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Shakespeare quotes on menThat this huge stage presenteth nought but shows Whereon the stars in secret influence comment So should the lines of life that life repair Which this (Time's pencil) or my pupil pen Neither in inward worth Source: THE SONNETS But I forbid thee one most heinous crime, O carve not with thy hours my love's fair brow, Nor draw no lines there with thine antique pen, Him in thy course untainted do allow, For beauty's pattern to succeeding men 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 Compare them with the bett'ring of the time, And though they be outstripped by every pen, Reserve them for my love, not for their rhyme, Exceeded by the height of happier men For to thy sensual fault I bring in sense, Thy adverse party is thy advocate, And 'gainst my self a lawful plea commence 69 Those parts of thee that the world's eye doth view, Want nothing that the thought of hearts can mend All tongues (the voice of souls) give thee that due, Uttering bare truth, even so as foes commend 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 Your name from hence immortal life shall have, Though I (once gone) to all the world must die, The earth can yield me but a common grave, When you entombed in men's eyes shall lie, Your monument shall be my gentle verse, Which eyes not yet created shall o'er-read, And tongues to be, your being shall Source: THE SONNETS Thy self thou gav'st, thy own worth then not knowing, Or me to whom thou gav'st it, else mistaking, So thy great gift upon misprision growing, Comes home again, on better judgement making 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 91 Some glory in their birth, some in their skill, Some in their wealth, some in their body's force, Some in their garments though new-fangled ill 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 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 All this the world well knows yet none knows well, To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell And to be sure that is not false I swear, A thousand groans but thinking on thy face, One on another's neck do witness bear Thy black is fairest in my judgment's place 133 Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan For that deep wound it gives my friend and me; Is't not enough to torture me alone, But slave to slavery my sweet'st friend must be? Me from my self thy cruel eye hath taken, And my next self thou harder hast engrossed, Of him, my self, and thee I am forsaken, A torment thrice three-fold thus to be crossed 148 O me! what eyes hath love put in my head, Which have no correspondence with true sight, Or if they have, where is my judgment fled, That censures falsely what they see aright? If that be fair whereon my false eyes dote, What means the world to say it is not so? If it be not, then love doth well denote, Love's eye is not so true as all men's One in ten, quoth 'a! An we might have a good woman born before every blazing star, or at an earthquake, 'twould mend the lottery well It is not so with Him that all things knows, As 'tis with us that square our guess by shows; But most it is presumption in us when The help of heaven we count the act of men He that cannot make a leg, put off's cap, kiss his hand, and say nothing, has neither leg, hands, lip, nor cap; and indeed such a fellow, to say precisely, were not for the court; but for me, I have an answer will serve all men give Helen this, And urge her to a present answer back; Commend me to my kinsmen and my son Ambitious love hath so in me offended That barefoot plod I the cold ground upon, With sainted vow my faults to have amended Believe it, my lord, in mine own direct knowledge, without any malice, but to speak of him as my kinsman, he's a most notable coward, an infinite and endless liar, an hourly promise-breaker, the owner of no one good quality worthy your lordship's entertainment Be but your lordship present at his examination; if he do not, for the promise of his life and in the highest compulsion of base fear, offer to betray you and deliver all the intelligence in his power against you, and that with the divine forfeit of his soul upon oath, never trust my judgment in anything When your lordship sees the bottom of his success in't, and to what metal this counterfeit lump of ore will be melted, if you give him not John Drum's entertainment, your inclining cannot be removed I would gladly have him see his company anatomiz'd, that he might take a measure of his own judgments, wherein so curiously he had set this counterfeit He will steal, sir, an egg out of a cloister; for rapes and ravishments he parallels Nessus So please your Majesty, my master hath been an honourable gentleman; tricks he hath had in him, which gentlemen have Cleopatra, catching but the least noise of this, dies instantly; I have seen her die twenty times upon far poorer moment If there were no more women but Fulvia, then had you indeed a cut, and the case to be lamented 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 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 By Isis, I will give thee bloody teeth If thou with Caesar paragon again My man of men May I never To this good purpose, that so fairly shows, Dream of impediment! Let me have thy hand [Aside to MENAS] Go, hang, sir, hang! Tell me of that! Away! Do as I bid you.- Where's this cup I call'd for? MENAS We should have met you By sea and land, supplying every stage With an augmented greeting That he should dream, Knowing all measures, the full Caesar will Answer his emptiness! Caesar, thou hast subdu'd His judgment too And if to-morrow Our navy thrive, I have an absolute hope Our landmen will stand up Through Alexandria make a jolly march; Bear our hack'd targets like the men that owe them My lord! O, wither'd is the garland of the war, The soldier's pole is fall'n! Young boys and girls Are level now with men High events as these Strike those that make them; and their story is No less in pity than his glory which Brought them to be lamented I would we could do so; for her benefits are mightily misplaced; and the bountiful blind woman doth most mistake in her gifts to women To-day my Lord of Amiens and myself Did steal behind him as he lay along Under an oak whose antique root peeps out Upon the brook that brawls along this wood! To the which place a poor sequest'red stag, That from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt, Did come to languish; and, indeed, my lord, The wretched animal heav'd forth such groans That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat Almost to bursting; and the big round tears Cours'd one another down his innocent nose In piteous chase; and thus the hairy fool, Much marked of the melancholy Jaques, Stood on th' extremest verge of the swift brook, Augmenting it with tears 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 'Tis not her glass, but you, that flatters her; And out of you she sees herself more proper Than any of her lineaments can show her If that an eye may profit by a tongue, Then should I know you by description- Such garments, and such years O, I have heard him speak of that same brother; And he did render him the most unnatural That liv'd amongst men 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 With her I liv'd in joy; our wealth increas'd By prosperous voyages I often made To Epidamnum; till my factor's death, And the great care of goods at random left, Drew me from kind embracements of my spouse Her part, poor soul, seeming as burdened With lesser weight, but not with lesser woe, Was carried with more speed before the wind; And in our sight they three were taken up By fishermen of Corinth, as we thought Five summers have I spent in farthest Greece, Roaming clean through the bounds of Asia, And, coasting homeward, came to Ephesus; Hopeless to find, yet loath to leave unsought Or that or any place that harbours men A devil in an everlasting garment hath him; One whose hard heart is button'd up with steel; A fiend, a fairy, pitiless and rough; A wolf, nay worse, a fellow all in buff; A back-friend, a shoulder-clapper, one that countermands The passages of alleys, creeks, and narrow lands; A hound that runs counter, and yet draws dry-foot well; One that, before the Judgment, carries poor souls to hell Brought to this town by that most famous warrior, Duke Menaphon, your most renowned uncle For your wants, Your suffering in this dearth, you may as well Strike at the heaven with your staves as lift them Against the Roman state; whose course will on The way it takes, cracking ten thousand curbs Of more strong link asunder than can ever Appear in your impediment Your belly's answer- What? The kingly crowned head, the vigilant eye, The counsellor heart, the arm our soldier, Our steed the leg, the tongue our trumpeter, With other muniments and petty