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The First Folio [35 Plays]
by William Shakespeare
July, 2000 [Etext #2270]
Project Gutenberg's Etext of Shakespeare's First Folio/35 Plays
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Project Gutenberg's Etext of Shakespeare's First Folio/35 Plays
Executive Director's Notes:
In addition to the notes below, and so you will *NOT* think all the spelling errors introduced by the printers of the time have been corrected, here are the first few lines of Hamlet, as they are presented herein:
Barnardo. Who's there?
Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & vnfold
your selfe
Bar. Long liue the King
***
As I understand it, the printers often ran out of certain words or letters they had often packed into a "cliche". . .this is the original meaning of the term cliche. . .and thus, being unwilling to unpack the cliches, and thus you will see some substitutions that look very odd. . .such as the exchanges of u for v, v for u, above. . .and you may wonder why they did it this way, presuming Shakespeare did not actually write the play in this manner. . . .
The answer is that they MAY have packed "liue" into a cliche at a time when they were out of "v"'s. . .possibly having used "vv" in place of some "w"'s, etc. This was a common practice of the day, as print was still quite expensive, and they didn't want to spend more on a wider selection of characters than they had to.
You will find a lot of these kinds of "errors" in this text, as I have mentioned in other times and places, many "scholars" have an extreme attachment to these errors, and many have accorded them a very high place in the "canon" of Shakespeare. My father read an assortment of these made available to him by Cambridge University in England for several months in a glass room constructed for the purpose. To the best of my knowledge he read ALL those available . . .in great detail. . .and determined from the various changes, that Shakespeare most likely did not write in nearly as many of a variety of errors we credit him for, even though he was in/famous for signing his name with several different spellings.
So, please take this into account when reading the comments below made by our volunteer who prepared this file: you may see errors that are "not" errors. . . .
So. . .with this caveat. . .we have NOT changed the canon errors, here is the Project Gutenberg Etext of Shakespeare's First Folio.
Michael S. Hart
Project Gutenberg
Executive Director
***
Scanner's Notes: What this is and isn't. This is a copy of
Shakespeare's first folio and it is as close as I can come in
ASCII to the printed text.
The play Pericles, Prince of Tyre is missing from this edition of the First Folio because it wasn't printed in the First Folio. The Sonnets and other poems of Shakespeare are also missing because they also were not printed in the First Folio.
The elongated S's have been changed to small s's and the conjoined ae have been changed to ae. I have left the spelling, punctuation, capitalization as close as possible to the printed text. I have corrected some spelling mistakes (I have put together a spelling dictionary devised from the spellings of the Geneva Bible and Shakespeare's First Folio and have unified spellings according to this template), typo's and expanded abbreviations as I have come across them. Everything within brackets [] is what I have added. So if you don't like that you can delete everything within the brackets if you want a purer Shakespeare.
Another thing that you should be aware of is that there are textual differences between various copies of the first folio. So there may be differences (other than what I have mentioned above) between this and other first folio editions. This is due to the printer's habit of setting the type and running off a number of copies and then proofing the printed copy and correcting the type and then continuing the printing run. The proof run wasn't thrown away but incorporated into the printed copies. This is just the way it is. The text I have used was a composite of more than 30 different First Folio editions' best pages.
If you find any scanning errors, out and out typos, punctuation errors, or if you disagree with my spelling choices please feel free to email me those errors. I wish to make this the best etext possible. My email address for right now are haradda@aol.com and davidr@inconnect.com. I hope that you enjoy this.
David Reed
Project Gutenberg's Etext of Shakespeare's First Folio/35 Plays
To the Reader.
This Figure, that thou here feest put,
It was for gentle Shakespeare cut:
Wherein the Grauer had a strife
with Naure, to out-doo the life:
O, could he but haue dravvne his vvit
As vvell in frasse, as he hath hit
Hisface; the Print vvould then surpasse
All, that vvas euer in frasse.
But, since he cannot, Reader, looke
Not on his picture, but his Booke.
B.I.
MR. William
SHAKESPEARES
Comedies,
Histories &
Tragedies,
Published according to the True Original Copies
London
Printed by Ifaac Iaggard, and Ed, Bount. 1623
TO THE MOST NOBLE AND INCOMPARABLE PAIRE OF BRETHREN
WILLIAM
Earle of Pembroke,&c;. Lord Chamberlaine to the
Kings most Excellent Majesty.
A N D
PHILIP
Earle of Montgomery,&c;. Gentleman of his Majesties
Bed-Chamber. Both Knights of the most Noble Order
of the Garter, and our singular good
L O R D S
Right Honourable,
Whilst we studie to be thankful in our particular, for the many favors we have received from your L.L. we are falne upon the ill fortune, to mingle two the most diverse things that can bee, feare, and rashnesse; rashnesse in the enterprize, and feare of the successe. For, when we valew the places your H.H. sustaine, we cannot but know their dignity greater, then to descend to the reading of these trifles: and, while we name them trifles, we have depriv'd our selves of the defence of our Dedication. But since your L.L. have beene pleas'd to thinke these trifles some-thing, heeretofore; and have prosequuted both them, and their Authour living, with so much favour: we hope, that (they out-living him, and he not having the fate, common with some, to be exequutor to his owne writings) you will use the like indulgence toward them, you have done unto their parent. There is a great difference, whether any Booke choose his Patrones, or finde them: This hath done both. For, so much were your L.L. likings of the severall parts, when they were acted, as before they were published, the Volume ask'd to be yours. We have but collected them, and done an office to the dead, to procure his Orphanes, Guardians; without ambition either of selfe-profit, or fame: onely to keepe the memory of so worthy a Friend, & Fellow alive, as was our S H A K E S P E A R E , by humble offer of his playes, to your most noble patronage. Wherein, as we have justly observed, no man to come neere your L.L. but with a kind of religious addresse; it hath bin the height of our care, who are the Presenters, to make the present worthy of your H.H. by the perfection. But, there we must also crave our abilities to be considerd, my Lords. We cannot go beyond our owne powers. Country hands reach foorth milke, creame, fruites, or what they have : and many Nations (we have heard) that had not gummes & incense, obtained their requests with a leavened Cake. It was no fault to approach their Gods, by what meanes they could: And the most, though meanest, of thins are made more precious, when they are dedicated to Temples. In that name therefore, we most humbly consecrate to your H.H. these remaines of your servant Shakespeare; that what delight is in them, may be ever your L.L. the reputation his, & the faults ours, if any be committed, by a payre so carefull to shew their gratitude both to the living, and the dead, as is.
Your Lordshippes most bounden,
JOHN HEMINGE. HENRY CONDELL.
To the great Variety of Readers.
From the most able, to him that can but spell : There you are number'd. We had rather you were weighd. Especially, when the fate of all Bookes depends upon your capacities : and not of your heads alone, but of your purses. Well ! It is now publique, & you wil stand for your priviledges wee know : to read, and censure. Do so, but buy it first. That doth best commend a Booke, the Stationer saies. Then, how odde soever your braines be, or your wisedomes, make your licence the same, and spare not. Judge your six-pen'orth, your shillings worth, your five shillings worth at a time, or higher, so you rise to the just rates, and welcome. But, whatever you do, Buy. Censure will not drive a Trade, or make the Jacke go. And though you be a Magistrate of wit, and sit on the Stage at Black-Friers, or the Cock-pit, to arraigne Playes dailie, know, these Playes have had their triall alreadie, and stood out all Appeales ; and do now come forth quitted rather by a Decree of Court, then any purchas'd Letters of commendation.
It had bene a thing, we confesse, worthie to have bene wished, that the Author himselfe had liv'd to have set forth, and overseen his owne writings ; But since it hath bin ordain'd otherwise, and he by death departed from that right, we pray you do not envie his Friends, the office of their care, and paine, to have collected & publish'd them; and so to have publish'd them, as where (before) you were abus'd with diverse stolne, and surreptitious copies, maimed, and deformed by the frauds and stealthes of injurious impostors, that expos'd them : even those, are now offer'd to your view cur'd, and perfect of their limbes; and all the rest, absolute in their numbers, as he conceived the'. Who, as he was a happie imitator of Nature, was a most gentle expresser of it. His mind and hand went together: And what he thought, he uttered with that easinesse, that wee have scarse received from him a blot in his papers. But it is not our province, who onely gather his works, and give them you, to praise him. It is yours that reade him. And there we hope, to your divers capacities, you will finde enough, both to draw, and hold you : for his wit can no more lie hid, then it could be lost. Reade him, therefore; and againe, and againe : And if then you doe not like him, surely you are in some manifest danger, not to understand him. And so we leave you to other of his Friends, whom if you need, can bee your guides : if you neede them not, you can leade your selves, and others. And such Readers we wish him.
John Heminge.
Henrie Condell.
A CATALOGVE
of the Seuerall Comedies, Historie, and Tragedies
contained in this Volume
COMEDIES.
The Tempest.
The Two Gentlemen of Verona.
The Merry Wives of Windsor.
Measure for Measure.
The Comedy of Errours.
Much adoo about Nothing
Loves Labour lost.
Midsommer Nights Dreame.
The Merchant of Venice.
As you Like it.
The Taming of the Shrew.
All is well, that Ends well.
Twelfe-Night, or what you will.
The Winters Tale.
HISTORIES.
The Life and Death of King John.
The Life & death of Richard the second.
The First part of King Henry the fourth.
The Second part of K. Henry the fourth.
The Life of King Henry the Fift.
The First part of King Henry the Sixt.
The Second part of King Hen. the Sixt.
The Third part of King Henry the Sixt.
The Life and Death of Richard the Third
The Life of King Henry the Eight.
TRAGEDIES.
The Tragedy of Coriolanus.
Titus Andronicus.
Romeo and Juliet.
Timon of Athens.
The Life and death of Julius Caesar.
The Tragedy of Macbeth.
The Tragedy of Hamlet.
King Lear.
Othello, the Moore of Venice.
Anthony and Cleopater.
Cymbeline King of Britaine.
To the memory of my beloved,
The Author
MR. W I L L I A M S H A K E S P E A R E :
A N D
what he hath left us.
To draw no envy (Shakespeare) on thy name,
Am I thus ample to thy Booke, and Fame;
While I confesse thy writings to be such,
As neither Man, nor Muse, can praise too much.
'Tis true, and all men's suffrage. But these wayes
Were not the paths I meant unto thy praise;
For seeliest Ignorance on these may light,
Which, when it sounds at best, but eccho's right;
Or blinde Affection, which doth ne're advance
The truth, but gropes, and urgeth all by chance;
Or crafty Malice, might pretend this praise,
And thine to ruine, where it seem'd to raise.
These are, as some infamous Baud, or Whore,
Should praise a Matron. What could hurt her more?
But thou art proofe against them, and indeed
Above th' ill fortune of them, or the need.
I, therefore will begin. Soule of the Age !
The applause ! delight ! the wonder of our Stage !
My Shakespeare, rise; I will not lodge thee by
Chaucer, or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lye
A little further, to make thee a roome :
Thou art a Moniment, without a tombe,
And art alive still, while thy Booke doth live,
And we have wits to read, and praise to give.
That I not mixe thee so, my braine excuses ;
I meane with great, but disproportion'd Muses :
For, if I thought my judgement were of yeeres,
I should commit thee surely with thy peeres,
And tell, how farre thou dist our Lily out-shine,
Or sporting Kid or Marlowes mighty line.
And though thou hadst small Latine, and lesse Greeke,
From thence to honour thee, I would not seeke
For names; but call forth thund'ring schilus,
Euripides, and Sophocles to vs,
Paccuvius, Accius, him of Cordova dead,
To life againe, to heare thy Buskin tread,
And shake a stage : Or, when thy sockes were on,
Leave thee alone, for the comparison
Of all, that insolent Greece, or haughtie Rome
Sent forth, or since did from their ashes come.
Triumph, my Britaine, thou hast one to showe,
To whom all scenes of Europe homage owe.
He was not of an age, but for all time !
And all the Muses still were in their prime,
When like Apollo he came forth to warme
Our eares, or like a Mercury to charme !
Nature her selfe was proud of his designes,
And joy'd to weare the dressing of his lines !
Which were so richly spun, and woven so fit,
As, since, she will vouchsafe no other Wit.
The merry Greeke, tart Aristophanes,
Neat Terence, witty Plautus, now not
please;But antiquated, and deserted lye
As they were not of Natures family.
Yet must I not give Nature all: Thy Art,
My gentle Shakespeare, must enjoy a part;
For though the Poets matter, Nature be,
His Art doth give the fashion. And, that he,
Who casts to write a living line, must sweat,
(Such as thine are) and strike the second heat
Upon the Muses anvile : turne the same,
(And himselfe with it) that he thinkes to frame;
Or for the lawrell, he may gaine a scorne,
For a good Poet's made, as well as borne.
And such wert thou. Looke how the fathers face
Lives in his issue, even so, the race
Of Shakespeares minde, and manners brightly shines
In his well toned, and true-filed lines :
In each of which, he seemes to shake a Lance,
As brandish't at the eyes of Ignorance.
Sweet swan of Avon! what a fight it were
To see thee in our waters yet appeare,
And make those flights upon the bankes of Thames,
That so did take Eliza, and our James !
But stay, I see thee in the Hemisphere
Advanc'd, and made a Constellation there !
Shine forth, thou Starre of Poets, and with rage,
Or influence, chide, or cheere the drooping Stage;
Which, since thy flight fro' hence, hath mourn'd like night,
And despaires day, but for thy Volumes light.
B E N: J O N S O N.
Upon the Lines and Life of the Famous
Scenicke Poet, Master W I L L I A M
S H A K E S P E A R E
Those hands, which you so clapt, go now, and wring
You Britaines brave; for done are Shakespeares dayes :
His dayes are done, that made the dainty Playes,
Which made the Globe of heav'n and earth to ring.
Dry'de is that veine, dry'd is the Thespian Spring,
Turn'd all to teares, and Phoebus clouds his rayes :
That corp's, that coffin now besticke those bayes,
Which crown'd him Poet first, then Poets King.
If Tragedies might any Prologue have,
All those he made, would scarse make a one to this :
Where Fame, now that he gone is to the grave
(Deaths publique tyring-house) the Nuncius is,
For though his line of life went soone about,
The life yet of his lines shall never out.
H U G H H O L L A N D.
TO THE MEMORIE
of the deceased Authour Maister
W. S H A K E S P E A R E.
Shake-speare, at length thy pious fellowes give
The world thy Workes : thy Workes, by which, out-live
Thy Tombe, thy name must when that stone is rent,
And Time dissolves thy Stratford Moniment,
Here we alive shall view thee still. This Booke,
When Brasse and Marble fade, shall make thee looke
Fresh to all Ages: when Posteritie
Shall loath what's new, thinke all is prodegie
That is not Shake-speares; ev'ry Line, each Verse
Here shall revive, redeeme thee from thy Herse.
Nor Fire, nor cankring Age, as Naso said,
Of his, thy wit-fraught Booke shall once invade.
Nor shall I e're beleeve, or thinke thee dead.
(Though mist) untill our bankrout Stage be sped
(Imposible) with some new straine t'out-do
Passions of Juliet, and her Romeo ;
Or till I heare a Scene more nobly take,
Then when thy half-Sword parlying Romans spake.
Till these, till any of thy Volumes rest
Shall with more fire, more feeling be exprest,
Be sure, our Shake-speare, thou canst never dye,
But crown'd with Lawrell, live eternally.
L. Digges.
To the memorie of M.W.Shakes-speare.
WEE wondred (Shake-speare) that thou went'st so soone
From the Worlds-Stage, to the Graves-Tyring-roome.
Wee thought thee dead, but this thy printed worth,
Tels thy Spectators, that thou went'st but forth
To enter with applause. An Actors Art,
Can dye, and live, to acte a second part.
That's but an Exit of Mortalitie;
This, a Re-entrance to a Plaudite.
J. M.
The Workes of William Shakespeare,
containing all his Comedies, Histories, and
Tragedies: Truely set forth, according to their first
O R I G I N A L L
The Names of the Principall Actorsin all these Playes.
William Shakespeare.
Richard Burbadge.
John Hemmings.
Augustine Phillips.
William Kempt.
Thomas Poope.
George Bryan.
Henry Condell.
William Slye.
Richard Cowly.
John Lowine.
Samuell Crosse.
Alexander Cooke.
Samuel Gilburne.
Robert Armin.
William Ostler.
Nathan Field.
John Underwood.
Nicholas Tooley.
William Ecclestone.
Joseph Taylor.
Robert Benfield.
Robert Goughe.
Richard Robinson.
John Shancke.
John Rice.
The Tempest
Actus primus, Scena prima.
A tempestuous noise of Thunder and Lightning heard: Enter a Ship-master, and a Boteswaine.
Master. Bote-swaine.
Botes. Heere Master: What cheere?
Mast. Good: Speake to th' Mariners: fall too't, yarely, or we run our selues a ground, bestirre, bestirre.
Enter.
Enter Mariners.
Botes. Heigh my hearts, cheerely, cheerely my harts: yare, yare: Take in the toppe-sale: Tend to th' Masters whistle: Blow till thou burst thy winde, if roome enough.
Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Anthonio, Ferdinando, Gonzalo, and others.
Alon. Good Boteswaine haue care: where's the Master?
Play the men.
Botes. I pray now keepe below.
Anth. Where is the Master, Boson?
Botes. Do you not heare him? you marre our labour,
Keepe your Cabines: you do assist the storme.
Gonz. Nay, good be patient.
Botes. When the Sea is: hence, what cares these roarers for the name of King? to Cabine; silence: trouble vs not.
Gon. Good, yet remember whom thou hast aboord.
Botes. None that I more loue then my selfe. You are a Counsellor, if you can command these Elements to silence, and worke the peace of the present, wee will not hand a rope more, vse your authoritie: If you cannot, giue thankes you haue liu'd so long, and make your selfe readie in your Cabine for the mischance of the houre, if it so hap. Cheerely good hearts: out of our way I say.
Enter.
Gon. I haue great comfort from this fellow: methinks he hath no drowning marke vpon him, his complexion is perfect Gallowes: stand fast good Fate to his hanging, make the rope of his destiny our cable, for our owne doth little aduantage: If he be not borne to bee hang'd, our case is miserable.
Enter.
Enter Boteswaine
Botes. Downe with the top-Mast: yare, lower, lower, bring her to Try with Maine-course. A plague -
A cry within. Enter Sebastian, Anthonio & Gonzalo.
vpon this howling: they are lowder then the weather, or our office: yet againe? What do you heere? Shal we giue ore and drowne, haue you a minde to sinke?
Sebas. A poxe o'your throat, you bawling, blasphemous
incharitable Dog.
Botes. Worke you then.
Anth. Hang cur, hang, you whoreson insolent Noyse-maker,
we are lesse afraid to be drownde, then thou art.
Gonz. I'le warrant him for drowning, though the Ship were no stronger then a Nutt-shell, and as leaky as an vnstanched wench.
Botes. Lay her a hold, a hold, set her two courses off
to Sea againe, lay her off.
Enter Mariners wet.
Mari. All lost, to prayers, to prayers, all lost.
Botes. What must our mouths be cold?
Gonz. The King, and Prince, at prayers, let's assist them, for our case is as theirs
Sebas. I'am out of patience
An. We are meerly cheated of our liues by drunkards, This wide-chopt-rascall, would thou mightst lye drowning the washing of ten Tides
Gonz. Hee'l be hang'd yet,
Though euery drop of water sweare against it,
And gape at widst to glut him.
A confused noyse within.
Mercy on vs.
We split, we split, Farewell my wife, and children,
Farewell brother: we split, we split, we split
Anth. Let's all sinke with' King
Seb. Let's take leaue of him.
Enter.
Gonz. Now would I giue a thousand furlongs of Sea, for an Acre of barren ground: Long heath, Browne firrs, any thing; the wills aboue be done, but I would faine dye a dry death.
Enter.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Prospero and Miranda.
Mira. If by your Art (my deerest father) you haue
Put the wild waters in this Rore; alay them:
The skye it seemes would powre down stinking pitch,
But that the Sea, mounting to th' welkins cheeke,
Dashes the fire out. Oh! I haue suffered
With those that I saw suffer: A braue vessell
(Who had no doubt some noble creature in her)
Dash'd all to peeces: O the cry did knocke
Against my very heart: poore soules, they perish'd.
Had I byn any God of power, I would
Haue suncke the Sea within the Earth, or ere
It should the good Ship so haue swallow'd, and
The fraughting Soules within her
Pros. Be collected, No more amazement: Tell your pitteous heart there's no harme done
Mira. O woe, the day
Pros. No harme:
I haue done nothing, but in care of thee
(Of thee my deere one; thee my daughter) who
Art ignorant of what thou art. naught knowing
Of whence I am: nor that I am more better
Then Prospero, Master of a full poore cell,
And thy no greater Father
Mira. More to know
Did neuer medle with my thoughts
Pros. 'Tis time
I should informe thee farther: Lend thy hand
And plucke my Magick garment from me: So,
Lye there my Art: wipe thou thine eyes, haue comfort,
The direfull spectacle of the wracke which touch'd
The very vertue of compassion in thee:
I haue with such prouision in mine Art
So safely ordered, that there is no soule
No not so much perdition as an hayre
Betid to any creature in the vessell
Which thou heardst cry, which thou saw'st sinke: Sit downe,
For thou must now know farther
Mira. You haue often
Begun to tell me what I am, but stopt
And left me to a bootelesse Inquisition,
Concluding, stay: not yet
Pros. The howr's now come
The very minute byds thee ope thine eare,
Obey, and be attentiue. Canst thou remember
A time before we came vnto this Cell?
I doe not thinke thou canst, for then thou was't not
Out three yeeres old
Mira. Certainely Sir, I can
Pros. By what? by any other house, or person?
Of any thing the Image, tell me, that
Hath kept with thy remembrance
Mira. 'Tis farre off:
And rather like a dreame, then an assurance
That my remembrance warrants: Had I not
Fowre, or fiue women once, that tended me?
Pros. Thou hadst; and more Miranda: But how is it
That this liues in thy minde? What seest thou els
In the dark-backward and Abisme of Time?
Yf thou remembrest ought ere thou cam'st here,
How thou cam'st here thou maist
Mira. But that I doe not
Pros. Twelue yere since (Miranda) twelue yere since,
Thy father was the Duke of Millaine and
A Prince of power:
Mira. Sir, are not you my Father?
Pros. Thy Mother was a peece of vertue, and
She said thou wast my daughter; and thy father
Was Duke of Millaine, and his onely heire,
And Princesse; no worse Issued
Mira. O the heauens,
What fowle play had we, that we came from thence?
Or blessed was't we did?
Pros. Both, both my Girle.
By fowle-play (as thou saist) were we heau'd thence,
But blessedly holpe hither
Mira. O my heart bleedes
To thinke oth' teene that I haue turn'd you to,
Which is from my remembrance, please you, farther;
Pros. My brother and thy vncle, call'd Anthonio:
I pray thee marke me, that a brother should
Be so perfidious: he, whom next thy selfe
Of all the world I lou'd, and to him put
The mannage 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 liberall Artes,
Without a paralell; those being all my studie,
The Gouernment I cast vpon my brother,
And to my State grew stranger, being transported
And rapt in secret studies, thy false vncle
(Do'st thou attend me?)
Mira. Sir, most heedefully
Pros. Being once perfected how to graunt suites,
how to deny them: who t' aduance, and who
To trash for ouer-topping; new created
The creatures that were mine, I say, or chang'd 'em,
Or els new form'd 'em; hauing both the key,
Of Officer, and office, set all hearts i'th state
To what tune pleas'd his eare, that now he was
The Iuy which had hid my princely Trunck,
And suckt my verdure out on't: Thou attend'st not?
Mira. O good Sir, I doe
Pros. I pray thee marke me:
I thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated
To closenes, and the bettering of my mind
with that, which but by being so retir'd
Ore-priz'd all popular rate: in my false brother
Awak'd an euill nature, and my trust
Like a good parent, did beget of him
A falsehood in it's contrarie, as great
As my trust was, which had indeede no limit,
A confidence sans bound. He being thus Lorded,
Not onely with what my reuenew yeelded,
But what my power might els exact. Like one
Who hauing into truth, by telling of it,
Made such a synner of his memorie
To credite his owne lie, he did beleeue
He was indeed the Duke, out o'th' Substitution
And executing th' outward face of Roialtie
With all prerogatiue: hence his Ambition growing:
Do'st thou heare ?
Mira. Your tale, Sir, would cure deafenesse
Pros. To haue no Schreene between this part he plaid,
And him he plaid it for, he needes will be
Absolute Millaine, Me (poore man) my Librarie
Was Dukedome large enough: of temporall roalties
He thinks me now incapable. Confederates
(so drie he was for Sway) with King of Naples
To giue him Annuall tribute, doe him homage
Subiect his Coronet, to his Crowne and bend
The Dukedom yet vnbow'd (alas poore Millaine)
To most ignoble stooping
Mira. Oh the heauens:
Pros. Marke his condition, and th' euent, then tell me
If this might be a brother
Mira. I should sinne
To thinke but Noblie of my Grand-mother,
Good wombes haue borne bad sonnes
Pro. Now the Condition.
This King of Naples being an Enemy
To me inueterate, hearkens my Brothers suit,
Which was, That he in lieu o'th' premises,
Of homage, and I know not how much Tribute,
Should presently extirpate me and mine
Out of the Dukedome, and confer faire Millaine
With all the Honors, on my brother: Whereon
A treacherous Armie leuied, one mid-night
Fated to th' purpose, did Anthonio open
The gates of Millaine, and ith' dead of darkenesse
The ministers for th' purpose hurried thence
Me, and thy crying selfe
Mir. Alack, for pitty:
I not remembring how I cride out then
Will cry it ore againe: it is a hint
That wrings mine eyes too't
Pro. Heare a little further,
And then I'le bring thee to the present businesse
Which now's vpon's: without the which, this Story
Were most impertinent
Mir. Wherefore did they not
That howre destroy vs?
Pro. Well demanded, wench:
My Tale prouokes that question: Deare, they durst not,
So deare the loue my people bore me: nor set
A marke so bloudy on the businesse; but
With colours fairer, painted their foule ends.
In few, they hurried vs aboord a Barke,
Bore vs some Leagues to Sea, where they prepared
A rotten carkasse of a Butt, not rigg'd,
Nor tackle, sayle, nor mast, the very rats
Instinctiuely haue quit it: There they hoyst vs
To cry to th' Sea, that roard to vs; to sigh
To th' windes, whose pitty sighing backe againe
Did vs but louing wrong
Mir. Alack, what trouble
Was I then to you?
Pro. O, a Cherubin
Thou was't that did preserue me; Thou didst smile,
Infused with a fortitude from heauen,
When I haue deck'd the sea with drops full salt,
Vnder my burthen groan'd, which rais'd in me
An vndergoing stomacke, to beare vp
Against what should ensue
Mir. How came we a shore?
Pro. By prouidence diuine,
Some food, we had, and some fresh water, that
A noble Neopolitan Gonzalo
Out of his Charity, (who being then appointed
Master of this designe) did giue vs, with
Rich garments, linnens, stuffs, and necessaries
Which since haue steeded much, so of his gentlenesse
Knowing I lou'd my bookes, he furnishd me
From mine owne Library, with volumes, that
I prize aboue my Dukedome
Mir. Would I might
But euer see that man
Pro. Now I arise,
Sit still, and heare the last of our sea-sorrow:
Heere in this Iland we arriu'd, and heere
Haue I, thy Schoolemaster, made thee more profit
Then other Princesse can, that haue more time
For vainer howres; and Tutors, not so carefull
Mir. Heuens thank you for't. And now I pray you Sir,
For still 'tis beating in my minde; your reason
For raysing this Sea-storme?
Pro. Know thus far forth,
By accident most strange, bountifull Fortune
(Now my deere Lady) hath mine enemies
Brought to this shore: And by my prescience
I finde my Zenith doth depend vpon
A most auspitious starre, whose influence
If now I court not, but omit; my fortunes
Will euer after droope: Heare cease more questions,
Thou art inclinde to sleepe: 'tis a good dulnesse,
And giue it way: I know thou canst not chuse:
Come away, Seruant, come; I am ready now,
Approach my Ariel. Come.
Enter Ariel.
Ari. All haile, great Master, graue Sir, haile: I come
To answer thy best pleasure; be't to fly,
To swim, to diue into the fire: to ride
On the curld clowds: to thy strong bidding, taske
Ariel, and all his Qualitie
Pro. Hast thou, Spirit,
Performd to point, the Tempest that I bad thee
Ar. To euery Article.
I boorded the Kings ship: now on the Beake,
Now in the Waste, the Decke, in euery Cabyn,
I flam'd amazement, sometime I'ld diuide
And burne in many places; on the Top-mast,
The Yards and Bore-spritt, would I flame distinctly,
Then meete, and ioyne. Ioues Lightning, the precursers
O'th dreadfull Thunder-claps more momentarie
And sight out-running were not; the fire, and cracks
Of sulphurous roaring, the most mighty Neptune
Seeme to besiege, and make his bold waues tremble,
Yea, his dread Trident shake
Pro. My braue Spirit,
Who was so firme, so constant, that this coyle
Would not infect his reason?
Ar. Not a soule
But felt a Feauer of the madde, and plaid
Some tricks of desperation; all but Mariners
Plung'd in the foaming bryne, and quit the vessell;
Then all a fire with me the Kings sonne Ferdinand
With haire vp-staring (then like reeds, not haire)
Was the first man that leapt; cride hell is empty,
And all the Diuels are heere
Pro. Why that's my spirit:
But was not this nye shore?
Ar. Close by, my Master
Pro. But are they (Ariell) safe?
Ar. Not a haire perishd:
On their sustaining garments not a blemish,
But fresher then before: and as thou badst me,
In troops I haue dispersd them 'bout the Isle:
The Kings sonne haue I landed by himselfe,
Whom I left cooling of the Ayre with sighes,
In an odde Angle of the Isle, and sitting
His armes in this sad knot
Pro. Of the Kings ship,
The Marriners, say how thou hast disposd,
And all the rest o'th' Fleete?
Ar. Safely in harbour
Is the Kings shippe, in the deepe Nooke, where once
Thou calldst me vp at midnight to fetch dewe
From the still-vext Bermoothes, there she's hid;
The Marriners all vnder hatches stowed,
Who, with a Charme ioynd to their suffred labour
I haue left asleep: and for the rest o'th' Fleet
(Which I dispers'd) they all haue met againe,
And are vpon the Mediterranian Flote
Bound sadly home for Naples,
Supposing that they saw the Kings ship wrackt,
And his great person perish
Pro. Ariel, thy charge
Exactly is perform'd; but there's more worke:
What is the time o'th' day?
Ar. Past the mid season
Pro. At least two Glasses: the time 'twixt six & now
Must by vs both be spent most preciously
Ar. Is there more toyle? Since y dost giue me pains,
Let me remember thee what thou hast promis'd,
Which is not yet perform'd me
Pro. How now? moodie?
What is't thou canst demand?
Ar. My Libertie
Pro. Before the time be out? no more:
Ar. I prethee,
Remember I haue done thee worthy seruice,
Told thee no lyes, made thee no mistakings, serv'd
Without or grudge, or grumblings; thou did promise
To bate me a full yeere
Pro. Do'st thou forget
From what a torment I did free thee?
Ar. No
Pro. Thou do'st: & thinkst it much to tread y Ooze
Of the salt deepe;
To run vpon the sharpe winde of the North,
To doe me businesse in the veines o'th' earth
When it is bak'd with frost
Ar. I doe not Sir
Pro. Thou liest, malignant Thing: hast thou forgot
The fowle Witch Sycorax, who with Age and Enuy
Was growne into a hoope? hast thou forgot her?
Ar. No Sir
Pro. Thou hast: where was she born? speak: tell me:
Ar. Sir, in Argier
Pro. Oh, was she so: I must
Once in a moneth recount what thou hast bin,
Which thou forgetst. This damn'd Witch Sycorax
For mischiefes manifold, and sorceries terrible
To enter humane hearing, from Argier
Thou know'st was banish'd: for one thing she did
They wold not take her life: Is not this true?
Ar. I, Sir
Pro. This blew ey'd hag, was hither brought with child,
And here was left by th' Saylors; thou my slaue,
As thou reportst thy selfe, was then her seruant,
And for thou wast a Spirit too delicate
To act her earthy, and abhord commands,
Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee
By helpe of her more potent Ministers,
And in her most vnmittigable rage,
Into a clouen Pyne, within which rift
Imprison'd, thou didst painefully remaine
A dozen yeeres: within which space she di'd,
And left thee there: where thou didst vent thy groanes
As fast as Mill-wheeles strike: Then was this Island
(Saue for the Son, that he did littour heere,
A frekelld whelpe, hag-borne) not honour'd with
A humane shape
Ar. Yes: Caliban her sonne
Pro. Dull thing, I say so: he, that Caliban
Whom now I keepe in seruice, thou best know'st
What torment I did finde thee in; thy grones
Did make wolues howle, and penetrate the breasts
Of euer-angry Beares; it was a torment
To lay vpon the damn'd, which Sycorax
Could not againe vndoe: it was mine Art,
When I arriu'd, and heard thee, that made gape
The Pyne, and let thee out
Ar. I thanke thee Master
Pro. If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an Oake
And peg-thee in his knotty entrailes, till
Thou hast howl'd away twelue winters
Ar. Pardon, Master,
I will be correspondent to command
And doe my spryting, gently
Pro. Doe so: and after two daies
I will discharge thee
Ar. That's my noble Master:
What shall I doe? say what? what shall I doe?
Pro. Goe make thy selfe like a Nymph o'th' Sea,
Be subiect to no sight but thine, and mine: inuisible
To euery eye-ball else: goe take this shape
And hither come in't: goe: hence
With diligence.
Enter.
Pro. Awake, deere hart awake, thou hast slept well,
Awake
Mir. The strangenes of your story, put
Heauinesse in me
Pro. Shake it off: Come on,
Wee'll visit Caliban, my slaue, who neuer
Yeelds vs kinde answere
Mir. 'Tis a villaine Sir, I doe not loue to looke on
Pro. But as 'tis
We cannot misse him: he do's make our fire,
Fetch in our wood, and serues in Offices
That profit vs: What hoa: slaue: Caliban:
Thou Earth, thou: speake
Cal. within. There's wood enough within
Pro. Come forth I say, there's other busines for thee:
Come thou Tortoys, when?
Enter Ariel like a water Nymph.
Fine apparision: my queint Ariel,
Hearke in thine eare
Ar. My Lord, it shall be done.
Enter.
Pro. Thou poysonous slaue, got by y diuell himselfe
Vpon thy wicked Dam; come forth.
Enter Caliban.
Cal. As wicked dewe, as ere my mother brush'd
With Rauens feather from vnwholesome Fen
Drop on you both: A Southwest blow on yee,
And blister you all ore
Pro. For this be sure, to night thou shalt haue cramps,
Side-stitches, that shall pen thy breath vp, Vrchins
Shall for that vast of night, that they may worke
All exercise on thee: thou shalt be pinch'd
As thicke as hony-combe, each pinch more stinging
Then Bees that made 'em
Cal. I must eat my dinner:
This Island's mine by Sycorax my mother,
Which thou tak'st from me: when thou cam'st first
Thou stroakst me, & made much of me: wouldst giue me
Water with berries in't: and teach me how
To name the bigger Light, and how the lesse
That burne by day, and night: and then I lou'd thee
And shew'd thee all the qualities o'th' Isle,
The fresh Springs, Brine-pits; barren place and fertill,
Curs'd be I that did so: All the Charmes
Of Sycorax: Toades, Beetles, Batts light on you:
For I am all the Subiects that you haue,
Which first was min owne King: and here you sty-me
In this hard Rocke, whiles you doe keepe from me
The rest o'th' Island
Pro. Thou most lying slaue,
Whom stripes may moue, not kindnes: I haue vs'd thee
(Filth as thou art) with humane care, and lodg'd thee
In mine owne Cell, till thou didst seeke to violate
The honor of my childe
Cal. Oh ho, oh ho, would't had bene done:
Thou didst preuent me, I had peopel'd else
This Isle with Calibans
Mira. Abhorred Slaue,
Which any print of goodnesse wilt not take,
Being capable of all ill: I pittied thee,
Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each houre
One thing or other: when thou didst not (Sauage)
Know thine owne meaning; but wouldst gabble, like
A thing most brutish, I endow'd thy purposes
With words that made them knowne: But thy vild race
(Tho thou didst learn) had that in't, which good natures
Could not abide to be with; therefore wast thou
Deseruedly confin'd into this Rocke, who hadst
Deseru'd more then a prison
Cal. 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
Pros. Hag-seed, hence:
Fetch vs in Fewell, and be quicke thou'rt best
To answer other businesse: shrug'st thou (Malice)
If thou neglectst, or dost vnwillingly
What I command, Ile racke thee with old Crampes,
Fill all thy bones with Aches, make thee rore,
That beasts shall tremble at thy dyn
Cal. No, 'pray thee.
I must obey, his Art is of such pow'r,
It would controll my Dams god Setebos,
And make a vassaile of him
Pro. So slaue, hence.
Exit Cal.
Enter Ferdinand & Ariel, inuisible playing & singing.
Ariel Song. Come vnto these yellow sands, and then
take hands:
Curtsied when you haue, and kist the wilde waues whist:
Foote it featly heere, and there, and sweete Sprights beare
the burthen.
Burthen dispersedly.
Harke, harke, bowgh wawgh: the watch-Dogges barke, bowgh-wawgh
Ar. Hark, hark, I heare, the straine of strutting Chanticlere
cry cockadidle-dowe
Fer. Where shold this Musick be? I'th aire, or th' earth?
It sounds no more: and sure it waytes vpon
Some God o'th' Iland, sitting on a banke,
Weeping againe the King my Fathers wracke.
This Musicke crept by me vpon the waters,
Allaying both their fury, and my passion
With it's sweet ayre: thence I haue follow'd it
(Or it hath drawne me rather) but 'tis gone.
No, it begins againe
Ariell Song. Full fadom fiue thy Father lies,
Of his bones are Corrall made:
Those are pearles that were his eies,
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a Sea-change
Into something rich, & strange:
Sea-Nimphs hourly ring his knell.
Burthen: ding dong.
Harke now I heare them, ding-dong bell
Fer. The Ditty do's remember my drown'd father,
This is no mortall busines, nor no sound
That the earth owes: I heare it now aboue me
Pro. The fringed Curtaines of thine eye aduance,
And say what thou see'st yond
Mira. What is't a Spirit?
Lord, how it lookes about: Beleeue me sir,
It carries a braue forme. But 'tis a spirit
Pro. No wench, it eats, and sleeps, & hath such senses
As we haue: such. This Gallant which thou seest
Was in the wracke: and but hee's something stain'd
With greefe (that's beauties canker) y might'st call him
A goodly person: he hath lost his fellowes,
And strayes about to finde 'em
Mir. I might call him
A thing diuine, for nothing naturall
I euer saw so Noble
Pro. It goes on I see
As my soule prompts it: Spirit, fine spirit, Ile free thee
Within two dayes for this
Fer. Most sure the Goddesse
On whom these ayres attend: Vouchsafe my pray'r
May know if you remaine vpon this Island,
And that you will some good instruction giue
How I may beare me heere: my prime request
(Which I do last pronounce) is (O you wonder)
If you be Mayd, or no?
Mir. No wonder Sir,
But certainly a Mayd
Fer. My Language? Heauens:
I am the best of them that speake this speech,
Were I but where 'tis spoken
Pro. How? the best?
What wer't thou if the King of Naples heard thee?
Fer. A single thing, as I am now, that wonders
To heare thee speake of Naples: he do's heare me,
And that he do's, I weepe: my selfe am Naples,
Who, with mine eyes (neuer since at ebbe) beheld
The King my Father wrack't
Mir. Alacke, for mercy
Fer. Yes faith, & all his Lords, the Duke of Millaine
And his braue sonne, being twaine
Pro. The Duke of Millaine
And his more brauer daughter, could controll thee
If now 'twere fit to do't: At the first sight
They haue chang'd eyes: Delicate Ariel,
Ile set thee free for this. A word good Sir,
I feare you haue done your selfe some wrong: A word
Mir. Why speakes my father so vngently? This
Is the third man that ere I saw: the first
That ere I sigh'd for: pitty moue my father
To be enclin'd my way
Fer. O, if a Virgin,
And your affection not gone forth, Ile make you
The Queene of Naples
Pro. Soft sir, one word more.
They are both in eythers pow'rs: But this swift busines
I must vneasie make, least too light winning
Make the prize light. One word more: I charge thee
That thou attend me: Thou do'st heere vsurpe
The name thou ow'st not, and hast put thy selfe
Vpon this Island, as a spy, to win it
From me, the Lord on't
Fer. No, as I am a man
Mir. Ther's nothing ill, can dwell in such a Temple,
If the ill-spirit haue so fayre a house,
Good things will striue to dwell with't
Pro. Follow me
Pros. Speake not you for him: hee's a Traitor: come,
Ile manacle thy necke and feete together:
Sea water shalt thou drinke: thy food shall be
The fresh-brooke Mussels, wither'd roots, and huskes
Wherein the Acorne cradled. Follow
Fer. No,
I will resist such entertainment, till
Mine enemy ha's more pow'r.
He drawes, and is charmed from mouing.
Mira. O deere Father,
Make not too rash a triall of him, for
Hee's gentle, and not fearfull
Pros. What I say,
My foote my Tutor? Put thy sword vp Traitor,
Who mak'st a shew, but dar'st not strike: thy conscience
Is so possest with guilt: Come, from thy ward,
For I can heere disarme thee with this sticke,
And make thy weapon drop
Mira. Beseech you Father
Pros. Hence: hang not on my garments
Mira. Sir haue pity,
Ile be his surety
Pros. Silence: One word more
Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee: What,
An aduocate for an Impostor? Hush:
Thou think'st there is no more such shapes as he,
(Hauing seene but him and Caliban:) Foolish wench,
To th' most of men, this is a Caliban,
And they to him are Angels
Mira. My affections
Are then most humble: I haue no ambition
To see a goodlier man
Pros. Come on, obey:
Thy Nerues are in their infancy againe.
