MEASURE FOR MEASURE DRAMATIS PERSONAE VINCENTIO the Duke. (DUKE VINCENTIO:) ANGELO Deputy. ESCALUS an ancient Lord. CLAUDIO a young gentleman. LUCIO a fantastic. Two other gentlemen. (First Gentleman:) (Second Gentleman:) Provost. PETER (FRIAR PETER:) | | two friars. THOMAS (FRIAR THOMAS:) | A Justice. VARRIUS: ELBOW a simple constable. FROTH a foolish gentleman. POMPEY servant to Mistress Overdone. ABHORSON an executioner. BARNARDINE a dissolute prisoner. ISABELLA sister to Claudio. MARIANA betrothed to Angelo. JULIET beloved of Claudio. FRANCISCA a nun. MISTRESS OVERDONE a bawd. Lords, Officers, Citizens, Boy, and Attendant. (Servant:) (Messenger:) SCENE Vienna. MEASURE FOR MEASURE ACT I SCENE I An apartment in the DUKE'S palace. [Enter DUKE VINCENTIO, ESCALUS, Lords and Attendants] DUKE VINCENTIO Escalus. ESCALUS My lord. DUKE VINCENTIO Of government the properties to unfold, Would seem in me to 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. The nature of our people, Our city's institutions, and the terms For common justice, you're as pregnant in As art and practise hath enriched any That we remember. There is our commission, From which we would not have you warp. Call hither, I say, bid come before us Angelo. [Exit an Attendant] What figure of us think you he will bear? For you must know, we have with special soul Elected him our absence to supply, Lent him our terror, dress'd him with our love, And given his deputation all the organs Of our own power: what think you of it? ESCALUS If any in Vienna be of worth To undergo such ample grace and honour, It is Lord Angelo. DUKE VINCENTIO Look where he comes. [Enter ANGELO] ANGELO Always obedient to your grace's will, I come to know your pleasure. DUKE VINCENTIO Angelo, There is a kind of character in thy life, That to the observer doth thy history Fully unfold. 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. Spirits are not finely touch'd But to fine issues, nor Nature never lends The smallest scruple of her excellence But, like a thrifty goddess, she determines Herself the glory of a creditor, Both thanks and use. But I do bend my speech To one that can my part in him advertise; Hold therefore, Angelo:-- In our remove be thou at full ourself; Mortality and mercy in Vienna Live in thy tongue and heart: old Escalus, Though first in question, is thy secondary. Take thy commission. ANGELO Now, good my lord, Let there be some more test made of my metal, Before so noble and so great a figure Be stamp'd upon it. DUKE VINCENTIO No more evasion: We have with a leaven'd and prepared choice Proceeded to you; therefore take your honours. Our haste from hence is of so quick condition That it prefers itself and leaves unquestion'd Matters of needful value. We shall write to you, As time and our concernings shall importune, How it goes with us, and do look to know What doth befall you here. So, fare you well; To the hopeful execution do I leave you Of your commissions. ANGELO Yet give leave, my lord, That we may bring you something on the way. DUKE VINCENTIO My haste may not admit it; Nor need you, on mine honour, have to do With any scruple; your scope is as mine own So to enforce or qualify the laws As to your soul seems good. Give me your hand: I'll privily away. I love the people, But do not like to stage me to their eyes: Through it do well, I do not relish well Their loud applause and Aves vehement; Nor do I think the man of safe discretion That does affect it. Once more, fare you well. ANGELO The heavens give safety to your purposes! ESCALUS Lead forth and bring you back in happiness! DUKE I thank you. Fare you well. [Exit] ESCALUS 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: A power I have, but of what strength and nature I am not yet instructed. ANGELO 'Tis so with me. Let us withdraw together, And we may soon our satisfaction have Touching that point. ESCALUS I'll wait upon your honour. [Exeunt] MEASURE FOR MEASURE ACT I SCENE II A Street. [Enter LUCIO and two Gentlemen] LUCIO If the duke with the other dukes come not to composition with the King of Hungary, why then all the dukes fall upon the king. First Gentleman Heaven grant us its peace, but not the King of Hungary's! Second Gentleman Amen. LUCIO Thou concludest like the sanctimonious pirate, that went to sea with the Ten Commandments, but scraped one out of the table. Second Gentleman 'Thou shalt not steal'? LUCIO Ay, that he razed. First Gentleman Why, 'twas a commandment to command the captain and all the rest from their functions: they put forth to steal. There's not a soldier of us all, that, in the thanksgiving before meat, do relish the petition well that prays for peace. Second Gentleman I never heard any soldier dislike it. LUCIO I believe thee; for I think thou never wast where grace was said. Second Gentleman No? a dozen times at least. First Gentleman What, in metre? LUCIO In any proportion or in any language. First Gentleman I think, or in any religion. LUCIO Ay, why not? Grace is grace, despite of all controversy: as, for example, thou thyself art a wicked villain, despite of all grace. First Gentleman Well, there went but a pair of shears between us. LUCIO I grant; as there may between the lists and the velvet. Thou art the list. First Gentleman And thou the velvet: thou art good velvet; thou'rt a three-piled piece, I warrant thee: I had as lief be a list of an English kersey as be piled, as thou art piled, for a French velvet. Do I speak feelingly now? LUCIO I think thou dost; and, indeed, with most painful feeling of thy speech: I will, out of thine own confession, learn to begin thy health; but, whilst I live, forget to drink after thee. First Gentleman I think I have done myself wrong, have I not? Second Gentleman Yes, that thou hast, whether thou art tainted or free. LUCIO Behold, behold. where Madam Mitigation comes! I have purchased as many diseases under her roof as come to-- Second Gentleman To what, I pray? LUCIO Judge. Second Gentleman To three thousand dolours a year. First Gentleman Ay, and more. LUCIO A French crown more. First Gentleman Thou art always figuring diseases in me; but thou art full of error; I am sound. LUCIO Nay, not as one would say, healthy; but so sound as things that are hollow: thy bones are hollow; impiety has made a feast of thee. [Enter MISTRESS OVERDONE] First Gentleman How now! which of your hips has the most profound sciatica? MISTRESS OVERDONE Well, well; there's one yonder arrested and carried to prison was worth five thousand of you all. Second Gentleman Who's that, I pray thee? MISTRESS OVERDONE Marry, sir, that's Claudio, Signior Claudio. First Gentleman Claudio to prison? 'tis not so. MISTRESS OVERDONE Nay, but I know 'tis so: I saw him arrested, saw him carried away; and, which is more, within these three days his head to be chopped off. LUCIO But, after all this fooling, I would not have it so. Art thou sure of this? MISTRESS OVERDONE I am too sure of it: and it is for getting Madam Julietta with child. LUCIO Believe me, this may be: he promised to meet me two hours since, and he was ever precise in promise-keeping. Second Gentleman Besides, you know, it draws something near to the speech we had to such a purpose. First Gentleman But, most of all, agreeing with the proclamation. LUCIO Away! let's go learn the truth of it. [Exeunt LUCIO and Gentlemen] MISTRESS OVERDONE Thus, what with the war, what with the sweat, what with the gallows and what with poverty, I am custom-shrunk. [Enter POMPEY] How now! what's the news with you? POMPEY Yonder man is carried to prison. MISTRESS OVERDONE Well; what has he done? POMPEY A woman. MISTRESS OVERDONE But what's his offence? POMPEY Groping for trouts in a peculiar river. MISTRESS OVERDONE What, is there a maid with child by him? POMPEY No, but there's a woman with maid by him. You have not heard of the proclamation, have you? MISTRESS OVERDONE What proclamation, man? POMPEY All houses in the suburbs of Vienna must be plucked down. MISTRESS OVERDONE And what shall become of those in the city? POMPEY They shall stand for seed: they had gone down too, but that a wise burgher put in for them. MISTRESS OVERDONE But shall all our houses of resort in the suburbs be pulled down? POMPEY To the ground, mistress. MISTRESS OVERDONE Why, here's a change indeed in the commonwealth! What shall become of me? POMPEY Come; fear you not: good counsellors lack no clients: though you change your place, you need not change your trade; I'll be your tapster still. Courage! there will be pity taken on you: you that have worn your eyes almost out in the service, you will be considered. MISTRESS OVERDONE What's to do here, Thomas tapster? let's withdraw. POMPEY Here comes Signior Claudio, led by the provost to prison; and there's Madam Juliet. [Exeunt] [Enter Provost, CLAUDIO, JULIET, and Officers] CLAUDIO Fellow, why dost thou show me thus to the world? Bear me to prison, where I am committed. Provost I do it not in evil disposition, But from Lord Angelo by special charge. CLAUDIO Thus can the demigod Authority Make us pay down for our offence by weight The words of heaven; on whom it will, it will; On whom it will not, so; yet still 'tis just. [Re-enter LUCIO and two Gentlemen] LUCIO Why, how now, Claudio! whence comes this restraint? CLAUDIO From too much liberty, my Lucio, liberty: As surfeit is the father of much fast, So every scope by the immoderate use Turns to restraint. Our natures do pursue, Like rats that ravin down their proper bane, A thirsty evil; and when we drink we die. LUCIO If 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. What's thy offence, Claudio? CLAUDIO What but to speak of would offend again. LUCIO What, is't murder? CLAUDIO No. LUCIO Lechery? CLAUDIO Call it so. Provost Away, sir! you must go. CLAUDIO One word, good friend. Lucio, a word with you. LUCIO A hundred, if they'll do you any good. Is lechery so look'd after? CLAUDIO Thus stands it with me: upon a true contract I got possession of Julietta's bed: 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 dower Remaining in the coffer of her friends, From whom we thought it meet to hide our love Till time had made them for us. But it chances The stealth of our most mutual entertainment With character too gross is writ on Juliet. LUCIO With child, perhaps? CLAUDIO Unhappily, even so. And the new deputy now for the duke-- Whether it be the fault and glimpse of newness, Or whether that the body public be A horse whereon the governor doth ride, Who, newly in the seat, that it may know He can command, lets it straight feel the spur; Whether the tyranny be in his place, Or in his emmence that fills it up, I stagger in:--but this new governor Awakes me all the enrolled penalties Which have, like unscour'd armour, hung by the wall So long that nineteen zodiacs have gone round And none of them been worn; and, for a name, Now puts the drowsy and neglected act Freshly on me: 'tis surely for a name. LUCIO I warrant it is: and thy head stands so tickle on thy shoulders that a milkmaid, if she be in love, may sigh it off. Send after the duke and appeal to him. CLAUDIO I have done so, but he's not to be found. I prithee, Lucio, do me this kind service: 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: I have great hope in that; for in her youth There is a prone and speechless dialect, Such as move men; beside, she hath prosperous art When she will play with reason and discourse, And well she can persuade. LUCIO I pray she may; as well for the encouragement of the like, which else would stand under grievous imposition, as for the enjoying of thy life, who I would be sorry should be thus foolishly lost at a game of tick-tack. I'll to her. CLAUDIO I thank you, good friend Lucio. LUCIO Within two hours. CLAUDIO Come, officer, away! [Exeunt] MEASURE FOR MEASURE ACT I SCENE III A monastery. [Enter DUKE VINCENTIO and FRIAR THOMAS] DUKE VINCENTIO No, holy father; throw away that thought; Believe not that the dribbling dart of love Can pierce a complete bosom. Why I desire thee To give me secret harbour, hath a purpose More grave and wrinkled than the aims and ends Of burning youth. FRIAR THOMAS May your grace speak of it? DUKE VINCENTIO My holy sir, none better knows than you How I have ever loved the life removed And held in idle price to haunt assemblies Where youth, and cost, and witless bravery keeps. I have deliver'd to Lord Angelo, A man of stricture and firm abstinence, My absolute power and place here in Vienna, And he supposes me travell'd to Poland; For so I have strew'd it in the common ear, And so it is received. Now, pious sir, You will demand of me why I do this? FRIAR THOMAS Gladly, my lord. DUKE VINCENTIO We have strict statutes and most biting laws. The needful bits and curbs to headstrong weeds, Which for this nineteen years we have let slip; Even like an o'ergrown lion in a cave, That goes not out to prey. Now, as fond fathers, Having bound up the threatening twigs of birch, Only to stick it in their children's sight For terror, not to use, in time the rod Becomes more mock'd than fear'd; so our decrees, Dead to infliction, to themselves are dead; And liberty plucks justice by the nose; The baby beats the nurse, and quite athwart Goes all decorum. FRIAR THOMAS It rested in your grace To unloose this tied-up justice when you pleased: And it in you more dreadful would have seem'd Than in Lord Angelo. DUKE VINCENTIO I do fear, too dreadful: Sith 'twas my fault to give the people scope, 'Twould be my tyranny to strike and gall them For what I bid them do: for we bid this be done, When evil deeds have their permissive pass And not the punishment. Therefore indeed, my father, I have on Angelo imposed the office; Who may, in the ambush of my name, strike home, And yet my nature never in the fight To do in slander. And to behold his sway, I will, as 'twere a brother of your order, Visit both prince and people: therefore, I prithee, Supply me with the habit and instruct me How I may formally in person bear me Like a true friar. More reasons for this action At our more leisure shall I render you; Only, this one: Lord Angelo is precise; Stands at a guard with envy; scarce confesses That his blood flows, or that his appetite Is more to bread than stone: hence shall we see, If power change purpose, what our seemers be. [Exeunt] MEASURE FOR MEASURE ACT I SCENE IV A nunnery. [Enter ISABELLA and FRANCISCA] ISABELLA And have you nuns no farther privileges? FRANCISCA Are not these large enough? ISABELLA Yes, truly; I speak not as desiring more; But rather wishing a more strict restraint Upon the sisterhood, the votarists of Saint Clare. LUCIO [Within] Ho! Peace be in this place! ISABELLA Who's that which calls? FRANCISCA It is a man's voice. Gentle Isabella, Turn you the key, and know his business of him; You may, I may not; you are yet unsworn. When you have vow'd, you must not speak with men But in the presence of the prioress: Then, if you speak, you must not show your face, Or, if you show your face, you must not speak. He calls again; I pray you, answer him. [Exit] ISABELLA Peace and prosperity! Who is't that calls [Enter LUCIO] LUCIO Hail, virgin, if you be, as those cheek-roses Proclaim you are no less! Can you so stead me As bring me to the sight of Isabella, A novice of this place and the fair sister To her unhappy brother Claudio? ISABELLA Why 'her unhappy brother'? let me ask, The rather for I now must make you know I am that Isabella and his sister. LUCIO Gentle and fair, your brother kindly greets you: Not to be weary with you, he's in prison. ISABELLA Woe me! for what? LUCIO For that which, if myself might be his judge, He should receive his punishment in thanks: He hath got his friend with child. ISABELLA Sir, make me not your story. LUCIO It is true. I would not--though 'tis my familiar sin With maids to seem the lapwing and to jest, Tongue far from heart--play with all virgins so: I hold you as a thing ensky'd and sainted. By your renouncement an immortal spirit, And to be talk'd with in sincerity, As with a saint. ISABELLA You do blaspheme the good in mocking me. LUCIO Do not believe it. Fewness and truth, 'tis thus: Your brother and his lover have embraced: As those that feed grow full, as blossoming time That from the seedness the bare fallow brings To teeming foison, even so her plenteous womb Expresseth his full tilth and husbandry. ISABELLA Some one with child by him? My cousin Juliet? LUCIO Is she your cousin? ISABELLA Adoptedly; as school-maids change their names By vain though apt affection. LUCIO She it is. ISABELLA O, let him marry her. LUCIO This is the point. The duke is very strangely gone from hence; Bore many gentlemen, myself being one, In hand and hope of action: but we do learn By those that know the very nerves of state, His givings-out were of an infinite distance From his true-meant design. 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. He--to give fear to use and liberty, Which have for long run by the hideous law, As mice by lions--hath pick'd out an act, Under whose heavy sense your brother's life Falls into forfeit: he arrests him on it; And follows close the rigour of the statute, To make him an example. All hope is gone, Unless you have the grace by your fair prayer To soften Angelo: and that's my pith of business 'Twixt you and your poor brother. ISABELLA Doth he so seek his life? LUCIO Has censured him Already; and, as I hear, the provost hath A warrant for his execution. ISABELLA Alas! what poor ability's in me To do him good? LUCIO Assay the power you have. ISABELLA My power? Alas, I doubt-- LUCIO Our doubts are traitors And make us lose the good we oft might win By fearing to attempt. 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. ISABELLA I'll see what I can do. LUCIO But speedily. ISABELLA I will about it straight; No longer staying but to give the mother Notice of my affair. I humbly thank you: Commend me to my brother: soon at night I'll send him certain word of my success. LUCIO I take my leave of you. ISABELLA Good sir, adieu. [Exeunt] MEASURE FOR MEASURE ACT II SCENE I A hall In ANGELO's house. [Enter ANGELO, ESCALUS, and a Justice, Provost, Officers, and other Attendants, behind] ANGELO 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. ESCALUS Ay, but yet Let us be keen, and rather cut a little, Than fall, and bruise to death. Alas, this gentleman Whom I would save, had a most noble father! Let but your honour know, Whom I believe to be most strait in virtue, That, in the working of your own affections, Had time cohered with place or place with wishing, Or that the resolute acting of your blood Could have attain'd the 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. ANGELO 'Tis one thing to be tempted, Escalus, Another thing to fall. 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. What's open made to justice, That justice seizes: what know the laws That thieves do pass on thieves? 'Tis very pregnant, The jewel that we find, we stoop and take't Because we see it; but what we do not see We tread upon, and never think of it. You may not so extenuate his offence For I have had such faults; but rather tell me, When I, that censure him, do so offend, Let mine own judgment pattern out my death, And nothing come in partial. Sir, he must die. ESCALUS Be it as your wisdom will. ANGELO Where is the provost? Provost Here, if it like your honour. ANGELO See that Claudio Be executed by nine to-morrow morning: Bring him his confessor, let him be prepared; For that's the utmost of his pilgrimage. [Exit Provost] ESCALUS [Aside] Well, heaven forgive him! and forgive us all! Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall: Some run from brakes of ice, and answer none: And some condemned for a fault alone. [Enter ELBOW, and Officers with FROTH and POMPEY] ELBOW 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. ANGELO How now, sir! What's your name? and what's the matter? ELBOW If it Please your honour, I am the poor duke's constable, and my name is Elbow: I do lean upon justice, sir, and do bring in here before your good honour two notorious benefactors. ANGELO Benefactors? Well; what benefactors are they? are they not malefactors? ELBOW 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. ESCALUS This comes off well; here's a wise officer. ANGELO Go to: what quality are they of? Elbow is your name? why dost thou not speak, Elbow? POMPEY He cannot, sir; he's out at elbow. ANGELO What are you, sir? ELBOW He, sir! a tapster, sir; parcel-bawd; one that serves a bad woman; whose house, sir, was, as they say, plucked down in the suburbs; and now she professes a hot-house, which, I think, is a very ill house too. ESCALUS How know you that? ELBOW My wife, sir, whom I detest before heaven and your honour,-- ESCALUS How? thy wife? ELBOW Ay, sir; whom, I thank heaven, is an honest woman,-- ESCALUS Dost thou detest her therefore? ELBOW I say, sir, I will detest myself also, as well as she, that this house, if it be not a bawd's house, it is pity of her life, for it is a naughty house. ESCALUS How dost thou know that, constable? ELBOW Marry, sir, by my wife; who, if she had been a woman cardinally given, might have been accused in fornication, adultery, and all uncleanliness there. ESCALUS By the woman's means? ELBOW Ay, sir, by Mistress Overdone's means: but as she spit in his face, so she defied him. POMPEY Sir, if it please your honour, this is not so. ELBOW Prove it before these varlets here, thou honourable man; prove it. ESCALUS Do you hear how he misplaces? POMPEY Sir, she came in great with child; and longing, saving your honour's reverence, for stewed prunes; 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,-- ESCALUS Go to, go to: no matter for the dish, sir. POMPEY No, indeed, sir, not of a pin; you are therein in the right: but to the point. As I say, this Mistress Elbow, being, as I say, with child, and being great-bellied, and longing, as I said, for prunes; and having but two in the dish, as I said, Master Froth here, this very man, having eaten the rest, as I said, and, as I say, paying for them very honestly; for, as you know, Master Froth, I could not give you three-pence again. FROTH No, indeed. POMPEY Very well: you being then, if you be remembered, cracking the stones of the foresaid prunes,-- FROTH Ay, so I did indeed. POMPEY Why, very well; I telling you then, if you be remembered, that such a one and such a one were past cure of the thing you wot of, unless they kept very good diet, as I told you,-- FROTH All this is true. POMPEY Why, very well, then,-- ESCALUS Come, you are a tedious fool: to the purpose. What was done to Elbow's wife, that he hath cause to complain of? Come me to what was done to her. POMPEY Sir, your honour cannot come to that yet. ESCALUS No, sir, nor I mean it not. POMPEY Sir, but you shall come to it, by your honour's leave. And, I beseech you, look into Master Froth here, sir; a man of four-score pound a year; whose father died at Hallowmas: was't not at Hallowmas, Master Froth? FROTH All-hallond eve. POMPEY Why, very well; I hope here be truths. He, sir, sitting, as I say, in a lower chair, sir; 'twas in the Bunch of Grapes, where indeed you have a delight to sit, have you not? FROTH I have so; because it is an open room and good for winter. POMPEY Why, very well, then; I hope here be truths. ANGELO 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. ESCALUS I think no less. Good morrow to your lordship. [Exit ANGELO] Now, sir, come on: what was done to Elbow's wife, once more? POMPEY Once, sir? there was nothing done to her once. ELBOW I beseech you, sir, ask him what this man did to my wife. POMPEY I beseech your honour, ask me. ESCALUS Well, sir; what did this gentleman to her? POMPEY I beseech you, sir, look in this gentleman's face. Good Master Froth, look upon his honour; 'tis for a good purpose. Doth your honour mark his face? ESCALUS Ay, sir, very well. POMPEY Nay; I beseech you, mark it well. ESCALUS Well, I do so. POMPEY Doth your honour see any harm in his face? ESCALUS Why, no. POMPEY I'll be supposed upon a book, his face is the worst thing about him. Good, then; if his face be the worst thing about him, how could Master Froth do the constable's wife any harm? I would know that of your honour. ESCALUS He's in the right. Constable, what say you to it? ELBOW First, an it like you, the house is a respected house; next, this is a respected fellow; and his mistress is a respected woman. POMPEY By this hand, sir, his wife is a more respected person than any of us all. ELBOW Varlet, thou liest; thou liest, wicked varlet! the time has yet to come that she was ever respected with man, woman, or child. POMPEY Sir, she was respected with him before he married with her. ESCALUS Which is the wiser here? Justice or Iniquity? Is this true? ELBOW 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. Prove this, thou wicked Hannibal, or I'll have mine action of battery on thee. ESCALUS If he took you a box o' the ear, you might have your action of slander too. ELBOW Marry, I thank your good worship for it. What is't your worship's pleasure I shall do with this wicked caitiff? ESCALUS Truly, officer, because he hath some offences in him that thou wouldst discover if thou couldst, let him continue in his courses till thou knowest what they are. ELBOW Marry, I thank your worship for it. Thou seest, thou wicked varlet, now, what's come upon thee: thou art to continue now, thou varlet; thou art to continue. ESCALUS Where were you born, friend? FROTH Here in Vienna, sir. ESCALUS Are you of fourscore pounds a year? FROTH Yes, an't please you, sir. ESCALUS So. What trade are you of, sir? POMPHEY Tapster; a poor widow's tapster. ESCALUS Your mistress' name? POMPHEY Mistress Overdone. ESCALUS Hath she had any more than one husband? POMPEY Nine, sir; Overdone by the last. ESCALUS Nine! Come hither to me, Master Froth. Master Froth, I would not have you acquainted with tapsters: they will draw you, Master Froth, and you will hang them. Get you gone, and let me hear no more of you. FROTH I thank your worship. For mine own part, I never come into any room in a tap-house, but I am drawn in. ESCALUS Well, no more of it, Master Froth: farewell. [Exit FROTH] Come you hither to me, Master tapster. What's your name, Master tapster? POMPEY Pompey. ESCALUS What else? POMPEY Bum, sir. ESCALUS Troth, and your bum is the greatest thing about you; so that in the beastliest sense you are Pompey the Great. Pompey, you are partly a bawd, Pompey, howsoever you colour it in being a tapster, are you not? come, tell me true: it shall be the better for you. POMPEY Truly, sir, I am a poor fellow that would live. ESCALUS How would you live, Pompey? by being a bawd? What do you think of the trade, Pompey? is it a lawful trade? POMPEY If the law would allow it, sir. ESCALUS But the law will not allow it, Pompey; nor it shall not be allowed in Vienna. POMPEY Does your worship mean to geld and splay all the youth of the city? ESCALUS No, Pompey. POMPEY Truly, sir, in my poor opinion, they will to't then. If your worship will take order for the drabs and the knaves, you need not to fear the bawds. ESCALUS There are pretty orders beginning, I can tell you: it is but heading and hanging. POMPEY If you head and hang all that offend that way but for ten year together, you'll be glad to give out a commission for more heads: if this law hold in Vienna ten year, I'll rent the fairest house in it after three-pence a bay: if you live to see this come to pass, say Pompey told you so. ESCALUS Thank you, good Pompey; and, in requital of your prophecy, hark you: I advise you, let me not find you before me again upon any complaint whatsoever; no, not for dwelling where you do: if I do, Pompey, I shall beat you to your tent, and prove a shrewd Caesar to you; in plain dealing, Pompey, I shall have you whipt: so, for this time, Pompey, fare you well. POMPEY 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 is not whipt out of his trade. [Exit] ESCALUS Come hither to me, Master Elbow; come hither, Master constable. How long have you been in this place of constable? ELBOW Seven year and a half, sir. ESCALUS I thought, by your readiness in the office, you had continued in it some time. You say, seven years together? ELBOW And a half, sir. ESCALUS Alas, it hath been great pains to you. They do you wrong to put you so oft upon 't: are there not men in your ward sufficient to serve it? ELBOW Faith, sir, few of any wit in such matters: as they are chosen, they are glad to choose me for them; I do it for some piece of money, and go through with all. ESCALUS Look you bring me in the names of some six or seven, the most sufficient of your parish. ELBOW To your worship's house, sir? ESCALUS To my house. Fare you well. [Exit ELBOW] What's o'clock, think you? Justice Eleven, sir. ESCALUS I pray you home to dinner with me. Justice I humbly thank you. ESCALUS It grieves me for the death of Claudio; But there's no remedy. Justice Lord Angelo is severe. ESCALUS It is but needful: Mercy is not itself, that oft looks so; Pardon is still the nurse of second woe: But yet,--poor Claudio! There is no remedy. Come, sir. [Exeunt] MEASURE FOR MEASURE ACT II SCENE II Another room in the same. [Enter Provost and a Servant] Servant He's hearing of a cause; he will come straight I'll tell him of you. Provost Pray you, do. [Exit Servant] I'll know His pleasure; may be he will relent. Alas, He hath but as offended in a dream! All sects, all ages smack of this vice; and he To die for't! [Enter ANGELO] ANGELO Now, what's the matter. Provost? Provost Is it your will Claudio shall die tomorrow? ANGELO Did not I tell thee yea? hadst thou not order? Why dost thou ask again? Provost Lest I might be too rash: Under your good correction, I have seen, When, after execution, judgment hath Repented o'er his doom. ANGELO Go to; let that be mine: Do you your office, or give up your place, And you shall well be spared. Provost I crave your honour's pardon. What shall be done, sir, with the groaning Juliet? She's very near her hour. ANGELO Dispose of her To some more fitter place, and that with speed. [Re-enter Servant] Servant Here is the sister of the man condemn'd Desires access to you. ANGELO Hath he a sister? Provost Ay, my good lord; a very virtuous maid, And to be shortly of a sisterhood, If not already. ANGELO Well, let her be admitted. [Exit Servant] See you the fornicatress be removed: Let have needful, but not lavish, means; There shall be order for't. [Enter ISABELLA and LUCIO] Provost God save your honour! ANGELO Stay a little while. [To ISABELLA] You're welcome: what's your will? ISABELLA I am a woeful suitor to your honour, Please but your honour hear me. ANGELO Well; what's your suit? ISABELLA There is a vice that most I do abhor, And most desire should meet the blow of justice; For which I would not plead, but that I must; For which I must not plead, but that I am At war 'twixt will and will not. ANGELO Well; the matter? ISABELLA I have a brother is condemn'd to die: I do beseech you, let it be his fault, And not my brother. Provost [Aside] Heaven give thee moving graces! ANGELO 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. ISABELLA O just but severe law! I had a brother, then. Heaven keep your honour! LUCIO [Aside to ISABELLA] Give't not o'er so: to him again, entreat him; Kneel down before him, hang upon his gown: You are too cold; if you should need a pin, You could not with more tame a tongue desire it: To him, I say! ISABELLA Must he needs die? ANGELO Maiden, no remedy. ISABELLA Yes; I do think that you might pardon him, And neither heaven nor man grieve at the mercy. ANGELO I will not do't. ISABELLA But can you, if you would? ANGELO Look, what I will not, that I cannot do. ISABELLA But might you do't, and do the world no wrong, If so your heart were touch'd with that remorse As mine is to him? ANGELO He's sentenced; 'tis too late. LUCIO [Aside to ISABELLA] You are too cold. ISABELLA Too late? why, no; I, that do speak a word. May call it back again. Well, believe this, No ceremony that to great ones 'longs, Not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword, The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe, Become them with one half so good a grace As mercy does. If he had been as you and you as he, You would have slipt like him; but he, like you, Would not have been so stern. ANGELO Pray you, be gone. ISABELLA I would to heaven I had your potency, And you were Isabel! should it then be thus? No; I would tell what 'twere to be a judge, And what a prisoner. LUCIO [Aside to ISABELLA] Ay, touch him; there's the vein. ANGELO Your brother is a forfeit of the law, And you but waste your words. ISABELLA Alas, alas! Why, all the souls that were were forfeit once; And He that might the vantage best have took Found out the remedy. How would you be, If He, which is the top of judgment, should But judge you as you are? O, think on that; And mercy then will breathe within your lips, Like man new made. ANGELO Be you content, fair maid; It is the law, not I condemn your brother: Were he my kinsman, brother, or my son, It should be thus with him: he must die tomorrow. ISABELLA To-morrow! O, that's sudden! Spare him, spare him! He's not prepared for death. Even for our kitchens We kill the fowl of season: shall we serve heaven With less respect than we do minister To our gross selves? Good, good my lord, bethink you; Who is it that hath died for this offence? There's many have committed it. LUCIO [Aside to ISABELLA] Ay, well said. ANGELO The law hath not been dead, though it hath slept: Those many had not dared to do that evil, If the first that did the edict infringe Had answer'd for his deed: now 'tis awake Takes note of what is done; and, like a prophet, Looks in a glass, that shows what future evils, Either new, or by remissness new-conceived, And so in progress to be hatch'd and born, Are now to have no successive degrees, But, ere they live, to end. ISABELLA Yet show some pity. ANGELO 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. Be satisfied; Your brother dies to-morrow; be content. ISABELLA So you must be the first that gives this sentence, And he, that suffer's. O, it is excellent To have a giant's strength; but it is tyrannous To use it like a giant. LUCIO [Aside to ISABELLA] That's well said. ISABELLA Could great men thunder As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet, For every pelting, petty officer Would use his heaven for thunder; Nothing but thunder! Merciful Heaven, Thou rather with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt Split'st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak Than the soft myrtle: but man, proud man, Drest in a little brief authority, Most ignorant of what he's most assured, His glassy essence, like an angry ape, Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven As make the angels weep; who, with our spleens, Would all themselves laugh mortal. LUCIO [Aside to ISABELLA] O, to him, to him, wench! he will relent; He's coming; I perceive 't. Provost [Aside] Pray heaven she win him! ISABELLA We cannot weigh our brother with ourself: Great men may jest with saints; 'tis wit in them, But in the less foul profanation. LUCIO Thou'rt i' the right, girl; more o, that. ISABELLA That in the captain's but a choleric word, Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy. LUCIO [Aside to ISABELLA] Art avised o' that? more on 't. ANGELO Why do you put these sayings upon me? ISABELLA Because authority, though it err like others, Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself, That skins the vice o' the 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. ANGELO [Aside] She speaks, and 'tis Such sense, that my sense breeds with it. Fare you well. ISABELLA Gentle my lord, turn back. ANGELO I will bethink me: come again tomorrow. ISABELLA Hark how I'll bribe you: good my lord, turn back. ANGELO How! bribe me? ISABELLA Ay, with such gifts that heaven shall share with you. LUCIO [Aside to ISABELLA] You had marr'd all else. ISABELLA Not with fond shekels of the tested gold, Or stones whose rates are either rich or poor As fancy values them; but with true prayers That shall be up at heaven and enter there Ere sun-rise, prayers from preserved souls, From fasting maids whose minds are dedicate To nothing temporal. ANGELO Well; come to me to-morrow. LUCIO [Aside to ISABELLA] Go to; 'tis well; away! ISABELLA Heaven keep your honour safe! ANGELO [Aside] Amen: For I am that way going to temptation, Where prayers cross. ISABELLA At what hour to-morrow Shall I attend your lordship? ANGELO At any time 'fore noon. ISABELLA 'Save your honour! [Exeunt ISABELLA, LUCIO, and Provost] ANGELO From thee, even from thy virtue! What's this, what's this? Is this her fault or mine? The tempter or the tempted, who sins most? Ha! Not she: nor doth she tempt: but it is I That, lying by the violet in the sun, Do as the carrion does, not as the flower, Corrupt with virtuous season. 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. What, do I love her, That I desire to hear her speak again, And feast upon her eyes? What is't I dream on? O cunning enemy, that, to catch a saint, With saints dost bait thy hook! Most dangerous Is that temptation that doth goad us on To sin in loving virtue: never could the strumpet, With all her double vigour, art and nature, Once stir my temper; but this virtuous maid Subdues me quite. Even till now, When men were fond, I smiled and wonder'd how. [Exit] MEASURE FOR MEASURE ACT II SCENE III A room in a prison. [Enter, severally, DUKE VINCENTIO disguised as a friar, and Provost] DUKE VINCENTIO Hail to you, provost! so I think you are. Provost I am the provost. What's your will, good friar? DUKE VINCENTIO 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. Provost I would do more than that, if more were needful. [Enter JULIET] Look, here comes one: a gentlewoman of mine, Who, falling in the flaws of her own youth, Hath blister'd her report: she is with child; And he that got it, sentenced; a young man More fit to do another such offence Than die for this. DUKE VINCENTIO When must he die? Provost As I do think, to-morrow. I have provided for you: stay awhile, [To JULIET] And you shall be conducted. DUKE VINCENTIO Repent you, fair one, of the sin you carry? JULIET I do; and bear the shame most patiently. DUKE VINCENTIO I'll teach you how you shall arraign your conscience, And try your penitence, if it be sound, Or hollowly put on. JULIET I'll gladly learn. DUKE VINCENTIO Love you the man that wrong'd you? JULIET Yes, as I love the woman that wrong'd him. DUKE VINCENTIO So then it seems your most offenceful act Was mutually committed? JULIET Mutually. DUKE VINCENTIO Then was your sin of heavier kind than his. JULIET I do confess it, and repent it, father. DUKE VINCENTIO 'Tis meet so, daughter: but lest you do repent, As that the sin hath brought you to this shame, Which sorrow is always towards ourselves, not heaven, Showing we would not spare heaven as we love it, But as we stand in fear,-- JULIET I do repent me, as it is an evil, And take the shame with joy. DUKE VINCENTIO There rest. Your partner, as I hear, must die to-morrow, And I am going with instruction to him. Grace go with you, Benedicite! [Exit] JULIET Must die to-morrow! O injurious love, That respites me a life, whose very comfort Is still a dying horror! Provost 'Tis pity of him. [Exeunt] MEASURE FOR MEASURE ACT II SCENE IV A room in ANGELO's house. [Enter ANGELO] ANGELO When I would pray and think, I think and pray To several subjects. Heaven hath my empty words; Whilst my invention, hearing not my tongue, Anchors on Isabel: Heaven in my mouth, As if I did but only chew his name; And in my heart the strong and swelling evil Of my conception. The state, whereon I studied Is like a good thing, being often read, Grown fear'd 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. O place, O form, How often dost thou with thy case, thy habit, Wrench awe from fools and tie the wiser souls To thy false seeming! Blood, thou art blood: Let's write good angel on the devil's horn: 'Tis not the devil's crest. [Enter a Servant] How now! who's there? Servant One Isabel, a sister, desires access to you. ANGELO Teach her the way. [Exit Servant] O heavens! Why does my blood thus muster to my heart, Making both it unable for itself, And dispossessing all my other parts Of necessary fitness? So play the foolish throngs with one that swoons; Come all to help him, and so stop the air By which he should revive: and even so The general, subject to a well-wish'd king, Quit their own part, and in obsequious fondness Crowd to his presence, where their untaught love Must needs appear offence. [Enter ISABELLA] How now, fair maid? ISABELLA I am come to know your pleasure. ANGELO That you might know it, would much better please me Than to demand what 'tis. Your brother cannot live. ISABELLA Even so. Heaven keep your honour! ANGELO Yet may he live awhile; and, it may be, As long as you or I yet he must die. ISABELLA Under your sentence? ANGELO Yea. ISABELLA When, I beseech you? that in his reprieve, Longer or shorter, he may be so fitted That his soul sicken not. ANGELO Ha! fie, these filthy vices! It were as good To pardon him that hath from nature stolen A man already made, as to remit Their saucy sweetness that do coin heaven's image In stamps that are forbid: 'tis all as easy Falsely to take away a life true made As to put metal in restrained means To make a false one. ISABELLA 'Tis set down so in heaven, but not in earth. ANGELO Say you so? then I shall pose you quickly. Which had you rather, that the most just law Now took your brother's life; or, to redeem him, Give up your body to such sweet uncleanness As she that he hath stain'd? ISABELLA Sir, believe this, I had rather give my body than my soul. ANGELO I talk not of your soul: our compell'd sins Stand more for number than for accompt. ISABELLA How say you? ANGELO Nay, I'll not warrant that; for I can speak Against the thing I say. Answer to this: I, now the voice of the recorded law, Pronounce a sentence on your brother's life: Might there not be a charity in sin To save this brother's life? ISABELLA Please you to do't, I'll take it as a peril to my soul, It is no sin at all, but charity. ANGELO Pleased you to do't at peril of your soul, Were equal poise of sin and charity. ISABELLA That I do beg his life, if it be sin, Heaven let me bear it! you granting of my suit, If that be sin, I'll make it my morn prayer To have it added to the faults of mine, And nothing of your answer. ANGELO Nay, but hear me. Your sense pursues not mine: either you are ignorant, Or seem so craftily; and that's not good. ISABELLA Let me be ignorant, and in nothing good, But graciously to know I am no better. ANGELO Thus wisdom wishes to appear most bright When it doth tax itself; as these black masks Proclaim an enshield beauty ten times louder Than beauty could, display'd. But mark me; To be received plain, I'll speak more gross: Your brother is to die. ISABELLA So. ANGELO And his offence is so, as it appears, Accountant to the law upon that pain. ISABELLA True. ANGELO Admit no other way to save his life,-- As I subscribe not that, nor any other, But in the loss of question,--that you, his sister, Finding yourself desired of such a person, Whose credit with the judge, or own great place, Could fetch your brother from the manacles Of the all-building law; and that there were No earthly mean to save him, but that either You must lay down the treasures of your body To this supposed, or else to let him suffer; What would you do? ISABELLA As much for my poor brother as myself: That is, were I under the terms of death, The impression of keen whips I'ld wear as rubies, And strip myself to death, as to a bed That longing have been sick for, ere I'ld yield My body up to shame. ANGELO Then must your brother die. ISABELLA And 'twere the cheaper way: Better it were a brother died at once, Than that a sister, by redeeming him, Should die for ever. ANGELO Were not you then as cruel as the sentence That you have slander'd so? ISABELLA Ignomy in ransom and free pardon Are of two houses: lawful mercy Is nothing kin to foul redemption. ANGELO You seem'd of late to make the law a tyrant; And rather proved the sliding of your brother A merriment than a vice. ISABELLA O, pardon me, my lord; it oft falls out, To have what we would have, we speak not what we mean: I something do excuse the thing I hate, For his advantage that I dearly love. ANGELO We are all frail. ISABELLA Else let my brother die, If not a feodary, but only he Owe and succeed thy weakness. ANGELO Nay, women are frail too. ISABELLA Ay, as the glasses where they view themselves; Which are as easy broke as they make forms. Women! Help Heaven! men their creation mar In profiting by them. Nay, call us ten times frail; For we are soft as our complexions are, And credulous to false prints. ANGELO I think it well: And from this testimony of your own sex,-- Since I suppose we are made to be no stronger Than faults may shake our frames,--let me be bold; I do arrest your words. 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 destined livery. ISABELLA I have no tongue but one: gentle my lord, Let me entreat you speak the former language. ANGELO Plainly conceive, I love you. ISABELLA My brother did love Juliet, And you tell me that he shall die for it. ANGELO He shall not, Isabel, if you give me love. ISABELLA I know your virtue hath a licence in't, Which seems a little fouler than it is, To pluck on others. ANGELO Believe me, on mine honour, My words express my purpose. ISABELLA Ha! little honour to be much believed, And most pernicious purpose! Seeming, seeming! I will proclaim thee, Angelo; look for't: Sign me a present pardon for my brother, Or with an outstretch'd throat I'll tell the world aloud What man thou art. ANGELO Who will believe thee, Isabel? My unsoil'd name, the austereness of my life, My vouch against you, and my place i' the state, Will so your accusation overweigh, That you shall stifle in your own report And smell of calumny. I have begun, And now I give my sensual race the rein: Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite; Lay by all nicety and prolixious blushes, That banish what they sue for; redeem thy brother By yielding up thy body to my will; Or else he must not only die the death, But thy unkindness shall his death draw out To lingering sufferance. Answer me to-morrow, Or, by the affection that now guides me most, I'll prove a tyrant to him. As for you, Say what you can, my false o'erweighs your true. [Exit] ISABELLA 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 court'sy to their will: Hooking both right and wrong to the appetite, To follow as it draws! I'll to my brother: Though he hath fallen by prompture of the blood, Yet hath he in him such a mind of honour. That, had he twenty heads to tender down On twenty bloody blocks, he'ld yield them up, Before his sister should her body stoop To such abhorr'd pollution. Then, Isabel, live chaste, and, brother, die: More than our brother is our chastity. I'll tell him yet of Angelo's request, And fit his mind to death, for his soul's rest. [Exit] MEASURE FOR MEASURE ACT III SCENE I A room in the prison. [Enter DUKE VINCENTIO disguised as before, CLAUDIO, and Provost] DUKE VINCENTIO So then you hope of pardon from Lord Angelo? CLAUDIO The miserable have no other medicine But only hope: I've hope to live, and am prepared to die. DUKE VINCENTIO Be absolute for death; either death or life Shall thereby be the sweeter. Reason thus with life: If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing That none but fools would keep: a breath thou art, Servile to all the skyey influences, That dost this habitation, where thou keep'st, Hourly afflict: merely, thou art death's fool; For him thou labour'st by thy flight to shun And yet runn'st toward him still. Thou art not noble; For all the accommodations that thou bear'st Are nursed by baseness. Thou'rt by no means valiant; For thou dost fear the soft and tender fork Of a poor worm. Thy best of rest is sleep, And that thou oft provokest; yet grossly fear'st Thy death, which is no more. Thou art not thyself; For thou exist'st on many a thousand grains That issue out of dust. Happy thou art not; For what thou hast not, still thou strivest to get, And what thou hast, forget'st. 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's 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. Thou hast nor youth nor age, But, as it were, an after-dinner's sleep, Dreaming on both; for all thy blessed youth Becomes as aged, and doth beg the alms Of palsied eld; and when thou art old and rich, Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor beauty, To make thy riches pleasant. 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. CLAUDIO I humbly thank you. To sue to live, I find I seek to die; And, seeking death, find life: let it come on. ISABELLA [Within] What, ho! Peace here; grace and good company! Provost Who's there? come in: the wish deserves a welcome. DUKE VINCENTIO Dear sir, ere long I'll visit you again. CLAUDIO Most holy sir, I thank you. [Enter ISABELLA] ISABELLA My business is a word or two with Claudio. Provost And very welcome. Look, signior, here's your sister. DUKE VINCENTIO Provost, a word with you. Provost As many as you please. DUKE VINCENTIO Bring me to hear them speak, where I may be concealed. [Exeunt DUKE VINCENTIO and Provost] CLAUDIO Now, sister, what's the comfort? ISABELLA Why, As all comforts are; most good, most good indeed. Lord Angelo, having affairs to heaven, Intends you for his swift ambassador, Where you shall be an everlasting leiger: Therefore your best appointment make with speed; To-morrow you set on. CLAUDIO Is there no remedy? ISABELLA None, but such remedy as, to save a head, To cleave a heart in twain. CLAUDIO But is there any? ISABELLA Yes, brother, you may live: There is a devilish mercy in the judge, If you'll implore it, that will free your life, But fetter you till death. CLAUDIO Perpetual durance? ISABELLA Ay, just; perpetual durance, a restraint, Though all the world's vastidity you had, To a determined scope. CLAUDIO But in what nature? ISABELLA In such a one as, you consenting to't, Would bark your honour from that trunk you bear, And leave you naked. CLAUDIO Let me know the point. ISABELLA O, I do fear thee, Claudio; and I quake, Lest thou a feverous life shouldst entertain, And six or seven winters more respect Than a perpetual honour. Darest thou die? The sense of death is most in apprehension; And the poor beetle, that we tread upon, In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great As when a giant dies. CLAUDIO Why give you me this shame? Think you I can a resolution fetch From flowery tenderness? If I must die, I will encounter darkness as a bride, And hug it in mine arms. ISABELLA There spake my brother; there my father's grave Did utter forth a voice. Yes, thou must die: Thou art too noble to conserve a life In base appliances. This outward-sainted deputy, Whose settled visage and deliberate word Nips youth i' the head and follies doth emmew As falcon doth the fowl, is yet a devil His filth within being cast, he would appear A pond as deep as hell. CLAUDIO The prenzie Angelo! ISABELLA O, 'tis the cunning livery of hell, The damned'st body to invest and cover In prenzie guards! Dost thou think, Claudio? If I would yield him my virginity, Thou mightst be freed. CLAUDIO O heavens! it cannot be. ISABELLA Yes, he would give't thee, from this rank offence, So to offend him still. This night's the time That I should do what I abhor to name, Or else thou diest to-morrow. CLAUDIO Thou shalt not do't. ISABELLA O, were it but my life, I'ld throw it down for your deliverance As frankly as a pin. CLAUDIO Thanks, dear Isabel. ISABELLA Be ready, Claudio, for your death tomorrow. CLAUDIO Yes. Has he affections in him, That thus can make him bite the law by the nose, When he would force it? Sure, it is no sin, Or of the deadly seven, it is the least. ISABELLA Which is the least? CLAUDIO If it were damnable, he being so wise, Why would he for the momentary trick Be perdurably fined? O Isabel! ISABELLA What says my brother? CLAUDIO Death is a fearful thing. ISABELLA And shamed life a hateful. CLAUDIO Ay, but to die, and go we know not where; To lie in cold obstruction and to rot; This sensible warm motion to become A kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside In thrilling region of thick-ribbed ice; To be imprison'd in the viewless winds, And blown with restless violence round about The pendent world; or to be worse than worst Of those that lawless and incertain thought Imagine howling: 'tis too horrible! The weariest and most loathed worldly life That age, ache, penury and imprisonment Can lay on nature is a paradise To what we fear of death. ISABELLA Alas, alas! CLAUDIO Sweet sister, let me live: What sin you do to save a brother's life, Nature dispenses with the deed so far That it becomes a virtue. ISABELLA O you beast! O faithless coward! O dishonest wretch! Wilt thou be made a man out of my vice? Is't not a kind of incest, to take life From thine own sister's shame? What should I think? Heaven shield my mother play'd my father fair! For such a warped slip of wilderness Ne'er issued from his blood. Take my defiance! Die, perish! Might but my bending down Reprieve thee from thy fate, it should proceed: I'll pray a thousand prayers for thy death, No word to save thee. CLAUDIO Nay, hear me, Isabel. ISABELLA O, fie, fie, fie! Thy sin's not accidental, but a trade. Mercy to thee would prove itself a bawd: 'Tis best thou diest quickly. CLAUDIO O hear me, Isabella! [Re-enter DUKE VINCENTIO] DUKE VINCENTIO Vouchsafe a word, young sister, but one word. ISABELLA What is your will? DUKE VINCENTIO Might you dispense with your leisure, I would by and by have some speech with you: the satisfaction I would require is likewise your own benefit. ISABELLA I have no superfluous leisure; my stay must be stolen out of other affairs; but I will attend you awhile. [Walks apart] DUKE VINCENTIO Son, I have overheard what hath passed between you and your sister. Angelo had never the purpose to corrupt her; only he hath made an essay of her virtue to practise his judgment with the disposition of natures: she, having the truth of honour in her, hath made him that gracious denial which he is most glad to receive. I am confessor to Angelo, and I know this to be true; therefore prepare yourself to death: do not satisfy your resolution with hopes that are fallible: tomorrow you must die; go to your knees and make ready. CLAUDIO Let me ask my sister pardon. I am so out of love with life that I will sue to be rid of it. DUKE VINCENTIO Hold you there: farewell. [Exit CLAUDIO] Provost, a word with you! [Re-enter Provost] Provost What's your will, father DUKE VINCENTIO That now you are come, you will be gone. Leave me awhile with the maid: my mind promises with my habit no loss shall touch her by my company. Provost In good time. [Exit Provost. ISABELLA comes forward] DUKE VINCENTIO The hand that hath made you fair hath made you good: the goodness that is cheap in beauty makes beauty brief in goodness; but grace, being the soul of your complexion, shall keep the body of it ever fair. The assault that Angelo hath made to you, fortune hath conveyed to my understanding; and, but that frailty hath examples for his falling, I should wonder at Angelo. How will you do to content this substitute, and to save your brother? ISABELLA I am now going to resolve him: I had rather my brother die by the law than my son should be unlawfully born. But, O, how much is the good duke deceived in Angelo! If ever he return and I can speak to him, I will open my lips in vain, or discover his government. DUKE VINCENTIO That shall not be much amiss: Yet, as the matter now stands, he will avoid your accusation; he made trial of you only. Therefore fasten your ear on my advisings: to the love I have in doing good a remedy presents itself. I do make myself believe that you may most uprighteously do a poor wronged lady a merited benefit; redeem your brother from the angry law; do no stain to your own gracious person; and much please the absent duke, if peradventure he shall ever return to have hearing of this business. ISABELLA Let me hear you speak farther. I have spirit to do anything that appears not foul in the truth of my spirit. DUKE VINCENTIO Virtue is bold, and goodness never fearful. Have you not heard speak of Mariana, the sister of Frederick the great soldier who miscarried at sea? ISABELLA I have heard of the lady, and good words went with her name. DUKE VINCENTIO She should this Angelo have married; was affianced to her by oath, and the nuptial appointed: between which time of the contract and limit of the solemnity, her brother Frederick was wrecked at sea, having in that perished vessel the dowry of his sister. But mark how heavily this befell to the poor gentlewoman: there she lost a noble and renowned brother, in his love toward her ever most kind and natural; with him, the portion and sinew of her fortune, her marriage-dowry; with both, her combinate husband, this well-seeming Angelo. ISABELLA Can this be so? did Angelo so leave her? DUKE VINCENTIO 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, bestowed 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. ISABELLA What a merit were it in death to take this poor maid from the world! What corruption in this life, that it will let this man live! But how out of this can she avail? DUKE VINCENTIO It is a rupture that you may easily heal: and the cure of it not only saves your brother, but keeps you from dishonour in doing it. ISABELLA Show me how, good father. DUKE VINCENTIO This forenamed maid hath yet in her the continuance of her first affection: his unjust unkindness, that in all reason should have quenched her love, hath, like an impediment in the current, made it more violent and unruly. 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. This being granted in course,--and now follows all,--we shall advise this wronged maid to stead up your appointment, go in your place; 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. The maid will I frame and make fit for his attempt. If you think well to carry this as you may, the doubleness of the benefit defends the deceit from reproof. What think you of it? ISABELLA The image of it gives me content already; and I trust it will grow to a most prosperous perfection. DUKE VINCENTIO It lies much in your holding up. Haste you speedily to Angelo: if for this night he entreat you to his bed, give him promise of satisfaction. I will presently to Saint Luke's: there, at the moated grange, resides this dejected Mariana. At that place call upon me; and dispatch with Angelo, that it may be quickly. ISABELLA I thank you for this comfort. Fare you well, good father. [Exeunt severally] MEASURE FOR MEASURE ACT III SCENE II The street before the prison. [Enter, on one side, DUKE VINCENTIO disguised as before; on the other, ELBOW, and Officers with POMPEY] ELBOW Nay, if there be no remedy for it, but that you will needs buy and sell men and women like beasts, we shall have all the world drink brown and white bastard. DUKE VINCENTIO O heavens! what stuff is here POMPEY 'Twas never merry world since, of two usuries, the merriest was put down, and the worser allowed by order of law a furred gown to keep him warm; and furred with fox and lamb-skins too, to signify, that craft, being richer than innocency, stands for the facing. ELBOW Come your way, sir. 'Bless you, good father friar. DUKE VINCENTIO And you, good brother father. What offence hath this man made you, sir? ELBOW 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. DUKE VINCENTIO Fie, sirrah! a bawd, a wicked bawd! The evil that thou causest to be done, That is thy means to live. Do thou but think What 'tis to cram a maw or clothe a back From such a filthy vice: say to thyself, From their abominable and beastly touches I drink, I eat, array myself, and live. Canst thou believe thy living is a life, So stinkingly depending? Go mend, go mend. POMPEY Indeed, it does stink in some sort, sir; but yet, sir, I would prove-- DUKE VINCENTIO Nay, if the devil have given thee proofs for sin, Thou wilt prove his. Take him to prison, officer: Correction and instruction must both work Ere this rude beast will profit. ELBOW He must before the deputy, sir; he has given him warning: the deputy cannot abide a whoremaster: if he be a whoremonger, and comes before him, he were as good go a mile on his errand. DUKE VINCENTIO That we were all, as some would seem to be, From our faults, as faults from seeming, free! ELBOW His neck will come to your waist,--a cord, sir. POMPEY I spy comfort; I cry bail. Here's a gentleman and a friend of mine. [Enter LUCIO] LUCIO How now, noble Pompey! What, at the wheels of Caesar? art thou led in triumph? What, is there none of Pygmalion's images, newly made woman, to be had now, for putting the hand in the pocket and extracting it clutch'd? What reply, ha? What sayest thou to this tune, matter and method? Is't not drowned i' the last rain, ha? What sayest thou, Trot? Is the world as it was, man? Which is the way? Is it sad, and few words? or how? The trick of it? DUKE VINCENTIO Still thus, and thus; still worse! LUCIO How doth my dear morsel, thy mistress? Procures she still, ha? POMPEY Troth, sir, she hath eaten up all her beef, and she is herself in the tub. LUCIO Why, 'tis good; it is the right of it; it must be so: ever your fresh whore and your powdered bawd: an unshunned consequence; it must be so. Art going to prison, Pompey? POMPEY Yes, faith, sir. LUCIO Why, 'tis not amiss, Pompey. Farewell: go, say I sent thee thither. For debt, Pompey? or how? ELBOW For being a bawd, for being a bawd. LUCIO Well, then, imprison him: if imprisonment be the due of a bawd, why, 'tis his right: bawd is he doubtless, and of antiquity too; bawd-born. Farewell, good Pompey. Commend me to the prison, Pompey: you will turn good husband now, Pompey; you will keep the house. POMPEY I hope, sir, your good worship will be my bail. LUCIO No, indeed, will I not, Pompey; it is not the wear. I will pray, Pompey, to increase your bondage: If you take it not patiently, why, your mettle is the more. Adieu, trusty Pompey. 'Bless you, friar. DUKE VINCENTIO And you. LUCIO Does Bridget paint still, Pompey, ha? ELBOW Come your ways, sir; come. POMPEY You will not bail me, then, sir? LUCIO Then, Pompey, nor now. What news abroad, friar? what news? ELBOW Come your ways, sir; come. LUCIO Go to kennel, Pompey; go. [Exeunt ELBOW, POMPEY and Officers] What news, friar, of the duke? DUKE VINCENTIO I know none. Can you tell me of any? LUCIO Some say he is with the Emperor of Russia; other some, he is in Rome: but where is he, think you? DUKE VINCENTIO I know not where; but wheresoever, I wish him well. LUCIO It was a mad fantastical trick of him to steal from the state, and usurp the beggary he was never born to. Lord Angelo dukes it well in his absence; he puts transgression to 't. DUKE VINCENTIO He does well in 't. LUCIO A little more lenity to lechery would do no harm in him: something too crabbed that way, friar. DUKE VINCENTIO It is too general a vice, and severity must cure it. LUCIO Yes, in good sooth, the vice is of a great kindred; it is well allied: but it is impossible to extirp it quite, friar, till eating and drinking be put down. They say this Angelo was not made by man and woman after this downright way of creation: is it true, think you? DUKE VINCENTIO How should he be made, then? LUCIO Some report a sea-maid spawned him; some, that he was begot between two stock-fishes. But it is certain that when he makes water his urine is congealed ice; that I know to be true: and he is a motion generative; that's infallible. DUKE VINCENTIO You are pleasant, sir, and speak apace. LUCIO Why, what a ruthless thing is this in him, for the rebellion of a codpiece to take away the life of a man! Would the duke that is absent have done this? Ere he would have hanged a man for the getting a hundred bastards, he would have paid for the nursing a thousand: he had some feeling of the sport: he knew the service, and that instructed him to mercy. DUKE VINCENTIO I never heard the absent duke much detected for women; he was not inclined that way. LUCIO O, sir, you are deceived. DUKE VINCENTIO 'Tis not possible. LUCIO Who, not the duke? yes, your beggar of fifty; and his use was to put a ducat in her clack-dish: the duke had crotchets in him. He would be drunk too; that let me inform you. DUKE VINCENTIO You do him wrong, surely. LUCIO Sir, I was an inward of his. A shy fellow was the duke: and I believe I know the cause of his withdrawing. DUKE VINCENTIO What, I prithee, might be the cause? LUCIO No, pardon; 'tis a secret must be locked within the teeth and the lips: but this I can let you understand, the greater file of the subject held the duke to be wise. DUKE VINCENTIO Wise! why, no question but he was. LUCIO A very superficial, ignorant, unweighing fellow. DUKE VINCENTIO Either this is the envy in you, folly, or mistaking: the very stream of his life and the business he hath helmed must upon a warranted need give him a better proclamation. Let him be but testimonied in his own bringings-forth, and he shall appear to the envious a scholar, a statesman and a soldier. Therefore you speak unskilfully: or if your knowledge be more it is much darkened in your malice. LUCIO Sir, I know him, and I love him. DUKE VINCENTIO Love talks with better knowledge, and knowledge with dearer love. LUCIO Come, sir, I know what I know. DUKE VINCENTIO I can hardly believe that, since you know not what you speak. But, if ever the duke return, as our prayers are he may, let me desire you to make your answer before him. If it be honest you have spoke, you have courage to maintain it: I am bound to call upon you; and, I pray you, your name? LUCIO Sir, my name is Lucio; well known to the duke. DUKE VINCENTIO He shall know you better, sir, if I may live to report you. LUCIO I fear you not. DUKE VINCENTIO O, you hope the duke will return no more; or you imagine me too unhurtful an opposite. But indeed I can do you little harm; you'll forswear this again. LUCIO I'll be hanged first: thou art deceived in me, friar. But no more of this. Canst thou tell if Claudio die to-morrow or no? DUKE VINCENTIO Why should he die, sir? LUCIO Why? For filling a bottle with a tundish. I would the duke we talk of were returned again: the ungenitured agent will unpeople the province with continency; sparrows must not build in his house-eaves, because they are lecherous. The duke yet would have dark deeds darkly answered; he would never bring them to light: would he were returned! Marry, this Claudio is condemned for untrussing. Farewell, good friar: I prithee, pray for me. The duke, I say to thee again, would eat mutton on Fridays. He's not past it yet, and I say to thee, he would mouth with a beggar, though she smelt brown bread and garlic: say that I said so. Farewell. [Exit] DUKE VINCENTIO No might nor greatness in mortality Can censure 'scape; back-wounding calumny The whitest virtue strikes. What king so strong Can tie the gall up in the slanderous tongue? But who comes here? [Enter ESCALUS, Provost, and Officers with MISTRESS OVERDONE] ESCALUS Go; away with her to prison! MISTRESS OVERDONE Good my lord, be good to me; your honour is accounted a merciful man; good my lord. ESCALUS Double and treble admonition, and still forfeit in the same kind! This would make mercy swear and play the tyrant. Provost A bawd of eleven years' continuance, may it please your honour. MISTRESS OVERDONE My lord, this is one Lucio's information against me. Mistress Kate Keepdown was with child by him in the duke's time; he promised her marriage: his child is a year and a quarter old, come Philip and Jacob: I have kept it myself; and see how he goes about to abuse me! ESCALUS That fellow is a fellow of much licence: let him be called before us. Away with her to prison! Go to; no more words. [Exeunt Officers with MISTRESS OVERDONE] Provost, my brother Angelo will not be altered; Claudio must die to-morrow: let him be furnished with divines, and have all charitable preparation. if my brother wrought by my pity, it should not be so with him. Provost So please you, this friar hath been with him, and advised him for the entertainment of death. ESCALUS Good even, good father. DUKE VINCENTIO Bliss and goodness on you! ESCALUS Of whence are you? DUKE VINCENTIO Not of this country, though my chance is now To use it for my time: I am a brother Of gracious order, late come from the See In special business from his holiness. ESCALUS What news abroad i' the world? DUKE VINCENTIO None, but that there is so great a fever on goodness, that the dissolution of it must cure it: novelty is only in request; and it is as dangerous to be aged in any kind of course, as it is virtuous to be constant in any undertaking. There is scarce truth enough alive to make societies secure; but security enough to make fellowships accurst: much upon this riddle runs the wisdom of the world. This news is old enough, yet it is every day's news. I pray you, sir, of what disposition was the duke? ESCALUS One that, above all other strifes, contended especially to know himself. DUKE VINCENTIO What pleasure was he given to? ESCALUS Rather rejoicing to see another merry, than merry at any thing which professed to make him rejoice: a gentleman of all temperance. But leave we him to his events, with a prayer they may prove prosperous; and let me desire to know how you find Claudio prepared. I am made to understand that you have lent him visitation. DUKE VINCENTIO He professes to have received no sinister measure from his judge, but most willingly humbles himself to the determination of justice: yet had he framed to himself, by the instruction of his frailty, many deceiving promises of life; which I by my good leisure have discredited to him, and now is he resolved to die. ESCALUS You have paid the heavens your function, and the prisoner the very debt of your calling. I have laboured for the poor gentleman to the extremest shore of my modesty: but my brother justice have I found so severe, that he hath forced me to tell him he is indeed Justice. DUKE VINCENTIO If his own life answer the straitness of his proceeding, it shall become him well; wherein if he chance to fail, he hath sentenced himself. ESCALUS I am going to visit the prisoner. Fare you well. DUKE VINCENTIO Peace be with you! [Exeunt ESCALUS and Provost] He who the sword of heaven will bear Should be as holy as severe; Pattern in himself to know, Grace to stand, and virtue go; More nor less to others paying Than by self-offences weighing. Shame to him whose cruel striking Kills for faults of his own liking! Twice treble shame on Angelo, To weed my vice and let his grow! O, what may man within him hide, Though angel on the outward side! How may likeness made in crimes, Making practise on the times, To draw with idle spiders' strings Most ponderous and substantial things! Craft against vice I must apply: With Angelo to-night shall lie His old betrothed but despised; So disguise shall, by the disguised, Pay with falsehood false exacting, And perform an old contracting. [Exit] MEASURE FOR MEASURE ACT IV SCENE I The moated grange at ST. LUKE's. [Enter MARIANA and a Boy] [Boy sings] Take, O, take those lips away, That so sweetly were forsworn; And those eyes, the break of day, Lights that do mislead the morn: But my kisses bring again, bring again; Seals of love, but sealed in vain, sealed in vain. MARIANA Break off thy song, and haste thee quick away: Here comes a man of comfort, whose advice Hath often still'd my brawling discontent. [Exit Boy] [Enter DUKE VINCENTIO disguised as before] I cry you mercy, sir; and well could wish You had not found me here so musical: Let me excuse me, and believe me so, My mirth it much displeased, but pleased my woe. DUKE VINCENTIO 'Tis good; though music oft hath such a charm To make bad good, and good provoke to harm. I pray, you, tell me, hath any body inquired for me here to-day? much upon this time have I promised here to meet. MARIANA You have not been inquired after: I have sat here all day. [Enter ISABELLA] DUKE VINCENTIO I do constantly believe you. The time is come even now. I shall crave your forbearance a little: may be I will call upon you anon, for some advantage to yourself. MARIANA I am always bound to you. [Exit] DUKE VINCENTIO Very well met, and well come. What is the news from this good deputy? ISABELLA He hath a garden circummured 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; There have I made my promise Upon the heavy middle of the night To call upon him. DUKE VINCENTIO But shall you on your knowledge find this way? ISABELLA 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. DUKE VINCENTIO Are there no other tokens Between you 'greed concerning her observance? ISABELLA No, none, but only a repair i' the 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. DUKE VINCENTIO 'Tis well borne up. I have not yet made known to Mariana A word of this. What, ho! within! come forth! [Re-enter MARIANA] I pray you, be acquainted with this maid; She comes to do you good. ISABELLA I do desire the like. DUKE VINCENTIO Do you persuade yourself that I respect you? MARIANA Good friar, I know you do, and have found it. DUKE VINCENTIO Take, then, this your companion by the hand, Who hath a story ready for your ear. I shall attend your leisure: but make haste; The vaporous night approaches. MARIANA Will't please you walk aside? [Exeunt MARIANA and ISABELLA] DUKE VINCENTIO O place and greatness! millions of false eyes Are stuck upon thee: volumes of report Run with these false and most contrarious quests Upon thy doings: thousand escapes of wit Make thee the father of their idle dreams And rack thee in their fancies. [Re-enter MARIANA and ISABELLA] Welcome, how agreed? ISABELLA She'll take the enterprise upon her, father, If you advise it. DUKE VINCENTIO It is not my consent, But my entreaty too. ISABELLA Little have you to say When you depart from him, but, soft and low, 'Remember now my brother.' MARIANA Fear me not. DUKE VINCENTIO Nor, gentle daughter, fear you not at all. He is your husband on a pre-contract: To bring you thus together, 'tis no sin, Sith that the justice of your title to him Doth flourish the deceit. Come, let us go: Our corn's to reap, for yet our tithe's to sow. [Exeunt] MEASURE FOR MEASURE ACT IV SCENE II A room in the prison. [Enter Provost and POMPEY] Provost Come hither, sirrah. Can you cut off a man's head? POMPEY If the man be a bachelor, sir, I can; but if he be a married man, he's his wife's head, and I can never cut off a woman's head. Provost Come, sir, leave me your snatches, and yield me a direct answer. To-morrow morning are to die Claudio and Barnardine. Here is in our prison a common executioner, who in his office lacks a helper: if you will take it on you to assist him, it shall redeem you from your gyves; if not, you shall have your full time of imprisonment and your deliverance with an unpitied whipping, for you have been a notorious bawd. POMPEY Sir, I have been an unlawful bawd time out of mind; but yet I will be content to be a lawful hangman. I would be glad to receive some instruction from my fellow partner. Provost What, ho! Abhorson! Where's Abhorson, there? [Enter ABHORSON] ABHORSON Do you call, sir? Provost Sirrah, here's a fellow will help you to-morrow in your execution. If you think it meet, compound with him by the year, and let him abide here with you; if not, use him for the present and dismiss him. He cannot plead his estimation with you; he hath been a bawd. ABHORSON A bawd, sir? fie upon him! he will discredit our mystery. Provost Go to, sir; you weigh equally; a feather will turn the scale. [Exit] POMPEY Pray, sir, by your good favour,--for surely, sir, a good favour you have, but that you have a hanging look,--do you call, sir, your occupation a mystery? ABHORSON Ay, sir; a mystery POMPEY Painting, sir, I have heard say, is a mystery; and your whores, sir, being members of my occupation, using painting, do prove my occupation a mystery: but what mystery there should be in hanging, if I should be hanged, I cannot imagine. ABHORSON Sir, it is a mystery. POMPEY Proof? ABHORSON Every true man's apparel fits your thief: if it be too little for your thief, your true man thinks it big enough; if it be too big for your thief, your thief thinks it little enough: so every true man's apparel fits your thief. [Re-enter Provost] Provost Are you agreed? POMPEY Sir, I will serve him; for I do find your hangman is a more penitent trade than your bawd; he doth oftener ask forgiveness. Provost You, sirrah, provide your block and your axe to-morrow four o'clock. ABHORSON Come on, bawd; I will instruct thee in my trade; follow. POMPEY I do desire to learn, sir: and I hope, if you have occasion to use me for your own turn, you shall find me yare; for truly, sir, for your kindness I owe you a good turn. Provost Call hither Barnardine and Claudio: [Exeunt POMPEY and ABHORSON] The one has my pity; not a jot the other, Being a murderer, though he were my brother. [Enter CLAUDIO] Look, here's the warrant, Claudio, for thy death: 'Tis now dead midnight, and by eight to-morrow Thou must be made immortal. Where's Barnardine? CLAUDIO As fast lock'd up in sleep as guiltless labour When it lies starkly in the traveller's bones: He will not wake. Provost Who can do good on him? Well, go, prepare yourself. [Knocking within] But, hark, what noise? Heaven give your spirits comfort! [Exit CLAUDIO] By and by. I hope it is some pardon or reprieve For the most gentle Claudio. [Enter DUKE VINCENTIO disguised as before] Welcome father. DUKE VINCENTIO The best and wholesomest spirts of the night Envelope you, good Provost! Who call'd here of late? Provost None, since the curfew rung. DUKE VINCENTIO Not Isabel? Provost No. DUKE VINCENTIO They will, then, ere't be long. Provost What comfort is for Claudio? DUKE VINCENTIO There's some in hope. Provost It is a bitter deputy. DUKE VINCENTIO 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 power To qualify in others: were he meal'd with that Which he corrects, then were he tyrannous; But this being so, he's just. [Knocking within] Now are they come. [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 possessed with haste That wounds the unsisting postern with these strokes. [Re-enter Provost] Provost There he must stay until the officer Arise to let him in: he is call'd up. DUKE VINCENTIO Have you no countermand for Claudio yet, But he must die to-morrow? Provost None, sir, none. DUKE VINCENTIO As near the dawning, provost, as it is, You shall hear more ere morning. Provost Happily You something know; yet I believe there comes No countermand; no such example have we: Besides, upon the very siege of justice Lord Angelo hath to the public ear Profess'd the contrary. [Enter a Messenger] This is his lordship's man. DUKE VINCENTIO And here comes Claudio's pardon. Messenger [Giving a paper] My lord hath sent you this note; and by me this further charge, that you swerve not from the smallest article of it, neither in time, matter, or other circumstance. Good morrow; for, as I take it, it is almost day. Provost I shall obey him. [Exit Messenger] DUKE VINCENTIO [Aside] This is his pardon, purchased by such sin For which the pardoner himself is in. Hence hath offence his quick celerity, When it is born in high authority: When vice makes mercy, mercy's so extended, That for the fault's love is the offender friended. Now, sir, what news? Provost I told you. Lord Angelo, belike thinking me remiss in mine office, awakens me with this unwonted putting-on; methinks strangely, for he hath not used it before. DUKE VINCENTIO Pray you, let's hear. Provost [Reads] 'Whatsoever you may hear to the contrary, let Claudio be executed by four of the clock; and in the afternoon Barnardine: for my better satisfaction, let me have Claudio's head sent me by five. Let this be duly performed; with a thought that more depends on it than we must yet deliver. Thus fail not to do your office, as you will answer it at your peril.' What say you to this, sir? DUKE VINCENTIO What is that Barnardine who is to be executed in the afternoon? Provost A Bohemian born, but here nursed un and bred; one that is a prisoner nine years old. DUKE VINCENTIO How came it that the absent duke had not either delivered him to his liberty or executed him? I have heard it was ever his manner to do so. Provost His friends still wrought reprieves for him: and, indeed, his fact, till now in the government of Lord Angelo, came not to an undoubtful proof. DUKE VINCENTIO It is now apparent? Provost Most manifest, and not denied by himself. DUKE VINCENTIO Hath he born himself penitently in prison? how seems he to be touched? Provost A man that apprehends death no more dreadfully but as a drunken sleep; careless, reckless, and fearless of what's past, present, or to come; insensible of mortality, and desperately mortal. DUKE VINCENTIO He wants advice. Provost He will hear none: he hath evermore had the liberty of the prison; give him leave to escape hence, he would not: drunk many times a day, if not many days entirely drunk. We have very oft awaked him, as if to carry him to execution, and showed him a seeming warrant for it: it hath not moved him at all. DUKE VINCENTIO More of him anon. There is written in your brow, provost, honesty and constancy: if I read it not truly, my ancient skill beguiles me; but, in the boldness of my cunning, I will lay myself in hazard. Claudio, whom here you have warrant to execute, is no greater forfeit to the law than Angelo who hath sentenced him. To make you understand this in a manifested effect, I crave but four days' respite; for the which you are to do me both a present and a dangerous courtesy. Provost Pray, sir, in what? DUKE VINCENTIO In the delaying death. Provost A lack, how may I do it, having the hour limited, and an express command, under penalty, to deliver his head in the view of Angelo? I may make my case as Claudio's, to cross this in the smallest. DUKE VINCENTIO By the vow of mine order I warrant you, if my instructions may be your guide. Let this Barnardine be this morning executed, and his head born to Angelo. Provost Angelo hath seen them both, and will discover the favour. DUKE VINCENTIO O, death's a great disguiser; and you may add to it. Shave the head, and tie the beard; and say it was the desire of the penitent to be so bared before his death: you know the course is common. If any thing fall to you upon this, more than thanks and good fortune, by the saint whom I profess, I will plead against it with my life. Provost Pardon me, good father; it is against my oath. DUKE VINCENTIO Were you sworn to the duke, or to the deputy? Provost To him, and to his substitutes. DUKE VINCENTIO You will think you have made no offence, if the duke avouch the justice of your dealing? Provost But what likelihood is in that? DUKE VINCENTIO Not a resemblance, but a certainty. Yet since I see you fearful, that neither my coat, integrity, nor persuasion can with ease attempt you, I will go further than I meant, to pluck all fears out of you. Look you, sir, here is the hand and seal of the duke: you know the character, I doubt not; and the signet is not strange to you. Provost I know them both. DUKE VINCENTIO 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. This is a thing that Angelo knows not; for he this very day receives letters of strange tenor; perchance of the duke's death; perchance entering into some monastery; but, by chance, nothing of what is writ. Look, the unfolding star calls up the shepherd. Put not yourself into amazement how these things should be: all difficulties are but easy when they are known. Call your executioner, and off with Barnardine's head: I will give him a present shrift and advise him for a better place. Yet you are amazed; but this shall absolutely resolve you. Come away; it is almost clear dawn. [Exeunt] MEASURE FOR MEASURE ACT IV SCENE III Another room in the same. [Enter POMPEY] POMPEY I am as well acquainted here as I was in our house of profession: one would think it were Mistress Overdone's own house, for here be many of her old customers. First, here's young Master Rash; he's in for a commodity of brown paper and old ginger, ninescore and seventeen pounds; of which he made five marks, ready money: marry, then ginger was not much in request, for the old women were all dead. Then is there here one Master Caper, at the suit of Master Three-pile the mercer, for some four suits of peach-coloured satin, which now peaches him a beggar. Then have we here young Dizy, and young Master Deep-vow, and Master Copperspur, and Master Starve-lackey the rapier and dagger man, and young Drop-heir that killed lusty Pudding, and Master Forthlight the tilter, and brave Master Shooty the great traveller, and wild Half-can that stabbed Pots, and, I think, forty more; all great doers in our trade, and are now 'for the Lord's sake.' [Enter ABHORSON] ABHORSON Sirrah, bring Barnardine hither. POMPEY Master Barnardine! you must rise and be hanged. Master Barnardine! ABHORSON What, ho, Barnardine! BARNARDINE [Within] A pox o' your throats! Who makes that noise there? What are you? POMPEY Your friends, sir; the hangman. You must be so good, sir, to rise and be put to death. BARNARDINE [Within] Away, you rogue, away! I am sleepy. ABHORSON Tell him he must awake, and that quickly too. POMPEY Pray, Master Barnardine, awake till you are executed, and sleep afterwards. ABHORSON Go in to him, and fetch him out. POMPEY He is coming, sir, he is coming; I hear his straw rustle. ABHORSON Is the axe upon the block, sirrah? POMPEY Very ready, sir. [Enter BARNARDINE] BARNARDINE How now, Abhorson? what's the news with you? ABHORSON Truly, sir, I would desire you to clap into your prayers; for, look you, the warrant's come. BARNARDINE You rogue, I have been drinking all night; I am not fitted for 't. POMPEY O, the better, sir; for he that drinks all night, and is hanged betimes in the morning, may sleep the sounder all the next day. ABHORSON Look you, sir; here comes your ghostly father: do we jest now, think you? [Enter DUKE VINCENTIO disguised as before] DUKE VINCENTIO Sir, induced by my charity, and hearing how hastily you are to depart, I am come to advise you, comfort you and pray with you. BARNARDINE Friar, not I I have been drinking hard all night, and I will have more time to prepare me, or they shall beat out my brains with billets: I will not consent to die this day, that's certain. DUKE VINCENTIO O, sir, you must: and therefore I beseech you Look forward on the journey you shall go. BARNARDINE I swear I will not die to-day for any man's persuasion. DUKE VINCENTIO But hear you. BARNARDINE Not a word: if you have any thing to say to me, come to my ward; for thence will not I to-day. [Exit] DUKE VINCENTIO Unfit to live or die: O gravel heart! After him, fellows; bring him to the block. [Exeunt ABHORSON and POMPEY] [Re-enter Provost] Provost Now, sir, how do you find the prisoner? DUKE VINCENTIO A creature unprepared, unmeet for death; And to transport him in the mind he is Were damnable. Provost Here in the prison, father, There died this morning of a cruel fever One Ragozine, a most notorious pirate, A man of Claudio's years; his beard and head Just of his colour. What if we do omit This reprobate till he were well inclined; And satisfy the deputy with the visage Of Ragozine, more like to Claudio? DUKE VINCENTIO O, 'tis an accident that heaven provides! Dispatch it presently; the hour draws on Prefix'd by Angelo: see this be done, And sent according to command; whiles I Persuade this rude wretch willingly to die. Provost This shall be done, good father, presently. But Barnardine must die this afternoon: And how shall we continue Claudio, To save me from the danger that might come If he were known alive? DUKE VINCENTIO Let this be done. Put them in secret holds, both Barnardine and Claudio: Ere twice the sun hath made his journal greeting To the under generation, you shall find Your safety manifested. Provost I am your free dependant. DUKE VINCENTIO Quick, dispatch, and send the head to Angelo. [Exit Provost] Now will I write letters to Angelo,-- The provost, he shall bear them, whose contents Shall witness to him I am near at home, And that, by great injunctions, I am bound To enter publicly: him I'll desire To meet me at the consecrated fount A league below the city; and from thence, By cold gradation and well-balanced form, We shall proceed with Angelo. [Re-enter Provost] Provost Here is the head; I'll carry it myself. DUKE VINCENTIO Convenient is it. Make a swift return; For I would commune with you of such things That want no ear but yours. Provost I'll make all speed. [Exit] ISABELLA [Within] Peace, ho, be here! DUKE VINCENTIO The tongue of Isabel. She's come to know If yet her brother's pardon be come hither: But I will keep her ignorant of her good, To make her heavenly comforts of despair, When it is least expected. [Enter ISABELLA] ISABELLA Ho, by your leave! DUKE VINCENTIO Good morning to you, fair and gracious daughter. ISABELLA The better, given me by so holy a man. Hath yet the deputy sent my brother's pardon? DUKE VINCENTIO He hath released him, Isabel, from the world: His head is off and sent to Angelo. ISABELLA Nay, but it is not so. DUKE VINCENTIO It is no other: show your wisdom, daughter, In your close patience. ISABELLA O, I will to him and pluck out his eyes! DUKE VINCENTIO You shall not be admitted to his sight. ISABELLA Unhappy Claudio! wretched Isabel! Injurious world! most damned Angelo! DUKE VINCENTIO This nor hurts him nor profits you a jot; Forbear it therefore; give your cause to heaven. Mark what I say, which you shall find By every syllable a faithful verity: The duke comes home to-morrow; nay, dry your eyes; One of our convent, and his confessor, Gives me this instance: already he hath carried Notice to Escalus and Angelo, Who do prepare to meet him at the gates, There to give up their power. If you can, pace your wisdom In that good path that I would wish it go, And you shall have your bosom on this wretch, Grace of the duke, revenges to your heart, And general honour. ISABELLA I am directed by you. DUKE VINCENTIO This letter, then, to Friar Peter give; 'Tis that he sent me of the duke's return: Say, by this token, I desire his company At Mariana's house to-night. Her cause and yours I'll perfect him withal, and he shall bring you Before the duke, and to the head of Angelo Accuse him home and home. For my poor self, I am combined by a sacred vow And shall be absent. Wend you with this letter: Command these fretting waters from your eyes With a light heart; trust not my holy order, If I pervert your course. Who's here? [Enter LUCIO] LUCIO Good even. Friar, where's the provost? DUKE VINCENTIO Not within, sir. LUCIO O pretty Isabella, I am pale at mine heart to see thine eyes so red: thou must be patient. I am fain to dine and sup with water and bran; I dare not for my head fill my belly; one fruitful meal would set me to 't. But they say the duke will be here to-morrow. By my troth, Isabel, I loved thy brother: if the old fantastical duke of dark corners had been at home, he had lived. [Exit ISABELLA] DUKE VINCENTIO Sir, the duke is marvellous little beholding to your reports; but the best is, he lives not in them. LUCIO Friar, thou knowest not the duke so well as I do: he's a better woodman than thou takest him for. DUKE VINCENTIO Well, you'll answer this one day. Fare ye well. LUCIO Nay, tarry; I'll go along with thee I can tell thee pretty tales of the duke. DUKE VINCENTIO You have told me too many of him already, sir, if they be true; if not true, none were enough. LUCIO I was once before him for getting a wench with child. DUKE VINCENTIO Did you such a thing? LUCIO Yes, marry, did I but I was fain to forswear it; they would else have married me to the rotten medlar. DUKE VINCENTIO Sir, your company is fairer than honest. Rest you well. LUCIO By my troth, I'll go with thee to the lane's end: if bawdy talk offend you, we'll have very little of it. Nay, friar, I am a kind of burr; I shall stick. [Exeunt] MEASURE FOR MEASURE ACT IV SCENE IV A room in ANGELO's house. [Enter ANGELO and ESCALUS] ESCALUS Every letter he hath writ hath disvouched other. ANGELO In most uneven and distracted manner. His actions show much like to madness: pray heaven his wisdom be not tainted! And why meet him at the gates, and redeliver our authorities there ESCALUS I guess not. ANGELO And why should we proclaim it in an hour before his entering, that if any crave redress of injustice, they should exhibit their petitions in the street? ESCALUS He shows his reason for that: to have a dispatch of complaints, and to deliver us from devices hereafter, which shall then have no power to stand against us. ANGELO Well, I beseech you, let it be proclaimed betimes i' the morn; I'll call you at your house: give notice to such men of sort and suit as are to meet him. ESCALUS I shall, sir. Fare you well. ANGELO Good night. [Exit ESCALUS] This deed unshapes me quite, makes me unpregnant And dull to all proceedings. A deflower'd maid! And by an eminent body that enforced 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 of a credent bulk, That no particular scandal once can touch But it confounds the breather. He should have lived, Save that riotous youth, with dangerous sense, Might in the times to come have ta'en revenge, By so receiving a dishonour'd life With ransom of such shame. Would yet he had lived! A lack, when once our grace we have forgot, Nothing goes right: we would, and we would not. [Exit] MEASURE FOR MEASURE ACT IV SCENE V Fields without the town. [Enter DUKE VINCENTIO in his own habit, and FRIAR PETER] DUKE VINCENTIO These letters at fit time deliver me [Giving letters] The provost knows our purpose and our plot. The matter being afoot, keep your instruction, And hold you ever to our special drift; Though sometimes you do blench from this to that, As cause doth minister. Go call at Flavius' house, And tell him where I stay: give the like notice To Valentinus, Rowland, and to Crassus, And bid them bring the trumpets to the gate; But send me Flavius first. FRIAR PETER It shall be speeded well. [Exit] [Enter VARRIUS] DUKE VINCENTIO I thank thee, Varrius; thou hast made good haste: Come, we will walk. There's other of our friends Will greet us here anon, my gentle Varrius. [Exeunt] MEASURE FOR MEASURE ACT IV SCENE VI Street near the city gate. [Enter ISABELLA and MARIANA] ISABELLA To speak so indirectly I am loath: I would say the truth; but to accuse him so, That is your part: yet I am advised to do it; He says, to veil full purpose. MARIANA Be ruled by him. ISABELLA Besides, he tells me that, if peradventure He speak against me on the adverse side, I should not think it strange; for 'tis a physic That's bitter to sweet end. MARIANA I would Friar Peter-- ISABELLA O, peace! the friar is come. [Enter FRIAR PETER] FRIAR PETER Come, I have found you out a stand most fit, Where you may have such vantage on the duke, He shall not pass you. Twice have the trumpets sounded; The generous and gravest citizens Have hent the gates, and very near upon The duke is entering: therefore, hence, away! [Exeunt] MEASURE FOR MEASURE ACT V SCENE I The city gate. [MARIANA veiled, ISABELLA, and FRIAR PETER, at their stand. Enter DUKE VINCENTIO, VARRIUS, Lords, ANGELO, ESCALUS, LUCIO, Provost, Officers, and Citizens, at several doors] DUKE VINCENTIO My very worthy cousin, fairly met! Our old and faithful friend, we are glad to see you. ANGELO | | Happy return be to your royal grace! ESCALUS | DUKE VINCENTIO Many and hearty thankings to you both. We have made inquiry of you; and we hear Such goodness of your justice, that our soul Cannot but yield you forth to public thanks, Forerunning more requital. ANGELO You make my bonds still greater. DUKE VINCENTIO O, your desert speaks loud; and I should wrong it, To lock it in the wards of covert bosom, When it deserves, with characters of brass, A forted residence 'gainst the tooth of time And razure of oblivion. Give me your hand, And let the subject see, to make them know That outward courtesies would fain proclaim Favours that keep within. Come, Escalus, You must walk by us on our other hand; And good supporters are you. [FRIAR PETER and ISABELLA come forward] FRIAR PETER Now is your time: speak loud and kneel before him. ISABELLA Justice, O royal duke! Vail your regard Upon a wrong'd, I would fain have said, a maid! O worthy prince, dishonour not your eye By throwing it on any other object Till you have heard me in my true complaint And given me justice, justice, justice, justice! DUKE VINCENTIO Relate your wrongs; in what? by whom? be brief. Here is Lord Angelo shall give you justice: Reveal yourself to him. ISABELLA O worthy duke, You bid me seek redemption of the devil: Hear me yourself; for that which I must speak Must either punish me, not being believed, Or wring redress from you. Hear me, O hear me, here! ANGELO My lord, her wits, I fear me, are not firm: She hath been a suitor to me for her brother Cut off by course of justice,-- ISABELLA By course of justice! ANGELO And she will speak most bitterly and strange. ISABELLA Most strange, but yet most truly, will I speak: That Angelo's forsworn; is it not strange? That Angelo's a murderer; is 't not strange? That Angelo is an adulterous thief, An hypocrite, a virgin-violator; Is it not strange and strange? DUKE VINCENTIO Nay, it is ten times strange. ISABELLA It is not truer he is Angelo Than this is all as true as it is strange: Nay, it is ten times true; for truth is truth To the end of reckoning. DUKE VINCENTIO Away with her! Poor soul, She speaks this in the infirmity of sense. ISABELLA O prince, I conjure thee, as thou believest There is another comfort than this world, That thou neglect me not, with that opinion That I am touch'd with madness! Make not impossible That which but seems unlike: 'tis not impossible But one, the wicked'st caitiff on the ground, May seem as shy, as grave, as just, as absolute As Angelo; even so may Angelo, In all his dressings, characts, titles, forms, Be an arch-villain; believe it, royal prince: If he be less, he's nothing; but he's more, Had I more name for badness. DUKE VINCENTIO By mine honesty, If she be mad,--as I believe no other,-- Her madness hath the oddest frame of sense, Such a dependency of thing on thing, As e'er I heard in madness. ISABELLA 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. DUKE VINCENTIO Many that are not mad Have, sure, more lack of reason. What would you say? ISABELLA I am the sister of one Claudio, Condemn'd upon the act of fornication To lose his head; condemn'd by Angelo: I, in probation of a sisterhood, Was sent to by my brother; one Lucio As then the messenger,-- LUCIO That's I, an't like your grace: I came to her from Claudio, and desired her To try her gracious fortune with Lord Angelo For her poor brother's pardon. ISABELLA That's he indeed. DUKE VINCENTIO You were not bid to speak. LUCIO No, my good lord; Nor wish'd to hold my peace. DUKE VINCENTIO I wish you now, then; Pray you, take note of it: and when you have A business for yourself, pray heaven you then Be perfect. LUCIO I warrant your honour. DUKE VINCENTIO The warrants for yourself; take heed to't. ISABELLA This gentleman told somewhat of my tale,-- LUCIO Right. DUKE VINCENTIO It may be right; but you are i' the wrong To speak before your time. Proceed. ISABELLA I went To this pernicious caitiff deputy,-- DUKE VINCENTIO That's somewhat madly spoken. ISABELLA Pardon it; The phrase is to the matter. DUKE VINCENTIO Mended again. The matter; proceed. ISABELLA In brief, to set the needless process by, How I persuaded, how I pray'd, and kneel'd, How he refell'd me, and how I replied,-- For this was of much length,--the vile conclusion I now begin with grief and shame to utter: He would not, but by gift of my chaste body To his concupiscible intemperate lust, Release my brother; and, after much debatement, My sisterly remorse confutes mine honour, And I did yield to him: but the next morn betimes, His purpose surfeiting, he sends a warrant For my poor brother's head. DUKE VINCENTIO This is most likely! ISABELLA O, that it were as like as it is true! DUKE VINCENTIO By heaven, fond wretch, thou knowist not what thou speak'st, Or else thou art suborn'd against his honour In hateful practise. First, his integrity Stands without blemish. Next, it imports no reason That with such vehemency he should pursue Faults proper to himself: if he had so offended, He would have weigh'd thy brother by himself And not have cut him off. Some one hath set you on: Confess the truth, and say by whose advice Thou camest here to complain. ISABELLA And is this all? Then, O you blessed ministers above, Keep me in patience, and with ripen'd time Unfold the evil which is here wrapt up In countenance! Heaven shield your grace from woe, As I, thus wrong'd, hence unbelieved go! DUKE VINCENTIO I know you'ld fain be gone. An officer! To prison with her! Shall we thus permit A blasting and a scandalous breath to fall On him so near us? This needs must be a practise. Who knew of Your intent and coming hither? ISABELLA One that I would were here, Friar Lodowick. DUKE VINCENTIO A ghostly father, belike. Who knows that Lodowick? LUCIO My lord, I know him; 'tis a meddling friar; I do not like the man: had he been lay, my lord For certain words he spake against your grace In your retirement, I had swinged him soundly. DUKE VINCENTIO Words against me? this is a good friar, belike! And to set on this wretched woman here Against our substitute! Let this friar be found. LUCIO But yesternight, my lord, she and that friar, I saw them at the prison: a saucy friar, A very scurvy fellow. FRIAR PETER Blessed be your royal grace! I have stood by, my lord, and I have heard Your royal ear abused. First, hath this woman Most wrongfully accused your substitute, Who is as free from touch or soil with her As she from one ungot. DUKE VINCENTIO We did believe no less. Know you that Friar Lodowick that she speaks of? FRIAR PETER I know him for a man divine and holy; Not scurvy, nor a temporary meddler, As he's reported by this gentleman; And, on my trust, a man that never yet Did, as he vouches, misreport your grace. LUCIO My lord, most villanously; believe it. FRIAR PETER Well, he in time may come to clear himself; But at this instant he is sick my lord, Of a strange fever. Upon his mere request, Being come to knowledge that there was complaint Intended 'gainst Lord Angelo, came I hither, To speak, as from his mouth, what he doth know Is true and false; and what he with his oath And all probation will make up full clear, Whensoever he's convented. First, for this woman. To justify this worthy nobleman, So vulgarly and personally accused, Her shall you hear disproved to her eyes, Till she herself confess it. DUKE VINCENTIO Good friar, let's hear it. [ISABELLA is carried off guarded; and MARIANA comes forward] Do you not smile at this, Lord Angelo? O heaven, the vanity of wretched fools! Give us some seats. Come, cousin Angelo; In this I'll be impartial; be you judge Of your own cause. Is this the witness, friar? First, let her show her face, and after speak. MARIANA Pardon, my lord; I will not show my face Until my husband bid me. DUKE VINCENTIO What, are you married? MARIANA No, my lord. DUKE VINCENTIO Are you a maid? MARIANA No, my lord. DUKE VINCENTIO A widow, then? MARIANA Neither, my lord. DUKE VINCENTIO Why, you are nothing then: neither maid, widow, nor wife? LUCIO My lord, she may be a punk; for many of them are neither maid, widow, nor wife. DUKE VINCENTIO Silence that fellow: I would he had some cause To prattle for himself. LUCIO Well, my lord. MARIANA My lord; I do confess I ne'er was married; And I confess besides I am no maid: I have known my husband; yet my husband Knows not that ever he knew me. LUCIO He was drunk then, my lord: it can be no better. DUKE VINCENTIO For the benefit of silence, would thou wert so too! LUCIO Well, my lord. DUKE VINCENTIO This is no witness for Lord Angelo. MARIANA Now I come to't my lord She that accuses him of fornication, In self-same manner doth accuse my husband, And charges him my lord, with such a time When I'll depose I had him in mine arms With all the effect of love. ANGELO Charges she more than me? MARIANA Not that I know. DUKE VINCENTIO No? you say your husband. MARIANA Why, just, my lord, and that is Angelo, Who thinks he knows that he ne'er knew my body, But knows he thinks that he knows Isabel's. ANGELO This is a strange abuse. Let's see thy face. MARIANA My husband bids me; now I will unmask. [Unveiling] This is that face, thou cruel Angelo, Which once thou sworest was worth the looking on; This is the hand which, with a vow'd contract, Was fast belock'd in thine; this is the body That took away the match from Isabel, And did supply thee at thy garden-house In her imagined person. DUKE VINCENTIO Know you this woman? LUCIO Carnally, she says. DUKE VINCENTIO Sirrah, no more! LUCIO Enough, my lord. ANGELO My lord, I must confess I know this woman: And five years since there was some speech of marriage Betwixt myself and her; which was broke off, Partly for that her promised proportions Came short of composition, but in chief For that her reputation was disvalued In levity: since which time of five years I never spake with her, saw her, nor heard from her, Upon my faith and honour. MARIANA Noble prince, As there comes light from heaven and words from breath, As there is sense in truth and truth in virtue, I am affianced this man's wife as strongly As words could make up vows: and, my good lord, But Tuesday night last gone in's garden-house He knew me as a wife. As this is true, Let me in safety raise me from my knees Or else for ever be confixed here, A marble monument! ANGELO I did but smile till now: Now, good my lord, give me the scope of justice My patience here is touch'd. I do perceive These poor informal women are no more But instruments of some more mightier member That sets them on: let me have way, my lord, To find this practise out. DUKE VINCENTIO Ay, with my heart And punish them to your height of pleasure. Thou foolish friar, and thou pernicious woman, Compact with her that's gone, think'st thou thy oaths, Though they would swear down each particular saint, Were testimonies against his worth and credit That's seal'd in approbation? You, Lord Escalus, Sit with my cousin; lend him your kind pains To find out this abuse, whence 'tis derived. There is another friar that set them on; Let him be sent for. FRIAR PETER Would he were here, my lord! for he indeed Hath set the women on to this complaint: Your provost knows the place where he abides And he may fetch him. DUKE VINCENTIO Go do it instantly. [Exit Provost] And you, my noble and well-warranted cousin, Whom it concerns to hear this matter forth, Do with your injuries as seems you best, In any chastisement: I for a while will leave you; But stir not you till you have well determined Upon these slanderers. ESCALUS My lord, we'll do it throughly. [Exit DUKE] Signior Lucio, did not you say you knew that Friar Lodowick to be a dishonest person? LUCIO 'Cucullus non facit monachum:' honest in nothing but in his clothes; and one that hath spoke most villanous speeches of the duke. ESCALUS We shall entreat you to abide here till he come and enforce them against him: we shall find this friar a notable fellow. LUCIO As any in Vienna, on my word. ESCALUS Call that same Isabel here once again; I would speak with her. [Exit an Attendant] Pray you, my lord, give me leave to question; you shall see how I'll handle her. LUCIO Not better than he, by her own report. ESCALUS Say you? LUCIO Marry, sir, I think, if you handled her privately, she would sooner confess: perchance, publicly, she'll be ashamed. ESCALUS I will go darkly to work with her. LUCIO That's the way; for women are light at midnight. [Re-enter Officers with ISABELLA; and Provost with the DUKE VINCENTIO in his friar's habit] ESCALUS Come on, mistress: here's a gentlewoman denies all that you have said. LUCIO My lord, here comes the rascal I spoke of; here with the provost. ESCALUS In very good time: speak not you to him till we call upon you. LUCIO Mum. ESCALUS Come, sir: did you set these women on to slander Lord Angelo? they have confessed you did. DUKE VINCENTIO 'Tis false. ESCALUS How! know you where you are? DUKE VINCENTIO 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. ESCALUS The duke's in us; and we will hear you speak: Look you speak justly. DUKE VINCENTIO Boldly, at least. 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. The duke's unjust, Thus to retort your manifest appeal, And put your trial in the villain's mouth Which here you come to accuse. LUCIO This is the rascal; this is he I spoke of. ESCALUS Why, thou unreverend and unhallow'd friar, Is't not enough thou hast suborn'd these women To accuse this worthy man, but, in foul mouth And in the witness of his proper ear, To call him villain? and then to glance from him To the duke himself, to tax him with injustice? Take him hence; to the rack with him! We'll touse you Joint by joint, but we will know his purpose. What 'unjust'! DUKE VINCENTIO Be not so hot; the duke Dare no more stretch this finger of mine than he Dare rack his own: his subject am I not, Nor here provincial. My business in this state Made me a looker on here in Vienna, Where I have seen corruption boil and bubble Till it o'er-run the stew; laws for all faults, But faults so countenanced, that the strong statutes Stand like the forfeits in a barber's shop, As much in mock as mark. ESCALUS Slander to the state! Away with him to prison! ANGELO What can you vouch against him, Signior Lucio? Is this the man that you did tell us of? LUCIO 'Tis he, my lord. Come hither, goodman baldpate: do you know me? DUKE VINCENTIO I remember you, sir, by the sound of your voice: I met you at the prison, in the absence of the duke. LUCIO O, did you so? And do you remember what you said of the duke? DUKE VINCENTIO Most notedly, sir. LUCIO Do you so, sir? And was the duke a fleshmonger, a fool, and a coward, as you then reported him to be? DUKE VINCENTIO You must, sir, change persons with me, ere you make that my report: you, indeed, spoke so of him; and much more, much worse. LUCIO O thou damnable fellow! Did not I pluck thee by the nose for thy speeches? DUKE VINCENTIO I protest I love the duke as I love myself. ANGELO Hark, how the villain would close now, after his treasonable abuses! ESCALUS Such a fellow is not to be talked withal. Away with him to prison! Where is the provost? Away with him to prison! lay bolts enough upon him: let him speak no more. Away with those giglots too, and with the other confederate companion! DUKE VINCENTIO [To Provost] Stay, sir; stay awhile. ANGELO What, resists he? Help him, Lucio. LUCIO Come, sir; come, sir; come, sir; foh, sir! Why, you bald-pated, lying rascal, you must be hooded, must you? Show your knave's visage, with a pox to you! show your sheep-biting face, and be hanged an hour! Will't not off? [Pulls off the friar's hood, and discovers DUKE VINCENTIO] DUKE VINCENTIO Thou art the first knave that e'er madest a duke. First, provost, let me bail these gentle three. [To LUCIO] Sneak not away, sir; for the friar and you Must have a word anon. Lay hold on him. LUCIO This may prove worse than hanging. DUKE VINCENTIO [To ESCALUS] What you have spoke I pardon: sit you down: We'll borrow place of him. [To ANGELO] Sir, by your leave. Hast thou or word, or wit, or impudence, That yet can do thee office? If thou hast, Rely upon it till my tale be heard, And hold no longer out. ANGELO O my dread lord, I should be guiltier than my guiltiness, To think I can be undiscernible, When I perceive your grace, like power divine, Hath look'd upon my passes. 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. DUKE VINCENTIO Come hither, Mariana. Say, wast thou e'er contracted to this woman? ANGELO I was, my lord. DUKE VINCENTIO Go take her hence, and marry her instantly. Do you the office, friar; which consummate, Return him here again. Go with him, provost. [Exeunt ANGELO, MARIANA, FRIAR PETER and Provost] ESCALUS My lord, I am more amazed at his dishonour Than at the strangeness of it. DUKE VINCENTIO Come hither, Isabel. Your friar is now your prince: as I was then Advertising and holy to your business, Not changing heart with habit, I am still Attorney'd at your service. ISABELLA O, give me pardon, That I, your vassal, have employ'd and pain'd Your unknown sovereignty! DUKE VINCENTIO You are pardon'd, Isabel: And now, dear maid, be you as free to us. Your brother's death, I know, sits at your heart; And you may marvel why I obscured myself, Labouring to save his life, and would not rather Make rash remonstrance of my hidden power Than let him so be lost. O most kind maid, It was the swift celerity of his death, Which I did think with slower foot came on, That brain'd my purpose. But, peace be with him! That life is better life, past fearing death, Than that which lives to fear: make it your comfort, So happy is your brother. ISABELLA I do, my lord. [Re-enter ANGELO, MARIANA, FRIAR PETER, and Provost] DUKE VINCENTIO For this new-married man approaching here, Whose salt imagination yet hath wrong'd Your well defended honour, you must pardon For Mariana's sake: but as he adjudged your brother,-- Being criminal, in double violation Of sacred chastity and of promise-breach Thereon dependent, for your brother's life,-- The very mercy of the law cries out Most audible, even from his proper tongue, 'An Angelo for Claudio, death for death!' Haste still pays haste, and leisure answers leisure; Like doth quit like, and MEASURE still FOR MEASURE. Then, Angelo, thy fault's thus manifested; Which, though thou wouldst deny, denies thee vantage. We do condemn thee to the very block Where Claudio stoop'd to death, and with like haste. Away with him! MARIANA O my most gracious lord, I hope you will not mock me with a husband. DUKE VINCENTIO It is your husband mock'd you with a husband. Consenting to the safeguard of your honour, I thought your marriage fit; else imputation, For that he knew you, might reproach your life And choke your good to come; for his possessions, Although by confiscation they are ours, We do instate and widow you withal, To buy you a better husband. MARIANA O my dear lord, I crave no other, nor no better man. DUKE VINCENTIO Never crave him; we are definitive. MARIANA Gentle my liege,-- [Kneeling] DUKE VINCENTIO You do but lose your labour. Away with him to death! [To LUCIO] Now, sir, to you. MARIANA O my good lord! Sweet Isabel, take my part; Lend me your knees, and all my life to come I'll lend you all my life to do you service. DUKE VINCENTIO Against all sense you do importune her: Should she kneel down in mercy of this fact, Her brother's ghost his paved bed would break, And take her hence in horror. MARIANA Isabel, Sweet Isabel, do yet but kneel by me; Hold up your hands, say nothing; I'll speak all. They say, best men are moulded out of faults; And, for the most, become much more the better For being a little bad: so may my husband. O Isabel, will you not lend a knee? DUKE VINCENTIO He dies for Claudio's death. ISABELLA Most bounteous sir, [Kneeling] Look, if it please you, on this man condemn'd, As if my brother lived: I partly think A due sincerity govern'd his deeds, Till he did look on me: since it is so, Let him not die. 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: thoughts are no subjects; Intents but merely thoughts. MARIANA Merely, my lord. DUKE VINCENTIO Your suit's unprofitable; stand up, I say. I have bethought me of another fault. Provost, how came it Claudio was beheaded At an unusual hour? Provost It was commanded so. DUKE VINCENTIO Had you a special warrant for the deed? Provost No, my good lord; it was by private message. DUKE VINCENTIO For which I do discharge you of your office: Give up your keys. Provost Pardon me, noble lord: I thought it was a fault, but knew it not; Yet did repent me, after more advice; For testimony whereof, one in the prison, That should by private order else have died, I have reserved alive. DUKE VINCENTIO What's he? Provost His name is Barnardine. DUKE VINCENTIO I would thou hadst done so by Claudio. Go fetch him hither; let me look upon him. [Exit Provost] ESCALUS I am sorry, one so learned and so wise As you, Lord Angelo, have still appear'd, Should slip so grossly, both in the heat of blood. And lack of temper'd judgment afterward. ANGELO I am sorry that such sorrow I procure: And so deep sticks it in my penitent heart That I crave death more willingly than mercy; 'Tis my deserving, and I do entreat it. [Re-enter Provost, with BARNARDINE, CLAUDIO muffled, and JULIET] DUKE VINCENTIO Which is that Barnardine? Provost This, my lord. DUKE VINCENTIO There was a friar told me of this man. Sirrah, thou art said to have a stubborn soul. That apprehends no further than this world, And squarest thy life according. Thou'rt condemn'd: But, for those earthly faults, I quit them all; And pray thee take this mercy to provide For better times to come. Friar, advise him; I leave him to your hand. What muffled fellow's that? Provost This is another prisoner that I saved. Who should have died when Claudio lost his head; As like almost to Claudio as himself. [Unmuffles CLAUDIO] DUKE VINCENTIO [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: but fitter time for that. By this Lord Angelo perceives he's safe; Methinks I see a quickening in his eye. Well, Angelo, your evil quits you well: Look that you love your wife; her worth worth yours. I find an apt remission in myself; And yet here's one in place I cannot pardon. [To LUCIO] You, sirrah, that knew me for a fool, a coward, One all of luxury, an ass, a madman; Wherein have I so deserved of you, That you extol me thus? LUCIO 'Faith, my lord. I spoke it but according to the trick. If you will hang me for it, you may; but I had rather it would please you I might be whipt. DUKE VINCENTIO Whipt first, sir, and hanged after. Proclaim it, provost, round about the city. Is any woman wrong'd by this lewd fellow, As I have heard him swear himself there's one Whom he begot with child, let her appear, And he shall marry her: the nuptial finish'd, Let him be whipt and hang'd. LUCIO I beseech your highness, do not marry me to a whore. Your highness said even now, I made you a duke: good my lord, do not recompense me in making me a cuckold. DUKE VINCENTIO Upon mine honour, thou shalt marry her. Thy slanders I forgive; and therewithal Remit thy other forfeits. Take him to prison; And see our pleasure herein executed. LUCIO Marrying a punk, my lord, is pressing to death, whipping, and hanging. DUKE VINCENTIO Slandering a prince deserves it. [Exit Officers with LUCIO] She, Claudio, that you wrong'd, look you restore. Joy to you, Mariana! Love her, Angelo: I have confess'd her and I know her virtue. Thanks, good friend Escalus, for thy much goodness: There's more behind that is more gratulate. Thanks, provost, for thy care and secrecy: We shill employ thee in a worthier place. Forgive him, Angelo, that brought you home The head of Ragozine for Claudio's: The offence pardons itself. Dear Isabel, I have a motion much imports your good; Whereto if you'll a willing ear incline, What's mine is yours and what is yours is mine. So, bring us to our palace; where we'll show What's yet behind, that's meet you all should know. [Exeunt] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL DRAMATIS PERSONAE KING OF FRANCE (KING:) DUKE OF FLORENCE (DUKE:) BERTRAM Count of Rousillon. LAFEU an old lord. PAROLLES a follower of Bertram. Steward | | servants to the Countess of Rousillon. Clown | A Page. (Page:) COUNTESS OF ROUSILLON mother to Bertram. (COUNTESS:) HELENA a gentlewoman protected by the Countess. An old Widow of Florence. (Widow:) DIANA daughter to the Widow. VIOLENTA | | neighbours and friends to the Widow. MARIANA | Lords, Officers, Soldiers, &c., French and Florentine. (First Lord:) (Second Lord:) (Fourth Lord:) (First Gentleman:) (Second Gentleman:) (First Soldier:) (Gentleman:) SCENE Rousillon; Paris; Florence; Marseilles. ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL ACT I SCENE I Rousillon. The COUNT's palace. [Enter BERTRAM, the COUNTESS of Rousillon, HELENA, and LAFEU, all in black] COUNTESS In delivering my son from me, I bury a second husband. BERTRAM And I in going, madam, weep o'er my father's death anew: but I must attend his majesty's command, to whom I am now in ward, evermore in subjection. LAFEU You shall find of the king a husband, madam; you, sir, a father: he that so generally is at all times good must of necessity hold his virtue to you; whose worthiness would stir it up where it wanted rather than lack it where there is such abundance. COUNTESS What hope is there of his majesty's amendment? LAFEU He hath abandoned his physicians, madam; under whose practises he hath persecuted time with hope, and finds no other advantage in the process but only the losing of hope by time. COUNTESS This young gentlewoman had a father,--O, that 'had'! how sad a passage 'tis!--whose skill was almost as great as his honesty; had it stretched so far, would have made nature immortal, and death should have play for lack of work. Would, for the king's sake, he were living! I think it would be the death of the king's disease. LAFEU How called you the man you speak of, madam? COUNTESS He was famous, sir, in his profession, and it was his great right to be so: Gerard de Narbon. LAFEU He was excellent indeed, madam: the king very lately spoke of him admiringly and mourningly: he was skilful enough to have lived still, if knowledge could be set up against mortality. BERTRAM What is it, my good lord, the king languishes of? LAFEU A fistula, my lord. BERTRAM I heard not of it before. LAFEU I would it were not notorious. Was this gentlewoman the daughter of Gerard de Narbon? COUNTESS His sole child, my lord, and bequeathed to my overlooking. I have those hopes of her good that her education promises; her dispositions she inherits, which makes fair gifts fairer; for where an unclean mind carries virtuous qualities, there commendations go with pity; they are virtues and traitors too; in her they are the better for their simpleness; she derives her honesty and achieves her goodness. LAFEU Your commendations, madam, get from her tears. COUNTESS 'Tis the best brine a maiden can season her praise in. The remembrance of her father never approaches her heart but the tyranny of her sorrows takes all livelihood from her cheek. No more of this, Helena; go to, no more; lest it be rather thought you affect a sorrow than have it. HELENA I do affect a sorrow indeed, but I have it too. LAFEU Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead, excessive grief the enemy to the living. COUNTESS If the living be enemy to the grief, the excess makes it soon mortal. BERTRAM Madam, I desire your holy wishes. LAFEU How understand we that? COUNTESS Be thou blest, Bertram, and succeed thy father In manners, as in shape! thy blood and virtue Contend for empire in thee, and thy goodness Share with thy birthright! Love all, trust a few, Do wrong to none: be able for thine enemy Rather in power than use, and keep thy friend Under thy own life's key: be cheque'd for silence, But never tax'd for speech. What heaven more will, That thee may furnish and my prayers pluck down, Fall on thy head! Farewell, my lord; 'Tis an unseason'd courtier; good my lord, Advise him. LAFEU He cannot want the best That shall attend his love. COUNTESS Heaven bless him! Farewell, Bertram. [Exit] BERTRAM [To HELENA] The best wishes that can be forged in your thoughts be servants to you! Be comfortable to my mother, your mistress, and make much of her. LAFEU Farewell, pretty lady: you must hold the credit of your father. [Exeunt BERTRAM and LAFEU] HELENA O, were that all! I think not on my father; And these great tears grace his remembrance more Than those I shed for him. What was he like? I have forgot him: my imagination Carries no favour in't but Bertram's. I am undone: there is no living, none, If Bertram be away. 'Twere all one That I should love a bright particular star And think to wed it, he is so above me: In his bright radiance and collateral light Must I be comforted, not in his sphere. The ambition in my love thus plagues itself: The hind that would be mated by the lion Must die for love. 'Twas pretty, though plague, To see him every hour; to sit and draw His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls, In our heart's table; heart too capable Of every line and trick of his sweet favour: But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy Must sanctify his reliques. Who comes here? [Enter PAROLLES] [Aside] One that goes with him: I love him for his sake; And yet I know him a notorious liar, Think him a great way fool, solely a coward; Yet these fixed evils sit so fit in him, That they take place, when virtue's steely bones Look bleak i' the cold wind: withal, full oft we see Cold wisdom waiting on superfluous folly. PAROLLES Save you, fair queen! HELENA And you, monarch! PAROLLES No. HELENA And no. PAROLLES Are you meditating on virginity? HELENA Ay. You have some stain of soldier in you: let me ask you a question. Man is enemy to virginity; how may we barricado it against him? PAROLLES Keep him out. HELENA But he assails; and our virginity, though valiant, in the defence yet is weak: unfold to us some warlike resistance. PAROLLES There is none: man, sitting down before you, will undermine you and blow you up. HELENA Bless our poor virginity from underminers and blowers up! Is there no military policy, how virgins might blow up men? PAROLLES Virginity being blown down, man will quicklier be blown up: marry, in blowing him down again, with the breach yourselves made, you lose your city. It is not politic in the commonwealth of nature to preserve virginity. Loss of virginity is rational increase and there was never virgin got till virginity was first lost. That you were made of is metal to make virgins. Virginity by being once lost may be ten times found; by being ever kept, it is ever lost: 'tis too cold a companion; away with 't! HELENA I will stand for 't a little, though therefore I die a virgin. PAROLLES There's little can be said in 't; 'tis against the rule of nature. To speak on the part of virginity, is to accuse your mothers; which is most infallible disobedience. He that hangs himself is a virgin: virginity murders itself and should be buried in highways out of all sanctified limit, as a desperate offendress against nature. Virginity breeds mites, much like a cheese; consumes itself to the very paring, and so dies with feeding his own stomach. Besides, virginity is peevish, proud, idle, made of self-love, which is the most inhibited sin in the canon. Keep it not; you cannot choose but loose by't: out with 't! within ten year it will make itself ten, which is a goodly increase; and the principal itself not much the worse: away with 't! HELENA How might one do, sir, to lose it to her own liking? PAROLLES Let me see: marry, ill, to like him that ne'er it likes. 'Tis a commodity will lose the gloss with lying; the longer kept, the less worth: off with 't while 'tis vendible; answer the time of request. Virginity, like an old courtier, wears her cap out of fashion: richly suited, but unsuitable: just like the brooch and the tooth-pick, which wear not now. Your date is better in your pie and your porridge than in your cheek; and your virginity, your old virginity, is like one of our French withered pears, it looks ill, it eats drily; marry, 'tis a withered pear; it was formerly better; marry, yet 'tis a withered pear: will you anything with it? HELENA Not my virginity yet [ ] There shall your master have a thousand loves, A mother and a mistress and a friend, A phoenix, captain and an enemy, A guide, a goddess, and a sovereign, A counsellor, a traitress, and a dear; His humble ambition, proud humility, His jarring concord, and his discord dulcet, His faith, his sweet disaster; with a world Of pretty, fond, adoptious christendoms, That blinking Cupid gossips. Now shall he-- I know not what he shall. God send him well! The court's a learning place, and he is one-- PAROLLES What one, i' faith? HELENA That I wish well. 'Tis pity-- PAROLLES What's pity? HELENA That wishing well had not a body in't, Which might be felt; that we, the poorer born, Whose baser stars do shut us up in wishes, Might with effects of them follow our friends, And show what we alone must think, which never Return us thanks. [Enter Page] Page Monsieur Parolles, my lord calls for you. [Exit] PAROLLES Little Helen, farewell; if I can remember thee, I will think of thee at court. HELENA Monsieur Parolles, you were born under a charitable star. PAROLLES Under Mars, I. HELENA I especially think, under Mars. PAROLLES Why under Mars? HELENA The wars have so kept you under that you must needs be born under Mars. PAROLLES When he was predominant. HELENA When he was retrograde, I think, rather. PAROLLES Why think you so? HELENA You go so much backward when you fight. PAROLLES That's for advantage. HELENA So is running away, when fear proposes the safety; but the composition that your valour and fear makes in you is a virtue of a good wing, and I like the wear well. PAROLLES I am so full of businesses, I cannot answer thee acutely. 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: farewell. When thou hast leisure, say thy prayers; when thou hast none, remember thy friends; get thee a good husband, and use him as he uses thee; so, farewell. [Exit] HELENA Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, Which we ascribe to heaven: the fated sky Gives us free scope, only doth backward pull Our slow designs when we ourselves are dull. What power is it which mounts my love so high, That makes me see, and cannot feed mine eye? The mightiest space in fortune nature brings To join like likes and kiss like native things. Impossible be strange attempts to those That weigh their pains in sense and do suppose What hath been cannot be: who ever strove So show her merit, that did miss her love? The king's disease--my project may deceive me, But my intents are fix'd and will not leave me. [Exit] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL ACT I SCENE II Paris. The KING's palace. [Flourish of cornets. Enter the KING of France, with letters, and divers Attendants] KING The Florentines and Senoys are by the ears; Have fought with equal fortune and continue A braving war. First Lord So 'tis reported, sir. KING Nay, 'tis most credible; we here received it A certainty, vouch'd from our cousin Austria, With caution that the Florentine will move us For speedy aid; wherein our dearest friend Prejudicates the business and would seem To have us make denial. First Lord His love and wisdom, Approved so to your majesty, may plead For amplest credence. KING 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. Second Lord It well may serve A nursery to our gentry, who are sick For breathing and exploit. KING What's he comes here? [Enter BERTRAM, LAFEU, and PAROLLES] First Lord It is the Count Rousillon, my good lord, Young Bertram. KING Youth, thou bear'st thy father's face; Frank nature, rather curious than in haste, Hath well composed thee. Thy father's moral parts Mayst thou inherit too! Welcome to Paris. BERTRAM My thanks and duty are your majesty's. KING I would I had that corporal soundness now, As when thy father and myself in friendship First tried our soldiership! He did look far Into the service of the time and was Discipled of the bravest: he lasted long; But on us both did haggish age steal on And wore us out of act. It much repairs me To talk of your good father. 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; So like a courtier, contempt nor bitterness Were in his pride or sharpness; if they were, His equal had awaked them, and his honour, Clock to itself, knew the true minute when Exception bid him speak, and at this time His tongue obey'd his hand: who were below him He used 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. Such a man Might be a copy to these younger times; Which, follow'd well, would demonstrate them now But goers backward. BERTRAM His good remembrance, sir, Lies richer in your thoughts than on his tomb; So in approof lives not his epitaph As in your royal speech. KING 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; I after him do after him wish too, Since I nor wax nor honey can bring home, I quickly were dissolved from my hive, To give some labourers room. Second Lord You are loved, sir: They that least lend it you shall lack you first. KING I fill a place, I know't. How long is't, count, Since the physician at your father's died? He was much famed. BERTRAM Some six months since, my lord. KING If he were living, I would try him yet. Lend me an arm; the rest have worn me out With several applications; nature and sickness Debate it at their leisure. Welcome, count; My son's no dearer. BERTRAM Thank your majesty. [Exeunt. Flourish] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL ACT I SCENE III Rousillon. The COUNT's palace. [Enter COUNTESS, Steward, and Clown] COUNTESS I will now hear; what say you of this gentlewoman? Steward 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. COUNTESS What does this knave here? Get you gone, sirrah: 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. Clown 'Tis not unknown to you, madam, I am a poor fellow. COUNTESS Well, sir. Clown No, madam, 'tis not so well that I am poor, though many of the rich are damned: 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. COUNTESS Wilt thou needs be a beggar? Clown I do beg your good will in this case. COUNTESS In what case? Clown In Isbel's case and mine own. 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 barnes are blessings. COUNTESS Tell me thy reason why thou wilt marry. Clown My poor body, madam, requires it: I am driven on by the flesh; and he must needs go that the devil drives. COUNTESS Is this all your worship's reason? Clown Faith, madam, I have other holy reasons such as they are. COUNTESS May the world know them? Clown I have been, madam, a wicked creature, as you and all flesh and blood are; and, indeed, I do marry that I may repent. COUNTESS Thy marriage, sooner than thy wickedness. Clown I am out o' friends, madam; and I hope to have friends for my wife's sake. COUNTESS Such friends are thine enemies, knave. Clown You're shallow, madam, in great friends; for the knaves come to do that for me which I am aweary of. He that ears my land spares my team and gives me leave to in the crop; if I be his cuckold, he's my drudge: he that comforts my wife is the cherisher of my flesh and blood; he that cherishes my flesh and blood loves my flesh and blood; he that loves my flesh and blood is my friend: ergo, he that kisses my wife is my friend. If men could be contented to be what they are, there were no fear in marriage; for young Charbon the Puritan and old Poysam the Papist, howsome'er their hearts are severed in religion, their heads are both one; they may jowl horns together, like any deer i' the herd. COUNTESS Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouthed and calumnious knave? Clown A prophet I, madam; and I speak the truth the next way: For I the ballad will repeat, Which men full true shall find; Your marriage comes by destiny, Your cuckoo sings by kind. COUNTESS Get you gone, sir; I'll talk with you more anon. Steward May it please you, madam, that he bid Helen come to you: of her I am to speak. COUNTESS Sirrah, tell my gentlewoman I would speak with her; Helen, I mean. Clown 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; Among nine bad if one be good, Among nine bad if one be good, There's yet one good in ten. COUNTESS What, one good in ten? you corrupt the song, sirrah. Clown One good woman in ten, madam; which is a purifying o' the song: would God would serve the world so all the year! we'ld 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 but one every blazing star, or at an earthquake, 'twould mend the lottery well: a man may draw his heart out, ere a' pluck one. COUNTESS You'll be gone, sir knave, and do as I command you. Clown 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. I am going, forsooth: the business is for Helen to come hither. [Exit] COUNTESS Well, now. Steward I know, madam, you love your gentlewoman entirely. COUNTESS Faith, I do: her father bequeathed her to me; and she herself, without other advantage, may lawfully make title to as much love as she finds: there is more owing her than is paid; and more shall be paid her than she'll demand. Steward Madam, I was very late more near her than I think she wished me: alone she was, and did communicate to herself her own words to her own ears; she thought, I dare vow for her, they touched not any stranger sense. Her matter was, she loved your son: 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; Dian no queen of virgins, that would suffer her poor knight surprised, without rescue in the first assault or ransom afterward. This she delivered in the most bitter touch of sorrow that e'er I heard virgin exclaim in: which I held my duty speedily to acquaint you withal; sithence, in the loss that may happen, it concerns you something to know it. COUNTESS You have discharged this honestly; keep it to yourself: many likelihoods informed me of this before, which hung so tottering in the balance that I could neither believe nor misdoubt. Pray you, leave me: stall this in your bosom; and I thank you for your honest care: I will speak with you further anon. [Exit Steward] [Enter HELENA] Even so it was with me when I was young: If ever we are nature's, these are ours; this thorn Doth to our rose of youth rightly belong; Our blood to us, this to our blood is born; It is the show and seal of nature's truth, Where love's strong passion is impress'd in youth: By our remembrances of days foregone, Such were our faults, or then we thought them none. Her eye is sick on't: I observe her now. HELENA What is your pleasure, madam? COUNTESS You know, Helen, I am a mother to you. HELENA Mine honourable mistress. COUNTESS Nay, a mother: Why not a mother? When I said 'a mother,' Methought you saw a serpent: what's in 'mother,' That you start at it? I say, I am your mother; And put you in the catalogue of those That were enwombed mine: 'tis often seen Adoption strives with nature and choice breeds A native slip to us from foreign seeds: You ne'er oppress'd me with a mother's groan, Yet I express to you a mother's care: God's mercy, maiden! does it curd thy blood To say I am thy mother? What's the matter, That this distemper'd messenger of wet, The many-colour'd Iris, rounds thine eye? Why? that you are my daughter? HELENA That I am not. COUNTESS I say, I am your mother. HELENA Pardon, madam; The Count Rousillon cannot be my brother: I am from humble, he from honour'd name; No note upon my parents, his all noble: My master, my dear lord he is; and I His servant live, and will his vassal die: He must not be my brother. COUNTESS Nor I your mother? HELENA You are my mother, madam; would you were,-- So that my lord your son were not my brother,-- Indeed my mother! or were you both our mothers, I care no more for than I do for heaven, So I were not his sister. Can't no other, But, I your daughter, he must be my brother? COUNTESS Yes, Helen, you might be my daughter-in-law: God shield you mean it not! daughter and mother So strive upon your pulse. What, pale again? My fear hath catch'd your fondness: now I see The mystery of your loneliness, and find Your salt tears' head: now to all sense 'tis gross You love my son; invention is ashamed, Against the proclamation of thy passion, To say thou dost not: therefore tell me true; But tell me then, 'tis so; for, look thy cheeks Confess it, th' one to th' other; and thine eyes See it so grossly shown in thy behaviors That in their kind they speak it: only sin And hellish obstinacy tie thy tongue, That truth should be suspected. Speak, is't so? If it be so, you have wound a goodly clew; If it be not, forswear't: howe'er, I charge thee, As heaven shall work in me for thine avail, Tell me truly. HELENA Good madam, pardon me! COUNTESS Do you love my son? HELENA Your pardon, noble mistress! COUNTESS Love you my son? HELENA Do not you love him, madam? COUNTESS Go not about; my love hath in't a bond, Whereof the world takes note: come, come, disclose The state of your affection; for your passions Have to the full appeach'd. HELENA Then, I confess, Here on my knee, before high heaven and you, That before you, and next unto high heaven, I love your son. My friends were poor, but honest; so's my love: Be not offended; for it hurts not him That he is loved of me: I follow him not By any token of presumptuous suit; Nor would I have him till I do deserve him; Yet never know how that desert should be. I know I love in vain, strive against hope; Yet in this captious and intenible sieve I still pour in the waters of my love And lack not to lose still: thus, Indian-like, Religious in mine error, I adore The sun, that looks upon his worshipper, But knows of him no more. My dearest madam, Let not your hate encounter with my love For loving where you do: but if yourself, Whose aged honour cites a virtuous youth, Did ever in so true a flame of liking Wish chastely and love dearly, that your Dian Was both herself and love: O, then, give pity To her, whose state is such that cannot choose But lend and give where she is sure to lose; That seeks not to find that her search implies, But riddle-like lives sweetly where she dies! COUNTESS Had you not lately an intent,--speak truly,-- To go to Paris? HELENA Madam, I had. COUNTESS Wherefore? tell true. HELENA I will tell truth; by grace itself I swear. You know my father left me some prescriptions Of rare and proved 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, approved, set down, To cure the desperate languishings whereof The king is render'd lost. COUNTESS This was your motive For Paris, was it? speak. HELENA 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. COUNTESS But think you, Helen, If you should tender your supposed aid, He would receive it? he and his physicians Are of a mind; he, that they cannot help him, They, that they cannot help: how shall they credit A poor unlearned virgin, when the schools, Embowell'd of their doctrine, have left off The danger to itself? HELENA There's something in't, More than my father's skill, which was the greatest Of his profession, that his good receipt Shall for my legacy be sanctified By the luckiest stars in heaven: and, would your honour But give me leave to try success, I'ld venture The well-lost life of mine on his grace's cure By such a day and hour. COUNTESS Dost thou believe't? HELENA Ay, madam, knowingly. COUNTESS Why, Helen, thou shalt have my leave and love, Means and attendants and my loving greetings To those of mine in court: I'll stay at home And pray God's blessing into thy attempt: Be gone to-morrow; and be sure of this, What I can help thee to thou shalt not miss. [Exeunt] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL ACT II SCENE I Paris. The KING's palace. [Flourish of cornets. Enter the KING, attended with divers young Lords taking leave for the Florentine war; BERTRAM, and PAROLLES] KING Farewell, young lords; these warlike principles Do not throw from you: and you, my lords, farewell: Share the advice betwixt you; if both gain, all The gift doth stretch itself as 'tis received, And is enough for both. First Lord 'Tis our hope, sir, After well enter'd soldiers, to return And find your grace in health. KING No, no, it cannot be; and yet my heart Will not confess he owes the malady That doth my life besiege. Farewell, young lords; Whether I live or die, be you the sons Of worthy Frenchmen: let higher Italy,-- Those bated that inherit but the fall Of the last monarchy,--see that you come Not to woo honour, but to wed it; when The bravest questant shrinks, find what you seek, That fame may cry you loud: I say, farewell. Second Lord Health, at your bidding, serve your majesty! KING Those girls of Italy, take heed of them: They say, our French lack language to deny, If they demand: beware of being captives, Before you serve. Both Our hearts receive your warnings. KING Farewell. Come hither to me. [Exit, attended] First Lord O, my sweet lord, that you will stay behind us! PAROLLES 'Tis not his fault, the spark. Second Lord O, 'tis brave wars! PAROLLES Most admirable: I have seen those wars. BERTRAM I am commanded here, and kept a coil with 'Too young' and 'the next year' and ''tis too early.' PAROLLES An thy mind stand to't, boy, steal away bravely. BERTRAM I shall stay here the forehorse to a smock, Creaking my shoes on the plain masonry, Till honour be bought up and no sword worn But one to dance with! By heaven, I'll steal away. First Lord There's honour in the theft. PAROLLES Commit it, count. Second Lord I am your accessary; and so, farewell. BERTRAM I grow to you, and our parting is a tortured body. First Lord Farewell, captain. Second Lord Sweet Monsieur Parolles! PAROLLES Noble heroes, my sword and yours are kin. Good sparks and lustrous, a word, good metals: you shall find in the regiment of the Spinii one Captain Spurio, with his cicatrice, an emblem of war, here on his sinister cheek; it was this very sword entrenched it: say to him, I live; and observe his reports for me. First Lord We shall, noble captain. [Exeunt Lords] PAROLLES Mars dote on you for his novices! what will ye do? BERTRAM Stay: the king. [Re-enter KING. BERTRAM and PAROLLES retire] PAROLLES [To BERTRAM] Use a more spacious ceremony to the noble lords; you have restrained 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 received star; and though the devil lead the measure, such are to be followed: after them, and take a more dilated farewell. BERTRAM And I will do so. PAROLLES Worthy fellows; and like to prove most sinewy sword-men. [Exeunt BERTRAM and PAROLLES] [Enter LAFEU] LAFEU [Kneeling] Pardon, my lord, for me and for my tidings. KING I'll fee thee to stand up. LAFEU Then here's a man stands, that has brought his pardon. I would you had kneel'd, my lord, to ask me mercy, And that at my bidding you could so stand up. KING I would I had; so I had broke thy pate, And ask'd thee mercy for't. LAFEU Good faith, across: but, my good lord 'tis thus; Will you be cured of your infirmity? KING No. LAFEU O, will you eat no grapes, my royal fox? Yes, but you will my noble grapes, an if My royal fox could reach them: I have seen a medicine That's able to breathe life into a stone, Quicken a rock, and make you dance canary With spritely fire and motion; whose simple touch, Is powerful to araise King Pepin, nay, To give great Charlemain a pen in's hand, And write to her a love-line. KING What 'her' is this? LAFEU Why, Doctor She: my lord, there's one arrived, If you will see her: now, by my faith and honour, If seriously I may convey my thoughts In this my light deliverance, I have spoke With one that, in her sex, her years, profession, Wisdom and constancy, hath amazed me more Than I dare blame my weakness: will you see her For that is her demand, and know her business? That done, laugh well at me. KING Now, good Lafeu, Bring in the admiration; that we with thee May spend our wonder too, or take off thine By wondering how thou took'st it. LAFEU Nay, I'll fit you, And not be all day neither. [Exit] KING Thus he his special nothing ever prologues. [Re-enter LAFEU, with HELENA] LAFEU Nay, come your ways. KING This haste hath wings indeed. LAFEU Nay, come your ways: This is his majesty; say your mind to him: A traitor you do look like; but such traitors His majesty seldom fears: I am Cressid's uncle, That dare leave two together; fare you well. [Exit] KING Now, fair one, does your business follow us? HELENA Ay, my good lord. Gerard de Narbon was my father; In what he did profess, well found. KING I knew him. HELENA The rather will I spare my praises towards him: Knowing him is enough. On's bed of death Many receipts he gave me: chiefly one. Which, as the dearest issue of his practise, And of his old experience the oily darling, He bade me store up, as a triple eye, Safer than mine own two, more dear; I have so; And hearing your high majesty is touch'd With that malignant cause wherein the honour Of my dear father's gift stands chief in power, I come to tender it and my appliance With all bound humbleness. KING We thank you, maiden; But may not be so credulous of cure, When our most learned doctors leave us and The congregated college have concluded That labouring art can never ransom nature From her inaidible estate; I say we must not So stain our judgment, or corrupt our hope, To prostitute our past-cure malady To empirics, or to dissever so Our great self and our credit, to esteem A senseless help when help past sense we deem. HELENA My duty then shall pay me for my pains: I will no more enforce mine office on you. Humbly entreating from your royal thoughts A modest one, to bear me back a again. KING I cannot give thee less, to be call'd grateful: Thou thought'st to help me; and such thanks I give As one near death to those that wish him live: But what at full I know, thou know'st no part, I knowing all my peril, thou no art. HELENA What I can do can do no hurt to try, Since you set up your rest 'gainst remedy. He that of greatest works is finisher Oft does them by the weakest minister: So holy writ in babes hath judgment shown, When judges have been babes; great floods have flown From simple sources, and great seas have dried When miracles have by the greatest been denied. Oft expectation fails and most oft there Where most it promises, and oft it hits Where hope is coldest and despair most fits. KING I must not hear thee; fare thee well, kind maid; Thy pains not used must by thyself be paid: Proffers not took reap thanks for their reward. HELENA Inspired merit so by breath is barr'd: 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. Dear sir, to my endeavours give consent; Of heaven, not me, make an experiment. I am not an impostor that proclaim Myself against the level of mine aim; But know I think and think I know most sure My art is not past power nor you past cure. KING Are thou so confident? within what space Hopest thou my cure? HELENA The great'st grace lending grace Ere twice the horses of the sun shall bring Their fiery torcher his diurnal ring, Ere twice in murk and occidental damp Moist Hesperus hath quench'd his sleepy lamp, Or four and twenty times the pilot's glass Hath told the thievish minutes how they pass, What is infirm from your sound parts shall fly, Health shall live free and sickness freely die. KING Upon thy certainty and confidence What darest thou venture? HELENA Tax of impudence, A strumpet's boldness, a divulged shame Traduced by odious ballads: my maiden's name Sear'd otherwise; nay, worse--if worse--extended With vilest torture let my life be ended. KING 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. Thy life is dear; for all that life can rate Worth name of life in thee hath estimate, Youth, beauty, wisdom, courage, all That happiness and prime can happy call: Thou this to hazard needs must intimate Skill infinite or monstrous desperate. Sweet practiser, thy physic I will try, That ministers thine own death if I die. HELENA If I break time, or flinch in property Of what I spoke, unpitied let me die, And well deserved: not helping, death's my fee; But, if I help, what do you promise me? KING Make thy demand. HELENA But will you make it even? KING Ay, by my sceptre and my hopes of heaven. HELENA Then shalt thou give me with thy kingly hand What husband in thy power I will command: 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. KING Here is my hand; the premises observed, Thy will by my performance shall be served: So make the choice of thy own time, for I, Thy resolved patient, on thee still rely. More should I question thee, and more I must, Though more to know could not be more to trust, From whence thou camest, how tended on: but rest Unquestion'd welcome and undoubted blest. Give me some help here, ho! If thou proceed As high as word, my deed shall match thy meed. [Flourish. Exeunt] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL ACT II SCENE II Rousillon. The COUNT's palace. [Enter COUNTESS and Clown] COUNTESS Come on, sir; I shall now put you to the height of your breeding. Clown I will show myself highly fed and lowly taught: I know my business is but to the court. COUNTESS To the court! why, what place make you special, when you put off that with such contempt? But to the court! Clown Truly, madam, if God have lent a man any manners, he may easily put it off at court: 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. COUNTESS Marry, that's a bountiful answer that fits all questions. Clown It is like a barber's chair that fits all buttocks, the pin-buttock, the quatch-buttock, the brawn buttock, or any buttock. COUNTESS Will your answer serve fit to all questions? Clown As fit as ten groats is for the hand of an attorney, as your French crown for your taffeta punk, as Tib's rush for Tom's forefinger, as a pancake for Shrove Tuesday, a morris for May-day, as the nail to his hole, the cuckold to his horn, as a scolding queen to a wrangling knave, as the nun's lip to the friar's mouth, nay, as the pudding to his skin. COUNTESS Have you, I say, an answer of such fitness for all questions? Clown From below your duke to beneath your constable, it will fit any question. COUNTESS It must be an answer of most monstrous size that must fit all demands. Clown But a trifle neither, in good faith, if the learned should speak truth of it: here it is, and all that belongs to't. Ask me if I am a courtier: it shall do you no harm to learn. COUNTESS To be young again, if we could: I will be a fool in question, hoping to be the wiser by your answer. I pray you, sir, are you a courtier? Clown O Lord, sir! There's a simple putting off. More, more, a hundred of them. COUNTESS Sir, I am a poor friend of yours, that loves you. Clown O Lord, sir! Thick, thick, spare not me. COUNTESS I think, sir, you can eat none of this homely meat. Clown O Lord, sir! Nay, put me to't, I warrant you. COUNTESS You were lately whipped, sir, as I think. Clown O Lord, sir! spare not me. COUNTESS Do you cry, 'O Lord, sir!' at your whipping, and 'spare not me?' Indeed your 'O Lord, sir!' is very sequent to your whipping: you would answer very well to a whipping, if you were but bound to't. Clown I ne'er had worse luck in my life in my 'O Lord, sir!' I see things may serve long, but not serve ever. COUNTESS I play the noble housewife with the time To entertain't so merrily with a fool. Clown O Lord, sir! why, there't serves well again. COUNTESS An end, sir; to your business. Give Helen this, And urge her to a present answer back: Commend me to my kinsmen and my son: This is not much. Clown Not much commendation to them. COUNTESS Not much employment for you: you understand me? Clown Most fruitfully: I am there before my legs. COUNTESS Haste you again. [Exeunt severally] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL ACT II SCENE III Paris. The KING's palace. [Enter BERTRAM, LAFEU, and PAROLLES] LAFEU They say miracles are past; and we have our philosophical persons, to make modern and familiar, things supernatural and causeless. Hence is it that we make trifles of terrors, ensconcing ourselves into seeming knowledge, when we should submit ourselves to an unknown fear. PAROLLES Why, 'tis the rarest argument of wonder that hath shot out in our latter times. BERTRAM And so 'tis. LAFEU To be relinquish'd of the artists,-- PAROLLES So I say. LAFEU Both of Galen and Paracelsus. PAROLLES So I say. LAFEU Of all the learned and authentic fellows,-- PAROLLES Right; so I say. LAFEU That gave him out incurable,-- PAROLLES Why, there 'tis; so say I too. LAFEU Not to be helped,-- PAROLLES Right; as 'twere, a man assured of a-- LAFEU Uncertain life, and sure death. PAROLLES Just, you say well; so would I have said. LAFEU I may truly say, it is a novelty to the world. PAROLLES It is, indeed: if you will have it in showing, you shall read it in--what do you call there? LAFEU A showing of a heavenly effect in an earthly actor. PAROLLES That's it; I would have said the very same. LAFEU Why, your dolphin is not lustier: 'fore me, I speak in respect-- PAROLLES Nay, 'tis strange, 'tis very strange, that is the brief and the tedious of it; and he's of a most facinerious spirit that will not acknowledge it to be the-- LAFEU Very hand of heaven. PAROLLES Ay, so I say. LAFEU In a most weak-- [pausing] and debile minister, great power, great transcendence: which should, indeed, give us a further use to be made than alone the recovery of the king, as to be-- [pausing] generally thankful. PAROLLES I would have said it; you say well. Here comes the king. [Enter KING, HELENA, and Attendants. LAFEU and PAROLLES retire] LAFEU Lustig, as the Dutchman says: I'll like a maid the better, whilst I have a tooth in my head: why, he's able to lead her a coranto. PAROLLES Mort du vinaigre! is not this Helen? LAFEU 'Fore God, I think so. KING Go, call before me all the lords in court. Sit, my preserver, by thy patient's side; And with this healthful hand, whose banish'd sense Thou hast repeal'd, a second time receive The confirmation of my promised gift, Which but attends thy naming. [Enter three or four Lords] Fair maid, send forth thine eye: this youthful parcel Of noble bachelors stand at my bestowing, O'er whom both sovereign power and father's voice I have to use: thy frank election make; Thou hast power to choose, and they none to forsake. HELENA To each of you one fair and virtuous mistress Fall, when Love please! marry, to each, but one! LAFEU I'ld give bay Curtal and his furniture, My mouth no more were broken than these boys', And writ as little beard. KING Peruse them well: Not one of those but had a noble father. HELENA Gentlemen, Heaven hath through me restored the king to health. All We understand it, and thank heaven for you. HELENA I am a simple maid, and therein wealthiest, That I protest I simply am a maid. Please it your majesty, I have done already: The blushes in my cheeks thus whisper me, 'We blush that thou shouldst choose; but, be refused, Let the white death sit on thy cheek for ever; We'll ne'er come there again.' KING Make choice; and, see, Who shuns thy love shuns all his love in me. HELENA Now, Dian, from thy altar do I fly, And to imperial Love, that god most high, Do my sighs stream. Sir, will you hear my suit? First Lord And grant it. HELENA Thanks, sir; all the rest is mute. LAFEU I had rather be in this choice than throw ames-ace for my life. HELENA The honour, sir, that flames in your fair eyes, Before I speak, too threateningly replies: Love make your fortunes twenty times above Her that so wishes and her humble love! Second Lord No better, if you please. HELENA My wish receive, Which great Love grant! and so, I take my leave. LAFEU Do all they deny her? An they were sons of mine, I'd have them whipped; or I would send them to the Turk, to make eunuchs of. HELENA Be not afraid that I your hand should take; I'll never do you wrong for your own sake: Blessing upon your vows! and in your bed Find fairer fortune, if you ever wed! LAFEU These boys are boys of ice, they'll none have her: sure, they are bastards to the English; the French ne'er got 'em. HELENA You are too young, too happy, and too good, To make yourself a son out of my blood. Fourth Lord Fair one, I think not so. LAFEU 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. HELENA [To BERTRAM] I dare not say I take you; but I give Me and my service, ever whilst I live, Into your guiding power. This is the man. KING Why, then, young Bertram, take her; she's thy wife. BERTRAM My wife, my liege! I shall beseech your highness, In such a business give me leave to use The help of mine own eyes. KING Know'st thou not, Bertram, What she has done for me? BERTRAM Yes, my good lord; But never hope to know why I should marry her. KING Thou know'st she has raised me from my sickly bed. BERTRAM But follows it, my lord, to bring me down Must answer for your raising? I know her well: She had her breeding at my father's charge. A poor physician's daughter my wife! Disdain Rather corrupt me ever! KING 'Tis only title thou disdain'st in her, the which I can build up. Strange is it that our bloods, Of colour, weight, and heat, pour'd all together, Would quite confound distinction, yet stand off In differences so mighty. If she be All that is virtuous, save what thou dislikest, A poor physician's daughter, thou dislikest Of virtue for the name: but do not so: From lowest place when virtuous things proceed, The place is dignified by the doer's deed: Where great additions swell's, and virtue none, It is a dropsied honour. Good alone Is good without a name. Vileness is so: The property by what it is should go, Not by the title. 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: honours thrive, When rather from our acts we them derive Than our foregoers: the mere word's a slave Debosh'd on every tomb, on every grave A lying trophy, and as oft is dumb Where dust and damn'd oblivion is the tomb Of honour'd bones indeed. What should be said? If thou canst like this creature as a maid, I can create the rest: virtue and she Is her own dower; honour and wealth from me. BERTRAM I cannot love her, nor will strive to do't. KING Thou wrong'st thyself, if thou shouldst strive to choose. HELENA That you are well restored, my lord, I'm glad: Let the rest go. KING My honour's at the stake; which to defeat, I must produce my power. Here, take her hand, Proud scornful boy, unworthy this good gift; That dost in vile misprision shackle up My love and her desert; that canst not dream, We, poising us in her defective scale, Shall weigh thee to the beam; that wilt not know, It is in us to plant thine honour where We please to have it grow. Cheque thy contempt: Obey our will, which travails in thy good: Believe not thy disdain, but presently Do thine own fortunes that obedient right Which both thy duty owes and our power claims; Or I will throw thee from my care for ever Into the staggers and the careless lapse Of youth and ignorance; both my revenge and hate Loosing upon thee, in the name of justice, Without all terms of pity. Speak; thine answer. BERTRAM Pardon, my gracious lord; for I submit My fancy to your eyes: when I consider What great creation and what dole of honour Flies where you bid it, I find that she, which late Was in my nobler thoughts most base, is now The praised of the king; who, so ennobled, Is as 'twere born so. KING Take her by the hand, And tell her she is thine: to whom I promise A counterpoise, if not to thy estate A balance more replete. BERTRAM I take her hand. KING Good fortune and the favour of the king Smile upon this contract; whose ceremony Shall seem expedient on the now-born brief, And be perform'd to-night: the solemn feast Shall more attend upon the coming space, Expecting absent friends. As thou lovest her, Thy love's to me religious; else, does err. [Exeunt all but LAFEU and PAROLLES] LAFEU [Advancing] Do you hear, monsieur? a word with you. PAROLLES Your pleasure, sir? LAFEU Your lord and master did well to make his recantation. PAROLLES Recantation! My lord! my master! LAFEU Ay; is it not a language I speak? PAROLLES A most harsh one, and not to be understood without bloody succeeding. My master! LAFEU Are you companion to the Count Rousillon? PAROLLES To any count, to all counts, to what is man. LAFEU To what is count's man: count's master is of another style. PAROLLES You are too old, sir; let it satisfy you, you are too old. LAFEU I must tell thee, sirrah, I write man; to which title age cannot bring thee. PAROLLES What I dare too well do, I dare not do. LAFEU I did think thee, for two ordinaries, to be a pretty wise fellow; thou didst make tolerable vent of thy travel; it might pass: yet the scarfs and the bannerets about thee did manifoldly dissuade me from believing thee a vessel of too great a burthen. I have now found thee; when I lose thee again, I care not: yet art thou good for nothing but taking up; and that thou't scarce worth. PAROLLES Hadst thou not the privilege of antiquity upon thee,-- LAFEU 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. Give me thy hand. PAROLLES My lord, you give me most egregious indignity. LAFEU Ay, with all my heart; and thou art worthy of it. PAROLLES I have not, my lord, deserved it. LAFEU Yes, good faith, every dram of it; and I will not bate thee a scruple. PAROLLES Well, I shall be wiser. LAFEU Even as soon as thou canst, for thou hast to pull at a smack o' the contrary. If ever thou be'st bound in thy scarf and beaten, thou shalt find what it is to be proud of thy bondage. I have a desire to hold my acquaintance with thee, or rather my knowledge, that I may say in the default, he is a man I know. PAROLLES My lord, you do me most insupportable vexation. LAFEU I would it were hell-pains for thy sake, and my poor doing eternal: for doing I am past: as I will by thee, in what motion age will give me leave. [Exit] PAROLLES Well, thou hast a son shall take this disgrace off me; scurvy, old, filthy, scurvy lord! Well, I must be patient; there is no fettering of authority. I'll beat him, by my life, if I can meet him with any convenience, an he were double and double a lord. I'll have no more pity of his age than I would of--I'll beat him, an if I could but meet him again. [Re-enter LAFEU] LAFEU Sirrah, your lord and master's married; there's news for you: you have a new mistress. PAROLLES I most unfeignedly beseech your lordship to make some reservation of your wrongs: he is my good lord: whom I serve above is my master. LAFEU Who? God? PAROLLES Ay, sir. LAFEU The devil it is that's thy master. Why dost thou garter up thy arms o' this fashion? dost make hose of sleeves? do other servants so? Thou wert best set thy lower part where thy nose stands. By mine honour, if I were but two hours younger, I'ld beat thee: methinks, thou art a general offence, and every man should beat thee: I think thou wast created for men to breathe themselves upon thee. PAROLLES This is hard and undeserved measure, my lord. LAFEU Go to, sir; you were beaten in Italy for picking a kernel out of a pomegranate; you are a vagabond and no true traveller: you are more saucy with lords and honourable personages than the commission of your birth and virtue gives you heraldry. You are not worth another word, else I'ld call you knave. I leave you. [Exit] PAROLLES Good, very good; it is so then: good, very good; let it be concealed awhile. [Re-enter BERTRAM] BERTRAM Undone, and forfeited to cares for ever! PAROLLES What's the matter, sweet-heart? BERTRAM Although before the solemn priest I have sworn, I will not bed her. PAROLLES What, what, sweet-heart? BERTRAM O my Parolles, they have married me! I'll to the Tuscan wars, and never bed her. PAROLLES France is a dog-hole, and it no more merits The tread of a man's foot: to the wars! BERTRAM There's letters from my mother: what the import is, I know not yet. PAROLLES Ay, that would be known. To the wars, my boy, to the wars! He wears his honour in a box unseen, That hugs his kicky-wicky here at home, Spending his manly marrow in her arms, Which should sustain the bound and high curvet Of Mars's fiery steed. To other regions France is a stable; we that dwell in't jades; Therefore, to the war! BERTRAM It shall be so: I'll send her to my house, Acquaint my mother with my hate to her, And wherefore I am fled; write to the king That which I durst not speak; his present gift Shall furnish me to those Italian fields, Where noble fellows strike: war is no strife To the dark house and the detested wife. PAROLLES Will this capriccio hold in thee? art sure? BERTRAM Go with me to my chamber, and advise me. I'll send her straight away: to-morrow I'll to the wars, she to her single sorrow. PAROLLES Why, these balls bound; there's noise in it. 'Tis hard: A young man married is a man that's marr'd: Therefore away, and leave her bravely; go: The king has done you wrong: but, hush, 'tis so. [Exeunt] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL ACT II SCENE IV Paris. The KING's palace. [Enter HELENA and Clown] HELENA My mother greets me kindly; is she well? Clown She is not well; but yet she has her health: she's very merry; but yet she is not well: but thanks be given, she's very well and wants nothing i', the world; but yet she is not well. HELENA If she be very well, what does she ail, that she's not very well? Clown Truly, she's very well indeed, but for two things. HELENA What two things? Clown One, that she's not in heaven, whither God send her quickly! the other that she's in earth, from whence God send her quickly! [Enter PAROLLES] PAROLLES Bless you, my fortunate lady! HELENA I hope, sir, I have your good will to have mine own good fortunes. PAROLLES You had my prayers to lead them on; and to keep them on, have them still. O, my knave, how does my old lady? Clown So that you had her wrinkles and I her money, I would she did as you say. PAROLLES Why, I say nothing. Clown Marry, you are the wiser man; for many a man's tongue shakes out his master's undoing: to say nothing, to do nothing, to know nothing, and to have nothing, is to be a great part of your title; which is within a very little of nothing. PAROLLES Away! thou'rt a knave. Clown You should have said, sir, before a knave thou'rt a knave; that's, before me thou'rt a knave: this had been truth, sir. PAROLLES Go to, thou art a witty fool; I have found thee. Clown Did you find me in yourself, sir? or were you taught to find me? The search, sir, was profitable; and much fool may you find in you, even to the world's pleasure and the increase of laughter. PAROLLES A good knave, i' faith, and well fed. Madam, my lord will go away to-night; A very serious business calls on him. 