helps Is this our fabric, if that they- MENENIUS What's the matter That in these several places of the city You cry against the noble Senate, who, Under the gods, keep you in awe, which else Would feed on one another? What's their seeking? MENENIUS Hang 'em! They said they were an-hungry; sigh'd forth proverbs- That hunger broke stone walls, that dogs must eat, That meat was made for mouths, that the gods sent not Corn for the rich men only If my son were my husband, I should freelier rejoice in that absence wherein he won honour than in the embracements of his bed where he would show most love Please you to march; And four shall quickly draw out my command, Which men are best inclin'd A public place Enter MENENIUS, with the two Tribunes of the people, SICINIUS and BRUTUS MENENIUS Yet you must be saying Marcius is proud; who, in a cheap estimation, is worth all your predecessors since Deucalion; though peradventure some of the best of 'em were hereditary hangmen 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 Enter the PATRICIANS and the TRIBUNES OF THE PEOPLE, LICTORS before them; CORIOLANUS, MENENIUS, COMINIUS the Consul To brag unto them 'Thus I did, and thus!' Show them th' unaching scars which I should hide, As if I had receiv'd them for the hire Of their breath only! MENENIUS 'Look, sir, my wounds I got them in my country's service, when Some certain of your brethren roar'd and ran From th' noise of our own drums.' MENENIUS Are these your herd? Must these have voices, that can yield them now And straight disclaim their tongues? What are your offices? You being their mouths, why rule you not their teeth? Have you not set them on? MENENIUS Whoever gave that counsel to give forth The corn o' th' storehouse gratis, as 'twas us'd Sometime in Greece- MENENIUS Help, ye citizens! Enter a rabble of plebeians, with the AEDILES MENENIUS Down with him, down with him! [In this mutiny the TRIBUNES, the AEDILES, and the people are beat in] MENENIUS Where is this viper That would depopulate the city and Be every man himself? MENENIUS What do ye talk? Have we not had a taste of his obedience- Our aediles smote, ourselves resisted? Come! MENENIUS Peace is a very apoplexy, lethargy; mull'd, deaf, sleepy, insensible; a getter of more bastard children than war's a destroyer of men You have holp to ravish your own daughters and To melt the city leads upon your pates, To see your wives dishonour'd to your noses- MENENIUS He bears himself more proudlier, Even to my person, than I thought he would When first I did embrace him; yet his nature In that's no changeling, and I must excuse What cannot be amended A public place Enter MENENIUS, COMINIUS, SICINIUS and BRUTUS, the two Tribunes, with others MENENIUS 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 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 beseech you all be better known to this gentleman, whom I commend to you as a noble friend of mine If I come off, and leave her in such honour as you have trust in, she your jewel, this your jewel, and my gold are yours- provided I have your commendation for my more free entertainment I have spoke this to know if your affiance Were deeply rooted, and shall make your lord That which he is new o'er; and he is one The truest manner'd, such a holy witch That he enchants societies into him, Half all men's hearts are his If this penetrate, I will consider your music the better; if it do not, it is a vice in her ears which horsehairs and calves' guts, nor the voice of unpaved eunuch to boot, can never amend His mean'st garment That ever hath but clipp'd his body is dearer In my respect than all the hairs above thee, Were they all made such men Their discipline, Now mingled with their courages, will make known To their approvers they are people such That mend upon the world Your means abroad- You have me, rich; and I will never fail Beginning nor supplyment Sirrah, if thou wouldst not be a villain, but do me true service, undergo those employments wherein I should have cause to use thee with a serious industry- that is, what villainy soe'er I bid thee do, to perform it directly and truly- I would think thee an honest man; thou shouldst neither want my means for thy relief nor my voice for thy preferment 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 What mortality is! Posthumus, thy head, which now is growing upon thy shoulders, shall within this hour be off; thy mistress enforced; thy garments cut to pieces before her face; and all this done, spurn her home to her father, who may, haply, be a little angry for my so rough usage; but my mother, having power of his testiness, shall turn all into my commendations So please your Majesty, The Roman legions, all from Gallia drawn, Are landed on your coast, with a supply Of Roman gentlemen by the Senate sent 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 Athwart the lane He, with two striplings- lads more like to run The country base than to commit such slaughter; With faces fit for masks, or rather fairer Than those for preservation cas'd or shame- Made good the passage, cried to those that fled 'Our Britain's harts die flying, not our men I know you are more clement than vile men, Who of their broken debtors take a third, A sixth, a tenth, letting them thrive again On their abatement; that's not my desire O, there were desolation of gaolers and gallowses! I speak against my present profit, but my wish hath a preferment in't 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 The canker galls the infants of the spring Too oft before their buttons be disclos'd, And in the morn and liquid dew of youth Contagious blastments are most imminent Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice; Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment And I beseech you instantly to visit My too much changed son.- Go, some of you, And bring these gentlemen where Hamlet is To think, my lord, if you delight not in man, what lenten entertainment the players shall receive from you Let me comply with you in this garb, lest my extent to the players (which I tell you must show fairly outwards) should more appear like entertainment than yours Why, 'As by lot, God wot,' and then, you know, 'It came to pass, as most like it was.' The first row of the pious chanson will show you more; for look where my abridgment comes There with fantastic garlands did she come Of crowflowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples, That liberal shepherds give a grosser name, But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them Come, my spade! There is no ancient gentlemen but gard'ners, ditchers, and grave-makers We'll put the matter to the present push.- Good Gertrude, set some watch over your son.- This grave shall have a living monument So shaken as we are, so wan with care, Find we a time for frighted peace to pant And breathe short-winded accents of new broils To be commenc'd in stronds afar remote Of prisoners, Hotspur took Mordake Earl of Fife and eldest son To beaten Douglas, and the Earl of Athol, Of Murray, Angus, and Menteith Yea, but 'tis like that they will know us by our horses, by our habits, and by every other appointment, to be ourselves Tut! our horses they shall not see- I'll tie them in the wood; our wizards we will change after we leave them; and, sirrah, I have cases of buckram for the nonce, to immask our noted outward garments To prove that true Needs no more but one tongue for all those wounds, Those mouthed wounds, which valiantly he took When on the gentle Severn's sedgy bank, In single opposition hand to hand, He did confound the best part of an hour In changing hardiment with great Glendower But shall it be that you, that set the crown Upon the head of this forgetful man, And for his sake wear the detested blot Of murtherous subornation- shall it be That you a world of curses undergo, Being the agents or base second means, The cords, the ladder, or the hangman rather? O, pardon me that I descend so low To show the line and the predicament Wherein you range under this subtile king! Shall it for shame be spoken in these days, Or fill up chronicles in time to come, That men of your nobility and power Did gage them both in an unjust behalf (As both of you, God pardon it! have done) To put down Richard, that sweet lovely rose, And plant this thorn, this canker, Bolingbroke? And shall it in more shame be further spoken That you are fool'd, discarded, and shook off By him for whom these shames ye underwent? No! yet time serves wherein you may redeem Your banish'd honours and restore yourselves Into the good thoughts of the world again; Revenge the jeering and disdain'd contempt Of this proud king, who studies day and night To answer all the debt he owes to you Even with the bloody payment of your deaths Hang ye, gorbellied knaves, are ye undone? No, ye fat chuffs; I would your store were here! On, bacons