| |
RSS Feed - Site Map - Contact |
| Bible Quotes | Aristotle Quotes | Plato Quotes | Shakespeare Quotes |
Shakespeare quotes on andThou that art now the world's fresh ornament, And only herald to the gaudy spring, Within thine own bud buriest thy content, And tender churl mak'st waste in niggarding Pity the world, or else this glutton be, Source: THE SONNETS Then being asked, where all thy beauty lies, Where all the treasure of thy lusty days; To say within thine own deep sunken eyes, Were an all-eating shame, and thriftless praise This were to be new made when thou art old, And see thy blood warm when thou feel'st it cold 4 Unthrifty loveliness why dost thou spend, Upon thy self thy beauty's legacy? Nature's bequest gives nothing but doth lend, And being frank she lends to those are free 5 Those hours that with gentle work did frame The lovely gaze where every eye doth dwell Will play the tyrants to the very same, And that unfair which fairly doth excel For never-resting time leads summer on To hideous winter and confounds him there, Sap checked with frost and lusty leaves quite gone, Beauty o'er-snowed and bareness every where Then what could death do if thou shouldst depart, Leaving thee living in posterity? Be not self-willed for thou art much too fair, To be death's conquest and make worms thine heir But when from highmost pitch with weary car, Like feeble age he reeleth from the day, The eyes (fore duteous) now converted are From his low tract and look another way 9 Is it for fear to wet a widow's eye, That thou consum'st thy self in single life? Ah, if thou issueless shalt hap to die, The world will wail thee like a makeless wife, The world will be thy widow and still weep, That thou no form of thee hast left behind, When every private widow well may keep, By children's eyes, her husband's shape in mind Look what an unthrift in the world doth spend Shifts Source: THE SONNETS 11 As fast as thou shalt wane so fast thou grow'st, In one of thine, from that which thou departest, And that fresh blood which youngly thou bestow'st, Thou mayst call thine, when thou from youth convertest, Herein lives wisdom, beauty, and increase, Without this folly, age, and cold decay, If all were minded so, the times should cease, And threescore year would make the world away Let those whom nature hath not made for store, Harsh, featureless, and rude, barrenly perish 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 13 O that you were your self, but love you are No longer yours, than you your self here live, Against this coming end you should prepare, And your sweet semblance to some other give When I perceive that men as plants increase, Cheered and checked even by the self-same sky Vaunt in their youthful sap, at height decrease, And wear their brave state out of memory To give away your self, keeps your self still, And you must live drawn by your own sweet skill 17 Who will believe my verse in time to come If it were filled with your most high deserts? Though yet heaven knows it is but as a tomb Which hides your life, and shows not half your parts So should my papers (yellowed with their age) Be scorned, like old men of less truth than tongue, And your true rights be termed a poet's rage, And stretched metre of an antique song But were some child of yours alive that time, You should live twice in it, and in my rhyme Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date But thy eternal summer shall not fade, Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st, Nor shall death brag thou wand'rest in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st, So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee 19 Devouring Time blunt thou the lion's paws, And make the earth devour her own sweet brood, Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger's jaws, And burn the long-lived phoenix, in her blood, Make glad and sorry seasons as thou fleet'st, And do whate'er thou wilt swift-footed Time To the wide world and all her fading sweets Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth, A man in hue all hues in his controlling, Which steals men's eyes and women's souls amazeth But since she pricked thee out for women's pleasure, Mine be thy love and thy love's use their treasure 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 O let me true in love but truly write, And then believe me, my love is as fair, As any mother's child, though not so bright As those gold candles fixed in heaven's air 24 Mine eye hath played the painter and hath stelled, Thy beauty's form in table of my heart, My body is the frame wherein 'tis held, And perspective it is best painter's art The painful warrior famoused for fight, After a thousand victories once foiled, Is from the book of honour razed quite, And all the rest forgot for which he toiled Save that my soul's imaginary sight Presents thy shadow to my sightless view, Which like a jewel (hung in ghastly night) Makes black night beauteous, and her old face new 28 How can I then return in happy plight That am debarred the benefit of rest? When day's oppression is not eased by night, But day by night and night by day oppressed I tell the day to please him thou art bright, And dost him grace when clouds do blot the heaven 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 Then can I drown an eye (unused to flow) For precious friends hid in death's dateless night, And weep afresh love's long since cancelled woe, And moan th' expense of many a vanished sight But if the while I think on thee (dear friend) All losses are restored, and sorrows end 31 Thy bosom is endeared with all hearts, Which I by lacking have supposed dead, And there reigns love and all love's loving parts, And all those friends which I thought buried 34 Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day, And make me travel forth without my cloak, To let base clouds o'ertake me in my way, Hiding thy brav'ry in their rotten smoke? 'Tis not enough that through the cloud thou break, To dry the rain on my storm-beaten face, For no man well of such a salve can speak, That heals the wound, and cures not the disgrace Ah but those tears are pearl which thy love sheds, And they are rich, and ransom all ill deeds 35 No more be grieved at that which thou hast done, Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud, Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun, And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud For to thy sensual fault I bring in sense, Thy adverse party is thy advocate, And 'gainst my self a lawful plea commence 37 As a decrepit father takes delight, To see his active child do deeds of youth, So I, made lame by Fortune's dearest spite Take all my comfort of thy worth and truth So then I am not lame, poor, nor despised, Whilst that this shadow doth such substance give, That I in thy abundance am sufficed, And by a part of all thy glory live O absence what a torment wouldst thou prove, Were it not thy sour leisure gave sweet leave, To entertain the time with thoughts of love, Which time and thoughts so sweetly doth deceive 43 When most I wink then do mine eyes best see, For all the day they view things unrespected, But when I sleep, in dreams they look on thee, And darkly bright, are bright in dark directed Then thou whose shadow shadows doth make bright How would thy shadow's form, form happy show, To the clear day with thy much clearer light, When to unseeing eyes thy shade shines so! How would (I say) mine eyes be blessed made, By looking on thee in the living day, When in dead night thy fair imperfect shade, Through heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay! All days are nights to see till I see thee, And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me This told, I joy, but then no longer glad, I send them back again and straight grow sad 46 Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war, How to divide the conquest of thy sight, Mine eye, my heart thy picture's sight would bar, My heart, mine eye the freedom of that right, My heart doth plead that thou in him dost lie, (A closet never pierced with crystal eyes) But the defendant doth that plea deny, And says in him thy fair appearance lies To side this title is impanelled A quest of thoughts, all tenants to the heart, And by their verdict is determined The clear eye's moiety, and the dear heart's part As thus, mine eye's due is thy outward part, And my heart's right, thy inward love of heart 47 Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took, And each doth good turns now unto the other, When that mine eye is famished for a look, Or heart in love with sighs himself doth smother; With my love's picture then my eye doth feast, And to the painted banquet bids my heart Another time mine eye is my heart's guest, And in his thoughts of love doth share a part 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 Or if they sleep, thy picture in my sight Awakes my heart, to heart's and eye's delight The bloody spur cannot provoke him on, That sometimes anger thrusts into his hide, Which heavily he answers with a groan, More sharp to me than spurring to his side, For that same groan doth put this in my mind, My grief lies onward and my joy behind O what excuse will my poor beast then find, When swift extremity can seem but slow? Then should I spur though mounted on the wind, In winged speed no motion shall I know, Then can no horse with my desire keep pace, Therefore desire (of perfect'st love being made) Shall neigh (no dull flesh) in his fiery race, But love, for love, thus shall excuse my jade, Since from thee going, he went wilful-slow, Towards thee I'll run, and give him leave to go 53 What is your substance, whereof are you made, That millions of strange shadows on you tend? Since every one, hath every one, one shade, And you but one, can every shadow lend Describe Adonis and the counterfeit, Is poorly imitated after you, On Helen's cheek all art of beauty set, And you in Grecian tires are painted new Speak of the spring, and foison of the year, The one doth shadow of your beauty show, The other as your bounty doth appear, And you in every blessed shape we know So till the judgment that your self arise, You live in this, and dwell in lovers' eyes Nativity once in the main of light, Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crowned, Crooked eclipses 'gainst his glory fight, And Time that gave, doth now his gift confound Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth, And delves the parallels in beauty's brow, Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth, And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow And yet to times in hope, my verse shall stand Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand His beauty shall in these black lines be seen, And they shall live, and he in them still green 64 When I have seen by Time's fell hand defaced The rich-proud cost of outworn buried age, When sometime lofty towers I see down-rased, And brass eternal slave to mortal rage 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 When I have seen such interchange of State, Or state it self confounded, to decay, Ruin hath taught me thus to ruminate That Time will come and take my love away 66 Tired with all these for restful death I cry, As to behold desert a beggar born, And needy nothing trimmed in jollity, And purest faith unhappily forsworn, And gilded honour shamefully misplaced, And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted, And right perfection wrongfully disgraced, And strength by limping sway disabled And art made tongue-tied by authority, And folly (doctor-like) controlling skill, And simple truth miscalled simplicity, And captive good attending captain ill So thou be good, slander doth but approve, Thy worth the greater being wooed of time, For canker vice the sweetest buds doth love, And thou present'st a pure unstained prime O lest your true love may seem false in this, That you for love speak well of me untrue, My name be buried where my body is, And live no more to shame nor me, nor you For I am shamed by that which I bring forth, And so should you, to love things nothing worth 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 75 So are you to my thoughts as food to life, Or as sweet-seasoned showers are to the ground; And for the peace of you I hold such strife As 'twixt a miser and his wealth is found 76 Why is my verse so barren of new pride? So far from variation or quick change? Why with the time do I not glance aside To new-found methods, and to compounds strange? Why write I still all one, ever the same, And keep invention in a noted weed, That every word doth almost tell my name, Showing their birth, and where they did proceed? O know sweet love I always write of you, And you and love are still my argument 77 Thy glass will show thee how thy beauties wear, Thy dial how thy precious minutes waste, These vacant leaves thy mind's imprint will bear, And of this book, this learning mayst thou taste 78 So oft have I invoked thee for my muse, And found such fair assistance in my verse, As every alien pen hath got my use, And under thee their poesy disperse Thine eyes, that taught the dumb on high to sing, And heavy ignorance aloft to fly, Have added feathers to the learned's wing, And given grace a double majesty 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 79 Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid, My verse alone had all thy gentle grace, But now my gracious numbers are decayed, And my sick muse doth give an other place I grant (sweet love) thy lovely argument Deserves the travail of a worthier pen, Yet what of thee thy poet doth invent, He robs thee of, and pays it thee again, He lends thee virtue, and he stole that word, From thy behaviour, beauty doth he give And found it in thy cheek Your shallowest help will hold me up afloat, Whilst he upon your soundless deep doth ride, Or (being wrecked) I am a worthless boat, He of tall building, and of goodly pride This silence for my sin you did impute, Which shall be most my glory being dumb, For I impair not beauty being mute, When others would give life, and bring a tomb 85 My tongue-tied muse in manners holds her still, While comments of your praise richly compiled, Reserve their character with golden quill, And precious phrase by all the Muses filed For how do I hold thee but by thy granting, And for that riches where is my deserving? The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting, And so my patent back again is swerving 88 When thou shalt be disposed to set me light, And place my merit in the eye of scorn, Upon thy side, against my self I'll fight, And prove thee virtuous, though thou art forsworn 89 Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault, And I will comment upon that offence, Speak of my lameness, and I straight will halt Thou canst not (love) disgrace me half so ill, To set a form upon desired change, As I'll my self disgrace, knowing thy will, I will acquaintance strangle and look strange 90 Then hate me when thou wilt, if ever, now, Now while the world is bent my deeds to cross, join with the spite of fortune, make me bow, And do not drop in for an after-loss Thy love is better than high birth to me, Richer than wealth, prouder than garments' costs, Of more delight than hawks and horses be Wretched in this alone, that thou mayst take, All this away, and me most wretchcd make Thou canst not vex me with inconstant mind, Since that my life on thy revolt doth lie, O what a happy title do I find, Happy to have thy love, happy to die! But what's so blessed-fair that fears no blot? Thou mayst be false, and yet I know it not For there can live no hatred in thine eye, Therefore in that I cannot know thy change, In many's looks, the false heart's history Is writ in moods and frowns and wrinkles strange 94 They that have power to hurt, and will do none, That do not do the thing, they most do show, Who moving others, are themselves as stone, Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow 96 Some say thy fault is youth, some wantonness, Some say thy grace is youth and gentle sport, Both grace and faults are loved of more and less So are those errors that in thee are seen, To truths translated, and for true things deemed Yet this abundant issue seemed to me But hope of orphans, and unfathered fruit, For summer and his pleasures wait on thee, And thou away, the very birds are mute 100 Where art thou Muse that thou forget'st so long, To speak of that which gives thee all thy might? Spend'st thou thy fury on some worthless song, Darkening thy power to lend base subjects light? Return forgetful Muse, and straight redeem, In gentle numbers time so idly spent, Sing to the ear that doth thy lays esteem, And gives thy pen both skill and argument Rise resty Muse, my love's sweet face survey, If time have any wrinkle graven there, If any, be a satire to decay, And make time's spoils despised everywhere Give my love fame faster than Time wastes life, So thou prevent'st his scythe, and crooked knife 101 O truant Muse what shall be thy amends, For thy neglect of truth in beauty dyed? Both truth and beauty on my love depends Our love was new, and then but in the spring, When I was wont to greet it with my lays, As Philomel in summer's front doth sing, And stops her pipe in growth of riper days Not that the summer is less pleasant now Than when her mournful hymns did hush the night, But that wild music burthens every bough, And sweets grown common lose their dear delight O blame me not if I no more can write! Look in your glass and there appears a face, That over-goes my blunt invention quite, Dulling my lines, and doing me disgrace Were it not sinful then striving to mend, To mar the subject that before was well? For to no other pass my verses tend, Than of your graces and your gifts to tell Ah yet doth beauty like a dial hand, Steal from his figure, and no pace perceived, So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand Hath motion, and mine eye may be deceived 105 Let not my love be called idolatry, Nor my beloved as an idol show, Since all alike my songs and praises be To one, of one, still such, and ever so The mortal moon hath her eclipse endured, And the sad augurs mock their own presage, Incertainties now crown themselves assured, And peace proclaims olives of endless age Now with the drops of this most balmy time, My love looks fresh, and death to me subscribes, Since spite of him I'll live in this poor rhyme, While he insults o'er dull and speechless tribes And thou in this shalt find thy monument, When tyrants' crests and tombs of brass are spent So that eternal love in love's fresh case, Weighs not the dust and injury of age, Nor gives to necessary wrinkles place, But makes antiquity for aye his page, Finding the first conceit of love there bred, Where time and outward form would show it dead but by all above, These blenches gave my heart another youth, And worse essays proved thee my best of love Then give me welcome, next my heaven the best, Even to thy pure and most most loving breast Thence comes it that my name receives a brand, And almost thence my nature is subdued To what it works in, like the dyer's hand In so profound abysm I throw all care Of others' voices, that my adder's sense, To critic and to flatterer stopped are O 'tis the first, 'tis flattery in my seeing, And my great mind most kingly drinks it up, Mine eye well knows what with his gust is 'greeing, And to his palate doth prepare the cup O that our night of woe might have remembered My deepest sense, how hard true sorrow hits, And soon to you, as you to me then tendered The humble salve, which wounded bosoms fits! But that your trespass now becomes a fee, Mine ransoms yours, and yours must ransom me For why should others' false adulterate eyes Give salutation to my sportive blood? Or on my frailties why are frailer spies, Which in their wills count bad what I think good? No, I am that I am, and they that level At my abuses, reckon up their own, I may be straight though they themselves be bevel; By their rank thoughts, my deeds must not be shown Unless this general evil they maintain, All men are bad and in their badness reign Hence, thou suborned informer, a true soul When most impeached, stands least in thy control If Nature (sovereign mistress over wrack) As thou goest onwards still will pluck thee back, She keeps thee to this purpose, that her skill May time disgrace, and wretched minutes kill Yet fear her O thou minion of her pleasure, She may detain, but not still keep her treasure! Her audit (though delayed) answered must be, And her quietus is to render thee 128 How oft when thou, my music, music play'st, Upon that blessed wood whose motion sounds With thy sweet fingers when thou gently sway'st The wiry concord that mine ear confounds, Do I envy those jacks that nimble leap, To kiss the tender inward of thy hand, Whilst my poor lips which should that harvest reap, At the wood's boldness by thee blushing stand 131 Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art, As those whose beauties proudly make them cruel; For well thou know'st to my dear doting heart Thou art the fairest and most precious jewel In nothing art thou black save in thy deeds, And thence this slander as I think proceeds O let it then as well beseem thy heart To mourn for me since mourning doth thee grace, And suit thy pity like in every part Him have I lost, thou hast both him and me, He pays the whole, and yet am I not free Make but my name thy love, and love that still, And then thou lov'st me for my name is Will If eyes corrupt by over-partial looks, Be anchored in the bay where all men ride, Why of eyes' falsehood hast thou forged hooks, Whereto the judgment of my heart is tied? Why should my heart think that a several plot, Which my heart knows the wide world's common place? Or mine eyes seeing this, say this is not To put fair truth upon so foul a face? In things right true my heart and eyes have erred, And to this false plague are they now transferred But wherefore says she not she is unjust? And wherefore say not I that I am old? O love's best habit is in seeming trust, And age in love, loves not to have years told Yet do not so, but since I am near slain, Kill me outright with looks, and rid my pain For if I should despair I should grow mad, And in my madness might speak ill of thee, Now this ill-wresting world is grown so bad, Mad slanderers by mad ears believed be But my five wits, nor my five senses can Dissuade one foolish heart from serving thee, Who leaves unswayed the likeness of a man, Thy proud heart's slave and vassal wretch to be So will I pray that thou mayst have thy Will, If thou turn back and my loud crying still To win me soon to hell my female evil, Tempteth my better angel from my side, And would corrupt my saint to be a devil 146 Poor soul the centre of my sinful earth, My sinful earth these rebel powers array, Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth Painting thy outward walls so costly gay? Why so large cost having so short a lease, Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend? Shall worms inheritors of this excess Eat up thy charge? is this thy body's end? Then soul live thou upon thy servant's loss, And let that pine to aggravate thy store; Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross; Within be fed, without be rich no more, So shall thou feed on death, that feeds on men, And death once dead, there's no more dying then Past cure I am, now reason is past care, And frantic-mad with evermore unrest, My thoughts and my discourse as mad men's are, At random from the truth vainly expressed 149 Canst thou O cruel, say I love thee not, When I against my self with thee partake? Do I not think on thee when I forgot Am of my self, all-tyrant, for thy sake? Who hateth thee that I do call my friend, On whom frown'st thou that I do fawn upon, Nay if thou lour'st on me do I not spend Revenge upon my self with present moan? What merit do I in my self respect, That is so proud thy service to despise, When all my best doth worship thy defect, Commanded by the motion of thine eyes? But love hate on for now I know thy mind, Those that can see thou lov'st, and I am blind For thou betraying me, I do betray My nobler part to my gross body's treason, My soul doth tell my body that he may, Triumph in love, flesh stays no farther reason, But rising at thy name doth point out thee, As his triumphant prize, proud of this pride, He is contented thy poor drudge to be, To stand in thy affairs, fall by thy side No want of conscience hold it that I call, Her love, for whose dear love I rise and fall But at my mistress' eye Love's brand new-fired, The boy for trial needs would touch my breast, I sick withal the help of bath desired, And thither hied a sad distempered guest 154 The little Love-god lying once asleep, Laid by his side his heart-inflaming brand, Whilst many nymphs that vowed chaste life to keep, Came tripping by, but in her maiden hand, The fairest votary took up that fire, Which many legions of true hearts had warmed, And so the general of hot desire, Was sleeping by a virgin hand disarmed DIANA, daughter to the Widow VIOLENTA, neighbour and friend to the Widow MARIANA, neighbour and friend to the Widow Lords, Officers, Soldiers, etc., French and Florentine This young gentlewoman had a father- O, that 'had,' how sad a passage 'tis!-whose skill was almost as great as his honesty; had it stretch'd so far, would have made nature immortal, and death should have play for lack of work In her they are the better for their simpleness; she derives her honesty, and achieves her goodness The best wishes that can be forg'd in your thoughts be servants to you! [To HELENA] Be comfortable to my mother, your mistress, and make much of her 'Twere all one That I should love a bright particular star And think to wed it, he is so above me 'Twas pretty, though a plague, To see him every hour; to sit and draw His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls, In our heart's table-heart too capable Of every line and trick of his sweet favour Within ten year it will make itself ten, which is a goodly increase; and the principal itself not much the worse but the composition that your valour and fear makes in you is a virtue of a good wing, and I like the wear well What power is it which mounts my love so high, That makes me see, and cannot feed mine eye? The mightiest space in fortune nature brings To join like likes, and kiss like native things Who ever strove To show her merit that did miss her love? The King's disease-my project may deceive me, But my intents are fix'd, and will not leave me He hath arm'd our answer, And Florence is denied before he comes; Yet, for our gentlemen that mean to see The Tuscan service, freely have they leave To stand on either part So like a courtier, contempt nor bitterness Were in his pride or sharpness; if they were, His equal had awak'd them; and his honour, Clock to itself, knew the true minute when Exception bid him speak, and at this time His tongue obey'd his hand The complaints I have heard of you I do not all believe; 'tis my slowness that I do not, for I know you lack not folly to commit them and have ability enough to make such knaveries yours No, madam, 'tis not so well that I am poor, though many of the rich are damn'd; but if I may have your ladyship's good will to go to the world, Isbel the woman and I will do as we may I have been, madam, a wicked creature, as you and all flesh and blood are; and, indeed, I do marry that I may repent [Sings] 'Was this fair face the cause' quoth she 'Why the Grecians sacked Troy? Fond done, done fond, Was this King Priam's joy?' With that she sighed as she stood, With that she sighed as she stood, And gave this sentence then I know I love in vain, strive against hope; Yet in this captious and intenible sieve I still pour in the waters of my love, And lack not to lose still And you, my lords, farewell; Share the advice betwixt you; if both gain all, The gift doth stretch itself as 'tis receiv'd, And is enough for both 'Tis our hope, sir, After well-ent'red soldiers, to return And find your Grace in health I would you had kneel'd, my lord, to ask me mercy; And that at my bidding you could so stand up I have seen a medicine That's able to breathe life into a stone, Quicken a rock, and make you dance canary With spritely fire and motion; whose simple touch Is powerful to araise King Pepin, nay, To give great Charlemain a pen in's hand And write to her a love-line Oft expectation fails, and most oft there Where most it promises; and oft it hits Where hope is coldest, and despair most fits Ere twice the horses of the sun shall bring Their fiery torcher his diurnal ring, Ere twice in murk and occidental damp Moist Hesperus hath quench'd his sleepy lamp, Or four and twenty times the pilot's glass Hath told the thievish minutes how they pass, What is infirm from your sound parts shall fly, Health shall live free, and sickness freely die If I break time, or flinch in property Of what I spoke, unpitied let me die; And well deserv'd give Helen this, And urge her to a present answer back; Commend me to my kinsmen and my son I'd give bay Curtal and his furniture My mouth no more were broken than these boys', And writ as little beard She is young, wise, fair; In these to nature she's immediate heir; And these breed honour That is honour's scorn Which challenges itself as honour's born And is not like the sire Good fortune and the favour of the King Smile upon this contract; whose ceremony Shall seem expedient on the now-born brief, And be perform'd to-night I'll have no more pity of his age than I would have of- I'll beat him, and if I could but meet him again Why dost thou garter up thy arms o' this fashion? Dost make hose of thy sleeves? Do other servants so? Thou wert best set thy lower part where thy nose stands Go to, sir; you were beaten in Italy for picking a kernel out of a pomegranate; you are a vagabond, and no true traveller; you are more saucy with lords and honourable personages than the commission of your birth and virtue gives you heraldry But thanks be given, she's very well, and wants nothing i' th' world; but yet she is not well The great prerogative and rite of love, Which, as your due, time claims, he does acknowledge; But puts it off to a compell'd restraint; Whose want, and whose delay, is strew'd with sweets, Which they distil now in the curbed time, To make the coming hour o'erflow with joy And pleasure drown the brim 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 there can be no kernal in this light nut; the soul of this man is his clothes; trust him not in matter of heavy consequence; I have kept of them tame, and know their natures So that, from point to point, now have you hear The fundamental reasons of this war; Whose great decision hath much blood let forth And more thirsts after Why, he will look upon his boot and sing; mend the ruff and sing; ask questions and sing; pick his teeth and sing The brains of my Cupid's knock'd out; and I begin to love, as an old man loves money, with no stomach Nothing in France until he have no wife! There's nothing here that is too good for him But only she; and she deserves a lord That twenty such rude boys might tend upon, And call her hourly mistress Shall I stay here to do 't? No, no, although The air of paradise did fan the house, And angels offic'd all His taken labours bid him me forgive; I, his despiteful Juno, sent him forth From courtly friends, with camping foes to live, Where death and danger dogs the heels of worth My heart is heavy, and mine age is weak; Grief would have tears, and sorrow bids me speak It is reported that he has taken their great'st commander; and that with his own hand he slew the Duke's brother O, for the love of laughter, hinder not the honour of his design; let him fetch off his drum in any hand That was not to be blam'd in the command of the service; it was a disaster of war that Caesar himself could not have prevented, if he had been there to command If you think your mystery in stratagem can bring this instrument of honour again into his native quarter, be magnanimous in the enterprise, and go on; I will grace the attempt for a worthy exploit Is not this a strange fellow, my lord, that so confidently seems to undertake this business, which he knows is not to be done; damns himself to do, and dares better be damn'd than to do 't I spoke with her but once, And found her wondrous cold; but I sent to her, By this same coxcomb that we have i' th' wind, Tokens and letters which she did re-send; And this is all I have done Why then to-night Let us assay our plot; which, if it speed, Is wicked meaning in a lawful deed, And lawful meaning in a lawful act; Where both not sin, and yet a sinful fact But couch, ho! here he comes; to beguile two hours in a sleep, and then to return and swear the lies he forges 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 Here, take my ring; My house, mine honour, yea, my life, be thine, And I'll be bid by thee He has much worthy blame laid upon him for shaking off so good a wife and so sweet a lady He hath given her his monumental ring, and thinks himself made in the unchaste composition Her pretence is a pilgrimage to Saint Jaques le Grand; which holy undertaking with most austere sanctimony she accomplish'd; and, there residing, the tenderness of her nature became as a prey to her grief; in fine, made a groan of her last breath, and now she sings in heaven The troops are all scattered, and the commanders very poor rogues, upon my reputation and credit, and as I hope to live The Duke knows him for no other but a poor officer of mine; and writ to me this other day to turn him out o' th' band He will steal, sir, an egg out of a cloister; for rapes and ravishments he parallels Nessus Drunkenness is his best virtue, for he will be swine-drunk; and in his sleep he does little harm, save to his bedclothes about him; but they know his conditions and lay him in straw For this description of thine honesty? A pox upon him! For me, he's more and more a cat Sir, for a cardecue he will sell the fee-simple of his salvation, the inheritance of it; and cut th' entail from all remainders and a perpetual succession for it perpetually Doubt not but heaven Hath brought me up to be your daughter's dower, As it hath fated her to be my motive And helper to a husband But with the word the time will bring on summer, When briers shall have leaves as well as thorns And be as sweet as sharp No, no, no, son was misled with a snipt-taffeta fellow there, whose villainous saffron would have made all the unbak'd and doughy youth of a nation in his colour I am a woodland fellow, sir, that always loved a great fire; and the master I speak of ever keeps a good fire Faith, there's a dozen of 'em, with delicate fine hats, and most courteous feathers, which bow the head and nod at every man 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 'Tis past, my liege; And I beseech your Majesty to make it Natural rebellion, done i' th' blaze of youth, When oil and fire, too strong for reason's force, O'erbears it and burns on My honour'd lady, I have forgiven and forgotten all; Though my revenges were high bent upon him And watch'd the time to shoot I am her mother, sir, whose age and honour Both suffer under this complaint we bring, And both shall cease, without your remedy [To BERTRAM] Your reputation comes too short for my daughter; you are no husband for her Of six preceding ancestors, that gem Conferr'd by testament to th' sequent issue, Hath it been ow'd and worn I pray you yet- Since you lack virtue, I will lose a husband- Send for your ring, I will return it home, And give me mine again Stay, royal sir; Exit WIDOW The jeweller that owes the ring is sent for, And he shall surety me No, my good lord; 'Tis but the shadow of a wife you see, The name and not the thing Ours be your patience then, and yours our parts; Your gentle hands lend us, and take our hearts AEMILIUS LEPIDUS, " SEXTUS POMPEIUS, " DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS, friend to Antony VENTIDIUS, " " " EROS, " " " SCARUS, " " " DERCETAS, " " " DEMETRIUS, " " " PHILO, " " " MAECENAS, friend to Caesar AGRIPPA, " " " DOLABELLA, " " " PROCULEIUS, " " " THYREUS, " " " GALLUS, " " " MENAS, friend to Pompey MENECRATES, " " " VARRIUS, " " " TAURUS, Lieutenant-General to Caesar CANIDIUS, Lieutenant-General to Antony SILIUS, an Officer in Ventidius's army EUPHRONIUS, an Ambassador from Antony to Caesar ALEXAS, attendant on Cleopatra MARDIAN, " " " SELEUCUS, " " " DIOMEDES, " " " A SOOTHSAYER A CLOWN CLEOPATRA, Queen of Egypt OCTAVIA, sister to Caesar and wife to Antony CHARMIAN, lady attending on Cleopatra IRAS, " " " " Officers, Soldiers, Messengers, and Attendants Fulvia perchance is angry; or who knows If the scarce-bearded Caesar have not sent His pow'rful mandate to you The nobleness of life Is to do thus [emhracing], when such a mutual pair And such a twain can do't, in which I bind, On pain of punishment, the world to weet We stand up peerless Fie, wrangling queen! Whom everything becomes- to chide, to laugh, To weep; whose every passion fully strives To make itself in thee fair and admir'd Good now, some excellent fortune! Let me be married to three kings in a forenoon, and widow them all If there were no more women but Fulvia, then had you indeed a cut, and the case to be lamented Much is breeding Which, like the courser's hair, hath yet but life And not a serpent's poison Our separation so abides and flies That thou, residing here, goes yet with me, And I, hence fleeting, here remain with thee If he fill'd His vacancy with his voluptuousness, Full surfeits and the dryness of his bones Call on him for't! But to confound such time That drums him from his sport and speaks as loud As his own state and ours- 'tis to be chid As we rate boys who, being mature in knowledge, Pawn their experience to their present pleasure, And so rebel to judgment Many hot inroads They make in Italy; the borders maritime Lack blood to think on't, and flush youth revolt O Charmian, Where think'st thou he is now? Stands he or sits he? Or does he walk? or is he on his horse? O happy horse, to bear the weight of Antony! Do bravely, horse; for wot'st thou whom thou mov'st? The demi-Atlas of this earth, the arm And burgonet of men Like to the time o' th' year between the extremes Of hot and cold; he was nor sad nor merry Be't as our gods will have't! It only stands Our lives upon to use our strongest hands Good Enobarbus, 'tis a worthy deed, And shall become you well, to entreat your captain To soft and gentle speech May I never To this good purpose, that so fairly shows, Dream of impediment! Let me have thy hand On each side her Stood pretty dimpled boys, like smiling Cupids, With divers-colour'd fans, whose wind did seem To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool, And what they undid did Her gentlewomen, like the Nereides, So many mermaids, tended her i' th' eyes, And made their bends adornings The city cast Her people out upon her; and Antony, Enthron'd i' th' market-place, did sit alone, Whistling to th' air; which, but for vacancy, Had gone to gaze on Cleopatra too, And made a gap in nature I saw her once Hop forty paces through the public street; And, having lost her breath, she spoke, and panted, That she did make defect perfection, And, breathless, pow'r breathe forth Antony's dead! If thou say so, villain, Thou kill'st thy mistress; but well and free, If thou so yield him, there is gold, and here My bluest veins to kiss- a hand that kings Have lipp'd, and trembled kissing Prithee, friend, Pour out the pack of matter to mine ear, The good and bad together [Aside] Thy father, Pompey, would ne'er have made this treaty.- You and I have known, sir I Will praise any man that will praise me; though it cannot be denied what I have done by land The higher Nilus swells The more it promises; as it ebbs, the seedsman Upon the slime and ooze scatters his grain, And shortly comes to harvest [Aside to POMPEY] Forsake thy seat, I do beseech thee, Captain, And hear me speak a word Come, let's all take hands, Till that the conquering wine hath steep'd our sense In soft and delicate Lethe So thy grand captain, Antony, Shall set thee on triumphant chariots and Put garlands on thy head Her tongue will not obey her heart, nor can Her heart inform her tongue- the swan's down feather, That stands upon the swell at the full of tide, And neither way inclines Madam, in Rome I look'd her in the face, and saw her led Between her brother and Mark Antony Great Media, Parthia, and Armenia, He gave to Alexander; to Ptolemy he assign'd Syria, Cilicia, and Phoenicia I have told him Lepidus was grown too cruel, That he his high authority abus'd, And did deserve his change For what I have conquer'd I grant him part; but then, in his Armenia And other of his conquer'd kingdoms, Demand the like Your letters did withhold our breaking forth, Till we perceiv'd both how you were wrong led And we in negligent danger You are abus'd Beyond the mark of thought, and the high gods, To do you justice, make their ministers Of us and those that love you If we should serve with horse and mares together The horse were merely lost; the mares would bear A soldier and his horse But these offers, Which serve not for his vantage, he shakes off; And so should you Canidius, Our nineteen legions thou shalt hold by land, And our twelve thousand horse Do you misdoubt This sword and these my wounds? Let th' Egyptians And the Phoenicians go a-ducking; we Have us'd to conquer standing on the earth And fighting foot to foot Marcus Octavius, Marcus Justeius, Publicola, and Caelius are for sea; But we keep whole by land Set we our squadrons on yon side o' th' hill, In eye of Caesar's battle; from which place We may the number of the ships behold, And so proceed accordingly The greater cantle of the world is lost With very ignorance; we have kiss'd away Kingdoms and provinces Yon ribaudred nag of Egypt- Whom leprosy o'ertake!- i' th' midst o' th' fight, When vantage like a pair of twins appear'd, Both as the same, or rather ours the elder- The breese upon her, like a cow in June- Hoists sails and flies My very hairs do mutiny; for the white Reprove the brown for rashness, and they them For fear and doting Egypt, thou knew'st too well My heart was to thy rudder tied by th' strings, And thou shouldst tow me after O'er my spirit Thy full supremacy thou knew'st, and that Thy beck might from the bidding of the gods Command me Now I must To the young man send humble treaties, dodge And palter in the shifts of lowness, who With half the bulk o' th' world play'd as I pleas'd, Making and marring fortunes I was of late as petty to his ends As is the morn-dew on the myrtle leaf To his grand sea 'Twas a shame no less Than was his loss, to course your flying flags And leave his navy gazing His coin, ships, legions, May be a coward's whose ministers would prevail Under the service of a child as soon As i' th' command of Caesar Yet he that can endure To follow with allegiance a fall'n lord Does conquer him that did his master conquer, And earns a place i' th' story But it would warm his spirits To hear from me you had left Antony, And put yourself under his shroud, The universal landlord One that but performs The bidding of the fullest man, and worthiest To have command obey'd Were't twenty of the greatest tributaries That do acknowledge Caesar, should I find them So saucy with the hand of she here- what's her name Since she was Cleopatra? Whip him, fellows, Till like a boy you see him cringe his face, And whine aloud for mercy Our force by land Hath nobly held; our sever'd navy to Have knit again, and fleet, threat'ning most sea-like For when mine hours Were nice and lucky, men did ransom lives Of me for jests; but now I'll set my teeth, And send to darkness all that stop me See it done; And feast the army; we have store to do't, And they have earn'd the waste Scant not my cups, and make as much of me As when mine empire was your fellow too, And suffer'd my command What mean you, sir, To give them this discomfort? Look, they weep; And I, an ass, am onion-ey'd Know, my hearts, I hope well of to-morrow, and will lead you Where rather I'll expect victorious life Than death and honour And if to-morrow Our navy thrive, I have an absolute hope Our landmen will stand up A thousand, sir, Early though't be, have on their riveted trim, And at the port expect you Alexas did revolt and went to Jewry on Affairs of Antony; there did dissuade Great Herod to incline himself to Caesar And leave his master Antony Throw my heart Against the flint and hardness of my fault, Which, being dried with grief, will break to powder, And finish all foul thoughts But this it is, our foot Upon the hills adjoining to the city Shall stay with us- Order for sea is given; They have put forth the haven- Where their appointment we may best discover And look on their endeavour The augurers Say they know not, they cannot tell; look grimly, And dare not speak their knowledge Antony Is valiant and dejected; and by starts His fretted fortunes give him hope and fear Of what he has and has not Exit SCARUS O sun, thy uprise shall I see no more! Fortune and Antony part here; even here Do we shake hands To th' monument! Mardian, go tell him I have slain myself; Say that the last I spoke was 'Antony' And word it, prithee, piteously 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 The last she spake Was 'Antony! most noble Antony!' Then in the midst a tearing groan did break The name of Antony; it was divided Between her heart and lips 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 Thrice nobler than myself! Thou teachest me, O valiant Eros, what I should, and thou couldst not Bear me, good friends, where Cleopatra bides; 'Tis the last service that I shall command you Had I great Juno's power, The strong-wing'd Mercury should fetch thee up, And set thee by Jove's side O come, come, [They heave ANTONY aloft to CLEOPATRA] And welcome, welcome! Die where thou hast liv'd No more but e'en a woman, and commanded By such poor passion as the maid that milks And does the meanest chares We'll bury him; and then, what's brave, what's noble, Let's do it after the high Roman fashion, And make death proud to take us The round world Should have shook lions into civil streets, And citizens to their dens Not being Fortune, he's but Fortune's knave, A minister of her will; and it is great To do that thing that ends all other deeds, Which shackles accidents and bolts up change, Which sleeps, and never palates more the dug, The beggar's nurse and Caesar's Here PROCULEIUS and two of the guard ascend the monument by a ladder placed against a window, and come behind CLEOPATRA See, Caesar! O, behold, How pomp is followed! Mine will now be yours; And, should we shift estates, yours would be mine Mechanic slaves, With greasy aprons, rules, and hammers, shall Uplift us to the view; in their thick breaths, Rank of gross diet, shall we be enclouded, And forc'd to drink their vapour IRAS falls and dies] Have I the aspic in my lips? Dost fall? If thus thou and nature can so gently part, The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch, Which hurts and is desir'd DUKE, living in exile FREDERICK, his brother, and usurper of his dominions AMIENS, lord attending on the banished Duke JAQUES, " " " " " " LE BEAU, a courtier attending upon Frederick CHARLES, wrestler to Frederick OLIVER, son of Sir Rowland de Boys JAQUES, " " " " " " ORLANDO, " " " " " " ADAM, servant to Oliver DENNIS, " " " TOUCHSTONE, the court jester SIR OLIVER MARTEXT, a vicar CORIN, shepherd SILVIUS, " WILLIAM, a country fellow, in love with Audrey A person representing HYMEN ROSALIND, daughter to the banished Duke CELIA, daughter to Frederick PHEBE, a shepherdes AUDREY, a country wench Lords, Pages, Foresters, and Attendants Is it even so? Begin you to grow upon me? I will physic your rankness, and yet give no thousand crowns neither There's no news at the court, sir, but the old news; that is, the old Duke is banished by his younger brother the new Duke; and three or four loving lords have put themselves into voluntary exile with him, whose lands and revenues enrich the new Duke; therefore he gives them good leave to wander She is at the court, and no less beloved of her uncle than his own daughter; and never two ladies loved as they do They say he is already in the Forest of Arden, and a many merry men with him; and there they live like the old Robin Hood of England They say many young gentlemen flock to him every day, and fleet the time carelessly, as they did in the golden world Your brother is but young and tender; and, for your love, I would be loath to foil him, as I must, for my own honour, if he come in; therefore, out of my love to you, I came hither to acquaint you withal, that either you might stay him from his intendment, or brook such disgrace well as he shall run into, in that it is thing of his own search and altogether against my will I'll tell thee, Charles, it is the stubbornest young fellow of France; full of ambition, an envious emulator of every man's good parts, a secret and villainous contriver against me his natural brother And thou wert best look to't; for if thou dost him any slight disgrace, or if he do not mightily grace himself on thee, he will practise against thee by poison, entrap thee by some treacherous device, and never leave thee till he hath ta'en thy life by some indirect means or other; for, I assure thee, and almost with tears I speak it, there is not one so young and so villainous this day living I speak but brotherly of him; but should I anatomize him to thee as he is, I must blush and weep, and thou must look pale and wonder Of a certain knight that swore by his honour they were good pancakes, and swore by his honour the mustard was naught Now I'll stand to it, the pancakes were naught and the mustard was good, and yet was not the knight forsworn You must, if you stay here; for here is the place appointed for the wrestling, and they are ready to perform it Come, where is this young gallant that is so desirous to lie with his mother earth? ORLANDO Gentleman, [Giving him a chain from her neck] Wear this for me; one out of suits with fortune, That could give more, but that her hand lacks means Then there were two cousins laid up, when the one should be lam'd with reasons and the other mad without any Doth it therefore ensue that you should love his son dearly? By this kind of chase I should hate him, for my father hated his father dearly; yet I hate not Orlando we still have slept together, Rose at an instant, learn'd, play'd, eat together; And wheresoe'er we went, like Juno's swans, Still we went coupled and inseparable She is too subtle for thee; and her smoothness, Her very silence and her patience, Speak to the people, and they pity her No, hath not? Rosalind lacks, then, the love Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one I'll put myself in poor and mean attire, And with a kind of umber smirch my face; The like do you; so shall we pass along, And never stir assailants I'll have no worse a name than Jove's own page, And therefore look you call me Ganymede Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile, Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court? Here feel we not the penalty of Adam, The seasons' difference; as the icy fang And churlish chiding of the winter's wind, Which when it bites and blows upon my body, Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say 'This is no flattery; these are counsellors That feelingly persuade me what I am.' Sweet are the uses of adversity, Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, Wears yet a precious jewel in his head; And this our life, exempt from public haunt, Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in stones, and good in everything Happy is your Grace, That can translate the stubbornness of fortune Into so quiet and so sweet a style 'Poor deer,' quoth he 'thou mak'st a testament As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more To that which had too much.' Then, being there alone, Left and abandoned of his velvet friends ''Tis right'; quoth he 'thus misery doth part The flux of company.' Anon, a careless herd, Full of the pasture, jumps along by him And never stays to greet him Wherefore do you look Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there?' Thus most invectively he pierceth through The body of the country, city, court, Yea, and of this our life; swearing that we Are mere usurpers, tyrants, and what's worse, To fright the animals, and to kill them up In their assign'd and native dwelling-place Can it be possible that no man saw them? It cannot be; some villains of my court Are of consent and sufferance in this Your brother- no, no brother; yet the son- Yet not the son; I will not call him son Of him I was about to call his father- Hath heard your praises; and this night he means To burn the lodging where you use to lie, And you within it If he fail of that, He will have other means to cut you off; I overheard him and his practices I have five hundred crowns, The thrifty hire I sav'd under your father, Which I did store to be my foster-nurse, When service should in my old limbs lie lame, And unregarded age in corners thrown Let me go with you; I'll do the service of a younger man In all your business and necessities But, poor old man, thou prun'st a rotten tree That cannot so much as a blossom yield In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry At seventeen years many their fortunes seek, But at fourscore it is too late a week; Yet fortune cannot recompense me better Than to die well and not my master's debtor I prithee, shepherd, if that love or gold Can in this desert place buy entertainment, Bring us where we may rest ourselves and feed Fair sir, I pity her, And wish, for her sake more than for mine own, My fortunes were more able to relieve her; But I am shepherd to another man, And do not shear the fleeces that I graze Besides, his cote, his flocks, and bounds of feed, Are now on sale; and at our sheepcote now, By reason of his absence, there is nothing That you will feed on; but what is, come see, And in my voice most welcome shall you be I pray thee, if it stand with honesty, Buy thou the cottage, pasture, and the flock, And thou shalt have to pay for it of us 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 Well then, if ever I thank any man, I'll thank you; but that they call compliment is like th' encounter of two dog-apes; and when a man thanks me heartily, methinks have given him a penny, and he renders me the beggarly thanks A miserable world! As I do live by food, I met a fool, Who laid him down and bask'd him in the sun, And rail'd on Lady Fortune in good terms, In good set terms- and yet a motley fool He that a fool doth very wisely hit Doth very foolishly, although he smart, Not to seem senseless of the bob; if not, The wise man's folly is anatomiz'd Even by the squand'ring glances of the fool Art thou thus bolden'd, man, by thy distress? Or else a rude despiser of good manners, That in civility thou seem'st so empty? ORLANDO the thorny point Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show Of smooth civility; yet arn I inland bred, And know some nurture But forbear, I say; He dies that touches any of this fruit Till I and my affairs are answered Speak you so gently? Pardon me, I pray you; I thought that all things had been savage here, And therefore put I on the countenance Of stern commandment But whate'er you are That in this desert inaccessible, Under the shade of melancholy boughs, Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time; If ever you have look'd on better days, If ever been where bells have knoll'd to church, If ever sat at any good man's feast, If ever from your eyelids wip'd a tear, And know what 'tis to pity and be pitied, Let gentleness my strong enforcement be; In the which hope I blush, and hide my sword Then but forbear your food a little while, Whiles, like a doe, I go to find my fawn, And give it food And then the justice, In fair round belly with good capon lin'd, With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern instances; And so he plays his part The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side, His youthful hose, well sav'd, a world too wide For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound Well, push him out of doors; And let my officers of such a nature Make an extent upon his house and lands Why, if thou never wast at court thou never saw'st good manners; if thou never saw'st good manners, then thy manners must be wicked; and wickedness is sin, and sin is damnation Most shallow man! thou worm's meat in respect of a good piece of flesh indeed! Learn of the wise, and perpend I earn that I eat, get that I wear; owe no man hate, envy no man's happiness; glad of other men's good, content with my harm; and the greatest of my pride is to see my ewes graze and my lambs suck I'll rhyme you so eight years together, dinners, and suppers, and sleeping hours, excepted 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 young Orlando, that tripp'd up the wrestler's heels and your heart both in an instant Have you not been acquainted with goldsmiths' wives, and conn'd them out of rings? ORLANDO Will you sit down with me? and we two will rail against our mistress the world, and all our misery [Aside to CELIA] I will speak to him like a saucy lackey, and under that habit play the knave with him.- Do you hear, forester? ORLANDO With lawyers in the vacation; for they sleep between term and term, and then they perceive not how Time moves But, in good sooth, are you he that hangs the verses on the trees wherein Rosalind is so admired? ORLANDO I would cure you, if you would but call me Rosalind, and come every day to my cote and woo me But be it as it may be, I will marry thee; and to that end I have been with Sir Oliver Martext, the vicar of the next village, who hath promis'd to meet me in this place of the forest, and to couple us And will you, being a man of your breeding, be married under a bush, like a beggar? Get you to church and have a good priest that can tell you what marriage is; this fellow will but join you together as they join wainscot; then one of you will prove a shrunk panel, and like green timber warp, warp He asked me of what parentage I was; I told him, of as good as he; so he laugh'd and let me go 'Tis pretty, sure, and very probable, That eyes, that are the frail'st and softest things, Who shut their coward gates on atomies, Should be call'd tyrants, butchers, murderers! Now I do frown on thee with all my heart; And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee Silvius, the time was that I hated thee; And yet it is not that I bear thee love; But since that thou canst talk of love so well, Thy company, which erst was irksome to me, I will endure; and I'll employ thee too So holy and so perfect is my love, And I in such a poverty of grace, That I shall think it a most plenteous crop To glean the broken ears after the man That the main harvest reaps; loose now and then A scatt'red smile, and that I'll live upon It is a pretty youth- not very pretty; But, sure, he's proud; and yet his pride becomes him He is not very tall; yet for his years he's tall; His leg is but so-so; and yet 'tis well There was a pretty redness in his lip, A little riper and more lusty red Than that mix'd in his cheek; 'twas just the difference Betwixt the constant red and mingled damask There be some women, Silvius, had they mark'd him In parcels as I did, would have gone near To fall in love with him; but, for my part, I love him not, nor hate him not; and yet I have more cause to hate him than to love him; For what had he to do to chide at me? He said mine eyes were black, and my hair black, And, now I am rememb'red, scorn'd at me I'll write it straight; The matter's in my head and in my heart; I will be bitter with him and passing short I fear you have sold your own lands to see other men's; then to have seen much and to have nothing is to have rich eyes and poor hands Why, horns; which such as you are fain to be beholding to your wives for; but he comes armed in his fortune, and prevents the slander of his wife Troilus had his brains dash'd out with a Grecian club; yet he did what he could to die before, and he is one of the patterns of love Why then, can one desire too much of a good thing? Come, sister, you shall be the priest, and marry us There's a girl goes before the priest; and, certainly, a woman's thought runs before her actions O, that woman that cannot make her fault her husband's occasion, let her never nurse her child herself, for she will breed it like a fool! ORLANDO By my troth, and in good earnest, and so God mend me, and by all pretty oaths that are not dangerous, if you break one jot of your promise, or come one minute behind your hour, I will think you the most pathetical break-promise, and the most hollow lover, and the most unworthy of her you call Rosalind, that may be chosen out of the gross band of the unfaithful I warrant you, with pure love and troubled brain, he hath ta'en his bow and arrows, and is gone forth- to sleep I saw her hand; she has a leathern hand, A freestone-colour'd hand; I verily did think That her old gloves were on, but 'twas her hands; She has a huswife's hand- but that's no matter The rank of osiers by the murmuring stream Left on your right hand brings you to the place If that an eye may profit by a tongue, Then should I know you by description- Such garments, and such years Some of my shame; if you will know of me What man I am, and how, and why, and where, This handkercher was stain'd When last the young Orlando parted from you, He left a promise to return again Within an hour; and, pacing through the forest, Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy, Lo, what befell! He threw his eye aside, And mark what object did present itself This seen, Orlando did approach the man, And found it was his brother, his elder brother When from the first to last, betwixt us two, Tears our recountments had most kindly bath'd, As how I came into that desert place- In brief, he led me to the gentle Duke, Who gave me fresh array and entertainment, Committing me unto my brother's love; Who led me instantly unto his cave, There stripp'd himself, and here upon his arm The lioness had torn some flesh away, Which all this while had bled; and now he fainted, And cried, in fainting, upon Rosalind 'The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.' The heathen philosopher, when he had a desire to eat a grape, would open his lips when he put it into his mouth; meaning thereby that grapes were made to eat and lips to open I will deal in poison with thee, or in bastinado, or in steel; I will bandy with thee in faction; will o'er-run thee with policy; I will kill thee a hundred and fifty ways; therefore tremble and depart It shall be to your good; for my father's house and all the revenue that was old Sir Rowland's will I estate upon you, and here live and die a shepherd O, my dear Orlando, how it grieves me to see thee wear thy heart in a scarf! ORLANDO Did your brother tell you how I counterfeited to swoon when he show'd me your handkercher? ORLANDO I have, since I was three year old, convers'd with a magician, most profound in his art and yet not damnable It is to be all made of fantasy, All made of passion, and all made of wishes; All adoration, duty, and observance, All humbleness, all patience, and impatience, All purity, all trial, all obedience; And so am I for Phebe [To ORLANDO] I will satisfy you if ever I satisfied man, and you shall be married to-morrow Dost thou believe, Orlando, that the boy Can do all this that he hath promised? ORLANDO I press in here, sir, amongst the rest of the country copulatives, to swear and to forswear, according as marriage binds and blood breaks I durst go no further than the Lie Circumstantial, nor he durst not give me the Lie Direct; and so we measur'd swords and parted Whiles a wedlock-hymn we sing, Feed yourselves with questioning, That reason wonder may diminish, How thus we met, and these things finish To one, his lands withheld; and to the other, A land itself at large, a potent dukedom If I heard you rightly, The Duke hath put on a religious life, And thrown into neglect the pompous court [To DUKE] You to your former honour I bequeath; Your patience and your virtue well deserves it It is not the fashion to see the lady the epilogue; but it is no more unhandsome than to see the lord the prologue I charge you, O women, for the love you bear to men, to like as much of this play as please you; and I charge you, O men, for the love you bear to women- as I perceive by your simp'ring none of you hates them- that between you and the women the play may please if any born at Ephesus Be seen at any Syracusian marts and fairs; Again, if any Syracusian born Come to the bay of Ephesus-he dies, His goods confiscate to the Duke's dispose, Unless a thousand marks be levied, To quit the penalty and to ransom him Well, Syracusian, say in brief the cause Why thou departed'st from thy native home, And for what cause thou cam'st to Ephesus In Syracuse was I born, and wed Unto a woman, happy but for me, And by me, had not our hap been bad From whom my absence was not six months old, Before herself, almost at fainting under The pleasing punishment that women bear, Had made provision for her following me, And soon and safe arrived where I was Those, for their parents were exceeding poor, I bought, and brought up to attend my sons But longer did we not retain much hope, For what obscured light the heavens did grant Did but convey unto our fearful minds A doubtful warrant of immediate death; Which though myself would gladly have embrac'd, Yet the incessant weepings of my wife, Weeping before for what she saw must come, And piteous plainings of the pretty babes, That mourn'd for fashion, ignorant what to fear, Forc'd me to seek delays for them and me At length another ship had seiz'd on us; And, knowing whom it was their hap to save, Gave healthful welcome to their ship-wreck'd guests, And would have reft the fishers of their prey, Had not their bark been very slow of sail; And therefore homeward did they bend their course And, for the sake of them thou sorrowest for, Do me the favour to dilate at full What have befall'n of them and thee till now Try all the friends thou hast in Ephesus; Beg thou, or borrow, to make up the sum, And live; if no, then thou art doom'd to die 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 Soon at five o'clock, Please you, I'll meet with you upon the mart, And afterward consort you till bed time Methinks your maw, like mine, should be your clock, And strike you home without a messenger Come on, sir knave, have done your foolishness, And tell me how thou hast dispos'd thy charge Now, as I am a Christian, answer me In what safe place you have bestow'd my money, Or I shall break that merry sconce of yours, That stands on tricks when I am undispos'd I have some marks of yours upon my pate, Some of my mistress' marks upon my shoulders, But not a thousand marks between you both Your worship's wife, my mistress at the Phoenix; She that doth fast till you come home to dinner, And prays that you will hie you home to dinner Perhaps some merchant hath invited him, And from the mart he's somewhere gone to dinner; Good sister, let us dine, and never fret The beasts, the fishes, and the winged fowls, Are their males' subjects, and at their controls Nay, he struck so plainly I could to well feel his blows; and withal so doubtfully that I could scarce understand them I know his eye doth homage otherwhere; Or else what lets it but he would be here? Sister, you know he promis'd me a chain; Would that alone a love he would detain, So he would keep fair quarter with his bed! I see the jewel best enamelled Will lose his beauty; yet the gold bides still That others touch and, often touching, will Where gold; and no man that hath a name By falsehood and corruption doth it shame The gold I gave to Dromio is laid up Safe at the Centaur, and the heedful slave Is wand'red forth in care to seek me out Yea, dost thou jeer and flout me in the teeth? Think'st thou I jest? Hold, take thou that, and that Because that I familiarly sometimes Do use you for my fool and chat with you, Your sauciness will jest upon my love, And make a common of my serious hours Ah, do not tear away thyself from me; For know, my love, as easy mayst thou fall A drop of water in the breaking gulf, And take unmingled thence that drop again Without addition or diminishing, As take from me thyself, and not me too How dearly would it touch thee to the quick, Should'st thou but hear I were licentious, And that this body, consecrate to thee, By ruffian lust should be contaminate! Wouldst thou not spit at me and spurn at me, And hurl the name of husband in my face, And tear the stain'd skin off my harlot-brow, And from my false hand cut the wedding-ring, And break it with a deep-divorcing vow? I know thou canst, and therefore see thou do it 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 If aught possess thee from me, it is dross, Usurping ivy, brier, or idle moss; Who all, for want of pruning, with intrusion Infect thy sap, and live on thy confusion Come, come, no longer will I be a fool, To put the finger in the eye and weep, Whilst man and master laughs my woes to scorn Am I in earth, in heaven, or in hell? Sleeping or waking, mad or well-advis'd? Known unto these, and to myself disguis'd! I'll say as they say, and persever so, And in this mist at all adventures go Say that I linger'd with you at your shop To see the making of her carcanet, And that to-morrow you will bring it home But here's a villain that would face me down He met me on the mart, and that I beat him, And charg'd him with a thousand marks in gold, And that I did deny my wife and house That you beat me at the mart I have your hand to show; If the skin were parchment, and the blows you gave were ink, Your own handwriting would tell you what I think I should kick, being kick'd; and being at that pass, You would keep from my heels, and beware of an ass Y'are sad, Signior Balthazar; pray God our cheer May answer my good will and your good welcome here Your cake here is warm within; you stand here in the cold; It would make a man mad as a buck to be so bought and sold A man may break a word with you, sir; and words are but wind; Ay, and break it in your face, so he break it not behind Alas, poor women! make us but believe, Being compact of credit, that you love us; Though others have the arm, show us the sleeve; We in your motion turn, and you may move us Against my soul's pure truth why labour you To make it wander in an unknown field? Are you a god? Would you create me new? Transform me, then, and to your pow'r I'll yield No; It is thyself, mine own self's better part; Mine eye's clear eye, my dear heart's dearer heart, My food, my fortune, and my sweet hope's aim, My sole earth's heaven, and my heaven's claim Call thyself sister, sweet, for I am thee; Thee will I love, and with thee lead my life; Thou hast no husband yet, nor I no wife Marry, sir, she's the kitchen-wench, and all grease; and I know not what use to put her to but to make a lamp of her and run from her by her own light I look'd for the chalky cliffs, but I could find no whiteness in them; but I guess it stood in her chin, by the salt rheum that ran between France and it And, I think, if my breast had not been made of faith, and my heart of steel, She had transform'd me to a curtal dog, and made me turn i' th' wheel If every one knows us, and we know none, 'Tis time, I think, to trudge, pack and be gone There's none but witches do inhabit here, And therefore 'tis high time that I were hence Go home with it, and please your wife withal; And soon at supper-time I'll visit you, And then receive my money for the chain You know since Pentecost the sum is due, And since I have not much importun'd you; Nor now I had not, but that I am bound To Persia, and want guilders for my voyage Pleaseth you walk with me down to his house, I will discharge my bond, and thank you too Belike you thought our love would last too long, If it were chain'd together, and therefore came not Saving your merry humour, here's the note How much your chain weighs to the utmost carat, The fineness of the gold, and chargeful fashion, Which doth amount to three odd ducats more Than I stand debted to this gentleman Nay, come, I pray you, sir, give me the chain; Both wind and tide stays for this gentleman, And I, to blame, have held him here too long Master, there's a bark of Epidamnum That stays but till her owner comes aboard, And then, sir, she bears away Our fraughtage, sir, I have convey'd aboard; and I have bought The oil, the balsamum, and aqua-vitx The ship is in her trim; the merry wind Blows fair from land; they stay for nought at an But for their owner, master, and yourself I Will debate this matter at more leisure, And teach your ears to list me with more heed There's not a man I meet but doth salute me As if I were their well-acquainted friend; And every one doth call me by my name Some tender money to me, some invite me, Some other give me thanks for kindnesses, Some offer me commodities to buy; Even now a tailor call'd me in his shop, And show'd me silks that he had bought for me, And therewithal took measure of my body Not that Adam that kept the Paradise, but that Adam that keeps the prison; he that goes in the calf's skin that was kill'd for the Prodigal; he that came behind you, sir, like an evil angel, and bid you forsake your liberty Nay, she is worse, she is the devil's dam, and here she comes in the habit of a light wench; and thereof comes that the wenches say 'God damn me!' That's as much to say 'God make me a light wench!' It is written they appear to men like angels of light; light is an effect of fire, and fire will burn; ergo, light wenches will burn Avoid then, fiend! What tell'st thou me of supping? Thou art, as you are all, a sorceress; I conjure thee to leave me and be gone Give me the ring of mine you had at dinner, Or, for my diamond, the chain you promis'd, And I'll be gone, sir, and not trouble you Master, be wise; an if you give it her, The devil will shake her chain, and fright us with it A ring he hath of mine worth forty ducats, And for the same he promis'd me a chain; Both one and other he denies me now I charge thee, Satan, hous'd within this man, To yield possession to my holy prayers, And to thy state of darkness hie thee straight It is no shame; the fellow finds his vein, And, yielding to him, humours well his frenzy I will discharge thee ere I go from thee; Bear me forthwith unto his creditor, And, knowing how the debt grows, I will pay it 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 Beside the charge, the shame, imprisonment, You have done wrong to this my honest friend; Who, but for staying on our controversy, Had hoisted sail and put to sea to-day Thou art a villain to impeach me thus; I'll prove mine honour and mine honesty Against thee presently, if thou dar'st stand In bed, he slept not for my urging it; At board, he fed not for my urging it; Alone, it was the subject of my theme; In company, I often glanced it; Still did I tell him it was vile and bad It seems his sleeps were hind'red by thy railing, And thereof comes it that his head is light 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 I will not hence and leave my husband here; And ill it doth beseem your holiness To separate the husband and the wife Come, go; I will fall prostrate at his feet, And never rise until my tears and prayers Have won his Grace to come in person hither And take perforce my husband from the Abbess Once did I get him bound and sent him home, Whilst to take order for the wrongs I went, That here and there his fury had committed Therefore, most gracious Duke, with thy command Let him be brought forth and borne hence for help Long since thy husband serv'd me in my wars, And I to thee engag'd a prince's word, When thou didst make him master of thy bed, To do him all the grace and good I could He cries for you, and vows, if he can take you, To scorch your face, and to disfigure you Even now we hous'd him in the abbey here, And now he's there, past thought of human reason Justice, sweet Prince, against that woman there! She whom thou gav'st to me to be my wife, That hath abused and dishonoured me Even in the strength and height of injury This woman lock'd me out this day from dinner; That goldsmith there, were he not pack'd with her, Could witness it, for he was with me then; Who parted with me to go fetch a chain, Promising to bring it to the Porpentine, Where Balthazar and I did dine together Then all together They fell upon me, bound me, bore me thence, And in a dark and dankish vault at home There left me and my man, both bound together; Till, gnawing with my teeth my bonds in sunder, I gain'd my freedom, and immediately Ran hither to your Grace; whom I beseech To give me ample satisfaction For these deep shames and great indignities 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 Within this hour I was his bondman, sir, But he, I thank him, gnaw'd in two my cords Now am I Dromio and his man unbound 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 [To LUCIANA] What I told you then, I hope I shall have leisure to make good; If this be not a dream I see and hear I see we still did meet each other's man, And I was ta'en for him, and he for me, And thereupon these ERRORS are arose Renowned Duke, vouchsafe to take the pains To go with us into the abbey here, And hear at large discoursed all our fortunes; And all that are assembled in this place That by this sympathized one day's error Have suffer'd wrong, go keep us company, And we shall make full satisfaction We came into the world like brother and brother, And now let's go hand in hand, not one before another What work's, my countrymen, in hand? Where go you With bats and clubs? The matter? Speak, I pray you Suffer us to famish, and their storehouses cramm'd with grain; make edicts for usury, to support usurers; repeal daily any wholesome act established against the rich, and provide more piercing statutes daily to chain up and restrain the poor The senators of Rome are this good belly, And you the mutinous members; for, examine Their counsels and their cares, digest things rightly Touching the weal o' th' common, you shall find No public benefit which you receive But it proceeds or comes from them to you, And no way from yourselves Your virtue is To make him worthy whose offence subdues him, And curse that justice did it He that depends Upon your favours swims with fins of lead, And hews down oaks with rushes Hang ye! Trust ye? With every minute you do change a mind And call him noble that was now your hate, Him vile that was your garland So, your opinion is, Aufidius, That they of Rome are ent'red in our counsels And know how we proceed O' my troth, I look'd upon him a Wednesday half an hour together; has such a confirm'd countenance! I saw him run after a gilded butterfly; and when he caught it he let it go again, and after it again, and over and over he comes, and up again, catch'd it again; or whether his fall enrag'd him, or how 'twas, he did so set his teeth and tear it Your lord and Titus Lartius are set down before their city Corioli; they nothing doubt prevailing and to make it brief wars Before Corioli Enter MARCIUS, TITUS LARTIUS, with drum and colours, with CAPTAINS and soldiers All the contagion of the south light on you, You shames of Rome! you herd of- Boils and plagues Plaster you o'er, that you may be abhorr'd Farther than seen, and one infect another Against the wind a mile! You souls of geese That bear the shapes of men, how have you run From slaves that apes would beat! Pluto and hell! All hurt behind! Backs red, and faces pale With flight and agued fear! Mend and charge home, Or, by the fires of heaven, I'll leave the foe And make my wars on you O noble fellow! Who sensibly outdares his senseless sword, And when it bows stand'st up Thou wast a soldier Even to Cato's wish, not fierce and terrible Only in strokes; but with thy grim looks and The thunder-like percussion of thy sounds Thou mad'st thine enemies shake, as if the world Were feverous and did tremble The citizens of Corioli have issued And given to Lartius and to Marcius battle; I saw our party to their trenches driven, And then I came away O! let me clip ye In arms as sound as when I woo'd, in heart As merry as when our nuptial day was done, And tapers burn'd to bedward If any such be here- As it were sin to doubt- that love this painting Wherein you see me smear'd; if any fear Lesser his person than an ill report; If any think brave death outweighs bad life And that his country's dearer than himself; Let him alone, or so many so minded, Wave thus to express his disposition, And follow Marcius Within these three hours, Tullus, Alone I fought in your Corioli walls, And made what work I pleas'd Should they not, Well might they fester 'gainst ingratitude And tent themselves with death He cried to me; I saw him prisoner; But then Aufidius was within my view, And wrath o'erwhelm'd my pity Where I find him, were it At home, upon my brother's guard, even there, Against the hospitable canon, would I Wash my fierce hand in's heart Look, here's a letter from him; the state hath another, his wife another; and I think there's one at home for you And 'twas time for him too, I'll warrant him that; an he had stay'd by him, I would not have been so fidius'd for all the chests in Corioli and the gold that's in them I' th' shoulder and i' th' left arm; there will be large cicatrices to show the people when he shall stand for his place Before him he carries noise, and behind him he leaves tears; Death, that dark spirit, in's nervy arm doth lie, Which, being advanc'd, declines, and then men die My gracious silence, hail! Wouldst thou have laugh'd had I come coffin'd home, That weep'st to see me triumph? Ah, my dear, Such eyes the widows in Corioli wear, And mothers that lack sons Such a pother, As if that whatsoever god who leads him Were slily crept into his human powers, And gave him graceful posture O, he would miss it rather Than carry it but by the suit of the gentry to him And the desire of the nobles 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 He hath deserved worthily of his country; and his ascent is not by such easy degrees as those who, having been supple and courteous to the people, bonneted, without any further deed to have them at all, into their estimation and report; but he hath so planted his honours in their eyes and his actions in their hearts that for their tongues to be silent and not confess so much were a kind of ingrateful injury; to report otherwise were a malice that, giving itself the lie, would pluck reproof and rebuke from every car that heard it At sixteen years, When Tarquin made a head for Rome, he fought Beyond the mark of others; our then Dictator, Whom with all praise I point at, saw him fight When with his Amazonian chin he drove The bristled lips before him; he bestrid An o'erpress'd Roman and i' th' consul's view Slew three opposers; Tarquin's self he met, And struck him on his knee His pupil age Man-ent'red thus, he waxed like a sea, And in the brunt of seventeen battles since He lurch'd all swords of the garland He stopp'd the fliers, And by his rare example made the coward Turn terror into sport; as weeds before A vessel under sail, so men obey'd And fell below his stem We recommend to you, Tribunes of the People, Our purpose to them; and to our noble consul Wish we all joy and honour Enter CORIOLANUS, in a gown of humility, with MENENIUS Here he comes, and in the gown of humility We are not to stay all together, but to come by him where he stands, by ones, by twos, and by threes He's to make his requests by particulars, wherein every one of us has a single honour, in giving him our own voices with our own tongues; therefore follow me, and I'll direct you how you shall go by him I will, sir, flatter my sworn brother, the people, to earn a dearer estimation of them; 'tis a condition they account gentle; and since the wisdom of their choice is rather to have my hat than my heart, I will practise the insinuating nod and be off to them most counterfeitly That is, sir, I will counterfeit the bewitchment of some popular man and give it bountiful to the desirers Could you not have told him- As you were lesson'd- when he had no power But was a petty servant to the state, He was your enemy; ever spake against Your liberties and the charters that you bear I' th' body of the weal; and now, arriving A place of potency and sway o' th' state, If he should still malignantly remain Fast foe to th' plebeii, your voices might Be curses to yourselves? You should have said That as his worthy deeds did claim no less Than what he stood for, so his gracious nature Would think upon you for your voices, and Translate his malice towards you into love, Standing your friendly lord So, putting him to rage, You should have ta'en th' advantage of his choler And pass'd him unelected Thou wretch, despite o'erwhelm thee! What should the people do with these bald tribunes, On whom depending, their obedience fails To the greater bench? In a rebellion, When what's not meet, but what must be, was law, Then were they chosen; in a better hour Let what is meet be said it must be meet, And throw their power i' th' dust That is the way to lay the city flat, To bring the roof to the foundation, And bury all which yet distinctly ranges In heaps and piles of ruin What has he done to Rome that's worthy death? Killing our enemies, the blood he hath lost- Which I dare vouch is more than that he hath By many an ounce- he dropt it for his country; And what is left, to lose it by his country Were to us all that do't and suffer it A brand to th' end o' th' world Proceed by process, Lest parties- as he is belov'd- break out, And sack great Rome with Romans There's no remedy, Unless, by not so doing, our good city Cleave in the midst and perish I prithee now, My son, Go to them with this bonnet in thy hand; And thus far having stretch'd it- here be with them- Thy knee bussing the stones- for in such busines Action is eloquence, and the eyes of th' ignorant More learned than the ears- waving thy head, Which often thus correcting thy-stout heart, Now humble as the ripest mulberry That will not hold the handling Or say to them Thou art their soldier and, being bred in broils, Hast not the soft way which, thou dost confess, Were fit for thee to use, as they to claim, In asking their good loves; but thou wilt frame Thyself, forsooth, hereafter theirs, so far As thou hast power and person Must I go show them my unbarb'd sconce? Must I With my base tongue give to my noble heart A lie that it must bear? Well, I will do't; Yet, were there but this single plot to lose, This mould of Marcius, they to dust should grind it, And throw't against the wind Assemble presently the people hither; And when they hear me say 'It shall be so I' th' right and strength o' th' commons' be it either For death, for fine, or banishment, then let them, If I say fine, cry 'Fine!'