And haue no vigour in them
Fer. So they are:
My spirits, as in a dreame, are all bound vp:
My Fathers losse, the weaknesse which I feele,
The wracke of all my friends, nor this mans threats,
To whom I am subdude, are but light to me,
Might I but through my prison once a day
Behold this Mayd: all corners else o'th' Earth
Let liberty make vse of: space enough
Haue I in such a prison
Pros. It workes: Come on.
Thou hast done well, fine Ariell: follow me,
Harke what thou else shalt do mee
Mira. Be of comfort,
My Fathers of a better nature (Sir)
Then he appeares by speech: this is vnwonted
Which now came from him
Pros. Thou shalt be as free
As mountaine windes; but then exactly do
All points of my command
Ariell. To th' syllable
Pros. Come follow: speake not for him.
Exeunt.
Actus Secundus. Scoena Prima.
Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Anthonio, Gonzalo, Adrian, Francisco, and others.
Gonz. Beseech you Sir, be merry; you haue cause,
(So haue we all) of ioy; for our escape
Is much beyond our losse; our hint of woe
Is common, euery day, some Saylors wife,
The Masters of some Merchant, and the Merchant
Haue iust our Theame of woe: But for the miracle,
(I meane our preseruation) few in millions
Can speake like vs: then wisely (good Sir) weigh
Our sorrow, with our comfort
Alons. Prethee peace
Seb. He receiues comfort like cold porredge
Ant. The Visitor will not giue him ore so
Seb. Looke, hee's winding vp the watch of his wit,
By and by it will strike
Gon. Sir
Seb. One: Tell
Gon. When euery greefe is entertaind,
That's offer'd comes to th' entertainer
Seb. A dollor
Gon. Dolour comes to him indeed, you haue spoken
truer then you purpos'd
Seb. You haue taken it wiselier then I meant you
should
Gon. Therefore my Lord
Ant. Fie, what a spend-thrift is he of his tongue
Alon. I pre-thee spare
Gon. Well, I haue done: But yet
Seb. He will be talking
Ant. Which, of he, or Adrian, for a good wager,
First begins to crow?
Seb. The old Cocke
Ant. The Cockrell
Seb. Done: The wager?
Ant. A Laughter
Seb. A match
Adr. Though this Island seeme to be desert
Seb. Ha, ha, ha
Ant. So: you'r paid
Adr. Vninhabitable, and almost inaccessible
Seb. Yet
Adr. Yet
Ant. He could not misse't
Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate temperance
Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench
Seb. I, and a subtle, as he most learnedly deliuer'd
Adr. The ayre breathes vpon vs here most sweetly
Seb. As if it had Lungs, and rotten ones
Ant. Or, as 'twere perfum'd by a Fen
Gon. Heere is euery thing aduantageous to life
Ant. True, saue meanes to liue
Seb. Of that there's none, or little
Gon. How lush and lusty the grasse lookes?
How greene?
Ant. The ground indeed is tawny
Seb. With an eye of greene in't
Ant. He misses not much
Seb. No: he doth but mistake the truth totally
Gon. But the rariety of it is, which is indeed almost beyond credit
Seb. As many voucht rarieties are
Gon. That our Garments being (as they were) drencht in the Sea, hold notwithstanding their freshnesse and glosses, being rather new dy'de then stain'd with salte water
Ant. If but one of his pockets could speake, would
it not say he lyes?
Seb. I, or very falsely pocket vp his report
Gon. Me thinkes our garments are now as fresh as when we put them on first in Affricke, at the marriage of the kings faire daughter Claribel to the king of Tunis
Seb. 'Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in
our returne
Adri. Tunis was neuer grac'd before with such a Paragon
to their Queene
Gon. Not since widdow Dido's time
Ant. Widow? A pox o'that: how came that Widdow
in? Widdow Dido!
Seb. What if he had said Widdower aeneas too?
Good Lord, how you take it?
Adri. Widdow Dido said you? You make me study
of that: She was of Carthage, not of Tunis
Gon. This Tunis Sir was Carthage
Adri. Carthage?
Gon. I assure you Carthage
Ant. His word is more then the miraculous Harpe
Seb. He hath rais'd the wall, and houses too
Ant. What impossible matter wil he make easy next?
Seb. I thinke hee will carry this Island home in his
pocket, and giue it his sonne for an Apple
Ant. And sowing the kernels of it in the Sea, bring
forth more Islands
Gon. I
Ant. Why in good time
Gon. Sir, we were talking, that our garments seeme now as fresh as when we were at Tunis at the marriage of your daughter, who is now Queene
Ant. And the rarest that ere came there
Seb. Bate (I beseech you) widdow Dido
Ant. O Widdow Dido? I, Widdow Dido
Gon. Is not Sir my doublet as fresh as the first day I wore it? I meane in a sort
Ant. That sort was well fish'd for
Gon. When I wore it at your daughters marriage
Alon. You cram these words into mine eares, against
the stomacke of my sense: would I had neuer
Married my daughter there: For comming thence
My sonne is lost, and (in my rate) she too,
Who is so farre from Italy remoued,
I ne're againe shall see her: O thou mine heire
Of Naples and of Millaine, what strange fish
Hath made his meale on thee?
Fran. Sir he may liue,
I saw him beate the surges vnder him,
And ride vpon their backes; he trod the water
Whose enmity he flung aside: and brested
The surge most swolne that met him: his bold head
'Boue the contentious waues he kept, and oared
Himselfe with his good armes in lusty stroke
To th' shore; that ore his waue-worne basis bowed
As stooping to releeue him: I not doubt
He came aliue to Land
Alon. No, no, hee's gone
Seb. Sir you may thank your selfe for this great losse,
That would not blesse our Europe with your daughter,
But rather loose her to an Affrican,
Where she at least, is banish'd from your eye,
Who hath cause to wet the greefe on't
Alon. Pre-thee peace
Seb. You were kneel'd too, & importun'd otherwise
By all of vs: and the faire soule her selfe
Waigh'd betweene loathnesse, and obedience, at
Which end o'th' beame should bow: we haue lost your son,
I feare for euer: Millaine and Naples haue
Mo widdowes in them of this businesse making,
Then we bring men to comfort them:
The faults your owne
Alon. So is the deer'st oth' losse
Gon. My Lord Sebastian,
The truth you speake doth lacke some gentlenesse,
And time to speake it in: you rub the sore,
When you should bring the plaister
Seb. Very well
Ant. And most Chirurgeonly
Gon. It is foule weather in vs all, good Sir,
When you are cloudy
Seb. Fowle weather?
Ant. Very foule
Gon. Had I plantation of this Isle my Lord
Ant. Hee'd sow't with Nettle-seed
Seb. Or dockes, or Mallowes
Gon. And were the King on't, what would I do?
Seb. Scape being drunke, for want of Wine
Gon. I'th' Commonwealth I would (by contraries)
Execute all things: For no kinde of Trafficke
Would I admit: No name of Magistrate:
Letters should not be knowne: Riches, pouerty,
And vse of seruice, none: Contract, Succession,
Borne, bound of Land, Tilth, Vineyard none:
No vse of Mettall, Corne, or Wine, or Oyle:
No occupation, all men idle, all:
And Women too, but innocent and pure:
No Soueraignty
Seb. Yet he would be King on't
Ant. The latter end of his Common-wealth forgets
the beginning
Gon. All things in common Nature should produce
Without sweat or endeuour: Treason, fellony,
Sword, Pike, Knife, Gun, or neede of any Engine
Would I not haue: but Nature should bring forth
Of it owne kinde, all foyzon, all abundance
To feed my innocent people
Seb. No marrying 'mong his subiects?
Ant. None (man) all idle; Whores and knaues,
Gon. I would with such perfection gouerne Sir:
T' Excell the Golden Age
Seb. 'Saue his Maiesty
Ant. Long liue Gonzalo
Gon. And do you marke me, Sir?
Alon. Pre-thee no more: thou dost talke nothing to me
Gon. I do well beleeue your Highnesse, and did it to minister occasion to these Gentlemen, who are of such sensible and nimble Lungs, that they alwayes vse to laugh at nothing
Ant. 'Twas you we laugh'd at
Gon. Who, in this kind of merry fooling am nothing to you: so you may continue, and laugh at nothing still
Ant. What a blow was there giuen?
Seb. And it had not falne flat-long
Gon. You are Gentlemen of braue mettal: you would lift the Moone out of her spheare, if she would continue in it fiue weekes without changing.
Enter Ariell playing solemne Musicke.
Seb. We would so, and then go a Bat-fowling
Ant. Nay good my Lord, be not angry
Gon. No I warrant you, I will not aduenture my discretion so weakly: Will you laugh me asleepe, for I am very heauy
Ant. Go sleepe, and heare vs
Alon. What, all so soone asleepe? I wish mine eyes
Would (with themselues) shut vp my thoughts,
I finde they are inclin'd to do so
Seb. Please you Sir,
Do not omit the heauy offer of it:
It sildome visits sorrow, when it doth, it is a Comforter
Ant. We two my Lord, will guard your person,
While you take your rest, and watch your safety
Alon. Thanke you: Wondrous heauy
Seb. What a strange drowsines possesses them?
Ant. It is the quality o'th' Clymate
Seb. Why
Doth it not then our eye-lids sinke? I finde
Not my selfe dispos'd to sleep
Ant. Nor I, my spirits are nimble:
They fell together all, as by consent
They dropt, as by a Thunder-stroke: what might
Worthy Sebastian? O, what might? no more:
And yet, me thinkes I see it in thy face,
What thou should'st be: th' occasion speaks thee, and
My strong imagination see's a Crowne
Dropping vpon thy head
Seb. What? art thou waking?
Ant. Do you not heare me speake?
Seb. I do, and surely
It is a sleepy Language; and thou speak'st
Out of thy sleepe: What is it thou didst say?
This is a strange repose, to be asleepe
With eyes wide open: standing, speaking, mouing:
And yet so fast asleepe
Ant. Noble Sebastian,
Thou let'st thy fortune sleepe: die rather: wink'st
Whiles thou art waking
Seb. Thou do'st snore distinctly,
There's meaning in thy snores
Ant. I am more serious then my custome: you
Must be so too, if heed me: which to do,
Trebbles thee o're
Seb. Well: I am standing water
Ant. Ile teach you how to flow
Seb. Do so: to ebbe
Hereditary Sloth instructs me
Ant. O!
If you but knew how you the purpose cherish
Whiles thus you mocke it: how in stripping it
You more inuest it: ebbing men, indeed
(Most often) do so neere the bottome run
By their owne feare, or sloth
Seb. 'Pre-thee say on,
The setting of thine eye, and cheeke proclaime
A matter from thee; and a birth, indeed,
Which throwes thee much to yeeld
Ant. Thus Sir:
Although this Lord of weake remembrance; this
Who shall be of as little memory
When he is earth'd, hath here almost perswaded
(For hee's a Spirit of perswasion, onely
Professes to perswade) the King his sonne's aliue,
'Tis as impossible that hee's vndrown'd,
As he that sleepes heere, swims
Seb. I haue no hope
That hee's vndrown'd
Ant. O, out of that no hope,
What great hope haue you? No hope that way, Is
Another way so high a hope, that euen
Ambition cannot pierce a winke beyond
But doubt discouery there. Will you grant with me
That Ferdinand is drown'd
Seb. He's gone
Ant. Then tell me, who's the next heire of Naples?
Seb. Claribell
Ant. She that is Queene of Tunis: she that dwels
Ten leagues beyond mans life: she that from Naples
Can haue no note, vnlesse the Sun were post:
The Man i'th Moone's too slow, till new-borne chinnes
Be rough, and Razor-able: She that from whom
We all were sea-swallow'd, though some cast againe,
(And by that destiny) to performe an act
Whereof, what's past is Prologue; what to come
In yours, and my discharge
Seb. What stuffe is this? How say you?
'Tis true my brothers daughter's Queene of Tunis,
So is she heyre of Naples, 'twixt which Regions
There is some space
Ant. A space, whose eu'ry cubit
Seemes to cry out, how shall that Claribell
Measure vs backe to Naples? keepe in Tunis,
And let Sebastian wake. Say, this were death
That now hath seiz'd them, why they were no worse
Then now they are: There be that can rule Naples
As well as he that sleepes: Lords, that can prate
As amply, and vnnecessarily
As this Gonzallo: I my selfe could make
A Chough of as deepe chat: O, that you bore
The minde that I do; what a sleepe were this
For your aduancement? Do you vnderstand me?
Seb. Me thinkes I do
Ant. And how do's your content
Tender your owne good fortune?
Seb. I remember
You did supplant your Brother Prospero
Ant. True:
And looke how well my Garments sit vpon me,
Much feater then before: My Brothers seruants
Were then my fellowes, now they are my men
Seb. But for your conscience
Ant. I Sir: where lies that? If 'twere a kybe
'Twould put me to my slipper: But I feele not
This Deity in my bosome: 'Twentie consciences
That stand 'twixt me, and Millaine, candied be they,
And melt ere they mollest: Heere lies your Brother,
No better then the earth he lies vpon,
If he were that which now hee's like (that's dead)
Whom I with this obedient steele (three inches of it)
Can lay to bed for euer: whiles you doing thus,
To the perpetuall winke for aye might put
This ancient morsell: this Sir Prudence, who
Should not vpbraid our course: for all the rest
They'l take suggestion, as a Cat laps milke,
They'l tell the clocke, to any businesse that
We say befits the houre
Seb. Thy case, deere Friend
Shall be my president: As thou got'st Millaine,
I'le come by Naples: Draw thy sword, one stroke
Shall free thee from the tribute which thou paiest,
And I the King shall loue thee
Ant. Draw together:
And when I reare my hand, do you the like
To fall it on Gonzalo
Seb. O, but one word.
Enter Ariell with Musicke and Song.
Ariel. My Master through his Art foresees the danger
That you (his friend) are in, and sends me forth
(For else his proiect dies) to keepe them liuing.
Sings in Gonzaloes eare.
While you here do snoaring lie,
Open-ey'd Conspiracie
His time doth take:
If of Life you keepe a care,
Shake off slumber and beware.
Awake, awake
Ant. Then let vs both be sodaine
Gon. Now, good Angels preserue the King
Alo. Why how now hoa; awake? why are you drawn?
Wherefore this ghastly looking?
Gon. What's the matter?
Seb. Whiles we stood here securing your repose,
(Euen now) we heard a hollow burst of bellowing
Like Buls, or rather Lyons, did't not wake you?
It strooke mine eare most terribly
Alo. I heard nothing
Ant. O, 'twas a din to fright a Monsters eare;
To make an earthquake: sure it was the roare
Of a whole heard of Lyons
Alo. Heard you this Gonzalo?
Gon. Vpon mine honour, Sir, I heard a humming,
(And that a strange one too) which did awake me:
I shak'd you Sir, and cride: as mine eyes opend,
I saw their weapons drawne: there was a noyse,
That's verily: 'tis best we stand vpon our guard;
Or that we quit this place: let's draw our weapons
Alo. Lead off this ground & let's make further search
For my poore sonne
Gon. Heauens keepe him from these Beasts:
For he is sure i'th Island
Alo. Lead away
Ariell. Prospero my Lord, shall know what I haue done.
So (King) goe safely on to seeke thy Son.
Exeunt.
Scoena Secunda.
Enter Caliban, with a burthen of Wood (a noyse of thunder heard.)
Cal. All the infections that the Sunne suckes vp
From Bogs, Fens, Flats, on Prosper fall, and make him
By ynch-meale a disease: his Spirits heare me,
And yet I needes must curse. But they'll nor pinch,
Fright me with Vrchyn-shewes, pitch me i'th mire,
Nor lead me like a fire-brand, in the darke
Out of my way, vnlesse he bid 'em; but
For euery trifle, are they set vpon me,
Sometime like Apes, that moe and chatter at me,
And after bite me: then like Hedg-hogs, which
Lye tumbling in my bare-foote way, and mount
Their pricks at my foot-fall: sometime am I
All wound with Adders, who with clouen tongues
Doe hisse me into madnesse: Lo, now Lo,
Enter Trinculo.
Here comes a Spirit of his, and to torment me
For bringing wood in slowly: I'le fall flat,
Perchance he will not minde me
Tri. Here's neither bush, nor shrub to beare off any weather at all: and another Storme brewing, I heare it sing ith' winde: yond same blacke cloud, yond huge one, lookes like a foule bumbard that would shed his licquor: if it should thunder, as it did before, I know not where to hide my head: yond same cloud cannot choose but fall by pailefuls. What haue we here, a man, or a fish? dead or aliue? a fish, hee smels like a fish: a very ancient and fish-like smell: a kinde of, not of the newest poore-Iohn: a strange fish: were I in England now (as once I was) and had but this fish painted; not a holiday-foole there but would giue a peece of siluer: there, would this Monster, make a man: any strange beast there, makes a man: when they will not giue a doit to relieue a lame Begger, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian: Leg'd like a man; and his Finnes like Armes: warme o'my troth: I doe now let loose my opinion; hold it no longer; this is no fish, but an Islander, that hath lately suffered by a Thunderbolt: Alas, the storme is come againe: my best way is to creepe vnder his Gaberdine: there is no other shelter hereabout: Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellowes: I will here shrowd till the dregges of the storme be past.
Enter Stephano singing..
Ste. I shall no more to sea, to sea, here shall I dye ashore.
This is a very scuruy tune to sing at a mans
Funerall: well, here's my comfort.
Drinkes.
Sings.
The Master, the Swabber, the Boate-swaine & I;
The Gunner, and his Mate
Lou'd Mall, Meg, and Marrian, and Margerie,
But none of vs car'd for Kate.
For she had a tongue with a tang,
Would cry to a Sailor goe hang:
She lou'd not the sauour of Tar nor of Pitch,
Yet a Tailor might scratch her where ere she did itch.
Then to Sea Boyes, and let her goe hang.
This is a scuruy tune too:
But here's my comfort.
Drinks.
Cal. Doe not torment me: oh
Ste. What's the matter? Haue we diuels here? Doe you put trickes vpon's with Saluages, and Men of Inde? ha? I haue not scap'd drowning, to be afeard now of your foure legges: for it hath bin said; as proper a man as euer went on foure legs, cannot make him giue ground: and it shall be said so againe, while Stephano breathes at' nostrils
Cal. The Spirit torments me: oh
Ste. This is some Monster of the Isle, with foure legs; who hath got (as I take it) an Ague: where the diuell should he learne our language? I will giue him some reliefe if it be but for that: if I can recouer him, and keepe him tame, and get to Naples with him, he's a Present for any Emperour that euer trod on Neates-leather
Cal. Doe not torment me 'prethee: I'le bring my wood home faster
Ste. He's in his fit now; and doe's not talke after the wisest; hee shall taste of my Bottle: if hee haue neuer drunke wine afore, it will goe neere to remoue his Fit: if I can recouer him, and keepe him tame, I will not take too much for him; hee shall pay for him that hath him, and that soundly
Cal. Thou do'st me yet but little hurt; thou wilt anon, I know it by thy trembling: Now Prosper workes vpon thee
Ste. Come on your wayes: open your mouth: here is that which will giue 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 againe
Tri. I should know that voyce:
It should be,
But hee is dround; and these are diuels; O defend
me
Ste. Foure legges and two voyces; a most delicate Monster: his forward voyce now is to speake well of his friend; his backward voice, is to vtter foule speeches, and to detract: if all the wine in my bottle will recouer him, I will helpe his Ague: Come: Amen, I will poure some in thy other mouth
Tri. Stephano
Ste. Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy, mercy: This is a diuell, and no Monster: I will leaue him, I haue no long Spoone
Tri. Stephano: if thou beest Stephano, touch me, and speake to me: for I am Trinculo; be not afeard, thy good friend Trinculo
Ste. If thou bee'st Trinculo: come forth: I'le pull thee by the lesser legges: if any be Trinculo's legges, these are they: Thou art very Trinculo indeede: how cam'st thou to be the siege of this Moone-calfe? Can he vent Trinculo's?
Tri. I tooke him to be kil'd with a thunder-strok; but art thou not dround Stephano: I hope now thou art not dround: Is the Storme ouer-blowne? I hid mee vnder the dead Moone-Calfes Gaberdine, for feare of the Storme: And art thou liuing Stephano? O Stephano, two Neapolitanes scap'd?
Ste. 'Prethee doe not turne me about, my stomacke is not constant
Cal. These be fine things, and if they be not sprights: that's a braue God, and beares Celestiall liquor: I will kneele to him
Ste. How did'st thou scape? How cam'st thou hither? Sweare by this Bottle how thou cam'st hither: I escap'd vpon a But of Sacke, which the Saylors heaued o'reboord, by this Bottle which I made of the barke of a Tree, with mine owne hands, since I was cast a'shore
Cal. I'le sweare vpon that Bottle, to be thy true subiect, for the liquor is not earthly
St. Heere: sweare then how thou escap'dst
Tri. Swom ashore (man) like a Ducke: I can swim like a Ducke i'le be sworne
Ste. Here, kisse the Booke. Though thou canst swim like a Ducke, thou art made like a Goose
Tri. O Stephano, ha'st any more of this?
Ste. The whole But (man) my Cellar is in a rocke by th' sea-side, where my Wine is hid: How now Moone-Calfe, how do's thine Ague?
Cal. Ha'st thou not dropt from heauen?
Ste. Out o'th Moone I doe assure thee. I was the
Man ith' Moone, when time was
Cal. I haue seene thee in her: and I doe adore thee:
My Mistris shew'd me thee, and thy Dog, and thy Bush
Ste. Come, sweare to that: kisse the Booke: I will
furnish it anon with new Contents: Sweare
Tri. By this good light, this is a very shallow Monster:
I afeard of him? a very weake Monster:
The Man ith' Moone?
A most poore creadulous Monster:
Well drawne Monster, in good sooth
Cal. Ile shew thee euery fertill ynch o'th Island: and
I will kisse thy foote: I prethee be my god
Tri. By this light, a most perfidious, and drunken
Monster, when's god's a sleepe he'll rob his Bottle
Cal. Ile kisse thy foot, Ile sweare my selfe thy Subiect
Ste. Come on then: downe and sweare
Tri. I shall laugh my selfe to death at this puppi-headed Monster: a most scuruie Monster: I could finde in my heart to beate him
Ste. Come, kisse
Tri. But that the poore Monster's in drinke:
An abhominable Monster
Cal. I'le shew thee the best Springs: I'le plucke thee
Berries: I'le fish for thee; and get thee wood enough.
A plague vpon the Tyrant that I serue;
I'le beare him no more Stickes, but follow thee, thou
wondrous man
Tri. A most rediculous Monster, to make a wonder of
a poore drunkard
Cal. I 'prethee let me bring thee where Crabs grow; and I with my long nayles will digge thee pig-nuts; show thee a Iayes nest, and instruct thee how to snare the nimble Marmazet: I'le bring thee to clustring Philbirts, and sometimes I'le get thee young Scamels from the Rocke: Wilt thou goe with me?
Ste. I pre'thee now lead the way without any more talking. Trinculo, the King, and all our company else being dround, wee will inherit here: Here; beare my Bottle: Fellow Trinculo; we'll fill him by and by againe.
Caliban Sings drunkenly.
Farewell Master; farewell, farewell
Tri. A howling Monster: a drunken Monster
Cal. No more dams I'le make for fish,
Nor fetch in firing, at requiring,
Nor scrape trenchering, nor wash dish,
Ban' ban' Cacalyban
Has a new Master, get a new Man.
Freedome, high-day, high-day freedome, freedome highday,
freedome
Ste. O braue Monster; lead the way.
Exeunt.
Actus Tertius. Scoena Prima.
Enter Ferdinand (bearing a Log.)
Fer. There be some Sports are painfull; & their labor
Delight in them set off: Some kindes of basenesse
Are nobly vndergon; and most poore matters
Point to rich ends: this my meane Taske
Would be as heauy to me, as odious, but
The Mistris which I serue, quickens what's dead,
And makes my labours, pleasures: O She is
Ten times more gentle, then her Father's crabbed;
And he's compos'd of harshnesse. I must remoue
Some thousands of these Logs, and pile them vp,
Vpon a sore iniunction; my sweet Mistris
Weepes when she sees me worke, & saies, such basenes
Had neuer like Executor: I forget:
But these sweet thoughts, doe euen refresh my labours,
Most busie lest, when I doe it.
Enter Miranda | and Prospero.
Mir. Alas, now pray you
Worke not so hard: I would the lightning had
Burnt vp those Logs that you are enioynd to pile:
Pray set it downe, and rest you: when this burnes
'Twill weepe for hauing wearied you: my Father
Is hard at study; pray now rest your selfe,
Hee's safe for these three houres
Fer. O most deere Mistris
The Sun will set before I shall discharge
What I must striue to do
Mir. If you'l sit downe
Ile beare your Logges the while: pray giue me that,
Ile carry it to the pile
Fer. No precious Creature,
I had rather cracke my sinewes, breake my backe,
Then you should such dishonor vndergoe,
While I sit lazy by
Mir. It would become me
As well as it do's you; and I should do it
With much more ease: for my good will is to it,
And yours it is against
Pro. Poore worme thou art infected,
This visitation shewes it
Mir. You looke wearily
Fer. No, noble Mistris, 'tis fresh morning with me
When you are by at night: I do beseech you
Cheefely, that I might set it in my prayers,
What is your name?
Mir. Miranda, O my Father,
I haue broke your hest to say so
Fer. Admir'd Miranda,
Indeede the top of Admiration, worth
What's deerest to the world: full many a Lady
I haue ey'd with best regard, and many a time
Th' harmony of their tongues, hath into bondage
Brought my too diligent eare: for seuerall vertues
Haue I lik'd seuerall women, neuer any
With so full soule, but some defect in her
Did quarrell with the noblest grace she ow'd,
And put it to the foile. But you, O you,
So perfect, and so peerlesse, are created
Of euerie Creatures best
Mir. I do not know
One of my sexe; no womans face remember,
Saue from my glasse, mine owne: Nor haue I seene
More that I may call men, then you good friend,
And my deere Father: how features are abroad
I am skillesse of; but by my modestie
(The iewell in my dower) I would not wish
Any Companion in the world but you:
Nor can imagination forme a shape
Besides your selfe, to like of: but I prattle
Something too wildely, and my Fathers precepts
I therein do forget
Fer. I am, in my condition
A Prince (Miranda) I do thinke a King
(I would not so) and would no more endure
This wodden slauerie, then to suffer
The flesh-flie blow my mouth: heare my soule speake.
The verie instant that I saw you, did
My heart flie to your seruice, there resides
To make me slaue to it, and for your sake
Am I this patient Logge-man
Mir. Do you loue me?
Fer. O heauen; O earth, beare witnes to this sound,
And crowne what I professe with kinde euent
If I speake true: if hollowly, inuert
What best is boaded me, to mischiefe: I,
Beyond all limit of what else i'th world
Do loue, prize, honor you
Mir. I am a foole
To weepe at what I am glad of
Pro. Faire encounter
Of two most rare affections: heauens raine grace
On that which breeds betweene 'em
Fer. Wherefore weepe you?
Mir. At mine vnworthinesse, that dare not offer
What I desire to giue; and much lesse take
What I shall die to want: But this is trifling,
And all the more it seekes to hide it selfe,
The bigger bulke it shewes. Hence bashfull cunning,
And prompt me plaine and holy innocence.
I am your wife, if you will marrie me;
If not, Ile die your maid: to be your fellow
You may denie me, but Ile be your seruant
Whether you will or no
Fer. My Mistris (deerest)
And I thus humble euer
Mir. My husband then?
Fer. I, with a heart as willing
As bondage ere of freedome: heere's my hand
Mir. And mine, with my heart in't; and now farewel
Till halfe an houre hence
Fer. A thousand, thousand.
Exeunt.
Pro. So glad of this as they I cannot be,
Who are surpriz'd with all; but my reioycing
At nothing can be more: Ile to my booke,
For yet ere supper time, must I performe
Much businesse appertaining.
Enter.
Scoena Secunda.
Enter Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo.
Ste. Tell not me, when the But is out we will drinke water, not a drop before; therefore beare vp, & boord em' Seruant Monster, drinke to me
Trin. Seruant Monster? the folly of this Iland, they say there's but fiue vpon this Isle; we are three of them, if th' other two be brain'd like vs, the State totters
Ste. Drinke seruant Monster when I bid thee, thy
eies are almost set in thy head
Trin. Where should they bee set else? hee were a
braue Monster indeede if they were set in his taile
Ste. My man-Monster hath drown'd his tongue in sacke: for my part the Sea cannot drowne mee, I swam ere I could recouer the shore, fiue and thirtie Leagues off and on, by this light thou shalt bee my Lieutenant Monster, or my Standard
Trin. Your Lieutenant if you list, hee's no standard
Ste. Weel not run Monsieur Monster
Trin. Nor go neither: but you'l lie like dogs, and yet
say nothing neither
Ste. Moone-calfe, speak once in thy life, if thou beest
a good Moone-calfe
Cal. How does thy honour? Let me licke thy shooe:
Ile not serue him, he is not valiant
Trin. Thou liest most ignorant Monster, I am in case to iustle a Constable: why, thou debosh'd Fish thou, was there euer man a Coward, that hath drunk so much Sacke as I to day? wilt thou tell a monstrous lie, being but halfe a Fish, and halfe a Monster?
Cal. Loe, how he mockes me, wilt thou let him my
Lord?
Trin. Lord, quoth he? that a Monster should be such
a Naturall?
Cal. Loe, loe againe: bite him to death I prethee
Ste. Trinculo, keepe a good tongue in your head: If you proue a mutineere, the next Tree: the poore Monster's my subiect, and he shall not suffer indignity
Cal. I thanke my noble Lord. Wilt thou be pleas'd
to hearken once againe to the suite I made to thee?
Ste. Marry will I: kneele, and repeate it,
I will stand, and so shall Trinculo.
Enter Ariell inuisible.
Cal. As I told thee before, I am subiect to a Tirant,
A Sorcerer, that by his cunning hath cheated me
Of the Island
Ariell. Thou lyest
Cal. Thou lyest, thou iesting Monkey thou:
I would my valiant Master would destroy thee.
I do not lye
Ste. Trinculo, if you trouble him any more in's tale,
By this hand, I will supplant some of your teeth
Trin. Why, I said nothing
Ste. Mum then, and no more: proceed
Cal. I say by Sorcery he got this Isle
From me, he got it. If thy Greatnesse will
Reuenge it on him, (for I know thou dar'st)
But this Thing dare not
Ste. That's most certaine
Cal. Thou shalt be Lord of it, and Ile serue thee
Ste. How now shall this be compast?
Canst thou bring me to the party?
Cal. Yea, yea my Lord, Ile yeeld him thee asleepe,
Where thou maist knocke a naile into his head
Ariell. Thou liest, thou canst not
Cal. What a py'de Ninnie's this? Thou scuruy patch:
I do beseech thy Greatnesse giue him blowes,
And take his bottle from him: When that's gone,
He shall drinke nought but brine, for Ile not shew him
Where the quicke Freshes are
Ste. Trinculo, run into no further danger:
Interrupt the Monster one word further, and by this
hand, Ile turne my mercie out o' doores, and make a
Stockfish of thee
Trin. Why, what did I? I did nothing:
Ile go farther off
Ste. Didst thou not say he lyed?
Ariell. Thou liest
Ste. Do I so? Take thou that,
As you like this, giue me the lye another time
Trin. I did not giue the lie: Out o'your wittes, and
hearing too?
A pox o'your bottle, this can Sacke and drinking doo:
A murren on your Monster, and the diuell take your
fingers
Cal. Ha, ha, ha
Ste. Now forward with your Tale: prethee stand
further off
Cal. Beate him enough: after a little time
Ile beate him too
Ste. Stand farther: Come proceede
Cal. Why, as I told thee, 'tis a custome with him
I'th afternoone to sleepe: there thou maist braine him,
Hauing first seiz'd his bookes: Or with a logge
Batter his skull, or paunch him with a stake,
Or cut his wezand with thy knife. Remember
First to possesse his Bookes; for without them
Hee's but a Sot, as I am; nor hath not
One Spirit to command: they all do hate him
As rootedly as I. Burne but his Bookes,
He ha's braue Vtensils (for so he calles them)
Which when he ha's a house, hee'l decke withall.
And that most deeply to consider, is
The beautie of his daughter: he himselfe
Cals her a non-pareill: I neuer saw a woman
But onely Sycorax my Dam, and she;
But she as farre surpasseth Sycorax,
As great'st do's least
Ste. Is it so braue a Lasse?
Cal. I Lord, she will become thy bed, I warrant,
And bring thee forth braue brood
Ste. Monster, I will kill this man: his daughter and
I will be King and Queene, saue our Graces: and Trinculo
and thy selfe shall be Viceroyes:
Dost thou like the plot Trinculo?
Trin. Excellent
Ste. Giue me thy hand, I am sorry I beate thee:
But while thou liu'st keepe a good tongue in thy head
Cal. Within this halfe houre will he be asleepe,
Wilt thou destroy him then?
Ste. I on mine honour
Ariell. This will I tell my Master
Cal. Thou mak'st me merry: I am full of pleasure,
Let vs be iocond. Will you troule the Catch
You taught me but whileare?
Ste. At thy request Monster, I will do reason,
Any reason: Come on Trinculo, let vs sing.
Sings.
Flout 'em, and cout 'em: and skowt 'em, and flout 'em,
Thought is free
Cal. That's not the tune.
Ariell plaies the tune on a Tabor and Pipe.
Ste. What is this same?
Trin. This is the tune of our Catch, plaid by the picture
of No-body
Ste. If thou beest a man, shew thy selfe in thy likenes:
If thou beest a diuell, take't as thou list
Trin. O forgiue me my sinnes
Ste. He that dies payes all debts: I defie thee;
Mercy vpon vs
Cal. Art thou affeard?
Ste. No Monster, not I
Cal. Be not affeard, the Isle is full of noyses,
Sounds, and sweet aires, that giue delight and hurt not:
Sometimes a thousand twangling Instruments
Will hum about mine eares; and sometime voices,
That if I then had wak'd after long sleepe,
Will make me sleepe againe, and then in dreaming,
The clouds methought would open, and shew riches
Ready to drop vpon me, that when I wak'd
I cri'de to dreame againe
Ste. This will proue a braue kingdome to me,
Where I shall haue my Musicke for nothing
Cal. When Prospero is destroy'd
Ste. That shall be by and by:
I remember the storie
Trin. The sound is going away,
Lets follow it, and after do our worke
Ste. Leade Monster,
Wee'l follow: I would I could see this Taborer,
He layes it on
Trin. Wilt come?
Ile follow Stephano.
Exeunt.
Scena Tertia.
Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Anthonio, Gonzallo, Adrian, Francisco, &c.
Gon. By'r lakin, I can goe no further, Sir,
My old bones akes: here's a maze trod indeede
Through fourth-rights, & Meanders: by your patience,
I needes must rest me
Al. Old Lord, I cannot blame thee,
Who, am my selfe attach'd with wearinesse
To th' dulling of my spirits: Sit downe, and rest:
Euen here I will put off my hope, and keepe it
No longer for my Flatterer: he is droun'd
Whom thus we stray to finde, and the Sea mocks
Our frustrate search on land: well, let him goe
Ant. I am right glad, that he's so out of hope:
Doe not for one repulse forgoe the purpose
That you resolu'd t' effect
Seb. The next aduantage will we take throughly
Ant. Let it be to night,
For now they are oppress'd with trauaile, they
Will not, nor cannot vse such vigilance
As when they are fresh.
Solemne and strange Musicke: and Prosper on the top (inuisible:) Enter seuerall strange shapes, bringing in a Banket; and dance about it with gentle actions of salutations, and inuiting the King, &c. to eate, they depart.
Seb. I say to night: no more
Al. What harmony is this? my good friends, harke
Gon. Maruellous sweet Musicke
Alo. Giue vs kind keepers, heaue[n]s: what were these?
Seb. A liuing Drolerie: now I will beleeue
That there are Vnicornes: that in Arabia
There is one Tree, the Phoenix throne, one Phoenix
At this houre reigning there
Ant. Ile beleeue both:
And what do's else want credit, come to me
And Ile besworne 'tis true: Trauellers nere did lye,
Though fooles at home condemne 'em
Gon. If in Naples
I should report this now, would they beleeue me?
If I should say I saw such Islands;
(For certes, these are people of the Island)
Who though they are of monstrous shape, yet note
Their manners are more gentle, kinde, then of
Our humaine generation you shall finde
Many, nay almost any
Pro. Honest Lord,
Thou hast said well: for some of you there present;
Are worse then diuels
Al. I cannot too much muse
Such shapes, such gesture, and such sound expressing
(Although they want the vse of tongue) a kinde
Of excellent dumbe discourse
Pro. Praise in departing
Fr. They vanish'd strangely
Seb. No matter, since
They haue left their Viands behinde; for wee haue stomacks.
Wilt please you taste of what is here?
Alo. Not I
Gon. Faith Sir, you neede not feare: when wee were Boyes
Who would beleeue that there were Mountayneeres,
Dew-lapt, like Buls, whose throats had hanging at 'em
Wallets of flesh? or that there were such men
Whose heads stood in their brests? which now we finde
Each putter out of fiue for one, will bring vs
Good warrant of
Al. I will stand to, and feede,
Although my last, no matter, since I feele
The best is past: brother: my Lord, the Duke,
Stand too, and doe as we.
Thunder and Lightning. Enter Ariell (like a Harpey) claps his wings vpon the Table, and with a quient deuice the Banquet vanishes.
Ar. You are three men of sinne, whom destiny
That hath to instrument this lower world,
And what is in't: the neuer surfeited Sea,
Hath caus'd to belch vp you: and on this Island,
Where man doth not inhabit, you 'mongst men,
Being most vnfit to liue: I haue made you mad;
And euen with such like valour, men hang, and drowne
Their proper selues: you fooles, I and my fellowes
Are ministers of Fate, the Elements
Of whom your swords are temper'd, may as well
Wound the loud windes, or with bemockt-at-Stabs
Kill the still closing waters, as diminish
One dowle that's in my plumbe: My fellow ministers
Are like-invulnerable: if you could hurt,
Your swords are now too massie for your strengths,
And will not be vplifted: But remember
(For that's my businesse to you) that you three
From Millaine did supplant good Prospero,
Expos'd vnto the Sea (which hath requit it)
Him, and his innocent childe: for which foule deed,
The Powres, delaying (not forgetting) haue
Incens'd the Seas, and Shores; yea, all the Creatures
Against your peace: Thee of thy Sonne, Alonso
They haue bereft; and doe pronounce by me
Lingring perdition (worse then any death
Can be at once) shall step, by step attend
You, and your wayes, whose wraths to guard you from,
Which here, in this most desolate Isle, else fals
Vpon your heads, is nothing but hearts-sorrow,
And a cleere life ensuing.
He vanishes in Thunder: then (to soft Musicke.) Enter the shapes againe, and daunce (with mockes and mowes) and carrying out the Table.
Pro. Brauely the figure of this Harpie, hast thou
Perform'd (my Ariell) a grace it had deuouring:
Of my Instruction, hast thou nothing bated
In what thou had'st to say: so with good life,
And obseruation strange, my meaner ministers
Their seuerall kindes haue done: my high charmes work,
And these (mine enemies) are all knit vp
In their distractions: they now are in my powre;
And in these fits, I leaue them, while I visit
Yong Ferdinand (whom they suppose is droun'd)
And his, and mine lou'd darling
Gon. I'th name of something holy, Sir, why stand you
In this strange stare?
Al. O, it is monstrous: monstrous:
Me thought the billowes spoke, and told me of it,
The windes did sing it to me: and the Thunder
(That deepe and dreadfull Organ-Pipe) pronounc'd
The name of Prosper: it did base my Trespasse,
Therefore my Sonne i'th Ooze is bedded; and
I'le seeke him deeper then ere plummet sounded,
And with him there lye mudded.
Enter.
Seb. But one feend at a time,
Ile fight their Legions ore
Ant. Ile be thy Second.
Exeunt.
Gon. All three of them are desperate: their great guilt
(Like poyson giuen to worke a great time after)
Now gins to bite the spirits: I doe beseech you
(That are of suppler ioynts) follow them swiftly,
And hinder them from what this extasie
May now prouoke them to
Ad. Follow, I pray you.
Exeunt. omnes.
Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.
Enter Prospero, Ferdinand, and Miranda.
Pro. If I haue too austerely punish'd you,
Your compensation makes amends, for I
Haue giuen you here, a third of mine owne life,
Or that for which I liue: who, once againe
I tender to thy hand: All thy vexations
Were but my trials of thy loue, and thou
Hast strangely stood the test: here, afore heauen
I ratifie this my rich guift: O Ferdinand,
Doe not smile at me, that I boast her of,
For thou shalt finde she will out-strip all praise
And make it halt, behinde her
Fer. I doe beleeue it
Against an Oracle
Pro. Then, as my guest, and thine owne acquisition
Worthily purchas'd, take my daughter: But
If thou do'st breake her Virgin-knot, before
All sanctimonious ceremonies may
With full and holy right, be ministred,
No sweet aspersion shall the heauens let fall
To make this contract grow; but barraine hate,
Sower-ey'd disdaine, and discord shall bestrew
The vnion of your bed, with weedes so loathly
That you shall hate it both: Therefore take heede,
As Hymens Lamps shall light you
Fer. As I hope
For quiet dayes, faire Issue, and long life,
With such loue, as 'tis now the murkiest den,
The most opportune place, the strongst suggestion,
Our worser Genius can, shall neuer melt
Mine honor into lust, to take away
The edge of that dayes celebration,
When I shall thinke, or Phoebus Steeds are founderd,
Or Night kept chain'd below
Pro. Fairely spoke;
Sit then, and talke with her, she is thine owne;
What Ariell; my industrious serua[n]t Ariell.
Enter Ariell.
Ar. What would my potent master? here I am
Pro. Thou, and thy meaner fellowes, your last seruice
Did worthily performe: and I must vse you
In such another tricke: goe bring the rabble
(Ore whom I giue thee powre) here, to this place:
Incite them to quicke motion, for I must
Bestow vpon the eyes of this yong couple
Some vanity of mine Art: it is my promise,
And they expect it from me
Ar. Presently?