on! What, ye knaves! young men must live A plague of all cowards, I say, and a vengeance too! Marry and amen! Give me a cup of sack, boy Yea, and to tickle our noses with speargrass to make them bleed, and then to beslubber our garments with it and swear it was the blood of true men These signs have mark'd me extraordinary, And all the courses of my life do show I am not in the roll of common men 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 [To Glend.] Within that space you may have drawn together Your tenants, friends, and neighbouring gentlemen Though sometimes it show greatness, courage, blood- And that's the dearest grace it renders you- Yet oftentimes it doth present harsh rage, Defect of manners, want of government, Pride, haughtiness, opinion, and disdain; The least of which haunting a nobleman Loseth men's hearts, and leaves behind a stain Upon the beauty of all parts besides, Beguiling them of commendation The Earl of Westmoreland set forth to-day; With him my son, Lord John of Lancaster; For this advertisement is five days old But there is Mordake, Vernon, Lord Harry Percy, And there is my Lord of Worcester, and a head Of gallant warriors, noble gentlemen Open your ears; for which of you will stop The vent of hearing when loud Rumour speaks? I, from the orient to the drooping west, Making the wind my post-horse, still unfold The acts commenced on this ball of earth Upon my tongues continual slanders ride, The which in every language I pronounce, Stuffing the ears of men with false reports If the Prince put thee into my service for any other reason than to set me off, why then I have no judgment I say to you I do desire deliverance from these officers, being upon hasty employment in the King's affairs Beshrew your heart, Fair daughter, you do draw my spirits from me With new lamenting ancient oversights My lord, he will drive you out of your revenge and turn all to a merriment, if you take not the heat And I may say to you we knew where the bona-robas were, and had the best of them all at commandment Nay, she must be old; she cannot choose but be old; certain she's old; and had Robin Nightwork, by old Nightwork, before I came to Clement's Inn 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 And now is this Vice's dagger become a squire, and talks as familiarly of John a Gaunt as if he had been sworn brother to him; and I'll be sworn 'a ne'er saw him but once in the Tiltyard; and then he burst his head for crowding among the marshal's men When we are wrong'd, and would unfold our griefs, We are denied access unto his person, Even by those men that most have done us wrong 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 Only we want a little personal strength; And pause us till these rebels, now afoot, Come underneath the yoke of government All these bold fears Thou seest with peril I have answered; For all my reign hath been but as a scene Acting that argument I beseech you, sir, to countenance William Visor of Woncot against Clement Perkes o' th' hill For competence of life I will allow you, That lack of means enforce you not to evils; And, as we hear you do reform yourselves, We will, according to your strengths and qualities, Give you advancement If the gentlemen will not, then the gentlemen do not agree with the gentlewomen, which was never seen before in such an assembly O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend The brightest heaven of invention, A kingdom for a stage, princes to act, And monarchs to behold the swelling scene! Then should the warlike Harry, like himself, Assume the port of Mars; and at his heels, Leash'd in like hounds, should famine, sword, and fire, Crouch for employment We never valu'd this poor seat of England; And therefore, living hence, did give ourself To barbarous licence; as 'tis ever common That men are merriest when they are from home Ah, poor heart! he is so shak'd of a burning quotidian tertian that it is most lamentable to behold There's not, I think, a subject That sits in heart-grief and uneasines Under the sweet shade of your government 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 If not- why, in a moment look to see The blind and bloody with foul hand Defile the locks of your shrill-shrieking daughters; Your fathers taken by the silver beards, And their most reverend heads dash'd to the walls; Your naked infants spitted upon pikes, Whiles the mad mothers with their howls confus'd Do break the clouds, as did the wives of Jewry At Herod's bloody-hunting slaughtermen 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 Turn thee back, And tell thy king I do not seek him now, But could be willing to march on to Calais Without impeachment; for, to say the sooth- Though 'tis no wisdom to confess so much Unto an enemy of craft and vantage- My people are with sickness much enfeebled; My numbers lessen'd; and those few I have Almost no better than so many French; Who when they were in health, I tell thee, herald, I thought upon one pair of English legs Did march three Frenchmen 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 Then I would he were here alone; so should he be sure to be ransomed, and a many poor men's lives saved 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 What's he that wishes so? My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin; If we are mark'd to die, we are enow To do our country loss; and if to live, The fewer men, the greater share of honour Encore qu'il est contre son jurement de pardonner aucun prisonnier, neamnoins, pour les ecus que vous l'avez promis, il est content a vous donner la liberte, le franchisement My soul shall thine keep company to heaven; Tarry, sweet soul, for mine, then fly abreast; As in this glorious and well-foughten field We kept together in our chivalry.' Upon these words I came and cheer'd him up; He smil'd me in the face, raught me his hand, And, with a feeble grip, says 'Dear my lord, Commend my service to my sovereign.' So did he turn, and over Suffolk's neck He threw his wounded arm and kiss'd his lips; And so, espous'd to death, with blood he seal'd A testament of noble-ending love [Alarum] But hark! what new alarum is this same? The French have reinforc'd their scatter'd men Charles Duke of Orleans, nephew to the King; John Duke of Bourbon, and Lord Bouciqualt; Of other lords and barons, knights and squires, Full fifteen hundred, besides common men 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 Let there be sung 'Non nobis' and 'Te Deum'; The dead with charity enclos'd in clay- And then to Calais; and to England then; Where ne'er from France arriv'd more happy men 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 No leisure had he to enrank his men; He wanted pikes to set before his archers; Instead whereof sharp stakes pluck'd out of hedges They pitched in the ground confusedly To keep the horsemen off from breaking in Is Talbot slain? Then I will slay myself, For living idly here in pomp and ease, Whilst such a worthy leader, wanting aid, Unto his dastard foemen is betray'd Why live we idly here? Talbot is taken, whom we wont to fear; Remaineth none but mad-brain'd Salisbury, And he may well in fretting spend his gall Nor men nor money hath he to make war He may mean more than we poor men do know; These women are shrewd tempters with their tongues Convey me Salisbury into his tent, And then we'll try what these dastard Frenchmen dare All France will be replete with mirth and joy When they shall hear how we have play'd the men Now have I paid my vow unto his soul; For every drop of blood was drawn from him There hath at least five Frenchmen died to-night 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 But now the arbitrator of despairs, Just Death, kind umpire of men's miseries, With sweet enlargement doth dismiss me hence That cause, fair nephew, that imprison'd me And hath detain'd me all my flow'ring youth Within a loathsome dungeon, there to pine, Was cursed instrument of his decease Henry the Fourth, grandfather to this king, Depos'd his nephew Richard, Edward's son, The first-begotten and the lawful heir Of Edward king, the third of that descent; During whose reign the Percies of the north, Finding his usurpation most unjust, Endeavour'd my advancement to the throne Signior, hang! Base muleteers of France! Like peasant foot-boys do they keep the walls, And dare not take up arms like gentlemen Warlike and martial Talbot, Burgundy Enshrines thee in his heart, and there erects Thy noble deeds as valour's monuments See then, thou fight'st against thy countrymen, And join'st with them will be thy slaughtermen Then judge, great lords, if I have done amiss, Or whether that such cowards ought to wear This ornament of knighthood-yea or no Why then Lord Talbot there shall talk with him And give him chastisement for this abuse If thou wilt fight, fight by thy father's side; And, commendable prov'd, let's die in pride Stay, my Lord Legate; you shall first receive The sum of money which I promised Should be delivered to his Holiness For clothing me in these grave ornaments If we conclude a peace, It shall be with such strict and severe covenants As little shall the Frenchmen gain thereby 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 So worthless peasants bargain for their wives, As market-men for oxen, sheep, or horse Thanks, uncle Winchester, Gloucester, York, Buckingham, Somerset, Salisbury, and Warwick; We thank you all for this great favour done In entertainment to my princely queen Since thou wert king- as who is king but thou?