone; Let not the nurse lie with thee in thy chamber A jealous hood, a jealous hood! Enter three or four [Fellows, with spits and logs and baskets Then have at you with my wit! I will dry-beat you with an iron wit, and put up my iron dagger 'Then music with her silver sound With speedy help doth lend redress.' [Exit My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne, And all this day an unaccustom'd spirit Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts Sweet flower, with flowers thy bridal bed I strew (O woe! thy canopy is dust and stones) Which with sweet water nightly I will dew; Or, wanting that, with tears distill'd by moans What cursed foot wanders this way to-night To cross my obsequies and true love's rite? What, with a torch? Muffle me, night, awhile But if thou, jealous, dost return to pry In what I farther shall intend to do, By heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint And strew this hungry churchyard with thy limbs Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death, Gorg'd with the dearest morsel of the earth, Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open, And in despite I'll cram thee with more food [Exeunt others of the Watch.] We see the ground whereon these woes do lie, But the true ground of all these piteous woes We cannot without circumstance descry What misadventure is so early up, That calls our person from our morning rest? Enter Capulet and his Wife [with others] The people in the street cry 'Romeo,' Some 'Juliet,' and some 'Paris'; and all run, With open outcry, toward our monument This letter doth make good the friar's words, Their course of love, the tidings of her death; And here he writes that he did buy a poison Of a poor pothecary, and therewithal Came to this vault to die, and lie with Juliet Huntsman, I charge thee, tender well my hounds; Brach Merriman, the poor cur, is emboss'd; And couple Clowder with the deep-mouth'd brach This do, and do it kindly, gentle sirs; It will be pastime passing excellent, If it be husbanded with modesty Or wilt thou ride? Thy horses shall be trapp'd, Their harness studded all with gold and pearl Pisa, renowned for grave citizens, Gave me my being and my father first, A merchant of great traffic through the world, Vincentio, come of the Bentivolii; Vincentio's son, brought up in Florence, It shall become to serve all hopes conceiv'd, To deck his fortune with his virtuous deeds Tell me thy mind; for I have Pisa left And am to Padua come as he that leaves A shallow plash to plunge him in the deep, And with satiety seeks to quench his thirst O, yes, I saw sweet beauty in her face, Such as the daughter of Agenor had, That made great Jove to humble him to her hand, When with his knees he kiss'd the Cretan strand Her elder sister is so curst and shrewd That, till the father rid his hands of her, Master, your love must live a maid at home; And therefore has he closely mew'd her up, Because she will not be annoy'd with suitors an she stand him but a little, he will throw a figure in her face, and so disfigure her with it that she shall have no more eyes to see withal than a cat You understand me- over and beside Signior Baptista's liberality, I'll mend it with a largess Why came I hither but to that intent? Think you a little din can daunt mine ears? Have I not in my time heard lions roar? Have I not heard the sea, puff'd up with winds, Rage like an angry boar chafed with sweat? Have I not heard great ordnance in the field, And heaven's artillery thunder in the skies? Have I not in a pitched battle heard Loud 'larums, neighing steeds, and trumpets' clang? And do you tell me of a woman's tongue, That gives not half so great a blow to hear As will a chestnut in a fariner's fire? Tush! tush! fear boys with bugs Is it for him you do envy me so? Nay, then you jest; and now I well perceive You have but jested with me all this while Exeunt all but PETRUCHIO I'll attend her here, And woo her with some spirit when she comes Say that she frown; I'll say she looks as clear As morning roses newly wash'd with dew Thou canst not frown, thou canst not look askance, Nor bite the lip, as angry wenches will, Nor hast thou pleasure to be cross in talk; But thou with mildness entertain'st thy wooers; With gentle conference, soft and affable Call you me daughter? Now I promise you You have show'd a tender fatherly regard To wish me wed to one half lunatic, A mad-cap ruffian and a swearing Jack, That thinks with oaths to face the matter out Though he be blunt, I know him passing wise; Though he be merry, yet withal he's honest Tedious it were to tell, and harsh to hear; Sufficeth I am come to keep my word, Though in some part enforced to digress, Which at more leisure I will so excuse As you shall well be satisfied withal What dogs are these? Where is the rascal cook? How durst you villains bring it from the dresser And serve it thus to me that love it not? There, take it to you, trenchers, cups, and all; [Throws the meat, etc., at them] You heedless joltheads and unmanner'd slaves! What, do you grumble? I'll be with you straight I tell thee, Kate, 'twas burnt and dried away, And I expressly am forbid to touch it; For it engenders choler, planteth anger; And better 'twere that both of us did fast, Since, of ourselves, ourselves are choleric, Than feed it with such over-roasted flesh She eat no meat to-day, nor none shall eat; Last night she slept not, nor to-night she shall