- if death, cry 'Death!' Insisting on the old prerogative And power i' th' truth o' th' cause I do love My country's good with a respect more tender, More holy and profound, than mine own life, My dear wife's estimate, her womb's increase And treasure of my loins There's no more to be said, but he is banish'd, As enemy to the people and his country Nay, mother, Resume that spirit when you were wont to say, If you had been the wife of Hercules, Six of his labours you'd have done, and sav'd Your husband so much sweat Thou old and true Menenius, Thy tears are salter than a younger man's And venomous to thine eyes 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 Come, my sweet wife, my dearest mother, and My friends of noble touch; when I am forth, Bid me farewell, and smile I would my son Were in Arabia, and thy tribe before him, His good sword in his hand I have heard it said the fittest time to corrupt a man's wife is when she's fall'n out with her husband Exit CITIZEN O world, thy slippery turns! Friends now fast sworn, Whose double bosoms seems to wear one heart, Whose hours, whose bed, whose meal and exercise Are still together, who twin, as 'twere, in love, Unseparable, shall within this hour, On a dissension of a doit, break out To bitterest enmity; so fellest foes, Whose passions and whose plots have broke their sleep To take the one the other, by some chance, Some trick not worth an egg, shall grow dear friends And interjoin their issues [Unmuffling] If, Tullus, Not yet thou know'st me, and, seeing me, dost not Think me for the man I am, necessity Commands me name myself Now this extremity Hath brought me to thy hearth; not out of hope, Mistake me not, to save my life; for if I had fear'd death, of all the men i' th' world I would have 'voided thee; but in mere spite, To be full quit of those my banishers, Stand I before thee here Then if thou hast A heart of wreak in thee, that wilt revenge Thine own particular wrongs and stop those maims Of shame seen through thy country, speed thee straight And make my misery serve thy turn 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 What an arm he has! He turn'd me about with his finger and his thumb, as one would set up a top Why, he is so made on here within as if he were son and heir to Mars; set at upper end o' th' table; no question asked him by any of the senators but they stand bald before him Our general himself makes a mistress of him, sanctifies himself with's hand, and turns up the white o' th' eye to his discourse But the bottom of the news is, our general is cut i' th' middle and but one half of what he was yesterday, for the other has half by the entreaty and grant of the whole table He'll go, he says, and sowl the porter of Rome gates by th' ears; he will mow all down before him, and leave his passage poll'd 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 You shall have the drum struck up this afternoon; 'tis as it were parcel of their feast, and to be executed ere they wipe their lips Let me have war, say I; it exceeds peace as far as day does night; it's spritely, waking, audible, and full of vent 'Tis Aufidius, Who, hearing of our Marcius' banishment, Thrusts forth his horns again into the world, Which were inshell'd when Marcius stood for Rome, And durst not once peep out It is spoke freely out of many mouths- How probable I do not know- that Marcius, Join'd with Aufidius, leads a power 'gainst Rome, And vows revenge as spacious as between The young'st and oldest thing All the regions Do smilingly revolt, and who resists Are mock'd for valiant ignorance, And perish constant fools Who shall ask it? The tribunes cannot do't for shame; the people Deserve such pity of him as the wolf Does of the shepherds; for his best friends, if they Should say 'Be good to Rome'- they charg'd him even As those should do that had deserv'd his hate, And therein show'd fike enemies Now he's coming, And not a hair upon a soldier's head Which will not prove a whip; as many coxcombs As you threw caps up will he tumble down, And pay you for your voices All places yield to him ere he sits down, And the nobility of Rome are his; The senators and patricians love him too Whether 'twas pride, Which out of daily fortune ever taints The happy man; whether defect of judgment, To fail in the disposing of those chances Which he was lord of; or whether nature, Not to be other than one thing, not moving From th' casque to th' cushion, but commanding peace Even with the same austerity and garb As he controll'd the war; but one of these- As he hath spices of them all- not all, For I dare so far free him- made him fear'd, So hated, and so banish'd He said 'twas folly, For one poor grain or two, to leave unburnt And still to nose th' offence Therefore I'll watch him Till he be dieted to my request, And then I'll set upon him I kneel'd before him; 'Twas very faintly he said 'Rise'; dismiss'd me Thus with his speechless hand Can you, when you have push'd out your gates the very defender of them, and in a violent popular ignorance given your enemy your shield, think to front his revenges with the easy groans of old women, the virginal palms of your daughters, or with the palsied intercession of such a decay'd dotant as you seem to be? Can you think to blow out the intended fire your city is ready to flame in with such weak breath as this? No, you are deceiv'd; therefore back to Rome and prepare for your execution I was hardly moved to come to thee; but being assured none but myself could move thee, I have been blown out of your gates with sighs, and conjure thee to pardon Rome and thy petitionary countrymen Yet, for I lov'd thee, Take this along; I writ it for thy sake [Gives a letter] And would have sent it Their latest refuge Was to send him; for whose old love I have- Though I show'd sourly to him- once more offer'd The first conditions, which they did refuse And cannot now accept Enter, in mourning habits, VIRGILIA, VOLUMNIA, VALERIA, YOUNG MARCIUS, with attendants My wife comes foremost, then the honour'd mould Wherein this trunk was fram'd, and in her hand The grandchild to her blood My mother bows, As if Olympus to a molehill should In supplication nod; and my young boy Hath an aspect of intercession which Great nature cries 'Deny not.' Let the Volsces Plough Rome and harrow Italy; I'll never Be such a gosling to obey instinct, but stand As if a man were author of himself And knew no other kin O, stand up blest! Whilst with no softer cushion than the flint I kneel before thee, and unproperly Show duty, as mistaken all this while Between the child and parent We must find An evident calamity, though we had Our wish, which side should win; for either thou Must as a foreign recreant be led With manacles through our streets, or else Triumphantly tread on thy country's ruin, And bear the palm for having bravely shed Thy wife and children's blood For my part, I'll not to Rome, I'll back with you; and pray you Stand to me in this cause He is able to pierce a corslet with his eye, talks like a knell, and his hum is a battery Good news, good news! The ladies have prevail'd, The Volscians are dislodg'd, and Marcius gone This Volumnia Is worth of consuls, senators, patricians, A city full; of tribunes such as you, A sea and land full Behold our patroness, the life of Rome! Call all your tribes together, praise the gods, And make triumphant fires; strew flowers before them I rais'd him, and I pawn'd Mine honour for his truth; who being so heighten'd, He watered his new plants with dews of flattery, Seducing so my friends; and to this end He bow'd his nature, never known before But to be rough, unswayable, and free At a few drops of women's rheum, which are As cheap as lies, he sold the blood and labour Of our great action; therefore shall he die, And I'll renew me in his fall Hail, lords! I am return'd your soldier; No more infected with my country's love Than when I parted hence, but still subsisting Under your great command Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him! [The CONSPIRATORS draw and kill CORIOLANUS,who falls Dramatis Personae CYMBELINE, King of Britain CLOTEN, son to the Queen by a former husband POSTHUMUS LEONATUS, a gentleman, husband to Imogen BELARIUS, a banished lord, disguised under the name of Morgan GUIDERIUS and ARVIRAGUS, sons to Cymbeline, disguised under the names of POLYDORE and CADWAL, supposed sons to Belarius PHILARIO, Italian, friend to Posthumus IACHIMO, Italian, friend to Philario A FRENCH GENTLEMAN, friend to Philario CAIUS LUCIUS, General of the Roman Forces A ROMAN CAPTAIN TWO BRITISH CAPTAINS PISANIO, servant to Posthumus CORNELIUS, a physician TWO LORDS of Cymbeline's court TWO GENTLEMEN of the same TWO GAOLERS QUEEN, wife to Cymbeline IMOGEN, daughter to Cymbeline by a former queen HELEN, a lady attending on Imogen APPARITIONS Lords, Ladies, Roman Senators, Tribunes, a Soothsayer, a Dutch Gentleman, a Spanish Gentleman, Musicians, Officers, Captains, Soldiers, Messengers, and Attendants There might have been, But that my master rather play'd than fought, And had no help of anger; they were parted By gentlemen at hand I would have broke mine eyestrings, crack'd them but To look upon him, till the diminution Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle; Nay, followed him till he had melted from The smallness of a gnat to air, and then Have turn'd mine eye and wept You speak of him when he was less furnish'd than now he is with that which makes him both without and within Since when I have been debtor to you for courtesies, which I will be ever to pay and yet pay still I was glad I did atone my countryman and you; it had been pity you should have been put together with so mortal a purpose as then each bore, upon importance of so slight and trivial a nature As fair and as good- a kind of hand-in-hand comparison- had been something too fair and too good for any lady in Britain the one may be sold or given, if there were wealth enough for the purchase or merit for the gift; the other is not a thing for sale, and only the gift of the gods So your brace of unprizable estimations, the one is but frail and the other casual; a cunning thief, or a that-way-accomplish'd courtier, would hazard the winning both of first and last With five times so much conversation I should get ground of your fair mistress; make her go back even to the yielding, had I admittance and opportunity to friend You are a great deal abus'd in too bold a persuasion, and I doubt not you sustain what y'are worthy of by your attempt It came in too suddenly; let it die as it was born, and I pray you be better acquainted Your hand- a covenant! We will have these things set down by lawful counsel, and straight away for Britain, lest the bargain should catch cold and starve Have I not been Thy pupil long? Hast thou not learn'd me how To make perfumes? distil? preserve? yea, so That our great king himself doth woo me oft For my confections? Having thus far proceeded- Unless thou think'st me devilish- is't not meet That I did amplify my judgment in Other conclusions? I will try the forces Of these thy compounds on such creatures as We count not worth the hanging- but none human- To try the vigour of them, and apply Allayments to their act, and by them gather Their several virtues and effects Your Highness Shall from this practice but make hard your heart; Besides, the seeing these effects will be Both noisome and infectious Exit PISANIO A sly and constant knave, Not to be shak'd; the agent for his master, And the remembrancer of her to hold The hand-fast to her lord A father cruel and a step-dame false; A foolish suitor to a wedded lady That hath her husband banish'd Change you, madam? The worthy Leonatus is in safety, And greets your Highness dearly LEONATUS.' So far I read aloud; But even the very middle of my heart Is warm'd by th' rest and takes it thankfully You do seem to know Something of me, or what concerns me; pray you- Since doubting things go ill often hurts more Than to be sure they do; for certainties Either are past remedies, or, timely knowing, The remedy then born- discover to me What both you spur and stop When a gentleman is dispos'd to swear, it is not for any standers-by to curtail his oaths Exeunt CLOTEN and FIRST LORD That such a crafty devil as is his mother Should yield the world this ass! A woman that Bears all down with her brain; and this her son Cannot take two from twenty, for his heart, And leave eighteen Such and such pictures; there the window; such Th' adornment of her bed; the arras, figures- Why, such and such; and the contents o' th' story First, a very excellent good-conceited thing; after, a wonderful sweet air, with admirable rich words to it- and then let her consider He cannot choose but take this service I have done fatherly.- Good morrow to your Majesty and to my gracious mother The exile of her minion is too new; She hath not yet forgot him; some more time Must wear the print of his remembrance out, And then she's yours Frame yourself To orderly soliciting, and be friended With aptness of the season; make denials Increase your services; so seem as if You were inspir'd to do those duties which You tender to her; that you in all obey her, Save when command to your dismission tends, And therein you are senseless By your leave, ho! [Knocks] I know her women are about her; what If I do line one of their hands? 'Tis gold Which buys admittance; oft it doth-yea, and makes Diana's rangers false themselves, yield up Their deer to th' stand o' th' stealer; and 'tis gold Which makes the true man kill'd and saves the thief; Nay, sometime hangs both thief and true man What Can it not do and undo? I will make One of her women lawyer to me, for I yet not understand the case myself The thanks I give Is telling you that I am poor of thanks, And scarce can spare them And therewithal the best; or let her beauty Look through a casement to allure false hearts, And be false with them If you can make't apparent That you have tasted her in bed, my hand And ring is yours The roof o' th' chamber With golden cherubins is fretted; her andirons- I had forgot them- were two winking Cupids Of silver, each on one foot standing, nicely Depending on their brands She stripp'd it from her arm; I see her yet; Her pretty action did outsell her gift, And yet enrich'd it too Her attendants are All sworn and honourable- they induc'd to steal it! And by a stranger! No, he hath enjoy'd her 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 If you beat us out of it, it is yours; if you fall in the adventure, our crows shall fare the better for you; and there's an end But first of all, How we may steal from hence; and for the gap That we shall make in time from our hence-going And our return, to excuse Our valour is to chase what flies; our cage We make a choir, as doth the prison'd bird, And sing our bondage freely Then was I as a tree Whose boughs did bend with fruit; but in one night A storm, or robbery, call it what you will, Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves, And left me bare to weather Hark, the game is rous'd! O Cymbeline, heaven and my conscience knows Thou didst unjustly banish me! Whereon, At three and two years old, I stole these babes, Thinking to bar thee of succession as Thou refts me of my lands Euriphile, Thou wast their nurse; they took thee for their mother, And every day do honour to her grave My husband's hand? That drug-damn'd Italy hath out-craftied him, And he's at some hard point Kings, queens, and states, Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave, This viperous slander enters Thus may poor fools Believe false teachers; though those that are betray'd Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor Stands in worse case of woe Would you, in their serving, And with what imitation you can borrow From youth of such a season, fore noble Lucius Present yourself, desire his service, tell him Wherein you're happy- which will make him know If that his head have ear in music; doubtless With joy he will embrace you; for he's honourable, And, doubling that, most holy Beseech your Majesty, Forbear sharp speeches to her; she's a lady So tender of rebukes that words are strokes, And strokes death to her No more of 'worthy lord'! Speak, or thy silence on the instant is Thy condemnation and thy death I have, my lord, at my lodging, the same suit he wore when he took leave of my lady and mistress 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 Well encounter'd! 'Tis almost night; you shall have better cheer Ere you depart, and thanks to stay and eat it [Aside] O noble strain! O worthiness of nature! breed of greatness! Cowards father cowards and base things sire base But his neat cookery! He cut our roots in characters, And sauc'd our broths as Juno had been sick, And he her dieter When I have slain thee with my proper hand, I'll follow those that even now fled hence, And on the gates of Lud's Town set your heads I cannot tell; long is it since I saw him, But time hath nothing blurr'd those lines of favour Which then he wore; the snatches in his voice, And burst of speaking, were as his cut off one Cloten's head, Son to the Queen, after his own report; Who call'd me traitor, mountaineer, and swore With his own single hand he'd take us in, Displace our heads where- thank the gods!- they grow, And set them on Lud's Town I'll throw't into the creek Behind our rock, and let it to the sea And tell the fishes he's the Queen's son, Cloten I would revenges, That possible strength might meet, would seek us through, And put us to our answer Poor sick Fidele! I'll willingly to him; to gain his colour I'd let a parish of such Cloten's blood, And praise myself for charity O thou goddess, Thou divine Nature, thou thyself thou blazon'st In these two princely boys! They are as gentle As zephyrs blowing below the violet, Not wagging his sweet head; and yet as rough, Their royal blood enchaf'd, as the rud'st wind That by the top doth take the mountain pine And make him stoop to th' vale The matter? Triumphs for nothing and lamenting toys Is jollity for apes and grief for boys If he be gone he'll make his grave a bed; With female fairies will his tomb be haunted, And worms will not come to thee I'll weep, and word it with thee; For notes of sorrow out of tune are worse Than priests and fanes that lie Though mean and mighty rotting Together have one dust, yet reverence- That angel of the world- doth make distinction Of place 'tween high and low Fear no more the heat o' th' sun Nor the furious winter's rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages I hope I dream; For so I thought I was a cave-keeper, And cook to honest creatures O Posthumus! alas, Where is thy head? Where's that? Ay me! where's that? Pisanio might have kill'd thee at the heart, And left this head on Last night the very gods show'd me a vision- I fast and pray'd for their intelligence- thus Nay, what hope Have we in hiding us? This way the Romans Must or for Britons slay us, or receive us For barbarous and unnatural revolts During their use, and slay us after Have with you, boys! If in your country wars you chance to die, That is my bed too, lads, and there I'll lie [Aside] The time seems long; their blood thinks scorn Till it fly out and show them princes born You some permit To second ills with ills, each elder worse, And make them dread it, to the doer's thrift 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 If that thy gentry, Britain, go before This lout as he exceeds our lords, the odds Is that we scarce are men, and you are gods Stand, stand, and fight! Re-enter POSTHUMUS, and seconds the Britons; they rescue CYMBELINE, and exeunt And so, great pow'rs, If you will take this audit, take this life, And cancel these cold bonds With Mars fall out, with Juno chide, That thy adulteries Rates and revenges Thy crystal window ope; look out; No longer exercise Upon a valiant race thy harsh And potent injuries Rise and fade! He shall be lord of Lady Imogen, And happier much by his affliction made [Waking] Sleep, thou has been a grandsire and begot A father to me; and thou hast created A mother and two brothers Poor wretches, that depend On greatness' favour, dream as I have done; Wake and find nothing But, alas, I swerve; Many dream not to find, neither deserve, And yet are steep'd in favours; so am I, That have this golden chance, and know not why I tell thee, fellow, there are none want eyes to direct them the way I am going, but such as wink and will not use them I never saw Such noble fury in so poor a thing; Such precious deeds in one that promis'd nought But beggary and poor looks Why so sadly Greet you our victory? You look like Romans, And not o' th' court of Britain It had been vicious To have mistrusted her; yet, O my daughter! That it was folly in me thou mayst say, And prove it in thy feeling By villainy I got this ring; 'twas Leonatus' jewel, Whom thou didst banish; and- which more may grieve thee, As it doth me- a nobler sir ne'er liv'd 'Twixt sky and ground He spake of her as Dian had hot dreams And she alone were cold; whereat I, wretch, Made scruple of his praise, and wager'd with him Pieces of gold 'gainst this which then he wore Upon his honour'd finger, to attain In suit the place of's bed, and win this ring By hers and mine adultery Well may you, sir, Remember me at court, where I was taught Of your chaste daughter the wide difference 'Twixt amorous and villainous Mighty sir, These two young gentlemen that call me father, And think they are my sons, are none of mine; They are the issue of your loins, my liege, And blood of your begetting The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline, Personates thee; and thy lopp'd branches point Thy two sons forth, who, by Belarius stol'n, For many years thought dead, are now reviv'd, To the majestic cedar join'd, whose issue Promises Britain peace and plenty And, Caius Lucius, Although the victor, we submit to Caesar And to the Roman empire, promising To pay our wonted tribute, from the which We were dissuaded by our wicked queen, Whom heavens in justice, both on her and hers, Have laid most heavy hand Set on there! Never was a war did cease, Ere bloody hands were wash'd, with such a peace Therefore I have entreated him along, With us to watch the minutes of this night, That, if again this apparition come, He may approve our eyes and speak to it Now, sir, young Fortinbras, Of unimproved mettle hot and full, Hath in the skirts of Norway, here and there, Shark'd up a list of lawless resolutes, For food and diet, to some enterprise That hath a stomach in't; which is no other, As it doth well appear unto our state, But to recover of us, by strong hand And terms compulsatory, those foresaid lands So by his father lost; and this, I take it, Is the main motive of our preparations, The source of this our watch, and the chief head Of this post-haste and romage in the land Well may it sort that this portentous figure Comes armed through our watch, so like the King That was and is the question of these wars And even the like precurse of fierce events, As harbingers preceding still the fates And prologue to the omen coming on, Have heaven and earth together demonstrated Unto our climature and countrymen We do it wrong, being so majestical, To offer it the show of violence; For it is as the air, invulnerable, And our vain blows malicious mockery Some say that ever, 'gainst that season comes Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated, The bird of dawning singeth all night long; And then, they say, no spirit dare stir abroad, The nights are wholesome, then no planets strike, No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm, So hallow'd and so gracious is the time My dread lord, Your leave and favour to return to France; From whence though willingly I came to Denmark To show my duty in your coronation, Yet now I must confess, that duty done, My thoughts and wishes bend again toward France And bow them to your gracious leave and pardon Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour off, And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark These indeed seem, For they are actions that a man might play; But I have that within which passeth show- These but the trappings and the suits of woe For your intent In going back to school in Wittenberg, It is most retrograde to our desire; And we beseech you, bend you to remain Here in the cheer and comfort of our eye, Our chiefest courtier, cousin, and our son But break my heart, for I must hold my tongue! Enter Horatio, Marcellus, and Bernardo A figure like your father, Armed at point exactly, cap-a-pe, Appears before them and with solemn march Goes slow and stately by them Thrice he walk'd By their oppress'd and fear-surprised eyes, Within his truncheon's length; whilst they distill'd Almost to jelly with the act of fear, Stand dumb and speak not to him Yet once methought It lifted up it head and did address Itself to motion, like as it would speak; But even then the morning cock crew loud, And at the sound it shrunk in haste away And vanish'd from our sight If it assume my noble father's person, I'll speak to it, though hell itself should gape And bid me hold my peace I pray you all, If you have hitherto conceal'd this sight, Let it be tenable in your silence still; And whatsoever else shall hap to-night, Give it an understanding but no tongue Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister, And keep you in the rear of your affection, Out of the shot and danger of desire But, good my brother, Do not as some ungracious pastors do, Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven, Whiles, like a puff'd and reckless libertine, Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads And recks not his own rede Yet here, Laertes? Aboard, aboard, for shame! The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail, And you are stay'd for Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy; For the apparel oft proclaims the man, And they in France of the best rank and station Are most select and generous, chief in that Neither a borrower nor a lender be; For loan oft loses both itself and friend, And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry Marry, well bethought! 'Tis told me he hath very oft of late Given private time to you, and you yourself Have of your audience been most free and bounteous If it be so- as so 'tis put on me, And that in way of caution- I must tell you You do not understand yourself so clearly As it behooves my daughter and your honour This heavy-headed revel east and west Makes us traduc'd and tax'd of other nations; They clip us drunkards and with swinish phrase Soil our addition; and indeed it takes From our achievements, though perform'd at height, The pith and marrow of our attribute What if it tempt you toward the flood, my lord, Or to the dreadful summit of the cliff That beetles o'er his base into the sea, And there assume some other, horrible form Which might deprive your sovereignty of reason And draw you into madness? Think of it The very place puts toys of desperation, Without more motive, into every brain That looks so many fadoms to the sea And hears it roar beneath I am thy father's spirit, Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night, And for the day confin'd to fast in fires, Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature Are burnt and purg'd away O Hamlet, what a falling-off was there, From me, whose love was of that dignity That it went hand in hand even with the vow I made to her in marriage, and to decline Upon a wretch whose natural gifts were poor To those of mine! But virtue, as it never will be mov'd, Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven, So lust, though to a radiant angel link'd, Will sate itself in a celestial bed And prey on garbage Sleeping within my orchard, My custom always of the afternoon, Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole, With juice of cursed hebona in a vial, And in the porches of my ears did pour The leperous distilment; whose effect Holds such an enmity with blood of man That swift as quicksilverr it courses through The natural gates and alleys of the body, And with a sudden vigour it doth posset And curd, like eager droppings into milk, The thin and wholesome blood Leave her to heaven, And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge To prick and sting her Look you, sir, Enquire me first what Danskers are in Paris; And how, and who, what means, and where they keep, What company, at what expense; and finding By this encompassment and drift of question That they do know my son, come you more nearer Than your particular demands will touch it But if't be he I mean, he's very wild Addicted so and so'; and there put on him What forgeries you please; marry, none so rank As may dishonour him- take heed of that; But, sir, such wanton, wild, and usual slips As are companions noted and most known To youth and liberty At last, a little shaking of mine arm, And thrice his head thus waving up and down, He rais'd a sigh so piteous and profound As it did seem to shatter all his bulk And end his being That done, he lets me go, And with his head over his shoulder turn'd He seem'd to find his way without his eyes, For out o' doors he went without their help And to the last bended their light on me But we both obey, And here give up ourselves, in the full bent, To lay our service freely at your feet, To be commanded And I beseech you instantly to visit My too much changed son.- Go, some of you, And bring these gentlemen where Hamlet is [Exit Polonius.] He tells me, my dear Gertrude, he hath found The head and source of all your son's distemper It likes us well; And at our more consider'd time we'll read, Answer, and think upon this business My liege, and madam, to expostulate What majesty should be, what duty is, Why day is day, night is night, and time is time But what might you think, When I had seen this hot love on the wing (As I perceiv'd it, I must tell you that, Before my daughter told me), what might you, Or my dear Majesty your queen here, think, If I had play'd the desk or table book, Or given my heart a winking, mute and dumb, Or look'd upon this love with idle sight? What might you think? No, I went round to work And my young mistress thus I did bespeak Which done, she took the fruits of my advice, And he, repulsed, a short tale to make, Fell into a sadness, then into a fast, Thence to a watch, thence into a weakness, Thence to a lightness, and, by this declension, Into the madness wherein now he raves, And all we mourn for If he love her not, And he not from his reason fall'n thereon Let me be no assistant for a state, But keep a farm and carters [Aside] How pregnant sometimes his replies are! a happiness that often madness hits on, which reason and sanity could not so prosperously be delivered of You cannot, sir, take from me anything that I will more willingly part withal- except my life, except my life, except my life, Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks; but I thank you; and sure, dear friends, my thanks are too dear a halfpenny I have of late- but wherefore I know not- lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed, it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire- why, it appeareth no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours How chances it they travel? Their residence, both in reputation and profit, was better both ways Nay, their endeavour keeps in the wonted pace; but there is, sir, an eyrie of children, little eyases, that cry out on the top of question and are most tyrannically clapp'd fort I remember one said there were no sallets in the lines to make the matter savoury, nor no matter in the phrase that might indict the author of affectation; but call'd it an honest method, as wholesome as sweet, and by very much more handsome than fine His antique sword, Rebellious to his arm, lies where it falls, Repugnant to command God's bodykins, man, much better! Use every man after his desert, and who should scape whipping? Use them after your own honour and dignity O what a rogue and peasant slave am I! Is it not monstrous that this player here, But in a fiction, in a dream of passion, Could force his soul so to his own conceit That, from her working, all his visage wann'd, Tears in his eyes, distraction in's aspect, A broken voice, and his whole function suiting With forms to his conceit? And all for nothing! For Hecuba! What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, That he should weep for her? What would he do, Had he the motive and the cue for passion That I have? He would drown the stage with tears And cleave the general ear with horrid speech; Make mad the guilty and appal the free, Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed The very faculties of eyes and ears 'Tis most true; And he beseech'd me to entreat your Majesties To hear and see the matter Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing end them O, woe is me T' have seen what I have seen, see what I see! Enter King and Polonius O, it offends me to the soul to hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split the cars of the groundlings, who (for the most part) are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb shows and noise for anything so overdone is from the purpose of playing, whose end, both at the first and now, was and is, to hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to nature; to show Virtue her own feature, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time his form and pressure If he steal aught the whilst this play is playing, And scape detecting, I will pay the theft Full thirty times hath Phoebus' cart gone round Neptune's salt wash and Tellus' orbed ground, And thirty dozed moons with borrowed sheen About the world have times twelve thirties been, Since love our hearts, and Hymen did our hands, Unite comutual in most sacred bands So many journeys may the sun and moon Make us again count o'er ere love be done! But woe is me! you are so sick of late, So far from cheer and from your former state Now what my love is, proof hath made you know; And as my love is siz'd, my fear is so Then will I come to my mother by-and-by.- They fool me to the top of my bent.- I will come by-and-by Therefore prepare you; I your commission will forthwith dispatch, And he to England shall along with you Most holy and religious fear it is To keep those many many bodies safe That live and feed upon your Majesty My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent, And, like a man to double business bound, I stand in pause where I shall first begin, And both neglect But, O, what form of prayer Can serve my turn? 'Forgive me my foul murther'? That cannot be; since I am still possess'd Of those effects for which I did the murther- My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen Tell him his pranks have been too broad to bear with, And that your Grace hath screen'd and stood between Much heat and him No, by the rood, not so! You are the Queen, your husband's brother's wife, And (would it were not so!) you are my mother [draws] How now? a rat? Dead for a ducat, dead! [Makes a pass through the arras and] kills Polonius Peace! sit you down And let me wring your heart; for so I shall If it be made of penetrable stuff; If damned custom have not braz'd it so That it is proof and bulwark against sense O shame! where is thy blush? Rebellious hell, If thou canst mutine in a matron's bones, To flaming youth let virtue be as wax And melt in her own fire Proclaim no shame When the compulsive ardour gives the charge, Since frost itself as actively doth burn, And reason panders will Alas, how is't with you, That you do bend your eye on vacancy, And with th' encorporal air do hold discourse? Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep; And, as the sleeping soldiers in th' alarm, Your bedded hairs, like life in excrements, Start up and stand an end Forgive me this my virtue; For in the fatness of these pursy times Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg- Yea, curb and woo for leave to do him good Once more, good night; And when you are desirous to be blest, I'll blessing beg of you.- For this same lord, I do repent; but heaven hath pleas'd it so, To punish me with this, and this with me, That I must be their scourge and minister 'Twere good you let him know; For who that's but a queen, fair, sober, wise, Would from a paddock, from a bat, a gib Such dear concernings hide? Who would do so? No, in despite of sense and secrecy, Unpeg the basket on the house's top, Let the birds fly, and like the famous ape, To try conclusions, in the basket creep And break your own neck down There's letters seal'd; and my two schoolfellows, Whom I will trust as I will adders fang'd, They bear the mandate; they must sweep my way And marshal me to knavery Let it work; For 'tis the sport to have the enginer Hoist with his own petar; and 't shall go hard But I will delve one yard below their mines And blow them at the moon O Gertrude, come away! The sun no sooner shall the mountains touch But we will ship him hence; and this vile deed We must with all our majesty and skill Both countenance and excuse Hamlet in madness hath Polonius slain, And from his mother's closet hath he dragg'd him Come, Gertrude, we'll call up our wisest friends And let them know both what we mean to do And what's untimely done [So haply slander-] Whose whisper o'er the world's diameter, As level as the cannon to his blank, Transports his poisoned shot- may miss our name And hit the woundless air.- O, come away! My soul is full of discord and dismay The bark is ready and the wind at help, Th' associates tend, and everything is bent For England My mother! Father and mother is man and wife; man and wife is one flesh; and so, my mother if that his Majesty would aught with us, We shall express our duty in his eye; And let him know so [Exeunt all but Hamlet.] How all occasions do inform against me And spur my dull revenge! What is a man, If his chief good and market of his time Be but to sleep and feed? A beast, no more (sings) How should I your true-love know From another one? By his cockle bat and' staff And his sandal shoon But in battalions! First, her father slain; Next, Your son gone, and he most violent author Of his own just remove; the people muddied, Thick and and unwholesome in their thoughts and whispers For good Polonius' death, and we have done but greenly In hugger-mugger to inter him; Poor Ophelia Divided from herself and her fair-judgment, Without the which we are Pictures or mere beasts; Last, and as such containing as all these, Her brother is in secret come from France; And wants not buzzers to infect his ear Feeds on his wonder, keep, himself in clouds, With pestilent speeches of his father's death, Wherein necessity, of matter beggar'd, Will nothing stick Our person to arraign In ear and ear (sings) They bore him barefac'd on the bier (Hey non nony, nony, hey nony) And in his grave rain'd many a tear Go but apart, Make choice of whom your wisest friends you will, And they shall hear and judge 'twixt you and me The other motive Why to a public count I might not go Is the great love the general gender bear him, Who, dipping all his faults in their affection, Would, like the spring that turneth wood to stone, Convert his gives to graces; so that my arrows, Too slightly timber'd for so loud a wind, Would have reverted to my bow again, And not where I had aim'd them You must not think That we are made of stuff so flat and dull That we can let our beard be shook with danger, And think it pastime To-morrow shall I beg leave to see your kingly eyes; when I shall (first asking your pardon thereunto) recount the occasion of my sudden and more strange return If he be now return'd As checking at his voyage, and that he means No more to undertake it, I will work him To exploit now ripe in my device, Under the which he shall not choose but fall; And for his death no wind But even his mother shall uncharge the practice And call it accident A very riband in the cap of youth- Yet needfull too; for youth no less becomes The light and careless livery that it wears Thin settled age his sables and his weeds, Importing health and graveness Not that I think you did not love your father; But that I know love is begun by time, And that I see, in passages of proof, Time qualifies the spark and fire of it We'll put on those shall praise your excellence And set a double varnish on the fame The Frenchman gave you; bring you in fine together And wager on your heads Come, my spade! There is no ancient gentlemen but gard'ners, ditchers, and grave-makers It was the very day that young Hamlet was born- he that is mad, and sent into England No, faith, not a jot; but to follow him thither with modesty enough, and likelihood to lead it; as thus Yet here she is allow'd her virgin crants, Her maiden strewments, and the bringing home Of bell and burial [Scatters flowers.] I hop'd thou shouldst have been my Hamlet's wife; I thought thy bride-bed to have deck'd, sweet maid, And not have strew'd thy grave Dost thou come here to whine? To outface me with leaping in her grave? Be buried quick with her, and so will I Sir, his definement suffers no perdition in you; though, I know, to divide him inventorially would dozy th' arithmetic of memory, and yet but yaw neither in respect of his quick sail But on! Six Barbary horses against six French swords, their assigns, and three liberal-conceited carriages Let the foils be brought, the gentleman willing, and the King hold his purpose, I will win for him if I can; if not, I will gain nothing but my shame and the odd hits Enter King, Queen, Laertes, Osric, and Lords, with other Attendants with foils and gauntlets Sir, in this audience, Let my disclaiming from a purpos'd evil Free me so far in your most generous thoughts That I have shot my arrow o'er the house And hurt my brother But till that time I do receive your offer'd love like love, And will not wrong it Have at you now! [Laertes wounds Hamlet; then] in scuffling, they change rapiers, [and Hamlet wounds Laertes] Good night, sweet prince, And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest! [March within.] Why does the drum come hither? Enter Fortinbras and English Ambassadors, with Drum, Colours, and Attendants The ears are senseless that should give us bearing To tell him his commandment is fulfill'd That Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead Of that I shall have also cause to speak, And from his mouth whose voice will draw on more But let this same be presently perform'd, Even while men's minds are wild, lest more mischance On plots and errors happen Lords, Officers, Sheriff, Vintner, Chamberlain, Drawers, two Carriers, Travellers, and Attendants. Those opposed eyes Which, like the meteors of a troubled heaven, All of one nature, of one substance bred, Did lately meet in the intestine shock And furious close of civil butchery, Shall now in mutual well-beseeming ranks March all one way and be no more oppos'd Against acquaintance, kindred, and allies This, match'd with other, did, my gracious lord; For more uneven and unwelcome news Came from the North, and thus it did import Here is a dear, a true-industrious friend, Sir Walter Blunt, new lighted from his horse, Stain'd with the variation of each soil Betwixt that Holmedon and this seat of ours, And he hath brought us smooth and welcome news Of prisoners, Hotspur took Mordake Earl of Fife and eldest son To beaten Douglas, and the Earl of Athol, Of Murray, Angus, and Menteith O that it could be prov'd That some night-tripping fairy had exchang'd In cradle clothes our children where they lay, And call'd mine Percy, his Plantagenet! Then would I have his Harry, and he mine What a devil hast thou to do with the time of the day, Unless hours were cups of sack, and minutes capons, and clocks the tongues of bawds, and dials the signs of leaping houses, and the blessed sun himself a fair hot wench in flame-coloured taffeta, I see no reason why thou shouldst be so superfluous to demand the time of the day Indeed you come near me now, Hal; for we that take purses go by the moon And the seven stars, and not by Phoebus, he, that wand'ring knight so fair 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 Yea, but 'tis like that they will know us by our horses, by our habits, and by every other appointment, to be ourselves how thirty, at least, he fought with; what wards, what blows, what extremities he endured; and in the reproof of this lies the jest If all the year were playing holidays, To sport would be as tedious as to work; But when they seldom come, they wish'd-for come, And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents But I remember, when the fight was done, When I was dry with rage and extreme toll, Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword, Came there a certain lord, neat and trimly dress'd, Fresh as a bridegroom; and his chin new reap'd Show'd like a stubble land at harvest home He was perfumed like a milliner, And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held A pouncet box, which ever and anon He gave his nose, and took't away again; Who therewith angry, when it next came there, Took it in snuff; and still he smil'd and talk'd; And as the soldiers bore dead bodies by, He call'd them untaught knaves, unmannerly, To bring a slovenly unhandsome corse Betwixt the wind and his nobility This bald unjointed chat of his, my lord, I answered indirectly, as I said, And I beseech you, let not his report Come current for an accusation Betwixt my love and your high majesty Never did base and rotten policy Colour her working with such deadly wounds; Nor never could the noble Mortimer Receive so many, and all willingly Speak of Mortimer? Zounds, I will speak of him, and let my soul Want mercy if I do not join with him! Yea, on his part I'll empty all these veins, And shed my dear blood drop by drop in the dust, But I will lift the downtrod Mortimer As high in the air as this unthankful king, As this ingrate and cank'red Bolingbroke And then it was when the unhappy King (Whose wrongs in us God pardon!) did set forth Upon his Irish expedition; From whence he intercepted did return To be depos'd, and shortly murdered And for whose death we in the world's wide mouth Live scandaliz'd and foully spoken of If he fall in, good night, or sink or swim! Send danger from the east unto the west, So honour cross it from the north to south, And let them grapple O, let the hours be short Till fields and blows and groans applaud our sport! Exeunt. Why, they will allow us ne'er a jordan, and then we leak in your chimney, and your chamber-lye breeds fleas like a loach What talkest thou to me of the hangman? If I hang, I'll make a fat pair of gallows; for if I hang, old Sir John hangs with me, and thou knowest he is no starveling I am joined with no foot land-rakers, no long-staff sixpenny strikers, none of these mad mustachio purple-hued maltworms; but with nobility, and tranquillity, burgomasters and great oneyers, such as can hold in, such as will strike sooner than speak, and speak sooner than drink, and drink sooner than pray; and yet, zounds, I lie; for they pray continually to their saint, the commonwealth, or rather, not pray to her, but prey on her, for they ride up and down on her and make her their boots An I have not ballads made on you all, and sung to filthy tunes, let a cup of sack be my poison The boy shall lead our horses down the hill; We'll walk afoot awhile and ease our legs You are grandjurors, are ye? We'll jure ye, faith! Here they rob and bind them Now could thou and I rob the thieves and go merrily to London, it would be argument for a week, laughter for a month, and a good jest for ever What a lack-brain is this! By the Lord, our plot is a good plot as ever was laid; our friends true and constant O my good lord, why are you thus alone? For what offence have I this fortnight been A banish'd woman from my Harry's bed, Tell me, sweet lord, what is't that takes from thee Thy stomach, pleasure, and thy golden sleep? Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth, And start so often when thou sit'st alone? Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks And given my treasures and my rights of thee To thick-ey'd musing and curs'd melancholy? In thy faint slumbers I by thee have watch'd, And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars, Speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed, Cry 'Courage! to the field!' And thou hast talk'd Of sallies and retires, of trenches, tent, Of palisadoes, frontiers, parapets, Of basilisks, of cannon, culverin, Of prisoners' ransom, and of soldiers slain, And all the currents of a heady fight O, what portents are these? Some heavy business hath my lord in hand, And I must know it, else he loves me not I know you wise; but yet no farther wise Than Harry Percy's wife; constant you are, But yet a woman; and for secrecy, No lady closer, for I well believe Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know, And so far will I trust thee, gentle Kate There lives not three good men unhang'd in England; and one of them is fat, and grows old What's the matter? There be four of us here have ta'en a thousand pound this day morning A plague of all cowards! Let them speak, If they speak more or less than truth, they are villains and the sons of darkness 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 But, as the devil would have it, three misbegotten knaves in Kendal green came at my back and let drive at me; for it was so dark, Hal, that thou couldst not see thy hand And, Falstaff, you carried your guts away as nimbly, with as quick dexterity, and roar'd for mercy, and still run and roar'd, as ever I heard bullcalf I shall think the better of myself, and thee, during my life- I for a valiant lion, and thou for a true prince Why, he hack'd it with his dagger, and said he would swear truth out of England but he would make you believe it was done in fight, and persuaded us to do the like Worcester is stol'n away to-night; thy father's beard is turn'd white with the news; you may buy land now as cheap as stinking mack'rel Give me a cup of sack to make my eyes look red, that it may be thought I have wept; for I must speak in passion, and I will do it in King Cambyses' vein And, sheriff, I will engage my word to thee That I will by to-morrow dinner time Send him to answer thee, or any man, For anything he shall be charg'd withal; And so let me entreat you leave the house I'll procure this fat rogue a charge of foot; and I know, his death will be a march of twelve score Diseased nature oftentimes breaks forth In strange eruptions; oft the teeming earth Is with a kind of colic pinch'd and vex'd By the imprisoning of unruly wind Within her womb, which, for enlargement striving, Shakes the old beldame earth and topples down Steeples and mossgrown towers Where is he living, clipp'd in with the sea That chides the banks of England, Scotland, Wales, Which calls me pupil or hath read to me? And bring him out that is but woman's son Can trace me in the tedious ways of art And hold me pace in deep experiments If thou have power to raise him, bring him hither, And I'll be sworn I have power to shame him hence Three times hath Henry Bolingbroke made head Against my power; thrice from the banks of Wye And sandy-bottom'd Severn have I sent him Bootless home and weather-beaten back [To Glend.] Within that space you may have drawn together Your tenants, friends, and neighbouring gentlemen A shorter time shall send me to you, lords; And in my conduct shall your ladies come, From whom you now must steal and take no leave, For there will be a world of water shed Upon the parting of your wives and you I'll have the current ill this place damm'd up, And here the smug and sliver Trent shall run In a new channel fair and evenly Yea, but a little charge will trench him here And on this north side win this cape of land; And then he runs straight and even I warrant you that man is not alive Might so have tempted him as you have done Without the taste of danger and reproof Do so, And those musicians that shall play to you Hang in the air a thousand leagues from hence, And straight they shall be here Swear me, Kate, like a lady as thou art, A good mouth-filling oath; and leave 'in sooth' And such protest of pepper gingerbread To velvet guards and Sunday citizens Yet such extenuation let me beg As, in reproof of many tales devis'd, Which oft the ear of greatness needs must bear By, smiling pickthanks and base newsmongers, I may, for some things true wherein my youth Hath faulty wand'red and irregular, And pardon on lily true submission Thy place in Council thou hast rudely lost, Which by thy younger brother is supplied, And art almost an alien to the hearts Of all the court and princes of my blood Thus did I keep my person fresh and new, My presence, like a robe pontifical, Ne'er seen but wond'red at; and so my state, Seldom but sumptuous, show'd like a feast And won by rareness such solemnity 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 For all the world, As thou art to this hour, was Richard then When I from France set foot at Ravenspurgh; And even as I was then is Percy now Now, by my sceptre, and my soul to boot, He hath more worthy interest to the state Than thou, the shadow of succession; For of no right, nor colour like to right, He doth fill fields with harness in the realm, Turns head against the lion's armed jaws, And, Being no more in debt to years than thou, Leads ancient lords and reverend Bishops on To bloody battles and to bruising arms Thrice hath this Hotspur, Mars in swathling clothes, This infant warrior, in his enterprises Discomfited great Douglas; ta'en him once, Enlarged him, and made a friend of him, To fill the mouth of deep defiance up And shake the peace and safety of our throne And what say you to this? Percy, Northumberland, The Archbishop's Grace of York, Douglas, Mortimer Capitulate against us and are up And that shall be the day, whene'er it lights, That this same child of honour and renown, This gallant Hotspur, this all-praised knight, And your unthought of Harry chance to meet A hundred thousand rebels die in this! Thou shalt have charge and sovereign trust herein swore little, dic'd not above seven times a week, went to a bawdy house not above once in a quarter- of an hour, paid money that I borrowed- three or four times, lived well, and in good compass; and now I live out of all order, out of all compass O, thou art a perpetual triumph, an everlasting bonfire-light! Thou hast saved me a thousand marks in links and torches, walking with thee in the night betwixt tavern and tavern; but the sack that thou hast drunk me would have bought me lights as good cheap at the dearest chandler's in Europe I have maintained that salamander of yours with fire any time this two-and-thirty years Why, Sir John, what do you think, Sir John? Do you think I keep thieves in my house? I have search'd, I have enquired, so has my husband, man by man, boy by boy, servant by servant You owe money here besides, Sir John, for your diet and by-drinkings, and money lent you, four-and-twenty pound What, will you make a younker of me? Shall I not take mine ease in mine inn but I shall have my pocket pick'd? I have lost a seal-ring of my grandfather's worth forty mark Wilt thou believe me, Hal? Three or four bonds of forty pound apiece and a seal-ring of my grandfather's So I told him, my lord, and I said I heard your Grace say so; and, my lord, he speaks most vilely of you, like a foul-mouth'd man as he is, and said he would cudgel you Go bear this letter to Lord John of Lancaster, To my brother John; this to my Lord of Westmoreland And think how such an apprehension May turn the tide of fearful faction And breed a kind of question in our cause 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 They come like sacrifices in their trim, And to the fire-ey'd maid of smoky war All hot and bleeding Will we offer them Harry to Harry shall, hot horse to horse, Meet, and ne'er part till one drop down a corse I press'd me none but such toasts-and-butter, with hearts in their bellies no bigger than pins' heads, and they have bought out their services; and now my whole charge consists of ancients, corporals, lieutenants, gentlemen of companies- slaves as ragged as Lazarus in the painted cloth, where the glutton's dogs licked his sores; and such as indeed were never soldiers, but discarded unjust serving-men, younger sons to Younger brothers, revolted tapsters, and ostlers trade-fall'n; the cankers of a calm world and a long peace; ten times more dishonourable ragged than an old fac'd ancient; and such have I to fill up the rooms of them that have bought out their services that you would think that I had a hundred and fifty tattered Prodigals lately come from swine-keeping, from eating draff and husks What, Hal? How now, mad wag? What a devil dost thou in Warwickshire? My good Lord of Westmoreland, I cry you mercy Well, To the latter end of a fray and the beginning of a feast Fits a dull fighter and a keen guest Welcome, Sir Walter Blunt, and would to God You were of our determination! Some of us love you well; and even those some Envy your great deservings and good name, Because you are not of our quality, But stand against us like an enemy My father and my uncle and myself Did give him that same royalty he wears; And when he was not six-and-twenty strong, Sick in the world's regard, wretched and low, A poor unminded outlaw sneaking home, My father gave him welcome to the shore; And when he heard him swear and vow to God He came but to be Duke of Lancaster, To sue his livery and beg his peace, With tears of innocency and terms of zeal, My father, in kind heart and pity mov'd, Swore him assistance, and performed it too Go to the King; and let there be impawn'd Some surety for a safe return again, And In the morning early shall mine uncle Bring him our purposes; and so farewell And so there is; but yet the King hath drawn The special head of all the land together- The Prince of Wales, Lord John of Lancaster, The noble Westmoreland and warlike Blunt, And many moe corrivals and dear men Of estimation and command in arms I hope no less, yet needful 'tis to fear; And, to prevent the worst, Sir Michael, speed For if Lord Percy thrive not, ere the King Dismiss his power, he means to visit us, For he hath heard of our confederacy, And 'tis but wisdom to make strong against him The southern wind Doth play the trumpet to his purposes And by his hollow whistling in the leaves Foretells a tempest and a blust'ring day It pleas'd your Majesty to turn your looks Of favour from myself and all our house; And yet I must remember you, my lord, We were the first and dearest of your friends For you my staff of office did I break In Richard's time, and posted day and night To meet you on the way and kiss your hand When yet you were in place and in account Nothing so strong and fortunate as I And never yet did insurrection want Such water colours to impaint his cause, Nor moody beggars, starving for a time Of pell-mell havoc and confusion For my part, I may speak it to my shame, I have a truant been to chivalry; And so I hear he doth account me too No, good Worcester, no! We love our people well; even those we love That are misled upon your cousin's part; And, will they take the offer of our grace, Both he, and they, and you, yea, every man Shall be my friend again, and I'll be his But if he will not yield, Rebuke and dread correction wait on us, And they shall do their office The Prince of Wales stepp'd forth before the King And, nephew, challeng'd you to single fight I never in my life Did hear a challenge urg'd more modestly, Unless a brother should a brother dare To gentle exercise and proof of arms He gave you all the duties of a man; Trimm'd up your praises with a princely tongue; Spoke your deservings like a chronicle; Making you ever better than his praise By still dispraising praise valued with you; And, which became him like a prince indeed, He made a blushing cital of himself, And chid his truant youth with such a grace As if lie mast'red there a double spirit Of teaching and of learning instantly There's honour for you! Here's no vanity! I am as hot as molten lead, and as heavy too Give me life; which if I can save, so; if not, honour comes unlook'd for, and there's an end The King himself, who, Douglas, grieves at heart So many of his shadows thou hast met, And not the very King How fares your Grace? Sir Nicholas Gawsey hath for succour sent, And so hath Clifton If it were so, I might have let alone The insulting hand of Douglas over you, Which would have been as speedy in your end As all the poisonous potions in the world, And sav'd the treacherous labour of your son Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere, Nor can one England brook a double reign Of Harry Percy and the Prince of Wales I'll make it greater ere I part from thee, And all the budding honours on thy crest I'll crop to make a garland for my head Embowell'd? If thou embowel me to-day, I'll give you leave to powder me and eat me too to-morrow He that rewards me, God reward him! If I do grow great, I'll grow less; for I'll purge, and leave sack, and live cleanly, as a nobleman should do [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 The times are wild; contention, like a horse Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose And bears down all before him O, such a day, So fought, so followed, and so fairly won, Came not till now to dignify the times, Since Cxsar's fortunes! NORTHUMBERLAND How doth my son and brother? Thou tremblest; and the whiteness in thy cheek Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless, So dull, so dread in look, so woe-begone, Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night And would have told him half his Troy was burnt; But Priam found the fire ere he his tongue, And I my Percy's death ere thou report'st it Yet speak, Morton; Tell thou an earl his divination lies, And I will take it as a sweet disgrace And make thee rich for doing me such wrong In few, his death- whose spirit lent a fire Even to the dullest peasant in his camp- Being bruited once, took fire and heat away From the best-temper'd courage in his troops; For from his metal was his party steeled; Which once in him abated, an the rest Turn'd on themselves, like dull and heavy lead The sum of all Is that the King hath won, and hath sent out A speedy power to encounter you, my lord, Under the conduct of young Lancaster And Westmoreland We all that are engaged to this loss Knew that we ventured on such dangerous seas That if we wrought out life 'twas ten to one; And yet we ventur'd, for the gain propos'd Chok'd the respect of likely peril fear'd; And since we are o'erset, venture again Suppos'd sincere and holy in his thoughts, He's follow'd both with body and with mind; And doth enlarge his rising with the blood Of fair King Richard, scrap'd from Pomfret stones; Derives from heaven his quarrel and his cause; Tells them he doth bestride a bleeding land, Gasping for life under great Bolingbroke; And more and less do flock to follow him Get posts and letters, and make friends with speed- Never so few, and never yet more need Let him be damn'd, like the Glutton; pray God his tongue be hotter! A whoreson Achitophel! A rascal-yea-forsooth knave, to bear a gentleman in hand, and then stand upon security! The whoreson smooth-pates do now wear nothing but high shoes, and bunches of keys at their girdles; and if a man is through with them in honest taking-up, then they must stand upon security I look'd 'a should have sent me two and twenty yards of satin, as I am a true knight, and he sends me security To punish you by the heels would amend the attention of your ears; and I care not if I do become your physician As I was then advis'd by my learned counsel in the laws of this land-service, I did not come My lord, I was born about three of the clock in the afternoon, with a white head and something a round belly The truth is, I am only old in judgment and understanding; and he that will caper with me for a thousand marks, let him lend me the money, and have at him For the box of the ear that the Prince gave you- he gave it like a rude prince, and you took it like a sensible lord I have check'd him for it; and the young lion repents- marry, not in ashes and sackcloth, but in new silk and old sack I hear you are going with Lord John of Lancaster against the Archbishop and the Earl of Northumberland 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 A man can no more separate age and covetousness than 'a can part young limbs and lechery; but the gout galls the one, and the pox pinches the other; and so both the degrees prevent my curses 'Tis no matter if I do halt; I have the wars for my colour, and my pension shall seem the more reasonable I well allow the occasion of our amis; But gladly would be better satisfied How, in our means, we should advance ourselves To look with forehead bold and big enough Upon the power and puissance of the King It was, my lord; who lin'd himself with hope, Eating the air and promise of supply, Flatt'ring himself in project of a power Much smaller than the smallest of his thoughts; And so, with great imagination Proper to madmen, led his powers to death, And, winking, leapt into destruction When we mean to build, We first survey the plot, then draw the model; And when we see the figure of the house, Then we must rate the cost of the erection; Which if we find outweighs ability, What do we then but draw anew the model In fewer offices, or at least desist To build at all? Much more, in this great work- Which is almost to pluck a kingdom down And set another up- should we survey The plot of situation and the model, Consent upon a sure foundation, Question surveyors, know our own estate How able such a work to undergo- To weigh against his opposite; or else We fortify in paper and in figures, Using the names of men instead of men; Like one that draws the model of a house Beyond his power to build it; who, half through, Gives o'er and leaves his part-created cost A naked subject to the weeping clouds And waste for churlish winter's tyranny So is the unfirm King In three divided; and his coffers sound With hollow poverty and emptiness So, so, thou common dog, didst thou disgorge Thy glutton bosom of the royal Richard; And now thou wouldst eat thy dead vomit up, And howl'st to find it Thou that threw'st dust upon his goodly head, When through proud London he came sighing on After th' admired heels of Bolingbroke, Criest now 'O earth, yield us that king again, And take thou this!' O thoughts of men accurs'd! Past and to come seems best; things present, worst Alas the day! take heed of him; he stabb'd me in mine own house, and that most beastly Wilt thou? wilt thou? thou bastardly rogue! Murder, murder! Ah, thou honeysuckle villain! wilt thou kill God's officers and the King's? Ah, thou honey-seed rogue! thou art a honey-seed; a man-queller and a woman-queller O My most worshipful lord, an't please your Grace, I am a poor widow of Eastcheap, and he is arrested at my suit You have, as it appears to me, practis'd upon the easy yielding spirit of this woman, and made her serve your uses both in purse and in person 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 You call honourable boldness impudent sauciness; if a man will make curtsy and say nothing, he is virtuous You speak as having power to do wrong; but answer in th' effect of your reputation, and satisfy the poor woman By this heavenly ground I tread on, I must be fain to pawn both my plate and the tapestry of my dining-chambers Glasses, glasses, is the only drinking; and for thy walls, a pretty slight drollery, or the story of the Prodigal, or the German hunting, in water-work, is worth a thousand of these bed-hangers and these fly-bitten tapestries No; fifteen hundred foot, five hundred horse, Are march'd up to my Lord of Lancaster, Against Northumberland and the Archbishop What a disgrace is it to me to remember thy name, or to know thy face to-morrow, or to take note how many pair of silk stockings thou hast- viz., these, and those that were thy peach-colour'd ones- or to bear the inventory of thy shirts- as, one for superfluity, and another for use! But that the tennis-court-keeper knows better than I; for it is a low ebb of linen with thee when thou keepest not racket there; as thou hast not done a great while, because the rest of thy low countries have made a shift to eat up thy holland Marry, I tell thee it is not meet that I should be sad, now my father is sick; albeit I could tell to thee- as to one it pleases me, for fault of a better, to call my friend- I could be sad and sad indeed too By this hand, thou thinkest me as far in the devil's book as thou and Falstaff for obduracy and persistency At last I spied his eyes; and methought he had made two holes in the alewife's new petticoat, and so peep'd through Marry, my lord, Althaea dreamt she was delivered of a firebrand; and therefore I call him her dream I do allow this well to be as familiar with me as my dog; and he holds his place, for look you how he writes Well, thus we play the fools with the time, and the spirits of the wise sit in the clouds and mock us Before the castle Enter NORTHUMBERLAND, LADY NORTHUMBERLAND, and LADY PERCY NORTHUMBERLAND I pray thee, loving wife, and gentle daughter, Give even way unto my rough affairs; Put not you on the visage of the times And be, like them, to Percy troublesome Who then persuaded you to stay at home? There were two honours lost, yours and your son's But I must go and meet with danger there, Or it will seek me in another place, And find me worse provided So did your son; He was so suff'red; so came I a widow; And never shall have length of life enough To rain upon remembrance with mine eyes, That it may grow and sprout as high as heaven, For recordation to my noble husband 'Tis with my mind As with the tide swell'd up unto his height, That makes a still-stand, running neither way Hang him, swaggering rascal! Let him not come hither; it is the foul-mouth'dst rogue in England You a captain! you slave, for what? For tearing a poor whore's ruff in a bawdy-house? He a captain! hang him, rogue! He lives upon mouldy stew'd prunes and dried cakes 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 These be good humours, indeed! Shall packhorses, And hollow pamper'd jades of Asia, Which cannot go but thirty mile a day, Compare with Caesars, and with Cannibals, And Troiant Greeks? Nay, rather damn them with King Cerberus; and let the welkin roar Here's a goodly tumult! I'll forswear keeping house afore I'll be in these tirrits and frights Thou whoreson mad compound of majesty, by this light flesh and corrupt blood, thou art welcome The King your father is at Westminster; And there are twenty weak and wearied posts Come from the north; and as I came along I met and overtook a dozen captains, Bare-headed, sweating, knocking at the taverns, And asking every one for Sir John Falstaff By heaven, Poins, I feel me much to blame So idly to profane the precious time, When tempest of commotion, like the south, Borne with black vapour, doth begin to melt And drop upon our bare unarmed heads Now comes in the sweetest morsel of the night, and we must hence, and leave it unpick'd Go call the Earls of Surrey and of Warwick; But, ere they come, bid them o'er-read these letters And well consider of them 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 O God! that one might read the book of fate, And see the revolution of the times Make mountains level, and the continent, Weary of solid firmness, melt itself Into the sea; and other times to see The beachy girdle of the ocean Too wide for Neptune's hips; how chances mock, And changes fill the cup of alteration With divers liquors! O, if this were seen, The happiest youth, viewing his progress through, What perils past, what crosses to ensue, Would shut the book and sit him down and die But which of you was by- [To WARWICK] You, cousin Nevil, as I may remember- When Richard, with his eye brim full of tears, Then check'd and rated by Northumberland, Did speak these words, now prov'd a prophecy? 'Northumberland, thou ladder by the which My cousin Bolingbroke ascends my throne'- Though then, God knows, I had no such intent But that necessity so bow'd the state That I and greatness were compell'd to kiss- 'The time shall come'- thus did he follow it- 'The time will come that foul sin, gathering head, Shall break into corruption' so went on, Foretelling this same time's condition And the division of our amity There is a history in all men's lives, Figuring the natures of the times deceas'd; The which observ'd, a man may prophesy, With a near aim, of the main chance of things As yet not come to life, who in their seeds And weak beginning lie intreasured Are these things then necessities? Then let us meet them like necessities; And that same word even now cries out on us And, were these inward wars once out of hand, We would, dear lords, unto the Holy Land By the mass, I was call'd anything; and I would have done anything indeed too, and roundly too And I may say to you we knew where the bona-robas were, and had the best of them all at commandment Then was Jack Falstaff, now Sir John, boy, and page to Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk Dead! 