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Shakespeare quotes on thePity the world, or else this glutton be, To eat the world's due, by the grave and thee 3 Look in thy glass and tell the face thou viewest, Now is the time that face should form another, Whose fresh repair if Source: THE SONNETS But flowers distilled though they with winter meet, Leese but their show, their substance still lives sweet That use is not forbidden usury, Which happies those that pay the willing loan; That's for thy self to breed another thee, Or ten times happier be it ten for one, Ten times thy self were happier than thou art, If ten of thine ten times refigured thee 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 Why lov'st thou that which thou receiv'st not gladly, Or else receiv'st with pleasure thine annoy? If the true concord of well-tuned sounds, By unions married do offend thine ear, They do but sweetly chide thee, who confounds In singleness the parts that thou shouldst bear Whose speechless song being many, seeming one, Sings this to thee, 'Thou single wilt prove none' Look what an unthrift in the world doth spend Shifts but his place, for still the world enjoys it; But beauty's waste hath in the world an end, And kept unused the user so destroys it O change thy thought, that I may change my mind, Shall hate be fairer lodged than gentle love? Be as thy presence is gracious and kind, Or to thy self at least kind-hearted prove, Make thee another self for love of me, That beauty still may live in thine or thee 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, Source: THE SONNETS 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 Then of thy beauty do I question make That thou among the wastes of time must go, Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake, And die as fast as they see others grow, And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make defence Save breed to brave him, when he takes thee hence 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 Who lets so fair a house fall to decay, Which husbandry in honour might uphold, Against the stormy gusts of winter's day And barren rage of death's eternal cold? O none but unthrifts, dear my love you know, You had a father, let your son say so That this huge stage presenteth nought but shows Whereon the stars in secret influence comment 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 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 20 A woman's face with nature's own hand painted, Hast thou the master mistress of my passion, A woman's gentle heart but not acquainted With shifting change as is false women's fashion, An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling But since she pricked thee out for women's pleasure, Mine be thy love and thy love's use their treasure 22 My glass shall not persuade me I am old, So long as youth and thou are of one date, But when in thee time's furrows I behold, Then look I death my days should expiate 23 As an unperfect actor on the stage, Who with his fear is put beside his part, Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage, Whose strength's abundance weakens his own heart; So I for fear of trust, forget to say, The perfect ceremony of love's rite, And in mine own love's strength seem to decay, O'ercharged with burthen of mine own love's might Now see what good turns eyes for eyes have done, Mine eyes have drawn thy shape, and thine for me Are windows to my breast, where-through the sun Delights to peep, to gaze therein on thee; Yet eyes this cunning want to grace their art, They draw but what they see, know not the heart 25 Let those who are in favour with their stars, Of public honour and proud titles boast, Whilst I whom fortune of such triumph bars Unlooked for joy in that I honour most; Great princes' favourites their fair leaves spread, But as the marigold at the sun's eye, And in themselves their pride lies buried, For at a frown they in their glory die 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 Till whatsoever star that guides my moving, Points on me graciously with fair aspect, And puts apparel on my tattered loving, To show me worthy of thy sweet respect, Then may I dare to boast how I do love thee, Till then, not show my head where thou mayst prove me For then my thoughts (from far where I abide) Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee, And keep my drooping eyelids open wide, Looking on darkness which the blind do see And each (though enemies to either's reign) Do in consent shake hands to torture me, The one by toil, the other to complain How far I toil, still farther off from thee I tell the day to please him thou art bright, And dost him grace when clouds do blot the heaven So flatter I the swart-complexioned night, When sparkling stars twire not thou gild'st the even But day doth daily draw my sorrows longer, And night doth nightly make grief's length seem stronger 29 When in disgrace with Fortune and men's eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state, And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries, And look upon my self and curse my fate, Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, Featured like him, like him with friends possessed, Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope, With what I most enjoy contented least, Yet in these thoughts my self almost despising, Haply I think on thee, and then my state, (Like to the lark at break of day arising From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven's gate, For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings, That then I scorn to change my state with kings How many a holy and obsequious tear Hath dear religious love stol'n from mine eye, As interest of the dead, which now appear, But things removed that hidden in thee lie 32 If thou survive my well-contented day, When that churl death my bones with dust shall cover And shalt by fortune once more re-survey These poor rude lines of thy deceased lover 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 But since he died and poets better prove, Theirs for their style I'll read, his for his love' Even so my sun one early morn did shine, With all triumphant splendour on my brow, But out alack, he was but one hour mine, The region cloud hath masked him from me now Yet him for this, my love no whit disdaineth, Suns of the world may stain, when heaven's sun staineth 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 Nor can thy shame give physic to my grief, Though thou repent, yet I have still the loss, Th' offender's sorrow lends but weak relief To him that bears the strong offence's cross Ah but those tears are pearl which thy love sheds, And they are rich, and ransom all ill deeds Look what is best, that best I wish in thee, This wish I have, then ten times happy me If my slight muse do please these curious days, The pain be mine, but thine shall be the praise If I lose thee, my loss is my love's gain, And losing her, my friend hath found that loss, Both find each other, and I lose both twain, And both for my sake lay on me this cross, But here's the joy, my friend and I are one, Sweet flattery, then she loves but me alone 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 44 If the dull substance of my flesh were thought, Injurious distance should not stop my way, For then despite of space I would be brought, From limits far remote, where thou dost stay, No matter then although my foot did stand Upon the farthest earth removed from thee, For nimble thought can jump both sea and land, As soon as think the place where he would be 45 The other two, slight air, and purging fire, Are both with thee, wherever I abide, The first my thought, the other my desire, These present-absent with swift motion slide This told, I joy, but then no longer glad, I send them back again and straight grow sad 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 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 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 48 How careful was I when I took my way, Each trifle under truest bars to thrust, That to my use it might unused stay From hands of falsehood, in sure wards of trust! But thou, to whom my jewels trifles are, Most worthy comfort, now my greatest grief, Thou best of dearest, and mine only care, Art left the prey of every vulgar thief 50 How heavy do I journey on the way, When what I seek (my weary travel's end) Doth teach that case and that repose to say 'Thus far the miles are measured from thy friend.' The beast that bears me, tired with my woe, Plods dully on, to bear that weight in me, As if by some instinct the wretch did know His rider loved not speed being made from thee 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 52 So am I as the rich whose blessed key, Can bring him to his sweet up-locked treasure, The which he will not every hour survey, For blunting the fine point of seldom pleasure Therefore are feasts so solemn and so rare, Since seldom coming in that long year set, Like stones of worth they thinly placed are, Or captain jewels in the carcanet The canker blooms have full as deep a dye, As the perfumed tincture of the roses, Hang on such thorns, and play as wantonly, When summer's breath their masked buds discloses But for their virtue only is their show, They live unwooed, and unrespected fade, Die to themselves 'Gainst death, and all-oblivious enmity Shall you pace forth, your praise shall still find room, Even in the eyes of all posterity That wear this world out to the ending doom So love be thou, although to-day thou fill Thy hungry eyes, even till they wink with fulness, To-morrow see again, and do not kill The spirit of love, with a perpetual dulness Let this sad interim like the ocean be Which parts the shore, where two contracted new, Come daily to the banks, that when they see That I might see what the old world could say, To this composed wonder of your frame, Whether we are mended, or whether better they, Or whether revolution be the same 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 61 Is it thy will, thy image should keep open My heavy eyelids to the weary night? Dost thou desire my slumbers should be broken, While shadows like to thee do mock my sight? Is it thy spirit that thou send'st from thee So far from home into my deeds to pry, To find out shames and idle hours in me, The scope and tenure of thy jealousy? O no, thy love though much, is not so great, It is my love that keeps mine eye awake, Mine own true love that doth my rest defeat, To play the watchman ever for thy sake For thee watch I, whilst thou dost wake elsewhere, From me far off, with others all too near Methinks no face so gracious is as mine, No shape so true, no truth of such account, And for my self mine own worth do define, As I all other in all worths surmount 63 Against my love shall be as I am now With Time's injurious hand crushed and o'erworn, When hours have drained his blood and filled his brow With lines and wrinkles, when his youthful morn Hath travelled on to age's steepy night, And all those beauties whereof now he's king Are vanishing, or vanished out of sight, Stealing away the treasure of his spring His beauty shall in these black lines be seen, And they shall live, and he in them still green 67 Ah wherefore with infection should he live, And with his presence grace impiety, That sin by him advantage should achieve, And lace it self with his society? Why should false painting imitate his cheek, And steal dead seeming of his living hue? Why should poor beauty indirectly seek, Roses of shadow, since his rose is true? Why should he live, now nature bankrupt is, Beggared of blood to blush through lively veins, For she hath no exchequer now but his, And proud of many, lives upon his gains? O him she stores, to show what wealth she had, In days long since, before these last so bad Before the golden tresses of the dead, The right of sepulchres, were shorn away, To live a second life on second head, Ere beauty's dead fleece made another gay 69 Those parts of thee that the world's eye doth view, Want nothing that the thought of hearts can mend Thy outward thus with outward praise is crowned, But those same tongues that give thee so thine own, In other accents do this praise confound By seeing farther than the eye hath shown They look into the beauty of thy mind, And that in guess they measure by thy deeds, Then churls their thoughts (although their eyes were kind) To thy fair flower add the rank smell of weeds Thou hast passed by the ambush of young days, Either not assailed, or victor being charged, Yet this thy praise cannot be so thy praise, To tie up envy, evermore enlarged, If some suspect of ill masked not thy show, Then thou alone kingdoms of hearts shouldst owe Nay if you read this line, remember not, The hand that writ it, for I love you so, That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot, If thinking on me then should make you woe 73 That time of year thou mayst in me behold, When yellow leaves, or none, or few do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang 74 But be contented when that fell arrest, Without all bail shall carry me away, My life hath in this line some interest, Which for memorial still with thee shall stay When thou reviewest this, thou dost review, The very part was consecrate to thee, The earth can have but earth, which is his due, My spirit is thine the better part of me, So then thou hast but lost the dregs of life, The prey of worms, my body being dead, The coward conquest of a wretch's knife, Too base of thee to be remembered, The worth of that, is that which it contains, And that is this, and this with thee remains 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 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 Then thank him not for that which he doth say, Since what he owes thee, thou thy self dost pay 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 rehearse, When all the breathers of this world are dead, You still shall live (such virtue hath my pen) Where breath most breathes, even in the mouths of men 82 I grant thou wert not married to my muse, And therefore mayst without attaint o'erlook The dedicated words which writers use Of their fair subject, blessing every book Thou art as fair in knowledge as in hue, Finding thy worth a limit past my praise, And therefore art enforced to seek anew, Some fresher stamp of the time-bettering days And their gross painting might be better used, Where cheeks need blood, in thee it is abused 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 He nor that affable familiar ghost Which nightly gulls him with intelligence, As victors of my silence cannot boast, I was not sick of any fear from thence But when your countenance filled up his line, Then lacked I matter, that enfeebled mine 87 Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing, And like enough thou know'st thy estimate, The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing 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 And I by this will be a gainer too, For bending all my loving thoughts on thee, The injuries that to my self I do, Doing thee vantage, double-vantage me If thou wilt leave me, do not leave me last, When other petty griefs have done their spite, But in the onset come, so shall I taste At first the very worst of fortune's might And other strains of woe, which now seem woe, Compared with loss of thee, will not seem so 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 And every humour hath his adjunct pleasure, Wherein it finds a joy above the rest, But these particulars are not my measure, All these I better in one general best But heaven in thy creation did decree, That in thy face sweet love should ever dwell, Whate'er thy thoughts, or thy heart's workings be, Thy looks should nothing thence, but sweetness tell They rightly do inherit heaven's graces, And husband nature's riches from expense, Tibey are the lords and owners of their faces, Others, but stewards of their excellence The summer's flower is to the summer sweet, Though to it self, it only live and die, But if that flower with base infection meet, The basest weed outbraves his dignity O what a mansion have those vices got, Which for their habitation chose out thee, Where beauty's veil doth cover every blot, And all things turns to fair, that eyes can see! Take heed (dear heart) of this large privilege, The hardest knife ill-used doth lose his edge 97 How like a winter hath my absence been From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year! What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen! What old December's bareness everywhere! And yet this time removed was summer's time, The teeming autumn big with rich increase, Bearing the wanton burden of the prime, Like widowed wombs after their lords' decease 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 Or if they sing, 'tis with so dull a cheer, That leaves look pale, dreading the winter's near Nor did I wonder at the lily's white, Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose, They were but sweet, but figures of delight The lily I condemned for thy hand, And buds of marjoram had stol'n thy hair, The roses fearfully on thorns did stand, One blushing shame, another white despair More flowers I noted, yet I none could see, But sweet, or colour it had stol'n from thee Give my love fame faster than Time wastes life, So thou prevent'st his scythe, and crooked knife 102 My love is strengthened though more weak in seeming, I love not less, though less the show appear, That love is merchandized, whose rich esteeming, The owner's tongue doth publish every where 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 Fair, kind, and true, is all my argument, Fair, kind, and true, varying to other words, And in this change is my invention spent, Three themes in one, which wondrous scope affords So all their praises are but prophecies Of this our time, all you prefiguring, And for they looked but with divining eyes, They had not skill enough your worth to sing but by all above, These blenches gave my heart another youth, And worse essays proved thee my best of love 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 For if it see the rud'st or gentlest sight, The most sweet favour or deformed'st creature, The mountain, or the sea, the day, or night 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 115 Those lines that I before have writ do lie, Even those that said I could not love you dearer, Yet then my judgment knew no reason why, My most full flame should afterwards burn clearer, But reckoning time, whose millioned accidents Creep in 'twixt vows, and change decrees of kings, Tan sacred beauty, blunt the sharp'st intents, Divert strong minds to the course of alt'ring things 116 Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments, love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come, Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom 117 Accuse me thus, that I have scanted all, Wherein I should your great deserts repay, Forgot upon your dearest love to call, Whereto all bonds do tie me day by day, That I have frequent been with unknown minds, And given to time your own dear-purchased right, That I have hoisted sail to all the winds Which should transport me farthest from your sight Even so being full of your ne'er-cloying sweetness, To bitter sauces did I frame my feeding; And sick of welfare found a kind of meetness, To be diseased ere that there was true needing 121 'Tis better to be vile than vile esteemed, When not to be, receives reproach of being, And the just pleasure lost, which is so deemed, Not by our feeling, but by others' seeing 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 Or at the least, so long as brain and heart Have faculty by nature to subsist, Till each to razed oblivion yield his part Of thee, thy record never can be missed That poor retention could not so much hold, Nor need I tallies thy dear love to score, Therefore to give them from me was I bold, To trust those tables that receive thee more 123 No! Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change, Thy pyramids built up with newer might To me are nothing novel, nothing strange, They are but dressings Of a former sight Our dates are brief, and therefore we admire, What thou dost foist upon us that is old, And rather make them born to our desire, Than think that we before have heard them told 124 If my dear love were but the child of state, It might for Fortune's bastard be unfathered, As subject to time's love or to time's hate, Weeds among weeds, or flowers with flowers gathered 125 Were't aught to me I bore the canopy, With my extern the outward honouring, Or laid great bases for eternity, Which proves more short than waste or ruining? Have I not seen dwellers on form and favour Lose all, and more by paying too much rent For compound sweet; forgoing simple savour, Pitiful thrivers in their gazing spent? No, let me be obsequious in thy heart, And take thou my oblation, poor but free, Which is not mixed with seconds, knows no art, But mutual render, only me for thee Who hast by waning grown, and therein show'st, Thy lovers withering, as thy sweet self grow'st 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 To be so tickled they would change their state And situation with those dancing chips, O'er whom thy fingers walk with gentle gait, Making dead wood more blest than living lips, Since saucy jacks so happy are in this, Give them thy fingers, me thy lips to kiss 129 Th' expense of spirit in a waste of shame Is lust in action, and till action, lust Is perjured, murd'rous, bloody full of blame, Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust, Enjoyed no sooner but despised straight, Past reason hunted, and no sooner had Past reason hated as a swallowed bait, On purpose laid to make the taker mad All this the world well knows yet none knows well, To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell 130 My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun, Coral is far more red, than her lips red, If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun I have seen roses damasked, red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks, And in some perfumes is there more delight, Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks 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 Prison my heart in thy steel bosom's ward, But then my friend's heart let my poor heart bail, Whoe'er keeps me, let my heart be his guard, Thou canst not then use rigour in my gaol Him have I lost, thou hast both him and me, He pays the whole, and yet am I not free Then in the number let me pass untold, Though in thy store's account I one must be, For nothing hold me, so it please thee hold, That nothing me, a something sweet to thee Make but my name thy love, and love that still, And then thou lov'st me for my name is Will 137 Thou blind fool Love, what dost thou to mine eyes, That they behold and see not what they see? They know what beauty is, see where it lies, Yet what the best is, take the worst to be 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 138 When my love swears that she is made of truth, I do believe her though I know she lies, That she might think me some untutored youth, Unlearned in the world's false subtleties 139 O call not me to justify the wrong, That thy unkindness lays upon my heart, Wound me not with thine eye but with thy tongue, Use power with power, and slay me not by art, Tell me thou lov'st elsewhere; but in my sight, Dear heart forbear to glance thine eye aside, What need'st thou wound with cunning when thy might Is more than my o'erpressed defence can bide? Let me excuse thee, ah my love well knows, Her pretty looks have been mine enemies, And therefore from my face she turns my foes, That they elsewhere might dart their injuries If I might teach thee wit better it were, Though not to love, yet love to tell me so, As testy sick men when their deaths be near, No news but health from their physicians know Nor are mine cars with thy tongue's tune delighted, Nor tender feeling to base touches prone, Nor taste, nor smell, desire to be invited To any sensual feast with thee alone 142 Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate, Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving, O but with mine, compare thou thine own state, And thou shalt find it merits not reproving, Or if it do, not from those lips of thine, That have profaned their scarlet ornaments, And sealed false bonds of love as oft as mine, Robbed others' beds' revenues of their rents 143 Lo as a careful huswife runs to catch, One of her feathered creatures broke away, Sets down her babe and makes all swift dispatch In pursuit of the thing she would have stay 144 Two loves I have of comfort and despair, Which like two spirits do suggest me still, The better angel is a man right fair And whether that my angel be turned fiend, Suspect I may, yet not directly tell, But being both from me both to each friend, I guess one angel in another's hell 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 no, How can it? O how can love's eye be true, That is so vexed with watching and with tears? No marvel then though I mistake my view, The sun it self sees not, till heaven clears 150 O from what power hast thou this powerful might, With insufficiency my heart to sway, To make me give the lie to my true sight, And swear that brightness doth not grace the day? Whence hast thou this becoming of things ill, That in the very refuse of thy deeds, There is such strength and warrantise of skill, That in my mind thy worst all best exceeds? Who taught thee how to make me love thee more, The more I hear and see just cause of hate? O though I love what others do abhor, With others thou shouldst not abhor my state But why of two oaths' breach do I accuse thee, When I break twenty? I am perjured most, For all my vows are oaths but to misuse thee Oaths of thy love, thy truth, thy constancy, And to enlighten thee gave eyes to blindness, Or made them swear against the thing they see 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 He hath abandon'd his physicians, madam; under whose practices he hath persecuted time with hope, and finds no other advantage in the process but only the losing of hope by time Would, for the King's sake, he were living! I think it would be the death of the King's disease To speak on the part of virginity is to accuse your mothers; which is most infallible disobedience Within ten year it will make itself ten, which is a goodly increase; and the principal itself not much the worse Virginity, like an old courtier, wears her cap out of fashion, richly suited but unsuitable; just like the brooch and the toothpick, which wear not now it looks ill, it eats drily; marry, 'tis a wither'd pear; it was formerly better; marry, yet 'tis a wither'd pear but the composition that your valour and fear makes in you is a virtue of a good wing, and I like the wear well I will return perfect courtier; in the which my instruction shall serve to naturalize thee, so thou wilt be capable of a courtier's counsel, and understand what advice shall thrust upon thee; else thou diest in thine unthankfulness, and thine ignorance makes thee away 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 Youth, thou bear'st thy father's face; Frank nature, rather curious than in haste, Hath well compos'd thee In his youth He had the wit which I can well observe To-day in our young lords; but they may jest Till their own scorn return to them unnoted Ere they can hide their levity in honour Who were below him He us'd as creatures of another place; And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks, Making them proud of his humility In their poor praise he humbled Would I were with him! He would always say- Methinks I hear him now; his plausive words He scatter'd not in ears, but grafted them To grow there, and to bear- 'Let me not live'- This his good melancholy oft began, On the catastrophe and heel of pastime, When it was out-'Let me not live' quoth he 'After my flame lacks oil, to be the snuff Of younger spirits, whose apprehensive senses All but new things disdain; whose judgments are Mere fathers of their garments; whose constancies Expire before their fashions.' This he wish'd Madam, the care I have had to even your content I wish might be found in the calendar of my past endeavours; for then we wound our modesty, and make foul the clearness of our deservings, when of ourselves we publish them 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 Service is no heritage; and I think I shall never have the blessing of God till I have issue o' my body; for they say bames are blessings [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 Would God would serve the world so all the year! We'd find no fault with the tithe-woman, if I were the parson 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 That man should be at woman's command, and yet no hurt done! Though honesty be no puritan, yet it will do no hurt; it will wear the surplice of humility over the black gown of a big heart Fortune, she said, was no goddess, that had put such difference betwixt their two estates; Love no god, that would not extend his might only where qualities were level; Diana no queen of virgins, that would suffer her poor knight surpris'd without rescue in the first assault, or ransom afterward By our remembrances of days foregone, Such were our faults, or then we thought them none Come, come, disclose The state of your affection; for your passions Have to the full appeach'd You know my father left me some prescriptions Of rare and prov'd effects, such as his reading And manifest experience had collected For general sovereignty; and that he will'd me In heedfull'st reservation to bestow them, As notes whose faculties inclusive were More than they were in note Amongst the rest There is a remedy, approv'd, set down, To cure the desperate languishings whereof The King is render'd lost My lord your son made me to think of this, Else Paris, and the medicine, and the King, Had from the conversation of my thoughts Haply been absent then There's something in't More than my father's skill, which was the great'st Of his profession, that his good receipt Shall for my legacy be sanctified By th' luckiest stars in heaven; and, would your honour But give me leave to try success, I'd venture The well-lost life of mine on his Grace's cure Use a more spacious ceremony to the noble lords; you have restrain'd yourself within the list of too cold an adieu Be more expressive to them; for they wear themselves in the cap of the time; there do muster true gait; eat, speak, and move, under the influence of the most receiv'd star; and though the devil lead the measure, such are to be followed O, will you eat No grapes, my royal fox? Yes, but you will My noble grapes, an if my royal fox Could reach them Great floods have flown From simple sources, and great seas have dried When miracles have by the greatest been denied Fare thee well, kind maid; Thy pains, not us'd, must by thyself be paid; Proffers not took reap thanks for their reward 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 Methinks in thee some blessed spirit doth speak His powerful sound within an organ weak; And what impossibility would slay In common sense, sense saves another way Exempted be from me the arrogance To choose from forth the royal blood of France, My low and humble name to propagate With any branch or image of thy state; But such a one, thy vassal, whom I know Is free for me to ask, thee to bestow 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 It is like a barber's chair, that fits all buttocks-the pin buttock, the quatch buttock, the brawn buttock, or any buttock As fit as ten groats is for the hand of an attorney, as your French crown for your taffety punk, as Tib's rush for Tom's forefinger, as a pancake for Shrove Tuesday, a morris for Mayday, as the nail to his hole, the cuckold to his horn, as a scolding quean to a wrangling knave, as the nun's lip to the friar's mouth; nay, as the pudding to his skin To be young again, if we could, I will be a fool in question, hoping to be the wiser by your answer Do all they deny her? An they were sons of mine I'd have them whipt; or I would send them to th' Turk to make eunuchs of There's one grape yet; I am sure thy father drunk wine-but if thou be'st not an ass, I am a youth of fourteen; I have known thee already My wife, my liege! I shall beseech your Highness, In such a business give me leave to use The help of mine own eyes If she be All that is virtuous-save what thou dislik'st, A poor physician's daughter-thou dislik'st Of virtue for the name; but do not so 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 What should be said? If thou canst like this creature as a maid, I can create the rest Yet the scarfs and the bannerets about thee did manifoldly dissuade me from believing thee a vessel of too great a burden Do not plunge thyself too far in anger, lest thou hasten thy trial; which if-Lord have mercy on thee for a hen! So, my good window of lattice, fare thee well; thy casement I need not open, for I look through thee 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 You have made shift to run into 't, boots and spurs and all, like him that leapt into the custard; and out of it you'll run again, rather than suffer question for your residence 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 This drives me to entreat you That presently you take your way for home, And rather muse than ask why I entreat you; For my respects are better than they seem, And my appointments have in them a need Greater than shows itself at the first view To you that know them not Where are my other men, monsieur? Farewell! Exit HELENA Go thou toward home, where I will never come Whilst I can shake my sword or hear the drum Welcome shall they be And all the honours that can fly from us Shall on them settle Your unfortunate son, BERTRAM.' This is not well, rash and unbridled boy, To fly the favours of so good a king, To pluck his indignation on thy head By the misprizing of a maid too virtuous For the contempt of empire So say I, madam, if he run away, as I hear he does the danger is in standing to 't; that's the loss of men, though it be the getting of children We met him thitherward; for thence we came, And, after some dispatch in hand at court, Thither we bend again I will entreat you, when you see my son, To tell him that his sword can never win The honour that he loses 'Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France.' Nothing in France until he has no wife! Thou shalt have none, Rousillon, none in France Then hast thou all again 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 When haply he shall hear that she is gone He will return; and hope I may that she, Hearing so much, will speed her foot again, Led hither by pure love It is reported that he has taken their great'st commander; and that with his own hand he slew the Duke's brother I know that knave, hang him! one Parolles; a filthy officer he is in those suggestions for the young earl their promises, enticements, oaths, tokens, and all these engines of lust, are not the things they go under; many a maid hath been seduced by them; and the misery is, example, that so terrible shows in the wreck of maidenhood, cannot for all that dissuade succession, but that they are limed with the twigs that threatens them I hope I need not to advise you further; but I hope your own grace will keep you where you are, though there were no further danger known but the modesty which is so lost Please it this matron and this gentle maid To eat with us to-night; the charge and thanking Shall be for me, and, to requite you further, I will bestow some precepts of this virgin, Worthy the note I with a troop of Florentines will suddenly surprise him; such I will have whom I am sure he knows not from the enemy 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 If you misdoubt me that I am not she, I know not how I shall assure you further But I shall lose the grounds I work upon A ring the County wears That downward hath succeeded in his house From son to son some four or five descents Since the first father wore it But couch, ho! here he comes; to beguile two hours in a sleep, and then to return and swear the lies he forges What the devil should move me to undertake the recovery of this drum, being not ignorant of the impossibility, and knowing I had no such purpose? I must give myself some hurts, and say I got them in exploit Wherefore, what's the instance? Tongue, I must put you into a butterwoman's mouth, and buy myself another of Bajazet's mule, if you prattle me into these perils I would the cutting of my garments would serve the turn, or the breaking of my Spanish sword If there be here German, or Dane, Low Dutch, Italian, or French, let him speak to me; I'll discover that which shall undo the Florentine The General is content to spare thee yet; And, hoodwink'd as thou art, will lead thee on To gather from thee O, let me live, And all the secrets of our camp I'll show, Their force, their purposes Go, tell the Count Rousillon and my brother We have caught the woodcock, and will keep him muffled Till we do hear from them I was compell'd to her; but I love the By love's own sweet constraint, and will for ever Do thee all rights of service 'Tis not the many oaths that makes the truth, But the plain single vow that is vow'd true Here, take my ring; My house, mine honour, yea, my life, be thine, And I'll be bid by thee When midnight comes, knock at my chamber window; I'll order take my mother shall not hear Now will I charge you in the band of truth, When you have conquer'd my yet maiden bed, Remain there but an hour, nor speak to me And on your finger in the night I'll put Another ring, that what in time proceeds May token to the future our past deeds My mother told me just how he would woo, As if she sat in's heart; she says all men Have the like oaths There is something in't that stings his nature; for on the reading it he chang'd almost into another man He hath perverted a young gentlewoman here in Florence, of a most chaste renown; and this night he fleshes his will in the spoil of her honour He hath given her his monumental ring, and thinks himself made in the unchaste composition We will not meddle with him till he come; for his presence must be the whip of the other The stronger part of it by her own letters, which makes her story true even to the point of her death Her death itself, which could not be her office to say is come, was faithfully confirm'd by the rector of the place Ay, and the particular confirmations, point from point, to the full arming of the verity His confession is taken, and it shall be read to his face; if your lordship be in't, as I believe you are, you must have the patience to hear it 'Five or six thousand horse' I said-I will say true- 'or thereabouts' set down, for I'll speak truth Nay, by your leave, hold your hands; though I know his brains are forfeit to the next tile that falls 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 In good sadness, I do not know; either it is there or it is upon a file with the Duke's other letters in my tent My meaning in't, I protest, was very honest in the behalf of the maid; for I knew the young Count to be a dangerous and lascivious boy, who is a whale to virginity, and devours up all the fry it finds [Reads] 'When he swears oaths, bid him drop gold, and take it; After he scores, he never pays the score We'll see what may be done, so you confess freely; therefore, once more to this Captain Dumain 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 E'en a crow o' th' same nest; not altogether so great as the first in goodness, but greater a great deal in evil He excels his brother for a coward; yet his brother is reputed one of the best that is A plague of all drums! Only to seem to deserve well, and to beguile the supposition of that lascivious young boy the Count, have I run into this danger But, O strange men! That can such sweet use make of what they hate, When saucy trusting of the cozen'd thoughts Defiles the pitchy night Faith, sir, 'a has an English name; but his fisnomy is more hotter in France than there I am a woodland fellow, sir, that always loved a great fire; and the master I speak of ever keeps a good fire Go thy ways, I begin to be aweary of thee; and I tell thee so before, because I would not fall out with thee If I put any tricks upon 'em, sir, they shall be jades' tricks, which are their own right by the law of nature Faith, there's a dozen of 'em, with delicate fine hats, and most courteous feathers, which bow the head and nod at every man I do beseech you, sir, Since you are like to see the King before me, Commend the paper to his gracious hand; Which I presume shall render you no blame, But rather make you thank your pains for it Out upon thee, knave! Dost thou put upon me at once both the office of God and the devil? One brings the in grace, and the other brings thee out 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 the young lord Did to his Majesty, his mother, and his lady, Offence of mighty note; but to himself The greatest wrong of all But to the brightest beams Distracted clouds give way; so stand thou forth; The time is fair again Let's take the instant by the forward top; For we are old, and on our quick'st decrees Th' inaudible and noiseless foot of Time Steals ere we can effect them Thence it came That she whom all men prais'd, and whom myself, Since I have lost, have lov'd, was in mine eye The dust that did offend it That thou didst love her, strikes some scores away From the great compt; but love that comes too late, Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried, To the great sender turns a sour offence, Crying 'That's good that's gone.' Our rash faults Make trivial price of serious things we have, Not knowing them until we know their grave Oft our displeasures, to ourselves unjust, Destroy our friends, and after weep their dust; Our own love waking cries to see what's done, While shameful hate sleeps out the afternoon My gracious sovereign, Howe'er it pleases you to take it so, The ring was never hers Noble she was, and thought I stood engag'd; but when I had subscrib'd To mine own fortune, and inform'd her fully I could not answer in that course of honour As she had made the overture, she ceas'd, In heavy satisfaction, and would never Receive the ring again If you shall marry, You give away this hand, and that is mine; You give away heaven's vows, and those are mine; You give away myself, which is known mine; For I by vow am so embodied yours That she which marries you must marry me, Either both or none Yet I was in that credit with them at that time that I knew of their going to bed; and of other motions, as promising her marriage, and things which would derive me ill will to speak of; therefore I will not speak what I know Great King, I am no strumpet, by my life; I am either maid, or else this old man's wife No, my good lord; 'Tis but the shadow of a wife you see, The name and not the thing Wait on me home, I'll make sport with thee; let thy curtsies alone, they are scurvy ones Perchance? Nay, and most like, You must not stay here longer; your dismission Is come from Caesar; therefore hear it, Antony Excellent falsehood! Why did he marry Fulvia, and not love her? I'll seem the fool I am not 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 No messenger but thine, and all alone To-night we'll wander through the streets and note The qualities of people Good now, some excellent fortune! Let me be married to three kings in a forenoon, and widow them all But soon that war had end, and the time's state Made friends of them, jointing their force 'gainst Caesar, Whose better issue in the war from Italy Upon the first encounter drave them Her length of sickness, with what else more serious Importeth thee to know, this bears What our contempts doth often hurl from us We wish it ours again; the present pleasure, By revolution low'ring, does become The opposite of itself It were pity to cast them away for nothing, though between them and a great cause they should be esteemed nothing When it pleaseth their deities to take the wife of a man from him, it shows to man the tailors of the earth; comforting therein that when old robes are worn out there are members to make new If there were no more women but Fulvia, then had you indeed a cut, and the case to be lamented your old smock brings forth a new petticoat; and indeed the tears live in an onion that should water this sorrow Sextus Pompeius Hath given the dare to Caesar, and commands The empire of the sea; our slippery people, Whose love is never link'd to the deserver Till his deserts are past, begin to throw Pompey the Great and all his dignities Upon his son; who, high in name and power, Higher than both in blood and life, stands up For the main soldier; whose quality, going on, The sides o' th' world may danger Madam, methinks, if you did love him dearly, You do not hold the method to enforce The like from him O, never was there queen So mightily betray'd! Yet at the first I saw the treasons planted They are so still, Or thou, the greatest soldier of the world, Art turn'd the greatest liar Look, prithee, Charmian, How this Herculean Roman does become The carriage of his chafe Our separation so abides and flies That thou, residing here, goes yet with me, And I, hence fleeting, here remain with thee Thy palate then did deign The roughest berry on the rudest hedge; Yea, like the stag when snow the pasture sheets, The barks of trees thou brows'd How much unlike art thou Mark Antony! Yet, coming from him, that great med'cine hath With his tinct gilded thee Lepidus flatters both, Of both is flatter'd; but he neither loves, Nor either cares for him Menas, I did not think This amorous surfeiter would have donn'd his helm For such a petty war; his soldiership Is twice the other twain But let us rear The higher our opinion, that our stirring Can from the lap of Egypt's widow pluck The ne'er-lust-wearied Antony Were't not that we stand up against them all, 'Twere pregnant they should square between themselves; For they have entertained cause enough To draw their swords But how the fear of us May cement their divisions, and bind up The petty difference we yet not know Your wife and brother Made wars upon me, and their contestation Was theme for you; you were the word of war I did inquire it, And have my learning from some true reports That drew their swords with you I do not much dislike the matter, but The manner of his speech; for't cannot be We shall remain in friendship, our conditions So diff'ring in their acts By this marriage All little jealousies, which now seem great, And all great fears, which now import their dangers, Would then be nothing With most gladness; And do invite you to my sister's view, Whither straight I'll lead you The poop was beaten gold; Purple the sails, and so perfumed that The winds were love-sick with them; the oars were silver, Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made The water which they beat to follow faster, As amorous of their strokes She did lie In her pavilion, cloth-of-gold, of tissue, O'erpicturing that Venus where we see The fancy out-work nature 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 silken tackle Swell with the touches of those flower-soft hands That yarely frame the office From the barge A strange invisible perfume hits the sense Of the adjacent wharfs 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 If thou dost play with him at any game, Thou art sure to lose; and of that natural luck He beats thee 'gainst the odds Yet, if thou say Antony lives, is well, Or friends with Caesar, or not captive to him, I'll set thee in a shower of gold, and hail Rich pearls upon thee Prithee, friend, Pour out the pack of matter to mine ear, The good and bad together These hands do lack nobility, that they strike A meaner than myself; since I myself Have given myself the cause Give to a gracious message An host of tongues; but let ill tidings tell Themselves when they be felt O, I would thou didst, So half my Egypt were submerg'd and made A cistern for scal'd snakes! Go, get thee hence O, that his fault should make a knave of thee That art not what th'art sure of! Get thee hence Go to the fellow, good Alexas; bid him Report the feature of Octavia, her years, Her inclination; let him not leave out The colour of her hair Exit ALEXAS Let him for ever go- let him not, Charmian- Though he be painted one way like a Gorgon, The other way's a Mars To you all three, The senators alone of this great world, Chief factors for the gods I do not know Wherefore my father should revengers want, Having a son and friends, since Julius Caesar, Who at Philippi the good Brutus ghosted, There saw you labouring for him What was't That mov'd pale Cassius to conspire? and what Made the all-honour'd honest Roman, Brutus, With the arm'd rest, courtiers of beauteous freedom, To drench the Capitol, but that they would Have one man but a man? And that is it Hath made me rig my navy, at whose burden The anger'd ocean foams; with which I meant To scourge th' ingratitude that despiteful Rome Cast on my noble father Thou canst not fear us, Pompey, with thy sails; We'll speak with thee at sea; at land thou know'st How much we do o'er-count thee Be pleas'd to tell us- For this is from the present- how you take The offers we have sent you No, Antony, take the lot; But, first or last, your fine Egyptian cookery Shall have the fame I think the policy of that purpose made more in the marriage than the love of the parties But you shall find the band that seems to tie their friendship together will be the very strangler of their amity He will to his Egyptian dish again; then shall the sighs of Octavia blow the fire up in Caesar, and, as I said before, that which is the strength of their amity shall prove the immediate author of their variance To be call'd into a huge sphere, and not to be seen to move in't, are the holes where eyes should be, which pitifully disaster the cheeks But entertain it, And though you think me poor, I am the man Will give thee all the world Come, let's all take hands, Till that the conquering wine hath steep'd our sense In soft and delicate Lethe These drums! these trumpets, flutes! what! Let Neptune hear we bid a loud farewell To these great fellows Noble Ventidius, Whilst yet with Parthian blood thy sword is warm The fugitive Parthians follow; spur through Media, Mesopotamia, and the shelters whither The routed fly He purposeth to Athens; whither, with what haste The weight we must convey with's will permit, We shall appear before him.- On, there; pass along Octavia weeps To part from Rome; Caesar is sad; and Lepidus, Since Pompey's feast, as Menas says, is troubled With the green sickness 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 Her motion and her station are as one; She shows a body rather than a life, A statue than a breather The good gods will mock me presently When I shall pray 'O, bless my lord and husband!' Undo that prayer by crying out as loud 'O, bless my brother!' Husband win, win brother, Prays, and destroys the prayer; no mid-way 'Twixt these extremes at all The Jove of power make me, most weak, most weak, Your reconciler! Wars 'twixt you twain would be As if the world should cleave, and that slain men Should solder up the rift When it appears to you where this begins, Turn your displeasure that way, for our faults Can never be so equal that your love Can equally move with them Then, world, thou hast a pair of chaps- no more; And throw between them all the food thou hast, They'll grind the one the other I' th' market-place, on a tribunal silver'd, Cleopatra and himself in chairs of gold Were publicly enthron'd; at the feet sat Caesarion, whom they call my father's son, And all the unlawful issue that their lust Since then hath made between them 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 He hath given his empire Up to a whore, who now are levying The kings o' th' earth for war Cheer your heart; Be you not troubled with the time, which drives O'er your content these strong necessities, But let determin'd things to destiny Hold unbewail'd their way Your presence needs must puzzle Antony; Take from his heart, take from his brain, from's time, What should not then be spar'd Sink Rome, and their tongues rot That speak against us! A charge we bear i' th' war, And, as the president of my kingdom, will Appear there for a man In Caesar's fleet Are those that often have 'gainst Pompey fought; Their ships are yare; yours heavy Another part of the plain CANIDIUS marcheth with his land army one way over the stage, and TAURUS, the Lieutenant of CAESAR, the other way That I beheld; Mine eyes did sicken at the sight and could not Endure a further view She once being loof'd, The noble ruin of her magic, Antony, Claps on his sea-wing, and, like a doting mallard, Leaving the fight in height, flies after her To Caesar will I render My legions and my horse; six kings already Show me the way of yielding I'll yet follow The wounded chance of Antony, though my reason Sits in the wind against me Leave me, I pray, a little; pray you now; Nay, do so, for indeed I have lost command; Therefore I pray you He at Philippi kept His sword e'en like a dancer, while I struck The lean and wrinkled Cassius; and 'twas I That the mad Brutus ended; he alone Dealt on lieutenantry, and no practice had In the brave squares of war Lord of his fortunes he salutes thee, and Requires to live in Egypt; which not granted, He lessens his requests and to thee sues To let him breathe between the heavens and earth, A private man in Athens The Queen Of audience nor desire shall fail, so she From Egypt drive her all-disgraced friend, Or take his life there Women are not In their best fortunes strong; but want will perjure The ne'er-touch'd vestal What though you fled From that great face of war, whose several ranges Frighted each other? Why should he follow? The itch of his affection should not then Have nick'd his captainship, at such a point, When half to half the world oppos'd, he being The mered question What, no more ceremony? See, my women! Against the blown rose may they stop their nose That kneel'd unto the buds Caesar entreats Not to consider in what case thou stand'st Further than he is Caesar Sir, sir, thou art so leaky That we must leave thee to thy sinking, for Thy dearest quit thee But it would warm his spirits To hear from me you had left Antony, And put yourself under his shroud, The universal landlord Ah, dear, if I be so, From my cold heart let heaven engender hail, And poison it in the source, and the first stone Drop in my neck; as it determines, so Dissolve my life! The next Caesarion smite! Till by degrees the memory of my womb, Together with my brave Egyptians all, By the discandying of this pelleted storm, Lie graveless, till the flies and gnats of Nile Have buried them for prey Where hast thou been, my heart? Dost thou hear, lady? If from the field I shall return once more To kiss these lips, I will appear in blood Call to me All my sad captains; fill our bowls once more; Let's mock the midnight bell The next time I do fight I'll make death love me; for I will contend Even with his pestilent scythe See it done; And feast the army; we have store to do't, And they have earn'd the waste [Aside to CLEOPATRA] 'Tis one of those odd tricks which sorrow shoots Out of the mind A thousand, sir, Early though't be, have on their riveted trim, And at the port expect you That he and Caesar might Determine this great war in single fight! Then, Antony- but now O my brave Emperor, this is fought indeed! Had we done so at first, we had droven them home With clouts about their heads Enter the city, clip your wives, your friends, Tell them your feats; whilst they with joyful tears Wash the congealment from your wounds and kiss The honour'd gashes whole Enter CLEOPATRA, attended [To SCARUS] Give me thy hand- To this great fairy I'll commend thy acts, Make her thanks bless thee Leap thou, attire and all, Through proof of harness to my heart, and there Ride on the pants triumphing Through Alexandria make a jolly march; Bear our hack'd targets like the men that owe them 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 Triple-turn'd whore! 'tis thou Hast sold me to this novice; and my heart Makes only wars on thee All come to this? The hearts That spaniel'd me at heels, to whom I gave Their wishes, do discandy, melt their sweets On blossoming Caesar; and this pine is bark'd That overtopp'd them all O this false soul of Egypt! this grave charm- Whose eye beck'd forth my wars and call'd them home, Whose bosom was my crownet, my chief end- Like a right gypsy hath at fast and loose Beguil'd me to the very heart of loss To th' monument! Mardian, go tell him I have slain myself; Say that the last I spoke was 'Antony' And word it, prithee, piteously Exit MARDIAN Off, pluck off! The sevenfold shield of Ajax cannot keep The battery from my heart 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 I, that with my sword Quarter'd the world, and o'er green Neptune's back With ships made cities, condemn myself to lack The courage of a woman; less noble mind Than she which by her death our Caesar tells 'I am conqueror of myself.' Thou art sworn, Eros, That, when the exigent should come- which now Is come indeed- when I should see behind me Th' inevitable prosecution of Disgrace and horror, that, on my command, Thou then wouldst kill me To do thus [Falling on his sword] I learn'd of thee Bear me, good friends, where Cleopatra bides; 'Tis the last service that I shall command you O sun, Burn the great sphere thou mov'st in! Darkling stand The varying shore o' th' world O Antony, Antony, Antony! Help, Charmian; help, Iras, help; Help, friends below! Let's draw him hither Here's sport indeed! How heavy weighs my lord! Our strength is all gone into heaviness; That makes the weight Had I great Juno's power, The strong-wing'd Mercury should fetch thee up, And set thee by Jove's side Noblest of men, woo't die? Hast thou no care of me? Shall I abide In this dull world, which in thy absence is No better than a sty? O, see, my women, [Antony dies] The crown o' th' earth doth melt No more but e'en a woman, and commanded By such poor passion as the maid that milks And does the meanest chares It were for me To throw my sceptre at the injurious gods; To tell them that this world did equal theirs Till they had stol'n our jewel Go to him, Dolabella, bid him yield; Being so frustrate, tell him he mocks The pauses that he makes If thou please To take me to thee, as I was to him I'll be to Caesar; if thou pleasest not, I yield thee up my life The round world Should have shook lions into civil streets, And citizens to their dens He is dead, Caesar, Not by a public minister of justice, Nor by a hired knife; but that self hand Which writ his honour in the acts it did Hath, with the courage which the heart did lend it, Splitted the heart Look you sad, friends? The gods rebuke me, but it is tidings To wash the eyes of kings I must perforce Have shown to thee such a declining day Or look on thine; we could not stall together In the whole world 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 Caesar sends greetings to the Queen of Egypt, And bids thee study on what fair demands Thou mean'st to have him grant thee Pray you tell him I am his fortune's vassal and I send him The greatness he has got Sir, I will eat no meat; I'll not drink, sir; If idle talk will once be necessary, I'll not sleep neither His face was as the heav'ns, and therein stuck A sun and moon, which kept their course and lighted The little O, the earth For his bounty, There was no winter in't; an autumn 'twas That grew the more by reaping If you apply yourself to our intents- Which towards you are most gentle- you shall find A benefit in this change; but if you seek To lay on me a cruelty by taking Antony's course, you shall bereave yourself Of my good purposes, and put your children To that destruction which I'll guard them from, If thereon you rely O slave, of no more trust Than love that's hir'd! What, goest thou back? Thou shalt Go back, I warrant thee; but I'll catch thine eyes Though they had wings O Caesar, what a wounding shame is this, That thou vouchsafing here to visit me, Doing the honour of thy lordliness To one so meek, that mine own servant should Parcel the sum of my disgraces by Addition of his envy! Say, good Caesar, That I some lady trifles have reserv'd, Immoment toys, things of such dignity As we greet modern friends withal; and say Some nobler token I have kept apart For Livia and Octavia, to induce Their mediation- must I be unfolded With one that I have bred? The gods! It smites me Beneath the fall I have Be it known that we, the greatest, are misthought For things that others do; and when we fall We answer others' merits in our name, Are therefore to be pitied 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 Why, that's the way To fool their preparation and to conquer Their most absurd intents Look you, the worm is not to be trusted but in the keeping of wise people; for indeed there is no goodness in the worm But truly, these same whoreson devils do the gods great harm in their women, for in every ten that they make the devils mar five I hear him mock The luck of Caesar, which the gods give men To excuse their after wrath Here on her breast There is a vent of blood, and something blown; The like is on her arm This is an aspic's trail; and these fig-leaves Have slime upon them, such as th' aspic leaves Upon the caves of Nile 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 Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that which God made, a poor unworthy brother of yours, with idleness The courtesy of nations allows you my better in that you are the first-born; but the same tradition takes not away my blood, were there twenty brothers betwixt us 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 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 Yet he's gentle; never school'd and yet learned; full of noble device; of all sorts enchantingly beloved; and, indeed, so much in the heart of the world, and especially of my own people, who best know him, that I am altogether misprised If my uncle, thy banished father, had banished thy uncle, the Duke my father, so thou hadst been still with me, I could have taught my love to take thy father for mine; so wouldst thou, if the truth of thy love to me were so righteously temper'd as mine is to thee Indeed, there is Fortune too hard for Nature, when Fortune makes Nature's natural the cutter-off of Nature's wit Peradventure this is not Fortune's work neither, but Nature's, who perceiveth our natural wits too dull to reason of such goddesses, and hath sent this natural for our whetstone; for always the dullness of the fool is the whetstone of the wits 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 I will tell you the beginning, and, if it please your ladyships, you may see the end; for the best is yet to do; and here, where you are, they are coming to perform it The eldest of the three wrestled with Charles, the Duke's wrestler; which Charles in a moment threw him, and broke three of his ribs, that there is little hope of life in him You must, if you stay here; for here is the place appointed for the wrestling, and they are ready to perform it Thou shouldst have better pleas'd me with this deed, Hadst thou descended from another house But fare thee well; thou art a gallant youth; I would thou hadst told me of another father Neither his daughter, if we judge by manners; But yet, indeed, the smaller is his daughter; The other is daughter to the banish'd Duke, And here detain'd by her usurping uncle, To keep his daughter company; whose loves Are dearer than the natural bond of sisters Exit LE BEAU Thus must I from the smoke into the smother; From tyrant Duke unto a tyrant brother No, thy words are too precious to be cast away upon curs; throw some of them at me; come, lame me with reasons Then there were two cousins laid up, when the one should be lam'd with reasons and the other mad without any They are but burs, cousin, thrown upon thee in holiday foolery; if we walk not in the trodden paths, our very petticoats will catch them 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 Thus do all traitors; If their purgation did consist in words, They are as innocent as grace itself Treason is not inherited, my lord; Or, if we did derive it from our friends, What's that to me? My father was no traitor She is too subtle for thee; and her smoothness, Her very silence and her patience, Speak to the people, and they pity her O my poor Rosalind! Whither wilt thou go? Wilt thou change fathers? I will give thee mine No, hath not? Rosalind lacks, then, the love Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one Therefore devise with me how we may fly, Whither to go, and what to bear with us; And do not seek to take your charge upon you, To bear your griefs yourself, and leave me out; For, by this heaven, now at our sorrows pale, Say what thou canst, I'll go along with thee Were it not better, Because that I am more than common tall, That I did suit me all points like a man? A gallant curtle-axe upon my thigh, A boar spear in my hand; and- in my heart Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will- We'll have a swashing and a martial outside, As many other mannish cowards have That do outface it with their semblances I'll have no worse a name than Jove's own page, And therefore look you call me Ganymede Come, shall we go and kill us venison? And yet it irks me the poor dappled fools, Being native burghers of this desert city, Should, in their own confines, with forked heads Have their round haunches gor'd Indeed, my lord, The melancholy Jaques grieves at that; And, in that kind, swears you do more usurp Than doth your brother that hath banish'd you 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 Show me the place; I love to cope him in these sullen fits, For then he's full of matter The ladies, her attendants of her chamber, Saw her abed, and in the morning early They found the bed untreasur'd of their mistress Hisperia, the Princess' gentlewoman, Confesses that she secretly o'erheard Your daughter and her cousin much commend The parts and graces of the wrestler That did but lately foil the sinewy Charles; And she believes, wherever they are gone, That youth is surely in their company Do this suddenly; And let not search and inquisition quail To bring again these foolish runaways O unhappy youth! Come not within these doors; within this roof The enemy of all your graces lives O good old man, how well in thee appears The constant service of the antique world, When service sweat for duty, not for meed! Thou art not for the fashion of these times, Where none will sweat but for promotion, And having that do choke their service up Even with the having; it is not so with thee I could find in my heart to disgrace my man's apparel, and to cry like a woman; but I must comfort the weaker vessel, as doublet and hose ought to show itself courageous to petticoat; therefore, courage, good Aliena 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 Under the greenwood tree Who loves to lie with me, And turn his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat, Come hither, come hither, come hither 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 SONG [All together here] Who doth ambition shun, And loves to live i' th' sun, Seeking the food he eats, And pleas'd with what he gets, Come hither, come hither, come hither If this uncouth forest yield anything savage, I will either be food for it or bring it for food to thee I must have liberty Withal, as large a charter as the wind, To blow on whom I please, for so fools have; And they that are most galled with my folly, They most must laugh 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 Invest me in my motley; give me leave To speak my mind, and I will through and through Cleanse the foul body of th' infected world, If they will patiently receive my medicine Most Mischievous foul sin, in chiding sin; For thou thyself hast been a libertine, As sensual as the brutish sting itself; And all th' embossed sores and headed evils That thou with license of free foot hast caught Wouldst thou disgorge into the general world 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 a soldier, Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard, Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon's mouth If that you were the good Sir Rowland's son, As you have whisper'd faithfully you were, And as mine eye doth his effigies witness Most truly limn'd and living in your face, Be truly welcome hither Thy lands and all things that thou dost call thine Worth seizure do we seize into our hands, Till thou canst quit thee by thy brother's mouth Of what we think against thee Now in respect it is in the fields, it pleaseth me well; but in respect it is not in the court, it is tedious Those that are good manners at the court are as ridiculous in the country as the behaviour of the country is most mockable at the court Most shallow man! thou worm's meat in respect of a good piece of flesh indeed! Learn of the wise, and perpend Wilt thou rest damn'd? God help thee, shallow man! God make incision in thee! thou art raw Then it will be the earliest fruit i' th' country; for you'll be rotten ere you be half ripe, and that's the right virtue of the medlar Thus Rosalinde of many parts By heavenly synod was devis'd, Of many faces, eyes, and hearts, To have the touches dearest priz'd O, yes, I heard them all, and more too; for some of them had in them more feet than the verses would bear Ay, but the feet were lame, and could not bear themselves without the verse, and therefore stood lamely in the verse I would thou could'st stammer, that thou mightst pour this conceal'd man out of thy mouth, as wine comes out of narrow-mouth'd bottle- either too much at once or none at all Will you sit down with me? and we two will rail against our mistress the world, and all our misery Marry, he trots hard with a young maid between the contract of her marriage and the day it is solemniz'd; if the interim be but a se'nnight, Time's pace is so hard that it seems the length of seven year With a thief to the gallows; for though he go as softly as foot can fall, he thinks himself too soon there With lawyers in the vacation; for they sleep between term and term, and then they perceive not how Time moves With this shepherdess, my sister; here in the skirts of the forest, like fringe upon a petticoat I have been told so of many; but indeed an old religious uncle of mine taught me to speak, who was in his youth an inland man; one that knew courtship too well, for there he fell in love I have heard him read many lectures against it; and I thank God I am not a woman, to be touch'd with so many giddy offences as he hath generally tax'd their whole sex withal A lean cheek, which you have not; a blue eye and sunken, which you have not; an unquestionable spirit, which you have not; a beard neglected, which you have not; but I pardon you for that, for simply your having in beard is a younger brother's revenue But you are no such man; you are rather point-device in your accoutrements, as loving yourself than seeming the lover of any other Love is merely a madness; and, I tell you, deserves as well a dark house and a whip as madmen do; and the reason why they are not so punish'd and cured is that the lunacy is so ordinary that the whippers are in love too And thus I cur'd him; and this way will I take upon me to wash your liver as clean as a sound sheep's heart, that there shall not be one spot of love in 't Go with me to it, and I'll show it you; and, by the way, you shall tell me where in the forest you live I am here with thee and thy goats, as the most capricious poet, honest Ovid, was among the Goths No, truly; for the truest poetry is the most feigning, and lovers are given to poetry; and what they swear in poetry may be said as lovers they do feign 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 'Many a man knows no end of his goods.' Right! Many a man has good horns and knows no end of them A nun of winter's sisterhood kisses not more religiously; the very ice of chastity is in them '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 But till that time Come not thou near me; and when that time comes, Afflict me with thy mocks, pity me not; As till that time I shall not pity thee Sweet youth, I pray you chide a year together; I had rather hear you chide than this man woo 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 Not very well; but I have met him oft; And he hath bought the cottage and the bounds That the old carlot once was master of But what care I for words? Yet words do well When he that speaks them pleases those that hear 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 [Exit JAQUES] Why, how now, Orlando! where have you been all this while? You a lover! An you serve me such another trick, never come in my sight more 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 Say 'a day' without the 'ever.' No, no, Orlando; men are April when they woo, December when they wed Make the doors upon a woman's wit, and it will out at the casement; shut that, and 'twill out at the key-hole; stop that, 'twill fly with the smoke out at the chimney 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 We must have your doublet and hose pluck'd over your head, and show the world what the bird hath done to her own nest O coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, that thou didst know how many fathom deep I am in love! But it cannot be sounded; my affection hath an unknown bottom, like the Bay of Portugal Women's gentle brain Could not drop forth such giant-rude invention, Such Ethiope words, blacker in their effect Than in their countenance The rank of osiers by the murmuring stream Left on your right hand brings you to the place This seen, Orlando did approach the man, And found it was his brother, his elder brother I do not shame To tell you what I was, since my conversion So sweetly tastes, being the thing I am Ay, I know who 'tis; he hath no interest in me in the world; here comes the man you mean '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 Therefore, you clown, abandon- which is in the vulgar leave- the society- which in the boorish is company- of this female- which in the common is woman- which together is 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 Neither call the giddiness of it in question, the poverty of her, the small acquaintance, my sudden wooing, nor her sudden consenting; but say with me, I love Aliena; say with her that she loves me; consent with both that we may enjoy each other But, O, how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes! By so much the more shall I to-morrow be at the height of heart-heaviness, by how much I shall think my brother happy in having what he wishes for If you do love Rosalind so near the heart as your gesture cries it out, when your brother marries Aliena shall you marry her I do desire it with all my heart; and I hope it is no dishonest desire to desire to be a woman of the world Between the acres of the rye, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, These pretty country folks would lie, In the spring time, &c This carol they began that hour, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, How that a life was but a flower, In the spring time, &c And therefore take the present time, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, For love is crowned with the prime, In the spring time, &c Truly, young gentlemen, though there was no great matter in the ditty, yet the note was very untuneable Keep you your word, O Duke, to give your daughter; You yours, Orlando, to receive his daughter; Keep your word, Phebe, that you'll marry me, Or else, refusing me, to wed this shepherd; Keep your word, Silvius, that you'll marry her If she refuse me; and from hence I go, To make these doubts all even My lord, the first time that I ever saw him Methought he was a brother to your daughter But, my good lord, this boy is forest-born, And hath been tutor'd in the rudiments Of many desperate studies by his uncle, Whom he reports to be a great magician, Obscured in the circle of this forest I did dislike the cut of a certain courtier's beard; he sent me word, if I said his beard was not cut well, he was in the mind it was The first, the Retort Courteous; the second, the Quip Modest; the third, the Reply Churlish; the fourth, the Reproof Valiant; the fifth, the Countercheck Quarrelsome; the sixth, the Lie with Circumstance; the seventh, the Lie Direct I knew when seven justices could not take up a quarrel; but when the parties were met themselves, one of them thought but of an If, as Then is there mirth in heaven, When earthly things made even Atone together Peace, ho! I bar confusion; 'Tis I must make conclusion Of these most strange events You and you no cross shall part; You and you are heart in heart; You to his love must accord, Or have a woman to your lord; You and you are sure together, As the winter to foul weather Whiles a wedlock-hymn we sing, Feed yourselves with questioning, That reason wonder may diminish, How thus we met, and these things finish SONG Wedding is great Juno's crown; O blessed bond of board and bed! 'Tis Hymen peoples every town; High wedlock then be honoured I am the second son of old Sir Rowland, That bring these tidings to this fair assembly First, in this forest let us do those ends That here were well begun and well begot; And after, every of this happy number, That have endur'd shrewd days and nights with us, Shall share the good of our returned fortune, According to the measure of their states If I heard you rightly, The Duke hath put on a religious life, And thrown into neglect the pompous court [To ORLANDO] You to a love that your true faith doth merit; [To OLIVER] You to your land, and love, and great allies [To SILVIUS] You to a long and well-deserved bed; [To TOUCHSTONE] And you to wrangling; for thy loving voyage Is but for two months victuall'd.- So to your pleasures; I am for other than for dancing measures It is not the fashion to see the lady the epilogue; but it is no more unhandsome than to see the lord the prologue Yet to good wine they do use good bushes; and good plays prove the better by the help of good epilogues What a case am I in then, that am neither a good epilogue, nor cannot insinuate with you in the behalf of a good play! I am not furnish'd like a beggar; therefore to beg will not become me 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 Thy substance, valued at the highest rate, Cannot amount unto a hundred marks; Therefore by law thou art condemn'd to die 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 The sailors sought for safety by our boat, And left the ship, then sinking-ripe, to us; My wife, more careful for the latter-born, Had fast'ned him unto a small spare mast, Such as sea-faring men provide for storms; To him one of the other twins was bound, Whilst I had been like heedful of the other 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 My youngest boy, and yet my eldest care, At eighteen years became inquisitive After his brother, and importun'd me That his attendant-so his case was like, Reft of his brother, but retain'd his name- Might bear him company in the quest of him; Whom whilst I laboured of a love to see, I hazarded the loss of whom I lov'd But here must end the story of my life; And happy were I in my timely death, Could all my travels warrant me they live Hapless, Aegeon, whom the fates have mark'd To bear the extremity of dire mishap! Now, trust me, were it not against our laws, Against my crown, my oath, my dignity, Which princes, would they, may not disannul, My soul should sue as advocate for thee But though thou art adjudged to the death, And passed sentence may not be recall'd But to our honour's great disparagement, Yet will I favour thee in what I can 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 This very day a Syracusian merchant Is apprehended for arrival here; And, not being able to buy out his life, According to the statute of the town, Dies ere the weary sun set in the west O-Sixpence that I had a Wednesday last To pay the saddler for my mistress' crupper? The saddler had it, sir; I kept it not Come, Dromio, come, these jests are out of season; Reserve them till a merrier hour than this My charge was but to fetch you from the mart Home to your house, the Phoenix, sir, to dinner What, wilt thou flout me thus unto my face, Being forbid? There, take you that, sir knave They say this town is full of cozenage; As, nimble jugglers that deceive the eye, Dark-working sorcerers that change the mind, Soul-killing witches that deform the body, Disguised cheaters, prating mountebanks, And many such-like liberties of sin; If it prove so, I will be gone the sooner A man is master of his liberty; Time is their master, and when they see time, They'll go or come The beasts, the fishes, and the winged fowls, Are their males' subjects, and at their controls Man, more divine, the master of all these, Lord of the wide world and wild wat'ry seas, Indu'd with intellectual sense and souls, Of more pre-eminence than fish and fowls, Are masters to their females, and their lords; Then let your will attend on their accords So thou, that hast no unkind mate to grieve thee, With urging helpless patience would relieve me; But if thou live to see like right bereft, This fool-begg'd patience in thee will be left Nay, he struck so plainly I could to well feel his blows; and withal so doubtfully that I could scarce understand them 'Where is the thousand marks I gave thee, villain?' 'The pig' quoth I 'is burn'd'; 'My gold!' quoth he 'I know' quoth he 'no house, no wife, no mistress.' So that my errand, due unto my tongue, I thank him, I bare home upon my shoulders; For, in conclusion, he did beat me there Am I so round with you, as you with me, That like a football you do spurn me thus? You spurn me hence, and he will spurn me hither; If I last in this service, you must case me in leather By computation and mine host's report I could not speak with Dromio since at first I sent him from the mart I did not see you since you sent me hence, Home to the Centaur, with the gold you gave me Because it is a blessing that he bestows on beasts, and what he hath scanted men in hair he hath given them in wit The time was once when thou unurg'd wouldst vow That never words were music to thine ear, That never object pleasing in thine eye, That never touch well welcome to thy hand, That never meat sweet-savour'd in thy taste, Unless I spake, or look'd, or touch'd, or carv'd to thee 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 What, was I married to her in my dream? Or sleep I now, and think I hear all this? What error drives our eyes and ears amiss? Until I know this sure uncertainty, I'll entertain the offer'd fallacy [Within] Mome, malt-horse, capon, coxcomb, idiot, patch! Either get thee from the door, or sit down at the hatch Dost thou conjure for wenches, that thou call'st for such store, When one is one too many? Go get thee from the door O Villain, thou hast stol'n both mine office and my name! The one ne'er got me credit, the other mickle blame A crow without feather? Master, mean you so? For a fish without a fin, there's a fowl without a feather; If a crow help us in, sirrah, we'll pluck a crow together Once this-your long experience of her wisdom, Her sober virtue, years, and modesty, Plead on her part some cause to you unknown; And doubt not, sir, but she will well excuse Why at this time the doors are made against you depart in patience, And let us to the Tiger all to dinner; And, about evening, come yourself alone To know the reason of this strange restraint I know a wench of excellent discourse, Pretty and witty; wild, and yet, too, gentle; There will we dine That chain will I bestow- Be it for nothing but to spite my wife- Upon mine hostess there; good sir, make haste Since mine own doors refuse to entertain me, I'll knock elsewhere, to see if they'll disdain me Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak; Lay open to my earthy-gross conceit, Smoth'red in errors, feeble, shallow, weak, The folded meaning of your words' deceit 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 Swart, like my shoe; but her face nothing like so clean kept; for why, she sweats, a man may go over shoes in the grime of it 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 There's none but witches do inhabit here, And therefore 'tis high time that I were hence But her fair sister, Possess'd with such a gentle sovereign grace, Of such enchanting presence and discourse, Hath almost made me traitor to myself; But, lest myself be guilty to self-wrong, I'll stop mine ears against the mermaid's song I thought to have ta'en you at the Porpentine; The chain unfinish'd made me stay thus long 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 I see a man here needs not live by shifts, When in the streets he meets such golden gifts Even just the sum that I do owe to you Is growing to me by Antipholus; And in the instant that I met with you He had of me a chain; at five o'clock I shall receive the money for the same A man is well holp up that trusts to you! I promised your presence and the chain; But neither chain nor goldsmith came to me Belike you thought our love would last too long, If it were chain'd together, and therefore came not Good signior, take the stranger to my house, And with you take the chain, and bid my wife Disburse the sum on the receipt thereof Fie, now you run this humour out of breath! Come, where's the chain? I pray you let me see it 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 To Adriana, villain, hie thee straight; Give her this key, and tell her in the desk That's cover'd o'er with Turkish tapestry There is a purse of ducats; let her send it 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 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 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 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 Enter DROMIO OF EPHESUS, with a rope's-end Here comes my man; I think he brings the money 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 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 Thou art a villain to impeach me thus; I'll prove mine honour and mine honesty Against thee presently, if thou dar'st stand Hath he not lost much wealth by wreck of sea? Buried some dear friend? Hath not else his eye Stray'd his affection in unlawful love? A sin prevailing much in youthful men Who give their eyes the liberty of gazing 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 By this, I think, the dial points at five; Anon, I'm sure, the Duke himself in person Comes this way to the melancholy vale, The place of death and sorry execution, Behind the ditches of the abbey here 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 Anon, I wot not by what strong escape, He broke from those that had the guard of him, And with his mad attendant and himself, Each one with ireful passion, with drawn swords, Met us again and, madly bent on us, Chas'd us away; till, raising of more aid, We came again to bind them 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 O mistress, mistress, shift and save yourself! My master and his man are both broke loose, Beaten the maids a-row and bound the doctor, Whose beard they have sing'd off with brands of fire; And ever, as it blaz'd, they threw on him Great pails of puddled mire to quench the hair My master preaches patience to him, and the while His man with scissors nicks him like a fool; And sure, unless you send some present help, Between them they will kill the conjurer Even now we hous'd him in the abbey here, And now he's there, past thought of human reason Justice, most gracious Duke; O, grant me justice! Even for the service that long since I did thee, When I bestrid thee in the wars, and took Deep scars to save thy life; even for the blood That then I lost for thee, now grant me justice 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 Speak, old Aegeon, if thou be'st the man That hadst a wife once call'd Aemilia, That bore thee at a burden two fair sons 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 These two Antipholus', these two so like, And these two Dromios, one in semblance- Besides her urging of her wreck at sea- These are the parents to these children, Which accidentally are met together And so do I, yet did she call me so; And this fair gentlewoman, her sister here, Did call me brother 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 We came into the world like brother and brother, And now let's go hand in hand, not one before another What authority surfeits on would relieve us; if they would yield us but the superfluity while it were wholesome, we might guess they relieved us humanely; but they think we are too dear The leanness that afflicts us, the object of our misery, is as an inventory to particularize their abundance; our sufferance is a gain to them I say unto you, what he hath done famously he did it to that end; though soft-conscienc'd men can be content to say it was for his country, he did it to please his mother and to be partly proud, which he is, even to the altitude of his virtue What work's, my countrymen, in hand? Where go you With bats and clubs? The matter? Speak, I pray you For the dearth, The gods, not the patricians, make it, and Your knees to them, not arms, must help Alack, You are transported by calamity Thither where more attends you; and you slander The helms o' th' state, who care for you like fathers, When you curse them as enemies 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 There was a time when all the body's members Rebell'd against the belly; thus accus'd it That only like a gulf it did remain I' th' midst o' th' body, idle and unactive, Still cupboarding the viand, never bearing Like labour with the rest; where th' other instruments Did see and hear, devise, instruct, walk, feel, And, mutually participate, did minister Unto the appetite and affection common Of the whole body With a kind of smile, Which ne'er came from the lungs, but even thus- For look you, I may make the belly smile As well as speak- it tauntingly replied To th' discontented members, the mutinous parts That envied his receipt; even so most fitly As you malign our senators for that They are not such as you I will tell you; If you'll bestow a small- of what you have little- Patience awhile, you'st hear the belly's answer 'True is it, my incorporate friends,' quoth he 'That I receive the general food at first Which you do live upon; and fit it is, Because I am the storehouse and the shop Of the whole body But, if you do remember, I send it through the rivers of your blood, Even to the court, the heart, to th' seat o' th' brain; And, through the cranks and offices of man, The strongest nerves and small inferior veins From me receive that natural competency Whereby they live What would you have, you curs, That like nor peace nor war? The one affrights you, The other makes you proud He that trusts to you, Where he should find you lions, finds you hares; Where foxes, geese; you are no surer, no, Than is the coal of fire upon the ice Or hailstone in the sun Hang 'em! They say! They'll sit by th' fire and presume to know What's done i' th' Capitol, who's like to rise, Who thrives and who declines; side factions, and give out Conjectural marriages, making parties strong, And feebling such as stand not in their liking Below their cobbled shoes Nay, these are almost thoroughly persuaded; For though abundantly they lack discretion, Yet are they passing cowardly 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 With these shreds They vented their complainings; which being answer'd, And a petition granted them- a strange one, To break the heart of generosity And make bold power look pale- they threw their caps As they would hang them on the horns o' th' moon, Shouting their emulation Is it not yours? What ever have been thought on in this state That could be brought to bodily act ere Rome Had circumvention? 