not; As with the meat, some undeserved fault I'll find about the making of the bed; And here I'll fling the pillow, there the bolster, This way the coverlet, another way the sheets; Ay, and amid this hurly I intend That all is done in reverend care of her- And, in conclusion, she shall watch all night; And if she chance to nod I'll rail and brawl And with the clamour keep her still awake See, how they kiss and court! Signior Lucentio, Here is my hand, and here I firmly vow Never to woo her more, but do forswear her, As one unworthy all the former favours That I have fondly flatter'd her withal Mistress Bianca, bless you with such grace As 'longeth to a lover's blessed case! Nay, I have ta'en you napping, gentle love, And have forsworn you with Hortensio Go, get thee gone, thou false deluding slave, [Beats him] That feed'st me with the very name of meat And now, my honey love, Will we return unto thy father's house And revel it as bravely as the best, With silken coats and caps, and golden rings, With ruffs and cuffs and farthingales and things, With scarfs and fans and double change of brav'ry What, hast thou din'd? The tailor stays thy leisure, To deck thy body with his ruffling treasure Right true it is your son Lucentio here Doth love my daughter, and she loveth him, Or both dissemble deeply their affections; And therefore, if you say no more than this, That like a father you will deal with him, And pass my daughter a sufficient dower, The match is made, and all is done- Your son shall have my daughter with consent Take your assurance of her, cum privilegio ad imprimendum solum; to th' church take the priest, clerk, and some sufficient honest witnesses My master hath appointed me to go to Saint Luke's to bid the priest be ready to come against you come with your appendix She will be pleas'd; then wherefore should I doubt? Hap what hap may, I'll roundly go about her; It shall go hard if Cambio go without her Do you hear, sir? To leave frivolous circumstances, I pray you tell Signior Lucentio that his father is come from Pisa, and is here at the door to speak with him Brother Petruchio, sister Katherina, And thou, Hortensio, with thy loving widow, Feast with the best, and welcome to my house Had I been any god of power, I would Have sunk the sea within the earth or ere It should the good ship so have swallow'd and The fraughting souls within her He being thus lorded, Not only with what my revenue yielded, But what my power might else exact, like one Who having into truth, by telling of it, Made such a sinner of his memory, To credit his own lie-he did believe He was indeed the Duke; out o' th' substitution, And executing th' outward face of royalty With all prerogative This King of Naples, being an enemy To me inveterate, hearkens my brother's suit; Which was, that he, in lieu o' th' premises, Of homage, and I know not how much tribute, Should presently extirpate me and mine Out of the dukedom, and confer fair Milan With all the honours on my brother Dear, they durst not, So dear the love my people bore me; nor set A mark so bloody on the business; but With colours fairer painted their foul ends I prithee, Remember I have done thee worthy service, Told thee no lies, made thee no mistakings, serv'd Without or grudge or grumblings Thou dost; and think'st it much to tread the ooze Of the salt deep, To run upon the sharp wind of the north, To do me business in the veins o' th' earth When it is bak'd with frost When thou didst not, savage, Know thine own meaning, but wouldst gabble like A thing most brutish, I endow'd thy purposes With words that made them known What, I say, My foot my tutor? Put thy sword up, traitor; Who mak'st a show but dar'st not strike, thy conscience Is so possess'd with guilt You are gentlemen of brave mettle; you would lift the moon out of her sphere, if she would continue in it five weeks without changing Why, as I told thee, 'tis a custom with him I' th' afternoon to sleep; there thou mayst brain him, Having first seiz'd his books; or with a log Batter his skull, or paunch him with a stake, Or cut his wezand with thy knife He has brave utensils-for so he calls them- Which, when he has a house, he'll deck withal Therefore my son i' th' ooze is bedded; and I'll seek him deeper than e'er plummet sounded, And with him there lie mudded Before you can say 'come' and 'go,' And breathe twice, and cry 'so, so,' Each one, tripping on his toe, Will be here with mop and mow I met her Deity Cutting the clouds towards Paphos, and her son Dove-drawn with her We are such stuff As dreams are made on; and our little life Is rounded with a sleep Sir, I am vex'd; Bear with my weakness; my old brain is troubled; Be not disturb'd with my infirmity Monster, your fairy, which you say is a harmless fairy, has done little better than play'd the Jack with us We shall lose our time, And all be turn'd to barnacles, or to apes With foreheads villainous low Now does my project gather to a head; My charms crack not, my spirits obey; and time Goes upright with his carriage Was Milan thrust from Milan, that his issue Should become Kings of Naples? O, rejoice Beyond a common joy, and set it down With gold on lasting pillars This mis-shapen knave- His mother was a witch, and one so strong That could control the moon, make flows and ebbs, And deal in her command without her power Let me not, Since I have my dukedom got, And pardon'd the deceiver, dwell In this bare