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. HELENA What's his will else? PAROLLES That you will take your instant leave o' the king And make this haste as your own good proceeding, Strengthen'd with what apology you think May make it probable need. HELENA What more commands he? PAROLLES That, having this obtain'd, you presently Attend his further pleasure. HELENA In every thing I wait upon his will. PAROLLES I shall report it so. HELENA I pray you. [Exit PAROLLES] Come, sirrah. [Exeunt] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL ACT II SCENE V Paris. The KING's palace. [Enter LAFEU and BERTRAM] LAFEU But I hope your lordship thinks not him a soldier. BERTRAM Yes, my lord, and of very valiant approof. LAFEU You have it from his own deliverance. BERTRAM And by other warranted testimony. LAFEU Then my dial goes not true: I took this lark for a bunting. BERTRAM I do assure you, my lord, he is very great in knowledge and accordingly valiant. LAFEU I have then sinned against his experience and transgressed against his valour; and my state that way is dangerous, since I cannot yet find in my heart to repent. Here he comes: I pray you, make us friends; I will pursue the amity. [Enter PAROLLES] PAROLLES [To BERTRAM] These things shall be done, sir. LAFEU Pray you, sir, who's his tailor? PAROLLES Sir? LAFEU O, I know him well, I, sir; he, sir, 's a good workman, a very good tailor. BERTRAM [Aside to PAROLLES] Is she gone to the king? PAROLLES She is. BERTRAM Will she away to-night? PAROLLES As you'll have her. BERTRAM I have writ my letters, casketed my treasure, Given order for our horses; and to-night, When I should take possession of the bride, End ere I do begin. LAFEU A good traveller is something at the latter end of a dinner; but one that lies three thirds and uses a known truth to pass a thousand nothings with, should be once heard and thrice beaten. God save you, captain. BERTRAM Is there any unkindness between my lord and you, monsieur? PAROLLES I know not how I have deserved to run into my lord's displeasure. LAFEU You have made shift to run into 't, boots and spurs and all, like him that leaped into the custard; and out of it you'll run again, rather than suffer question for your residence. BERTRAM It may be you have mistaken him, my lord. LAFEU And shall do so ever, though I took him at 's prayers. Fare you well, my lord; and believe this of me, there can be no kernel 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. Farewell, monsieur: I have spoken better of you than you have or will to deserve at my hand; but we must do good against evil. [Exit] PAROLLES An idle lord. I swear. BERTRAM I think so. PAROLLES Why, do you not know him? BERTRAM Yes, I do know him well, and common speech Gives him a worthy pass. Here comes my clog. [Enter HELENA] HELENA I have, sir, as I was commanded from you, Spoke with the king and have procured his leave For present parting; only he desires Some private speech with you. BERTRAM I shall obey his will. You must not marvel, Helen, at my course, Which holds not colour with the time, nor does The ministration and required office On my particular. Prepared I was not For such a business; therefore am I found So much unsettled: this drives me to entreat you That presently you take our 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. This to my mother: [Giving a letter] 'Twill be two days ere I shall see you, so I leave you to your wisdom. HELENA Sir, I can nothing say, But that I am your most obedient servant. BERTRAM Come, come, no more of that. HELENA And ever shall With true observance seek to eke out that Wherein toward me my homely stars have fail'd To equal my great fortune. BERTRAM Let that go: My haste is very great: farewell; hie home. HELENA Pray, sir, your pardon. BERTRAM Well, what would you say? HELENA I am not worthy of the wealth I owe, Nor dare I say 'tis mine, and yet it is; But, like a timorous thief, most fain would steal What law does vouch mine own. BERTRAM What would you have? HELENA Something; and scarce so much: nothing, indeed. I would not tell you what I would, my lord: Faith yes; Strangers and foes do sunder, and not kiss. BERTRAM I pray you, stay not, but in haste to horse. HELENA I shall not break your bidding, good my lord. BERTRAM 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. Away, and for our flight. PAROLLES Bravely, coragio! [Exeunt] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL ACT III SCENE I Florence. The DUKE's palace. [Flourish. Enter the DUKE of Florence attended; the two Frenchmen, with a troop of soldiers. DUKE So that from point to point now have you heard The fundamental reasons of this war, Whose great decision hath much blood let forth And more thirsts after. First Lord Holy seems the quarrel Upon your grace's part; black and fearful On the opposer. DUKE Therefore we marvel much our cousin France Would in so just a business shut his bosom Against our borrowing prayers. Second Lord Good my lord, The reasons of our state I cannot yield, But like a common and an outward man, That the great figure of a council frames By self-unable motion: therefore dare not Say what I think of it, since I have found Myself in my incertain grounds to fail As often as I guess'd. DUKE Be it his pleasure. First Lord But I am sure the younger of our nature, That surfeit on their ease, will day by day Come here for physic. DUKE Welcome shall they be; And all the honours that can fly from us Shall on them settle. You know your places well; When better fall, for your avails they fell: To-morrow to the field. [Flourish. Exeunt] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL ACT III SCENE II Rousillon. The COUNT's palace. [Enter COUNTESS and Clown] COUNTESS It hath happened all as I would have had it, save that he comes not along with her. Clown By my troth, I take my young lord to be a very melancholy man. COUNTESS By what observance, I pray you? Clown Why, he will look upon his boot and sing; mend the ruff and sing; ask questions and sing; pick his teeth and sing. I know a man that had this trick of melancholy sold a goodly manor for a song. COUNTESS Let me see what he writes, and when he means to come. [Opening a letter] Clown I have no mind to Isbel since I was at court: our old ling and our Isbels o' the country are nothing like your old ling and your Isbels o' the court: the brains of my Cupid's knocked out, and I begin to love, as an old man loves money, with no stomach. COUNTESS What have we here? Clown E'en that you have there. [Exit] COUNTESS [Reads] I have sent you a daughter-in-law: she hath recovered the king, and undone me. I have wedded her, not bedded her; and sworn to make the 'not' eternal. You shall hear I am run away: know it before the report come. If there be breadth enough in the world, I will hold a long distance. My duty to you. 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 misprising of a maid too virtuous For the contempt of empire. [Re-enter Clown] Clown O madam, yonder is heavy news within between two soldiers and my young lady! COUNTESS What is the matter? Clown Nay, there is some comfort in the news, some comfort; your son will not be killed so soon as I thought he would. COUNTESS Why should he be killed? Clown 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. Here they come will tell you more: for my part, I only hear your son was run away. [Exit] [Enter HELENA, and two Gentlemen] First Gentleman Save you, good madam. HELENA Madam, my lord is gone, for ever gone. Second Gentleman Do not say so. COUNTESS Think upon patience. Pray you, gentlemen, I have felt so many quirks of joy and grief, That the first face of neither, on the start, Can woman me unto't: where is my son, I pray you? Second Gentleman Madam, he's gone to serve the duke of Florence: We met him thitherward; for thence we came, And, after some dispatch in hand at court, Thither we bend again. HELENA Look on his letter, madam; here's my passport. [Reads] When thou canst get the ring upon my finger which never shall come off, and show me a child begotten of thy body that I am father to, then call me husband: but in such a 'then' I write a 'never.' This is a dreadful sentence. COUNTESS Brought you this letter, gentlemen? First Gentleman Ay, madam; And for the contents' sake are sorry for our pain. COUNTESS I prithee, lady, have a better cheer; If thou engrossest all the griefs are thine, Thou robb'st me of a moiety: he was my son; But I do wash his name out of my blood, And thou art all my child. Towards Florence is he? Second Gentleman Ay, madam. COUNTESS And to be a soldier? Second Gentleman Such is his noble purpose; and believe 't, The duke will lay upon him all the honour That good convenience claims. COUNTESS Return you thither? First Gentleman Ay, madam, with the swiftest wing of speed. HELENA [Reads] Till I have no wife I have nothing in France. 'Tis bitter. COUNTESS Find you that there? HELENA Ay, madam. First Gentleman 'Tis but the boldness of his hand, haply, which his heart was not consenting to. COUNTESS Nothing in France, until he have no wife! There's nothing here that is too good for him But only she; and she deserves a lord That twenty such rude boys might tend upon And call her hourly mistress. Who was with him? First Gentleman A servant only, and a gentleman Which I have sometime known. COUNTESS Parolles, was it not? First Gentleman Ay, my good lady, he. COUNTESS A very tainted fellow, and full of wickedness. My son corrupts a well-derived nature With his inducement. First Gentleman Indeed, good lady, The fellow has a deal of that too much, Which holds him much to have. COUNTESS You're welcome, gentlemen. I will entreat you, when you see my son, To tell him that his sword can never win The honour that he loses: more I'll entreat you Written to bear along. Second Gentleman We serve you, madam, In that and all your worthiest affairs. COUNTESS Not so, but as we change our courtesies. Will you draw near! [Exeunt COUNTESS and Gentlemen] HELENA '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. Poor lord! is't I That chase thee from thy country and expose Those tender limbs of thine to the event Of the none-sparing war? and is it I That drive thee from the sportive court, where thou Wast shot at with fair eyes, to be the mark Of smoky muskets? O you leaden messengers, That ride upon the violent speed of fire, Fly with false aim; move the still-peering air, That sings with piercing; do not touch my lord. Whoever shoots at him, I set him there; Whoever charges on his forward breast, I am the caitiff that do hold him to't; And, though I kill him not, I am the cause His death was so effected: better 'twere I met the ravin lion when he roar'd With sharp constraint of hunger; better 'twere That all the miseries which nature owes Were mine at once. No, come thou home, Rousillon, Whence honour but of danger wins a scar, As oft it loses all: I will be gone; My being here it is that holds thee hence: Shall I stay here to do't? no, no, although The air of paradise did fan the house And angels officed all: I will be gone, That pitiful rumour may report my flight, To consolate thine ear. Come, night; end, day! For with the dark, poor thief, I'll steal away. [Exit] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL ACT III SCENE III Florence. Before the DUKE's palace. [Flourish. Enter the DUKE of Florence, BERTRAM, PAROLLES, Soldiers, Drum, and Trumpets] DUKE The general of our horse thou art; and we, Great in our hope, lay our best love and credence Upon thy promising fortune. BERTRAM Sir, it is A charge too heavy for my strength, but yet We'll strive to bear it for your worthy sake To the extreme edge of hazard. DUKE Then go thou forth; And fortune play upon thy prosperous helm, As thy auspicious mistress! BERTRAM This very day, Great Mars, I put myself into thy file: Make me but like my thoughts, and I shall prove A lover of thy drum, hater of love. [Exeunt] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL ACT III SCENE IV Rousillon. The COUNT's palace. [Enter COUNTESS and Steward] COUNTESS Alas! and would you take the letter of her? Might you not know she would do as she has done, By sending me a letter? Read it again. Steward [Reads] I am Saint Jaques' pilgrim, thither gone: Ambitious love hath so in me offended, That barefoot plod I the cold ground upon, With sainted vow my faults to have amended. Write, write, that from the bloody course of war My dearest master, your dear son, may hie: Bless him at home in peace, whilst I from far His name with zealous fervor sanctify: 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: He is too good and fair for death and me: Whom I myself embrace, to set him free. COUNTESS Ah, what sharp stings are in her mildest words! Rinaldo, you did never lack advice so much, As letting her pass so: had I spoke with her, I could have well diverted her intents, Which thus she hath prevented. Steward Pardon me, madam: If I had given you this at over-night, She might have been o'erta'en; and yet she writes, Pursuit would be but vain. COUNTESS What angel shall Bless this unworthy husband? he cannot thrive, Unless her prayers, whom heaven delights to hear And loves to grant, reprieve him from the wrath Of greatest justice. Write, write, Rinaldo, To this unworthy husband of his wife; Let every word weigh heavy of her worth That he does weigh too light: my greatest grief. Though little he do feel it, set down sharply. Dispatch the most convenient messenger: 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: which of them both Is dearest to me. I have no skill in sense To make distinction: provide this messenger: My heart is heavy and mine age is weak; Grief would have tears, and sorrow bids me speak. [Exeunt] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL ACT III SCENE V Florence. Without the walls. A tucket afar off. [Enter an old Widow of Florence, DIANA, VIOLENTA, and MARIANA, with other Citizens] Widow Nay, come; for if they do approach the city, we shall lose all the sight. DIANA They say the French count has done most honourable service. Widow It is reported that he has taken their greatest commander; and that with his own hand he slew the duke's brother. [Tucket] We have lost our labour; they are gone a contrary way: hark! you may know by their trumpets. MARIANA Come, let's return again, and suffice ourselves with the report of it. Well, Diana, take heed of this French earl: the honour of a maid is her name; and no legacy is so rich as honesty. Widow I have told my neighbour how you have been solicited by a gentleman his companion. MARIANA I know that knave; hang him! one Parolles: a filthy officer he is in those suggestions for the young earl. Beware of them, Diana; 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 threaten 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. DIANA You shall not need to fear me. Widow I hope so. [Enter HELENA, disguised like a Pilgrim] Look, here comes a pilgrim: I know she will lie at my house; thither they send one another: I'll question her. God save you, pilgrim! whither are you bound? HELENA To Saint Jaques le Grand. Where do the palmers lodge, I do beseech you? Widow At the Saint Francis here beside the port. HELENA Is this the way? Widow Ay, marry, is't. [A march afar] Hark you! they come this way. If you will tarry, holy pilgrim, But till the troops come by, I will conduct you where you shall be lodged; The rather, for I think I know your hostess As ample as myself. HELENA Is it yourself? Widow If you shall please so, pilgrim. HELENA I thank you, and will stay upon your leisure. Widow You came, I think, from France? HELENA I did so. Widow Here you shall see a countryman of yours That has done worthy service. HELENA His name, I pray you. DIANA The Count Rousillon: know you such a one? HELENA But by the ear, that hears most nobly of him: His face I know not. DIANA Whatsome'er he is, He's bravely taken here. He stole from France, As 'tis reported, for the king had married him Against his liking: think you it is so? HELENA Ay, surely, mere the truth: I know his lady. DIANA There is a gentleman that serves the count Reports but coarsely of her. HELENA What's his name? DIANA Monsieur Parolles. HELENA O, I believe with him, In argument of praise, or to the worth Of the great count himself, she is too mean To have her name repeated: all her deserving Is a reserved honesty, and that I have not heard examined. DIANA Alas, poor lady! 'Tis a hard bondage to become the wife Of a detesting lord. Widow I warrant, good creature, wheresoe'er she is, Her heart weighs sadly: this young maid might do her A shrewd turn, if she pleased. HELENA How do you mean? May be the amorous count solicits her In the unlawful purpose. Widow He does indeed; And brokes with all that can in such a suit Corrupt the tender honour of a maid: But she is arm'd for him and keeps her guard In honestest defence. MARIANA The gods forbid else! Widow So, now they come: [Drum and Colours] [Enter BERTRAM, PAROLLES, and the whole army] That is Antonio, the duke's eldest son; That, Escalus. HELENA Which is the Frenchman? DIANA He; That with the plume: 'tis a most gallant fellow. I would he loved his wife: if he were honester He were much goodlier: is't not a handsome gentleman? HELENA I like him well. DIANA 'Tis pity he is not honest: yond's that same knave That leads him to these places: were I his lady, I would Poison that vile rascal. HELENA Which is he? DIANA That jack-an-apes with scarfs: why is he melancholy? HELENA Perchance he's hurt i' the battle. PAROLLES Lose our drum! well. MARIANA He's shrewdly vexed at something: look, he has spied us. Widow Marry, hang you! MARIANA And your courtesy, for a ring-carrier! [Exeunt BERTRAM, PAROLLES, and army] Widow The troop is past. Come, pilgrim, I will bring you Where you shall host: of enjoin'd penitents There's four or five, to great Saint Jaques bound, Already at my house. HELENA I humbly thank you: 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. BOTH We'll take your offer kindly. [Exeunt] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL ACT III SCENE VI Camp before Florence. [Enter BERTRAM and the two French Lords] Second Lord Nay, good my lord, put him to't; let him have his way. First Lord If your lordship find him not a hilding, hold me no more in your respect. Second Lord On my life, my lord, a bubble. BERTRAM Do you think I am so far deceived in him? Second Lord Believe it, my lord, in mine own direct knowledge, without any malice, but to speak of him as my kinsman, he's a most notable coward, an infinite and endless liar, an hourly promise-breaker, the owner of no one good quality worthy your lordship's entertainment. First Lord It were fit you knew him; lest, reposing too far in his virtue, which he hath not, he might at some great and trusty business in a main danger fail you. BERTRAM I would I knew in what particular action to try him. First Lord None better than to let him fetch off his drum, which you hear him so confidently undertake to do. Second Lord I, with a troop of Florentines, will suddenly surprise him; such I will have, whom I am sure he knows not from the enemy: we will bind and hoodwink him so, that he shall suppose no other but that he is carried into the leaguer of the adversaries, when we bring him to our own tents. Be but your lordship present at his examination: if he do not, for the promise of his life and in the highest compulsion of base fear, offer to betray you and deliver all the intelligence in his power against you, and that with the divine forfeit of his soul upon oath, never trust my judgment in any thing. First Lord O, for the love of laughter, let him fetch his drum; he says he has a stratagem for't: when your lordship sees the bottom of his success in't, and to what metal this counterfeit lump of ore will be melted, if you give him not John Drum's entertainment, your inclining cannot be removed. Here he comes. [Enter PAROLLES] Second Lord [Aside to BERTRAM] O, for the love of laughter, hinder not the honour of his design: let him fetch off his drum in any hand. BERTRAM How now, monsieur! this drum sticks sorely in your disposition. First Lord A pox on't, let it go; 'tis but a drum. PAROLLES 'But a drum'! is't 'but a drum'? A drum so lost! There was excellent command,--to charge in with our horse upon our own wings, and to rend our own soldiers! First Lord That was not to be blamed 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. BERTRAM Well, we cannot greatly condemn our success: some dishonour we had in the loss of that drum; but it is not to be recovered. PAROLLES It might have been recovered. BERTRAM It might; but it is not now. PAROLLES It is to be recovered: but that the merit of service is seldom attributed to the true and exact performer, I would have that drum or another, or 'hic jacet.' BERTRAM Why, if you have a stomach, to't, monsieur: 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 speed well in it, the duke shall both speak of it. and extend to you what further becomes his greatness, even to the utmost syllable of your worthiness. PAROLLES By the hand of a soldier, I will undertake it. BERTRAM But you must not now slumber in it. PAROLLES I'll about it this evening: and I will presently pen down my dilemmas, encourage myself in my certainty, put myself into my mortal preparation; and by midnight look to hear further from me. BERTRAM May I be bold to acquaint his grace you are gone about it? PAROLLES I know not what the success will be, my lord; but the attempt I vow. BERTRAM I know thou'rt valiant; and, to the possibility of thy soldiership, will subscribe for thee. Farewell. PAROLLES I love not many words. [Exit] Second Lord No more than a fish loves water. Is not this a strange fellow, my lord, that so confidently seems to undertake this business, which he knows is not to be done; damns himself to do and dares better be damned than to do't? First Lord You do not know him, my lord, as we do: certain it is that he will steal himself into a man's favour and for a week escape a great deal of discoveries; but when you find him out, you have him ever after. BERTRAM Why, do you think he will make no deed at all of this that so seriously he does address himself unto? Second Lord None in the world; but return with an invention and clap upon you two or three probable lies: but we have almost embossed him; you shall see his fall to-night; for indeed he is not for your lordship's respect. First Lord We'll make you some sport with the fox ere we case him. He was first smoked by the old lord Lafeu: when his disguise and he is parted, tell me what a sprat you shall find him; which you shall see this very night. Second Lord I must go look my twigs: he shall be caught. BERTRAM Your brother he shall go along with me. Second Lord As't please your lordship: I'll leave you. [Exit] BERTRAM Now will I lead you to the house, and show you The lass I spoke of. First Lord But you say she's honest. BERTRAM That's all the fault: I spoke with her but once And found her wondrous cold; but I sent to her, By this same coxcomb that we have i' the wind, Tokens and letters which she did re-send; And this is all I have done. She's a fair creature: Will you go see her? First Lord With all my heart, my lord. [Exeunt] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL ACT III SCENE VII Florence. The Widow's house. [Enter HELENA and Widow] HELENA 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. Widow Though my estate be fallen, I was well born, Nothing acquainted with these businesses; And would not put my reputation now In any staining act. HELENA Nor would I wish you. First, give me trust, the count he is my husband, And what to your sworn counsel I have spoken Is so from word to word; and then you cannot, By the good aid that I of you shall borrow, Err in bestowing it. Widow I should believe you: For you have show'd me that which well approves You're great in fortune. HELENA Take this purse of gold, And let me buy your friendly help thus far, Which I will over-pay and pay again When I have found it. The count he wooes your daughter, Lays down his wanton siege before her beauty, Resolved to carry her: let her in fine consent, As we'll direct her how 'tis best to bear it. Now his important blood will nought deny That she'll demand: 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: this ring he holds In most rich choice; yet in his idle fire, To buy his will, it would not seem too dear, Howe'er repented after. Widow Now I see The bottom of your purpose. HELENA You see it lawful, then: it is no more, But that your daughter, ere she seems as won, Desires this ring; appoints him an encounter; In fine, delivers me to fill the time, Herself most chastely absent: after this, To marry her, I'll add three thousand crowns To what is passed already. Widow I have yielded: Instruct my daughter how she shall persever, That time and place with this deceit so lawful May prove coherent. Every night he comes With musics of all sorts and songs composed To her unworthiness: it nothing steads us To chide him from our eaves; for he persists As if his life lay on't. HELENA Why then to-night Let us assay our plot; which, if it speed, Is wicked meaning in a lawful deed And lawful meaning in a lawful act, Where both not sin, and yet a sinful fact: But let's about it. [Exeunt] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL ACT IV SCENE I Without the Florentine camp. [Enter Second French Lord, with five or six other Soldiers in ambush] Second Lord He can come no other way but by this hedge-corner. When you sally upon him, speak what terrible language you will: though you understand it not yourselves, no matter; for we must not seem to understand him, unless some one among us whom we must produce for an interpreter. First Soldier Good captain, let me be the interpreter. Second Lord Art not acquainted with him? knows he not thy voice? First Soldier No, sir, I warrant you. Second Lord But what linsey-woolsey hast thou to speak to us again? First Soldier E'en such as you speak to me. Second Lord He must think us some band of strangers i' the adversary's entertainment. Now he hath a smack of all neighbouring languages; therefore we must every one be a man of his own fancy, not to know what we speak one to another; so we seem to know, is to know straight our purpose: choughs' language, gabble enough, and good enough. As for you, interpreter, you must seem very politic. But couch, ho! here he comes, to beguile two hours in a sleep, and then to return and swear the lies he forges. [Enter PAROLLES] PAROLLES Ten o'clock: within these three hours 'twill be time enough to go home. What shall I say I have done? It must be a very plausive invention that carries it: they begin to smoke me; and disgraces have of late knocked too often at my door. I find my tongue is too foolhardy; but my heart hath the fear of Mars before it and of his creatures, not daring the reports of my tongue. Second Lord This is the first truth that e'er thine own tongue was guilty of. PAROLLES 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: yet slight ones will not carry it; they will say, 'Came you off with so little?' and great ones I dare not give. Wherefore, what's the instance? Tongue, I must put you into a butter-woman's mouth and buy myself another of Bajazet's mule, if you prattle me into these perils. Second Lord Is it possible he should know what he is, and be that he is? PAROLLES I would the cutting of my garments would serve the turn, or the breaking of my Spanish sword. Second Lord We cannot afford you so. PAROLLES Or the baring of my beard; and to say it was in stratagem. Second Lord 'Twould not do. PAROLLES Or to drown my clothes, and say I was stripped. Second Lord Hardly serve. PAROLLES Though I swore I leaped from the window of the citadel. Second Lord How deep? PAROLLES Thirty fathom. Second Lord Three great oaths would scarce make that be believed. PAROLLES I would I had any drum of the enemy's: I would swear I recovered it. Second Lord You shall hear one anon. PAROLLES A drum now of the enemy's,-- [Alarum within] Second Lord Throca movousus, cargo, cargo, cargo. All Cargo, cargo, cargo, villiando par corbo, cargo. PAROLLES O, ransom, ransom! do not hide mine eyes. [They seize and blindfold him] First Soldier Boskos thromuldo boskos. PAROLLES I know you are the Muskos' regiment: And I shall lose my life for want of language; 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. First Soldier Boskos vauvado: I understand thee, and can speak thy tongue. Kerely bonto, sir, betake thee to thy faith, for seventeen poniards are at thy bosom. PAROLLES O! First Soldier O, pray, pray, pray! Manka revania dulche. Second Lord Oscorbidulchos volivorco. First Soldier The general is content to spare thee yet; And, hoodwink'd as thou art, will lead thee on To gather from thee: haply thou mayst inform Something to save thy life. PAROLLES O, let me live! And all the secrets of our camp I'll show, Their force, their purposes; nay, I'll speak that Which you will wonder at. First Soldier But wilt thou faithfully? PAROLLES If I do not, damn me. First Soldier Acordo linta. Come on; thou art granted space. [Exit, with PAROLLES guarded. A short alarum within] Second Lord Go, tell the Count Rousillon, and my brother, We have caught the woodcock, and will keep him muffled Till we do hear from them. Second Soldier Captain, I will. Second Lord A' will betray us all unto ourselves: Inform on that. Second Soldier So I will, sir. Second Lord Till then I'll keep him dark and safely lock'd. [Exeunt] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL ACT IV SCENE II Florence. The Widow's house. [Enter BERTRAM and DIANA] BERTRAM They told me that your name was Fontibell. DIANA No, my good lord, Diana. BERTRAM Titled goddess; And worth it, with addition! But, fair soul, In your fine frame hath love no quality? If quick fire of youth light not your mind, You are no maiden, but a monument: When you are dead, you should be such a one As you are now, for you are cold and stem; And now you should be as your mother was When your sweet self was got. DIANA She then was honest. BERTRAM So should you be. DIANA No: My mother did but duty; such, my lord, As you owe to your wife. BERTRAM No more o' that; I prithee, do not strive against my vows: I was compell'd to her; but I love thee By love's own sweet constraint, and will for ever Do thee all rights of service. DIANA Ay, so you serve us Till we serve you; but when you have our roses, You barely leave our thorns to prick ourselves And mock us with our bareness. BERTRAM How have I sworn! DIANA 'Tis not the many oaths that makes the truth, But the plain single vow that is vow'd true. What is not holy, that we swear not by, But take the High'st to witness: then, pray you, tell me, If I should swear by God's great attributes, I loved you dearly, would you believe my oaths, When I did love you ill? This has no holding, To swear by him whom I protest to love, That I will work against him: therefore your oaths Are words and poor conditions, but unseal'd, At least in my opinion. BERTRAM Change it, change it; Be not so holy-cruel: love is holy; And my integrity ne'er knew the crafts That you do charge men with. Stand no more off, But give thyself unto my sick desires, Who then recover: say thou art mine, and ever My love as it begins shall so persever. DIANA I see that men make ropes in such a scarre That we'll forsake ourselves. Give me that ring. BERTRAM I'll lend it thee, my dear; but have no power To give it from me. DIANA Will you not, my lord? BERTRAM It is an honour 'longing to our house, Bequeathed down from many ancestors; Which were the greatest obloquy i' the world In me to lose. DIANA Mine honour's such a ring: My chastity's the jewel of our house, Bequeathed down from many ancestors; Which were the greatest obloquy i' the world In me to lose: thus your own proper wisdom Brings in the champion Honour on my part, Against your vain assault. BERTRAM Here, take my ring: My house, mine honour, yea, my life, be thine, And I'll be bid by thee. DIANA 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: My reasons are most strong; and you shall know them When back again this ring shall be deliver'd: 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. Adieu, till then; then, fail not. You have won A wife of me, though there my hope be done. BERTRAM A heaven on earth I have won by wooing thee. [Exit] DIANA For which live long to thank both heaven and me! You may so in the end. My mother told me just how he would woo, As if she sat in 's heart; she says all men Have the like oaths: he had sworn to marry me When his wife's dead; therefore I'll lie with him When I am buried. Since Frenchmen are so braid, Marry that will, I live and die a maid: Only in this disguise I think't no sin To cozen him that would unjustly win. [Exit] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL ACT IV SCENE III The Florentine camp. [Enter the two French Lords and some two or three Soldiers] First Lord You have not given him his mother's letter? Second Lord I have delivered it an hour since: there is something in't that stings his nature; for on the reading it he changed almost into another man. First Lord He has much worthy blame laid upon him for shaking off so good a wife and so sweet a lady. Second Lord Especially he hath incurred the everlasting displeasure of the king, who had even tuned his bounty to sing happiness to him. I will tell you a thing, but you shall let it dwell darkly with you. First Lord When you have spoken it, 'tis dead, and I am the grave of it. Second Lord 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. First Lord Now, God delay our rebellion! as we are ourselves, what things are we! Second Lord Merely our own traitors. And as in the common course of all treasons, we still see them reveal themselves, till they attain to their abhorred ends, so he that in this action contrives against his own nobility, in his proper stream o'erflows himself. First Lord Is it not meant damnable in us, to be trumpeters of our unlawful intents? We shall not then have his company to-night? Second Lord Not till after midnight; for he is dieted to his hour. First Lord That approaches apace; I would gladly have him see his company anatomized, that he might take a measure of his own judgments, wherein so curiously he had set this counterfeit. Second Lord We will not meddle with him till he come; for his presence must be the whip of the other. First Lord In the mean time, what hear you of these wars? Second Lord I hear there is an overture of peace. First Lord Nay, I assure you, a peace concluded. Second Lord What will Count Rousillon do then? will he travel higher, or return again into France? First Lord I perceive, by this demand, you are not altogether of his council. Second Lord Let it be forbid, sir; so should I be a great deal of his act. First Lord Sir, his wife some two months since fled from his house: her pretence is a pilgrimage to Saint Jaques le Grand; which holy undertaking with most austere sanctimony she accomplished; and, there residing the tenderness of her nature became as a prey to her grief; in fine, made a groan of her last breath, and now she sings in heaven. Second Lord How is this justified? First Lord 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 confirmed by the rector of the place. Second Lord Hath the count all this intelligence? First Lord Ay, and the particular confirmations, point from point, so to the full arming of the verity. Second Lord I am heartily sorry that he'll be glad of this. First Lord How mightily sometimes we make us comforts of our losses! Second Lord And how mightily some other times we drown our gain in tears! The great dignity that his valour hath here acquired for him shall at home be encountered with a shame as ample. First Lord The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together: our virtues would be proud, if our faults whipped them not; and our crimes would despair, if they were not cherished by our virtues. [Enter a Messenger] How now! where's your master? Servant He met the duke in the street, sir, of whom he hath taken a solemn leave: his lordship will next morning for France. The duke hath offered him letters of commendations to the king. Second Lord They shall be no more than needful there, if they were more than they can commend. First Lord They cannot be too sweet for the king's tartness. Here's his lordship now. [Enter BERTRAM] How now, my lord! is't not after midnight? BERTRAM I have to-night dispatched sixteen businesses, a month's length a-piece, by an abstract of success: I have congied with the duke, done my adieu with his nearest; buried a wife, mourned for her; writ to my lady mother I am returning; entertained my convoy; and between these main parcels of dispatch effected many nicer needs; the last was the greatest, but that I have not ended yet. Second Lord If the business be of any difficulty, and this morning your departure hence, it requires haste of your lordship. BERTRAM I mean, the business is not ended, as fearing to hear of it hereafter. But shall we have this dialogue between the fool and the soldier? Come, bring forth this counterfeit module, he has deceived me, like a double-meaning prophesier. Second Lord Bring him forth: has sat i' the stocks all night, poor gallant knave. BERTRAM No matter: his heels have deserved it, in usurping his spurs so long. How does he carry himself? Second Lord I have told your lordship already, the stocks carry him. But to answer you as you would be understood; he weeps like a wench that had shed her milk: he hath confessed himself to Morgan, whom he supposes to be a friar, from the time of his remembrance to this very instant disaster of his setting i' the stocks: and what think you he hath confessed? BERTRAM Nothing of me, has a'? Second Lord 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. [Enter PAROLLES guarded, and First Soldier] BERTRAM A plague upon him! muffled! he can say nothing of me: hush, hush! First Lord Hoodman comes! Portotartarosa First Soldier He calls for the tortures: what will you say without 'em? PAROLLES I will confess what I know without constraint: if ye pinch me like a pasty, I can say no more. First Soldier Bosko chimurcho. First Lord Boblibindo chicurmurco. First Soldier You are a merciful general. Our general bids you answer to what I shall ask you out of a note. PAROLLES And truly, as I hope to live. First Soldier [Reads] 'First demand of him how many horse the duke is strong.' What say you to that? PAROLLES Five or six thousand; but very weak and unserviceable: the troops are all scattered, and the commanders very poor rogues, upon my reputation and credit and as I hope to live. First Soldier Shall I set down your answer so? PAROLLES Do: I'll take the sacrament on't, how and which way you will. BERTRAM All's one to him. What a past-saving slave is this! First Lord You're deceived, my lord: this is Monsieur Parolles, the gallant militarist,--that was his own phrase,--that had the whole theoric of war in the knot of his scarf, and the practise in the chape of his dagger. Second Lord I will never trust a man again for keeping his sword clean. nor believe he can have every thing in him by wearing his apparel neatly. First Soldier Well, that's set down. PAROLLES Five or six thousand horse, I said,-- I will say true,--or thereabouts, set down, for I'll speak truth. First Lord He's very near the truth in this. BERTRAM But I con him no thanks for't, in the nature he delivers it. PAROLLES Poor rogues, I pray you, say. First Soldier Well, that's set down. PAROLLES I humbly thank you, sir: a truth's a truth, the rogues are marvellous poor. First Soldier [Reads] 'Demand of him, of what strength they are a-foot.' What say you to that? PAROLLES By my troth, sir, if I were to live this present hour, I will tell true. Let me see: Spurio, a hundred and fifty; Sebastian, so many; Corambus, so many; Jaques, so many; Guiltian, Cosmo, Lodowick, and Gratii, two hundred and fifty each; mine own company, Chitopher, Vaumond, Bentii, two hundred and fifty each: so that the muster-file, rotten and sound, upon my life, amounts not to fifteen thousand poll; half of the which dare not shake snow from off their cassocks, lest they shake themselves to pieces. BERTRAM What shall be done to him? First Lord Nothing, but let him have thanks. Demand of him my condition, and what credit I have with the duke. First Soldier Well, that's set down. [Reads] 'You shall demand of him, whether one Captain Dumain be i' the camp, a Frenchman; what his reputation is with the duke; what his valour, honesty, and expertness in wars; or whether he thinks it were not possible, with well-weighing sums of gold, to corrupt him to revolt.' What say you to this? what do you know of it? PAROLLES I beseech you, let me answer to the particular of the inter'gatories: demand them singly. First Soldier Do you know this Captain Dumain? PAROLLES I know him: a' was a botcher's 'prentice in Paris, from whence he was whipped for getting the shrieve's fool with child,--a dumb innocent, that could not say him nay. BERTRAM Nay, by your leave, hold your hands; though I know his brains are forfeit to the next tile that falls. First Soldier Well, is this captain in the duke of Florence's camp? PAROLLES Upon my knowledge, he is, and lousy. First Lord Nay look not so upon me; we shall hear of your lordship anon. First Soldier What is his reputation with the duke? PAROLLES 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' the band: I think I have his letter in my pocket. First Soldier Marry, we'll search. PAROLLES 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. First Soldier Here 'tis; here's a paper: shall I read it to you? PAROLLES I do not know if it be it or no. BERTRAM Our interpreter does it well. First Lord Excellently. First Soldier [Reads] 'Dian, the count's a fool, and full of gold,'-- PAROLLES That is not the duke's letter, sir; that is an advertisement to a proper maid in Florence, one Diana, to take heed of the allurement of one Count Rousillon, a foolish idle boy, but for all that very ruttish: I pray you, sir, put it up again. First Soldier Nay, I'll read it first, by your favour. PAROLLES 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. BERTRAM Damnable both-sides rogue! First Soldier [Reads] 'When he swears oaths, bid him drop gold, and take it; After he scores, he never pays the score: Half won is match well made; match, and well make it; He ne'er pays after-debts, take it before; And say a soldier, Dian, told thee this, Men are to mell with, boys are not to kiss: For count of this, the count's a fool, I know it, Who pays before, but not when he does owe it. Thine, as he vowed to thee in thine ear, PAROLLES.' BERTRAM He shall be whipped through the army with this rhyme in's forehead. Second Lord This is your devoted friend, sir, the manifold linguist and the armipotent soldier. BERTRAM I could endure any thing before but a cat, and now he's a cat to me. First Soldier I perceive, sir, by the general's looks, we shall be fain to hang you. PAROLLES My life, sir, in any case: not that I am afraid to die; but that, my offences being many, I would repent out the remainder of nature: let me live, sir, in a dungeon, i' the stocks, or any where, so I may live. First Soldier We'll see what may be done, so you confess freely; therefore, once more to this Captain Dumain: you have answered to his reputation with the duke and to his valour: what is his honesty? PAROLLES He will steal, sir, an egg out of a cloister: for rapes and ravishments he parallels Nessus: he professes not keeping of oaths; in breaking 'em he is stronger than Hercules: he will lie, sir, with such volubility, that you would think truth were a fool: drunkenness is his best virtue, for he will be swine-drunk; and in his sleep he does little harm, save to his bed-clothes about him; but they know his conditions and lay him in straw. I have but little more to say, sir, of his honesty: he has every thing that an honest man should not have; what an honest man should have, he has nothing. First Lord I begin to love him for this. BERTRAM For this description of thine honesty? A pox upon him for me, he's more and more a cat. First Soldier What say you to his expertness in war? PAROLLES Faith, sir, he has led the drum before the English tragedians; to belie him, I will not, and more of his soldiership I know not; except, in that country he had the honour to be the officer at a place there called Mile-end, to instruct for the doubling of files: I would do the man what honour I can, but of this I am not certain. First Lord He hath out-villained villany so far, that the rarity redeems him. BERTRAM A pox on him, he's a cat still. First Soldier His qualities being at this poor price, I need not to ask you if gold will corrupt him to revolt. PAROLLES Sir, for a quart d'ecu he will sell the fee-simple of his salvation, the inheritance of it; and cut the entail from all remainders, and a perpetual succession for it perpetually. First Soldier What's his brother, the other Captain Dumain? Second Lord Why does be ask him of me? First Soldier What's he? PAROLLES E'en a crow o' the 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: in a retreat he outruns any lackey; marry, in coming on he has the cramp. First Soldier If your life be saved, will you undertake to betray the Florentine? PAROLLES Ay, and the captain of his horse, Count Rousillon. First Soldier I'll whisper with the general, and know his pleasure. PAROLLES [Aside] I'll no more drumming; 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. Yet who would have suspected an ambush where I was taken? First Soldier There is no remedy, sir, but you must die: the general says, you that have so traitorously discovered the secrets of your army and made such pestiferous reports of men very nobly held, can serve the world for no honest use; therefore you must die. Come, headsman, off with his head. PAROLLES O Lord, sir, let me live, or let me see my death! First Lord That shall you, and take your leave of all your friends. [Unblinding him] So, look about you: know you any here? BERTRAM Good morrow, noble captain. Second Lord God bless you, Captain Parolles. First Lord God save you, noble captain. Second Lord Captain, what greeting will you to my Lord Lafeu? I am for France. First Lord Good captain, will you give me a copy of the sonnet you writ to Diana in behalf of the Count Rousillon? an I were not a very coward, I'ld compel it of you: but fare you well. [Exeunt BERTRAM and Lords] First Soldier You are undone, captain, all but your scarf; that has a knot on't yet PAROLLES Who cannot be crushed with a plot? First Soldier If you could find out a country where but women were that had received so much shame, you might begin an impudent nation. Fare ye well, sir; I am for France too: we shall speak of you there. [Exit with Soldiers] PAROLLES Yet am I thankful: if my heart were great, 'Twould burst at this. Captain I'll be no more; But I will eat and drink, and sleep as soft As captain shall: simply the thing I am Shall make me live. Who knows himself a braggart, Let him fear this, for it will come to pass that every braggart shall be found an ass. Rust, sword? cool, blushes! and, Parolles, live Safest in shame! being fool'd, by foolery thrive! There's place and means for every man alive. I'll after them. [Exit] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL ACT IV SCENE IV Florence. The Widow's house. [Enter HELENA, Widow, and DIANA] HELENA That you may well perceive I have not wrong'd you, One of the greatest in the Christian world Shall be my surety; 'fore whose throne 'tis needful, Ere I can perfect mine intents, to kneel: Time was, I did him a desired office, Dear almost as his life; which gratitude Through flinty Tartar's bosom would peep forth, And answer, thanks: I duly am inform'd His grace is at Marseilles; to which place We have convenient convoy. You must know I am supposed dead: the army breaking, My husband hies him home; where, heaven aiding, And by the leave of my good lord the king, We'll be before our welcome. Widow Gentle madam, You never had a servant to whose trust Your business was more welcome. HELENA Nor you, mistress, Ever a friend whose thoughts more truly labour To recompense your love: doubt not but heaven Hath brought me up to be your daughter's dower, As it hath fated her to be my motive And helper to a husband. But, 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: so lust doth play With what it loathes for that which is away. But more of this hereafter. You, Diana, Under my poor instructions yet must suffer Something in my behalf. DIANA Let death and honesty Go with your impositions, I am yours Upon your will to suffer. HELENA Yet, I pray you: But with the word the time will bring on summer, When briers shall have leaves as well as thorns, And be as sweet as sharp. We must away; Our wagon is prepared, and time revives us: All's well that ends well; still the fine's the crown; Whate'er the course, the end is the renown. [Exeunt] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL ACT IV SCENE V Rousillon. The COUNT's palace. [Enter COUNTESS, LAFEU, and Clown] LAFEU No, no, no, your son was misled with a snipt-taffeta fellow there, whose villanous saffron would have made all the unbaked and doughy youth of a nation in his colour: your daughter-in-law had been alive at this hour, and your son here at home, more advanced by the king than by that red-tailed humble-bee I speak of. COUNTESS I would I had not known him; it was the death of the most virtuous gentlewoman that ever nature had praise for creating. If she had partaken of my flesh, and cost me the dearest groans of a mother, I could not have owed her a more rooted love. LAFEU 'Twas a good lady, 'twas a good lady: we may pick a thousand salads ere we light on such another herb. Clown Indeed, sir, she was the sweet marjoram of the salad, or rather, the herb of grace. LAFEU They are not herbs, you knave; they are nose-herbs. Clown I am no great Nebuchadnezzar, sir; I have not much skill in grass. LAFEU Whether dost thou profess thyself, a knave or a fool? Clown A fool, sir, at a woman's service, and a knave at a man's. LAFEU Your distinction? Clown I would cozen the man of his wife and do his service. LAFEU So you were a knave at his service, indeed. Clown And I would give his wife my bauble, sir, to do her service. LAFEU I will subscribe for thee, thou art both knave and fool. Clown At your service. LAFEU No, no, no. Clown Why, sir, if I cannot serve you, I can serve as great a prince as you are. LAFEU Who's that? a Frenchman? Clown Faith, sir, a' has an English name; but his fisnomy is more hotter in France than there. LAFEU What prince is that? Clown The black prince, sir; alias, the prince of darkness; alias, the devil. LAFEU Hold thee, there's my purse: I give thee not this to suggest thee from thy master thou talkest of; serve him still. Clown I am a woodland fellow, sir, that always loved a great fire; and the master I speak of ever keeps a good fire. But, sure, he is the prince of the world; let his nobility remain in's court. I am for the house with the narrow gate, which I take to be too little for pomp to enter: some that humble themselves may; but the many will be too chill and tender, and they'll be for the flowery way that leads to the broad gate and the great fire. LAFEU Go thy ways, I begin to be aweary of thee; and I tell thee so before, because I would not fall out with thee. Go thy ways: let my horses be well looked to, without any tricks. Clown If I put any tricks upon 'em, sir, they shall be jades' tricks; which are their own right by the law of nature. [Exit] LAFEU A shrewd knave and an unhappy. COUNTESS So he is. My lord that's gone made himself much sport out of him: by his authority he remains here, which he thinks is a patent for his sauciness; and, indeed, he has no pace, but runs where he will. LAFEU I like him well; 'tis not amiss. And I was about to tell you, since I heard of the good lady's death and that my lord your son was upon his return home, I moved the king my master to speak in the behalf of my daughter; which, in the minority of them both, his majesty, out of a self-gracious remembrance, did first propose: his highness hath promised me to do it: and, to stop up the displeasure he hath conceived against your son, there is no fitter matter. How does your ladyship like it? COUNTESS With very much content, my lord; and I wish it happily effected. LAFEU His highness comes post from Marseilles, of as able body as when he numbered thirty: he will be here to-morrow, or I am deceived by him that in such intelligence hath seldom failed. COUNTESS It rejoices me, that I hope I shall see him ere I die. I have letters that my son will be here to-night: I shall beseech your lordship to remain with me till they meet together. LAFEU Madam, I was thinking with what manners I might safely be admitted. COUNTESS You need but plead your honourable privilege. LAFEU Lady, of that I have made a bold charter; but I thank my God it holds yet. [Re-enter Clown] Clown O madam, yonder's my lord your son with a patch of velvet on's face: whether there be a scar under't or no, the velvet knows; but 'tis a goodly patch of velvet: his left cheek is a cheek of two pile and a half, but his right cheek is worn bare. LAFEU A scar nobly got, or a noble scar, is a good livery of honour; so belike is that. Clown But it is your carbonadoed face. LAFEU Let us go see your son, I pray you: I long to talk with the young noble soldier. Clown Faith there's a dozen of 'em, with delicate fine hats and most courteous feathers, which bow the head and nod at every man. [Exeunt] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL ACT V SCENE I Marseilles. A street. [Enter HELENA, Widow, and DIANA, with two Attendants] HELENA But this exceeding posting day and night Must wear your spirits low; we cannot help it: But since you have made the days and nights as one, To wear your gentle limbs in my affairs, Be bold you do so grow in my requital As nothing can unroot you. In happy time; [Enter a Gentleman] This man may help me to his majesty's ear, If he would spend his power. God save you, sir. Gentleman And you. HELENA Sir, I have seen you in the court of France. Gentleman I have been sometimes there. HELENA I do presume, sir, that you are not fallen From the report that goes upon your goodness; An therefore, goaded with most sharp occasions, Which lay nice manners by, I put you to The use of your own virtues, for the which I shall continue thankful. Gentleman What's your will? HELENA That it will please you To give this poor petition to the king, And aid me with that store of power you have To come into his presence. Gentleman The king's not here. HELENA Not here, sir! Gentleman Not, indeed: He hence removed last night and with more haste Than is his use. Widow Lord, how we lose our pains! HELENA ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL yet, Though time seem so adverse and means unfit. I do beseech you, whither is he gone? Gentleman Marry, as I take it, to Rousillon; Whither I am going. HELENA 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. I will come after you with what good speed Our means will make us means. Gentleman This I'll do for you. HELENA And you shall find yourself to be well thank'd, Whate'er falls more. We must to horse again. Go, go, provide. [Exeunt] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL ACT V SCENE II Rousillon. Before the COUNT's palace. [Enter Clown, and PAROLLES, following] PAROLLES Good Monsieur Lavache, give my Lord Lafeu this letter: I have ere now, sir, been better known to you, when I have held familiarity with fresher clothes; but I am now, sir, muddied in fortune's mood, and smell somewhat strong of her strong displeasure. Clown Truly, fortune's displeasure is but sluttish, if it smell so strongly as thou speakest of: I will henceforth eat no fish of fortune's buttering. Prithee, allow the wind. PAROLLES Nay, you need not to stop your nose, sir; I spake but by a metaphor. Clown Indeed, sir, if your metaphor stink, I will stop my nose; or against any man's metaphor. Prithee, get thee further. PAROLLES Pray you, sir, deliver me this paper. Clown Foh! prithee, stand away: a paper from fortune's close-stool to give to a nobleman! Look, here he comes himself. [Enter LAFEU] Here is a purr of fortune's, sir, or of fortune's cat,--but not a musk-cat,--that has fallen into the unclean fishpond of her displeasure, and, as he says, is muddied withal: pray you, sir, use the carp as you may; for he looks like a poor, decayed, ingenious, foolish, rascally knave. I do pity his distress in my similes of comfort and leave him to your lordship. [Exit] PAROLLES My lord, I am a man whom fortune hath cruelly scratched. LAFEU And what would you have me to do? 'Tis too late to pare her nails now. Wherein have you played the knave with fortune, that she should scratch you, who of herself is a good lady and would not have knaves thrive long under her? There's a quart d'ecu for you: let the justices make you and fortune friends: I am for other business. PAROLLES I beseech your honour to hear me one single word. LAFEU You beg a single penny more: come, you shall ha't; save your word. PAROLLES My name, my good lord, is Parolles. LAFEU You beg more than 'word,' then. Cox my passion! give me your hand. How does your drum? PAROLLES O my good lord, you were the first that found me! LAFEU Was I, in sooth? and I was the first that lost thee. PAROLLES It lies in you, my lord, to bring me in some grace, for you did bring me out. LAFEU Out upon thee, knave! dost thou put upon me at once both the office of God and the devil? One brings thee in grace and the other brings thee out. [Trumpets sound] The king's coming; I know by his trumpets. Sirrah, inquire further after me; I had talk of you last night: though you are a fool and a knave, you shall eat; go to, follow. PAROLLES I praise God for you. [Exeunt] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL ACT V SCENE III Rousillon. The COUNT's palace. [Flourish. Enter KING, COUNTESS, LAFEU, the two French Lords, with Attendants] KING We lost a jewel of her; and our esteem Was made much poorer by it: but your son, As mad in folly, lack'd the sense to know Her estimation home. COUNTESS 'Tis past, my liege; And I beseech your majesty to make it Natural rebellion, done i' the blaze of youth; When oil and fire, too strong for reason's force, O'erbears it and burns on. KING 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. LAFEU This I must say, But first I beg my pardon, the young lord Did to his majesty, his mother and his lady Offence of mighty note; but to himself The greatest wrong of all. He lost a wife Whose beauty did astonish the survey Of richest eyes, whose words all ears took captive, Whose dear perfection hearts that scorn'd to serve Humbly call'd mistress. KING Praising what is lost Makes the remembrance dear. Well, call him hither; We are reconciled, and the first view shall kill All repetition: let him not ask our pardon; The nature of his great offence is dead, And deeper than oblivion we do bury The incensing relics of it: let him approach, A stranger, no offender; and inform him So 'tis our will he should. Gentleman I shall, my liege. [Exit] KING What says he to your daughter? have you spoke? LAFEU All that he is hath reference to your highness. KING Then shall we have a match. I have letters sent me That set him high in fame. [Enter BERTRAM] LAFEU He looks well on't. KING I am not a day of season, For thou mayst see a sunshine and a hail In me at once: but to the brightest beams Distracted clouds give way; so stand thou forth; The time is fair again. BERTRAM My high-repented blames, Dear sovereign, pardon to me. KING All is whole; Not one word more of the consumed time. Let's take the instant by the forward top; For we are old, and on our quick'st decrees The inaudible and noiseless foot of Time Steals ere we can effect them. You remember The daughter of this lord? BERTRAM Admiringly, my liege, at first I stuck my choice upon her, ere my heart Durst make too bold a herald of my tongue Where the impression of mine eye infixing, Contempt his scornful perspective did lend me, Which warp'd the line of every other favour; Scorn'd a fair colour, or express'd it stolen; Extended or contracted all proportions To a most hideous object: thence it came That she whom all men praised and whom myself, Since I have lost, have loved, was in mine eye The dust that did offend it. KING Well excused: 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 shame full late sleeps out the afternoon. Be this sweet Helen's knell, and now forget her. Send forth your amorous token for fair Maudlin: The main consents are had; and here we'll stay To see our widower's second marriage-day. COUNTESS Which better than the first, O dear heaven, bless! Or, ere they meet, in me, O nature, cesse! LAFEU Come on, my son, in whom my house's name Must be digested, give a favour from you To sparkle in the spirits of my daughter, That she may quickly come. [BERTRAM gives a ring] By my old beard, And every hair that's on't, Helen, that's dead, Was a sweet creature: such a ring as this, The last that e'er I took her at court, I saw upon her finger. BERTRAM Hers it was not. KING Now, pray you, let me see it; for mine eye, While I was speaking, oft was fasten'd to't. This ring was mine; and, when I gave it Helen, I bade her, if her fortunes ever stood Necessitied to help, that by this token I would relieve her. Had you that craft, to reave her Of what should stead her most? BERTRAM My gracious sovereign, Howe'er it pleases you to take it so, The ring was never hers. COUNTESS Son, on my life, I have seen her wear it; and she reckon'd it At her life's rate. LAFEU I am sure I saw her wear it. BERTRAM You are deceived, my lord; she never saw it: In Florence was it from a casement thrown me, Wrapp'd in a paper, which contain'd the name Of her that threw it: noble she was, and thought I stood engaged: but when I had subscribed 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 ceased In heavy satisfaction and would never Receive the ring again. KING Plutus himself, That knows the tinct and multiplying medicine, Hath not in nature's mystery more science Than I have in this ring: 'twas mine, 'twas Helen's, Whoever gave it you. Then, if you know That you are well acquainted with yourself, Confess 'twas hers, and by what rough enforcement You got it from her: she call'd the saints to surety That she would never put it from her finger, Unless she gave it to yourself in bed, Where you have never come, or sent it us Upon her great disaster. BERTRAM She never saw it. KING Thou speak'st it falsely, as I love mine honour; And makest conjectural fears to come into me Which I would fain shut out. If it should prove That thou art so inhuman,--'twill not prove so;-- And yet I know not: thou didst hate her deadly, And she is dead; which nothing, but to close Her eyes myself, could win me to believe, More than to see this ring. Take him away. [Guards seize BERTRAM] My fore-past proofs, howe'er the matter fall, Shall tax my fears of little vanity, Having vainly fear'd too little. Away with him! We'll sift this matter further. BERTRAM If you shall prove This ring was ever hers, you shall as easy Prove that I husbanded her bed in Florence, Where yet she never was. [Exit, guarded] KING I am wrapp'd in dismal thinkings. [Enter a Gentleman] Gentleman Gracious sovereign, Whether I have been to blame or no, I know not: Here's a petition from a Florentine, Who hath for four or five removes come short To tender it herself. I undertook it, Vanquish'd thereto by the fair grace and speech Of the poor suppliant, who by this I know Is here attending: her business looks in her With an importing visage; and she told me, In a sweet verbal brief, it did concern Your highness with herself. KING [Reads] Upon his many protestations to marry me when his wife was dead, I blush to say it, he won me. Now is the Count Rousillon a widower: his vows are forfeited to me, and my honour's paid to him. He stole from Florence, taking no leave, and I follow him to his country for justice: grant it me, O king! in you it best lies; otherwise a seducer flourishes, and a poor maid is undone. DIANA CAPILET. LAFEU I will buy me a son-in-law in a fair, and toll for this: I'll none of him. KING The heavens have thought well on thee Lafeu, To bring forth this discovery. Seek these suitors: Go speedily and bring again the count. I am afeard the life of Helen, lady, Was foully snatch'd. COUNTESS Now, justice on the doers! [Re-enter BERTRAM, guarded] KING I wonder, sir, sith wives are monsters to you, And that you fly them as you swear them lordship, Yet you desire to marry. [Enter Widow and DIANA] What woman's that? DIANA I am, my lord, a wretched Florentine, Derived from the ancient Capilet: My suit, as I do understand, you know, And therefore know how far I may be pitied. Widow I am her mother, sir, whose age and honour Both suffer under this complaint we bring, And both shall cease, without your remedy. KING Come hither, count; do you know these women? BERTRAM My lord, I neither can nor will deny But that I know them: do they charge me further? DIANA Why do you look so strange upon your wife? BERTRAM She's none of mine, my lord. DIANA 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. LAFEU Your reputation comes too short for my daughter; you are no husband for her. BERTRAM My lord, this is a fond and desperate creature, Whom sometime I have laugh'd with: let your highness Lay a more noble thought upon mine honour Than for to think that I would sink it here. KING Sir, for my thoughts, you have them ill to friend Till your deeds gain them: fairer prove your honour Than in my thought it lies. DIANA Good my lord, Ask him upon his oath, if he does think He had not my virginity. KING What say'st thou to her? BERTRAM She's impudent, my lord, And was a common gamester to the camp. DIANA He does me wrong, my lord; if I were so, He might have bought me at a common price: Do not believe him. O, behold this ring, Whose high respect and rich validity Did lack a parallel; yet for all that He gave it to a commoner o' the camp, If I be one. COUNTESS He blushes, and 'tis it: Of six preceding ancestors, that gem, Conferr'd by testament to the sequent issue, Hath it been owed and worn. This is his wife; That ring's a thousand proofs. KING Methought you said You saw one here in court could witness it. DIANA I did, my lord, but loath am to produce So bad an instrument: his name's Parolles. LAFEU I saw the man to-day, if man he be. KING Find him, and bring him hither. [Exit an Attendant] BERTRAM What of him? He's quoted for a most perfidious slave, With all the spots o' the world tax'd and debosh'd; Whose nature sickens but to speak a truth. Am I or that or this for what he'll utter, That will speak any thing? KING She hath that ring of yours. BERTRAM I think she has: certain it is I liked her, And boarded her i' the wanton way of youth: She knew her distance and did angle for me, Madding my eagerness with her restraint, As all impediments in fancy's course Are motives of more fancy; and, in fine, Her infinite cunning, with her modern grace, Subdued me to her rate: she got the ring; And I had that which any inferior might At market-price have bought. DIANA I must be patient: You, that have turn'd off a first so noble wife, May justly diet me. I pray you yet; Since you lack virtue, I will lose a husband; Send for your ring, I will return it home, And give me mine again. BERTRAM I have it not. KING What ring was yours, I pray you? DIANA Sir, much like The same upon your finger. KING Know you this ring? this ring was his of late. DIANA And this was it I gave him, being abed. KING The story then goes false, you threw it him Out of a casement. DIANA I have spoke the truth. [Enter PAROLLES] BERTRAM My lord, I do confess the ring was hers. KING You boggle shrewdly, every feather stars you. Is this the man you speak of? DIANA Ay, my lord. KING Tell me, sirrah, but tell me true, I charge you, Not fearing the displeasure of your master, Which on your just proceeding I'll keep off, By him and by this woman here what know you? PAROLLES So please your majesty, my master hath been an honourable gentleman: tricks he hath had in him, which gentlemen have. KING Come, come, to the purpose: did he love this woman? PAROLLES Faith, sir, he did love her; but how? KING How, I pray you? PAROLLES He did love her, sir, as a gentleman loves a woman. KING How is that? PAROLLES He loved her, sir, and loved her not. KING As thou art a knave, and no knave. What an equivocal companion is this! PAROLLES I am a poor man, and at your majesty's command. LAFEU He's a good drum, my lord, but a naughty orator. DIANA Do you know he promised me marriage? PAROLLES Faith, I know more than I'll speak. KING But wilt thou not speak all thou knowest? PAROLLES Yes, so please your majesty. I did go between them, as I said; but more than that, he loved her: for indeed he was mad for her, and talked of Satan and of Limbo and of Furies and I know not what: 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. KING Thou hast spoken all already, unless thou canst say they are married: but thou art too fine in thy evidence; therefore stand aside. This ring, you say, was yours? DIANA Ay, my good lord. KING Where did you buy it? or who gave it you? DIANA It was not given me, nor I did not buy it. KING Who lent it you? DIANA It was not lent me neither. KING Where did you find it, then? DIANA I found it not. KING If it were yours by none of all these ways, How could you give it him? DIANA I never gave it him. LAFEU This woman's an easy glove, my lord; she goes off and on at pleasure. KING This ring was mine; I gave it his first wife. DIANA It might be yours or hers, for aught I know. KING Take her away; I do not like her now; To prison with her: and away with him. Unless thou tell'st me where thou hadst this ring, Thou diest within this hour. DIANA I'll never tell you. KING Take her away. DIANA I'll put in bail, my liege. KING I think thee now some common customer. DIANA By Jove, if ever I knew man, 'twas you. KING Wherefore hast thou accused him all this while? DIANA Because he's guilty, and he is not guilty: He knows I am no maid, and he'll swear to't; I'll swear I am a maid, and he knows not. Great king, I am no strumpet, by my life; I am either maid, or else this old man's wife. KING She does abuse our ears: to prison with her. DIANA Good mother, fetch my bail. Stay, royal sir: [Exit Widow] The jeweller that owes the ring is sent for, And he shall surety me. But for this lord, Who hath abused me, as he knows himself, Though yet he never harm'd me, here I quit him: He knows himself my bed he hath defiled; And at that time he got his wife with child: Dead though she be, she feels her young one kick: So there's my riddle: one that's dead is quick: And now behold the meaning. [Re-enter Widow, with HELENA] KING Is there no exorcist Beguiles the truer office of mine eyes? Is't real that I see? HELENA No, my good lord; 'Tis but the shadow of a wife you see, The name and not the thing. BERTRAM Both, both. O, pardon! HELENA O my good lord, when I was like this maid, I found you wondrous kind. There is your ring; And, look you, here's your letter; this it says: 'When from my finger you can get this ring And are by me with child,' &c. This is done: Will you be mine, now you are doubly won? BERTRAM If she, my liege, can make me know this clearly, I'll love her dearly, ever, ever dearly. HELENA If it appear not plain and prove untrue, Deadly divorce step between me and you! O my dear mother, do I see you living? LAFEU Mine eyes smell onions; I shall weep anon: [To PAROLLES] Good Tom Drum, lend me a handkercher: so, I thank thee: wait on me home, I'll make sport with thee: Let thy courtesies alone, they are scurvy ones. KING Let us from point to point this story know, To make the even truth in pleasure flow. [To DIANA] If thou be'st yet a fresh uncropped flower, Choose thou thy husband, and I'll pay thy dower; For I can guess that by thy honest aid Thou keep'st a wife herself, thyself a maid. Of that and all the progress, more or less, Resolvedly more leisure shall express: All yet seems well; and if it end so meet, The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet. [Flourish] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL EPILOGUE KING The king's a beggar, now the play is done: All is well ended, if this suit be won, That you express content; which we will pay, With strife to please you, day exceeding day: Ours be your patience then, and yours our parts; Your gentle hands lend us, and take our hearts. [Exeunt] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE DRAMATIS PERSONAE ANTIOCHUS king of Antioch. PERICLES prince of Tyre. HELICANUS | | two lords of Tyre. ESCANES | SIMONIDES king of Pentapolis. CLEON governor of Tarsus. LYSIMACHUS governor of Mytilene. CERIMON a lord of Ephesus. THALIARD a lord of Antioch. PHILEMON servant to Cerimon. LEONINE servant to Dionyza. Marshal. (Marshal:) A Pandar. (Pandar:) BOULT his servant. The Daughter of Antiochus. (Daughter:) DIONYZA wife to Cleon. THAISA daughter to Simonides. MARINA daughter to Pericles and Thaisa. LYCHORIDA nurse to Marina. A Bawd. (Bawd:) Lords, Knights, Gentlemen, Sailors, Pirates, Fishermen, and Messengers. (Lord:) (First Lord:) (Second Lord:) (Third Lord:) (First Knight:) (Second Knight:) (Third Knight:) (First Gentleman:) (Second Gentleman:) (First Sailor:) (Second Sailor:) (First Pirate:) (Second Pirate:) (Third Pirate:) (First Fisherman:) (Second Fisherman:) (Third Fisherman:) (Messenger:) DIANA: GOWER as Chorus. SCENE Dispersedly in various countries. PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT I [Enter GOWER] [Before the palace of Antioch] To sing a song that old was sung, From ashes ancient Gower is come; Assuming man's infirmities, To glad your ear, and please your eyes. It hath been sung at festivals, On ember-eves and holy-ales; And lords and ladies in their lives Have read it for restoratives: The purchase is to make men glorious; Et bonum quo antiquius, eo melius. If you, born in these latter times, When wit's more ripe, accept my rhymes. And that to hear an old man sing May to your wishes pleasure bring I life would wish, and that I might Waste it for you, like taper-light. This Antioch, then, Antiochus the Great Built up, this city, for his chiefest seat: The fairest in all Syria, I tell you what mine authors say: This king unto him took a fere, Who died and left a female heir, So buxom, blithe, and full of face, As heaven had lent her all his grace; With whom the father liking took, And her to incest did provoke: Bad child; worse father! to entice his own To evil should be done by none: But custom what they did begin Was with long use account no sin. The beauty of this sinful dame Made many princes thither frame, To seek her as a bed-fellow, In marriage-pleasures play-fellow: Which to prevent he made a law, To keep her still, and men in awe, That whoso ask'd her for his wife, His riddle told not, lost his life: So for her many a wight did die, As yon grim looks do testify. What now ensues, to the judgment of your eye I give, my cause who best can justify. [Exit] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT I SCENE I Antioch. A room in the palace. [Enter ANTIOCHUS, Prince PERICLES, and followers] ANTIOCHUS Young prince of Tyre, you have at large received The danger of the task you undertake. PERICLES I have, Antiochus, and, with a soul Embolden'd with the glory of her praise, Think death no hazard in this enterprise. ANTIOCHUS Bring in our daughter, clothed like a bride, For the embracements even of Jove himself; At whose conception, till Lucina reign'd, Nature this dowry gave, to glad her presence, The senate-house of planets all did sit, To knit in her their best perfections. [Music. Enter the Daughter of ANTIOCHUS] PERICLES See where she comes, apparell'd like the spring, Graces her subjects, and her thoughts the king Of every virtue gives renown to men! Her face the book of praises, where is read Nothing but curious pleasures, as from thence Sorrow were ever razed and testy wrath Could never be her mild companion. You gods that made me man, and sway in love, That have inflamed desire in my breast To taste the fruit of yon celestial tree, Or die in the adventure, be my helps, As I am son and servant to your will, To compass such a boundless happiness! ANTIOCHUS Prince Pericles,-- PERICLES That would be son to great Antiochus. ANTIOCHUS Before thee stands this fair Hesperides, With golden fruit, but dangerous to be touch'd; For death-like dragons here affright thee hard: Her face, like heaven, enticeth thee to view Her countless glory, which desert must gain; And which, without desert, because thine eye Presumes to reach, all thy whole heap must die. Yon sometimes famous princes, like thyself, Drawn by report, adventurous by desire, Tell thee, with speechless tongues and semblance pale, That without covering, save yon field of stars, Here they stand martyrs, slain in Cupid's wars; And with dead cheeks advise thee to desist For going on death's net, whom none resist. PERICLES Antiochus, I thank thee, who hath taught My frail mortality to know itself, And by those fearful objects to prepare This body, like to them, to what I must; For death remember'd should be like a mirror, Who tells us life's but breath, to trust it error. I'll make my will then, and, as sick men do Who know the world, see heaven, but, feeling woe, Gripe not at earthly joys as erst they did; So I bequeath a happy peace to you And all good men, as every prince should do; My riches to the earth from whence they came; But my unspotted fire of love to you. [To the Daughter of ANTIOCHUS] Thus ready for the way of life or death, I wait the sharpest blow, Antiochus. ANTIOCHUS Scorning advice, read the conclusion then: Which read and not expounded, 'tis decreed, As these before thee thou thyself shalt bleed. Daughter Of all say'd yet, mayst thou prove prosperous! Of all say'd yet, I wish thee happiness! PERICLES Like a bold champion, I assume the lists, Nor ask advice of any other thought But faithfulness and courage. [He reads the riddle] I am no viper, yet I feed On mother's flesh which did me breed. I sought a husband, in which labour I found that kindness in a father: He's father, son, and husband mild; I mother, wife, and yet his child. How they may be, and yet in two, As you will live, resolve it you. Sharp physic is the last: but, O you powers That give heaven countless eyes to view men's acts, Why cloud they not their sights perpetually, If this be true, which makes me pale to read it? Fair glass of light, I loved you, and could still, [Takes hold of the hand of the Daughter of ANTIOCHUS] Were not this glorious casket stored with ill: But I must tell you, now my thoughts revolt For he's no man on whom perfections wait That, knowing sin within, will touch the gate. You are a fair viol, and your sense the strings; Who, finger'd to make man his lawful music, Would draw heaven down, and all the gods, to hearken: But being play'd upon before your time, Hell only danceth at so harsh a chime. Good sooth, I care not for you. ANTIOCHUS Prince Pericles, touch not, upon thy life. For that's an article within our law, As dangerous as the rest. Your time's expired: Either expound now, or receive your sentence. PERICLES Great king, Few love to hear the sins they love to act; 'Twould braid yourself too near for me to tell it. Who has a book of all that monarchs do, He's more secure to keep it shut than shown: For vice repeated is like the wandering wind. Blows dust in other's eyes, to spread itself; And yet the end of all is bought thus dear, The breath is gone, and the sore eyes see clear: To stop the air would hurt them. The blind mole casts Copp'd hills towards heaven, to tell the earth is throng'd By man's oppression; and the poor worm doth die for't. Kings are earth's gods; in vice their law's their will; And if Jove stray, who dares say Jove doth ill? It is enough you know; and it is fit, What being more known grows worse, to smother it. All love the womb that their first being bred, Then give my tongue like leave to love my head. ANTIOCHUS [Aside] Heaven, that I had thy head! he has found the meaning: But I will gloze with him.--Young prince of Tyre, Though by the tenor of our strict edict, Your exposition misinterpreting, We might proceed to cancel of your days; Yet hope, succeeding from so fair a tree As your fair self, doth tune us otherwise: Forty days longer we do respite you; If by which time our secret be undone, This mercy shows we'll joy in such a son: And until then your entertain shall be As doth befit our honour and your worth. [Exeunt all but PERICLES] PERICLES How courtesy would seem to cover sin, When what is done is like an hypocrite, The which is good in nothing but in sight! If it be true that I interpret false, Then were it certain you were not so bad As with foul incest to abuse your soul; Where now you're both a father and a son, By your untimely claspings with your child, Which pleasure fits an husband, not a father; And she an eater of her mother's flesh, By the defiling of her parent's bed; And both like serpents are, who though they feed On sweetest flowers, yet they poison breed. Antioch, farewell! for wisdom sees, those men Blush not in actions blacker than the night, Will shun no course to keep them from the light. One sin, I know, another doth provoke; Murder's as near to lust as flame to smoke: Poison and treason are the hands of sin, Ay, and the targets, to put off the shame: Then, lest my lie be cropp'd to keep you clear, By flight I'll shun the danger which I fear. [Exit] [Re-enter ANTIOCHUS] ANTIOCHUS He hath found the meaning, for which we mean To have his head. He must not live to trumpet forth my infamy, Nor tell the world Antiochus doth sin In such a loathed manner; And therefore instantly this prince must die: For by his fall my honour must keep high. Who attends us there? [Enter THALIARD] THALIARD Doth your highness call? ANTIOCHUS Thaliard, You are of our chamber, and our mind partakes Her private actions to your secrecy; And for your faithfulness we will advance you. Thaliard, behold, here's poison, and here's gold; We hate the prince of Tyre, and thou must kill him: It fits thee not to ask the reason why, Because we bid it. Say, is it done? THALIARD My lord, 'Tis done. ANTIOCHUS Enough. [Enter a Messenger] Let your breath cool yourself, telling your haste. Messenger My lord, prince Pericles is fled. [Exit] ANTIOCHUS As thou Wilt live, fly after: and like an arrow shot From a well-experienced archer hits the mark His eye doth level at, so thou ne'er return Unless thou say 'Prince Pericles is dead.' THALIARD My lord, If I can get him within my pistol's length, I'll make him sure enough: so, farewell to your highness. ANTIOCHUS Thaliard, adieu! [Exit THALIARD] Till Pericles be dead, My heart can lend no succor to my head. [Exit] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT I SCENE II Tyre. A room in the palace. [Enter PERICLES] PERICLES [To Lords without] Let none disturb us.--Why should this change of thoughts, The sad companion, dull-eyed melancholy, Be my so used a guest as not an hour, In the day's glorious walk, or peaceful night, The tomb where grief should sleep, can breed me quiet? Here pleasures court mine eyes, and mine eyes shun them, And danger, which I fear'd, is at Antioch, Whose aim seems far too short to hit me here: Yet neither pleasure's art can joy my spirits, Nor yet the other's distance comfort me. Then it is thus: the passions of the mind, That have their first conception by mis-dread, Have after-nourishment and life by care; And what was first but fear what might be done, Grows elder now and cares it be not done. And so with me: the great Antiochus, 'Gainst whom I am too little to contend, Since he's so great can make his will his act, Will think me speaking, though I swear to silence; Nor boots it me to say I honour him. If he suspect I may dishonour him: And what may make him blush in being known, He'll stop the course by which it might be known; With hostile forces he'll o'erspread the land, And with the ostent of war will look so huge, Amazement shall drive courage from the state; Our men be vanquish'd ere they do resist, And subjects punish'd that ne'er thought offence: Which care of them, not pity of myself, Who am no more but as the tops of trees, Which fence the roots they grow by and defend them, Makes both my body pine and soul to languish, And punish that before that he would punish. [Enter HELICANUS, with other Lords] First Lord Joy and all comfort in your sacred breast! Second Lord And keep your mind, till you return to us, Peaceful and comfortable! HELICANUS Peace, peace, and give experience tongue. They do abuse the king that flatter him: For flattery is the bellows blows up sin; The thing which is flatter'd, but a spark, To which that blast gives heat and stronger glowing; Whereas reproof, obedient and in order, Fits kings, as they are men, for they may err. When Signior Sooth here does proclaim a peace, He flatters you, makes war upon your life. Prince, pardon me, or strike me, if you please; I cannot be much lower than my knees. PERICLES All leave us else; but let your cares o'erlook What shipping and what lading's in our haven, And then return to us. [Exeunt Lords] Helicanus, thou Hast moved us: what seest thou in our looks? HELICANUS An angry brow, dread lord. PERICLES If there be such a dart in princes' frowns, How durst thy tongue move anger to our face? HELICANUS How dare the plants look up to heaven, from whence They have their nourishment? PERICLES Thou know'st I have power To take thy life from thee. HELICANUS [Kneeling] I have ground the axe myself; Do you but strike the blow. PERICLES Rise, prithee, rise. Sit down: thou art no flatterer: I thank thee for it; and heaven forbid That kings should let their ears hear their faults hid! Fit counsellor and servant for a prince, Who by thy wisdom makest a prince thy servant, What wouldst thou have me do? HELICANUS To bear with patience Such griefs as you yourself do lay upon yourself. PERICLES Thou speak'st like a physician, Helicanus, That minister'st a potion unto me That thou wouldst tremble to receive thyself. Attend me, then: I went to Antioch, Where as thou know'st, against the face of death, I sought the purchase of a glorious beauty. From whence an issue I might propagate, Are arms to princes, and bring joys to subjects. Her face was to mine eye beyond all wonder; The rest--hark in thine ear--as black as incest: Which by my knowledge found, the sinful father Seem'd not to strike, but smooth: but thou know'st this, 'Tis time to fear when tyrants seem to kiss. Such fear so grew in me, I hither fled, Under the covering of a careful night, Who seem'd my good protector; and, being here, Bethought me what was past, what might succeed. I knew him tyrannous; and tyrants' fears Decrease not, but grow faster than the years: And should he doubt it, as no doubt he doth, That I should open to the listening air How many worthy princes' bloods were shed, To keep his bed of blackness unlaid ope, To lop that doubt, he'll fill this land with arms, And make pretence of wrong that I have done him: When all, for mine, if I may call offence, Must feel war's blow, who spares not innocence: Which love to all, of which thyself art one, Who now reprovest me for it,-- HELICANUS Alas, sir! PERICLES Drew sleep out of mine eyes, blood from my cheeks, Musings into my mind, with thousand doubts How I might stop this tempest ere it came; And finding little comfort to relieve them, I thought it princely charity to grieve them. HELICANUS Well, my lord, since you have given me leave to speak. Freely will I speak. Antiochus you fear, And justly too, I think, you fear the tyrant, Who either by public war or private treason Will take away your life. Therefore, my lord, go travel for a while, Till that his rage and anger be forgot, Or till the Destinies do cut his thread of life. Your rule direct to any; if to me. Day serves not light more faithful than I'll be. PERICLES I do not doubt thy faith; But should he wrong my liberties in my absence? HELICANUS We'll mingle our bloods together in the earth, From whence we had our being and our birth. PERICLES Tyre, I now look from thee then, and to Tarsus Intend my travel, where I'll hear from thee; And by whose letters I'll dispose myself. The care I had and have of subjects' good On thee I lay whose wisdom's strength can bear it. I'll take thy word for faith, not ask thine oath: Who shuns not to break one will sure crack both: But in our orbs we'll live so round and safe, That time of both this truth shall ne'er convince, Thou show'dst a subject's shine, I a true prince. [Exeunt] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT I SCENE III Tyre. An ante-chamber in the palace. [Enter THALIARD] THALIARD So, this is Tyre, and this the court. Here must I kill King Pericles; and if I do it not, I am sure to be hanged at home: 'tis dangerous. Well, I perceive he was a wise fellow, and had good discretion, that, being bid to ask what he would of the king, desired he might know none of his secrets: now do I see he had some reason for't; for if a king bid a man be a villain, he's bound by the indenture of his oath to be one! Hush! here come the lords of Tyre. [Enter HELICANUS and ESCANES, with other Lords of Tyre] HELICANUS You shall not need, my fellow peers of Tyre, Further to question me of your king's departure: His seal'd commission, left in trust with me, Doth speak sufficiently he's gone to travel. THALIARD [Aside] How! the king gone! HELICANUS If further yet you will be satisfied, Why, as it were unlicensed of your loves, He would depart, I'll give some light unto you. Being at Antioch-- THALIARD [Aside] What from Antioch? HELICANUS Royal Antiochus--on what cause I know not-- Took some displeasure at him; at least he judged so: And doubting lest that he had err'd or sinn'd, To show his sorrow, he'ld correct himself; So puts himself unto the shipman's toil, With whom each minute threatens life or death. THALIARD [Aside] Well, I perceive I shall not be hang'd now, although I would; But since he's gone, the king's seas must please: He 'scaped the land, to perish at the sea. I'll present myself. Peace to the lords of Tyre! HELICANUS Lord Thaliard from Antiochus is welcome. THALIARD From him I come With message unto princely Pericles; But since my landing I have understood Your lord has betook himself to unknown travels, My message must return from whence it came. HELICANUS We have no reason to desire it, Commended to our master, not to us: Yet, ere you shall depart, this we desire, As friends to Antioch, we may feast in Tyre. [Exeunt] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT I SCENE IV Tarsus. A room in the Governor's house. [Enter CLEON, the governor of Tarsus, with DIONYZA, and others] CLEON My Dionyza, shall we rest us here, And by relating tales of others' griefs, See if 'twill teach us to forget our own? DIONYZA That were to blow at fire in hope to quench it; For who digs hills because they do aspire Throws down one mountain to cast up a higher. O my distressed lord, even such our griefs are; Here they're but felt, and seen with mischief's eyes, But like to groves, being topp'd, they higher rise. CLEON O Dionyza, Who wanteth food, and will not say he wants it, Or can conceal his hunger till he famish? Our tongues and sorrows do sound deep Our woes into the air; our eyes do weep, Till tongues fetch breath that may proclaim them louder; That, if heaven slumber while their creatures want, They may awake their helps to comfort them. I'll then discourse our woes, felt several years, And wanting breath to speak help me with tears. DIONYZA I'll do my best, sir. CLEON This Tarsus, o'er which I have the government, A city on whom plenty held full hand, For riches strew'd herself even in the streets; Whose towers bore heads so high they kiss'd the clouds, And strangers ne'er beheld but wondered at; Whose men and dames so jetted and adorn'd, Like one another's glass to trim them by: Their tables were stored full, to glad the sight, And not so much to feed on as delight; All poverty was scorn'd, and pride so great, The name of help grew odious to repeat. DIONYZA O, 'tis too true. CLEON But see what heaven can do! By this our change, These mouths, who but of late, earth, sea, and air, Were all too little to content and please, Although they gave their creatures in abundance, As houses are defiled for want of use, They are now starved for want of exercise: Those palates who, not yet two summers younger, Must have inventions to delight the taste, Would now be glad of bread, and beg for it: Those mothers who, to nousle up their babes, Thought nought too curious, are ready now To eat those little darlings whom they loved. So sharp are hunger's teeth, that man and wife Draw lots who first shall die to lengthen life: Here stands a lord, and there a lady weeping; Here many sink, yet those which see them fall Have scarce strength left to give them burial. Is not this true? DIONYZA Our cheeks and hollow eyes do witness it. CLEON O, let those cities that of plenty's cup And her prosperities so largely taste, With their superfluous riots, hear these tears! The misery of Tarsus may be theirs. [Enter a Lord] Lord Where's the lord governor? CLEON Here. Speak out thy sorrows which thou bring'st in haste, For comfort is too far for us to expect. Lord We have descried, upon our neighbouring shore, A portly sail of ships make hitherward. CLEON I thought as much. One sorrow never comes but brings an heir, That may succeed as his inheritor; And so in ours: some neighbouring nation, Taking advantage of our misery, Hath stuff'd these hollow vessels with their power, To beat us down, the which are down already; And make a conquest of unhappy me, Whereas no glory's got to overcome. Lord That's the least fear; for, by the semblance Of their white flags display'd, they bring us peace, And come to us as favourers, not as foes. CLEON Thou speak'st like him's untutor'd to repeat: Who makes the fairest show means most deceit. But bring they what they will and what they can, What need we fear? The ground's the lowest, and we are half way there. Go tell their general we attend him here, To know for what he comes, and whence he comes, And what he craves. Lord I go, my lord. [Exit] CLEON Welcome is peace, if he on peace consist; If wars, we are unable to resist. [Enter PERICLES with Attendants] PERICLES Lord governor, for so we hear you are, Let not our ships and number of our men Be like a beacon fired to amaze your eyes. We have heard your miseries as far as Tyre, And seen the desolation of your streets: Nor come we to add sorrow to your tears, But to relieve them of their heavy load; And these our ships, you happily may think Are like the Trojan horse was stuff'd within With bloody veins, expecting overthrow, Are stored with corn to make your needy bread, And give them life whom hunger starved half dead. All The gods of Greece protect you! And we'll pray for you. PERICLES Arise, I pray you, rise: We do not look for reverence, but to love, And harbourage for ourself, our ships, and men. CLEON The which when any shall not gratify, Or pay you with unthankfulness in thought, Be it our wives, our children, or ourselves, The curse of heaven and men succeed their evils! Till when,--the which I hope shall ne'er be seen,-- Your grace is welcome to our town and us. PERICLES Which welcome we'll accept; feast here awhile, Until our stars that frown lend us a smile. [Exeunt] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT II [Enter GOWER] GOWER Here have you seen a mighty king His child, I wis, to incest bring; A better prince and benign lord, That will prove awful both in deed and word. Be quiet then as men should be, Till he hath pass'd necessity. I'll show you those in troubles reign, Losing a mite, a mountain gain. The good in conversation, To whom I give my benison, Is still at Tarsus, where each man Thinks all is writ he speken can; And, to remember what he does, Build his statue to make him glorious: But tidings to the contrary Are brought your eyes; what need speak I? DUMB SHOW. [Enter at one door PERICLES talking with CLEON; all the train with them. Enter at another door a Gentleman, with a letter to PERICLES; PERICLES shows the letter to CLEON; gives the Messenger a reward, and knights him. Exit PERICLES at one door, and CLEON at another] Good Helicane, that stay'd at home, Not to eat honey like a drone From others' labours; for though he strive To killen bad, keep good alive; And to fulfil his prince' desire, Sends word of all that haps in Tyre: How Thaliard came full bent with sin And had intent to murder him; And that in Tarsus was not best Longer for him to make his rest. He, doing so, put forth to seas, Where when men been, there's seldom ease; For now the wind begins to blow; Thunder above and deeps below Make such unquiet, that the ship Should house him safe is wreck'd and split; And he, good prince, having all lost, By waves from coast to coast is tost: All perishen of man, of pelf, Ne aught escapen but himself; Till fortune, tired with doing bad, Threw him ashore, to give him glad: And here he comes. What shall be next, Pardon old Gower,--this longs the text. [Exit] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT II SCENE I Pentapolis. An open place by the sea-side. [Enter PERICLES, wet] PERICLES Yet cease your ire, you angry stars of heaven! Wind, rain, and thunder, remember, earthly man Is but a substance that must yield to you; And I, as fits my nature, do obey you: Alas, the sea hath cast me on the rocks, Wash'd me from shore to shore, and left me breath Nothing to think on but ensuing death: Let it suffice the greatness of your powers To have bereft a prince of all his fortunes; And having thrown him from your watery grave, Here to have death in peace is all he'll crave. [Enter three FISHERMEN] First Fisherman What, ho, Pilch! Second Fisherman Ha, come and bring away the nets! First Fisherman What, Patch-breech, I say! Third Fisherman What say you, master? First Fisherman Look how thou stirrest now! come away, or I'll fetch thee with a wanion. Third Fisherman Faith, master, I am thinking of the poor men that were cast away before us even now. First Fisherman Alas, poor souls, it grieved my heart to hear what pitiful cries they made to us to help them, when, well-a-day, we could scarce help ourselves. Third Fisherman Nay, master, said not I as much when I saw the porpus how he bounced and tumbled? they say they're half fish, half flesh: a plague on them, they ne'er come but I look to be washed. Master, I marvel how the fishes live in the sea. First Fisherman Why, as men do a-land; the great ones eat up the little ones: I can compare our rich misers to nothing so fitly as to a whale; a' plays and tumbles, driving the poor fry before him, and at last devours them all at a mouthful: such whales have I heard on o' the land, who never leave gaping till they've swallowed the whole parish, church, steeple, bells, and all. PERICLES [Aside] A pretty moral. Third Fisherman But, master, if I had been the sexton, I would have been that day in the belfry. Second Fisherman Why, man? Third Fisherman Because he should have swallowed me too: and when I had been in his belly, I would have kept such a jangling of the bells, that he should never have left, till he cast bells, steeple, church, and parish up again. But if the good King Simonides were of my mind,-- PERICLES [Aside] Simonides! Third Fisherman We would purge the land of these drones, that rob the bee of her honey. PERICLES [Aside] How from the finny subject of the sea These fishers tell the infirmities of men; And from their watery empire recollect All that may men approve or men detect! Peace be at your labour, honest fishermen. Second Fisherman Honest! good fellow, what's that? If it be a day fits you, search out of the calendar, and nobody look after it. PERICLES May see the sea hath cast upon your coast. Second Fisherman What a drunken knave was the sea to cast thee in our way! PERICLES A man whom both the waters and the wind, In that vast tennis-court, have made the ball For them to play upon, entreats you pity him: He asks of you, that never used to beg. First Fisherman No, friend, cannot you beg? Here's them in our country Greece gets more with begging than we can do with working. Second Fisherman Canst thou catch any fishes, then? PERICLES I never practised it. Second Fisherman Nay, then thou wilt starve, sure; for here's nothing to be got now-a-days, unless thou canst fish for't. PERICLES What I have been I have forgot to know; But what I am, want teaches me to think on: A man throng'd up with cold: my veins are chill, And have no more of life than may suffice To give my tongue that heat to ask your help; Which if you shall refuse, when I am dead, For that I am a man, pray see me buried. First Fisherman Die quoth-a? Now gods forbid! I have a gown here; come, put it on; keep thee warm. Now, afore me, a handsome fellow! Come, thou shalt go home, and we'll have flesh for holidays, fish for fasting-days, and moreo'er puddings and flap-jacks, and thou shalt be welcome. PERICLES I thank you, sir. Second Fisherman Hark you, my friend; you said you could not beg. PERICLES I did but crave. Second Fisherman But crave! Then I'll turn craver too, and so I shall 'scape whipping. PERICLES Why, are all your beggars whipped, then? Second Fisherman O, not all, my friend, not all; for if all your beggars were whipped, I would wish no better office than to be beadle. But, master, I'll go draw up the net. [Exit with Third Fisherman] PERICLES [Aside] How well this honest mirth becomes their labour! First Fisherman Hark you, sir, do you know where ye are? PERICLES Not well. First Fisherman Why, I'll tell you: this is called Pentapolis, and our king the good Simonides. PERICLES The good King Simonides, do you call him. First Fisherman Ay, sir; and he deserves so to be called for his peaceable reign and good government. PERICLES He is a happy king, since he gains from his subjects the name of good by his government. How far is his court distant from this shore? First Fisherman Marry, sir, half a day's journey: and I'll tell you, he hath a fair daughter, and to-morrow is her birth-day; and there are princes and knights come from all parts of the world to just and tourney for her love. PERICLES Were my fortunes equal to my desires, I could wish to make one there. First Fisherman O, sir, things must be as they may; and what a man cannot get, he may lawfully deal for--his wife's soul. [Re-enter Second and Third Fishermen, drawing up a net] Second Fisherman Help, master, help! here's a fish hangs in the net, like a poor man's right in the law; 'twill hardly come out. Ha! bots on't, 'tis come at last, and 'tis turned to a rusty armour. PERICLES An armour, friends! I pray you, let me see it. Thanks, fortune, yet, that, after all my crosses, Thou givest me somewhat to repair myself; And though it was mine own, part of my heritage, Which my dead father did bequeath to me. With this strict charge, even as he left his life, 'Keep it, my Pericles; it hath been a shield Twixt me and death;'--and pointed to this brace;-- 'For that it saved me, keep it; in like necessity-- The which the gods protect thee from!--may defend thee.' It kept where I kept, I so dearly loved it; Till the rough seas, that spare not any man, Took it in rage, though calm'd have given't again: I thank thee for't: my shipwreck now's no ill, Since I have here my father's gift in's will. First Fisherman What mean you, sir? PERICLES To beg of you, kind friends, this coat of worth, For it was sometime target to a king; I know it by this mark. He loved me dearly, And for his sake I wish the having of it; And that you'ld guide me to your sovereign's court, Where with it I may appear a gentleman; And if that ever my low fortune's better, I'll pay your bounties; till then rest your debtor. First Fisherman Why, wilt thou tourney for the lady? PERICLES I'll show the virtue I have borne in arms. First Fisherman Why, do 'e take it, and the gods give thee good on't! Second Fisherman Ay, but hark you, my friend; 'twas we that made up this garment through the rough seams of the waters: there are certain condolements, certain vails. I hope, sir, if you thrive, you'll remember from whence you had it. PERICLES Believe 't, I will. By your furtherance I am clothed in steel; And, spite of all the rapture of the sea, This jewel holds his building on my arm: Unto thy value I will mount myself Upon a courser, whose delightful steps Shall make the gazer joy to see him tread. Only, my friend, I yet am unprovided Of a pair of bases. Second Fisherman We'll sure provide: thou shalt have my best gown to make thee a pair; and I'll bring thee to the court myself. PERICLES Then honour be but a goal to my will, This day I'll rise, or else add ill to ill. [Exeunt] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT II SCENE II The same. A public way or platform leading to the lists. A pavilion by the side of it for the reception of King, Princess, Lords, &c. [Enter SIMONIDES, THAISA, Lords, and Attendants] SIMONIDES Are the knights ready to begin the triumph? First Lord They are, my liege; And stay your coming to present themselves. SIMONIDES Return them, we are ready; and our daughter, In honour of whose birth these triumphs are, Sits here, like beauty's child, whom nature gat For men to see, and seeing wonder at. [Exit a Lord] THAISA It pleaseth you, my royal father, to express My commendations great, whose merit's less. SIMONIDES It's fit it should be so; for princes are A model which heaven makes like to itself: As jewels lose their glory if neglected, So princes their renowns if not respected. 'Tis now your honour, daughter, to explain The labour of each knight in his device. THAISA Which, to preserve mine honour, I'll perform. [Enter a Knight; he passes over, and his Squire presents his shield to the Princess] SIMONIDES Who is the first that doth prefer himself? THAISA A knight of Sparta, my renowned father; And the device he bears upon his shield Is a black Ethiope reaching at the sun The word, 'Lux tua vita mihi.' SIMONIDES He loves you well that holds his life of you. [The Second Knight passes over] Who is the second that presents himself? THAISA A prince of Macedon, my royal father; And the device he bears upon his shield Is an arm'd knight that's conquer'd by a lady; The motto thus, in Spanish, 'Piu por dulzura que por fuerza.' [The Third Knight passes over] SIMONIDES And what's the third? THAISA The third of Antioch; And his device, a wreath of chivalry; The word, 'Me pompae provexit apex.' [The Fourth Knight passes over] SIMONIDES What is the fourth? THAISA A burning torch that's turned upside down; The word, 'Quod me alit, me extinguit.' SIMONIDES Which shows that beauty hath his power and will, Which can as well inflame as it can kill. [The Fifth Knight passes over] THAISA The fifth, an hand environed with clouds, Holding out gold that's by the touchstone tried; The motto thus, 'Sic spectanda fides.' [The Sixth Knight, PERICLES, passes over] SIMONIDES And what's The sixth and last, the which the knight himself With such a graceful courtesy deliver'd? THAISA He seems to be a stranger; but his present is A wither'd branch, that's only green at top; The motto, 'In hac spe vivo.' SIMONIDES A pretty moral; From the dejected state wherein he is, He hopes by you his fortunes yet may flourish. First Lord He had need mean better than his outward show Can any way speak in his just commend; For by his rusty outside he appears To have practised more the whipstock than the lance. Second Lord He well may be a stranger, for he comes To an honour'd triumph strangely furnished. Third Lord And on set purpose let his armour rust Until this day, to scour it in the dust. SIMONIDES Opinion's but a fool, that makes us scan The outward habit by the inward man. But stay, the knights are coming: we will withdraw Into the gallery. [Exeunt] [Great shouts within and all cry 'The mean knight!'] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT II SCENE III The same. A hall of state: a banquet prepared. [Enter SIMONIDES, THAISA, Lords, Attendants, and Knights, from tilting] SIMONIDES Knights, To say you're welcome were superfluous. To place upon the volume of your deeds, As in a title-page, your worth in arms, Were more than you expect, or more than's fit, Since every worth in show commends itself. Prepare for mirth, for mirth becomes a feast: You are princes and my guests. THAISA But you, my knight and guest; To whom this wreath of victory I give, And crown you king of this day's happiness. PERICLES 'Tis more by fortune, lady, than by merit. SIMONIDES Call it by what you will, the day is yours; And here, I hope, is none that envies it. In framing an artist, art hath thus decreed, To make some good, but others to exceed; And you are her labour'd scholar. Come, queen o' the feast,-- For, daughter, so you are,--here take your place: Marshal the rest, as they deserve their grace. KNIGHTS We are honour'd much by good Simonides. SIMONIDES Your presence glads our days: honour we love; For who hates honour hates the gods above. Marshal Sir, yonder is your place. PERICLES Some other is more fit. First Knight Contend not, sir; for we are gentlemen That neither in our hearts nor outward eyes Envy the great nor do the low despise. PERICLES You are right courteous knights. SIMONIDES Sit, sir, sit. PERICLES By Jove, I wonder, that is king of thoughts, These cates resist me, she but thought upon. THAISA By Juno, that is queen of marriage, All viands that I eat do seem unsavoury. Wishing him my meat. Sure, he's a gallant gentleman. SIMONIDES He's but a country gentleman; Has done no more than other knights have done; Has broken a staff or so; so let it pass. THAISA To me he seems like diamond to glass. PERICLES Yon king's to me like to my father's picture, Which tells me in that glory once he was; Had princes sit, like stars, about his throne, And he the sun, for them to reverence; None that beheld him, but, like lesser lights, Did vail their crowns to his supremacy: Where now his son's like a glow-worm in the night, The which hath fire in darkness, none in light: Whereby I see that Time's the king of men, He's both their parent, and he is their grave, And gives them what he will, not what they crave. SIMONIDES What, are you merry, knights? Knights Who can be other in this royal presence? SIMONIDES Here, with a cup that's stored unto the brim,-- As you do love, fill to your mistress' lips,-- We drink this health to you. KNIGHTS We thank your grace. SIMONIDES Yet pause awhile: Yon knight doth sit too melancholy, As if the entertainment in our court Had not a show might countervail his worth. Note it not you, Thaisa? THAISA What is it To me, my father? SIMONIDES O, attend, my daughter: Princes in this should live like gods above, Who freely give to every one that comes To honour them: And princes not doing so are like to gnats, Which make a sound, but kill'd are wonder'd at. Therefore to make his entrance more sweet, Here, say we drink this standing-bowl of wine to him. THAISA Alas, my father, it befits not me Unto a stranger knight to be so bold: He may my proffer take for an offence, Since men take women's gifts for impudence. SIMONIDES How! Do as I bid you, or you'll move me else. THAISA [Aside] Now, by the gods, he could not please me better. SIMONIDES And furthermore tell him, we desire to know of him, Of whence he is, his name and parentage. THAISA The king my father, sir, has drunk to you. PERICLES I thank him. THAISA Wishing it so much blood unto your life. PERICLES I thank both him and you, and pledge him freely. THAISA And further he desires to know of you, Of whence you are, your name and parentage. PERICLES A gentleman of Tyre; my name, Pericles; My education been in arts and arms; Who, looking for adventures in the world, Was by the rough seas reft of ships and men, And after shipwreck driven upon this shore. THAISA He thanks your grace; names himself Pericles, A gentleman of Tyre, Who only by misfortune of the seas Bereft of ships and men, cast on this shore. SIMONIDES Now, by the gods, I pity his misfortune, And will awake him from his melancholy. Come, gentlemen, we sit too long on trifles, And waste the time, which looks for other revels. Even in your armours, as you are address'd, Will very well become a soldier's dance. I will not have excuse, with saying this Loud music is too harsh for ladies' heads, Since they love men in arms as well as beds. [The Knights dance] So, this was well ask'd,'twas so well perform'd. Come, sir; Here is a lady that wants breathing too: And I have heard, you knights of Tyre Are excellent in making ladies trip; And that their measures are as excellent. PERICLES In those that practise them they are, my lord. SIMONIDES O, that's as much as you would be denied Of your fair courtesy. [The Knights and Ladies dance] Unclasp, unclasp: Thanks, gentlemen, to all; all have done well. [To PERICLES] But you the best. Pages and lights, to conduct These knights unto their several lodgings! [To PERICLES] Yours, sir, We have given order to be next our own. PERICLES I am at your grace's pleasure. SIMONIDES Princes, it is too late to talk of love; And that's the mark I know you level at: Therefore each one betake him to his rest; To-morrow all for speeding do their best. [Exeunt] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT II SCENE IV Tyre. A room in the Governor's house. [Enter HELICANUS and ESCANES] HELICANUS No, Escanes, know this of me, Antiochus from incest lived not free: For which, the most high gods not minding longer To withhold the vengeance that they had in store, Due to this heinous capital offence, Even in the height and pride of all his glory, When he was seated in a chariot Of an inestimable value, and his daughter with him, A fire from heaven came and shrivell'd up Their bodies, even to loathing; for they so stunk, That all those eyes adored them ere their fall Scorn now their hand should give them burial. ESCANES 'Twas very strange. HELICANUS And yet but justice; for though This king were great, his greatness was no guard To bar heaven's shaft, but sin had his reward. ESCANES 'Tis very true. [Enter two or three Lords] First Lord See, not a man in private conference Or council has respect with him but he. Second Lord It shall no longer grieve without reproof. Third Lord And cursed be he that will not second it. First Lord Follow me, then. Lord Helicane, a word. HELICANUS With me? and welcome: happy day, my lords. First Lord Know that our griefs are risen to the top, And now at length they overflow their banks. HELICANUS Your griefs! for what? wrong not your prince you love. First Lord Wrong not yourself, then, noble Helicane; But if the prince do live, let us salute him, Or know what ground's made happy by his breath. If in the world he live, we'll seek him out; If in his grave he rest, we'll find him there; And be resolved he lives to govern us, Or dead, give's cause to mourn his funeral, And leave us to our free election. Second Lord Whose death indeed's the strongest in our censure: And knowing this kingdom is without a head,-- Like goodly buildings left without a roof Soon fall to ruin,--your noble self, That best know how to rule and how to reign, We thus submit unto,--our sovereign. All Live, noble Helicane! HELICANUS For honour's cause, forbear your suffrages: If that you love Prince Pericles, forbear. Take I your wish, I leap into the seas, Where's hourly trouble for a minute's ease. A twelvemonth longer, let me entreat you to Forbear the absence of your king: If in which time expired, he not return, I shall with aged patience bear your yoke. But if I cannot win you to this love, Go search like nobles, like noble subjects, And in your search spend your adventurous worth; Whom if you find, and win unto return, You shall like diamonds sit about his crown. First Lord To wisdom he's a fool that will not yield; And since Lord Helicane enjoineth us, We with our travels will endeavour us. HELICANUS Then you love us, we you, and we'll clasp hands: When peers thus knit, a kingdom ever stands. [Exeunt] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT II SCENE V Pentapolis. A room in the palace. [Enter SIMONIDES, reading a letter, at one door: the Knights meet him] First Knight Good morrow to the good Simonides. SIMONIDES Knights, from my daughter this I let you know, That for this twelvemonth she'll not undertake A married life. Her reason to herself is only known, Which yet from her by no means can I get. Second Knight May we not get access to her, my lord? SIMONIDES 'Faith, by no means; she has so strictly tied Her to her chamber, that 'tis impossible. One twelve moons more she'll wear Diana's livery; This by the eye of Cynthia hath she vow'd And on her virgin honour will not break it. Third Knight Loath to bid farewell, we take our leaves. [Exeunt Knights] SIMONIDES So, They are well dispatch'd; now to my daughter's letter: She tells me here, she'd wed the stranger knight, Or never more to view nor day nor light. 'Tis well, mistress; your choice agrees with mine; I like that well: nay, how absolute she's in't, Not minding whether I dislike or no! Well, I do commend her choice; And will no longer have it be delay'd. Soft! here he comes: I must dissemble it. [Enter PERICLES] PERICLES All fortune to the good Simonides! SIMONIDES To you as much, sir! I am beholding to you For your sweet music this last night: I do Protest my ears were never better fed With such delightful pleasing harmony. PERICLES It is your grace's pleasure to commend; Not my desert. SIMONIDES Sir, you are music's master. PERICLES The worst of all her scholars, my good lord. SIMONIDES Let me ask you one thing: What do you think of my daughter, sir? PERICLES A most virtuous princess. SIMONIDES And she is fair too, is she not? PERICLES As a fair day in summer, wondrous fair. SIMONIDES Sir, my daughter thinks very well of you; Ay, so well, that you must be her master, And she will be your scholar: therefore look to it. PERICLES I am unworthy for her schoolmaster. SIMONIDES She thinks not so; peruse this writing else. PERICLES [Aside] What's here? A letter, that she loves the knight of Tyre! 'Tis the king's subtlety to have my life. O, seek not to entrap me, gracious lord, A stranger and distressed gentleman, That never aim'd so high to love your daughter, But bent all offices to honour her. SIMONIDES Thou hast bewitch'd my daughter, and thou art A villain. PERICLES By the gods, I have not: Never did thought of mine levy offence; Nor never did my actions yet commence A deed might gain her love or your displeasure. SIMONIDES Traitor, thou liest. PERICLES Traitor! SIMONIDES Ay, traitor. PERICLES Even in his throat--unless it be the king-- That calls me traitor, I return the lie. SIMONIDES [Aside] Now, by the gods, I do applaud his courage. PERICLES My actions are as noble as my thoughts, That never relish'd of a base descent. I came unto your court for honour's cause, And not to be a rebel to her state; And he that otherwise accounts of me, This sword shall prove he's honour's enemy. SIMONIDES No? Here comes my daughter, she can witness it. [Enter THAISA] PERICLES Then, as you are as virtuous as fair, Resolve your angry father, if my tongue Did ere solicit, or my hand subscribe To any syllable that made love to you. THAISA Why, sir, say if you had, Who takes offence at that would make me glad? SIMONIDES Yea, mistress, are you so peremptory? [Aside] I am glad on't with all my heart.-- I'll tame you; I'll bring you in subjection. Will you, not having my consent, Bestow your love and your affections Upon a stranger? [Aside] who, for aught I know, May be, nor can I think the contrary, As great in blood as I myself.-- Therefore hear you, mistress; either frame Your will to mine,--and you, sir, hear you, Either be ruled by me, or I will make you-- Man and wife: Nay, come, your hands and lips must seal it too: And being join'd, I'll thus your hopes destroy; And for a further grief,--God give you joy!-- What, are you both pleased? THAISA Yes, if you love me, sir. PERICLES Even as my life, or blood that fosters it. SIMONIDES What, are you both agreed? BOTH Yes, if it please your majesty. SIMONIDES It pleaseth me so well, that I will see you wed; And then with what haste you can get you to bed. [Exeunt] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT III [Enter GOWER] GOWER Now sleep y-slaked hath the rout; No din but snores the house about, Made louder by the o'er-fed breast Of this most pompous marriage-feast. The cat, with eyne of burning coal, Now crouches fore the mouse's hole; And crickets sing at the oven's mouth, E'er the blither for their drouth. Hymen hath brought the bride to bed. Where, by the loss of maidenhead, A babe is moulded. Be attent, And time that is so briefly spent With your fine fancies quaintly eche: What's dumb in show I'll plain with speech. DUMB SHOW. [Enter, PERICLES and SIMONIDES at one door, with Attendants; a Messenger meets them, kneels, and gives PERICLES a letter: PERICLES shows it SIMONIDES; the Lords kneel to him. Then enter THAISA with child, with LYCHORIDA a nurse. The KING shows her the letter; she rejoices: she and PERICLES takes leave of her father, and depart with LYCHORIDA and their Attendants. Then exeunt SIMONIDES and the rest] By many a dern and painful perch Of Pericles the careful search, By the four opposing coigns Which the world together joins, Is made with all due diligence That horse and sail and high expense Can stead the quest. At last from Tyre, Fame answering the most strange inquire, To the court of King Simonides Are letters brought, the tenor these: Antiochus and his daughter dead; The men of Tyrus on the head Of Helicanus would set on The crown of Tyre, but he will none: The mutiny he there hastes t' oppress; Says to 'em, if King Pericles Come not home in twice six moons, He, obedient to their dooms, Will take the crown. The sum of this, Brought hither to Pentapolis, Y-ravished the regions round, And every one with claps can sound, 'Our heir-apparent is a king! Who dream'd, who thought of such a thing?' Brief, he must hence depart to Tyre: His queen with child makes her desire-- Which who shall cross?--along to go: Omit we all their dole and woe: Lychorida, her nurse, she takes, And so to sea. Their vessel shakes On Neptune's billow; half the flood Hath their keel cut: but fortune's mood Varies again; the grisly north Disgorges such a tempest forth, That, as a duck for life that dives, So up and down the poor ship drives: The lady shrieks, and well-a-near Does fall in travail with her fear: And what ensues in this fell storm Shall for itself itself perform. I nill relate, action may Conveniently the rest convey; Which might not what by me is told. In your imagination hold This stage the ship, upon whose deck The sea-tost Pericles appears to speak. [Exit] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT III SCENE I: [Enter PERICLES, on shipboard] PERICLES Thou god of this great vast, rebuke these surges, Which wash both heaven and hell; and thou, that hast Upon the winds command, bind them in brass, Having call'd them from the deep! O, still Thy deafening, dreadful thunders; gently quench Thy nimble, sulphurous flashes! O, how, Lychorida, How does my queen? Thou stormest venomously; Wilt thou spit all thyself? The seaman's whistle Is as a whisper in the ears of death, Unheard. Lychorida!--Lucina, O Divinest patroness, and midwife gentle To those that cry by night, convey thy deity Aboard our dancing boat; make swift the pangs Of my queen's travails! [Enter LYCHORIDA, with an Infant] Now, Lychorida! LYCHORIDA Here is a thing too young for such a place, Who, if it had conceit, would die, as I Am like to do: take in your arms this piece Of your dead queen. PERICLES How, how, Lychorida! LYCHORIDA Patience, good sir; do not assist the storm. Here's all that is left living of your queen, A little daughter: for the sake of it, Be manly, and take comfort. PERICLES O you gods! Why do you make us love your goodly gifts, And snatch them straight away? We here below Recall not what we give, and therein may Use honour with you. LYCHORIDA Patience, good sir, Even for this charge. PERICLES Now, mild may be thy life! For a more blustrous birth had never babe: Quiet and gentle thy conditions! for Thou art the rudeliest welcome to this world That ever was prince's child. Happy what follows! Thou hast as chiding a nativity As fire, air, water, earth, and heaven can make, To herald thee from the womb: even at the first Thy loss is more than can thy portage quit, With all thou canst find here. Now, the good gods Throw their best eyes upon't! [Enter two Sailors] First Sailor What courage, sir? God save you! PERICLES Courage enough: I do not fear the flaw; It hath done to me the worst. Yet, for the love Of this poor infant, this fresh-new sea-farer, I would it would be quiet. First Sailor Slack the bolins there! Thou wilt not, wilt thou? Blow, and split thyself. Second Sailor But sea-room, an the brine and cloudy billow kiss the moon, I care not. First Sailor Sir, your queen must overboard: the sea works high, the wind is loud, and will not lie till the ship be cleared of the dead. PERICLES That's your superstition. First Sailor Pardon us, sir; with us at sea it hath been still observed: and we are strong in custom. Therefore briefly yield her; for she must overboard straight. PERICLES As you think meet. Most wretched queen! LYCHORIDA Here she lies, sir. PERICLES A terrible childbed hast thou had, my dear; No light, no fire: the unfriendly elements Forgot thee utterly: nor have I time To give thee hallow'd to thy grave, but straight Must cast thee, scarcely coffin'd, in the ooze; Where, for a monument upon thy bones, And e'er-remaining lamps, the belching whale And humming water must o'erwhelm thy corpse, Lying with simple shells. O Lychorida, Bid Nestor bring me spices, ink and paper, My casket and my jewels; and bid Nicander Bring me the satin coffer: lay the babe Upon the pillow: hie thee, whiles I say A priestly farewell to her: suddenly, woman. [Exit LYCHORIDA] Second Sailor Sir, we have a chest beneath the hatches, caulked and bitumed ready. PERICLES I thank thee. Mariner, say what coast is this? Second Sailor We are near Tarsus. PERICLES Thither, gentle mariner. Alter thy course for Tyre. When canst thou reach it? Second Sailor By break of day, if the wind cease. PERICLES O, make for Tarsus! There will I visit Cleon, for the babe Cannot hold out to Tyrus: there I'll leave it At careful nursing. Go thy ways, good mariner: I'll bring the body presently. [Exeunt] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT III SCENE II Ephesus. A room in CERIMON's house. [Enter CERIMON, with a Servant, and some Persons who have been shipwrecked] CERIMON Philemon, ho! [Enter PHILEMON] PHILEMON Doth my lord call? CERIMON Get fire and meat for these poor men: 'T has been a turbulent and stormy night. Servant I have been in many; but such a night as this, Till now, I ne'er endured. CERIMON Your master will be dead ere you return; There's nothing can be minister'd to nature That can recover him. [To PHILEMON] Give this to the 'pothecary, And tell me how it works. [Exeunt all but CERIMON] [Enter two Gentlemen] First Gentleman Good morrow. Second Gentleman Good morrow to your lordship. CERIMON Gentlemen, Why do you stir so early? First Gentleman Sir, Our lodgings, standing bleak upon the sea, Shook as the earth did quake; The very principals did seem to rend, And all-to topple: pure surprise and fear Made me to quit the house. Second Gentleman That is the cause we trouble you so early; 'Tis not our husbandry. CERIMON O, you say well. First Gentleman But I much marvel that your lordship, having Rich tire about you, should at these early hours Shake off the golden slumber of repose. 'Tis most strange, Nature should be so conversant with pain, Being thereto not compell'd. CERIMON I hold it ever, Virtue and cunning were endowments greater Than nobleness and riches: careless heirs May the two latter darken and expend; But immortality attends the former. Making a man a god. 'Tis known, I ever Have studied physic, through which secret art, By turning o'er authorities, I have, Together with my practise, made familiar To me and to my aid the blest infusions That dwell in vegetives, in metals, stones; And I can speak of the disturbances That nature works, and of her cures; which doth give me A more content in course of true delight Than to be thirsty after tottering honour, Or tie my treasure up in silken bags, To please the fool and death. Second Gentleman Your honour has through Ephesus pour'd forth Your charity, and hundreds call themselves Your creatures, who by you have been restored: And not your knowledge, your personal pain, but even Your purse, still open, hath built Lord Cerimon Such strong renown as time shall ne'er decay. [Enter two or three Servants with a chest] First Servant So; lift there. CERIMON What is that? First Servant Sir, even now Did the sea toss upon our shore this chest: 'Tis of some wreck. CERIMON Set 't down, let's look upon't. Second Gentleman 'Tis like a coffin, sir. CERIMON Whate'er it be, 'Tis wondrous heavy. Wrench it open straight: If the sea's stomach be o'ercharged with gold, 'Tis a good constraint of fortune it belches upon us. Second Gentleman 'Tis so, my lord. CERIMON How close 'tis caulk'd and bitumed! Did the sea cast it up? First Servant I never saw so huge a billow, sir, As toss'd it upon shore. CERIMON Wrench it open; Soft! it smells most sweetly in my sense. Second Gentleman A delicate odour. CERIMON As ever hit my nostril. So, up with it. O you most potent gods! what's here? a corse! First Gentleman Most strange! CERIMON Shrouded in cloth of state; balm'd and entreasured With full bags of spices! A passport too! Apollo, perfect me in the characters! [Reads from a scroll] 'Here I give to understand, If e'er this coffin drive a-land, I, King Pericles, have lost This queen, worth all our mundane cost. Who finds her, give her burying; She was the daughter of a king: Besides this treasure for a fee, The gods requite his charity!' If thou livest, Pericles, thou hast a heart That even cracks for woe! This chanced tonight. Second Gentleman Most likely, sir. CERIMON Nay, certainly to-night; For look how fresh she looks! They were too rough That threw her in the sea. Make a fire within: Fetch hither all my boxes in my closet. [Exit a Servant] Death may usurp on nature many hours, And yet the fire of life kindle again The o'erpress'd spirits. I heard of an Egyptian That had nine hours lien dead, Who was by good appliance recovered. [Re-enter a Servant, with boxes, napkins, and fire] Well said, well said; the fire and cloths. The rough and woeful music that we have, Cause it to sound, beseech you. The viol once more: how thou stirr'st, thou block! The music there!--I pray you, give her air. Gentlemen. This queen will live: nature awakes; a warmth Breathes out of her: she hath not been entranced Above five hours: see how she gins to blow Into life's flower again! First Gentleman The heavens, Through you, increase our wonder and set up Your fame forever. CERIMON She is alive; behold, Her eyelids, cases to those heavenly jewels Which Pericles hath lost, Begin to part their fringes of bright gold; The diamonds of a most praised water Do appear, to make the world twice rich. Live, And make us weep to hear your fate, fair creature, Rare as you seem to be. [She moves] THAISA O dear Diana, Where am I? Where's my lord? What world is this? Second Gentleman Is not this strange? First Gentleman Most rare. CERIMON Hush, my gentle neighbours! Lend me your hands; to the next chamber bear her. Get linen: now this matter must be look'd to, For her relapse is mortal. Come, come; And AEsculapius guide us! [Exeunt, carrying her away] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT III SCENE III Tarsus. A room in CLEON's house. [Enter PERICLES, CLEON, DIONYZA, and LYCHORIDA with MARINA in her arms] PERICLES Most honour'd Cleon, I must needs be gone; My twelve months are expired, and Tyrus stands In a litigious peace. You, and your lady, Take from my heart all thankfulness! The gods Make up the rest upon you! CLEON Your shafts of fortune, though they hurt you mortally, Yet glance full wanderingly on us. DIONYZA O your sweet queen! That the strict fates had pleased you had brought her hither, To have bless'd mine eyes with her! PERICLES We cannot but obey The powers above us. Could I rage and roar As doth the sea she lies in, yet the end Must be as 'tis. My gentle babe Marina, whom, For she was born at sea, I have named so, here I charge your charity withal, leaving her The infant of your care; beseeching you To give her princely training, that she may be Manner'd as she is born. CLEON Fear not, my lord, but think Your grace, that fed my country with your corn, For which the people's prayers still fall upon you, Must in your child be thought on. If neglection Should therein make me vile, the common body, By you relieved, would force me to my duty: But if to that my nature need a spur, The gods revenge it upon me and mine, To the end of generation! PERICLES I believe you; Your honour and your goodness teach me to't, Without your vows. Till she be married, madam, By bright Diana, whom we honour, all Unscissor'd shall this hair of mine remain, Though I show ill in't. So I take my leave. Good madam, make me blessed in your care In bringing up my child. DIONYZA I have one myself, Who shall not be more dear to my respect Than yours, my lord. PERICLES Madam, my thanks and prayers. CLEON We'll bring your grace e'en to the edge o' the shore, Then give you up to the mask'd Neptune and The gentlest winds of heaven. PERICLES I will embrace Your offer. Come, dearest madam. O, no tears, Lychorida, no tears: Look to your little mistress, on whose grace You may depend hereafter. Come, my lord. [Exeunt] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT III SCENE IV Ephesus. A room in CERIMON's house. [Enter CERIMON and THAISA] CERIMON Madam, this letter, and some certain jewels, Lay with you in your coffer: which are now At your command. Know you the character? THAISA It is my lord's. That I was shipp'd at sea, I well remember, Even on my eaning time; but whether there Deliver'd, by the holy gods, I cannot rightly say. But since King Pericles, My wedded lord, I ne'er shall see again, A vestal livery will I take me to, And never more have joy. CERIMON Madam, if this you purpose as ye speak, Diana's temple is not distant far, Where you may abide till your date expire. Moreover, if you please, a niece of mine Shall there attend you. THAISA My recompense is thanks, that's all; Yet my good will is great, though the gift small. [Exeunt] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT IV [Enter GOWER] GOWER Imagine Pericles arrived at Tyre, Welcomed and settled to his own desire. His woeful queen we leave at Ephesus, Unto Diana there a votaress. Now to Marina bend your mind, Whom our fast-growing scene must find At Tarsus, and by Cleon train'd In music, letters; who hath gain'd Of education all the grace, Which makes her both the heart and place Of general wonder. But, alack, That monster envy, oft the wrack Of earned praise, Marina's life Seeks to take off by treason's knife. And in this kind hath our Cleon One daughter, and a wench full grown, Even ripe for marriage-rite; this maid Hight Philoten: and it is said For certain in our story, she Would ever with Marina be: Be't when she weaved the sleided silk With fingers long, small, white as milk; Or when she would with sharp needle wound The cambric, which she made more sound By hurting it; or when to the lute She sung, and made the night-bird mute, That still records with moan; or when She would with rich and constant pen Vail to her mistress Dian; still This Philoten contends in skill With absolute Marina: so With the dove of Paphos might the crow Vie feathers white. Marina gets All praises, which are paid as debts, And not as given. This so darks In Philoten all graceful marks, That Cleon's wife, with envy rare, A present murderer does prepare For good Marina, that her daughter Might stand peerless by this slaughter. The sooner her vile thoughts to stead, Lychorida, our nurse, is dead: And cursed Dionyza hath The pregnant instrument of wrath Prest for this blow. The unborn event I do commend to your content: Only I carry winged time Post on the lame feet of my rhyme; Which never could I so convey, Unless your thoughts went on my way. Dionyza does appear, With Leonine, a murderer. [Exit] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT IV SCENE I Tarsus. An open place near the sea-shore. [Enter DIONYZA and LEONINE] DIONYZA Thy oath remember; thou hast sworn to do't: 'Tis but a blow, which never shall be known. Thou canst not do a thing in the world so soon, To yield thee so much profit. Let not conscience, Which is but cold, inflaming love i' thy bosom, Inflame too nicely; nor let pity, which Even women have cast off, melt thee, but be A soldier to thy purpose. LEONINE I will do't; but yet she is a goodly creature. DIONYZA The fitter, then, the gods should have her. Here she comes weeping for her only mistress' death. Thou art resolved? LEONINE I am resolved. [Enter MARINA, with a basket of flowers] MARINA No, I will rob Tellus of her weed, To strew thy green with flowers: the yellows, blues, The purple violets, and marigolds, Shall as a carpet hang upon thy grave, While summer-days do last. Ay me! poor maid, Born in a tempest, when my mother died, This world to me is like a lasting storm, Whirring me from my friends. DIONYZA How now, Marina! why do you keep alone? How chance my daughter is not with you? Do not Consume your blood with sorrowing: you have A nurse of me. Lord, how your favour's changed With this unprofitable woe! Come, give me your flowers, ere the sea mar it. Walk with Leonine; the air is quick there, And it pierces and sharpens the stomach. Come, Leonine, take her by the arm, walk with her. MARINA No, I pray you; I'll not bereave you of your servant. DIONYZA Come, come; I love the king your father, and yourself, With more than foreign heart. We every day Expect him here: when he shall come and find Our paragon to all reports thus blasted, He will repent the breadth of his great voyage; Blame both my lord and me, that we have taken No care to your best courses. Go, I pray you, Walk, and be cheerful once again; reserve That excellent complexion, which did steal The eyes of young and old. Care not for me I can go home alone. MARINA Well, I will go; But yet I have no desire to it. DIONYZA Come, come, I know 'tis good for you. Walk half an hour, Leonine, at the least: Remember what I have said. LEONINE I warrant you, madam. DIONYZA I'll leave you, my sweet lady, for a while: Pray, walk softly, do not heat your blood: What! I must have a care of you. MARINA My thanks, sweet madam. [Exit DIONYZA] Is this wind westerly that blows? LEONINE South-west. MARINA When I was born, the wind was north. LEONINE Was't so? MARINA My father, as nurse said, did never fear, But cried 'Good seaman!' to the sailors, galling His kingly hands, haling ropes; And, clasping to the mast, endured a sea That almost burst the deck. LEONINE When was this? MARINA When I was born: Never was waves nor wind more violent; And from the ladder-tackle washes off A canvas-climber. 'Ha!' says one, 'wilt out?' And with a dropping industry they skip From stem to stern: the boatswain whistles, and The master calls, and trebles their confusion. LEONINE Come, say your prayers. MARINA What mean you? LEONINE If you require a little space for prayer, I grant it: pray; but be not tedious, For the gods are quick of ear, and I am sworn To do my work with haste. MARINA Why will you kill me? LEONINE To satisfy my lady. MARINA Why would she have me kill'd? Now, as I can remember, by my troth, I never did her hurt in all my life: I never spake bad word, nor did ill turn To any living creature: believe me, la, I never kill'd a mouse, nor hurt a fly: I trod upon a worm against my will, But I wept for it. How have I offended, Wherein my death might yield her any profit, Or my life imply her any danger? LEONINE My commission Is not to reason of the deed, but do it. MARINA You will not do't for all the world, I hope. You are well favour'd, and your looks foreshow You have a gentle heart. I saw you lately, When you caught hurt in parting two that fought: Good sooth, it show'd well in you: do so now: Your lady seeks my life; come you between, And save poor me, the weaker. LEONINE I am sworn, And will dispatch. [He seizes her] [Enter Pirates] First Pirate Hold, villain! [LEONINE runs away] Second Pirate A prize! a prize! Third Pirate Half-part, mates, half-part. Come, let's have her aboard suddenly. [Exeunt Pirates with MARINA] [Re-enter LEONINE] LEONINE These roguing thieves serve the great pirate Valdes; And they have seized Marina. Let her go: There's no hope she will return. I'll swear she's dead, And thrown into the sea. But I'll see further: Perhaps they will but please themselves upon her, Not carry her aboard. If she remain, Whom they have ravish'd must by me be slain. [Exit] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT IV SCENE II Mytilene. A room in a brothel. [Enter Pandar, Bawd, and BOULT] Pandar Boult! BOULT Sir? Pandar Search the market narrowly; Mytilene is full of gallants. We lost too much money this mart by being too wenchless. Bawd We were never so much out of creatures. We have but poor three, and they can do no more than they can do; and they with continual action are even as good as rotten. Pandar Therefore let's have fresh ones, whate'er we pay for them. If there be not a conscience to be used in every trade, we shall never prosper. Bawd Thou sayest true: 'tis not our bringing up of poor bastards,--as, I think, I have brought up some eleven-- BOULT Ay, to eleven; and brought them down again. But shall I search the market? Bawd What else, man? The stuff we have, a strong wind will blow it to pieces, they are so pitifully sodden. Pandar Thou sayest true; they're too unwholesome, o' conscience. The poor Transylvanian is dead, that lay with the little baggage. BOULT Ay, she quickly pooped him; she made him roast-meat for worms. But I'll go search the market. [Exit] Pandar Three or four thousand chequins were as pretty a proportion to live quietly, and so give over. Bawd Why to give over, I pray you? is it a shame to get when we are old? Pandar O, our credit comes not in like the commodity, nor the commodity wages not with the danger: therefore, if in our youths we could pick up some pretty estate, 'twere not amiss to keep our door hatched. Besides, the sore terms we stand upon with the gods will be strong with us for giving over. Bawd Come, other sorts offend as well as we. Pandar As well as we! ay, and better too; we offend worse. Neither is our profession any trade; it's no calling. But here comes Boult. [Re-enter BOULT, with the Pirates and MARINA] BOULT [To MARINA] Come your ways. My masters, you say she's a virgin? First Pirate O, sir, we doubt it not. BOULT Master, I have gone through for this piece, you see: if you like her, so; if not, I have lost my earnest. Bawd Boult, has she any qualities? BOULT She has a good face, speaks well, and has excellent good clothes: there's no further necessity of qualities can make her be refused. Bawd What's her price, Boult? BOULT I cannot be bated one doit of a thousand pieces. Pandar Well, follow me, my masters, you shall have your money presently. Wife, take her in; instruct her what she has to do, that she may not be raw in her entertainment. [Exeunt Pandar and Pirates] Bawd Boult, take you the marks of her, the colour of her hair, complexion, height, age, with warrant of her virginity; and cry 'He that will give most shall have her first.' Such a maidenhead were no cheap thing, if men were as they have been. Get this done as I command you. BOULT Performance shall follow. [Exit] MARINA Alack that Leonine was so slack, so slow! He should have struck, not spoke; or that these pirates, Not enough barbarous, had not o'erboard thrown me For to seek my mother! Bawd Why lament you, pretty one? MARINA That I am pretty. Bawd Come, the gods have done their part in you. MARINA I accuse them not. Bawd You are light into my hands, where you are like to live. MARINA The more my fault To scape his hands where I was like to die. Bawd Ay, and you shall live in pleasure. MARINA No. Bawd Yes, indeed shall you, and taste gentlemen of all fashions: you shall fare well; you shall have the difference of all complexions. What! do you stop your ears? MARINA Are you a woman? Bawd What would you have me be, an I be not a woman? MARINA An honest woman, or not a woman. Bawd Marry, whip thee, gosling: I think I shall have something to do with you. Come, you're a young foolish sapling, and must be bowed as I would have you. MARINA The gods defend me! Bawd If it please the gods to defend you by men, then men must comfort you, men must feed you, men must stir you up. Boult's returned. [Re-enter BOULT] Now, sir, hast thou cried her through the market? BOULT I have cried her almost to the number of her hairs; I have drawn her picture with my voice. Bawd And I prithee tell me, how dost thou find the inclination of the people, especially of the younger sort? BOULT 'Faith, they listened to me as they would have hearkened to their father's testament. There was a Spaniard's mouth so watered, that he went to bed to her very description. Bawd We shall have him here to-morrow with his best ruff on. BOULT To-night, to-night. But, mistress, do you know the French knight that cowers i' the hams? Bawd Who, Monsieur Veroles? BOULT Ay, he: he offered to cut a caper at the proclamation; but he made a groan at it, and swore he would see her to-morrow. Bawd Well, well; as for him, he brought his disease hither: here he does but repair it. I know he will come in our shadow, to scatter his crowns in the sun. BOULT Well, if we had of every nation a traveller, we should lodge them with this sign. Bawd [To MARINA] Pray you, come hither awhile. You have fortunes coming upon you. Mark me: you must seem to do that fearfully which you commit willingly, despise profit where you have most gain. To weep that you live as ye do makes pity in your lovers: seldom but that pity begets you a good opinion, and that opinion a mere profit. MARINA I understand you not. BOULT O, take her home, mistress, take her home: these blushes of hers must be quenched with some present practise. Bawd Thou sayest true, i' faith, so they must; for your bride goes to that with shame which is her way to go with warrant. BOULT 'Faith, some do, and some do not. But, mistress, if I have bargained for the joint,-- Bawd Thou mayst cut a morsel off the spit. BOULT I may so. Bawd Who should deny it? Come, young one, I like the manner of your garments well. BOULT Ay, by my faith, they shall not be changed yet. Bawd Boult, spend thou that in the town: report what a sojourner we have; you'll lose nothing by custom. When nature flamed this piece, she meant thee a good turn; therefore say what a paragon she is, and thou hast the harvest out of thine own report. BOULT I warrant you, mistress, thunder shall not so awake the beds of eels as my giving out her beauty stir up the lewdly-inclined. I'll bring home some to-night. Bawd Come your ways; follow me. MARINA If fires be hot, knives sharp, or waters deep, Untied I still my virgin knot will keep. Diana, aid my purpose! Bawd What have we to do with Diana? Pray you, will you go with us? [Exeunt] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT IV SCENE III Tarsus. A room in CLEON's house. [Enter CLEON and DIONYZA] DIONYZA Why, are you foolish? Can it be undone? CLEON O Dionyza, such a piece of slaughter The sun and moon ne'er look'd upon! DIONYZA I think You'll turn a child again. CLEON Were I chief lord of all this spacious world, I'ld give it to undo the deed. O lady, Much less in blood than virtue, yet a princess To equal any single crown o' the earth I' the justice of compare! O villain Leonine! Whom thou hast poison'd too: If thou hadst drunk to him, 't had been a kindness Becoming well thy fact: what canst thou say When noble Pericles shall demand his child? DIONYZA That she is dead. Nurses are not the fates, To foster it, nor ever to preserve. She died at night; I'll say so. Who can cross it? Unless you play the pious innocent, And for an honest attribute cry out 'She died by foul play.' CLEON O, go to. Well, well, Of all the faults beneath the heavens, the gods Do like this worst. DIONYZA Be one of those that think The petty wrens of Tarsus will fly hence, And open this to Pericles. I do shame To think of what a noble strain you are, And of how coward a spirit. CLEON To such proceeding Who ever but his approbation added, Though not his prime consent, he did not flow From honourable sources. DIONYZA Be it so, then: Yet none does know, but you, how she came dead, Nor none can know, Leonine being gone. She did disdain my child, and stood between Her and her fortunes: none would look on her, But cast their gazes on Marina's face; Whilst ours was blurted at and held a malkin Not worth the time of day. It pierced me through; And though you call my course unnatural, You not your child well loving, yet I find It greets me as an enterprise of kindness Perform'd to your sole daughter. CLEON Heavens forgive it! DIONYZA And as for Pericles, What should he say? We wept after her hearse, And yet we mourn: her monument Is almost finish'd, and her epitaphs In glittering golden characters express A general praise to her, and care in us At whose expense 'tis done. CLEON Thou art like the harpy, Which, to betray, dost, with thine angel's face, Seize with thine eagle's talons. DIONYZA You are like one that superstitiously Doth swear to the gods that winter kills the flies: But yet I know you'll do as I advise. [Exeunt] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT IV SCENE IV: [Enter GOWER, before the monument of MARINA at Tarsus] GOWER Thus time we waste, and longest leagues make short; Sail seas in cockles, have an wish but for't; Making, to take your imagination, From bourn to bourn, region to region. By you being pardon'd, we commit no crime To use one language in each several clime Where our scenes seem to live. I do beseech you To learn of me, who stand i' the gaps to teach you, The stages of our story. Pericles Is now again thwarting the wayward seas, Attended on by many a lord and knight. To see his daughter, all his life's delight. Old Escanes, whom Helicanus late Advanced in time to great and high estate, Is left to govern. Bear you it in mind, Old Helicanus goes along behind. Well-sailing ships and bounteous winds have brought This king to Tarsus,--think his pilot thought; So with his steerage shall your thoughts grow on,-- To fetch his daughter home, who first is gone. Like motes and shadows see them move awhile; Your ears unto your eyes I'll reconcile. DUMB SHOW. [Enter PERICLES, at one door, with all his train; CLEON and DIONYZA, at the other. CLEON shows PERICLES the tomb; whereat PERICLES makes lamentation, puts on sackcloth, and in a mighty passion departs. Then exeunt CLEON and DIONYZA] See how belief may suffer by foul show! This borrow'd passion stands for true old woe; And Pericles, in sorrow all devour'd, With sighs shot through, and biggest tears o'ershower'd, Leaves Tarsus and again embarks. He swears Never to wash his face, nor cut his hairs: He puts on sackcloth, and to sea. He bears A tempest, which his mortal vessel tears, And yet he rides it out. Now please you wit. The epitaph is for Marina writ By wicked Dionyza. [Reads the inscription on MARINA's monument] 'The fairest, sweet'st, and best lies here, Who wither'd in her spring of year. She was of Tyrus the king's daughter, On whom foul death hath made this slaughter; Marina was she call'd; and at her birth, Thetis, being proud, swallow'd some part o' the earth: Therefore the earth, fearing to be o'erflow'd, Hath Thetis' birth-child on the heavens bestow'd: Wherefore she does, and swears she'll never stint, Make raging battery upon shores of flint.' No visor does become black villany So well as soft and tender flattery. Let Pericles believe his daughter's dead, And bear his courses to be ordered By Lady Fortune; while our scene must play His daughter's woe and heavy well-a-day In her unholy service. Patience, then, And think you now are all in Mytilene. [Exit] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT IV SCENE V Mytilene. A street before the brothel. [Enter, from the brothel, two Gentlemen] First Gentleman Did you ever hear the like? Second Gentleman No, nor never shall do in such a place as this, she being once gone. First Gentleman But to have divinity preached there! did you ever dream of such a thing? Second Gentleman No, no. Come, I am for no more bawdy-houses: shall's go hear the vestals sing? First Gentleman I'll do any thing now that is virtuous; but I am out of the road of rutting for ever. [Exeunt] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT IV SCENE VI The same. A room in the brothel. [Enter Pandar, Bawd, and BOULT] Pandar Well, I had rather than twice the worth of her she had ne'er come here. Bawd Fie, fie upon her! she's able to freeze the god Priapus, and undo a whole generation. We must either get her ravished, or be rid of her. When she should do for clients her fitment, and do me the kindness of our profession, she has me her quirks, her reasons, her master reasons, her prayers, her knees; that she would make a puritan of the devil, if he should cheapen a kiss of her. BOULT 'Faith, I must ravish her, or she'll disfurnish us of all our cavaliers, and make our swearers priests. Pandar Now, the pox upon her green-sickness for me! Bawd 'Faith, there's no way to be rid on't but by the way to the pox. Here comes the Lord Lysimachus disguised. BOULT We should have both lord and lown, if the peevish baggage would but give way to customers. [Enter LYSIMACHUS] LYSIMACHUS How now! How a dozen of virginities? Bawd Now, the gods to-bless your honour! BOULT I am glad to see your honour in good health. LYSIMACHUS You may so; 'tis the better for you that your resorters stand upon sound legs. How now! wholesome iniquity have you that a man may deal withal, and defy the surgeon? Bawd We have here one, sir, if she would--but there never came her like in Mytilene. LYSIMACHUS If she'ld do the deed of darkness, thou wouldst say. Bawd Your honour knows what 'tis to say well enough. LYSIMACHUS Well, call forth, call forth. BOULT For flesh and blood, sir, white and red, you shall see a rose; and she were a rose indeed, if she had but-- LYSIMACHUS What, prithee? BOULT O, sir, I can be modest. LYSIMACHUS That dignifies the renown of a bawd, no less than it gives a good report to a number to be chaste. [Exit BOULT] Bawd Here comes that which grows to the stalk; never plucked yet, I can assure you. [Re-enter BOULT with MARINA] Is she not a fair creature? LYSIMACHUS 'Faith, she would serve after a long voyage at sea. Well, there's for you: leave us. Bawd I beseech your honour, give me leave: a word, and I'll have done presently. LYSIMACHUS I beseech you, do. Bawd [To MARINA] First, I would have you note, this is an honourable man. MARINA I desire to find him so, that I may worthily note him. Bawd Next, he's the governor of this country, and a man whom I am bound to. MARINA If he govern the country, you are bound to him indeed; but how honourable he is in that, I know not. Bawd Pray you, without any more virginal fencing, will you use him kindly? He will line your apron with gold. MARINA What he will do graciously, I will thankfully receive. LYSIMACHUS Ha' you done? Bawd My lord, she's not paced yet: you must take some pains to work her to your manage. Come, we will leave his honour and her together. Go thy ways. [Exeunt Bawd, Pandar, and BOULT] LYSIMACHUS Now, pretty one, how long have you been at this trade? MARINA What trade, sir? LYSIMACHUS Why, I cannot name't but I shall offend. MARINA I cannot be offended with my trade. Please you to name it. LYSIMACHUS How long have you been of this profession? MARINA E'er since I can remember. LYSIMACHUS Did you go to 't so young? Were you a gamester at five or at seven? MARINA Earlier too, sir, if now I be one. LYSIMACHUS Why, the house you dwell in proclaims you to be a creature of sale. MARINA Do you know this house to be a place of such resort, and will come into 't? I hear say you are of honourable parts, and are the governor of this place. LYSIMACHUS Why, hath your principal made known unto you who I am? MARINA Who is my principal? LYSIMACHUS Why, your herb-woman; she that sets seeds and roots of shame and iniquity. O, you have heard something of my power, and so stand aloof for more serious wooing. But I protest to thee, pretty one, my authority shall not see thee, or else look friendly upon thee. Come, bring me to some private place: come, come. MARINA If you were born to honour, show it now; If put upon you, make the judgment good That thought you worthy of it. LYSIMACHUS How's this? how's this? Some more; be sage. MARINA For me, That am a maid, though most ungentle fortune Have placed me in this sty, where, since I came, Diseases have been sold dearer than physic, O, that the gods Would set me free from this unhallow'd place, Though they did change me to the meanest bird That flies i' the purer air! LYSIMACHUS I did not think Thou couldst have spoke so well; ne'er dream'd thou couldst. Had I brought hither a corrupted mind, Thy speech had alter'd it. Hold, here's gold for thee: Persever in that clear way thou goest, And the gods strengthen thee! MARINA The good gods preserve you! LYSIMACHUS For me, be you thoughten That I came with no ill intent; for to me The very doors and windows savour vilely. Fare thee well. Thou art a piece of virtue, and I doubt not but thy training hath been noble. Hold, here's more gold for thee. A curse upon him, die he like a thief, That robs thee of thy goodness! If thou dost Hear from me, it shall be for thy good. [Re-enter BOULT] BOULT I beseech your honour, one piece for me. LYSIMACHUS Avaunt, thou damned door-keeper! Your house, but for this virgin that doth prop it, Would sink and overwhelm you. Away! [Exit] BOULT How's this? We must take another course with you. If your peevish chastity, which is not worth a breakfast in the cheapest country under the cope, shall undo a whole household, let me be gelded like a spaniel. Come your ways. MARINA Whither would you have me? BOULT I must have your maidenhead taken off, or the common hangman shall execute it. Come your ways. We'll have no more gentlemen driven away. Come your ways, I say. [Re-enter Bawd] Bawd How now! what's the matter? BOULT Worse and worse, mistress; she has here spoken holy words to the Lord Lysimachus. Bawd O abominable! BOULT She makes our profession as it were to stink afore the face of the gods. Bawd Marry, hang her up for ever! BOULT The nobleman would have dealt with her like a nobleman, and she sent him away as cold as a snowball; saying his prayers too. Bawd Boult, take her away; use her at thy pleasure: crack the glass of her virginity, and make the rest malleable. BOULT An if she were a thornier piece of ground than she is, she shall be ploughed. MARINA Hark, hark, you gods! Bawd She conjures: away with her! Would she had never come within my doors! Marry, hang you! She's born to undo us. Will you not go the way of women-kind? Marry, come up, my dish of chastity with rosemary and bays! [Exit] BOULT Come, mistress; come your ways with me. MARINA Whither wilt thou have me? BOULT To take from you the jewel you hold so dear. MARINA Prithee, tell me one thing first. BOULT Come now, your one thing. MARINA What canst thou wish thine enemy to be? BOULT Why, I could wish him to be my master, or rather, my mistress. MARINA Neither of these are so bad as thou art, Since they do better thee in their command. Thou hold'st a place, for which the pained'st fiend Of hell would not in reputation change: Thou art the damned doorkeeper to every Coistrel that comes inquiring for his Tib; To the choleric fisting of every rogue Thy ear is liable; thy food is such As hath been belch'd on by infected lungs. BOULT What would you have me do? go to the wars, would you? where a man may serve seven years for the loss of a leg, and have not money enough in the end to buy him a wooden one? MARINA Do any thing but this thou doest. Empty OLD receptacles, or common shores, of filth; Serve by indenture to the common hangman: Any of these ways are yet better than this; For what thou professest, a baboon, could he speak, Would own a name too dear. O, that the gods Would safely deliver me from this place! Here, here's gold for thee. If that thy master would gain by thee, Proclaim that I can sing, weave, sew, and dance, With other virtues, which I'll keep from boast: And I will undertake all these to teach. I doubt not but this populous city will Yield many scholars. BOULT But can you teach all this you speak of? MARINA Prove that I cannot, take me home again, And prostitute me to the basest groom That doth frequent your house. BOULT Well, I will see what I can do for thee: if I can place thee, I will. MARINA But amongst honest women. BOULT 'Faith, my acquaintance lies little amongst them. But since my master and mistress have bought you, there's no going but by their consent: therefore I will make them acquainted with your purpose, and I doubt not but I shall find them tractable enough. Come, I'll do for thee what I can; come your ways. [Exeunt] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT V [Enter GOWER] GOWER Marina thus the brothel 'scapes, and chances Into an honest house, our story says. She sings like one immortal, and she dances As goddess-like to her admired lays; Deep clerks she dumbs; and with her needle composes Nature's own shape, of bud, bird, branch, or berry, That even her art sisters the natural roses; Her inkle, silk, twin with the rubied cherry: That pupils lacks she none of noble race, Who pour their bounty on her; and her gain She gives the cursed bawd. Here we her place; And to her father turn our thoughts again, Where we left him, on the sea. We there him lost; Whence, driven before the winds, he is arrived Here where his daughter dwells; and on this coast Suppose him now at anchor. The city strived God Neptune's annual feast to keep: from whence Lysimachus our Tyrian ship espies, His banners sable, trimm'd with rich expense; And to him in his barge with fervor hies. In your supposing once more put your sight Of heavy Pericles; think this his bark: Where what is done in action, more, if might, Shall be discover'd; please you, sit and hark. [Exit] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT V SCENE I On board PERICLES' ship, off Mytilene. A close pavilion on deck, with a curtain before it; PERICLES within it, reclined on a couch. A barge lying beside the Tyrian vessel. [Enter two Sailors, one belonging to the Tyrian vessel, the other to the barge; to them HELICANUS] Tyrian Sailor [To the Sailor of Mytilene] Where is lord Helicanus? he can resolve you. O, here he is. Sir, there's a barge put off from Mytilene, And in it is Lysimachus the governor, Who craves to come aboard. What is your will? HELICANUS That he have his. Call up some gentlemen. Tyrian Sailor Ho, gentlemen! my lord calls. [Enter two or three Gentlemen] First Gentleman Doth your lordship call? HELICANUS Gentlemen, there's some of worth would come aboard; I pray ye, greet them fairly. [The Gentlemen and the two Sailors descend, and go on board the barge] [Enter, from thence, LYSIMACHUS and Lords; with the Gentlemen and the two Sailors] Tyrian Sailor Sir, This is the man that can, in aught you would, Resolve you. LYSIMACHUS Hail, reverend sir! the gods preserve you! HELICANUS And you, sir, to outlive the age I am, And die as I would do. LYSIMACHUS You wish me well. Being on shore, honouring of Neptune's triumphs, Seeing this goodly vessel ride before us, I made to it, to know of whence you are. HELICANUS First, what is your place? LYSIMACHUS I am the governor of this place you lie before. HELICANUS Sir, Our vessel is of Tyre, in it the king; A man who for this three months hath not spoken To any one, nor taken sustenance But to prorogue his grief. LYSIMACHUS Upon what ground is his distemperature? HELICANUS 'Twould be too tedious to repeat; But the main grief springs from the loss Of a beloved daughter and a wife. LYSIMACHUS May we not see him? HELICANUS You may; But bootless is your sight: he will not speak To any. LYSIMACHUS Yet let me obtain my wish. HELICANUS Behold him. [PERICLES discovered] This was a goodly person, Till the disaster that, one mortal night, Drove him to this. LYSIMACHUS Sir king, all hail! the gods preserve you! Hail, royal sir! HELICANUS It is in vain; he will not speak to you. First Lord Sir, We have a maid in Mytilene, I durst wager, Would win some words of him. LYSIMACHUS 'Tis well bethought. She questionless with her sweet harmony And other chosen attractions, would allure, And make a battery through his deafen'd parts, Which now are midway stopp'd: She is all happy as the fairest of all, And, with her fellow maids is now upon The leafy shelter that abuts against The island's side. [Whispers a Lord, who goes off in the barge of LYSIMACHUS] HELICANUS Sure, all's effectless; yet nothing we'll omit That bears recovery's name. But, since your kindness We have stretch'd thus far, let us beseech you That for our gold we may provision have, Wherein we are not destitute for want, But weary for the staleness. LYSIMACHUS O, sir, a courtesy Which if we should deny, the most just gods For every graff would send a caterpillar, And so afflict our province. Yet once more Let me entreat to know at large the cause Of your king's sorrow. HELICANUS Sit, sir, I will recount it to you: But, see, I am prevented. [Re-enter, from the barge, Lord, with MARINA, and a young Lady] LYSIMACHUS O, here is The lady that I sent for. Welcome, fair one! Is't not a goodly presence? HELICANUS She's a gallant lady. LYSIMACHUS She's such a one, that, were I well assured Came of a gentle kind and noble stock, I'ld wish no better choice, and think me rarely wed. Fair one, all goodness that consists in bounty Expect even here, where is a kingly patient: If that thy prosperous and artificial feat Can draw him but to answer thee in aught, Thy sacred physic shall receive such pay As thy desires can wish. MARINA Sir, I will use My utmost skill in his recovery, Provided That none but I and my companion maid Be suffer'd to come near him. LYSIMACHUS Come, let us leave her; And the gods make her prosperous! [MARINA sings] LYSIMACHUS Mark'd he your music? MARINA No, nor look'd on us. LYSIMACHUS See, she will speak to him. MARINA Hail, sir! my lord, lend ear. PERICLES Hum, ha! MARINA I am a maid, My lord, that ne'er before invited eyes, But have been gazed on like a comet: she speaks, My lord, that, may be, hath endured a grief Might equal yours, if both were justly weigh'd. Though wayward fortune did malign my state, My derivation was from ancestors Who stood equivalent with mighty kings: But time hath rooted out my parentage, And to the world and awkward casualties Bound me in servitude. [Aside] I will desist; But there is something glows upon my cheek, And whispers in mine ear, 'Go not till he speak.' PERICLES My fortunes--parentage--good parentage-- To equal mine!