- The commonwealth hath daily run to wrack, The Dauphin hath prevail'd beyond the seas, And all the peers and nobles of the realm Have been as bondmen to thy sovereignty Could I come near your beauty with my nails, I could set my ten commandments in your face Unless it were a bloody murderer, Or foul felonious thief that fleec'd poor passengers, I never gave them condign punishment I shall not want false witness to condemn me Nor store of treasons to augment my guilt Great lords, from Ireland am I come amain To signify that rebels there are up And put the Englishmen unto the sword O Thou that judgest all things, stay my thoughts- My thoughts that labour to persuade my soul Some violent hands were laid on Humphrey's life! If my suspect be false, forgive me, God; For judgment only doth belong to Thee But that the guilt of murder bucklers thee, And I should rob the deathsman of his fee, Quitting thee thereby of ten thousand shames, And that my sovereign's presence makes me mild, I would, false murd'rous coward, on thy knee Make thee beg pardon for thy passed speech And say it was thy mother that thou meant'st, That thou thyself was born in bastardy; And, after all this fearful homage done, Give thee thy hire and send thy soul to hell, Pernicious blood-sucker of sleeping men They say by him the good Duke Humphrey died; They say in him they fear your Highness' death; And mere instinct of love and loyalty, Free from a stubborn opposite intent, As being thought to contradict your liking, Makes them thus forward in his banishment O, let me entreat thee cease! Give me thy hand, That I may dew it with my mournful tears; Nor let the rain of heaven wet this place To wash away my woeful monuments 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 O that I were a god, to shoot forth thunder Upon these paltry, servile, abject drudges! Small things make base men proud Come, soldiers, show what cruelty ye can, That this my death may never be forgot- Great men oft die by vile bezonians Marry, thou ought'st not to let thy horse wear a cloak, when honester men than thou go in their hose and doublets Exit attendant I know, ere thy will have me go to ward, They'll pawn their swords for my enfranchisement I know our safety is to follow them; For, as I hear, the King is fled to London To call a present court of Parliament DRAMATIS PERSONAE KING HENRY THE SIXTH EDWARD, PRINCE OF WALES, his son LEWIS XI, King of France DUKE OF SOMERSET DUKE OF EXETER EARL OF OXFORD EARL OF NORTHUMBERLAND EARL OF WESTMORELAND LORD CLIFFORD RICHARD PLANTAGENET, DUKE OF YORK EDWARD, EARL OF MARCH, afterwards KING EDWARD IV, his son EDMUND, EARL OF RUTLAND, his son GEORGE, afterwards DUKE OF CLARENCE, his son RICHARD, afterwards DUKE OF GLOUCESTER, his son DUKE OF NORFOLK MARQUIS OF MONTAGUE EARL OF WARWICK EARL OF PEMBROKE LORD HASTINGS LORD STAFFORD SIR JOHN MORTIMER, uncle to the Duke of York SIR HUGH MORTIMER, uncle to the Duke of York HENRY, EARL OF RICHMOND, a youth LORD RIVERS, brother to Lady Grey SIR WILLIAM STANLEY SIR JOHN MONTGOMERY SIR JOHN SOMERVILLE TUTOR, to Rutland MAYOR OF YORK LIEUTENANT OF THE TOWER A NOBLEMAN TWO KEEPERS A HUNTSMAN A SON that has killed his father A FATHER that has killed his son QUEEN MARGARET LADY GREY, afterwards QUEEN to Edward IV BONA, sister to the French Queen Soldiers, Attendants, Messengers, Watchmen, etc. Poor queen! How love to me and to her son Hath made her break out into terms of rage! Reveng'd may she be on that hateful Duke, Whose haughty spirit, winged with desire, Will cost my crown, and like an empty eagle Tire on the flesh of me and of my son! The loss of those three lords torments my heart My sons- God knows what hath bechanced them; But this I know- they have demean'd themselves Like men born to renown by life or death So triumph thieves upon their conquer'd booty; So true men yield, with robbers so o'er-match'd 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 Why, am I dead? Do I not breathe a man? Ah, simple men, you know not what you swear! Look, as I blow this feather from my face, And as the air blows it to me again, Obeying with my wind when I do blow, And yielding to another when it blows, Commanded always by the greater gust, Such is the lightness of you common men [To WARWICK] Yet I confess that often ere this day, When I have heard your king's desert recounted, Mine ear hath tempted judgment to desire But, Warwick, after God, thou set'st me free, And chiefly therefore I thank God and thee; He was the author, thou the instrument Now join your hands, and with your hands your hearts, That no dissension hinder government 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 Know you not The fire that mounts the liquor till't run o'er In seeming to augment it wastes it? Be advis'd An't please your Grace, Sir Thomas Bullen's daughter- The Viscount Rochford-one of her Highness' women 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 I was set at work Among my maids, full little, God knows, looking Either for such men or such business Fairly answer'd! A loyal and obedient subject is Therein illustrated; the honour of it Does pay the act of it, as, i' th' contrary, The foulness is the punishment He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one; Exceeding wise, fair-spoken, and persuading; Lofty and sour to them that lov'd him not, But to those men that sought him sweet as summer 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 Here have we war for war, and blood for blood, Controlment for controlment- so answer France 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 'Good den, Sir Richard!'-'God-a-mercy, fellow!' And if his name be George, I'll call him Peter; For new-made honour doth forget men's names Their armours that march'd hence so silver-bright Hither return all gilt with Frenchmen's blood O, save me, Hubert, save me! My eyes are out Even with the fierce looks of these bloody men For heaven sake, Hubert, let me not be bound! Nay, hear me, Hubert! Drive these men away, And I will sit as quiet as a lamb; I will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word, Nor look upon the iron angrily; Thrust but these men away, and I'll forgive you, Whatever torment you do put me to Then I, as one that am the tongue of these, To sound the purposes of all their hearts, Both for myself and them- but, chief of all, Your safety, for the which myself and them Bend their best studies, heartily request Th' enfranchisement of Arthur, whose restraint Doth move the murmuring lips of discontent To break into this dangerous argument A trade, sir, that, I hope, I may use with a safe conscience, which is indeed, sir, a mender of bad soles Vexed I am Of late with passions of some difference, Conceptions only proper to myself, Which give some soil perhaps to my behaviors; But let not therefore my good friends be grieved- Among which number, Cassius, be you one- Nor construe any further my neglect Than that poor Brutus with himself at war Forgets the shows of love to other men He reads much, He is a great observer, and he looks Quite through the deeds of men 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 O, let us have him, for his silver hairs Will purchase us a good opinion, And buy men's voices to commend our deeds O, name him not; let us not break with him, For he will never follow anything That other men begin We all stand up against the spirit of Caesar, And in the spirit of men there is no blood Pardon, Caesar! Caesar, pardon! As low as to thy foot doth Cassius fall To beg enfranchisement for Publius Cimber I could be well moved, if I were as you; If I could pray to move, prayers would move me; But I am constant as the northern star, Of whose true-fix'd and resting quality There is no fellow in the firmament That we shall die, we know; 'tis but the time And drawing days out that men stand upon So oft as that shall be, So often shall the knot of us be call'd The men that gave their country liberty Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood! Over thy wounds now do I prophesy (Which like dumb mouths do ope their ruby lips To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue) A curse shall light upon the limbs of men; Domestic fury