island by your spell; But release me from my bands With the help of your good hands I have in this rough work shap'd out a man Whom this beneath world doth embrace and hug With amplest entertainment We make ourselves fools to disport ourselves, And spend our flatteries to drink those men Upon whose age we void it up again With poisonous spite and envy Do it then, that we may account thee a whoremaster and a knave; which notwithstanding, thou shalt be no less esteemed I will dispatch you severally- you to Lord Lucius; to Lord Lucullus you; I hunted with his honour to-day When he was poor, Imprison'd, and in scarcity of friends, I clear'd him with five talents Greet him from me, Bid him suppose some good necessity Touches his friend, which craves to be rememb'red With those five talents Thy lord's a bountiful gentleman; but thou art wise, and thou know'st well enough, although thou com'st to me, that this is no time to lend money, especially upon bare friendship without security It pleases time and fortune to lie heavy Upon a friend of mine, who in hot blood Hath stepp'd into the law, which is past depth To those that without heed do plunge into't To be in anger is impiety; But who is man that is not angry? Weigh but the crime with this Son of sixteen, Pluck the lin'd crutch from thy old limping sire, With it beat out his brains Itches, blains, Sow all th' Athenian bosoms, and their crop Be general leprosy! Breath infect breath, That their society, as their friendship, may Be merely poison! Nothing I'll bear from thee But nakedness, thou detestable town! Take thou that too, with multiplying bans O blessed breeding sun, draw from the earth Rotten humidity; below thy sister's orb Infect the air! Twinn'd brothers of one womb- Whose procreation, residence, and birth, Scarce is dividant- touch them with several fortunes Ha, you gods! why this? What, this, you gods? Why, this Will lug your priests and servants from your sides, Pluck stout men's pillows from below their heads- This yellow slave Will knit and break religions, bless th' accurs'd, Make the hoar leprosy ador'd, place thieves And give them title, knee, and approbation, With senators on the bench O you gods! Is yond despis'd and ruinous man my lord? Full of decay and failing? O monument And wonder of good deeds evilly bestow'd! What an alteration of honour Has desp'rate want made! What viler thing upon the earth than friends, Who can bring noblest minds to basest ends! How rarely does it meet with this time's guise, When man was wish'd to love his enemies! Grant I may ever love, and rather woo Those that would mischief me than those that do! Has caught me in his eye; I will present My honest grief unto him, and as my lord Still serve him with my life Give to dogs What thou deniest to men; let prisons swallow 'em, Debts wither 'em to nothing Sir, Having often of your open bounty tasted, Hearing you were retir'd, your friends fall'n off, Whose thankless natures- O abhorred spirits!- Not all the whips of heaven are large enough- What! to you, Whose star-like nobleness gave life and influence To their whole being! I am rapt, and cannot cover The monstrous bulk of this ingratitude With any size of words It is vain that you would speak with Timon; For he is set so only to himself That nothing but himself which looks like man Is friendly with him Therefore so please thee to return with us, And of our Athens, thine and ours, to take The captainship, thou shalt be met with thanks, Allow'd with absolute power, and thy good name Live with authority Now the time is flush, When crouching marrow, in the bearer strong, Cries of itself 'No more!' Now breathless wrong Shall sit and pant in your great chairs of ease, And pursy insolence shall break his wind With fear and horrid flight Then, dear countryman, Bring in thy ranks, but leave without thy rage; Spare thy Athenian cradle, and those kin Which, in the bluster of thy wrath, must fall With those that have offended What thou wilt, Thou rather shalt enforce it with thy smile Than hew to't with thy sword Noble patricians, patrons of my right, Defend the justice of my cause with arms; And, countrymen, my loving followers, Plead my successive title with your swords I am his first born son that was the last That ware the imperial diadem of Rome; Then let my father's honours live in me, Nor wrong mine age with this indignity Thou great defender of this Capitol, Stand gracious to the rites that we intend! Romans, of five and twenty valiant sons, Half of the number that King Priam had, Behold the poor remains, alive and dead! These that survive let Rome reward with love; These that I bring unto their latest home, With burial amongst their ancestors Give us the proudest prisoner of the Goths, That we may hew his limbs, and on a pile Ad manes fratrum sacrifice his flesh Before this earthy prison of their bones, That so the shadows be not unappeas'd, Nor we disturb'd with prodigies on earth Remaineth nought but to inter our brethren, And with loud 'larums welcome them to Rome Titus Andronicus, the people of Rome, Whose friend in justice thou hast ever been, Send thee by me, their Tribune and their trust, This par]iament of white and spotless hue; And name thee in election for the empire With these our late-deceased Emperor's sons But go thy ways; go, give that changing piece To him that flourish'd for her with his sword Speak, Queen of Goths, dost thou applaud my choice? And