Pro. I: with a twincke
Ar. Before you can say come, and goe,
And breathe twice; and cry, so, so:
Each one tripping on his Toe,
Will be here with mop, and mowe.
Doe you loue me Master? no?
Pro. Dearely, my delicate Ariell: doe not approach
Till thou do'st heare me call
Ar. Well: I conceiue.
Enter.
Pro. Looke thou be true: doe not giue dalliance
Too much the raigne: the strongest oathes, are straw
To th' fire ith' blood: be more abstenious,
Or else good night your vow
Fer. I warrant you, Sir,
The white cold virgin Snow, vpon my heart
Abates the ardour of my Liuer
Pro. Well.
Now come my Ariell, bring a Corolary,
Rather then want a Spirit; appear, & pertly.
Soft musick.
No tongue: all eyes: be silent.
Enter Iris.
Ir. Ceres, most bounteous Lady, thy rich Leas
Of Wheate, Rye, Barley, Fetches, Oates and Pease;
Thy Turphie-Mountaines, where liue nibling Sheepe,
And flat Medes thetchd with Stouer, them to keepe:
Thy bankes with pioned, and twilled brims
Which spungie Aprill, at thy hest betrims;
To make cold Nymphes chast crownes; & thy broomegroues;
Whose shadow the dismissed Batchelor loues,
Being lasse-lorne: thy pole-clipt vineyard,
And thy Sea-marge stirrile, and rockey-hard,
Where thou thy selfe do'st ayre, the Queene o'th Skie,
Whose watry Arch, and messenger, am I.
Bids thee leaue these, & with her soueraigne grace,
Iuno descends.
Here on this grasse-plot, in this very place
To come, and sport: here Peacocks flye amaine:
Approach, rich Ceres, her to entertaine.
Enter Ceres.
Cer. Haile, many-coloured Messenger, that nere
Do'st disobey the wife of Iupiter:
Who, with thy saffron wings, vpon my flowres
Diffusest hony drops, refreshing showres,
And with each end of thy blew bowe do'st crowne
My boskie acres, and my vnshrubd downe,
Rich scarph to my proud earth: why hath thy Queene
Summond me hither, to this short gras'd Greene?
Ir. A contract of true Loue, to celebrate,
And some donation freely to estate
On the bles'd Louers
Cer. Tell me heauenly Bowe,
If Venus or her Sonne, as thou do'st know,
Doe now attend the Queene? since they did plot
The meanes, that duskie Dis, my daughter got,
Her, and her blind-Boyes scandald company,
I haue forsworne
Ir. Of her societie
Be not afraid: I met her deitie
Cutting the clouds towards Paphos: and her Son
Doue-drawn with her: here thought they to haue done
Some wanton charme, vpon this Man and Maide,
Whose vowes are, that no bed-right shall be paid
Till Hymens Torch be lighted: but in vaine,
Marses hot Minion is returnd againe,
Her waspish headed sonne, has broke his arrowes,
Swears he will shoote no more, but play with Sparrows,
And be a Boy right out
Cer. Highest Queene of State,
Great Iuno comes, I know her by her gate
Iu. How do's my bounteous sister? goe with me
To blesse this twaine, that they may prosperous be,
And honourd in their Issue.
They sing.
Iu. Honor, riches, marriage, blessing,
Long continuance, and encreasing,
Hourely ioyes, be still vpon you,
Iuno sings her blessings on you.
Earths increase, foyzon plentie,
Barnes, and Garners, neuer empty.
Vines, with clustring bunches growing,
Plants, with goodly burthen bowing:
Spring come to you at the farthest,
In the very end of Haruest.
Scarcity and want shall shun you,
Ceres blessing so is on you
Fer. This is a most maiesticke vision, and
Harmonious charmingly: may I be bold
To thinke these spirits?
Pro. Spirits, which by mine Art
I haue from their confines call'd to enact
My present fancies
Fer. Let me liue here euer,
So rare a wondred Father, and a wise
Makes this place Paradise
Pro. Sweet now, silence:
Iuno and Ceres whisper seriously,
There's something else to doe: hush, and be mute
Or else our spell is mar'd.
Iuno and Ceres whisper, and send Iris on employment.
Iris. You Nimphs cald Nayades of y windring brooks,
With your sedg'd crownes, and euer-harmelesse lookes,
Leaue your crispe channels, and on this green-Land
Answere your summons, Iuno do's command.
Come temperate Nimphes, and helpe to celebrate
A Contract of true Loue: be not too late.
Enter Certaine Nimphes.
You Sun-burn'd Sicklemen of August weary,
Come hether from the furrow, and be merry,
Make holly day: your Rye-straw hats put on,
And these fresh Nimphes encounter euery one
In Country footing.
Enter certaine Reapers (properly habited:) they ioyne with the Nimphes, in a gracefull dance, towards the end whereof, Prospero starts sodainly and speakes, after which to a strange hollow and confused noyse, they heauily vanish.
Pro. I had forgot that foule conspiracy
Of the beast Calliban, and his confederates
Against my life: the minute of their plot
Is almost come: Well done, auoid: no more
Fer. This is strange: your fathers in some passion
That workes him strongly
Mir. Neuer till this day
Saw I him touch'd with anger, so distemper'd
Pro. You doe looke (my son) in a mou'd sort,
As if you were dismaid: be cheerefull Sir,
Our Reuels now are ended: These our actors,
(As I foretold you) were all Spirits, and
Are melted into Ayre, into thin Ayre,
And like the baselesse fabricke of this vision
The Clowd-capt Towres, the gorgeous Pallaces,
The solemne Temples, the great Globe it selfe,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolue,
And like this insubstantiall Pageant faded
Leaue not a racke behinde: we are such stuffe
As dreames are made on; and our little life
Is rounded with a sleepe: Sir, I am vext,
Beare with my weakenesse, my old braine is troubled:
Be not disturb'd with my infirmitie,
If you be pleas'd, retire into my Cell,
And there repose, a turne or two, Ile walke
To still my beating minde
Fer. Mir. We wish your peace.
Enter.
Pro. Come with a thought; I thank thee Ariell: come.
Enter Ariell.
Ar. Thy thoughts I cleaue to, what's thy pleasure?
Pro. Spirit: We must prepare to meet with Caliban
Ar. I my Commander, when I presented Ceres
I thought to haue told thee of it, but I fear'd
Least I might anger thee
Pro. Say again, where didst thou leaue these varlots?
Ar. I told you Sir, they were red-hot with drinking,
So full of valour, that they smote the ayre
For breathing in their faces: beate the ground
For kissing of their feete; yet alwaies bending
Towards their proiect: then I beate my Tabor,
At which like vnback't colts they prickt their eares,
Aduanc'd their eye-lids, lifted vp their noses
As they smelt musicke, so I charm'd their eares
That Calfe-like, they my lowing follow'd, through
Tooth'd briars, sharpe firzes, pricking gosse, & thorns,
Which entred their fraile shins: at last I left them
I'th' filthy mantled poole beyond your Cell,
There dancing vp to th' chins, that the fowle Lake
Ore-stunck their feet
Pro. This was well done (my bird)
Thy shape inuisible retaine thou still:
The trumpery in my house, goe bring it hither
For stale to catch these theeues
Ar. I go, I goe.
Enter.
Pro. A Deuill, a borne-Deuill, on whose nature
Nurture can neuer sticke: on whom my paines
Humanely taken, all, all lost, quite lost,
And, as with age, his body ouglier growes,
So his minde cankers: I will plague them all,
Euen to roaring: Come, hang on them this line.
Enter Ariell, loaden with glistering apparell, &c. Enter Caliban,
Stephano, and Trinculo, all wet.
Cal. Pray you tread softly, that the blinde Mole may
not heare a foot fall: we now are neere his Cell
St. Monster, your Fairy, w you say is a harmles Fairy,
Has done little better then plaid the Iacke with vs
Trin. Monster, I do smell all horse-pisse, at which
My nose is in great indignation
Ste. So is mine. Do you heare Monster: If I should
Take a displeasure against you: Looke you
Trin. Thou wert but a lost Monster
Cal. Good my Lord, giue me thy fauour stil,
Be patient, for the prize Ile bring thee too
Shall hudwinke this mischance: therefore speake softly,
All's husht as midnight yet
Trin. I, but to loose our bottles in the Poole
Ste. There is not onely disgrace and dishonor in that
Monster, but an infinite losse
Tr. That's more to me then my wetting:
Yet this is your harmlesse Fairy, Monster
Ste. I will fetch off my bottle,
Though I be o're eares for my labour
Cal. Pre-thee (my King) be quiet. Seest thou heere
This is the mouth o'th Cell: no noise, and enter:
Do that good mischeefe, which may make this Island
Thine owne for euer, and I thy Caliban
For aye thy foot-licker
Ste. Giue me thy hand,
I do begin to haue bloody thoughts
Trin. O King Stephano, O Peere: O worthy Stephano,
Looke what a wardrobe heere is for thee
Cal. Let it alone thou foole, it is but trash
Tri. Oh, ho, Monster: wee know what belongs to a
frippery, O King Stephano
Ste. Put off that gowne (Trinculo) by this hand Ile
haue that gowne
Tri. Thy grace shall haue it
Cal. The dropsie drowne this foole, what doe you meane
To doate thus on such luggage? let's alone
And doe the murther first: if he awake,
From toe to crowne hee'l fill our skins with pinches,
Make vs strange stuffe
Ste. Be you quiet (Monster) Mistris line, is not this my Ierkin? how is the Ierkin vnder the line: now Ierkin you are like to lose your haire, & proue a bald Ierkin
Trin. Doe, doe; we steale by lyne and leuell, and't
like your grace
Ste. I thank thee for that iest; heer's a garment for't:
Wit shall not goe vn-rewarded while I am King of this
Country: Steale by line and leuell, is an excellent passe
of pate: there's another garment for't
Tri. Monster, come put some Lime vpon your fingers,
and away with the rest
Cal. I will haue none on't: we shall loose our time,
And all be turn'd to Barnacles, or to Apes
With foreheads villanous low
Ste. Monster, lay to your fingers: helpe to beare this away, where my hogshead of wine is, or Ile turne you out of my kingdome: goe to, carry this
Tri. And this
Ste. I, and this.
A noyse of Hunters heard. Enter diuers Spirits in shape of Dogs
and
Hounds, hunting them about: Prospero and Ariel setting them on.
Pro. Hey Mountaine, hey
Ari. Siluer: there it goes, Siluer
Pro. Fury, Fury: there Tyrant, there: harke, harke.
Goe, charge my Goblins that they grinde their ioynts
With dry Convultions, shorten vp their sinewes
With aged Cramps, & more pinch-spotted make them,
Then Pard, or Cat o' Mountaine
Ari. Harke, they rore
Pro. Let them be hunted soundly: At this houre
Lies at my mercy all mine enemies:
Shortly shall all my labours end, and thou
Shalt haue the ayre at freedome: for a little
Follow, and doe me seruice.
Exeunt.
Actus quintus: Scoena Prima.
Enter Prospero (in his Magicke robes) and Ariel.
Pro. Now do's my Proiect gather to a head:
My charmes cracke not: my Spirits obey, and Time
Goes vpright with his carriage: how's the day?
Ar. On the sixt hower, at which time, my Lord
You said our worke should cease
Pro. I did say so,
When first I rais'd the Tempest: say my Spirit,
How fares the King, and's followers?
Ar. Confin'd together
In the same fashion, as you gaue in charge,
Iust as you left them; all prisoners Sir
In the Line-groue which weather-fends your Cell,
They cannot boudge till your release: The King,
His Brother, and yours, abide all three distracted,
And the remainder mourning ouer them,
Brim full of sorrow, and dismay: but chiefly
Him that you term'd Sir, the good old Lord Gonzallo,
His teares runs downe his beard like winters drops
From eaues of reeds: your charm so strongly works 'em
That if you now beheld them, your affections
Would become tender
Pro. Dost thou thinke so, Spirit?
Ar. Mine would, Sir, were I humane
Pro. And mine shall.
Hast thou (which art but aire) a touch, a feeling
Of their afflictions, and shall not my selfe,
One of their kinde, that rellish all as sharpely,
Passion as they, be kindlier mou'd then thou art?
Thogh with their high wrongs I am strook to th' quick,
Yet, with my nobler reason, gainst my furie
Doe I take part: the rarer Action is
In vertue, then in vengeance: they, being penitent,
The sole drift of my purpose doth extend
Not a frowne further: Goe, release them Ariell,
My Charmes Ile breake, their sences Ile restore,
And they shall be themselues
Ar. Ile fetch them, Sir.
Enter.
Pro. Ye Elues of hils, brooks, sta[n]ding lakes & groues,
And ye, that on the sands with printlesse foote
Doe chase the ebbingNeptune, and doe flie him
When he comes backe: you demy-Puppets, that
By Moone-shine doe the greene sowre Ringlets make,
Whereof the Ewe not bites: and you, whose pastime
Is to make midnight-Mushrumps, that reioyce
To heare the solemne Curfewe, by whose ayde
(Weake Masters though ye be) I haue bedymn'd
The Noone-tide Sun, call'd forth the mutenous windes,
And twixt the greene Sea, and the azur'd vault
Set roaring warre: To the dread ratling Thunder
Haue I giuen fire, and rifted Ioues stowt Oke
With his owne Bolt: The strong bass'd promontorie
Haue I made shake, and by the spurs pluckt vp
The Pyne, and Cedar. Graues at my command
Haue wak'd their sleepers, op'd, and let 'em forth
By my so potent Art. But this rough Magicke
I heere abiure: and when I haue requir'd
Some heauenly Musicke (which euen now I do)
To worke mine end vpon their Sences, that
This Ayrie-charme is for, I'le breake my staffe,
Bury it certaine fadomes in the earth,
And deeper then did euer Plummet sound
Ile drowne my booke.
Solemne musicke.
Heere enters Ariel before: Then Alonso with a franticke gesture, attended by Gonzalo. Sebastian and Anthonio in like manner attended by Adrian and Francisco: They all enter the circle which Prospero had made, and there stand charm'd: which Prospero obseruing, speakes.
A solemne Ayre, and the best comforter,
To an vnsetled fancie, Cure thy braines
(Now vselesse) boile within thy skull: there stand
For you are Spell-stopt.
Holy Gonzallo, Honourable man,
Mine eyes ev'n sociable to the shew of thine
Fall fellowly drops: The charme dissolues apace,
And as the morning steales vpon the night
(Melting the darkenesse) so their rising sences
Begin to chace the ignorant fumes that mantle
Their cleerer reason. O good Gonzallo
My true preseruer, and a loyall Sir,
To him thou follow'st; I will pay thy graces
Home both in word, and deede: Most cruelly
Did thou Alonso, vse me, and my daughter:
Thy brother was a furtherer in the Act,
Thou art pinch'd for't now Sebastian. Flesh, and bloud,
You, brother mine, that entertaine ambition,
Expelld remorse, and nature, whom, with Sebastian
(Whose inward pinches therefore are most strong)
Would heere haue kill'd your King: I do forgiue thee,
Vnnaturall though thou art: Their vnderstanding
Begins to swell, and the approching tide
Will shortly fill the reasonable shore
That now ly foule, and muddy: not one of them
That yet lookes on me, or would know me: Ariell,
Fetch me the Hat, and Rapier in my Cell,
I will discase me, and my selfe present
As I was sometime Millaine: quickly Spirit,
Thou shalt ere long be free.
Ariell sings, and helps to attire him.
Where the Bee sucks, there suck I,
In a Cowslips bell, I lie,
There I cowch when Owles doe crie,
On the Batts backe I doe flie
after Sommer merrily.
Merrily, merrily, shall I liue now,
Vnder the blossom that hangs on the Bow
Pro. Why that's my dainty Ariell: I shall misse
Thee, but yet thou shalt haue freedome: so, so, so,
To the Kings ship, inuisible as thou art,
There shalt thou finde the Marriners asleepe
Vnder the Hatches: the Master and the Boat-swaine
Being awake, enforce them to this place;
And presently, I pre'thee
Ar. I drinke the aire before me, and returne
Or ere your pulse twice beate.
Enter.
Gon. All torment, trouble, wonder, and amazement
Inhabits heere: some heauenly power guide vs
Out of this fearefull Country
Pro. Behold Sir King
The wronged Duke of Millaine, Prospero:
For more assurance that a liuing Prince
Do's now speake to thee, I embrace thy body,
And to thee, and thy Company, I bid
A hearty welcome
Alo. Where thou bee'st he or no,
Or some inchanted triflle to abuse me,
(As late I haue beene) I not know: thy Pulse
Beats as of flesh, and blood: and since I saw thee,
Th' affliction of my minde amends, with which
I feare a madnesse held me: this must craue
(And if this be at all) a most strange story.
Thy Dukedome I resigne, and doe entreat
Thou pardon me my wrongs: But how shold Prospero
Be liuing, and be heere?
Pro. First, noble Frend,
Let me embrace thine age, whose honor cannot
Be measur'd, or confin'd
Gonz. Whether this be,
Or be not, I'le not sweare
Pro. You doe yet taste
Some subtleties o'th' Isle, that will nor let you
Beleeue things certaine: Wellcome, my friends all,
But you, my brace of Lords, were I so minded
I heere could plucke his Highnesse frowne vpon you
And iustifie you Traitors: at this time
I will tell no tales
Seb. The Diuell speakes in him:
Pro. No:
For you (most wicked Sir) whom to call brother
Would euen infect my mouth, I do forgiue
Thy rankest fault; all of them: and require
My Dukedome of thee, which, perforce I know
Thou must restore
Alo. If thou beest Prospero
Giue vs particulars of thy preseruation,
How thou hast met vs heere, whom three howres since
Were wrackt vpon this shore? where I haue lost
(How sharp the point of this remembrance is)
My deere sonne Ferdinand
Pro. I am woe for't, Sir
Alo. Irreparable is the losse, and patience
Saies, it is past her cure
Pro. I rather thinke
You haue not sought her helpe, of whose soft grace
For the like losse, I haue her soueraigne aid,
And rest my selfe content
Alo. You the like losse?
Pro. As great to me, as late, and supportable
To make the deere losse, haue I meanes much weaker
Then you may call to comfort you; for I
Haue lost my daughter
Alo. A daughter?
Oh heauens, that they were liuing both in Naples
The King and Queene there, that they were, I wish
My selfe were mudded in that oozie bed
Where my sonne lies: when did you lose your daughter?
Pro. In this last Tempest. I perceiue these Lords
At this encounter doe so much admire,
That they deuoure their reason, and scarce thinke
Their eies doe offices of Truth: Their words
Are naturall breath: but howsoeu'r you haue
Beene iustled from your sences, know for certain
That I am Prospero, and that very Duke
Which was thrust forth of Millaine, who most strangely
Vpon this shore (where you were wrackt) 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 break-fast, nor
Befitting this first meeting: Welcome, Sir;
This Cell's my Court: heere haue I few attendants,
And Subiects none abroad: pray you looke in:
My Dukedome since you haue giuen me againe,
I will requite you with as good a thing,
At least bring forth a wonder, to content ye
As much, as me my Dukedome.
Here Prospero discouers Ferdinand and Miranda, playing at
Chesse.
Mir. Sweet Lord, you play me false
Fer. No my dearest loue,
I would not for the world
Mir. Yes, for a score of Kingdomes, you should wrangle,
And I would call it faire play
Alo. If this proue
A vision of the Island, one deere Sonne
Shall I twice loose
Seb. A most high miracle
Fer. Though the Seas threaten they are mercifull,
I haue curs'd them without cause
Alo. Now all the blessings
Of a glad father, compasse thee about:
Arise, and say how thou cam'st heere
Mir. O wonder!
How many goodly creatures are there heere?
How beauteous mankinde is? O braue new world
That has such people in't
Pro. 'Tis new to thee
Alo. What is this Maid, with whom thou was't at play?
Your eld'st acquaintance cannot be three houres:
Is she the goddesse that hath seuer'd vs,
And brought vs thus together?
Fer. Sir, she is mortall;
But by immortall prouidence, she's mine;
I chose her when I could not aske my Father
For his aduise: nor thought I had one: She
Is daughter to this famous Duke of Millaine,
Of whom, so often I haue heard renowne,
But neuer saw before: of whom I haue
Receiu'd a second life; and second Father
This Lady makes him to me
Alo. I am hers.
But O, how odly will it sound, that I
Must aske my childe forgiuenesse?
Pro. There Sir stop,
Let vs not burthen our remembrances, with
A heauinesse that's gon
Gon. I haue inly wept,
Or should haue spoke ere this: looke downe you gods
And on this couple drop a blessed crowne;
For it is you, that haue chalk'd forth the way
Which brought vs hither
Alo. I say Amen, Gonzallo
Gon. Was Millaine thrust from Millaine, that his Issue
Should become Kings of Naples? O reioyce
Beyond a common ioy, and set it downe
With gold on lasting Pillers: In one voyage
Did Claribell her husband finde at Tunis,
And Ferdinand her brother, found a wife,
Where he himselfe was lost: Prospero, his Dukedome
In a poore Isle: and all of vs, our selues,
When no man was his owne
Alo. Giue me your hands:
Let griefe and sorrow still embrace his heart,
That doth not wish you ioy
Gon. Be it so, Amen.
Enter Ariell, with the Master and Boatswaine amazedly following.
O looke Sir, looke Sir, here is more of vs:
I prophesi'd, if a Gallowes were on Land
This fellow could not drowne: Now blasphemy,
That swear'st Grace ore-boord, not an oath on shore,
Hast thou no mouth by land?
What is the newes?
Bot. The best newes is, that we haue safely found
Our King, and company: The next: our Ship,
Which but three glasses since, we gaue out split,
Is tyte, and yare, and brauely rig'd, as when
We first put out to Sea
Ar. Sir, all this seruice
Haue I done since I went
Pro. My tricksey Spirit
Alo. These are not naturall euents, they strengthen
From strange, to stranger: say, how came you hither?
Bot. If I did thinke, Sir, I were well awake,
I'ld striue to tell you: we were dead of sleepe,
And (how we know not) all clapt vnder hatches,
Where, but euen now, with strange, and seuerall noyses
Of roring, shreeking, howling, gingling chaines,
And mo diuersitie of sounds, all horrible.
We were awak'd: straight way, at liberty;
Where we, in all our trim, freshly beheld
Our royall, good, and gallant Ship: our Master
Capring to eye her: on a trice, so please you,
Euen in a dreame, were we diuided from them,
And were brought moaping hither
Ar. Was't well done?
Pro. Brauely (my diligence) thou shalt be free
Alo. This is as strange a Maze, as ere men trod,
And there is in this businesse, more then nature
Was euer conduct of: some Oracle
Must rectifie our knowledge
Pro. Sir, my Leige,
Doe not infest your minde, with beating on
The strangenesse of this businesse, at pickt leisure
(Which shall be shortly single) I'le resolue you,
(Which to you shall seeme probable) of euery
These happend accidents: till when, be cheerefull
And thinke of each thing well: Come hither Spirit,
Set Caliban, and his companions free:
Vntye the Spell: How fares my gracious Sir?
There are yet missing of your Companie
Some few odde Lads, that you remember not.
Enter Ariell, driuing in Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo in their
stolne
Apparell.
Ste. Euery man shift for all the rest, and let
No man take care for himselfe; for all is
But fortune: Coragio Bully-Monster Coragio
Tri. If these be true spies which I weare in my head,
here's a goodly sight
Cal. O Setebos, these be braue Spirits indeede:
How fine my Master is? I am afraid
He will chastise me
Seb. Ha, ha:
What things are these, my Lord Anthonio?
Will money buy em?
Ant. Very like: one of them
Is a plaine Fish, and no doubt marketable
Pro. Marke but the badges of these men, my Lords,
Then say if they be true: This mishapen knaue;
His Mother was a Witch, and one so strong
That could controle the Moone; make flowes, and ebs,
And deale in her command, without her power:
These three haue robd me, and this demy-diuell;
(For he's a bastard one) had plotted with them
To take my life: two of these Fellowes, you
Must know, and owne, this Thing of darkenesse, I
Acknowledge mine
Cal. I shall be pincht to death
Alo. Is not this Stephano, my drunken Butler?
Seb. He is drunke now;
Where had he wine?
Alo. And Trinculo is reeling ripe: where should they
Finde this grand Liquor that hath gilded 'em?
How cam'st thou in this pickle?
Tri. I haue bin in such a pickle since I saw you last,
That I feare me will neuer out of my bones:
I shall not feare fly-blowing
Seb. Why how now Stephano?
Ste. O touch me not, I am not Stephano, but a Cramp
Pro. You'ld be King o'the Isle, Sirha?
Ste. I should haue bin a sore one then
Alo. This is a strange thing as ere I look'd on
Pro. He is as disproportion'd in his Manners
As in his shape: Goe Sirha, to my Cell,
Take with you your Companions: as you looke
To haue my pardon, trim it handsomely
Cal. I that I will: and Ile be wise hereafter,
And seeke for grace: what a thrice double Asse
Was I to take this drunkard for a god?
And worship this dull foole?
Pro. Goe to, away
Alo. Hence, and bestow your luggage where you found it
Seb. Or stole it rather
Pro. Sir, I inuite your Highnesse, and your traine
To my poore Cell: where you shall take your rest
For this one night, which part of it, Ile waste
With such discourse, as I not doubt, shall make it
Goe quicke away: The story of my life,
And the particular accidents, gon by
Since I came to this Isle: And in the morne
I'le bring you to your ship, and so to Naples,
Where I haue hope to see the nuptiall
Of these our deere-belou'd, solemnized,
And thence retire me to my Millaine, where
Euery third thought shall be my graue
Alo. I long
To heare the story of your life; which must
Take the eare strangely
Pro. I'le deliuer all,
And promise you calme Seas, auspicious gales,
And saile, so expeditious, that shall catch
Your Royall fleete farre off: My Ariel; chicke
That is thy charge: Then to the Elements
Be free, and fare thou well: please you draw neere.
Exeunt. omnes.
EPILOGVE, spoken by Prospero.
Now my Charmes are all ore-throwne,
And what strength I haue's mine owne.
Which is most faint: now 'tis true
I must be heere confinde by you,
Or sent to Naples, Let me not
Since I haue my Dukedome got,
And pardon'd the deceiuer, dwell
In this bare Island, by your Spell,
But release me from my bands
With the helpe of your good hands:
Gentle breath of yours, my Sailes
Must fill, or else my proiect failes,
Which was to please: Now I want
Spirits to enforce: Art to inchant,
And my ending is despaire,
Vnlesse I be relieu'd by praier
Which pierces so, that it assaults
Mercy it selfe, and frees all faults.
As you from crimes would pardon'd be,
Let your Indulgence set me free.
Enter.
The-, an vn-inhabited Island
Names of the Actors.
Alonso, K[ing]. of Naples:
Sebastian his Brother.
Prospero, the right Duke of Millaine.
Anthonio his brother, the vsurping Duke of Millaine.
Ferdinand, Son to the King of Naples.
Gonzalo, an honest old Councellor.
Adrian, & Francisco, Lords.
Caliban, a saluage and deformed slaue.
Trinculo, a Iester.
Stephano, a drunken Butler.
Master of a Ship.
Boate-Swaine.
Marriners.
Miranda, daughter to Prospero.
Ariell, an ayrie spirit.
Iris
Ceres
Iuno
Nymphes
Reapers
Spirits.
FINIS. THE TEMPEST.
The Two Gentlemen of Verona
Actus primus, Scena prima.
Valentine: Protheus, and Speed.
Valentine. Cease to perswade, my louing Protheus;
Home-keeping youth, haue euer homely wits,
Wer't not affection chaines thy tender dayes
To the sweet glaunces of thy honour'd Loue,
I rather would entreat thy company,
To see the wonders of the world abroad,
Then (liuing dully sluggardiz'd at home)
Weare out thy youth with shapelesse idlenesse.
But since thou lou'st; loue still, and thriue therein,
Euen as I would, when I to loue begin
Pro. Wilt thou be gone? Sweet Valentine adew,
Thinke on thy Protheus, when thou (hap'ly) seest
Some rare note-worthy obiect in thy trauaile.
Wish me partaker in thy happinesse,
When thou do'st meet good hap; and in thy danger,
(If euer danger doe enuiron thee)
Commend thy grieuance to my holy prayers,
For I will be thy beades-man, Valentine
Val. And on a loue-booke pray for my successe?
Pro. Vpon some booke I loue, I'le pray for thee
Val. That's on some shallow Storie of deepe loue,
How yong Leander crost the Hellespont
Pro. That's a deepe Storie, of a deeper loue,
For he was more then ouer-shooes in loue
Val. 'Tis true; for you are ouer-bootes in loue,
And yet you neuer swom the Hellespont
Pro. Ouer the Bootes? nay giue me not the Boots
Val. No, I will not; for it boots thee not
Pro. What?
Val. To be in loue; where scorne is bought with grones:
Coy looks, with hart-sore sighes: one fading moments mirth,
With twenty watchfull, weary, tedious nights;
If hap'ly won, perhaps a haplesse gaine;
If lost, why then a grieuous labour won;
How euer: but a folly bought with wit,
Or else a wit, by folly vanquished
Pro. So, by your circumstance, you call me foole
Val. So, by your circumstance, I feare you'll proue
Pro. 'Tis Loue you cauill at, I am not Loue
Val. Loue is your master, for he masters you;
And he that is so yoked by a foole,
Me thinkes should not be chronicled for wise
Pro. Yet Writers say; as in the sweetest Bud,
The eating Canker dwels; so eating Loue
Inhabits in the finest wits of all
Val. And Writers say; as the most forward Bud
Is eaten by the Canker ere it blow,
Euen so by Loue, the yong, and tender wit
Is turn'd to folly, blasting in the Bud,
Loosing his verdure, euen in the prime,
And all the faire effects of future hopes.
But wherefore waste I time to counsaile thee
That art a votary to fond desire?
Once more adieu: my Father at the Road
Expects my comming, there to see me ship'd
Pro. And thither will I bring thee Valentine
Val. Sweet Protheus, no: Now let vs take our leaue:
To Millaine let me heare from thee by Letters
Of thy successe in loue; and what newes else
Betideth here in absence of thy Friend:
And I likewise will visite thee with mine
Pro. All happinesse bechance to thee in Millaine
Val. As much to you at home: and so farewell.
Enter
Pro. He after Honour hunts, I after Loue;
He leaues his friends, to dignifie them more;
I loue my selfe, my friends, and all for loue:
Thou Iulia, thou hast metamorphis'd me:
Made me neglect my Studies, loose my time;
Warre with good counsaile; set the world at nought;
Made Wit with musing, weake; hart sick with thought
Sp. Sir Protheus: 'saue you: saw you my Master?
Pro. But now he parted hence to embarque for Millain
Sp. Twenty to one then, he is ship'd already,
And I haue plaid the Sheepe in loosing him
Pro. Indeede a Sheepe doth very often stray,
And if the Shepheard be awhile away
Sp. You conclude that my Master is a Shepheard then,
and I Sheepe?
Pro. I doe
Sp. Why then my hornes are his hornes, whether I wake or sleepe
Pro. A silly answere, and fitting well a Sheepe
Sp. This proues me still a Sheepe
Pro. True: and thy Master a Shepheard
Sp. Nay, that I can deny by a circumstance
Pro. It shall goe hard but ile proue it by another
Sp. The Shepheard seekes the Sheepe, and not the
Sheepe the Shepheard; but I seeke my Master, and my
Master seekes not me: therefore I am no Sheepe
Pro. The Sheepe for fodder follow the Shepheard, the Shepheard for foode followes not the Sheepe: thou for wages followest thy Master, thy Master for wages followes not thee: therefore thou art a Sheepe
Sp. Such another proofe will make me cry baa
Pro. But do'st thou heare: gau'st thou my Letter to Iulia?
Sp. I Sir: I (a lost-Mutton) gaue your Letter to her (a lac'd-Mutton) and she (a lac'd-Mutton) gaue mee (a lost-Mutton) nothing for my labour
Pro. Here's too small a Pasture for such store of
Muttons
Sp. If the ground be ouer-charg'd, you were best
sticke her
Pro. Nay, in that you are astray: 'twere best pound
you
Sp. Nay Sir, lesse then a pound shall serue me for carrying
your Letter
Pro. You mistake; I meane the pound, a Pinfold
Sp. From a pound to a pin? fold it ouer and ouer,
'Tis threefold too little for carrying a letter to your louer
Pro. But what said she?
Sp. I
Pro. Nod-I, why that's noddy
Sp. You mistooke Sir: I say she did nod;
And you aske me if she did nod, and I say I
Pro. And that set together is noddy
Sp. Now you haue taken the paines to set it together, take it for your paines
Pro. No, no, you shall haue it for bearing the letter
Sp. Well, I perceiue I must be faine to beare with you
Pro. Why Sir, how doe you beare with me?
Sp. Marry Sir, the letter very orderly,
Hauing nothing but the word noddy for my paines
Pro. Beshrew me, but you haue a quicke wit
Sp. And yet it cannot ouer-take your slow purse
Pro. Come, come, open the matter in briefe; what
said she
Sp. Open your purse, that the money, and the matter
may be both at once deliuered
Pro. Well Sir: here is for your paines: what said she?
Sp. Truely Sir, I thinke you'll hardly win her
Pro. Why? could'st thou perceiue so much from her?
Sp. Sir, I could perceiue nothing at all from her;
No, not so much as a ducket for deliuering your letter:
And being so hard to me, that brought your minde;
I feare she'll proue as hard to you in telling your minde.
Giue her no token but stones, for she's as hard as steele
Pro. What said she, nothing?
Sp. No, not so much as take this for thy pains:
To testifie your bounty, I thank you, you haue cestern'd me;
In requital whereof, henceforth, carry your letters your
selfe; And so Sir, I'le commend you to my Master
Pro. Go, go, be gone, to saue your Ship from wrack,
Which cannot perish hauing thee aboarde,
Being destin'd to a drier death on shore:
I must goe send some better Messenger,
I feare my Iulia would not daigne my lines,
Receiuing them from such a worthlesse post.
Enter.
Scoena Secunda.
Enter Iulia and Lucetta.
Iul. But say Lucetta (now we are alone)
Would'st thou then counsaile me to fall in loue?
Luc. I Madam, so you stumble not vnheedfully
Iul. Of all the faire resort of Gentlemen,
That euery day with par'le encounter me,
In thy opinion which is worthiest loue?
Lu. Please you repeat their names, ile shew my minde,
According to my shallow simple skill
Iu. What thinkst thou of the faire sir Eglamoure?
Lu. As of a Knight, well-spoken, neat, and fine;
But were I you, he neuer should be mine
Iu. What think'st thou of the rich Mercatio?
Lu. Well of his wealth; but of himselfe, so, so
Iu. What think'st thou of the gentle Protheus?
Lu. Lord, Lord: to see what folly raignes in vs
Iu. How now? what meanes this passion at his name?
Lu. Pardon deare Madam, 'tis a passing shame,
That I (vnworthy body as I am)
Should censure thus on louely Gentlemen
Iu. Why not on Protheus, as of all the rest?
Lu. Then thus: of many good, I thinke him best
Iul. Your reason?
Lu. I haue no other but a womans reason:
I thinke him so, because I thinke him so
Iul. And would'st thou haue me cast my loue on him?
Lu. I: if you thought your loue not cast away
Iul. Why he, of all the rest, hath neuer mou'd me
Lu. Yet he, of all the rest, I thinke best loues ye
Iul. His little speaking, shewes his loue but small
Lu. Fire that's closest kept, burnes most of all
Iul. They doe not loue, that doe not shew their loue
Lu. Oh, they loue least, that let men know their loue
Iul. I would I knew his minde
Lu. Peruse this paper Madam
Iul. To Iulia: say, from whom?
Lu. That the Contents will shew
Iul. Say, say: who gaue it thee?
Lu. Sir Valentines page: & sent I think from Protheus;
He would haue giuen it you, but I being in the way,
Did in your name receiue it: pardon the fault I pray
Iul. Now (by my modesty) a goodly Broker:
Dare you presume to harbour wanton lines?
To whisper, and conspire against my youth?
Now trust me, 'tis an office of great worth,
And you an officer fit for the place:
There: take the paper: see it be return'd,
Or else returne no more into my sight
Lu. To plead for loue, deserues more fee, then hate
Iul. Will ye be gon?
Lu. That you may ruminate.
Enter.
Iul. And yet I would I had ore-look'd the Letter;
It were a shame to call her backe againe,
And pray her to a fault, for which I chid her.
What 'foole is she, that knowes I am a Maid,
And would not force the letter to my view?
Since Maides, in modesty, say no, to that,
Which they would haue the profferer construe, I.
Fie, fie: how way-ward is this foolish loue;
That (like a testie Babe) will scratch the Nurse,
And presently, all humbled kisse the Rod?
How churlishly, I chid Lucetta hence,
When willingly, I would haue had her here?
How angerly I taught my brow to frowne,
When inward ioy enforc'd my heart to smile?
My pennance is, to call Lucetta backe
And aske remission, for my folly past.
What hoe: Lucetta
Lu. What would your Ladiship?
Iul. Is't neere dinner time?
Lu. I would it were,
That you might kill your stomacke on your meat,
And not vpon your Maid
Iu. What is't that you
Tooke vp so gingerly?
Lu. Nothing
Iu. Why didst thou stoope then?
Lu. To take a paper vp, that I let fall
Iul. And is that paper nothing?
Lu. Nothing concerning me
Iul. Then let it lye, for those that it concernes
Lu. Madam, it will not lye where it concernes,
Vnlesse it haue a false Interpreter
Iul. Some loue of yours, hath writ to you in Rime
Lu. That I might sing it (Madam) to a tune:
Giue me a Note, your Ladiship can set
Iul. As little by such toyes, as may be possible:
Best sing it to the tune of Light O, Loue
Lu. It is too heauy for so light a tune
Iu. Heauy? belike it hath some burden then?
Lu. I: and melodious were it, would you sing it,
Iu. And why not you?
Lu. I cannot reach so high
Iu. Let's see your Song:
How now Minion?
Lu. Keepe tune there still; so you will sing it out:
And yet me thinkes I do not like this tune
Iu. You doe not?
Lu. No (Madam) tis too sharpe
Iu. You (Minion) are too saucie
Lu. Nay, now you are too flat;
And marre the concord, with too harsh a descant:
There wanteth but a Meane to fill your Song
Iu. The meane is dround with you vnruly base
Lu. Indeede I bid the base for Protheus
Iu. This babble shall not henceforth trouble me;
Here is a coile with protestation:
Goe, get you gone: and let the papers lye:
You would be fingring them, to anger me
Lu. She makes it stra[n]ge, but she would be best pleas'd
To be so angred with another Letter
Iu. Nay, would I were so angred with the same:
Oh hatefull hands, to teare such louing words;
Iniurious Waspes, to feede on such sweet hony,
And kill the Bees that yeelde it, with your stings;
Ile kisse each seuerall paper, for amends:
Looke, here is writ, kinde Iulia: vnkinde Iulia,
As in reuenge of thy ingratitude,
I throw thy name against the bruzing-stones,
Trampling contemptuously on thy disdaine.
And here is writ, Loue wounded Protheus.
Poore wounded name: my bosome, as a bed,
Shall lodge thee till thy wound be throughly heal'd;
And thus I search it with a soueraigne kisse.
But twice, or thrice, was Protheus written downe:
Be calme (good winde) blow not a word away,
Till I haue found each letter, in the Letter,
Except mine own name: That, some whirle-winde beare
Vnto a ragged, fearefull, hanging Rocke,
And throw it thence into the raging Sea.
Loe, here in one line is his name twice writ:
Poore forlorne Protheus, passionate Protheus:
To the sweet Iulia: that ile teare away:
And yet I will not, sith so prettily
He couples it, to his complaining Names;
Thus will I fold them, one vpon another;
Now kisse, embrace, contend, doe what you will
Lu. Madam: dinner is ready: and your father staies
Iu. Well, let vs goe
Lu. What, shall these papers lye, like Tel-tales here?
Iu. If you respect them; best to take them vp
Lu. Nay, I was taken vp, for laying them downe.
Yet here they shall not lye, for catching cold
Iu. I see you haue a months minde to them
Lu. I (Madam) you may say what sights you see;
I see things too, although you iudge I winke
Iu. Come, come, wilt please you goe.
Exeunt.
Scoena Tertia.
Enter Antonio and Panthino. Protheus.
Ant. Tell me Panthino, what sad talke was that,
Wherewith my brother held you in the Cloyster?
Pan. 'Twas of his Nephew Protheus, your Sonne
Ant. Why? what of him?
Pan. He wondred that your Lordship
Would suffer him, to spend his youth at home,
While other men, of slender reputation
Put forth their Sonnes, to seeke preferment out.
Some to the warres, to try their fortune there;
Some, to discouer Islands farre away:
Some, to the studious Vniuersities;
For any, or for all these exercises,
He said, that Protheus, your sonne, was meet;
And did request me, to importune you
To let him spend his time no more at home;
Which would be great impeachment to his age,
In hauing knowne no trauaile in his youth
Ant. Nor need'st thou much importune me to that
Whereon, this month I haue bin hamering.
I haue consider'd well, his losse of time,
And how he cannot be a perfect man,
Not being tryed, and tutord in the world:
Experience is by industry atchieu'd,
And perfected by the swift course of time:
Then tell me, whether were I best to send him?
Pan. I thinke your Lordship is not ignorant
How his companion, youthfull Valentine,
Attends the Emperour in his royall Court
Ant. I know it well
Pan. 'Twere good, I thinke, your Lordship sent him
(thither,
There shall he practise Tilts, and Turnaments;
Heare sweet discourse, conuerse with Noble-men,
And be in eye of euery Exercise
Worthy his youth, and noblenesse of birth
Ant. I like thy counsaile: well hast thou aduis'd:
And that thou maist perceiue how well I like it,
The execution of it shall make knowne;
Euen with the speediest expedition,
I will dispatch him to the Emperors Court
Pan. To morrow, may it please you, Don Alphonso,
With other Gentlemen of good esteeme
Are iournying, to salute the Emperor,
And to commend their seruice to his will
Ant. Good company: with them shall Protheus go:
And in good time: now will we breake with him
Pro. Sweet Loue, sweet lines, sweet life,
Here is her hand, the agent of her heart;
Here is her oath for loue, her honors paune;
O that our Fathers would applaud our loues
To seale our happinesse with their consents
Pro. Oh heauenly Iulia
Ant. How now? What Letter are you reading there?