'A would have clapp'd i' th' clout at twelve score, and carried you a forehand shaft a fourteen and fourteen and a half, that it would have done a man's heart good to see I am Robert Shallow, sir, a poor esquire of this county, and one of the King's justices of the peace 'Phrase' call you it? By this day, I know not the phrase; but I will maintain the word with my sword to be a soldier-like word, and a word of exceeding good command, by heaven It were superfluous; for his apparel is built upon his back, and the whole frame stands upon pins She has nobody to do anything about her when I am gone; and she is old, and cannot help herself 'A shall charge you and discharge you with the motion of a pewterer's hammer, come off and on swifter than he that gibbets on the brewer's bucket And, for a retreat- how swiftly will this Feeble, the woman's tailor, run off! O, give me the spare men, and spare me the great ones I remember at Mile-end Green, when I lay at Clement's Inn- I was then Sir Dagonet in Arthur's show- there was a little quiver fellow, and 'a would manage you his piece thus; and 'a would about and about, and come you in and come you in 'Rah, tah, tah!' would 'a say; 'Bounce!' would 'a say; and away again would 'a go, and again would 'a come 'A was the very genius of famine; yet lecherous as a monkey, and the whores call'd him mandrake I saw it, and told John a Gaunt he beat his own name; for you might have thrust him and all his apparel into an eel-skin; the case of a treble hautboy was a mansion for him, a court- and now has he land and beeves My friends and brethren in these great affairs, I must acquaint you that I have receiv'd New-dated letters from Northumberland; Their cold intent, tenour, and substance, thus Here doth he wish his person, with such powers As might hold sortance with his quality, The which he could not levy; whereupon He is retir'd, to ripe his growing fortunes, To Scotland; and concludes in hearty prayers That your attempts may overlive the hazard And fearful meeting of their opposite West of this forest, scarcely off a mile, In goodly form comes on the enemy; And, by the ground they hide, I judge their number Upon or near the rate of thirty thousand Health and fair greeting from our general, The Prince, Lord John and Duke of Lancaster I have in equal balance justly weigh'd What wrongs our arms may do, what wrongs we suffer, And find our griefs heavier than our offences We see which way the stream of time doth run And are enforc'd from our most quiet there By the rough torrent of occasion; And have the summary of all our griefs, When time shall serve, to show in articles; Which long ere this we offer'd to the King, And might by no suit gain our audience The dangers of the days but newly gone, Whose memory is written on the earth With yet appearing blood, and the examples Of every minute's instance, present now, Hath put us in these ill-beseeming arms; Not to break peace, or any branch of it, But to establish here a peace indeed, Concurring both in name and quality Why not to him in part, and to us all That feel the bruises of the days before, And suffer the condition of these times To lay a heavy and unequal hand Upon our honours? WESTMORELAND O my good Lord Mowbray, Construe the times to their necessities, And you shall say, indeed, it is the time, And not the King, that doth you injuries Who knows on whom fortune would then have smil'd? But if your father had been victor there, He ne'er had borne it out of Coventry; For all the country, in a general voice, Cried hate upon him; and all their prayers and love Were set on Hereford, whom they doted on, And bless'd and grac'd indeed more than the King Hath the Prince John a full commission, In very ample virtue of his father, To hear and absolutely to determine Of what conditions we shall stand upon? WESTMORELAND Each several article herein redress'd, All members of our cause, both here and hence, That are insinewed to this action, Acquitted by a true substantial form, And present execution of our wills To us and to our purposes confin'd- We come within our awful banks again, And knit our powers to the arm of peace if we can make our peace Upon such large terms and so absolute As our conditions shall consist upon, Our peace shall stand as firm as rocky mountains Yea, but our valuation shall be such That every slight and false-derived cause, Yea, every idle, nice, and wanton reason, Shall to the King taste of this action; That, were our royal faiths martyrs in love, We shall be winnow'd with so rough a wind That even our corn shall seem as light as chaff, And good from bad find no partition His foes are so enrooted with his friends That, plucking to unfix an enemy, He doth unfasten so and shake a friend My Lord of York, it better show'd with you When that your flock, assembled by the bell, Encircled you to hear with reverence Your exposition on the holy text Than now to see you here an iron man, Cheering a rout of rebels with your drum, Turning the word to sword, and life to death Who hath not heard it spoken How deep you were within the books of God? To us the speaker in His parliament, To us th' imagin'd voice of God himself, The very opener and intelligencer Between the grace, the sanctities of heaven, And our dull workings If they miscarry, theirs shall second them; And so success of mischief shall be born, And heir from heir shall hold this quarrel up Whiles England shall have generation I like them all and do allow them well; And swear here, by the honour of my blood, My father's purposes have been mistook; And some about him have too lavishly Wrested his meaning and authority If this may please you, Discharge your powers unto their several counties, As we will ours; and here, between the armies, Let's drink together friendly and embrace, That all their eyes may bear those tokens home Of our restored love and amity A peace is of the nature of a conquest; For then both parties nobly are subdu'd, And neither party loser Like youthful steers unyok'd, they take their courses East, west, north, south; or like a school broke up, Each hurries toward his home and sporting-place Most shallowly did you these arms commence, Fondly brought here, and foolishly sent hence Some guard these traitors to the block of death, Treason's true bed and yielder-up of breath Do you yield, sir, or shall I sweat for you? If I do sweat, they are the drops of thy lovers, and they weep for thy death; therefore rouse up fear and trembling, and do observance to my mercy I have a whole school of tongues in this belly of mine; and not a tongue of them all speaks any other word but my name Do you think me a swallow, an arrow, or a bullet? Have I, in my poor and old motion, the expedition of thought? I have speeded hither with the very extremest inch of possibility; I have found'red nine score and odd posts; and here, travel tainted as I am, have, in my pure and immaculate valour, taken Sir John Colville of the Dale,a most furious knight and valorous enemy But what of that? He saw me, and yielded; that I may justly say with the hook-nos'd fellow of Rome-I came, saw, and overcame 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 There's never none of these demure boys come to any proof; for thin drink doth so over-cool their blood, and making many fish-meals, that they fall into a kind of male green-sickness; and then, when they marry, they get wenches The second property of your excellent sherris is the warming of the blood; which before, cold and settled, left the liver white and pale, which is the badge of pusillanimity and cowardice; but the sherris warms it, and makes it course from the inwards to the parts extremes It illumineth the face, which, as a beacon, gives warning to all the rest of this little kingdom, man, to arm; and then the vital commoners and inland petty spirits muster me all to their captain, the heart, who, great and puff'd up with this retinue, doth any deed of courage- and this valour comes of sherris So that skill in the weapon is nothing without sack, for that sets it a-work; and learning, a mere hoard of gold kept by a devil till sack commences it and sets it in act and use Hereof comes it that Prince Harry is valiant; for the cold blood he did naturally inherit of his father, he hath, like lean, sterile, and bare land, manured, husbanded, and till'd, with excellent endeavour of drinking good and good store of fertile sherris, that he is become very hot and valiant If I had a thousand sons, the first humane principle I would teach them should be to forswear thin potations and to addict themselves to sack Now, lords, if God doth give successful end To this debate that bleedeth at our doors, We will our youth lead on to higher fields, And draw no swords but what are sanctified Our navy is address'd, our power connected, Our substitutes in absence well invested, And everything lies level to our wish How chance thou art not with the Prince thy brother? He loves thee, and thou dost neglect him, Thomas Thou hast a better place in his affection Than all thy brothers; cherish it, my boy, And noble offices thou mayst effect Of mediation, after I am dead, Between his greatness and thy other brethren The Prince but studies his companions Like a strange tongue, wherein, to gain the language, 'Tis needful that the most immodest word Be look'd upon and learnt; which once attain'd, Your Highness knows, comes to no further use But to be known and hated Health to my sovereign, and new happiness Added to that that am to deliver! Prince John, your son, doth kiss your Grace's hand And wherefore should these good news make me sick? Will Fortune never come with both hands full, But write her fair words still in foulest letters? She either gives a stomach and no food- Such are the poor, in health- or else a feast, And takes away the stomach- such are the rich That have abundance and enjoy it not I should rejoice now at this happy news; And now my sight fails, and my brain is giddy Th' incessant care and labour of his mind Hath wrought the mure that should confine it in So thin that life looks through, and will break out The seasons change their manners, as the year Had found some months asleep, and leapt them over The river hath thrice flow'd, no ebb between; And the old folk, Time's doting chronicles, Say it did so a little time before That our great grandsire, Edward, sick'd and died There is your crown, And he that wears the crown immortally Long guard it yours! [Kneeling] If I affect it more Than as your honour and as your renown, Let me no more from this obedience rise, Which my most inward true and duteous spirit Teacheth this prostrate and exterior bending! God witness with me, when I here came in And found no course of breath within your Majesty, How cold it struck my heart! If I do feign, O, let me in my present wildness die, And never live to show th' incredulous world The noble change that I have purposed! Coming to look on you, thinking you dead- And dead almost, my liege, to think you were- I spake unto this crown as having sense, And thus upbraided it And now my death Changes the mood; for what in me was purchas'd Falls upon thee in a more fairer sort; So thou the garland wear'st successively It hath been prophesied to me many years, I should not die but in Jerusalem; Which vainly I suppos'd the Holy Land It is a wonderful thing to see the semblable coherence of his men's spirits and his If I had a suit to Master Shallow, I would humour his men with the imputation of being near their master; if to his men, I would curry with Master Shallow that no man could better command his servants Sweet Princes, what I did, I did in honour, Led by th' impartial conduct of my soul; And never shall you see that I will beg A ragged and forestall'd remission If truth and upright innocency fail me, I'll to the King my master that is dead, And tell him who hath sent me after him Sorrow so royally in you appears That I will deeply put the fashion on, And wear it in my heart I then did use the person of your father; The image of his power lay then in me; And in th' administration of his law, Whiles I was busy for the commonwealth, Your Highness pleased to forget my place, The majesty and power of law and justice, The image of the King whom I presented, And struck me in my very seat of judgment; Whereon, as an offender to your father, I gave bold way to my authority And did commit you If the deed were ill, Be you contented, wearing now the garland, To have a son set your decrees at nought, To pluck down justice from your awful bench, To trip the course of law, and blunt the sword That guards the peace and safety of your person; Nay, more, to spurn at your most royal image, And mock your workings in a second body Question your royal thoughts, make the case yours; Be now the father, and propose a son; Hear your own dignity so much profan'd, See your most dreadful laws so loosely slighted, Behold yourself so by a son disdain'd; And then imagine me taking your part And, in your power, soft silencing your son You are right, Justice, and you weigh this well; Therefore still bear the balance and the sword; And I do wish your honours may increase Till you do live to see a son of mine Offend you, and obey you, as I did Now doth it turn and ebb back to the sea, Where it shall mingle with the state of floods, And flow henceforth in formal majesty Now call we our high court of parliament; And let us choose such limbs of noble counsel, That the great body of our state may go In equal rank with the best govern'd nation; That war, or peace, or both at once, may be As things acquainted and familiar to us; In which you, father, shall have foremost hand Nay, you shall see my orchard, where, in an arbour, we will eat a last year's pippin of mine own graffing, with a dish of caraways, and so forth Ah, sirrah! quoth-a- we shall [Singing] Do nothing but eat and make good cheer, And praise God for the merry year; When flesh is cheap and females dear, And lusty lads roam here and there, So merrily, And ever among so merrily [Singing] Be merry, be merry, my wife has all; For women are shrews, both short and tall; 'Tis merry in hall when beards wag an; And welcome merry Shrove-tide [Singing] A cup of wine that's brisk and fine, And drink unto the leman mine; And a merry heart lives long-a Puff! Puff in thy teeth, most recreant coward base! Sir John, I am thy Pistol and thy friend, And helter-skelter have I rode to thee; And tidings do I bring, and lucky joys, And golden times, and happy news of price Come, I charge you both go with me; for the man is dead that you and Pistol beat amongst you [To SHALLOW] O, if I had had to have made new liveries, I would have bestowed the thousand pound I borrowed of you Thy Doll, and Helen of thy noble thoughts, Is in base durance and contagious prison; Hal'd thither By most mechanical and dirty hand When thou dost hear I am as I have been, Approach me, and thou shalt be as thou wast, The tutor and the feeder of my riots He hath intent his wonted followers Shall all be very well provided for; But all are banish'd till their conversations Appear more wise and modest to the world If it pass against us, We lose the better half of our possession; For all the temporal lands which men devout By testament have given to the church Would they strip from us; being valu'd thus- As much as would maintain, to the King's honour, Full fifteen earls and fifteen hundred knights, Six thousand and two hundred good esquires; And, to relief of lazars and weak age, Of indigent faint souls, past corporal toil, A hundred alms-houses right well supplied; And to the coffers of the King, beside, A thousand pounds by th' year The breath no sooner left his father's body But that his wildness, mortified in him, Seem'd to die too; yea, at that very moment, Consideration like an angel came And whipp'd th' offending Adam out of him, Leaving his body as a paradise T'envelop and contain celestial spirits Turn him to any cause of policy, The Gordian knot of it he will unloose, Familiar as his garter; that, when he speaks, The air, a charter'd libertine, is still, And the mute wonder lurketh in men's ears To steal his sweet and honey'd sentences; So that the art and practic part of life Must be the mistress to this theoric; Which is a wonder how his Grace should glean it, Since his addiction was to courses vain, His companies unletter'd, rude, and shallow, His hours fill'd up with riots, banquets, sports; And never noted in him any study, Any retirement, any sequestration From open haunts and popularity With good acceptance of his Majesty; Save that there was not time enough to hear, As I perceiv'd his Grace would fain have done, The severals and unhidden passages Of his true tides to some certain dukedoms, And generally to the crown and seat of France, Deriv'd from Edward, his great-grandfather Not yet, my cousin; we would be resolv'd, Before we hear him, of some things of weight That task our thoughts, concerning us and France 'In terram Salicam mulieres ne succedant'- 'No woman shall succeed in Salique land'; Which Salique land the French unjustly gloze To be the realm of France, and Pharamond The founder of this law and female bar Besides, their writers say, King Pepin, which deposed Childeric, Did, as heir general, being descended Of Blithild, which was daughter to King Clothair, Make claim and title to the crown of France So that, as clear as is the summer's sun, King Pepin's title, and Hugh Capet's claim, King Lewis his satisfaction, all appear To hold in right and tide of the female; So do the kings of France unto this day, Howbeit they would hold up this Salique law To bar your Highness claiming from the female; And rather choose to hide them in a net Than amply to imbar their crooked tides Usurp'd from you and your progenitors You are their heir; you sit upon their throne; The blood and courage that renowned them Runs in your veins; and my thrice-puissant liege Is in the very May-morn of his youth, Ripe for exploits and mighty enterprises They know your Grace hath cause and means and might- So hath your Highness; never King of England Had nobles richer and more loyal subjects, Whose hearts have left their bodies here in England And lie pavilion'd in the fields of France They of those marches, gracious sovereign, Shall be a wall sufficient to defend Our inland from the pilfering borderers We do not mean the coursing snatchers only, But fear the main intendment of the Scot, Who hath been still a giddy neighbour to us; For you shall read that my great-grandfather Never went with his forces into France But that the Scot on his unfurnish'd kingdom Came pouring, like the tide into a breach, With ample and brim fulness of his force, Galling the gleaned land with hot assays, Girdling with grievous siege castles and towns; That England, being empty of defence, Hath shook and trembled at th' ill neighbourhood 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 'If that you will France win, Then with Scotland first begin.' For once the eagle England being in prey, To her unguarded nest the weasel Scot Comes sneaking, and so sucks her princely eggs, Playing the mouse in absence of the cat, To tear and havoc more than she can eat It follows, then, the cat must stay at home; Yet that is but a crush'd necessity, Since we have locks to safeguard necessaries And pretty traps to catch the petty thieves Divide your happy England into four; Whereof take you one quarter into France, And you withal shall make all Gallia shake If we, with thrice such powers left at home, Cannot defend our own doors from the dog, Let us be worried, and our nation lose The name of hardiness and policy We are glad the Dauphin is so pleasant with us; His present and your pains we thank you for But this lies all within the will of God, To whom I do appeal; and in whose name, Tell you the Dauphin, I am coming on, To venge me as I may and to put forth My rightful hand in a well-hallow'd cause So get you hence in peace; and tell the Dauphin His jest will savour but of shallow wit, When thousands weep more than did laugh at it For now sits Expectation in the air, And hides a sword from hilts unto the point With crowns imperial, crowns, and coronets, Promis'd to Harry and his followers O England! model to thy inward greatness, Like little body with a mighty heart, What mightst thou do that honour would thee do, Were all thy children kind and natural! But see thy fault! France hath in thee found out A nest of hollow bosoms, which he fills With treacherous crowns; and three corrupted men- One, Richard Earl of Cambridge, and the second, Henry Lord Scroop of Masham, and the third, Sir Thomas Grey, knight, of Northumberland, Have, for the gilt of France- O guilt indeed!- Confirm'd conspiracy with fearful France; And by their hands this grace of kings must die- If hell and treason hold their promises, Ere he take ship for France- and in Southampton It is a simple one; but what though? It will toast cheese, and it will endure cold as another man's sword will; and there's an end Faith, I will live so long as I may, that's the certain of it; and when I cannot live any longer, I will do as I may [Nym draws] O well-a-day, Lady, if he be not drawn! Now we shall see wilful adultery and murder committed 'Solus,' egregious dog? O viper vile! The 'solus' in thy most mervailous face; The 'solus' in thy teeth, and in thy throat, And in thy hateful lungs, yea, in thy maw, perdy; And, which is worse, within thy nasty mouth! I do retort the 'solus' in thy bowels; For I can take, and Pistol's cock is up, And flashing fire will follow If you grow foul with me, Pistol, I will scour you with my rapier, as I may, in fair terms; if you would walk off I would prick your guts a little, in good terms, as I may, and thaes the humour of it O hound of Crete, think'st thou my spouse to get? No; to the spital go, And from the powd'ring tub of infamy Fetch forth the lazar kite of Cressid's kind, Doll Tearsheet she by name, and her espouse I have, and I will hold, the quondam Quickly For the only she; and- pauca, there's enough Mine host Pistol, you must come to my master; and your hostess- he is very sick, and would to bed A noble shalt thou have, and present pay; And liquor likewise will I give to thee, And friendship shall combine, and brotherhood My Lord of Cambridge, and my kind Lord of Masham, And you, my gentle knight, give me your thoughts I doubt not that, since we are well persuaded We carry not a heart with us from hence That grows not in a fair consent with ours; Nor leave not one behind that doth not wish Success and conquest to attend on us 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 We therefore have great cause of thankfulness, And shall forget the office of our hand Sooner than quittance of desert and merit According to the weight and worthiness We consider It was excess of wine that set him on; And on his more advice we pardon him Then, Richard Earl of Cambridge, there is yours; There yours, Lord Scroop of Masham; and, Sir Knight, Grey of Northumberland, this same is yours But, O, What shall I say to thee, Lord Scroop, thou cruel, Ingrateful, savage, and inhuman creature? Thou that didst bear the key of all my counsels, That knew'st the very bottom of my soul, That almost mightst have coin'd me into gold, Wouldst thou have practis'd on me for thy use- May it be possible that foreign hire Could out of thee extract one spark of evil That might annoy my finger? 'Tis so strange That, though the truth of it stands off as gross As black and white, my eye will scarcely see it I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of Thomas Grey, knight, of Northumberland For me, the gold of France did not seduce, Although I did admit it as a motive The sooner to effect what I intended; But God be thanked for prevention, Which I in sufferance heartily will rejoice, Beseeching God and you to pardon me You have conspir'd against our royal person, Join'd with an enemy proclaim'd, and from his coffers Receiv'd the golden earnest of our death; Wherein you would have sold your king to slaughter, His princes and his peers to servitude, His subjects to oppression and contempt, And his whole kingdom into desolation 'A did in some sort, indeed, handle women; but then he was rheumatic, and talk'd of the Whore of Babylon The word is 'Pitch and Pay.' Trust none; For oaths are straws, men's faiths are wafer-cakes, And Holdfast is the only dog, my duck Question your Grace the late ambassadors With what great state he heard their embassy, How well supplied with noble counsellors, How modest in exception, and withal How terrible in constant resolution, And you shall find his vanities forespent Were but the outside of the Roman Brutus, Covering discretion with a coat of folly; As gardeners do with ordure hide those roots That shall first spring and be most delicate This is a stern Of that victorious stock; and let us fear The native mightiness and fate of him And when you find him evenly deriv'd From his most fam'd of famous ancestors, Edward the Third, he bids you then resign Your crown and kingdom, indirectly held From him, the native and true challenger For us, we will consider of this further; To-morrow shall you bear our full intent Back to our brother of England Say, if my father render fair return, It is against my will; for I desire Nothing but odds with England He'll make your Paris Louvre shake for it, Were it the mistress court of mighty Europe; And be assur'd you'll find a difference, As we his subjects have in wonder found, Between the promise of his greener days And these he masters now Dispatch us with all speed, lest that our king Come here himself to question our delay; For he is footed in this land already Suppose th' ambassador from the French comes back; Tells Harry that the King doth offer him Katherine his daughter, and with her to dowry Some petty and unprofitable dukedoms The offer likes not; and the nimble gunner With linstock now the devilish cannon touches, [Alarum, and chambers go off] And down goes an before them 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 On, on, you noblest English, Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof- Fathers that like so many Alexanders Have in these parts from morn till even fought, And sheath'd their swords for lack of argument Would I were in an alehouse in London! I wouid give all my fame for a pot of ale and safety For Pistol, he hath a killing tongue and a quiet sword; by the means whereof 'a breaks words and keeps whole weapons I must leave them and seek some better service; their villainy goes against my weak stomach, and therefore I must cast it up And I'll pay't as valorously as I may, that sall I suerly do, that is the breff and the long Of my nation? What ish my nation? Ish a villain, and a bastard, and a knave, and a rascal Captain Macmorris, when there is more better opportunity to be required, look you, I will be so bold as to tell you I know the disciplines of war; and there is an end The gates of mercy shall be all shut up, And the flesh'd soldier, rough and hard of heart, In liberty of bloody hand shall range With conscience wide as hell, mowing like grass Your fresh fair virgins and your flow'ring infants Therefore, you men of Harfleur, Take pity of your town and of your people Whiles yet my soldiers are in my command; Whiles yet the cool and temperate wind of grace O'erblows the filthy and contagious clouds Of heady murder, spoil, and villainy And if he be not fought withal, my lord, Let us not live in France; let us quit an, And give our vineyards to a barbarous people They bid us to the English dancing-schools And teach lavoltas high and swift corantos, Saying our grace is only in our heels And that we are most lofty runaways Where is Montjoy the herald? Speed him hence; Let him greet England with our sharp defiance Sorry am I his numbers are so few, His soldiers sick and famish'd in their march; For I am sure, when he shall see our army, He'll drop his heart into the sink of fear, And for achievement offer us his ransom Now forth, Lord Constable and Princes all, And quickly bring us word of England's fall The Duke of Exeter is as magnanimous as Agamemnon; and a man that I love and honour with my soul, and my heart, and my duty, and my live, and my living, and my uttermost power Fortune is Bardolph's foe, and frowns on him; For he hath stol'n a pax, and hanged must 'a be- A damned death! Let gallows gape for dog; let man go free, And let not hemp his windpipe suffocate 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 The Duke of Exeter has very gallantly maintain'd the pridge; the French is gone off, look you, and there is gallant and most prave passages For our losses his exchequer is too poor; for th' effusion of our blood, the muster of his kingdom too faint a number; and for our disgrace, his own person kneeling at our feet but a weak and worthless satisfaction Go, therefore, tell thy master here I am; My ransom is this frail and worthless trunk; My army but a weak and sickly guard; Yet, God before, tell him we will come on, Though France himself and such another neighbour Stand in our way If we may pass, we will; if we be hind'red, We shall your tawny ground with your red blood Discolour; and so, Montjoy, fare you well March to the bridge, it now draws toward night; Beyond the river we'll encamp ourselves, And on to-morrow bid them march away It is the prince of palfreys; his neigh is like the bidding of a monarch, and his countenance enforces homage Me well; which is the prescript praise and perfection of a good and particular mistress Just, just! and the men do sympathise with the mastiffs in robustious and rough coming on, leaving their wits with their wives; and then give them great meals of beef and iron and steel; they will eat like wolves and fight like devils The country cocks do crow, the clocks do ton, And the third hour of drowsy morning name O, now, who will behold The royal captain of this ruin'd band Walking from watch to watch, from tent to tent, Let him cry 'Praise and glory on his head!' For forth he goes and visits all his host; Bids them good morrow with a modest smile, And calls them brothers, friends, and countrymen God Almighty! There is some soul of goodness in things evil, Would men observingly distil it out; For our bad neighbour makes us early stirrers, Which is both healthful and good husbandry '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 Go with my brothers to my lords of England; I and my bosom must debate awhile, And then I would no other company It is the greatest admiration in the universal world, when the true and aunchient prerogatifes and laws of the wars is not kept if you would take the pains but to examine the wars of Pompey the Great, you shall find, I warrant you, that there is no tiddle-taddle nor pibble-pabble in Pompey's camp; I warrant you, you shall find the ceremonies of the wars, and the cares of it, and the forms of it, and the sobriety of it, and the modesty of it, to be otherwise Though it appear a little out of fashion, There is much care and valour in this Welshman Then I would he were here alone; so should he be sure to be ransomed, and a many poor men's lives saved I dare say you love him not so ill to wish him here alone, howsoever you speak this, to feel other men's minds; methinks I could not die anywhere so contented as in the King's company, his cause being just and his quarrel honourable 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 Ay, he said so, to make us fight cheerfully; but when our throats are cut he may be ransom'd, and we ne'er the wiser And but for ceremony, such a wretch, Winding up days with toil and nights with sleep, Had the fore-hand and vantage of a king My brother Gloucester's voice? Ay; I know thy errand, I will go with thee; The day, my friends, and all things, stay for me To horse, you gallant Princes! straight to horse! Do but behold yon poor and starved band, And your fair show shall suck away their souls, Leaving them but the shales and husks of men There is not work enough for all our hands; Scarce blood enough in all their sickly veins To give each naked curtle-axe a stain That our French gallants shall to-day draw out, And sheathe for lack of sport Then let the trumpets sound The tucket sonance and the note to mount; For our approach shall so much dare the field That England shall couch down in fear and yield Why do you stay so long, my lords of France? Yond island carrions, desperate of their bones, Ill-favouredly become the morning field; Their ragged curtains poorly are let loose, And our air shakes them passing scornfully; Big Mars seems bankrupt in their beggar'd host, And faintly through a rusty beaver peeps He that outlives this day, and comes safe home, Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd, And rouse him at the name of Crispian The French are bravely in their battles set, And will with all expedience charge on us Besides, in mercy, The constable desires thee thou wilt mind Thy followers of repentance, that their souls May make a peaceful and a sweet retire From off these fields, where, wretches, their poor bodies Must lie and fester tell the Constable We are but warriors for the working-day; Our gayness and our gilt are all besmirch'd With rainy marching in the painful field; There's not a piece of feather in our host- Good argument, I hope, we will not fly- And time hath worn us into slovenry But, by the mass, our hearts are in the trim; And my poor soldiers tell me yet ere night They'll be in fresher robes, or they will pluck The gay new coats o'er the French soldiers' heads And turn them out of service He prays you to save his life; he is a gentleman of a good house, and for his ransom he will give you two hundred crowns He gives you, upon his knees, a thousand thanks; and he esteems himself happy that he hath fall'n into the hands of one- as he thinks- the most brave, valorous, and thrice-worthy signieur of England The pretty and sweet manner of it forc'd Those waters from me which I would have stopp'd; But I had not so much of man in me, And all my mother came into mine eyes And gave me up to tears There is a river in Macedon; and there is also moreover a river at Monmouth; it is call'd Wye at Monmouth, but it is out of my prains what is the name of the other river; but 'tis all one, 'tis alike as my fingers is to my fingers, and there is salmons in both It is not well done, mark you now, to take the tales out of my mouth ere it is made and finished I speak but in the figures and comparisons of it; as Alexander kill'd his friend Cleitus, being in his ales and his cups, so also Harry Monmouth, being in his right wits and his good judgments, turn'd away the fat knight with the great belly doublet; he was full of jests, and gipes, and knaveries, and mocks; I have forgot his name I tell thee truly, herald, I know not if the day be ours or no; For yet a many of your horsemen peer And gallop o'er the field Follow, good cousin Warwick; If that the soldier strike him, as I judge By his blunt bearing he will keep his word, Some sudden mischief may arise of it; For I do know Fluellen valiant, And touch'd with choler, hot as gunpowder, And quickly will return an injury; Follow, and see there be no harm between them here is the fellow of it; and he that I gave it to in change promis'd to wear it in his cap; I promis'd to strike him if he did; I met this man with my glove in his cap, and I have been as good as my word So that, in these ten thousand they have lost, There are but sixteen hundred mercenaries; The rest are princes, barons, lords, knights, squires, And gentlemen of blood and quality Charles Delabreth, High Constable of France; Jaques of Chatillon, Admiral of France; The master of the cross-bows, Lord Rambures; Great Master of France, the brave Sir Guichard Dolphin; John Duke of Alencon; Antony Duke of Brabant, The brother to the Duke of Burgundy; And Edward Duke of Bar Of lusty earls, Grandpre and Roussi, Fauconbridge and Foix, Beaumont and Marle, Vaudemont and Lestrake Here was a royal fellowship of death! Where is the number of our English dead? [HERALD presents another paper] Edward the Duke of York, the Earl of Suffolk, Sir Richard Kikely, Davy Gam, Esquire; None else of name; and of all other men But five and twenty the rascally, scald, beggarly, lousy, pragging knave, Pistol- which you and yourself and all the world know to be no petter than a fellow, look you now, of no merits- he is come to me, and prings me pread and salt yesterday, look you, and bid me eat my leek; it was in a place where I could not breed no contendon with him; but I will be so bold as to wear it in my cap till I see him once again, and then I will tell him a little piece of my desires If I owe you anything I will pay you in cudgels; you shall be a woodmonger, and buy nothing of me but cudgels Will you mock at an ancient tradition, begun upon an honourable respect, and worn as a memorable trophy of predeceased valour, and dare not avouch in your deeds any of your words? I have seen you gleeking and galling at this gentleman twice or thrice Doth Fortune play the huswife with me now? News have I that my Nell is dead i' th' spital Of malady of France; And there my rendezvous is quite cut off To England will I steal, and there I'll steal; And patches will I get unto these cudgell'd scars, And swear I got them in the Gallia wars Peace to this meeting, wherefore we are met! Unto our brother France, and to our sister, Health and fair time of day; joy and good wishes To our most fair and princely cousin Katherine So happy be the issue, brother England, Of this good day and of this gracious meeting As we are now glad to behold your eyes- Your eyes, which hitherto have home in them, Against the French that met them in their bent, The fatal balls of murdering basilisks; The venom of such looks, we fairly hope, Have lost their quality; and that this day Shall change all griefs and quarrels into love Her vine, the merry cheerer of the heart, Unpruned dies; her hedges even-pleach'd, Like prisoners wildly overgrown with hair, Put forth disorder'd twigs; her fallow leas The darnel, hemlock, and rank fumitory, Doth root upon, while that the coulter rusts That should deracinate such savagery; The even mead, that erst brought sweetly forth The freckled cowslip, burnet, and green clover, Wanting the scythe, all uncorrected, rank, Conceives by idleness, and nothing teems But hateful docks, rough thistles, kecksies, burs, Losing both beauty and utility And as our vineyards, fallows, meads, and hedges, Defective in their natures, grow to wildness; Even so our houses and ourselves and children Have lost, or do not learn for want of time, The sciences that should become our country; But grow, like savages- as soldiers will, That nothing do but meditate on blood- To swearing and stern looks, diffus'd attire, And everything that seems unnatural 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 If, Duke of Burgundy, you would the peace Whose want gives growth to th' imperfections Which you have cited, you must buy that peace With full accord to all our just demands; Whose tenours and particular effects You have, enschedul'd briefly, in your hands I have but with a cursorary eye O'erglanced the articles; pleaseth your Grace To appoint some of your council presently To sit with us once more, with better heed To re-survey them, we will suddenly Pass our accept and peremptory answer Go, uncle Exeter, And brother Clarence, and you, brother Gloucester, Warwick, and Huntington, go with the King; And take with you free power to ratify, Augment, or alter, as your wisdoms best Shall see advantageable for our dignity, Any thing in or out of our demands; And we'll consign thereto Or if I might buffet for my love, or bound my horse for her favours, I could lay on like a butcher, and sit like a jack-an-apes, never off But a good heart, Kate, is the sun and the moon; or, rather, the sun, and not the moon- for it shines bright and never changes, but keeps his course truly No, Kate? I will tell thee in French, which I am sure will hang upon my tongue like a new-married wife about her husband's neck, hardly to be shook off 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 Dear Kate, you and I cannot be confin'd within the weak list of a country's fashion; we are the makers of manners, Kate; and the liberty that follows our places stops the mouth of all find-faults- as I will do yours for upholding the nice fashion of your country in denying me a kiss; therefore, patiently and yielding I would have her learn, my fair cousin, how perfectly I love her; and that is good English If you would conjure in her, you must make a circle; if conjure up love in her in his true likeness, he must appear naked and blind It is so; and you may, some of you, thank love for my blindness, who cannot see many a fair French city for one fair French maid that stands in my way I pray you, then, in love and dear alliance, Let that one article rank with the rest; And thereupon give me your daughter Take her, fair son, and from her blood raise up Issue to me; that the contending kingdoms Of France and England, whose very shores look pale With envy of each other's happiness, May cease their hatred; and this dear conjunction Plant neighbourhood and Christian-like accord In their sweet bosoms, that never war advance His bleeding sword 'twixt England and fair France Prepare we for our marriage; on which day, My Lord of Burgundy, we'll take your oath, And all the peers', for surety of our leagues Fortune made his sword; By which the world's best garden he achieved, And of it left his son imperial lord Dramatis Personae KING HENRY THE SIXTH DUKE OF GLOUCESTER, uncle to the King, and Protector DUKE OF BEDFORD, uncle to the King, and Regent of France THOMAS BEAUFORT, DUKE OF EXETER, great-uncle to the king HENRY BEAUFORT, great-uncle to the King, BISHOP OF WINCHESTER, and afterwards CARDINAL JOHN BEAUFORT, EARL OF SOMERSET, afterwards Duke RICHARD PLANTAGENET, son of Richard late Earl of Cambridge, afterwards DUKE OF YORK EARL OF WARWICK EARL OF SALISBURY EARL OF SUFFOLK LORD TALBOT, afterwards EARL OF SHREWSBURY JOHN TALBOT, his son EDMUND MORTIMER, EARL OF MARCH SIR JOHN FASTOLFE SIR WILLIAM LUCY SIR WILLIAM GLANSDALE SIR THOMAS GARGRAVE MAYOR of LONDON WOODVILLE, Lieutenant of the Tower VERNON, of the White Rose or York faction BASSET, of the Red Rose or Lancaster faction A LAWYER GAOLERS, to Mortimer CHARLES, Dauphin, and afterwards King of France REIGNIER, DUKE OF ANJOU, and titular King of Naples DUKE OF BURGUNDY DUKE OF ALENCON BASTARD OF ORLEANS GOVERNOR OF PARIS MASTER-GUNNER OF ORLEANS, and his SON GENERAL OF THE FRENCH FORCES in Bordeaux A FRENCH SERGEANT A PORTER AN OLD SHEPHERD, father to Joan la Pucelle MARGARET, daughter to Reignier, afterwards married to King Henry COUNTESS OF AUVERGNE JOAN LA PUCELLE, Commonly called JOAN OF ARC Lords, Warders of the Tower, Heralds, Officers, Soldiers, Messengers, English and French Attendants Hung be the heavens with black, yield day to night! Comets, importing change of times and states, Brandish your crystal tresses in the sky And with them scourge the bad revolting stars That have consented unto Henry's death! King Henry the Fifth, too famous to live long! England ne'er lost a king of so much worth Gloucester, whate'er we like, thou art Protector And lookest to command the Prince and realm Posterity, await for wretched years, When at their mothers' moist'ned eyes babes shall suck, Our isle be made a nourish of salt tears, And none but women left to wail the dead My honourable lords, health to you all! Sad tidings bring I to you out of France, Of loss, of slaughter, and discomfiture What say'st thou, man, before dead Henry's corse? Speak softly, or the loss of those great towns Will make him burst his lead and rise from death My gracious lords, to add to your laments, Wherewith you now bedew King Henry's hearse, I must inform you of a dismal fight Betwixt the stout Lord Talbot and the French The tenth of August last this dreadful lord, Retiring from the siege of Orleans, Having full scarce six thousand in his troop, By three and twenty thousand of the French Was round encompassed and set upon More than three hours the fight continued; Where valiant Talbot, above human thought, Enacted wonders with his sword and lance His soldiers, spying his undaunted spirit, 'A Talbot! a Talbot!' cried out amain, And rush'd into the bowels of the battle He, being in the vaward plac'd behind With purpose to relieve and follow them- Cowardly fled, not having struck one stroke; Hence grew the general wreck and massacre I'll to the Tower with all the haste I can To view th' artillery and munition; And then I will proclaim young Henry king To Eltham will I, where the young King is, Being ordain'd his special governor; And for his safety there I'll best devise Let's leave this town; for they are hare-brain'd slaves, And hunger will enforce them to be more eager A holy maid hither with me I bring, Which, by a vision sent to her from heaven, Ordained is to raise this tedious siege And drive the English forth the bounds of France Lo, whilst I waited on my tender lambs And to sun's parching heat display'd my cheeks, God's Mother deigned to appear to me, And in a vision full of majesty Will'd me to leave my base vocation And free my country from calamity Her aid she promis'd and assur'd success Woman, do what thou canst to save our honours; Drive them from Orleans, and be immortaliz'd Priest, beware your beard; I mean to tug it, and to cuff you soundly; Under my feet I stamp thy cardinal's hat; In spite of Pope or dignities of church, Here by the cheeks I'll drag thee up and down Here's Gloucester, a foe to citizens; One that still motions war and never peace, O'ercharging your free purses with large fines; That seeks to overthrow religion, Because he is Protector of the realm, And would have armour here out of the Tower, To crown himself King and suppress the Prince Cardinal, I'll be no breaker of the law; But we shall meet and break our minds at large Sirrah, thou know'st how Orleans is besieg'd, And how the English have the suburbs won The Earl of Bedford had a prisoner Call'd the brave Lord Ponton de Santrailles; For him was I exchang'd and ransomed Pucelle or puzzel, dolphin or dogfish, Your hearts I'll stamp out with my horse's heels And make a quagmire of your mingled brains Convey me Salisbury into his tent, And then we'll try what these dastard Frenchmen dare Before Orleans Here an alarum again, and TALBOT pursueth the DAUPHIN and driveth him Devil or devil's dam, I'll conjure thee; Blood will I draw on thee-thou art a witch And straightway give thy soul to him thou serv'st A witch by fear, not force, like Hannibal, Drives back our troops and conquers as she lists So bees with smoke and doves with noisome stench Are from their hives and houses driven away Divinest creature, Astraea's daughter, How shall I honour thee for this success? Thy promises are like Adonis' gardens, That one day bloom'd and fruitful were the next In memory of her, when she is dead, Her ashes, in an urn more precious Than the rich jewel'd coffer of Darius, Transported shall be at high festivals Before the kings and queens of France [Exit SERGEANT] Thus are poor servitors, When others sleep upon their quiet beds, Constrain'd to watch in darkness, rain, and cold Lord Regent, and redoubted Burgundy, By whose approach the regions of Artois, Wallon, and Picardy, are friends to us, This happy night the Frenchmen are secure, Having all day carous'd and banqueted; Embrace we then this opportunity, As fitting best to quittance their deceit, Contriv'd by art and baleful sorcery And now there rests no other shift but this To gather our soldiers, scatter'd and dispers'd, And lay new platforms to endamage them And that hereafter ages may behold What ruin happened in revenge of him, Within their chiefest temple I'll erect A tomb, wherein his corpse shall be interr'd; Upon the which, that every one may read, Shall be engrav'd the sack of Orleans, The treacherous manner of his mournful death, And what a terror he had been to France Ne'er trust me then; for when a world of men Could not prevail with all their oratory, Yet hath a woman's kindness overrul'd; And therefore tell her I return great thanks And in submission will attend on her Porter, remember what I gave in charge; And when you have done so, bring the keys to me Is this the scourge of France? Is this Talbot, so much fear'd abroad That with his name the mothers still their babes? I see report is fabulous and false I thought I should have seen some Hercules, A second Hector, for his grim aspect And large proportion of his strong-knit limbs Long time thy shadow hath been thrall to me, For in my gallery thy picture hangs; But now the substance shall endure the like And I will chain these legs and arms of thine That hast by tyranny these many years Wasted our country, slain our citizens, And sent our sons and husbands captivate You are deceiv'd, my substance is not here; For what you see is but the smallest part And least proportion of humanity Enter soldiers How say you, madam? Are you now persuaded That Talbot is but shadow of himself? These are his substance, sinews, arms, and strength, With which he yoketh your rebellious necks, Razeth your cities, and subverts your towns, And in a moment makes them desolate I find thou art no less than fame hath bruited, And more than may be gathered by thy shape Faith, I have been a truant in the law And never yet could frame my will to it; And therefore frame the law unto my will Prick not your finger as you pluck it off, Lest, bleeding, you do paint the white rose red, And fall on my side so, against your will If I, my lord, for my opinion bleed, Opinion shall be surgeon to my hurt And keep me on the side where still I am No, Plantagenet, 'Tis not for fear but anger that thy cheeks Blush for pure shame to counterfeit our roses, And yet thy tongue will not confess thy error Now, by God's will, thou wrong'st him, Somerset; His grandfather was Lionel Duke of Clarence, Third son to the third Edward, King of England Was not thy father, Richard Earl of Cambridge, For treason executed in our late king's days? And by his treason stand'st not thou attainted, Corrupted, and exempt from ancient gentry? His trespass yet lives guilty in thy blood; And till thou be restor'd thou art a yeoman Meantime, in signal of my love to thee, Against proud Somerset and William Pole, Will I upon thy party wear this rose; And here I prophesy this brawl to-day, Grown to this faction in the Temple Garden, Shall send between the Red Rose and the White A thousand souls to death and deadly night Since Henry Monmouth first began to reign, Before whose glory I was great in arms, This loathsome sequestration have I had; And even since then hath Richard been obscur'd, Depriv'd of honour and inheritance First, lean thine aged back against mine arm; And, in that ease, I'll tell thee my disease as in this haughty great attempt They laboured to plant the rightful heir, I lost my liberty, and they their lives Long after this, when Henry the Fifth, Succeeding his father Bolingbroke, did reign, Thy father, Earl of Cambridge, then deriv'd From famous Edmund Langley, Duke of York, Marrying my sister, that thy mother was, Again, in pity of my hard distress, Levied an army, weening to redeem And have install'd me in the diadem; But, as the rest, so fell that noble earl, And was beheaded True; and thou seest that I no issue have, And that my fainting words do warrant death With silence, nephew, be thou politic; Strong fixed is the house of Lancaster And like a mountain not to be remov'd And peace, no war, befall thy parting soul! In prison hast thou spent a pilgrimage, And like a hermit overpass'd thy days Enter the KING, EXETER, GLOUCESTER, WARWICK, SOMERSET, and SUFFOLK; the BISHOP OF WINCHESTER, RICHARD PLANTAGENET, and others It is because no one should sway but he; No one but he should be about the King; And that engenders thunder in his breast And makes him roar these accusations forth Uncles of Gloucester and of Winchester, The special watchmen of our English weal, I would prevail, if prayers might prevail To join your hearts in love and amity Our windows are broke down in every street, And we for fear compell'd to shut our shops We charge you, on allegiance to ourself, To hold your slaught'ring hands and keep the peace My lord, we know your Grace to be a man Just and upright, and for your royal birth Inferior to none but to his Majesty; And ere that we will suffer such a prince, So kind a father of the commonweal, To be disgraced by an inkhorn mate, We and our wives and children all will fight And have our bodies slaught'red by thy foes Yield, my Lord Protector; yield, Winchester; Except you mean with obstinate repulse To slay your sovereign and destroy the realm Well, Duke of Gloucester, I will yield to thee; Love for thy love and hand for hand I give This late dissension grown betwixt the peers Burns under feigned ashes of forg'd love And will at last break out into a flame; As fest'red members rot but by degree Till bones and flesh and sinews fall away, So will this base and envious discord breed See, noble Charles, the beacon of our friend; The burning torch in yonder turret stands Defer no time, delays have dangerous ends; Enter, and cry 'The Dauphin!' presently, And then do execution on the watch I trust ere long to choke thee with thine own, And make thee curse the harvest of that corn Signior, hang! Base muleteers of France! Like peasant foot-boys do they keep the walls, And dare not take up arms like gentlemen Come, my lord, We will bestow you in some better place, Fitter for sickness and for crazy age Lord Talbot, do not so dishonour me; Here will I sit before the walls of Rouen, And will be partner of your weal or woe Not to be gone from hence; for once I read That stout Pendragon in his litter sick Came to the field, and vanquished his foes Heavens keep old Bedford safe! And now no more ado, brave Burgundy, But gather we our forces out of hand And set upon our boasting enemy What is the trust or strength of foolish man? They that of late were daring with their scoffs Are glad and fain by flight to save themselves Let frantic Talbot triumph for a while And like a peacock sweep along his tail; We'll pull his plumes and take away his train, If Dauphin and the rest will be but rul'd Search out thy wit for secret policies, And we will make thee famous through the world We'll set thy statue in some holy place, And have thee reverenc'd like a blessed saint By fair persuasions, mix'd with sug'red words, We will entice the Duke of Burgundy To leave the Talbot and to follow us Enter, and pass over at a distance, TALBOT and his forces There goes the Talbot, with his colours spread, And all the troops of English after him Enter the DUKE OF BURGUNDY and his forces Now in the rearward comes the Duke and his Return thee therefore with a flood of tears, And wash away thy country's stained spots Besides, all French and France exclaims on thee, Doubting thy birth and lawful progeny Who join'st thou with but with a lordly nation That will not trust thee but for profit's sake? When Talbot hath set footing once in France, And fashion'd thee that instrument of ill, Who then but English Henry will be lord, And thou be thrust out like a fugitive? Call we to mind-and mark but this for proof Was not the Duke of Orleans thy foe? And was he not in England prisoner? But when they heard he was thine enemy They set him free without his ransom paid, In spite of Burgundy and all his friends See then, thou fight'st against thy countrymen, And join'st with them will be thy slaughtermen Come, come, return; return, thou wandering lord; Charles and the rest will take thee in their arms I am vanquished; these haughty words of hers Have batt'red me like roaring cannon-shot And made me almost yield upon my knees The palace Enter the KING, GLOUCESTER, WINCHESTER, YORK, SUFFOLK, SOMERSET, WARWICK, EXETER, VERNON, BASSET, and others My gracious Prince, and honourable peers, Hearing of your arrival in this realm, I have awhile given truce unto my wars To do my duty to my sovereign; In sign whereof, this arm that hath reclaim'd To your obedience fifty fortresses, Twelve cities, and seven walled towns of strength, Beside five hundred prisoners of esteem, Lets fall his sword before your Highness' feet, And with submissive loyalty of heart Ascribes the glory of his conquest got First to my God and next unto your Grace Welcome, brave captain and victorious lord! When I was young, as yet I am not old, I do remember how my father said A stouter champion never handled sword Therefore stand up; and for these good deserts We here create you Earl of Shrewsbury; And in our coronation take your place Well, miscreant, I'll be there as soon as you; And, after, meet you sooner than you would This dastard, at the battle of Patay, When but in all I was six thousand strong, And that the French were almost ten to one, Before we met or that a stroke was given, Like to a trusty squire did run away; In which assault we lost twelve hundred men; Myself and divers gentlemen beside Were there surpris'd and taken prisoners To say the truth, this fact was infamous And ill beseeming any common man, Much more a knight, a captain, and a leader Why then Lord Talbot there shall talk with him And give him chastisement for this abuse What is that wrong whereof you both complain? First let me know, and then I'll answer you Good Lord, what madness rules in brainsick men, When for so slight and frivolous a cause Such factious emulations shall arise! Good cousins both, of York and Somerset, Quiet yourselves, I pray, and be at peace Let this dissension first be tried by fight, And then your Highness shall command a peace Henceforth I charge you, as you love our favour, Quite to forget this quarrel and the cause But your discretions better can persuade Than I am able to instruct or teach; And, therefore, as we hither came in peace, So let us still continue peace and love 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 On us thou canst not enter but by death; For, I protest, we are well fortified, And strong enough to issue out and fight If thou retire, the Dauphin, well appointed, Stands with the snares of war to tangle thee On either hand thee there are squadrons pitch'd To wall thee from the liberty of flight, And no way canst thou turn thee for redress But death doth front thee with apparent spoil And pale destruction meets thee in the face 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 [Drum afar off] Hark! hark! The Dauphin's drum, a warning bell, Sings heavy music to thy timorous soul; And mine shall ring thy dire departure out O, negligent and heedless discipline! How are we park'd and bounded in a pale A little herd of England's timorous deer, Maz'd with a yelping kennel of French curs! If we be English deer, be then in blood; Not rascal-like to fall down with a pinch, But rather, moody-mad and desperate stags, Turn on the bloody hounds with heads of steel And make the cowards stand aloof at bay Sell every man his life as dear as mine, And they shall find dear deer of us, my friends A plague upon that villain Somerset That thus delays my promised supply Of horsemen that were levied for this siege! Renowned Talbot doth expect my aid, And I am louted by a traitor villain And cannot help the noble chevalier 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 To Bordeaux, warlike Duke! to Bordeaux, York! Else, farewell Talbot, France, and England's honour O God, that Somerset, who in proud heart Doth stop my cornets, were in Talbot's place! So should we save a valiant gentleman By forfeiting a traitor and a coward This seven years did not Talbot see his son; And now they meet where both their lives are done Orleans the Bastard, Charles, Burgundy, Alencon, Reignier, compass him about, And Talbot perisheth by your default Too late comes rescue; he is ta'en or slain, For fly he could not if he would have fled; And fly would Talbot never, though he might Come, side by side together live and die; And soul with soul from France to heaven fly The Regent hath with Talbot broke his word And left us to the rage of France his sword Where is John Talbot? Pause and take thy breath; I gave thee life and rescu'd thee from death Then leaden age, Quicken'd with youthful spleen and warlike rage, Beat down Alencon, Orleans, Burgundy, And from the pride of Gallia rescued thee In thee thy mother dies, our household's name, My death's revenge, thy youth, and England's fame If thou wilt fight, fight by thy father's side; And, commendable prov'd, let's die in pride O thou whose wounds become hard-favoured Death, Speak to thy father ere thou yield thy breath! Brave Death by speaking, whether he will or no; Imagine him a Frenchman and thy foe Hew them to pieces, hack their bones asunder, Whose life was England's glory, Gallia's wonder Him that thou magnifi'st with all these tides, Stinking and fly-blown lies here at our feet Give me their bodies, that I may bear them hence And give them burial as beseems their worth I think this upstart is old Talbot's ghost, He speaks with such a proud commanding spirit For God's sake, let him have them; to keep them here, They would but stink, and putrefy the air They humbly sue unto your Excellence To have a godly peace concluded of Between the realms of England and of France Well, my good lord, and as the only means To stop effusion of our Christian blood And stablish quietness on every side 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 And for the proffer of my lord your master, I have inform'd his Highness so at large, As, liking of the lady's virtuous gifts, Her beauty, and the value of her dower, He doth intend she shall be England's Queen Then march to Paris, royal Charles of France, And keep not back your powers in dalliance The English army, that divided was Into two parties, is now conjoin'd in one, And means to give you battle presently Command the conquest, Charles, it shall be thine, Let Henry fret and all the world repine [They shake their heads] Cannot my body nor blood sacrifice Entreat you to your wonted furtherance? Then take my soul-my body, soul, and all, Before that England give the French the foil Now the time is come That France must vail her lofty-plumed crest And let her head fall into England's lap [Gazes on her] O fairest beauty, do not fear nor fly! For I will touch thee but with reverent hands; I kiss these fingers for eternal peace, And lay them gently on thy tender side [She is going] O, stay! [Aside] I have no power to let her pass; My hand would free her, but my heart says no Fie, de la Pole! disable not thyself; Hast not a tongue? Is she not here thy prisoner? Wilt thou be daunted at a woman's sight? Ay, beauty's princely majesty is such Confounds the tongue and makes the senses rough But there remains a scruple in that too; For though her father be the King of Naples, Duke of Anjou and Maine, yet is he poor, And our nobility will scorn the match [Aside] What though I be enthrall'd? He seems a knight, And will not any way dishonour me [Aside] Perhaps I shall be rescu'd by the French; And then I need not crave his courtesy No, gentle madam; I unworthy am To woo so fair a dame to be his wife And have no portion in the choice myself And I again, in Henry's royal name, As deputy unto that gracious king, Give thee her hand for sign of plighted faith This argues what her kind of life hath been- Wicked and vile; and so her death concludes Fie, Joan, that thou wilt be so obstacle! God knows thou art a collop of my flesh; And for thy sake have I shed many a tear That, in regard King Henry gives consent, Of mere compassion and of lenity, To ease your country of distressful war, An suffer you to breathe in fruitful peace, You shall become true liegemen to his crown; And, Charles, upon condition thou wilt swear To pay him tribute and submit thyself, Thou shalt be plac'd as viceroy under him, And still enjoy thy regal dignity Must he be then as shadow of himself? Adorn his temples with a coronet And yet, in substance and authority, Retain but privilege of a private man? This proffer is absurd and reasonless 'Tis known already that I am possess'd With more than half the Gallian territories, And therein reverenc'd for their lawful king As thou art knight, never to disobey Nor be rebellious to the crown of England Thou, nor thy nobles, to the crown of England The chief perfections of that lovely dame, Had I sufficient skill to utter them, Would make a volume of enticing lines, Able to ravish any dull conceit; And, which is more, she is not so divine, So full-replete with choice of all delights, But with as humble lowliness of mind She is content to be at your command Command, I mean, of virtuous intents, To love and honour Henry as her lord Yes, my lord, her father is a king, The King of Naples and Jerusalem; And of such great authority in France As his alliance will confirm our peace, And keep the Frenchmen in allegiance A dow'r, my lords! Disgrace not so your king, That he should be so abject, base, and poor, To choose for wealth and not for perfect love And therefore, lords, since he affects her most, It most of all these reasons bindeth us In our opinions she should be preferr'd; For what is wedlock forced but a hell, An age of discord and continual strife? Whereas the contrary bringeth bliss, And is a pattern of celestial peace Then yield, my lords; and here conclude with me That Margaret shall be Queen, and none but she Take therefore shipping; post, my lord, to France; Agree to any covenants; and procure That Lady Margaret do vouchsafe to come To cross the seas to England, and be crown'd King Henry's faithful and anointed queen Margaret shall now be Queen, and rule the King; But I will rule both her, the King, and realm Great King of England, and my gracious lord, The mutual conference that my mind hath had, By day, by night, waking and in my dreams, In courtly company or at my beads, With you, mine alder-liefest sovereign, Makes me the bolder to salute my king With ruder terms, such as my wit affords And over-joy of heart doth minister Pardon me, gracious lord; Some sudden qualm hath struck me at the heart, And dimm'd mine eyes, that I can read no further Brave peers of England, pillars of the state, To you Duke Humphrey must unload his grief Your grief, the common grief of all the land Nephew, what means this passionate discourse, This peroration with such circumstance? For France, 'tis ours; and we will keep it still 'Tis known to you he is mine enemy; Nay, more, an enemy unto you all, And no great friend, I fear me, to the King Look to it, lords; let not his smoothing words Bewitch your hearts; be wise and circumspect And, brother York, thy acts in Ireland, In bringing them to civil discipline, Thy late exploits done in the heart of France When thou wert Regent for our sovereign, Have made thee fear'd and honour'd of the people Join we together for the public good, In what we can, to bridle and suppress The pride of Suffolk and the Cardinal, With Somerset's and Buckingham's ambition; And, as we may, cherish Duke Humphrey's deeds While they do tend the profit of the land Unto the main! O father, Maine is lost- That Maine which by main force Warwick did win, And would have kept so long as breath did last Anjou and Maine are given to the French; Paris is lost; the state of Normandy Stands on a tickle point now they are gone Pirates may make cheap pennyworths of their pillage, And purchase friends, and give to courtezans, Still revelling like lords till all be gone; While as the silly owner of the goods Weeps over them and wrings his hapless hands And shakes his head and trembling stands aloof, While all is shar'd and all is borne away, Ready to starve and dare not touch his own So York must sit and fret and bite his tongue, While his own lands are bargain'd for and sold Anjou and Maine both given unto the French! Cold news for me, for I had hope of France, Even as I have of fertile England's soil Then, York, be still awhile, till time do serve; Watch thou and wake, when others be asleep, To pry into the secrets of the state; Till Henry, surfeiting in joys of love With his new bride and England's dear-bought queen, And Humphrey with the peers be fall'n at jars; Then will I raise aloft the milk-white rose, With whose sweet smell the air shall be perfum'd, And in my standard bear the arms of York, To grapple with the house of Lancaster; And force perforce I'll make him yield the crown, Whose bookish rule hath pull'd fair England down Methought this staff, mine office-badge in court, Was broke in twain; by whom I have forgot, But, as I think, it was by th' Cardinal; And on the pieces of the broken wand Were plac'd the heads of Edmund Duke of Somerset And William de la Pole, first Duke of Suffolk Methought I sat in seat of majesty In the cathedral church of Westminster, And in that chair where kings and queens were crown'd; Where Henry and Dame Margaret kneel'd to me, And on my head did set the diadem What, what, my lord! Are you so choleric With Eleanor for telling but her dream? Next time I'll keep my dreams unto myself And not be check'd My Lord Protector, 'tis his Highness' pleasure You do prepare to ride unto Saint Albans, Where as the King and Queen do mean to hawk Exeunt GLOUCESTER and MESSENGER Follow I must; I cannot go before, While Gloucester bears this base and humble mind Where are you there, Sir John? Nay, fear not, man, We are alone; here's none but thee and I Yet have I gold flies from another coast- I dare not say from the rich Cardinal, And from the great and new-made Duke of Suffolk; Yet I do find it so; for, to be plain, They, knowing Dame Eleanor's aspiring humour, Have hired me to undermine the Duchess, And buzz these conjurations in her brain They say 'A crafty knave does need no broker'; Yet am I Suffolk and the Cardinal's broker Mine is, an't please your Grace, against John Goodman, my Lord Cardinal's man, for keeping my house and lands, and wife and all, from me And as for you, that love to be protected Under the wings of our Protector's grace, Begin your suits anew, and sue to him As I was cause Your Highness came to England, so will I In England work your Grace's full content Beside the haughty Protector, have we Beaufort The imperious churchman; Somerset, Buckingham, And grumbling York; and not the least of these But can do more in England than the King And he of these that can do most of all Cannot do more in England than the Nevils; Salisbury and Warwick are no simple peers Madam, myself have lim'd a bush for her, And plac'd a quire of such enticing birds That she will light to listen to the lays, And never mount to trouble you again So one by one we'll weed them all at last, And you yourself shall steer the happy helm Thy cruelty in execution Upon offenders hath exceeded law, And left thee to the mercy of the law Could I come near your beauty with my nails, I could set my ten commandments in your face Against her will, good King? Look to 't in time; She'll hamper thee and dandle thee like a baby As for your spiteful false objections, Prove them, and I lie open to the law; But God in mercy so deal with my soul As I in duty love my king and country! But to the matter that we have in hand First, for I cannot flatter thee in pride; Next, if I be appointed for the place, My Lord of Somerset will keep me here Without discharge, money, or furniture, Till France be won into the Dauphin's hands that Richard Duke of York Was rightful heir unto the English crown, And that your Majesty was an usurper I have heard her reported to be a woman of an invincible spirit; but it shall be convenient, Master Hume, that you be by her aloft while we be busy below; and so I pray you go, in God's name, and leave us Deep night, dark night, the silent of the night, The time of night when Troy was set on fire; The time when screech-owls cry and ban-dogs howl, And spirits walk and ghosts break up their graves- That time best fits the work we have in hand Descend to darkness and the burning lake; False fiend, avoid! Thunder and lightning 'Tell me what fate awaits the Duke of Suffolk?' 'By water shall he die and take his end.' 'What shall betide the Duke of Somerset?' 'Let him shun castles; Safer shall he be upon the sandy plains Than where castles mounted stand.' Come, come, my lords; These oracles are hardly attain'd, And hardly understood Believe me, lords, for flying at the brook, I saw not better sport these seven years' day; Yet, by your leave, the wind was very high, And ten to one old Joan had not gone out But what a point, my lord, your falcon made, And what a pitch she flew above the rest! To see how God in all His creatures works! Yea, man and birds are fain of climbing high No marvel, an it like your Majesty, My Lord Protector's hawks do tow'r so well; They know their master loves to be aloft, And bears his thoughts above his falcon's pitch 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 Alas, good master, my wife desir'd some damsons And made me climb, With danger of my life [A stool brought] Now, sirrah, if you mean to save yourself from whipping, leap me over this stool and run away A sort of naughty persons, lewdly bent, Under the countenance and confederacy Of Lady Eleanor, the Protector's wife, The ringleader and head of all this rout, Have practis'd dangerously against your state, Dealing with witches and with conjurers, Whom we have apprehended in the fact, Raising up wicked spirits from under ground, Demanding of King Henry's life and death And other of your Highness' Privy Council, As more at large your Grace shall understand Gloucester, see here the tainture of thy nest; And look thyself be faultless, thou wert best Madam, for myself, to heaven I do appeal How I have lov'd my King and commonweal; And for my wife I know not how it stands To-morrow toward London back again To look into this business thoroughly And call these foul offenders to their answers, And poise the cause in justice' equal scales, Whose beam stands sure, whose rightful cause prevails Now, my good Lords of Salisbury and Warwick, Our simple supper ended, give me leave In this close walk to satisfy myself In craving your opinion of my tide, Which is infallible, to England's crown Edward the Third, my lords, had seven sons; The first, Edward the Black Prince, Prince of Wales; The second, William of Hatfield; and the third, Lionel Duke of Clarence; next to whom Was John of Gaunt, the Duke of Lancaster; The fifth was Edmund Langley, Duke of York; The sixth was Thomas of Woodstock, Duke of Gloucester; William of Windsor was the seventh and last The third son, Duke of Clarence, from whose line I claim the crown, had issue Philippe, a daughter, Who married Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March; Edmund had issue, Roger Earl of March; Roger had issue, Edmund, Anne, and Eleanor 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 And, Nevil, this I do assure myself, Richard shall live to make the Earl of Warwick The greatest man in England but the King The witch in Smithfield shall be burnt to ashes, And you three shall be strangled on the gallows Ah, Humphrey, this dishonour in thine age Will bring thy head with sorrow to the ground! I beseech your Majesty give me leave to go; Sorrow would solace, and mine age would ease Stay, Humphrey Duke of Gloucester; ere thou go, Give up thy staff; Henry will to himself Protector be; and God shall be my hope, My stay, my guide, and lantern to my feet God and King Henry govern England's realm! Give up your staff, sir, and the King his realm This staff of honour raught, there let it stand Where it best fits to be, in Henry's hand Here, neighbour Horner, I drink to you in a cup of sack; and fear not, neighbour, you shall do well enough Here, Robin, an if I die, I give thee my apron; and, Will, thou shalt have my hammer; and here, Tom, take all the money that I have Thus sometimes hath the brightest day a cloud, And after summer evermore succeeds Barren winter, with his wrathful nipping cold; So cares and joys abound, as seasons fleet Ah, Gloucester, teach me to forget myself! For whilst I think I am thy married wife And thou a prince, Protector of this land, Methinks I should not thus be led along, Mail'd up in shame, with papers on my back, And follow'd with a rabble that rejoice To see my tears and hear my deep-fet groans The ruthless flint doth cut my tender feet, And when I start, the envious people laugh And bid me be advised how I tread For Suffolk- he that can do all in all With her that hateth thee and hates us all- And York, and impious Beaufort, that false priest, Have all lim'd bushes to betray thy wings, And, fly thou how thou canst, they'll tangle thee I must offend before I be attainted; And had I twenty times so many foes, And each of them had twenty times their power, All these could not procure me any scathe So long as I am loyal, true, and crimeless Stanley, I prithee go, and take me hence; I care not whither, for I beg no favour, Only convey me where thou art commanded Madam, your penance done, throw off this sheet, And go we to attire you for our journey Small curs are not regarded when they grin, But great men tremble when the lion roars, And Humphrey is no little man in England Now 'tis the spring, and weeds are shallow-rooted; Suffer them now, and they'll o'ergrow the garden And choke the herbs for want of husbandry If it be fond, can it a woman's fear; Which fear if better reasons can supplant, I will subscribe, and say I wrong'd the Duke Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep, And in his simple show he harbours treason [Aside] Cold news for me; for I had hope of France As firmly as I hope for fertile England So help me God, as I have watch'd the night- Ay, night by night- in studying good for England! That doit that e'er I wrested from the King, Or any groat I hoarded to my use, Be brought against me at my trial-day! No; many a pound of mine own proper store, Because I would not tax the needy commons, Have I dispursed to the garrisons, And never ask'd for restitution In your protectorship you did devise Strange tortures for offenders, never heard of, That England was defam'd by tyranny Why, 'tis well known that whiles I was Protector Pity was all the fault that was in me; For I should melt at an offender's tears, And lowly words were ransom for their fault Ah, gracious lord, these days are dangerous! Virtue is chok'd with foul ambition, And charity chas'd hence by rancour's hand; Foul subornation is predominant, And equity exil'd your Highness' land And you, my sovereign lady, with the rest, Causeless have laid disgraces on my head, And with your best endeavour have stirr'd up My liefest liege to be mine enemy; Ay, all of you have laid your heads together- Myself had notice of your conventicles- And all to make away my guiltless life Beshrew the winners, for they play'd me false! And well such losers may have leave to speak Ah, thus King Henry throws away his crutch Before his legs be firm to bear his body! Thus is the shepherd beaten from thy side, And wolves are gnarling who shall gnaw thee first But, my Lord Cardinal, and you, my Lord of Suffolk, Say as you think, and speak it from your souls Not resolute, except so much were done, For things are often spoke and seldom meant; But that my heart accordeth with my tongue, Seeing the deed is meritorious, And to preserve my sovereign from his foe, Say but the word, and I will be his priest Great lords, from Ireland am I come amain To signify that rebels there are up And put the Englishmen unto the sword Why, our authority is his consent, And what we do establish he confirms; Then, noble York, take thou this task in hand My Lord of Suffolk, within fourteen days At Bristol I expect my soldiers; For there I'll ship them all for Ireland Faster than spring-time show'rs comes thought on thought, And not a thought but thinks on dignity Full often, like a shag-hair'd crafty kern, Hath he conversed with the enemy, And undiscover'd come to me again And given me notice of their villainies By this I shall perceive the commons' mind, How they affect the house and claim of York Say that he thrive, as 'tis great like he will, Why, then from Ireland come I with my strength, And reap the harvest which that rascal sow'd; For Humphrey being dead, as he shall be, And Henry put apart, the next for me God's secret judgment! I did dream to-night The Duke was dumb and could not speak a word Why do you rate my Lord of Suffolk thus? Although the Duke was enemy to him, Yet he most Christian-like laments his death; And for myself- foe as he was to me- Might liquid tears, or heart-offending groans, Or blood-consuming sighs, recall his life, I would be blind with weeping, sick with groans, Look pale as primrose with blood-drinking sighs, And all to have the noble Duke alive 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 What, art thou like the adder waxen deaf? Be poisonous too, and kill thy forlorn Queen As far as I could ken thy chalky cliffs, When from thy shore the tempest beat us back, I stood upon the hatches in the storm; And when the dusky sky began to rob My earnest-gaping sight of thy land's view, I took a costly jewel from my neck- A heart it was, bound in with diamonds- And threw it towards thy land It is reported, mighty sovereign, That good Duke Humphrey traitorously is murd'red By Suffolk and the Cardinal Beaufort's means The commons, like an angry hive of bees That want their leader, scatter up and down And care not who they sting in his revenge Oft have I seen a timely-parted ghost, Of ashy semblance, meagre, pale, and bloodless, Being all descended to the labouring heart, Who, in the conflict that it holds with death, Attracts the same for aidance 'gainst the enemy, Which with the heart there cools, and ne'er returneth To blush and beautify the cheek again But see, his face is black and full of blood; His eye-balls further out than when he liv'd, Staring full ghastly like a strangled man; His hair uprear'd, his nostrils stretch'd with struggling; His hands abroad display'd, as one that grasp'd And tugg'd for life, and was by strength subdu'd Why, Warwick, who should do the Duke to death? Myself and Beaufort had him in protection; And we, I hope, sir, are no murderers But both of you were vow'd Duke Humphrey's foes; And you, forsooth, had the good Duke to keep 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 He dares not calm his contumelious spirit, Nor cease to be an arrogant controller, Though Suffolk dare him twenty thousand times Madam, be still- with reverence may I say; For every word you speak in his behalf Is slander to your royal dignity Blunt-witted lord, ignoble in demeanour, If ever lady wrong'd her lord so much, Thy mother took into her blameful bed Some stern untutor'd churl, and noble stock Was graft with crab-tree slip, whose fruit thou art, And never of the Nevils' noble race Unworthy though thou art, I'll cope with thee, And do some service to Duke Humphrey's ghost 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 Enough, sweet Suffolk, thou torment'st thyself; And these dread curses, like the sun 'gainst glass, Or like an overcharged gun, recoil, And turns the force of them upon thyself You bade me ban, and will you bid me leave? Now, by the ground that I am banish'd from, Well could I curse away a winter's night, Though standing naked on a mountain top Where biting cold would never let grass grow, And think it but a minute spent in sport I will repeal thee or, be well assur'd, Adventure to be banished myself; And banished I am, if but from thee Thus is poor Suffolk ten times banished, Once by the King and three times thrice by thee, 'Tis not the land I care for, wert thou thence; A wilderness is populous enough, So Suffolk had thy heavenly company; For where thou art, there is the world itself, With every several pleasure in the world; And where thou art not, desolation To signify unto his Majesty That Cardinal Beaufort is at point of death; For suddenly a grievous sickness took him That makes him gasp, and stare, and catch the air, Blaspheming God, and cursing men on earth If I depart from thee I cannot live; And in thy sight to die, what were it else But like a pleasant slumber in thy lap? Here could I breathe my soul into the air, As mild and gentle as the cradle-babe Dying with mother's dug between its lips; Where, from thy sight, I should be raging mad And cry out for thee to close up mine eyes, To have thee with thy lips to stop my mouth; So shouldst thou either turn my flying soul, Or I should breathe it so into thy body, And then it liv'd in sweet Elysium If thou be'st Death I'll give thee England's treasure, Enough to purchase such another island, So thou wilt let me live and feel no pain Peace to his soul, if God's good pleasure be! Lord Card'nal, if thou think'st on heaven's bliss, Hold up thy hand, make signal of thy hope I lost mine eye in laying the prize aboard, [To SUFFOLK] And therefore, to revenge it, shalt thou die; And so should these, if I might have my will Never yet did base dishonour blur our name But with our sword we wip'd away the blot; Therefore, when merchant-like I sell revenge, Broke be my sword, my arms torn and defac'd, And I proclaim'd a coward through the world Hast thou not kiss'd thy hand and held my stirrup, Bareheaded plodded by my foot-cloth mule, And thought thee happy when I shook my head? How often hast thou waited at my cup, Fed from my trencher, kneel'd down at the board, When I have feasted with Queen Margaret? Remember it, and let it make thee crestfall'n, Ay, and allay thus thy abortive pride, How in our voiding-lobby hast thou stood And duly waited for my coming forth This hand of mine hath writ in thy behalf, And therefore shall it charm thy riotous tongue By thee Anjou and Maine were sold to France; The false revolting Normans thorough thee Disdain to call us lord; and Picardy Hath slain their governors, surpris'd our forts, And sent the ragged soldiers wounded home The princely Warwick, and the Nevils all, Whose dreadful swords were never drawn in vain, As hating thee, are rising up in arms; And now the house of York- thrust from the crown By shameful murder of a guiltless king And lofty proud encroaching tyranny- Burns with revenging fire, whose hopeful colours Advance our half-fac'd sun, striving to shine, Under the which is writ 'Invitis nubibus.' The commons here in Kent are up in arms; And to conclude, reproach and beggary Is crept into the palace of our King, And all by thee Suffolk's imperial tongue is stem and rough, Us'd to command, untaught to plead for favour no, rather let my head Stoop to the block than these knees bow to any Save to the God of heaven and to my king; And sooner dance upon a bloody pole Than stand uncover'd to the vulgar groom A Roman sworder and banditto slave Murder'd sweet Tully; Brutus' bastard hand Stabb'd Julius Caesar; savage islanders Pompey the Great; and Suffolk dies by pirates 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 I tell thee Jack Cade the clothier means to dress the commonwealth, and turn it, and set a new nap upon it For our enemies shall fall before us, inspired with the spirit of putting down kings and princes- command silence [Aside] But methinks he should stand in fear of fire, being burnt i' th' hand for stealing of sheep Is not this a lamentable thing, that of the skin of an innocent lamb should be made parchment? That parchment, being scribbl'd o'er, should undo a man? Some say the bee stings; but I say 'tis the bee's wax; for I did but seal once to a thing, and I was never mine own man since Oft have I heard that grief softens the mind And makes it fearful and degenerate; Think therefore on revenge and cease to weep The rebels are in Southwark; fly, my lord! Jack Cade proclaims himself Lord Mortimer, Descended from the Duke of Clarence' house, And calls your Grace usurper, openly, And vows to crown himself in Westminster His army is a ragged multitude Of hinds and peasants, rude and merciless; Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother's death Hath given them heart and courage to proceed All scholars, lawyers, courtiers, gentlemen, They call false caterpillars and intend their death The sight of me is odious in their eyes; And therefore in this city will I stay And live alone as secret as I may The citizens fly and forsake their houses; The rascal people, thirsting after prey, Join with the traitor; and they jointly swear To spoil the city and your royal court No, my lord, nor likely to be slain; for they have won the bridge, killing all those that withstand them But get you to Smithfield, and gather head, And thither I will send you Matthew Goffe; Fight for your King, your country, and your lives; And so, farewell, for I must hence again [Aside] Mass, 'twill be sore law then; for he was thrust in the mouth with a spear, and 'tis not whole yet My lord, a prize, a prize! Here's the Lord Say, which sold the towns in France; he that made us pay one and twenty fifteens, and one shining to the pound, the last subsidy Marry, thou ought'st not to let thy horse wear a cloak, when honester men than thou go in their hose and doublets Justice with favour have I always done; Pray'rs and tears have mov'd me, gifts could never Long sitting to determine poor men's causes Hath made me full of sickness and diseases Nay, he nods at us, as who should say 'I'll be even with you'; I'll see if his head will stand steadier on a pole, or no Ah, countrymen! if when you make your pray'rs, God should be so obdurate as yourselves, How would it fare with your departed souls? And therefore yet relent and save my life Soldiers, defer the spoil of the city until night; for with these borne before us instead of maces will we ride through the streets, and at every corner have them kiss Know, Cade, we come ambassadors from the King Unto the commons whom thou hast misled; And here pronounce free pardon to them all That will forsake thee and go home in peace What say ye, countrymen? Will ye relent And yield to mercy whilst 'tis offer'd you, Or let a rebel lead you to your deaths? Who loves the King, and will embrace his pardon, Fling up his cap and say 'God save his Majesty!' Who hateth him and honours not his father, Henry the Fifth, that made all France to quake, Shake he his weapon at us and pass by Is Cade the son of Henry the Fifth, That thus you do exclaim you'll go with him? Will he conduct you through the heart of France, And make the meanest of you earls and dukes? Alas, he hath no home, no place to fly to; Nor knows he how to live but by the spoil, Unless by robbing of your friends and us To France, to France, and get what you have lost; Spare England, for it is your native coast Was ever feather so lightly blown to and fro as this multitude? The name of Henry the Fifth hales them to an hundred mischiefs, and makes them leave me desolate What, is he fled? Go some, and follow him; And he that brings his head unto the King Shall have a thousand crowns for his reward Then, heaven, set ope thy everlasting gates, To entertain my vows of thanks and praise! Soldiers, this day have you redeem'd your lives, And show'd how well you love your Prince and country Thus stands my state, 'twixt Cade and York distress'd; Like to a ship that, having scap'd a tempest, Is straightway calm'd, and boarded with a pirate; But now is Cade driven back, his men dispers'd, And now is York in arms to second him In any case be not too rough in terms, For he is fierce and cannot brook hard language Come, wife, let's in, and learn to govern better; For yet may England curse my wretched reign Fie on ambitions! Fie on myself, that have a sword and yet am ready to famish! These five days have I hid me in these woods and durst not peep out, for all the country is laid for me; but now am I so hungry that, if I might have a lease of my life for a thousand years, I could stay no longer Lord, who would live turmoiled in the court And may enjoy such quiet walks as these? This small inheritance my father left me Contenteth me, and worth a monarchy I seek not to wax great by others' waning Or gather wealth I care not with what envy; Sufficeth that I have maintains my state, And sends the poor well pleased from my gate Ah, villain, thou wilt betray me, and get a thousand crowns of the King by carrying my head to him; but I'll make thee eat iron like an ostrich and swallow my sword like a great pin ere thou and I part Let ten thousand devils come against me, and give me but the ten meals I have lost, and I'd defy them all Is't Cade that I have slain, that monstrous traitor? Sword, I will hallow thee for