here I swear by all the Roman gods- Sith priest and holy water are so near, And tapers burn so bright, and everything In readiness for Hymenaeus stand- I will not re-salute the streets of Rome, Or climb my palace, till from forth this place I lead espous'd my bride along with me Marcus, even thou hast struck upon my crest, And with these boys mine honour thou hast wounded There lie thy bones, sweet Mutius, with thy friends, Till we with trophies do adorn thy tomb Then at my suit look graciously on him; Lose not so noble a friend on vain suppose, Nor with sour looks afflict his gentle heart To-morrow, and it please your Majesty To hunt the panther and the hart with me, With horn and hound we'll give your Grace bonjour For that I am prepar'd and full resolv'd, Foul-spoken coward, that thund'rest with thy tongue, And with thy weapon nothing dar'st perform Uncouple here, and let us make a bay, And wake the Emperor and his lovely bride, And rouse the Prince, and ring a hunter's peal, That all the court may echo with the noise I did, my lord, yet let me be their bail; For, by my fathers' reverend tomb, I vow They shall be ready at your Highness' will To answer their suspicion with their lives What stern ungentle hands Hath lopp'd, and hew'd, and made thy body bare Of her two branches- those sweet ornaments Whose circling shadows kings have sought to sleep in, And might not gain so great a happiness As half thy love? Why dost not speak to me? Alas, a crimson river of warm blood, Like to a bubbling fountain stirr'd with wind, Doth rise and fall between thy rosed lips, Coming and going with thy honey breath Ah, now thou turn'st away thy face for shame! And notwithstanding all this loss of blood- As from a conduit with three issuing spouts- Yet do thy cheeks look red as Titan's face Blushing to be encount'red with a cloud O earth, I will befriend thee more with rain That shall distil from these two ancient urns, Than youthful April shall with all his show'rs A stone is silent and offendeth not, And tribunes with their tongues doom men to death Look, Marcus! Ah, son Lucius, look on her! When I did name her brothers, then fresh tears Stood on her cheeks, as doth the honey dew Upon a gath'red lily almost withered Ah, Marcus, Marcus! Brother, well I wot Thy napkin cannot drink a tear of mine, For thou, poor man, hast drown'd it with thine own O gracious Emperor! O gentle Aaron! Did ever raven sing so like a lark That gives sweet tidings of the sun's uprise? With all my heart I'll send the Emperor my hand Then give me leave; for losers will have leave To ease their stomachs with their bitter tongues Why, I have not another tear to shed; Besides, this sorrow is an enemy, And would usurp upon my wat'ry eyes And make them blind with tributary tears Marcus, unknit that sorrow-wreathen knot; Thy niece and I, poor creatures, want our hands, And cannot passionate our tenfold grief With folded arms Hark, Marcus, what she says- I can interpret all her martyr'd signs; She says she drinks no other drink but tears, Brew'd with her sorrow, mesh'd upon her cheeks Good grandsire, leave these bitter deep laments; Make my aunt merry with some pleasing tale TITUS' garden Enter YOUNG LUCIUS and LAVINIA running after him, and the boy flies from her with his books under his arm My lord, kneel down with me; Lavinia, kneel; And kneel, sweet boy, the Roman Hector's hope; And swear with me- as, with the woeful fere And father of that chaste dishonoured dame, Lord Junius Brutus sware for Lucrece' rape- That we will prosecute, by good advice, Mortal revenge upon these traitorous Goths, And see their blood or die with this reproach A joyless, dismal, black, and sorrowful issue! Here is the babe, as loathsome as a toad Amongst the fair-fac'd breeders of our clime; The Empress sends it thee, thy stamp, thy seal, And bids thee christen it with thy dagger's point Tell him it is for justice and for aid, And that it comes from old Andronicus, Shaken with sorrows in ungrateful Rome Is warlike Lucius general of the Goths? These tidings nip me, and I hang the head As flowers with frost, or grass beat down with storms Then cheer thy spirit; for know thou, Emperor, I will enchant the old Andronicus With words more sweet, and yet more dangerous, Than baits to fish or honey-stalks to sheep, When as the one is wounded with the bait, The other rotted with delicious feed I made unto the noise, when soon I heard The crying babe controll'd with this discourse First hang the child, that he may see it sprawl- A sight to vex the father's soul withal I train'd thy brethren to that guileful hole Where the dead corpse of Bassianus lay; I wrote the letter that thy father found, And hid the gold within that letter mention'd, Confederate with the Queen and her two sons; And what not done, that thou hast cause to rue, Wherein I had no stroke of mischief in it? I play'd the cheater for thy father's hand, And, when I had it, drew myself apart And almost broke my heart with extreme laughter Even now I curse the day- and yet, I think, Few come within the compass of my curse- Wherein I did not some notorious ill; As kill a man, or else devise his death; Ravish a maid, or plot the way to do it; Accuse some innocent, and forswear myself; Set deadly enmity between two friends; Make poor men's cattle break their necks; Set fire on barns and hay-stacks in the night, And bid the owners quench them with their tears Thus, in this strange