Pro. May't please your Lordship, 'tis a word or two
Of commendations sent from Valentine;
Deliuer'd by a friend, that came from him
Ant. Lend me the Letter: Let me see what newes
Pro. There is no newes (my Lord) but that he writes
How happily he liues, how well-belou'd,
And daily graced by the Emperor;
Wishing me with him, partner of his fortune
Ant. And how stand you affected to his wish?
Pro. As one relying on your Lordships will,
And not depending on his friendly wish
Ant. My will is something sorted with his wish:
Muse not that I thus sodainly proceed;
For what I will, I will, and there an end:
I am resolu'd, that thou shalt spend some time
With Valentinus, in the Emperors Court:
What maintenance he from his friends receiues,
Like exhibition thou shalt haue from me,
To morrow be in readinesse, to goe,
Excuse it not: for I am peremptory
Pro. My Lord I cannot be so soone prouided,
Please you deliberate a day or two
Ant. Look what thou want'st shalbe sent after thee:
No more of stay: to morrow thou must goe;
Come on Panthino; you shall be imployd,
To hasten on his Expedition
Pro. Thus haue I shund the fire, for feare of burning,
And drench'd me in the sea, where I am drown'd.
I fear'd to shew my Father Iulias Letter,
Least he should take exceptions to my loue,
And with the vantage of mine owne excuse
Hath he excepted most against my loue.
Oh, how this spring of loue resembleth
The vncertaine glory of an Aprill day,
Which now shewes all the beauty of the Sun,
And by and by a clowd takes all away
Pan. Sir Protheus, your Fathers call's for you,
He is in hast, therefore I pray you go
Pro. Why this it is: my heart accords thereto,
And yet a thousand times it answer's no.
Exeunt. Finis.
Actus secundus: Scoena Prima.
Enter Valentine, Speed, Siluia
Speed. Sir, your Gloue
Valen. Not mine: my Gloues are on
Sp. Why then this may be yours: for this is but one
Val. Ha? Let me see: I, giue it me, it's mine:
Sweet Ornament, that deckes a thing diuine,
Ah Siluia, Siluia
Speed. Madam Siluia: Madam Siluia
Val. How now Sirha?
Speed. Shee is not within hearing Sir
Val. Why sir, who bad you call her?
Speed. Your worship sir, or else I mistooke
Val. Well: you'll still be too forward
Speed. And yet I was last chidden for being too slow
Val. Goe to, sir, tell me: do you know Madam Siluia? Speed. Shee that your worship loues? Val. Why, how know you that I am in loue? Speed. Marry by these speciall markes: first, you haue learn'd (like Sir Protheus) to wreath your Armes like a Male-content: to rellish a Loue-song, like a Robin-redbreast: to walke alone like one that had the pestilence: to sigh, like a Schoole-boy that had lost his A.B.C. to weep like a yong wench that had buried her Grandam: to fast, like one that takes diet: to watch, like one that feares robbing: to speake puling, like a beggar at Hallow-Masse: You were wont, when you laughed, to crow like a cocke; when you walk'd, to walke like one of the Lions: when you fasted, it was presently after dinner: when you look'd sadly, it was for want of money: And now you are Metamorphis'd with a Mistris, that when I looke on you, I can hardly thinke you my Master
Val. Are all these things perceiu'd in me?
Speed. They are all perceiu'd without ye
Val. Without me? they cannot
Speed. Without you? nay, that's certaine: for without you were so simple, none else would: but you are so without these follies, that these follies are within you, and shine through you like the water in an Vrinall: that not an eye that sees you, but is a Physician to comment on your Malady
Val. But tell me: do'st thou know my Lady Siluia?
Speed. Shee that you gaze on so, as she sits at supper?
Val. Hast thou obseru'd that? euen she I meane
Speed. Why sir, I know her not
Val. Do'st thou know her by my gazing on her, and
yet know'st her not?
Speed. Is she not hard-fauour'd, sir?
Val. Not so faire (boy) as well fauour'd
Speed. Sir, I know that well enough
Val. What dost thou know?
Speed. That shee is not so faire, as (of you) well-fauourd?
Val. I meane that her beauty is exquisite,
But her fauour infinite
Speed. That's because the one is painted, and the other
out of all count
Val. How painted? and how out of count?
Speed. Marry sir, so painted to make her faire, that no
man counts of her beauty
Val. How esteem'st thou me? I account of her beauty
Speed. You neuer saw her since she was deform'd
Val. How long hath she beene deform'd?
Speed. Euer since you lou'd her
Val. I haue lou'd her euer since I saw her,
And still I see her beautifull
Speed. If you loue her, you cannot see her
Val. Why?
Speed. Because Loue is blinde: O that you had mine
eyes, or your owne eyes had the lights they were wont
to haue, when you chidde at Sir Protheus, for going vngarter'd
Val. What should I see then? Speed. Your owne present folly, and her passing deformitie: for hee beeing in loue, could not see to garter his hose; and you, beeing in loue, cannot see to put on your hose
Val. Belike (boy) then you are in loue, for last morning
You could not see to wipe my shooes
Speed. True sir: I was in loue with my bed, I thanke you, you swing'd me for my loue, which makes mee the bolder to chide you, for yours
Val. In conclusion, I stand affected to her
Speed. I would you were set, so your affection would
cease
Val. Last night she enioyn'd me,
To write some lines to one she loues
Speed. And haue you?
Val. I haue
Speed. Are they not lamely writt?
Val. No (Boy) but as well as I can do them:
Peace, here she comes
Speed. Oh excellent motion; oh exceeding Puppet:
Now will he interpret to her
Val. Madam & Mistres, a thousand good-morrows
Speed. Oh, 'giue ye-good-ev'n: heer's a million of manners
Sil. Sir Valentine, and seruant, to you two thousand
Speed. He should giue her interest: & she giues it him
Val. As you inioynd me; I haue writ your Letter
Vnto the secret, nameles friend of yours:
Which I was much vnwilling to proceed in,
But for my duty to your Ladiship
Sil. I thanke you (gentle Seruant) 'tis very Clerklydone
Val. Now trust me (Madam) it came hardly-off:
For being ignorant to whom it goes,
I writ at randome, very doubtfully
Sil. Perchance you think too much of so much pains?
Val. No (Madam) so it steed you, I will write
(Please you command) a thousand times as much:
And yet -
Sil. A pretty period: well: I ghesse the sequell;
And yet I will not name it: and yet I care not.
And yet, take this againe: and yet I thanke you:
Meaning henceforth to trouble you no more
Speed. And yet you will: and yet, another yet
Val. What meanes your Ladiship?
Doe you not like it?
Sil. Yes, yes: the lines are very queintly writ,
But (since vnwillingly) take them againe.
Nay, take them
Val. Madam, they are for you
Silu. I, I: you writ them Sir, at my request,
But I will none of them: they are for you:
I would haue had them writ more mouingly:
Val. Please you, Ile write your Ladiship another
Sil. And when it's writ: for my sake read it ouer,
And if it please you, so: if not: why so:
Val. If it please me, (Madam?) what then?
Sil. Why if it please you, take it for your labour;
And so good-morrow Seruant.
Exit. Sil.
Speed. Oh Iest vnseene: inscrutible: inuisible,
As a nose on a mans face, or a Wethercocke on a steeple:
My Master sues to her: and she hath taught her Sutor,
He being her Pupill, to become her Tutor.
Oh excellent deuise, was there euer heard a better?
That my master being scribe,
To himselfe should write the Letter?
Val. How now Sir?
What are you reasoning with your selfe?
Speed. Nay: I was riming: 'tis you y haue the reason
Val. To doe what?
Speed. To be a Spokes-man from Madam Siluia
Val. To whom?
Speed. To your selfe: why, she woes you by a figure
Val. What figure?
Speed. By a Letter, I should say
Val. Why she hath not writ to me?
Speed. What need she,
When shee hath made you write to your selfe?
Why, doe you not perceiue the iest?
Val. No, beleeue me
Speed. No beleeuing you indeed sir:
But did you perceiue her earnest?
Val. She gaue me none, except an angry word
Speed. Why she hath giuen you a Letter
Val. That's the Letter I writ to her friend
Speed. And y letter hath she deliuer'd, & there an end
Val. I would it were no worse
Speed. Ile warrant you, 'tis as well:
For often haue you writ to her: and she in modesty,
Or else for want of idle time, could not againe reply,
Or fearing els some messe[n]ger, y might her mind discouer
Her self hath taught her Loue himself, to write vnto her louer.
All this I speak in print, for in print I found it.
Why muse you sir, 'tis dinner time
Val. I haue dyn'd
Speed. I, but hearken sir: though the Cameleon Loue can feed on the ayre, I am one that am nourish'd by my victuals; and would faine haue meate: oh bee not like your Mistresse, be moued, be moued.
Exeunt.
Scoena secunda.
Enter Protheus, Iulia, Panthion.
Pro. Haue patience, gentle Iulia:
Iul. I must where is no remedy
Pro. When possibly I can, I will returne
Iul. If you turne not: you will return the sooner:
Keepe this remembrance for thy Iulia's sake
Pro. Why then wee'll make exchange;
Here, take you this
Iul. And seale the bargaine with a holy kisse
Pro. Here is my hand, for my true constancie:
And when that howre ore-slips me in the day,
Wherein I sigh not (Iulia) for thy sake,
The next ensuing howre, some foule mischance
Torment me for my Loues forgetfulnesse:
My father staies my comming: answere not:
The tide is now; nay, not thy tide of teares,
That tide will stay me longer then I should,
Iulia, farewell: what, gon without a word?
I, so true loue should doe: it cannot speake,
For truth hath better deeds, then words to grace it
Panth. Sir Protheus: you are staid for
Pro. Goe: I come, I come:
Alas, this parting strikes poore Louers dumbe.
Exeunt.
Scoena Tertia.
Enter Launce, Panthion.
Launce. Nay, 'twill bee this howre ere I haue done weeping: all the kinde of the Launces, haue this very fault: I haue receiu'd my proportion, like the prodigious Sonne, and am going with Sir Protheus to the Imperialls Court: I thinke Crab my dog, be the sowrest natured dogge that liues: My Mother weeping: my Father wayling: my Sister crying: our Maid howling: our Catte wringing her hands, and all our house in a great perplexitie, yet did not this cruell-hearted Curre shedde one teare: he is a stone, a very pibble stone, and has no more pitty in him then a dogge: a Iew would haue wept to haue seene our parting: why my Grandam hauing no eyes, looke you, wept her selfe blinde at my parting: nay, Ile shew you the manner of it. This shooe is my father: no, this left shooe is my father; no, no, this left shooe is my mother: nay, that cannot bee so neyther: yes; it is so, it is so: it hath the worser sole: this shooe with the hole in it, is my mother: and this my father: a veng'ance on't, there 'tis: Now sir, this staffe is my sister: for, looke you, she is as white as a lilly, and as small as a wand: this hat is Nan our maid: I am the dogge: no, the dogge is himselfe, and I am the dogge: oh, the dogge is me, and I am my selfe: I; so, so: now come I to my Father; Father, your blessing: now should not the shooe speake a word for weeping: now should I kisse my Father; well, hee weepes on: Now come I to my Mother: Oh that she could speake now, like a would-woman: well, I kisse her: why there 'tis; heere's my mothers breath vp and downe: Now come I to my sister; marke the moane she makes: now the dogge all this while sheds not a teare: nor speakes a word: but see how I lay the dust with my teares
Panth. Launce, away, away: a Boord: thy Master is ship'd, and thou art to post after with oares; what's the matter? why weep'st thou man? away asse, you'l loose the Tide, if you tarry any longer
Laun. It is no matter if the tide were lost, for it is the
vnkindest Tide, that euer any man tide
Panth. What's the vnkindest tide?
Lau. Why, he that's tide here, Crab my dog
Pant. Tut, man: I meane thou'lt loose the flood, and in loosing the flood, loose thy voyage, and in loosing thy voyage, loose thy Master, and in loosing thy Master, loose thy seruice, and in loosing thy seruice: - why dost thou stop my mouth? Laun. For feare thou shouldst loose thy tongue
Panth. Where should I loose my tongue?
Laun. In thy Tale
Panth. In thy Taile
Laun. Loose the Tide, and the voyage, and the Master, and the Seruice, and the tide: why man, if the Riuer were drie, I am able to fill it with my teares: if the winde were downe, I could driue the boate with my sighes
Panth. Come: come away man, I was sent to call thee
Lau. Sir: call me what thou dar'st
Pant. Wilt thou goe?
Laun. Well, I will goe.
Exeunt.
Scena Quarta.
Enter Valentine, Siluia, Thurio, Speed, Duke, Protheus.
Sil. Seruant
Val. Mistris
Spee. Master, Sir Thurio frownes on you
Val. I Boy, it's for loue
Spee. Not of you
Val. Of my Mistresse then
Spee. 'Twere good you knockt him
Sil. Seruant, you are sad
Val. Indeed, Madam, I seeme so
Thu. Seeme you that you are not?
Val. Hap'ly I doe
Thu. So doe Counterfeyts
Val. So doe you
Thu. What seeme I that I am not?
Val. Wise
Thu. What instance of the contrary?
Val. Your folly
Thu. And how quoat you my folly?
Val. I quoat it in your Ierkin
Thu. My Ierkin is a doublet
Val. Well then, Ile double your folly
Thu. How?
Sil. What, angry, Sir Thurio, do you change colour?
Val. Giue him leaue, Madam, he is a kind of Camelion
Thu. That hath more minde to feed on your bloud,
then liue in your ayre
Val. You haue said Sir
Thu. I Sir, and done too for this time
Val. I know it wel sir, you alwaies end ere you begin
Sil. A fine volly of words, gentleme[n], & quickly shot off
Val. 'Tis indeed, Madam, we thank the giuer
Sil. Who is that Seruant?
Val. Your selfe (sweet Lady) for you gaue the fire,
Sir Thurio borrows his wit from your Ladiships lookes,
And spends what he borrowes kindly in your company
Thu. Sir, if you spend word for word with me, I shall
make your wit bankrupt
Val. I know it well sir: you haue an Exchequer of words,
And I thinke, no other treasure to giue your followers:
For it appeares by their bare Liueries
That they liue by your bare words
Sil. No more, gentlemen, no more:
Here comes my father
Duk. Now, daughter Siluia, you are hard beset.
Sir Valentine, your father is in good health,
What say you to a Letter from your friends
Of much good newes?
Val. My Lord, I will be thankfull,
To any happy messenger from thence
Duk. Know ye Don Antonio, your Countriman?
Val. I, my good Lord, I know the Gentleman
To be of worth, and worthy estimation,
And not without desert so well reputed
Duk. Hath he not a Sonne?
Val. I, my good Lord, a Son, that well deserues
The honor, and regard of such a father
Duk. You know him well?
Val. I knew him as my selfe: for from our Infancie
We haue conuerst, and spent our howres together,
And though my selfe haue beene an idle Trewant,
Omitting the sweet benefit of time
To cloath mine age with Angel-like perfection:
Yet hath Sir Protheus (for that's his name)
Made vse, and faire aduantage of his daies:
His yeares but yong, but his experience old:
His head vn-mellowed, but his Iudgement ripe;
And in a word (for far behinde his worth
Comes all the praises that I now bestow.)
He is compleat in feature, and in minde,
With all good grace, to grace a Gentleman
Duk. Beshrew me sir, but if he make this good
He is as worthy for an Empresse loue,
As meet to be an Emperors Councellor:
Well, Sir: this Gentleman is come to me
With Commendation from great Potentates,
And heere he meanes to spend his time a while,
I thinke 'tis no vn-welcome newes to you
Val. Should I haue wish'd a thing, it had beene he
Duk. Welcome him then according to his worth:
Siluia, I speake to you, and you Sir Thurio,
For Valentine, I need not cite him to it,
I will send him hither to you presently
Val. This is the Gentleman I told your Ladiship
Had come along with me, but that his Mistresse
Did hold his eyes, lockt in her Christall lookes
Sil. Be-like that now she hath enfranchis'd them
Vpon some other pawne for fealty
Val. Nay sure, I thinke she holds them prisoners stil
Sil. Nay then he should be blind, and being blind
How could he see his way to seeke out you?
Val. Why Lady, Loue hath twenty paire of eyes
Thur. They say that Loue hath not an eye at all
Val. To see such Louers, Thurio, as your selfe,
Vpon a homely obiect, Loue can winke
Sil. Haue done, haue done: here comes y gentleman
Val. Welcome, deer Protheus: Mistris, I beseech you
Confirme his welcome, with some speciall fauor
Sil. His worth is warrant for his welcome hether,
If this be he you oft haue wish'd to heare from
Val. Mistris, it is: sweet Lady, entertaine him
To be my fellow-seruant to your Ladiship
Sil. Too low a Mistres for so high a seruant
Pro. Not so, sweet Lady, but too meane a seruant
To haue a looke of such a worthy a Mistresse
Val. Leaue off discourse of disabilitie:
Sweet Lady, entertaine him for your Seruant
Pro. My dutie will I boast of, nothing else
Sil. And dutie neuer yet did want his meed.
Seruant, you are welcome to a worthlesse Mistresse
Pro. Ile die on him that saies so but your selfe
Sil. That you are welcome?
Pro. That you are worthlesse
Thur. Madam, my Lord your father wold speak with you
Sil. I wait vpon his pleasure: Come Sir Thurio,
Goe with me: once more, new Seruant welcome;
Ile leaue you to confer of home affaires,
When you haue done, we looke too heare from you
Pro. Wee'll both attend vpon your Ladiship
Val. Now tell me: how do al from whence you came?
Pro. Your frends are wel, & haue the[m] much co[m]mended
Val. And how doe yours?
Pro. I left them all in health
Val. How does your Lady? & how thriues your loue?
Pro. My tales of Loue were wont to weary you,
I know you ioy not in a Loue-discourse
Val. I Protheus, but that life is alter'd now,
I haue done pennance for contemning Loue,
Whose high emperious thoughts haue punish'd me
With bitter fasts, with penitentiall grones,
With nightly teares, and daily hart-sore sighes,
For in reuenge of my contempt of loue,
Loue hath chas'd sleepe from my enthralled eyes,
And made them watchers of mine owne hearts sorrow.
O gentle Protheus, Loue's a mighty Lord,
And hath so humbled me, as I confesse
There is no woe to his correction,
Nor to his Seruice, no such ioy on earth:
Now, no discourse, except it be of loue:
Now can I breake my fast, dine, sup, and sleepe,
Vpon the very naked name of Loue
Pro. Enough; I read your fortune in your eye:
Was this the Idoll, that you worship so?
Val. Euen She; and is she not a heauenly Saint?
Pro. No; But she is an earthly Paragon
Val. Call her diuine
Pro. I will not flatter her
Val. O flatter me: for Loue delights in praises
Pro. When I was sick, you gaue me bitter pils,
And I must minister the like to you
Val. Then speake the truth by her; if not diuine,
Yet let her be a principalitie,
Soueraigne to all the Creatures on the earth
Pro. Except my Mistresse
Val. Sweet: except not any,
Except thou wilt except against my Loue
Pro. Haue I not reason to prefer mine owne?
Val. And I will help thee to prefer her to:
Shee shall be dignified with this high honour,
To beare my Ladies traine, lest the base earth
Should from her vesture chance to steale a kisse,
And of so great a fauor growing proud,
Disdaine to roote the Sommer-swelling flowre,
And make rough winter euerlastingly
Pro. Why Valentine, what Bragadisme is this?
Val. Pardon me (Protheus) all I can is nothing,
To her, whose worth, make other worthies nothing;
Shee is alone
Pro. Then let her alone
Val. Not for the world: why man, she is mine owne,
And I as rich in hauing such a Iewell
As twenty Seas, if all their sand were pearle,
The water, Nectar, and the Rocks pure gold.
Forgiue me, that I doe not dreame on thee,
Because thou seest me doate vpon my loue:
My foolish Riuall that her Father likes
(Onely for his possessions are so huge)
Is gone with her along, and I must after,
For Loue (thou know'st is full of iealousie.)
Pro. But she loues you?
Val. I, and we are betroathd: nay more, our mariage howre,
With all the cunning manner of our flight
Determin'd of: how I must climbe her window,
The Ladder made of Cords, and all the means
Plotted, and 'greed on for my happinesse.
Good Protheus goe with me to my chamber,
In these affaires to aid me with thy counsaile
Pro. Goe on before: I shall enquire you forth:
I must vnto the Road, to dis-embarque
Some necessaries, that I needs must vse,
And then Ile presently attend you
Val. Will you make haste?
Enter.
Pro. I will.
Euen as one heate, another heate expels,
Or as one naile, by strength driues out another.
So the remembrance of my former Loue
Is by a newer obiect quite forgotten,
It is mine, or Valentines praise?
Her true perfection, or my false transgression?
That makes me reasonlesse, to reason thus?
Shee is faire: and so is Iulia that I loue,
(That I did loue, for now my loue is thaw'd,
Which like a waxen Image 'gainst a fire
Beares no impression of the thing it was.)
Me thinkes my zeale to Valentine is cold,
And that I loue him not as I was wont:
O, but I loue his Lady too-too much,
And that's the reason I loue him so little.
How shall I doate on her with more aduice,
That thus without aduice begin to loue her?
'Tis but her picture I haue yet beheld,
And that hath dazel'd my reasons light:
But when I looke on her perfections,
There is no reason, but I shall be blinde.
If I can checke my erring loue, I will,
If not, to compasse her Ile vse my skill.
Exeunt.
Scena Quinta.
Enter Speed and Launce.
Speed. Launce, by mine honesty welcome to Padua
Laun. Forsweare not thy selfe, sweet youth, for I am not welcome. I reckon this alwaies, that a man is neuer vndon till hee be hang'd, nor neuer welcome to a place, till some certaine shot be paid, and the Hostesse say welcome
Speed. Come-on you mad-cap: Ile to the Ale-house with you presently; where, for one shot of fiue pence, thou shalt haue fiue thousand welcomes: But sirha, how did thy Master part with Madam Iulia? Lau. Marry after they cloas'd in earnest, they parted very fairely in iest
Spee. But shall she marry him?
Lau. No
Spee. How then? shall he marry her?
Lau. No, neither
Spee. What, are they broken?
Lau. No; they are both as whole as a fish
Spee. Why then, how stands the matter with them?
Lau. Marry thus, when it stands well with him, it
stands well with her
Spee. What an asse art thou, I vnderstand thee not
Lau. What a blocke art thou, that thou canst not?
My staffe vnderstands me?
Spee. What thou saist?
Lau. I, and what I do too: looke thee, Ile but leane,
and my staffe vnderstands me
Spee. It stands vnder thee indeed
Lau. Why, stand-vnder: and vnder-stand is all one
Spee. But tell me true, wil't be a match?
Lau. Aske my dogge, if he say I, it will: if hee say
no, it will: if hee shake his taile, and say nothing, it
will
Spee. The conclusion is then, that it will
Lau. Thou shalt neuer get such a secret from me, but
by a parable
Spee. 'Tis well that I get it so: but Launce, how saist
thou that that my master is become a notable Louer?
Lau. I neuer knew him otherwise
Spee. Then how?
Lau. A notable Lubber: as thou reportest him to
bee
Spee. Why, thou whorson Asse, thou mistak'st me,
Lau. Why Foole, I meant not thee, I meant thy
Master
Spee. I tell thee, my Master is become a hot Louer
Lau. Why, I tell thee, I care not, though hee burne himselfe in Loue. If thou wilt goe with me to the Alehouse: if not, thou art an Hebrew, a Iew, and not worth the name of a Christian
Spee. Why?
Lau. Because thou hast not so much charity in thee as
to goe to the Ale with a Christian: Wilt thou goe?
Spee. At thy seruice.
Exeunt.
Scoena Sexta.
Enter Protheus solus.
Pro. To leaue my Iulia; shall I be forsworne?
To loue faire Siluia; shall I be forsworne?
To wrong my friend, I shall be much forsworne.
And ev'n that Powre which gaue me first my oath
Prouokes me to this three-fold periurie.
Loue bad mee sweare, and Loue bids me for-sweare;
O sweet-suggesting Loue, if thou hast sin'd,
Teach me (thy tempted subiect) to excuse it.
At first I did adore a twinkling Starre,
But now I worship a celestiall Sunne:
Vn-heedfull vowes may heedfully be broken,
And he wants wit, that wants resolued will,
To learne his wit, t' exchange the bad for better;
Fie, fie, vnreuerend tongue, to call her bad,
Whose soueraignty so oft thou hast preferd,
With twenty thousand soule-confirming oathes.
I cannot leaue to loue; and yet I doe:
But there I leaue to loue, where I should loue.
Iulia I loose, and Valentine I loose,
If I keepe them, I needs must loose my selfe:
If I loose them, thus finde I by their losse,
For Valentine, my selfe: for Iulia, Siluia.
I to my selfe am deerer then a friend,
For Loue is still most precious in it selfe,
And Siluia (witnesse heauen that made her faire)
Shewes Iulia but a swarthy Ethiope.
I will forget that Iulia is aliue,
Remembring that my Loue to her is dead.
And Valentine Ile hold an Enemie,
Ayming at Siluia as a sweeter friend.
I cannot now proue constant to my selfe,
Without some treachery vs'd to Valentine.
This night he meaneth with a Corded-ladder
To climbe celestiall Siluia's chamber window,
My selfe in counsaile his competitor.
Now presently Ile giue her father notice
Of their disguising and pretended flight:
Who (all inrag'd) will banish Valentine:
For Thurio he intends shall wed his daughter,
But Valentine being gon, Ile quickely crosse
By some slie tricke, blunt Thurio's dull proceeding.
Loue lend me wings, to make my purpose swift
As thou hast lent me wit, to plot this drift.
Enter.
Scoena septima.
Enter Iulia and Lucetta.
Iul. Counsaile, Lucetta, gentle girle assist me,
And eu'n in kinde loue, I doe coniure thee,
Who art the Table wherein all my thoughts
Are visibly Character'd, and engrau'd,
To lesson me, and tell me some good meane
How with my honour I may vndertake
A iourney to my louing Protheus
Luc. Alas, the way is wearisome and long
Iul. A true-deuoted Pilgrime is not weary
To measure Kingdomes with his feeble steps,
Much lesse shall she that hath Loues wings to flie,
And when the flight is made to one so deere,
Of such diuine perfection as Sir Protheus
Luc. Better forbeare, till Protheus make returne
Iul. Oh, know'st y not, his looks are my soules food?
Pitty the dearth that I haue pined in,
By longing for that food so long a time.
Didst thou but know the inly touch of Loue,
Thou wouldst as soone goe kindle fire with snow
As seeke to quench the fire of Loue with words
Luc. I doe not seeke to quench your Loues hot fire,
But qualifie the fires extreame rage,
Lest it should burne aboue the bounds of reason
Iul. The more thou dam'st it vp, the more it burnes:
The Current that with gentle murmure glides
(Thou know'st) being stop'd, impatiently doth rage:
But when his faire course is not hindered,
He makes sweet musicke with th' enameld stones,
Giuing a gentle kisse to euery sedge
He ouer-taketh in his pilgrimage.
And so by many winding nookes he straies
With willing sport to the wilde Ocean.
Then let me goe, and hinder not my course:
Ile be as patient as a gentle streame,
And make a pastime of each weary step,
Till the last step haue brought me to my Loue,
And there Ile rest, as after much turmoile
A blessed soule doth in Elizium
Luc. But in what habit will you goe along?
Iul. Not like a woman, for I would preuent
The loose encounters of lasciuious men:
Gentle Lucetta, fit me with such weedes
As may beseeme some well reputed Page
Luc. Why then your Ladiship must cut your haire
Iul. No girle, Ile knit it vp in silken strings,
With twentie od-conceited true-loue knots:
To be fantastique, may become a youth
Of greater time then I shall shew to be
Luc. What fashion (Madam) shall I make your breeches?
Iul. That fits as well, as tell me (good my Lord)
What compasse will you weare your Farthingale?
Why eu'n what fashion thou best likes (Lucetta.)
Luc. You must needs haue the[m] with a cod-peece Ma[dam]
Iul. Out, out, (Lucetta) that wilbe illfauourd
Luc. A round hose (Madam) now's not worth a pin
Vnlesse you haue a cod-peece to stick pins on
Iul. Lucetta, as thou lou'st me let me haue
What thou think'st meet, and is most mannerly.
But tell me (wench) how will the world repute me
For vndertaking so vnstaid a iourney?
I feare me it will make me scandaliz'd
Luc. If you thinke so, then stay at home, and go not
Iul. Nay, that I will not
Luc. Then neuer dreame on Infamy, but go:
If Protheus like your iourney, when you come,
No matter who's displeas'd, when you are gone:
I feare me he will scarce be pleas'd with all
Iul. That is the least (Lucetta) of my feare:
A thousand oathes, an Ocean of his teares,
And instances of infinite of Loue,
Warrant me welcome to my Protheus
Luc. All these are seruants to deceitfull men
Iul. Base men, that vse them to so base effect;
But truer starres did gouerne Protheus birth,
His words are bonds, his oathes are oracles,
His loue sincere, his thoughts immaculate,
His teares, pure messengers, sent from his heart,
His heart, as far from fraud, as heauen from earth
Luc. Pray heau'n he proue so when you come to him
Iul. Now, as thou lou'st me, do him not that wrong,
To beare a hard opinion of his truth:
Onely deserue my loue, by louing him,
And presently goe with me to my chamber
To take a note of what I stand in need of,
To furnish me vpon my longing iourney:
All that is mine I leaue at thy dispose,
My goods, my Lands, my reputation,
Onely, in lieu thereof, dispatch me hence:
Come; answere not: but to it presently,
I am impatient of my tarriance.
Exeunt.
Actus Tertius, Scena Prima.
Enter Duke, Thurio, Protheus, Valentine, Launce, Speed.
Duke. Sir Thurio, giue vs leaue (I pray) a while,
We haue some secrets to confer about.
Now tell me Protheus, what's your will with me?
Pro. My gracious Lord, that which I wold discouer,
The Law of friendship bids me to conceale,
But when I call to minde your gracious fauours
Done to me (vndeseruing as I am)
My dutie pricks me on to vtter that
Which else, no worldly good should draw from me:
Know (worthy Prince) Sir Valentine my friend
This night intends to steale away your daughter:
My selfe am one made priuy to the plot.
I know you haue determin'd to bestow her
On Thurio, whom your gentle daughter hates,
And should she thus be stolne away from you,
It would be much vexation to your age.
Thus (for my duties sake) I rather chose
To crosse my friend in his intended drift,
Then (by concealing it) heap on your head
A pack of sorrowes, which would presse you downe
(Being vnpreuented) to your timelesse graue
Duke. Protheus, I thank thee for thine honest care,
Which to requite, command me while I liue.
This loue of theirs, my selfe haue often seene,
Haply when they haue iudg'd me fast asleepe,
And oftentimes haue purpos'd to forbid
Sir Valentine her companie, and my Court.
But fearing lest my iealous ayme might erre,
And so (vnworthily) disgrace the man
(A rashnesse that I euer yet haue shun'd)
I gaue him gentle lookes, thereby to finde
That which thy selfe hast now disclos'd to me.
And that thou maist perceiue my feare of this,
Knowing that tender youth is soone suggested,
I nightly lodge her in an vpper Towre,
The key whereof, my selfe haue euer kept:
And thence she cannot be conuay'd away
Pro. Know (noble Lord) they haue deuis'd a meane
How he her chamber-window will ascend,
And with a Corded-ladder fetch her downe:
For which, the youthfull Louer now is gone,
And this way comes he with it presently.
Where (if it please you) you may intercept him.
But (good my Lord) doe it so cunningly
That my discouery be not aimed at:
For, loue of you, not hate vnto my friend,
Hath made me publisher of this pretence
Duke. Vpon mine Honor, he shall neuer know
That I had any light from thee of this
Pro. Adiew, my Lord, Sir Valentine is comming
Duk. Sir Valentine, whether away so fast?
Val. Please it your Grace, there is a Messenger
That stayes to beare my Letters to my friends,
And I am going to deliuer them
Duk. Be they of much import?
Val. The tenure of them doth but signifie
My health, and happy being at your Court
Duk. Nay then no matter: stay with me a while,
I am to breake with thee of some affaires
That touch me neere: wherein thou must be secret.
'Tis not vnknown to thee, that I haue sought
To match my friend Sir Thurio, to my daughter
Val. I know it well (my Lord) and sure the Match
Were rich and honourable: besides, the gentleman
Is full of Vertue, Bounty, Worth, and Qualities
Beseeming such a Wife, as your faire daughter:
Cannot your Grace win her to fancie him?
Duk. No, trust me, She is peeuish, sullen, froward,
Prowd, disobedient, stubborne, lacking duty,
Neither regarding that she is my childe,
Nor fearing me, as if I were her father:
And may I say to thee, this pride of hers
(Vpon aduice) hath drawne my loue from her,
And where I thought the remnant of mine age
Should haue beene cherish'd by her child-like dutie,
I now am full resolu'd to take a wife,
And turne her out, to who will take her in:
Then let her beauty be her wedding dowre:
For me, and my possessions she esteemes not
Val. What would your Grace haue me to do in this?
Duk. There is a Lady in Verona heere
Whom I affect: but she is nice, and coy,
And naught esteemes my aged eloquence.
Now therefore would I haue thee to my Tutor
(For long agone I haue forgot to court,
Besides the fashion of the time is chang'd)
How, and which way I may bestow my selfe
To be regarded in her sun-bright eye
Val. Win her with gifts, if she respect not words,
Dumbe Iewels often in their silent kinde
More then quicke words, doe moue a womans minde
Duk. But she did scorne a present that I sent her,
Val. A woman somtime scorns what best co[n]tents her.
Send her another: neuer giue her ore,
For scorne at first, makes after-loue the more.
If she doe frowne, 'tis not in hate of you,
But rather to beget more loue in you.
If she doe chide, 'tis not to haue you gone,
For why, the fooles are mad, if left alone.
Take no repulse, what euer she doth say,
For, get you gon, she doth not meane away.
Flatter, and praise, commend, extoll their graces:
Though nere so blacke, say they haue Angells faces,
That man that hath a tongue, I say is no man,
If with his tongue he cannot win a woman
Duk. But she I meane, is promis'd by her friends
Vnto a youthfull Gentleman of worth,
And kept seuerely from resort of men,
That no man hath accesse by day to her
Val. Why then I would resort to her by night
Duk. I, but the doores be lockt, and keyes kept safe,
That no man hath recourse to her by night
Val. What letts but one may enter at her window?
Duk. Her chamber is aloft, far from the ground,
And built so sheluing, that one cannot climbe it
Without apparant hazard of his life
Val. Why then a Ladder quaintly made of Cords
To cast vp, with a paire of anchoring hookes,
Would serue to scale another Hero's towre,
So bold Leander would aduenture it
Duk. Now as thou art a Gentleman of blood
Aduise me, where I may haue such a Ladder
Val. When would you vse it? pray sir, tell me that
Duk. This very night; for Loue is like a childe
That longs for euery thing that he can come by
Val. By seauen a clock, ile get you such a Ladder
Duk But harke thee: I will goe to her alone,
How shall I best conuey the Ladder thither?
Val. It will be light (my Lord) that you may beare it
Vnder a cloake, that is of any length
Duk. A cloake as long as thine will serue the turne?
Val. I my good Lord
Duk. Then let me see thy cloake,
Ile get me one of such another length
Val. Why any cloake will serue the turn (my Lord)
Duk. How shall I fashion me to weare a cloake?
I pray thee let me feele thy cloake vpon me.
What Letter is this same? what's here? to Siluia?
And heere an Engine fit for my proceeding,
Ile be so bold to breake the seale for once.
My thoughts do harbour with my Siluia nightly,
And slaues they are to me, that send them flying.
Oh, could their Master come, and goe as lightly,
Himselfe would lodge where (senceles) they are lying.
My Herald Thoughts, in thy pure bosome rest-them,
While I (their King) that thither them importune
Doe curse the grace, that with such grace hath blest them,
Because my selfe doe want my seruants fortune.
I curse my selfe, for they are sent by me,
That they should harbour where their Lord should be.
What's here? Siluia, this night I will enfranchise thee.
'Tis so: and heere's the Ladder for the purpose.
Why Phaeton (for thou art Merops sonne)
Wilt thou aspire to guide the heauenly Car?
And with thy daring folly burne the world?
Wilt thou reach stars, because they shine on thee?
Goe base Intruder, ouer-weening Slaue,
Bestow thy fawning smiles on equall mates,
And thinke my patience, (more then thy desert)
Is priuiledge for thy departure hence.
Thanke me for this, more then for all the fauors
Which (all too-much) I haue bestowed on thee.
But if thou linger in my Territories
Longer then swiftest expedition
Will giue thee time to leaue our royall Court,
By heauen, my wrath shall farre exceed the loue
I euer bore my daughter, or thy selfe.
Be gone, I will not heare thy vaine excuse,
But as thou lou'st thy life, make speed from hence
Val. And why not death, rather then liuing torment?
To die, is to be banisht from my selfe,
And Siluia is my selfe: banish'd from her
Is selfe from selfe. A deadly banishment:
What light, is light, if Siluia be not seene?
What ioy is ioy, if Siluia be not by?
Vnlesse it be to thinke that she is by
And feed vpon the shadow of perfection.
Except I be by Siluia in the night,
There is no musicke in the Nightingale.
Vnlesse I looke on Siluia in the day,
There is no day for me to looke vpon.
Shee is my essence, and I leaue to be;
If I be not by her faire influence
Foster'd, illumin'd, cherish'd, kept aliue.
I flie not death, to flie his deadly doome,
Tarry I heere, I but attend on death,
But flie I hence, I flie away from life
Pro. Run (boy) run, run, and seeke him out
Lau. So-hough, Soa hough-
Pro. What seest thou?
Lau. Him we goe to finde,
There's not a haire on's head, but 'tis a Valentine
Pro. Valentine?
Val. No
Pro. Who then? his Spirit?
Val. Neither,
Pro. What then?
Val. Nothing
Lau. Can nothing speake? Master, shall I strike?
Pro. Who wouldst thou strike?
Lau. Nothing
Pro. Villaine, forbeare
Lau. Why Sir, Ile strike nothing: I pray you
Pro. Sirha, I say forbeare: friend Valentine, a word
Val. My eares are stopt, & cannot hear good newes,
So much of bad already hath possest them
Pro. Then in dumbe silence will I bury mine,
For they are harsh, vn-tuneable, and bad
Val. Is Siluia dead?
Pro. No, Valentine
Val. No Valentine indeed, for sacred Siluia,
Hath she forsworne me?
Pro. No, Valentine
Val. No Valentine, if Siluia haue forsworne me.
What is your newes?
Lau. Sir, there is a proclamation, y you are vanished
Pro. That thou art banish'd: oh that's the newes,
From hence, from Siluia, and from me thy friend
Val. Oh, I haue fed vpon this woe already,
And now excesse of it will make me surfet.
Doth Siluia know that I am banish'd?
Pro. I, I: and she hath offered to the doome
(Which vn-reuerst stands in effectuall force)
A Sea of melting pearle, which some call teares;
Those at her fathers churlish feete she tenderd,
With them vpon her knees, her humble selfe,
Wringing her hands, whose whitenes so became them,
As if but now they waxed pale for woe:
But neither bended knees, pure hands held vp,
Sad sighes, deepe grones, nor siluer-shedding teares
Could penetrate her vncompassionate Sire;
But Valentine, if he be tane, must die.
Besides, her intercession chaf'd him so,
When she for thy repeale was suppliant,
That to close prison he commanded her,
With many bitter threats of biding there
Val. No more: vnles the next word that thou speak'st
Haue some malignant power vpon my life:
If so: I pray thee breath it in mine eare,
As ending Antheme of my endlesse dolor
Pro. Cease to lament for that thou canst not helpe,
And study helpe for that which thou lament'st,
Time is the Nurse, and breeder of all good;
Here, if thou stay, thou canst not see thy loue:
Besides, thy staying will abridge thy life:
Hope is a louers staffe, walke hence with that
And manage it, against despairing thoughts:
Thy letters may be here, though thou art hence,
Which, being writ to me, shall be deliuer'd
Euen in the milke-white bosome of thy Loue.
The time now serues not to expostulate,
Come, Ile conuey thee through the City-gate.
And ere I part with thee, confer at large
Of all that may concerne thy Loue-affaires:
As thou lou'st Siluia (though not for thy selfe)
Regard thy danger, and along with me
Val. I pray thee Launce, and if thou seest my Boy
Bid him make haste, and meet me at the North-gate
Pro. Goe sirha, finde him out: Come Valentine
Val. Oh my deere Siluia; haplesse Valentine
Launce. I am but a foole, looke you, and yet I haue the wit to thinke my Master is a kinde of a knaue: but that's all one, if he be but one knaue: He liues not now that knowes me to be in loue, yet I am in loue, but a Teeme of horse shall not plucke that from me: nor who 'tis I loue: and yet 'tis a woman; but what woman, I will not tell my selfe: and yet 'tis a Milke-maid: yet 'tis not a maid: for shee hath had Gossips: yet 'tis a maid, for she is her Masters maid, and serues for wages. Shee hath more qualities then a Water-Spaniell, which is much in a bare Christian: Heere is the Catelog of her Condition. Inprimis. Shee can fetch and carry: why a horse can doe no more; nay, a horse cannot fetch, but onely carry, therefore is shee better then a Iade. Item. She can milke, looke you, a sweet vertue in a maid with cleane hands
Speed. How now Signior Launce? what newes with
your Mastership?
La. With my Mastership? why, it is at Sea:
Sp. Well, your old vice still: mistake the word: what
newes then in your paper?
La. The black'st newes that euer thou heard'st
Sp. Why man? how blacke?