and fierce civil strife Shall cumber all the parts of Italy; Blood and destruction shall be so in use, And dreadful objects so familiar, That mothers shall but smile when they behold Their infants quarter'd with the hands of war; All pity choked with custom of fell deeds, And Caesar's spirit ranging for revenge, With Ate by his side come hot from hell, Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice Cry "Havoc!" and let slip the dogs of war, That this foul deed shall smell above the earth With carrion men, groaning for burial 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 O masters! If I were disposed to stir Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage, I should do Brutus wrong and Cassius wrong, Who, you all know, are honorable men I will not do them wrong; I rather choose To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you, Than I will wrong such honorable men For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech, To stir men's blood The name of Cassius honors this corruption, And chastisement doth therefore hide his head Keep this man safe, Give him all kindness; I had rather have Such men my friends than enemies If, on the tenth day following, Thy banish'd trunk be found in our dominions, The moment is thy death Fut! I should have been that I am, had the maidenliest star in the firmament twinkled on my bastardizing 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 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 For you, Edmund, Whose virtue and obedience doth this instant So much commend itself, you shall be ours I am now from home, and out of that provision Which shall be needful for your entertainment Sir, I do know you, And dare upon the warrant of my note Commend a dear thing to you Good nuncle, in, and ask thy daughters blessing! Here's a night pities nether wise men nor fools Is there any cause in nature that makes these hard hearts? [To Edgar] You, sir- I entertain you for one of my hundred; only I do not like the fashion of your garments If she live long, And in the end meet the old course of death, Women will all turn monsters 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 If you do chance to hear of that blind traitor, Preferment falls on him that cuts him off Therefore, thou happy father, Think that the clearest gods, who make them honours Of men's impossibility, have preserv'd thee Most sweet Hercules! More authority, dear boy, name more; and, sweet my child, let them be men of good repute and carriage The first and second cause will not serve my turn; the passado he respects not, the duello he regards not; his disgrace is to be called boy, but his glory is to subdue men 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 [He reads the sonnet] 'Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye, 'Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument, Persuade my heart to this false perjury? Vows for thee broke deserve not punishment I that am honest, I that hold it sin To break the vow I am engaged in; I am betrayed by keeping company With men like you, men of inconstancy And, where that you you have vow'd to study, lords, In that each of you have forsworn his book, Can you still dream, and pore, and thereon look? For when would you, my lord, or you, or you, Have found the ground of study's excellence Without the beauty of a woman's face? From women's eyes this doctrine I derive 'A can carve too, and lisp; why this is he That kiss'd his hand away in courtesy; This is the ape of form, Monsieur the Nice, That, when he plays at tables, chides the dice In honourable terms; nay, he can sing A mean most meanly; and in ushering, Mend him who can We have receiv'd your letters, full of love; Your favours, the ambassadors of love; And, in our maiden council, rated them At courtship, pleasant jest, and courtesy, As bombast and as lining to the time; But more devout than this in our respects Have we not been; and therefore met your loves In their own fashion, like a merriment SPRING When daisies pied and violets blue And lady-smocks all silver-white And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue Do paint the meadows with delight, The cuckoo then on every tree Mocks married men, for thus sings he 'Cuckoo; Cuckoo, cuckoo'- O word of fear, Unpleasing to a married ear! When shepherds pipe on oaten straws, And merry larks are ploughmen's clocks; When turtles tread, and rooks and daws, And maidens bleach their summer smocks; The cuckoo then on every tree Mocks married men, for thus sings he 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 [Aside.] Two truths are told, As happy prologues to the swelling act Of the imperial theme-I thank you, gentlemen If ill, Why hath it given me earnest of success, Commencing in a truth? I am Thane of Cawdor The raven himself is hoarse That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan Under my battlements Who can be wise, amazed, temperate and furious, Loyal and neutral, in a moment? No man 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 And I another So weary with disasters, tugg'd with fortune, That I would set my life on any chance, To mend it or be rid on't Who cannot want the thought, how monstrous It was for Malcolm and for Donalbain To kill their gracious father? Damned fact! How it did grieve Macbeth! Did he not straight, In pious rage, the two delinquents tear That were the slaves of drink and thralls of sleep? Was not that nobly done? Ay, and wisely too, For 'twould have anger'd any heart alive To hear the men deny't Then the liars and swearers are fools, for there are liars and swearers enow to beat the honest men and hang up them Their malady convinces The great assay of art, but at his touch, Such sanctity hath heaven given his hand, They presently amend Thou conclud'st like the sanctimonious pirate that went to sea with the Ten Commandments, but scrap'd one out of the table If I could speak so wisely under an arrest, I would send for certain of my creditors; and yet, to say the truth, I had as lief have the foppery of freedom as the morality of imprisonment 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 For that which, if myself might be his judge, He should receive his punishment in thanks You seem'd of late to make the law a tyrant; And rather prov'd the sliding of your brother A merriment than a vice But, O, how much is the good Duke deceiv'd in Angelo! If ever he return, and I can speak to him, I will open my lips in vain, or discover his government Do thou but think What 'tis to cram a maw or clothe a back From such a filthy vice; say to thyself 'From their abominable and beastly touches I drink, I eat, array myself, and live.' Canst thou believe thy living is a life, So stinkingly depending? Go mend, go mend So please you, this friar hath been with him, and advis'd him for th' entertainment of death Exit PROVOST This is a gentle provost; seldom when The steeled gaoler is the friend of men I do not like the man; had he been lay, my lord, For certain words he spake against your Grace In your retirement, I had swing'd him soundly Exit PROVOST And you, my noble and well-warranted cousin, Whom it concerns to hear this matter forth, Do with your injuries as seems you best In any chastisement 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 This was a way to thrive, and he was blest; And thrift is blessing, if men steal it not No, that were pity; I would entreat you rather to put on Your boldest suit of mirth, for we have friends That purpose merriment So may the outward shows be least themselves; The world is still deceiv'd with ornament How every fool can play upon the word! I think the best grace of wit will shortly turn into silence, and discourse grow commendable in none only but parrots 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 Thou almost mak'st me waver in my faith, To hold opinion with Pythagoras That souls of animals infuse themselves Into the trunks of men It doth appear you are a worthy judge; You know the law; your exposition Hath been most sound; I charge you by the law, Whereof you are a well-deserving pillar, Proceed to judgment It is not meet the Council hear a riot; there is no fear of Got in a riot; the Council, look you, shall desire to hear the fear of Got, and not to hear a riot; take your vizaments in that Heaven forgive me! Why, I'll exhibit a bill in the parliament for the putting down of men I will not believe such a Cataian though the priest o' th' town commended him for a true man Though we are justices, and doctors, and churchmen, Master Page, we have some salt of our youth in us; we are the sons of women, Master Page By gar, me dank you vor dat; by gar, I love you; and I shall procure-a you de good guest, de earl, de knight, de lords, de gentlemen, my patients [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 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 