this thy deed And hang thee o'er my tomb when I am dead From Ireland thus comes York to claim his right And pluck the crown from feeble Henry's head Ring bells aloud, burn bonfires clear and bright, To entertain great England's lawful king Ah, sancta majestas! who would not buy thee dear? Let them obey that knows not how to rule; This hand was made to handle nought but gold The cause why I have brought this army hither Is to remove proud Somerset from the King, Seditious to his Grace and to the state That is too much presumption on thy part; But if thy arms be to no other end, The King hath yielded unto thy demand Soldiers, I thank you all; disperse yourselves; Meet me to-morrow in Saint George's field, You shall have pay and everything you wish And let my sovereign, virtuous Henry, Command my eldest son, nay, all my sons, As pledges of my fealty and love For thousand Yorks he shall not hide his head, But boldly stand and front him to his face How now! Is Somerset at liberty? Then, York, unloose thy long-imprisoned thoughts And let thy tongue be equal with thy heart That head of thine doth not become a crown; Thy hand is made to grasp a palmer's staff, And not to grace an awful princely sceptre 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 O monstrous traitor! I arrest thee, York, Of capital treason 'gainst the King and crown My lord, I have considered with myself The tide of this most renowned duke, And in my conscience do repute his Grace The rightful heir to England's royal seat 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 Nor should thy prowess want praise and esteem But that 'tis shown ignobly and in treason Tears virginal Shall be to me even as the dew to fire; And beauty, that the tyrant oft reclaims, Shall to my flaming wrath be oil and flax My lords, look where the sturdy rebel sits, Even in the chair of state! Belike he means, Back'd by the power of Warwick, that false peer, To aspire unto the crown and reign as king Earl of Northumberland, he slew thy father; And thine, Lord Clifford; and you both have vow'd revenge On him, his sons, his favourites, and his friends He is both King and Duke of Lancaster; And that the Lord of Westmoreland shall maintain Yes, Warwick, I remember it to my grief; And, by his soul, thou and thy house shall rue it What title hast thou, traitor, to the crown? Thy father was, as thou art, Duke of York; Thy grandfather, Roger Mortimer, Earl of March I am the son of Henry the Fifth, Who made the Dauphin and the French to stoop, And seiz'd upon their towns and provinces Good brother, as thou lov'st and honourest arms, Let's fight it out and not stand cavilling thus An if he may, then am I lawful King; For Richard, in the view of many lords, Resign'd the crown to Henry the Fourth, Whose heir my father was, and I am his No; for he could not so resign his crown But that the next heir should succeed and reign Confirm the crown to me and to mine heirs, And thou shalt reign in quiet while thou liv'st [To YORK] I here entail The crown to thee and to thine heirs for ever; Conditionally, that here thou take an oath To cease this civil war, and, whilst I live, To honour me as thy king and sovereign, And neither by treason nor hostility To seek to put me down and reign thyself Who can be patient in such extremes? Ah, wretched man! Would I had died a maid, And never seen thee, never borne thee son, Seeing thou hast prov'd so unnatural a father! Hath he deserv'd to lose his birthright thus? Hadst thou but lov'd him half so well as I, Or felt that pain which I did for him once, Or nourish'd him as I did with my blood, Thou wouldst have left thy dearest heart-blood there Rather than have made that savage duke thine heir, And disinherited thine only son The northern lords that have forsworn thy colours Will follow mine, if once they see them spread; And spread they shall be, to thy foul disgrace And utter ruin of the house of York About that which concerns your Grace and us- The crown of England, father, which is yours Henry had none, but did usurp the place; Then, seeing 'twas he that made you to depose, Your oath, my lord, is vain and frivolous And, father, do but think How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown, Within whose circuit is Elysium And all that poets feign of bliss and joy Let noble Warwick, Cobham, and the rest, Whom we have left protectors of the King, With pow'rful policy strengthen themselves And trust not simple Henry nor his oaths So looks the pent-up lion o'er the wretch That trembles under his devouring paws; And so he walks, insulting o'er his prey, And so he comes, to rend his limbs asunder The sight of any of the house of York Is as a fury to torment my soul; And till I root out their accursed line And leave not one alive, I live in hell 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 [A short alarum within] Ah, hark! The fatal followers do pursue, And I am faint and cannot fly their fury; And were I strong, I would not shun their fury The sands are numb'red that make up my life; Here must I stay, and here my life must end Enter QUEEN MARGARET, CLIFFORD, NORTHUMBERLAND, the PRINCE OF WALES, and soldiers Come, bloody Clifford, rough Northumberland, I dare your quenchless fury to more rage; I am your butt, and I abide your shot What valour were it, when a cur doth grin, For one to thrust his hand between his teeth, When he might spurn him with his foot away? It is war's prize to take all vantages; And ten to one is no impeach of valour 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 What, hath thy fiery heart so parch'd thine entrails That not a tear can fall for Rutland's death? Why art thou patient, man? Thou shouldst be mad; And I to make thee mad do mock thee thus [Putting a paper crown on his head] Ay, marry, sir, now looks he like a king! Ay, this is he that took King Henry's chair, And this is he was his adopted heir But how is it that great Plantagenet Is 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 And will you pale your head in Henry's glory, And rob his temples of the diadem, Now in his life, against your holy oath? O, 'tis a fault too too Off with the crown and with the crown his head; And, whilst we breathe, take time to do him dead O tiger's heart wrapp'd in a woman's hide! How couldst thou drain the life-blood of the child, To bid the father wipe his eyes withal, And yet be seen to bear a woman's face? Women are soft, mild, pitiful, and flexible Bid'st thou me rage? Why, now thou hast thy wish; Wouldst have me weep? Why, now thou hast thy will; For raging wind blows up incessant showers, And when the rage allays, the rain begins These tears are my sweet Rutland's obsequies; And every drop cries vengeance for his death 'Gainst thee, fell Clifford, and thee, false Frenchwoman This cloth thou dipp'dst in blood of my sweet boy, And I with tears do wash the blood away Keep thou the napkin, and go boast of this; And if thou tell'st the heavy story right, Upon my soul, the hearers will shed tears; Yea, even my foes will shed fast-falling tears And say 'Alas, it was a piteous deed!' There, take the crown, and with the crown my curse; And in thy need such comfort come to thee As now I reap at thy too cruel hand! Hard-hearted Clifford, take me from the world; My soul to heaven, my blood upon your heads! NORTHUMBERLAND What, weeping-ripe, my Lord Northumberland? Think but upon the wrong he did us all, And that will quickly dry thy melting tears I wonder how our princely father scap'd, Or whether he be scap'd away or no From Clifford's and Northumberland's pursuit Methought he bore him in the thickest troop As doth a lion in a herd of neat; Or as a bear, encompass'd round with dogs, Who having pinch'd a few and made them cry, The rest stand all aloof and bark at him I think it cites us, brother, to the field, That we, the sons of brave Plantagenet, Each one already blazing by our meeds, Should notwithstanding join our lights together And overshine the earth, as this the world But Hercules himself must yield to odds; And many strokes, though with a little axe, Hews down and fells the hardest-timber'd oak O Clifford, boist'rous Clifford, thou hast slain The flow'r of Europe for his chivalry; And treacherously hast thou vanquish'd him, For hand to hand he would have vanquish'd thee 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 Nay, if thou be that princely eagle's bird, Show thy descent by gazing 'gainst the sun; For chair and dukedom, throne and kingdom, say After the bloody fray at Wakefield fought, Where your brave father breath'd his latest gasp, Tidings, as swiftly as the posts could run, Were brought me of your loss and his depart I, then in London, keeper of the King, Muster'd my soldiers, gathered flocks of friends, And very well appointed, as I thought, March'd toward Saint Albans to intercept the Queen, Bearing the King in my behalf along; For by my scouts I was advertised That she was coming with a full intent To dash our late decree in parliament Touching King Henry's oath and your succession Short tale to make- we at Saint Albans met, Our battles join'd, and both sides fiercely fought; But whether 'twas the coldness of the King, Who look'd full gently on his warlike queen, That robb'd my soldiers of their heated spleen, Or whether 'twas report of her success, Or more than common fear of Clifford's rigour, Who thunders to his captives blood and death, I cannot judge; but, to conclude with truth, Their weapons like to lightning came and went Nor now my scandal, Richard, dost thou hear; For thou shalt know this strong right hand of mine Can pluck the diadem from faint Henry's head And wring the awful sceptre from his fist, Were he as famous and as bold in war As he is fam'd for mildness, peace, and prayer But in this troublous time what's to be done? Shall we go throw away our coats of steel And wrap our bodies in black mourning-gowns, Numbering our Ave-Maries with our beads? Or shall we on the helmets of our foes Tell our devotion with revengeful arms? If for the last, say 'Ay,' and to it, lords Now if the help of Norfolk and myself, With all the friends that thou, brave Earl of March, Amongst the loving Welshmen canst procure, Will but amount to five and twenty thousand, Why, Via! to London will we march amain, And once again bestride our foaming steeds, And once again cry 'Charge upon our foes!' But never once again turn back and fly King Edward, valiant Richard, Montague, Stay we no longer, dreaming of renown, But sound the trumpets and about our task The Duke of Norfolk sends you word by me The Queen is coming with a puissant host, And craves your company for speedy counsel Who scapes the lurking serpent's mortal sting? Not he that sets his foot upon her back, The smallest worm will turn, being trodden on, And doves will peck in safeguard of their brood 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 My lord, cheer up your spirits; our foes are nigh, And this soft courage makes your followers faint My gracious father, by your kingly leave, I'll draw it as apparent to the crown, And in that quarrel use it to the death Royal commanders, be in readiness; For with a band of thirty thousand men Comes Warwick, backing of the Duke of York, And in the towns, as they do march along, Proclaims him king, and many fly to him My royal father, cheer these noble lords, And hearten those that fight in your defence Since when, his oath is broke; for, as I hear, You that are King, though he do wear the crown, Have caus'd him by new act of parliament To blot out me and put his own son in Why, how now, long-tongu'd Warwick! Dare you speak? When you and I met at Saint Albans last Your legs did better service than your hands His father revell'd in the heart of France, And tam'd the King, and made the Dauphin stoop; And had he match'd according to his state, He might have kept that glory to this day; But when he took a beggar to his bed And grac'd thy poor sire with his bridal day, Even then that sunshine brew'd a show'r for him That wash'd his father's fortunes forth of France And heap'd sedition on his crown at home No, wrangling woman, we'll no longer stay; These words will cost ten thousand lives this day Forspent with toil, as runners with a race, I lay me down a little while to breathe; For strokes receiv'd and many blows repaid Have robb'd my strong-knit sinews of their strength, And spite of spite needs must I rest awhile Smile, gentle heaven, or strike, ungentle death; For this world frowns, and Edward's sun is clouded O Warwick, I do bend my knee with thine, And in this vow do chain my soul to thine! And ere my knee rise from the earth's cold face I throw my hands, mine eyes, my heart to Thee, Thou setter-up and plucker-down of kings, Beseeching Thee, if with Thy will it stands That to my foes this body must be prey, Yet that Thy brazen gates of heaven may ope And give sweet passage to my sinful soul Ah, what a life were this! how sweet! how lovely! Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade To shepherds looking on their silly sheep, Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy To kings that fear their subjects' treachery? O yes, it doth; a thousand-fold it doth the shepherd's homely curds, His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle, His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade, All which secure and sweetly he enjoys, Is far beyond a prince's delicates- His viands sparkling in a golden cup, His body couched in a curious bed, When care, mistrust, and treason waits on him O heavy times, begetting such events! From London by the King was I press'd forth; My father, being the Earl of Warwick's man, Came on the part of York, press'd by his master; And I, who at his hands receiv'd my life, Have by my hands of life bereaved him My tears shall wipe away these bloody marks; And no more words till they have flow'd their fill 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 Wither one rose, and let the other flourish! If you contend, a thousand lives must perish Edward and Richard, like a brace of greyhounds Having the fearful flying hare in sight, With fiery eyes sparkling for very wrath, And bloody steel grasp'd in their ireful hands, Are at our backs; and therefore hence amain The common people swarm like summer flies; And whither fly the gnats but to the sun? And who shines now but Henry's enemies? O Phoebus, hadst thou never given consent That Phaethon should check thy fiery steeds, Thy burning car never had scorch'd the earth! And, Henry, hadst thou sway'd as kings should do, Or as thy father and his father did, Giving no ground unto the house of York, They never then had sprung like summer flies; I and ten thousand in this luckless realm Had left no mourning widows for our death; And thou this day hadst kept thy chair in peace For what doth cherish weeds but gentle air? And what makes robbers bold but too much lenity? Bootless are plaints, and cureless are my wounds Some troops pursue the bloody-minded Queen That led calm Henry, though he were a king, As doth a sail, fill'd with a fretting gust, Command an argosy to stern the waves No, 'tis impossible he should escape; For, though before his face I speak the words, Your brother Richard mark'd him for the grave; And, whereso'er he is, he's surely dead Whose soul is that which takes her heavy leave? A deadly groan, like life and death's departing Bring forth that fatal screech-owl to our house, That nothing sung but death to us and ours Now death shall stop his dismal threat'ning sound, And his ill-boding tongue no more shall speak Speak, Clifford, dost thou know who speaks to thee? Dark cloudy death o'ershades his beams of life, And he nor sees nor hears us what we say I know by that he's dead; and by my soul, If this right hand would buy two hours' life, That I in all despite might rail at him, This hand should chop it off, and with the issuing blood Stifle the villain whose unstanched thirst York and young Rutland could not satisfy And now to London with triumphant march, There to be crowned England's royal King; From whence shall Warwick cut the sea to France, And ask the Lady Bona for thy queen Even as thou wilt, sweet Warwick, let it be; For in thy shoulder do I build my seat, And never will I undertake the thing Wherein thy counsel and consent is wanting Richard, I will create thee Duke of Gloucester; And George, of Clarence; Warwick, as ourself, Shall do and undo as him pleaseth best That cannot be; the noise of thy cross-bow Will scare the herd, and so my shoot is lost Here stand we both, and aim we at the best; And, for the time shall not seem tedious, I'll tell thee what befell me on a day In this self-place where now we mean to stand From Scotland am I stol'n, even of pure love, To greet mine own land with my wishful sight 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 Her sighs will make a batt'ry in his breast; Her tears will pierce into a marble heart; The tiger will be mild whiles she doth mourn; And Nero will be tainted with remorse To hear and see her plaints, her brinish tears He smiles, and says his Edward is install'd; That she, poor wretch, for grief can speak no more; Whiles Warwick tells his title, smooths the wrong, Inferreth arguments of mighty strength, And in conclusion wins the King from her With promise of his sister, and what else, To strengthen and support King Edward's place In God's name, lead; your King's name be obey'd; And what God will, that let your King perform; And what he will, I humbly yield unto Brother of Gloucester, at Saint Albans' field This lady's husband, Sir Richard Grey, was slain, His land then seiz'd on by the conqueror May it please your Highness to resolve me now; And what your pleasure is shall satisfy me [Aside] Ay, good leave have you; for you will have leave Till youth take leave and leave you to the crutch My love till death, my humble thanks, my prayers; That love which virtue begs and virtue grants Sweet widow, by my state I swear to thee I speak no more than what my soul intends; And that is to enjoy thee for my love Well, jest on, brothers; I can tell you both Her suit is granted for her husband's lands My gracious lord, Henry your foe is taken And brought your prisoner to your palace gate My eye's too quick, my heart o'erweens too much, Unless my hand and strength could equal them Well, say there is no kingdom then for Richard; What other pleasure can the world afford? I'll make my heaven in a lady's lap, And deck my body in gay ornaments, And witch sweet ladies with my words and looks Why, I can smile, and murder whiles I smile, And cry 'Content!' to that which grieves my heart, And wet my cheeks with artificial tears, And frame my face to all occasions I'll drown more sailors than the mermaid shall; I'll slay more gazers than the basilisk; I'll play the orator as well as Nestor, Deceive more slily than Ulysses could, And, like a Sinon, take another Troy I can add colours to the chameleon, Change shapes with Protheus for advantages, And set the murderous Machiavel to school Enter LEWIS the French King, his sister BONA, his Admiral call'd BOURBON; PRINCE EDWARD, QUEEN MARGARET, and the EARL of OXFORD I was, I must confess, Great Albion's Queen in former golden days; But now mischance hath trod my title down And with dishonour laid me on the ground, Where I must take like seat unto my fortune, And to my humble seat conform myself From such a cause as fills mine eyes with tears And stops my tongue, while heart is drown'd in cares Those gracious words revive my drooping thoughts And give my tongue-tied sorrows leave to speak Now therefore be it known to noble Lewis That Henry, sole possessor of my love, Is, of a king, become a banish'd man, And forc'd to live in Scotland a forlorn; While proud ambitious Edward Duke of York Usurps the regal title and the seat Of England's true-anointed lawful King This is the cause that I, poor Margaret, With this my son, Prince Edward, Henry's heir, Am come to crave thy just and lawful aid; And if thou fail us, all our hope is done Scotland hath will to help, but cannot help; Our people and our peers are both misled, Our treasure seiz'd, our soldiers put to flight, And, as thou seest, ourselves in heavy plight From worthy Edward, King of Albion, My lord and sovereign, and thy vowed friend, I come, in kindness and unfeigned love, First to do greetings to thy royal person, And then to crave a league of amity, And lastly to confirm that amity With nuptial knot, if thou vouchsafe to grant That virtuous Lady Bona, thy fair sister, To England's King in lawful marriage [To BONA] And, gracious madam, in our king's behalf, I am commanded, with your leave and favour, Humbly to kiss your hand, and with my tongue To tell the passion of my sovereign's heart; Where fame, late ent'ring at his heedful ears, Hath plac'd thy beauty's image and thy virtue His demand Springs not from Edward's well-meant honest love, But from deceit bred by necessity; For how can tyrants safely govern home Unless abroad they purchase great alliance? To prove him tyrant this reason may suffice, That Henry liveth still; but were he dead, Yet here Prince Edward stands, King Henry's son Look therefore, Lewis, that by this league and marriage Thou draw not on thy danger and dishonour; For though usurpers sway the rule a while Yet heav'ns are just, and time suppresseth wrongs Can Oxford that did ever fence the right Now buckler falsehood with a pedigree? For shame! Leave Henry, and call Edward king Yet shall you have all kindness at my hand That your estate requires and mine can yield And as for you yourself, our quondam queen, You have a father able to maintain you, And better 'twere you troubled him than France Did I forget that by the house of York My father came untimely to his death? Did I let pass th' abuse done to my niece? Did I impale him with the regal crown? Did I put Henry from his native right? And am I guerdon'd at the last with shame? Shame on himself! for my desert is honour; And to repair my honour lost for him I here renounce him and return to Henry Warwick, these words have turn'd my hate to love; And I forgive and quite forget old faults, And joy that thou becom'st King Henry's friend So much his friend, ay, his unfeigned friend, That if King Lewis vouchsafe to furnish us With some few bands of chosen soldiers, I'll undertake to land them on our coast And force the tyrant from his seat by war 'Tis not his new-made bride shall succour him; And as for Clarence, as my letters tell me, He's very likely now to fall from him For matching more for wanton lust than honour Or than for strength and safety of our country 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 Tell him, in hope he'll prove a widower shortly, I'll wear the willow-garland for his sake Tell him from me that he hath done me wrong, And therefore I'll uncrown him ere't be long But, Warwick, Thou and Oxford, with five thousand men, Shall cross the seas and bid false Edward battle 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 Yes, I accept her, for she well deserves it; And here, to pledge my vow, I give my hand Matter of marriage was the charge he gave me, But dreadful war shall answer his demand Enter KING EDWARD, attended; LADY GREY, as Queen; PEMBROKE, STAFFORD, HASTINGS, and others Setting your scorns and your mislike aside, Tell me some reason why the Lady Grey Should not become my wife and England's Queen 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 Ay, what of that? it was my will and grant; And for this once my will shall stand for law Or else you would not have bestow'd the heir Of the Lord Bonville on your new wife's son, And leave your brothers to go speed elsewhere In choosing for yourself you show'd your judgment, Which being shallow, you shall give me leave To play the broker in mine own behalf; And to that end I shortly mind to leave you 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 What danger or what sorrow can befall thee, So long as Edward is thy constant friend And their true sovereign whom they must obey? Nay, whom they shall obey, and love thee too, Unless they seek for hatred at my hands; Which if they do, yet will I keep thee safe, And they shall feel the vengeance of my wrath Clarence and Somerset both gone to Warwick! Yet am I arm'd against the worst can happen; And haste is needful in this desp'rate case Pembroke and Stafford, you in our behalf Go levy men and make prepare for war; They are already, or quickly will be landed When you disgrac'd me in my embassade, Then I degraded you from being King, And come now to create you Duke of York Then, for his mind, be Edward England's king; [Takes off his crown] But Henry now shall wear the English crown And be true King indeed; thou but the shadow When I have fought with Pembroke and his fellows, I'll follow you and tell what answer Lewis and the Lady Bona send to him What fates impose, that men must needs abide; It boots not to resist both wind and tide Ay, that's the first thing that we have to do; To free King Henry from imprisonment, And see him seated in the regal throne Ay, almost slain, for he is taken prisoner; Either betray'd by falsehood of his guard Or by his foe surpris'd at unawares; And, as I further have to understand, Is new committed to the Bishop of York, Fell Warwick's brother, and by that our foe Brother, the time and case requireth haste; Your horse stands ready at the park corner No, Warwick, thou art worthy of the sway, To whom the heav'ns in thy nativity Adjudg'd an olive branch and laurel crown, As likely to be blest in peace and war; And therefore I yield thee my free consent I make you both Protectors of this land, While I myself will lead a private life And in devotion spend my latter days, To sin's rebuke and my Creator's praise We'll yoke together, like a double shadow To Henry's body, and supply his place; I mean, in bearing weight of government, While he enjoys the honour and his ease And, Clarence, now then it is more than needful Forthwith that Edward be pronounc'd a traitor, And all his lands and goods confiscated My lord, I like not of this flight of Edward's; For doubtless Burgundy will yield him help, And we shall have more wars befor't be long As Henry's late presaging prophecy Did glad my heart with hope of this young Richmond, So doth my heart misgive me, in these conflicts, What may befall him to his harm and ours The good old man would fain that all were well, So 'twere not long of him; but being ent'red, I doubt not, I, but we shall soon persuade Both him and all his brothers unto reason What! fear not, man, but yield me up the keys; [Takes his keys] For Edward will defend the town and thee, And all those friends that deign to follow me Ah, froward Clarence, how evil it beseems the To flatter Henry and forsake thy brother! Yet, as we may, we'll meet both thee and Warwick Come on, brave soldiers; doubt not of the day, And, that once gotten, doubt not of large pay What counsel, lords? Edward from Belgia, With hasty Germans and blunt Hollanders, Hath pass'd in safety through the narrow seas And with his troops doth march amain to London; And many giddy people flock to him In Warwickshire I have true-hearted friends, Not mutinous in peace, yet bold in war; Those will I muster up, and thou, son Clarence, Shalt stir up in Suffolk, Norfolk, and in Kent, The knights and gentlemen to come with thee Thou, brother Montague, in Buckingham, Northampton, and in Leicestershire, shalt find Men well inclin'd to hear what thou command'st Seize on the shame-fac'd Henry, bear him hence; And once again proclaim us King of England Now stops thy spring; my sea shall suck them dry, And swell so much the higher by their ebb At Southam I did leave him with his forces, And do expect him here some two hours hence Now, Warwick, wilt thou ope the city gates, Speak gentle words, and humbly bend thy knee, Call Edward King, and at his hands beg mercy? And he shall pardon thee these outrages Nay, rather, wilt thou draw thy forces hence, Confess who set thee up and pluck'd thee down, Call Warwick patron, and be penitent? And thou shalt still remain the Duke of York Thou art no Atlas for so great a weight; And, weakling, Warwick takes his gift again; And Henry is my King, Warwick his subject Alas, that Warwick had no more forecast, But, whiles he thought to steal the single ten, The king was slily finger'd from the deck! You left poor Henry at the Bishop's palace, And ten to one you'll meet him in the Tower Two of thy name, both Dukes of Somerset, Have sold their lives unto the house of York; And thou shalt be the third, if this sword hold I will not ruinate my father's house, Who gave his blood to lime the stones together, And set up Lancaster Alas, I am not coop'd here for defence! I will away towards Barnet presently And bid thee battle, Edward, if thou dar'st Ah, who is nigh? Come to me, friend or foe, And tell me who is victor, York or Warwick? Why ask I that? My mangled body shows, My blood, my want of strength, my sick heart shows, That I must yield my body to the earth And, by my fall, the conquest to my foe Thus yields the cedar to the axe's edge, Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle, Under whose shade the ramping lion slept, Whose top-branch overpeer'd Jove's spreading tree And kept low shrubs from winter's pow'rful wind what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust? And live we how we can, yet die we must Ah, Montague, If thou be there, sweet brother, take my hand, And with thy lips keep in my soul a while! Thou lov'st me not; for, brother, if thou didst, Thy tears would wash this cold congealed blood That glues my lips and will not let me speak 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 Say you can swim; alas, 'tis but a while! Tread on the sand; why, there you quickly sink 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 Methinks a woman of this valiant spirit Should, if a coward hear her speak these words, Infuse his breast with magnanimity And make him naked foil a man-at-arms I speak not this as doubting any here; For did I but suspect a fearful man, He should have leave to go away betimes, Lest in our need he might infect another And make him of the like spirit to himself Women and children of so high a courage, And warriors faint! Why, 'twere perpetual shame And he that will not fight for such a hope, Go home to bed and, like the owl by day, If he arise, be mock'd and wond'red at Henry, your sovereign, Is prisoner to the foe; his state usurp'd, His realm a slaughter-house, his subjects slain, His statutes cancell'd, and his treasure spent; And yonder is the wolf that makes this spoil That you might still have worn the petticoat And ne'er have stol'n the breech from Lancaster Lascivious Edward, and thou perjur'd George, And thou misshapen Dick, I tell ye all I am your better, traitors as ye are; And thou usurp'st my father's right and mine What's worse than murderer, that I may name it? No, no, my heart will burst, an if I speak- And I will speak, that so my heart may burst Discharge the common sort With pay and thanks; and let's away to London And see our gentle queen how well she fares So flies the reckless shepherd from the wolf; So first the harmless sheep doth yield his fleece, And next his throat unto the butcher's knife The bird that hath been limed in a bush With trembling wings misdoubteth every bush; And I, the hapless male to one sweet bird, Have now the fatal object in my eye Where my poor young was lim'd, was caught, and kill'd Why, what a peevish fool was that of Crete That taught his son the office of a fowl! And yet, for all his wings, the fool was drown'd Had I not reason, think ye, to make haste And seek their ruin that usurp'd our right? The midwife wonder'd; and the women cried 'O, Jesus bless us, he is born with teeth!' And so I was, which plainly signified That I should snarl, and bite, and play the dog I have no brother, I am like no brother; And this word 'love,' which greybeards call divine, Be resident in men like one another, And not in me! I am myself alone Clarence, beware; thou keep'st me from the light, But I will sort a pitchy day for thee; For I will buzz abroad such prophecies That Edward shall be fearful of his life; And then to purge his fear, I'll be thy death What valiant foemen, like to autumn's corn, Have we mow'd down in tops of all their pride! Three Dukes of Somerset, threefold renown'd For hardy and undoubted champions; Two Cliffords, as the father and the son; And two Northumberlands- two braver men Ne'er spurr'd their coursers at the trumpet's sound; With them the two brave bears, Warwick and Montague, That in their chains fetter'd the kingly lion And made the forest tremble when they roar'd Young Ned, for thee thine uncles and myself Have in our armours watch'd the winter's night, Went all afoot in summer's scalding heat, That thou might'st repossess the crown in peace; And of our labours thou shalt reap the gain This shoulder was ordain'd so thick to heave; And heave it shall some weight or break my back Clarence and Gloucester, love my lovely queen; And kiss your princely nephew, brothers both [Aside] To say the truth, so Judas kiss'd his master And cried 'All hail!' when as he meant all harm What will your Grace have done with Margaret? Reignier, her father, to the King of France Hath pawn'd the Sicils and Jerusalem, And hither have they sent it for her ransom And now what rests but that we spend the time With stately triumphs, mirthful comic shows, Such as befits the pleasure of the court? Sound drums and trumpets Only they That come to hear a merry bawdy play, A noise of targets, or to see a fellow In a long motley coat guarded with yellow, Will be deceiv'd; for, gentle hearers, know, To rank our chosen truth with such a show As fool and fight is, beside forfeiting Our own brains, and the opinion that we bring To make that only true we now intend, Will leave us never an understanding friend An untimely ague Stay'd me a prisoner in my chamber when Those suns of glory, those two lights of men, Met in the vale of Andren Now this masque Was cried incomparable; and th' ensuing night Made it a fool and beggar What had he To do in these fierce vanities? I wonder That such a keech can with his very bulk Take up the rays o' th' beneficial sun, And keep it from the earth Like it your Grace, The state takes notice of the private difference Betwixt you and the Cardinal Sir, I am thankful to you, and I'll go along By your prescription; but this top-proud fellow- Whom from the flow of gan I name not, but From sincere motions, by intelligence, And proofs as clear as founts in July when We see each grain of gravel-I do know To be corrupt and treasonous Charles the Emperor, Under pretence to see the Queen his aunt- For 'twas indeed his colour, but he came To whisper Wolsey-here makes visitation- His fears were that the interview betwixt England and France might through their amity Breed him some prejudice; for from this league Peep'd harms that menac'd him-privily Deals with our Cardinal; and, as I trow- Which I do well, for I am sure the Emperor Paid ere he promis'd; whereby his suit was granted Ere it was ask'd-but when the way was made, And pav'd with gold, the Emperor thus desir'd, That he would please to alter the King's course, And break the foresaid peace Let the King know, As soon he shall by me, that thus the Cardinal Does buy and sell his honour as he pleases, And for his own advantage Enter BRANDON, a SERGEANT-AT-ARMS before him, and two or three of the guard BRANDON Lo you, my lord, The net has fall'n upon me! I shall perish Under device and practice Enter KING HENRY, leaning on the CARDINAL'S shoulder, the NOBLES, and SIR THOMAS LOVELL, with others A noise within, crying 'Room for the Queen!' Enter the QUEEN, usher'd by the DUKES OF NORFOLK and SUFFOLK; she kneels Not almost appears- It doth appear; for, upon these taxations, The clothiers all, not able to maintain The many to them 'longing, have put of The spinsters, carders, fullers, weavers, who Unfit for other life, compell'd by hunger And lack of other means, in desperate manner Daring th' event to th' teeth, are all in uproar, And danger serves among them The grieved commons Hardly conceive of me-let it be nois'd That through our intercession this revokement And pardon comes The gentleman is learn'd and a most rare speaker; To nature none more bound; his training such That he may furnish and instruct great teachers And never seek for aid out of himself Take good heed You charge not in your spleen a noble person And spoil your nobler soul Is't possible the spells of France should juggle Men into such strange mysteries? SANDYS The reformation of our travell'd gallants, That fill the court with quarrels, talk, and tailors Now I would pray our monsieurs To think an English courtier may be wise, And never see the Louvre There, I take it, They may, cum privilegio, wear away The lag end of their lewdness and be laugh'd at Ladies, a general welcome from his Grace Salutes ye all; this night he dedicates To fair content and you This, to confirm my welcome- And to you all, good health! [Drinks] SANDYS Say, Lord Chamberlain, They have done my poor house grace; for which I pay 'em A thousand thanks, and pray 'em take their pleasures Such a one, they all confess, There is indeed; which they would have your Grace Find out, and he will take it whoever the King favours The Cardinal instantly will find employment, And far enough from court too this Duke as much They love and dote on; call him bounteous Buckingham, The mirror of all courtesy- Enter BUCKINGHAM from his arraignment, tip-staves before him; the axe with the edge towards him; halberds on each side; accompanied with SIR THOMAS LOVELL, SIR NICHOLAS VAUX, SIR WILLIAM SANDYS, and common people, etc All good people, You that thus far have come to pity me, Hear what I say, and then go home and lose me You few that lov'd me And dare be bold to weep for Buckingham, His noble friends and fellows, whom to leave Is only bitter to him, only dying, Go with me like good angels to my end; And as the long divorce of steel falls on me Make of your prayers one sweet sacrifice, And lift my soul to heaven When I came hither I was Lord High Constable And Duke of Buckingham; now, poor Edward Bohun Yet I am richer than my base accusers That never knew what truth meant; I now seal it; And with that blood will make 'em one day groan fort both Fell by our servants, by those men we lov'd most- A most unnatural and faithless service I think you have hit the mark; but is't not cruel That she should feel the smart of this? The Cardinal Will have his will, and she must fall 'My lord, 'The horses your lordship sent for, with all the care had, I saw well chosen, ridden, and furnish'd Heaven keep me from such counsel! 'Tis most true These news are everywhere; every tongue speaks 'em, And every true heart weeps for 't Who can be angry now? What envy reach you? The Spaniard, tied by blood and favour to her, Must now confess, if they have any goodness, The trial just and noble And once more in mine arms I bid him welcome, And thank the holy conclave for their loves [Aside to WOLSEY] But to be commanded For ever by your Grace, whose hand has rais'd me They will not stick to say you envied him And, fearing he would rise, he was so virtuous, Kept him a foreign man still; which so griev'd him That he ran mad and died O, my lord, Would it not grieve an able man to leave So sweet a bedfellow? But, conscience, conscience! O, 'tis a tender place! and I must leave her O, God's will! much better She ne'er had known pomp; though't be temporal, Yet, if that quarrel, fortune, do divorce It from the bearer, 'tis a sufferance panging As soul and body's severing Verily, I swear 'tis better to be lowly born And range with humble livers in content Than to be perk'd up in a glist'ring grief And wear a golden sorrow Beseech your lordship, Vouchsafe to speak my thanks and my obedience, As from a blushing handmaid, to his Highness; Whose health and royalty I pray for 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 The Marchioness of Pembroke! A thousand pounds a year for pure respect! No other obligation! By my life, That promises moe thousands 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 Sir, I desire you do me right and justice, And to bestow your pity on me; for I am a most poor woman and a stranger, Born out of your dominions, having here No judge indifferent, nor no more assurance Of equal friendship and proceeding His Grace Hath spoken well and justly; therefore, madam, It's fit this royal session do proceed And that, without delay, their arguments Be now produc'd and heard Therefore in him It lies to cure me, and the cure is to Remove these thoughts from you; the which before His Highness shall speak in, I do beseech You, gracious madam, to unthink your speaking And to say so no more 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 I must tell you You tender more your person's honour than Your high profession spiritual; that again I do refuse you for my judge and here, Before you all, appeal unto the Pope, To bring my whole cause 'fore his Holiness And to be judg'd by him 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 Thus hulling in The wild sea of my conscience, I did steer Toward this remedy, whereupon we are Now present here together; that's to say I meant to rectify my conscience, which I then did feel full sick, and yet not well, By all the reverend fathers of the land And doctors learn'd Every thing that heard him play, Even the billows of the sea, Hung their heads and then lay by Noble lady, I am sorry my integrity should breed, And service to his Majesty and you, So deep suspicion, where all faith was meant We come not by the way of accusation To taint that honour every good tongue blesses, Nor to betray you any way to sorrow- You have too much, good lady; but to know How you stand minded in the weighty difference Between the King and you, and to deliver, Like free and honest men, our just opinions And comforts to your cause Most honour'd madam, My Lord of York, out of his noble nature, Zeal and obedience he still bore your Grace, Forgetting, like a good man, your late censure Both of his truth and him-which was too far- Offers, as I do, in a sign of peace, His service and his counsel For her sake that I have been-for I feel The last fit of my greatness-good your Graces, Let me have time and counsel for my cause Madam, you wrong the King's love with these fears; Your hopes and friends are infinite The more shame for ye; holy men I thought ye, Upon my soul, two reverend cardinal virtues; But cardinal sins and hollow hearts I fear ye Have I liv'd thus long-let me speak myself, Since virtue finds no friends-a wife, a true one? A woman, I dare say without vain-glory, Never yet branded with suspicion? Have I with all my full affections Still met the King, lov'd him next heav'n, obey'd him, Been, out of fondness, superstitious to him, Almost forgot my prayers to content him, And am I thus rewarded? 'Tis not well, lords Like the My, That once was mistress of the field, and flourish'd, I'll hang my head and perish The hearts of princes kiss obedience, So much they love it; but to stubborn spirits They swell and grow as terrible as storms If you will now unite in your complaints And force them with a constancy, the Cardinal Cannot stand under them Katharine no more Shall be call'd queen, but princess dowager And widow to Prince Arthur [Aside] The late Queen's gentlewoman, a knight's daughter, To be her mistress' mistress! The Queen's queen! This candle burns not clear Again, there is sprung up An heretic, an arch one, Cranmer; one Hath crawl'd into the favour of the King, And is his oracle 'Tis well said again; And 'tis a kind of good deed to say well; And yet words are no deeds I do profess That for your Highness' good I ever labour'd More than mine own; that am, have, and will be- Though all the world should crack their duty to you, And throw it from their soul; though perils did Abound as thick as thought could make 'em, and Appear in forms more horrid-yet my duty, As doth a rock against the chiding flood, Should the approach of this wild river break, And stand unshaken yours 'Tis th' account Of all that world of wealth I have drawn together For mine own ends; indeed to gain the popedom, And fee my friends in Rome Till I find more than will or words to do it- I mean your malice-know, officious lords, I dare and must deny it The Duke by law Found his deserts; how innocent I was From any private malice in his end, His noble jury and foul cause can witness If I lov'd many words, lord, I should tell you You have as little honesty as honour, That in the way of loyalty and truth Toward the King, my ever royal master, Dare mate a sounder man than Surrey can be And an that love his follies 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 Then, that without the knowledge Either of King or Council, when you went Ambassador to the Emperor, you made bold To carry into Flanders the great seal Item, you sent a large commission To Gregory de Cassado, to conclude, Without the King's will or the state's allowance, A league between his Highness and Ferrara For your stubborn answer About the giving back the great seal to us, The King shall know it, and, no doubt, shall thank you to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hopes; to-morrow blossoms And bears his blushing honours thick upon him; The third day comes a frost, a killing frost, And when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root, And then he falls, as I do I know myself now, and I feel within me A peace above all earthly dignities, A still and quiet conscience Go get thee from me, Cromwell; I am a poor fall'n man, unworthy now To be thy lord and master Seek the King; That sun, I pray, may never set! I have told him What and how true thou art Let's dry our eyes; and thus far hear me, Cromwell, And when I am forgotten, as I shall be, And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention Of me more must be heard of, say I taught thee- Say Wolsey, that once trod the ways of glory, And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour, Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in- A sure and safe one, though thy master miss'd it Be just, and fear not; Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's; then, if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, Thou fall'st a blessed martyr! Serve the King, and-prithee lead me in The citizens, I am sure, have shown at full their royal minds- As, let 'em have their rights, they are ever forward- In celebration of this day with shows, Pageants, and sights of honour DUKE OF SUFFOLK, in his robe of estate, his coronet on his head, bearing a long white wand, as High Steward Great-bellied women, That had not half a week to go, like rams In the old time of war, would shake the press, And make 'em reel before 'em At length her Grace rose, and with modest paces Came to the altar, where she kneel'd, and saintlike Cast her fair eyes to heaven, and pray'd devoutly The King has made him Master O' th' jewel House, And one, already, of the Privy Council Come, gentlemen, ye shall go my way, which Is to th' court, and there ye shall be my guests 'O father Abbot, An old man, broken with the storms of state, Is come to lay his weary bones among ye; Give him a little earth for charity!' So went to bed; where eagerly his sickness Pursu'd him still And three nights after this, About the hour of eight-which he himself Foretold should be his last-full of repentance, Continual meditations, tears, and sorrows, He gave his honours to the world again, His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace So may he rest; his faults lie gently on him! Yet thus far, Griffith, give me leave to speak him, And yet with charity I' th' presence He would say untruths, and be ever double Both in his words and meaning His overthrow heap'd happiness upon him; For then, and not till then, he felt himself, And found the blessedness of being little Enter, solemnly tripping one after another, six PERSONAGES clad in white robes, wearing on their heads garlands of bays, and golden vizards on their faces; branches of bays or palm in their hands Then the two that held the garland deliver the same to the other next two, who observe the same order in their changes, and holding the garland over her head; which done, they deliver the same garland to the last two, who likewise observe the same order; at which, as it were by inspiration, she makes in her sleep signs of rejoicing, and holdeth up her hands to heaven Do you note How much her Grace is alter'd on the sudden? How long her face is drawn! How pale she looks, And of an earthly cold! Mark her eyes Exit MESSENGER Enter LORD CAPUCIUS If my sight fail not, You should be Lord Ambassador from the Emperor, My royal nephew, and your name Capucius Noble lady, First, mine own service to your Grace; the next, The King's request that I would visit you, Who grieves much for your weakness, and by me Sends you his princely commendations And heartily entreats you take good comfort My next poor petition Is that his noble Grace would have some pity Upon my wretched women that so long Have follow'd both my fortunes faithfully; Of which there is not one, I dare avow- And now I should not lie-but will deserve, For virtue and true beauty of the soul, For honesty and decent carriage, A right good husband, let him be a noble; And sure those men are happy that shall have 'em The last is for my men-they are the poorest, But poverty could never draw 'em from me- That they may have their wages duly paid 'em, And something over to remember me by If heaven had pleas'd to have given me longer life And able means, we had not parted thus Embalm me, Then lay me forth; although unqueen'd, yet like A queen, and daughter to a king, inter me Come, you and I must walk a turn together; I have news to tell you; come, come, me your hand Ween you of better luck, I mean in perjur'd witness, than your Master, Whose minister you are, whiles here He liv'd Upon this naughty earth? Go to, go to; You take a precipice for no leap of danger, And woo your own destruction [Aside] 'Tis Butts, The King's physician; as he pass'd along, How earnestly he cast his eyes upon me! Pray heaven he sound not my disgrace! For certain, This is of purpose laid by some that hate me- God turn their hearts! I never sought their malice- To quench mine honour; they would shame to make me Wait else at door, a fellow councillor, 'Mong boys, grooms, and lackeys The high promotion of his Grace of Canterbury; Who holds his state at door, 'mongst pursuivants, Pages, and footboys 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 My good Lord Archbishop, I am very sorry To sit here at this present, and behold That chair stand empty; but we all are men, In our own natures frail and capable Of our flesh; few are angels; out of which frailty And want of wisdom, you, that best should teach us, Have misdemean'd yourself, and not a little, Toward the King first, then his laws, in filling The whole realm by your teaching and your chaplains- For so we are inform'd-with new opinions, Divers and dangerous; which are heresies, And, not reform'd, may prove pernicious I do beseech your lordships That, in this case of justice, my accusers, Be what they will, may stand forth face to face And freely urge against me Nay, my lord, That cannot be; you are a councillor, And by that virtue no man dare accuse you Dread sovereign, how much are we bound to heaven In daily thanks, that gave us such a prince; Not only good and wise but most religious; One that in all obedience makes the church The chief aim of his honour and, to strengthen That holy duty, out of dear respect, His royal self in judgment comes to hear The cause betwixt her and this great offender But know I come not To hear such flattery now, and in my presence They are too thin and bare to hide offences To me you cannot reach you play the spaniel, And think with wagging of your tongue to win me; But whatsoe'er thou tak'st me for, I'm sure Thou hast a cruel nature and a bloody I had thought I had had men of some understanding And wisdom of my Council; but I find none That is, a fair young maid that yet wants baptism; You must be godfather, and answer for her Will these please you? Once more, my Lord of Winchester, I charge you, Embrace and love this man 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 What should you do, but knock 'em down by th' dozens? Is this Moorfields to muster in? Or have we some strange Indian with the great tool come to court, the women so besiege us? Bless me, what a fry of fornication is at door! On my Christian conscience, this one christening will beget a thousand That fire-drake did I hit three times on the head, and three times was his nose discharged against me; he stands there like a mortar-piece, to blow us At length they came to th' broomstaff to me; I defied 'em still; when suddenly a file of boys behind 'em, loose shot, deliver'd such a show'r of pebbles that I was fain to draw mine honour in and let 'em win the work Mercy o' me, what a multitude are here! They grow still too; from all parts they are coming, As if we kept a fair here! Where are these porters, These lazy knaves? Y'have made a fine hand, fellows The palace Enter TRUMPETS, sounding; then two ALDERMEN, LORD MAYOR, GARTER, CRANMER, DUKE OF NORFOLK, with his marshal's staff, DUKE OF SUFFOLK, two Noblemen bearing great standing-bowls for the christening gifts; then four Noblemen bearing a canopy, under which the DUCHESS OF NORFOLK, godmother, bearing the CHILD richly habited in a mantle, etc., train borne by a LADY; then follows the MARCHIONESS DORSET, the other godmother, and LADIES [Kneeling] And to your royal Grace and the good Queen! My noble partners and myself thus pray She shall be- But few now living can behold that goodness- A pattern to all princes living with her, And all that shall succeed Truth shall nurse her, Holy and heavenly thoughts still counsel her; She shall be lov'd and fear'd God shall be truly known; and those about her From her shall read the perfect ways of honour, And by those claim their greatness, not by blood Nor shall this peace sleep with her; but as when The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix Her ashes new create another heir As great in admiration as herself, So shall she leave her blessedness to one- When heaven shall call her from this cloud of darkness- Who from the sacred ashes of her honour Shall star-like rise, as great in fame as she was, And so stand fix'd Peace, plenty, love, truth, terror, That were the servants to this chosen infant, Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him; Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine, His honour and the greatness of his name Shall be, and make new nations; he shall flourish, And like a mountain cedar reach his branches To all the plains about him; our children's children Shall see this and bless heaven She shall be, to the happiness of England, An aged princess; many days shall see her, And yet no day without a deed to crown it Would I had known no more! But she must die- She must, the saints must have her-yet a virgin; A most unspotted lily shall she pass To th' ground, and all the world shall mourn her This oracle of comfort has so pleas'd me That when I am in heaven I shall desire To see what this child does, and praise my Maker To you, my good Lord Mayor, And you, good brethren, I am much beholding; I have receiv'd much honour by your presence, And ye shall find me thankful Thus, after greeting, speaks the King of France In my behaviour to the majesty, The borrowed majesty, of England here Philip of France, in right and true behalf Of thy deceased brother Geffrey's son, Arthur Plantagenet, lays most lawful claim To this fair island and the territories, To Ireland, Poictiers, Anjou, Touraine, Maine, Desiring thee to lay aside the sword Which sways usurpingly these several titles, And put the same into young Arthur's hand, Thy nephew and right royal sovereign Your strong possession much more than your right, Or else it must go wrong with you and me; So much my conscience whispers in your ear, Which none but heaven and you and I shall hear Most certain of one mother, mighty king- That is well known- and, as I think, one father; But for the certain knowledge of that truth I put you o'er to heaven and to my mother Out on thee, rude man! Thou dost shame thy mother, And wound her honour with this diffidence But once he slander'd me with bastardy; But whe'er I be as true begot or no, That still I lay upon my mother's head; But that I am as well begot, my liege- Fair fall the bones that took the pains for me!- Compare our faces and be judge yourself Then, good my liege, let me have what is mine, My father's land, as was my father's will My mother's son did get your father's heir; Your father's heir must have your father's land Wilt thou forsake thy fortune, Bequeath thy land to him and follow me? I am a soldier and now bound to France Your face hath got five hundred pound a year, Yet sell your face for fivepence and 'tis dear Brother by th' mother's side, give me your hand; My father gave me honour, yours gave land Madam, by chance, but not by truth; what though? Something about, a little from the right, In at the window, or else o'er the hatch; Who dares not stir by day must walk by night; And have is have, however men do catch Exeunt all but the BASTARD A foot of honour better than I was; But many a many foot of land the worse 'My dear sir,' Thus leaning on mine elbow I begin 'I shall beseech you'-That is question now; And then comes answer like an Absey book Sir Robert's son! Ay, thou unreverend boy, Sir Robert's son! Why scorn'st thou at Sir Robert? He is Sir Robert's son, and so art thou Exit GURNEY Madam, I was not old Sir Robert's son; Sir Robert might have eat his part in me Upon Good Friday, and ne'er broke his fast your fault was not your folly; Needs must you lay your heart at his dispose, Subjected tribute to commanding love, Against whose fury and unmatched force The aweless lion could not wage the fight Nor keep his princely heart from Richard's hand The peace of heaven is theirs that lift their swords In such a just and charitable war In brief, a braver choice of dauntless spirits Than now the English bottoms have waft o'er Did never float upon the swelling tide To do offence and scathe in Christendom That Geffrey was thy elder brother born, And this his son; England was Geffrey's right, And this is Geffrey's From that supernal judge that stirs good thoughts In any breast of strong authority To look into the blots and stains of right That judge hath made me guardian to this boy, Under whose warrant I impeach thy wrong, And by whose help I mean to chastise it Arthur of Britaine, yield thee to my hand, And out of my dear love I'll give thee more Than e'er the coward hand of France can win Do, child, go to it grandam, child; Give grandam kingdom, and it grandam will Give it a plum, a cherry, and a fig Now shame upon you, whe'er she does or no! His grandam's wrongs, and not his mother's shames, Draws those heaven-moving pearls from his poor eyes, Which heaven shall take in nature of a fee; Ay, with these crystal beads heaven shall be brib'd To do him justice and revenge on you Be pleased then To pay that duty which you truly owe To him that owes it, namely, this young prince; And then our arms, like to a muzzled bear, Save in aspect, hath all offence seal'd up; Our cannons' malice vainly shall be spent Against th' invulnerable clouds of heaven; And with a blessed and unvex'd retire, With unhack'd swords and helmets all unbruis'd, We will bear home that lusty blood again Which here we came to spout against your town, And leave your children, wives, and you, in peace Saint George, that swing'd the dragon, and e'er since Sits on's horse back at mine hostess' door, Teach us some fence! [To AUSTRIA] Sirrah, were I at home, At your den, sirrah, with your lioness, I would set an ox-head to your lion's hide, And make a monster of you You men of Angiers, open wide your gates And let young Arthur, Duke of Britaine, in, Who by the hand of France this day hath made Much work for tears in many an English mother, Whose sons lie scattered on the bleeding ground; Many a widow's husband grovelling lies, Coldly embracing the discoloured earth; And victory with little loss doth play Upon the dancing banners of the French, Who are at hand, triumphantly displayed, To enter conquerors, and to proclaim Arthur of Britaine England's King and yours King John, your king and England's, doth approach, Commander of this hot malicious day Blood hath bought blood, and blows have answer'd blows; Strength match'd with strength, and power confronted power; Both are alike, and both alike we like In us that are our own great deputy And bear possession of our person here, Lord of our presence, Angiers, and of you A greater pow'r than we denies all this; And till it be undoubted, we do lock Our former scruple in our strong-barr'd gates; King'd of our fears, until our fears, resolv'd, Be by some certain king purg'd and depos'd By heaven, these scroyles of Angiers flout you, kings, And stand securely on their battlements As in a theatre, whence they gape and point At your industrious scenes and acts of death 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 [Aside] O prudent discipline! From north to south, Austria and France shoot in each other's mouth That daughter there of Spain, the Lady Blanch, Is niece to England; look upon the years Of Lewis the Dauphin and that lovely maid Urge them while their souls Are capable of this ambition, Lest zeal, now melted by the windy breath Of soft petitions, pity, and remorse, Cool and congeal again to what it was 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 I do, my lord, and in her eye I find A wonder, or a wondrous miracle, The shadow of myself form'd in her eye; Which, being but the shadow of your son, Becomes a sun, and makes your son a shadow Then do I give Volquessen, Touraine, Maine, Poictiers, and Anjou, these five provinces, With her to thee; and this addition more, Full thirty thousand marks of English coin Philip of France, if thou be pleas'd withal, Command thy son and daughter to join hands Mad world! mad kings! mad composition! John, to stop Arthur's tide in the whole, Hath willingly departed with a part; And France, whose armour conscience buckled on, Whom zeal and charity brought to the field As God's own soldier, rounded in the ear With that same purpose-changer, that sly devil, That broker that still breaks the pate of faith, That daily break-vow, he that wins of all, Of kings, of beggars, old men, young men, maids, Who having no external thing to lose But the word 'maid,' cheats the poor maid of that; That smooth-fac'd gentleman, tickling commodity, Commodity, the bias of the world- The world, who of itself is peised well, Made to run even upon even ground, Till this advantage, this vile-drawing bias, This sway of motion, this commodity, Makes it take head from all indifferency, From all direction, purpose, course, intent- And this same bias, this commodity, This bawd, this broker, this all-changing word, Clapp'd on the outward eye of fickle France, Hath drawn him from his own determin'd aid, From a resolv'd and honourable war, To a most base and vile-concluded peace Thou shalt be punish'd for thus frighting me, For I am sick and capable of fears, Oppress'd with wrongs, and therefore full of fears; A widow, husbandless, subject to fears; A woman, naturally born to fears; And though thou now confess thou didst but jest, With my vex'd spirits I cannot take a truce, But they will quake and tremble all this day But thou art fair, and at thy birth, dear boy, Nature and Fortune join'd to make thee great Of Nature's gifts thou mayst with lilies boast, And with the half-blown rose; but Fortune, O! She is corrupted, chang'd, and won from thee; Sh' adulterates hourly with thine uncle John, And with her golden hand hath pluck'd on France To tread down fair respect of sovereignty, And made his majesty the bawd to theirs Thou mayst, thou shalt; I will not go with thee; I will instruct my sorrows to be proud, For grief is proud, and makes his owner stoop The grappling vigour and rough frown of war Is cold in amity and painted peace, And our oppression hath made up this league Thou slave, thou wretch, thou coward! Thou little valiant, great in villainy! Thou ever strong upon the stronger side! Thou Fortune's champion that dost never fight But when her humorous ladyship is by To teach thee safety! Thou art perjur'd too, And sooth'st up greatness What a fool art thou, A ramping fool, to brag and stamp and swear Upon my party! Thou cold-blooded slave, Hast thou not spoke like thunder on my side, Been sworn my soldier, bidding me depend Upon thy stars, thy fortune, and thy strength, And dost thou now fall over to my foes? Thou wear a lion's hide! Doff it for shame, And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs I Pandulph, of fair Milan cardinal, And from Pope Innocent the legate here, Do in his name religiously demand Why thou against the Church, our holy mother, So wilfully dost spurn; and force perforce Keep Stephen Langton, chosen Archbishop Of Canterbury, from that holy see? This, in our foresaid holy father's name, Pope Innocent, I do demand of thee 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 Though you and all the kings of Christendom Are led so grossly by this meddling priest, Dreading the curse that money may buy out, And by the merit of vile gold, dross, dust, Purchase corrupted pardon of a man, Who in that sale sells pardon from himself- Though you and all the rest, so grossly led, This juggling witchcraft with revenue cherish; Yet I alone, alone do me oppose Against the Pope, and count his friends my foes And for mine too; when law can do no right, Let it be lawful that law bar no wrong; Law cannot give my child his kingdom here, For he that holds his kingdom holds the law; Therefore, since law itself is perfect wrong, How can the law forbid my tongue to curse? PANDULPH Bethink you, father; for the difference Is purchase of a heavy curse from Rome Or the light loss of England for a friend And shall these hands, so lately purg'd of blood, So newly join'd in love, so strong in both, Unyoke this seizure and this kind regreet? Play fast and loose with faith? so jest with heaven, Make such unconstant children of ourselves, As now again to snatch our palm from palm, Unswear faith sworn, and on the marriage-bed Of smiling peace to march a bloody host, And make a riot on the gentle brow Of true sincerity? O, holy sir, My reverend father, let it not be so! Out of your grace, devise, ordain, impose, Some gentle order; and then we shall be blest To do your pleasure, and continue friends France, thou mayst hold a serpent by the tongue, A chafed lion by the mortal paw, A fasting tiger safer by the tooth, Than keep in peace that hand which thou dost hold It is religion that doth make vows kept; But thou hast sworn against religion By what thou swear'st against the thing thou swear'st, And mak'st an oath the surety for thy truth Against an oath; the truth thou art unsure To swear swears only not to be forsworn; Else what a mockery should it be to swear! But thou dost swear only to be forsworn; And most forsworn to keep what thou dost swear each army hath a hand; And in their rage, I having hold of both, They whirl asunder and dismember me Husband, I cannot pray that thou mayst win; Uncle, I needs must pray that thou mayst lose; Father, I may not wish the fortune thine; Grandam, I will not wish thy wishes thrive Exit BASTARD France, I am burn'd up with inflaming wrath, A rage whose heat hath this condition That nothing can allay, nothing but blood, The blood, and dearest-valu'd blood, of France Now, by my life, this day grows wondrous hot; Some airy devil hovers in the sky And pours down mischief Bell, book, and candle, shall not drive me back, When gold and silver becks me to come on But, ah, I will not! Yet I love thee well; And, by my troth, I think thou lov'st me well So by a roaring tempest on the flood A whole armado of convicted sail Is scattered and disjoin'd from fellowship No, I defy all counsel, all redress, But that which ends all counsel, true redress- Death, death; O amiable lovely death! Thou odoriferous stench! sound rottenness! Arise forth from the couch of lasting night, Thou hate and terror to prosperity, And I will kiss thy detestable bones, And put my eyeballs in thy vaulty brows, And ring these fingers with thy household worms, And stop this gap of breath with fulsome dust, And be a carrion monster like thyself this hair I tear is mine; My name is Constance; I was Geffrey's wife; Young Arthur is my son, and he is lost O, if I could, what grief should I forget! Preach some philosophy to make me mad, And thou shalt be canoniz'd, Cardinal; For, being not mad, but sensible of grief, My reasonable part produces reason How I may be deliver'd of these woes, And teaches me to kill or hang myself Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man; And bitter shame hath spoil'd the sweet world's taste, That it yields nought but shame and bitterness Now hear me speak with a prophetic spirit; For even the breath of what I mean to speak Shall blow each dust, each straw, each little rub, Out of the path which shall directly lead Thy foot to England's throne How green you are and fresh in this old world! John lays you plots; the times conspire with you; For he that steeps his safety in true blood Shall find but bloody safety and untrue By my christendom, So I were out of prison and kept sheep, I should be as merry as the day is long; And so I would be here but that I doubt My uncle practises more harm to me; He is afraid of me, and I of him [Aside] If I talk to him, with his innocent prate He will awake my mercy, which lies dead; Therefore I will be sudden and dispatch 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 Alas, what need you be so boist'rous rough? I will not struggle, I will stand stone-still O, spare mine eyes, Though to no use but still to look on you! Lo, by my troth, the instrument is cold And would not harm me There is no malice in this burning coal; The breath of heaven hath blown his spirit out, And strew'd repentant ashes on his head 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 Therefore, to be possess'd with double pomp, To guard a title that was rich before, To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, To throw a perfume on the violet, To smooth the ice, or add another hue Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, Is wasteful and ridiculous excess To this effect, before you were new-crown'd, We breath'd our counsel; but it pleas'd your Highness To overbear it; and we are all well pleas'd, Since all and every part of what we would Doth make a stand at what your Highness will Meantime but ask What you would have reform'd that is not well, And well shall you perceive how willingly I will both hear and grant you your requests Good lords, although my will to give is living, The suit which you demand is gone and dead O, let me have no subject enemies When adverse foreigners affright my towns With dreadful pomp of stout invasion! Be Mercury, set feathers to thy heels, And fly like thought from them to me again Exit BASTARD Go after him; for he perhaps shall need Some messenger betwixt me and the peers; And be thou he I saw a smith stand with his hammer, thus, The whilst his iron did on the anvil cool, With open mouth swallowing a tailor's news; Who, with his shears and measure in his hand, Standing on slippers, which his nimble haste Had falsely thrust upon contrary feet, Told of a many thousand warlike French That were embattailed and rank'd in Kent Why seek'st thou to possess me with these fears? Why urgest thou so oft young Arthur's death? Thy hand hath murd'red him Hadst thou but shook thy head or made pause, When I spake darkly what I purposed, Or turn'd an eye of doubt upon my face, As bid me tell my tale in express words, Deep shame had struck me dumb, made me break off, And those thy fears might have wrought fears in me Out of my sight, and never see me more! My nobles leave me; and my state is braved, Even at my gates, with ranks of foreign pow'rs; Nay, in the body of the fleshly land, This kingdom, this confine of blood and breath, Hostility and civil tumult reigns Between my conscience and my cousin's death It is a damned and a bloody work; The graceless action of a heavy hand, If that it be the work of any hand I would not have you, lord, forget yourself, Nor tempt the danger of my true defence; Lest I, by marking of your rage, forget Your worth, your greatness and nobility Trust not those cunning waters of his eyes, For villainy is not without such rheum; And he, long traded in it, makes it seem Like rivers of remorse and innocency I'll to the King; A thousand businesses are brief in hand, And heaven itself doth frown upon the land [Gives back the crown] Take again From this my hand, as holding of the Pope, Your sovereign greatness and authority It was my breath that blew this tempest up, Upon your stubborn usage of the Pope; But since you are a gentle convertite, My tongue shall hush again this storm of war And make fair weather in your blust'ring land They found him dead, and cast into the streets, An empty casket, where the jewel of life By some damn'd hand was robbed and ta'en away Away, and glister like the god of war When he intendeth to become the field; Show boldness and aspiring confidence What, shall they seek the lion in his den, And fright him there, and make him tremble there? O, let it not be said! Forage, and run To meet displeasure farther from the doors And grapple with him ere he come so nigh O inglorious league! Shall we, upon the footing of our land, Send fair-play orders, and make compromise, Insinuation, parley, and base truce, To arms invasive? Shall a beardless boy, A cock'red silken wanton, brave our fields And flesh his spirit in a warlike soil, Mocking the air with colours idly spread, And find no check? Let us, my liege, to arms My Lord Melun, let this be copied out And keep it safe for our remembrance; Return the precedent to these lords again, That, having our fair order written down, Both they and we, perusing o'er these notes, May know wherefore we took the sacrament, And keep our faiths firm and inviolable O, it grieves my soul That I must draw this metal from my side To be a widow-maker! O, and there Where honourable rescue and defence Cries out upon the name of Salisbury! But such is the infection of the time That, for the health and physic of our right, We cannot deal but with the very hand Of stern injustice and confused wrong King John hath reconcil'd Himself to Rome; his spirit is come in, That so stood out against the holy Church, The great metropolis and see of Rome Therefore thy threat'ning colours now wind up And tame the savage spirit of wild war, That, like a lion fostered up at hand, It may lie gently at the foot of peace And be no further harmful than in show Outside or inside, I will not return Till my attempt so much be glorified As to my ample hope was promised Before I drew this gallant head of war, And cull'd these fiery spirits from the world To outlook conquest, and to will renown Even in the jaws of danger and of death My holy lord of Milan, from the King I come, to learn how you have dealt for him; And, as you answer, I do know the scope And warrant limited unto my tongue And you degenerate, you ingrate revolts, You bloody Neroes, ripping up the womb Of your dear mother England, blush for shame; For your own ladies and pale-visag'd maids, Like Amazons, come tripping after drums, Their thimbles into armed gauntlets change, Their needles to lances, and their gentle hearts To fierce and bloody inclination Strike up the drums; and let the tongue of war, Plead for our interest and our being here Sound but another, and another shall, As loud as thine, rattle the welkin's ear And mock the deep-mouth'd thunder; for at hand- Not trusting to this halting legate here, Whom he hath us'd rather for sport than need- Is warlike John; and in his forehead sits A bare-ribb'd death, whose office is this day To feast upon whole thousands of the French My lord, your valiant kinsman, Faulconbridge, Desires your Majesty to leave the field And send him word by me which way you go Set on toward Swinstead; to my litter straight; Weakness possesseth me, and I am faint Fly, noble English, you are bought and sold; Unthread the rude eye of rebellion, And welcome home again discarded faith Thus hath he sworn, And I with him, and many moe with me, Upon the altar at Saint Edmundsbury; Even on that altar where we swore to you Dear amity and everlasting love 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 The Count Melun is slain; the English lords By his persuasion are again fall'n off, And your supply, which you have wish'd so long, Are cast away and sunk on Goodwin Sands Why, know you not? The lords are all come back, And brought Prince Henry in their company; At whose request the King hath pardon'd them, And they are all about his Majesty I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death, And from the organ-pipe of frailty sings His soul and body to their lasting rest Be of good comfort, Prince; for you are born To set a form upon that indigest Which he hath left so shapeless and so rude 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 I do not ask you much; I beg cold comfort; and you are so strait And so ingrateful you deny me that O cousin, thou art come to set mine eye! The tackle of my heart is crack'd and burnt, And all the shrouds wherewith my life should sail Are turned to one thread, one little hair; My heart hath one poor string to stay it by, Which holds but till thy news be uttered; And then all this thou seest is but a clod And module of confounded royalty Now, now, you stars that move in your right spheres, Where be your pow'rs? Show now your mended faiths, And instantly return with me again To push destruction and perpetual shame Out of the weak door of our fainting land Thither shall it, then; And happily may your sweet self put on The lineal state and glory of the land! To whom, with all submission, on my knee I do bequeath my faithful services And true subjection everlastingly I have a kind soul that would give you thanks, And knows not how to do it but with tears Now these her princes are come home again, Come the three corners of the world in arms, And we shall shock them Dramatis Personae JULIUS CAESAR, Roman statesman and general OCTAVIUS, Triumvir after Caesar's death, later Augustus Caesar, first emperor of Rome MARK ANTONY, general and friend of Caesar, a Triumvir after his death LEPIDUS, third member of the Triumvirate MARCUS BRUTUS, leader of the conspiracy against Caesar CASSIUS, instigator of the conspiracy CASCA, conspirator against Caesar TREBONIUS, " " " CAIUS LIGARIUS, " " " DECIUS BRUTUS, " " " METELLUS CIMBER, " " " CINNA, " " " CALPURNIA, wife of Caesar PORTIA, wife of Brutus CICERO, senator POPILIUS, " POPILIUS LENA, " FLAVIUS, tribune MARULLUS, tribune CATO, supportor of Brutus LUCILIUS, " " " TITINIUS, " " " MESSALA, " " " VOLUMNIUS, " " " ARTEMIDORUS, a teacher of rhetoric CINNA, a poet VARRO, servant to Brutus CLITUS, " " " CLAUDIO, " " " STRATO, " " " LUCIUS, " " " DARDANIUS, " " " PINDARUS, servant to Cassius The Ghost of Caesar A Soothsayer A Poet Senators, Citizens, Soldiers, Commoners, Messengers, and Servants These growing feathers pluck'd from Caesar's wing Will make him fly an ordinary pitch, Who else would soar above the view of men And keep us all in servile fearfulness But wherefore do you hold me here so long? What is it that you would impart to me? If it be aught toward the general good, Set honor in one eye and death i' the other And I will look on both indifferently For once, upon a raw and gusty day, The troubled Tiber chafing with her shores, Caesar said to me, "Darest thou, Cassius, now Leap in with me into this angry flood And swim to yonder point?" Upon the word, Accoutred as I was, I plunged in And bade him follow The torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it With lusty sinews, throwing it aside And stemming it with hearts of controversy Ye gods! It doth amaze me A man of such a feeble temper should So get the start of the majestic world And bear the palm alone What you have said I will consider; what you have to say I will with patience hear, and find a time Both meet to hear and answer such high things But, look you, Cassius, The angry spot doth glow on Caesar's brow, And all the rest look like a chidden train Such men as he be never at heart's ease Whiles they behold a greater than themselves, And therefore are they very dangerous Come on my right hand, for this ear is deaf, And tell me truly what thou think'st of him I saw Mark Antony offer him a crown (yet 'twas not a crown neither, 'twas one of these coronets) and, as I told you, he put it by once And then he offered it the third time; he put it the third time by; and still as he refused it, the rabblement hooted and clapped their chopped hands and threw up their sweaty nightcaps and uttered such a deal of stinking breath because Caesar refused the crown that it had almost choked Caesar, for he swounded and fell down at it And for mine own part, I durst not laugh for fear of opening my lips and receiving the bad air No, Caesar hath it not, but you, and I, And honest Casca, we have the falling sickness Marry, before he fell down, when he perceived the common herd was glad he refused the crown, he plucked me ope his doublet and offered them his throat to cut Tomorrow, if you please to speak with me, I will come home to you, or, if you will, Come home to me and I will wait for you And there were drawn Upon a heap a hundred ghastly women Transformed with their fear, who swore they saw Men all in fire walk up and down the streets And yesterday the bird of night did sit Even at noonday upon the marketplace, Howling and shrieking For my part, I have walk'd about the streets, Submitting me unto the perilous night, And thus unbraced, Casca, as you see, Have bared my bosom to the thunderstone; And when the cross blue lightning seem'd to open The breast of heaven, I did present myself Even in the aim and very flash of it Now could I, Casca, name to thee a man Most like this dreadful night, That thunders, lightens, opens graves, and roars As doth the lion in the Capitol, A man no mightier than thyself or me In personal action, yet prodigious grown And fearful, as these strange eruptions are But, woe the while! Our fathers' minds are dead, And we are govern'd with our mothers' spirits; Our yoke and sufferance show us womanish For now, this fearful night, There is no stir or walking in the streets, And the complexion of the element In favor's like the work we have in hand, Most bloody, fiery, and most terrible O, he sits high in all the people's hearts, And that which would appear offense in us, His countenance, like richest alchemy, Will change to virtue and to worthiness Let us go, For it is after midnight, and ere day We will awake him and be sure of him And, since the quarrel Will bear no color for the thing he is, Fashion it thus, that what he is, augmented, Would run to these and these extremities; And therefore think him as a serpent's egg Which hatch'd would as his kind grow mischievous, And kill him in the shell Enter the conspirators, Cassius, Casca, Decius, Cinna, Metellus Cimber, and Trebonius Some two months hence up higher toward the north He first presents his fire, and the high east Stands as the Capitol, directly here O, let us have him, for his silver hairs Will purchase us a good opinion, And buy men's voices to commend our deeds We shall find of him A shrewd contriver; and you know his means, If he improve them, may well stretch so far As to annoy us all, which to prevent, Let Antony and Caesar fall together We all stand up against the spirit of Caesar, And in the spirit of men there is no blood O, that we then could come by Caesar's spirit, And not dismember Caesar! But, alas, Caesar must bleed for it! And, gentle friends, Let's kill him boldly, but not wrathfully; Let's carve him as a dish fit for the gods, Not hew him as a carcass fit for hounds; And let our hearts, as subtle masters do, Stir up their servants to an act of rage And after seem to chide 'em