--was it not thus? what say you? MARINA I said, my lord, if you did know my parentage, You would not do me violence. PERICLES I do think so. Pray you, turn your eyes upon me. You are like something that--What country-woman? Here of these shores? MARINA No, nor of any shores: Yet I was mortally brought forth, and am No other than I appear. PERICLES I am great with woe, and shall deliver weeping. My dearest wife was like this maid, and such a one My daughter might have been: my queen's square brows; Her stature to an inch; as wand-like straight; As silver-voiced; her eyes as jewel-like And cased as richly; in pace another Juno; Who starves the ears she feeds, and makes them hungry, The more she gives them speech. Where do you live? MARINA Where I am but a stranger: from the deck You may discern the place. PERICLES Where were you bred? And how achieved you these endowments, which You make more rich to owe? MARINA If I should tell my history, it would seem Like lies disdain'd in the reporting. PERICLES Prithee, speak: Falseness cannot come from thee; for thou look'st Modest as Justice, and thou seem'st a palace For the crown'd Truth to dwell in: I will believe thee, And make my senses credit thy relation To points that seem impossible; for thou look'st Like one I loved indeed. What were thy friends? Didst thou not say, when I did push thee back-- Which was when I perceived thee--that thou camest From good descending? MARINA So indeed I did. PERICLES Report thy parentage. I think thou said'st Thou hadst been toss'd from wrong to injury, And that thou thought'st thy griefs might equal mine, If both were open'd. MARINA Some such thing I said, and said no more but what my thoughts Did warrant me was likely. PERICLES Tell thy story; If thine consider'd prove the thousandth part Of my endurance, thou art a man, and I Have suffer'd like a girl: yet thou dost look Like Patience gazing on kings' graves, and smiling Extremity out of act. What were thy friends? How lost thou them? Thy name, my most kind virgin? Recount, I do beseech thee: come, sit by me. MARINA My name is Marina. PERICLES O, I am mock'd, And thou by some incensed god sent hither To make the world to laugh at me. MARINA Patience, good sir, Or here I'll cease. PERICLES Nay, I'll be patient. Thou little know'st how thou dost startle me, To call thyself Marina. MARINA The name Was given me by one that had some power, My father, and a king. PERICLES How! a king's daughter? And call'd Marina? MARINA You said you would believe me; But, not to be a troubler of your peace, I will end here. PERICLES But are you flesh and blood? Have you a working pulse? and are no fairy? Motion! Well; speak on. Where were you born? And wherefore call'd Marina? MARINA Call'd Marina For I was born at sea. PERICLES At sea! what mother? MARINA My mother was the daughter of a king; Who died the minute I was born, As my good nurse Lychorida hath oft Deliver'd weeping. PERICLES O, stop there a little! [Aside] This is the rarest dream that e'er dull sleep Did mock sad fools withal: this cannot be: My daughter's buried. Well: where were you bred? I'll hear you more, to the bottom of your story, And never interrupt you. MARINA You scorn: believe me, 'twere best I did give o'er. PERICLES I will believe you by the syllable Of what you shall deliver. Yet, give me leave: How came you in these parts? where were you bred? MARINA The king my father did in Tarsus leave me; Till cruel Cleon, with his wicked wife, Did seek to murder me: and having woo'd A villain to attempt it, who having drawn to do't, A crew of pirates came and rescued me; Brought me to Mytilene. But, good sir, Whither will you have me? Why do you weep? It may be, You think me an impostor: no, good faith; I am the daughter to King Pericles, If good King Pericles be. PERICLES Ho, Helicanus! HELICANUS Calls my lord? PERICLES Thou art a grave and noble counsellor, Most wise in general: tell me, if thou canst, What this maid is, or what is like to be, That thus hath made me weep? HELICANUS I know not; but Here is the regent, sir, of Mytilene Speaks nobly of her. LYSIMACHUS She would never tell Her parentage; being demanded that, She would sit still and weep. PERICLES O Helicanus, strike me, honour'd sir; Give me a gash, put me to present pain; Lest this great sea of joys rushing upon me O'erbear the shores of my mortality, And drown me with their sweetness. O, come hither, Thou that beget'st him that did thee beget; Thou that wast born at sea, buried at Tarsus, And found at sea again! O Helicanus, Down on thy knees, thank the holy gods as loud As thunder threatens us: this is Marina. What was thy mother's name? tell me but that, For truth can never be confirm'd enough, Though doubts did ever sleep. MARINA First, sir, I pray, What is your title? PERICLES I am Pericles of Tyre: but tell me now My drown'd queen's name, as in the rest you said Thou hast been godlike perfect, The heir of kingdoms and another like To Pericles thy father. MARINA Is it no more to be your daughter than To say my mother's name was Thaisa? Thaisa was my mother, who did end The minute I began. PERICLES Now, blessing on thee! rise; thou art my child. Give me fresh garments. Mine own, Helicanus; She is not dead at Tarsus, as she should have been, By savage Cleon: she shall tell thee all; When thou shalt kneel, and justify in knowledge She is thy very princess. Who is this? HELICANUS Sir, 'tis the governor of Mytilene, Who, hearing of your melancholy state, Did come to see you. PERICLES I embrace you. Give me my robes. I am wild in my beholding. O heavens bless my girl! But, hark, what music? Tell Helicanus, my Marina, tell him O'er, point by point, for yet he seems to doubt, How sure you are my daughter. But, what music? HELICANUS My lord, I hear none. PERICLES None! The music of the spheres! List, my Marina. LYSIMACHUS It is not good to cross him; give him way. PERICLES Rarest sounds! Do ye not hear? LYSIMACHUS My lord, I hear. [Music] PERICLES Most heavenly music! It nips me unto listening, and thick slumber Hangs upon mine eyes: let me rest. [Sleeps] LYSIMACHUS A pillow for his head: So, leave him all. Well, my companion friends, If this but answer to my just belief, I'll well remember you. [Exeunt all but PERICLES] [DIANA appears to PERICLES as in a vision] DIANA My temple stands in Ephesus: hie thee thither, And do upon mine altar sacrifice. There, when my maiden priests are met together, Before the people all, Reveal how thou at sea didst lose thy wife: To mourn thy crosses, with thy daughter's, call And give them repetition to the life. Or perform my bidding, or thou livest in woe; Do it, and happy; by my silver bow! Awake, and tell thy dream. [Disappears] PERICLES Celestial Dian, goddess argentine, I will obey thee. Helicanus! [Re-enter HELICANUS, LYSIMACHUS, and MARINA] HELICANUS Sir? PERICLES My purpose was for Tarsus, there to strike The inhospitable Cleon; but I am For other service first: toward Ephesus Turn our blown sails; eftsoons I'll tell thee why. [To LYSIMACHUS] Shall we refresh us, sir, upon your shore, And give you gold for such provision As our intents will need? LYSIMACHUS Sir, With all my heart; and, when you come ashore, I have another suit. PERICLES You shall prevail, Were it to woo my daughter; for it seems You have been noble towards her. LYSIMACHUS Sir, lend me your arm. PERICLES Come, my Marina. [Exeunt] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT V SCENE II: [Enter GOWER, before the temple of DIANA at Ephesus] GOWER Now our sands are almost run; More a little, and then dumb. This, my last boon, give me, For such kindness must relieve me, That you aptly will suppose What pageantry, what feats, what shows, What minstrelsy, and pretty din, The regent made in Mytilene To greet the king. So he thrived, That he is promised to be wived To fair Marina; but in no wise Till he had done his sacrifice, As Dian bade: whereto being bound, The interim, pray you, all confound. In feather'd briefness sails are fill'd, And wishes fall out as they're will'd. At Ephesus, the temple see, Our king and all his company. That he can hither come so soon, Is by your fancy's thankful doom. [Exit] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT V SCENE III The temple of Diana at Ephesus; THAISA standing near the altar, as high priestess; a number of Virgins on each side; CERIMON and other Inhabitants of Ephesus attending. [Enter PERICLES, with his train; LYSIMACHUS, HELICANUS, MARINA, and a Lady] PERICLES Hail, Dian! to perform thy just command, I here confess myself the king of Tyre; Who, frighted from my country, did wed At Pentapolis the fair Thaisa. At sea in childbed died she, but brought forth A maid-child call'd Marina; who, O goddess, Wears yet thy silver livery. She at Tarsus Was nursed with Cleon; who at fourteen years He sought to murder: but her better stars Brought her to Mytilene; 'gainst whose shore Riding, her fortunes brought the maid aboard us, Where, by her own most clear remembrance, she Made known herself my daughter. THAISA Voice and favour! You are, you are--O royal Pericles! [Faints] PERICLES What means the nun? she dies! help, gentlemen! CERIMON Noble sir, If you have told Diana's altar true, This is your wife. PERICLES Reverend appearer, no; I threw her overboard with these very arms. CERIMON Upon this coast, I warrant you. PERICLES 'Tis most certain. CERIMON Look to the lady; O, she's but o'erjoy'd. Early in blustering morn this lady was Thrown upon this shore. I oped the coffin, Found there rich jewels; recover'd her, and placed her Here in Diana's temple. PERICLES May we see them? CERIMON Great sir, they shall be brought you to my house, Whither I invite you. Look, Thaisa is recovered. THAISA O, let me look! If he be none of mine, my sanctity Will to my sense bend no licentious ear, But curb it, spite of seeing. O, my lord, Are you not Pericles? Like him you spake, Like him you are: did you not name a tempest, A birth, and death? PERICLES The voice of dead Thaisa! THAISA That Thaisa am I, supposed dead And drown'd. PERICLES Immortal Dian! THAISA Now I know you better. When we with tears parted Pentapolis, The king my father gave you such a ring. [Shows a ring] PERICLES This, this: no more, you gods! your present kindness Makes my past miseries sports: you shall do well, That on the touching of her lips I may Melt and no more be seen. O, come, be buried A second time within these arms. MARINA My heart Leaps to be gone into my mother's bosom. [Kneels to THAISA] PERICLES Look, who kneels here! Flesh of thy flesh, Thaisa; Thy burden at the sea, and call'd Marina For she was yielded there. THAISA Blest, and mine own! HELICANUS Hail, madam, and my queen! THAISA I know you not. PERICLES You have heard me say, when I did fly from Tyre, I left behind an ancient substitute: Can you remember what I call'd the man? I have named him oft. THAISA 'Twas Helicanus then. PERICLES Still confirmation: Embrace him, dear Thaisa; this is he. Now do I long to hear how you were found; How possibly preserved; and who to thank, Besides the gods, for this great miracle. THAISA Lord Cerimon, my lord; this man, Through whom the gods have shown their power; that can From first to last resolve you. PERICLES Reverend sir, The gods can have no mortal officer More like a god than you. Will you deliver How this dead queen re-lives? CERIMON I will, my lord. Beseech you, first go with me to my house, Where shall be shown you all was found with her; How she came placed here in the temple; No needful thing omitted. PERICLES Pure Dian, bless thee for thy vision! I Will offer night-oblations to thee. Thaisa, This prince, the fair-betrothed of your daughter, Shall marry her at Pentapolis. And now, This ornament Makes me look dismal will I clip to form; And what this fourteen years no razor touch'd, To grace thy marriage-day, I'll beautify. THAISA Lord Cerimon hath letters of good credit, sir, My father's dead. PERICLES Heavens make a star of him! Yet there, my queen, We'll celebrate their nuptials, and ourselves Will in that kingdom spend our following days: Our son and daughter shall in Tyrus reign. Lord Cerimon, we do our longing stay To hear the rest untold: sir, lead's the way. [Exeunt] [Enter GOWER] GOWER In Antiochus and his daughter you have heard Of monstrous lust the due and just reward: In Pericles, his queen and daughter, seen, Although assail'd with fortune fierce and keen, Virtue preserved from fell destruction's blast, Led on by heaven, and crown'd with joy at last: In Helicanus may you well descry A figure of truth, of faith, of loyalty: In reverend Cerimon there well appears The worth that learned charity aye wears: For wicked Cleon and his wife, when fame Had spread their cursed deed, and honour'd name Of Pericles, to rage the city turn, That him and his they in his palace burn; The gods for murder seemed so content To punish them; although not done, but meant. So, on your patience evermore attending, New joy wait on you! Here our play has ending. [Exit] THE WINTER'S TALE DRAMATIS PERSONAE LEONTES king of Sicilia. MAMILLIUS young prince of Sicilia. CAMILLO | | ANTIGONUS | | Four Lords of Sicilia. CLEOMENES | | DION | POLIXENES King of Bohemia. FLORIZEL Prince of Bohemia. ARCHIDAMUS a Lord of Bohemia. Old Shepherd reputed father of Perdita. (Shepherd:) Clown his son. AUTOLYCUS a rogue. A Mariner. (Mariner:) A Gaoler. (Gaoler:) HERMIONE queen to Leontes. PERDITA daughter to Leontes and Hermione. PAULINA wife to Antigonus. EMILIA a lady attending on Hermione, MOPSA | | Shepherdesses. DORCAS | Other Lords and Gentlemen, Ladies, Officers, and Servants, Shepherds, and Shepherdesses. (First Lord:) (Gentleman:) (First Gentleman:) (Second Gentleman:) (Third Gentleman:) (First Lady:) (Second Lady:) (Officer:) (Servant:) (First Servant:) (Second Servant:) Time as Chorus. SCENE Sicilia, and Bohemia. THE WINTER'S TALE ACT I SCENE I Antechamber in LEONTES' palace. [Enter CAMILLO and ARCHIDAMUS] ARCHIDAMUS If you shall chance, Camillo, to visit Bohemia, on the like occasion whereon my services are now on foot, you shall see, as I have said, great difference betwixt our Bohemia and your Sicilia. CAMILLO I think, this coming summer, the King of Sicilia means to pay Bohemia the visitation which he justly owes him. ARCHIDAMUS Wherein our entertainment shall shame us we will be justified in our loves; for indeed-- CAMILLO Beseech you,-- ARCHIDAMUS Verily, I speak it in the freedom of my knowledge: we cannot with such magnificence--in so rare--I know not what to say. We will give you sleepy drinks, that your senses, unintelligent of our insufficience, may, though they cannot praise us, as little accuse us. CAMILLO You pay a great deal too dear for what's given freely. ARCHIDAMUS Believe me, I speak as my understanding instructs me and as mine honesty puts it to utterance. CAMILLO Sicilia cannot show himself over-kind to Bohemia. They were trained 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 seemed to be together, though absent, shook hands, as over a vast, and embraced, as it were, from the ends of opposed winds. The heavens continue their loves! ARCHIDAMUS I think there is not in the world either malice or matter to alter it. You have an unspeakable comfort of your young prince Mamillius: it is a gentleman of the greatest promise that ever came into my note. CAMILLO I very well agree with you in the hopes of him: 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. ARCHIDAMUS Would they else be content to die? CAMILLO Yes; if there were no other excuse why they should desire to live. ARCHIDAMUS If the king had no son, they would desire to live on crutches till he had one. [Exeunt] THE WINTER'S TALE ACT I SCENE II A room of state in the same. [Enter LEONTES, HERMIONE, MAMILLIUS, POLIXENES, CAMILLO, and Attendants] POLIXENES Nine changes of the watery star hath been The shepherd's note since we have left our throne Without a burthen: time as long again Would be find up, my brother, with our thanks; And yet we should, for perpetuity, Go hence in debt: and therefore, like a cipher, Yet standing in rich place, I multiply With one 'We thank you' many thousands moe That go before it. LEONTES Stay your thanks a while; And pay them when you part. POLIXENES Sir, that's to-morrow. I am question'd by my fears, of what may chance Or breed upon our absence; that may blow No sneaping winds at home, to make us say 'This is put forth too truly:' besides, I have stay'd To tire your royalty. LEONTES We are tougher, brother, Than you can put us to't. POLIXENES No longer stay. LEONTES One seven-night longer. POLIXENES Very sooth, to-morrow. LEONTES We'll part the time between's then; and in that I'll no gainsaying. POLIXENES Press me not, beseech you, so. There is no tongue that moves, none, none i' the world, So soon as yours could win me: so it should now, Were there necessity in your request, although 'Twere needful I denied it. My affairs Do even drag me homeward: which to hinder Were in your love a whip to me; my stay To you a charge and trouble: to save both, Farewell, our brother. LEONTES Tongue-tied, our queen? speak you. HERMIONE I had thought, sir, to have held my peace until You have drawn oaths from him not to stay. You, sir, Charge him too coldly. Tell him, you are sure All in Bohemia's well; this satisfaction The by-gone day proclaim'd: say this to him, He's beat from his best ward. LEONTES Well said, Hermione. HERMIONE To tell, he longs to see his son, were strong: But let him say so then, and let him go; But let him swear so, and he shall not stay, We'll thwack him hence with distaffs. Yet of your royal presence I'll adventure The borrow of a week. When at Bohemia You take my lord, I'll give him my commission To let him there a month behind the gest Prefix'd for's parting: yet, good deed, Leontes, I love thee not a jar o' the clock behind What lady-she her lord. You'll stay? POLIXENES No, madam. HERMIONE Nay, but you will? POLIXENES I may not, verily. HERMIONE Verily! You put me off with limber vows; but I, Though you would seek to unsphere the stars with oaths, Should yet say 'Sir, no going.' Verily, You shall not go: a lady's 'Verily' 's As potent as a lord's. Will you go yet? Force me to keep you as a prisoner, Not like a guest; so you shall pay your fees When you depart, and save your thanks. How say you? My prisoner? or my guest? by your dread 'Verily,' One of them you shall be. POLIXENES Your guest, then, madam: To be your prisoner should import offending; Which is for me less easy to commit Than you to punish. HERMIONE Not your gaoler, then, But your kind hostess. Come, I'll question you Of my lord's tricks and yours when you were boys: You were pretty lordings then? POLIXENES We were, fair queen, Two lads that thought there was no more behind But such a day to-morrow as to-day, And to be boy eternal. HERMIONE Was not my lord The verier wag o' the two? POLIXENES We were as twinn'd lambs that did frisk i' the sun, And bleat the one at the other: what we changed Was innocence for innocence; we knew not The doctrine of ill-doing, nor dream'd That any did. Had we pursued that life, And our weak spirits ne'er been higher rear'd With stronger blood, we should have answer'd heaven Boldly 'not guilty;' the imposition clear'd Hereditary ours. HERMIONE By this we gather You have tripp'd since. POLIXENES O my most sacred lady! Temptations have since then been born to's; for In those unfledged days was my wife a girl; Your precious self had then not cross'd the eyes Of my young play-fellow. HERMIONE Grace to boot! Of this make no conclusion, lest you say Your queen and I are devils: yet go on; The offences we have made you do we'll answer, If you first sinn'd with us and that with us You did continue fault and that you slipp'd not With any but with us. LEONTES Is he won yet? HERMIONE He'll stay my lord. LEONTES At my request he would not. Hermione, my dearest, thou never spokest To better purpose. HERMIONE Never? LEONTES Never, but once. HERMIONE What! have I twice said well? when was't before? I prithee tell me; cram's with praise, and make's As fat as tame things: one good deed dying tongueless Slaughters a thousand waiting upon that. Our praises are our wages: you may ride's With one soft kiss a thousand furlongs ere With spur we beat an acre. But to the goal: My last good deed was to entreat his stay: What was my first? it has an elder sister, Or I mistake you: O, would her name were Grace! But once before I spoke to the purpose: when? Nay, let me have't; I long. LEONTES Why, that was when Three crabbed months had sour'd themselves to death, Ere I could make thee open thy white hand And clap thyself my love: then didst thou utter 'I am yours for ever.' HERMIONE 'Tis grace indeed. Why, lo you now, I have spoke to the purpose twice: The one for ever earn'd a royal husband; The other for some while a friend. LEONTES [Aside] Too hot, too hot! To mingle friendship far is mingling bloods. I have tremor cordis on me: my heart dances; But not for joy; not joy. 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 practised smiles, As in a looking-glass, and then to sigh, as 'twere The mort o' the deer; O, that is entertainment My bosom likes not, nor my brows! Mamillius, Art thou my boy? MAMILLIUS Ay, my good lord. LEONTES I' fecks! Why, that's my bawcock. What, hast smutch'd thy nose? They say it is a copy out of mine. Come, captain, We must be neat; not neat, but cleanly, captain: And yet the steer, the heifer and the calf Are all call'd neat.--Still virginalling Upon his palm!--How now, you wanton calf! Art thou my calf? MAMILLIUS Yes, if you will, my lord. LEONTES Thou want'st a rough pash and the shoots that I have, To be full like me: yet they say we are Almost as like as eggs; women say so, That will say anything but were they false As o'er-dyed blacks, as wind, as waters, false As dice are to be wish'd by one that fixes No bourn 'twixt his and mine, yet were it true To say this boy were like me. Come, sir page, Look on me with your welkin eye: sweet villain! Most dear'st! my collop! Can thy dam?--may't be?-- Affection! thy intention stabs the centre: Thou dost make possible things not so held, Communicatest with dreams;--how can this be?-- With what's unreal thou coactive art, And fellow'st nothing: then 'tis very credent Thou mayst co-join with something; and thou dost, And that beyond commission, and I find it, And that to the infection of my brains And hardening of my brows. POLIXENES What means Sicilia? HERMIONE He something seems unsettled. POLIXENES How, my lord! What cheer? how is't with you, best brother? HERMIONE You look as if you held a brow of much distraction Are you moved, my lord? LEONTES No, in good earnest. How sometimes nature will betray its folly, Its tenderness, and make itself a pastime To harder bosoms! Looking on the lines Of my boy's face, methoughts I did recoil Twenty-three years, and saw myself unbreech'd, In my green velvet coat, my dagger muzzled, Lest it should bite its master, and so prove, As ornaments oft do, too dangerous: How like, methought, I then was to this kernel, This squash, this gentleman. Mine honest friend, Will you take eggs for money? MAMILLIUS No, my lord, I'll fight. LEONTES You will! why, happy man be's dole! My brother, Are you so fond of your young prince as we Do seem to be of ours? POLIXENES If at home, sir, He's all my exercise, my mirth, my matter, Now my sworn friend and then mine enemy, My parasite, my soldier, statesman, all: He makes a July's day short as December, And with his varying childness cures in me Thoughts that would thick my blood. LEONTES So stands this squire Officed with me: we two will walk, my lord, And leave you to your graver steps. Hermione, How thou lovest us, show in our brother's welcome; Let what is dear in Sicily be cheap: Next to thyself and my young rover, he's Apparent to my heart. HERMIONE If you would seek us, We are yours i' the garden: shall's attend you there? LEONTES To your own bents dispose you: you'll be found, Be you beneath the sky. [Aside] I am angling now, Though you perceive me not how I give line. Go to, go to! How she holds up the neb, the bill to him! And arms her with the boldness of a wife To her allowing husband! [Exeunt POLIXENES, HERMIONE, and Attendants] Gone already! Inch-thick, knee-deep, o'er head and ears a fork'd one! Go, play, boy, play: thy mother plays, and I Play too, but so disgraced a part, whose issue Will hiss me to my grave: contempt and clamour Will be my knell. Go, play, boy, play. There have been, Or I am much deceived, cuckolds ere now; And many a man there is, even at this present, Now while I speak this, holds his wife by the arm, That little thinks she has been sluiced in's absence And his pond fish'd by his next neighbour, by Sir Smile, his neighbour: 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 have revolted wives, the tenth of mankind Would hang themselves. Physic for't there is none; It is a bawdy planet, that will strike Where 'tis predominant; and 'tis powerful, think it, From east, west, north and south: be it concluded, No barricado for a belly; know't; It will let in and out the enemy With bag and baggage: many thousand on's Have the disease, and feel't not. How now, boy! MAMILLIUS I am like you, they say. LEONTES Why that's some comfort. What, Camillo there? CAMILLO Ay, my good lord. LEONTES Go play, Mamillius; thou'rt an honest man. [Exit MAMILLIUS] Camillo, this great sir will yet stay longer. CAMILLO You had much ado to make his anchor hold: When you cast out, it still came home. LEONTES Didst note it? CAMILLO He would not stay at your petitions: made His business more material. LEONTES Didst perceive it? [Aside] They're here with me already, whispering, rounding 'Sicilia is a so-forth:' 'tis far gone, When I shall gust it last. How came't, Camillo, That he did stay? CAMILLO At the good queen's entreaty. LEONTES At the queen's be't: 'good' should be pertinent But, so it is, it is not. Was this taken By any understanding pate but thine? For thy conceit is soaking, will draw in More than the common blocks: not noted, is't, But of the finer natures? by some severals Of head-piece extraordinary? lower messes Perchance are to this business purblind? say. CAMILLO Business, my lord! I think most understand Bohemia stays here longer. LEONTES Ha! CAMILLO Stays here longer. LEONTES Ay, but why? CAMILLO To satisfy your highness and the entreaties Of our most gracious mistress. LEONTES Satisfy! The entreaties of your mistress! satisfy! Let that suffice. I have trusted thee, Camillo, With all the nearest things to my heart, as well My chamber-councils, wherein, priest-like, thou Hast cleansed my bosom, I from thee departed Thy penitent reform'd: but we have been Deceived in thy integrity, deceived In that which seems so. CAMILLO Be it forbid, my lord! LEONTES To bide upon't, thou art not honest, or, If thou inclinest that way, thou art a coward, Which hoxes honesty behind, restraining From course required; or else thou must be counted A servant grafted in my serious trust And therein negligent; or else a fool That seest a game play'd home, the rich stake drawn, And takest it all for jest. CAMILLO My gracious lord, I may be negligent, foolish and fearful; In every one of these no man is free, But that his negligence, his folly, fear, Among the infinite doings of the world, Sometime puts forth. In your affairs, my lord, If ever I were wilful-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, Where of the execution did cry out Against the non-performance, 'twas a fear Which oft infects the wisest: these, my lord, Are such allow'd infirmities that honesty Is never free of. But, beseech your grace, Be plainer with me; let me know my trespass By its own visage: if I then deny it, 'Tis none of mine. LEONTES Ha' not you seen, Camillo,-- But that's past doubt, you have, or your eye-glass Is thicker than a cuckold's horn,--or heard,-- For to a vision so apparent rumour Cannot be mute,--or thought,--for cogitation Resides not in that man that does not think,-- My wife is slippery? If thou wilt confess, Or else be impudently negative, To have nor eyes nor ears nor thought, then say My wife's a hobby-horse, deserves a name As rank as any flax-wench that puts to Before her troth-plight: say't and justify't. CAMILLO I would not be a stander-by to hear My sovereign mistress clouded so, without My present vengeance taken: 'shrew my heart, You never spoke what did become you less Than this; which to reiterate were sin As deep as that, though true. LEONTES Is whispering nothing? Is leaning cheek to cheek? is meeting noses? Kissing with inside lip? stopping the career Of laughing with a sigh?--a note infallible Of breaking honesty--horsing foot on foot? Skulking in corners? wishing clocks more swift? Hours, minutes? noon, midnight? and all eyes Blind with the pin and web but theirs, theirs only, That would unseen be wicked? is this nothing? Why, then the world and all that's in't is nothing; The covering sky is nothing; Bohemia nothing; My wife is nothing; nor nothing have these nothings, If this be nothing. CAMILLO Good my lord, be cured Of this diseased opinion, and betimes; For 'tis most dangerous. LEONTES Say it be, 'tis true. CAMILLO No, no, my lord. LEONTES It is; you lie, you lie: 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. CAMILLO Who does infect her? LEONTES Why, he that wears her like a medal, hanging About his neck, Bohemia: who, if I Had servants true about me, that bare eyes To see alike mine honour as their profits, Their own particular thrifts, they would do that Which should undo more doing: ay, and thou, His cupbearer,--whom I from meaner form Have benched and reared to worship, who mayst see Plainly as heaven sees earth and earth sees heaven, How I am galled,--mightst bespice a cup, To give mine enemy a lasting wink; Which draught to me were cordial. CAMILLO Sir, my lord, I could do this, and that with no rash potion, But with a lingering dram that should not work Maliciously like poison: but I cannot Believe this crack to be in my dread mistress, So sovereignly being honourable. I have loved thee,-- LEONTES Make that thy question, and go rot! Dost think I am so muddy, so unsettled, To appoint myself in this vexation, sully The purity and whiteness of my sheets, Which to preserve is sleep, which being spotted Is goads, thorns, nettles, tails of wasps, Give scandal to the blood o' the prince my son, Who I do think is mine and love as mine, Without ripe moving to't? Would I do this? Could man so blench? CAMILLO I must believe you, sir: I do; and will fetch off Bohemia for't; Provided that, when he's removed, your highness Will take again your queen as yours at first, Even for your son's sake; and thereby for sealing The injury of tongues in courts and kingdoms Known and allied to yours. LEONTES Thou dost advise me Even so as I mine own course have set down: I'll give no blemish to her honour, none. CAMILLO My lord, Go then; and with a countenance as clear As friendship wears at feasts, keep with Bohemia And with your queen. I am his cupbearer: If from me he have wholesome beverage, Account me not your servant. LEONTES This is all: Do't and thou hast the one half of my heart; Do't not, thou split'st thine own. CAMILLO I'll do't, my lord. LEONTES I will seem friendly, as thou hast advised me. [Exit] CAMILLO O miserable lady! But, for me, What case stand I in? I must be the poisoner Of good Polixenes; and my ground to do't Is the obedience to a master, one Who in rebellion with himself will have All that are his so too. To do this deed, Promotion follows. If I could find example Of thousands that had struck anointed kings And flourish'd after, I'ld not do't; but since Nor brass nor stone nor parchment bears not one, Let villany itself forswear't. I must Forsake the court: to do't, or no, is certain To me a break-neck. Happy star, reign now! Here comes Bohemia. [Re-enter POLIXENES] POLIXENES This is strange: methinks My favour here begins to warp. Not speak? Good day, Camillo. CAMILLO Hail, most royal sir! POLIXENES What is the news i' the court? CAMILLO None rare, my lord. POLIXENES The king hath on him such a countenance As he had lost some province and a region Loved as he loves himself: even now I met him With customary compliment; when he, Wafting his eyes to the contrary and falling A lip of much contempt, speeds from me and So leaves me to consider what is breeding That changeth thus his manners. CAMILLO I dare not know, my lord. POLIXENES How! dare not! do not. Do you know, and dare not? Be intelligent to me: 'tis thereabouts; For, to yourself, what you do know, you must. And cannot say, you dare not. Good Camillo, Your changed complexions are to me a mirror Which shows me mine changed too; for I must be A party in this alteration, finding Myself thus alter'd with 't. CAMILLO There is a sickness Which puts some of us in distemper, but I cannot name the disease; and it is caught Of you that yet are well. POLIXENES How! caught of me! Make me not sighted like the basilisk: I have look'd on thousands, who have sped the better By my regard, but kill'd none so. Camillo,-- As you are certainly a gentleman, thereto Clerk-like experienced, which no less adorns Our gentry than our parents' noble names, In whose success we are gentle,--I beseech you, If you know aught which does behove my knowledge Thereof to be inform'd, imprison't not In ignorant concealment. CAMILLO I may not answer. POLIXENES A sickness caught of me, and yet I well! I must be answer'd. Dost thou hear, Camillo, I conjure thee, by all the parts of man Which honour does acknowledge, whereof the least Is not this suit of mine, that thou declare What incidency thou dost guess of harm Is creeping toward me; how far off, how near; Which way to be prevented, if to be; If not, how best to bear it. CAMILLO Sir, I will tell you; Since I am charged in honour and by him That I think honourable: therefore mark my counsel, Which must be even as swiftly follow'd as I mean to utter it, or both yourself and me Cry lost, and so good night! POLIXENES On, good Camillo. CAMILLO I am appointed him to murder you. POLIXENES By whom, Camillo? CAMILLO By the king. POLIXENES For what? CAMILLO He thinks, nay, with all confidence he swears, As he had seen't or been an instrument To vice you to't, that you have touch'd his queen Forbiddenly. POLIXENES O, then my best blood turn To an infected jelly and my name Be yoked with his that did betray the Best! Turn then my freshest reputation to A savour that may strike the dullest nostril Where I arrive, and my approach be shunn'd, Nay, hated too, worse than the great'st infection That e'er was heard or read! CAMILLO 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 piled upon his faith and will continue The standing of his body. POLIXENES How should this grow? CAMILLO I know not: but I am sure 'tis safer to Avoid what's grown than question how 'tis born. If therefore you dare trust my honesty, That lies enclosed in this trunk which you Shall bear along impawn'd, away to-night! Your followers I will whisper to the business, And will by twos and threes at several posterns Clear them o' the city. For myself, I'll put My fortunes to your service, which are here By this discovery lost. Be not uncertain; For, by the honour of my parents, I Have utter'd truth: which if you seek to prove, I dare not stand by; nor shall you be safer Than one condemn'd by the king's own mouth, thereon His execution sworn. POLIXENES I do believe thee: I saw his heart in 's face. Give me thy hand: Be pilot to me and thy places shall Still neighbour mine. My ships are ready and My people did expect my hence departure Two days ago. This jealousy Is for a precious creature: as she's rare, Must it be great, and as his person's mighty, Must it be violent, and as he does conceive He is dishonour'd by a man which ever Profess'd to him, why, his revenges must In that be made more bitter. Fear o'ershades me: Good expedition be my friend, and comfort The gracious queen, part of his theme, but nothing Of his ill-ta'en suspicion! Come, Camillo; I will respect thee as a father if Thou bear'st my life off hence: let us avoid. CAMILLO It is in mine authority to command The keys of all the posterns: please your highness To take the urgent hour. Come, sir, away. [Exeunt] THE WINTER'S TALE ACT II SCENE I A room in LEONTES' palace. [Enter HERMIONE, MAMILLIUS, and Ladies] HERMIONE Take the boy to you: he so troubles me, 'Tis past enduring. First Lady Come, my gracious lord, Shall I be your playfellow? MAMILLIUS No, I'll none of you. First Lady Why, my sweet lord? MAMILLIUS You'll kiss me hard and speak to me as if I were a baby still. I love you better. Second Lady And why so, my lord? MAMILLIUS Not for because Your brows are blacker; yet black brows, they say, Become some women best, so that there be not Too much hair there, but in a semicircle Or a half-moon made with a pen. Second Lady Who taught you this? MAMILLIUS I learnt it out of women's faces. Pray now What colour are your eyebrows? First Lady Blue, my lord. MAMILLIUS Nay, that's a mock: I have seen a lady's nose That has been blue, but not her eyebrows. First Lady Hark ye; The queen your mother rounds apace: we shall Present our services to a fine new prince One of these days; and then you'ld wanton with us, If we would have you. Second Lady She is spread of late Into a goodly bulk: good time encounter her! HERMIONE What wisdom stirs amongst you? Come, sir, now I am for you again: pray you, sit by us, And tell 's a tale. MAMILLIUS Merry or sad shall't be? HERMIONE As merry as you will. MAMILLIUS A sad tale's best for winter: I have one Of sprites and goblins. HERMIONE Let's have that, good sir. Come on, sit down: come on, and do your best To fright me with your sprites; you're powerful at it. MAMILLIUS There was a man-- HERMIONE Nay, come, sit down; then on. MAMILLIUS Dwelt by a churchyard: I will tell it softly; Yond crickets shall not hear it. HERMIONE Come on, then, And give't me in mine ear. [Enter LEONTES, with ANTIGONUS, Lords and others] LEONTES Was he met there? his train? Camillo with him? First Lord Behind the tuft of pines I met them; never Saw I men scour so on their way: I eyed them Even to their ships. LEONTES How blest am I In my just censure, in my true opinion! Alack, for lesser knowledge! how accursed In being so blest! There may be in the cup A spider steep'd, and one may drink, depart, And yet partake no venom, for his knowledge Is not infected: but if one present The abhorr'd ingredient to his eye, make known How he hath drunk, he cracks his gorge, his sides, With violent hefts. I have drunk, and seen the spider. Camillo was his help in this, his pander: There is a plot against my life, my crown; All's true that is mistrusted: 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. How came the posterns So easily open? First Lord By his great authority; Which often hath no less prevail'd than so On your command. LEONTES I know't too well. Give me the boy: I am glad you did not nurse him: Though he does bear some signs of me, yet you Have too much blood in him. HERMIONE What is this? sport? LEONTES Bear the boy hence; he shall not come about her; Away with him! and let her sport herself With that she's big with; for 'tis Polixenes Has made thee swell thus. HERMIONE But I'ld say he had not, And I'll be sworn you would believe my saying, Howe'er you lean to the nayward. LEONTES You, my lords, Look on her, mark her well; be but about To say 'she is a goodly lady,' and The justice of your bearts will thereto add 'Tis pity she's not honest, honourable:' Praise her but for this her without-door form, Which on my faith deserves high speech, and straight The shrug, the hum or ha, these petty brands That calumny doth use--O, I am out-- That mercy does, for calumny will sear Virtue itself: these shrugs, these hums and ha's, When you have said 'she's goodly,' come between Ere you can say 'she's honest:' but be 't known, From him that has most cause to grieve it should be, She's an adulteress. HERMIONE Should a villain say so, The most replenish'd villain in the world, He were as much more villain: you, my lord, Do but mistake. LEONTES You have mistook, my lady, Polixenes for Leontes: 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: I have said She's an adulteress; I have said with whom: 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. HERMIONE No, by my life. Privy to none of this. How will this grieve you, When you shall come to clearer knowledge, that You thus have publish'd me! Gentle my lord, You scarce can right me throughly then to say You did mistake. LEONTES No; if I mistake In those foundations which I build upon, The centre is not big enough to bear A school-boy's top. Away with her! to prison! He who shall speak for her is afar off guilty But that he speaks. HERMIONE There's some ill planet reigns: I must be patient till the heavens look With an aspect more favourable. Good my lords, I am not prone to weeping, as our sex Commonly are; the want of which vain dew Perchance shall dry your pities: but I have That honourable grief lodged here which burns Worse than tears drown: beseech you all, my lords, With thoughts so qualified as your charities Shall best instruct you, measure me; and so The king's will be perform'd! LEONTES Shall I be heard? HERMIONE Who is't that goes with me? Beseech your highness, My women may be with me; for you see My plight requires it. Do not weep, good fools; There is no cause: when you shall know your mistress Has deserved prison, then abound in tears As I come out: this action I now go on Is for my better grace. Adieu, my lord: I never wish'd to see you sorry; now I trust I shall. My women, come; you have leave. LEONTES Go, do our bidding; hence! [Exit HERMIONE, guarded; with Ladies] First Lord Beseech your highness, call the queen again. ANTIGONUS Be certain what you do, sir, lest your justice Prove violence; in the which three great ones suffer, Yourself, your queen, your son. First Lord For her, my lord, I dare my life lay down and will do't, sir, Please you to accept it, that the queen is spotless I' the eyes of heaven and to you; I mean, In this which you accuse her. ANTIGONUS If it prove She's otherwise, I'll keep my stables where I lodge my wife; I'll go in couples with her; Than when I feel and see her no farther trust her; For every inch of woman in the world, Ay, every dram of woman's flesh is false, If she be. LEONTES Hold your peaces. First Lord Good my lord,-- ANTIGONUS It is for you we speak, not for ourselves: You are abused and by some putter-on That will be damn'd for't; would I knew the villain, I would land-damn him. Be she honour-flaw'd, I have three daughters; the eldest is eleven The second and the third, nine, and some five; If this prove true, they'll pay for't: by mine honour, I'll geld 'em all; fourteen they shall not see, To bring false generations: they are co-heirs; And I had rather glib myself than they Should not produce fair issue. LEONTES Cease; no more. 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. ANTIGONUS 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. LEONTES What! lack I credit? First Lord I had rather you did lack than I, my lord, Upon this ground; and more it would content me To have her honour true than your suspicion, Be blamed for't how you might. LEONTES Why, what need we Commune with you of this, but rather follow Our forceful instigation? Our prerogative Calls not your counsels, but our natural goodness Imparts this; which if you, or stupefied Or seeming so in skill, cannot or will not Relish a truth like us, inform yourselves We need no more of your advice: the matter, The loss, the gain, the ordering on't, is all Properly ours. ANTIGONUS And I wish, my liege, You had only in your silent judgment tried it, Without more overture. LEONTES How could that be? Either thou art most ignorant by age, Or thou wert born a fool. Camillo's flight, Added to their familiarity, Which was as gross as ever touch'd conjecture, That lack'd sight only, nought for approbation But only seeing, all other circumstances Made up to the deed, doth push on this proceeding: Yet, for a greater confirmation, For in an act of this importance 'twere Most piteous to be wild, I have dispatch'd in post To sacred Delphos, to Apollo's temple, Cleomenes and Dion, whom you know Of stuff'd sufficiency: now from the oracle They will bring all; whose spiritual counsel had, Shall stop or spur me. Have I done well? First Lord Well done, my lord. LEONTES Though I am satisfied and need no more Than what I know, yet shall the oracle Give rest to the minds of others, such as he Whose ignorant credulity will not Come up to the truth. So have we thought it good From our free person she should be confined, Lest that the treachery of the two fled hence Be left her to perform. Come, follow us; We are to speak in public; for this business Will raise us all. ANTIGONUS [Aside] To laughter, as I take it, If the good truth were known. [Exeunt] THE WINTER'S TALE ACT II SCENE II A prison. [Enter PAULINA, a Gentleman, and Attendants] PAULINA The keeper of the prison, call to him; let him have knowledge who I am. [Exit Gentleman] Good lady, No court in Europe is too good for thee; What dost thou then in prison? [Re-enter Gentleman, with the Gaoler] Now, good sir, You know me, do you not? Gaoler For a worthy lady And one whom much I honour. PAULINA Pray you then, Conduct me to the queen. Gaoler I may not, madam: To the contrary I have express commandment. PAULINA Here's ado, To lock up honesty and honour from The access of gentle visitors! Is't lawful, pray you, To see her women? any of them? Emilia? Gaoler So please you, madam, To put apart these your attendants, I Shall bring Emilia forth. PAULINA I pray now, call her. Withdraw yourselves. [Exeunt Gentleman and Attendants] Gaoler And, madam, I must be present at your conference. PAULINA Well, be't so, prithee. [Exit Gaoler] Here's such ado to make no stain a stain As passes colouring. [Re-enter Gaoler, with EMILIA] Dear gentlewoman, How fares our gracious lady? EMILIA As well as one so great and so forlorn May hold together: on her frights and griefs, Which never tender lady hath born greater, She is something before her time deliver'd. PAULINA A boy? EMILIA A daughter, and a goodly babe, Lusty and like to live: the queen receives Much comfort in't; says 'My poor prisoner, I am innocent as you.' PAULINA I dare be sworn These dangerous unsafe lunes i' the king, beshrew them! He must be told on't, and he shall: 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. Pray you, Emilia, Commend my best obedience to the queen: If she dares trust me with her little babe, I'll show't the king and undertake to be Her advocate to the loud'st. We do not know How he may soften at the sight o' the child: The silence often of pure innocence Persuades when speaking fails. EMILIA Most worthy madam, Your honour and your goodness is so evident That your free undertaking cannot miss A thriving issue: there is no lady living So meet for this great errand. Please your ladyship To visit the next room, I'll presently Acquaint the queen of your most noble offer; Who but to-day hammer'd of this design, But durst not tempt a minister of honour, Lest she should be denied. PAULINA Tell her, Emilia. I'll use that tongue I have: if wit flow from't As boldness from my bosom, let 't not be doubted I shall do good. EMILIA Now be you blest for it! I'll to the queen: please you, come something nearer. Gaoler Madam, if't please the queen to send the babe, I know not what I shall incur to pass it, Having no warrant. PAULINA You need not fear it, sir: This child was prisoner to the womb and is By law and process of great nature thence Freed and enfranchised, not a party to The anger of the king nor guilty of, If any be, the trespass of the queen. Gaoler I do believe it. PAULINA Do not you fear: upon mine honour, I will stand betwixt you and danger. [Exeunt] THE WINTER'S TALE ACT II SCENE III A room in LEONTES' palace. [Enter LEONTES, ANTIGONUS, Lords, and Servants] LEONTES Nor night nor day no rest: it is but weakness To bear the matter thus; mere weakness. If The cause were not in being,--part o' the cause, She the adulteress; for the harlot king Is quite beyond mine arm, out of the blank And level of my brain, plot-proof; but she I can hook to me: say that she were gone, Given to the fire, a moiety of my rest Might come to me again. Who's there? First Servant My lord? LEONTES How does the boy? First Servant He took good rest to-night; 'Tis hoped his sickness is discharged. LEONTES To see his nobleness! Conceiving the dishonour of his mother, He straight declined, droop'd, took it deeply, Fasten'd and fix'd the shame on't in himself, Threw off his spirit, his appetite, his sleep, And downright languish'd. Leave me solely: go, See how he fares. [Exit Servant] Fie, fie! no thought of him: The thought of my revenges that way Recoil upon me: in himself too mighty, And in his parties, his alliance; let him be Until a time may serve: for present vengeance, Take it on her. Camillo and Polixenes Laugh at me, make their pastime at my sorrow: They should not laugh if I could reach them, nor Shall she within my power. [Enter PAULINA, with a child] First Lord You must not enter. PAULINA Nay, rather, good my lords, be second to me: Fear you his tyrannous passion more, alas, Than the queen's life? a gracious innocent soul, More free than he is jealous. ANTIGONUS That's enough. Second Servant Madam, he hath not slept tonight; commanded None should come at him. PAULINA Not so hot, good sir: I come to bring him sleep. '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: I Do come with words as medicinal as true, Honest as either, to purge him of that humour That presses him from sleep. LEONTES What noise there, ho? PAULINA No noise, my lord; but needful conference About some gossips for your highness. LEONTES How! Away with that audacious lady! Antigonus, I charged thee that she should not come about me: I knew she would. ANTIGONUS I told her so, my lord, On your displeasure's peril and on mine, She should not visit you. LEONTES What, canst not rule her? PAULINA From all dishonesty he can: in this, Unless he take the course that you have done, Commit me for committing honour, trust it, He shall not rule me. ANTIGONUS La you now, you hear: When she will take the rein I let her run; But she'll not stumble. PAULINA Good my liege, I come; And, I beseech you, hear me, who profess Myself your loyal servant, your physician, Your most obedient counsellor, yet that dare Less appear so in comforting your evils, Than such as most seem yours: I say, I come From your good queen. LEONTES Good queen! PAULINA 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. LEONTES Force her hence. PAULINA Let him that makes but trifles of his eyes First hand me: on mine own accord I'll off; But first I'll do my errand. The good queen, For she is good, hath brought you forth a daughter; Here 'tis; commends it to your blessing. [Laying down the child] LEONTES Out! A mankind witch! Hence with her, out o' door: A most intelligencing bawd! PAULINA Not so: I am as ignorant in that as you In so entitling me, and no less honest Than you are mad; which is enough, I'll warrant, As this world goes, to pass for honest. LEONTES Traitors! Will you not push her out? Give her the bastard. Thou dotard! thou art woman-tired, unroosted By thy dame Partlet here. Take up the bastard; Take't up, I say; give't to thy crone. PAULINA For ever Unvenerable be thy hands, if thou Takest up the princess by that forced baseness Which he has put upon't! LEONTES He dreads his wife. PAULINA So I would you did; then 'twere past all doubt You'ld call your children yours. LEONTES A nest of traitors! ANTIGONUS I am none, by this good light. PAULINA Nor I, nor any But one that's here, and that's himself, for he The sacred honour of himself, his queen's, His hopeful son's, his babe's, betrays to slander, Whose sting is sharper than the sword's; and will not-- For, as the case now stands, it is a curse He cannot be compell'd to't--once remove The root of his opinion, which is rotten As ever oak or stone was sound. LEONTES 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: Hence with it, and together with the dam Commit them to the fire! PAULINA It is yours; And, might we lay the old proverb to your charge, So like you, 'tis the worse. 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: And thou, good goddess Nature, which hast made it So like to him that got it, if thou hast The ordering of the mind too, 'mongst all colours No yellow in't, lest she suspect, as he does, Her children not her husband's! LEONTES A gross hag And, lozel, thou art worthy to be hang'd, That wilt not stay her tongue. ANTIGONUS Hang all the husbands That cannot do that feat, you'll leave yourself Hardly one subject. LEONTES Once more, take her hence. PAULINA A most unworthy and unnatural lord Can do no more. LEONTES I'll ha' thee burnt. PAULINA I care not: It is an heretic that makes the fire, Not she which burns in't. I'll not call you tyrant; But this most cruel usage of your queen, Not able to produce more accusation Than your own weak-hinged fancy, something savours Of tyranny and will ignoble make you, Yea, scandalous to the world. LEONTES On your allegiance, Out of the chamber with her! Were I a tyrant, Where were her life? she durst not call me so, If she did know me one. Away with her! PAULINA I pray you, do not push me; I'll be gone. Look to your babe, my lord; 'tis yours: Jove send her A better guiding spirit! What needs these hands? You, that are thus so tender o'er his follies, Will never do him good, not one of you. So, so: farewell; we are gone. [Exit] LEONTES Thou, traitor, hast set on thy wife to this. My child? away with't! Even thou, that hast A heart so tender o'er it, take it hence And see it instantly consumed with fire; Even thou and none but thou. Take it up straight: Within this hour bring me word 'tis done, And by good testimony, or I'll seize thy life, With what thou else call'st thine. If thou refuse And wilt encounter with my wrath, say so; The bastard brains with these my proper hands Shall I dash out. Go, take it to the fire; For thou set'st on thy wife. ANTIGONUS I did not, sir: These lords, my noble fellows, if they please, Can clear me in't. Lords We can: my royal liege, He is not guilty of her coming hither. LEONTES You're liars all. First Lord Beseech your highness, give us better credit: We have always truly served you, and beseech you So to esteem of us, and on our knees we beg, As recompense of our dear services Past and to come, that you do change this purpose, Which being so horrible, so bloody, must Lead on to some foul issue: we all kneel. LEONTES I am a feather for each wind that blows: Shall I live on to see this bastard kneel And call me father? better burn it now Than curse it then. But be it; let it live. It shall not neither. You, sir, come you hither; You that have been so tenderly officious With Lady Margery, your midwife there, To save this bastard's life,--for 'tis a bastard, So sure as this beard's grey, --what will you adventure To save this brat's life? ANTIGONUS Any thing, my lord, That my ability may undergo And nobleness impose: at least thus much: I'll pawn the little blood which I have left To save the innocent: any thing possible. LEONTES It shall be possible. Swear by this sword Thou wilt perform my bidding. ANTIGONUS I will, my lord. LEONTES Mark and perform it, see'st thou! for the fail Of any point in't shall not only be Death to thyself but to thy lewd-tongued wife, Whom for this time we pardon. We enjoin thee, As thou art liege-man 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 its own protection And favour of the climate. As by strange fortune It came to us, I do in justice charge thee, On thy soul's peril and thy body's torture, That thou commend it strangely to some place Where chance may nurse or end it. Take it up. ANTIGONUS I swear to do this, though a present death Had been more merciful. Come on, poor babe: Some powerful spirit instruct the kites and ravens To be thy nurses! Wolves and bears, they say Casting their savageness aside have done Like offices of pity. Sir, be prosperous In more than this deed does require! And blessing Against this cruelty fight on thy side, Poor thing, condemn'd to loss! [Exit with the child] LEONTES No, I'll not rear Another's issue. [Enter a Servant] Servant Please your highness, posts From those you sent to the oracle are come An hour since: Cleomenes and Dion, Being well arrived from Delphos, are both landed, Hasting to the court. First Lord So please you, sir, their speed Hath been beyond account. LEONTES Twenty-three days They have been absent: 'tis good speed; foretells The great Apollo suddenly will have The truth of this appear. Prepare you, lords; Summon a session, that we may arraign Our most disloyal lady, for, as she hath Been publicly accused, so shall she have A just and open trial. While she lives My heart will be a burthen to me. Leave me, And think upon my bidding. [Exeunt] THE WINTER'S TALE ACT III SCENE I A sea-port in Sicilia. [Enter CLEOMENES and DION] CLEOMENES The climate's delicate, the air most sweet, Fertile the isle, the temple much surpassing The common praise it bears. DION I shall report, For most it caught me, the celestial habits, Methinks I so should term them, and the reverence Of the grave wearers. O, the sacrifice! How ceremonious, solemn and unearthly It was i' the offering! CLEOMENES But of all, the burst And the ear-deafening voice o' the oracle, Kin to Jove's thunder, so surprised my sense. That I was nothing. DION If the event o' the 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. CLEOMENES Great Apollo Turn all to the best! These proclamations, So forcing faults upon Hermione, I little like. DION The violent carriage of it Will clear or end the business: when the oracle, Thus by Apollo's great divine seal'd up, Shall the contents discover, something rare Even then will rush to knowledge. Go: fresh horses! And gracious be the issue! [Exeunt] THE WINTER'S TALE ACT III SCENE II A court of Justice. [Enter LEONTES, Lords, and Officers] LEONTES This sessions, to our great grief we pronounce, Even pushes 'gainst our heart: the party tried The daughter of a king, our wife, and one Of us too much beloved. 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. Produce the prisoner. Officer It is his highness' pleasure that the queen Appear in person here in court. Silence! [Enter HERMIONE guarded; PAULINA and Ladies attending] LEONTES Read the indictment. Officer [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: the pretence whereof being by circumstances partly laid open, thou, Hermione, contrary to the faith and allegiance of a true subject, didst counsel and aid them, for their better safety, to fly away by night. HERMIONE Since what I am to say must be but that Which contradicts my accusation and The testimony on my part no other But what comes from myself, it shall scarce boot me To say 'not guilty:' mine integrity Being counted falsehood, shall, as I express it, Be so received. But thus: if powers divine Behold our human actions, as they do, I doubt not then but innocence shall make False accusation blush and tyranny Tremble at patience. You, my lord, best know, Who least will seem to do so, my past life Hath been as continent, as chaste, as true, As I am now unhappy; which is more Than history can pattern, though devised And play'd to take spectators. For behold me A fellow of the royal bed, which owe A moiety of the throne a great king's daughter, The mother to a hopeful prince, here standing To prate and talk for life and honour 'fore Who please to come and hear. For life, I prize it As I weigh grief, which I would spare: for honour, 'Tis a derivative from me to mine, And only that I stand for. I appeal To your own conscience, sir, before Polixenes Came to your court, how I was in your grace, How merited to be so; since he came, With what encounter so uncurrent I Have strain'd to appear thus: if one jot beyond The bound of honour, or in act or will That way inclining, harden'd be the hearts Of all that hear me, and my near'st of kin Cry fie upon my grave! LEONTES I ne'er heard yet That any of these bolder vices wanted Less impudence to gainsay what they did Than to perform it first. HERMIONE That's true enough; Through 'tis a saying, sir, not due to me. LEONTES You will not own it. HERMIONE More than mistress of Which comes to me in name of fault, I must not At all acknowledge. For Polixenes, With whom I am accused, I do confess I loved him as in honour he required, With such a kind of love as might become A lady like me, with a love even such, So and no other, as yourself commanded: Which not to have done I think had been in me Both disobedience and ingratitude To you and toward your friend, whose love had spoke, Even since it could speak, from an infant, freely That it was yours. Now, for conspiracy, I know not how it tastes; though it be dish'd For me to try how: all I know of it Is that Camillo was an honest man; And why he left your court, the gods themselves, Wotting no more than I, are ignorant. LEONTES You knew of his departure, as you know What you have underta'en to do in's absence. HERMIONE Sir, You speak a language that I understand not: My life stands in the level of your dreams, Which I'll lay down. LEONTES Your actions are my dreams; You had a bastard by Polixenes, And I but dream'd it. As you were past all shame,-- Those of your fact are so--so past all truth: Which to deny concerns more than avails; for as Thy brat hath been cast out, like to itself, No father owning it,--which is, indeed, More criminal in thee than it,--so thou Shalt feel our justice, in whose easiest passage Look for no less than death. HERMIONE Sir, spare your threats: The bug which you would fright me with I seek. To me can life be no commodity: The crown and comfort of my life, your favour, I do give lost; for I do feel it gone, But know not how it went. My second joy And first-fruits of my body, from his presence I am barr'd, like one infectious. My third comfort Starr'd most unluckily, is from my breast, The innocent milk in its most innocent mouth, Haled out to murder: myself on every post Proclaimed a strumpet: with immodest hatred The child-bed privilege denied, which 'longs To women of all fashion; lastly, hurried Here to this place, i' the open air, before I have got strength of limit. Now, my liege, Tell me what blessings I have here alive, That I should fear to die? Therefore proceed. But yet hear this: mistake me not; no life, I prize it not a straw, but for mine honour, Which I would free, if I shall be condemn'd Upon surmises, all proofs sleeping else But what your jealousies awake, I tell you 'Tis rigor and not law. Your honours all, I do refer me to the oracle: Apollo be my judge! First Lord This your request Is altogether just: therefore bring forth, And in Apollos name, his oracle. [Exeunt certain Officers] HERMIONE The Emperor of Russia was my father: O that he were alive, and here beholding His daughter's trial! that he did but see The flatness of my misery, yet with eyes Of pity, not revenge! [Re-enter Officers, with CLEOMENES and DION] Officer You here shall swear upon this sword of justice, That you, Cleomenes and Dion, have Been both at Delphos, and from thence have brought The seal'd-up oracle, by the hand deliver'd Of great Apollo's priest; and that, since then, You have not dared to break the holy seal Nor read the secrets in't. CLEOMENES | | All this we swear. DION | LEONTES Break up the seals and read. Officer [Reads] Hermione is chaste; Polixenes blameless; Camillo a true subject; Leontes a jealous tyrant; his innocent babe truly begotten; and the king shall live without an heir, if that which is lost be not found. Lords Now blessed be the great Apollo! HERMIONE Praised! LEONTES Hast thou read truth? Officer Ay, my lord; even so As it is here set down. LEONTES There is no truth at all i' the oracle: The sessions shall proceed: this is mere falsehood. [Enter Servant] Servant My lord the king, the king! LEONTES What is the business? Servant O sir, I shall be hated to report it! The prince your son, with mere conceit and fear Of the queen's speed, is gone. LEONTES How! gone! Servant Is dead. LEONTES Apollo's angry; and the heavens themselves Do strike at my injustice. [HERMIONE swoons] How now there! PAULINA This news is mortal to the queen: look down And see what death is doing. LEONTES Take her hence: Her heart is but o'ercharged; she will recover: I have too much believed mine own suspicion: Beseech you, tenderly apply to her Some remedies for life. [Exeunt PAULINA and Ladies, with HERMIONE] Apollo, pardon My great profaneness 'gainst thine oracle! I'll reconcile me to Polixenes, New woo my queen, recall the good Camillo, Whom I proclaim a man of truth, of mercy; For, being transported by my jealousies To bloody thoughts and to revenge, I chose Camillo for the minister to poison My friend Polixenes: which had been done, But that the good mind of Camillo tardied My swift command, though I with death and with Reward did threaten and encourage him, Not doing 't and being done: he, most humane And fill'd with honour, to my kingly guest Unclasp'd my practise, quit his fortunes here, Which you knew great, and to the hazard Of all encertainties himself commended, No richer than his honour: how he glisters Thorough my rust! and how his pity Does my deeds make the blacker! [Re-enter PAULINA] PAULINA Woe the while! O, cut my lace, lest my heart, cracking it, Break too. First Lord What fit is this, good lady? PAULINA What studied torments, tyrant, hast for me? What wheels? racks? fires? what flaying? boiling? In leads or oils? what old or newer torture Must I receive, whose every word deserves To taste of thy most worst? Thy tyranny Together working with thy jealousies, Fancies too weak for boys, too green and idle For girls of nine, O, think what they have done And then run mad indeed, stark mad! for all Thy by-gone fooleries were but spices of it. That thou betray'dst Polixenes,'twas nothing; That did but show thee, of a fool, inconstant And damnable ingrateful: nor was't much, Thou wouldst have poison'd good Camillo's honour, To have him kill a king: poor trespasses, More monstrous standing by: whereof I reckon The casting forth to crows thy baby-daughter To be or none or little; though a devil Would have shed water out of fire ere done't: Nor is't directly laid to thee, the death Of the young prince, whose honourable thoughts, Thoughts high for one so tender, cleft the heart That could conceive a gross and foolish sire Blemish'd his gracious dam: this is not, no, Laid to thy answer: but the last,--O lords, When I have said, cry 'woe!' the queen, the queen, The sweet'st, dear'st creature's dead, and vengeance for't Not dropp'd down yet. First Lord The higher powers forbid! PAULINA I say she's dead; I'll swear't. If word nor oath Prevail not, go and see: 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. But, O thou tyrant! Do not repent these things, for they are heavier Than all thy woes can stir; therefore betake thee To nothing but despair. A thousand knees Ten thousand years together, naked, fasting, Upon a barren mountain and still winter In storm perpetual, could not move the gods To look that way thou wert. LEONTES Go on, go on Thou canst not speak too much; I have deserved All tongues to talk their bitterest. First Lord Say no more: Howe'er the business goes, you have made fault I' the boldness of your speech. PAULINA I am sorry for't: All faults I make, when I shall come to know them, I do repent. Alas! I have show'd too much The rashness of a woman: he is touch'd To the noble heart. What's gone and what's past help Should be past grief: do not receive affliction At my petition; I beseech you, rather Let me be punish'd, that have minded you Of what you should forget. Now, good my liege Sir, royal sir, forgive a foolish woman: The love I bore your queen--lo, fool again!-- I'll speak of her no more, nor of your children; I'll not remember you of my own lord, Who is lost too: take your patience to you, And I'll say nothing. LEONTES Thou didst speak but well When most the truth; which I receive much better Than to be pitied of thee. Prithee, bring me To the dead bodies of my queen and son: One grave shall be for both: upon them shall The causes of their death appear, unto Our shame perpetual. Once a day I'll visit The chapel where they lie, and tears shed there Shall be my recreation: so long as nature Will bear up with this exercise, so long I daily vow to use it. Come and lead me Unto these sorrows. [Exeunt] THE WINTER'S TALE ACT III SCENE III Bohemia. A desert country near the sea. [Enter ANTIGONUS with a Child, and a Mariner] ANTIGONUS Thou art perfect then, our ship hath touch'd upon The deserts of Bohemia? Mariner Ay, my lord: and fear We have landed in ill time: the skies look grimly And threaten present blusters. In my conscience, The heavens with that we have in hand are angry And frown upon 's. ANTIGONUS Their sacred wills be done! Go, get aboard; Look to thy bark: I'll not be long before I call upon thee. Mariner Make your best haste, and go not Too far i' the land: 'tis like to be loud weather; Besides, this place is famous for the creatures Of prey that keep upon't. ANTIGONUS Go thou away: I'll follow instantly. Mariner I am glad at heart To be so rid o' the business. [Exit] ANTIGONUS Come, poor babe: I have heard, but not believed, the spirits o' the dead May walk again: if such thing be, thy mother Appear'd to me last night, for ne'er was dream So like a waking. To me comes a creature, Sometimes her head on one side, some another; I never saw a vessel of like sorrow, So fill'd and so becoming: in pure white robes, Like very sanctity, she did approach My cabin where I lay; thrice bow'd before me, And gasping to begin some speech, her eyes Became two spouts: the fury spent, anon Did this break-from her: '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. For this ungentle business Put on thee by my lord, thou ne'er shalt see Thy wife Paulina more.' And so, with shrieks She melted into air. Affrighted much, I did in time collect myself and thought This was so and no slumber. Dreams are toys: Yet for this once, yea, superstitiously, I will be squared by this. 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. Blossom, speed thee well! There lie, and there thy character: there these; Which may, if fortune please, both breed thee, pretty, And still rest thine. The storm begins; poor wretch, That for thy mother's fault art thus exposed To loss and what may follow! Weep I cannot, But my heart bleeds; and most accursed am I To be by oath enjoin'd to this. Farewell! The day frowns more and more: thou'rt like to have A lullaby too rough: I never saw The heavens so dim by day. A savage clamour! Well may I get aboard! This is the chase: I am gone for ever. [Exit, pursued by a bear] [Enter a Shepherd] Shepherd I would there were no age between sixteen 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--Hark you now! Would any but these boiled brains of nineteen and two-and-twenty hunt this weather? They have scared away two of my best sheep, which I fear the wolf will sooner find than the master: if any where I have them, 'tis by the seaside, browsing of ivy. Good luck, an't be thy will what have we here! Mercy on 's, a barne a very pretty barne! A boy or a child, I wonder? A pretty one; a very pretty one: sure, some 'scape: though I am not bookish, yet I can read waiting-gentlewoman in the 'scape. 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. I'll take it up for pity: yet I'll tarry till my son come; he hallooed but even now. Whoa, ho, hoa! [Enter Clown] Clown Hilloa, loa! Shepherd What, art so near? If thou'lt see a thing to talk on when thou art dead and rotten, come hither. What ailest thou, man? Clown I have seen two such sights, by sea and by land! but I am not to say it is a sea, for it is now the sky: betwixt the firmament and it you cannot thrust a bodkin's point. Shepherd Why, boy, how is it? Clown I would you did but see how it chafes, how it rages, how it takes up the shore! but that's not the point. O, the most piteous cry of the poor souls! sometimes to see 'em, and not to see 'em; now the ship boring the moon with her main-mast, and anon swallowed with yest and froth, as you'ld thrust a cork into a hogshead. 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-dragoned it: but, first, how the poor souls roared, and the sea mocked them; and how the poor gentleman roared and the bear mocked him, both roaring louder than the sea or weather. Shepherd Name of mercy, when was this, boy? Clown Now, now: I have not winked since I saw these sights: the men are not yet cold under water, nor the bear half dined on the gentleman: he's at it now. Shepherd Would I had been by, to have helped the old man! Clown I would you had been by the ship side, to have helped her: there your charity would have lacked footing. Shepherd Heavy matters! heavy matters! but look thee here, boy. Now bless thyself: thou mettest with things dying, I with things newborn. 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. So, let's see: it was told me I should be rich by the fairies. This is some changeling: open't. What's within, boy? Clown You're a made old man: if the sins of your youth are forgiven you, you're well to live. Gold! all gold! Shepherd This is fairy gold, boy, and 'twill prove so: up with't, keep it close: home, home, the next way. We are lucky, boy; and to be so still requires nothing but secrecy. Let my sheep go: come, good boy, the next way home. Clown Go you the next way with your findings. I'll go see if the bear be gone from the gentleman and how much he hath eaten: they are never curst but when they are hungry: if there be any of him left, I'll bury it. Shepherd That's a good deed. If thou mayest discern by that which is left of him what he is, fetch me to the sight of him. Clown Marry, will I; and you shall help to put him i' the ground. Shepherd 'Tis a lucky day, boy, and we'll do good deeds on't. [Exeunt] THE WINTER'S TALE ACT IV SCENE I: [Enter Time, the Chorus] Time I, that please some, try all, both joy and terror Of good and bad, that makes and unfolds error, Now take upon me, in the name of Time, To use my wings. Impute it not a crime To me or my swift passage, that I slide O'er sixteen years and leave the growth untried Of that wide gap, since it is in my power To o'erthrow law and in one self-born hour To plant and o'erwhelm custom. Let me pass The same I am, ere ancient'st order was Or what is now received: I witness to The times that brought them in; so shall I do To the freshest things now reigning and make stale The glistering of this present, as my tale Now seems to it. Your patience this allowing, I turn my glass and give my scene such growing As you had slept between: Leontes leaving, The effects of his fond jealousies so grieving That he shuts up himself, imagine me, Gentle spectators, that I now may be In fair Bohemia, and remember well, I mentioned a son o' the king's, which Florizel I now name to you; and with speed so pace To speak of Perdita, now grown in grace Equal with wondering: what of her ensues I list not prophecy; but let Time's news Be known when 'tis brought forth. A shepherd's daughter, And what to her adheres, which follows after, Is the argument of Time. Of this allow, If ever you have spent time worse ere now; If never, yet that Time himself doth say He wishes earnestly you never may. [Exit] THE WINTER'S TALE ACT IV SCENE II Bohemia. The palace of POLIXENES. [Enter POLIXENES and CAMILLO] POLIXENES I pray thee, good Camillo, be no more importunate: 'tis a sickness denying thee any thing; a death to grant this. CAMILLO 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. POLIXENES As thou lovest me, Camillo, wipe not out the rest of thy services by leaving me now: the need I have of thee thine own goodness hath made; better not to have had thee than thus to want thee: thou, having made me businesses which none without thee can sufficiently manage, must either stay to execute them thyself or take away with thee the very services thou hast done; which if I have not enough considered, as too much I cannot, to be more thankful to thee shall be my study, and my profit therein the heaping friendships. Of that fatal country, Sicilia, prithee speak no more; whose very naming punishes me with the remembrance of that penitent, as thou callest him, and reconciled king, my brother; whose loss of his most precious queen and children are even now to be afresh lamented. Say to me, when sawest 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. CAMILLO Sir, it is three days since I saw the prince. What his happier affairs may be, are to me unknown: but I have missingly noted, he is of late much retired from court and is less frequent to his princely exercises than formerly he hath appeared. POLIXENES I have considered so much, Camillo, and with some care; so far that I have eyes under my service which look upon his removedness; from whom I have this intelligence, that he is seldom from the house of a most homely shepherd; a man, they say, that from very nothing, and beyond the imagination of his neighbours, is grown into an unspeakable estate. CAMILLO I have heard, sir, of such a man, who hath a daughter of most rare note: the report of her is extended more than can be thought to begin from such a cottage. POLIXENES 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. Prithee, be my present partner in this business, and lay aside the thoughts of Sicilia. CAMILLO I willingly obey your command. POLIXENES My best Camillo! We must disguise ourselves. [Exeunt] THE WINTER'S TALE ACT IV SCENE III A road near the Shepherd's cottage. [Enter AUTOLYCUS, singing] AUTOLYCUS 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 white sheet bleaching on the hedge, With heigh! the sweet birds, O, how they sing! Doth set my pugging tooth on edge; For a quart of ale is a dish for a king. The lark, that tirra-lyra 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. I have served Prince Florizel and in my time wore three-pile; but now I am out of service: 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. My traffic is sheets; when the kite builds, look to lesser linen. My father named me Autolycus; who being, as I am, littered under Mercury, was likewise a snapper-up of unconsidered trifles. With die and drab I purchased this caparison, and my revenue is the silly cheat. 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. A prize! a prize! [Enter Clown] Clown Let me see: every 'leven wether tods; every tod yields pound and odd shilling; fifteen hundred shorn. what comes the wool to? AUTOLYCUS [Aside] If the springe hold, the cock's mine. Clown I cannot do't without counters. Let me see; what am I to buy for our sheep-shearing feast? Three pound of sugar, five pound of currants, rice,--what will this sister of mine do with rice? But my father hath made her mistress of the feast, and she lays it on. She hath made me four and twenty nose-gays for the shearers, three-man-song-men all, and very good ones; but they are most of them means and bases; but one puritan amongst them, and he sings psalms to horn-pipes. I must have saffron to colour the warden pies; mace; dates?--none, that's out of my note; nutmegs, seven; a race or two of ginger, but that I may beg; four pound of prunes, and as many of raisins o' the sun. AUTOLYCUS O that ever I was born! [Grovelling on the ground] Clown I' the name of me-- AUTOLYCUS O, help me, help me! pluck but off these rags; and then, death, death! Clown Alack, poor soul! thou hast need of more rags to lay on thee, rather than have these off. AUTOLYCUS O sir, the loathsomeness of them offends me more than the stripes I have received, which are mighty ones and millions. Clown Alas, poor man! a million of beating may come to a great matter. AUTOLYCUS I am robbed, sir, and beaten; my money and apparel ta'en from me, and these detestable things put upon me. Clown What, by a horseman, or a footman? AUTOLYCUS A footman, sweet sir, a footman. Clown Indeed, he should be a footman by the garments he has left with thee: if this be a horseman's coat, it hath seen very hot service. Lend me thy hand, I'll help thee: come, lend me thy hand. AUTOLYCUS O, good sir, tenderly, O! Clown Alas, poor soul! AUTOLYCUS O, good sir, softly, good sir! I fear, sir, my shoulder-blade is out. Clown How now! canst stand? AUTOLYCUS [Picking his pocket] Softly, dear sir; good sir, softly. You ha' done me a charitable office. Clown Dost lack any money? I have a little money for thee. AUTOLYCUS No, good sweet sir; no, I beseech you, sir: I have a kinsman not past three quarters of a mile hence, unto whom I was going; I shall there have money, or any thing I want: offer me no money, I pray you; that kills my heart. Clown What manner of fellow was he that robbed you? AUTOLYCUS 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 whipped out of the court. Clown His vices, you would say; there's no virtue whipped out of the court: they cherish it to make it stay there; and yet it will no more but abide. AUTOLYCUS Vices, I would say, sir. I know this man well: he hath been since an ape-bearer; then a process-server, a bailiff; then he compassed a motion of the Prodigal Son, and married a tinker's wife within a mile where my land and living lies; and, having flown over many knavish professions, he settled only in rogue: some call him Autolycus. Clown Out upon him! prig, for my life, prig: he haunts wakes, fairs and bear-baitings. AUTOLYCUS Very true, sir; he, sir, he; that's the rogue that put me into this apparel. Clown Not a more cowardly rogue in all Bohemia: if you had but looked big and spit at him, he'ld have run. AUTOLYCUS I must confess to you, sir, I am no fighter: I am false of heart that way; and that he knew, I warrant him. Clown How do you now? AUTOLYCUS Sweet sir, much better than I was; I can stand and walk: I will even take my leave of you, and pace softly towards my kinsman's. Clown Shall I bring thee on the way? AUTOLYCUS No, good-faced sir; no, sweet sir. Clown Then fare thee well: I must go buy spices for our sheep-shearing. AUTOLYCUS Prosper you, sweet sir! [Exit Clown] Your purse is not hot enough to purchase your spice. I'll be with you at your sheep-shearing too: if I make not this cheat bring out another and the shearers prove sheep, let me be unrolled and my name put in the book of virtue! [Sings] Jog on, jog on, the foot-path way, And merrily hent the stile-a: A merry heart goes all the day, Your sad tires in a mile-a. [Exit] THE WINTER'S TALE ACT IV SCENE IV The Shepherd's cottage. [Enter FLORIZEL and PERDITA] FLORIZEL These your unusual weeds to each part of you Do give a life: no shepherdess, but Flora Peering in April's front. This your sheep-shearing Is as a meeting of the petty gods, And you the queen on't. PERDITA Sir, my gracious lord, To chide at your extremes it not becomes me: O, pardon, that I name them! Your high self, The gracious mark o' the land, you have obscured With a swain's wearing, and me, poor lowly maid, Most goddess-like prank'd up: but that our feasts In every mess have folly and the feeders Digest it with a custom, I should blush To see you so attired, sworn, I think, To show myself a glass. FLORIZEL I bless the time When my good falcon made her flight across Thy father's ground. PERDITA Now Jove afford you cause! To me the difference forges dread; your greatness Hath not been used to fear. Even now I tremble To think your father, by some accident, Should pass this way as you did: O, the Fates! How would he look, to see his work so noble Vilely bound up? What would he say? Or how Should I, in these my borrow'd flaunts, behold The sternness of his presence? FLORIZEL Apprehend Nothing but jollity. The gods themselves, Humbling their deities to love, have taken The shapes of beasts upon them: Jupiter Became a bull, and bellow'd; the green Neptune A ram, and bleated; and the fire-robed god, Golden Apollo, a poor humble swain, As I seem now. Their transformations Were never for a piece of beauty rarer, Nor in a way so chaste, since my desires Run not before mine honour, nor my lusts Burn hotter than my faith. PERDITA O, but, sir, Your resolution cannot hold, when 'tis Opposed, as it must be, by the power of the king: One of these two must be necessities, Which then will speak, that you must change this purpose, Or I my life. FLORIZEL Thou dearest Perdita, With these forced thoughts, I prithee, darken not The mirth o' the feast. Or I'll be thine, my fair, Or not my father's. For I cannot be Mine own, nor any thing to any, if I be not thine. To this I am most constant, Though destiny say no. Be merry, gentle; Strangle such thoughts as these with any thing That you behold the while. Your guests are coming: Lift up your countenance, as it were the day Of celebration of that nuptial which We two have sworn shall come. PERDITA O lady Fortune, Stand you auspicious! FLORIZEL See, your guests approach: Address yourself to entertain them sprightly, And let's be red with mirth. [Enter Shepherd, Clown, MOPSA, DORCAS, and others, with POLIXENES and CAMILLO disguised] Shepherd Fie, daughter! when my old wife lived, upon This day she was both pantler, butler, cook, Both dame and servant; welcomed all, served all; Would sing her song and dance her turn; now here, At upper end o' the table, now i' the middle; On his shoulder, and his; her face o' fire With labour and the thing she took to quench it, She would to each one sip. You are retired, As if you were a feasted one and not The hostess of the meeting: pray you, bid These unknown friends to's welcome; for it is A way to make us better friends, more known. Come, quench your blushes and present yourself That which you are, mistress o' the feast: come on, And bid us welcome to your sheep-shearing, As your good flock shall prosper. PERDITA [To POLIXENES] Sir, welcome: It is my father's will I should take on me The hostess-ship o' the day. [To CAMILLO] You're welcome, sir. Give me those flowers there, Dorcas. Reverend sirs, For you there's rosemary and rue; these keep Seeming and savour all the winter long: Grace and remembrance be to you both, And welcome to our shearing! POLIXENES Shepherdess, A fair one are you--well you fit our ages With flowers of winter. PERDITA Sir, the year growing ancient, Not yet on summer's death, nor on the birth Of trembling winter, the fairest flowers o' the season Are our carnations and streak'd gillyvors, Which some call nature's bastards: of that kind Our rustic garden's barren; and I care not To get slips of them. POLIXENES Wherefore, gentle maiden, Do you neglect them? PERDITA For I have heard it said There is an art which in their piedness shares With great creating nature. POLIXENES Say there be; Yet nature is made better by no mean But nature makes that mean: so, over that art Which you say adds to nature, is an art That nature makes. You see, sweet maid, we marry A gentler scion to the wildest stock, And make conceive a bark of baser kind By bud of nobler race: this is an art Which does mend nature, change it rather, but The art itself is nature. PERDITA So it is. POLIXENES Then make your garden rich in gillyvors, And do not call them bastards. PERDITA I'll not put The dibble in earth to set one slip of them; No more than were I painted I would wish This youth should say 'twere well and only therefore Desire to breed by me. Here's flowers for you; Hot lavender, mints, savoury, marjoram; The marigold, that goes to bed wi' the sun And with him rises weeping: these are flowers Of middle summer, and I think they are given To men of middle age. You're very welcome. CAMILLO I should leave grazing, were I of your flock, And only live by gazing. PERDITA Out, alas! You'd be so lean, that blasts of January Would blow you through and through. Now, my fair'st friend, I would I had some flowers o' the spring that might Become your time of day; and yours, and yours, That wear upon your virgin branches yet Your maidenheads growing: O Proserpina, For 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 Bight Phoebus in his strength--a malady Most incident to maids; bold oxlips and The crown imperial; lilies of all kinds, The flower-de-luce being one! O, these I lack, To make you garlands of, and my sweet friend, To strew him o'er and o'er! FLORIZEL What, like a corse? PERDITA No, like a bank for love to lie and play on; Not like a corse; or if, not to be buried, But quick and in mine arms. Come, take your flowers: Methinks I play as I have seen them do In Whitsun pastorals: sure this robe of mine Does change my disposition. FLORIZEL What you do Still betters what is done. When you speak, sweet. I'ld have you do it ever: when you sing, I'ld have you buy and sell so, so give alms, Pray so; and, for the ordering your affairs, To sing them too: when you do dance, I wish you A wave o' the sea, that you might ever do Nothing but that; move still, still so, And own no other function: each your doing, So singular in each particular, Crowns what you are doing in the present deed, That all your acts are queens. PERDITA O Doricles, Your praises are too large: but that your youth, And the true blood which peepeth 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. FLORIZEL I think you have As little skill to fear as I have purpose To put you to't. But come; our dance, I pray: Your hand, my Perdita: so turtles pair, That never mean to part. PERDITA I'll swear for 'em. POLIXENES This is the prettiest low-born lass that ever Ran on the green-sward: nothing she does or seems But smacks of something greater than herself, Too noble for this place. CAMILLO He tells her something That makes her blood look out: good sooth, she is The queen of curds and cream. Clown Come on, strike up! DORCAS Mopsa must be your mistress: marry, garlic, To mend her kissing with! MOPSA Now, in good time! Clown Not a word, a word; we stand upon our manners. Come, strike up! [Music. Here a dance of Shepherds and Shepherdesses] POLIXENES Pray, good shepherd, what fair swain is this Which dances with your daughter? Shepherd They call him Doricles; and boasts himself To have a worthy feeding: but I have it Upon his own report and I believe it; He looks like sooth. He says he loves my daughter: I think so too; for never gazed 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. POLIXENES She dances featly. Shepherd So she does any thing; though I report it, That should be silent: if young Doricles Do light upon her, she shall bring him that Which he not dreams of. [Enter Servant] Servant O master, if you did but hear the pedlar at the door, you would never dance again after a tabour and pipe; no, the bagpipe could not move you: he sings several tunes faster than you'll tell money; he utters them as he had eaten ballads and all men's ears grew to his tunes. Clown He could never come better; he shall come in. I love a ballad but even too well, if it be doleful matter merrily set down, or a very pleasant thing indeed and sung lamentably. Servant He hath songs for man or woman, of all sizes; no milliner can so fit his customers with gloves: he has the prettiest love-songs for maids; so without bawdry, which is strange; with such delicate burthens of dildos and fadings, 'jump her and thump her;' and where some stretch-mouthed rascal would, as it were, mean mischief and break a foul gap into the matter, he makes the maid to answer 'Whoop, do me no harm, good man;' puts him off, slights him, with 'Whoop, do me no harm, good man.' POLIXENES This is a brave fellow. Clown Believe me, thou talkest of an admirable conceited fellow. Has he any unbraided wares? Servant He hath ribbons of an the colours i' the rainbow; points more than all the lawyers in Bohemia can learnedly handle, though they come to him by the gross: inkles, caddisses, cambrics, lawns: why, he sings 'em over as they were gods or goddesses; you would think a smock were a she-angel, he so chants to the sleeve-hand and the work about the square on't. Clown Prithee bring him in; and let him approach singing. PERDITA Forewarn him that he use no scurrilous words in 's tunes. [Exit Servant] Clown You have of these pedlars, that have more in them than you'ld think, sister. PERDITA Ay, good brother, or go about to think. [Enter AUTOLYCUS, singing] AUTOLYCUS Lawn as white as driven snow; Cyprus black as e'er was crow; Gloves as sweet as damask roses; Masks for faces and for noses; Bugle bracelet, necklace amber, Perfume for a lady's chamber; Golden quoifs and stomachers, For my lads to give their dears: Pins and poking-sticks of steel, What maids lack from head to heel: Come buy of me, come; come buy, come buy; Buy lads, or else your lasses cry: Come buy. Clown If I were not in love with Mopsa, thou shouldst take no money of me; but being enthralled as I am, it will also be the bondage of certain ribbons and gloves. MOPSA I was promised them against the feast; but they come not too late now. DORCAS He hath promised you more than that, or there be liars. MOPSA He hath paid you all he promised you; may be, he has paid you more, which will shame you to give him again. Clown 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 whispering: clamour your tongues, and not a word more. MOPSA I have done. Come, you promised me a tawdry-lace and a pair of sweet gloves. Clown Have I not told thee how I was cozened by the way and lost all my money? AUTOLYCUS And indeed, sir, there are cozeners abroad; therefore it behoves men to be wary. Clown Fear not thou, man, thou shalt lose nothing here. AUTOLYCUS I hope so, sir; for I have about me many parcels of charge. Clown What hast here? ballads? MOPSA Pray now, buy some: I love a ballad in print o' life, for then we are sure they are true. AUTOLYCUS Here's one to a very doleful tune, how a usurer's wife was brought to bed of twenty money-bags at a burthen and how she longed to eat adders' heads and toads carbonadoed. MOPSA Is it true, think you? AUTOLYCUS Very true, and but a month old. DORCAS Bless me from marrying a usurer! AUTOLYCUS Here's the midwife's name to't, one Mistress Tale-porter, and five or six honest wives that were present. Why should I carry lies abroad? MOPSA Pray you now, buy it. Clown Come on, lay it by: and let's first see moe ballads; we'll buy the other things anon. AUTOLYCUS Here's another ballad of a fish, that appeared upon the coast on Wednesday the four-score of April, forty thousand fathom above water, and sung this ballad against the hard hearts of maids: it was thought she was a woman and was turned into a cold fish for she would not exchange flesh with one that loved her: the ballad is very pitiful and as true. DORCAS Is it true too, think you? AUTOLYCUS Five justices' hands at it, and witnesses more than my pack will hold. Clown Lay it by too: another. AUTOLYCUS This is a merry ballad, but a very pretty one. MOPSA Let's have some merry ones. AUTOLYCUS Why, this is a passing merry one and goes to the tune of 'Two maids wooing a man:' there's scarce a maid westward but she sings it; 'tis in request, I can tell you. MOPSA We can both sing it: if thou'lt bear a part, thou shalt hear; 'tis in three parts. DORCAS We had the tune on't a month ago. AUTOLYCUS I can bear my part; you must know 'tis my occupation; have at it with you. [SONG] AUTOLYCUS Get you hence, for I must go Where it fits not you to know. DORCAS Whither? MOPSA O, whither? DORCAS Whither? MOPSA It becomes thy oath full well, Thou to me thy secrets tell. DORCAS Me too, let me go thither. MOPSA Or thou goest to the orange or mill. DORCAS If to either, thou dost ill. AUTOLYCUS Neither. DORCAS What, neither? AUTOLYCUS Neither. DORCAS Thou hast sworn my love to be. MOPSA Thou hast sworn it more to me: Then whither goest? say, whither? Clown We'll have this song out anon by ourselves: my father and the gentlemen are in sad talk, and we'll not trouble them. Come, bring away thy pack after me. Wenches, I'll buy for you both. Pedlar, let's have the first choice. Follow me, girls. [Exit with DORCAS and MOPSA] AUTOLYCUS And you shall pay well for 'em. [Follows singing] Will you buy any tape, Or lace for your cape, My dainty duck, my dear-a? Any silk, any thread, Any toys for your head, Of the new'st and finest, finest wear-a? Come to the pedlar; Money's a medler. That doth utter all men's ware-a. [Exit] [Re-enter Servant] Servant Master, there is three carters, three shepherds, three neat-herds, three swine-herds, that have made themselves all men of hair, they call themselves Saltiers, and they have a dance which the wenches say is a gallimaufry of gambols, because they are not in't; but they themselves are o' the mind, if it be not too rough for some that know little but bowling, it will please plentifully. Shepherd Away! we'll none on 't: here has been too much homely foolery already. I know, sir, we weary you. POLIXENES You weary those that refresh us: pray, let's see these four threes of herdsmen. Servant One three of them, by their own report, sir, hath danced before the king; and not the worst of the three but jumps twelve foot and a half by the squier. Shepherd Leave your prating: since these good men are pleased, let them come in; but quickly now. Servant Why, they stay at door, sir. [Exit] [Here a dance of twelve Satyrs] POLIXENES O, father, you'll know more of that hereafter. [To CAMILLO] Is it not too far gone? 'Tis time to part them. He's simple and tells much. [To FLORIZEL] How now, fair shepherd! Your heart is full of something that does take Your mind from feasting. Sooth, when I was young And handed love as you do, I was wont To load my she with knacks: I would have ransack'd The pedlar's silken treasury and have pour'd it To her acceptance; you have let him go And nothing marted with him. If your lass Interpretation should abuse and call this Your lack of love or bounty, you were straited For a reply, at least if you make a care Of happy holding her. FLORIZEL Old sir, I know She prizes not such trifles as these are: The gifts she looks from me are pack'd and lock'd Up in my heart; which I have given already, But not deliver'd. O, hear me breathe my life Before this ancient sir, who, it should seem, Hath sometime loved! 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 the northern blasts twice o'er. POLIXENES What follows this? How prettily the young swain seems to wash The hand was fair before! I have put you out: But to your protestation; let me hear What you profess. FLORIZEL Do, and be witness to 't. POLIXENES And this my neighbour too? FLORIZEL And he, and more Than he, and men, the earth, the heavens, and all: 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. POLIXENES Fairly offer'd. CAMILLO This shows a sound affection. Shepherd But, my daughter, Say you the like to him? PERDITA I cannot speak So well, nothing so well; no, nor mean better: By the pattern of mine own thoughts I cut out The purity of his. Shepherd Take hands, a bargain! And, friends unknown, you shall bear witness to 't: I give my daughter to him, and will make Her portion equal his. FLORIZEL O, that must be I' the virtue of your daughter: one being dead, I shall have more than you can dream of yet; Enough then for your wonder. But, come on, Contract us 'fore these witnesses. Shepherd Come, your hand; And, daughter, yours. POLIXENES Soft, swain, awhile, beseech you; Have you a father? FLORIZEL I have: but what of him? POLIXENES Knows he of this? FLORIZEL He neither does nor shall. POLIXENES Methinks a father Is at the nuptial of his son a guest That best becomes the table. Pray you once more, Is not your father grown incapable Of reasonable affairs? is he not stupid With age and altering rheums? can he speak? hear? Know man from man? dispute his own estate? Lies he not bed-rid? and again does nothing But what he did being childish? FLORIZEL No, good sir; He has his health and ampler strength indeed Than most have of his age. POLIXENES By my white beard, You offer him, if this be so, a wrong Something unfilial: reason my son Should choose himself a wife, but as good reason The father, all whose joy is nothing else But fair posterity, should hold some counsel In such a business. FLORIZEL 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. POLIXENES Let him know't. FLORIZEL He shall not. POLIXENES Prithee, let him. FLORIZEL No, he must not. Shepherd Let him, my son: he shall not need to grieve At knowing of thy choice. FLORIZEL Come, come, he must not. Mark our contract. POLIXENES Mark your divorce, young sir, [Discovering himself] Whom son I dare not call; thou art too base To be acknowledged: thou a sceptre's heir, That thus affect'st a sheep-hook! Thou old traitor, I am sorry that by hanging thee I can But shorten thy life one week. And thou, fresh piece Of excellent witchcraft, who of force must know The royal fool thou copest with,-- Shepherd O, my heart! POLIXENES I'll have thy beauty scratch'd with briers, and made More homely than thy state. For thee, fond boy, If I may ever know thou dost but sigh That thou no more shalt see this knack, as never I mean thou shalt, we'll bar thee from succession; Not hold thee of our blood, no, not our kin, Far than Deucalion off: mark thou my words: Follow us to the court. Thou churl, for this time, Though full of our displeasure, yet we free thee From the dead blow of it. And you, enchantment.-- Worthy enough a herdsman: yea, him too, That makes himself, but for our honour therein, Unworthy thee,--if ever henceforth thou These rural latches to his entrance open, Or hoop his body more with thy embraces, I will devise a death as cruel for thee As thou art tender to't. [Exit] PERDITA Even here undone! I was not much afeard; for once or twice I was about to speak and tell him plainly, The selfsame sun that shines upon his court Hides not his visage from our cottage but Looks on alike. Will't please you, sir, be gone? I told you what would come of this: beseech you, Of your own state take care: this dream of mine,-- Being now awake, I'll queen it no inch farther, But milk my ewes and weep. CAMILLO Why, how now, father! Speak ere thou diest. Shepherd I cannot speak, nor think Nor dare to know that which I know. O sir! You have undone a man of fourscore three, That thought to fill his grave in quiet, yea, To die upon the bed my father died, To lie close by his honest bones: but now Some hangman must put on my shroud and lay me Where no priest shovels in dust. O cursed wretch, That knew'st this was the prince, and wouldst adventure To mingle faith with him! Undone! undone! If I might die within this hour, I have lived To die when I desire. [Exit] FLORIZEL Why look you so upon me? I am but sorry, not afeard; delay'd, But nothing alter'd: what I was, I am; More straining on for plucking back, not following My leash unwillingly. CAMILLO Gracious my lord, You know your father's temper: at this time He will allow no speech, which I do guess You do not purpose to him; and as hardly Will he endure your sight as yet, I fear: Then, till the fury of his highness settle, Come not before him. FLORIZEL I not purpose it. I think, Camillo? CAMILLO Even he, my lord. PERDITA How often have I told you 'twould be thus! How often said, my dignity would last But till 'twere known! FLORIZEL It cannot fail but by The violation of my faith; and then Let nature crush the sides o' the earth together And mar the seeds within! Lift up thy looks: From my succession wipe me, father; I Am heir to my affection. CAMILLO Be advised. FLORIZEL I am, and by my fancy: if my reason Will thereto be obedient, I have reason; If not, my senses, better pleased with madness, Do bid it welcome. CAMILLO This is desperate, sir. FLORIZEL So call it: but it does fulfil my vow; I needs must think it honesty. Camillo, Not for Bohemia, nor the pomp that may Be thereat glean'd, for all the sun sees or The close earth wombs or the profound sea hides In unknown fathoms, will I break my oath To this my fair beloved: therefore, I pray you, As you have ever been my father's honour'd friend, When he shall miss me,--as, in faith, I mean not To see him any more,--cast your good counsels Upon his passion; let myself and fortune Tug for the time to come. This you may know And so deliver, I am put to sea With her whom here I cannot hold on shore; And most opportune to our need I have A vessel rides fast by, but not prepared For this design. What course I mean to hold Shall nothing benefit your knowledge, nor Concern me the reporting. CAMILLO O my lord! I would your spirit were easier for advice, Or stronger for your need. FLORIZEL Hark, Perdita [Drawing her aside] I'll hear you by and by. CAMILLO He's irremoveable, Resolved for flight. Now were I happy, if His going I could frame to serve my turn, Save him from danger, do him love and honour, Purchase the sight again of dear Sicilia And that unhappy king, my master, whom I so much thirst to see. FLORIZEL Now, good Camillo; I am so fraught with curious business that I leave out ceremony. CAMILLO Sir, I think You have heard of my poor services, i' the love That I have borne your father? FLORIZEL Very nobly Have you deserved: it is my father's music To speak your deeds, not little of his care To have them recompensed as thought on. CAMILLO Well, my lord, If you may please to think I love the king And through him what is nearest to him, which is Your gracious self, embrace but my direction: If your more ponderous and settled project May suffer alteration, on mine honour, I'll point you where you shall have such receiving As shall become your highness; where you may Enjoy your mistress, from the whom, I see, There's no disjunction to be made, but by-- As heavens forefend!--your ruin; marry her, And, with my best endeavours in your absence, Your discontenting father strive to qualify And bring him up to liking. FLORIZEL How, Camillo, May this, almost a miracle, be done? That I may call thee something more than man And after that trust to thee. CAMILLO Have you thought on A place whereto you'll go? FLORIZEL Not any yet: But as the unthought-on accident is guilty To what we wildly do, so we profess Ourselves to be the slaves of chance and flies Of every wind that blows. CAMILLO Then list to me: This follows, if you will not change your purpose But undergo this flight, make for Sicilia, And there present yourself and your fair princess, For so I see she must be, 'fore Leontes: She shall be habited as it becomes The partner of your bed. Methinks I see Leontes opening his free arms and weeping His welcomes forth; asks thee the son forgiveness, As 'twere i' the father's person; kisses the hands Of your fresh princess; o'er and o'er divides him 'Twixt his unkindness and his kindness; the one He chides to hell and bids the other grow Faster than thought or time. FLORIZEL Worthy Camillo, What colour for my visitation shall I Hold up before him? CAMILLO Sent by the king your father To greet him and to give him comforts. Sir, The manner of your bearing towards him, with What you as from your father shall deliver, Things known betwixt us three, I'll write you down: The which shall point you forth at every sitting What you must say; that he shall not perceive But that you have your father's bosom there And speak his very heart. FLORIZEL I am bound to you: There is some sap in this. CAMILLO A cause more promising Than a wild dedication of yourselves To unpath'd waters, undream'd shores, most certain To miseries enough; no hope to help you, But as you shake off one to take another; Nothing so certain as your anchors, who Do their best office, if they can but stay you Where you'll be loath to be: besides you know Prosperity's the very bond of love, Whose fresh complexion and whose heart together Affliction alters. PERDITA One of these is true: I think affliction may subdue the cheek, But not take in the mind. CAMILLO Yea, say you so? There shall not at your father's house these seven years Be born another such. FLORIZEL My good Camillo, She is as forward of her breeding as She is i' the rear our birth. CAMILLO I cannot say 'tis pity She lacks instructions, for she seems a mistress To most that teach. PERDITA Your pardon, sir; for this I'll blush you thanks. FLORIZEL My prettiest Perdita! But O, the thorns we stand upon! Camillo, Preserver of my father, now of me, The medicine of our house, how shall we do? We are not furnish'd like Bohemia's son, Nor shall appear in Sicilia. CAMILLO My lord, Fear none of this: I think you know my fortunes Do all lie there: it shall be so my care To have you royally appointed as if The scene you play were mine. For instance, sir, That you may know you shall not want, one word. [They talk aside] [Re-enter AUTOLYCUS] AUTOLYCUS Ha, ha! what a fool Honesty is! and Trust, his sworn brother, a very simple gentleman! I have sold all my trumpery; not a counterfeit stone, not a ribbon, glass, pomander, brooch, table-book, ballad, knife, tape, glove, shoe-tie, bracelet, horn-ring, to keep my pack from fasting: they throng who should buy first, as if my trinkets had been hallowed and brought a benediction to the buyer: by which means I saw whose purse was best in picture; and what I saw, to my good use I remembered. 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: you might have pinched a placket, it was senseless; 'twas nothing to geld a codpiece of a purse; I could have filed keys off that hung in chains: no hearing, no feeling, but my sir's song, and admiring the nothing of it. So that in this time of lethargy I picked and cut most of their festival purses; and had not the old man come in with a whoo-bub against his daughter and the king's son and scared my choughs from the chaff, I had not left a purse alive in the whole army. [CAMILLO, FLORIZEL, and PERDITA come forward] CAMILLO Nay, but my letters, by this means being there So soon as you arrive, shall clear that doubt. FLORIZEL And those that you'll procure from King Leontes-- CAMILLO Shall satisfy your father. PERDITA Happy be you! All that you speak shows fair. CAMILLO Who have we here? [Seeing AUTOLYCUS] We'll make an instrument of this, omit Nothing may give us aid. AUTOLYCUS If they have overheard me now, why, hanging. CAMILLO How now, good fellow! why shakest thou so? Fear not, man; here's no harm intended to thee. AUTOLYCUS I am a poor fellow, sir. CAMILLO Why, be so still; here's nobody will steal that from thee: yet for the outside of thy poverty we must make an exchange; therefore discase thee instantly, --thou must think there's a necessity in't,--and change garments with this gentleman: though the pennyworth on his side be the worst, yet hold thee, there's some boot. AUTOLYCUS I am a poor fellow, sir. [Aside] I know ye well enough. CAMILLO Nay, prithee, dispatch: the gentleman is half flayed already. AUTOLYCUS Are you in earnest, sir? [Aside] I smell the trick on't. FLORIZEL Dispatch, I prithee. AUTOLYCUS Indeed, I have had earnest: but I cannot with conscience take it. CAMILLO Unbuckle, unbuckle. [FLORIZEL and AUTOLYCUS exchange garments] Fortunate mistress,--let my prophecy Come home to ye!--you must retire yourself Into some covert: take your sweetheart's hat And pluck it o'er your brows, muffle your face, Dismantle you, and, as you can, disliken The truth of your own seeming; that you may-- For I do fear eyes over--to shipboard Get undescried. PERDITA I see the play so lies That I must bear a part. CAMILLO No remedy. Have you done there? FLORIZEL Should I now meet my father, He would not call me son. CAMILLO Nay, you shall have no hat. [Giving it to PERDITA] Come, lady, come. Farewell, my friend. AUTOLYCUS Adieu, sir. FLORIZEL O Perdita, what have we twain forgot! Pray you, a word. CAMILLO [Aside] What I do next, shall be to tell the king Of this escape and whither they are bound; Wherein my hope is I shall so prevail To force him after: in whose company I shall review Sicilia, for whose sight I have a woman's longing. FLORIZEL Fortune speed us! Thus we set on, Camillo, to the sea-side. CAMILLO The swifter speed the better. [Exeunt FLORIZEL, PERDITA, and CAMILLO] AUTOLYCUS I understand the business, I hear it: 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 the other senses. I see this is the time that the unjust man doth thrive. What an exchange had this been without boot! What a boot is here with this exchange! Sure the gods do this year connive at us, and we may do any thing extempore. The prince himself is about a piece of iniquity, stealing away from his father with his clog at his heels: if I thought it were a piece of honesty to acquaint the king withal, I would not do't: I hold it the more knavery to conceal it; and therein am I constant to my profession. [Re-enter Clown and Shepherd] Aside, aside; here is more matter for a hot brain: every lane's end, every shop, church, session, hanging, yields a careful man work. Clown See, see; what a man you are now! There is no other way but to tell the king she's a changeling and none of your flesh and blood. Shepherd Nay, but hear me. Clown Nay, but hear me. Shepherd Go to, then. Clown She being none of your flesh and blood, your flesh and blood has not offended the king; and so your flesh and blood is not to be punished by him. Show those things you found about her, those secret things, all but what she has with her: this being done, let the law go whistle: I warrant you. Shepherd 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. Clown Indeed, brother-in-law was the farthest off you could have been to him and then your blood had been the dearer by I know how much an ounce. AUTOLYCUS [Aside] Very wisely, puppies! Shepherd Well, let us to the king: there is that in this fardel will make him scratch his beard. AUTOLYCUS [Aside] I know not what impediment this complaint may be to the flight of my master. Clown Pray heartily he be at palace. AUTOLYCUS [Aside] Though I am not naturally honest, I am so sometimes by chance: let me pocket up my pedlar's excrement. [Takes off his false beard] How now, rustics! whither are you bound? Shepherd To the palace, an it like your worship. AUTOLYCUS Your affairs there, what, with whom, the condition of that fardel, the place of your dwelling, your names, your ages, of what having, breeding, and any thing that is fitting to be known, discover. Clown We are but plain fellows, sir. AUTOLYCUS A lie; you are rough and hairy. 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. Clown Your worship had like to have given us one, if you had not taken yourself with the manner. Shepherd Are you a courtier, an't like you, sir? AUTOLYCUS Whether it like me or no, I am a courtier. 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-odor from me? reflect I not on thy baseness court-contempt? Thinkest thou, for that I insinuate, or 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 thee to open thy affair. Shepherd My business, sir, is to the king. AUTOLYCUS What advocate hast thou to him? Shepherd I know not, an't like you. Clown Advocate's the court-word for a pheasant: say you have none. Shepherd None, sir; I have no pheasant, cock nor hen. AUTOLYCUS How blessed are we that are not simple men! Yet nature might have made me as these are, Therefore I will not disdain. Clown This cannot be but a great courtier. Shepherd His garments are rich, but he wears them not handsomely. Clown He seems to be the more noble in being fantastical: a great man, I'll warrant; I know by the picking on's teeth. AUTOLYCUS The fardel there? what's i' the fardel? Wherefore that box? Shepherd Sir, there lies such secrets in this fardel and box, which none must know but the king; and which he shall know within this hour, if I may come to the speech of him. AUTOLYCUS Age, thou hast lost thy labour. Shepherd Why, sir? AUTOLYCUS The king is not at the palace; he is gone aboard a new ship to purge melancholy and air himself: for, if thou beest capable of things serious, thou must know the king is full of grief. Shepard So 'tis said, sir; about his son, that should have married a shepherd's daughter. AUTOLYCUS 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. Clown Think you so, sir? AUTOLYCUS Not he alone shall suffer what wit can make heavy and vengeance bitter; but those that are germane to him, though removed fifty times, shall all come under the hangman: which though it be great pity, yet it is necessary. An old sheep-whistling rogue a ram-tender, to offer to have his daughter come into grace! Some say he shall be stoned; but that death is too soft for him, say I draw our throne into a sheep-cote! all deaths are too few, the sharpest too easy. Clown Has the old man e'er a son, sir, do you hear. an't like you, sir? AUTOLYCUS He has a son, who shall be flayed alive; then 'nointed over with honey, set on the head of a wasp's nest; then stand till he be three quarters and a dram dead; then recovered again with aqua-vitae or some other hot infusion; then, raw as he is, and in the hottest day prognostication proclaims, shall be be set against a brick-wall, the sun looking with a southward eye upon him, where he is to behold him with flies blown to death. But what talk we of these traitorly rascals, whose miseries are to be smiled at, their offences being so capital? Tell me, for you seem to be honest plain men, what you have to the king: being something gently considered, I'll bring you where he is aboard, tender your persons to his presence, whisper him in your behalfs; and if it be in man besides the king to effect your suits, here is man shall do it. Clown He seems to be of great authority: close with him, give him gold; and though authority be a stubborn bear, yet he is oft led by the nose with gold: show the inside of your purse to the outside of his hand, and no more ado. Remember 'stoned,' and 'flayed alive.' Shepherd An't please you, sir, to undertake the business for us, here is that gold I have: I'll make it as much more and leave this young man in pawn till I bring it you. AUTOLYCUS After I have done what I promised? Shepherd Ay, sir. AUTOLYCUS Well, give me the moiety. Are you a party in this business? Clown In some sort, sir: but though my case be a pitiful one, I hope I shall not be flayed out of it. AUTOLYCUS O, that's the case of the shepherd's son: hang him, he'll be made an example. Clown Comfort, good comfort! We must to the king and show our strange sights: he must know 'tis none of your daughter nor my sister; we are gone else. Sir, I will give you as much as this old man does when the business is performed, and remain, as he says, your pawn till it be brought you. AUTOLYCUS I will trust you. Walk before toward the sea-side; go on the right hand: I will but look upon the hedge and follow you. Clown We are blest in this man, as I may say, even blest. Shepherd Let's before as he bids us: he was provided to do us good. [Exeunt Shepherd and Clown] AUTOLYCUS If I had a mind to be honest, I see Fortune would not suffer me: she drops booties in my mouth. 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: if he think it fit to shore them again and that the complaint they have to the king concerns him nothing, let him call me rogue for being so far officious; for I am proof against that title and what shame else belongs to't. To him will I present them: there may be matter in it. [Exit] THE WINTER'S TALE ACT V SCENE I A room in LEONTES' palace. [Enter LEONTES, CLEOMENES, DION, PAULINA, and Servants] CLEOMENES Sir, you have done enough, and have perform'd A saint-like sorrow: no fault could you make, Which you have not redeem'd; indeed, paid down More penitence than done trespass: at the last, Do as the heavens have done, forget your evil; With them forgive yourself. LEONTES Whilst I remember Her and her virtues, I cannot forget My blemishes in them, and so still think of The wrong I did myself; which was so much, That heirless it hath made my kingdom and Destroy'd the sweet'st companion that e'er man Bred his hopes out of. PAULINA True, too true, my lord: If, one by one, you wedded all the world, Or from the all that are took something good, To make a perfect woman, she you kill'd Would be unparallel'd. LEONTES I think so. Kill'd! She I kill'd! I did so: but thou strikest me Sorely, to say I did; it is as bitter Upon thy tongue as in my thought: now, good now, Say so but seldom. CLEOMENES Not at all, good lady: You might have spoken a thousand things that would Have done the time more benefit and graced Your kindness better. PAULINA You are one of those Would have him wed again. DION If you would not so, You pity not the state, nor the remembrance Of his most sovereign name; consider little What dangers, by his highness' fail of issue, May drop upon his kingdom and devour Incertain lookers on. What were more holy Than to rejoice the former queen is well? What holier than, for royalty's repair, For present comfort and for future good, To bless the bed of majesty again With a sweet fellow to't? PAULINA There is none worthy, Respecting her that's gone. Besides, the gods Will have fulfill'd their secret purposes; For has not the divine Apollo said, Is't not the tenor 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. [To LEONTES] Care not for issue; The crown will find an heir: great Alexander Left his to the worthiest; so his successor Was like to be the best. LEONTES Good Paulina, Who hast the memory of Hermione, I know, in honour, O, that ever I Had squared me to thy counsel! then, even now, I might have look'd upon my queen's full eyes, Have taken treasure from her lips-- PAULINA And left them More rich for what they yielded. LEONTES Thou speak'st truth. No more such wives; therefore, no wife: one worse, And better used, would make her sainted spirit Again possess her corpse, and on this stage, Where we're offenders now, appear soul-vex'd, And begin, 'Why to me?' PAULINA Had she such power, She had just cause. LEONTES She had; and would incense me To murder her I married. PAULINA I should so. Were I the ghost that walk'd, I'ld bid you mark Her eye, and tell me for what dull part in't You chose her; then I'ld shriek, that even your ears Should rift to hear me; and the words that follow'd Should be 'Remember mine.' LEONTES Stars, stars, And all eyes else dead coals! Fear thou no wife; I'll have no wife, Paulina. PAULINA Will you swear Never to marry but by my free leave? LEONTES Never, Paulina; so be blest my spirit! PAULINA Then, good my lords, bear witness to his oath. CLEOMENES You tempt him over-much. PAULINA Unless another, As like Hermione as is her picture, Affront his eye. CLEOMENES Good madam,-- PAULINA I have done. Yet, if my lord will marry,--if you will, sir, No remedy, but you will,--give me the office To choose you a queen: she shall not be so young As was your former; but she shall be such As, walk'd your first queen's ghost, it should take joy To see her in your arms. LEONTES My true Paulina, We shall not marry till thou bid'st us. PAULINA That Shall be when your first queen's again in breath; Never till then. [Enter a Gentleman] Gentleman One that gives out himself Prince Florizel, Son of Polixenes, with his princess, she The fairest I have yet beheld, desires access To your high presence. LEONTES What with him? he comes not Like to his father's greatness: his approach, So out of circumstance and sudden, tells us 'Tis not a visitation framed, but forced By need and accident. What train? Gentleman But few, And those but mean. LEONTES His princess, say you, with him? Gentleman Ay, the most peerless piece of earth, I think, That e'er the sun shone bright on. PAULINA 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, 'She had not been, Nor was not to be equall'd;'--thus your verse Flow'd with her beauty once: 'tis shrewdly ebb'd, To say you have seen a better. Gentleman Pardon, madam: The one I have almost forgot,--your pardon,-- The other, when she has obtain'd your eye, Will have your tongue too. This is a creature, Would she begin a sect, might quench the zeal Of all professors else, make proselytes Of who she but bid follow. PAULINA How! not women? Gentleman Women will love her, that she is a woman More worth than any man; men, that she is The rarest of all women. LEONTES Go, Cleomenes; Yourself, assisted with your honour'd friends, Bring them to our embracement. Still, 'tis strange [Exeunt CLEOMENES and others] He thus should steal upon us. PAULINA 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. LEONTES Prithee, no more; cease; thou know'st He dies to me again when talk'd of: sure, When I shall see this gentleman, thy speeches Will bring me to consider that which may Unfurnish me of reason. They are come. [Re-enter CLEOMENES and others, with FLORIZEL and PERDITA] Your mother was most true to wedlock, prince; For she did print your royal father off, Conceiving you: were I but twenty-one, Your father's image is so hit in you, His very air, that I should call you brother, As I did him, and speak of something wildly By us perform'd before. Most dearly welcome! And your fair princess,--goddess!--O, alas! I lost a couple, that 'twixt heaven and earth Might thus have stood begetting wonder as You, gracious couple, do: and then I lost-- All mine own folly--the society, Amity too, of your brave father, whom, Though bearing misery, I desire my life Once more to look on him. FLORIZEL 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 seized His wish'd ability, he had himself The lands and waters 'twixt your throne and his Measured to look upon you; whom he loves-- He bade me say so--more than all the sceptres And those that bear them living. LEONTES 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 the earth. And hath he too Exposed this paragon to the fearful usage, At least ungentle, of the dreadful Neptune, To greet a man not worth her pains, much less The adventure of her person? FLORIZEL Good my lord, She came from Libya. LEONTES Where the warlike Smalus, That noble honour'd lord, is fear'd and loved? FLORIZEL Most royal sir, from thence; from him, whose daughter His tears proclaim'd his, parting with her: thence, A prosperous south-wind friendly, we have cross'd, To execute the charge my father gave me For visiting your highness: my best train I have from your Sicilian shores dismiss'd; Who for Bohemia bend, to signify Not only my success in Libya, sir, But my arrival and my wife's in safety Here where we are. LEONTES The blessed gods Purge all infection from our air whilst you Do climate here! You have a holy father, A graceful gentleman; against whose person, So sacred as it is, I have done sin: For which the heavens, taking angry note, Have left me issueless; and your father's blest, As he from heaven merits it, with you Worthy his goodness. What might I have been, Might I a son and daughter now have look'd on, Such goodly things as you! [Enter a Lord] Lord Most noble sir, That which I shall report will bear no credit, Were not the proof so nigh. Please you, great sir, Bohemia greets you from himself by me; Desires you to attach his son, who has-- His dignity and duty both cast off-- Fled from his father, from his hopes, and with A shepherd's daughter. LEONTES Where's Bohemia? speak. Lord Here in your city; I now came from him: I speak amazedly; and it becomes My marvel and my message. To your court Whiles he was hastening, in the chase, it seems, Of this fair couple, meets he on the way The father of this seeming lady and Her brother, having both their country quitted With this young prince. FLORIZEL Camillo has betray'd me; Whose honour and whose honesty till now Endured all weathers. Lord Lay't so to his charge: He's with the king your father. LEONTES Who? Camillo? Lord Camillo, sir; I spake with him; who now Has these poor men in question. Never saw I Wretches so quake: they kneel, they kiss the earth; Forswear themselves as often as they speak: Bohemia stops his ears, and threatens them With divers deaths in death. PERDITA O my poor father! The heaven sets spies upon us, will not have Our contract celebrated. LEONTES You are married? FLORIZEL We are not, sir, nor are we like to be; The stars, I see, will kiss the valleys first: The odds for high and low's alike. LEONTES My lord, Is this the daughter of a king? FLORIZEL She is, When once she is my wife. LEONTES That 'once' I see by your good father's speed Will come on very slowly. I am sorry, Most sorry, you have broken from his liking Where you were tied in duty, and as sorry Your choice is not so rich in worth as beauty, That you might well enjoy her. FLORIZEL Dear, look up: Though Fortune, visible an enemy, Should chase us with my father, power no jot Hath she to change our loves. Beseech you, sir, Remember since you owed no more to time Than I do now: with thought of such affections, Step forth mine advocate; at your request My father will grant precious things as trifles. LEONTES Would he do so, I'ld beg your precious mistress, Which he counts but a trifle. PAULINA Sir, my liege, Your eye hath too much youth in't: not a month 'Fore your queen died, she was more worth such gazes Than what you look on now. LEONTES I thought of her, Even in these looks I made. [To FLORIZEL] But your petition Is yet unanswer'd. I will to your father: Your honour not o'erthrown by your desires, I am friend to them and you: upon which errand I now go toward him; therefore follow me And mark what way I make: come, good my lord. [Exeunt] THE WINTER'S TALE ACT V SCENE II Before LEONTES' palace. [Enter AUTOLYCUS and a Gentleman] AUTOLYCUS Beseech you, sir, were you present at this relation? First Gentleman 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. AUTOLYCUS I would most gladly know the issue of it. First Gentleman I make a broken delivery of the business; but the changes I perceived in the king and Camillo were very notes of admiration: they seemed almost, with staring on one another, to tear the cases of their eyes; there was speech in their dumbness, language in their very gesture; they looked as they had heard of a world ransomed, or one destroyed: a notable passion of wonder appeared in them; but the wisest beholder, that knew no more but seeing, could not say if the importance were joy or sorrow; but in the extremity of the one, it must needs be. [Enter another Gentleman] Here comes a gentleman that haply knows more. The news, Rogero? Second Gentleman Nothing but bonfires: the oracle is fulfilled; the king's daughter is found: such a deal of wonder is broken out within this hour that ballad-makers cannot be able to express it. [Enter a third Gentleman] Here comes the Lady Paulina's steward: he can deliver you more. How goes it now, sir? this news which is called true is so like an old tale, that the verity of it is in strong suspicion: has the king found his heir? Third Gentleman Most true, if ever truth were pregnant by circumstance: that which you hear you'll swear you see, there is such unity in the proofs. 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. Did you see the meeting of the two kings? Second Gentleman No. Third Gentleman Then have you lost a sight, which was to be seen, cannot be spoken of. There might you have beheld one joy crown another, so and in such manner that it seemed sorrow wept to take leave of them, for their joy waded in tears. There was casting up of eyes, holding up of hands, with countenances of such distraction that they were to be known by garment, not by favour. Our king, being ready to leap out of himself for joy of his found daughter, as if that joy were now become a loss, cries 'O, thy mother, thy mother!' then asks Bohemia forgiveness; then embraces his son-in-law; then again worries he his daughter with clipping her; now he thanks the old shepherd, which stands by like a weather-bitten conduit of many kings' reigns. I never heard of such another encounter, which lames report to follow it and undoes description to do it. Second Gentleman What, pray you, became of Antigonus, that carried hence the child? Third Gentleman Like an old tale still, which will have matter to rehearse, though credit be asleep and not an ear open. He was torn to pieces with a bear: this avouches the shepherd's son; who has not only his innocence, which seems much, to justify him, but a handkerchief and rings of his that Paulina knows. First Gentleman What became of his bark and his followers? Third Gentleman Wrecked the same instant of their master's death and in the view of the shepherd: so that all the instruments which aided to expose the child were even then lost when it was found. But O, the noble combat that 'twixt joy and sorrow was fought in Paulina! She had one eye declined for the loss of her husband, another elevated that the oracle was fulfilled: she lifted the princess from the earth, and so locks her in embracing, as if she would pin her to her heart that she might no more be in danger of losing. First Gentleman The dignity of this act was worth the audience of kings and princes; for by such was it acted. Third Gentleman One of the prettiest touches of all and that which angled for mine eyes, caught the water though not the fish, was when, at the relation of the queen's death, with the manner how she came to't bravely confessed and lamented by the king, how attentiveness wounded his daughter; till, from one sign of dolour to another, she did, with an 'Alas,' I would fain say, bleed tears, for I am sure my heart wept blood. Who was most marble there changed colour; some swooned, all sorrowed: if all the world could have seen 't, the woe had been universal. First Gentleman Are they returned to the court? Third Gentleman No: the princess hearing of her mother's statue, which is in the keeping of Paulina,--a piece many years in doing and now newly performed by that rare Italian master, Julio Romano, who, had he himself eternity and could put breath into his work, would beguile Nature of her custom, so perfectly he is her ape: he so near to Hermione hath done Hermione that they say one would speak to her and stand in hope of answer: thither with all greediness of affection are they gone, and there they intend to sup. Second Gentleman I thought she had some great matter there in hand; for she hath privately twice or thrice a day, ever since the death of Hermione, visited that removed house. Shall we thither and with our company piece the rejoicing? First Gentleman Who would be thence that has the benefit of access? every wink of an eye some new grace will be born: our absence makes us unthrifty to our knowledge. Let's along. [Exeunt Gentlemen] AUTOLYCUS Now, had I not the dash of my former life in me, would preferment drop on my head. I brought the old man and his son aboard the prince: told him I heard them talk of a fardel and I know not what: but he at that time, overfond of the shepherd's daughter, so he then took her to be, who began to be much sea-sick, and himself little better, extremity of weather continuing, this mystery remained undiscovered. But 'tis all one to me; for had I been the finder out of this secret, it would not have relished 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. Shepherd Come, boy; I am past moe children, but thy sons and daughters will be all gentlemen born. Clown You are well met, sir. You denied to fight with me this other day, because I was no gentleman born. See you these clothes? say you see them not and think me still no gentleman born: you were best say these robes are not gentlemen born: give me the lie, do, and try whether I am not now a gentleman born. AUTOLYCUS I know you are now, sir, a gentleman born. Clown Ay, and have been so any time these four hours. Shepherd And so have I, boy. Clown So you have: but I was a gentleman born before my father; for the king's son took me by the hand, and called me brother; and then the two kings called my father brother; and then the prince my brother and the princess my sister called my father father; and so we wept, and there was the first gentleman-like tears that ever we shed. Shepherd We may live, son, to shed many more. Clown Ay; or else 'twere hard luck, being in so preposterous estate as we are. AUTOLYCUS 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. Shepherd Prithee, son, do; for we must be gentle, now we are gentlemen. Clown Thou wilt amend thy life? AUTOLYCUS Ay, an it like your good worship. Clown Give me thy hand: I will swear to the prince thou art as honest a true fellow as any is in Bohemia. Shepherd You may say it, but not swear it. Clown Not swear it, now I am a gentleman? Let boors and franklins say it, I'll swear it. Shepherd How if it be false, son? Clown If it be ne'er so false, a true gentleman may swear it in the behalf of his friend: and I'll swear to the prince thou art a tall fellow of thy hands and that thou wilt not be drunk; but I know thou art no tall fellow of thy hands and that thou wilt be drunk: but I'll swear it, and I would thou wouldst be a tall fellow of thy hands. AUTOLYCUS I will prove so, sir, to my power. Clown Ay, by any means prove a tall fellow: if I do not wonder how thou darest venture to be drunk, not being a tall fellow, trust me not. Hark! the kings and the princes, our kindred, are going to see the queen's picture. Come, follow us: we'll be thy good masters. [Exeunt] THE WINTER'S TALE ACT V SCENE III A chapel in PAULINA'S house. [Enter LEONTES, POLIXENES, FLORIZEL, PERDITA, CAMILLO, PAULINA, Lords, and Attendants] LEONTES O grave and good Paulina, the great comfort That I have had of thee! PAULINA What, sovereign sir, I did not well I meant well. All my services You have paid home: but that you have vouchsafed, With your crown'd brother and these your contracted Heirs of your kingdoms, my poor house to visit, It is a surplus of your grace, which never My life may last to answer. LEONTES O Paulina, We honour you with trouble: but we came To see the statue of our queen: 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. PAULINA As she lived peerless, So her dead likeness, I do well believe, Excels whatever yet you look'd upon Or hand of man hath done; therefore I keep it Lonely, apart. But here it is: prepare To see the life as lively mock'd as ever Still sleep mock'd death: behold, and say 'tis well. [PAULINA draws a curtain, and discovers HERMIONE standing like a statue] I like your silence, it the more shows off Your wonder: but yet speak; first, you, my liege, Comes it not something near? LEONTES Her natural posture! Chide me, dear stone, that I may say indeed Thou art Hermione; or rather, thou art she In thy not chiding, for she was as tender As infancy and grace. But yet, Paulina, Hermione was not so much wrinkled, nothing So aged as this seems. POLIXENES O, not by much. PAULINA So much the more our carver's excellence; Which lets go by some sixteen years and makes her As she lived now. LEONTES As now she might have done, So much to my good comfort, as it is Now piercing to my soul. O, thus she stood, Even with such life of majesty, warm life, As now it coldly stands, when first I woo'd her! I am ashamed: does not the stone rebuke me For being more stone than it? O royal piece, There's magic in thy majesty, which has My evils conjured to remembrance and From thy admiring daughter took the spirits, Standing like stone with thee. PERDITA And give me leave, And do not say 'tis superstition, that I kneel and then implore her blessing. Lady, Dear queen, that ended when I but began, Give me that hand of yours to kiss. PAULINA O, patience! The statue is but newly fix'd, the colour's Not dry. CAMILLO My lord, your sorrow was too sore laid on, Which sixteen winters cannot blow away, So many summers dry; scarce any joy Did ever so long live; no sorrow But kill'd itself much sooner. POLIXENES Dear my brother, Let him that was the cause of this have power To take off so much grief from you as he Will piece up in himself. PAULINA Indeed, my lord, If I had thought the sight of my poor image Would thus have wrought you,--for the stone is mine-- I'ld not have show'd it. LEONTES Do not draw the curtain. PAULINA No longer shall you gaze on't, lest your fancy May think anon it moves. LEONTES Let be, let be. Would I were dead, but that, methinks, already-- What was he that did make it? See, my lord, Would you not deem it breathed? and that those veins Did verily bear blood? POLIXENES Masterly done: The very life seems warm upon her lip. LEONTES The fixture of her eye has motion in't, As we are mock'd with art. PAULINA I'll draw the curtain: My lord's almost so far transported that He'll think anon it lives. LEONTES O sweet Paulina, Make me to think so twenty years together! No settled senses of the world can match The pleasure of that madness. Let 't alone. PAULINA I am sorry, sir, I have thus far stirr'd you: but I could afflict you farther. LEONTES Do, Paulina; For this affliction has a taste as sweet As any cordial comfort. Still, methinks, There is an air comes from her: what fine chisel Could ever yet cut breath? Let no man mock me, For I will kiss her. PAULINA Good my lord, forbear: The ruddiness upon her lip is wet; You'll mar it if you kiss it, stain your own With oily painting. Shall I draw the curtain? LEONTES No, not these twenty years. PERDITA So long could I Stand by, a looker on. PAULINA Either forbear, Quit presently the chapel, or resolve you For more amazement. If you can behold it, I'll make the statue move indeed, descend And take you by the hand; but then you'll think-- Which I protest against--I am assisted By wicked powers. LEONTES What you can make her do, I am content to look on: what to speak, I am content to hear; for 'tis as easy To make her speak as move. PAULINA It is required You do awake your faith. Then all stand still; On: those that think it is unlawful business I am about, let them depart. LEONTES Proceed: No foot shall stir. PAULINA Music, awake her; strike! [Music] 'Tis time; descend; be stone no more; approach; Strike all that look upon with marvel. Come, I'll fill your grave up: stir, nay, come away, Bequeath to death your numbness, for from him Dear life redeems you. You perceive she stirs: [HERMIONE comes down] Start not; her actions shall be holy as You hear my spell is lawful: do not shun her Until you see her die again; for then You kill her double. Nay, present your hand: When she was young you woo'd her; now in age Is she become the suitor? LEONTES O, she's warm! If this be magic, let it be an art Lawful as eating. POLIXENES She embraces him. CAMILLO She hangs about his neck: If she pertain to life let her speak too. POLIXENES Ay, and make't manifest where she has lived, Or how stolen from the dead. PAULINA That she is living, Were it but told you, should be hooted at Like an old tale: but it appears she lives, Though yet she speak not. Mark a little while. Please you to interpose, fair madam: kneel And pray your mother's blessing. Turn, good lady; Our Perdita is found. HERMIONE 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 preserved? where lived? 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 preserved Myself to see the issue. PAULINA There's time enough for that; Lest they desire upon this push to trouble Your joys with like relation. Go together, You precious winners all; your exultation Partake to every one. I, an old turtle, Will wing me to some wither'd bough and there My mate, that's never to be found again, Lament till I am lost. LEONTES O, peace, Paulina! Thou shouldst a husband take by my consent, As I by thine a wife: this is a match, And made between's by vows. Thou hast found mine; But how, is to be question'd; for I saw her, As I thought, dead, and have in vain said many A prayer upon her grave. I'll not seek far-- For him, I partly know his mind--to find thee An honourable husband. Come, Camillo, And take her by the hand, whose worth and honesty Is richly noted and here justified By us, a pair of kings. Let's from this place. What! look upon my brother: both your pardons, That e'er I put between your holy looks My ill suspicion. This is your son-in-law, And son unto the king, who, heavens directing, Is troth-plight to your daughter. Good Paulina, Lead us from hence, where we may leisurely Each one demand an answer to his part Perform'd in this wide gap of time since first We were dissever'd: hastily lead away. [Exeunt] CYMBELINE DRAMATIS PERSONAE CYMBELINE king of Britain. CLOTEN son to the Queen by a former husband. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS a gentleman, husband to Imogen. BELARIUS a banished lord, disguised under the name of Morgan. GUIDERIUS | sons to Cymbeline, disguised under the names | of Polydote and Cadwal, supposed sons to ARVIRAGUS | Morgan. PHILARIO friend to Posthumus, | | Italians. IACHIMO friend to Philario, | CAIUS LUCIUS general of the Roman forces. PISANIO servant to Posthumus. CORNELIUS a physician. A Roman Captain. (Captain:) Two British Captains. (First Captain:) (Second Captain:) A Frenchman, friend to Philario. (Frenchman:) Two Lords of Cymbeline's court. (First Lord:) (Second Lord:) Two Gentlemen of the same. (First Gentleman:) (Second Gentleman:) Two Gaolers. (First Gaoler:) (Second Gaoler:) QUEEN wife to Cymbeline. IMOGEN daughter to Cymbeline by a former queen. HELEN a lady attending on Imogen. Lords, Ladies, Roman Senators, Tribunes, a Soothsayer, a Dutchman, a Spaniard, Musicians, Officers, Captains, Soldiers, Messengers, and other Attendants. (Lord:) (Lady:) (First Lady:) (First Senator:) (Second Senator:) (First Tribune:) (Soothsayer:) (Messenger:) Apparitions. (Sicilius Leonatus:) (Mother:) (First Brother:) (Second Brother:) (Jupiter:) SCENE Britain; Rome. CYMBELINE ACT I SCENE I Britain. The garden of Cymbeline's palace. [Enter two Gentlemen] First Gentleman You do not meet a man but frowns: our bloods No more obey the heavens than our courtiers Still seem as does the king. Second Gentleman But what's the matter? First Gentleman His daughter, and the heir of's kingdom, whom He purposed to his wife's sole son--a widow That late he married--hath referr'd herself Unto a poor but worthy gentleman: she's wedded; Her husband banish'd; she imprison'd: all Is outward sorrow; though I think the king Be touch'd at very heart. Second Gentleman None but the king? First Gentleman He that hath lost her too; so is the queen, That most desired the match; but not a courtier, Although they wear their faces to the bent Of the king's look's, hath a heart that is not Glad at the thing they scowl at. Second Gentleman And why so? First Gentleman He that hath miss'd the princess is a thing Too bad for bad report: and he that hath her-- I mean, that married her, alack, good man! And therefore banish'd--is a creature such As, to seek through the regions of the earth For one his like, there would be something failing In him that should compare. I do not think So fair an outward and such stuff within Endows a man but he. Second Gentleman You speak him far. First Gentleman I do extend him, sir, within himself, Crush him together rather than unfold His measure duly. Second Gentleman What's his name and birth? First Gentleman I cannot delve him to the root: his father Was call'd Sicilius, who did join his honour Against the Romans with Cassibelan, But had his titles by Tenantius whom He served with glory and admired success, So gain'd the sur-addition Leonatus; And had, besides this gentleman in question, Two other sons, who in the wars o' the time Died with their swords in hand; for which their father, Then old and fond of issue, took such sorrow That he quit being, and his gentle lady, Big of this gentleman our theme, deceased As he was born. The king he takes the babe To his protection, calls him Posthumus Leonatus, Breeds him and makes him of his bed-chamber, Puts to him all the learnings that his time Could make him the receiver of; which he took, As we do air, fast as 'twas minister'd, And in's spring became a harvest, lived in court-- Which rare it is to do--most praised, most loved, A sample to the youngest, to the more mature A glass that feated them, and to the graver A child that guided dotards; to his mistress, For whom he now is banish'd, her own price Proclaims how she esteem'd him and his virtue; By her election may be truly read What kind of man he is. Second Gentleman I honour him Even out of your report. But, pray you, tell me, Is she sole child to the king? First Gentleman His only child. He had two sons: if this be worth your hearing, Mark it: the eldest of them at three years old, I' the swathing-clothes the other, from their nursery Were stol'n, and to this hour no guess in knowledge Which way they went. Second Gentleman How long is this ago? First Gentleman Some twenty years. Second Gentleman That a king's children should be so convey'd, So slackly guarded, and the search so slow, That could not trace them! First Gentleman Howsoe'er 'tis strange, Or that the negligence may well be laugh'd at, Yet is it true, sir. Second Gentleman I do well believe you. First Gentleman We must forbear: here comes the gentleman, The queen, and princess. [Exeunt] [Enter the QUEEN, POSTHUMUS LEONATUS, and IMOGEN] QUEEN No, be assured you shall not find me, daughter, After the slander of most stepmothers, Evil-eyed unto you: you're my prisoner, but Your gaoler shall deliver you the keys That lock up your restraint. For you, Posthumus, So soon as I can win the offended king, I will be known your advocate: marry, yet The fire of rage is in him, and 'twere good You lean'd unto his sentence with what patience Your wisdom may inform you. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Please your highness, I will from hence to-day. QUEEN You know the peril. I'll fetch a turn about the garden, pitying The pangs of barr'd affections, though the king Hath charged you should not speak together. [Exit] IMOGEN O Dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant Can tickle where she wounds! My dearest husband, I something fear my father's wrath; but nothing-- Always reserved my holy duty--what His rage can do on me: you must be gone; And I shall here abide the hourly shot Of angry eyes, not comforted to live, But that there is this jewel in the world That I may see again. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS My queen! my mistress! O lady, weep no more, lest I give cause To be suspected of more tenderness Than doth become a man. I will remain The loyal'st husband that did e'er plight troth: My residence in Rome at one Philario's, Who to my father was a friend, to me Known but by letter: thither write, my queen, And with mine eyes I'll drink the words you send, Though ink be made of gall. [Re-enter QUEEN] QUEEN Be brief, I pray you: If the king come, I shall incur I know not How much of his displeasure. [Aside] Yet I'll move him To walk this way: I never do him wrong, But he does buy my injuries, to be friends; Pays dear for my offences. [Exit] POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Should we be taking leave As long a term as yet we have to live, The loathness to depart would grow. Adieu! IMOGEN Nay, stay a little: Were you but riding forth to air yourself, Such parting were too petty. Look here, love; This diamond was my mother's: take it, heart; But keep it till you woo another wife, When Imogen is dead. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS How, how! another? You gentle gods, give me but this I have, And sear up my embracements from a next With bonds of death! [Putting on the ring] Remain, remain thou here While sense can keep it on. And, sweetest, fairest, As I my poor self did exchange for you, To your so infinite loss, so in our trifles I still win of you: for my sake wear this; It is a manacle of love; I'll place it Upon this fairest prisoner. [Putting a bracelet upon her arm] IMOGEN O the gods! When shall we see again? [Enter CYMBELINE and Lords] POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Alack, the king! CYMBELINE Thou basest thing, avoid! hence, from my sight! If after this command thou fraught the court With thy unworthiness, thou diest: away! Thou'rt poison to my blood. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS The gods protect you! And bless the good remainders of the court! I am gone. [Exit] IMOGEN There cannot be a pinch in death More sharp than this is. CYMBELINE O disloyal thing, That shouldst repair my youth, thou heap'st A year's age on me. IMOGEN I beseech you, sir, Harm not yourself with your vexation I am senseless of your wrath; a touch more rare Subdues all pangs, all fears. CYMBELINE Past grace? obedience? IMOGEN Past hope, and in despair; that way, past grace. CYMBELINE That mightst have had the sole son of my queen! IMOGEN O blest, that I might not! I chose an eagle, And did avoid a puttock. CYMBELINE Thou took'st a beggar; wouldst have made my throne A seat for baseness. IMOGEN No; I rather added A lustre to it. CYMBELINE O thou vile one! IMOGEN Sir, It is your fault that I have loved Posthumus: You bred him as my playfellow, and he is A man worth any woman, overbuys me Almost the sum he pays. CYMBELINE What, art thou mad? IMOGEN Almost, sir: heaven restore me! Would I were A neat-herd's daughter, and my Leonatus Our neighbour shepherd's son! CYMBELINE Thou foolish thing! [Re-enter QUEEN] They were again together: you have done Not after our command. Away with her, And pen her up. QUEEN Beseech your patience. Peace, Dear lady daughter, peace! Sweet sovereign, Leave us to ourselves; and make yourself some comfort Out of your best advice. CYMBELINE Nay, let her languish A drop of blood a day; and, being aged, Die of this folly! [Exeunt CYMBELINE and Lords] QUEEN Fie! you must give way. [Enter PISANIO] Here is your servant. How now, sir! What news? PISANIO My lord your son drew on my master. QUEEN Ha! No harm, I trust, is done? PISANIO There might have been, But that my master rather play'd than fought And had no help of anger: they were parted By gentlemen at hand. QUEEN I am very glad on't. IMOGEN 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. Why came you from your master? PISANIO On his command: he would not suffer me To bring him to the haven; left these notes Of what commands I should be subject to, When 't pleased you to employ me. QUEEN This hath been Your faithful servant: I dare lay mine honour He will remain so. PISANIO I humbly thank your highness. QUEEN Pray, walk awhile. IMOGEN About some half-hour hence, I pray you, speak with me: you shall at least Go see my lord aboard: for this time leave me. [Exeunt] CYMBELINE ACT I SCENE II The same. A public place. [Enter CLOTEN and two Lords] First Lord Sir, I would advise you to shift a shirt; the violence of action hath made you reek as a sacrifice: where air comes out, air comes in: there's none abroad so wholesome as that you vent. CLOTEN If my shirt were bloody, then to shift it. Have I hurt him? Second Lord [Aside] No, 'faith; not so much as his patience. First Lord Hurt him! his body's a passable carcass, if he be not hurt: it is a thoroughfare for steel, if it be not hurt. Second Lord [Aside] His steel was in debt; it went o' the backside the town. CLOTEN The villain would not stand me. Second Lord [Aside] No; but he fled forward still, toward your face. First Lord Stand you! You have land enough of your own: but he added to your having; gave you some ground. Second Lord [Aside] As many inches as you have oceans. Puppies! CLOTEN I would they had not come between us. Second Lord [Aside] So would I, till you had measured how long a fool you were upon the ground. CLOTEN And that she should love this fellow and refuse me! Second Lord [Aside] If it be a sin to make a true election, she is damned. First Lord Sir, as I told you always, her beauty and her brain go not together: she's a good sign, but I have seen small reflection of her wit. Second Lord [Aside] She shines not upon fools, lest the reflection should hurt her. CLOTEN Come, I'll to my chamber. Would there had been some hurt done! Second Lord [Aside] I wish not so; unless it had been the fall of an ass, which is no great hurt. CLOTEN You'll go with us? First Lord I'll attend your lordship. CLOTEN Nay, come, let's go together. Second Lord Well, my lord. [Exeunt] CYMBELINE ACT I SCENE III A room in Cymbeline's palace. [Enter IMOGEN and PISANIO] IMOGEN I would thou grew'st unto the shores o' the haven, And question'dst every sail: if he should write And not have it, 'twere a paper lost, As offer'd mercy is. What was the last That he spake to thee? PISANIO It was his queen, his queen! IMOGEN Then waved his handkerchief? PISANIO And kiss'd it, madam. IMOGEN Senseless Linen! happier therein than I! And that was all? PISANIO No, madam; for so long As he could make me with this eye or ear Distinguish him from others, he did keep The deck, with glove, or hat, or handkerchief, Still waving, as the fits and stirs of 's mind Could best express how slow his soul sail'd on, How swift his ship. IMOGEN Thou shouldst have made him As little as a crow, or less, ere left To after-eye him. PISANIO Madam, so I did. IMOGEN I would have broke mine eye-strings; crack'd them, but To look upon him, till the diminution Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle, Nay, follow'd him, till he had melted from The smallness of a gnat to air, and then Have turn'd mine eye and wept. But, good Pisanio, When shall we hear from him? PISANIO Be assured, madam, With his next vantage. IMOGEN I did not take my leave of him, but had Most pretty things to say: ere I could tell him How I would think on him at certain hours Such thoughts and such, or I could make him swear The shes of Italy should not betray Mine interest and his honour, or have charged him, At the sixth hour of morn, at noon, at midnight, To encounter me with orisons, for then I am in heaven for him; or ere I could Give him that parting kiss which I had set Betwixt two charming words, comes in my father And like the tyrannous breathing of the north Shakes all our buds from growing. [Enter a Lady] Lady The queen, madam, Desires your highness' company. IMOGEN Those things I bid you do, get them dispatch'd. I will attend the queen. PISANIO Madam, I shall. [Exeunt] CYMBELINE ACT I SCENE IV Rome. Philario's house. [Enter PHILARIO, IACHIMO, a Frenchman, a Dutchman, and a Spaniard] IACHIMO Believe it, sir, I have seen him in Britain: he was then of a crescent note, expected to prove so worthy as since he hath been allowed the name of; but I could then have looked on him without the help of admiration, though the catalogue of his endowments had been tabled by his side and I to peruse him by items. PHILARIO You speak of him when he was less furnished than now he is with that which makes him both without and within. Frenchman I have seen him in France: we had very many there could behold the sun with as firm eyes as he. IACHIMO 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. Frenchman And then his banishment. IACHIMO Ay, and the approbation of those that weep this lamentable divorce under her colours are wonderfully to extend him; be it but to fortify her judgment, which else an easy battery might lay flat, for taking a beggar without less quality. But how comes it he is to sojourn with you? How creeps acquaintance? PHILARIO His father and I were soldiers together; to whom I have been often bound for no less than my life. Here comes the Briton: let him be so entertained amongst you as suits, with gentlemen of your knowing, to a stranger of his quality. [Enter POSTHUMUS LEONATUS] I beseech you all, be better known to this gentleman; whom I commend to you as a noble friend of mine: how worthy he is I will leave to appear hereafter, rather than story him in his own hearing. Frenchman Sir, we have known together in Orleans. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Since when I have been debtor to you for courtesies, which I will be ever to pay and yet pay still. Frenchman Sir, you o'er-rate my poor kindness: I was glad I did atone my countryman and you; it had been pity you should have been put together with so mortal a purpose as then each bore, upon importance of so slight and trivial a nature. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS By your pardon, sir, I was then a young traveller; rather shunned 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. Frenchman '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 fallen both. IACHIMO Can we, with manners, ask what was the difference? Frenchman Safely, I think: 'twas a contention in public, which may, without contradiction, suffer the report. 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. IACHIMO That lady is not now living, or this gentleman's opinion by this worn out. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS She holds her virtue still and I my mind. IACHIMO You must not so far prefer her 'fore ours of Italy. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Being so far provoked as I was in France, I would abate her nothing, though I profess myself her adorer, not her friend. IACHIMO As fair and as good--a kind of hand-in-hand comparison--had been something too fair and too good for any lady in Britain. 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. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS I praised her as I rated her: so do I my stone. IACHIMO What do you esteem it at? POSTHUMUS LEONATUS More than the world enjoys. IACHIMO Either your unparagoned mistress is dead, or she's outprized by a trifle. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS You are mistaken: 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. IACHIMO Which the gods have given you? POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Which, by their graces, I will keep. IACHIMO You may wear her in title yours: but, you know, strange fowl light upon neighbouring ponds. Your ring may be stolen too: so your brace of unprizable estimations; the one is but frail and the other casual; a cunning thief, or a that way accomplished courtier, would hazard the winning both of first and last. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Your Italy contains none so accomplished a courtier to convince the honour of my mistress, if, in the holding or loss of that, you term her frail. I do nothing doubt you have store of thieves; notwithstanding, I fear not my ring. PHILARIO Let us leave here, gentlemen. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Sir, with all my heart. This worthy signior, I thank him, makes no stranger of me; we are familiar at first. IACHIMO With five times so much conversation, I should get ground of your fair mistress, make her go back, even to the yielding, had I admittance and opportunity to friend. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS No, no. IACHIMO I dare thereupon pawn the moiety of my estate to your ring; which, in my opinion, o'ervalues it something: 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. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS You are a great deal abused in too bold a persuasion; and I doubt not you sustain what you're worthy of by your attempt. IACHIMO What's that? POSTHUMUS LEONATUS A repulse: though your attempt, as you call it, deserve more; a punishment too. PHILARIO Gentlemen, enough of this: it came in too suddenly; let it die as it was born, and, I pray you, be better acquainted. IACHIMO Would I had put my estate and my neighbour's on the approbation of what I have spoke! POSTHUMUS LEONATUS What lady would you choose to assail? IACHIMO Yours; whom in constancy you think stands so safe. I will lay you ten thousand ducats to your ring, that, commend me to the court where your lady is, with no more advantage than the opportunity of a second conference, and I will bring from thence that honour of hers which you imagine so reserved. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS I will wage against your gold, gold to it: my ring I hold dear as my finger; 'tis part of it. IACHIMO You are afraid, and therein the wiser. If you buy ladies' flesh at a million a dram, you cannot preserve it from tainting: but I see you have some religion in you, that you fear. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS This is but a custom in your tongue; you bear a graver purpose, I hope. IACHIMO I am the master of my speeches, and would undergo what's spoken, I swear. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Will you? I shall but lend my diamond till your return: let there be covenants drawn between's: my mistress exceeds in goodness the hugeness of your unworthy thinking: I dare you to this match: here's my ring. PHILARIO I will have it no lay. IACHIMO By the gods, it is one. If I bring you no sufficient testimony that I have enjoyed the dearest bodily part of your mistress, my ten thousand ducats are yours; so is your diamond too: if I come off, and leave her in such honour as you have trust in, she your jewel, this your jewel, and my gold are yours: provided I have your commendation for my more free entertainment. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS I embrace these conditions; let us have articles betwixt us. Only, thus far you shall answer: if you make your voyage upon her and give me directly to understand you have prevailed, I am no further your enemy; she is not worth our debate: if she remain unseduced, you not making it appear otherwise, for your ill opinion and the assault you have made to her chastity you shall answer me with your sword. IACHIMO Your hand; a covenant: we will have these things set down by lawful counsel, and straight away for Britain, lest the bargain should catch cold and starve: I will fetch my gold and have our two wagers recorded. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Agreed. [Exeunt POSTHUMUS LEONATUS and IACHIMO] Frenchman Will this hold, think you? PHILARIO Signior Iachimo will not from it. Pray, let us follow 'em. [Exeunt] CYMBELINE ACT I SCENE V Britain. A room in Cymbeline's palace. [Enter QUEEN, Ladies, and CORNELIUS] QUEEN Whiles yet the dew's on ground, gather those flowers; Make haste: who has the note of them? First Lady I, madam. QUEEN Dispatch. [Exeunt Ladies] Now, master doctor, have you brought those drugs? CORNELIUS Pleaseth your highness, ay: here they are, madam: [Presenting a small box] But I beseech your grace, without offence,-- My conscience bids me ask--wherefore you have Commanded of me those most poisonous compounds, Which are the movers of a languishing death; But though slow, deadly? QUEEN I wonder, doctor, Thou ask'st me such a question. 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. CORNELIUS Your highness Shall from this practise but make hard your heart: Besides, the seeing these effects will be Both noisome and infectious. QUEEN O, content thee. [Enter PISANIO] [Aside] Here comes a flattering rascal; upon him Will I first work: he's for his master, An enemy to my son. How now, Pisanio! Doctor, your service for this time is ended; Take your own way. CORNELIUS [Aside] I do suspect you, madam; But you shall do no harm. QUEEN [To PISANIO] Hark thee, a word. CORNELIUS [Aside] I do not like her. She doth think she has Strange lingering poisons: I do know her spirit, And will not trust one of her malice with A drug of such damn'd nature. Those she has Will stupefy and dull the sense awhile; Which first, perchance, she'll prove on cats and dogs, Then afterward up higher: but there is No danger in what show of death it makes, More than the locking-up the spirits a time, To be more fresh, reviving. She is fool'd With a most false effect; and I the truer, So to be false with her. QUEEN No further service, doctor, Until I send for thee. CORNELIUS I humbly take my leave. [Exit] QUEEN Weeps she still, say'st thou? Dost thou think in time She will not quench and let instructions enter Where folly now possesses? Do thou work: When thou shalt bring me word she loves my son, I'll tell thee on the instant thou art then As great as is thy master, greater, for His fortunes all lie speechless and his name Is at last gasp: return he cannot, nor Continue where he is: to shift his being Is to exchange one misery with another, And every day that comes comes to decay A day's work in him. 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: PISANIO takes it up] Thou takest up Thou know'st not what; but take it for thy labour: It is a thing I made, which hath the king Five times redeem'd from death: I do not know What is more cordial. Nay, I prethee, take it; It is an earnest of a further good That I mean to thee. Tell thy mistress how The case stands with her; do't as from thyself. Think what a chance thou changest on, but think Thou hast thy mistress still, to boot, my son, Who shall take notice of thee: I'll move the king To any shape of thy preferment such As thou'lt desire; and then myself, I chiefly, That set thee on to this desert, am bound To load thy merit richly. Call my women: Think on my words. [Exit PISANIO] A sly and constant knave, Not to be shaked; the agent for his master And the remembrancer of her to hold The hand-fast to her lord. I have given him that Which, if he take, shall quite unpeople her Of liegers for her sweet, and which she after, Except she bend her humour, shall be assured To taste of too. [Re-enter PISANIO and Ladies] So, so: well done, well done: The violets, cowslips, and the primroses, Bear to my closet. Fare thee well, Pisanio; Think on my words. [Exeunt QUEEN and Ladies] PISANIO And shall do: But when to my good lord I prove untrue, I'll choke myself: there's all I'll do for you. [Exit] CYMBELINE ACT I SCENE VI The same. Another room in the palace. [Enter IMOGEN] IMOGEN A father cruel, and a step-dame false; A foolish suitor to a wedded lady, That hath her husband banish'd;--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: blest be those, How mean soe'er, that have their honest wills, Which seasons comfort. Who may this be? Fie! [Enter PISANIO and IACHIMO] PISANIO Madam, a noble gentleman of Rome, Comes from my lord with letters. IACHIMO Change you, madam? The worthy Leonatus is in safety And greets your highness dearly. [Presents a letter] IMOGEN Thanks, good sir: You're kindly welcome. IACHIMO [Aside] All of her that is out of door most rich! If she be furnish'd with a mind so rare, She is alone the 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. IMOGEN [Reads] 'He is one of the noblest note, to whose kindnesses I am most infinitely tied. Reflect upon him accordingly, as you value your trust-- LEONATUS.' So far I read aloud: But even the very middle of my heart Is warm'd by the rest, and takes it thankfully. You are as welcome, worthy sir, as I Have words to bid you, and shall find it so In all that I can do. IACHIMO Thanks, fairest lady. What, are men mad? Hath nature given them eyes To see this vaulted arch, and the rich crop Of sea and land, which can distinguish 'twixt The fiery orbs above and the twinn'd stones Upon the number'd beach? and can we not Partition make with spectacles so precious 'Twixt fair and foul? IMOGEN What makes your admiration? IACHIMO It cannot be i' the eye, for apes and monkeys 'Twixt two such shes would chatter this way and Contemn with mows the other; nor i' the judgment, For idiots in this case of favour would Be wisely definite; nor i' the appetite; Sluttery to such neat excellence opposed Should make desire vomit emptiness, Not so allured to feed. IMOGEN What is the matter, trow? IACHIMO The cloyed will, That satiate yet unsatisfied desire, that tub Both fill'd and running, ravening first the lamb Longs after for the garbage. IMOGEN What, dear sir, Thus raps you? Are you well? IACHIMO Thanks, madam; well. [To PISANIO] Beseech you, sir, desire My man's abode where I did leave him: he Is strange and peevish. PISANIO I was going, sir, To give him welcome. [Exit] IMOGEN Continues well my lord? His health, beseech you? IACHIMO Well, madam. IMOGEN Is he disposed to mirth? I hope he is. IACHIMO Exceeding pleasant; none a stranger there So merry and so gamesome: he is call'd The Briton reveller. IMOGEN When he was here, He did incline to sadness, and oft-times Not knowing why. IACHIMO I never saw him sad. There is a Frenchman his companion, one An eminent monsieur, that, it seems, much loves A Gallian girl at home; he furnaces The thick sighs from him, whiles the jolly Briton-- Your lord, I mean--laughs from's free lungs, cries 'O, Can my sides hold, to think that man, who knows By history, report, or his own proof, What woman is, yea, what she cannot choose But must be, will his free hours languish for Assured bondage?' IMOGEN Will my lord say so? IACHIMO Ay, madam, with his eyes in flood with laughter: It is a recreation to be by And hear him mock the Frenchman. But, heavens know, Some men are much to blame. IMOGEN Not he, I hope. IACHIMO Not he: but yet heaven's bounty towards him might Be used more thankfully. In himself, 'tis much; In you, which I account his beyond all talents, Whilst I am bound to wonder, I am bound To pity too. IMOGEN What do you pity, sir? IACHIMO Two creatures heartily. IMOGEN Am I one, sir? You look on me: what wreck discern you in me Deserves your pity? IACHIMO Lamentable! What, To hide me from the radiant sun and solace I' the dungeon by a snuff? IMOGEN I pray you, sir, Deliver with more openness your answers To my demands. Why do you pity me? IACHIMO That others do-- I was about to say--enjoy your--But It is an office of the gods to venge it, Not mine to speak on 't. IMOGEN You do seem to know Something of me, or what concerns me: pray you,-- Since doubling things go ill often hurts more Than to be sure they do; for certainties Either are past remedies, or, timely knowing, The remedy then born--discover to me What both you spur and stop. IACHIMO Had I this cheek To bathe my lips upon; this hand, whose touch, Whose every touch, would force the feeler's soul To the oath of loyalty; this object, which Takes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye, Fixing it only here; should I, damn'd then, Slaver with lips as common as the stairs That mount the Capitol; join gripes with hands Made hard with hourly falsehood--falsehood, as With labour; then by-peeping in an eye Base and unlustrous as the smoky light That's fed with stinking tallow; it were fit That all the plagues of hell should at one time Encounter such revolt. IMOGEN My lord, I fear, Has forgot Britain. IACHIMO And himself. Not I, Inclined to this intelligence, pronounce The beggary of his change; but 'tis your graces That from pay mutest conscience to my tongue Charms this report out. IMOGEN Let me hear no more. IACHIMO O dearest soul! your cause doth strike my heart With pity, that doth make me sick. A lady So fair, and fasten'd to an empery, Would make the great'st king double,--to be partner'd With tomboys hired with that self-exhibition Which your own coffers yield! with diseased ventures That play with all infirmities for gold Which rottenness can lend nature! such boil'd stuff As well might poison poison! Be revenged; Or she that bore you was no queen, and you Recoil from your great stock. IMOGEN Revenged! How should I be revenged? If this be true,-- As I have such a heart that both mine ears Must not in haste abuse--if it be true, How should I be revenged? IACHIMO Should he make me Live, like Diana's priest, betwixt cold sheets, Whiles he is vaulting variable ramps, In your despite, upon your purse? Revenge it. I dedicate myself to your sweet pleasure, More noble than that runagate to your bed, And will continue fast to your affection, Still close as sure. IMOGEN What, ho, Pisanio! IACHIMO Let me my service tender on your lips. IMOGEN Away! I do condemn mine ears that have So long attended thee. If thou wert honourable, Thou wouldst have told this tale for virtue, not For such an end thou seek'st,--as base as strange. Thou wrong'st a gentleman, who is as far From thy report as thou from honour, and Solicit'st here a lady that disdains Thee and the devil alike. What ho, Pisanio! The king my father shall be made acquainted Of thy assault: if he shall think it fit, A saucy stranger in his court to mart As in a Romish stew and to expound His beastly mind to us, he hath a court He little cares for and a daughter who He not respects at all. What, ho, Pisanio! IACHIMO O happy Leonatus! I may say The credit that thy lady hath of thee Deserves thy trust, and thy most perfect goodness Her assured credit. 