Of none but him; and swears he was carried out, the last time he search'd for him, in a basket; protests to my husband he is now here; and hath drawn him and the rest of their company from their sport, to make another experiment of his suspicion She works by charms, by spells, by th' figure, and such daub'ry as this is, beyond our element Why, then may you leave a casement of the great chamber window, where we play, open; and the moon may shine in at the casement The moon, methinks, looks with a wat'ry eye; And when she weeps, weeps every little flower; Lamenting some enforced chastity Indeed he hath play'd on this prologue like a child on a recorder- a sound, but not in government The best in this kind are but shadows; and the worst are no worse, if imagination amend them If we imagine no worse of them than they of themselves, they may pass for excellent men That a woman conceived me, I thank her; that she brought me up, I likewise give her most humble thanks; but that I will have a rechate winded in my forehead, or hang my bugle in an invisible baldrick, all women shall pardon me Yea, but you must not make the full show of this till you may do it without controlment Let there be the same net spread for her, and that must your daughter and her gentlewomen carry No, but the barber's man hath been seen with him, and the old ornament of his cheek hath already stuff'd tennis balls He swore he would never marry; and yet now in despite of his heart he eats his meat without grudging; and how you may be converted I know not, but methinks you look with your eyes as other women do 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 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 My lord, your brother John is ta'en in flight, And brought with armed men back to Messina 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 What should I do? I confess it is my shame to be so fond, but it is not in my virtue to amend it Methinks the wind hath spoke aloud at land; A fuller blast ne'er shook our battlements O, behold, The riches of the ship is come on shore! Ye men of Cyprus, let her have your knees Or failing so, yet that I put the Moor At least into a jealousy so strong That judgement cannot cure Good my lord, If I have any grace or power to move you, His present reconciliation take; For if he be not one that truly loves you, That errs in ignorance and not in cunning, I have no judgement in an honest face May be the letter moved him; For, as I think, they do command him home, Deputing Cassio in his government I grant indeed it hath not appeared, and your suspicion is not without wit and judgement Heaven me such uses send, Not to pick bad from bad, but by bad mend! Exeunt. Yet I'll not shed her blood, Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow And smooth as monumental alabaster It is the very error of the moon; She comes more nearer earth than she was wont And makes men mad O, are you come, Iago? You have done well, That men must lay their murthers on your neck 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 My dear dear lord, The purest treasure mortal times afford Is spotless reputation; that away, Men are but gilded loam or painted clay Cousin of Hereford, as thy cause is right, So be thy fortune in this royal fight! Farewell, my blood; which if to-day thou shed, Lament we may, but not revenge thee dead You, cousin Hereford, upon pain of life, Till twice five summers have enrich'd our fields Shall not regreet our fair dominions, But tread the stranger paths of banishment 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 He that no more must say is listen'd more Than they whom youth and ease have taught to glose; More are men's ends mark'd than their lives before This royal throne of kings, this scept'red isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other Eden, demi-paradise, This fortress built by Nature for herself Against infection and the hand of war, This happy breed of men, this little world, This precious stone set in the silver sea, Which serves it in the office of a wall, Or as a moat defensive to a house, Against the envy of less happier lands; This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England, This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings, Fear'd by their breed, and famous by their birth, Renowned for their deeds as far from home, For Christian service and true chivalry, As is the sepulchre in stubborn Jewry Of the world's ransom, blessed Mary's Son; This land of such dear souls, this dear dear land, Dear for her reputation through the world, Is now leas'd out-I die pronouncing it- Like to a tenement or pelting farm [NORTHUMBERLAND advances to the Castle, with a trumpet] Let's march without the noise of threat'ning drum, That from this castle's tottered battlements Our fair appointments may be well perus'd to drop them still upon one place Till they have fretted us a pair of graves Within the earth; and, therein laid-there lies Two kinsmen digg'd their graves with weeping eyes 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 There lies the substance; and I thank thee, king, For thy great bounty, that not only giv'st Me cause to wail, but teachest me the way How to lament the cause How sour sweet music is When time is broke and no proportion kept! So is it in the music of men's lives Let it sound no more; For though it have holp madmen to their wits, In me it seems it will make wise men mad How now! What means death in this rude assault? Villain, thy own hand yields thy death's instrument Dramatis Personae EDWARD THE FOURTH Sons to the King EDWARD, PRINCE OF WALES afterwards KING EDWARD V RICHARD, DUKE OF YORK, Brothers to the King GEORGE, DUKE OF CLARENCE, RICHARD, DUKE OF GLOUCESTER, afterwards KING RICHARD III A YOUNG SON OF CLARENCE (Edward, Earl of Warwick) HENRY, EARL OF RICHMOND, afterwards KING HENRY VII CARDINAL BOURCHIER, ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY THOMAS ROTHERHAM, ARCHBISHOP OF YORK JOHN MORTON, BISHOP OF ELY DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM DUKE OF NORFOLK EARL OF SURREY, his son EARL RIVERS, brother to King Edward's Queen MARQUIS OF DORSET and LORD GREY, her sons EARL OF OXFORD LORD HASTINGS LORD LOVEL LORD STANLEY, called also EARL OF DERBY SIR THOMAS VAUGHAN SIR RICHARD RATCLIFF SIR WILLIAM CATESBY SIR JAMES TYRREL SIR JAMES BLOUNT SIR WALTER HERBERT SIR WILLIAM BRANDON SIR ROBERT BRAKENBURY, Lieutenant of the Tower CHRISTOPHER URSWICK, a priest LORD MAYOR OF LONDON SHERIFF OF WILTSHIRE HASTINGS, a pursuivant TRESSEL and BERKELEY, gentlemen attending on Lady Anne ELIZABETH, Queen to King Edward IV MARGARET, widow of King Henry VI DUCHESS OF YORK, mother to King Edward IV LADY ANNE, widow of Edward, Prince of Wales, son to King Henry VI; afterwards married to the Duke of Gloucester A YOUNG DAUGHTER OF CLARENCE (Margaret Plantagenet, Countess of Salisbury) Ghosts, of Richard's victims Lords, Gentlemen, and Attendants; Priest, Scrivener, Page, Bishops, Aldermen, Citizens, Soldiers, Messengers, Murderers, Keeper 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 With patience, noble lord, as prisoners must; But I shall live, my lord, to give them thanks That were the cause of my imprisonment O, cursed be the hand that made these holes! Cursed the heart that had the heart to do it! Cursed the blood that let this blood from hence! More direful hap betide that hated wretch That makes us wretched by the death of thee Than I can wish to adders, spiders, toads, Or any creeping venom'd thing that lives! If ever he have child, abortive be it, Prodigious, and untimely brought to light, Whose ugly and unnatural aspect May fright the hopeful mother at the view, And that be heir to his unhappiness! If ever he have wife, let her be made More miserable by the death of him Than I am made by my young lord and thee! Come, now towards Chertsey with your holy load, Taken from Paul's to be interred there; And still as you are weary of this weight Rest you, whiles I lament King Henry's corse The Countess Richmond, good my Lord of Derby, To your good prayer will scarcely say amen First, madam, I entreat true peace of you, Which I will purchase with my duteous service; Of you, my noble cousin Buckingham, If ever any grudge were lodg'd between us; Of you, and you, Lord Rivers, and of Dorset, That all without desert have frown'd on me; Of you, Lord Woodville, and, Lord Scales, of you; Dukes, earls, lords, gentlemen-indeed, of all 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 Grandam, we can; for my good uncle Gloucester Told me the King, provok'd to it by the Queen, Devis'd impeachments to imprison him 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 When clouds are seen, wise men put on their cloaks; When great leaves fall, then winter is at hand; When the sun sets, who doth not look for night? Untimely storms make men