La. Why, as blacke as Inke
Sp. Let me read them?
La. Fie on thee Iolt-head, thou canst not read
Sp. Thou lyest: I can
La. I will try thee: tell me this: who begot thee?
Sp. Marry, the son of my Grand-father
La. Oh illiterate loyterer; it was the sonne of thy
Grand-mother: this proues that thou canst not read
Sp. Come foole, come: try me in thy paper
La. There: and S[aint]. Nicholas be thy speed
Sp. Inprimis she can milke
La. I that she can
Sp. Item, she brewes good Ale
La. And thereof comes the prouerbe: (Blessing of
your heart, you brew good Ale.)
Sp. Item, she can sowe
La. That's as much as to say (Can she so?)
Sp. Item she can knit
La. What neede a man care for a stock with a wench,
When she can knit him a stocke?
Sp. Item, she can wash and scoure
La. A speciall vertue: for then shee neede not be
wash'd, and scowr'd
Sp. Item, she can spin
La. Then may I set the world on wheeles, when she can spin for her liuing
Sp. Item, she hath many namelesse vertues
La. That's as much as to say Bastard-vertues: that indeede know not their fathers; and therefore haue no names
Sp. Here follow her vices
La. Close at the heeles of her vertues
Sp. Item, shee is not to be fasting in respect of her
breath
La. Well: that fault may be mended with a breakfast:
read on
Sp. Item, she hath a sweet mouth
La. That makes amends for her soure breath
Sp. Item, she doth talke in her sleepe
La. It's no matter for that; so shee sleepe not in her talke
Sp. Item, she is slow in words
La. Oh villaine, that set this downe among her vices;
To be slow in words, is a womans onely vertue:
I pray thee out with't, and place it for her chiefe vertue
Sp. Item, she is proud
La. Out with that too:
It was Eues legacie, and cannot be t'ane from her
Sp. Item, she hath no teeth
La. I care not for that neither: because I loue crusts
Sp. Item, she is curst
La. Well: the best is, she hath no teeth to bite
Sp. Item, she will often praise her liquor
La. If her liquor be good, she shall: if she will not,
I will; for good things should be praised
Sp. Item, she is too liberall
La. Of her tongue she cannot; for that's writ downe she is slow of: of her purse, shee shall not, for that ile keepe shut: Now, of another thing shee may, and that cannot I helpe. Well, proceede
Sp. Item, shee hath more haire then wit, and more faults then haires, and more wealth then faults
La. Stop there: Ile haue her: she was mine, and not mine, twice or thrice in that last Article: rehearse that once more
Sp. Item, she hath more haire then wit
La. More haire then wit: it may be ile proue it: The couer of the salt, hides the salt, and therefore it is more then the salt; the haire that couers the wit, is more then the wit; for the greater hides the lesse: What's next? Sp. And more faults then haires
La. That's monstrous: oh that that were out
Sp. And more wealth then faults
La. Why that word makes the faults gracious: Well, ile haue her: and if it be a match, as nothing is impossible
Sp. What then?
La. Why then, will I tell thee, that thy Master staies
for thee at the North gate
Sp. For me?
La. For thee? I, who art thou? he hath staid for a better
man then thee
Sp. And must I goe to him?
La. Thou must run to him; for thou hast staid so long,
that going will scarce serue the turne
Sp. Why didst not tell me sooner? 'pox of your loue
Letters
La. Now will he be swing'd for reading my Letter;
An vnmannerly slaue, that will thrust himselfe into secrets:
Ile after, to reioyce in the boyes correctio[n].
Exeunt.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Duke, Thurio, Protheus.
Du. Sir Thurio, feare not, but that she will loue you
Now Valentine is banish'd from her sight
Th. Since his exile she hath despis'd me most,
Forsworne my company, and rail'd at me,
That I am desperate of obtaining her
Du. This weake impresse of Loue, is as a figure
Trenched in ice, which with an houres heate
Dissolues to water, and doth loose his forme.
A little time will melt her frozen thoughts,
And worthlesse Valentine shall be forgot.
How now sir Protheus, is your countriman
(According to our Proclamation) gon?
Pro. Gon, my good Lord
Du. My daughter takes his going grieuously?
Pro. A little time (my Lord) will kill that griefe
Du. So I beleeue: but Thurio thinkes not so:
Protheus, the good conceit I hold of thee,
(For thou hast showne some signe of good desert)
Makes me the better to confer with thee
Pro. Longer then I proue loyall to your Grace,
Let me not liue, to looke vpon your Grace
Du. Thou know'st how willingly, I would effect
The match betweene sir Thurio, and my daughter?
Pro. I doe my Lord
Du. And also, I thinke, thou art not ignorant
How she opposes her against my will?
Pro. She did my Lord, when Valentine was here
Du. I, and peruersly, she perseuers so:
What might we doe to make the girle forget
The loue of Valentine, and loue sir Thurio?
Pro. The best way is, to slander Valentine,
With falsehood, cowardize, and poore discent:
Three things, that women highly hold in hate
Du. I, but she'll thinke, that it is spoke in hate
Pro. I, if his enemy deliuer it.
Therefore it must with circumstance be spoken
By one, whom she esteemeth as his friend
Du. Then you must vndertake to slander him
Pro. And that (my Lord) I shall be loath to doe:
'Tis an ill office for a Gentleman,
Especially against his very friend
Du. Where your good word cannot aduantage him,
Your slander neuer can endamage him;
Therefore the office is indifferent,
Being intreated to it by your friend
Pro. You haue preuail'd (my Lord) if I can doe it
By ought that I can speake in his dispraise,
She shall not long continue loue to him:
But say this weede her loue from Valentine,
It followes not that she will loue sir Thurio
Th. Therefore, as you vnwinde her loue from him;
Least it should rauell, and be good to none,
You must prouide to bottome it on me:
Which must be done, by praising me as much
As you, in worth dispraise, sir Valentine
Du. And Protheus, we dare trust you in this kinde,
Because we know (on Valentines report)
You are already loues firme votary,
And cannot soone reuolt, and change your minde.
Vpon this warrant, shall you haue accesse,
Where you, with Siluia, may conferre at large.
For she is lumpish, heauy, mellancholly,
And (for your friends sake) will be glad of you;
Where you may temper her, by your perswasion,
To hate yong Valentine, and loue my friend
Pro. As much as I can doe, I will effect:
But you sir Thurio, are not sharpe enough:
You must lay Lime, to tangle her desires
By walefull Sonnets, whose composed Rimes
Should be full fraught with seruiceable vowes
Du. I, much is the force of heauen-bred Poesie
Pro. Say that vpon the altar of her beauty
You sacrifice your teares, your sighes, your heart:
Write till your inke be dry: and with your teares
Moist it againe: and frame some feeling line,
That may discouer such integrity:
For Orpheus Lute, was strung with Poets sinewes,
Whose golden touch could soften steele and stones;
Make Tygers tame, and huge Leuiathans
Forsake vnsounded deepes, to dance on Sands.
After your dire-lamenting Elegies,
Visit by night your Ladies chamber-window
With some sweet Consort; To their Instruments
Tune a deploring dumpe: the nights dead silence
Will well become such sweet complaining grieuance:
This, or else nothing, will inherit her
Du. This discipline, showes thou hast bin in loue
Th. And thy aduice, this night, ile put in practise:
Therefore, sweet Protheus, my direction-giuer,
Let vs into the City presently
To sort some Gentlemen, well skil'd in Musicke.
I haue a Sonnet, that will serue the turne
To giue the on-set to thy good aduise
Du. About it Gentlemen
Pro. We'll wait vpon your Grace, till after Supper,
And afterward determine our proceedings
Du. Euen now about it, I will pardon you.
Exeunt.
Actus Quartus. Scoena Prima.
Enter Valentine, Speed, and certaine Out-lawes.
1.Outl. Fellowes, stand fast: I see a passenger
2.Out. If there be ten, shrinke not, but down with 'em
3.Out. Stand sir, and throw vs that you haue about 'ye.
If not: we'll make you sit, and rifle you
Sp. Sir we are vndone; these are the Villaines
That all the Trauailers doe feare so much
Val. My friends
1.Out. That's not so, sir: we are your enemies
2.Out. Peace: we'll heare him
3.Out. I by my beard will we: for he is a proper man
Val. Then know that I haue little wealth to loose;
A man I am, cross'd with aduersitie:
My riches, are these poore habiliments,
Of which, if you should here disfurnish me,
You take the sum and substance that I haue
2.Out. Whether trauell you?
Val. To Verona
1.Out. Whence came you?
Val. From Millaine
3.Out. Haue you long soiourn'd there?
Val. Some sixteene moneths, and longer might haue staid,
If crooked fortune had not thwarted me
1.Out. What, were you banish'd thence?
Val. I was
2.Out. For what offence?
Val. For that which now torments me to rehearse;
I kil'd a man, whose death I much repent,
But yet I slew him manfully, in fight,
Without false vantage, or base treachery
1.Out. Why nere repent it, if it were done so;
But were you banisht for so small a fault?
Val. I was, and held me glad of such a doome
2.Out. Haue you the Tongues?
Val. My youthfull trauaile, therein made me happy,
Or else I often had beene often miserable
3.Out. By the bare scalpe of Robin Hoods fat Fryer,
This fellow were a King, for our wilde faction
1.Out. We'll haue him: Sirs, a word
Sp. Master, be one of them:
It's an honourable kinde of theeuery
Val. Peace villaine
2.Out. Tell vs this: haue you any thing to take to?
Val. Nothing but my fortune
3.Out. Know then, that some of vs are Gentlemen,
Such as the fury of vngouern'd youth
Thrust from the company of awfull men.
My selfe was from Verona banished,
For practising to steale away a Lady,
And heire and Neece, alide vnto the Duke
2.Out. And I from Mantua, for a Gentleman,
Who, in my moode, I stab'd vnto the heart
1.Out. And I, for such like petty crimes as these.
But to the purpose: for we cite our faults,
That they may hold excus'd our lawlesse liues;
And partly seeing you are beautifide
With goodly shape; and by your owne report,
A Linguist, and a man of such perfection,
As we doe in our quality much want
2.Out. Indeede because you are a banish'd man,
Therefore, aboue the rest, we parley to you:
Are you content to be our Generall?
To make a vertue of necessity,
And liue as we doe in this wildernesse?
3.Out. What saist thou? wilt thou be of our consort?
Say I, and be the captaine of vs all:
We'll doe thee homage, and be rul'd by thee,
Loue thee, as our Commander, and our King
1.Out. But if thou scorne our curtesie, thou dyest
2.Out. Thou shalt not liue, to brag what we haue offer'd
Val. I take your offer, and will liue with you,
Prouided that you do no outrages
On silly women, or poore passengers
3.Out. No, we detest such vile base practises.
Come, goe with vs, we'll bring thee to our Crewes,
And show thee all the Treasure we haue got;
Which, with our selues, all rest at thy dispose.
Exeunt.
Scoena Secunda.
Enter Protheus, Thurio, Iulia, Host, Musitian, Siluia.
Pro. Already haue I bin false to Valentine,
And now I must be as vniust to Thurio,
Vnder the colour of commending him,
I haue accesse my owne loue to prefer.
But Siluia is too faire, too true, too holy,
To be corrupted with my worthlesse guifts;
When I protest true loyalty to her,
She twits me with my falsehood to my friend;
When to her beauty I commend my vowes,
She bids me thinke how I haue bin forsworne
In breaking faith with Iulia, whom I lou'd;
And notwithstanding all her sodaine quips,
The least whereof would quell a louers hope:
Yet (Spaniel-like) the more she spurnes my loue,
The more it growes, and fawneth on her still;
But here comes Thurio; now must we to her window,
And giue some euening Musique to her eare
Th. How now, sir Protheus, are you crept before vs?
Pro. I gentle Thurio, for you know that loue
Will creepe in seruice, where it cannot goe
Th. I, but I hope, Sir, that you loue not here
Pro. Sir, but I doe: or else I would be hence
Th. Who, Siluia?
Pro. I, Siluia, for your sake
Th. I thanke you for your owne: Now Gentlemen
Let's tune: and too it lustily a while
Ho. Now, my yong guest; me thinks your' allycholly;
I pray you why is it?
Iu. Marry (mine Host) because I cannot be merry
Ho. Come, we'll haue you merry: ile bring you where you shall heare Musique, and see the Gentleman that you ask'd for
Iu. But shall I heare him speake
Ho. I that you shall
Iu. That will be Musique
Ho. Harke, harke
Iu. Is he among these?
Ho. I: but peace, let's heare'm
Song. Who is Siluia? what is she?
That all our Swaines commend her?
Holy, faire, and wise is she,
The heauen such grace did lend her,
that she might admired be.
Is she kinde as she is faire?
For beauty liues with kindnesse:
Loue doth to her eyes repaire,
To helpe him of his blindnesse:
And being help'd, inhabits there.
Then to Siluia, let vs sing,
That Siluia is excelling;
She excels each mortall thing
Vpon the dull earth dwelling.
To her let vs Garlands bring
Ho. How now? are you sadder then you were before;
How doe you, man? the Musicke likes you not
Iu. You mistake: the Musitian likes me not
Ho. Why, my pretty youth?
Iu. He plaies false (father.)
Ho. How, out of tune on the strings
Iu. Not so: but yet
So false that he grieues my very heart-strings
Ho. You haue a quicke eare
Iu. I, I would I were deafe: it makes me haue a slow heart
Ho. I perceiue you delight not in Musique
Iu. Not a whit, when it iars so
Ho. Harke, what fine change is in the Musique
Iu. I: that change is the spight
Ho. You would haue them alwaies play but one thing
Iu. I would alwaies haue one play but one thing.
But Host, doth this Sir Protheus, that we talke on,
Often resort vnto this Gentlewoman?
Ho. I tell you what Launce his man told me,
He lou'd her out of all nicke
Iu. Where is Launce?
Ho. Gone to seeke his dog, which to morrow, by his
Masters command, hee must carry for a present to his
Lady
Iu. Peace, stand aside, the company parts
Pro. Sir Thurio, feare not you, I will so pleade,
That you shall say, my cunning drift excels
Th. Where meete we?
Pro. At Saint Gregories well
Th. Farewell
Pro. Madam: good eu'n to your Ladiship
Sil. I thanke you for your Musique (Gentlemen)
Who is that that spake?
Pro. One (Lady) if you knew his pure hearts truth,
You would quickly learne to know him by his voice
Sil. Sir Protheus, as I take it
Pro. Sir Protheus (gentle Lady) and your Seruant
Sil. What's your will?
Pro. That I may compasse yours
Sil. You haue your wish: my will is euen this,
That presently you hie you home to bed:
Thou subtile, periur'd, false, disloyall man:
Think'st thou I am so shallow, so conceitlesse,
To be seduced by thy flattery,
That has't deceiu'd so many with thy vowes?
Returne, returne, and make thy loue amends:
For me (by this pale queene of night I sweare)
I am so farre from granting thy request,
That I despise thee, for thy wrongfull suite;
And by and by intend to chide my selfe,
Euen for this time I spend in talking to thee
Pro. I grant (sweet loue) that I did loue a Lady,
But she is dead
Iu. 'Twere false, if I should speake it;
For I am sure she is not buried
Sil. Say that she be: yet Valentine thy friend
Suruiues; to whom (thy selfe art witnesse)
I am betroth'd; and art thou not asham'd
To wrong him, with thy importunacy?
Pro. I likewise heare that Valentine is dead
Sil. And so suppose am I; for in her graue
Assure thy selfe, my loue is buried
Pro. Sweet Lady, let me rake it from the earth
Sil. Goe to thy Ladies graue and call hers thence,
Or at the least, in hers, sepulcher thine
Iul. He heard not that
Pro. Madam: if your heart be so obdurate:
Vouchsafe me yet your Picture for my loue,
The Picture that is hanging in your chamber:
To that ile speake, to that ile sigh and weepe:
For since the substance of your perfect selfe
Is else deuoted, I am but a shadow;
And to your shadow, will I make true loue
Iul. If 'twere a substance you would sure deceiue it,
And make it but a shadow, as I am
Sil. I am very loath to be your Idoll Sir;
But, since your falsehood shall become you well
To worship shadowes, and adore false shapes,
Send to me in the morning, and ile send it:
And so, good rest
Pro. As wretches haue ore-night
That wait for execution in the morne
Iul. Host, will you goe?
Ho. By my hallidome, I was fast asleepe
Iul. Pray you, where lies Sir Protheus?
Ho. Marry, at my house:
Trust me, I thinke 'tis almost day
Iul. Not so: but it hath bin the longest night
That ere I watch'd, and the most heauiest.
Scoena Tertia.
Enter Eglamore, Siluia.
Eg. This is the houre that Madam Siluia
Entreated me to call, and know her minde:
Ther's some great matter she'ld employ me in.
Madam, Madam
Sil. Who cals?
Eg. Your seruant, and your friend;
One that attends your Ladiships command
Sil. Sir Eglamore, a thousand times good morrow
Eg. As many (worthy Lady) to your selfe:
According to your Ladiships impose,
I am thus early come, to know what seruice
It is your pleasure to command me in
Sil. Oh Eglamoure, thou art a Gentleman:
Thinke not I flatter (for I sweare I doe not)
Valiant, wise, remorse-full, well accomplish'd.
Thou art not ignorant what deere good will
I beare vnto the banish'd Valentine:
Nor how my father would enforce me marry
Vaine Thurio (whom my very soule abhor'd.)
Thy selfe hast lou'd, and I haue heard thee say
No griefe did euer come so neere thy heart,
As when thy Lady, and thy true-loue dide,
Vpon whose Graue thou vow'dst pure chastitie:
Sir Eglamoure: I would to Valentine
To Mantua, where I heare, he makes aboad;
And for the waies are dangerous to passe,
I doe desire thy worthy company,
Vpon whose faith and honor, I repose.
Vrge not my fathers anger (Eglamoure)
But thinke vpon my griefe (a Ladies griefe)
And on the iustice of my flying hence,
To keepe me from a most vnholy match,
Which heauen and fortune still rewards with plagues.
I doe desire thee, euen from a heart
As full of sorrowes, as the Sea of sands,
To beare me company, and goe with me:
If not, to hide what I haue said to thee,
That I may venture to depart alone
Egl. Madam, I pitty much your grieuances,
Which, since I know they vertuously are plac'd,
I giue consent to goe along with you,
Wreaking as little what betideth me,
As much, I wish all good befortune you.
When will you goe?
Sil. This euening comming
Eg. Where shall I meete you?
Sil. At Frier Patrickes Cell,
Where I intend holy Confession
Eg. I will not faile your Ladiship:
Good morrow (gentle Lady.)
Sil. Good morrow, kinde Sir Eglamoure.
Exeunt.
Scena Quarta.
Enter Launce, Protheus, Iulia, Siluia.
Lau. When a mans seruant shall play the Curre with him (looke you) it goes hard: one that I brought vp of a puppy: one that I sau'd from drowning, when three or foure of his blinde brothers and sisters went to it: I haue taught him (euen as one would say precisely, thus I would teach a dog) I was sent to deliuer him, as a present to Mistris Siluia, from my Master; and I came no sooner into the dyning-chamber, but he steps me to her Trencher, and steales her Capons-leg: O, 'tis a foule thing, when a Cur cannot keepe himselfe in all companies: I would haue (as one should say) one that takes vpon him to be a dog indeede, to be, as it were, a dog at all things. If I had not had more wit then he, to take a fault vpon me that he did, I thinke verily hee had bin hang'd for't: sure as I liue he had suffer'd for't: you shall iudge: Hee thrusts me himselfe into the company of three or foure gentleman-like-dogs, vnder the Dukes table: hee had not bin there (blesse the marke) a pissing while, but all the chamber smelt him: out with the dog (saies one) what cur is that (saies another) whip him out (saies the third) hang him vp (saies the Duke.) I hauing bin acquainted with the smell before, knew it was Crab; and goes me to the fellow that whips the dogges: friend (quoth I) you meane to whip the dog: I marry doe I (quoth he) you doe him the more wrong (quoth I) 'twas I did the thing you wot of: he makes me no more adoe, but whips me out of the chamber: how many Masters would doe this for his Seruant? nay, ile be sworne I haue sat in the stockes, for puddings he hath stolne, otherwise he had bin executed: I haue stood on the Pillorie for Geese he hath kil'd, otherwise he had sufferd for't: thou think'st not of this now: nay, I remember the tricke you seru'd me, when I tooke my leaue of Madam Siluia: did not I bid thee still marke me, and doe as I do; when did'st thou see me heaue vp my leg, and make water against a Gentlewomans farthingale? did'st thou euer see me doe such a tricke? Pro. Sebastian is thy name: I like thee well, And will imploy thee in some seruice presently
Iu. In what you please, ile doe what I can
Pro. I hope thou wilt.
How now you whorson pezant,
Where haue you bin these two dayes loytering?
La. Marry Sir, I carried Mistris Siluia the dogge you
bad me
Pro. And what saies she to my little Iewell?
La. Marry she saies your dog was a cur, and tels you
currish thanks is good enough for such a present
Pro. But she receiu'd my dog?
La. No indeede did she not:
Here haue I brought him backe againe
Pro. What, didst thou offer her this from me?
La. I Sir, the other Squirrill was stolne from me
By the Hangmans boyes in the market place,
And then I offer'd her mine owne, who is a dog
As big as ten of yours, & therefore the guift the greater
Pro. Goe, get thee hence, and finde my dog againe,
Or nere returne againe into my sight.
Away, I say: stayest thou to vexe me here;
A Slaue, that still an end, turnes me to shame:
Sebastian, I haue entertained thee,
Partly that I haue neede of such a youth,
That can with some discretion doe my businesse:
For 'tis no trusting to yond foolish Lowt;
But chiefely, for thy face, and thy behauiour,
Which (if my Augury deceiue me not)
Witnesse good bringing vp, fortune, and truth:
Therefore know thee, for this I entertaine thee.
Go presently, and take this Ring with thee,
Deliuer it to Madam Siluia;
She lou'd me well, deliuer'd it to me
Iul. It seemes you lou'd not her, not leaue her token:
She is dead belike?
Pro. Not so: I thinke she liues
Iul. Alas
Pro. Why do'st thou cry alas?
Iul. I cannot choose but pitty her
Pro. Wherefore should'st thou pitty her?
Iul. Because, me thinkes that she lou'd you as well
As you doe loue your Lady Siluia:
She dreames on him, that has forgot her loue,
You doate on her, that cares not for your loue.
'Tis pitty Loue, should be so contrary:
And thinking on it, makes me cry alas
Pro. Well: giue her that Ring, and therewithall
This Letter: that's her chamber: Tell my Lady,
I claime the promise for her heauenly Picture:
Your message done, hye home vnto my chamber,
Where thou shalt finde me sad, and solitarie
Iul. How many women would doe such a message?
Alas poore Protheus, thou hast entertain'd
A Foxe, to be the Shepheard of thy Lambs;
Alas, poore foole, why doe I pitty him
That with his very heart despiseth me?
Because he loues her, he despiseth me,
Because I loue him, I must pitty him.
This Ring I gaue him, when he parted from me,
To binde him to remember my good will:
And now am I (vnhappy Messenger)
To plead for that, which I would not obtaine;
To carry that, which I would haue refus'd;
To praise his faith, which I would haue disprais'd.
I am my Masters true confirmed Loue,
But cannot be true seruant to my Master,
Vnlesse I proue false traitor to my selfe.
Yet will I woe for him, but yet so coldly,
As (heauen it knowes) I would not haue him speed.
Gentlewoman, good day: I pray you be my meane
To bring me where to speake with Madam Siluia
Sil. What would you with her, if that I be she?
Iul. If you be she, I doe intreat your patience
To heare me speake the message I am sent on
Sil. From whom?
Iul. From my Master, Sir Protheus, Madam
Sil. Oh: he sends you for a Picture?
Iul. I, Madam
Sil. Vrsula, bring my Picture there,
Goe, giue your Master this: tell him from me,
One Iulia, that his changing thoughts forget
Would better fit his Chamber, then this Shadow
Iul. Madam, please you peruse this Letter;
Pardon me (Madam) I haue vnaduis'd
Deliuer'd you a paper that I should not;
This is the Letter to your Ladiship
Sil. I pray thee let me looke on that againe
Iul. It may not be: good Madam pardon me
Sil. There, hold:
I will not looke vpon your Masters lines:
I know they are stuft with protestations,
And full of new-found oathes, which he will breake
As easily, as I doe teare his paper
Iul. Madam, he sends your Ladiship this Ring
Sil. The more shame for him, that he sends it me;
For I haue heard him say a thousand times,
His Iulia gaue it him, at his departure:
Though his false finger haue prophan'd the Ring,
Mine shall not doe his Iulia so much wrong
Iul. She thankes you
Sil. What sai'st thou?
Iul. I thanke you Madam, that you tender her:
Poore Gentlewoman, my Master wrongs her much
Sil. Do'st thou know her?
Iul. Almost as well as I doe know my selfe.
To thinke vpon her woes, I doe protest
That I haue wept a hundred seuerall times
Sil. Belike she thinks that Protheus hath forsook her?
Iul. I thinke she doth: and that's her cause of sorrow
Sil. Is she not passing faire?
Iul. She hath bin fairer (Madam) then she is,
When she did thinke my Master lou'd her well;
She, in my iudgement, was as faire as you.
But since she did neglect her looking-glasse,
And threw her Sun-expelling Masque away,
The ayre hath staru'd the roses in her cheekes,
And pinch'd the lilly-tincture of her face,
That now she is become as blacke as I
Sil. How tall was she?
Iul. About my stature: for at Pentecost,
When all our Pageants of delight were plaid,
Our youth got me to play the womans part,
And I was trim'd in Madam Iulias gowne,
Which serued me as fit, by all mens iudgements,
As if the garment had bin made for me:
Therefore I know she is about my height,
And at that time I made her weepe a good,
For I did play a lamentable part.
(Madam) 'twas Ariadne, passioning
For Thesus periury, and vniust flight;
Which I so liuely acted with my teares:
That my poore Mistris moued therewithall,
Wept bitterly: and would I might be dead,
If I in thought felt not her very sorrow
Sil. She is beholding to thee (gentle youth)
Alas (poore Lady) desolate, and left;
I weepe my selfe to thinke vpon thy words:
Here youth: there is my purse; I giue thee this
For thy sweet Mistris sake, because thou lou'st her. Farewell
Iul. And she shall thanke you for't, if ere you know her.
A vertuous gentlewoman, milde, and beautifull.
I hope my Masters suit will be but cold,
Since she respects my Mistris loue so much.
Alas, how loue can trifle with it selfe:
Here is her Picture: let me see, I thinke
If I had such a Tyre, this face of mine
Were full as louely, as is this of hers;
And yet the Painter flatter'd her a little,
Vnlesse I flatter with my selfe too much.
Her haire is Aburne, mine is perfect Yellow;
If that be all the difference in his loue,
Ile get me such a coulour'd Perrywig:
Her eyes are grey as glasse, and so are mine.
I, but her fore-head's low, and mine's as high:
What should it be that he respects in her,
But I can make respectiue in my selfe?
If this fond Loue, were not a blinded god.
Come shadow, come, and take this shadow vp,
For 'tis thy riuall: O thou sencelesse forme,
Thou shalt be worship'd, kiss'd, lou'd, and ador'd;
And were there sence in his Idolatry,
My substance should be statue in thy stead.
Ile vse thee kindly, for thy Mistris sake
That vs'd me so: or else by Ioue, I vow,
I should haue scratch'd out your vnseeing eyes,
To make my Master out of loue with thee.
Exeunt.
Actus Quintus. Scoena Prima.
Enter Eglamoure, Siluia.
Egl. The Sun begins to guild the westerne skie,
And now it is about the very houre
That Siluia, at Fryer Patricks Cell should meet me,
She will not faile; for Louers breake not houres,
Vnlesse it be to come before their time,
So much they spur their expedition.
See where she comes: Lady a happy euening
Sil. Amen, Amen: goe on (good Eglamoure)
Out at the Posterne by the Abbey wall;
I feare I am attended by some Spies
Egl. Feare not: the Forrest is not three leagues off,
If we recouer that, we are sure enough.
Exeunt.
Scoena Secunda.
Enter Thurio, Protheus, Iulia, Duke.
Th. Sir Protheus, what saies Siluia to my suit?
Pro. Oh Sir, I finde her milder then she was,
And yet she takes exceptions at your person
Thu. What? that my leg is too long?
Pro. No, that it is too little
Thu. Ile weare a Boote, to make it somewhat rounder
Pro. But loue will not be spurd to what it loathes
Thu. What saies she to my face?
Pro. She saies it is a faire one
Thu. Nay then the wanton lyes: my face is blacke
Pro. But Pearles are faire; and the old saying is,
Blacke men are Pearles, in beauteous Ladies eyes
Thu. 'Tis true, such Pearles as put out Ladies eyes,
For I had rather winke, then looke on them
Thu. How likes she my discourse?
Pro. Ill, when you talke of war
Thu. But well, when I discourse of loue and peace
Iul. But better indeede, when you hold you peace
Thu. What sayes she to my valour?
Pro. Oh Sir, she makes no doubt of that
Iul. She needes not, when she knowes it cowardize
Thu. What saies she to my birth?
Pro. That you are well deriu'd
Iul. True: from a Gentleman, to a foole
Thu. Considers she my Possessions?
Pro. Oh, I: and pitties them
Thu. Wherefore?
Iul. That such an Asse should owe them
Pro. That they are out by Lease
Iul. Here comes the Duke
Du. How now sir Protheus; how now Thurio?
Which of you saw Eglamoure of late?
Thu. Not I
Pro. Nor I
Du. Saw you my daughter?
Pro. Neither
Du. Why then
She's fled vnto that pezant, Valentine;
And Eglamoure is in her Company:
'Tis true: for Frier Laurence met them both
As he, in pennance wander'd through the Forrest:
Him he knew well: and guesd that it was she,
But being mask'd, he was not sure of it.
Besides she did intend Confession
At Patricks Cell this euen, and there she was not.
These likelihoods confirme her flight from hence;
Therefore I pray you stand, not to discourse,
But mount you presently, and meete with me
Vpon the rising of the Mountaine foote
That leads toward Mantua, whether they are fled:
Dispatch (sweet Gentlemen) and follow me
Thu. Why this it is, to be a peeuish Girle,
That flies her fortune when it followes her:
Ile after; more to be reueng'd on Eglamoure,
Then for the loue of reck-lesse Siluia
Pro. And I will follow, more for Siluias loue
Then hate of Eglamoure that goes with her
Iul. And I will follow, more to crosse that loue
Then hate for Siluia, that is gone for loue.
Exeunt.
Scena Tertia.
Siluia, Outlawes.
1.Out. Come, come be patient:
We must bring you to our Captaine
Sil. A thousand more mischances then this one
Haue learn'd me how to brooke this patiently
2 Out. Come, bring her away
1 Out. Where is the Gentleman that was with her? 3 Out. Being nimble footed, he hath out-run vs. But Moyses and Valerius follow him: Goe thou with her to the West end of the wood, There is our Captaine: Wee'll follow him that's fled, The Thicket is beset, he cannot scape
1 Out. Come, I must bring you to our Captains caue. Feare not: he beares an honourable minde, And will not vse a woman lawlesly
Sil. O Valentine: this I endure for thee.
Exeunt.
Scoena Quarta.
Enter Valentine, Protheus, Siluia, Iulia, Duke, Thurio, Outlawes.
Val. How vse doth breed a habit in a man?
This shadowy desart, vnfrequented woods
I better brooke then flourishing peopled Townes:
Here can I sit alone, vn-seene of any,
And to the Nightingales complaining Notes
Tune my distresses, and record my woes.
O thou that dost inhabit in my brest,
Leaue not the Mansion so long Tenant-lesse,
Lest growing ruinous, the building fall,
And leaue no memory of what it was,
Repaire me, with thy presence, Siluia:
Thou gentle Nimph, cherish thy forlorne swaine.
What hallowing, and what stir is this to day?
These are my mates, that make their wills their Law,
Haue some vnhappy passenger in chace;
They loue me well: yet I haue much to doe
To keepe them from vnciuill outrages.
Withdraw thee Valentine: who's this comes heere?
Pro. Madam, this seruice I haue done for you
(Though you respect not aught your seruant doth)
To hazard life, and reskew you from him,
That would haue forc'd your honour, and your loue,
Vouchsafe me for my meed, but one faire looke:
(A smaller boone then this I cannot beg,
And lesse then this, I am sure you cannot giue.)
Val. How like a dreame is this? I see, and heare:
Loue, lend me patience to forbeare a while
Sil. O miserable, vnhappy that I am
Pro. Vnhappy were you (Madam) ere I came:
But by my comming, I haue made you happy
Sil. By thy approach thou mak'st me most vnhappy
Iul. And me, when he approcheth to your presence
Sil. Had I beene ceazed by a hungry Lion,
I would haue beene a breakfast to the Beast,
Rather then haue false Protheus reskue me:
Oh heauen be iudge how I loue Valentine,
Whose life's as tender to me as my soule,
And full as much (for more there cannot be)
I doe detest false periur'd Protheus:
Therefore be gone, sollicit me no more
Pro. What dangerous action, stood it next to death
Would I not vndergoe, for one calme looke:
Oh 'tis the curse in Loue, and still approu'd
When women cannot loue, where they're belou'd
Sil. When Protheus cannot loue, where he's belou'd:
Read ouer Iulia's heart, (thy first best Loue)
For whose deare sake, thou didst then rend thy faith
Into a thousand oathes; and all those oathes,
Descended into periury, to loue me,
Thou hast no faith left now, vnlesse thou'dst two,
And that's farre worse then none: better haue none
Then plurall faith, which is too much by one:
Thou Counterfeyt, to thy true friend
Pro. In Loue,
Who respects friend?
Sil. All men but Protheus
Pro. Nay, if the gentle spirit of mouing words
Can no way change you to a milder forme;
Ile wooe you like a Souldier, at armes end,
And loue you 'gainst the nature of Loue: force ye
Sil. Oh heauen
Pro. Ile force thee yeeld to my desire
Val. Ruffian: let goe that rude vnciuill touch,
Thou friend of an ill fashion
Pro. Valentine
Val. Thou co[m]mon friend, that's without faith or loue,
For such is a friend now: treacherous man,
Thou hast beguil'd my hopes; nought but mine eye
Could haue perswaded me: now I dare not say
I haue one friend aliue; thou wouldst disproue me:
Who should be trusted, when ones right hand
Is periured to the bosome? Protheus
I am sorry I must neuer trust thee more,
But count the world a stranger for thy sake:
The priuate wound is deepest: oh time, most accurst.
'Mongst all foes that a friend should be the worst?
Pro. My shame and guilt confounds me:
Forgiue me Valentine: if hearty sorrow
Be a sufficient Ransome for offence,
I tender't heere: I doe as truely suffer,
As ere I did commit
Val. Then I am paid:
And once againe, I doe receiue thee honest;
Who by Repentance is not satisfied,
Is nor of heauen, nor earth; for these are pleas'd:
By Penitence th' Eternalls wrath's appeas'd:
And that my loue may appeare plaine and free,
All that was mine, in Siluia, I giue thee
Iul. Oh me vnhappy
Pro. Looke to the Boy
Val. Why, Boy?
Why wag: how now? what's the matter? look vp: speak
Iul. O good sir, my master charg'd me to deliuer a ring
to Madam Siluia: w (out of my neglect) was neuer done
Pro. Where is that ring? boy?
Iul. Heere 'tis: this is it
Pro. How? let me see.
Why this is the ring I gaue to Iulia
Iul. Oh, cry you mercy sir, I haue mistooke:
This is the ring you sent to Siluia
Pro. But how cam'st thou by this ring? at my depart
I gaue this vnto Iulia
Iul. And Iulia her selfe did giue it me,
And Iulia her selfe hath brought it hither
Pro. How? Iulia?
Iul. Behold her, that gaue ayme to all thy oathes,
And entertain'd 'em deepely in her heart.
How oft hast thou with periury cleft the roote?
Oh Protheus, let this habit make thee blush.
Be thou asham'd that I haue tooke vpon me,
Such an immodest rayment; if shame liue
In a disguise of loue?
It is the lesser blot modesty findes,
Women to change their shapes, then men their minds
Pro. Then men their minds? tis true: oh heuen, were man
But Constant, he were perfect; that one error
Fils him with faults: makes him run through all th' sins;
Inconstancy falls-off, ere it begins:
What is in Siluia's face, but I may spie
More fresh in Iulia's, with a constant eye?
Val. Come, come: a hand from either:
Let me be blest to make this happy close:
'Twere pitty two such friends should be long foes
Pro. Beare witnes (heauen) I haue my wish for euer
Iul. And I mine
Outl. A prize: a prize: a prize
Val. Forbeare, forbeare I say: It is my Lord the Duke.
Your Grace is welcome to a man disgrac'd,
Banished Valentine
Duke. Sir Valentine?
Thu. Yonder is Siluia: and Siluia's mine
Val. Thurio giue backe; or else embrace thy death:
Come not within the measure of my wrath:
Doe not name Siluia thine: if once againe,
Verona shall not hold thee: heere she stands,
Take but possession of her, with a Touch:
I dare thee, but to breath vpon my Loue
Thur. Sir Valentine, I care not for her, I:
I hold him but a foole that will endanger
His Body, for a Girle that loues him not:
I claime her not, and therefore she is thine
Duke. The more degenerate and base art thou
To make such meanes for her, as thou hast done,
And leaue her on such slight conditions.
Now, by the honor of my Ancestry,
I doe applaud thy spirit, Valentine,
And thinke thee worthy of an Empresse loue:
Know then, I heere forget all former greefes,
Cancell all grudge, repeale thee home againe,
Plead a new state in thy vn-riual'd merit,
To which I thus subscribe: Sir Valentine,
Thou art a Gentleman, and well deriu'd,
Take thou thy Siluia, for thou hast deseru'd her
Val. I thank your Grace, y gift hath made me happy:
I now beseech you (for your daughters sake)
To grant one Boone that I shall aske of you
Duke. I grant it (for thine owne) what ere it be
Val. These banish'd men, that I haue kept withall,
Are men endu'd with worthy qualities:
Forgiue them what they haue committed here,
And let them be recall'd from their Exile:
They are reformed, ciuill, full of good,
And fit for great employment (worthy Lord.)
Duke. Thou hast preuaild, I pardon them and thee:
Dispose of them, as thou knowst their deserts.
Come, let vs goe, we will include all iarres,
With Triumphes, Mirth, and rare solemnity
Val. And as we walke along, I dare be bold
With our discourse, to make your Grace to smile.
What thinke you of this Page (my Lord?)
Duke. I think the Boy hath grace in him, he blushes
Val. I warrant you (my Lord) more grace, then Boy
Duke. What meane you by that saying?
Val. Please you, Ile tell you, as we passe along,
That you will wonder what hath fortuned:
Come Protheus, 'tis your pennance, but to heare
The story of your Loues discouered.
That done, our day of marriage shall be yours,
One Feast, one house, one mutuall happinesse.
Exeunt.
The names of all the Actors.
Duke: Father to Siluia.
Valentine.
Protheus. the two Gentlemen.
Anthonio: father to Protheus.
Thurio: a foolish riuall to Valentine.
Eglamoure: Agent for Siluia in her escape.
Host: where Iulia lodges.
Outlawes with Valentine.
Speed: a clownish seruant to Valentine.
Launce: the like to Protheus.
Panthion: seruant to Antonio.
Iulia: beloued of Protheus.
Siluia: beloued of Valentine.
Lucetta: waighting-woman to Iulia.
FINIS. THE Two Gentlemen of Verona.
The Merry Wiues of Windsor
Actus primus, Scena prima.
Enter Iustice Shallow, Slender, Sir Hugh Euans, Master Page,
Falstoffe,
Bardolph, Nym, Pistoll, Anne Page, Mistresse Ford, Mistresse
Page, Simple.
Shallow. Sir Hugh, perswade me not: I will make a StarChamber
matter of it, if hee were twenty Sir
Iohn Falstoffs, he shall not abuse Robert Shallow
Esquire
Slen. In the County of Glocester, Iustice of Peace and Coram
Shal. I (Cosen Slender) and Custalorum
Slen. I, and Ratolorum too; and a Gentleman borne
(Master Parson) who writes himselfe Armigero, in any
Bill, Warrant, Quittance, or Obligation, Armigero
Shal. I that I doe, and haue done any time these three
hundred yeeres
Slen. All his successors (gone before him) hath don't: and all his Ancestors (that come after him) may: they may giue the dozen white Luces in their Coate
Shal. It is an olde Coate
Euans. The dozen white Lowses doe become an old Coat well: it agrees well passant: It is a familiar beast to man, and signifies Loue
Shal. The Luse is the fresh-fish, the salt-fish, is an old
Coate
Slen. I may quarter (Coz)
Shal. You may, by marrying
Euans. It is marring indeed, if he quarter it
Shal. Not a whit
Euan. Yes per-lady: if he ha's a quarter of your coat, there is but three Skirts for your selfe, in my simple coniectures; but that is all one: if Sir Iohn Falstaffe haue committed disparagements vnto you, I am of the Church and will be glad to do my beneuolence, to make attonements and compremises betweene you
Shal. The Councell shall heare it, it is a Riot
Euan. It is not meet the Councell heare a Riot: there is no feare of Got in a Riot: The Councell (looke you) shall desire to heare the feare of Got, and not to heare a Riot: take your vizaments in that
Shal. Ha; o'my life, if I were yong againe, the sword should end it
Euans. It is petter that friends is the sword, and end it: and there is also another deuice in my praine, which peraduenture prings goot discretions with it. There is Anne Page, which is daughter to Master Thomas Page, which is pretty virginity
Slen. Mistris Anne Page? she has browne haire, and speakes small like a woman
Euans. It is that ferry person for all the orld, as iust as you will desire, and seuen hundred pounds of Moneyes, and Gold, and Siluer, is her Grand-sire vpon his deathsbed, (Got deliuer to a ioyfull resurrections) giue, when she is able to ouertake seuenteene yeeres old. It were a goot motion, if we leaue our pribbles and prabbles, and desire a marriage betweene Master Abraham, and Mistris Anne Page
Slen. Did her Grand-sire leaue her seauen hundred
pound?