'Tis not four days gone Since I heard thence; these are the words- I think I have the letter here;.yes, here it is The dearth is great; The people mutinous; and it is rumour'd, Cominius, Marcius your old enemy, Who is of Rome worse hated than of you, And Titus Lartius, a most valiant Roman, These three lead on this preparation Whither 'tis bent Methinks I hear hither your husband's drum; See him pluck Aufidius down by th' hair; As children from a bear, the Volsces shunning him Indeed, no, by your patience; I'll not over the threshold till my lord return from the wars Fie, you confine yourself most unreasonably; come, you must go visit the good lady that lies in I will wish her speedy strength, and visit her with my prayers; but I cannot go thither We'll break our walls Rather than they shall pound us up; our gates, Which yet seem shut, we have but pinn'd with rushes; They'll open of themselves Come on; If you'll stand fast we'll beat them to their wives, As they us to our trenches The Volsces fly, and MARCIUS follows them to the gates So, now the gates are ope; now prove good seconds; 'Tis for the followers fortune widens them, Not for the fliers Following the fliers at the very heels, With them he enters; who, upon the sudden, Clapp'd to their gates See here these movers that do prize their hours At a crack'd drachma! Cushions, leaden spoons, Irons of a doit, doublets that hangmen would Bury with those that wore them, these base slaves, Ere yet the fight be done, pack up Thou worthiest Marcius! Exit MARCIUS Go sound thy trumpet in the market-place; Call thither all the officers o' th' town, Where they shall know our mind Whiles we have struck, By interims and conveying gusts we have heard The charges of our friends 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 Where is that slave Which told me they had beat you to your trenches? Where is he? Call him hither But for our gentlemen, The common file- a plague! tribunes for them! The mouse ne'er shunn'd the cat as they did budge From rascals worse than they As I guess, Marcius, Their bands i' th' vaward are the Antiates, Of their best trust; o'er them Aufidius, Their very heart of hope Should they not, Well might they fester 'gainst ingratitude And tent themselves with death I do refuse it, And stand upon my common part with those That have beheld the doing By your patience, If 'gainst yourself you be incens'd, we'll put you- Like one that means his proper harm- in manacles, Then reason safely with you When you are hearing a matter between party and party, if you chance to be pinch'd with the colic, you make faces like mummers, set up the bloody flag against all patience, and, in roaring for a chamber-pot, dismiss the controversy bleeding, the more entangled by your hearing Come, come, you are well understood to be a perfecter giber for the table than a necessary bencher in the Capitol Look, here's a letter from him; the state hath another, his wife another; and I think there's one at home for you A letter for me! It gives me an estate of seven years' health; in which time I will make a lip at the physician 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 Ere in our own house I do shade my head, The good patricians must be visited; From whom I have receiv'd not only greetings, But with them change of honours I have lived To see inherited my very wishes, And the buildings of my fancy; only There's one thing wanting, which I doubt not but Our Rome will cast upon thee Know, good mother, I had rather be their servant in my way Than sway with them in theirs I heard him swear, Were he to stand for consul, never would he Appear i' th' market-place, nor on him put The napless vesture of humility; Nor, showing, as the manner is, his wounds To th' people, beg their stinking breaths O, he would miss it rather Than carry it but by the suit of the gentry to him And the desire of the nobles For an end, We must suggest the people in what hatred He still hath held them; that to's power he would Have made them mules, silenc'd their pleaders, and Dispropertied their freedoms; holding them In human action and capacity Of no more soul nor fitness for the world Than camels in their war, who have their provand Only for bearing burdens, and sore blows For sinking under them 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 Let's to the Capitol, And carry with us ears and eyes for th' time, But hearts for the event Faith, there have been many great men that have flatter'd the people, who ne'er loved them; and there be many that they have loved, they know not wherefore; so that, if they love they know not why, they hate upon no better a ground If he did not care whether he had their love or no, he waved indifferently 'twixt doing them neither good nor harm; but he seeks their hate with greater devotion than they can render it him, and leaves nothing undone that may fully discover him their opposite Now to seem to affect the malice and displeasure of the people is as bad as that which he dislikes- to flatter them for their love Enter the PATRICIANS and the TRIBUNES OF THE PEOPLE, LICTORS before them; CORIOLANUS, MENENIUS, COMINIUS the Consul We are convented Upon a pleasing treaty, and have hearts Inclinable to honour and advance The theme of our assembly Which the rather We shall be bless'd to do, if he remember A kinder value of the people than He hath hereto priz'd them at In that day's feats, When he might act the woman in the scene, He prov'd best man i' th' field, and for his meed Was brow-bound with the oak His 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 Our spoils he kick'd at, And look'd upon things precious as they were The common muck of the world He covets less Than misery itself would give, rewards His deeds with doing them, and is content To spend the time to end it I do beseech you Let me o'erleap that custom; for I cannot Put on the gown, stand naked, and entreat them For my wounds' sake to give their suffrage It is a part That I shall blush in acting, and might well Be taken from the people May they perceive's intent! He will require them As if he did contemn what he requested Should be in them to give We have power in ourselves to do it, but it is a power that we have no power to do; for if he show us his wounds and tell us his deeds, we are to put our tongues into those wounds and speak for them; so, if he tell us his noble deeds, we must also tell him our noble acceptance of them And to make us no better thought of, a little help will serve; for once we stood up about the corn, he himself stuck not to call us the many-headed multitude We have been call'd so of many; not that our heads are some brown, some black, some abram, some bald, but that our wits are so diversely colour'd; and truly I think if all our wits were to issue out of one skull, they would fly east, west, north, south, and their consent of one direct way should be at once to all the points o' th' compass To lose itself in a fog; where being three parts melted away with rotten dews, the fourth would return for conscience' sake, to help to get thee a wife Are you all resolv'd to give your voices? But that's no matter, the greater part carries it Enter CORIOLANUS, in a gown of humility, with MENENIUS Here he comes, and in the gown of humility 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 Pray you now, if it may stand with the tune of your voices that I may be consul, I have here the customary gown 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 Most sweet voices! Better it is to die, better to starve, Than crave the hire which first we do deserve Why in this wolvish toge should I stand here To beg of Hob and Dick that do appear Their needless vouches? Custom calls me to't Get you hence instantly, and tell those friends They have chose a consul that will from them take Their liberties, make them of no more voice Than dogs, that are as often beat for barking As therefore kept to do so Enforce his pride And his old hate unto you; besides, forget not With what contempt he wore the humble weed; How in his suit he scorn'd you; but your loves, Thinking upon his services, took from you Th' apprehension of his present portance, Which, most gibingly, ungravely, he did fashion After the inveterate hate he bears you If, as his nature is, he fall in rage With their refusal, both observe and answer The vantage of his anger They are worn, Lord Consul, so That we shall hardly in our ages see Their banners wave again On safeguard he came to me, and did curse Against the Volsces, for they had so vilely Yielded the town Enter SICINIUS and BRUTUS Behold, these are the tribunes of the people, The tongues o' th' common mouth For the mutable, rank-scented meiny, let them Regard me as I do not flatter, and Therein behold themselves I say again, In soothing them we nourish 'gainst our Senate The cockle of rebellion, insolence, sedition, Which we ourselves have plough'd for, sow'd, and scatter'd, By mingling them with us, the honour'd number, Who lack not virtue, no, nor power, but that Which they have given to beggars How? no more! As for my country I have shed my blood, Not fearing outward force, so shall my lungs Coin words till their decay against those measles Which we disdain should tetter us, yet sought The very way to catch them You speak o' th' people As if you were a god, to punish; not A man of their infirmity If you are learn'd, Be not as common fools; if you are not, Let them have cushions by you You are plebeians, If they be senators; and they are no less, When, both your voices blended, the great'st taste Most palates theirs By Jove himself, It makes the consuls base; and my soul aches To know, when two authorities are up, Neither supreme, how soon confusion May enter 'twixt the gap of both and take The one by th' other Though there the people had more absolute pow'r- I say they nourish'd disobedience, fed The ruin of the state They know the corn Was not our recompense, resting well assur'd They ne'er did service for't; being press'd to th' war Even when the navel of the state was touch'd, They would not thread the gates Being i' th' war, Their mutinies and revolts, wherein they show'd Most valour, spoke not for them Well, what then? How shall this bosom multiplied digest The Senate's courtesy? Let deeds express What's like to be their words 'We did request it; We are the greater poll, and in true fear They gave us our demands.' Thus we debase The nature of our seats, and make the rabble Call our cares fears; which will in time Break ope the locks o' th' Senate and bring in The crows to peck the eagles Therefore, beseech you- You that will be less fearful than discreet; That love the fundamental part of state More than you doubt the change on't; that prefer A noble life before a long, and wish To jump a body with a dangerous physic That's sure of death without it- at once pluck out The multitudinous tongue; let them not lick The sweet which is their poison 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 We do here pronounce, Upon the part o' th' people, in whose power We were elected theirs Sir, those cold ways, That seem like prudent helps, are very poisonous Where the disease is violent Will you hence, Before the tag return? whose rage doth rend Like interrupted waters, and o'erbear What they are us'd to bear His heart's his mouth; What his breast forges, that his tongue must vent; And, being angry, does forget that ever He heard the name of death Pursue him to his house and pluck him thence, Lest his infection, being of catching nature, Spread further Noble Tribunes, It is the humane way; the other course Will prove too bloody, and the end of it Unknown to the beginning Let them pull all about mine ears, present me Death on the wheel or at wild horses' heels; Or pile ten hills on the Tarpeian rock, That the precipitation might down stretch Below the beam of sight; yet will I still Be thus to them Why did you wish me milder? Would you have me False to my nature? Rather say I play The man I am You might have been enough the man you are With striving less to be so; lesser had been The thwartings of your dispositions, if You had not show'd them how ye were dispos'd, Ere they lack'd power to cross you There's no remedy, Unless, by not so doing, our good city Cleave in the midst and perish I have heard you say Honour and policy, like unsever'd friends, I' th' war do grow together; grant that, and tell me In peace what each of them by th' other lose That they combine not there Now, this no more dishonours you at all Than to take in a town with gentle words, Which else would put you to your fortune and The hazard of much blood 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 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 I'll mountebank their loves, Cog their hearts from them, and come home belov'd Of all the trades in Rome I'll return consul, Or never trust to what my tongue can do I' th' way of flattery further Consider further, That when he speaks not like a citizen, You find him like a soldier; do not take His rougher accents for malicious sounds, But, as I say, such as become a soldier Rather than envy you We charge you that you have contriv'd to take From Rome all season'd office, and to wind Yourself into a power tyrannical; For which you are a traitor to the people The fires i' th' lowest hell fold in the people! Call me their traitor! Thou injurious tribune! Within thine eyes sat twenty thousand deaths, In thy hands clutch'd as many millions, in Thy lying tongue both numbers, I would say 'Thou liest' unto thee with a voice as free As I do pray the gods There's no more to be said, but he is banish'd, As enemy to the people and his country And here remain with your uncertainty! Let every feeble rumour shake your hearts; Your enemies, with nodding of their plumes, Fan you into despair! Have the power still To banish your defenders, till at length Your ignorance- which finds not till it feels, Making but reservation of yourselves Still your own foes- deliver you As most abated captives to some nation That won you without blows! Despising For you the city, thus I turn my back; There is a world elsewhere Come, come, let's see him out at gates; come! The gods preserve our noble tribunes! Come You were us'd to load me With precepts that would make invincible The heart that conn'd them My first son, Whither wilt thou go? Take good Cominius With thee awhile; determine on some course More than a wild exposture to each chance That starts i' th' way before thee I'll follow thee a month, devise with the Where thou shalt rest, that thou mayst hear of us, And we of thee; so, if the time thrust forth A cause for thy repeal, we shall not send O'er the vast world to seek a single man, And lose advantage, which doth ever cool I' th' absence of the needer If I could shake off but one seven years From these old arms and legs, by the good gods, I'd with thee every foot I would he had continued to his country As he began, and not unknit himself The noble knot he made Hath been! Is it ended, then? Our state thinks not so; they are in a most warlike preparation, and hope to come upon them in the heat of their division I shall between this and supper tell you most strange things from Rome, all tending to the good of their adversaries I am joyful to hear of their readiness, and am the man, I think, that shall set them in present action 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 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 So use it That my revengeful services may prove As benefits to thee; for I will fight Against my cank'red country with the spleen Of all the under fiends But if so be Thou dar'st not this, and that to prove more fortunes Th'art tir'd, then, in a word, I also am Longer to live most weary, and present My throat to thee and to thy ancient malice; Which not to cut would show thee but a fool, Since I have ever followed thee with hate, Drawn tuns of blood out of thy country's breast, And cannot live but to thy shame, unless It be to do thee service If Jupiter Should from yond cloud speak divine things, And say ''Tis true,' I'd not believe them more Than thee, all noble Marcius absolute sir, if thou wilt have The leading of thine own revenges, take Th' one half of my commission, and set down- As best thou art experienc'd, since thou know'st Thy country's strength and weakness- thine own ways, Whether to knock against the gates of Rome, Or rudely visit them in parts remote To fright them ere destroy He had so, looking as it were- Would I were hang'd, but I thought there was more in him than I could think Faith, look you, one cannot tell how to say that; for the defence of a town our general is excellent 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 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 The present peace And quietness of the people, which before Were in wild hurry, here do make his friends Blush that the world goes well; who rather had, Though they themselves did suffer by't, behold Dissentious numbers pest'ring streets than see Our tradesmen singing in their shops, and going About their functions friendly The nobles in great earnestness are going All to the Senate House; some news is come That turns their countenances 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 A fearful army, led by Caius Marcius Associated with Aufidius, rages Upon our territories, and have already O'erborne their way, consum'd with fire and took What lay before them 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 Go, masters, get you be not dismay'd; These are a side that would be glad to have This true which they so seem to fear All places yield to him ere he sits down, And the nobility of Rome are his; The senators and patricians love him too The tribunes are no soldiers, and their people Will be as rash in the repeal as hasty To expel him thence I minded him how royal 'twas to pardon When it was less expected; he replied, It was a bare petition of a state To one whom they had punish'd Therefore I'll watch him Till he be dieted to my request, And then I'll set upon him I tell you he does sit in gold, his eye Red as 'twould burn Rome, and his injury The gaoler to his pity Prithee, fellow, remember my name is Menenius, always factionary on the party of your general Guess but by my entertainment with him if thou stand'st not i' th' state of hanging, or of some death more long in spectatorship and crueller in suffering; behold now presently, and swoon for what's to come upon thee The glorious gods sit in hourly synod about thy particular prosperity, and love thee no worse than thy old father Menenius does! O my son! my son! thou art preparing fire for us; look thee, here's water to quench it The good gods assuage thy wrath, and turn the dregs of it upon this varlet here; this, who, like a block, hath denied my access to thee I neither care for th' world nor your general; for such things as you, I can scarce think there's any, y'are so slight Only their ends You have respected; stopp'd your ears against The general suit of Rome; never admitted A private whisper- no, not with such friends That thought them sure of you [Shout within] Ha! what shout is this? Shall I be tempted to infringe my vow In the same time 'tis made? I will not 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 What is that curtsy worth? or those doves' eyes, Which can make gods forsworn? I melt, and am not Of stronger earth than others 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 O, no more, no more! You have said you will not grant us any thing- For we have nothing else to ask but that Which you deny already; yet we will ask, That, if you fail in our request, the blame May hang upon your hardness; therefore hear us For how can we, Alas, how can we for our country pray, Whereto we are bound, together with thy victory, Whereto we are bound? Alack, or we must lose The country, our dear nurse, or else thy person, Our comfort in the country For myself, son, I purpose not to wait on fortune till These wars determine; if I can not persuade thee Rather to show a noble grace to both parts Than seek the end of one, thou shalt no sooner March to assault thy country than to tread- Trust to't, thou shalt not- on thy mother's womb That brought thee to this world Say my request's unjust, And spurn me back; but if it he not so, Thou art not honest, and the gods will plague thee, That thou restrain'st from me the duty which To a mother's part belongs O mother, mother! What have you done? Behold, the heavens do ope, The gods look down, and this unnatural scene They laugh at If it be possible for you to displace it with your little finger, there is some hope the ladies of Rome, especially his mother, may prevail with him When we banish'd him we respected not them; and, he returning to break our necks, they respect not us The plebeians have got your fellow tribune And hale him up and down; all swearing if The Roman ladies bring not comfort home They'll give him death by inches Good news, good news! The ladies have prevail'd, The Volscians are dislodg'd, and Marcius gone Where have you lurk'd, that you make doubt of it? Ne'er through an arch so hurried the blown tide As the recomforted through th' gates Why, hark you! [Trumpets, hautboys, drums beat, all together] The trumpets, sackbuts, psalteries, and fifes, Tabors and cymbals, and the shouting Romans, Make the sun dance Behold our patroness, the life of Rome! Call all your tribes together, praise the gods, And make triumphant fires; strew flowers before them Go tell the lords o' th' city I am here; Deliver them this paper' having read it, Bid them repair to th' market-place, where I, Even in theirs and in the commons' ears, Will vouch the truth of it The people will remain uncertain whilst 'Twixt you there's difference; but the fall of either Makes the survivor heir of all Your native town you enter'd like a post, And had no welcomes home; but he returns Splitting the air with noise What faults he made before the last, I think Might have found easy fines; but there to end Where he was to begin, and give away The benefit of our levies, answering us With our own charge, making a treaty where There was a yielding- this admits no excuse You are to know That prosperously I have attempted, and With bloody passage led your wars even to The gates of Rome Our spoils we have brought home Doth more than counterpoise a full third part The charges of the action Ay, Marcius, Caius Marcius! Dost thou think I'll grace thee with that robbery, thy stol'n name Coriolanus, in Corioli? You lords and heads o' th' state, perfidiously He has betray'd your business and given up, For certain drops of salt, your city Rome- I say your city- to his wife and mother; Breaking his oath and resolution like A twist of rotten silk; never admitting Counsel o' th' war; but at his nurse's tears He whin'd and roar'd away your victory, That pages blush'd at him, and men of heart Look'd wond'ring each at others Your judgments, my grave lords, Must give this cur the lie; and his own notion- Who wears my stripes impress'd upon him, that Must bear my beating to his grave- shall join To thrust the lie unto him Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him! [The CONSPIRATORS draw and kill CORIOLANUS,who falls Exeunt, bearing the body of CORIOLANUS [A dead march sounded] THE END You do not meet a man but frowns; our bloods No more obey the heavens than our courtiers Still seem as does the King's But not a courtier, Although they wear their faces to the bent Of the King's looks, hath a heart that is not Glad at the thing they scowl at He had two sons- if this be worth your hearing, Mark it- the eldest of them at three years old, I' th' swathing clothes the other, from their nursery Were stol'n; and to this hour no guess in knowledge Which way they went I'll fetch a turn about the garden, pitying The pangs of barr'd affections, though the King Hath charg'd you should not speak together Should we be taking leave As long a term as yet we have to live, The loathness to depart would grow You bred him as my playfellow, and he is A man worth any woman; overbuys me Almost the sum he pays Your son's my father's friend; he takes his part To draw upon an exile! O brave sir! I would they were in Afric both together; Myself by with a needle, that I might prick The goer-back He was then of a crescent note, expected to prove so worthy as since he hath been allowed the name of I have seen him in France; we had very many there could behold the sun with as firm eyes as he This matter of marrying his king's daughter, wherein he must be weighed rather by her value than his own, words him, I doubt not, a great deal from the matter I was then a young traveller; rather shunn'd to go even with what I heard than in my every action to be guided by others' experiences; but upon my mended judgment- if I offend not to say it is mended- my quarrel was not altogether slight Faith, yes, to be put to the arbitrement of swords, and by such two that would by all likelihood have confounded one the other or have fall'n both It was much like an argument that fell out last night, where each of us fell in praise of our country mistresses; this gentleman at that time vouching- and upon warrant of bloody affirmation- his to be more fair, virtuous, wise, chaste, constant, qualified, and less attemptable, than any the rarest of our ladies in France If she went before others I have seen as that diamond of yours outlustres many I have beheld, I could not but believe she excelled many; but I have not seen the most precious diamond that is, nor you the lady 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 But I make my wager rather against your confidence than her reputation; and, to bar your offence herein too, I durst attempt it against any lady in the world 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 What shalt thou expect To be depender on a thing that leans, Who cannot be new built, nor has no friends So much as but to prop him? [The QUEEN drops the box Think what a chance thou changest on; but think Thou hast thy mistress still; to boot, my son, Who shall take notice of thee 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 But when to my good lord I prove untrue I'll choke myself- there's all I'll do for you O, that husband! My supreme crown of grief! and those repeated Vexations of it! Had I been thief-stol'n, As my two brothers, happy! but most miserable Is the desire that's glorious [Aside] All of her that is out of door most rich! If she be furnish'd with a mind so rare, She is alone th' Arabian bird, and I Have lost the wager Boldness be my friend! Arm me, audacity, from head to foot! Or, like the Parthian, I shall flying fight; Rather, directly fly The cloyed will- That satiate yet unsatisfied desire, that tub Both fill'd and running- ravening first the lamb, Longs after for the garbage Blessed live you long, A lady to the worthiest sir that ever Country call'd his! and you his mistress, only For the most worthiest fit! Give me your pardon The love I bear him Made me to fan you thus; but the gods made you, Unlike all others, chaffless I had almost forgot T' entreat your Grace but in a small request, And yet of moment too, for it concerns Your lord; myself and other noble friends Are partners in the business 'Tis plate of rare device, and jewels Of rich and exquisite form, their values great; And I am something curious, being strange, To have them in safe stowage A pox on't! I had rather not be so noble as I am; they dare not fight with me, because of the Queen my mother Take not away the taper, leave it burning; And if thou canst awake by four o' th' clock, I prithee call me Our Tarquin thus Did softly press the rushes ere he waken'd The chastity he wounded Cytherea, How bravely thou becom'st thy bed! fresh lily, And whiter than the sheets! That I might touch! But kiss; one kiss! Rubies unparagon'd, How dearly they do't! 'Tis her breathing that Perfumes the chamber thus 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 Here's a voucher Stronger than ever law could make; this secret Will force him think I have pick'd the lock and ta'en The treasure of her honour First, a very excellent good-conceited thing; after, a wonderful sweet air, with admirable rich words to it- and then let her consider SONG Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings, And Phoebus 'gins arise, His steeds to water at those springs On chalic'd flow'rs that lies; And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes 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 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 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 Caius Lucius Will do's commission throughly; and I think He'll grant the tribute, send th' arrearages, Or look upon our Romans, whose remembrance Is yet fresh in their grief Their discipline, Now mingled with their courages, will make known To their approvers they are people such That mend upon the world And therewithal the best; or let her beauty Look through a casement to allure false hearts, And be false with them I'll make a journey twice as far t' enjoy A second night of such sweet shortness which Was mine in Britain; for the ring is won If not, the foul opinion You had of her pure honour gains or loses Your sword or mine, or masterless leaves both To who shall find them First, her bedchamber, Where I confess I slept not, but profess Had that was well worth watching-it was hang'd With tapestry of silk and silver; the story, Proud Cleopatra when she met her Roman And Cydnus swell'd above the banks, or for The press of boats or pride 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 This is her honour! Let it be granted you have seen all this, and praise Be given to your remembrance; the description Of what is in her chamber nothing saves The wager you have laid Let there be no honour Where there is beauty; truth where semblance; love Where there's another man The vows of women Of no more bondage be to where they are made Than they are to their virtues, which is nothing Ay, and it doth confirm Another stain, as big as hell can hold, Were there no more but it O that I had her here to tear her limb-meal! I will go there and do't, i' th' court, before Her father Some coiner with his tools Made me a counterfeit; yet my mother seem'd The Dian of that time Could I find out The woman's part in me! For there's no motion That tends to vice in man but I affirm It is the woman's part Remember, sir, my liege, The kings your ancestors, together with The natural bravery of your isle, which stands As Neptune's park, ribb'd and pal'd in With rocks unscalable and roaring waters, With sands that will not bear your enemies' boats But suck them up to th' top-mast Say then to Caesar, Our ancestor was that Mulmutius which Ordain'd our laws- whose use the sword of Caesar Hath too much mangled; whose repair and franchise Shall, by the power we hold, be our good deed, Though Rome be therefore angry I am perfect That the Pannonians and Dalmatians for Their liberties are now in arms, a precedent Which not to read would show the Britons cold; So Caesar shall not find them 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 Who? thy lord? That is my lord- Leonatus? O, learn'd indeed were that astronomer That knew the stars as I his characters- He'd lay the future open The gates of monarchs Are arch'd so high that giants may jet through And keep their impious turbans on without Good morrow to the sun Consider, When you above perceive me like a crow, That it is place which lessens and sets off; And you may then revolve what tales I have told you Of courts, of princes, of the tricks in war To apprehend thus Draws us a profit from all things we see, And often to our comfort shall we find The sharded beetle in a safer hold Than is the full-wing'd eagle How you speak! Did you but know the city's usuries, And felt them knowingly- the art o' th' court, As hard to leave as keep, whose top to climb Is certain falling, or so slipp'ry that The fear's as bad as falling; the toil o' th' war, A pain that only seems to seek out danger I' th'name of fame and honour, which dies i' th'search, And hath as oft a sland'rous epitaph As record of fair act; nay, many times, Doth ill deserve by doing well; what's worse- Must curtsy at the censure O, boys, this story The world may read in me; my body's mark'd With Roman swords, and my report was once first with the best of note 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 My fault being nothing- as I have told you oft- But that two villains, whose false oaths prevail'd Before my perfect honour, swore to Cymbeline I was confederate with the Romans So Follow'd my banishment, and this twenty years This rock and these demesnes have been my world, Where I have liv'd at honest freedom, paid More pious debts to heaven than in all The fore-end of my time Exeunt GUIDERIUS and ARVIRAGUS How hard it is to hide the sparks of nature! These boys know little they are sons to th' King, Nor Cymbeline dreams that they are alive They think they are mine; and though train'd up thus meanly I' th' cave wherein they bow, their thoughts do hit The roofs of palaces, and nature prompts them In simple and low things to prince it much Beyond the trick of others Please you read, And you shall find me, wretched man, a thing The most disdain'd of fortune [Reads] 'Thy mistress, Pisanio, hath play'd the strumpet in my bed, the testimonies whereof lie bleeding in me That part thou, Pisanio, must act for me, if thy faith be not tainted with the breach of hers No, 'tis slander, Whose edge is sharper than the sword, whose tongue Outvenoms all the worms of Nile, whose breath Rides on the posting winds and doth belie All corners of the world Look! I draw the sword myself; take it, and hit The innocent mansion of my love, my heart Fear not; 'tis empty of all things but grief; Thy master is not there, who was indeed The riches of it And thou, Posthumus, That didst set up my disobedience 'gainst the King My father, and make me put into contempt the suits Of princely fellows, shalt hereafter find It is no act of common passage but A strain of rareness; and I grieve myself To think, when thou shalt be disedg'd by her That now thou tirest on, how thy memory Will then be pang'd by me You must forget to be a woman; change Command into obedience; fear and niceness- The handmaids of all women, or, more truly, Woman it pretty self- into a waggish courage; Ready in gibes, quick-answer'd, saucy, and As quarrelous as the weasel Fore-thinking this, I have already fit- 'Tis in my cloak-bag- doublet, hat, hose, all That answer to them Well, madam, we must take a short farewell, Lest, being miss'd, I be suspected of Your carriage from the court But, my gentle queen, Where is our daughter? She hath not appear'd Before the Roman, nor to us hath tender'd The duty of the day For when fools Shall- Enter PISANIO Who is here? What, are you packing, sirrah? Come hither Ah, you precious pander! Villain, Where is thy lady? In a word, or else Thou art straightway with the fiends She said upon a time- the bitterness of it I now belch from my heart- that she held the very garment of Posthumus in more respect than my noble and natural person, together with the adornment of my qualities O Jove! I think Foundations fly the wretched; such, I mean, Where they should be reliev'd Best draw my sword; and if mine enemy But fear the sword, like me, he'll scarcely look on't Come, our stomachs Will make what's homely savoury; weariness Can snore upon the flint, when resty sloth Finds the down pillow hard I would have left it on the board, so soon As I had made my meal, and parted With pray'rs for the provider [Aside] Would it had been so that they Had been my father's sons! Then had my prize Been less, and so more equal ballasting To thee, Posthumus [Aside] Great men, That had a court no bigger than this cave, That did attend themselves, and had the virtue Which their own conscience seal'd them, laying by That nothing-gift of differing multitudes, Could not out-peer these twain That since the common men are now in action 'Gainst the Pannonians and Dalmatians, And that the legions now in Gallia are Full weak to undertake our wars against The fall'n-off Britons, that we do incite The gentry to this business The words of your commission Will tie you to the numbers and the time Of their dispatch [Aside] O noble strain! O worthiness of nature! breed of greatness! Cowards father cowards and base things sire base I'm not their father; yet who this should be Doth miracle itself, lov'd before me.- 'Tis the ninth hour o' th' morn I do note That grief and patience, rooted in him both, Mingle their spurs together Those runagates? Means he not us? I partly know him; 'tis Cloten, the son o' th' Queen No, nor thy tailor, rascal, Who is thy grandfather; he made those clothes, Which, as it seems, make thee 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 Being scarce made up, I mean to man, he had not apprehension Or roaring terrors; for defect of judgment Is oft the cease of fear 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 Although perhaps It may be heard at court that such as we Cave here, hunt here, are outlaws, and in time May make some stronger head- the which he hearing, As it is like him, might break out and swear He'd fetch us in; yet is't not probable To come alone, either he so undertaking Or they so suffering Then on good ground we fear, If we do fear this body hath a tail More perilous than the head 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 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 O gods and goddesses! [Seeing the body] These flow'rs are like the pleasures of the world; This bloody man, the care on't But 'tis not so; 'Twas but a bolt of nothing, shot at nothing, Which the brain makes of fumes Good faith, I tremble still with fear; but if there be Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity As a wren's eye, fear'd gods, a part of it! The dream's here still To write and read Be henceforth treacherous! Damn'd Pisanio Hath with his forged letters- damn'd Pisanio- From this most bravest vessel of the world Struck the main-top To them the legions garrison'd in Gallia, After your will, have cross'd the sea, attending You here at Milford Haven; with your ships, They are in readiness The Senate hath stirr'd up the confiners And gentlemen of Italy, most willing spirits, That promise noble service; and they come Under the conduct of bold Iachimo, Sienna's brother Last night the very gods show'd me a vision- I fast and pray'd for their intelligence- thus How? a page? Or dead or sleeping on him? But dead, rather; For nature doth abhor to make his bed With the defunct, or sleep upon the dead I may wander From east to occident; cry out for service; Try many, all good; serve truly; never Find such another master The Roman Emperor's letters, Sent by a consul to me, should not sooner Than thine own worth prefer thee 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 These present wars shall find I love my country, Even to the note o' th' King, or I'll fall in them 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 And, besides, the King Hath not deserv'd my service nor your loves, Who find in my exile the want of breeding, The certainty of this hard life; aye hopeless To have the courtesy your cradle promis'd, But to be still hot summer's tanlings and The shrinking slaves of winter 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 But alack, You snatch some hence for little faults; that's love, To have them fall no more You some permit To second ills with ills, each elder worse, And make them dread it, to the doer's thrift 'Tis enough That, Britain, I have kill'd thy mistress; peace! I'll give no wound to thee 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 A field of battle between the British and Roman camps Enter LUCIUS, IACHIMO, and the Roman army at one door, and the British army at another, LEONATUS POSTHUMUS following like a poor soldier Stand, stand! We have th' advantage of the ground; The lane is guarded; nothing routs us but The villainy of our fears Stand, stand!' These three, Three thousand confident, in act as many- For three performers are the file when all The rest do nothing- with this word 'Stand, stand!' Accommodated by the place, more charming With their own nobleness, which could have turn'd A distaff to a lance, gilded pale looks, Part shame, part spirit renew'd; that some turn'd coward But by example- O, a sin in war Damn'd in the first beginners!- gan to look The way that they did and to grin like lions Upon the pikes o' th' hunters Forthwith they fly, Chickens, the way which they stoop'd eagles; slaves, The strides they victors made; and now our cowards, Like fragments in hard voyages, became The life o' th' need Well, I will find him; For being now a favourer to the Briton, No more a Briton, I have resum'd again The part I came in Lay hands on him; a dog! A leg of Rome shall not return to tell What crows have peck'd them here Yet am I better Than one that's sick o' th' gout, since he had rather Groan so in perpetuity than be cur'd By th' sure physician death, who is the key T' unbar these locks 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 'Tween man and man they weigh not every stamp; Though light, take pieces for the figure's sake; You rather mine, being yours And so, great pow'rs, If you will take this audit, take this life, And cancel these cold bonds Enter, as in an apparition, SICILIUS LEONATUS, father to POSTHUMUS, an old man attired like a warrior; leading in his hand an ancient matron, his WIFE, and mother to POSTHUMUS, with music before them Then, after other music, follows the two young LEONATI, brothers to POSTHUMUS, with wounds, as they died in the wars When once he was mature for man, In Britain where was he That could stand up his parallel, Or fruitful object be In eye of Imogen, that best Could deem his dignity? MOTHER Why did you suffer Iachimo, Slight thing of Italy, To taint his nobler heart and brain With needless jealousy, And to become the geck and scorn O' th' other's villainy? SECOND BROTHER No more, you petty spirits of region low, Offend our hearing; hush! How dare you ghosts Accuse the Thunderer whose bolt, you know, Sky-planted, batters all rebelling coasts? Poor shadows of Elysium, hence and rest Upon your never-withering banks of flow'rs [Waking] Sleep, thou has been a grandsire and begot A father to me; and thou hast created A mother and two brothers But the comfort is, you shall be called to no more payments, fear no more tavern bills, which are often the sadness of parting, as the procuring of mirth You have no true debitor and creditor but it; of what's past, is, and to come, the discharge You must either be directed by some that take upon them to know, or to take upon yourself that which I am sure you do not know, or jump the after-inquiry on your own peril 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 What an infinite mock is this, that a man should have the best use of eyes to see the way of blindness! I am sure hanging's the way of winking Who worse than a physician Would this report become? But I consider By med'cine'life may be prolong'd, yet death Will seize the doctor too The day Was yours by accident; had it gone with us, We should not, when the blood was cool, have threaten'd Our prisoners with the sword Live; And ask of Cymbeline what boon thou wilt, Fitting my bounty and thy state, I'll give it; Yea, though thou do demand a prisoner, The noblest ta'en [To IACHIMO] Sir, step you forth; Give answer to this boy, and do it freely, Or, by our greatness and the grace of it, Which is our honour, bitter torture shall Winnow the truth from falsehood He, true knight, No lesser of her honour confident Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring; And would so, had it been a carbuncle Of Phoebus' wheel; and might so safely, had it Been all the worth of's car Being thus quench'd Of hope, not longing, mine Italian brain Gan in your duller Britain operate Most vilely; for my vantage, excellent; And, to be brief, my practice so prevail'd That I return'd with simular proof enough To make the noble Leonatus mad, By wounding his belief in her renown With tokens thus and thus; averring notes Of chamber-hanging, pictures, this her bracelet- O cunning, how I got it!- nay, some marks Of secret on her person, that he could not But think her bond of chastity quite crack'd, I having ta'en the forfeit It is I That all th' abhorred things o' th' earth amend By being worse than they Lady, The gods throw stones of sulphur on me, if That box I gave you was not thought by me A precious thing! I had it from the Queen O gods! I left out one thing which the Queen confess'd, Which must approve thee honest I, dreading that her purpose Was of more danger, did compound for her A certain stuff, which, being ta'en would cease The present pow'r of life, but in short time All offices of nature should again Do their due functions Your pleasure was my mere offence, my punishment Itself, and all my treason; that I suffer'd Was all the harm I did These gentle princes- For such and so they are- these twenty years Have I train'd up; those arts they have as Could put into them Their nurse, Euriphile, Whom for the theft I wedded, stole these children Upon my banishment; I mov'd her to't, Having receiv'd the punishment before For that which I did then Their dear loss, The more of you 'twas felt, the more it shap'd Unto my end of stealing them But, gracious sir, Here are your sons again, and I must lose Two of the sweet'st companions in the world The forlorn soldier, that so nobly fought, He would have well becom'd this place and grac'd The thankings of a king I am, sir, The soldier that did company these three In poor beseeming; 'twas a fitment for The purpose I then follow'd [Kneeling] I am down again; But now my heavy conscience sinks my knee, As then your force did The vision Which I made known to Lucius ere the stroke Of yet this scarce-cold battle, at this instant Is full accomplish'd; for the Roman eagle, From south to west on wing soaring aloft, Lessen'd herself and in the beams o' th' sun So vanish'd; which foreshow'd our princely eagle, Th'imperial Caesar, Caesar, should again unite His favour with the radiant Cymbeline, Which shines here in the west Enter two Sentinels-[first,] Francisco, [who paces up and down at his post; then] Bernardo, [who approaches him] Good now, sit down, and tell me he that knows, Why this same strict and most observant watch So nightly toils the subject of the land, And why such daily cast of brazen cannon And foreign mart for implements of war; Why such impress of shipwrights, whose sore task Does not divide the Sunday from the week 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 If thou art privy to thy country's fate, Which happily foreknowing may avoid, O, speak! Or if thou hast uphoarded in thy life Extorted treasure in the womb of earth (For which, they say, you spirits oft walk in death), The cock crows 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 But look, the morn, in russet mantle clad, Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastward hill Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's death The memory be green, and that it us befitted To bear our hearts in grief, and our whole kingdom To be contracted in one brow of woe, Yet so far hath discretion fought with nature That we with wisest sorrow think on him Together with remembrance of ourselves Now follows, that you know, young Fortinbras, Holding a weak supposal of our worth, Or thinking by our late dear brother's death Our state to be disjoint and out of frame, Colleagued with this dream of his advantage, He hath not fail'd to pester us with message Importing the surrender of those lands Lost by his father, with all bands of law, To our most valiant brother we have here writ To Norway, uncle of young Fortinbras, Who, impotent and bedrid, scarcely hears Of this his nephew's purpose, to suppress His further gait herein, in that the levies, The lists, and full proportions are all made Out of his subject; and we here dispatch You, good Cornelius, and you, Voltemand, For bearers of this greeting to old Norway, Giving to you no further personal power To business with the King, more than the scope Of these dilated articles allow What wouldst thou beg, Laertes, That shall not be my offer, not thy asking? The head is not more native to the heart, The hand more instrumental to the mouth, Than is the throne of Denmark to thy father 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 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 Thrift, thrift, Horatio! The funeral bak'd meats Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven Or ever I had seen that day, Horatio! My father- methinks I see my father 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 This to me In dreadful secrecy impart they did, And I with them the third night kept the watch; Where, as they had deliver'd, both in time, Form of the thing, each word made true and good, The apparition comes He may not, as unvalued persons do, Carve for himself, for on his choice depends The safety and health of this whole state, And therefore must his choice be circumscrib'd Unto the voice and yielding of that body Whereof he is the head Then if he says he loves you, It fits your wisdom so far to believe it As he in his particular act and place May give his saying deed; which is no further Than the main voice of Denmark goes withal 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 Beware Of entrance to a quarrel; but being in, Bear't that th' opposed may beware of thee Neither a borrower nor a lender be; For loan oft loses both itself and friend, And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry This above all- to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man And hath given countenance to his speech, my lord, With almost all the holy vows of heaven Ay, springes to catch woodcocks! I do know, When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul Lends the tongue vows In few, Ophelia, Do not believe his vows; for they are brokers, Not of that dye which their investments show, But mere implorators of unholy suits, Breathing like sanctified and pious bawds, The better to beguile I would not, in plain terms, from this time forth Have you so slander any moment leisure As to give words or talk with the Lord Hamlet The King doth wake to-night and takes his rouse, Keeps wassail, and the swagg'ring upspring reels, And, as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down, The kettledrum and trumpet thus bray out The triumph of his pledge Ay, marry, is't; But to my mind, though I am native here And to the manner born, it is a custom More honour'd in the breach than the observance 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 Angels and ministers of grace defend us! Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damn'd, Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell, Be thy intents wicked or charitable, Thou com'st in such a questionable shape That I will speak to thee O, answer me? Let me not burst in ignorance, but tell Why thy canoniz'd bones, hearsed in death, Have burst their cerements; why the sepulchre Wherein we saw thee quietly inurn'd, Hath op'd his ponderous and marble jaws To cast thee up again My fate cries out And makes each petty artire in this body As hardy as the Nemean lion's nerve But that I am forbid To tell the secrets of my prison house, I could a tale unfold whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres, Thy knotted and combined locks to part, And each particular hair to stand an end Like quills upon the fretful porpentine Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast, With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts- O wicked wit and gifts, that have the power So to seduce!- won to his shameful lust The will of my most seeming-virtuous queen 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 But, howsoever thou pursuest this act, Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive Against thy mother aught Aha boy, say'st thou so? Art thou there, truepenny? Come on! You hear this fellow in the cellarage I saw him yesterday, or t'other day, Or then, or then, with such or such; and, as you say, There was 'a gaming; there o'ertook in's rouse; There falling out at tennis'; or perchance, 'I saw him enter such a house of sale,' Videlicet, a brothel, or so forth 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 And I beseech you instantly to visit My too much changed son.- Go, some of you, And bring these gentlemen where Hamlet is Have I, my lord? Assure you, my good liege, I hold my duty as I hold my soul, Both to my God and to my gracious king; And I do think- or else this brain of mine Hunts not the trail of policy so sure As it hath us'd to do- that I have found The very cause of Hamlet's lunacy [Exit Polonius.] He tells me, my dear Gertrude, he hath found The head and source of all your son's distemper Whereon old Norway, overcome with joy, Gives him three thousand crowns in annual fee And his commission to employ those soldiers, So levied as before, against the Polack; With an entreaty, herein further shown, [Gives a paper.] That it might please you to give quiet pass Through your dominions for this enterprise, On such regards of safety and allowance As therein are set down If circumstances lead me, I will find Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeed Within the centre Slanders, sir; for the satirical rogue says here that old men have grey beards; that their faces are wrinkled; their eyes purging thick amber and plum-tree gum; and that they have a plentiful lack of wit, together with most weak hams Which dreams indeed are ambition; for the very substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream Then are our beggars bodies, and our monarchs and outstretch'd heroes the beggars' shadows But let me conjure you by the rights of our fellowship, by the consonancy of our youth, by the obligation of our ever-preserved love, and by what more dear a better proposer could charge you withal, be even and direct with me, whether you were sent for or no So shall my anticipation prevent your discovery, and your secrecy to the King and Queen moult no feather What a piece of work is a man! how noble in reason! how infinite in faculties! in form and moving how express and admirable! in action how like an angel! in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the world, the paragon of animals! And yet to me what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me- no, nor woman neither, though by your smiling you seem to say so To think, my lord, if you delight not in man, what lenten entertainment the players shall receive from you He that plays the king shall be welcome- his Majesty shall have tribute of me; the adventurous knight shall use his foil and target; the lover shall not sigh gratis; the humorous man shall end his part in peace; the clown shall make those laugh whose lungs are tickle o' th' sere; and the lady shall say her mind freely, or the blank verse shall halt fort These are now the fashion, and so berattle the common stages (so they call them) that many wearing rapiers are afraid of goosequills and dare scarce come thither What, are they children? Who maintains 'em? How are they escoted? Will they pursue the quality no longer than they can sing? Will they not say afterwards, if they should grow themselves to common players (as it is most like, if their means are no better), their writers do them wrong to make them exclaim against their own succession Faith, there has been much to do on both sides; and the nation holds it no sin to tarre them to controversy There was, for a while, no money bid for argument unless the poet and the player went to cuffs in the question You are welcome, masters; welcome, all.- I am glad to see thee well.- Welcome, good friends.- O, my old friend? Why, thy face is valanc'd since I saw thee last Head to foot Now is be total gules, horridly trick'd With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sons, Bak'd and impasted with the parching streets, That lend a tyrannous and a damned light To their lord's murther Unequal match'd, Pyrrhus at Priam drives, in rage strikes wide; But with the whiff and wind of his fell sword Th' unnerved father falls I'll have thee speak out the rest of this soon.- Good my lord, will you see the players well bestow'd? Do you hear? Let them be well us'd; for they are the abstract and brief chronicles of the time After your death you were better have a bad epitaph than their ill report while you live 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 Ophelia, walk you here.- Gracious, so please you, We will bestow ourselves.- [To Ophelia] Read on this book, That show of such an exercise may colour Your loneliness.- We are oft to blame in this, 'Tis too much prov'd, that with devotion's visage And pious action we do sugar o'er The Devil himself 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 My honour'd lord, you know right well you did, And with them words of so sweet breath compos'd As made the things more rich Get thee to a nunnery! Why wouldst thou be a breeder of sinners? I am myself indifferent honest, but yet I could accuse me of such things that it were better my mother had not borne me I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious; with more offences at my beck than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give them shape, or time to act them in Or if thou wilt needs marry, marry a fool; for wise men know well enough what monsters you make of them Those that are married already- all but one- shall live; the rest shall keep as they are Let her be round with him; And I'll be plac'd so please you, in the ear Of all their conference But if you mouth it, as many of our players do, I had as live the town crier spoke my lines Now this overdone, or come tardy off, though it make the unskilful laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve; the censure of the which one must in your allowance o'erweigh a whole theatre of others O, reform it altogether! And let those that play your clowns speak no more than is set down for them For there be of them that will themselves laugh, to set on some quantity of barren spectators to laugh too, though in the mean time some necessary question of the play be then to be considered Dost thou hear? Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice And could of men distinguish, her election Hath scald thee for herself Give me that man That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart, As I do thee One scene of it comes near the circumstance, Which I have told thee, of my father's death If he steal aught the whilst this play is playing, And scape detecting, I will pay the theft Yet, though I distrust, Discomfort you, my lord, it nothing must; For women's fear and love holds quantity, In neither aught, or in extremity Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear; Where little fears grow great, great love grows there Faith, I must leave thee, love, and shortly too; My operant powers their functions leave to do Purpose is but the slave to memory, Of violent birth, but poor validity; Which now, like fruit unripe, sticks on the tree, But fill unshaken when they mellow be This world is not for aye, nor 'tis not strange That even our loves should with our fortunes change; For 'tis a question left us yet to prove, Whether love lead fortune, or else fortune love But, orderly to end where I begun, Our wills and fates do so contrary run That our devices still are overthrown; Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own Aha! Come, some music! Come, the recorders! For if the King like not the comedy, Why then, belike he likes it not, perdy If it shall please you to make me a wholesome answer, I will do your mother's commandment; if not, your pardon and my return shall be the end of my business But, sir, such answer is I can make, you shall command; or rather, as you say, my mother O wonderful son, that can so stonish a mother! But is there no sequel at the heels of this mother's admiration? Impart Soft! now to my mother! O heart, lose not thy nature; let not ever The soul of Nero enter this firm bosom My tongue and soul in this be hypocrites- How in my words somever she be shent, To give them seals never, my soul, consent! Exit The single and peculiar life is bound With all the strength and armour of the mind To keep itself from noyance; but much more That spirit upon whose weal depends and rests The lives of many It is a massy wheel, Fix'd on the summit of the highest mount, To whose huge spokes ten thousand lesser things Are mortis'd and adjoin'd; which when it falls, Each small annexment, petty consequence, Attends the boist'rous ruin I'll warrant she'll tax him home; And, as you said, and wisely was it said, 'Tis meet that some more audience than a mother, Since nature makes them partial, should o'erhear The speech, of vantage May one be pardon'd and retain th' offence? In the corrupted currents of this world Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice, And oft 'tis seen the wicked prize itself Buys out the law; but 'tis not so above 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 You shall not budge I You go not till I set you up a glass Where you may see the inmost part of you [draws] How now? a rat? Dead for a ducat, dead! [Makes a pass through the arras and] kills Polonius [Lifts up the arras and sees Polonius.] Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell! I took thee for thy better O, such a deed As from the body of contraction plucks The very soul, and sweet religion makes A rhapsody of words! Heaven's face doth glow; Yea, this solidity and compound mass, With tristful visage, as against the doom, Is thought-sick at the act A combination and a form indeed Where every god did seem to set his seal To give the world assurance of a man O Hamlet, speak no more! Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul, And there I see such black and grained spots As will not leave their tinct Confess yourself to heaven; Repent what's past; avoid what is to come; And do not spread the compost on the weeds To make them ranker 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 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 In his lawless fit Behind the arras hearing something stir, Whips out his rapier, cries 'A rat, a rat!' And in this brainish apprehension kills The unseen good old man But so much was our love We would not understand what was most fit, But, like the owner of a foul disease, To keep it from divulging, let it feed Even on the pith of life Hamlet in madness hath Polonius slain, And from his mother's closet hath he dragg'd him How dangerous is it that this man goes loose! Yet must not we put the strong law on him He's lov'd of the distracted multitude, Who like not in their judgment, but their eyes; And where 'tis so, th' offender's scourge is weigh'd, But never the offence A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a king, and eat of the fish that hath fed of that worm But indeed, if you find him not within this month, you shall nose him as you go up the stair, into the lobby My mother! Father and mother is man and wife; man and wife is one flesh; and so, my mother Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern] And, England, if my love thou hold'st at aught,- As my great power thereof may give thee sense, Since yet thy cicatrice looks raw and red After the Danish sword, and thy free awe Pays homage to us,- thou mayst not coldly set Our sovereign process, which imports at full, By letters congruing to that effect, The present death of Hamlet Truly to speak, and with no addition, We go to gain a little patch of ground That hath in it no profit but the name Two thousand souls and twenty thousand ducats Will not debate the question of this straw This is th' imposthume of much wealth and peace, That inward breaks, and shows no cause without Why the man dies.- I humbly thank you, sir Rightly to be great Is not to stir without great argument, But greatly to find quarrel in a straw When honour's at the stake Indeed, la, without an oath, I'll make an end on't! [Sings] By Gis and by Saint Charity, Alack, and fie for shame! Young men will do't if they come to't By Cock, they are to blame We must be patient; but I cannot choose but weep to think they would lay him i' th' cold ground [Exit Horatio.] O, this is the poison of deep grief; it springs All from her father's death That drop of blood that's calm proclaims me bastard; Cries cuckold to my father; brands the harlot Even here between the chaste unsmirched brows Of my true mother To this point I stand, That both the world, I give to negligence, Let come what comes; only I'll be reveng'd Most throughly for my father My will, not all the world! And for my means, I'll husband them so well They shall go far with little To his good friends thus wide I'll ope my arms And, like the kind life-rend'ring pelican, Repast them with my blood O heat, dry up my brains! Tears seven times salt Burn out the sense and virtue of mine eye! By heaven, thy madness shall be paid by weight Till our scale turn the beam O rose of May! Dear maid, kind sister, sweet Ophelia! O heavens! is't possible a young maid's wits Should be as mortal as an old man's life? Nature is fine in love, and where 'tis fine, It sends some precious instance of itself After the thing it loves Go but apart, Make choice of whom your wisest friends you will, And they shall hear and judge 'twixt you and me (reads the letter) 'Horatio, when thou shalt have overlook'd this, give these fellows some means to the King Finding ourselves too slow of sail, we put on a compelled valour, and in the grapple I boarded them I have words to speak in thine ear will make thee dumb; yet are they much too light for the bore of the matter 'He that thou knowest thine, HAMLET.' Come, I will give you way for these your letters, And do't the speedier that you may direct me To him from whom you brought them O, for two special reasons, Which may to you, perhaps, seein much unsinew'd, But yet to me they are strong 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 My lord, I will be rul'd; The rather, if you could devise it so That I might be the organ You have been talk'd of since your travel much, And that in Hamlet's hearing, for a quality Wherein they say you shine, Your sun of parts Did not together pluck such envy from him As did that one; and that, in my regard, Of the unworthiest siege He grew unto his seat, And to such wondrous doing brought his horse As had he been incorps'd and demi-natur'd With the brave beast The scrimers of their nation He swore had neither motion, guard, nor eye, If you oppos'd them 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 He, being remiss, Most generous, and free from all contriving, Will not peruse the foils; so that with ease, Or with a little shuffling, you may choose A sword unbated, and, in a pass of practice, Requite him for your father There is a willow grows aslant a brook, That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream 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 There on the pendant boughs her coronet weeds Clamb'ring to hang, an envious sliver broke, When down her weedy trophies and herself Fell in the weeping brook How much I had to do to calm his rage I Now fear I this will give it start again; Therefore let's follow Is she to be buried in Christian burial when she wilfully seeks her own salvation? Other Why, there thou say'st! And the more pity that great folk should have count'nance in this world to drown or hang themselves more than their even-Christen What, art a heathen? How dost thou understand the Scripture? The Scripture says Adam digg'd What is he that builds stronger than either the mason, the shipwright, or the carpenter? Other In youth when I did love, did love, Methought it was very sweet; To contract- O- the time for- a- my behove, O, methought there- a- was nothing- a- meet Why, e'en so! and now my Lady Worm's, chapless, and knock'd about the mazzard with a sexton's spade Alexander died, Alexander was buried, Alexander returneth into dust; the dust is earth; of earth we make loam; and why of that loam (whereto he was converted) might they not stop a beer barrel? Imperious Caesar, dead and turn'd to clay, Might stop a hole to keep the wind away O, that that earth which kept the world in awe Should patch a wall t' expel the winter's flaw! But soft! but soft! aside! Here comes the King- Enter [priests with] a coffin [in funeral procession], King, Queen, Laertes, with Lords attendant.] The Queen, the courtiers Her death was doubtful; And, but that great command o'ersways the order, She should in ground unsanctified have lodg'd Till the last trumpet [comes forward] What is he whose grief Bears such an emphasis? whose phrase of sorrow Conjures the wand'ring stars, and makes them stand Like wonder-wounded hearers? This is I, Hamlet the Dane Being thus benetted round with villanies, Or I could make a prologue to my brains, They had begun the play I had my father's signet in my purse, which was the model of that Danish seal; Folded the writ up in the form of th' other, Subscrib'd it, gave't th' impression, plac'd it safely, The changeling never known Why, man, they did make love to this employment! They are not near my conscience; their defeat Does by their own insinuation grow It will be short; the interim is mine, And a man's life is no more than to say 'one.' But I am very sorry, good Horatio, That to Laertes I forgot myself, For by the image of my cause I see The portraiture of his 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 I mean, sir, for his weapon; but in the imputation laid on him by them, in his meed he's unfellowed The King, sir, hath laid that, in a dozen passes between yourself and him, he shall not exceed you three hits; he hath laid on twelve for nine, and it would come to immediate trial if your lordship would vouchsafe the answer 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 [Exit Osric.] He does well to commend it himself; there are no tongues else for's turn My lord, his Majesty commended him to you by young Osric, who brings back to him, that you attend him in the hall If Hamlet from himself be taken away, And when he's not himself does wrong Laertes, Then Hamlet does it not, Hamlet denies it 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 I do not fear it, I have seen you both; But since he is better'd, we have therefore odds Give me the cups; And let the kettle to the trumpet speak, The trumpet to the cannoneer without, The cannons to the heavens, the heaven to earth, 'Now the King drinks to Hamlet.' Come, begin Here, thou incestuous, murd'rous, damned Dane, Drink off this potion! Is thy union here? Follow my mother Horatio, I am dead; Thou liv'st; report me and my cause aright To the unsatisfied So tell him, with th' occurrents, more and less, Which have solicited- the rest is silence But since, so jump upon this bloody question, You from the Polack wars, and you from England, Are here arriv'd, give order that these bodies High on a stage be placed to the view; And let me speak to the yet unknowing world How these things came about Enter the King, Lord John of Lancaster, Earl of Westmoreland, [Sir Walter Blunt,] with others Therefore, friends, As far as to the sepulchre of Christ- Whose soldier now, under whose blessed cross We are impressed and engag'd to fight- Forthwith a power of English shall we levy, Whose arms were moulded in their mother's womb To chase these pagans in those holy fields Over whose acres walk'd those blessed feet Which fourteen hundred years ago were nail'd For our advantage on the bitter cross This, match'd with other, did, my gracious lord; For more uneven and unwelcome news Came from the North, and thus it did import On Holy-rood Day the gallant Hotspur there, Young Harry Percy, and brave Archibald, That ever-valiant and approved Scot, At Holmedon met, Where they did spend a sad and bloody hour; As by discharge of their artillery And shape of likelihood the news was told; For he that brought them, in the very heat And pride of their contention did take horse, Uncertain of the issue any way 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 This is his uncle's teaching, this Worcester, Malevolent to you In all aspects, Which makes him prune himself and bristle up The crest of youth against your dignity 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 Let us be Diana's Foresters, Gentlemen of the Shade, Minions of the Moon; and let men say we be men of good government, being governed as the sea is, by our noble and chaste mistress the moon, under whose countenance we steal Thou sayest well, and it holds well too; for the fortune of us that are the moon's men doth ebb and flow like the sea, being governed, as the sea is, by the moon a purse of gold most resolutely snatch'd on Monday night and most dissolutely spent on Tuesday morning; got with swearing 'Lay by,' and spent with crying 'Bring in'; now ill as low an ebb as the foot of the ladder, and by-and-by in as high a flow as the ridge of the gallows Well, Hal, well; and in some sort it jumps with my humour as well as waiting in the court, I can tell you Thou hast done much harm upon me, Hal- God forgive thee for it! Before I knew thee, Hal, I knew nothing; and now am I, if a man should speak truly, little better than one of the wicked Why, we will set forth before or after them and appoint them a place of meeting, wherein it is at our pleasure to fail; and then will they adventure upon the exploit themselves; which they shall have no sooner achieved, but we'll set upon them 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 My blood hath been too cold and temperate, Unapt to stir at these indignities, And you have found me, for accordingly You tread upon my patience; but be sure I will from henceforth rather be myself, Mighty and to be fear'd, than my condition, Which hath been smooth as oil, soft as young down, And therefore lost that title of respect Which the proud soul ne'er pays but to the proud O, sir, your presence is too bold and peremptory, And majesty might never yet endure The moody frontier of a servant brow 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 The circumstance considered, good my lord, Whate'er Lord Harry Percy then had said To such a person, and in such a place, At such a time, with all the rest retold, May reasonably die, and never rise To do him wrong, or any way impeach What then he said, so he unsay it now Revolted Mortimer? He never did fall off, my sovereign liege, But by the chance of war Three times they breath'd, and three times did they drink, Upon agreement, of swift Severn's flood; Who then, affrighted with their bloody looks, Ran fearfully among the trembling reeds And hid his crisp head in the hollow bank, Bloodstained with these valiant cohabitants He will (forsooth) have all my prisoners; And when I urg'd the ransom once again Of my wive's brother, then his cheek look'd pale, And on my face he turn'd an eye of death, Trembling even at the name of Mortimer Nay, then I cannot blame his cousin king, That wish'd him on the barren mountains starve 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 Peace, cousin, say no more; And now, I will unclasp a secret book, And to your quick-conceiving discontents I'll read you matter deep and dangerous, As full of peril and adventurous spirit As to o'erwalk a current roaring loud On the unsteadfast footing of a spear 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 [To Northumberland] You, my lord, Your son in Scotland being thus employ'd, Shall secretly into the bosom creep Of that same noble prelate well-belov'd, The Archbishop Peas and beans are as dank here as a dog, and that is the next way to give poor jades the bots Like a tench I By the mass, there is ne'er a king christen could be better bit than I have been since the first cock What, ostler! A plague on thee! hast thou never an eye in thy head? Canst not hear? An 'twere not as good deed as drink to break the pate on thee, I am a very villain Tut! there are other Troyans that thou dream'st not of, the which for sport sake are content to do the profession some grace; that would (if matters should be look'd into) for their own credit sake make all whole 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 I have forsworn his company hourly any time this two-and-twenty years, and yet I am bewitch'd with the rogue's company Poins! Hal! A plague upon you both! Bardolph! Peto! I'll starve ere I'll rob a foot further Have you any levers to lift me up again, being down? 'Sblood, I'll not bear mine own flesh so far afoot again for all the coin in thy father's exchequer Case ye, case ye! On with your vizards! There's money of the King's coming down the hill; 'tis going to the King's exchequer Strike! down with them! cut the villains' throats! Ah, whoreson caterpillars! bacon-fed knaves! they hate us youth You are grandjurors, are ye? We'll jure ye, faith! Here they rob and bind them The thieves are scattered, and possess'd with fear So strongly that they dare not meet each other O, I could divide myself and go to buffets for moving such a dish of skim milk with so honourable an action! Hang him, let him tell the King! we are prepared 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 Come, wilt thou see me ride? And when I am a-horseback, I will swear I love thee infinitely 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 But, sweet Ned- to sweeten which name of Ned, I give thee this pennyworth of sugar, clapp'd even now into my hand by an under-skinker, one that never spake other English in his life than 'Eight shillings and sixpence,' and 'You are welcome,' with this shrill addition, 'Anon, anon, sir! Score a pint of bastard in the Half-moon,' or so- but, Ned, to drive away the time till Falstaff come, I prithee do thou stand in some by-room while I question my puny drawer to what end be gave me the sugar; and do thou never leave calling 'Francis!' that his tale to me may be nothing but 'Anon!' Step aside, and I'll show thee a precedent That ever this fellow should have fewer words than a parrot, and yet the son of a woman! His industry is upstairs and downstairs, his eloquence the parcel of a reckoning Didst thou never see Titan kiss a dish of butter? Pitiful-hearted butter, that melted at the sweet tale of the sun! If thou didst, then behold that compound Yet a coward is worse than a cup of sack with lime in it- a villanous coward! Go thy ways, old Jack, die when thou wilt; if manhood, good manhood, be not forgot upon the face of the earth, then am I a shotten herring There lives not three good men unhang'd in England; and one of them is fat, and grows old Call you that backing of your friends? A plague upon such backing! Give me them that will face me 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 What, upon compulsion? Zounds, an I were at the strappado or all the racks in the world, I would not tell you on compulsion Then did we two set on you four and, with a word, outfac'd you from your prize, and have it; yea, and can show it you here in the house 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 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 Why then, it is like, if there come a hot June, and this civil buffeting hold, we shall buy maidenheads as they buy hobnails, by the hundreds For God's sake, lords, convey my tristful queen! For tears do stop the floodgates of her eyes This pitch, as ancient writers do report, doth defile; so doth the company thou keepest If I become not a cart as well as another man, a plague on my bringing up! I hope I shall as soon be strangled with a halter as another 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 Give me leave To tell you once again that at my birth The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes, The goats ran from the mountains, and the herds Were strangely clamorous to the frighted fields 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 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 England, from Trent and Severn hitherto, By south and east is to my part assign'd; All westward, Wales beyond the Severn shore, And all the fertile land within that bound, To Owen Glendower; and, dear coz, to you The remnant northward lying off from Trent 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 Yea, but Mark how he bears his course, and runs me up With like advantage on the other side, Gelding the opposed continent as much As on the other side it takes from you 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 Marry, And I am glad of it with all my heart! I had rather be a kitten and cry mew Than one of these same metre ballet-mongers I warrant you that man is not alive Might so have tempted him as you have done Without the taste of danger and reproof 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 My daughter weeps; she will not part with you; She'll be a soldier too, she'll to the wars Glendower speaks to her in Welsh, and she answers him in the same That pretty Welsh Which thou pourest down from these swelling heavens I am too perfect in; and, but for shame, In such a Barley should I answer thee She bids you on the wanton rushes lay you down And rest your gentle head upon her lap, And she will sing the song that pleaseth you And on your eyelids crown the god of sleep, Charming your blood with pleasing heaviness, Making such difference 'twixt wake and sleep As is the difference betwixt day and night The hour before the heavenly-harness'd team Begins his golden progress in the East 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 'Not you, in good sooth!' and 'as true as I live!' and 'as God shall mend me!' and 'as sure as day!' And givest such sarcenet surety for thy oaths As if thou ne'er walk'st further than Finsbury God pardon thee! Yet let me wonder, Harry, At thy affections, which do hold a wing, Quite from the flight of all thy ancestors 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 By being seldom seen, I could not stir But, like a comet, I Was wond'red at; That men would tell their children, 'This is he!' Others would say, 'Where? Which is Bolingbroke?' And then I stole all courtesy from heaven, And dress'd myself in such humility That I did pluck allegiance from men's hearts, Loud shouts and salutations from their mouths Even in the presence of the crowned King 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 What never-dying honour hath he got Against renowmed Douglas! whose high deeds, Whose hot incursions and great name in arms Holds from all soldiers chief majority And military title capital Through all the kingdoms that acknowledge Christ 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 Percy is but my factor, good my lord, To engross up glorious deeds on my behalf; And I will call hall to so strict account That he shall render every glory up, Yea, even the slightest worship of his time, Or I will tear the reckoning from his heart This in the name of God I promise here; The which if he be pleas'd I shall perform, I do beseech your Majesty may salve The long-grown wounds of my intemperance If not, the end of life cancels all bands, And I will die a hundred thousand deaths Ere break the smallest parcel of this vow Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath sent word That Douglas and the English rebels met The eleventh of this month at Shrewsbury Bardolph, am I not fall'n away vilely since this last action? Do I not bate? Do I not dwindle? Why, my skin hangs about me like an old lady's loose gown! I am withered like an old apple John Thou art our admiral, thou bearest the lantern in the poop- but 'tis in the nose of thee When thou ran'st up Gadshill in the night to catch my horse, if I did not think thou hadst been an ignis fatuus or a ball of wildfire, there's no purchase in money Dowlas, filthy dowlas! I have given them away to bakers' wives; they have made bolters of them 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 Enter the Prince [and Poins], marching; and Falstaff meets them, playing upon his truncheon like a fife Wilt thou believe me, Hal? Three or four bonds of forty pound apiece and a seal-ring of my grandfather's There's no more faith in thee than in a stewed prune, nor no more truth in thee than in a drawn fox; and for woman-hood, Maid Marian may be the deputy's wife of the ward to thee Dost thou hear, Hal? Thou knowest in the state of innocency Adam fell; and what should poor Jack Falstaff do in the days of villany? Thou seest I have more flesh than another man, and therefore more frailty Where shall I find one that can steal well? O for a fine thief of the age of two-and-twenty or thereabouts! I am heinously unprovided Go bear this letter to Lord John of Lancaster, To my brother John; this to my Lord of Westmoreland [Exit Poins.] Jack, meet me to-morrow in the Temple Hall At two o'clock in the afternoon If speaking truth In this fine age were not thought flattery, Such attribution should the Douglas have As not a soldier of this season's stamp Should go so general current through the world A rendezvous, a home to fly unto, If that the devil and mischance look big Upon the maidenhead of our affairs It will be thought By some that know not why he is away, That wisdom, loyalty, and mere dislike Of our proceedings kept the Earl from hence For well you know we of the off'ring side Must keep aloof from strict arbitrement, And stop all sight-holes, every loop from whence The eye of reason may pry in upon us The Earl of Westmoreland, seven thousand strong, Is marching hitherwards; with him Prince John 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 Come, let me taste my horse, Who is to bear me like a thunderbolt Against the bosom of the Prince of Wales An if it do, take it for thy labour; an if it make twenty, take them all; I'll answer the coinage A mad fellow met me on the way, and told me I had unloaded all the gibbets and press'd the dead bodies Nay, and the villains march wide betwixt the legs, as if they had gyves on; for indeed I had the most of them out of prison Faith, Sir John, 'tis more than time that I were there, and you too; but my powers are there already Faith, for their poverty, I know, not where they had that; and for their bareness, I am surd they never learn'd that of me Your uncle Worcester's horse came but to-day; And now their pride and mettle is asleep, Their courage with hard labour tame and dull, That not a horse is half the half of himself Now, when the lords and barons of the realm Perceiv'd Northumberland did lean to him, The more and less came in with cap and knee; Met him on boroughs, cities, villages, Attended him on bridges, stood in lanes, Laid gifts before him, proffer'd him their oaths, Give him their heirs as pages, followed him Even at the heels in golden multitudes He presently, as greatness knows itself, Steps me a little higher than his vow Made to my father, while his blood was poor, Upon the naked shore at Ravenspurgh; And now, forsooth, takes on him to reform Some certain edicts and some strait decrees That lie too heavy on the commonwealth; Cries out upon abuses, seems to weep Over his country's wrongs; and by this face, This seeming brow of justice, did he win The hearts of all that he did angle for; Proceeded further- cut me off the heads Of all the favourites that the absent King In deputation left behind him here When he was personal in the Irish war Hie, good Sir Michael; bear this sealed brief With winged haste to the Lord Marshal; This to my cousin Scroop; and all the rest To whom they are directed To-morrow, good Sir Michael, is a day Wherein the fortune of ten thousand men Must bide the touch; for, sir, at Shrewsbury, As I am truly given to understand, The King with mighty and quick-raised power Meets with Lord Harry; and I fear, Sir Michael, What with the sickness of Northumberland, Whose power was in the first proportion, And what with Owen Glendower's absence thence, Who with them was a rated sinew too And comes not in, overrul'd by prophecies- I fear the power of Percy is too weak To wage an instant trial with the King I hope no less, yet needful 'tis to fear; And, to prevent the worst, Sir Michael, speed For mine own part, I could be well content To entertain the lag-end of my life With quiet hours; for I do protest I have not sought the day of this dislike 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 It was myself, my brother, and his son That brought you home and boldly did outdare The dangers of the time You swore to us, And you did swear that oath at Doncaster, That you did nothing purpose 'gainst the state, Nor claim no further than your new-fall'n right, The seat of Gaunt, dukedom of Lancaster In both our armies there is many a soul Shall pay full dearly for this encounter, If once they join in trial But if he will not yield, Rebuke and dread correction wait on us, And they shall do their office Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on? How then? Can honor set to a leg? No Look how we can, or sad or merrily, Interpretation will misquote our looks, And we shall feed like oxen at a stall, The better cherish'd, still the nearer death We did train him on; And, his corruption being taken from us, We, as the spring of all, shall pay for all I cannot read them now.