And that were much he should, for he is given To sports, to wildness, and much company There is no fear in him-let him not die, For he will live and laugh at this hereafter But it is doubtful yet Whether Caesar will come forth today or no, For he is superstitious grown of late, Quite from the main opinion he held once Of fantasy, of dreams, and ceremonies Let me work; For I can give his humor the true bent, And I will bring him to the Capitol He loves me well, and I have given him reasons; Send him but hither, and I'll fashion him We'll leave you, Brutus, And, friends, disperse yourselves, but all remember What you have said and show yourselves true Romans 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 I urged you further; then you scratch'd your head, And too impatiently stamp'd with your foot A lioness hath whelped in the streets; And graves have yawn'd, and yielded up their dead; Fierce fiery warriors fight upon the clouds, In ranks and squadrons and right form of war, Which drizzled blood upon the Capitol; The noise of battle hurtled in the air, Horses did neigh and dying men did groan, And ghosts did shriek and squeal about the streets And you are come in very happy time To bear my greeting to the senators And tell them that I will not come today Calpurnia here, my wife, stays me at home; She dreamt tonight she saw my statue, Which, like a fountain with an hundred spouts, Did run pure blood, and many lusty Romans Came smiling and did bathe their hands in it Your statue spouting blood in many pipes, In which so many smiling Romans bathed, Signifies that from you great Rome shall suck Reviving blood, and that great men shall press For tinctures, stains, relics, and cognizance Besides, it were a mock Apt to be render'd, for someone to say "Break up the Senate till another time, When Caesar's wife shall meet with better dreams." If Caesar hide himself, shall they not whisper "Lo, Caesar is afraid"? Pardon me, Caesar, for my dear dear love To your proceeding bids me tell you this, And reason to my love is liable Enter Publius, Brutus, Ligarius, Metellus, Casca, Trebonius, and Cinna Good friends, go in and taste some wine with me, And we like friends will straightway go together The mighty gods defend thee! Thy lover, Artemidorus." Here will I stand till Caesar pass along, And as a suitor will I give him this Enter Caesar, Brutus, Cassius, Casca, Decius, Metellus, Trebonius, Cinna, Antony, Lepidus, Popilius, Publius, and others Popilius Lena speaks not of our purposes; For, look, he smiles, and Caesar doth not change Be not fond To think that Caesar bears such rebel blood That will be thaw'd from the true quality With that which melteth fools- I mean sweet words, Low-crooked court'sies, and base spaniel-fawning So in the world, 'tis furnish'd well with men, And men are flesh and blood, and apprehensive; Yet in the number I do know but one That unassailable holds on his rank, Unshaked of motion; and that I am he, Let me a little show it, even in this; That I was constant Cimber should be banish'd, And constant do remain to keep him so Speak, hands, for me! Casca first, then the other Conspirators and Marcus Brutus stab Caesar That we shall die, we know; 'tis but the time And drawing days out that men stand upon Brutus shall lead, and we will grace his heels With the most boldest and best hearts of Rome Thus, Brutus, did my master bid me kneel, Thus did Mark Antony bid me fall down, And, being prostrate, thus he bade me say Brutus is noble, wise, valiant, and honest; Caesar was mighty, bold, royal, and loving Live a thousand years, I shall not find myself so apt to die; No place will please me so, no means of death, As here by Caesar, and by you cut off, The choice and master spirits of this age O Antony, beg not your death of us! Though now we must appear bloody and cruel, As, by our hands and this our present act You see we do, yet see you but our hands And this the bleeding business they have done 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 Pardon me, Julius! Here wast thou bay'd, brave hart, Here didst thou fall, and here thy hunters stand, Sign'd in thy spoil, and crimson'd in thy Lethe O world, thou wast the forest to this hart, And this, indeed, O world, the heart of thee Friends am I with you all and love you all, Upon this hope that you shall give me reasons Why and wherein Caesar was dangerous By your pardon, I will myself into the pulpit first, And show the reason of our Caesar's death What Antony shall speak, I will protest He speaks by leave and by permission, And that we are contented Caesar shall Have all true rites and lawful ceremonies Here is a mourning Rome, a dangerous Rome, No Rome of safety for Octavius yet; Hie hence, and tell him so There is tears for his love, joy for his fortune, honor for his valor, and death for his ambition The noble Brutus Hath told you Caesar was ambitious; If it were so, it was a grievous fault, And grievously hath Caesar answer'd it He was my friend, faithful and just to me; But Brutus says he was ambitious, And Brutus is an honorable man Was this ambition? Yet Brutus says he was ambitious, And sure he is an honorable man You all did love him once, not without cause; What cause withholds you then to mourn for him? O judgement, thou art fled to brutish beasts, And men have lost their reason Bear with me; My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar, And I must pause till it come back to me You will compel me then to read the will? Then make a ring about the corse of Caesar, And let me show you him that made the will I only speak right on; I tell you that which you yourselves do know; Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor dumb mouths, And bid them speak for me But were I Brutus, And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony Would ruffle up your spirits and put a tongue In every wound of Caesar that should move The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny Moreover, he hath left you all his walks, His private arbors, and new-planted orchards, On this side Tiber; he hath left them you, And to your heirs forever- common pleasures, To walk abroad and recreate yourselves Come, away, away! We'll burn his body in the holy place And with the brands fire the traitors' houses What is my name? Whither am I going? Where do I dwell? Am I a married man or a bachelor? Then, to answer every man directly and briefly, wisely and truly So you thought him, And took his voice who should be prick'd to die In our black sentence and proscription Octavius, I have seen more days than you, And though we lay these honors on this man To ease ourselves of divers slanderous loads, He shall but bear them as the ass bears gold, To groan and sweat under the business, Either led or driven, as we point the way; And having brought our treasure where we will, Then take we down his load and turn him off, Like to the empty ass, to shake his ears And graze in commons Brutus and Cassius Are levying powers; we must straight make head; Therefore let our alliance be combined, Our best friends made, our means stretch'd; And let us presently go sit in council, How covert matters may be best disclosed, And open perils surest answered I do not doubt But that my noble master will appear Such as he is, full of regard and honor Bid them move away; Then in my tent, Cassius, enlarge your griefs, And I will give you audience The name of Cassius honors this corruption, And chastisement doth therefore hide his head O Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb, That carries anger as the flint bears fire, Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark And straight is cold again Yes, Cassius, and from henceforth, When you are overearnest with your Brutus, He'll think your mother chides, and leave you so Impatient of my absence, And grief that young Octavius with Mark Antony Have made themselves so strong- for with her death That tidings came- with this she fell distract, And (her attendants absent) swallow'd fire 'Tis better that the enemy seek us; So shall he waste his means, weary his soldiers, Doing himself offense, whilst we lying still Are full of rest, defense, and nimbleness There is a tide in the affairs of men Which taken at the flood leads on to fortune; Omitted, all the voyage of their life Is bound in shallows and in miseries Farewell, good Messala; Good night, Titinius; noble, noble Cassius, Good night and good repose If thou dost nod, thou break'st thy instrument; I'll take it from thee; and, good boy, good night Go and commend me to my brother Cassius; Bid him set on his powers betimes before, And we will follow Their battles are at hand; They mean to warn us at Philippi here, Answering before we do demand of them The enemy comes on in gallant show; Their bloody sign of battle is hung out, And something to be done immediately Antony, The posture of your blows are yet unknown; But for your words, they rob the Hybla bees, And leave them honeyless O, yes, and soundless too, For you have stol'n their buzzing, Antony, And very wisely threat before you sting Why, now, blow and, swell billow, and swim bark! The storm is up, and all is on the hazard O, that a man might know The end of this day's business ere it come! But it sufficeth that the day will end, And then the end is known Let them set on at once, for I perceive But cold demeanor in Octavia's wing, And sudden push gives them the overthrow This ensign here of mine was turning back; I slew the coward, and did take it from him Go, Pindarus, get higher on that hill; My sight was ever thick; regard Titinius, And tell me what thou notest about the field O young and noble Cato, art thou down? Why, now thou diest as bravely as Titinius, And mayst be honor'd, being Cato's son The ghost of Caesar hath appear'd to me Two several times by night; at Sardis once, And this last night here in Philippi fields The conquerors can but make a fire of him; For Brutus only overcame himself, And no man else hath honor by his death All the conspirators, save only he, Did that they did in envy of great Caesar; He only, in a general honest thought And common good to all, made one of them Sir, this young fellow's mother could; whereupon she grew round-womb'd, and had indeed, sir, a son for her cradle ere she had a husband for her bed The princes, France and Burgundy, Great rivals in our youngest daughter's love, Long in our court have made their amorous sojourn, And here are to be answer'd Sir, I love you more than words can wield the matter; Dearer than eyesight, space, and liberty; Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare; No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honour; As much as child e'er lov'd, or father found; A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable Sir, I am made Of the selfsame metal that my sister is, And prize me at her worth Good my lord, You have begot me, bred me, lov'd me; I Return those duties back as are right fit, Obey you, love you, and most honour you Why have my sisters husbands, if they say They love you all? Haply, when I shall wed, That lord whose hand must take my plight shall carry Half my love with him, half my care and duty If aught within that little seeming substance, Or all of it, with our displeasure piec'd, And nothing more, may fitly like your Grace, She's there, and she is yours Fairest Cordelia, that art most rich, being poor; Most choice, forsaken; and most lov'd, despis'd! Thee and thy virtues here I seize upon Thy dow'rless daughter, King, thrown to my chance, Is queen of us, of ours, and our fair France Exeunt Lear, Burgundy, [Cornwall, Albany, Gloucester, and Attendants] Wherefore should I Stand in the plague of custom, and permit The curiosity of nations to deprive me, For that I am some twelve or fourteen moonshines Lag of a brother? Why bastard? wherefore base? When my dimensions are as well compact, My mind as generous, and my shape as true, As honest madam's issue? Why brand they us With base? with baseness? bastardy? base, base? Who, in the lusty stealth of nature, take More composition and fierce quality Than doth, within a dull, stale, tired bed, Go to th' creating a whole tribe of fops Got 'tween asleep and wake? Well then, Legitimate Edgar, I must have your land But I have heard him oft maintain it to be fit that, sons at perfect age, and fathers declining, the father should be as ward to the son, and the son manage his revenue I dare pawn down my life for him that he hath writ this to feel my affection to your honour, and to no other pretence of danger I will seek him, sir, presently; convey the business as I shall find means, and acquaint you withal In cities, mutinies; in countries, discord; in palaces, treason; and the bond crack'd 'twixt son and father as of unnaturalness between the child and the parent; death, dearth, dissolutions of ancient amities; divisions in state, menaces and maledictions against king and nobles; needless diffidences, banishment of friends, dissipation of cohorts, nuptial breaches, and I know not what I do profess to be no less than I seem, to serve him truly that will put me in trust, to love him that is honest, to converse with him that is wise and says little, to fear judgment, to fight when I cannot choose, and to eat no fish I can keep honest counsel, ride, run, mar a curious tale in telling it and deliver a plain message bluntly There's a great abatement of kindness appears as well in the general dependants as in the Duke himself also and your daughter I have perceived a most faint neglect of late, which I have rather blamed as mine own jealous curiosity than as a very pretence and purpose of unkindness There, take my coxcomb! Why, this fellow hath banish'd two on's daughters, and did the third a blessing against his will Truth's a dog must to kennel; he must be whipp'd out, when Lady the brach may stand by th' fire and stink That lord that counsell'd thee To give away thy land, Come place him here by me- Do thou for him stand I have us'd it, nuncle, ever since thou mad'st thy daughters thy mother; for when thou gav'st them the rod, and put'st down thine own breeches, [Sings] Then they for sudden joy did weep, And I for sorrow sung, That such a king should play bo-peep And go the fools among They'll have me whipp'd for speaking true; thou'lt have me whipp'd for lying; and sometimes I am whipp'd for holding my peace Not only, sir, this your all-licens'd fool, But other of your insolent retinue Do hourly carp and quarrel, breaking forth In rank and not-to-be-endured riots Be then desir'd By her that else will take the thing she begs A little to disquantity your train, And the remainder that shall still depend To be such men as may besort your age, Which know themselves, and you [to Goneril] Detested kite, thou liest! My train are men of choice and rarest parts, That all particulars of duty know And in the most exact regard support The worships of their name.- O most small fault, How ugly didst thou in Cordelia show! Which, like an engine, wrench'd my frame of nature From the fix'd place; drew from my heart all love And added to the gall O Lear, Lear, Lear! Beat at this gate that let thy folly in [Strikes his head.] And thy dear judgment out! Go, go, my people Into her womb convey sterility; Dry up in her the organs of increase; And from her derogate body never spring A babe to honour her! If she must teem, Create her child of spleen, that it may live And be a thwart disnatur'd torment to her Acquaint my daughter no further with anything you know than comes from her demand out of the letter Why, to put's head in; not to give it away to his daughters, and leave his horns without a case 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 Here stood he in the dark, his sharp sword out, Mumbling of wicked charms, conjuring the moon To stand 's auspicious mistress 'Tis they have put him on the old man's death, To have th' expense and waste of his revenues 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 My face I'll grime with filth, Blanket my loins, elf all my hair in knots, And with presented nakedness outface The winds and persecutions of the sky That sir which serves and seeks for gain, And follows but for form, Will pack when it begins to rain And leave thee in the storm 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 Why not by th' hand, sir? How have I offended? All's not offence that indiscretion finds And dotage terms so Mend when thou canst; be better at thy leisure; I can be patient, I can stay with Regan, I and my hundred knights If you will come to me (For now I spy a danger), I entreat you To bring but five-and-twenty Those wicked creatures yet do look well-favour'd When others are more wicked; not being the worst Stands in some rank of praise Contending with the fretful elements; Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea, Or swell the curled waters 'bove the main, That things might change or cease; tears his white hair, Which the impetuous blasts, with eyeless rage, Catch in their fury and make nothing of; Strives in his little world of man to outscorn The to-and-fro-conflicting wind and rain This night, wherein the cub-drawn bear would couch, The lion and the belly-pinched wolf Keep their fur dry, unbonneted he runs, And bids what will take all The codpiece that will house Before the head has any, The head and he shall louse The man that makes his toe What he his heart should make Shall of a corn cry woe, And turn his sleep to wake The wrathful skies Gallow the very wanderers of the dark And make them keep their caves When priests are more in word than matter; When brewers mar their malt with water; When nobles are their tailors' tutors, No heretics burn'd, but wenches' suitors; When every case in law is right, No squire in debt nor no poor knight; When slanders do not live in tongues, Nor cutpurses come not to throngs; When usurers tell their gold i' th' field, And bawds and whores do churches build Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are, That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm, How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides, Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you From seasons such as these? O, I have ta'en Too little care of this! Take physic, pomp; Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel, That thou mayst shake the superflux to them And show the heavens more just A servingman, proud in heart and mind; that curl'd my hair, wore gloves in my cap; serv'd the lust of my mistress' heart and did the act of darkness with her; swore as many oaths as I spake words, and broke them in the sweet face of heaven; one that slept in the contriving of lust, and wak'd to do it He gives the web and the pin, squints the eye, and makes the harelip; mildews the white wheat, and hurts the poor creature of earth Though their injunction be to bar my doors And let this tyrannous night take hold upon you, Yet have I ventur'd to come seek you out And bring you where both fire and food is ready [aside] If I find him comforting the King, it will stuff his suspicion more fully.- I will persever in my course of loyalty, though the conflict be sore between that and my blood Avaunt, you curs! Be thy mouth or black or white, Tooth that poisons if it bite; Mastiff, greyhound, mongrel grim, Hound or spaniel, brach or lym, Bobtail tyke or trundle-tall- Tom will make them weep and wail; For, with throwing thus my head, Dogs leap the hatch, and all are fled There is a litter ready; lay him in't And drive towards Dover, friend, where thou shalt meet Both welcome and protection If thou shouldst dally half an hour, his life, With thine, and all that offer to defend him, Stand in assured loss This rest might yet have balm'd thy broken senses, Which, if convenience will not allow, Stand in hard cure Who alone suffers suffers most i' th' mind, Leaving free things and happy shows behind; But then the mind much sufferance doth o'erskip When grief hath mates, and bearing fellowship How light and portable my pain seems now, When that which makes me bend makes the King bow, He childed as I fathered! Tom, away! Mark the high noises, and thyself bewray When false opinion, whose wrong thought defiles thee, In thy just proof repeals and reconciles thee Naughty lady, These hairs which thou dost ravish from my chin Will quicken, and accuse thee I have a letter guessingly set down, Which came from one that's of a neutral heart, And not from one oppos'd The sea, with such a storm as his bare head In hell-black night endur'd, would have buoy'd up And quench'd the steeled fires To be worst, The lowest and most dejected thing of fortune, Stands still in esperance, lives not in fear of lust, as Obidicut; Hobbididence, prince of dumbness; Mahu, of stealing; Modo, of murder; Flibbertigibbet, of mopping and mowing, who since possesses chambermaids and waiting women Heavens, deal so still! Let the superfluous and lust-dieted man, That slaves your ordinance, that will not see Because he does not feel, feel your pow'r quickly; So distribution should undo excess, And each man have enough His answer was, 'The worse.' Of Gloucester's treachery And of the loyal service of his son When I inform'd him, then he call'd me sot And told me I had turn'd the wrong side out Ere long you are like to hear (If you dare venture in your own behalf) A mistress's command She that herself will sliver and disbranch From her material sap, perforce must wither And come to deadly use Thou changed and self-cover'd thing, for shame! Bemonster not thy feature! Were't my fitness To let these hands obey my blood, They are apt enough to dislocate and tear Thy flesh and bones Gloucester, I live To thank thee for the love thou show'dst the King, And to revenge thine eyes Faith, once or twice she heav'd the name of father Pantingly forth, as if it press'd her heart; Cried 'Sisters, sisters! Shame of ladies! Sisters! Kent! father! sisters! What, i' th' storm? i' th' night? Let pity not be believ'd!' There she shook The holy water from her heavenly eyes, And clamour moisten'd No blown ambition doth our arms incite, But love, dear love, and our ag'd father's right Methinks thy voice is alter'd, and thou speak'st In better phrase and matter than thou didst Fairies and gods Prosper it with thee! Go thou further off; Bid me farewell, and let me hear thee going Alack, I have no eyes! Is wretchedness depriv'd that benefit To end itself by death? 'Twas yet some comfort When misery could beguile the tyrant's rage And frustrate his proud will As I stood here below, methought his eyes Were two full moons; he had a thousand noses, Horns whelk'd and wav'd like the enridged sea Henceforth I'll bear Affliction till it do cry out itself 'Enough, enough,' and die We came crying hither; Thou know'st, the first time that we smell the air We wawl and cry No seconds? All myself? Why, this would make a man a man of salt, To use his eyes for garden waterpots, Ay, and laying autumn's dust 'Your (wife, so I would say) affectionate servant, 'Goneril.' O indistinguish'd space of woman's will! A plot upon her virtuous husband's life, And the exchange my brother! Here in the sands Thee I'll rake up, the post unsanctified Of murtherous lechers; and in the mature time With this ungracious paper strike the sight Of the death-practis'd Duke, For him 'tis well That of thy death and business I can tell O thou good Kent, how shall I live and work To match thy goodness? My life will be too short And every measure fail me 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 For this business, It toucheth us as France invades our land, Not bolds the King, with others whom, I fear, Most just and heavy causes make oppose If you miscarry, Your business of the world hath so an end, And machination ceases To take the widow Exasperates, makes mad her sister Goneril; And hardly shall I carry out my side, Her husband being alive As for the mercy Which he intends to Lear and to Cordelia- The battle done, and they within our power, Shall never see his pardon; for my state Stands on me to defend, not to debate Enter, with Drum and Colours, the Powers of France over the stage, Cordelia with her Father in her hand, and exeunt Away, old man! give me thy hand! away! King Lear hath lost, he and his daughter ta'en So we'll live, And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues Talk of court news; and we'll talk with them too- Who loses and who wins; who's in, who's out- And take upon 's the mystery of things, As if we were God's spies; and we'll wear out, In a wall'd prison, packs and sects of great ones That ebb and flow by th' moon Have I caught thee? He that parts us shall bring a brand from heaven And fire us hence like foxes Sir, I thought it fit To send the old and miserable King To some retention and appointed guard; Whose age has charms in it, whose title more, To pluck the common bosom on his side And turn our impress'd lances in our eyes Which do command them He led our powers, Bore the commission of my place and person, The which immediacy may well stand up And call itself your brother He that dares approach, On him, on you, who not? I will maintain My truth and honour firmly In wisdom I should ask thy name; But since thy outside looks so fair and warlike, And that thy tongue some say of breeding breathes, What safe and nicely I might well delay By rule of knighthood, I disdain and spurn This would have seem'd a period To such as love not sorrow; but another, To amplify too much, would make much more, And top extremity Great thing of us forgot! Speak, Edmund, where's the King? and where's Cordelia? The bodies of Goneril and Regan are brought in Quickly send (Be brief in't) to the castle; for my writ Is on the life of Lear and on Cordelia [Edmund is borne off.] Enter Lear, with Cordelia [dead] in his arms, [Edgar, Captain, and others following] Ha! What is't thou say'st, Her voice was ever soft, Gentle, and low- an excellent thing in woman [To Kent and Edgar] Friends of my soul, you twain Rule in this realm, and the gor'd state sustain Let fame, that all hunt after in their lives, Live regist'red upon our brazen tombs, And then grace us in the disgrace of death; When, spite of cormorant devouring Time, Th' endeavour of this present breath may buy That honour which shall bate his scythe's keen edge, And make us heirs of all eternity Therefore, brave conquerors- for so you are That war against your own affections And the huge army of the world's desires- Our late edict shall strongly stand in force Navarre shall be the wonder of the world; Our court shall be a little Academe, Still and contemplative in living art I can but say their protestation over; So much, dear liege, I have already sworn, That is, to live and study here three years I only swore to study with your Grace, And stay here in your court for three years' space to study where I well may dine, When I to feast expressly am forbid; Or study where to meet some mistress fine, When mistresses from common sense are hid; Or, having sworn too hard-a-keeping oath, Study to break it, and not break my troth Study me how to please the eye indeed, By fixing it upon a fairer eye; Who dazzling so, that eye shall be his heed, And give him light that it was blinded by These earthly godfathers of heaven's lights That give a name to every fixed star Have no more profit of their shining nights Than those that walk and wot not what they are No, my good lord; I have sworn to stay with you; And though I have for barbarism spoke more Than for that angel knowledge you can say, Yet confident I'll keep what I have swore, And bide the penance of each three years' day Give me the paper; let me read the same; And to the strictest decrees I'll write my name So to the laws at large I write my name; [Subscribes] And he that breaks them in the least degree Stands in attainder of eternal shame How you delight, my lords, I know not, I; But I protest I love to hear him lie, And I will use him for my minstrelsy I myself reprehend his own person, for I am his Grace's farborough; but I would see his own person in flesh and blood I was seen with her in the manor-house, sitting with her upon the form, and taken following her into the park; which, put together, is in manner and form following 'with a child of our grandmother Eve, a female; or, for thy more sweet understanding, a woman I suffer for the truth, sir; for true it is I was taken with Jaquenetta, and Jaquenetta is a true girl; and therefore welcome the sour cup of prosperity! Affliction may one day smile again; and till then, sit thee down, sorrow Most sweet Hercules! More authority, dear boy, name more; and, sweet my child, let them be men of good repute and carriage Samson, master; he was a man of good carriage, great carriage, for he carried the town gates on his back like a porter; and he was in love If she be made of white and red, Her faults will ne'er be known; For blushing cheeks by faults are bred, And fears by pale white shown Yet was Samson so tempted, and he had an excellent strength; yet was Solomon so seduced, and he had a very good wit Be now as prodigal of all dear grace As Nature was in making graces dear, When she did starve the general world beside And prodigally gave them all to you I know him, madam; at a marriage feast, Between Lord Perigort and the beauteous heir Of Jaques Falconbridge, solemnized In Normandy, saw I this Longaville 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 His eye begets occasion for his wit, For every object that the one doth catch The other turns to a mirth-moving jest, Which his fair tongue, conceit's expositor, Delivers in such apt and gracious words That aged ears play truant at his tales, And younger hearings are quite ravished; So sweet and voluble is his discourse 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 Dear Princess, were not his requests so far From reason's yielding, your fair self should make A yielding 'gainst some reason in my breast, And go well satisfied to France again Good wits will be jangling; but, gentles, agree; This civil war of wits were much better used On Navarre and his book-men, for here 'tis abused No, my complete master; but to jig off a tune at the tongue's end, canary to it with your feet, humour it with turning up your eyelids, sigh a note and sing a note, sometime through the throat, as if you swallowed love with singing love, sometime through the nose, as if you snuff'd up love by smelling love, with your hat penthouse-like o'er the shop of your eyes, with your arms cross'd on your thin-belly doublet, like a rabbit on a spit, or your hands in your pocket, like a man after the old painting; and keep not too long in one tune, but a snip and away Thus came your argument in; Then the boy's fat l'envoy, the goose that you bought; And he ended the market I, Costard, running out, that was safely within, Fell over the threshold and broke my shin The Princess comes to hunt here in the park, And in her train there is a gentle lady; When tongues speak sweetly, then they name her name, And Rosaline they call her O my little heart! And I to be a corporal of his field, And wear his colours like a tumbler's hoop! What! I love, I sue, I seek a wife- A woman, that is like a German clock, Still a-repairing, ever out of frame, And never going aright, being a watch, But being watch'd that it may still go right! Nay, to be perjur'd, which is worst of all; And, among three, to love the worst of all, A whitely wanton with a velvet brow, With two pitch balls stuck in her face for eyes; Ay, and, by heaven, one that will do the deed, Though Argus were her eunuch and her guard O heresy in fair, fit for these days! A giving hand, though foul, shall have fair praise The magnanimous and most illustrate king Cophetua set eye upon the pernicious and indubitate beggar Zenelophon; and he it was that might rightly say, 'Veni, vidi, vici'; which to annothanize in the vulgar,- O base and obscure vulgar!- videlicet, He came, saw, and overcame Thus expecting thy reply, I profane my lips on thy foot, my eyes on thy picture, and my heart on thy every part 'Thus dost thou hear the Nemean lion roar 'Gainst thee, thou lamb, that standest as his prey; Submissive fall his princely feet before, And he from forage will incline to play This Armado is a Spaniard, that keeps here in court; A phantasime, a Monarcho, and one that makes sport To the Prince and his book-mates The deer was, as you know, sanguis, in blood; ripe as the pomewater, who now hangeth like a jewel in the ear of caelo, the sky, the welkin, the heaven; and anon falleth like a crab on the face of terra, the soil, the land, the earth The moon was a month old when Adam was no more, And raught not to five weeks when he came to five-score Good Master Parson, be so good as read me this letter; it was given me by Costard, and sent me from Don Armado Thy eye Jove's lightning bears, thy voice his dreadful thunder, Which, not to anger bent, is music and sweet fire Well, 'set thee down, sorrow!' for so they say the fool said, and so say I, and I am the fool Well, she hath one o' my sonnets already; the clown bore it, the fool sent it, and the lady hath it Do but behold the tears that swell in me, And they thy glory through my grief will show But do not love thyself; then thou wilt keep My tears for glasses, and still make me weep Who is he comes here? [Steps aside] Enter LONGAVILLE, with a paper What, Longaville, and reading! Listen, car [Advancing] Dumain, thy love is far from charity, That in love's grief desir'st society; You may look pale, but I should blush, I know, To be o'erheard and taken napping so I have been closely shrouded in this bush, And mark'd you both, and for you both did blush [To LONGAVILLE] You would for paradise break faith and troth; [To Dumain] And Jove for your love would infringe an oath O, what a scene of fool'ry have I seen, Of sighs, of groans, of sorrow, and of teen! O, me, with what strict patience have I sat, To see a king transformed to a gnat! To see great Hercules whipping a gig, And profound Solomon to tune a jig, And Nestor play at push-pin with the boys, And critic Timon laugh at idle toys! Where lies thy grief, O, tell me, good Dumain? And, gentle Longaville, where lies thy pain? And where my liege's? All about the breast That you three fools lack'd me fool to make up the mess; He, he, and you- and you, my liege!- and I Are pick-purses in love, and we deserve to die Sweet lords, sweet lovers, O, let us embrace! As true we are as flesh and blood can be We cannot cross the cause why we were born, Therefore of all hands must we be forsworn O paradox! Black is the badge of hell, The hue of dungeons, and the school of night; And beauty's crest becomes the heavens well O, if in black my lady's brows be deckt, It mourns that painting and usurping hair Should ravish doters with a false aspect; And therefore is she born to make black fair Then leave this chat; and, good Berowne, now prove Our loving lawful, and our faith not torn Do we not likewise see our learning there? O, we have made a vow to study, lords, And in that vow we have forsworn our books For when would you, my liege, or you, or you, In leaden contemplation have found out Such fiery numbers as the prompting eyes Of beauty's tutors have enrich'd you with? Other slow arts entirely keep the brain; And therefore, finding barren practisers, Scarce show a harvest of their heavy toil; But love, first learned in a lady's eyes, Lives not alone immured in the brain, But with the motion of all elements Courses as swift as thought in every power, And gives to every power a double power, Above their functions and their offices Never durst poet touch a pen to write Until his ink were temp'red with Love's sighs; O, then his lines would ravish savage ears, And plant in tyrants mild humility Allons! allons! Sow'd cockle reap'd no corn, And justice always whirls in equal measure 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 The posterior of the day, most generous sir, is liable, congruent, and measurable, for the afternoon I'll make one in a dance, or so, or I will play On the tabor to the Worthies, and let them dance the hay Had she been light, like you, Of such a merry, nimble, stirring spirit, She might 'a been a grandam ere she died O that I knew he were but in by th' week! How I would make him fawn, and beg, and seek, And wait the season, and observe the times, And spend his prodigal wits in bootless rhymes, And shape his service wholly to my hests, And make him proud to make me proud that jests! So pertaunt-like would I o'ersway his state That he should be my fool, and I his fate 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 Muster your wits; stand in your own defence; Or hide your heads like cowards, and fly hence Under the cool shade of a sycamore I thought to close mine eyes some half an hour; When, lo, to interrupt my purpos'd rest, Toward that shade I might behold addrest The King and his companions; warily I stole into a neighbour thicket by, And overheard what you shall overhear- That, by and by, disguis'd they will be here Another with his finger and his thumb Cried 'Via! we will do't, come what will come.' The third he caper'd, and cried 'All goes well.' The fourth turn'd on the toe, and down he fell 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 Why, that contempt will kill the speaker's heart, And quite divorce his memory from his part 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 Fair gentle sweet, Your wit makes wise things foolish; when we greet, With eyes best seeing, heaven's fiery eye, By light we lose light; your capacity Is of that nature that to your huge store Wise things seem foolish and rich things but poor There, then, that vizard; that superfluous case That hid the worse and show'd the better face I do forswear them; and I here protest, By this white glove- how white the hand, God knows!- Henceforth my wooing mind shall be express'd In russet yeas, and honest kersey noes Soft, let us see- Write 'Lord have mercy on us' on those three; They are infected; in their hearts it lies; They have the plague, and caught it of your eyes It pleased them to think me worthy of Pompey the Great; for mine own part, I know not the degree of the Worthy; but I am to stand for him We are shame-proof, my lord, and 'tis some policy To have one show worse than the King's and his company And if these four Worthies in their first show thrive, These four will change habits and present the other five Pompey surnam'd the Great, That oft in field, with targe and shield, did make my foe to sweat; And travelling along this coast, I bere am come by chance, And lay my arms before the legs of this sweet lass of France When in the world I liv'd, I was the world's commander; By east, west, north, and south, I spread my conquering might [Sir Nathaniel retires] There, an't shall please you, a foolish mild man; an honest man, look you, and soon dash'd He is a marvellous good neighbour, faith, and a very good bowler; but for Alisander- alas! you see how 'tis- a little o'erparted Then shall Hector be whipt for Jaquenetta that is quick by him, and hang'd for Pompey that is dead by him True, and it was enjoined him in Rome for want of linen; since when, I'll be sworn, he wore none but a dishclout of Jaquenetta's, and that 'a wears next his heart for a favour Honest plain words best pierce the ear of grief; And by these badges understand the King We to ourselves prove false, By being once false for ever to be true To those that make us both- fair ladies, you; And even that falsehood, in itself a sin, Thus purifies itself and turns to grace 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 Dramatis Personae DUNCAN, King of Scotland MACBETH, Thane of Glamis and Cawdor, a general in the King's army LADY MACBETH, his wife MACDUFF, Thane of Fife, a nobleman of Scotland LADY MACDUFF, his wife MALCOLM, elder son of Duncan DONALBAIN, younger son of Duncan BANQUO, Thane of Lochaber, a general in the King's army FLEANCE, his son LENNOX, nobleman of Scotland ROSS, nobleman of Scotland MENTEITH nobleman of Scotland ANGUS, nobleman of Scotland CAITHNESS, nobleman of Scotland SIWARD, Earl of Northumberland, general of the English forces YOUNG SIWARD, his son SEYTON, attendant to Macbeth HECATE, Queen of the Witches The Three Witches Boy, Son of Macduff Gentlewoman attending on Lady Macbeth An English Doctor A Scottish Doctor A Sergeant A Porter An Old Man The Ghost of Banquo and other Apparitions Lords, Gentlemen, Officers, Soldiers, Murtherers, Attendants, and Messengers Doubtful it stood, As two spent swimmers that do cling together And choke their art But all's too weak; For brave Macbeth -well he deserves that name- Disdaining Fortune, with his brandish'd steel, Which smoked with bloody execution, Like Valor's minion carved out his passage Till he faced the slave, Which ne'er shook hands, nor bade farewell to him, Till he unseam'd him from the nave to the chaps, And fix'd his head upon our battlements From Fife, great King, Where the Norweyan banners flout the sky And fan our people cold That now Sweno, the Norways' king, craves composition; Nor would we deign him burial of his men Till he disbursed, at Saint Colme's Inch, Ten thousand dollars to our general use Her husband's to Aleppo gone, master the Tiger; But in a sieve I'll thither sail, And, like a rat without a tail, I'll do, I'll do, and I'll do The weird sisters, hand in hand, Posters of the sea and land, Thus do go about, about, Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine, And thrice again, to make up nine As thick as hail Came post with post, and every one did bear Thy praises in his kingdom's great defense, And pour'd them down before him Your Highness' part Is to receive our duties, and our duties Are to your throne and state, children and servants, Which do but what they should, by doing everything Safe toward your love and honor Noble Banquo, That hast no less deserved, nor must be known No less to have done so; let me infold thee And hold thee to my heart What thou wouldst highly, That wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play false, And yet wouldst wrongly win He that's coming Must be provided for; and you shall put This night's great business into my dispatch, Which shall to all our nights and days to come Give solely sovereign sway and masterdom Herein I teach you How you shall bid God 'ield us for your pains, And thank us for your trouble I have no spur To prick the sides of my intent, but only Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself And falls on the other Merciful powers, Restrain in me the cursed thoughts that nature Gives way to in repose! Enter Macbeth and a Servant with a torch Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee One cried, "God bless us!" and "Amen" the other, As they had seen me with these hangman's hands it makes him, and it mars him; it sets him on, and it takes him off; it persuades him and disheartens him; makes him stand to and not stand to; in conclusion, equivocates him in a sleep, and giving him the lie, leaves him Who can be wise, amazed, temperate and furious, Loyal and neutral, in a moment? No man On Tuesday last A falcon towering in her pride of place Was by a mousing owl hawk'd at and kill'd Carried to Colmekill, The sacred storehouse of his predecessors And guardian of their bones If there come truth from them (As upon thee, Macbeth, their speeches shine) Why, by the verities on thee made good, May they not be my oracles as well And set me up in hope? But hush, no more Enter Macbeth as King, Lady Macbeth as Queen, Lennox, Ross, Lords, Ladies, and Attendants If he had been forgotten, It had been as a gap in our great feast And all thing unbecoming While then, God be with you! Exeunt all but Macbeth and an Attendant The valued file Distinguishes the swift, the slow, the subtle, The housekeeper, the hunter, every one According to the gift which bounteous nature Hath in him closed, whereby he does receive Particular addition, from the bill That writes them all alike; and so of men Come on, Gentle my lord, sleek o'er your rugged looks; Be bright and jovial among your guests tonight O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife! Thou know'st that Banquo and his Fleance lives O, these flaws and starts, Impostors to true fear, would well become A woman's story at a winter's fire, Authorized by her grandam The time has been, That, when the brains were out, the man would die, And there an end; but now they rise again, With twenty mortal murthers on their crowns, And push us from our stools I drink to the general joy o' the whole table, And to our dear friend Banquo, whom we miss Music and a song within, "Come away, come away." Hark! I am call'd; my little spirit, see, Sits in a foggy cloud and stays for me Fillet of a fenny snake, In the cauldron boil and bake; Eye of newt and toe of frog, Wool of bat and tongue of dog, Adder's fork and blind-worm's sting, Lizard's leg and howlet's wing, For a charm of powerful trouble, Like a hell-broth boil and bubble Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf, Witch's mummy, maw and gulf Of the ravin'd salt-sea shark, Root of hemlock digg'd i' the dark, Liver of blaspheming Jew, Gall of goat and slips of yew Sliver'd in the moon's eclipse, Nose of Turk and Tartar's lips, Finger of birth-strangled babe Ditch-deliver'd by a drab, Make the gruel thick and slab What need I fear of thee? But yet I'll make assurance double sure, And take a bond of fate thou shalt not live, That I may tell pale-hearted fear it lies, And sleep in spite of thunder Who can impress the forest, bid the tree Unfix his earth-bound root? Sweet bodements, good! Rebellion's head, rise never till the Wood Of Birnam rise, and our high-placed Macbeth Shall live the lease of nature, pay his breath To time and mortal custom Filthy hags! Why do you show me this? A fourth! Start, eyes! What, will the line stretch out to the crack of doom? Another yet! A seventh! I'll see no more! And yet the eighth appears, who bears a glass Which shows me many more; and some I see That twofold balls and treble sceptres carry Horrible sight! Now I see 'tis true; For the blood-bolter'd Banquo smiles upon me, And points at them for his But why Stands Macbeth thus amazedly? Come,sisters, cheer we up his sprites, And show the best of our delights From this moment The very firstlings of my heart shall be The firstlings of my hand I dare not speak much further; But cruel are the times when we are traitors And do not know ourselves; when we hold rumor From what we fear, yet know not what we fear, But float upon a wild and violent sea Each way and move I am so much a fool, should I stay longer, It would be my disgrace and your discomfort Then the liars and swearers are fools, for there are liars and swearers enow to beat the honest men and hang up them I would not be the villain that thou think'st For the whole space that's in the tyrant's grasp And the rich East to boot I think withal There would be hands uplifted in my right; And here from gracious England have I offer Of goodly thousands Boundless intemperance In nature is a tyranny; it hath been The untimely emptying of the happy throne, And fall of many kings You may Convey your pleasures in a spacious plenty And yet seem cold, the time you may so hoodwink Fare thee well! These evils thou repeat'st upon thyself Have banish'd me from Scotland Macduff, this noble passion, Child of integrity, hath from my soul Wiped the black scruples, reconciled my thoughts To thy good truth and honor God, God, forgive us all! Look after her; Remove from her the means of all annoyance, And still keep eyes upon her My way of life Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf, And that which should accompany old age, As honor, love, obedience, troops of friends, I must not look to have; but in their stead, Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honor, breath, Which the poor heart would fain deny and dare not Enter Malcolm, old Seward and his Son, Macduff, Menteith, Caithness, Angus, Lennox, Ross, and Soldiers, marching The time approaches That will with due decision make us know What we shall say we have and what we owe Were they not forced with those that should be ours, We might have met them dareful, beard to beard, And beat them backward home Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage And then is heard no more Make all our trumpets speak, give them all breath, Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death But swords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn, Brandish'd by man that's of a woman born Tyrant, show thy face! If thou best slain and with no stroke of mine, My wife and children's ghosts will haunt me still The tyrant's people on both sides do fight, The noble Thanes do bravely in the war, The day almost itself professes yours, And little is to do Accursed be that tongue that tells me so, For it hath cow'd my better part of man! And be these juggling fiends no more believed That patter with us in a double sense, That keep the word of promise to our ear And break it to our hope 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 What's more to do, Which would be planted newly with the time, As calling home our exiled friends abroad That fled the snares of watchful tyranny, Producing forth the cruel ministers Of this dead butcher and his fiend-like queen, Who, as 'tis thought, by self and violent hands Took off her life; this, and what needful else That calls upon us, by the grace of Grace We will perform in measure, time, and place DRAMATIS PERSONAE VINCENTIO, the Duke ANGELO, the Deputy ESCALUS, an ancient Lord CLAUDIO, a young gentleman LUCIO, a fantastic Two other like Gentlemen VARRIUS, a gentleman, servant to the Duke PROVOST THOMAS, friar PETER, friar A JUSTICE ELBOW, a simple constable FROTH, a foolish gentleman POMPEY, a clown and servant to Mistress Overdone ABHORSON, an executioner BARNARDINE, a dissolute prisoner ISABELLA, sister to Claudio MARIANA, betrothed to Angelo JULIET, beloved of Claudio FRANCISCA, a nun MISTRESS OVERDONE, a bawd Lords, Officers, Citizens, Boy, and Attendants Of government the properties to unfold Would seem in me t' affect speech and discourse, Since I am put to know that your own science Exceeds, in that, the lists of all advice My strength can give you; then no more remains But that to your sufficiency- as your worth is able- And let them work Spirits are not finely touch'd But to fine issues; nor Nature never lends The smallest scruple of her excellence But, like a thrifty goddess, she determines Herself the glory of a creditor, Both thanks and use Hold, therefore, Angelo- In our remove be thou at full ourself; Mortality and mercy in Vienna Live in thy tongue and heart Thou conclud'st like the sanctimonious pirate that went to sea with the Ten Commandments, but scrap'd one out of the table Well, well! there's one yonder arrested and carried to prison was worth five thousand of you all Believe me, this may be; he promis'd to meet me two hours since, and he was ever precise in promise-keeping Thus, what with the war, what with the sweat, what with the gallows, and what with poverty, I am custom-shrunk Our natures do pursue, Like rats that ravin down their proper bane, A thirsty evil; and when we drink we die I have great hope in that; for in her youth There is a prone and speechless dialect Such as move men; beside, she hath prosperous art When she will play with reason and discourse, And well she can persuade 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 have deliver'd to Lord Angelo, A man of stricture and firm abstinence, My absolute power and place here in Vienna, And he supposes me travell'd to Poland; For so I have strew'd it in the common ear, And so it is received Sith 'twas my fault to give the people scope, 'Twould be my tyranny to strike and gall them For what I bid them do; for we bid this be done, When evil deeds have their permissive pass And not the punishment Therefore, indeed, my father, I have on Angelo impos'd the office; Who may, in th' ambush of my name, strike home, And yet my nature never in the fight To do in slander And to behold his sway, I will, as 'twere a brother of your order, Visit both prince and people Why her 'unhappy brother'? Let me ask The rather, for I now must make you know I am that Isabella, and his sister As those that feed grow full, as blossoming time That from the seedness the bare fallow brings To teeming foison, even so her plenteous womb Expresseth his full tilth and husbandry 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 We must not make a scarecrow of the law, Setting it up to fear the birds of prey, And let it keep one shape till custom make it Their perch, and not their terror Let but your honour know, Whom I believe to be most strait in virtue, That, in the working of your own affections, Had time coher'd with place, or place with wishing, Or that the resolute acting of our blood Could have attain'd th' effect of your own purpose Whether you had not sometime in your life Err'd in this point which now you censure him, And pull'd the law upon you What knows the laws That thieves do pass on thieves? 'Tis very pregnant, The jewel that we find, we stoop and take't, Because we see it; but what we do not see We tread upon, and never think of it You may not so extenuate his offence For I have had such faults; but rather tell me, When I, that censure him, do so offend, Let mine own judgment pattern out my death, And nothing come in partial [Aside] Well, heaven forgive him! and forgive us all! Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall; Some run from breaks of ice, and answer none, And some condemned for a fault alone Marry, sir, by my wife; who, if she had been a woman cardinally given, might have been accus'd in fornication, adultery, and all uncleanliness there I thank your worship for your good counsel; [Aside] but I shall follow it as the flesh and fortune shall better determine 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 There is a vice that most I do abhor, And most desire should meet the blow of justice; For which I would not plead, but that I must; For which I must not plead, but that I am At war 'twixt will and will not I have a brother is condemn'd to die; I do beseech you, let it be his fault, And not my brother Condemn the fault and not the actor of it! Why, every fault's condemn'd ere it be done; Mine were the very cipher of a function, To fine the faults whose fine stands in record, And let go by the actor I would to heaven I had your potency, And you were Isabel! Should it then be thus? No; I would tell what 'twere to be a judge And what a prisoner That I do beg his life, if it be sin, Heaven let me bear it! You granting of my suit, If that be sin, I'll make it my morn prayer To have it added to the faults of mine, And nothing of your answer Nay, but hear me; Your sense pursues not mine; either you are ignorant Or seem so, craftily; and that's not good Nay, call us ten times frail; For we are soft as our complexions are, And credulous to false prints Who will believe thee, Isabel? My unsoil'd name, th' austereness of my life, My vouch against you, and my place i' th' state, Will so your accusation overweigh That you shall stifle in your own report, And smell of calumny Merely, thou art Death's fool; For him thou labour'st by thy flight to shun And yet run'st toward him still Happy thou art not; For what thou hast not, still thou striv'st to get, And what thou hast, forget'st If thou art rich, thou'rt poor; For, like an ass whose back with ingots bows, Thou bear'st thy heavy riches but a journey, And Death unloads thee In such a one as, you consenting to't, Would bark your honour from that trunk you bear, And leave you naked Why give you me this shame? Think you I can a resolution fetch From flow'ry tenderness? If I must die, I will encounter darkness as a bride And hug it in mine arms Do not satisfy your resolution with hopes that are fallible; to-morrow you must die; go to your knees and make ready there she lost a noble and renowned brother, in his love toward her ever most kind and natural; with him the portion and sinew of her fortune, her marriage-dowry; with both, her combinate husband, this well-seeming Angelo This forenamed maid hath yet in her the continuance of her first affection; his unjust unkindness, that in all reason should have quenched her love, hath, like an impediment in the current, made it more violent and unruly first, that your stay with him may not be long; that the time may have all shadow and silence in it; and the place answer to convenience Nay, if there be no remedy for it, but that you will needs buy and sell men and women like beasts, we shall have all the world drink brown and white bastard The deputy cannot abide a whoremaster; if he be a whoremonger, and comes before him, he were as good go a mile on his errand It was a mad fantastical trick of him to steal from the state and usurp the beggary he was never born to Yes, in good sooth, the vice is of a great kindred; it is well allied; but it is impossible to extirp it quite, friar, till eating and drinking be put down They say this Angelo was not made by man and woman after this downright way of creation Why, what a ruthless thing is this in him, for the rebellion of a codpiece to take away the life of a man! Would the Duke that is absent have done this? Ere he would have hang'd a man for the getting a hundred bastards, he would have paid for the nursing a thousand He had some feeling of the sport; he knew the service, and that instructed him to mercy No, pardon; 'tis a secret must be lock'd within the teeth and the lips; but this I can let you understand Let him be but testimonied in his own bringings-forth, and he shall appear to the envious a scholar, a statesman, and a soldier He's not past it yet; and, I say to thee, he would mouth with a beggar though she smelt brown bread and garlic Double and treble admonition, and still forfeit in the same kind! This would make mercy swear and play the tyrant Yet had he framed to himself, by the instruction of his frailty, many deceiving promises of life; which I, by my good leisure, have discredited to him, and now he is resolv'd to die With Angelo to-night shall lie His old betrothed but despised; So disguise shall, by th' disguised, Pay with falsehood false exacting, And perform an old contracting 'Tis good; though music oft hath such a charm To make bad good and good provoke to harm Thousand escapes of wit Make thee the father of their idle dream, And rack thee in their fancies If you think it meet, compound with him by the year, and let him abide here with you; if not, use him for the present, and dismiss him [Knocking within] But hark, what noise? Heaven give your spirits comfort! Exit CLAUDIO [Knocking continues] By and by Happily You something know; yet I believe there comes No countermand; no such example have we Him I'll desire To meet me at the consecrated fount, A league below the city; and from thence, By cold gradation and well-balanc'd form If you can, pace your wisdom In that good path that I would wish it go, And you shall have your bosom on this wretch, Grace of the Duke, revenges to your heart, And general honour Her cause and yours I'll perfect him withal; and he shall bring you Before the Duke; and to the head of Angelo Accuse him home and home to have a dispatch of complaints; and to deliver us from devices hereafter, which shall then have no power to stand against us Exit ESCALUS This deed unshapes me quite, makes me unpregnant And dull to all proceedings Would yet he had liv'd! Alack, when once our grace we have forgot, Nothing goes right; we would, and we would not My very worthy cousin, fairly met! Our old and faithful friend, we are glad to see you O, your desert speaks loud; and I should wrong it To lock it in the wards of covert bosom, When it deserves, with characters of brass, A forted residence 'gainst the tooth of time And razure of oblivion Justice, O royal Duke! Vail your regard Upon a wrong'd- I would fain have said a maid! O worthy Prince, dishonour not your eye By throwing it on any other object Till you have heard me in my true complaint, And given me justice, justice, justice, justice O gracious Duke, Harp not on that; nor do not banish reason For inequality; but let your reason serve To make the truth appear where it seems hid, And hide the false seems true 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 He would not, but by gift of my chaste body To his concupiscible intemperate lust, Release my brother; and, after much debatement, My sisterly remorse confutes mine honour, And I did yield to him If he had so offended, He would have weigh'd thy brother by himself, And not have cut him off Enter MARIANA veiled Is this the witness, friar? FIRST let her show her face, and after speak Since which time of five years I never spake with her, saw her, nor heard from her, Upon my faith and honour I for a while will leave you; But stir not you till you have well determin'd Upon these slanderers [Exit an ATTENDANT] Pray you, my lord, give me leave to question; you shall see how I'll handle her You must, sir, change persons with me ere you make that my report; you, indeed, spoke so of him; and much more, much worse Hast thou or word, or wit, or impudence, That yet can do thee office? If thou hast, Rely upon it till my tale be heard, And hold no longer out For this new-married man approaching here, Whose salt imagination yet hath wrong'd Your well-defended honour, you must pardon For Mariana's sake; but as he adjudg'd your brother- Being criminal in double violation Of sacred chastity and of promise-breach, Thereon dependent, for your brother's life- The very mercy of the law cries out Most audible, even from his proper tongue, 'An Angelo for Claudio, death for death!' Haste still pays haste, and leisure answers leisure; Like doth quit like, and Measure still for Measure We do condemn thee to the very block Where Claudio stoop'd to death, and with like haste Consenting to the safeguard of your honour, I thought your marriage fit; else imputation, For that he knew you, might reproach your life, And choke your good to come For his possessions, Although by confiscation they are ours, We do instate and widow you withal To buy you a better husband Should she kneel down in mercy of this fact, Her brother's ghost his paved bed would break, And take her hence in horror Isabel, Sweet Isabel, do yet but kneel by me; Hold up your hands, say nothing; I'll speak all They say best men moulded out of faults; And, for the most, become much more the better For being a little bad; so may my husband I am sorry one so learned and so wise As you, Lord Angelo, have still appear'd, Should slip so grossly, both in the heat of blood And lack of temper'd judgment afterward I am sorry that such sorrow I procure; And so deep sticks it in my penitent heart That I crave death more willingly than mercy; 'Tis my deserving, and I do entreat it Sirrah, thou art said to have a stubborn soul, That apprehends no further than this world, And squar'st thy life according Proclaim it, Provost, round about the city, If any woman wrong'd by this lewd fellow- As I have heard him swear himself there's one Whom he begot with child, let her appear, And he shall marry her Dear Isabel, I have a motion much imports your good; Whereto if you'll a willing ear incline, What's mine is yours, and what is yours is mine DRAMATIS PERSONAE THE DUKE OF VENICE THE PRINCE OF MOROCCO, suitor to Portia THE PRINCE OF ARRAGON, " " " ANTONIO, a merchant of Venice BASSANIO, his friend, suitor to Portia SOLANIO, friend to Antonio and Bassanio SALERIO, " " " " " GRATIANO, " " " " " LORENZO, in love with Jessica SHYLOCK, a rich Jew TUBAL, a Jew, his friend LAUNCELOT GOBBO, a clown, servant to Shylock OLD GOBBO, father to Launcelot LEONARDO, servant to Bassanio BALTHASAR, servant to Portia STEPHANO, " " " PORTIA, a rich heiress NERISSA, her waiting-maid JESSICA, daughter to Shylock Magnificoes of Venice, Officers of the Court of Justice, Gaoler, Servants, and other Attendants Should I go to church And see the holy edifice of stone, And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks, Which, touching but my gentle vessel's side, Would scatter all her spices on the stream, Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks, And, in a word, but even now worth this, And now worth nothing? Shall I have the thought To think on this, and shall I lack the thought That such a thing bechanc'd would make me sad? But tell not me; I know Antonio Is sad to think upon his merchandise Believe me, no; I thank my fortune for it, My ventures are not in one bottom trusted, Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate Upon the fortune of this present year; Therefore my merchandise makes me not sad Enter BASSANIO, LORENZO, and GRATIANO Here comes Bassanio, your most noble kinsman, Gratiano and Lorenzo I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano- A stage, where every man must play a part, And mine a sad one Thanks, i' faith, for silence is only commendable In a neat's tongue dried, and a maid not vendible you shall seek all day ere you find them, and when you have them they are not worth the search I owe you much; and, like a wilful youth, That which I owe is lost; but if you please To shoot another arrow that self way Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt, As I will watch the aim, or to find both, Or bring your latter hazard back again And thankfully rest debtor for the first Then do but say to me what I should do That in your knowledge may by me be done, And I am prest unto it; therefore, speak Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth; For the four winds blow in from every coast Renowned suitors, and her sunny locks Hang on her temples like a golden fleece, Which makes her seat of Belmont Colchos' strond, And many Jasons come in quest of her He doth nothing but frown, as who should say 'An you will not have me, choose.' He hears merry tales and smiles not If a throstle sing he falls straight a-cap'ring; he will fence with his own shadow; if I should marry him, I should marry twenty husbands He is a proper man's picture; but alas, who can converse with a dumb-show? How oddly he is suited! I think he bought his doublet in Italy, his round hose in France, his bonnet in Germany, and his behaviour everywhere That he hath a neighbourly charity in him, for he borrowed a box of the ear of the Englishman, and swore he would pay him again when he was able; I think the Frenchman became his surety, and seal'd under for another 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 he hath an argosy bound to Tripolis, another to the Indies; I understand, moreover, upon the Rialto, he hath a third at Mexico, a fourth for England- and other ventures he hath, squand'red abroad But ships are but boards, sailors but men; there be land-rats and water-rats, water-thieves and land-thieves- I mean pirates; and then there is the peril of waters, winds, and rocks I am debating of my present store, And, by the near guess of my memory, I cannot instantly raise up the gross Of full three thousand ducats When Laban and himself were compromis'd That all the eanlings which were streak'd and pied Should fall as Jacob's hire, the ewes, being rank, In end of autumn turned to the rams; And when the work of generation was Between these woolly breeders in the act, The skilful shepherd pill'd me certain wands, And, in the doing of the deed of kind, He stuck them up before the fulsome ewes, Who, then conceiving, did in eaning time Fall parti-colour'd lambs, and those were Jacob's This was a way to thrive, and he was blest; And thrift is blessing, if men steal it not This was a venture, sir, that Jacob serv'd for; A thing not in his power to bring to pass, But sway'd and fashion'd by the hand of heaven Signior Antonio, many a time and oft In the Rialto you have rated me About my moneys and my usances; Still have I borne it with a patient shrug, For suff'rance is the badge of all our tribe; You call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog, And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine, And all for use of that which is mine own Why, look you, how you storm! I would be friends with you, and have your love, Forget the shames that you have stain'd me with, Supply your present wants, and take no doit Of usance for my moneys, and you'll not hear me Content, in faith; I'll seal to such a bond, And say there is much kindness in the Jew I say, To buy his favour, I extend this friendship; If he will take it, so; if not, adieu; And, for my love, I pray you wrong me not Mislike me not for my complexion, The shadowed livery of the burnish'd sun, To whom I am a neighbour, and near bred But, alas the while! If Hercules and Lichas play at dice Which is the better man, the greater throw May turn by fortune from the weaker band 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 [Aside] O heavens! This is my true-begotten father, who, being more than sand-blind, high-gravel blind, knows me not Go to, here's a simple line of life; here's a small trifle of wives; alas, fifteen wives is nothing; a'leven widows and nine maids is a simple coming-in for one man Pray thee, take pain To allay with some cold drops of modesty Thy skipping spirit; lest through thy wild behaviour I be misconst'red in the place I go to And lose my hopes If I do not put on a sober habit, Talk with respect, and swear but now and then, Wear prayer-books in my pocket, look demurely, Nay more, while grace is saying hood mine eyes Thus with my hat, and sigh, and say amen, Use all the observance of civility Like one well studied in a sad ostent To please his grandam, never trust me more O Lorenzo, If thou keep promise, I shall end this strife, Become a Christian and thy loving wife I know the hand; in faith, 'tis a fair hand, And whiter than the paper it writ on Is the fair hand that writ But come at once, For the close night doth play the runaway, And we are stay'd for at Bassanio's feast I will make fast the doors, and gild myself With some moe ducats, and be with you straight 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 Fare you well, your suit is cold.' Cold indeed, and labour lost, Then farewell, heat, and welcome, frost Why, man, I saw Bassanio under sail; With him is Gratiano gone along; And in their ship I am sure Lorenzo is not Why, all the boys in Venice follow him, Crying, his stones, his daughter, and his ducats He answered 'Do not so; Slubber not business for my sake, Bassanio, But stay the very riping of the time; And for the Jew's bond which he hath of me, Let it not enter in your mind of love; Be merry, and employ your chiefest thoughts To courtship, and such fair ostents of love As shall conveniently become you there.' And even there, his eye being big with tears, Turning his face, he put his hand behind him, And with affection wondrous sensible He wrung Bassanio's hand; and so they parted Quick, quick, I pray thee, draw the curtain straight; The Prince of Arragon hath ta'en his oath, And comes to his election presently First, never to unfold to any one Which casket 'twas I chose; next, if I fail Of the right casket, never in my life To woo a maid in way of marriage; Lastly, If I do fail in fortune of my choice, Immediately to leave you and be gone 'Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire.' What many men desire- that 'many' may be meant By the fool multitude, that choose by show, Not learning more than the fond eye doth teach; Which pries not to th' interior, but, like the martlet, Builds in the weather on the outward wall, Even in the force and road of casualty I will not choose what many men desire, Because I will not jump with common spirits And rank me with the barbarous multitudes I would she were as lying a gossip in that as ever knapp'd ginger or made her neighbours believe she wept for the death of a third husband And Shylock, for his own part, knew the bird was flidge; and then it is the complexion of them all to leave the dam There is more difference between thy flesh and hers than between jet and ivory; more between your bloods than there is between red wine and Rhenish I would my daughter were dead at my foot, and the jewels in her ear; would she were hears'd at my foot, and the ducats in her coffin! No news of them? Why, so- and I know not what's spent in the search I will have the heart of him, if he forfeit; for, were he out of Venice, I can make what merchandise I will Beshrew your eyes! They have o'erlook'd me and divided me; One half of me is yours, the other half yours- Mine own, I would say; but if mine, then yours, And so all yours O! these naughty times Puts bars between the owners and their rights; And so, though yours, not yours None but that ugly treason of mistrust Which makes me fear th' enjoying of my love; There may as well be amity and life 'Tween snow and fire as treason and my love O happy torment, when my torturer Doth teach me answers for deliverance! But let me to my fortune and the caskets That the comparison May stand more proper, my eye shall be the stream And wat'ry death-bed for him He may win; And what is music then? Then music is Even as the flourish when true subjects bow To a new-crowned monarch; such it is As are those dulcet sounds in break of day That creep into the dreaming bridegroom's ear And summon him to marriage Therefore, thou gaudy gold, Hard food for Midas, I will none of thee; Nor none of thee, thou pale and common drudge 'Tween man and man; but thou, thou meagre lead, Which rather threaten'st than dost promise aught, Thy plainness moves me more than eloquence, And here choose I But her eyes- How could he see to do them? Having made one, Methinks it should have power to steal both his, And leave itself unfurnish'd 'You that choose not by the view, Chance as fair and choose as true! Since this fortune falls to you, Be content and seek no new I give them with this ring, Which when you part from, lose, or give away, Let it presage the ruin of your love, And be my vantage to exclaim on you Madam, you have bereft me of all words; Only my blood speaks to you in my veins; And there is such confusion in my powers As, after some oration fairly spoke By a beloved prince, there doth appear Among the buzzing pleased multitude, Where every something, being blent together, Turns to a wild of nothing, save of joy Express'd and not express'd O sweet Portia, Here are a few of the unpleasant'st words That ever blotted paper! Gentle lady, When I did first impart my love to you, I freely told you all the wealth I had Ran in my veins- I was a gentleman; And then I told you true Never did I know A creature that did bear the shape of man So keen and greedy to confound a man Twenty merchants, The Duke himself, and the magnificoes Of greatest port, have all persuaded with him; But none can drive him from the envious plea Of forfeiture, of justice, and his bond Lorenzo, I commit into your hands The husbandry and manage of my house Until my lord's return; for mine own part, I have toward heaven breath'd a secret vow To live in prayer and contemplation, Only attended by Nerissa here, Until her husband and my lord's return My people do already know my mind, And will acknowledge you and Jessica In place of Lord Bassanio and myself go to thy fellows, bid them cover the table, serve in the meat, and we will come in to dinner For the table, sir, it shall be serv'd in; for the meat, sir, it shall be cover'd; for your coming in to dinner, sir, why, let it be as humours and conceits shall govern I have heard Your Grace hath ta'en great pains to qualify His rigorous course; but since he stands obdurate, And that no lawful means can carry me Out of his envy's reach, I do oppose My patience to his fury, and am arm'd To suffer with a quietness of spirit The very tyranny and rage of his I have possess'd your Grace of what I purpose, And by our holy Sabbath have I sworn To have the due and forfeit of my bond You'll ask me why I rather choose to have A weight of carrion flesh than to receive Three thousand ducats Therefore, I do beseech you, Make no moe offers, use no farther means, But with all brief and plain conveniency Let me have judgment, and the Jew his will The pound of flesh which I demand of him Is dearly bought, 'tis mine, and I will have it I am a tainted wether of the flock, Meetest for death; the weakest kind of fruit Drops earliest to the ground, and so let me Thy currish spirit Govern'd a wolf who, hang'd for human slaughter, Even from the gallows did his fell soul fleet, And, whilst thou layest in thy unhallowed dam, Infus'd itself in thee; for thy desires Are wolfish, bloody, starv'd and ravenous YOU hear the learn'd Bellario, what he writes; And here, I take it, is the doctor come And, I beseech you, Wrest once the law to your authority; To do a great right do a little wrong, And curb this cruel devil of his will Shed thou no blood, nor cut thou less nor more But just a pound of flesh; if thou tak'st more Or less than a just pound- be it but so much As makes it light or heavy in the substance, Or the division of the twentieth part Of one poor scruple; nay, if the scale do turn But in the estimation of a hair- Thou diest, and all thy goods are confiscate So please my lord the Duke and all the court To quit the fine for one half of his goods; I am content, so he will let me have The other half in use, to render it Upon his death unto the gentleman That lately stole his daughter- Two things provided more; that, for this favour, He presently become a Christian; The other, that he do record a gift, Here in the court, of all he dies possess'd Unto his son Lorenzo and his daughter I pray you, give me leave to go from hence; I am not well; send the deed after me And I will sign it I humbly do desire your Grace of pardon; I must away this night toward Padua, And it is meet I presently set forth He is well paid that is well satisfied, And I, delivering you, am satisfied, And therein do account myself well paid Inquire the Jew's house out, give him this deed, And let him sign it; we'll away tonight, And be a day before our husbands home We shall have old swearing That they did give the rings away to men; But we'll outface them, and outswear them too In such a night Did Thisby fearfully o'ertrip the dew, And saw the lion's shadow ere himself, And ran dismayed away In such a night Did young Lorenzo swear he lov'd her well, Stealing her soul with many vows of faith, And ne'er a true one In such a night Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew, Slander her love, and he forgave it her And yet no matter- why should we go in? My friend Stephano, signify, I pray you, Within the house, your mistress is at hand; And bring your music forth into the air The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils; The motions of his spirit are dull:as night, And his affections dark as Erebus How many things by season season'd are To their right praise and true perfection! Peace, ho! The moon sleeps with Endymion, And would not be awak'd What talk you of the posy or the value? You swore to me, when I did give it you, That you would wear it till your hour of death, And that it should lie with you in your grave; Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths, You should have been respective and have kept it 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 [Aside] Why, I were best to cut my left hand off, And swear I lost the ring defending it Let not that doctor e'er come near my house; Since he hath got the jewel that I loved, And that which you did swear to keep for me, I will become as liberal as you; I'll not deny him anything I have, No, not my body, nor my husband's bed Mark you but that! In both my eyes he doubly sees himself, In each eye one; swear by your double self, And there's an oath of credit Let us go in, And charge us there upon inter'gatories, And we will answer all things faithfully All his successors, gone before him, hath done't; and all his ancestors, that come after him, may It were a goot motion if we leave our pribbles and prabbles, and desire a marriage between Master Abraham and Mistress Anne Page Marry, sir, I have matter in my head against you; and against your cony-catching rascals, Bardolph, Nym, and Pistol And being fap, sir, was, as they say, cashier'd; and so conclusions pass'd the careers Nay, I will do as my cousin Shallow says; I pray you pardon me; he's a justice of peace in his country, simple though I stand here But if you say 'marry her,' I will marry her; that I am freely dissolved, and dissolutely Go your ways, and ask of Doctor Caius' house which is the way; and there dwells one Mistress Quickly, which is in the manner of his nurse, or his dry nurse, or his cook, or his laundry, his washer, and his wringer Now, the report goes she has all the rule of her husband's purse; he hath a legion of angels I will be cheaters to them both, and they shall be exchequers to me; they shall be my East and West Indies, and I will trade to them both Rogues, hence, avaunt! vanish like hailstones, go; Trudge, plod away i' th' hoof; seek shelter, pack! Falstaff will learn the humour of the age; French thrift, you rogues; myself, and skirted page And I to Ford shall eke unfold How Falstaff, varlet vile, His dove will prove, his gold will hold, And his soft couch defile [Aside to SIMPLE] I am glad he is so quiet; if he had been throughly moved, you should have heard him so loud and so melancholy Will I? I' faith, that we will; and I will tell your worship more of the wart the next time we have confidence; and of other wooers Why, look where he comes; and my good man too; he's as far from jealousy as I am from giving him cause; and that, I hope, is an unmeasurable distance He hath wronged me in some humours; I should have borne the humour'd letter to her; but I have a sword, and it shall bite upon my necessity Good even and twenty, good Master Page! Master Page, will you go with us? We have sport in hand Sir, there is a fray to be fought between Sir Hugh the Welsh priest and Caius the French doctor My hand, bully; thou shalt have egress and regress- said I well?