Euan. I, and her father is make her a petter penny
Slen. I know the young Gentlewoman, she has good
gifts
Euan. Seuen hundred pounds, and possibilities, is
goot gifts
Shal. Wel, let vs see honest Mr Page: is Falstaffe there? Euan. Shall I tell you a lye? I doe despise a lyer, as I doe despise one that is false, or as I despise one that is not true: the Knight Sir Iohn is there, and I beseech you be ruled by your well-willers: I will peat the doore for Mr. Page. What hoa? Got-plesse your house heere
Mr.Page. Who's there? Euan. Here is go't's plessing and your friend, and Iustice Shallow, and heere yong Master Slender: that peraduentures shall tell you another tale, if matters grow to your likings
Mr.Page. I am glad to see your Worships well: I thanke you for my Venison Master Shallow
Shal. Master Page, I am glad to see you: much good doe it your good heart: I wish'd your Venison better, it was ill killd: how doth good Mistresse Page? and I thank you alwaies with my heart, la: with my heart
M.Page. Sir, I thanke you
Shal. Sir, I thanke you: by yea, and no I doe
M.Pa. I am glad to see you, good Master Slender
Slen. How do's your fallow Greyhound, Sir, I heard say he was out-run on Cotsall
M.Pa. It could not be iudg'd, Sir
Slen. You'll not confesse: you'll not confesse
Shal. That he will not, 'tis your fault, 'tis your fault: 'tis a good dogge
M.Pa. A Cur, Sir
Shal. Sir: hee's a good dog, and a faire dog, can there be more said? he is good, and faire. Is Sir Iohn Falstaffe heere? M.Pa. Sir, hee is within: and I would I could doe a good office betweene you
Euan. It is spoke as a Christians ought to speake
Shal. He hath wrong'd me (Master Page.)
M.Pa. Sir, he doth in some sort confesse it
Shal. If it be confessed, it is not redressed; is not that so (M[aster]. Page?) he hath wrong'd me, indeed he hath, at a word he hath: beleeue me, Robert Shallow Esquire, saith he is wronged
Ma.Pa. Here comes Sir Iohn
Fal. Now, Master Shallow, you'll complaine of me to
the King?
Shal. Knight, you haue beaten my men, kill'd my
deere, and broke open my Lodge
Fal. But not kiss'd your Keepers daughter?
Shal. Tut, a pin: this shall be answer'd
Fal. I will answere it strait, I haue done all this:
That is now answer'd
Shal. The Councell shall know this
Fal. 'Twere better for you if it were known in councell: you'll be laugh'd at
Eu. Pauca verba; (Sir Iohn) good worts
Fal. Good worts? good Cabidge; Slender, I broke your head: what matter haue you against me? Slen. Marry sir, I haue matter in my head against you, and against your cony-catching Rascalls, Bardolf, Nym, and Pistoll
Bar. You Banbery Cheese
Slen. I, it is no matter
Pist. How now, Mephostophilus?
Slen. I, it is no matter
Nym. Slice, I say; pauca, pauca: Slice, that's my humor
Slen. Where's Simple my man? can you tell, Cosen? Eua. Peace, I pray you: now let vs vnderstand: there is three Vmpires in this matter, as I vnderstand; that is, Master Page (fidelicet Master Page,) & there is my selfe, (fidelicet my selfe) and the three party is (lastly, and finally) mine Host of the Garter
Ma.Pa. We three to hear it, & end it between them
Euan. Ferry goo't, I will make a priefe of it in my note-booke, and we wil afterwards orke vpon the cause, with as great discreetly as we can
Fal. Pistoll
Pist. He heares with eares
Euan. The Teuill and his Tam: what phrase is this? he heares with eare? why, it is affectations
Fal. Pistoll, did you picke M[aster]. Slenders purse? Slen. I, by these gloues did hee, or I would I might neuer come in mine owne great chamber againe else, of seauen groates in mill-sixpences, and two Edward Shouelboords, that cost me two shilling and two pence a peece of Yead Miller: by these gloues
Fal. Is this true, Pistoll?
Euan. No, it is false, if it is a picke-purse
Pist. Ha, thou mountaine Forreyner: Sir Iohn, and Master mine, I combat challenge of this Latine Bilboe: word of deniall in thy labras here; word of denial; froth, and scum thou liest
Slen. By these gloues, then 'twas he
Nym. Be auis'd sir, and passe good humours: I will say marry trap with you, if you runne the nut-hooks humor on me, that is the very note of it
Slen. By this hat, then he in the red face had it: for though I cannot remember what I did when you made me drunke, yet I am not altogether an asse
Fal. What say you Scarlet, and Iohn?
Bar. Why sir, (for my part) I say the Gentleman had
drunke himselfe out of his fiue sentences
Eu. It is his fiue sences: fie, what the ignorance is
Bar. And being fap, sir, was (as they say) casheerd: and so conclusions past the Careires
Slen. I, you spake in Latten then to: but 'tis no matter; Ile nere be drunk whilst I liue againe, but in honest, ciuill, godly company for this tricke: if I be drunke, Ile be drunke with those that haue the feare of God, and not with drunken knaues
Euan. So got-udge me, that is a vertuous minde
Fal. You heare all these matters deni'd, Gentlemen;
you heare it
Mr.Page. Nay daughter, carry the wine in, wee'll
drinke within
Slen. Oh heauen: This is Mistresse Anne Page
Mr.Page. How now Mistris Ford?
Fal. Mistris Ford, by my troth you are very wel met:
by your leaue good Mistris
Mr.Page. Wife, bid these gentlemen welcome: come, we haue a hot Venison pasty to dinner; Come gentlemen, I hope we shall drinke downe all vnkindnesse
Slen. I had rather then forty shillings I had my booke of Songs and Sonnets heere: How now Simple, where haue you beene? I must wait on my selfe, must I? you haue not the booke of Riddles about you, haue you? Sim. Booke of Riddles? why did you not lend it to Alice Short-cake vpon Alhallowmas last, a fortnight afore Michaelmas
Shal. Come Coz, come Coz, we stay for you: a word with you Coz: marry this, Coz: there is as 'twere a tender, a kinde of tender, made a farre-off by Sir Hugh here: doe you vnderstand me? Slen. I Sir, you shall finde me reasonable; if it be so, I shall doe that that is reason
Shal. Nay, but vnderstand me
Slen. So I doe Sir
Euan. Giue eare to his motions; (Mr. Slender) I will description the matter to you, if you be capacity of it
Slen. Nay, I will doe as my Cozen Shallow saies: I pray you pardon me, he's a Iustice of Peace in his Countrie, simple though I stand here
Euan. But that is not the question: the question is concerning your marriage
Shal. I, there's the point Sir
Eu. Marry is it: the very point of it, to Mi[stris]. An Page
Slen. Why if it be so; I will marry her vpon any reasonable demands
Eu. But can you affection the 'oman, let vs command to know that of your mouth, or of your lips: for diuers Philosophers hold, that the lips is parcell of the mouth: therfore precisely, ca[n] you carry your good wil to y maid? Sh. Cosen Abraham Slender, can you loue her? Slen. I hope sir, I will do as it shall become one that would doe reason
Eu. Nay, got's Lords, and his Ladies, you must speake
possitable, if you can carry-her your desires towards her
Shal. That you must:
Will you, (vpon good dowry) marry her?
Slen. I will doe a greater thing then that, vpon your
request (Cosen) in any reason
Shal. Nay conceiue me, conceiue mee, (sweet Coz): What I doe is to pleasure you (Coz:) can you loue the maid? Slen. I will marry her (Sir) at your request; but if there bee no great loue in the beginning, yet Heauen may decrease it vpon better acquaintance, when wee are married, and haue more occasion to know one another: I hope vpon familiarity will grow more content: but if you say mary-her, I will mary-her, that I am freely dissolued, and dissolutely
Eu. It is a fery discretion-answere; saue the fall is in the 'ord, dissolutely: the ort is (according to our meaning) resolutely: his meaning is good
Sh. I: I thinke my Cosen meant well
Sl. I, or else I would I might be hang'd (la.)
Sh. Here comes faire Mistris Anne; would I were
yong for your sake, Mistris Anne
An. The dinner is on the Table, my Father desires
your worships company
Sh. I will wait on him, (faire Mistris Anne.)
Eu. Od's plessed-wil: I wil not be abse[n]ce at the grace
An. Wil't please your worship to come in, Sir?
Sl. No, I thank you forsooth, hartely; I am very well
An. The dinner attends you, Sir
Sl. I am not a-hungry, I thanke you, forsooth: goe,
Sirha, for all you are my man, goe wait vpon my Cosen
Shallow: a Iustice of peace sometime may be beholding
to his friend, for a Man; I keepe but three Men, and a
Boy yet, till my Mother be dead: but what though, yet
I liue like a poore Gentleman borne
An. I may not goe in without your worship: they
will not sit till you come
Sl. I' faith, ile eate nothing: I thanke you as much as
though I did
An. I pray you Sir walke in
Sl. I had rather walke here (I thanke you) I bruiz'd my shin th' other day, with playing at Sword and Dagger with a Master of Fence (three veneys for a dish of stew'd Prunes) and by my troth, I cannot abide the smell of hot meate since. Why doe your dogs barke so? be there Beares ith' Towne? An. I thinke there are, Sir, I heard them talk'd of
Sl. I loue the sport well, but I shall as soone quarrell
at it, as any man in England: you are afraid if you see the
Beare loose, are you not?
An. I indeede Sir
Sl. That's meate and drinke to me now: I haue seene Saskerson loose, twenty times, and haue taken him by the Chaine: but (I warrant you) the women haue so cride and shrekt at it, that it past: But women indeede, cannot abide 'em, they are very ill-fauour'd rough things
Ma.Pa. Come, gentle M[aster]. Slender, come; we stay for you
Sl. Ile eate nothing, I thanke you Sir
Ma.Pa. By cocke and pie, you shall not choose, Sir: come, come
Sl. Nay, pray you lead the way
Ma.Pa. Come on, Sir
Sl. Mistris Anne: your selfe shall goe first
An. Not I Sir, pray you keepe on
Sl. Truely I will not goe first: truely-la: I will not doe you that wrong
An. I pray you Sir
Sl. Ile rather be vnmannerly, then troublesome: you doe your selfe wrong indeede-la.
Exeunt.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Euans, and Simple.
Eu. Go your waies, and aske of Doctor Caius house, which is the way; and there dwels one Mistris Quickly; which is in the manner of his Nurse; or his dry-Nurse; or his Cooke; or his Laundry; his Washer, and his Ringer
Si. Well Sir
Eu. Nay, it is petter yet: giue her this letter; for it is a 'oman that altogeathers acquainta[n]ce with Mistris Anne Page; and the Letter is to desire, and require her to solicite your Masters desires, to Mistris Anne Page: I pray you be gon: I will make an end of my dinner; ther's Pippins and Cheese to come.
Exeunt.
Scena Tertia.
Enter Falstaffe, Host, Bardolfe, Nym, Pistoll, Page.
Fal. Mine Host of the Garter?
Ho. What saies my Bully Rooke? speake schollerly,
and wisely
Fal. Truely mine Host; I must turne away some of my
followers
Ho. Discard, (bully Hercules) casheere; let them wag;
trot, trot
Fal. I sit at ten pounds a weeke
Ho. Thou'rt an Emperor (Cesar, Keiser and Pheazar)
I will entertaine Bardolfe: he shall draw; he shall tap; said
I well (bully Hector?)
Fa. Doe so (good mine Host.)
Ho. I haue spoke; let him follow; let me see thee froth,
and liue: I am at a word: follow
Fal. Bardolfe, follow him: a Tapster is a good trade: an old Cloake, makes a new Ierkin: a wither'd Seruingman, a fresh Tapster: goe, adew
Ba. It is a life that I haue desir'd: I will thriue
Pist. O base hungarian wight: wilt y the spigot wield
Ni. He was gotten in drink: is not the humor co[n]ceited?
Fal. I am glad I am so acquit of this Tinderbox: his
Thefts were too open: his filching was like an vnskilfull
Singer, he kept not time
Ni. The good humor is to steale at a minutes rest
Pist. Conuay: the wise it call: Steale? foh: a fico for the phrase
Fal. Well sirs, I am almost out at heeles
Pist. Why then let Kibes ensue
Fal. There is no remedy: I must conicatch, I must shift
Pist. Yong Rauens must haue foode
Fal. Which of you know Ford of this Towne?
Pist. I ken the wight: he is of substance good
Fal. My honest Lads, I will tell you what I am about
Pist. Two yards, and more
Fal. No quips now Pistoll: (Indeede I am in the waste two yards about: but I am now about no waste: I am about thrift) briefely: I doe meane to make loue to Fords wife: I spie entertainment in her: shee discourses: shee carues: she giues the leere of inuitation: I can construe the action of her familier stile, & the hardest voice of her behauior (to be english'd rightly) is, I am Sir Iohn Falstafs
Pist. He hath studied her will; and translated her will:
out of honesty, into English
Ni. The Anchor is deepe: will that humor passe?
Fal. Now, the report goes, she has all the rule of her
husbands Purse: he hath a legend of Angels
Pist. As many diuels entertaine: and to her Boy say I
Ni. The humor rises: it is good: humor me the angels
Fal. I haue writ me here a letter to her: & here another to Pages wife, who euen now gaue mee good eyes too; examind my parts with most iudicious illiads: sometimes the beame of her view, guilded my foote: sometimes my portly belly
Pist. Then did the Sun on dung-hill shine
Ni. I thanke thee for that humour
Fal. O she did so course o're my exteriors with such a greedy intention, that the appetite of her eye, did seeme to scorch me vp like a burning-glasse: here's another letter to her: She beares the Purse too: She is a Region in Guiana: all gold, and bountie: I will be Cheaters to them both, and they shall be Exchequers to mee: they shall be my East and West Indies, and I will trade to them both: Goe, beare thou this Letter to Mistris Page; and thou this to Mistris Ford: we will thriue (Lads) we will thriue
Pist. Shall I Sir Pandarus of Troy become,
And by my side weare Steele? then Lucifer take all
Ni. I will run no base humor: here take the humor-Letter;
I will keepe the hauior of reputation
Fal. Hold Sirha, beare you these Letters tightly,
Saile like my Pinnasse to these golden shores.
Rogues, hence, auaunt, vanish like haile-stones; goe,
Trudge; plod away ith' hoofe: seeke shelter, packe:
Falstaffe will learne the honor of the age,
French-thrift, you Rogues, my selfe, and skirted Page
Pist. Let Vultures gripe thy guts: for gourd, and
Fullam holds: & high and low beguiles the rich & poore,
Tester ile haue in pouch when thou shalt lacke,
Base Phrygian Turke
Ni. I haue opperations,
Which be humors of reuenge
Pist. Wilt thou reuenge?
Ni. By Welkin, and her Star
Pist. With wit, or Steele?
Ni. With both the humors, I:
I will discusse the humour of this Loue to Ford
Pist. And I to Page shall eke vnfold
How Falstaffe (varlet vile)
His Doue will proue; his gold will hold,
And his soft couch defile
Ni. My humour shall not coole: I will incense Ford to deale with poyson: I will possesse him with yallownesse, for the reuolt of mine is dangerous: that is my true humour
Pist. Thou art the Mars of Malecontents: I second thee: troope on.
Exeunt.
Scoena Quarta.
Enter Mistris Quickly, Simple, Iohn Rugby, Doctor, Caius, Fenton.
Qu. What, Iohn Rugby, I pray thee goe to the Casement, and see if you can see my Master, Master Docter Caius comming: if he doe (I' faith) and finde any body in the house; here will be an old abusing of Gods patience, and the Kings English
Ru. Ile goe watch
Qu. Goe, and we'll haue a posset for't soone at night, (in faith) at the latter end of a Sea-cole-fire: An honest, willing, kinde fellow, as euer seruant shall come in house withall: and I warrant you, no tel-tale, nor no breedebate: his worst fault is, that he is giuen to prayer; hee is something peeuish that way: but no body but has his fault: but let that passe. Peter Simple, you say your name is? Si. I: for fault of a better
Qu. And Master Slender's your Master?
Si. I forsooth
Qu. Do's he not weare a great round Beard, like a
Glouers pairing-knife?
Si. No forsooth: he hath but a little wee-face; with
a little yellow Beard: a Caine colourd Beard
Qu. A softly-sprighted man, is he not?
Si. I forsooth: but he is as tall a man of his hands, as
any is betweene this and his head: he hath fought with
a Warrener
Qu. How say you: oh, I should remember him: do's
he not hold vp his head (as it were?) and strut in his gate?
Si. Yes indeede do's he
Qu. Well, heauen send Anne Page, no worse fortune:
Tell Master Parson Euans, I will doe what I can for your
Master: Anne is a good girle, and I wish -
Ru. Out alas: here comes my Master
Qu. We shall all be shent: Run in here, good young man: goe into this Closset: he will not stay long: what Iohn Rugby? Iohn: what Iohn I say? goe Iohn, goe enquire for my Master, I doubt he be not well, that hee comes not home: (and downe, downe, adowne'a. &c
Ca. Vat is you sing? I doe not like des-toyes: pray you goe and vetch me in my Closset, vnboyteere verd; a Box, a greene-a-Box: do intend vat I speake? a greene-a-Box
Qu. I forsooth ile fetch it you: I am glad hee went not in himselfe: if he had found the yong man he would haue bin horne-mad
Ca. Fe, fe, fe, fe, mai foy, il fait for ehando, Ie man voi a le
Court la grand affaires
Qu. Is it this Sir?
Ca. Ouy mette le au mon pocket, depeech quickly:
Vere is dat knaue Rugby?
Qu. What Iohn Rugby, Iohn?
Ru. Here Sir
Ca. You are Iohn Rugby, and you are Iacke Rugby: Come, take-a-your Rapier, and come after my heele to the Court
Ru. 'Tis ready Sir, here in the Porch
Ca. By my trot: I tarry too long: od's-me: que ay ie oublie: dere is some Simples in my Closset, dat I vill not for the varld I shall leaue behinde
Qu. Ay-me, he'll finde the yong man there, & be mad
Ca. O Diable, Diable: vat is in my Closset?
Villanie, Laroone: Rugby, my Rapier
Qu. Good Master be content
Ca. Wherefore shall I be content-a?
Qu. The yong man is an honest man
Ca. What shall de honest man do in my Closset: dere
is no honest man dat shall come in my Closset
Qu. I beseech you be not so flegmaticke: heare the truth of it. He came of an errand to mee, from Parson Hugh
Ca. Vell
Si. I forsooth: to desire her to -
Qu. Peace, I pray you
Ca. Peace-a-your tongue: speake-a-your Tale
Si. To desire this honest Gentlewoman (your Maid) to speake a good word to Mistris Anne Page, for my Master in the way of Marriage
Qu. This is all indeede-la: but ile nere put my finger
in the fire, and neede not
Ca. Sir Hugh send-a you? Rugby, ballow mee some
paper: tarry you a littell-a-while
Qui. I am glad he is so quiet: if he had bin throughly moued, you should haue heard him so loud, and so melancholly: but notwithstanding man, Ile doe yoe your Master what good I can: and the very yea, & the no is, y French Doctor my Master, (I may call him my Master, looke you, for I keepe his house; and I wash, ring, brew, bake, scowre, dresse meat and drinke, make the beds, and doe all my selfe.) Simp. 'Tis a great charge to come vnder one bodies hand
Qui. Are you auis'd o'that? you shall finde it a great charge: and to be vp early, and down late: but notwithstanding, (to tell you in your eare, I wold haue no words of it) my Master himselfe is in loue with Mistris Anne Page: but notwithstanding that I know Ans mind, that's neither heere nor there
Caius. You, Iack'Nape: giue-'a this Letter to Sir Hugh, by gar it is a shallenge: I will cut his troat in de Parke, and I will teach a scuruy Iackanape Priest to meddle, or make:- you may be gon: it is not good you tarry here: by gar I will cut all his two stones: by gar, he shall not haue a stone to throw at his dogge
Qui. Alas: he speakes but for his friend
Caius. It is no matter 'a ver dat: do not you tell-a-me dat I shall haue Anne Page for my selfe? by gar, I vill kill de Iack-Priest: and I haue appointed mine Host of de Iarteer to measure our weapon: by gar, I wil my selfe haue Anne Page
Qui. Sir, the maid loues you, and all shall bee well:
We must giue folkes leaue to prate: what the goodier
Caius. Rugby, come to the Court with me: by gar, if I haue not Anne Page, I shall turne your head out of my dore: follow my heeles, Rugby
Qui. You shall haue An-fooles head of your owne: No, I know Ans mind for that: neuer a woman in Windsor knowes more of Ans minde then I doe, nor can doe more then I doe with her, I thanke heauen
Fenton. Who's with in there, hoa?
Qui. Who's there, I troa? Come neere the house I
pray you
Fen. How now (good woman) how dost thou?
Qui. The better that it pleases your good Worship
to aske?
Fen. What newes? how do's pretty Mistris Anne?
Qui. In truth Sir, and shee is pretty, and honest, and
gentle, and one that is your friend, I can tell you that by
the way, I praise heauen for it
Fen. Shall I doe any good thinkst thou? shall I not loose my suit? Qui. Troth Sir, all is in his hands aboue: but notwithstanding (Master Fenton) Ile be sworne on a booke shee loues you: haue not your Worship a wart aboue your eye? Fen. Yes marry haue I, what of that? Qui. Wel, thereby hangs a tale: good faith, it is such another Nan; (but (I detest) an honest maid as euer broke bread: wee had an howres talke of that wart; I shall neuer laugh but in that maids company: but (indeed) shee is giuen too much to Allicholy and musing: but for you - well - goe too - Fen. Well: I shall see her to day: hold, there's money for thee: Let mee haue thy voice in my behalfe: if thou seest her before me, commend me. - Qui. Will I? I faith that wee will: And I will tell your Worship more of the Wart, the next time we haue confidence, and of other wooers
Fen. Well, fare-well, I am in great haste now
Qui. Fare-well to your Worship: truely an honest Gentleman: but Anne loues him not: for I know Ans minde as well as another do's: out vpon't: what haue I forgot.
Enter.
Actus Secundus. Scoena Prima.
Enter Mistris Page, Mistris Ford, Master Page, Master Ford,
Pistoll, Nim,
Quickly, Host, Shallow.
Mist.Page. What, haue scap'd Loue-letters in the holly-day-time of my beauty, and am I now a subiect for them? let me see? Aske me no reason why I loue you, for though Loue vse Reason for his precisian, hee admits him not for his Counsailour: you are not yong, no more am I: goe to then, there's simpathie: you are merry, so am I: ha, ha, then there's more simpathie: you loue sacke, and so do I: would you desire better simpathie? Let it suffice thee (Mistris Page) at the least if the Loue of Souldier can suffice, that I loue thee: I will not say pitty mee, 'tis not a Souldier-like phrase; but I say, loue me: By me, thine owne true Knight, by day or night: Or any kinde of light, with all his might, For thee to fight. Iohn Falstaffe. What a Herod of Iurie is this? O wicked, wicked world: One that is well-nye worne to peeces with age To show himselfe a yong Gallant? What an vnwaied Behauiour hath this Flemish drunkard pickt (with The Deuills name) out of my conuersation, that he dares In this manner assay me? why, hee hath not beene thrice In my Company: what should I say to him? I was then Frugall of my mirth: (heauen forgiue mee:) why Ile Exhibit a Bill in the Parliament for the putting downe of men: how shall I be reueng'd on him? for reueng'd I will be? as sure as his guts are made of puddings
Mis.Ford. Mistris Page, trust me, I was going to your
house
Mis.Page. And trust me, I was comming to you: you
looke very ill
Mis.Ford. Nay Ile nere beleeue that; I haue to shew
to the contrary
Mis.Page. 'Faith but you doe in my minde
Mis.Ford. Well: I doe then: yet I say, I could shew you to the contrary: O Mistris Page, giue mee some counsaile
Mis.Page. What's the matter, woman?
Mi.Ford. O woman: if it were not for one trifling respect,
I could come to such honour
Mi.Page. Hang the trifle (woman) take the honour:
what is it? dispence with trifles: what is it?
Mi.Ford. If I would but goe to hell, for an eternall
moment, or so: I could be knighted
Mi.Page. What thou liest? Sir Alice Ford? these Knights will hacke, and so thou shouldst not alter the article of thy Gentry
Mi.Ford. Wee burne day-light: heere, read, read: perceiue how I might bee knighted, I shall thinke the worse of fat men, as long as I haue an eye to make difference of mens liking: and yet hee would not sweare: praise womens modesty: and gaue such orderly and welbehaued reproofe to al vncomelinesse, that I would haue sworne his disposition would haue gone to the truth of his words: but they doe no more adhere and keep place together, then the hundred Psalms to the tune of Greensleeues: What tempest (I troa) threw this Whale, (with so many Tuns of oyle in his belly) a'shoare at Windsor? How shall I bee reuenged on him? I thinke the best way were, to entertaine him with hope, till the wicked fire of lust haue melted him in his owne greace: Did you euer heare the like? Mis.Page. Letter for letter; but that the name of Page and Ford differs: to thy great comfort in this mystery of ill opinions, heere's the twyn-brother of thy Letter: but let thine inherit first, for I protest mine neuer shall: I warrant he hath a thousand of these Letters, writ with blancke-space for different names (sure more): and these are of the second edition: hee will print them out of doubt: for he cares not what hee puts into the presse, when he would put vs two: I had rather be a Giantesse, and lye vnder Mount Pelion: Well; I will find you twentie lasciuious Turtles ere one chaste man
Mis.Ford. Why this is the very same: the very hand: the very words: what doth he thinke of vs? Mis.Page. Nay I know not: it makes me almost readie to wrangle with mine owne honesty: Ile entertaine my selfe like one that I am not acquainted withall: for sure vnlesse hee know some straine in mee, that I know not my selfe, hee would neuer haue boorded me in this furie
Mi.Ford. Boording, call you it? Ile bee sure to keepe him aboue decke
Mi.Page. So will I: if hee come vnder my hatches, Ile neuer to Sea againe: Let's bee reueng'd on him: let's appoint him a meeting: giue him a show of comfort in his Suit, and lead him on with a fine baited delay, till hee hath pawn'd his horses to mine Host of the Garter
Mi.Ford. Nay, I wil consent to act any villany against him, that may not sully the charinesse of our honesty: oh that my husband saw this Letter: it would giue eternall food to his iealousie
Mis.Page. Why look where he comes; and my good man too: hee's as farre from iealousie, as I am from giuing him cause, and that (I hope) is an vnmeasurable distance
Mis.Ford. You are the happier woman
Mis.Page. Let's consult together against this greasie
Knight: Come hither
Ford. Well: I hope, it be not so
Pist. Hope is a curtall-dog in some affaires:
Sir Iohn affects thy wife
Ford. Why sir, my wife is not young
Pist. He wooes both high and low, both rich & poor, both yong and old, one with another (Ford) he loues the Gally-mawfry (Ford) perpend
Ford. Loue my wife?
Pist. With liuer, burning hot: preuent:
Or goe thou like Sir Acteon he, with
Ring-wood at thy heeles: O, odious is the name
Ford. What name Sir?
Pist. The horne I say: Farewell:
Take heed, haue open eye, for theeues doe foot by night.
Take heed, ere sommer comes, or Cuckoo-birds do sing.
Away sir Corporall Nim:
Beleeue it (Page) he speakes sence
Ford. I will be patient: I will find out this
Nim. And this is true: I like not the humor of lying: hee hath wronged mee in some humors: I should haue borne the humour'd Letter to her: but I haue a sword: and it shall bite vpon my necessitie: he loues your wife; There's the short and the long: My name is Corporall Nim: I speak, and I auouch; 'tis true: my name is Nim: and Falstaffe loues your wife: adieu, I loue not the humour of bread and cheese: adieu
Page. The humour of it (quoth 'a?) heere's a fellow frights English out of his wits
Ford. I will seeke out Falstaffe
Page. I neuer heard such a drawling-affecting rogue
Ford. If I doe finde it: well
Page. I will not beleeue such a Cataian, though the
Priest o' th' Towne commended him for a true man
Ford. 'Twas a good sensible fellow: well
Page. How now Meg?
Mist.Page. Whether goe you (George?) harke you
Mis.Ford. How now (sweet Frank) why art thou melancholy?
Ford. I melancholy? I am not melancholy:
Get you home: goe
Mis.Ford. Faith, thou hast some crochets in thy head,
Now: will you goe, Mistris Page?
Mis.Page. Haue with you: you'll come to dinner
George? Looke who comes yonder: shee shall bee our
Messenger to this paltrie Knight
Mis.Ford. Trust me, I thought on her: shee'll fit it
Mis.Page. You are come to see my daughter Anne?
Qui. I forsooth: and I pray how do's good Mistresse
Anne?
Mis.Page. Go in with vs and see: we haue an houres
talke with you
Page. How now Master Ford?
For. You heard what this knaue told me, did you not?
Page. Yes, and you heard what the other told me?
Ford. Doe you thinke there is truth in them?
Pag. Hang 'em slaues: I doe not thinke the Knight
would offer it: But these that accuse him in his intent
towards our wiues, are a yoake of his discarded men: very
rogues, now they be out of seruice
Ford. Were they his men?
Page. Marry were they
Ford. I like it neuer the beter for that, Do's he lye at the Garter? Page. I marry do's he: if hee should intend this voyage toward my wife, I would turne her loose to him; and what hee gets more of her, then sharpe words, let it lye on my head
Ford. I doe not misdoubt my wife: but I would bee loath to turne them together: a man may be too confident: I would haue nothing lye on my head: I cannot be thus satisfied
Page. Looke where my ranting-Host of the Garter comes: there is eyther liquor in his pate, or mony in his purse, when hee lookes so merrily: How now mine Host? Host. How now Bully-Rooke: thou'rt a Gentleman Caueleiro Iustice, I say
Shal. I follow, (mine Host) I follow: Good-euen, and twenty (good Master Page.) Master Page, wil you go with vs? we haue sport in hand
Host. Tell him Caueleiro-Iustice: tell him Bully-Rooke
Shall. Sir, there is a fray to be fought, betweene Sir
Hugh the Welch Priest, and Caius the French Doctor
Ford. Good mine Host o'th' Garter: a word with you
Host. What saist thou, my Bully-Rooke? Shal. Will you goe with vs to behold it? My merry Host hath had the measuring of their weapons; and (I thinke) hath appointed them contrary places: for (beleeue mee) I heare the Parson is no Iester: harke, I will tell you what our sport shall be
Host. Hast thou no suit against my Knight? my guest-Caualeire?
Shal. None, I protest: but Ile giue you a pottle of
burn'd sacke, to giue me recourse to him, and tell him
my name is Broome: onely for a iest
Host. My hand, (Bully:) thou shalt haue egresse and
regresse, (said I well?) and thy name shall be Broome. It
is a merry Knight: will you goe An-heires?
Shal. Haue with you mine Host
Page. I haue heard the French-man hath good skill
in his Rapier
Shal. Tut sir: I could haue told you more: In these times you stand on distance: your Passes, Stoccado's, and I know not what: 'tis the heart (Master Page) 'tis heere, 'tis heere: I haue seene the time, with my long-sword, I would haue made you fowre tall fellowes skippe like Rattes
Host. Heere boyes, heere, heere: shall we wag?
Page. Haue with you: I had rather heare them scold,
then fight
Ford. Though Page be a secure foole, and stands so firmely on his wiues frailty; yet, I cannot put-off my opinion so easily: she was in his company at Pages house: and what they made there, I know not. Well, I wil looke further into't, and I haue a disguise, to sound Falstaffe; if I finde her honest, I loose not my labor: if she be otherwise, 'tis labour well bestowed.
Exeunt.
Scoena Secunda.
Enter Falstaffe, Pistoll, Robin, Quickly, Bardolffe, Ford.
Fal. I will not lend thee a penny
Pist. Why then the world's mine Oyster, which I, with sword will open
Fal. Not a penny: I haue beene content (Sir,) you should lay my countenance to pawne: I haue grated vpon my good friends for three Repreeues for you, and your Coach-fellow Nim; or else you had look'd through the grate, like a Geminy of Baboones: I am damn'd in hell, for swearing to Gentlemen my friends, you were good Souldiers, and tall-fellowes. And when Mistresse Briget lost the handle of her Fan, I took't vpon mine honour thou hadst it not
Pist. Didst not thou share? hadst thou not fifteene pence? Fal. Reason, you roague, reason: thinkst thou Ile endanger my soule, gratis? at a word, hang no more about mee, I am no gibbet for you: goe, a short knife, and a throng, to your Mannor of Pickt-hatch: goe, you'll not beare a Letter for mee you roague? you stand vpon your honor: why, (thou vnconfinable basenesse) it is as much as I can doe to keepe the termes of my honor precise: I, I, I my selfe sometimes, leauing the feare of heauen on the left hand, and hiding mine honor in my necessity, am faine to shufflle: to hedge, and to lurch, and yet, you Rogue, will en-sconce your raggs; your Cat-a-Mountaine-lookes, your red-lattice phrases, and your boldbeating-oathes, vnder the shelter of your honor? you will not doe it? you?
Pist. I doe relent: what would thou more of man?
Robin. Sir, here's a woman would speake with you
Fal. Let her approach
Qui. Giue your worship good morrow
Fal. Good-morrow, good-wife
Qui. Not so, and't please your worship
Fal. Good maid then
Qui. Ile be sworne,
As my mother was the first houre I was borne
Fal. I doe beleeue the swearer; what with me?
Qui. Shall I vouch-safe your worship a word, or
two?
Fal. Two thousand (faire woman) and ile vouchsafe
thee the hearing
Qui. There is one Mistresse Ford, (Sir) I pray come a
little neerer this waies: I my selfe dwell with M[aster]. Doctor
Caius:
Fal. Well, on; Mistresse Ford, you say
Qui. Your worship saies very true: I pray your worship
come a little neerer this waies
Fal. I warrant thee, no-bodie heares: mine owne
people, mine owne people
Qui. Are they so? heauen-blesse them, and make
them his Seruants
Fal. Well; Mistresse Ford, what of her?
Qui. Why, Sir; shee's a good-creature; Lord, Lord, your Worship's a wanton: well: heauen forgiue you, and all of vs, I pray -
Fal. Mistresse Ford: come, Mistresse Ford
Qui. Marry this is the short, and the long of it: you haue brought her into such a Canaries, as 'tis wonderfull: the best Courtier of them all (when the Court lay at Windsor) could neuer haue brought her to such a Canarie: yet there has beene Knights, and Lords, and Gentlemen, with their Coaches; I warrant you Coach after Coach, letter after letter, gift after gift, smelling so sweetly; all Muske, and so rushling, I warrant you, in silke and golde, and in such alligant termes, and in such wine and suger of the best, and the fairest, that would haue wonne any womans heart: and I warrant you, they could neuer get an eye-winke of her: I had my selfe twentie Angels giuen me this morning, but I defie all Angels (in any such sort, as they say) but in the way of honesty: and I warrant you, they could neuer get her so much as sippe on a cup with the prowdest of them all, and yet there has beene Earles: nay, (which is more) Pentioners, but I warrant you all is one with her
Fal. But what saies shee to mee? be briefe my good sheeMercurie
Qui. Marry, she hath receiu'd your Letter: for the which she thankes you a thousand times; and she giues you to notifie, that her husband will be absence from his house, betweene ten and eleuen
Fal. Ten, and eleuen
Qui. I, forsooth: and then you may come and see the picture (she sayes) that you wot of: Master Ford her husband will be from home: alas, the sweet woman leades an ill life with him: hee's a very iealousie-man; she leads a very frampold life with him, (good hart.)
Fal. Ten, and eleuen.
Woman, commend me to her, I will not faile her
Qui. Why, you say well: But I haue another messenger to your worship: Mistresse Page hath her heartie commendations to you to: and let mee tell you in your eare, shee's as fartuous a ciuill modest wife, and one (I tell you) that will not misse you morning nor euening prayer, as any is in Windsor, who ere bee the other: and shee bade me tell your worship, that her husband is seldome from home, but she hopes there will come a time. I neuer knew a woman so doate vpon a man; surely I thinke you haue charmes, la: yes in truth
Fal. Not I, I assure thee; setting the attraction of my good parts aside, I haue no other charmes
Qui. Blessing on your heart for't
Fal. But I pray thee tell me this: has Fords wife, and
Pages wife acquainted each other, how they loue me?
Qui. That were a iest indeed: they haue not so little grace I hope, that were a tricke indeed: But Mistris Page would desire you to send her your little Page of al loues: her husband has a maruellous infectio[n] to the little Page: and truely Master Page is an honest man: neuer a wife in Windsor leades a better life then she do's: doe what shee will, say what she will, take all, pay all, goe to bed when she list, rise when she list, all is as she will: and truly she deserues it; for if there be a kinde woman in Windsor, she is one: you must send her your Page, no remedie
Fal. Why, I will
Qu. Nay, but doe so then, and looke you, hee may come and goe betweene you both: and in any case haue a nay-word, that you may know one anothers minde, and the Boy neuer neede to vnderstand any thing; for 'tis not good that children should know any wickednes: olde folkes you know, haue discretion, as they say, and know the world
Fal. Farethee-well, commend mee to them both: there's my purse, I am yet thy debter: Boy, goe along with this woman, this newes distracts me
Pist. This Puncke is one of Cupids Carriers,
Clap on more sailes, pursue: vp with your sights:
Giue fire: she is my prize, or Ocean whelme them all
Fal. Saist thou so (old Iacke) go thy waies: Ile make more of thy olde body then I haue done: will they yet looke after thee? wilt thou after the expence of so much money, be now a gainer? good Body, I thanke thee: let them say 'tis grossely done, so it bee fairely done, no matter
Bar. Sir Iohn, there's one Master Broome below would faine speake with you, and be acquainted with you; and hath sent your worship a mornings draught of Sacke
Fal. Broome is his name?
Bar. I Sir
Fal. Call him in: such Broomes are welcome to mee, that ore'flowes such liquor: ah ha, Mistresse Ford and Mistresse Page, haue I encompass'd you? goe to, via
Ford. 'Blesse you sir
Fal. And you sir: would you speake with me?
Ford. I make bold, to presse, with so little preparation
vpon you
Fal. You'r welcome, what's your will? giue vs leaue
Drawer
Ford. Sir, I am a Gentleman that haue spent much,
my name is Broome
Fal. Good Master Broome, I desire more acquaintance
of you
Ford. Good Sir Iohn, I sue for yours: not to charge you, for I must let you vnderstand, I thinke my selfe in better plight for a Lender, then you are: the which hath something emboldned me to this vnseason'd intrusion: for they say, if money goe before, all waies doe lye open
Fal. Money is a good Souldier (Sir) and will on
Ford. Troth, and I haue a bag of money heere troubles me: if you will helpe to beare it (Sir Iohn) take all, or halfe, for easing me of the carriage
Fal. Sir, I know not how I may deserue to bee your
Porter
Ford. I will tell you sir, if you will giue mee the hearing
Fal. Speake (good Master Broome) I shall be glad to be your Seruant
Ford. Sir, I heare you are a Scholler: (I will be briefe with you) and you haue been a man long knowne to me, though I had neuer so good means as desire, to make my selfe acquainted with you. I shall discouer a thing to you, wherein I must very much lay open mine owne imperfection: but (good Sir Iohn) as you haue one eye vpon my follies, as you heare them vnfolded, turne another into the Register of your owne, that I may passe with a reproofe the easier, sith you your selfe know how easie it is to be such an offender
Fal. Very well Sir, proceed
Ford. There is a Gentlewoman in this Towne, her husbands name is Ford
Fal. Well Sir
Ford. I haue long lou'd her, and I protest to you, bestowed much on her: followed her with a doating obseruance: Ingross'd opportunities to meete her: fee'd euery slight occasion that could but nigardly giue mee sight of her: not only bought many presents to giue her, but haue giuen largely to many, to know what shee would haue giuen: briefly, I haue pursu'd her, as Loue hath pursued mee, which hath beene on the wing of all occasions: but whatsoeuer I haue merited, either in my minde, or in my meanes, meede I am sure I haue receiued none, vnlesse Experience be a Iewell, that I haue purchased at an infinite rate, and that hath taught mee to say this, ``Loue like a shadow flies, when substance Loue pursues, ``Pursuing that that flies, and flying what pursues
Fal. Haue you receiu'd no promise of satisfaction at
her hands?
Ford. Neuer
Fal. Haue you importun'd her to such a purpose?
Ford. Neuer
Fal. Of what qualitie was your loue then?