- O gentlemen, the time of life is short! To spend that shortness basely were too long If life did ride upon a dial's point, Still ending at the arrival of an hour An if we live, we live to tread on kings; If die, brave death, when princes die with us! Now for our consciences, the arms are fair, When the intent of bearing them is just Only this- Let each man do his best; and here draw I A sword whose temper I intend to stain With the best blood that I can meet withal In the adventure of this perilous day A gallant knight he was, his name was Blunt; Semblably furnish'd like the King himself Now, by my sword, I will kill all his coats; I'll murder all his wardrop, piece by piece, Until I meet the King What, is it a time to jest and dally now? He throws the bottle at him 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 I have two boys Seek Percy and thyself about the field; But, seeing thou fall'st on me so luckily, I will assay thee 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 But let my favours hide thy mangled face; And, even in thy behalf, I'll thank myself For doing these fair rites of tenderness Adieu, and take thy praise with thee to heaven! Thy ignominy sleep with thee in the grave, But not rememb'red in thy epitaph! He spieth Falstaff on the ground How if he should counterfeit too, and rise? By my faith, I am afraid he would prove the better counterfeit No, that's certain! I am not a double man; but if I be not Jack Falstaff, then am I a Jack If I may be believ'd, so; if not, let them that should reward valour bear the sin upon their own heads The noble Scot, Lord Douglas, when he saw The fortune of the day quite turn'd from him, The Noble Percy slain and all his men Upon the foot of fear, fled with the rest; And falling from a hill,he was so bruis'd That the pursuers took him His valour shown upon our crests today Hath taught us how to cherish such high deeds, Even in the bosom of our adversaries Myself and you, son Harry, will towards Wales To fight with Glendower and the Earl of March 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 But what need I thus My well-known body to anatomize Among my household? Why is Rumour here? I run before King Harry's victory, Who, in a bloody field by Shrewsbury, Hath beaten down young Hotspur and his troops, Quenching the flame of bold rebellion Even with the rebels' blood The posts come tiring on, And not a man of them brings other news Than they have learnt of me I spake with one, my lord, that came from thence; A gentleman well bred and of good name, That freely rend'red me these news for true After him came spurring hard A gentleman, almost forspent with speed, That stopp'd by me to breathe his bloodied horse 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 The tongue offends not that reports his death; And he doth sin that doth belie the dead, Not he which says the dead is not alive 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 And as the thing that's heavy in itself Upon enforcement flies with greatest speed, So did our men, heavy in Hotspur's loss, Lend to this weight such lightness with their fear That arrows fled not swifter toward their aim Than did our soldiers, aiming at their safety, Fly from the field In poison there is physic; and these news, Having been well, that would have made me sick, Being sick, have in some measure made me well; And as the wretch whose fever-weak'ned joints, Like strengthless hinges, buckle under life, Impatient of his fit, breaks like a fire Out of his keeper's arms, even so my limbs, Weak'ned with grief, being now enrag'd with grief, Are thrice themselves You cast th' event of war, my noble lord, And summ'd the account of chance before you said 'Let us make head.' It was your pre-surmise That in the dole of blows your son might drop You knew he walk'd o'er perils on an edge, More likely to fall in than to get o'er; You were advis'd his flesh was capable Of wounds and scars, and that his forward spirit Would lift him where most trade of danger rang'd; Yet did you say 'Go forth'; and none of this, Though strongly apprehended, could restrain The stiff-borne action He may keep it still at a face-royal, for a barber shall never earn sixpence out of it; and yet he'll be crowing as if he had writ man ever since his father was a bachelor 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 What! a young knave, and begging! Is there not wars? Is there not employment? Doth not the King lack subjects? Do not the rebels need soldiers? Though it be a shame to be on any side but one, it is worse shame to beg than to be on the worst side, were it worse than the name of rebellion can tell how to make it I pray you, sir, then set your knighthood and your soldiership aside; and give me leave to tell you you in your throat, if you say I am any other than an honest man A wassail candle, my lord- all tallow; if I did say of wax, my growth would approve the truth 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 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 Go bear this letter to my Lord of Lancaster; this to the Prince; this to the Earl of Westmoreland; and this to old Mistress Ursula, whom I have weekly sworn to marry since I perceiv'd the first white hair of my chin '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 Yes, if this present quality of war- Indeed the instant action, a cause on foot- Lives so in hope, as in an early spring We see th' appearing buds; which to prove fruit Hope gives not so much warrant, as despair That frosts will bite them Grant that our hopes- yet likely of fair birth- Should be still-born, and that we now possess'd The utmost man of expectation, I think we are so a body strong enough, Even as we are, to equal with the King In good faith, 'a cares not what mischief he does, if his weapon be out; he will foin like any devil; he will spare neither man, woman, nor child 'A comes continuantly to Pie-corner- saving your manhoods- to buy a saddle; and he is indited to dinner to the Lubber's Head in Lumbert Street, to Master Smooth's the silkman Canst thou deny it? Did not goodwife Keech, the butcher's wife, come in then and call me gossip Quickly? Coming in to borrow a mess of vinegar, telling us she had a good dish of prawns, whereby thou didst desire to eat some, whereby I told thee they were ill for green wound? And didst thou not, when she was gone down stairs, desire me to be no more so familiarity with such poor people, saying that ere long they should call me madam? And didst thou not kiss me, and bid me fetch the thirty shillings? I put thee now to thy book-oath My lord, this is a poor mad soul, and she says up and down the town that her eldest son is like you Sir John, Sir John, I am well acquainted with your manner of wrenching the true cause the false way 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 I say to you I do desire deliverance from these officers, being upon hasty employment in the King's affairs 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 Belike then my appetite was not-princely got; for, by my troth, I do now remember the poor creature, small beer And God knows whether those that bawl out of the ruins of thy linen shall inherit his kingdom; but the midwives say the children are not in the fault; whereupon the world increases, and kindreds are mightily strengthened 'A calls me e'en now, my lord, through a red lattice, and I could discern no part of his face from the window Marry, my lord, Althaea dreamt she was delivered of a firebrand; and therefore I call him her dream O that this blossom could be kept from cankers! Well, there is sixpence to preserve thee Well, thus we play the fools with the time, and the spirits of the wise sit in the clouds and mock us 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 so that in speech, in gait, In diet, in affections of delight, In military rules, humours of blood, He was the mark and glass, copy and book, That fashion'd others Never, O never, do his ghost the wrong To hold your honour more precise and nice With others than with him! Let them alone O, fly to Scotland Till that the nobles and the armed commons Have of their puissance made a little taste If they get ground and vantage of the King, Then join you with them, like a rib of steel, To make strength stronger; but, for all our loves, First let them try themselves 'Tis with my mind As with the tide swell'd up unto his height, That makes a still-stand, running neither way The Prince once set a dish of apple-johns before him, and told him there were five more Sir Johns; and, putting off his hat, said 'I will now take my leave of these six dry, round, old, withered knights.' It ang'red him to the heart; but he hath forgot that Can a weak empty vessel bear such a huge full hogs-head? There's a whole merchant's venture of Bourdeaux stuff in him; you have not seen a hulk better stuff'd in the hold Thou art going to the wars; and whether I shall ever see thee again or no, there is nobody cares Hang him, swaggering rascal! Let him not come hither; it is the foul-mouth'dst rogue in England Captain! Thou abominable damn'd cheater, art thou not ashamed to be called captain? An captains were of my mind, they would truncheon you out, for taking their names upon you before you have earn'd them 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 'Si fortune me tormente sperato me contento.' Fear we broadsides? No, let the fiend give fire Here's a goodly tumult! I'll forswear keeping house afore I'll be in these tirrits and frights Thou art as valorous as Hector of Troy, worth five of Agamemnon, and ten times better than the Nine Worthies Because their legs are both of a bigness, and 'a plays at quoits well, and eats conger and fennel, and drinks off candles' ends for flap-dragons, and rides the wild mare with the boys, and jumps upon join'd-stools, and swears with a good grace, and wears his boots very smooth, like unto the sign of the Leg, and breeds no bate with telling of discreet stories; and such other gambol faculties 'a has, that show a weak mind and an able body, for the which the Prince admits him My lord, he will drive you out of your revenge and turn all to a merriment, if you take not the heat I have known thee these twenty-nine years, come peascod-time; but an honester and truer-hearted man -well fare thee well 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 Exit page How many thousands of my poorest subjects Are at this hour asleep! O sleep, O gentle sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frightened thee, That thou no more will weigh my eyelids down, And steep my senses in forgetfulness? Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs, Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee, And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber, Than in the perfum'd chambers of the great, Under the canopies of costly state, And lull'd with sound of sweetest melody? O thou dull god, why liest thou with the vile In loathsome beds, and leav'st the kingly couch A watch-case or a common 'larum-bell? Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains In cradle of the rude imperious surge, And in the visitation of the winds, Who take the ruffian billows by the top, Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them With deafing clamour in the slippery clouds, That with the hurly death itself awakes? Canst thou, O partial sleep, give thy repose To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude; And in the calmest and most stillest night, With all appliances and means to boot, Deny it to a king? Then, happy low, lie down! Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown 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 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 'Tis not ten years gone Since Richard and Northumberland, great friends, Did feast together, and in two years after Were they at wars 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 And, were these inward wars once out of hand, We would, dear lords, unto the Holy Land There was I, and little John Doit of Staffordshire, and black George Barnes, and Francis Pickbone, and Will Squele a Cotsole man- you had not four such swinge-bucklers in all the Inns of Court again I am Robert Shallow, sir, a poor esquire of this county, and one of the King's justices of the peace Peace, fellow, peace; stand aside; know you where you are? For th' other, Sir John- let me see It were superfluous; for his apparel is built upon his back, and the whole frame stands upon pins A whoreson cold, sir, a cough, sir, which I caught with ringing in the King's affairs upon his coronation day, sir We will have away thy cold; and I will take such order that thy friends shall ring for thee Will you tell me, Master Shallow, how to choose a man? Care I for the limb, the thews, the stature, bulk, and big assemblance of a man! Give me the spirit, Master Shallow '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 He presents no mark to the enemy; the foeman may with as great aim level at the edge of a penknife 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 Lord, Lord, how subject we old men are to this vice of lying! This same starv'd justice hath done nothing but prate to me of the wildness of his youth and the feats he hath done about Turnbull Street; and every third word a lie, duer paid to the hearer than the Turk's tribute 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 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 Our battle is more full of names than yours, Our men more perfect in the use of arms, Our armour all as strong, our cause the best; Then reason will our hearts should be as good 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 'Tis very true; And therefore be assur'd, my good Lord Marshal, If we do now make our atonement well, Our peace will, like a broken limb united, Grow stronger for the breaking 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 O, who shall believe But you misuse the reverence of your place, Employ the countenance and grace of heav'n As a false favourite doth his prince's name, In deeds dishonourable? You have ta'en up, Under the counterfeited zeal of God, The subjects of His substitute, my father, And both against the peace of heaven and him Have here up-swarm'd them I sent your Grace The parcels and particulars of our grief, The which hath been with scorn shov'd from the court, Whereon this hydra son of war is born; Whose dangerous eyes may well be charm'd asleep With grant of our most just and right desires; And true obedience, of this madness cur'd, Stoop tamely to the foot of majesty YOU are too shallow, Hastings, much to shallow, To sound the bottom of the after-times A peace is of the nature of a conquest; For then both parties nobly are subdu'd, And neither party loser The leaders, having charge from you to stand, Will not go off until they hear you speak Colville shall still be your name, a traitor your degree, and the dungeon your place- a place deep enough; so shall you be still Colville of the Dale 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 Exit WESTMORELAND Now, Falstaff, where have you been all this while? When everything is ended, then you come These tardy tricks of yours will, on my life, One time or other break some gallows' back Here he is, and here I yield him; and I beseech your Grace, let it be book'd with the rest of this day's deeds; or, by the Lord, I will have it in a particular ballad else, with mine own picture on the top on't, Colville kissing my foot; to the which course if I be enforc'd, if you do not all show like gilt twopences to me, and I, in the clear sky of fame, o'ershine you as much as the full moon doth the cinders of the element, which show like pins' heads to her, believe not the word of the noble I know not how they sold themselves; but thou, like a kind fellow, gavest thyself away gratis; and I thank thee for thee 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 It ascends me into the brain; dries me there all the foolish and dull and crudy vapours which environ it; makes it apprehensive, quick, forgetive, full of nimble, fiery, and delectable shapes; which delivered o'er to the voice, the tongue, which is the birth, becomes excellent wit 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 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 Only we want a little personal strength; And pause us till these rebels, now afoot, Come underneath the yoke of government 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 He hath a tear for pity and a hand Open as day for melting charity; Yet notwithstanding, being incens'd, he is flint; As humorous as winter, and as sudden As flaws congealed in the spring of day Chide him for faults, and do it reverently, When you perceive his blood inclin'd to mirth; But, being moody, give him line and scope Till that his passions, like a whale on ground, Confound themselves with working Most subject is the fattest soil to weeds; And he, the noble image of my youth, Is overspread with them; therefore my grief Stretches itself beyond the hour of death Mowbray, the Bishop Scroop, Hastings, and all, Are brought to the correction of your law O Westmoreland, thou art a summer bird, Which ever in the haunch of winter sings The lifting up of day From enemies heaven keep your Majesty; And, when they stand against you, may they fall As those that I am come to tell you of! The Earl Northumberland and the Lord Bardolph, With a great power of English and of Scots, Are by the shrieve of Yorkshire overthrown The seasons change their manners, as the year Had found some months asleep, and leapt them over Exeunt all but the PRINCE Why doth the crown lie there upon his pillow, Being so troublesome a bedfellow? O polish'd perturbation! golden care! That keep'st the ports of slumber open wide To many a watchful night! Sleep with it now! Yet not so sound and half so deeply sweet As he whose brow with homely biggen bound Snores out the watch of night Thy due from me Is tears and heavy sorrows of the blood Which nature, love, and filial tenderness, Shall, O dear father, pay thee plenteously Is he so hasty that he doth suppose My sleep my death? Find him, my lord of Warwick; chide him hither Dost thou so hunger for mine empty chair That thou wilt needs invest thee with my honours Before thy hour be ripe? O foolish youth! Thou seek'st the greatness that will overwhelm thee Let all the tears that should bedew my hearse Be drops of balm to sanctify thy head; Only compound me with forgotten dust; Give that which gave thee life unto the worms Pluck down my officers, break my decrees; For now a time is come to mock at form- Harry the Fifth is crown'd O, pardon me, my liege! But for my tears, The moist impediments unto my speech, I had forestall'd this dear and deep rebuke Ere you with grief had spoke and I had heard The course of it so far 'The care on thee depending Hath fed upon the body of my father; Therefore thou best of gold art worst of gold Other, less fine in carat, is more precious, Preserving life in med'cine potable; But thou, most fine, most honour'd, most renown'd, Hast eat thy bearer up.' Thus, my most royal liege, Accusing it, I put it on my head, To try with it- as with an enemy That had before my face murd'red my father- The quarrel of a true inheritor O my son, God put it in thy mind to take it hence, That thou mightst win the more thy father's love, Pleading so wisely in excuse of it! Come hither, Harry; sit thou by my bed, And hear, I think, the very latest counsel That ever I shall breathe To thee it shall descend with better quiet, Better opinion, better confirmation; For all the soil of the achievement goes With me into the earth 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 Therefore, my Harry, Be it thy course to busy giddy minds With foreign quarrels, that action, hence borne out, May waste the memory of the former days My gracious liege, You won it, wore it, kept it, gave it me; Then plain and right must my possession be; Which I with more than with a common pain 'Gainst all the world will rightfully maintain Thou bring'st me happiness and peace, son John; But health, alack, with youthful wings is flown From this bare wither'd trunk It hath been prophesied to me many years, I should not die but in Jerusalem; Which vainly I suppos'd the Holy Land Davy, Davy, Davy, Davy; let me see, Davy; let me see, Davy; let me see- yea, marry, William cook, bid him come hither The knave is mine honest friend, sir; therefore, I beseech you, let him be countenanc'd Their spirits are so married in conjunction with the participation of society that they flock together in consent, like so many wild geese It is certain that either wise bearing or ignorant carriage is caught, as men take diseases, one of another; therefore let men take heed of their company 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 Shall dunghill curs confront the Helicons? And shall good news be baffled? Then, Pistol, lay thy head in Furies' lap If, sir, you come with news from the court, I take it there's but two ways- either to utter them or conceal them A foutra for thine office! Sir John, thy tender lambkin now is King; Harry the Fifth's the man Let vultures vile seize on his lungs also! 'Where is the life that late I led?' say they Come, I charge you both go with me; for the man is dead that you and Pistol beat amongst you I will leer upon him, as 'a comes by; and do but mark the countenance that he will give me But 'tis no matter; this poor show doth better; this doth infer the zeal I had to see him 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 Bate me some, and I will pay you some, and, as most debtors do, promise you infinitely; and so I kneel down before you- but, indeed, to pray for the Queen If the gentlemen will not, then the gentlemen do not agree with the gentlewomen, which was never seen before in such an assembly If you be not too much cloy'd with fat meat, our humble author will continue the story, with Sir John in it, and make you merry with fair Katherine of France; where, for anything I know, Falstaff shall die of a sweat, unless already 'a be killed with your hard opinions; for Oldcastle died a martyr and this is not the man DRAMATIS PERSONAE CHORUS KING HENRY THE FIFTH DUKE OF GLOUCESTER, brother to the King DUKE OF BEDFORD, " " " " DUKE OF EXETER, Uncle to the King DUKE OF YORK, cousin to the King EARL OF SALISBURY EARL OF WESTMORELAND EARL OF WARWICK ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY BISHOP OF ELY EARL OF CAMBRIDGE, conspirator against the King LORD SCROOP, " " " " SIR THOMAS GREY, " " " " SIR THOMAS ERPINGHAM, officer in the King's army GOWER, " " " " " FLUELLEN, " " " " " MACMORRIS, " " " " " JAMY, " " " " " BATES, soldier in the King's army COURT, " " " " " WILLIAMS, " " " " " NYM, " " " " " BARDOLPH, " " " " " PISTOL, " " " " " BOY A HERALD CHARLES THE SIXTH, King of France LEWIS, the Dauphin DUKE OF BURGUNDY DUKE OF ORLEANS DUKE OF BRITAINE DUKE OF BOURBON THE CONSTABLE OF FRANCE RAMBURES, French Lord GRANDPRE, " " GOVERNOR OF HARFLEUR MONTJOY, a French herald AMBASSADORS to the King of England ISABEL, Queen of France KATHERINE, daughter to Charles and Isabel ALICE, a lady attending her HOSTESS of the Boar's Head, Eastcheap; formerly Mrs Suppose within the girdle of these walls Are now confin'd two mighty monarchies, Whose high upreared and abutting fronts The perilous narrow ocean parts asunder that self bill is urg'd Which in th' eleventh year of the last king's reign Was like, and had indeed against us pass'd But that the scambling and unquiet time Did push it out of farther question 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 Then go we in, to know his embassy; Which I could with a ready guess declare, Before the Frenchman speak a word of it There is no bar To make against your Highness' claim to France But this, which they produce from Pharamond '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 Yet their own authors faithfully affirm That the land Salique is in Germany, Between the floods of Sala and of Elbe; Where Charles the Great, having subdu'd the Saxons, There left behind and settled certain French; Who, holding in disdain the German women For some dishonest manners of their life, Establish'd then this law 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 Hugh Capet also, who usurp'd the crown Of Charles the Duke of Lorraine, sole heir male Of the true line and stock of Charles the Great, To find his title with some shows of truth- Though in pure truth it was corrupt and naught- Convey'd himself as th' heir to th' Lady Lingare, Daughter to Charlemain, who was the son To Lewis the Emperor, and Lewis the son Of Charles the Great Also King Lewis the Tenth, Who was sole heir to the usurper Capet, Could not keep quiet in his conscience, Wearing the crown of France, till satisfied That fair Queen Isabel, his grandmother, Was lineal of the Lady Ermengare, Daughter to Charles the foresaid Duke of Lorraine; By the which marriage the line of Charles the Great Was re-united to the Crown of France The sin upon my head, dread sovereign! For in the book of Numbers is it writ, When the man dies, let the inheritance Descend unto the daughter Your brother kings and monarchs of the earth Do all expect that you should rouse yourself, As did the former lions of your blood 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 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 Therefore doth heaven divide The state of man in divers functions, Setting endeavour in continual motion; To which is fixed as an aim or but Obedience; for so work the honey bees, Creatures that by a rule in nature teach The act of order to a peopled kingdom They have a king, and officers of sorts, Where some like magistrates correct at home; Others like merchants venture trade abroad; Others like soldiers, armed in their stings, Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds, Which pillage they with merry march bring home To the tent-royal of their emperor; Who, busied in his majesty, surveys The singing masons building roofs of gold, The civil citizens kneading up the honey, The poor mechanic porters crowding in Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate, The sad-ey'd justice, with his surly hum, Delivering o'er to executors pale The lazy yawning drone 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 Exeunt some attendants Now are we well resolv'd; and, by God's help And yours, the noble sinews of our power, France being ours, we'll bend it to our awe, Or break it all to pieces; or there we'll sit, Ruling in large and ample empery O'er France and all her almost kingly dukedoms, Or lay these bones in an unworthy urn, Tombless, with no remembrance over them Enter AMBASSADORS of France Now are we well prepar'd to know the pleasure Of our fair cousin Dauphin; for we hear Your greeting is from him, not from the King We are no tyrant, but a Christian king, Unto whose grace our passion is as subject As are our wretches fett'red in our prisons; Therefore with frank and with uncurbed plainness Tell us the Dauphin's mind Your Highness, lately sending into France, Did claim some certain dukedoms in the right Of your great predecessor, King Edward the Third In answer of which claim, the Prince our master Says that you savour too much of your youth, And bids you be advis'd there's nought in France That can be with a nimble galliard won; You cannot revel into dukedoms there When we have match'd our rackets to these balls, We will in France, by God's grace, play a set Shall strike his father's crown into the hazard And we understand him well, How he comes o'er us with our wilder days, Not measuring what use we made of them 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 But tell the Dauphin I will keep my state, Be like a king, and show my sail of greatness, When I do rouse me in my throne of France; For that I have laid by my majesty And plodded like a man for working-days; But I will rise there with so full a glory That I will dazzle all the eyes of France, Yea, strike the Dauphin blind to look on us And tell the pleasant Prince this mock of his Hath turn'd his balls to gun-stones, and his soul Shall stand sore charged for the wasteful vengeance That shall fly with them; for many a thousand widows Shall this his mock mock of their dear husbands; Mock mothers from their sons, mock castles down; And some are yet ungotten and unborn That shall have cause to curse the Dauphin's scorn Therefore let our proportions for these wars Be soon collected, and all things thought upon That may with reasonable swiftness ad More feathers to our wings; for, God before, We'll chide this Dauphin at his father's door The French, advis'd by good intelligence Of this most dreadful preparation, Shake in their fear and with pale policy Seek to divert the English purposes For my part, I care not; I say little, but when time shall serve, there shall be smiles- but that shall be as it may 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 I will bestow a breakfast to make you friends; and we'll be all three sworn brothers to France 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 braggart vile and damned furious wight! The grave doth gape and doting death is near; Therefore exhale I have, and I will hold, the quondam Quickly For the only she; and- pauca, there's enough Corporal Nym, an thou wilt be friends, be friends; an thou wilt not, why then be enemies with me too A noble shalt thou have, and present pay; And liquor likewise will I give to thee, And friendship shall combine, and brotherhood There's not, I think, a subject That sits in heart-grief and uneasines Under the sweet shade of your government 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 Why, how now, gentlemen? What see you in those papers, that you lose So much complexion? Look ye how they change! Their cheeks are paper You must not dare, for shame, to talk of mercy; For your own reasons turn into your bosoms As dogs upon their masters, worrying you Treason and murder ever kept together, As two yoke-devils sworn to either's purpose, Working so grossly in a natural cause That admiration did not whoop at them; But thou, 'gainst all proportion, didst bring in Wonder to wait on treason and on murder; And whatsoever cunning fiend it was That wrought upon thee so preposterously Hath got the voice in hell for excellence; And other devils that suggest by treasons Do botch and bungle up damnation With patches, colours, and with forms, being fetch'd From glist'ring semblances of piety; But he that temper'd thee bade thee stand up, Gave thee no instance why thou shouldst do treason, Unless to dub thee with the name of traitor I will weep for thee; For this revolt of thine, methinks, is like Another fall of man Our purposes God justly hath discover'd, And I repent my fault more than my death; Which I beseech your Highness to forgive, Although my body pay the price of it We doubt not of a fair and lucky war, Since God so graciously hath brought to light This dangerous treason, lurking in our way To hinder our beginnings; we doubt not now But every rub is smoothed on our way Now I, to comfort him, bid him 'a should not think of God; I hop'd there was no need to trouble himself with any such thoughts yet '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 Yoke-fellows in arms, Let us to France, like horse-leeches, my boys, To suck, to suck, the very blood to suck Therefore the Dukes of Berri and of Britaine, Of Brabant and of Orleans, shall make forth, And you, Prince Dauphin, with all swift dispatch, To line and new repair our towns of war With men of courage and with means defendant; For England his approaches makes as fierce As waters to the sucking of a gulf This is a stern Of that victorious stock; and let us fear The native mightiness and fate of him Turn head and stop pursuit; for coward dogs Most spend their mouths when what they seem to threaten Runs far before them Good my sovereign, Take up the English short, and let them know Of what a monarchy you are the head He wills you, in the name of God Almighty, That you divest yourself, and lay apart The borrowed glories that by gift of heaven, By law of nature and of nations, 'longs To him and to his heirs- namely, the crown, And all wide-stretched honours that pertain, By custom and the ordinance of times, Unto the crown of France 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 Bloody constraint; for if you hide the crown Even in your hearts, there will he rake for it For us, we will consider of this further; To-morrow shall you bear our full intent Back to our brother of England Scorn and defiance, slight regard, contempt, And anything that may not misbecome The mighty sender, doth he prize you at To that end, As matching to his youth and vanity, I did present him with the Paris balls 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 Suppose that you have seen The well-appointed King at Hampton pier Embark his royalty; and his brave fleet With silken streamers the young Phorbus fanning Play with your fancies; and in them behold Upon the hempen tackle ship-boys climbing; Hear the shrill whistle which doth order give To sounds confus'd; behold the threaden sails, Borne with th' invisible and creeping wind, Draw the huge bottoms through the furrowed sea, Breasting the lofty surge 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 Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more; Or close the wall up with our English dead In peace there's nothing so becomes a man As modest stillness and humility; But when the blast of war blows in our ears, Then imitate the action of the tiger Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood, Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage; Then lend the eye a terrible aspect; Let it pry through the portage of the head Like the brass cannon 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 Dishonour not your mothers; now attest That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you If wishes would prevail with me, My purpose should not fail with me, But thither would I hie For Bardolph, he is white-liver'd and red-fac'd; by the means whereof 'a faces it out, but fights not I must leave them and seek some better service; their villainy goes against my weak stomach, and therefore I must cast it up To the mines! Tell you the Duke it is not so good to come to the mines; for, look you, the mines is not according to the disciplines of the war; the concavities of it is not sufficient By Cheshu, he will maintain his argument as well as any military man in the world, in the disciplines of the pristine wars of the Romans By my hand, I swear, and my father's soul, the work ish ill done; it ish give over; I would have blowed up the town, so Chrish save me, la, in an hour Captain Macmorris, I beseech you now, will you voutsafe me, look you, a few disputations with you, as partly touching or concerning the disciplines of the war, the Roman wars, in the way of argument, look you, and friendly communication; partly to satisfy my opinion, and partly for the satisfaction, look you, of my mind, as touching the direction of the military discipline, that is the point And I'll pay't as valorously as I may, that sall I suerly do, that is the breff and the long 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 [Exit GOVERNOR] Come, uncle Exeter, Go you and enter Harfleur; there remain, And fortify it strongly 'gainst the French; Use mercy to them all Up, Princes, and, with spirit of honour edged More sharper than your swords, hie to the field Bar Harry England, that sweeps through our land With pennons painted in the blood of Harfleur He is not- God be praised and blessed!- any hurt in the world, but keeps the bridge most valiantly, with excellent discipline 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 Marry, th' athversary was have possession of the pridge; but he is enforced to retire, and the Duke of Exeter is master of the pridge; I can tell your Majesty the Duke is a prave man And we give express charge that in our marches through the country there be nothing compell'd from the villages, nothing taken but paid for, none of the French upbraided or abused in disdainful language; for when lenity and cruelty play for a kingdom the gentler gamester is the soonest winner March to the bridge, it now draws toward night; Beyond the river we'll encamp ourselves, And on to-morrow bid them march away Yet do I not use my horse for my mistress, or any such proverb so little kin to the purpose I will not say so, for fear I should be fac'd out of my way; but I would it were morning, for I would fain be about the ears of the English That they lack; for if their heads had any intellectual armour, they could never wear such heavy head-pieces That island of England breeds very valiant creatures; their mastiffs are of unmatchable courage 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 Now entertain conjecture of a time When creeping murmur and the poring dark Fills the wide vessel of the universe From camp to camp, through the foul womb of night, The hum of either army stilly sounds, That the fix'd sentinels almost receive The secret whispers of each other's watch 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 Upon his royal face there is no note How dread an army hath enrounded him; Nor doth he dedicate one jot of colour Unto the weary and all-watched night; But freshly looks, and over-bears attaint With cheerful semblance and sweet majesty; That every wretch, pining and pale before, Beholding him, plucks comfort from his looks; A largess universal, like the sun, His liberal eye doth give to every one, Thawing cold fear, that mean and gentle all Behold, as may unworthiness define, A little touch of Harry in the night And so our scene must to the battle fly; Where- O for pity!- we shall much disgrace With four or five most vile and ragged foils, Right ill-dispos'd in brawl ridiculous, The name of Agincourt Gloucester, 'tis true that we are in great danger; The greater therefore should our courage be Brothers both, Commend me to the princes in our camp; Do my good morrow to them, and anon Desire them all to my pavilion 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 the violet smells to him as it doth to me; the element shows to him as it doth to me; all his senses have but human conditions; his ceremonies laid by, in his nakedness he appears but a man; and though his affections are higher mounted than ours, yet, when they stoop, they stoop with the like wing Ay, or more than we should seek after; for we know enough if we know we are the King's subjects But if the cause be not good, the King himself hath a heavy reckoning to make when all those legs and arms and heads, chopp'd off in a battle, shall join together at the latter day and cry all 'We died at such a place'- some swearing, some crying for a surgeon, some upon their wives left poor behind them, some upon the debts they owe, some upon their children rawly left So, if a son that is by his father sent about merchandise do sinfully miscarry upon the sea, the imputation of his wickedness, by your rule, should be imposed upon his father that sent him; or if a servant, under his master's command transporting a sum of money, be assailed by robbers and die in many irreconcil'd iniquities, you may call the business of the master the author of the servant's damnation war is His beadle, war is His vengeance; so that here men are punish'd for before-breach of the King's laws in now the King's quarrel Where they feared the death they have borne life away; and where they would be safe they perish Then if they die unprovided, no more is the King guilty of their damnation than he was before guilty of those impieties for the which they are now visited Therefore should every soldier in the wars do as every sick man in his bed- wash every mote out of his conscience; and dying so, death is to him advantage; or not dying, the time was blessedly lost wherein such preparation was gained; and in him that escapes it were not sin to think that, making God so free an offer, He let him outlive that day to see His greatness, and to teach others how they should prepare 'Tis certain, every man that dies ill, the ill upon his own head- the King is not to answer for it 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 You pay him then! That's a perilous shot out of an elder-gun, that a poor and a private displeasure can do against a monarch! You may as well go about to turn the sun to ice with fanning in his face with a peacock's feather Your reproof is something too round; I should be angry with you, if the time were convenient This will I also wear in my cap; if ever thou come to me and say, after to-morrow, 'This is my glove,' by this hand I will take thee a box on the ear O hard condition, Twin-born with greatness, subject to the breath Of every fool, whose sense no more can feel But his own wringing! What infinite heart's ease Must kings neglect that private men enjoy! And what have kings that privates have not too, Save ceremony- save general ceremony? And what art thou, thou idol Ceremony? What kind of god art thou, that suffer'st more Of mortal griefs than do thy worshippers? What are thy rents? What are thy comings-in? O Ceremony, show me but thy worth! What is thy soul of adoration? Art thou aught else but place, degree, and form, Creating awe and fear in other men? Wherein thou art less happy being fear'd Than they in fearing 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 The slave, a member of the country's peace, Enjoys it; but in gross brain little wots What watch the king keeps to maintain the peace Whose hours the peasant best advantages 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 The horsemen sit like fixed candlesticks With torch-staves in their hand; and their poor jades Lob down their heads, dropping the hides and hips, The gum down-roping from their pale-dead eyes, And in their pale dull mouths the gimmal'd bit Lies foul with chaw'd grass, still and motionless; And their executors, the knavish crows, Fly o'er them, all impatient for their hour Fight valiantly to-day; And yet I do thee wrong to mind thee of it, For thou art fram'd of the firm truth of valour 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 God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour As one man more methinks would share from me For the best hope I have 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 Then shall our names, Familiar in his mouth as household words- Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter, Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester- Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb'red Good God! why should they mock poor fellows thus? The man that once did sell the lion's skin While the beast liv'd was kill'd with hunting him And those that leave their valiant bones in France, Dying like men, though buried in your dunghills, They shall be fam'd; for there the sun shall greet them And draw their honours reeking up to heaven, Leaving their earthly parts to choke your clime, The smell whereof shall breed a plague in France 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 Herald, save thou thy labour; Come thou no more for ransom, gentle herald; They shall have none, I swear, but these my joints; Which if they have, as I will leave 'em them, Shall yield them little, tell the Constable Master Fer! I'll fer him, and firk him, and ferret him- discuss the same in French unto him Exit FRENCH SOLDIER I did never know so full a voice issue from so empty a heart; but the saying is true- the empty vessel makes the greatest sound Well have we done, thrice-valiant countrymen; But all's not done- yet keep the French the field Lives he, good uncle? Thrice within this hour I saw him down; thrice up again, and fighting; From helmet to the spur all blood he was In which array, brave soldier, doth he lie Larding the plain; and by his bloody side, Yoke-fellow to his honour-owing wounds, The noble Earl of Suffolk also lies I blame you not; For, hearing this, I must perforce compound With mistful eyes, or they will issue too [Alarum] But hark! what new alarum is this same? The French have reinforc'd their scatter'd men Why, I pray you, is not 'pig' great? The pig, or great, or the mighty, or the huge, or the magnanimous, are all one reckonings, save the phrase is a little variations I tell you, Captain, if you look in the maps of the 'orld, I warrant you sall find, in the comparisons between Macedon and Monmouth, that the situations, look you, is both alike 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 If you mark Alexander's life well, Harry of Monmouth's life is come after it indifferent well; for there is figures in all things Take a trumpet, herald, Ride thou unto the horsemen on yond hill; If they will fight with us, bid them come down Or void the field; they do offend our sight No, great King; I come to thee for charitable licence, That we may wander o'er this bloody field To book our dead, and then to bury them; To sort our nobles from our common men; For many of our princes- woe the while!- Lie drown'd and soak'd in mercenary blood; So do our vulgar drench their peasant limbs In blood of princes; and their wounded steeds Fret fetlock deep in gore, and with wild rage Yerk out their armed heels at their dead masters, Killing them twice 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 By Jeshu, I am your Majesty's countryman, care not who know it; I will confess it to all the 'orld 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 My liege, here is a villain and a traitor, that, look your Grace, has struck the glove which your Majesty is take out of the helmet of Alencon An please your Majesty, let his neck answer for it, if there is any martial law in the world So swift a pace hath thought that even now You may imagine him upon Blackheath; Where that his lords desire him to have borne His bruised helmet and his bended sword Before him through the city But now behold In the quick forge and working-house of thought, How London doth pour out her citizens! The mayor and all his brethren in best sort- Like to the senators of th' antique Rome, With the plebeians swarming at their heels- Go forth and fetch their conqu'ring Caesar in; As, by a lower but loving likelihood, Were now the General of our gracious Empress- As in good time he may- from Ireland coming, Bringing rebellion broached on his sword, How many would the peaceful city quit To welcome him! Much more, and much more cause, Did they this Harry There must we bring him; and myself have play'd The interim, by rememb'ring you 'tis past 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 Ha! art thou bedlam? Dost thou thirst, base Troyan, To have me fold up Parca's fatal web? Hence! I am qualmish at the smell of leek I will desire you to live in the meantime, and eat your victuals; come, there is sauce for it Eat, I pray you; will you have some more sauce to your leek? There is not enough leek to swear by Yes, verily and in truth, you shall take it; or I have another leek in my pocket which you shall eat 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 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 Yet leave our cousin Katherine here with us; She is our capital demand, compris'd Within the fore-rank of our articles Fair Katherine, and most fair, Will you vouchsafe to teach a soldier terms Such as will enter at a lady's ear, And plead his love-suit to her gentle heart? KATHERINE If thou canst love me for this, take me; if not, to say to thee that I shall die is true- but for thy love, by the Lord, no; yet I love thee too And while thou liv'st, dear Kate, take a fellow of plain and uncoined constancy; for he perforce must do thee right, because he hath not the gift to woo in other places; for these fellows of infinite tongue, that can rhyme themselves into ladies' favours, they do always reason themselves out again A good leg will fall; a straight back will stoop; a black beard will turn white; a curl'd pate will grow bald; a fair face will wither; a full eye will wax hollow But, good Kate, mock me mercifully; the rather, gentle Princess, because I love thee cruelly Shall not thou and I, between Saint Denis and Saint George, compound a boy, half French, half English, that shall go to Constantinople and take the Turk by the beard? Shall we not? What say'st thou, my fair flower-de-luce? KATHERINE How answer you, la plus belle Katherine du monde, mon tres cher et divin deesse? KATHERINE 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 Now beshrew my father's ambition! He was thinking of civil wars when he got me; therefore was I created with a stubborn outside, with an aspect of iron, that when I come to woo ladies I fright them Come, your answer in broken music- for thy voice is music and thy English broken; therefore, Queen of all, Katherine, break thy mind to me in broken English, wilt thou have me? KATHERINE 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 am content, so the maiden cities you talk of may wait on her; so the maid that stood in the way for my wish shall show me the way to my will I pray you, then, in love and dear alliance, Let that one article rank with the rest; And thereupon give me your daughter God, the best maker of all marriages, Combine your hearts in one, your realms in one! As man and wife, being two, are one in love, So be there 'twixt your kingdoms such a spousal That never may ill office or fell jealousy, Which troubles oft the bed of blessed marriage, Thrust in between the paction of these kingdoms, To make divorce of their incorporate league; That English may as French, French Englishmen, Receive each other 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 Thus far, with rough and all-unable pen, Our bending author hath pursu'd the story, In little room confining mighty men, Mangling by starts the full course of their glory Virtue he had, deserving to command; His brandish'd sword did blind men with his beams; His arms spread wider than a dragon's wings; His sparkling eyes, replete with wrathful fire, More dazzled and drove back his enemies Than mid-day sun fierce bent against their faces The battles of the Lord of Hosts he fought; The Church's prayers made him so prosperous 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 Prosper this realm, keep it from civil broils, Combat with adverse planets in the heavens Is Paris lost? Is Rouen yielded up? If Henry were recall'd to life again, These news would cause him once more yield the ghost Were our tears wanting to this funeral, These tidings would call forth their flowing tides Away with these disgraceful wailing robes! Wounds will I lend the French instead of eyes, To weep their intermissive miseries The Dauphin Charles is crowned king in Rheims; The Bastard of Orleans with him is join'd; Reignier, Duke of Anjou, doth take his part; The Duke of Alencon flieth to his side 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 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 Hundreds he sent to hell, and none durst stand him; Here, there, and everywhere, enrag'd he slew The French exclaim'd the devil was in arms; All the whole army stood agaz'd on him His soldiers, spying his undaunted spirit, 'A Talbot! a Talbot!' cried out amain, And rush'd into the bowels of the battle Here had the conquest fully been seal'd up If Sir John Fastolfe had not play'd the coward 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 A base Walloon, to win the Dauphin's grace, Thrust Talbot with a spear into the back; Whom all France, with their chief assembled strength, Durst not presume to look once in the face O no, he lives, but is took prisoner, And Lord Scales with him, and Lord Hungerford; Most of the rest slaughter'd or took likewise I'll hale the Dauphin headlong from his throne; His crown shall be the ransom of my friend; Four of their lords I'll change for one of ours So you had need; for Orleans is besieg'd; The English army is grown weak and faint; The Earl of Salisbury craveth supply And hardly keeps his men from mutiny, Since they, so few, watch such a multitude 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 Mars his true moving, even as in the heavens So in the earth, to this day is not known Either they must be dieted like mules And have their provender tied to their mouths, Or piteous they will look, like drowned mice Who ever saw the like? What men have I! Dogs! cowards! dastards! I would ne'er have fled But that they left me midst my enemies Froissart, a countryman of ours, records England all Olivers and Rowlands bred During the time Edward the Third did reign Let's leave this town; for they are hare-brain'd slaves, And hunger will enforce them to be more eager Of old I know them; rather with their teeth The walls they'll tear down than forsake the siege I think by some odd gimmers or device Their arms are set, like clocks, still to strike on; Else ne'er could they hold out so as they do 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 Reignier, is 't thou that thinkest to beguile me? Where is the Dauphin? Come, come from behind; I know thee well, though never seen before Only this proof I'll of thy valour make In single combat thou shalt buckle with me; And if thou vanquishest, thy words are true; Otherwise I renounce all confidence He may mean more than we poor men do know; These women are shrewd tempters with their tongues Helen, the mother of great Constantine, Nor yet Saint Philip's daughters were like thee Woman, do what thou canst to save our honours; Drive them from Orleans, and be immortaliz'd I am come to survey the Tower this day; Since Henry's death, I fear, there is conveyance Where be these warders that they wait not here? Open the gates; 'tis Gloucester that calls Who willed you, or whose will stands but mine? There's none Protector of the realm but I Lieutenant, is it you whose voice I hear? Open the gates; here's Gloucester that would enter [Within] Have patience, noble Duke, I may not open; The Cardinal of Winchester forbids Faint-hearted Woodville, prizest him fore me? Arrogant Winchester, that haughty prelate Whom Henry, our late sovereign, ne'er could brook! Thou art no friend to God or to the King Open the gates unto the Lord Protector, Or we'll burst them open, if that you come not quickly 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 Winchester goose! I cry 'A rope, a rope!' Now beat them hence; why do you let them stay? Thee I'll chase hence, thou wolf in sheep's array Here's Beaufort, that regards nor God nor King, Hath here distrain'd the Tower to his use 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 Sirrah, thou know'st how Orleans is besieg'd, And how the English have the suburbs won The Prince's espials have informed me How the English, in the suburbs close intrench'd, Wont, through a secret grate of iron bars In yonder tower, to overpeer the city, And thence discover how with most advantage They may vex us with shot or with assault To intercept this inconvenience, A piece of ordnance 'gainst it I have plac'd; And even these three days have I watch'd If I could see them Talbot, my life, my joy, again return'd! How wert thou handled being prisoner? Or by what means got'st thou to be releas'd? Discourse, I prithee, on this turret's top But with a baser man of arms by far Once, in contempt, they would have barter'd me; Which I disdaining scorn'd, and craved death Rather than I would be so vile esteem'd With scoffs, and scorns, and contumelious taunts, In open market-place produc'd they me To be a public spectacle to all; Here, said they, is the terror of the French, The scarecrow that affrights our children so In iron walls they deem'd me not secure; So great fear of my name 'mongst them was spread That they suppos'd I could rend bars of steel And spurn in pieces posts of adamant; Wherefore a guard of chosen shot I had That walk'd about me every minute-while; And if I did but stir out of my bed, Ready they were to shoot me to the heart How far'st thou, mirror of all martial men? One of thy eyes and thy cheek's side struck off! Accursed tower! accursed fatal hand That hath contriv'd this woeful tragedy! In thirteen battles Salisbury o'ercame; Henry the Fifth he first train'd to the wars; Whilst any trump did sound or drum struck up, His sword did ne'er leave striking in the field Yet liv'st thou, Salisbury? Though thy speech doth fail, One eye thou hast to look to heaven for grace; The sun with one eye vieweth all the world Salisbury, cheer thy spirit with this comfort, Thou shalt not die whiles He beckons with his hand and smiles on me, As who should say 'When I am dead and gone, Remember to avenge me on the French.' Plantagenet, I will; and like thee, Nero, Play on the lute, beholding the towns burn My lord, my lord, the French have gather'd head The Dauphin, with one Joan la Pucelle join'd, A holy prophetess new risen up, Is come with a great power to raise the siege Convey me Salisbury into his tent, And then we'll try what these dastard Frenchmen dare Where is my strength, my valour, and my force? Our English troops retire, I cannot stay them; A woman clad in armour chaseth them 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 Why ring not out the bells aloud throughout the town? Dauphin, command the citizens make bonfires And feast and banquet in the open streets To celebrate the joy that God hath given us All France will be replete with mirth and joy When they shall hear how we have play'd the men 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 If any noise or soldier you perceive Near to the walls, by some apparent sign Let us have knowledge at the court of guard God is our fortress, in whose conquering name Let us resolve to scale their flinty bulwarks Not all together; better far, I guess, That we do make our entrance several ways; That if it chance the one of us do fail The other yet may rise against their force And, for myself, most part of all this night, Within her quarter and mine own precinct I was employ'd in passing to and fro About relieving of the sentinels Question, my lords, no further of the case, How or which way; 'tis sure they found some place But weakly guarded, where the breach was made 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 The cry of Talbot serves me for a sword; For I have loaden me with many spoils, Using no other weapon but his name Bring forth the body of old Salisbury And here advance it in the market-place, The middle centre of this cursed town 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 'Tis thought, Lord Talbot, when the fight began, Rous'd on the sudden from their drowsy beds, They did amongst the troops of armed men Leap o'er the walls for refuge in the field The virtuous lady, Countess of Auvergne, With modesty admiring thy renown, By me entreats, great lord, thou wouldst vouchsafe To visit her poor castle where she lies, That she may boast she hath beheld the man Whose glory fills the world with loud report No, truly; 'tis more than manners will; And I have heard it said unbidden guests Are often welcomest when they are gone Porter, remember what I gave in charge; And when you have done so, bring the keys to me Fain would mine eyes be witness with mine ears To give their censure of these rare reports Madam, I have been bold to trouble you; But since your ladyship is not at leisure, I'll sort some other time to visit you 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 Let my presumption not provoke thy wrath, For I am sorry that with reverence I did not entertain thee as thou art Be not dismay'd, fair lady; nor misconster The mind of Talbot as you did mistake The outward composition of his body Nor other satisfaction do I crave But only, with your patience, that we may Taste of your wine and see what cates you have, For soldiers' stomachs always serve them well 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 Stay, lords and gentlemen, and pluck no more Till you conclude that he upon whose side The fewest roses are cropp'd from the tree Shall yield the other in the right opinion Then, for the truth and plainness of the case, I pluck this pale and maiden blossom here, Giving my verdict on the white rose side 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 Meantime your cheeks do counterfeit our roses; For pale they look with fear, as witnessing The truth on our side 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 Ay, thou shalt find us ready for thee still; And know us by these colours for thy foes For these my friends in spite of thee shall wear And, by my soul, this pale and angry rose, As cognizance of my blood-drinking hate, Will I for ever, and my faction, wear, Until it wither with me to my grave, Or flourish to the height of my degree Even like a man new haled from the rack, So fare my limbs with long imprisonment; And these grey locks, the pursuivants of death, Nestor-like aged in an age of care, Argue the end of Edmund Mortimer These eyes, like lamps whose wasting oil is spent, Wax dim, as drawing to their exigent; Weak shoulders, overborne with burdening grief, And pithless arms, like to a withered vine That droops his sapless branches to the ground Yet are these feet, whose strengthless stay is numb, Unable to support this lump of clay, Swift-winged with desire to get a grave, As witting I no other comfort have First, lean thine aged back against mine arm; And, in that ease, I'll tell thee my disease This day, in argument upon a case, Some words there grew 'twixt Somerset and me; Among which terms he us'd his lavish tongue And did upbraid me with my father's death; Which obloquy set bars before my tongue, Else with the like I had requited him Therefore, good uncle, for my father's sake, In honour of a true Plantagenet, And for alliance sake, declare the cause My father, Earl of Cambridge, lost his head 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 as in this haughty great attempt They laboured to plant the rightful heir, I lost my liberty, and they their lives Enter the KING, EXETER, GLOUCESTER, WARWICK, SOMERSET, and SUFFOLK; the BISHOP OF WINCHESTER, RICHARD PLANTAGENET, and others Think not, although in writing I preferr'd The manner of thy vile outrageous crimes, That therefore I have forg'd, or am not able Verbatim to rehearse the method of my pen If I were covetous, ambitious, or perverse, As he will have me, how am I so poor? Or how haps it I seek not to advance Or raise myself, but keep my wonted calling? And for dissension, who preferreth peace More than I do, except I be provok'd? No, my good lords, it is not that offends; It is not that that incens'd hath incens'd the Duke 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 O, what a scandal is it to our crown That two such noble peers as ye should jar! Believe me, lords, my tender years can tell Civil dissension is a viperous worm That gnaws the bowels of the commonwealth O, my good lords, and virtuous Henry, Pity the city of London, pity us! The Bishop and the Duke of Gloucester's men, Forbidden late to carry any weapon, Have fill'd their pockets full of pebble stones And, banding themselves in contrary parts, Do pelt so fast at one another's pate That many have their giddy brains knock'd out We charge you, on allegiance to ourself, To hold your slaught'ring hands and keep the peace Yield, my Lord Protector; yield, Winchester; Except you mean with obstinate repulse To slay your sovereign and destroy the realm You see what mischief, and what murder too, Hath been enacted through your enmity; Then be at peace, except ye thirst for blood Stoop then and set your knee against my foot; And in reguerdon of that duty done I girt thee with the valiant sword of York Take heed, be wary how you place your words; Talk like the vulgar sort of market-men That come to gather money for their corn If we have entrance, as I hope we shall, And that we find the slothful watch but weak, I'll by a sign give notice to our friends, That Charles the Dauphin may encounter them Our sacks shall be a mean to sack the city, And we be lords and rulers over Rouen; Therefore we'll knock Behold, this is the happy wedding torch That joineth Rouen unto her countrymen, But burning fatal to the Talbotites 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 PUCELLE, that witch, that damned sorceress, Hath wrought this hellish mischief unawares, That hardly we escap'd the pride of France I trust ere long to choke thee with thine own, And make thee curse the harvest of that corn And there will we be too, ere it be long, Or else reproach be Talbot's greatest fame! Vow, Burgundy, by honour of thy house, Prick'd on by public wrongs sustain'd in France, Either to get the town again or die; And I, as sure as English Henry lives And as his father here was conqueror, As sure as in this late betrayed town Great Coeur-de-lion's heart was buried So sure I swear to get the town or die 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 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 Now will we take some order in the town, Placing therein some expert officers; And then depart to Paris to the King, For there young Henry with his nobles lie A braver soldier never couched lance, A gentler heart did never sway in court; But kings and mightiest potentates must die, For that's the end of human misery 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 [Drum sounds afar off] Hark! by the sound of drum you may perceive Their powers are marching unto Paris-ward 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 O, turn thy edged sword another way; Strike those that hurt, and hurt not those that help! One drop of blood drawn from thy country's bosom Should grieve thee more than streams of foreign gore 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 My forces and my power of men are yours; So, farewell, Talbot; I'll no longer trust thee The palace Enter the KING, GLOUCESTER, WINCHESTER, YORK, SUFFOLK, SOMERSET, WARWICK, EXETER, VERNON, BASSET, and others Yes, sir; as well as you dare patronage The envious barking of your saucy tongue Against my lord the Duke of Somerset But I'll unto his Majesty and crave I may have liberty to venge this wrong; When thou shalt see I'll meet thee to thy cost 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 Be packing, therefore, thou that wast a knight; Henceforth we banish thee on pain of death What is that wrong whereof you both complain? First let me know, and then I'll answer you Crossing the sea from England into France, This fellow here, with envious carping tongue, Upbraided me about the rose I wear, Saying the sanguine colour of the leaves Did represent my master's blushing cheeks When stubbornly he did repugn the truth About a certain question in the law Argu'd betwixt the Duke of York and him; With other vile and ignominious terms In confutation of which rude reproach And in defence of my lord's worthiness, I crave the benefit of law of arms And that is my petition, noble lord; For though he seem with forged quaint conceit To set a gloss upon his bold intent, Yet know, my lord, I was provok'd by him, And he first took exceptions at this badge, Pronouncing that the paleness of this flower Bewray'd the faintness of my master's heart Your private grudge, my Lord of York, will out, Though ne'er so cunningly you smother it 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 As well they may upbraid me with my crown, Because, forsooth, the King of Scots is crown'd Enter, aloft, the GENERAL OF THE FRENCH, and others English John Talbot, Captains, calls you forth, Servant in arms to Harry King of England; And thus he would open your city gates, Be humble to us, call my sovereignvours And do him homage as obedient subjects, And I'll withdraw me and my bloody power; But if you frown upon this proffer'd peace, You tempt the fury of my three attendants, Lean famine, quartering steel, and climbing fire; Who in a moment even with the earth Shall lay your stately and air braving towers, If you forsake the offer of their love Thou ominous and fearful owl of death, Our nation's terror and their bloody scourge! The period of thy tyranny approacheth 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 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 Then God take mercy on brave Talbot's soul, And on his son, young John, who two hours since I met in travel toward his warlike father This seven years did not Talbot see his son; And now they meet where both their lives are done Alas, what joy shall noble Talbot have To bid his young son welcome to his grave? Away! vexation almost stops my breath, That sund'red friends greet in the hour of death Thus, while the vulture of sedition Feeds in the bosom of such great commanders, Sleeping neglection doth betray to loss The conquest of our scarce cold conqueror, That ever-living man of memory, Henry the Fifth The fraud of England, not the force of France, Hath now entrapp'd the noble minded Talbot Come, go; I will dispatch the horsemen straight; Within six hours they will be at his aid O young John Talbot! I did send for thee To tutor thee in stratagems of war, That Talbot's name might be in thee reviv'd When sapless age and weak unable limbs Should bring thy father to his drooping chair Your loss is great, so your regard should be; My worth unknown, no loss is known in me; Upon my death the French can little boast; In yours they will, in you all hopes are lost Flight cannot stain the honour you have won; But mine it will, that no exploit have done; You fled for vantage, every one will swear; But if I bow, they'll say it was for fear 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 The sword of Orleans hath not made me smart; These words of yours draw life-blood from my heart O, where's young Talbot? Where is valiant John? Triumphant death, smear'd with captivity, Young Talbot's valour makes me smile at thee Poor boy! he smiles, methinks, as who should say, Had Death been French, then Death had died to-day O, no; forbear! For that which we have fled During the life, let us not wrong it dead Herald, conduct me to the Dauphin's tent, To know who hath obtain'd the glory of the day Is Talbot slain-the Frenchmen's only scourge, Your kingdom's terror and black Nemesis? O, were mine eye-bans into bullets turn'd, That I in rage might shoot them at your faces! O that I could but can these dead to life! It were enough to fright the realm of France Give me their bodies, that I may bear them hence And give them burial as beseems their worth 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 Yet call th' ambassadors, and, as you please, So let them have their answers every one What! Is my Lord of Winchester install'd And call'd unto a cardinal's degree? Then I perceive that will be verified Henry the Fifth did sometime prophesy And so, my Lord Protector, see them guarded And safely brought to Dover; where inshipp'd, Commit them to the fortune of the sea 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 [Aside] Now Winchester will not submit, I trow, Or be inferior to the proudest peer Humphrey of Gloucester, thou shalt well perceive That neither in birth or for authority The Bishop will be overborne by thee Command the conquest, Charles, it shall be thine, Let Henry fret and all the world repine Now, ye familiar spirits that are cull'd Out of the powerful regions under earth, Help me this once, that France may get the field [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 [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 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 [Aside] She's beautiful, and therefore to be woo'd; She is a woman, therefore to be won 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] 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 Decrepit miser! base ignoble wretch! I am descended of a gentler blood; Thou art no father nor no friend of mine Or else, when thou didst keep my lambs afield, I wish some ravenous wolf had eaten thee Take her away; for she hath liv'd too long, To fill the world with vicious qualities No, misconceived! Joan of Arc hath been A virgin from her tender infancy, Chaste and immaculate in very thought; Whose maiden blood, thus rigorously effus'd, Will cry for vengeance at the gates of heaven Is all our travail turn'd to this effect? After the slaughter of so many peers, So many captains, gentlemen, and soldiers, That in this quarrel have been overthrown And sold their bodies for their country's benefit, Shall we at last conclude effeminate peace? Have we not lost most part of all the towns, By treason, falsehood, and by treachery, Our great progenitors had conquered? O Warwick, Warwick! I foresee with grief The utter loss of all the realm of France If we conclude a peace, It shall be with such strict and severe covenants As little shall the Frenchmen gain thereby Since, lords of England, it is thus agreed That peaceful truce shall be proclaim'd in France, We come to be informed by yourselves What the conditions of that league must be Speak, Winchester; for boiling choler chokes The hollow passage of my poison'd voice, By sight of these our baleful enemies 'Tis known already that I am possess'd With more than half the Gallian territories, And therein reverenc'd for their lawful king Insulting Charles! Hast thou by secret means Us'd intercession to obtain a league, And now the matter grows to compromise Stand'st thou aloof upon comparison? Either accept the title thou usurp'st, Of benefit proceeding from our king And not of any challenge of desert, Or we will plague thee with incessant wars [To CHARLES] My lord, you do not well in obstinacy To cavil in the course of this contract As thou art knight, never to disobey Nor be rebellious to the crown of England Thou, nor thy nobles, to the crown of England 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 Thus Suffolk hath prevail'd; and thus he goes, As did the youthful Paris once to Greece, With hope to find the like event in love But prosper better than the Troyan did Margaret shall now be Queen, and rule the King; But I will rule both her, the King, and realm Her sight did ravish, but her grace in speech, Her words y-clad with wisdom's majesty, Makes me from wond'ring fall to weeping joys, Such is the fulness of my heart's content 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 Suffolk, the new-made duke that rules the roast, Hath given the duchy of Anjou and Maine Unto the poor King Reignier, whose large style Agrees not with the leanness of his purse '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 Had Henry got an empire by his marriage And all the wealthy kingdoms of the west, There's reason he should be displeas'd at it Oft have I seen the haughty Cardinal- More like a soldier than a man o' th' church, As stout and proud as he were lord of all- Swear like a ruffian and demean himself Unlike the ruler of a commonweal 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 Anjou and Maine are given to the French; Paris is lost; the state of Normandy Stands on a tickle point now they are gone Methinks the realms of England, France, and Ireland, Bear that proportion to my flesh and blood As did the fatal brand Althaea burnt Unto the prince's heart of Calydon A day will come when York shall claim his own; And therefore I will take the Nevils' parts, And make a show of love to proud Duke Humphrey, And when I spy advantage, claim the crown, For that's the golden mark I seek to hit Why droops my lord, like over-ripen'd corn Hanging the head at Ceres' plenteous load? Why doth the great Duke Humphrey knit his brows, As frowning at the favours of the world? Why are thine eyes fix'd to the sullen earth, Gazing on that which seems to dim thy sight? What see'st thou there? King Henry's diadem, Enchas'd with all the honours of the world? If so, gaze on, and grovel on thy face Until thy head be circled with the same What, is't too short? I'll lengthen it with mine; And having both together heav'd it up, We'll both together lift our heads to heaven, And never more abase our sight so low As to vouchsafe one glance unto the ground 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 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 Where are you there, Sir John? Nay, fear not, man, We are alone; here's none but thee and I It is enough; I'll think upon the questions; When from Saint Albans we do make return We'll see these things effected to the full 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 Hume, if you take not heed, you shall go near To call them both a pair of crafty knaves My masters, let's stand close; my Lord Protector will come this way by and by, and then we may deliver our supplications in the quill [Reads] 'To my Lord Protector!' Are your supplications to his lordship? Let me see them [Presenting his petition] Against my master, Thomas Horner, for saying that the Duke of York was rightful heir to the crown 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 Not all these lords do vex me half so much As that proud dame, the Lord Protector's wife 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 Thy sale of offices and towns in France, If they were known, as the suspect is great, Would make thee quickly hop without thy head 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 Please it your Majesty, this is the man That doth accuse his master of high treason; His words were these Alas, my lord, I cannot fight; for God's sake, pity my case! The spite of man prevaileth against me 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 What, madam, are you there? The King and commonweal Are deeply indebted for this piece of pains; My Lord Protector will, I doubt it not, See you well guerdon'd for these good deserts A pretty plot, well chosen to build upon! Now, pray, my lord, let's see the devil's writ What have we here? [Reads] 'The duke yet lives that Henry shall depose; But him outlive, and die a violent death.' Why, this is just 'Aio te, Aeacida, Romanos vincere posse.' Well, to the rest Your Grace shall give me leave, my Lord of York, To be the post, in hope of his reward I prithee, peace, Good Queen, and whet not on these furious peers; For blessed are the peacemakers on earth [Aside to GLOUCESTER] Ay, where thou dar'st not peep; an if thou dar'st, This evening on the east side of the grove Let them be whipp'd through every market town till they come to Berwick, from whence they came Sorrow and grief have vanquish'd all my powers; And, vanquish'd as I am, I yield to the Or to the meanest groom 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 Which now they hold by force, and not by right; For Richard, the first son's heir, being dead, The issue of the next son should have reign'd His eldest sister, Anne, My mother, being heir unto the crown, Married Richard Earl of Cambridge, who was To Edmund Langley, Edward the Third's fifth son, son she was heir To Roger Earl of March, who was the son Of Edmund Mortimer, who married Philippe, Sole daughter unto Lionel Duke of Clarence; So, if the issue of the elder son Succeed before the younger, I am King What plain proceedings is more plain than this? Henry doth claim the crown from John of Gaunt, The fourth son Then, father Salisbury, kneel we together, And in this private plot be we the first That shall salute our rightful sovereign With honour of his birthright to the crown Wink at the Duke of Suffolk's insolence, At Beaufort's pride, at Somerset's ambition, At Buckingham, and all the crew of them, Till they have snar'd the shepherd of the flock, That virtuous prince, the good Duke Humphrey; 'Tis that they seek; and they, in seeking that, Shall find their deaths, if York can prophesy My heart assures me that the Earl of Warwick Shall one day make the Duke of York a king 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 You, madam, for you are more nobly born, Despoiled of your honour in your life, Shall, after three days' open penance done, Live in your country here in banishment With Sir John Stanley in the Isle of Man God and King Henry govern England's realm! Give up your staff, sir, and the King his realm As willingly do I the same resign As ere thy father Henry made it mine; And even as willingly at thy feet I leave it As others would ambitiously receive it Please it your Majesty, This is the day appointed for the combat; And ready are the appellant and defendant, The armourer and his man, to enter the lists, So please your Highness to behold the fight Ay, good my lord; for purposely therefore Left I the court, to see this quarrel tried I never saw a fellow worse bested, Or more afraid to fight, than is the appellant, The servant of his armourer, my lords 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 Sweet Nell, ill can thy noble mind abrook The abject people gazing on thy face, With envious looks, laughing at thy shame, That erst did follow thy proud chariot wheels When thou didst ride in triumph through the streets But be thou mild, and blush not at my shame, Nor stir at nothing till the axe of death Hang over thee, as sure it shortly will 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 Wouldst have me rescue thee from this reproach? Why, yet thy scandal were not wip'd away, But I in danger for the breach of law I summon your Grace to his Majesty's Parliament, Holden at Bury the first of this next month Exit HERALD My Nell, I take my leave- and, master sheriff, Let not her penance exceed the King's commission An't please your Grace, here my commission stays; And Sir John Stanley is appointed now To take her with him to the Isle of Man Can you not see, or will ye not observe The strangeness of his alter'd countenance? With what a majesty he bears himself; How insolent of late he is become, How proud, how peremptory, and unlike himself? We know the time since he was mild and affable, And if we did but glance a far-off look Immediately he was upon his knee, That all the court admir'd him for submission By flattery hath he won the commons' hearts; And when he please to make commotion, 'Tis to be fear'd they all will follow him 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 And did he not, in his protectorship, Levy great sums of money through the realm For soldiers' pay in France, and never sent it? By means whereof the towns each day revolted the care you have of us, To mow down thorns that would annoy our foot, Is worthy praise; but shall I speak my conscience? Our kinsman Gloucester is as innocent From meaning treason to our royal person As is the sucking lamb or harmless dove Ah, what's more dangerous than this fond affiance? Seems he a dove? His feathers are but borrow'd, For he's disposed as the hateful raven Who cannot steal a shape that means deceit? Take heed, my lord; the welfare of us all Hangs on the cutting short that fraudful man 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 Unless it were a bloody murderer, Or foul felonious thief that fleec'd poor passengers, I never gave them condign punishment I do arrest you in His Highness' name, And here commit you to my Lord Cardinal To keep until your further time of trial But mine is made the prologue to their play; For thousands more that yet suspect no peril Will not conclude their plotted tragedy If those that care to keep your royal person From treason's secret knife and traitor's rage Be thus upbraided, chid, and rated at, And the offender granted scope of speech, 'Twill make them cool in zeal unto your Grace 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 Ay, Margaret; my heart is drown'd with grief, Whose flood begins to flow within mine eyes; My body round engirt with misery- For what's more miserable than discontent? Ah, uncle Humphrey, in thy face I see The map of honour, truth, and loyalty! And yet, good Humphrey, is the hour to come That e'er I prov'd thee false or fear'd thy faith Henry my lord is cold in great affairs, Too full of foolish pity; and Gloucester's show Beguiles him as the mournful crocodile With sorrow snares relenting passengers; Or as the snake, roll'd in a flow'ring bank, With shining checker'd slough, doth sting a child That for the beauty thinks it excellent Believe me, lords, were none more wise than I- And yet herein I judge mine own wit good- This Gloucester should be quickly rid the world To rid us from the fear we have of him 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 But I would have him dead, my Lord of Suffolk, Ere you can take due orders for a priest; Say you consent and censure well the deed, And I'll provide his executioner- I tender so the safety of my liege Great lords, from Ireland am I come amain To signify that rebels there are up And put the Englishmen unto the sword Send succours, lords, and stop the rage betime, Before the wound do grow uncurable; For, being green, there is great hope of help That Somerset be sent as Regent thither; 'Tis meet that lucky ruler be employ'd, Witness the fortune he hath had in France I rather would have lost my life betimes Than bring a burden of dishonour home By staying there so long till all were lost 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 Whiles I in Ireland nourish a mighty band, I will stir up in England some black storm Shall blow ten thousand souls to heaven or hell; And this fell tempest shall not cease to rage Until the golden circuit on my head, Like to the glorious sun's transparent beams, Do calm the fury of this mad-bred flaw And for a minister of my intent I have seduc'd a headstrong Kentishman, John Cade of Ashford, To make commotion, as full well he can, Under the tide of John Mortimer In Ireland have I seen this stubborn Cade Oppose himself against a troop of kerns, And fought so long tiff that his thighs with darts Were almost like a sharp-quill'd porpentine; And in the end being rescu'd, I have seen Him caper upright like a wild Morisco, Shaking the bloody darts as he his bells 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 What, doth my Lord of Suffolk comfort me? Came he right now to sing a raven's note, Whose dismal tune bereft my vital pow'rs; And thinks he that the chirping of a wren, By crying comfort from a hollow breast, Can chase away the first conceived sound? Hide not thy poison with such sug'red words; Lay not thy hands on me; forbear, I say, Their touch affrights me as a serpent's sting Thou baleful messenger, out of my sight! Upon thy eye-balls murderous tyranny Sits in grim majesty to fright the world 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 Is all thy comfort shut in Gloucester's tomb? Why, then Dame Margaret was ne'er thy joy Was I for this nigh wreck'd upon the sea, And twice by awkward wind from England's bank Drove back again unto my native clime? What boded this but well-forewarning wind Did seem to say 'Seek not a scorpion's nest, Nor set no footing on this unkind shore'? What did I then but curs'd the gentle gusts, And he that loos'd them forth their brazen caves; And bid them blow towards England's blessed shore, Or turn our stern upon a dreadful rock? Yet Aeolus would not be a murderer, But left that hateful office unto thee 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 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 Fain would I go to chafe his paly lips With twenty thousand kisses and to drain Upon his face an ocean of salt tears To tell my love unto his dumb deaf trunk; And with my fingers feel his hand un-feeling; But all in vain are these mean obsequies; And to survey his dead and earthy image, What were it but to make my sorrow greater? Bed put forth with the body As surely as my soul intends to live With that dread King that took our state upon Him To free us from his Father's wrathful curse, I do believe that violent hands were laid Upon the life of this thrice-famed Duke 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 Look, on the sheets his hair, you see, is sticking; His well-proportion'd beard made rough and rugged, Like to the summer's corn by tempest lodged But both of you were vow'd Duke Humphrey's foes; And you, forsooth, had the good Duke to keep 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 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 They say, in care of your most royal person, That if your Highness should intend to sleep And charge that no man should disturb your rest, In pain of your dislike or pain of death, Yet, notwithstanding such a strait edict, Were there a serpent seen with forked tongue That slily glided towards your Majesty, It were but necessary you were wak'd, Lest, being suffer'd in that harmful slumber, The mortal worm might make the sleep eternal And therefore do they cry, though you forbid, That they will guard you, whe'er you will or no, From such fell serpents as false Suffolk is; With whose envenomed and fatal sting Your loving uncle, twenty times his worth, They say, is shamefully bereft of life But all the honour Salisbury hath won Is that he was the lord ambassador Sent from a sort of tinkers to the King And therefore by His Majesty I swear, Whose far unworthy deputy I am, He shall not breathe infection in this air But three days longer, on the pain of death If after three days' space thou here be'st found On any ground that I am ruler of, The world shall not be ransom for thy life My tongue should stumble in mine earnest words, Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten flint, Mine hair be fix'd an end, as one distract; Ay, every joint should seem to curse and ban; And even now my burden'd heart would break, Should I not curse them 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 I will repeal thee or, be well assur'd, Adventure to be banished myself; And banished I am, if but from thee O, go not yet! Even thus two friends condemn'd Embrace, and kiss, and take ten thousand leaves, Loather a hundred times to part than die Exit VAUX Ay me! What is this world! What news are these! But wherefore grieve I at an hour's poor loss, Omitting Suffolk's exile, my soul's treasure? Why only, Suffolk, mourn I not for thee, And with the southern clouds contend in tears- Theirs for the earth's increase, mine for my sorrows? Now get thee hence 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 Let me hear from thee; For whereso'er thou art in this world's globe I'll have an Iris that shall find thee out Comb down his hair; look, look! it stands upright, Like lime-twigs set to catch my winged soul! Give me some drink; and bid the apothecary Bring the strong poison that I bought of him The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day Is crept into the bosom of the sea; And now loud-howling wolves arouse the jades That drag the tragic melancholy night; Who with their drowsy, slow, and flagging wings Clip dead men's graves, and from their misty jaws Breathe foul contagious darkness in the air Therefore bring forth the soldiers of our prize; For, whilst our pinnace anchors in the Downs, Here shall they make their ransom on the sand, Or with their blood stain this discoloured shore Master, this prisoner freely give I thee; And thou that art his mate make boot of this; The other, Walter Whitmore, is thy share 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 This hand of mine hath writ in thy behalf, And therefore shall it charm thy riotous tongue Ay, kennel, puddle, sink, whose filth and dirt Troubles the silver spring where England drinks; Now will I dam up this thy yawning mouth For swallowing the treasure of the realm Thy lips, that kiss'd the Queen, shall sweep the ground; And thou that smil'dst at good Duke Humphrey's death Against the senseless winds shalt grin in vain, Who in contempt shall hiss at thee again; And wedded be thou to the hags of hell For daring to affy a mighty lord Unto the daughter of a worthless king, Having neither subject, wealth, nor diadem By devilish policy art thou grown great, And, like ambitious Sylla, overgorg'd With gobbets of thy mother's bleeding heart 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 this villain here, Being captain of a pinnace, threatens more Than Bargulus, the strong Illyrian pirate 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 If he revenge it not, yet will his friends; So will the Queen, that living held him dear True; and yet it is said 'Labour in thy vocation'; which is as much to say as 'Let the magistrates be labouring men'; and therefore should we be magistrates [Aside] Ay, by my faith, the field is honourable, and there was he born, under a hedge, for his father had never a house but the cage Fly, fly, fly! Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother are hard by, with the King's forces Rebellious hinds, the filth and scum of Kent, Mark'd for the gallows, lay your weapons down; Home to your cottages, forsake this groom; The King is merciful if you revolt As for these silken-coated slaves, I pass not; It is to you, good people, that I speak, O'er whom, in time to come, I hope to reign; For I am rightful heir unto the crown Sir, he made a chimney in my father's house, and the bricks are alive at this day to testify it; therefore deny it not Fellow kings, I tell you that that Lord Say hath gelded the commonwealth and made it an eunuch; and more than that, he can speak French, and therefore he is a traitor Herald, away; and throughout every town Proclaim them traitors that are up with Cade; That those which fly before the battle ends May, even in their wives'and children's sight, Be hang'd up for example at their doors We will not leave one lord, one gentleman; Spare none but such as go in clouted shoon, For they are thrifty honest men and such As would- but that they dare not- take our parts [Putting on SIR HUMPHREY'S brigandine] This monument of the victory will I bear, and the bodies shall be dragged at my horse heels till I do come to London, where we will have the mayor's sword borne before us Oft have I heard that grief softens the mind And makes it fearful and degenerate; Think therefore on revenge and cease to weep I'll send some holy bishop to entreat; For God forbid so many simple souls Should perish by the sword! And I myself, Rather than bloody war shall cut them short, Will parley with Jack Cade their general 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 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 The Lord Mayor craves aid of your honour from the Tower, to defend the city from the rebels Such aid as I can spare you shall command, But I am troubled here with them myself; The rebels have assay'd to win the Tower And now henceforward it shall be treason for any that calls me other than Lord Mortimer [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 What canst thou answer to my Majesty for giving up of Normandy unto Mounsieur Basimecu the Dauphin of France? Be it known unto thee by these presence, even the presence of Lord Mortimer, that I am the besom that must sweep the court clean of such filth as thou art Thou hast appointed justices of peace, to call poor men before them about matters they were not able to answer Marry, thou ought'st not to let thy horse wear a cloak, when honester men than thou go in their hose and doublets Go, take him away, I say, and strike off his head presently, and then break into his son-in-law's house, Sir James Cromer, and strike off his head, and bring them both upon two poles hither 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 But is not this braver? Let them kiss one another, for they lov'd well when they were alive Now part them again, lest they consult about the giving up of some more towns in France 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 Were't not a shame that whilst you live at jar The fearful French, whom you late vanquished, Should make a start o'er seas and vanquish you? Methinks already in this civil broil I see them lording it in London streets, Crying 'Villiago!' unto all they meet 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 Exeunt some of them Follow me, soldiers; we'll devise a mean To reconcile you all unto the King Please it your Grace to be advertised The Duke of York is newly come from Ireland And with a puissant and a mighty power Of gallowglasses and stout kerns Is marching hitherward in proud array, And still proclaimeth, as he comes along, His arms are only to remove from thee The Duke of Somerset, whom he terms a traitor Wherefore, on a brick wall have I climb'd into this garden, to see if I can eat grass or pick a sallet another while, which is not amiss to cool a man's stomach this hot weather 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 Oppose thy steadfast-gazing eyes to mine; See if thou canst outface me with thy looks; Set limb to limb, and thou art far the lesser; Thy hand is but a finger to my fist, Thy leg a stick compared with this truncheon; My foot shall fight with all the strength thou hast, And if mine arm be heaved in the air, Thy grave is digg'd already in the earth Let ten thousand devils come against me, and give me but the ten meals I have lost, and I'd defy them all Wither, garden, and be henceforth a burying place to all that do dwell in this house, because the unconquered soul of Cade is fled 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 Ne'er shall this blood be wiped from thy point, But thou shalt wear it as a herald's coat To emblaze the honour that thy master got From Ireland thus comes York to claim his right And pluck the crown from feeble Henry's head A sceptre shall it have, have I a soul On which I'll toss the flower-de-luce of France Enter BUCKINGHAM [Aside] Whom have we here? Buckingham, to disturb me? The King hath sent him, sure A messenger from Henry, our dread liege, To know the reason of these arms in peace; Or why thou, being a subject as I am, Against thy oath and true allegiance sworn, Should raise so great a power without his leave, Or dare to bring thy force so near the court 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 If one so rude and of so mean condition May pass into the presence of a king, Lo, I present your Grace a traitor's head, The head of Cade, whom I in combat slew 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 Wouldst have me kneel? First let me ask of these, If they can brook I bow a knee to man Exit attendant I know, ere thy will have me go to ward, They'll pawn their swords for my enfranchisement Call hither Clifford; bid him come amain, To say if that the bastard boys of York Shall be the surety for their traitor father O blood-bespotted Neapolitan, Outcast of Naples, England's bloody scourge! The sons of York, thy betters in their birth, Shall be their father's bail; and bane to those That for my surety will refuse the boys! Enter EDWARD and RICHARD PLANTAGENET See where they come Call hither to the stake my two brave bears, That with the very shaking of their chains They may astonish these fell-lurking curs Are these thy bears? We'll bait thy bears to death, And manacle the berard in their chains, If thou dar'st bring them to the baiting-place Why, Warwick, hath thy knee forgot to bow? Old Salisbury, shame to thy silver hair, Thou mad misleader of thy brainsick son! What, wilt thou on thy death-bed play the ruffian And seek for sorrow with thy spectacles? O, where is faith? O, where is loyalty? If it be banish'd from the frosty head, Where shall it find a harbour in the earth? Wilt thou go dig a grave to find out war And shame thine honourable age with blood? Why art thou old, and want'st experience? Or wherefore dost abuse it, if thou hast it? For shame! In duty bend thy knee to me, That bows unto the grave with mickle age 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 I am resolv'd to bear a greater storm Than any thou canst conjure up to-day; And that I'll write upon thy burgonet, Might I but know thee by thy household badge Now, by my father's badge, old Nevil's crest, The rampant bear chain'd to the ragged staff, This day I'll wear aloft my burgonet, As on a mountain-top the cedar shows, That keeps his leaves in spite of any storm, Even to affright thee with the view thereof And from thy burgonet I'll rend thy bear And tread it under foot with all contempt, Despite the berard that protects the bear Proud northern lord, Clifford of Cumberland, WARWICK is hoarse with calling thee to arms The deadly-handed Clifford slew my steed; But match to match I have encount'red him, And made a prey for carrion kites and crows Even of the bonny beast he lov'd so well He that is truly dedicate to war Hath no self-love; nor he that loves himself Hath not essentially, but by circumstance, The name of valour Come, thou new ruin of old Clifford's house; As did Aeneas old Anchises bear, So bear I thee upon my manly shoulders; But then Aeneas bare a living load, Nothing so heavy as these woes of mine So, lie thou there; For underneath an alehouse' paltry sign, The Castle in Saint Albans, Somerset Hath made the wizard famous in his death But that my heart's on future mischief set, I would speak blasphemy ere bid you fly; But fly you must; uncurable discomfit Reigns in the hearts of all our present parts Sound drum and trumpets and to London all; And more such days as these to us befall! Exeunt THE END While we pursu'd the horsemen of the north, He slily stole away and left his men; Whereat the great Lord of Northumberland, Whose warlike ears could never brook retreat, Cheer'd up the drooping army, and himself, Lord Clifford, and Lord Stafford, all abreast, Charg'd our main battle's front, and, breaking in, Were by the swords of common soldiers slain And, brother, here's the Earl of Wiltshire's blood, Whom I encount'red as the battles join'd Victorious Prince of York, Before I see thee seated in that throne Which now the house of Lancaster usurps, I vow by heaven these eyes shall never close 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 Far be the thought of this from Henry's heart, To make a shambles of the parliament house! Cousin of Exeter, frowns, words, and threats, Shall be the war that Henry means to use He is both King and Duke of Lancaster; And that the Lord of Westmoreland shall maintain You forget That we are those which chas'd you from the field, And slew your fathers, and with colours spread March'd through the city to the palace gates Plantagenet, of thee, and these thy sons, Thy kinsmen, and thy friends, I'll have more lives Than drops of blood were in my father's veins Will you we show our title to the crown? If not, our swords shall plead it in the field 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 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 'Tis not thy southern power Of Essex, Norfolk, Suffolk, nor of Kent, Which makes thee thus presumptuous and proud, Can set the Duke up in despite of me Ah, timorous wretch! Thou hast undone thyself, thy son, and me; And giv'n unto the house of York such head As thou shalt reign but by their sufferance To entail him and his heirs unto the crown, What is it but to make thy sepulchre And creep into it far before thy time? Warwick is Chancellor and the lord of Calais; Stern Falconbridge commands the narrow seas; The Duke is made Protector of the realm; And yet shalt thou be safe? Such safety finds The trembling lamb environed with wolves 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 When I return with victory from the field I'll see your Grace; till then I'll follow her 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 About that which concerns your Grace and us- The crown of England, father, which is yours By giving the house of Lancaster leave to breathe, It will outrun you, father, in the end Why do we linger thus? I cannot rest Until the white rose that I wear be dy'd Even in the lukewarm blood of Henry's heart What! think'st thou that we fear them? Edward and Richard, you shall stay with me; My brother Montague shall post to London Sir john and Sir Hugh Mortimer, mine uncles! You are come to Sandal in a happy hour; The army of the Queen mean to besiege us How now, is he dead already? Or is it fear That makes him close his eyes? I'll open them In vain thou speak'st, poor boy; my father's blood Hath stopp'd the passage where thy words should enter Ah, let me live in prison all my days; And when I give occasion of offence Then let me die, for now thou hast no cause [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 So cowards fight when they can fly no further; So doves do peck the falcon's piercing talons; So desperate thieves, all hopeless of their lives, Breathe out invectives 'gainst the officers I will not bandy with thee word for word, But buckler with thee blows, twice two for one Hold, valiant Clifford; for a thousand causes I would prolong awhile the traitor's life Brave warriors, Clifford and Northumberland, Come, make him stand upon this molehill here That raught at mountains with outstretched arms, Yet parted but the shadow with his hand I stain'd this napkin with the blood That valiant Clifford with his rapier's point Made issue from the bosom of the boy; And if thine eyes can water for his death, I give thee this to dry thy cheeks withal 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 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 She-wolf of France, but worse than wolves of France, Whose tongue more poisons than the adder's tooth! How ill-beseeming is it in thy sex To triumph like an Amazonian trull Upon their woes whom fortune captivates! But that thy face is visard-like, unchanging, Made impudent with use of evil deeds, I would assay, proud queen, to make thee blush To tell thee whence thou cam'st, of whom deriv'd, Were shame enough to shame thee, wert thou not shameless Hath that poor monarch taught thee to insult? It needs not, nor it boots thee not, proud queen; Unless the adage must be verified, That beggars mounted run their horse to death 'Tis beauty that doth oft make women proud; But, God He knows, thy share thereof is small 'Tis virtue that doth make them most admir'd; The contrary doth make thee wond'red at Thou art as opposite to every good As the Antipodes are unto us, Or as the south to the septentrion 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 Open Thy gate of mercy, gracious God! My soul flies through these wounds to seek out Thee Had he been ta'en, we should have heard the news; Had he been slain, we should have heard the news; Or had he scap'd, methinks we should have heard The happy tidings of his good escape 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 See, see! they join, embrace, and seem to kiss, As if they vow'd some league inviolable 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 Nay, bear three daughters- by your leave I speak it, You love the breeder better than the male Environed he was with many foes, And stood against them as the hope of Troy Against the Greeks that would have ent'red Troy But Hercules himself must yield to odds; And many strokes, though with a little axe, Hews down and fells the hardest-timber'd oak By many hands your father was subdu'd; But only slaught'red by the ireful arm Of unrelenting Clifford and the Queen, Who crown'd the gracious Duke in high despite, Laugh'd in his face; and when with grief he wept, The ruthless Queen gave him to dry his cheeks A napkin steeped in the harmless blood Of sweet young Rutland, by rough Clifford slain; And after many scorns, many foul taunts, They took his head, and on the gates of York They set the same; and there it doth remain, The saddest spectacle that e'er I view'd 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 Great Lord of Warwick, if we should recount Our baleful news and at each word's deliverance Stab poinards in our flesh till all were told, The words would add more anguish than the wounds O Warwick, Warwick! that Plantagenet Which held thee dearly as his soul's redemption Is by the stern Lord Clifford done to death Ten days ago I drown'd these news in tears; And now, to add more measure to your woes, I come to tell you things sith then befall'n 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 Our soldiers', like the night-owl's lazy flight Or like an idle thresher with a flail, Fell gently down, as if they struck their friends the King unto the Queen; Lord George your brother, Norfolk, and myself, In haste post-haste are come to join with you; For in the marches here we heard you were Making another head to fight again 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 The proud insulting Queen, With Clifford and the haught Northumberland, And of their feather many moe proud birds, Have wrought the easy-melting King like wax He swore consent to your succession, His oath enrolled in the parliament; And now to London all the crew are gone To frustrate both his oath and what beside May make against the house of Lancaster No longer Earl of March, but Duke of York; The next degree is England's royal throne, For King of England shalt thou be proclaim'd In every borough as we pass along; And he that throws not up his cap for joy Shall for the fault make forfeit of his head King Edward, valiant Richard, Montague, Stay we no longer, dreaming of renown, But sound the trumpets and about our task Then, Clifford, were thy heart as hard as steel, As thou hast shown it flinty by thy deeds, I come to pierce it or to give thee mine 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 Thou, being a king, bless'd with a goodly son, Didst yield consent to disinherit him, Which argued thee a most unloving father 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 Ay, like a dastard and a treacherous coward, As thou didst kill our tender brother Rutland; But ere sunset I'll make thee curse the deed My liege, the wound that bred this meeting here Cannot be cur'd by words; therefore be still Say, Henry, shall I have my right, or no? A thousand men have broke their fasts to-day That ne'er shall dine unless thou yield the crown If that be right which Warwick says is right, There is no wrong, but every thing is right Whoever got thee, there thy mother stands; For well I wot thou hast thy mother's tongue Helen of Greece was fairer far than thou, Although thy husband may be Menelaus; And ne'er was Agamemmon's brother wrong'd By that false woman as this king by thee For what hath broach'd this tumult but thy pride? Hadst thou been meek, our title still had slept; And we, in pity of the gentle King, Had slipp'd our claim until another age And in this resolution I defy thee; Not willing any longer conference, Since thou deniest the gentle King to speak No, wrangling woman, we'll no longer stay; These words will cost ten thousand lives this day Ah, Warwick, why hast thou withdrawn thyself? Thy brother's blood the thirsty earth hath drunk, Broach'd with the steely point of Clifford's lance; And in the very pangs of death he cried, Like to a dismal clangor heard from far, 'Warwick, revenge! Brother, revenge my death.' So, underneath the belly of their steeds, That stain'd their fetlocks in his smoking blood, The noble gentleman gave up the ghost Yet let us all together to our troops, And give them leave to fly that will not stay, And call them pillars that will stand to us; And if we thrive, promise them such rewards As victors wear at the Olympian games This battle fares like to the morning's war, When dying clouds contend with growing light, What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails, Can neither call it perfect day nor night Now sways it this way, like a mighty sea Forc'd by the tide to combat with the wind; Now sways it that way, like the selfsame sea Forc'd to retire by fury of the wind Sometime the flood prevails, and then the wind; Now one the better, then another best; Both tugging to be victors, breast to breast, Yet neither conqueror nor conquered To whom God will, there be the victory! For Margaret my queen, and Clifford too, Have chid me from the battle, swearing both They prosper best of all when I am thence When this is known, then to divide the times- So many hours must I tend my flock; So many hours must I take my rest; So many hours must I contemplate; So many hours must I sport myself; So many days my ewes have been with young; So many weeks ere the poor fools will can; So many years ere I shall shear the fleece My tears shall wipe away these bloody marks; And no more words till they have flow'd their fill O piteous spectacle! O bloody times! Whiles lions war and battle for their dens, Poor harmless lambs abide their enmity Woe above woe! grief more than common grief! O that my death would stay these ruthful deeds! O pity, pity, gentle heaven, pity! The red rose and the white are on his face, The fatal colours of our striving houses The one his purple blood right well resembles; The other his pale cheeks, methinks, presenteth How will my mother for a father's death Take on with me, and ne'er be satisfied! FATHER 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 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 Revoke that doom of mercy, for 'tis Clifford; Who not contented that he lopp'd the branch In hewing Rutland when his leaves put forth, But set his murd'ring knife unto the root From whence that tender spray did sweetly spring- I mean our princely father, Duke of York From off the gates of York fetch down the head, Your father's head, which Clifford placed there; Instead whereof let this supply the room 'Tis but his policy to counterfeit, Because he would avoid such bitter taunts Which in the time of death he gave our father 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 So shalt thou sinew both these lands together; And, having France thy friend, thou shalt not dread The scatt'red foe that hopes to rise again; For though they cannot greatly sting to hurt, Yet look to have them buzz to offend thine ears Under this thick-grown brake we'll shroud ourselves, For through this laund anon the deer will come; And in this covert will we make our stand, Culling the principal of all the deer That cannot be; the noise of thy cross-bow Will scare the herd, and so my shoot is lost 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 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 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 Her suit is now to repossess those lands; Which we in justice cannot well deny, Because in quarrel of the house of York The worthy gentleman did lose his life [Aside to CLARENCE] Yea, is it so? I see the lady hath a thing to grant, Before the King will grant her humble suit [Aside] Ay, good leave have you; for you will have leave Till youth take leave and leave you to the crutch 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 Thou art a widow, and thou hast some children; And, by God's Mother, I, being but a bachelor, Have other some Would he were wasted, marrow, bones, and all, That from his loins no hopeful branch may spring To cross me from the golden time I look for! And yet, between my soul's desire and me- The lustful Edward's title buried- Is Clarence, Henry, and his son young Edward, And all the unlook'd for issue of their bodies, To take their rooms ere I can place myself My eye's too quick, my heart o'erweens too much, Unless my hand and strength could equal them Why, love forswore me in my mother's womb; And, for I should not deal in her soft laws, She did corrupt frail nature with some bribe To shrink mine arm up like a wither'd shrub To make an envious mountain on my back, Where sits deformity to mock my body; To shape my legs of an unequal size; To disproportion me in every part, Like to a chaos, or an unlick'd bear-whelp That carries no impression like the dam 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 Oxford, how haps it in this smooth discourse You told not how Henry the Sixth hath lost All that which Henry the Fifth had gotten? Methinks these peers of France should smile at that Call him my king by whose injurious doom My elder brother, the Lord Aubrey Vere, Was done to death; and more than so, my father, Even in the downfall of his mellow'd years, When nature brought him to the door of death? No, Warwick, no; while life upholds this arm, This arm upholds the house of Lancaster Queen Margaret, Prince Edward, and Oxford, Vouchsafe at our request to stand aside While I use further conference with Warwick Myself have often heard him say and swear That this his love was an eternal plant Whereof the root was fix'd in virtue's ground, The leaves and fruit maintain'd with beauty's sun, Exempt from envy, but not from disdain, Unless the Lady Bona quit his pain Draw near, Queen Margaret, and be a witness That Bona shall be wife to the English king Peace, impudent and shameless Warwick, Proud setter up and puller down of kings! I will not hence till with my talk and tears, Both full of truth, I make King Lewis behold Thy sly conveyance and thy lord's false love; For both of you are birds of self-same feather My lord ambassador, these letters are for you, Sent from your brother, Marquis Montague 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 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 stay we now? These soldiers shall be levied; And thou, Lord Bourbon, our High Admiral, Shall waft them over with our royal fleet Had he none else to make a stale but me? Then none but I shall turn his jest to sorrow Enter KING EDWARD, attended; LADY GREY, as Queen; PEMBROKE, STAFFORD, HASTINGS, and others As well as Lewis of France or the Earl of Warwick, Which are so weak of courage and in judgment That they'll take no offence at our abuse No, God forbid that I should wish them sever'd Whom God hath join'd together; ay, and 'twere pity To sunder them that yoke so well together that King Lewis Becomes your enemy for mocking him About the marriage of the Lady Bona 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 For this one speech Lord Hastings well deserves To have the heir of the Lord Hungerford And yet methinks your Grace hath not done well To give the heir and daughter of Lord Scales Unto the brother of your loving bride 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 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 Go to, we pardon thee; therefore, in brief, Tell me their words as near as thou canst guess them He, more incens'd against your Majesty Than all the rest, discharg'd me with these words Pembroke and Stafford, you in our behalf Go levy men and make prepare for war; They are already, or quickly will be landed Come on, my masters, each man take his stand; The King by this is set him down to sleep Yea, brother of Clarence, art thou here too? Nay, then I see that Edward needs must down 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 My Lord of Somerset, at my request, See that forthwith Duke Edward be convey'd Unto my brother, Archbishop of York 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 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 But to prevent the tyrant's violence- For trust not him that hath once broken faith- I'll hence forthwith unto the sanctuary To save at least the heir of Edward's right Now, my Lord Hastings and Sir William Stanley, Leave off to wonder why I drew you hither Into this chiefest thicket of the park Brother, the time and case requireth haste; Your horse stands ready at the park corner Subjects may challenge nothing of their sov'reigns; But if an humble prayer may prevail, I then crave pardon of your Majesty For what, Lieutenant? For well using me? Nay, be thou sure I'll well requite thy kindness, For that it made my imprisonment a pleasure; Ay, such a pleasure as incaged birds Conceive when, after many moody thoughts, At last by notes of household harmony They quite forget their loss of liberty But, Warwick, after God, thou set'st me free, And chiefly therefore I thank God and thee; He was the author, thou the instrument 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 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 Ay, for if Edward repossess the crown, 'Tis like that Richmond with the rest shall down [Aside] But when the fox hath once got in his nose, He'll soon find means to make the body follow Why, Master Mayor, why stand you in a doubt? Open the gates; we are King Henry's friends 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 Thanks, good Montgomery; but we now forget Our title to the crown, and only claim Our dukedom till God please to send the rest Nay, stay, Sir John, a while, and we'll debate By what safe means the crown may be recover'd If you'll not here proclaim yourself our King, I'll leave you to your fortune and be gone To keep them back that come to succour you When we grow stronger, then we'll make our claim; Till then 'tis wisdom to conceal our meaning Brother, we will proclaim you out of hand; The bruit thereof will bring you many friends 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 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 I have not stopp'd mine ears to their demands, Nor posted off their suits with slow delays; My pity hath been balm to heal their wounds, My mildness hath allay'd their swelling griefs, My mercy dried their water-flowing tears; I have not been desirous of their wealth, Nor much oppress'd them with great subsidies, Nor forward of revenge, though they much err'd Then why should they love Edward more than me? No, Exeter, these graces challenge grace; And, when the lion fawns upon the lamb, The lamb will never cease to follow him Now stops thy spring; my sea shall suck them dry, And swell so much the higher by their ebb 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 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 I had rather chop this hand off at a blow, And with the other fling it at thy face, Than bear so low a sail to strike to thee Sail how thou canst, have wind and tide thy friend, This hand, fast wound about thy coal-black hair, Shall, whiles thy head is warm and new cut off, Write in the dust this sentence with thy blood Stand we in good array, for they no doubt Will issue out again and bid us battle; If not, the city being but of small defence, We'll quietly rouse the traitors in the same Thou and thy brother both shall buy this treason Even with the dearest blood your bodies bear 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 And lo where George of Clarence sweeps along, Of force enough to bid his brother battle; With whom an upright zeal to right prevails More than the nature of a brother's love [Taking the red rose from his hat and throwing it at WARWICK] Father of Warwick, know you what this means? Look here, I throw my infamy at thee I am so sorry for my trespass made That, to deserve well at my brother's hands, I here proclaim myself thy mortal foe; With resolution whereso'er I meet thee- As I will meet thee, if thou stir abroad- To plague thee for thy foul misleading me 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 Great lords, wise men ne'er sit and wail their loss, But cheerly seek how to redress their harms Is't meet that he Should leave the helm and, like a fearful lad, With tearful eyes add water to the sea And give more strength to that which hath too much; Whiles, in his moan, the ship splits on the rock, Which industry and courage might have sav'd? Ah, what a shame! ah, what a fault were this! Say Warwick was our anchor; what of that? And Montague our top-mast; what of him? Our slaught'red friends the tackles; what of these? Why, is not Oxford here another anchor? And Somerset another goodly mast? The friends of France our shrouds and tacklings? And, though unskilful, why not Ned and I For once allow'd the skilful pilot's charge? We will not from the helm to sit and weep, But keep our course, though the rough wind say no, From shelves and rocks that threaten us with wreck, As good to chide the waves as speak them fair And what is Edward but a ruthless sea? What Clarence but a quicksand of deceit? And Richard but a ragged fatal rock? All these the enemies to our poor bark Say you can swim; alas, 'tis but a while! Tread on the sand; why, there you quickly sink 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 Brave followers, yonder stands the thorny wood Which, by the heavens' assistance and your strength, Must by the roots be hewn up yet ere night Lords, knights, and gentlemen, what I should say My tears gainsay; for every word I speak, Ye see, I drink the water of my eye 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 I'll hence to London on a serious matter; Ere ye come there, be sure to hear some news Butchers and villains! bloody cannibals! How sweet a plant have you untimely cropp'd! You have no children, butchers, if you had, The thought of them would have stirr'd up remorse 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 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 And thus I prophesy, that many a thousand Which now mistrust no parcel of my fear, And many an old man's sigh, and many a widow's, And many an orphan's water-standing eye- Men for their sons, wives for their husbands, Orphans for their parents' timeless death- Shall rue the hour that ever thou wast born The owl shriek'd at thy birth- an evil sign; The night-crow cried, aboding luckless time; Dogs howl'd, and hideous tempest shook down trees; The raven rook'd her on the chimney's top, And chatt'ring pies in dismal discords sung; Thy mother felt more than a mother's pain, And yet brought forth less than a mother's hope, To wit, an indigest deformed lump, Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree What, will the aspiring blood of Lancaster Sink in the ground? I thought it would have mounted O, may such purple tears be always shed From those that wish the downfall of our house! If any spark of life be yet remaining, Down, down to hell; and say I sent thee thither- [Stabs him again] I, that have neither pity, love, nor fear Indeed, 'tis true that Henry told me of; For I have often heard my mother say I came into the world with my legs forward 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 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 [Aside] I'll blast his harvest if your head were laid; For yet I am not look'd on in the world Clarence and Gloucester, love my lovely queen; And kiss your princely nephew, brothers both And that I love the tree from whence thou sprang'st, Witness the loving kiss I give the fruit 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 London; Westminster; Kimbolton KING HENRY THE EIGHTH THE PROLOGUE 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 Their dwarfish pages were As cherubins, an gilt; the madams too, Not us'd to toil, did almost sweat to bear The pride upon them, that their very labour Was to them as a painting The two kings, Equal in lustre, were now best, now worst, As presence did present them 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 Surely, sir, There's in him stuff that puts him to these ends; For, being not propp'd by ancestry, whose grace Chalks successors their way, nor call'd upon For high feats done to th' crown, neither allied To eminent assistants, but spider-like, Out of his self-drawing web, 'a gives us note The force of his own merit makes his way- A gift that heaven gives for him, which buys A place next to the King I do know Kinsmen of mine, three at the least, that have By this so sicken'd their estates that never They shall abound as formerly Grievingly I think The peace between the French and us not values The cost that did conclude it Every man, After the hideous storm that follow'd, was A thing inspir'd, and, not consulting, broke Into a general prophecy-that this tempest, Dashing the garment of this peace, aboded The sudden breach on't Like it your Grace, The state takes notice of the private difference Betwixt you and the Cardinal You know his nature, That he's revengeful; and I know his sword Hath a sharp edge-it's long and't may be said It reaches far, and where 'twill not extend, Thither he darts it I'll to the King, And from a mouth of honour quite cry down This Ipswich fellow's insolence; or proclaim There's difference in no persons I say again there is no English soul More stronger to direct you than yourself, If with the sap of reason you would quench Or but allay the fire of passion 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 [To ABERGAVENNY] The King Is pleas'd you shall to th' Tower, till you know How he determines further Enter KING HENRY, leaning on the CARDINAL'S shoulder, the NOBLES, and SIR THOMAS LOVELL, with others 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 Please you, sir, I know but of a single part in aught Pertains to th' state, and front but in that file Where others tell steps with me No, my lord! You know no more than others! But you frame Things that are known alike, which are not wholesome To those which would not know them, and yet must Perforce be their acquaintance These exactions, Whereof my sovereign would have note, they are Most pestilent to th' hearing; and to bear 'em The back is sacrifice to th' load I would your Highness Would give it quick consideration, for There is no primer business And for me, I have no further gone in this than by A single voice; and that not pass'd me but By learned approbation of the judges Sixth part of each? A trembling contribution! Why, we take From every tree lop, bark, and part o' th' timber; And though we leave it with a root, thus hack'd, The air will drink the sap To every county Where this is question'd send our letters with Free pardon to each man that has denied The force of this commission Yet see, When these so noble benefits shall prove Not well dispos'd, the mind growing once corrupt, They turn to vicious forms, ten times more ugly Than ever they were fair Stand forth, and with bold spirit relate what you, Most like a careful subject, have collected Out of the Duke of Buckingham First, it was usual with him-every day It would infect his speech-that if the King Should without issue die, he'll carry it so To make the sceptre his These very words I've heard him utter to his son-in-law, Lord Aberga'ny, to whom by oath he menac'd Revenge upon the Cardinal Not long before your Highness sped to France, The Duke being at the Rose, within the parish Saint Lawrence Poultney, did of me demand What was the speech among the Londoners Concerning the French journey If I know you well, You were the Duke's surveyor, and lost your office On the complaint o' th' tenants As far as I see, all the good our English Have got by the late voyage is but merely A fit or two o' th' face; but they are shrewd ones; For when they hold 'em, you would swear directly Their very noses had been counsellors To Pepin or Clotharius, they keep state so Faith, my lord, I hear of none but the new proclamation That's clapp'd upon the court gate 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 They must either, For so run the conditions, leave those remnants Of fool and feather that they got in France, With all their honourable points of ignorance Pertaining thereunto-as fights and fireworks; Abusing better men than they can be, Out of a foreign wisdom-renouncing clean The faith they have in tennis, and tall stockings, Short blist'red breeches, and those types of travel And understand again like honest men, Or pack to their old playfellows There, I take it, They may, cum privilegio, wear away The lag end of their lewdness and be laugh'd at O, 'tis true; This night he makes a supper, and a great one, To many lords and ladies; there will be The beauty of this kingdom, I'll assure you Sweet ladies, will it please you sit? Sir Harry, Place you that side; I'll take the charge of this [Seats himself between ANNE BULLEN and another lady] If I chance to talk a little wild, forgive me; I had it from my father Good Lord Chamberlain, Go, give 'em welcome; you can speak the French tongue; And pray receive 'em nobly and conduct 'em Into our presence, where this heaven of beauty Shall shine at full upon them Enter the KING, and others, as maskers, habited like shepherds, usher'd by the LORD CHAMBERLAIN Say, Lord Chamberlain, They have done my poor house grace; for which I pay 'em A thousand thanks, and pray 'em take their pleasures The fairest hand I ever touch'd! O beauty, Till now I never knew thee! [Music An't please your Grace, Sir Thomas Bullen's daughter- The Viscount Rochford-one of her Highness' women O, God save ye! Ev'n to the Hall, to hear what shall become Of the great Duke of Buckingham Came to the bar; where to his accusations He pleaded still not guilty, and alleged Many sharp reasons to defeat the law Much He spoke, and learnedly, for life; but all Was either pitied in him or forgotten When he was brought again to th' bar to hear His knell rung out, his judgment, he was stirr'd With such an agony he sweat extremely, And something spoke in choler, ill and hasty; But he fell to himself again, and sweetly In all the rest show'd a most noble patience first, Kildare's attainder, Then deputy of Ireland, who remov'd, Earl Surrey was sent thither, and in haste too, Lest he should help his father All good people, You that thus far have come to pity me, Hear what I say, and then go home and lose me I have this day receiv'd a traitor's judgment, And by that name must die; yet, heaven bear witness, And if I have a conscience, let it sink me Even as the axe falls, if I be not faithful! The law I bear no malice for my death Be what they will, I heartily forgive 'em; Yet let 'em look they glory not in mischief Nor build their evils on the graves of great men, For then my guiltless blood must cry against 'em Prepare there; The Duke is coming; see the barge be ready; And fit it with such furniture as suits The greatness of his person Now his son, Henry the Eighth, life, honour, name, and all That made me happy, at one stroke has taken For ever from the world Where you are liberal of your loves and counsels, Be sure you be not loose; for those you make friends And give your hearts to, when they once perceive The least rub in your fortunes, fall away Like water from ye, never found again But where they mean to sink ye O, this is full of pity! Sir, it calls, I fear, too many curses on their heads That were the authors But that slander, sir, Is found a truth now; for it grows again Fresher than e'er it was, and held for certain The King will venture at it 'Tis the Cardinal; And merely to revenge him on the Emperor For not bestowing on him at his asking The archbishopric of Toledo, this is purpos'd Let's in; And with some other business put the King From these sad thoughts that work too much upon him Your Grace has given a precedent of wisdom Above all princes, in committing freely Your scruple to the voice of Christendom 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 All the clerks, I mean the learned ones, in Christian kingdoms Have their free voices And once more in mine arms I bid him welcome, And thank the holy conclave for their loves To your Highness' hand I tender my commission; by whose virtue- The court of Rome commanding-you, my Lord Cardinal of York, are join'd with me their servant In the unpartial judging of this business There was a lady once-'tis an old story- That would not be a queen, that would she not, For all the mud in Egypt 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 The BISHOPS place themselves on each side of the court, in manner of consistory; below them the SCRIBES What's the need? It hath already publicly been read, And on all sides th' authority allow'd; You may then spare that time If, in the course And process of this time, you can report, And prove it too against mine honour, aught, My bond to wedlock or my love and duty, Against your sacred person, in God's name, Turn me away and let the foul'st contempt Shut door upon me, and so give me up To the sharp'st kind of justice It shall be therefore bootless That longer you desire the court, as well For your own quiet as to rectify What is unsettled in the King I have no spleen against you, nor injustice For you or any; how far I have proceeded, Or how far further shall, is warranted By a commission from the Consistory, Yea, the whole Consistory of Rome You have, by fortune and his Highness' favours, Gone slightly o'er low steps, and now are mounted Where pow'rs are your retainers, and your words, Domestics to you, serve your will as't please Yourself pronounce their office I will not tarry; no, nor ever more Upon this business my appearance make In any of their courts Thou art, alone- If thy rare qualities, sweet gentleness, Thy meekness saint-like, wife-like government, Obeying in commanding, and thy parts Sovereign and pious else, could speak thee out- The queen of earthly queens You are not to be taught That you have many enemies that know not Why they are so, but, like to village curs, Bark when their fellows do But will you be more justified? You ever Have wish'd the sleeping of this business; never desir'd It to be stirr'd; but oft have hind'red, oft, The passages made toward it I' th' progress of this business, Ere a determinate resolution, he- I mean the Bishop-did require a respite Wherein he might the King his lord advertise Whether our daughter were legitimate, Respecting this our marriage with the dowager, Sometimes our brother's wife First, methought I stood not in the smile of heaven, who had Commanded nature that my lady's womb, If it conceiv'd a male child by me, should Do no more offices of life to't than The grave does to the dead; for her male issue Or died where they were made, or shortly after This world had air'd them SONG Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain tops that freeze, Bow themselves when he did sing; To his music plants and flowers Ever sprung, as sun and showers There had made a lasting spring Every thing that heard him play, Even the billows of the sea, Hung their heads and then lay by [Exit GENTLEMAN] What can be their business With me, a poor weak woman, fall'n from favour? I do not like their coming Your Graces find me here part of housewife; I would be all, against the worst may happen May it please you, noble madam, to withdraw Into your private chamber, we shall give you The full cause of our coming I was set at work Among my maids, full little, God knows, looking Either for such men or such business Take heed, for heaven's sake take heed, lest at once The burden of my sorrows fall upon ye For goodness' sake, consider what you do; How you may hurt yourself, ay, utterly Grow from the King's acquaintance, by this carriage 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 if you omit The offer of this time, I cannot promise But that you shall sustain moe new disgraces With these you bear already If you cannot Bar his access to th' King, never attempt Anything on him; for he hath a witchcraft Over the King in's tongue O, fear him not! His spell in that is out; the King hath found Matter against him that for ever mars The honey of his language No, no; There be moe wasps that buzz about his nose Will make this sting the sooner This same Cranmer's A worthy fellow, and hath ta'en much pain In the King's business Exit CROMWELL [Aside] It shall be to the Duchess of Alencon, The French King's sister; he shall marry her he bites his lip and starts, Stops on a sudden, looks upon the ground, Then lays his finger on his temple; straight Springs out into fast gait; then stops again, Strikes his breast hard; and anon he casts His eye against the moon You have scarce time To steal from spiritual leisure a brief span To keep your earthly audit; sure, in that I deem you an ill husband, and am glad To have you therein my companion My endeavours, Have ever come too short of my desires, Yet fil'd with my abilities; mine own ends Have been mine so that evermore they pointed To th' good of your most sacred person and The profit of the state 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 What should this mean? What sudden anger's this? How have I reap'd it? He parted frowning from me, as if ruin Leap'd from his eyes; so looks the chafed lion Upon the daring huntsman that has gall'd him- Then makes him nothing Hear the King's pleasure, Cardinal, who commands you To render up the great seal presently Into our hands, and to confine yourself To Asher House, my Lord of Winchester's, Till you hear further from his Highness Now I feel Of what coarse metal ye are moulded-envy; How eagerly ye follow my disgraces, As if it fed ye; and how sleek and wanton Ye appear in every thing may bring my ruin! Follow your envious courses, men of malice; You have Christian warrant for 'em, and no doubt In time will find their fit rewards Thy ambition, Thou scarlet sin, robb'd this bewailing land Of noble Buckingham, my father-in-law By my soul, Your long coat, priest, protects you; thou shouldst feel My sword i' the life-blood of thee else So much fairer And spotless shall mine innocence arise, When the King knows my truth Have at you! First, that without the King's assent or knowledge You wrought to be a legate; by which power You maim'd the jurisdiction of all bishops 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 That out of mere ambition you have caus'd Your holy hat to be stamp'd on the King's coin Then, that you have sent innumerable substance, By what means got I leave to your own conscience, To furnish Rome and to prepare the ways You have for dignities, to the mere undoing Of all the kingdom Lord Cardinal, the King's further pleasure is- Because all those things you have done of late, By your power legatine within this kingdom, Fall into th' compass of a praemunire- That therefore such a writ be sued against you To forfeit all your goods, lands, tenements, Chattels, and whatsoever, and to be Out of the King's protection 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 Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries; but thou hast forc'd me, Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman 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 Yes; 'tis the list Of those that claim their offices this day, By custom of the coronation The Archbishop Of Canterbury, accompanied with other Learned and reverend fathers of his order, Held a late court at Dunstable, six miles of From Ampthill, where the Princess lay; to which She was often cited by them, but appear'd not The old DUCHESS OF NORFOLK, in a coronal of gold wrought with flowers, bearing the QUEEN'S train [Looking on the QUEEN] Heaven bless thee! Thou hast the sweetest face I ever look'd on Among the crowds i' th' Abbey, where a finger Could not be wedg'd in more; I am stifled With the mere rankness of their joy The rich stream Of lords and ladies, having brought the Queen To a prepar'd place in the choir, fell of A distance from her, while her Grace sat down To rest awhile, some half an hour or so, In a rich chair of state, opposing freely The beauty of her person to the people Believe me, sir, she is the goodliest woman That ever lay by man; which when the people Had the full view of, such a noise arose As the shrouds make at sea in a stiff tempest, As loud, and to as many tunes; hats, cloaks- Doublets, I think-flew up, and had their faces Been loose, this day they had been lost Then rose again, and bow'd her to the people; When by the Archbishop of Canterbury She had all the royal makings of a queen As holy oil, Edward Confessor's crown, The rod, and bird of peace, and all such emblems Laid nobly on her; which perform'd, the choir, With all the choicest music of the kingdom, Together sung 'Te Deum.' So she parted, And with the same full state pac'd back again To York Place, where the feast is held the one of Winchester, Newly preferr'd from the King's secretary; The other, London He of Winchester Is held no great good lover of the Archbishop's, The virtuous Cranmer 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 Griffith, sick to death! My legs like loaden branches bow to th' earth, Willing to leave their burden At last, with easy roads, he came to Leicester, Lodg'd in the abbey; where the reverend abbot, With all his covent, honourably receiv'd him; To whom he gave these words He was a man Of an unbounded stomach, ever ranking Himself with princes; one that, by suggestion, Tied all the kingdom 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 They first congee unto her, then dance; and, at certain changes, the first two hold a spare garland over her head, at which the other four make reverent curtsies These should be hours for necessities, Not for delights; times to repair our nature With comforting repose, and not for us To waste these times The Queen's in labour, They say in great extremity, and fear'd She'll with the labour end Y'are a gentleman Of mine own way; I know you wise, religious; And, let me tell you, it will ne'er be well- 'Twill not, Sir Thomas Lovell, take't of me- Till Cranmer, Cromwell, her two hands, and she, Sleep in their graves As for Cromwell, Beside that of the Jewel House, is made Master O' th' Rolls, and the King's secretary; further, sir, Stands in the gap and trade of moe preferments, With which the time will load him Now, by my holidame, What manner of man are you? My lord, I look'd You would have given me your petition that I should have ta'en some pains to bring together Yourself and your accusers, and to have heard you Without indurance further If entreaties Will render you no remedy, this ring Deliver them, and your appeal to us There make before them Said I for this the girl was like to him! I'll Have more, or else unsay't; and now, while 'tis hot, I'll put it to the issue 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 The Council Chamber A Council table brought in, with chairs and stools, and placed under the state Which reformation must be sudden too, My noble lords; for those that tame wild horses Pace 'em not in their hands to make 'em gentle, But stop their mouth with stubborn bits and spur 'em Till they obey the manage Pray heaven the King may never find a heart With less allegiance in it! Men that make Envy and crooked malice nourishment Dare bite the best Look there, my lords; By virtue of that ring I take my cause Out of the gripes of cruel men and give it To a most noble judge, the King my master My mind gave me, In seeking tales and informations Against this man-whose honesty the devil And his disciples only envy at- Ye blew the fire that burns ye 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 By all that's holy, he had better starve Than but once think this place becomes thee not That is, a fair young maid that yet wants baptism; You must be godfather, and answer for her 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 There is a fellow somewhat near the door, he should be a brazier by his face, for, o' my conscience, twenty of the dog-days now reign in's nose; all that stand about him are under the line, they need no other penance That fire-drake did I hit three times on the head, and three times was his nose discharged against me; he stands there like a mortar-piece, to blow us There was a haberdasher's wife of small wit near him, that rail'd upon me till her pink'd porringer fell off her head, for kindling such a combustion in the state 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 These are the youths that thunder at a playhouse and fight for bitten apples; that no audience but the tribulation of Tower-hill or the limbs of Limehouse, their dear brothers, are able to endure I have some of 'em in Limbo Patrum, and there they are like to dance these three days; besides the running banquet of two beadles that is to come 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 are all these Your faithful friends o' th' suburbs? We shall have Great store of room, no doubt, left for the ladies, When they pass back from the christening Go break among the press and find a way out To let the troops pass fairly, or I'll find A Marshalsea shall hold ye play these two months 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 Let me speak, sir, For heaven now bids me; and the words I utter Let none think flattery, for they'll find 'em truth Good grows with her; In her days every man shall eat in safety Under his own vine what he plants, and sing The merry songs of peace to all his neighbours 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 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 If they smile And say 'twill do, I know within a while All the best men are ours; for 'tis ill hap If they hold when their ladies bid 'em clap Thus, after greeting, speaks the King of France In my behaviour to the majesty, The borrowed majesty, of England here The proud control of fierce and bloody war, To enforce these rights so forcibly withheld Bear mine to him, and so depart in peace; Be thou as lightning in the eyes of France; For ere thou canst report I will be there, The thunder of my cannon shall be heard Your faithful subject I, a gentleman Born in Northamptonshire, and eldest son, As I suppose, to Robert Faulconbridge- A soldier by the honour-giving hand Of Coeur-de-lion knighted in the field 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 Upon his death-bed he by will bequeath'd His lands to me, and took it on his death That this my mother's son was none of his; And if he were, he came into the world Full fourteen weeks before the course of time 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 Brother by th' mother's side, give me your hand; My father gave me honour, yours gave land 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 But this is worshipful society, And fits the mounting spirit like myself; For he is but a bastard to the time That doth not smack of observation- And so am I, whether I smack or no; And not alone in habit and device, Exterior form, outward accoutrement, But from the inward motion to deliver Sweet, sweet, sweet poison for the age's tooth; Which, though I will not practise to deceive, Yet, to avoid deceit, I mean to learn; For it shall strew the footsteps of my rising God shall forgive you Coeur-de-lion's death The rather that you give his offspring life, Shadowing their right under your wings of war I give you welcome with a powerless hand, But with a heart full of unstained love; Welcome before the gates of Angiers, Duke That to my home I will no more return Till Angiers and the right thou hast in France, Together with that pale, that white-fac'd shore, Whose foot spurns back the ocean's roaring tides And coops from other lands her islanders- Even till that England, hedg'd in with the main, That water-walled bulwark, still secure And confident from foreign purposes- Even till that utmost corner of the west Salute thee for her king Well then, to work! Our cannon shall be bent Against the brows of this resisting town; Call for our chiefest men of discipline, To cull the plots of best advantages 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 This toil of ours should be a work of thine; But thou from loving England art so far That thou hast under-wrought his lawful king, Cut off the sequence of posterity, Outfaced infant state, and done a rape Upon the maiden virtue of the crown From that supernal judge that stirs good thoughts In any breast of strong authority To look into the blots and stains of right My boy a bastard! By my soul, I think His father never was so true begot; It cannot be, an if thou wert his mother 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 Thou monstrous injurer of heaven and earth, Call not me slanderer! Thou and thine usurp The dominations, royalties, and rights, Of this oppressed boy; this is thy eldest son's son, Infortunate in nothing but in thee Some trumpet summon hither to the walls These men of Angiers; let us hear them speak Whose title they admit, Arthur's or John's But if you fondly pass our proffer'd offer, 'Tis not the roundure of your old-fac'd walls Can hide you from our messengers of war, Though all these English and their discipline Were harbour'd in their rude circumference Till you compound whose right is worthiest, We for the worthiest hold the right from both Their armours that march'd hence so silver-bright Hither return all gilt with Frenchmen's blood There stuck no plume in any English crest That is removed by a staff of France; Our colours do return in those same hands That did display them when we first march'd forth; And like a jolly troop of huntsmen come Our lusty English, all with purpled hands, Dy'd in the dying slaughter of their foes France, hast thou yet more blood to cast away? Say, shall the current of our right run on? Whose passage, vex'd with thy impediment, Shall leave his native channel and o'erswell With course disturb'd even thy confining shores, Unless thou let his silver water keep A peaceful progress to the ocean England, thou hast not sav'd one drop of blood In this hot trial more than we of France; Rather, lost more And by this hand I swear, That sways the earth this climate overlooks, Before we will lay down our just-borne arms, We'll put thee down, 'gainst whom these arms we bear, Or add a royal number to the dead, Gracing the scroll that tells of this war's loss With slaughter coupled to the name of kings Why stand these royal fronts amazed thus? Cry 'havoc!' kings; back to the stained field, You equal potents, fiery kindled spirits! Then let confusion of one part confirm The other's peace By east and west let France and England mount Their battering cannon, charged to the mouths, Till their soul-fearing clamours have brawl'd down The flinty ribs of this contemptuous city I'd play incessantly upon these jades, Even till unfenced desolation Leave them as naked as the vulgar air [Aside] O prudent discipline! From north to south, Austria and France shoot in each other's mouth vouchsafe awhile to stay, And I shall show you peace and fair-fac'd league; Win you this city without stroke or wound; Rescue those breathing lives to die in beds That here come sacrifices for the field That daughter there of Spain, the Lady Blanch, Is niece to England; look upon the years Of Lewis the Dauphin and that lovely maid O, two such silver currents, when they join, Do glorify the banks that bound them in; And two such shores to two such streams made one, Two such controlling bounds, shall you be, Kings, To these two princes, if you marry them Zounds! I was never so bethump'd with words Since I first call'd my brother's father dad Son, list to this conjunction, make this match; Give with our niece a dowry large enough; For by this knot thou shalt so surely tie Thy now unsur'd assurance to the crown That yon green boy shall have no sun to ripe The bloom that promiseth a mighty fruit 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 protest I never lov'd myself Till now infixed I beheld myself Drawn in the flattering table of her eye Now, citizens of Angiers, ope your gates, Let in that amity which you have made; For at Saint Mary's chapel presently The rites of marriage shall be solemniz'd And why rail I on this commodity? But for because he hath not woo'd me yet; Not that I have the power to clutch my hand When his fair angels would salute my palm, But for my hand, as unattempted yet, Like a poor beggar raileth on the rich Well, whiles I am a beggar, I will rail And say there is no sin but to be rich; And being rich, my virtue then shall be To say there is no vice but beggary It cannot be; thou dost but say 'tis so; I trust I may not trust thee, for thy word Is but the vain breath of a common man 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 What dost thou mean by shaking of thy head? Why dost thou look so sadly on my son? What means that hand upon that breast of thine? Why holds thine eye that lamentable rheum, Like a proud river peering o'er his bounds? Be these sad signs confirmers of thy words? Then speak again-not all thy former tale, But this one word, whether thy tale be true 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 To solemnize this day the glorious sun Stays in his course and plays the alchemist, Turning with splendour of his precious eye The meagre cloddy earth to glittering gold You have beguil'd me with a counterfeit Resembling majesty, which, being touch'd and tried, Proves valueless; you are forsworn, forsworn; You came in arms to spill mine enemies' blood, But now in arms you strengthen it with yours 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 What earthly name to interrogatories Can task the free breath of a sacred king? Thou canst not, Cardinal, devise a name So slight, unworthy, and ridiculous, To charge me to an answer, as the Pope 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 O, lawful let it be That I have room with Rome to curse awhile! Good father Cardinal, cry thou 'amen' To my keen curses; for without my wrong There is no tongue hath power to curse him right Bethink you, father; for the difference Is purchase of a heavy curse from Rome Or the light loss of England for a friend This royal hand and mine are newly knit, And the conjunction of our inward souls Married in league, coupled and link'd together With all religious strength of sacred vows; The latest breath that gave the sound of words Was deep-sworn faith, peace, amity, true love, Between our kingdoms and our royal selves; And even before this truce, but new before, No longer than we well could wash our hands, To clap this royal bargain up of peace, Heaven knows, they were besmear'd and overstain'd With slaughter's pencil, where revenge did paint The fearful difference of incensed kings Therefore, to arms! be champion of our church, Or let the church, our mother, breathe her curse- A mother's curse-on her revolting son O, let thy vow First made to heaven, first be to heaven perform'd, That is, to be the champion of our Church What since thou swor'st is sworn against thyself And may not be performed by thyself, For that which thou hast sworn to do amiss Is not amiss when it is truly done; And being not done, where doing tends to ill, The truth is then most done not doing it; The better act of purposes mistook Is to mistake again; though indirect, Yet indirection thereby grows direct, And falsehood cures, as fire cools fire Within the scorched veins of one new-burn'd Therefore thy later vows against thy first Is in thyself rebellion to thyself; And better conquest never canst thou make Than arm thy constant and thy nobler parts Against these giddy loose suggestions; Upon which better part our pray'rs come in, If thou vouchsafe them But if not, then know The peril of our curses fight on thee So heavy as thou shalt not shake them off, But in despair die under the black weight Old Time the clock-setter, that bald sexton Time, Is it as he will? Well then, France shall rue each army hath a hand; And in their rage, I having hold of both, They whirl asunder and dismember me 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 [To ARTHUR] Cousin, look not sad; Thy grandam loves thee, and thy uncle will As dear be to thee as thy father was [To the BASTARD] Cousin, away for England! haste before, And, ere our coming, see thou shake the bags Of hoarding abbots; imprisoned angels Set at liberty; the fat ribs of peace Must by the hungry now be fed upon Good friend, thou hast no cause to say so yet, But thou shalt have; and creep time ne'er so slow, Yet it shall come for me to do thee good Enter CONSTANCE Look who comes here! a grave unto a soul; Holding th' eternal spirit, against her will, In the vile prison of afflicted breath O, what love I note In the fair multitude of those her hairs! Where but by a chance a silver drop hath fall'n, Even to that drop ten thousand wiry friends Do glue themselves in sociable grief, Like true, inseparable, faithful loves, Sticking together in calamity And, father Cardinal, I have heard you say That we shall see and know our friends in heaven; If that be true, I shall see my boy again; For since the birth of Cain, the first male child, To him that did but yesterday suspire, There was not such a gracious creature born Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form; Then have I reason to be fond of grief I will not keep this form upon my head, [Tearing her hair] When there is such disorder in my wit No, no; when Fortune means to men most good, She looks upon them with a threat'ning eye You, in the right of Lady Blanch your wife, May then make all the claim that Arthur did O, Sir, when he shall hear of your approach, If that young Arthur be not gone already, Even at that news he dies; and then the hearts Of all his people shall revolt from him, And kiss the lips of unacquainted change, And pick strong matter of revolt and wrath Out of the bloody fingers' ends of john 'Tis wonderful What may be wrought out of their discontent, Now that their souls are topful of offence When I strike my foot Upon the bosom of the ground, rush forth And bind the boy which you shall find with me Fast to the chair [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 O, save me, Hubert, save me! My eyes are out Even with the fierce looks of these bloody men Well, see to live; I will not touch thine eye For all the treasure that thine uncle owes I'll fill these dogged spies with false reports; And, pretty child, sleep doubtless and secure That Hubert, for the wealth of all the world, Will not offend thee When workmen strive to do better than well, They do confound their skill in covetousness; And oftentimes excusing of a fault Doth make the fault the worse by th' excuse, As patches set upon a little breach Discredit more in hiding of the fault Than did the fault before it was so patch'd And when it breaks, I fear will issue thence The foul corruption of a sweet child's death Good lords, although my will to give is living, The suit which you demand is gone and dead The copy of your speed is learn'd by them, For when you should be told they do prepare, The tidings comes that they are all arriv'd But if you be afear'd to hear the worst, Then let the worst, unheard, fall on your head 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 My lord, they say five moons were seen to-night; Four fixed, and the fifth did whirl about The other four in wondrous motion But thou didst understand me by my signs, And didst in signs again parley with sin; Yea, without stop, didst let thy heart consent, And consequently thy rude hand to act The deed which both our tongues held vile to name This hand of mine Is yet a maiden and an innocent hand, Not painted with the crimson spots of blood Doth Arthur live? O, haste thee to the peers, Throw this report on their incensed rage And make them tame to their obedience! Forgive the comment that my passion made Upon thy feature; for my rage was blind, And foul imaginary eyes of blood Presented thee more hideous than thou art Lords, I will meet him at Saint Edmundsbury; It is our safety, and we must embrace This gentle offer of the perilous time The Count Melun, a noble lord of France, Whose private with me of the Dauphin's love Is much more general than these lines import Once more to-day well met, distemper'd lords! The King by me requests your presence straight We will not line his thin bestained cloak With our pure honours, nor attend the foot That leaves the print of blood where'er it walks O death, made proud with pure and princely beauty! The earth had not a hole to hide this deed Sir Richard, what think you? Have you beheld, Or have you read or heard, or could you think? Or do you almost think, although you see, That you do see? Could thought, without this object, Form such another? This is the very top, The height, the crest, or crest unto the crest, Of murder's arms; this is the bloodiest shame, The wildest savagery, the vilest stroke, That ever wall-ey'd wrath or staring rage Presented to the tears of soft remorse It is a damned and a bloody work; The graceless action of a heavy hand, If that it be the work of any hand It is the shameful work of Hubert's hand; The practice and the purpose of the King; From whose obedience I forbid my soul Kneeling before this ruin of sweet life, And breathing to his breathless excellence The incense of a vow, a holy vow, Never to taste the pleasures of the world, Never to be infected with delight, Nor conversant with ease and idleness, Till I have set a glory to this hand By giving it the worship of revenge If thou but frown on me, or stir thy foot, Or teach thy hasty spleen to do me shame, I'll strike thee dead Put up thy sword betime; Or I'll so maul you and your toasting-iron That you shall think the devil is come from hell If thou didst but consent To this most cruel act, do but despair; And if thou want'st a cord, the smallest thread That ever spider twisted from her womb Will serve to strangle thee; a rush will be a beam To hang thee on; or wouldst thou drown thyself, Put but a little water in a spoon And it shall be as all the ocean, Enough to stifle such a villain up I do suspect thee very grievously How easy dost thou take all England up! From forth this morsel of dead royalty The life, the right, and truth of all this realm Is fled to heaven; and England now is left To tug and scamble, and to part by th' teeth The unowed interest of proud-swelling state Now for the bare-pick'd bone of majesty Doth dogged war bristle his angry crest And snarleth in the gentle eyes of peace; Now powers from home and discontents at home Meet in one line; and vast confusion waits, As doth a raven on a sick-fall'n beast, The imminent decay of wrested pomp I'll to the King; A thousand businesses are brief in hand, And heaven itself doth frown upon the land Now keep your holy word; go meet the French; And from his Holiness use all your power To stop their marches fore we are inflam'd 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 On this Ascension-day, remember well, Upon your oath of service to the Pope, Go I to make the French lay down their arms Your nobles will not hear you, but are gone To offer service to your enemy; And wild amazement hurries up and down The little number of your doubtful friends But wherefore do you droop? Why look you sad? Be great in act, as you have been in thought; Let not the world see fear and sad distrust Govern the motion of a kingly eye Be stirring as the time; be fire with fire; Threaten the threat'ner, and outface the brow Of bragging horror; so shall inferior eyes, That borrow their behaviours from the great, Grow great by your example and put on The dauntless spirit of resolution The legate of the Pope hath been with me, And I have made a happy peace with him; And he hath promis'd to dismiss the powers Led by the Dauphin Perchance the Cardinal cannot make your peace; Or, if he do, let it at least be said They saw we had a purpose of defence 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 I am too high-born to be propertied, To be a secondary at control, Or useful serving-man and instrument To any sovereign state throughout the world 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 This apish and unmannerly approach, This harness'd masque and unadvised revel This unhair'd sauciness and boyish troops, The King doth smile at; and is well prepar'd To whip this dwarfish war, these pigmy arms, From out the circle of his territories 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 keep good quarter and good care to-night; The day shall not be up so soon as I To try the fair adventure of to-morrow And if thou please, Thou mayst befriend me so much as to think I come one way of the Plantagenets Brave soldier, pardon me That any accent breaking from thy tongue Should scape the true acquaintance of mine ear 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 Which some suppose the soul's frail dwelling-house, Doth by the idle comments that it makes Foretell the ending of mortality Death, having prey'd upon the outward parts, Leaves them invisible, and his siege is now Against the mind, the which he pricks and wounds With many legions of strange fantasies, Which, in their throng and press to that last hold, Confound themselves 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 The Dauphin is preparing hitherward, Where God He knows how we shall answer him; For in a night the best part of my pow'r, As I upon advantage did remove, Were in the Washes all unwarily Devoured by the unexpected flood 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 Straight let us seek, or straight we shall be sought; The Dauphin rages at our very heels And you, my noble Prince, With other princes that may best be spar'd, Shall wait upon your father's funeral Now these her princes are come home again, Come the three corners of the world in arms, And we shall shock them I am indeed, sir, a surgeon to old shoes; when they are in great danger, I recover them Wherefore rejoice? What conquest brings he home? What tributaries follow him to Rome To grace in captive bonds his chariot wheels? You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things! O you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome, Knew you not Pompey? Many a time and oft Have you climb'd up to walls and battlements, To towers and windows, yea, to chimney tops, Your infants in your arms, and there have sat The livelong day with patient expectation To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome Go, go, good countrymen, and, for this fault, Assemble all the poor men of your sort, Draw them to Tiber banks, and weep your tears Into the channel, till the lowest stream Do kiss the most exalted shores of all See whether their basest metal be not moved; They vanish tongue-tied in their guiltiness I'll about And drive away the vulgar from the streets; So do you too, where you perceive them thick Enter Caesar; Antony, for the course; Calpurnia, Portia, Decius, Cicero, Brutus, Cassius, and Casca; a great crowd follows, among them a Soothsayer Forget not in your speed, Antonio, To touch Calpurnia, for our elders say The barren, touched in this holy chase, Shake off their sterile curse 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 And be not jealous on me, gentle Brutus; Were I a common laugher, or did use To stale with ordinary oaths my love To every new protester, if you know That I do fawn on men and hug them hard And after scandal them, or if you know That I profess myself in banqueting To all the rout, then hold me dangerous I was born free as Caesar, so were you; We both have fed as well, and we can both Endure the winter's cold as well as he But ere we could arrive the point proposed, Caesar cried, "Help me, Cassius, or I sink! I, as Aeneas our great ancestor Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder The old Anchises bear, so from the waves of Tiber Did I the tired Caesar 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 should be in that "Caesar"? Why should that name be sounded more than yours? Write them together, yours is as fair a name; Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well; Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with 'em, "Brutus" will start a spirit as soon as "Caesar." Now, in the names of all the gods at once, Upon what meat doth this our Caesar feed That he is grown so great? Age, thou art shamed! Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods! When went there by an age since the great flood But it was famed with more than with one man? When could they say till now that talk'd of Rome That her wide walls encompass'd but one man? Now is it Rome indeed, and room enough, When there is in it but one only man How I have thought of this and of these times, I shall recount hereafter; for this present, I would not, so with love I might entreat you, Be any further moved But, look you, Cassius, The angry spot doth glow on Caesar's brow, And all the rest look like a chidden train He reads much, He is a great observer, and he looks Quite through the deeds of men Such men as he be never at heart's ease Whiles they behold a greater than themselves, And therefore are they very dangerous 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 If the tagrag people did not clap him and hiss him according as he pleased and displeased them, as they use to do the players in the theatre, I am no true man 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 An had been a man of any occupation, if I would not have taken him at a word, I would I might go to hell among the rogues When he came to himself again, he said, if he had done or said anything amiss, he desired their worships to think it was his infirmity Three or four wenches where I stood cried, "Alas, good soul!" and forgave him with all their hearts Nay, an I tell you that, I'll ne'er look you i' the face again; but those that understood him smiled at one another and shook their heads; but for mine own part, it was Greek to me Either there is a civil strife in heaven, Or else the world too saucy with the gods Incenses them to send destruction 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 When these prodigies Do so conjointly meet, let not men say "These are their reasons; they are natural" But men may construe things after their fashion, Clean from the purpose of the things themselves 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 You look pale and gaze And put on fear and cast yourself in wonder To see the strange impatience of the heavens 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 Therein, ye gods, you make the weak most strong; Therein, ye gods, you tyrants do defeat And why should Caesar be a tyrant then? Poor man! I know he would not be a wolf But that he sees the Romans are but sheep Be factious for redress of all these griefs, And I will set this foot of mine as far As who goes farthest Three parts of him Is ours already, and the man entire Upon the next encounter yields him ours It must be by his death, and, for my part, I know no personal cause to spurn at him, But for the general 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 Searching the window for a flint I found This paper thus seal'd up, and I am sure It did not lie there when I went to bed Shall Rome stand under one man's awe? What, Rome? My ancestors did from the streets of Rome The Tarquin drive, when he was call'd a king Between the acting of a dreadful thing And the first motion, all the interim is Like a phantasma or a hideous dream; The genius and the mortal instruments Are then in council, and the state of man, Like to a little kingdom, suffers then The nature of an insurrection O Conspiracy, Shamest thou to show thy dangerous brow by night, When evils are most free? O, then, by day Where wilt thou find a cavern dark enough To mask thy monstrous visage? Seek none, Conspiracy; Hide it in smiles and affability; For if thou path, thy native semblance on, Not Erebus itself were dim enough To hide thee from prevention Here, as I point my sword, the sun arises, Which is a great way growing on the south, Weighing the youthful season of the year 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, name him not; let us not break with him, For he will never follow anything That other men begin 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 It may be these apparent prodigies, The unaccustom'd terror of this night, And the persuasion of his augurers May hold him from the Capitol today If he be so resolved, I can o'ersway him, for he loves to hear That unicorns may be betray'd with trees, And bears with glasses, elephants with holes, Lions with toils, and men with flatterers; But when I tell him he hates flatterers, He says he does, being then most flattered 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 Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber; Thou hast no figures nor no fantasies, Which busy care draws in the brains of men; Therefore thou sleep'st so sound Portia, what mean you? Wherefore rise you now? It is not for your health thus to commit Your weak condition to the raw cold morning I have made strong proof of my constancy, Giving myself a voluntary wound Here in the thigh Portia, go in awhile, And by and by thy bosom shall partake The secrets of my heart Now bid me run, And I will strive with things impossible, Yea, get the better of them the things that threaten'd me Ne'er look'd but on my back; when they shall see The face of Caesar, they are vanished There is one within, Besides the things that we have heard and seen, Recounts most horrid sights seen by the watch 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 What can be avoided Whose end is purposed by the mighty gods? Yet Caesar shall go forth, for these predictions Are to the world in general as to Caesar When beggars die, there are no comets seen; The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes Plucking the entrails of an offering forth, They could not find a heart within the beast And you are come in very happy time To bear my greeting to the senators And tell them that I will not come today Shall Caesar send a lie? Have I in conquest stretch'd mine arm so far To be afeard to tell greybeards the truth? Decius, go tell them Caesar will not come 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 Good friends, go in and taste some wine with me, And we like friends will straightway go together [Aside.] That every like is not the same, O Caesar, The heart of Brutus yearns to think upon! Exeunt If thou read this, O Caesar, thou mayest live; If not, the Fates with traitors do contrive I would have had thee there, and here again, Ere I can tell thee what thou shouldst do there Ay me, how weak a thing The heart of woman is! O Brutus, The heavens speed thee in thine enterprise! Sure, the boy heard me Enter Caesar, Brutus, Cassius, Casca, Decius, Metellus, Trebonius, Cinna, Antony, Lepidus, Popilius, Publius, and others These couchings and these lowly courtesies Might fire the blood of ordinary men And turn preordinance and first decree Into the law of children 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 The skies are painted with unnumber'd sparks; They are all fire and every one doth shine; But there's but one in all doth hold his place So oft as that shall be, So often shall the knot of us be call'd The men that gave their country liberty Brutus shall lead, and we will grace his heels With the most boldest and best hearts of Rome I wish we may, but yet have I a mind That fears him much, and my misgiving still Falls shrewdly to the purpose O mighty Caesar! Dost thou lie so low? Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils, Shrunk to this little measure? Fare thee well If I myself, there is no hour so fit As Caesar's death's hour, nor no instrument Of half that worth as those your swords, made rich With the most noble blood of all this world 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 Gentlemen all- alas, what shall I say? My credit now stands on such slippery ground, That one of two bad ways you must conceit me, Either a coward or a flatterer 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 Therefore I took your hands, but was indeed Sway'd from the point by looking down on Caesar That's all I seek; And am moreover suitor that I may Produce his body to the marketplace, And in the pulpit, as becomes a friend, Speak in the order of his funeral By your pardon, I will myself into the pulpit first, And show the reason of our Caesar's death O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth, That I am meek and gentle with these butchers! Thou art the ruins of the noblest man That ever lived in the tide of times He did receive his letters, and is coming, And bid me say to you by word of mouth- O Caesar! Sees the body Yet stay awhile, Thou shalt not back till I have borne this corse Into the marketplace There shall I try, In my oration, how the people take The cruel issue of these bloody men, According to the which thou shalt discourse To young Octavius of the state of things He hath brought many captives home to Rome, Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill 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 Mark'd ye his words? He would not take the crown; Therefore 'tis certain he was not ambitious Let but the commons hear this testament- Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read- And they would go and kiss dead Caesar's wounds And dip their napkins in his sacred blood, Yea, beg a hair of him for memory, And, dying, mention it within their wills, Bequeathing it as a rich legacy Unto their issue 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 remember The first time ever Caesar put it on; 'Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent, That day he overcame the Nervii Then burst his mighty heart, And, in his mantle muffling up his face, Even at the base of Pompey's statue, Which all the while ran blood, great Caesar fell 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 Wherein hath Caesar thus deserved your loves? Alas, you know not; I must tell you then Come, away, away! We'll burn his body in the holy place And with the brands fire the traitors' houses There are no tricks in plain and simple faith; But hollow men, like horses hot at hand, Make gallant show and promise of their mettle; But when they should endure the bloody spur, They fall their crests and like deceitful jades Sink in the trial You have condemn'd and noted Lucius Pella For taking bribes here of the Sardians, Wherein my letters, praying on his side, Because I knew the man, were slighted off I an itching palm? You know that you are Brutus that speaks this, Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last The name of Cassius honors this corruption, And chastisement doth therefore hide his head Urge me no more, I shall forget myself; Have mind upon your health, tempt me no farther A friend should bear his friend's infirmities, But Brutus makes mine greater than they are Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come, Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius, For Cassius is aweary of the world If that thou best a Roman, take it forth; I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart Yes, Cassius, and from henceforth, When you are overearnest with your Brutus, He'll think your mother chides, and leave you so Messala, I have here received letters That young Octavius and Mark Antony Come down upon us with a mighty power, Bending their expedition toward Philippi There in our letters do not well agree; Mine speak of seventy senators that died By their proscriptions, Cicero being one The people 'twixt Philippi and this ground Do stand but in a forced affection, For they have grudged us contribution The enemy, marching along by them, By them shall make a fuller number up, Come on refresh'd, new-added, and encouraged; From which advantage shall we cut him off If at Philippi we do face him there, These people at our back I pray you, sirs, lie in my tent and sleep; It may be I shall raise you by and by On business to my brother Cassius O murtherous slumber, Layest thou thy leaden mace upon my boy That plays thee music? Gentle knave, good night If thou dost nod, thou break'st thy instrument; I'll take it from thee; and, good boy, good night Their battles are at hand; They mean to warn us at Philippi here, Answering before we do demand of them Antony, The posture of your blows are yet unknown; But for your words, they rob the Hybla bees, And leave them honeyless Villains! You did not so when your vile daggers Hack'd one another in the sides of Caesar You show'd your teeth like apes, and fawn'd like hounds, And bow'd like bondmen, kissing Caesar's feet; Whilst damned Casca, like a cur, behind Strooke Caesar on the neck Look, I draw a sword against conspirators; When think you that the sword goes up again? Never, till Caesar's three and thirty wounds Be well avenged, or till another Caesar Have added slaughter to the sword of traitors Why, now, blow and, swell billow, and swim bark! The storm is up, and all is on the hazard Their shadows seem A canopy most fatal, under which Our army lies, ready to give up the ghost Now, most noble Brutus, The gods today stand friendly that we may, Lovers in peace, lead on our days to age! But, since the affairs of men rest still incertain, Let's reason with the worst that may befall Forever, and forever, farewell, Cassius! If we do meet again, why, we shall smile; If not, why then this parting was well made 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 Fly further off, my lord, fly further off; Mark Antony is in your tents, my lord; Fly, therefore, noble Cassius, fly far off Titinius, if thou lovest me, Mount thou my horse and hide thy spurs in him, Till he have brought thee up to yonder troops And here again, that I may rest assured Whether yond troops are friend or enemy Go, Pindarus, get higher on that hill; My sight was ever thick; regard Titinius, And tell me what thou notest about the field here, take thou the hilts; And when my face is cover'd, as 'tis now, Guide thou the sword [Pindarus stabs him.] Caesar, thou art revenged, Even with the sword that kill'd thee Thou seest the world, Volumnius, how it goes; Our enemies have beat us to the pit; Low alarums 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 It did always seem so to us; but now, in the division of the kingdom, it appears not which of the Dukes he values most, for equalities are so weigh'd that curiosity in neither can make choice of either's moiety Know we have divided In three our kingdom; and 'tis our fast intent To shake all cares and business from our age, Conferring them on younger strengths while we Unburthen'd crawl toward death Of all these bounds, even from this line to this, With shadowy forests and with champains rich'd, With plenteous rivers and wide-skirted meads, We make thee lady Let it be so! thy truth then be thy dower! For, by the sacred radiance of the sun, The mysteries of Hecate and the night; By all the operation of the orbs From whom we do exist and cease to be; Here I disclaim all my paternal care, Propinquity and property of blood, And as a stranger to my heart and me Hold thee from this for ever My life I never held but as a pawn To wage against thine enemies; nor fear to lose it, Thy safety being the motive Revoke thy gift, Or, whilst I can vent clamour from my throat, I'll tell thee thou dost evil If, on the tenth day following, Thy banish'd trunk be found in our dominions, The moment is thy death 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 I know you what you are; And, like a sister, am most loath to call Your faults as they are nam'd The best and soundest of his time hath been but rash; then must we look to receive from his age, not alone the imperfections of long-ingraffed condition, but therewithal the unruly waywardness that infirm and choleric years bring with them (reads) 'This policy and reverence of age makes the world bitter to the best of our times; keeps our fortunes from us till our oldness cannot relish them 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 If it shall please you to suspend your indignation against my brother till you can derive from him better testimony of his intent, you should run a certain course; where, if you violently proceed against him, mistaking his purpose, it would make a great gap in your own honour and shake in pieces the heart of his obedience 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 Heaven and earth! Edmund, seek him out; wind me into him, I pray you; frame the business after your own wisdom Though the wisdom of nature can reason it thus and thus, yet nature finds itself scourg'd by the sequent effects In cities, mutinies; in countries, discord; in palaces, treason; and the bond crack'd 'twixt son and father Fut! I should have been that I am, had the maidenliest star in the firmament twinkled on my bastardizing I am thinking, brother, of a prediction I read this other day, what should follow these eclipses A credulous father! and a brother noble, Whose nature is so far from doing harms That he suspects none; on whose foolish honesty My practices ride easy! I see the business Idle old man, That still would manage those authorities That he hath given away! Now, by my life, Old fools are babes again, and must be us'd With checks as flatteries, when they are seen abus'd Now, banish'd Kent, If thou canst serve where thou dost stand condemn'd, So may it come, thy master, whom thou lov'st, Shall find thee full of labours 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 The sweet and bitter fool Will presently appear; The one in motley here, The other found out there Why, after I have cut the egg i' th' middle and eat up the meat, the two crowns of the egg When thou clovest thy crown i' th' middle and gav'st away both parts, thou bor'st thine ass on thy back o'er the dirt [Sings] Fools had ne'er less grace in a year, For wise men are grown foppish; They know not how their wits to wear, Their manners are so apish 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 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 [To Goneril] Life and death! I am asham'd That thou hast power to shake my manhood thus; That these hot tears, which break from me perforce, Should make thee worth them Thou shalt find That I'll resume the shape which thou dost think I have cast off for ever; thou shalt, I warrant thee If she sustain him and his hundred knights, When I have show'd th' unfitness- Enter [Oswald the] Steward Acquaint my daughter no further with anything you know than comes from her demand out of the letter Besides, his picture I will send far and near, that all the kingdom May have due note of him, and of my land, Loyal and natural boy, I'll work the means To make thee capable I have this present evening from my sister Been well inform'd of them, and with such cautions That, if they come to sojourn at my house, I'll not be there Our good old friend, Lay comforts to your bosom, and bestow Your needful counsel to our business, Which craves the instant use What a brazen-fac'd varlet art thou, to deny thou knowest me! Is it two days ago since I beat thee and tripp'd up thy heels before the King? [Draws his sword.] Draw, you rogue! for, though it be night, yet the moon shines Draw, you rascal! You come with letters against the King, and take Vanity the puppet's part against the royalty of her father A stonecutter or a painter could not have made him so ill, though he had been but two hours at the trade 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 He cannot flatter, he! An honest mind and plain- he must speak truth! An they will take it, so; if not, he's plain These kind of knaves I know which in this plainness Harbour more craft and more corrupter ends Than twenty silly-ducking observants That stretch their duties nicely 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 The country gives me proof and precedent Of Bedlam beggars, who, with roaring voices, Strike in their numb'd and mortified bare arms Pins, wooden pricks, nails, sprigs of rosemary; And with this horrible object, from low farms, Poor pelting villages, sheepcotes, and mills, Sometime with lunatic bans, sometime with prayers, Enforce their charity Fathers that wear rags Do make their children blind; But fathers that bear bags Shall see their children kind Let go thy hold when a great wheel runs down a hill, lest it break thy neck with following it; but the great one that goes upward, let him draw thee after 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 We are not ourselves When nature, being oppress'd, commands the mind To suffer with the body O Regan, she hath tied Sharp-tooth'd unkindness, like a vulture, here! [Lays his hand on his heart.] I can scarce speak to thee [rises] Never, Regan! She hath abated me of half my train; Look'd black upon me; struck me with her tongue, Most serpent-like, upon the very heart This is a slave, whose easy-borrowed pride Dwells in the fickle grace of her he follows If, till the expiration of your month, You will return and sojourn with my sister, Dismissing half your train, come then to me If only to go warm were gorgeous, Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st Which scarcely keeps thee warm If it be you that stirs these daughters' hearts Against their father, fool me not so much To bear it tamely; touch me with noble anger, And let not women's weapons, water drops, Stain my man's cheeks! No, you unnatural hags! I will have such revenges on you both That all the world shall- I will do such things- What they are yet, I know not; but they shall be The terrors of the earth! You think I'll weep O, sir, to wilful men The injuries that they themselves procure Must be their schoolmasters 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 What hath been seen, Either in snuffs and packings of the Dukes, Or the hard rein which both of them have borne Against the old kind King, or something deeper, Whereof, perchance, these are but furnishings- But, true it is, from France there comes a power Into this scattered kingdom, who already, Wise in our negligence, have secret feet In some of our best ports and are at point To show their open banner If on my credit you dare build so far To make your speed to Dover, you shall find Some that will thank you, making just report Of how unnatural and bemadding sorrow The King hath cause to plain That, when we have found the King (in which your pain That way, I'll this), he that first lights on him Holla the other Good nuncle, in, and ask thy daughters blessing! Here's a night pities nether wise men nor fools The codpiece that will house Before the head has any, The head and he shall louse The wrathful skies Gallow the very wanderers of the dark And make them keep their caves Let the great gods, That keep this dreadful pudder o'er our heads, Find out their enemies now Close pent-up guilts, Rive your concealing continents, and cry These dreadful summoners grace Alack, bareheaded? Gracious my lord, hard by here is a hovel; Some friendship will it lend you 'gainst the tempest Repose you there, whilst I to this hard house (More harder than the stones whereof 'tis rais'd, Which even but now, demanding after you, Denied me to come in) return, and force Their scanted courtesy [sings] He that has and a little tiny wit- With hey, ho, the wind and the rain- Must make content with his fortunes fit, For the rain it raineth every day These injuries the King now bears will be revenged home; there's part of a power already footed; we must incline to the King This seems a fair deserving, and must draw me That which my father loses- no less than all So 'tis to thee; But where the greater malady is fix'd, The lesser is scarce felt Thou'dst shun a bear; But if thy flight lay toward the raging sea, Thou'dst meet the bear i' th' mouth The tempest in my mind Doth from my senses take all feeling else Save what beats there 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 [within] Fathom and half, fathom and half! Poor Tom! Enter Fool [from the hovel] Bless thee from whirlwinds, star-blasting, and taking! Do poor Tom some charity, whom the foul fiend vexes 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 Why, thou wert better in thy grave than to answer with thy uncover'd body this extremity of the skies Thou ow'st the worm no silk, the beast no hide, the sheep no wool, the cat no perfume Now a little fire in a wild field were like an old lecher's heart- a small spark, all the rest on's body cold 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 Ah, that good Kent! He said it would be thus- poor banish'd man! Thou say'st the King grows mad Child Rowland to the dark tower came; His word was still Fie, foh, and fum! I smell the blood of a British man How malicious is my fortune that I must repent to be just! This is the letter he spoke of, which approves him an intelligent party to the advantages of France [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 Look, where he stands and glares! Want'st thou eyes at trial, madam? Come o'er the bourn, Bessy, to me Her boat hath a leak, And she must not speak Why she dares not come over to thee I here take my oath before this honourable assembly, she kicked the poor King her father 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 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 Take up, take up! And follow me, that will to some provision Give thee quick conduct 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 The revenges we are bound to take upon your traitorous father are not fit for your beholding Naughty lady, These hairs which thou dost ravish from my chin Will quicken, and accuse thee 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 It was he That made the overture of thy treasons to us; Who is too good to pity thee O my good lord, I have been your tenant, and your father's tenant, These fourscore years Bless thee, good man's son, from the foul fiend! Five fiends have been in poor Tom at once 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 Could my good brother suffer you to do it? A man, a prince, by him so benefited! If that the heavens do not their visible spirits Send quickly down to tame these vile offences, It will come, Humanity must perforce prey on itself, Like monsters of the deep Milk-liver'd man! That bear'st a cheek for blows, a head for wrongs; Who hast not in thy brows an eye discerning Thine honour from thy suffering; that not know'st Fools do those villains pity who are punish'd Ere they have done their mischief O, my good lord, the Duke of Cornwall 's dead, Slain by his servant, going to put out The other eye of Gloucester 'Twas he inform'd against him, And quit the house on purpose, that their punishment Might have the freer course That to provoke in him Are many simples operative, whose power Will close the eye of anguish All blest secrets, All you unpublish'd virtues of the earth, Spring with my tears! be aidant and remediate In the good man's distress! Seek, seek for him! Lest his ungovern'd rage dissolve the life That wants the means to lead it No blown ambition doth our arms incite, But love, dear love, and our ag'd father's right Edmund, I think, is gone, In pity of his misery, to dispatch His nighted life; moreover, to descry The strength o' th' enemy Why should she write to Edmund? Might not you Transport her purposes by word? Belike, Something- I know not what- I'll love thee much- Let me unseal the letter Fairies and gods Prosper it with thee! Go thou further off; Bid me farewell, and let me hear thee going Gone, sir, farewell.- And yet I know not how conceit may rob The treasury of life when life itself Yields to the theft 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 Therefore, thou happy father, Think that the clearest gods, who make them honours Of men's impossibility, have preserv'd thee Ha! Goneril with a white beard? They flatter'd me like a dog, and told me I had white hairs in my beard ere the black ones were there Let copulation thrive; for Gloucester's bastard son Was kinder to his father than my daughters Got 'tween the lawful sheets And the creature run from the cur? There thou mightst behold the great image of authority Get thee glass eyes And, like a scurvy politician, seem To see the things thou dost not The bounty and the benison of heaven To boot, and boot! Enter [Oswald the] Steward Wherefore, bold peasant, Dar'st thou support a publish'd traitor? Hence! Lest that th' infection of his fortune take Like hold on thee So should my thoughts be sever'd from my griefs, And woes by wrong imaginations lose The knowledge of themselves The great rage You see is kill'd in him; and yet it is danger To make him even o'er the time he has lost Know of the Duke if his last purpose hold, Or whether since he is advis'd by aught To change the course Combine together 'gainst the enemy; For these domestic and particular broils Are not the question here Wretched though I seem, I can produce a champion that will prove What is avouched there To both these sisters have I sworn my love; Each jealous of the other, as the stung Are of the adder Enter, with Drum and Colours, the Powers of France over the stage, Cordelia with her Father in her hand, and exeunt Good guard Until their greater pleasures first be known That are to censure them The goodyears shall devour 'em, flesh and fell, Ere they shall make us weep! We'll see 'em starv'd first 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 the friend hath lost his friend; And the best quarrels, in the heat, are curs'd By those that feel their sharpness He led our powers, Bore the commission of my place and person, The which immediacy may well stand up And call itself your brother General, Take thou my soldiers, prisoners, patrimony; Dispose of them, of me; the walls are thine If none appear to prove upon thy person Thy heinous, manifest, and many treasons, There is my pledge [throws down a glove]! I'll prove it on thy heart, Ere I taste bread, thou art in nothing less Than I have here proclaim'd thee Trust to thy single virtue; for thy soldiers, All levied in my name, have in my name Took their discharge (reads) 'If any man of quality or degree within the lists of the army will maintain upon Edmund, supposed Earl of Gloucester, that he is a manifold traitor, let him appear by the third sound of the trumpet Draw thy sword, That, if my speech offend a noble heart, Thy arm may do thee justice Back do I toss those treasons to thy head; With the hell-hated lie o'erwhelm thy heart; Which- for they yet glance by and scarcely bruise- This sword of mine shall give them instant way Where they shall rest for ever 'Tis past, and so am I.- But what art thou That hast this fortune on me? If thou'rt noble, I do forgive thee 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] Did I not, fellow? I have seen the day, with my good biting falchion I would have made them skip Do you see this? Look on her! look! her lips! Look there, look there! He dies [To Kent and Edgar] Friends of my soul, you twain Rule in this realm, and the gor'd state sustain Your oaths are pass'd; and now subscribe your names, That his own hand may strike his honour down That violates the smallest branch herein Fat paunches have lean pates; and dainty bits Make rich the ribs, but bankrupt quite the wits The grosser manner of these world's delights He throws upon the gross world's baser slaves; To love, to wealth, to pomp, I pine and die, With all these living in philosophy not to see a woman in that term, Which I hope well is not enrolled there; And one day in a week to touch no food, And but one meal on every day beside, The which I hope is not enrolled there; And then to sleep but three hours in the night And not be seen to wink of all the day- When I was wont to think no harm all night, And make a dark night too of half the day- Which I hope well is not enrolled there Why, all delights are vain; but that most vain Which, with pain purchas'd, doth inherit pain, As painfully to pore upon a book To seek the light of truth; while truth the while Doth falsely blind the eyesight of his look Study is like the heaven's glorious sun, That will not be deep-search'd with saucy looks; Small have continual plodders ever won, Save base authority from others' books 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 Berowne is like an envious sneaping frost That bites the first-born infants of the spring Well, say I am; why should proud summer boast Before the birds have any cause to sing? Why should I joy in any abortive birth? At Christmas I no more desire a rose Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled shows; But like of each thing that in season grows; So you, to study now it is too late, Climb o'er the house to unlock the little gate 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 If any man be seen to talk with a woman within the term of three years, he shall endure such public shame as the rest of the court can possibly devise.' This article, my liege, yourself must break; For well you know here comes in embassy The French king's daughter, with yourself to speak- A mild of grace and complete majesty- About surrender up of Aquitaine To her decrepit, sick, and bedrid father; Therefore this article is made in vain, Or vainly comes th' admired princess hither Suggestions are to other as to me; But I believe, although I seem so loath, I am the last that will last keep his oath Our court, you know, is haunted With a refined traveller of Spain, A man in all the world's new fashion planted, That hath a mint of phrases in his brain; One who the music of his own vain tongue Doth ravish like enchanting harmony; A man of complements, whom right and wrong Have chose as umpire of their mutiny This child of fancy, that Armado hight, For interim to our studies shall relate, In high-born words, the worth of many a knight From tawny Spain lost in the world's debate My Lord Berowne, see him delivered o'er; And go we, lords, to put in practice that Which each to other hath so strongly sworn 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 The world was very guilty of such a ballad some three ages since; but I think now 'tis not to be found; or if it were, it would neither serve for the writing nor the tune 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 Good Lord Boyet, my beauty, though but mean, Needs not the painted flourish of your praise Beauty is bought by judgment of the eye, Not utt'red by base sale of chapmen's tongues; I am less proud to hear you tell my worth Than you much willing to be counted wise In spending your wit in the praise of mine The roof of this court is too high to be yours, and welcome to the wide fields too base to be mine Madam, your father here doth intimate The payment of a hundred thousand crowns; Being but the one half of an entire sum Disbursed by my father in his wars But say that he or we, as neither have, Receiv'd that sum, yet there remains unpaid A hundred thousand more, in surety of the which, One part of Aquitaine is bound to us, Although not valued to the money's worth Boyet, you can produce acquittances For such a sum from special officers Of Charles his father So please your Grace, the packet is not come, Where that and other specialties are bound; To-morrow you shall have a sight of them Why, all his behaviours did make their retire To the court of his eye, peeping thorough desire Methought all his senses were lock'd in his eye, As jewels in crystal for some prince to buy; Who, tend'ring their own worth from where they were glass'd, Did point you to buy them, along as you pass'd These are complements, these are humours; these betray nice wenches, that would be betrayed without these; and make them men of note- do you note me?- that most are affected to these Sweet smoke of rhetoric! He reputes me a cannon; and the bullet, that's he; I shoot thee at the swain A most acute juvenal; volable and free of grace! By thy favour, sweet welkin, I must sigh in thy face; Most rude melancholy, valour gives thee place 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 I give thee thy liberty, set thee from durance; and, in lieu thereof, impose on thee nothing but this 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 Now mercy goes to kill, And shooting well is then accounted ill; Thus will I save my credit in the shoot Glory grows guilty of detested crimes, When, for fame's sake, for praise, an outward part, We bend to that the working of the heart; As I for praise alone now seek to spill The poor deer's blood that my heart means no ill An your waist, mistress, were as slender as my wit, One o' these maids' girdles for your waist should be fit 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 My lady goes to kill horns; but, if thou marry, Hang me by the neck, if horns that year miscarry A mark! O, mark but that mark! A mark, says my lady! Let the mark have a prick in't, to mete at, if it may be 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 Truly, Master Holofernes, the epithets are sweetly varied, like a scholar at the least; but, sir, I assure ye it was a buck of the first head For as it would ill become me to be vain, indiscreet, or a fool, So, were there a patch set on learning, to see him in a school And I say the polusion holds in the exchange; for the moon is never but a month old; and I say, beside, that 'twas a pricket that the Princess kill'd Sir Nathaniel, will you hear an extemporal epitaph on the death of the deer? And, to humour the ignorant, call the deer the Princess kill'd a pricket The dogs did yell; put el to sore, then sorel jumps from thicket- Or pricket sore, or else sorel; the people fall a-hooting These are begot in the ventricle of memory, nourish'd in the womb of pia mater, and delivered upon the mellowing of occasion Mehercle, if their sons be ingenious, they shall want no instruction; if their daughters be capable, I will put it to them; but, vir sapit qui pauca loquitur [Reads] 'If love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to love? Ah, never faith could hold, if not to beauty vowed! Though to myself forsworn, to thee I'll faithful prove; Those thoughts to me were oaks, to thee like osiers bowed 'To the snow-white hand of the most beauteous Lady Rosaline.' I will look again on the intellect of the letter, for the nomination of the party writing to the person written unto 'Your Ladyship's in all desired employment, Berowne.' Sir Nathaniel, this Berowne is one of the votaries with the King; and here he hath framed a letter to a sequent of the stranger queen's which accidentally, or by the way of progression, hath miscarried I do dine to-day at the father's of a certain pupil of mine; where, if, before repast, it shall please you to gratify the table with a grace, I will, on my privilege I have with the parents of the foresaid child or pupil, undertake your ben venuto; where I will prove those verses to be very unlearned, neither savouring of poetry, wit, nor invention 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 sweet clown, sweeter fool, sweetest lady! By the world, I would not care a pin if the other three were in Shot, by heaven! Proceed, sweet Cupid; thou hast thump'd him with thy bird-bolt under the left pap Do but behold the tears that swell in me, And they thy glory through my grief will show not by two that I know; Thou makest the triumviry, the corner-cap of society, The shape of Love's Tyburn that hangs up simplicity [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 Vows are but breath, and breath a vapour is; Then thou, fair sun, which on my earth dost shine, Exhal'st this vapour-vow; in thee it is [Reads] 'On a day-alack the day!- Love, whose month is ever May, Spied a blossom passing fair Playing in the wanton air Through the velvet leaves the wind, All unseen, can passage find; That the lover, sick to death, Wish'd himself the heaven's breath [Descending] Now step I forth to whip hypocrisy, Ah, good my liege, I pray thee pardon me 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 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 O vile! Then, as she goes, what upward lies The street should see as she walk'd overhead To fast, to study, and to see no woman- Flat treason 'gainst the kingly state of youth They are the ground, the books, the academes, From whence doth spring the true Promethean fire Why, universal plodding poisons up The nimble spirits in the arteries, As motion and long-during action tires The sinewy vigour of the traveller 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 A lover's ear will hear the lowest sound, When the suspicious head of theft is stopp'd Advance your standards, and upon them, lords; Pell-mell, down with them! be first advis'd, In conflict, that you get the sun of them O, an the heavens were so pleased that thou wert but my bastard, what a joyful father wouldst thou make me! Go to; thou hast it ad dunghill, at the fingers' ends, as they say Sir, it is the King's most sweet pleasure and affection to congratulate the Princess at her pavilion, in the posteriors of this day; which the rude multitude call the afternoon The posterior of the day, most generous sir, is liable, congruent, and measurable, for the afternoon Now, understanding that the curate and your sweet self are good at such eruptions and sudden breaking-out of mirth, as it were, I have acquainted you withal, to the end to crave your assistance Sir Nathaniel, as concerning some entertainment of time, some show in the posterior of this day, to be rend'red by our assistance, the King's command, and this most gallant, illustrate, and learned gentleman, before the Princess- I say none so fit as to present the Nine Worthies Joshua, yourself; myself, Alexander; this gallant gentleman, Judas Maccabaeus; this swain, because of his great limb or joint, shall pass Pompey the Great; the page, Hercules he is not quantity enough for that Worthy's thumb; he is not so big as the end of his club 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 Nay, I have verses too, I thank Berowne; The numbers true, and, were the numb'ring too, I were the fairest goddess on the ground Saint Dennis to Saint Cupid! What are they That charge their breath against us? Say, scout, say 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 'Thus must thou speak' and 'thus thy body bear,' And ever and anon they made a doubt Presence majestical would put him out; 'For' quoth the King 'an angel shalt thou see; Yet fear not thou, but speak audaciously.' The boy replied 'An angel is not evil; I should have fear'd her had she been a devil.' With that all laugh'd, and clapp'd him on the shoulder, Making the bold wag by their praises bolder 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 With that they all did tumble on the ground, With such a zealous laughter, so profound, That in this spleen ridiculous appears, To check their folly, passion's solemn tears Their purpose is to parley, court, and dance; And every one his love-feat will advance Unto his several mistress; which they'll know By favours several which they did bestow And change you favours too; so shall your loves Woo contrary, deceiv'd by these removes 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 If they do speak our language, 'tis our will That some plain man recount their purposes Ask them how many inches Is in one mile? If they have measured many, The measure, then, of one is eas'ly told Nay, then, two treys, an if you grow so nice, Metheglin, wort, and malmsey; well run dice! There's half a dozen sweets Immediately they will again be here In their own shapes; for it can never be They will digest this harsh indignity Good madam, if by me you'll be advis'd, Let's mock them still, as well known as disguis'd He is wit's pedlar, and retails his wares At wakes, and wassails, meetings, markets, fairs; And we that sell by gross, the Lord doth know, Have not the grace to grace it with such show We four indeed confronted were with four In Russian habit; here they stayed an hour And talk'd apace; and in that hour, my lord, They did not bless us with one happy word I dare not call them fools; but this I think, When they are thirsty, fools would fain have drink There, then, that vizard; that superfluous case That hid the worse and show'd the better face And, to begin, wench- so God help me, law!- My love to thee is sound, sans crack or flaw 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 Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight zany, Some mumble-news, some trencher-knight, some Dick, That smiles his cheek in years and knows the trick To make my lady laugh when she's dispos'd, Told our intents before; which once disclos'd, The ladies did change favours; and then we, Following the signs, woo'd but the sign of she We are shame-proof, my lord, and 'tis some policy To have one show worse than the King's and his company That sport best pleases that doth least know how; Where zeal strives to content, and the contents Dies in the zeal of that which it presents Their form confounded makes most form in mirth, When great things labouring perish in their birth 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 The sweet war-man is dead and rotten; sweet chucks, beat not the bones of the buried; when he breathed, he was a man I will not fight with a pole, like a Northern man; I'll slash; I'll do it by the sword Honest plain words best pierce the ear of grief; And by these badges understand the King 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 Your oath I will not trust; but go with speed To some forlorn and naked hermitage, Remote from all the pleasures of the world; There stay until the twelve celestial signs Have brought about the annual reckoning If this austere insociable life Change not your offer made in heat of blood, If frosts and fasts, hard lodging and thin weeds, Nip not the gaudy blossoms of your love, But that it bear this trial, and last love, Then, at the expiration of the year, Come, challenge me, challenge me by these deserts; And, by this virgin palm now kissing thine, I will be thine; and, till that instant, shut My woeful self up in a mournful house, Raining the tears of lamentation For the remembrance of my father's death If this, or more than this, I would deny, To flatter up these powers of mine with rest, The sudden hand of death close up mine eye! Hence hermit then, my heart is in thy breast You must he purged too, your sins are rack'd; You are attaint with faults and perjury; Therefore, if you my favour mean to get, A twelvemonth shall you spend, and never rest, But seek the weary beds of people sick Come when the King doth to my lady come; Then, if I have much love, I'll give you some Studies my lady? Mistress, look on me; Behold the window of my heart, mine eye, What humble suit attends thy answer there Oft have I heard of you, my Lord Berowne, Before I saw you; and the world's large tongue Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks, Full of comparisons and wounding flouts, Which you on all estates will execute That lie within the mercy of your wit To weed this wormwood from your fruitful brain, And therewithal to win me, if you please, Without the which I am not to be won, You shall this twelvemonth term from day to day Visit the speechless sick, and still converse With groaning wretches; and your task shall be, With all the fierce endeavour of your wit, To enforce the pained impotent to smile Enter All This side is Hiems, Winter; this Ver, the Spring- the one maintained by the Owl, th' other by the Cuckoo 'Cuckoo; Cuckoo, cuckoo'- O word of fear, Unpleasing to a married ear! WINTER When icicles hang by the wall, And Dick the shepherd blows his nail, And Tom bears logs into the hall, And milk comes frozen home in pail, When blood is nipp'd, and ways be foul, Then nightly sings the staring owl When all aloud the wind doth blow, And coughing drowns the parson's saw, And birds sit brooding in the snow, And Marian's nose looks red and raw, When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, Then nightly sings the staring owl What bloody man is that? He can report, As seemeth by his plight, of the revolt The newest state Doubtful it stood, As two spent swimmers that do cling together And choke their art If I say sooth, I must report they were As cannons overcharged with double cracks, So they Doubly redoubled strokes upon the foe Norway himself, with terrible numbers, Assisted by that most disloyal traitor The Thane of Cawdor, began a dismal conflict, Till that Bellona's bridegroom, lapp'd in proof, Confronted him with self-comparisons, Point against point rebellious, arm 'gainst arm, Curbing his lavish spirit; and, to conclude, The victory fell on us I myself have all the other, And the very ports they blow, All the quarters that they know I' the shipman's card 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 We are sent To give thee, from our royal master, thanks; Only to herald thee into his sight, Not pay thee And for an earnest of a greater honor, He bade me, from him, call thee Thane of Cawdor [Aside to Macbeth.] That, trusted home, Might yet enkindle you unto the crown, Besides the Thane of Cawdor [Aside.] Two truths are told, As happy prologues to the swelling act Of the imperial theme-I thank you, gentlemen New honors come upon him, Like our strange garments, cleave not to their mould But with the aid of use Kind gentlemen, your pains Are register'd where every day I turn The leaf to read them Think upon what hath chanced, and at more time, The interim having weigh'd it, let us speak Our free hearts each to other 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 The eye wink at the hand; yet let that be Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see When I burned in desire to question them further, they made themselves air, into which they vanished Whiles I stood rapt in the wonder of it, came missives from the King, who all-hailed me 'Thane of Cawdor'; by which title, before, these weird sisters saluted me and referred me to the coming on of time with 'Hail, King that shalt be!' This have I thought good to deliver thee, my dearest partner of greatness, that thou mightst not lose the dues of rejoicing, by being ignorant of what greatness is promised thee Thou wouldst be great; Art not without ambition, but without The illness should attend it Thou'ldst have, great Glamis, That which cries, "Thus thou must do, if thou have it; And that which rather thou dost fear to do Than wishest should be undone." Hie thee hither, That I may pour my spirits in thine ear, And chastise with the valor of my tongue All that impedes thee from the golden round, Which fate and metaphysical aid doth seem To have thee crown'd withal Great Glamis! Worthy Cawdor! Greater than both, by the all-hail hereafter! Thy letters have transported me beyond This ignorant present, and I feel now The future in the instant To beguile the time, Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye, Your hand, your tongue; look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under it No jutty, frieze, Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird Hath made his pendant bed and procreant cradle; Where they most breed and haunt, I have observed The air is delicate If the assassination Could trammel up the consequence, and catch, With his surcease, success; that but this blow Might be the be-all and the end-all -here, But here, upon this bank and shoal of time, We'ld jump the life to come But in these cases We still have judgement here, that we but teach Bloody instructions, which being taught return To plague the inventor First, as I am his kinsman and his subject, Strong both against the deed; then, as his host, Who should against his murtherer shut the door, Not bear the knife myself Besides, this Duncan Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been So clear in his great office, that his virtues Will plead like angels trumpet-tongued against The deep damnation of his taking-off, And pity, like a naked new-born babe Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubin horsed Upon the sightless couriers of the air, Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye, That tears shall drown the wind I have no spur To prick the sides of my intent, but only Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself And falls on the other What beast wast then That made you break this enterprise to me? When you durst do it, then you were a man, And, to be more than what you were, you would Be so much more the man I think not of them; Yet, when we can entreat an hour to serve, We would spend it in some words upon that business, If you would grant the time Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee That which hath made them drunk hath made me bold; What hath quench'd them hath given me fire Hark! Peace! It was the owl that shriek'd, the fatal bellman, Which gives the stern'st good night I have drugg'd their possets That death and nature do contend about them, Whether they live or die There's one did laugh in 's sleep, and one cried, "Murther!" That they did wake each other One cried, "God bless us!" and "Amen" the other, As they had seen me with these hangman's hands If he do bleed, I'll gild the faces of the grooms withal, For it must seem their guilt Whence is that knocking? How is't with me, when every noise appals me? What hands are here? Ha, they pluck out mine eyes! Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood Clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather The multitudinous seas incarnadine, Making the green one red Here's a knocking indeed! If a man were porter of Hell Gate, he should have old turning the key 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 Where we lay, Our chimneys were blown down, and, as they say, Lamentings heard i' the air, strange screams of death, And prophesying with accents terrible Of dire combustion and confused events New hatch'd to the woeful time Most sacrilegious murther hath broke ope The Lord's anointed temple and stole thence The life o' the building Murther and treason! Banquo and Donalbain! Malcolm, awake! Shake off this downy sleep, death's counterfeit, And look on death itself! Up, up, and see The great doom's image! Malcolm! Banquo! As from your graves rise up, and walk like sprites To countenance this horror! Ring the bell Had I but died an hour before this chance, I had lived a blessed time, for from this instant There's nothing serious in mortality The spring, the head, the fountain of your blood Is stopped, the very source of it is stopp'd Their hands and faces were all badged with blood; So were their daggers, which unwiped we found Upon their pillows And when we have our naked frailties hid, That suffer in exposure, let us meet And question this most bloody piece of work To know it further Where we are There's daggers in men's smiles; the near in blood, The nearer bloody This murtherous shaft that's shot Hath not yet lighted, and our safest way Is to avoid the aim Malcolm and Donalbain, the King's two sons, Are stol'n away and fled, which puts upon them Suspicion of the deed 'Gainst nature still! Thriftless ambition, that wilt ravin up Thine own life's means! Then 'tis most like The sovereignty will fall upon Macbeth Carried to Colmekill, The sacred storehouse of his predecessors And guardian of their bones He chid the sisters When first they put the name of King upon me And bade them speak to him; then prophet-like They hail'd him father to a line of kings If't be so, For Banquo's issue have I filed my mind, For them the gracious Duncan have I murther'd, Put rancors in the vessel of my peace Only for them, and mine eternal jewel Given to the common enemy of man, To make them kings -the seed of Banquo kings! Rather than so, come, Fate, into the list, And champion me to the utterance! Who's there? Re-enter Attendant, with two Murtherers How you were borne in hand, how cross'd, the instruments, Who wrought with them, and all things else that might To half a soul and to a notion crazed Say, "Thus did Banquo." FIRST MURTHERER Do you find Your patience so predominant in your nature, That you can let this go? Are you so gospel'd, To pray for this good man and for his issue, Whose heavy hand hath bow'd you to the grave And beggar'd yours forever? FIRST MURTHERER Ay, in the catalogue ye go for men, As hounds and greyhounds, mongrels, spaniels, curs, Shoughs, waterrugs, and demi-wolves are clept All by the name of dogs 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 I am one, my liege, Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world Have so incensed that I am reckless what I do to spite the world Treason has done his worst; nor steel, nor poison, Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing, Can touch him further Unsafe the while, that we Must lave our honors in these flattering streams, And make our faces vizards to our hearts, Disguising what they are Come, seeling night, Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day, And with thy bloody and invisible hand Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond Which keeps me pale! Light thickens, and the crow Makes wing to the rooky wood; Good things of day begin to droop and drowse, Whiles night's black agents to their preys do rouse He needs not our mistrust, since he delivers Our offices and what we have to do To the direction just The west yet glimmers with some streaks of day; Now spurs the lated traveler apace To gain the timely inn, and near approaches The subject of our watch Then 'tis he; the rest That are within the note of expectation Already are i' the court Almost a mile, but he does usually- So all men do -from hence to the palace gate Make it their walk I had else been perfect, Whole as the marble, founded as the rock, As broad and general as the casing air; But now I am cabin'd, cribb'd, confin'd, bound in To saucy doubts and fears -But Banquo's safe? MURTHERER Safe in a ditch he bides, With twenty trenched gashes on his head, The least a death to nature There the grown serpent lies; the worm that's fled Hath nature that in time will venom breed, No teeth for the present If charnel houses and our graves must send Those that we bury back, our monuments Shall be the maws of kites Blood hath been shed ere now, i' the olden time, Ere humane statute purged the gentle weal; Ay, and since too, murthers have been perform'd Too terrible for the ear Stones have been known to move and trees to speak; Augures and understood relations have By maggot pies and choughs and rooks brought forth The secret'st man of blood Strange things I have in head that will to hand, Which must be acted ere they may be scann'd 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 So that, I say, He has borne all things well; and I do think That, had he Duncan's sons under his key- As, an't please heaven, he shall not -they should find What 'twere to kill a father; so should Fleance Toad, that under cold stone Days and nights has thirty-one Swelter'd venom sleeping got, Boil thou first i' the charmed pot 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 Pour in sow's blood that hath eaten Her nine farrow; grease that's sweaten From the murtherer's gibbet throw Into the flame 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 Infected be the 'air whereon they ride, And damn'd all those that trust them! I did hear The galloping of horse From this moment The very firstlings of my heart shall be The firstlings of my hand Wisdom? To leave his wife, to leave his babes, His mansion, and his titles, in a place From whence himself does fly? He loves us not; He wants the natural touch; for the poor wren, The most diminutive of birds, will fight, Her young ones in her nest, against the owl But for your husband, He is noble, wise, Judicious, and best knows The fits o' the season Then the liars and swearers are fools, for there are liars and swearers enow to beat the honest men and hang up them If he were dead, you'ld weep for him; if you would not, it were a good sign that I should quickly have a new father Why then, alas, Do I put up that womanly defense, To say I have done no harm -What are these faces? Enter Murtherers Exit Lady Macduff, crying "Murther!" Exeunt Murtherers, following her What I believe, I'll wall; What know, believe; and what I can redress, As I shall find the time to friend, I will Bleed, bleed, poor country! Great tyranny, lay thou thy basis sure, For goodness dare not check thee 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 You may Convey your pleasures in a spacious plenty And yet seem cold, the time you may so hoodwink With this there grows In my most ill-composed affection such A stanchless avarice that, were I King, I should cut off the nobles for their lands, Desire his jewels and this other's house, And my more-having would be as a sauce To make me hunger more, that I should forge Quarrels unjust against the good and loyal, Destroying them for wealth This avarice Sticks deeper, grows with more pernicious root Than summer-seeming lust, and it hath been The sword of our slain kings Their malady convinces The great assay of art, but at his touch, Such sanctity hath heaven given his hand, They presently amend How he solicits heaven, Himself best knows; but strangely-visited people, All swol'n and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye, The mere despair of surgery, he cures, Hanging a golden stamp about their necks Put on with holy prayers; and 'tis spoken, To the succeeding royalty he leaves The healing benediction Alas, poor country, Almost afraid to know itself! It cannot Be call'd our mother, but our grave The dead man's knell Is there scarce ask'd for who, and good men's lives Expire before the flowers in their caps, Dying or ere they sicken When I came hither to transport the tidings, Which I have heavily borne, there ran a rumor Of many worthy fellows that were out, Which was to my belief witness'd the rather, For that I saw the tyrant's power afoot Now is the time of help; your eye in Scotland Would create soldiers, make our women fight, To doff their dire distresses Would I could answer This comfort with the like! But I have words That would be howl'd out in the desert air, Where hearing should not latch them Let not your ears despise my tongue forever, Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound That ever yet they heard To relate the manner Were, on the quarry of these murther'd deer, To add the death of you Did heaven look on, And would not take their part? Sinful Macduff, They were all struck for thee! Naught that I am, Not for their own demerits, but for mine, Fell slaughter on their souls Hark, she speaks! I will set down what comes from her, to satisfy my remembrance the more strongly Unnatural deeds Do breed unnatural troubles; infected minds To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets Revenges burn in them, for their dear causes Would to the bleeding and the grim alarm Excite the mortified man There is Seward's son And many unrough youths that even now Protest their first of manhood Some say he's mad; others, that lesser hate him, Do call it valiant fury; but, for certain, He cannot buckle his distemper'd cause Within the belt of rule 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 Were they not forced with those that should be ours, We might have met them dareful, beard to beard, And beat them backward home Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow Creeps in this petty pace from day to day To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death 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 As I did stand my watch upon the hill, I look'd toward Birnam, and anon, methought, The Wood began to move Arm, arm, and out! If this which he avouches does appear, There is nor flying hence nor tarrying here YOUNG SIWARD O Thou liest, abhorred tyrant; with my sword I'll prove the lie thou speak'st Either thou, Macbeth, Or else my sword, with an unbatter'd edge, I sheathe again undeeded Why should I play the Roman fool and die On mine own sword? Whiles I see lives, the gashes Do better upon them My voice is in my sword, thou bloodier villain Than terms can give thee out! They fight I will not yield, To kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feet, And to be baited with the rabble's curse Though Birnam Wood be come to Dunsinane, And thou opposed, being of no woman born, Yet I will try the last Why then, God's soldier be he! Had I as many sons as I have hairs, I would not wish them to a fairer death 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 Thyself and thy belongings Are not thine own so proper as to waste Thyself upon thy virtues, they on thee Heaven doth with us as we with torches do, Not light them for themselves; for if our virtues Did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike As if we had them not No more evasion! We have with a leaven'd and prepared choice Proceeded to you; therefore take your honours I shall desire you, sir, to give me leave To have free speech with you; and it concerns me To look into the bottom of my place Thou conclud'st like the sanctimonious pirate that went to sea with the Ten Commandments, but scrap'd one out of the table There's not a soldier of us all that, in the thanksgiving before meat, do relish the petition well that prays for peace And thou the velvet; thou art good velvet; thou'rt a three-pil'd piece, I warrant thee I will, out of thine own confession, learn to begin thy health; but, whilst I live, forget to drink after thee Thus, what with the war, what with the sweat, what with the gallows, and what with poverty, I am custom-shrunk They shall stand for seed; they had gone down too, but that a wise burgher put in for them Thus can the demigod Authority Make us pay down for our offence by weight The words of heaven 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 You know the lady; she is fast my wife, Save that we do the denunciation lack Of outward order; this we came not to, Only for propagation of a dow'r Remaining in the coffer of her friends This day my sister should the cloister enter, And there receive her approbation; Acquaint her with the danger of my state; Implore her, in my voice, that she make friends To the strict deputy; bid herself assay him 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 Yes, truly; I speak not as desiring more, But rather wishing a more strict restraint Upon the sisterhood, the votarists of Saint Clare 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 Go to Lord Angelo, And let him learn to know, when maidens sue, Men give like gods; but when they weep and kneel, All their petitions are as freely theirs As they themselves would owe them 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 I not deny The jury, passing on the prisoner's life, May in the sworn twelve have a thief or two Guiltier than him they try See that Claudio Be executed by nine to-morrow morning; Bring him his confessor; let him be prepar'd; For that's the utmost of his pilgrimage Come, bring them away; if these be good people in a commonweal that do nothing but use their abuses in common houses, I know no law; bring them away If it please your honour, I know not well what they are; but precise villains they are, that I am sure of, and void of all profanation in the world that good Christians ought to have 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 Sir, we had but two in the house, which at that very distant time stood, as it were, in a fruit dish, a dish of some three pence; your honours have seen such dishes; they are not China dishes, but very good dishes This will last out a night in Russia, When nights are longest there; I'll take my leave, And leave you to the hearing of the cause, Hoping you'll find good cause to whip them all O thou caitiff! O thou varlet! O thou wicked Hannibal! I respected with her before I was married to her! If ever I was respected with her, or she with me, let not your worship think me the poor Duke's officer Truly, officer, because he hath some offences in him that thou wouldst discover if thou couldst, let him continue in his courses till thou know'st what they are Troth, and your bum is the greatest thing about you; so that, in the beastliest sense, you are Pompey the Great If your worship will take order for the drabs and the knaves, you need not to fear the bawds I thank your worship for your good counsel; [Aside] but I shall follow it as the flesh and fortune shall better determine Whip me? No, no; let carman whip his jade; The valiant heart's not whipt out of his trade Exit SERVANT See you the fornicatress be remov'd; Let her have needful but not lavish means; There shall be order for't 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 Alas! Alas! Why, all the souls that were were forfeit once; And He that might the vantage best have took Found out the remedy Now 'tis awake, Takes note of what is done, and, like a prophet, Looks in a glass that shows what future evils- Either now or by remissness new conceiv'd, And so in progress to be hatch'd and born- Are now to have no successive degrees, But here they live to end I show it most of all when I show justice; For then I pity those I do not know, Which a dismiss'd offence would after gall, And do him right that, answering one foul wrong, Lives not to act another Merciful Heaven, Thou rather, with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt, Splits the unwedgeable and gnarled oak Than the soft myrtle But man, proud man, Dress'd in a little brief authority, Most ignorant of what he's most assur'd, His glassy essence, like an angry ape, Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven As makes the angels weep; who, with our speens, Would all themselves laugh mortal Because authority, though it err like others, Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself That skins the vice o' th' top Go to your bosom, Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know That's like my brother's fault If it confess A natural guiltiness such as is his, Let it not sound a thought upon your tongue Against my brother's life Can it be That modesty may more betray our sense Than woman's lightness? Having waste ground enough, Shall we desire to raze the sanctuary, And pitch our evils there? O, fie, fie, fie! What dost thou, or what art thou, Angelo? Dost thou desire her foully for those things That make her good? O, let her brother live! Thieves for their robbery have authority When judges steal themselves Bound by my charity and my blest order, I come to visit the afflicted spirits Here in the prison Do me the common right To let me see them, and to make me know The nature of their crimes, that I may minister To them accordingly The state whereon I studied Is, like a good thing being often read, Grown sere and tedious; yea, my gravity, Wherein- let no man hear me- I take pride, Could I with boot change for an idle plume Which the air beats for vain Ay, as the glasses where they view themselves, Which are as easy broke as they make forms Be that you are, That is, a woman; if you be more, you're none; If you be one, as you are well express'd By all external warrants, show it now By putting on the destin'd livery I have no tongue but one; gentle, my lord, Let me intreat you speak the former language I know your virtue hath a license in't, Which seems a little fouler than it is, To pluck on others Ha! little honour to be much believ'd, And most pernicious purpose! Seeming, seeming! I will proclaim thee, Angelo, look for't To whom should I complain? Did I tell this, Who would believe me? O perilous mouths That bear in them one and the self-same tongue Either of condemnation or approof, Bidding the law make curtsy to their will; Hooking both right and wrong to th' appetite, To follow as it draws! I'll to my brother Thou art not certain; For thy complexion shifts to strange effects, After the moon 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 Friend hast thou none; For thine own bowels which do call thee sire, The mere effusion of thy proper loins, Do curse the gout, serpigo, and the rheum, For ending thee no sooner What's yet in this That bears the name of life? Yet in this life Lie hid moe thousand deaths; yet death we fear, That makes these odds all even Has he affections in him That thus can make him bite the law by th' nose When he would force it? Sure it is no sin; Or of the deadly seven it is the least I have no superfluous leisure; my stay must be stolen out of other affairs; but I will attend you awhile I am confessor to Angelo, and I know this to be true; therefore prepare yourself to death I am now going to resolve him; I had rather my brother die by the law than my son should be unlawfully born Let me hear you speak farther; I have spirit to do anything that appears not foul in the truth of my spirit Left her in her tears, and dried not one of them with his comfort; swallowed his vows whole, pretending in her discoveries of dishonour; in few, bestow'd her on her own lamentation, which she yet wears for his sake; and he, a marble to her tears, is washed with them, but relents not Go you to Angelo; answer his requiring with a plausible obedience; agree with his demands to the point; only refer yourself to this advantage first, that your stay with him may not be long; that the time may have all shadow and silence in it; and the place answer to convenience If the encounter acknowledge itself hereafter, it may compel him to her recompense; and here, by this, is your brother saved, your honour untainted, the poor Mariana advantaged, and the corrupt deputy scaled If you think well to carry this as you may, the doubleness of the benefit defends the deceit from reproof I will presently to Saint Luke's; there, at the moated grange, resides this dejected Mariana Marry, sir, he hath offended the law; and, sir, we take him to be a thief too, sir, for we have found upon him, sir, a strange picklock, which we have sent to the deputy It was a mad fantastical trick of him to steal from the state and usurp the beggary he was never born to 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 This ungenitur'd agent will unpeople the province with continency; sparrows must not build in his house-eaves because they are lecherous No might nor greatness in mortality Can censure scape; back-wounding calumny The whitest virtue strikes Double and treble admonition, and still forfeit in the same kind! This would make mercy swear and play the tyrant You have paid the heavens your function, and the prisoner the very debt of your calling He hath a garden circummur'd with brick, Whose western side is with a vineyard back'd; And to that vineyard is a planched gate That makes his opening with this bigger key; This other doth command a little door Which from the vineyard to the garden leads I have ta'en a due and wary note upon't; With whispering and most guilty diligence, In action all of precept, he did show me The way twice o'er No, none, but only a repair i' th' dark; And that I have possess'd him my most stay Can be but brief; for I have made him know I have a servant comes with me along, That stays upon me; whose persuasion is I come about my brother Thousand escapes of wit Make thee the father of their idle dream, And rack thee in their fancies To bring you thus together 'tis no sin, Sith that the justice of your title to him Doth flourish the deceit Exeunt ABHORSON and POMPEY Th' one has my pity; not a jot the other, Being a murderer, though he were my brother As fast lock'd up in sleep as guiltless labour When it lies starkly in the traveller's bones Not so, not so; his life is parallel'd Even with the stroke and line of his great justice; He doth with holy abstinence subdue That in himself which he spurs on his pow'r To qualify in others Exit PROVOST This is a gentle provost; seldom when The steeled gaoler is the friend of men [Knocking within] How now, what noise! That spirit's possess'd with haste That wounds th' unsisting postern with these strokes Besides, upon the very siege of justice, Lord Angelo hath to the public ear Profess'd the contrary My lord hath sent you this note; and by me this further charge, that you swerve not from the smallest article of it, neither in time, matter, or other circumstance When vice makes mercy, mercy's so extended That for the fault's love is th' offender friended Claudio, whom here you have warrant to execute, is no greater forfeit to the law than Angelo who hath sentenc'd him The contents of this is the return of the Duke; you shall anon over-read it at your pleasure, where you shall find within these two days he will be here Truly, sir, I would desire you to clap into your prayers; for, look you, the warrant's come O, Sir, you must; and therefore I beseech you Look forward on the journey you shall go Not a word; if you have anything to say to me, come to my ward; for thence will not I to-day This nor hurts him nor profits you a jot; Forbear it, therefore; give your cause to heaven Already he hath carried Notice to Escalus and Angelo, Who do prepare to meet him at the gates, There to give up their pow'r Sir, the Duke is marvellous little beholding to your reports; but the best is, he lives not in them to have a dispatch of complaints; and to deliver us from devices hereafter, which shall then have no power to stand against us A deflow'red maid! And by an eminent body that enforc'd The law against it! But that her tender shame Will not proclaim against her maiden loss, How might she tongue me! Yet reason dares her no; For my authority bears a so credent bulk That no particular scandal once can touch But it confounds the breather Twice have the trumpets sounded; The generous and gravest citizens Have hent the gates, and very near upon The Duke is ent'ring; therefore, hence, away 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 I came to her from Claudio, and desir'd her To try her gracious fortune with Lord Angelo For her poor brother's pardon But the next morn betimes, His purpose surfeiting, he sends a warrant For my poor brother's head I do perceive These poor informal women are no more But instruments of some more mightier member That sets them on I for a while will leave you; But stir not you till you have well determin'd Upon these slanderers Come, sir; did you set these women on to slander Lord Angelo? They have confess'd you did Respect to your great place! and let the devil Be sometime honour'd for his burning throne! Where is the Duke? 'Tis he should hear me speak But, O, poor souls, Come you to seek the lamb here of the fox, Good night to your redress! Is the Duke gone? Then is your cause gone too My business in this state Made me a looker-on here in Vienna, Where I have seen corruption boil and bubble Till it o'errun the stew Then, good Prince, No longer session hold upon my shame, But let my trial be mine own confession; Immediate sentence then, and sequent death, Is all the grace I beg Then, Angelo, thy fault's thus manifested, Which, though thou wouldst deny, denies thee vantage [Kneeling] Most bounteous sir, Look, if it please you, on this man condemn'd, As if my brother liv'd My brother had but justice, In that he did the thing for which he died; For Angelo, His act did not o'ertake his bad intent, And must be buried but as an intent That perish'd by the way [To ISABELLA] If he be like your brother, for his sake Is he pardon'd; and for your lovely sake, Give me your hand and say you will be mine, He is my brother too Thanks, good friend Escalus, for thy much goodness; There's more behind that is more gratulate 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 Your mind is tossing on the ocean; There where your argosies, with portly sail- Like signiors and rich burghers on the flood, Or as it were the pageants of the sea- Do overpeer the petty traffickers, That curtsy to them, do them reverence, As they fly by them with their woven wings Believe me, 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 Some that will evermore peep through their eyes, And laugh like parrots at a bag-piper; And other of such vinegar aspect That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable You look not well, Signior Antonio; You have too much respect upon the world; They lose it that do buy it with much care Why should a man whose blood is warm within Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster, Sleep when he wakes, and creep into the jaundice By being peevish? I tell thee what, Antonio- I love thee, and 'tis my love that speaks- There are a sort of men whose visages Do cream and mantle like a standing pond, And do a wilful stillness entertain, With purpose to be dress'd in an opinion Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit; As who should say 'I am Sir Oracle, And when I ope my lips let no dog bark.' O my Antonio, I do know of these That therefore only are reputed wise For saying nothing; when, I am very sure, If they should speak, would almost damn those ears Which, hearing them, would call their brothers fools Well, keep me company but two years moe, Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own tongue you shall seek all day ere you find them, and when you have them they are not worth the search To you, Antonio, I owe the most, in money and in love; And from your love I have a warranty To unburden all my plots and purposes How to get clear of all the debts I owe 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 Thou know'st that all my fortunes are at sea; Neither have I money nor commodity To raise a present sum; therefore go forth, Try what my credit can in Venice do; That shall be rack'd, even to the uttermost, To furnish thee to Belmont to fair Portia It is a good divine that follows his own instructions; I can easier teach twenty what were good to be done than to be one of the twenty to follow mine own teaching The brain may devise laws for the blood, but a hot temper leaps o'er a cold decree; such a hare is madness the youth, to skip o'er the meshes of good counsel the cripple O me, the word 'choose'! I may neither choose who I would nor refuse who I dislike; so is the will of a living daughter curb'd by the will of a dead father Ay, that's a colt indeed, for he doth nothing but talk of his horse; and he makes it a great appropriation to his own good parts that he can shoe him himself; I am much afear'd my lady his mother play'd false with a smith I had rather be married to a death's-head with a bone in his mouth than to either of these In truth, I know it is a sin to be a mocker, but he- why, he hath a horse better than the Neapolitan's, a better bad habit of frowning than the Count Palatine; he is every man in no man he hath neither Latin, French, nor Italian, and you will come into the court and swear that I have a poor pennyworth in the English 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 Very vilely in the morning when he is sober; and most vilely in the afternoon when he is drunk You need not fear, lady, the having any of these lords; they have acquainted me with their determinations, which is indeed to return to their home, and to trouble you with no more suit, unless you may be won by some other sort than your father's imposition, depending on the caskets If I live to be as old as Sibylla, I will die as chaste as Diana, unless I be obtained by the manner of my father's will I am glad this parcel of wooers are so reasonable; for there is not one among them but I dote on his very absence, and I pray God grant them a fair departure True, madam; he, of all the men that ever my foolish eyes look'd upon, was the best deserving a fair lady If I could bid the fifth welcome with so good heart as I can bid the other four farewell, I should be glad of his approach; if he have the condition of a saint and the complexion of a devil, I had rather he should shrive me than wive me [Aside] How like a fawning publican he looks! I hate him for he is a Christian; But more for that in low simplicity He lends out money gratis, and brings down The rate of usance here with us in Venice But soft! how many months Do you desire? [To ANTONIO] Rest you fair, good signior; Your worship was the last man in our mouths 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 An evil soul producing holy witness Is like a villain with a smiling cheek, A goodly apple rotten at the heart If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not As to thy friends- for when did friendship take A breed for barren metal of his friend?- But lend it rather to thine enemy, Who if he break thou mayst with better face Exact the penalty Content, in faith; I'll seal to such a bond, And say there is much kindness in the Jew Why, fear not, man; I will not forfeit it; Within these two months- that's a month before This bond expires- I do expect return Of thrice three times the value of this bond O father Abram, what these Christians are, Whose own hard dealings teaches them suspect The thoughts of others! Pray you, tell me this In terms of choice I am not solely led By nice direction of a maiden's eyes; Besides, the lott'ry of my destiny Bars me the right of voluntary choosing By this scimitar, That slew the Sophy and a Persian prince, That won three fields of Sultan Solyman, I would o'erstare the sternest eyes that look, Outbrave the heart most daring on the earth, Pluck the young sucking cubs from the she-bear, Yea, mock the lion when 'a roars for prey, To win thee, lady 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 You must take your chance, And either not attempt to choose at all, Or swear before you choose, if you choose wrong, Never to speak to lady afterward In way of marriage; therefore be advis'd 'For the heavens, rouse up a brave mind' says the fiend 'and run.' Well, my conscience, hanging about the neck of my heart, says very wisely to me 'My honest friend Launcelot, being an honest man's son' or rather 'an honest woman's son'; for indeed my father did something smack, something grow to, he had a kind of taste- well, my conscience says 'Launcelot, budge not.' 'Budge,' says the fiend 'Conscience,' say I, (you counsel well.' 'Fiend,' say I, 'you counsel well.' To be rul'd by my conscience, I should stay with the Jew my master, who- God bless the mark!- is a kind of devil; and, to run away from the Jew, I should be ruled by the fiend, who- saving your reverence!- is the devil himself Certainly the Jew is the very devil incarnation; and, in my conscience, my conscience is but a kind of hard conscience to offer to counsel me to stay with the Jew Give me your blessing; truth will come to light; murder cannot be hid long; a man's son may, but in the end truth will out I know not what I shall think of that; but I am Launcelot, the Jew's man, and I am sure Margery your wife is my mother You may do so; but let it be so hasted that supper be ready at the farthest by five of the clock In very brief, the suit is impertinent to myself, as your worship shall know by this honest old man; and, though I say it, though old man, yet poor man, my father Shylock thy master spoke with me this day, And hath preferr'd thee, if it be preferment To leave a rich Jew's service to become The follower of so poor a gentleman And then to scape drowning thrice, and to be in peril of my life with the edge of a feather-bed-here are simple scapes These things being bought and orderly bestowed, Return in haste, for I do feast to-night My best esteem'd acquaintance; hie thee, go Most beautiful pagan, most sweet Jew! If a Christian do not play the knave and get thee, I am much deceived I know the hand; in faith, 'tis a fair hand, And whiter than the paper it writ on Is the fair hand that writ Marry, sir, to bid my old master, the Jew, to sup to-night with my new master, the Christian But wherefore should I go? I am not bid for love; they flatter me; But yet I'll go in hate, to feed upon The prodigal Christian What! must I hold a candle to my shames? They in themselves, good sooth, are too too light 'Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire.' The second, silver, which this promise carries The one of them contains my picture, Prince; If you choose that, then I am yours withal A golden mind stoops not to shows of dross; I'll then nor give nor hazard aught for lead As much as I deserve? Why, that's the lady! I do in birth deserve her, and in fortunes, In graces, and in qualities of breeding; But more than these, in love I do deserve Is't like that lead contains her? 'Twere damnation To think so base a thought; it were too gross To rib her cerecloth in the obscure grave O hell! what have we here? A carrion Death, within whose empty eye There is a written scroll! I'll read the writing 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 He came too late, the ship was under sail; But there the Duke was given to understand That in a gondola were seen together Lorenzo and his amorous Jessica; Besides, Antonio certified the Duke They were not with Bassanio in his ship I never heard a passion so confus'd, So strange, outrageous, and so variable, As the dog Jew did utter in the streets 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 I pray thee, let us go and find him out, And quicken his embraced heaviness With some delight or other '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 So be gone; you are sped.' Still more fool I shall appear By the time I linger here O, these deliberate fools! When they do choose, They have the wisdom by their wit to lose Let me say amen betimes, lest the devil cross my prayer, for here he comes in the likeness of a Jew And Shylock, for his own part, knew the bird was flidge; and then it is the complexion of them all to leave the dam a bankrupt, a prodigal, who dare scarce show his head on the Rialto; a beggar, that was us'd to come so smug upon the mart Here comes another of the tribe; a third cannot be match'd, unless the devil himself turn Jew 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 pray you tarry; pause a day or two Before you hazard; for, in choosing wrong, I lose your company; therefore forbear a while O happy torment, when my torturer Doth teach me answers for deliverance! But let me to my fortune and the caskets Now he goes, With no less presence, but with much more love, Than young Alcides when he did redeem The virgin tribute paid by howling Troy To the sea-monster I stand for sacrifice; The rest aloof are the Dardanian wives, With bleared visages come forth to view The issue of th' exploit It is engend'red in the eyes, With gazing fed; and fancy dies In the cradle where it lies So may the outward shows be least themselves; The world is still deceiv'd with ornament How many cowards, whose hearts are all as false As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars; Who, inward search'd, have livers white as milk! And these assume but valour's excrement To render them redoubted Look on beauty And you shall see 'tis purchas'd by the weight, Which therein works a miracle in nature, Making them lightest that wear most of it; So are those crisped snaky golden locks Which make such wanton gambols with the wind Upon supposed fairness often known To be the dowry of a second head- The skull that bred them in the sepulchre Thus ornament is but the guiled shore To a most dangerous sea; the beauteous scarf Veiling an Indian beauty; in a word, The seeming truth which cunning times put on To entrap the wisest Yet look how far The substance of my praise doth wrong this shadow In underprizing it, so far this shadow Doth limp behind the substance There are some shrewd contents in yond same paper That steals the colour from Bassanio's cheek 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 He plies the Duke at morning and at night, And doth impeach the freedom of the state, If they deny him justice Thou call'dst me dog before thou hadst a cause, But, since I am a dog, beware my fangs; The Duke shall grant me justice I oft deliver'd from his forfeitures Many that have at times made moan to me; Therefore he hates me Madam, although I speak it in your presence, You have a noble and a true conceit Of godlike amity, which appears most strongly In bearing thus the absence of your lord If it be so, How little is the cost I have bestowed In purchasing the semblance of my soul From out the state of hellish cruelty! This comes too near the praising of myself; Therefore, no more of it; hear other things Exeunt JESSICA and LORENZO Now, Balthasar, As I have ever found thee honest-true, So let me find thee still Come on, Nerissa, I have work in hand That you yet know not of; we'll see our husbands Before they think of us Yes, truly; for, look you, the sins of the father are to be laid upon the children; therefore, I promise you, I fear you There is but one hope in it that can do you any good, and that is but a kind of bastard hope, neither Marry, you may partly hope that your father got you not- that you are not the Jew's daughter That were a kind of bastard hope indeed; so the sins of my mother should be visited upon me Truly then I fear you are damn'd both by father and mother; thus when I shun Scylla, your father, I fall into Charybdis, your mother; well, you are gone both ways Truly, the more to blame he; we were Christians enow before, e'en as many as could well live one by another Nay, you need nor fear us, Lorenzo; Launcelot and I are out; he tells me flatly there's no mercy for me in heaven, because I am a Jew's daughter; and he says you are no good member of the commonwealth, for in converting Jews to Christians you raise the price of pork go to thy fellows, bid them cover the table, serve in the meat, and we will come in to dinner O dear discretion, how his words are suited! The fool hath planted in his memory An army of good words; and I do know A many fools that stand in better place, Garnish'd like him, that for a tricksy word Defy the matter 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 I'll not answer that, But say it is my humour- is it answer'd? What if my house be troubled with a rat, And I be pleas'd to give ten thousand ducats To have it ban'd? What, are you answer'd yet? Some men there are love not a gaping pig; Some that are mad if they behold a cat; And others, when the bagpipe sings i' th' nose, Cannot contain their urine; for affection, Mistress of passion, sways it to the mood Of what it likes or loathes 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 If every ducat in six thousand ducats Were in six parts, and every part a ducat, I would not draw them; I would have my bond What judgment shall I dread, doing no wrong? You have among you many a purchas'd slave, Which, fike your asses and your dogs and mules, You use in abject and in slavish parts, Because you bought them; shall I say to you 'Let them be free, marry them to your heirs- Why sweat they under burdens?