-and thy name shall be Brook Marry, she hath receiv'd your letter; for the which she thanks you a thousand times; and she gives you to notify that her husband will be absence from his house between ten and eleven Her husband has a marvellous infection to the little page; and truly Master Page is an honest man you are a gentleman of excellent breeding, admirable discourse, of great admittance, authentic in your place and person, generally allow'd for your many war-like, courtlike, and learned preparations I shall be with her, I may tell you, by her own appointment; even as you came in to me her assistant, or go-between, parted from me; I say I shall be with her between ten and eleven; for at that time the jealous rascally knave, her husband, will be forth I will use her as the key of the cuckoldly rogue's coffer; and there's my harvest-home Master Brook, thou shalt know I will predominate over the peasant, and thou shalt lie with his wife Ford's a knave, and I will aggravate his style; thou, Master Brook, shalt know him for knave and cuckold I pray you, bear witness that me have stay six or seven, two tree hours for him, and he is no come I am sworn of the peace; you have show'd yourself a wise physician, and Sir Hugh hath shown himself a wise and patient churchman Sheathe thy impatience; throw cold water on thy choler; go about the fields with me through Frogmore; I will bring thee where Mistress Anne Page is, at a a farm-house, a-feasting; and thou shalt woo her Marry, sir, the pittie-ward, the park-ward; every way; old Windsor way, and every way but the town way Pless my soul! [Sings] To shallow rivers, to whose falls Melodious birds sings madrigals; There will we make our peds of roses, And a thousand fragrant posies [Sings] Melodious birds sing madrigals- Whenas I sat in Pabylon- And a thousand vagram posies Yonder is a most reverend gentleman, who, belike having received wrong by some person, is at most odds with his own gravity and patience that ever you saw Disarm them, and let them question; let them keep their limbs whole and hack our English [Aside to CAIUS] Pray you, let us not be laughing-stocks to other men's humours; I desire you in friendship, and I will one way or other make you amends [Aloud] I will knog your urinals about your knave's cogscomb for missing your meetings and appointments Am I politic? am I subtle? am I a Machiavel? Shall I lose my doctor? No; he gives me the potions and the motions Shall I lose my parson, my priest, my Sir Hugh? No; he gives me the proverbs and the noverbs 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 My Master Sir John is come in at your back-door, Mistress Ford, and requests your company Come, I cannot cog, and say thou art this and that, like a many of these lisping hawthorn-buds that come like women in men's apparel, and smell like Bucklersbury in simple time; I cannot; but I love thee, none but thee; and thou deserv'st it [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 What shall I do? There is a gentleman, my dear friend; and I fear not mine own shame as much as his peril Good Mistress Page, for that I love your daughter In such a righteous fashion as I do, Perforce, against all checks, rebukes, and manners, I must advance the colours of my love, And not retire Now Heaven send thee good fortune! [Exit FENTON] A kind heart he hath; a woman would run through fire and water for such a kind heart Exit BARDOLPH Have I liv'd to be carried in a basket, like a barrow of butcher's offal, and to be thrown in the Thames? Well, if I be serv'd such another trick, I'll have my brains ta'en out and butter'd, and give them to a dog for a new-year's gift Her husband goes this morning a-birding; she desires you once more to come to her between eight and nine; I must carry her word quickly I quak'd for fear lest the lunatic knave would have search'd it; but Fate, ordaining he should be a cuckold, held his hand Think of that-that am as subject to heat as butter; a man of continual dissolution and thaw It is qui, quae, quod; if you forget your qui's, your quae's, and your quod's, you must be preeches I see you are obsequious in your love, and I profess requital to a hair's breadth; not only, Mistress Ford, in the simple office of love, but in all the accoutrement, complement, and ceremony of it Alas the day, I know not! There is no woman's gown big enough for him; otherwise he might put on a hat, a muffler, and a kerchief, and so escape On my word, it will serve him; she's as big as he is; and there's her thrumm'd hat, and her muffler too We'll leave a proof, by that which we will do, Wives may be merry and yet honest too What, hoa, Mistress Page! Come you and the old woman down; my husband will come into the chamber They shall have my horses, but I'll make them pay; I'll sauce them; they have had my house a week at command; I have turn'd away my other guests Let our wives Yet once again, to make us public sport, Appoint a meeting with this old fat fellow, Where we may take him and disgrace him for it Devise but how you'll use him when he comes, And let us two devise to bring him thither There is an old tale goes that Heme the Hunter, Sometime a keeper here in Windsor Forest, Doth all the winter-time, at still midnight, Walk round about an oak, with great ragg'd horns; And there he blasts the tree, and takes the cattle, And makes milch-kine yield blood, and shakes a chain In a most hideous and dreadful manner And till he tell the truth, Let the supposed fairies pinch him sound, And burn him with their tapers The truth being known, We'll all present ourselves; dis-horn the spirit, And mock him home to Windsor [Aside] And in that time Shall Master Slender steal my Nan away, And marry her at Eton.-Go, send to Falstaff straight FORD I'll to the Doctor; he hath my good will, And none but he, to marry with Nan Page The Doctor is well money'd, and his friends Potent at court; he, none but he, shall have her, Though twenty thousand worthier come to crave her There's his chamber, his house, his castle, his standing-bed and truckle-bed; 'tis painted about with the story of the Prodigal, fresh and new There is a friend of mine come to town tells me there is three cozen-germans that has cozen'd all the hosts of Readins, of Maidenhead, of Colebrook, of horses and money I cannot tell vat is dat; but it is tell-a me dat you make grand preparation for a Duke de Jamany And have not they suffer'd? Yes, I warrant; speciously one of them; Mistress Ford, good heart, is beaten black and blue, that you cannot see a white spot about her Sir, let me speak with you in your chamber; you shall hear how things go, and, I warrant, to your content I'll tell you strange things of this knave-Ford, on whom to-night I will be revenged, and I will deliver his wife into your hand Heaven prosper our sport! No man means evil but the devil, and we shall know him by his horns Master Doctor, my daughter is in green; when you see your time, take her by the hand, away with her to the deanery, and dispatch it quickly O omnipotent love! how near the god drew to the complexion of a goose! A fault done first in the form of a beast-O Jove, a beastly fault!-and then another fault in the semblance of a fowl- think on't, Jove, a foul fault! When gods have hot backs what shall poor men do? For me, I am here a Windsor stag; and the fattest, I think, i' th' forest Divide me like a brib'd buck, each a haunch; I will keep my sides to myself, my shoulders for the fellow of this walk, and my horns I bequeath your husbands Fairies, black, grey, green, and white, You moonshine revellers, and shades of night, You orphan heirs of fixed destiny, Attend your office and your quality Cricket, to Windsor chimneys shalt thou leap; Where fires thou find'st unrak'd, and hearths unswept, There pinch the maids as blue as bilberry; Our radiant Queen hates sluts and sluttery Where's Pede? Go you, and where you find a maid That, ere she sleep, has thrice her prayers said, Raise up the organs of her fantasy Sleep she as sound as careless infancy; But those as sleep and think not on their sins, Pinch them, arms, legs, backs, shoulders, sides, and shins About, about; Search Windsor castle, elves, within and out; Strew good luck, ouphes, on every sacred room, That it may stand till the perpetual doom In state as wholesome as in state 'tis fit, Worthy the owner and the owner it Corrupt, corrupt, and tainted in desire! About him, fairies; sing a scornful rhyme; And, as you trip, still pinch him to your time Fie on sinful fantasy! Fie on lust and luxury! Lust is but a bloody fire, Kindled with unchaste desire, Fed in heart, whose flames aspire, As thoughts do blow them, higher and higher Pinch him, fairies, mutually; Pinch him for his villainy; Pinch him and burn him and turn him about, Till candles and star-light and moonshine be out DOCTOR CAIUS comes one way, and steals away a fairy in green; SLENDER another way, and takes off a fairy in white; and FENTON steals away ANNE PAGE 'Seese' and 'putter'! Have I liv'd to stand at the taunt of one that makes fritters of English? This is enough to be the decay of lust and late-walking through the realm Marry, sir, we'll bring you to Windsor, to one Master Brook, that you have cozen'd of money, to whom you should have been a pander If I did not think it had been Anne Page, would I might never stir!-and 'tis a postmaster's boy 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 In love, the heavens themselves do guide the state; Money buys lands, and wives are sold by fate Master Fenton, Heaven give you many, many merry days! Good husband, let us every one go home, And laugh this sport o'er by a country fire; Sir John and all QUINCE, BOTTOM, FLUTE, SNOUT, STARVELING, AND SNUG Other Fairies attending their King and Queen Attendants on Theseus and Hippolyta 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 Thrice-blessed they that master so their blood To undergo such maiden pilgrimage; But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd Than that which withering on the virgin thorn Grows, lives, and dies, in single blessedness Take time to pause; and by the next new moon- The sealing-day betwixt my love and me For everlasting bond of fellowship- Upon that day either prepare to die For disobedience to your father's will, Or else to wed Demetrius, as he would, Or on Diana's altar to protest For aye austerity and single life Why should not I then prosecute my right? Demetrius, I'll avouch it to his head, Made love to Nedar's daughter, Helena, And won her soul; and she, sweet lady, dotes, Devoutly dotes, dotes in idolatry, Upon this spotted and inconstant man Then let us teach our trial patience, Because it is a customary cross, As due to love as thoughts and dreams and sighs, Wishes and tears, poor Fancy's followers I have a widow aunt, a dowager Of great revenue, and she hath no child- From Athens is her house remote seven leagues- And she respects me as her only son O, then, what graces in my love do dwell, That he hath turn'd a heaven unto a hell! LYSANDER And in the wood where often you and I Upon faint primrose beds were wont to lie, Emptying our bosoms of their counsel sweet, There my Lysander and myself shall meet; And thence from Athens turn away our eyes, To seek new friends and stranger companies Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind As waggish boys in game themselves forswear, So the boy Love is perjur'd everywhere; For ere Demetrius look'd on Hermia's eyne, He hail'd down oaths that he was only mine; And when this hail some heat from Hermia felt, So he dissolv'd, and show'rs of oaths did melt Here is the scroll of every man's name which is thought fit, through all Athens, to play in our interlude before the Duke and the Duchess on his wedding-day at night First, good Peter Quince, say what the play treats on; then read the names of the actors; and so grow to a point 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 And now they never meet in grove or green, By fountain clear, or spangled starlight sheen, But they do square, that all their elves for fear Creep into acorn cups and hide them there Are not you he That frights the maidens of the villagery, Skim milk, and sometimes labour in the quern, And bootless make the breathless housewife churn, And sometime make the drink to bear no barm, Mislead night-wanderers, laughing at their harm? Those that Hobgoblin call you, and sweet Puck, You do their work, and they shall have good luck 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 And this same progeny of evils comes From our debate, from our dissension; We are their parents and original 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 If you will patiently dance in our round, And see our moonlight revels, go with us; If not, shun me, and I will spare your haunts It fell upon a little western flower, Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound, And maidens call it Love-in-idleness I'll run from thee and hide me in the brakes, And leave thee to the mercy of wild beasts Apollo flies, and Daphne holds the chase; The dove pursues the griffin; the mild hind Makes speed to catch the tiger- bootless speed, When cowardice pursues and valour flies Exit DEMETRIUS I'll follow thee, and make a heaven of hell, To die upon the hand I love so well Fare thee well, nymph; ere he do leave this grove, Thou shalt fly him, and he shall seek thy love I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows, Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine; There sleeps Titania sometime of the night, Lull'd in these flowers with dances and delight; And there the snake throws her enamell'd skin, Weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in; And with the juice of this I'll streak her eyes, And make her full of hateful fantasies What thou seest when thou dost wake, Do it for thy true-love take; Love and languish for his sake Fair love, you faint with wand'ring in the wood; And, to speak troth, I have forgot our way; We'll rest us, Hermia, if you think it good, And tarry for the comfort of the day One turf shall serve as pillow for us both; One heart, one bed, two bosoms, and one troth I mean that my heart unto yours is knit, So that but one heart we can make of it; Two bosoms interchained with an oath, So then two bosoms and a single troth Now much beshrew my manners and my pride, If Hermia meant to say Lysander lied! But, gentle friend, for love and courtesy Lie further off, in human modesty; Such separation as may well be said Becomes a virtuous bachelor and a maid, So far be distant; and good night, sweet friend This is he, my master said, Despised the Athenian maid; And here the maiden, sleeping sound, On the dank and dirty ground Who will not change a raven for a dove? The will of man is by his reason sway'd, And reason says you are the worthier maid O, that a lady of one man refus'd Should of another therefore be abus'd! Exit LYSANDER No, I am no such thing; I am a man as other men are.' And there, indeed, let him name his name, and tell them plainly he is Snug the joiner But there is two hard things- that is, to bring the moonlight into a chamber; for, you know, Pyramus and Thisby meet by moonlight Some man or other must present Wall; and let him have some plaster, or some loam, or some rough-cast about him, to signify wall; and let him hold his fingers thus, and through that cranny shall Pyramus and Thisby whisper Ay, marry, must you; for you must understand he goes but to see a noise that he heard, and is to come again 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 When they him spy, As wild geese that the creeping fowler eye, Or russet-pated choughs, many in sort, Rising and cawing at the gun's report, Sever themselves and madly sweep the sky, So at his sight away his fellows fly; And at our stamp here, o'er and o'er one falls; He murder cries, and help from Athens calls I led them on in this distracted fear, And left sweet Pyramus translated there; When in that moment, so it came to pass, Titania wak'd, and straightway lov'd an ass If thou hast slain Lysander in his sleep, Being o'er shoes in blood, plunge in the deep, And kill me too What hast thou done? Thou hast mistaken quite, And laid the love-juice on some true-love's sight Of thy misprision must perforce ensue Some true love turn'd, and not a false turn'd true Why should you think that I should woo in scorn? Scorn and derision never come in tears Your vows to her and me, put in two scales, Will even weigh; and both as light as tales O, how ripe in show Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow! That pure congealed white, high Taurus' snow, Fann'd with the eastern wind, turns to a crow When thou hold'st up thy hand This you know I know; And here, with all good will, with all my heart, In Hermia's love I yield you up my part; And yours of Helena to me bequeath, Whom I do love and will do till my death Lysander's love, that would not let him bide- Fair Helena, who more engilds the night Than all yon fiery oes and eyes of light 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 Therefore be out of hope, of question, of doubt; Be certain, nothing truer; 'tis no jest That I do hate thee and love Helena He followed you; for love I followed him; But he hath chid me hence, and threat'ned me To strike me, spurn me, nay, to kill me too; And now, so you will let me quiet go, To Athens will I bear my folly back, And follow you no further O, when she is angry, she is keen and shrewd; She was a vixen when she went to school; And, though she be but little, she is fierce 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 Whiles I in this affair do thee employ, I'll to my queen, and beg her Indian boy; And then I will her charmed eye release From monster's view, and all things shall be peace 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 I followed fast, but faster he did fly, That fallen am I in dark uneven way, And here will rest me For if but once thou show me thy grey light, I'll find Demetrius, and revenge this spite Abide me, if thou dar'st; for well I wot Thou run'st before me, shifting every place, And dar'st not stand, nor look me in the face Jack shall have Jill; Nought shall go ill; The man shall have his mare again, and all shall be well Come, sit thee down upon this flow'ry bed, While I thy amiable cheeks do coy, And stick musk-roses in thy sleek smooth head, And kiss thy fair large ears, my gentle joy Mounsieur Cobweb; good mounsieur, get you your weapons in your hand and kill me a red-hipp'd humble-bee on the top of a thistle; and, good mounsieur, bring me the honey-bag I have a venturous fairy that shall seek The squirrel's hoard, and fetch thee new nuts 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 When I had at my pleasure taunted her, And she in mild terms begg'd my patience, I then did ask of her her changeling child; Which straight she gave me, and her fairy sent To bear him to my bower in fairy land Come, my Queen, take hands with me, [Music] And rock the ground whereon these sleepers be Now thou and I are new in amity, And will to-morrow midnight solemnly Dance in Duke Theseus' house triumphantly, And bless it to all fair prosperity Exit an ATTENDANT We will, fair Queen, up to the mountain's top, And mark the musical confusion Of hounds and echo in conjunction I know you two are rival enemies; How comes this gentle concord in the world That hatred is so far from jealousy To sleep by hate, and fear no enmity? LYSANDER They would have stol'n away, they would, Demetrius, Thereby to have defeated you and me But, like a sickness, did I loathe this food; But, as in health, come to my natural taste, Now I do wish it, love it, long for it, And will for evermore be true to it My next is 'Most fair Pyramus.' Heigh-ho! Peter Quince! Flute, the bellows-mender! Snout, the tinker! Starveling! God's my life, stol'n hence, and left me asleep! I have had a most rare vision Masters, the Duke is coming from the temple; and there is two or three lords and ladies more married The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven; And as imagination bodies forth The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing A local habitation and a name But all the story of the night told over, And all their minds transfigur'd so together, More witnesseth than fancy's images, And grows to something of great constancy, But howsoever strange and admirable 'A tedious brief scene of young Pyramus And his love Thisby; very tragical mirth.' Merry and tragical! tedious and brief! That is hot ice and wondrous strange snow I will hear that play; For never anything can be amiss When simpleness and duty tender it Trust me, sweet, Out of this silence yet I pick'd a welcome; And in the modesty of fearful duty I read as much as from the rattling tongue Of saucy and audacious eloquence Anon comes Pyramus, sweet youth and tall, And finds his trusty Thisby's mantle slain; Whereat with blade, with bloody blameful blade, He bravely broach'd his boiling bloody breast; And Thisby, tarrying in mulberry shade, His dagger drew, and died 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 Not so, my lord; for his valour cannot carry his discretion, and the fox carries the goose All that I have to say is to tell you that the lanthorn is the moon; I, the Man i' th' Moon; this thorn-bush, my thorn-bush; and this dog, my dog O Fates! come, come; Cut thread and thrum; Quail, crush, conclude, and quell Through the house give glimmering light, By the dead and drowsy fire; Every elf and fairy sprite Hop as light as bird from brier; And this ditty, after me, Sing and dance it trippingly First, rehearse your song by rote, To each word a warbling note; Hand in hand, with fairy grace, Will we sing, and bless this place Enter Leonato (Governor of Messina), Hero (his Daughter), and Beatrice (his Niece), with a Messenger He set up his bills here in Messina and challeng'd Cupid at the flight, and my uncle's fool, reading the challenge, subscrib'd for Cupid and challeng'd him at the burbolt O Lord, he will hang upon him like a disease! He is sooner caught than the pestilence, and the taker runs presently mad God help the noble Claudio! If he have caught the Benedick, it will cost him a thousand pound ere 'a be cured Good Signior Leonato, are you come to meet your trouble? The fashion of the world is to avoid cost, and you encounter it Never came trouble to my house in the likeness of your Grace; for trouble being gone, comfort should remain; but when you depart from me, sorrow abides and happiness takes his leave Why, i' faith, methinks she's too low for a high praise, too brown for a fair praise, and too little for a great praise If thou dost love fair Hero, cherish it, And I will break with her and with her father, And thou shalt have her I will assume thy part in some disguise And tell fair Hero I am Claudio, And in her bosom I'll unclasp my heart And take her hearing prisoner with the force And strong encounter of my amorous tale 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 Enter Leonato, [Antonio] his Brother, Hero his Daughter, and Beatrice his Niece, and a Kinsman; [also Margaret and Ursula] Just, if he send me no husband; for the which blessing I am at him upon my knees every morning and evening Therefore I will even take sixpence in earnest of the berrord and lead his apes into hell Here's no place for you maids.' So deliver I up my apes, and away to Saint Peter--for the heavens If the Prince be too important, tell him there is measure in everything, and so dance out the answer the first suit is hot and hasty like a Scotch jig--and full as fantastical; the wedding, mannerly modest, as a measure, full of state and ancientry; and then comes Repentance and with his bad legs falls into the cinque-pace faster and faster, till he sink into his grave After them enter] Don John [and Borachio (without masks), who stand aside and look on during the dance] So you walk softly and look sweetly and say nothing, I am yours for the walk; and especially when I walk away None but libertines delight in him; and the commendation is not in his wit, but in his villany; for he both pleases men and angers them, and then they laugh at him and beat him Ho! now you strike like the blind man! 'Twas the boy that stole your meat, and you'll beat the post It is the base (though bitter) disposition of Beatrice that puts the world into her person and so gives me out 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 I would to God some scholar would conjure her, for certainly, while she is here, a man may live as quiet in hell as in a sanctuary; and people sin upon purpose, because they would go thither; so indeed all disquiet, horror, and perturbation follows her Speak, cousin; or, if you cannot, stop his mouth with a kiss and let not him speak neither Hath your Grace ne'er a brother like you? Your father got excellent husbands, if a maid could come by them No, sure, my lord, my mother cried; but then there was a star danc'd, and under that was I born 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 have known when there was no music with him but the drum and the fife; and now had he rather hear the tabor and the pipe An he should, it were an alms to hang him! She's an excellent sweet lady, and (out of all suspicion) she is virtuous Let there be the same net spread for her, and that must your daughter and her gentlewomen carry The sport will be, when they hold one an opinion of another's dotage, and no such matter The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish Cut with her golden oars the silver stream And greedily devour the treacherous bait They did entreat me to acquaint her of it; But I persuaded them, if they lov'd Benedick, To wish him wrestle with affection And never to let Beatrice know of it So turns she every man the wrong side out And never gives to truth and virtue that Which simpleness and merit purchaseth Nay, but his jesting spirit, which is new-crept into a lutestring, and now govern'd by stops If you will follow me, I will show you enough; and when you have seen more and heard more, proceed accordingly To be a well-favoured man is the gift of fortune, but to write and read comes by nature You are thought here to be the most senseless and fit man for the constable of the watch Well, you are to call at all the alehouses and bid those that are drunk get them to bed Stand thee close then under this penthouse, for it drizzles rain, and I will, like a true drunkard, utter all to thee 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 I like the new tire within excellently, if the hair were a thought browner; and your gown's a most rare fashion, i' faith Is there any harm in 'the heavier for a husband'? None, I think, an it be the right husband and the right wife Yes, I thank God I am as honest as any man living that is an old man and no honester than I Go, good partner, go get you to Francis Seacoal; bid him bring his pen and inkhorn to the jail Enter Don Pedro, [John the] Bastard, Leonato, Friar [Francis], Claudio, Benedick, Hero, Beatrice, [and Attendants] If I have known her, You will say she did embrace me as a husband, And so extenuate the forehand sin No, Leonato, I never tempted her with word too large, But, as a brother to his sister, show'd Bashful sincerity and comely love Upon my honour, Myself, my brother, and this grieved Count Did see her, hear her, at that hour last night Talk with a ruffian at her chamber window, Who hath indeed, most like a liberal villain, Confess'd the vile encounters they have had A thousand times in secret O Hero! what a Hero hadst thou been If half thy outward graces had been plac'd About thy thoughts and counsels of thy heart! But fare thee well, most foul, most fair! Farewell, Thou pure impiety and impious purity! For thee I'll lock up all the gates of love, And on my eyelids shall conjecture hang, To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm, And never shall it more be gracious And if it sort not well, you may conceal her, As best befits her wounded reputation, In some reclusive and religious life, Out of all eyes, tongues, minds, and injuries Princes and Counties! Surely a princely testimony, a goodly count, Count Comfect, a sweet gallant surely! O that I were a man for his sake! or that I had any friend would be a man for my sake! But manhood is melted into cursies, valour into compliment, and men are only turn'd into tongue, and trim ones too Enter the Constables [Dogberry and Verges] and the Sexton, in gowns, [and the Watch, with Conrade and] Borachio Write down that they hope they serve God; and write God first, for God defend but God should go before such villains! Masters, it is proved already that you are little better than false knaves, and it will go near to be thought so shortly And that Count Claudio did mean, upon his words, to disgrace Hero before the whole assembly, and not marry her I am a wise fellow; and which is more, an officer; and which is more, a householder; and which is more, as pretty a piece of flesh as any is in Messina, and one that knows the law, go to! and a rich fellow enough, go to! and a fellow that hath had losses; and one that hath two gowns and everything handsome about him Bring me a father that so lov'd his child, Whose joy of her is overwhelm'd like mine, And bid him speak to me of patience Measure his woe the length and breadth of mine, And let it answer every strain for strain, As thus for thus, and such a grief for such, In every lineament, branch, shape, and form If such a one will smile and stroke his beard, Bid sorrow wag, cry 'hem' when he should groan, Patch grief with proverbs, make misfortune drunk With candle-wasters--bring him yet to me, And I of him will gather patience But there is no such man; for, brother, men Can counsel and speak comfort to that grief Which they themselves not feel; but, tasting it, Their counsel turns to passion, which before Would give preceptial medicine to rage, Fetter strong madness in a silken thread, Charm ache with air and agony with words I will be flesh and blood; For there was never yet philosopher That could endure the toothache patiently, However they have writ the style of gods And made a push at chance and sufferance My soul doth tell me Hero is belied; And that shall Claudio know; so shall the Prince, And all of them that thus dishonour her My lord, my lord, I'll prove it on his body if he dare, Despite his nice fence and his active practice, His May of youth and bloom of lustihood What, man! I know them, yea, And what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple, Scambling, outfacing, fashion-monging boys, That lie and cog and flout, deprave and slander, Go anticly, show outward hideousness, And speak off half a dozen dang'rous words, How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst; And this is all My heart is sorry for your daughter's death; But, on my honour, she was charg'd with nothing But what was true, and very full of proof We have been up and down to seek thee; for we are high-proof melancholy, and would fain have it beaten away What a pretty thing man is when he goes in his doublet and hose and leaves off his wit! Enter Constables [Dogberry and Verges, with the Watch, leading] Conrade and Borachio Marry, sir, they have committed false report; moreover, they have spoken untruths; secondarily, they are slanders; sixth and lastly, they have belied a lady; thirdly, they have verified unjust things; and to conclude, they are lying knaves First, I ask thee what they have done; thirdly, I ask thee what's their offence; sixth and lastly, why they are committed; and to conclude, what you lay to their charge I cannot bid you bid my daughter live- That were impossible; but I pray you both, Possess the people in Messina here How innocent she died; and if your love Can labour aught in sad invention, Hang her an epitaph upon her tomb, And sing it to her bones--sing it to-night My brother hath a daughter, Almost the copy of my child that's dead, And she alone is heir to both of us They say he wears a key in his ear, and a lock hanging by it, and borrows money in God's name, the which he hath us'd so long and never paid that now men grow hard-hearted and will lend nothing for God's sake If you use them, Margaret, you must put in the pikes with a vice, and they are dangerous weapons for maids [Sings] The god of love, That sits above And knows me, and knows me, How pitiful I deserve-- I mean in singing; but in loving Leander the good swimmer, Troilus the first employer of panders, and a whole book full of these quondam carpet-mongers, whose names yet run smoothly in the even road of a blank verse--why, they were never so truly turn'd over and over as my poor self in love And yet, ere I go, let me go with that I came for, which is, with knowing what hath pass'd between you and Claudio Foul words is but foul wind, and foul wind is but foul breath, and foul breath is noisome If a man do not erect in this age his own tomb ere he dies, he shall live no longer in monument than the bell rings and the widow weeps It is proved my Lady Hero hath been falsely accus'd, the Prince and Claudio mightily abus'd, and Don John is the author of all, who is fled and gone 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 Well, daughter, and you gentlewomen all, Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves, And when I send for you, come hither mask'd No, that you shall not till you take her hand Before this friar and swear to marry her And when I liv'd I was your other wife; [Unmasks.] And when you lov'd you were my other husband In brief, since I do purpose to marry, I will think nothing to any purpose that the world can say against it; and therefore never flout at me for what I have said against it; for man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion Let's have a dance ere we are married, that we may lighten our own hearts and our wives' heels My lord, your brother John is ta'en in flight, And brought with armed men back to Messina But he, sir, had the election; And I, of whom his eyes had seen the proof At Rhodes, at Cyprus, and on other grounds Christian and heathen, must be belee'd and calm'd By debitor and creditor This counter-caster, He, in good time, must his lieutenant be, And I- God bless the mark!- his Moorship's ancient You shall mark Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave, That doting on his own obsequious bondage Wears out his time, much like his master's ass, For nought but provender, and when he's old, cashier'd Arise, arise! Awake the snorting citizens with the bell, Or else the devil will make a grandsire of you Because we come to do you service and you think we are ruffians, you'll have your daughter covered with a Barbary horse; you'll have your nephews neigh to you; you'll have coursers for cousins, and gennets for germans Do not believe That, from the sense of all civility, I thus would play and trifle with your reverence Your daughter, if you have not given her leave, I say again, hath made a gross revolt, Tying her duty, beauty, wit, and fortunes In an extravagant and wheeling stranger Of here and everywhere That you shall surely find him, Lead to the Sagittary the raised search, And there will I be with him Enter Brabantio, Roderigo, and Officers with torches and weapons I therefore apprehend and do attach thee For an abuser of the world, a practicer Of arts inhibited and out of warrant The Duke himself, Or any of my brothers of the state, Cannot but feel this wrong as 'twere their own; For if such actions may have passage free, Bond slaves and pagans shall our statesmen be But though they jump not on a just account- As in these cases, where the aim reports, 'Tis oft with difference- yet do they all confirm A Turkish fleet, and bearing up to Cyprus If we make thought of this, We must not think the Turk is so unskillful To leave that latest which concerns him first, Neglecting an attempt of ease and gain, To wake and wage a danger profitless Signior Montano, Your trusty and most valiant servitor, With his free duty recommends you thus, And prays you to believe him [To Brabantio.] I did not see you; welcome, gentle signior; We lack'd your counsel and your help tonight Neither my place nor aught I heard of business Hath raised me from my bed, nor doth the general care Take hold on me; for my particular grief Is of so flood-gate and o'erbearing nature That it engluts and swallows other sorrows, And it is still itself I do beseech you, Send for the lady to the Sagittary, And let her speak of me before her father And till she come, as truly as to heaven I do confess the vices of my blood, So justly to your grave ears I'll present How I did thrive in this fair lady's love And she in mine She wish'd she had not heard it, yet she wish'd That heaven had made her such a man; she thank'd me, And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her, I should but teach him how to tell my story, And that would woo her I saw Othello's visage in his mind, And to his honors and his valiant parts Did I my soul and fortunes consecrate Vouch with me, heaven, I therefore beg it not To please the palate of my appetite, Nor to comply with heat- the young affects In me defunct- and proper satisfaction; But to be free and bounteous to her mind Look to her, Moor, if thou hast eyes to see; She has deceived her father, and may thee Thus do I ever make my fool my purse; For I mine own gain'd knowledge should profane If I would time expend with such a snipe But for my sport and profit For do but stand upon the foaming shore, The chidden billow seems to pelt the clouds; The wind-shaked surge, with high and monstrous mane, Seems to cast water on the burning bear, And quench the guards of the ever-fixed pole Michael Cassio, Lieutenant to the warlike Moor, Othello, Is come on shore; the Moor himself at sea, And is in full commission here for Cyprus 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 His bark is stoutly timber'd, and his pilot Of very expert and approved allowance; Therefore my hopes, not surfeited to death, Stand in bold cure Great Jove, Othello guard, And swell his sail with thine own powerful breath, That he may bless this bay with his tall ship, Make love's quick pants in Desdemona's arms, Give renew'd fire to our extincted spirits, And bring all Cyprus comfort Marry, before your ladyship I grant, She puts her tongue a little in her heart And chides with thinking You are pictures out of doors, Bells in your parlors, wildcats in your kitchens, Saints in your injuries, devils being offended, Players in your housewifery, and housewives in your beds I am about it, but indeed my invention Comes from my pate as birdlime does from frieze; It plucks out brains and all There's none so foul and foolish thereunto, But does foul pranks which fair and wise ones do O most lame and impotent conclusion! Do not learn of him, Emilia, though he be thy husband Lechery, by this hand; an index and obscure prologue to the history of lust and foul thoughts Villainous thoughts, Roderigo! When these mutualities so marshal the way, hard at hand comes the master and main exercise, the incorporate conclusion That Cassio loves her, I do well believe it; That she loves him, 'tis apt and of great credit The Moor, howbeit that I endure him not, Is of a constant, loving, noble nature, And I dare think he'll prove to Desdemona A most dear husband Heaven bless the isle of Cyprus and our noble general Othello! Exeunt Come, my dear love, The purchase made, the fruits are to ensue; That profit's yet to come 'tween me and you I have drunk but one cup tonight, and that was craftily qualified too, and behold what innovation it makes here Now my sick fool Roderigo, Whom love hath turn'd almost the wrong side out, To Desdemona hath tonight caroused Potations pottle-deep; and he's to watch Three lads of Cyprus, noble swelling spirits, That hold their honors in a wary distance, The very elements of this warlike isle, Have I tonight fluster'd with flowing cups, And they watch too If consequence do but approve my dream, My boat sails freely, both with wind and stream Some wine, ho! [Sings.] "And let me the canakin clink, clink; And let me the canakin clink Well, God's above all, and there be souls must be saved, and there be souls must not be saved You see this fellow that is gone before; He is a soldier fit to stand by Caesar And give direction I fear the trust Othello puts him in On some odd time of his infirmity Will shake this island Perhaps he sees it not, or his good nature Prizes the virtue that appears in Cassio And looks not on his evils Iago, look with care about the town, And silence those whom this vile brawl distracted To be now a sensible man, by and by a fool, and presently a beast! O strange! Every inordinate cup is unblest, and the ingredient is a devil I may say so in this respect, for that he hath devoted and given up himself to the contemplation, mark, and denotement of her parts and graces How poor are they that have not patience! What wound did ever heal but by degrees? Thou know'st we work by wit and not by witchcraft, And wit depends on dilatory time Does't not go well? Cassio hath beaten thee, And thou by that small hurt hast cashier'd Cassio Ay, but, lady, That policy may either last so long, Or feed upon such nice and waterish diet, Or breed itself so out of circumstances, That I being absent and my place supplied, My general will forget my love and service I wonder in my soul, What you would ask me, that I should deny, Or stand so mammering on Nay, when I have a suit Wherein I mean to touch your love indeed, It shall be full of poise and difficult weight, And fearful to be granted I do beseech you- Though I perchance am vicious in my guess, As, I confess, it is my nature's plague To spy into abuses, and oft my jealousy Shapes faults that are not- that your wisdom yet, From one that so imperfectly conceits, Would take no notice, nor build yourself a trouble Out of his scattering and unsure observance Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing; 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands; But he that filches from me my good name Robs me of that which not enriches him And makes me poor indeed Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw The smallest fear or doubt of her revolt; For she had eyes and chose me I do not in position Distinctly speak of her; though I may fear, Her will, recoiling to her better judgement, May fall to match you with her country forms, And happily repent Why did I marry? This honest creature doubtless Sees and knows more, much more, than he unfolds Though it be fit that Cassio have his place, For sure he fills it up with great ability, Yet, if you please to hold him off awhile, You shall by that perceive him and his means In the meantime, Let me be thought too busy in my fears- As worthy cause I have to fear I am- And hold her free, I do beseech your honor Your napkin is too little; He puts the handkerchief from him, and she drops it My wayward husband hath a hundred times Woo'd me to steal it; but she so loves the token, For he conjured her she should ever keep it, That she reserves it evermore about her To kiss and talk to No, faith; she let it drop by negligence, And, to the advantage, I being here took't up He that is robb'd, not wanting what is stol'n, Let him not know't and he's not robb'd at all O wretched fool, That livest to make thine honesty a vice! O monstrous world! Take note, take note, O world, To be direct and honest is not safe By the world, I think my wife be honest, and think she is not; I think that thou art just, and think thou art not I greet thy love, Not with vain thanks, but with acceptance bounteous, And will upon the instant put thee to't Beshrew me much, Emilia, I was, unhandsome warrior as I am, Arraigning his unkindness with my soul; But now I find I had suborn'd the witness, And he's indicted falsely They that mean virtuously and yet do so, The devil their virtue tempts and they tempt heaven Thou said'st- O, it comes o'er my memory, As doth the raven o'er the infected house, Boding to all- he had my handkerchief Lie with her! 'Zounds, that's fulsome! Handkerchief- confessions- handkerchief! To confess and be hanged for his labor- first, to be hanged, and then to confess O, 'tis the spite of hell, the fiend's arch-mock, To lip a wanton in a secure couch, And to suppose her chaste! No, let me know, And knowing what I am, I know what she shall be Do but encave yourself And mark the fleers, the gibes, and notable scorns, That dwell in every region of his face; For I will make him tell the tale anew, Where, how, how oft, how long ago, and when He hath and is again to cope your wife Marry, patience, Or I shall say you are all in all in spleen, And nothing of a man Now will I question Cassio of Bianca, A housewife that by selling her desires Buys herself bread and clothes It is a creature That dotes on Cassio, as 'tis the strumpet's plague To beguile many and be beguiled by one And to see how he prizes the foolish woman your wife! She gave it him, and he hath given it his whore If any wretch have put this in your head, Let heaven requite it with the serpent's curse! For if she be not honest, chaste, and true, There's no man happy; the purest of their wives Is foul as slander What committed! Heaven stops the nose at it, and the moon winks; The bawdy wind, that kisses all it meets, Is hush'd within the hollow mine of earth, And will not hear it I will be hang'd, if some eternal villain, Some busy and insinuating rogue, Some cogging, cozening slave, to get some office, Have not devised this slander; I'll be hang'd else 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 You have told me she hath received them and returned me expectations and comforts of sudden respect and acquaintance; but I find none 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 If you will watch his going thence, which his will fashion to fall out between twelve and one, you may take him at your pleasure; I will be near to second your attempt, and he shall fall between us My love doth so approve him, That even his stubbornness, his checks, his frowns- Prithee, unpin me- have grace and favor in them My mother had a maid call'd Barbary; She was in love, and he she loved proved mad And did forsake her She had a song of "willow"; An old thing 'twas, but it express'd her fortune, And she died singing it That song tonight Will not go from my mind; I have much to do But to go hang my head all at one side And sing it like poor Barbary The fresh streams ran by her, and murmur'd her moans, Sing willow, willow, willow; Her salt tears fell from her, and soften'd the stones-" Lay be these- [Sings.] "Sing willow, willow, willow-" Prithee, hie thee; he'll come anon- [Sings.] "Sing all a green willow must be my garland Let husbands know Their wives have sense like them; they see and smell And have their palates both for sweet and sour, As husbands have If Cassio do remain, He hath a daily beauty in his life That makes me ugly; and besides, the Moor May unfold me to him; there stand I in much peril O treacherous villains! [To Lodovico and Gratiano.] What are you there? Come in and give some help Cassio hath here been set on in the dark By Roderigo, and fellows that are 'scaped; He's almost slain, and Roderigo dead Yet I'll not shed her blood, Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow And smooth as monumental alabaster O, balmy breath, that dost almost persuade Justice to break her sword! One more, one more; Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee, And love thee after It is the very error of the moon; She comes more nearer earth than she was wont And makes men mad Help! help, ho! help! The Moor hath kill'd my mistress! Murther, murther! Enter Montano, Gratiano, Iago, and others I told him what I thought, and told no more Than what he found himself was apt and true [Rises.] O, she was foul! I scarce did know you, uncle; there lies your niece, Whose breath indeed these hands have newly stopp'd Thy match was mortal to him, and pure grief Shore his old thread in twain; did he live now, This sight would make him do a desperate turn, Yea, curse his better angel from his side, And fall to reprobation 'Tis pitiful, but yet Iago knows That she with Cassio hath the act of shame A thousand times committed What did thy song bode, lady? Hark, canst thou hear me? I will play the swan, And die in music Be not afraid, though you do see me weapon'd; Here is my journey's end, here is my butt And very sea-mark of my utmost sail Where should Othello go? Now, how dost thou look now? O ill-starr'd wench! Pale as thy smock! When we shall meet at compt, This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven, And fiends will snatch at it 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 Now here's another discontented paper, Found in his pocket too; and this, it seems, Roderigo meant to have sent this damned villain; But that, belike, Iago in the interim Came in and satisfied him Set you down this; And say besides, that in Aleppo once, Where a malignant and a turban'd Turk Beat a Venetian and traduced the state, I took by the throat the circumcised dog And smote him, thus DRAMATIS PERSONAE KING RICHARD THE SECOND JOHN OF GAUNT, Duke of Lancaster - uncle to the King EDMUND LANGLEY, Duke of York - uncle to the King HENRY, surnamed BOLINGBROKE, Duke of Hereford, son of John of Gaunt, afterwards King Henry IV DUKE OF AUMERLE, son of the Duke of York THOMAS MOWBRAY, Duke of Norfolk DUKE OF SURREY EARL OF SALISBURY EARL BERKELEY BUSHY - favourites of King Richard BAGOT - " " " " GREEN - " " " " EARL OF NORTHUMBERLAND HENRY PERCY, surnamed HOTSPUR, his son LORD Ross LORD WILLOUGHBY LORD FITZWATER BISHOP OF CARLISLE ABBOT OF WESTMINSTER LORD MARSHAL SIR STEPHEN SCROOP SIR PIERCE OF EXTON CAPTAIN of a band of Welshmen TWO GARDENERS QUEEN to King Richard DUCHESS OF YORK DUCHESS OF GLOUCESTER, widow of Thomas of Woodstock, Duke of Gloucester LADY attending on the Queen Lords, Heralds, Officers, Soldiers, Keeper, Messenger, Groom, and other Attendants face to face And frowning brow to brow, ourselves will hear The accuser and the accused freely speak Look what I speak, my life shall prove it true- That Mowbray hath receiv'd eight thousand nobles In name of lendings for your Highness' soldiers, The which he hath detain'd for lewd employments Like a false traitor and injurious villain Besides, I say and will in battle prove- Or here, or elsewhere to the furthest verge That ever was survey'd by English eye- That all the treasons for these eighteen years Complotted and contrived in this land Fetch from false Mowbray their first head and spring O, let my sovereign turn away his face And bid his ears a little while be deaf, Till I have told this slander of his blood How God and good men hate so foul a liar For you, my noble Lord of Lancaster, The honourable father to my foe, Once did I lay an ambush for your life, A trespass that doth vex my grieved soul; But ere I last receiv'd the sacrament I did confess it, and exactly begg'd Your Grace's pardon; and I hope I had it Myself I throw, dread sovereign, at thy foot; My life thou shalt command, but not my shame Some of those seven are dried by nature's course, Some of those branches by the Destinies cut; But Thomas, my dear lord, my life, my Gloucester, One vial full of Edward's sacred blood, One flourishing branch of his most royal root, Is crack'd, and all the precious liquor spilt; Is hack'd down, and his summer leaves all faded, By envy's hand and murder's bloody axe The trumpets sound, and the KING enters with his nobles, GAUNT, BUSHY, BAGOT, GREEN, and others In God's name and the King's, say who thou art, And why thou comest thus knightly clad in arms; Against what man thou com'st, and what thy quarrel My name is Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk; Who hither come engaged by my oath- Which God defend a knight should violate!- Both to defend my loyalty and truth To God, my King, and my succeeding issue, Against the Duke of Hereford that appeals me; And, by the grace of God and this mine arm, To prove him, in defending of myself, A traitor to my God, my King, and me Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, Am I; who ready here do stand in arms To prove, by God's grace and my body's valour, In lists on Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, That he is a traitor, foul and dangerous, To God of heaven, King Richard, and to me Lord Marshal, let me kiss my sovereign's hand, And bow my knee before his Majesty; For Mowbray and myself are like two men That vow a long and weary pilgrimage The appellant in all duty greets your Highness, And craves to kiss your hand and take his leave My loving lord, I take my leave of you; Of you, my noble cousin, Lord Aumerle; Not sick, although I have to do with death, But lusty, young, and cheerly drawing breath However God or fortune cast my lot, There lives or dies, true to King Richard's throne, A loyal, just, and upright gentleman Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, Stands here for God, his sovereign, and himself, On pain to be found false and recreant, To prove the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray, A traitor to his God, his King, and him; And dares him to set forward to the fight Let them lay by their helmets and their spears, And both return back to their chairs again A long flourish, while the KING consults his Council Draw near, And list what with our council we have done This must my comfort be- That sun that warms you here shall shine on me, And those his golden beams to you here lent Shall point on me and gild my banishment A heavy sentence, my most sovereign liege, And all unlook'd for from your Highness' mouth A dearer merit, not so deep a maim As to be cast forth in the common air, Have I deserved at your Highness' hands You never shall, so help you truth and God, Embrace each other's love in banishment; Nor never look upon each other's face; Nor never write, regreet, nor reconcile This louring tempest of your home-bred hate; Nor never by advised purpose meet To plot, contrive, or complot any ill, 'Gainst us, our state, our subjects, or our land No, Bolingbroke; if ever I were traitor, My name be blotted from the book of life, And I from heaven banish'd as from hence! But what thou art, God, thou, and I, do know; And all too soon, I fear, the King shall rue I thank my liege that in regard of me He shortens four years of my son's exile; But little vantage shall I reap thereby, For ere the six years that he hath to spend Can change their moons and bring their times about, My oil-dried lamp and time-bewasted light Shall be extinct with age and endless night; My inch of taper will be burnt and done, And blindfold death not let me see my son Nay, rather, every tedious stride I make Will but remember me what a deal of world I wander from the jewels that I love Go, say I sent thee forth to purchase honour, And not the King exil'd thee; or suppose Devouring pestilence hangs in our air And thou art flying to a fresher clime Suppose the singing birds musicians, The grass whereon thou tread'st the presence strew'd, The flowers fair ladies, and thy steps no more Than a delightful measure or a dance; For gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite The man that mocks at it and sets it light Then, England's ground, farewell; sweet soil, adieu; My mother, and my nurse, that bears me yet! Where'er I wander, boast of this I can I brought high Hereford, if you call him so, But to the next high way, and there I left him Off goes his bonnet to an oyster-wench; A brace of draymen bid God speed him well And had the tribute of his supple knee, With 'Thanks, my countrymen, my loving friends'; As were our England in reversion his, And he our subjects' next degree in hope Well, he is gone; and with him go these thoughts! Now for the rebels which stand out in Ireland, Expedient manage must be made, my liege, Ere further leisure yicld them further means For their advantage and your Highness' loss We will ourself in person to this war; And, for our coffers, with too great a court And liberal largess, are grown somewhat light, We are enforc'd to farm our royal realm; The revenue whereof shall furnish us For our affairs in hand If that come short, Our substitutes at home shall have blank charters; Whereto, when they shall know what men are rich, They shall subscribe them for large sums of gold, And send them after to supply our wants; For we will make for Ireland presently The pleasure that some fathers feed upon Is my strict fast-I mean my children's looks; And therein fasting, hast thou made me gaunt Now He that made me knows I see thee ill; Ill in myself to see, and in thee seeing ill A thousand flatterers sit within thy crown, Whose compass is no bigger than thy head; And yet, incaged in so small a verge, The waste is no whit lesser than thy land Why, cousin, wert thou regent of the world, It were a shame to let this land by lease; But for thy world enjoying but this land, Is it not more than shame to shame it so? Landlord of England art thou now, not King O, Spare me not, my brother Edward's son, For that I was his father Edward's son; That blood already, like the pelican, Hast thou tapp'd out, and drunkenly carous'd And let them die that age and sullens have; For both hast thou, and both become the grave His tongue is now a stringless instrument; Words, life, and all, old Lancaster hath spent And for these great affairs do ask some charge, Towards our assistance we do seize to us The plate, coin, revenues, and moveables, Whereof our uncle Gaunt did stand possess'd In war was never lion rag'd more fierce, In peace was never gentle lamb more mild, Than was that young and princely gentleman His face thou hast, for even so look'd he, Accomplish'd with the number of thy hours; But when he frown'd, it was against the French And not against his friends His noble hand Did win what he did spend, and spent not that Which his triumphant father's hand had won Seek you to seize and gripe into your hands The royalties and rights of banish'd Hereford? Is not Gaunt dead? and doth not Hereford live? Was not Gaunt just? and is not Harry true? Did not the one deserve to have an heir? Is not his heir a well-deserving son? Take Hereford's rights away, and take from Time His charters and his customary rights; Let not to-morrow then ensue to-day; Be not thyself-for how art thou a king But by fair sequence and succession? Now, afore God-God forbid I say true!- If you do wrongfully seize Hereford's rights, Call in the letters patents that he hath By his attorneys-general to sue His livery, and deny his off'red homage, You pluck a thousand dangers on your head, You lose a thousand well-disposed hearts, And prick my tender patience to those thoughts Which honour and allegiance cannot think Think what you will, we seize into our hands His plate, his goods, his money, and his lands And we create, in absence of ourself, Our Uncle York Lord Governor of England; For he is just, and always lov'd us well Exeunt KING, QUEEN, BUSHY, AUMERLE, GREEN, and BAGOT NORTHUMBERLAND No good at all that I can do for him; Unless you call it good to pity him, Bereft and gelded of his patrimony Now, afore God, 'tis shame such wrongs are borne In him, a royal prince, and many moe Of noble blood in this declining land The King is not himself, but basely led By flatterers; and what they will inform, Merely in hate, 'gainst any of us an, That will the King severely prosecute 'Gainst us, our lives, our children, and our heirs The commons hath he pill'd with grievous taxes; And quite lost their hearts; the nobles hath he find For ancient quarrels and quite lost their hearts And daily new exactions are devis'd, As blanks, benevolences, and I wot not what; But what, a God's name, doth become of this? NORTHUMBERLAND His noble kinsman-most degenerate king! But, lords, we hear this fearful tempest sing, Yet seek no shelter to avoid the storm; We see the wind sit sore upon our sails, And yet we strike not, but securely perish I have from Le Port Blanc, a bay In Brittany, receiv'd intelligence That Harry Duke of Hereford, Rainold Lord Cobham, That late broke from the Duke of Exeter, His brother, Archbishop late of Canterbury, Sir Thomas Erpingham, Sir John Ramston, Sir John Norbery, Sir Robert Waterton, and Francis Quoint- All these, well furnish'd by the Duke of Britaine, With eight tall ships, three thousand men of war, Are making hither with all due expedience, And shortly mean to touch our northern shore Perhaps they had ere this, but that they stay The first departing of the King for Ireland If then we shall shake off our slavish yoke, Imp out our drooping country's broken wing, Redeem from broking pawn the blemish'd crown, Wipe off the dust that hides our sceptre's gilt, And make high majesty look like itself, Away with me in post to Ravenspurgh; But if you faint, as fearing to do so, Stay and be secret, and myself will go You promis'd, when you parted with the King, To lay aside life-harming heaviness And entertain a cheerful disposition 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 That he, our hope, might have retir'd his power And driven into despair an enemy's hope Who strongly hath set footing in this land Comfort's in heaven; and we are on the earth, Where nothing lives but crosses, cares, and grief He was-why so go all which way it will! The nobles they are fled, the commons they are cold And will, I fear, revolt on Hereford's side Sirrah, get thee to Plashy, to my sister Gloucester; Bid her send me presently a thousand pound Go, fellow, get thee home, provide some carts, And bring away the armour that is there T'one is my sovereign, whom both my oath And duty bids defend; t'other again Is my kinsman, whom the King hath wrong'd, Whom conscience and my kindred bids to right These high wild hills and rough uneven ways Draws out our miles, and makes them wearisome; And yet your fair discourse hath been as sugar, Making the hard way sweet and delectable But I bethink me what a weary way From Ravenspurgh to Cotswold will be found In Ross and Willoughby, wanting your company, Which, I protest, hath very much beguil'd The tediousness and process of my travel My gracious lord, I tender you my service, Such as it is, being tender, raw, and young; Which elder days shall ripen, and confirm To more approved service and desert There stands the castle, by yon tuft of trees, Mann'd with three hundred men, as I have heard; And in it are the Lords of York, Berkeley, and Seymour- None else of name and noble estimate All my treasury Is yet but unfelt thanks, which, more enrich'd, Shall be your love and labour's recompense Evermore thanks, the exchequer of the poor; Which, till my infant fortune comes to years, Stands for my bounty 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 Why have those banish'd and forbidden legs Dar'd once to touch a dust of England's ground? But then more 'why?'-why have they dar'd to march So many miles upon her peaceful bosom, Frighting her pale-fac'd villages with war And ostentation of despised arms? Com'st thou because the anointed King is hence? Why, foolish boy, the King is left behind, And in my loyal bosom lies his power You have a son, Aumerle, my noble cousin; Had you first died, and he been thus trod down, He should have found his uncle Gaunt a father To rouse his wrongs and chase them to the bay My father's goods are all distrain'd and sold; And these and all are all amiss employ'd I have had feeling of my cousin's wrongs, And labour'd all I could to do him right; But in this kind to come, in braving arms, Be his own carver and cut out his way, To find out right with wrong-it may not be; And you that do abet him in this kind Cherish rebellion, and are rebels all So, fare you well; Unless you please to enter in the castle, And there repose you for this night But we must win your Grace to go with us To Bristow Castle, which they say is held By Bushy, Bagot, and their complices, The caterpillars of the commonwealth, Which I have sworn to weed and pluck away The bay trees in our country are all wither'd, And meteors fright the fixed stars of heaven; The pale-fac'd moon looks bloody on the earth, And lean-look'd prophets whisper fearful change; Rich men look sad, and ruffians dance and leap- The one in fear to lose what they enjoy, The other to enjoy by rage and war Ah, Richard, with the eyes of heavy mind, I see thy glory like a shooting star Fall to the base earth from the firmament! The sun sets weeping in the lowly west, Witnessing storms to come, woe, and unrest; Thy friends are fled, to wait upon thy foes; And crossly to thy good all fortune goes My comfort is that heaven will take our souls, And plague injustice with the pains of hell 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 The means that heaven yields must be embrac'd And not neglected; else, if heaven would, And we will not, heaven's offer we refuse, The proffered means of succour and redress He means, my lord, that we are too remiss; Whilst Bolingbroke, through our security, Grows strong and great in substance and in power O, call back yesterday, bid time return, And thou shalt have twelve thousand fighting men! To-day, to-day, unhappy day, too late, O'erthrows thy joys, friends, fortune, and thy state; For all the Welshmen, hearing thou wert dead, Are gone to Bolingbroke, dispers'd, and fled Say, is my kingdom lost? Why, 'twas my care, And what loss is it to be rid of care? Strives Bolingbroke to be as great as we? Greater he shall not be; if he serve God, We'll serve him too, and be his fellow so Cry woe, destruction, ruin, and decay- The worst is death, and death will have his day 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 Again uncurse their souls; their peace is made With heads, and not with hands; those whom you curse Have felt the worst of death's destroying wound And lie full low, grav'd in the hollow ground Let's choose executors and talk of wills; And yet not so-for what can we bequeath Save our deposed bodies to the ground? Our lands, our lives, and an, are Bolingbroke's And nothing can we can our own but death And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones To fear the foe, since fear oppresseth strength, Gives, in your weakness, strength unto your foe, And so your follies fight against yourself It would beseem the Lord Northumberland To say 'King Richard.' Alack the heavy day When such a sacred king should hide his head! NORTHUMBERLAND [To NORTHUMBERLAND] Noble lord, Go to the rude ribs of that ancient castle; Through brazen trumpet send the breath of parley Into his ruin'd ears, and thus deliver Be he the fire, I'll be the yielding water; The rage be his, whilst on the earth I rain My waters-on the earth, and not on him And though you think that all, as you have done, Have torn their souls by turning them from us, And we are barren and bereft of friends, Yet know-my master, God omnipotent, Is mustering in his clouds on our behalf Armies of pestilence; and they shall strike Your children yet unborn and unbegot, That lift your vassal hands against my head And threat the glory of my precious crown No, good my lord; let's fight with gentle words Till time lend friends, and friends their helpful swords O God, O God! that e'er this tongue of mine That laid the sentence of dread banishment On yon proud man should take it off again With words of sooth! O that I were as great As is my grief, or lesser than my name! Or that I could forget what I have been! Or not remember what I must be now! Swell'st thou, proud heart? I'll give thee scope to beat, Since foes have scope to beat both thee and me I'll give my jewels for a set of beads, My gorgeous palace for a hermitage, My gay apparel for an almsman's gown, My figur'd goblets for a dish of wood, My sceptre for a palmer's walking staff, My subjects for a pair of carved saints, And my large kingdom for a little grave, A little little grave, an obscure grave- Or I'll be buried in the king's high way, Some way of common trade, where subjects' feet May hourly trample on their sovereign's head; For on my heart they tread now whilst I live, And buried once, why not upon my head? Aumerle, thou weep'st, my tender-hearted cousin! We'll make foul weather with despised tears; Our sighs and they shall lodge the summer corn And make a dearth in this revolting land Most mighty prince, my Lord Northumberland, What says King Bolingbroke? Will his Majesty Give Richard leave to live till Richard die? You make a leg, and Bolingbroke says ay In the base court? Base court, where kings grow base, To come at traitors' calls, and do them grace 'Twill make me think the world is full of rubs And that my fortune runs against the bias Of neither, girl; For if of joy, being altogether wanting, It doth remember me the more of sorrow; Or if of grief, being altogether had, It adds more sorrow to my want of joy; For what I have I need not to repeat, And what I want it boots not to complain 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 Who sets me else? By heaven, I'll throw at all! I have a thousand spirits in one breast To answer twenty thousand such as you How fondly dost thou spur a forward horse! If I dare eat, or drink, or breathe, or live, I dare meet Surrey in a wilderness, And spit upon him whilst I say he lies, And lies, and lies These differences shall all rest under gage Till Norfolk be repeal'd-repeal'd he shall be And, though mine enemy, restor'd again To all his lands and signories Great Duke of Lancaster, I come to the From plume-pluck'd Richard, who with willing soul Adopts thee heir, and his high sceptre yields To the possession of thy royal hand My Lord of Hereford here, whom you call king, Is a foul traitor to proud Hereford's king; And if you crown him, let me prophesy- The blood of English shall manure the ground, And future ages groan for this foul act; Peace shall go sleep with Turks and infidels, And in this seat of peace tumultuous wars Shall kin with kin and kind with kind confound; Disorder, horror, fear, and mutiny, Shall here inhabit, and this land be call'd The field of Golgotha and dead men's skulls Alack, why am I sent for to a king, Before I have shook off the regal thoughts Wherewith I reign'd? I hardly yet have learn'd To insinuate, flatter, bow, and bend my knee Were they not mine? Did they not sometime cry 'All hail!' to me? So Judas did to Christ; but he, in twelve, Found truth in all but one; I, in twelve thousand, none Now is this golden crown like a deep well That owes two buckets, filling one another; The emptier ever dancing in the air, The other down, unseen, and full of water I give this heavy weight from off my head, And this unwieldy sceptre from my hand, The pride of kingly sway from out my heart; With mine own tears I wash away my balm, With mine own hands I give away my crown, With mine own tongue deny my sacred state, With mine own breath release all duteous oaths; All pomp and majesty I do forswear; My manors, rents, revenues, I forgo; My acts, decrees, and statutes, I deny God pardon all oaths that are broke to me! God keep all vows unbroke are made to thee! Make me, that nothing have, with nothing griev'd, And thou with all pleas'd, that hast an achiev'd God save King Henry, unking'd Richard says, And send him many years of sunshine days! What more remains? NORTHUMBERLAND Nay, all of you that stand and look upon me Whilst that my wretchedness doth bait myself, Though some of you, with Pilate, wash your hands, Showing an outward pity-yet you Pilates Have here deliver'd me to my sour cross, And water cannot wash away your sin I'll read enough, When I do see the very book indeed Where all my sins are writ, and that's myself I see your brows are full of discontent, Your hearts of sorrow, and your eyes of tears Yet look up, behold, That you in pity may dissolve to dew, And wash him fresh again with true-love tears The love of wicked men converts to fear; That fear to hate; and hate turns one or both To worthy danger and deserved death Doubly divorc'd! Bad men, you violate A twofold marriage-'twixt my crown and me, And then betwixt me and my married wife Twice for one step I'll groan, the way being short, And piece the way out with a heavy heart One kiss shall stop our mouths, and dumbly part; Thus give I mine, and thus take I thy heart At that sad stop, my lord, Where rude misgoverned hands from windows' tops Threw dust and rubbish on King Richard's head Then, as I said, the Duke, great Bolingbroke, Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed Which his aspiring rider seem'd to know, With slow but stately pace kept on his course, Whilst all tongues cried 'God save thee, Bolingbroke!' You would have thought the very windows spake, So many greedy looks of young and old Through casements darted their desiring eyes Upon his visage; and that all the walls With painted imagery had said at once 'Jesu preserve thee! Welcome, Bolingbroke!' Whilst he, from the one side to the other turning, Bareheaded, lower than his proud steed's neck, Bespake them thus, 'I thank you, countrymen.' And thus still doing, thus he pass'd along As in a theatre the eyes of men After a well-grac'd actor leaves the stage Are idly bent on him that enters next, Thinking his prattle to be tedious; Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes Did scowl on gentle Richard; no man cried 'God save him!' No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home; But dust was thrown upon his sacred head; Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off, His face still combating with tears and smiles, The badges of his grief and patience, That had not God, for some strong purpose, steel'd The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted, And barbarism itself have pitied him Aumerle that was But that is lost for being Richard's friend, And madam, you must call him Rudand now thou dost suspect That I have been disloyal to thy bed And that he is a bastard, not thy son He is as like thee as a man may be Not like to me, or any of my kin, And yet I love him After, Aumerle! Mount thee upon his horse; Spur post, and get before him to the King, And beg thy pardon ere he do accuse thee My lord, some two days since I saw the Prince, And told him of those triumphs held at Oxford For ever will I walk upon my knees, And never see day that the happy sees Till thou give joy; until thou bid me joy By pardoning Rutland, my transgressing boy Dost thou teach pardon pardon to destroy? Ah, my sour husband, my hard-hearted lord, That sets the word itself against the word! Speak 'pardon' as 'tis current in our land; The chopping French we do not understand how these vain weak nails May tear a passage through the flinty ribs Of this hard world, my ragged prison walls; And, for they cannot, die in their own pride Then crushing penury Persuades me I was better when a king; Then am I king'd again; and by and by Think that I am unking'd by Bolingbroke, And straight am nothing So sighs, and tears, and groans, Show minutes, times, and hours; but my time Runs posting on in Bolingbroke's proud joy, While I stand fooling here, his Jack of the clock So proud that Bolingbroke was on his back! That jade hath eat bread from my royal hand; This hand hath made him proud with clapping him Would he not stumble? would he not fall down, Since pride must have a fall, and break the neck Of that proud man that did usurp his back? Forgiveness, horse! Why do I rail on thee, Since thou, created to be aw'd by man, Wast born to bear? I was not made a horse; And yet I bear a burden like an ass, Spurr'd, gall'd, and tir'd, by jauncing Bolingbroke How now! What means death in this rude assault? Villain, thy own hand yields thy death's instrument The next news is, I have to London sent The heads of Salisbury, Spencer, Blunt, and Kent We thank thee, gentle Percy, for thy pains; And to thy worth will add right worthy gains The grand conspirator, Abbot of Westminster, With clog of conscience and sour melancholy, Hath yielded up his body to the grave; But here is Carlisle living, to abide Thy kingly doom, and sentence of his pride Exton, I thank thee not; for thou hast wrought A deed of slander with thy fatal hand Upon my head and all this famous land The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labour, But neither my good word nor princely favour; With Cain go wander thorough shades of night, And never show thy head by day nor light But I-that am not shap'd for sportive tricks, Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass- I-that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty To strut before a wanton ambling nymph- I-that am curtail'd of this fair proportion, Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time Into this breathing world scarce half made up, And that so lamely and unfashionable That dogs bark at me as I halt by them- Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace, Have no delight to pass away the time, Unless to spy my shadow in the sun And descant on mine own deformity And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover To entertain these fair well-spoken days, I am determined to prove a villain And hate the idle pleasures of these days By heaven, I think there is no man is secure But the Queen's kindred, and night-walking heralds That trudge betwixt the King and Mistress Shore I'll tell you what-I think it is our way, If we will keep in favour with the King, To be her men and wear her livery We speak no treason, man; we say the King Is wise and virtuous, and his noble queen Well struck in years, fair, and not jealous; We say that Shore's wife hath a pretty foot, A cherry lip, a bonny eye, a passing pleasing tongue; And that the Queen's kindred are made gentlefolks Simple, plain Clarence, I do love thee so That I will shortly send thy soul to heaven, If heaven will take the present at our hands No doubt, no doubt; and so shall Clarence too; For they that were your enemies are his, And have prevail'd as much on him as you Poor key-cold figure of a holy king! Pale ashes of the house of Lancaster! Thou bloodless remnant of that royal blood! Be it lawful that I invocate thy ghost To hear the lamentations of poor Anne, Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughtered son, Stabb'd by the self-same hand that made these wounds Advance thy halberd higher than my breast, Or, by Saint Paul, I'll strike thee to my foot And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness What, do you tremble? Are you all afraid? Alas, I blame you not, for you are mortal, And mortal eyes cannot endure the devil 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 O, gentlemen, see, see! Dead Henry's wounds Open their congeal'd mouths and bleed afresh 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 I never sued to friend nor enemy; My tongue could never learn sweet smoothing word; But, now thy beauty is propos'd my fee, My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to speak If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive, Lo here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword; Which if thou please to hide in this true breast And let the soul forth that adoreth thee, I lay it naked to the deadly stroke, And humbly beg the death upon my knee 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 I do beseech you, either not believe The envious slanders of her false accusers; Or, if she be accus'd on true report, Bear with her weakness, which I think proceeds From wayward sickness and no grounded malice Ay, madam; he desires to make atonement Between the Duke of Gloucester and your brothers, And between them and my Lord Chamberlain; And sent to warn them to his royal presence She may help you to many fair preferments And then deny her aiding hand therein, And lay those honours on your high desert My Lord of Gloucester, I have too long borne Your blunt upbraidings and your bitter scoffs I had rather be a country servant-maid Than a great queen with this condition- To be so baited, scorn'd, and stormed at And less'ned be that small, God, I beseech Him! Thy honour, state, and seat, is due to me In all which time you and your husband Grey Were factious for the house of Lancaster; And, Rivers, so were you Was not your husband In Margaret's battle at Saint Albans slain? Let me put in your minds, if you forget, What you have been ere this, and what you are; Withal, what I have been, and what I am I would to God my heart were flint like Edward's, Or Edward's soft and pitiful like mine The curse my noble father laid on thee, When thou didst crown his warlike brows with paper And with thy scorns drew'st rivers from his eyes, And then to dry them gav'st the Duke a clout Steep'd in the faultless blood of pretty Rutland- His curses then from bitterness of soul Denounc'd against thee are all fall'n upon thee; And God, not we, hath plagu'd thy bloody deed To serve me well you all should do me duty, Teach me to be your queen and you my subjects O, that your young nobility could judge What 'twere to lose it and be miserable! They that stand high have many blasts to shake them, And if they fall they dash themselves to pieces 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 Have not to do with him, beware of him; Sin, death, and hell, have set their marks on him, And all their ministers attend on him And thus I clothe my naked villainy With odd old ends stol'n forth of holy writ, And seem a saint when most I play the devil O Lord, methought what pain it was to drown, What dreadful noise of waters in my ears, What sights of ugly death within my eyes! Methoughts I saw a thousand fearful wrecks, A thousand men that fishes gnaw'd upon, Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl, Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels, All scatt'red in the bottom of the sea; Some lay in dead men's skulls, and in the holes Where eyes did once inhabit there were crept, As 'twere in scorn of eyes, reflecting gems, That woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatt'red by The first that there did greet my stranger soul Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick, Who spake aloud 'What scourge for perjury Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence?' And so he vanish'd Ah, Keeper, Keeper, I have done these things That now give evidence against my soul For Edward's sake, and see how he requites me! O God! If my deep prayers cannot appease Thee, But Thou wilt be aveng'd on my misdeeds, Yet execute Thy wrath in me alone; O, spare my guiltless wife and my poor children! KEEPER, I prithee sit by me awhile; My soul is heavy, and I fain would sleep Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours, Makes the night morning and the noontide night 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 You scarcely have the hearts to tell me so, And therefore cannot have the hearts to do it I charge you, as you hope to have redemption By Christ's dear blood shed for our grievous sins, That you depart and lay no hands on me Well, I'll go hide the body in some hole, Till that the Duke give order for his burial; And when I have my meed, I will away; For this will out, and then I must not stay By heaven, my soul is purg'd from grudging hate; And with my hand I seal my true heart's love Now, princely Buckingham, seal thou this league With thy embracements to my wife's allies, And make me happy in your unity Have I a tongue to doom my brother's death, And shall that tongue give pardon to a slave? My brother killed no man-his fault was thought, And yet his punishment was bitter death But when your carters or your waiting-vassals Have done a drunken slaughter and defac'd The precious image of our dear Redeemer, You straight are on your knees for pardon, pardon; And I, unjustly too, must grant it you And when my uncle told me so, he wept, And pitied me, and kindly kiss'd my cheek; Bade me rely on him as on my father, And he would love me dearly as a child Ah, who shall hinder me to wail and weep, To chide my fortune, and torment myself? I'll join with black despair against my soul And to myself become an enemy Thou art a widow, yet thou art a mother And hast the comfort of thy children left; But death hath snatch'd my husband from mine arms And pluck'd two crutches from my feeble hands- Clarence and Edward 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 Drown desperate sorrow in dead Edward's grave, And plant your joys in living Edward's throne The broken rancour of your high-swol'n hearts, But lately splinter'd, knit, and join'd together, Must gently be preserv'd, cherish'd, and kept In him there is a hope of government, Which, in his nonage, council under him, And, in his full and ripened years, himself, No doubt, shall then, and till then, govern well O, full of danger is the Duke of Gloucester! And the Queen's sons and brothers haught and proud; And were they to be rul'd, and not to rule, This sickly land might solace as before great weeds do grow apace.' And since, methinks, I would not grow so fast, Because sweet flow'rs are slow and weeds make haste Ay me, I see the ruin of my house! The tiger now hath seiz'd the gentle hind; Insulting tyranny begins to jet Upon the innocent and aweless throne Fie, what an indirect and peevish course Is this of hers? Lord Cardinal, will your Grace Persuade the Queen to send the Duke of York Unto his princely brother presently? If she deny, Lord Hastings, go with him And from her jealous arms pluck him perforce 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 This Prince hath neither claim'd it nor deserv'd it, And therefore, in mine opinion, cannot have it If I may counsel you, some day or two Your Highness shall repose you at the Tower, Then where you please and shall be thought most fit For your best health and recreation Of my kind uncle, that I know will give, And being but a toy, which is no grief to give With what a sharp-provided wit he reasons! To mitigate the scorn he gives his uncle He prettily and aptly taunts himself My lord, will't please you pass along? Myself and my good cousin Buckingham Will to your mother, to entreat of her To meet you at the Tower and welcome you Besides, he says there are two councils kept, And that may be determin'd at the one Which may make you and him to rue at th' other To fly the boar before the boar pursues Were to incense the boar to follow us And make pursuit where he did mean no chase It is a reeling world indeed, my lord; And I believe will never stand upright Till Richard wear the garland of the realm 'Tis a vile thing to die, my gracious lord, When men are unprepar'd and look not for it O monstrous, monstrous! And so falls it out With Rivers, Vaughan, Grey; and so 'twill do With some men else that think themselves as safe As thou and I, who, as thou knowest, are dear To princely Richard and to Buckingham Then was I going prisoner to the Tower By the suggestion of the Queen's allies; But