Ford. Like a fair house, built on another mans ground,
so that I haue lost my edifice, by mistaking the place,
where I erected it
Fal. To what purpose haue you vnfolded this to me? For. When I haue told you that, I haue told you all: Some say, that though she appeare honest to mee, yet in other places shee enlargeth her mirth so farre, that there is shrewd construction made of her. Now (Sir Iohn) here is the heart of my purpose: you are a gentleman of excellent breeding, admirable discourse, of great admittance, authenticke in your place and person, generally allow'd for your many war-like, court-like, and learned preparations
Fal. O Sir
Ford. Beleeue it, for you know it: there is money, spend it, spend it, spend more; spend all I haue, onely giue me so much of your time in enchange of it, as to lay an amiable siege to the honesty of this Fords wife: vse your Art of wooing; win her to consent to you: if any man may, you may as soone as any
Fal. Would it apply well to the vehemency of your affection that I should win what you would enioy? Methinkes you prescribe to your selfe very preposterously
Ford. O, vnderstand my drift: she dwells so securely on the excellency of her honor, that the folly of my soule dares not present it selfe: shee is too bright to be look'd against. Now, could I come to her with any detection in my hand; my desires had instance and argument to commend themselues, I could driue her then from the ward of her purity, her reputation, her marriage-vow, and a thousand other her defences, which now are tootoo strongly embattaild against me: what say you too't, Sir Iohn? Fal. Master Broome, I will first make bold with your money: next, giue mee your hand: and last, as I am a gentleman, you shall, if you will, enioy Fords wife
Ford. O good Sir
Fal. I say you shall
Ford. Want no money (Sir Iohn) you shall want none
Fal. Want no Mistresse Ford (Master Broome) you shall want none: I shall be with her (I may tell you) by her owne appointment, euen as you came in to me, her assistant, or goe-betweene, parted from me: I say I shall be with her betweene ten and eleuen: for at that time the iealious-rascally-knaue her husband will be forth: come you to me at night, you shall know how I speed
Ford. I am blest in your acquaintance: do you know Ford Sir? Fal. Hang him (poore Cuckoldly knaue) I know him not: yet I wrong him to call him poore: They say the iealous wittolly-knaue hath masses of money, for the which his wife seemes to me well-fauourd: I will vse her as the key of the Cuckoldly-rogues Coffer, & ther's my haruest-home
Ford. I would you knew Ford, sir, that you might auoid him, if you saw him
Fal. Hang him, mechanicall-salt-butter rogue; I wil stare him out of his wits: I will awe-him with my cudgell: it shall hang like a Meteor ore the Cuckolds horns: Master Broome, thou shalt know, I will predominate ouer the pezant, and thou shalt lye with his wife. Come to me soone at night: Ford's a knaue, and I will aggrauate his stile: thou (Master Broome) shalt know him for knaue, and Cuckold. Come to me soone at night
Ford. What a damn'd Epicurian-Rascall is this? my heart is ready to cracke with impatience: who saies this is improuident iealousie? my wife hath sent to him, the howre is fixt, the match is made: would any man haue thought this? see the hell of hauing a false woman: my bed shall be abus'd, my Coffers ransack'd, my reputation gnawne at, and I shall not onely receiue this villanous wrong, but stand vnder the adoption of abhominable termes, and by him that does mee this wrong: Termes, names: Amaimon sounds well: Lucifer, well: Barbason, well: yet they are Diuels additions, the names of fiends: But Cuckold, Wittoll, Cuckold? the Diuell himselfe hath not such a name. Page is an Asse, a secure Asse; hee will trust his wife, hee will not be iealous: I will rather trust a Fleming with my butter, Parson Hugh the Welshman with my Cheese, an Irish-man with my Aqua-vitae-bottle, or a Theefe to walke my ambling gelding, then my wife with her selfe. Then she plots, then shee ruminates, then shee deuises: and what they thinke in their hearts they may effect; they will breake their hearts but they will effect. Heauen bee prais'd for my iealousie: eleuen o' clocke the howre, I will preuent this, detect my wife, bee reueng'd on Falstaffe, and laugh at Page. I will about it, better three houres too soone, then a mynute too late: fie, fie, fie: Cuckold, Cuckold, Cuckold.
Enter.
Scena Tertia.
Enter Caius, Rugby, Page, Shallow, Slender, Host.
Caius. Iacke Rugby
Rug. Sir
Caius. Vat is the clocke, Iack
Rug. 'Tis past the howre (Sir) that Sir Hugh promis'd to meet
Cai. By gar, he has saue his soule, dat he is no-come: hee has pray his Pible well, dat he is no-come: by gar (Iack Rugby) he is dead already, if he be come
Rug. Hee is wise Sir: hee knew your worship would kill him if he came
Cai. By gar, de herring is no dead, so as I vill kill him: take your Rapier, (Iacke) I vill tell you how I vill kill him
Rug. Alas sir, I cannot fence
Cai. Villaine, take your Rapier
Rug. Forbeare: heer's company
Host. 'Blesse thee, bully-Doctor
Shal. 'Saue you Mr. Doctor Caius
Page. Now good Mr. Doctor
Slen. 'Giue you good-morrow, sir
Caius. Vat be all you one, two, tree, fowre, come for? Host. To see thee fight, to see thee foigne, to see thee trauerse, to see thee heere, to see thee there, to see thee passe thy puncto, thy stock, thy reuerse, thy distance, thy montant: Is he dead, my Ethiopian? Is he dead, my Francisco? ha Bully? what saies my Esculapius? my Galien? my heart of Elder? ha? is he dead bully-Stale? is he dead? Cai. By gar, he is de Coward-Iack-Priest of de vorld: he is not show his face
Host. Thou art a Castalion-king-Vrinall: Hector of
Greece (my Boy)
Cai. I pray you beare witnesse, that me haue stay,
sixe or seuen, two tree howres for him, and hee is nocome
Shal. He is the wiser man (M[aster]. Doctor) he is a curer of soules, and you a curer of bodies: if you should fight, you goe against the haire of your professions: is it not true, Master Page? Page. Master Shallow; you haue your selfe beene a great fighter, though now a man of peace
Shal. Body-kins M[aster]. Page, though I now be old, and of the peace; if I see a sword out, my finger itches to make one: though wee are Iustices, and Doctors, and Church-men (M[aster]. Page) wee haue some salt of our youth in vs, we are the sons of women (M[aster]. Page.) Page. 'Tis true, Mr. Shallow
Shal. It wil be found so, (M[aster]. Page:) M[aster]. Doctor Caius, I am come to fetch you home: I am sworn of the peace: you haue show'd your selfe a wise Physician, and Sir Hugh hath showne himselfe a wise and patient Churchman: you must goe with me, M[aster]. Doctor
Host. Pardon, Guest-Iustice; a Mounseur Mocke-water
Cai. Mock-vater? vat is dat?
Host. Mock-water, in our English tongue, is Valour
(Bully.)
Cai. By gar, then I haue as much Mock-vater as de
Englishman: scuruy-Iack-dog-Priest: by gar, mee vill
cut his eares
Host. He will Clapper-claw thee tightly (Bully.)
Cai. Clapper-de-claw? vat is dat?
Host. That is, he will make thee amends
Cai. By-gar, me doe looke hee shall clapper-de-claw
me, for by-gar, me vill haue it
Host. And I will prouoke him to't, or let him wag
Cai. Me tanck you for dat
Host. And moreouer, (Bully) but first, Mr. Ghuest, and M[aster]. Page, & eeke Caualeiro Slender, goe you through the Towne to Frogmore
Page. Sir Hugh is there, is he?
Host. He is there, see what humor he is in: and I will
bring the Doctor about by the Fields: will it doe well?
Shal. We will doe it
All. Adieu, good M[aster]. Doctor
Cai. By-gar, me vill kill de Priest, for he speake for a
Iack-an-Ape to Anne Page
Host. Let him die: sheath thy impatience: throw cold water on thy Choller: goe about the fields with mee through Frogmore, I will bring thee where Mistris Anne Page is, at a Farm-house a Feasting: and thou shalt wooe her: Cride-game, said I well? Cai. By-gar, mee dancke you vor dat: by gar I loue you: and I shall procure 'a you de good Guest: de Earle, de Knight, de Lords, de Gentlemen, my patients
Host. For the which, I will be thy aduersary toward
Anne Page: said I well?
Cai. By-gar, 'tis good: vell said
Host. Let vs wag then
Cai. Come at my heeles, Iack Rugby.
Exeunt.
Actus Tertius. Scoena Prima.
Enter Euans, Simple, Page, Shallow, Slender, Host, Caius, Rugby.
Euans. I pray you now, good Master Slenders seruingman, and friend Simple by your name; which way haue you look'd for Master Caius, that calls himselfe Doctor of Phisicke
Sim. Marry Sir, the pittie-ward, the Parke-ward: euery way: olde Windsor way, and euery way but the Towne-way
Euan. I most fehemently desire you, you will also looke that way
Sim. I will sir
Euan. 'Plesse my soule: how full of Chollors I am, and trempling of minde: I shall be glad if he haue deceiued me: how melancholies I am? I will knog his Vrinalls about his knaues costard, when I haue good oportunities for the orke: 'Plesse my soule: To shallow Riuers to whose falls: melodious Birds sings Madrigalls: There will we make our Peds of Roses: and a thousand fragrant posies. To shallow: 'Mercie on mee, I haue a great dispositions to cry. Melodious birds sing Madrigalls: - When as I sat in Pabilon: and a thousand vagram Posies. To shallow, &c
Sim. Yonder he is comming, this way, Sir Hugh
Euan. Hee's welcome: To shallow Riuers, to whose fals:
Heauen prosper the right: what weapons is he?
Sim. No weapons, Sir: there comes my Master, Mr.
Shallow, and another Gentleman; from Frogmore, ouer
the stile, this way
Euan. Pray you giue mee my gowne, or else keepe it
in your armes
Shal. How now Master Parson? good morrow good
Sir Hugh: keepe a Gamester from the dice, and a good
Studient from his booke, and it is wonderfull
Slen. Ah sweet Anne Page
Page. 'Saue you, good Sir Hugh
Euan. 'Plesse you from his mercy-sake, all of you
Shal. What? the Sword, and the Word?
Doe you study them both, Mr. Parson?
Page. And youthfull still, in your doublet and hose,
this raw-rumaticke day?
Euan. There is reasons, and causes for it
Page. We are come to you, to doe a good office, Mr.
Parson
Euan. Fery-well: what is it? Page. Yonder is a most reuerend Gentleman; who (be-like) hauing receiued wrong by some person, is at most odds with his owne grauity and patience, that euer you saw
Shal. I haue liued foure-score yeeres, and vpward: I neuer heard a man of his place, grauity, and learning, so wide of his owne respect
Euan. What is he?
Page. I thinke you know him: Mr. Doctor Caius the
renowned French Physician
Euan. Got's-will, and his passion of my heart: I had
as lief you would tell me of a messe of porredge
Page. Why?
Euan. He has no more knowledge in Hibocrates and
Galen , and hee is a knaue besides: a cowardly knaue, as
you would desires to be acquainted withall
Page. I warrant you, hee's the man should fight with
him
Slen. O sweet Anne Page
Shal. It appeares so by his weapons: keepe them asunder: here comes Doctor Caius
Page. Nay good Mr. Parson, keepe in your weapon
Shal. So doe you, good Mr. Doctor
Host. Disarme them, and let them question: let them
keepe their limbs whole, and hack our English
Cai. I pray you let-a-mee speake a word with your
eare; vherefore vill you not meet-a me?
Euan. Pray you vse your patience in good time
Cai. By-gar, you are de Coward: de Iack dog: Iohn
Ape
Euan. Pray you let vs not be laughing-stocks to other mens humors: I desire you in friendship, and I will one way or other make you amends: I will knog your Vrinal about your knaues Cogs-combe
Cai. Diable: Iack Rugby: mine Host de Iarteer: haue I not stay for him, to kill him? haue I not at de place I did appoint? Euan. As I am a Christians-soule, now looke you: this is the place appointed, Ile bee iudgement by mine Host of the Garter
Host. Peace, I say, Gallia and Gaule, French & Welch,
Soule-Curer, and Body-Curer
Cai. I, dat is very good, excellant
Host. Peace, I say: heare mine Host of the Garter, Am I politicke? Am I subtle? Am I a Machiuell? Shall I loose my Doctor? No, hee giues me the Potions and the Motions. Shall I loose my Parson? my Priest? my Sir Hugh? No, he giues me the Prouerbes, and the No-verbes. Giue me thy hand (Celestiall) so: Boyes of Art, I haue deceiu'd you both: I haue directed you to wrong places: your hearts are mighty, your skinnes are whole, and let burn'd Sacke be the issue: Come, lay their swords to pawne: Follow me, Lad of peace, follow, follow, follow
Shal. Trust me, a mad Host: follow Gentlemen, follow
Slen. O sweet Anne Page
Cai. Ha' do I perceiue dat? Haue you make-a-de-sot of vs, ha, ha? Eua. This is well, he has made vs his vlowting-stog: I desire you that we may be friends: and let vs knog our praines together to be reuenge on this same scall scuruy-cogging-companion the Host of the Garter
Cai. By gar, with all my heart: he promise to bring me where is Anne Page: by gar he deceiue me too
Euan. Well, I will smite his noddles: pray you follow.
Scena Secunda.
Mist.Page, Robin, Ford, Page, Shallow, Slender, Host, Euans,
Caius.
Mist.Page. Nay keepe your way (little Gallant) you were wont to be a follower, but now you are a Leader: whether had you rather lead mine eyes, or eye your masters heeles? Rob. I had rather (forsooth) go before you like a man, then follow him like a dwarfe
M.Pa. O you are a flattering boy, now I see you'l be a
(Courtier
Ford. Well met mistris Page, whether go you
M.Pa. Truly Sir, to see your wife, is she at home?
Ford. I, and as idle as she may hang together for want
of company: I thinke if your husbands were dead, you
two would marry
M.Pa. Be sure of that, two other husbands
Ford. Where had you this pretty weather-cocke?
M.Pa. I cannot tell what (the dickens) his name is my
husband had him of, what do you cal your Knights name sirrah?
Rob. Sir Iohn Falstaffe
Ford. Sir Iohn Falstaffe
M.Pa. He, he, I can neuer hit on's name; there is such a
league betweene my goodman, and he: is your Wife at home
indeed?
Ford. Indeed she is
M.Pa. By your leaue sir, I am sicke till I see her
Ford. Has Page any braines? Hath he any eies? Hath he any thinking? Sure they sleepe, he hath no vse of them: why this boy will carrie a letter twentie mile as easie, as a Canon will shoot point-blanke twelue score: hee peeces out his wiues inclination: he giues her folly motion and aduantage: and now she's going to my wife, & Falstaffes boy with her: A man may heare this showre sing in the winde; and Falstaffes boy with her: good plots, they are laide, and our reuolted wiues share damnation together. Well, I will take him, then torture my wife, plucke the borrowed vaile of modestie from the so-seeming Mist[ris]. Page, divulge Page himselfe for a secure and wilfull Acteon, and to these violent proceedings all my neighbors shall cry aime. The clocke giues me my Qu, and my assurance bids me search, there I shall finde Falstaffe: I shall be rather praisd for this, then mock'd, for it is as possitiue, as the earth is firme, that Falstaffe is there: I will go
Shal. Page, &c. Well met Mr Ford
Ford. Trust me, a good knotte; I haue good cheere at home, and I pray you all go with me
Shal. I must excuse my selfe Mr Ford
Slen. And so must I Sir,
We haue appointed to dine with Mistris Anne,
And I would not breake with her for more mony
Then Ile speake of
Shal. We haue linger'd about a match betweene An Page, and my cozen Slender, and this day wee shall haue our answer
Slen. I hope I haue your good will Father Page
Pag. You haue Mr Slender, I stand wholly for you,
But my wife (Mr Doctor) is for you altogether
Cai. I be-gar, and de Maid is loue-a-me: my nursh-a-Quickly
tell me so mush
Host. What say you to yong Mr Fenton? He capers, he dances, he has eies of youth: he writes verses, hee speakes holliday, he smels April and May, he wil carry't, he will carry't, 'tis in his buttons, he will carry't
Page. Not by my consent I promise you. The Gentleman is of no hauing, hee kept companie with the wilde Prince, and Pointz: he is of too high a Region, he knows too much: no, hee shall not knit a knot in his fortunes, with the finger of my substance: if he take her, let him take her simply: the wealth I haue waits on my consent, and my consent goes not that way
Ford. I beseech you heartily, some of you goe home with me to dinner: besides your cheere you shall haue sport, I will shew you a monster: Mr Doctor, you shal go, so shall you Mr Page, and you Sir Hugh
Shal. Well, fare you well:
We shall haue the freer woing at Mr Pages
Cai. Go home Iohn Rugby, I come anon
Host. Farewell my hearts, I will to my honest Knight
Falstaffe, and drinke Canarie with him
Ford. I thinke I shall drinke in Pipe-wine first with
him, Ile make him dance. Will you go Gentles?
All. Haue with you, to see this Monster.
Scena Tertia.
Enter M.Ford, M.Page, Seruants, Robin, Falstaffe, Ford, Page,
Caius,
Euans.
Mist.Ford. What Iohn, what Robert
M.Page. Quickly, quickly: Is the Buck-basket -
Mis.Ford. I warrant. What Robin I say
Mis.Page. Come, come, come
Mist.Ford. Heere, set it downe
M.Pag. Giue your men the charge, we must be briefe
M.Ford. Marrie, as I told you before (Iohn & Robert) be ready here hard-by in the Brew-house, & when I sodainly call you, come forth, and (without any pause, or staggering) take this basket on your shoulders: y done, trudge with it in all hast, and carry it among the Whitsters in Dotchet Mead, and there empty it in the muddie ditch, close by the Thames side
M.Page. You will do it?
M.Ford. I ha told them ouer and ouer, they lacke no direction.
Be gone, and come when you are call'd
M.Page. Here comes little Robin
Mist.Ford. How now my Eyas-Musket, what newes with you?
Rob. My M[aster]. Sir Iohn is come in at your backe doore
(Mist[ris]. Ford, and requests your company
M.Page. You litle Iack-a-lent, haue you bin true to vs Rob. I, Ile be sworne: my Master knowes not of your being heere: and hath threatned to put me into euerlasting liberty, if I tell you of it: for he sweares he'll turne me away
Mist.Pag. Thou'rt a good boy: this secrecy of thine shall be a Tailor to thee, and shal make thee a new doublet and hose. Ile go hide me
Mi.Ford. Do so: go tell thy Master, I am alone: Mistris
Page, remember you your Qu
Mist.Pag. I warrant thee, if I do not act it, hisse me
Mist.Ford. Go-too then: we'l vse this vnwholsome humidity, this grosse-watry Pumpion; we'll teach him to know Turtles from Iayes
Fal. Haue I caught thee, my heauenly Iewell? Why now let me die, for I haue liu'd long enough: This is the period of my ambition: O this blessed houre
Mist.Ford. O sweet Sir Iohn
Fal. Mistris Ford, I cannot cog, I cannot prate (Mist[ris]. Ford) now shall I sin in my wish; I would thy Husband were dead, Ile speake it before the best Lord, I would make thee my Lady
Mist.Ford. I your Lady Sir Iohn? Alas, I should bee a pittifull Lady
Fal. Let the Court of France shew me such another: I see how thine eye would emulate the Diamond: Thou hast the right arched-beauty of the brow, that becomes the Ship-tyre, the Tyre-valiant, or any Tire of Venetian admittance
Mist.Ford. A plaine Kerchiefe, Sir Iohn:
My browes become nothing else, nor that well neither
Fal. Thou art a tyrant to say so: thou wouldst make an absolute Courtier, and the firme fixture of thy foote, would giue an excellent motion to thy gate, in a semicircled Farthingale. I see what thou wert if Fortune thy foe, were not Nature thy friend: Come, thou canst not hide it
Mist.Ford. Beleeue me, ther's no such thing in me
Fal. What made me loue thee? Let that perswade thee. Ther's something extraordinary in thee: Come, I cannot cog, and say thou art this and that, like a-manie of these lisping-hauthorne buds, that come like women in mens apparrell, and smell like Bucklers-berry in simple time: I cannot, but I loue thee, none but thee; and thou deseru'st it
M.Ford. Do not betray me sir, I fear you loue M[istris]. Page
Fal. Thou mightst as well say, I loue to walke by the Counter-gate, which is as hatefull to me, as the reeke of a Lime-kill
Mis.Ford. Well, heauen knowes how I loue you,
And you shall one day finde it
Fal. Keepe in that minde, Ile deserue it
Mist.Ford. Nay, I must tell you, so you doe;
Or else I could not be in that minde
Rob. Mistris Ford, Mistris Ford: heere's Mistris Page at the doore, sweating, and blowing, and looking wildely, and would needs speake with you presently
Fal. She shall not see me, I will ensconce mee behinde
the Arras
M.Ford. Pray you do so, she's a very tatling woman.
Whats the matter? How now?
Mist.Page. O mistris Ford what haue you done?
You'r sham'd, y'are ouerthrowne, y'are vndone for euer
M.Ford. What's the matter, good mistris Page?
M.Page. O weladay, mist[ris]. Ford, hauing an honest man
to your husband, to giue him such cause of suspition
M.Ford. What cause of suspition? M.Page. What cause of suspition? Out vpon you: How am I mistooke in you? M.Ford. Why (alas) what's the matter? M.Page. Your husband's comming hether (Woman) with all the Officers in Windsor, to search for a Gentleman, that he sayes is heere now in the house; by your consent to take an ill aduantage of his absence: you are vndone
M.Ford. 'Tis not so, I hope
M.Page. Pray heauen it be not so, that you haue such a man heere: but 'tis most certaine your husband's comming, with halfe Windsor at his heeles, to serch for such a one, I come before to tell you: If you know your selfe cleere, why I am glad of it: but if you haue a friend here, conuey, conuey him out. Be not amaz'd, call all your senses to you, defend your reputation, or bid farwell to your good life for euer
M.Ford. What shall I do? There is a Gentleman my deere friend: and I feare not mine owne shame so much, as his perill. I had rather then a thousand pound he were out of the house
M.Page. For shame, neuer stand (you had rather, and you had rather:) your husband's heere at hand, bethinke you of some conueyance: in the house you cannot hide him. Oh, how haue you deceiu'd me? Looke, heere is a basket, if he be of any reasonable stature, he may creepe in heere, and throw fowle linnen vpon him, as if it were going to bucking: Or it is whiting time, send him by your two men to Datchet-Meade
M.Ford. He's too big to go in there: what shall I do?
Fal. Let me see't, let me see't, O let me see't:
Ile in, Ile in: Follow your friends counsell, Ile in
M.Page. What Sir Iohn Falstaffe? Are these your Letters,
Knight?
Fal. I loue thee, helpe mee away: let me creepe in
heere: ile neuer -
M.Page. Helpe to couer your master (Boy:) Call
your men (Mist[ris]. Ford.) You dissembling Knight
M.Ford. What Iohn, Robert, Iohn; Go, take vp these cloathes heere, quickly: Wher's the Cowle-staffe? Look how you drumble? Carry them to the Landresse in Datchet mead: quickly, come
Ford. 'Pray you come nere: if I suspect without cause,
Why then make sport at me, then let me be your iest,
I deserue it: How now? Whether beare you this?
Ser. To the Landresse forsooth?
M.Ford. Why, what haue you to doe whether they
beare it? You were best meddle with buck-washing
Ford. Buck? I would I could wash my selfe of y Buck: Bucke, bucke, bucke, I bucke: I warrant you Bucke, And of the season too; it shall appeare. Gentlemen, I haue dream'd to night, Ile tell you my dreame: heere, heere, heere bee my keyes, ascend my Chambers, search, seeke, finde out: Ile warrant wee'le vnkennell the Fox. Let me stop this way first: so, now vncape
Page. Good master Ford, be contented:
You wrong your selfe too much
Ford. True (master Page) vp Gentlemen,
You shall see sport anon:
Follow me Gentlemen
Euans. This is fery fantasticall humors and iealousies
Caius. By gar, 'tis no-the fashion of France:
It is not iealous in France
Page. Nay follow him (Gentlemen) see the yssue of
his search
Mist.Page. Is there not a double excellency in this?
Mist.Ford. I know not which pleases me better,
That my husband is deceiued, or Sir Iohn
Mist.Page. What a taking was hee in, when your husband askt who was in the basket? Mist.Ford. I am halfe affraid he will haue neede of washing: so throwing him into the water, will doe him a benefit
Mist.Page. Hang him dishonest rascall: I would all of the same straine, were in the same distresse
Mist.Ford. I thinke my husband hath some speciall suspition of Falstaffs being heere: for I neuer saw him so grosse in his iealousie till now
Mist.Page. I will lay a plot to try that, and wee will yet haue more trickes with Falstaffe: his dissolute disease will scarse obey this medicine
Mis.Ford. Shall we send that foolishion Carion, Mist[ris]. Quickly to him, and excuse his throwing into the water, and giue him another hope, to betray him to another punishment? Mist.Page. We will do it: let him be sent for to morrow eight a clocke to haue amends
Ford. I cannot finde him: may be the knaue bragg'd
of that he could not compasse
Mis.Page. Heard you that?
Mis.Ford. You vse me well, M[aster]. Ford? Do you?
Ford. I, I do so
M.Ford. Heauen make you better then your thoghts
Ford. Amen
Mi.Page. You do your selfe mighty wrong (M[aster]. Ford)
Ford. I, I: I must beare it
Eu. If there be any pody in the house, & in the chambers, and in the coffers, and in the presses: heauen forgiue my sins at the day of iudgement
Caius. Be gar, nor I too: there is no-bodies
Page. Fy, fy, M[aster]. Ford, are you not asham'd? What spirit, what diuell suggests this imagination? I wold not ha your distemper in this kind, for y welth of Windsor castle
Ford. 'Tis my fault (M[aster]. Page) I suffer for it
Euans. You suffer for a pad conscience: your wife is as honest a o'mans, as I will desires among fiue thousand, and fiue hundred too
Cai. By gar, I see 'tis an honest woman
Ford. Well, I promisd you a dinner: come, come, walk in the Parke, I pray you pardon me: I wil hereafter make knowne to you why I haue done this. Come wife, come Mi[stris]. Page, I pray you pardon me. Pray hartly pardon me
Page. Let's go in Gentlemen, but (trust me) we'l mock him: I doe inuite you to morrow morning to my house to breakfast: after we'll a Birding together, I haue a fine Hawke for the bush. Shall it be so: Ford. Any thing
Eu. If there is one, I shall make two in the Companie
Ca. If there be one, or two, I shall make-a-theturd
Ford. Pray you go, M[aster]. Page
Eua. I pray you now remembrance to morrow on the lowsie knaue, mine Host
Cai. Dat is good by gar, withall my heart
Eua. A lowsie knaue, to haue his gibes, and his mockeries.
Exeunt.
Scoena Quarta.
Enter Fenton, Anne, Page, Shallow, Slender, Quickly, Page,
Mist.Page.
Fen. I see I cannot get thy Fathers loue,
Therefore no more turne me to him (sweet Nan.)
Anne. Alas, how then?
Fen. Why thou must be thy selfe.
He doth obiect, I am too great of birth,
And that my state being gall'd with my expence,
I seeke to heale it onely by his wealth.
Besides these, other barres he layes before me,
My Riots past, my wilde Societies,
And tels me 'tis a thing impossible
I should loue thee, but as a property
An. May be he tels you true.
No, heauen so speed me in my time to come,
Albeit I will confesse, thy Fathers wealth
Was the first motiue that I woo'd thee (Anne:)
Yet wooing thee, I found thee of more valew
Then stampes in Gold, or summes in sealed bagges:
And 'tis the very riches of thy selfe,
That now I ayme at
An. Gentle M[aster]. Fenton,
Yet seeke my Fathers loue, still seeke it sir,
If opportunity and humblest suite
Cannot attaine it, why then harke you hither
Shal. Breake their talke Mistris Quickly.
My Kinsman shall speake for himselfe
Slen. Ile make a shaft or a bolt on't, slid, tis but venturing
Shal. Be not dismaid
Slen. No, she shall not dismay me:
I care not for that, but that I am affeard
Qui. Hark ye, M[aster]. Slender would speak a word with you
An. I come to him. This is my Fathers choice:
O what a world of vilde ill-fauour'd faults
Lookes handsome in three hundred pounds a yeere?
Qui. And how do's good Master Fenton?
Pray you a word with you
Shal. Shee's comming; to her Coz:
O boy, thou hadst a father
Slen. I had a father (M[istris]. An) my vncle can tel you good iests of him: pray you Vncle, tel Mist[ris]. Anne the iest how my Father stole two Geese out of a Pen, good Vnckle
Shal. Mistris Anne, my Cozen loues you
Slen. I that I do, as well as I loue any woman in Glocestershire
Shal. He will maintaine you like a Gentlewoman
Slen. I that I will, come cut and long-taile, vnder the
degree of a Squire
Shal. He will make you a hundred and fiftie pounds
ioynture
Anne. Good Maister Shallow let him woo for himselfe
Shal. Marrie I thanke you for it: I thanke you for that good comfort: she cals you (Coz) Ile leaue you
Anne. Now Master Slender
Slen. Now good Mistris Anne
Anne. What is your will? Slen. My will? Odd's-hartlings, that's a prettie iest indeede: I ne're made my Will yet (I thanke Heauen:) I am not such a sickely creature, I giue Heauen praise
Anne. I meane (M[aster]. Slender) what wold you with me? Slen. Truely, for mine owne part, I would little or nothing with you: your father and my vncle hath made motions: if it be my lucke, so; if not, happy man bee his dole, they can tell you how things go, better then I can: you may aske your father, heere he comes
Page. Now Mr Slender; Loue him daughter Anne.
Why how now? What does Mr Fenten here?
You wrong me Sir, thus still to haunt my house.
I told you Sir, my daughter is disposd of
Fen. Nay Mr Page, be not impatient
Mist.Page. Good M[aster]. Fenton, come not to my child
Page. She is no match for you
Fen. Sir, will you heare me?
Page. No, good M[aster]. Fenton.
Come M[aster]. Shallow: Come sonne Slender, in;
Knowing my minde, you wrong me (M[aster]. Fenton.)
Qui. Speake to Mistris Page
Fen. Good Mist[ris]. Page, for that I loue your daughter
In such a righteous fashion as I do,
Perforce, against all checkes, rebukes, and manners,
I must aduance the colours of my loue,
And not retire. Let me haue your good will
An. Good mother, do not marry me to yond foole
Mist.Page. I meane it not, I seeke you a better husband
Qui. That's my master, M[aster]. Doctor
An. Alas I had rather be set quick i'th earth,
And bowl'd to death with Turnips
Mist.Page. Come, trouble not your selfe good M[aster].
Fenton, I will not be your friend, nor enemy:
My daughter will I question how she loues you,
And as I finde her, so am I affected:
Till then, farewell Sir, she must needs go in,
Her father will be angry
Fen. Farewell gentle Mistris: farewell Nan
Qui. This is my doing now: Nay, saide I, will you cast away your childe on a Foole, and a Physitian: Looke on M[aster]. Fenton, this is my doing
Fen. I thanke thee: and I pray thee once to night,
Giue my sweet Nan this Ring: there's for thy paines
Qui. Now heauen send thee good fortune, a kinde heart he hath: a woman would run through fire & water for such a kinde heart. But yet, I would my Maister had Mistris Anne, or I would M[aster]. Slender had her: or (in sooth) I would M[aster]. Fenton had her; I will do what I can for them all three, for so I haue promisd, and Ile bee as good as my word, but speciously for M[aster]. Fenton. Well, I must of another errand to Sir Iohn Falstaffe from my two Mistresses: what a beast am I to slacke it.
Exeunt.
Scena Quinta.
Enter Falstaffe, Bardolfe, Quickly, Ford.
Fal. Bardolfe I say
Bar. Heere Sir
Fal. Go, fetch me a quart of Sacke, put a tost in't. Haue I liu'd to be carried in a Basket like a barrow of butchers Offall? and to be throwne in the Thames? Wel, if I be seru'd such another tricke, Ile haue my braines 'tane out and butter'd, and giue them to a dogge for a New-yeares gift. The rogues slighted me into the riuer with as little remorse, as they would haue drown'de a blinde bitches Puppies, fifteene i'th litter: and you may know by my size, that I haue a kinde of alacrity in sinking: if the bottome were as deepe as hell, I shold down. I had beene drown'd, but that the shore was sheluy and shallow: a death that I abhorre: for the water swelles a man; and what a thing should I haue beene, when I had beene swel'd? I should haue beene a Mountaine of Mummie
Bar. Here's M[istris]. Quickly Sir to speake with you
Fal. Come, let me poure in some Sack to the Thames water: for my bellies as cold as if I had swallow'd snowbals, for pilles to coole the reines. Call her in
Bar. Come in woman
Qui. By your leaue: I cry you mercy?
Giue your worship good morrow
Fal. Take away these Challices:
Go, brew me a pottle of Sacke finely
Bard. With Egges, Sir?
Fal. Simple of it selfe: Ile no Pullet-Spersme in my
brewage. How now?
Qui. Marry Sir, I come to your worship from M[istris]. Ford
Fal. Mist[ris]. Ford? I haue had Ford enough: I was thrown
into the Ford; I haue my belly full of Ford
Qui. Alas the day, (good-heart) that was not her fault: she do's so take on with her men; they mistooke their erection
Fal. So did I mine, to build vpon a foolish Womans promise
Qui. Well, she laments Sir for it, that it would yern your heart to see it: her husband goes this morning a birding; she desires you once more to come to her, betweene eight and nine: I must carry her word quickely, she'll make you amends I warrant you
Fal. Well, I will visit her, tell her so: and bidde her thinke what a man is: Let her consider his frailety, and then iudge of my merit
Qui. I will tell her
Fal. Do so. Betweene nine and ten saist thou?
Qui. Eight and nine Sir
Fal. Well, be gone: I will not misse her
Qui. Peace be with you Sir
Fal. I meruaile I heare not of Mr Broome: he sent me word to stay within: I like his money well. Oh, heere he comes
Ford. Blesse you Sir
Fal. Now M[aster]. Broome, you come to know
What hath past betweene me, and Fords wife
Ford. That indeed (Sir Iohn) is my businesse
Fal. M[aster]. Broome I will not lye to you,
I was at her house the houre she appointed me
Ford. And sped you Sir?
Fal. Very ill-fauouredly M[aster]. Broome
Ford. How so sir, did she change her determination? Fal. No (M[aster]. Broome) but the peaking Curnuto her husband (M[aster]. Broome) dwelling in a continual larum of ielousie, coms me in the instant of our encounter, after we had embrast, kist, protested, & (as it were) spoke the prologue of our Comedy: and at his heeles, a rabble of his companions, thither prouoked and instigated by his distemper, and (forsooth) to serch his house for his wiues Loue
Ford. What? While you were there?
Fal. While I was there
For. And did he search for you, & could not find you? Fal. You shall heare. As good lucke would haue it, comes in one Mist[ris]. Page, giues intelligence of Fords approch: and in her inuention, and Fords wiues distraction, they conuey'd me into a bucke-basket
Ford. A Buck-basket?
Fal. Yes: a Buck-basket: ram'd mee in with foule
Shirts and Smockes, Socks, foule Stockings, greasie
Napkins, that (Master Broome) there was the rankest
compound of villanous smell, that euer offended nostrill
Ford. And how long lay you there? Fal. Nay, you shall heare (Master Broome) what I haue sufferd, to bring this woman to euill, for your good: Being thus cram'd in the Basket, a couple of Fords knaues, his Hindes, were cald forth by their Mistris, to carry mee in the name of foule Cloathes to Datchet-lane: they tooke me on their shoulders: met the iealous knaue their Master in the doore; who ask'd them once or twice what they had in their Basket? I quak'd for feare least the Lunatique Knaue would haue search'd it: but Fate (ordaining he should be a Cuckold) held his hand: well, on went hee, for a search, and away went I for foule Cloathes: But marke the sequell (Master Broome) I suffered the pangs of three seuerall deaths: First, an intollerable fright, to be detected with a iealious rotten Bell-weather: Next to be compass'd like a good Bilbo in the circumference of a Pecke, hilt to point, heele to head. And then to be stopt in like a strong distillation with stinking Cloathes, that fretted in their owne grease: thinke of that, a man of my Kidney; thinke of that, that am as subiect to heate as butter; a man of continuall dissolution, and thaw: it was a miracle to scape suffocation. And in the height of this Bath (when I was more then halfe stew'd in grease (like a Dutch-dish) to be throwne into the Thames, and coold, glowing-hot, in that serge like a Horse-shoo; thinke of that; hissing hot: thinke of that (Master Broome.) Ford. In good sadnesse Sir, I am sorry, that for my sake you haue sufferd all this. My suite then is desperate: You'll vndertake her no more? Fal. Master Broome: I will be throwne into Etna, as I haue beene into Thames, ere I will leaue her thus; her Husband is this morning gone a Birding: I haue receiued from her another ambassie of meeting: 'twixt eight and nine is the houre (Master Broome.) Ford. 'Tis past eight already Sir
Fal. Is it? I will then addresse mee to my appointment: Come to mee at your conuenient leisure, and you shall know how I speede: and the conclusion shall be crowned with your enioying her: adiew: you shall haue her (Master Broome) Master Broome, you shall cuckold Ford
Ford. Hum: ha? Is this a vision? Is this a dreame? doe I sleepe? Master Ford awake, awake Master Ford: ther's a hole made in your best coate (Master Ford:) this 'tis to be married; this 'tis to haue Lynnen, and Buckbaskets: Well, I will proclaime my selfe what I am: I will now take the Leacher: hee is at my house: hee cannot scape me: 'tis impossible hee should: hee cannot creepe into a halfe-penny purse, nor into a PepperBoxe: But least the Diuell that guides him, should aide him, I will search impossible places: though what I am, I cannot auoide; yet to be what I would not, shall not make me tame: If I haue hornes, to make one mad, let the prouerbe goe with me, Ile be hornemad.
Exeunt.
Actus Quartus. Scoena Prima.
Enter Mistris Page, Quickly, William, Euans.
Mist.Pag. Is he at M[aster]. Fords already think'st thou?
Qui. Sure he is by this; or will be presently; but
truely he is very couragious mad, about his throwing
into the water. Mistris Ford desires you to come sodainely
Mist.Pag. Ile be with her by and by: Ile but bring my yong-man here to Schoole: looke where his Master comes; 'tis a playing day I see: how now Sir Hugh, no Schoole to day? Eua. No: Master Slender is let the Boyes leaue to play
Qui 'Blessing of his heart
Mist.Pag. Sir Hugh, my husband saies my sonne profits nothing in the world at his Booke: I pray you aske him some questions in his Accidence
Eu. Come hither William; hold vp your head; come
Mist.Pag. Come-on Sirha; hold vp your head; answere
your Master, be not afraid
Eua. William, how many Numbers is in Nownes?
Will. Two
Qui. Truely, I thought there had bin one Number
more, because they say od's-Nownes
Eua. Peace, your tatlings. What is (Faire) William?
Will. Pulcher
Qu. Powlcats? there are fairer things then Powlcats,
sure
Eua. You are a very simplicity o'man: I pray you
peace. What is (Lapis) William?
Will. A Stone
Eua. And what is a Stone (William?)
Will. A Peeble
Eua. No; it is Lapis: I pray you remember in your
praine
Will. Lapis
Eua. That is a good William: what is he (William) that
do's lend Articles
Will. Articles are borrowed of the Pronoune; and be
thus declined. Singulariter nominatiuo hic, haec, hoc
Eua. Nominatiuo hig, hag, hog: pray you marke: genitiuo
huius: Well: what is your Accusatiue-case?
Will. Accusatiuo hinc
Eua. I pray you haue your remembrance (childe) Accusatiuo
hing, hang, hog
Qu. Hang-hog, is latten for Bacon, I warrant you
Eua. Leaue your prables (o'man) What is the Focatiue
case (William?)
Will. O, Vocatiuo, O
Eua. Remember William, Focatiue, is caret
Qu. And that's a good roote
Eua. O'man, forbeare
Mist.Pag. Peace
Eua. What is your Genitiue case plurall (William?)
Will. Genitiue case?
Eua. I
Will. Genitiue horum, harum, horum
Qu. 'Vengeance of Ginyes case; fie on her; neuer name her (childe) if she be a whore
Eua. For shame o'man
Qu. You doe ill to teach the childe such words: hee teaches him to hic, and to hac; which they'll doe fast enough of themselues, and to call horum; fie vpon you
Euans. O'man, art thou Lunatics? Hast thou no vnderstandings for thy Cases, & the numbers of the Genders? Thou art as foolish Christian creatures, as I would desires
Mi.Page. Pre'thee hold thy peace
Eu. Shew me now (William) some declensions of your
Pronounes
Will. Forsooth, I haue forgot
Eu. It is Qui, que, quod; if you forget your Quies, your Ques, and your Quods, you must be preeches: Goe your waies and play, go
M.Pag. He is a better scholler then I thought he was
Eu. He is a good sprag-memory: Farewel Mis[tris]. Page
Mis.Page. Adieu good Sir Hugh:
Get you home boy, Come we stay too long.
Exeunt.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Falstoffe, Mist.Ford, Mist.Page, Seruants, Ford, Page, Caius,
Euans,
Shallow.
Fal. Mi[stris]. Ford, Your sorrow hath eaten vp my sufferance; I see you are obsequious in your loue, and I professe requitall to a haires bredth, not onely Mist[ris]. Ford, in the simple office of loue, but in all the accustrement, complement, and ceremony of it: But are you sure of your husband now? Mis.Ford. Hee's a birding (sweet Sir Iohn.) Mis.Page. What hoa, gossip Ford: what hoa
Mis.Ford. Step into th' chamber, Sir Iohn
Mis.Page. How now (sweete heart) whose at home
besides your selfe?
Mis.Ford. Why none but mine owne people
Mis.Page. Indeed?
Mis.Ford. No certainly: Speake louder
Mist.Pag. Truly, I am so glad you haue no body here
Mist.Ford. Why? Mis.Page. Why woman, your husband is in his olde lines againe: he so takes on yonder with my husband, so railes against all married mankinde; so curses all Eues daughters, of what complexion soeuer; and so buffettes himselfe on the for-head: crying peere-out, peere-out, that any madnesse I euer yet beheld, seem'd but tamenesse, ciuility, and patience to this his distemper he is in now: I am glad the fat Knight is not heere
Mist.Ford. Why, do's he talke of him? Mist.Page. Of none but him, and sweares he was caried out the last time hee search'd for him, in a Basket: Protests to my husband he is now heere, & hath drawne him and the rest of their company from their sport, to make another experiment of his suspition: But I am glad the Knight is not heere; now he shall see his owne foolerie
Mist.Ford. How neere is he Mistris Page?
Mist.Pag. Hard by, at street end; he wil be here anon
Mist.Ford. I am vndone, the Knight is heere
Mist.Page. Why then you are vtterly sham'd, & hee's but a dead man. What a woman are you? Away with him, away with him: Better shame, then murther
Mist.Ford. Which way should he go? How should I bestow him? Shall I put him into the basket againe? Fal. No, Ile come no more i'th Basket: May I not go out ere he come? Mist.Page. Alas: three of Mr. Fords brothers watch the doore with Pistols, that none shall issue out: otherwise you might slip away ere hee came: But what make you heere? Fal. What shall I do? Ile creepe vp into the chimney
Mist.Ford. There they alwaies vse to discharge their
Birding-peeces: creepe into the Kill-hole
Fal. Where is it? Mist.Ford. He will seeke there on my word: Neyther Presse, Coffer, Chest, Trunke, Well, Vault, but he hath an abstract for the remembrance of such places, and goes to them by his Note: There is no hiding you in the house
Fal. Ile go out then
Mist.Ford. If you goe out in your owne semblance,
you die Sir Iohn, vnlesse you go out disguis'd
Mist.Ford. How might we disguise him?