and sad habiliment, I will encounter with Andronicus, And say I am Revenge, sent from below To join with him and right his heinous wrongs Lo, by thy side where Rape and Murder stands; Now give some surance that thou art Revenge- Stab them, or tear them on thy chariot wheels; And then I'll come and be thy waggoner And whirl along with thee about the globes Tell him the Emperor and the Empress too Feast at my house, and he shall feast with them [Aside to her sons] What say you, boys? Will you abide with him, Whiles I go tell my lord the Emperor How I have govern'd our determin'd jest? Yield to his humour, smooth and speak him fair, And tarry with him till I turn again O villains, Chiron and Demetrius! Here stands the spring whom you have stain'd with mud; This goodly summer with your winter mix'd Sixty and nine that wore Their crownets regal from th' Athenian bay Put forth toward Phrygia; and their vow is made To ransack Troy, within whose strong immures The ravish'd Helen, Menelaus' queen, With wanton Paris sleeps-and that's the quarrel Peace, you ungracious clamours! Peace, rude sounds! Fools on both sides! Helen must needs be fair, When with your blood you daily paint her thus he is as valiant as a lion, churlish as the bear, slow as the elephant-a man into whom nature hath so crowded humours that his valour is crush'd into folly, his folly sauced with discretion Speak, Prince of Ithaca; and be't of less expect That matter needless, of importless burden, Divide thy lips than we are confident, When rank Thersites opes his mastic jaws, We shall hear music, wit, and oracle And in the imitation of these twain- Who, as Ulysses says, opinion crowns With an imperial voice-many are infect Ajax is grown self-will'd and bears his head In such a rein, in full as proud a place As broad Achilles; keeps his tent like him; Makes factious feasts; rails on our state of war Bold as an oracle, and sets Thersites, A slave whose gall coins slanders like a mint, To match us in comparisons with dirt, To weaken and discredit our exposure, How rank soever rounded in with danger Do not consent That ever Hector and Achilles meet; For both our honour and our shame in this Are dogg'd with two strange followers No, make a lott'ry; And, by device, let blockish Ajax draw The sort to fight with Hector I shall sooner rail thee into wit and holiness; but I think thy horse will sooner con an oration than thou learn a prayer without book Manhood and honour Should have hare hearts, would they but fat their thoughts With this cramm'd reason 'Tis mad idolatry To make the service greater than the god-I And the will dotes that is attributive To what infectiously itself affects, Without some image of th' affected merit That were to enlard his fat-already pride, And add more coals to Cancer when he burns With entertaining great Hyperion Blind fear, that seeing reason leads, finds safer footing than blind reason stumbling without fear Perchance, my lord, I show more craft than love; And fell so roundly to a large confession To angle for your thoughts; but you are wise- Or else you love not; for to be wise and love Exceeds man's might; that dwells with gods above What, am I poor of late? 'Tis certain, greatness, once fall'n out with fortune, Must fall out with men too Why, 'a stalks up and down like a peacock-a stride and a stand; ruminaies like an hostess that hath no arithmetic but her brain to set down her reckoning, bites his lip with a politic regard, as who should say 'There were wit in this head, an 'twould out'; and so there is; but it lies as coldly in him as fire in a flint, which will not show without knocking Our bloods are now in calm; and so long health! But when contention and occasion meet, By Jove, I'll play the hunter for thy life With all my force, pursuit, and policy He merits well to have her that doth seek her, Not making any scruple of her soilure, With such a hell of pain and world of charge; And you as well to keep her that defend her, Not palating the taste of her dishonour, With such a costly loss of wealth and friends Beshrew the witch! with venomous wights she stays As tediously as hell, but flies the grasps of love With wings more momentary-swift than thought Tear my bright hair, and scratch my praised cheeks, Crack my clear voice with sobs and break my heart, With sounding 'Troilus.' I will not go from Troy We two, that with so many thousand sighs Did buy each other, must poorly sell ourselves With the rude brevity and discharge of one As many farewells as be stars in heaven, With distinct breath and consign'd kisses to them, He fumbles up into a loose adieu, And scants us with a single famish'd kiss, Distasted with the salt of broken tears The Grecian youths are full of quality; They're loving, well compos'd with gifts of nature, And flowing o'er with arts and exercise Who, I? Alas, it is my vice, my fault! Whiles others fish with craft for great opinion, I with great truth catch mere simplicity; Whilst some with cunning gild their copper crowns, With truth and plainness I do wear mine bare Let me embrace thee, good old chronicle, That hast so long walk'd hand in hand with time I'll heat his blood with Greekish wine to-night, Which with my scimitar I'll cool to-morrow Exit DIOMEDES Troilus, farewell! One eye yet looks on thee; But with my heart the other eye doth see O madness of discourse, That cause sets up with and against itself! Bifold authority! where reason