expect a dearth 'Tis a vile thing to die, my gracious lord, When men are unprepar'd and look not for it Two props of virtue for a Christian prince, To stay him from the fall of vanity; And, see, a book of prayer in his hand, True ornaments to know a holy man Then fiery expedition be my wing, Jove's Mercury, and herald for a king! Go, muster men 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 Though far more cause, yet much less spirit to curse Abides in me; I say amen to her If I did take the kingdom from your sons, To make amends I'll give it to your daughter 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 The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love, And the continuance of their parents' rage, Which, but their children's end, naught could remove, Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage; The which if you with patient ears attend, What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend You, Capulet, shall go along with me; And, Montague, come you this afternoon, To know our farther pleasure in this case, To old Freetown, our common judgment place But Montague is bound as well as I, In penalty alike; and 'tis not hard, I think, For men so old as we to keep the peace 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 This is that very Mab That plats the manes of horses in the night And bakes the elflocks in foul sluttish, hairs, Which once untangled much misfortune bodes This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs, That presses them and learns them first to bear, Making them women of good carriage Enter the Maskers, Enter, [with Servants,] Capulet, his Wife, Juliet, Tybalt, and all the Guests and Gentlewomen to the Maskers How cam'st thou hither, tell me, and wherefore? The orchard walls are high and hard to climb, And the place death, considering who thou art, If any of my kinsmen find thee here Why, that same pale hard-hearted wench, that Rosaline, Torments him so that he will sure run mad O, thou art deceiv'd! I would have made it short; for I was come to the whole depth of my tale, and meant indeed to occupy the argument no longer Wash they his wounds with tears? Mine shall be spent, When theirs are dry, for Romeo's banishment 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 But look thou stay not till the watch be set, For then thou canst not pass to Mantua, Where thou shalt live till we can find a time To blaze your marriage, reconcile your friends, Beg pardon of the Prince, and call thee back With twenty hundred thousand times more joy Than thou went'st forth in lamentation Is there no pity sitting in the clouds That sees into the bottom of my grief? O sweet my mother, cast me not away! Delay this marriage for a month, a week; Or if you do not, make the bridal bed In that dim monument where Tybalt lies Dry up your tears and stick your rosemary On this fair corse, and, as the custom is, In all her best array bear her to church; For though fond nature bids us all lament, Yet nature's tears are reason's merriment Put this in any liquid thing you will And drink it off, and if you had the strength Of twenty men, it would dispatch you straight Why I descend into this bed of death Is partly to behold my lady's face, But chiefly to take thence from her dead finger A precious ring- a ring that I must use In dear employment Bliss be upon you! Tell me, good my friend, What torch is yond that vainly lends his light To grubs and eyeless skulls? As I discern, It burneth in the Capels' monument Romeo! Alack, alack, what blood is this which stains The stony entrance of this sepulchre? What mean these masterless and gory swords To lie discolour'd by this place of peace? [Enters the tomb.] Romeo! O, pale! Who else? What, Paris too? And steep'd in blood? Ah, what an unkind hour Is guilty of this lamentable chance! The lady stirs The people in the street cry 'Romeo,' Some 'Juliet,' and some 'Paris'; and all run, With open outcry, toward our monument Here is a friar, and slaughter'd Romeo's man, With instruments upon them fit to open These dead men's tombs I brought my master news of Juliet's death; And then in post he came from Mantua To this same place, to this same monument Where be these enemies? Capulet, Montage, See what a scourge is laid upon your hate, That heaven finds means to kill your joys with love! And I, for winking at you, discords too, Have lost a brace of kinsmen Are you my wife, and will not call me husband? My men should call me 'lord'; I am your goodman You understand me- over and beside Signior Baptista's liberality, I'll mend it with a largess 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 Come, go along, and see the truth hereof; For our first merriment hath made thee jealous Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper, Thy head, thy sovereign; one that cares for thee, And for thy maintenance commits his body To painful labour both by sea and land, To watch the night in storms, the day in cold, Whilst thou liest warm at home, secure and safe; And craves no other tribute at thy hands But love, fair looks, and true obedience- Too little payment for so great a debt I boarded the King's ship; now on the beak, Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin, I flam'd amazement Here thought they to have done Some wanton charm upon this man and maid, Whose vows are that no bed-rite shall be paid Till Hymen's torch be lighted; but in vain I have in this rough work shap'd out a man Whom this beneath world doth embrace and hug With amplest entertainment Who can call him his friend That dips in the same dish? For, in my knowing, Timon has been this lord's father, And kept his credit with his purse; Supported his estate; nay, Timon's money Has paid his men their wages He ne'er drinks But Timon's silver treads upon his lip; And yet- O, see the monstrousness of man When he looks out in an ungrateful shape!- He does deny him, in respect of his, What charitable men afford to beggars How! Have they denied him? Has Ventidius and Lucullus denied him? And does he send to me? Three? Humh! It shows but little love or judgment in him He is a man, setting his fate aside, Of comely virtues; Nor did he soil the fact with cowardice- An honour in him which buys out his fault- But with a noble fury and fair spirit, Seeing his reputation touch'd to death, He did oppose his foe; And with such sober and unnoted passion He did behove his anger ere 'twas spent, As if he had but prov'd an argument Lend to each man enough, that one need not lend to another; for were your god-heads to borrow of men, men would forsake the gods The gods confound- hear me, you good gods all- The Athenians both within and out that wall! And grant, as Timon grows, his hate may grow To the whole race of mankind, high and low! Amen [Embrace, and part several ways] O the fierce wretchedness that glory brings us! Who would not wish to be from wealth exempt, Since riches point to misery and contempt? Who would be so mock'd with glory, or to live But in a dream of friendship, To have his pomp, and all what state compounds, But only painted, like his varnish'd friends? Poor honest lord, brought low by his own heart, Undone by goodness! Strange, unusual blood, When man's worst sin is he does too much good! Who then dares to be half so kind again? For bounty, that makes gods, does still mar men Consumptions sow In hollow bones of man; strike their sharp shins, And mar men's spurring Where should he have this gold? It is some poor fragment, some slender ort of his remainder Take wealth and lives together; Do villainy, do, since you protest to do't, Like workmen The sun's a thief, and with his great attraction Robs the vast sea; the moon's an arrant thief, And her pale fire she snatches from the sun; The sea's a thief, whose liquid surge resolves The moon into salt tears; the earth's a thief, That feeds and breeds by a composture stol'n From gen'ral excrement- each thing's a thief A plague consume you wicked caitiffs left! Here lie I, Timon, who alive all living men did hate LUCIUS QUINTUS MARTIUS MUTIUS YOUNG LUCIUS, a boy, son to Lucius PUBLIUS, son to Marcus Andronicus Kinsmen to Titus Marcus, for thy sake, and thy brother's here, And at my lovely Tamora's entreats, I do remit these young men's heinous faults Under your patience, gentle Emperess, 'Tis thought you have a goodly gift in horning, And to be doubted that your Moor and you Are singled forth to try thy experiments A stone is silent and offendeth not, And tribunes with their tongues doom men to death To rescue my two brothers from their death; For which attempt the judges have pronounc'd My everlasting doom of banishment O, how this villainy Doth fat me with the very thoughts of it! Let fools do good, and fair men call for grace Wound it with sighing, girl, kill it with groans; Or get some little knife between thy teeth And just against thy heart make thou a