now, I tell thee-keep it to thyself- This day those enernies are put to death, And I in better state than e'er I was I am in your debt for your last exercise; Come the next Sabbath, and I will content you Now Margaret's curse is fall'n upon our heads, When she exclaim'd on Hastings, you, and I, For standing by when Richard stabb'd her son Than my Lord Hastings no man might be bolder; His lordship knows me well and loves me well [Takes him aside] Catesby hath sounded Hastings in our business, And finds the testy gentleman so hot That he will lose his head ere give consent His master's child, as worshipfully he terms it, Shall lose the royalty of England's throne O, now I need the priest that spake to me! I now repent I told the pursuivant, As too triumphing, how mine enemies To-day at Pomfret bloodily were butcher'd, And I myself secure in grace and favour Would you imagine, or almost believe- Were't not that by great preservation We live to tell it-that the subtle traitor This day had plotted, in the council-house, To murder me and my good Lord of Gloucester Yet had we not determin'd he should die Until your lordship came to see his end- Which now the loving haste of these our friends, Something against our meanings, have prevented- Because, my lord, I would have had you heard The traitor speak, and timorously confess The manner and the purpose of his treasons That you might well have signified the same Unto the citizens, who haply may Misconster us in him and wail his death Doubt not, my lord, I'll play the orator As if the golden fee for which I plead Were for myself; and so, my lord, adieu If you thrive well, bring them to Baynard's Castle; Where you shall find me well accompanied With reverend fathers and well learned bishops I did; with his contract with Lady Lucy, And his contract by deputy in France; Th' insatiate greediness of his desire, And his enforcement of the city wives; His tyranny for trifles; his own bastardy, As being got, your father then in France, And his resemblance, being not like the Duke Withal I did infer your lineaments, Being the right idea of your father, Both in your form and nobleness of mind; Laid open all your victories in Scotland, Your discipline in war, wisdom in peace, Your bounty, virtue, fair humility; Indeed, left nothing fitting for your purpose Untouch'd or slightly handled in discourse No, so God help me, they spake not a word; But, like dumb statues or breathing stones, Star'd each on other, and look'd deadly pale Which when I saw, I reprehended them, And ask'd the Mayor what meant this wilfull silence When he had done, some followers of mine own At lower end of the hall hurl'd up their caps, And some ten voices cried 'God save King Richard!' And thus I took the vantage of those few- 'Thanks, gentle citizens and friends,' quoth I 'This general applause and cheerful shout Argues your wisdoms and your love to Richard.' And even here brake off and came away Intend some fear; Be not you spoke with but by mighty suit; And look you get a prayer-book in your hand, And stand between two churchmen, good my lord; For on that ground I'll make a holy descant; And be not easily won to our requests Famous Plantagenet, most gracious Prince, Lend favourable ear to our requests, And pardon us the interruption Of thy devotion and right Christian zeal I do suspect I have done some offence That seems disgracious in the city's eye, And that you come to reprehend my ignorance Know then, it is your fault that you resign The supreme seat, the throne majestical, The scept'red office of your ancestors, Your state of fortune and your due of birth, The lineal glory of your royal house, To the corruption of a blemish'd stock; Whiles in the mildness of your sleepy thoughts, Which here we waken to our country's good, The noble isle doth want her proper limbs; Her face defac'd with scars of infamy, Her royal stock graft with ignoble plants, And almost should'red in the swallowing gulf Of dark forgetfulness and deep oblivion First, if all obstacles were cut away, And that my path were even to the crown, As the ripe revenue and due of birth, Yet so much is my poverty of spirit, So mighty and so many my defects, That I would rather hide me from my greatness- Being a bark to brook no mighty sea- Than in my greatness covet to be hid, And in the vapour of my glory smother'd But, God be thank'd, there is no need of me- And much I need to help you, were there need The royal tree hath left us royal fruit Which, mellow'd by the stealing hours of time, Will well become the seat of majesty And make, no doubt, us happy by his reign These both put off, a poor petitioner, A care-craz'd mother to a many sons, A beauty-waning and distressed widow, Even in the afternoon of her best days, Made prize and purchase of his wanton eye, Seduc'd the pitch and height of his degree To base declension and loath'd bigamy If you refuse it-as, in love and zeal, Loath to depose the child, your brother's son; As well we know your tenderness of heart And gentle, kind, effeminate remorse, Which we have noted in you to your kindred And egally indeed to all estates- Yet know, whe'er you accept our suit or no, Your brother's son shall never reign our king; But we will plant some other in the throne To the disgrace and downfall of your house; And in this resolution here we leave you I am not made of stones, But penetrable to your kind entreaties, Albeit against my conscience and my soul Then bring me to their sights; I'll bear thy blame, And take thy office from thee on my peril Let me but meet you, ladies, one hour hence, And I'll salute your Grace of York as mother And reverend looker-on of two fair queens If thou wilt outstrip death, go cross the seas, And live with Richmond, from the reach of hell Go, hie thee, hie thee from this slaughter-house, Lest thou increase the number of the dead, And make me die the thrall of Margaret's curse, Nor mother, wife, nor England's counted queen [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 Hath he so long held out with me, untir'd, And stops he now for breath? Well, be it so Inquire me out some mean poor gentleman, Whom I will marry straight to Clarence' daughter- The boy is foolish, and I fear not him Look how thou dream'st! I say again, give out That Anne, my queen, is sick and like to die Exit CATESBY I must be married to my brother's daughter, Or else my kingdom stands on brittle glass My lord, I claim the gift, my due by promise, For which your honour and your faith is pawn'd Because that like a Jack thou keep'st the stroke Betwixt thy begging and my meditation The tyrannous and bloody act is done, The most arch deed of piteous massacre That ever yet this land was guilty of Their lips were four red roses on a stalk, And in their summer beauty kiss'd each other The son of Clarence have I pent up close; His daughter meanly have I match'd in marriage; The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham's bosom, And Anne my wife hath bid this world good night Morton is fled to Richmond; And Buckingham, back'd with the hardy Welshmen, Is in the field, and still his power increaseth Come, I have learn'd that fearful commenting Is leaden servitor to dull delay; Delay leads impotent and snail-pac'd beggary A dire induction am I witness to, And will to France, hoping the consequence Will prove as bitter, black, and tragical Ah, my poor princes! ah, my tender babes! My unblown flowers, new-appearing sweets! If yet your gentle souls fly in the air And be not fix'd in doom perpetual, Hover about me with your airy wings And hear your mother's lamentation [Coming forward] If ancient sorrow be most reverend, Give mine the benefit of seniory, And let my griefs frown on the upper hand I had an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him; I had a husband, till a Richard kill'd him I had a Richard too, and thou didst kill him; I had a Rutland too, thou holp'st to kill him Richard yet lives, hell's black intelligencer; Only reserv'd their factor to buy souls And send them thither Where is thy husband now? Where be thy brothers? Where be thy two sons? Wherein dost thou joy? Who sues, and kneels, and says 'God save the Queen'? Where be the bending peers that flattered thee? Where be the thronging troops that followed thee? Decline an this, and see what now thou art For happy wife, a most distressed widow; For joyful mother, one that wails the name; For one being su'd to, one that humbly sues; For Queen, a very caitiff crown'd with care; For she that scorn'd at me, now scorn'd of me; For she being fear'd of all, now fearing one; For she commanding all, obey'd of none Thou didst usurp my place, and dost thou not Usurp the just proportion of my sorrow? Now thy proud neck bears half my burden'd yoke, From which even here I slip my weary head And leave the burden of it all on thee Forbear to sleep the nights, and fast the days; Compare dead happiness with living woe; Think that thy babes were sweeter than they were, And he that slew them fouler than he is Either thou wilt die by God's just ordinance Ere from this war thou turn a conqueror; Or I with grief and extreme age shall perish And never more behold thy face again Therefore take with thee my most grievous curse, Which in the day of battle tire thee more Than all the complete armour that thou wear'st! My prayers on the adverse party fight; And there the little souls of Edward's children Whisper the spirits of thine enemies And promise them success and victory For my daughters, Richard, They shall be praying nuns, not weeping queens; And therefore level not to hit their lives So from thy soul's love didst thou love her brothers, And from my heart's love I do thank thee for it I mean that with my soul I love thy daughter And do intend to make her Queen of England 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 There is no other way; Unless thou couldst put on some other shape And not be Richard that hath done all this The loss you have is but a son being King, And by that loss your daughter is made Queen Dorset your son, that with a fearful soul Leads discontented steps in foreign soil, This fair alliance quickly shall can home To high promotions and great dignity And when this arm of mine hath chastised The petty rebel, dull-brain'd Buckingham, Bound with triumphant garlands will I come, And lead thy daughter to a conqueror's bed; To whom I will retail my conquest won, And she shall be sole victoress, Caesar's Caesar O, no, my reasons are too deep and dead- Too deep and dead, poor infants, in their graves In her consists my happiness and thine; Without her, follows to myself and thee, Herself, the land, and many a Christian soul, Death, desolation, ruin, and decay Most mighty sovereign, on the western coast Rideth a puissant navy; to our shores Throng many doubtful hollow-hearted friends, Unarm'd, and unresolv'd to beat them back Bid him levy straight The greatest strength and power that he can make And meet me suddenly at Salisbury Stirr'd up by Dorset, Buckingham, and Morton, He makes for England here to claim the crown Pleaseth your Majesty to give me leave, I'll muster up my friends and meet your Grace Where and what time your Majesty shall please In Kent, my liege, the Guilfords are in arms; And every hour more competitors Flock to the rebels, and their power grows strong This is the day which in King Edward's time I wish'd might fall on me when I was found False to his children and his wife's allies; This is the day wherein I wish'd to fall By the false faith of him whom most I trusted; This, this All-Souls' day to my fearful soul Is the determin'd respite of my wrongs; That high All-Seer which I dallied with Hath turn'd my feigned prayer on my head And given in earnest what I begg'd in jest 'When he' quoth she 'shall split thy heart with sorrow, Remember Margaret was a prophetess.' Come lead me, officers, to the block of shame; Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of blame Fellows in arms, and my most loving friends, Bruis'd underneath the yoke of tyranny, Thus far into the bowels of the land Have we march'd on without impediment; And here receive we from our father Stanley Lines of fair comfort and encouragement True hope is swift and flies with swallow's wings; Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings Exeunt Enter, on the other side of the field, RICHMOND, SIR WILLIAM BRANDON, OXFORD, DORSET, and others I'll draw the form and model of our battle, Limit each leader to his several charge, And part in just proportion our small power My Lord of Oxford-you, Sir William Brandon- And you, Sir Walter Herbert-stay with me If without peril it be possible, Sweet Blunt, make some good means to speak with him And give him from me this most needful note In brief, for so the season bids us be, Prepare thy battle early in the morning, And put thy fortune to the arbitrement Of bloody strokes and mortal-staring war [To RICHARD] Let me sit heavy in thy soul to-morrow! I that was wash'd to death with fulsome wine, Poor Clarence, by thy guile betray'd to death! To-morrow in the battle think on me, And fall thy edgeless sword Let us be lead within thy bosom, Richard, And weigh thee down to ruin, shame, and death! Thy nephews' souls bid thee despair and die [To RICHMOND] Thou quiet soul, sleep thou a quiet sleep; Dream of success and happy victory O, in the battle think on Buckingham, And die in terror of thy guiltiness! Dream on, dream on of bloody deeds and death; Fainting, despair; despairing, yield thy breath! [To RICHMOND] I died for hope ere I could lend thee aid; But cheer thy heart and be thou not dismay'd God and good angels fight on Richmond's side; And Richard falls in height of all his pride My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, And every tongue brings in a several tale, And every tale condemns me for a villain The early village-cock Hath twice done salutation to the morn; Your friends are up and buckle on their armour KING RICHARD By the apostle Paul, shadows to-night Have stuck more terror to the soul of Richard Than can the substance of ten thousand soldiers Armed in proof and led by shallow Richmond Methought their souls whose bodies Richard murder'd Came to my tent and cried on victory Then, in the name of God and all these rights, Advance your standards, draw your willing swords He smil'd, and said 'The better for our purpose.' KING He was in the right; and so indeed it is John Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Earl of Surrey, Shall have the leading of this foot and horse March on, join bravely, let us to it pell-mell; If not to heaven, then hand in hand to hell His ORATION to his ARMY What shall I say more than I have inferr'd? Remember whom you are to cope withal- A sort of vagabonds, rascals, and runaways, A scum of Britaines, and base lackey peasants, Whom their o'er-cloyed country vomits forth To desperate adventures and assur'd destruction If we be conquered, let men conquer us, And not these bastard Britaines, whom our fathers Have in their own land beaten, bobb'd, and thump'd, And, in record, left them the heirs of shame John Duke of Norfolk, Walter Lord Ferrers, Sir Robert Brakenbury, and Sir William Brandon Two households, both alike in dignity, In fair Verona, where we lay our scene, From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean What, drawn, and talk of peace? I hate the word As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee Down with the Capulets! Down with the Montagues! Enter Old Capulet in his gown, and his Wife Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace, Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel- Will they not hear? What, ho! you men, you beasts, That quench the fire of your pernicious rage With purple fountains issuing from your veins! On pain of torture, from those bloody hands Throw your mistempered weapons to the ground And hear the sentence of your moved prince I- measuring his affections by my own, Which then most sought where most might not be found, Being one too many by my weary self- Pursu'd my humour, not Pursuing his, And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me Many a morning hath he there been seen, With tears augmenting the fresh morning's dew, Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs; But all so soon as the all-cheering sun Should in the farthest East bean to draw The shady curtains from Aurora's bed, Away from light steals home my heavy son And private in his chamber pens himself, Shuts up his windows, locks fair daylight And makes himself an artificial night Come, madam, let's away, Exeunt [Montague and Wife] Hear all, all see, And like her most whose merit most shall be; Which, on more view of many, mine, being one, May stand in number, though in reck'ning none [To Servant, giving him a paper] Go, sirrah, trudge about Through fair Verona; find those persons out Whose names are written there, and to them say, My house and welcome on their pleasure stay- Exeunt [Capulet and Paris] Not mad, but bound more than a madman is; Shut up in Prison, kept without my food, Whipp'd and tormented and- God-den, good fellow My master is the great rich Capulet; and if you be not of the house of Montagues, I pray come and crush a cup of wine Go thither, and with unattainted eye Compare her face with some that I shall show, And I will make thee think thy swan a crow Tut! you saw her fair, none else being by, Herself pois'd with herself in either eye; But in that crystal scales let there be weigh'd Your lady's love against some other maid That I will show you shining at this feast, And she shall scant show well that now seems best Yet I cannot choose but laugh To think it should leave crying and say 'Ay.' And yet, I warrant, it bad upon it brow A bump as big as a young cock'rel's stone; A perilous knock; and it cried bitterly We'll have no Cupid hoodwink'd with a scarf, Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath, Scaring the ladies like a crowkeeper; Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke After the prompter, for our entrance; But, let them measure us by what they will, We'll measure them a measure, and be gone Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, Too rude, too boist'rous, and it pricks like thorn A torch for me! Let wantons light of heart Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels; For I am proverb'd with a grandsire phrase, I'll be a candle-holder and look on; The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done Sometimes she driveth o'er a soldier's neck, And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats, Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades, Of healths five fadom deep; and then anon Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes, And being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two And sleeps again When good manners shall lie all in one or two men's hands, and they unwash'd too, 'tis a foul thing Good thou, save me a piece of marchpane and, as thou loves me, let the porter let in Susan Grindstone and Nell Enter the Maskers, Enter, [with Servants,] Capulet, his Wife, Juliet, Tybalt, and all the Guests and Gentlewomen to the Maskers More light, you knaves! and turn the tables up, And quench the fire, the room is grown too hot What, man? 'Tis not so much, 'tis not so much! 'Tis since the nuptial of Lucentio, Come Pentecost as quickly as it will, Some five-and-twenty years, and then we mask'd The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand And, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand 'A bears him like a portly gentleman, And, to say truth, Verona brags of him To be a virtuous and well-govern'd youth Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, Which mannerly devotion shows in this; For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss Now Romeo is belov'd, and loves again, Alike bewitched by the charm of looks; But to his foe suppos'd he must complain, And she steal love's sweet bait from fearful hooks Can I go forward when my heart is here? Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out Romeo! humours! madman! passion! lover! Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh; Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied! Cry but 'Ay me!' pronounce but 'love' and 'dove'; Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word, One nickname for her purblind son and heir, Young Adam Cupid, he that shot so trim When King Cophetua lov'd the beggar maid! He heareth not, he stirreth not, be moveth not; The ape is dead, and I must conjure him 'Twould anger him To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle Of some strange nature, letting it there stand Till she had laid it and conjur'd it down What if her eyes were there, they in her head? The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven Would through the airy region stream so bright That birds would sing and think it were not night O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art As glorious to this night, being o'er my head, As is a winged messenger of heaven Unto the white-upturned wond'ring eyes Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds And sails upon the bosom of the air O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name! Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I'll no longer be a Capulet With love's light wings did I o'erperch these walls; For stony limits cannot hold love out, And what love can do, that dares love attempt Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye Than twenty of their swords! Look thou but sweet, And I am proof against their enmity I have night's cloak to hide me from their sight; And but thou love me, let them find me here I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far As that vast shore wash'd with the farthest sea, I would adventure for such merchandise Fain would I dwell on form- fain, fain deny What I have spoke; but farewell compliment! Dost thou love me, I know thou wilt say 'Ay'; And I will take thy word Do not swear at all; Or if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, Which is the god of my idolatry, And I'll believe thee I gave thee mine before thou didst request it; And yet I would it were to give again If that thy bent of love be honourable, Thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow, By one that I'll procure to come to thee, Where and what time thou wilt perform the rite; And all my fortunes at thy foot I'll lay And follow thee my lord throughout the world Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast! Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest! Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell, His help to crave and my dear hap to tell The grey-ey'd morn smiles on the frowning night, Check'ring the Eastern clouds with streaks of light; And flecked darkness like a drunkard reels From forth day's path and Titan's fiery wheels 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 What is her burying gave, that is her womb; And from her womb children of divers kind We sucking on her natural bosom find; Many for many virtues excellent, None but for some, and yet all different If e'er thou wast thyself, and these woes thine, Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline He fights as you sing pricksong-keeps time, distance, and proportion; rests me his minim rest, one, two, and the third in your bosom! the very butcher of a silk button, a duellist, a duellist! a gentleman of the very first house, of the first and second cause I stretch it out for that word 'broad,' which, added to the goose, proves thee far and wide a broad goose No hare, sir; unless a hare, sir, in a lenten pie, that is something stale and hoar ere it be spent He walks by them and sings A gentleman, nurse, that loves to hear himself talk and will speak more in a minute than he will stand to in a month What she bid me say, I will keep to myself; but first let me tell ye, if ye should lead her into a fool's paradise, as they say, it were a very gross kind of behaviour, as they say; for the gentlewoman is young; and therefore, if you should deal double with her, truly it were an ill thing to be off'red to any gentlewoman, and very weak dealing Bid her devise Some means to come to shrift this afternoon; And there she shall at Friar Laurence' cell Be shriv'd and married Therefore do nimble-pinion'd doves draw Love, And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings Had she affections and warm youthful blood, She would be as swift in motion as a ball; My words would bandy her to my sweet love, And his to me, But old folks, many feign as they were dead- Unwieldy, slow, heavy and pale as lead The sweetest honey Is loathsome in his own deliciousness And in the taste confounds the appetite A lover may bestride the gossamer That idles in the wanton summer air, And yet not fall; so light is vanity An I were so apt to quarrel as thou art, any man should buy the fee simple of my life for an hour and a quarter And but one word with one of us? Couple it with something; make it a word and a blow Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries That thou hast done me; therefore turn and draw Gentlemen, for shame! forbear this outrage! Tybalt, Mercutio, the Prince expressly hath Forbid this bandying in Verona streets Enter Prince [attended], Old Montague, Capulet, their Wives, and [others] Romeo he cries aloud, 'Hold, friends! friends, part!' and swifter than his tongue, His agile arm beats down their fatal points, And 'twixt them rushes; underneath whose arm An envious thrust from Tybalt hit the life Of stout Mercutio, and then Tybalt fled; But by-and-by comes back to Romeo, Who had but newly entertain'd revenge, And to't they go like lightning; for, ere I Could draw to part them, was stout Tybalt slain; And, as he fell, did Romeo turn and fly Some twenty of them fought in this black strife, And all those twenty could but kill one life Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds, Towards Phoebus' lodging! Such a wagoner As Phaeton would whip you to the West And bring in cloudy night immediately Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night, That runaway eyes may wink, and Romeo Leap to these arms untalk'd of and unseen Come, gentle night; come, loving, black-brow'd night; Give me my Romeo; and, when he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night And pay no worship to the garish sun So tedious is this day As is the night before some festival To an impatient child that hath new robes And may not wear them Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband? Ah, poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name When I, thy three-hours wife, have mangled it? But wherefore, villain, didst thou kill my cousin? That villain cousin would have kill'd my husband My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain; And Tybalt's dead, that would have slain my husband I would forget it fain; But O, it presses to my memory Like damned guilty deeds to sinners' minds! 'Tybalt is dead, and Romeo- banished.' That 'banished,' that one word 'banished,' Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts O, find him! give this ring to my true knight And bid him come to take his last farewell Calling death 'banishment,' Thou cut'st my head off with a golden axe And smilest upon the stroke that murders me O deadly sin! O rude unthankfulness! Thy fault our law calls death; but the kind Prince, Taking thy part, hath rush'd aside the law, And turn'd that black word death to banishment Hark, how they knock! Who's there? Romeo, arise; Thou wilt be taken.- Stay awhile!- Stand up; Knock O, she says nothing, sir, but weeps and weeps; And now falls on her bed, and then starts up, And Tybalt calls; and then on Romeo cries, And then down falls again 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 A pack of blessings light upon thy back; Happiness courts thee in her best array; But, like a misbhav'd and sullen wench, Thou pout'st upon thy fortune and thy love Farewell, My lord.- Light to my chamber, ho! Afore me, It is so very very late That we may call it early by-and-by Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops It is some meteor that the sun exhales To be to thee this night a torchbearer And light thee on the way to Mantua It is, it is! Hie hence, be gone, away! It is the lark that sings so out of tune, Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps Some say the lark and loathed toad chang'd eyes; O, now I would they had chang'd voices too, Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray, Hunting thee hence with hunt's-up to the day! O, now be gone! More light and light it grows [aside] Villain and he be many miles asunder.- God pardon him! I do, with all my heart; And yet no man like he doth grieve my heart I'll send to one in Mantua, Where that same banish'd runagate doth live, Shall give him such an unaccustom'd dram That he shall soon keep Tybalt company; And then I hope thou wilt be satisfied Now by Saint Peter's Church, and Peter too, He shall not make me there a joyful bride! I wonder at this haste, that I must wed Ere he that should be husband comes to woo Wife, we scarce thought us blest That God had lent us but this only child; But now I see this one is one too much, And that we have a curse in having her O God!- O nurse, how shall this be prevented? My husband is on earth, my faith in heaven Beshrew my very heart, I think you are happy in this second match, For it excels your first; or if it did not, Your first is dead- or 'twere as good he were As living here and you no use of him Go in; and tell my lady I am gone, Having displeas'd my father, to Laurence' cell, To make confession and to be absolv'd Ancient damnation! O most wicked fiend! Is it more sin to wish me thus forsworn, Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue Which she hath prais'd him with above compare So many thousand times? Go, counsellor! Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twain 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 If, rather than to marry County Paris Thou hast the strength of will to slay thyself, Then is it likely thou wilt undertake A thing like death to chide away this shame, That cop'st with death himself to scape from it; And, if thou dar'st, I'll give thee remedy Take thou this vial, being then in bed, And this distilled liquor drink thou off; When presently through all thy veins shall run A cold and drowsy humour; for no pulse Shall keep his native progress, but surcease; No warmth, no breath, shall testify thou livest; The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade To paly ashes, thy eyes' windows fall Like death when he shuts up the day of life; Each part, depriv'd of supple government, Shall, stiff and stark and cold, appear like death; And in this borrowed likeness of shrunk death Thou shalt continue two-and-forty hours, And then awake as from a pleasant sleep Ay, those attires are best; but, gentle nurse, I pray thee leave me to myself to-night; For I have need of many orisons To move the heavens to smile upon my state, Which, well thou knowest, is cross and full of sin A jealous hood, a jealous hood! Enter three or four [Fellows, with spits and logs and baskets Out alas! she's cold, Her blood is settled, and her joints are stiff; Life and these lips have long been separated Death, that hath ta'en her hence to make me wail, Ties up my tongue and will not let me speak Heaven and yourself Had part in this fair maid! now heaven hath all, And all the better is it for the maid All things that we ordained festival Turn from their office to black funeral- Our instruments to melancholy bells, Our wedding cheer to a sad burial feast; Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change; Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse; And all things change them to the contrary Then have at you with my wit! I will dry-beat you with an iron wit, and put up my iron dagger If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep My dreams presage some joyful news at hand I dreamt my lady came and found me dead (Strange dream that gives a dead man leave to think!) And breath'd such life with kisses in my lips That I reviv'd and was an emperor Noting this penury, to myself I said, 'An if a man did need a poison now Whose sale is present death in Mantua, Here lives a caitiff wretch would sell it him.' O, this same thought did but forerun my need, And this same needy man must sell it me Art thou so bare and full of wretchedness And fearest to die? Famine is in thy cheeks, Need and oppression starveth in thine eyes, Contempt and beggary hangs upon thy back The world is not thy friend, nor the world's law; The world affords no law to make thee rich; Then be not poor, but break it and take this [Retires.] Enter Romeo, and Balthasar with a torch, a mattock, and a crow of iron Upon thy life I charge thee, Whate'er thou hearest or seest, stand all aloof And do not interrupt me in my course 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 Beauty's ensign yet Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks, And death's pale flag is not advanced there As I did sleep under this yew tree here, I dreamt my master and another fought, And that my master slew him O comfortable friar! where is my lord? I do remember well where I should be, And there I am O happy dagger! [Snatches Romeo's dagger.] This is thy sheath; there rest, and let me die What misadventure is so early up, That calls our person from our morning rest? Enter Capulet and his Wife [with others] Sovereign, here lies the County Paris slain; And Romeo dead; and Juliet, dead before, Warm and new kill'd Seal up the mouth of outrage for a while, Till we can clear these ambiguities And know their spring, their head, their true descent; And then will I be general of your woes And lead you even to death I am the greatest, able to do least, Yet most suspected, as the time and place Doth make against me, of this direful murther; And here I stand, both to impeach and purge Myself condemned and myself excus'd Romeo, there dead, was husband to that Juliet; And she, there dead, that Romeo's faithful wife I married them; and their stol'n marriage day Was Tybalt's doomsday, whose untimely death Banish'd the new-made bridegroom from this city; For whom, and not for Tybalt, Juliet pin'd But when I came, some minute ere the time Of her awaking, here untimely lay The noble Paris and true Romeo dead This letter he early bid me give his father, And threat'ned me with death, going in the vault, If I departed not and left him there Anon comes one with light to ope the tomb; And by-and-by my master drew on him; And then I ran away to call the watch 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 But I can give thee more; For I will raise her Statue in pure gold, That whiles Verona by that name is known, There shall no figure at such rate be set As that of true and faithful Juliet Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things; Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished; For never was a story of more woe Than this of Juliet and her Romeo 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 I have forgot your name; but, sure, that part Was aptly fitted and naturally perform'd Exit one with the PLAYERS Sirrah, go you to Bartholomew my page, And see him dress'd in all suits like a lady; That done, conduct him to the drunkard's chamber, And call him 'madam,' do him obeisance Tell him from me- as he will win my love- He bear himself with honourable action, Such as he hath observ'd in noble ladies Unto their lords, by them accomplished; Such duty to the drunkard let him do, With soft low tongue and lowly courtesy, And say 'What is't your honour will command, Wherein your lady and your humble wife May show her duty and make known her love?' And then with kind embracements, tempting kisses, And with declining head into his bosom, Bid him shed tears, as being overjoyed To see her noble lord restor'd to health, Who for this seven years hath esteemed him No better than a poor and loathsome beggar O noble lord, bethink thee of thy birth! Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment, And banish hence these abject lowly dreams Wilt thou have music? Hark! Apollo plays, [Music] And twenty caged nightingales do sing Or wilt thou ride? Thy horses shall be trapp'd, Their harness studded all with gold and pearl Or wilt thou hunt? Thy hounds shall make the welkin answer them And fetch shall echoes from the hollow earth Or Daphne roaming through a thorny wood, Scratching her legs, that one shall swear she bleeds And at that sight shall sad Apollo weep, So workmanly the blood and tears are drawn And, till the tears that she hath shed for thee Like envious floods o'er-run her lovely face, She was the fairest creature in the world; And yet she is inferior to none O, yes, my lord, but very idle words; For though you lay here in this goodly chamber, Yet would you say ye were beaten out of door; And rail upon the hostess of the house, And say you would present her at the leet, Because she brought stone jugs and no seal'd quarts Your honour's players, hearing your amendment, Are come to play a pleasant comedy; For so your doctors hold it very meet, Seeing too much sadness hath congeal'd your blood, And melancholy is the nurse of frenzy Therefore they thought it good you hear a play And frame your mind to mirth and merriment, Which bars a thousand harms and lengthens life Tranio, since for the great desire I had To see fair Padua, nursery of arts, I am arriv'd for fruitful Lombardy, The pleasant garden of great Italy, And by my father's love and leave am arm'd With his good will and thy good company, My trusty servant well approv'd in all, Here let us breathe, and haply institute A course of learning and ingenious studies 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 Gentlemen, importune me no farther, For how I firmly am resolv'd you know; That is, not to bestow my youngest daughter Before I have a husband for the elder I' faith, sir, you shall never need to fear; Iwis it is not halfway to her heart; But if it were, doubt not her care should be To comb your noddle with a three-legg'd stool, And paint your face, and use you like a fool Sir, to your pleasure humbly I subscribe; My books and instruments shall be my company, On them to look, and practise by myself If you, Hortensio, Or, Signior Gremio, you, know any such, Prefer them hither; for to cunning men I will be very kind, and liberal To mine own children in good bringing-up; And so, farewell Though the nature of our quarrel yet never brook'd parle, know now, upon advice, it toucheth us both- that we may yet again have access to our fair mistress, and be happy rivals in Bianca's love- to labour and effect one thing specially Tush, Gremio! Though it pass your patience and mine to endure her loud alarums, why, man, there be good fellows in the world, an a man could light on them, would take her with all faults, and money enough But, come; since this bar in law makes us friends, it shall be so far forth friendly maintain'd till by helping Baptista's eldest daughter to a husband we set his youngest free for a husband, and then have to't afresh I am agreed; and would I had given him the best horse in Padua to begin his wooing that would thoroughly woo her, wed her, and bed her, and rid the house of her! Come on 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 Tranio, I saw her coral lips to move, And with her breath she did perfume the air; Sacred and sweet was all I saw in her Sirrah, come hither; 'tis no time to jest, And therefore frame your manners to the time Your fellow Tranio here, to save my life, Puts my apparel and my count'nance on, And I for my escape have put on his; For in a quarrel since I came ashore I kill'd a man, and fear I was descried Verona, for a while I take my leave, To see my friends in Padua; but of all My best beloved and approved friend, Hortensio; and I trow this is his house Villain, I say, knock me at this gate, And rap me well, or I'll knock your knave's pate Will it not be? Faith, sirrah, an you'll not knock I'll ring it; I'll try how you can sol-fa, and sing it A senseless villain! Good Hortensio, I bade the rascal knock upon your gate, And could not get him for my heart to do it Antonio, my father, is deceas'd, And I have thrust myself into this maze, Haply to wive and thrive as best I may; Crowns in my purse I have, and goods at home, And so am come abroad to see the world Petruchio, shall I then come roundly to thee And wish thee to a shrewd ill-favour'd wife? Thou'dst thank me but a little for my counsel, And yet I'll promise thee she shall be rich, And very rich; but th'art too much my friend, And I'll not wish thee to her Why, give him gold enough and marry him to a puppet or an aglet-baby, or an old trot with ne'er a tooth in her head, though she has as many diseases as two and fifty horses Therefore this order hath Baptista ta'en, That none shall have access unto Bianca Till Katherine the curst have got a husband Now shall my friend Petruchio do me grace, And offer me disguis'd in sober robes To old Baptista as a schoolmaster Well seen in music, to instruct Bianca; That so I may by this device at least Have leave and leisure to make love to her, And unsuspected court her by herself Hark you, sir; I'll have them very fairly bound- All books of love, see that at any hand; And see you read no other lectures to her I promis'd to enquire carefully About a schoolmaster for the fair Bianca; And by good fortune I have lighted well On this young man; for learning and behaviour Fit for her turn, well read in poetry And other books- good ones, I warrant ye Here is a gentleman whom by chance I met, Upon agreement from us to his liking, Will undertake to woo curst Katherine; Yea, and to marry her, if her dowry please Baptista is a noble gentleman, To whom my father is not all unknown, And, were his daughter fairer than she is, She may more suitors have, and me for one Fair Leda's daughter had a thousand wooers; Then well one more may fair Bianca have; And so she shall Sir, I shall not be slack; in sign whereof, Please ye we may contrive this afternoon, And quaff carouses to our mistress' health; And do as adversaries do in law- Strive mightily, but eat and drink as friends Why, how now, dame! Whence grows this insolence? Bianca, stand aside- poor girl! she weeps What, will you not suffer me? Nay, now I see She is your treasure, she must have a husband; I must dance bare-foot on her wedding-day, And for your love to her lead apes in hell To express the like kindness, myself, that have been more kindly beholding to you than any, freely give unto you this young scholar [Presenting LUCENTIO] that hath been long studying at Rheims; as cunning in Greek, Latin, and other languages, as the other in music and mathematics Pardon me, sir, the boldness is mine own That, being a stranger in this city here, Do make myself a suitor to your daughter, Unto Bianca, fair and virtuous This liberty is all that I request- That, upon knowledge of my parentage, I may have welcome 'mongst the rest that woo, And free access and favour as the rest And toward the education of your daughters I here bestow a simple instrument, And this small packet of Greek and Latin books Exit SERVANT leading HORTENSIO carrying the lute and LUCENTIO with the books We will go walk a little in the orchard, And then to dinner And for that dowry, I'll assure her of Her widowhood, be it that she survive me, In all my lands and leases whatsoever Let specialities be therefore drawn between us, That covenants may be kept on either hand Though little fire grows great with little wind, Yet extreme gusts will blow out fire and all Well, go with me, and be not so discomfited; Proceed in practice with my younger daughter; She's apt to learn, and thankful for good turns Exeunt all but PETRUCHIO I'll attend her here, And woo her with some spirit when she comes Say she be mute, and will not speak a word; Then I'll commend her volubility, And say she uttereth piercing eloquence If she do bid me pack, I'll give her thanks, As though she bid me stay by her a week; If she deny to wed, I'll crave the day When I shall ask the banns, and when be married Thou canst not frown, thou canst not look askance, Nor bite the lip, as angry wenches will, Nor hast thou pleasure to be cross in talk; But thou with mildness entertain'st thy wooers; With gentle conference, soft and affable Why does the world report that Kate doth limp? O sland'rous world! Kate like the hazel-twig Is straight and slender, and as brown in hue As hazel-nuts, and sweeter than the kernels your father hath consented That you shall be my wife your dowry greed on; And will you, nill you, I will marry you If she be curst, it is for policy, For,she's not froward, but modest as the dove; She is not hot, but temperate as the morn; For patience she will prove a second Grissel, And Roman Lucrece for her chastity I will to Venice; Sunday comes apace; We will have rings and things, and fine array; And kiss me, Kate; we will be married a Sunday Then at my farm I have a hundred milch-kine to the pail, Six score fat oxen standing in my stalls, And all things answerable to this portion I am my father's heir and only son; If I may have your daughter to my wife, I'll leave her houses three or four as good Within rich Pisa's walls as any one Old Signior Gremio has in Padua; Besides two thousand ducats by the year Of fruitful land, all which shall be her jointure Gremio, 'tis known my father hath no less Than three great argosies, besides two galliasses, And twelve tight galleys Nay, I have off'red all; I have no more; And she can have no more than all I have; If you like me, she shall have me and mine Preposterous ass, that never read so far To know the cause why music was ordain'd! Was it not to refresh the mind of man After his studies or his usual pain? Then give me leave to read philosophy, And while I pause serve in your harmony Madam, before you touch the instrument To learn the order of my fingering, I must begin with rudiments of art, To teach you gamut in a briefer sort, More pleasant, pithy, and effectual, Than hath been taught by any of my trade; And there it is in writing fairly drawn Mistress, your father prays you leave your books And help to dress your sister's chamber up [To TRANIO] Signior Lucentio, this is the 'pointed day That Katherine and Petruchio should be married, And yet we hear not of our son-in-law No shame but mine; I must, forsooth, be forc'd To give my hand, oppos'd against my heart, Unto a mad-brain rudesby, full of spleen, Who woo'd in haste and means to wed at leisure Nay, by Saint Jamy, I hold you a penny, A horse and a man Is more than one, And yet not many Could I repair what she will wear in me As I can change these poor accoutrements, 'Twere well for Kate and better for myself A bridegroom, say you? 'Tis a groom indeed, A grumbling groom, and that the girl shall find when the priest Should ask if Katherine should be his wife, 'Ay, by gogs-wouns' quoth he, and swore so loud That, all amaz'd, the priest let fall the book; And as he stoop'd again to take it up, This mad-brain'd bridegroom took him such a cuff That down fell priest and book, and book and priest 'A health!' quoth he, as if He had been abroad, carousing to his mates After a storm; quaff'd off the muscadel, And threw the sops all in the sexton's face, Having no other reason But that his beard grew thin and hungerly And seem'd to ask him sops as he was drinking And I, seeing this, came thence for very shame; And after me, I know, the rout is coming I know you think to dine with me to-day, And have prepar'd great store of wedding cheer But so it is- my haste doth call me hence, And therefore here I mean to take my leave And, honest company, I thank you all That have beheld me give away myself To this most patient, sweet, and virtuous wife Obey the bride, you that attend on her; Go to the feast, revel and domineer, Carouse full measure to her maidenhead; Be mad and merry, or go hang yourselves Lucentio, you shall supply the bridegroom's place; And let Bianca take her sister's room She was, good Curtis, before this frost; but thou know'st winter tames man, woman, and beast; for it hath tam'd my old master, and my new mistress, and myself, fellow Curtis And therefore 'tis call'd a sensible tale; and this cuff was but to knock at your car and beseech list'ning But what talk I of this? Call forth Nathaniel, Joseph, Nicholas, Philip, Walter, Sugarsop, and the rest; let their heads be sleekly comb'd, their blue coats brush'd and their garters of an indifferent knit; let them curtsy with their left legs, and not presume to touch a hair of my mastcr's horse-tail till they kiss their hands Exeunt some of the SERVINGMEN [Sings] Where is the life that late I led? Where are those- Sit down, Kate, and welcome Off with my boots, you rogues! you villains, when? [Sings] It was the friar of orders grey, As he forth walked on his way- Out, you rogue! you pluck my foot awry; Take that, and mend the plucking off the other Some water, here, what, ho! Enter one with water Where's my spaniel Troilus? Sirrah, get you hence, And bid my cousin Ferdinand come hither Where are my slippers? Shall I have some water? Come, Kate, and wash, and welcome heartily Making a sermon of continency to her, And rails, and swears, and rates, that she, poor soul, Knows not which way to stand, to look, to speak Another way I have to man my haggard, To make her come, and know her keeper's call, That is, to watch her, as we watch these kites That bate and beat, and will not be obedient She 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 This is a way to kill a wife with kindness, And thus I'll curb her mad and headstrong humour Is 't possible, friend Licio, that Mistress Bianca Doth fancy any other but Lucentio? I tell you, sir, she bears me fair in hand Nor a musician as I seem to be; But one that scorn to live in this disguise For such a one as leaves a gentleman And makes a god of such a cullion Signior Hortensio, I have often heard Of your entire affection to Bianca; And since mine eyes are witness of her lightness, I will with you, if you be so contented, Forswear Bianca and her love for ever 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 Ay, mistress; and Petruchio is the master, That teacheth tricks eleven and twenty long, To tame a shrew and charm her chattering tongue Master, a mercatante or a pedant, I know not what; but formal in apparel, In gait and countenance surely like a father Sir, at the farthest for a week or two; But then up farther, and as far as Rome; And so to Tripoli, if God lend me life Know you not the cause? Your ships are stay'd at Venice; and the Duke, For private quarrel 'twixt your Duke and him, Hath publish'd and proclaim'd it openly Alas, sir, it is worse for me than so! For I have bills for money by exchange From Florence, and must here deliver them My father is here look'd for every day To pass assurance of a dow'r in marriage 'Twixt me and one Baptista's daughter here What, not a word? Nay, then thou lov'st it not, And all my pains is sorted to no proof The poorest service is repaid with thanks; And so shall mine, before you touch the 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 [Aside] Hortensio, say thou wilt see the tailor paid.- Go take it hence; be gone, and say no more What, is the jay more precious than the lark Because his feathers are more beautiful? Or is the adder better than the eel Because his painted skin contents the eye? O no, good Kate; neither art thou the worse For this poor furniture and mean array If thou account'st it shame, lay it on me; And therefore frolic; we will hence forthwith To feast and sport us at thy father's house Go call my men, and let us straight to him; And bring our horses unto Long-lane end; There will we mount, and thither walk on foot Let's see; I think 'tis now some seven o'clock, And well we may come there by dinner-time I told him that your father was at Venice, And that you look'd for him this day in Padua Not in my house, Lucentio, for you know Pitchers have ears, and I have many servants; Besides, old Gremio is heark'ning still, And happily we might be interrupted There doth my father lie; and there this night We'll pass the business privately and well The worst is this, that at so slender warning You are like to have a thin and slender pittance Cambio, hie you home, And bid Bianca make her ready straight; And, if you will, tell what hath happened- Lucentio's father is arriv'd in Padua, And how she's like to be Lucentio's wife Faith, nothing; but has left me here behind to expound the meaning or moral of his signs and tokens If this be not that you look for, I have more to say, But bid Bianca farewell for ever and a day I knew a wench married in an afternoon as she went to the garden for parsley to stuff a rabbit; and so may you, sir; and so adieu, sir Then, God be bless'd, it is the blessed sun; But sun it is not, when you say it is not; And the moon changes even as your mind Why, how now, Kate, I hope thou art not mad! This is a man, old, wrinkled, faded, withered, And not a maiden, as thou sayst he is Sir, here's the door; this is Lucentio's house; My father's bears more toward the market-place; Thither must I, and here I leave you, sir You shall not choose but drink before you go; I think I shall command your welcome here, And by all likelihood some cheer is toward God send 'em good shipping! But who is here? Mine old master, Vicentio! Now we are undone and brought to nothing His name! As if I knew not his name! I have brought him up ever since he was three years old, and his name is Tranio Away, away, mad ass! His name is Lucentio; and he is mine only son, and heir to the lands of me, Signior Vicentio LUCENTIO'S house Enter BAPTISTA, VINCENTIO, GREMIO, the PEDANT, LUCENTIO, BIANCA, PETRUCHIO, KATHERINA, HORTENSIO, and WIDOW At last, though long, our jarring notes agree; And time it is when raging war is done To smile at scapes and perils overblown Brother Petruchio, sister Katherina, And thou, Hortensio, with thy loving widow, Feast with the best, and welcome to my house Your husband, being troubled with a shrew, Measures my husband's sorrow by his woe; And now you know my meaning Here, Signior Tranio, This bird you aim'd at, though you hit her not; Therefore a health to all that shot and miss'd O, sir, Lucentio slipp'd me like his greyhound, Which runs himself, and catches for his master Worse and worse; she will not come! O vile, Intolerable, not to be endur'd! Sirrah Grumio, go to your mistress; Say I command her come to me Marry, peace it bodes, and love, and quiet life, An awful rule, and right supremacy; And, to be short, what not that's sweet and happy Nay, I will win my wager better yet, And show more sign of her obedience, Her new-built virtue and obedience Katherine, I charge thee, tell these headstrong women What duty they do owe their lords and husbands It blots thy beauty as frosts do bite the meads, Confounds thy fame as whirlwinds shake fair buds, And in no sense is meet or amiable Such duty as the subject owes the prince, Even such a woman oweth to her husband; And when she is froward, peevish, sullen, sour, And not obedient to his honest will, What is she but a foul contending rebel And graceless traitor to her loving lord? I am asham'd that women are so simple To offer war where they should kneel for peace; Or seek for rule, supremacy, and sway, When they are bound to serve, love, and obey Then vail your stomachs, for it is no boot, And place your hands below your husband's foot; In token of which duty, if he please, My hand is ready, may it do him ease You are counsellor; if you can command these elements to silence, and work the peace of the present, we will not hand a rope more He'll be hang'd yet, Though every drop of water swear against it, And gape at wid'st to glut him I have done nothing but in care of thee, Of thee, my dear one, thee, my daughter, who Art ignorant of what thou art, nought knowing Of whence I am, nor that I am more better Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell, And thy no greater father By what? By any other house, or person? Of any thing the image, tell me, that Hath kept with thy remembrance? MIRANDA Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and She said thou wast my daughter; and thy father Was Duke of Milan, and his only heir And princess no worse issued He, whom next thyself Of all the world I lov'd, and to him put The manage of my state; as at that time Through all the signories it was the first, And Prospero the prime duke, being so reputed In dignity, and for the liberal arts Without a parallel, those being all my study- The government I cast upon my brother And to my state grew stranger, being transported And rapt in secret studies Being once perfected how to grant suits, How to deny them, who t' advance, and who To trash for over-topping, new created The creatures that were mine, I say, or chang'd 'em, Or else new form'd 'em; having both the key Of officer and office, set all hearts i' th' state To what tune pleas'd his ear; that now he was The ivy which had hid my princely trunk And suck'd my verdure out on't Whereon, A treacherous army levied, one midnight Fated to th' purpose, did Antonio open The gates of Milan; and, i' th' dead of darkness, The ministers for th' purpose hurried thence Me and thy crying self Here in this island we arriv'd; and here Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit Than other princess' can, that have more time For vainer hours, and tutors not so careful Here cease more questions; Thou art inclin'd to sleep; 'tis a good dullness, And give it way Safely in harbour Is the King's ship; in the deep nook, where once Thou call'dst me up at midnight to fetch dew From the still-vex'd Bermoothes, there she's hid; The mariners all under hatches stowed, Who, with a charm join'd to their suff'red labour, I have left asleep; and for the rest o' th' fleet, Which I dispers'd, they all have met again, And are upon the Mediterranean flote Bound sadly home for Naples, Supposing that they saw the King's ship wreck'd, And his great person perish It was mine art, When I arriv'd and heard thee, that made gape The pine, and let thee out When thou cam'st first, Thou strok'st me and made much of me, wouldst give me Water with berries in't, and teach me how To name the bigger light, and how the less, That burn by day and night; and then I lov'd thee, And show'd thee all the qualities o' th' isle, The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place and fertile Curs'd be I that did so! All the charms Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you! For I am all the subjects that you have, Which first was mine own king; and here you sty me In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me The rest o' th' island His art is of such pow'r, It would control my dam's god, Setebos, And make a vassal of him Come unto these yellow sands, And then take hands; Curtsied when you have and kiss'd, The wild waves whist, Foot it featly here and there, And, sweet sprites, the burden bear Where should this music be? I' th' air or th' earth? It sounds no more; and sure it waits upon Some god o' th' island ARIEL'S SONG Full fathom five thy father lies; Of his bones are coral made; Those are pearls that were his eyes; Nothing of him that doth fade But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange My prime request, Which I do last pronounce, is, O you wonder! If you be maid or no? MIRANDA Come from thy ward; For I can here disarm thee with this stick And make thy weapon drop What! An advocate for an impostor! hush! Thou think'st there is no more such shapes as he, Having seen but him and Caliban [To ARIEL] Thou shalt be as free As mountain winds; but then exactly do All points of my command I think he will carry this island home in his pocket, and give it his son for an apple Who in this kind of merry fooling am nothing to you; so you may continue, and laugh at nothing still We two, my lord, Will guard your person while you take your rest, And watch your safety What is it thou didst say? This is a strange repose, to be asleep With eyes wide open; standing, speaking, moving, And yet so fast asleep She that is Queen of Tunis; she that dwells Ten leagues beyond man's life; she that from Naples Can have no note, unless the sun were post, The Man i' th' Moon's too slow, till newborn chins Be rough and razorable; she that from whom We all were sea-swallow'd, though some cast again, And by that destiny, to perform an act Whereof what's past is prologue, what to come In yours and my discharge One stroke Shall free thee from the tribute which thou payest; And I the King shall love thee All the infections that the sun sucks up From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall, and make him By inch-meal a disease! His spirits hear me, And yet I needs must curse If I can recover him, and keep him tame, I will not take too much for him; he shall pay for him that hath him, and that soundly How didst thou scape? How cam'st thou hither? Swear by this bottle how thou cam'st hither-I escap'd upon a butt of sack, which the sailors heaved o'erboard- by this bottle, which I made of the bark of a tree, with mine own hands, since I was cast ashore I'll show thee the best springs; I'll pluck thee berries; I'll fish for thee, and get thee wood enough This my mean task Would be as heavy to me as odious, but The mistress which I serve quickens what's dead, And makes my labours pleasures O, she is Ten times more gentle than her father's crabbed; And he's compos'd of harshness It would become me As well as it does you; and I should do it With much more ease; for my good will is to it, And yours it is against I do beseech you, Chiefly that I might set it in my prayers, What is your name? MIRANDA Admir'd Miranda! What's dearest to the world! Full many a lady I have ey'd with best regard; and many a time Th' harmony of their tongues hath into bondage Brought my too diligent ear; for several virtues Have I lik'd several women, never any With so full soul, but some defect in her Did quarrel with the noblest grace she ow'd, And put it to the foil; but you, O you, So perfect and so peerless, are created Of every creature's best! MIRANDA I do not know One of my sex; no woman's face remember, Save, from my glass, mine own; nor have I seen More that I may call men than you, good friend, And my dear father [Aside] Fair encounter Of two most rare affections! Heavens rain grace On that which breeds between 'em! FERDINAND For my part, the sea cannot drown me; I swam, ere I could recover the shore, five and thirty leagues, off and on Trinculo, keep a good tongue in your head; if you prove a mutineer-the next tree! The poor monster's my subject, and he shall not suffer indignity As I told thee before, I am subject to a tyrant, sorcerer, that by his cunning hath cheated me of the island Trinculo, if you trouble him any more in's tale, by this hand, I will supplant some of your teeth What a pied ninny's this! Thou scurvy patch! I do beseech thy greatness, give him blows, And take his bottle from him Trinculo, run into no further danger; interrupt the monster one word further and, by this hand, I'll turn my mercy out o' doors, and make a stock-fish of thee 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 Monster, I will kill this man; his daughter and I will be King and Queen-save our Graces!-and Trinculo and thyself shall be viceroys Old lord, I cannot blame thee, Who am myself attach'd with weariness To th' dulling of my spirits; sit down and rest Even here I will put off my hope, and keep it No longer for my flatterer; he is drown'd Whom thus we stray to find, and the sea mocks Our frustrate search on land If you could hurt, Your swords are now too massy for your strengths And will not be uplifted Thee of thy son, Alonso, They have bereft; and do pronounce by me Ling'ring perdition, worse than any death Can be at once, shall step by step attend You and your ways; whose wraths to guard you from- Which here, in this most desolate isle, else falls Upon your heads-is nothing but heart's sorrow, And a clear life ensuing They now are in my pow'r; And in these fits I leave them, while I visit Young Ferdinand, whom they suppose is drown'd, And his and mine lov'd darling 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 If I have too austerely punish'd you, Your compensation makes amends; for Have given you here a third of mine own life, Or that for which I live; who once again I tender to thy hand O Ferdinand! Do not smile at me that I boast her off, For thou shalt find she will outstrip all praise, And make it halt behind her Incite them to quick motion; for I must Bestow upon the eyes of this young couple Some vanity of mine art; it is my promise, And they expect it from me 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 Well! Now come, my Ariel, bring a corollary, Rather than want a spirit; appear, and pertly Ceres, most bounteous lady, thy rich leas Of wheat, rye, barley, vetches, oats, and pease; Thy turfy mountains, where live nibbling sheep, And flat meads thatch'd with stover, them to keep; Thy banks with pioned and twilled brims, Which spongy April at thy hest betrims, To make cold nymphs chaste crowns; and thy broom groves, Whose shadow the dismissed bachelor loves, Being lass-lorn; thy pole-clipt vineyard; And thy sea-marge, sterile and rocky hard, Where thou thyself dost air-the Queen o' th' sky, Whose wat'ry arch and messenger am I, Bids thee leave these; and with her sovereign grace, Here on this grass-plot, in this very place, To come and sport Mars's hot minion is return'd again; Her waspish-headed son has broke his arrows, Swears he will shoot no more, but play with sparrows, And be a boy right out How does my bounteous sister? Go with me To bless this twain, that they may prosperous be, And honour'd in their issue You nymphs, call'd Naiads, of the wind'ring brooks, With your sedg'd crowns and ever harmless looks, Leave your crisp channels, and on this green land Answer your summons; Juno does command The dropsy drown this fool! What do you mean To dote thus on such luggage? Let 't alone, And do the murder first Shortly shall all my labours end, and thou Shalt have the air at freedom; for a little Follow, and do me service Go release them, Ariel; My charms I'll break, their senses I'll restore, And they shall be themselves To the dread rattling thunder Have I given fire, and rifted Jove's stout oak With his own bolt; the strong-bas'd promontory Have I made shake, and by the spurs pluck'd up The pine and cedar [Solem music] Here enters ARIEL before; then ALONSO, with frantic gesture, attended by GONZALO; SEBASTIAN and ANTONIO in like manner, attended by ADRIAN and FRANCISCO O good Gonzalo, My true preserver, and a loyal sir To him thou follow'st! I will pay thy graces Home both in word and deed Their understanding Begins to swell, and the approaching tide Will shortly fill the reasonable shore That now lies foul and muddy To the King's ship, invisible as thou art; There shalt thou find the mariners asleep Under the hatches; the master and the boatswain Being awake, enforce them to this place; And presently, I prithee If thou beest Prospero, Give us particulars of thy preservation; How thou hast met us here, whom three hours since Were wreck'd upon this shore; where I have lost- How sharp the point of this remembrance is!- My dear son Ferdinand I rather think You have not sought her help, of whose soft grace For the like loss I have her sovereign aid, And rest myself content Welcome, sir; This cell's my court; here have I few attendants, And subjects none abroad; pray you, look in Here PROSPERO discovers FERDINAND and MIRANDA, playing at chess MIRANDA Now all the blessings Of a glad father compass thee about! Arise, and say how thou cam'st here What is this maid with whom thou wast at play? Your eld'st acquaintance cannot be three hours; Is she the goddess that hath sever'd us, And brought us thus together? FERDINAND On a trice, so please you, Even in a dream, were we divided from them, And were brought moping hither Sir, my liege, Do not infest your mind with beating on The strangeness of this business; at pick'd leisure, Which shall be shortly, single I'll resolve you, Which to you shall seem probable, of every These happen'd accidents; till when, be cheerful And think of each thing well 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 Go, sirrah, to my cell; Take with you your companions; as you look To have my pardon, trim it handsomely 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 Now I want Spirits to enforce, art to enchant; And my ending is despair Unless I be reliev'd by prayer, Which pierces so that it assaults Mercy itself, and frees all faults A most incomparable man; breath'd, as it were, To an untirable and continuate goodness If in her marriage my consent be missing, I call the gods to witness I will choose Mine heir from forth the beggars of the world, And dispossess her all Till I be gentle, stay thou for thy good morrow; When thou art Timon's dog, and these knaves honest So, so, there! Aches contract and starve your supple joints! That there should be small love amongst these sweet knaves, And all this courtesy! The strain of man's bred out Into baboon and monkey Most honoured Timon, It hath pleas'd the gods to remember my father's age, And call him to long peace O you gods, what a number of men eats Timon, and he sees 'em not! It grieves me to see so many dip their meat in one man's blood; and all the madness is, he cheers them up too Would all those flatterers were thine enemies then, that then thou mightst kill 'em, and bid me to 'em How had you been my friends else? Why have you that charitable title from thousands, did not you chiefly belong to my heart? I have told more of you to myself than you can with modesty speak in your own behalf; and thus far I confirm you 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 I take all and your several visitations So kind to heart 'tis not enough to give; Methinks I could deal kingdoms to my friends And ne'er be weary To Varro and to Isidore He owes nine thousand; besides my former sum, Which makes it five and twenty If I would sell my horse and buy twenty moe Better than he, why, give my horse to Timon, Ask nothing, give it him, it foals me straight, And able horses When men come to borrow of your masters, they approach sadly and go away merry; but they enter my mistress' house merrily and go away sadly Do it then, that we may account thee a whoremaster and a knave; which notwithstanding, thou shalt be no less esteemed O my good lord, At many times I brought in my accounts, Laid them before you; you would throw them off And say you found them in mine honesty When, for some trifling present, you have bid me Return so much, I have shook my head and wept; Yea, 'gainst th' authority of manners, pray'd you To hold your hand more close I did endure Not seldom, nor no slight checks, when I have Prompted you in the ebb of your estate And your great flow of debts If you suspect my husbandry or falsehood, Call me before th' exactest auditors And set me on the proof So the gods bless me, When all our offices have been oppress'd With riotous feeders, when our vaults have wept With drunken spilth of wine, when every room Hath blaz'd with lights and bray'd with minstrelsy, I have retir'd me to a wasteful cock And set mine eyes at flow Their blood is cak'd, 'tis cold, it seldom flows; 'Tis lack of kindly warmth they are not kind; And nature, as it grows again toward earth, Is fashion'd for the journey dull and heavy But believe you this, my lord, that not long ago one of his men was with the Lord Lucullus to borrow so many talents; nay, urg'd extremely for't, and showed what necessity belong'd to't, and yet was denied Exit SERVILIUS True, as you said, Timon is shrunk indeed; And he that's once denied will hardly speed And does he think so backwardly of me now That I'll requite it last? No; So it may prove an argument of laughter To th' rest, and I 'mongst lords be thought a fool Mark how strange it shows Timon in this should pay more than he owes; And e'en as if your lord should wear rich jewels And send for money for 'em I'm weary of this charge, the gods can witness; I know my lord hath spent of Timon's wealth, And now ingratitude makes it worse than stealth Why then preferr'd you not your sums and bills When your false masters eat of my lord's meat? Then they could smile, and fawn upon his debts, And take down th' int'rest into their glutt'nous maws Many do keep their chambers are not sick; And if it be so far beyond his health, Methinks he should the sooner pay his debts, And make a clear way to the gods Go, I charge thee, invite them all; let in the tide Of knaves once more; my cook and I'll provide I am an humble suitor to your virtues; For pity is the virtue of the law, And none but tyrants use it cruelly You undergo too strict a paradox, Striving to make an ugly deed look fair; Your words have took such pains as if they labour'd To bring manslaughter into form and set Quarrelling upon the head of valour; which, indeed, Is valour misbegot, and came into the world When sects and factions were newly born If by this crime he owes the law his life, Why, let the war receive't in valiant gore; For law is strict, and war is nothing more I cannot think but your age has forgot me; It could not else be I should prove so base To sue, and be denied such common grace He hath sent me an earnest inviting, which many my near occasions did urge me to put off; but he hath conjur'd me beyond them, and I must needs appear Live loath'd and long, Most smiling, smooth, detested parasites, Courteous destroyers, affable wolves, meek bears, You fools of fortune, trencher friends, time's flies, Cap and knee slaves, vapours, and minute-lacks! Of man and beast the infinite malady Crust you quite o'er! What, dost thou go? Soft, take thy physic first; thou too, and thou O thou wall That girdles in those wolves, dive in the earth And fence not Athens! Matrons, turn incontinent Obedience, fail in children! Slaves and fools, Pluck the grave wrinkled Senate from the bench And minister in their steads Bankrupts, hold fast; Rather than render back, out with your knives And cut your trusters' throats Piety and fear, Religion to the gods, peace, justice, truth, Domestic awe, night-rest, and neighbourhood, Instruction, manners, mysteries, and trades, Degrees, observances, customs and laws, Decline to your confounding contraries And let confusion live Lust and liberty, Creep in the minds and marrows of our youth, That 'gainst the stream of virtue they may strive And drown themselves in riot Alas, kind lord! He's flung in rage from this ingrateful seat Of monstrous friends; nor has he with him to Supply his life, or that which can command it Season the slaves For tubs and baths; bring down rose-cheek'd youth To the tub-fast and the diet I have but little gold of late, brave Timon, The want whereof doth daily make revolt In my penurious band Spare not the babe Whose dimpled smiles from fools exhaust their mercy; Think it a bastard whom the oracle Hath doubtfully pronounc'd thy throat shall cut, And mince it sans remorse Be whores still; And he whose pious breath seeks to convert you- Be strong in whore, allure him, burn him up; Let your close fire predominate his smoke, And be no turncoats Consumptions sow In hollow bones of man; strike their sharp shins, And mar men's spurring Hoar the flamen, That scolds against the quality of flesh And not believes himself Do you damn others, and let this damn you, And ditches grave you all! PHRYNIA AND TIMANDRA hinge thy knee, And let his very breath whom thou'lt observe Blow off thy cap; praise his most vicious strain, And call it excellent Thou wast told thus; Thou gav'st thine ears, like tapsters that bade welcome, To knaves and all approachers Let us make the assay upon him; if he care not for't, he will supply us easily; if he covetously reserve it, how shall's get it? SECOND BANDIT Go, suck the subtle blood o' th' grape Till the high fever seethe your blood to froth, And so scape hanging Then I love thee Because thou art a woman and disclaim'st Flinty mankind, whose eyes do never give But thorough lust and laughter Forgive my general and exceptless rashness, You perpetual-sober gods! I do proclaim One honest man- mistake me not, but one; No more, I pray- and he's a steward Be men like blasted woods, And may diseases lick up their false bloods! And so, farewell and thrive It must be a personating of himself; a satire against the softness of prosperity, with a discovery of the infinite flatteries that follow youth and opulency Nay, let's seek him; Then do we sin against our own estate When we may profit meet and come too late True; When the day serves, before black-corner'd night, Find what thou want'st by free and offer'd light He and myself Have travail'd in the great show'r of your gifts, And sweetly felt it The senators with one consent of love Entreat thee back to Athens, who have thought On special dignities, which vacant lie For thy best use and wearing Lend me a fool's heart and a woman's eyes, And I'll beweep these comforts, worthy senators My long sickness Of health and living now begins to mend, And nothing brings me all things I have a tree, which grows here in my close, That mine own use invites me to cut down, And shortly must I fell it Tell my friends, Tell Athens, in the sequence of degree From high to low throughout, that whoso please To stop affliction, let him take his haste, Come hither, ere my tree hath felt the axe, And hang himself I met a courier, one mine ancient friend, Whom, though in general part we were oppos'd, Yet our old love had a particular force, And made us speak like friends 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 So did we woo Transformed Timon to our city's love By humble message and by promis'd means Those enemies of Timon's and mine own, Whom you yourselves shall set out for reproof, Fall, and no more Dramatis Personae SATURNINUS, son to the late Emperor of Rome, afterwards Emperor BASSIANUS, brother to Saturninus TITUS ANDRONICUS, a noble Roman MARCUS ANDRONICUS, Tribune of the People, and brother to Titus Sons to Titus Andronicus Romans, friends, followers, favourers of my right, If ever Bassianus, Caesar's son, Were gracious in the eyes of royal Rome, Keep then this passage to the Capitol; And suffer not dishonour to approach The imperial seat, to virtue consecrate, To justice, continence, and nobility; But let desert in pure election shine; And, Romans, fight for freedom in your choice Princes, that strive by factions and by friends Ambitiously for rule and empery, Know that the people of Rome, for whom we stand A special party, have by common voice In election for the Roman empery Chosen Andronicus, surnamed Pius For many good and great deserts to Rome Ten years are spent since first he undertook This cause of Rome, and chastised with arms Our enemies' pride; five times he hath return'd Bleeding to Rome, bearing his valiant sons In coffins from the field; and at this day To the monument of that Andronici Done sacrifice of expiation, And slain the noblest prisoner of the Goths Let us entreat, by honour of his name Whom worthily you would have now succeed, And in the Capitol and Senate's right, Whom you pretend to honour and adore, That you withdraw you and abate your strength, Dismiss your followers, and, as suitors should, Plead your deserts in peace and humbleness Friends, that have been thus forward in my right, I thank you all and here dismiss you all, And to the love and favour of my country Commit myself, my person, and the cause Exeunt the soldiers of SATURNINUS Rome, be as just and gracious unto me As I am confident and kind to thee The good Andronicus, Patron of virtue, Rome's best champion, Successful in the battles that he fights, With honour and with fortune is return'd From where he circumscribed with his sword And brought to yoke the enemies of Rome Sound drums and trumpets, and then enter MARTIUS and MUTIUS, two of TITUS' sons; and then two men bearing a coffin covered with black; then LUCIUS and QUINTUS, two other sons; then TITUS ANDRONICUS; and then TAMORA the Queen of Goths, with her three sons, ALARBUS, DEMETRIUS, and CHIRON, with AARON the Moor, and others, as many as can be [They open the tomb] There greet in silence, as the dead are wont, And sleep in peace, slain in your country's wars Remaineth nought but to inter our brethren, And with loud 'larums welcome them to Rome [Sound trumpets and lay the coffin in the tomb] In peace and honour rest you here, my sons; Rome's readiest champions, repose you here in rest, Secure from worldly chances and mishaps! Here lurks no treason, here no envy swells, Here grow no damned drugs, here are no storms, No noise, but silence and eternal sleep And welcome, nephews, from successful wars, You that survive and you that sleep in fame Fair lords, your fortunes are alike in all That in your country's service drew your swords; But safer triumph is this funeral pomp That hath aspir'd to Solon's happiness And triumphs over chance in honour's bed What should I don this robe and trouble you? Be chosen with proclamations to-day, To-morrow yield up rule, resign my life, And set abroad new business for you all? Rome, I have been thy soldier forty years, And led my country's strength successfully, And buried one and twenty valiant sons, Knighted in field, slain manfully in arms, In right and service of their noble country Content thee, Prince; I will restore to thee The people's hearts, and wean them from themselves Tribunes, I thank you; and this suit I make, That you create our Emperor's eldest son, Lord Saturnine; whose virtues will, I hope, Reflect on Rome as Titan's rays on earth, And ripen justice in this commonweal Titus Andronicus, for thy favours done To us in our election this day I give thee thanks in part of thy deserts, And will with deeds requite thy gentleness; And for an onset, Titus, to advance Thy name and honourable family, Lavinia will I make my emperess, Rome's royal mistress, mistress of my heart, And in the sacred Pantheon her espouse [To TAMORA] Now, madam, are you prisoner to an emperor; To him that for your honour and your state Will use you nobly and your followers Was there none else in Rome to make a stale But Saturnine? Full well, Andronicus, Agree these deeds with that proud brag of thine That saidst I begg'd the empire at thy hands And therefore, lovely Tamora, Queen of Goths, That, like the stately Phoebe 'mongst her nymphs, Dost overshine the gallant'st dames of Rome, If thou be pleas'd with this my sudden choice, Behold, I choose thee, Tamora, for my bride And will create thee Emperess of Rome Marcus, even thou hast struck upon my crest, And with these boys mine honour thou hast wounded Suffer thy brother Marcus to inter His noble nephew here in virtue's nest, That died in honour and Lavinia's cause Rise, Marcus, rise; The dismal'st day is this that e'er I saw, To be dishonoured by my sons in Rome! Well, bury him, and bury me the next Traitor, if Rome have law or we have power, Thou and thy faction shall repent this rape Receive him then to favour, Saturnine, That hath express'd himself in all his deeds A father and a friend to thee and Rome My worthy lord, if ever Tamora Were gracious in those princely eyes of thine, Then hear me speak indifferently for all; And at my suit, sweet, pardon what is past [Aside to SATURNINUS] My lord, be rul'd by me, be won at last; Dissemble all your griefs and discontents You are but newly planted in your throne; Lest, then, the people, and patricians too, Upon a just survey take Titus' part, And so supplant you for ingratitude, Which Rome reputes to be a heinous sin, Yield at entreats, and then let me alone I'll find a day to massacre them all, And raze their faction and their family, The cruel father and his traitorous sons, To whom I sued for my dear son's life; And make them know what 'tis to let a queen Kneel in the streets and beg for grace in vain.