can revolt Without perdition, and loss assume all reason Without revolt Ay, Greek; and that shall be divulged well In characters as red as Mars his heart Inflam'd with Venus My half-supp'd sword, that frankly would have fed, Pleas'd with this dainty bait, thus goes to bed There is a fair behaviour in thee, Captain; And though that nature with a beauteous wall Doth oft close in pollution, yet of thee I will believe thou hast a mind that suits With this thy fair and outward character Methinks sometimes I have no more wit than a Christian or an ordinary man has; but I am great eater of beef, and I believe that does harm to my wit As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be, under the degree of my betters; and yet I will not compare with an old man Anything that's mended is but patch'd; virtue that transgresses is but patch'd with sin, and sin that amends is but patch'd with virtue I told him you were sick; he takes on him to understand so much, and therefore comes to speak with you I told him you were asleep; he seems to have a foreknowledge of that too, and therefore comes to speak with you Has been told so; and he says he'll stand at your door like a sheriff's post, and be the supporter to a bench, but he'll speak with you If you be not mad, be gone; if you have reason, be brief; 'tis not that time of moon with me to make one in so skipping dialogue She is drown'd already, sir, with salt water, though I seem to drown her remembrance again with more Ay, he does well enough if he be dispos'd, and so do I too; he does it with a better grace, but I do it more natural Sweet Sir Toby, be patient for to-night; since the youth of the Count's was to-day with my lady, she is much out of quiet For Monsieur Malvolio, let me alone with him; if I do not gull him into a nayword, and make him a common recreation, do not think I have wit enough to lie straight in my bed He shall think, by the letters that thou wilt drop, that they come from my niece, and that she's in love with him Nay, I'll come; if I lose a scruple of this sport let me be boil'd to death with melancholy I would exult, man; you know he brought me out o' favour with my lady about a bear-baiting here Close, in the name of jesting! [As the men hide she drops a letter] Lie thou there; for here comes the trout that must be caught with tickling Troth, sir, I can yield you none without words, and words are grown so false I am loath to prove reason with them I would be sorry, sir, but the fool should be as oft with your master as with my mistress This is a practice As full of labour as a wise man's art; For folly that he wisely shows is fit; But wise men, folly-fall'n, quite taint their wit O world, how apt the poor are to be proud! If one should be a prey, how much the better To fall before the lion than the wolf! [Clock strikes] The clock upbraids me with the waste of time Cesario, by the roses of the spring, By maidhood, honour, truth, and every thing, I love thee so that, maugre all thy pride, Nor wit nor reason can my passion hide Do not extort thy reasons from this clause, For that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause; But rather reason thus with reason fetter My niece shall take note of it; and assure thyself there is no love-broker in the world can more prevail in man's commendation with woman than report of valour Go, write it in a martial hand; be curst and brief; it is no matter how witty, so it be eloquent and full of invention I will bespeak our diet, Whiles you beguile the time and feed your knowledge With viewing of the town; there shall you have me Your ladyship were best to have some guard about you if he come; for sure the man is tainted in's wits O, ho! do you come near me now? No worse man than Sir Toby to look to me! This concurs directly with the letter La you, an you speak ill of the devil, how he takes it at heart! Pray God he be not bewitched You may have very fit occasion for't; he is now in some commerce with my lady, and will by and by depart You'll find it otherwise, I assure you; therefore, if you hold your life at any price, betake you to your guard; for your opposite hath in him what youth, strength, skill, and wrath, can furnish man withal Fie, thou dishonest Satan! I call thee by the most modest terms, for I am one of those gentle ones that will use the devil himself with courtesy Fool, there was never man so notoriously abus'd; I am as well in my wits, fool, as thou art They have here propertied me; keep me in darkness, send ministers to me, asses, and do all they can to face me out of my wits You can fool no more money out of me at this throw; if you will let your lady know I am here to speak with her, and bring her along with you, it may awake my bounty further What would my lord, but that he may not have, Wherein Olivia may seem serviceable? Cesario, you do not keep promise with me I am sorry, madam, I have hurt your kinsman; But, had it been the brother of my blood, I must have done no less with wit and safety Were't not affection chains thy tender days To the sweet glances of thy honour'd love, I rather would entreat thy company To see the wonders of the world abroad, Than, living dully sluggardiz'd at home, Wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness To be in love- where scorn is bought with groans, Coy looks with heart-sore sighs, one fading moment's mirth With twenty watchful, weary, tedious nights; If haply won, perhaps a