hole, That all the tears that thy poor eyes let fall May run into that sink and, soaking in, Drown the lamenting fool in sea-salt tears I say, my lord, that if I were a man Their mother's bedchamber should not be safe For these base bondmen to the yoke of Rome This wicked Emperor may have shipp'd her hence; And, kinsmen, then we may go pipe for justice 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 King, be thy thoughts imperious like thy name! Is the sun dimm'd, that gnats do fly in it? The eagle suffers little birds to sing, And is not careful what they mean thereby, Knowing that with the shadow of his wings He can at pleasure stint their melody; Even so mayest thou the giddy men of Rome Go, go into old Titus' sorrowful house, And hither hale that misbelieving Moor To be adjudg'd some direful slaught'ring death, As punishment for his most wicked life An her hair were not somewhat darker than Helen's- well, go to- there were no more comparison between the women if she be fair, 'tis the better for her; an she be not, she has the mends in her own hands If the dull brainless Ajax come safe off, We'll dress him up in voices; if he fail, Yet go we under our opinion still That we have better men 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 I have a roisting challenge sent amongst The dull and factious nobles of the Greeks Will strike amazement to their drowsy spirits What, am I poor of late? 'Tis certain, greatness, once fall'n out with fortune, Must fall out with men too To have done is to hang Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail In monumental mock'ry Beshrew the witch! with venomous wights she stays As tediously as hell, but flies the grasps of love With wings more momentary-swift than thought How can I moderate it? If I could temporize with my affections Or brew it to a weak and colder palate, The like allayment could I give my grief But that's no argument for kissing now; For thus popp'd Paris in his hardiment, And parted thus you and your argument With too much blood and too little brain these two may run mad; but, if with too much brain and to little blood they do, I'll be a curer of madmen To be a dog, a mule, a cat, a fitchew, a toad, a lizard, an owl, a put-tock, or a herring without a roe, I would not care; but to be Menelaus, I would conspire against destiny Ask me not what I would be, if I were not Thersites; for I care not to be the louse of a lazar, so I were not Menelaus 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 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 My lady's a Cataian, we are politicians, Malvolio's a Peg-a-Ramsey, and [Sings] Three merry men be we For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, More longing, wavering, sooner lost and won, Than women's are I will construe to them whence you come; who you are and what you would are out of my welkin- I might say 'element' but the word is overworn This is a practice As full of labour as a wise man's art; For folly that he wisely shows is fit; But wise men, folly-fall'n, quite taint their wit My niece shall take note of it; and assure thyself there is no love-broker in the world can more prevail in man's commendation with woman than report of valour He does smile his face into more lines than is in the new map with the augmentation of the Indies ANTONIO.Th' offence is not of such a bloody nature; Albeit the quality of the time and quarrel Might well have given us bloody argument Go, hang yourselves all! You are idle shallow things; I am not of your element; you shall know more hereafter We may carry it thus, for our pleasure and his penance, till our very pastime, tired out of breath, prompt us to have mercy on him; at which time we will bring the device to the bar and crown thee for a finder of madmen I know the knight is incens'd against you, even to a mortal arbitrement; but nothing of the circumstance more I prithee, foolish Greek, depart from me; There's money for thee; if you tarry longer I shall give worse payment No, not so much as 'Take this for thy pains.' To testify your bounty, I thank you, you have testern'd me; in requital whereof, henceforth carry your letters yourself; and so, sir, I'll commend you to my master Pardon, dear madam; 'tis a passing shame That I, unworthy body as I am, Should censure thus on lovely gentlemen Nay, would I were so ang'red with the same! O hateful hands, to tear such loving words! Injurious wasps, to feed on such sweet honey And kill the bees that yield it with your stings! I'll kiss each several paper for amends He wond'red that your lordship Would suffer him to spend his youth at home, While other men, of slender reputation, Put forth their sons to seek preferment out 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 Without you! Nay, that's certain; for, without you were so simple, none else would; but you are so without these follies that these follies are within you, and shine through you like the water in an urinal, that not an eye that sees you but is a physician to comment on your malady And why not death rather than living torment? To die is to be banish'd from myself, And Silvia is myself; banish'd from her Is self from self, a deadly banishment Cease to lament for that thou canst not help, And study help for that which thou lament'st The best way is to slander Valentine With falsehood, cowardice, and poor descent- Three things that women highly hold in hate And thy advice this night I'll put in practice; Therefore, sweet Proteus, my direction-giver, Let us into the city presently To sort some gentlemen well skill'd in music I take your offer, and will live with you, Provided that you do no outrages On silly women or poor passengers 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 It is the lesser blot, modesty finds, Women to change their shapes than men their minds How sometimes nature will betray its folly, Its tenderness, and make itself a pastime To harder bosoms! Looking on the lines Of my boy's face, methoughts I did recoil Twenty-three years; and saw myself unbreech'd, In my green velvet coat; my dagger muzzl'd, Lest it should bite its master and so prove, As ornaments oft do, too dangerous Camillo- As you are certainly a gentleman; thereto Clerk-like experienc'd, which no less adorns Our gentry than our parents' noble names, In whose success we are gentle- I beseech you, If you know aught which does behove my knowledge Thereof to be inform'd, imprison't not In ignorant concealment You smell this business with a sense as cold As is a dead man's nose; but I do see't and feel't As you feel doing thus; and see withal The instruments that feel The good Queen, For she is good, hath brought you forth a daughter; Here 'tis; commends it to your blessing O, the sacrifice! How ceremonious, solemn, and unearthly, It was i' th' off'ring! CLEOMENES 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 A shepherd's daughter, And what to her adheres, which follows after, Is th' argument of Time Of that fatal country Sicilia, prithee, speak no more; whose very naming punishes me with the remembrance of that penitent, as thou call'st him, and reconciled king, my brother; whose loss of his most precious queen and children are even now to be afresh lamented Hot lavender, mints, savory, marjoram; The marigold, that goes to bed wi' th' sun, And with him rises weeping; these are flow'rs Of middle summer, and I think they are given To men of middle age 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 We'll have this song out anon by ourselves; my father and the gentlemen are in sad talk, and we'll not trouble them Exit AUTOLYCUS, Singing Will you buy any tape, Or lace for your cape, My dainty duck, my dear-a? Any silk, any thread, Any toys for your head, Of the new'st and fin'st, fin'st wear-a? Come to the pedlar; Money's a meddler That doth utter all men's ware-a 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 But what talk we of these traitorly rascals, whose miseries are to be smil'd at, their offences being so capital? Tell me, for you seem to be honest plain men, what you have to the King Women will love her that she is a woman More worth than any man; men, that she is The rarest of all women Go, Cleomenes; Yourself, assisted with your honour'd friends, Bring them to our embracement There was casting up of eyes, holding up of hands, with countenance of such distraction that they were to be known by garment, not by favour Come, boy; I am past moe children, but thy sons and daughters will be all gentlemen born I, an old turtle, Will wing me to some wither'd bough, and there My mate, that's never to be found again, Lament till I am lost 'Father,' she says, 'though in me you behold The injury of many a blasting hour, Let it not tell your judgement I am old Quotes for: Shakespeare Quotes
Source: Project Gutenburg Texts
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