- let their beds Be made as soft as yours, and let their palates Be season'd with such viands'? You will answer 'The slaves are ours.' So do I answer you 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 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 YOU hear the learn'd Bellario, what he writes; And here, I take it, is the doctor come The quality of mercy is not strain'd; It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath Therefore, Jew, Though justice be thy plea, consider this- That in the course of justice none of us Should see salvation; we do pray for mercy, And that same prayer doth teach us all to render The deeds of mercy I have spoke thus much To mitigate the justice of thy plea, Which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice Must needs give sentence 'gainst the merchant there It must not be; there is no power in Venice Can alter a decree established; 'Twill be recorded for a precedent, And many an error, by the same example, Will rush into the state; it cannot be Why, this bond is forfeit; And lawfully by this the Jew may claim A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off Nearest the merchant's heart For the intent and purpose of the law Hath full relation to the penalty, Which here appeareth due upon the bond Ay, his breast- So says the bond; doth it not, noble judge? 'Nearest his heart,' those are the very words Commend me to your honourable wife; Tell her the process of Antonio's end; Say how I lov'd you; speak me fair in death; And, when the tale is told, bid her be judge Whether Bassanio had not once a love Your wife would give you little thanks for that, If she were by to hear you make the offer [Aside] These be the Christian husbands! I have a daughter- Would any of the stock of Barrabas Had been her husband, rather than a Christian!- We trifle time; I pray thee pursue sentence The words expressly are 'a pound of flesh.' Take then thy bond, take thou thy pound of flesh; But, in the cutting it, if thou dost shed One drop of Christian blood, thy lands and goods Are, by the laws of Venice, confiscate Unto the state of Venice It is enacted in the laws of Venice, If it be proved against an alien That by direct or indirect attempts He seek the life of any citizen, The party 'gainst the which he doth contrive Shall seize one half his goods; the other half Comes to the privy coffer of the state; And the offender's life lies in the mercy Of the Duke only, 'gainst all other voice In which predicament, I say, thou stand'st; For it appears by manifest proceeding That indirectly, and directly too, Thou hast contrived against the very life Of the defendant; and thou hast incurr'd The danger formerly by me rehears'd Beg that thou mayst have leave to hang thyself; And yet, thy wealth being forfeit to the state, Thou hast not left the value of a cord; Therefore thou must be hang'd at the state's charge That thou shalt see the difference of our spirit, I pardon thee thy life before thou ask it You take my house when you do take the prop That doth sustain my house; you take my life When you do take the means whereby I live In christ'ning shalt thou have two god-fathers; Had I been judge, thou shouldst have had ten more, To bring thee to the gallows, not to the font He is well paid that is well satisfied, And I, delivering you, am satisfied, And therein do account myself well paid Good sir, this ring was given me by my wife; And, when she put it on, she made me vow That I should neither sell, nor give, nor lose it We shall have old swearing That they did give the rings away to men; But we'll outface them, and outswear them too But go we in, I pray thee, Jessica, And ceremoniously let us prepare Some welcome for the mistress of the house 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 Exit STEPHANO How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Here will we sit and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears; soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony The reason is your spirits are attentive; For do but note a wild and wanton herd, Or race of youthful and unhandled colts, Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud, Which is the hot condition of their blood- If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound, Or any air of music touch their ears, You shall perceive them make a mutual stand, Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze By the sweet power of music Therefore the poet Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods; Since nought so stockish, hard, and full of rage, But music for the time doth change his nature A substitute shines brightly as a king Until a king be by, and then his state Empties itself, as doth an inland brook Into the main of waters The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark When neither is attended; and I think ne nightingale, if she should sing by day, When every goose is cackling, would be thought No better a musician than the wren We have been praying for our husbands' welfare, Which speed, we hope, the better for our words Madam, they are not yet; But there is come a messenger before, To signify their coming This night methinks is but the daylight sick; It looks a little paler; 'tis a day Such as the day is when the sun is hid [To NERISSA] By yonder moon I swear you do me wrong; In faith, I gave it to the judge's clerk Gave it a judge's clerk! No, God's my judge, The clerk will ne'er wear hair on's face that had it I gave my love a ring, and made him swear Never to part with it, and here he stands; I dare be sworn for him he would not leave it Nor pluck it from his finger for the wealth That the world masters [Aside] Why, I were best to cut my left hand off, And swear I lost the ring defending it My Lord Bassanio gave his ring away Unto the judge that begg'd it, and indeed Deserv'd it too; and then the boy, his clerk, That took some pains in writing, he begg'd mine; And neither man nor master would take aught But the two rings If I could add a lie unto a fault, I would deny it; but you see my finger Hath not the ring upon it; it is gone Even so void is your false heart of truth; By heaven, I will ne'er come in your bed Until I see the ring Sweet Portia, If you did know to whom I gave the ring, If you did know for whom I gave the ring, And would conceive for what I gave the ring, And how unwillingly I left the ring, When nought would be accepted but the ring, You would abate the strength of your displeasure If you had known the virtue of the ring, Or half her worthiness that gave the ring, Or your own honour to contain the ring, You would not then have parted with the ring Pardon me, good lady; For by these blessed candles of the night, Had you been there, I think you would have begg'd The ring of me to give the worthy doctor Well, do you so, let not me take him then; For, if I do, I'll mar the young clerk's pen 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 Here is a letter; read it at your leisure; It comes from Padua, from Bellario; There you shall find that Portia was the doctor, Nerissa there her clerk It is almost morning, And yet I am sure you are not satisfied Of these events at full But were the day come, I should wish it dark, Till I were couching with the doctor's clerk that is, Master Page, fidelicet Master Page; and there is myself, fidelicet myself; and the three party is, lastly and finally, mine host of the Garter Ay, by these gloves, did he-or I would I might never come in mine own great chamber again else!-of seven groats in mill-sixpences, and two Edward shovel-boards that cost me two shilling and two pence apiece of Yead Miller, by these gloves Be avis'd, sir, and pass good humours; I will say 'marry trap' with you, if you run the nuthook's humour on me; that is the very note of it By this hat, then, he in the red face had it; for though I cannot remember what I did when you made me drunk, yet I am not altogether an ass And being fap, sir, was, as they say, cashier'd; and so conclusions pass'd the careers But can you affection the oman? Let us command to know that of your mouth or of your lips; for divers philosophers hold that the lips is parcel of the mouth I will marry her, sir, at your request; but if there be no great love in the beginning, yet heaven may decrease it upon better acquaintance, when we are married and have more occasion to know one another I have seen Sackerson loose twenty times, and have taken him by the chain; but I warrant you, the women have so cried and shriek'd at it that it pass'd; but women, indeed, cannot abide 'em; they are very ill-favour'd rough things 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 [To ROBIN] Hold, sirrah; bear you these letters tightly; Sail like my pinnace to these golden shores If he do, i' faith, and find anybody in the house, here will be an old abusing of God's patience and the King's English Go; and we'll have a posset for't soon at night, in faith, at the latter end of a sea-coal fire To desire this honest gentlewoman, your maid, to speak a good word to Mistress Anne Page for my master, in the way of marriage [Aside to SIMPLE] Are you avis'd o' that? You shall find it a great charge; and to be up early and down late; but notwithstanding-to tell you in your ear, I would have no words of it-my master himself is in love with Mistress Anne Page; but notwithstanding that, I know Anne's mind-that's neither here nor there In truth, sir, and she is pretty, and honest, and gentle; and one that is your friend, I can tell you that by the way; I praise heaven for it 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 [Exit FENTON] Truly, an honest gentleman; but Anne loves him not; for I know Anne's mind as well as another does You love sack, and so do I; would you desire better sympathy? Let it suffice thee, Mistress Page at the least, if the love of soldier can suffice-that I love thee By me, Thine own true knight, By day or night, Or any kind of light, With all his might, For thee to fight, JOHN FALSTAFF.' What a Herod of Jewry is this! O wicked, wicked world! One that is well-nigh worn to pieces with age to show himself a young gallant! What an unweighed behaviour hath this Flemish drunkard pick'd-with the devil's name! -out of my conversation, that he dares in this manner assay me? Why, he hath not been thrice in my company! What should I say to him? I was then frugal of my mirth Heaven forgive me! Why, I'll exhibit a bill in the parliament for the putting down of men And yet he would not swear; prais'd women's modesty, and gave such orderly and well-behaved reproof to all uncomeliness that I would have sworn his disposition would have gone to the truth of his words; but they do no more adhere and keep place together than the Hundredth Psalm to the tune of 'Greensleeves.' What tempest, I trow, threw this whale, with so many tuns of oil in his belly, ashore at Windsor? How shall I be revenged on him? I think the best way were to entertain him with hope, till the wicked fire of lust have melted him in his own grease He will print them, out of doubt; for he cares not what he puts into the press when he would put us two Let's be reveng'd on him; let's appoint him a meeting, give him a show of comfort in his suit, and lead him on with a fine-baited delay, till he hath pawn'd his horses to mine host of the Garter Nay, I will consent to act any villainy against him that may not sully the chariness of our honesty He woos both high and low, both rich and poor, Both young and old, one with another, Ford; He loves the gallimaufry Hang 'em, slaves! I do not think the knight would offer it; but these that accuse him in his intent towards our wives are a yoke of his discarded men; very rogues, now they be out of service Sir, there is a fray to be fought between Sir Hugh the Welsh priest and Caius the French doctor [To PAGE] Will you go with us to behold it? My merry host hath had the measuring of their weapons; and, I think, hath appointed them contrary places; for, believe me, I hear the parson is no jester You'll not bear a letter for me, you rogue! You stand upon your honour! Why, thou unconfinable baseness, it is as much as I can do to keep the terms of my honour precise Yet there has been knights, and lords, and gentlemen, with their coaches; I warrant you, coach after coach, letter after letter, gift after gift; smelling so sweetly, all musk, and so rushling, I warrant you, in silk and gold; and in such alligant terms; and in such wine and sugar of the best and the fairest, that would have won any woman's heart; and I warrant you, they could never get an eye-wink of her Mistress Page hath her hearty commendations to you too; and let me tell you in your ear, she's as fartuous a civil modest wife, and one, I tell you, that will not miss you morning nor evening prayer, as any is in Windsor, whoe'er be the other; and she bade me tell your worship that her husband is seldom from home, but she hopes there will come a time Not I, I assure thee; setting the attraction of my good parts aside, I have no other charms Will they yet look after thee? Wilt thou, after the expense of so much money, be now a gainer? Good body, I thank thee Troth, and I have a bag of money here troubles me; if you will help to bear it, Sir John, take all, or half, for easing me of the carriage I have long lov'd her, and, I protest to you, bestowed much on her; followed her with a doting observance; engross'd opportunities to meet her; fee'd every slight occasion that could but niggardly give me sight of her; not only bought many presents to give her, but have given largely to many to know what she would have given; briefly, I have pursu'd her as love hath pursued me; which hath been on the wing of all occasions I will use her as the key of the cuckoldly rogue's coffer; and there's my harvest-home Hang him, mechanical salt-butter rogue! I will stare him out of his wits; I will awe him with my cudgel; it shall hang like a meteor o'er the cuckold's horns Who says this is improvident jealousy? My wife hath sent to him; the hour is fix'd; the match is made Then she plots, then she ruminates, then she devises; and what they think in their hearts they may effect, they will break their hearts but they will effect he is a curer of souls, and you a curer of bodies; if you should fight, you go against the hair of your professions 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 [Aside to the others] Master Guest, and Master Page, and eke Cavaleiro Slender, go you through the town to Frogmore Marry, sir, the pittie-ward, the park-ward; every way; old Windsor way, and every way but the town way How melancholies I am! I will knog his urinals about his knave's costard when I have goot opportunities for the ork 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 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 Boys of art, I have deceiv'd you both; I have directed you to wrong places; your hearts are mighty, your skins are whole, and let burnt sack be the issue I desire you that we may be friends; and let us knog our prains together to be revenge on this same scall, scurvy, cogging companion, the host of the Garter Has Page any brains? Hath he any eyes? Hath he any thinking? Sure, they sleep; he hath no use of them And Falstaff's boy with her! Good plots! They are laid; and our revolted wives share damnation together [Clock strikes] The clock gives me my cue, and my assurance bids me search; there I shall find Falstaff I shall be rather prais'd for this than mock'd; for it is as positive as the earth is firm that Falstaff is there That done, trudge with it in all haste, and carry it among the whitsters in Datchet Mead, and there empty it in the muddy ditch close by the Thames side Have I caught thee, my heavenly jewel? Why, now let me die, for I have liv'd long enough; this is the period of my ambition Now shall I sin in my wish; I would thy husband were dead; I'll speak it before the best lord, I would make thee my lady I see how thine eye would emulate the diamond; thou hast the right arched beauty of the brow that becomes the ship-tire, the tire-valiant, or any tire of Venetian admittance What made me love thee? Let that persuade thee there's something extra-ordinary in thee 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 For shame, never stand 'you had rather' and 'you had rather'! Your husband's here at hand; bethink you of some conveyance; in the house you cannot hide him Buck? I would I could wash myself of the buck! Buck, buck, buck! ay, buck! I warrant you, buck; and of the season too, it shall appear I am half afraid he will have need of washing; so throwing him into the water will do him a benefit I do invite you to-morrow morning to my house to breakfast; after, we'll a-birding together; I have a fine hawk for the bush Besides these, other bars he lays before me, My riots past, my wild societies; And tells me 'tis a thing impossible I should love thee but as a property Good Master Fenton, I will not be your friend, nor enemy; My daughter will I question how she loves you, And as I find her, so am I affected; Till then, farewell, sir; she must needs go in; Her father will be angry 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 Come, let me pour in some sack to the Thames water; for my belly's as cold as if I had swallow'd snowballs for pills to cool the reins Mistress Ford! I have had ford enough; I was thrown into the ford; I have my belly full of ford first, an intolerable fright to be detected with a jealous rotten bell-wether; next, to be compass'd like a good bilbo in the circumference of a peck, hilt to point, heel to head; and then, to be stopp'd in, like a strong distillation, with stinking clothes that fretted in their own grease Her husband is this morning gone a-birding; I have received from her another embassy of meeting; 'twixt eight and nine is the hour, Master Brook 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 What, hoa, Mistress Page! Come you and the old woman down; my husband will come into the chamber A witch, a quean, an old cozening quean! Have I not forbid her my house? She comes of errands, does she? We are simple men; we do not know what's brought to pass under the profession of fortune-telling If they can find in their hearts the poor unvirtuous fat knight shall be any further afflicted, we two will still be the ministers Sir, the Germans desire to have three of your horses; the Duke himself will be to-morrow at court, and they are going to meet him 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 Henceforth, do what thou wilt; I rather will suspect the sun with cold Than thee with wantonness Devise but how you'll use him when he comes, And let us two devise to bring him thither You have heard of such a spirit, and well you know The superstitious idle-headed eld Receiv'd, and did deliver to our age, This tale of Heme the Hunter for a truth And till he tell the truth, Let the supposed fairies pinch him sound, And burn him with their tapers What wouldst thou have, boor? What, thick-skin? Speak, breathe, discuss; brief, short, quick, snap 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 My master, sir, my Master Slender, sent to her, seeing her go thorough the streets, to know, sir, whether one Nym, sir, that beguil'd him of a chain, had the chain or no Ay, sir, like who more bold? SIMPLE., I thank your worship; I shall make my master glad with these tidings If it should come to the car of the court how I have been transformed, and how my transformation hath been wash'd and cudgell'd, they would melt me out of my fat, drop by drop, and liquor fishermen's boots with me; I warrant they would whip me with their fine wits till I were as crestfall'n as a dried pear What tell'st thou me of black and blue? I was beaten myself into all the colours of the rainbow; and was like to be apprehended for the witch of Brainford I have a letter from her Of such contents as you will wonder at; The mirth whereof so larded with my matter That neither, singly, can be manifested Without the show of both To this her mother's plot She seemingly obedient likewise hath Made promise to the doctor Her father means she shall be all in white; And in that habit, when Slender sees his time To take her by the hand and bid her go, She shall go with him; her mother hath intended The better to denote her to the doctor- For they must all be mask'd and vizarded- That quaint in green she shall be loose enrob'd, With ribands pendent, flaring 'bout her head; And when the doctor spies his vantage ripe, To pinch her by the hand, and, on that token, The maid hath given consent to go with him I come to her in white and cry 'mum'; she cries 'budget,' and by that we know one another That's good too; but what needs either your mum or her budget? The white will decipher her well enough 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 Be pold, I pray you; follow me into the pit; and when I give the watch-ords, do as I pid you O powerful love! that in some respects makes a beast a man; in some other a man a beast 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 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 Away, disperse; but till 'tis one o'clock, Our dance of custom round about the oak Of Herne the Hunter let us not forget Pray you, lock hand in hand; yourselves in order set; And twenty glow-worms shall our lanterns be, To guide our measure round about the tree With trial-fire touch me his finger-end; If he be chaste, the flame will back descend, And turn him to no pain; but if he start, It is the flesh of a corrupted heart 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 '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 Yet be cheerful, knight; thou shalt eat a posset tonight at my house, where I will desire thee to laugh at my wife, that now laughs at thee 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 You would have married her most shamefully, Where there was no proportion held in love QUINCE, BOTTOM, FLUTE, SNOUT, STARVELING, AND SNUG Other Fairies attending their King and Queen Attendants on Theseus and Hippolyta Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour Draws on apace; four happy days bring in Another moon; but, O, methinks, how slow This old moon wanes! She lingers my desires, Like to a step-dame or a dowager, Long withering out a young man's revenue Go, Philostrate, Stir up the Athenian youth to merriments; Awake the pert and nimble spirit of mirth; Turn melancholy forth to funerals; The pale companion is not for our pomp And, my gracious Duke, Be it so she will not here before your Grace Consent to marry with Demetrius, I beg the ancient privilege of Athens To you your father should be as a god; One that compos'd your beauties; yea, and one To whom you are but as a form in wax, By him imprinted, and within his power To leave the figure, or disfigure it In himself he is; But, in this kind, wanting your father's voice, The other must be held the worthier Therefore, fair Hermia, question your desires, Know of your youth, examine well your blood, Whether, if you yield not to your father's choice, You can endure the livery of a nun, For aye to be shady cloister mew'd, To live a barren sister all your life, Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon If thou lovest me then, Steal forth thy father's house to-morrow night; And in the wood, a league without the town, Where I did meet thee once with Helena To do observance to a morn of May, There will I stay for thee My good Lysander! I swear to thee by Cupid's strongest bow, By his best arrow, with the golden head, By the simplicity of Venus' doves, By that which knitteth souls and prospers loves, And by that fire which burn'd the Carthage Queen, When the false Troyan under sail was seen, By all the vows that ever men have broke, In number more than ever women spoke, In that same place thou hast appointed me, To-morrow truly will I meet with thee To-morrow night, when Phoebe doth behold Her silver visage in the wat'ry glass, Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass, A time that lovers' flights doth still conceal, Through Athens' gates have we devis'd to steal Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind 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 You, Pyramus' father; myself, Thisby's father; Snug, the joiner, you, the lion's part 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 Over hill, over dale, Thorough bush, thorough brier, Over park, over pale, Thorough flood, thorough fire, I do wander every where, Swifter than the moon's sphere; And I serve the Fairy Queen, To dew her orbs upon the green The cowslips tall her pensioners be; In their gold coats spots you see; Those be rubies, fairy favours, In those freckles live their savours 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 The wisest aunt, telling the saddest tale, Sometime for three-foot stool mistaketh me; Then slip I from her bum, down topples she, And 'tailor' cries, and falls into a cough; And then the whole quire hold their hips and laugh, And waxen in their mirth, and neeze, and swear A merrier hour was never wasted there Therefore the winds, piping to us in vain, As in revenge, have suck'd up from the sea Contagious fogs; which, falling in the land, Hath every pelting river made so proud That they have overborne their continents The spring, the summer, The childing autumn, angry winter, change Their wonted liveries; and the mazed world, By their increase, now knows not which is which And this same progeny of evils comes From our debate, from our dissension; We are their parents and original Thou rememb'rest Since once I sat upon a promontory, And heard a mermaid on a dolphin's back Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath That the rude sea grew civil at her song, And certain stars shot madly from their spheres To hear the sea-maid's music The juice of it on sleeping eyelids laid Will make or man or woman madly dote Upon the next live creature that it sees Having once this juice, I'll watch Titania when she is asleep, And drop the liquor of it in her eyes; The next thing then she waking looks upon, Be it on lion, bear, or wolf, or bull, On meddling monkey, or on busy ape, She shall pursue it with the soul of love You do impeach your modesty too much To leave the city and commit yourself Into the hands of one that loves you not; To trust the opportunity of night, And the ill counsel of a desert place, With the rich worth of your virginity It is not night when I do see your face, Therefore I think I am not in the night; Nor doth this wood lack worlds of company, For you, in my respect, are all the world I'll run from thee and hide me in the brakes, And leave thee to the mercy of wild beasts I will not stay thy questions; let me go; Or, if thou follow me, do not believe But I shall do thee mischief in the wood Exit DEMETRIUS I'll follow thee, and make a heaven of hell, To die upon the hand I love so well A sweet Athenian lady is in love With a disdainful youth; anoint his eyes; But do it when the next thing he espies May be the lady 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 O, take the sense, sweet, of my innocence! Love takes the meaning in love's conference 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 This is he, my master said, Despised the Athenian maid; And here the maiden, sleeping sound, On the dank and dirty ground What though he love your Hermia? Lord, what though? Yet Hermia still loves you; then be content 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 This green plot shall be our stage, this hawthorn brake our tiring-house; and we will do it in action, as we will do it before the Duke Write me a prologue; and let the prologue seem to say we will do no harm with our swords, and that Pyramus is not kill'd indeed; and for the more better assurance, tell them that I Pyramus am not Pyramus but Bottom the weaver Nay, you must name his name, and half his face must be seen through the lion's neck; and he himself must speak through, saying thus, or to the same defect 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 we must have a wall in the great chamber; for Pyramus and Thisby, says the story, did talk through the chink of a wall Most radiant Pyramus, most lily-white of hue, Of colour like the red rose on triumphant brier, Most brisky juvenal, and eke most lovely Jew, As true as truest horse, that would never tire, I'll meet thee, Pyramus, at Ninny's tomb But I will not stir from this place, do what they can; I will walk up and down here, and will sing, that they shall hear I am not afraid [Sings] The ousel cock, so black of hue, With orange-tawny bill, The throstle with his note so true, The wren with little quill Mine ear is much enamoured of thy note; So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape; And thy fair virtue's force perforce doth move me, On the first view, to say, to swear, I love thee 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 Be kind and courteous to this gentleman; Hop in his walks and gambol in his eyes; Feed him with apricocks and dewberries, With purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries; The honey bags steal from the humble-bees, And for night-tapers crop their waxen thighs, And light them at the fiery glow-worm's eyes, To have my love to bed and to arise; And pluck the wings from painted butterflies, To fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes I pray you, commend me to Mistress Squash, your mother, and to Master Peascod, your father Near to her close and consecrated bower, While she was in her dull and sleeping hour, A crew of patches, rude mechanicals, That work for bread upon Athenian stalls, Were met together to rehearse a play Intended for great Theseus' nuptial day 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 Would he have stolen away From sleeping Hermia? I'll believe as soon This whole earth may be bor'd, and that the moon May through the centre creep and so displease Her brother's noontide with th' Antipodes There is no following her in this fierce vein; Here, therefore, for a while I will remain What hast thou done? Thou hast mistaken quite, And laid the love-juice on some true-love's sight About the wood go swifter than the wind, And Helena of Athens look thou find; All fancy-sick she is and pale of cheer, With sighs of love that costs the fresh blood dear When his love he doth espy, Let her shine as gloriously As the Venus of the sky My heart to her but as guest-wise sojourn'd, And now to Helen is it home return'd, There to remain Dark night, that from the eye his function takes, The ear more quick of apprehension makes; Wherein it doth impair the seeing sense, It pays the hearing double recompense And will you rent our ancient love asunder, To join with men in scorning your poor friend? It is not friendly, 'tis not maidenly; Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it, Though I alone do feel the injury Have you not set Lysander, as in scorn, To follow me and praise my eyes and face? And made your other love, Demetrius, Who even but now did spurn me with his foot, To call me goddess, nymph, divine, and rare, Precious, celestial? Wherefore speaks he this To her he hates? And wherefore doth Lysander Deny your love, so rich within his soul, And tender me, forsooth, affection, But by your setting on, by your consent? What though I be not so in grace as you, So hung upon with love, so fortunate, But miserable most, to love unlov'd? This you should pity rather than despise Thou canst compel no more than she entreat; Thy threats have no more strength than her weak prayers Helen, I love thee, by my life I do; I swear by that which I will lose for thee To prove him false that says I love thee not Hang off, thou cat, thou burr; vile thing, let loose, Or I will shake thee from me like a serpent 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 Did not you tell me I should know the man By the Athenian garments he had on? And so far blameless proves my enterprise That I have 'nointed an Athenian's eyes; And so far am I glad it so did sort, As this their jangling I esteem a sport Hie therefore, Robin, overcast the night; The starry welkin cover thou anon With drooping fog as black as Acheron, And lead these testy rivals so astray As one come not within another's way Thou coward, art thou bragging to the stars, Telling the bushes that thou look'st for wars, And wilt not come? Come, recreant, come, thou child; I'll whip thee with a rod 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 O weary night, O long and tedious night, Abate thy hours! Shine comforts from the east, That I may back to Athens by daylight, From these that my poor company detest Jack shall have Jill; Nought shall go ill; The man shall have his mare again, and all shall be well 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 Exeunt FAIRIES So doth the woodbine the sweet honeysuckle Gently entwist; the female ivy so Enrings the barky fingers of the elm For she his hairy temples then had rounded With coronet of fresh and fragrant flowers; And that same dew which sometime on the buds Was wont to swell like round and orient pearls Stood now within the pretty flowerets' eyes, Like tears that did their own disgrace bewail And, gentle Puck, take this transformed scalp From off the head of this Athenian swain, That he awaking when the other do May all to Athens back again repair, And think no more of this night's accidents But as the fierce vexation of a dream Titania, music call; and strike more dead Than common sleep of all these five the sense Come, my Queen, take hands with me, [Music] And rock the ground whereon these sleepers be Come, my lord; and in our flight, Tell me how it came this night That I sleeping here was found With these mortals on the ground Exeunt To the winding of horns, enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, EGEUS, and train THESEUS Go, one of you, find out the forester; For now our observation is perform'd, And since we have the vaward of the day, My love shall hear the music of my hounds A cry more tuneable Was never holla'd to, nor cheer'd with horn, In Crete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly My lord, I shall reply amazedly, Half sleep, half waking; but as yet, I swear, I cannot truly say how I came here, But, as I think- for truly would I speak, And now I do bethink me, so it is- I came with Hermia hither They would have stol'n away, they would, Demetrius, Thereby to have defeated you and me Egeus, I will overbear your will; For in the temple, by and by, with us These couples shall eternally be knit It shall be call'd 'Bottom's Dream,' because it hath no bottom; and I will sing it in the latter end of a play, before the Duke Masters, I am to discourse wonders; but ask me not what; for if I tell you, I am not true Athenian In any case, let Thisby have clean linen; and let not him that plays the lion pare his nails, for they shall hang out for the lion's claws And, most dear actors, eat no onions nor garlic, for we are to utter sweet breath; and I do not doubt but to hear them say it is a sweet comedy 'The riot of the tipsy Bacchanals, Tearing the Thracian singer in their rage.' That is an old device, and it was play'd When I from Thebes came last a conqueror A play there is, my lord, some ten words long, Which is as brief as I have known a play; But by ten words, my lord, it is too long, Which makes it tedious; for in all the play There is not one word apt, one player fitted Which when I saw rehears'd, I must confess, Made mine eyes water; but more merry tears The passion of loud laughter never shed That you should here repent you, The actors are at band; and, by their show, You shall know all, that you are like to know, THESEUS This man, with lanthorn, dog, and bush of thorn, Presenteth Moonshine; for, if you will know, By moonshine did these lovers think no scorn To meet at Ninus' tomb, there, there to woo For all the rest, Let Lion, Moonshine, Wall, and lovers twain, At large discourse while here they do remain Exeunt PROLOGUE, PYRAMUS, THISBY, LION, and MOONSHINE THESEUS This loam, this rough-cast, and this stone, doth show That I am that same wall; the truth is so; And this the cranny is, right and sinister, Through which the fearful lovers are to whisper O wicked wall, through whom I see no bliss, Curs'd he thy stones for thus deceiving me! THESEUS 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 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 Not so, my lord; for his valour cannot carry his discretion, and the fox carries the goose It appears, by his small light of discretion, that he is in the wane; but yet, in courtesy, in all reason, we must stay the time How chance Moonshine is gone before Thisby comes back and finds her lover? Re-enter THISBY THESEUS A mote will turn the balance, which Pyramus, which Thisby, is the better- he for a man, God warrant us Will it please you to see the Epilogue, or to hear a Bergomask dance between two of our company? THESEUS Now it is the time of night That the graves, all gaping wide, Every one lets forth his sprite, In the church-way paths to glide So shall all the couples three Ever true in loving be; And the blots of Nature's hand Shall not in their issue stand; Never mole, hare-lip, nor scar, Nor mark prodigious, such as are Despised in nativity, Shall upon their children be If we shadows have offended, Think but this, and all is mended, That you have but slumb'red here While these visions did appear And, as I am an honest Puck, If we have unearned luck Now to scape the serpent's tongue, We will make amends ere long; Else the Puck a liar call He hath borne himself beyond the promise of his age, doing in the figure of a lamb the feats of a lion 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 Good Signior Leonato, are you come to meet your trouble? The fashion of the world is to avoid cost, and you encounter it God keep your ladyship still in that mind! So some gentleman or other shall scape a predestinate scratch'd face That I neither feel how she should be loved, nor know how she should be worthy, is the opinion that fire cannot melt out of me The body of your discourse is sometime guarded with fragments, and the guards are but slightly basted on neither Teach it but how, And thou shalt see how apt it is to learn Any hard lesson that may do thee good 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 [Exit Antonio.] [Enter Antonio's Son with a Musician, and others.] [To the Son] Cousin, you know what you have to do There is no measure in the occasion that breeds; therefore the sadness is without limit You have of late stood out against your brother, and he hath ta'en you newly into his grace, where it is impossible you should take true root but by the fair weather that you make yourself 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 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 Sure my brother is amorous on Hero and hath withdrawn her father to break with him about it What fashion will you wear the garland of? about your neck, like an usurer's chain? or under your arm, like a lieutenant's scarf? You must wear it one way, for the Prince hath got your Hero 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 She would have made Hercules have turn'd spit, yea, and have cleft his club to make the fire too 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 Come, you shake the head at so long a breathing; but I warrant thee, Claudio, the time shall not go dully by us I will in the interim undertake one of Hercules' labours, which is, to bring Signior Benedick and the Lady Beatrice into a mountain of affection th' one with th' other If we can do this, Cupid is no longer an archer; his glory shall be ours, for we are the only love-gods I think I told your lordship, a year since, how much I am in the favour of Margaret, the waiting gentlewoman to Hero 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 I have known when he would have walk'd ten mile afoot to see a good armour; and now will he lie ten nights awake carving the fashion of a new doublet O God, counterfeit? There was never counterfeit of passion came so near the life of passion as she discovers it O, my lord, wisdom and blood combating in so tender a body, we have ten proofs to one that blood hath the victory As Hector, I assure you; and in the managing of quarrels you may say he is wise, for either he avoids them with great discretion, or undertakes them with a most Christianlike fear The sport will be, when they hold one an opinion of another's dotage, and no such matter The conference was sadly borne; they have the truth of this from Hero; they seem to pity the lady Ha! 'Against my will I am sent to bid you come in to dinner.' There's a double meaning in that [Enter Beatrice.] Now begin; For look where Beatrice like a lapwing runs Close by the ground, to hear our conference The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish Cut with her golden oars the silver stream And greedily devour the treacherous bait Then go we near her, that her ear lose nothing Of the false sweet bait that we lay for it I'll show thee some attires, and have thy counsel Which is the best to furnish me to-morrow What fire is in mine ears? Can this be true? Stand I condemn'd for pride and scorn so much? Contempt, farewell! and maiden pride, adieu! No glory lives behind the back of such I will only be bold with Benedick for his company; for, from the crown of his head to the sole of his foot, he is all mirth There is no appearance of fancy in him, unless it be a fancy that he hath to strange disguises; as to be a Dutchman to-day, a Frenchman to-morrow; or in the shape of two countries at once, as a German from the waist downward, all slops, and a Spaniard from the hip upward, no doublet I have studied eight or nine wise words to speak to you, which these hobby-horses must not hear Hero and Margaret have by this played their parts with Beatrice, and then the two bears will not bite one another when they meet I came hither to tell you, and, circumstances short'ned (for she has been too long a-talking of), the lady is disloyal Nay, that were a punishment too good for them if they should have any allegiance in them, being chosen for the Prince's watch 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 If they make you not then the better answer, You may say they are not the men you took them for If you meet a thief, you may suspect him, by virtue of your office, to be no true man; and for such kind of men, the less you meddle or make with them, why, the more your honesty I pray you watch about Signior Leonato's door; for the wedding being there tomorrow, there is a great coil to-night Stand thee close then under this penthouse, for it drizzles rain, and I will, like a true drunkard, utter all to thee Thou shouldst rather ask if it were possible any villany should be so rich; for when rich villains have need of poor ones, poor ones may make what price they will But know that I have to-night wooed Margaret, the Lady Hero's gentlewoman, by the name of Hero We have here recover'd the most dangerous piece of lechery that ever was known in the commonwealth Is there any harm in 'the heavier for a husband'? None, I think, an it be the right husband and the right wife 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 Go, good partner, go get you to Francis Seacoal; bid him bring his pen and inkhorn to the jail Behold how like a maid she blushes here! O, what authority and show of truth Can cunning sin cover itself withal! Comes not that blood as modest evidence To witness simple virtue, Would you not swear, All you that see her, that she were a maid By these exterior shows? But she is none If I have known her, You will say she did embrace me as a husband, And so extenuate the forehand sin Fie, fie! they are not to be nam'd, my lord-- Not to be spoke of; There is not chastity, enough in language Without offence to utter them Hear me a little; For I have only been silent so long, And given way unto this course of fortune, By noting of the lady Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine, Nor age so eat up my invention, Nor fortune made such havoc of my means, Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends, But they shall find awak'd in such a kind Both strength of limb and policy of mind, Ability in means, and choice of friends, To quit me of them throughly But if all aim but this be levell'd false, The supposition of the lady's death Will quench the wonder of her infamy Enter the Constables [Dogberry and Verges] and the Sexton, in gowns, [and the Watch, with Conrade and] Borachio Marry, that he had received a thousand ducats of Don John for accusing the Lady Hero wrongfully And that Count Claudio did mean, upon his words, to disgrace Hero before the whole assembly, and not marry her No, thou villain, thou art full of piety, as shall be prov'd upon thee by good witness 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 No, no! 'Tis all men's office to speak patience To those that wring under the load of sorrow, But no man's virtue nor sufficiency To be so moral when he shall endure The like himself 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 Marry, thou dost wrong me, thou dissembler, thou! Nay, never lay thy hand upon thy sword; I fear thee not Know, Claudio, to thy head, Thou hast so wrong'd mine innocent child and me That I am forc'd to lay my reverence by And, with grey hairs and bruise of many days, Do challenge thee to trial of a man God knows I lov'd my niece, And she is dead, slander'd to death by villains, That dare as well answer a man indeed As I dare take a serpent by the tongue What, courage, man! What though care kill'd a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care There's a double tongue; there's two tongues.' Thus did she an hour together transshape thy particular virtues 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 Rightly reasoned, and in his own division; and by my troth there's one meaning well suited This naughty man Shall fact to face be brought to Margaret, Who I believe was pack'd in all this wrong, Hir'd to it by your brother Moreover, sir, which indeed is not under white and black, this plaintiff here, the offender, did call me ass I leave an arrant knave with your worship, which I beseech your worship to correct yourself, for the example of others Pray thee, sweet Mistress Margaret, deserve well at my hands by helping me to the speech of Beatrice If you use them, Margaret, you must put in the pikes with a vice, and they are dangerous weapons for maids For them all together, which maintain'd so politic a state of evil that they will not admit any good part to intermingle with them 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 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 Pardon, goddess of the night, Those that slew thy virgin knight; For the which, with songs of woe, Round about her tomb they go The wolves have prey'd, and look, the gentle day, Before the wheels of Phoebus, round about Dapples the drowsy east with spots of grey But Margaret was in some fault for this, Although against her will, as it appears In the true course of all the question Well, daughter, and you gentlewomen all, Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves, And when I send for you, come hither mask'd Tush, fear not, man! We'll tip thy horns with gold, And all Europa shall rejoice at thee, As once Europa did at lusty Jove When he would play the noble beast in love Enter [Leonato's] brother [Antonio], Hero, Beatrice, Margaret, Ursula, [the ladies wearing masks] And when I liv'd I was your other wife; [Unmasks.] And when you lov'd you were my other husband Why, then your uncle, and the Prince, and Claudio Have been deceived; for they swore you did Why, then my cousin, Margaret, and Ursula Are much deceiv'd; for they did swear you did I had well hop'd thou wouldst have denied Beatrice, that I might have cudgell'd thee out of thy single life, to make thee a double-dealer, which out of question thou wilt be if my cousin do not look exceeding narrowly to thee Tush, never tell me! I take it much unkindly That thou, Iago, who hast had my purse As if the strings were thine, shouldst know of this This counter-caster, He, in good time, must his lieutenant be, And I- God bless the mark!- his Moorship's ancient 'Tis the curse of service, Preferment goes by letter and affection, And not by old gradation, where each second Stood heir to the first Now, sir, be judge yourself Whether I in any just term am affined To love the Moor Others there are Who, trimm'd in forms and visages of duty, Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves, And throwing but shows of service on their lords Do well thrive by them; and when they have lined their coats Do themselves homage For, sir, It is as sure as you are Roderigo, Were I the Moor, I would not be Iago Arise, arise! Awake the snorting citizens with the bell, Or else the devil will make a grandsire of you But thou must needs be sure My spirit and my place have in them power To make this bitter to thee I am one, sir, that comes to tell you your daughter and the Moor are now making the beast with two backs That you shall surely find him, Lead to the Sagittary the raised search, And there will I be with him O heaven! How got she out? O treason of the blood! Fathers, from hence trust not your daughters' minds By what you see them act Though in the trade of war I have slain men, Yet do I hold it very stuff o' the conscience To do no contrived murther But I pray you, sir, Are you fast married? Be assured of this, That the magnifico is much beloved, And hath in his effect a voice potential As double as the Duke's For know, Iago, But that I love the gentle Desdemona, I would not my unhoused free condition Put into circumscription and confine For the sea's worth The Duke does greet you, general, And he requires your haste-post-haste appearance, Even on the instant The galleys Have sent a dozen sequent messengers This very night at one another's heels; And many of the consuls, raised and met, Are at the Duke's already Down with him, thief! They draw on both sides The Ottomites, reverend and gracious, Steering with due course toward the isle of Rhodes, Have there injointed them with an after fleet Of thirty sail; and now they do re-stem Their backward course, bearing with frank appearance Their purposes toward Cyprus Here is the man, this Moor, whom now, it seems, Your special mandate for the state affairs Hath hither brought Did you by indirect and forced courses Subdue and poison this young maid's affections? Or came it by request, and such fair question As soul to soul affordeth? OTHELLO I do beseech you, Send for the lady to the Sagittary, And let her speak of me before her father Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances, Of moving accidents by flood and field, Of hair-breadth 'scapes i' the imminent deadly breach, Of being taken by the insolent foe And sold to slavery, of my redemption thence And portance in my travels' history; Wherein of antres vast and deserts idle, Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads touch heaven, It was my hint to speak- such was the process- And of the Cannibals that each other eat, The Anthropophagi, and men whose heads Do grow beneath their shoulders If she confess that she was half the wooer, Destruction on my head, if my bad blame Light on the man! Come hither, gentle mistress To you I am bound for life and education; My life and education both do learn me How to respect you; you are the lord of duty, I am hitherto your daughter But here's my husband, And so much duty as my mother show'd To you, preferring you before her father, So much I challenge that I may profess Due to the Moor, my lord Please it your Grace, on to the state affairs; I had rather to adopt a child than get it I here do give thee that with all my heart Which, but thou hast already, with all my heart I would keep from thee For your sake, jewel, I am glad at soul I have no other child; For thy escape would teach me tyranny, To hang clogs on them When remedies are past, the griefs are ended By seeing the worst, which late on hopes depended But words are words; I never yet did hear That the bruised heart was pierced through the ear I do agnize A natural and prompt alacrity I find in hardness and do undertake These present wars against the Ottomites That I did love the Moor to live with him, My downright violence and storm of fortunes May trumpet to the world Look to her, Moor, if thou hast eyes to see; She has deceived her father, and may thee Come, Desdemona, I have but an hour Of love, of worldly matters and direction, To spend with thee I have professed me thy friend, and I confess me knit to thy deserving with cables of perdurable toughness; I could never better stead thee than now The food that to him now is as luscious as locusts, shall be to him shortly as acerb as the coloquintida If sanctimony and a frail vow betwixt an erring barbarian and a supersubtle Venetian be not too hard for my wits and all the tribe of hell, thou shalt enjoy her- therefore make money 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 A noble ship of Venice Hath seen a grievous wreck and sufferance On most part of their fleet he hath achieved a maid That paragons description and wild fame, One that excels the quirks of blazoning pens, And in the essential vesture of creation Does tire the ingener Tempests themselves, high seas, and howling winds, The gutter'd rocks, and congregated sands, Traitors ensteep'd to clog the guiltless keel, As having sense of beauty, do omit Their mortal natures, letting go safely by The divine Desdemona If such tricks as these strip you out of your lieutenantry, it had been better you had not kissed your three fingers so oft, which now again you are most apt to play the sir in Yet again your fingers to your lips? Would they were clyster-pipes for your sake! [Trumpet within.] The Moor! I know his trumpet The heavens forbid But that our loves and comforts should increase, Even as our days do grow! OTHELLO How does my old acquaintance of this isle? Honey, you shall be well desired in Cyprus; I have found great love amongst them If thou be'st valiant- as they say base men being in love have then a nobility in their natures more than is native to them- list me Her eye must be fed; and what delight shall she have to look on the devil? When the blood is made dull with the act of sport, there should be, again to inflame it and to give satiety a fresh appetite, loveliness in favor, sympathy in years, manners, and beauties- all which the Moor is defective in Villainous thoughts, Roderigo! When these mutualities so marshal the way, hard at hand comes the master and main exercise, the incorporate conclusion Do you find some occasion to anger Cassio, either by speaking too loud, or tainting his discipline, or from what other course you please, which the time shall more favorably minister Provoke him, that he may; for even out of that will I cause these of Cyprus to mutiny, whose qualification shall come into no true taste again but by the displanting of Cassio It is Othello's pleasure, our noble and valiant general, that upon certain tidings now arrived, importing the mere perdition of the Turkish fleet, every man put himself into triumph; some to dance, some to make bonfires, each man to what sport and revels his addiction leads him; for besides these beneficial news, it is the celebration of his nuptial All offices are open, and there is full liberty of feasting from this present hour of five till the bell have told eleven Heaven bless the isle of Cyprus and our noble general Othello! Exeunt Our general cast us thus early for the love of his Desdemona; who let us not therefore blame Well, happiness to their sheets! Come, lieutenant, I have a stope of wine, and here without are a brace of Cyprus gallants that would fain have a measure to the health of black Othello 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 Now, 'mongst this flock of drunkards, Am I to put our Cassio in some action That may offend the isle Some wine, ho! [Sings.] "And let me the canakin clink, clink; And let me the canakin clink Why, he drinks you with facility your Dane dead drunk; he sweats not to overthrow your Almain; he gives your Hollander a vomit ere the next pottle can be filled O sweet England! [Sings.] "King Stephen was and-a worthy peer, His breeches cost him but a crown; He held them sixpence all too dear, With that he call'd the tailor lown Well, God's above all, and there be souls must be saved, and there be souls must not be saved Ay, but, by your leave, not before me; the lieutenant is to be saved before the ancient And do but see his vice; 'Tis to his virtue a just equinox, The one as long as the other Hold, ho! Lieutenant- sir- Montano- gentlemen- Have you forgot all place of sense and duty? Hold! the general speaks to you! Hold, hold, for shame! OTHELLO I cannot speak Any beginning to this peevish odds; And would in action glorious I had lost Those legs that brought me to a part of it! OTHELLO Now, by heaven, My blood begins my safer guides to rule, And passion, having my best judgement collied, Assays to lead the way Myself the crying fellow did pursue, Lest by his clamor- as it so fell out- The town might fall in fright When I came back- For this was brief- I found them close together, At blow and thrust, even as again they were When you yourself did part them As I am an honest man, I thought you had received some bodily wound; there is more sense in that than in reputation I will ask him for my place again; he shall tell me I am a drunkard! Had I as many mouths as Hydra, such an answer would stop them all 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 think it freely; and betimes in the morning I will beseech the virtuous Desdemona to undertake for me For whiles this honest fool Plies Desdemona to repair his fortune, And she for him pleads strongly to the Moor, I'll pour this pestilence into his ear, That she repeals him for her body's lust; And by how much she strives to do him good, She shall undo her credit with the Moor So will I turn her virtue into pitch, And out of her own goodness make the net That shall enmesh them all I do follow here in the chase, not like a hound that hunts, but one that fills up the cry Before Emilia here I give thee warrant of thy place, assure thee, If I do vow a friendship, I'll perform it To the last article What? Michael Cassio, That came awooing with you, and so many a time When I have spoke of you dispraisingly Hath ta'en your part- to have so much to do To bring him in! Trust me, I could do much- OTHELLO Men should be what they seem; Or those that be not, would they might seem none! OTHELLO I prithee, speak to me as to thy thinkings, As thou dost ruminate, and give thy worst of thoughts The worst of words Utter my thoughts? Why, say they are vile and false; As where's that palace whereinto foul things Sometimes intrude not? Who has a breast so pure, But some uncleanly apprehensions Keep leets and law-days, and in session sit With meditations lawful? OTHELLO O, beware, my lord, of jealousy! It is the green-eyed monster, which doth mock The meat it feeds on That cuckold lives in bliss Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger; But O, what damned minutes tells he o'er Who dotes, yet doubts, suspects, yet strongly loves! OTHELLO 'Tis not to make me jealous To say my wife is fair, feeds well, loves company, Is free of speech, sings, plays, and dances well; Where virtue is, these are more virtuous She did deceive her father, marrying you; And when she seem'd to shake and fear your looks, She loved them most [Returning.] My lord, I would I might entreat your honor To scan this thing no further; leave it to time O curse of marriage, That we can call these delicate creatures ours, And not their appetites! I had rather be a toad, And live upon the vapor of a dungeon, Than keep a corner in the thing I love For others' uses Your napkin is too little; He puts the handkerchief from him, and she drops it No, faith; she let it drop by negligence, And, to the advantage, I being here took't up Dangerous conceits are in their natures poisons, Which at the first are scarce found to distaste, But with a little act upon the blood Burn like the mines of sulphur But, how? how satisfied, my lord? Would you, the supervisor, grossly gape on? Behold her topp'd? OTHELLO In sleep I heard him say, "Sweet Desdemona, Let us be wary, let us hide our loves"; And then, sir, would he gripe and wring my hand, Cry, "O sweet creature!" and then kiss me hard, As if he pluck'd up kisses by the roots, That grew upon my lips; then laid his leg Over my thigh, and sigh'd and kiss'd; and then Cried, "Cursed fate that gave thee to the Moor!" OTHELLO Tell me but this; Have you not sometimes seen a handkerchief Spotted with strawberries in your wife's hand? OTHELLO Like to the Pontic Sea, Whose icy current and compulsive course Ne'er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on To the Propontic and the Hellespont, Even so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace, Shall ne'er look back, ne'er ebb to humble love, Till that a capable and wide revenge Swallow them up Now, by yond marble heaven, In the due reverence of a sacred vow Kneels I greet thy love, Not with vain thanks, but with acceptance bounteous, And will upon the instant put thee to't Damn her, lewd minx! O, damn her! Come, go with me apart; I will withdraw, To furnish me with some swift means of death For the fair devil To do this is within the compass of man's wit, and therefore I will attempt the doing it That handkerchief Did an Egyptian to my mother give; She was a charmer, and could almost read The thoughts of people A man that all his time Hath founded his good fortunes on your love, Shared dangers with you- OTHELLO They are all but stomachs and we all but food; They eat us hungerly, and when they are full They belch us Can he be angry? I have seen the cannon, When it hath blown his ranks into the air And, like the devil, from his very arm Puff'd his own brother Something sure of state, Either from Venice or some unhatch'd practice Made demonstrable here in Cyprus to him, Hath puddled his clear spirit; and in such cases Men's natures wrangle with inferior things, Though great ones are their object Nay, we must think men are not gods, Nor of them look for such observancy As fits the bridal But jealous souls will not be answer'd so; They are not ever jealous for the cause, But jealous for they are jealous Go to, woman! Throw your vile guesses in the devil's teeth, From whence you have them Or to be naked with her friend in bed An hour or more, not meaning any harm? OTHELLO They that mean virtuously and yet do so, The devil their virtue tempts and they tempt heaven What, If I had said I had seen him do you wrong? Or heard him say- as knaves be such abroad, Who having, by their own importunate suit, Or voluntary dotage of some mistress, Convinced or supplied them, cannot choose But they must blab- OTHELLO 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 There's millions now alive That nightly lie in those unproper beds Which they dare swear peculiar Whilst you were here o'erwhelmed with your grief- A passion most unsuiting such a man- Cassio came hither I shifted him away, And laid good 'scuse upon your ecstasy; Bade him anon return and here speak with me The which he promised Now will I question Cassio of Bianca, A housewife that by selling her desires Buys herself bread and clothes As he shall smile, Othello shall go mad; And his unbookish jealousy must construe Poor Cassio's smiles, gestures, and light behavior Quite in the wrong I was the other day talking on the sea bank with certain Venetians, and thither comes the bauble, and, by this hand, she falls me thus about my neck- OTHELLO I must take out the work? A likely piece of work that you should find it in your chamber and not know who left it there! This is some minx's token, and I must take out the work? There, give it your hobbyhorse But then I saw no harm, and then I heard Each syllable that breath made up between them Upon my knees, what doth your speech import? I understand a fury in your words, But not the words Come, swear it, damn thyself; Lest, being like one of heaven, the devils themselves Should fear to seize thee I cry you mercy then; I took you for that cunning whore of Venice That married with Othello 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 I cannot say "whore." It doth abhor me now I speak the word; To do the act that might the addition earn Not the world's mass of vanity could make me Every day thou daffest me with some device, Iago; and rather, as it seems to me now, keepest from me all conveniency than suppliest me with the least advantage of hope Why, now I see there's mettle in thee; and even from this instant do build on thee a better opinion than ever before Sir, there is especial commission come from Venice to depute Cassio in Othello's place My love doth so approve him, That even his stubbornness, his checks, his frowns- Prithee, unpin me- have grace and favor in them I know a lady in Venice would have walked barefoot to Palestine for a touch of his nether lip And have not we affections, Desires for sport, and frailty, as men have? Then let them use us well; else let them know, The ills we do, their ills instruct us so 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 These may be counterfeits; let's think't unsafe To come in to the cry without more help Emilia, run you to the citadel, And tell my lord and lady what hath happ'd! Will you go on? [Aside.] This is the night That either makes me or fordoes me quite When I have pluck'd the rose, I cannot give it vital growth again, It must needs wither; I'll smell it on the tree 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 O perjured woman! Thou dost stone my heart, And makest me call what I intend to do A murther, which I thought a sacrifice What noise is this? Not dead? not yet quite dead? I that am cruel am yet merciful; I would not have thee linger in thy pain O mistress, villainy hath made mocks with love! My husband say that she was false! OTHELLO Help! help, ho! help! The Moor hath kill'd my mistress! Murther, murther! Enter Montano, Gratiano, Iago, and others O, are you come, Iago? You have done well, That men must lay their murthers on your neck Villainy, villainy, villainy! I think upon't, I think, I smell't, O villainy! I thought so then [Rises.] O, she was foul! I scarce did know you, uncle; there lies your niece, Whose breath indeed these hands have newly stopp'd I saw it in his hand, It was a handkerchief, an antique token My father gave my mother O thou Othello, that wert once so good, Fall'n in the practice of a damned slave, What shall be said to thee? OTHELLO You shall close prisoner rest, Till that the nature of your fault be known To the Venetian state Then must you speak Of one that loved not wisely but too well; Of one not easily jealous, but, being wrought, Perplex'd in the extreme; of one whose hand, Like the base Indian, threw a pearl away Richer than all his tribe; of one whose subdued eyes, Albeit unused to the melting mood, Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees Their medicinal gum Gratiano, keep the house, And seize upon the fortunes of the Moor, For they succeed on you To you, Lord Governor, Remains the censure of this hellish villain, The time, the place, the torture 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 We thank you both; yet one but flatters us, As well appeareth by the cause you come; Namely, to appeal each other of high treason Now, Thomas Mowbray, do I turn to thee, And mark my greeting well; for what I speak My body shall make good upon this earth, Or my divine soul answer it in heaven- Thou art a traitor and a miscreant, Too good to be so, and too bad to live, Since the more fair and crystal is the sky, The uglier seem the clouds that in it fly 'Tis not the trial of a woman's war, The bitter clamour of two eager tongues, Can arbitrate this cause betwixt us twain; The blood is hot that must be cool'd for this First, the fair reverence of your Highness curbs me From giving reins and spurs to my free speech; Which else would post until it had return'd These terms of treason doubled down his throat Pale trembling coward, there I throw my gage, Disclaiming here the kindred of the King; And lay aside my high blood's royalty, Which fear, not reverence, makes thee to except If guilty dread have left thee so much strength As to take up mine honour's pawn, then stoop 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 Were he my brother, nay, my kingdom's heir, As he is but my father's brother's son, Now by my sceptre's awe I make a vow, Such neighbour nearness to our sacred blood Should nothing privilege him nor partialize The unstooping firmness of my upright soul Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy heart, Through the false passage of thy throat, thou liest As for the rest appeal'd, It issues from the rancour of a villain, A recreant and most degenerate traitor; Which in myself I boldly will defend, And interchangeably hurl down my gage Upon this overweening traitor's foot To prove myself a loyal gentleman Even in the best blood chamber'd in his bosom There shall your swords and lances arbitrate The swelling difference of your settled hate; Since we can not atone you, we shall see Justice design the victor's chivalry Thou dost consent In some large measure to thy father's death In that thou seest thy wretched brother die, Who was the model of thy father's life Call it not patience, Gaunt-it is despair; In suff'ring thus thy brother to be slaught'red, Thou showest the naked pathway to thy life, Teaching stern murder how to butcher thee What shall I say? To safeguard thine own life The best way is to venge my Gloucester's death Yet one word more- grief boundeth where it falls, Not with the empty hollowness, but weight The Duke of Norfolk, spightfully and bold, Stays but the summons of the appelant's trumpet The trumpets sound, and the KING enters with his nobles, GAUNT, BUSHY, BAGOT, GREEN, and others Marshal, demand of yonder champion The cause of his arrival here in arms; Ask him his name; and orderly proceed To swear him in the justice of his cause Marshal, ask yonder knight in arms, Both who he is and why he cometh hither Thus plated in habiliments of war; And formally, according to our law, Depose him in the justice of his cause On pain of death, no person be so bold Or daring-hardy as to touch the lists, Except the Marshal and such officers Appointed to direct these fair designs 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 Lo, as at English feasts, so I regreet The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet O thou, the earthly author of my blood, Whose youthful spirit, in me regenerate, Doth with a twofold vigour lift me up To reach at victory above my head, Add proof unto mine armour with thy prayers, And with thy blessings steel my lance's point, That it may enter Mowbray's waxen coat And furbish new the name of John o' Gaunt, Even in the lusty haviour of his son 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 Here standeth Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, On pain to be found false and recreant, Both to defend himself, and to approve Henry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, To God, his sovereign, and to him disloyal, Courageously and with a free desire Attending but the signal to begin Let them lay by their helmets and their spears, And both return back to their chairs again Withdraw with us; and let the trumpets sound While we return these dukes what we decree For that our kingdom's earth should not be soil'd With that dear blood which it hath fostered; And for our eyes do hate the dire aspect Of civil wounds plough'd up with neighbours' sword; And for we think the eagle-winged pride Of sky-aspiring and ambitious thoughts, With rival-hating envy, set on you To wake our peace, which in our country's cradle Draws the sweet infant breath of gentle sleep; Which so rous'd up with boist'rous untun'd drums, With harsh-resounding trumpets' dreadful bray, And grating shock of wrathful iron arms, Might from our quiet confines fright fair peace And make us wade even in our kindred's blood- Therefore we banish you our territories 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 The sly slow hours shall not determinate The dateless limit of thy dear exile; The hopeless word of 'never to return' Breathe I against thee, upon pain of life The language I have learnt these forty years, My native English, now I must forgo; And now my tongue's use is to me no more Than an unstringed viol or a harp; Or like a cunning instrument cas'd up Or, being open, put into his hands That knows no touch to tune the harmony Lay on our royal sword your banish'd hands; Swear by the duty that you owe to God, Our part therein we banish with yourselves, To keep the oath that we administer By this time, had the King permitted us, One of our souls had wand'red in the air, Banish'd this frail sepulchre of our flesh, As now our flesh is banish'd from this land- Confess thy treasons ere thou fly the realm; Since thou hast far to go, bear not along The clogging burden of a guilty soul 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 have too few to take my leave of you, When the tongue's office should be prodigal To breathe the abundant dolour of the heart The sullen passage of thy weary steps Esteem as foil wherein thou art to set The precious jewel of thy home return Nay, rather, every tedious stride I make Will but remember me what a deal of world I wander from the jewels that I love 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 O, who can hold a fire in his hand By thinking on the frosty Caucasus? Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite By bare imagination of a feast? Or wallow naked in December snow By thinking on fantastic summer's heat? O, no! the apprehension of the good Gives but the greater feeling to the worse Fell sorrow's tooth doth never rankle more Than when he bites, but lanceth not the sore I brought high Hereford, if you call him so, But to the next high way, and there I left him He is our cousin, cousin; but 'tis doubt, When time shall call him home from banishment, Whether our kinsman come to see his friends Ourself, and Bushy, Bagot here, and Green, Observ'd his courtship to the common people; How he did seem to dive into their hearts With humble and familiar courtesy; What reverence he did throw away on slaves, Wooing poor craftsmen with the craft of smiles And patient underbearing of his fortune, As 'twere to banish their affects with him 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 Now put it, God, in the physician's mind To help him to his grave immediately! The lining of his coffers shall make coats To deck our soldiers for these Irish wars Where words are scarce, they are seldom spent in vain; For they breathe truth that breathe their words -in pain 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 The King is come; deal mildly with his youth, For young hot colts being rag'd do rage the more 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 Since thou dost seek to kill my name in me, I mock my name, great king, to flatter thee Now He that made me knows I see thee ill; Ill in myself to see, and in thee seeing ill Thy death-bed is no lesser than thy land Wherein thou liest in reputation sick; And thou, too careless patient as thou art, Commit'st thy anointed body to the cure Of those physicians that first wounded thee 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 Join with the present sickness that I have; And thy unkindness be like crooked age, To crop at once a too long withered flower Live in thy shame, but die not shame with thee! These words hereafter thy tormentors be! Convey me to my bed, then to my grave And let them die that age and sullens have; For both hast thou, and both become the grave We must supplant those rough rug-headed kerns, Which live like venom where no venom else But only they have privilege to live His noble hand Did win what he did spend, and spent not that Which his triumphant father's hand had won What will ensue hereof there's none can tell; But by bad courses may be understood That their events can never fall out good 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 He hath not money for these Irish wars, His burdenous taxations notwithstanding, But by the robbing of the banish'd Duke We see the very wreck that we must suffer; And unavoided is the danger now For suffering so the causes of our wreck Not so; even through the hollow eyes of death I spy life peering; but I dare not say How near the tidings of our comfort is We three are but thyself, and, speaking so, Thy words are but as thoughts; therefore be bold 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 Ah, madam, 'tis too true; and that is worse, The Lord Northumberland, his son young Henry Percy, The Lords of Ross, Beaumond, and Willoughby, With all their powerful friends, are fled to him My lord, I had forgot to tell your lordship, To-day, as I came by, I called there- But I shall grieve you to report the rest I would to God, So my untruth had not provok'd him to it, The King had cut off my head with my brother's Go, fellow, get thee home, provide some carts, And bring away the armour that is there And that is the wavering commons; for their love Lies in their purses; and whoso empties them, By so much fills their hearts with deadly hate 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 No, my good lord; he hath forsook the court, Broken his staff of office, and dispers'd The household of the King But he, my lord, is gone to Ravenspurgh, To offer service to the Duke of Hereford; And sent me over by Berkeley, to discover What power the Duke of York had levied there; Then with directions to repair to Ravenspurgh 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 So, fare you well; Unless you please to enter in the castle, And there repose you for this night My Lord of Salisbury, we have stay'd ten days And hardly kept our countrymen together, And yet we hear no tidings from the King; Therefore we will disperse ourselves Stay yet another day, thou trusty Welshman; The King reposeth all his confidence in thee 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 You have misled a prince, a royal king, A happy gentleman in blood and lineaments, By you unhappied and disfigured clean; You have in manner with your sinful hours Made a divorce betwixt his queen and him; Broke the possession of a royal bed, And stain'd the beauty of a fair queen's cheeks With tears drawn from her eyes by your foul wrongs; Myself-a prince by fortune of my birth, Near to the King in blood, and near in love Till you did make him misinterpret me- Have stoop'd my neck under your injuries And sigh'd my English breath in foreign clouds, Eating the bitter bread of banishment, Whilst you have fed upon my signories, Dispark'd my parks and fell'd my forest woods, From my own windows torn my household coat, Raz'd out my imprese, leaving me no sign Save men's opinions and my living blood To show the world I am a gentleman My comfort is that heaven will take our souls, And plague injustice with the pains of hell Dear earth, I do salute thee with my hand, Though rebels wound thee with their horses' hoofs As a long-parted mother with her child Plays fondly with her tears and smiles in meeting, So weeping-smiling greet I thee, my earth, And do thee favours with my royal hands 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 Not all the water in the rough rude sea Can wash the balm off from an anointed king; The breath of worldly men cannot depose The deputy elected by the Lord Cry woe, destruction, ruin, and decay- The worst is death, and death will have his day Where is the Earl of Wiltshire? Where is Bagot? What is become of Bushy? Where is Green? That they have let the dangerous enemy Measure our confines with such peaceful steps? If we prevail, their heads shall pay for it 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 talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs; Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth My lord, wise men ne'er sit and wail their woes, But presently prevent the ways to wail The time hath been, Would you have been so brief with him, he would Have been so brief with you to shorten you, For taking so the head, your whole head's length Methinks King Richard and myself should meet With no less terror than the elements Of fire and water, when their thund'ring shock At meeting tears the cloudy cheeks of heaven 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 Enter on the walls, the KING, the BISHOP OF CARLISLE, AUMERLE, SCROOP, and SALISBURY See, see, King Richard doth himself appear, As doth the blushing discontented sun From out the fiery portal of the east, When he perceives the envious clouds are bent To dim his glory and to stain the track Of his bright passage to the occident 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 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 In the base court? Base court, where kings grow base, To come at traitors' calls, and do them grace Fair cousin, you debase your princely knee To make the base earth proud with kissing it 'Twill make me think the world is full of rubs And that my fortune runs against the bias My legs can keep no measure in delight, When my poor heart no measure keeps in grief; Therefore no dancing, girl; some other sport Go, bind thou up yon dangling apricocks, Which, like unruly children, make their sire Stoop with oppression of their prodigal weight; Give some supportance to the bending twigs You thus employ'd, I will go root away The noisome weeds which without profit suck The soil's fertility from wholesome flowers He that hath suffer'd this disorder'd spring Hath now himself met with the fall of leaf; The weeds which his broad-spreading leaves did shelter, That seem'd in eating him to hold him up, Are pluck'd up root and all by Bolingbroke- I mean the Earl of Wiltshire, Bushy, Green O, what pity is it That he had not so trimm'd and dress'd his land As we this garden! We at time of year Do wound the bark, the skin of our fruit trees, Lest, being over-proud in sap and blood, With too much riches it confound itself; Had he done so to great and growing men, They might have Ev'd to bear, and he to taste Their fruits of duty Now, Bagot, freely speak thy mind- What thou dost know of noble Gloucester's death; Who wrought it with the King, and who perform'd The bloody office of his timeless end 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 I say thou liest, And will maintain what thou hast said is false In thy heart-blood, through being all too base To stain the temper of my knightly sword An if I do not, may my hands rot of And never brandish more revengeful steel Over the glittering helmet of my foe! ANOTHER LORD Dishonourable boy! That lie shall lie so heavy on my sword That it shall render vengeance and revenge Till thou the lie-giver and that lie do he In earth as quiet as thy father's skull Besides, I heard the banish'd Norfolk say That thou, Aumerle, didst send two of thy men To execute the noble Duke at Calais 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 Marry, God forbid! Worst in this royal presence may I speak, Yet best beseeming me to speak the truth 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 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 The cares I give I have, though given away; They tend the crown, yet still with me they stay Must I do so? And must I ravel out My weav'd-up follies? Gentle Northumberland, If thy offences were upon record, Would it not shame thee in so fair a troop To read a lecture of them? If thou wouldst, There shouldst thou find one heinous article, Containing the deposing of a king And cracking the strong warrant of an oath, Mark'd with a blot, damn'd in the book of heaven No deeper wrinkles yet? Hath sorrow struck So many blows upon this face of mine And made no deeper wounds? O flatt'ring glass, Like to my followers in prosperity, Thou dost beguile me! Was this face the face That every day under his household roof Did keep ten thousand men? Was this the face That like the sun did make beholders wink? Is this the face which fac'd so many follies That was at last out-fac'd by Bolingbroke? A brittle glory shineth in this face; As brittle as the glory is the face; [Dashes the glass against the ground] For there it is, crack'd in a hundred shivers my grief lies all within; And these external manner of laments Are merely shadows to the unseen grief That swells with silence in the tortur'd soul 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 The woe's to come; the children yet unborn Shall feel this day as sharp to them as thorn Enter KING RICHARD and Guard But soft, but see, or rather do not see, My fair rose wither In winter's tedious nights sit by the fire With good old folks, and let them tell thee tales Of woeful ages long ago betid; And ere thou bid good night, to quit their griefs Tell thou the lamentable tale of me, And send the hearers weeping to their beds; For why, the senseless brands will sympathize The heavy accent of thy moving tongue, And in compassion weep the fire out; And some will mourn in ashes, some coal-black, For the deposing of a rightful king My lord, the mind of Bolingbroke is chang'd; You must to Pomfret, not unto the Tower Thou shalt think Though he divide the realm and give thee half It is too little, helping him to all; And he shall think that thou, which knowest the way To plant unrightful kings, wilt know again, Being ne'er so little urg'd, another way To pluck him headlong from the usurped throne Doubly divorc'd! Bad men, you violate A twofold marriage-'twixt my crown and me, And then betwixt me and my married wife Weep thou for me in France, I for thee here; Better far off than near, be ne'er the near Twice for one step I'll groan, the way being short, And piece the way out with a heavy heart Come, come, in wooing sorrow let's be brief, Since, wedding it, there is such length in grief What seal is that that without thy bosom? Yea, look'st thou pale? Let me see the writing What should you fear? 