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. I have spoke this, to know if your affiance Were deeply rooted; and shall make your lord, That which he is, new o'er: and he is one The truest manner'd; such a holy witch That he enchants societies into him; Half all men's hearts are his. IMOGEN You make amends. IACHIMO He sits 'mongst men like a descended god: He hath a kind of honour sets him off, More than a mortal seeming. Be not angry, Most mighty princess, that I have adventured To try your taking a false report; which hath Honour'd with confirmation your great judgment In the election of a sir so rare, Which you know cannot err: the love I bear him Made me to fan you thus, but the gods made you, Unlike all others, chaffless. Pray, your pardon. IMOGEN All's well, sir: take my power i' the court for yours. IACHIMO My humble thanks. I had almost forgot To entreat your grace but in a small request, And yet of moment to, for it concerns Your lord; myself and other noble friends, Are partners in the business. IMOGEN Pray, what is't? IACHIMO Some dozen Romans of us and your lord-- The best feather of our wing--have mingled sums To buy a present for the emperor Which I, the factor for the rest, have done In France: '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: may it please you To take them in protection? IMOGEN Willingly; And pawn mine honour for their safety: since My lord hath interest in them, I will keep them In my bedchamber. IACHIMO They are in a trunk, Attended by my men: I will make bold To send them to you, only for this night; I must aboard to-morrow. IMOGEN O, no, no. IACHIMO Yes, I beseech; or I shall short my word By lengthening my return. From Gallia I cross'd the seas on purpose and on promise To see your grace. IMOGEN I thank you for your pains: But not away to-morrow! IACHIMO O, I must, madam: Therefore I shall beseech you, if you please To greet your lord with writing, do't to-night: I have outstood my time; which is material To the tender of our present. IMOGEN I will write. Send your trunk to me; it shall safe be kept, And truly yielded you. You're very welcome. [Exeunt] CYMBELINE ACT II SCENE I Britain. Before Cymbeline's palace. [Enter CLOTEN and two Lords] CLOTEN Was there ever man had such luck! when I kissed the jack, upon an up-cast to be hit away! I had a hundred pound on't: and then a whoreson jackanapes must take me up for swearing; as if I borrowed mine oaths of him and might not spend them at my pleasure. First Lord What got he by that? You have broke his pate with your bowl. Second Lord [Aside] If his wit had been like him that broke it, it would have run all out. CLOTEN When a gentleman is disposed to swear, it is not for any standers-by to curtail his oaths, ha? Second Lord No my lord; [Aside] nor crop the ears of them. CLOTEN Whoreson dog! I give him satisfaction? Would he had been one of my rank! Second Lord [Aside] To have smelt like a fool. CLOTEN I am not vexed more at any thing in the earth: 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: every Jack-slave hath his bellyful of fighting, and I must go up and down like a cock that nobody can match. Second Lord [Aside] You are cock and capon too; and you crow, cock, with your comb on. CLOTEN Sayest thou? Second Lord It is not fit your lordship should undertake every companion that you give offence to. CLOTEN No, I know that: but it is fit I should commit offence to my inferiors. Second Lord Ay, it is fit for your lordship only. CLOTEN Why, so I say. First Lord Did you hear of a stranger that's come to court to-night? CLOTEN A stranger, and I not know on't! Second Lord [Aside] He's a strange fellow himself, and knows it not. First Lord There's an Italian come; and, 'tis thought, one of Leonatus' friends. CLOTEN Leonatus! a banished rascal; and he's another, whatsoever he be. Who told you of this stranger? First Lord One of your lordship's pages. CLOTEN Is it fit I went to look upon him? is there no derogation in't? Second Lord You cannot derogate, my lord. CLOTEN Not easily, I think. Second Lord [Aside] You are a fool granted; therefore your issues, being foolish, do not derogate. CLOTEN Come, I'll go see this Italian: what I have lost to-day at bowls I'll win to-night of him. Come, go. Second Lord I'll attend your lordship. [Exeunt CLOTEN and First Lord] That such a crafty devil as is his mother Should yield the world this ass! a woman that Bears all down with her brain; and this her son Cannot take two from twenty, for his heart, And leave eighteen. Alas, poor princess, Thou divine Imogen, what thou endurest, Betwixt a father by thy step-dame govern'd, A mother hourly coining plots, a wooer More hateful than the foul expulsion is Of thy dear husband, than that horrid act Of the divorce he'ld make! The heavens hold firm The walls of thy dear honour, keep unshaked That temple, thy fair mind, that thou mayst stand, To enjoy thy banish'd lord and this great land! [Exit] CYMBELINE ACT II SCENE II Imogen's bedchamber in Cymbeline's palace: a trunk in one corner of it. [IMOGEN in bed, reading; a Lady attending] IMOGEN Who's there? my woman Helen? Lady Please you, madam IMOGEN What hour is it? Lady Almost midnight, madam. IMOGEN I have read three hours then: mine eyes are weak: Fold down the leaf where I have left: to bed: Take not away the taper, leave it burning; And if thou canst awake by four o' the clock, I prithee, call me. Sleep hath seized me wholly [Exit Lady] To your protection I commend me, gods. From fairies and the tempters of the night Guard me, beseech ye. [Sleeps. IACHIMO comes from the trunk] IACHIMO The crickets sing, and man's o'er-labour'd sense Repairs itself by rest. Our Tarquin thus Did softly press the rushes, ere he waken'd The chastity he wounded. Cytherea, How bravely thou becomest 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: the flame o' the taper Bows toward her, and would under-peep her lids, To see the enclosed lights, now canopied Under these windows, white and azure laced With blue of heaven's own tinct. But my design, To note the chamber: I will write all down: Such and such pictures; there the window; such The adornment of her bed; the arras; figures, Why, such and such; and the contents o' the story. Ah, but some natural notes about her body, Above ten thousand meaner moveables Would testify, to enrich mine inventory. O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her! And be her sense but as a monument, Thus in a chapel lying! Come off, come off: [Taking off her bracelet] As slippery as the Gordian knot was hard! 'Tis mine; and this will witness outwardly, As strongly as the conscience does within, To the madding of her lord. On her left breast A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops I' the bottom of a cowslip: 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. No more. To what end? Why should I write this down, that's riveted, Screw'd to my memory? She hath been reading late The tale of Tereus; here the leaf's turn'd down Where Philomel gave up. I have enough: To the trunk again, and shut the spring of it. Swift, swift, you dragons of the night, that dawning May bare the raven's eye! I lodge in fear; Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here. [Clock strikes] One, two, three: time, time! [Goes into the trunk. The scene closes] CYMBELINE ACT II Scene III An ante-chamber adjoining Imogen's apartments. [Enter CLOTEN and Lords] First Lord Your lordship is the most patient man in loss, the most coldest that ever turned up ace. CLOTEN It would make any man cold to lose. First Lord But not every man patient after the noble temper of your lordship. You are most hot and furious when you win. CLOTEN Winning will put any man into courage. If I could get this foolish Imogen, I should have gold enough. It's almost morning, is't not? First Lord Day, my lord. CLOTEN I would this music would come: I am advised to give her music o' mornings; they say it will penetrate. [Enter Musicians] Come on; tune: if you can penetrate her with your fingering, so; we'll try with tongue too: if none will do, let her remain; but I'll never give o'er. 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 chaliced flowers that lies; And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes: With every thing that pretty is, My lady sweet, arise: Arise, arise. CLOTEN So, get you gone. If this penetrate, I will consider your music the better: if it do not, it is a vice in her ears, which horse-hairs and calves'-guts, nor the voice of unpaved eunuch to boot, can never amend. [Exeunt Musicians] Second Lord Here comes the king. CLOTEN I am glad I was up so late; for that's the reason I was up so early: he cannot choose but take this service I have done fatherly. [Enter CYMBELINE and QUEEN] Good morrow to your majesty and to my gracious mother. CYMBELINE Attend you here the door of our stern daughter? Will she not forth? CLOTEN I have assailed her with music, but she vouchsafes no notice. CYMBELINE 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. QUEEN You are most bound to the king, Who lets go by no vantages that may Prefer you to his daughter. Frame yourself To orderly soliciting, and be friended With aptness of the season; make denials Increase your services; so seem as if You were inspired 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. CLOTEN Senseless! not so. [Enter a Messenger] Messenger So like you, sir, ambassadors from Rome; The one is Caius Lucius. CYMBELINE A worthy fellow, Albeit he comes on angry purpose now; But that's no fault of his: we must receive him According to the honour of his sender; And towards himself, his goodness forespent on us, We must extend our notice. Our dear son, When you have given good morning to your mistress, Attend the queen and us; we shall have need To employ you towards this Roman. Come, our queen. [Exeunt all but CLOTEN] CLOTEN If she be up, I'll speak with her; if not, Let her lie still and dream. [Knocks] By your leave, ho! I Know her women are about her: what If I do line one of their hands? 'Tis gold Which buys admittance; oft it doth; yea, and makes Diana's rangers false themselves, yield up Their deer to the stand o' the stealer; and 'tis gold Which makes the true man kill'd and saves the thief; Nay, sometime hangs both thief and true man: what Can it not do and undo? I will make One of her women lawyer to me, for I yet not understand the case myself. [Knocks] By your leave. [Enter a Lady] Lady Who's there that knocks? CLOTEN A gentleman. Lady No more? CLOTEN Yes, and a gentlewoman's son. Lady That's more Than some, whose tailors are as dear as yours, Can justly boast of. What's your lordship's pleasure? CLOTEN Your lady's person: is she ready? Lady Ay, To keep her chamber. CLOTEN There is gold for you; Sell me your good report. Lady How! my good name? or to report of you What I shall think is good?--The princess! [Enter IMOGEN] CLOTEN Good morrow, fairest: sister, your sweet hand. [Exit Lady] IMOGEN Good morrow, sir. You lay out too much pains For purchasing but trouble; the thanks I give Is telling you that I am poor of thanks And scarce can spare them. CLOTEN Still, I swear I love you. IMOGEN If you but said so, 'twere as deep with me: If you swear still, your recompense is still That I regard it not. CLOTEN This is no answer. IMOGEN But that you shall not say I yield being silent, I would not speak. I pray you, spare me: 'faith, I shall unfold equal discourtesy To your best kindness: one of your great knowing Should learn, being taught, forbearance. CLOTEN To leave you in your madness, 'twere my sin: I will not. IMOGEN Fools are not mad folks. CLOTEN Do you call me fool? IMOGEN As I am mad, I do: If you'll be patient, I'll no more be mad; That cures us both. I am much sorry, sir, You put me to forget a lady's manners, By being so verbal: and learn now, for all, That I, which know my heart, do here pronounce, By the very truth of it, I care not for you, And am so near the lack of charity-- To accuse myself--I hate you; which I had rather You felt than make't my boast. CLOTEN You sin against Obedience, which you owe your father. For The contract you pretend with that base wretch, One bred of alms and foster'd with cold dishes, With scraps o' the court, it is no contract, none: And though it be allow'd in meaner parties-- Yet who than he more mean?--to knit their souls, On whom there is no more dependency But brats and beggary, in self-figured knot; Yet you are curb'd from that enlargement by The consequence o' the crown, and must not soil The precious note of it with a base slave. A hilding for a livery, a squire's cloth, A pantler, not so eminent. IMOGEN Profane fellow Wert thou the son of Jupiter and no more But what thou art besides, thou wert too base To be his groom: thou wert dignified enough, Even to the point of envy, if 'twere made Comparative for your virtues, to be styled The under-hangman of his kingdom, and hated For being preferred so well. CLOTEN The south-fog rot him! IMOGEN He never can meet more mischance than come To be but named of thee. His meanest 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. How now, Pisanio! [Enter PISANIO] CLOTEN 'His garment!' Now the devil-- IMOGEN To Dorothy my woman hie thee presently-- CLOTEN 'His garment!' IMOGEN I am sprited with a fool. Frighted, and anger'd worse: go bid my woman Search for a jewel that too casually Hath left mine arm: it was thy master's: 'shrew me, If I would lose it for a revenue Of any king's in Europe. I do think I saw't this morning: confident I am Last night 'twas on mine arm; I kiss'd it: I hope it be not gone to tell my lord That I kiss aught but he. PISANIO 'Twill not be lost. IMOGEN I hope so: go and search. [Exit PISANIO] CLOTEN You have abused me: 'His meanest garment!' IMOGEN Ay, I said so, sir: If you will make't an action, call witness to't. CLOTEN I will inform your father. IMOGEN Your mother too: She's my good lady, and will conceive, I hope, But the worst of me. So, I leave you, sir, To the worst of discontent. [Exit] CLOTEN I'll be revenged: 'His meanest garment!' Well. [Exit] CYMBELINE ACT II SCENE IV Rome. Philario's house. [Enter POSTHUMUS and PHILARIO] POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Fear it not, sir: I would I were so sure To win the king as I am bold her honour Will remain hers. PHILARIO What means do you make to him? POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Not any, but abide the change of time, Quake in the present winter's state and wish That warmer days would come: in these sear'd hopes, I barely gratify your love; they failing, I must die much your debtor. PHILARIO Your very goodness and your company O'erpays all I can do. By this, your king Hath heard of great Augustus: Caius Lucius Will do's commission throughly: and I think He'll grant the tribute, send the arrearages, Or look upon our Romans, whose remembrance Is yet fresh in their grief. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS I do believe, Statist though I am none, nor like to be, That this will prove a war; and you shall hear The legions now in Gallia sooner landed In our not-fearing Britain than have tidings Of any penny tribute paid. Our countrymen Are men more order'd than when Julius Caesar Smiled at their lack of skill, but found their courage Worthy his frowning at: their discipline, Now mingled with their courages, will make known To their approvers they are people such That mend upon the world. [Enter IACHIMO] PHILARIO See! Iachimo! POSTHUMUS LEONATUS The swiftest harts have posted you by land; And winds of all the comers kiss'd your sails, To make your vessel nimble. PHILARIO Welcome, sir. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS I hope the briefness of your answer made The speediness of your return. IACHIMO Your lady Is one of the fairest that I have look'd upon. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS And therewithal the best; or let her beauty Look through a casement to allure false hearts And be false with them. IACHIMO Here are letters for you. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Their tenor good, I trust. IACHIMO 'Tis very like. PHILARIO Was Caius Lucius in the Britain court When you were there? IACHIMO He was expected then, But not approach'd. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS All is well yet. Sparkles this stone as it was wont? or is't not Too dull for your good wearing? IACHIMO If I had lost it, I should have lost the worth of it in gold. I'll make a journey twice as far, to enjoy A second night of such sweet shortness which Was mine in Britain, for the ring is won. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS The stone's too hard to come by. IACHIMO Not a whit, Your lady being so easy. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Make not, sir, Your loss your sport: I hope you know that we Must not continue friends. IACHIMO Good sir, we must, If you keep covenant. Had I not brought The knowledge of your mistress home, I grant We were to question further: but I now Profess myself the winner of her honour, Together with your ring; and not the wronger Of her or you, having proceeded but By both your wills. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS If you can make't apparent That you have tasted her in bed, my hand And ring is yours; 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. IACHIMO Sir, my circumstances, Being so near the truth as I will make them, Must first induce you to believe: whose strength I will confirm with oath; which, I doubt not, You'll give me leave to spare, when you shall find You need it not. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Proceed. IACHIMO First, her bedchamber,-- Where, I confess, I slept not, but profess Had that was well worth watching--it was hang'd With tapesty 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: a piece of work So bravely done, so rich, that it did strive In workmanship and value; which I wonder'd Could be so rarely and exactly wrought, Since the true life on't was-- POSTHUMUS LEONATUS This is true; And this you might have heard of here, by me, Or by some other. IACHIMO More particulars Must justify my knowledge. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS So they must, Or do your honour injury. IACHIMO The chimney Is south the chamber, and the chimney-piece Chaste Dian bathing: never saw I figures So likely to report themselves: the cutter Was as another nature, dumb; outwent her, Motion and breath left out. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS This is a thing Which you might from relation likewise reap, Being, as it is, much spoke of. IACHIMO The roof o' the 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. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS 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. IACHIMO Then, if you can, [Showing the bracelet] Be pale: I beg but leave to air this jewel; see! And now 'tis up again: it must be married To that your diamond; I'll keep them. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Jove! Once more let me behold it: is it that Which I left with her? IACHIMO Sir--I thank her--that: She stripp'd it from her arm; I see her yet; Her pretty action did outsell her gift, And yet enrich'd it too: she gave it me, and said She prized it once. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS May be she pluck'd it off To send it me. IACHIMO She writes so to you, doth she? POSTHUMUS LEONATUS O, no, no, no! 'tis true. Here, take this too; [Gives the ring] It is a basilisk unto mine eye, Kills me to look on't. 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. O, above measure false! PHILARIO Have patience, sir, And take your ring again; 'tis not yet won: It may be probable she lost it; or Who knows if one of her women, being corrupted, Hath stol'n it from her? POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Very true; And so, I hope, he came by't. Back my ring: Render to me some corporal sign about her, More evident than this; for this was stolen. IACHIMO By Jupiter, I had it from her arm. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Hark you, he swears; by Jupiter he swears. 'Tis true:--nay, keep the ring--'tis true: I am sure She would not lose it: her attendants are All sworn and honourable:--they induced to steal it! And by a stranger!--No, he hath enjoyed her: The cognizance of her incontinency Is this: she hath bought the name of whore thus dearly. There, take thy hire; and all the fiends of hell Divide themselves between you! PHILARIO Sir, be patient: This is not strong enough to be believed Of one persuaded well of-- POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Never talk on't; She hath been colted by him. IACHIMO If you seek For further satisfying, under her breast-- Worthy the pressing--lies a mole, right proud Of that most delicate lodging: by my life, I kiss'd it; and it gave me present hunger To feed again, though full. You do remember This stain upon her? POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Ay, and it doth confirm Another stain, as big as hell can hold, Were there no more but it. IACHIMO Will you hear more? POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Spare your arithmetic: never count the turns; Once, and a million! IACHIMO I'll be sworn-- POSTHUMUS LEONATUS No swearing. If you will swear you have not done't, you lie; And I will kill thee, if thou dost deny Thou'st made me cuckold. IACHIMO I'll deny nothing. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS O, that I had her here, to tear her limb-meal! I will go there and do't, i' the court, before Her father. I'll do something-- [Exit] PHILARIO Quite besides The government of patience! You have won: Let's follow him, and pervert the present wrath He hath against himself. IACHIMO With an my heart. [Exeunt] CYMBELINE ACT II SCENE V Another room in Philario's house. [Enter POSTHUMUS LEONATUS] POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Is there no way for men to be but women Must be half-workers? We are all bastards; And that most venerable man which I Did call my father, was I know not where When I was stamp'd; some coiner with his tools Made me a counterfeit: yet my mother seem'd The Dian of that time so doth my wife The nonpareil of this. O, vengeance, vengeance! Me of my lawful pleasure she restrain'd And pray'd me oft forbearance; did it with A pudency so rosy the sweet view on't Might well have warm'd old Saturn; that I thought her As chaste as unsunn'd snow. O, all the devils! This yellow Iachimo, in an hour,--wast not?-- Or less,--at first?--perchance he spoke not, but, Like a full-acorn'd boar, a German one, Cried 'O!' and mounted; found no opposition But what he look'd for should oppose and she Should from encounter guard. 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: be it lying, note it, The woman's; flattering, hers; deceiving, hers; Lust and rank thoughts, hers, hers; revenges, hers; Ambitions, covetings, change of prides, disdain, Nice longing, slanders, mutability, All faults that may be named, nay, that hell knows, Why, hers, in part or all; but rather, all; For even to vice They are not constant but are changing still One vice, but of a minute old, for one Not half so old as that. I'll write against them, Detest them, curse them: yet 'tis greater skill In a true hate, to pray they have their will: The very devils cannot plague them better. [Exit] CYMBELINE ACT III SCENE I Britain. A hall in Cymbeline's palace. [Enter in state, CYMBELINE, QUEEN, CLOTEN, and Lords at one door, and at another, CAIUS LUCIUS and Attendants] CYMBELINE Now say, what would Augustus Caesar with us? CAIUS LUCIUS When Julius Caesar, whose remembrance yet Lives in men's eyes and will to ears and tongues Be theme and hearing ever, was in this Britain And conquer'd it, Cassibelan, thine uncle,-- Famous in Caesar's praises, no whit less Than in his feats deserving it--for him And his succession granted Rome a tribute, Yearly three thousand pounds, which by thee lately Is left untender'd. QUEEN And, to kill the marvel, Shall be so ever. CLOTEN There be many Caesars, Ere such another Julius. Britain is A world by itself; and we will nothing pay For wearing our own noses. QUEEN That opportunity Which then they had to take from 's, to resume We have again. Remember, sir, my liege, The kings your ancestors, together with The natural bravery of your isle, which stands As Neptune's park, ribbed and paled in With rocks unscalable and roaring waters, With sands that will not bear your enemies' boats, But suck them up to the topmast. A kind of conquest Caesar made here; but made not here his brag Of 'Came' and 'saw' and 'overcame: ' with shame-- That first that ever touch'd him--he was carried From off our coast, twice beaten; and his shipping-- Poor ignorant baubles!-- upon our terrible seas, Like egg-shells moved upon their surges, crack'd As easily 'gainst our rocks: for joy whereof The famed Cassibelan, who was once at point-- O giglot fortune!--to master Caesar's sword, Made Lud's town with rejoicing fires bright And Britons strut with courage. CLOTEN Come, there's no more tribute to be paid: our kingdom is stronger than it was at that time; and, as I said, there is no moe such Caesars: other of them may have crook'd noses, but to owe such straight arms, none. CYMBELINE Son, let your mother end. CLOTEN We have yet many among us can gripe as hard as Cassibelan: I do not say I am one; but I have a hand. Why tribute? why should we pay tribute? If Caesar can hide the sun from us with a blanket, or put the moon in his pocket, we will pay him tribute for light; else, sir, no more tribute, pray you now. CYMBELINE You must know, Till the injurious Romans did extort This tribute from us, we were free: Caesar's ambition, Which swell'd so much that it did almost stretch The sides o' the world, against all colour here Did put the yoke upon 's; which to shake off Becomes a warlike people, whom we reckon Ourselves to be. CLOTEN | | We do. Lords | CYMBELINE 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: Mulmutius made our laws, Who was the first of Britain which did put His brows within a golden crown and call'd Himself a king. CAIUS LUCIUS I am sorry, Cymbeline, That I am to pronounce Augustus Caesar-- Caesar, that hath more kings his servants than Thyself domestic officers--thine enemy: Receive it from me, then: war and confusion In Caesar's name pronounce I 'gainst thee: look For fury not to be resisted. Thus defied, I thank thee for myself. CYMBELINE Thou art welcome, Caius. Thy Caesar knighted me; my youth I spent Much under him; of him I gather'd honour; Which he to seek of me again, perforce, Behoves me keep at utterance. 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. CAIUS LUCIUS Let proof speak. CLOTEN His majesty bids you welcome. Make pastime with us a day or two, or longer: if you seek us afterwards in other terms, you shall find us in our salt-water girdle: 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. CAIUS LUCIUS So, sir. CYMBELINE I know your master's pleasure and he mine: All the remain is 'Welcome!' [Exeunt] CYMBELINE ACT III SCENE II Another room in the palace. [Enter PISANIO, with a letter] PISANIO How? of adultery? Wherefore write you not What monster's her accuser? Leonatus, O master! what a strange infection Is fall'n into thy ear! What false Italian, As poisonous-tongued as handed, hath prevail'd On thy too ready hearing? Disloyal! No: She's punish'd for her truth, and undergoes, More goddess-like than wife-like, such assaults As would take in some virtue. O my master! Thy mind to her is now as low as were Thy fortunes. How! that I should murder her? Upon the love and truth and vows which I Have made to thy command? I, her? her blood? If it be so to do good service, never Let me be counted serviceable. How look I, That I should seem to lack humanity so much as this fact comes to? [Reading] 'Do't: the letter that I have sent her, by her own command Shall give thee opportunity.' O damn'd paper! Black as the ink that's on thee! Senseless bauble, Art thou a feodary for this act, and look'st So virgin-like without? Lo, here she comes. I am ignorant in what I am commanded. [Enter IMOGEN] IMOGEN How now, Pisanio! PISANIO Madam, here is a letter from my lord. IMOGEN Who? thy lord? that is my lord, Leonatus! O, learn'd indeed were that astronomer That knew the stars as I his characters; He'ld lay the future open. You good gods, Let what is here contain'd relish of love, Of my lord's health, of his content, yet not That we two are asunder; let that grieve him: Some griefs are med'cinable; that is one of them, For it doth physic love: of his content, All but in that! Good wax, thy leave. Blest be You bees that make these locks of counsel! Lovers And men in dangerous bonds pray not alike: Though forfeiters you cast in prison, yet You clasp young Cupid's tables. Good news, gods! [Reads] 'Justice, and your father's wrath, should he take me in his dominion, could not be so cruel to me, as you, O the dearest of creatures, would even renew me with your eyes. Take notice that I am in Cambria, at Milford-Haven: what your own love will out of this advise you, follow. So he wishes you all happiness, that remains loyal to his vow, and your, increasing in love, LEONATUS POSTHUMUS.' O, for a horse with wings! Hear'st thou, Pisanio? He is at Milford-Haven: read, and tell me How far 'tis thither. If one of mean affairs May plod it in a week, why may not I Glide thither in a day? Then, true Pisanio,-- Who long'st, like me, to see thy lord; who long'st,-- let me bate,-but not like me--yet long'st, But in a fainter kind:--O, not like me; For mine's beyond beyond--say, and speak thick; Love's counsellor should fill the bores of hearing, To the smothering of the sense--how far it is To this same blessed Milford: and by the way Tell me how Wales was made so happy as To inherit such a haven: but first of all, How we may steal from hence, and for the gap That we shall make in time, from our hence-going And our return, to excuse: but first, how get hence: Why should excuse be born or e'er begot? We'll talk of that hereafter. Prithee, speak, How many score of miles may we well ride 'Twixt hour and hour? PISANIO One score 'twixt sun and sun, Madam, 's enough for you: [Aside] and too much too. IMOGEN Why, one that rode to's execution, man, Could never go so slow: I have heard of riding wagers, Where horses have been nimbler than the sands That run i' the clock's behalf. But this is foolery: Go bid my woman feign a sickness; say She'll home to her father: and provide me presently A riding-suit, no costlier than would fit A franklin's housewife. PISANIO Madam, you're best consider. IMOGEN I see before me, man: nor here, nor here, Nor what ensues, but have a fog in them, That I cannot look through. Away, I prithee; Do as I bid thee: there's no more to say, Accessible is none but Milford way. [Exeunt] CYMBELINE ACT III SCENE III Wales: a mountainous country with a cave. [Enter, from the cave, BELARIUS; GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS following] BELARIUS A goodly day not to keep house, with such Whose roof's as low as ours! Stoop, boys; this gate Instructs you how to adore the heavens and bows you To a morning's holy office: 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. Hail, thou fair heaven! We house i' the rock, yet use thee not so hardly As prouder livers do. GUIDERIUS Hail, heaven! ARVIRAGUS Hail, heaven! BELARIUS Now for our mountain sport: up to yond hill; Your legs are young; I'll tread these flats. 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: This service is not service, so being done, But being so allow'd: 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. O, this life Is nobler than attending for a cheque, Richer than doing nothing for a bauble, Prouder than rustling in unpaid-for silk: Such gain the cap of him that makes 'em fine, Yet keeps his book uncross'd: no life to ours. GUIDERIUS Out of your proof you speak: we, poor unfledged, Have never wing'd from view o' the nest, nor know not What air's from home. Haply this life is best, If quiet life be best; sweeter to you That have a sharper known; well corresponding With your stiff age: but unto us it is A cell of ignorance; travelling a-bed; A prison for a debtor, that not dares To stride a limit. ARVIRAGUS What should we speak of When we are old as you? when we shall hear The rain and wind beat dark December, how, In this our pinching cave, shall we discourse The freezing hours away? We have seen nothing; We are beastly, subtle as the fox for prey, Like warlike as the wolf for what we eat; Our valour is to chase what flies; our cage We make a quire, as doth the prison'd bird, And sing our bondage freely. BELARIUS How you speak! Did you but know the city's usuries And felt them knowingly; the art o' the court As hard to leave as keep; whose top to climb Is certain falling, or so slippery that The fear's as bad as falling; the toil o' the war, A pain that only seems to seek out danger I' the name of fame and honour; which dies i' the search, And hath as oft a slanderous epitaph As record of fair act; nay, many times, Doth ill deserve by doing well; what's worse, Must court'sy 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: Cymbeline loved me, And when a soldier was the theme, my name Was not far off: 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. GUIDERIUS Uncertain favour! BELARIUS 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 lived at honest freedom, paid More pious debts to heaven than in all The fore-end of my time. But up to the mountains! This is not hunters' language: he that strikes The venison first shall be the lord o' the feast; To him the other two shall minister; And we will fear no poison, which attends In place of greater state. I'll meet you in the valleys. [Exeunt GUIDERIUS and ARVIRAGUS] How hard it is to hide the sparks of nature! These boys know little they are sons to the king; Nor Cymbeline dreams that they are alive. They think they are mine; and though train'd up thus meanly I' the 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. This Polydore, The heir of Cymbeline and Britain, who The king his father call'd Guiderius,--Jove! When on my three-foot stool I sit and tell The warlike feats I have done, his spirits fly out Into my story: say 'Thus, mine enemy fell, And thus I set my foot on 's neck;' even then The princely blood flows in his cheek, he sweats, Strains his young nerves and puts himself in posture That acts my words. The younger brother, Cadwal, Once Arviragus, in as like a figure, Strikes life into my speech and shows much more His own conceiving.--Hark, the game is roused! O Cymbeline! heaven and my conscience knows Thou didst unjustly banish me: whereon, At three and two years old, I stole these babes; Thinking to bar thee of succession, as Thou reft'st me of my lands. Euriphile, Thou wast their nurse; they took thee for their mother, And every day do honour to her grave: Myself, Belarius, that am Morgan call'd, They take for natural father. The game is up. [Exit] CYMBELINE ACT III SCENE IV Country near Milford-Haven. [Enter PISANIO and IMOGEN] IMOGEN Thou told'st me, when we came from horse, the place Was near at hand: ne'er long'd my mother so To see me first, as I have now. Pisanio! man! Where is Posthumus? What is in thy mind, That makes thee stare thus? Wherefore breaks that sigh From the inward of thee? One, but painted thus, Would be interpreted a thing perplex'd Beyond self-explication: put thyself Into a havior of less fear, ere wildness Vanquish my staider senses. What's the matter? Why tender'st thou that paper to me, with A look untender? If't be summer news, Smile to't before; if winterly, thou need'st But keep that countenance still. My husband's hand! That drug-damn'd Italy hath out-craftied him, And he's at some hard point. Speak, man: thy tongue May take off some extremity, which to read Would be even mortal to me. PISANIO Please you, read; And you shall find me, wretched man, a thing The most disdain'd of fortune. IMOGEN [Reads] 'Thy mistress, Pisanio, hath played the strumpet in my bed; the testimonies whereof lie bleeding in me. I speak not out of weak surmises, but from proof as strong as my grief and as certain as I expect my revenge. That part thou, Pisanio, must act for me, if thy faith be not tainted with the breach of hers. Let thine own hands take away her life: I shall give thee opportunity at Milford-Haven. She hath my letter for the purpose where, if thou fear to strike and to make me certain it is done, thou art the pandar to her dishonour and equally to me disloyal.' PISANIO What shall I need to draw my sword? the paper Hath cut her throat already. 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: kings, queens and states, Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave This viperous slander enters. What cheer, madam? IMOGEN False to his bed! What is it to be false? To lie in watch there and to think on him? To weep 'twixt clock and clock? if sleep charge nature, To break it with a fearful dream of him And cry myself awake? that's false to's bed, is it? PISANIO Alas, good lady! IMOGEN I false! Thy conscience witness: Iachimo, Thou didst accuse him of incontinency; Thou then look'dst like a villain; now methinks Thy favour's good enough. Some jay of Italy Whose mother was her painting, hath betray'd him: Poor I am stale, a garment out of fashion; And, for I am richer than to hang by the walls, I must be ripp'd:--to pieces with me!--O, Men's vows are women's traitors! All good seeming, By thy revolt, O husband, shall be thought Put on for villany; not born where't grows, But worn a bait for ladies. PISANIO Good madam, hear me. IMOGEN True honest men being heard, like false Aeneas, Were in his time thought false, and Sinon's weeping Did scandal many a holy tear, took pity From most true wretchedness: so thou, Posthumus, Wilt lay the leaven on all proper men; Goodly and gallant shall be false and perjured From thy great fall. Come, fellow, be thou honest: Do thou thy master's bidding: when thou see'st him, A little witness my obedience: 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: do his bidding; strike Thou mayst be valiant in a better cause; But now thou seem'st a coward. PISANIO Hence, vile instrument! Thou shalt not damn my hand. IMOGEN Why, I must die; And if I do not by thy hand, thou art No servant of thy master's. Against self-slaughter There is a prohibition so divine That cravens my weak hand. Come, here's my heart. Something's afore't. Soft, soft! we'll no defence; Obedient as the scabbard. What is here? The scriptures of the loyal Leonatus, All turn'd to heresy? Away, away, Corrupters of my faith! you shall no more Be stomachers to my heart. Thus may poor fools Believe false teachers: though those that are betray'd Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor Stands in worse case of woe. And thou, Posthumus, thou 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 disedged by her That now thou tirest on, how thy memory Will then be pang'd by me. Prithee, dispatch: The lamb entreats the butcher: where's thy knife? Thou art too slow to do thy master's bidding, When I desire it too. PISANIO O gracious lady, Since I received command to do this business I have not slept one wink. IMOGEN Do't, and to bed then. PISANIO I'll wake mine eye-balls blind first. IMOGEN Wherefore then Didst undertake it? Why hast thou abused So many miles with a pretence? this place? Mine action and thine own? our horses' labour? The time inviting thee? the perturb'd court, For my being absent? whereunto I never Purpose return. Why hast thou gone so far, To be unbent when thou hast ta'en thy stand, The elected deer before thee? PISANIO But to win time To lose so bad employment; in the which I have consider'd of a course. Good lady, Hear me with patience. IMOGEN Talk thy tongue weary; speak I have heard I am a strumpet; and mine ear Therein false struck, can take no greater wound, Nor tent to bottom that. But speak. PISANIO Then, madam, I thought you would not back again. IMOGEN Most like; Bringing me here to kill me. PISANIO Not so, neither: But if I were as wise as honest, then My purpose would prove well. It cannot be But that my master is abused: Some villain, ay, and singular in his art. Hath done you both this cursed injury. IMOGEN Some Roman courtezan. PISANIO No, on my life. I'll give but notice you are dead and send him Some bloody sign of it; for 'tis commanded I should do so: you shall be miss'd at court, And that will well confirm it. IMOGEN Why good fellow, What shall I do the where? where bide? how live? Or in my life what comfort, when I am Dead to my husband? PISANIO If you'll back to the court-- IMOGEN No court, no father; nor no more ado With that harsh, noble, simple nothing, That Cloten, whose love-suit hath been to me As fearful as a siege. PISANIO If not at court, Then not in Britain must you bide. IMOGEN Where then Hath Britain all the sun that shines? Day, night, Are they not but in Britain? I' the world's volume Our Britain seems as of it, but not in 't; In a great pool a swan's nest: prithee, think There's livers out of Britain. PISANIO I am most glad You think of other place. The ambassador, Lucius the Roman, comes to Milford-Haven To-morrow: now, if you could wear a mind Dark as your fortune is, and but disguise That which, to appear itself, must not yet be But by self-danger, you should tread a course Pretty and full of view; yea, haply, near The residence of Posthumus; so nigh at least That though his actions were not visible, yet Report should render him hourly to your ear As truly as he moves. IMOGEN O, for such means! Though peril to my modesty, not death on't, I would adventure. PISANIO Well, then, here's the point: You must forget to be a woman; change Command into obedience: fear and niceness-- The handmaids of all women, or, more truly, Woman its pretty self--into a waggish courage: Ready in gibes, quick-answer'd, saucy and As quarrelous as the weasel; nay, you must Forget that rarest treasure of your cheek, Exposing it--but, O, the harder heart! Alack, no remedy!--to the greedy touch Of common-kissing Titan, and forget Your laboursome and dainty trims, wherein You made great Juno angry. IMOGEN Nay, be brief I see into thy end, and am almost A man already. PISANIO First, make yourself but like one. Fore-thinking this, I have already fit-- 'Tis in my cloak-bag--doublet, hat, hose, all That answer to them: would you in their serving, And with what imitation you can borrow From youth of such a season, 'fore noble Lucius Present yourself, desire his service, tell him wherein you're happy,--which you'll make him know, If that his head have ear in music,--doubtless With joy he will embrace you, for he's honourable And doubling that, most holy. Your means abroad, You have me, rich; and I will never fail Beginning nor supplyment. IMOGEN Thou art all the comfort The gods will diet me with. Prithee, away: There's more to be consider'd; but we'll even All that good time will give us: this attempt I am soldier to, and will abide it with A prince's courage. Away, I prithee. PISANIO Well, madam, we must take a short farewell, Lest, being miss'd, I be suspected of Your carriage from the court. My noble mistress, Here is a box; I had it from the queen: What's in't is precious; if you are sick at sea, Or stomach-qualm'd at land, a dram of this Will drive away distemper. To some shade, And fit you to your manhood. May the gods Direct you to the best! IMOGEN Amen: I thank thee. [Exeunt, severally] CYMBELINE ACT III SCENE V A room in Cymbeline's palace. [Enter CYMBELINE, QUEEN, CLOTEN, LUCIUS, Lords, and Attendants] CYMBELINE Thus far; and so farewell. CAIUS LUCIUS Thanks, royal sir. My emperor hath wrote, I must from hence; And am right sorry that I must report ye My master's enemy. CYMBELINE Our subjects, sir, Will not endure his yoke; and for ourself To show less sovereignty than they, must needs Appear unkinglike. CAIUS LUCIUS So, sir: I desire of you A conduct over-land to Milford-Haven. Madam, all joy befal your grace! QUEEN And you! CYMBELINE My lords, you are appointed for that office; The due of honour in no point omit. So farewell, noble Lucius. CAIUS LUCIUS Your hand, my lord. CLOTEN Receive it friendly; but from this time forth I wear it as your enemy. CAIUS LUCIUS Sir, the event Is yet to name the winner: fare you well. CYMBELINE Leave not the worthy Lucius, good my lords, Till he have cross'd the Severn. Happiness! [Exeunt LUCIUS and Lords] QUEEN He goes hence frowning: but it honours us That we have given him cause. CLOTEN 'Tis all the better; Your valiant Britons have their wishes in it. CYMBELINE Lucius hath wrote already to the emperor How it goes here. It fits us therefore ripely Our chariots and our horsemen be in readiness: The powers that he already hath in Gallia Will soon be drawn to head, from whence he moves His war for Britain. QUEEN 'Tis not sleepy business; But must be look'd to speedily and strongly. CYMBELINE Our expectation that it would be thus Hath made us forward. 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: she looks us like A thing more made of malice than of duty: We have noted it. Call her before us; for We have been too slight in sufferance. [Exit an Attendant] QUEEN Royal sir, Since the exile of Posthumus, most retired Hath her life been; the cure whereof, my lord, 'Tis time must do. Beseech your majesty, Forbear sharp speeches to her: she's a lady So tender of rebukes that words are strokes And strokes death to her. [Re-enter Attendant] CYMBELINE Where is she, sir? How Can her contempt be answer'd? Attendant Please you, sir, Her chambers are all lock'd; and there's no answer That will be given to the loudest noise we make. QUEEN My lord, when last I went to visit her, She pray'd me to excuse her keeping close, Whereto constrain'd by her infirmity, She should that duty leave unpaid to you, Which daily she was bound to proffer: this She wish'd me to make known; but our great court Made me to blame in memory. CYMBELINE Her doors lock'd? Not seen of late? Grant, heavens, that which I fear Prove false! [Exit] QUEEN Son, I say, follow the king. CLOTEN That man of hers, Pisanio, her old servant, have not seen these two days. QUEEN Go, look after. [Exit CLOTEN] Pisanio, thou that stand'st so for Posthumus! He hath a drug of mine; I pray his absence Proceed by swallowing that, for he believes It is a thing most precious. But for her, Where is she gone? Haply, despair hath seized her, Or, wing'd with fervor of her love, she's flown To her desired Posthumus: gone she is To death or to dishonour; and my end Can make good use of either: she being down, I have the placing of the British crown. [Re-enter CLOTEN] How now, my son! CLOTEN 'Tis certain she is fled. Go in and cheer the king: he rages; none Dare come about him. QUEEN [Aside] All the better: may This night forestall him of the coming day! [Exit] CLOTEN I love and hate her: for she's fair and royal, And that she hath all courtly parts more exquisite Than lady, ladies, woman; from every one The best she hath, and she, of all compounded, Outsells them all; I love her therefore: but Disdaining me and throwing favours on The low Posthumus slanders so her judgment That what's else rare is choked; and in that point I will conclude to hate her, nay, indeed, To be revenged upon her. 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. PISANIO O, good my lord! CLOTEN Where is thy lady? Or, by Jupiter,-- I will not ask again. Close villain, I'll have this secret from thy heart, or rip Thy heart to find it. Is she with Posthumus? From whose so many weights of baseness cannot A dram of worth be drawn. PISANIO Alas, my lord, How can she be with him? When was she missed? He is in Rome. CLOTEN Where is she, sir? Come nearer; No further halting: satisfy me home What is become of her. PISANIO O, my all-worthy lord! CLOTEN All-worthy villain! Discover where thy mistress is at once, At the next word: no more of 'worthy lord!' Speak, or thy silence on the instant is Thy condemnation and thy death. PISANIO Then, sir, This paper is the history of my knowledge Touching her flight. [Presenting a letter] CLOTEN Let's see't. I will pursue her Even to Augustus' throne. PISANIO [Aside] Or this, or perish. She's far enough; and what he learns by this May prove his travel, not her danger. CLOTEN Hum! PISANIO [Aside] I'll write to my lord she's dead. O Imogen, Safe mayst thou wander, safe return again! CLOTEN Sirrah, is this letter true? PISANIO Sir, as I think. CLOTEN It is Posthumus' hand; I know't. Sirrah, if thou wouldst not be a villain, but do me true service, undergo those employments wherein I should have cause to use thee with a serious industry, that is, what villany soe'er I bid thee do, to perform it directly and truly, I would think thee an honest man: thou shouldst neither want my means for thy relief nor my voice for thy preferment. PISANIO Well, my good lord. CLOTEN Wilt thou serve me? for since patiently and constantly thou hast stuck to the bare fortune of that beggar Posthumus, thou canst not, in the course of gratitude, but be a diligent follower of mine: wilt thou serve me? PISANIO Sir, I will. CLOTEN Give me thy hand; here's my purse. Hast any of thy late master's garments in thy possession? PISANIO I have, my lord, at my lodging, the same suit he wore when he took leave of my lady and mistress. CLOTEN The first service thou dost me, fetch that suit hither: let it be thy lint service; go. PISANIO I shall, my lord. [Exit] CLOTEN Meet thee at Milford-Haven!--I forgot to ask him one thing; I'll remember't anon:--even there, thou villain Posthumus, will I kill thee. I would these garments were come. 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. With that suit upon my back, will I ravish her: first kill him, and in her eyes; there shall she see my valour, which will then be a torment to her contempt. He on the ground, my speech of insultment ended on his dead body, and when my lust hath dined,--which, as I say, to vex her I will execute in the clothes that she so praised,--to the court I'll knock her back, foot her home again. She hath despised me rejoicingly, and I'll be merry in my revenge. [Re-enter PISANIO, with the clothes] Be those the garments? PISANIO Ay, my noble lord. CLOTEN How long is't since she went to Milford-Haven? PISANIO She can scarce be there yet. CLOTEN Bring this apparel to my chamber; that is the second thing that I have commanded thee: the third is, that thou wilt be a voluntary mute to my design. Be but duteous, and true preferment shall tender itself to thee. My revenge is now at Milford: would I had wings to follow it! Come, and be true. [Exit] PISANIO Thou bid'st me to my loss: for true to thee Were to prove false, which I will never be, To him that is most true. To Milford go, And find not her whom thou pursuest. Flow, flow, You heavenly blessings, on her! This fool's speed Be cross'd with slowness; labour be his meed! [Exit] CYMBELINE ACT III SCENE VI Wales. Before the cave of Belarius. [Enter IMOGEN, in boy's clothes] IMOGEN I see a man's life is a tedious one: I have tired myself, and for two nights together Have made the ground my bed. I should be sick, But that my resolution helps me. Milford, When from the mountain-top Pisanio show'd thee, Thou wast within a ken: O Jove! I think Foundations fly the wretched; such, I mean, Where they should be relieved. Two beggars told me I could not miss my way: will poor folks lie, That have afflictions on them, knowing 'tis A punishment or trial? Yes; no wonder, When rich ones scarce tell true. To lapse in fulness Is sorer than to lie for need, and falsehood Is worse in kings than beggars. My dear lord! Thou art one o' the false ones. Now I think on thee, My hunger's gone; but even before, I was At point to sink for food. But what is this? Here is a path to't: 'tis some savage hold: I were best not to call; I dare not call: yet famine, Ere clean it o'erthrow nature, makes it valiant, Plenty and peace breeds cowards: hardness ever Of hardiness is mother. Ho! who's here? If any thing that's civil, speak; if savage, Take or lend. Ho! No answer? Then I'll enter. Best draw my sword: and if mine enemy But fear the sword like me, he'll scarcely look on't. Such a foe, good heavens! [Exit, to the cave] [Enter BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS] BELARIUS You, Polydote, have proved best woodman and Are master of the feast: Cadwal and I Will play the cook and servant; 'tis our match: The sweat of industry would dry and die, But for the end it works to. Come; our stomachs Will make what's homely savoury: weariness Can snore upon the flint, when resty sloth Finds the down pillow hard. Now peace be here, Poor house, that keep'st thyself! GUIDERIUS I am thoroughly weary. ARVIRAGUS I am weak with toil, yet strong in appetite. GUIDERIUS There is cold meat i' the cave; we'll browse on that, Whilst what we have kill'd be cook'd. BELARIUS [Looking into the cave] Stay; come not in. But that it eats our victuals, I should think Here were a fairy. GUIDERIUS What's the matter, sir? BELARIUS By Jupiter, an angel! or, if not, An earthly paragon! Behold divineness No elder than a boy! [Re-enter IMOGEN] IMOGEN Good masters, harm me not: Before I enter'd here, I call'd; and thought To have begg'd or bought what I have took: good troth, I have stol'n nought, nor would not, though I had found Gold strew'd i' the floor. Here's money for my meat: I would have left it on the board so soon As I had made my meal, and parted With prayers for the provider. GUIDERIUS Money, youth? ARVIRAGUS All gold and silver rather turn to dirt! As 'tis no better reckon'd, but of those Who worship dirty gods. IMOGEN I see you're angry: Know, if you kill me for my fault, I should Have died had I not made it. BELARIUS Whither bound? IMOGEN To Milford-Haven. BELARIUS What's your name? IMOGEN Fidele, sir. I have a kinsman who Is bound for Italy; he embark'd at Milford; To whom being going, almost spent with hunger, I am fall'n in this offence. BELARIUS Prithee, fair youth, Think us no churls, nor measure our good minds By this rude place we live in. Well encounter'd! 'Tis almost night: you shall have better cheer Ere you depart: and thanks to stay and eat it. Boys, bid him welcome. GUIDERIUS Were you a woman, youth, I should woo hard but be your groom. In honesty, I bid for you as I'd buy. ARVIRAGUS I'll make't my comfort He is a man; I'll love him as my brother: And such a welcome as I'd give to him After long absence, such is yours: most welcome! Be sprightly, for you fall 'mongst friends. IMOGEN 'Mongst friends, If brothers. [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. BELARIUS He wrings at some distress. GUIDERIUS Would I could free't! ARVIRAGUS Or I, whate'er it be, What pain it cost, what danger. God's! BELARIUS Hark, boys. [Whispering] IMOGEN 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. Pardon me, gods! I'd change my sex to be companion with them, Since Leonatus's false. BELARIUS It shall be so. Boys, we'll go dress our hunt. Fair youth, come in: Discourse is heavy, fasting; when we have supp'd, We'll mannerly demand thee of thy story, So far as thou wilt speak it. GUIDERIUS Pray, draw near. ARVIRAGUS The night to the owl and morn to the lark less welcome. IMOGEN Thanks, sir. ARVIRAGUS I pray, draw near. [Exeunt] CYMBELINE ACT III SCENE VII Rome. A public place. [Enter two Senators and Tribunes] First Senator This is the tenor of the emperor's writ: 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. He creates Lucius preconsul: and to you the tribunes, For this immediate levy, he commends His absolute commission. Long live Caesar! First Tribune Is Lucius general of the forces? Second Senator Ay. First Tribune Remaining now in Gallia? First Senator With those legions Which I have spoke of, whereunto your levy Must be supplyant: the words of your commission Will tie you to the numbers and the time Of their dispatch. First Tribune We will discharge our duty. [Exeunt] CYMBELINE ACT IV SCENE I Wales: near the cave of Belarius. [Enter CLOTEN] CLOTEN I am near to the place where they should meet, if Pisanio have mapped it truly. How fit his garments serve me! Why should his mistress, who was made by him that made the tailor, not be fit too? the rather--saving reverence of the word--for 'tis said a woman's fitness comes by fits. Therein I must play the workman. I dare speak it to myself--for it is not vain-glory for a man and his glass to confer in his own chamber--I mean, the lines of my body are as well drawn as his; no less young, more strong, not beneath him in fortunes, beyond him in the advantage of the time, above him in birth, alike conversant in general services, and more remarkable in single oppositions: yet this imperceiverant thing loves him in my despite. What mortality is! Posthumus, thy head, which now is growing upon thy shoulders, shall within this hour be off; thy mistress enforced; thy garments cut to pieces before thy face: and all this done, spurn her home to her father; who may haply be a little angry for my so rough usage; but my mother, having power of his testiness, shall turn all into my commendations. My horse is tied up safe: out, sword, and to a sore purpose! Fortune, put them into my hand! This is the very description of their meeting-place; and the fellow dares not deceive me. [Exit] CYMBELINE ACT IV SCENE II Before the cave of Belarius. [Enter, from the cave, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, ARVIRAGUS, and IMOGEN] BELARIUS [To IMOGEN] You are not well: remain here in the cave; We'll come to you after hunting. ARVIRAGUS [To IMOGEN] Brother, stay here Are we not brothers? IMOGEN So man and man should be; But clay and clay differs in dignity, Whose dust is both alike. I am very sick. GUIDERIUS Go you to hunting; I'll abide with him. IMOGEN So sick I am not, yet I am not well; But not so citizen a wanton as To seem to die ere sick: so please you, leave me; Stick to your journal course: the breach of custom Is breach of all. I am ill, but your being by me Cannot amend me; society is no comfort To one not sociable: I am not very sick, Since I can reason of it. Pray you, trust me here: I'll rob none but myself; and let me die, Stealing so poorly. GUIDERIUS I love thee; I have spoke it How much the quantity, the weight as much, As I do love my father. BELARIUS What! how! how! ARVIRAGUS If it be sin to say so, I yoke me In my good brother's fault: I know not why I love this youth; and I have heard you say, Love's reason's without reason: the bier at door, And a demand who is't shall die, I'd say 'My father, not this youth.' BELARIUS [Aside] O noble strain! O worthiness of nature! breed of greatness! Cowards father cowards and base things sire base: Nature hath meal and bran, contempt and grace. I'm not their father; yet who this should be, Doth miracle itself, loved before me. 'Tis the ninth hour o' the morn. ARVIRAGUS Brother, farewell. IMOGEN I wish ye sport. ARVIRAGUS You health. So please you, sir. IMOGEN [Aside] These are kind creatures. Gods, what lies I have heard! Our courtiers say all's savage but at court: Experience, O, thou disprovest report! The imperious seas breed monsters, for the dish Poor tributary rivers as sweet fish. I am sick still; heart-sick. Pisanio, I'll now taste of thy drug. [Swallows some] GUIDERIUS I could not stir him: He said he was gentle, but unfortunate; Dishonestly afflicted, but yet honest. ARVIRAGUS Thus did he answer me: yet said, hereafter I might know more. BELARIUS To the field, to the field! We'll leave you for this time: go in and rest. ARVIRAGUS We'll not be long away. BELARIUS Pray, be not sick, For you must be our housewife. IMOGEN Well or ill, I am bound to you. BELARIUS And shalt be ever. [Exit IMOGEN, to the cave] This youth, how'er distress'd, appears he hath had Good ancestors. ARVIRAGUS How angel-like he sings! GUIDERIUS But his neat cookery! he cut our roots In characters, And sauced our broths, as Juno had been sick And he her dieter. ARVIRAGUS Nobly he yokes A smiling with a sigh, as if the sigh Was that it was, for not being such a smile; The smile mocking the sigh, that it would fly From so divine a temple, to commix With winds that sailors rail at. GUIDERIUS I do note That grief and patience, rooted in him both, Mingle their spurs together. ARVIRAGUS Grow, patience! And let the stinking elder, grief, untwine His perishing root with the increasing vine! BELARIUS It is great morning. Come, away!-- Who's there? [Enter CLOTEN] CLOTEN I cannot find those runagates; that villain Hath mock'd me. I am faint. BELARIUS 'Those runagates!' Means he not us? I partly know him: 'tis Cloten, the son o' the queen. I fear some ambush. I saw him not these many years, and yet I know 'tis he. We are held as outlaws: hence! GUIDERIUS He is but one: you and my brother search What companies are near: pray you, away; Let me alone with him. [Exeunt BELARIUS and ARVIRAGUS] CLOTEN Soft! What are you That fly me thus? some villain mountaineers? I have heard of such. What slave art thou? GUIDERIUS A thing More slavish did I ne'er than answering A slave without a knock. CLOTEN Thou art a robber, A law-breaker, a villain: yield thee, thief. GUIDERIUS To who? to thee? What art thou? Have not I An arm as big as thine? a heart as big? Thy words, I grant, are bigger, for I wear not My dagger in my mouth. Say what thou art, Why I should yield to thee? CLOTEN Thou villain base, Know'st me not by my clothes? GUIDERIUS No, nor thy tailor, rascal, Who is thy grandfather: he made those clothes, Which, as it seems, make thee. CLOTEN Thou precious varlet, My tailor made them not. GUIDERIUS Hence, then, and thank The man that gave them thee. Thou art some fool; I am loath to beat thee. CLOTEN Thou injurious thief, Hear but my name, and tremble. GUIDERIUS What's thy name? CLOTEN Cloten, thou villain. GUIDERIUS Cloten, thou double villain, be thy name, I cannot tremble at it: were it Toad, or Adder, Spider, 'Twould move me sooner. CLOTEN To thy further fear, Nay, to thy mere confusion, thou shalt know I am son to the queen. GUIDERIUS I am sorry for 't; not seeming So worthy as thy birth. CLOTEN Art not afeard? GUIDERIUS Those that I reverence those I fear, the wise: At fools I laugh, not fear them. CLOTEN Die the death: 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: Yield, rustic mountaineer. [Exeunt, fighting] [Re-enter BELARIUS and ARVIRAGUS] BELARIUS No companies abroad? ARVIRAGUS None in the world: you did mistake him, sure. BELARIUS I cannot tell: long is it since I saw him, But time hath nothing blurr'd those lines of favour Which then he wore; the snatches in his voice, And burst of speaking, were as his: I am absolute 'Twas very Cloten. ARVIRAGUS In this place we left them: I wish my brother make good time with him, You say he is so fell. BELARIUS Being scarce made up, I mean, to man, he had not apprehension Of roaring terrors; for the effect of judgment Is oft the cause of fear. But, see, thy brother. [Re-enter GUIDERIUS, with CLOTEN'S head] GUIDERIUS This Cloten was a fool, an empty purse; There was no money in't: not Hercules Could have knock'd out his brains, for he had none: Yet I not doing this, the fool had borne My head as I do his. BELARIUS What hast thou done? GUIDERIUS I am perfect what: 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'ld take us in Displace our heads where--thank the gods!--they grow, And set them on Lud's-town. BELARIUS We are all undone. GUIDERIUS Why, worthy father, what have we to lose, But that he swore to take, our lives? The law Protects not us: then why should we be tender To let an arrogant piece of flesh threat us, Play judge and executioner all himself, For we do fear the law? What company Discover you abroad? BELARIUS No single soul Can we set eye on; but in all safe reason He must have some attendants. Though his humour Was nothing but mutation, ay, and that From one bad thing to worse; not frenzy, not Absolute madness could so far have raved To bring him here alone; 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'ld 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. ARVIRAGUS Let ordinance Come as the gods foresay it: howsoe'er, My brother hath done well. BELARIUS I had no mind To hunt this day: the boy Fidele's sickness Did make my way long forth. GUIDERIUS With his own sword, Which he did wave against my throat, I have ta'en His head from him: 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: That's all I reck. [Exit] BELARIUS I fear 'twill be revenged: Would, Polydote, thou hadst not done't! though valour Becomes thee well enough. ARVIRAGUS Would I had done't So the revenge alone pursued me! Polydore, I love thee brotherly, but envy much Thou hast robb'd me of this deed: I would revenges, That possible strength might meet, would seek us through And put us to our answer. BELARIUS Well, 'tis done: We'll hunt no more to-day, nor seek for danger Where there's no profit. I prithee, to our rock; You and Fidele play the cooks: I'll stay Till hasty Polydote return, and bring him To dinner presently. ARVIRAGUS Poor sick Fidele! I'll weringly to him: to gain his colour I'ld let a parish of such Clotens' blood, And praise myself for charity. [Exit] BELARIUS O thou goddess, Thou divine Nature, how thyself thou blazon'st In these two princely boys! They are as gentle As zephyrs blowing below the violet, Not wagging his sweet head; and yet as rough, Their royal blood enchafed, as the rudest wind, That by the top doth take the mountain pine, And make him stoop to the vale. 'Tis wonder That an invisible instinct should frame them To royalty unlearn'd, honour untaught, Civility not seen from other, valour That wildly grows in them, but yields a crop As if it had been sow'd. Yet still it's strange What Cloten's being here to us portends, Or what his death will bring us. [Re-enter GUIDERIUS] GUIDERIUS Where's my brother? I have sent Cloten's clotpoll down the stream, In embassy to his mother: his body's hostage For his return. [Solemn music] BELARIUS My ingenious instrument! Hark, Polydore, it sounds! But what occasion Hath Cadwal now to give it motion? Hark! GUIDERIUS Is he at home? BELARIUS He went hence even now. GUIDERIUS What does he mean? since death of my dear'st mother it did not speak before. All solemn things Should answer solemn accidents. The matter? Triumphs for nothing and lamenting toys Is jollity for apes and grief for boys. Is Cadwal mad? BELARIUS Look, here he comes, And brings the dire occasion in his arms Of what we blame him for. [Re-enter ARVIRAGUS, with IMOGEN, as dead, bearing her in his arms] ARVIRAGUS The bird is dead That we have made so much on. I had rather Have skipp'd from sixteen years of age to sixty, To have turn'd my leaping-time into a crutch, Than have seen this. GUIDERIUS O sweetest, fairest lily! My brother wears thee not the one half so well As when thou grew'st thyself. BELARIUS O melancholy! Who ever yet could sound thy bottom? find The ooze, to show what coast thy sluggish crare Might easiliest harbour in? Thou blessed thing! Jove knows what man thou mightst have made; but I, Thou diedst, a most rare boy, of melancholy. How found you him? ARVIRAGUS Stark, as you see: Thus smiling, as some fly hid tickled slumber, Not as death's dart, being laugh'd at; his right cheek Reposing on a cushion. GUIDERIUS Where? ARVIRAGUS O' the floor; His arms thus leagued: I thought he slept, and put My clouted brogues from off my feet, whose rudeness Answer'd my steps too loud. GUIDERIUS Why, he but sleeps: 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. ARVIRAGUS With fairest flowers Whilst summer lasts and I live here, Fidele, I'll sweeten thy sad grave: thou shalt not lack The flower that's like thy face, pale primrose, nor The azured harebell, like thy veins, no, nor The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander, Out-sweeten'd not thy breath: the ruddock would, With charitable bill,--O bill, sore-shaming Those rich-left heirs that let their fathers lie Without a monument!--bring thee all this; Yea, and furr'd moss besides, when flowers are none, To winter-ground thy corse. GUIDERIUS Prithee, have done; And do not play in wench-like words with that Which is so serious. Let us bury him, And not protract with admiration what Is now due debt. To the grave! ARVIRAGUS Say, where shall's lay him? GUIDERIUS By good Euriphile, our mother. ARVIRAGUS Be't so: And let us, Polydore, though now our voices Have got the mannish crack, sing him to the ground, As once our mother; use like note and words, Save that Euriphile must be Fidele. GUIDERIUS Cadwal, I cannot sing: I'll weep, and word it with thee; For notes of sorrow out of tune are worse Than priests and fanes that lie. ARVIRAGUS We'll speak it, then. BELARIUS Great griefs, I see, medicine the less; for Cloten Is quite forgot. He was a queen's son, boys; And though he came our enemy, remember He was paid for that: though mean and mighty, rotting Together, have one dust, yet reverence, That angel of the world, doth make distinction Of place 'tween high and low. Our foe was princely And though you took his life, as being our foe, Yet bury him as a prince. GUIDERIUS Pray You, fetch him hither. Thersites' body is as good as Ajax', When neither are alive. ARVIRAGUS If you'll go fetch him, We'll say our song the whilst. Brother, begin. [Exit BELARIUS] GUIDERIUS Nay, Cadwal, we must lay his head to the east; My father hath a reason for't. ARVIRAGUS 'Tis true. GUIDERIUS Come on then, and remove him. ARVIRAGUS So. Begin. [SONG] GUIDERIUS Fear no more the heat o' the sun, Nor the furious winter's rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages: Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. ARVIRAGUS Fear no more the frown o' the great; Thou art past the tyrant's stroke; Care no more to clothe and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak: The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust. GUIDERIUS Fear no more the lightning flash, ARVIRAGUS Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone; GUIDERIUS Fear not slander, censure rash; ARVIRAGUS Thou hast finish'd joy and moan: GUIDERIUS | | All lovers young, all lovers must ARVIRAGUS | Consign to thee, and come to dust. GUIDERIUS No exorciser harm thee! ARVIRAGUS Nor no witchcraft charm thee! GUIDERIUS Ghost unlaid forbear thee! ARVIRAGUS Nothing ill come near thee! GUIDERIUS | | Quiet consummation have; ARVIRAGUS | And renowned be thy grave! [Re-enter BELARIUS, with the body of CLOTEN] GUIDERIUS We have done our obsequies: come, lay him down. BELARIUS Here's a few flowers; but 'bout midnight, more: The herbs that have on them cold dew o' the night Are strewings fitt'st for graves. Upon their faces. You were as flowers, now wither'd: even so These herblets shall, which we upon you strew. Come on, away: apart upon our knees. The ground that gave them first has them again: Their pleasures here are past, so is their pain. [Exeunt BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS] IMOGEN [Awaking] Yes, sir, to Milford-Haven; which is the way?-- I thank you.--By yond bush?--Pray, how far thither? 'Ods pittikins! can it be six mile yet?-- I have gone all night. 'Faith, I'll lie down and sleep. But, soft! no bedfellow!--O gods and goddesses! [Seeing the body of CLOTEN] These flowers are like the pleasures of the world; This bloody man, the care on't. I hope I dream; For so I thought I was a cave-keeper, And cook to honest creatures: but 'tis not so; 'Twas but a bolt of nothing, shot at nothing, Which the brain makes of fumes: our very eyes Are sometimes like our judgments, blind. Good faith, I tremble stiff 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: even when I wake, it is Without me, as within me; not imagined, felt. A headless man! The garments of Posthumus! I know the shape of's leg: this is his hand; His foot Mercurial; his Martial thigh; The brawns of Hercules: but his Jovial face Murder in heaven?--How!--'Tis gone. Pisanio, All curses madded Hecuba gave the Greeks, And mine to boot, be darted on thee! Thou, Conspired with that irregulous devil, Cloten, Hast here cut off my lord. 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! O Posthumus! alas, Where is thy head? where's that? Ay me! where's that? Pisanio might have kill'd thee at the heart, And left this head on. How should this be? Pisanio? 'Tis he and Cloten: malice and lucre in them Have laid this woe here. O, 'tis pregnant, pregnant! The drug he gave me, which he said was precious And cordial to me, have I not found it Murderous to the senses? That confirms it home: This is Pisanio's deed, and Cloten's: O! Give colour to my pale cheek with thy blood, That we the horrider may seem to those Which chance to find us: O, my lord, my lord! [Falls on the body] [Enter LUCIUS, a Captain and other Officers, and a Soothsayer] Captain To them the legions garrison'd in Gailia, After your will, have cross'd the sea, attending You here at Milford-Haven with your ships: They are in readiness. CAIUS LUCIUS But what from Rome? Captain 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, Syenna's brother. CAIUS LUCIUS When expect you them? Captain With the next benefit o' the wind. CAIUS LUCIUS This forwardness Makes our hopes fair. Command our present numbers Be muster'd; bid the captains look to't. Now, sir, What have you dream'd of late of this war's purpose? Soothsayer Last night the very gods show'd me a vision-- I fast and pray'd for their intelligence--thus: I saw Jove's bird, the Roman eagle, wing'd From the spongy south to this part of the west, There vanish'd in the sunbeams: which portends-- Unless my sins abuse my divination-- Success to the Roman host. CAIUS LUCIUS Dream often so, And never false. Soft, ho! what trunk is here Without his top? The ruin speaks that sometime It was a worthy building. 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. Let's see the boy's face. Captain He's alive, my lord. CAIUS LUCIUS He'll then instruct us of this body. Young one, Inform us of thy fortunes, for it seems They crave to be demanded. Who is this Thou makest thy bloody pillow? Or who was he That, otherwise than noble nature did, Hath alter'd that good picture? What's thy interest In this sad wreck? How came it? Who is it? What art thou? IMOGEN I am nothing: or if not, Nothing to be were better. This was my master, A very valiant Briton and a good, That here by mountaineers lies slain. Alas! There is no more such masters: I may wander From east to occident, cry out for service, Try many, all good, serve truly, never Find such another master. CAIUS LUCIUS 'Lack, good youth! Thou movest no less with thy complaining than Thy master in bleeding: say his name, good friend. IMOGEN Richard du Champ. [Aside] If I do lie and do No harm by it, though the gods hear, I hope They'll pardon it.--Say you, sir? CAIUS LUCIUS Thy name? IMOGEN Fidele, sir. CAIUS LUCIUS Thou dost approve thyself the very same: Thy name well fits thy faith, thy faith thy name. Wilt take thy chance with me? I will not say Thou shalt be so well master'd, but, be sure, No less beloved. The Roman emperor's letters, Sent by a consul to me, should not sooner Than thine own worth prefer thee: go with me. IMOGEN I'll follow, sir. But first, an't please the gods, I'll hide my master from the flies, as deep As these poor pickaxes can dig; and when With wild wood-leaves and weeds I ha' strew'd his grave, And on it said a century of prayers, Such as I can, twice o'er, I'll weep and sigh; And leaving so his service, follow you, So please you entertain me. CAIUS LUCIUS Ay, good youth! And rather father thee than master thee. My friends, The boy hath taught us manly duties: let us Find out the prettiest daisied plot we can, And make him with our pikes and partisans A grave: come, arm him. Boy, he is preferr'd By thee to us, and he shall be interr'd As soldiers can. Be cheerful; wipe thine eyes Some falls are means the happier to arise. [Exeunt] CYMBELINE ACT IV SCENE III A room in Cymbeline's palace. [Enter CYMBELINE, Lords, PISANIO, and Attendants] CYMBELINE Again; and bring me word how 'tis with her. [Exit an Attendant] A fever with the absence of her son, A madness, of which her life's in danger. Heavens, How deeply you at once do touch me! Imogen, The great part of my comfort, gone; my queen Upon a desperate bed, and in a time When fearful wars point at me; her son gone, So needful for this present: it strikes me, past The hope of comfort. But for thee, fellow, Who needs must know of her departure and Dost seem so ignorant, we'll enforce it from thee By a sharp torture. PISANIO Sir, my life is yours; I humbly set it at your will; but, for my mistress, I nothing know where she remains, why gone, Nor when she purposes return. Beseech your highness, Hold me your loyal servant. First Lord Good my liege, The day that she was missing he was here: I dare be bound he's true and shall perform All parts of his subjection loyally. For Cloten, There wants no diligence in seeking him, And will, no doubt, be found. CYMBELINE The time is troublesome. [To PISANIO] We'll slip you for a season; but our jealousy Does yet depend. First Lord 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. CYMBELINE Now for the counsel of my son and queen! I am amazed with matter. First Lord Good my liege, Your preparation can affront no less Than what you hear of: come more, for more you're ready: The want is but to put those powers in motion That long to move. CYMBELINE I thank you. Let's withdraw; And meet the time as it seeks us. We fear not What can from Italy annoy us; but We grieve at chances here. Away! [Exeunt all but PISANIO] PISANIO I heard no letter from my master since I wrote him Imogen was slain: 'tis strange: Nor hear I from my mistress who did promise To yield me often tidings: neither know I What is betid to Cloten; but remain Perplex'd in all. The heavens still must work. Wherein I am false I am honest; not true, to be true. These present wars shall find I love my country, Even to the note o' the king, or I'll fall in them. All other doubts, by time let them be clear'd: Fortune brings in some boats that are not steer'd. [Exit] CYMBELINE ACT IV SCENE IV Wales: before the cave of Belarius. [Enter BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS. GUIDERIUS The noise is round about us. BELARIUS Let us from it. ARVIRAGUS What pleasure, sir, find we in life, to lock it From action and adventure? GUIDERIUS 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. BELARIUS Sons, We'll higher to the mountains; there secure us. To the king's party there's no going: newness Of Cloten's death--we being not known, not muster'd Among the bands--may drive us to a render Where we have lived, and so extort from's that Which we have done, whose answer would be death Drawn on with torture. GUIDERIUS This is, sir, a doubt In such a time nothing becoming you, Nor satisfying us. ARVIRAGUS It is not likely That when they hear the Roman horses neigh, Behold their quarter'd fires, have both their eyes And ears so cloy'd importantly as now, That they will waste their time upon our note, To know from whence we are. BELARIUS O, I am known Of many in the army: many years, Though Cloten then but young, you see, not wore him From my remembrance. And, besides, the king Hath not deserved 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 promised, But to be still hot summer's tamings and The shrinking slaves of winter. GUIDERIUS Than be so Better to cease to be. Pray, sir, to the army: I and my brother are not known; yourself So out of thought, and thereto so o'ergrown, Cannot be question'd. ARVIRAGUS By this sun that shines, I'll thither: what thing is it that I never Did see man die! scarce ever look'd on blood, But that of coward hares, hot goats, and venison! Never bestrid a horse, save one that had A rider like myself, who ne'er wore rowel Nor iron on his heel! I am ashamed To look upon the holy sun, to have The benefit of his blest beams, remaining So long a poor unknown. GUIDERIUS By heavens, I'll go: If you will bless me, sir, and give me leave, I'll take the better care, but if you will not, The hazard therefore due fall on me by The hands of Romans! ARVIRAGUS So say I amen. BELARIUS No reason I, since of your lives you set So slight a valuation, should reserve My crack'd one to more care. Have with you, boys! If in your country wars you chance to die, That is my bed too, lads, an there I'll lie: Lead, lead. [Aside] The time seems long; their blood thinks scorn, Till it fly out and show them princes born. [Exeunt] CYMBELINE ACT V SCENE I Britain. The Roman camp. [Enter POSTHUMUS, with a bloody handkerchief] POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Yea, bloody cloth, I'll keep thee, for I wish'd Thou shouldst be colour'd thus. You married ones, If each of you should take this course, how many Must murder wives much better than themselves For wrying but a little! O Pisanio! Every good servant does not all commands: No bond but to do just ones. Gods! if you Should have ta'en vengeance on my faults, I never Had lived to put on this: so had you saved The noble Imogen to repent, and struck Me, wretch more worth your vengeance. 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 doers' thrift. But Imogen is your own: do your best wills, And make me blest to obey! I am brought hither Among the Italian gentry, and to fight Against my lady's kingdom: 'tis enough That, Britain, I have kill'd thy mistress; peace! I'll give no wound to thee. Therefore, good heavens, Hear patiently my purpose: I'll disrobe me Of these Italian weeds and suit myself As does a Briton peasant: so I'll fight Against the part I come with; so I'll die For thee, O Imogen, even for whom my life Is every breath a death; and thus, unknown, Pitied nor hated, to the face of peril Myself I'll dedicate. Let me make men know More valour in me than my habits show. Gods, put the strength o' the Leonati in me! To shame the guise o' the world, I will begin The fashion, less without and more within. [Exit] CYMBELINE ACT V SCENE II Field of battle between the British and Roman camps. [Enter, from one side, LUCIUS, IACHIMO, and the Roman Army: from the other side, the British Army; POSTHUMUS LEONATUS following, like a poor soldier. They march over and go out. Then enter again, in skirmish, IACHIMO and POSTHUMUS LEONATUS he vanquisheth and disarmeth IACHIMO, and then leaves him] IACHIMO The heaviness and guilt within my bosom Takes off my manhood: I have belied a lady, The princess of this country, and the air on't Revengingly enfeebles me; or could this carl, A very drudge of nature's, have subdued me In my profession? Knighthoods and honours, borne As I wear mine, are titles but of scorn. If that thy gentry, Britain, go before This lout as he exceeds our lords, the odds Is that we scarce are men and you are gods. [Exit] [The battle continues; the Britons fly; CYMBELINE is taken: then enter, to his rescue, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS] BELARIUS Stand, stand! We have the advantage of the ground; The lane is guarded: nothing routs us but The villany of our fears. GUIDERIUS | | Stand, stand, and fight! ARVIRAGUS | [Re-enter POSTHUMUS LEONATUS, and seconds the Britons: they rescue CYMBELINE, and exeunt. Then re-enter LUCIUS, and IACHIMO, with IMOGEN] CAIUS LUCIUS Away, boy, from the troops, and save thyself; For friends kill friends, and the disorder's such As war were hoodwink'd. IACHIMO 'Tis their fresh supplies. CAIUS LUCIUS It is a day turn'd strangely: or betimes Let's reinforce, or fly. [Exeunt] CYMBELINE ACT V SCENE III Another part of the field. [Enter POSTHUMUS LEONATUS and a British Lord] Lord Camest thou from where they made the stand? POSTHUMUS LEONATUS I did. Though you, it seems, come from the fliers. Lord I did. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS No blame be to you, sir; for all was lost, But that the heavens fought: the king himself Of his wings destitute, the army broken, And but the backs of Britons seen, all flying Through a straight lane; the enemy full-hearted, Lolling the tongue with slaughtering, having work More plentiful than tools to do't, struck down Some mortally, some slightly touch'd, some falling Merely through fear; that the straight pass was damm'd With dead men hurt behind, and cowards living To die with lengthen'd shame. Lord Where was this lane? POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Close by the battle, ditch'd, and wall'd with turf; Which gave advantage to an ancient soldier, An honest one, I warrant; who deserved So long a breeding as his white beard came to, In doing this for's country: athwart the lane, He, with two striplings-lads more like to run The country base than to commit such slaughter With faces fit for masks, or rather fairer Than those for preservation cased, or shame-- Made good the passage; cried to those that fled, 'Our Britain s harts die flying, not our men: To darkness fleet souls that fly backwards. Stand; Or we are Romans and will give you that Like beasts which you shun beastly, and may save, But to look back in frown: 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' the hunters. Then began A stop i' the chaser, a retire, anon A rout, confusion thick; 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' the need: having found the backdoor open Of the unguarded hearts, heavens, how they wound! Some slain before; some dying; some their friends O'er borne i' the former wave: ten, chased by one, Are now each one the slaughter-man of twenty: Those that would die or ere resist are grown The mortal bugs o' the field. Lord This was strange chance A narrow lane, an old man, and two boys. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Nay, do not wonder at it: you are made Rather to wonder at the things you hear Than to work any. Will you rhyme upon't, And vent it for a mockery? Here is one: 'Two boys, an old man twice a boy, a lane, Preserved the Britons, was the Romans' bane.' Lord Nay, be not angry, sir. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS 'Lack, to what end? Who dares not stand his foe, I'll be his friend; For if he'll do as he is made to do, I know he'll quickly fly my friendship too. You have put me into rhyme. Lord Farewell; you're angry. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Still going? [Exit Lord] This is a lord! O noble misery, To be i' the field, and ask 'what news?' of me! To-day how many would have given their honours To have saved their carcasses! took heel to do't, And yet died too! I, in mine own woe charm'd, Could not find death where I did hear him groan, Nor feel him where he struck: being an ugly monster, 'Tis strange he hides him in fresh cups, soft beds, Sweet words; or hath more ministers than we That draw his knives i' the war. Well, I will find him For being now a favourer to the Briton, No more a Briton, I have resumed again The part I came in: fight I will no more, But yield me to the veriest hind that shall Once touch my shoulder. Great the slaughter is Here made by the Roman; great the answer be Britons must take. For me, my ransom's death; On either side I come to spend my breath; Which neither here I'll keep nor bear again, But end it by some means for Imogen. [Enter two British Captains and Soldiers] First Captain Great Jupiter be praised! Lucius is taken. 'Tis thought the old man and his sons were angels. Second Captain There was a fourth man, in a silly habit, That gave the affront with them. First Captain So 'tis reported: But none of 'em can be found. Stand! who's there? POSTHUMUS LEONATUS A Roman, Who had not now been drooping here, if seconds Had answer'd him. Second Captain Lay hands on him; a dog! A leg of Rome shall not return to tell What crows have peck'd them here. He brags his service As if he were of note: bring him to the king. [Enter CYMBELINE, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, ARVIRAGUS, PISANIO, Soldiers, Attendants, and Roman Captives. The Captains present POSTHUMUS LEONATUS to CYMBELINE, who delivers him over to a Gaoler: then exeunt omnes] CYMBELINE ACT V SCENE IV A British prison. [Enter POSTHUMUS LEONATUS and two Gaolers] First Gaoler You shall not now be stol'n, you have locks upon you; So graze as you find pasture. Second Gaoler Ay, or a stomach. [Exeunt Gaolers] POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Most welcome, bondage! for thou art away, think, to liberty: yet am I better Than one that's sick o' the gout; since he had rather Groan so in perpetuity than be cured By the sure physician, death, who is the key To unbar these locks. My conscience, thou art fetter'd More than my shanks and wrists: you good gods, give me The penitent instrument to pick that bolt, Then, free for ever! Is't enough I am sorry? So children temporal fathers do appease; Gods are more full of mercy. Must I repent? I cannot do it better than in gyves, Desired more than constrain'd: to satisfy, If of my freedom 'tis the main part, take No stricter render of me than my all. 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: For Imogen's dear life take mine; and though 'Tis not so dear, yet 'tis a life; you coin'd it: '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 powers, If you will take this audit, take this life, And cancel these cold bonds. O Imogen! I'll speak to thee in silence. [Sleeps] [Solemn music. Enter, as in an apparition, SICILIUS LEONATUS, father to Posthumus Leonatus, an old man, attired like a warrior; leading in his hand an ancient matron, his wife, and mother to Posthumus Leonatus, with music before them: then, after other music, follow the two young Leonati, brothers to Posthumus Leonatus, with wounds as they died in the wars. They circle Posthumus Leonatus round, as he lies sleeping] Sicilius Leonatus No more, thou thunder-master, show Thy spite on mortal flies: With Mars fall out, with Juno chide, That thy adulteries Rates and revenges. Hath my poor boy done aught but well, Whose face I never saw? I died whilst in the womb he stay'd Attending nature's law: Whose father then, as men report Thou orphans' father art, Thou shouldst have been, and shielded him From this earth-vexing smart. Mother Lucina lent not me her aid, But took me in my throes; That from me was Posthumus ript, Came crying 'mongst his foes, A thing of pity! Sicilius Leonatus Great nature, like his ancestry, Moulded the stuff so fair, That he deserved the praise o' the world, As great Sicilius' heir. First Brother 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 With marriage wherefore was he mock'd, To be exiled, and thrown From Leonati seat, and cast From her his dearest one, Sweet Imogen? Sicilius Leonatus Why did you suffer Iachimo, Slight thing of Italy, To taint his nobler heart and brain With needless jealosy; And to become the geck and scorn O' th' other's villany? Second Brother For this from stiller seats we came, Our parents and us twain, That striking in our country's cause Fell bravely and were slain, Our fealty and Tenantius' right With honour to maintain. First Brother Like hardiment Posthumus hath To Cymbeline perform'd: Then, Jupiter, thou king of gods, Why hast thou thus adjourn'd The graces for his merits due, Being all to dolours turn'd? Sicilius Leonatus Thy crystal window ope; look out; No longer exercise Upon a valiant race thy harsh And potent injuries. Mother Since, Jupiter, our son is good, Take off his miseries. Sicilius Leonatus Peep through thy marble mansion; help; Or we poor ghosts will cry To the shining synod of the rest Against thy deity. First Brother | Help, Jupiter; or we appeal, | And from thy justice fly. Second Brother | [Jupiter descends in thunder and lightning, sitting upon an eagle: he throws a thunderbolt. The Apparitions fall on their knees] Jupiter 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 flowers: Be not with mortal accidents opprest; No care of yours it is; you know 'tis ours. Whom best I love I cross; to make my gift, The more delay'd, delighted. Be content; Your low-laid son our godhead will uplift: His comforts thrive, his trials well are spent. Our Jovial star reign'd at his birth, and in Our temple was he married. Rise, and fade. He shall be lord of lady Imogen, And happier much by his affliction made. This tablet lay upon his breast, wherein Our pleasure his full fortune doth confine: and so, away: no further with your din Express impatience, lest you stir up mine. Mount, eagle, to my palace crystalline. [Ascends] Sicilius Leonatus He came in thunder; his celestial breath Was sulphurous to smell: the holy eagle Stoop'd as to foot us: his ascension is More sweet than our blest fields: his royal bird Prunes the immortal wing and cloys his beak, As when his god is pleased. All Thanks, Jupiter! Sicilius Leonatus The marble pavement closes, he is enter'd His radiant root. Away! and, to be blest, Let us with care perform his great behest. [The Apparitions vanish] Posthumus Leonatus [Waking] Sleep, thou hast been a grandsire, and begot A father to me; and thou hast created A mother and two brothers: but, O scorn! Gone! they went hence so soon as they were born: And so I am awake. Poor wretches that depend On greatness' favour dream as I have done, Wake and find nothing. But, alas, I swerve: Many dream not to find, neither deserve, And yet are steep'd in favours: so am I, That have this golden chance and know not why. What fairies haunt this ground? A book? O rare one! Be not, as is our fangled world, a garment Nobler than that it covers: let thy effects So follow, to be most unlike our courtiers, As good as promise. [Reads] 'When as a lion's whelp shall, to himself unknown, without seeking find, and be embraced by a piece of tender air; and when from a stately cedar shall be lopped branches, which, being dead many years, shall after revive, be jointed to the old stock and freshly grow; then shall Posthumus end his miseries, Britain be fortunate and flourish in peace and plenty.' 'Tis still a dream, or else such stuff as madmen Tongue and brain not; either both or nothing; Or senseless speaking or a speaking such As sense cannot untie. Be what it is, The action of my life is like it, which I'll keep, if but for sympathy. [Re-enter First Gaoler] First Gaoler Come, sir, are you ready for death? POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Over-roasted rather; ready long ago. First Gaoler Hanging is the word, sir: if you be ready for that, you are well cooked. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS So, if I prove a good repast to the spectators, the dish pays the shot. First Gaoler A heavy reckoning for you, sir. 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 come in flint for want of meat, depart reeling with too much drink; sorry that you have paid too much, and sorry that you are paid too much; purse and brain both empty; the brain the heavier for being too light, the purse too light, being drawn of heaviness: of this contradiction you shall now be quit. O, the charity of a penny cord! It sums up thousands in a trice: you have no true debitor and creditor but it; of what's past, is, and to come, the discharge: your neck, sir, is pen, book and counters; so the acquittance follows. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS I am merrier to die than thou art to live. First Gaoler Indeed, sir, he that sleeps feels not the tooth-ache: but a man that were to sleep your sleep, and a hangman to help him to bed, I think he would change places with his officer; for, look you, sir, you know not which way you shall go. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Yes, indeed do I, fellow. First Gaoler Your death has eyes in 's head then; I have not seen him so pictured: you must either be directed by some that take upon them to know, or do take upon yourself that which I am sure you do not know, or jump the after inquiry on your own peril: and how you shall speed in your journey's end, I think you'll never return to tell one. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS 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. First Gaoler 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. [Enter a Messenger] Messenger Knock off his manacles; bring your prisoner to the king. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Thou bring'st good news; I am called to be made free. First Gaoler I'll be hang'd then. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Thou shalt be then freer than a gaoler; no bolts for the dead. [Exeunt POSTHUMUS LEONATUS and Messenger] First Gaoler Unless a man would marry a gallows and beget young gibbets, I never saw one so prone. Yet, on my conscience, there are verier knaves desire to live, for all he be a Roman: and there be some of them too that die against their wills; so should I, if I were one. I would we were all of one mind, and one mind good; O, there were desolation of gaolers and gallowses! I speak against my present profit, but my wish hath a preferment in 't. [Exeunt] CYMBELINE ACT V SCENE V Cymbeline's tent. [Enter CYMBELINE, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, ARVIRAGUS, PISANIO, Lords, Officers, and Attendants] CYMBELINE Stand by my side, you whom the gods have made Preservers of my throne. Woe is my heart That the poor soldier that so richly fought, Whose rags shamed gilded arms, whose naked breast Stepp'd before larges of proof, cannot be found: He shall be happy that can find him, if Our grace can make him so. BELARIUS I never saw Such noble fury in so poor a thing; Such precious deeds in one that promises nought But beggary and poor looks. CYMBELINE No tidings of him? PISANIO He hath been search'd among the dead and living, But no trace of him. CYMBELINE To my grief, I am The heir of his reward; [To BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS] which I will add To you, the liver, heart and brain of Britain, By whom I grant she lives. 'Tis now the time To ask of whence you are. Report it. BELARIUS Sir, In Cambria are we born, and gentlemen: Further to boast were neither true nor modest, Unless I add, we are honest. CYMBELINE Bow your knees. Arise my knights o' the battle: I create you Companions to our person and will fit you With dignities becoming your estates. [Enter CORNELIUS and Ladies] There's business in these faces. Why so sadly Greet you our victory? you look like Romans, And not o' the court of Britain. CORNELIUS Hail, great king! To sour your happiness, I must report The queen is dead. CYMBELINE Who worse than a physician Would this report become? But I consider, By medicine life may be prolong'd, yet death Will seize the doctor too. How ended she? CORNELIUS With horror, madly dying, like her life, Which, being cruel to the world, concluded Most cruel to herself. What she confess'd I will report, so please you: these her women Can trip me, if I err; who with wet cheeks Were present when she finish'd. CYMBELINE Prithee, say. CORNELIUS First, she confess'd she never loved you, only Affected greatness got by you, not you: Married your royalty, was wife to your place; Abhorr'd your person. CYMBELINE She alone knew this; And, but she spoke it dying, I would not Believe her lips in opening it. Proceed. CORNELIUS Your daughter, whom she bore in hand to love With such integrity, she did confess Was as a scorpion to her sight; whose life, But that her flight prevented it, she had Ta'en off by poison. CYMBELINE O most delicate fiend! Who is 't can read a woman? Is there more? CORNELIUS More, sir, and worse. She did confess she had For you a mortal mineral; which, being took, Should by the minute feed on life and lingering By inches waste you: in which time she purposed, By watching, weeping, tendance, kissing, to O'ercome you with her show, and in time, When she had fitted you with her craft, to work Her son into the adoption of the crown: But, failing of her end by his strange absence, Grew shameless-desperate; open'd, in despite Of heaven and men, her purposes; repented The evils she hatch'd were not effected; so Despairing died. CYMBELINE Heard you all this, her women? First Lady We did, so please your highness. CYMBELINE Mine eyes Were not in fault, for she was beautiful; Mine ears, that heard her flattery; nor my heart, That thought her like her seeming; it had been vicious To have mistrusted her: yet, O my daughter! That it was folly in me, thou mayst say, And prove it in thy feeling. Heaven mend all! [Enter LUCIUS, IACHIMO, the Soothsayer, and other Roman Prisoners, guarded; POSTHUMUS LEONATUS behind, and IMOGEN] Thou comest not, Caius, now for tribute that The Britons have razed out, though with the loss Of many a bold one; whose kinsmen have made suit That their good souls may be appeased with slaughter Of you their captives, which ourself have granted: So think of your estate. CAIUS LUCIUS Consider, sir, the chance of war: 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. But since the gods Will have it thus, that nothing but our lives May be call'd ransom, let it come: sufficeth A Roman with a Roman's heart can suffer: Augustus lives to think on't: and so much For my peculiar care. This one thing only I will entreat; my boy, a Briton born, Let him be ransom'd: never master had A page so kind, so duteous, diligent, So tender over his occasions, true, So feat, so nurse-like: let his virtue join With my request, which I make bold your highness Cannot deny; he hath done no Briton harm, Though he have served a Roman: save him, sir, And spare no blood beside. CYMBELINE I have surely seen him: His favour is familiar to me. Boy, Thou hast look'd thyself into my grace, And art mine own. I know not why, wherefore, To say 'live, boy:' ne'er thank thy master; 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. IMOGEN I humbly thank your highness. CAIUS LUCIUS I do not bid thee beg my life, good lad; And yet I know thou wilt. IMOGEN No, no: alack, There's other work in hand: I see a thing Bitter to me as death: your life, good master, Must shuffle for itself. CAIUS LUCIUS The boy disdains me, He leaves me, scorns me: briefly die their joys That place them on the truth of girls and boys. Why stands he so perplex'd? CYMBELINE What wouldst thou, boy? I love thee more and more: think more and more What's best to ask. Know'st him thou look'st on? speak, Wilt have him live? Is he thy kin? thy friend? IMOGEN He is a Roman; no more kin to me Than I to your highness; who, being born your vassal, Am something nearer. CYMBELINE Wherefore eyest him so? IMOGEN I'll tell you, sir, in private, if you please To give me hearing. CYMBELINE Ay, with all my heart, And lend my best attention. What's thy name? IMOGEN Fidele, sir. CYMBELINE Thou'rt my good youth, my page; I'll be thy master: walk with me; speak freely. [CYMBELINE and IMOGEN converse apart] BELARIUS Is not this boy revived from death? ARVIRAGUS One sand another Not more resembles that sweet rosy lad Who died, and was Fidele. What think you? GUIDERIUS The same dead thing alive. BELARIUS Peace, peace! see further; he eyes us not; forbear; Creatures may be alike: were 't he, I am sure He would have spoke to us. GUIDERIUS But we saw him dead. BELARIUS Be silent; let's see further. PISANIO [Aside] It is my mistress: Since she is living, let the time run on To good or bad. [CYMBELINE and IMOGEN come forward] CYMBELINE Come, stand thou by our side; Make thy demand aloud. [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. On, speak to him. IMOGEN My boon is, that this gentleman may render Of whom he had this ring. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS [Aside] What's that to him? CYMBELINE That diamond upon your finger, say How came it yours? IACHIMO Thou'lt torture me to leave unspoken that Which, to be spoke, would torture thee. CYMBELINE How! me? IACHIMO I am glad to be constrain'd to utter that Which torments me to conceal. By villany I got this ring: 'twas Leonatus' jewel; Whom thou didst banish; and--which more may grieve thee, As it doth me--a nobler sir ne'er lived 'Twixt sky and ground. Wilt thou hear more, my lord? CYMBELINE All that belongs to this. IACHIMO That paragon, thy daughter,-- For whom my heart drops blood, and my false spirits Quail to remember--Give me leave; I faint. CYMBELINE My daughter! what of her? Renew thy strength: I had rather thou shouldst live while nature will Than die ere I hear more: strive, man, and speak. IACHIMO Upon a time,--unhappy was the clock That struck the hour!--it was in Rome,--accursed The mansion where!--'twas at a feast,--O, would Our viands had been poison'd, or at least Those which I heaved to head!--the good Posthumus-- What should I say? he was too good to be Where ill men were; and was the best of all Amongst the rarest of good ones,--sitting sadly, Hearing us praise our loves of Italy For beauty that made barren the swell'd boast Of him that best could speak, for feature, laming The shrine of Venus, or straight-pight Minerva. Postures beyond brief nature, for condition, A shop of all the qualities that man Loves woman for, besides that hook of wiving, Fairness which strikes the eye-- CYMBELINE I stand on fire: Come to the matter. IACHIMO All too soon I shall, Unless thou wouldst grieve quickly. This Posthumus, Most like a noble lord in love and one That had a royal lover, took his hint; And, not dispraising whom we praised,--therein He was as calm as virtue--he began His mistress' picture; which by his tongue being made, And then a mind put in't, either our brags Were crack'd of kitchen-trolls, or his description Proved us unspeaking sots. CYMBELINE Nay, nay, to the purpose. IACHIMO Your daughter's chastity--there it begins. He spake of her, as Dian had hot dreams, And she alone were cold: whereat I, wretch, Made scruple of his praise; and wager'd with him Pieces of gold 'gainst this which then he wore Upon his honour'd finger, to attain In suit the place of's bed and win this ring By hers and mine adultery. 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. Away to Britain Post I in this design: well may you, sir, Remember me at court; where I was taught Of your chaste daughter the wide difference 'Twixt amorous and villanous. 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 practise 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; averting 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. Whereupon-- Methinks, I see him now-- POSTHUMUS LEONATUS [Advancing] Ay, so thou dost, Italian fiend! Ay me, most credulous fool, Egregious murderer, thief, any thing That's due to all the villains past, in being, To come! O, give me cord, or knife, or poison, Some upright justicer! Thou, king, send out For torturers ingenious: it is I That all the abhorred things o' the earth amend By being worse than they. I am Posthumus, That kill'd thy daughter:--villain-like, I lie-- That caused a lesser villain than myself, A sacrilegious thief, to do't: the temple Of virtue was she; yea, and she herself. Spit, and throw stones, cast mire upon me, set The dogs o' the street to bay me: every villain Be call'd Posthumus Leonitus; and Be villany less than 'twas! O Imogen! My queen, my life, my wife! O Imogen, Imogen, Imogen! IMOGEN Peace, my lord; hear, hear-- POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Shall's have a play of this? Thou scornful page, There lie thy part. [Striking her: she falls] PISANIO O, gentlemen, help! Mine and your mistress! O, my lord Posthumus! You ne'er kill'd Imogen til now. Help, help! Mine honour'd lady! CYMBELINE Does the world go round? POSTHUMUS LEONATUS How come these staggers on me? PISANIO Wake, my mistress! CYMBELINE If this be so, the gods do mean to strike me To death with mortal joy. PISANIO How fares thy mistress? IMOGEN O, get thee from my sight; Thou gavest me poison: dangerous fellow, hence! Breathe not where princes are. CYMBELINE The tune of Imogen! PISANIO 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. CYMBELINE New matter still? IMOGEN It poison'd me. CORNELIUS O gods! I left out one thing which the queen confess'd. Which must approve thee honest: 'If Pisanio Have,' said she, 'given his mistress that confection Which I gave him for cordial, she is served As I would serve a rat.' CYMBELINE What's this, Comelius? CORNELIUS The queen, sir, very oft importuned me To temper poisons for her, still pretending The satisfaction of her knowledge only In killing creatures vile, as cats and dogs, Of no esteem: I, dreading that her purpose Was of more danger, did compound for her A certain stuff, which, being ta'en, would cease The present power of life, but in short time All offices of nature should again Do their due functions. Have you ta'en of it? IMOGEN Most like I did, for I was dead. BELARIUS My boys, There was our error. GUIDERIUS This is, sure, Fidele. IMOGEN Why did you throw your wedded lady from you? Think that you are upon a rock; and now Throw me again. [Embracing him] POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Hang there like a fruit, my soul, Till the tree die! CYMBELINE How now, my flesh, my child! What, makest thou me a dullard in this act? Wilt thou not speak to me? IMOGEN [Kneeling] Your blessing, sir. BELARIUS [To GUIDERIUS and ARVIRAGUS] Though you did love this youth, I blame ye not: You had a motive for't. CYMBELINE My tears that fall Prove holy water on thee! Imogen, Thy mother's dead. IMOGEN I am sorry for't, my lord. CYMBELINE O, she was nought; and long of her it was That we meet here so strangely: but her son Is gone, we know not how nor where. PISANIO My lord, Now fear is from me, I'll speak troth. Lord Cloten, Upon my lady's missing, came to me With his sword drawn; foam'd at the mouth, and swore, If I discover'd not which way she was gone, It was my instant death. By accident, had a feigned letter of my master's Then in my pocket; which directed him To seek her on the mountains near to Milford; Where, in a frenzy, in my master's garments, Which he enforced from me, away he posts With unchaste purpose and with oath to violate My lady's honour: what became of him I further know not. GUIDERIUS Let me end the story: I slew him there. CYMBELINE Marry, the gods forfend! I would not thy good deeds should from my lips Pluck a bard sentence: prithee, valiant youth, Deny't again. GUIDERIUS I have spoke it, and I did it. CYMBELINE He was a prince. GUIDERIUS A most incivil one: the wrongs he did me Were nothing prince-like; for he did provoke me With language that would make me spurn the sea, If it could so roar to me: I cut off's head; And am right glad he is not standing here To tell this tale of mine. CYMBELINE I am sorry for thee: By thine own tongue thou art condemn'd, and must Endure our law: thou'rt dead. IMOGEN That headless man I thought had been my lord. CYMBELINE Bind the offender, And take him from our presence. BELARIUS Stay, sir king: This man is better than the man he slew, As well descended as thyself; and hath More of thee merited than a band of Clotens Had ever scar for. [To the Guard] Let his arms alone; They were not born for bondage. CYMBELINE Why, old soldier, Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for, By tasting of our wrath? How of descent As good as we? ARVIRAGUS In that he spake too far. CYMBELINE And thou shalt die for't. BELARIUS We will die all three: But I will prove that two on's are as good As I have given out him. My sons, I must, For mine own part, unfold a dangerous speech, Though, haply, well for you. ARVIRAGUS Your danger's ours. GUIDERIUS And our good his. BELARIUS Have at it then, by leave. Thou hadst, great king, a subject who Was call'd Belarius. CYMBELINE What of him? he is A banish'd traitor. BELARIUS He it is that hath Assumed this age; indeed a banish'd man; I know not how a traitor. CYMBELINE Take him hence: The whole world shall not save him. BELARIUS Not too hot: First pay me for the nursing of thy sons; And let it be confiscate all, so soon As I have received it. CYMBELINE Nursing of my sons! BELARIUS I am too blunt and saucy: here's my knee: Ere I arise, I will prefer my sons; Then spare not the old father. Mighty sir, These two young gentlemen, that call me father And think they are my sons, are none of mine; They are the issue of your loins, my liege, And blood of your begetting. CYMBELINE How! my issue! BELARIUS So sure as you your father's. I, old Morgan, Am that Belarius whom you sometime banish'd: 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 I Could put into them; my breeding was, sir, as Your highness knows. Their nurse, Euriphile, Whom for the theft I wedded, stole these children Upon my banishment: I moved her to't, Having received the punishment before, For that which I did then: beaten for loyalty Excited me to treason: their dear loss, The more of you 'twas felt, the more it shaped 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 benediction of these covering heavens Fall on their heads like dew! for they are worthy To inlay heaven with stars. CYMBELINE Thou weep'st, and speak'st. The service that you three have done is more Unlike than this thou tell'st. I lost my children: If these be they, I know not how to wish A pair of worthier sons. BELARIUS Be pleased awhile. This gentleman, whom I call Polydore, Most worthy prince, as yours, is true Guiderius: This gentleman, my Cadwal, Arviragus, Your younger princely son; he, sir, was lapp'd In a most curious mantle, wrought by the hand Of his queen mother, which for more probation I can with ease produce. CYMBELINE Guiderius had Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star; It was a mark of wonder. BELARIUS This is he; Who hath upon him still that natural stamp: It was wise nature's end in the donation, To be his evidence now. CYMBELINE O, what, am I A mother to the birth of three? Ne'er mother Rejoiced deliverance more. Blest pray you be, That, after this strange starting from your orbs, may reign in them now! O Imogen, Thou hast lost by this a kingdom. IMOGEN No, my lord; I have got two worlds by 't. O my gentle brothers, Have we thus met? O, never say hereafter But I am truest speaker you call'd me brother, When I was but your sister; I you brothers, When ye were so indeed. CYMBELINE Did you e'er meet? ARVIRAGUS Ay, my good lord. GUIDERIUS And at first meeting loved; Continued so, until we thought he died. CORNELIUS By the queen's dram she swallow'd. CYMBELINE O rare instinct! When shall I hear all through? This fierce abridgement Hath to it circumstantial branches, which Distinction should be rich in. Where? how lived You? And when came you to serve our Roman captive? How parted with your brothers? how first met them? Why fled you from the court? and whither? These, And your three motives to the battle, with I know not how much more, should be demanded; And all the other by-dependencies, From chance to chance: but nor the time nor place Will serve our long inter'gatories. See, Posthumus anchors upon Imogen, And she, like harmless lightning, throws her eye On him, her brother, me, her master, hitting Each object with a joy: the counterchange Is severally in all. Let's quit this ground, And smoke the temple with our sacrifices. [To BELARIUS] Thou art my brother; so we'll hold thee ever. IMOGEN You are my father too, and did relieve me, To see this gracious season. CYMBELINE All o'erjoy'd, Save these in bonds: let them be joyful too, For they shall taste our comfort. IMOGEN My good master, I will yet do you service. CAIUS LUCIUS Happy be you! CYMBELINE The forlorn soldier, that so nobly fought, He would have well becomed this place, and graced The thankings of a king. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS I am, sir, The soldier that did company these three In poor beseeming; 'twas a fitment for The purpose I then follow'd. That I was he, Speak, Iachimo: I had you down and might Have made you finish. IACHIMO [Kneeling] I am down again: But now my heavy conscience sinks my knee, As then your force did. Take that life, beseech you, Which I so often owe: but your ring first; And here the bracelet of the truest princess That ever swore her faith. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Kneel not to me: The power that I have on you is, to spare you; The malice towards you to forgive you: live, And deal with others better. CYMBELINE Nobly doom'd! We'll learn our freeness of a son-in-law; Pardon's the word to all. ARVIRAGUS You holp us, sir, As you did mean indeed to be our brother; Joy'd are we that you are. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Your servant, princes. Good my lord of Rome, Call forth your soothsayer: as I slept, methought Great Jupiter, upon his eagle back'd, Appear'd to me, with other spritely shows Of mine own kindred: when I waked, I found This label on my bosom; whose containing Is so from sense in hardness, that I can Make no collection of it: let him show His skill in the construction. CAIUS LUCIUS Philarmonus! Soothsayer Here, my good lord. CAIUS LUCIUS Read, and declare the meaning. Soothsayer [Reads] 'When as a lion's whelp shall, to himself unknown, without seeking find, and be embraced by a piece of tender air; and when from a stately cedar shall be lopped branches, which, being dead many years, shall after revive, be jointed to the old stock, and freshly grow; then shall Posthumus end his miseries, Britain be fortunate and flourish in peace and plenty.' Thou, Leonatus, art the lion's whelp; The fit and apt construction of thy name, Being Leonatus, doth import so much. [To CYMBELINE] The piece of tender air, thy virtuous daughter, Which we call 'mollis aer;' and 'mollis aer' We term it 'mulier:' which 'mulier' I divine Is this most constant wife; who, even now, Answering the letter of the oracle, Unknown to you, unsought, were clipp'd about With this most tender air. CYMBELINE This hath some seeming. Soothsayer The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline, Personates thee: and thy lopp'd branches point Thy two sons forth; who, by Belarius stol'n, For many years thought dead, are now revived, To the majestic cedar join'd, whose issue Promises Britain peace and plenty. CYMBELINE Well My peace we will begin. And, Caius Lucius, Although the victor, we submit to Caesar, And to the Roman empire; promising To pay our wonted tribute, from the which We were dissuaded by our wicked queen; Whom heavens, in justice, both on her and hers, Have laid most heavy hand. Soothsayer The fingers of the powers above do tune The harmony of this peace. The vision Which I made known to Lucius, ere the stroke Of this yet 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' the sun So vanish'd: which foreshow'd our princely eagle, The imperial Caesar, should again unite His favour with the radiant Cymbeline, Which shines here in the west. CYMBELINE Laud we the gods; And let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils From our blest altars. Publish we this peace To all our subjects. Set we forward: let A Roman and a British ensign wave Friendly together: so through Lud's-town march: And in the temple of great Jupiter Our peace we'll ratify; seal it with feasts. Set on there! Never was a war did cease, Ere bloody hands were wash'd, with such a peace. [Exeunt] THE TEMPEST 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. ADRIAN | | Lords. FRANCISCO | CALIBAN a savage and deformed Slave. TRINCULO a Jester. STEPHANO a drunken Butler. Master of a Ship. (Master:) Boatswain. (Boatswain:) Mariners. (Mariners:) MIRANDA daughter to Prospero. ARIEL an airy Spirit. IRIS | | CERES | | JUNO | presented by Spirits. | Nymphs | | Reapers | Other Spirits attending on Prospero. SCENE A ship at Sea: an island. THE TEMPEST ACT I SCENE I On a ship at sea: a tempestuous noise of thunder and lightning heard. [Enter a Master and a Boatswain] Master Boatswain! Boatswain Here, master: what cheer? Master Good, speak to the mariners: fall to't, yarely, or we run ourselves aground: bestir, bestir. [Exit] [Enter Mariners] Boatswain Heigh, my hearts! cheerly, cheerly, my hearts! yare, yare! Take in the topsail. Tend to the master's whistle. Blow, till thou burst thy wind, if room enough! [Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, FERDINAND, GONZALO, and others] ALONSO Good boatswain, have care. Where's the master? Play the men. Boatswain I pray now, keep below. ANTONIO Where is the master, boatswain? Boatswain Do you not hear him? You mar our labour: keep your cabins: you do assist the storm. GONZALO Nay, good, be patient. Boatswain When the sea is. Hence! What cares these roarers for the name of king? To cabin: silence! trouble us not. GONZALO Good, yet remember whom thou hast aboard. Boatswain None that I more love than myself. You are a counsellor; if you can command these elements to silence, and work the peace of the present, we will not hand a rope more; use your authority: if you cannot, give thanks you have lived so long, and make yourself ready in your cabin for the mischance of the hour, if it so hap. Cheerly, good hearts! Out of our way, I say. [Exit] GONZALO I have great comfort from this fellow: methinks he hath no drowning mark upon him; his complexion is perfect gallows. Stand fast, good Fate, to his hanging: make the rope of his destiny our cable, for our own doth little advantage. If he be not born to be hanged, our case is miserable. [Exeunt] [Re-enter Boatswain] Boatswain Down with the topmast! yare! lower, lower! Bring her to try with main-course. [A cry within] A plague upon this howling! they are louder than the weather or our office. [Re-enter SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, and GONZALO] Yet again! what do you here? Shall we give o'er and drown? Have you a mind to sink? SEBASTIAN A pox o' your throat, you bawling, blasphemous, incharitable dog! Boatswain Work you then. ANTONIO Hang, cur! hang, you whoreson, insolent noisemaker! We are less afraid to be drowned than thou art. GONZALO I'll warrant him for drowning; though the ship were no stronger than a nutshell and as leaky as an unstanched wench. Boatswain Lay her a-hold, a-hold! set her two courses off to sea again; lay her off. [Enter Mariners wet] Mariners All lost! to prayers, to prayers! all lost! Boatswain What, must our mouths be cold? GONZALO The king and prince at prayers! let's assist them, For our case is as theirs. SEBASTIAN I'm out of patience. ANTONIO We are merely cheated of our lives by drunkards: This wide-chapp'd rascal--would thou mightst lie drowning The washing of ten tides! GONZALO He'll be hang'd yet, Though every drop of water swear against it And gape at widest to glut him. [A confused noise within: 'Mercy on us!'-- 'We split, we split!'--'Farewell, my wife and children!'-- 'Farewell, brother!'--'We split, we split, we split!'] ANTONIO Let's all sink with the king. SEBASTIAN Let's take leave of him. [Exeunt ANTONIO and SEBASTIAN] GONZALO Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground, long heath, brown furze, any thing. The wills above be done! but I would fain die a dry death. [Exeunt] THE TEMPEST ACT I SCENE II The island. Before PROSPERO'S cell. [Enter PROSPERO and MIRANDA] MIRANDA 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 the 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. PROSPERO Be collected: No more amazement: tell your piteous heart There's no harm done. MIRANDA O, woe the day! PROSPERO No harm. 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. MIRANDA More to know Did never meddle with my thoughts. PROSPERO 'Tis time I should inform thee farther. Lend thy hand, And pluck my magic garment from me. So: [Lays down his mantle] Lie there, my art. Wipe thou thine eyes; have comfort. The direful spectacle of the wreck, which touch'd The very virtue of compassion in thee, I have with such provision in mine art So safely ordered that there is no soul-- No, not so much perdition as an hair Betid to any creature in the vessel Which thou heard'st cry, which thou saw'st sink. Sit down; For thou must now know farther. MIRANDA You have often Begun to tell me what I am, but stopp'd And left me to a bootless inquisition, Concluding 'Stay: not yet.' PROSPERO The hour's now come; The very minute bids thee ope thine ear; Obey and be attentive. Canst thou remember A time before we came unto this cell? I do not think thou canst, for then thou wast not Out three years old. MIRANDA Certainly, sir, I can. PROSPERO By what? by any other house or person? Of any thing the image tell me that Hath kept with thy remembrance. MIRANDA 'Tis far off And rather like a dream than an assurance That my remembrance warrants. Had I not Four or five women once that tended me? PROSPERO Thou hadst, and more, Miranda. But how is it That this lives in thy mind? What seest thou else In the dark backward and abysm of time? If thou remember'st aught ere thou camest here, How thou camest here thou mayst. MIRANDA But that I do not. PROSPERO Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve year since, Thy father was the Duke of Milan and A prince of power. MIRANDA Sir, are not you my father? PROSPERO Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and She said thou wast my daughter; and thy father Was Duke of Milan; and thou his only heir And princess no worse issued. MIRANDA O the heavens! What foul play had we, that we came from thence? Or blessed was't we did? PROSPERO Both, both, my girl: By foul play, as thou say'st, were we heaved thence, But blessedly holp hither. MIRANDA O, my heart bleeds To think o' the teen that I have turn'd you to, Which is from my remembrance! Please you, farther. PROSPERO My brother and thy uncle, call'd Antonio-- I pray thee, mark me--that a brother should Be so perfidious!--he whom next thyself Of all the world I loved and to him put The manage of my state; as at that time Through all the signories it was the first And Prospero the prime duke, being so reputed In dignity, and for the liberal arts Without a parallel; those being all my study, The government I cast upon my brother And to my state grew stranger, being transported And rapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle-- Dost thou attend me? MIRANDA Sir, most heedfully. PROSPERO Being once perfected how to grant suits, How to deny them, who to advance and who To trash for over-topping, new created The creatures that were mine, I say, or changed 'em, Or else new form'd 'em; having both the key Of officer and office, set all hearts i' the state To what tune pleased his ear; that now he was The ivy which had hid my princely trunk, And suck'd my verdure out on't. Thou attend'st not. MIRANDA O, good sir, I do. PROSPERO I pray thee, mark me. I, thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated To closeness and the bettering of my mind With that which, but by being so retired, O'er-prized all popular rate, in my false brother Awaked an evil nature; and my trust, Like a good parent, did beget of him A falsehood in its contrary as great As my trust was; which had indeed no limit, A confidence sans bound. He being thus lorded, Not only with what my revenue yielded, But what my power might else exact, like one Who having into truth, by telling of it, Made such a sinner of his memory, To credit his own lie, he did believe He was indeed the duke; out o' the substitution And executing the outward face of royalty, With all prerogative: hence his ambition growing-- Dost thou hear? MIRANDA Your tale, sir, would cure deafness. PROSPERO To have no screen between this part he play'd And him he play'd it for, he needs will be Absolute Milan. Me, poor man, my library Was dukedom large enough: of temporal royalties He thinks me now incapable; confederates-- So dry he was for sway--wi' the King of Naples To give him annual tribute, do him homage, Subject his coronet to his crown and bend The dukedom yet unbow'd--alas, poor Milan!-- To most ignoble stooping. MIRANDA O the heavens! PROSPERO Mark his condition and the event; then tell me If this might be a brother. MIRANDA I should sin To think but nobly of my grandmother: Good wombs have borne bad sons. PROSPERO Now the condition. The King of Naples, being an enemy To me inveterate, hearkens my brother's suit; Which was, that he, in lieu o' the 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: whereon, A treacherous army levied, one midnight Fated to the purpose did Antonio open The gates of Milan, and, i' the dead of darkness, The ministers for the purpose hurried thence Me and thy crying self. MIRANDA Alack, for pity! I, not remembering how I cried out then, Will cry it o'er again: it is a hint That wrings mine eyes to't. PROSPERO Hear a little further And then I'll bring thee to the present business Which now's upon's; without the which this story Were most impertinent. MIRANDA Wherefore did they not That hour destroy us? PROSPERO Well demanded, wench: My tale provokes that question. 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. In few, they hurried us aboard a bark, Bore us some leagues to sea; where they prepared A rotten carcass of a boat, not rigg'd, Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats Instinctively had quit it: there they hoist us, To cry to the sea that roar'd to us, to sigh To the winds whose pity, sighing back again, Did us but loving wrong. MIRANDA Alack, what trouble Was I then to you! PROSPERO O, a cherubim Thou wast that did preserve me. Thou didst smile. Infused with a fortitude from heaven, When I have deck'd the sea with drops full salt, Under my burthen groan'd; which raised in me An undergoing stomach, to bear up Against what should ensue. MIRANDA How came we ashore? PROSPERO By Providence divine. Some food we had and some fresh water that A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo, Out of his charity, being then appointed Master of this design, did give us, with Rich garments, linens, stuffs and necessaries, Which since have steaded much; so, of his gentleness, Knowing I loved my books, he furnish'd me From mine own library with volumes that I prize above my dukedom. MIRANDA Would I might But ever see that man! PROSPERO Now I arise: [Resumes his mantle] Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow. Here in this island we arrived; and here Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit Than other princesses can that have more time For vainer hours and tutors not so careful. MIRANDA Heavens thank you for't! And now, I pray you, sir, For still 'tis beating in my mind, your reason For raising this sea-storm? PROSPERO Know thus far forth. By accident most strange, bountiful Fortune, Now my dear lady, hath mine enemies Brought to this shore; and by my prescience I find my zenith doth depend upon A most auspicious star, whose influence If now I court not but omit, my fortunes Will ever after droop. Here cease more questions: Thou art inclined to sleep; 'tis a good dulness, And give it way: I know thou canst not choose. [MIRANDA sleeps] Come away, servant, come. I am ready now. Approach, my Ariel, come. [Enter ARIEL] ARIEL 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, to thy strong bidding task Ariel and all his quality. PROSPERO Hast thou, spirit, Perform'd to point the tempest that I bade thee? ARIEL To every article. I boarded the king's ship; now on the beak, Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin, I flamed amazement: sometime I'ld divide, And burn in many places; on the topmast, The yards and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly, Then meet and join. Jove's lightnings, the precursors O' the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary And sight-outrunning were not; the fire and cracks Of sulphurous roaring the most mighty Neptune Seem to besiege and make his bold waves tremble, Yea, his dread trident shake. PROSPERO My brave spirit! Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil Would not infect his reason? ARIEL Not a soul But felt a fever of the mad and play'd Some tricks of desperation. All but mariners Plunged in the foaming brine and quit the vessel, Then all afire with me: the king's son, Ferdinand, With hair up-staring,--then like reeds, not hair,-- Was the first man that leap'd; cried, 'Hell is empty And all the devils are here.' PROSPERO Why that's my spirit! But was not this nigh shore? ARIEL Close by, my master. PROSPERO But are they, Ariel, safe? ARIEL Not a hair perish'd; On their sustaining garments not a blemish, But fresher than before: and, as thou badest me, In troops I have dispersed them 'bout the isle. The king's son have I landed by himself; Whom I left cooling of the air with sighs In an odd angle of the isle and sitting, His arms in this sad knot. PROSPERO Of the king's ship The mariners say how thou hast disposed And all the rest o' the fleet. ARIEL Safely in harbour Is the king's ship; in the deep nook, where once Thou call'dst me up at midnight to fetch dew From the still-vex'd Bermoothes, there she's hid: The mariners all under hatches stow'd; Who, with a charm join'd to their suffer'd labour, I have left asleep; and for the rest o' the fleet Which I dispersed, they all have met again And are upon the Mediterranean flote, Bound sadly home for Naples, Supposing that they saw the king's ship wreck'd And his great person perish. PROSPERO Ariel, thy charge Exactly is perform'd: but there's more work. What is the time o' the day? ARIEL Past the mid season. PROSPERO At least two glasses. The time 'twixt six and now Must by us both be spent most preciously. ARIEL Is there more toil? Since thou dost give me pains, Let me remember thee what thou hast promised, Which is not yet perform'd me. PROSPERO How now? moody? What is't thou canst demand? ARIEL My liberty. PROSPERO Before the time be out? no more! ARIEL I prithee, Remember I have done thee worthy service; Told thee no lies, made thee no mistakings, served Without or grudge or grumblings: thou didst promise To bate me a full year. PROSPERO Dost thou forget From what a torment I did free thee? ARIEL No. PROSPERO Thou dost, and think'st it much to tread the ooze Of the salt deep, To run upon the sharp wind of the north, To do me business in the veins o' the earth When it is baked with frost. ARIEL I do not, sir. PROSPERO Thou liest, malignant thing! Hast thou forgot The foul witch Sycorax, who with age and envy Was grown into a hoop? hast thou forgot her? ARIEL No, sir. PROSPERO Thou hast. Where was she born? speak; tell me. ARIEL Sir, in Argier. PROSPERO O, was she so? I must Once in a month recount what thou hast been, Which thou forget'st. 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. Is not this true? ARIEL Ay, sir. PROSPERO This blue-eyed hag was hither brought with child And here was left by the sailors. Thou, my slave, As thou report'st thyself, wast then her servant; And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate To act her earthy and abhorr'd commands, Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee, By help of her more potent ministers And in her most unmitigable rage, Into a cloven pine; within which rift Imprison'd thou didst painfully remain A dozen years; within which space she died And left thee there; where thou didst vent thy groans As fast as mill-wheels strike. Then was this island-- Save for the son that she did litter here, A freckled whelp hag-born--not honour'd with A human shape. ARIEL Yes, Caliban her son. PROSPERO Dull thing, I say so; he, that Caliban Whom now I keep in service. Thou best know'st What torment I did find thee in; thy groans Did make wolves howl and penetrate the breasts Of ever angry bears: it was a torment To lay upon the damn'd, which Sycorax Could not again undo: it was mine art, When I arrived and heard thee, that made gape The pine and let thee out. ARIEL I thank thee, master. PROSPERO If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an oak And peg thee in his knotty entrails till Thou hast howl'd away twelve winters. ARIEL Pardon, master; I will be correspondent to command And do my spiriting gently. PROSPERO Do so, and after two days I will discharge thee. ARIEL That's my noble master! What shall I do? say what; what shall I do? PROSPERO Go make thyself like a nymph o' the sea: be subject To no sight but thine and mine, invisible To every eyeball else. Go take this shape And hither come in't: go, hence with diligence! [Exit ARIEL] Awake, dear heart, awake! thou hast slept well; Awake! MIRANDA The strangeness of your story put Heaviness in me. PROSPERO Shake it off. Come on; We'll visit Caliban my slave, who never Yields us kind answer. MIRANDA 'Tis a villain, sir, I do not love to look on. PROSPERO But, as 'tis, We cannot miss him: he does make our fire, Fetch in our wood and serves in offices That profit us. What, ho! slave! Caliban! Thou earth, thou! speak. CALIBAN [Within] There's wood enough within. PROSPERO Come forth, I say! there's other business for thee: Come, thou tortoise! when? [Re-enter ARIEL like a water-nymph] Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel, Hark in thine ear. ARIEL My lord it shall be done. [Exit] PROSPERO Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself Upon thy wicked dam, come forth! [Enter CALIBAN] CALIBAN As wicked dew as e'er my mother brush'd With raven's feather from unwholesome fen Drop on you both! a south-west blow on ye And blister you all o'er! PROSPERO For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps, Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up; urchins Shall, for that vast of night that they may work, All exercise on thee; thou shalt be pinch'd As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging Than bees that made 'em. CALIBAN I must eat my dinner. This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother, Which thou takest from me. When thou camest first, Thou strokedst me and madest 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 loved thee And show'd thee all the qualities o' the isle, The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place and fertile: Cursed 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' the island. PROSPERO Thou most lying slave, Whom stripes may move, not kindness! I have used thee, Filth as thou art, with human care, and lodged thee In mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violate The honour of my child. CALIBAN O ho, O ho! would't had been done! Thou didst prevent me; I had peopled else This isle with Calibans. PROSPERO 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. But thy vile race, Though thou didst learn, had that in't which good natures Could not abide to be with; therefore wast thou Deservedly confined into this rock, Who hadst deserved more than a prison. CALIBAN You taught me language; and my profit on't Is, I know how to curse. The red plague rid you For learning me your language! PROSPERO Hag-seed, hence! Fetch us in fuel; and be quick, thou'rt best, To answer other business. Shrug'st thou, malice? If thou neglect'st or dost unwillingly What I command, I'll rack thee with old cramps, Fill all thy bones with aches, make thee roar That beasts shall tremble at thy din. CALIBAN No, pray thee. [Aside] I must obey: his art is of such power, It would control my dam's god, Setebos, and make a vassal of him. PROSPERO So, slave; hence! [Exit CALIBAN] [Re-enter ARIEL, invisible, playing and singing; FERDINAND following] ARIEL'S song. Come unto these yellow sands, And then take hands: Courtsied when you have and kiss'd The wild waves whist, Foot it featly here and there; And, sweet sprites, the burthen bear. Hark, hark! [Burthen [dispersedly, within] Bow-wow] The watch-dogs bark! [Burthen Bow-wow] Hark, hark! I hear The strain of strutting chanticleer Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow. FERDINAND Where should this music be? i' the air or the earth? It sounds no more: and sure, it waits upon Some god o' the island. 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. But 'tis gone. No, it begins again. [ARIEL sings] Full fathom five thy father lies; Of his bones are coral made; Those are pearls that were his eyes: Nothing of him that doth fade But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange. Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell [Burthen Ding-dong] Hark! now I hear them,--Ding-dong, bell. FERDINAND The ditty does remember my drown'd father. This is no mortal business, nor no sound That the earth owes. I hear it now above me. PROSPERO The fringed curtains of thine eye advance And say what thou seest yond. MIRANDA What is't? a spirit? Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir, It carries a brave form. But 'tis a spirit. PROSPERO No, wench; it eats and sleeps and hath such senses As we have, such. This gallant which thou seest Was in the wreck; and, but he's something stain'd With grief that's beauty's canker, thou mightst call him A goodly person: he hath lost his fellows And strays about to find 'em. MIRANDA I might call him A thing divine, for nothing natural I ever saw so noble. PROSPERO [Aside] It goes on, I see, As my soul prompts it. Spirit, fine spirit! I'll free thee Within two days for this. FERDINAND Most sure, the goddess On whom these airs attend! Vouchsafe my prayer May know if you remain upon this island; And that you will some good instruction give How I may bear me here: my prime request, Which I do last pronounce, is, O you wonder! If you be maid or no? MIRANDA No wonder, sir; But certainly a maid. FERDINAND My language! heavens! I am the best of them that speak this speech, Were I but where 'tis spoken. PROSPERO How? the best? What wert thou, if the King of Naples heard thee? FERDINAND A single thing, as I am now, that wonders To hear thee speak of Naples. He does hear me; And that he does I weep: myself am Naples, Who with mine eyes, never since at ebb, beheld The king my father wreck'd. MIRANDA Alack, for mercy! FERDINAND Yes, faith, and all his lords; the Duke of Milan And his brave son being twain. PROSPERO [Aside] The Duke of Milan And his more braver daughter could control thee, If now 'twere fit to do't. At the first sight They have changed eyes. Delicate Ariel, I'll set thee free for this. [To FERDINAND] A word, good sir; I fear you have done yourself some wrong: a word. MIRANDA Why speaks my father so ungently? This Is the third man that e'er I saw, the first That e'er I sigh'd for: pity move my father To be inclined my way! FERDINAND O, if a virgin, And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you The queen of Naples. PROSPERO Soft, sir! one word more. [Aside] They are both in either's powers; but this swift business 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 owest not; and hast put thyself Upon this island as a spy, to win it From me, the lord on't. FERDINAND No, as I am a man. MIRANDA There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple: If the ill spirit have so fair a house, Good things will strive to dwell with't. PROSPERO Follow me. Speak not you for him; he's a traitor. Come; I'll manacle thy neck and feet together: Sea-water shalt thou drink; thy food shall be The fresh-brook muscles, wither'd roots and husks Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow. FERDINAND No; I will resist such entertainment till Mine enemy has more power. [Draws, and is charmed from moving] MIRANDA O dear father, Make not too rash a trial of him, for He's gentle and not fearful. PROSPERO What? I say, My foot my tutor? Put thy sword up, traitor; Who makest a show but darest not strike, thy conscience Is so possess'd with guilt: come from thy ward, For I can here disarm thee with this stick And make thy weapon drop. MIRANDA Beseech you, father. PROSPERO Hence! hang not on my garments. MIRANDA Sir, have pity; I'll be his surety. PROSPERO Silence! one word more Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What! An advocate for an imposter! hush! Thou think'st there is no more such shapes as he, Having seen but him and Caliban: foolish wench! To the most of men this is a Caliban And they to him are angels. MIRANDA My affections Are then most humble; I have no ambition To see a goodlier man. PROSPERO Come on; obey: Thy nerves are in their infancy again And have no vigour in them. FERDINAND So they are; My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up. My father's loss, the weakness which I feel, The wreck of all my friends, nor this man's threats, To whom I am subdued, are but light to me, Might I but through my prison once a day Behold this maid: all corners else o' the earth Let liberty make use of; space enough Have I in such a prison. PROSPERO [Aside] It works. [To FERDINAND] Come on. Thou hast done well, fine Ariel! [To FERDINAND] Follow me. [To ARIEL] Hark what thou else shalt do me. MIRANDA Be of comfort; My father's of a better nature, sir, Than he appears by speech: this is unwonted Which now came from him. PROSPERO Thou shalt be free As mountain winds: but then exactly do All points of my command. ARIEL To the syllable. PROSPERO Come, follow. Speak not for him. [Exeunt] THE TEMPEST ACT II SCENE I Another part of the island. [Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GONZALO, ADRIAN, FRANCISCO, and others] GONZALO Beseech you, sir, be merry; you have cause, So have we all, of joy; for our escape Is much beyond our loss. Our hint of woe Is common; every day some sailor's wife, The masters of some merchant and the merchant Have just our theme of woe; but for the miracle, I mean our preservation, few in millions Can speak like us: then wisely, good sir, weigh Our sorrow with our comfort. ALONSO Prithee, peace. SEBASTIAN He receives comfort like cold porridge. ANTONIO The visitor will not give him o'er so. SEBASTIAN Look he's winding up the watch of his wit; by and by it will strike. GONZALO Sir,-- SEBASTIAN One: tell. GONZALO When every grief is entertain'd that's offer'd, Comes to the entertainer-- SEBASTIAN A dollar. GONZALO Dolour comes to him, indeed: you have spoken truer than you purposed. SEBASTIAN You have taken it wiselier than I meant you should. GONZALO Therefore, my lord,-- ANTONIO Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue! ALONSO I prithee, spare. GONZALO Well, I have done: but yet,-- SEBASTIAN He will be talking. ANTONIO Which, of he or Adrian, for a good wager, first begins to crow? SEBASTIAN The old cock. ANTONIO The cockerel. SEBASTIAN Done. The wager? ANTONIO A laughter. SEBASTIAN A match! ADRIAN Though this island seem to be desert,-- SEBASTIAN Ha, ha, ha! So, you're paid. ADRIAN Uninhabitable and almost inaccessible,-- SEBASTIAN Yet,-- ADRIAN Yet,-- ANTONIO He could not miss't. ADRIAN It must needs be of subtle, tender and delicate temperance. ANTONIO Temperance was a delicate wench. SEBASTIAN Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly delivered. ADRIAN The air breathes upon us here most sweetly. SEBASTIAN As if it had lungs and rotten ones. ANTONIO Or as 'twere perfumed by a fen. GONZALO Here is everything advantageous to life. ANTONIO True; save means to live. SEBASTIAN Of that there's none, or little. GONZALO How lush and lusty the grass looks! how green! ANTONIO The ground indeed is tawny. SEBASTIAN With an eye of green in't. ANTONIO He misses not much. SEBASTIAN No; he doth but mistake the truth totally. GONZALO But the rarity of it is,--which is indeed almost beyond credit,-- SEBASTIAN As many vouched rarities are. GONZALO That our garments, being, as they were, drenched in the sea, hold notwithstanding their freshness and glosses, being rather new-dyed than stained with salt water. ANTONIO If but one of his pockets could speak, would it not say he lies? SEBASTIAN Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report GONZALO 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. SEBASTIAN 'Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our return. ADRIAN Tunis was never graced before with such a paragon to their queen. GONZALO Not since widow Dido's time. ANTONIO Widow! a pox o' that! How came that widow in? widow Dido! SEBASTIAN What if he had said 'widower AEneas' too? Good Lord, how you take it! ADRIAN 'Widow Dido' said you? you make me study of that: she was of Carthage, not of Tunis. GONZALO This Tunis, sir, was Carthage. ADRIAN Carthage? GONZALO I assure you, Carthage. SEBASTIAN His word is more than the miraculous harp; he hath raised the wall and houses too. ANTONIO What impossible matter will he make easy next? SEBASTIAN I think he will carry this island home in his pocket and give it his son for an apple. ANTONIO And, sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring forth more islands. GONZALO Ay. ANTONIO Why, in good time. GONZALO Sir, we were talking that our garments seem now as fresh as when we were at Tunis at the marriage of your daughter, who is now queen. ANTONIO And the rarest that e'er came there. SEBASTIAN Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido. ANTONIO O, widow Dido! ay, widow Dido. GONZALO Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day I wore it? I mean, in a sort. ANTONIO That sort was well fished for. GONZALO When I wore it at your daughter's marriage? ALONSO You cram these words into mine ears against The stomach of my sense. Would I had never Married my daughter there! for, coming thence, My son is lost and, in my rate, she too, Who is so far from Italy removed I ne'er again shall see her. O thou mine heir Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish Hath made his meal on thee? FRANCISCO Sir, he may live: I saw him beat the surges under him, And ride upon their backs; he trod the water, Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted The surge most swoln that met him; his bold head 'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar'd Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke To the shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bow'd, As stooping to relieve him: I not doubt He came alive to land. ALONSO No, no, he's gone. SEBASTIAN 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. ALONSO Prithee, peace. SEBASTIAN You were kneel'd to and importuned otherwise By all of us, and the fair soul herself Weigh'd between loathness and obedience, at Which end o' the beam should bow. We have lost your son, I fear, for ever: Milan and Naples have More widows in them of this business' making Than we bring men to comfort them: The fault's your own. ALONSO So is the dear'st o' the loss. GONZALO 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. SEBASTIAN Very well. ANTONIO And most chirurgeonly. GONZALO It is foul weather in us all, good sir, When you are cloudy. SEBASTIAN Foul weather? ANTONIO Very foul. GONZALO Had I plantation of this isle, my lord,-- ANTONIO He'ld sow't with nettle-seed. SEBASTIAN Or docks, or mallows. GONZALO And were the king on't, what would I do? SEBASTIAN 'Scape being drunk for want of wine. GONZALO I' the commonwealth I would by contraries Execute all things; for no kind of traffic Would I admit; no name of magistrate; Letters should not be known; riches, poverty, And use of service, none; contract, succession, Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none; No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil; No occupation; all men idle, all; And women too, but innocent and pure; No sovereignty;-- SEBASTIAN Yet he would be king on't. ANTONIO The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the beginning. GONZALO All things in common nature should produce Without sweat or endeavour: treason, felony, Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine, Would I not have; but nature should bring forth, Of its own kind, all foison, all abundance, To feed my innocent people. SEBASTIAN No marrying 'mong his subjects? ANTONIO None, man; all idle: whores and knaves. GONZALO I would with such perfection govern, sir, To excel the golden age. SEBASTIAN God save his majesty! ANTONIO Long live Gonzalo! GONZALO And,--do you mark me, sir? ALONSO Prithee, no more: thou dost talk nothing to me. GONZALO I do well believe your highness; and did it to minister occasion to these gentlemen, who are of such sensible and nimble lungs that they always use to laugh at nothing. ANTONIO 'Twas you we laughed at. GONZALO Who in this kind of merry fooling am nothing to you: so you may continue and laugh at nothing still. ANTONIO What a blow was there given! SEBASTIAN An it had not fallen flat-long. GONZALO You are gentlemen of brave metal; you would lift the moon out of her sphere, if she would continue in it five weeks without changing. [Enter ARIEL, invisible, playing solemn music] SEBASTIAN We would so, and then go a bat-fowling. ANTONIO Nay, good my lord, be not angry. GONZALO No, I warrant you; I will not adventure my discretion so weakly. Will you laugh me asleep, for I am very heavy? ANTONIO Go sleep, and hear us. [All sleep except ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, and ANTONIO] ALONSO What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: I find They are inclined to do so. SEBASTIAN Please you, sir, Do not omit the heavy offer of it: It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth, It is a comforter. ANTONIO We two, my lord, Will guard your person while you take your rest, And watch your safety. ALONSO Thank you. Wondrous heavy. [ALONSO sleeps. Exit ARIEL] SEBASTIAN What a strange drowsiness possesses them! ANTONIO It is the quality o' the climate. SEBASTIAN Why Doth it not then our eyelids sink? I find not Myself disposed to sleep. ANTONIO Nor I; my spirits are nimble. They fell together all, as by consent; They dropp'd, as by a thunder-stroke. What might, Worthy Sebastian? O, what might?--No more:-- And yet me thinks I see it in thy face, What thou shouldst be: the occasion speaks thee, and My strong imagination sees a crown Dropping upon thy head. SEBASTIAN What, art thou waking? ANTONIO Do you not hear me speak? SEBASTIAN I do; and surely It is a sleepy language and thou speak'st Out of thy sleep. What is it thou didst say? This is a strange repose, to be asleep With eyes wide open; standing, speaking, moving, And yet so fast asleep. ANTONIO Noble Sebastian, Thou let'st thy fortune sleep--die, rather; wink'st Whiles thou art waking. SEBASTIAN Thou dost snore distinctly; There's meaning in thy snores. ANTONIO I am more serious than my custom: you Must be so too, if heed me; which to do Trebles thee o'er. SEBASTIAN Well, I am standing water. ANTONIO I'll teach you how to flow. SEBASTIAN Do so: to ebb Hereditary sloth instructs me. ANTONIO 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. SEBASTIAN Prithee, say on: The setting of thine eye and cheek proclaim A matter from thee, and a birth indeed Which throes thee much to yield. ANTONIO Thus, sir: Although this lord of weak remembrance, this, Who shall be of as little memory When he is earth'd, hath here almost persuade,-- For he's a spirit of persuasion, only Professes to persuade,--the king his son's alive, 'Tis as impossible that he's undrown'd And he that sleeps here swims. SEBASTIAN I have no hope That he's undrown'd. ANTONIO 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. Will you grant with me That Ferdinand is drown'd? SEBASTIAN He's gone. ANTONIO Then, tell me, Who's the next heir of Naples? SEBASTIAN Claribel. ANTONIO She that is queen of Tunis; she that dwells Ten leagues beyond man's life; she that from Naples Can have no note, unless the sun were post-- The man i' the moon's too slow--till new-born chins Be rough and razorable; she that--from whom? We all were sea-swallow'd, though some cast again, And by that destiny to perform an act Whereof what's past is prologue, what to come In yours and my discharge. SEBASTIAN 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. ANTONIO A space whose every 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 seized them; why, they were no worse Than now they are. There be that can rule Naples As well as he that sleeps; lords that can prate As amply and unnecessarily As this Gonzalo; I myself could make A chough of as deep chat. O, that you bore The mind that I do! what a sleep were this For your advancement! Do you understand me? SEBASTIAN Methinks I do. ANTONIO And how does your content Tender your own good fortune? SEBASTIAN I remember You did supplant your brother Prospero. ANTONIO True: And look how well my garments sit upon me; Much feater than before: my brother's servants Were then my fellows; now they are my men. SEBASTIAN But, for your conscience? ANTONIO Ay, sir; where lies that? if 'twere a kibe, 'Twould put me to my slipper: but I feel not This deity in my bosom: twenty consciences, That stand 'twixt me and Milan, candied be they And melt ere they molest! Here lies your brother, No better than the earth he lies upon, If he were that which now he's like, that's dead; Whom I, with this obedient steel, three inches of it, Can lay to bed for ever; whiles you, doing thus, To the perpetual wink for aye might put This ancient morsel, this Sir Prudence, who Should not upbraid our course. 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. SEBASTIAN Thy case, dear friend, Shall be my precedent; as thou got'st Milan, I'll come by Naples. Draw thy sword: one stroke Shall free thee from the tribute which thou payest; And I the king shall love thee. ANTONIO Draw together; And when I rear my hand, do you the like, To fall it on Gonzalo. SEBASTIAN O, but one word. [They talk apart] [Re-enter ARIEL, invisible] ARIEL 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. [Sings in GONZALO's ear] While you here do snoring lie, Open-eyed conspiracy His time doth take. If of life you keep a care, Shake off slumber, and beware: Awake, awake! ANTONIO Then let us both be sudden. GONZALO Now, good angels Preserve the king. [They wake] ALONSO Why, how now? ho, awake! Why are you drawn? Wherefore this ghastly looking? GONZALO What's the matter? SEBASTIAN Whiles we stood here securing your repose, Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowing Like bulls, or rather lions: did't not wake you? It struck mine ear most terribly. ALONSO I heard nothing. ANTONIO O, 'twas a din to fright a monster's ear, To make an earthquake! sure, it was the roar Of a whole herd of lions. ALONSO Heard you this, Gonzalo? GONZALO Upon mine honour, sir, I heard a humming, And that a strange one too, which did awake me: I shaked you, sir, and cried: as mine eyes open'd, I saw their weapons drawn: there was a noise, That's verily. 'Tis best we stand upon our guard, Or that we quit this place; let's draw our weapons. ALONSO Lead off this ground; and let's make further search For my poor son. GONZALO Heavens keep him from these beasts! For he is, sure, i' the island. ALONSO Lead away. ARIEL Prospero my lord shall know what I have done: So, king, go safely on to seek thy son. [Exeunt] THE TEMPEST ACT II SCENE II Another part of the island. [Enter CALIBAN with a burden of wood. A noise of thunder heard] CALIBAN All the infections that the sun sucks up From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall and make him By inch-meal a disease! His spirits hear me And yet I needs must curse. But they'll nor pinch, Fright me with urchin--shows, pitch me i' the mire, Nor lead me, like a firebrand, in the dark Out of my way, unless he bid 'em; but For every trifle are they set upon me; Sometime like apes that mow and chatter at me And after bite me, then like hedgehogs which Lie tumbling in my barefoot way and mount Their pricks at my footfall; sometime am I All wound with adders who with cloven tongues Do hiss me into madness. [Enter TRINCULO] Lo, now, lo! Here comes a spirit of his, and to torment me For bringing wood in slowly. I'll fall flat; Perchance he will not mind me. TRINCULO Here's neither bush nor shrub, to bear off any weather at all, and another storm brewing; I hear it sing i' the wind: yond same black cloud, yond huge one, looks like a foul bombard that would shed his liquor. If it should thunder as it did before, I know not where to hide my head: yond same cloud cannot choose but fall by pailfuls. What have we here? a man or a fish? dead or alive? A fish: he smells like a fish; a very ancient and fish- like smell; a kind of not of the newest Poor- John. A strange fish! Were I in England now, as once I was, and had but this fish painted, not a holiday fool there but would give a piece of silver: there would this monster make a man; any strange beast there makes a man: when they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will lazy out ten to see a dead Indian. Legged like a man and his fins like arms! Warm o' my troth! I do now let loose my opinion; hold it no longer: this is no fish, but an islander, that hath lately suffered by a thunderbolt. [Thunder] Alas, the storm is come again! my best way is to creep under his gaberdine; there is no other shelter hereabouts: misery acquaints a man with strange bed-fellows. I will here shroud till the dregs of the storm be past. [Enter STEPHANO, singing: a bottle in his hand] STEPHANO I shall no more to sea, to sea, Here shall I die ashore-- This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man's funeral: well, here's my comfort. [Drinks] [Sings] The master, the swabber, the boatswain and I, The gunner and his mate Loved Mall, Meg and Marian and Margery, But none of us cared for Kate; For she had a tongue with a tang, Would cry to a sailor, Go hang! She loved not the savour of tar nor of pitch, Yet a tailor might scratch her where'er she did itch: Then to sea, boys, and let her go hang! This is a scurvy tune too: but here's my comfort. [Drinks] CALIBAN Do not torment me: Oh! STEPHANO What's the matter? Have we devils here? Do you put tricks upon's with savages and men of Ind, ha? I have not scaped drowning to be afeard now of your four legs; for it hath been said, As proper a man as ever went on four legs cannot make him give ground; and it shall be said so again while Stephano breathes at's nostrils. CALIBAN The spirit torments me; Oh! STEPHANO This is some monster of the isle with four legs, who hath got, as I take it, an ague. Where the devil should he learn our language? I will give him some relief, if it be but for that. 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. CALIBAN Do not torment me, prithee; I'll bring my wood home faster. STEPHANO He's in his fit now and does not talk after the wisest. He shall taste of my bottle: if he have never drunk wine afore will go near to remove his fit. If I can recover him and keep him tame, I will not take too much for him; he shall pay for him that hath him, and that soundly. CALIBAN Thou dost me yet but little hurt; thou wilt anon, I know it by thy trembling: now Prosper works upon thee. STEPHANO Come on your ways; open your mouth; here is that which will give language to you, cat: open your mouth; this will shake your shaking, I can tell you, and that soundly: you cannot tell who's your friend: open your chaps again. TRINCULO I should know that voice: it should be--but he is drowned; and these are devils: O defend me! STEPHANO Four legs and two voices: a most delicate monster! His forward voice now is to speak well of his friend; his backward voice is to utter foul speeches and to detract. If all the wine in my bottle will recover him, I will help his ague. Come. Amen! I will pour some in thy other mouth. TRINCULO Stephano! STEPHANO Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy, mercy! This is a devil, and no monster: I will leave him; I have no long spoon. TRINCULO Stephano! If thou beest Stephano, touch me and speak to me: for I am Trinculo--be not afeard--thy good friend Trinculo. STEPHANO If thou beest Trinculo, come forth: I'll pull thee by the lesser legs: if any be Trinculo's legs, these are they. Thou art very Trinculo indeed! How camest thou to be the siege of this moon-calf? can he vent Trinculos? TRINCULO I took him to be killed with a thunder-stroke. But art thou not drowned, Stephano? I hope now thou art not drowned. Is the storm overblown? I hid me under the dead moon-calf's gaberdine for fear of the storm. And art thou living, Stephano? O Stephano, two Neapolitans 'scaped! STEPHANO Prithee, do not turn me about; my stomach is not constant. CALIBAN [Aside] These be fine things, an if they be not sprites. That's a brave god and bears celestial liquor. I will kneel to him. STEPHANO How didst thou 'scape? How camest thou hither? swear by this bottle how thou camest hither. I escaped upon a butt of sack which the sailors heaved o'erboard, by this bottle; which I made of the bark of a tree with mine own hands since I was cast ashore. CALIBAN I'll swear upon that bottle to be thy true subject; for the liquor is not earthly. STEPHANO Here; swear then how thou escapedst. TRINCULO Swum ashore. man, like a duck: I can swim like a duck, I'll be sworn. STEPHANO Here, kiss the book. Though thou canst swim like a duck, thou art made like a goose. TRINCULO O Stephano. hast any more of this? STEPHANO The whole butt, man: my cellar is in a rock by the sea-side where my wine is hid. How now, moon-calf! how does thine ague? CALIBAN Hast thou not dropp'd from heaven? STEPHANO Out o' the moon, I do assure thee: I was the man i' the moon when time was. CALIBAN I have seen thee in her and I do adore thee: My mistress show'd me thee and thy dog and thy bush. STEPHANO Come, swear to that; kiss the book: I will furnish it anon with new contents swear. TRINCULO By this good light, this is a very shallow monster! I afeard of him! A very weak monster! The man i' the moon! A most poor credulous monster! Well drawn, monster, in good sooth! CALIBAN I'll show thee every fertile inch o' th' island; And I will kiss thy foot: I prithee, be my god. TRINCULO By this light, a most perfidious and drunken monster! when 's god's asleep, he'll rob his bottle. CALIBAN I'll kiss thy foot; I'll swear myself thy subject. STEPHANO Come on then; down, and swear. TRINCULO I shall laugh myself to death at this puppy-headed monster. A most scurvy monster! I could find in my heart to beat him,-- STEPHANO Come, kiss. TRINCULO But that the poor monster's in drink: an abominable monster! CALIBAN I'll show thee the best springs; I'll pluck thee berries; I'll fish for thee and get thee wood enough. A plague upon the tyrant that I serve! I'll bear him no more sticks, but follow thee, Thou wondrous man. TRINCULO A most ridiculous monster, to make a wonder of a Poor drunkard! CALIBAN I prithee, let me bring thee where crabs grow; And I with my long nails will dig thee pignuts; Show thee a jay's nest and instruct thee how To snare the nimble marmoset; I'll bring thee To clustering filberts and sometimes I'll get thee Young scamels from the rock. Wilt thou go with me? STEPHANO I prithee now, lead the way without any more talking. Trinculo, the king and all our company else being drowned, we will inherit here: here; bear my bottle: fellow Trinculo, we'll fill him by and by again. CALIBAN [Sings drunkenly] Farewell master; farewell, farewell! TRINCULO A howling monster: a drunken monster! CALIBAN No more dams I'll make for fish Nor fetch in firing At requiring; Nor scrape trencher, nor wash dish 'Ban, 'Ban, Cacaliban Has a new master: get a new man. Freedom, hey-day! hey-day, freedom! freedom, hey-day, freedom! STEPHANO O brave monster! Lead the way. [Exeunt] THE TEMPEST ACT III SCENE I Before PROSPERO'S Cell. [Enter FERDINAND, bearing a log] FERDINAND There be some sports are painful, and their labour Delight in them sets off: some kinds of baseness Are nobly undergone and most poor matters Point to rich ends. This my mean task Would be as heavy to me as odious, but The mistress which I serve quickens what's dead And makes my labours pleasures: O, she is Ten times more gentle than her father's crabbed, And he's composed of harshness. I must remove Some thousands of these logs and pile them up, Upon a sore injunction: my sweet mistress Weeps when she sees me work, and says, such baseness Had never like executor. I forget: But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my labours, Most busy lest, when I do it. [Enter MIRANDA; and PROSPERO at a distance, unseen] MIRANDA Alas, now, pray you, Work not so hard: I would the lightning had Burnt up those logs that you are enjoin'd to pile! Pray, set it down and rest you: when this burns, 'Twill weep for having wearied you. My father Is hard at study; pray now, rest yourself; He's safe for these three hours. FERDINAND O most dear mistress, The sun will set before I shall discharge What I must strive to do. MIRANDA If you'll sit down, I'll bear your logs the while: pray, give me that; I'll carry it to the pile. FERDINAND No, precious creature; I had rather crack my sinews, break my back, Than you should such dishonour undergo, While I sit lazy by. MIRANDA It would become me As well as it does you: and I should do it With much more ease; for my good will is to it, And yours it is against. PROSPERO Poor worm, thou art infected! This visitation shows it. MIRANDA You look wearily. FERDINAND No, noble mistress;'tis fresh morning with me When you are by at night. I do beseech you-- Chiefly that I might set it in my prayers-- What is your name? MIRANDA Miranda.--O my father, I have broke your hest to say so! FERDINAND Admired Miranda! Indeed the top of admiration! worth What's dearest to the world! Full many a lady I have eyed with best regard and many a time The harmony of their tongues hath into bondage Brought my too diligent ear: for several virtues Have I liked several women; never any With so fun soul, but some defect in her Did quarrel with the noblest grace she owed And put it to the foil: but you, O you, So perfect and so peerless, are created Of every creature's best! MIRANDA I do not know One of my sex; no woman's face remember, Save, from my glass, mine own; nor have I seen More that I may call men than you, good friend, And my dear father: how features are abroad, I am skilless of; but, by my modesty, The jewel in my dower, I would not wish Any companion in the world but you, Nor can imagination form a shape, Besides yourself, to like of. But I prattle Something too wildly and my father's precepts I therein do forget. FERDINAND 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. Hear my soul speak: The very instant that I saw you, did My heart fly to your service; there resides, To make me slave to it; and for your sake Am I this patient log--man. MIRANDA Do you love me? FERDINAND O heaven, O earth, bear witness to this sound And crown what I profess with kind event If I speak true! if hollowly, invert What best is boded me to mischief! I Beyond all limit of what else i' the world Do love, prize, honour you. MIRANDA I am a fool To weep at what I am glad of. PROSPERO Fair encounter Of two most rare affections! Heavens rain grace On that which breeds between 'em! FERDINAND Wherefore weep you? MIRANDA At mine unworthiness that dare not offer What I desire to give, and much less take What I shall die to want. But this is trifling; And all the more it seeks to hide itself, The bigger bulk it shows. Hence, bashful cunning! And prompt me, plain and holy innocence! I am your wife, it you will marry me; If not, I'll die your maid: to be your fellow You may deny me; but I'll be your servant, Whether you will or no. FERDINAND My mistress, dearest; And I thus humble ever. MIRANDA My husband, then? FERDINAND Ay, with a heart as willing As bondage e'er of freedom: here's my hand. MIRANDA And mine, with my heart in't; and now farewell Till half an hour hence. FERDINAND A thousand thousand! [Exeunt FERDINAND and MIRANDA severally] PROSPERO So glad of this as they I cannot be, Who are surprised withal; but my rejoicing At nothing can be more. I'll to my book, For yet ere supper-time must I perform Much business appertaining. [Exit] THE TEMPEST ACT III SCENE II Another part of the island. [Enter CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO] STEPHANO Tell not me; when the butt is out, we will drink water; not a drop before: therefore bear up, and board 'em. Servant-monster, drink to me. TRINCULO Servant-monster! the folly of this island! They say there's but five upon this isle: we are three of them; if th' other two be brained like us, the state totters. STEPHANO Drink, servant-monster, when I bid thee: thy eyes are almost set in thy head. TRINCULO Where should they be set else? he were a brave monster indeed, if they were set in his tail. STEPHANO My man-monster hath drown'd his tongue in sack: for my part, the sea cannot drown me; I swam, ere I could recover the shore, five and thirty leagues off and on. By this light, thou shalt be my lieutenant, monster, or my standard. TRINCULO Your lieutenant, if you list; he's no standard. STEPHANO We'll not run, Monsieur Monster. TRINCULO Nor go neither; but you'll lie like dogs and yet say nothing neither. STEPHANO Moon-calf, speak once in thy life, if thou beest a good moon-calf. CALIBAN How does thy honour? Let me lick thy shoe. I'll not serve him; he's not valiant. TRINCULO Thou liest, most ignorant monster: I am in case to justle a constable. Why, thou deboshed fish thou, was there ever man a coward that hath drunk so much sack as I to-day? Wilt thou tell a monstrous lie, being but half a fish and half a monster? CALIBAN Lo, how he mocks me! wilt thou let him, my lord? TRINCULO 'Lord' quoth he! That a monster should be such a natural! CALIBAN Lo, lo, again! bite him to death, I prithee. STEPHANO Trinculo, keep a good tongue in your head: if you prove a mutineer,--the next tree! The poor monster's my subject and he shall not suffer indignity. CALIBAN I thank my noble lord. Wilt thou be pleased to hearken once again to the suit I made to thee? STEPHANO Marry, will I kneel and repeat it; I will stand, and so shall Trinculo. [Enter ARIEL, invisible] CALIBAN As I told thee before, I am subject to a tyrant, a sorcerer, that by his cunning hath cheated me of the island. ARIEL Thou liest. CALIBAN Thou liest, thou jesting monkey, thou: I would my valiant master would destroy thee! I do not lie. STEPHANO Trinculo, if you trouble him any more in's tale, by this hand, I will supplant some of your teeth. TRINCULO Why, I said nothing. STEPHANO Mum, then, and no more. Proceed. CALIBAN I say, by sorcery he got this isle; From me he got it. if thy greatness will Revenge it on him,--for I know thou darest, But this thing dare not,-- STEPHANO That's most certain. CALIBAN Thou shalt be lord of it and I'll serve thee. STEPHANO How now shall this be compassed? Canst thou bring me to the party? CALIBAN Yea, yea, my lord: I'll yield him thee asleep, Where thou mayst knock a nail into his bead. ARIEL Thou liest; thou canst not. CALIBAN What a pied ninny's this! Thou scurvy patch! I do beseech thy greatness, give him blows And take his bottle from him: when that's gone He shall drink nought but brine; for I'll not show him Where the quick freshes are. STEPHANO 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. TRINCULO Why, what did I? I did nothing. I'll go farther off. STEPHANO Didst thou not say he lied? ARIEL Thou liest. STEPHANO Do I so? take thou that. [Beats TRINCULO] As you like this, give me the lie another time. TRINCULO I did not give the lie. Out o' your wits and bearing too? A pox o' your bottle! this can sack and drinking do. A murrain on your monster, and the devil take your fingers! CALIBAN Ha, ha, ha! STEPHANO Now, forward with your tale. Prithee, stand farther off. CALIBAN Beat him enough: after a little time I'll beat him too. STEPHANO Stand farther. Come, proceed. CALIBAN Why, as I told thee, 'tis a custom with him, I' th' afternoon to sleep: there thou mayst brain him, Having first seized his books, or with a log Batter his skull, or paunch him with a stake, Or cut his wezand with thy knife. Remember First to possess his books; for without them He's but a sot, as I am, nor hath not One spirit to command: they all do hate him As rootedly as I. Burn but his books. He has brave utensils,--for so he calls them-- Which when he has a house, he'll deck withal And that most deeply to consider is The beauty of his daughter; he himself Calls her a nonpareil: I never saw a woman, But only Sycorax my dam and she; But she as far surpasseth Sycorax As great'st does least. STEPHANO Is it so brave a lass? CALIBAN Ay, lord; she will become thy bed, I warrant. And bring thee forth brave brood. STEPHANO Monster, I will kill this man: his daughter and I will be king and queen--save our graces!