hapless gain; If lost, why then a grievous labour won; However, but a folly bought with wit, Or else a wit by folly vanquished Yet writers say, as in the sweetest bud The eating canker dwells, so eating love Inhabits in the finest wits of all To Milan let me hear from thee by letters Of thy success in love, and what news else Betideth here in absence of thy friend; And I likewise will visit thee with mine Thou, Julia, thou hast metamorphis'd me, Made me neglect my studies, lose my time, War with good counsel, set the world at nought; Made wit with musing weak, heart sick with thought She makes it strange; but she would be best pleas'd To be so ang'red with another letter And here is writ 'love-wounded Proteus.' Poor wounded name! my bosom,,as a bed, Shall lodge thee till thy wound be throughly heal'd; And thus I search it with a sovereign kiss There is no news, my lord; but that he writes How happily he lives, how well-belov'd And daily graced by the Emperor; Wishing me with him, partner of his fortune Launce, away, away, aboard! Thy master is shipp'd, and thou art to post after with oars Lose the tide, and the voyage, and the master, and the service, and the tied! Why, man, if the river were dry, I am able to fill it with my tears; if the wind were down, I could drive the boat with my sighs Ay, my good lord, I know the gentleman To be of worth and worthy estimation, And not without desert so well reputed His years but young, but his experience old; His head unmellowed, but his judgment ripe; And, in a word, for far behind his worth Comes all the praises that I now bestow, He is complete in feature and in mind, With all good grace to grace a gentleman Welcome, dear Proteus! Mistress, I beseech you Confirm his welcome with some special favour Unheedful vows may heedfully be broken; And he wants wit that wants resolved will To learn his wit t' exchange the bad for better Love, lend me wings to make my purpose swift, As thou hast lent me wit to plot this drift Thou wouldst as soon go kindle fire with snow As seek to quench the fire of love with words The current that with gentle murmur glides, Thou know'st, being stopp'd, impatiently doth rage; But when his fair course is not hindered, He makes sweet music with th' enamell'd stones, Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge He overtaketh in his pilgrimage; And so by many winding nooks he strays, With willing sport, to the wild ocean That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man, If with his tongue he cannot win a woman Her chamber is aloft, far from the ground, And built so shelving that one cannot climb it Without apparent hazard of his life Besides, her intercession chaf'd him so, When she for thy repeal was suppliant, That to close prison he commanded her, With many bitter threats of biding there Proteus, the good conceit I hold of thee- For thou hast shown some sign of good desert- Makes me the better to confer with thee But you, Sir Thurio, are not sharp enough; You must lay lime to tangle her desires By wailful sonnets, whose composed rhymes Should be full-fraught with serviceable vows I kill'd a man, whose death I much repent; But yet I slew him manfully in fight, Without false vantage or base treachery Come, go with us; we'll bring thee to our crews, And show thee all the treasure we have got; Which, with ourselves, all rest at thy dispose Under the colour of commending him I have access my own love to prefer; But Silvia is too fair, too true, too holy, To be corrupted with my worthless gifts Urge not my father's anger, Eglamour, But think upon my grief, a lady's grief, And on the justice of my flying hence To keep me from a most unholy match, Which heaven and fortune still rewards with plagues Enter SILVIA, attended Gentlewoman, good day! I pray you be my mean To bring me where to speak with Madam Silvia I think, If I had such a tire, this face of mine Were full as lovely as is this of hers; And yet the painter flatter'd her a little, Unless I flatter with myself too much I'll use thee kindly for thy mistress' sake, That us'd me so; or else, by Jove I vow, I should have scratch'd out your unseeing eyes, To make my master out of love with thee O thou that dost inhabit in my breast, Leave not the mansion so long tenantless, Lest, growing ruinous, the building fall And leave no memory of what it was! Repair me with thy presence, Silvia O heaven, were man But constant, he were perfect! That one error Fills him with faults; makes him run through all th' sins Nine changes of the wat'ry star hath been The shepherd's note since we have left our throne Without a burden To tell he longs to see his son were strong; But let him say so then, and let him go; But let him swear so, and he shall not stay; We'll thwack him hence with distaffs Yet, go on; Th' offences we have made you do we'll answer, If you first sinn'd with us, and that with us You did continue fault, and that you slipp'd not With any but with us Our praises are our wages; you may ride's With one soft kiss a thousand furlongs ere With spur we heat an acre My lord, Go then; and with a countenance as clear As friendship wears at feasts, keep with Bohemia And with your queen Good Camillo, Your chang'd complexions are to me a mirror Which shows me mine chang'd too; for I must be A party in this alteration, finding Myself thus alter'd with't Not for because Your brows are blacker; yet black brows, they say, Become some women