- Come, come, sweet Emperor; come, Andronicus Titus, I am incorporate in Rome, A Roman now adopted happily, And must advise the Emperor for his good This day all quarrels die, Andronicus; And let it be mine honour, good my lord, That I have reconcil'd your friends and you For you, Prince Bassianus, I have pass'd My word and promise to the Emperor That you will be more mild and tractable We do, and vow to heaven and to his Highness That what we did was mildly as we might, Tend'ring our sister's honour and our own Come, if the Emperor's court can feast two brides, You are my guest, Lavinia, and your friends 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 Then, Aaron, arm thy heart and fit thy thoughts To mount aloft with thy imperial mistress, And mount her pitch whom thou in triumph long To wait, said I? To wanton with this queen, This goddess, this Semiramis, this nymph, This siren that will charm Rome's Saturnine, And see his shipwreck and his commonweal's Chiron, thy years wants wit, thy wits wants edge And manners, to intrude where I am grac'd, And may, for aught thou knowest, affected be I am as able and as fit as thou To serve and to deserve my mistress' grace; And that my sword upon thee shall approve, And plead my passions for Lavinia's love Why, boy, although our mother, unadvis'd, Gave you a dancing rapier by your side, Are you so desperate grown to threat your friends? Go to; have your lath glued within your sheath Till you know better how to handle it 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 A speedier course than ling'ring languishment Must we pursue, and I have found the path My lords, a solemn hunting is in hand; There will the lovely Roman ladies troop; The forest walks are wide and spacious, And many unfrequented plots there are Fitted by kind for rape and villainy The Emperor's court is like the house of Fame, The palace full of tongues, of eyes, and ears; The woods are ruthless, dreadful, deaf, and dull There speak and strike, brave boys, and take your turns; There serve your lust, shadowed from heaven's eye, And revel in Lavinia's treasury The hunt is up, the morn is bright and grey, The fields are fragrant, and the woods are green I have dogs, my lord, Will rouse the proudest panther in the chase, And climb the highest promontory top And I have horse will follow where the game Makes way, and run like swallows o'er the plain He that had wit would think that I had none, To bury so much gold under a tree And never after to inherit it Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand, Blood and revenge are hammering in my head Hark, Tamora, the empress of my soul, Which never hopes more heaven than rests in thee- This is the day of doom for Bassianus; His Philomel must lose her tongue to-day, Thy sons make pillage of her chastity, And wash their hands in Bassianus' blood Seest thou this letter? Take it up, I pray thee, And give the King this fatal-plotted scroll Believe me, Queen, your swarth Cimmerian Doth make your honour of his body's hue, Spotted, detested, and abominable No sooner had they told this hellish tale But straight they told me they would bind me here Unto the body of a dismal yew, And leave me to this miserable death Give me the poniard; you shall know, my boys, Your mother's hand shall right your mother's wrong Drag hence her husband to some secret hole, And make his dead trunk pillow to our lust Remember, boys, I pour'd forth tears in vain To save your brother from the sacrifice; But fierce Andronicus would not relent O, keep me from their worse than killing lust, And tumble me into some loathsome pit, Where never man's eye may behold my body; Do this, and be a charitable murderer Now will I hence to seek my lovely Moor, And let my spleenful sons this trull deflower To prove thou hast a true divining heart, Aaron and thou look down into this den, And see a fearful sight of blood and death Do this, and purchase us thy lasting friends.' O Tamora! was ever heard the like? This is the pit and this the elder-tree So, now go tell, an if thy tongue can speak, Who 'twas that cut thy tongue and ravish'd thee She hath no tongue to call, nor hands to wash; And so let's leave her to her silent walks 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 But sure some Tereus hath deflowered thee, And, lest thou shouldst detect him, cut thy tongue [ANDRONICUS lieth down, and the judges pass by him with the prisoners, and exeunt] For these, Tribunes, in the dust I write My heart's deep languor and my soul's sad tears Let my tears stanch the earth's dry appetite; My sons' sweet blood will make it shame and blush O noble father, you lament in vain; The Tribunes hear you not, no man is by, And you recount your sorrows to a stone if they did hear, They would not mark me; if they did mark, They would not pity me; yet plead I must, And bootless unto them A stone is silent and offendeth not, And tribunes with their tongues doom men to death Speak, Lavinia, what accursed hand Hath made thee handless in thy father's sight? What fool hath added water to the sea, Or brought a fagot to bright-burning Troy? My grief was at the height before thou cam'st, And now like Nilus it disdaineth bounds Give me a sword, I'll chop off my hands too, For they have fought for Rome, and all in vain; And they have nurs'd this woe in feeding life; In bootless prayer have they been held up, And they have serv'd me to effectless use This way to death my wretched sons are gone; Here stands my other son, a banish'd man, And here my brother, weeping at my woes Had I but seen thy picture in this plight, It would have madded me; what shall I do Now I behold thy lively body so? Thou hast no hands to wipe away thy tears, Nor tongue to tell me who hath martyr'd thee; Thy husband he is dead, and for his death Thy brothers are condemn'd, and dead by this Sweet father, cease your tears; for at your grief See how my wretched sister sobs and weeps Titus Andronicus, my lord the Emperor Sends thee this word, that, if thou love thy sons, Let Marcus, Lucius, or thyself, old Titus, Or any one of you, chop off your hand And send it to the King he for the same Will send thee hither both thy sons alive, And that shall be the ransom for their fault 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 My hand will serve the turn, My youth can better spare my blood than you, And therefore mine shall save my brothers' lives Sirs, strive no more; such with'red herbs as these Are meet for plucking up, and therefore mine Come hither, Aaron, I'll deceive them both; Lend me thy hand, and I will give thee mine [Aside] If that be call'd deceit, I will be honest, And never whilst I live deceive men so; But I'll deceive you in another sort, And that you'll say ere half an hour pass Good Aaron, give his Majesty my hand; Tell him it was a hand that warded him From thousand dangers; bid him bury it As for my sons, say I account of them As jewels purchas'd at an easy price; And yet dear too, because I bought mine own O, how this villainy Doth fat me with the very thoughts of it! Let fools do good, and fair men call for grace see thy two sons' heads, Thy warlike hand, thy mangled daughter here; Thy other banish'd son with this dear sight Struck pale and bloodless; and thy brother, I, Even like a stony image, cold and numb 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 You heavy people, circle me about, That I may turn me to each one of you And swear unto my soul to right your wrongs And, Lavinia, thou shalt be employ'd in this; Bear thou my hand, sweet wench, between thy teeth As for thee, boy, go, get thee from my sight; Thou art an exile, and thou must not stay Hie to the Goths and raise an army there; And if ye love me, as I think you do, Let's kiss and part, for we have much to do Farewell, Lavinia, my noble sister; O, would thou wert as thou tofore hast been! But now nor Lucius nor Lavinia lives But in oblivion and hateful griefs If Lucius live, he will requite your wrongs And make proud Saturnine and his emperess Beg at the gates like Tarquin and his queen Fie, fie, how franticly I square my talk, As if we should forget we had no hands, If Marcus did not name the word of hands! Come, let's fall to; and, gentle girl, eat this Thou shalt not sigh, nor hold thy stumps to heaven, Nor wink, nor nod, nor kneel, nor make a sign, But I of these will wrest an alphabet, And by still practice learn to know thy meaning Peace, tender sapling; thou art made of tears, And tears will quickly melt thy life away 'But!' How if that fly had a father and mother? How would he hang his slender gilded wings And buzz lamenting doings in the air! Poor harmless fly, That with his pretty buzzing melody Came here to make us merry! And thou hast kill'd him Come, boy, and go with me; thy sight is young, And thou shalt read when mine begin to dazzle TITUS' garden Enter YOUNG LUCIUS and LAVINIA running after him, and the boy flies from her with his books under his arm Ah, boy, Cornelia never with more care Read to her sons than she hath read to thee Sweet poetry and Tully's Orator What would she find? Lavinia, shall I read? This is the tragic tale of Philomel And treats of Tereus' treason and his rape; And rape, I fear, was root of thy annoy Lavinia, wert thou thus surpris'd, sweet girl, Ravish'd and wrong'd as Philomela was, Forc'd in the ruthless, vast, and gloomy woods? See, see! Ay, such a place there is where we did hunt- O, had we never, never hunted there!- Pattern'd by that the poet here describes, By nature made for murders and for rapes O, calm thee, gentle lord! although I know There is enough written upon this earth To stir a mutiny in the mildest thoughts, And arm the minds of infants to exclaims 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 The dam will wake; and if she wind ye once, She's with the lion deeply still in league, And lulls him whilst she playeth on her back, And when he sleeps will she do what she list You are a young huntsman, Marcus; let alone; And come, I will go get a leaf of brass, And with a gad of steel will write these words, And lay it by Lucius and I'll go brave it at the court; Ay, marry, will we, sir! and we'll be waited on [Aside] That you are both decipher'd, that's the news, For villains mark'd with rape.- May it please you, My grandsire, well advis'd, hath sent by me The goodliest weapons of his armoury To gratify your honourable youth, The hope of Rome; for so he bid me say; And so I do, and with his gifts present Your lordships, that, whenever you have need, You may be armed and appointed well 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 [Takes the CHILD from the NURSE, and draws] Stay, murderous villains, will you kill your brother! Now, by the burning tapers of the sky That shone so brightly when this boy was got, He dies upon my scimitar's sharp point That touches this my first-born son and heir I tell you, younglings, not Enceladus, With all his threat'ning band of Typhon's brood, Nor great Alcides, nor the god of war, Shall seize this prey out of his father's hands Look how the black slave smiles upon the father, As who should say 'Old lad, I am thine own.' He is your brother, lords, sensibly fed Of that self-blood that first gave life to you; And from your womb where you imprisoned were He is enfranchised and come to light Go pack with him, and give the mother gold, And tell them both the circumstance of all, And how by this their child shall be advanc'd, And be received for the Emperor's heir And substituted in the place of mine, To calm this tempest whirling in the court; And let the Emperor dandle him for his own You see I have given her physic, [Pointing to the NURSE] And you must needs bestow her funeral; The fields are near, and you are gallant grooms Now to the Goths, as swift as swallow flies, There to dispose this treasure in mine arms, And secretly to greet the Empress' friends I'll make you feed on berries and on roots, And feed on curds and whey, and suck the goat, And cabin in a cave, and bring you up To be a warrior and command a camp You, cousins, shall Go sound the ocean and cast your nets; Happily you may catch her in the sea; Yet there's as little justice as at land This wicked Emperor may have shipp'd her hence; And, kinsmen, then we may go pipe for justice Join with the Goths, and with revengeful war Take wreak on Rome for this ingratitude, And vengeance on the traitor Saturnine Why, I am going with my pigeons to the Tribunal Plebs, to take up a matter of brawl betwixt my uncle and one of the Emperal's men Why, sir, that is as fit as can be to serve for your oration; and let him deliver the pigeons to the Emperor from you Make no more ado, But give your pigeons to the Emperor; By me thou shalt have justice at his hands And when you come to him, at the first approach you must kneel; then kiss his foot; then deliver up your pigeons; and then look for your reward And when thou hast given it to the Emperor, Knock at my door, and tell me what he says Before the palace Enter the EMPEROR, and the EMPRESS and her two sons, DEMETRIUS and CHIRON; LORDS and others Why, lords, what wrongs are these! Was ever seen An emperor in Rome thus overborne, Troubled, confronted thus; and, for the extent Of egal justice, us'd in such contempt? My lords, you know, as know the mightful gods, However these disturbers of our peace Buzz in the people's ears, there nought hath pass'd But even with law against the wilful sons Of old Andronicus And what an if His sorrows have so overwhelm'd his wits, Shall we be thus afflicted in his wreaks, His fits, his frenzy, and his bitterness? And now he writes to heaven for his redress For this proud mock I'll be thy slaughterman, Sly frantic wretch, that holp'st to make me great, In hope thyself should govern Rome and me 'Tis he the common people love so much; Myself hath often heard them say- When I have walked like a private man- That Lucius' banishment was wrongfully, And they have wish'd that Lucius were their emperor If Tamora entreat him, then he will; For I can smooth and fill his aged ears With golden promises, that, were his heart Almost impregnable, his old ears deaf, Yet should both ear and heart obey my tongue [To AEMILIUS] Go thou before to be our ambassador; Say that the Emperor requests a parley Of warlike Lucius, and appoint the meeting Even at his father's house, the old Andronicus Aemilius, do this message honourably; And if he stand on hostage for his safety, Bid him demand what pledge will please him best Approved warriors and my faithful friends, I have received letters from great Rome Which signifies what hate they bear their Emperor And how desirous of our sight they are we'll follow where thou lead'st, Like stinging bees in hottest summer's day, Led by their master to the flow'red fields, And be aveng'd on cursed Tamora O worthy Goth, this is the incarnate devil That robb'd Andronicus of his good hand; This is the pearl that pleas'd your Empress' eye; And here's the base fruit of her burning lust Say, wall-ey'd slave, whither wouldst thou convey This growing image of thy fiend-like face? Why dost not speak? What, deaf? Not a word? A halter, soldiers! Hang him on this tree, And by his side his fruit of bastardy Say on; an if it please me which thou speak'st, Thy child shall live, and I will see it nourish'd 'Twas her two sons that murdered Bassianus; They cut thy sister's tongue, and ravish'd her, And cut her hands, and trimm'd her as thou sawest 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 I pried me through the crevice of a wall, When, for his hand, he had his two sons' heads; Beheld his tears, and laugh'd so heartily That both mine eyes were rainy like to his; And when I told the Empress of this sport, She swooned almost at my pleasing tale, And for my tidings gave me twenty kisses 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 Oft have I digg'd up dead men from their graves, And set them upright at their dear friends' door Even when their sorrows almost was forgot, And on their skins, as on the bark of trees, Have with my knife carved in Roman letters 'Let not your sorrow die, though I am dead.' Tut, I have done a thousand dreadful things As willingly as one would kill a fly; And nothing grieves me heartily indeed But that I cannot do ten thousand more Lord Lucius, and you Princes of the Goths, The Roman Emperor greets you all by me; And, for he understands you are in arms, He craves a parley at your father's house, Willing you to demand your hostages, And they shall be immediately deliver'd 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 Knock at his study, where they say he keeps To ruminate strange plots of dire revenge; Tell him Revenge is come to join with him, And work confusion on his enemies Who doth molest my contemplation? Is it your trick to make me ope the door, That so my sad decrees may fly away And all my study be to no effect? You are deceiv'd; for what I mean to do See here in bloody lines I have set down; And what is written shall be executed 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 O sweet Revenge, now do I come to thee; And, if one arm's embracement will content thee, I will embrace thee in it by and by Go thou with them; and in the Emperor's court There is a queen, attended by a Moor; Well shalt thou know her by thine own proportion, For up and down she doth resemble thee But would it please thee, good Andronicus, To send for Lucius, thy thrice-valiant son, Who leads towards Rome a band of warlike Goths, And bid him come and banquet at thy house; When he is here, even at thy solemn feast, I will bring in the Empress and her sons, The Emperor himself, and all thy foes; And at thy mercy shall they stoop and kneel, And on them shalt thou ease thy angry heart Tell him the Emperor and the Empress too Feast at my house, and he shall feast with them Nay, nay, let Rape and Murder stay with me, Or else I'll call my brother back again, And cleave to no revenge but Lucius [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 [Aside] I knew them all, though they suppos'd me mad, And will o'er reach them in their own devices, A pair of cursed hell-hounds and their dam The one is Murder, and Rape is the other's name; And therefore bind them, gentle Publius- Caius and Valentine, lay hands on them Oft have you heard me wish for such an hour, And now I find it; therefore bind them sure, And stop their mouths if they begin to cry You kill'd her husband; and for that vile fault Two of her brothers were condemn'd to death, My hand cut off and made a merry jest; Both her sweet hands, her tongue, and that more dear Than hands or tongue, her spotless chastity, Inhuman traitors, you constrain'd and forc'd You know your mother means to feast with me, And calls herself Revenge, and thinks me mad This is the feast that I have bid her to, And this the banquet she shall surfeit on; For worse than Philomel you us'd my daughter, And worse than Progne I will be reveng'd Lavinia, come, Receive the blood; and when that they are dead, Let me go grind their bones to powder small, And with this hateful liquor temper it; And in that paste let their vile heads be bak'd Come, come, be every one officious To make this banquet, which I wish may prove More stern and bloody than the Centaurs' feast Now bring them in, for I will play the cook, And see them ready against their mother comes The feast is ready which the careful Titus Hath ordain'd to an honourable end, For peace, for love, for league, and good to Rome Welcome, my lord; welcome, dread Queen; Welcome, ye warlike Goths; welcome, Lucius; And welcome all Because the girl should not survive her shame, And by her presence still renew his sorrows I am as woeful as Virginius was, And have a thousand times more cause than he To do this outrage; and it now is done They ravish'd her, and cut away her tongue; And they, 'twas they, that did her all this wrong My heart is not compact of flint nor steel; Nor can I utter all our bitter grief, But floods of tears will drown my oratory And break my utt'rance, even in the time When it should move ye to attend me most, And force you to commiseration Here's Rome's young Captain, let him tell the tale; While I stand by and weep to hear him speak Then, gracious auditory, be it known to you That Chiron and the damn'd Demetrius Were they that murd'red our Emperor's brother; And they it were that ravished our sister For their fell faults our brothers were beheaded, Our father's tears despis'd, and basely cozen'd Of that true hand that fought Rome's quarrel out And sent her enemies unto the grave Lastly, myself unkindly banished, The gates shut on me, and turn'd weeping out, To beg relief among Rome's enemies; Who drown'd their enmity in my true tears, And op'd their arms to embrace me as a friend Alas! you know I am no vaunter, I; My scars can witness, dumb although they are, That my report is just and full of truth [Pointing to the CHILD in an attendant's arms] Of this was Tamora delivered, The issue of an irreligious Moor, Chief architect and plotter of these woes what say you, Romans? Have we done aught amiss, show us wherein, And, from the place where you behold us pleading, The poor remainder of Andronici Will, hand in hand, all headlong hurl ourselves, And on the ragged stones beat forth our souls, And make a mutual closure of our house Speak, Romans, speak; and if you say we shall, Lo, hand in hand, Lucius and I will fall Thy grandsire lov'd thee well; Many a time he danc'd thee on his knee, Sung thee asleep, his loving breast thy pillow; Many a story hath he told to thee, And bid thee bear his pretty tales in mind And talk of them when he was dead and gone How many thousand times hath these poor lips, When they were living, warm'd themselves on thine! O, now, sweet boy, give them their latest kiss! Bid him farewell; commit him to the grave; Do them that kindness, and take leave of them Set him breast-deep in earth, and famish him; There let him stand and rave and cry for food Some loving friends convey the Emperor hence, And give him burial in his father's grave As for that ravenous tiger, Tamora, No funeral rite, nor man in mourning weed, No mournful bell shall ring her burial; But throw her forth to beasts and birds to prey HECTOR TROILUS PARIS DEIPHOBUS HELENUS MARGARELON, a bastard son of Priam Trojan commanders AENEAS ANTENOR CALCHAS, a Trojan priest, taking part with the Greeks PANDARUS, uncle to Cressida AGAMEMNON, the Greek general MENELAUS, his brother Greek commanders 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 Why should I war without the walls of Troy That find such cruel battle here within? Each Troyan that is master of his heart, Let him to field; Troilus, alas, hath none! PANDARUS The Greeks are strong, and skilful to their strength, Fierce to their skill, and to their fierceness valiant; But I am weaker than a woman's tear, Tamer than sleep, fonder than ignorance, Less valiant than the virgin in the night, And skilless as unpractis'd infancy Thou answer'st 'She is fair'- Pourest in the open ulcer of my heart- Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gait, her voice, Handlest in thy discourse if she be fair, 'tis the better for her; an she be not, she has the mends in her own hands Tell me, Apollo, for thy Daphne's love, What Cressid is, what Pandar, and what we? Her bed is India; there she lies, a pearl; Between our Ilium and where she resides Let it be call'd the wild and wand'ring flood; Ourself the merchant, and this sailing Pandar Our doubtful hope, our convoy, and our bark There is no man hath a virtue that he hath not a glimpse of, nor any man an attaint but he carries some stain of it; he is melancholy without cause and merry against the hair; he hath the joints of every thing; but everything so out of joint that he is a gouty Briareus, many hands and no use, or purblind Argus, all eyes and no sight They say he yesterday cop'd Hector in the battle and struck him down, the disdain and shame whereof hath ever since kept Hector fasting and waking He has a shrewd wit, I can tell you; and he's a man good enough; he's one o' th' soundest judgments in Troy, whosoever, and a proper man of person O brave Troilus! Look well upon him, niece; look you how his sword is bloodied, and his helm more hack'd than Hector's; and how he looks, and how he goes! O admirable youth! he never saw three and twenty Asses, fools, dolts! chaff and bran, chaff and bran! porridge after meat! I could live and die in the eyes of Troilus Crows and daws, crows and daws! I had rather be such a man as Troilus than Agamemnon and all Greece Upon my back, to defend my belly; upon my wit, to defend my wiles; upon my secrecy, to defend mine honesty; my mask, to defend my beauty; and you, to defend all these; and at all these wards I lie at, at a thousand watches If I cannot ward what I would not have hit, I can watch you for telling how I took the blow; unless it swell past hiding, and then it's past watching PANDARUS Princes, What grief hath set these jaundies o'er your cheeks? The ample proposition that hope makes In all designs begun on earth below Fails in the promis'd largeness; checks and disasters Grow in the veins of actions highest rear'd, As knots, by the conflux of meeting sap, Infects the sound pine, and diverts his grain Tortive and errant from his course of growth Why then, you princes, Do you with cheeks abash'd behold our works And call them shames, which are, indeed, nought else But the protractive trials of great Jove To find persistive constancy in men; The fineness of which metal is not found In fortune's love? For then the bold and coward, The wise and fool, the artist and unread, The hard and soft, seem all affin'd and kin But in the wind and tempest of her frown Distinction, with a broad and powerful fan, Puffing at all, winnows the light away; And what hath mass or matter by itself Lies rich in virtue and unmingled Besides the applause and approbation The which, [To AGAMEMNON] most mighty, for thy place and sway, [To NESTOR] And, thou most reverend, for thy stretch'd-out life, I give to both your speeches- which were such As Agamemnon and the hand of Greece Should hold up high in brass; and such again As venerable Nestor, hatch'd in silver, Should with a bond of air, strong as the axle-tree On which heaven rides, knit all the Greekish ears To his experienc'd tongue-yet let it please both, Thou great, and wise, to hear Ulysses speak 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 The heavens themselves, the planets, and this centre, Observe degree, priority, and place, Insisture, course, proportion, season, form, Office, and custom, in all line of order; And therefore is the glorious planet Sol In noble eminence enthron'd and spher'd Amidst the other, whose med'cinable eye Corrects the ill aspects of planets evil, And posts, like the commandment of a king, Sans check, to good and bad the bounded waters Should lift their bosoms higher than the shores, And make a sop of all this solid globe; Strength should be lord of imbecility, And the rude son should strike his father dead; Force should be right; or, rather, right and wrong- Between whose endless jar justice resides- Should lose their names, and so should justice too Then everything includes itself in power, Power into will, will into appetite; And appetite, an universal wolf, So doubly seconded with will and power, Must make perforce an universal prey, And last eat up himself The general's disdain'd By him one step below, he by the next, That next by him beneath; so ever step, Exampl'd by the first pace that is sick Of his superior, grows to an envious fever Of pale and bloodless emulation to cough and spit And, with a palsy-fumbling on his gorget, Shake in and out the rivet They tax our policy and call it cowardice, Count wisdom as no member of the war, Forestall prescience, and esteem no act But that of hand With surety stronger than Achilles' an Fore all the Greekish heads, which with one voice Call Agamemnon head and general Nor I from Troy come not to whisper with him; I bring a trumpet to awake his ear, To set his sense on the attentive bent, And then to speak [Sound trumpet] We have, great Agamemnon, here in Troy A prince called Hector-Priam is his father- Who in this dull and long-continued truce Is resty grown; he bade me take a trumpet And to this purpose speak There's Ulysses and old Nestor-whose wit was mouldy ere your grandsires had nails on their toes-yoke you like draught oxen, and make you plough up the wars You know an enemy intends you harm; You know a sword employ'd is perilous, And reason flies the object of all harm Who marvels, then, when Helenus beholds A Grecian and his sword, if he do set The very wings of reason to his heels And fly like chidden Mercury from Jove, Or like a star disorb'd? Nay, if we talk of reason, Let's shut our gates and sleep I take to-day a wife, and my election Is led on in the conduct of my will; My will enkindled by mine eyes and ears, Two traded pilots 'twixt the dangerous shores Of will and judgment how may I avoid, Although my will distaste what it elected, The wife I chose? There can be no evasion To blench from this and to stand firm by honour It was thought meet Paris should do some vengeance on the Greeks; Your breath with full consent benied his sails; The seas and winds, old wranglers, took a truce, And did him service He touch'd the ports desir'd; And for an old aunt whom the Greeks held captive He brought a Grecian queen, whose youth and freshness Wrinkles Apollo's, and makes stale the morning Is she worth keeping? Why, she is a pearl Whose price hath launch'd above a thousand ships, And turn'd crown'd kings to merchants If you'll avouch 'twas wisdom Paris went- As you must needs, for you all cried 'Go, go'- If you'll confess he brought home worthy prize- As you must needs, for you all clapp'd your hands, And cried 'Inestimable!' -why do you now The issue of your proper wisdoms rate, And do a deed that never fortune did- Beggar the estimation which you priz'd Richer than sea and land? O theft most base, That we have stol'n what we do fear to keep! But thieves unworthy of a thing so stol'n That in their country did them that disgrace We fear to warrant in our native place! CASSANDRA Why, brother Hector, We may not think the justness of each act Such and no other than event doth form it; Nor once deject the courage of our minds Because Cassandra's mad For my private part, I am no more touch'd than all Priam's sons; And Jove forbid there should be done amongst us Such things as might offend the weakest spleen To fight for and maintain Now, What nearer debt in all humanity Than wife is to the husband? If this law Of nature be corrupted through affection; And that great minds, of partial indulgence To their benumbed wills, resist the same; There is a law in each well-order'd nation To curb those raging appetites that are Most disobedient and refractory Yet, ne'er the less, My spritely brethren, I propend to you In resolution to keep Helen still; For 'tis a cause that hath no mean dependence Upon our joint and several dignities O thou great thunder-darter of Olympus, forget that thou art Jove, the king of gods, and, Mercury, lose all the serpentine craft of thy caduceus, if ye take not that little little less-than-little wit from them that they have! which short-arm'd ignorance itself knows is so abundant scarce, it will not in circumvention deliver a fly from a spider without drawing their massy irons and cutting the web Agamemnon is a fool; Achilles is a fool; Thersites is a fool; and, as aforesaid, Patroclus is a fool Agamemnon is a fool to offer to command Achilles; Achilles is a fool to be commanded of Agamemnon; Thersites is a fool to serve such a fool; and this Patroclus is a fool positive All the argument is a whore and a cuckold-a good quarrel to draw emulous factions and bleed to death upon No, noble Ajax; you are as strong, as valiant, as wise, no less noble, much more gentle, and altogether more tractable He doth rely on none; But carries on the stream of his dispose, Without observance or respect of any, In will peculiar and in self-admission Imagin'd worth Holds in his blood such swol'n and hot discourse That 'twixt his mental and his active parts Kingdom'd Achilles in commotion rages, And batters down himself I will not praise thy wisdom, Which, like a bourn, a pale, a shore, confines Thy spacious and dilated parts To-morrow We must with all our main of power stand fast; And here's a lord-come knights from east to west And cull their flower, Ajax shall cope the best Marry, sir, at the request of Paris my lord, who is there in person; with him the mortal Venus, the heart-blood of beauty, love's invisible soul- PANDARUS Sodden business! There's a stew'd phrase indeed! Enter PARIS and HELEN, attended PANDARUS He eats nothing but doves, love; and that breeds hot blood, and hot blood begets hot thoughts, and hot thoughts beget hot deeds, and hot deeds is love His stubborn buckles, With these your white enchanting fingers touch'd, Shall more obey than to the edge of steel Or force of Greekish sinews; you shall do more Than all the island kings-disarm great Hector O, be thou my Charon, And give me swift transportance to these fields Where I may wallow in the lily beds Propos'd for the deserver! O gentle Pandar, From Cupid's shoulder pluck his painted wings, And fly with me to Cressid! PANDARUS Come, come, what need you blush? Shame's a baby.-Here she is now; swear the oaths now to her that you have sworn to me.- What, are you gone again? You must be watch'd ere you be made tame, must you? Come your ways, come your ways; an you draw backward, we'll put you i' th' fills.-Why do you not speak to her?-Come, draw this curtain and let's see your picture This is the monstruosity in love, lady, that the will is infinite, and the execution confin'd; that the desire is boundless, and the act a slave to limit How were I then uplifted! but, alas, I am as true as truth's simplicity, And simpler than the infancy of truth O virtuous fight, When right with right wars who shall be most right! True swains in love shall in the world to come Approve their truth by Troilus, when their rhymes, Full of protest, of oath, and big compare, Want similes, truth tir'd with iteration- As true as steel, as plantage to the moon, As sun to day, as turtle to her mate, As iron to adamant, as earth to th' centre- Yet, after all comparisons of truth, As truth's authentic author to be cited, 'As true as Troilus' shall crown up the verse And sanctify the numbers Prophet may you be! If I be false, or swerve a hair from truth, When time is old and hath forgot itself, When waterdrops have worn the stones of Troy, And blind oblivion swallow'd cities up, And mighty states characterless are grated To dusty nothing-yet let memory From false to false, among false maids in love, Upbraid my falsehood when th' have said 'As false As air, as water, wind, or sandy earth, As fox to lamb, or wolf to heifer's calf, Pard to the hind, or stepdame to her son'- Yea, let them say, to stick the heart of falsehood, 'As false as Cressid.' PANDARUS If ever you prove false one to another, since I have taken such pains to bring you together, let all pitiful goers- between be call'd to the world's end after my name-call them all Pandars; let all constant men be Troiluses, all false women Cressids, and all brokers between Pandars Please it our general pass strangely by him, As if he were forgot; and, Princes all, Lay negligent and loose regard upon him Pride hath no other glass To show itself but pride; for supple knees Feed arrogance and are the proud man's fees I do not strain at the position- It is familiar-but at the author's drift; Who, in his circumstance, expressly proves That no man is the lord of anything, Though in and of him there be much consisting, Till he communicate his parts to others; Nor doth he of himself know them for aught Till he behold them formed in th' applause Where th' are extended; who, like an arch, reverb'rate The voice again; or, like a gate of steel Fronting the sun, receives and renders back His figure and his heat O heavens, what some men do, While some men leave to do! How some men creep in skittish Fortune's-hall, Whiles others play the idiots in her eyes! How one man eats into another's pride, While pride is fasting in his wantonness! To see these Grecian lords!-why, even already They clap the lubber Ajax on the shoulder, As if his foot were on brave Hector's breast, And great Troy shrinking Keep then the path, For emulation hath a thousand sons That one by one pursue; if you give way, Or hedge aside from the direct forthright, Like to an ent'red tide they all rush by And leave you hindmost; Or, like a gallant horse fall'n in first rank, Lie there for pavement to the abject rear, O'er-run and trampled on O, let not virtue seek Remuneration for the thing it was; For beauty, wit, High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service, Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all To envious and calumniating Time The cry went once on thee, And still it might, and yet it may again, If thou wouldst not entomb thyself alive And case thy reputation in thy tent, Whose glorious deeds but in these fields of late Made emulous missions 'mongst the gods themselves, And drave great Mars to faction I stand condemn'd for this; They think my little stomach to the war And your great love to me restrains you thus 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 For every false drop in her bawdy veins A Grecian's life hath sunk; for every scruple Of her contaminated carrion weight A Troyan hath been slain; since she could speak, She hath not given so many good words breath As for her Greeks and Troyans suff'red death Did not I tell you? Would he were knock'd i' th' head! [One knocks] Who's that at door? Good uncle, go and see Why sigh you so profoundly? Where's my lord? Gone? Tell me, sweet uncle, what's the matter? PANDARUS Good my brother Troilus, Tell you the lady what she is to do And haste her to the purpose We two, that with so many thousand sighs Did buy each other, must poorly sell ourselves With the rude brevity and discharge of one 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 Welcome, Sir Diomed! Here is the lady Which for Antenor we deliver you; At the port, lord, I'll give her to thy hand, And by the way possess thee what she is The lustre in your eye, heaven in your cheek, Pleads your fair usage; and to Diomed You shall be mistress, and command him wholly Give with thy trumpet a loud note to Troy, Thou dreadful Ajax, that the appalled air May pierce the head of the great combatant, And hale him hither But that's no argument for kissing now; For thus popp'd Paris in his hardiment, And parted thus you and your argument Fie, fie upon her! There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip, Nay, her foot speaks; her wanton spirits look out At every joint and motive of her body O these encounters so glib of tongue That give a coasting welcome ere it comes, And wide unclasp the tables of their thoughts To every ticklish reader! Set them down For sluttish spoils of opportunity, And daughters of the game This Ajax is half made of Hector's blood; In love whereof half Hector stays at home; Half heart, half hand, half Hector comes to seek This blended knight, half Troyan and half Greek The worthiest of them tell me name by name; But for Achilles, my own searching eyes Shall find him by his large and portly size Let me embrace thee, good old chronicle, That hast so long walk'd hand in hand with time I shall forestall thee, Lord Ulysses, thou! Now, Hector, I have fed mine eyes on thee; I have with exact view perus'd thee, Hector, And quoted joint by joint O, like a book of sport thou'lt read me o'er; But there's more in me than thou understand'st Henceforth guard thee well; For I'll not kill thee there, nor there, nor there; But, by the forge that stithied Mars his helm, I'll kill thee everywhere, yea, o'er and o'er To-morrow will I wear it on my helm, And grieve his spirit that dares not challenge it O Cressid! O false Cressid! false, false, false! Let all untruths stand by thy stained name, And they'll seem glorious When was my lord so much ungently temper'd To stop his ears against admonishment? Unarm, unarm, and do not fight to-day Consort with me in loud and dear petition, Pursue we him on knees; for I have dreamt Of bloody turbulence, and this whole night Hath nothing been but shapes and forms of slaughter It is as lawful, For we would give much, to use violent thefts And rob in the behalf of charity Let grow thy sinews till their knots be strong, And tempt not yet the brushes of the war Unarm thee, go; and doubt thou not, brave boy, I'll stand to-day for thee and me and Troy When many times the captive Grecian falls, Even in the fan and wind of your fair sword, You bid them rise and live Go in, and cheer the town; we'll forth, and fight, Do deeds worth praise and tell you them at night The gods with safety stand about thee! Exeunt severally PRIAM and HECTOR I would fain see them meet, that that same young Troyan ass that loves the whore there might send that Greekish whoremasterly villain with the sleeve back to the dissembling luxurious drab of a sleeve-less errand Fellow, commend my service to her beauty; Tell her I have chastis'd the amorous Troyan, And am her knight by proof Renew, renew! The fierce Polydamus Hath beat down enon; bastard Margarelon Hath Doreus prisoner, And stands colossus-wise, waving his beam, Upon the pashed corses of the kings Epistrophus and Cedius Polixenes is slain; Amphimacus and Thoas deadly hurt; Patroclus ta'en, or slain; and Palamedes Sore hurt and bruis'd O traitor Diomed! Turn thy false face, thou traitor, And pay thy life thou owest me for my horse [HECTOR falls] So, Ilion, fall thou next! Come, Troy, sink down; Here lies thy heart, thy sinews, and thy bone The dragon wing of night o'erspreads the earth And, stickler-like, the armies separates If in his death the gods have us befriended; Great Troy is ours, and our sharp wars are ended I say at once let your brief plagues be mercy, And linger not our sure destructions on You vile abominable tents, Thus proudly pight upon our Phrygian plains, Let Titan rise as early as he dare, I'll through and through you Ignominy and shame Pursue thy life and live aye with thy name! Exeunt all but PANDARUS PANDARUS A goodly medicine for my aching bones! world! world! thus is the poor agent despis'd! traitors and bawds, how earnestly are you set a work, and how ill requited! Why should our endeavour be so lov'd, and the performance so loathed? What verse for it? What instance for it? Let me see- Full merrily the humble-bee doth sing Till he hath lost his honey and his sting; And being once subdu'd in armed trail, Sweet honey and sweet notes together fail Till then I'll sweat and seek about for eases, And at that time bequeath you my diseases DRAMATIS PERSONAE ORSINO, Duke of Illyria SEBASTIAN, brother of Viola ANTONIO, a sea captain, friend of Sebastian A SEA CAPTAIN, friend of Viola VALENTINE, gentleman attending on the Duke CURIO, gentleman attending on the Duke SIR TOBY BELCH, uncle of Olivia SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK MALVOLIO, steward to Olivia FABIAN, servant to Olivia FESTE, a clown, servant to Olivia OLIVIA, a rich countess VIOLA, sister of Sebastian MARIA, Olivia's waiting woman Lords, Priests, Sailors, Officers, Musicians, and Attendants If music be the food of love, play on, Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken and so die So please my lord, I might not be admitted, But from her handmaid do return this answer The element itself, till seven years' heat, Shall not behold her face at ample view; But like a cloistress she will veiled walk, And water once a day her chamber round With eye-offending brine; all this to season A brother's dead love, which she would keep fresh And lasting in her sad remembrance A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count That died some twelvemonth since, then leaving her In the protection of his son, her brother, Who shortly also died; for whose dear love, They say, she hath abjur'd the company And sight of men 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 Fie that you'll say so! He plays o' th' viol-de-gamboys, and speaks three or four languages word for word without book, and hath all the good gifts of nature With drinking healths to my niece; I'll drink to her as long as there is a passage in my throat and drink in Illyria Excellent; it hangs like flax on a distaff, and I hope to see a huswife take thee between her legs and spin it off As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be, under the degree of my betters; and yet I will not compare with an old man If the Duke continue these favours towards you, Cesario, you are like to be much advanc'd; he hath known you but three days, and already you are no stranger Diana's lip Is not more smooth and rubious; thy small pipe Is as the maiden's organ, shrill and sound, And all is semblative a woman's part 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 Have you any commission from your lord to negotiate with my face? You are now out of your text; but we will draw the curtain and show you the picture 'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on Lady, you are the cruell'st she alive, If you will lead these graces to the grave, And leave the world no copy as- item, two lips indifferent red; item, two grey eyes with lids to them; item, one neck, one chin, and so forth If I did love you in my master's flame, With such a suff'ring, such a deadly life, In your denial I would find no sense; I would not understand it How will this fadge? My master loves her dearly, And I, poor monster, fond as much on him; And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me CLOWN sings O mistress mine, where are you roaming? O, stay and hear; your true love's coming, That can sing both high and low Mistress Mary, if you priz'd my lady's favour at anything more than contempt, you would not give means for this uncivil rule; she shall know of it, by this hand 'Twere as good a deed as to drink when a man's ahungry, to challenge him the field, and then to break promise with him and make a fool of him I can write very like my lady, your niece; on forgotten matter we can hardly make distinction of our hands He shall think, by the letters that thou wilt drop, that they come from my niece, and that she's in love with him Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song, That old and antique song we heard last night; Methought it did relieve my passion much, More than light airs and recollected terms Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times Too old, by heaven! Let still the woman take An elder than herself; so wears she to him, So sways she level in her husband's heart I would have men of such constancy put to sea, that their business might be everything, and their intent everywhere Alas, their love may be call'd appetite- No motion of the liver, but the palate- That suffer surfeit, cloyment, and revolt; But mine is all as hungry as the sea, And can digest as much I am all the daughters of my father's house, And all the brothers too- and yet I know not Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon 'em Thy Fates open their hands; let thy blood and spirit embrace them; and, to inure thyself to what thou art like to be, cast thy humble slough and appear fresh She that would alter services with thee, THE FORTUNATE-UNHAPPY.' Daylight and champain discovers not more I will not give my part of this sport for a pension of thousands to be paid from the Sophy I do live by the church; for I do live at my house, and my house doth stand by the church So thou mayst say the king lies by a beggar, if a beggar dwell near him; or the church stands by thy tabor, if thy tabor stand by the church No, indeed, sir; the Lady Olivia has no folly; she will keep no fool, sir, till she be married; and fools are as like husbands as pilchers are to herrings- the husband's the bigger I did send, After the last enchantment you did here, A ring in chase of you; so did I abuse Myself, my servant, and, I fear me, you She did show favour to the youth in your sight only to exasperate you, to awake your dormouse valour, to put fire in your heart and brimstone in your liver 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 Taunt him with the license of ink; if thou thou'st him some thrice, it shall not be amiss; and as many lies as will lie in thy sheet of paper, although the sheet were big enough for the bed of Ware in England, set 'em down; go about it my desire, More sharp than filed steel, did spur me forth; And not all love to see you- though so much As might have drawn one to a longer voyage- But jealousy what might befall your travel, Being skilless in these parts; which to a stranger, Unguided and unfriended, often prove Rough and unhospitable 'Be opposite with kinsman, surly with servants; let thy tongue tang with arguments of state; put thyself into the trick of singularity' and consequently sets down the manner how, as a sad face, a reverend carriage, a slow tongue, in the habit of some sir of note, and so forth [Reads] 'Fare thee well; and God have mercy upon one of our souls! He may have mercy upon mine; but my hope is better, and so look to thyself You may have very fit occasion for't; he is now in some commerce with my lady, and will by and by depart But, sir, I will deliver his challenge by word of mouth, set upon Aguecheek notable report of valour, and drive the gentleman- as know his youth will aptly receive it- into a most hideous opinion of his rage, skill, fury, and impetuosity Here he comes with your niece; give them way till he take leave, and presently after him Dismount thy tuck, be yare in thy preparation, for thy assailant is quick, skilful, and deadly Souls and bodies hath he divorc'd three; and his incensement at this moment is so implacable that satisfaction can be none but by pangs of death and sepulchre Sir, no; his indignation derives itself out of a very competent injury; therefore, get you on and give him his desire [To SIR TOBY] He is as horribly conceited of him; and pants and looks pale, as if a bear were at his heels Marry, he hath better bethought him of his quarrel, and he finds that now scarce to be worth talking of His dishonesty appears in leaving his friend here in necessity and denying him; and for his cowardship, ask Fabian thou shalt hold th' opinion of Pythagoras ere I will allow of thy wits; and fear to kill a woodcock, lest thou dispossess the soul of thy grandam [Speaking as SIR TOPAS] Malvolio, thy wits the heavens restore! Endeavour thyself to sleep, and leave thy vain bibble-babble I'll follow this good man, and go with you; And, having sworn truth, ever will be true Put your grace in your pocket, sir, for this once, and let your flesh and blood obey it A baubling vessel was he captain of, For shallow draught and bulk unprizable, With which such scathful grapple did he make With the most noble bottom of our fleet That very envy and the tongue of los Cried fame and honour on him To-day, my lord; and for three months before, No int'rim, not a minute's vacancy, Both day and night did we keep company Enter PRIEST O, welcome, father! Father, I charge thee, by thy reverence, Here to unfold- though lately we intended To keep in darkness what occasion now Reveals before 'tis ripe- what thou dost know Hath newly pass'd between this youth and me O thou dissembling cub! What wilt thou be, When time hath sow'd a grizzle on thy case? Or will not else thy craft so quickly grow That thine own trip shall be thine overthrow? Farewell, and take her; but direct thy feet Where thou and I henceforth may never meet Od's lifelings, here he is! You broke my head for nothing; and that that did, I was set on to do't by Sir Toby 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 One face, one voice, one habit, and two persons! A natural perspective, that is and is not Do I stand there? I never had a brother; Nor can there be that deity in my nature Of here and everywhere You would have been contracted to a maid; Nor are you therein, by my life, deceiv'd; You are betroth'd both to a maid and man He, upon some action, Is now in durance, at Malvolio's suit, A gentleman and follower of my lady's So I do, madonna; but to read his right wits is to read thus; therefore perpend, my Princess, and give ear Exit FABIAN My lord, so please you, these things further thought on, To think me as well a sister as a wife, One day shall crown th' alliance on't, so please you, Here at my house, and at my proper cost Alas, Malvolio, this is not my writing, Though, I confess, much like the character; But out of question 'tis Maria's hand Cesario, come; For so you shall be while you are a man; But when in other habits you are seen, Orsino's mistress, and his fancy's queen A great while ago the world begun, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, But that's all one, our play is done, And we'll strive to please you every day And writers say, as the most forward bud Is eaten by the canker ere it blow, Even so by love the young and tender wit Is turn'd to folly, blasting in the bud, Losing his verdure even in the prime, And all the fair effects of future hopes 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 Now, by my modesty, a goodly broker! Dare you presume to harbour wanton lines? To whisper and conspire against my youth? Now, trust me, 'tis an office of great worth, And you an officer fit for the place What fool is she, that knows I am a maid And would not force the letter to my view! Since maids, in modesty, say 'No' to that Which they would have the profferer construe 'Ay.' Fie, fie, how wayward is this foolish love, That like a testy babe will scratch the nurse, And presently, all humbled, kiss the rod! How churlishly I chid Lucetta hence, When willingly I would have had her here! How angerly I taught my brow to frown, When inward joy enforc'd my heart to smile! My penance is to call Lucetta back And ask remission for my folly past I would it were, That you might kill your stomach on your meat And not upon your maid Here is a coil with protestation! [Tears the letter] Go, get you gone; and let the papers lie 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 Be calm, good wind, blow not a word away Till I have found each letter in the letter- Except mine own name; that some whirlwind bear Unto a ragged, fearful, hanging rock, And throw it thence into the raging sea I have consider'd well his loss of time, And how he cannot be a perfect man, Not being tried and tutor'd in the world There shall he practise tilts and tournaments, Hear sweet discourse, converse with noblemen, And be in eye of every exercise Worthy his youth and nobleness of birth To-morrow, may it please you, Don Alphonso With other gentlemen of good esteem Are journeying to salute the Emperor, And to commend their service to his will Thus have I shunn'd the fire for fear of burning, And drench'd me in the sea, where I am drown'd my heart accords thereto; And yet a thousand times it answers 'No.' Exeunt Now trust me, madam, it came hardly off; For, being ignorant to whom it goes, I writ at random, very doubtfully A pretty period! Well, I guess the sequel; And yet I will not name it- and yet I care not And when it's writ, for my sake read it over; And if it please you, so; if not, why, so Now, sir, this staff is my sister, for, look you, she is as white as a lily and as small as a wand; this hat is Nan our maid; I am the dog; no, the dog is himself, and I am the dog- O, the dog is me, and I am myself; ay, so, so O that she could speak now like a wood woman! Well, I kiss her- why there 'tis; here's my mother's breath up and down Ay, my good lord, I know the gentleman To be of worth and worthy estimation, And not without desert so well reputed I knew him as myself; for from our infancy We have convers'd and spent our hours together; And though myself have been an idle truant, Omitting the sweet benefit of time To clothe mine age with angel-like perfection, Yet hath Sir Proteus, for that's his name, Made use and fair advantage of his days Well, sir, this gentleman is come to me With commendation from great potentates, And here he means to spend his time awhile Ay, Proteus, but that life is alter'd now; I have done penance for contemning Love, Whose high imperious thoughts have punish'd me With bitter fasts, with penitential groans, With nightly tears, and daily heart-sore sighs; For, in revenge of my contempt of love, Love hath chas'd sleep from my enthralled eyes And made them watchers of mine own heart's sorrow She shall be dignified with this high honour- To bear my lady's train, lest the base earth Should from her vesture chance to steal a kiss And, of so great a favour growing proud, Disdain to root the summer-swelling flow'r And make rough winter everlastingly Not for the world! Why, man, she is mine own; And I as rich in having such a jewel As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl, The water nectar, and the rocks pure gold Ay, and we are betroth'd; nay more, our marriage-hour, With all the cunning manner of our flight, Determin'd of- how I must climb her window, The ladder made of cords, and all the means Plotted and 'greed on for my happiness Go on before; I shall enquire you forth; I must unto the road to disembark Some necessaries that I needs must use; And then I'll presently attend you Come on, you madcap; I'll to the alehouse with you presently; where, for one shot of five pence, thou shalt have five thousand welcomes If he say ay, it will; if he say no, it will; if he shake his tail and say nothing, it will If thou wilt, go with me to the alehouse; if not, thou art an Hebrew, a Jew, and not worth the name of a Christian Lucetta, as thou lov'st me, let me have What thou think'st meet, and is most mannerly But tell me, wench, how will the world repute me For undertaking so unstaid a journey? I fear me it will make me scandaliz'd Proteus, I thank thee for thine honest care, Which to requite, command me while I live And, that thou mayst perceive my fear of this, Knowing that tender youth is soon suggested, I nightly lodge her in an upper tow'r, The key whereof myself have ever kept; And thence she cannot be convey'd away Please it your Grace, there is a messenger That stays to bear my letters to my friends, And I am going to deliver them No, trust me; she is peevish, sullen, froward, Proud, disobedient, stubborn, lacking duty; Neither regarding that she is my child Nor fearing me as if I were her father; And, may I say to thee, this pride of hers, Upon advice, hath drawn my love from her; And, where I thought the remnant of mine age Should have been cherish'd by her childlike duty, I now am full resolv'd to take a wife And turn her out to who will take her in There is a lady, in Verona here, Whom I affect; but she is nice, and coy, And nought esteems my aged eloquence Why then a ladder, quaintly made of cords, To cast up with a pair of anchoring hooks, Would serve to scale another Hero's tow'r, So bold Leander would adventure it [Reads] 'My thoughts do harbour with my Silvia nightly, And slaves they are to me, that send them flying I curse myself, for they are sent by me, That they should harbour where their lord should be.' What's here? 'Silvia, this night I will enfranchise thee.' 'Tis so; and here's the ladder for the purpose What light is light, if Silvia be not seen? What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by? Unless it be to think that she is by, And feed upon the shadow of perfection That thou art banished- O, that's the news!- From hence, from Silvia, and from me thy friend Cease to lament for that thou canst not help, And study help for that which thou lament'st Hope is a lover's staff; walk hence with that, And manage it against despairing thoughts I pray thee, Launce, an if thou seest my boy, Bid him make haste and meet me at the Northgate He lives not now that knows me to be in love; yet I am in love; but a team of horse shall not pluck that from me; nor who 'tis I love; and yet 'tis a woman; but what woman I will not tell myself; and yet 'tis a milkmaid; yet 'tis not a maid, for she hath had gossips; yet 'tis a maid, for she is her master's maid and serves for wages That's as much as to say 'bastard virtues'; that indeed know not their fathers, and therefore have no names This weak impress of love is as a figure Trenched in ice, which with an hour's heat Dissolves to water and doth lose his form Thou know'st how willingly I would effect The match between Sir Thurio and my daughter And, Proteus, we dare trust you in this kind, Because we know, on Valentine's report, You are already Love's firm votary And cannot soon revolt and change your mind Upon this warrant shall you have access Where you with Silvia may confer at large- For she is lumpish, heavy, melancholy, And, for your friend's sake, will be glad of you- Where you may temper her by your persuasion To hate young Valentine and love my friend Say that upon the altar of her beauty You sacrifice your tears, your sighs, your heart; Write till your ink be dry, and with your tears Moist it again, and frame some feeling line That may discover such integrity; For Orpheus' lute was strung with poets' sinews, Whose golden touch could soften steel and stones, Make tigers tame, and huge leviathans Forsake unsounded deeps to dance on sands Stand, sir, and throw us that you have about ye; If not, we'll make you sit, and rifle you Then know that I have little wealth to lose; A man I am cross'd with adversity; My riches are these poor habiliments, Of which if you should here disfurnish me, You take the sum and substance that I have Know, then, that some of us are gentlemen, Such as the fury of ungovern'd youth Thrust from the company of awful men; Myself was from Verona banished For practising to steal away a lady, An heir, and near allied unto the Duke When I protest true loyalty to her, She twits me with my falsehood to my friend; When to her beauty I commend my vows, She bids me think how I have been forsworn In breaking faith with Julia whom I lov'd; And notwithstanding all her sudden quips, The least whereof would quell a lover's hope, Yet, spaniel-like, the more she spurns my love The more it grows and fawneth on her still Come, we'll have you merry; I'll bring you where you shall hear music, and see the gentleman that you ask'd for Love doth to her eyes repair, To help him of his blindness; And, being help'd, inhabits there Gone to seek his dog, which to-morrow, by his master's command, he must carry for a present to his lady Thou subtle, perjur'd, false, disloyal man, Think'st thou I am so shallow, so conceitless, To be seduced by thy flattery That hast deceiv'd so many with thy vows? Return, return, and make thy love amends Madam, if your heart be so obdurate, Vouchsafe me yet your picture for my love, The picture that is hanging in your chamber; To that I'll speak, to that I'll sigh and weep; For, since the substance of your perfect self Is else devoted, I am but a shadow; And to your shadow will I make true love [Aside] If 'twere a substance, you would, sure, deceive it And make it but a shadow, as I am I am very loath to be your idol, sir; But since your falsehood shall become you well To worship shadows and adore false shapes, Send to me in the morning, and I'll send it; And so, good rest As many, worthy lady, to yourself! According to your ladyship's impose, I am thus early come to know what service It is your pleasure to command me in Sir Eglamour, I would to Valentine, To Mantua, where I hear he makes abode; And, for the ways are dangerous to pass, I do desire thy worthy company, Upon whose faith and honour I repose 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 I have taught him, even as one would say precisely 'Thus I would teach a dog.' I was sent to deliver him as a present to Mistress Silvia from my master; and I came no sooner into the dining-chamber, but he steps me to her trencher and steals her capon's leg I, having been acquainted with the smell before, knew it was Crab, and goes me to the fellow that whips the dogs Sebastian is thy name? I like thee well, And will employ thee in some service presently Your message done, hie home unto my chamber, Where thou shalt find me sad and solitary Her eyes are grey as glass, and so are mine; Ay, but her forehead's low, and mine's as high 'Tis true; for Friar Lawrence met them both As he in penance wander'd through the forest; Him he knew well, and guess'd that it was she, But, being mask'd, he was not sure of it; Besides, she did intend confession At Patrick's cell this even; and there she was not Come, I must bring you to our captain's cave; Fear not; he bears an honourable mind, And will not use a woman lawlessly Here can I sit alone, unseen of any, And to the nightingale's complaining notes Tune my distresses and record my woes Madam, this service I have done for you, Though you respect not aught your servant doth, To hazard life, and rescue you from him That would have forc'd your honour and your love Vouchsafe me, for my meed, but one fair look; A smaller boon than this I cannot beg, And less than this, I am sure, you cannot give Nay, if the gentle spirit of moving words Can no way change you to a milder form, I'll woo you like a soldier, at arms' end, And love you 'gainst the nature of love- force ye The more degenerate and base art thou To make such means for her as thou hast done And leave her on such slight conditions Now, by the honour of my ancestry, I do applaud thy spirit, Valentine, And think thee worthy of an empress' love These banish'd men, that I have kept withal, Are men endu'd with worthy qualities; Forgive them what they have committed here, And let them be recall'd from their exile Believe me, I speak as my understanding instructs me and as mine honesty puts it to utterance My affairs Do even drag me homeward; which to hinder Were in your love a whip to me; my stay To you a charge and trouble Will go yet? Force me to keep you as a prisoner, Not like a guest; so you shall pay your fees When you depart, and save your thanks We were, fair Queen, Two lads that thought there was no more behind But such a day to-morrow as to-day, And to be boy eternal Grace to boot! Of this make no conclusion, lest you say Your queen and I are devils This entertainment May a free face put on; derive a liberty From heartiness, from bounty, fertile bosom, And well become the agent Thou dost make possible things not so held, Communicat'st with dreams- how can this be?- With what's unreal thou coactive art, And fellow'st nothing Then 'tis very credent Thou mayst co-join with something; and thou dost- And that beyond commission; and I find it, And that to the infection of my brains And hard'ning of my brows Physic for't there's none; It is a bawdy planet, that will strike Where 'tis predominant; and 'tis pow'rfull, think it, From east, west, north, and south thou art not honest; or, If thou inclin'st that way, thou art a coward, Which hoxes honesty behind, restraining From course requir'd; or else thou must be counted A servant grafted in my serious trust, And therein negligent; or else a fool That seest a game play'd home, the rich stake drawn, And tak'st it all for jest I do; and will fetch off Bohemia for't; Provided that, when he's remov'd, your Highness Will take again your queen as yours at first, Even for your son's sake; and thereby for sealing The injury of tongues in courts and kingdoms Known and allied to yours My lord, Go then; and with a countenance as clear As friendship wears at feasts, keep with Bohemia And with your queen Do you know, and dare not Be intelligent to me? 'Tis thereabouts; For, to yourself, what you do know, you must, And cannot say you dare not Therefore mark my counsel, Which must be ev'n as swiftly followed as I mean to utter it, or both yourself and me Cry lost, and so goodnight Swear his thought over By each particular star in heaven and By all their influences, you may as well Forbid the sea for to obey the moon As or by oath remove or counsel shake The fabric of his folly, whose foundation Is pil'd upon his faith and will continue The standing of his body By his great authority; Which often hath no less prevail'd than so On your command O thou thing! Which I'll not call a creature of thy place, Lest barbarism, making me the precedent, Should a like language use to all degrees And mannerly distinguishment leave out Betwixt the prince and beggar These dangerous unsafe lunes i' th' King, beshrew them! He must be told on't, and he shall Most worthy madam, Your honour and your goodness is so evident That your free undertaking cannot miss A thriving issue; there is no lady living So meet for this great errand To see his nobleness! Conceiving the dishonour of his mother, He straight declin'd, droop'd, took it deeply, Fasten'd and fix'd the shame on't in himself, Threw off his spirit, his appetite, his sleep, And downright languish'd [Exit SERVANT] Fie, fie! no thought of him! The very thought of my revenges that way Recoil upon me- in himself too mighty, And in his parties, his alliance Behold, my lords, Although the print be little, the whole matter And copy of the father- eye, nose, lip, The trick of's frown, his forehead; nay, the valley, The pretty dimples of his chin and cheek; his smiles; The very mould and frame of hand, nail, finger I'll not call you tyrant But this most cruel usage of your Queen- Not able to produce more accusation Than your own weak-hing'd fancy- something savours Of tyranny, and will ignoble make you, Yea, scandalous to the world Even thou, that hast A heart so tender o'er it, take it hence, And see it instantly consum'd with fire; Even thou, and none but thou We enjoin thee, As thou art liegeman to us, that thou carry This female bastard hence; and that thou bear it To some remote and desert place, quite out Of our dominions; and that there thou leave it, Without more mercy, to it own protection And favour of the climate Prepare you, lords; Summon a session, that we may arraign Our most disloyal lady; for, as she hath Been publicly accus'd, so shall she have A just and open trial [Reads] 'Hermione, Queen to the worthy Leontes, King of Sicilia, thou art here accused and arraigned of high treason, in committing adultery with Polixenes, King of Bohemia; and conspiring with Camillo to take away the life of our sovereign lord the King, thy royal husband You, my lord, best know- Who least will seem to do so- my past life Hath been as continent, as chaste, as true, As I am now unhappy; which is more Than history can pattern, though devis'd And play'd to take spectators; for behold me- A fellow of the royal bed, which owe A moiety of the throne, a great king's daughter, The mother to a hopeful prince- here standing To prate and talk for life and honour fore Who please to come and hear For life, I prize it As I weigh grief, which I would spare; for honour, 'Tis a derivative from me to mine, And only that I stand for no life, I prize it not a straw, but for mine honour Which I would free- if I shall be condemn'd Upon surmises, all proofs sleeping else But what your jealousies awake, I tell you 'Tis rigour, and not law For, being transported by my jealousies To bloody thoughts and to revenge, I chose Camillo for the minister to poison My friend Polixenes; which had been done But that the good mind of Camillo tardied My swift command, though I with death and with Reward did threaten and encourage him, Not doing it and being done That thou betray'dst Polixenes, 'twas nothing; That did but show thee, of a fool, inconstant, And damnable ingrateful Ay, my lord, and fear We have landed in ill time; the skies look grimly And threaten present blusters In my conscience, The heavens with that we have in hand are angry And frown upon 's Affrighted much, I did in time collect myself, and thought This was so and no slumber Blossom, speed thee well! [Laying down the child] There lie, and there thy character; there these [Laying down a bundle] Which may, if fortune please, both breed thee, pretty, And still rest thine What, art so near? If thou'lt see a thing to talk on when thou art dead and rotten, come hither I have seen two such sights, by sea and by land! But I am not to say it is a sea, for it is now the sky; betwixt the firmament and it you cannot thrust a bodkin's point Impute it not a crime To me or my swift passage that I slide O'er sixteen years, and leave the growth untried Of that wide gap, since it is in my pow'r To o'erthrow law, and in one self-born hour To plant and o'erwhelm custom If tinkers may have leave to live, And bear the sow-skin budget, Then my account I well may give And in the stocks avouch it She hath made me four and twenty nosegays for the shearers- three-man song-men all, and very good ones; but they are most of them means and bases; but one Puritan amongst them, and he sings psalms to hornpipes I must have saffron to colour the warden pies; mace; dates- none, that's out of my note; nutmegs, seven; race or two of ginger, but that I may beg; four pound of prunes, and as many of raisins o' th' sun O sir, the loathsomeness of them offend me more than the stripes I have received, which are mighty ones and millions I am robb'd, sir, and beaten; my money and apparel ta'en from me, and these detestable things put upon me Not a more cowardly rogue in all Bohemia; if you had but look'd big and spit at him, he'd have run I must confess to you, sir, I am no fighter; I am false of heart that way, and that he knew, I warrant him This your sheep-shearing Is as a meeting of the petty gods, And you the Queen on't Reverend sirs, For you there's rosemary and rue; these keep Seeming and savour all the winter long Out, alas! You'd be so lean that blasts of January Would blow you through and through No; like a bank for love to lie and play on; Not like a corse; or if- not to be buried, But quick, and in mine arms When you do dance, I wish you A wave o' th' sea, that you might ever do Nothing but that; move still, still so, And own no other function They call him Doricles, and boasts himself To have a worthy feeding; but I have it Upon his own report, and I believe it I love a ballad but even too well, if it be doleful matter merrily set down, or a very pleasant thing indeed and sung lamentably Why he sings 'em over as they were gods or goddesses; you would think a smock were she-angel, he so chants to the sleeve-hand and the work about the square on't If I were not in love with Mopsa, thou shouldst take no money of me; but being enthrall'd as I am, it will also be the bondage of certain ribbons and gloves how a usurer's wife was brought to bed of twenty money-bags at a burden, and how she long'd to eat adders' heads and toads carbonado'd Here's the midwife's name to't, one Mistress Taleporter, and five or six honest wives that were present We'll have this song out anon by ourselves; my father and the gentlemen are in sad talk, and we'll not trouble them One three of them, by their own report, sir, hath danc'd before the King; and not the worst of the three but jumps twelve foot and a half by th' squier What follows this? How prettily the young swain seems to wash The hand was fair before! I have put you out This dream of mine- Being now awake, I'll queen it no inch farther, But milk my ewes and weep 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 If your more ponderous and settled project May suffer alteration, on mine honour, I'll point you where you shall have such receiving As shall become your Highness; where you may Enjoy your mistress, from the whom, I see, There's no disjunction to be made but by, As heavens forfend! your ruin- marry her; And with my best endeavours in your absence Your discontenting father strive to qualify, And bring him up to liking How, Camillo, May this, almost a miracle, be done? That I may call thee something more than man, And after that trust to thee Sir, The manner of your bearing towards him, with What you as from your father shall deliver, Things known betwixt us three, I'll write you down; The which shall point you forth at every sitting What you must say, that he shall not perceive But that you have your father's bosom there And speak his very heart They throng who should buy first, as if my trinkets had been hallowed and brought a benediction to the buyer; by which means I saw whose purse was best in picture; and what I saw, to my good use I rememb'red 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 What an exchange had this been without boot! What a boot is here with this exchange! Sure, the gods do this year connive at us, and we may do anything extempore Seest thou not the air of the court in these enfoldings? Hath not my gait in it the measure of the court? Receives not thy nose court-odour from me? Reflect I not on thy baseness court-contempt? Think'st thou, for that I insinuate, that toaze from thee thy business, I am therefore no courtier? I am courtier cap-a-pe, and one that will either push on or pluck back thy business there; whereupon I command the to open thy affair Walk before toward the sea-side; go on the right-hand; I will but look upon the hedge, and follow you His approach, So out of circumstance and sudden, tells us 'Tis not a visitation fram'd, but forc'd By need and accident By his command Have I here touch'd Sicilia, and from him Give you all greetings that a king, at friend, Can send his brother; and, but infirmity, Which waits upon worn times, hath something seiz'd His wish'd ability, he had himself The lands and waters 'twixt your throne and his Measur'd, to look upon you; whom he loves, He bade me say so, more than all the sceptres And those that bear them living Upon which errand I now go toward him; therefore, follow me, And mark what way I make Like an old tale still, which will have matter to rehearse, though credit be asleep and not an ear open This avouches the shepherd's son, who has not only his innocence, which seems much, to justify him, but a handkerchief and rings of his that Paulina knows But, O, the noble combat that 'twixt joy and sorrow was fought in Paulina! She had one eye declin'd for the loss of her husband, another elevated that the oracle was fulfill'd The dignity of this act was worth the audience of kings and princes; for by such was it acted So you have; but I was a gentleman born before my father; for the King's son took me by the hand and call'd me brother; and then the two kings call'd my father brother; and then the Prince, my brother, and the Princess, my sister, call'd my father father Her natural posture! Chide me, dear stone, that I may say indeed Thou art Hermione; or rather, thou art she In thy not chiding; for she was as tender As infancy and grace And give me leave, And do not say 'tis superstition that I kneel, and then implore her blessing I'll not seek far- For him, I partly know his mind- to find thee An honourable husband 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 Upon her head a platted hive of straw, Which fortified her visage from the sun, Whereon the thought might think sometime it saw The carcase of a beauty spent and done Oft did she heave her napkin to her eyne, Which on it had conceited characters, Laund'ring the silken figures in the brine That seasoned woe had pelleted in tears, And often reading what contents it bears; As often shrieking undistinguished woe, In clamours of all size, both high and low Sometimes her levelled eyes their carriage ride, As they did batt'ry to the spheres intend; Sometime diverted their poor balls are tied To th' orbed earth; sometimes they do extend Their view right on; anon their gazes lend To every place at once, and nowhere fixed, The mind and sight distractedly commixed Of folded schedules had she many a one, Which she perused, sighed, tore, and gave the flood; Cracked many a ring of posied gold and bone, Bidding them find their sepulchres in mud; Found yet moe letters sadly penned in blood, With sleided silk feat and affectedly Enswathed and sealed to curious secrecy A reverend man that grazed his cattle nigh, Sometime a blusterer that the ruffle knew Of court, of city, and had let go by The swiftest hours observed as they flew, Towards this afflicted fancy fastly drew; And, privileged by age, desires to know In brief the grounds and motives of her woe I might as yet have been a spreading flower, Fresh to myself, if I had self-applied Love to myself, and to no love beside Love lacked a dwelling and made him her place; And when in his fair parts she did abide, She was new lodged and newly deified 'So on the tip of his subduing tongue All kind of arguments and question deep, All replication prompt, and reason strong, For his advantage still did wake and sleep Consents bewitched, ere he desire, have granted, And dialogued for him what he would say, Asked their own wills, and made their wills obey 'Many there were that did his picture get, To serve their eyes, and in it put their mind; Like fools that in th' imagination set The goodly objects which abroad they find Of lands and mansions, theirs in thought assigned; And labouring in moe pleasures to bestow them Than the true gouty landlord which doth owe them My woeful self, that did in freedom stand, And was my own fee-simple, not in part, What with his art in youth, and youth in art, Threw my affections in his charmed power Reserved the stalk and gave him all my flower Experience for me many bulwarks builded Of proofs new-bleeding, which remained the foil Of this false jewel, and his amorous spoil O appetite, from judgement stand aloof! The one a palate hath that needs will taste, Though Reason weep, and cry it is thy last 'For further I could say this man's untrue, And knew the patterns of his foul beguiling; Heard where his plants in others' orchards grew; Saw how deceits were gilded in his smiling; Knew vows were ever brokers to defiling; Thought characters and words merely but art, And bastards of his foul adulterate heart "Gentle maid, Have of my suffering youth some feeling pity, And be not of my holy vows afraid Harm have I done to them, but ne'er was harmed; Kept hearts in liveries, but mine own was free, And reigned commanding in his monarchy '"And, lo, behold these talents of their hair, With twisted metal amorously empleached, I have receiv'd from many a several fair, Their kind acceptance weepingly beseeched, With the annexions of fair gems enriched, And deep-brained sonnets that did amplify Each stone's dear nature, worth, and quality '"But, O my sweet, what labour is't to leave The thing we have not, mast'ring what not strives, Playing the place which did no form receive, Playing patient sports in unconstrained gyves! She that her fame so to herself contrives, The scars of battle scapeth by the flight, And makes her absence valiant, not her might '"O pardon me in that my boast is true! The accident which brought me to her eye Upon the moment did her force subdue, And now she would the caged cloister fly '"How mighty then you are, O hear me tell! The broken bosoms that to me belong Have emptied all their fountains in my well, And mine I pour your ocean all among '"My parts had pow'r to charm a sacred nun, Who, disciplined, ay, dieted in grace, Believed her eyes when they t'assail begun, All vows and consecrations giving place, O most potential love, vow, bond, nor space, In thee hath neither sting, knot, nor confine, For thou art all, and all things else are thine And sweetens, in the suff'ring pangs it bears, The aloes of all forces, shocks and fears 'O father, what a hell of witchcraft lies In the small orb of one particular tear! But with the inundation of the eyes What rocky heart to water will not wear? What breast so cold that is not warmed here? O cleft effect! cold modesty, hot wrath, Both fire from hence and chill extincture hath 'In him a plenitude of subtle matter, Applied to cautels, all strange forms receives, Of burning blushes or of weeping water, Or swooning paleness; and he takes and leaves, In either's aptness, as it best deceives, To blush at speeches rank, to weep at woes, Or to turn white and swoon at tragic shows; 'That not a heart which in his level came Could scape the hail of his all-hurting aim, Showing fair nature is both kind and tame; And, veiled in them, did win whom he would maim Against the thing he sought he would exclaim; When he most burned in heart-wished luxury, He preached pure maid and praised cold chastity 'O, that infected moisture of his eye, O, that false fire which in his cheek so glowed, O, that forced thunder from his heart did fly, O, that sad breath his spongy lungs bestowed, O, all that borrowed motion, seeming owed, Would yet again betray the fore-betrayed, And new pervert a reconciled maid.' Quotes for: Shakespeare Quotes
Source: Project Gutenburg Texts
|
|
Copyright © 2010