--and Trinculo and thyself shall be viceroys. Dost thou like the plot, Trinculo? TRINCULO Excellent. STEPHANO Give me thy hand: I am sorry I beat thee; but, while thou livest, keep a good tongue in thy head. CALIBAN Within this half hour will he be asleep: Wilt thou destroy him then? STEPHANO Ay, on mine honour. ARIEL This will I tell my master. CALIBAN Thou makest me merry; I am full of pleasure: Let us be jocund: will you troll the catch You taught me but while-ere? STEPHANO At thy request, monster, I will do reason, any reason. Come on, Trinculo, let us sing. [Sings] Flout 'em and scout 'em And scout 'em and flout 'em Thought is free. CALIBAN That's not the tune. [Ariel plays the tune on a tabour and pipe] STEPHANO What is this same? TRINCULO This is the tune of our catch, played by the picture of Nobody. STEPHANO If thou beest a man, show thyself in thy likeness: if thou beest a devil, take't as thou list. TRINCULO O, forgive me my sins! STEPHANO He that dies pays all debts: I defy thee. Mercy upon us! CALIBAN Art thou afeard? STEPHANO No, monster, not I. CALIBAN Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises, Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not. Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments Will hum about mine ears, and sometime voices That, if I then had waked after long sleep, Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming, The clouds methought would open and show riches Ready to drop upon me that, when I waked, I cried to dream again. STEPHANO This will prove a brave kingdom to me, where I shall have my music for nothing. CALIBAN When Prospero is destroyed. STEPHANO That shall be by and by: I remember the story. TRINCULO The sound is going away; let's follow it, and after do our work. STEPHANO Lead, monster; we'll follow. I would I could see this tabourer; he lays it on. TRINCULO Wilt come? I'll follow, Stephano. [Exeunt] THE TEMPEST ACT III SCENE III Another part of the island. [Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GONZALO, ADRIAN, FRANCISCO, and others] GONZALO By'r lakin, I can go no further, sir; My old bones ache: here's a maze trod indeed Through forth-rights and meanders! By your patience, I needs must rest me. ALONSO Old lord, I cannot blame thee, Who am myself attach'd with weariness, To the dulling of my spirits: sit down, and rest. Even here I will put off my hope and keep it No longer for my flatterer: he is drown'd Whom thus we stray to find, and the sea mocks Our frustrate search on land. Well, let him go. ANTONIO [Aside to SEBASTIAN] I am right glad that he's so out of hope. Do not, for one repulse, forego the purpose That you resolved to effect. SEBASTIAN [Aside to ANTONIO] The next advantage Will we take throughly. ANTONIO [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. SEBASTIAN [Aside to ANTONIO] I say, to-night: no more. [Solemn and strange music] ALONSO What harmony is this? My good friends, hark! GONZALO Marvellous sweet music! [Enter PROSPERO above, invisible. Enter several strange Shapes, bringing in a banquet; they dance about it with gentle actions of salutation; and, inviting the King, &c. to eat, they depart] ALONSO Give us kind keepers, heavens! What were these? SEBASTIAN A living drollery. 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. ANTONIO I'll believe both; And what does else want credit, come to me, And I'll be sworn 'tis true: travellers ne'er did lie, Though fools at home condemn 'em. GONZALO If in Naples I should report this now, would they believe me? If I should say, I saw such islanders-- For, certes, these are people of the island-- Who, though they are of monstrous shape, yet, note, Their manners are more gentle-kind than of Our human generation you shall find Many, nay, almost any. PROSPERO [Aside] Honest lord, Thou hast said well; for some of you there present Are worse than devils. ALONSO I cannot too much muse Such shapes, such gesture and such sound, expressing, Although they want the use of tongue, a kind Of excellent dumb discourse. PROSPERO [Aside] Praise in departing. FRANCISCO They vanish'd strangely. SEBASTIAN No matter, since They have left their viands behind; for we have stomachs. Will't please you taste of what is here? ALONSO Not I. GONZALO Faith, sir, you need not fear. When we were boys, Who would believe that there were mountaineers Dew-lapp'd like bulls, whose throats had hanging at 'em Wallets of flesh? or that there were such men Whose heads stood in their breasts? which now we find Each putter-out of five for one will bring us Good warrant of. ALONSO I will stand to and feed, Although my last: no matter, since I feel The best is past. Brother, my lord the duke, Stand to and do as we. [Thunder and lightning. Enter ARIEL, like a harpy; claps his wings upon the table; and, with a quaint device, the banquet vanishes] ARIEL You are three men of sin, whom Destiny, That hath to instrument this lower world And what is in't, the never-surfeited sea Hath caused to belch up you; and on this island Where man doth not inhabit; you 'mongst men Being most unfit to live. I have made you mad; And even with such-like valour men hang and drown Their proper selves. [ALONSO, SEBASTIAN &c. draw their swords] You fools! I and my fellows Are ministers of Fate: the elements, Of whom your swords are temper'd, may as well Wound the loud winds, or with bemock'd-at stabs Kill the still-closing waters, as diminish One dowle that's in my plume: my fellow-ministers Are like invulnerable. If you could hurt, Your swords are now too massy for your strengths And will not be uplifted. But remember-- For that's my business to you--that you three From Milan did supplant good Prospero; Exposed unto the sea, which hath requit it, Him and his innocent child: for which foul deed The powers, delaying, not forgetting, have Incensed the seas and shores, yea, all the creatures, Against your peace. Thee of thy son, Alonso, They have bereft; and do pronounce by me: Lingering perdition, worse than any death Can be at once, shall step by step attend You and your ways; whose wraths to guard you from-- Which here, in this most desolate isle, else falls Upon your heads--is nothing but heart-sorrow And a clear life ensuing. [He vanishes in thunder; then, to soft music enter the Shapes again, and dance, with mocks and mows, and carrying out the table] PROSPERO Bravely the figure of this harpy hast thou Perform'd, my Ariel; a grace it had, devouring: Of my instruction hast thou nothing bated In what thou hadst to say: so, with good life And observation strange, my meaner ministers Their several kinds have done. My high charms work And these mine enemies are all knit up In their distractions; they now are in my power; And in these fits I leave them, while I visit Young Ferdinand, whom they suppose is drown'd, And his and mine loved darling. [Exit above] GONZALO I' the name of something holy, sir, why stand you In this strange stare? ALONSO 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, pronounced The name of Prosper: it did bass my trespass. Therefore my son i' the ooze is bedded, and I'll seek him deeper than e'er plummet sounded And with him there lie mudded. [Exit] SEBASTIAN But one fiend at a time, I'll fight their legions o'er. ANTONIO I'll be thy second. [Exeunt SEBASTIAN, and ANTONIO] GONZALO 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. ADRIAN Follow, I pray you. [Exeunt] THE TEMPEST ACT IV SCENE I Before PROSPERO'S cell. [Enter PROSPERO, FERDINAND, and MIRANDA] PROSPERO If I have too austerely punish'd you, Your compensation makes amends, for I Have given you here a third of mine own life, Or that for which I live; who once again I tender to thy hand: all thy vexations Were but my trials of thy love and thou Hast strangely stood the test here, afore Heaven, I ratify this my rich gift. O Ferdinand, Do not smile at me that I boast her off, For thou shalt find she will outstrip all praise And make it halt behind her. FERDINAND I do believe it Against an oracle. PROSPERO Then, as my gift and thine own acquisition Worthily purchased take my daughter: but If thou dost break her virgin-knot before All sanctimonious ceremonies may With full and holy rite be minister'd, No sweet aspersion shall the heavens let fall To make this contract grow: but barren hate, Sour-eyed disdain and discord shall bestrew The union of your bed with weeds so loathly That you shall hate it both: therefore take heed, As Hymen's lamps shall light you. FERDINAND As I hope For quiet days, fair issue and long life, With such love as 'tis now, the murkiest den, The most opportune place, the strong'st suggestion. Our worser genius can, shall never melt Mine honour into lust, to take away The edge of that day's celebration When I shall think: or Phoebus' steeds are founder'd, Or Night kept chain'd below. PROSPERO Fairly spoke. Sit then and talk with her; she is thine own. What, Ariel! my industrious servant, Ariel! [Enter ARIEL] ARIEL What would my potent master? here I am. PROSPERO Thou and thy meaner fellows your last service Did worthily perform; and I must use you In such another trick. Go bring the rabble, O'er whom I give thee power, here to this place: 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. ARIEL Presently? PROSPERO Ay, with a twink. ARIEL Before you can say 'come' and 'go,' And breathe twice and cry 'so, so,' Each one, tripping on his toe, Will be here with mop and mow. Do you love me, master? no? PROSPERO Dearly my delicate Ariel. Do not approach Till thou dost hear me call. ARIEL Well, I conceive. [Exit] PROSPERO Look thou be true; do not give dalliance Too much the rein: the strongest oaths are straw To the fire i' the blood: be more abstemious, Or else, good night your vow! FERDINAND I warrant you sir; The white cold virgin snow upon my heart Abates the ardour of my liver. PROSPERO Well. Now come, my Ariel! bring a corollary, Rather than want a spirit: appear and pertly! No tongue! all eyes! be silent. [Soft music] [Enter IRIS] IRIS Ceres, most bounteous lady, thy rich leas Of wheat, rye, barley, vetches, oats and pease; Thy turfy mountains, where live nibbling sheep, And flat meads thatch'd with stover, them to keep; Thy banks with pioned and twilled brims, Which spongy April at thy hest betrims, To make cold nymphs chaste crowns; and thy broom -groves, Whose shadow the dismissed bachelor loves, Being lass-lorn: thy pole-clipt vineyard; And thy sea-marge, sterile and rocky-hard, Where thou thyself dost air;--the queen o' the sky, Whose watery arch and messenger am I, Bids thee leave these, and with her sovereign grace, Here on this grass-plot, in this very place, To come and sport: her peacocks fly amain: Approach, rich Ceres, her to entertain. [Enter CERES] CERES Hail, many-colour'd messenger, that ne'er Dost disobey the wife of Jupiter; Who with thy saffron wings upon my flowers Diffusest honey-drops, refreshing showers, And with each end of thy blue bow dost crown My bosky acres and my unshrubb'd down, Rich scarf to my proud earth; why hath thy queen Summon'd me hither, to this short-grass'd green? IRIS A contract of true love to celebrate; And some donation freely to estate On the blest lovers. CERES Tell me, heavenly bow, If Venus or her son, as thou dost know, Do now attend the queen? Since they did plot The means that dusky Dis my daughter got, Her and her blind boy's scandal'd company I have forsworn. IRIS Of her society Be not afraid: I met her deity Cutting the clouds towards Paphos and her son Dove-drawn with her. Here thought they to have done Some wanton charm upon this man and maid, Whose vows are, that no bed-right shall be paid Till Hymen's torch be lighted: but vain; Mars's hot minion is returned again; Her waspish-headed son has broke his arrows, Swears he will shoot no more but play with sparrows And be a boy right out. CERES High'st queen of state, Great Juno, comes; I know her by her gait. [Enter JUNO] JUNO How does my bounteous sister? Go with me To bless this twain, that they may prosperous be And honour'd in their issue. [They sing:] JUNO Honour, riches, marriage-blessing, Long continuance, and increasing, Hourly joys be still upon you! Juno sings her blessings upon you. CERES Earth's increase, foison plenty, Barns and garners never empty, Vines and clustering bunches growing, Plants with goodly burthen bowing; Spring come to you at the farthest In the very end of harvest! Scarcity and want shall shun you; Ceres' blessing so is on you. FERDINAND This is a most majestic vision, and Harmoniously charmingly. May I be bold To think these spirits? PROSPERO Spirits, which by mine art I have from their confines call'd to enact My present fancies. FERDINAND Let me live here ever; So rare a wonder'd father and a wife Makes this place Paradise. [Juno and Ceres whisper, and send Iris on employment] PROSPERO Sweet, now, silence! Juno and Ceres whisper seriously; There's something else to do: hush, and be mute, Or else our spell is marr'd. IRIS You nymphs, call'd Naiads, of the windring brooks, With your sedged crowns and ever-harmless looks, Leave your crisp channels and on this green land Answer your summons; Juno does command: Come, temperate nymphs, and help to celebrate A contract of true love; be not too late. [Enter certain Nymphs] You sunburnt sicklemen, of August weary, Come hither from the furrow and be merry: Make holiday; your rye-straw hats put on And these fresh nymphs encounter every one In country footing. [Enter certain Reapers, properly habited: they join with the Nymphs in a graceful dance; towards the end whereof PROSPERO starts suddenly, and speaks; after which, to a strange, hollow, and confused noise, they heavily vanish] PROSPERO [Aside] I had forgot that foul conspiracy Of the beast Caliban and his confederates Against my life: the minute of their plot Is almost come. [To the Spirits] Well done! avoid; no more! FERDINAND This is strange: your father's in some passion That works him strongly. MIRANDA Never till this day Saw I him touch'd with anger so distemper'd. PROSPERO You do look, my son, in a moved sort, As if you were dismay'd: be cheerful, sir. Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits and Are melted into air, into thin air: And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Ye all which it inherit, shall dissolve And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on, and our little life Is rounded with a sleep. Sir, I am vex'd; Bear with my weakness; my, brain is troubled: Be not disturb'd with my infirmity: If you be pleased, retire into my cell And there repose: a turn or two I'll walk, To still my beating mind. FERDINAND | | We wish your peace. MIRANDA | [Exeunt] PROSPERO Come with a thought I thank thee, Ariel: come. [Enter ARIEL] ARIEL Thy thoughts I cleave to. What's thy pleasure? PROSPERO Spirit, We must prepare to meet with Caliban. ARIEL Ay, my commander: when I presented Ceres, I thought to have told thee of it, but I fear'd Lest I might anger thee. PROSPERO Say again, where didst thou leave these varlets? ARIEL I told you, sir, they were red-hot with drinking; So fun 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 tabour; At which, like unback'd colts, they prick'd their ears, Advanced their eyelids, lifted up their noses As they smelt music: so I charm'd their ears That calf-like they my lowing follow'd through Tooth'd briers, sharp furzes, pricking goss and thorns, Which entered their frail shins: at last I left them I' the filthy-mantled pool beyond your cell, There dancing up to the chins, that the foul lake O'erstunk their feet. PROSPERO This was well done, my bird. Thy shape invisible retain thou still: The trumpery in my house, go bring it hither, For stale to catch these thieves. ARIEL I go, I go. [Exit] PROSPERO A devil, a born devil, on whose nature Nurture can never stick; on whom my pains, Humanely taken, all, all lost, quite lost; And as with age his body uglier grows, So his mind cankers. I will plague them all, Even to roaring. [Re-enter ARIEL, loaden with glistering apparel, &c] Come, hang them on this line. [PROSPERO and ARIEL remain invisible. Enter CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO, all wet] CALIBAN Pray you, tread softly, that the blind mole may not Hear a foot fall: we now are near his cell. STEPHANO Monster, your fairy, which you say is a harmless fairy, has done little better than played the Jack with us. TRINCULO Monster, I do smell all horse-piss; at which my nose is in great indignation. STEPHANO So is mine. Do you hear, monster? If I should take a displeasure against you, look you,-- TRINCULO Thou wert but a lost monster. CALIBAN Good my lord, give me thy favour still. Be patient, for the prize I'll bring thee to Shall hoodwink this mischance: therefore speak softly. All's hush'd as midnight yet. TRINCULO Ay, but to lose our bottles in the pool,-- STEPHANO There is not only disgrace and dishonour in that, monster, but an infinite loss. TRINCULO That's more to me than my wetting: yet this is your harmless fairy, monster. STEPHANO I will fetch off my bottle, though I be o'er ears for my labour. CALIBAN Prithee, my king, be quiet. Seest thou here, This is the mouth o' the cell: no noise, and enter. Do that good mischief which may make this island Thine own for ever, and I, thy Caliban, For aye thy foot-licker. STEPHANO Give me thy hand. I do begin to have bloody thoughts. TRINCULO O king Stephano! O peer! O worthy Stephano! look what a wardrobe here is for thee! CALIBAN Let it alone, thou fool; it is but trash. TRINCULO O, ho, monster! we know what belongs to a frippery. O king Stephano! STEPHANO Put off that gown, Trinculo; by this hand, I'll have that gown. TRINCULO Thy grace shall have it. CALIBAN The dropsy drown this fool I what do you mean To dote thus on such luggage? Let's alone And do the murder first: if he awake, From toe to crown he'll fill our skins with pinches, Make us strange stuff. STEPHANO Be you quiet, monster. Mistress line, is not this my jerkin? Now is the jerkin under the line: now, jerkin, you are like to lose your hair and prove a bald jerkin. TRINCULO Do, do: we steal by line and level, an't like your grace. STEPHANO I thank thee for that jest; here's a garment for't: wit shall not go unrewarded while I am king of this country. 'Steal by line and level' is an excellent pass of pate; there's another garment for't. TRINCULO Monster, come, put some lime upon your fingers, and away with the rest. CALIBAN I will have none on't: we shall lose our time, And all be turn'd to barnacles, or to apes With foreheads villanous low. STEPHANO Monster, lay-to your fingers: help to bear this away where my hogshead of wine is, or I'll turn you out of my kingdom: go to, carry this. TRINCULO And this. STEPHANO Ay, and this. [A noise of hunters heard. Enter divers Spirits, in shape of dogs and hounds, and hunt them about, PROSPERO and ARIEL setting them on] PROSPERO Hey, Mountain, hey! ARIEL Silver I there it goes, Silver! PROSPERO Fury, Fury! there, Tyrant, there! hark! hark! [CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO, are driven out] Go charge my goblins that they grind their joints With dry convulsions, shorten up their sinews With aged cramps, and more pinch-spotted make them Than pard or cat o' mountain. ARIEL Hark, they roar! PROSPERO Let them be hunted soundly. At this hour Lie at my mercy all mine enemies: Shortly shall all my labours end, and thou Shalt have the air at freedom: for a little Follow, and do me service. [Exeunt] THE TEMPEST ACT V SCENE I Before PROSPERO'S cell. [Enter PROSPERO in his magic robes, and ARIEL] PROSPERO Now does my project gather to a head: My charms crack not; my spirits obey; and time Goes upright with his carriage. How's the day? ARIEL On the sixth hour; at which time, my lord, You said our work should cease. PROSPERO I did say so, When first I raised the tempest. Say, my spirit, How fares the king and's followers? ARIEL Confined 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. The king, His brother and yours, abide all three distracted And the remainder mourning over them, Brimful of sorrow and dismay; but chiefly Him that you term'd, sir, 'The good old lord Gonzalo;' His tears run down his beard, like winter's drops From eaves of reeds. Your charm so strongly works 'em That if you now beheld them, your affections Would become tender. PROSPERO Dost thou think so, spirit? ARIEL Mine would, sir, were I human. PROSPERO And mine shall. 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 moved than thou art? Though with their high wrongs I am struck to the quick, Yet with my nobler reason 'gaitist 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. ARIEL I'll fetch them, sir. [Exit] PROSPERO Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes and groves, And ye that on the sands with printless foot Do chase the ebbing Neptune and do fly him When he comes back; you demi-puppets that By moonshine do the green sour ringlets make, Whereof the ewe not bites, and you whose pastime Is to make midnight mushrooms, that rejoice To hear the solemn curfew; by whose aid, Weak masters though ye be, I have bedimm'd The noontide sun, call'd forth the mutinous winds, And 'twixt the green sea and the azured vault Set roaring war: to the dread rattling thunder Have I given fire and rifted Jove's stout oak With his own bolt; the strong-based promontory Have I made shake and by the spurs pluck'd up The pine and cedar: graves at my command Have waked their sleepers, oped, and let 'em forth By my so potent art. But this rough magic I here abjure, and, when I have required Some heavenly music, which even now I do, To work mine end upon their senses that This airy charm is for, I'll break my staff, Bury it certain fathoms in the earth, And deeper than did ever plummet sound I'll drown my book. [Solemn music] [Re-enter ARIEL before: then ALONSO, with a frantic gesture, attended by GONZALO; SEBASTIAN and ANTONIO in like manner, attended by ADRIAN and FRANCISCO they all enter the circle which PROSPERO had made, and there stand charmed; which PROSPERO observing, speaks:] A solemn air and the best comforter To an unsettled fancy cure thy brains, Now useless, boil'd within thy skull! There stand, For you are spell-stopp'd. Holy Gonzalo, honourable man, Mine eyes, even sociable to the show of thine, Fall fellowly drops. 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. O good Gonzalo, My true preserver, and a loyal sir To him you follow'st! I will pay thy graces Home both in word and deed. Most cruelly Didst thou, Alonso, use me and my daughter: Thy brother was a furtherer in the act. Thou art pinch'd fort now, Sebastian. Flesh and blood, You, brother mine, that entertain'd ambition, Expell'd remorse and nature; who, with Sebastian, Whose inward pinches therefore are most strong, Would here have kill'd your king; I do forgive thee, Unnatural though thou art. Their understanding Begins to swell, and the approaching tide Will shortly fill the reasonable shore That now lies foul and muddy. Not one of them That yet looks on me, or would know me Ariel, Fetch me the hat and rapier in my cell: I will discase me, and myself present As I was sometime Milan: quickly, spirit; Thou shalt ere long be free. [ARIEL 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. On the bat's back I do fly After summer merrily. Merrily, merrily shall I live now Under the blossom that hangs on the bough. PROSPERO Why, that's my dainty Ariel! I shall miss thee: But yet thou shalt have freedom: so, so, so. 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. ARIEL I drink the air before me, and return Or ere your pulse twice beat. [Exit] GONZALO All torment, trouble, wonder and amazement Inhabits here: some heavenly power guide us Out of this fearful country! PROSPERO Behold, sir king, The wronged Duke of Milan, Prospero: For more assurance that a living prince Does now speak to thee, I embrace thy body; And to thee and thy company I bid A hearty welcome. ALONSO Whether thou best he or no, Or some enchanted trifle to abuse me, As late I have been, I not know: thy pulse Beats as of flesh and blood; and, since I saw thee, The affliction of my mind amends, with which, I fear, a madness held me: this must crave, An if this be at all, a most strange story. Thy dukedom I resign and do entreat Thou pardon me my wrongs. But how should Prospero Be living and be here? PROSPERO First, noble friend, Let me embrace thine age, whose honour cannot Be measured or confined. GONZALO Whether this be Or be not, I'll not swear. PROSPERO You do yet taste Some subtilties o' the isle, that will not let you Believe things certain. Welcome, my friends all! [Aside to SEBASTIAN and ANTONIO] But you, my brace of lords, were I so minded, I here could pluck his highness' frown upon you And justify you traitors: at this time I will tell no tales. SEBASTIAN [Aside] The devil speaks in him. PROSPERO No. For you, most wicked sir, whom to call brother Would even infect my mouth, I do forgive Thy rankest fault; all of them; and require My dukedom of thee, which perforce, I know, Thou must restore. ALONSO If thou be'st Prospero, Give us particulars of thy preservation; How thou hast met us here, who three hours since Were wreck'd upon this shore; where I have lost-- How sharp the point of this remembrance is!-- My dear son Ferdinand. PROSPERO I am woe for't, sir. ALONSO Irreparable is the loss, and patience Says it is past her cure. PROSPERO I rather think You have not sought her help, of whose soft grace For the like loss I have her sovereign aid And rest myself content. ALONSO You the like loss! PROSPERO As great to me as late; and, supportable To make the dear loss, have I means much weaker Than you may call to comfort you, for I Have lost my daughter. ALONSO A daughter? O heavens, that they were living both in Naples, The king and queen there! that they were, I wish Myself were mudded in that oozy bed Where my son lies. When did you lose your daughter? PROSPERO In this last tempest. 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 wreck'd, was landed, To be the lord on't. No more yet of this; For 'tis a chronicle of day by day, Not a relation for a breakfast nor Befitting this first meeting. Welcome, sir; This cell's my court: here have I few attendants And subjects none abroad: pray you, look in. My dukedom since you have given me again, I will requite you with as good a thing; At least bring forth a wonder, to content ye As much as me my dukedom. [Here PROSPERO discovers FERDINAND and MIRANDA playing at chess] MIRANDA Sweet lord, you play me false. FERDINAND No, my dear'st love, I would not for the world. MIRANDA Yes, for a score of kingdoms you should wrangle, And I would call it, fair play. ALONSO If this prove A vision of the Island, one dear son Shall I twice lose. SEBASTIAN A most high miracle! FERDINAND Though the seas threaten, they are merciful; I have cursed them without cause. [Kneels] ALONSO Now all the blessings Of a glad father compass thee about! Arise, and say how thou camest here. MIRANDA O, wonder! How many goodly creatures are there here! How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world, That has such people in't! PROSPERO 'Tis new to thee. ALONSO What is this maid with whom thou wast at play? Your eld'st acquaintance cannot be three hours: Is she the goddess that hath sever'd us, And brought us thus together? FERDINAND Sir, she is mortal; But by immortal Providence she's mine: I chose her when I could not ask my father For his advice, nor thought I had one. She Is daughter to this famous Duke of Milan, Of whom so often I have heard renown, But never saw before; of whom I have Received a second life; and second father This lady makes him to me. ALONSO I am hers: But, O, how oddly will it sound that I Must ask my child forgiveness! PROSPERO There, sir, stop: Let us not burthen our remembrance with A heaviness that's gone. GONZALO I have inly wept, Or should have spoke ere this. Look down, you god, And on this couple drop a blessed crown! For it is you that have chalk'd forth the way Which brought us hither. ALONSO I say, Amen, Gonzalo! GONZALO Was Milan thrust from Milan, that his issue Should become kings of Naples? O, rejoice Beyond a common joy, and set it down With gold on lasting pillars: In one voyage Did Claribel her husband find at Tunis, And Ferdinand, her brother, found a wife Where he himself was lost, Prospero his dukedom In a poor isle and all of us ourselves When no man was his own. ALONSO [To FERDINAND and MIRANDA] Give me your hands: Let grief and sorrow still embrace his heart That doth not wish you joy! GONZALO Be it so! Amen! [Re-enter ARIEL, with the Master and Boatswain amazedly following] O, look, sir, look, sir! here is more of us: I prophesied, if a gallows were on land, This fellow could not drown. Now, blasphemy, That swear'st grace o'erboard, not an oath on shore? Hast thou no mouth by land? What is the news? Boatswain The best news is, that we have safely found Our king and company; the next, our ship-- Which, but three glasses since, we gave out split-- Is tight and yare and bravely rigg'd as when We first put out to sea. ARIEL [Aside to PROSPERO] Sir, all this service Have I done since I went. PROSPERO [Aside to ARIEL] My tricksy spirit! ALONSO These are not natural events; they strengthen From strange to stranger. Say, how came you hither? Boatswain If I did think, sir, I were well awake, I'ld strive to tell you. We were dead of sleep, And--how we know not--all clapp'd under hatches; Where but even now with strange and several noises Of roaring, shrieking, howling, jingling chains, And more diversity of sounds, all horrible, We were awaked; straightway, at liberty; Where we, in all her trim, freshly beheld Our royal, good and gallant ship, our master Capering to eye her: on a trice, so please you, Even in a dream, were we divided from them And were brought moping hither. ARIEL [Aside to PROSPERO] Was't well done? PROSPERO [Aside to ARIEL] Bravely, my diligence. Thou shalt be free. ALONSO This is as strange a maze as e'er men trod And there is in this business more than nature Was ever conduct of: some oracle Must rectify our knowledge. PROSPERO Sir, my liege, Do not infest your mind with beating on The strangeness of this business; at pick'd leisure Which shall be shortly, single I'll resolve you, Which to you shall seem probable, of every These happen'd accidents; till when, be cheerful And think of each thing well. [Aside to ARIEL] Come hither, spirit: Set Caliban and his companions free; Untie the spell. [Exit ARIEL] How fares my gracious sir? There are yet missing of your company Some few odd lads that you remember not. [Re-enter ARIEL, driving in CALIBAN, STEPHANO and TRINCULO, in their stolen apparel] STEPHANO Every man shift for all the rest, and let no man take care for himself; for all is but fortune. Coragio, bully-monster, coragio! TRINCULO If these be true spies which I wear in my head, here's a goodly sight. CALIBAN O Setebos, these be brave spirits indeed! How fine my master is! I am afraid He will chastise me. SEBASTIAN Ha, ha! What things are these, my lord Antonio? Will money buy 'em? ANTONIO Very like; one of them Is a plain fish, and, no doubt, marketable. PROSPERO Mark but the badges of these men, my lords, Then say if they be true. This mis-shapen knave, His mother was a witch, and one so strong That could control the moon, make flows and ebbs, And deal in her command without her power. These three have robb'd me; and this demi-devil-- For he's a bastard one--had plotted with them To take my life. Two of these fellows you Must know and own; this thing of darkness! Acknowledge mine. CALIBAN I shall be pinch'd to death. ALONSO Is not this Stephano, my drunken butler? SEBASTIAN He is drunk now: where had he wine? ALONSO And Trinculo is reeling ripe: where should they Find this grand liquor that hath gilded 'em? How camest thou in this pickle? TRINCULO I have been in such a pickle since I saw you last that, I fear me, will never out of my bones: I shall not fear fly-blowing. SEBASTIAN Why, how now, Stephano! STEPHANO O, touch me not; I am not Stephano, but a cramp. PROSPERO You'ld be king o' the isle, sirrah? STEPHANO I should have been a sore one then. ALONSO This is a strange thing as e'er I look'd on. [Pointing to Caliban] PROSPERO He is as disproportion'd in his manners As in his shape. Go, sirrah, to my cell; Take with you your companions; as you look To have my pardon, trim it handsomely. CALIBAN Ay, that I will; and I'll be wise hereafter And seek for grace. What a thrice-double ass Was I, to take this drunkard for a god And worship this dull fool! PROSPERO Go to; away! ALONSO Hence, and bestow your luggage where you found it. SEBASTIAN Or stole it, rather. [Exeunt CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO] PROSPERO Sir, I invite your highness and your train To my poor cell, where you shall take your rest For this one night; which, part of it, I'll waste With such discourse as, I not doubt, shall make it Go quick away; the story of my life And the particular accidents gone by Since I came to this isle: and in the morn I'll bring you to your ship and so to Naples, Where I have hope to see the nuptial Of these our dear-beloved solemnized; And thence retire me to my Milan, where Every third thought shall be my grave. ALONSO I long To hear the story of your life, which must Take the ear strangely. PROSPERO I'll deliver all; And promise you calm seas, auspicious gales And sail so expeditious that shall catch Your royal fleet far off. [Aside to ARIEL] My Ariel, chick, That is thy charge: then to the elements Be free, and fare thou well! Please you, draw near. [Exeunt] THE TEMPEST EPILOGUE SPOKEN BY PROSPERO Now my charms are all o'erthrown, And what strength I have's mine own, Which is most faint: now, 'tis true, I must be here confined by you, Or sent to Naples. 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: Gentle breath of yours my sails Must fill, or else my project fails, Which was to please. Now I want Spirits to enforce, art to enchant, And my ending is despair, Unless I be relieved by prayer, Which pierces so that it assaults Mercy itself and frees all faults. As you from crimes would pardon'd be, Let your indulgence set me free. The Complete Shakespeare: TRAGEDIES ----------------------------------- TITUS ANDRONICUS DRAMATIS PERSONAE SATURNINUS son to the late Emperor of Rome, and afterwards declared Emperor. BASSIANUS brother to Saturninus; in love with Lavinia. TITUS ANDRONICUS a noble Roman, general against the Goths. MARCUS ANDRONICUS tribune of the people, and brother to Titus. LUCIUS | | QUINTUS | | sons to Titus Andronicus. MARTIUS | | MUTIUS | Young LUCIUS a boy, son to Lucius. PUBLIUS son to Marcus the Tribune. SEMPRONIUS | | CAIUS | kinsmen to Titus. | VALENTINE | AEMILIUS a noble Roman. ALARBUS | | DEMETRIUS | sons to Tamora. | CHIRON | AARON a Moor, beloved by Tamora. A Captain, Tribune, Messenger, and Clown; Romans. (Captain:) (Messenger:) (Clown:) Goths and Romans. (First Goth:) (Second Goth:) (Third Goth:) TAMORA Queen of the Goths. LAVINIA daughter of Titus Andronicus. A Nurse. (Nurse:) Senators, Tribunes, Officers, Soldiers, and Attendants. SCENE Rome, and the country near it. TITUS ANDRONICUS ACT I SCENE I Rome. Before the Capitol. [The Tomb of the ANDRONICI appearing; the Tribunes and Senators aloft. Enter, below, from one side, SATURNINUS and his Followers; and, from the other side, BASSIANUS and his Followers; with drum and colours] SATURNINUS Noble patricians, patrons of my right, Defend the justice of my cause with arms, And, countrymen, my loving followers, Plead my successive title with your swords: I am his first-born son, that was the last That wore the imperial diadem of Rome; Then let my father's honours live in me, Nor wrong mine age with this indignity. BASSIANUS Romans, friends, followers, favorers of my right, If ever Bassianus, Caesar's son, Were gracious in the eyes of royal Rome, Keep then this passage to the Capitol And suffer not dishonour to approach The imperial seat, to virtue consecrate, To justice, continence and nobility; But let desert in pure election shine, And, Romans, fight for freedom in your choice. [Enter MARCUS ANDRONICUS, aloft, with the crown] MARCUS ANDRONICUS Princes, that strive by factions and by friends Ambitiously for rule and empery, Know that the people of Rome, for whom we stand A special party, have, by common voice, In election for the Roman empery, Chosen Andronicus, surnamed Pius For many good and great deserts to Rome: A nobler man, a braver warrior, Lives not this day within the city walls: He by the senate is accit'd home From weary wars against the barbarous Goths; That, with his sons, a terror to our foes, Hath yoked a nation strong, train'd up in arms. 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 now at last, laden with horror's spoils, Returns the good Andronicus to Rome, Renowned Titus, flourishing in arms. Let us entreat, by honour of his name, Whom worthily you would have now succeed. And in the Capitol and senate's right, Whom you pretend to honour and adore, That you withdraw you and abate your strength; Dismiss your followers and, as suitors should, Plead your deserts in peace and humbleness. SATURNINUS How fair the tribune speaks to calm my thoughts! BASSIANUS Marcus Andronicus, so I do ally In thy uprightness and integrity, And so I love and honour thee and thine, Thy noble brother Titus and his sons, And her to whom my thoughts are humbled all, Gracious Lavinia, Rome's rich ornament, That I will here dismiss my loving friends, And to my fortunes and the people's favor Commit my cause in balance to be weigh'd. [Exeunt the followers of BASSIANUS] SATURNINUS Friends, that have been thus forward in my right, I thank you all and here dismiss you all, And to the love and favor of my country Commit myself, my person and the cause. [Exeunt the followers of SATURNINUS] Rome, be as just and gracious unto me As I am confident and kind to thee. Open the gates, and let me in. BASSIANUS Tribunes, and me, a poor competitor. [Flourish. SATURNINUS and BASSIANUS go up into the Capitol] [Enter a Captain] Captain Romans, make way: 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. [Drums and trumpets sounded. Enter MARTIUS and MUTIUS; After them, two Men bearing a coffin covered with black; then LUCIUS and QUINTUS. After them, TITUS ANDRONICUS; and then TAMORA, with ALARBUS, DEMETRIUS, CHIRON, AARON, and other Goths, prisoners; Soldiers and people following. The Bearers set down the coffin, and TITUS speaks] TITUS ANDRONICUS Hail, Rome, victorious in thy mourning weeds! Lo, as the bark, that hath discharged her fraught, Returns with precious jading to the bay From whence at first she weigh'd her anchorage, Cometh Andronicus, bound with laurel boughs, To re-salute his country with his tears, Tears of true joy for his return to Rome. 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: Here Goths have given me leave to sheathe my sword. 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. [The tomb is opened] There greet in silence, as the dead are wont, And sleep in peace, slain in your country's wars! O sacred receptacle of my joys, Sweet cell of virtue and nobility, How many sons of mine hast thou in store, That thou wilt never render to me more! LUCIUS Give us the proudest prisoner of the Goths, That we may hew his limbs, and on a pile Ad manes fratrum sacrifice his flesh, Before this earthy prison of their bones; That so the shadows be not unappeased, Nor we disturb'd with prodigies on earth. TITUS ANDRONICUS I give him you, the noblest that survives, The eldest son of this distressed queen. TAMORA Stay, Roman brethren! 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 slaughter'd 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. Andronicus, stain not thy tomb with blood: Wilt thou draw near the nature of the gods? Draw near them then in being merciful: Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge: Thrice noble Titus, spare my first-born son. TITUS ANDRONICUS Patient yourself, madam, and pardon me. These are their brethren, whom you 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, To appease their groaning shadows that are gone. LUCIUS 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 consumed. [Exeunt LUCIUS, QUINTUS, MARTIUS, and MUTIUS, with ALARBUS] TAMORA O cruel, irreligious piety! CHIRON Was ever Scythia half so barbarous? DEMETRIUS Oppose not Scythia to ambitious Rome. Alarbus goes to rest; and we survive To tremble under Titus' threatening looks. Then, madam, stand resolved, 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 favor Tamora, the Queen of Goths-- When Goths were Goths and Tamora was queen-- To quit the bloody wrongs upon her foes. [Re-enter LUCIUS, QUINTUS, MARTIUS and MUTIUS, with their swords bloody] LUCIUS See, lord and father, how we have perform'd Our Roman rites: 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 Let it be so; and let Andronicus Make this his latest farewell to their souls. [Trumpets sounded, and the coffin laid in the tomb] In peace and honour rest you here, my sons; Rome's readiest champions, repose you here in rest, Secure from worldly chances and mishaps! Here lurks no treason, here no envy swells, Here grow no damned grudges; here are no storms, No noise, but silence and eternal sleep: In peace and honour rest you here, my sons! [Enter LAVINIA] LAVINIA In peace and honour live Lord Titus long; My noble lord and father, live in fame! Lo, at this tomb my tributary tears I render, for my brethren's obsequies; And at thy feet I kneel, with tears of joy, Shed on the earth, for thy return to Rome: O, bless me here with thy victorious hand, Whose fortunes Rome's best citizens applaud! TITUS ANDRONICUS Kind Rome, that hast thus lovingly reserved The cordial of mine age to glad my heart! Lavinia, live; outlive thy father's days, And fame's eternal date, for virtue's praise! [Enter, below, MARCUS ANDRONICUS and Tribunes; re-enter SATURNINUS and BASSIANUS, attended] MARCUS ANDRONICUS Long live Lord Titus, my beloved brother, Gracious triumpher in the eyes of Rome! TITUS ANDRONICUS Thanks, gentle tribune, noble brother Marcus. MARCUS ANDRONICUS And welcome, nephews, from successful wars, You that survive, and you that sleep in fame! Fair lords, your fortunes are alike in all, That in your country's service drew your swords: But safer triumph is this funeral pomp, That hath aspired to Solon's happiness And triumphs over chance in honour's bed. Titus Andronicus, the people of Rome, Whose friend in justice thou hast ever been, Send thee by me, their tribune and their trust, This palliament of white and spotless hue; And name thee in election for the empire, With these our late-deceased emperor's sons: Be candidatus then, and put it on, And help to set a head on headless Rome. TITUS ANDRONICUS A better head her glorious body fits Than his that shakes for age and feebleness: 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 Give me a staff of honour for mine age, But not a sceptre to control the world: Upright he held it, lords, that held it last. MARCUS ANDRONICUS Titus, thou shalt obtain and ask the empery. SATURNINUS Proud and ambitious tribune, canst thou tell? TITUS ANDRONICUS Patience, Prince Saturninus. SATURNINUS Romans, do me right: Patricians, draw your swords: and sheathe them not Till Saturninus be Rome's emperor. Andronicus, would thou wert shipp'd to hell, Rather than rob me of the people's hearts! LUCIUS Proud Saturnine, interrupter of the good That noble-minded Titus means to thee! TITUS ANDRONICUS Content thee, prince; I will restore to thee The people's hearts, and wean them from themselves. BASSIANUS Andronicus, I do not flatter thee, But honour thee, and will do till I die: My faction if thou strengthen with thy friends, I will most thankful be; and thanks to men Of noble minds is honourable meed. TITUS ANDRONICUS People of Rome, and people's tribunes here, I ask your voices and your suffrages: Will you bestow them friendly on Andronicus? Tribunes To gratify the good Andronicus, And gratulate his safe return to Rome, The people will accept whom he admits. TITUS ANDRONICUS Tribunes, I thank you: and this suit I make, That you create your emperor's eldest son, Lord Saturnine; whose virtues will, I hope, Reflect on Rome as Titan's rays on earth, And ripen justice in this commonweal: Then, if you will elect by my advice, Crown him and say 'Long live our emperor!' MARCUS ANDRONICUS With voices and applause of every sort, Patricians and plebeians, we create Lord Saturninus Rome's great emperor, And say 'Long live our Emperor Saturnine!' [A long flourish till they come down] SATURNINUS Titus Andronicus, for thy favors 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 empress, Rome's royal mistress, mistress of my heart, And in the sacred Pantheon her espouse: Tell me, Andronicus, doth this motion please thee? TITUS ANDRONICUS It doth, my worthy lord; and in this match I hold me highly honour'd of your grace: And here in sight of Rome to Saturnine, King and commander of our commonweal, The wide world's emperor, do I consecrate My sword, my chariot and my prisoners; Presents well worthy Rome's imperial lord: Receive them then, the tribute that I owe, Mine honour's ensigns humbled at thy feet. SATURNINUS Thanks, noble Titus, father of my life! How proud I am of thee and of thy gifts Rome shall record, and when I do forget The least of these unspeakable deserts, Romans, forget your fealty to me. TITUS ANDRONICUS [To TAMORA] Now, madam, are you prisoner to an emperor; To him that, for your honour and your state, Will use you nobly and your followers. SATURNINUS A goodly lady, trust me; of the hue That I would choose, were I to choose anew. Clear up, fair queen, that cloudy countenance: Though chance of war hath wrought this change of cheer, Thou comest not to be made a scorn in Rome: Princely shall be thy usage every way. Rest on my word, and let not discontent Daunt all your hopes: madam, he comforts you Can make you greater than the Queen of Goths. Lavinia, you are not displeased with this? LAVINIA Not I, my lord; sith true nobility Warrants these words in princely courtesy. SATURNINUS Thanks, sweet Lavinia. Romans, let us go; Ransomless here we set our prisoners free: Proclaim our honours, lords, with trump and drum. [Flourish. SATURNINUS courts TAMORA in dumb show] BASSIANUS Lord Titus, by your leave, this maid is mine. [Seizing LAVINIA] TITUS ANDRONICUS How, sir! are you in earnest then, my lord? BASSIANUS Ay, noble Titus; and resolved withal To do myself this reason and this right. MARCUS ANDRONICUS 'Suum cuique' is our Roman justice: This prince in justice seizeth but his own. LUCIUS And that he will, and shall, if Lucius live. TITUS ANDRONICUS Traitors, avaunt! Where is the emperor's guard? Treason, my lord! Lavinia is surprised! SATURNINUS Surprised! by whom? BASSIANUS By him that justly may Bear his betroth'd from all the world away. [Exeunt BASSIANUS and MARCUS with LAVINIA] MUTIUS Brothers, help to convey her hence away, And with my sword I'll keep this door safe. [Exeunt LUCIUS, QUINTUS, and MARTIUS] TITUS ANDRONICUS Follow, my lord, and I'll soon bring her back. MUTIUS My lord, you pass not here. TITUS ANDRONICUS What, villain boy! Barr'st me my way in Rome? [Stabbing MUTIUS] MUTIUS Help, Lucius, help! [Dies] [During the fray, SATURNINUS, TAMORA, DEMETRIUS, CHIRON and AARON go out and re-enter, above] [Re-enter LUCIUS] LUCIUS My lord, you are unjust, and, more than so, In wrongful quarrel you have slain your son. TITUS ANDRONICUS Nor thou, nor he, are any sons of mine; My sons would never so dishonour me: Traitor, restore Lavinia to the emperor. LUCIUS Dead, if you will; but not to be his wife, That is another's lawful promised love. [Exit] SATURNINUS No, Titus, no; the emperor needs her not, Nor her, nor thee, nor any of thy stock: I'll trust, by leisure, him that mocks me once; Thee never, nor thy traitorous haughty sons, Confederates all thus to dishonour me. 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 said'st I begg'd the empire at thy hands. TITUS ANDRONICUS O monstrous! what reproachful words are these? SATURNINUS But go thy ways; go, give that changing piece To him that flourish'd for her with his sword A valiant son-in-law thou shalt enjoy; One fit to bandy with thy lawless sons, To ruffle in the commonwealth of Rome. TITUS ANDRONICUS These words are razors to my wounded heart. SATURNINUS 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 pleased with this my sudden choice, Behold, I choose thee, Tamora, for my bride, And will create thee empress of Rome, Speak, Queen of Goths, dost thou applaud my choice? And here I swear by all the Roman gods, Sith priest and holy water are so near And tapers burn so bright and every thing In readiness for Hymenaeus stand, I will not re-salute the streets of Rome, Or climb my palace, till from forth this place I lead espoused my bride along with me. TAMORA 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. SATURNINUS Ascend, fair queen, Pantheon. 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. [Exeunt all but TITUS] TITUS ANDRONICUS I am not bid to wait upon this bride. Titus, when wert thou wont to walk alone, Dishonour'd thus, and challenged of wrongs? [Re-enter MARCUS, LUCIUS, QUINTUS, and MARTIUS] MARCUS ANDRONICUS O Titus, see, O, see what thou hast done! In a bad quarrel slain a virtuous son. TITUS ANDRONICUS No, foolish tribune, no; no son of mine, Nor thou, nor these, confederates in the deed That hath dishonour'd all our family; Unworthy brother, and unworthy sons! LUCIUS But let us give him burial, as becomes; Give Mutius burial with our brethren. TITUS ANDRONICUS Traitors, away! he rests not in this tomb: This monument five hundred years hath stood, Which I have sumptuously re-edified: Here none but soldiers and Rome's servitors Repose in fame; none basely slain in brawls: Bury him where you can; he comes not here. MARCUS ANDRONICUS My lord, this is impiety in you: My nephew Mutius' deeds do plead for him He must be buried with his brethren. QUINTUS | | And shall, or him we will accompany. MARTIUS | TITUS ANDRONICUS 'And shall!' what villain was it that spake that word? QUINTUS He that would vouch it in any place but here. TITUS ANDRONICUS What, would you bury him in my despite? MARCUS ANDRONICUS No, noble Titus, but entreat of thee To pardon Mutius and to bury him. TITUS ANDRONICUS Marcus, even thou hast struck upon my crest, And, with these boys, mine honour thou hast wounded: My foes I do repute you every one; So, trouble me no more, but get you gone. MARTIUS He is not with himself; let us withdraw. QUINTUS Not I, till Mutius' bones be buried. [MARCUS and the Sons of TITUS kneel] MARCUS ANDRONICUS Brother, for in that name doth nature plead,-- QUINTUS Father, and in that name doth nature speak,-- TITUS ANDRONICUS Speak thou no more, if all the rest will speed. MARCUS ANDRONICUS Renowned Titus, more than half my soul,-- LUCIUS Dear father, soul and substance of us all,-- MARCUS ANDRONICUS Suffer thy brother Marcus to inter His noble nephew here in virtue's nest, That died in honour and Lavinia's cause. Thou art a Roman; be not barbarous: The Greeks upon advice did bury Ajax That slew himself; and wise Laertes' son Did graciously plead for his funerals: Let not young Mutius, then, that was thy joy Be barr'd his entrance here. TITUS ANDRONICUS Rise, Marcus, rise. The dismall'st day is this that e'er I saw, To be dishonour'd by my sons in Rome! Well, bury him, and bury me the next. [MUTIUS is put into the tomb] LUCIUS There lie thy bones, sweet Mutius, with thy friends, Till we with trophies do adorn thy tomb. All [Kneeling] No man shed tears for noble Mutius; He lives in fame that died in virtue's cause. MARCUS ANDRONICUS My lord, to step out of these dreary dumps, How comes it that the subtle Queen of Goths Is of a sudden thus advanced in Rome? TITUS ANDRONICUS I know not, Marcus; but I know it is, Whether by device or no, the heavens can tell: Is she not then beholding to the man That brought her for this high good turn so far? Yes, and will nobly him remunerate. [Flourish. Re-enter, from one side, SATURNINUS attended, TAMORA, DEMETRIUS, CHIRON and AARON; from the other, BASSIANUS, LAVINIA, and others] SATURNINUS So, Bassianus, you have play'd your prize: God give you joy, sir, of your gallant bride! BASSIANUS And you of yours, my lord! I say no more, Nor wish no less; and so, I take my leave. SATURNINUS Traitor, if Rome have law or we have power, Thou and thy faction shall repent this rape. BASSIANUS Rape, call you it, my lord, to seize my own, My truth-betrothed love and now my wife? But let the laws of Rome determine all; Meanwhile I am possess'd of that is mine. SATURNINUS 'Tis good, sir: you are very short with us; But, if we live, we'll be as sharp with you. BASSIANUS My lord, what I have done, as best I may, Answer I must and shall do with my life. Only thus much I give your grace to know: By all the duties that I owe to Rome, This noble gentleman, Lord Titus here, Is in opinion and in honour wrong'd; That in the rescue of Lavinia With his own hand did slay his youngest son, In zeal to you and highly moved to wrath To be controll'd in that he frankly gave: Receive him, then, to favor, Saturnine, That hath express'd himself in all his deeds A father and a friend to thee and Rome. TITUS ANDRONICUS Prince Bassianus, leave to plead my deeds: 'Tis thou and those that have dishonour'd me. Rome and the righteous heavens be my judge, How I have loved and honour'd Saturnine! TAMORA My worthy lord, if ever Tamora Were gracious in those princely eyes of thine, Then hear me speak in indifferently for all; And at my suit, sweet, pardon what is past. SATURNINUS What, madam! be dishonour'd openly, And basely put it up without revenge? TAMORA Not so, my lord; the gods of Rome forfend I should be author to dishonour you! But on mine honour dare I undertake For good Lord Titus' innocence in all; Whose fury not dissembled speaks his griefs: Then, at my suit, look graciously on him; Lose not so noble a friend on vain suppose, Nor with sour looks afflict his gentle heart. [Aside to SATURNINUS] My lord, be ruled by me, be won at last; Dissemble all your griefs and discontents: You are but newly planted in your throne; Lest, then, the people, and patricians too, Upon a just survey, take Titus' part, And so supplant you for ingratitude, Which Rome reputes to be a heinous sin, Yield at entreats; and then let me alone: I'll find a day to massacre them all And raze their faction and their family, The cruel father and his traitorous sons, To whom I sued for my dear son's life, And make them know what 'tis to let a queen Kneel in the streets and beg for grace in vain. [Aloud] Come, come, sweet emperor; come, Andronicus; Take up this good old man, and cheer the heart That dies in tempest of thy angry frown. SATURNINUS Rise, Titus, rise; my empress hath prevail'd. TITUS ANDRONICUS I thank your majesty, and her, my lord: These words, these looks, infuse new life in me. TAMORA Titus, I am incorporate in Rome, A Roman now adopted happily, And must advise the emperor for his good. This day all quarrels die, Andronicus; And let it be mine honour, good my lord, That I have reconciled your friends and you. For you, Prince Bassianus, I have pass'd My word and promise to the emperor, That you will be more mild and tractable. And fear not lords, and you, Lavinia; By my advice, all humbled on your knees, You shall ask pardon of his majesty. LUCIUS We do, and vow to heaven and to his highness, That what we did was mildly as we might, Tendering our sister's honour and our own. MARCUS ANDRONICUS That, on mine honour, here I do protest. SATURNINUS Away, and talk not; trouble us no more. TAMORA Nay, nay, sweet emperor, we must all be friends: The tribune and his nephews kneel for grace; I will not be denied: sweet heart, look back. SATURNINUS 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: Stand up. 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. Come, if the emperor's court can feast two brides, You are my guest, Lavinia, and your friends. This day shall be a love-day, Tamora. TITUS ANDRONICUS To-morrow, an it please your majesty To hunt the panther and the hart with me, With horn and hound we'll give your grace bonjour. SATURNINUS Be it so, Titus, and gramercy too. [Flourish. Exeunt] TITUS ANDRONICUS ACT II SCENE I Rome. Before the Palace. [Enter AARON] AARON Now climbeth Tamora Olympus' top, Safe out of fortune's shot; and sits aloft, Secure of thunder's crack or lightning flash; Advanced above pale envy's threatening reach. As when the golden sun salutes the morn, And, having gilt the ocean with his beams, Gallops the zodiac in his glistering coach, And overlooks the highest-peering hills; So Tamora: Upon her wit doth earthly honour wait, And virtue stoops and trembles at her frown. Then, Aaron, arm thy heart, and fit thy thoughts, To mount aloft with thy imperial mistress, And mount her pitch, whom thou in triumph long Hast prisoner held, fetter'd in amorous chains And faster bound to Aaron's charming eyes Than is Prometheus tied to Caucasus. Away with slavish weeds and servile thoughts! I will be bright, and shine in pearl and gold, To wait upon this new-made empress. To wait, said I? to wanton with this queen, This goddess, this Semiramis, this nymph, This siren, that will charm Rome's Saturnine, And see his shipwreck and his commonweal's. Holloa! what storm is this? [Enter DEMETRIUS and CHIRON, braving] DEMETRIUS Chiron, thy years want wit, thy wit wants edge, And manners, to intrude where I am graced; And may, for aught thou know'st, affected be. CHIRON Demetrius, thou dost over-ween in all; And so in this, to bear me down with braves. 'Tis not the difference of a year or two Makes me less gracious or thee more fortunate: I am as able and as fit as thou To serve, and to deserve my mistress' grace; And that my sword upon thee shall approve, And plead my passions for Lavinia's love. AARON [Aside] Clubs, clubs! these lovers will not keep the peace. DEMETRIUS Why, boy, although our mother, unadvised, Gave you a dancing-rapier by your side, Are you so desperate grown, to threat your friends? Go to; have your lath glued within your sheath Till you know better how to handle it. CHIRON Meanwhile, sir, with the little skill I have, Full well shalt thou perceive how much I dare. DEMETRIUS Ay, boy, grow ye so brave? [They draw] AARON [Coming forward] Why, how now, lords! So near the emperor's palace dare you 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 dishonour'd in the court of Rome. For shame, put up. DEMETRIUS Not I, till I have sheathed My rapier in his bosom and withal Thrust these reproachful speeches down his throat That he hath breathed in my dishonour here. CHIRON For that I am prepared and full resolved. Foul-spoken coward, that thunder'st with thy tongue, And with thy weapon nothing darest perform! AARON Away, I say! Now, by the gods that warlike Goths adore, This petty brabble will undo us all. 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! and should the empress know This discord's ground, the music would not please. CHIRON I care not, I, knew she and all the world: I love Lavinia more than all the world. DEMETRIUS Youngling, learn thou to make some meaner choice: Lavinia is thine elder brother's hope. AARON Why, are ye mad? or know ye not, in Rome How furious and impatient they be, And cannot brook competitors in love? I tell you, lords, you do but plot your deaths By this device. CHIRON Aaron, a thousand deaths Would I propose to achieve her whom I love. AARON To achieve her! how? DEMETRIUS Why makest 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 loved. What, man! more water glideth by the mill Than wots the miller of; and easy it is Of a cut loaf to steal a shive, we know: Though Bassianus be the emperor's brother. Better than he have worn Vulcan's badge. AARON [Aside] Ay, and as good as Saturninus may. DEMETRIUS Then why should he despair that knows to court it With words, fair looks and liberality? What, hast not thou full often struck a doe, And borne her cleanly by the keeper's nose? AARON Why, then, it seems, some certain snatch or so Would serve your turns. CHIRON Ay, so the turn were served. DEMETRIUS Aaron, thou hast hit it. AARON Would you had hit it too! Then should not we be tired with this ado. Why, hark ye, hark ye! and are you such fools To square for this? would it offend you, then That both should speed? CHIRON Faith, not me. DEMETRIUS Nor me, so I were one. AARON For shame, be friends, and join for that you jar: 'Tis policy and stratagem must do That you affect; and so must you resolve, That what you cannot as you would achieve, You must perforce accomplish as you may. Take this of me: Lucrece was not more chaste Than this Lavinia, Bassianus' love. A speedier course than lingering languishment Must we pursue, and I have found the path. My lords, a solemn hunting is in hand; There will the lovely Roman ladies troop: The forest walks are wide and spacious; And many unfrequented plots there are Fitted by kind for rape and villany: Single you thither then this dainty doe, And strike her home by force, if not by words: This way, or not at all, stand you in hope. Come, come, our empress, with her sacred wit To villany and vengeance consecrate, Will we acquaint with all that we intend; And she shall file our engines with advice, That will not suffer you to square yourselves, But to your wishes' height advance you both. The emperor's court is like the house of Fame, The palace full of tongues, of eyes, and ears: The woods are ruthless, dreadful, deaf, and dull; There speak, and strike, brave boys, and take your turns; There serve your lusts, shadow'd from heaven's eye, And revel in Lavinia's treasury. CHIRON Thy counsel, lad, smells of no cowardice, DEMETRIUS Sit fas aut nefas, till I find the stream To cool this heat, a charm to calm these fits. Per Styga, per manes vehor. [Exeunt] TITUS ANDRONICUS ACT II SCENE II A forest near Rome. Horns and cry of hounds heard. [Enter TITUS ANDRONICUS, with Hunters, &c., MARCUS, LUCIUS, QUINTUS, and MARTIUS] TITUS ANDRONICUS 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. Sons, let it be your charge, as it is ours, To attend the emperor's person carefully: I have been troubled in my sleep this night, But dawning day new comfort hath inspired. [A cry of hounds and horns, winded in a peal. Enter SATURNINUS, TAMORA, BASSIANUS, LAVINIA, DEMETRIUS, CHIRON, and Attendants] Many good morrows to your majesty; Madam, to you as many and as good: I promised your grace a hunter's peal. SATURNINUS And you have rung it lustily, my lord; Somewhat too early for new-married ladies. BASSIANUS Lavinia, how say you? LAVINIA I say, no; I have been broad awake two hours and more. SATURNINUS Come on, then; horse and chariots let us have, And to our sport. [To TAMORA] Madam, now shall ye see Our Roman hunting. MARCUS ANDRONICUS I have dogs, my lord, Will rouse the proudest panther in the chase, And climb the highest promontory top. TITUS ANDRONICUS And I have horse will follow where the game Makes way, and run like swallows o'er the plain. DEMETRIUS Chiron, we hunt not, we, with horse nor hound, But hope to pluck a dainty doe to ground. [Exeunt] TITUS ANDRONICUS ACT II SCENE III A lonely part of the forest. [Enter AARON, with a bag of gold] AARON He that had wit would think that I had none, To bury so much gold under a tree, And never after to inherit it. Let him that thinks of me so abjectly Know that this gold must coin a stratagem, Which, cunningly effected, will beget A very excellent piece of villany: And so repose, sweet gold, for their unrest [Hides the gold] That have their alms out of the empress' chest. [Enter TAMORA] TAMORA My lovely Aaron, wherefore look'st thou sad, When every thing doth make a gleeful boast? The birds chant melody on every bush, The snake lies rolled in the cheerful sun, The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind And make a chequer'd shadow on the ground: Under their sweet shade, Aaron, let us sit, And, whilst the babbling echo mocks the hounds, Replying shrilly to the well-tuned horns, As if a double hunt were heard at once, Let us sit down and mark their yelping noise; And, after conflict such as was supposed The wandering prince and Dido once enjoy'd, When with a happy storm they were surprised And curtain'd with a counsel-keeping cave, We may, each wreathed in the other's arms, Our pastimes done, possess a golden slumber; Whiles hounds and horns and sweet melodious birds Be unto us as is a nurse's song Of lullaby to bring her babe asleep. AARON Madam, though Venus govern your desires, Saturn is dominator over mine: 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: Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand, Blood and revenge are hammering in my head. Hark Tamora, the empress of my soul, Which never hopes more heaven than rests in thee, This is the day of doom for Bassianus: His Philomel must lose her tongue to-day, Thy sons make pillage of her chastity And wash their hands in Bassianus' blood. Seest thou this letter? take it up, I pray thee, And give the king this fatal plotted scroll. Now question me no more; we are espied; Here comes a parcel of our hopeful booty, Which dreads not yet their lives' destruction. TAMORA Ah, my sweet Moor, sweeter to me than life! AARON No more, great empress; Bassianus comes: Be cross with him; and I'll go fetch thy sons To back thy quarrels, whatsoe'er they be. [Exit] [Enter BASSIANUS and LAVINIA] BASSIANUS Who have we here? Rome's royal empress, Unfurnish'd of her well-beseeming troop? Or is it Dian, habited like her, Who hath abandoned her holy groves To see the general hunting in this forest? TAMORA Saucy controller of our private steps! Had I the power that some say Dian had, Thy temples should be planted presently With horns, as was Actaeon's; and the hounds Should drive upon thy new-transformed limbs, Unmannerly intruder as thou art! LAVINIA Under your patience, gentle empress, 'Tis thought you have a goodly gift in horning; And to be doubted that your Moor and you Are singled forth to try experiments: Jove shield your husband from his hounds to-day! 'Tis pity they should take him for a stag. BASSIANUS Believe me, queen, your swarth Cimmerian Doth make your honour of his body's hue, Spotted, detested, and abominable. Why are you sequester'd from all your train, Dismounted from your snow-white goodly steed. And wander'd hither to an obscure plot, Accompanied but with a barbarous Moor, If foul desire had not conducted you? LAVINIA And, being intercepted in your sport, Great reason that my noble lord be rated For sauciness. I pray you, let us hence, And let her joy her raven-colour'd love; This valley fits the purpose passing well. BASSIANUS The king my brother shall have note of this. LAVINIA Ay, for these slips have made him noted long: Good king, to be so mightily abused! TAMORA Why have I patience to endure all this? [Enter DEMETRIUS and CHIRON] DEMETRIUS How now, dear sovereign, and our gracious mother! Why doth your highness look so pale and wan? TAMORA Have I not reason, think you, to look pale? These two have 'ticed me hither to this place: A barren detested vale, you see it is; The trees, though summer, yet forlorn and lean, O'ercome with moss and baleful mistletoe: Here never shines the sun; here nothing breeds, Unless the nightly owl or fatal raven: And when they show'd me this abhorred pit, They told me, here, at dead time of the night, A thousand fiends, a thousand hissing snakes, Ten thousand swelling toads, as many urchins, Would make such fearful and confused cries As any mortal body hearing it Should straight fall mad, or else die suddenly. No sooner had they told this hellish tale, But straight they told me they would bind me here Unto the body of a dismal yew, And leave me to this miserable death: 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. Revenge it, as you love your mother's life, Or be ye not henceforth call'd my children. DEMETRIUS This is a witness that I am thy son. [Stabs BASSIANUS] CHIRON And this for me, struck home to show my strength. [Also stabs BASSIANUS, who dies] LAVINIA Ay, come, Semiramis, nay, barbarous Tamora, For no name fits thy nature but thy own! TAMORA Give me thy poniard; you shall know, my boys Your mother's hand shall right your mother's wrong. DEMETRIUS Stay, madam; here is more belongs to her; First thrash the corn, then after burn the straw: This minion stood upon her chastity, Upon her nuptial vow, her loyalty, And with that painted hope braves your mightiness: And shall she carry this unto her grave? CHIRON An if she do, I would I were an eunuch. Drag hence her husband to some secret hole, And make his dead trunk pillow to our lust. TAMORA But when ye have the honey ye desire, Let not this wasp outlive, us both to sting. CHIRON I warrant you, madam, we will make that sure. Come, mistress, now perforce we will enjoy That nice-preserved honesty of yours. LAVINIA O Tamora! thou bear'st a woman's face,-- TAMORA I will not hear her speak; away with her! LAVINIA Sweet lords, entreat her hear me but a word. DEMETRIUS Listen, fair madam: let it be your glory To see her tears; but be your heart to them As unrelenting flint to drops of rain. LAVINIA When did the tiger's young ones teach the dam? O, do not learn her wrath; she taught it thee; The milk thou suck'dst from her did turn to marble; Even at thy teat thou hadst thy tyranny. Yet every mother breeds not sons alike: [To CHIRON] Do thou entreat her show a woman pity. CHIRON What, wouldst thou have me prove myself a bastard? LAVINIA 'Tis true; the raven doth not hatch a lark: Yet have I heard,--O, could I find it now!-- The lion moved with pity did endure To have his princely paws pared all away: Some say that ravens foster forlorn children, The whilst their own birds famish in their nests: O, be to me, though thy hard heart say no, Nothing so kind, but something pitiful! TAMORA I know not what it means; away with her! LAVINIA O, let me teach thee! for my father's sake, That gave thee life, when well he might have slain thee, Be not obdurate, open thy deaf ears. TAMORA Hadst thou in person ne'er offended me, Even for his sake am I pitiless. Remember, boys, I pour'd forth tears in vain, To save your brother from the sacrifice; But fierce Andronicus would not relent; Therefore, away with her, and use her as you will, The worse to her, the better loved of me. LAVINIA O Tamora, be call'd a gentle queen, And with thine own hands kill me in this place! For 'tis not life that I have begg'd so long; Poor I was slain when Bassianus died. TAMORA What begg'st thou, then? fond woman, let me go. LAVINIA 'Tis present death I beg; and one thing more That womanhood denies my tongue to tell: O, keep me from their worse than killing lust, And tumble me into some loathsome pit, Where never man's eye may behold my body: Do this, and be a charitable murderer. TAMORA So should I rob my sweet sons of their fee: No, let them satisfy their lust on thee. DEMETRIUS Away! for thou hast stay'd us here too long. LAVINIA No grace? no womanhood? Ah, beastly creature! The blot and enemy to our general name! Confusion fall-- CHIRON Nay, then I'll stop your mouth. Bring thou her husband: This is the hole where Aaron bid us hide him. [DEMETRIUS throws the body of BASSIANUS into the pit; then exeunt DEMETRIUS and CHIRON, dragging off LAVINIA] TAMORA Farewell, my sons: see that you make her sure. Ne'er let my heart know merry cheer indeed, Till all the Andronici be made away. Now will I hence to seek my lovely Moor, And let my spleenful sons this trull deflow'r. [Exit] [Re-enter AARON, with QUINTUS and MARTIUS] AARON Come on, my lords, the better foot before: Straight will I bring you to the loathsome pit Where I espied the panther fast asleep. QUINTUS My sight is very dull, whate'er it bodes. MARTIUS And mine, I promise you; were't not for shame, Well could I leave our sport to sleep awhile. [Falls into the pit] QUINTUS What art thou fall'n? What subtle hole is this, Whose mouth is cover'd with rude-growing briers, Upon whose leaves are drops of new-shed blood As fresh as morning dew distill'd on flowers? A very fatal place it seems to me. Speak, brother, hast thou hurt thee with the fall? MARTIUS O brother, with the dismall'st object hurt That ever eye with sight made heart lament! AARON [Aside] Now will I fetch the king to find them here, That he thereby may give a likely guess How these were they that made away his brother. [Exit] MARTIUS Why dost not comfort me, and help me out From this unhallowed and blood-stained hole? QUINTUS I am surprised with an uncouth fear; A chilling sweat o'er-runs my trembling joints: My heart suspects more than mine eye can see. MARTIUS To prove thou hast a true-divining heart, Aaron and thou look down into this den, And see a fearful sight of blood and death. QUINTUS Aaron is gone; and my compassionate heart Will not permit mine eyes once to behold The thing whereat it trembles by surmise; O, tell me how it is; for ne'er till now Was I a child to fear I know not what. MARTIUS Lord Bassianus lies embrewed here, All on a heap, like to a slaughter'd lamb, In this detested, dark, blood-drinking pit. QUINTUS If it be dark, how dost thou know 'tis he? MARTIUS Upon his bloody finger he doth wear A precious ring, that lightens all the hole, Which, like a taper in some monument, Doth shine upon the dead man's earthy cheeks, And shows the ragged entrails of the pit: So pale did shine the moon on Pyramus When he by night lay bathed in maiden blood. O brother, help me with thy fainting hand-- If fear hath made thee faint, as me it hath-- Out of this fell devouring receptacle, As hateful as Cocytus' misty mouth. QUINTUS Reach me thy hand, that I may help thee out; Or, wanting strength to do thee so much good, I may be pluck'd into the swallowing womb Of this deep pit, poor Bassianus' grave. I have no strength to pluck thee to the brink. MARTIUS Nor I no strength to climb without thy help. QUINTUS Thy hand once more; I will not loose again, Till thou art here aloft, or I below: Thou canst not come to me: I come to thee. [Falls in] [Enter SATURNINUS with AARON] SATURNINUS Along with me: I'll see what hole is here, And what he is that now is leap'd into it. Say who art thou that lately didst descend Into this gaping hollow of the earth? MARTIUS The unhappy son of old Andronicus: Brought hither in a most unlucky hour, To find thy brother Bassianus dead. SATURNINUS My brother dead! I know thou dost but jest: He and his lady both are at the lodge Upon the north side of this pleasant chase; 'Tis not an hour since I left him there. MARTIUS We know not where you left him all alive; But, out, alas! here have we found him dead. [Re-enter TAMORA, with Attendants; TITUS ANDRONICUS, and Lucius] TAMORA Where is my lord the king? SATURNINUS Here, Tamora, though grieved with killing grief. TAMORA Where is thy brother Bassianus? SATURNINUS Now to the bottom dost thou search my wound: Poor Bassianus here lies murdered. TAMORA Then all too late I bring this fatal writ, The complot of this timeless tragedy; And wonder greatly that man's face can fold In pleasing smiles such murderous tyranny. [She giveth SATURNINUS a letter] SATURNINUS [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: Thou know'st our meaning. Look for thy reward Among the nettles at the elder-tree Which overshades the mouth of that same pit Where we decreed to bury Bassianus. Do this, and purchase us thy lasting friends.' O Tamora! was ever heard the like? This is the pit, and this the elder-tree. Look, sirs, if you can find the huntsman out That should have murdered Bassianus here. AARON My gracious lord, here is the bag of gold. SATURNINUS [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 devised Some never-heard-of torturing pain for them. TAMORA What, are they in this pit? O wondrous thing! How easily murder is discovered! TITUS ANDRONICUS High emperor, upon my feeble knee I beg this boon, with tears not lightly shed, That this fell fault of my accursed sons, Accursed if the fault be proved in them,-- SATURNINUS If it be proved! you see it is apparent. Who found this letter? Tamora, was it you? TAMORA Andronicus himself did take it up. TITUS ANDRONICUS I did, my lord: yet let me be their bail; For, by my father's reverend tomb, I vow They shall be ready at your highness' will To answer their suspicion with their lives. SATURNINUS Thou shalt not bail them: see thou follow me. Some bring the murder'd 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. TAMORA Andronicus, I will entreat the king; Fear not thy sons; they shall do well enough. TITUS ANDRONICUS Come, Lucius, come; stay not to talk with them. [Exeunt] TITUS ANDRONICUS ACT II SCENE IV Another part of the forest. [Enter DEMETRIUS and CHIRON with LAVINIA, ravished; her hands cut off, and her tongue cut out] DEMETRIUS So, now go tell, an if thy tongue can speak, Who 'twas that cut thy tongue and ravish'd thee. CHIRON Write down thy mind, bewray thy meaning so, An if thy stumps will let thee play the scribe. DEMETRIUS See, how with signs and tokens she can scrowl. CHIRON Go home, call for sweet water, wash thy hands. DEMETRIUS She hath no tongue to call, nor hands to wash; And so let's leave her to her silent walks. CHIRON An 'twere my case, I should go hang myself. DEMETRIUS If thou hadst hands to help thee knit the cord. [Exeunt DEMETRIUS and CHIRON] [Enter MARCUS] MARCUS Who is this? my niece, that flies away so fast! Cousin, a word; where is your husband? If I do dream, would all my wealth would wake me! If I do wake, some planet strike me down, That I may slumber in eternal sleep! Speak, gentle niece, what stern ungentle hands Have lopp'd and hew'd and made thy body bare Of her two branches, those sweet ornaments, Whose circling shadows kings have sought to sleep in, And might not gain so great a happiness As have thy love? Why dost not speak to me? Alas, a crimson river of warm blood, Like to a bubbling fountain stirr'd with wind, Doth rise and fall between thy rosed lips, Coming and going with thy honey breath. But, sure, some Tereus hath deflowered thee, And, lest thou shouldst detect him, cut thy tongue. Ah, now thou turn'st away thy face for shame! And, notwithstanding all this loss of blood, As from a conduit with three issuing spouts, Yet do thy cheeks look red as Titan's face Blushing to be encountered with a cloud. 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 Philomela, she but lost her tongue, And in a tedious sampler sew'd her mind: But, lovely niece, that mean is cut from thee; A craftier Tereus, cousin, hast thou met, And he hath cut those pretty fingers off, That could have better sew'd than Philomel. 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. Come, let us go, and make thy father blind; For such a sight will blind a father's eye: One hour's storm will drown the fragrant meads; What will whole months of tears thy father's eyes? Do not draw back, for we will mourn with thee O, could our mourning ease thy misery! [Exeunt] TITUS ANDRONICUS ACT III SCENE I Rome. A street. [Enter Judges, Senators and Tribunes, with MARTIUS and QUINTUS, bound, passing on to the place of execution; TITUS going before, pleading] TITUS ANDRONICUS Hear me, grave fathers! noble tribunes, stay! For pity of mine age, whose youth was spent In dangerous wars, whilst you securely slept; For all my blood in Rome's great quarrel shed; For all the frosty nights that I have watch'd; And for these bitter tears, which now you see Filling the aged wrinkles in my cheeks; Be pitiful to my condemned sons, Whose souls are not corrupted as 'tis thought. For two and twenty sons I never wept, Because they died in honour's lofty bed. [Lieth down; the Judges, &c., pass by him, and Exeunt] For these, these, tribunes, in the dust I write My heart's deep languor and my soul's sad tears: Let my tears stanch the earth's dry appetite; My sons' sweet blood will make it shame and blush. O earth, I will befriend thee more with rain, That shall distil from these two ancient urns, Than youthful April shall with all his showers: In summer's drought I'll drop upon thee still; In winter with warm tears I'll melt the snow And keep eternal spring-time on thy face, So thou refuse to drink my dear sons' blood. [Enter LUCIUS, with his sword drawn] O reverend tribunes! O gentle, aged men! Unbind my sons, reverse the doom of death; And let me say, that never wept before, My tears are now prevailing orators. LUCIUS O noble father, you lament in vain: The tribunes hear you not; no man is by; And you recount your sorrows to a stone. TITUS ANDRONICUS Ah, Lucius, for thy brothers let me plead. Grave tribunes, once more I entreat of you,-- LUCIUS My gracious lord, no tribune hears you speak. TITUS ANDRONICUS Why, tis no matter, man; if they did hear, They would not mark me, or 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 tribune like to these. A stone is soft as wax,--tribunes more hard than stones; A stone is silent, and offendeth not, And tribunes with their tongues doom men to death. [Rises] But wherefore stand'st thou with thy weapon drawn? LUCIUS To rescue my two brothers from their death: For which attempt the judges have pronounced My everlasting doom of banishment. TITUS ANDRONICUS O happy man! they have befriended thee. Why, foolish Lucius, dost thou not perceive That Rome is but a wilderness of tigers? Tigers must prey, and Rome affords no prey But me and mine: how happy art thou, then, From these devourers to be banished! But who comes with our brother Marcus here? [Enter MARCUS and LAVINIA] MARCUS ANDRONICUS Titus, prepare thy aged eyes to weep; Or, if not so, thy noble heart to break: I bring consuming sorrow to thine age. TITUS ANDRONICUS Will it consume me? let me see it, then. MARCUS ANDRONICUS This was thy daughter. TITUS ANDRONICUS Why, Marcus, so she is. LUCIUS Ay me, this object kills me! TITUS ANDRONICUS Faint-hearted boy, arise, and look upon her. Speak, Lavinia, what accursed hand Hath made thee handless in thy father's sight? What fool hath added water to the sea, Or brought a faggot to bright-burning Troy? My grief was at the height before thou camest, And now like Nilus, it disdaineth bounds. Give me a sword, I'll chop off my hands too; For they have fought for Rome, and all in vain; And they have nursed this woe, in feeding life; In bootless prayer have they been held up, And they have served me to effectless use: Now all the service I require of them Is that the one will help to cut the other. 'Tis well, Lavinia, that thou hast no hands; For hands, to do Rome service, are but vain. LUCIUS Speak, gentle sister, who hath martyr'd thee? MARCUS ANDRONICUS O, that delightful engine of her thoughts That blabb'd them with such pleasing eloquence, Is torn from forth that pretty hollow cage, Where, like a sweet melodious bird, it sung Sweet varied notes, enchanting every ear! LUCIUS O, say thou for her, who hath done this deed? MARCUS ANDRONICUS O, thus I found her, straying in the park, Seeking to hide herself, as doth the deer That hath received some unrecuring wound. TITUS ANDRONICUS It was my deer; and he that wounded her Hath hurt me more than had he killed me dead: For now I stand as one upon a rock Environed with a wilderness of sea, Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave, Expecting ever when some envious surge Will in his brinish bowels swallow him. This way to death my wretched sons are gone; Here stands my other son, a banished man, And here my brother, weeping at my woes. But that which gives my soul the greatest spurn, Is dear Lavinia, dearer than my soul. 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 gather'd lily almost wither'd. MARCUS ANDRONICUS Perchance she weeps because they kill'd her husband; Perchance because she knows them innocent. TITUS ANDRONICUS If they did kill thy husband, then be joyful Because the law hath ta'en revenge on them. No, no, they would not do so foul a deed; Witness the sorrow that their sister makes. Gentle Lavinia, let me kiss thy lips. Or make some sign how I may do thee ease: Shall thy good uncle, and thy brother Lucius, And thou, and I, sit round about some fountain, Looking all downwards to behold our cheeks How they are stain'd, as meadows, yet not dry, With miry slime left on them by a flood? And in the fountain shall we gaze so long Till the fresh taste be taken from that clearness, And made a brine-pit with our bitter tears? Or shall we cut away our hands, like thine? Or shall we bite our tongues, and in dumb shows Pass the remainder of our hateful days? What shall we do? let us, that have our tongues, Plot some deuce of further misery, To make us wonder'd at in time to come. LUCIUS Sweet father, cease your tears; for, at your grief, See how my wretched sister sobs and weeps. MARCUS ANDRONICUS Patience, dear niece. Good Titus, dry thine eyes. TITUS ANDRONICUS Ah, Marcus, Marcus! brother, well I wot Thy napkin cannot drink a tear of mine, For thou, poor man, hast drown'd it with thine own. LUCIUS Ah, my Lavinia, I will wipe thy cheeks. TITUS ANDRONICUS Mark, Marcus, mark! I understand her signs: Had she a tongue to speak, now would she say That to her brother which I said to thee: His napkin, with his true tears all bewet, Can do no service on her sorrowful cheeks. O, what a sympathy of woe is this, As far from help as Limbo is from bliss! [Enter AARON] AARON 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. TITUS ANDRONICUS 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: Good Aaron, wilt thou help to chop it off? LUCIUS Stay, father! for that noble hand of thine, That hath thrown down so many enemies, Shall not be sent: my hand will serve the turn: My youth can better spare my blood than you; And therefore mine shall save my brothers' lives. MARCUS ANDRONICUS 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. AARON Nay, come, agree whose hand shall go along, For fear they die before their pardon come. MARCUS ANDRONICUS My hand shall go. LUCIUS By heaven, it shall not go! TITUS ANDRONICUS Sirs, strive no more: such wither'd herbs as these Are meet for plucking up, and therefore mine. LUCIUS Sweet father, if I shall be thought thy son, Let me redeem my brothers both from death. MARCUS ANDRONICUS And, for our father's sake and mother's care, Now let me show a brother's love to thee. TITUS ANDRONICUS Agree between you; I will spare my hand. LUCIUS Then I'll go fetch an axe. MARCUS ANDRONICUS But I will use the axe. [Exeunt LUCIUS and MARCUS] TITUS ANDRONICUS Come hither, Aaron; I'll deceive them both: Lend me thy hand, and I will give thee mine. AARON [Aside] If that be call'd deceit, I will be honest, And never, whilst I live, deceive men so: But I'll deceive you in another sort, And that you'll say, ere half an hour pass. [Cuts off TITUS's hand] [Re-enter LUCIUS and MARCUS] TITUS ANDRONICUS Now stay your strife: what shall be is dispatch'd. Good Aaron, give his majesty my hand: Tell him it was a hand that warded him From thousand dangers; bid him bury it More hath it merited; that let it have. As for my sons, say I account of them As jewels purchased at an easy price; And yet dear too, because I bought mine own. AARON I go, Andronicus: and for thy hand Look by and by to have thy sons with thee. [Aside] Their heads, I mean. O, how this villany Doth fat me with the very thoughts of it! Let fools do good, and fair men call for grace. Aaron will have his soul black like his face. [Exit] TITUS ANDRONICUS 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, wilt 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. MARCUS ANDRONICUS O brother, speak with possibilities, And do not break into these deep extremes. TITUS ANDRONICUS Is not my sorrow deep, having no bottom? Then be my passions bottomless with them. MARCUS ANDRONICUS But yet let reason govern thy lament. TITUS ANDRONICUS If there were reason for these miseries, Then into limits could I bind my woes: When heaven doth weep, doth not the earth o'erflow? If the winds rage, doth not the sea wax mad, Threatening the welkin with his big-swoln 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. [Enter a Messenger, with two heads and a hand] Messenger Worthy Andronicus, ill art thou repaid For that good hand thou sent'st the emperor. Here are the heads of thy two noble sons; And here's thy hand, in scorn to thee sent back; Thy griefs their sports, thy resolution mock'd; That woe is me to think upon thy woes More than remembrance of my father's death. [Exit] MARCUS ANDRONICUS Now let hot AEtna cool in Sicily, And be my heart an ever-burning hell! These miseries are more than may be borne. To weep with them that weep doth ease some deal; But sorrow flouted at is double death. LUCIUS Ah, that this sight should make so deep a wound, And yet detested life not shrink thereat! That ever death should let life bear his name, Where life hath no more interest but to breathe! [LAVINIA kisses TITUS] MARCUS ANDRONICUS Alas, poor heart, that kiss is comfortless As frozen water to a starved snake. TITUS ANDRONICUS When will this fearful slumber have an end? MARCUS ANDRONICUS Now, farewell, flattery: die, Andronicus; Thou dost not slumber: see, thy two sons' heads, Thy warlike hand, thy mangled daughter here: Thy other banish'd son, with this dear sight Struck pale and bloodless; and thy brother, I, Even like a stony image, cold and numb. Ah, now no more will I control thy griefs: Rend off thy silver hair, thy other hand Gnawing with thy teeth; and be this dismal sight The closing up of our most wretched eyes; Now is a time to storm; why art thou still? TITUS ANDRONICUS Ha, ha, ha! MARCUS ANDRONICUS Why dost thou laugh? it fits not with this hour. TITUS ANDRONICUS Why, I have not another tear to shed: Besides, this sorrow is an enemy, And would usurp upon my watery 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. Come, let me see what task I have to do. You heavy people, circle me about, That I may turn me to each one of you, And swear unto my soul to right your wrongs. The vow is made. Come, brother, take a head; And in this hand the other I will bear. Lavinia, thou shalt be employ'd: these arms! Bear thou my hand, sweet wench, between thy teeth. As for thee, boy, go get thee from my sight; Thou art an exile, and thou must not stay: Hie to the Goths, and raise an army there: And, if you love me, as I think you do, Let's kiss and part, for we have much to do. [Exeunt TITUS, MARCUS, and LAVINIA] LUCIUS Farewell Andronicus, my noble father, The wofull'st man that ever lived in Rome: Farewell, proud Rome; till Lucius come again, He leaves his pledges dearer than his life: Farewell, Lavinia, my noble sister; O, would thou wert as thou tofore hast been! But now nor Lucius nor Lavinia lives But in oblivion and hateful griefs. If Lucius live, he will requite your wrongs; And make proud Saturnine and his empress Beg at the gates, like Tarquin and his queen. Now will I to the Goths, and raise a power, To be revenged on Rome and Saturnine. [Exit] TITUS ANDRONICUS ACT III SCENE II A room in Titus's house. A banquet set out. [Enter TITUS, MARCUS, LAVINIA and Young LUCIUS, a boy] TITUS ANDRONICUS 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. Marcus, unknit that sorrow-wreathen knot: Thy niece and I, poor creatures, want our hands, And cannot passionate our tenfold grief With folded arms. 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. [To LAVINIA] Thou map of woe, that thus dost talk in signs! When thy poor heart beats with outrageous beating, Thou canst not strike it thus to make it still. 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. MARCUS ANDRONICUS Fie, brother, fie! teach her not thus to lay Such violent hands upon her tender life. TITUS ANDRONICUS How now! has sorrow made thee dote already? Why, Marcus, no man should be mad but I. What violent hands can she lay on her life? Ah, wherefore dost thou urge the name of hands; To bid AEneas tell the tale twice o'er, How Troy was burnt and he made miserable? O, handle not the theme, to talk of hands, Lest we remember still that we have none. Fie, fie, how franticly I square my talk, As if we should forget we had no hands, If Marcus did not name the word of hands! Come, let's fall to; and, gentle girl, eat this: Here is no drink! Hark, Marcus, what she says; I can interpret all her martyr'd signs; She says she drinks no other drink but tears, Brew'd with her sorrow, mesh'd upon her cheeks: Speechless complainer, I will learn thy thought; In thy dumb action will I be as perfect As begging hermits in their holy prayers: Thou shalt not sigh, nor hold thy stumps to heaven, Nor wink, nor nod, nor kneel, nor make a sign, But I of these will wrest an alphabet And by still practise learn to know thy meaning. Young LUCIUS Good grandsire, leave these bitter deep laments: Make my aunt merry with some pleasing tale. MARCUS ANDRONICUS Alas, the tender boy, in passion moved, Doth weep to see his grandsire's heaviness. TITUS ANDRONICUS Peace, tender sapling; thou art made of tears, And tears will quickly melt thy life away. [MARCUS strikes the dish with a knife] What dost thou strike at, Marcus, with thy knife? MARCUS ANDRONICUS At that that I have kill'd, my lord; a fly. TITUS ANDRONICUS 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: get thee gone: I see thou art not for my company. MARCUS ANDRONICUS Alas, my lord, I have but kill'd a fly. TITUS ANDRONICUS But how, if that fly had a father and mother? How would he hang his slender gilded wings, And buzz lamenting doings in the air! Poor harmless fly, That, with his pretty buzzing melody, Came here to make us merry! and thou hast kill'd him. MARCUS ANDRONICUS Pardon me, sir; it was a black ill-favor'd fly, Like to the empress' Moor; therefore I kill'd him. TITUS ANDRONICUS O, O, O, Then pardon me for reprehending thee, For thou hast done a charitable deed. Give me thy knife, I will insult on him; Flattering myself, as if it were the Moor Come hither purposely to poison me.-- There's for thyself, and that's for Tamora. Ah, sirrah! Yet, I think, we are not brought so low, But that between us we can kill a fly That comes in likeness of a coal-black Moor. MARCUS ANDRONICUS Alas, poor man! grief has so wrought on him, He takes false shadows for true substances. TITUS ANDRONICUS Come, take away. Lavinia, go with me: I'll to thy closet; and go read with thee Sad stories chanced in the times of old. Come, boy, and go with me: thy sight is young, And thou shalt read when mine begin to dazzle. [Exeunt] TITUS ANDRONICUS ACT IV SCENE I Rome. Titus's garden. [Enter young LUCIUS, and LAVINIA running after him, and the boy flies from her, with books under his arm. Then enter TITUS and MARCUS] Young LUCIUS Help, grandsire, help! my aunt Lavinia Follows me every where, I know not why: Good uncle Marcus, see how swift she comes. Alas, sweet aunt, I know not what you mean. MARCUS ANDRONICUS Stand by me, Lucius; do not fear thine aunt. TITUS ANDRONICUS She loves thee, boy, too well to do thee harm. Young LUCIUS Ay, when my father was in Rome she did. MARCUS ANDRONICUS What means my niece Lavinia by these signs? TITUS ANDRONICUS Fear her not, Lucius: somewhat doth she mean: See, Lucius, see how much she makes of thee: Somewhither would she have thee go with her. Ah, boy, Cornelia never with more care Read to her sons than she hath read to thee Sweet poetry and Tully's Orator. MARCUS ANDRONICUS Canst thou not guess wherefore she plies thee thus? Young LUCIUS My lord, I know not, I, nor can I guess, Unless some fit or frenzy do possess her: For I have heard my grandsire say full oft, Extremity of griefs would make men mad; And I have read that Hecuba of Troy Ran mad through sorrow: that made me to fear; Although, my lord, I know my noble aunt Loves me as dear as e'er my mother did, And would not, but in fury, fright my youth: Which made me down to throw my books, and fly-- Causeless, perhaps. But pardon me, sweet aunt: And, madam, if my uncle Marcus go, I will most willingly attend your ladyship. MARCUS ANDRONICUS Lucius, I will. [LAVINIA turns over with her stumps the books which LUCIUS has let fall] TITUS ANDRONICUS How now, Lavinia! Marcus, what means this? Some book there is that she desires to see. 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. Why lifts she up her arms in sequence thus? MARCUS ANDRONICUS I think she means that there was more than one Confederate in the fact: ay, more there was; Or else to heaven she heaves them for revenge. TITUS ANDRONICUS Lucius, what book is that she tosseth so? Young LUCIUS Grandsire, 'tis Ovid's Metamorphoses; My mother gave it me. MARCUS ANDRONICUS For love of her that's gone, Perhaps she cull'd it from among the rest. TITUS ANDRONICUS Soft! see how busily she turns the leaves! [Helping her] What would she find? Lavinia, shall I read? This is the tragic tale of Philomel, And treats of Tereus' treason and his rape: And rape, I fear, was root of thine annoy. MARCUS ANDRONICUS See, brother, see; note how she quotes the leaves. TITUS ANDRONICUS Lavinia, wert thou thus surprised, sweet girl, Ravish'd and wrong'd, as Philomela was, Forced in the ruthless, vast, and gloomy woods? See, see! Ay, such a place there is, where we did hunt-- O, had we never, never hunted there!-- Pattern'd by that the poet here describes, By nature made for murders and for rapes. MARCUS ANDRONICUS O, why should nature build so foul a den, Unless the gods delight in tragedies? TITUS ANDRONICUS Give signs, sweet girl, for here are none but friends, What Roman lord it was durst do the deed: Or slunk not Saturnine, as Tarquin erst, That left the camp to sin in Lucrece' bed? MARCUS ANDRONICUS Sit down, sweet niece: brother, sit down by me. Apollo, Pallas, Jove, or Mercury, Inspire me, that I may this treason find! My lord, look here: look here, Lavinia: This sandy plot is plain; guide, if thou canst This after me, when I have writ my name Without the help of any hand at all. [He writes his name with his staff, and guides it with feet and mouth] Cursed be that heart that forced us to this shift! Write thou good niece; and here display, at last, What God will have discover'd for revenge; Heaven guide thy pen to print thy sorrows plain, That we may know the traitors and the truth! [She takes the staff in her mouth, and guides it with her stumps, and writes] TITUS ANDRONICUS O, do ye read, my lord, what she hath writ? 'Stuprum. Chiron. Demetrius.' MARCUS ANDRONICUS What, what! the lustful sons of Tamora Performers of this heinous, bloody deed? TITUS ANDRONICUS Magni Dominator poli, Tam lentus audis scelera? tam lentus vides? MARCUS ANDRONICUS 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 woful fere And father of that chaste dishonour'd 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. TITUS ANDRONICUS 'Tis sure enough, an you knew how. But if you hunt these bear-whelps, then beware: The dam will wake; and, if she wind you once, She's with the lion deeply still in league, And lulls him whilst she playeth on her back, And when he sleeps will she do what she list. You are a young huntsman, Marcus; let it alone; And, come, I will go get a leaf of brass, And with a gad of steel will write these words, And lay it by: the angry northern wind Will blow these sands, like Sibyl's leaves, abroad, And where's your lesson, then? Boy, what say you? Young LUCIUS I say, my lord, that if I were a man, Their mother's bed-chamber should not be safe For these bad bondmen to the yoke of Rome. MARCUS ANDRONICUS Ay, that's my boy! thy father hath full oft For his ungrateful country done the like. Young LUCIUS And, uncle, so will I, an if I live. TITUS ANDRONICUS Come, go with me into mine armoury; Lucius, I'll fit thee; and withal, my boy, Shalt carry from me to the empress' sons Presents that I intend to send them both: Come, come; thou'lt do thy message, wilt thou not? Young LUCIUS Ay, with my dagger in their bosoms, grandsire. TITUS ANDRONICUS No, boy, not so; I'll teach thee another course. Lavinia, come. Marcus, look to my house: Lucius and I'll go brave it at the court: Ay, marry, will we, sir; and we'll be waited on. [Exeunt TITUS, LAVINIA, and Young LUCIUS] MARCUS ANDRONICUS O heavens, can you hear a good man groan, And not relent, or not compassion him? Marcus, attend him in his ecstasy, That hath more scars of sorrow in his heart Than foemen's marks upon his batter'd shield; But yet so just that he will not revenge. Revenge, ye heavens, for old Andronicus! [Exit] TITUS ANDRONICUS ACT IV SCENE II The same. A room in the palace. [Enter, from one side, AARON, DEMETRIUS, and CHIRON; from the other side, Young LUCIUS, and an Attendant, with a bundle of weapons, and verses writ upon them] CHIRON Demetrius, here's the son of Lucius; He hath some message to deliver us. AARON Ay, some mad message from his mad grandfather. Young LUCIUS My lords, with all the humbleness I may, I greet your honours from Andronicus. [Aside] And pray the Roman gods confound you both! DEMETRIUS Gramercy, lovely Lucius: what's the news? Young LUCIUS [Aside] That you are both decipher'd, that's the news, For villains mark'd with rape.--May it please you, My grandsire, well advised, hath sent by me The goodliest weapons of his armoury To gratify your honourable youth, The hope of Rome; for so he bade me say; And so I do, and with his gifts present Your lordships, that, whenever you have need, You may be armed and appointed well: And so I leave you both: [Aside] like bloody villains. [Exeunt Young LUCIUS, and Attendant] DEMETRIUS What's here? A scroll; and written round about? Let's see; [Reads] 'Integer vitae, scelerisque purus, Non eget Mauri jaculis, nec arcu.' CHIRON O, 'tis a verse in Horace; I know it well: I read it in the grammar long ago. AARON Ay, just; a verse in Horace; right, you have it. [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 wrapped about with lines, That wound, beyond their feeling, to the quick. But were our witty empress well afoot, She would applaud Andronicus' conceit: 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. DEMETRIUS But me more good, to see so great a lord Basely insinuate and send us gifts. AARON Had he not reason, Lord Demetrius? Did you not use his daughter very friendly? DEMETRIUS I would we had a thousand Roman dames At such a bay, by turn to serve our lust. CHIRON A charitable wish and full of love. AARON Here lacks but your mother for to say amen. CHIRON And that would she for twenty thousand more. DEMETRIUS Come, let us go; and pray to all the gods For our beloved mother in her pains. AARON [Aside] Pray to the devils; the gods have given us over. [Trumpets sound within] DEMETRIUS Why do the emperor's trumpets flourish thus? CHIRON Belike, for joy the emperor hath a son. DEMETRIUS Soft! who comes here? [Enter a Nurse, with a blackamoor Child in her arms] Nurse Good morrow, lords: O, tell me, did you see Aaron the Moor? AARON Well, more or less, or ne'er a whit at all, Here Aaron is; and what with Aaron now? Nurse O gentle Aaron, we are all undone! Now help, or woe betide thee evermore! AARON Why, what a caterwauling dost thou keep! What dost thou wrap and fumble in thine arms? Nurse O, that which I would hide from heaven's eye, Our empress' shame, and stately Rome's disgrace! She is deliver'd, lords; she is deliver'd. AARON To whom? Nurse I mean, she is brought a-bed. AARON Well, God give her good rest! What hath he sent her? Nurse A devil. AARON Why, then she is the devil's dam; a joyful issue. Nurse A joyless, dismal, black, and sorrowful issue: Here is the babe, as loathsome as a toad Amongst the fairest breeders of our clime: The empress sends it thee, thy stamp, thy seal, And bids thee christen it with thy dagger's point. AARON 'Zounds, ye whore! is black so base a hue? Sweet blowse, you are a beauteous blossom, sure. DEMETRIUS Villain, what hast thou done? AARON That which thou canst not undo. CHIRON Thou hast undone our mother. AARON Villain, I have done thy mother. DEMETRIUS And therein, hellish dog, thou hast undone. Woe to her chance, and damn'd her loathed choice! Accursed the offspring of so foul a fiend! CHIRON It shall not live. AARON It shall not die. Nurse Aaron, it must; the mother wills it so. AARON What, must it, nurse? then let no man but I Do execution on my flesh and blood. DEMETRIUS I'll broach the tadpole on my rapier's point: Nurse, give it me; my sword shall soon dispatch it. AARON Sooner this sword shall plough thy bowels up. [Takes the Child from the Nurse, and draws] Stay, murderous villains! will you kill your brother? Now, by the burning tapers of the sky, That shone so brightly when this boy was got, He dies upon my scimitar's sharp point That touches this my first-born son and heir! I tell you, younglings, not Enceladus, With all his threatening 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-limed 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. Tell the empress from me, I am of age To keep mine own, excuse it how she can. DEMETRIUS Wilt thou betray thy noble mistress thus? AARON My mistress is my mistress; this myself, The vigour and the picture of my youth: This before all the world do I prefer; This maugre all the world will I keep safe, Or some of you shall smoke for it in Rome. DEMETRIUS By this our mother is forever shamed. CHIRON Rome will despise her for this foul escape. Nurse The emperor, in his rage, will doom her death. CHIRON I blush to think upon this ignomy. AARON Why, there's the privilege your beauty bears: Fie, treacherous hue, that will betray with blushing The close enacts and counsels of the heart! Here's a young lad framed of another leer: Look, how the black slave smiles upon the father, As who should say 'Old lad, I am thine own.' He is your brother, lords, sensibly fed Of that self-blood that first gave life to you, And from that womb where you imprison'd were He is enfranchised and come to light: Nay, he is your brother by the surer side, Although my seal be stamped in his face. Nurse Aaron, what shall I say unto the empress? DEMETRIUS Advise thee, Aaron, what is to be done, And we will all subscribe to thy advice: Save thou the child, so we may all be safe. AARON Then sit we down, and let us all consult. My son and I will have the wind of you: Keep there: now talk at pleasure of your safety. [They sit] DEMETRIUS How many women saw this child of his? AARON 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. But say, again; how many saw the child? Nurse Cornelia the midwife and myself; And no one else but the deliver'd empress. AARON The empress, the midwife, and yourself: Two may keep counsel when the third's away: Go to the empress, tell her this I said. [He kills the nurse] Weke, weke! so cries a pig prepared to the spit. DEMETRIUS What mean'st thou, Aaron? wherefore didst thou this? AARON O Lord, sir, 'tis a deed of policy: Shall she live to betray this guilt of ours, A long-tongued babbling gossip? no, lords, no: And now be it known to you my full intent. Not far, one Muli lives, my countryman; His wife but yesternight was brought to bed; His child is like to her, fair as you are: 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 advanced, 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. Hark ye, lords; ye 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: This done, see that you take no longer days, But send the midwife presently to me. The midwife and the nurse well made away, Then let the ladies tattle what they please. CHIRON Aaron, I see thou wilt not trust the air With secrets. DEMETRIUS For this care of Tamora, Herself and hers are highly bound to thee. [Exeunt DEMETRIUS and CHIRON bearing off the Nurse's body] AARON Now to the Goths, as swift as swallow flies; There to dispose this treasure in mine arms, And secretly to greet the empress' friends. Come on, you thick lipp'd slave, I'll bear you hence; For it is you that puts us to our shifts: I'll make you feed on berries and on roots, And feed on curds and whey, and suck the goat, And cabin in a cave, and bring you up To be a warrior, and command a camp. [Exit] TITUS ANDRONICUS ACT IV SCENE III The same. A public place. [Enter TITUS, bearing arrows with letters at the ends of them; with him, MARCUS, Young LUCIUS, PUBLIUS, SEMPRONIUS, CAIUS, and other Gentlemen, with bows] TITUS ANDRONICUS Come, Marcus; come, kinsmen; this is the way. Sir boy, now let me see your archery; Look ye draw home enough, and 'tis there straight. Terras Astraea reliquit: Be you remember'd, Marcus, she's gone, she's fled. Sirs, take you to your tools. 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: No; Publius and Sempronius, you must do it; 'Tis you must dig with mattock and with spade, And pierce the inmost centre of the earth: Then, when you come to Pluto's region, I pray you, deliver him this petition; Tell him, it is for justice and for aid, And that it comes from old Andronicus, Shaken with sorrows in ungrateful Rome. Ah, Rome! Well, well; I made thee miserable What time I threw the people's suffrages On him that thus doth tyrannize o'er me. Go, get you gone; and pray be careful all, And leave you not a man-of-war unsearch'd: This wicked emperor may have shipp'd her hence; And, kinsmen, then we may go pipe for justice. MARCUS ANDRONICUS O Publius, is not this a heavy case, To see thy noble uncle thus distract? PUBLIUS Therefore, my lord, it highly us concerns By day and night to attend him carefully, And feed his humour kindly as we may, Till time beget some careful remedy. MARCUS ANDRONICUS Kinsmen, his sorrows are past remedy. Join with the Goths; and with revengeful war Take wreak on Rome for this ingratitude, And vengeance on the traitor Saturnine. TITUS ANDRONICUS Publius, how now! how now, my masters! What, have you met with her? PUBLIUS No, my good lord; but Pluto sends you word, If you will have Revenge from hell, you shall: Marry, for Justice, she is so employ'd, He thinks, with Jove in heaven, or somewhere else, So that perforce you must needs stay a time. TITUS ANDRONICUS He doth me wrong to feed me with delays. I'll dive into the burning lake below, And pull her out of Acheron by the heels. Marcus, we are but shrubs, no cedars we No big-boned men framed of the Cyclops' size; But metal, Marcus, steel to the very back, Yet wrung with wrongs more than our backs can bear: And, sith there's no justice in earth nor hell, We will solicit heaven and move the gods To send down Justice for to wreak our wrongs. Come, to this gear. You are a good archer, Marcus; [He gives them the arrows] 'Ad Jovem,' that's for you: here, 'Ad Apollinem:' 'Ad Martem,' that's for myself: Here, boy, to Pallas: here, to Mercury: To Saturn, Caius, not to Saturnine; You were as good to shoot against the wind. To it, boy! Marcus, loose when I bid. Of my word, I have written to effect; There's not a god left unsolicited. MARCUS ANDRONICUS Kinsmen, shoot all your shafts into the court: We will afflict the emperor in his pride. TITUS ANDRONICUS Now, masters, draw. [They shoot] O, well said, Lucius! Good boy, in Virgo's lap; give it Pallas. MARCUS ANDRONICUS My lord, I aim a mile beyond the moon; Your letter is with Jupiter by this. TITUS ANDRONICUS Ha, ha! Publius, Publius, what hast thou done? See, see, thou hast shot off one of Taurus' horns. MARCUS ANDRONICUS This was the sport, my lord: 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. TITUS ANDRONICUS Why, there it goes: God give his lordship joy! [Enter a Clown, with a basket, and two pigeons in it] News, news from heaven! Marcus, the post is come. Sirrah, what tidings? have you any letters? Shall I have justice? what says Jupiter? Clown O, the gibbet-maker! he says that he hath taken them down again, for the man must not be hanged till the next week. TITUS ANDRONICUS But what says Jupiter, I ask thee? Clown Alas, sir, I know not Jupiter; I never drank with him in all my life. TITUS ANDRONICUS Why, villain, art not thou the carrier? Clown Ay, of my pigeons, sir; nothing else. TITUS ANDRONICUS Why, didst thou not come from heaven? Clown From heaven! alas, sir, I never came there God forbid I should be so bold to press to heaven in my young days. 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 emperial's men. MARCUS ANDRONICUS 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. TITUS ANDRONICUS Tell me, can you deliver an oration to the emperor with a grace? Clown Nay, truly, sir, I could never say grace in all my life. TITUS ANDRONICUS Sirrah, come hither: make no more ado, But give your pigeons to the emperor: By me thou shalt have justice at his hands. Hold, hold; meanwhile here's money for thy charges. Give me pen and ink. Sirrah, can you with a grace deliver a supplication? Clown Ay, sir. TITUS ANDRONICUS Then here is a supplication for 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. I'll be at hand, sir; see you do it bravely. Clown I warrant you, sir, let me alone. TITUS ANDRONICUS Sirrah, hast thou a knife? come, let me see it. Here, Marcus, fold it in the oration; For thou hast made it like an humble suppliant. And when thou hast given it the emperor, Knock at my door, and tell me what he says. Clown God be with you, sir; I will. TITUS ANDRONICUS Come, Marcus, let us go. Publius, follow me. [Exeunt] TITUS ANDRONICUS ACT IV SCENE IV The same. Before the palace. [Enter SATURNINUS, TAMORA, DEMETRIUS, CHIRON, Lords, and others; SATURNINUS with the arrows in his hand that TITUS shot] SATURNINUS Why, lords, what wrongs are these! was ever seen An emperor in Rome thus overborne, Troubled, confronted thus; and, for the extent Of egal justice, used in such contempt? My lords, you know, as know the mightful gods, However these disturbers of our peace Buz in the people's ears, there nought hath pass'd, But even with law, against the willful sons Of old Andronicus. And what an if His sorrows have so overwhelm'd his wits, Shall we be thus afflicted in his wreaks, His fits, his frenzy, and his bitterness? And now he writes to heaven for his redress: See, here's to Jove, and this to Mercury; This to Apollo; this to the god of war; Sweet scrolls to fly about the streets of Rome! What's this but libelling against the senate, And blazoning our injustice every where? A goodly humour, is it not, my lords? As who would say, in Rome no justice were. 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 she in fury shall Cut off the proud'st conspirator that lives. TAMORA My gracious lord, my lovely Saturnine, Lord of my life, commander of my thoughts, Calm thee, and bear the faults of Titus' age, The effects of sorrow for his valiant sons, Whose loss hath pierced him deep and scarr'd his heart; And rather comfort his distressed plight Than prosecute the meanest or the best For these contempts. [Aside] Why, thus it shall become High-witted Tamora to gloze with all: But, Titus, I have touched thee to the quick, Thy life-blood out: if Aaron now be wise, Then is all safe, the anchor's in the port. [Enter Clown] How now, good fellow! wouldst thou speak with us? Clown Yea, forsooth, an your mistership be emperial. TAMORA Empress I am, but yonder sits the emperor. Clown 'Tis he. God and Saint Stephen give you good den: I have brought you a letter and a couple of pigeons here. [SATURNINUS reads the letter] SATURNINUS Go, take him away, and hang him presently. Clown How much money must I have? TAMORA Come, sirrah, you must be hanged. Clown Hanged! by'r lady, then I have brought up a neck to a fair end. [Exit, guarded] SATURNINUS Despiteful and intolerable wrongs! Shall I endure this monstrous villany? I know from whence this same device proceeds: May this be borne?--as if his traitorous sons, That died by law for murder of our brother, Have by my means been butcher'd wrongfully! Go, drag the villain hither by the hair; Nor age nor honour shall shape privilege: For this proud mock I'll be thy slaughterman; Sly frantic wretch, that holp'st to make me great, In hope thyself should govern Rome and me. [Enter AEMILIUS] What news with thee, AEmilius? AEMILIUS Arm, arm, my lord;--Rome never had more cause. The Goths have gather'd head; and with a power high-resolved men, bent to the spoil, They hither march amain, under conduct Of Lucius, son to old Andronicus; Who threats, in course of this revenge, to do As much as ever Coriolanus did. SATURNINUS Is warlike Lucius general of the Goths? These tidings nip me, and I hang the head As flowers with frost or grass beat down with storms: Ay, now begin our sorrows to approach: 'Tis he the common people love so much; Myself hath often over-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. TAMORA Why should you fear? is not your city strong? SATURNINUS Ay, but the citizens favor Lucius, And will revolt from me to succor him. TAMORA 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 mayst 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. SATURNINUS But he will not entreat his son for us. TAMORA If Tamora entreat him, then he will: For I can smooth and fill his aged ear With golden promises; that, were his heart Almost impregnable, his old ears deaf, Yet should both ear and heart obey my tongue. [To AEmilius] Go thou before, 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. SATURNINUS AEmilius, do this message honourably: And if he stand on hostage for his safety, Bid him demand what pledge will please him best. AEMILIUS Your bidding shall I do effectually. [Exit] TAMORA Now will I to that old Andronicus; And temper him with all the art I have, To pluck proud Lucius from the warlike Goths. And now, sweet emperor, be blithe again, And bury all thy fear in my devices. SATURNINUS Then go successantly, and plead to him. [Exeunt] TITUS ANDRONICUS ACT V SCENE I Plains near Rome. [Enter LUCIUS with an army of Goths, with drum and colours] LUCIUS Approved warriors, and my faithful friends, I have received letters from great Rome, Which signify what hate they bear their emperor And how desirous of our sight they are. Therefore, great lords, be, as your titles witness, Imperious and impatient of your wrongs, And wherein Rome hath done you any scath, Let him make treble satisfaction. First Goth Brave slip, sprung from the great Andronicus, Whose name was once our terror, now our comfort; Whose high exploits and honourable deeds Ingrateful Rome requites with foul contempt, Be bold in us: we'll follow where thou lead'st, Like stinging bees in hottest summer's day Led by their master to the flowered fields, And be avenged on cursed Tamora. All the Goths And as he saith, so say we all with him. LUCIUS I humbly thank him, and I thank you all. But who comes here, led by a lusty Goth? [Enter a Goth, leading AARON with his Child in his arms] Second Goth Renowned Lucius, from our troops I stray'd To gaze upon a ruinous monastery; And, as I earnestly did fix mine eye Upon the wasted building, suddenly I heard a child cry underneath a wall. 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, Surprised him suddenly, and brought him hither, To use as you think needful of the man. LUCIUS O worthy Goth, this is the incarnate devil That robb'd Andronicus of his good hand; This is the pearl that pleased your empress' eye, And here's the base fruit of his burning lust. Say, wall-eyed slave, whither wouldst thou convey This growing image of thy fiend-like face? Why dost not speak? what, deaf? not a word? A halter, soldiers! hang him on this tree. And by his side his fruit of bastardy. AARON Touch not the boy; he is of royal blood. LUCIUS Too like the sire for ever being good. First hang the child, that he may see it sprawl; A sight to vex the father's soul withal. Get me a ladder. [A ladder brought, which AARON is made to ascend] AARON Lucius, save the child, And bear it from me to the empress. If thou do this, I'll show thee wondrous things, That highly may advantage thee to hear: If thou wilt not, befall what may befall, I'll speak no more but 'Vengeance rot you all!' LUCIUS Say on: an if it please me which thou speak'st Thy child shall live, and I will see it nourish'd. AARON An if it please thee! why, assure thee, Lucius, 'Twill vex thy soul to hear what I shall speak; For I must talk of murders, rapes and massacres, Acts of black night, abominable deeds, Complots of mischief, treason, villanies Ruthful to hear, yet piteously perform'd: And this shall all be buried by my death, Unless thou swear to me my child shall live. LUCIUS Tell on thy mind; I say thy child shall live. AARON Swear that he shall, and then I will begin. LUCIUS Who should I swear by? thou believest no god: That granted, how canst thou believe an oath? AARON 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; for that I know An idiot holds his bauble for a god And keeps the oath which by that god he swears, To that I'll urge him: 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. LUCIUS Even by my god I swear to thee I will. AARON First know thou, I begot him on the empress. LUCIUS O most insatiate and luxurious woman! AARON Tut, Lucius, this was but a deed of charity To that which thou shalt hear of me anon. 'Twas her two sons that murder'd Bassianus; They cut thy sister's tongue and ravish'd her And cut her hands and trimm'd her as thou saw'st. LUCIUS O detestable villain! call'st thou that trimming? AARON Why, she was wash'd and cut and trimm'd, and 'twas Trim sport for them that had the doing of it. LUCIUS O barbarous, beastly villains, like thyself! AARON Indeed, I was their tutor to instruct them: That codding spirit had they from their mother, As sure a card as ever won the set; That bloody mind, I think, they learn'd of me, As true a dog as ever fought at head. Well, let my deeds be witness of my worth. I train'd thy brethren to that guileful hole Where the dead corpse of Bassianus lay: I wrote the letter that thy father found And hid the gold within the letter mention'd, Confederate with the queen and her two sons: And what not done, that thou hast cause to rue, Wherein I had no stroke of mischief in it? I play'd the cheater for thy father's hand, And, when I had it, drew myself apart And almost broke my heart with extreme laughter: I pry'd me through the crevice of a wall When, for his hand, he had his two sons' heads; Beheld his tears, and laugh'd so heartily, That both mine eyes were rainy like to his : And when I told the empress of this sport, She swooned almost at my pleasing tale, And for my tidings gave me twenty kisses. First Goth What, canst thou say all this, and never blush? AARON Ay, like a black dog, as the saying is. LUCIUS Art thou not sorry for these heinous deeds? AARON Ay, that I had not done a thousand more. Even now I curse the day--and yet, I think, Few come within the compass of my curse,-- Wherein I did not some notorious ill, As kill a man, or else devise his death, Ravish a maid, or plot the way to do it, Accuse some innocent and forswear myself, Set deadly enmity between two friends, Make poor men's cattle break their necks; Set fire on barns and hay-stacks in the night, And bid the owners quench them with their tears. Oft have I digg'd up dead men from their graves, And set them upright at their dear friends' doors, Even when their sorrows almost were forgot; And on their skins, as on the bark of trees, Have with my knife carved in Roman letters, 'Let not your sorrow die, though I am dead.' Tut, I have done a thousand dreadful things As willingly as one would kill a fly, And nothing grieves me heartily indeed But that I cannot do ten thousand more. LUCIUS Bring down the devil; for he must not die So sweet a death as hanging presently. AARON If there be devils, would I were a devil, To live and burn in everlasting fire, So I might have your company in hell, But to torment you with my bitter tongue! LUCIUS Sirs, stop his mouth, and let him speak no more. [Enter a Goth] Third Goth My lord, there is a messenger from Rome Desires to be admitted to your presence. LUCIUS Let him come near. [Enter AEMILIUS] Welcome, AEmilius what's the news from Rome? AEMILIUS 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. First Goth What says our general? LUCIUS AEmilius, let the emperor give his pledges Unto my father and my uncle Marcus, And we will come. March away. [Exeunt] TITUS ANDRONICUS ACT V SCENE II Rome. Before TITUS's house. [Enter TAMORA, DEMETRIUS, and CHIRON, disguised] TAMORA Thus, in this strange and sad habiliment, I will encounter with Andronicus, And say I am Revenge, sent from below To join with him and right his heinous wrongs. Knock at his study, where, they say, he keeps, To ruminate strange plots of dire revenge; Tell him Revenge is come to join with him, And work confusion on his enemies. [They knock] [Enter TITUS, above] TITUS ANDRONICUS Who doth molest my contemplation? Is it your trick to make me ope the door, That so my sad decrees may fly away, And all my study be to no effect? You are deceived: for what I mean to do See here in bloody lines I have set down; And what is written shall be executed. TAMORA Titus, I am come to talk with thee. TITUS ANDRONICUS No, not a word; how can I grace my talk, Wanting a hand to give it action? Thou hast the odds of me; therefore no more. TAMORA If thou didst know me, thou wouldest talk with me. TITUS ANDRONICUS I am not mad; I know thee well enough: Witness this wretched stump, witness these crimson lines; Witness these trenches made by grief and care, Witness the tiring day and heavy night; Witness all sorrow, that I know thee well For our proud empress, mighty Tamora: Is not thy coming for my other hand? TAMORA Know, thou sad man, I am not Tamora; She is thy enemy, and I thy friend: I am Revenge: sent from the infernal kingdom, To ease the gnawing vulture of thy mind, By working wreakful vengeance on thy foes. 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. TITUS ANDRONICUS Art thou Revenge? and art thou sent to me, To be a torment to mine enemies? TAMORA I am; therefore come down, and welcome me. TITUS ANDRONICUS Do me some service, ere I come to thee. Lo, by thy side where Rape and Murder stands; Now give me 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 globe. 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 the 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: And day by day I'll do this heavy task, So thou destroy Rapine and Murder there. TAMORA These are my ministers, and come with me. TITUS ANDRONICUS Are these thy ministers? what are they call'd? TAMORA Rapine and Murder; therefore called so, Cause they take vengeance of such kind of men. TITUS ANDRONICUS Good Lord, how like the empress' sons they are! And you, the empress! but we worldly men Have miserable, mad, mistaking eyes. 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. [Exit above] TAMORA This closing with him fits his lunacy Whate'er I forge to feed his brain-sick fits, 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 practise out of hand, To scatter and disperse the giddy Goths, Or, at the least, make them his enemies. See, here he comes, and I must ply my theme. [Enter TITUS below] TITUS ANDRONICUS Long have I been forlorn, and all for thee: Welcome, dread Fury, to my woful house: Rapine and Murder, you are welcome too. How like the empress and her sons you are! Well are you fitted, had you but a Moor: Could not all hell afford you such a devil? For well I wot the empress never wags But in her company there is a Moor; And, would you represent our queen aright, It were convenient you had such a devil: But welcome, as you are. What shall we do? TAMORA What wouldst thou have us do, Andronicus? DEMETRIUS Show me a murderer, I'll deal with him. CHIRON Show me a villain that hath done a rape, And I am sent to be revenged on him. TAMORA Show me a thousand that have done thee wrong, And I will be revenged on them all. TITUS ANDRONICUS Look round about the wicked streets of Rome; And when thou find'st a man that's like thyself. Good Murder, stab him; he's a murderer. Go thou with him; and when it is thy hap To find another that is like to thee, Good Rapine, stab him; he's a ravisher. Go thou with them; and in the emperor's court There is a queen, attended by a Moor; Well mayst thou know her by thy own proportion, for up and down she doth resemble thee: I pray thee, do on them some violent death; They have been violent to me and mine. TAMORA Well hast thou lesson'd us; this shall we do. 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 shalt they stoop and kneel, And on them shalt thou ease thy angry heart. What says Andronicus to this device? TITUS ANDRONICUS Marcus, my brother! 'tis sad Titus calls. [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. This do thou for my love; and so let him, As he regards his aged father's life. MARCUS ANDRONICUS This will I do, and soon return again. [Exit] TAMORA Now will I hence about thy business, And take my ministers along with me. TITUS ANDRONICUS Nay, nay, let Rape and Murder stay with me; Or else I'll call my brother back again, And cleave to no revenge but Lucius. TAMORA [Aside to her sons] What say you, boys? will you bide with him, Whiles I go tell my lord the emperor How I have govern'd our determined jest? Yield to his humour, smooth and speak him fair, And tarry with him till I turn again. TITUS ANDRONICUS [Aside] I know them all, though they suppose me mad, And will o'erreach them in their own devices: A pair of cursed hell-hounds and their dam! DEMETRIUS Madam, depart at pleasure; leave us here. TAMORA Farewell, Andronicus: Revenge now goes To lay a complot to betray thy foes. TITUS ANDRONICUS I know thou dost; and, sweet Revenge, farewell. [Exit TAMORA] CHIRON Tell us, old man, how shall we be employ'd? TITUS ANDRONICUS Tut, I have work enough for you to do. Publius, come hither, Caius, and Valentine! [Enter PUBLIUS and others] PUBLIUS What is your will? TITUS ANDRONICUS Know you these two? PUBLIUS The empress' sons, I take them, Chiron and Demetrius. TITUS ANDRONICUS Fie, Publius, fie! thou art too much deceived; The one is Murder, 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. [Exit] [PUBLIUS, &c. lay hold on CHIRON and DEMETRIUS] CHIRON Villains, forbear! we are the empress' sons. PUBLIUS And therefore do we what we are commanded. Stop close their mouths, let them not speak a word. Is he sure bound? look that you bind them fast. [Re-enter TITUS, with LAVINIA; he bearing a knife, and she a basin] TITUS ANDRONICUS Come, come, Lavinia; look, thy foes are bound. Sirs, stop their mouths, let them not speak to me; But let them hear what fearful words I utter. O villains, Chiron and Demetrius! Here stands the spring whom you have stain'd with mud, This goodly summer with your winter mix'd. You kill'd her husband, and for that vile fault Two of her brothers were condemn'd to death, My hand cut off and made a merry jest; Both her sweet hands, her tongue, and that more dear Than hands or tongue, her spotless chastity, Inhuman traitors, you constrain'd and forced. What would you say, if I should let you speak? Villains, for shame you could not beg for grace. Hark, wretches! how I mean to martyr you. This one hand yet is left to cut your throats, Whilst that Lavinia 'tween her stumps doth hold The basin that receives your guilty blood. You know your mother means to feast with me, And calls herself Revenge, and thinks me mad: 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 unhallow'd dam, Like to the earth swallow her own increase. This is the feast that I have bid her to, And this the banquet she shall surfeit on; For worse than Philomel you used my daughter, And worse than Progne I will be revenged: And now prepare your throats. Lavinia, come, [He cuts their throats] 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 baked. Come, come, be every one officious To make this banquet; which I wish may prove More stern and bloody than the Centaurs' feast. So, now bring them in, for I'll play the cook, And see them ready 'gainst their mother comes. [Exeunt, bearing the dead bodies] TITUS ANDRONICUS ACT V SCENE III Court of TITUS's house. A banquet set out. [Enter LUCIUS, MARCUS, and Goths, with AARON prisoner] LUCIUS Uncle Marcus, since it is my father's mind That I repair to Rome, I am content. First Goth And ours with thine, befall what fortune will. LUCIUS Good uncle, take you in this barbarous Moor, This ravenous tiger, this accursed devil; Let him receive no sustenance, fetter him Till he be brought unto the empress' face, For testimony of her foul proceedings: And see the ambush of our friends be strong; I fear the emperor means no good to us. AARON Some devil whisper curses in mine ear, And prompt me, that my tongue may utter forth The venomous malice of my swelling heart! LUCIUS Away, inhuman dog! unhallow'd slave! Sirs, help our uncle to convey him in. [Exeunt Goths, with AARON. Flourish within] The trumpets show the emperor is at hand. [Enter SATURNINUS and TAMORA, with AEMILIUS, Tribunes, Senators, and others] SATURNINUS What, hath the firmament more suns than one? LUCIUS What boots it thee to call thyself a sun? MARCUS ANDRONICUS Rome's emperor, and nephew, break the parle; These quarrels must be quietly debated. The feast is ready, which the careful Titus Hath ordain'd to an honourable end, For peace, for love, for league, and good to Rome: Please you, therefore, draw nigh, and take your places. SATURNINUS Marcus, we will. [Hautboys sound. The Company sit down at table] [Enter TITUS dressed like a Cook, LAVINIA veiled, Young LUCIUS, and others. TITUS places the dishes on the table] TITUS ANDRONICUS Welcome, my gracious lord; welcome, dread queen; Welcome, ye warlike Goths; welcome, Lucius; And welcome, all: although the cheer be poor, 'Twill fill your stomachs; please you eat of it. SATURNINUS Why art thou thus attired, Andronicus? TITUS ANDRONICUS Because I would be sure to have all well, To entertain your highness and your empress. TAMORA We are beholding to you, good Andronicus. TITUS ANDRONICUS An if your highness knew my heart, you were. My lord the emperor, resolve me this: Was it well done of rash Virginius To slay his daughter with his own right hand, Because she was enforced, stain'd, and deflower'd? SATURNINUS It was, Andronicus. TITUS ANDRONICUS Your reason, mighty lord? SATURNINUS Because the girl should not survive her shame, And by her presence still renew his sorrows. TITUS ANDRONICUS A reason mighty, strong, and effectual; A pattern, precedent, and lively warrant, For me, most wretched, to perform the like. Die, die, Lavinia, and thy shame with thee; [Kills LAVINIA] And, with thy shame, thy father's sorrow die! SATURNINUS What hast thou done, unnatural and unkind? TITUS ANDRONICUS Kill'd her, for whom my tears have made me blind. I am as woful as Virginius was, And have a thousand times more cause than he To do this outrage: and it now is done. SATURNINUS What, was she ravish'd? tell who did the deed. TITUS ANDRONICUS Will't please you eat? will't please your highness feed? TAMORA Why hast thou slain thine only daughter thus? TITUS ANDRONICUS Not I; 'twas Chiron and Demetrius: They ravish'd her, and cut away her tongue; And they, 'twas they, that did her all this wrong. SATURNINUS Go fetch them hither to us presently. TITUS ANDRONICUS Why, there they are both, baked in that pie; Whereof their mother daintily hath fed, Eating the flesh that she herself hath bred. 'Tis true, 'tis true; witness my knife's sharp point. [Kills TAMORA] SATURNINUS Die, frantic wretch, for this accursed deed! [Kills TITUS] LUCIUS Can the son's eye behold his father bleed? There's meed for meed, death for a deadly deed! [Kills SATURNINUS. A great tumult. LUCIUS, MARCUS, and others go up into the balcony] MARCUS ANDRONICUS You sad-faced men, people and sons of Rome, By uproar sever'd, like a flight of fowl Scatter'd by winds and high tempestuous gusts, O, let me teach you how to knit again This scatter'd corn into one mutual sheaf, These broken limbs again into one body; Lest Rome herself be bane unto herself, And she whom mighty kingdoms court'sy to, Like a forlorn and desperate castaway, Do shameful execution on herself. But if my frosty signs and chaps of age, Grave witnesses of true experience, Cannot induce you to attend my words, [To LUCIUS] Speak, Rome's dear friend, as erst our ancestor, When with his solemn tongue he did discourse To love-sick Dido's sad attending ear The story of that baleful burning night When subtle Greeks surprised King Priam's Troy, 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. My heart is not compact of flint nor steel; Nor can I utter all our bitter grief, But floods of tears will drown my oratory, And break my utterance, even in the time When it should move you to attend me most, Lending your kind commiseration. Here is a captain, let him tell the tale; Your hearts will throb and weep to hear him speak. LUCIUS Then, noble auditory, be it known to you, That cursed Chiron and Demetrius Were they that murdered our emperor's brother; And they it were that ravished our sister: For their fell faults our brothers were beheaded; Our father's tears despised, 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 oped their arms to embrace me as a friend. I am the turned forth, be it known to you, That have preserved her welfare in my blood; And from her bosom took the enemy's point, Sheathing the steel in my adventurous body. Alas, you know I am no vaunter, I; My scars can witness, dumb although they are, That my report is just and full of truth. But, soft! methinks I do digress too much, Citing my worthless praise: O, pardon me; For when no friends are by, men praise themselves. MARCUS ANDRONICUS Now is my turn to speak. Behold this child: [Pointing to the Child in the arms of an Attendant] Of this was Tamora delivered; The issue of an irreligious Moor, Chief architect and plotter of these woes: The villain is alive in Titus' house, And as he is, to witness this is true. Now judge what cause had Titus to revenge These wrongs, unspeakable, past patience, Or more than any living man could bear. Now you have heard the truth, what say you, Romans? Have we done aught amiss,--show us wherein, And, from the place where you behold us now, The poor remainder of Andronici Will, hand in hand, all headlong cast us down. And on the ragged stones beat forth our brains, And make a mutual closure of our house. Speak, Romans, speak; and if you say we shall, Lo, hand in hand, Lucius and I will fall. AEMILIUS 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. All Lucius, all hail, Rome's royal emperor! MARCUS ANDRONICUS Go, go into old Titus' sorrowful house, [To Attendants] And hither hale that misbelieving Moor, To be adjudged some direful slaughtering death, As punishment for his most wicked life. [Exeunt Attendants] [LUCIUS, MARCUS, and the others descend] All Lucius, all hail, Rome's gracious governor! LUCIUS Thanks, gentle Romans: may I govern so, To heal Rome's harms, and wipe away her woe! But, gentle people, give me aim awhile, For nature puts me to a heavy task: Stand all aloof: but, uncle, draw you near, To shed obsequious tears upon this trunk. O, take this warm kiss on thy pale cold lips, [Kissing TITUS] These sorrowful drops upon thy blood-stain'd face, The last true duties of thy noble son! MARCUS ANDRONICUS Tear for tear, and loving kiss for kiss, Thy brother Marcus tenders on thy lips: O were the sum of these that I should pay Countless and infinite, yet would I pay them! LUCIUS Come hither, boy; come, come, and learn of us To melt in showers: thy grandsire loved thee well: Many a time he danced thee on his knee, Sung thee asleep, his loving breast thy pillow: Many a matter hath he told to thee, Meet and agreeing with thine infancy; In that respect, then, like a loving child, Shed yet some small drops from thy tender spring, Because kind nature doth require it so: Friends should associate friends in grief and woe: Bid him farewell; commit him to the grave; Do him that kindness, and take leave of him. Young LUCIUS O grandsire, grandsire! even with all my heart Would I were dead, so you did live again! O Lord, I cannot speak to him for weeping; My tears will choke me, if I ope my mouth. [Re-enter Attendants with AARON] AEMILIUS You sad Andronici, have done with woes: Give sentence on this execrable wretch, That hath been breeder of these dire events. LUCIUS Set him breast-deep in earth, and famish him; There let him stand, and rave, and cry for food; If any one relieves or pities him, For the offence he dies. This is our doom: Some stay to see him fasten'd in the earth. AARON O, why should wrath be mute, and fury dumb? I am no baby, I, that with base prayers I should repent the evils I have done: Ten thousand worse than ever yet I did Would I perform, if I might have my will; If one good deed in all my life I did, I do repent it from my very soul. LUCIUS Some loving friends convey the emperor hence, And give him burial in his father's grave: My father and Lavinia shall forthwith Be closed in our household's monument. As for that heinous tiger, Tamora, No funeral rite, nor man m mourning weeds, No mournful bell shall ring her burial; But throw her forth to beasts and birds of prey: Her life was beast-like, and devoid of pity; And, being so, shall have like want of pity. See justice done on Aaron, that damn'd Moor, By whom our heavy haps had their beginning: Then, afterwards, to order well the state, That like events may ne'er it ruinate. [Exeunt] ROMEO AND JULIET DRAMATIS PERSONAE ESCALUS prince of Verona. (PRINCE:) PARIS a young nobleman, kinsman to the prince. MONTAGUE | | heads of two houses at variance with each other. CAPULET | An old man, cousin to Capulet. (Second Capulet:) ROMEO son to Montague. MERCUTIO kinsman to the prince, and friend to Romeo. BENVOLIO nephew to Montague, and friend to Romeo. TYBALT nephew to Lady Capulet. FRIAR LAURENCE | | Franciscans. FRIAR JOHN | BALTHASAR servant to Romeo. SAMPSON | | servants to Capulet. GREGORY | PETER servant to Juliet's nurse. ABRAHAM servant to Montague. An Apothecary. (Apothecary:) Three Musicians. (First Musician:) (Second Musician:) (Third Musician:) Page to Paris; (PAGE:) another Page; an officer. LADY MONTAGUE wife to Montague. LADY CAPULET wife to Capulet. JULIET daughter to Capulet. Nurse to Juliet. (Nurse:) Citizens of Verona; several Men and Women, relations to both houses; Maskers, Guards, Watchmen, and Attendants. (First Citizen:) (Servant:) (First Servant:) (Second Servant:) (First Watchman:) (Second Watchman:) (Third Watchman:) Chorus. SCENE Verona: Mantua. ROMEO AND JULIET PROLOGUE Two households, both alike in dignity, In fair Verona, where we lay our scene, From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life; Whole misadventured piteous overthrows Do with their death bury their parents' strife. The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love, And the continuance of their parents' rage, Which, but their children's end, nought could remove, Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage; The which if you with patient ears attend, What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend. ROMEO AND JULIET ACT I SCENE I Verona. A public place. [Enter SAMPSON and GREGORY, of the house of Capulet, armed with swords and bucklers] SAMPSON Gregory, o' my word, we'll not carry coals. GREGORY No, for then we should be colliers. SAMPSON I mean, an we be in choler, we'll draw. GREGORY Ay, while you live, draw your neck out o' the collar. SAMPSON I strike quickly, being moved. GREGORY But thou art not quickly moved to strike. SAMPSON A dog of the house of Montague moves me. GREGORY To move is to stir; and to be valiant is to stand: therefore, if thou art moved, thou runn'st away. SAMPSON A dog of that house shall move me to stand: I will take the wall of any man or maid of Montague's. GREGORY That shows thee a weak slave; for the weakest goes to the wall. SAMPSON True; and therefore women, being the weaker vessels, are ever thrust to the wall: therefore I will push Montague's men from the wall, and thrust his maids to the wall. GREGORY The quarrel is between our masters and us their men. SAMPSON 'Tis all one, I will show myself a tyrant: when I have fought with the men, I will be cruel with the maids, and cut off their heads. GREGORY The heads of the maids? SAMPSON Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maidenheads; take it in what sense thou wilt. GREGORY They must take it in sense that feel it. SAMPSON Me they shall feel while I am able to stand: and 'tis known I am a pretty piece of flesh. GREGORY 'Tis well thou art not fish; if thou hadst, thou hadst been poor John. Draw thy tool! here comes two of the house of the Montagues. SAMPSON My naked weapon is out: quarrel, I will back thee. GREGORY How! turn thy back and run? SAMPSON Fear me not. GREGORY No, marry; I fear thee! SAMPSON Let us take the law of our sides; let them begin. GREGORY I will frown as I pass by, and let them take it as they list. SAMPSON Nay, as they dare. I will bite my thumb at them; which is a disgrace to them, if they bear it. [Enter ABRAHAM and BALTHASAR] ABRAHAM Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? SAMPSON I do bite my thumb, sir. ABRAHAM Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? SAMPSON [Aside to GREGORY] Is the law of our side, if I say ay? GREGORY No. SAMPSON No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir, but I bite my thumb, sir. GREGORY Do you quarrel, sir? ABRAHAM Quarrel sir! no, sir. SAMPSON If you do, sir, I am for you: I serve as good a man as you. ABRAHAM No better. SAMPSON Well, sir. GREGORY Say 'better:' here comes one of my master's kinsmen. SAMPSON Yes, better, sir. ABRAHAM You lie. SAMPSON Draw, if you be men. Gregory, remember thy swashing blow. [They fight] [Enter BENVOLIO] BENVOLIO Part, fools! Put up your swords; you know not what you do. [Beats down their swords] [Enter TYBALT] TYBALT What, art thou drawn among these heartless hinds? Turn thee, Benvolio, look upon thy death. BENVOLIO I do but keep the peace: put up thy sword, Or manage it to part these men with me. TYBALT What, drawn, and talk of peace! I hate the word, As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee: Have at thee, coward! [They fight] [Enter, several of both houses, who join the fray; then enter Citizens, with clubs] First Citizen Clubs, bills, and partisans! strike! beat them down! Down with the Capulets! down with the Montagues! [Enter CAPULET in his gown, and LADY CAPULET] CAPULET What noise is this? Give me my long sword, ho! LADY CAPULET A crutch, a crutch! why call you for a sword? CAPULET My sword, I say! Old Montague is come, And flourishes his blade in spite of me. [Enter MONTAGUE and LADY MONTAGUE] MONTAGUE Thou villain Capulet,--Hold me not, let me go. LADY MONTAGUE Thou shalt not stir a foot to seek a foe. [Enter PRINCE, with Attendants] PRINCE 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 mistemper'd weapons to the ground, And hear the sentence of your moved prince. Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word, By thee, old Capulet, and Montague, Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets, And made Verona's ancient citizens Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments, To wield old partisans, in hands as old, Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd hate: If ever you disturb our streets again, Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace. For this time, all the rest depart away: You Capulet; shall go along with me: And, Montague, come you this afternoon, To know our further pleasure in this case, To old Free-town, our common judgment-place. Once more, on pain of death, all men depart. [Exeunt all but MONTAGUE, LADY MONTAGUE, and BENVOLIO] MONTAGUE Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach? Speak, nephew, were you by when it began? BENVOLIO Here were the servants of your adversary, And yours, close fighting ere I did approach: I drew to part them: in the instant came The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepared, Which, as he breathed defiance to my ears, He swung about his head and cut the winds, Who nothing hurt withal hiss'd him in scorn: 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. LADY MONTAGUE O, where is Romeo? saw you him to-day? Right glad I am he was not at this fray. BENVOLIO Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd sun Peer'd forth the golden window of the east, A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad; Where, underneath the grove of sycamore That westward rooteth from the city's side, So early walking did I see your son: Towards him I made, but he was ware of me And stole into the covert of the wood: I, measuring his affections by my own, That most are busied when they're most alone, Pursued my humour not pursuing his, And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me. MONTAGUE Many a morning hath he there been seen, With tears augmenting the fresh morning dew. Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs; But all so soon as the all-cheering sun Should in the furthest east begin to draw The shady curtains from Aurora's bed, Away from the light steals home my heavy son, And private in his chamber pens himself, Shuts up his windows, locks far daylight out And makes himself an artificial night: Black and portentous must this humour prove, Unless good counsel may the cause remove. BENVOLIO My noble uncle, do you know the cause? MONTAGUE I neither know it nor can learn of him. BENVOLIO Have you importuned him by any means? MONTAGUE Both by myself and many other friends: 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. Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow. We would as willingly give cure as know. [Enter ROMEO] BENVOLIO See, where he comes: so please you, step aside; I'll know his grievance, or be much denied. MONTAGUE I would thou wert so happy by thy stay, To hear true shrift. Come, madam, let's away. [Exeunt MONTAGUE and LADY MONTAGUE] BENVOLIO Good-morrow, cousin. ROMEO Is the day so young? BENVOLIO But new struck nine. ROMEO Ay me! sad hours seem long. Was that my father that went hence so fast? BENVOLIO It was. What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours? ROMEO Not having that, which, having, makes them short. BENVOLIO In love? ROMEO Out-- BENVOLIO Of love? ROMEO Out of her favour, where I am in love. BENVOLIO Alas, that love, so gentle in his view, Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof! ROMEO Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still, Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will! Where shall we dine? O me! What fray was here? Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all. Here's much to do with hate, but more with love. Why, then, O brawling love! O loving hate! O any thing, of nothing first create! O heavy lightness! serious vanity! Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms! Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health! Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is! This love feel I, that feel no love in this. Dost thou not laugh? BENVOLIO No, coz, I rather weep. ROMEO Good heart, at what? BENVOLIO At thy good heart's oppression. ROMEO Why, such is love's transgression. Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast, Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest With more of thine: this love that thou hast shown Doth add more grief to too much of mine own. Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs; Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; Being vex'd a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears: What is it else? a madness most discreet, A choking gall and a preserving sweet. Farewell, my coz. BENVOLIO Soft! I will go along; An if you leave me so, you do me wrong. ROMEO Tut, I have lost myself; I am not here; This is not Romeo, he's some other where. BENVOLIO Tell me in sadness, who is that you love. ROMEO What, shall I groan and tell thee? BENVOLIO Groan! why, no. But sadly tell me who. ROMEO Bid a sick man in sadness make his will: Ah, word ill urged to one that is so ill! In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman. BENVOLIO I aim'd so near, when I supposed you loved. ROMEO A right good mark-man! And she's fair I love. BENVOLIO A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit. ROMEO Well, in that hit you miss: she'll not be hit With Cupid's arrow; she hath Dian's wit; And, in strong proof of chastity well arm'd, From love's weak childish bow she lives unharm'd. She will not stay the siege of loving terms, Nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes, Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold: O, she is rich in beauty, only poor, That when she dies with beauty dies her store. BENVOLIO Then she hath sworn that she will still live chaste? ROMEO She hath, and in that sparing makes huge waste, For beauty starved with her severity Cuts beauty off from all posterity. She is too fair, too wise, wisely too fair, To merit bliss by making me despair: She hath forsworn to love, and in that vow Do I live dead that live to tell it now. BENVOLIO Be ruled by me, forget to think of her. ROMEO O, teach me how I should forget to think. BENVOLIO By giving liberty unto thine eyes; Examine other beauties. ROMEO 'Tis the way To call hers exquisite, in question more: These happy masks that kiss fair ladies' brows Being black put us in mind they hide the fair; He that is strucken blind cannot forget The precious treasure of his eyesight lost: Show me a mistress that is passing fair, What doth her beauty serve, but as a note Where I may read who pass'd that passing fair? Farewell: thou canst not teach me to forget. BENVOLIO I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt. [Exeunt] ROMEO AND JULIET ACT I SCENE II A street. [Enter CAPULET, PARIS, and Servant] CAPULET 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. PARIS Of honourable reckoning are you both; And pity 'tis you lived at odds so long. But now, my lord, what say you to my suit? CAPULET But saying o'er what I have said before: My child is yet a stranger in the world; She hath not seen the change of fourteen years, Let two more summers wither in their pride, Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride. PARIS Younger than she are happy mothers made. CAPULET And too soon marr'd are those so early made. The earth hath swallow'd all my hopes but she, She is the hopeful lady of my earth: But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart, My will to her consent is but a part; An she agree, within her scope of choice Lies my consent and fair according voice. This night I hold an old accustom'd feast, Whereto I have invited many a guest, Such as I love; and you, among the store, One more, most welcome, makes my number more. At my poor house look to behold this night Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light: Such comfort as do lusty young men feel When well-apparell'd April on the heel Of limping winter treads, even such delight Among fresh female buds shall you this night Inherit at my house; hear all, all see, And like her most whose merit most shall be: Which on more view, of many mine being one May stand in number, though in reckoning none, Come, go with me. [To Servant, giving a paper] Go, sirrah, trudge about Through fair Verona; find those persons out Whose names are written there, and to them say, My house and welcome on their pleasure stay. [Exeunt CAPULET and PARIS] Servant Find them out whose names are written here! It is written, that the shoemaker should meddle with his yard, and the tailor with his last, the fisher with his pencil, and the painter with his nets; but I am sent to find those persons whose names are here writ, and can never find what names the writing person hath here writ. I must to the learned.--In good time. [Enter BENVOLIO and ROMEO] BENVOLIO Tut, man, one fire burns out another's burning, One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish; Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning; One desperate grief cures with another's languish: Take thou some new infection to thy eye, And the rank poison of the old will die. ROMEO Your plaintain-leaf is excellent for that. BENVOLIO For what, I pray thee? ROMEO For your broken shin. BENVOLIO Why, Romeo, art thou mad? ROMEO Not mad, but bound more than a mad-man is; Shut up in prison, kept without my food, Whipp'd and tormented and--God-den, good fellow. Servant God gi' god-den. I pray, sir, can you read? ROMEO Ay, mine own fortune in my misery. Servant Perhaps you have learned it without book: but, I pray, can you read any thing you see? ROMEO Ay, if I know the letters and the language. Servant Ye say honestly: rest you merry! ROMEO Stay, fellow; I can read. [Reads] 'Signior Martino and his wife and daughters; County Anselme and his beauteous sisters; the lady widow of Vitravio; Signior Placentio and his lovely nieces; Mercutio and his brother Valentine; mine uncle Capulet, his wife and daughters; my fair niece Rosaline; Livia; Signior Valentio and his cousin Tybalt, Lucio and the lively Helena.' A fair assembly: whither should they come? Servant Up. ROMEO Whither? Servant To supper; to our house. ROMEO Whose house? Servant My master's. ROMEO Indeed, I should have ask'd you that before. Servant Now I'll tell you without asking: my master is the great rich Capulet; and if you be not of the house of Montagues, I pray, come and crush a cup of wine. Rest you merry! [Exit] BENVOLIO At this same ancient feast of Capulet's Sups the fair Rosaline whom thou so lovest, 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. ROMEO 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. BENVOLIO Tut, you saw her fair, none else being by, Herself poised with herself in either eye: But in that crystal scales let there be weigh'd Your lady's love against some other maid That I will show you shining at this feast, And she shall scant show well that now shows best. ROMEO I'll go along, no such sight to be shown, But to rejoice in splendor of mine own. [Exeunt] ROMEO AND JULIET ACT I SCENE III A room in Capulet's house. [Enter LADY CAPULET and Nurse] LADY CAPULET Nurse, where's my daughter? call her forth to me. Nurse Now, by my maidenhead, at twelve year old, I bade her come. What, lamb! what, ladybird! God forbid! Where's this girl? What, Juliet! [Enter JULIET] JULIET How now! who calls? Nurse Your mother. JULIET Madam, I am here. What is your will? LADY CAPULET This is the matter:--Nurse, give leave awhile, We must talk in secret:--nurse, come back again; I have remember'd me, thou's hear our counsel. Thou know'st my daughter's of a pretty age. Nurse Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour. LADY CAPULET She's not fourteen. Nurse I'll lay fourteen of my teeth,-- And yet, to my teeth be it spoken, I have but four-- She is not fourteen. How long is it now To Lammas-tide? LADY CAPULET A fortnight and odd days. Nurse Even or odd, of all days in the year, Come Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen. Susan and she--God rest all Christian souls!-- Were of an age: well, Susan is with God; She was too good for me: but, as I said, On Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen; That shall she, marry; I remember it well. '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 dove-house wall; My lord and you were then at Mantua:-- Nay, I do bear a brain:--but, as I said, When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple Of my dug and felt it bitter, pretty fool, To see it tetchy and fall out with the dug! Shake quoth the dove-house: 'twas no need, I trow, To bid me trudge: And since that time it is eleven years; For then she could stand alone; nay, by the 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: 'Yea,' quoth he, 'dost thou fall upon thy face? Thou wilt fall backward when thou hast more wit; Wilt thou not, Jule?' and, by my holidame, The pretty wretch left crying and said 'Ay.' To see, now, how a jest shall come about! I warrant, an I should live a thousand years, I never should forget it: 'Wilt thou not, Jule?' quoth he; And, pretty fool, it stinted and said 'Ay.' LADY CAPULET Enough of this; I pray thee, hold thy peace. Nurse Yes, madam: yet I cannot choose but laugh, To think it should leave crying and say 'Ay.' And yet, I warrant, it had upon its brow A bump as big as a young cockerel's stone; A parlous knock; and it cried bitterly: 'Yea,' quoth my husband,'fall'st upon thy face? Thou wilt fall backward when thou comest to age; Wilt thou not, Jule?' it stinted and said 'Ay.' JULIET And stint thou too, I pray thee, nurse, say I. Nurse Peace, I have done. God mark thee to his grace! Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nursed: An I might live to see thee married once, I have my wish. LADY CAPULET Marry, that 'marry' is the very theme I came to talk of. Tell me, daughter Juliet, How stands your disposition to be married? JULIET It is an honour that I dream not of. Nurse An honour! were not I thine only nurse, I would say thou hadst suck'd wisdom from thy teat. LADY CAPULET Well, think of marriage now; younger than you, Here in Verona, ladies of esteem, Are made already mothers: by my count, I was your mother much upon these years That you are now a maid. Thus then in brief: The valiant Paris seeks you for his love. Nurse A man, young lady! lady, such a man As all the world--why, he's a man of wax. LADY CAPULET Verona's summer hath not such a flower. Nurse Nay, he's a flower; in faith, a very flower. LADY CAPULET What say you? can you love the gentleman? This night you shall behold him at our feast; Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face, And find delight writ there with beauty's pen; Examine every married lineament, And see how one another lends content And what obscured in this fair volume lies Find written in the margent of his eyes. This precious book of love, this unbound lover, To beautify him, only lacks a cover: The fish lives in the sea, and 'tis much pride For fair without the fair within to hide: That book in many's eyes doth share the glory, That in gold clasps locks in the golden story; So shall you share all that he doth possess, By having him, making yourself no less. Nurse No less! nay, bigger; women grow by men. LADY CAPULET Speak briefly, can you like of Paris' love? JULIET I'll look to like, if looking liking move: But no more deep will I endart mine eye Than your consent gives strength to make it fly. [Enter a Servant] Servant Madam, the guests are come, supper served up, you called, my young lady asked for, the nurse cursed in the pantry, and every thing in extremity. I must hence to wait; I beseech you, follow straight. LADY CAPULET We follow thee. [Exit Servant] Juliet, the county stays. Nurse Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days. [Exeunt] ROMEO AND JULIET ACT I SCENE IV A street. [Enter ROMEO, MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, with five or six Maskers, Torch-bearers, and others] ROMEO What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse? Or shall we on without a apology? BENVOLIO The date is out of such prolixity: We'll have no Cupid hoodwink'd with a scarf, Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath, Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper; 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. ROMEO Give me a torch: I am not for this ambling; Being but heavy, I will bear the light. MERCUTIO Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance. ROMEO Not I, believe me: you have dancing shoes With nimble soles: I have a soul of lead So stakes me to the ground I cannot move. MERCUTIO You are a lover; borrow Cupid's wings, And soar with them above a common bound. ROMEO I am too sore enpierced with his shaft To soar with his light feathers, and so bound, I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe: Under love's heavy burden do I sink. MERCUTIO And, to sink in it, should you burden love; Too great oppression for a tender thing. ROMEO Is love a tender thing? it is too rough, Too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn. MERCUTIO If love be rough with you, be rough with love; Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down. Give me a case to put my visage in: A visor for a visor! what care I What curious eye doth quote deformities? Here are the beetle brows shall blush for me. BENVOLIO Come, knock and enter; and no sooner in, But every man betake him to his legs. ROMEO 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. MERCUTIO 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. Come, we burn daylight, ho! ROMEO Nay, that's not so. MERCUTIO I mean, sir, in delay We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day. Take our good meaning, for our judgment sits Five times in that ere once in our five wits. ROMEO And we mean well in going to this mask; But 'tis no wit to go. MERCUTIO Why, may one ask? ROMEO I dream'd a dream to-night. MERCUTIO And so did I. ROMEO Well, what was yours? MERCUTIO That dreamers often lie. ROMEO In bed asleep, while they do dream things true. MERCUTIO O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you. She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate-stone On the fore-finger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomies Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep; Her wagon-spokes made of long spiders' legs, The cover of the wings of grasshoppers, The traces of the smallest spider's web, The collars of the moonshine's watery beams, Her whip of cricket's bone, the lash of film, Her wagoner a small grey-coated gnat, Not so big as a round little worm Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid; Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut 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 court'sies 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: Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck, And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats, Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades, Of healths five-fathom deep; and then anon Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes, And being thus frighted swears a prayer or two And sleeps again. 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: This is she-- ROMEO Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace! Thou talk'st of nothing. MERCUTIO 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. BENVOLIO This wind, you talk of, blows us from ourselves; Supper is done, and we shall come too late. ROMEO I fear, too early: for my mind misgives Some consequence yet hanging in the stars Shall bitterly begin his fearful date With this night's revels and expire the term Of a despised life closed in my breast By some vile forfeit of untimely death. But He, that hath the steerage of my course, Direct my sail! On, lusty gentlemen. BENVOLIO Strike, drum. [Exeunt] ROMEO AND JULIET ACT I SCENE V A hall in Capulet's house. [Musicians waiting. Enter Servingmen with napkins] First Servant Where's Potpan, that he helps not to take away? He shift a trencher? he scrape a trencher! Second Servant When good manners shall lie all in one or two men's hands and they unwashed too, 'tis a foul thing. First Servant Away with the joint-stools, remove the court-cupboard, look to the plate. Good thou, save me a piece of marchpane; and, as thou lovest me, let the porter let in Susan Grindstone and Nell. Antony, and Potpan! Second Servant Ay, boy, ready. First Servant You are looked for and called for, asked for and sought for, in the great chamber. Second Servant We cannot be here and there too. Cheerly, boys; be brisk awhile, and the longer liver take all. [Enter CAPULET, with JULIET and others of his house, meeting the Guests and Maskers] CAPULET Welcome, gentlemen! ladies that have their toes Unplagued with corns will have a bout with you. Ah ha, my mistresses! which of you all Will now deny to dance? she that makes dainty, She, I'll swear, hath corns; am I come near ye now? Welcome, gentlemen! I have seen the day That I have worn a visor and could tell A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear, Such as would please: 'tis gone, 'tis gone, 'tis gone: You are welcome, gentlemen! come, musicians, play. A hall, a hall! give room! and foot it, girls. [Music plays, and they dance] More light, you knaves; and turn the tables up, And quench the fire, the room is grown too hot. Ah, sirrah, this unlook'd-for sport comes well. Nay, sit, nay, sit, good cousin Capulet; For you and I are past our dancing days: How long is't now since last yourself and I Were in a mask? Second Capulet By'r lady, thirty years. CAPULET What, man! 'tis not so much, 'tis not so much: 'Tis since the nuptials of Lucentio, Come pentecost as quickly as it will, Some five and twenty years; and then we mask'd. Second Capulet 'Tis more, 'tis more, his son is elder, sir; His son is thirty. CAPULET Will you tell me that? His son was but a ward two years ago. ROMEO [To a Servingman] What lady is that, which doth enrich the hand Of yonder knight? Servant I know not, sir. ROMEO O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear; Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear! So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows, As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows. The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand, And, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand. Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night. TYBALT This, by his voice, should be a Montague. Fetch me my rapier, boy. What dares the slave Come hither, cover'd with an antic face, To fleer and scorn at our solemnity? Now, by the stock and honour of my kin, To strike him dead, I hold it not a sin. CAPULET Why, how now, kinsman! wherefore storm you so? TYBALT Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe, A villain that is hither come in spite, To scorn at our solemnity this night. CAPULET Young Romeo is it? TYBALT 'Tis he, that villain Romeo. CAPULET Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone; He bears him like a portly gentleman; And, to say truth, Verona brags of him To be a virtuous and well-govern'd youth: I would not for the wealth of all the town Here in my house do him disparagement: Therefore be patient, take no note of him: It is my will, the which if thou respect, Show a fair presence and put off these frowns, And ill-beseeming semblance for a feast. TYBALT It fits, when such a villain is a guest: I'll not endure him. CAPULET He shall be endured: What, goodman boy! I say, he shall: go to; Am I the master here, or you? go to. You'll not endure him! God shall mend my soul! You'll make a mutiny among my guests! You will set cock-a-hoop! you'll be the man! TYBALT Why, uncle, 'tis a shame. CAPULET Go to, go to; You are a saucy boy: is't so, indeed? This trick may chance to scathe you, I know what: You must contrary me! marry, 'tis time. Well said, my hearts! You are a princox; go: Be quiet, or--More light, more light! For shame! I'll make you quiet. What, cheerly, my hearts! TYBALT Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting. I will withdraw: but this intrusion shall Now seeming sweet convert to bitter gall. [Exit] ROMEO [To JULIET] If I profane with my unworthiest hand This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss. JULIET Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, Which mannerly devotion shows in this; For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss. ROMEO Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too? JULIET Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer. ROMEO O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do; They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair. JULIET Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake. ROMEO Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take. Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged. JULIET Then have my lips the sin that they have took. ROMEO Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again. JULIET You kiss by the book. Nurse Madam, your mother craves a word with you. ROMEO What is her mother? Nurse Marry, bachelor, Her mother is the lady of the house, And a good lady, and a wise and virtuous I nursed her daughter, that you talk'd withal; I tell you, he that can lay hold of her Shall have the chinks. ROMEO Is she a Capulet? O dear account! my life is my foe's debt. BENVOLIO Away, begone; the sport is at the best. ROMEO Ay, so I fear; the more is my unrest. CAPULET Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone; We have a trifling foolish banquet towards. Is it e'en so? why, then, I thank you all I thank you, honest gentlemen; good night. More torches here! Come on then, let's to bed. Ah, sirrah, by my fay, it waxes late: I'll to my rest. [Exeunt all but JULIET and Nurse] JULIET Come hither, nurse. What is yond gentleman? Nurse The son and heir of old Tiberio. JULIET What's he that now is going out of door? Nurse Marry, that, I think, be young Petrucio. JULIET What's he that follows there, that would not dance? Nurse I know not. JULIET Go ask his name: if he be married. My grave is like to be my wedding bed. Nurse His name is Romeo, and a Montague; The only son of your great enemy. JULIET 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. Nurse What's this? what's this? JULIET A rhyme I learn'd even now Of one I danced withal. [One calls within 'Juliet.'] Nurse Anon, anon! Come, let's away; the strangers all are gone. [Exeunt] ROMEO AND JULIET ACT II PROLOGUE [Enter Chorus] Chorus Now old desire doth in his death-bed lie, And young affection gapes to be his heir; That fair for which love groan'd for and would die, With tender Juliet match'd, is now not fair. Now Romeo is beloved and loves again, Alike betwitched by the charm of looks, But to his foe supposed he must complain, And she steal love's sweet bait from fearful hooks: Being held a foe, he may not have access To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear; And she as much in love, her means much less To meet her new-beloved any where: But passion lends them power, time means, to meet Tempering extremities with extreme sweet. [Exit] ROMEO AND JULIET ACT II SCENE I A lane by the wall of Capulet's orchard. [Enter ROMEO] ROMEO Can I go forward when my heart is here? Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out. [He climbs the wall, and leaps down within it] [Enter BENVOLIO and MERCUTIO] BENVOLIO Romeo! my cousin Romeo! MERCUTIO He is wise; And, on my lie, hath stol'n him home to bed. BENVOLIO He ran this way, and leap'd this orchard wall: Call, good Mercutio. MERCUTIO Nay, I'll conjure too. 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 nick-name for her purblind son and heir, Young Adam Cupid, he that shot so trim, When King Cophetua loved the beggar-maid! He heareth not, he stirreth not, he moveth not; The ape is dead, and I must conjure him. I conjure thee by Rosaline's bright eyes, By her high forehead and her scarlet lip, By her fine foot, straight leg and quivering thigh And the demesnes that there adjacent lie, That in thy likeness thou appear to us! BENVOLIO And if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him. MERCUTIO This cannot anger him: 'twould anger him To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle Of some strange nature, letting it there stand Till she had laid it and conjured it down; That were some spite: my invocation Is fair and honest, and in his mistress' name I conjure only but to raise up him. BENVOLIO Come, he hath hid himself among these trees, To be consorted with the humorous night: Blind is his love and best befits the dark. MERCUTIO If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark. 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. Romeo, that she were, O, that she were An open et caetera, thou a poperin pear! Romeo, good night: I'll to my truckle-bed; This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep: Come, shall we go? BENVOLIO Go, then; for 'tis in vain To seek him here that means not to be found. [Exeunt] ROMEO AND JULIET ACT II SCENE II Capulet's orchard. [Enter ROMEO] ROMEO He jests at scars that never felt a wound. [JULIET appears above at a window] But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief, That thou her maid art far more fair than she: Be not her maid, since she is envious; Her vestal livery is but sick and green And none but fools do wear it; cast it off. It is my lady, O, it is my love! O, that she knew she were! She speaks yet she says nothing: what of that? Her eye discourses; I will answer it. I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks: Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, Having some business, do entreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres till they return. What if her eyes were there, they in her head? The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars, As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven Would through the airy region stream so bright That birds would sing and think it were not night. See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand! O, that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek! JULIET Ay me! ROMEO She speaks: 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 wondering 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. JULIET O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I'll no longer be a Capulet. ROMEO [Aside] Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this? JULIET 'Tis but thy name that is my enemy; Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot, Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part Belonging to a man. O, be some other name! What's in a name? that which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet; So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, Retain that dear perfection which he owes Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name, And for that name which is no part of thee Take all myself. ROMEO I take thee at thy word: Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized; Henceforth I never will be Romeo. JULIET What man art thou that thus bescreen'd in night So stumblest on my counsel? ROMEO By a name I know not how to tell thee who I am: My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself, Because it is an enemy to thee; Had I it written, I would tear the word. JULIET My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words Of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound: Art thou not Romeo and a Montague? ROMEO Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike. JULIET How camest 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. ROMEO With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls; For stony limits cannot hold love out, And what love can do that dares love attempt; Therefore thy kinsmen are no let to me. JULIET If they do see thee, they will murder thee. ROMEO Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye Than twenty of their swords: look thou but sweet, And I am proof against their enmity. JULIET I would not for the world they saw thee here. ROMEO I have night's cloak to hide me from their sight; And but thou love me, let them find me here: My life were better ended by their hate, Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love. JULIET By whose direction found'st thou out this place? ROMEO By love, who first did prompt me to inquire; He lent me counsel and I lent him eyes. I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far As that vast shore wash'd with the farthest sea, I would adventure for such merchandise. JULIET Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face, Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny What I have spoke: but farewell compliment! Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say 'Ay,' And I will take thy word: yet if thou swear'st, Thou mayst prove false; at lovers' perjuries Then say, Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo, If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully: Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won, I'll frown and be perverse an say thee nay, So thou wilt woo; but else, not for the world. In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond, And therefore thou mayst think my 'havior light: But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true Than those that have more cunning to be strange. I should have been more strange, I must confess, But that thou overheard'st, ere I was ware, My true love's passion: therefore pardon me, And not impute this yielding to light love, Which the dark night hath so discovered. ROMEO Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops-- JULIET O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon, That monthly changes in her circled orb, Lest that thy love prove likewise variable. ROMEO What shall I swear by? JULIET 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. ROMEO If my heart's dear love-- JULIET Well, do not swear: although I joy in thee, I have no joy of this contract to-night: It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden; Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be Ere one can say 'It lightens.' Sweet, good night! This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet. Good night, good night! as sweet repose and rest Come to thy heart as that within my breast! ROMEO O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied? JULIET What satisfaction canst thou have to-night? ROMEO The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine. JULIET I gave thee mine before thou didst request it: And yet I would it were to give again. ROMEO Wouldst thou withdraw it? for what purpose, love? JULIET But to be frank, and give it thee again. And yet I wish but for the thing I have: 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. [Nurse calls within] I hear some noise within; dear love, adieu! Anon, good nurse! Sweet Montague, be true. Stay but a little, I will come again. [Exit, above] ROMEO O blessed, blessed night! I am afeard. Being in night, all this is but a dream, Too flattering-sweet to be substantial. [Re-enter JULIET, above] JULIET Three words, dear Romeo, and good night indeed. 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. Nurse [Within] Madam! JULIET I come, anon.--But if thou mean'st not well, I do beseech thee-- Nurse [Within] Madam! JULIET By and by, I come:-- To cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief: To-morrow will I send. ROMEO So thrive my soul-- JULIET A thousand times good night! [Exit, above] ROMEO A thousand times the worse, to want thy light. Love goes toward love, as schoolboys from their books, But love from love, toward school with heavy looks. [Retiring] [Re-enter JULIET, above] JULIET Hist! Romeo, hist! O, for a falconer's voice, To lure this tassel-gentle back again! Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud; Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies, And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine, With repetition of my Romeo's name. ROMEO It is my soul that calls upon my name: How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night, Like softest music to attending ears! JULIET Romeo! ROMEO My dear? JULIET At what o'clock to-morrow Shall I send to thee? ROMEO At the hour of nine. JULIET I will not fail: 'tis twenty years till then. I have forgot why I did call thee back. ROMEO Let me stand here till thou remember it. JULIET I shall forget, to have thee still stand there, Remembering how I love thy company. ROMEO And I'll still stay, to have thee still forget, Forgetting any other home but this. JULIET 'Tis almost morning; I would have thee gone: And yet no further than a wanton's bird; Who lets it hop a little from her hand, Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves, And with a silk thread plucks it back again, So loving-jealous of his liberty. ROMEO I would I were thy bird. JULIET Sweet, so would I: Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing. Good night, good night! parting is such sweet sorrow, That I shall say good night till it be morrow. [Exit above] ROMEO Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast! Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest! Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell, His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell. [Exit] ROMEO AND JULIET ACT II SCENE III Friar Laurence's cell. [Enter FRIAR LAURENCE, with a basket] FRIAR LAURENCE The grey-eyed morn smiles on the frowning night, Chequering the eastern clouds with streaks of light, And flecked darkness like a drunkard reels From forth day's path and Titan's fiery wheels: Now, ere the sun advance his burning eye, The day to cheer and night's dank dew to dry, I must up-fill this osier cage of ours With baleful weeds and precious-juiced flowers. The earth that's nature's mother is her tomb; What is her burying grave that is her womb, And from her womb children of divers kind We sucking on her natural bosom find, Many for many virtues excellent, None but for some and yet all different. O, mickle is the powerful grace that lies In herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities: For nought so vile that on the earth doth live But to the earth some special good doth give, Nor aught so good but strain'd from that fair use Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse: Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied; And vice sometimes by action dignified. 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. [Enter ROMEO] ROMEO Good morrow, father. FRIAR LAURENCE Benedicite! What early tongue so sweet saluteth me? Young son, it argues a distemper'd head So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed: 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: Therefore thy earliness doth me assure Thou art up-roused by some distemperature; Or if not so, then here I hit it right, Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night. ROMEO That last is true; the sweeter rest was mine. FRIAR LAURENCE God pardon sin! wast thou with Rosaline? ROMEO With Rosaline, my ghostly father? no; I have forgot that name, and that name's woe. FRIAR LAURENCE That's my good son: but where hast thou been, then? ROMEO I'll tell thee, ere thou ask it me again. I have been feasting with mine enemy, Where on a sudden one hath wounded me, That's by me wounded: both our remedies Within thy help and holy physic lies: I bear no hatred, blessed man, for, lo, My intercession likewise steads my foe. FRIAR LAURENCE Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift; Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift. ROMEO Then plainly know my heart's dear love is set On the fair daughter of rich Capulet: As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine; And all combined, save what thou must combine By holy marriage: when and where and how We met, we woo'd and made exchange of vow, I'll tell thee as we pass; but this I pray, That thou consent to marry us to-day. FRIAR LAURENCE Holy Saint Francis, what a change is here! Is Rosaline, whom thou didst love so dear, So soon forsaken? young men's love then lies Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes. Jesu Maria, what a deal of brine Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline! How much salt water thrown away in waste, To season love, that of it doth not taste! The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears, Thy old groans ring yet in my ancient ears; Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit Of an old tear that is not wash'd off yet: If e'er thou wast thyself and these woes thine, Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline: And art thou changed? pronounce this sentence then, Women may fall, when there's no strength in men. ROMEO Thou chid'st me oft for loving Rosaline. FRIAR LAURENCE For doting, not for loving, pupil mine. ROMEO And bad'st me bury love. FRIAR LAURENCE Not in a grave, To lay one in, another out to have. ROMEO I pray thee, chide not; she whom I love now Doth grace for grace and love for love allow; The other did not so. FRIAR LAURENCE O, she knew well Thy love did read by rote and could not spell. But come, young waverer, come, go with me, In one respect I'll thy assistant be; For this alliance may so happy prove, To turn your households' rancour to pure love. ROMEO O, let us hence; I stand on sudden haste. FRIAR LAURENCE Wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast. [Exeunt] ROMEO AND JULIET ACT II SCENE IV A street. [Enter BENVOLIO and MERCUTIO] MERCUTIO Where the devil should this Romeo be? Came he not home to-night? BENVOLIO Not to his father's; I spoke with his man. MERCUTIO Ah, that same pale hard-hearted wench, that Rosaline. Torments him so, that he will sure run mad. BENVOLIO Tybalt, the kinsman of old Capulet, Hath sent a letter to his father's house. MERCUTIO A challenge, on my life. BENVOLIO Romeo will answer it. MERCUTIO Any man that can write may answer a letter. BENVOLIO Nay, he will answer the letter's master, how he dares, being dared. MERCUTIO Alas poor Romeo! he is already dead; stabbed with a white wench's black eye; shot through the ear with a love-song; the very pin of his heart cleft with the blind bow-boy's butt-shaft: and is he a man to encounter Tybalt? BENVOLIO Why, what is Tybalt? MERCUTIO More than prince of cats, I can tell you. O, he is the courageous captain of compliments. He fights as you sing prick-song, 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: ah, the immortal passado! the punto reverso! the hai! BENVOLIO The what? MERCUTIO The pox of such antic, lisping, affecting fantasticoes; these new tuners of accents! 'By Jesu, a very good blade! a very tall man! a very good whore!' Why, is not this a lamentable thing, grandsire, that we should be thus afflicted with these strange flies, these fashion-mongers, these perdona-mi's, who stand so much on the new form, that they cannot at ease on the old bench? O, their bones, their bones! [Enter ROMEO] BENVOLIO Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo. MERCUTIO Without his roe, like a dried herring: flesh, flesh, how art thou fishified! Now is he for the numbers that Petrarch flowed in: Laura to his lady was but a kitchen-wench; marry, she had a better love to be-rhyme her; Dido a dowdy; Cleopatra a gipsy; Helen and Hero hildings and harlots; Thisbe a grey eye or so, but not to the purpose. Signior Romeo, bon jour! there's a French salutation to your French slop. You gave us the counterfeit fairly last night. ROMEO Good morrow to you both. What counterfeit did I give you? MERCUTIO The ship, sir, the slip; can you not conceive? ROMEO Pardon, good Mercutio, my business was great; and in such a case as mine a man may strain courtesy. MERCUTIO That's as much as to say, such a case as yours constrains a man to bow in the hams. ROMEO Meaning, to court'sy. MERCUTIO Thou hast most kindly hit it. ROMEO A most courteous exposition. MERCUTIO Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy. ROMEO Pink for flower. MERCUTIO Right. ROMEO Why, then is my pump well flowered. MERCUTIO 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 sole singular. ROMEO O single-soled jest, solely singular for the singleness. MERCUTIO Come between us, good Benvolio; my wits faint. ROMEO Switch and spurs, switch and spurs; or I'll cry a match. MERCUTIO Nay, if thy wits run the wild-goose chase, I have done, for thou hast more of the wild-goose in one of thy wits than, I am sure, I have in my whole five: was I with you there for the goose? ROMEO Thou wast never with me for any thing when thou wast not there for the goose. MERCUTIO I will bite thee by the ear for that jest. ROMEO Nay, good goose, bite not. MERCUTIO Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting; it is a most sharp sauce. ROMEO And is it not well served in to a sweet goose? MERCUTIO O here's a wit of cheveril, that stretches from an inch narrow to an ell broad! ROMEO I stretch it out for that word 'broad;' which added to the goose, proves thee far and wide a broad goose. MERCUTIO Why, is not this better now than groaning for love? now art thou sociable, now art thou Romeo; now art thou what thou art, by art as well as by nature: for this drivelling love is like a great natural, that runs lolling up and down to hide his bauble in a hole. BENVOLIO Stop there, stop there. MERCUTIO Thou desirest me to stop in my tale against the hair. BENVOLIO Thou wouldst else have made thy tale large. MERCUTIO O, thou art deceived; 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. ROMEO Here's goodly gear! [Enter Nurse and PETER] MERCUTIO A sail, a sail! BENVOLIO Two, two; a shirt and a smock. Nurse Peter! PETER Anon! Nurse My fan, Peter. MERCUTIO Good Peter, to hide her face; for her fan's the fairer face. Nurse God ye good morrow, gentlemen. MERCUTIO God ye good den, fair gentlewoman. Nurse Is it good den? MERCUTIO 'Tis no less, I tell you, for the bawdy hand of the dial is now upon the prick of noon. Nurse Out upon you! what a man are you! ROMEO One, gentlewoman, that God hath made for himself to mar. Nurse By my troth, it is well said; 'for himself to mar,' quoth a'? Gentlemen, can any of you tell me where I may find the young Romeo? ROMEO I can tell you; but young Romeo will be older when you have found him than he was when you sought him: I am the youngest of that name, for fault of a worse. Nurse You say well. MERCUTIO Yea, is the worst well? very well took, i' faith; wisely, wisely. Nurse if you be he, sir, I desire some confidence with you. BENVOLIO She will indite him to some supper. MERCUTIO A bawd, a bawd, a bawd! so ho! ROMEO What hast thou found? MERCUTIO No hare, sir; unless a hare, sir, in a lenten pie, that is something stale and hoar ere it be spent. [Sings] An old hare hoar, And an old hare hoar, Is very good meat in lent But a hare that is hoar Is too much for a score, When it hoars ere it be spent. Romeo, will you come to your father's? we'll to dinner, thither. ROMEO I will follow you. MERCUTIO Farewell, ancient lady; farewell, [Singing] 'lady, lady, lady.' [Exeunt MERCUTIO and BENVOLIO] Nurse Marry, farewell! I pray you, sir, what saucy merchant was this, that was so full of his ropery? ROMEO A gentleman, nurse, that loves to hear himself talk, and will speak more in a minute than he will stand to in a month. Nurse An a' speak any thing against me, I'll take him down, an a' were lustier than he is, and twenty such Jacks; and if I cannot, I'll find those that shall. Scurvy knave! I am none of his flirt-gills; I am none of his skains-mates. And thou must stand by too, and suffer every knave to use me at his pleasure? PETER I saw no man use you a pleasure; if I had, my weapon should quickly have been out, I warrant you: I dare draw as soon as another man, if I see occasion in a good quarrel, and the law on my side. Nurse Now, afore God, I am so vexed, that every part about me quivers. Scurvy knave! Pray you, sir, a word: and as I told you, my young lady bade me inquire you out; what she bade me say, I will keep to myself: but first let me tell ye, if ye should lead her into a fool's paradise, as they say, it were a very gross kind of behavior, as they say: for the gentlewoman is young; and, therefore, if you should deal double with her, truly it were an ill thing to be offered to any gentlewoman, and very weak dealing. ROMEO Nurse, commend me to thy lady and mistress. I protest unto thee-- Nurse Good heart, and, i' faith, I will tell her as much: Lord, Lord, she will be a joyful woman. ROMEO What wilt thou tell her, nurse? thou dost not mark me. Nurse I will tell her, sir, that you do protest; which, as I take it, is a gentlemanlike offer. ROMEO Bid her devise Some means to come to shrift this afternoon; And there she shall at Friar Laurence' cell Be shrived and married. Here is for thy pains. Nurse No truly sir; not a penny. ROMEO Go to; I say you shall. Nurse This afternoon, sir? well, she shall be there. ROMEO And stay, good nurse, behind the abbey wall: Within this hour my man shall be with thee And bring thee cords made like a tackled stair; Which to the high top-gallant of my joy Must be my convoy in the secret night. Farewell; be trusty, and I'll quit thy pains: Farewell; commend me to thy mistress. Nurse Now God in heaven bless thee! Hark you, sir. ROMEO What say'st thou, my dear nurse? Nurse Is your man secret? Did you ne'er hear say, Two may keep counsel, putting one away? ROMEO I warrant thee, my man's as true as steel. NURSE Well, sir; my mistress is the sweetest lady--Lord, Lord! when 'twas a little prating thing:--O, there is a nobleman in town, one Paris, that would fain lay knife aboard; but she, good soul, had as lief see a toad, a very toad, as see him. 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. Doth not rosemary and Romeo begin both with a letter? ROMEO Ay, nurse; what of that? both with an R. Nurse Ah. mocker! that's the dog's name; R is for the--No; I know it begins with some other letter:--and she hath the prettiest sententious of it, of you and rosemary, that it would do you good to hear it. ROMEO Commend me to thy lady. Nurse Ay, a thousand times. [Exit Romeo] Peter! PETER Anon! Nurse Peter, take my fan, and go before and apace. [Exeunt] ROMEO AND JULIET ACT II SCENE V Capulet's orchard. [Enter JULIET] JULIET The clock struck nine when I did send the nurse; In half an hour she promised to return. Perchance she cannot meet him: that's not so. O, she is lame! love's heralds should be thoughts, Which ten times faster glide than the sun's beams, Driving back shadows over louring hills: Therefore do nimble-pinion'd doves draw love, And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings. Now is the sun upon the highmost hill Of this day's journey, and from nine till twelve Is three long hours, yet she is not come. Had she affections and warm youthful blood, She would be as swift in motion as a ball; My words would bandy her to my sweet love, And his to me: But old folks, many feign as they were dead; Unwieldy, slow, heavy and pale as lead. O God, she comes! [Enter Nurse and PETER] O honey nurse, what news? Hast thou met with him? Send thy man away. Nurse Peter, stay at the gate. [Exit PETER] JULIET Now, good sweet nurse,--O Lord, why look'st thou sad? Though news be sad, yet tell them merrily; If good, thou shamest the music of sweet news By playing it to me with so sour a face. Nurse I am a-weary, give me leave awhile: Fie, how my bones ache! what a jaunt have I had! JULIET I would thou hadst my bones, and I thy news: Nay, come, I pray thee, speak; good, good nurse, speak. Nurse Jesu, what haste? can you not stay awhile? Do you not see that I am out of breath? JULIET 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. Is thy news good, or bad? answer to that; Say either, and I'll stay the circumstance: Let me be satisfied, is't good or bad? Nurse Well, you have made a simple choice; you know not how to choose a man: Romeo! no, not he; though his face be better than any man's, yet his leg excels all men's; and for a hand, and a foot, and a body, though they be not to be talked on, yet they are past compare: he is not the flower of courtesy, but, I'll warrant him, as gentle as a lamb. Go thy ways, wench; serve God. What, have you dined at home? JULIET No, no: but all this did I know before. What says he of our marriage? what of that? Nurse Lord, how my head aches! what a head have I! It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces. My back o' t' other side,--O, my back, my back! Beshrew your heart for sending me about, To catch my death with jaunting up and down! JULIET I' faith, I am sorry that thou art not well. Sweet, sweet, sweet nurse, tell me, what says my love? Nurse Your love says, like an honest gentleman, and a courteous, and a kind, and a handsome, and, I warrant, a virtuous,--Where is your mother? JULIET Where is my mother! why, she is within; Where should she be? How oddly thou repliest! 'Your love says, like an honest gentleman, Where is your mother?' Nurse O God's lady dear! Are you so hot? marry, come up, I trow; Is this the poultice for my aching bones? Henceforward do your messages yourself. JULIET Here's such a coil! come, what says Romeo? Nurse Have you got leave to go to shrift to-day? JULIET I have. Nurse Then hie you hence to Friar Laurence' cell; There stays a husband to make you a wife: Now comes the wanton blood up in your cheeks, They'll be in scarlet straight at any news. Hie you to church; I must another way, To fetch a ladder, by the which your love Must climb a bird's nest soon when it is dark: I am the drudge and toil in your delight, But you shall bear the burden soon at night. Go; I'll to dinner: hie you to the cell. JULIET Hie to high fortune! Honest nurse, farewell. [Exeunt] ROMEO AND JULIET ACT II SCENE VI Friar Laurence's cell. [Enter FRIAR LAURENCE and ROMEO] FRIAR LAURENCE So smile the heavens upon this holy act, That after hours with sorrow chide us not! ROMEO Amen, amen! but come what sorrow can, It cannot countervail the exchange of joy That one short minute gives me in her sight: Do thou but close our hands with holy words, Then love-devouring death do what he dare; It is enough I may but call her mine. FRIAR LAURENCE 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: Therefore love moderately; long love doth so; Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow. [Enter JULIET] Here comes the lady: O, so light a foot Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint: A lover may bestride the gossamer That idles in the wanton summer air, And yet not fall; so light is vanity. JULIET Good even to my ghostly confessor. FRIAR LAURENCE Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, for us both. JULIET As much to him, else is his thanks too much. ROMEO 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 imagined happiness that both Receive in either by this dear encounter. JULIET Conceit, more rich in matter than in words, Brags of his substance, not of ornament: They are but beggars that can count their worth; But my true love is grown to such excess I cannot sum up sum of half my wealth. FRIAR LAURENCE Come, come with me, and we will make short work; For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone Till holy church incorporate two in one. [Exeunt] ROMEO AND JULIET ACT III SCENE I A public place. [Enter MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, Page, and Servants] BENVOLIO I pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire: The day is hot, the Capulets abroad, And, if we meet, we shall not scape a brawl; For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring. MERCUTIO Thou art like one of those 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 it on the drawer, when indeed there is no need. BENVOLIO Am I like such a fellow? MERCUTIO Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy mood as any in Italy, and as soon moved to be moody, and as soon moody to be moved. BENVOLIO And what to? MERCUTIO Nay, an there were two such, we should have none shortly, for one would kill the other. Thou! why, thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath a hair more, or a hair less, in his beard, than thou hast: thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no other reason but because thou hast hazel eyes: what eye but such an eye would spy out such a quarrel? Thy head is as fun of quarrels as an egg is full of meat, and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as an egg for quarrelling: thou hast quarrelled with a man for coughing in the street, because he hath wakened thy dog that hath lain asleep in the sun: didst thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing his new doublet before Easter? with another, for tying his new shoes with old riband? and yet thou wilt tutor me from quarrelling! BENVOLIO 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. MERCUTIO The fee-simple! O simple! BENVOLIO By my head, here come the Capulets. MERCUTIO By my heel, I care not. [Enter TYBALT and others] TYBALT Follow me close, for I will speak to them. Gentlemen, good den: a word with one of you. MERCUTIO And but one word with one of us? couple it with something; make it a word and a blow. TYBALT You shall find me apt enough to that, sir, an you will give me occasion. MERCUTIO Could you not take some occasion without giving? TYBALT Mercutio, thou consort'st with Romeo,-- MERCUTIO Consort! what, dost thou make us minstrels? an thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but discords: here's my fiddlestick; here's that shall make you dance. 'Zounds, consort! BENVOLIO We talk here in the public haunt of men: Either withdraw unto some private place, And reason coldly of your grievances, Or else depart; here all eyes gaze on us. MERCUTIO Men's eyes were made to look, and let them gaze; I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I. [Enter ROMEO] TYBALT Well, peace be with you, sir: here comes my man. MERCUTIO But I'll be hanged, sir, if he wear your livery: Marry, go before to field, he'll be your follower; Your worship in that sense may call him 'man.' TYBALT Romeo, the hate I bear thee can afford No better term than this,--thou art a villain. ROMEO Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee Doth much excuse the appertaining rage To such a greeting: villain am I none; Therefore farewell; I see thou know'st me not. TYBALT Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries That thou hast done me; therefore turn and draw. ROMEO I do protest, I never injured thee, But love thee better than thou canst devise, Till thou shalt know the reason of my love: And so, good Capulet,--which name I tender As dearly as my own,--be satisfied. MERCUTIO O calm, dishonourable, vile submission! Alla stoccata carries it away. [Draws] Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk? TYBALT What wouldst thou have with me? MERCUTIO Good king of cats, nothing but one of your nine lives; that I mean to make bold withal, and as you shall use me hereafter, drybeat the rest of the eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his pitcher by the ears? make haste, lest mine be about your ears ere it be out. TYBALT I am for you. [Drawing] ROMEO Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up. MERCUTIO Come, sir, your passado. [They fight] ROMEO Draw, Benvolio; beat down their weapons. Gentlemen, for shame, forbear this outrage! Tybalt, Mercutio, the prince expressly hath Forbidden bandying in Verona streets: Hold, Tybalt! good Mercutio! [TYBALT under ROMEO's arm stabs MERCUTIO, and flies with his followers] MERCUTIO I am hurt. A plague o' both your houses! I am sped. Is he gone, and hath nothing? BENVOLIO What, art thou hurt? MERCUTIO Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch; marry, 'tis enough. Where is my page? Go, villain, fetch a surgeon. [Exit Page] ROMEO Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much. MERCUTIO No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church-door; but 'tis enough,'twill serve: ask for me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave man. I am peppered, I warrant, for this world. A plague o' both your houses! 'Zounds, a dog, a rat, a mouse, a cat, to scratch a man to death! a braggart, a rogue, a villain, that fights by the book of arithmetic! Why the devil came you between us? I was hurt under your arm. ROMEO I thought all for the best. MERCUTIO Help me into some house, Benvolio, Or I shall faint. A plague o' both your houses! They have made worms' meat of me: I have it, And soundly too: your houses! [Exeunt MERCUTIO and BENVOLIO] ROMEO This gentleman, the prince's near ally, My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt In my behalf; my reputation stain'd With Tybalt's slander,--Tybalt, that an hour Hath been my kinsman! O sweet Juliet, Thy beauty hath made me effeminate And in my temper soften'd valour's steel! [Re-enter BENVOLIO] BENVOLIO O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead! That gallant spirit hath aspired the clouds, Which too untimely here did scorn the earth. ROMEO This day's black fate on more days doth depend; This but begins the woe, others must end. BENVOLIO Here comes the furious Tybalt back again. ROMEO Alive, in triumph! and Mercutio slain! Away to heaven, respective lenity, And fire-eyed fury be my conduct now! [Re-enter TYBALT] Now, Tybalt, take the villain back again, That late thou gavest me; for Mercutio's soul Is but a little way above our heads, Staying for thine to keep him company: Either thou, or I, or both, must go with him. TYBALT Thou, wretched boy, that didst consort him here, Shalt with him hence. ROMEO This shall determine that. [They fight; TYBALT falls] BENVOLIO Romeo, away, be gone! The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain. Stand not amazed: the prince will doom thee death, If thou art taken: hence, be gone, away! ROMEO O, I am fortune's fool! BENVOLIO Why dost thou stay? [Exit ROMEO] [Enter Citizens, &c] First Citizen Which way ran he that kill'd Mercutio? Tybalt, that murderer, which way ran he? BENVOLIO There lies that Tybalt. First Citizen Up, sir, go with me; I charge thee in the princes name, obey. [Enter Prince, attended; MONTAGUE, CAPULET, their Wives, and others] PRINCE Where are the vile beginners of this fray? BENVOLIO O noble prince, I can discover all The unlucky manage of this fatal brawl: There lies the man, slain by young Romeo, That slew thy kinsman, brave Mercutio. LADY CAPULET Tybalt, my cousin! O my brother's child! O prince! O cousin! husband! O, the blood is spilt O my dear kinsman! Prince, as thou art true, For blood of ours, shed blood of Montague. O cousin, cousin! PRINCE Benvolio, who began this bloody fray? BENVOLIO Tybalt, here slain, whom Romeo's hand did slay; Romeo that spoke him fair, bade him bethink How nice the quarrel was, and urged withal Your high displeasure: all this uttered With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly bow'd, Could not take truce with the unruly spleen Of Tybalt deaf to peace, but that he tilts With piercing steel at bold Mercutio's breast, Who all as hot, turns deadly point to point, And, with a martial scorn, with one hand beats Cold death aside, and with the other sends It back to Tybalt, whose dexterity, Retorts it: Romeo he cries aloud, 'Hold, friends! friends, part!' and, swifter than his tongue, His agile arm beats down their fatal points, And 'twixt them rushes; underneath whose arm An envious thrust from Tybalt hit the life Of stout Mercutio, and then Tybalt fled; But by and by comes back to Romeo, Who had but newly entertain'd revenge, And to 't they go like lightning, for, ere I Could draw to part them, was stout Tybalt slain. And, as he fell, did Romeo turn and fly. This is the truth, or let Benvolio die. LADY CAPULET He is a kinsman to the Montague; Affection makes him false; he speaks not true: Some twenty of them fought in this black strife, And all those twenty could but kill one life. I beg for justice, which thou, prince, must give; Romeo slew Tybalt, Romeo must not live. PRINCE Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio; Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe? MONTAGUE Not Romeo, prince, he was Mercutio's friend; His fault concludes but what the law should end, The life of Tybalt. PRINCE And for that offence Immediately we do exile him hence: 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: I will be deaf to pleading and excuses; Nor tears nor prayers shall purchase out abuses: Therefore use none: let Romeo hence in haste, Else, when he's found, that hour is his last. Bear hence this body and attend our will: Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill. [Exeunt] ROMEO AND JULIET ACT III SCENE II Capulet's orchard. [Enter JULIET] JULIET Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds, Towards Phoebus' lodging: such a wagoner As Phaethon would whip you to the west, And bring in cloudy night immediately. Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night, That runaway's eyes may wink and Romeo Leap to these arms, untalk'd of and unseen. Lovers can see to do their amorous rites By their own beauties; or, if love be blind, It best agrees with night. Come, civil night, Thou sober-suited matron, all in black, And learn me how to lose a winning match, Play'd for a pair of stainless maidenhoods: Hood my unmann'd blood, bating in my cheeks, With thy black mantle; till strange love, grown bold, Think true love acted simple modesty. Come, night; come, Romeo; come, thou day in night; For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night Whiter than new snow on a raven's back. 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. O, I have bought the mansion of a love, But not possess'd it, and, though I am sold, Not yet enjoy'd: 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. O, here comes my nurse, And she brings news; and every tongue that speaks But Romeo's name speaks heavenly eloquence. [Enter Nurse, with cords] Now, nurse, what news? What hast thou there? the cords That Romeo bid thee fetch? Nurse Ay, ay, the cords. [Throws them down] JULIET Ay me! what news? why dost thou wring thy hands? Nurse Ah, well-a-day! he's dead, he's dead, he's dead! We are undone, lady, we are undone! Alack the day! he's gone, he's kill'd, he's dead! JULIET Can heaven be so envious? Nurse Romeo can, Though heaven cannot: O Romeo, Romeo! Who ever would have thought it? Romeo! JULIET What devil art thou, that dost torment me thus? This torture should be roar'd in dismal hell. Hath Romeo slain himself? say thou but 'I,' And that bare vowel 'I' shall poison more Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice: I am not I, if there be such an I; Or those eyes shut, that make thee answer 'I.' If he be slain, say 'I'; or if not, no: Brief sounds determine of my weal or woe. Nurse I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes,-- God save the mark!--here on his manly breast: A piteous corse, a bloody piteous corse; Pale, pale as ashes, all bedaub'd in blood, All in gore-blood; I swounded at the sight. JULIET O, break, my heart! poor bankrupt, break at once! To prison, eyes, ne'er look on liberty! Vile earth, to earth resign; end motion here; And thou and Romeo press one heavy bier! Nurse O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had! O courteous Tybalt! honest gentleman! That ever I should live to see thee dead! JULIET What storm is this that blows so contrary? Is Romeo slaughter'd, and is Tybalt dead? My dear-loved cousin, and my dearer lord? Then, dreadful trumpet, sound the general doom! For who is living, if those two are gone? Nurse Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished; Romeo that kill'd him, he is banished. JULIET O God! did Romeo's hand shed Tybalt's blood? Nurse It did, it did; alas the day, it did! JULIET O serpent heart, hid with a flowering face! Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave? Beautiful tyrant! fiend angelical! Dove-feather'd raven! wolvish-ravening lamb! Despised substance of divinest show! Just opposite to what thou justly seem'st, A damned saint, an honourable villain! O nature, what hadst thou to do in hell, When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend In moral paradise of such sweet flesh? Was ever book containing such vile matter So fairly bound? O that deceit should dwell In such a gorgeous palace! Nurse There's no trust, No faith, no honesty in men; all perjured, All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers. Ah, where's my man? give me some aqua vitae: These griefs, these woes, these sorrows make me old. Shame come to Romeo! JULIET Blister'd be thy tongue For such a wish! he was not born to shame: Upon his brow shame is ashamed to sit; For 'tis a throne where honour may be crown'd Sole monarch of the universal earth. O, what a beast was I to chide at him! Nurse Will you speak well of him that kill'd your cousin? JULIET Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband? Ah, poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name, When I, thy three-hours wife, have mangled it? But, wherefore, villain, didst thou kill my cousin? That villain cousin would have kill'd my husband: Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring; Your tributary drops belong to woe, Which you, mistaking, offer up to joy. My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain; And Tybalt's dead, that would have slain my husband: All this is comfort; wherefore weep I then? Some word there was, worser than Tybalt's death, That murder'd me: I would forget it fain; But, O, it presses to my memory, Like damned guilty deeds to sinners' minds: 'Tybalt is dead, and Romeo--banished;' That 'banished,' that one word 'banished,' Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts. Tybalt's death Was woe enough, if it had ended there: Or, if sour woe delights in fellowship And needly will be rank'd with other griefs, Why follow'd not, when she said 'Tybalt's dead,' Thy father, or thy mother, nay, or both, Which modern lamentations might have moved? But with a rear-ward following Tybalt's death, 'Romeo is banished,' to speak that word, Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet, All slain, all dead. 'Romeo is banished!' There is no end, no limit, measure, bound, In that word's death; no words can that woe sound. Where is my father, and my mother, nurse? Nurse Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's corse: Will you go to them? I will bring you thither. JULIET Wash they his wounds with tears: mine shall be spent, When theirs are dry, for Romeo's banishment. Take up those cords: poor ropes, you are beguiled, Both you and I; for Romeo is exiled: He made you for a highway to my bed; But I, a maid, die maiden-widowed. Come, cords, come, nurse; I'll to my wedding-bed; And death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead! Nurse Hie to your chamber: I'll find Romeo To comfort you: I wot well where he is. Hark ye, your Romeo will be here at night: I'll to him; he is hid at Laurence' cell. JULIET O, find him! give this ring to my true knight, And bid him come to take his last farewell. [Exeunt] ROMEO AND JULIET ACT III SCENE III Friar Laurence's cell. [Enter FRIAR LAURENCE] FRIAR LAURENCE Romeo, come forth; come forth, thou fearful man: Affliction is enamour'd of thy parts, And thou art wedded to calamity. [Enter ROMEO] ROMEO Father, what news? what is the prince's doom? What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand, That I yet know not? FRIAR LAURENCE Too familiar Is my dear son with such sour company: I bring thee tidings of the prince's doom. ROMEO What less than dooms-day is the prince's doom? FRIAR LAURENCE A gentler judgment vanish'd from his lips, Not body's death, but body's banishment. ROMEO Ha, banishment! be merciful, say 'death;' For exile hath more terror in his look, Much more than death: do not say 'banishment.' FRIAR LAURENCE Hence from Verona art thou banished: Be patient, for the world is broad and wide. ROMEO There is no world without Verona walls, But purgatory, torture, hell itself. Hence-banished is banish'd from the world, And world's exile is death: then banished, Is death mis-term'd: calling death banishment, Thou cutt'st my head off with a golden axe, And smilest upon the stroke that murders me. FRIAR LAURENCE O deadly sin! O rude unthankfulness! Thy fault our law calls death; but the kind prince, Taking thy part, hath rush'd aside the law, And turn'd that black word death to banishment: This is dear mercy, and thou seest it not. ROMEO 'Tis torture, and not mercy: heaven is here, Where Juliet lives; and every cat and dog And little mouse, every unworthy thing, Live here in heaven and may look on her; But Romeo may not: more validity, More honourable state, more courtship lives In carrion-flies than Romeo: they my seize On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand And steal immortal blessing from her lips, Who even in pure and vestal modesty, Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin; But Romeo may not; he is banished: Flies may do this, but I from this must fly: They are free men, but I am banished. And say'st thou yet that exile is not death? Hadst thou no poison mix'd, no sharp-ground knife, No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean, But 'banished' to kill me?--'banished'? O friar, the damned use that word in hell; Howlings attend it: how hast thou the heart, Being a divine, a ghostly confessor, A sin-absolver, and my friend profess'd, To mangle me with that word 'banished'? FRIAR LAURENCE Thou fond mad man, hear me but speak a word. ROMEO O, thou wilt speak again of banishment. FRIAR LAURENCE I'll give thee armour to keep off that word: Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy, To comfort thee, though thou art banished. ROMEO Yet 'banished'? Hang up philosophy! Unless philosophy can make a Juliet, Displant a town, reverse a prince's doom, It helps not, it prevails not: talk no more. FRIAR LAURENCE O, then I see that madmen have no ears. ROMEO How should they, when that wise men have no eyes? FRIAR LAURENCE Let me dispute with thee of thy estate. ROMEO Thou canst not speak of that thou dost not feel: 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. [Knocking within] FRIAR LAURENCE Arise; one knocks; good Romeo, hide thyself. ROMEO Not I; unless the breath of heartsick groans, Mist-like, infold me from the search of eyes. [Knocking] FRIAR LAURENCE Hark, how they knock! Who's there? Romeo, arise; Thou wilt be taken. Stay awhile! Stand up; [Knocking] Run to my study. By and by! God's will, What simpleness is this! I come, I come! [Knocking] Who knocks so hard? whence come you? what's your will? Nurse [Within] Let me come in, and you shall know my errand; I come from Lady Juliet. FRIAR LAURENCE Welcome, then. [Enter Nurse] Nurse O holy friar, O, tell me, holy friar, Where is my lady's lord, where's Romeo? FRIAR LAURENCE There on the ground, with his own tears made drunk. Nurse O, he is even in my mistress' case, Just in her case! O woful sympathy! Piteous predicament! Even so lies she, Blubbering and weeping, weeping and blubbering. Stand up, stand up; stand, and you be a man: For Juliet's sake, for her sake, rise and stand; Why should you fall into so deep an O? ROMEO Nurse! Nurse Ah sir! ah sir! Well, death's the end of all. ROMEO Spakest thou of Juliet? how is it with her? Doth she not think me an old murderer, Now I have stain'd the childhood of our joy With blood removed but little from her own? Where is she? and how doth she? and what says My conceal'd lady to our cancell'd love? Nurse 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. ROMEO As if that name, Shot from the deadly level of a gun, Did murder her; as that name's cursed hand Murder'd her kinsman. 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. [Drawing his sword] FRIAR LAURENCE Hold thy desperate hand: Art thou a man? thy form cries out thou art: Thy tears are womanish; thy wild acts denote The unreasonable fury of a beast: Unseemly woman in a seeming man! Or ill-beseeming beast in seeming both! Thou hast amazed me: by my holy order, I thought thy disposition better temper'd. Hast thou slain Tybalt? wilt thou slay thyself? And stay thy lady too that lives in thee, By doing damned hate upon thyself? Why rail'st 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. Fie, fie, thou shamest thy shape, thy love, thy wit; Which, like a usurer, abound'st in all, And usest none in that true use indeed Which should bedeck thy shape, thy love, thy wit: Thy noble shape is but a form of wax, Digressing from the valour of a man; Thy dear love sworn but hollow perjury, Killing that love which thou hast vow'd to cherish; Thy wit, that ornament to shape and love, Misshapen in the conduct of them both, Like powder in a skitless soldier's flask, Is set afire by thine own ignorance, And thou dismember'd with thine own defence. What, rouse thee, man! thy Juliet is alive, For whose dear sake thou wast but lately dead; There art thou happy: Tybalt would kill thee, But thou slew'st Tybalt; there are thou happy too: The law that threaten'd death becomes thy friend And turns it to exile; there art thou happy: A pack of blessings lights up upon thy back; Happiness courts thee in her best array; But, like a misbehaved and sullen wench, Thou pout'st upon thy fortune and thy love: Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable. Go, get thee to thy love, as was decreed, Ascend her chamber, hence and comfort her: But look thou stay not till the watch be set, For then thou canst not pass to Mantua; Where thou shalt live, till we can find a time To blaze your marriage, reconcile your friends, Beg pardon of the prince, and call thee back With twenty hundred thousand times more joy Than thou went'st forth in lamentation. Go before, nurse: commend me to thy lady; And bid her hasten all the house to bed, Which heavy sorrow makes them apt unto: Romeo is coming. Nurse O Lord, I could have stay'd here all the night To hear good counsel: O, what learning is! My lord, I'll tell my lady you will come. ROMEO Do so, and bid my sweet prepare to chide. Nurse Here, sir, a ring she bid me give you, sir: Hie you, make haste, for it grows very late. [Exit] ROMEO How well my comfort is revived by this! FRIAR LAURENCE Go hence; good night; and here stands all your state: Either be gone before the watch be set, Or by the break of day disguised from hence: Sojourn in Mantua; I'll find out your man, And he shall signify from time to time Every good hap to you that chances here: Give me thy hand; 'tis late: farewell; good night. ROMEO But that a joy past joy calls out on me, It were a grief, so brief to part with thee: Farewell. [Exeunt] ROMEO AND JULIET ACT III SCENE IV A room in Capulet's house. [Enter CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, and PARIS] CAPULET Things have fall'n out, sir, so unluckily, That we have had no time to move our daughter: Look you, she loved her kinsman Tybalt dearly, And so did I:--Well, we were born to die. 'Tis very late, she'll not come down to-night: I promise you, but for your company, I would have been a-bed an hour ago. PARIS These times of woe afford no time to woo. Madam, good night: commend me to your daughter. LADY CAPULET I will, and know her mind early to-morrow; To-night she is mew'd up to her heaviness. CAPULET Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender Of my child's love: I think she will be ruled In all respects by me; nay, more, I doubt it not. Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed; Acquaint her here of my son Paris' love; And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday next-- But, soft! what day is this? PARIS Monday, my lord, CAPULET Monday! ha, ha! Well, Wednesday is too soon, O' Thursday let it be: o' Thursday, tell her, She shall be married to this noble earl. Will you be ready? do you like this haste? We'll keep no great ado,--a friend or two; For, hark you, Tybalt being slain so late, It may be thought we held him carelessly, Being our kinsman, if we revel much: Therefore we'll have some half a dozen friends, And there an end. But what say you to Thursday? PARIS My lord, I would that Thursday were to-morrow. CAPULET Well get you gone: o' Thursday be it, then. Go you to Juliet ere you go to bed, Prepare her, wife, against this wedding-day. Farewell, my lord. Light to my chamber, ho! Afore me! it is so very very late, That we may call it early by and by. Good night. [Exeunt] ROMEO AND JULIET ACT III SCENE V Capulet's orchard. [Enter ROMEO and JULIET above, at the window] JULIET Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day: It was the nightingale, and not the lark, That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear; Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate-tree: Believe me, love, it was the nightingale. ROMEO It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east: Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops. I must be gone and live, or stay and die. JULIET Yon light is not day-light, I know it, I: It is some meteor that the sun exhales, To be to thee this night a torch-bearer, And light thee on thy way to Mantua: Therefore stay yet; thou need'st not to be gone. ROMEO Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death; I am content, so thou wilt have it so. 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: I have more care to stay than will to go: Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so. How is't, my soul? let's talk; it is not day. JULIET It is, it is: hie hence, be gone, away! It is the lark that sings so out of tune, Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps. Some say the lark makes sweet division; This doth not so, for she divideth us: Some say the lark and loathed toad change eyes, O, now I would they had changed voices too! Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray, Hunting thee hence with hunt's-up to the day, O, now be gone; more light and light it grows. ROMEO More light and light; more dark and dark our woes! [Enter Nurse, to the chamber] Nurse Madam! JULIET Nurse? Nurse Your lady mother is coming to your chamber: The day is broke; be wary, look about. [Exit] JULIET Then, window, let day in, and let life out. ROMEO Farewell, farewell! one kiss, and I'll descend. [He goeth down] JULIET Art thou gone so? love, lord, ay, husband, friend! I must hear from thee every day in the hour, For in a minute there are many days: O, by this count I shall be much in years Ere I again behold my Romeo! ROMEO Farewell! I will omit no opportunity That may convey my greetings, love, to thee. JULIET O think'st thou we shall ever meet again? ROMEO I doubt it not; and all these woes shall serve For sweet discourses in our time to come. JULIET 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: Either my eyesight fails, or thou look'st pale. ROMEO And trust me, love, in my eye so do you: Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu, adieu! [Exit] JULIET O fortune, fortune! all men call thee fickle: If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him. That is renown'd for faith? Be fickle, fortune; For then, I hope, thou wilt not keep him long, But send him back. LADY CAPULET [Within] Ho, daughter! are you up? JULIET Who is't that calls? is it my lady mother? Is she not down so late, or up so early? What unaccustom'd cause procures her hither? [Enter LADY CAPULET] LADY CAPULET Why, how now, Juliet! JULIET Madam, I am not well. LADY CAPULET Evermore weeping for your cousin's death? What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears? An if thou couldst, thou couldst not make him live; Therefore, have done: some grief shows much of love; But much of grief shows still some want of wit. JULIET Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss. LADY CAPULET So shall you feel the loss, but not the friend Which you weep for. JULIET Feeling so the loss, Cannot choose but ever weep the friend. LADY CAPULET Well, girl, thou weep'st not so much for his death, As that the villain lives which slaughter'd him. JULIET What villain madam? LADY CAPULET That same villain, Romeo. JULIET [Aside] Villain and he be many miles asunder.-- God Pardon him! I do, with all my heart; And yet no man like he doth grieve my heart. LADY CAPULET That is, because the traitor murderer lives. JULIET Ay, madam, from the reach of these my hands: Would none but I might venge my cousin's death! LADY CAPULET We will have vengeance for it, fear thou not: Then weep no more. 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. JULIET Indeed, I never shall be satisfied With Romeo, till I behold him--dead-- Is my poor heart for a kinsman vex'd. Madam, if you could find out but a man To bear a poison, I would temper it; That Romeo should, upon receipt thereof, Soon sleep in quiet. O, how my heart abhors To hear him named, and cannot come to him. To wreak the love I bore my cousin Upon his body that slaughter'd him! LADY CAPULET Find thou the means, and I'll find such a man. But now I'll tell thee joyful tidings, girl. JULIET And joy comes well in such a needy time: What are they, I beseech your ladyship? LADY CAPULET Well, well, thou hast a careful father, child; One who, to put thee from thy heaviness, Hath sorted out a sudden day of joy, That thou expect'st not nor I look'd not for. JULIET Madam, in happy time, what day is that? LADY CAPULET 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. JULIET Now, by Saint Peter's Church and Peter too, He shall not make me there a joyful bride. I wonder at this haste; that I must wed Ere he, that should be husband, comes to woo. 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. These are news indeed! LADY CAPULET Here comes your father; tell him so yourself, And see how he will take it at your hands. [Enter CAPULET and Nurse] CAPULET When the sun sets, the air doth drizzle dew; But for the sunset of my brother's son It rains downright. How now! a conduit, girl? what, still in tears? Evermore showering? In one little body Thou counterfeit'st a bark, a sea, a wind; For still thy eyes, which I may call the sea, Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy body is, Sailing in this salt flood; the winds, thy sighs; Who, raging with thy tears, and they with them, Without a sudden calm, will overset Thy tempest-tossed body. How now, wife! Have you deliver'd to her our decree? LADY CAPULET Ay, sir; but she will none, she gives you thanks. I would the fool were married to her grave! CAPULET Soft! take me with you, take me with you, wife. How! will she none? doth she not give us thanks? Is she not proud? doth she not count her blest, Unworthy as she is, that we have wrought So worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroom? JULIET Not proud, you have; but thankful, that you have: Proud can I never be of what I hate; But thankful even for hate, that is meant love. CAPULET How now, how now, chop-logic! 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. Out, you green-sickness carrion! out, you baggage! You tallow-face! LADY CAPULET Fie, fie! what, are you mad? JULIET Good father, I beseech you on my knees, Hear me with patience but to speak a word. CAPULET Hang thee, young baggage! disobedient wretch! I tell thee what: get thee to church o' Thursday, Or never after look me in the face: Speak not, reply not, do not answer me; My fingers itch. Wife, we scarce thought us blest That God had lent us but this only child; But now I see this one is one too much, And that we have a curse in having her: Out on her, hilding! Nurse God in heaven bless her! You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so. CAPULET And why, my lady wisdom? hold your tongue, Good prudence; smatter with your gossips, go. Nurse I speak no treason. CAPULET O, God ye god-den. Nurse May not one speak? CAPULET Peace, you mumbling fool! Utter your gravity o'er a gossip's bowl; For here we need it not. LADY CAPULET You are too hot. CAPULET God's bread! it makes me mad: Day, night, hour, tide, time, work, play, Alone, in company, still my care hath been To have her match'd: and having now provided A gentleman of noble parentage, Of fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly train'd, Stuff'd, as they say, with honourable parts, Proportion'd as one's thought would wish a man; And then to have a wretched puling fool, A whining mammet, in her fortune's tender, To answer 'I'll not wed; I cannot love, I am too young; I pray you, pardon me.' But, as you will not wed, I'll pardon you: Graze where you will you shall not house with me: Look to't, think on't, I do not use to jest. Thursday is near; lay hand on heart, advise: An you be mine, I'll give you to my friend; And 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: Trust to't, bethink you; I'll not be forsworn. [Exit] JULIET Is there no pity sitting in the clouds, That sees into the bottom of my grief? O, sweet my mother, cast me not away! Delay this marriage for a month, a week; Or, if you do not, make the bridal bed In that dim monument where Tybalt lies. LADY CAPULET Talk not to me, for I'll not speak a word: Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee. [Exit] JULIET O God!--O nurse, how shall this be prevented? My husband is on earth, my faith in heaven; How shall that faith return again to earth, Unless that husband send it me from heaven By leaving earth? comfort me, counsel me. Alack, alack, that heaven should practise stratagems Upon so soft a subject as myself! What say'st thou? hast thou not a word of joy? Some comfort, nurse. Nurse Faith, here it is. Romeo is banish'd; and all the world to nothing, That he dares ne'er come back to challenge you; Or, if he do, it needs must be by stealth. Then, since the case so stands as now it doth, I think it best you married with the county. O, he's a lovely gentleman! Romeo's a dishclout to him: an eagle, madam, Hath not so green, so quick, so fair an eye As Paris hath. Beshrew my very heart, I think you are happy in this second match, For it excels your first: or if it did not, Your first is dead; or 'twere as good he were, As living here and you no use of him. JULIET Speakest thou from thy heart? Nurse And from my soul too; Or else beshrew them both. JULIET Amen! Nurse What? JULIET Well, thou hast comforted me marvellous much. Go in: and tell my lady I am gone, Having displeased my father, to Laurence' cell, To make confession and to be absolved. Nurse Marry, I will; and this is wisely done. [Exit] JULIET Ancient damnation! O most wicked fiend! Is it more sin to wish me thus forsworn, Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue Which she hath praised him with above compare So many thousand times? Go, counsellor; Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twain. I'll to the friar, to know his remedy: If all else fail, myself have power to die. [Exit] ROMEO AND JULIET ACT IV SCENE I Friar Laurence's cell. [Enter FRIAR LAURENCE and PARIS] FRIAR LAURENCE On Thursday, sir? the time is very short. PARIS My father Capulet will have it so; And I am nothing slow to slack his haste. FRIAR LAURENCE You say you do not know the lady's mind: Uneven is the course, I like it not. PARIS Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death, And therefore have I little talk'd of love; For Venus smiles not in a house of tears. Now, sir, her father counts it dangerous That she doth give her sorrow so much sway, And in his wisdom hastes our marriage, To stop the inundation of her tears; Which, too much minded by herself alone, May be put from her by society: Now do you know the reason of this haste. FRIAR LAURENCE [Aside] I would I knew not why it should be slow'd. Look, sir, here comes the lady towards my cell. [Enter JULIET] PARIS Happily met, my lady and my wife! JULIET That may be, sir, when I may be a wife. PARIS That may be must be, love, on Thursday next. JULIET What must be shall be. FRIAR LAURENCE That's a certain text. PARIS Come you to make confession to this father? JULIET To answer that, I should confess to you. PARIS Do not deny to him that you love me. JULIET I will confess to you that I love him. PARIS So will ye, I am sure, that you love me. JULIET If I do so, it will be of more price, Being spoke behind your back, than to your face. PARIS Poor soul, thy face is much abused with tears. JULIET The tears have got small victory by that; For it was bad enough before their spite. PARIS Thou wrong'st it, more than tears, with that report. JULIET That is no slander, sir, which is a truth; And what I spake, I spake it to my face. PARIS Thy face is mine, and thou hast slander'd it. JULIET It may be so, for it is not mine own. Are you at leisure, holy father, now; Or shall I come to you at evening mass? FRIAR LAURENCE My leisure serves me, pensive daughter, now. My lord, we must entreat the time alone. PARIS God shield I should disturb devotion! Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse ye: Till then, adieu; and keep this holy kiss. [Exit] JULIET O shut the door! and when thou hast done so, Come weep with me; past hope, past cure, past help! FRIAR LAURENCE Ah, Juliet, I already know thy grief; It strains me past the compass of my wits: I hear thou must, and nothing may prorogue it, On Thursday next be married to this county. JULIET Tell me not, friar, that thou hear'st of this, Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it: If, in thy wisdom, thou canst give no help, Do thou but call my resolution wise, And with this knife I'll help it presently. God join'd my heart and Romeo's, thou our hands; And ere this hand, by thee to Romeo seal'd, Shall be the label to another deed, Or my true heart with treacherous revolt Turn to another, this shall slay them both: Therefore, out of thy long-experienced time, Give me some present counsel, or, behold, 'Twixt my extremes and me this bloody knife Shall play the umpire, arbitrating that Which the commission of thy years and art Could to no issue of true honour bring. Be not so long to speak; I long to die, If what thou speak'st speak not of remedy. FRIAR LAURENCE Hold, daughter: I do spy a kind of hope, Which craves as desperate an execution. As that is desperate which we would prevent. 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 copest with death himself to scape from it: And, if thou darest, I'll give thee remedy. JULIET O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris, From off the battlements of yonder tower; Or walk in thievish ways; or bid me lurk Where serpents are; chain me with roaring bears; Or shut me nightly in a charnel-house, O'er-cover'd quite with dead men's rattling bones, With reeky shanks and yellow chapless skulls; Or bid me go into a new-made grave And hide me with a dead man in his shroud; Things that, to hear them told, have made me tremble; And I will do it without fear or doubt, To live an unstain'd wife to my sweet love. FRIAR LAURENCE Hold, then; go home, be merry, give consent To marry Paris: Wednesday is to-morrow: To-morrow night look that thou lie alone; Let not thy 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, deprived of supple government, Shall, stiff and stark and cold, appear like death: And in this borrow'd 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 uncover'd 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. JULIET Give me, give me! O, tell not me of fear! FRIAR LAURENCE Hold; get you gone, be strong and prosperous In this resolve: I'll send a friar with speed To Mantua, with my letters to thy lord. JULIET Love give me strength! and strength shall help afford. Farewell, dear father! [Exeunt] ROMEO AND JULIET ACT IV SCENE II Hall in Capulet's house. [Enter CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, Nurse, and two Servingmen] CAPULET So many guests invite as here are writ. [Exit First Servant] Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning cooks. Second Servant You shall have none ill, sir; for I'll try if they can lick their fingers. CAPULET How canst thou try them so? Second Servant Marry, sir, 'tis an ill cook that cannot lick his own fingers: therefore he that cannot lick his fingers goes not with me. CAPULET Go, be gone. [Exit Second Servant] We shall be much unfurnished for this time. What, is my daughter gone to Friar Laurence? Nurse Ay, forsooth. CAPULET Well, he may chance to do some good on her: A peevish self-will'd harlotry it is. Nurse See where she comes from shrift with merry look. [Enter JULIET] CAPULET How now, my headstrong! where have you been gadding? JULIET Where I have learn'd me to repent the sin Of disobedient opposition To you and your behests, and am enjoin'd By holy Laurence to fall prostrate here, And beg your pardon: pardon, I beseech you! Henceforward I am ever ruled by you. CAPULET Send for the county; go tell him of this: I'll have this knot knit up to-morrow morning. JULIET I met the youthful lord at Laurence' cell; And gave him what becomed love I might, Not step o'er the bounds of modesty. CAPULET Why, I am glad on't; this is well: stand up: This is as't should be. Let me see the county; Ay, marry, go, I say, and fetch him hither. Now, afore God! this reverend holy friar, Our whole city is much bound to him. JULIET 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? LADY CAPULET No, not till Thursday; there is time enough. CAPULET Go, nurse, go with her: we'll to church to-morrow. [Exeunt JULIET and Nurse] LADY CAPULET We shall be short in our provision: 'Tis now near night. CAPULET Tush, I will stir about, And all things shall be well, I warrant thee, wife: Go thou to Juliet, help to deck up her; I'll not to bed to-night; let me alone; I'll play the housewife for this once. What, ho! They are all forth. Well, I will walk myself To County Paris, to prepare him up Against to-morrow: my heart is wondrous light, Since this same wayward girl is so reclaim'd. [Exeunt] ROMEO AND JULIET ACT IV SCENE III Juliet's chamber. [Enter JULIET and Nurse] JULIET Ay, those attires are best: but, gentle nurse, I pray thee, leave me to myself to-night, For I have need of many orisons To move the heavens to smile upon my state, Which, well thou know'st, is cross, and full of sin. [Enter LADY CAPULET] LADY CAPULET What, are you busy, ho? need you my help? JULIET No, madam; we have cull'd such necessaries As are behoveful for our state to-morrow: So please you, let me now be left alone, And let the nurse this night sit up with you; For, I am sure, you have your hands full all, In this so sudden business. LADY CAPULET Good night: Get thee to bed, and rest; for thou hast need. [Exeunt LADY CAPULET and Nurse] JULIET Farewell! God knows when we shall meet again. I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins, That almost freezes up the heat of life: I'll call them back again to comfort me: Nurse! What should she do here? My dismal scene I needs must act alone. Come, vial. What if this mixture do not work at all? Shall I be married then to-morrow morning? No, no: this shall forbid it: lie thou there. [Laying down her dagger] What if it be a poison, which the friar Subtly hath minister'd to have me dead, Lest in this marriage he should be dishonour'd, Because he married me before to Romeo? I fear it is: and yet, methinks, it should not, For he hath still been tried a holy man. How if, when I am laid into the tomb, I wake before the time that Romeo Come to redeem me? there's a fearful point! Shall I not, then, be stifled in the vault, To whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes in, And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes? Or, if I live, is it not very like, The horrible conceit of death and night, Together with the terror of the place,-- As in a vault, an ancient receptacle, Where, for these many hundred years, the bones Of all my buried ancestors are packed: Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth, Lies festering in his shroud; where, as they say, At some hours in the night spirits resort;-- Alack, alack, is it not like that I, So early waking, what with loathsome smells, And shrieks like mandrakes' torn out of the earth, That living mortals, hearing them, run mad:-- O, if I wake, shall I not be distraught, Environed with all these hideous fears? And madly play with my forefather's joints? And pluck the mangled Tybalt from his shroud? And, in this rage, with some great kinsman's bone, As with a club, dash out my desperate brains? O, look! methinks I see my cousin's ghost Seeking out Romeo, that did spit his body Upon a rapier's point: stay, Tybalt, stay! Romeo, I come! this do I drink to thee. [She falls upon her bed, within the curtains] ROMEO AND JULIET ACT IV SCENE IV Hall in Capulet's house. [Enter LADY CAPULET and Nurse] LADY CAPULET Hold, take these keys, and fetch more spices, nurse. Nurse They call for dates and quinces in the pastry. [Enter CAPULET] CAPULET Come, stir, stir, stir! the second cock hath crow'd, The curfew-bell hath rung, 'tis three o'clock: Look to the baked meats, good Angelica: Spare not for the cost. Nurse Go, you cot-quean, go, Get you to bed; faith, You'll be sick to-morrow For this night's watching. CAPULET No, not a whit: what! I have watch'd ere now All night for lesser cause, and ne'er been sick. LADY CAPULET Ay, you have been a mouse-hunt in your time; But I will watch you from such watching now. [Exeunt LADY CAPULET and Nurse] CAPULET A jealous hood, a jealous hood! [Enter three or four Servingmen, with spits, logs, and baskets] Now, fellow, What's there? First Servant Things for the cook, sir; but I know not what. CAPULET Make haste, make haste. [Exit First Servant] Sirrah, fetch drier logs: Call Peter, he will show thee where they are. Second Servant I have a head, sir, that will find out logs, And never trouble Peter for the matter. [Exit] CAPULET Mass, and well said; a merry whoreson, ha! Thou shalt be logger-head. Good faith, 'tis day: The county will be here with music straight, For so he said he would: I hear him near. [Music within] Nurse! Wife! What, ho! What, nurse, I say! [Re-enter Nurse] Go waken Juliet, go and trim her up; I'll go and chat with Paris: hie, make haste, Make haste; the bridegroom he is come already: Make haste, I say. [Exeunt] ROMEO AND JULIET ACT IV SCENE V Juliet's chamber. [Enter Nurse] Nurse Mistress! what, mistress! Juliet! fast, I warrant her, she: Why, lamb! why, lady! fie, you slug-a-bed! Why, love, I say! madam! sweet-heart! why, bride! What, not a word? you take your pennyworths now; Sleep for a week; for the next night, I warrant, The County Paris hath set up his rest, That you shall rest but little. God forgive me, Marry, and amen, how sound is she asleep! I must needs wake her. Madam, madam, madam! Ay, let the county take you in your bed; He'll fright you up, i' faith. Will it not be? [Undraws the curtains] What, dress'd! and in your clothes! and down again! I must needs wake you; Lady! lady! lady! Alas, alas! Help, help! my lady's dead! O, well-a-day, that ever I was born! Some aqua vitae, ho! My lord! my lady! [Enter LADY CAPULET] LADY CAPULET What noise is here? Nurse O lamentable day! LADY CAPULET What is the matter? Nurse Look, look! O heavy day! LADY CAPULET O me, O me! My child, my only life, Revive, look up, or I will die with thee! Help, help! Call help. [Enter CAPULET] CAPULET For shame, bring Juliet forth; her lord is come. Nurse She's dead, deceased, she's dead; alack the day! LADY CAPULET Alack the day, she's dead, she's dead, she's dead! CAPULET Ha! let me see her: out, alas! she's cold: Her blood is settled, and her joints are stiff; Life and these lips have long been separated: Death lies on her like an untimely frost Upon the sweetest flower of all the field. Nurse O lamentable day! LADY CAPULET O woful time! CAPULET Death, that hath ta'en her hence to make me wail, Ties up my tongue, and will not let me speak. [Enter FRIAR LAURENCE and PARIS, with Musicians] FRIAR LAURENCE Come, is the bride ready to go to church? CAPULET Ready to go, but never to return. O son! the night before thy wedding-day Hath Death lain with thy wife. There she lies, Flower as she was, deflowered by him. Death is my son-in-law, Death is my heir; My daughter he hath wedded: I will die, And leave him all; life, living, all is Death's. PARIS Have I thought long to see this morning's face, And doth it give me such a sight as this? LADY CAPULET Accursed, unhappy, wretched, hateful day! Most miserable hour that e'er time saw In lasting labour of his pilgrimage! But one, poor one, one poor and loving child, But one thing to rejoice and solace in, And cruel death hath catch'd it from my sight! Nurse O woe! O woful, woful, woful day! Most lamentable day, most woful day, That ever, ever, I did yet behold! O day! O day! O day! O hateful day! Never was seen so black a day as this: O woful day, O woful day! PARIS Beguiled, divorced, wronged, spited, slain! Most detestable death, by thee beguil'd, By cruel cruel thee quite overthrown! O love! O life! not life, but love in death! CAPULET Despised, distressed, hated, martyr'd, kill'd! Uncomfortable time, why camest thou now To murder, murder our solemnity? O child! O child! my soul, and not my child! Dead art thou! Alack! my child is dead; And with my child my joys are buried. FRIAR LAURENCE Peace, ho, for shame! confusion's cure lives not In these confusions. Heaven and yourself Had part in this fair maid; now heaven hath all, And all the better is it for the maid: Your part in her you could not keep from death, But heaven keeps his part in eternal life. The most you sought was her promotion; For 'twas your heaven she should be advanced: And weep ye now, seeing she is advanced Above the clouds, as high as heaven itself? O, in this love, you love your child so ill, That you run mad, seeing that she is well: She's not well married that lives married long; But she's best married that dies married young. Dry up your tears, and stick your rosemary On this fair corse; and, as the custom is, In all her best array bear her to church: For though fond nature bids us an lament, Yet nature's tears are reason's merriment. CAPULET 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. FRIAR LAURENCE Sir, go you in; and, madam, go with him; And go, Sir Paris; every one prepare To follow this fair corse unto her grave: The heavens do lour upon you for some ill; Move them no more by crossing their high will. [Exeunt CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, PARIS, and FRIAR LAURENCE] First Musician Faith, we may put up our pipes, and be gone. Nurse Honest goodfellows, ah, put up, put up; For, well you know, this is a pitiful case. [Exit] First Musician Ay, by my troth, the case may be amended. [Enter PETER] PETER Musicians, O, musicians, 'Heart's ease, Heart's ease:' O, an you will have me live, play 'Heart's ease.' First Musician Why 'Heart's ease?' PETER O, musicians, because my heart itself plays 'My heart is full of woe:' O, play me some merry dump, to comfort me. First Musician Not a dump we; 'tis no time to play now. PETER You will not, then? First Musician No. PETER I will then give it you soundly. First Musician What will you give us? PETER No money, on my faith, but the gleek; I will give you the minstrel. First Musician Then I will give you the serving-creature. PETER Then will I lay the serving-creature's dagger on your pate. I will carry no crotchets: I'll re you, I'll fa you; do you note me? First Musician An you re us and fa us, you note us. Second Musician Pray you, put up your dagger, and put out your wit. PETER Then have at you with my wit! I will dry-beat you with an iron wit, and put up my iron dagger. Answer me like men: 'When griping grief the heart doth wound, And doleful dumps the mind oppress, Then music with her silver sound'-- why 'silver sound'? why 'music with her silver sound'? What say you, Simon Catling? Musician Marry, sir, because silver hath a sweet sound. PETER Pretty! What say you, Hugh Rebeck? Second Musician I say 'silver sound,' because musicians sound for silver. PETER Pretty too! What say you, James Soundpost? Third Musician Faith, I know not what to say. PETER O, I cry you mercy; you are the singer: I will say for you. It is 'music with her silver sound,' because musicians have no gold for sounding: 'Then music with her silver sound With speedy help doth lend redress.' [Exit] First Musician What a pestilent knave is this same! Second Musician Hang him, Jack! Come, we'll in here; tarry for the mourners, and stay dinner. [Exeunt] ROMEO AND JULIET ACT V SCENE I Mantua. A street. [Enter ROMEO] ROMEO If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep, My dreams presage some joyful news at hand: 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. I dreamt my lady came and found me dead-- Strange dream, that gives a dead man leave to think!-- And breathed such life with kisses in my lips, That I revived, and was an emperor. Ah me! how sweet is love itself possess'd, When but love's shadows are so rich in joy! [Enter BALTHASAR, booted] News from Verona!--How now, Balthasar! Dost thou not bring me letters from the friar? How doth my lady? Is my father well? How fares my Juliet? that I ask again; For nothing can be ill, if she be well. BALTHASAR Then she is well, and nothing can be ill: Her body sleeps in Capel's monument, And her immortal part with angels lives. I saw her laid low in her kindred's vault, And presently took post to tell it you: O, pardon me for bringing these ill news, Since you did leave it for my office, sir. ROMEO Is it even so? then I defy you, stars! Thou know'st my lodging: get me ink and paper, And hire post-horses; I will hence to-night. BALTHASAR I do beseech you, sir, have patience: Your looks are pale and wild, and do import Some misadventure. ROMEO Tush, thou art deceived: Leave me, and do the thing I bid thee do. Hast thou no letters to me from the friar? BALTHASAR No, my good lord. ROMEO No matter: get thee gone, And hire those horses; I'll be with thee straight. [Exit BALTHASAR] Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee to-night. Let's see for means: O mischief, thou art swift To enter in the thoughts of desperate men! I do remember an apothecary,-- And hereabouts he dwells,--which late I noted In tatter'd weeds, with overwhelming brows, Culling of simples; meagre were his looks, Sharp misery had worn him to the bones: And in his needy shop a tortoise hung, An alligator stuff'd, and other skins Of ill-shaped fishes; and about his shelves A beggarly account of empty boxes, Green earthen pots, bladders and musty seeds, Remnants of packthread and old cakes of roses, Were thinly scatter'd, to make up a show. Noting this penury, to myself I said 'An if a man did need a poison now, Whose sale is present death in Mantua, Here lives a caitiff wretch would sell it him.' O, this same thought did but forerun my need; And this same needy man must sell it me. As I remember, this should be the house. Being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut. What, ho! apothecary! [Enter Apothecary] Apothecary Who calls so loud? ROMEO Come hither, man. I see that thou art poor: Hold, there is forty ducats: let me have A dram of poison, such soon-speeding gear As will disperse itself through all the veins That the life-weary taker may fall dead And that the trunk may be discharged of breath As violently as hasty powder fired Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb. Apothecary Such mortal drugs I have; but Mantua's law Is death to any he that utters them. ROMEO Art thou so bare and full of wretchedness, And fear'st to die? famine is in thy cheeks, Need and oppression starveth in thine eyes, Contempt and beggary hangs upon thy back; The world is not thy friend nor the world's law; The world affords no law to make thee rich; Then be not poor, but break it, and take this. Apothecary My poverty, but not my will, consents. ROMEO I pay thy poverty, and not thy will. Apothecary Put this in any liquid thing you will, And drink it off; and, if you had the strength Of twenty men, it would dispatch you straight. ROMEO There is thy gold, worse poison to men's souls, Doing more murders in this loathsome world, Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell. I sell thee poison; thou hast sold me none. Farewell: buy food, and get thyself in flesh. Come, cordial and not poison, go with me To Juliet's grave; for there must I use thee. [Exeunt] ROMEO AND JULIET ACT V SCENE II Friar Laurence's cell. [Enter FRIAR JOHN] FRIAR JOHN Holy Franciscan friar! brother, ho! [Enter FRIAR LAURENCE] FRIAR LAURENCE This same should be the voice of Friar John. Welcome from Mantua: what says Romeo? Or, if his mind be writ, give me his letter. FRIAR JOHN Going to find a bare-foot 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. FRIAR LAURENCE Who bare my letter, then, to Romeo? FRIAR JOHN I could not send it,--here it is again,-- Nor get a messenger to bring it thee, So fearful were they of infection. FRIAR LAURENCE Unhappy fortune! by my brotherhood, The letter was not nice but full of charge Of dear import, and the neglecting it May do much danger. Friar John, go hence; Get me an iron crow, and bring it straight Unto my cell. FRIAR JOHN Brother, I'll go and bring it thee. [Exit] FRIAR LAURENCE Now must I to the monument alone; Within three hours will fair Juliet wake: She will beshrew me much that Romeo Hath had no notice of these accidents; But I will write again to Mantua, And keep her at my cell till Romeo come; Poor living corse, closed in a dead man's tomb! [Exit] ROMEO AND JULIET ACT V SCENE III A churchyard; in it a tomb belonging to the Capulets. [Enter PARIS, and his Page bearing flowers and a torch] PARIS Give me thy torch, boy: hence, and stand aloof: Yet put it out, for I would not be seen. Under yond yew-trees lay thee all along, Holding thine ear close to the hollow ground; So shall no foot upon the churchyard tread, Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of graves, But thou shalt hear it: whistle then to me, As signal that thou hear'st something approach. Give me those flowers. Do as I bid thee, go. PAGE [Aside] I am almost afraid to stand alone Here in the churchyard; yet I will adventure. [Retires] PARIS Sweet flower, with flowers thy bridal bed I strew,-- O woe! thy canopy is dust and stones;-- Which with sweet water nightly I will dew, Or, wanting that, with tears distill'd by moans: The obsequies that I for thee will keep Nightly shall be to strew thy grave and weep. [The Page whistles] The boy gives warning something doth approach. What cursed foot wanders this way to-night, To cross my obsequies and true love's rite? What with a torch! muffle me, night, awhile. [Retires] [Enter ROMEO and BALTHASAR, with a torch, mattock, &c] ROMEO Give me that mattock and the wrenching iron. Hold, take this letter; early in the morning See thou deliver it to my lord and father. Give me the light: upon thy life, I charge thee, Whate'er thou hear'st or seest, stand all aloof, And do not interrupt me in my course. Why I descend into this bed of death, Is partly to behold my lady's face; But chiefly to take thence from her dead finger A precious ring, a ring that I must use In dear employment: therefore hence, be gone: But if thou, jealous, dost return to pry In what I further shall intend to do, By heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint And strew this hungry churchyard with thy limbs: The time and my intents are savage-wild, More fierce and more inexorable far Than empty tigers or the roaring sea. BALTHASAR I will be gone, sir, and not trouble you. ROMEO So shalt thou show me friendship. Take thou that: Live, and be prosperous: and farewell, good fellow. BALTHASAR [Aside] For all this same, I'll hide me hereabout: His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt. [Retires] ROMEO Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death, Gorged 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! [Opens the tomb] PARIS This is that banish'd haughty Montague, That murder'd 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: I will apprehend him. [Comes forward] Stop thy unhallow'd toil, vile Montague! Can vengeance be pursued further than death? Condemned villain, I do apprehend thee: Obey, and go with me; for thou must die. ROMEO I must indeed; and therefore came I hither. Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man; Fly hence, and leave me: think upon these gone; Let them affright thee. I beseech thee, youth, Put not another sin upon my head, By urging me to fury: O, be gone! By heaven, I love thee better than myself; For I come hither arm'd against myself: Stay not, be gone; live, and hereafter say, A madman's mercy bade thee run away. PARIS I do defy thy conjurations, And apprehend thee for a felon here. ROMEO Wilt thou provoke me? then have at thee, boy! [They fight] PAGE O Lord, they fight! I will go call the watch. [Exit] PARIS O, I am slain! [Falls] If thou be merciful, Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet. [Dies] ROMEO In faith, I will. Let me peruse this face. Mercutio's kinsman, noble County Paris! What said my man, when my betossed soul Did not attend him as we rode? I think He told me Paris should have married Juliet: 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; A grave? O no! a lantern, slaughter'd youth, For here lies Juliet, and her beauty makes This vault a feasting presence full of light. Death, lie thou there, by a dead man interr'd. [Laying PARIS in the tomb] How oft when men are at the point of death Have they been merry! which their keepers call A lightning before death: O, how may I Call this a lightning? O my love! my wife! Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath, Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty: Thou art not conquer'd; beauty's ensign yet Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks, And death's pale flag is not advanced there. Tybalt, liest thou there in thy bloody sheet? O, what more favour can I do to thee, Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain To sunder his that was thine enemy? Forgive me, cousin! Ah, dear Juliet, Why art thou yet so fair? shall I believe That unsubstantial death is amorous, And that the lean abhorred monster keeps Thee here in dark to be his paramour? For fear of that, I still will stay with thee; And never from this palace of dim night Depart again: here, here will I remain With worms that are thy chamber-maids; O, here Will I set up my everlasting rest, And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars From this world-wearied flesh. Eyes, look your last! Arms, take your last embrace! and, lips, O you The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss A dateless bargain to engrossing death! Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury guide! Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark! Here's to my love! [Drinks] O true apothecary! Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die. [Dies] [Enter, at the other end of the churchyard, FRIAR LAURENCE, with a lantern, crow, and spade] FRIAR LAURENCE Saint Francis be my speed! how oft to-night Have my old feet stumbled at graves! Who's there? BALTHASAR Here's one, a friend, and one that knows you well. FRIAR LAURENCE 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 Capel's monument. BALTHASAR It doth so, holy sir; and there's my master, One that you love. FRIAR LAURENCE Who is it? BALTHASAR Romeo. FRIAR LAURENCE How long hath he been there? BALTHASAR Full half an hour. FRIAR LAURENCE Go with me to the vault. BALTHASAR I dare not, sir My master knows not but I am gone hence; And fearfully did menace me with death, If I did stay to look on his intents. FRIAR LAURENCE Stay, then; I'll go alone. Fear comes upon me: O, much I fear some ill unlucky thing. BALTHASAR As I did sleep under this yew-tree here, I dreamt my master and another fought, And that my master slew him. FRIAR LAURENCE Romeo! [Advances] 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. [JULIET wakes] JULIET O comfortable friar! where is my lord? I do remember well where I should be, And there I am. Where is my Romeo? [Noise within] FRIAR LAURENCE I hear some noise. Lady, come from that nest Of death, contagion, and unnatural sleep: A greater power than we can contradict Hath thwarted our intents. Come, come away. Thy husband in thy bosom there lies dead; And Paris too. Come, I'll dispose of thee Among a sisterhood of holy nuns: Stay not to question, for the watch is coming; Come, go, good Juliet, [Noise again] I dare no longer stay. JULIET Go, get thee hence, for I will not away. [Exit FRIAR LAURENCE] What's here? a cup, closed in my true love's hand? Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end: O churl! drunk all, and left no friendly drop To help me after? I will kiss thy lips; Haply some poison yet doth hang on them, To make die with a restorative. [Kisses him] Thy lips are warm. First Watchman [Within] Lead, boy: which way? JULIET Yea, noise? then I'll be brief. O happy dagger! [Snatching ROMEO's dagger] This is thy sheath; [Stabs herself] there rust, and let me die. [Falls on ROMEO's body, and dies] [Enter Watch, with the Page of PARIS] PAGE This is the place; there, where the torch doth burn. First Watchman The ground is bloody; search about the churchyard: Go, some of you, whoe'er you find attach. Pitiful sight! here lies the county slain, And Juliet bleeding, warm, and newly dead, Who here hath lain these two days buried. Go, tell the prince: run to the Capulets: Raise up the Montagues: some others search: We see the ground whereon these woes do lie; But the true ground of all these piteous woes We cannot without circumstance descry. [Re-enter some of the Watch, with BALTHASAR] Second Watchman Here's Romeo's man; we found him in the churchyard. First Watchman Hold him in safety, till the prince come hither. [Re-enter others of the Watch, with FRIAR LAURENCE] Third Watchman Here is a friar, that trembles, sighs and weeps: We took this mattock and this spade from him, As he was coming from this churchyard side. First Watchman A great suspicion: stay the friar too. [Enter the PRINCE and Attendants] PRINCE What misadventure is so early up, That calls our person from our morning's rest? [Enter CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, and others] CAPULET What should it be, that they so shriek abroad? LADY CAPULET The people in the street cry Romeo, Some Juliet, and some Paris; and all run, With open outcry toward our monument. PRINCE What fear is this which startles in our ears? First Watchman Sovereign, here lies the County Paris slain; And Romeo dead; and Juliet, dead before, Warm and new kill'd. PRINCE Search, seek, and know how this foul murder comes. First Watchman Here is a friar, and slaughter'd Romeo's man; With instruments upon them, fit to open These dead men's tombs. CAPULET O heavens! O wife, look how our daughter bleeds! This dagger hath mista'en--for, lo, his house Is empty on the back of Montague,-- And it mis-sheathed in my daughter's bosom! LADY CAPULET O me! this sight of death is as a bell, That warns my old age to a sepulchre. [Enter MONTAGUE and others] PRINCE Come, Montague; for thou art early up, To see thy son and heir more early down. MONTAGUE Alas, my liege, my wife is dead to-night; Grief of my son's exile hath stopp'd her breath: What further woe conspires against mine age? PRINCE Look, and thou shalt see. MONTAGUE O thou untaught! what manners is in this? To press before thy father to a grave? PRINCE Seal up the mouth of outrage for a while, Till we can clear these ambiguities, And know their spring, their head, their true descent; And then will I be general of your woes, And lead you even to death: meantime forbear, And let mischance be slave to patience. Bring forth the parties of suspicion. FRIAR LAURENCE I am the greatest, able to do least, Yet most suspected, as the time and place Doth make against me of this direful murder; And here I stand, both to impeach and purge Myself condemned and myself excused. PRINCE Then say at once what thou dost know in this. FRIAR LAURENCE I will be brief, for my short date of breath Is not so long as is a tedious tale. Romeo, there dead, was husband to that Juliet; And she, there dead, that Romeo's faithful wife: I married them; and their stol'n marriage-day Was Tybalt's dooms-day, whose untimely death Banish'd the new-made bridegroom from the city, For whom, and not for Tybalt, Juliet pined. You, to remove that siege of grief from her, Betroth'd and would have married her perforce To County Paris: 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 tutor'd 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 borrow'd grave, Being the time the potion's force should cease. But he which bore my letter, Friar John, Was stay'd by accident, and yesternight Return'd my letter back. Then all alone At the prefixed hour of her waking, Came I to take her from her kindred's vault; Meaning to keep her closely at my cell, Till I conveniently could send to Romeo: But when I came, some minute ere the time Of her awaking, here untimely lay The noble Paris and true Romeo dead. She wakes; and I entreated her come forth, And bear this work of heaven with patience: But then a noise did scare me from the tomb; And she, too desperate, would not go with me, But, as it seems, did violence on herself. 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 sacrificed, some hour before his time, Unto the rigour of severest law. PRINCE We still have known thee for a holy man. Where's Romeo's man? what can he say in this? BALTHASAR I brought my master news of Juliet's death; And then in post he came from Mantua To this same place, to this same monument. This letter he early bid me give his father, And threatened me with death, going in the vault, I departed not and left him there. PRINCE Give me the letter; I will look on it. Where is the county's page, that raised the watch? Sirrah, what made your master in this place? PAGE He came with flowers to strew his lady's grave; And bid me stand aloof, and so I did: 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. PRINCE This letter doth make good the friar's words, Their course of love, the tidings of her death: And here he writes that he did buy a poison Of a poor 'pothecary, and therewithal Came to this vault to die, and lie with Juliet. Where be these enemies? Capulet! Montague! See, what a scourge is laid upon your hate, That heaven finds means to kill your joys with love. And I for winking at your discords too Have lost a brace of kinsmen: all are punish'd. CAPULET O brother Montague, give me thy hand: This is my daughter's jointure, for no more Can I demand. MONTAGUE But I can give thee more: For I will raise her statue in pure gold; That while Verona by that name is known, There shall no figure at such rate be set As that of true and faithful Juliet. CAPULET As rich shall Romeo's by his lady's lie; Poor sacrifices of our enmity! PRINCE A glooming peace this morning with it brings; The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head: Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things; Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished: For never was a story of more woe Than this of Juliet and her Romeo. [Exeunt] JULIUS CAESAR DRAMATIS PERSONAE JULIUS CAESAR (CAESAR:) OCTAVIUS CAESAR (OCTAVIUS:) | | MARCUS ANTONIUS (ANTONY:) | triumvirs after death of Julius Caesar. | M. AEMILIUS | LEPIDUS (LEPIDUS:) | CICERO | | PUBLIUS | senators. | POPILIUS LENA (POPILIUS:) | MARCUS BRUTUS (BRUTUS:) | | CASSIUS | | CASCA | | TREBONIUS | | conspirators against Julius Caesar. LIGARIUS | | DECIUS BRUTUS | | METELLUS CIMBER | | CINNA | FLAVIUS | | tribunes. MARULLUS | ARTEMIDORUS Of Cnidos a teacher of rhetoric. (ARTEMIDORUS:) A Soothsayer (Soothsayer:) CINNA a poet. (CINNA THE POET:) Another Poet (Poet:) LUCILIUS | | TITINIUS | | MESSALA | friends to Brutus and Cassius. | Young CATO (CATO:) | | VOLUMNIUS | VARRO | | CLITUS | | CLAUDIUS | | servants to Brutus. STRATO | | LUCIUS | | DARDANIUS | PINDARUS servant to Cassius. CALPURNIA wife to Caesar. PORTIA wife to Brutus. Senators, Citizens, Guards, Attendants, &c. (First Citizen:) (Second Citizen:) (Third Citizen:) (Fourth Citizen:) (First Commoner:) (Second Commoner:) (Servant:) (First Soldier:) (Second Soldier:) (Third Soldier:) (Messenger:) SCENE Rome: the neighbourhood of Sardis: the neighbourhood of Philippi. JULIUS CAESAR ACT I SCENE I Rome. A street. [Enter FLAVIUS, MARULLUS, and certain Commoners] FLAVIUS Hence! home, you idle creatures get you home: Is this a holiday? what! know you not, Being mechanical, you ought not walk Upon a labouring day without the sign Of your profession? Speak, what trade art thou? First Commoner Why, sir, a carpenter. MARULLUS Where is thy leather apron and thy rule? What dost thou with thy best apparel on? You, sir, what trade are you? Second Commoner Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but, as you would say, a cobbler. MARULLUS But what trade art thou? answer me directly. Second Commoner A trade, sir, that, I hope, I may use with a safe conscience; which is, indeed, sir, a mender of bad soles. MARULLUS What trade, thou knave? thou naughty knave, what trade? Second Commoner Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me: yet, if you be out, sir, I can mend you. MARULLUS What meanest thou by that? mend me, thou saucy fellow! Second Commoner Why, sir, cobble you. FLAVIUS Thou art a cobbler, art thou? Second Commoner Truly, sir, all that I live by is with the awl: I meddle with no tradesman's matters, nor women's matters, but with awl. I am, indeed, sir, a surgeon to old shoes; when they are in great danger, I recover them. As proper men as ever trod upon neat's leather have gone upon my handiwork. FLAVIUS But wherefore art not in thy shop today? Why dost thou lead these men about the streets? Second Commoner Truly, sir, to wear out their shoes, to get myself into more work. But, indeed, sir, we make holiday, to see Caesar and to rejoice in his triumph. MARULLUS 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: And when you saw his chariot but appear, Have you not made an universal shout, That Tiber trembled underneath her banks, To hear the replication of your sounds Made in her concave shores? And do you now put on your best attire? And do you now cull out a holiday? And do you now strew flowers in his way That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood? Be gone! Run to your houses, fall upon your knees, Pray to the gods to intermit the plague That needs must light on this ingratitude. FLAVIUS 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. [Exeunt all the Commoners] See whether their basest metal be not moved; They vanish tongue-tied in their guiltiness. Go you down that way towards the Capitol; This way will I disrobe the images, If you do find them deck'd with ceremonies. MARULLUS May we do so? You know it is the feast of Lupercal. FLAVIUS It is no matter; let no images Be hung with Caesar's trophies. I'll about, And drive away the vulgar from the streets: So do you too, where you perceive them thick. These growing feathers pluck'd from Caesar's wing Will make him fly an ordinary pitch, Who else would soar above the view of men And keep us all in servile fearfulness. [Exeunt] JULIUS CAESAR ACT I SCENE II A public place. [Flourish. Enter CAESAR; ANTONY, for the course; CALPURNIA, PORTIA, DECIUS BRUTUS, CICERO, BRUTUS, CASSIUS, and CASCA; a great crowd following, among them a Soothsayer] CAESAR Calpurnia! CASCA Peace, ho! Caesar speaks. CAESAR Calpurnia! CALPURNIA Here, my lord. CAESAR Stand you directly in Antonius' way, When he doth run his course. Antonius! ANTONY Caesar, my lord? CAESAR Forget not, in your speed, Antonius, To touch Calpurnia; for our elders say, The barren, touched in this holy chase, Shake off their sterile curse. ANTONY I shall remember: When Caesar says 'do this,' it is perform'd. CAESAR Set on; and leave no ceremony out. [Flourish] Soothsayer Caesar! CAESAR Ha! who calls? CASCA Bid every noise be still: peace yet again! CAESAR Who is it in the press that calls on me? I hear a tongue, shriller than all the music, Cry 'Caesar!' Speak; Caesar is turn'd to hear. Soothsayer Beware the ides of March. CAESAR What man is that? BRUTUS A soothsayer bids you beware the ides of March. CAESAR Set him before me; let me see his face. CASSIUS Fellow, come from the throng; look upon Caesar. CAESAR What say'st thou to me now? speak once again. Soothsayer Beware the ides of March. CAESAR He is a dreamer; let us leave him: pass. [Sennet. Exeunt all except BRUTUS and CASSIUS] CASSIUS Will you go see the order of the course? BRUTUS Not I. CASSIUS I pray you, do. BRUTUS I am not gamesome: I do lack some part Of that quick spirit that is in Antony. Let me not hinder, Cassius, your desires; I'll leave you. CASSIUS Brutus, I do observe you now of late: I have not from your eyes that gentleness And show of love as I was wont to have: You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand Over your friend that loves you. BRUTUS Cassius, Be not deceived: if I have veil'd my look, I turn the trouble of my countenance Merely upon myself. 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. CASSIUS Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your passion; By means whereof this breast of mine hath buried Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations. Tell me, good Brutus, can you see your face? BRUTUS No, Cassius; for the eye sees not itself, But by reflection, by some other things. CASSIUS 'Tis just: And it is very much lamented, Brutus, That you have no such mirrors as will turn Your hidden worthiness into your eye, That you might see your shadow. I have heard, Where many of the best respect in Rome, Except immortal Caesar, speaking of Brutus And groaning underneath this age's yoke, Have wish'd that noble Brutus had his eyes. BRUTUS Into what dangers would you lead me, Cassius, That you would have me seek into myself For that which is not in me? CASSIUS Therefore, good Brutus, be prepared to hear: And since you know you cannot see yourself So well as by reflection, I, your glass, Will modestly discover to yourself That of yourself which you yet know not of. 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. [Flourish, and shout] BRUTUS What means this shouting? I do fear, the people Choose Caesar for their king. CASSIUS Ay, do you fear it? Then must I think you would not have it so. BRUTUS I would not, Cassius; yet I love him well. But wherefore do you hold me here so long? What is it that you would impart to me? If it be aught toward the general good, Set honour in one eye and death i' the other, And I will look on both indifferently, For let the gods so speed me as I love The name of honour more than I fear death. CASSIUS I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus, As well as I do know your outward favour. Well, honour is the subject of my story. I cannot tell what you and other men Think of this life; but, for my single self, I had as lief not be as live to be In awe of such a thing as I myself. 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: For once, upon a raw and gusty day, The troubled Tiber chafing with her shores, Caesar said to me 'Darest thou, Cassius, now Leap in with me into this angry flood, And swim to yonder point?' Upon the word, Accoutred as I was, I plunged in And bade him follow; so indeed he did. The torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it With lusty sinews, throwing it aside And stemming it with hearts of controversy; 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. And this man Is now become a god, and Cassius is A wretched creature and must bend his body, If Caesar carelessly but nod on him. He had a fever when he was in Spain, And when the fit was on him, I did mark How he did shake: 'tis true, this god did shake; His coward lips did from their colour fly, And that same eye whose bend doth awe the world Did lose his lustre: I did hear him groan: Ay, and that tongue of his that bade the Romans Mark him and write his speeches in their books, Alas, it cried 'Give me some drink, Titinius,' As a sick girl. 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. [Shout. Flourish] BRUTUS Another general shout! I do believe that these applauses are For some new honours that are heap'd on Caesar. CASSIUS Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world Like a Colossus, and we petty men Walk under his huge legs and peep about To find ourselves dishonourable graves. Men at some time are masters of their fates: The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves, that we are underlings. Brutus and Caesar: 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. O, you and I have heard our fathers say, There was a Brutus once that would have brook'd The eternal devil to keep his state in Rome As easily as a king. BRUTUS That you do love me, I am nothing jealous; What you would work me to, I have some aim: 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. What you have said I will consider; what you have to say I will with patience hear, and find a time Both meet to hear and answer such high things. Till then, my noble friend, chew upon this: Brutus had rather be a villager Than to repute himself a son of Rome Under these hard conditions as this time Is like to lay upon us. CASSIUS I am glad that my weak words Have struck but thus much show of fire from Brutus. BRUTUS The games are done and Caesar is returning. CASSIUS As they pass by, pluck Casca by the sleeve; And he will, after his sour fashion, tell you What hath proceeded worthy note to-day. [Re-enter CAESAR and his Train] BRUTUS I will do so. But, look you, Cassius, The angry spot doth glow on Caesar's brow, And all the rest look like a chidden train: Calpurnia's cheek is pale; and Cicero Looks with such ferret and such fiery eyes As we have seen him in the Capitol, Being cross'd in conference by some senators. CASSIUS Casca will tell us what the matter is. CAESAR Antonius! ANTONY Caesar? CAESAR Let me have men about me that are fat; Sleek-headed men and such as sleep o' nights: Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look; He thinks too much: such men are dangerous. ANTONY Fear him not, Caesar; he's not dangerous; He is a noble Roman and well given. CAESAR Would he were fatter! But I fear him not: Yet if my name were liable to fear, I do not know the man I should avoid So soon as that spare Cassius. He reads much; He is a great observer and he looks Quite through the deeds of men: he loves no plays, As thou dost, Antony; he hears no music; Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort As if he mock'd himself and scorn'd his spirit That could be moved to smile at any thing. Such men as he be never at heart's ease Whiles they behold a greater than themselves, And therefore are they very dangerous. I rather tell thee what is to be fear'd Than what I fear; for always I am Caesar. Come on my right hand, for this ear is deaf, And tell me truly what thou think'st of him. [Sennet. Exeunt CAESAR and all his Train, but CASCA] CASCA You pull'd me by the cloak; would you speak with me? BRUTUS Ay, Casca; tell us what hath chanced to-day, That Caesar looks so sad. CASCA Why, you were with him, were you not? BRUTUS I should not then ask Casca what had chanced. CASCA Why, there was a crown offered him: and being offered him, he put it by with the back of his hand, thus; and then the people fell a-shouting. BRUTUS What was the second noise for? CASCA Why, for that too. CASSIUS They shouted thrice: what was the last cry for? CASCA Why, for that too. BRUTUS Was the crown offered him thrice? CASCA Ay, marry, was't, and he put it by thrice, every time gentler than other, and at every putting-by mine honest neighbours shouted. CASSIUS Who offered him the crown? CASCA Why, Antony. BRUTUS Tell us the manner of it, gentle Casca. CASCA I can as well be hanged as tell the manner of it: it was mere foolery; I did not mark it. I saw Mark Antony offer him a crown;--yet 'twas not a crown neither, 'twas one of these coronets;--and, as I told you, he put it by once: but, for all that, to my thinking, he would fain have had it. Then he offered it to him again; then he put it by again: but, to my thinking, he was very loath to lay his fingers off it. And then he offered it the third time; he put it the third time by: and still as he refused it, the rabblement hooted and clapped their chapped hands and threw up their sweaty night-caps and uttered such a deal of stinking breath because Caesar refused the crown that it had almost choked Caesar; for he swounded and fell down at it: and for mine own part, I durst not laugh, for fear of opening my lips and receiving the bad air. CASSIUS But, soft, I pray you: what, did Caesar swound? CASCA He fell down in the market-place, and foamed at mouth, and was speechless. BRUTUS 'Tis very like: he hath the failing sickness. CASSIUS No, Caesar hath it not; but you and I, And honest Casca, we have the falling sickness. CASCA I know not what you mean by that; but, I am sure, Caesar fell down. If the tag-rag 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. BRUTUS What said he when he came unto himself? CASCA 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 I 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. And so he fell. When he came to himself again, he said, If he had done or said any thing 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: but there's no heed to be taken of them; if Caesar had stabbed their mothers, they would have done no less. BRUTUS And after that, he came, thus sad, away? CASCA Ay. CASSIUS Did Cicero say any thing? CASCA Ay, he spoke Greek. CASSIUS To what effect? CASCA Nay, an I tell you that, Ill 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. I could tell you more news too: Marullus and Flavius, for pulling scarfs off Caesar's images, are put to silence. Fare you well. There was more foolery yet, if I could remember it. CASSIUS Will you sup with me to-night, Casca? CASCA No, I am promised forth. CASSIUS Will you dine with me to-morrow? CASCA Ay, if I be alive and your mind hold and your dinner worth the eating. CASSIUS Good: I will expect you. CASCA Do so. Farewell, both. [Exit] BRUTUS What a blunt fellow is this grown to be! He was quick mettle when he went to school. CASSIUS So is he now in execution Of any bold or noble enterprise, However he puts on this tardy form. This rudeness is a sauce to his good wit, Which gives men stomach to digest his words With better appetite. BRUTUS And so it is. For this time I will leave you: To-morrow, if you please to speak with me, I will come home to you; or, if you will, Come home to me, and I will wait for you. CASSIUS I will do so: till then, think of the world. [Exit BRUTUS] Well, Brutus, thou art noble; yet, I see, Thy honourable metal may be wrought From that it is disposed: therefore it is meet That noble minds keep ever with their likes; For who so firm that cannot be seduced? Caesar doth bear me hard; but he loves Brutus: If I were Brutus now and he were Cassius, He should not humour me. I will this night, In several hands, in at his windows throw, As if they came from several citizens, Writings all tending to the great opinion That Rome holds of his name; wherein obscurely Caesar's ambition shall be glanced at: And after this let Caesar seat him sure; For we will shake him, or worse days endure. [Exit] JULIUS CAESAR ACT I SCENE III The same. A street. [Thunder and lightning. Enter from opposite sides, CASCA, with his sword drawn, and CICERO] CICERO Good even, Casca: brought you Caesar home? Why are you breathless? and why stare you so? CASCA Are not you moved, when all the sway of earth Shakes like a thing unfirm? O Cicero, I have seen tempests, when the scolding winds Have rived the knotty oaks, and I have seen The ambitious ocean swell and rage and foam, To be exalted with the threatening clouds: But never till to-night, never till now, Did I go through a tempest dropping fire. Either there is a civil strife in heaven, Or else the world, too saucy with the gods, Incenses them to send destruction. CICERO Why, saw you any thing more wonderful? CASCA A common slave--you know him well by sight-- Held up his left hand, which did flame and burn Like twenty torches join'd, and yet his hand, Not sensible of fire, remain'd unscorch'd. Besides--I ha' not since put up my sword-- Against the Capitol I met a lion, Who glared upon me, and went surly by, Without annoying me: and there were drawn Upon a heap a hundred ghastly women, Transformed with their fear; who swore they saw Men all in fire walk up and down the streets. And yesterday the bird of night did sit Even at noon-day upon the market-place, Hooting and shrieking. When these prodigies Do so conjointly meet, let not men say 'These are their reasons; they are natural;' For, I believe, they are portentous things Unto the climate that they point upon. CICERO Indeed, it is a strange-disposed time: But men may construe things after their fashion, Clean from the purpose of the things themselves. Come Caesar to the Capitol to-morrow? CASCA He doth; for he did bid Antonius Send word to you he would be there to-morrow. CICERO Good night then, Casca: this disturbed sky Is not to walk in. CASCA Farewell, Cicero. [Exit CICERO] [Enter CASSIUS] CASSIUS Who's there? CASCA A Roman. CASSIUS Casca, by your voice. CASCA Your ear is good. Cassius, what night is this! CASSIUS A very pleasing night to honest men. CASCA Who ever knew the heavens menace so? CASSIUS Those that have known the earth so full of faults. 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 thunder-stone; 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. CASCA But wherefore did you so much tempt the heavens? It is the part of men to fear and tremble, When the most mighty gods by tokens send Such dreadful heralds to astonish us. CASSIUS You are dull, Casca, and those sparks of life That should be in a Roman you do want, Or else you use not. You look pale and gaze And put on fear and cast yourself in wonder, To see the strange impatience of the heavens: But if you would consider the true cause Why all these fires, why all these gliding ghosts, Why birds and beasts from quality and kind, Why old men fool and children calculate, Why all these things change from their ordinance Their natures and preformed faculties To monstrous quality,--why, you shall find That heaven hath infused them with these spirits, To make them instruments of fear and warning Unto some monstrous state. 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. CASCA 'Tis Caesar that you mean; is it not, Cassius? CASSIUS Let it be who it is: for Romans now Have thews and limbs like to their ancestors; But, woe the while! our fathers' minds are dead, And we are govern'd with our mothers' spirits; Our yoke and sufferance show us womanish. CASCA Indeed, they say the senators tomorrow Mean to establish Caesar as a king; And he shall wear his crown by sea and land, In every place, save here in Italy. CASSIUS I know where I will wear this dagger then; Cassius from bondage will deliver Cassius: Therein, ye gods, you make the weak most strong; Therein, ye gods, you tyrants do defeat: Nor stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass, Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron, Can be retentive to the strength of spirit; But life, being weary of these worldly bars, Never lacks power to dismiss itself. If I know this, know all the world besides, That part of tyranny that I do bear I can shake off at pleasure. [Thunder still] CASCA So can I: So every bondman in his own hand bears The power to cancel his captivity. CASSIUS 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: He were no lion, were not Romans hinds. Those that with haste will make a mighty fire Begin it with weak straws: what trash is Rome, What rubbish and what offal, when it serves For the base matter to illuminate So vile a thing as Caesar! But, O grief, Where hast thou led me? I perhaps speak this Before a willing bondman; then I know My answer must be made. But I am arm'd, And dangers are to me indifferent. CASCA You speak to Casca, and to such a man That is no fleering tell-tale. Hold, my hand: Be factious for redress of all these griefs, And I will set this foot of mine as far As who goes farthest. CASSIUS There's a bargain made. Now know you, Casca, I have moved already Some certain of the noblest-minded Romans To undergo with me an enterprise Of honourable-dangerous consequence; And I do know, by this, they stay for me In Pompey's porch: for now, this fearful night, There is no stir or walking in the streets; And the complexion of the element In favour's like the work we have in hand, Most bloody, fiery, and most terrible. CASCA Stand close awhile, for here comes one in haste. CASSIUS 'Tis Cinna; I do know him by his gait; He is a friend. [Enter CINNA] Cinna, where haste you so? CINNA To find out you. Who's that? Metellus Cimber? CASSIUS No, it is Casca; one incorporate To our attempts. Am I not stay'd for, Cinna? CINNA I am glad on 't. What a fearful night is this! There's two or three of us have seen strange sights. CASSIUS Am I not stay'd for? tell me. CINNA Yes, you are. O Cassius, if you could But win the noble Brutus to our party-- CASSIUS Be you content: good Cinna, take this paper, And look you lay it in the praetor's chair, Where Brutus may but find it; and throw this In at his window; set this up with wax Upon old Brutus' statue: all this done, Repair to Pompey's porch, where you shall find us. Is Decius Brutus and Trebonius there? CINNA All but Metellus Cimber; and he's gone To seek you at your house. Well, I will hie, And so bestow these papers as you bade me. CASSIUS That done, repair to Pompey's theatre. [Exit CINNA] Come, Casca, you and I will yet ere day See Brutus at his house: three parts of him Is ours already, and the man entire Upon the next encounter yields him ours. CASCA O, he sits high in all the people's hearts: And that which would appear offence in us, His countenance, like richest alchemy, Will change to virtue and to worthiness. CASSIUS Him and his worth and our great need of him You have right well conceited. Let us go, For it is after midnight; and ere day We will awake him and be sure of him. [Exeunt] JULIUS CAESAR ACT II SCENE I Rome. BRUTUS's orchard. [Enter BRUTUS] BRUTUS What, Lucius, ho! I cannot, by the progress of the stars, Give guess how near to day. Lucius, I say! I would it were my fault to sleep so soundly. When, Lucius, when? awake, I say! what, Lucius! [Enter LUCIUS] LUCIUS Call'd you, my lord? BRUTUS Get me a taper in my study, Lucius: When it is lighted, come and call me here. LUCIUS I will, my lord. [Exit] BRUTUS It must be by his death: and for my part, I know no personal cause to spurn at him, But for the general. He would be crown'd: How that might change his nature, there's the question. It is the bright day that brings forth the adder; And that craves wary walking. Crown him?--that;-- And then, I grant, we put a sting in him, That at his will he may do danger with. The abuse of greatness is, when it disjoins Remorse from power: and, to speak truth of Caesar, I have not known when his affections sway'd More than his reason. But 'tis a common proof, That lowliness is young ambition's ladder, Whereto the climber-upward turns his face; But when he once attains the upmost round. He then unto the ladder turns his back, Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees By which he did ascend. So Caesar may. Then, lest he may, prevent. And, since the quarrel Will bear no colour 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. [Re-enter LUCIUS] LUCIUS The taper burneth in your closet, sir. 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. [Gives him the letter] BRUTUS Get you to bed again; it is not day. Is not to-morrow, boy, the ides of March? LUCIUS I know not, sir. BRUTUS Look in the calendar, and bring me word. LUCIUS I will, sir. [Exit] BRUTUS The exhalations whizzing in the air Give so much light that I may read by them. [Opens the letter and reads] 'Brutus, thou sleep'st: awake, and see thyself. Shall Rome, &c. Speak, strike, redress! Brutus, thou sleep'st: awake!' Such instigations have been often dropp'd Where I have took them up. 'Shall Rome, &c.' Thus must I piece it out: 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. 'Speak, strike, redress!' Am I entreated To speak and strike? O Rome, I make thee promise: If the redress will follow, thou receivest Thy full petition at the hand of Brutus! [Re-enter LUCIUS] LUCIUS Sir, March is wasted fourteen days. [Knocking within] BRUTUS 'Tis good. Go to the gate; somebody knocks. [Exit LUCIUS] Since Cassius first did whet me against Caesar, I have not slept. 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. [Re-enter LUCIUS] LUCIUS Sir, 'tis your brother Cassius at the door, Who doth desire to see you. BRUTUS Is he alone? LUCIUS No, sir, there are moe with him. BRUTUS Do you know them? LUCIUS No, sir; their hats are pluck'd about their ears, And half their faces buried in their cloaks, That by no means I may discover them By any mark of favour. BRUTUS Let 'em enter. [Exit LUCIUS] They are the faction. 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. [Enter the conspirators, CASSIUS, CASCA, DECIUS BRUTUS, CINNA, METELLUS CIMBER, and TREBONIUS] CASSIUS I think we are too bold upon your rest: Good morrow, Brutus; do we trouble you? BRUTUS I have been up this hour, awake all night. Know I these men that come along with you? CASSIUS Yes, every man of them, and no man here But honours you; and every one doth wish You had but that opinion of yourself Which every noble Roman bears of you. This is Trebonius. BRUTUS He is welcome hither. CASSIUS This, Decius Brutus. BRUTUS He is welcome too. CASSIUS This, Casca; this, Cinna; and this, Metellus Cimber. BRUTUS They are all welcome. What watchful cares do interpose themselves Betwixt your eyes and night? CASSIUS Shall I entreat a word? [BRUTUS and CASSIUS whisper] DECIUS BRUTUS Here lies the east: doth not the day break here? CASCA No. CINNA O, pardon, sir, it doth; and yon gray lines That fret the clouds are messengers of day. CASCA You shall confess that you are both deceived. 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. BRUTUS Give me your hands all over, one by one. CASSIUS And let us swear our resolution. BRUTUS No, not an oath: if not the face of men, The sufferance of our souls, the time's abuse,-- If these be motives weak, break off betimes, And every man hence to his idle bed; So let high-sighted tyranny range on, Till each man drop by lottery. But if these, As I am sure they do, bear fire enough To kindle cowards and to steel with valour The melting spirits of women, then, countrymen, What need we any spur but our own cause, To prick us to redress? what other bond Than secret Romans, that have spoke the word, And will not palter? and what other oath Than honesty to honesty engaged, That this shall be, or we will fall for it? Swear priests and cowards and men cautelous, Old feeble carrions and such suffering souls That welcome wrongs; unto bad causes swear Such creatures as men doubt; but do not stain The even virtue of our enterprise, Nor the insuppressive mettle of our spirits, To think that or our cause or our performance Did need an oath; when every drop of blood That every Roman bears, and nobly bears, Is guilty of a several bastardy, If he do break the smallest particle Of any promise that hath pass'd from him. CASSIUS But what of Cicero? shall we sound him? I think he will stand very strong with us. CASCA Let us not leave him out. CINNA No, by no means. METELLUS CIMBER O, let us have him, for his silver hairs Will purchase us a good opinion And buy men's voices to commend our deeds: It shall be said, his judgment ruled our hands; Our youths and wildness shall no whit appear, But all be buried in his gravity. BRUTUS O, name him not: let us not break with him; For he will never follow any thing That other men begin. CASSIUS Then leave him out. CASCA Indeed he is not fit. DECIUS BRUTUS Shall no man else be touch'd but only Caesar? CASSIUS Decius, well urged: I think it is not meet, Mark Antony, so well beloved of Caesar, Should outlive Caesar: 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. BRUTUS Our course will seem too bloody, Caius Cassius, To cut the head off and then hack the limbs, Like wrath in death and envy afterwards; For Antony is but a limb of Caesar: Let us be sacrificers, but not butchers, Caius. We all stand up against the spirit of Caesar; And in the spirit of men there is no blood: O, that we then could come by Caesar's spirit, And not dismember Caesar! But, alas, Caesar must bleed for it! And, gentle friends, Let's kill him boldly, but not wrathfully; Let's carve him as a dish fit for the gods, Not hew him as a carcass fit for hounds: And let our hearts, as subtle masters do, Stir up their servants to an act of rage, And after seem to chide 'em. This shall make Our purpose necessary and not envious: Which so appearing to the common eyes, We shall be call'd purgers, not murderers. And for Mark Antony, think not of him; For he can do no more than Caesar's arm When Caesar's head is off. CASSIUS Yet I fear him; For in the ingrafted love he bears to Caesar-- BRUTUS Alas, good Cassius, do not think of him: If he love Caesar, all that he can do Is to himself, take thought and die for Caesar: And that were much he should; for he is given To sports, to wildness and much company. TREBONIUS There is no fear in him; let him not die; For he will live, and laugh at this hereafter. [Clock strikes] BRUTUS Peace! count the clock. CASSIUS The clock hath stricken three. TREBONIUS 'Tis time to part. CASSIUS But it is doubtful yet, Whether Caesar will come forth to-day, or no; For he is superstitious grown of late, Quite from the main opinion he held once Of fantasy, of dreams and ceremonies: 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 to-day. DECIUS BRUTUS Never fear that: 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 humour the true bent, And I will bring him to the Capitol. CASSIUS Nay, we will all of us be there to fetch him. BRUTUS By the eighth hour: is that the uttermost? CINNA Be that the uttermost, and fail not then. METELLUS CIMBER Caius Ligarius doth bear Caesar hard, Who rated him for speaking well of Pompey: I wonder none of you have thought of him. BRUTUS Now, good Metellus, go along by him: He loves me well, and I have given him reasons; Send him but hither, and I'll fashion him. CASSIUS The morning comes upon 's: we'll leave you, Brutus. And, friends, disperse yourselves; but all remember What you have said, and show yourselves true Romans. BRUTUS Good gentlemen, look fresh and merrily; Let not our looks put on our purposes, But bear it as our Roman actors do, With untired spirits and formal constancy: And so good morrow to you every one. [Exeunt all but BRUTUS] Boy! Lucius! Fast asleep? It is no matter; 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. [Enter PORTIA] PORTIA Brutus, my lord! BRUTUS 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. PORTIA Nor for yours neither. You've ungently, Brutus, Stole from my bed: and yesternight, at supper, You suddenly arose, and walk'd about, Musing and sighing, with your arms across, And when I ask'd you what the matter was, You stared upon me with ungentle looks; I urged you further; then you scratch'd your head, And too impatiently stamp'd with your foot; Yet I insisted, yet you answer'd not, But, with an angry wafture of your hand, Gave sign for me to leave you: so I did; Fearing to strengthen that impatience Which seem'd too much enkindled, and withal Hoping it was but an effect of humour, Which sometime hath his hour with every man. It will not let you eat, nor talk, nor sleep, And could it work so much upon your shape As it hath much prevail'd on your condition, I should not know you, Brutus. Dear my lord, Make me acquainted with your cause of grief. BRUTUS I am not well in health, and that is all. PORTIA Brutus is wise, and, were he not in health, He would embrace the means to come by it. BRUTUS Why, so I do. Good Portia, go to bed. PORTIA Is Brutus sick? and is it physical To walk unbraced and suck up the humours Of the dank morning? What, is Brutus sick, And will he steal out of his wholesome bed, To dare the vile contagion of the night And tempt the rheumy and unpurged air To add unto his sickness? No, my Brutus; You have some sick offence within your mind, Which, by the right and virtue of my place, I ought to know of: and, upon my knees, I charm you, by my once-commended beauty, By all your vows of love and that great vow Which did incorporate and make us one, That you unfold to me, yourself, your half, Why you are heavy, and what men to-night Have had to resort to you: for here have been Some six or seven, who did hide their faces Even from darkness. BRUTUS Kneel not, gentle Portia. PORTIA I should not need, if you were gentle Brutus. Within the bond of marriage, tell me, Brutus, Is it excepted I should know no secrets That appertain to you? Am I yourself But, as it were, in sort or limitation, To keep with you at meals, comfort your bed, And talk to you sometimes? Dwell I but in the suburbs Of your good pleasure? If it be no more, Portia is Brutus' harlot, not his wife. BRUTUS You are my true and honourable wife, As dear to me as are the ruddy drops That visit my sad heart PORTIA If this were true, then should I know this secret. I grant I am a woman; but withal A woman that Lord Brutus took to wife: I grant I am a woman; but withal A woman well-reputed, Cato's daughter. Think you I am no stronger than my sex, Being so father'd and so husbanded? Tell me your counsels, I will not disclose 'em: I have made strong proof of my constancy, Giving myself a voluntary wound Here, in the thigh: can I bear that with patience. And not my husband's secrets? BRUTUS O ye gods, Render me worthy of this noble wife! [Knocking within] Hark, hark! one knocks: Portia, go in awhile; And by and by thy bosom shall partake The secrets of my heart. All my engagements I will construe to thee, All the charactery of my sad brows: Leave me with haste. [Exit PORTIA] Lucius, who's that knocks? [Re-enter LUCIUS with LIGARIUS] LUCIUS He is a sick man that would speak with you. BRUTUS Caius Ligarius, that Metellus spake of. Boy, stand aside. Caius Ligarius! how? LIGARIUS Vouchsafe good morrow from a feeble tongue. BRUTUS O, what a time have you chose out, brave Caius, To wear a kerchief! Would you were not sick! LIGARIUS I am not sick, if Brutus have in hand Any exploit worthy the name of honour. BRUTUS Such an exploit have I in hand, Ligarius, Had you a healthful ear to hear of it. LIGARIUS By all the gods that Romans bow before, I here discard my sickness! Soul of Rome! Brave son, derived from honourable loins! Thou, like an exorcist, hast conjured up My mortified spirit. Now bid me run, And I will strive with things impossible; Yea, get the better of them. What's to do? BRUTUS A piece of work that will make sick men whole. LIGARIUS But are not some whole that we must make sick? BRUTUS That must we also. What it is, my Caius, I shall unfold to thee, as we are going To whom it must be done. LIGARIUS Set on your foot, And with a heart new-fired I follow you, To do I know not what: but it sufficeth That Brutus leads me on. BRUTUS Follow me, then. [Exeunt] JULIUS CAESAR ACT II SCENE II CAESAR's house. [Thunder and lightning. Enter CAESAR, in his night-gown] CAESAR Nor heaven nor earth have been at peace to-night: Thrice hath Calpurnia in her sleep cried out, 'Help, ho! they murder Caesar!' Who's within? [Enter a Servant] Servant My lord? CAESAR Go bid the priests do present sacrifice And bring me their opinions of success. Servant I will, my lord. [Exit] [Enter CALPURNIA] CALPURNIA What mean you, Caesar? think you to walk forth? You shall not stir out of your house to-day. CAESAR Caesar shall forth: 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. CALPURNIA Caesar, I never stood on ceremonies, Yet now they fright me. 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 fought 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. O Caesar! these things are beyond all use, And I do fear them. CAESAR 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. CALPURNIA When beggars die, there are no comets seen; The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes. CAESAR Cowards die many times before their deaths; The valiant never taste of death but once. Of all the wonders that I yet have heard. It seems to me most strange that men should fear; Seeing that death, a necessary end, Will come when it will come. [Re-enter Servant] What say the augurers? Servant They would not have you to stir forth to-day. Plucking the entrails of an offering forth, They could not find a heart within the beast. CAESAR The gods do this in shame of cowardice: Caesar should be a beast without a heart, If he should stay at home to-day for fear. No, Caesar shall not: danger knows full well That Caesar is more dangerous than he: We are two lions litter'd in one day, And I the elder and more terrible: And Caesar shall go forth. CALPURNIA Alas, my lord, Your wisdom is consumed in confidence. Do not go forth to-day: call it my fear That keeps you in the house, and not your own. We'll send Mark Antony to the senate-house: And he shall say you are not well to-day: Let me, upon my knee, prevail in this. CAESAR Mark Antony shall say I am not well, And, for thy humour, I will stay at home. [Enter DECIUS BRUTUS] Here's Decius Brutus, he shall tell them so. DECIUS BRUTUS Caesar, all hail! good morrow, worthy Caesar: I come to fetch you to the senate-house. CAESAR And you are come in very happy time, To bear my greeting to the senators And tell them that I will not come to-day: Cannot, is false, and that I dare not, falser: I will not come to-day: tell them so, Decius. CALPURNIA Say he is sick. CAESAR Shall Caesar send a lie? Have I in conquest stretch'd mine arm so far, To be afraid to tell graybeards the truth? Decius, go tell them Caesar will not come. DECIUS BRUTUS Most mighty Caesar, let me know some cause, Lest I be laugh'd at when I tell them so. CAESAR The cause is in my will: I will not come; That is enough to satisfy the senate. But for your private satisfaction, Because I love you, I will let you know: Calpurnia here, my wife, stays me at home: She dreamt to-night she saw my statua, 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: And these does she apply for warnings, and portents, And evils imminent; and on her knee Hath begg'd that I will stay at home to-day. DECIUS BRUTUS This dream is all amiss interpreted; It was a vision fair and fortunate: Your statue spouting blood in many pipes, In which so many smiling Romans bathed, Signifies that from you great Rome shall suck Reviving blood, and that great men shall press For tinctures, stains, relics and cognizance. This by Calpurnia's dream is signified. CAESAR And this way have you well expounded it. DECIUS BRUTUS I have, when you have heard what I can say: And know it now: the senate have concluded To give this day a crown to mighty Caesar. If you shall send them word you will not come, Their minds may change. Besides, it were a mock Apt to be render'd, for some one to say 'Break up the senate till another time, When Caesar's wife shall meet with better dreams.' If Caesar hide himself, shall they not whisper 'Lo, Caesar is afraid'? Pardon me, Caesar; for my dear dear love To our proceeding bids me tell you this; And reason to my love is liable. CAESAR How foolish do your fears seem now, Calpurnia! I am ashamed I did yield to them. Give me my robe, for I will go. [Enter PUBLIUS, BRUTUS, LIGARIUS, METELLUS, CASCA, TREBONIUS, and CINNA] And look where Publius is come to fetch me. PUBLIUS Good morrow, Caesar. CAESAR Welcome, Publius. What, Brutus, are you stirr'd so early too? Good morrow, Casca. Caius Ligarius, Caesar was ne'er so much your enemy As that same ague which hath made you lean. What is 't o'clock? BRUTUS Caesar, 'tis strucken eight. CAESAR I thank you for your pains and courtesy. [Enter ANTONY] See! Antony, that revels long o' nights, Is notwithstanding up. Good morrow, Antony. ANTONY So to most noble Caesar. CAESAR Bid them prepare within: I am to blame to be thus waited for. Now, Cinna: now, Metellus: what, Trebonius! I have an hour's talk in store for you; Remember that you call on me to-day: Be near me, that I may remember you. TREBONIUS Caesar, I will: [Aside] and so near will I be, That your best friends shall wish I had been further. CAESAR Good friends, go in, and taste some wine with me; And we, like friends, will straightway go together. BRUTUS [Aside] That every like is not the same, O Caesar, The heart of Brutus yearns to think upon! [Exeunt] JULIUS CAESAR ACT II SCENE III A street near the Capitol. [Enter ARTEMIDORUS, reading a paper] ARTEMIDORUS 'Caesar, beware of Brutus; take heed of Cassius; come not near Casca; have an eye to Cinna, trust not Trebonius: mark well Metellus Cimber: Decius Brutus loves thee not: thou hast wronged Caius Ligarius. There is but one mind in all these men, and it is bent against Caesar. If thou beest not immortal, look about you: security gives way to conspiracy. The mighty gods defend thee! Thy lover, 'ARTEMIDORUS.' Here will I stand till Caesar pass along, And as a suitor will I give him this. My heart laments that virtue cannot live Out of the teeth of emulation. If thou read this, O Caesar, thou mayst live; If not, the Fates with traitors do contrive. [Exit] JULIUS CAESAR ACT II SCENE IV Another part of the same street, before the house of BRUTUS. [Enter PORTIA and LUCIUS] PORTIA I prithee, boy, run to the senate-house; Stay not to answer me, but get thee gone: Why dost thou stay? LUCIUS To know my errand, madam. PORTIA I would have had thee there, and here again, Ere I can tell thee what thou shouldst do there. O constancy, be strong upon my side, Set a huge mountain 'tween my heart and tongue! I have a man's mind, but a woman's might. How hard it is for women to keep counsel! Art thou here yet? LUCIUS Madam, what should I do? Run to the Capitol, and nothing else? And so return to you, and nothing else? PORTIA Yes, bring me word, boy, if thy lord look well, For he went sickly forth: and take good note What Caesar doth, what suitors press to him. Hark, boy! what noise is that? LUCIUS I hear none, madam. PORTIA Prithee, listen well; I heard a bustling rumour, like a fray, And the wind brings it from the Capitol. LUCIUS Sooth, madam, I hear nothing. [Enter the Soothsayer] PORTIA Come hither, fellow: which way hast thou been? Soothsayer At mine own house, good lady. PORTIA What is't o'clock? Soothsayer About the ninth hour, lady. PORTIA Is Caesar yet gone to the Capitol? Soothsayer Madam, not yet: I go to take my stand, To see him pass on to the Capitol. PORTIA Thou hast some suit to Caesar, hast thou not? Soothsayer That I have, lady: if it will please Caesar To be so good to Caesar as to hear me, I shall beseech him to befriend himself. PORTIA Why, know'st thou any harm's intended towards him? Soothsayer None that I know will be, much that I fear may chance. Good morrow to you. Here the street is narrow: The throng that follows Caesar at the heels, Of senators, of praetors, common suitors, Will crowd a feeble man almost to death: I'll get me to a place more void, and there Speak to great Caesar as he comes along. [Exit] PORTIA I must go in. 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: Brutus hath a suit That Caesar will not grant. O, I grow faint. Run, Lucius, and commend me to my lord; Say I am merry: come to me again, And bring me word what he doth say to thee. [Exeunt severally] JULIUS CAESAR ACT III SCENE I Rome. Before the Capitol; the Senate sitting above. [A crowd of people; among them ARTEMIDORUS and the Soothsayer. Flourish. Enter CAESAR, BRUTUS, CASSIUS, CASCA, DECIUS BRUTUS, METELLUS CIMBER, TREBONIUS, CINNA, ANTONY, LEPIDUS, POPILIUS, PUBLIUS, and others] CAESAR [To the Soothsayer] The ides of March are come. Soothsayer Ay, Caesar; but not gone. ARTEMIDORUS Hail, Caesar! read this schedule. DECIUS BRUTUS Trebonius doth desire you to o'erread, At your best leisure, this his humble suit. ARTEMIDORUS O Caesar, read mine first; for mine's a suit That touches Caesar nearer: read it, great Caesar. CAESAR What touches us ourself shall be last served. ARTEMIDORUS Delay not, Caesar; read it instantly. CAESAR What, is the fellow mad? PUBLIUS Sirrah, give place. CASSIUS What, urge you your petitions in the street? Come to the Capitol. [CAESAR goes up to the Senate-House, the rest following] POPILIUS I wish your enterprise to-day may thrive. CASSIUS What enterprise, Popilius? POPILIUS Fare you well. [Advances to CAESAR] BRUTUS What said Popilius Lena? CASSIUS He wish'd to-day our enterprise might thrive. I fear our purpose is discovered. BRUTUS Look, how he makes to Caesar; mark him. CASSIUS Casca, be sudden, for we fear prevention. Brutus, what shall be done? If this be known, Cassius or Caesar never shall turn back, For I will slay myself. BRUTUS Cassius, be constant: Popilius Lena speaks not of our purposes; For, look, he smiles, and Caesar doth not change. CASSIUS Trebonius knows his time; for, look you, Brutus. He draws Mark Antony out of the way. [Exeunt ANTONY and TREBONIUS] DECIUS BRUTUS Where is Metellus Cimber? Let him go, And presently prefer his suit to Caesar. BRUTUS He is address'd: press near and second him. CINNA Casca, you are the first that rears your hand. CAESAR Are we all ready? What is now amiss That Caesar and his senate must redress? METELLUS CIMBER Most high, most mighty, and most puissant Caesar, Metellus Cimber throws before thy seat An humble heart,-- [Kneeling] CAESAR I must prevent thee, Cimber. These couchings and these lowly courtesies Might fire the blood of ordinary men, And turn pre-ordinance and first decree Into the law of children. Be not fond, To think that Caesar bears such rebel blood That will be thaw'd from the true quality With that which melteth fools; I mean, sweet words, Low-crooked court'sies and base spaniel-fawning. Thy brother by decree is banished: If thou dost bend and pray and fawn for him, I spurn thee like a cur out of my way. Know, Caesar doth not wrong, nor without cause Will he be satisfied. METELLUS CIMBER Is there no voice more worthy than my own To sound more sweetly in great Caesar's ear For the repealing of my banish'd brother? BRUTUS I kiss thy hand, but not in flattery, Caesar; Desiring thee that Publius Cimber may Have an immediate freedom of repeal. CAESAR What, Brutus! CASSIUS Pardon, Caesar; Caesar, pardon: As low as to thy foot doth Cassius fall, To beg enfranchisement for Publius Cimber. CASSIUS 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 in the world; 'tis furnish'd well with men, And men are flesh and blood, and apprehensive; Yet in the number I do know but one That unassailable holds on his rank, Unshaked of motion: and that I am he, Let me a little show it, even in this; That I was constant Cimber should be banish'd, And constant do remain to keep him so. CINNA O Caesar,-- CAESAR Hence! wilt thou lift up Olympus? DECIUS BRUTUS Great Caesar,-- CAESAR Doth not Brutus bootless kneel? CASCA Speak, hands for me! [CASCA first, then the other Conspirators and BRUTUS stab CAESAR] CAESAR Et tu, Brute! Then fall, Caesar. [Dies] CINNA Liberty! Freedom! Tyranny is dead! Run hence, proclaim, cry it about the streets. CASSIUS Some to the common pulpits, and cry out 'Liberty, freedom, and enfranchisement!' BRUTUS People and senators, be not affrighted; Fly not; stand stiff: ambition's debt is paid. CASCA Go to the pulpit, Brutus. DECIUS BRUTUS And Cassius too. BRUTUS Where's Publius? CINNA Here, quite confounded with this mutiny. METELLUS CIMBER Stand fast together, lest some friend of Caesar's Should chance-- BRUTUS Talk not of standing. Publius, good cheer; There is no harm intended to your person, Nor to no Roman else: so tell them, Publius. CASSIUS And leave us, Publius; lest that the people, Rushing on us, should do your age some mischief. BRUTUS Do so: and let no man abide this deed, But we the doers. [Re-enter TREBONIUS] CASSIUS Where is Antony? TREBONIUS Fled to his house amazed: Men, wives and children stare, cry out and run As it were doomsday. BRUTUS Fates, we will know your pleasures: That we shall die, we know; 'tis but the time And drawing days out, that men stand upon. CASSIUS Why, he that cuts off twenty years of life Cuts off so many years of fearing death. BRUTUS Grant that, and then is death a benefit: So are we Caesar's friends, that have abridged His time of fearing death. Stoop, Romans, stoop, And let us bathe our hands in Caesar's blood Up to the elbows, and besmear our swords: Then walk we forth, even to the market-place, And, waving our red weapons o'er our heads, Let's all cry 'Peace, freedom and liberty!' CASSIUS Stoop, then, and wash. How many ages hence Shall this our lofty scene be acted over In states unborn and accents yet unknown! BRUTUS How many times shall Caesar bleed in sport, That now on Pompey's basis lies along No worthier than the dust! CASSIUS So oft as that shall be, So often shall the knot of us be call'd The men that gave their country liberty. DECIUS BRUTUS What, shall we forth? CASSIUS Ay, every man away: Brutus shall lead; and we will grace his heels With the most boldest and best hearts of Rome. [Enter a Servant] BRUTUS Soft! who comes here? A friend of Antony's. Servant Thus, Brutus, did my master bid me kneel: Thus did Mark Antony bid me fall down; And, being prostrate, thus he bade me say: Brutus is noble, wise, valiant, and honest; Caesar was mighty, bold, royal, and loving: Say I love Brutus, and I honour him; Say I fear'd Caesar, honour'd him and loved him. If Brutus will vouchsafe that Antony May safely come to him, and be resolved How Caesar hath deserved to lie in death, Mark Antony shall not love Caesar dead So well as Brutus living; but will follow The fortunes and affairs of noble Brutus Thorough the hazards of this untrod state With all true faith. So says my master Antony. BRUTUS Thy master is a wise and valiant Roman; I never thought him worse. Tell him, so please him come unto this place, He shall be satisfied; and, by my honour, Depart untouch'd. Servant I'll fetch him presently. [Exit] BRUTUS I know that we shall have him well to friend. CASSIUS I wish we may: but yet have I a mind That fears him much; and my misgiving still Falls shrewdly to the purpose. BRUTUS But here comes Antony. [Re-enter ANTONY] Welcome, Mark Antony. ANTONY O mighty Caesar! dost thou lie so low? Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils, Shrunk to this little measure? Fare thee well. I know not, gentlemen, what you intend, Who else must be let blood, who else is rank: If I myself, there is no hour so fit As Caesar's death hour, nor no instrument Of half that worth as those your swords, made rich With the most noble blood of all this world. I do beseech ye, if you bear me hard, Now, whilst your purpled hands do reek and smoke, Fulfil your pleasure. Live a thousand years, I shall not find myself so apt to die: No place will please me so, no mean of death, As here by Caesar, and by you cut off, The choice and master spirits of this age. BRUTUS 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: Our hearts you see not; they are pitiful; And pity to the general wrong of Rome-- As fire drives out fire, so pity pity-- Hath done this deed on Caesar. For your part, To you our swords have leaden points, Mark Antony: Our arms, in strength of malice, and our hearts Of brothers' temper, do receive you in With all kind love, good thoughts, and reverence. CASSIUS Your voice shall be as strong as any man's In the disposing of new dignities. BRUTUS Only be patient till we have appeased The multitude, beside themselves with fear, And then we will deliver you the cause, Why I, that did love Caesar when I struck him, Have thus proceeded. ANTONY I doubt not of your wisdom. Let each man render me his bloody hand: First, Marcus Brutus, will I shake with you; Next, Caius Cassius, do I take your hand; Now, Decius Brutus, yours: now yours, Metellus; Yours, Cinna; and, my valiant Casca, yours; Though last, not last in love, yours, good Trebonius. 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. That I did love thee, Caesar, O, 'tis true: If then thy spirit look upon us now, Shall it not grieve thee dearer than thy death, To see thy thy Anthony making his peace, Shaking the bloody fingers of thy foes, Most noble! in the presence of thy corse? Had I as many eyes as thou hast wounds, Weeping as fast as they stream forth thy blood, It would become me better than to close In terms of friendship with thine enemies. 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. How like a deer, strucken by many princes, Dost thou here lie! CASSIUS Mark Antony,-- ANTONY Pardon me, Caius Cassius: The enemies of Caesar shall say this; Then, in a friend, it is cold modesty. CASSIUS I blame you not for praising Caesar so; But what compact mean you to have with us? Will you be prick'd in number of our friends; Or shall we on, and not depend on you? ANTONY Therefore I took your hands, but was, indeed, Sway'd from the point, by looking down on Caesar. Friends am I with you all and love you all, Upon this hope, that you shall give me reasons Why and wherein Caesar was dangerous. BRUTUS Or else were this a savage spectacle: Our reasons are so full of good regard That were you, Antony, the son of Caesar, You should be satisfied. ANTONY That's all I seek: And am moreover suitor that I may Produce his body to the market-place; And in the pulpit, as becomes a friend, Speak in the order of his funeral. BRUTUS You shall, Mark Antony. CASSIUS Brutus, a word with you. [Aside to BRUTUS] You know not what you do: do not consent That Antony speak in his funeral: Know you how much the people may be moved By that which he will utter? BRUTUS By your pardon; I will myself into the pulpit first, And show the reason of our Caesar's death: What Antony shall speak, I will protest He speaks by leave and by permission, And that we are contented Caesar shall Have all true rites and lawful ceremonies. It shall advantage more than do us wrong. CASSIUS I know not what may fall; I like it not. BRUTUS Mark Antony, here, take you Caesar's body. You shall not in your funeral speech blame us, But speak all good you can devise of Caesar, And say you do't by our permission; Else shall you not have any hand at all About his funeral: and you shall speak In the same pulpit whereto I am going, After my speech is ended. ANTONY Be it so. I do desire no more. BRUTUS Prepare the body then, and follow us. [Exeunt all but ANTONY] ANTONY 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. Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood! Over thy wounds now do I prophesy,-- Which, like dumb mouths, do ope their ruby lips, To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue-- A curse shall light upon the limbs of men; Domestic fury and fierce civil strife Shall cumber all the parts of Italy; Blood and destruction shall be so in use And dreadful objects so familiar That mothers shall but smile when they behold Their infants quarter'd with the hands of war; All pity choked with custom of fell deeds: And Caesar's spirit, ranging for revenge, With Ate by his side come hot from hell, Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice Cry 'Havoc,' and let slip the dogs of war; That this foul deed shall smell above the earth With carrion men, groaning for burial. [Enter a Servant] You serve Octavius Caesar, do you not? Servant I do, Mark Antony. ANTONY Caesar did write for him to come to Rome. Servant He did receive his letters, and is coming; And bid me say to you by word of mouth-- O Caesar!-- [Seeing the body] ANTONY Thy heart is big, get thee apart and weep. Passion, I see, is catching; for mine eyes, Seeing those beads of sorrow stand in thine, Began to water. Is thy master coming? Servant He lies to-night within seven leagues of Rome. ANTONY Post back with speed, and tell him what hath chanced: Here is a mourning Rome, a dangerous Rome, No Rome of safety for Octavius yet; Hie hence, and tell him so. Yet, stay awhile; Thou shalt not back till I have borne this corse Into the market-place: 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. Lend me your hand. [Exeunt with CAESAR's body] JULIUS CAESAR ACT III SCENE II The Forum. [Enter BRUTUS and CASSIUS, and a throng of Citizens] Citizens We will be satisfied; let us be satisfied. BRUTUS Then follow me, and give me audience, friends. Cassius, go you into the other street, And part the numbers. Those that will hear me speak, let 'em stay here; Those that will follow Cassius, go with him; And public reasons shall be rendered Of Caesar's death. First Citizen I will hear Brutus speak. Second Citizen I will hear Cassius; and compare their reasons, When severally we hear them rendered. [Exit CASSIUS, with some of the Citizens. BRUTUS goes into the pulpit] Third Citizen The noble Brutus is ascended: silence! BRUTUS Be patient till the last. Romans, countrymen, and lovers! hear me for my cause, and be silent, that you may hear: believe me for mine honour, and have respect to mine honour, that you may believe: censure me in your wisdom, and awake your senses, that you may the better judge. If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of Caesar's, to him I say, that Brutus' love to Caesar was no less than his. If then that friend demand why Brutus rose against Caesar, this is my answer: --Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more. Had you rather Caesar were living and die all slaves, than that Caesar were dead, to live all free men? As Caesar loved me, I weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honour him: but, as he was ambitious, I slew him. There is tears for his love; joy for his fortune; honour for his valour; and death for his ambition. Who is here so base that would be a bondman? If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so rude that would not be a Roman? If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so vile that will not love his country? If any, speak; for him have I offended. I pause for a reply. All None, Brutus, none. BRUTUS Then none have I offended. I have done no more to Caesar than you shall do to Brutus. The question of his death is enrolled in the Capitol; his glory not extenuated, wherein he was worthy, nor his offences enforced, for which he suffered death. [Enter ANTONY and others, with CAESAR's body] Here comes his body, mourned by Mark Antony: who, though he had no hand in his death, shall receive the benefit of his dying, a place in the commonwealth; as which of you shall not? With this I depart,--that, as I slew my best lover for the good of Rome, I have the same dagger for myself, when it shall please my country to need my death. All Live, Brutus! live, live! First Citizen Bring him with triumph home unto his house. Second Citizen Give him a statue with his ancestors. Third Citizen Let him be Caesar. Fourth Citizen Caesar's better parts Shall be crown'd in Brutus. First Citizen We'll bring him to his house With shouts and clamours. BRUTUS My countrymen,-- Second Citizen Peace, silence! Brutus speaks. First Citizen Peace, ho! BRUTUS Good countrymen, let me depart alone, And, for my sake, stay here with Antony: Do grace to Caesar's corpse, and grace his speech Tending to Caesar's glories; which Mark Antony, By our permission, is allow'd to make. I do entreat you, not a man depart, Save I alone, till Antony have spoke. [Exit] First Citizen Stay, ho! and let us hear Mark Antony. Third Citizen Let him go up into the public chair; We'll hear him. Noble Antony, go up. ANTONY For Brutus' sake, I am beholding to you. [Goes into the pulpit] Fourth Citizen What does he say of Brutus? Third Citizen He says, for Brutus' sake, He finds himself beholding to us all. Fourth Citizen 'Twere best he speak no harm of Brutus here. First Citizen This Caesar was a tyrant. Third Citizen Nay, that's certain: We are blest that Rome is rid of him. Second Citizen Peace! let us hear what Antony can say. ANTONY You gentle Romans,-- Citizens Peace, ho! let us hear him. ANTONY Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears; I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. The evil that men do lives after them; The good is oft interred with their bones; So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus Hath told you Caesar was ambitious: If it were so, it was a grievous fault, And grievously hath Caesar answer'd it. Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest-- For Brutus is an honourable man; So are they all, all honourable men-- Come I to speak in Caesar's funeral. He was my friend, faithful and just to me: But Brutus says he was ambitious; And Brutus is an honourable man. He hath brought many captives home to Rome Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill: Did this in Caesar seem ambitious? When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept: Ambition should be made of sterner stuff: Yet Brutus says he was ambitious; And Brutus is an honourable man. You all did see that on the Lupercal I thrice presented him a kingly crown, Which he did thrice refuse: was this ambition? Yet Brutus says he was ambitious; And, sure, he is an honourable man. I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke, But here I am to speak what I do know. You all did love him once, not without cause: What cause withholds you then, to mourn for him? O judgment! thou art fled to brutish beasts, And men have lost their reason. Bear with me; My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar, And I must pause till it come back to me. First Citizen Methinks there is much reason in his sayings. Second Citizen If thou consider rightly of the matter, Caesar has had great wrong. Third Citizen Has he, masters? I fear there will a worse come in his place. Fourth Citizen Mark'd ye his words? He would not take the crown; Therefore 'tis certain he was not ambitious. First Citizen If it be found so, some will dear abide it. Second Citizen Poor soul! his eyes are red as fire with weeping. Third Citizen There's not a nobler man in Rome than Antony. Fourth Citizen Now mark him, he begins again to speak. ANTONY But yesterday the word of Caesar might Have stood against the world; now lies he there. And none so poor to do him reverence. O masters, if I were disposed to stir Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage, I should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong, Who, you all know, are honourable men: I will not do them wrong; I rather choose To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you, Than I will wrong such honourable men. But here's a parchment with the seal of Caesar; I found it in his closet, 'tis his will: 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. Fourth Citizen We'll hear the will: read it, Mark Antony. All The will, the will! we will hear Caesar's will. ANTONY Have patience, gentle friends, I must not read it; It is not meet you know how Caesar loved you. You are not wood, you are not stones, but men; And, being men, bearing the will of Caesar, It will inflame you, it will make you mad: 'Tis good you know not that you are his heirs; For, if you should, O, what would come of it! Fourth Citizen Read the will; we'll hear it, Antony; You shall read us the will, Caesar's will. ANTONY Will you be patient? will you stay awhile? I have o'ershot myself to tell you of it: I fear I wrong the honourable men Whose daggers have stabb'd Caesar; I do fear it. Fourth Citizen They were traitors: honourable men! All The will! the testament! Second Citizen They were villains, murderers: the will! read the will. ANTONY You will compel me, then, to read the will? Then make a ring about the corpse of Caesar, And let me show you him that made the will. Shall I descend? and will you give me leave? Several Citizens Come down. Second Citizen Descend. Third Citizen You shall have leave. [ANTONY comes down] Fourth Citizen A ring; stand round. First Citizen Stand from the hearse, stand from the body. Second Citizen Room for Antony, most noble Antony. ANTONY Nay, press not so upon me; stand far off. Several Citizens Stand back; room; bear back. ANTONY If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. You all do know this mantle: 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: Look, in this place ran Cassius' dagger through: See what a rent the envious Casca made: Through this the well-beloved Brutus stabb'd; And as he pluck'd his cursed steel away, Mark how the blood of Caesar follow'd it, As rushing out of doors, to be resolved If Brutus so unkindly knock'd, or no; For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar's angel: Judge, O you gods, how dearly Caesar loved him! This was the most unkindest cut of all; For when the noble Caesar saw him stab, Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms, Quite vanquish'd him: then burst his mighty heart; And, in his mantle muffling up his face, Even at the base of Pompey's statua, Which all the while ran blood, great Caesar fell. O, what a fall was there, my countrymen! Then I, and you, and all of us fell down, Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us. O, now you weep; and, I perceive, you feel The dint of pity: these are gracious drops. Kind souls, what, weep you when you but behold Our Caesar's vesture wounded? Look you here, Here is himself, marr'd, as you see, with traitors. First Citizen O piteous spectacle! Second Citizen O noble Caesar! Third Citizen O woful day! Fourth Citizen O traitors, villains! First Citizen O most bloody sight! Second Citizen We will be revenged. All Revenge! About! Seek! Burn! Fire! Kill! Slay! Let not a traitor live! ANTONY Stay, countrymen. First Citizen Peace there! hear the noble Antony. Second Citizen We'll hear him, we'll follow him, we'll die with him. ANTONY Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up To such a sudden flood of mutiny. They that have done this deed are honourable: What private griefs they have, alas, I know not, That made them do it: they are wise and honourable, And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you. I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts: I am no orator, as Brutus is; But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man, That love my friend; and that they know full well That gave me public leave to speak of him: For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech, To stir men's blood: I only speak right on; I tell you that which you yourselves do know; Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor 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. All We'll mutiny. First Citizen We'll burn the house of Brutus. Third Citizen Away, then! come, seek the conspirators. ANTONY Yet hear me, countrymen; yet hear me speak. All Peace, ho! Hear Antony. Most noble Antony! ANTONY Why, friends, you go to do you know not what: Wherein hath Caesar thus deserved your loves? Alas, you know not: I must tell you then: You have forgot the will I told you of. All Most true. The will! Let's stay and hear the will. ANTONY Here is the will, and under Caesar's seal. To every Roman citizen he gives, To every several man, seventy-five drachmas. Second Citizen Most noble Caesar! We'll revenge his death. Third Citizen O royal Caesar! ANTONY Hear me with patience. All Peace, ho! ANTONY Moreover, he hath left you all his walks, His private arbours and new-planted orchards, On this side Tiber; he hath left them you, And to your heirs for ever, common pleasures, To walk abroad, and recreate yourselves. Here was a Caesar! when comes such another? First Citizen Never, never. Come, away, away! We'll burn his body in the holy place, And with the brands fire the traitors' houses. Take up the body. Second Citizen Go fetch fire. Third Citizen Pluck down benches. Fourth Citizen Pluck down forms, windows, any thing. [Exeunt Citizens with the body] ANTONY Now let it work. Mischief, thou art afoot, Take thou what course thou wilt! [Enter a Servant] How now, fellow! Servant Sir, Octavius is already come to Rome. ANTONY Where is he? Servant He and Lepidus are at Caesar's house. ANTONY And thither will I straight to visit him: He comes upon a wish. Fortune is merry, And in this mood will give us any thing. Servant I heard him say, Brutus and Cassius Are rid like madmen through the gates of Rome. ANTONY Belike they had some notice of the people, How I had moved them. Bring me to Octavius. [Exeunt] JULIUS CAESAR ACT III SCENE III A street. [Enter CINNA the poet] CINNA THE POET I dreamt to-night that I did feast with Caesar, And things unlucky charge my fantasy: I have no will to wander forth of doors, Yet something leads me forth. [Enter Citizens] First Citizen What is your name? Second Citizen Whither are you going? Third Citizen Where do you dwell? Fourth Citizen Are you a married man or a bachelor? Second Citizen Answer every man directly. First Citizen Ay, and briefly. Fourth Citizen Ay, and wisely. Third Citizen Ay, and truly, you were best. CINNA THE POET What is my name? Whither am I going? Where do I dwell? Am I a married man or a bachelor? Then, to answer every man directly and briefly, wisely and truly: wisely I say, I am a bachelor. Second Citizen That's as much as to say, they are fools that marry: you'll bear me a bang for that, I fear. Proceed; directly. CINNA THE POET Directly, I am going to Caesar's funeral. First Citizen As a friend or an enemy? CINNA THE POET As a friend. Second Citizen That matter is answered directly. Fourth Citizen For your dwelling,--briefly. CINNA THE POET Briefly, I dwell by the Capitol. Third Citizen Your name, sir, truly. CINNA THE POET Truly, my name is Cinna. First Citizen Tear him to pieces; he's a conspirator. CINNA THE POET I am Cinna the poet, I am Cinna the poet. Fourth Citizen Tear him for his bad verses, tear him for his bad verses. CINNA THE POET I am not Cinna the conspirator. Fourth Citizen It is no matter, his name's Cinna; pluck but his name out of his heart, and turn him going. Third Citizen Tear him, tear him! Come, brands ho! fire-brands: to Brutus', to Cassius'; burn all: some to Decius' house, and some to Casca's; some to Ligarius': away, go! [Exeunt] JULIUS CAESAR ACT IV SCENE I A house in Rome. [ANTONY, OCTAVIUS, and LEPIDUS, seated at a table] ANTONY These many, then, shall die; their names are prick'd. OCTAVIUS Your brother too must die; consent you, Lepidus? LEPIDUS I do consent-- OCTAVIUS Prick him down, Antony. LEPIDUS Upon condition Publius shall not live, Who is your sister's son, Mark Antony. ANTONY He shall not live; look, with a spot I damn him. But, Lepidus, go you to Caesar's house; Fetch the will hither, and we shall determine How to cut off some charge in legacies. LEPIDUS What, shall I find you here? OCTAVIUS Or here, or at the Capitol. [Exit LEPIDUS] ANTONY This is a slight unmeritable man, Meet to be sent on errands: is it fit, The three-fold world divided, he should stand One of the three to share it? OCTAVIUS So you thought him; And took his voice who should be prick'd to die, In our black sentence and proscription. ANTONY Octavius, I have seen more days than you: And though we lay these honours on this man, To ease ourselves of divers slanderous loads, He shall but bear them as the ass bears gold, To groan and sweat under the business, Either led or driven, as we point the way; And having brought our treasure where we will, Then take we down his load, and turn him off, Like to the empty ass, to shake his ears, And graze in commons. OCTAVIUS You may do your will; But he's a tried and valiant soldier. ANTONY So is my horse, Octavius; and for that I do appoint him store of provender: It is a creature that I teach to fight, To wind, to stop, to run directly on, His corporal motion govern'd by my spirit. And, in some taste, is Lepidus but so; He must be taught and train'd and bid go forth; A barren-spirited fellow; one that feeds On abjects, orts and imitations, Which, out of use and staled by other men, Begin his fashion: do not talk of him, But as a property. And now, Octavius, Listen great things:--Brutus and Cassius Are levying powers: we must straight make head: Therefore let our alliance be combined, Our best friends made, our means stretch'd And let us presently go sit in council, How covert matters may be best disclosed, And open perils surest answered. OCTAVIUS Let us do so: for we are at the stake, And bay'd about with many enemies; And some that smile have in their hearts, I fear, Millions of mischiefs. [Exeunt] JULIUS CAESAR ACT IV SCENE II Camp near Sardis. Before BRUTUS's tent. [Drum. Enter BRUTUS, LUCILIUS, LUCIUS, and Soldiers; TITINIUS and PINDARUS meeting them] BRUTUS Stand, ho! LUCILIUS Give the word, ho! and stand. BRUTUS What now, Lucilius! is Cassius near? LUCILIUS He is at hand; and Pindarus is come To do you salutation from his master. BRUTUS He greets me well. Your master, Pindarus, In his own change, or by ill officers, Hath given me some worthy cause to wish Things done, undone: but, if he be at hand, I shall be satisfied. PINDARUS I do not doubt But that my noble master will appear Such as he is, full of regard and honour. BRUTUS He is not doubted. A word, Lucilius; How he received you, let me be resolved. LUCILIUS With courtesy and with respect enough; But not with such familiar instances, Nor with such free and friendly conference, As he hath used of old. BRUTUS Thou hast described A hot friend cooling: ever note, Lucilius, When love begins to sicken and decay, It useth an enforced ceremony. 