best; so that there be not Too much hair there, but in a semicircle Or a half-moon made with a pen Come on, sit down; come on, and do your best To fright me with your sprites; you're pow'rfull at it How blest am I In my just censure, in my true opinion! Alack, for lesser knowledge! How accurs'd In being so blest! There may be in the cup A spider steep'd, and one may drink, depart, And yet partake no venom, for his knowledge Is not infected; but if one present Th' abhorr'd ingredient to his eye, make known How he hath drunk, he cracks his gorge, his sides, With violent hefts And I wish, my liege, You had only in your silent judgment tried it, Without more overture Within this hour bring me word 'tis done, And by good testimony, or I'll seize thy life, With that thou else call'st thine Leontes leaving- Th' effects of his fond jealousies so grieving That he shuts up himself- imagine me, Gentle spectators, that I now may be In fair Bohemia; and remember well I mention'd a son o' th' King's, which Florizel I now name to you; and with speed so pace To speak of Perdita, now grown in grace Equal with wond'ring For I have heard it said There is an art which in their piedness shares With great creating nature He hath songs for man or woman of all sizes; no milliner can so fit his customers with gloves It was thought she was a woman, and was turn'd into a cold fish for she would not exchange flesh with one that lov'd her It cannot fail but by The violation of my faith; and then Let nature crush the sides o' th' earth together And mar the seeds within! Lift up thy looks Yet for the outside of thy poverty we must make an exchange; therefore discase thee instantly- thou must think there's a necessity in't- and change garments with this gentleman Show those things you found about her, those secret things- all but what she has with her Your worship had like to have given us one, if you had not taken yourself with the manner He has a son- who shall be flay'd alive; then 'nointed over with honey, set on the head of a wasp's nest; then stand till he be three quarters and a dram dead; then recover'd again with aqua-vitae or some other hot infusion; then, raw as he is, and in the hottest day prognostication proclaims, shall he be set against a brick wall, the sun looking with a southward eye upon him, where he is to behold him with flies blown to death Close with him, give him gold; and though authority be a stubborn bear, yet he is oft led by the nose with gold Besides, the gods Will have fulfill'd their secret purposes; For has not the divine Apollo said, Is't not the tenour of his oracle, That King Leontes shall not have an heir Till his lost child be found? Which that it shall, Is all as monstrous to our human reason As my Antigonus to break his grave And come again to me; who, on my life, Did perish with the infant To your court Whiles he was hast'ning- in the chase, it seems, Of this fair couple- meets he on the way The father of this seeming lady and Her brother, having both their country quitted With this young prince Such a deal of wonder is broken out within this hour that ballad-makers cannot be able to express it The mantle of Queen Hermione's; her jewel about the neck of it; the letters of Antigonus found with it, which they know to be his character; the majesty of the creature in resemblance of the mother; the affection of nobleness which nature shows above her breeding; and many other evidences- proclaim her with all certainty to be the King's daughter The ruddiness upon her lip is wet; You'll mar it if you kiss it; stain your own With oily painting [Music] 'Tis time; descend; be stone no more; approach; Strike all that look upon with marvel There's time enough for that, Lest they desire upon this push to trouble Your joys with like relation From off a hill whose concave womb reworded A plaintful story from a sist'ring vale, My spirits t'attend this double voice accorded, And down I laid to list the sad-tuned tale, Ere long espied a fickle maid full pale, Tearing of papers, breaking rings atwain, Storming her world with sorrow's wind and rain So slides he down upon his grained bat, And comely distant sits he by her side; When he again desires her, being sat, Her grievance with his hearing to divide Yet showed his visage by that cost more dear; And nice affections wavering stood in doubt If best were as it was, or best without 'Yet did I not, as some my equals did, Demand of him, nor being desired yielded; Finding myself in honour so forbid, With safest distance I mine honour shielded '"The diamond? why, 'twas beautiful and hard, Whereto his invised properties did tend; The deep-green em'rald, in whose fresh regard Weak sights their sickly radiance do amend; The heaven-hued sapphire and the opal blend With objects manifold; each several stone, With wit well blazoned, smiled, or made some moan '"Now all these hearts that do on mine depend, Feeling it break, with bleeding groans they pine, And supplicant their sighs to your extend, To leave the batt'ry that you make 'gainst mine, Lending soft audience to my sweet design, And credent soul to that strong-bonded oath, That shall prefer and undertake my troth." 'This said, his wat'ry eyes he did dismount, Whose sights till then were levelled on my face; Each cheek a river running from a fount With brinish current downward flowed apace Quotes for: Shakespeare Quotes
Source: Project Gutenburg Texts
|
|
Copyright © 2010