'Tis nothing but some bond that he is ent'red into For gay apparel 'gainst the triumph-day Exit servant Now, by mine honour, by my life, my troth, I will appeach the villain Thou fond mad woman, Wilt thou conceal this dark conspiracy? A dozen of them here have ta'en the sacrament, And interchangeably set down their hands To kill the King at Oxford 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 I'll not be long behind; though I be old, I doubt not but to ride as fast as York; And never will I rise up from the ground Till Bolingbroke have pardon'd thee His answer was, he would unto the stews, And from the common'st creature pluck a glove And wear it as a favour; and with that He would unhorse the lustiest challenger Intended or committed was this fault? If on the first, how heinous e'er it be, To win thy after-love I pardon thee Peruse this writing here, and thou shalt know The treason that my haste forbids me show So shall my virtue be his vice's bawd; And he shall spend mine honour with his shame, As thriftless sons their scraping fathers' gold Thou kill'st me in his life; giving him breath, The traitor lives, the true man's put to death Our scene is alt'red from a serious thing, And now chang'd to 'The Beggar and the King.' My dangerous cousin, let your mother in This fest'red joint cut off, the rest rest sound; This let alone will all the rest confound His weary joints would gladly rise, I know; Our knees still kneel till to the ground they grow do not say 'stand up'; Say 'pardon' first, and afterwards 'stand up.' An if I were thy nurse, thy tongue to teach, 'Pardon' should be the first word of thy speech 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 Thine eye begins to speak, set thy tongue there; Or in thy piteous heart plant thou thine ear, That hearing how our plaints and prayers do pierce, Pity may move thee 'pardon' to rehearse But for our trusty brother-in-law and the Abbot, With all the rest of that consorted crew, Destruction straight shall dog them at the heels They shall not live within this world, I swear, But I will have them, if I once know where And, speaking it, he wishtly look'd on me, As who should say 'I would thou wert the man That would divorce this terror from my heart'; Meaning the King at Pomfret 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 Thoughts tending to content flatter themselves That they are not the first of fortune's slaves, Nor shall not be the last; like silly beggars Who, sitting in the stocks, refuge their shame, That many have and others must sit there; And in this thought they find a kind of ease, Bearing their own misfortunes on the back Of such as have before endur'd the like How sour sweet music is When time is broke and no proportion kept! So is it in the music of men's lives My thoughts are minutes; and with sighs they jar Their watches on unto mine eyes, the outward watch, Whereto my finger, like a dial's point, Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears Now sir, the sound that tells what hour it is Are clamorous groans which strike upon my heart, Which is the bell 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 Kind uncle York, the latest news we hear Is that the rebels have consum'd with fire Our town of Ciceter in Gloucestershire; But whether they be ta'en or slain we hear not The next news is, I have to London sent The heads of Salisbury, Spencer, Blunt, and Kent Choose out some secret place, some reverend room, More than thou hast, and with it joy thy life; So as thou liv'st in peace, die free from strife; For though mine enemy thou hast ever been, High sparks of honour in thee have I seen Herein all breathless lies The mightiest of thy greatest enemies, Richard of Bordeaux, by me hither brought Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York; And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house In the deep bosom of the ocean buried Grim-visag'd war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front, And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds To fright the souls of fearful adversaries, He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber To the lascivious pleasing of a lute 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 Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous, By drunken prophecies, libels, and dreams, To set my brother Clarence and the King In deadly hate the one against the other; And if King Edward be as true and just As I am subtle, false, and treacherous, This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up- About a prophecy which says that G Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be 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 His Majesty hath straitly given in charge That no man shall have private conference, Of what degree soever, with your brother 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 I do beseech your Grace to pardon me, and withal Forbear your conference with the noble Duke 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 With patience, noble lord, as prisoners must; But I shall live, my lord, to give them thanks That were the cause of my imprisonment I'll in to urge his hatred more to Clarence With lies well steel'd with weighty arguments; And, if I fail not in my deep intent, Clarence hath not another day to live; Which done, God take King Edward to his mercy, And leave the world for me to bustle in! For then I'll marry Warwick's youngest daughter Clarence still breathes; Edward still lives and reigns; When they are gone, then must I count my gains 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 Avaunt, thou dreadful minister of hell! Thou hadst but power over his mortal body, His soul thou canst not have; therefore, be gone O, gentlemen, see, see! Dead Henry's wounds Open their congeal'd mouths and bleed afresh And by despairing shalt thou stand excused For doing worthy vengeance on thyself That didst unworthy slaughter upon others Queen Margaret saw Thy murd'rous falchion smoking in his blood; The which thou once didst bend against her breast, But that thy brothers beat aside the point I was provoked by her sland'rous tongue That laid their guilt upon my guiltless shoulders If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide, These nails should rend that beauty from my cheeks 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 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 Speak it again, and even with the word This hand, which for thy love did kill thy love, Shall for thy love kill a far truer love; To both their deaths shalt thou be accessary Look how my ring encompasseth thy finger, Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart; Wear both of them, for both of them are thine 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 The King, on his own royal disposition And not provok'd by any suitor else- Aiming, belike, at your interior hatred That in your outward action shows itself Against my children, brothers, and myself- Makes him to send that he may learn the ground Hie thee to hell for shame and leave this world, Thou cacodemon; there thy kingdom is My Lord of Gloucester, in those busy days Which here you urge to prove us enemies, We follow'd then our lord, our sovereign king As little joy, my lord, as you suppose You should enjoy were you this country's king, As little joy you may suppose in me That I enjoy, being the Queen thereof I cry thee mercy then, for I did think That thou hadst call'd me all these bitter names The day will come that thou shalt wish for me To help thee curse this poisonous bunch-back'd toad 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 Now fair befall thee and thy noble house! Thy garments are not spotted with our blood, Nor thou within the compass of my curse O Buckingham, take heed of yonder dog! Look when he fawns, he bites; and when he bites, His venom tooth will rankle to the death 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 I cannot blame her; by God's holy Mother, She hath had too much wrong; and I repent My part thereof that I have done to her Clarence, who I indeed have cast in darkness, I do beweep to many simple gulls; Namely, to Derby, Hastings, Buckingham; And tell them 'tis the Queen and her allies That stir the King against the Duke my brother Now they believe it, and withal whet me To be reveng'd on Rivers, Dorset, Grey; But then I sigh and, with a piece of Scripture, Tell them that God bids us do good for evil 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 Methoughts that I had broken from the Tower And was embark'd to cross to Burgundy; And in my company my brother Gloucester, Who from my cabin tempted me to walk Upon the hatches As we pac'd along Upon the giddy footing of the hatches, Methought that Gloucester stumbled, and in falling Struck me, that thought to stay him, overboard Into the tumbling billows of the main 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 Methought I had; and often did I strive To yield the ghost, but still the envious flood Stopp'd in my soul and would not let it forth To find the empty, vast, and wand'ring air; But smother'd it within my panting bulk, Who almost burst to belch it in the sea O, then began the tempest to my soul! I pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood With that sour ferryman which poets write of, Unto the kingdom of perpetual night Then came wand'ring by A shadow like an angel, with bright hair Dabbled in blood, and he shriek'd out aloud 'Clarence is come-false, fleeting, perjur'd Clarence, That stabb'd me in the field by Tewksbury Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours, Makes the night morning and the noontide night Princes have but their titles for their glories, An outward honour for an inward toil; And for unfelt imaginations They often feel a world of restless cares, So that between their tides and low name There's nothing differs but the outward fame You scarcely have the hearts to tell me so, And therefore cannot have the hearts to do it Will you then Spurn at his edict and fulfil a man's? Take heed; for he holds vengeance in his hand To hurl upon their heads that break his law And that same vengeance doth he hurl on thee For false forswearing, and for murder too; Thou didst receive the sacrament to fight In quarrel of the house of Lancaster And like a traitor to the name of God Didst break that vow; and with thy treacherous blade Unripp'dst the bowels of thy sov'reign's son Thy brother's love, our duty, and thy faults, Provoke us hither now to slaughter thee Why, so he doth, when he delivers you From this earth's thraldom to the joys of heaven I would he knew that I had sav'd his brother! Take thou the fee, and tell him what I say; For I repent me that the Duke is slain 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 Take heed you dally not before your king; Lest He that is the supreme King of kings Confound your hidden falsehood and award Either of you to be the other's end There wanteth now our brother Gloucester here To make the blessed period of this peace Gloucester, we have done deeds of charity, Made peace of enmity, fair love of hate, Between these swelling wrong-incensed peers I do not know that Englishman alive With whom my soul is any jot at odds More than the infant that is born to-night My sovereign lord, I do beseech your Highness To take our brother Clarence to your grace The forfeit, sovereign, of my servant's life; Who slew to-day a riotous gentleman Lately attendant on the Duke of Norfolk In common worldly things 'tis called ungrateful With dull unwillingness to repay a debt Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent; Much more to be thus opposite with heaven, For it requires the royal debt it lent you All of us have cause To wail the dimming of our shining star; But none can help our harms by wailing them You cloudy princes and heart-sorrowing peers, That bear this heavy mutual load of moan, Now cheer each other in each other's love Me seemeth good that, with some little train, Forthwith from Ludlow the young prince be fet Hither to London, to be crown'd our King Yet, since it is but green, it should be put To no apparent likelihood of breach, Which haply by much company might be urg'd; Therefore I say with noble Buckingham That it is meet so few should fetch the Prince Then be it so; and go we to determine Who they shall be that straight shall post to Ludlow My lord, whoever journeys to the Prince, For God sake, let not us two stay at home; For by the way I'll sort occasion, As index to the story we late talk'd of, To part the Queen's proud kindred from the Prince 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 Before the days of change, still is it so; By a divine instinct men's minds mistrust Ensuing danger; as by proof we see The water swell before a boist'rous storm Last night, I hear, they lay at Stony Stratford, And at Northampton they do rest to-night; To-morrow or next day they will be here Grandam, one night as we did sit at supper, My uncle Rivers talk'd how I did grow More than my brother Good faith, good faith, the saying did not hold In him that did object the same to thee 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 For my part, I'll resign unto your Grace The seal I keep; and so betide to me As well I tender you and all of yours! Go, I'll conduct you to the sanctuary Sweet Prince, the untainted virtue of your years Hath not yet div'd into the world's deceit; Nor more can you distinguish of a man Than of his outward show; which, God He knows, Seldom or never jumpeth with the heart Those uncles which you want were dangerous; Your Grace attended to their sug'red words But look'd not on the poison of their hearts The tender Prince Would fain have come with me to meet your Grace, But by his mother was perforce withheld The benefit thereof is always granted To those whose dealings have deserv'd the place And those who have the wit to claim the place This Prince hath neither claim'd it nor deserv'd it, And therefore, in mine opinion, cannot have it Then, taking him from thence that is not there, You break no privilege nor charter there But say, my lord, it were not regist'red, Methinks the truth should Eve from age to age, As 'twere retail'd to all posterity, Even to the general all-ending day 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 go, gentle Catesby, And, as it were far off, sound thou Lord Hastings How he doth stand affected to our purpose; And summon him to-morrow to the Tower, To sit about the coronation Tell him, Catesby, His ancient knot of dangerous adversaries To-morrow are let blood at Pomfret Castle; And bid my lord, for joy of this good news, Give Mistress Shore one gentle kiss the more And, look when I am King, claim thou of me The earldom of Hereford and all the movables Whereof the King my brother was possess'd Then certifies your lordship that this night He dreamt the boar had razed off his helm 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 Therefore he sends to know your lordship's pleasure- If you will presently take horse with him And with all speed post with him toward the north To shun the danger that his soul divines Tell him his fears are shallow, without instance; And for his dreams, I wonder he's so simple To trust the mock'ry of unquiet slumbers Go, bid thy master rise and come to me; And we will both together to the Tower, Where, he shall see, the boar will use us kindly It is a reeling world indeed, my lord; And I believe will never stand upright Till Richard wear the garland of the realm I'll have this crown of mine cut from my shoulders Before I'll see the crown so foul misplac'd Ay, on my life; and hopes to find you forward Upon his party for the gain thereof; And thereupon he sends you this good news, That this same very day your enemies, The kindred of the Queen, must die at Pomfret Indeed, I am no mourner for that news, Because they have been still my adversaries; But that I'll give my voice on Richard's side To bar my master's heirs in true descent, God knows I will not do it to the death But I shall laugh at this a twelve month hence, That they which brought me in my master's hate, I live to look upon their tragedy The Princes both make high account of you- [Aside] For they account his head upon the bridge The lords at Pomfret, when they rode from London, Were jocund and suppos'd their states were sure, And they indeed had no cause to mistrust; But yet you see how soon the day o'ercast They, for their truth, might better wear their heads Than some that have accus'd them wear their hats I am in your debt for your last exercise; Come the next Sabbath, and I will content you What, talking with a priest, Lord Chamberlain! Your friends at Pomfret, they do need the priest I do, my lord, but long I cannot stay there; I shall return before your lordship thence O Pomfret, Pomfret! O thou bloody prison, Fatal and ominous to noble peers! Within the guilty closure of thy walls RICHARD the Second here was hack'd to death; And for more slander to thy dismal seat, We give to thee our guiltless blood to drink I thank his Grace, I know he loves me well; But for his purpose in the coronation I have not sounded him, nor he deliver'd His gracious pleasure any way therein Had you not come upon your cue, my lord, WILLIAM Lord Hastings had pronounc'd your part- I mean, your voice for crowning of the King My lord of Ely, when I was last in Holborn I saw good strawberries in your garden there [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 To-morrow, in my judgment, is too sudden; For I myself am not so well provided As else I would be, were the day prolong'd The tender love I bear your Grace, my lord, Makes me most forward in this princely presence To doom th' offenders, whosoe'er they be And this is Edward's wife, that monstrous witch, Consorted with that harlot strumpet Shore, That by their witchcraft thus have marked me Three times to-day my foot-cloth horse did stumble, And started when he look'd upon the Tower, As loath to bear me to the slaughter-house O momentary grace of mortal men, Which we more hunt for than the grace of God! Who builds his hope in air of your good looks Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast, Ready with every nod to tumble down Into the fatal bowels of the deep I took him for the plainest harmless creature That breath'd upon the earth a Christian; Made him my book, wherein my soul recorded The history of all her secret thoughts Now, fair befall you! He deserv'd his death; And your good Graces both have well proceeded To warn false traitors from the like attempts 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 And to that end we wish'd your lordship here, T' avoid the the the censures of the carping world Tell them how Edward put to death a citizen Only for saying he would make his son Heir to the crown-meaning indeed his house, Which by the sign thereof was termed so Tell them, when that my mother went with child Of that insatiate Edward, noble York My princely father then had wars in France And, by true computation of the time, Found that the issue was not his begot; Which well appeared in his lineaments, Being nothing like the noble Duke my father Yet touch this sparingly, as 'twere far off; Because, my lord, you know my mother lives If you thrive well, bring them to Baynard's Castle; Where you shall find me well accompanied With reverend fathers and well learned bishops Exeunt all but GLOUCESTER Now will I go to take some privy order To draw the brats of Clarence out of sight, And to give order that no manner person Have any time recourse unto the Princes 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 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 I do beseech your Grace to pardon me, Who, earnest in the service of my God, Deferr'd the visitation of my friends If not to answer, you might haply think Tongue-tied ambition, not replying, yielded To bear the golden yoke of sovereignty, Which fondly you would here impose on me; If to reprove you for this suit of yours, So season'd with your faithful love to me, Then, on the other side, I check'd my friends 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 So say we too, but not by Edward's wife; For first was he contract to Lady Lucy- Your mother lives a witness to his vow- And afterward by substitute betroth'd To Bona, sister to the King of France Re-enter BUCKINGHAM and the rest Cousin of Buckingham, and sage grave men, Since you will buckle fortune on my back, To bear her burden, whe'er I will or no, I must have patience to endure the load; But if black scandal or foul-fac'd reproach Attend the sequel of your imposition, Your mere enforcement shall acquittance me From all the impure blots and stains thereof; For God doth know, and you may partly see, How far I am from the desire of this Who meets us here? My niece Plantagenet, Led in the hand of her kind aunt of Gloucester? Now, for my life, she's wand'ring to the Tower, On pure heart's love, to greet the tender Princes No farther than the Tower; and, as I guess, Upon the like devotion as yourselves, To gratulate the gentle Princes there Then bring me to their sights; I'll bear thy blame, And take thy office from thee on my peril [To ANNE] Come, madam, you must straight to Westminster, There to be crowned Richard's royal queen O Dorset, speak not to me, get thee gone! Death and destruction dogs thee at thy heels; Thy mother's name is ominous to children 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 Take all the swift advantage of the hours; You shall have letters from me to my son In your behalf, to meet you on the way Exit PAGE The deep-revolving witty Buckingham No more shall be the neighbour to my counsels Know, my loving lord, The Marquis Dorset, as I hear, is fled To Richmond, in the parts where he abides Inquire me out some mean poor gentleman, Whom I will marry straight to Clarence' daughter- The boy is foolish, and I fear not him Two deep enemies, Foes to my rest, and my sweet sleep's disturbers, Are they that I would have thee deal upon Dighton and Forrest, who I did suborn To do this piece of ruthless butchery, Albeit they were flesh'd villains, bloody dogs, Melted with tenderness and mild compassion, Wept like two children in their deaths' sad story 'O, thus' quoth Dighton 'lay the gentle babes'- 'Thus, thus,' quoth Forrest 'girdling one another Within their alabaster innocent arms Their lips were four red roses on a stalk, And in their summer beauty kiss'd each other 'We smothered The most replenished sweet work of nature That from the prime creation e'er she framed.' Hence both are gone with conscience and remorse They could not speak; and so I left them both, To bear this tidings to the bloody King The chaplain of the Tower hath buried them; But where, to say the truth, I do not know Come to me, Tyrrel, soon at after supper, When thou shalt tell the process of their death Morton is fled to Richmond; And Buckingham, back'd with the hardy Welshmen, Is in the field, and still his power increaseth 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 Ah, that thou wouldst as soon afford a grave As thou canst yield a melancholy seat! Then would I hide my bones, not rest them here [Coming forward] If ancient sorrow be most reverend, Give mine the benefit of seniory, And let my griefs frown on the upper hand Thy Edward he is dead, that kill'd my Edward; The other Edward dead, to quit my Edward; Young York he is but boot, because both they Match'd not the high perfection of my loss Thy Clarence he is dead that stabb'd my Edward; And the beholders of this frantic play, Th' adulterate Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Grey, Untimely smother'd in their dusky graves Richard yet lives, hell's black intelligencer; Only reserv'd their factor to buy souls And send them thither I Call'd thee then vain flourish of my fortune; I call'd thee then poor shadow, painted queen, The presentation of but what I was, The flattering index of a direful pageant, One heav'd a-high to be hurl'd down below, A mother only mock'd with two fair babes, A dream of what thou wast, a garish flag To be the aim of every dangerous shot, A sign of dignity, a breath, a bubble, A queen in jest, only to fill the scene Thus hath the course of justice whirl'd about And left thee but a very prey to time, Having no more but thought of what thou wast To torture thee the more, being what thou art Thou didst 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 Farewell, York's wife, and queen of sad mischance; These English woes shall make me smile in France 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 Bett'ring thy loss makes the bad-causer worse; Revolving this will teach thee how to curse Windy attorneys to their client woes, Airy succeeders of intestate joys, Poor breathing orators of miseries, Let them have scope; though what they will impart Help nothing else, yet do they case the heart Go with me, And in the breath of bitter words let's smother My damned son that thy two sweet sons smother'd A flourish, trumpets! Strike alarum, drums! Let not the heavens hear these tell-tale women Rail on the Lord's anointed No, by the holy rood, thou know'st it well Thou cam'st on earth to make the earth my hell 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 My babes were destin'd to a fairer death, If grace had bless'd thee with a fairer life No doubt the murd'rous knife was dull and blunt Till it was whetted on thy stone-hard heart To revel in the entrails of my lambs Even all I have-ay, and myself and all Will I withal endow a child of thine; So in the Lethe of thy angry soul Thou drown the sad remembrance of those wrongs Which thou supposest I have done to thee So from thy soul's love didst thou love her brothers, And from my heart's love I do thank thee for it Go, then, my mother, to thy daughter go; Make bold her bashful years with your experience; Prepare her ears to hear a wooer's tale; Put in her tender heart th' aspiring flame Of golden sovereignty; acquaint the Princes With the sweet silent hours of marriage joys O, no, my reasons are too deep and dead- Too deep and dead, poor infants, in their graves If something thou wouldst swear to be believ'd, Swear then by something that thou hast not wrong'd If thou didst fear to break an oath with Him, The unity the King my husband made Thou hadst not broken, nor my brothers died If thou hadst fear'd to break an oath by Him, Th' imperial metal, circling now thy head, Had grac'd the tender temples of my child; And both the Princes had been breathing here, Which now, two tender bedfellows for dust, Thy broken faith hath made the prey for worms That thou hast wronged in the time o'erpast; For I myself have many tears to wash Hereafter time, for time past wrong'd by thee The children live whose fathers thou hast slaughter'd, Ungovern'd youth, to wail it in their age; The parents live whose children thou hast butcheed, Old barren plants, to wail it with their age But in your daughter's womb I bury them; Where, in that nest of spicery, they will breed Selves of themselves, to your recomforture 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 'Tis thought that Richmond is their admiral; And there they hull, expecting but the aid Of Buckingham to welcome them ashore Stirr'd up by Dorset, Buckingham, and Morton, He makes for England here to claim the crown Is the chair empty? Is the sword unsway'd? Is the King dead, the empire unpossess'd? What heir of York is there alive but we? And who is England's King but great York's heir? Then tell me what makes he upon the seas Unless for that he comes to be your liege, You cannot guess wherefore the Welshman comes In Kent, my liege, the Guilfords are in arms; And every hour more competitors Flock to the rebels, and their power grows strong Out on you, owls! Nothing but songs of death? [He strikes him] There, take thou that till thou bring better news The news I have to tell your Majesty Is that by sudden floods and fall of waters Buckingham's army is dispers'd and scatter'd; And he himself wand'red away alone, No man knows whither But this good comfort bring I to your Highness- The Britaine navy is dispers'd by tempest March on, march on, since we are up in arms; If not to fight with foreign enemies, Yet to beat down these rebels here at home That the Earl of Richmond Is with a mighty power landed at Milford Is colder tidings, yet they must be told That in the sty of the most deadly boar My son George Stanley is frank'd up in hold; If I revolt, off goes young George's head; The fear of that holds off my present aid Sir Walter Herbert, a renowned soldier; SIR Gilbert Talbot, Sir William Stanley, OXFORD, redoubted Pembroke, Sir James Blunt, And Rice ap Thomas, with a valiant crew; And many other of great name and worth; And towards London do they bend their power, If by the way they be not fought withal Thus doth He force the swords of wicked men To turn their own points in their masters' bosoms '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 The wretched, bloody, and usurping boar, That spoil'd your summer fields and fruitful vines, Swills your warm blood like wash, and makes his trough In your embowell'd bosoms-this foul swine Is now even in the centre of this isle, Near to the town of Leicester, as we learn Why, our battalia trebles that account; Besides, the King's name is a tower of strength, Which they upon the adverse faction want Exeunt Enter, on the other side of the field, RICHMOND, SIR WILLIAM BRANDON, OXFORD, DORSET, and others The Earl of Pembroke keeps his regiment; Good Captain Blunt, bear my good night to him, And by the second hour in the morning Desire the Earl to see me in my tent Unless I have mista'en his colours much- Which well I am assur'd I have not done- His regiment lies half a mile at least South from the mighty power of the King Send out a pursuivant-at-arms To Stanley's regiment; bid him bring his power Before sunrising, lest his son George fall Into the blind cave of eternal night Thomas the Earl of Surrey and himself, Much about cock-shut time, from troop to troop Went through the army, cheering up the soldiers I, as I may-that which I would I cannot- With best advantage will deceive the time And aid thee in this doubtful shock of arms; But on thy side I may not be too forward, Lest, being seen, thy brother, tender George, Be executed in his father's sight Exeunt all but RICHMOND O Thou, whose captain I account myself, Look on my forces with a gracious eye; Put in their hands Thy bruising irons of wrath, That they may crush down with a heavy fall The usurping helmets of our adversaries! Make us Thy ministers of chastisement, That we may praise Thee in the victory! To Thee I do commend my watchful soul Ere I let fall the windows of mine eyes [To RICHARD] When I was mortal, my anointed body By thee was punched full of deadly holes [To RICHMOND] Virtuous and holy, be thou conqueror! Harry, that prophesied thou shouldst be King, Doth comfort thee in thy sleep Despair and die! [To RICHMOND] Thou offspring of the house of Lancaster, The wronged heirs of York do pray for thee 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] Sleep, Richmond, sleep in peace, and wake in joy; Good angels guard thee from the boar's annoy! Live, and beget a happy race of kings! Edward's unhappy sons do bid thee flourish [To RICHARD] The first was I that help'd thee to the crown; The last was I that felt thy tyranny And wherefore should they, since that I myself Find in myself no pity to myself? Methought the souls of all that I had murder'd Came to my tent, and every one did threat To-morrow's vengeance on the head of Richard The early village-cock Hath twice done salutation to the morn; Your friends are up and buckle on their armour God and our good cause fight upon our side; The prayers of holy saints and wronged souls, Like high-rear'd bulwarks, stand before our faces; Richard except, those whom we fight against Had rather have us win than him they follow For me, the ransom of my bold attempt Shall be this cold corpse on the earth's cold face; But if I thrive, the gain of my attempt The least of you shall share his part thereof He smil'd, and said 'The better for our purpose.' KING He was in the right; and so indeed it is My foreward shall be drawn out all in length, Consisting equally of horse and foot; Our archers shall be placed in the midst John Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Earl of Surrey, Shall have the leading of this foot and horse [Reads] 'Jockey of Norfolk, be not so bold, For Dickon thy master is bought and sold.' A thing devised by the enemy Let not our babbling dreams affright our souls; Conscience is but a word that cowards use, Devis'd at first to keep the strong in awe March on, join bravely, let us to it pell-mell; If not to heaven, then hand in hand to hell You sleeping safe, they bring to you unrest; You having lands, and bless'd with beauteous wives, They would restrain the one, distain the other And who doth lead them but a paltry fellow, Long kept in Britaine at our mother's cost? A milk-sop, one that never in his life Felt so much cold as over shoes in snow? Let's whip these stragglers o'er the seas again; Lash hence these over-weening rags of France, These famish'd beggars, weary of their lives; Who, but for dreaming on this fond exploit, For want of means, poor rats, had hang'd themselves 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 Advance our standards, set upon our foes; Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint George, Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons! Upon them! Victory sits on our helms His horse is slain, and all on foot he fights, Seeking for Richmond in the throat of death God and your arms be prais'd, victorious friends; The day is ours, the bloody dog is dead He is, my lord, and safe in Leicester town, Whither, if it please you, we may now withdraw us Smile heaven upon this fair conjunction, That long have frown'd upon their emnity! What traitor hears me, and says not Amen? England hath long been mad, and scarr'd herself; The brother blindly shed the brother's blood, The father rashly slaughter'd his own son, The son, compell'd, been butcher to the sire; All this divided York and Lancaster, Divided in their dire division, O, now let Richmond and Elizabeth, The true succeeders of each royal house, By God's fair ordinance conjoin together! And let their heirs, God, if thy will be so, Enrich the time to come with smooth-fac'd peace, With smiling plenty, and fair prosperous days! Abate the edge of traitors, gracious Lord, That would reduce these bloody days again And make poor England weep in streams of blood! Let them not live to taste this land's increase That would with treason wound this fair land's peace! Now civil wounds are stopp'd, peace lives again- That she may long live here, God say Amen! Exeunt THE END From forth the fatal loins of these two foes A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life; Whose misadventur'd piteous overthrows Doth with their death bury their parents' strife When I have fought with the men, I will be cruel with the maids- I will cut off their heads What, art thou drawn among these heartless hinds? Turn thee Benvolio! look upon thy death What, drawn, and talk of peace? I hate the word As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee 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 While we were interchanging thrusts and blows, Came more and more, and fought on part and part, Till the Prince came, who parted either part Both by myself and many other friend; But he, his own affections' counsellor, Is to himself- I will not say how true- But to himself so secret and so close, So far from sounding and discovery, As is the bud bit with an envious worm Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air Or dedicate his beauty to the sun These happy masks that kiss fair ladies' brows, Being black puts us in mind they hide the fair 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 Tut, man, one fire burns out another's burning; One pain is lessoned by another's anguish; Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning; One desperate grief cures with another's languish 'Signior Martino and his wife and daughters; County Anselmo and his beauteous sisters; The lady widow of Vitruvio; Signior Placentio and His lovely nieces; Mercutio and his brother Valentine; Mine uncle Capulet, his wife, and daughters; My fair niece Rosaline and Livia; Signior Valentio and His cousin Tybalt; Lucio and the lively Helena.' [Gives back the paper.] A fair assembly At this same ancient feast of Capulet's Sups the fair Rosaline whom thou so lov'st; With all the admired beauties of Verona 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 When the devout religion of mine eye Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires; And these, who, often drown'd, could never die, Transparent heretics, be burnt for liars! One fairer than my love? The all-seeing sun Ne'er saw her match since first the world begun 'Tis since the earthquake now eleven years; And she was wean'd (I never shall forget it), Of all the days of the year, upon that day; For I had then laid wormwood to my dug, Sitting in the sun under the dovehouse wall And since that time it is eleven years, For then she could stand high-lone; nay, by th' rood, She could have run and waddled all about; For even the day before, she broke her brow; And then my husband (God be with his soul! 'A was a merry man) took up the child The fish lives in the sea, and 'tis much pride For fair without the fair within to hide 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 You have dancing shoes With nimble soles; I have a soul of lead So stakes me to the ground I cannot move A visor for a visor! What care I What curious eye doth quote deformities? Here are the beetle brows shall blush for me 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 Tut! dun's the mouse, the constable's own word! If thou art Dun, we'll draw thee from the mire Of this sir-reverence love, wherein thou stick'st Up to the ears She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate stone On the forefinger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomies Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep; Her wagon spokes made of long spinners' legs, The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers; Her traces, of the smallest spider's web; Her collars, of the moonshine's wat'ry beams; Her whip, of cricket's bone; the lash, of film; Her wagoner, a small grey-coated gnat, Not half so big as a round little worm Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid; Her chariot is an empty hazelnut, Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub, Time out o' mind the fairies' coachmakers And in this state she 'gallops night by night Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love; O'er courtiers' knees, that dream on cursies straight; O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees; O'er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream, Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose, And then dreams he of smelling out a suit; And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig's tail Tickling a parson's nose as 'a lies asleep, Then dreams he of another benefice 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 True, I talk of dreams; Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy; Which is as thin of substance as the air, And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes Even now the frozen bosom of the North And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, Turning his face to the dew-dropping South 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 Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do! They pray; grant thou, lest faith turn to despair My only love, sprung from my only hate! Too early seen unknown, and known too late! Prodigious birth of love it is to me That I must love a loathed enemy 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 Now will he sit under a medlar tree And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit As maids call medlars when they laugh alone Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, Having some business, do entreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres till they return 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, be some other name! What's in a name? That which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet My ears have yet not drunk a hundred words Of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound 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 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 Or if thou thinkest I am too quickly won, I'll frown, and be perverse, and say thee nay, So thou wilt woo; but else, not for the world Therefore pardon me, And not impute this yielding to light love, Which the dark night hath so discovered 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 My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep; the more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite 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 Within the infant rind of this small flower Poison hath residence, and medicine power; For this, being smelt, with that part cheers each part; Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart Two such opposed kings encamp them still In man as well as herbs- grace and rude will; And where the worser is predominant, Full soon the canker death eats up that plant Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye, And where care lodges sleep will never lie; But where unbruised youth with unstuff'd brain Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign Holy Saint Francis! What a change is here! Is Rosaline, that thou didst love so dear, So soon forsaken? Young men's love then lies Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes 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 Laura, to his lady, was but a kitchen wench (marry, she had a better love to berhyme her), Dido a dowdy, Cleopatra a gypsy, Helen and Hero hildings and harlots, This be a gray eye or so, but not to the purpose Well said! Follow me this jest now till thou hast worn out thy pump, that, when the single sole of it is worn, the jest may remain, after the wearing, solely singular I stretch it out for that word 'broad,' which, added to the goose, proves thee far and wide a broad goose 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 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 Within this hour my man shall be with thee And bring thee cords made like a tackled stair, Which to the high topgallant of my joy Must be my convoy in the secret night I anger her sometimes, and tell her that Paris is the properer man; but I'll warrant you, when I say so, she looks as pale as any clout in the versal world Therefore do nimble-pinion'd doves draw Love, And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings How art thou out of breath when thou hast breath To say to me that thou art out of breath? The excuse that thou dost make in this delay Is longer than the tale thou dost excuse I am the drudge, and toil in your delight; But you shall bear the burthen soon at night These violent delights have violent ends And in their triumph die, like fire and powder, Which, as they kiss, consume The sweetest honey Is loathsome in his own deliciousness And in the taste confounds the appetite Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy Be heap'd like mine, and that thy skill be more To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath This neighbour air, and let rich music's tongue Unfold the imagin'd happiness that both Receive in either by this dear encounter And if we meet, we shall not scape a brawl, For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring Thou art like one of these fellows that, when he enters the confines of a tavern, claps me his sword upon the table and says 'God send me no need of thee!' and by the operation of the second cup draws him on the drawer, when indeed there is no need Nay, an there were two such, we should have none shortly, for one would kill the other Thou hast quarrell'd with a man for coughing in the street, because he hath wakened thy dog that hath lain asleep in the sun 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 Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries That thou hast done me; therefore turn and draw That I mean to make bold withal, and, as you shall use me hereafter, dry-beat the rest of the eight O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead! That gallant spirit hath aspir'd the clouds, Which too untimely here did scorn the earth This day's black fate on moe days doth depend; This but begins the woe others must end Enter Prince [attended], Old Montague, Capulet, their Wives, and [others] Not Romeo, Prince; he was Mercutio's friend; His fault concludes but what the law should end, The life of Tybalt I have an interest in your hate's proceeding, My blood for your rude brawls doth lie a-bleeding; But I'll amerce you with so strong a fine That you shall all repent the loss of mine 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 Hath Romeo slain himself? Say thou but 'I,' And that bare vowel 'I' shall poison more Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes, (God save the mark!) here on his manly breast Upon his brow shame is asham'd to sit; For 'tis a throne where honour may be crown'd Sole monarch of the universal earth Wash they his wounds with tears? Mine shall be spent, When theirs are dry, for Romeo's banishment Calling death 'banishment,' Thou cut'st my head off with a golden axe And smilest upon the stroke that murders me I'll give thee armour to keep off that word; Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy, To comfort thee, though thou art banished Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love, An hour but married, Tybalt murdered, Doting like me, and like me banished, Then mightst thou speak, then mightst thou tear thy hair, And fall upon the ground, as I do now, Taking the measure of an unmade grave Not I; unless the breath of heartsick groans, Mist-like infold me from the search of eyes 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 O, tell me, friar, tell me, In what vile part of this anatomy Doth my name lodge? Tell me, that I may sack The hateful mansion Art thou a man? Thy form cries out thou art; Thy tears are womanish, thy wild acts denote The unreasonable fury of a beast Hast thou slain Tybalt? Wilt thou slay thyself? And slay thy lady that in thy life lives, By doing damned hate upon thyself? Why railest thou on thy birth, the heaven, and earth? Since birth and heaven and earth, all three do meet In thee at once; which thou at once wouldst lose Commend me to thy lady, And bid her hasten all the house to bed, Which heavy sorrow makes them apt unto It was the nightingale, and not the lark, That pierc'd the fearful hollow of thine ear 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 I'll say yon grey is not the morning's eye, 'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow; Nor that is not the lark whose notes do beat The vaulty heaven so high above our heads Art thou gone so, my lord, my love, my friend? I must hear from thee every day in the hour, For in a minute there are many days O God, I have an ill-divining soul! Methinks I see thee, now thou art below, As one dead in the bottom of a tomb Is she not down so late, or up so early? What unaccustom'd cause procures her hither? Enter Mother Well, girl, thou weep'st not so much for his death As that the villain lives which slaughter'd him 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 Marry, my child, early next Thursday morn The gallant, young, and noble gentleman, The County Paris, at Saint Peter's Church, Shall happily make thee there a joyful bride I pray you tell my lord and father, madam, I will not marry yet; and when I do, I swear It shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate, Rather than Paris How, how, how, how, choplogic? What is this? 'Proud'- and 'I thank you'- and 'I thank you not'- And yet 'not proud'? Mistress minion you, Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds, But fettle your fine joints 'gainst Thursday next To go with Paris to Saint Peter's Church, Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither Hang thee, young baggage! disobedient wretch! I tell thee what- get thee to church a Thursday Or never after look me in the face An you be mine, I'll give you to my friend; An you be not, hang, beg, starve, die in the streets, For, by my soul, I'll ne'er acknowledge thee, Nor what is mine shall never do thee good Then, since the case so stands as now it doth, I think it best you married with the County [aside] I would I knew not why it should be slow'd.- Look, sir, here comes the lady toward my cell God join'd my heart and Romeo's, thou our hands; And ere this hand, by thee to Romeo's seal'd, Shall be the label to another deed, Or my true heart with treacherous revolt Turn to another, this shall slay them both 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 To-morrow night look that thou lie alone; Let not the nurse lie with thee in thy chamber 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 Now, when the bridegroom in the morning comes To rouse thee from thy bed, there art thou dead Then, as the manner of our country is, In thy best robes uncovered on the bier Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie In the mean time, against thou shalt awake, Shall Romeo by my letters know our drift; And hither shall he come; and he and I Will watch thy waking, and that very night Shall Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua And this shall free thee from this present shame, If no inconstant toy nor womanish fear Abate thy valour in the acting it I met the youthful lord at Laurence' cell And gave him what becomed love I might, Not stepping o'er the bounds of modesty Nurse, will you go with me into my closet To help me sort such needful ornaments As you think fit to furnish me to-morrow? Mother I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins That almost freezes up the heat of life Come, stir, stir, stir! The second cock hath crow'd, The curfew bell hath rung, 'tis three o'clock Lady! lady! lady! Alas, alas! Help, help! My lady's dead! O weraday that ever I was born! Some aqua-vitae, ho! My lord! my lady! Enter Mother Out alas! she's cold, Her blood is settled, and her joints are stiff; Life and these lips have long been separated Have I thought long to see this morning's face, And doth it give me such a sight as this? Mother 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 The heavens do low'r upon you for some ill; Move them no more by crossing their high will My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne, And all this day an unaccustom'd spirit Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts Let me have A dram of poison, such soon-speeding gear As will disperse itself through all the veins That the life-weary taker mall fall dead, And that the trunk may be discharg'd of breath As violently as hasty powder fir'd Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb 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 There is thy gold- worse poison to men's souls, Doing more murther in this loathsome world, Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell Going to find a barefoot brother out, One of our order, to associate me Here in this city visiting the sick, And finding him, the searchers of the town, Suspecting that we both were in a house Where the infectious pestilence did reign, Seal'd up the doors, and would not let us forth, So that my speed to Mantua there was stay'd I could not send it- here it is again- Nor get a messenger to bring it thee, So fearful were they of infection [aside] I am almost afraid to stand alone Here in the churchyard; yet I will adventure The time and my intents are savage-wild, More fierce and more inexorable far Than empty tigers or the roaring sea 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 This is that banish'd haughty Montague That murd'red my love's cousin- with which grief It is supposed the fair creature died- And here is come to do some villanous shame To the dead bodies Stop thy unhallowed toil, vile Montague! Can vengeance be pursu'd further than death? Condemned villain, I do apprehend thee O, be gone! By heaven, I love thee better than myself, For I come hither arm'd against myself Wilt thou provoke me? Then have at thee, boy! They fight Said he not so? or did I dream it so? Or am I mad, hearing him talk of Juliet To think it was so? O, give me thy hand, One writ with me in sour misfortune's book! I'll bury thee in a triumphant grave Beauty's ensign yet Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks, And death's pale flag is not advanced there 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 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] Here is a friar, and slaughter'd Romeo's man, With instruments upon them fit to open These dead men's tombs Romeo, there dead, was husband to that Juliet; And she, there dead, that Romeo's faithful wife Then comes she to me And with wild looks bid me devise some mean To rid her from this second marriage, Or in my cell there would she kill herself Then gave I her (so tutored by my art) A sleeping potion; which so took effect As I intended, for it wrought on her The form of death Meantime I writ to Romeo That he should hither come as this dire night To help to take her from her borrowed grave, Being the time the potion's force should cease But when I came, some minute ere the time Of her awaking, here untimely lay The noble Paris and true Romeo dead All this I know, and to the marriage Her nurse is privy; and if aught in this Miscarried by my fault, let my old life Be sacrific'd, some hour before his time, Unto the rigour of severest law 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 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 Saw'st thou not, boy, how Silver made it good At the hedge corner, in the coldest fault? I would not lose the dog for twenty pound Why, Belman is as good as he, my lord; He cried upon it at the merest loss, And twice to-day pick'd out the dullest scent; Trust me, I take him for the better dog This fellow I remember Since once he play'd a farmer's eldest son; 'Twas where you woo'd the gentlewoman so well Go, sirrah, take them to the buttery, And give them friendly welcome every one; Let them want nothing that my house affords See this dispatch'd with all the haste thou canst; Anon I'll give thee more instructions Exit a SERVINGMAN I know the boy will well usurp the grace, Voice, gait, and action, of a gentlewoman; I long to hear him call the drunkard 'husband'; And how my men will stay themselves from laughter When they do homage to this simple peasant I'll in to counsel them; haply my presence May well abate the over-merry spleen, Which otherwise would grow into extremes Ne'er ask me what raiment I'll wear, for I have no more doublets than backs, no more stockings than legs, nor no more shoes than feet- nay, sometime more feet than shoes, or such shoes as my toes look through the overleather O noble lord, bethink thee of thy birth! Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment, And banish hence these abject lowly dreams 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 Say thou wilt course; thy greyhounds are as swift As breathed stags; ay, fleeter than the roe Dost thou love pictures? We will fetch thee straight Adonis painted by a running brook, And Cytherea all in sedges hid, Which seem to move and wanton with her breath Even as the waving sedges play wi' th' wind We'll show thee lo as she was a maid And how she was beguiled and surpris'd, As lively painted as the deed was done 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 Thrice noble lord, let me entreat of you To pardon me yet for a night or two; Or, if not so, until the sun be set 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 Mi perdonato, gentle master mine; I am in all affected as yourself; Glad that you thus continue your resolve To suck the sweets of sweet philosophy Balk logic with acquaintance that you have, And practise rhetoric in your common talk; Music and poesy use to quicken you; The mathematics and the metaphysics, Fall to them as you find your stomach serves you 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 Gentlemen, that I may soon make good What I have said- Bianca, get you in; And let it not displease thee, good Bianca, For I will love thee ne'er the less, my girl Sir, to your pleasure humbly I subscribe; My books and instruments shall be my company, On them to look, and practise by myself Farewell; yet, for the love I bear my sweet Bianca, if I can by any means light on a fit man to teach her that wherein she delights, I will wish him to her father 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 [They exchange habits] In brief, sir, sith it your pleasure is, And I am tied to be obedient- For so your father charg'd me at our parting Sirrah, come hither; 'tis no time to jest, And therefore frame your manners to the time Well, was it fit for a servant to use his master so; being, perhaps, for aught I see, two and thirty, a pip out? Whom would to God I had well knock'd at first, Then had not Grumio come by the worst 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 Signior Hortensio, 'twixt such friends as we Few words suffice; and therefore, if thou know One rich enough to be Petruchio's wife, As wealth is burden of my wooing dance, Be she as foul as was Florentius' love, As old as Sibyl, and as curst and shrewd As Socrates' Xanthippe or a worse- She moves me not, or not removes, at least, Affection's edge in me, were she as rough As are the swelling Adriatic seas Tell me her father's name, and 'tis enough; For I will board her though she chide as loud As thunder when the clouds in autumn crack I will not sleep, Hortensio, till I see her; And therefore let me be thus bold with you To give you over at this first encounter, Unless you will accompany me thither He hath the jewel of my life in hold, His youngest daughter, beautiful Bianca; And her withholds from me, and other more, Suitors to her and rivals in my love; Supposing it a thing impossible- For those defects I have before rehears'd- That ever Katherina will be woo'd Therefore this order hath Baptista ta'en, That none shall have access unto Bianca Till Katherine the curst have got a husband 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 Take your paper too, And let me have them very well perfum'd; For she is sweeter than perfume itself To whom they go to 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 The youngest daughter, whom you hearken for, Her father keeps from all access of suitors, And will not promise her to any man Until the elder sister first be wed Believe me, sister, of all the men alive I never yet beheld that special face Which I could fancy more than any other For shame, thou hilding of a devilish spirit, Why dost thou wrong her that did ne'er wrong thee? When did she cross thee with a bitter word? KATHERINA Y'are welcome, sir, and he for your good sake; But for my daughter Katherine, this I know, She is not for your turn, the more my grief 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 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 Holla, within! Enter a SERVANT Sirrah, lead these gentlemen To my daughters; and tell them both These are their tutors 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 You knew my father well, and in him me, Left solely heir to all his lands and goods, Which I have bettered rather than decreas'd Let specialities be therefore drawn between us, That covenants may be kept on either hand Why, that is nothing; for I tell you, father, I am as peremptory as she proud-minded; And where two raging fires meet together, They do consume the thing that feeds their fury Ay, to the proof, as mountains are for winds, That shake not though they blow perpetually 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 You lie, in faith, for you are call'd plain Kate, And bonny Kate, and sometimes Kate the curst; But, Kate, the prettiest Kate in Christendom, Kate of Kate Hall, my super-dainty Kate, For dainties are all Kates, and therefore, Kate, Take this of me, Kate of my consolation- Hearing thy mildness prais'd in every town, Thy virtues spoke of, and thy beauty sounded, Yet not so deeply as to thee belongs, Myself am mov'd to woo thee for my wife Alas, good Kate, I will not burden thee! For, knowing thee to be but young and light- KATHERINA 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 Did ever Dian so become a grove As Kate this chamber with her princely gait? O, be thou Dian, and let her be Kate; And then let Kate be chaste, and Dian sportful! KATHERINA Now, Kate, I am a husband for your turn; For, by this light, whereby I see thy beauty, Thy beauty that doth make me like thee well, Thou must be married to no man but me; For I am he am born to tame you, Kate, And bring you from a wild Kate to a Kate Conformable as other household Kates Call you me daughter? Now I promise you You have show'd a tender fatherly regard To wish me wed to one half lunatic, A mad-cap ruffian and a swearing Jack, That thinks with oaths to face the matter out O, you are novices! 'Tis a world to see, How tame, when men and women are alone, A meacock wretch can make the curstest shrew Provide the feast, father, and bid the guests; I will be sure my Katherine shall be fine 'Hic ibat' as I told you before- 'Simois' I am Lucentio- 'hic est' son unto Vincentio of Pisa- 'Sigeia tellus' disguised thus to get your love- 'Hic steterat' and that Lucentio that comes a-wooing- 'Priami' is my man Tranio- 'regia' bearing my port- 'celsa senis' that we might beguile the old pantaloon [Aside] How fiery and forward our pedant is! Now, for my life, the knave doth court my love 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 Yet if thy thoughts, Bianca, be so humble To cast thy wand'ring eyes on every stale- Seize thee that list What will be said? What mockery will it be To want the bridegroom when the priest attends To speak the ceremonial rites of marriage! What says Lucentio to this shame of ours? KATHERINA But where is Kate? I stay too long from her; The morning wears, 'tis time we were at church See not your bride in these unreverent robes; Go to my chamber, put on clothes of mine Good sooth, even thus; therefore ha' done with words; To me she's married, not unto my clothes Were it not that my fellow schoolmaster Doth watch Bianca's steps so narrowly, 'Twere good, methinks, to steal our marriage; Which once perform'd, let all the world say no, I'll keep mine own despite of all the world A bridegroom, say you? 'Tis a groom indeed, A grumbling groom, and that the girl shall find This done, he took the bride about the neck, And kiss'd her lips with such a clamorous smack That at the parting all the church did echo 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 'Tis like you'll prove a jolly surly groom That take it on you at the first so roundly Fear not, sweet wench; they shall not touch thee, Kate; I'll buckler thee against a million Neighbours and friends, though bride and bridegroom wants For to supply the places at the table, You know there wants no junkets at the feast Fie, fie on all tired jades, on all mad masters, and all foul ways! Was ever man so beaten? Was ever man so ray'd? Was ever man so weary? I am sent before to make a fire, and they are coming after to warm them But I with blowing the fire shall warm myself; for, considering the weather, a taller man than I will take cold 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 Nathaniel's coat, sir, was not fully made, And Gabriel's pumps were all unpink'd i' th' heel; There was no link to colour Peter's hat, And Walter's dagger was not come from sheathing; There were none fine but Adam, Ralph, and Gregory; The rest were ragged, old, and beggarly; Yet, as they are, here are they come to meet you 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 And till she stoop she must not be full-gorg'd, For then she never looks upon her lure 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 Quick proceeders, marry! Now tell me, I pray, You that durst swear that your Mistress Blanca Lov'd none in the world so well as Lucentio O master, master, have watch'd so long That I am dog-weary; but at last I spied An ancient angel coming down the hill Will serve the turn Master, a mercatante or a pedant, I know not what; but formal in apparel, In gait and countenance surely like a father If he be credulous and trust my tale, I'll make him glad to seem Vincentio, And give assurance to Baptista Minola As if he were the right Vincentio Alas, sir, it is worse for me than so! For I have bills for money by exchange From Florence, and must here deliver them Go, get thee gone, thou false deluding slave, [Beats him] That feed'st me with the very name of meat Sorrow on thee and all the pack of you That triumph thus upon my misery! Go, get thee gone, I say The poorest service is repaid with thanks; And so shall mine, before you touch the meat My tongue will tell the anger of my heart, Or else my heart, concealing it, will break; And rather than it shall, I will be free Even to the uttermost, as I please, in words Why, thou say'st true; it is a paltry cap, A custard-coffin, a bauble, a silken pie; I love thee well in that thou lik'st it not O monstrous arrogance! Thou liest, thou thread, thou thimble, Thou yard, three-quarters, half-yard, quarter, nail, Thou flea, thou nit, thou winter-cricket thou- Brav'd in mine own house with a skein of thread! Away, thou rag, thou quantity, thou remnant; Or I shall so bemete thee with thy yard As thou shalt think on prating whilst thou liv'st! I tell thee, I, that thou hast marr'd her gown I say unto thee, I bid thy master cut out the gown; but I did not bid him cut it to pieces Error i' th' bill, sir; error i' th' bill! I commanded the sleeves should be cut out, and sew'd up again; and that I'll prove upon thee, though thy little finger be armed in a thimble Well, come, my Kate; we will unto your father's Even in these honest mean habiliments; Our purses shall be proud, our garments poor; For 'tis the mind that makes the body rich; And as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds, So honour peereth in the meanest habit 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 Ay, what else? And, but I be deceived, Signior Baptista may remember me Near twenty years ago in Genoa, Where we were lodgers at the Pegasus There doth my father lie; and there this night We'll pass the business privately and well Send for your daughter by your servant here; My boy shall fetch the scrivener presently Faith, nothing; but has left me here behind to expound the meaning or moral of his signs and tokens Now by my mother's son, and that's myself, It shall be moon, or star, or what I list, Or ere I journey to your father's house 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 Enter VINCENTIO [To VINCENTIO] Good-morrow, gentle mistress; where away?- Tell me, sweet Kate, and tell me truly too, Hast thou beheld a fresher gentlewoman? Such war of white and red within her cheeks! What stars do spangle heaven with such beauty As those two eyes become that heavenly face? Fair lovely maid, once more good day to thee Young budding virgin, fair and fresh and sweet, Whither away, or where is thy abode? Happy the parents of so fair a child; Happier the man whom favourable stars Allots thee for his lovely bed-fellow Pardon, old father, my mistaking eyes, That have been so bedazzled with the sun That everything I look on seemeth green; Now I perceive thou art a reverend father Wonder not, Nor be not grieved- she is of good esteem, Her dowry wealthy, and of worthy birth; Beside, so qualified as may beseem The spouse of any noble gentleman Come, go along, and see the truth hereof; For our first merriment hath made thee jealous Have to my widow; and if she be froward, Then hast thou taught Hortensio to be untoward 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 Do you hear, sir? To leave frivolous circumstances, I pray you tell Signior Lucentio that his father is come from Pisa, and is here at the door to speak with him [To VINCENTIO] Why, how now, gentleman! Why, this is flat knavery to take upon you another man's name What, my old worshipful old master? Yes, marry, sir; see where he looks out of the window Away, away, mad ass! His name is Lucentio; and he is mine only son, and heir to the lands of me, Signior Vicentio Lucentio! O, he hath murd'red his master! Lay hold on him, I charge you, in the Duke's name Take heed, Signior Baptista, lest you be cony-catch'd in this business; I dare swear this is the right Vincentio Bianca's love Made me exchange my state with Tranio, While he did bear my countenance in the town; And happily I have arrived at the last Unto the wished haven of my bliss My cake is dough, but I'll in among the rest; Out of hope of all but my share of the feast LUCENTIO'S house Enter BAPTISTA, VINCENTIO, GREMIO, the PEDANT, LUCENTIO, BIANCA, PETRUCHIO, KATHERINA, HORTENSIO, and WIDOW Brother Petruchio, sister Katherina, And thou, Hortensio, with thy loving widow, Feast with the best, and welcome to my house Here, Signior Tranio, This bird you aim'd at, though you hit her not; Therefore a health to all that shot and miss'd Well, I say no; and therefore, for assurance, Let's each one send unto his wife, And he whose wife is most obedient, To come at first when he doth send for her, Shall win the wager which we will propose Katherine, I charge thee, tell these headstrong women What duty they do owe their lords and husbands 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 DRAMATIS PERSONAE ALONSO, King of Naples SEBASTIAN, his brother PROSPERO, the right Duke of Milan ANTONIO, his brother, the usurping Duke of Milan FERDINAND, son to the King of Naples GONZALO, an honest old counsellor Lords ADRIAN FRANCISCO CALIBAN, a savage and deformed slave TRINCULO, a jester STEPHANO, a drunken butler MASTER OF A SHIP BOATSWAIN MARINERS MIRANDA, daughter to Prospero ARIEL, an airy spirit Spirits IRIS CERES JUNO NYMPHS REAPERS Other Spirits attending on Prospero [A cry within] A plague upon this howling! They are louder than the weather or our office If by your art, my dearest father, you have Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch, But that the sea, mounting to th' welkin's cheek, Dashes the fire out O, I have suffered With those that I saw suffer! A brave vessel, Who had no doubt some noble creature in her, Dash'd all to pieces! O, the cry did knock Against my very heart! Poor souls, they perish'd Had I been any god of power, I would Have sunk the sea within the earth or ere It should the good ship so have swallow'd and The fraughting souls within her 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 This King of Naples, being an enemy To me inveterate, hearkens my brother's suit; Which was, that he, in lieu o' th' premises, Of homage, and I know not how much tribute, Should presently extirpate me and mine Out of the dukedom, and confer fair Milan With all the honours on my brother Dear, they durst not, So dear the love my people bore me; nor set A mark so bloody on the business; but With colours fairer painted their foul ends All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I come To answer thy best pleasure; be't to fly, To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride On the curl'd clouds Not a hair perish'd; On their sustaining garments not a blemish, But fresher than before; and, as thou bad'st me, In troops I have dispers'd them 'bout the isle This damn'd witch Sycorax, For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries terrible To enter human hearing, from Argier Thou know'st was banish'd; for one thing she did They would not take her life 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 Thou most lying slave, Whom stripes may move, not kindness! I have us'd thee, Filth as thou art, with human care, and lodg'd thee In mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violate The honour of my child Abhorred slave, Which any print of goodness wilt not take, Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee, Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour One thing or other When thou didst not, savage, Know thine own meaning, but wouldst gabble like A thing most brutish, I endow'd thy purposes With words that made them known 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 Sitting on a bank, Weeping again the King my father's wreck, This music crept by me upon the waters, Allaying both their fury and my passion With its sweet air; thence I have follow'd it, Or it hath drawn me rather Myself am Naples, Who with mine eyes, never since at ebb, beheld The King my father wreck'd O, if a virgin, And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you The Queen of Naples [Aside] They are both in either's pow'rs; but this swift busines I must uneasy make, lest too light winning Make the prize light [To FERDINAND] One word more; I charge thee That thou attend me; thou dost here usurp The name thou ow'st not; and hast put thyself Upon this island as a spy, to win it From me, the lord on't Sea-water shalt thou drink; thy food shall be The fresh-brook mussels, wither'd roots, and husks Wherein the acorn cradled Methinks our garments are now as fresh as when we put them on first in Afric, at the marriage of the King's fair daughter Claribel to the King of Tunis Sir, you may thank yourself for this great loss, That would not bless our Europe with your daughter, But rather lose her to an African; Where she, at least, is banish'd from your eye, Who hath cause to wet the grief on't Milan and Naples have Moe widows in them of this business' making, Than we bring men to comfort them; The fault's your own My lord Sebastian, The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness, And time to speak it in; you rub the sore, When you should bring the plaster What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts; I find They are inclin'd to do so I am more serious than my custom; you Must be so too, if heed me; which to do Trebles thee o'er O, If you but knew how you the purpose cherish, Whiles thus you mock it! how, in stripping it, You more invest it! Ebbing men indeed, Most often, do so near the bottom run By their own fear or sloth The setting of thine eye and cheek proclaim A matter from thee; and a birth, indeed, Which throes thee much to yield O, out of that 'no hope' What great hope have you! No hope that way is Another way so high a hope, that even Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond, But doubt discovery there What stuff is this! How say you? 'Tis true, my brother's daughter's Queen of Tunis; So is she heir of Naples; 'twixt which regions There is some space A space whose ev'ry cubit Seems to cry out 'How shall that Claribel Measure us back to Naples? Keep in Tunis, And let Sebastian wake.' Say this were death That now hath seiz'd them; why, they were no worse Than now they are For all the rest, They'll take suggestion as a cat laps milk; They'll tell the clock to any business that We say befits the hour One stroke Shall free thee from the tribute which thou payest; And I the King shall love thee My master through his art foresees the danger That you, his friend, are in; and sends me forth- For else his project dies-to keep them living he smells like a fish; a very ancient and fish-like smell; kind of not-of-the-newest Poor-John [Thunder] Alas, the storm is come again! My best way is to creep under his gaberdine; there is no other shelter hereabout If I can recover him, and keep him tame, and get to Naples with him, he's a present for any emperor that ever trod on neat's leather Thou dost me yet but little hurt; thou wilt anon, I know it by thy trembling; now Prosper works upon thee If thou beest Trinculo, come forth; I'll pull the by the lesser legs; if any be Trinculo's legs, these are they Is the storm overblown? I hid me under the dead moon-calf's gaberdine for fear of the storm I'll show thee the best springs; I'll pluck thee berries; I'll fish for thee, and get thee wood enough I prithee let me bring thee where crabs grow; And I with my long nails will dig thee pig-nuts; Show thee a jay's nest, and instruct thee how To snare the nimble marmoset; I'll bring thee To clust'ring filberts, and sometimes I'll get thee Young scamels from the rock My father Is hard at study; pray, now, rest yourself; He's safe for these three hours If you'll sit down, I'll bear your logs the while; pray give me that; I'll carry it to the pile 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 I am, in my condition, A prince, Miranda; I do think, a king- I would not so!-and would no more endure This wooden slavery than to suffer The flesh-fly blow my mouth But this is trifling; And all the more it seeks to hide itself, The bigger bulk it shows To be your fellow You may deny me; but I'll be your servant, Whether you will or no Where should they be set else? He were a brave monster indeed, if they were set in his tail When that's gone He shall drink nought but brine; for I'll not show him Where the quick freshes are 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 [Aside to SEBASTIAN] Let it be to-night; For, now they are oppress'd with travel, they Will not, nor cannot, use such vigilance As when they are fresh Now I will believe That there are unicorns; that in Arabia There is one tree, the phoenix' throne, one phoenix At this hour reigning-there I will stand to, and feed, Although my last; no matter, since I feel The best is past I have made you mad; And even with such-like valour men hang and drown Their proper selves Of my instruction hast thou nothing bated In what thou hadst to say; so, with good life And observation strange, my meaner ministers Their several kinds have done O, it is monstrous, monstrous! Methought the billows spoke, and told me of it; The winds did sing it to me; and the thunder, That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounc'd The name of Prosper; it did bass my trespass 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 All three of them are desperate; their great guilt, Like poison given to work a great time after, Now gins to bite the spirits I do beseech you, That are of suppler joints, follow them swiftly, And hinder them from what this ecstasy May now provoke them to Thou and thy meaner fellows your last service Did worthily perform; and I must use you In such another trick 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 I warrant you, sir, The white cold virgin snow upon my heart Abates the ardour of my liver Well! Now come, my Ariel, bring a corollary, Rather than want a spirit; appear, and pertly A contract of true love to celebrate, And some donation freely to estate On the blest lovers How does my bounteous sister? Go with me To bless this twain, that they may prosperous be, And honour'd in their issue When I presented 'Ceres.' I thought to have told thee of it; but I fear'd Lest I might anger thee I told you, sir, they were red-hot with drinking; So full of valour that they smote the air For breathing in their faces; beat the ground For kissing of their feet; yet always bending Towards their project Then I beat my tabor, At which like unback'd colts they prick'd their ears, Advanc'd their eyelids, lifted up their noses As they smelt music; so I charm'd their cars, That calf-like they my lowing follow'd through Tooth'd briers, sharp furzes, pricking goss, and thorns, Which ent'red their frail shins At last I left them I' th' filthy mantled pool beyond your cell, There dancing up to th' chins, that the foul lake O'erstunk their feet Monster, your fairy, which you say is a harmless fairy, has done little better than play'd the Jack with us Be patient, for the prize I'll bring thee to Shall hoodwink this mischance; therefore speak softly The dropsy drown this fool! What do you mean To dote thus on such luggage? Let 't alone, And do the murder first Confin'd together In the same fashion as you gave in charge; Just as you left them; all prisoners, sir, In the line-grove which weather-fends your cell; They cannot budge till your release Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling Of their afflictions, and shall not myself, One of their kind, that relish all as sharply, Passion as they, be kindlier mov'd than thou art? Though with their high wrongs I am struck to th' quick, Yet with my nobler reason 'gainst my fury Do I take part; the rarer action is In virtue than in vengeance; they being penitent, The sole drift of my purpose doth extend Not a frown further 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 The charm dissolves apace, And as the morning steals upon the night, Melting the darkness, so their rising senses Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle Their clearer reason Most cruelly Didst thou, Alonso, use me and my daughter; Thy brother was a furtherer in the act ARIEL, on returning, sings and helps to attire him Where the bee sucks, there suck I; In a cowslip's bell I lie; There I couch when owls do cry 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 I perceive these lords At this encounter do so much admire That they devour their reason, and scarce think Their eyes do offices of truth, their words Are natural breath; but, howsoe'er you have Been justled from your senses, know for certain That I am Prospero, and that very duke Which was thrust forth of Milan; who most strangely Upon this shore, where you were wrecked, was landed To be the lord on't Look down, you gods, And on this couple drop a blessed crown; For it is you that have chalk'd forth the way Which brought us hither On a trice, so please you, Even in a dream, were we divided from them, And were brought moping hither [Aside to ARIEL] Come hither, spirit; Set Caliban and his companions free; Untie the spell 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 But what particular rarity? What strange, Which manifold record not matches? See, Magic of bounty, all these spirits thy power Hath conjur'd to attend! I know the merchant When we for recompense have prais'd the vile, It stains the glory in that happy verse Which aptly sings the good You see how all conditions, how all minds- As well of glib and slipp'ry creatures as Of grave and austere quality, tender down Their services to Lord Timon The base o' th' mount Is rank'd with all deserts, all kind of natures That labour on the bosom of this sphere To propagate their states All those which were his fellows but of late- Some better than his value- on the moment Follow his strides, his lobbies fill with tendance, Rain sacrificial whisperings in his ear, Make sacred even his stirrup, and through him Drink the free air Yet you do well To show Lord Timon that mean eyes have seen The foot above the head All happiness to your honour! Exit Enter an OLD ATHENIAN OLD ATHENIAN The maid is fair, o' th' youngest for a bride, And I have bred her at my dearest cost In qualities of the best The painting is almost the natural man; For since dishonour traffics with man's nature, He is but outside; these pencill'd figures are Even such as they give out I like your work, And you shall find I like it; wait attendance Till you hear further from me My lord, 'tis rated As those which sell would give; but you well know Things of like value, differing in the owners, Are prized by their masters Till I be gentle, stay thou for thy good morrow; When thou art Timon's dog, and these knaves honest Come, shall we in And taste Lord Timon's bounty? He outgoes The very heart of kindness A great banquet serv'd in; FLAVIUS and others attending; and then enter LORD TIMON, the states, the ATHENIAN LORDS, VENTIDIUS, which TIMON redeem'd from prison Nay, my lords, ceremony was but devis'd at first To set a gloss on faint deeds, hollow welcomes, Recanting goodness, sorry ere 'tis shown; But where there is true friendship there needs none 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 There's much example for't; the fellow that sits next him now, parts bread with him, pledges the breath of him in a divided draught, is the readiest man to kill him This and my food are equals; there's no odds.' Feasts are too proud to give thanks to the gods Would all those flatterers were thine enemies then, that then thou mightst kill 'em, and bid me to 'em O you gods, think I, what need we have any friends if we should ne'er have need of 'em? They were the most needless creatures living, should we ne'er have use for 'em; and would most resemble sweet instruments hung up in cases, that keep their sounds to themselves There comes with them a forerunner, my lord, which bears that office to signify their pleasures Th' Ear, Taste, Touch, Smell, pleas'd from thy table rise; They only now come but to feast thine eyes [Aside] More jewels yet! There is no crossing him in's humour, Else I should tell him- well i' faith, I should- When all's spent, he'd be cross'd then, an he could No, I'll nothing; for if I should be brib'd too, there would be none left to rail upon thee, and then thou wouldst sin the faster 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 If you suspect my husbandry or falsehood, Call me before th' exactest auditors And set me on the proof 'Heavens,' have I said 'the bounty of this lord! How many prodigal bits have slaves and peasants This night englutted! Who is not Lord Timon's? What heart, head, sword, force, means, but is Lord Timon's? Great Timon, noble, worthy, royal Timon!' Ah! when the means are gone that buy this praise, The breath is gone whereof this praise is made If I would broach the vessels of my love, And try the argument of hearts by borrowing, Men and men's fortunes could I frankly use As I can bid thee speak They answer, in a joint and corporate voice, That now they are at fall, want treasure, cannot Do what they would, are sorry- you are honourable- But yet they could have wish'd- they know not- Something hath been amiss- a noble nature May catch a wrench- would all were well!- 'tis pity- And so, intending other serious matters, After distasteful looks, and these hard fractions, With certain half-caps and cold-moving nods, They froze me into silence 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 Prithee be not sad, Thou art true and honest; ingeniously I speak, No blame belongs to thee Faith, nothing but an empty box, sir, which in my lord's behalf I come to entreat your honour to supply; who, having great and instant occasion to use fifty talents, hath sent to your lordship to furnish him, nothing doubting your present assistance therein I have observed thee always for a towardly prompt spirit, give thee thy due, and one that knows what belongs to reason, and canst use the time well, if the time use thee well Is't possible the world should so much differ, And we alive that liv'd? Fly, damned baseness, To him that worships thee 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 My lord, They have all been touch'd and found base metal, for They have all denied him Now his friends are dead, Doors that were ne'er acquainted with their wards Many a bounteous year must be employ'd Now to guard sure their master Ay, but the days are wax'd shorter with him; You must consider that a prodigal course Is like the sun's, but not like his recoverable 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 To be in anger is impiety; But who is man that is not angry? Weigh but the crime with this All those for this? Is this the balsam that the usuring Senate Pours into captains' wounds? Banishment! It comes not ill; I hate not to be banish'd; It is a cause worthy my spleen and fury, That I may strike at Athens 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 Make not a city feast of it, to let the meat cool ere we can agree upon the first place 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 For these my present friends, as they are to me nothing, so in nothing bless them, and to nothing are they welcome 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 Plagues incident to men, Your potent and infectious fevers heap On Athens, ripe for stroke Thou cold sciatica, Cripple our senators, that their limbs may halt As lamely as their manners 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 Leak'd is our bark; And we, poor mates, stand on the dying deck, Hearing the surges threat O blessed breeding sun, draw from the earth Rotten humidity; below thy sister's orb Infect the air! Twinn'd brothers of one womb- Whose procreation, residence, and birth, Scarce is dividant- touch them with several fortunes Ha, you gods! why this? What, this, you gods? Why, this Will lug your priests and servants from your sides, Pluck stout men's pillows from below their heads- This yellow slave Will knit and break religions, bless th' accurs'd, Make the hoar leprosy ador'd, place thieves And give them title, knee, and approbation, With senators on the bench Season the slaves For tubs and baths; bring down rose-cheek'd youth To the tub-fast and the diet Be as a planetary plague, when Jove Will o'er some high-vic'd city hang his poison In the sick air; let not thy sword skip one Let not the virgin's cheek Make soft thy trenchant sword; for those milk paps That through the window bars bore at men's eyes Are not within the leaf of pity writ, But set them down horrible traitors Down with the nose, Down with it flat, take the bridge quite away Of him that, his particular to foresee, Smells from the general weal What, think'st That the bleak air, thy boisterous chamberlain, Will put thy shirt on warm? Will these moist trees, That have outliv'd the eagle, page thy heels And skip when thou point'st out? Will the cold brook, Candied with ice, caudle thy morning taste To cure thy o'ernight's surfeit? Call the creatures Whose naked natures live in all the spite Of wreakful heaven, whose bare unhoused trunks, To the conflicting elements expos'd, Answer mere nature- bid them flatter thee Best state, contentless, Hath a distracted and most wretched being, Worse than the worst, content Hadst thou, like us from our first swath, proceeded The sweet degrees that this brief world affords To such as may the passive drugs of it Freely command, thou wouldst have plung'd thyself In general riot, melted down thy youth In different beds of lust, and never learn'd The icy precepts of respect, but followed The sug'red game before thee When thou wast in thy gilt and thy perfume, they mock'd thee for too much curiosity; in thy rags thou know'st none, but art despis'd for the contrary If thou wert the ass, thy dulness would torment thee; and still thou liv'dst but as a breakfast to the wolf Wert thou bear, thou wouldst be kill'd by the horse; wert thou a horse, thou wouldst be seiz'd by the leopard; wert thou a leopard, thou wert german to the lion, and the spots of thy kindred were jurors on thy life Away, thou issue of a mangy dog! Choler does kill me that thou art alive; I swoon to see thee Rogue, rogue, rogue! I am sick of this false world, and will love nought But even the mere necessities upon't Then, Timon, presently prepare thy grave; Lie where the light foam of the sea may beat Thy gravestone daily; make thine epitaph, That death in me at others' lives may laugh Why dost ask that? I have forgot all men; Then, if thou grant'st th'art a man, I have forgot thee Methinks thou art more honest now than wise; For by oppressing and betraying me Thou mightst have sooner got another service; For many so arrive at second masters Upon their first lord's neck Go, live rich and happy, But thus condition'd; thou shalt build from men; Hate all, curse all, show charity to none, But let the famish'd flesh slide from the bone Ere thou relieve the beggar Give to dogs What thou deniest to men; let prisons swallow 'em, Debts wither 'em to nothing Performance is ever the duller for his act, and but in the plainer and simpler kind of people the deed of saying is quite out of use [Aside] Must thou needs stand for a villain in thine own work? Wilt thou whip thine own faults in other men? Do so, I have gold for thee To thee be worship! and thy saints for aye Be crown'd with plagues, that thee alone obey! Fit I meet them Look you, I love you well; I'll give you gold, Rid me these villains from your companies [To the POET] If thou wouldst not reside But where one villain is, then him abandon.