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. Comes his army on? LUCILIUS They mean this night in Sardis to be quarter'd; The greater part, the horse in general, Are come with Cassius. BRUTUS Hark! he is arrived. [Low march within] March gently on to meet him. [Enter CASSIUS and his powers] CASSIUS Stand, ho! BRUTUS Stand, ho! Speak the word along. First Soldier Stand! Second Soldier Stand! Third Soldier Stand! CASSIUS Most noble brother, you have done me wrong. BRUTUS Judge me, you gods! wrong I mine enemies? And, if not so, how should I wrong a brother? CASSIUS Brutus, this sober form of yours hides wrongs; And when you do them-- BRUTUS Cassius, be content. Speak your griefs softly: I do know you well. Before the eyes of both our armies here, Which should perceive nothing but love from us, Let us not wrangle: bid them move away; Then in my tent, Cassius, enlarge your griefs, And I will give you audience. CASSIUS Pindarus, Bid our commanders lead their charges off A little from this ground. BRUTUS Lucilius, do you the like; and let no man Come to our tent till we have done our conference. Let Lucius and Titinius guard our door. [Exeunt] JULIUS CAESAR ACT IV SCENE III Brutus's tent. [Enter BRUTUS and CASSIUS] CASSIUS That you have wrong'd me doth appear in this: 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. BRUTUS You wronged yourself to write in such a case. CASSIUS In such a time as this it is not meet That every nice offence should bear his comment. BRUTUS Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself Are much condemn'd to have an itching palm; To sell and mart your offices for gold To undeservers. CASSIUS I an itching palm! You know that you are Brutus that speak this, Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last. BRUTUS The name of Cassius honours this corruption, And chastisement doth therefore hide his head. CASSIUS Chastisement! BRUTUS Remember March, the ides of March remember: Did not great Julius bleed for justice' sake? What villain touch'd his body, that did stab, And not for justice? What, shall one of us That struck the foremost man of all this world But for supporting robbers, shall we now Contaminate our fingers with base bribes, And sell the mighty space of our large honours For so much trash as may be grasped thus? I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon, Than such a Roman. CASSIUS Brutus, bay not me; I'll not endure it: you forget yourself, To hedge me in; I am a soldier, I, Older in practise, abler than yourself To make conditions. BRUTUS Go to; you are not, Cassius. CASSIUS I am. BRUTUS I say you are not. CASSIUS Urge me no more, I shall forget myself; Have mind upon your health, tempt me no further. BRUTUS Away, slight man! CASSIUS Is't possible? BRUTUS Hear me, for I will speak. Must I give way and room to your rash choler? Shall I be frighted when a madman stares? CASSIUS O ye gods, ye gods! must I endure all this? BRUTUS All this! ay, more: fret till your proud heart break; Go show your slaves how choleric you are, And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge? Must I observe you? must I stand and crouch Under your testy humour? By the gods You shall digest the venom of your spleen, Though it do split you; for, from this day forth, I'll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter, When you are waspish. CASSIUS Is it come to this? BRUTUS You say you are a better soldier: Let it appear so; make your vaunting true, And it shall please me well: for mine own part, I shall be glad to learn of noble men. CASSIUS You wrong me every way; you wrong me, Brutus; I said, an elder soldier, not a better: Did I say 'better'? BRUTUS If you did, I care not. CASSIUS When Caesar lived, he durst not thus have moved me. BRUTUS Peace, peace! you durst not so have tempted him. CASSIUS I durst not! BRUTUS No. CASSIUS What, durst not tempt him! BRUTUS For your life you durst not! CASSIUS Do not presume too much upon my love; I may do that I shall be sorry for. BRUTUS You have done that you should be sorry for. There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats, For I am arm'd so strong in honesty That they pass by me as the idle wind, Which I respect not. I did send to you For certain sums of gold, which you denied me: For I can raise no money by vile means: By heaven, I had rather coin my heart, And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash By any indirection: I did send To you for gold to pay my legions, Which you denied me: was that done like Cassius? Should I have answer'd Caius Cassius so? When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous, To lock such rascal counters from his friends, Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts; Dash him to pieces! CASSIUS I denied you not. BRUTUS You did. CASSIUS I did not: he was but a fool that brought My answer back. Brutus hath rived my heart: A friend should bear his friend's infirmities, But Brutus makes mine greater than they are. BRUTUS I do not, till you practise them on me. CASSIUS You love me not. BRUTUS I do not like your faults. CASSIUS A friendly eye could never see such faults. BRUTUS A flatterer's would not, though they do appear As huge as high Olympus. CASSIUS Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come, Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius, For Cassius is aweary of the world; Hated by one he loves; braved by his brother; Cheque'd like a bondman; all his faults observed, Set in a note-book, learn'd, and conn'd by rote, To cast into my teeth. O, I could weep My spirit from mine eyes! There is my dagger, And here my naked breast; within, a heart Dearer than Plutus' mine, richer than gold: If that thou be'st a Roman, take it forth; I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart: Strike, as thou didst at Caesar; for, I know, When thou didst hate him worst, thou lovedst him better Than ever thou lovedst Cassius. BRUTUS Sheathe your dagger: Be angry when you will, it shall have scope; Do what you will, dishonour shall be humour. O Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb That carries anger as the flint bears fire; Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark, And straight is cold again. CASSIUS Hath Cassius lived To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus, When grief, and blood ill-temper'd, vexeth him? BRUTUS When I spoke that, I was ill-temper'd too. CASSIUS Do you confess so much? Give me your hand. BRUTUS And my heart too. CASSIUS O Brutus! BRUTUS What's the matter? CASSIUS Have not you love enough to bear with me, When that rash humour which my mother gave me Makes me forgetful? BRUTUS Yes, Cassius; and, from henceforth, When you are over-earnest with your Brutus, He'll think your mother chides, and leave you so. Poet [Within] Let me go in to see the generals; There is some grudge between 'em, 'tis not meet They be alone. LUCILIUS [Within] You shall not come to them. Poet [Within] Nothing but death shall stay me. [Enter Poet, followed by LUCILIUS, TITINIUS, and LUCIUS] CASSIUS How now! what's the matter? Poet For shame, you generals! what do you mean? Love, and be friends, as two such men should be; For I have seen more years, I'm sure, than ye. CASSIUS Ha, ha! how vilely doth this cynic rhyme! BRUTUS Get you hence, sirrah; saucy fellow, hence! CASSIUS Bear with him, Brutus; 'tis his fashion. BRUTUS I'll know his humour, when he knows his time: What should the wars do with these jigging fools? Companion, hence! CASSIUS Away, away, be gone. [Exit Poet] BRUTUS Lucilius and Titinius, bid the commanders Prepare to lodge their companies to-night. CASSIUS And come yourselves, and bring Messala with you Immediately to us. [Exeunt LUCILIUS and TITINIUS] BRUTUS Lucius, a bowl of wine! [Exit LUCIUS] CASSIUS I did not think you could have been so angry. BRUTUS O Cassius, I am sick of many griefs. CASSIUS Of your philosophy you make no use, If you give place to accidental evils. BRUTUS No man bears sorrow better. Portia is dead. CASSIUS Ha! Portia! BRUTUS She is dead. CASSIUS How 'scaped I killing when I cross'd you so? O insupportable and touching loss! Upon what sickness? BRUTUS Impatient of my absence, And grief that young Octavius with Mark Antony Have made themselves so strong:--for with her death That tidings came;--with this she fell distract, And, her attendants absent, swallow'd fire. CASSIUS And died so? BRUTUS Even so. CASSIUS O ye immortal gods! [Re-enter LUCIUS, with wine and taper] BRUTUS Speak no more of her. Give me a bowl of wine. In this I bury all unkindness, Cassius. CASSIUS My heart is thirsty for that noble pledge. Fill, Lucius, till the wine o'erswell the cup; I cannot drink too much of Brutus' love. BRUTUS Come in, Titinius! [Exit LUCIUS] [Re-enter TITINIUS, with MESSALA] Welcome, good Messala. Now sit we close about this taper here, And call in question our necessities. CASSIUS Portia, art thou gone? BRUTUS No more, I pray you. 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. MESSALA Myself have letters of the selfsame tenor. BRUTUS With what addition? MESSALA That by proscription and bills of outlawry, Octavius, Antony, and Lepidus, Have put to death an hundred senators. BRUTUS Therein our letters do not well agree; Mine speak of seventy senators that died By their proscriptions, Cicero being one. CASSIUS Cicero one! MESSALA Cicero is dead, And by that order of proscription. Had you your letters from your wife, my lord? BRUTUS No, Messala. MESSALA Nor nothing in your letters writ of her? BRUTUS Nothing, Messala. MESSALA That, methinks, is strange. BRUTUS Why ask you? hear you aught of her in yours? MESSALA No, my lord. BRUTUS Now, as you are a Roman, tell me true. MESSALA Then like a Roman bear the truth I tell: For certain she is dead, and by strange manner. BRUTUS Why, farewell, Portia. We must die, Messala: With meditating that she must die once, I have the patience to endure it now. MESSALA Even so great men great losses should endure. CASSIUS I have as much of this in art as you, But yet my nature could not bear it so. BRUTUS Well, to our work alive. What do you think Of marching to Philippi presently? CASSIUS I do not think it good. BRUTUS Your reason? CASSIUS This it is: 'Tis better that the enemy seek us: So shall he waste his means, weary his soldiers, Doing himself offence; whilst we, lying still, Are full of rest, defense, and nimbleness. BRUTUS Good reasons must, of force, give place to better. 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. CASSIUS Hear me, good brother. BRUTUS Under your pardon. You must note beside, That we have tried the utmost of our friends, Our legions are brim-full, our cause is ripe: The enemy increaseth every day; We, at the height, are ready to decline. There is a tide in the affairs of men, Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; Omitted, all the voyage of their life Is bound in shallows and in miseries. On such a full sea are we now afloat; And we must take the current when it serves, Or lose our ventures. CASSIUS Then, with your will, go on; We'll along ourselves, and meet them at Philippi. BRUTUS The deep of night is crept upon our talk, And nature must obey necessity; Which we will niggard with a little rest. There is no more to say? CASSIUS No more. Good night: Early to-morrow will we rise, and hence. BRUTUS Lucius! [Enter LUCIUS] My gown. [Exit LUCIUS] Farewell, good Messala: Good night, Titinius. Noble, noble Cassius, Good night, and good repose. CASSIUS O my dear brother! This was an ill beginning of the night: Never come such division 'tween our souls! Let it not, Brutus. BRUTUS Every thing is well. CASSIUS Good night, my lord. BRUTUS Good night, good brother. TITINIUS | | Good night, Lord Brutus. MESSALA | BRUTUS Farewell, every one. [Exeunt all but BRUTUS] [Re-enter LUCIUS, with the gown] Give me the gown. Where is thy instrument? LUCIUS Here in the tent. BRUTUS What, thou speak'st drowsily? Poor knave, I blame thee not; thou art o'er-watch'd. Call Claudius and some other of my men: I'll have them sleep on cushions in my tent. LUCIUS Varro and Claudius! [Enter VARRO and CLAUDIUS] VARRO Calls my lord? BRUTUS 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. VARRO So please you, we will stand and watch your pleasure. BRUTUS I will not have it so: lie down, good sirs; It may be I shall otherwise bethink me. Look, Lucius, here's the book I sought for so; I put it in the pocket of my gown. [VARRO and CLAUDIUS lie down] LUCIUS I was sure your lordship did not give it me. BRUTUS Bear with me, good boy, I am much forgetful. Canst thou hold up thy heavy eyes awhile, And touch thy instrument a strain or two? LUCIUS Ay, my lord, an't please you. BRUTUS It does, my boy: I trouble thee too much, but thou art willing. LUCIUS It is my duty, sir. BRUTUS I should not urge thy duty past thy might; I know young bloods look for a time of rest. LUCIUS I have slept, my lord, already. BRUTUS It was well done; and thou shalt sleep again; I will not hold thee long: if I do live, I will be good to thee. [Music, and a song] This is a sleepy tune. O murderous slumber, Lay'st thou thy leaden mace upon my boy, That plays thee music? Gentle knave, good night; I will not do thee so much wrong to wake thee: If thou dost nod, thou break'st thy instrument; I'll take it from thee; and, good boy, good night. Let me see, let me see; is not the leaf turn'd down Where I left reading? Here it is, I think. [Enter the Ghost of CAESAR] How ill this taper burns! Ha! who comes here? I think it is the weakness of mine eyes That shapes this monstrous apparition. It comes upon me. Art thou any thing? Art thou some god, some angel, or some devil, That makest my blood cold and my hair to stare? Speak to me what thou art. GHOST Thy evil spirit, Brutus. BRUTUS Why comest thou? GHOST To tell thee thou shalt see me at Philippi. BRUTUS Well; then I shall see thee again? GHOST Ay, at Philippi. BRUTUS Why, I will see thee at Philippi, then. [Exit Ghost] Now I have taken heart thou vanishest: Ill spirit, I would hold more talk with thee. Boy, Lucius! Varro! Claudius! Sirs, awake! Claudius! LUCIUS The strings, my lord, are false. BRUTUS He thinks he still is at his instrument. Lucius, awake! LUCIUS My lord? BRUTUS Didst thou dream, Lucius, that thou so criedst out? LUCIUS My lord, I do not know that I did cry. BRUTUS Yes, that thou didst: didst thou see any thing? LUCIUS Nothing, my lord. BRUTUS Sleep again, Lucius. Sirrah Claudius! [To VARRO] Fellow thou, awake! VARRO My lord? CLAUDIUS My lord? BRUTUS Why did you so cry out, sirs, in your sleep? VARRO | | Did we, my lord? CLAUDIUS | BRUTUS Ay: saw you any thing? VARRO No, my lord, I saw nothing. CLAUDIUS Nor I, my lord. BRUTUS Go and commend me to my brother Cassius; Bid him set on his powers betimes before, And we will follow. VARRO | | It shall be done, my lord. CLAUDIUS | [Exeunt] JULIUS CAESAR ACT V SCENE I The plains of Philippi. [Enter OCTAVIUS, ANTONY, and their army] OCTAVIUS Now, Antony, our hopes are answered: You said the enemy would not come down, But keep the hills and upper regions; It proves not so: their battles are at hand; They mean to warn us at Philippi here, Answering before we do demand of them. ANTONY Tut, I am in their bosoms, and I know Wherefore they do it: they could be content To visit other places; and come down With fearful bravery, thinking by this face To fasten in our thoughts that they have courage; But 'tis not so. [Enter a Messenger] Messenger Prepare you, generals: The enemy comes on in gallant show; Their bloody sign of battle is hung out, And something to be done immediately. ANTONY Octavius, lead your battle softly on, Upon the left hand of the even field. OCTAVIUS Upon the right hand I; keep thou the left. ANTONY Why do you cross me in this exigent? OCTAVIUS I do not cross you; but I will do so. [March] [Drum. Enter BRUTUS, CASSIUS, and their Army; LUCILIUS, TITINIUS, MESSALA, and others] BRUTUS They stand, and would have parley. CASSIUS Stand fast, Titinius: we must out and talk. OCTAVIUS Mark Antony, shall we give sign of battle? ANTONY No, Caesar, we will answer on their charge. Make forth; the generals would have some words. OCTAVIUS Stir not until the signal. BRUTUS Words before blows: is it so, countrymen? OCTAVIUS Not that we love words better, as you do. BRUTUS Good words are better than bad strokes, Octavius. ANTONY In your bad strokes, Brutus, you give good words: Witness the hole you made in Caesar's heart, Crying 'Long live! hail, Caesar!' CASSIUS Antony, The posture of your blows are yet unknown; But for your words, they rob the Hybla bees, And leave them honeyless. ANTONY Not stingless too. BRUTUS O, yes, and soundless too; For you have stol'n their buzzing, Antony, And very wisely threat before you sting. ANTONY 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 Struck Caesar on the neck. O you flatterers! CASSIUS Flatterers! Now, Brutus, thank yourself: This tongue had not offended so to-day, If Cassius might have ruled. OCTAVIUS Come, come, the cause: if arguing make us sweat, The proof of it will turn to redder drops. 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. BRUTUS Caesar, thou canst not die by traitors' hands, Unless thou bring'st them with thee. OCTAVIUS So I hope; I was not born to die on Brutus' sword. BRUTUS O, if thou wert the noblest of thy strain, Young man, thou couldst not die more honourable. CASSIUS A peevish schoolboy, worthless of such honour, Join'd with a masker and a reveller! ANTONY Old Cassius still! OCTAVIUS Come, Antony, away! Defiance, traitors, hurl we in your teeth: If you dare fight to-day, come to the field; If not, when you have stomachs. [Exeunt OCTAVIUS, ANTONY, and their army] CASSIUS Why, now, blow wind, swell billow and swim bark! The storm is up, and all is on the hazard. BRUTUS Ho, Lucilius! hark, a word with you. LUCILIUS [Standing forth] My lord? [BRUTUS and LUCILIUS converse apart] CASSIUS Messala! MESSALA [Standing forth] What says my general? CASSIUS Messala, This is my birth-day; as this very day Was Cassius born. Give me thy hand, Messala: Be thou my witness that against my will, As Pompey was, am I compell'd to set Upon one battle all our liberties. You know that I held Epicurus strong And his opinion: now I change my mind, And partly credit things that do presage. Coming from Sardis, on our former ensign Two mighty eagles fell, and there they perch'd, Gorging and feeding from our soldiers' hands; Who to Philippi here consorted us: This morning are they fled away and gone; And in their steads do ravens, crows and kites, Fly o'er our heads and downward look on us, As we were sickly prey: their shadows seem A canopy most fatal, under which Our army lies, ready to give up the ghost. MESSALA Believe not so. CASSIUS I but believe it partly; For I am fresh of spirit and resolved To meet all perils very constantly. BRUTUS Even so, Lucilius. CASSIUS Now, most noble Brutus, The gods to-day 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. If we do lose this battle, then is this The very last time we shall speak together: What are you then determined to do? BRUTUS Even by the rule of that philosophy By which I did blame Cato for the death Which he did give himself, I know not how, But I do find it cowardly and vile, For fear of what might fall, so to prevent The time of life: arming myself with patience To stay the providence of some high powers That govern us below. CASSIUS Then, if we lose this battle, You are contented to be led in triumph Thorough the streets of Rome? BRUTUS No, Cassius, no: think not, thou noble Roman, That ever Brutus will go bound to Rome; He bears too great a mind. But this same day Must end that work the ides of March begun; And whether we shall meet again I know not. Therefore our everlasting farewell take: For ever, and for ever, farewell, Cassius! If we do meet again, why, we shall smile; If not, why then, this parting was well made. CASSIUS For ever, and for ever, farewell, Brutus! If we do meet again, we'll smile indeed; If not, 'tis true this parting was well made. BRUTUS Why, then, lead on. 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. Come, ho! away! [Exeunt] JULIUS CAESAR ACT V SCENE II The same. The field of battle. [Alarum. Enter BRUTUS and MESSALA] BRUTUS Ride, ride, Messala, ride, and give these bills Unto the legions on the other side. [Loud alarum] Let them set on at once; for I perceive But cold demeanor in Octavius' wing, And sudden push gives them the overthrow. Ride, ride, Messala: let them all come down. [Exeunt] JULIUS CAESAR ACT V SCENE III Another part of the field. [Alarums. Enter CASSIUS and TITINIUS] CASSIUS O, look, Titinius, look, the villains fly! Myself have to mine own turn'd enemy: This ensign here of mine was turning back; I slew the coward, and did take it from him. TITINIUS O Cassius, Brutus gave the word too early; Who, having some advantage on Octavius, Took it too eagerly: his soldiers fell to spoil, Whilst we by Antony are all enclosed. [Enter PINDARUS] PINDARUS Fly further off, my lord, fly further off; Mark Antony is in your tents, my lord Fly, therefore, noble Cassius, fly far off. CASSIUS This hill is far enough. Look, look, Titinius; Are those my tents where I perceive the fire? TITINIUS They are, my lord. CASSIUS 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. TITINIUS I will be here again, even with a thought. [Exit] CASSIUS Go, Pindarus, get higher on that hill; My sight was ever thick; regard Titinius, And tell me what thou notest about the field. [PINDARUS ascends the hill] This day I breathed first: time is come round, And where I did begin, there shall I end; My life is run his compass. Sirrah, what news? PINDARUS [Above] O my lord! CASSIUS What news? PINDARUS [Above] Titinius is enclosed round about With horsemen, that make to him on the spur; Yet he spurs on. Now they are almost on him. Now, Titinius! Now some light. O, he lights too. He's ta'en. [Shout] And, hark! they shout for joy. CASSIUS Come down, behold no more. O, coward that I am, to live so long, To see my best friend ta'en before my face! [PINDARUS descends] Come hither, sirrah: In Parthia did I take thee prisoner; And then I swore thee, saving of thy life, That whatsoever I did bid thee do, Thou shouldst attempt it. Come now, keep thine oath; Now be a freeman: and with this good sword, That ran through Caesar's bowels, search this bosom. Stand not to answer: 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. [Dies] PINDARUS So, I am free; yet would not so have been, Durst I have done my will. O Cassius, Far from this country Pindarus shall run, Where never Roman shall take note of him. [Exit] [Re-enter TITINIUS with MESSALA] MESSALA It is but change, Titinius; for Octavius Is overthrown by noble Brutus' power, As Cassius' legions are by Antony. TITINIUS These tidings will well comfort Cassius. MESSALA Where did you leave him? TITINIUS All disconsolate, With Pindarus his bondman, on this hill. MESSALA Is not that he that lies upon the ground? TITINIUS He lies not like the living. O my heart! MESSALA Is not that he? TITINIUS No, this was he, Messala, But Cassius is no more. O setting sun, As in thy red rays thou dost sink to-night, So in his red blood Cassius' day is set; The sun of Rome is set! Our day is gone; Clouds, dews, and dangers come; our deeds are done! Mistrust of my success hath done this deed. MESSALA Mistrust of good success hath done this deed. O hateful error, melancholy's child, Why dost thou show to the apt thoughts of men The things that are not? O error, soon conceived, Thou never comest unto a happy birth, But kill'st the mother that engender'd thee! TITINIUS What, Pindarus! where art thou, Pindarus? MESSALA Seek him, Titinius, whilst I go to meet The noble Brutus, thrusting this report Into his ears; I may say, thrusting it; For piercing steel and darts envenomed Shall be as welcome to the ears of Brutus As tidings of this sight. TITINIUS Hie you, Messala, And I will seek for Pindarus the while. [Exit MESSALA] Why didst thou send me forth, brave Cassius? Did I not meet thy friends? and did not they Put on my brows this wreath of victory, And bid me give it thee? Didst thou not hear their shouts? Alas, thou hast misconstrued every thing! But, hold thee, take this garland on thy brow; Thy Brutus bid me give it thee, and I Will do his bidding. Brutus, come apace, And see how I regarded Caius Cassius. By your leave, gods:--this is a Roman's part Come, Cassius' sword, and find Titinius' heart. [Kills himself] [Alarum. Re-enter MESSALA, with BRUTUS, CATO, STRATO, VOLUMNIUS, and LUCILIUS] BRUTUS Where, where, Messala, doth his body lie? MESSALA Lo, yonder, and Titinius mourning it. BRUTUS Titinius' face is upward. CATO He is slain. BRUTUS O Julius Caesar, thou art mighty yet! Thy spirit walks abroad and turns our swords In our own proper entrails. [Low alarums] CATO Brave Titinius! Look, whether he have not crown'd dead Cassius! BRUTUS Are yet two Romans living such as these? The last of all the Romans, fare thee well! It is impossible that ever Rome Should breed thy fellow. Friends, I owe more tears To this dead man than you shall see me pay. I shall find time, Cassius, I shall find time. Come, therefore, and to Thasos send his body: His funerals shall not be in our camp, Lest it discomfort us. Lucilius, come; And come, young Cato; let us to the field. Labeo and Flavius, set our battles on: 'Tis three o'clock; and, Romans, yet ere night We shall try fortune in a second fight. [Exeunt] JULIUS CAESAR ACT V SCENE IV Another part of the field. [Alarum. Enter fighting, Soldiers of both armies; then BRUTUS, CATO, LUCILIUS, and others] BRUTUS Yet, countrymen, O, yet hold up your heads! CATO What bastard doth not? Who will go with me? I will proclaim my name about the field: I am the son of Marcus Cato, ho! A foe to tyrants, and my country's friend; I am the son of Marcus Cato, ho! BRUTUS And I am Brutus, Marcus Brutus, I; Brutus, my country's friend; know me for Brutus! [Exit] LUCILIUS O young and noble Cato, art thou down? Why, now thou diest as bravely as Titinius; And mayst be honour'd, being Cato's son. First Soldier Yield, or thou diest. LUCILIUS Only I yield to die: There is so much that thou wilt kill me straight; [Offering money] Kill Brutus, and be honour'd in his death. First Soldier We must not. A noble prisoner! Second Soldier Room, ho! Tell Antony, Brutus is ta'en. First Soldier I'll tell the news. Here comes the general. [Enter ANTONY] Brutus is ta'en, Brutus is ta'en, my lord. ANTONY Where is he? LUCILIUS Safe, Antony; Brutus is safe enough: I dare assure thee that no enemy Shall ever take alive the noble Brutus: The gods defend him from so great a shame! When you do find him, or alive or dead, He will be found like Brutus, like himself. ANTONY This is not Brutus, friend; but, I assure you, A prize no less in worth: keep this man safe; Give him all kindness: I had rather have Such men my friends than enemies. Go on, And see whether Brutus be alive or dead; And bring us word unto Octavius' tent How every thing is chanced. [Exeunt] JULIUS CAESAR ACT V SCENE V Another part of the field. [Enter BRUTUS, DARDANIUS, CLITUS, STRATO, and VOLUMNIUS] BRUTUS Come, poor remains of friends, rest on this rock. CLITUS Statilius show'd the torch-light, but, my lord, He came not back: he is or ta'en or slain. BRUTUS Sit thee down, Clitus: slaying is the word; It is a deed in fashion. Hark thee, Clitus. [Whispers] CLITUS What, I, my lord? No, not for all the world. BRUTUS Peace then! no words. CLITUS I'll rather kill myself. BRUTUS Hark thee, Dardanius. [Whispers] DARDANIUS Shall I do such a deed? CLITUS O Dardanius! DARDANIUS O Clitus! CLITUS What ill request did Brutus make to thee? DARDANIUS To kill him, Clitus. Look, he meditates. CLITUS Now is that noble vessel full of grief, That it runs over even at his eyes. BRUTUS Come hither, good Volumnius; list a word. VOLUMNIUS What says my lord? BRUTUS Why, this, Volumnius: The ghost of Caesar hath appear'd to me Two several times by night; at Sardis once, And, this last night, here in Philippi fields: I know my hour is come. VOLUMNIUS Not so, my lord. BRUTUS Nay, I am sure it is, Volumnius. Thou seest the world, Volumnius, how it goes; Our enemies have beat us to the pit: [Low alarums] It is more worthy to leap in ourselves, Than tarry till they push us. Good Volumnius, Thou know'st that we two went to school together: Even for that our love of old, I prithee, Hold thou my sword-hilts, whilst I run on it. VOLUMNIUS That's not an office for a friend, my lord. [Alarum still] CLITUS Fly, fly, my lord; there is no tarrying here. BRUTUS Farewell to you; and you; and you, Volumnius. Strato, thou hast been all this while asleep; Farewell to thee too, Strato. Countrymen, My heart doth joy that yet in all my life I found no man but he was true to me. I shall have glory by this losing day More than Octavius and Mark Antony By this vile conquest shall attain unto. So fare you well at once; for Brutus' tongue Hath almost ended his life's history: Night hangs upon mine eyes; my bones would rest, That have but labour'd to attain this hour. [Alarum. Cry within, 'Fly, fly, fly!'] CLITUS Fly, my lord, fly. BRUTUS Hence! I will follow. [Exeunt CLITUS, DARDANIUS, and VOLUMNIUS] I prithee, Strato, stay thou by thy lord: Thou art a fellow of a good respect; Thy life hath had some smatch of honour in it: Hold then my sword, and turn away thy face, While I do run upon it. Wilt thou, Strato? STRATO Give me your hand first. Fare you well, my lord. BRUTUS Farewell, good Strato. [Runs on his sword] Caesar, now be still: I kill'd not thee with half so good a will. [Dies] [Alarum. Retreat. Enter OCTAVIUS, ANTONY, MESSALA, LUCILIUS, and the army] OCTAVIUS What man is that? MESSALA My master's man. Strato, where is thy master? STRATO Free from the bondage you are in, Messala: The conquerors can but make a fire of him; For Brutus only overcame himself, And no man else hath honour by his death. LUCILIUS So Brutus should be found. I thank thee, Brutus, That thou hast proved Lucilius' saying true. OCTAVIUS All that served Brutus, I will entertain them. Fellow, wilt thou bestow thy time with me? STRATO Ay, if Messala will prefer me to you. OCTAVIUS Do so, good Messala. MESSALA How died my master, Strato? STRATO I held the sword, and he did run on it. MESSALA Octavius, then take him to follow thee, That did the latest service to my master. ANTONY This was the noblest Roman of them all: 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. His life was gentle, and the elements So mix'd in him that Nature might stand up And say to all the world 'This was a man!' OCTAVIUS According to his virtue let us use him, With all respect and rites of burial. Within my tent his bones to-night shall lie, Most like a soldier, order'd honourably. So call the field to rest; and let's away, To part the glories of this happy day. [Exeunt] HAMLET DRAMATIS PERSONAE CLAUDIUS king of Denmark. (KING CLAUDIUS:) HAMLET son to the late, and nephew to the present king. POLONIUS lord chamberlain. (LORD POLONIUS:) HORATIO friend to Hamlet. LAERTES son to Polonius. LUCIANUS nephew to the king. VOLTIMAND | | CORNELIUS | | ROSENCRANTZ | courtiers. | GUILDENSTERN | | OSRIC | A Gentleman, (Gentlemen:) A Priest. (First Priest:) MARCELLUS | | officers. BERNARDO | FRANCISCO a soldier. REYNALDO servant to Polonius. Players. (First Player:) (Player King:) (Player Queen:) Two Clowns, grave-diggers. (First Clown:) (Second Clown:) FORTINBRAS prince of Norway. (PRINCE FORTINBRAS:) A Captain. English Ambassadors. (First Ambassador:) GERTRUDE queen of Denmark, and mother to Hamlet. (QUEEN GERTRUDE:) OPHELIA daughter to Polonius. Lords, Ladies, Officers, Soldiers, Sailors, Messengers, and other Attendants. (Lord:) (First Sailor:) (Messenger:) Ghost of Hamlet's Father. (Ghost:) SCENE Denmark. HAMLET ACT I SCENE I Elsinore. A platform before the castle. [FRANCISCO at his post. Enter to him BERNARDO] BERNARDO Who's there? FRANCISCO Nay, answer me: stand, and unfold yourself. BERNARDO Long live the king! FRANCISCO Bernardo? BERNARDO He. FRANCISCO You come most carefully upon your hour. BERNARDO 'Tis now struck twelve; get thee to bed, Francisco. FRANCISCO For this relief much thanks: 'tis bitter cold, And I am sick at heart. BERNARDO Have you had quiet guard? FRANCISCO Not a mouse stirring. BERNARDO Well, good night. If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus, The rivals of my watch, bid them make haste. FRANCISCO I think I hear them. Stand, ho! Who's there? [Enter HORATIO and MARCELLUS] HORATIO Friends to this ground. MARCELLUS And liegemen to the Dane. FRANCISCO Give you good night. MARCELLUS O, farewell, honest soldier: Who hath relieved you? FRANCISCO Bernardo has my place. Give you good night. [Exit] MARCELLUS Holla! Bernardo! BERNARDO Say, What, is Horatio there? HORATIO A piece of him. BERNARDO Welcome, Horatio: welcome, good Marcellus. MARCELLUS What, has this thing appear'd again to-night? BERNARDO I have seen nothing. MARCELLUS Horatio says 'tis but our fantasy, And will not let belief take hold of him Touching this dreaded sight, twice seen of us: Therefore I have entreated him along With us to watch the minutes of this night; That if again this apparition come, He may approve our eyes and speak to it. HORATIO Tush, tush, 'twill not appear. BERNARDO Sit down awhile; And let us once again assail your ears, That are so fortified against our story What we have two nights seen. HORATIO Well, sit we down, And let us hear Bernardo speak of this. BERNARDO Last night of all, When yond same star that's westward from the pole Had made his course to illume that part of heaven Where now it burns, Marcellus and myself, The bell then beating one,-- [Enter Ghost] MARCELLUS Peace, break thee off; look, where it comes again! BERNARDO In the same figure, like the king that's dead. MARCELLUS Thou art a scholar; speak to it, Horatio. BERNARDO Looks it not like the king? mark it, Horatio. HORATIO Most like: it harrows me with fear and wonder. BERNARDO It would be spoke to. MARCELLUS Question it, Horatio. HORATIO What art thou that usurp'st this time of night, Together with that fair and warlike form In which the majesty of buried Denmark Did sometimes march? by heaven I charge thee, speak! MARCELLUS It is offended. BERNARDO See, it stalks away! HORATIO Stay! speak, speak! I charge thee, speak! [Exit Ghost] MARCELLUS 'Tis gone, and will not answer. BERNARDO How now, Horatio! you tremble and look pale: Is not this something more than fantasy? What think you on't? HORATIO Before my God, I might not this believe Without the sensible and true avouch Of mine own eyes. MARCELLUS Is it not like the king? HORATIO As thou art to thyself: Such was the very armour he had on When he the ambitious Norway combated; So frown'd he once, when, in an angry parle, He smote the sledded Polacks on the ice. 'Tis strange. MARCELLUS Thus twice before, and jump at this dead hour, With martial stalk hath he gone by our watch. HORATIO In what particular thought to work I know not; But in the gross and scope of my opinion, This bodes some strange eruption to our state. MARCELLUS 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; What might be toward, that this sweaty haste Doth make the night joint-labourer with the day: Who is't that can inform me? HORATIO That can I; At least, the whisper goes so. Our last king, Whose image even but now appear'd to us, Was, as you know, by Fortinbras of Norway, Thereto prick'd on by a most emulate pride, Dared to the combat; in which our valiant Hamlet-- For so this side of our known world esteem'd him-- Did slay this Fortinbras; who by a seal'd compact, Well ratified by law and heraldry, Did forfeit, with his life, all those his lands Which he stood seized of, to the conqueror: Against the which, a moiety competent Was gaged by our king; which had return'd To the inheritance of Fortinbras, Had he been vanquisher; as, by the same covenant, And carriage of the article design'd, His fell to Hamlet. 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. BERNARDO I think it be no other but e'en so: 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. HORATIO A mote it is to trouble the mind's eye. In the most high and palmy state of Rome, A little ere the mightiest Julius fell, The graves stood tenantless and the sheeted dead Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets: As stars with trains of fire and dews of blood, Disasters in the sun; and the moist star Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse: And even the like precurse of fierce events, As harbingers preceding still the fates And prologue to the omen coming on, Have heaven and earth together demonstrated Unto our climatures and countrymen.-- But soft, behold! lo, where it comes again! [Re-enter Ghost] I'll cross it, though it blast me. Stay, illusion! If thou hast any sound, or use of voice, Speak to me: If there be any good thing to be done, That may to thee do ease and grace to me, Speak to me: [Cock crows] 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, Speak of it: stay, and speak! Stop it, Marcellus. MARCELLUS Shall I strike at it with my partisan? HORATIO Do, if it will not stand. BERNARDO 'Tis here! HORATIO 'Tis here! MARCELLUS 'Tis gone! [Exit Ghost] We do it wrong, being so majestical, To offer it the show of violence; For it is, as the air, invulnerable, And our vain blows malicious mockery. BERNARDO It was about to speak, when the cock crew. HORATIO And then it started like a guilty thing Upon a fearful summons. I have heard, The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn, Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat Awake the god of day; and, at his warning, Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air, The extravagant and erring spirit hies To his confine: and of the truth herein This present object made probation. MARCELLUS It faded on the crowing of the cock. 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 dares 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. HORATIO So have I heard and do in part believe it. But, look, the morn, in russet mantle clad, Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastward hill: Break we our watch up; and by my advice, Let us impart what we have seen to-night Unto young Hamlet; for, upon my life, This spirit, dumb to us, will speak to him. Do you consent we shall acquaint him with it, As needful in our loves, fitting our duty? MARCELLUS Let's do't, I pray; and I this morning know Where we shall find him most conveniently. [Exeunt] HAMLET ACT I SCENE II A room of state in the castle. [Enter KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, HAMLET, POLONIUS, LAERTES, VOLTIMAND, CORNELIUS, Lords, and Attendants] KING CLAUDIUS Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's death The memory be green, and that it us befitted To bear our hearts in grief and our whole kingdom To be contracted in one brow of woe, Yet so far hath discretion fought with nature That we with wisest sorrow think on him, Together with remembrance of ourselves. Therefore our sometime sister, now our queen, The imperial jointress to this warlike state, Have we, as 'twere with a defeated joy,-- With an auspicious and a dropping eye, With mirth in funeral and with dirge in marriage, In equal scale weighing delight and dole,-- Taken to wife: nor have we herein barr'd Your better wisdoms, which have freely gone With this affair along. For all, our thanks. 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 the 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 bonds of law, To our most valiant brother. So much for him. Now for ourself and for this time of meeting: Thus much the business is: we have here writ To Norway, uncle of young Fortinbras,-- Who, impotent and bed-rid, 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, Voltimand, 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 delated articles allow. Farewell, and let your haste commend your duty. CORNELIUS | | In that and all things will we show our duty. VOLTIMAND | KING CLAUDIUS We doubt it nothing: heartily farewell. [Exeunt VOLTIMAND and CORNELIUS] And now, Laertes, what's the news with you? You told us of some suit; what is't, Laertes? You cannot speak of reason to the Dane, And loose your voice: 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. What wouldst thou have, Laertes? LAERTES 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. KING CLAUDIUS Have you your father's leave? What says Polonius? LORD POLONIUS He hath, my lord, wrung from me my slow leave By laboursome petition, and at last Upon his will I seal'd my hard consent: I do beseech you, give him leave to go. KING CLAUDIUS Take thy fair hour, Laertes; time be thine, And thy best graces spend it at thy will! But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son,-- HAMLET [Aside] A little more than kin, and less than kind. KING CLAUDIUS How is it that the clouds still hang on you? HAMLET Not so, my lord; I am too much i' the sun. QUEEN GERTRUDE Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour off, And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark. Do not for ever with thy vailed lids Seek for thy noble father in the dust: Thou know'st 'tis common; all that lives must die, Passing through nature to eternity. HAMLET Ay, madam, it is common. QUEEN GERTRUDE If it be, Why seems it so particular with thee? HAMLET Seems, madam! nay it is; I know not 'seems.' 'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother, Nor customary suits of solemn black, Nor windy suspiration of forced breath, No, nor the fruitful river in the eye, Nor the dejected 'havior of the visage, Together with all forms, moods, shapes of grief, That can denote me truly: 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. KING CLAUDIUS 'Tis sweet and commendable in your nature, Hamlet, To give these mourning duties to your father: But, you must know, your father lost a father; That father lost, lost his, and the survivor bound In filial obligation for some term To do obsequious sorrow: but to persever In obstinate condolement is a course Of impious stubbornness; 'tis unmanly grief; It shows a will most incorrect to heaven, A heart unfortified, a mind impatient, An understanding simple and unschool'd: For what we know must be and is as common As any the most vulgar thing to sense, Why should we in our peevish opposition Take it to heart? Fie! 'tis a fault to heaven, A fault against the dead, a fault to nature, To reason most absurd: whose common theme Is death of fathers, and who still hath cried, From the first corse till he that died to-day, 'This must be so.' We pray you, throw to earth This unprevailing woe, and think of us As of a father: for let the world take note, You are the most immediate to our throne; And with no less nobility of love Than that which dearest father bears his son, Do I impart toward you. For your intent In going back to school in Wittenberg, It is most retrograde to our desire: And we beseech you, bend you to remain Here, in the cheer and comfort of our eye, Our chiefest courtier, cousin, and our son. QUEEN GERTRUDE Let not thy mother lose her prayers, Hamlet: I pray thee, stay with us; go not to Wittenberg. HAMLET I shall in all my best obey you, madam. KING CLAUDIUS Why, 'tis a loving and a fair reply: Be as ourself in Denmark. Madam, come; This gentle and unforced accord of Hamlet Sits smiling to my heart: in grace whereof, No jocund health that Denmark drinks to-day, But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell, And the king's rouse the heavens all bruit again, Re-speaking earthly thunder. Come away. [Exeunt all but HAMLET] HAMLET O, that this too too solid flesh would melt Thaw and resolve itself into a dew! Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! God! How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable, Seem to me all the uses of this world! Fie on't! ah fie! 'tis an unweeded garden, That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature Possess it merely. That it should come to this! But two months dead: nay, not so much, not two: So excellent a king; that was, to this, Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother That he might not beteem the winds of heaven Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth! Must I remember? why, she would hang on him, As if increase of appetite had grown By what it fed on: and yet, within a month-- Let me not think on't--Frailty, thy name is woman!-- A little month, or ere those shoes were old With which she follow'd my poor father's body, Like Niobe, all tears:--why she, even she-- O, God! a beast, that wants discourse of reason, Would have mourn'd longer--married with my uncle, My father's brother, but no more like my father Than I to Hercules: within a month: Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears Had left the flushing in her galled eyes, She married. O, most wicked speed, to post With such dexterity to incestuous sheets! It is not nor it cannot come to good: But break, my heart; for I must hold my tongue. [Enter HORATIO, MARCELLUS, and BERNARDO] HORATIO Hail to your lordship! HAMLET I am glad to see you well: Horatio,--or I do forget myself. HORATIO The same, my lord, and your poor servant ever. HAMLET Sir, my good friend; I'll change that name with you: And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio? Marcellus? MARCELLUS My good lord-- HAMLET I am very glad to see you. Good even, sir. But what, in faith, make you from Wittenberg? HORATIO A truant disposition, good my lord. HAMLET I would not hear your enemy say so, Nor shall you do mine ear that violence, To make it truster of your own report Against yourself: I know you are no truant. But what is your affair in Elsinore? We'll teach you to drink deep ere you depart. HORATIO My lord, I came to see your father's funeral. HAMLET I pray thee, do not mock me, fellow-student; I think it was to see my mother's wedding. HORATIO Indeed, my lord, it follow'd hard upon. HAMLET Thrift, thrift, Horatio! the funeral baked 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. HORATIO Where, my lord? HAMLET In my mind's eye, Horatio. HORATIO I saw him once; he was a goodly king. HAMLET He was a man, take him for all in all, I shall not look upon his like again. HORATIO My lord, I think I saw him yesternight. HAMLET Saw? who? HORATIO My lord, the king your father. HAMLET The king my father! HORATIO Season your admiration for awhile With an attent ear, till I may deliver, Upon the witness of these gentlemen, This marvel to you. HAMLET For God's love, let me hear. HORATIO Two nights together had these gentlemen, Marcellus and Bernardo, on their watch, In the dead vast and middle of the night, Been thus encounter'd. A figure like your father, Armed at point exactly, cap-a-pe, Appears before them, and with solemn march Goes slow and stately by them: thrice he walk'd By their oppress'd and fear-surprised eyes, Within his truncheon's length; whilst they, distilled Almost to jelly with the act of fear, Stand dumb and speak not to him. 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: I knew your father; These hands are not more like. HAMLET But where was this? MARCELLUS My lord, upon the platform where we watch'd. HAMLET Did you not speak to it? HORATIO My lord, I did; But answer made it none: yet once methought It lifted up its head and did address Itself to motion, like as it would speak; But even then the morning cock crew loud, And at the sound it shrunk in haste away, And vanish'd from our sight. HAMLET 'Tis very strange. HORATIO As I do live, my honour'd lord, 'tis true; And we did think it writ down in our duty To let you know of it. HAMLET Indeed, indeed, sirs, but this troubles me. Hold you the watch to-night? MARCELLUS | | We do, my lord. BERNARDO | HAMLET Arm'd, say you? MARCELLUS | | Arm'd, my lord. BERNARDO | HAMLET From top to toe? MARCELLUS | | My lord, from head to foot. BERNARDO | HAMLET Then saw you not his face? HORATIO O, yes, my lord; he wore his beaver up. HAMLET What, look'd he frowningly? HORATIO A countenance more in sorrow than in anger. HAMLET Pale or red? HORATIO Nay, very pale. HAMLET And fix'd his eyes upon you? HORATIO Most constantly. HAMLET I would I had been there. HORATIO It would have much amazed you. HAMLET Very like, very like. Stay'd it long? HORATIO While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred. MARCELLUS | | Longer, longer. BERNARDO | HORATIO Not when I saw't. HAMLET His beard was grizzled--no? HORATIO It was, as I have seen it in his life, A sable silver'd. HAMLET I will watch to-night; Perchance 'twill walk again. HORATIO I warrant it will. HAMLET If it assume my noble father's person, I'll speak to it, though hell itself should gape And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all, If you have hitherto conceal'd this sight, Let it be tenable in your silence still; And whatsoever else shall hap to-night, Give it an understanding, but no tongue: I will requite your loves. So, fare you well: Upon the platform, 'twixt eleven and twelve, I'll visit you. All Our duty to your honour. HAMLET Your loves, as mine to you: farewell. [Exeunt all but HAMLET] My father's spirit in arms! all is not well; I doubt some foul play: would the night were come! Till then sit still, my soul: foul deeds will rise, Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes. [Exit] HAMLET ACT I SCENE III A room in Polonius' house. [Enter LAERTES and OPHELIA] LAERTES My necessaries are embark'd: farewell: And, sister, as the winds give benefit And convoy is assistant, do not sleep, But let me hear from you. OPHELIA Do you doubt that? LAERTES For Hamlet and the trifling of his favour, Hold it a fashion and a toy in blood, A violet in the youth of primy nature, Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting, The perfume and suppliance of a minute; No more. OPHELIA No more but so? LAERTES Think it no more; For nature, crescent, does not grow alone In thews and bulk, but, as this temple waxes, The inward service of the mind and soul Grows wide withal. Perhaps he loves you now, And now no soil nor cautel doth besmirch The virtue of his will: but you must fear, His greatness weigh'd, his will is not his own; For he himself is subject to his birth: 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 circumscribed 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. Then weigh what loss your honour may sustain, If with too credent ear you list his songs, Or lose your heart, or your chaste treasure open To his unmaster'd importunity. 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. The chariest maid is prodigal enough, If she unmask her beauty to the moon: Virtue itself 'scapes not calumnious strokes: The canker galls the infants of the spring, Too oft before their buttons be disclosed, And in the morn and liquid dew of youth Contagious blastments are most imminent. Be wary then; best safety lies in fear: Youth to itself rebels, though none else near. OPHELIA I shall the effect of this good lesson keep, As watchman to my heart. But, good my brother, Do not, as some ungracious pastors do, Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven; Whiles, like a puff'd and reckless libertine, Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads, And recks not his own rede. LAERTES O, fear me not. I stay too long: but here my father comes. [Enter POLONIUS] A double blessing is a double grace, Occasion smiles upon a second leave. LORD POLONIUS Yet here, Laertes! aboard, aboard, for shame! The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail, And you are stay'd for. There; my blessing with thee! And these few precepts in thy memory See thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue, Nor any unproportioned thought his act. Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar. Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel; But do not dull thy palm with entertainment Of each new-hatch'd, unfledged comrade. Beware Of entrance to a quarrel, but being in, Bear't that the opposed may beware of thee. Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice; Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment. Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy; For the apparel oft proclaims the man, And they in France of the best rank and station Are of a most select and generous chief in that. Neither a borrower nor a lender be; For loan oft loses both itself and friend, And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. This above all: to thine ownself be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man. Farewell: my blessing season this in thee! LAERTES Most humbly do I take my leave, my lord. LORD POLONIUS The time invites you; go; your servants tend. LAERTES Farewell, Ophelia; and remember well What I have said to you. OPHELIA 'Tis in my memory lock'd, And you yourself shall keep the key of it. LAERTES Farewell. [Exit] LORD POLONIUS What is't, Ophelia, be hath said to you? OPHELIA So please you, something touching the Lord Hamlet. LORD POLONIUS Marry, well bethought: 'Tis told me, he hath very oft of late Given private time to you; and you yourself Have of your audience been most free and bounteous: If it be so, as so 'tis put on me, And that in way of caution, I must tell you, You do not understand yourself so clearly As it behoves my daughter and your honour. What is between you? give me up the truth. OPHELIA He hath, my lord, of late made many tenders Of his affection to me. LORD POLONIUS Affection! pooh! you speak like a green girl, Unsifted in such perilous circumstance. Do you believe his tenders, as you call them? OPHELIA I do not know, my lord, what I should think. LORD POLONIUS Marry, I'll teach you: think yourself a baby; That you have ta'en these tenders for true pay, Which are not sterling. Tender yourself more dearly; Or--not to crack the wind of the poor phrase, Running it thus--you'll tender me a fool. OPHELIA My lord, he hath importuned me with love In honourable fashion. LORD POLONIUS Ay, fashion you may call it; go to, go to. OPHELIA And hath given countenance to his speech, my lord, With almost all the holy vows of heaven. LORD POLONIUS Ay, springes to catch woodcocks. I do know, When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul Lends the tongue vows: these blazes, daughter, Giving more light than heat, extinct in both, Even in their promise, as it is a-making, You must not take for fire. From this time Be somewhat scanter of your maiden presence; Set your entreatments at a higher rate Than a command to parley. For Lord Hamlet, Believe so much in him, that he is young And with a larger tether may he walk Than may be given you: 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. This is for all: 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. Look to't, I charge you: come your ways. OPHELIA I shall obey, my lord. [Exeunt] HAMLET ACT I SCENE IV The platform. [Enter HAMLET, HORATIO, and MARCELLUS] HAMLET The air bites shrewdly; it is very cold. HORATIO It is a nipping and an eager air. HAMLET What hour now? HORATIO I think it lacks of twelve. HAMLET No, it is struck. HORATIO Indeed? I heard it not: then it draws near the season Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk. [A flourish of trumpets, and ordnance shot off, within] What does this mean, my lord? HAMLET The king doth wake to-night and takes his rouse, Keeps wassail, and the swaggering up-spring reels; And, as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down, The kettle-drum and trumpet thus bray out The triumph of his pledge. HORATIO Is it a custom? HAMLET 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 traduced and tax'd of other nations: They clepe 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. So, oft it chances in particular men, That for some vicious mole of nature in them, As, in their birth--wherein they are not guilty, Since nature cannot choose his origin-- By the o'ergrowth of some complexion, Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason, Or by some habit that too much o'er-leavens The form of plausive manners, that these men, Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect, Being nature's livery, or fortune's star,-- Their virtues else--be they as pure as grace, As infinite as man may undergo-- Shall in the general censure take corruption From that particular fault: the dram of eale Doth all the noble substance of a doubt To his own scandal. HORATIO Look, my lord, it comes! [Enter Ghost] HAMLET 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 comest in such a questionable shape That I will speak to thee: I'll call thee Hamlet, King, father, royal Dane: O, answer me! Let me not burst in ignorance; but tell Why thy canonized bones, hearsed in death, Have burst their cerements; why the sepulchre, Wherein we saw thee quietly inurn'd, Hath oped his ponderous and marble jaws, To cast thee up again. What may this mean, That thou, dead corse, again in complete steel Revisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon, Making night hideous; and we fools of nature So horridly to shake our disposition With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls? Say, why is this? wherefore? what should we do? [Ghost beckons HAMLET] HORATIO It beckons you to go away with it, As if it some impartment did desire To you alone. MARCELLUS Look, with what courteous action It waves you to a more removed ground: But do not go with it. HORATIO No, by no means. HAMLET It will not speak; then I will follow it. HORATIO Do not, my lord. HAMLET Why, what should be the fear? I do not set my life in a pin's fee; And for my soul, what can it do to that, Being a thing immortal as itself? It waves me forth again: I'll follow it. HORATIO What if it tempt you toward the flood, my lord, Or to the dreadful summit of the cliff That beetles o'er his base into the sea, And there assume some other horrible form, Which might deprive your sovereignty of reason And draw you into madness? think of it: The very place puts toys of desperation, Without more motive, into every brain That looks so many fathoms to the sea And hears it roar beneath. HAMLET It waves me still. Go on; I'll follow thee. MARCELLUS You shall not go, my lord. HAMLET Hold off your hands. HORATIO Be ruled; you shall not go. HAMLET My fate cries out, And makes each petty artery in this body As hardy as the Nemean lion's nerve. Still am I call'd. Unhand me, gentlemen. By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me! I say, away! Go on; I'll follow thee. [Exeunt Ghost and HAMLET] HORATIO He waxes desperate with imagination. MARCELLUS Let's follow; 'tis not fit thus to obey him. HORATIO Have after. To what issue will this come? MARCELLUS Something is rotten in the state of Denmark. HORATIO Heaven will direct it. MARCELLUS Nay, let's follow him. [Exeunt] HAMLET ACT I SCENE V Another part of the platform. [Enter GHOST and HAMLET] HAMLET Where wilt thou lead me? speak; I'll go no further. Ghost Mark me. HAMLET I will. Ghost My hour is almost come, When I to sulphurous and tormenting flames Must render up myself. HAMLET Alas, poor ghost! Ghost Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing To what I shall unfold. HAMLET Speak; I am bound to hear. Ghost So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt hear. HAMLET What? Ghost I am thy father's spirit, Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night, And for the day confined to fast in fires, Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature Are burnt and purged away. 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 on end, Like quills upon the fretful porpentine: But this eternal blazon must not be To ears of flesh and blood. List, list, O, list! If thou didst ever thy dear father love-- HAMLET O God! Ghost Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder. HAMLET Murder! Ghost Murder most foul, as in the best it is; But this most foul, strange and unnatural. HAMLET Haste me to know't, that I, with wings as swift As meditation or the thoughts of love, May sweep to my revenge. Ghost I find thee apt; And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed That roots itself in ease on Lethe wharf, Wouldst thou not stir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear: 'Tis given out that, sleeping in my orchard, A serpent stung me; so the whole ear of Denmark Is by a forged process of my death Rankly abused: but know, thou noble youth, The serpent that did sting thy father's life Now wears his crown. HAMLET O my prophetic soul! My uncle! Ghost 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: O Hamlet, what a falling-off was there! From me, whose love was of that dignity That it went hand in hand even with the vow I made to her in marriage, and to decline Upon a wretch whose natural gifts were poor To those of mine! But virtue, as it never will be moved, Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven, So lust, though to a radiant angel link'd, Will sate itself in a celestial bed, And prey on garbage. But, soft! methinks I scent the morning air; Brief let me be. Sleeping within my orchard, My custom always of the afternoon, Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole, With juice of cursed hebenon 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 quicksilver it courses through The natural gates and alleys of the body, And with a sudden vigour doth posset And curd, like eager droppings into milk, The thin and wholesome blood: so did it mine; And a most instant tetter bark'd about, Most lazar-like, with vile and loathsome crust, All my smooth body. Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's hand Of life, of crown, of queen, at once dispatch'd: Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin, Unhousel'd, disappointed, unanel'd, No reckoning made, but sent to my account With all my imperfections on my head: O, horrible! O, horrible! most horrible! If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not; Let not the royal bed of Denmark be A couch for luxury and damned incest. But, howsoever thou pursuest this act, Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive Against thy mother aught: leave her to heaven And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge, To prick and sting her. Fare thee well at once! The glow-worm shows the matin to be near, And 'gins to pale his uneffectual fire: Adieu, adieu! Hamlet, remember me. [Exit] HAMLET O all you host of heaven! O earth! what else? And shall I couple hell? O, fie! Hold, hold, my heart; And you, my sinews, grow not instant old, But bear me stiffly up. Remember thee! Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat In this distracted globe. Remember thee! Yea, from the table of my memory I'll wipe away all trivial fond records, All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past, That youth and observation copied there; And thy commandment all alone shall live Within the book and volume of my brain, Unmix'd with baser matter: yes, by heaven! O most pernicious woman! O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain! My tables,--meet it is I set it down, That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain; At least I'm sure it may be so in Denmark: [Writing] So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word; It is 'Adieu, adieu! remember me.' I have sworn 't. MARCELLUS | | [Within] My lord, my lord,-- HORATIO | MARCELLUS [Within] Lord Hamlet,-- HORATIO [Within] Heaven secure him! HAMLET So be it! HORATIO [Within] Hillo, ho, ho, my lord! HAMLET Hillo, ho, ho, boy! come, bird, come. [Enter HORATIO and MARCELLUS] MARCELLUS How is't, my noble lord? HORATIO What news, my lord? HAMLET O, wonderful! HORATIO Good my lord, tell it. HAMLET No; you'll reveal it. HORATIO Not I, my lord, by heaven. MARCELLUS Nor I, my lord. HAMLET How say you, then; would heart of man once think it? But you'll be secret? HORATIO | | Ay, by heaven, my lord. MARCELLUS | HAMLET There's ne'er a villain dwelling in all Denmark But he's an arrant knave. HORATIO There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave To tell us this. HAMLET Why, right; you are i' the right; And so, without more circumstance at all, I hold it fit that we shake hands and part: You, as your business and desire shall point you; For every man has business and desire, Such as it is; and for mine own poor part, Look you, I'll go pray. HORATIO These are but wild and whirling words, my lord. HAMLET I'm sorry they offend you, heartily; Yes, 'faith heartily. HORATIO There's no offence, my lord. HAMLET Yes, by Saint Patrick, but there is, Horatio, And much offence too. Touching this vision here, It is an honest ghost, that let me tell you: For your desire to know what is between us, O'ermaster 't as you may. And now, good friends, As you are friends, scholars and soldiers, Give me one poor request. HORATIO What is't, my lord? we will. HAMLET Never make known what you have seen to-night. HORATIO | | My lord, we will not. MARCELLUS | HAMLET Nay, but swear't. HORATIO In faith, My lord, not I. MARCELLUS Nor I, my lord, in faith. HAMLET Upon my sword. MARCELLUS We have sworn, my lord, already. HAMLET Indeed, upon my sword, indeed. Ghost [Beneath] Swear. HAMLET Ah, ha, boy! say'st thou so? art thou there, truepenny? Come on--you hear this fellow in the cellarage-- Consent to swear. HORATIO Propose the oath, my lord. HAMLET Never to speak of this that you have seen, Swear by my sword. Ghost [Beneath] Swear. HAMLET Hic et ubique? then we'll shift our ground. Come hither, gentlemen, And lay your hands again upon my sword: Never to speak of this that you have heard, Swear by my sword. Ghost [Beneath] Swear. HAMLET Well said, old mole! canst work i' the earth so fast? A worthy pioner! Once more remove, good friends. HORATIO O day and night, but this is wondrous strange! HAMLET And therefore as a stranger give it welcome. There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy. But come; Here, as before, never, so help you mercy, How strange or odd soe'er I bear myself, As I perchance hereafter shall think meet To put an antic disposition on, That you, at such times seeing me, never shall, With arms encumber'd thus, or this headshake, Or by pronouncing of some doubtful phrase, As 'Well, well, we know,' or 'We could, an if we would,' Or 'If we list to speak,' or 'There be, an if they might,' Or such ambiguous giving out, to note That you know aught of me: this not to do, So grace and mercy at your most need help you, Swear. Ghost [Beneath] Swear. HAMLET Rest, rest, perturbed spirit! [They swear] So, gentlemen, With all my love I do commend me to you: And what so poor a man as Hamlet is May do, to express his love and friending to you, God willing, shall not lack. Let us go in together; And still your fingers on your lips, I pray. The time is out of joint: O cursed spite, That ever I was born to set it right! Nay, come, let's go together. [Exeunt] HAMLET ACT II SCENE I A room in POLONIUS' house. [Enter POLONIUS and REYNALDO] LORD POLONIUS Give him this money and these notes, Reynaldo. REYNALDO I will, my lord. LORD POLONIUS You shall do marvellous wisely, good Reynaldo, Before you visit him, to make inquire Of his behavior. REYNALDO My lord, I did intend it. LORD POLONIUS Marry, well said; very well said. Look you, sir, Inquire me first what Danskers are in Paris; And how, and who, what means, and where they keep, What company, at what expense; and finding By this encompassment and drift of question That they do know my son, come you more nearer Than your particular demands will touch it: Take you, as 'twere, some distant knowledge of him; As thus, 'I know his father and his friends, And in part him: ' do you mark this, Reynaldo? REYNALDO Ay, very well, my lord. LORD POLONIUS 'And in part him; but' you may say 'not well: But, if't be he I mean, he's very wild; Addicted so and so:' and there put on him What forgeries you please; marry, none so rank As may dishonour him; take heed of that; But, sir, such wanton, wild and usual slips As are companions noted and most known To youth and liberty. REYNALDO As gaming, my lord. LORD POLONIUS Ay, or drinking, fencing, swearing, quarrelling, Drabbing: you may go so far. REYNALDO My lord, that would dishonour him. LORD POLONIUS 'Faith, no; as you may season it in the charge You must not put another scandal on him, That he is open to incontinency; That's not my meaning: but breathe his faults so quaintly That they may seem the taints of liberty, The flash and outbreak of a fiery mind, A savageness in unreclaimed blood, Of general assault. REYNALDO But, my good lord,-- LORD POLONIUS Wherefore should you do this? REYNALDO Ay, my lord, I would know that. LORD POLONIUS Marry, sir, here's my drift; And I believe, it is a fetch of wit: You laying these slight sullies on my son, As 'twere a thing a little soil'd i' the working, Mark you, Your party in converse, him you would sound, Having ever seen in the prenominate crimes The youth you breathe of guilty, be assured He closes with you in this consequence; 'Good sir,' or so, or 'friend,' or 'gentleman,' According to the phrase or the addition Of man and country. REYNALDO Very good, my lord. LORD POLONIUS And then, sir, does he this--he does--what was I about to say? By the mass, I was about to say something: where did I leave? REYNALDO At 'closes in the consequence,' at 'friend or so,' and 'gentleman.' LORD POLONIUS At 'closes in the consequence,' ay, marry; He closes thus: 'I know the gentleman; 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. See you now; Your bait of falsehood takes this carp of truth: And thus do we of wisdom and of reach, With windlasses and with assays of bias, By indirections find directions out: So by my former lecture and advice, Shall you my son. You have me, have you not? REYNALDO My lord, I have. LORD POLONIUS God be wi' you; fare you well. REYNALDO Good my lord! LORD POLONIUS Observe his inclination in yourself. REYNALDO I shall, my lord. LORD POLONIUS And let him ply his music. REYNALDO Well, my lord. LORD POLONIUS Farewell! [Exit REYNALDO] [Enter OPHELIA] How now, Ophelia! what's the matter? OPHELIA O, my lord, my lord, I have been so affrighted! LORD POLONIUS With what, i' the name of God? OPHELIA My lord, as I was sewing in my closet, Lord Hamlet, with his doublet all unbraced; No hat upon his head; his stockings foul'd, Ungarter'd, and down-gyved to his ancle; Pale as his shirt; his knees knocking each other; And with a look so piteous in purport As if he had been loosed out of hell To speak of horrors,--he comes before me. LORD POLONIUS Mad for thy love? OPHELIA My lord, I do not know; But truly, I do fear it. LORD POLONIUS What said he? OPHELIA He took me by the wrist and held me hard; Then goes he to the length of all his arm; And, with his other hand thus o'er his brow, He falls to such perusal of my face As he would draw it. Long stay'd he so; At last, a little shaking of mine arm And thrice his head thus waving up and down, He raised a sigh so piteous and profound As it did seem to shatter all his bulk And end his being: that done, he lets me go: And, with his head over his shoulder turn'd, He seem'd to find his way without his eyes; For out o' doors he went without their helps, And, to the last, bended their light on me. LORD POLONIUS Come, go with me: I will go seek the king. This is the very ecstasy of love, Whose violent property fordoes itself And leads the will to desperate undertakings As oft as any passion under heaven That does afflict our natures. I am sorry. What, have you given him any hard words of late? OPHELIA No, my good lord, but, as you did command, I did repel his fetters and denied His access to me. LORD POLONIUS That hath made him mad. I am sorry that with better heed and judgment I had not quoted him: I fear'd he did but trifle, And meant to wreck thee; but, beshrew my jealousy! By heaven, it is as proper to our age To cast beyond ourselves in our opinions As it is common for the younger sort To lack discretion. Come, go we to the king: This must be known; which, being kept close, might move More grief to hide than hate to utter love. [Exeunt] HAMLET ACT II SCENE II A room in the castle. [Enter KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, ROSENCRANTZ, GUILDENSTERN, and Attendants] KING CLAUDIUS Welcome, dear Rosencrantz and Guildenstern! Moreover that we much did long to see you, The need we have to use you did provoke Our hasty sending. Something have you heard Of Hamlet's transformation; so call it, Sith nor the exterior nor the inward man Resembles that it was. What it should be, More than his father's death, that thus hath put him So much from the understanding of himself, I cannot dream of: I entreat you both, That, being of so young days brought up with him, And sith so neighbour'd to his youth and havior, That you vouchsafe your rest here in our court Some little time: so by your companies To draw him on to pleasures, and to gather, So much as from occasion you may glean, Whether aught, to us unknown, afflicts him thus, That, open'd, lies within our remedy. QUEEN GERTRUDE Good gentlemen, he hath much talk'd of you; And sure I am two men there are not living To whom he more adheres. If it will please you To show us so much gentry and good will As to expend your time with us awhile, For the supply and profit of our hope, Your visitation shall receive such thanks As fits a king's remembrance. ROSENCRANTZ Both your majesties Might, by the sovereign power you have of us, Put your dread pleasures more into command Than to entreaty. GUILDENSTERN But we both obey, And here give up ourselves, in the full bent To lay our service freely at your feet, To be commanded. KING CLAUDIUS Thanks, Rosencrantz and gentle Guildenstern. QUEEN GERTRUDE Thanks, Guildenstern and gentle Rosencrantz: And I beseech you instantly to visit My too much changed son. Go, some of you, And bring these gentlemen where Hamlet is. GUILDENSTERN Heavens make our presence and our practises Pleasant and helpful to him! QUEEN GERTRUDE Ay, amen! [Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ, GUILDENSTERN, and some Attendants] [Enter POLONIUS] LORD POLONIUS The ambassadors from Norway, my good lord, Are joyfully return'd. KING CLAUDIUS Thou still hast been the father of good news. LORD POLONIUS Have I, my lord? I assure 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 used to do, that I have found The very cause of Hamlet's lunacy. KING CLAUDIUS O, speak of that; that do I long to hear. LORD POLONIUS Give first admittance to the ambassadors; My news shall be the fruit to that great feast. KING CLAUDIUS Thyself do grace to them, and bring them in. [Exit POLONIUS] He tells me, my dear Gertrude, he hath found The head and source of all your son's distemper. QUEEN GERTRUDE I doubt it is no other but the main; His father's death, and our o'erhasty marriage. KING CLAUDIUS Well, we shall sift him. [Re-enter POLONIUS, with VOLTIMAND and CORNELIUS] Welcome, my good friends! Say, Voltimand, what from our brother Norway? VOLTIMAND Most fair return of greetings and desires. Upon our first, he sent out to suppress His nephew's levies; which to him appear'd To be a preparation 'gainst the Polack; But, better look'd into, he truly found It was against your highness: whereat grieved, That so his sickness, age and impotence Was falsely borne in hand, sends out arrests On Fortinbras; which he, in brief, obeys; Receives rebuke from Norway, and in fine Makes vow before his uncle never more To give the assay of arms against your majesty. 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, [Giving 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. KING CLAUDIUS It likes us well; And at our more consider'd time well read, Answer, and think upon this business. Meantime we thank you for your well-took labour: Go to your rest; at night we'll feast together: Most welcome home! [Exeunt VOLTIMAND and CORNELIUS] LORD POLONIUS This business is well ended. My liege, and madam, to expostulate What majesty should be, what duty is, Why day is day, night night, and time is time, Were nothing but to waste night, day and time. Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit, And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, I will be brief: your noble son is mad: Mad call I it; for, to define true madness, What is't but to be nothing else but mad? But let that go. QUEEN GERTRUDE More matter, with less art. LORD POLONIUS Madam, I swear I use no art at all. That he is mad, 'tis true: 'tis true 'tis pity; And pity 'tis 'tis true: a foolish figure; But farewell it, for I will use no art. Mad let us grant him, then: and now remains That we find out the cause of this effect, Or rather say, the cause of this defect, For this effect defective comes by cause: Thus it remains, and the remainder thus. Perpend. I have a daughter--have while she is mine-- Who, in her duty and obedience, mark, Hath given me this: now gather, and surmise. [Reads] 'To the celestial and my soul's idol, the most beautified Ophelia,'-- That's an ill phrase, a vile phrase; 'beautified' is a vile phrase: but you shall hear. Thus: [Reads] 'In her excellent white bosom, these, &c.' QUEEN GERTRUDE Came this from Hamlet to her? LORD POLONIUS Good madam, stay awhile; I will be faithful. [Reads] 'Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love. 'O dear Ophelia, I am ill at these numbers; I have not art to reckon my groans: but that I love thee best, O most best, believe it. Adieu. 'Thine evermore most dear lady, whilst this machine is to him, HAMLET.' This, in obedience, hath my daughter shown me, And more above, hath his solicitings, As they fell out by time, by means and place, All given to mine ear. KING CLAUDIUS But how hath she Received his love? LORD POLONIUS What do you think of me? KING CLAUDIUS As of a man faithful and honourable. LORD POLONIUS I would fain prove so. But what might you think, When I had seen this hot love on the wing-- As I perceived it, I must tell you that, Before my daughter told me--what might you, Or my dear majesty your queen here, think, If I had play'd the desk or table-book, Or given my heart a winking, mute and dumb, Or look'd upon this love with idle sight; What might you think? No, I went round to work, And my young mistress thus I did bespeak: 'Lord Hamlet is a prince, out of thy star; This must not be:' and then I precepts gave her, That she should lock herself from his resort, Admit no messengers, receive no tokens. Which done, she took the fruits of my advice; And he, repulsed--a short tale to make-- Fell into a sadness, then into a fast, Thence to a watch, thence into a weakness, Thence to a lightness, and, by this declension, Into the madness wherein now he raves, And all we mourn for. KING CLAUDIUS Do you think 'tis this? QUEEN GERTRUDE It may be, very likely. LORD POLONIUS Hath there been such a time--I'd fain know that-- That I have positively said 'Tis so,' When it proved otherwise? KING CLAUDIUS Not that I know. LORD POLONIUS [Pointing to his head and shoulder] Take this from this, if this be otherwise: If circumstances lead me, I will find Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeed Within the centre. KING CLAUDIUS How may we try it further? LORD POLONIUS You know, sometimes he walks four hours together Here in the lobby. QUEEN GERTRUDE So he does indeed. LORD POLONIUS At such a time I'll loose my daughter to him: Be you and I behind an arras then; Mark the encounter: if he love her not And be not from his reason fall'n thereon, Let me be no assistant for a state, But keep a farm and carters. KING CLAUDIUS We will try it. QUEEN GERTRUDE But, look, where sadly the poor wretch comes reading. LORD POLONIUS Away, I do beseech you, both away: I'll board him presently. [Exeunt KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, and Attendants] [Enter HAMLET, reading] O, give me leave: How does my good Lord Hamlet? HAMLET Well, God-a-mercy. LORD POLONIUS Do you know me, my lord? HAMLET Excellent well; you are a fishmonger. LORD POLONIUS Not I, my lord. HAMLET Then I would you were so honest a man. LORD POLONIUS Honest, my lord! HAMLET Ay, sir; to be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of ten thousand. LORD POLONIUS That's very true, my lord. HAMLET For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a god kissing carrion,--Have you a daughter? LORD POLONIUS I have, my lord. HAMLET Let her not walk i' the sun: conception is a blessing: but not as your daughter may conceive. Friend, look to 't. LORD POLONIUS [Aside] How say you by that? Still harping on my daughter: yet he knew me not at first; he said I was a fishmonger: he is far gone, far gone: and truly in my youth I suffered much extremity for love; very near this. I'll speak to him again. What do you read, my lord? HAMLET Words, words, words. LORD POLONIUS What is the matter, my lord? HAMLET Between who? LORD POLONIUS I mean, the matter that you read, my lord. HAMLET 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: all which, sir, though I most powerfully and potently believe, yet I hold it not honesty to have it thus set down, for yourself, sir, should be old as I am, if like a crab you could go backward. LORD POLONIUS [Aside] Though this be madness, yet there is method in 't. Will you walk out of the air, my lord? HAMLET Into my grave. LORD POLONIUS Indeed, that is out o' the air. [Aside] How pregnant sometimes his replies are! a happiness that often madness hits on, which reason and sanity could not so prosperously be delivered of. I will leave him, and suddenly contrive the means of meeting between him and my daughter.--My honourable lord, I will most humbly take my leave of you. HAMLET You cannot, sir, take from me any thing that I will more willingly part withal: except my life, except my life, except my life. LORD POLONIUS Fare you well, my lord. HAMLET These tedious old fools! [Enter ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN] LORD POLONIUS You go to seek the Lord Hamlet; there he is. ROSENCRANTZ [To POLONIUS] God save you, sir! [Exit POLONIUS] GUILDENSTERN My honoured lord! ROSENCRANTZ My most dear lord! HAMLET My excellent good friends! How dost thou, Guildenstern? Ah, Rosencrantz! Good lads, how do ye both? ROSENCRANTZ As the indifferent children of the earth. GUILDENSTERN Happy, in that we are not over-happy; On fortune's cap we are not the very button. HAMLET Nor the soles of her shoe? ROSENCRANTZ Neither, my lord. HAMLET Then you live about her waist, or in the middle of her favours? GUILDENSTERN 'Faith, her privates we. HAMLET In the secret parts of fortune? O, most true; she is a strumpet. What's the news? ROSENCRANTZ None, my lord, but that the world's grown honest. HAMLET Then is doomsday near: but your news is not true. Let me question more in particular: what have you, my good friends, deserved at the hands of fortune, that she sends you to prison hither? GUILDENSTERN Prison, my lord! HAMLET Denmark's a prison. ROSENCRANTZ Then is the world one. HAMLET A goodly one; in which there are many confines, wards and dungeons, Denmark being one o' the worst. ROSENCRANTZ We think not so, my lord. HAMLET Why, then, 'tis none to you; for there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so: to me it is a prison. ROSENCRANTZ Why then, your ambition makes it one; 'tis too narrow for your mind. HAMLET O God, I could be bounded in a nut shell and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams. GUILDENSTERN Which dreams indeed are ambition, for the very substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream. HAMLET A dream itself is but a shadow. ROSENCRANTZ Truly, and I hold ambition of so airy and light a quality that it is but a shadow's shadow. HAMLET Then are our beggars bodies, and our monarchs and outstretched heroes the beggars' shadows. Shall we to the court? for, by my fay, I cannot reason. ROSENCRANTZ | | We'll wait upon you. GUILDENSTERN | HAMLET No such matter: I will not sort you with the rest of my servants, for, to speak to you like an honest man, I am most dreadfully attended. But, in the beaten way of friendship, what make you at Elsinore? ROSENCRANTZ To visit you, my lord; no other occasion. HAMLET Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks; but I thank you: and sure, dear friends, my thanks are too dear a halfpenny. Were you not sent for? Is it your own inclining? Is it a free visitation? Come, deal justly with me: come, come; nay, speak. GUILDENSTERN What should we say, my lord? HAMLET Why, any thing, but to the purpose. You were sent for; and there is a kind of confession in your looks which your modesties have not craft enough to colour: I know the good king and queen have sent for you. ROSENCRANTZ To what end, my lord? HAMLET That you must teach me. 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? ROSENCRANTZ [Aside to GUILDENSTERN] What say you? HAMLET [Aside] Nay, then, I have an eye of you.--If you love me, hold not off. GUILDENSTERN My lord, we were sent for. HAMLET I will tell you why; so shall my anticipation prevent your discovery, and your secrecy to the king and queen moult no feather. I have of late--but wherefore I know not--lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory, this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. What a piece of work is a man! how noble in reason! how infinite in faculty! 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. ROSENCRANTZ My lord, there was no such stuff in my thoughts. HAMLET Why did you laugh then, when I said 'man delights not me'? ROSENCRANTZ To think, my lord, if you delight not in man, what lenten entertainment the players shall receive from you: we coted them on the way; and hither are they coming, to offer you service. HAMLET 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 humourous man shall end his part in peace; the clown shall make those laugh whose lungs are tickled o' the sere; and the lady shall say her mind freely, or the blank verse shall halt for't. What players are they? ROSENCRANTZ Even those you were wont to take delight in, the tragedians of the city. HAMLET How chances it they travel? their residence, both in reputation and profit, was better both ways. ROSENCRANTZ I think their inhibition comes by the means of the late innovation. HAMLET Do they hold the same estimation they did when I was in the city? are they so followed? ROSENCRANTZ No, indeed, are they not. HAMLET How comes it? do they grow rusty? ROSENCRANTZ Nay, their endeavour keeps in the wonted pace: but there is, sir, an aery of children, little eyases, that cry out on the top of question, and are most tyrannically clapped for't: these are now the fashion, and so berattle the common stages--so they call them--that many wearing rapiers are afraid of goose-quills and dare scarce come thither. HAMLET 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? ROSENCRANTZ '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. HAMLET Is't possible? GUILDENSTERN O, there has been much throwing about of brains. HAMLET Do the boys carry it away? ROSENCRANTZ Ay, that they do, my lord; Hercules and his load too. HAMLET It is not very strange; for mine uncle is king of Denmark, and those that would make mows at him while my father lived, give twenty, forty, fifty, an hundred ducats a-piece for his picture in little. 'Sblood, there is something in this more than natural, if philosophy could find it out. [Flourish of trumpets within] GUILDENSTERN There are the players. HAMLET Gentlemen, you are welcome to Elsinore. Your hands, come then: the appurtenance of welcome is fashion and ceremony: let me comply with you in this garb, lest my extent to the players, which, I tell you, must show fairly outward, should more appear like entertainment than yours. You are welcome: but my uncle-father and aunt-mother are deceived. GUILDENSTERN In what, my dear lord? HAMLET I am but mad north-north-west: when the wind is southerly I know a hawk from a handsaw. [Enter POLONIUS] LORD POLONIUS Well be with you, gentlemen! HAMLET Hark you, Guildenstern; and you too: at each ear a hearer: that great baby you see there is not yet out of his swaddling-clouts. ROSENCRANTZ Happily he's the second time come to them; for they say an old man is twice a child. HAMLET I will prophesy he comes to tell me of the players; mark it. You say right, sir: o' Monday morning; 'twas so indeed. LORD POLONIUS My lord, I have news to tell you. HAMLET My lord, I have news to tell you. When Roscius was an actor in Rome,-- LORD POLONIUS The actors are come hither, my lord. HAMLET Buz, buz! LORD POLONIUS Upon mine honour,-- HAMLET Then came each actor on his ass,-- LORD POLONIUS The best actors in the world, either for tragedy, comedy, history, pastoral, pastoral-comical, historical-pastoral, tragical-historical, tragical- comical-historical-pastoral, scene individable, or poem unlimited: Seneca cannot be too heavy, nor Plautus too light. For the law of writ and the liberty, these are the only men. HAMLET O Jephthah, judge of Israel, what a treasure hadst thou! LORD POLONIUS What a treasure had he, my lord? HAMLET Why, 'One fair daughter and no more, The which he loved passing well.' LORD POLONIUS [Aside] Still on my daughter. HAMLET Am I not i' the right, old Jephthah? LORD POLONIUS If you call me Jephthah, my lord, I have a daughter that I love passing well. HAMLET Nay, that follows not. LORD POLONIUS What follows, then, my lord? HAMLET Why, 'As by lot, God wot,' and then, you know, 'It came to pass, as most like it was,'-- the first row of the pious chanson will show you more; for look, where my abridgement comes. [Enter four or five Players] You are welcome, masters; welcome, all. I am glad to see thee well. Welcome, good friends. O, my old friend! thy face is valenced since I saw thee last: comest thou to beard me in Denmark? What, my young lady and mistress! By'r lady, your ladyship is nearer to heaven than when I saw you last, by the altitude of a chopine. Pray God, your voice, like apiece of uncurrent gold, be not cracked within the ring. Masters, you are all welcome. We'll e'en to't like French falconers, fly at any thing we see: we'll have a speech straight: come, give us a taste of your quality; come, a passionate speech. First Player What speech, my lord? HAMLET I heard thee speak me a speech once, but it was never acted; or, if it was, not above once; for the play, I remember, pleased not the million; 'twas caviare to the general: but it was--as I received it, and others, whose judgments in such matters cried in the top of mine--an excellent play, well digested in the scenes, set down with as much modesty as cunning. I remember, one said there were no sallets in the lines to make the matter savoury, nor no matter in the phrase that might indict the author of affectation; but called it an honest method, as wholesome as sweet, and by very much more handsome than fine. One speech in it I chiefly loved: 'twas Aeneas' tale to Dido; and thereabout of it especially, where he speaks of Priam's slaughter: if it live in your memory, begin at this line: let me see, let me see-- 'The rugged Pyrrhus, like the Hyrcanian beast,'-- it is not so:--it begins with Pyrrhus:-- 'The rugged Pyrrhus, he whose sable arms, Black as his purpose, did the night resemble When he lay couched in the ominous horse, Hath now this dread and black complexion smear'd With heraldry more dismal; head to foot Now is he total gules; horridly trick'd With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sons, Baked and impasted with the parching streets, That lend a tyrannous and damned light To their lord's murder: roasted in wrath and fire, And thus o'er-sized with coagulate gore, With eyes like carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus Old grandsire Priam seeks.' So, proceed you. LORD POLONIUS 'Fore God, my lord, well spoken, with good accent and good discretion. First Player 'Anon he finds him Striking too short at Greeks; his antique sword, Rebellious to his arm, lies where it falls, Repugnant to command: unequal match'd, Pyrrhus at Priam drives; in rage strikes wide; But with the whiff and wind of his fell sword The unnerved father falls. Then senseless Ilium, Seeming to feel this blow, with flaming top Stoops to his base, and with a hideous crash Takes prisoner Pyrrhus' ear: for, lo! his sword, Which was declining on the milky head Of reverend Priam, seem'd i' the air to stick: So, as a painted tyrant, Pyrrhus stood, And like a neutral to his will and matter, Did nothing. But, as we often see, against some storm, A silence in the heavens, the rack stand still, The bold winds speechless and the orb below As hush as death, anon the dreadful thunder Doth rend the region, so, after Pyrrhus' pause, Aroused vengeance sets him new a-work; And never did the Cyclops' hammers fall On Mars's armour forged for proof eterne With less remorse than Pyrrhus' bleeding sword Now falls on Priam. Out, out, thou strumpet, Fortune! All you gods, In general synod 'take away her power; Break all the spokes and fellies from her wheel, And bowl the round nave down the hill of heaven, As low as to the fiends!' LORD POLONIUS This is too long. HAMLET It shall to the barber's, with your beard. Prithee, say on: he's for a jig or a tale of bawdry, or he sleeps: say on: come to Hecuba. First Player 'But who, O, who had seen the mobled queen--' HAMLET 'The mobled queen?' LORD POLONIUS That's good; 'mobled queen' is good. First Player 'Run barefoot up and down, threatening the flames With bisson rheum; a clout upon that head Where late the diadem stood, and for a robe, About her lank and all o'er-teemed loins, A blanket, in the alarm of fear caught up; Who this had seen, with tongue in venom steep'd, 'Gainst Fortune's state would treason have pronounced: But if the gods themselves did see her then When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sport In mincing with his sword her husband's limbs, The instant burst of clamour that she made, Unless things mortal move them not at all, Would have made milch the burning eyes of heaven, And passion in the gods.' LORD POLONIUS Look, whether he has not turned his colour and has tears in's eyes. Pray you, no more. HAMLET 'Tis well: I'll have thee speak out the rest soon. Good my lord, will you see the players well bestowed? Do you hear, let them be well used; 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. LORD POLONIUS My lord, I will use them according to their desert. HAMLET God's bodykins, man, much better: use every man after his desert, and who should 'scape whipping? Use them after your own honour and dignity: the less they deserve, the more merit is in your bounty. Take them in. LORD POLONIUS Come, sirs. HAMLET Follow him, friends: we'll hear a play to-morrow. [Exit POLONIUS with all the Players but the First] Dost thou hear me, old friend; can you play the Murder of Gonzago? First Player Ay, my lord. HAMLET We'll ha't to-morrow night. You could, for a need, study a speech of some dozen or sixteen lines, which I would set down and insert in't, could you not? First Player Ay, my lord. HAMLET Very well. Follow that lord; and look you mock him not. [Exit First Player] My good friends, I'll leave you till night: you are welcome to Elsinore. ROSENCRANTZ Good my lord! HAMLET Ay, so, God be wi' ye; [Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN] Now I am alone. 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. Yet I, A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak, Like John-a-dreams, unpregnant of my cause, And can say nothing; no, not for a king, Upon whose property and most dear life A damn'd defeat was made. Am I a coward? Who calls me villain? breaks my pate across? Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face? Tweaks me by the nose? gives me the lie i' the throat, As deep as to the lungs? who does me this? Ha! 'Swounds, I should take it: for it cannot be But I am pigeon-liver'd and lack gall To make oppression bitter, or ere this I should have fatted all the region kites With this slave's offal: bloody, bawdy villain! Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless villain! O, vengeance! Why, what an ass am I! This is most brave, That I, the son of a dear father murder'd, Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell, Must, like a whore, unpack my heart with words, And fall a-cursing, like a very drab, A scullion! Fie upon't! foh! About, my brain! I have heard That guilty creatures sitting at a play Have by the very cunning of the scene Been struck so to the soul that presently They have proclaim'd their malefactions; For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak With most miraculous organ. I'll have these players Play something like the murder of my father Before mine uncle: I'll observe his looks; I'll tent him to the quick: if he but blench, I know my course. The spirit that I have seen May be the devil: and the devil hath power To assume a pleasing shape; yea, and perhaps Out of my weakness and my melancholy, As he is very potent with such spirits, Abuses me to damn me: I'll have grounds More relative than this: the play 's the thing Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king. [Exit] HAMLET ACT III SCENE I A room in the castle. [Enter KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, POLONIUS, OPHELIA, ROSENCRANTZ, and GUILDENSTERN] KING CLAUDIUS And can you, by no drift of circumstance, Get from him why he puts on this confusion, Grating so harshly all his days of quiet With turbulent and dangerous lunacy? ROSENCRANTZ He does confess he feels himself distracted; But from what cause he will by no means speak. GUILDENSTERN Nor do we find him forward to be sounded, But, with a crafty madness, keeps aloof, When we would bring him on to some confession Of his true state. QUEEN GERTRUDE Did he receive you well? ROSENCRANTZ Most like a gentleman. GUILDENSTERN But with much forcing of his disposition. ROSENCRANTZ Niggard of question; but, of our demands, Most free in his reply. QUEEN GERTRUDE Did you assay him? To any pastime? ROSENCRANTZ Madam, it so fell out, that certain players We o'er-raught on the way: of these we told him; And there did seem in him a kind of joy To hear of it: they are about the court, And, as I think, they have already order This night to play before him. LORD POLONIUS 'Tis most true: And he beseech'd me to entreat your majesties To hear and see the matter. KING CLAUDIUS With all my heart; and it doth much content me To hear him so inclined. Good gentlemen, give him a further edge, And drive his purpose on to these delights. ROSENCRANTZ We shall, my lord. [Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN] KING CLAUDIUS Sweet Gertrude, leave us too; For we have closely sent for Hamlet hither, That he, as 'twere by accident, may here Affront Ophelia: Her father and myself, lawful espials, Will so bestow ourselves that, seeing, unseen, We may of their encounter frankly judge, And gather by him, as he is behaved, If 't be the affliction of his love or no That thus he suffers for. QUEEN GERTRUDE I shall obey you. And for your part, Ophelia, I do wish That your good beauties be the happy cause Of Hamlet's wildness: so shall I hope your virtues Will bring him to his wonted way again, To both your honours. OPHELIA Madam, I wish it may. [Exit QUEEN GERTRUDE] LORD POLONIUS 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 proved--that with devotion's visage And pious action we do sugar o'er The devil himself. KING CLAUDIUS [Aside] O, 'tis too true! How smart a lash that speech doth give my conscience! The harlot's cheek, beautied with plastering art, Is not more ugly to the thing that helps it Than is my deed to my most painted word: O heavy burthen! LORD POLONIUS I hear him coming: let's withdraw, my lord. [Exeunt KING CLAUDIUS and POLONIUS] [Enter HAMLET] HAMLET To be, or not to be: that is the question: 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? To die: to sleep; No more; and by a sleep to say we end The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep; To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause: there's the respect That makes calamity of so long life; For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of despised love, the law's delay, The insolence of office and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, The undiscover'd country from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; And thus the native hue of resolution Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, And enterprises of great pith and moment With this regard their currents turn awry, And lose the name of action.--Soft you now! The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons Be all my sins remember'd. OPHELIA Good my lord, How does your honour for this many a day? HAMLET I humbly thank you; well, well, well. OPHELIA My lord, I have remembrances of yours, That I have longed long to re-deliver; I pray you, now receive them. HAMLET No, not I; I never gave you aught. OPHELIA My honour'd lord, you know right well you did; And, with them, words of so sweet breath composed As made the things more rich: their perfume lost, Take these again; for to the noble mind Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind. There, my lord. HAMLET Ha, ha! are you honest? OPHELIA My lord? HAMLET Are you fair? OPHELIA What means your lordship? HAMLET That if you be honest and fair, your honesty should admit no discourse to your beauty. OPHELIA Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce than with honesty? HAMLET Ay, truly; for the power of beauty will sooner transform honesty from what it is to a bawd than the force of honesty can translate beauty into his likeness: this was sometime a paradox, but now the time gives it proof. I did love you once. OPHELIA Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so. HAMLET You should not have believed me; for virtue cannot so inoculate our old stock but we shall relish of it: I loved you not. OPHELIA I was the more deceived. HAMLET 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. What should such fellows as I do crawling between earth and heaven? We are arrant knaves, all; believe none of us. Go thy ways to a nunnery. Where's your father? OPHELIA At home, my lord. HAMLET Let the doors be shut upon him, that he may play the fool no where but in's own house. Farewell. OPHELIA O, help him, you sweet heavens! HAMLET If thou dost marry, I'll give thee this plague for thy dowry: be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape calumny. Get thee to a nunnery, go: farewell. Or, if thou wilt needs marry, marry a fool; for wise men know well enough what monsters you make of them. To a nunnery, go, and quickly too. Farewell. OPHELIA O heavenly powers, restore him! HAMLET I have heard of your paintings too, well enough; God has given you one face, and you make yourselves another: you jig, you amble, and you lisp, and nick-name God's creatures, and make your wantonness your ignorance. Go to, I'll no more on't; it hath made me mad. I say, we will have no more marriages: those that are married already, all but one, shall live; the rest shall keep as they are. To a nunnery, go. [Exit] OPHELIA O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown! The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's, eye, tongue, sword; The expectancy and rose of the fair state, The glass of fashion and the mould of form, The observed of all observers, quite, quite down! And I, of ladies most deject and wretched, That suck'd the honey of his music vows, Now see that noble and most sovereign reason, Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh; That unmatch'd form and feature of blown youth Blasted with ecstasy: O, woe is me, To have seen what I have seen, see what I see! [Re-enter KING CLAUDIUS and POLONIUS] KING CLAUDIUS Love! his affections do not that way tend; Nor what he spake, though it lack'd form a little, Was not like madness. There's something in his soul, O'er which his melancholy sits on brood; And I do doubt the hatch and the disclose Will be some danger: which for to prevent, I have in quick determination Thus set it down: he shall with speed to England, For the demand of our neglected tribute Haply the seas and countries different With variable objects shall expel This something-settled matter in his heart, Whereon his brains still beating puts him thus From fashion of himself. What think you on't? LORD POLONIUS It shall do well: but yet do I believe The origin and commencement of his grief Sprung from neglected love. How now, Ophelia! You need not tell us what Lord Hamlet said; We heard it all. My lord, do as you please; But, if you hold it fit, after the play Let his queen mother all alone entreat him To show his grief: let her be round with him; And I'll be placed, so please you, in the ear Of all their conference. If she find him not, To England send him, or confine him where Your wisdom best shall think. KING CLAUDIUS It shall be so: Madness in great ones must not unwatch'd go. [Exeunt] HAMLET ACT III SCENE II A hall in the castle. [Enter HAMLET and Players] HAMLET Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, trippingly on the tongue: but if you mouth it, as many of your players do, I had as lief the town-crier spoke my lines. Nor do not saw the air too much with your hand, thus, but use all gently; for in the very torrent, tempest, and, as I may say, the whirlwind of passion, you must acquire and beget a temperance that may give it smoothness. O, it offends me to the soul to hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings, who for the most part are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumbshows and noise: I would have such a fellow whipped for o'erdoing Termagant; it out-herods Herod: pray you, avoid it. First Player I warrant your honour. HAMLET Be not too tame neither, but let your own discretion be your tutor: suit the action to the word, the word to the action; with this special o'erstep not the modesty of nature: for any thing so overdone is from the purpose of playing, whose end, both at the first and now, was and is, to hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to nature; to show virtue her own feature, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time his form and pressure. 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, there be players that I have seen play, and heard others praise, and that highly, not to speak it profanely, that, neither having the accent of Christians nor the gait of Christian, pagan, nor man, have so strutted and bellowed that I have thought some of nature's journeymen had made men and not made them well, they imitated humanity so abominably. First Player I hope we have reformed that indifferently with us, sir. HAMLET 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: that's villanous, and shows a most pitiful ambition in the fool that uses it. Go, make you ready. [Exeunt Players] [Enter POLONIUS, ROSENCRANTZ, and GUILDENSTERN] How now, my lord! I will the king hear this piece of work? LORD POLONIUS And the queen too, and that presently. HAMLET Bid the players make haste. [Exit POLONIUS] Will you two help to hasten them? ROSENCRANTZ | | We will, my lord. GUILDENSTERN | [Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN] HAMLET What ho! Horatio! [Enter HORATIO] HORATIO Here, sweet lord, at your service. HAMLET Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man As e'er my conversation coped withal. HORATIO O, my dear lord,-- HAMLET Nay, do not think I flatter; For what advancement may I hope from thee That no revenue hast but thy good spirits, To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor be flatter'd? No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp, And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear? Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice And could of men distinguish, her election Hath seal'd thee for herself; for thou hast been As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing, A man that fortune's buffets and rewards Hast ta'en with equal thanks: and blest are those Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled, That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger To sound what stop she please. 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.--Something too much of this.-- There is a play to-night before the king; One scene of it comes near the circumstance Which I have told thee of my father's death: I prithee, when thou seest that act afoot, Even with the very comment of thy soul Observe mine uncle: if his occulted guilt Do not itself unkennel in one speech, It is a damned ghost that we have seen, And my imaginations are as foul As Vulcan's stithy. Give him heedful note; For I mine eyes will rivet to his face, And after we will both our judgments join In censure of his seeming. HORATIO Well, my lord: If he steal aught the whilst this play is playing, And 'scape detecting, I will pay the theft. HAMLET They are coming to the play; I must be idle: Get you a place. [Danish march. A flourish. Enter KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, POLONIUS, OPHELIA, ROSENCRANTZ, GUILDENSTERN, and others] KING CLAUDIUS How fares our cousin Hamlet? HAMLET Excellent, i' faith; of the chameleon's dish: I eat the air, promise-crammed: you cannot feed capons so. KING CLAUDIUS I have nothing with this answer, Hamlet; these words are not mine. HAMLET No, nor mine now. [To POLONIUS] My lord, you played once i' the university, you say? LORD POLONIUS That did I, my lord; and was accounted a good actor. HAMLET What did you enact? LORD POLONIUS I did enact Julius Caesar: I was killed i' the Capitol; Brutus killed me. HAMLET It was a brute part of him to kill so capital a calf there. Be the players ready? ROSENCRANTZ Ay, my lord; they stay upon your patience. QUEEN GERTRUDE Come hither, my dear Hamlet, sit by me. HAMLET No, good mother, here's metal more attractive. LORD POLONIUS [To KING CLAUDIUS] O, ho! do you mark that? HAMLET Lady, shall I lie in your lap? [Lying down at OPHELIA's feet] OPHELIA No, my lord. HAMLET I mean, my head upon your lap? OPHELIA Ay, my lord. HAMLET Do you think I meant country matters? OPHELIA I think nothing, my lord. HAMLET That's a fair thought to lie between maids' legs. OPHELIA What is, my lord? HAMLET Nothing. OPHELIA You are merry, my lord. HAMLET Who, I? OPHELIA Ay, my lord. HAMLET O God, your only jig-maker. What should a man do but be merry? for, look you, how cheerfully my mother looks, and my father died within these two hours. OPHELIA Nay, 'tis twice two months, my lord. HAMLET So long? Nay then, let the devil wear black, for I'll have a suit of sables. O heavens! die two months ago, and not forgotten yet? Then there's hope a great man's memory may outlive his life half a year: but, by'r lady, he must build churches, then; or else shall he suffer not thinking on, with the hobby-horse, whose epitaph is 'For, O, for, O, the hobby-horse is forgot.' [Hautboys play. The dumb-show enters] [Enter a King and a Queen very lovingly; the Queen embracing him, and he her. She kneels, and makes show of protestation unto him. He takes her up, and declines his head upon her neck: lays him down upon a bank of flowers: she, seeing him asleep, leaves him. Anon comes in a fellow, takes off his crown, kisses it, and pours poison in the King's ears, and exit. The Queen returns; finds the King dead, and makes passionate action. The Poisoner, with some two or three Mutes, comes in again, seeming to lament with her. The dead body is carried away. The Poisoner wooes the Queen with gifts: she seems loath and unwilling awhile, but in the end accepts his love] [Exeunt] OPHELIA What means this, my lord? HAMLET Marry, this is miching mallecho; it means mischief. OPHELIA Belike this show imports the argument of the play. [Enter Prologue] HAMLET We shall know by this fellow: the players cannot keep counsel; they'll tell all. OPHELIA Will he tell us what this show meant? HAMLET Ay, or any show that you'll show him: be not you ashamed to show, he'll not shame to tell you what it means. OPHELIA You are naught, you are naught: I'll mark the play. Prologue For us, and for our tragedy, Here stooping to your clemency, We beg your hearing patiently. [Exit] HAMLET Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring? OPHELIA 'Tis brief, my lord. HAMLET As woman's love. [Enter two Players, King and Queen] Player King Full thirty times hath Phoebus' cart gone round Neptune's salt wash and Tellus' orbed ground, And thirty dozen moons with borrow'd sheen About the world have times twelve thirties been, Since love our hearts and Hymen did our hands Unite commutual in most sacred bands. Player Queen So many journeys may the sun and moon Make us again count o'er ere love be done! But, woe is me, you are so sick of late, So far from cheer and from your former state, That I distrust you. 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. Now, what my love is, proof hath made you know; And as my love is sized, my fear is so: Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear; Where little fears grow great, great love grows there. Player King 'Faith, I must leave thee, love, and shortly too; My operant powers their functions leave to do: And thou shalt live in this fair world behind, Honour'd, beloved; and haply one as kind For husband shalt thou-- Player Queen O, confound the rest! Such love must needs be treason in my breast: In second husband let me be accurst! None wed the second but who kill'd the first. HAMLET [Aside] Wormwood, wormwood. Player Queen The instances that second marriage move Are base respects of thrift, but none of love: A second time I kill my husband dead, When second husband kisses me in bed. Player King I do believe you think what now you speak; But what we do determine oft we break. Purpose is but the slave to memory, Of violent birth, but poor validity; Which now, like fruit unripe, sticks on the tree; But fall, unshaken, when they mellow be. Most necessary 'tis that we forget To pay ourselves what to ourselves is debt: What to ourselves in passion we propose, The passion ending, doth the purpose lose. The violence of either grief or joy Their own enactures with themselves destroy: Where joy most revels, grief doth most lament; Grief joys, joy grieves, on slender accident. This world is not for aye, nor 'tis not strange That even our loves should with our fortunes change; For 'tis a question left us yet to prove, Whether love lead fortune, or else fortune love. The great man down, you mark his favourite flies; The poor advanced makes friends of enemies. And hitherto doth love on fortune tend; For who not needs shall never lack a friend, And who in want a hollow friend doth try, Directly seasons him his enemy. 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: So think thou wilt no second husband wed; But die thy thoughts when thy first lord is dead. Player Queen Nor earth to me give food, nor heaven light! Sport and repose lock from me day and night! To desperation turn my trust and hope! An anchor's cheer in prison be my scope! Each opposite that blanks the face of joy Meet what I would have well and it destroy! Both here and hence pursue me lasting strife, If, once a widow, ever I be wife! HAMLET If she should break it now! Player King 'Tis deeply sworn. Sweet, leave me here awhile; My spirits grow dull, and fain I would beguile The tedious day with sleep. [Sleeps] Player Queen Sleep rock thy brain, And never come mischance between us twain! [Exit] HAMLET Madam, how like you this play? QUEEN GERTRUDE The lady protests too much, methinks. HAMLET O, but she'll keep her word. KING CLAUDIUS Have you heard the argument? Is there no offence in 't? HAMLET No, no, they do but jest, poison in jest; no offence i' the world. KING CLAUDIUS What do you call the play? HAMLET The Mouse-trap. Marry, how? Tropically. This play is the image of a murder done in Vienna: Gonzago is the duke's name; his wife, Baptista: you shall see anon; 'tis a knavish piece of work: but what o' that? your majesty and we that have free souls, it touches us not: let the galled jade wince, our withers are unwrung. [Enter LUCIANUS] This is one Lucianus, nephew to the king. OPHELIA You are as good as a chorus, my lord. HAMLET I could interpret between you and your love, if I could see the puppets dallying. OPHELIA You are keen, my lord, you are keen. HAMLET It would cost you a groaning to take off my edge. OPHELIA Still better, and worse. HAMLET So you must take your husbands. Begin, murderer; pox, leave thy damnable faces, and begin. Come: 'the croaking raven doth bellow for revenge.' LUCIANUS Thoughts black, hands apt, drugs fit, and time agreeing; Confederate season, else no creature seeing; Thou mixture rank, of midnight weeds collected, With Hecate's ban thrice blasted, thrice infected, Thy natural magic and dire property, On wholesome life usurp immediately. [Pours the poison into the sleeper's ears] HAMLET He poisons him i' the garden for's estate. His name's Gonzago: the story is extant, and writ in choice Italian: you shall see anon how the murderer gets the love of Gonzago's wife. OPHELIA The king rises. HAMLET What, frighted with false fire! QUEEN GERTRUDE How fares my lord? LORD POLONIUS Give o'er the play. KING CLAUDIUS Give me some light: away! All Lights, lights, lights! [Exeunt all but HAMLET and HORATIO] HAMLET Why, let the stricken deer go weep, The hart ungalled play; For some must watch, while some must sleep: So runs the world away. Would not this, sir, and a forest of feathers-- if the rest of my fortunes turn Turk with me--with two Provincial roses on my razed shoes, get me a fellowship in a cry of players, sir? HORATIO Half a share. HAMLET A whole one, I. For thou dost know, O Damon dear, This realm dismantled was Of Jove himself; and now reigns here A very, very--pajock. HORATIO You might have rhymed. HAMLET O good Horatio, I'll take the ghost's word for a thousand pound. Didst perceive? HORATIO Very well, my lord. HAMLET Upon the talk of the poisoning? HORATIO I did very well note him. HAMLET Ah, ha! Come, some music! come, the recorders! For if the king like not the comedy, Why then, belike, he likes it not, perdy. Come, some music! [Re-enter ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN] GUILDENSTERN Good my lord, vouchsafe me a word with you. HAMLET Sir, a whole history. GUILDENSTERN The king, sir,-- HAMLET Ay, sir, what of him? GUILDENSTERN Is in his retirement marvellous distempered. HAMLET With drink, sir? GUILDENSTERN No, my lord, rather with choler. HAMLET Your wisdom should show itself more richer to signify this to his doctor; for, for me to put him to his purgation would perhaps plunge him into far more choler. GUILDENSTERN Good my lord, put your discourse into some frame and start not so wildly from my affair. HAMLET I am tame, sir: pronounce. GUILDENSTERN The queen, your mother, in most great affliction of spirit, hath sent me to you. HAMLET You are welcome. GUILDENSTERN Nay, good my lord, this courtesy is not of the right breed. 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. HAMLET Sir, I cannot. GUILDENSTERN What, my lord? HAMLET Make you a wholesome answer; my wit's diseased: but, sir, such answer as I can make, you shall command; or, rather, as you say, my mother: therefore no more, but to the matter: my mother, you say,-- ROSENCRANTZ Then thus she says; your behavior hath struck her into amazement and admiration. HAMLET O wonderful son, that can so astonish a mother! But is there no sequel at the heels of this mother's admiration? Impart. ROSENCRANTZ She desires to speak with you in her closet, ere you go to bed. HAMLET We shall obey, were she ten times our mother. Have you any further trade with us? ROSENCRANTZ My lord, you once did love me. HAMLET So I do still, by these pickers and stealers. ROSENCRANTZ Good my lord, what is your cause of distemper? you do, surely, bar the door upon your own liberty, if you deny your griefs to your friend. HAMLET Sir, I lack advancement. ROSENCRANTZ How can that be, when you have the voice of the king himself for your succession in Denmark? HAMLET Ay, but sir, 'While the grass grows,'--the proverb is something musty. [Re-enter Players with recorders] O, the recorders! let me see one. To withdraw with you:--why do you go about to recover the wind of me, as if you would drive me into a toil? GUILDENSTERN O, my lord, if my duty be too bold, my love is too unmannerly. HAMLET I do not well understand that. Will you play upon this pipe? GUILDENSTERN My lord, I cannot. HAMLET I pray you. GUILDENSTERN Believe me, I cannot. HAMLET I do beseech you. GUILDENSTERN I know no touch of it, my lord. HAMLET 'Tis as easy as lying: govern these ventages with your lingers and thumb, give it breath with your mouth, and it will discourse most eloquent music. Look you, these are the stops. GUILDENSTERN But these cannot I command to any utterance of harmony; I have not the skill. HAMLET Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me! You would play upon me; you would seem to know my stops; you would pluck out the heart of my mystery; you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass: and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ; yet cannot you make it speak. 'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, yet you cannot play upon me. [Enter POLONIUS] God bless you, sir! LORD POLONIUS My lord, the queen would speak with you, and presently. HAMLET Do you see yonder cloud that's almost in shape of a camel? LORD POLONIUS By the mass, and 'tis like a camel, indeed. HAMLET Methinks it is like a weasel. LORD POLONIUS It is backed like a weasel. HAMLET Or like a whale? LORD POLONIUS Very like a whale. HAMLET Then I will come to my mother by and by. They fool me to the top of my bent. I will come by and by. LORD POLONIUS I will say so. HAMLET By and by is easily said. [Exit POLONIUS] Leave me, friends. [Exeunt all but HAMLET] Tis now the very witching time of night, When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out Contagion to this world: now could I drink hot blood, And do such bitter business as the day Would quake to look on. Soft! now to my mother. O heart, lose not thy nature; let not ever The soul of Nero enter this firm bosom: Let me be cruel, not unnatural: I will speak daggers to her, but use none; My tongue and soul in this be hypocrites; How in my words soever she be shent, To give them seals never, my soul, consent! [Exit] HAMLET ACT III SCENE III A room in the castle. [Enter KING CLAUDIUS, ROSENCRANTZ, and GUILDENSTERN] KING CLAUDIUS I like him not, nor stands it safe with us To let his madness range. Therefore prepare you; I your commission will forthwith dispatch, And he to England shall along with you: The terms of our estate may not endure Hazard so dangerous as doth hourly grow Out of his lunacies. GUILDENSTERN We will ourselves provide: Most holy and religious fear it is To keep those many many bodies safe That live and feed upon your majesty. ROSENCRANTZ 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 depend and rest The lives of many. The cease of majesty Dies not alone; but, like a gulf, doth draw What's near it with it: it is a massy wheel, Fix'd on the summit of the highest mount, To whose huge spokes ten thousand lesser things Are mortised and adjoin'd; which, when it falls, Each small annexment, petty consequence, Attends the boisterous ruin. Never alone Did the king sigh, but with a general groan. KING CLAUDIUS Arm you, I pray you, to this speedy voyage; For we will fetters put upon this fear, Which now goes too free-footed. ROSENCRANTZ | | We will haste us. GUILDENSTERN | [Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN] [Enter POLONIUS] LORD POLONIUS My lord, he's going to his mother's closet: Behind the arras I'll convey myself, To hear the process; and 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. Fare you well, my liege: I'll call upon you ere you go to bed, And tell you what I know. KING CLAUDIUS Thanks, dear my lord. [Exit POLONIUS] O, my offence is rank it smells to heaven; It hath the primal eldest curse upon't, A brother's murder. Pray can I not, Though inclination be as sharp as will: My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent; And, like a man to double business bound, I stand in pause where I shall first begin, And both neglect. What if this cursed hand Were thicker than itself with brother's blood, Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves mercy But to confront the visage of offence? And what's in prayer but this two-fold force, To be forestalled ere we come to fall, Or pardon'd being down? Then I'll look up; My fault is past. But, O, what form of prayer Can serve my turn? 'Forgive me my foul murder'? That cannot be; since I am still possess'd Of those effects for which I did the murder, My crown, mine own ambition and my queen. May one be pardon'd and retain the 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; There is no shuffling, there the action lies In his true nature; and we ourselves compell'd, Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults, To give in evidence. What then? what rests? Try what repentance can: what can it not? Yet what can it when one can not repent? O wretched state! O bosom black as death! O limed soul, that, struggling to be free, Art more engaged! Help, angels! Make assay! Bow, stubborn knees; and, heart with strings of steel, Be soft as sinews of the newborn babe! All may be well. [Retires and kneels] [Enter HAMLET] HAMLET Now might I do it pat, now he is praying; And now I'll do't. And so he goes to heaven; And so am I revenged. That would be scann'd: A villain kills my father; and for that, I, his sole son, do this same villain send To heaven. O, this is hire and salary, not revenge. He took my father grossly, full of bread; With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May; And how his audit stands who knows save heaven? But in our circumstance and course of thought, 'Tis heavy with him: and am I then revenged, To take him in the purging of his soul, When he is fit and season'd for his passage? No! Up, sword; and know thou a more horrid hent: When he is drunk asleep, or in his rage, Or in the incestuous pleasure of his bed; At gaming, swearing, or about some act That has no relish of salvation in't; Then trip him, that his heels may kick at heaven, And that his soul may be as damn'd and black As hell, whereto it goes. My mother stays: This physic but prolongs thy sickly days. [Exit] KING CLAUDIUS [Rising] My words fly up, my thoughts remain below: Words without thoughts never to heaven go. [Exit] HAMLET ACT III SCENE IV The Queen's closet. [Enter QUEEN MARGARET and POLONIUS] LORD POLONIUS He will come straight. Look you lay home to him: Tell him his pranks have been too broad to bear with, And that your grace hath screen'd and stood between Much heat and him. I'll sconce me even here. Pray you, be round with him. HAMLET [Within] Mother, mother, mother! QUEEN GERTRUDE I'll warrant you, Fear me not: withdraw, I hear him coming. [POLONIUS hides behind the arras] [Enter HAMLET] HAMLET Now, mother, what's the matter? QUEEN GERTRUDE Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended. HAMLET Mother, you have my father much offended. QUEEN GERTRUDE Come, come, you answer with an idle tongue. HAMLET Go, go, you question with a wicked tongue. QUEEN GERTRUDE Why, how now, Hamlet! HAMLET What's the matter now? QUEEN GERTRUDE Have you forgot me? HAMLET 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. QUEEN GERTRUDE Nay, then, I'll set those to you that can speak. HAMLET Come, come, and sit you down; you shall not budge; You go not till I set you up a glass Where you may see the inmost part of you. QUEEN GERTRUDE What wilt thou do? thou wilt not murder me? Help, help, ho! LORD POLONIUS [Behind] What, ho! help, help, help! HAMLET [Drawing] How now! a rat? Dead, for a ducat, dead! [Makes a pass through the arras] LORD POLONIUS [Behind] O, I am slain! [Falls and dies] QUEEN GERTRUDE O me, what hast thou done? HAMLET Nay, I know not: Is it the king? QUEEN GERTRUDE O, what a rash and bloody deed is this! HAMLET A bloody deed! almost as bad, good mother, As kill a king, and marry with his brother. QUEEN GERTRUDE As kill a king! HAMLET Ay, lady, 'twas my word. [Lifts up the array and discovers POLONIUS] Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell! I took thee for thy better: take thy fortune; Thou find'st to be too busy is some danger. Leave wringing of your hands: peace! sit you down, And let me wring your heart; for so I shall, If it be made of penetrable stuff, If damned custom have not brass'd it so That it is proof and bulwark against sense. QUEEN GERTRUDE What have I done, that thou darest wag thy tongue In noise so rude against me? HAMLET Such an act That blurs the grace and blush of modesty, Calls virtue hypocrite, takes off the rose From the fair forehead of an innocent love And sets a blister there, makes marriage-vows As false as dicers' oaths: 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. QUEEN GERTRUDE Ay me, what act, That roars so loud, and thunders in the index? HAMLET Look here, upon this picture, and on this, The counterfeit presentment of two brothers. See, what a grace was seated on this brow; Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himself; An eye like Mars, to threaten and command; A station like the herald Mercury New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill; A combination and a form indeed, Where every god did seem to set his seal, To give the world assurance of a man: This was your husband. Look you now, what follows: Here is your husband; like a mildew'd ear, Blasting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes? Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed, And batten on this moor? Ha! have you eyes? You cannot call it love; for at your age The hey-day in the blood is tame, it's humble, And waits upon the judgment: and what judgment Would step from this to this? Sense, sure, you have, Else could you not have motion; but sure, that sense Is apoplex'd; for madness would not err, Nor sense to ecstasy was ne'er so thrall'd But it reserved some quantity of choice, To serve in such a difference. What devil was't That thus hath cozen'd you at hoodman-blind? Eyes without feeling, feeling without sight, Ears without hands or eyes, smelling sans all, Or but a sickly part of one true sense Could not so mope. O shame! where is thy blush? Rebellious hell, If thou canst mutine in a matron's bones, To flaming youth let virtue be as wax, And melt in her own fire: proclaim no shame When the compulsive ardour gives the charge, Since frost itself as actively doth burn And reason panders will. QUEEN GERTRUDE 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. HAMLET Nay, but to live In the rank sweat of an enseamed bed, Stew'd in corruption, honeying and making love Over the nasty sty,-- QUEEN GERTRUDE O, speak to me no more; These words, like daggers, enter in mine ears; No more, sweet Hamlet! HAMLET A murderer and a villain; A slave that is not twentieth part the tithe Of your precedent lord; a vice of kings; A cutpurse of the empire and the rule, That from a shelf the precious diadem stole, And put it in his pocket! QUEEN GERTRUDE No more! HAMLET A king of shreds and patches,-- [Enter Ghost] Save me, and hover o'er me with your wings, You heavenly guards! What would your gracious figure? QUEEN GERTRUDE Alas, he's mad! HAMLET Do you not come your tardy son to chide, That, lapsed in time and passion, lets go by The important acting of your dread command? O, say! Ghost Do not forget: this visitation Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose. But, look, amazement on thy mother sits: O, step between her and her fighting soul: Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works: Speak to her, Hamlet. HAMLET How is it with you, lady? QUEEN GERTRUDE Alas, how is't with you, That you do bend your eye on vacancy And with the incorporal air do hold discourse? Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep; And, as the sleeping soldiers in the alarm, Your bedded hair, like life in excrements, Starts up, and stands on end. O gentle son, Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper Sprinkle cool patience. Whereon do you look? HAMLET On him, on him! Look you, how pale he glares! His form and cause conjoin'd, preaching to stones, Would make them capable. Do not look upon me; Lest with this piteous action you convert My stern effects: then what I have to do Will want true colour; tears perchance for blood. QUEEN GERTRUDE To whom do you speak this? HAMLET Do you see nothing there? QUEEN GERTRUDE Nothing at all; yet all that is I see. HAMLET Nor did you nothing hear? QUEEN GERTRUDE No, nothing but ourselves. HAMLET Why, look you there! look, how it steals away! My father, in his habit as he lived! Look, where he goes, even now, out at the portal! [Exit Ghost] QUEEN GERTRUDE This the very coinage of your brain: This bodiless creation ecstasy Is very cunning in. HAMLET Ecstasy! My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep time, And makes as healthful music: it is not madness That I have utter'd: bring me to the test, And I the matter will re-word; which madness Would gambol from. Mother, for love of grace, Lay not that mattering unction to your soul, That not your trespass, but my madness speaks: It will but skin and film the ulcerous place, Whilst rank corruption, mining all within, Infects unseen. 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. Forgive me this my virtue; For in the fatness of these pursy times Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg, Yea, curb and woo for leave to do him good. QUEEN GERTRUDE O Hamlet, thou hast cleft my heart in twain. HAMLET O, throw away the worser part of it, And live the purer with the other half. Good night: but go not to mine uncle's bed; Assume a virtue, if you have it not. That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat, Of habits devil, is angel yet in this, That to the use of actions fair and good He likewise gives a frock or livery, That aptly is put on. Refrain to-night, And that shall lend a kind of easiness To the next abstinence: the next more easy; For use almost can change the stamp of nature, And either [ ] the devil, or throw him out With wondrous potency. Once more, good night: And when you are desirous to be bless'd, I'll blessing beg of you. For this same lord, [Pointing to POLONIUS] I do repent: but heaven hath pleased it so, To punish me with this and this with me, That I must be their scourge and minister. I will bestow him, and will answer well The death I gave him. So, again, good night. I must be cruel, only to be kind: Thus bad begins and worse remains behind. One word more, good lady. QUEEN GERTRUDE What shall I do? HAMLET Not this, by no means, that I bid you do: Let the bloat king tempt you again to bed; Pinch wanton on your cheek; call you his mouse; And let him, for a pair of reechy kisses, Or paddling in your neck with his damn'd fingers, Make you to ravel all this matter out, That I essentially am not in madness, But mad in craft. 'Twere good you let him know; For who, that's but a queen, fair, sober, wise, Would from a paddock, from a bat, a gib, Such dear concernings hide? who would do so? No, in despite of sense and secrecy, Unpeg the basket on the house's top. Let the birds fly, and, like the famous ape, To try conclusions, in the basket creep, And break your own neck down. QUEEN GERTRUDE Be thou assured, if words be made of breath, And breath of life, I have no life to breathe What thou hast said to me. HAMLET I must to England; you know that? QUEEN GERTRUDE Alack, I had forgot: 'tis so concluded on. HAMLET There's letters seal'd: and my two schoolfellows, Whom I will trust as I will adders fang'd, They bear the mandate; they must sweep my way, And marshal me to knavery. Let it work; For 'tis the sport to have the engineer Hoist with his own petard: and 't shall go hard But I will delve one yard below their mines, And blow them at the moon: O, 'tis most sweet, When in one line two crafts directly meet. This man shall set me packing: I'll lug the guts into the neighbour room. Mother, good night. Indeed this counsellor Is now most still, most secret and most grave, Who was in life a foolish prating knave. Come, sir, to draw toward an end with you. Good night, mother. [Exeunt severally; HAMLET dragging in POLONIUS] HAMLET ACT IV SCENE I A room in the castle. [Enter KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, ROSENCRANTZ, and GUILDENSTERN] KING CLAUDIUS There's matter in these sighs, these profound heaves: You must translate: 'tis fit we understand them. Where is your son? QUEEN GERTRUDE Bestow this place on us a little while. [Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN] Ah, my good lord, what have I seen to-night! KING CLAUDIUS What, Gertrude? How does Hamlet? QUEEN GERTRUDE Mad as the sea and wind, when both contend Which is the mightier: 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. KING CLAUDIUS O heavy deed! It had been so with us, had we been there: His liberty is full of threats to all; To you yourself, to us, to every one. Alas, how shall this bloody deed be answer'd? It will be laid to us, whose providence Should have kept short, restrain'd and out of haunt, This mad young 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. Where is he gone? QUEEN GERTRUDE To draw apart the body he hath kill'd: O'er whom his very madness, like some ore Among a mineral of metals base, Shows itself pure; he weeps for what is done. KING CLAUDIUS O Gertrude, come away! The sun no sooner shall the mountains touch, But we will ship him hence: and this vile deed We must, with all our majesty and skill, Both countenance and excuse. Ho, Guildenstern! [Re-enter ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN] Friends both, go join you with some further aid: Hamlet in madness hath Polonius slain, And from his mother's closet hath he dragg'd him: Go seek him out; speak fair, and bring the body Into the chapel. I pray you, haste in this. [Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN] Come, Gertrude, we'll call up our wisest friends; And let them know, both what we mean to do, And what's untimely done [ ] Whose whisper o'er the world's diameter, As level as the cannon to his blank, Transports his poison'd shot, may miss our name, And hit the woundless air. O, come away! My soul is full of discord and dismay. [Exeunt] HAMLET ACT IV SCENE II Another room in the castle. [Enter HAMLET] HAMLET Safely stowed. ROSENCRANTZ: | | [Within] Hamlet! Lord Hamlet! GUILDENSTERN: | HAMLET What noise? who calls on Hamlet? O, here they come. [Enter ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN] ROSENCRANTZ What have you done, my lord, with the dead body? HAMLET Compounded it with dust, whereto 'tis kin. ROSENCRANTZ Tell us where 'tis, that we may take it thence And bear it to the chapel. HAMLET Do not believe it. ROSENCRANTZ Believe what? HAMLET That I can keep your counsel and not mine own. Besides, to be demanded of a sponge! what replication should be made by the son of a king? ROSENCRANTZ Take you me for a sponge, my lord? HAMLET Ay, sir, that soaks up the king's countenance, his rewards, his authorities. But such officers do the king best service in the end: he keeps them, like an ape, in the corner of his jaw; first mouthed, to be last swallowed: when he needs what you have gleaned, it is but squeezing you, and, sponge, you shall be dry again. ROSENCRANTZ I understand you not, my lord. HAMLET I am glad of it: a knavish speech sleeps in a foolish ear. ROSENCRANTZ My lord, you must tell us where the body is, and go with us to the king. HAMLET The body is with the king, but the king is not with the body. The king is a thing-- GUILDENSTERN A thing, my lord! HAMLET Of nothing: bring me to him. Hide fox, and all after. [Exeunt] HAMLET ACT IV SCENE III Another room in the castle. [Enter KING CLAUDIUS, attended] KING CLAUDIUS I have sent to seek him, and to find the body. How dangerous is it that this man goes loose! Yet must not we put the strong law on him: He's loved of the distracted multitude, Who like not in their judgment, but their eyes; And where tis so, the offender's scourge is weigh'd, But never the offence. To bear all smooth and even, This sudden sending him away must seem Deliberate pause: diseases desperate grown By desperate appliance are relieved, Or not at all. [Enter ROSENCRANTZ] How now! what hath befall'n? ROSENCRANTZ Where the dead body is bestow'd, my lord, We cannot get from him. KING CLAUDIUS But where is he? ROSENCRANTZ Without, my lord; guarded, to know your pleasure. KING CLAUDIUS Bring him before us. ROSENCRANTZ Ho, Guildenstern! bring in my lord. [Enter HAMLET and GUILDENSTERN] KING CLAUDIUS Now, Hamlet, where's Polonius? HAMLET At supper. KING CLAUDIUS At supper! where? HAMLET Not where he eats, but where he is eaten: a certain convocation of politic worms are e'en at him. Your worm is your only emperor for diet: we fat all creatures else to fat us, and we fat ourselves for maggots: your fat king and your lean beggar is but variable service, two dishes, but to one table: that's the end. KING CLAUDIUS Alas, alas! HAMLET A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a king, and cat of the fish that hath fed of that worm. KING CLAUDIUS What dost you mean by this? HAMLET Nothing but to show you how a king may go a progress through the guts of a beggar. KING CLAUDIUS Where is Polonius? HAMLET In heaven; send hither to see: if your messenger find him not there, seek him i' the other place yourself. But indeed, if you find him not within this month, you shall nose him as you go up the stairs into the lobby. KING CLAUDIUS Go seek him there. [To some Attendants] HAMLET He will stay till ye come. [Exeunt Attendants] KING CLAUDIUS Hamlet, this deed, for thine especial safety,-- Which we do tender, as we dearly grieve For that which thou hast done,--must send thee hence With fiery quickness: therefore prepare thyself; The bark is ready, and the wind at help, The associates tend, and every thing is bent For England. HAMLET For England! KING CLAUDIUS Ay, Hamlet. HAMLET Good. KING CLAUDIUS So is it, if thou knew'st our purposes. HAMLET I see a cherub that sees them. But, come; for England! Farewell, dear mother. KING CLAUDIUS Thy loving father, Hamlet. HAMLET My mother: father and mother is man and wife; man and wife is one flesh; and so, my mother. Come, for England! [Exit] KING CLAUDIUS Follow him at foot; tempt him with speed aboard; Delay it not; I'll have him hence to-night: Away! for every thing is seal'd and done That else leans on the affair: pray you, make haste. [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. Do it, England; For like the hectic in my blood he rages, And thou must cure me: till I know 'tis done, Howe'er my haps, my joys were ne'er begun. [Exit] HAMLET ACT IV SCENE IV A plain in Denmark. [Enter FORTINBRAS, a Captain, and Soldiers, marching] PRINCE FORTINBRAS Go, captain, from me greet the Danish king; Tell him that, by his licence, Fortinbras Craves the conveyance of a promised march Over his kingdom. You know the rendezvous. If that his majesty would aught with us, We shall express our duty in his eye; And let him know so. Captain I will do't, my lord. PRINCE FORTINBRAS Go softly on. [Exeunt FORTINBRAS and Soldiers] [Enter HAMLET, ROSENCRANTZ, GUILDENSTERN, and others] HAMLET Good sir, whose powers are these? Captain They are of Norway, sir. HAMLET How purposed, sir, I pray you? Captain Against some part of Poland. HAMLET Who commands them, sir? Captain The nephews to old Norway, Fortinbras. HAMLET Goes it against the main of Poland, sir, Or for some frontier? Captain 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. To pay five ducats, five, I would not farm it; Nor will it yield to Norway or the Pole A ranker rate, should it be sold in fee. HAMLET Why, then the Polack never will defend it. Captain Yes, it is already garrison'd. HAMLET Two thousand souls and twenty thousand ducats Will not debate the question of this straw: This is the imposthume of much wealth and peace, That inward breaks, and shows no cause without Why the man dies. I humbly thank you, sir. Captain God be wi' you, sir. [Exit] ROSENCRANTZ Wilt please you go, my lord? HAMLET I'll be with you straight go a little before. [Exeunt all except HAMLET] How all occasions do inform against me, And spur my dull revenge! What is a man, If his chief good and market of his time Be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more. Sure, he that made us with such large discourse, Looking before and after, gave us not That capability and god-like reason To fust in us unused. Now, whether it be Bestial oblivion, or some craven scruple Of thinking too precisely on the event, A thought which, quarter'd, hath but one part wisdom And ever three parts coward, I do not know Why yet I live to say 'This thing's to do;' Sith I have cause and will and strength and means To do't. Examples gross as earth exhort me: Witness this army of such mass and charge Led by a delicate and tender prince, Whose spirit with divine ambition puff'd Makes mouths at the invisible event, Exposing what is mortal and unsure To all that fortune, death and danger dare, Even for an egg-shell. 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. How stand I then, That have a father kill'd, a mother stain'd, Excitements of my reason and my blood, And let all sleep? while, to my shame, I see The imminent death of twenty thousand men, That, for a fantasy and trick of fame, Go to their graves like beds, fight for a plot Whereon the numbers cannot try the cause, Which is not tomb enough and continent To hide the slain? O, from this time forth, My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth! [Exit] HAMLET ACT IV SCENE V Elsinore. A room in the castle. [Enter QUEEN GERTRUDE, HORATIO, and a Gentleman] QUEEN GERTRUDE I will not speak with her. Gentleman She is importunate, indeed distract: Her mood will needs be pitied. QUEEN GERTRUDE What would she have? Gentleman She speaks much of her father; says she hears There's tricks i' the world; and hems, and beats her heart; Spurns enviously at straws; speaks things in doubt, That carry but half sense: her speech is nothing, Yet the unshaped use of it doth move The hearers to collection; they aim at it, And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts; Which, as her winks, and nods, and gestures yield them, Indeed would make one think there might be thought, Though nothing sure, yet much unhappily. HORATIO 'Twere good she were spoken with; for she may strew Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds. QUEEN GERTRUDE Let her come in. [Exit HORATIO] To my sick soul, as sin's true nature is, Each toy seems prologue to some great amiss: So full of artless jealousy is guilt, It spills itself in fearing to be spilt. [Re-enter HORATIO, with OPHELIA] OPHELIA Where is the beauteous majesty of Denmark? QUEEN GERTRUDE How now, Ophelia! OPHELIA [Sings] How should I your true love know From another one? By his cockle hat and staff, And his sandal shoon. QUEEN GERTRUDE Alas, sweet lady, what imports this song? OPHELIA Say you? nay, pray you, mark. [Sings] He is dead and gone, lady, He is dead and gone; At his head a grass-green turf, At his heels a stone. QUEEN GERTRUDE Nay, but, Ophelia,-- OPHELIA Pray you, mark. [Sings] White his shroud as the mountain snow,-- [Enter KING CLAUDIUS] QUEEN GERTRUDE Alas, look here, my lord. OPHELIA [Sings] Larded with sweet flowers Which bewept to the grave did go With true-love showers. KING CLAUDIUS How do you, pretty lady? OPHELIA Well, God 'ild you! They say the owl was a baker's daughter. Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be. God be at your table! KING CLAUDIUS Conceit upon her father. OPHELIA Pray you, let's have no words of this; but when they ask you what it means, say you this: [Sings] To-morrow is Saint Valentine's day, All in the morning betime, And I a maid at your window, To be your Valentine. Then up he rose, and donn'd his clothes, And dupp'd the chamber-door; Let in the maid, that out a maid Never departed more. KING CLAUDIUS Pretty Ophelia! OPHELIA 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. Quoth she, before you tumbled me, You promised me to wed. So would I ha' done, by yonder sun, An thou hadst not come to my bed. KING CLAUDIUS How long hath she been thus? OPHELIA I hope all will be well. We must be patient: but I cannot choose but weep, to think they should lay him i' the cold ground. My brother shall know of it: and so I thank you for your good counsel. Come, my coach! Good night, ladies; good night, sweet ladies; good night, good night. [Exit] KING CLAUDIUS Follow her close; give her good watch, I pray you. [Exit HORATIO] O, this is the poison of deep grief; it springs All from her father's death. O Gertrude, Gertrude, When sorrows come, they come not single spies But in battalions. First, her father slain: Next, your son gone; and he most violent author Of his own just remove: the people muddied, Thick and unwholesome in their thoughts and whispers, For good Polonius' death; and we have done but greenly, In hugger-mugger to inter him: poor Ophelia Divided from herself and her fair judgment, Without the which we are pictures, or mere beasts: Last, and as much containing as all these, Her brother is in secret come from France; Feeds on his wonder, keeps himself in clouds, And wants not buzzers to infect his ear With pestilent speeches of his father's death; Wherein necessity, of matter beggar'd, Will nothing stick our person to arraign In ear and ear. O my dear Gertrude, this, Like to a murdering-piece, in many places Gives me superfluous death. [A noise within] QUEEN GERTRUDE Alack, what noise is this? KING CLAUDIUS Where are my Switzers? Let them guard the door. [Enter another Gentleman] What is the matter? Gentleman Save yourself, my lord: The ocean, overpeering of his list, Eats not the flats with more impetuous haste Than young Laertes, in a riotous head, O'erbears your officers. The rabble call him lord; And, as the world were now but to begin, Antiquity forgot, custom not known, The ratifiers and props of every word, They cry 'Choose we: Laertes shall be king:' Caps, hands, and tongues, applaud it to the clouds: 'Laertes shall be king, Laertes king!' QUEEN GERTRUDE How cheerfully on the false trail they cry! O, this is counter, you false Danish dogs! KING CLAUDIUS The doors are broke. [Noise within] [Enter LAERTES, armed; Danes following] LAERTES Where is this king? Sirs, stand you all without. Danes No, let's come in. LAERTES I pray you, give me leave. Danes We will, we will. [They retire without the door] LAERTES I thank you: keep the door. O thou vile king, Give me my father! QUEEN GERTRUDE Calmly, good Laertes. LAERTES That drop of blood that's calm proclaims me bastard, Cries cuckold to my father, brands the harlot Even here, between the chaste unsmirched brow Of my true mother. KING CLAUDIUS What is the cause, Laertes, That thy rebellion looks so giant-like? Let him go, Gertrude; do not fear our person: There's such divinity doth hedge a king, That treason can but peep to what it would, Acts little of his will. Tell me, Laertes, Why thou art thus incensed. Let him go, Gertrude. Speak, man. LAERTES Where is my father? KING CLAUDIUS Dead. QUEEN GERTRUDE But not by him. KING CLAUDIUS Let him demand his fill. LAERTES How came he dead? I'll not be juggled with: To hell, allegiance! vows, to the blackest devil! Conscience and grace, to the profoundest pit! I dare damnation. To this point I stand, That both the worlds I give to negligence, Let come what comes; only I'll be revenged Most thoroughly for my father. KING CLAUDIUS Who shall stay you? LAERTES My will, not all the world: And for my means, I'll husband them so well, They shall go far with little. KING CLAUDIUS Good Laertes, If you desire to know the certainty Of your dear father's death, is't writ in your revenge, That, swoopstake, you will draw both friend and foe, Winner and loser? LAERTES None but his enemies. KING CLAUDIUS Will you know them then? LAERTES To his good friends thus wide I'll ope my arms; And like the kind life-rendering pelican, Repast them with my blood. KING CLAUDIUS Why, now you speak Like a good child and a true gentleman. That I am guiltless of your father's death, And am most sensible in grief for it, It shall as level to your judgment pierce As day does to your eye. Danes [Within] Let her come in. LAERTES How now! what noise is that? [Re-enter OPHELIA] 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 moral 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. OPHELIA [Sings] They bore him barefaced on the bier; Hey non nonny, nonny, hey nonny; And in his grave rain'd many a tear:-- Fare you well, my dove! LAERTES Hadst thou thy wits, and didst persuade revenge, It could not move thus. OPHELIA [Sings] You must sing a-down a-down, An you call him a-down-a. O, how the wheel becomes it! It is the false steward, that stole his master's daughter. LAERTES This nothing's more than matter. OPHELIA There's rosemary, that's for remembrance; pray, love, remember: and there is pansies. that's for thoughts. LAERTES A document in madness, thoughts and remembrance fitted. OPHELIA There's fennel for you, and columbines: there's rue for you; and here's some for me: we may call it herb-grace o' Sundays: O you must wear your rue with a difference. There's a daisy: I would give you some violets, but they withered all when my father died: they say he made a good end,-- [Sings] For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy. LAERTES Thought and affliction, passion, hell itself, She turns to favour and to prettiness. OPHELIA [Sings] And will he not come again? And will he not come again? No, no, he is dead: Go to thy death-bed: He never will come again. His beard was as white as snow, All flaxen was his poll: He is gone, he is gone, And we cast away moan: God ha' mercy on his soul! And of all Christian souls, I pray God. God be wi' ye. [Exit] LAERTES Do you see this, O God? KING CLAUDIUS Laertes, I must commune with your grief, Or you deny me right. Go but apart, Make choice of whom your wisest friends you will. And they shall hear and judge 'twixt you and me: If by direct or by collateral hand They find us touch'd, we will our kingdom give, Our crown, our life, and all that we can ours, To you in satisfaction; but if not, Be you content to lend your patience to us, And we shall jointly labour with your soul To give it due content. LAERTES Let this be so; His means of death, his obscure funeral-- No trophy, sword, nor hatchment o'er his bones, No noble rite nor formal ostentation-- Cry to be heard, as 'twere from heaven to earth, That I must call't in question. KING CLAUDIUS So you shall; And where the offence is let the great axe fall. I pray you, go with me. [Exeunt] HAMLET ACT IV SCENE VI Another room in the castle. [Enter HORATIO and a Servant] HORATIO What are they that would speak with me? Servant Sailors, sir: they say they have letters for you. HORATIO Let them come in. [Exit Servant] I do not know from what part of the world I should be greeted, if not from Lord Hamlet. [Enter Sailors] First Sailor God bless you, sir. HORATIO Let him bless thee too. First Sailor He shall, sir, an't please him. There's a letter for you, sir; it comes from the ambassador that was bound for England; if your name be Horatio, as I am let to know it is. HORATIO [Reads] 'Horatio, when thou shalt have overlooked this, give these fellows some means to the king: they have letters for him. Ere we were two days old at sea, a pirate of very warlike appointment gave us chase. Finding ourselves too slow of sail, we put on a compelled valour, and in the grapple I boarded them: on the instant they got clear of our ship; so I alone became their prisoner. They have dealt with me like thieves of mercy: but they knew what they did; I am to do a good turn for them. Let the king have the letters I have sent; and repair thou to me with as much speed as thou wouldst fly death. I have words to speak in thine ear will make thee dumb; yet are they much too light for the bore of the matter. These good fellows will bring thee where I am. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern hold their course for England: of them I have much to tell thee. Farewell. 'He that thou knowest thine, HAMLET.' Come, I will make you way for these your letters; And do't the speedier, that you may direct me To him from whom you brought them. [Exeunt] HAMLET ACT IV SCENE VII Another room in the castle. [Enter KING CLAUDIUS and LAERTES] KING CLAUDIUS Now must your conscience my acquaintance seal, And you must put me in your heart for friend, Sith you have heard, and with a knowing ear, That he which hath your noble father slain Pursued my life. LAERTES It well appears: but tell me Why you proceeded not against these feats, So crimeful and so capital in nature, As by your safety, wisdom, all things else, You mainly were stirr'd up. KING CLAUDIUS O, for two special reasons; Which may to you, perhaps, seem much unsinew'd, But yet to me they are strong. The queen his mother Lives almost by his looks; and for myself-- My virtue or my plague, be it either which-- She's so conjunctive to my life and soul, That, as the star moves not but in his sphere, I could not but by her. 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 gyves 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. LAERTES And so have I a noble father lost; A sister driven into desperate terms, Whose worth, if praises may go back again, Stood challenger on mount of all the age For her perfections: but my revenge will come. KING CLAUDIUS Break not your sleeps for that: you must not think That we are made of stuff so flat and dull That we can let our beard be shook with danger And think it pastime. You shortly shall hear more: I loved your father, and we love ourself; And that, I hope, will teach you to imagine-- [Enter a Messenger] How now! what news? Messenger Letters, my lord, from Hamlet: This to your majesty; this to the queen. KING CLAUDIUS From Hamlet! who brought them? Messenger Sailors, my lord, they say; I saw them not: They were given me by Claudio; he received them Of him that brought them. KING CLAUDIUS Laertes, you shall hear them. Leave us. [Exit Messenger] [Reads] 'High and mighty, You shall know I am set naked on your kingdom. To-morrow shall I beg leave to see your kingly eyes: when I shall, first asking your pardon thereunto, recount the occasion of my sudden and more strange return. 'HAMLET.' What should this mean? Are all the rest come back? Or is it some abuse, and no such thing? LAERTES Know you the hand? KING CLAUDIUS 'Tis Hamlets character. 'Naked! And in a postscript here, he says 'alone.' Can you advise me? LAERTES I'm lost in it, my lord. But let him come; It warms the very sickness in my heart, That I shall live and tell him to his teeth, 'Thus didest thou.' KING CLAUDIUS If it be so, Laertes-- As how should it be so? how otherwise?-- Will you be ruled by me? LAERTES Ay, my lord; So you will not o'errule me to a peace. KING CLAUDIUS To thine own peace. If he be now return'd, As checking at his voyage, and that he means No more to undertake it, I will work him To an exploit, now ripe in my device, Under the which he shall not choose but fall: And for his death no wind of blame shall breathe, But even his mother shall uncharge the practise And call it accident. LAERTES My lord, I will be ruled; The rather, if you could devise it so That I might be the organ. KING CLAUDIUS It falls right. 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 sum of parts Did not together pluck such envy from him As did that one, and that, in my regard, Of the unworthiest siege. LAERTES What part is that, my lord? KING CLAUDIUS A very riband in the cap of youth, Yet needful too; for youth no less becomes The light and careless livery that it wears Than settled age his sables and his weeds, Importing health and graveness. Two months since, Here was a gentleman of Normandy:-- I've seen myself, and served against, the French, And they can well on horseback: but this gallant Had witchcraft in't; he grew unto his seat; And to such wondrous doing brought his horse, As he had been incorpsed and demi-natured With the brave beast: so far he topp'd my thought, That I, in forgery of shapes and tricks, Come short of what he did. LAERTES A Norman was't? KING CLAUDIUS A Norman. LAERTES Upon my life, Lamond. KING CLAUDIUS The very same. LAERTES I know him well: he is the brooch indeed And gem of all the nation. KING CLAUDIUS He made confession of you, And gave you such a masterly report For art and exercise in your defence And for your rapier most especially, That he cried out, 'twould be a sight indeed, If one could match you: the scrimers of their nation, He swore, had had neither motion, guard, nor eye, If you opposed them. Sir, this report of his Did Hamlet so envenom with his envy That he could nothing do but wish and beg Your sudden coming o'er, to play with him. Now, out of this,-- LAERTES What out of this, my lord? KING CLAUDIUS Laertes, was your father dear to you? Or are you like the painting of a sorrow, A face without a heart? LAERTES Why ask you this? KING CLAUDIUS 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. There lives within the very flame of love A kind of wick or snuff that will abate it; And nothing is at a like goodness still; For goodness, growing to a plurisy, Dies in his own too much: that we would do We should do when we would; for this 'would' changes And hath abatements and delays as many As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents; And then this 'should' is like a spendthrift sigh, That hurts by easing. But, to the quick o' the ulcer:-- Hamlet comes back: what would you undertake, To show yourself your father's son in deed More than in words? LAERTES To cut his throat i' the church. KING CLAUDIUS No place, indeed, should murder sanctuarize; Revenge should have no bounds. But, good Laertes, Will you do this, keep close within your chamber. Hamlet return'd shall know you are come home: We'll put on those shall praise your excellence And set a double varnish on the fame The Frenchman gave you, bring you in fine together And wager on your heads: 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 practise Requite him for your father. LAERTES I will do't: And, for that purpose, I'll anoint my sword. I bought an unction of a mountebank, So mortal that, but dip a knife in it, Where it draws blood no cataplasm so rare, Collected from all simples that have virtue Under the moon, can save the thing from death That is but scratch'd withal: I'll touch my point With this contagion, that, if I gall him slightly, It may be death. KING CLAUDIUS Let's further think of this; Weigh what convenience both of time and means May fit us to our shape: if this should fail, And that our drift look through our bad performance, 'Twere better not assay'd: therefore this project Should have a back or second, that might hold, If this should blast in proof. Soft! let me see: We'll make a solemn wager on your cunnings: I ha't. When in your motion you are hot and dry-- As make your bouts more violent to that end-- And that he calls for drink, I'll have prepared him A chalice for the nonce, whereon but sipping, If he by chance escape your venom'd stuck, Our purpose may hold there. [Enter QUEEN GERTRUDE] How now, sweet queen! QUEEN GERTRUDE One woe doth tread upon another's heel, So fast they follow; your sister's drown'd, Laertes. LAERTES Drown'd! O, where? QUEEN GERTRUDE 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 crow-flowers, 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 pendent boughs her coronet weeds Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke; When down her weedy trophies and herself Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide; And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up: Which time she chanted snatches of old tunes; As one incapable of her own distress, Or like a creature native and indued Unto that element: but long it could not be Till that her garments, heavy with their drink, Pull'd the poor wretch from her melodious lay To muddy death. LAERTES Alas, then, she is drown'd? QUEEN GERTRUDE Drown'd, drown'd. LAERTES Too much of water hast thou, poor Ophelia, And therefore I forbid my tears: but yet It is our trick; nature her custom holds, Let shame say what it will: when these are gone, The woman will be out. Adieu, my lord: I have a speech of fire, that fain would blaze, But that this folly douts it. [Exit] KING CLAUDIUS Let's follow, Gertrude: How much I had to do to calm his rage! Now fear I this will give it start again; Therefore let's follow. [Exeunt] HAMLET ACT V SCENE I A churchyard. [Enter two Clowns, with spades, &c] First Clown Is she to be buried in Christian burial that wilfully seeks her own salvation? Second Clown I tell thee she is: and therefore make her grave straight: the crowner hath sat on her, and finds it Christian burial. First Clown How can that be, unless she drowned herself in her own defence? Second Clown Why, 'tis found so. First Clown It must be 'se offendendo;' it cannot be else. For here lies the point: if I drown myself wittingly, it argues an act: and an act hath three branches: it is, to act, to do, to perform: argal, she drowned herself wittingly. Second Clown Nay, but hear you, goodman delver,-- First Clown Give me leave. Here lies the water; good: here stands the man; good; if the man go to this water, and drown himself, it is, will he, nill he, he goes,--mark you that; but if the water come to him and drown him, he drowns not himself: argal, he that is not guilty of his own death shortens not his own life. Second Clown But is this law? First Clown Ay, marry, is't; crowner's quest law. Second Clown Will you ha' the truth on't? If this had not been a gentlewoman, she should have been buried out o' Christian burial. First Clown Why, there thou say'st: and the more pity that great folk should have countenance in this world to drown or hang themselves, more than their even Christian. Come, my spade. There is no ancient gentleman but gardeners, ditchers, and grave-makers: they hold up Adam's profession. Second Clown Was he a gentleman? First Clown He was the first that ever bore arms. Second Clown Why, he had none. First Clown What, art a heathen? How dost thou understand the Scripture? The Scripture says 'Adam digged:' could he dig without arms? I'll put another question to thee: if thou answerest me not to the purpose, confess thyself-- Second Clown Go to. First Clown What is he that builds stronger than either the mason, the shipwright, or the carpenter? Second Clown The gallows-maker; for that frame outlives a thousand tenants. First Clown I like thy wit well, in good faith: the gallows does well; but how does it well? it does well to those that do in: now thou dost ill to say the gallows is built stronger than the church: argal, the gallows may do well to thee. To't again, come. Second Clown 'Who builds stronger than a mason, a shipwright, or a carpenter?' First Clown Ay, tell me that, and unyoke. Second Clown Marry, now I can tell. First Clown To't. Second Clown Mass, I cannot tell. [Enter HAMLET and HORATIO, at a distance] First Clown Cudgel thy brains no more about it, for your dull ass will not mend his pace with beating; and, when you are asked this question next, say 'a grave-maker: 'the houses that he makes last till doomsday. Go, get thee to Yaughan: fetch me a stoup of liquor. [Exit Second Clown] [He digs and sings] In youth, when I did love, did love, Methought it was very sweet, To contract, O, the time, for, ah, my behove, O, methought, there was nothing meet. HAMLET Has this fellow no feeling of his business, that he sings at grave-making? HORATIO Custom hath made it in him a property of easiness. HAMLET 'Tis e'en so: the hand of little employment hath the daintier sense. First Clown [Sings] But age, with his stealing steps, Hath claw'd me in his clutch, And hath shipped me intil the land, As if I had never been such. [Throws up a skull] HAMLET That skull had a tongue in it, and could sing once: how the knave jowls it to the ground, as if it were Cain's jaw-bone, that did the first murder! It might be the pate of a politician, which this ass now o'er-reaches; one that would circumvent God, might it not? HORATIO It might, my lord. HAMLET Or of a courtier; which could say 'Good morrow, sweet lord! How dost thou, good lord?' This might be my lord such-a-one, that praised my lord such-a-one's horse, when he meant to beg it; might it not? HORATIO Ay, my lord. HAMLET Why, e'en so: and now my Lady Worm's; chapless, and knocked about the mazzard with a sexton's spade: here's fine revolution, an we had the trick to see't. Did these bones cost no more the breeding, but to play at loggats with 'em? mine ache to think on't. First Clown: [Sings] A pick-axe, and a spade, a spade, For and a shrouding sheet: O, a pit of clay for to be made For such a guest is meet. [Throws up another skull] HAMLET There's another: why may not that be the skull of a lawyer? Where be his quiddities now, his quillets, his cases, his tenures, and his tricks? why does he suffer this rude knave now to knock him about the sconce with a dirty shovel, and will not tell him of his action of battery? Hum! This fellow might be in's time a great buyer of land, with his statutes, his recognizances, his fines, his double vouchers, his recoveries: is this the fine of his fines, and the recovery of his recoveries, to have his fine pate full of fine dirt? will his vouchers vouch him no more of his purchases, and double ones too, than the length and breadth of a pair of indentures? The very conveyances of his lands will hardly lie in this box; and must the inheritor himself have no more, ha? HORATIO Not a jot more, my lord. HAMLET Is not parchment made of sheepskins? HORATIO Ay, my lord, and of calf-skins too. HAMLET They are sheep and calves which seek out assurance in that. I will speak to this fellow. Whose grave's this, sirrah? First Clown Mine, sir. [Sings] O, a pit of clay for to be made For such a guest is meet. HAMLET I think it be thine, indeed; for thou liest in't. First Clown You lie out on't, sir, and therefore it is not yours: for my part, I do not lie in't, and yet it is mine. HAMLET 'Thou dost lie in't, to be in't and say it is thine: 'tis for the dead, not for the quick; therefore thou liest. First Clown 'Tis a quick lie, sir; 'twill away gain, from me to you. HAMLET What man dost thou dig it for? First Clown For no man, sir. HAMLET What woman, then? First Clown For none, neither. HAMLET Who is to be buried in't? First Clown One that was a woman, sir; but, rest her soul, she's dead. HAMLET How absolute the knave is! we must speak by the card, or equivocation will undo us. By the Lord, Horatio, these three years I have taken a note of it; the age is grown so picked that the toe of the peasant comes so near the heel of the courtier, he gaffs his kibe. How long hast thou been a grave-maker? First Clown Of all the days i' the year, I came to't that day that our last king Hamlet overcame Fortinbras. HAMLET How long is that since? First Clown Cannot you tell that? every fool can tell that: it was the very day that young Hamlet was born; he that is mad, and sent into England. HAMLET Ay, marry, why was he sent into England? First Clown Why, because he was mad: he shall recover his wits there; or, if he do not, it's no great matter there. HAMLET Why? First Clown 'Twill, a not be seen in him there; there the men are as mad as he. HAMLET How came he mad? First Clown Very strangely, they say. HAMLET How strangely? First Clown Faith, e'en with losing his wits. HAMLET Upon what ground? First Clown Why, here in Denmark: I have been sexton here, man and boy, thirty years. HAMLET How long will a man lie i' the earth ere he rot? First Clown I' faith, if he be not rotten before he die--as we have many pocky corses now-a-days, that will scarce hold the laying in--he will last you some eight year or nine year: a tanner will last you nine year. HAMLET Why he more than another? First Clown Why, sir, his hide is so tanned with his trade, that he will keep out water a great while; and your water is a sore decayer of your whoreson dead body. Here's a skull now; this skull has lain in the earth three and twenty years. HAMLET Whose was it? First Clown A whoreson mad fellow's it was: whose do you think it was? HAMLET Nay, I know not. First Clown A pestilence on him for a mad rogue! a' poured a flagon of Rhenish on my head once. This same skull, sir, was Yorick's skull, the king's jester. HAMLET This? First Clown E'en that. HAMLET Let me see. [Takes the skull] Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rims at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one now, to mock your own grinning? quite chap-fallen? Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must come; make her laugh at that. Prithee, Horatio, tell me one thing. HORATIO What's that, my lord? HAMLET Dost thou think Alexander looked o' this fashion i' the earth? HORATIO E'en so. HAMLET And smelt so? pah! [Puts down the skull] HORATIO E'en so, my lord. HAMLET To what base uses we may return, Horatio! Why may not imagination trace the noble dust of Alexander, till he find it stopping a bung-hole? HORATIO 'Twere to consider too curiously, to consider so. HAMLET No, faith, not a jot; but to follow him thither with modesty enough, and likelihood to lead it: as thus: 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 to expel the winter flaw! But soft! but soft! aside: here comes the king. [Enter Priest, &c. in procession; the Corpse of OPHELIA, LAERTES and Mourners following; KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, their trains, &c] The queen, the courtiers: who is this they follow? And with such maimed rites? This doth betoken The corse they follow did with desperate hand Fordo its own life: 'twas of some estate. Couch we awhile, and mark. [Retiring with HORATIO] LAERTES What ceremony else? HAMLET That is Laertes, A very noble youth: mark. LAERTES What ceremony else? First Priest Her obsequies have been as far enlarged As we have warrantise: her death was doubtful; And, but that great command o'ersways the order, She should in ground unsanctified have lodged Till the last trumpet: for charitable prayers, Shards, flints and pebbles should be thrown on her; Yet here she is allow'd her virgin crants, Her maiden strewments and the bringing home Of bell and burial. LAERTES Must there no more be done? First Priest No more be done: We should profane the service of the dead To sing a requiem and such rest to her As to peace-parted souls. LAERTES Lay her i' the earth: And from her fair and unpolluted flesh May violets spring! I tell thee, churlish priest, A ministering angel shall my sister be, When thou liest howling. HAMLET What, the fair Ophelia! QUEEN GERTRUDE Sweets to the sweet: farewell! [Scattering flowers] I hoped thou shouldst have been my Hamlet's wife; I thought thy bride-bed to have deck'd, sweet maid, And not have strew'd thy grave. LAERTES O, treble woe Fall ten times treble on that cursed head, Whose wicked deed thy most ingenious sense Deprived thee of! Hold off the earth awhile, Till I have caught her once more in mine arms: [Leaps into the grave] Now pile your dust upon the quick and dead, Till of this flat a mountain you have made, To o'ertop old Pelion, or the skyish head Of blue Olympus. HAMLET [Advancing] What is he whose grief Bears such an emphasis? whose phrase of sorrow Conjures the wandering stars, and makes them stand Like wonder-wounded hearers? This is I, Hamlet the Dane. [Leaps into the grave] LAERTES The devil take thy soul! [Grappling with him] HAMLET Thou pray'st not well. I prithee, take thy fingers from my throat; For, though I am not splenitive and rash, Yet have I something in me dangerous, Which let thy wiseness fear: hold off thy hand. KING CLAUDIUS Pluck them asunder. QUEEN GERTRUDE Hamlet, Hamlet! All Gentlemen,-- HORATIO Good my lord, be quiet. [The Attendants part them, and they come out of the grave] HAMLET Why I will fight with him upon this theme Until my eyelids will no longer wag. QUEEN GERTRUDE O my son, what theme? HAMLET I loved Ophelia: forty thousand brothers Could not, with all their quantity of love, Make up my sum. What wilt thou do for her? KING CLAUDIUS O, he is mad, Laertes. QUEEN GERTRUDE For love of God, forbear him. HAMLET 'Swounds, show me what thou'lt do: Woo't weep? woo't fight? woo't fast? woo't tear thyself? Woo't drink up eisel? eat a crocodile? I'll do't. Dost thou come here to whine? To outface me with leaping in her grave? Be buried quick with her, and so will I: And, if thou prate of mountains, let them throw Millions of acres on us, till our ground, Singeing his pate against the burning zone, Make Ossa like a wart! Nay, an thou'lt mouth, I'll rant as well as thou. QUEEN GERTRUDE This is mere madness: And thus awhile the fit will work on him; Anon, as patient as the female dove, When that her golden couplets are disclosed, His silence will sit drooping. HAMLET Hear you, sir; What is the reason that you use me thus? I loved you ever: but it is no matter; Let Hercules himself do what he may, The cat will mew and dog will have his day. [Exit] KING CLAUDIUS I pray you, good Horatio, wait upon him. [Exit HORATIO] [To LAERTES] Strengthen your patience in our last night's speech; We'll put the matter to the present push. Good Gertrude, set some watch over your son. This grave shall have a living monument: An hour of quiet shortly shall we see; Till then, in patience our proceeding be. [Exeunt] HAMLET ACT V SCENE II A hall in the castle. [Enter HAMLET and HORATIO] HAMLET So much for this, sir: now shall you see the other; You do remember all the circumstance? HORATIO Remember it, my lord? HAMLET Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting, That would not let me sleep: methought I lay Worse than the mutines in the bilboes. Rashly, And praised be rashness for it, let us know, Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well, When our deep plots do pall: and that should teach us There's a divinity that shapes our ends, Rough-hew them how we will,-- HORATIO That is most certain. HAMLET Up from my cabin, My sea-gown scarf'd about me, in the dark Groped I to find out them; had my desire. Finger'd their packet, and in fine withdrew To mine own room again; making so bold, My fears forgetting manners, to unseal Their grand commission; where I found, Horatio,-- O royal knavery!--an exact command, Larded with many several sorts of reasons Importing Denmark's health and England's too, With, ho! such bugs and goblins in my life, That, on the supervise, no leisure bated, No, not to stay the grinding of the axe, My head should be struck off. HORATIO Is't possible? HAMLET Here's the commission: read it at more leisure. But wilt thou hear me how I did proceed? HORATIO I beseech you. HAMLET Being thus be-netted round with villanies,-- Ere I could make a prologue to my brains, They had begun the play--I sat me down, Devised a new commission, wrote it fair: I once did hold it, as our statists do, A baseness to write fair and labour'd much How to forget that learning, but, sir, now It did me yeoman's service: wilt thou know The effect of what I wrote? HORATIO Ay, good my lord. HAMLET An earnest conjuration from the king, As England was his faithful tributary, As love between them like the palm might flourish, As peace should stiff her wheaten garland wear And stand a comma 'tween their amities, And many such-like 'As'es of great charge, That, on the view and knowing of these contents, Without debatement further, more or less, He should the bearers put to sudden death, Not shriving-time allow'd. HORATIO How was this seal'd? HAMLET Why, even in that was heaven ordinant. I had my father's signet in my purse, Which was the model of that Danish seal; Folded the writ up in form of the other, Subscribed it, gave't the impression, placed it safely, The changeling never known. Now, the next day Was our sea-fight; and what to this was sequent Thou know'st already. HORATIO So Guildenstern and Rosencrantz go to't. HAMLET Why, man, they did make love to this employment; They are not near my conscience; their defeat Does by their own insinuation grow: 'Tis dangerous when the baser nature comes Between the pass and fell incensed points Of mighty opposites. HORATIO Why, what a king is this! HAMLET Does it not, think'st thee, stand me now upon-- He that hath kill'd my king and whored my mother, Popp'd in between the election and my hopes, Thrown out his angle for my proper life, And with such cozenage--is't not perfect conscience, To quit him with this arm? and is't not to be damn'd, To let this canker of our nature come In further evil? HORATIO It must be shortly known to him from England What is the issue of the business there. HAMLET It will be short: the interim is mine; And a man's life's 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: I'll court his favours. But, sure, the bravery of his grief did put me Into a towering passion. HORATIO Peace! who comes here? [Enter OSRIC] OSRIC Your lordship is right welcome back to Denmark. HAMLET I humbly thank you, sir. Dost know this water-fly? HORATIO No, my good lord. HAMLET Thy state is the more gracious; for 'tis a vice to know him. He hath much land, and fertile: let a beast be lord of beasts, and his crib shall stand at the king's mess: 'tis a chough; but, as I say, spacious in the possession of dirt. OSRIC Sweet lord, if your lordship were at leisure, I should impart a thing to you from his majesty. HAMLET I will receive it, sir, with all diligence of spirit. Put your bonnet to his right use; 'tis for the head. OSRIC I thank your lordship, it is very hot. HAMLET No, believe me, 'tis very cold; the wind is northerly. OSRIC It is indifferent cold, my lord, indeed. HAMLET But yet methinks it is very sultry and hot for my complexion. OSRIC Exceedingly, my lord; it is very sultry,--as 'twere,--I cannot tell how. But, my lord, his majesty bade me signify to you that he has laid a great wager on your head: sir, this is the matter,-- HAMLET I beseech you, remember-- [HAMLET moves him to put on his hat] OSRIC Nay, good my lord; for mine ease, in good faith. Sir, here is newly come to court Laertes; believe me, an absolute gentleman, full of most excellent differences, of very soft society and great showing: indeed, to speak feelingly of him, he is the card or calendar of gentry, for you shall find in him the continent of what part a gentleman would see. HAMLET Sir, his definement suffers no perdition in you; though, I know, to divide him inventorially would dizzy the arithmetic of memory, and yet but yaw neither, in respect of his quick sail. But, in the verity of extolment, I take him to be a soul of great article; and his infusion of such dearth and rareness, as, to make true diction of him, his semblable is his mirror; and who else would trace him, his umbrage, nothing more. OSRIC Your lordship speaks most infallibly of him. HAMLET The concernancy, sir? why do we wrap the gentleman in our more rawer breath? OSRIC Sir? HORATIO Is't not possible to understand in another tongue? You will do't, sir, really. HAMLET What imports the nomination of this gentleman? OSRIC Of Laertes? HORATIO His purse is empty already; all's golden words are spent. HAMLET Of him, sir. OSRIC I know you are not ignorant-- HAMLET I would you did, sir; yet, in faith, if you did, it would not much approve me. Well, sir? OSRIC You are not ignorant of what excellence Laertes is-- HAMLET I dare not confess that, lest I should compare with him in excellence; but, to know a man well, were to know himself. OSRIC I mean, sir, for his weapon; but in the imputation laid on him by them, in his meed he's unfellowed. HAMLET What's his weapon? OSRIC Rapier and dagger. HAMLET That's two of his weapons: but, well. OSRIC The king, sir, hath wagered with him six Barbary horses: against the which he has imponed, as I take it, six French rapiers and poniards, with their assigns, as girdle, hangers, and so: three of the carriages, in faith, are very dear to fancy, very responsive to the hilts, most delicate carriages, and of very liberal conceit. HAMLET What call you the carriages? HORATIO I knew you must be edified by the margent ere you had done. OSRIC The carriages, sir, are the hangers. HAMLET The phrase would be more german to the matter, if we could carry cannon by our sides: I would it might be hangers till then. But, on: six Barbary horses against six French swords, their assigns, and three liberal-conceited carriages; that's the French bet against the Danish. Why is this 'imponed,' as you call it? OSRIC 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. HAMLET How if I answer 'no'? OSRIC I mean, my lord, the opposition of your person in trial. HAMLET Sir, I will walk here in the hall: if it please his majesty, 'tis the breathing time of day with me; let the foils be brought, the gentleman willing, and the king hold his purpose, I will win for him an I can; if not, I will gain nothing but my shame and the odd hits. OSRIC Shall I re-deliver you e'en so? HAMLET To this effect, sir; after what flourish your nature will. OSRIC I commend my duty to your lordship. HAMLET Yours, yours. [Exit OSRIC] He does well to commend it himself; there are no tongues else for's turn. HORATIO This lapwing runs away with the shell on his head. HAMLET He did comply with his dug, before he sucked it. Thus has he--and many more of the same bevy that I know the dressy age dotes on--only got the tune of the time and outward habit of encounter; a kind of yesty collection, which carries them through and through the most fond and winnowed opinions; and do but blow them to their trial, the bubbles are out. [Enter a Lord] Lord My lord, his majesty commended him to you by young Osric, who brings back to him that you attend him in the hall: he sends to know if your pleasure hold to play with Laertes, or that you will take longer time. HAMLET I am constant to my purpose; they follow the king's pleasure: if his fitness speaks, mine is ready; now or whensoever, provided I be so able as now. Lord The king and queen and all are coming down. HAMLET In happy time. Lord The queen desires you to use some gentle entertainment to Laertes before you fall to play. HAMLET She well instructs me. [Exit Lord] HORATIO You will lose this wager, my lord. HAMLET I do not think so: since he went into France, I have been in continual practise: I shall win at the odds. But thou wouldst not think how ill all's here about my heart: but it is no matter. HORATIO Nay, good my lord,-- HAMLET It is but foolery; but it is such a kind of gain-giving, as would perhaps trouble a woman. HORATIO If your mind dislike any thing, obey it: I will forestall their repair hither, and say you are not fit. HAMLET Not a whit, we defy augury: there's a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, 'tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come: the readiness is all: since no man has aught of what he leaves, what is't to leave betimes? [Enter KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, LAERTES, Lords, OSRIC, and Attendants with foils, &c] KING CLAUDIUS Come, Hamlet, come, and take this hand from me. [KING CLAUDIUS puts LAERTES' hand into HAMLET's] HAMLET Give me your pardon, sir: I've done you wrong; But pardon't, as you are a gentleman. This presence knows, And you must needs have heard, how I am punish'd With sore distraction. What I have done, That might your nature, honour and exception Roughly awake, I here proclaim was madness. Was't Hamlet wrong'd Laertes? Never Hamlet: If Hamlet from himself be ta'en away, And when he's not himself does wrong Laertes, Then Hamlet does it not, Hamlet denies it. Who does it, then? His madness: if't be so, Hamlet is of the faction that is wrong'd; His madness is poor Hamlet's enemy. Sir, in this audience, Let my disclaiming from a purposed evil Free me so far in your most generous thoughts, That I have shot mine arrow o'er the house, And hurt my brother. LAERTES I am satisfied in nature, Whose motive, in this case, should stir me most To my revenge: but in my terms of honour I stand aloof; and will no reconcilement, Till by some elder masters, of known honour, I have a voice and precedent of peace, To keep my name ungored. But till that time, I do receive your offer'd love like love, And will not wrong it. HAMLET I embrace it freely; And will this brother's wager frankly play. Give us the foils. Come on. LAERTES Come, one for me. HAMLET I'll be your foil, Laertes: in mine ignorance Your skill shall, like a star i' the darkest night, Stick fiery off indeed. LAERTES You mock me, sir. HAMLET No, by this hand. KING CLAUDIUS Give them the foils, young Osric. Cousin Hamlet, You know the wager? HAMLET Very well, my lord Your grace hath laid the odds o' the weaker side. KING CLAUDIUS I do not fear it; I have seen you both: But since he is better'd, we have therefore odds. LAERTES This is too heavy, let me see another. HAMLET This likes me well. These foils have all a length? [They prepare to play] OSRIC Ay, my good lord. KING CLAUDIUS Set me the stoops of wine upon that table. If Hamlet give the first or second hit, Or quit in answer of the third exchange, Let all the battlements their ordnance fire: The king shall drink to Hamlet's better breath; And in the cup an union shall he throw, Richer than that which four successive kings In Denmark's crown have worn. Give me the cups; And let the kettle to the trumpet speak, The trumpet to the cannoneer without, The cannons to the heavens, the heavens to earth, 'Now the king dunks to Hamlet.' Come, begin: And you, the judges, bear a wary eye. HAMLET Come on, sir. LAERTES Come, my lord. [They play] HAMLET One. LAERTES No. HAMLET Judgment. OSRIC A hit, a very palpable hit. LAERTES Well; again. KING CLAUDIUS Stay; give me drink. Hamlet, this pearl is thine; Here's to thy health. [Trumpets sound, and cannon shot off within] Give him the cup. HAMLET I'll play this bout first; set it by awhile. Come. [They play] Another hit; what say you? LAERTES A touch, a touch, I do confess. KING CLAUDIUS Our son shall win. QUEEN GERTRUDE He's fat, and scant of breath. Here, Hamlet, take my napkin, rub thy brows; The queen carouses to thy fortune, Hamlet. HAMLET Good madam! KING CLAUDIUS Gertrude, do not drink. QUEEN GERTRUDE I will, my lord; I pray you, pardon me. KING CLAUDIUS [Aside] It is the poison'd cup: it is too late. HAMLET I dare not drink yet, madam; by and by. QUEEN GERTRUDE Come, let me wipe thy face. LAERTES My lord, I'll hit him now. KING CLAUDIUS I do not think't. LAERTES [Aside] And yet 'tis almost 'gainst my conscience. HAMLET Come, for the third, Laertes: you but dally; I pray you, pass with your best violence; I am afeard you make a wanton of me. LAERTES Say you so? come on. [They play] OSRIC Nothing, neither way. LAERTES Have at you now! [LAERTES wounds HAMLET; then in scuffling, they change rapiers, and HAMLET wounds LAERTES] KING CLAUDIUS Part them; they are incensed. HAMLET Nay, come, again. [QUEEN GERTRUDE falls] OSRIC Look to the queen there, ho! HORATIO They bleed on both sides. How is it, my lord? OSRIC How is't, Laertes? LAERTES Why, as a woodcock to mine own springe, Osric; I am justly kill'd with mine own treachery. HAMLET How does the queen? KING CLAUDIUS She swounds to see them bleed. QUEEN GERTRUDE No, no, the drink, the drink,--O my dear Hamlet,-- The drink, the drink! I am poison'd. [Dies] HAMLET O villany! Ho! let the door be lock'd: Treachery! Seek it out. LAERTES It is here, Hamlet: Hamlet, thou art slain; No medicine in the world can do thee good; In thee there is not half an hour of life; The treacherous instrument is in thy hand, Unbated and envenom'd: the foul practise Hath turn'd itself on me lo, here I lie, Never to rise again: thy mother's poison'd: I can no more: the king, the king's to blame. HAMLET The point!--envenom'd too! Then, venom, to thy work. [Stabs KING CLAUDIUS] All Treason! treason! KING CLAUDIUS O, yet defend me, friends; I am but hurt. HAMLET Here, thou incestuous, murderous, damned Dane, Drink off this potion. Is thy union here? Follow my mother. [KING CLAUDIUS dies] LAERTES He is justly served; It is a poison temper'd by himself. Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet: Mine and my father's death come not upon thee, Nor thine on me. [Dies] HAMLET Heaven make thee free of it! I follow thee. I am dead, Horatio. Wretched queen, adieu! You that look pale and tremble at this chance, That are but mutes or audience to this act, Had I but time--as this fell sergeant, death, Is strict in his arrest--O, I could tell you-- But let it be. Horatio, I am dead; Thou livest; report me and my cause aright To the unsatisfied. HORATIO Never believe it: I am more an antique Roman than a Dane: Here's yet some liquor left. HAMLET As thou'rt a man, Give me the cup: let go; by heaven, I'll have't. O good Horatio, what a wounded name, Things standing thus unknown, shall live behind me! If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart Absent thee from felicity awhile, And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain, To tell my story. [March afar off, and shot within] What warlike noise is this? OSRIC Young Fortinbras, with conquest come from Poland, To the ambassadors of England gives This warlike volley. HAMLET O, I die, Horatio; The potent poison quite o'er-crows my spirit: I cannot live to hear the news from England; But I do prophesy the election lights On Fortinbras: he has my dying voice; So tell him, with the occurrents, more and less, Which have solicited. The rest is silence. [Dies] HORATIO Now cracks a noble heart. Good night sweet prince: And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest! Why does the drum come hither? [March within] [Enter FORTINBRAS, the English Ambassadors, and others] PRINCE FORTINBRAS Where is this sight? HORATIO What is it ye would see? If aught of woe or wonder, cease your search. PRINCE FORTINBRAS This quarry cries on havoc. O proud death, What feast is toward in thine eternal cell, That thou so many princes at a shot So bloodily hast struck? First Ambassador The sight is dismal; And our affairs from England come too late: The ears are senseless that should give us hearing, To tell him his commandment is fulfill'd, That Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead: Where should we have our thanks? HORATIO Not from his mouth, Had it the ability of life to thank you: He never gave commandment for their death. But since, so jump upon this bloody question, You from the Polack wars, and you from England, Are here arrived 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: so shall you hear Of carnal, bloody, and unnatural acts, Of accidental judgments, casual slaughters, Of deaths put on by cunning and forced cause, And, in this upshot, purposes mistook Fall'n on the inventors' reads: all this can I Truly deliver. PRINCE FORTINBRAS Let us haste to hear it, And call the noblest to the audience. For me, with sorrow I embrace my fortune: I have some rights of memory in this kingdom, Which now to claim my vantage doth invite me. HORATIO Of that I shall have also cause to speak, And from his mouth whose voice will draw on more; But let this same be presently perform'd, Even while men's minds are wild; lest more mischance On plots and errors, happen. PRINCE FORTINBRAS Let four captains Bear Hamlet, like a soldier, to the stage; For he was likely, had he been put on, To have proved most royally: and, for his passage, The soldiers' music and the rites of war Speak loudly for him. Take up the bodies: such a sight as this Becomes the field, but here shows much amiss. Go, bid the soldiers shoot. [A dead march. Exeunt, bearing off the dead bodies; after which a peal of ordnance is shot off] OTHELLO DRAMATIS PERSONAE DUKE OF VENICE: BRABANTIO a senator. Other Senators. (Senator:) (First Senator:) (Second Senator:) GRATIANO brother to Brabantio. LODOVICO kinsman to Brabantio. OTHELLO a noble Moor in the service of the Venetian state. CASSIO his lieutenant. IAGO his ancient. RODERIGO a Venetian gentleman. MONTANO Othello's predecessor in the government of Cyprus. Clown, servant to Othello. (Clown:) DESDEMONA daughter to Brabantio and wife to Othello. EMILIA wife to Iago. BIANCA mistress to Cassio. Sailor, Messenger, Herald, Officers, Gentlemen, Musicians, and Attendants. (Sailor:) (First Officer:) (Messenger:) (Gentleman:) (First Gentleman:) (Second Gentleman:) (Third Gentleman:) (First Musician:) SCENE Venice: a Sea-port in Cyprus. OTHELLO ACT I SCENE I Venice. A street. [Enter RODERIGO and IAGO] RODERIGO 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. IAGO 'Sblood, but you will not hear me: If ever I did dream of such a matter, Abhor me. RODERIGO Thou told'st me thou didst hold him in thy hate. IAGO Despise me, if I do not. Three great ones of the city, In personal suit to make me his lieutenant, Off-capp'd to him: and, by the faith of man, I know my price, I am worth no worse a place: But he; as loving his own pride and purposes, Evades them, with a bombast circumstance Horribly stuff'd with epithets of war; And, in conclusion, Nonsuits my mediators; for, 'Certes,' says he, 'I have already chose my officer.' And what was he? Forsooth, a great arithmetician, One Michael Cassio, a Florentine, A fellow almost damn'd in a fair wife; That never set a squadron in the field, Nor the division of a battle knows More than a spinster; unless the bookish theoric, Wherein the toged consuls can propose As masterly as he: mere prattle, without practise, Is all his soldiership. But he, sir, had the election: And I, of whom his eyes had seen the proof At Rhodes, at Cyprus and on other grounds Christian and heathen, must be be-lee'd and calm'd By debitor and creditor: this counter-caster, He, in good time, must his lieutenant be, And I--God bless the mark!--his Moorship's ancient. RODERIGO By heaven, I rather would have been his hangman. IAGO Why, there's no remedy; '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. RODERIGO I would not follow him then. IAGO O, sir, content you; I follow him to serve my turn upon him: We cannot all be masters, nor all masters Cannot be truly follow'd. You shall mark Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave, That, doting on his own obsequious bondage, Wears out his time, much like his master's ass, For nought but provender, and when he's old, cashier'd: Whip me such honest knaves. 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: these fellows have some soul; And such a one do I profess myself. For, sir, It is as sure as you are Roderigo, Were I the Moor, I would not be Iago: In following him, I follow but myself; Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty, But seeming so, for my peculiar end: For when my outward action doth demonstrate The native act and figure of my heart In compliment extern, 'tis not long after But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve For daws to peck at: I am not what I am. RODERIGO What a full fortune does the thicklips owe If he can carry't thus! IAGO Call up her father, Rouse him: make after him, poison his delight, Proclaim him in the streets; incense her kinsmen, And, though he in a fertile climate dwell, Plague him with flies: though that his joy be joy, Yet throw such changes of vexation on't, As it may lose some colour. RODERIGO Here is her father's house; I'll call aloud. IAGO Do, with like timorous accent and dire yell As when, by night and negligence, the fire Is spied in populous cities. RODERIGO What, ho, Brabantio! Signior Brabantio, ho! IAGO Awake! what, ho, Brabantio! thieves! thieves! thieves! Look to your house, your daughter and your bags! Thieves! thieves! [BRABANTIO appears above, at a window] BRABANTIO What is the reason of this terrible summons? What is the matter there? RODERIGO Signior, is all your family within? IAGO Are your doors lock'd? BRABANTIO Why, wherefore ask you this? IAGO 'Zounds, sir, you're robb'd; for shame, put on your gown; Your heart is burst, you have lost half your soul; Even now, now, very now, an old black ram Is topping your white ewe. Arise, arise; Awake the snorting citizens with the bell, Or else the devil will make a grandsire of you: Arise, I say. BRABANTIO What, have you lost your wits? RODERIGO Most reverend signior, do you know my voice? BRABANTIO Not I what are you? RODERIGO My name is Roderigo. BRABANTIO The worser welcome: I have charged thee not to haunt about my doors: In honest plainness thou hast heard me say My daughter is not for thee; and now, in madness, Being full of supper and distempering draughts, Upon malicious bravery, dost thou come To start my quiet. RODERIGO Sir, sir, sir,-- BRABANTIO But thou must needs be sure My spirit and my place have in them power To make this bitter to thee. RODERIGO Patience, good sir. BRABANTIO What tell'st thou me of robbing? this is Venice; My house is not a grange. RODERIGO Most grave Brabantio, In simple and pure soul I come to you. IAGO 'Zounds, sir, you are one of those that will not serve God, if the devil bid you. Because we come to do you service and you think we are ruffians, you'll have your daughter covered with a Barbary horse; you'll have your nephews neigh to you; you'll have coursers for cousins and gennets for germans. BRABANTIO What profane wretch art thou? IAGO I am one, sir, that comes to tell you your daughter and the Moor are now making the beast with two backs. BRABANTIO Thou art a villain. IAGO You are--a senator. BRABANTIO This thou shalt answer; I know thee, Roderigo. RODERIGO Sir, I will answer any thing. But, I beseech you, If't be your pleasure and most wise consent, As partly I find it is, that your fair daughter, At this odd-even and dull watch o' the night, Transported, with no worse nor better guard But with a knave of common hire, a gondolier, To the gross clasps of a lascivious Moor-- If this be known to you and your allowance, We then have done you bold and saucy wrongs; But if you know not this, my manners tell me We have your wrong rebuke. Do not believe That, from the sense of all civility, I thus would play and trifle with your reverence: Your daughter, if you have not given her leave, I say again, hath made a gross revolt; Tying her duty, beauty, wit and fortunes In an extravagant and wheeling stranger Of here and every where. Straight satisfy yourself: If she be in her chamber or your house, Let loose on me the justice of the state For thus deluding you. BRABANTIO Strike on the tinder, ho! Give me a taper! call up all my people! This accident is not unlike my dream: Belief of it oppresses me already. Light, I say! light! [Exit above] IAGO Farewell; for I must leave you: It seems not meet, nor wholesome to my place, To be produced--as, if I stay, I shall-- Against the Moor: for, I do know, the state, However this may gall him with some cheque, Cannot with safety cast him, for he's embark'd With such loud reason to the Cyprus wars, Which even now stand in act, that, for their souls, Another of his fathom they have none, To lead their business: in which regard, Though I do hate him as I do hell-pains. Yet, for necessity of present life, I must show out a flag and sign of love, Which is indeed but sign. That you shall surely find him, Lead to the Sagittary the raised search; And there will I be with him. So, farewell. [Exit] [Enter, below, BRABANTIO, and Servants with torches] BRABANTIO It is too true an evil: gone she is; And what's to come of my despised time Is nought but bitterness. Now, Roderigo, Where didst thou see her? O unhappy girl! With the Moor, say'st thou? Who would be a father! How didst thou know 'twas she? O she deceives me Past thought! What said she to you? Get more tapers: Raise all my kindred. Are they married, think you? RODERIGO Truly, I think they are. BRABANTIO 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. Is there not charms By which the property of youth and maidhood May be abused? Have you not read, Roderigo, Of some such thing? RODERIGO Yes, sir, I have indeed. BRABANTIO Call up my brother. O, would you had had her! Some one way, some another. Do you know Where we may apprehend her and the Moor? RODERIGO I think I can discover him, if you please, To get good guard and go along with me. BRABANTIO Pray you, lead on. At every house I'll call; I may command at most. Get weapons, ho! And raise some special officers of night. On, good Roderigo: I'll deserve your pains. [Exeunt] OTHELLO ACT I SCENE II Another street. [Enter OTHELLO, IAGO, and Attendants with torches] IAGO Though in the trade of war I have slain men, Yet do I hold it very stuff o' the conscience To do no contrived murder: I lack iniquity Sometimes to do me service: nine or ten times I had thought to have yerk'd him here under the ribs. OTHELLO 'Tis better as it is. IAGO Nay, but he prated, And spoke such scurvy and provoking terms Against your honour That, with the little godliness I have, I did full hard forbear him. 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: he will divorce you; Or put upon you what restraint and grievance The law, with all his might to enforce it on, Will give him cable. OTHELLO Let him do his spite: My services which I have done the signiory Shall out-tongue his complaints. 'Tis yet to know,-- Which, when I know that boasting is an honour, I shall promulgate--I fetch my life and being From men of royal siege, and my demerits May speak unbonneted to as proud a fortune As this that I have reach'd: 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. But, look! what lights come yond? IAGO Those are the raised father and his friends: You were best go in. OTHELLO Not I I must be found: My parts, my title and my perfect soul Shall manifest me rightly. Is it they? IAGO By Janus, I think no. [Enter CASSIO, and certain Officers with torches] OTHELLO The servants of the duke, and my lieutenant. The goodness of the night upon you, friends! What is the news? CASSIO The duke does greet you, general, And he requires your haste-post-haste appearance, Even on the instant. OTHELLO What is the matter, think you? CASSIO Something from Cyprus as I may divine: It is a business of some heat: 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: you have been hotly call'd for; When, being not at your lodging to be found, The senate hath sent about three several guests To search you out. OTHELLO 'Tis well I am found by you. I will but spend a word here in the house, And go with you. [Exit] CASSIO Ancient, what makes he here? IAGO 'Faith, he to-night hath boarded a land carack: If it prove lawful prize, he's made for ever. CASSIO I do not understand. IAGO He's married. CASSIO To who? [Re-enter OTHELLO] IAGO Marry, to--Come, captain, will you go? OTHELLO Have with you. CASSIO Here comes another troop to seek for you. IAGO It is Brabantio. General, be advised; He comes to bad intent. [Enter BRABANTIO, RODERIGO, and Officers with torches and weapons] OTHELLO Holla! stand there! RODERIGO Signior, it is the Moor. BRABANTIO Down with him, thief! [They draw on both sides] IAGO You, Roderigo! come, sir, I am for you. OTHELLO Keep up your bright swords, for the dew will rust them. Good signior, you shall more command with years Than with your weapons. BRABANTIO O thou foul thief, where hast thou stow'd my daughter? Damn'd as thou art, thou hast enchanted her; For I'll refer me to all things of sense, If she in chains of magic were not bound, Whether a maid so tender, fair and happy, So opposite to marriage that she shunned The wealthy curled darlings of our nation, Would ever have, to incur a general mock, Run from her guardage to the sooty bosom Of such a thing as thou, to fear, not to delight. Judge me the world, if 'tis not gross in sense That thou hast practised on her with foul charms, Abused her delicate youth with drugs or minerals That weaken motion: I'll have't disputed on; 'Tis probable and palpable to thinking. I therefore apprehend and do attach thee For an abuser of the world, a practiser Of arts inhibited and out of warrant. Lay hold upon him: if he do resist, Subdue him at his peril. OTHELLO Hold your hands, Both you of my inclining, and the rest: Were it my cue to fight, I should have known it Without a prompter. Where will you that I go To answer this your charge? BRABANTIO To prison, till fit time Of law and course of direct session Call thee to answer. OTHELLO What if I do obey? How may the duke be therewith satisfied, Whose messengers are here about my side, Upon some present business of the state To bring me to him? First Officer 'Tis true, most worthy signior; The duke's in council and your noble self, I am sure, is sent for. BRABANTIO How! the duke in council! In this time of the night! Bring him away: Mine's not an idle cause: the duke himself, Or any of my brothers of the state, Cannot but feel this wrong as 'twere their own; For if such actions may have passage free, Bond-slaves and pagans shall our statesmen be. [Exeunt] OTHELLO ACT I SCENE III A council-chamber. [The DUKE and Senators sitting at a table; Officers attending] DUKE OF VENICE There is no composition in these news That gives them credit. First Senator Indeed, they are disproportion'd; My letters say a hundred and seven galleys. DUKE OF VENICE And mine, a hundred and forty. Second Senator And mine, two hundred: But though they jump not on a just account,-- As in these cases, where the aim reports, 'Tis oft with difference--yet do they all confirm A Turkish fleet, and bearing up to Cyprus. DUKE OF VENICE Nay, it is possible enough to judgment: I do not so secure me in the error, But the main article I do approve In fearful sense. Sailor [Within] What, ho! what, ho! what, ho! First Officer A messenger from the galleys. [Enter a Sailor] DUKE OF VENICE Now, what's the business? Sailor The Turkish preparation makes for Rhodes; So was I bid report here to the state By Signior Angelo. DUKE OF VENICE How say you by this change? First Senator This cannot be, By no assay of reason: 'tis a pageant, To keep us in false gaze. When we consider The importancy of Cyprus to the Turk, And let ourselves again but understand, That as it more concerns the Turk than Rhodes, So may he with more facile question bear it, For that it stands not in such warlike brace, But altogether lacks the abilities That Rhodes is dress'd in: if we make thought of this, We must not think the Turk is so unskilful To leave that latest which concerns him first, Neglecting an attempt of ease and gain, To wake and wage a danger profitless. DUKE OF VENICE Nay, in all confidence, he's not for Rhodes. First Officer Here is more news. [Enter a Messenger] Messenger The Ottomites, reverend and gracious, Steering with due course towards the isle of Rhodes, Have there injointed them with an after fleet. First Senator Ay, so I thought. How many, as you guess? Messenger Of thirty sail: and now they do restem Their backward course, bearing with frank appearance Their purposes toward Cyprus. Signior Montano, Your trusty and most valiant servitor, With his free duty recommends you thus, And prays you to believe him. DUKE OF VENICE 'Tis certain, then, for Cyprus. Marcus Luccicos, is not he in town? First Senator He's now in Florence. DUKE OF VENICE Write from us to him; post-post-haste dispatch. First Senator Here comes Brabantio and the valiant Moor. [Enter BRABANTIO, OTHELLO, IAGO, RODERIGO, and Officers] DUKE OF VENICE Valiant Othello, we must straight employ you Against the general enemy Ottoman. [To BRABANTIO] I did not see you; welcome, gentle signior; We lack'd your counsel and your help tonight. BRABANTIO So did I yours. Good your grace, pardon me; Neither my place nor aught I heard of business Hath raised me from my bed, nor doth the general care Take hold on me, for my particular grief Is of so flood-gate and o'erbearing nature That it engluts and swallows other sorrows And it is still itself. DUKE OF VENICE Why, what's the matter? BRABANTIO My daughter! O, my daughter! DUKE OF VENICE | Dead? Senator | BRABANTIO Ay, to me; She is abused, stol'n from me, and corrupted By spells and medicines bought of mountebanks; For nature so preposterously to err, Being not deficient, blind, or lame of sense, Sans witchcraft could not. DUKE OF VENICE Whoe'er he be that in this foul proceeding Hath thus beguiled your daughter of herself And you of her, the bloody book of law You shall yourself read in the bitter letter After your own sense, yea, though our proper son Stood in your action. BRABANTIO Humbly I thank your grace. Here is the man, this Moor, whom now, it seems, Your special mandate for the state-affairs Hath hither brought. DUKE OF VENICE | | We are very sorry for't. Senator | DUKE OF VENICE [To OTHELLO] What, in your own part, can you say to this? BRABANTIO Nothing, but this is so. OTHELLO Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors, My very noble and approved good masters, That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter, It is most true; true, I have married her: The very head and front of my offending Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my speech, And little bless'd with the soft phrase of peace: For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith, Till now some nine moons wasted, they have used Their dearest action in the tented field, And little of this great world can I speak, More than pertains to feats of broil and battle, And therefore little shall I grace my cause In speaking for myself. Yet, by your gracious patience, I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver Of my whole course of love; what drugs, what charms, What conjuration and what mighty magic, For such proceeding I am charged withal, I won his daughter. BRABANTIO A maiden never bold; Of spirit so still and quiet, that her motion Blush'd at herself; and she, in spite of nature, Of years, of country, credit, every thing, To fall in love with what she fear'd to look on! It is a judgment maim'd and most imperfect That will confess perfection so could err Against all rules of nature, and must be driven To find out practises of cunning hell, Why this should be. I therefore vouch again That with some mixtures powerful o'er the blood, Or with some dram conjured to this effect, He wrought upon her. DUKE OF VENICE To vouch this, is no proof, Without more wider and more overt test Than these thin habits and poor likelihoods Of modern seeming do prefer against him. First Senator But, Othello, speak: 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: If you do find me foul in her report, The trust, the office I do hold of you, Not only take away, but let your sentence Even fall upon my life. DUKE OF VENICE Fetch Desdemona hither. OTHELLO Ancient, conduct them: you best know the place. [Exeunt IAGO and Attendants] And, till she come, as truly as to heaven I do confess the vices of my blood, So justly to your grave ears I'll present How I did thrive in this fair lady's love, And she in mine. DUKE OF VENICE Say it, Othello. OTHELLO Her father loved me; oft invited me; Still question'd me the story of my life, From year to year, the battles, sieges, fortunes, That I have passed. I ran it through, even from my boyish days, To the very moment that he bade me tell it; 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. This to hear Would Desdemona seriously incline: But still the house-affairs would draw her thence: Which ever as she could with haste dispatch, She'ld come again, and with a greedy ear Devour up my discourse: which I observing, Took once a pliant hour, and found good means To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart That I would all my pilgrimage dilate, Whereof by parcels she had something heard, But not intentively: I did consent, And often did beguile her of her tears, When I did speak of some distressful stroke That my youth suffer'd. My story being done, She gave me for my pains a world of sighs: She swore, in faith, twas strange, 'twas passing strange, 'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful: She wish'd she had not heard it, yet she wish'd That heaven had made her such a man: she thank'd me, And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her, I should but teach him how to tell my story. And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake: She loved me for the dangers I had pass'd, And I loved her that she did pity them. This only is the witchcraft I have used: Here comes the lady; let her witness it. [Enter DESDEMONA, IAGO, and Attendants] DUKE OF VENICE I think this tale would win my daughter too. Good Brabantio, Take up this mangled matter at the best: Men do their broken weapons rather use Than their bare hands. BRABANTIO I pray you, hear her speak: 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: Do you perceive in all this noble company Where most you owe obedience? DESDEMONA My noble father, I do perceive here a divided duty: 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. BRABANTIO God be wi' you! I have done. Please it your grace, on to the state-affairs: I had rather to adopt a child than get it. Come hither, Moor: 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. I have done, my lord. DUKE OF VENICE Let me speak like yourself, and lay a sentence, Which, as a grise or step, may help these lovers Into your favour. When remedies are past, the griefs are ended By seeing the worst, which late on hopes depended. To mourn a mischief that is past and gone Is the next way to draw new mischief on. What cannot be preserved when fortune takes Patience her injury a mockery makes. The robb'd that smiles steals something from the thief; He robs himself that spends a bootless grief. BRABANTIO So let the Turk of Cyprus us beguile; We lose it not, so long as we can smile. He bears the sentence well that nothing bears But the free comfort which from thence he hears, But he bears both the sentence and the sorrow That, to pay grief, must of poor patience borrow. These sentences, to sugar, or to gall, Being strong on both sides, are equivocal: But words are words; I never yet did hear That the bruised heart was pierced through the ear. I humbly beseech you, proceed to the affairs of state. DUKE OF VENICE The Turk with a most mighty preparation makes for Cyprus. Othello, the fortitude of the place is best known to you; and though we have there a substitute of most allowed sufficiency, yet opinion, a sovereign mistress of effects, throws a more safer voice on you: you must therefore be content to slubber the gloss of your new fortunes with this more stubborn and boisterous expedition. OTHELLO The tyrant custom, most grave senators, Hath made the flinty and steel couch of war My thrice-driven bed of down: I do agnise A natural and prompt alacrity I find in hardness, and do undertake These present wars against the Ottomites. Most humbly therefore bending to your state, I crave fit disposition for my wife. Due reference of place and exhibition, With such accommodation and besort As levels with her breeding. DUKE OF VENICE If you please, Be't at her father's. BRABANTIO I'll not have it so. OTHELLO Nor I. DESDEMONA Nor I; I would not there reside, To put my father in impatient thoughts By being in his eye. Most gracious duke, To my unfolding lend your prosperous ear; And let me find a charter in your voice, To assist my simpleness. DUKE OF VENICE What would You, Desdemona? DESDEMONA That I did love the Moor to live with him, My downright violence and storm of fortunes May trumpet to the world: my heart's subdued Even to the very quality of my lord: I saw Othello's visage in his mind, And to his honour and his valiant parts Did I my soul and fortunes consecrate. So that, dear lords, if I be left behind, A moth of peace, and he go to the war, The rites for which I love him are bereft me, And I a heavy interim shall support By his dear absence. Let me go with him. OTHELLO Let her have your voices. Vouch with me, heaven, I therefore beg it not, To please the palate of my appetite, Nor to comply with heat--the young affects In me defunct--and proper satisfaction. But to be free and bounteous to her mind: And heaven defend your good souls, that you think I will your serious and great business scant For she is with me: no, when light-wing'd toys Of feather'd Cupid seal with wanton dullness My speculative and officed instruments, That my disports corrupt and taint my business, Let housewives make a skillet of my helm, And all indign and base adversities Make head against my estimation! DUKE OF VENICE Be it as you shall privately determine, Either for her stay or going: the affair cries haste, And speed must answer it. First Senator You must away to-night. OTHELLO With all my heart. DUKE OF VENICE At nine i' the morning here we'll meet again. Othello, leave some officer behind, And he shall our commission bring to you; With such things else of quality and respect As doth import you. OTHELLO So please your grace, my ancient; A man he is of honest and trust: To his conveyance I assign my wife, With what else needful your good grace shall think To be sent after me. DUKE OF VENICE Let it be so. Good night to every one. [To BRABANTIO] And, noble signior, If virtue no delighted beauty lack, Your son-in-law is far more fair than black. First Senator Adieu, brave Moor, use Desdemona well. BRABANTIO Look to her, Moor, if thou hast eyes to see: She has deceived her father, and may thee. [Exeunt DUKE OF VENICE, Senators, Officers, &c] OTHELLO My life upon her faith! Honest Iago, My Desdemona must I leave to thee: I prithee, let thy wife attend on her: And bring them after in the best advantage. Come, Desdemona: I have but an hour Of love, of worldly matters and direction, To spend with thee: we must obey the time. [Exeunt OTHELLO and DESDEMONA] RODERIGO Iago,-- IAGO What say'st thou, noble heart? RODERIGO What will I do, thinkest thou? IAGO Why, go to bed, and sleep. RODERIGO I will incontinently drown myself. IAGO If thou dost, I shall never love thee after. Why, thou silly gentleman! RODERIGO It is silliness to live when to live is torment; and then have we a prescription to die when death is our physician. IAGO O villainous! I have looked upon the world for four times seven years; and since I could distinguish betwixt a benefit and an injury, I never found man that knew how to love himself. Ere I would say, I would drown myself for the love of a guinea-hen, I would change my humanity with a baboon. RODERIGO What should I do? I confess it is my shame to be so fond; but it is not in my virtue to amend it. IAGO Virtue! a fig! 'tis in ourselves that we are thus or thus. Our bodies are our gardens, to the which our wills are gardeners: so that if we will plant nettles, or sow lettuce, set hyssop and weed up thyme, supply it with one gender of herbs, or distract it with many, either to have it sterile with idleness, or manured with industry, why, the power and corrigible authority of this lies in our wills. If the balance of our lives had not one scale of reason to poise another of sensuality, the blood and baseness of our natures would conduct us to most preposterous conclusions: but we have reason to cool our raging motions, our carnal stings, our unbitted lusts, whereof I take this that you call love to be a sect or scion. RODERIGO It cannot be. IAGO It is merely a lust of the blood and a permission of the will. Come, be a man. Drown thyself! drown cats and blind puppies. 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. Put money in thy purse; follow thou the wars; defeat thy favour with an usurped beard; I say, put money in thy purse. It cannot be that Desdemona should long continue her love to the Moor,-- put money in thy purse,--nor he his to her: it was a violent commencement, and thou shalt see an answerable sequestration:--put but money in thy purse. These Moors are changeable in their wills: fill thy purse with money:--the food that to him now is as luscious as locusts, shall be to him shortly as bitter as coloquintida. She must change for youth: when she is sated with his body, she will find the error of her choice: she must have change, she must: therefore put money in thy purse. If thou wilt needs damn thyself, do it a more delicate way than drowning. Make all the money thou canst: if sanctimony and a frail vow betwixt an erring barbarian and a supersubtle Venetian not too hard for my wits and all the tribe of hell, thou shalt enjoy her; therefore make money. A pox of drowning thyself! it is clean out of the way: seek thou rather to be hanged in compassing thy joy than to be drowned and go without her. RODERIGO Wilt thou be fast to my hopes, if I depend on the issue? IAGO Thou art sure of me:--go, make money:--I have told thee often, and I re-tell thee again and again, I hate the Moor: my cause is hearted; thine hath no less reason. Let us be conjunctive in our revenge against him: if thou canst cuckold him, thou dost thyself a pleasure, me a sport. There are many events in the womb of time which will be delivered. Traverse! go, provide thy money. We will have more of this to-morrow. Adieu. RODERIGO Where shall we meet i' the morning? IAGO At my lodging. RODERIGO I'll be with thee betimes. IAGO Go to; farewell. Do you hear, Roderigo? RODERIGO What say you? IAGO No more of drowning, do you hear? RODERIGO I am changed: I'll go sell all my land. [Exit] IAGO Thus do I ever make my fool my purse: For I mine own gain'd knowledge should profane, If I would time expend with such a snipe. But for my sport and profit. I hate the Moor: And it is thought abroad, that 'twixt my sheets He has done my office: I know not if't be true; But I, for mere suspicion in that kind, Will do as if for surety. He holds me well; The better shall my purpose work on him. Cassio's a proper man: let me see now: To get his place and to plume up my will In double knavery--How, how? Let's see:-- After some time, to abuse Othello's ear That he is too familiar with his wife. He hath a person and a smooth dispose To be suspected, framed to make women false. The Moor is of a free and open nature, That thinks men honest that but seem to be so, And will as tenderly be led by the nose As asses are. I have't. It is engender'd. Hell and night Must bring this monstrous birth to the world's light. [Exit] OTHELLO ACT II SCENE I A Sea-port in Cyprus. An open place near the quay. [Enter MONTANO and two Gentlemen] MONTANO What from the cape can you discern at sea? First Gentleman Nothing at all: it is a highwrought flood; I cannot, 'twixt the heaven and the main, Descry a sail. MONTANO Methinks the wind hath spoke aloud at land; A fuller blast ne'er shook our battlements: If it hath ruffian'd so upon the sea, What ribs of oak, when mountains melt on them, Can hold the mortise? What shall we hear of this? Second Gentleman A segregation of the Turkish fleet: 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: I never did like molestation view On the enchafed flood. MONTANO If that the Turkish fleet Be not enshelter'd and embay'd, they are drown'd: It is impossible they bear it out. [Enter a third Gentleman] Third Gentleman News, lads! our wars are done. The desperate tempest hath so bang'd the Turks, That their designment halts: a noble ship of Venice Hath seen a grievous wreck and sufferance On most part of their fleet. MONTANO How! is this true? Third Gentleman The ship is here put in, A Veronesa; Michael Cassio, Lieutenant to the warlike Moor Othello, Is come on shore: the Moor himself at sea, And is in full commission here for Cyprus. MONTANO I am glad on't; 'tis a worthy governor. Third Gentleman But this same Cassio, though he speak of comfort Touching the Turkish loss, yet he looks sadly, And prays the Moor be safe; for they were parted With foul and violent tempest. MONTANO Pray heavens he be; For I have served him, and the man commands Like a full soldier. Let's to the seaside, ho! As well to see the vessel that's come in As to throw out our eyes for brave Othello, Even till we make the main and the aerial blue An indistinct regard. Third Gentleman Come, let's do so: For every minute is expectancy Of more arrivance. [Enter CASSIO] CASSIO Thanks, you the valiant of this warlike isle, That so approve the Moor! O, let the heavens Give him defence against the elements, For I have lost us him on a dangerous sea. MONTANO Is he well shipp'd? CASSIO His bark is stoutly timber'd, his pilot Of very expert and approved allowance; Therefore my hopes, not surfeited to death, Stand in bold cure. [A cry within 'A sail, a sail, a sail!'] [Enter a fourth Gentleman] CASSIO What noise? Fourth Gentleman The town is empty; on the brow o' the sea Stand ranks of people, and they cry 'A sail!' CASSIO My hopes do shape him for the governor. [Guns heard] Second Gentlemen They do discharge their shot of courtesy: Our friends at least. CASSIO I pray you, sir, go forth, And give us truth who 'tis that is arrived. Second Gentleman I shall. [Exit] MONTANO But, good lieutenant, is your general wived? CASSIO Most fortunately: 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. [Re-enter second Gentleman] How now! who has put in? Second Gentleman 'Tis one Iago, ancient to the general. CASSIO Has had most favourable and happy speed: 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. MONTANO What is she? CASSIO She that I spake of, our great captain's captain, Left in the conduct of the bold Iago, Whose footing here anticipates our thoughts A se'nnight's speed. Great Jove, Othello guard, And swell his sail with thine own powerful breath, That he may bless this bay with his tall ship, Make love's quick pants in Desdemona's arms, Give renew'd fire to our extincted spirits And bring all Cyprus comfort! [Enter DESDEMONA, EMILIA, IAGO, RODERIGO, and Attendants] O, behold, The riches of the ship is come on shore! Ye men of Cyprus, let her have your knees. Hail to thee, lady! and the grace of heaven, Before, behind thee, and on every hand, Enwheel thee round! DESDEMONA I thank you, valiant Cassio. What tidings can you tell me of my lord? CASSIO He is not yet arrived: nor know I aught But that he's well and will be shortly here. DESDEMONA O, but I fear--How lost you company? CASSIO The great contention of the sea and skies Parted our fellowship--But, hark! a sail. [Within 'A sail, a sail!' Guns heard] Second Gentleman They give their greeting to the citadel; This likewise is a friend. CASSIO See for the news. [Exit Gentleman] Good ancient, you are welcome. [To EMILIA] Welcome, mistress. Let it not gall your patience, good Iago, That I extend my manners; 'tis my breeding That gives me this bold show of courtesy. [Kissing her] IAGO Sir, would she give you so much of her lips As of her tongue she oft bestows on me, You'll have enough. DESDEMONA Alas, she has no speech. IAGO In faith, too much; I find it still, when I have list to sleep: Marry, before your ladyship, I grant, She puts her tongue a little in her heart, And chides with thinking. EMILIA You have little cause to say so. IAGO Come on, come on; you are pictures out of doors, Bells in your parlors, wild-cats in your kitchens, Saints m your injuries, devils being offended, Players in your housewifery, and housewives' in your beds. DESDEMONA O, fie upon thee, slanderer! IAGO Nay, it is true, or else I am a Turk: You rise to play and go to bed to work. EMILIA You shall not write my praise. IAGO No, let me not. DESDEMONA What wouldst thou write of me, if thou shouldst praise me? IAGO O gentle lady, do not put me to't; For I am nothing, if not critical. DESDEMONA Come on assay. There's one gone to the harbour? IAGO Ay, madam. DESDEMONA I am not merry; but I do beguile The thing I am, by seeming otherwise. Come, how wouldst thou praise me? IAGO I am about it; but indeed my invention Comes from my pate as birdlime does from frize; It plucks out brains and all: but my Muse labours, And thus she is deliver'd. If she be fair and wise, fairness and wit, The one's for use, the other useth it. DESDEMONA Well praised! How if she be black and witty? IAGO If she be black, and thereto have a wit, She'll find a white that shall her blackness fit. DESDEMONA Worse and worse. EMILIA How if fair and foolish? IAGO She never yet was foolish that was fair; For even her folly help'd her to an heir. DESDEMONA These are old fond paradoxes to make fools laugh i' the alehouse. What miserable praise hast thou for her that's foul and foolish? IAGO There's none so foul and foolish thereunto, But does foul pranks which fair and wise ones do. DESDEMONA O heavy ignorance! thou praisest the worst best. But what praise couldst thou bestow on a deserving woman indeed, one that, in the authority of her merit, did justly put on the vouch of very malice itself? IAGO She that was ever fair and never proud, Had tongue at will and yet was never loud, Never lack'd gold and yet went never gay, Fled from her wish and yet said 'Now I may,' She that being anger'd, her revenge being nigh, Bade her wrong stay and her displeasure fly, She that in wisdom never was so frail To change the cod's head for the salmon's tail; She that could think and ne'er disclose her mind, See suitors following and not look behind, She was a wight, if ever such wight were,-- DESDEMONA To do what? IAGO To suckle fools and chronicle small beer. DESDEMONA O most lame and impotent conclusion! Do not learn of him, Emilia, though he be thy husband. How say you, Cassio? is he not a most profane and liberal counsellor? CASSIO He speaks home, madam: You may relish him more in the soldier than in the scholar. IAGO [Aside] He takes her by the palm: ay, well said, whisper: with as little a web as this will I ensnare as great a fly as Cassio. Ay, smile upon her, do; I will gyve thee in thine own courtship. You say true; 'tis so, indeed: 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. Very good; well kissed! an excellent courtesy! 'tis so, indeed. Yet again your fingers to your lips? would they were clyster-pipes for your sake! [Trumpet within] The Moor! I know his trumpet. CASSIO 'Tis truly so. DESDEMONA Let's meet him and receive him. CASSIO Lo, where he comes! [Enter OTHELLO and Attendants] OTHELLO O my fair warrior! DESDEMONA My dear Othello! OTHELLO It gives me wonder great as my content To see you here before me. O my soul's joy! If after every tempest come such calms, May the winds blow till they have waken'd death! And let the labouring bark climb hills of seas Olympus-high and duck again as low As hell's from heaven! If it were now to die, 'Twere now to be most happy; for, I fear, My soul hath her content so absolute That not another comfort like to this Succeeds in unknown fate. DESDEMONA The heavens forbid But that our loves and comforts should increase, Even as our days do grow! OTHELLO Amen to that, sweet powers! I cannot speak enough of this content; It stops me here; it is too much of joy: And this, and this, the greatest discords be [Kissing her] That e'er our hearts shall make! IAGO [Aside] O, you are well tuned now! But I'll set down the pegs that make this music, As honest as I am. OTHELLO Come, let us to the castle. News, friends; our wars are done, the Turks are drown'd. How does my old acquaintance of this isle? Honey, you shall be well desired in Cyprus; I have found great love amongst them. O my sweet, I prattle out of fashion, and I dote In mine own comforts. I prithee, good Iago, Go to the bay and disembark my coffers: Bring thou the master to the citadel; He is a good one, and his worthiness Does challenge much respect. Come, Desdemona, Once more, well met at Cyprus. [Exeunt OTHELLO, DESDEMONA, and Attendants] IAGO Do thou meet me presently at the harbour. Come hither. 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. The lieutenant tonight watches on the court of guard:--first, I must tell thee this--Desdemona is directly in love with him. RODERIGO With him! why, 'tis not possible. IAGO Lay thy finger thus, and let thy soul be instructed. Mark me with what violence she first loved the Moor, but for bragging and telling her fantastical lies: and will she love him still for prating? let not thy discreet heart think it. 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 favour, sympathy in years, manners and beauties; all which the Moor is defective in: now, for want of these required conveniences, her delicate tenderness will find itself abused, begin to heave the gorge, disrelish and abhor the Moor; very nature will instruct her in it and compel her to some second choice. Now, sir, this granted,--as it is a most pregnant and unforced position--who stands so eminent in the degree of this fortune as Cassio does? a knave very voluble; no further conscionable than in putting on the mere form of civil and humane seeming, for the better compassing of his salt and most hidden loose affection? why, none; why, none: a slipper and subtle knave, a finder of occasions, that has an eye can stamp and counterfeit advantages, though true advantage never present itself; a devilish knave. Besides, the knave is handsome, young, and hath all those requisites in him that folly and green minds look after: a pestilent complete knave; and the woman hath found him already. RODERIGO I cannot believe that in her; she's full of most blessed condition. IAGO Blessed fig's-end! the wine she drinks is made of grapes: if she had been blessed, she would never have loved the Moor. Blessed pudding! Didst thou not see her paddle with the palm of his hand? didst not mark that? RODERIGO Yes, that I did; but that was but courtesy. IAGO Lechery, by this hand; an index and obscure prologue to the history of lust and foul thoughts. They met so near with their lips that their breaths embraced together. Villanous thoughts, Roderigo! when these mutualities so marshal the way, hard at hand comes the master and main exercise, the incorporate conclusion, Pish! But, sir, be you ruled by me: I have brought you from Venice. Watch you to-night; for the command, I'll lay't upon you. Cassio knows you not. I'll not be far from you: 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 favourably minister. RODERIGO Well. IAGO Sir, he is rash and very sudden in choler, and haply may strike at you: 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. So shall you have a shorter journey to your desires by the means I shall then have to prefer them; and the impediment most profitably removed, without the which there were no expectation of our prosperity. RODERIGO I will do this, if I can bring it to any opportunity. IAGO I warrant thee. Meet me by and by at the citadel: I must fetch his necessaries ashore. Farewell. RODERIGO Adieu. [Exit] IAGO That Cassio loves her, I do well believe it; That she loves him, 'tis apt and of great credit: The Moor, howbeit that I endure him not, Is of a constant, loving, noble nature, And I dare think he'll prove to Desdemona A most dear husband. Now, I do love her too; Not out of absolute lust, though peradventure I stand accountant for as great a sin, But partly led to diet my revenge, For that I do suspect the lusty Moor Hath leap'd into my seat; the thought whereof Doth, like a poisonous mineral, gnaw my inwards; And nothing can or shall content my soul Till I am even'd with him, wife for wife, Or failing so, yet that I put the Moor At least into a jealousy so strong That judgment cannot cure. Which thing to do, If this poor trash of Venice, whom I trash For his quick hunting, stand the putting on, I'll have our Michael Cassio on the hip, Abuse him to the Moor in the rank garb-- For I fear Cassio with my night-cap too-- Make the Moor thank me, love me and reward me. For making him egregiously an ass And practising upon his peace and quiet Even to madness. 'Tis here, but yet confused: Knavery's plain face is never seen tin used. [Exit] OTHELLO ACT II SCENE II A street. [Enter a Herald with a proclamation; People following] Herald 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. So much was his pleasure should be proclaimed. 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] OTHELLO ACT II SCENE III A hall in the castle. [Enter OTHELLO, DESDEMONA, CASSIO, and Attendants] OTHELLO Good Michael, look you to the guard to-night: Let's teach ourselves that honourable stop, Not to outsport discretion. CASSIO Iago hath direction what to do; But, notwithstanding, with my personal eye Will I look to't. OTHELLO Iago is most honest. Michael, good night: to-morrow with your earliest Let me have speech with you. [To DESDEMONA] Come, my dear love, The purchase made, the fruits are to ensue; That profit's yet to come 'tween me and you. Good night. [Exeunt OTHELLO, DESDEMONA, and Attendants] [Enter IAGO] CASSIO Welcome, Iago; we must to the watch. IAGO Not this hour, lieutenant; 'tis not yet ten o' the clock. Our general cast us thus early for the love of his Desdemona; who let us not therefore blame: he hath not yet made wanton the night with her; and she is sport for Jove. CASSIO She's a most exquisite lady. IAGO And, I'll warrant her, fun of game. CASSIO Indeed, she's a most fresh and delicate creature. IAGO What an eye she has! methinks it sounds a parley of provocation. CASSIO An inviting eye; and yet methinks right modest. IAGO And when she speaks, is it not an alarum to love? CASSIO She is indeed perfection. IAGO Well, happiness to their sheets! Come, lieutenant, I have a stoup of wine; and here without are a brace of Cyprus gallants that would fain have a measure to the health of black Othello. CASSIO Not to-night, good Iago: I have very poor and unhappy brains for drinking: I could well wish courtesy would invent some other custom of entertainment. IAGO O, they are our friends; but one cup: I'll drink for you. CASSIO I have drunk but one cup to-night, and that was craftily qualified too, and, behold, what innovation it makes here: I am unfortunate in the infirmity, and dare not task my weakness with any more. IAGO What, man! 'tis a night of revels: the gallants desire it. CASSIO Where are they? IAGO Here at the door; I pray you, call them in. CASSIO I'll do't; but it dislikes me. [Exit] IAGO If I can fasten but one cup upon him, With that which he hath drunk to-night already, He'll be as full of quarrel and offence As my young mistress' dog. Now, my sick fool Roderigo, Whom love hath turn'd almost the wrong side out, To Desdemona hath to-night caroused Potations pottle-deep; and he's to watch: Three lads of Cyprus, noble swelling spirits, That hold their honours in a wary distance, The very elements of this warlike isle, Have I to-night 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.--But here they come: If consequence do but approve my dream, My boat sails freely, both with wind and stream. [Re-enter CASSIO; with him MONTANO and Gentlemen; servants following with wine] CASSIO 'Fore God, they have given me a rouse already. MONTANO Good faith, a little one; not past a pint, as I am a soldier. IAGO Some wine, ho! [Sings] And let me the canakin clink, clink; And let me the canakin clink A soldier's a man; A life's but a span; Why, then, let a soldier drink. Some wine, boys! CASSIO 'Fore God, an excellent song. IAGO I learned it in England, where, indeed, they are most potent in potting: your Dane, your German, and your swag-bellied Hollander--Drink, ho!--are nothing to your English. CASSIO Is your Englishman so expert in his drinking? IAGO 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. CASSIO To the health of our general! MONTANO I am for it, lieutenant; and I'll do you justice. IAGO O sweet England! King Stephen was 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. He was a wight of high renown, And thou art but of low degree: 'Tis pride that pulls the country down; Then take thine auld cloak about thee. Some wine, ho! CASSIO Why, this is a more exquisite song than the other. IAGO Will you hear't again? CASSIO No; for I hold him to be unworthy of his place that does those things. Well, God's above all; and there be souls must be saved, and there be souls must not be saved. IAGO It's true, good lieutenant. CASSIO For mine own part,--no offence to the general, nor any man of quality,--I hope to be saved. IAGO And so do I too, lieutenant. CASSIO Ay, but, by your leave, not before me; the lieutenant is to be saved before the ancient. Let's have no more of this; let's to our affairs.--Forgive us our sins!--Gentlemen, let's look to our business. Do not think, gentlemen. I am drunk: this is my ancient; this is my right hand, and this is my left: I am not drunk now; I can stand well enough, and speak well enough. All Excellent well. CASSIO Why, very well then; you must not think then that I am drunk. [Exit] MONTANO To the platform, masters; come, let's set the watch. IAGO You see this fellow that is gone before; He is a soldier fit to stand by Caesar And give direction: and do but see his vice; 'Tis to his virtue a just equinox, The one as long as the other: 'tis pity of him. I fear the trust Othello puts him in. On some odd time of his infirmity, Will shake this island. MONTANO But is he often thus? IAGO 'Tis evermore the prologue to his sleep: He'll watch the horologe a double set, If drink rock not his cradle. MONTANO It were well The general were put in mind of it. Perhaps he sees it not; or his good nature Prizes the virtue that appears in Cassio, And looks not on his evils: is not this true? [Enter RODERIGO] IAGO [Aside to him] How now, Roderigo! I pray you, after the lieutenant; go. [Exit RODERIGO] MONTANO And 'tis great pity that the noble Moor Should hazard such a place as his own second With one of an ingraft infirmity: It were an honest action to say So to the Moor. IAGO Not I, for this fair island: I do love Cassio well; and would do much To cure him of this evil--But, hark! what noise? [Cry within: 'Help! help!'] [Re-enter CASSIO, driving in RODERIGO] CASSIO You rogue! you rascal! MONTANO What's the matter, lieutenant? CASSIO A knave teach me my duty! I'll beat the knave into a twiggen bottle. RODERIGO Beat me! CASSIO Dost thou prate, rogue? [Striking RODERIGO] MONTANO Nay, good lieutenant; [Staying him] I pray you, sir, hold your hand. CASSIO Let me go, sir, Or I'll knock you o'er the mazzard. MONTANO Come, come, you're drunk. CASSIO Drunk! [They fight] IAGO [Aside to RODERIGO] Away, I say; go out, and cry a mutiny. [Exit RODERIGO] Nay, good lieutenant,--alas, gentlemen;-- Help, ho!--Lieutenant,--sir,--Montano,--sir; Help, masters!--Here's a goodly watch indeed! [Bell rings] Who's that which rings the bell?--Diablo, ho! The town will rise: God's will, lieutenant, hold! You will be shamed for ever. [Re-enter OTHELLO and Attendants] OTHELLO What is the matter here? MONTANO 'Zounds, I bleed still; I am hurt to the death. [Faints] OTHELLO Hold, for your lives! IAGO Hold, ho! Lieutenant,--sir--Montano,--gentlemen,-- Have you forgot all sense of place and duty? Hold! the general speaks to you; hold, hold, for shame! OTHELLO Why, how now, ho! from whence ariseth this? Are we turn'd Turks, and to ourselves do that Which heaven hath forbid the Ottomites? For Christian shame, put by this barbarous brawl: He that stirs next to carve for his own rage Holds his soul light; he dies upon his motion. Silence that dreadful bell: it frights the isle From her propriety. What is the matter, masters? Honest Iago, that look'st dead with grieving, Speak, who began this? on thy love, I charge thee. IAGO I do not know: friends all but now, even now, In quarter, and in terms like bride and groom Devesting them for bed; and then, but now-- As if some planet had unwitted men-- Swords out, and tilting one at other's breast, In opposition bloody. 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 How comes it, Michael, you are thus forgot? CASSIO I pray you, pardon me; I cannot speak. OTHELLO Worthy Montano, you were wont be civil; The gravity and stillness of your youth The world hath noted, and your name is great In mouths of wisest censure: what's the matter, That you unlace your reputation thus And spend your rich opinion for the name Of a night-brawler? give me answer to it. MONTANO Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger: Your officer, Iago, can inform you,-- While I spare speech, which something now offends me,-- Of all that I do know: nor know I aught By me that's said or done amiss this night; Unless self-charity be sometimes a vice, And to defend ourselves it be a sin When violence assails us. OTHELLO Now, by heaven, My blood begins my safer guides to rule; And passion, having my best judgment collied, Assays to lead the way: if I once stir, Or do but lift this arm, the best of you Shall sink in my rebuke. Give me to know How this foul rout began, who set it on; And he that is approved in this offence, Though he had twinn'd with me, both at a birth, Shall lose me. What! in a town of war, Yet wild, the people's hearts brimful of fear, To manage private and domestic quarrel, In night, and on the court and guard of safety! 'Tis monstrous. Iago, who began't? MONTANO If partially affined, or leagued in office, Thou dost deliver more or less than truth, Thou art no soldier. IAGO Touch me not so near: I had rather have this tongue cut from my mouth Than it should do offence to Michael Cassio; Yet, I persuade myself, to speak the truth Shall nothing wrong him. Thus it is, general. Montano and myself being in speech, There comes a fellow crying out for help: And Cassio following him with determined sword, To execute upon him. Sir, this gentleman Steps in to Cassio, and entreats his pause: Myself the crying fellow did pursue, Lest by his clamour--as it so fell out-- The town might fall in fright: he, swift of foot, Outran my purpose; and I return'd the rather For that I heard the clink and fall of swords, And Cassio high in oath; which till to-night I ne'er might say before. 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. More of this matter cannot I report: But men are men; the best sometimes forget: Though Cassio did some little wrong to him, As men in rage strike those that wish them best, Yet surely Cassio, I believe, received From him that fled some strange indignity, Which patience could not pass. OTHELLO I know, Iago, Thy honesty and love doth mince this matter, Making it light to Cassio. Cassio, I love thee But never more be officer of mine. [Re-enter DESDEMONA, attended] Look, if my gentle love be not raised up! I'll make thee an example. DESDEMONA What's the matter? OTHELLO All's well now, sweeting; come away to bed. Sir, for your hurts, myself will be your surgeon: Lead him off. [To MONTANO, who is led off] Iago, look with care about the town, And silence those whom this vile brawl distracted. Come, Desdemona: 'tis the soldiers' life To have their balmy slumbers waked with strife. [Exeunt all but IAGO and CASSIO] IAGO What, are you hurt, lieutenant? CASSIO Ay, past all surgery. IAGO Marry, heaven forbid! CASSIO Reputation, reputation, reputation! O, I have lost my reputation! I have lost the immortal part of myself, and what remains is bestial. My reputation, Iago, my reputation! IAGO As I am an honest man, I thought you had received some bodily wound; there is more sense in that than in reputation. Reputation is an idle and most false imposition: oft got without merit, and lost without deserving: you have lost no reputation at all, unless you repute yourself such a loser. What, man! there are ways to recover the general again: you are but now cast in his mood, a punishment more in policy than in malice, even so as one would beat his offenceless dog to affright an imperious lion: sue to him again, and he's yours. CASSIO I will rather sue to be despised than to deceive so good a commander with so slight, so drunken, and so indiscreet an officer. Drunk? and speak parrot? and squabble? swagger? swear? and discourse fustian with one's own shadow? O thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee devil! IAGO What was he that you followed with your sword? What had he done to you? CASSIO I know not. IAGO Is't possible? CASSIO I remember a mass of things, but nothing distinctly; a quarrel, but nothing wherefore. O God, that men should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away their brains! that we should, with joy, pleasance revel and applause, transform ourselves into beasts! IAGO Why, but you are now well enough: how came you thus recovered? CASSIO It hath pleased the devil drunkenness to give place to the devil wrath; one unperfectness shows me another, to make me frankly despise myself. IAGO Come, you are too severe a moraler: as the time, the place, and the condition of this country stands, I could heartily wish this had not befallen; but, since it is as it is, mend it for your own good. CASSIO 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 unblessed and the ingredient is a devil. IAGO Come, come, good wine is a good familiar creature, if it be well used: exclaim no more against it. And, good lieutenant, I think you think I love you. CASSIO I have well approved it, sir. I drunk! IAGO You or any man living may be drunk! at a time, man. I'll tell you what you shall do. Our general's wife is now the general: may say so in this respect, for that he hath devoted and given up himself to the contemplation, mark, and denotement of her parts and graces: confess yourself freely to her; importune her help to put you in your place again: she is of so free, so kind, so apt, so blessed a disposition, she holds it a vice in her goodness not to do more than she is requested: this broken joint between you and her husband entreat her to splinter; and, my fortunes against any lay worth naming, this crack of your love shall grow stronger than it was before. CASSIO You advise me well. IAGO I protest, in the sincerity of love and honest kindness. CASSIO I think it freely; and betimes in the morning I will beseech the virtuous Desdemona to undertake for me: I am desperate of my fortunes if they cheque me here. IAGO You are in the right. Good night, lieutenant; I must to the watch. CASSIO: Good night, honest Iago. [Exit] IAGO And what's he then that says I play the villain? When this advice is free I give and honest, Probal to thinking and indeed the course To win the Moor again? For 'tis most easy The inclining Desdemona to subdue In any honest suit: she's framed as fruitful As the free elements. And then for her To win the Moor--were't to renounce his baptism, All seals and symbols of redeemed sin, His soul is so enfetter'd to her love, That she may make, unmake, do what she list, Even as her appetite shall play the god With his weak function. How am I then a villain To counsel Cassio to this parallel course, Directly to his good? Divinity of hell! When devils will the blackest sins put on, They do suggest at first with heavenly shows, As I do now: for whiles this honest fool Plies Desdemona to repair his fortunes 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. [Re-enter RODERIGO] How now, Roderigo! RODERIGO I do follow here in the chase, not like a hound that hunts, but one that fills up the cry. My money is almost spent; I have been to-night exceedingly well cudgelled; and I think the issue will be, I shall have so much experience for my pains, and so, with no money at all and a little more wit, return again to Venice. IAGO How poor are they that have not patience! What wound did ever heal but by degrees? Thou know'st we work by wit, and not by witchcraft; And wit depends on dilatory time. Does't not go well? Cassio hath beaten thee. And thou, by that small hurt, hast cashier'd Cassio: Though other things grow fair against the sun, Yet fruits that blossom first will first be ripe: Content thyself awhile. By the mass, 'tis morning; Pleasure and action make the hours seem short. Retire thee; go where thou art billeted: Away, I say; thou shalt know more hereafter: Nay, get thee gone. [Exit RODERIGO] Two things are to be done: My wife must move for Cassio to her mistress; I'll set her on; Myself the while to draw the Moor apart, And bring him jump when he may Cassio find Soliciting his wife: ay, that's the way Dull not device by coldness and delay. [Exit] OTHELLO ACT III SCENE I Before the castle. [Enter CASSIO and some Musicians] CASSIO Masters, play here; I will content your pains; Something that's brief; and bid 'Good morrow, general.' [Music] [Enter Clown] Clown Why masters, have your instruments been in Naples, that they speak i' the nose thus? First Musician How, sir, how! Clown Are these, I pray you, wind-instruments? First Musician Ay, marry, are they, sir. Clown O, thereby hangs a tail. First Musician Whereby hangs a tale, sir? Clown Marry. sir, by many a wind-instrument that I know. But, masters, here's money for you: and the general so likes your music, that he desires you, for love's sake, to make no more noise with it. First Musician Well, sir, we will not. Clown If you have any music that may not be heard, to't again: but, as they say to hear music the general does not greatly care. First Musician We have none such, sir. Clown Then put up your pipes in your bag, for I'll away: go; vanish into air; away! [Exeunt Musicians] CASSIO Dost thou hear, my honest friend? Clown No, I hear not your honest friend; I hear you. CASSIO Prithee, keep up thy quillets. There's a poor piece of gold for thee: if the gentlewoman that attends the general's wife be stirring, tell her there's one Cassio entreats her a little favour of speech: wilt thou do this? Clown She is stirring, sir: if she will stir hither, I shall seem to notify unto her. CASSIO Do, good my friend. [Exit Clown] [Enter IAGO] In happy time, Iago. IAGO You have not been a-bed, then? CASSIO Why, no; the day had broke Before we parted. I have made bold, Iago, To send in to your wife: my suit to her Is, that she will to virtuous Desdemona Procure me some access. IAGO I'll send her to you presently; And I'll devise a mean to draw the Moor Out of the way, that your converse and business May be more free. CASSIO I humbly thank you for't. [Exit IAGO] I never knew A Florentine more kind and honest. [Enter EMILIA] EMILIA Good morrow, good Lieutenant: I am sorry For your displeasure; but all will sure be well. The general and his wife are talking of it; And she speaks for you stoutly: the Moor replies, That he you hurt is of great fame in Cyprus, And great affinity, and that in wholesome wisdom He might not but refuse you; but he protests he loves you And needs no other suitor but his likings To take the safest occasion by the front To bring you in again. CASSIO Yet, I beseech you, If you think fit, or that it may be done, Give me advantage of some brief discourse With Desdemona alone. EMILIA Pray you, come in; I will bestow you where you shall have time To speak your bosom freely. CASSIO I am much bound to you. [Exeunt] OTHELLO ACT III SCENE II A room in the castle. [Enter OTHELLO, IAGO, and Gentlemen] OTHELLO These letters give, Iago, to the pilot; And by him do my duties to the senate: That done, I will be walking on the works; Repair there to me. IAGO Well, my good lord, I'll do't. OTHELLO This fortification, gentlemen, shall we see't? Gentleman We'll wait upon your lordship. [Exeunt] OTHELLO ACT III SCENE III The garden of the castle. [Enter DESDEMONA, CASSIO, and EMILIA] DESDEMONA Be thou assured, good Cassio, I will do All my abilities in thy behalf. EMILIA Good madam, do: I warrant it grieves my husband, As if the case were his. DESDEMONA O, that's an honest fellow. Do not doubt, Cassio, But I will have my lord and you again As friendly as you were. CASSIO Bounteous madam, Whatever shall become of Michael Cassio, He's never any thing but your true servant. DESDEMONA I know't; I thank you. You do love my lord: You have known him long; and be you well assured He shall in strangeness stand no further off Than in a polite distance. CASSIO Ay, but, lady, That policy may either last so long, Or feed upon such nice and waterish diet, Or breed itself so out of circumstance, That, I being absent and my place supplied, My general will forget my love and service. DESDEMONA Do not doubt that; 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: my lord shall never rest; I'll watch him tame and talk him out of patience; His bed shall seem a school, his board a shrift; I'll intermingle every thing he does With Cassio's suit: therefore be merry, Cassio; For thy solicitor shall rather die Than give thy cause away. EMILIA Madam, here comes my lord. CASSIO Madam, I'll take my leave. DESDEMONA Why, stay, and hear me speak. CASSIO Madam, not now: I am very ill at ease, Unfit for mine own purposes. DESDEMONA Well, do your discretion. [Exit CASSIO] [Enter OTHELLO and IAGO] IAGO Ha! I like not that. OTHELLO What dost thou say? IAGO Nothing, my lord: or if--I know not what. OTHELLO Was not that Cassio parted from my wife? IAGO Cassio, my lord! No, sure, I cannot think it, That he would steal away so guilty-like, Seeing you coming. OTHELLO I do believe 'twas he. DESDEMONA How now, my lord! I have been talking with a suitor here, A man that languishes in your displeasure. OTHELLO Who is't you mean? DESDEMONA Why, your lieutenant, Cassio. Good my lord, If I have any grace or power to move you, His present reconciliation take; For if he be not one that truly loves you, That errs in ignorance and not in cunning, I have no judgment in an honest face: I prithee, call him back. OTHELLO Went he hence now? DESDEMONA Ay, sooth; so humbled That he hath left part of his grief with me, To suffer with him. Good love, call him back. OTHELLO Not now, sweet Desdemona; some other time. DESDEMONA But shall't be shortly? OTHELLO The sooner, sweet, for you. DESDEMONA Shall't be to-night at supper? OTHELLO No, not to-night. DESDEMONA To-morrow dinner, then? OTHELLO I shall not dine at home; I meet the captains at the citadel. DESDEMONA Why, then, to-morrow night; or Tuesday morn; On Tuesday noon, or night; on Wednesday morn: I prithee, name the time, but let it not Exceed three days: in faith, he's penitent; And yet his trespass, in our common reason-- Save that, they say, the wars must make examples Out of their best--is not almost a fault To incur a private cheque. When shall he come? Tell me, Othello: I wonder in my soul, What you would ask me, that I should deny, Or stand so mammering on. What! Michael Cassio, That came a-wooing 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 Prithee, no more: let him come when he will; I will deny thee nothing. DESDEMONA Why, this is not a boon; 'Tis as I should entreat you wear your gloves, Or feed on nourishing dishes, or keep you warm, Or sue to you to do a peculiar profit To your own person: nay, when I have a suit Wherein I mean to touch your love indeed, It shall be full of poise and difficult weight And fearful to be granted. OTHELLO I will deny thee nothing: Whereon, I do beseech thee, grant me this, To leave me but a little to myself. DESDEMONA Shall I deny you? no: farewell, my lord. OTHELLO Farewell, my Desdemona: I'll come to thee straight. DESDEMONA Emilia, come. Be as your fancies teach you; Whate'er you be, I am obedient. [Exeunt DESDEMONA and EMILIA] OTHELLO Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul, But I do love thee! and when I love thee not, Chaos is come again. IAGO My noble lord-- OTHELLO What dost thou say, Iago? IAGO Did Michael Cassio, when you woo'd my lady, Know of your love? OTHELLO He did, from first to last: why dost thou ask? IAGO But for a satisfaction of my thought; No further harm. OTHELLO Why of thy thought, Iago? IAGO I did not think he had been acquainted with her. OTHELLO O, yes; and went between us very oft. IAGO Indeed! OTHELLO Indeed! ay, indeed: discern'st thou aught in that? Is he not honest? IAGO Honest, my lord! OTHELLO Honest! ay, honest. IAGO My lord, for aught I know. OTHELLO What dost thou think? IAGO Think, my lord! OTHELLO Think, my lord! By heaven, he echoes me, As if there were some monster in his thought Too hideous to be shown. Thou dost mean something: I heard thee say even now, thou likedst not that, When Cassio left my wife: what didst not like? And when I told thee he was of my counsel In my whole course of wooing, thou criedst 'Indeed!' And didst contract and purse thy brow together, As if thou then hadst shut up in thy brain Some horrible conceit: if thou dost love me, Show me thy thought. IAGO My lord, you know I love you. OTHELLO I think thou dost; And, for I know thou'rt full of love and honesty, And weigh'st thy words before thou givest them breath, Therefore these stops of thine fright me the more: For such things in a false disloyal knave Are tricks of custom, but in a man that's just They are close delations, working from the heart That passion cannot rule. IAGO For Michael Cassio, I dare be sworn I think that he is honest. OTHELLO I think so too. IAGO Men should be what they seem; Or those that be not, would they might seem none! OTHELLO Certain, men should be what they seem. IAGO Why, then, I think Cassio's an honest man. OTHELLO Nay, yet there's more in this: I prithee, speak to me as to thy thinkings, As thou dost ruminate, and give thy worst of thoughts The worst of words. IAGO Good my lord, pardon me: Though I am bound to every act of duty, I am not bound to that all slaves are free to. 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 Thou dost conspire against thy friend, Iago, If thou but think'st him wrong'd and makest his ear A stranger to thy thoughts. IAGO I do beseech you-- Though I perchance am vicious in my guess, As, I confess, it is my nature's plague To spy into abuses, and oft my jealousy Shapes faults that are not--that your wisdom yet, From one that so imperfectly conceits, Would take no notice, nor build yourself a trouble Out of his scattering and unsure observance. It were not for your quiet nor your good, Nor for my manhood, honesty, or wisdom, To let you know my thoughts. OTHELLO What dost thou mean? IAGO Good name in man and woman, dear my lord, Is the immediate jewel of their souls: Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing; 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands: But he that filches from me my good name Robs me of that which not enriches him And makes me poor indeed. OTHELLO By heaven, I'll know thy thoughts. IAGO You cannot, if my heart were in your hand; Nor shall not, whilst 'tis in my custody. OTHELLO Ha! IAGO 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 O misery! IAGO Poor and content is rich and rich enough, But riches fineless is as poor as winter To him that ever fears he shall be poor. Good heaven, the souls of all my tribe defend From jealousy! OTHELLO Why, why is this? Think'st thou I'ld make a lie of jealousy, To follow still the changes of the moon With fresh suspicions? No; to be once in doubt Is once to be resolved: exchange me for a goat, When I shall turn the business of my soul To such exsufflicate and blown surmises, Matching thy inference. '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: Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw The smallest fear or doubt of her revolt; For she had eyes, and chose me. No, Iago; I'll see before I doubt; when I doubt, prove; And on the proof, there is no more but this,-- Away at once with love or jealousy! IAGO I am glad of it; for now I shall have reason To show the love and duty that I bear you With franker spirit: therefore, as I am bound, Receive it from me. I speak not yet of proof. Look to your wife; observe her well with Cassio; Wear your eye thus, not jealous nor secure: I would not have your free and noble nature, Out of self-bounty, be abused; look to't: I know our country disposition well; In Venice they do let heaven see the pranks They dare not show their husbands; their best conscience Is not to leave't undone, but keep't unknown. OTHELLO Dost thou say so? IAGO She did deceive her father, marrying you; And when she seem'd to shake and fear your looks, She loved them most. OTHELLO And so she did. IAGO Why, go to then; She that, so young, could give out such a seeming, To seal her father's eyes up close as oak- He thought 'twas witchcraft--but I am much to blame; I humbly do beseech you of your pardon For too much loving you. OTHELLO I am bound to thee for ever. IAGO I see this hath a little dash'd your spirits. OTHELLO Not a jot, not a jot. IAGO I' faith, I fear it has. I hope you will consider what is spoke Comes from my love. But I do see you're moved: I am to pray you not to strain my speech To grosser issues nor to larger reach Than to suspicion. OTHELLO I will not. IAGO Should you do so, my lord, My speech should fall into such vile success As my thoughts aim not at. Cassio's my worthy friend-- My lord, I see you're moved. OTHELLO No, not much moved: I do not think but Desdemona's honest. IAGO Long live she so! and long live you to think so! OTHELLO And yet, how nature erring from itself,-- IAGO Ay, there's the point: as--to be bold with you-- Not to affect many proposed matches Of her own clime, complexion, and degree, Whereto we see in all things nature tends-- Foh! one may smell in such a will most rank, Foul disproportion thoughts unnatural. But pardon me; I do not in position Distinctly speak of her; though I may fear Her will, recoiling to her better judgment, May fall to match you with her country forms And happily repent. OTHELLO Farewell, farewell: If more thou dost perceive, let me know more; Set on thy wife to observe: leave me, Iago: IAGO [Going] My lord, I take my leave. OTHELLO Why did I marry? This honest creature doubtless Sees and knows more, much more, than he unfolds. IAGO [Returning] My lord, I would I might entreat your honour To scan this thing no further; leave it to time: Though it be fit that Cassio have his place, For sure, he fills it up with great ability, Yet, if you please to hold him off awhile, You shall by that perceive him and his means: Note, if your lady strain his entertainment With any strong or vehement importunity; Much will be seen in that. In the mean time, Let me be thought too busy in my fears-- As worthy cause I have to fear I am-- And hold her free, I do beseech your honour. OTHELLO Fear not my government. IAGO I once more take my leave. [Exit] OTHELLO This fellow's of exceeding honesty, And knows all qualities, with a learned spirit, Of human dealings. If I do prove her haggard, Though that her jesses were my dear heartstrings, I'ld whistle her off and let her down the wind, To pray at fortune. Haply, for I am black And have not those soft parts of conversation That chamberers have, or for I am declined Into the vale of years,--yet that's not much-- She's gone. I am abused; and my relief Must be to loathe her. 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 vapour of a dungeon, Than keep a corner in the thing I love For others' uses. Yet, 'tis the plague of great ones; Prerogatived are they less than the base; 'Tis destiny unshunnable, like death: Even then this forked plague is fated to us When we do quicken. Desdemona comes: [Re-enter DESDEMONA and EMILIA] If she be false, O, then heaven mocks itself! I'll not believe't. DESDEMONA How now, my dear Othello! Your dinner, and the generous islanders By you invited, do attend your presence. OTHELLO I am to blame. DESDEMONA Why do you speak so faintly? Are you not well? OTHELLO I have a pain upon my forehead here. DESDEMONA 'Faith, that's with watching; 'twill away again: Let me but bind it hard, within this hour It will be well. OTHELLO Your napkin is too little: [He puts the handkerchief from him; and it drops] Let it alone. Come, I'll go in with you. DESDEMONA I am very sorry that you are not well. [Exeunt OTHELLO and DESDEMONA] EMILIA I am glad I have found this napkin: This was her first remembrance from the Moor: My wayward husband hath a hundred times Woo'd me to steal it; but she so loves the token, For he conjured her she should ever keep it, That she reserves it evermore about her To kiss and talk to. I'll have the work ta'en out, And give't Iago: what he will do with it Heaven knows, not I; I nothing but to please his fantasy. [Re-enter Iago] IAGO How now! what do you here alone? EMILIA Do not you chide; I have a thing for you. IAGO A thing for me? it is a common thing-- EMILIA Ha! IAGO To have a foolish wife. EMILIA O, is that all? What will you give me now For the same handkerchief? IAGO What handkerchief? EMILIA What handkerchief? Why, that the Moor first gave to Desdemona; That which so often you did bid me steal. IAGO Hast stol'n it from her? EMILIA No, 'faith; she let it drop by negligence. And, to the advantage, I, being here, took't up. Look, here it is. IAGO A good wench; give it me. EMILIA What will you do with 't, that you have been so earnest To have me filch it? IAGO [Snatching it] Why, what's that to you? EMILIA If it be not for some purpose of import, Give't me again: poor lady, she'll run mad When she shall lack it. IAGO Be not acknown on 't; I have use for it. Go, leave me. [Exit EMILIA] I will in Cassio's lodging lose this napkin, And let him find it. Trifles light as air Are to the jealous confirmations strong As proofs of holy writ: this may do something. The Moor already changes with my poison: 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. I did say so: Look, where he comes! [Re-enter OTHELLO] Not poppy, nor mandragora, Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world, Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep Which thou owedst yesterday. OTHELLO Ha! ha! false to me? IAGO Why, how now, general! no more of that. OTHELLO Avaunt! be gone! thou hast set me on the rack: I swear 'tis better to be much abused Than but to know't a little. IAGO How now, my lord! OTHELLO What sense had I of her stol'n hours of lust? I saw't not, thought it not, it harm'd not me: I slept the next night well, was free and merry; I found not Cassio's kisses on her lips: He that is robb'd, not wanting what is stol'n, Let him not know't, and he's not robb'd at all. IAGO I am sorry to hear this. OTHELLO I had been happy, if the general camp, Pioners and all, had tasted her sweet body, So I had nothing known. O, now, for ever Farewell the tranquil mind! farewell content! Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars, That make ambition virtue! O, farewell! Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump, The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife, The royal banner, and all quality, Pride, pomp and circumstance of glorious war! And, O you mortal engines, whose rude throats The immortal Jove's dead clamours counterfeit, Farewell! Othello's occupation's gone! IAGO Is't possible, my lord? OTHELLO Villain, be sure thou prove my love a whore, Be sure of it; give me the ocular proof: Or by the worth of man's eternal soul, Thou hadst been better have been born a dog Than answer my waked wrath! IAGO Is't come to this? OTHELLO Make me to see't; or, at the least, so prove it, That the probation bear no hinge nor loop To hang a doubt on; or woe upon thy life! IAGO My noble lord,-- OTHELLO If thou dost slander her and torture me, Never pray more; abandon all remorse; On horror's head horrors accumulate; Do deeds to make heaven weep, all earth amazed; For nothing canst thou to damnation add Greater than that. IAGO O grace! O heaven forgive me! Are you a man? have you a soul or sense? God be wi' you; take mine office. O wretched fool. That livest to make thine honesty a vice! O monstrous world! Take note, take note, O world, To be direct and honest is not safe. I thank you for this profit; and from hence I'll love no friend, sith love breeds such offence. OTHELLO Nay, stay: thou shouldst be honest. IAGO I should be wise, for honesty's a fool And loses that it works for. OTHELLO By the world, I think my wife be honest and think she is not; I think that thou art just and think thou art not. I'll have some proof. Her name, that was as fresh As Dian's visage, is now begrimed and black As mine own face. If there be cords, or knives, Poison, or fire, or suffocating streams, I'll not endure it. Would I were satisfied! IAGO I see, sir, you are eaten up with passion: I do repent me that I put it to you. You would be satisfied? OTHELLO Would! nay, I will. IAGO And may: but, how? how satisfied, my lord? Would you, the supervisor, grossly gape on-- Behold her topp'd? OTHELLO Death and damnation! O! IAGO It were a tedious difficulty, I think, To bring them to that prospect: damn them then, If ever mortal eyes do see them bolster More than their own! What then? how then? What shall I say? Where's satisfaction? It is impossible you should see this, Were they as prime as goats, as hot as monkeys, As salt as wolves in pride, and fools as gross As ignorance made drunk. But yet, I say, If imputation and strong circumstances, Which lead directly to the door of truth, Will give you satisfaction, you may have't. OTHELLO Give me a living reason she's disloyal. IAGO I do not like the office: But, sith I am enter'd in this cause so far, Prick'd to't by foolish honesty and love, I will go on. I lay with Cassio lately; And, being troubled with a raging tooth, I could not sleep. There are a kind of men so loose of soul, That in their sleeps will mutter their affairs: One of this kind is Cassio: 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 O monstrous! monstrous! IAGO Nay, this was but his dream. OTHELLO But this denoted a foregone conclusion: 'Tis a shrewd doubt, though it be but a dream. IAGO And this may help to thicken other proofs That do demonstrate thinly. OTHELLO I'll tear her all to pieces. IAGO Nay, but be wise: yet we see nothing done; She may be honest yet. Tell me but this, Have you not sometimes seen a handkerchief Spotted with strawberries in your wife's hand? OTHELLO I gave her such a one; 'twas my first gift. IAGO I know not that; but such a handkerchief-- I am sure it was your wife's--did I to-day See Cassio wipe his beard with. OTHELLO If it be that-- IAGO If it be that, or any that was hers, It speaks against her with the other proofs. OTHELLO O, that the slave had forty thousand lives! One is too poor, too weak for my revenge. Now do I see 'tis true. Look here, Iago; All my fond love thus do I blow to heaven. 'Tis gone. Arise, black vengeance, from thy hollow cell! Yield up, O love, thy crown and hearted throne To tyrannous hate! Swell, bosom, with thy fraught, For 'tis of aspics' tongues! IAGO Yet be content. OTHELLO O, blood, blood, blood! IAGO Patience, I say; your mind perhaps may change. OTHELLO Never, Iago: 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, [Kneels] In the due reverence of a sacred vow I here engage my words. IAGO Do not rise yet. [Kneels] Witness, you ever-burning lights above, You elements that clip us round about, Witness that here Iago doth give up The execution of his wit, hands, heart, To wrong'd Othello's service! Let him command, And to obey shall be in me remorse, What bloody business ever. [They rise] OTHELLO I greet thy love, Not with vain thanks, but with acceptance bounteous, And will upon the instant put thee to't: Within these three days let me hear thee say That Cassio's not alive. IAGO My friend is dead; 'tis done at your request: But let her live. OTHELLO 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. Now art thou my lieutenant. IAGO I am your own for ever. [Exeunt] OTHELLO ACT III SCENE IV Before the castle. [Enter DESDEMONA, EMILIA, and Clown] DESDEMONA Do you know, sirrah, where Lieutenant Cassio lies? Clown I dare not say he lies any where. DESDEMONA Why, man? Clown He's a soldier, and for one to say a soldier lies, is stabbing. DESDEMONA Go to: where lodges he? Clown To tell you where he lodges, is to tell you where I lie. DESDEMONA Can any thing be made of this? Clown I know not where he lodges, and for me to devise a lodging and say he lies here or he lies there, were to lie in mine own throat. DESDEMONA Can you inquire him out, and be edified by report? Clown I will catechise the world for him; that is, make questions, and by them answer. DESDEMONA Seek him, bid him come hither: tell him I have moved my lord on his behalf, and hope all will be well. Clown To do this is within the compass of man's wit: and therefore I will attempt the doing it. [Exit] DESDEMONA Where should I lose that handkerchief, Emilia? EMILIA I know not, madam. DESDEMONA Believe me, I had rather have lost my purse Full of crusadoes: and, but my noble Moor Is true of mind and made of no such baseness As jealous creatures are, it were enough To put him to ill thinking. EMILIA Is he not jealous? DESDEMONA Who, he? I think the sun where he was born Drew all such humours from him. EMILIA Look, where he comes. DESDEMONA I will not leave him now till Cassio Be call'd to him. [Enter OTHELLO] How is't with you, my lord OTHELLO Well, my good lady. [Aside] O, hardness to dissemble!-- How do you, Desdemona? DESDEMONA Well, my good lord. OTHELLO Give me your hand: this hand is moist, my lady. DESDEMONA It yet hath felt no age nor known no sorrow. OTHELLO This argues fruitfulness and liberal heart: Hot, hot, and moist: this hand of yours requires A sequester from liberty, fasting and prayer, Much castigation, exercise devout; For here's a young and sweating devil here, That commonly rebels. 'Tis a good hand, A frank one. DESDEMONA You may, indeed, say so; For 'twas that hand that gave away my heart. OTHELLO A liberal hand: the hearts of old gave hands; But our new heraldry is hands, not hearts. DESDEMONA I cannot speak of this. Come now, your promise. OTHELLO What promise, chuck? DESDEMONA I have sent to bid Cassio come speak with you. OTHELLO I have a salt and sorry rheum offends me; Lend me thy handkerchief. DESDEMONA Here, my lord. OTHELLO That which I gave you. DESDEMONA I have it not about me. OTHELLO Not? DESDEMONA No, indeed, my lord. OTHELLO That is a fault. That handkerchief Did an Egyptian to my mother give; She was a charmer, and could almost read The thoughts of people: she told her, while she kept it, 'Twould make her amiable and subdue my father Entirely to her love, but if she lost it Or made gift of it, my father's eye Should hold her loathed and his spirits should hunt After new fancies: she, dying, gave it me; And bid me, when my fate would have me wive, To give it her. I did so: and take heed on't; Make it a darling like your precious eye; To lose't or give't away were such perdition As nothing else could match. DESDEMONA Is't possible? OTHELLO 'Tis true: there's magic in the web of it: A sibyl, that had number'd in the world The sun to course two hundred compasses, In her prophetic fury sew'd the work; The worms were hallow'd that did breed the silk; And it was dyed in mummy which the skilful Conserved of maidens' hearts. DESDEMONA Indeed! is't true? OTHELLO Most veritable; therefore look to't well. DESDEMONA Then would to God that I had never seen't! OTHELLO Ha! wherefore? DESDEMONA Why do you speak so startingly and rash? OTHELLO Is't lost? is't gone? speak, is it out o' the way? DESDEMONA Heaven bless us! OTHELLO Say you? DESDEMONA It is not lost; but what an if it were? OTHELLO How! DESDEMONA I say, it is not lost. OTHELLO Fetch't, let me see't. DESDEMONA Why, so I can, sir, but I will not now. This is a trick to put me from my suit: Pray you, let Cassio be received again. OTHELLO Fetch me the handkerchief: my mind misgives. DESDEMONA Come, come; You'll never meet a more sufficient man. OTHELLO The handkerchief! DESDEMONA I pray, talk me of Cassio. OTHELLO The handkerchief! DESDEMONA A man that all his time Hath founded his good fortunes on your love, Shared dangers with you,-- OTHELLO The handkerchief! DESDEMONA In sooth, you are to blame. OTHELLO Away! [Exit] EMILIA Is not this man jealous? DESDEMONA I ne'er saw this before. Sure, there's some wonder in this handkerchief: I am most unhappy in the loss of it. EMILIA 'Tis not a year or two shows us a man: They are all but stomachs, and we all but food; To eat us hungerly, and when they are full, They belch us. Look you, Cassio and my husband! [Enter CASSIO and IAGO] IAGO There is no other way; 'tis she must do't: And, lo, the happiness! go, and importune her. DESDEMONA How now, good Cassio! what's the news with you? CASSIO Madam, my former suit: I do beseech you That by your virtuous means I may again Exist, and be a member of his love Whom I with all the office of my heart Entirely honour: I would not be delay'd. If my offence be of such mortal kind That nor my service past, nor present sorrows, Nor purposed merit in futurity, Can ransom me into his love again, But to know so must be my benefit; So shall I clothe me in a forced content, And shut myself up in some other course, To fortune's alms. DESDEMONA Alas, thrice-gentle Cassio! My advocation is not now in tune; My lord is not my lord; nor should I know him, Were he in favour as in humour alter'd. So help me every spirit sanctified, As I have spoken for you all my best And stood within the blank of his displeasure For my free speech! you must awhile be patient: What I can do I will; and more I will Than for myself I dare: let that suffice you. IAGO Is my lord angry? EMILIA He went hence but now, And certainly in strange unquietness. IAGO 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:--and can he be angry? Something of moment then: I will go meet him: There's matter in't indeed, if he be angry. DESDEMONA I prithee, do so. [Exit IAGO] Something, sure, of state, Either from Venice, or some unhatch'd practise 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. 'Tis even so; For let our finger ache, and it indues Our other healthful members even to that sense Of pain: nay, we must think men are not gods, Nor of them look for such observances As fit the bridal. Beshrew me much, Emilia, I was, unhandsome warrior as I am, Arraigning his unkindness with my soul; But now I find I had suborn'd the witness, And he's indicted falsely. EMILIA Pray heaven it be state-matters, as you think, And no conception nor no jealous toy Concerning you. DESDEMONA Alas the day! I never gave him cause. EMILIA But jealous souls will not be answer'd so; They are not ever jealous for the cause, But jealous for they are jealous: 'tis a monster Begot upon itself, born on itself. DESDEMONA Heaven keep that monster from Othello's mind! EMILIA Lady, amen. DESDEMONA I will go seek him. Cassio, walk hereabout: If I do find him fit, I'll move your suit And seek to effect it to my uttermost. CASSIO I humbly thank your ladyship. [Exeunt DESDEMONA and EMILIA] [Enter BIANCA] BIANCA Save you, friend Cassio! CASSIO What make you from home? How is it with you, my most fair Bianca? I' faith, sweet love, I was coming to your house. BIANCA And I was going to your lodging, Cassio. What, keep a week away? seven days and nights? Eight score eight hours? and lovers' absent hours, More tedious than the dial eight score times? O weary reckoning! CASSIO Pardon me, Bianca: I have this while with leaden thoughts been press'd: But I shall, in a more continuate time, Strike off this score of absence. Sweet Bianca, [Giving her DESDEMONA's handkerchief] Take me this work out. BIANCA O Cassio, whence came this? This is some token from a newer friend: To the felt absence now I feel a cause: Is't come to this? Well, well. CASSIO Go to, woman! Throw your vile guesses in the devil's teeth, From whence you have them. You are jealous now That this is from some mistress, some remembrance: No, in good troth, Bianca. BIANCA Why, whose is it? CASSIO I know not, sweet: I found it in my chamber. I like the work well: ere it be demanded-- As like enough it will--I'ld have it copied: Take it, and do't; and leave me for this time. BIANCA Leave you! wherefore? CASSIO I do attend here on the general; And think it no addition, nor my wish, To have him see me woman'd. BIANCA Why, I pray you? CASSIO Not that I love you not. BIANCA But that you do not love me. I pray you, bring me on the way a little, And say if I shall see you soon at night. CASSIO 'Tis but a little way that I can bring you; For I attend here: but I'll see you soon. BIANCA 'Tis very good; I must be circumstanced. [Exeunt] OTHELLO ACT IV SCENE I Cyprus. Before the castle. [Enter OTHELLO and IAGO] IAGO Will you think so? OTHELLO Think so, Iago! IAGO What, To kiss in private? OTHELLO An unauthorized kiss. IAGO Or to be naked with her friend in bed An hour or more, not meaning any harm? OTHELLO Naked in bed, Iago, and not mean harm! It is hypocrisy against the devil: They that mean virtuously, and yet do so, The devil their virtue tempts, and they tempt heaven. IAGO So they do nothing, 'tis a venial slip: But if I give my wife a handkerchief,-- OTHELLO What then? IAGO Why, then, 'tis hers, my lord; and, being hers, She may, I think, bestow't on any man. OTHELLO She is protectress of her honour too: May she give that? IAGO Her honour is an essence that's not seen; They have it very oft that have it not: But, for the handkerchief,-- OTHELLO By heaven, I would most gladly have forgot it. Thou said'st, it comes o'er my memory, As doth the raven o'er the infected house, Boding to all--he had my handkerchief. IAGO Ay, what of that? OTHELLO That's not so good now. IAGO 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 Hath he said any thing? IAGO He hath, my lord; but be you well assured, No more than he'll unswear. OTHELLO What hath he said? IAGO 'Faith, that he did--I know not what he did. OTHELLO What? what? IAGO Lie-- OTHELLO With her? IAGO With her, on her; what you will. OTHELLO Lie with her! lie on her! We say lie on her, when they belie her. Lie with her! that's fulsome. --Handkerchief--confessions--handkerchief!--To confess, and be hanged for his labour;--first, to be hanged, and then to confess.--I tremble at it. Nature would not invest herself in such shadowing passion without some instruction. It is not words that shake me thus. Pish! Noses, ears, and lips. --Is't possible?--Confess--handkerchief!--O devil!-- [Falls in a trance] IAGO Work on, My medicine, work! Thus credulous fools are caught; And many worthy and chaste dames even thus, All guiltless, meet reproach. What, ho! my lord! My lord, I say! Othello! [Enter CASSIO] How now, Cassio! CASSIO What's the matter? IAGO My lord is fall'n into an epilepsy: This is his second fit; he had one yesterday. CASSIO Rub him about the temples. IAGO No, forbear; The lethargy must have his quiet course: If not, he foams at mouth and by and by Breaks out to savage madness. Look he stirs: Do you withdraw yourself a little while, He will recover straight: when he is gone, I would on great occasion speak with you. [Exit CASSIO] How is it, general? have you not hurt your head? OTHELLO Dost thou mock me? IAGO I mock you! no, by heaven. Would you would bear your fortune like a man! OTHELLO A horned man's a monster and a beast. IAGO There's many a beast then in a populous city, And many a civil monster. OTHELLO Did he confess it? IAGO Good sir, be a man; Think every bearded fellow that's but yoked May draw with you: there's millions now alive That nightly lie in those unproper beds Which they dare swear peculiar: your case is better. O, 'tis the spite of hell, the fiend's arch-mock, To lip a wanton in a secure couch, And to suppose her chaste! No, let me know; And knowing what I am, I know what she shall be. OTHELLO O, thou art wise; 'tis certain. IAGO Stand you awhile apart; Confine yourself but in a patient list. 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. Do but encave yourself, And mark the fleers, the gibes, and notable scorns, That dwell in every region of his face; For I will make him tell the tale anew, Where, how, how oft, how long ago, and when He hath, and is again to cope your wife: I say, but mark his gesture. Marry, patience; Or I shall say you are all in all in spleen, And nothing of a man. OTHELLO Dost thou hear, Iago? I will be found most cunning in my patience; But--dost thou hear?--most bloody. IAGO That's not amiss; But yet keep time in all. Will you withdraw? [OTHELLO retires] Now will I question Cassio of Bianca, A housewife that by selling her desires Buys herself bread and clothes: it is a creature That dotes on Cassio; as 'tis the strumpet's plague To beguile many and be beguiled by one: He, when he hears of her, cannot refrain From the excess of laughter. Here he comes: [Re-enter CASSIO] 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. How do you now, lieutenant? CASSIO The worser that you give me the addition Whose want even kills me. IAGO Ply Desdemona well, and you are sure on't. [Speaking lower] Now, if this suit lay in Bianco's power, How quickly should you speed! CASSIO Alas, poor caitiff! OTHELLO Look, how he laughs already! IAGO I never knew woman love man so. CASSIO Alas, poor rogue! I think, i' faith, she loves me. OTHELLO Now he denies it faintly, and laughs it out. IAGO Do you hear, Cassio? OTHELLO Now he importunes him To tell it o'er: go to; well said, well said. IAGO She gives it out that you shall marry hey: Do you intend it? CASSIO Ha, ha, ha! OTHELLO Do you triumph, Roman? do you triumph? CASSIO I marry her! what? a customer! Prithee, bear some charity to my wit: do not think it so unwholesome. Ha, ha, ha! OTHELLO So, so, so, so: they laugh that win. IAGO 'Faith, the cry goes that you shall marry her. CASSIO Prithee, say true. IAGO I am a very villain else. OTHELLO Have you scored me? Well. CASSIO This is the monkey's own giving out: she is persuaded I will marry her, out of her own love and flattery, not out of my promise. OTHELLO Iago beckons me; now he begins the story. CASSIO She was here even now; she haunts me in every place. 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 Crying 'O dear Cassio!' as it were: his gesture imports it. CASSIO So hangs, and lolls, and weeps upon me; so hales, and pulls me: ha, ha, ha! OTHELLO Now he tells how she plucked him to my chamber. O, I see that nose of yours, but not that dog I shall throw it to. CASSIO Well, I must leave her company. IAGO Before me! look, where she comes. CASSIO 'Tis such another fitchew! marry a perfumed one. [Enter BIANCA] What do you mean by this haunting of me? BIANCA Let the devil and his dam haunt you! What did you mean by that same handkerchief you gave me even now? I was a fine fool to take it. 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 hobby-horse: wheresoever you had it, I'll take out no work on't. CASSIO How now, my sweet Bianca! how now! how now! OTHELLO By heaven, that should be my handkerchief! BIANCA An you'll come to supper to-night, you may; an you will not, come when you are next prepared for. [Exit] IAGO After her, after her. CASSIO 'Faith, I must; she'll rail in the street else. IAGO Will you sup there? CASSIO 'Faith, I intend so. IAGO Well, I may chance to see you; for I would very fain speak with you. CASSIO Prithee, come; will you? IAGO Go to; say no more. [Exit CASSIO] OTHELLO [Advancing] How shall I murder him, Iago? IAGO Did you perceive how he laughed at his vice? OTHELLO O Iago! IAGO And did you see the handkerchief? OTHELLO Was that mine? IAGO Yours by this hand: and to see how he prizes the foolish woman your wife! she gave it him, and he hath given it his whore. OTHELLO I would have him nine years a-killing. A fine woman! a fair woman! a sweet woman! IAGO Nay, you must forget that. OTHELLO Ay, let her rot, and perish, and be damned to-night; for she shall not live: no, my heart is turned to stone; I strike it, and it hurts my hand. O, the world hath not a sweeter creature: she might lie by an emperor's side and command him tasks. IAGO Nay, that's not your way. OTHELLO Hang her! I do but say what she is: so delicate with her needle: an admirable musician: O! she will sing the savageness out of a bear: of so high and plenteous wit and invention:-- IAGO She's the worse for all this. OTHELLO O, a thousand thousand times: and then, of so gentle a condition! IAGO Ay, too gentle. OTHELLO Nay, that's certain: but yet the pity of it, Iago! O Iago, the pity of it, Iago! IAGO If you are so fond over her iniquity, give her patent to offend; for, if it touch not you, it comes near nobody. OTHELLO I will chop her into messes: cuckold me! IAGO O, 'tis foul in her. OTHELLO With mine officer! IAGO That's fouler. OTHELLO Get me some poison, Iago; this night: I'll not expostulate with her, lest her body and beauty unprovide my mind again: this night, Iago. IAGO Do it not with poison, strangle her in her bed, even the bed she hath contaminated. OTHELLO Good, good: the justice of it pleases: very good. IAGO And for Cassio, let me be his undertaker: you shall hear more by midnight. OTHELLO Excellent good. [A trumpet within] What trumpet is that same? IAGO Something from Venice, sure. 'Tis Lodovico Come from the duke: and, see, your wife is with him. [Enter LODOVICO, DESDEMONA, and Attendants] LODOVICO Save you, worthy general! OTHELLO With all my heart, sir. LODOVICO The duke and senators of Venice greet you. [Gives him a letter] OTHELLO I kiss the instrument of their pleasures. [Opens the letter, and reads] DESDEMONA And what's the news, good cousin Lodovico? IAGO I am very glad to see you, signior Welcome to Cyprus. LODOVICO I thank you. How does Lieutenant Cassio? IAGO Lives, sir. DESDEMONA Cousin, there's fall'n between him and my lord An unkind breach: but you shall make all well. OTHELLO Are you sure of that? DESDEMONA My lord? OTHELLO [Reads] 'This fail you not to do, as you will--' LODOVICO He did not call; he's busy in the paper. Is there division 'twixt my lord and Cassio? DESDEMONA A most unhappy one: I would do much To atone them, for the love I bear to Cassio. OTHELLO Fire and brimstone! DESDEMONA My lord? OTHELLO Are you wise? DESDEMONA What, is he angry? LODOVICO May be the letter moved him; For, as I think, they do command him home, Deputing Cassio in his government. DESDEMONA Trust me, I am glad on't. OTHELLO Indeed! DESDEMONA My lord? OTHELLO I am glad to see you mad. DESDEMONA Why, sweet Othello,-- OTHELLO [Striking her] Devil! DESDEMONA I have not deserved this. LODOVICO My lord, this would not be believed in Venice, Though I should swear I saw't: 'tis very much: Make her amends; she weeps. OTHELLO O devil, devil! If that the earth could teem with woman's tears, Each drop she falls would prove a crocodile. Out of my sight! DESDEMONA I will not stay to offend you. [Going] LODOVICO Truly, an obedient lady: I do beseech your lordship, call her back. OTHELLO Mistress! DESDEMONA My lord? OTHELLO What would you with her, sir? LODOVICO Who, I, my lord? OTHELLO Ay; you did wish that I would make her turn: Sir, she can turn, and turn, and yet go on, And turn again; and she can weep, sir, weep; And she's obedient, as you say, obedient, Very obedient. Proceed you in your tears. Concerning this, sir,--O well-painted passion!-- I am commanded home. Get you away; I'll send for you anon. Sir, I obey the mandate, And will return to Venice. Hence, avaunt! [Exit DESDEMONA] Cassio shall have my place. And, sir, tonight, I do entreat that we may sup together: You are welcome, sir, to Cyprus.--Goats and monkeys! [Exit] LODOVICO Is this the noble Moor whom our full senate Call all in all sufficient? Is this the nature Whom passion could not shake? whose solid virtue The shot of accident, nor dart of chance, Could neither graze nor pierce? IAGO He is much changed. LODOVICO Are his wits safe? is he not light of brain? IAGO He's that he is: I may not breathe my censure What he might be: if what he might he is not, I would to heaven he were! LODOVICO What, strike his wife! IAGO 'Faith, that was not so well; yet would I knew That stroke would prove the worst! LODOVICO Is it his use? Or did the letters work upon his blood, And new-create this fault? IAGO Alas, alas! It is not honesty in me to speak What I have seen and known. You shall observe him, And his own courses will denote him so That I may save my speech: do but go after, And mark how he continues. LODOVICO I am sorry that I am deceived in him. [Exeunt] OTHELLO ACT IV SCENE II A room in the castle. [Enter OTHELLO and EMILIA] OTHELLO You have seen nothing then? EMILIA Nor ever heard, nor ever did suspect. OTHELLO Yes, you have seen Cassio and she together. EMILIA But then I saw no harm, and then I heard Each syllable that breath made up between them. OTHELLO What, did they never whisper? EMILIA Never, my lord. OTHELLO Nor send you out o' the way? EMILIA Never. OTHELLO To fetch her fan, her gloves, her mask, nor nothing? EMILIA Never, my lord. OTHELLO That's strange. EMILIA I durst, my lord, to wager she is honest, Lay down my soul at stake: if you think other, Remove your thought; it doth abuse your bosom. If any wretch have put this in your head, Let heaven requite it with the serpent's curse! For, if she be not honest, chaste, and true, There's no man happy; the purest of their wives Is foul as slander. OTHELLO Bid her come hither: go. [Exit EMILIA] She says enough; yet she's a simple bawd That cannot say as much. This is a subtle whore, A closet lock and key of villanous secrets And yet she'll kneel and pray; I have seen her do't. [Enter DESDEMONA with EMILIA] DESDEMONA My lord, what is your will? OTHELLO Pray, chuck, come hither. DESDEMONA What is your pleasure? OTHELLO Let me see your eyes; Look in my face. DESDEMONA What horrible fancy's this? OTHELLO [To EMILIA] Some of your function, mistress; Leave procreants alone and shut the door; Cough, or cry 'hem,' if any body come: Your mystery, your mystery: nay, dispatch. [Exit EMILIA] DESDEMONA Upon my knees, what doth your speech import? I understand a fury in your words. But not the words. OTHELLO Why, what art thou? DESDEMONA Your wife, my lord; your true And loyal wife. OTHELLO Come, swear it, damn thyself Lest, being like one of heaven, the devils themselves Should fear to seize thee: therefore be double damn'd: Swear thou art honest. DESDEMONA Heaven doth truly know it. OTHELLO Heaven truly knows that thou art false as hell. DESDEMONA To whom, my lord? with whom? how am I false? OTHELLO O Desdemona! away! away! away! DESDEMONA Alas the heavy day! Why do you weep? Am I the motive of these tears, my lord? If haply you my father do suspect An instrument of this your calling back, Lay not your blame on me: If you have lost him, Why, I have lost him too. OTHELLO Had it pleased heaven To try me with affliction; had they rain'd All kinds of sores and shames on my bare head. Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips, Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes, I should have found in some place of my soul A drop of patience: but, alas, to make me A fixed figure for the time of scorn To point his slow unmoving finger at! Yet could I bear that too; well, very well: But there, where I have garner'd up my heart, Where either I must live, or bear no life; The fountain from the which my current runs, Or else dries up; to be discarded thence! Or keep it as a cistern for foul toads To knot and gender in! Turn thy complexion there, Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'd cherubin,-- Ay, there, look grim as hell! DESDEMONA I hope my noble lord esteems me honest. OTHELLO O, ay; as summer flies are in the shambles, That quicken even with blowing. O thou weed, Who art so lovely fair and smell'st so sweet That the sense aches at thee, would thou hadst ne'er been born! DESDEMONA Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed? OTHELLO Was this fair paper, this most goodly book, Made to write 'whore' upon? What committed! Committed! O thou public commoner! I should make very forges of my cheeks, That would to cinders burn up modesty, Did I but speak thy deeds. What committed! Heaven stops the nose at it and the moon winks, The bawdy wind that kisses all it meets Is hush'd within the hollow mine of earth, And will not hear it. What committed! Impudent strumpet! DESDEMONA By heaven, you do me wrong. OTHELLO Are you not a strumpet? DESDEMONA No, as I am a Christian: If to preserve this vessel for my lord From any other foul unlawful touch Be not to be a strumpet, I am none. OTHELLO What, not a whore? DESDEMONA No, as I shall be saved. OTHELLO Is't possible? DESDEMONA O, heaven forgive us! OTHELLO I cry you mercy, then: I took you for that cunning whore of Venice That married with Othello. [Raising his voice] You, mistress, That have the office opposite to Saint Peter, And keep the gate of hell! [Re-enter EMILIA] You, you, ay, you! We have done our course; there's money for your pains: I pray you, turn the key and keep our counsel. [Exit] EMILIA Alas, what does this gentleman conceive? How do you, madam? how do you, my good lady? DESDEMONA 'Faith, half asleep. EMILIA Good madam, what's the matter with my lord? DESDEMONA With who? EMILIA Why, with my lord, madam. DESDEMONA Who is thy lord? EMILIA He that is yours, sweet lady. DESDEMONA I have none: do not talk to me, Emilia; I cannot weep; nor answer have I none, But what should go by water. Prithee, tonight Lay on my bed my wedding sheets: remember; And call thy husband hither. EMILIA Here's a change indeed! [Exit] DESDEMONA 'Tis meet I should be used so, very meet. How have I been behaved, that he might stick The small'st opinion on my least misuse? [Re-enter EMILIA with IAGO] IAGO What is your pleasure, madam? How is't with you? DESDEMONA I cannot tell. Those that do teach young babes Do it with gentle means and easy tasks: He might have chid me so; for, in good faith, I am a child to chiding. IAGO What's the matter, lady? EMILIA Alas, Iago, my lord hath so bewhored her. Thrown such despite and heavy terms upon her, As true hearts cannot bear. DESDEMONA Am I that name, Iago? IAGO What name, fair lady? DESDEMONA Such as she says my lord did say I was. EMILIA He call'd her whore: a beggar in his drink Could not have laid such terms upon his callat. IAGO Why did he so? DESDEMONA I do not know; I am sure I am none such. IAGO Do not weep, do not weep. Alas the day! EMILIA Hath she forsook so many noble matches, Her father and her country and her friends, To be call'd whore? would it not make one weep? DESDEMONA It is my wretched fortune. IAGO Beshrew him for't! How comes this trick upon him? DESDEMONA Nay, heaven doth know. EMILIA I will be hang'd, if some eternal villain, Some busy and insinuating rogue, Some cogging, cozening slave, to get some office, Have not devised this slander; I'll be hang'd else. IAGO Fie, there is no such man; it is impossible. DESDEMONA If any such there be, heaven pardon him! EMILIA A halter pardon him! and hell gnaw his bones! Why should he call her whore? who keeps her company? What place? what time? what form? what likelihood? The Moor's abused by some most villanous knave, Some base notorious knave, some scurvy fellow. O heaven, that such companions thou'ldst unfold, And put in every honest hand a whip To lash the rascals naked through the world Even from the east to the west! IAGO Speak within door. EMILIA 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. IAGO You are a fool; go to. DESDEMONA O good Iago, What shall I do to win my lord again? Good friend, go to him; for, by this light of heaven, I know not how I lost him. Here I kneel: If e'er my will did trespass 'gainst his love, Either in discourse of thought or actual deed, Or that mine eyes, mine ears, or any sense, Delighted them in any other form; Or that I do not yet, and ever did. And ever will--though he do shake me off To beggarly divorcement--love him dearly, Comfort forswear me! Unkindness may do much; And his unkindness may defeat my life, But never taint my love. I cannot say 'whore:' It does 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. IAGO I pray you, be content; 'tis but his humour: The business of the state does him offence, And he does chide with you. DESDEMONA If 'twere no other-- IAGO 'Tis but so, I warrant. [Trumpets within] Hark, how these instruments summon to supper! The messengers of Venice stay the meat; Go in, and weep not; all things shall be well. [Exeunt DESDEMONA and EMILIA] [Enter RODERIGO] How now, Roderigo! RODERIGO I do not find that thou dealest justly with me. IAGO What in the contrary? RODERIGO Every day thou daffest me with some device, Iago; and rather, as it seems to me now, keepest from me all conveniency than suppliest me with the least advantage of hope. I will indeed no longer endure it, nor am I yet persuaded to put up in peace what already I have foolishly suffered. IAGO Will you hear me, Roderigo? RODERIGO 'Faith, I have heard too much, for your words and performances are no kin together. IAGO You charge me most unjustly. RODERIGO With nought but truth. I have wasted myself out of my means. The jewels you have had from me to deliver to Desdemona would half have corrupted a votarist: you have told me she hath received them and returned me expectations and comforts of sudden respect and acquaintance, but I find none. IAGO Well; go to; very well. RODERIGO Very well! go to! I cannot go to, man; nor 'tis not very well: nay, I think it is scurvy, and begin to find myself fobbed in it. IAGO Very well. RODERIGO I tell you 'tis not very well. I will make myself known to Desdemona: if she will return me my jewels, I will give over my suit and repent my unlawful solicitation; if not, assure yourself I will seek satisfaction of you. IAGO You have said now. RODERIGO Ay, and said nothing but what I protest intendment of doing. IAGO Why, now I see there's mettle in thee, and even from this instant to build on thee a better opinion than ever before. Give me thy hand, Roderigo: thou hast taken against me a most just exception; but yet, I protest, I have dealt most directly in thy affair. RODERIGO It hath not appeared. IAGO I grant indeed it hath not appeared, and your suspicion is not without wit and judgment. But, Roderigo, if thou hast that in thee indeed, which I have greater reason to believe now than ever, I mean purpose, courage and valour, this night show it: if thou the next night following enjoy not Desdemona, take me from this world with treachery and devise engines for my life. RODERIGO Well, what is it? is it within reason and compass? IAGO Sir, there is especial commission come from Venice to depute Cassio in Othello's place. RODERIGO Is that true? why, then Othello and Desdemona return again to Venice. IAGO O, no; he goes into Mauritania and takes away with him the fair Desdemona, unless his abode be lingered here by some accident: wherein none can be so determinate as the removing of Cassio. RODERIGO How do you mean, removing of him? IAGO Why, by making him uncapable of Othello's place; knocking out his brains. RODERIGO And that you would have me to do? IAGO Ay, if you dare do yourself a profit and a right. He sups to-night with a harlotry, and thither will I go to him: he knows not yet of his horrorable fortune. If you will watch his going thence, which I will fashion to fall out between twelve and one, you may take him at your pleasure: I will be near to second your attempt, and he shall fall between us. Come, stand not amazed at it, but go along with me; I will show you such a necessity in his death that you shall think yourself bound to put it on him. It is now high suppertime, and the night grows to waste: about it. RODERIGO I will hear further reason for this. IAGO And you shall be satisfied. [Exeunt] OTHELLO ACT IV SCENE III Another room In the castle. [Enter OTHELLO, LODOVICO, DESDEMONA, EMILIA and Attendants] LODOVICO I do beseech you, sir, trouble yourself no further. OTHELLO O, pardon me: 'twill do me good to walk. LODOVICO Madam, good night; I humbly thank your ladyship. DESDEMONA Your honour is most welcome. OTHELLO Will you walk, sir? O,--Desdemona,-- DESDEMONA My lord? OTHELLO Get you to bed on the instant; I will be returned forthwith: dismiss your attendant there: look it be done. DESDEMONA I will, my lord. [Exeunt OTHELLO, LODOVICO, and Attendants] EMILIA How goes it now? he looks gentler than he did. DESDEMONA He says he will return incontinent: He hath commanded me to go to bed, And bade me to dismiss you. EMILIA Dismiss me! DESDEMONA It was his bidding: therefore, good Emilia,. Give me my nightly wearing, and adieu: We must not now displease him. EMILIA I would you had never seen him! DESDEMONA So would not I my love doth so approve him, That even his stubbornness, his cheques, his frowns-- Prithee, unpin me,--have grace and favour in them. EMILIA I have laid those sheets you bade me on the bed. DESDEMONA All's one. Good faith, how foolish are our minds! If I do die before thee prithee, shroud me In one of those same sheets. EMILIA Come, come you talk. DESDEMONA My mother had a maid call'd Barbara: She was in love, and he she loved proved mad And did forsake her: she had a song of 'willow;' An old thing 'twas, but it express'd her fortune, And she died singing it: that song to-night Will not go from my mind; I have much to do, But to go hang my head all at one side, And sing it like poor Barbara. Prithee, dispatch. EMILIA Shall I go fetch your night-gown? DESDEMONA No, unpin me here. This Lodovico is a proper man. EMILIA A very handsome man. DESDEMONA He speaks well. EMILIA I know a lady in Venice would have walked barefoot to Palestine for a touch of his nether lip. DESDEMONA [Singing] The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree, Sing all a green willow: Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee, Sing willow, willow, willow: The fresh streams ran by her, and murmur'd her moans; Sing willow, willow, willow; Her salt tears fell from her, and soften'd the stones; Lay by these:-- [Singing] Sing willow, willow, willow; Prithee, hie thee; he'll come anon:-- [Singing] Sing all a green willow must be my garland. Let nobody blame him; his scorn I approve,- Nay, that's not next.--Hark! who is't that knocks? EMILIA It's the wind. DESDEMONA [Singing] I call'd my love false love; but what said he then? Sing willow, willow, willow: If I court moe women, you'll couch with moe men! So, get thee gone; good night Ate eyes do itch; Doth that bode weeping? EMILIA 'Tis neither here nor there. DESDEMONA I have heard it said so. O, these men, these men! Dost thou in conscience think,--tell me, Emilia,-- That there be women do abuse their husbands In such gross kind? EMILIA There be some such, no question. DESDEMONA Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world? EMILIA Why, would not you? DESDEMONA No, by this heavenly light! EMILIA Nor I neither by this heavenly light; I might do't as well i' the dark. DESDEMONA Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world? EMILIA The world's a huge thing: it is a great price. For a small vice. DESDEMONA In troth, I think thou wouldst not. EMILIA In troth, I think I should; and undo't when I had done. Marry, I would not do such a thing for a joint-ring, nor for measures of lawn, nor for gowns, petticoats, nor caps, nor any petty exhibition; but for the whole world,--why, who would not make her husband a cuckold to make him a monarch? I should venture purgatory for't. DESDEMONA Beshrew me, if I would do such a wrong For the whole world. EMILIA Why the wrong is but a wrong i' the world: and having the world for your labour, tis a wrong in your own world, and you might quickly make it right. DESDEMONA I do not think there is any such woman. EMILIA Yes, a dozen; and as many to the vantage as would store the world they played for. But I do think it is their husbands' faults If wives do fall: say that they slack their duties, And pour our treasures into foreign laps, Or else break out in peevish jealousies, Throwing restraint upon us; or say they strike us, Or scant our former having in despite; Why, we have galls, and though we have some grace, Yet have we some revenge. Let husbands know Their wives have sense like them: they see and smell And have their palates both for sweet and sour, As husbands have. What is it that they do When they change us for others? Is it sport? I think it is: and doth affection breed it? I think it doth: is't frailty that thus errs? It is so too: 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. DESDEMONA Good night, good night: heaven me such uses send, Not to pick bad from bad, but by bad mend! [Exeunt] OTHELLO ACT V SCENE I Cyprus. A street. [Enter IAGO and RODERIGO] IAGO Here, stand behind this bulk; straight will he come: Wear thy good rapier bare, and put it home: Quick, quick; fear nothing; I'll be at thy elbow: It makes us, or it mars us; think on that, And fix most firm thy resolution. RODERIGO Be near at hand; I may miscarry in't. IAGO Here, at thy hand: be bold, and take thy stand. [Retires] RODERIGO I have no great devotion to the deed; And yet he hath given me satisfying reasons: 'Tis but a man gone. Forth, my sword: he dies. IAGO I have rubb'd this young quat almost to the sense, And he grows angry. Now, whether he kill Cassio, Or Cassio him, or each do kill the other, Every way makes my gain: live Roderigo, He calls me to a restitution large Of gold and jewels that I bobb'd from him, As gifts to Desdemona; It must not be: 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: No, he must die. But so: I hear him coming. [Enter CASSIO] RODERIGO I know his gait, 'tis he.--Villain, thou diest! [Makes a pass at CASSIO] CASSIO That thrust had been mine enemy indeed, But that my coat is better than thou know'st I will make proof of thine. [Draws, and wounds RODERIGO] RODERIGO O, I am slain! [IAGO from behind wounds CASSIO in the leg, and exit] CASSIO I am maim'd for ever. Help, ho! murder! murder! [Falls] [Enter OTHELLO] OTHELLO The voice of Cassio: Iago keeps his word. RODERIGO O, villain that I am! OTHELLO It is even so. CASSIO O, help, ho! light! a surgeon! OTHELLO 'Tis he:--O brave Iago, honest and just, That hast such noble sense of thy friend's wrong! Thou teachest me. Minion, your dear lies dead, And your unblest fate hies: strumpet, I come. Forth of my heart those charms, thine eyes, are blotted; Thy bed, lust-stain'd, shall with lust's blood be spotted. [Exit] [Enter LODOVICO and GRATIANO] CASSIO What, ho! no watch? no passage? murder! murder! GRATIANO 'Tis some mischance; the cry is very direful. CASSIO O, help! LODOVICO Hark! RODERIGO O wretched villain! LODOVICO Two or three groan: it is a heavy night: These may be counterfeits: let's think't unsafe To come in to the cry without more help. RODERIGO Nobody come? then shall I bleed to death. LODOVICO Hark! [Re-enter IAGO, with a light] GRATIANO Here's one comes in his shirt, with light and weapons. IAGO Who's there? whose noise is this that ones on murder? LODOVICO We do not know. IAGO Did not you hear a cry? CASSIO Here, here! for heaven's sake, help me! IAGO What's the matter? GRATIANO This is Othello's ancient, as I take it. LODOVICO The same indeed; a very valiant fellow. IAGO What are you here that cry so grievously? CASSIO Iago? O, I am spoil'd, undone by villains! Give me some help. IAGO O me, lieutenant! what villains have done this? CASSIO I think that one of them is hereabout, And cannot make away. IAGO O treacherous villains! What are you there? come in, and give some help. [To LODOVICO and GRATIANO] RODERIGO O, help me here! CASSIO That's one of them. IAGO O murderous slave! O villain! [Stabs RODERIGO] RODERIGO O damn'd Iago! O inhuman dog! IAGO Kill men i' the dark!--Where be these bloody thieves?-- How silent is this town!--Ho! murder! murder!-- What may you be? are you of good or evil? LODOVICO As you shall prove us, praise us. IAGO Signior Lodovico? LODOVICO He, sir. IAGO I cry you mercy. Here's Cassio hurt by villains. GRATIANO Cassio! IAGO How is't, brother! CASSIO My leg is cut in two. IAGO Marry, heaven forbid! Light, gentlemen; I'll bind it with my shirt. [Enter BIANCA] BIANCA What is the matter, ho? who is't that cried? IAGO Who is't that cried! BIANCA O my dear Cassio! my sweet Cassio! O Cassio, Cassio, Cassio! IAGO O notable strumpet! Cassio, may you suspect Who they should be that have thus many led you? CASSIO No. GRATIANO I am to find you thus: I have been to seek you. IAGO Lend me a garter. So. O, for a chair, To bear him easily hence! BIANCA Alas, he faints! O Cassio, Cassio, Cassio! IAGO Gentlemen all, I do suspect this trash To be a party in this injury. Patience awhile, good Cassio. Come, come; Lend me a light. Know we this face or no? Alas my friend and my dear countryman Roderigo! no:--yes, sure: O heaven! Roderigo. GRATIANO What, of Venice? IAGO Even he, sir; did you know him? GRATIANO Know him! ay. IAGO Signior Gratiano? I cry you gentle pardon; These bloody accidents must excuse my manners, That so neglected you. GRATIANO I am glad to see you. IAGO How do you, Cassio? O, a chair, a chair! GRATIANO Roderigo! IAGO He, he 'tis he. [A chair brought in] O, that's well said; the chair! GRATIANO Some good man bear him carefully from hence; I'll fetch the general's surgeon. [To BIANCA] For you, mistress, Save you your labour. He that lies slain here, Cassio, Was my dear friend: what malice was between you? CASSIO None in the world; nor do I know the man. IAGO [To BIANCA] What, look you pale? O, bear him out o' the air. [CASSIO and RODERIGO are borne off] Stay you, good gentlemen. Look you pale, mistress? Do you perceive the gastness of her eye? Nay, if you stare, we shall hear more anon. Behold her well; I pray you, look upon her: Do you see, gentlemen? nay, guiltiness will speak, Though tongues were out of use. [Enter EMILIA] EMILIA 'Las, what's the matter? what's the matter, husband? IAGO Cassio hath here been set on in the dark By Roderigo and fellows that are scaped: He's almost slain, and Roderigo dead. EMILIA Alas, good gentleman! alas, good Cassio! IAGO This is the fruit of whoring. Prithee, Emilia, Go know of Cassio where he supp'd to-night. [To BIANCA] What, do you shake at that? BIANCA He supp'd at my house; but I therefore shake not. IAGO O, did he so? I charge you, go with me. EMILIA Fie, fie upon thee, strumpet! BIANCA I am no strumpet; but of life as honest As you that thus abuse me. EMILIA As I! foh! fie upon thee! IAGO Kind gentlemen, let's go see poor Cassio dress'd. Come, mistress, you must tell's another tale. Emilia run you to the citadel, And tell my lord and lady what hath happ'd. Will you go on? I pray. [Aside] This is the night That either makes me or fordoes me quite. [Exeunt] OTHELLO ACT V SCENE II A bedchamber in the castle: DESDEMONA in bed asleep; a light burning. [Enter OTHELLO] OTHELLO It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul,-- Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars!-- It is the cause. Yet I'll not shed her blood; Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow, And smooth as monumental alabaster. Yet she must die, else she'll betray more men. Put out the light, and then put out the light: If I quench thee, thou flaming minister, I can again thy former light restore, Should I repent me: but once put out thy light, Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature, I know not where is that Promethean heat That can thy light relume. 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. [Kissing her] Ah 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. One more, and this the last: So sweet was ne'er so fatal. I must weep, But they are cruel tears: this sorrow's heavenly; It strikes where it doth love. She wakes. DESDEMONA Who's there? Othello? OTHELLO Ay. Desdemona. DESDEMONA Will you come to bed, my lord? OTHELLO Have you pray'd to-night, Desdemona? DESDEMONA Ay, my lord. OTHELLO If you bethink yourself of any crime Unreconciled as yet to heaven and grace, Solicit for it straight. DESDEMONA Alas, my lord, what do you mean by that? OTHELLO Well, do it, and be brief; I will walk by: I would not kill thy unprepared spirit; No; heaven forfend! I would not kill thy soul. DESDEMONA Talk you of killing? OTHELLO Ay, I do. DESDEMONA Then heaven Have mercy on me! OTHELLO Amen, with all my heart! DESDEMONA If you say so, I hope you will not kill me. OTHELLO Hum! DESDEMONA And yet I fear you; for you are fatal then When your eyes roll so: why I should fear I know not, Since guiltiness I know not; but yet I feel I fear. OTHELLO Think on thy sins. DESDEMONA They are loves I bear to you. OTHELLO Ay, and for that thou diest. DESDEMONA That death's unnatural that kills for loving. Alas, why gnaw you so your nether lip? Some bloody passion shakes your very frame: These are portents; but yet I hope, I hope, They do not point on me. OTHELLO Peace, and be still! DESDEMONA I will so. What's the matter? OTHELLO That handkerchief which I so loved and gave thee Thou gavest to Cassio. DESDEMONA No, by my life and soul! Send for the man, and ask him. OTHELLO Sweet soul, take heed, Take heed of perjury; thou art on thy deathbed. DESDEMONA Ay, but not yet to die. OTHELLO Yes, presently: Therefore confess thee freely of thy sin; For to deny each article with oath Cannot remove nor choke the strong conception That I do groan withal. Thou art to die. DESDEMONA Then Lord have mercy on me! OTHELLO I say, amen. DESDEMONA And have you mercy too! I never did Offend you in my life; never loved Cassio But with such general warranty of heaven As I might love: I never gave him token. OTHELLO By heaven, I saw my handkerchief in's hand. O perjured woman! thou dost stone my heart, And makest me call what I intend to do A murder, which I thought a sacrifice: I saw the handkerchief. DESDEMONA He found it then; I never gave it him: send for him hither; Let him confess a truth. OTHELLO He hath confess'd. DESDEMONA What, my lord? OTHELLO That he hath used thee. DESDEMONA How? unlawfully? OTHELLO Ay. DESDEMONA He will not say so. OTHELLO No, his mouth is stopp'd; Honest Iago hath ta'en order for't. DESDEMONA O! my fear interprets: what, is he dead? OTHELLO Had all his hairs been lives, my great revenge Had stomach for them all. DESDEMONA Alas! he is betray'd and I undone. OTHELLO Out, strumpet! weep'st thou for him to my face? DESDEMONA O, banish me, my lord, but kill me not! OTHELLO Down, strumpet! DESDEMONA Kill me to-morrow: let me live to-night! OTHELLO Nay, if you strive-- DESDEMONA But half an hour! OTHELLO Being done, there is no pause. DESDEMONA But while I say one prayer! OTHELLO It is too late. [He stifles her] EMILIA [Within] My lord, my lord! what, ho! my lord, my lord! OTHELLO 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: So, so. EMILIA [Within] What, ho! my lord, my lord! OTHELLO Who's there? EMILIA [Within] O, good my lord, I would speak a word with you! OTHELLO Yes: 'tis Emilia. By and by. She's dead. 'Tis like she comes to speak of Cassio's death.-- The noise was here. Ha! no more moving? Still as the grave. Shall she come in? were't good?-- I think she stirs again:--no. What's best to do? If she come in, she'll sure speak to my wife: My wife! my wife! what wife? I have no wife. O insupportable! O heavy hour! Methinks it should be now a huge eclipse Of sun and moon, and that the affrighted globe Should yawn at alteration. EMILIA [Within] I do beseech you That I may speak with you, O, good my lord! OTHELLO I had forgot thee: O, come in, Emilia; Soft; by and by. Let me the curtains draw. Where art thou? [Unlocks the door] [Enter EMILIA] What's the matter with thee now? EMILIA O, my good lord, yonder's foul murders done! OTHELLO What, now? EMILIA But now, my lord. OTHELLO It is the very error of the moon; She comes more nearer earth than she was wont, And makes men mad. EMILIA Cassio, my lord, hath kill'd a young Venetian Call'd Roderigo. OTHELLO Roderigo kill'd! And Cassio kill'd! EMILIA No, Cassio is not kill'd. OTHELLO Not Cassio kill'd! then murder's out of tune, And sweet revenge grows harsh. DESDEMONA O, falsely, falsely murder'd! EMILIA Alas, what cry is that? OTHELLO That! what? EMILIA Out, and alas! that was my lady's voice. Help! help, ho! help! O lady, speak again! Sweet Desdemona! O sweet mistress, speak! DESDEMONA A guiltless death I die. EMILIA O, who hath done this deed? DESDEMONA Nobody; I myself. Farewell Commend me to my kind lord: O, farewell! [Dies] OTHELLO Why, how should she be murder'd? EMILIA Alas, who knows? OTHELLO You heard her say herself, it was not I. EMILIA She said so: I must needs report the truth. OTHELLO She's, like a liar, gone to burning hell: 'Twas I that kill'd her. EMILIA O, the more angel she, And you the blacker devil! OTHELLO She turn'd to folly, and she was a whore. EMILIA Thou dost belie her, and thou art a devil. OTHELLO She was false as water. EMILIA Thou art rash as fire, to say That she was false: O, she was heavenly true! OTHELLO Cassio did top her; ask thy husband else. O, I were damn'd beneath all depth in hell, But that I did proceed upon just grounds To this extremity. Thy husband knew it all. EMILIA My husband! OTHELLO Thy husband. EMILIA That she was false to wedlock? OTHELLO Ay, with Cassio. Nay, had she been true, If heaven would make me such another world Of one entire and Perfect chrysolite, I'ld not have sold her for it. EMILIA My husband! OTHELLO Ay, 'twas he that told me first: An honest man he is, and hates the slime That sticks on filthy deeds. EMILIA My husband! OTHELLO What needs this iteration, woman? I say thy husband. EMILIA O mistress, villany hath made mocks with love, My husband say that she was false! OTHELLO He, woman; I say thy husband: dost understand the word? My friend, thy husband, honest, honest Iago. EMILIA If he say so, may his pernicious soul Rot half a grain a day! he lies to the heart: She was too fond of her most filthy bargain. OTHELLO Ha! EMILIA Do thy worst: This deed of thine is no more worthy heaven Than thou wast worthy her. OTHELLO Peace, you were best. EMILIA Thou hast not half that power to do me harm As I have to be hurt. O gull! O dolt! As ignorant as dirt! thou hast done a deed-- I care not for thy sword; I'll make thee known, Though I lost twenty lives.--Help! help, ho! help! The Moor hath kill'd my mistress! Murder! murder! [Enter MONTANO, GRATIANO, IAGO, and others] MONTANO What is the matter? How now, general! EMILIA O, are you come, Iago? you have done well, That men must lay their murders on your neck. GRATIANO What is the matter? EMILIA Disprove this villain, if thou be'st a man: He says thou told'st him that his wife was false: I know thou didst not, thou'rt not such a villain: Speak, for my heart is full. IAGO I told him what I thought, and told no more Than what he found himself was apt and true. EMILIA But did you ever tell him she was false? IAGO I did. EMILIA You told a lie, an odious, damned lie; Upon my soul, a lie, a wicked lie. She false with Cassio!--did you say with Cassio? IAGO With Cassio, mistress. Go to, charm your tongue. EMILIA I will not charm my tongue; I am bound to speak: My mistress here lies murder'd in her bed,-- All O heavens forfend! EMILIA And your reports have set the murder on. OTHELLO Nay, stare not, masters: it is true, indeed. GRATIANO 'Tis a strange truth. MONTANO O monstrous act! EMILIA Villany, villany, villany! I think upon't, I think: I smell't: O villany!-- I thought so then:--I'll kill myself for grief:-- O villany, villany! IAGO What, are you mad? I charge you, get you home. EMILIA Good gentlemen, let me have leave to speak: 'Tis proper I obey him, but not now. Perchance, Iago, I will ne'er go home. OTHELLO O! O! O! [He falls on the bed] EMILIA Nay, lay thee down and roar; For thou hast kill'd the sweetest innocent That e'er did lift up eye. OTHELLO [Rising] O, she was foul! I scarce did know you, uncle: there lies your niece, Whose breath, indeed, these hands have newly stopp'd: I know this act shows horrible and grim. GRATIANO Poor Desdemona! I am glad thy father's dead: Thy match was mortal to him, and pure grief Shore his old thread in twain: did he live now, This sight would make him do a desperate turn, Yea, curse his better angel from his side, And fall to reprobation. OTHELLO 'Tis pitiful; but yet Iago knows That she with Cassio hath the act of shame A thousand times committed; Cassio confess'd it: And she did gratify his amorous works With that recognizance and pledge of love Which I first gave her; I saw it in his hand: It was a handkerchief, an antique token My father gave my mother. EMILIA O heaven! O heavenly powers! IAGO Come, hold your peace. EMILIA 'Twill out, 'twill out: I peace! No, I will speak as liberal as the north: Let heaven and men and devils, let them all, All, all, cry shame against me, yet I'll speak. IAGO Be wise, and get you home. EMILIA I will not. [IAGO offers to stab EMILIA] GRATIANO Fie! Your sword upon a woman? EMILIA O thou dull Moor! that handkerchief thou speak'st of I found by fortune and did give my husband; For often, with a solemn earnestness, More than indeed belong'd to such a trifle, He begg'd of me to steal it. IAGO Villanous whore! EMILIA She give it Cassio! no, alas! I found it, And I did give't my husband. IAGO Filth, thou liest! EMILIA By heaven, I do not, I do not, gentlemen. O murderous coxcomb! what should such a fool Do with so good a woman? OTHELLO Are there no stones in heaven But what serve for the thunder?--Precious villain! [He runs at IAGO IAGO, from behind, stabs EMILIA, and exit] GRATIANO The woman falls; sure, he hath kill'd his wife. EMILIA Ay, ay: O, lay me by my mistress' side. GRATIANO He's gone, but his wife's kill'd. MONTANO 'Tis a notorious villain. Take you this weapon, Which I have here recover'd from the Moor: Come, guard the door without; let him not pass, But kill him rather. I'll after that same villain, For 'tis a damned slave. [Exeunt MONTANO and GRATIANO] OTHELLO I am not valiant neither, But ever puny whipster gets my sword: But why should honour outlive honesty? Let it go all. EMILIA What did thy song bode, lady? Hark, canst thou hear me? I will play the swan. And die in music. [Singing] Willow, willow, willow,-- Moor, she was chaste; she loved thee, cruel Moor; So come my soul to bliss, as I speak true; So speaking as I think, I die, I die. [Dies] OTHELLO I have another weapon in this chamber; It is a sword of Spain, the ice-brook's temper:-- O, here it is. Uncle, I must come forth. GRATIANO [Within] If thou attempt it, it will cost thee dear: Thou hast no weapon, and perforce must suffer. OTHELLO Look in upon me then and speak with me, Or, naked as I am, I will assault thee. [Re-enter GRATIANO] GRATIANO What is the matter? OTHELLO Behold, I have a weapon; A better never did itself sustain Upon a soldier's thigh: I have seen the day, That, with this little arm and this good sword, I have made my way through more impediments Than twenty times your stop: but, O vain boast! Who can control his fate? 'tis not so now. Be not afraid, though you do see me weapon'd; Here is my journey's end, here is my butt, And very sea-mark of my utmost sail. Do you go back dismay'd? 'tis a lost fear; Man but a rush against Othello's breast, And he retires. Where should Othello go? Now, how dost thou look now? O ill-starr'd wench! Pale as thy smock! when we shall meet at compt, This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven, And fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my girl! Even like thy chastity. O cursed slave! Whip me, ye devils, From the possession of this heavenly sight! Blow me about in winds! roast me in sulphur! Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire! O Desdemona! Desdemona! dead! Oh! Oh! Oh! [Enter LODOVICO. MONTANO, CASSIO carried in a chair, and Officers with IAGO, prisoner] LODOVICO Where is this rash and most unfortunate man? OTHELLO That's he that was Othello: here I am. LODOVICO Where is that viper? bring the villain forth. OTHELLO I look down towards his feet; but that's a fable. If that thou best a devil, I cannot kill thee. [Wounds IAGO] LODOVICO Wrench his sword from him. IAGO I bleed, sir; but not kill'd. OTHELLO I am not sorry neither: I'ld have thee live; For, in my sense, 'tis happiness to die. LODOVICO O thou Othello, thou wert once so good, Fall'n in the practise of a damned slave, What shall be said to thee? OTHELLO Why, any thing: An honourable murderer, if you will; For nought I did in hate, but all in honour. LODOVICO This wretch hath part confess'd his villany: Did you and he consent in Cassio's death? OTHELLO Ay. CASSIO Dear general, I never gave you cause. OTHELLO I do believe it, and I ask your pardon. Will you, I pray, demand that demi-devil Why he hath thus ensnared my soul and body? IAGO Demand me nothing: what you know, you know: From this time forth I never will speak word. LODOVICO What, not to pray? GRATIANO Torments will ope your lips. OTHELLO Well, thou dost best. LODOVICO Sir, you shall understand what hath befall'n, Which, as I think, you know not. Here is a letter Found in the pocket of the slain Roderigo; And here another: the one of them imports The death of Cassio to be undertook By Roderigo. OTHELLO O villain! CASSIO Most heathenish and most gross! LODOVICO Now here's another discontented paper, Found in his pocket too; and this, it seems, Roderigo meant to have sent this damned villain; But that belike Iago in the interim Came in and satisfied him. OTHELLO O the pernicious caitiff! How came you, Cassio, by that handkerchief That was my wife's? CASSIO I found it in my chamber: And he himself confess'd but even now That there he dropp'd it for a special purpose Which wrought to his desire. OTHELLO O fool! fool! fool! CASSIO There is besides in Roderigo's letter, How he upbraids Iago, that he made him Brave me upon the watch; whereon it came That I was cast: and even but now he spake, After long seeming dead, Iago hurt him, Iago set him on. LODOVICO You must forsake this room, and go with us: Your power and your command is taken off, And Cassio rules in Cyprus. For this slave, If there be any cunning cruelty That can torment him much and hold him long, It shall be his. You shall close prisoner rest, Till that the nature of your fault be known To the Venetian state. Come, bring him away. OTHELLO Soft you; a word or two before you go. I have done the state some service, and they know't. No more of that. I pray you, in your letters, When you shall these unlucky deeds relate, Speak of me as I am; nothing extenuate, Nor set down aught in malice: 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. Set you down this; And say besides, that in Aleppo once, Where a malignant and a turban'd Turk Beat a Venetian and traduced the state, I took by the throat the circumcised dog, And smote him, thus. [Stabs himself] LODOVICO O bloody period! GRATIANO All that's spoke is marr'd. OTHELLO I kiss'd thee ere I kill'd thee: no way but this; Killing myself, to die upon a kiss. [Falls on the bed, and dies] CASSIO This did I fear, but thought he had no weapon; For he was great of heart. LODOVICO [To IAGO] O Spartan dog, More fell than anguish, hunger, or the sea! Look on the tragic loading of this bed; This is thy work: the object poisons sight; Let it be hid. 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: O, enforce it! Myself will straight aboard: and to the state This heavy act with heavy heart relate. [Exeunt] TIMON OF ATHENS DRAMATIS PERSONAE TIMON of Athens. LUCIUS | | LUCULLUS | flattering lords. | SEMPRONIUS | VENTIDIUS one of Timon's false friends. ALCIBIADES an Athenian captain. APEMANTUS a churlish philosopher. FLAVIUS steward to Timon. Poet, Painter, Jeweller, and Merchant. (Poet:) (Painter:) (Jeweller:) (Merchant:) An old Athenian. (Old Athenian:) FLAMINIUS | | LUCILIUS | servants to Timon. | SERVILIUS | CAPHIS | | PHILOTUS | | TITUS | | servants to Timon's creditors. LUCIUS | | HORTENSIUS | | And others | A Page. (Page:) A Fool. (Fool:) Three Strangers. (First Stranger:) (Second Stranger:) (Third Stranger:) PHRYNIA | | mistresses to Alcibiades. TIMANDRA | Cupid and Amazons in the mask. (Cupid:) Other Lords, Senators, Officers, Soldiers, Banditti, and Attendants. (First Lord:) (Second Lord:) (Third Lord:) (Fourth Lord:) (Senator:) (First Senator:) (Second Senator:) (Third Senator:) (Soldier:) (First Bandit:) (Second Bandit:) (Third Bandit:) (Messenger:) (Servant:) (First Servant:) (Second Servant:) (Third Servant:) (Varro's First Servant:) (Varro's Second Servant:) (Lucilius' Servant:) SCENE Athens, and the neighbouring woods.