- Hence, pack! there's gold; you came for gold, ye slaves Time, with his fairer hand, Offering the fortunes of his former days, The former man may make him They confess Toward thee forgetfulness too general, gross; Which now the public body, which doth seldom Play the recanter, feeling in itself A lack of Timon's aid, hath sense withal Of it own fail, restraining aid to Timon, And send forth us to make their sorrowed render, Together with a recompense more fruitful Than their offence can weigh down by the dram; Ay, even such heaps and sums of love and wealth As shall to thee blot out what wrongs were theirs And write in thee the figures of their love, Ever to read them thine Lend me a fool's heart and a woman's eyes, And I'll beweep these comforts, worthy senators For myself, There's not a whittle in th' unruly camp But I do prize it at my love before The reverend'st throat in Athens Commend me to them, And tell them that, to ease them of their griefs, Their fears of hostile strokes, their aches, losses, Their pangs of love, with other incident throes That nature's fragile vessel doth sustain In life's uncertain voyage, I will some kindness do them- I'll teach them to prevent wild Alcibiades' wrath Come not to me again; but say to Athens Timon hath made his everlasting mansion Upon the beached verge of the salt flood, Who once a day with his embossed froth The turbulent surge shall cover Our captain hath in every figure skill, An ag'd interpreter, though young in days; Before proud Athens he's set down by this, Whose fall the mark of his ambition is Noble and young, When thy first griefs were but a mere conceit, Ere thou hadst power or we had cause of fear, We sent to thee, to give thy rages balm, To wipe out our ingratitude with loves Above their quantity These walls of ours Were not erected by their hands from whom You have receiv'd your griefs; nor are they such That these great tow'rs, trophies, and schools, should fall For private faults in them Nor are they living Who were the motives that you first went out; Shame, that they wanted cunning, in excess Hath broke their hearts By decimation and a tithed death- If thy revenges hunger for that food Which nature loathes- take thou the destin'd tenth, And by the hazard of the spotted die Let die the spotted Like a shepherd Approach the fold and cull th' infected forth, But kill not all together Pass by, and curse thy fill; but pass, and stay not here thy gait.' These well express in thee thy latter spirits Bring me into your city, And I will use the olive, with my sword; Make war breed peace, make peace stint war, make each Prescribe to other, as each other's leech 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 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 Thou great defender of this Capitol, Stand gracious to the rites that we intend! Romans, of five and twenty valiant sons, Half of the number that King Priam had, Behold the poor remains, alive and dead! These that survive let Rome reward with love; These that I bring unto their latest home, With burial amongst their ancestors Titus, unkind, and careless of thine own, Why suffer'st thou thy sons, unburied yet, To hover on the dreadful shore of Styx? Make way to lay them by their brethren Stay, Roman brethen! Gracious conqueror, Victorious Titus, rue the tears I shed, A mother's tears in passion for her son; And if thy sons were ever dear to thee, O, think my son to be as dear to me! Sufficeth not that we are brought to Rome To beautify thy triumphs, and return Captive to thee and to thy Roman yoke; But must my sons be slaughtered in the streets For valiant doings in their country's cause? O, if to fight for king and commonweal Were piety in thine, it is in these These are their brethren, whom your Goths beheld Alive and dead; and for their brethren slain Religiously they ask a sacrifice To this your son is mark'd, and die he must T' appease their groaning shadows that are gone Away with him, and make a fire straight; And with our swords, upon a pile of wood, Let's hew his limbs till they be clean consum'd Then, madam, stand resolv'd, but hope withal The self-same gods that arm'd the Queen of Troy With opportunity of sharp revenge Upon the Thracian tyrant in his tent May favour Tamora, the Queen of Goths- When Goths were Goths and Tamora was queen- To quit the bloody wrongs upon her foes Alarbus' limbs are lopp'd, And entrails feed the sacrificing fire, Whose smoke like incense doth perfume the sky Remaineth nought but to inter our brethren, And with loud 'larums welcome them to Rome Titus Andronicus, the people of Rome, Whose friend in justice thou hast ever been, Send thee by me, their Tribune and their trust, This par]iament of white and spotless hue; And name thee in election for the empire With these our late-deceased Emperor's sons 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 To gratify the good Andronicus, And gratulate his safe return to Rome, The people will accept whom he admits 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 Re-enter aloft the EMPEROR with TAMORA and her two Sons, and AARON the Moor Traitor, restore Lavinia to the Emperor 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 A valiant son-in-law thou shalt enjoy; One fit to bandy with thy lawless sons, To ruffle in the commonwealth of Rome 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 And here in sight of heaven to Rome I swear, If Saturnine advance the Queen of Goths, She will a handmaid be to his desires, A loving nurse, a mother to his youth Lords, accompany Your noble Emperor and his lovely bride, Sent by the heavens for Prince Saturnine, Whose wisdom hath her fortune conquered; There shall we consummate our spousal rites Marcus, even thou hast struck upon my crest, And with these boys mine honour thou hast wounded 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 Receive him then to favour, Saturnine, That hath express'd himself in all his deeds A father and a friend to thee and Rome 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 thank your Majesty and her, my lord; These words, these looks, infuse new life in me Titus, I am incorporate in Rome, A Roman now adopted happily, And must advise the Emperor for his good 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 Lavinia, though you left me like a churl, I found a friend; and sure as death I swore I would not part a bachelor from the priest Hast prisoner held, fett'red in amorous chains, And faster bound to Aaron's charming eyes Than is Prometheus tied to Caucasus 'Tis not the difference of a year or two Makes me less gracious or thee more fortunate [Coming forward] Why, how now, lords! So near the Emperor's palace dare ye draw And maintain such a quarrel openly? Full well I wot the ground of all this grudge I would not for a million of gold The cause were known to them it most concerns; Nor would your noble mother for much more Be so dishonoured in the court of Rome Why, lords, and think you not how dangerous It is to jet upon a prince's right? What, is Lavinia then become so loose, Or Bassianus so degenerate, That for her love such quarrels may be broach'd Without controlment, justice, or revenge? Young lords, beware; an should the Empress know This discord's ground, the music would not please Why mak'st thou it so strange? She is a woman, therefore may be woo'd; She is a woman, therefore may be won; She is Lavinia, therefore must be lov'd A speedier course than ling'ring languishment Must we pursue, and I have found the path 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 The hunt is up, the morn is bright and grey, The fields are fragrant, and the woods are green Uncouple here, and let us make a bay, And wake the Emperor and his lovely bride, And rouse the Prince, and ring a hunter's peal, That all the court may echo with the noise I 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 And so repose, sweet gold, for their unrest [Hides the gold] That have their alms out of the Empress' chest What signifies my deadly-standing eye, My silence and my cloudy melancholy, My fleece of woolly hair that now uncurls Even as an adder when she doth unroll To do some fatal execution? No, madam, these are no venereal signs 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 Here comes a parcel of our hopeful booty, Which dreads not yet their lives' destruction Be cross with him; and I'll go fetch thy sons To back thy quarrels, whatsoe'er they be Jove shield your husband from his hounds to-day! 'Tis pity they should take him for a stag I pray you let us hence, And let her joy her raven-coloured love; This valley fits the purpose passing well Have I not reason, think you, to look pale? These two have 'ticed me hither to this place The trees, though summer, yet forlorn and lean, Overcome with moss and baleful mistletoe; Here never shines the sun; here nothing breeds, Unless the nightly owl or fatal raven And then they call'd me foul adulteress, Lascivious Goth, and all the bitterest terms That ever ear did hear to such effect; And had you not by wondrous fortune come, This vengeance on me had they executed Give me the poniard; you shall know, my boys, Your mother's hand shall right your mother's wrong Stay, madam, here is more belongs to her; First thrash the corn, then after burn the straw Therefore away with her, and use her as you will; The worse to her the better lov'd of me Come on, my lords, the better foot before; Straight will I bring you to the loathsome pit Where I espied the panther fast asleep [Aside] Now will I fetch the King to find them here, That he thereby may have a likely guess How these were they that made away his brother The unhappy sons of old Andronicus, Brought hither in a most unlucky hour, To find thy brother Bassianus dead He and his lady both are at the lodge Upon the north side of this pleasant chase; 'Tis not an hour since I left them there [Reads] 'An if we miss to meet him handsomely, Sweet huntsman- Bassianus 'tis we mean- Do thou so much as dig the grave for him Do this, and purchase us thy lasting friends.' O Tamora! was ever heard the like? This is the pit and this the elder-tree [To TITUS] Two of thy whelps, fell curs of bloody kind, Have here bereft my brother of his life Sirs, drag them from the pit unto the prison; There let them bide until we have devis'd Some never-heard-of torturing pain for them I did, my lord, yet let me be their bail; For, by my fathers' reverend tomb, I vow They shall be ready at your Highness' will To answer their suspicion with their lives Some bring the murdered body, some the murderers; Let them not speak a word- the guilt is plain; For, by my soul, were there worse end than death, That end upon them should be executed So, now go tell, an if thy tongue can speak, Who 'twas that cut thy tongue and ravish'd thee Write down thy mind, bewray thy meaning so, An if thy stumps will let thee play the scribe Shall I speak for thee? Shall I say 'tis so? O, that I knew thy heart, and knew the beast, That I might rail at him to ease my mind! Sorrow concealed, like an oven stopp'd, Doth burn the heart to cinders where it is Fair Philomel, why she but lost her tongue, And in a tedious sampler sew'd her mind; But, lovely niece, that mean is cut from thee O, had the monster seen those lily hands Tremble like aspen leaves upon a lute And make the silken strings delight to kiss them, He would not then have touch'd them for his life! Or had he heard the heavenly harmony Which that sweet tongue hath made, He would have dropp'd his knife, and fell asleep, As Cerberus at the Thracian poet's feet 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 Therefore I tell my sorrows to the stones; Who though they cannot answer my distress, Yet in some sort they are better than the Tribunes, For that they will not intercept my tale When I do weep, they humbly at my feet Receive my tears, and seem to weep with me; And were they but attired in grave weeds, Rome could afford no tribunes like to these A stone is silent and offendeth not, And tribunes with their tongues doom men to death 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 Look, Marcus! Ah, son Lucius, look on her! When I did name her brothers, then fresh tears Stood on her cheeks, as doth the honey dew Upon a gath'red lily almost withered Perchance she weeps because they kill'd her husband; Perchance because she knows them innocent If they did kill thy husband, then be joyful, Because the law hath ta'en revenge on them Had she a tongue to speak, now would she say That to her brother which I said to thee 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 Which of your hands hath not defended Rome And rear'd aloft the bloody battle-axe, Writing destruction on the enemy's castle? O, none of both but are of high desert! My hand hath been but idle; let it serve To ransom my two nephews from their death; Then have I kept it to a worthy end Nay, come, agree whose hand shall go along, For fear they die before their pardon come Sirs, strive no more; such with'red herbs as these Are meet for plucking up, and therefore mine Sweet father, if I shall be thought thy son, Let me redeem my brothers both from death Come hither, Aaron, I'll deceive them both; Lend me thy hand, and I will give thee mine O, here I lift this one hand up to heaven, And bow this feeble ruin to the earth; If any power pities wretched tears, To that I call! [To LAVINIA] What, would'st thou kneel with me? Do, then, dear heart; for heaven shall hear our prayers, Or with our sighs we'll breathe the welkin dim And stain the sun with fog, as sometime clouds When they do hug him in their melting bosoms When heaven doth weep, doth not the earth o'erflow? If the winds rage, doth not the sea wax mad, Threat'ning the welkin with his big-swol'n face? And wilt thou have a reason for this coil? I am the sea; hark how her sighs do blow She is the weeping welkin, I the earth; Then must my sea be moved with her sighs; Then must my earth with her continual tears Become a deluge, overflow'd and drown'd; For why my bowels cannot hide her woes, But like a drunkard must I vomit them Then give me leave; for losers will have leave To ease their stomachs with their bitter tongues Here are the heads of thy two noble sons; And here's thy hand, in scorn to thee sent back- Thy grief their sports, thy resolution mock'd, That woe is me to think upon thy woes, More than remembrance of my father's death Now let hot Aetna cool in Sicily, And be my heart an ever-burning hell! These miseries are more than may be borne Rent off thy silver hair, thy other hand Gnawing with thy teeth; and be this dismal sight The closing up of our most wretched eyes 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 Then which way shall I find Revenge's cave? For these two heads do seem to speak to me, And threat me I shall never come to bliss Till all these mischiefs be return'd again Even in their throats that have committed them If Lucius live, he will requite your wrongs And make proud Saturnine and his emperess Beg at the gates like Tarquin and his queen So so, now sit; and look you eat no more Than will preserve just so much strength in us As will revenge these bitter woes of ours This poor right hand of mine Is left to tyrannize upon my breast; Who, when my heart, all mad with misery, Beats in this hollow prison of my flesh, Then thus I thump it down 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 Speechless complainer, I will learn thy thought; In thy dumb action will I be as perfect As begging hermits in their holy prayers Out on thee, murderer, thou kill'st my heart! Mine eyes are cloy'd with view of tyranny; A deed of death done on the innocent Becomes not Titus' brother Pardon me, sir; it was a black ill-favour'd fly, Like to the Empress' Moor; therefore I kill'd him Give me thy knife, I will insult on him, Flattering myself as if it were the Moor Come hither purposely to poison me Lavinia, go with me; I'll to thy closet, and go read with thee Sad stories chanced in the times of old TITUS' garden Enter YOUNG LUCIUS and LAVINIA running after him, and the boy flies from her with his books under his arm Which is it, girl, of these?- Open them, boy.- But thou art deeper read and better skill'd; Come and take choice of all my library, And so beguile thy sorrow, till the heavens Reveal the damn'd contriver of this deed I think she means that there were more than one Confederate in the fact; ay, more there was, Or else to heaven she heaves them for revenge Give signs, sweet girl, for here are none but friends, What Roman lord it was durst do the deed 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 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 Lucius, I'll fit thee; and withal my boy Shall carry from me to the Empress' sons Presents that I intend to send them both [Aside] Now, what a thing it is to be an ass! Here's no sound jest! The old man hath found their guilt, And sends them weapons wrapp'd about with lines That wound, beyond their feeling, to the quick But let her rest in her unrest awhile- And now, young lords, was't not a happy star Led us to Rome, strangers, and more than so, Captives, to be advanced to this height? It did me good before the palace gate To brave the Tribune in his brother's hearing 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 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 What, what, ye sanguine, shallow-hearted boys! Ye white-lim'd walls! ye alehouse painted signs! Coal-black is better than another hue In that it scorns to bear another hue; For all the water in the ocean Can never turn the swan's black legs to white, Although she lave them hourly in the flood Fie, treacherous hue, that will betray with blushing The close enacts and counsels of thy heart! Here's a young lad fram'd of another leer Why, so, brave lords! When we join in league I am a lamb; but if you brave the Moor, The chafed boar, the mountain lioness, The ocean swells not so as Aaron storms 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 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 Kinsmen, shoot all your shafts into the court; We will afflict the Emperor in his pride when Publius shot, The Bull, being gall'd, gave Aries such a knock That down fell both the Ram's horns in the court; And who should find them but the Empress' villain? She laugh'd, and told the Moor he should not choose But give them to his master for a present Why, there it goes! God give his lordship joy! Enter the CLOWN, with a basket and two pigeons in it News, news from heaven! Marcus, the post is come Ho, the gibbet-maker? He says that he hath taken them down again, for the man must not be hang'd till the next week 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 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 Before the palace Enter the EMPEROR, and the EMPRESS and her two sons, DEMETRIUS and CHIRON; LORDS and others But if I live, his feigned ecstasies Shall be no shelter to these outrages; But he and his shall know that justice lives In Saturninus' health; whom, if she sleep, He'll so awake as he in fury shall Cut off the proud'st conspirator that lives My gracious lord, my lovely Saturnine, Lord of my life, commander of my thoughts, Calm thee, and bear the faults of Titus' age, Th' effects of sorrow for his valiant sons Whose loss hath pierc'd him deep and scarr'd his heart; And rather comfort his distressed plight Than prosecute the meanest or the best For these contempts But, Titus, I have touch'd thee to the quick, Thy life-blood out; if Aaron now be wise, Then is all safe, the anchor in the port '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 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 Then cheer thy spirit; for know thou, Emperor, I will enchant the old Andronicus With words more sweet, and yet more dangerous, Than baits to fish or honey-stalks to sheep, When as the one is wounded with the bait, The other rotted with delicious feed [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 Now will I to that old Andronicus, And temper him with all the art I have, To pluck proud Lucius from the warlike Goths 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 I made unto the noise, when soon I heard The crying babe controll'd with this discourse 'Peace, tawny slave, half me and half thy dam! Did not thy hue bewray whose brat thou art, Had nature lent thee but thy mother's look, Villain, thou mightst have been an emperor; But where the bull and cow are both milk-white, They never do beget a coal-black calf Peace, villain, peace!'- even thus he rates the babe- 'For I must bear thee to a trusty Goth, Who, when he knows thou art the Empress' babe, Will hold thee dearly for thy mother's sake.' With this, my weapon drawn, I rush'd upon him, Surpris'd him suddenly, and brought him hither To use as you think needful of the man 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 First hang the child, that he may see it sprawl- A sight to vex the father's soul withal What if I do not? as indeed I do not; Yet, for I know thou art religious And hast a thing within thee called conscience, With twenty popish tricks and ceremonies Which I have seen thee careful to observe, Therefore I urge thy oath Therefore thou shalt vow By that same god- what god soe'er it be That thou adorest and hast in reverence- To save my boy, to nourish and bring him up; Or else I will discover nought to thee Why, she was wash'd, and cut, and trimm'd, and 'twas Trim sport for them which had the doing of it 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 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 How can I grace my talk, Wanting a hand to give it that accord? Thou hast the odds of me; therefore no more Come down and welcome me to this world's light; Confer with me of murder and of death; There's not a hollow cave or lurking-place, No vast obscurity or misty vale, Where bloody murder or detested rape Can couch for fear but I will find them out; And in their ears tell them my dreadful name- Revenge, which makes the foul offender quake 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 Provide thee two proper palfreys, black as jet, To hale thy vengeful waggon swift away, And find out murderers in their guilty caves; And when thy car is loaden with their heads, I will dismount, and by thy waggon wheel Trot, like a servile footman, all day long, Even from Hyperion's rising in the east Until his very downfall in the sea 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 Whate'er I forge to feed his brain-sick humours, Do you uphold and maintain in your speeches, For now he firmly takes me for Revenge; And, being credulous in this mad thought, I'll make him send for Lucius his son, And whilst I at a banquet hold him sure, I'll find some cunning practice out of hand To scatter and disperse the giddy Goths, Or, at the least, make them his enemies 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 Enter MARCUS Go, gentle Marcus, to thy nephew Lucius; Thou shalt inquire him out among the Goths Bid him repair to me, and bring with him Some of the chiefest princes of the Goths; Bid him encamp his soldiers where they are Tell him the Emperor and the Empress too Feast at my house, and he shall feast with them [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 Sirs, stop their mouths, let them not speak to me; But let them hear what fearful words I utter This one hand yet is left to cut your throats, Whiles that Lavinia 'tween her stumps doth hold The basin that receives your guilty blood Hark, villains! I will grind your bones to dust, And with your blood and it I'll make a paste; And of the paste a coffin I will rear, And make two pasties of your shameful heads; And bid that strumpet, your unhallowed dam, Like to the earth, swallow her own increase 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 A reason mighty, strong, and effectual; A pattern, precedent, and lively warrant For me, most wretched, to perform the like They ravish'd her, and cut away her tongue; And they, 'twas they, that did her all this wrong Why, there they are, both baked in this pie, Whereof their mother daintily hath fed, Eating the flesh that she herself hath bred Can the son's eye behold his father bleed? There's meed for meed, death for a deadly deed Tell us what Sinon hath bewitch'd our ears, Or who hath brought the fatal engine in That gives our Troy, our Rome, the civil wound 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 I am the turned forth, be it known to you, That have preserv'd her welfare in my blood And from her bosom took the enemy's point, Sheathing the steel in my advent'rous body [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 Come, come, thou reverend man of Rome, And bring our Emperor gently in thy hand, Lucius our Emperor; for well I know The common voice do cry it shall be so 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 You sad Andronici, have done with woes; Give sentence on the execrable wretch That hath been breeder of these dire events 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 Troy and the Greek camp before it PROLOGUE TROILUS AND CRESSIDA PROLOGUE In Troy, there lies the scene 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 To Tenedos they come, And the deep-drawing barks do there disgorge Their war-like fraughtage Now on Dardan plains The fresh and yet unbruised Greeks do pitch Their brave pavilions Priam's six-gated city, Dardan, and Tymbria, Helias, Chetas, Troien, And Antenorides, with massy staples And corresponsive and fulfilling bolts, Sperr up the sons of Troy Like or find fault; do as your pleasures are; Now good or bad, 'tis but the chance of war. Well, I have told you enough of this; for my part, I'll not meddle nor make no farther At Priam's royal table do I sit; And when fair Cressid comes into my thoughts- So, traitor, then she comes when she is thence An her hair were not somewhat darker than Helen's- well, go to- there were no more comparison between the women O Pandarus! I tell thee, Pandarus- When I do tell thee there my hopes lie drown'd, Reply not in how many fathoms deep They lie indrench'd O, that her hand, In whose comparison all whites are ink Writing their own reproach; to whose soft seizure The cygnet's down is harsh, and spirit of sense Hard as the palm of ploughman! This thou tell'st me, As true thou tell'st me, when I say I love her; But, saying thus, instead of oil and balm, Thou lay'st in every gash that love hath given me The knife that made it Up to the eastern tower, Whose height commands as subject all the vale, To see the battle there is among the Greeks A lord of Troyan blood, nephew to Hector; They call him Ajax True, he was so; I know the cause too; he'll lay about him today, I can tell them that And there's Troilus will not come far behind him; let them take heed of Troilus, I can tell them that too Why, he is very young, and yet will he within three pound lift as much as his brother Hector I'll tell you them all by their names as they pass by; but mark Troilus above the rest That's Hector, that, that, look you, that; there's a fellow! Go thy way, Hector! There's a brave man, niece Look you what hacks are on his helmet! Look you yonder, do you see? Look you there Asses, fools, dolts! chaff and bran, chaff and bran! porridge after meat! I could live and die in the eyes of Troilus Ay, a minc'd man; and then to be bak'd with no date in the pie, for then the man's date is out That she was never yet that ever knew Love got so sweet as when desire did sue; Therefore this maxim out of love I teach 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 Troy, yet upon his basis, had been down, And the great Hector's sword had lack'd a master, But for these instances When that the general is not like the hive, To whom the foragers shall all repair, What honey is expected? Degree being vizarded, Th' unworthiest shows as fairly in the mask 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 Now play him me, Patroclus, Arming to answer in a night alarm.' And then, forsooth, the faint defects of age Must be the scene of mirth to cough and spit And, with a palsy-fumbling on his gorget, Shake in and out the rivet And at this sport Sir Valour dies; cries 'O, enough, Patroclus; Or give me ribs of steel! I shall split all In pleasure of my spleen.' And in this fashion All our abilities, gifts, natures, shapes, Severals and generals of grace exact, Achievements, plots, orders, preventions, Excitements to the field or speech for truce, Success or loss, what is or is not, serves As stuff for these two to make paradoxes Ay; I ask, that I might waken reverence, And bid the cheek be ready with a blush Modest as Morning when she coldly eyes The youthful Phoebus Courtiers as free, as debonair, unarm'd, As bending angels; that's their fame in peace 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 Kings, princes, lords! If there be one among the fair'st of Greece That holds his honour higher than his ease, That seeks his praise more than he fears his peril, That knows his valour and knows not his fear, That loves his mistress more than in confession With truant vows to her own lips he loves, And dare avow her beauty and her worth In other arms than hers-to him this challenge If any come, Hector shall honour him; If none, he'll say in Troy, when he retires, The Grecian dames are sunburnt and not worth The splinter of a lance He is old now; But if there be not in our Grecian mould One noble man that hath one spark of fire To answer for his love, tell him from me I'll hide my silver beard in a gold beaver, And in my vantbrace put this wither'd brawn, And, meeting him, will tell him that my lady Was fairer than his grandame, and as chaste As may be in the world It is suppos'd He that meets Hector issues from our choice; And choice, being mutual act of all our souls, Makes merit her election, and doth boil, As 'twere from forth us all, a man distill'd Out of our virtues; who miscarrying, What heart receives from hence a conquering part, To steel a strong opinion to themselves? Which entertain'd, limbs are his instruments, In no less working than are swords and bows Directive by the limbs Let us, like merchants, show our foulest wares And think perchance they'll sell; if not, the lustre Of the better yet to show shall show the better, By showing the worst first No, make a lott'ry; And, by device, let blockish Ajax draw The sort to fight with Hector Ay, do, do; thou sodden-witted lord! Thou hast no more brain than I have in mine elbows; an assinico may tutor thee Why, how now, Ajax! Wherefore do you thus? How now, Thersites! What's the matter, man? THERSITES I will buy nine sparrows for a penny, and his pia mater is not worth the ninth part of a sparrow I would have peace and quietness, but the fool will not- he there; that he; look you there 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 After so many hours, lives, speeches, spent, Thus once again says Nestor from the Greeks The wound of peace is surety, Surety secure; but modest doubt is call'd The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches To th' bottom of the worst You know an enemy intends you harm; You know a sword employ'd is perilous, And reason flies the object of all harm It holds his estimate and dignity As well wherein 'tis precious of itself As in the prizer 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 For what, alas, can these my single arms? What propugnation is in one man's valour To stand the push and enmity of those This quarrel would excite? Yet, I protest, Were I alone to pass the difficulties, And had as ample power as I have will, Paris should ne'er retract what he hath done Nor faint in the pursuit What treason were it to the ransack'd queen, Disgrace to your great worths, and shame to me, Now to deliver her possession up On terms of base compulsion! Can it be That so degenerate a strain as this Should once set footing in your generous bosoms? There's not the meanest spirit on our party Without a heart to dare or sword to draw When Helen is defended; nor none so noble Whose life were ill bestow'd or death unfam'd Where Helen is the subject Then, I say, Well may we fight for her whom we know well The world's large spaces cannot parallel But, worthy Hector, She is a theme of honour and renown, A spur to valiant and magnanimous deeds, Whose present courage may beat down our foes, And fame in time to come canonize us; For I presume brave Hector would not lose So rich advantage of a promis'd glory As smiles upon the forehead of this action For the wide world's revenue I have a roisting challenge sent amongst The dull and factious nobles of the Greeks Will strike amazement to their drowsy spirits Then there's Achilles, a rare engineer! If Troy be not taken till these two undermine it, the walls will stand till they fall of themselves 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 Where, where? O, where? Art thou come? Why, my cheese, my digestion, why hast thou not served thyself in to my table so many meals? Come, what's Agamemnon? THERSITES No, noble Ajax; you are as strong, as valiant, as wise, no less noble, much more gentle, and altogether more tractable Pride is his own glass, his own trumpet, his own chronicle; and whatever praises itself but in the deed devours the deed in the praise O Agamemnon, let it not be so! We'll consecrate the steps that Ajax makes When they go from Achilles 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 I come to speak with Paris from the Prince Troilus; I will make a complimental assault upon him, for my business seethes [Sings] Love, love, nothing but love, still love, still more! For, oh, love's bow Shoots buck and doe; The shaft confounds Not that it wounds, But tickles still the sore 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 Th' imaginary relish is so sweet That it enchants my sense; what will it be When that the wat'ry palate tastes indeed Love's thrice-repured nectar? Death, I fear me; Swooning destruction; or some joy too fine, Too subtle-potent, tun'd too sharp in sweetness, For the capacity of my ruder powers I fear it much; and I do fear besides That I shall lose distinction in my joys; As doth a battle, when they charge on heaps The enemy flying My heart beats thicker than a feverous pulse, And all my powers do their bestowing lose, Like vassalage at unawares encount'ring The eye of majesty O, let my lady apprehend no fear! In all Cupid's pageant there is presented no monster 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 In faith, I lie; My thoughts were like unbridled children, grown Too headstrong for their mother Sweet, bid me hold my tongue, For in this rapture I shall surely speak The thing I shall repent I have a kind of self resides with you; But an unkind self, that itself will leave To be another's fool 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 Pride hath no other glass To show itself but pride; for supple knees Feed arrogance and are the proud man's fees What the declin'd is, He shall as soon read in the eyes of others As feel in his own fall; for men, like butterflies, Show not their mealy wings but to the summer; And not a man for being simply man Hath any honour, but honour for those honours That are without him, as place, riches, and favour, Prizes of accident, as oft as merit; Which when they fall, as being slippery standers, The love that lean'd on them as slippery too, Doth one pluck down another, and together Die in the fall Fortune and I are friends; I do enjoy At ample point all that I did possess Save these men's looks; who do, methinks, find out Something not worth in me such rich beholding As they have often given A strange fellow here Writes me that man-how dearly ever parted, How much in having, or without or in- Cannot make boast to have that which he hath, Nor feels not what he owes, but by reflection; As when his virtues shining upon others Heat them, and they retort that heat again To the first giver Then what they do in present, Though less than yours in past, must o'ertop yours; For Time is like a fashionable host, That slightly shakes his parting guest by th' hand; And with his arms out-stretch'd, as he would fly, Grasps in the corner Is that a wonder? The providence that's in a watchful state Knows almost every grain of Plutus' gold; Finds bottom in th' uncomprehensive deeps; Keeps place with thought, and almost, like the gods, Do thoughts unveil in their dumb cradles Those wounds heal ill that men do give themselves; Omission to do what is necessary Seals a commission to a blank of danger; And danger, like an ague, subtly taints Even then when they sit idly in the sun Tell him I humbly desire the valiant Ajax to invite the most valorous Hector to come unarm'd to my tent; and to procure safe conduct for his person of the magnanimous and most illustrious six-or-seven-times-honour'd Captain General of the Grecian army, et cetera, Agamemnon Witness the process of your speech, wherein You told how Diomed, a whole week by days, Did haunt you in the field In humane gentleness, Welcome to Troy! now, by Anchises' life, Welcome indeed! By Venus' hand I swear No man alive can love in such a sort The thing he means to kill, more excellently This is the most despiteful'st gentle greeting The noblest hateful love, that e'er I heard of 'twas to bring this Greek To Calchas' house, and there to render him, For the enfreed Antenor, the fair Cressid I constantly believe- Or rather call my thought a certain knowledge- My brother Troilus lodges there to-night Both merits pois'd, each weighs nor less nor more; But he as he, the heavier for a whore O Cressida! but that the busy day, Wak'd by the lark, hath rous'd the ribald crows, And dreaming night will hide our joys no longer, I would not from thee There is at hand Paris your brother, and Deiphobus, The Grecian Diomed, and our Antenor Deliver'd to us; and for him forthwith, Ere the first sacrifice, within this hour, We must give up to Diomedes' hand The Lady Cressida Is't possible? No sooner got but lost? The devil take Antenor! The young prince will go mad I have forgot my father; I know no touch of consanguinity, No kin, no love, no blood, no soul so near me As the sweet Troilus Good my brother Troilus, Tell you the lady what she is to do And haste her to the purpose I'll bring her to the Grecian presently; And to his hand when I deliver her, Think it an altar, and thy brother Troilus A priest, there off'ring to it his own heart 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 Cressid, I love thee in so strain'd a purity That the bless'd gods, as angry with my fancy, More bright in zeal than the devotion which Cold lips blow to their deities, take thee from me And suddenly; where injury of chance Puts back leave-taking, justles roughly by All time of pause, rudely beguiles our lips Of all rejoindure, forcibly prevents Our lock'd embrasures, strangles our dear vows Even in the birth of our own labouring breath We two, that with so many thousand sighs Did buy each other, must poorly sell ourselves With the rude brevity and discharge of one As many farewells as be stars in heaven, With distinct breath and consign'd kisses to them, He fumbles up into a loose adieu, And scants us with a single famish'd kiss, Distasted with the salt of broken tears But something may be done that we will not; And sometimes we are devils to ourselves, When we will tempt the frailty of our powers, Presuming on their changeful potency 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 How have we spent this morning! The Prince must think me tardy and remiss, That swore to ride before him to the field 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 Now crack thy lungs and split thy brazen pipe; Blow, villain, till thy sphered bias cheek Out-swell the colic of puff Aquilon'd I'll make my match to live, The kiss you take is better than you give; Therefore no kiss 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 'Tis done like Hector; but securely done, A little proudly, and great deal misprizing The knight oppos'd In the extremity of great and little Valour and pride excel themselves in Hector; The one almost as infinite as all, The other blank as nothing Were thy commixtion Greek and Troyan so That thou could'st say 'This hand is Grecian all, And this is Troyan; the sinews of this leg All Greek, and this all Troy; my mother's blood Runs on the dexter cheek, and this sinister Bounds in my father's'; by Jove multipotent, Thou shouldst not bear from me a Greekish member Wherein my sword had not impressure made Of our rank feud; but the just gods gainsay That any drop thou borrow'dst from thy mother, My sacred aunt, should by my mortal sword Be drained! Let me embrace thee, Ajax Aeneas, call my brother Troilus to me, And signify this loving interview To the expecters of our Troyan part; Desire them home My prophecy is but half his journey yet; For yonder walls, that pertly front your town, Yond towers, whose wanton tops do buss the clouds, Must kiss their own feet 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 I pray you let us see you in the field; We have had pelting wars since you refus'd The Grecians' cause First, all you peers of Greece, go to my tent; There in the full convive we; afterwards, As Hector's leisure and your bounties shall Concur together, severally entreat him There Diomed doth feast with him to-night, Who neither looks upon the heaven nor earth, But gives all gaze and bent of amorous view On the fair Cressid Why, thou picture of what thou seemest, and idol of idiot worshippers, here's a letter for thee 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 it is prodigious, there will come some change; the sun borrows of the moon when Diomed keeps his word O all you gods! O pretty, pretty pledge! Thy master now lies thinking on his bed Of thee and me, and sighs, and takes my glove, And gives memorial dainty kisses to it, As I kiss thee Exit DIOMEDES Troilus, farewell! One eye yet looks on thee; But with my heart the other eye doth see O Cressid! O false Cressid! false, false, false! Let all untruths stand by thy stained name, And they'll seem glorious The gods are deaf to hot and peevish vows; They are polluted off'rings, more abhorr'd Than spotted livers in the sacrifice 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 Lay hold upon him, Priam, hold him fast; He is thy crutch; now if thou lose thy stay, Thou on him leaning, and all Troy on thee, Fall all together Thy wife hath dreamt; thy mother hath had visions; Cassandra doth foresee; and I myself Am like a prophet suddenly enrapt To tell thee that this day is ominous Aeneas is a-field; And I do stand engag'd to many Greeks, Even in the faith of valour, to appear This morning to them Go in, and cheer the town; we'll forth, and fight, Do deeds worth praise and tell you them at night Words, words, mere words, no matter from the heart; Th' effect doth operate another way What art thou, Greek? Art thou for Hector's match? Art thou of blood and honour? THERSITES God-a-mercy, that thou wilt believe me; but a plague break thy neck for frighting me! What's become of the wenching rogues? I think they have swallowed one another Go, go, my servant, take thou Troilus' horse; Present the fair steed to my lady Cressid There is a thousand Hectors in the field; Now here he fights on Galathe his horse, And there lacks work; anon he's there afoot, And there they fly or die, like scaled sculls Before the belching whale; then is he yonder, And there the strawy Greeks, ripe for his edge, Fall down before him like the mower's swath Now, bull! now, dog! 'Loo, Paris, 'loo! now my double-horn'd Spartan! 'loo, Paris, 'loo! The bull has the game Look, Hector, how the sun begins to set; How ugly night comes breathing at his heels; Even with the vail and dark'ning of the sun, To close the day up, Hector's life is done The dragon wing of night o'erspreads the earth And, stickler-like, the armies separates [Sheathes his sword] Come, tie his body to my horse's tail; Along the field I will the Troyan trail He's dead, and at the murderer's horse's tail, In beastly sort, dragg'd through the shameful field I do not speak of flight, of fear of death, But dare all imminence that gods and men Address their dangers in 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 If music be the food of love, play on, Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken and so die Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope, Whereto thy speech serves for authority, The like of him And so is now, or was so very late; For but a month ago I went from hence, And then 'twas fresh in murmur- as, you know, What great ones do the less will prattle of- That he did seek the love of fair Olivia That were hard to compass, Because she will admit no kind of suit- No, not the Duke's I prithee, and I'll pay thee bounteously, Conceal me what I am, and be my aid For such disguise as haply shall become The form of my intent Be you his eunuch and your mute I'll be; When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see What a plague means my niece to take the death of her brother thus? I am sure care's an enemy to life These clothes are good enough to drink in, and so be these boots too; an they be not, let them hang themselves in their own straps 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 He hath indeed, almost natural; for, besides that he's a fool, he's a great quarreller; and but that he hath the gift of a coward to allay the gust he hath in quarrelling, 'tis thought among the prudent he would quickly have the gift of a grave 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 Your niece will not be seen, or if she be, it's four to one she'll none of me; the Count himself here hard by woos her I am a fellow o' th' strangest mind i' th' world; I delight in masques and revels sometimes altogether You either fear his humour or my negligence, that you call in question the continuance of his love Cesario, Thou know'st no less but all; I have unclasp'd To thee the book even of my secret soul O, then unfold the passion of my love, Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith! It shall become thee well to act my woes Nay, either tell me where thou hast been, or I will not open my lips so wide as a bristle may enter in way of thy excuse; my lady will hang thee for thy absence Well, God give them wisdom that have it; and those that are fools, let them use their talents Wit, an't be thy will, put me into good fooling! Those wits that think they have thee do very oft prove fools; and I that am sure I lack thee may pass for a wise man Two faults, madonna, that drink and good counsel will amend; for give the dry fool drink, then is the fool not dry I protest I take these wise men that crow so at these set kind of fools no better than the fools' zanies I told him you were sick; he takes on him to understand so much, and therefore comes to speak with you I told him you were asleep; he seems to have a foreknowledge of that too, and therefore comes to speak with you He is very well-favour'd, and he speaks very shrewishly; one would think his mother's milk were scarce out of him Most radiant, exquisite, and unmatchable beauty- I pray you tell me if this be the lady of the house, for I never saw her Good beauties, let me sustain no scorn; I am very comptible, even to the least sinister usage I heard you were saucy at my gates, and allow'd your approach rather to wonder at you than to hear you What I am and what I would are as secret as maidenhead- to your cars, divinity; to any other's, profanation 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 Lady, you are the cruell'st she alive, If you will lead these graces to the grave, And leave the world no copy I am a gentleman.' I'll be sworn thou art; Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions, and spirit, Do give thee five-fold blazon The gentleness of all the gods go with thee! I have many cnemies in Orsino's court, Else would I very shortly see thee there I had rather than forty shillings I had such a leg, and so sweet a breath to sing, as the fool has 'Hold thy peace, thou knave' knight? I shall be constrain'd in't to call thee knave, knight Sweet Sir Toby, be patient for to-night; since the youth of the Count's was to-day with my lady, she is much out of quiet He shall think, by the letters that thou wilt drop, that they come from my niece, and that she's in love with him I will plant you two, and let the fool make a third, where he shall find the letter; observe his construction of it 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 Mark it, Cesario; it is old and plain; The spinsters and the knitters in the sun, And the free maids that weave their thread with bones, Do use to chant it; it is silly sooth, And dallies with the innocence of love, Like the old age I would have men of such constancy put to sea, that their business might be everything, and their intent everywhere Exeunt CURIO and ATTENDANTS Once more, Cesario, Get thee to yond same sovereign cruelty There is no woman's sides Can bide the beating of so strong a passion As love doth give my heart; no woman's heart So big to hold so much; they lack retention I am all the daughters of my father's house, And all the brothers too- and yet I know not This simulation is not as the former; and yet, to crush this a little, it would bow to me, for every one of these letters are in my name Be opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants; let thy tongue tang arguments of state; put thyself into the trick of singularity Remember who commended thy yellow stockings, and wish'd to see thee ever cross-garter'd If thou entertain'st my love, let it appear in thy smiling; thy smiles become thee well Therefore in my presence still smile, dear my sweet, I prithee.' Jove, I thank thee 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 Troth, sir, I can yield you none without words, and words are grown so false I am loath to prove reason with them 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 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 I bade you never speak again of him; But, would you undertake another suit, I had rather hear you to solicit that Than music from the spheres O world, how apt the poor are to be proud! If one should be a prey, how much the better To fall before the lion than the wolf! [Clock strikes] The clock upbraids me with the waste of time Do not extort thy reasons from this clause, For that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause; But rather reason thus with reason fetter You should then have accosted her; and with some excellent jests, fire-new from the mint, you should have bang'd the youth into dumbness The double gilt of this opportunity you let time wash off, and you are now sail'd into the north of my lady's opinion; where you will hang like an icicle on Dutchman's beard, unless you do redeem it by some laudable attempt either of valour or policy He does smile his face into more lines than is in the new map with the augmentation of the Indies I would not by my will have troubled you; But since you make your pleasure of your pains, I will no further chide you I will bespeak our diet, Whiles you beguile the time and feed your knowledge With viewing of the town; there shall you have me Where's my cousin Toby? Let some of my people have a special care of him; I would not have him miscarry for the half of my dowry O, ho! do you come near me now? No worse man than Sir Toby to look to me! This concurs directly with the letter she sends him on purpose, that I may appear stubborn to him; for she incites me to that in the letter '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 How do you, Malvolio? How is't with you? What, man, defy the devil; consider, he's an enemy to mankind Therefore this letter, being so excellently ignorant, will breed no terror in the youth Of what nature the wrongs are thou hast done him, I know not; but thy intercepter, full of despite, bloody as the hunter, attends thee at the orchard end Sir, no; his indignation derives itself out of a very competent injury; therefore, get you on and give him his desire I know the knight is incens'd against you, even to a mortal arbitrement; but nothing of the circumstance more Nothing of that wonderful promise, to read him by his form, as you are like to find him in the proof of his valour I had a pass with him, rapier, scabbard, and all, and he gives me the stuck in with such a mortal motion that it is inevitable; and on the answer, he pays you as surely as your feet hit the ground they step on Re-enter FABIAN and VIOLA [To FABIAN] I have his horse to take up the quarrel; I have persuaded him the youth's a devil [Aside] Pray God defend me! A little thing would make me tell them how much I lack of a man My having is not much; I'll make division of my present with you; Hold, there's half my coffer Virtue is beauty; but the beauteous evil Are empty trunks, o'erflourish'd by the devil Well held out, i' faith! No, I do not know you; nor I am not sent to you by my lady, to bid you come speak with her; nor your name is not Master Cesario; nor this is not my nose neither Nay, I prithee, put on this gown and this beard; make him believe thou art Sir Topas the curate; do it quickly Well, I'll put it on, and I will dissemble myself in't; and I would I were the first that ever dissembled in such a gown I say there is no darkness but ignorance; in which thou art more puzzled than the Egyptians in their fog If he may be conveniently deliver'd, I would he were; for I am now so far in offence with my niece that I cannot pursue with any safety this sport to the upshot Good fool, as ever thou wilt deserve well at my hand, help me to a candle, and pen, ink, and paper; as I am a gentleman, I will live to be thankful to thee for't Where's Antonio, then? I could not find him at the Elephant; Yet there he was; and there I found this credit, That he did range the town to seek me out Then lead the way, good father; and heavens so shine That they may fairly note this act of mine! Exeunt Now my foes tell me plainly I am an ass; so that by my foes, sir, I profit in the knowledge of myself, and by my friends I am abused; so that, conclusions to be as kisses, if your four negatives make your two affirmatives, why then, the worse for my friends, and the better for my foes You can fool no more money out of me at this throw; if you will let your lady know I am here to speak with her, and bring her along with you, it may awake my bounty further I go, sir; but I would not have you to think that my desire of having is the sin of covetousness That face of his I do remember well; Yet when I saw it last it was besmear'd As black as Vulcan in the smoke of war Here comes Sir Toby halting; you shall hear more; but if he had not been in drink, he would have tickl'd you othergates than he did How have you made division of yourself? An apple cleft in two is not more twin Than these two creatures A spirit I am indeed, But am in that dimension grossly clad Which from the womb I did participate Fetch Malvolio hither; And yet, alas, now I remember me, They say, poor gentleman, he's much distract So I do, madonna; but to read his right wits is to read thus; therefore perpend, my Princess, and give ear And now I do bethink me, it was she First told me thou wast mad; then cam'st in smiling, And in such forms which here were presuppos'd Upon thee in the letter 'By the Lord, fool, I am not mad!' But do you remember- 'Madam, why laugh you at such a barren rascal? An you smile not, he's gagg'd'? And thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges Exeunt all but the CLOWN CLOWN sings When that I was and a little tiny boy, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, A foolish thing was but a toy, For the rain it raineth every day But when I came to man's estate, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, 'Gainst knaves and thieves men shut their gate, For the rain it raineth every day But when I came, alas! to wive, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, By swaggering could I never thrive, For the rain it raineth every day But when I came unto my beds, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, With toss-pots still had drunken heads, For the rain it raineth every day Yet writers say, as in the sweetest bud The eating canker dwells, so eating love Inhabits in the finest wits of all 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 The shepherd seeks the sheep, and not the sheep the shepherd; but I seek my master, and my master seeks not me; therefore, I am no sheep He would have given it you; but I, being in the way, Did in your name receive it; pardon the fault, I pray 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 Nay, now you are too flat And mar the concord with too harsh a descant; There wanteth but a mean to fill your song Here is a coil with protestation! [Tears the letter] Go, get you gone; and let the papers lie She makes it strange; but she would be best pleas'd To be so ang'red with another letter 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 Nay, I was taken up for laying them down; Yet here they shall not lie for catching cold 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 Some to the wars, to try their fortune there; Some to discover islands far away; Some to the studious universities 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 I think your lordship is not ignorant How his companion, youthful Valentine, Attends the Emperor in his royal court I like thy counsel; well hast thou advis'd; And that thou mayst perceive how well I like it, The execution of it shall make known 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 Here is my hand for my true constancy; And when that hour o'erslips me in the day Wherein I sigh not, Julia, for thy sake, The next ensuing hour some foul mischance Torment me for my love's forgetfulness! My father stays my coming; answer not; The tide is now- nay, not thy tide of tears Nay, 'twill be this hour ere I have done weeping; all the kind of the Launces have this very fault I have receiv'd my proportion, like the Prodigious Son, and am going with Sir Proteus to the Imperial's court This shoe is my father; no, this left shoe is my father; no, no, left shoe is my mother; nay, that cannot be so neither; yes, it is so, it is so, it hath the worser sole 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 Lose the tide, and the voyage, and the master, and the service, and the tied! Why, man, if the river were dry, I am able to fill it with my tears; if the wind were down, I could drive the boat with my sighs I know it well, sir; you have an exchequer of words, and, I think, no other treasure to give your followers; for it appears by their bare liveries that they live by your bare words 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 Now no discourse, except it be of love; Now can I break my fast, dine, sup, and sleep, Upon the very naked name of love Then speak the truth by her; if not divine, Yet let her be a principality, Sovereign to all the creatures on the earth 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 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 Is it my mind, or Valentinus' praise, Her true perfection, or my false transgression, That makes me reasonless to reason thus? She is fair; and so is Julia that I love- That I did love, for now my love is thaw'd; Which like a waxen image 'gainst a fire Bears no impression of the thing it was How shall I dote on her with more advice That thus without advice begin to love her! 'Tis but her picture I have yet beheld, And that hath dazzled my reason's light; But when I look on her perfections, There is no reason but I shall be blind 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 Unheedful vows may heedfully be broken; And he wants wit that wants resolved will To learn his wit t' exchange the bad for better Fie, fie, unreverend tongue, to call her bad Whose sovereignty so oft thou hast preferr'd With twenty thousand soul-confirming oaths! I cannot leave to love, and yet I do; But there I leave to love where I should love Julia I lose, and Valentine I lose; If I keep them, I needs must lose myself; If I lose them, thus find I by their loss Thou wouldst as soon go kindle fire with snow As seek to quench the fire of love with words I do not seek to quench your love's hot fire, But qualify the fire's extreme rage, Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason The current that with gentle murmur glides, Thou know'st, being stopp'd, impatiently doth rage; But when his fair course is not hindered, He makes sweet music with th' enamell'd stones, Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge He overtaketh in his pilgrimage; And so by many winding nooks he strays, With willing sport, to the wild ocean All that is mine I leave at thy dispose, My goods, my lands, my reputation; Only, in lieu thereof, dispatch me hence Know, worthy prince, Sir Valentine, my friend, This night intends to steal away your daughter; Myself am one made privy to the plot 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 If she do frown, 'tis not in hate of you, But rather to beget more love in you; If she do chide, 'tis not to have you gone, For why, the fools are mad if left alone Take no repulse, whatever she doth say; For 'Get you gone' she doth not mean 'Away!' Flatter and praise, commend, extol their graces; Though ne'er so black, say they have angels' faces What letter is this same? What's here? 'To Silvia'! And here an engine fit for my proceeding! I'll be so bold to break the seal for once [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 Thank me for this more than for all the favours Which, all too much, I have bestow'd on thee 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 Except I be by Silvia in the night, There is no music in the nightingale; Unless I look on Silvia in the day, There is no day for me to look upon My ears are stopp'd and cannot hear good news, So much of bad already hath possess'd them Ay, ay; and she hath offered to the doom- Which, unrevers'd, stands in effectual force- A sea of melting pearl, which some call tears; Those at her father's churlish feet she tender'd; With them, upon her knees, her humble self, Wringing her hands, whose whiteness so became them As if but now they waxed pale for woe Besides, her intercession chaf'd him so, When she for thy repeal was suppliant, That to close prison he commanded her, With many bitter threats of biding there Thy letters may be here, though thou art hence, Which, being writ to me, shall be deliver'd Even in the milk-white bosom of thy love I pray thee, Launce, an if thou seest my boy, Bid him make haste and meet me at the Northgate That's as much as to say 'bastard virtues'; that indeed know not their fathers, and therefore have no names the cover of the salt hides the salt, and therefore it is more than the salt; the hair that covers the wit is more than the wit, for the greater hides the less Thou must run to him, for thou hast stay'd so long that going will scarce serve the turn An unmannerly slave that will thrust himself into secrets! I'll after, to rejoice in the boy's correction Proteus, the good conceit I hold of thee- For thou hast shown some sign of good desert- Makes me the better to confer with thee Thou know'st how willingly I would effect The match between Sir Thurio and my daughter 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 Then to Silvia let us sing That Silvia is excelling; She excels each mortal thing Upon the dull earth dwelling How now, are you sadder than you were before? How do you, man? The music likes you not For me, by this pale queen of night I swear, I am so far from granting thy request That I despise thee for thy wrongful suit, And by and by intend to chide myself Even for this time I spend in talking to thee Go to thy lady's grave, and call hers thence; Or, at the least, in hers sepulchre thine This is the hour that Madam Silvia Entreated me to call and know her mind; There's some great matter she'd employ me in I, having been acquainted with the smell before, knew it was Crab, and goes me to the fellow that whips the dogs 'You do him the more wrong,' quoth I; "twas I did the thing you wot of.' He makes me no more ado, but whips me out of the chamber Sebastian is thy name? I like thee well, And will employ thee in some service presently Ay, sir; the other squirrel was stol'n from me by the hangman's boys in the market-place; and then I offer'd her mine own, who is a dog as big as ten of yours, and therefore the gift the greater Stayest thou to vex me here? Exit LAUNCE A slave that still an end turns me to shame! Sebastian, I have entertained thee Partly that I have need of such a youth That can with some discretion do my business, For 'tis no trusting to yond foolish lout, But chiefly for thy face and thy behaviour, Which, if my augury deceive me not, Witness good bringing up, fortune, and truth; Therefore, know thou, for this I entertain thee How many women would do such a message? Alas, poor Proteus, thou hast entertain'd A fox to be the shepherd of thy lambs About my stature; for at Pentecost, When all our pageants of delight were play'd, Our youth got me to play the woman's part, And I was trimm'd in Madam Julia's gown; Which served me as fit, by all men's judgments, As if the garment had been made for me; Therefore I know she is about my height I'll use thee kindly for thy mistress' sake, That us'd me so; or else, by Jove I vow, I should have scratch'd out your unseeing eyes, To make my master out of love with thee She will not fail, for lovers break not hours Unless it be to come before their time, So much they spur their expedition [Aside] 'Tis true, such pearls as put out ladies' eyes; For I had rather wink than look on them '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 These likelihoods confirm her flight from hence; Therefore, I pray you, stand not to discourse, But mount you presently, and meet with me Upon the rising of the mountain foot That leads toward Mantua, whither they are fled Go thou with her to the west end of the wood; There is our captain; we'll follow him that's fled Had I been seized by a hungry lion, I would have been a breakfast to the beast Rather than have false Proteus rescue me 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 Who should be trusted, when one's own right hand Is perjured to the bosom? Proteus, I am sorry I must never trust thee more, But count the world a stranger for thy sake It is the lesser blot, modesty finds, Women to change their shapes than men their minds Thurio, give back, or else embrace thy death; Come not within the measure of my wrath; Do not name Silvia thine; if once again, Verona shall not hold thee Here she stands Take but possession of her with a touch- I dare thee but to breathe upon my love 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 Thou hast prevail'd; I pardon them, and thee; Dispose of them as thou know'st their deserts That done, our day of marriage shall be yours; One feast, one house, one mutual happiness! Exeunt THE END I think this coming summer the King of Sicilia means to pay Bohemia the visitation which he justly owes him They were train'd together in their childhoods; and there rooted betwixt them then such an affection which cannot choose but branch now Since their more mature dignities and royal necessities made separation of their society, their encounters, though not personal, have been royally attorneyed with interchange of gifts, letters, loving embassies; that they have seem'd to be together, though absent; shook hands, as over a vast; and embrac'd as it were from the ends of opposed winds It is a gallant child; one that indeed physics the subject, makes old hearts fresh; they that went on crutches ere he was born desire yet their life to see him a man Tell him you are sure All in Bohemia's well- this satisfaction The by-gone day proclaim'd How say you? My prisoner or my guest? By your dread 'verily,' One of them you shall be This entertainment May a free face put on; derive a liberty From heartiness, from bounty, fertile bosom, And well become the agent 'T may, I grant; But to be paddling palms and pinching fingers, As now they are, and making practis'd smiles As in a looking-glass; and then to sigh, as 'twere The mort o' th' deer Sweet villain! Most dear'st! my collop! Can thy dam?- may't be? Affection! thy intention stabs the centre Nay, there's comfort in't, Whiles other men have gates and those gates open'd, As mine, against their will Should all despair That hath revolted wives, the tenth of mankind Would hang themselves Was this taken By any understanding pate but thine? For thy conceit is soaking, will draw in More than the common blocks In your affairs, my lord, If ever I were wilfull-negligent, It was my folly; if industriously I play'd the fool, it was my negligence, Not weighing well the end; if ever fearful To do a thing where I the issue doubted, Whereof the execution did cry out Against the non-performance, 'twas a fear Which oft infects the wisest I say thou liest, Camillo, and I hate thee; Pronounce thee a gross lout, a mindless slave, Or else a hovering temporizer that Canst with thine eyes at once see good and evil, Inclining to them both Were my wife's liver Infected as her life, she would not live The running of one glass 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 Your followers I will whisper to the business; And will, by twos and threes, at several posterns, Clear them o' th' city That false villain Whom I employ'd was pre-employ'd by him; He has discover'd my design, and I Remain a pinch'd thing; yea, a very trick For them to play at will Bear the boy hence; he shall not come about her; Away with him; and let her sport herself [MAMILLIUS is led out] With that she's big with- for 'tis Polixenes Has made thee swell thus 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 More, she's a traitor; and Camillo is A federary with her, and one that knows What she should shame to know herself But with her most vile principal- that she's A bed-swerver, even as bad as those That vulgars give bold'st titles; ay, and privy To this their late escape the eldest is eleven; The second and the third, nine and some five; If this prove true, they'll pay for 't 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 If it be so, We need no grave to bury honesty; There's not a grain of it the face to sweeten Of the whole dungy earth The office Becomes a woman best; I'll take't upon me; If I prove honey-mouth'd, let my tongue blister, And never to my red-look'd anger be The trumpet any more This child was prisoner to the womb, and is By law and process of great Nature thence Freed and enfranchis'd- not a party to The anger of the King, nor guilty of, If any be, the trespass of the Queen 'Tis such as you, That creep like shadows by him, and do sigh At each his needless heavings- such as you Nourish the cause of his awaking Good Queen, my lord, good Queen- I say good Queen; And would by combat make her good, so were I A man, the worst about you A callat Of boundless tongue, who late hath beat her husband, And now baits me! This brat is none of mine; It is the issue of Polixenes 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 Shall I live on to see this bastard kneel And call me father? Better burn it now Than curse it then 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 Twenty-three days They have been absent; 'tis good speed; foretells The great Apollo suddenly will have The truth of this appear The climate's delicate, the air most sweet, Fertile the isle, the temple much surpassing The common praise it bears I shall report, For most it caught me, the celestial habits- Methinks I so should term them- and the reverence Of the grave wearers If th' event o' th' journey Prove as successful to the Queen- O, be't so!- As it hath been to us rare, pleasant, speedy, The time is worth the use on't When the oracle- Thus by Apollo's great divine seal'd up- Shall the contents discover, something rare Even then will rush to knowledge Let us be clear'd Of being tyrannous, since we so openly Proceed in justice, which shall have due course, Even to the guilt or the purgation [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 here shall swear upon this sword of justice That you, Cleomenes and Dion, have Been both at Delphos, and from thence have brought This seal'd-up oracle, by the hand deliver'd Of great Apollo's priest; and that since then You have not dar'd to break the holy seal Nor read the secrets in't If you can bring Tincture or lustre in her lip, her eye, Heat outwardly or breath within, I'll serve you As I would do the gods Thou didst speak but well When most the truth; which I receive much better Than to be pitied of thee 'Good Antigonus, Since fate, against thy better disposition, Hath made thy person for the thrower-out Of my poor babe, according to thine oath, Places remote enough are in Bohemia, There weep, and leave it crying; and, for the babe Is counted lost for ever, Perdita I prithee call't I do believe Hermione hath suffer'd death, and that Apollo would, this being indeed the issue Of King Polixenes, it should here be laid, Either for life or death, upon the earth Of its right father I would there were no age between ten and three and twenty, or that youth would sleep out the rest; for there is nothing in the between but getting wenches with child, wronging the ancientry, stealing, fighting- [Horns] Hark you now! Would any but these boil'd brains of nineteen and two and twenty hunt this weather? They have scar'd away two of my best sheep, which I fear the wolf will sooner find than the master This has been some stair-work, some trunk-work, some behind-door-work; they were warmer that got this than the poor thing is here What, art so near? If thou'lt see a thing to talk on when thou art dead and rotten, come hither I would you did but see how it chafes, how it rages, how it takes up the shore! But that's not to the point And then for the land service- to see how the bear tore out his shoulder-bone; how he cried to me for help, and said his name was Antigonus, a nobleman! But to make an end of the ship- to see how the sea flap-dragon'd it; but first, how the poor souls roared, and the sea mock'd them; and how the poor gentleman roared, and the bear mock'd him, both roaring louder than the sea or weather I would you had been by the ship-side, to have help'd her; there your charity would have lack'd footing Here's a sight for thee; look thee, a bearing-cloth for a squire's child! Look thee here; take up, take up, boy; open't It is fifteen years since I saw my country; though I have for the most part been aired abroad, I desire to lay my bones there Besides, the penitent King, my master, hath sent for me; to whose feeling sorrows I might be some allay, or I o'erween to think so, which is another spur to my departure Say to me, when saw'st thou the Prince Florizel, my son? Kings are no less unhappy, their issue not being gracious, than they are in losing them when they have approved their virtues That's likewise part of my intelligence; but, I fear, the angle that plucks our son thither Thou shalt accompany us to the place; where we will, not appearing what we are, have some question with the shepherd; from whose simplicity I think it not uneasy to get the cause of my son's resort thither A road near the SHEPHERD'S cottage Enter AUTOLYCUS, singing When daffodils begin to peer, With heigh! the doxy over the dale, Why, then comes in the sweet o' the year, For the red blood reigns in the winter's pale The lark, that tirra-lirra chants, With heigh! with heigh! the thrush and the jay, Are summer songs for me and my aunts, While we lie tumbling in the hay But shall I go mourn for that, my dear? The pale moon shines by night; And when I wander here and there, I then do most go right 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 Gallows and knock are too powerful on the highway; beating and hanging are terrors to me; for the life to come, I sleep out the thought of it Alack, poor soul! thou hast need of more rags to lay on thee, rather than have these off I am robb'd, sir, and beaten; my money and apparel ta'en from me, and these detestable things put upon me I have a kinsman not past three quarters of a mile hence, unto whom I was going; I shall there have money or anything I want A fellow, sir, that I have known to go about with troll-my-dames; I knew him once a servant of the Prince I cannot tell, good sir, for which of his virtues it was, but he was certainly whipt out of the court This your sheep-shearing Is as a meeting of the petty gods, And you the Queen on't The gods themselves, Humbling their deities to love, have taken The shapes of beasts upon them O, but, sir, Your resolution cannot hold when 'tis Oppos'd, as it must be, by th' pow'r of the King Thou dearest Perdita, With these forc'd thoughts, I prithee, darken not The mirth o' th' feast Be merry, gentle; Strangle such thoughts as these with any thing That you behold the while Reverend sirs, For you there's rosemary and rue; these keep Seeming and savour all the winter long This is an art Which does mend nature- change it rather; but The art itself is nature O Proserpina, From the flowers now that, frighted, thou let'st fall From Dis's waggon!- daffodils, That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty; violets, dim But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes Or Cytherea's breath; pale primroses, That die unmarried ere they can behold Bright Phoebus in his strength- a malady Most incident to maids; bold oxlips, and The crown-imperial; lilies of all kinds, The flow'r-de-luce being one When you sing, I'd have you buy and sell so; so give alms; Pray so; and, for the ord'ring your affairs, To sing them too 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 But that your youth, And the true blood which peeps fairly through't, Do plainly give you out an unstain'd shepherd, With wisdom I might fear, my Doricles, You woo'd me the false way He says he loves my daughter; I think so too; for never gaz'd the moon Upon the water as he'll stand and read, As 'twere my daughter's eyes; and, to be plain, I think there is not half a kiss to choose Who loves another best 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 Is there no manners left among maids? Will they wear their plackets where they should bear their faces? Is there not milking-time, when you are going to bed, or kiln-hole, to whistle off these secrets, but you must be tittle-tattling before all our guests? 'Tis well they are whisp'ring We'll have this song out anon by ourselves; my father and the gentlemen are in sad talk, and we'll not trouble them Leave your prating; since these good men are pleas'd, let them come in; but quickly now I take thy hand- this hand, As soft as dove's down and as white as it, Or Ethiopian's tooth, or the fann'd snow that's bolted By th' northern blasts twice o'er What follows this? How prettily the young swain seems to wash The hand was fair before! I have put you out That, were I crown'd the most imperial monarch, Thereof most worthy, were I the fairest youth That ever made eye swerve, had force and knowledge More than was ever man's, I would not prize them Without her love; for her employ them all; Commend them and condemn them to her service Or to their own perdition One being dead, I shall have more than you can dream of yet; Enough then for your wonder Methinks a father Is at the nuptial of his son a guest That best becomes the table I yield all this; But, for some other reasons, my grave sir, Which 'tis not fit you know, I not acquaint My father of this business Thou churl, for this time, Though full of our displeasure, yet we free thee From the dead blow of it 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 What course I mean to hold Shall nothing benefit your knowledge, nor Concern me the reporting It is my father's music To speak your deeds; not little of his care To have them recompens'd as thought on How, Camillo, May this, almost a miracle, be done? That I may call thee something more than man, And after that trust to thee Yea, say you so? There shall not at your father's house these seven years Be born another such It shall be so my care To have you royally appointed as if The scene you play were mine My clown, who wants but something to be a reasonable man, grew so in love with the wenches' song that he would not stir his pettitoes till he had both tune and words, which so drew the rest of the herd to me that all their other senses stuck in ears So that in this time of lethargy I pick'd and cut most of their festival purses; and had not the old man come in with whoobub against his daughter and the King's son and scar'd my choughs from the chaff, I had not left a purse alive in the whole army How now, good fellow! Why shak'st thou so? Fear not, man; here's no harm intended to thee To have an open ear, a quick eye, and a nimble hand, is necessary for a cut-purse; a good nose is requisite also, to smell out work for th' other senses I will tell the King all, every word- yea, and his son's pranks too; who, I may say, is no honest man, neither to his father nor to me, to go about to make me the King's brother-in-law Let me have no lying; it becomes none but tradesmen, and they often give us soldiers the lie; but we pay them for it with stamped coin, not stabbing steel; therefore they do not give us the lie Your worship had like to have given us one, if you had not taken yourself with the manner 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 How blessed are we that are not simple men! Yet nature might have made me as these are, Therefore I will not disdain If that shepherd be not in hand-fast, let him fly; the curses he shall have, the tortures he shall feel, will break the back of man, the heart of monster 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 Close with him, give him gold; and though authority be a stubborn bear, yet he is oft led by the nose with gold Walk before toward the sea-side; go on the right-hand; I will but look upon the hedge, and follow you I am courted now with a double occasion- gold, and a means to do the Prince my master good; which who knows how that may turn back to my advancement? I will bring these two moles, these blind ones, aboard him Besides, the gods Will have fulfill'd their secret purposes; For has not the divine Apollo said, Is't not the tenour of his oracle, That King Leontes shall not have an heir Till his lost child be found? Which that it shall, Is all as monstrous to our human reason As my Antigonus to break his grave And come again to me; who, on my life, Did perish with the infant 'Tis your counsel My lord should to the heavens be contrary, Oppose against their wills Great Alexander Left his to th' worthiest; so his successor Was like to be the best O Hermione, As every present time doth boast itself Above a better gone, so must thy grave Give way to what's seen now! Sir, you yourself Have said and writ so, but your writing now Is colder than that theme 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 Had our prince, Jewel of children, seen this hour, he had pair'd Well with this lord; there was not full a month Between their births Re-enter CLEOMENES, with FLORIZEL, PERDITA, and ATTENDANTS They are come 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 O my brother- Good gentleman!- the wrongs I have done thee stir Afresh within me; and these thy offices, So rarely kind, are as interpreters Of my behind-hand slackness! Welcome hither, As is the spring to th' earth Most noble sir, That which I shall report will bear no credit, Were not the proof so nigh Camillo has betray'd me; Whose honour and whose honesty till now Endur'd all weathers We are not, sir, nor are we like to be; The stars, I see, will kiss the valleys first With thought of such affections, Step forth mine advocate; at your request My father will grant precious things as trifles I was by at the opening of the fardel, heard the old shepherd deliver the manner how he found it; whereupon, after a little amazedness, we were all commanded out of the chamber; only this, methought I heard the shepherd say he found the child A notable passion of wonder appeared in them; but the wisest beholder that knew no more but seeing could not say if th' importance were joy or sorrow- but in the extremity of the one it must needs be Enter another GENTLEMAN Here comes the Lady Paulina's steward; he can deliver you more How goes it now, sir? This news, which is call'd true, is so like an old tale that the verity of it is in strong suspicion The mantle of Queen Hermione's; her jewel about the neck of it; the letters of Antigonus found with it, which they know to be his character; the majesty of the creature in resemblance of the mother; the affection of nobleness which nature shows above her breeding; and many other evidences- proclaim her with all certainty to be the King's daughter There might you have beheld one joy crown another, so and in such manner that it seem'd sorrow wept to take leave of them; for their joy waded in tears 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 Now he thanks the old shepherd, which stands by like a weather-bitten conduit of many kings' reigns 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 I thought she had some great matter there in hand; for she hath privately twice or thrice a day, ever since the death of Hermione, visited that removed house But 'tis all one to me; for had I been the finder-out of this secret, it would not have relish'd among my other discredits Enter SHEPHERD and CLOWN Here come those I have done good to against my will, and already appearing in the blossoms of their fortune 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 I humbly beseech you, sir, to pardon me all the faults I have committed to your worship, and to give me your good report to the Prince my master Your gallery Have we pass'd through, not without much content In many singularities; but we saw not That which my daughter came to look upon, The statue of her mother And give me leave, And do not say 'tis superstition that I kneel, and then implore her blessing O sweet Paulina, Make me to think so twenty years together! No settled senses of the world can match The pleasure of that madness Then all stand still; Or those that think it is unlawful business I am about, let them depart You gods, look down, And from your sacred vials pour your graces Upon my daughter's head! Tell me, mine own, Where hast thou been preserv'd? Where liv'd? How found Thy father's court? For thou shalt hear that I, Knowing by Paulina that the oracle Gave hope thou wast in being, have preserv'd Myself to see the issue 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 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 These often bathed she in her fluxive eyes, And often kissed, and often 'gan to tear; Cried, 'O false blood, thou register of lies, What unapproved witness dost thou bear! Ink would have seemed more black and damned here! This said, in top of rage the lines she rents, Big discontents so breaking their contents 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 If that from him there may be aught applied Which may her suffering ecstasy assuage, 'Tis promised in the charity of age 'His browny locks did hang in crooked curls; And every light occasion of the wind Upon his lips their silken parcels hurls 'Small show of man was yet upon his chin; His phoenix down began but to appear, Like unshorn velvet, on that termless skin, Whose bare out-bragged the web it seemed to wear 'His qualities were beauteous as his form, For maiden-tongued he was, and thereof free; Yet if men moved him, was he such a storm As oft 'twixt May and April is to see, When winds breathe sweet, unruly though they be 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 'So many have, that never touched his hand, Sweetly supposed them mistress of his heart 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 '"All my offences that abroad you see Are errors of the blood, none of the mind; Love made them not; with acture they may be, Where neither party is nor true nor kind They sought their shame that so their shame did find; And so much less of shame in me remains By how much of me their reproach contains '"Lo, all these trophies of affections hot, Of pensived and subdued desires the tender, Nature hath charged me that I hoard them not, But yield them up where I myself must render- That is, to you, my origin and ender; For these, of force, must your oblations be, Since I their altar, you enpatron me '"O then advance of yours that phraseless hand Whose white weighs down the airy scale of praise; Take all these similes to your own command, Hallowed with sighs that burning lungs did raise; What me your minister for you obeys Works under you; and to your audit comes Their distract parcels in combined sums '"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 And sweetens, in the suff'ring pangs it bears, The aloes of all forces, shocks and fears O, how the channel to the stream gave grace! Who glazed with crystal gate the glowing roses That flame through water which their hue encloses '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 'Thus merely with the garment of a Grace The naked and concealed fiend he covered, That th' unexperient gave the tempter place, Which, like a cherubin, above them hovered Quotes for: Shakespeare Quotes
Source: Project Gutenburg Texts
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