Mist.Page. Alas the day I know not, there is no womans
gowne bigge enough for him: otherwise he might
put on a hat, a muffler, and a kerchiefe, and so escape
Fal. Good hearts, deuise something: any extremitie,
rather then a mischiefe
Mist.Ford. My Maids Aunt the fat woman of Brainford,
has a gowne aboue
Mist.Page. On my word it will serue him: shee's as big as he is: and there's her thrum'd hat, and her muffler too: run vp Sir Iohn
Mist.Ford. Go, go, sweet Sir Iohn: Mistris Page and
I will looke some linnen for your head
Mist.Page. Quicke, quicke, wee'le come dresse you
straight: put on the gowne the while
Mist.Ford. I would my husband would meete him in this shape: he cannot abide the old woman of Brainford; he sweares she's a witch, forbad her my house, and hath threatned to beate her
Mist.Page. Heauen guide him to thy husbands cudgell:
and the diuell guide his cudgell afterwards
Mist.Ford. But is my husband comming?
Mist.Page. I in good sadnesse is he, and talkes of the
basket too, howsoeuer he hath had intelligence
Mist.Ford. Wee'l try that: for Ile appoint my men to carry the basket againe, to meete him at the doore with it, as they did last time
Mist.Page. Nay, but hee'l be heere presently: let's go dresse him like the witch of Brainford
Mist.Ford. Ile first direct my men, what they shall doe with the basket: Goe vp, Ile bring linnen for him straight
Mist.Page. Hang him dishonest Varlet,
We cannot misuse enough:
We'll leaue a proofe by that which we will doo,
Wiues may be merry, and yet honest too:
We do not acte that often, iest, and laugh,
'Tis old, but true, Still Swine eats all the draugh
Mist.Ford. Go Sirs, take the basket againe on your shoulders: your Master is hard at doore: if hee bid you set it downe, obey him: quickly, dispatch
1 Ser. Come, come, take it vp
2 Ser. Pray heauen it be not full of Knight againe
1 Ser. I hope not, I had liefe as beare so much lead
Ford. I, but if it proue true (Mr. Page) haue you any way then to vnfoole me againe. Set downe the basket villaine: some body call my wife: Youth in a basket: Oh you Panderly Rascals, there's a knot: a gin, a packe, a conspiracie against me: Now shall the diuel be sham'd. What wife I say: Come, come forth: behold what honest cloathes you send forth to bleaching
Page. Why, this passes M[aster]. Ford: you are not to goe
loose any longer, you must be pinnion'd
Euans. Why, this is Lunaticks: this is madde, as a
mad dogge
Shall. Indeed M[aster]. Ford, this is not well indeed
Ford. So say I too Sir, come hither Mistris Ford, Mistris Ford, the honest woman, the modest wife, the vertuous creature, that hath the iealious foole to her husband: I suspect without cause (Mistris) do I? Mist.Ford. Heauen be my witnesse you doe, if you suspect me in any dishonesty
Ford. Well said Brazon-face, hold it out: Come forth sirrah
Page. This passes
Mist.Ford. Are you not asham'd, let the cloths alone
Ford. I shall finde you anon
Eua. 'Tis vnreasonable; will you take vp your wiues cloathes? Come, away
Ford. Empty the basket I say
M.Ford. Why man, why? Ford. Master Page, as I am a man, there was one conuay'd out of my house yesterday in this basket: why may not he be there againe, in my house I am sure he is: my Intelligence is true, my iealousie is reasonable, pluck me out all the linnen
Mist.Ford. If you find a man there, he shall dye a Fleas death
Page. Heer's no man
Shal. By my fidelity this is not well Mr. Ford: This
wrongs you
Euans. Mr Ford, you must pray, and not follow the
imaginations of your owne heart: this is iealousies
Ford. Well, hee's not heere I seeke for
Page. No, nor no where else but in your braine
Ford. Helpe to search my house this one time: if I find not what I seeke, shew no colour for my extremity: Let me for euer be your Table-sport: Let them say of me, as iealous as Ford, that search'd a hollow Wall-nut for his wiues Lemman. Satisfie me once more, once more serch with me
M.Ford. What hoa (Mistris Page,) come you and the old woman downe: my husband will come into the Chamber
Ford. Old woman? what old womans that?
M.Ford. Why it is my maids Aunt of Brainford
Ford. A witch, a Queane, an olde couzening queane: Haue I not forbid her my house. She comes of errands do's she? We are simple men, wee doe not know what's brought to passe vnder the profession of Fortune-telling. She workes by Charmes, by Spels, by th' Figure, & such dawbry as this is, beyond our Element: wee know nothing. Come downe you Witch, you Hagge you, come downe I say
Mist.Ford. Nay, good sweet husband, good Gentlemen,
let him strike the old woman
Mist.Page. Come mother Prat, Come giue me your
hand
Ford. Ile Prat-her: Out of my doore, you Witch, you Ragge, you Baggage, you Poulcat, you Runnion, out, out: Ile coniure you, Ile fortune-tell you
Mist.Page. Are you not asham'd?
I thinke you haue kill'd the poore woman
Mist.Ford. Nay he will do it, 'tis a goodly credite
for you
Ford. Hang her witch
Eua. By yea, and no, I thinke the o'man is a witch indeede: I like not when a o'man has a great peard; I spie a great peard vnder his muffler
Ford. Will you follow Gentlemen, I beseech you follow: see but the issue of my iealousie: If I cry out thus vpon no traile, neuer trust me when I open againe
Page. Let's obey his humour a little further:
Come Gentlemen
Mist.Page. Trust me he beate him most pittifully
Mist.Ford. Nay by th' Masse that he did not: he beate
him most vnpittifully, me thought
Mist.Page. Ile haue the cudgell hallow'd, and hung
ore the Altar, it hath done meritorious seruice
Mist.Ford. What thinke you? May we with the warrant of woman-hood, and the witnesse of a good conscience, pursue him with any further reuenge? M.Page. The spirit of wantonnesse is sure scar'd out of him, if the diuell haue him not in fee-simple, with fine and recouery, he will neuer (I thinke) in the way of waste, attempt vs againe
Mist.Ford. Shall we tell our husbands how wee haue seru'd him? Mist.Page. Yes, by all meanes: if it be but to scrape the figures out of your husbands braines: if they can find in their hearts, the poore vnuertuous fat Knight shall be any further afflicted, wee two will still bee the ministers
Mist.Ford. Ile warrant, they'l haue him publiquely sham'd, and me thinkes there would be no period to the iest, should he not be publikely sham'd
Mist.Page. Come, to the Forge with it, then shape it:
I would not haue things coole.
Exeunt.
Scena Tertia.
Enter Host and Bardolfe.
Bar. Sir, the Germane desires to haue three of your horses: the Duke himselfe will be to morrow at Court, and they are going to meet him
Host. What Duke should that be comes so secretly?
I heare not of him in the Court: let mee speake with the
Gentlemen, they speake English?
Bar. I Sir? Ile call him to you
Host. They shall haue my horses, but Ile make them pay: Ile sauce them, they haue had my houses a week at commaund: I haue turn'd away my other guests, they must come off, Ile sawce them, come.
Exeunt.
Scena Quarta.
Enter Page, Ford, Mistris Page, Mistris Ford, and Euans.
Eua. 'Tis one of the best discretions of a o'man as euer
I did looke vpon
Page. And did he send you both these Letters at an
instant?
Mist.Page. Within a quarter of an houre
Ford. Pardon me (wife) henceforth do what y wilt:
I rather will suspect the Sunne with gold,
Then thee with wantonnes: Now doth thy honor stand
(In him that was of late an Heretike)
As firme as faith
Page. 'Tis well, 'tis well, no more:
Be not as extreme in submission, as in offence,
But let our plot go forward: Let our wiues
Yet once againe (to make vs publike sport)
Appoint a meeting with this old fat-fellow,
Where we may take him, and disgrace him for it
Ford. There is no better way then that they spoke of
Page. How? to send him word they'll meete him in the Parke at midnight? Fie, fie, he'll neuer come
Eu. You say he has bin throwne in the Riuers: and has bin greeuously peaten, as an old o'man: me-thinkes there should be terrors in him, that he should not come: Me-thinkes his flesh is punish'd, hee shall haue no desires
Page. So thinke I too
M.Ford. Deuise but how you'l vse him whe[n] he comes,
And let vs two deuise to bring him thether
Mis.Page. There is an old tale goes, that Herne the
Hunter (sometime a keeper heere in Windsor Forrest)
Doth all the winter time, at still midnight
Walke round about an Oake, with great rag'd-hornes,
And there he blasts the tree, and takes the cattle,
And make milch-kine yeeld blood, and shakes a chaine
In a most hideous and dreadfull manner.
You haue heard of such a Spirit, and well you know
The superstitious idle-headed-Eld
Receiu'd, and did deliuer to our age
This tale of Herne the Hunter, for a truth
Page. Why yet there want not many that do feare
In deepe of night to walke by this Hernes Oake:
But what of this?
Mist.Ford. Marry this is our deuise,
That Falstaffe at that Oake shall meete with vs
Page. Well, let it not be doubted but he'll come,
And in this shape, when you haue brought him thether,
What shall be done with him? What is your plot?
Mist.Pa. That likewise haue we thoght vpon: & thus:
Nan Page (my daughter) and my little sonne,
And three or foure more of their growth, wee'l dresse
Like Vrchins, Ouphes, and Fairies, greene and white,
With rounds of waxen Tapers on their heads,
And rattles in their hands; vpon a sodaine,
As Falstaffe, she, and I, are newly met,
Let them from forth a saw-pit rush at once
With some diffused song: Vpon their sight
We two, in great amazednesse will flye:
Then let them all encircle him about,
And Fairy-like to pinch the vncleane Knight;
And aske him why that houre of Fairy Reuell,
In their so sacred pathes, he dares to tread
In shape prophane
Ford. And till he tell the truth,
Let the supposed Fairies pinch him, sound,
And burne him with their Tapers
Mist.Page. The truth being knowne,
We'll all present our selues; dis-horne the spirit,
And mocke him home to Windsor
Ford. The children must
Be practis'd well to this, or they'll neu'r doo't
Eua. I will teach the children their behauiours: and I will be like a Iacke-an-Apes also, to burne the Knight with my Taber
Ford. That will be excellent,
Ile go buy them vizards
Mist.Page. My Nan shall be the Queene of all the
Fairies, finely attired in a robe of white
Page. That silke will I go buy, and in that time
Shall M[aster]. Slender steale my Nan away,
And marry her at Eaton: go, send to Falstaffe straight
Ford. Nay, Ile to him againe in name of Broome,
Hee'l tell me all his purpose: sure hee'l come
Mist.Page. Feare not you that: Go get vs properties
And tricking for our Fayries
Euans. Let vs about it,
It is admirable pleasures, and ferry honest knaueries
Mis.Page. Go Mist[ris]. Ford,
Send quickly to Sir Iohn, to know his minde:
Ile to the Doctor, he hath my good will,
And none but he to marry with Nan Page:
That Slender (though well landed) is an Ideot:
And he, my husband best of all affects:
The Doctor is well monied, and his friends
Potent at Court: he, none but he shall haue her,
Though twenty thousand worthier come to craue her.
Scena Quinta.
Enter Host, Simple, Falstaffe, Bardolfe, Euans, Caius, Quickly.
Host. What wouldst thou haue? (Boore) what? (thick skin) speake, breathe, discusse: breefe, short, quicke, snap
Simp. Marry Sir, I come to speake with Sir Iohn Falstaffe from M[aster]. Slender
Host. There's his Chamber, his House, his Castle, his standing-bed and truckle-bed: 'tis painted about with the story of the Prodigall, fresh and new: go, knock and call: hee'l speake like an Anthropophaginian vnto thee: Knocke I say
Simp. There's an olde woman, a fat woman gone vp into his chamber: Ile be so bold as stay Sir till she come downe: I come to speake with her indeed
Host. Ha? A fat woman? The Knight may be robb'd:
Ile call. Bully-Knight, Bully Sir Iohn: speake from thy
Lungs Military: Art thou there? It is thine Host, thine
Ephesian cals
Fal. How now, mine Host? Host. Here's a Bohemian-Tartar taries the comming downe of thy fat-woman: Let her descend (Bully) let her descend: my Chambers are honourable: Fie, priuacy? Fie
Fal. There was (mine Host) an old-fat-woman euen now with me, but she's gone
Simp. Pray you Sir, was't not the Wise-woman of Brainford? Fal. I marry was it (Mussel-shell) what would you with her? Simp. My Master (Sir) my master Slender, sent to her seeing her go thorough the streets, to know (Sir) whether one Nim (Sir) that beguil'd him of a chaine, had the chaine, or no
Fal. I spake with the old woman about it
Sim. And what sayes she, I pray Sir?
Fal. Marry shee sayes, that the very same man that
beguil'd Master Slender of his Chaine, cozon'd him of it
Simp. I would I could haue spoken with the Woman her selfe, I had other things to haue spoken with her too, from him
Fal. What are they? let vs know
Host. I: come: quicke
Fal. I may not conceale them (Sir.)
Host. Conceale them, or thou di'st
Sim. Why sir, they were nothing but about Mistris Anne Page, to know if it were my Masters fortune to haue her, or no
Fal. 'Tis, 'tis his fortune
Sim. What Sir?
Fal. To haue her, or no: goe; say the woman told
me so
Sim. May I be bold to say so Sir?
Fal. I Sir: like who more bold
Sim. I thanke your worship: I shall make my Master
glad with these tydings
Host. Thou art clearkly: thou art clearkly (Sir Iohn) was there a wise woman with thee? Fal. I that there was (mine Host) one that hath taught me more wit, then euer I learn'd before in my life: and I paid nothing for it neither, but was paid for my learning
Bar. Out alas (Sir) cozonage: meere cozonage
Host. Where be my horses? speake well of them varletto
Bar. Run away with the cozoners: for so soone as I came beyond Eaton, they threw me off, from behinde one of them, in a slough of myre; and set spurres, and away; like three Germane-diuels; three Doctor Faustasses
Host. They are gone but to meete the Duke (villaine) doe not say they be fled: Germanes are honest men
Euan. Where is mine Host? Host. What is the matter Sir? Euan. Haue a care of your entertainments: there is a friend of mine come to Towne, tels mee there is three Cozen-Iermans, that has cozend all the Hosts of Reading, of Maidenhead; of Cole-brooke, of horses and money: I tell you for good will (looke you) you are wise, and full of gibes, and vlouting-stocks: and 'tis not conuenient you should be cozoned. Fare you well
Cai. Ver' is mine Host de Iarteere?
Host. Here (Master Doctor) in perplexitie, and doubtfull
delemma
Cai. I cannot tell vat is dat: but it is tell-a-me, dat you make grand preparation for a Duke de Iamanie: by my trot: der is no Duke that the Court is know, to come: I tell you for good will: adieu
Host. Huy and cry, (villaine) goe: assist me Knight, I am vndone: fly, run: huy, and cry (villaine) I am vndone
Fal. I would all the world might be cozond, for I haue beene cozond and beaten too: if it should come to the eare of the Court, how I haue beene transformed; and how my transformation hath beene washd, and cudgeld, they would melt mee out of my fat drop by drop, and liquor Fishermens-boots with me: I warrant they would whip me with their fine wits, till I were as crest-falne as a dride-peare: I neuer prosper'd, since I forswore my selfe at Primero: well, if my winde were but long enough; I would repent: Now? Whence come you? Qui. From the two parties forsooth
Fal. The Diuell take one partie, and his Dam the other: and so they shall be both bestowed; I haue suffer'd more for their sakes; more then the villanous inconstancy of mans disposition is able to beare
Qui. And haue not they suffer'd? Yes, I warrant; speciously one of them; Mistris Ford (good heart) is beaten blacke and blew, that you cannot see a white spot about her
Fal. What tell'st thou mee of blacke, and blew? I was beaten my selfe into all the colours of the Rainebow: and I was like to be apprehended for the Witch of Braineford, but that my admirable dexteritie of wit, my counterfeiting the action of an old woman deliuer'd me, the knaue Constable had set me ith' Stocks, ith' common Stocks, for a Witch
Qu, Sir: let me speake with you in your Chamber, you shall heare how things goe, and (I warrant) to your content: here is a Letter will say somewhat: (good-hearts) what adoe here is to bring you together? Sure, one of you do's not serue heauen well, that you are so cross'd
Fal. Come vp into my Chamber.
Exeunt.
Scena Sexta.
Enter Fenton, Host.
Host. Master Fenton, talke not to mee, my minde is
heauy: I will giue ouer all
Fen. Yet heare me speake: assist me in my purpose,
And (as I am a gentleman) ile giue thee
A hundred pound in gold, more then your losse
Host. I will heare you (Master Fenton) and I will (at
the least) keepe your counsell
Fen. From time to time, I haue acquainted you
With the deare loue I beare to faire Anne Page,
Who, mutually, hath answer'd my affection,
(So farre forth, as her selfe might be her chooser)
Euen to my wish; I haue a letter from her
Of such contents, as you will wonder at;
The mirth whereof, so larded with my matter,
That neither (singly) can be manifested
Without the shew of both: fat Falstaffe
Hath a great Scene; the image of the iest
Ile show you here at large (harke good mine Host:)
To night at Hernes-Oke, iust 'twixt twelue and one,
Must my sweet Nan present the Faerie-Queene:
The purpose why, is here: in which disguise
While other Iests are something ranke on foote,
Her father hath commanded her to slip
Away with Slender, and with him, at Eaton
Immediately to Marry: She hath consented: Now Sir,
Her Mother, (euen strong against that match
And firme for Doctor Caius) hath appointed
That he shall likewise shuffle her away,
While other sports are tasking of their mindes,
And at the Deanry, where a Priest attends
Strait marry her: to this her Mothers plot
She seemingly obedient) likewise hath
Made promise to the Doctor: Now, thus it rests,
Her Father meanes she shall be all in white;
And in that habit, when Slender sees his time
To take her by the hand, and bid her goe,
She shall goe with him: her Mother hath intended
(The better to deuote her to the Doctor;
For they must all be mask'd, and vizarded)
That quaint in greene, she shall be loose en-roab'd,
With Ribonds-pendant, flaring 'bout her head;
And when the Doctor spies his vantage ripe,
To pinch her by the hand, and on that token,
The maid hath giuen consent to go with him
Host. Which meanes she to deceiue? Father, or Mother
Fen. Both (my good Host) to go along with me:
And heere it rests, that you'l procure the Vicar
To stay for me at Church, 'twixt twelue, and one,
And in the lawfull name of marrying,
To giue our hearts vnited ceremony
Host. Well, husband your deuice; Ile to the Vicar,
Bring you the Maid, you shall not lacke a Priest
Fen. So shall I euermore be bound to thee;
Besides, Ile make a present recompence.
Exeunt.
Actus Quintus. Scoena Prima.
Enter Falstoffe, Quickly, and Ford.
Fal. Pre'thee no more pratling: go, Ile hold, this is the third time: I hope good lucke lies in odde numbers: Away, go, they say there is Diuinity in odde Numbers, either in natiuity, chance, or death: away
Qui. Ile prouide you a chaine, and Ile do what I can to get you a paire of hornes
Fall. Away I say, time weares, hold vp your head & mince. How now M[aster]. Broome? Master Broome, the matter will be knowne to night, or neuer. Bee you in the Parke about midnight, at Hernes-Oake, and you shall see wonders
Ford. Went you not to her yesterday (Sir) as you told me you had appointed? Fal. I went to her (Master Broome) as you see, like a poore-old-man, but I came from her (Master Broome) like a poore-old-woman; that same knaue (Ford hir husband) hath the finest mad diuell of iealousie in him (Master Broome) that euer gouern'd Frensie. I will tell you, he beate me greeuously, in the shape of a woman: (for in the shape of Man (Master Broome) I feare not Goliath with a Weauers beame, because I know also, life is a Shuttle) I am in hast, go along with mee, Ile tell you all (Master Broome:) since I pluckt Geese, plaide Trewant, and whipt Top, I knew not what 'twas to be beaten, till lately. Follow mee, Ile tell you strange things of this knaue Ford, on whom to night I will be reuenged, and I will deliuer his wife into your hand. Follow, straunge things in hand (M[aster]. Broome) follow.
Exeunt.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Page, Shallow, Slender.
Page. Come, come: wee'll couch i'th Castle-ditch, till we see the light of our Fairies. Remember son Slender, my Slen. I forsooth, I haue spoke with her, & we haue a nay-word, how to know one another. I come to her in white, and cry Mum; she cries Budget, and by that we know one another
Shal. That's good too: But what needes either your Mum, or her Budget? The white will decipher her well enough. It hath strooke ten a' clocke
Page. The night is darke, Light and Spirits will become it wel: Heauen prosper our sport. No man means euill but the deuill, and we shal know him by his hornes. Lets away: follow me.
Exeunt.
Scena Tertia.
Enter Mist.Page, Mist.Ford, Caius.
Mist.Page. Mr Doctor, my daughter is in green, when you see your time, take her by the hand, away with her to the Deanerie, and dispatch it quickly: go before into the Parke: we two must go together
Cai. I know vat I haue to do, adieu
Mist.Page. Fare you well (Sir:) my husband will not reioyce so much at the abuse of Falstaffe, as he will chafe at the Doctors marrying my daughter: But 'tis no matter; better a little chiding, then a great deale of heartbreake
Mist.Ford. Where is Nan now? and her troop of Fairies? and the Welch-deuill Herne? Mist.Page. They are all couch'd in a pit hard by Hernes Oake, with obscur'd Lights; which at the very instant of Falstaffes and our meeting, they will at once display to the night
Mist.Ford. That cannot choose but amaze him
Mist.Page. If he be not amaz'd he will be mock'd: If he be amaz'd, he will euery way be mock'd
Mist.Ford. Wee'll betray him finely
Mist.Page. Against such Lewdsters, and their lechery,
Those that betray them, do no treachery
Mist.Ford. The houre drawes-on: to the Oake, to the
Oake.
Exeunt.
Scena Quarta.
Enter Euans and Fairies.
Euans. Trib, trib Fairies: Come, and remember your parts: be pold (I pray you) follow me into the pit, and when I giue the watch-'ords, do as I pid you: Come, come, trib, trib.
Exeunt.
Scena Quinta.
Enter Falstaffe, Mistris Page, Mistris Ford, Euans, Anne Page,
Fairies,
Page, Ford, Quickly, Slender, Fenton, Caius, Pistoll.
Fal. The Windsor-bell hath stroke twelue: the Minute drawes-on: Now the hot-bloodied-Gods assist me: Remember Ioue, thou was't a Bull for thy Europa, Loue set on thy hornes. O powerfull Loue, that in some respects makes a Beast a Man: in som other, a Man a beast. You were also (Iupiter) a Swan, for the loue of Leda: O omnipotent Loue, how nere the God drew to the complexion of a Goose: a fault done first in the forme of a beast, (O Ioue, a beastly fault:) and then another fault, in the semblance of a Fowle, thinke on't (Ioue) a fowle-fault. When Gods haue hot backes, what shall poore men do? For me, I am heere a Windsor Stagge, and the fattest (I thinke) i'th Forrest. Send me a coole rut-time (Ioue) or who can blame me to pisse my Tallow? Who comes heere? my Doe? M.Ford. Sir Iohn? Art thou there (my Deere?) My male-Deere? Fal. My Doe, with the blacke Scut? Let the skie raine Potatoes: let it thunder, to the tune of Greenesleeues, haile-kissing Comfits, and snow Eringoes: Let there come a tempest of prouocation, I will shelter mee heere
M.Ford. Mistris Page is come with me (sweet hart.) Fal. Diuide me like a brib'd-Bucke, each a Haunch: I will keepe my sides to my selfe, my shoulders for the fellow of this walke; and my hornes I bequeath your husbands. Am I a Woodman, ha? Speake I like Herne the Hunter? Why, now is Cupid a child of conscience, he makes restitution. As I am a true spirit, welcome
M.Page. Alas, what noise?
M.Ford. Heauen forgiue our sinnes
Fal. What should this be?
M.Ford. M.Page. Away, away
Fal. I thinke the diuell wil not haue me damn'd,
Least the oyle that's in me should set hell on fire;
He would neuer else crosse me thus.
Enter Fairies.
Qui. Fairies blacke, gray, greene, and white,
You Moone-shine reuellers, and shades of night.
You Orphan heires of fixed destiny,
Attend your office, and your quality.
Crier Hob-goblyn, make the Fairy Oyes
Pist. Elues, list your names: Silence you aiery toyes.
Cricket, to Windsor-chimnies shalt thou leape;
Where fires thou find'st vnrak'd, and hearths vnswept,
There pinch the Maids as blew as Bill-berry,
Our radiant Queene, hates Sluts, and Sluttery
Fal. They are Fairies, he that speaks to them shall die,
Ile winke, and couch: No man their workes must eie
Eu. Wher's Bede? Go you, and where you find a maid
That ere she sleepe has thrice her prayers said,
Raise vp the Organs of her fantasie,
Sleepe she as sound as carelesse infancie,
But those as sleepe, and thinke not on their sins,
Pinch them armes, legs, backes, shoulders, sides, & shins
Qu. About, about:
Search Windsor Castle (Elues) within, and out.
Strew good lucke (Ouphes) on euery sacred roome,
That it may stand till the perpetuall doome,
In state as wholsome, as in state 'tis fit,
Worthy the Owner, and the Owner it.
The seuerall Chaires of Order, looke you scowre
With iuyce of Balme; and euery precious flowre,
Each faire Instalment, Coate, and seu'rall Crest,
With loyall Blazon, euermore be blest.
And Nightly-meadow-Fairies, looke you sing
Like to the Garters-Compasse, in a ring
Th' expressure that it beares: Greene let it be,
More fertile-fresh then all the Field to see:
And, Hony Soit Qui Maly-Pence, write
In Emrold-tuffes, Flowres purple, blew, and white,
Like Saphire-pearle, and rich embroiderie,
Buckled below faire Knight-hoods bending knee;
Fairies vse Flowres for their characterie.
Away, disperse: But till 'tis one a clocke,
Our Dance of Custome, round about the Oke
Of Herne the Hunter, let vs not forget
Euan. Pray you lock hand in hand: your selues in order set:
And twenty glow-wormes shall our Lanthornes bee
To guide our Measure round about the Tree.
But stay, I smell a man of middle earth
Fal. Heauens defend me from that Welsh Fairy,
Least he transforme me to a peece of Cheese
Pist. Vilde worme, thou wast ore-look'd euen in thy
birth
Qu. With Triall-fire touch me his finger end:
If he be chaste, the flame will backe descend
And turne him to no paine: but if he start,
It is the flesh of a corrupted hart
Pist. A triall, come
Eua. Come: will this wood take fire?
Fal. Oh, oh, oh
Qui. Corrupt, corrupt, and tainted in desire.
About him (Fairies) sing a scornfull rime,
And as you trip, still pinch him to your time.
The Song.
Fie on sinnefull phantasie: Fie on Lust, and Luxurie:
Lust is but a bloudy fire, kindled with vnchaste desire,
Fed in heart whose flames aspire,
As thoughts do blow them higher and higher.
Pinch him (Fairies) mutually: Pinch him for his villanie.
Pinch him, and burne him, and turne him about,
Till Candles, & Star-light, & Moone-shine be out
Page. Nay do not flye, I thinke we haue watcht you now: Will none but Herne the Hunter serue your turne? M.Page. I pray you come, hold vp the iest no higher. Now (good Sir Iohn) how like you Windsor wiues? See you these husband? Do not these faire yoakes Become the Forrest better then the Towne? Ford. Now Sir, whose a Cuckold now? Mr Broome, Falstaffes a Knaue, a Cuckoldly knaue, Heere are his hornes Master Broome: And Master Broome, he hath enioyed nothing of Fords, but his Buck-basket, his cudgell, and twenty pounds of money, which must be paid to Mr Broome, his horses are arrested for it, Mr Broome
M.Ford. Sir Iohn, we haue had ill lucke: wee could neuer meete: I will neuer take you for my Loue againe, but I will alwayes count you my Deere
Fal. I do begin to perceiue that I am made an Asse
Ford. I, and an Oxe too: both the proofes are extant
Fal. And these are not Fairies: I was three or foure times in the thought they were not Fairies, and yet the guiltinesse of my minde, the sodaine surprize of my powers, droue the grossenesse of the foppery into a receiu'd beleefe, in despight of the teeth of all rime and reason, that they were Fairies. See now how wit may be made a Iacke-a-Lent, when 'tis vpon ill imployment
Euans. Sir Iohn Falstaffe, serue Got, and leaue your desires, and Fairies will not pinse you
Ford. Well said Fairy Hugh
Euans. And leaue you your iealouzies too, I pray
you
Ford. I will neuer mistrust my wife againe, till thou
art able to woo her in good English
Fal. Haue I laid my braine in the Sun, and dri'de it, that it wants matter to preuent so grosse ore-reaching as this? Am I ridden with a Welch Goate too? Shal I haue a Coxcombe of Frize? Tis time I were choak'd with a peece of toasted Cheese
Eu. Seese is not good to giue putter; your belly is al putter
Fal. Seese, and Putter? Haue I liu'd to stand at the taunt of one that makes Fritters of English? This is enough to be the decay of lust and late-walking through the Realme
Mist.Page. Why Sir Iohn, do you thinke though wee
would haue thrust vertue out of our hearts by the head
and shoulders, and haue giuen our selues without scruple
to hell, that euer the deuill could haue made you our
delight?
Ford. What, a hodge-pudding? A bag of flax?
Mist.Page. A puft man?
Page. Old, cold, wither'd, and of intollerable entrailes?
Ford. And one that is as slanderous as Sathan?
Page. And as poore as Iob?
Ford. And as wicked as his wife?
Euan. And giuen to Fornications, and to Tauernes,
and Sacke, and Wine, and Metheglins, and to drinkings
and swearings, and starings? Pribles and prables?
Fal. Well, I am your Theame: you haue the start of
me, I am deiected: I am not able to answer the Welch
Flannell, Ignorance it selfe is a plummet ore me, vse me
as you will
Ford. Marry Sir, wee'l bring you to Windsor to one Mr Broome, that you haue cozon'd of money, to whom you should haue bin a Pander: ouer and aboue that you haue suffer'd, I thinke, to repay that money will be a biting affliction
Page. Yet be cheerefull Knight: thou shalt eat a posset to night at my house, wher I will desire thee to laugh at my wife, that now laughes at thee: Tell her Mr Slender hath married her daughter
Mist.Page. Doctors doubt that;
If Anne Page be my daughter, she is (by this) Doctour
Caius wife
Slen. Whoa hoe, hoe, Father Page
Page. Sonne? How now? How now Sonne,
Haue you dispatch'd?
Slen. Dispatch'd? Ile make the best in Glostershire
know on't: would I were hang'd la, else
Page. Of what sonne? Slen. I came yonder at Eaton to marry Mistris Anne Page, and she's a great lubberly boy. If it had not bene i'th Church, I would haue swing'd him, or hee should haue swing'd me. If I did not thinke it had beene Anne Page, would I might neuer stirre, and 'tis a Post-masters Boy
Page. Vpon my life then, you tooke the wrong
Slen. What neede you tell me that? I think so, when I tooke a Boy for a Girle: If I had bene married to him, (for all he was in womans apparrell) I would not haue had him
Page. Why this is your owne folly, Did not I tell you how you should know my daughter, By her garments? Slen. I went to her in greene, and cried Mum, and she cride budget, as Anne and I had appointed, and yet it was not Anne, but a Post-masters boy
Mist.Page. Good George be not angry, I knew of your purpose: turn'd my daughter into white, and indeede she is now with the Doctor at the Deanrie, and there married
Cai. Ver is Mistris Page: by gar I am cozoned, I ha married oon Garsoon, a boy; oon pesant, by gar. A boy, it is not An Page, by gar, I am cozened
M.Page. Why? did you take her in white?
Cai. I bee gar, and 'tis a boy: be gar, Ile raise all
Windsor
Ford. This is strange: Who hath got the right Anne?
Page. My heart misgiues me, here comes Mr Fenton.
How now Mr Fenton?
Anne. Pardon good father, good my mother pardon
Page. Now Mistris:
How chance you went not with Mr Slender?
M.Page. Why went you not with Mr Doctor, maid?
Fen. You do amaze her: heare the truth of it,
You would haue married her most shamefully,
Where there was no proportion held in loue:
The truth is, she and I (long since contracted)
Are now so sure that nothing can dissolue vs:
Th' offence is holy, that she hath committed,
And this deceit looses the name of craft,
Of disobedience, or vnduteous title,
Since therein she doth euitate and shun
A thousand irreligious cursed houres
Which forced marriage would haue brought vpon her
Ford. Stand not amaz'd, here is no remedie:
In Loue, the heauens themselues do guide the state,
Money buyes Lands, and wiues are sold by fate
Fal. I am glad, though you haue tane a special stand
to strike at me, that your Arrow hath glanc'd
Page. Well, what remedy? Fenton, heauen giue thee
ioy, what cannot be eschew'd, must be embrac'd
Fal. When night-dogges run, all sorts of Deere are
chac'd
Mist.Page. Well, I will muse no further: Mr Fenton,
Heauen giue you many, many merry dayes:
Good husband, let vs euery one go home,
And laugh this sport ore by a Countrie fire,
Sir Iohn and all
Ford. Let it be so (Sir Iohn:)
To Master Broome, you yet shall hold your word,
For he, to night, shall lye with Mistris Ford:
Exeunt.
FINIS. THE Merry Wiues of Windsor.
Measvre, For Measure
Actus primus, Scena prima.
Enter Duke, Escalus, Lords.
Duke. Escalus
Esc. My Lord
Duk. Of Gouernment, the properties to vnfold,
Would seeme in me t' affect speech & discourse,
Since I am put to know, that your owne Science
Exceedes (in that) the lists of all aduice
My strength can giue you: Then no more remaines
But that, to your sufficiency, as your worth is able,
And let them worke: The nature of our People,
Our Cities Institutions, and the Termes
For Common Iustice, y'are as pregnant in
As Art, and practise, hath inriched any
That we remember: There is our Commission,
From which, we would not haue you warpe; call hither,
I say, bid come before vs Angelo:
What figure of vs thinke you, he will beare.
For you must know, we haue with speciall soule
Elected him our absence to supply;
Lent him our terror, drest him with our loue,
And giuen his Deputation all the Organs
Of our owne powre: What thinke you of it?
Esc. If any in Vienna be of worth
To vndergoe such ample grace, and honour,
It is Lord Angelo.
Enter Angelo.
Duk. Looke where he comes
Ang. Alwayes obedient to your Graces will,
I come to know your pleasure
Duke. Angelo:
There is a kinde of Character in thy life,
That to th' obseruer, doth thy history
Fully vnfold: Thy selfe, and thy belongings
Are not thine owne so proper, as to waste
Thy selfe vpon thy vertues; they on thee:
Heauen doth with vs, as we, with Torches doe,
Not light them for themselues: For if our vertues
Did not goe forth of vs, 'twere all alike
As if we had them not: Spirits are not finely touch'd,
But to fine issues: nor nature neuer lends
The smallest scruple of her excellence,
But like a thrifty goddesse, she determines
Her selfe the glory of a creditour,
Both thanks, and vse; but I do bend my speech
To one that can my part in him aduertise;
Hold therefore Angelo:
In our remoue, be thou at full, our selfe:
Mortallitie and Mercie in Vienna
Liue in thy tongue, and heart: Old Escalus
Though first in question, is thy secondary.
Take thy Commission
Ang. Now good my Lord
Let there be some more test, made of my mettle,
Before so noble, and so great a figure
Be stamp't vpon it
Duk. No more euasion:
We haue with a leauen'd, and prepared choice
Proceeded to you; therefore take your honors:
Our haste from hence is of so quicke condition,
That it prefers it selfe, and leaues vnquestion'd
Matters of needfull value: We shall write to you
As time, and our concernings shall importune,
How it goes with vs, and doe looke to know
What doth befall you here. So fare you well:
To th' hopefull execution doe I leaue you,
Of your Commissions
Ang. Yet giue leaue (my Lord,)
That we may bring you something on the way
Duk. My haste may not admit it,
Nor neede you (on mine honor) haue to doe
With any scruple: your scope is as mine owne,
So to inforce, or qualifie the Lawes
As to your soule seemes good: Giue me your hand,
Ile priuily away: I loue the people,
But doe not like to stage me to their eyes:
Though it doe well, I doe not rellish well
Their lowd applause, and Aues vehement:
Nor doe I thinke the man of safe discretion
That do's affect it. Once more fare you well
Ang. The heauens giue safety to your purposes
Esc. Lead forth, and bring you backe in happinesse.
Enter.
Duk. I thanke you, fare you well
Esc. I shall desire you, Sir, to giue me leaue
To haue free speech with you; and it concernes me
To looke into the bottome of my place:
A powre I haue, but of what strength and nature,
I am not yet instructed
Ang. 'Tis so with me: Let vs withdraw together,
And we may soone our satisfaction haue
Touching that point
Esc. Ile wait vpon your honor.
Exeunt.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Lucio, and two other Gentlemen.
Luc. If the Duke, with the other Dukes, come not to composition with the King of Hungary, why then all the Dukes fall vpon the King
1.Gent. Heauen grant vs its peace, but not the King of Hungaries
2.Gent. Amen
Luc. Thou conclud'st like the Sanctimonious Pirat, that went to sea with the ten Commandements, but scrap'd one out of the Table
2.Gent. Thou shalt not Steale? Luc. I, that he raz'd
1.Gent. Why? 'twas a commandement, to command the Captaine and all the rest from their functions: they put forth to steale: There's not a Souldier of vs all, that in the thanks-giuing before meate, do rallish the petition well, that praies for peace
2.Gent. I neuer heard any Souldier dislike it
Luc. I beleeue thee: for I thinke thou neuer was't where Grace was said
2.Gent. No? a dozen times at least
1.Gent. What? In meeter? Luc. In any proportion: or in any language
1.Gent. I thinke, or in any Religion
Luc. I, why not? Grace, is Grace, despight of all controuersie: as for example; Thou thy selfe art a wicked villaine, despight of all Grace
1.Gent. Well: there went but a paire of sheeres betweene
vs
Luc. I grant: as there may betweene the Lists, and
the Veluet. Thou art the List
1.Gent. And thou the Veluet; thou art good veluet; thou'rt a three pild-peece I warrant thee: I had as liefe be a Lyst of an English Kersey, as be pil'd, as thou art pil'd, for a French Veluet. Do I speake feelingly now? Luc. I thinke thou do'st: and indeed with most painfull feeling of thy speech: I will, out of thine owne confession, learne to begin thy health; but, whilst I liue forget to drinke after thee
1.Gen. I think I haue done my selfe wrong, haue I not?
2.Gent. Yes, that thou hast; whether thou art tainted,
or free.
Enter Bawde.
Luc. Behold, behold, where Madam Mitigation comes.
I haue purchas'd as many diseases vnder her Roofe,
As come to
2.Gent. To what, I pray?
Luc. Iudge
2.Gent. To three thousand Dollours a yeare
1.Gent. I, and more
Luc. A French crowne more
1.Gent. Thou art alwayes figuring diseases in me; but thou art full of error, I am sound
Luc. 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
1.Gent. How now, which of your hips has the most
profound Ciatica?
Bawd. Well, well: there's one yonder arrested, and
carried to prison, was worth fiue thousand of you all
2.Gent. Who's that I pray'thee?
Bawd. Marry Sir, that's Claudio, Signior Claudio
1.Gent. Claudio to prison? 'tis not so
Bawd. Nay, but I know 'tis so: I saw him arrested: saw him carried away: and which is more, within these three daies his head to be chop'd off
Luc. But, after all this fooling, I would not haue it so:
Art thou sure of this?
Bawd. I am too sure of it: and it is for getting Madam
Iulietta with childe
Luc. Beleeue me this may be: he promis'd to meete me two howres since, and he was euer precise in promise keeping
2.Gent. Besides you know, it drawes somthing neere to the speech we had to such a purpose
1.Gent. But most of all agreeing with the proclamatio[n]
Luc. Away: let's goe learne the truth of it.
Enter.
Bawd. Thus, what with the war; what with the sweat, what with the gallowes, and what with pouerty, I am Custom-shrunke. How now? what's the newes with you.
Enter Clowne.
Clo. Yonder man is carried to prison
Baw. Well: what has he done?
Clo. A Woman
Baw. But what's his offence?
Clo. Groping for Trowts, in a peculiar Riuer
Baw. What? is there a maid with child by him?
Clo. No: but there's a woman with maid by him:
you haue not heard of the proclamation, haue you?
Baw. What proclamation, man?
Clow. All howses in the Suburbs of Vienna must bee
pluck'd downe
Bawd. And what shall become of those in the Citie?
Clow. They shall stand for seed: they had gon down
to, but that a wise Burger put in for them
Bawd. But shall all our houses of resort in the Suburbs
be puld downe?
Clow. To the ground, Mistris
Bawd. Why heere's a change indeed in the Commonwealth: what shall become of me? Clow. Come: feare not you; good Counsellors lacke no Clients: though you change your place, you neede not change your Trade: Ile bee your Tapster still; courage, there will bee pitty taken on you; you that haue worne your eyes almost out in the seruice, you will bee considered
Bawd. What's to doe heere, Thomas Tapster? let's
withdraw?
Clo. Here comes Signior Claudio, led by the Prouost
to prison: and there's Madam Iuliet.
Exeunt.
Scena Tertia.
Enter Prouost, Claudio, Iuliet, Officers, Lucio, & 2.Gent.
Cla. Fellow, why do'st thou show me thus to th' world?
Beare me to prison, where I am committed
Pro. I do it not in euill disposition,
But from Lord Angelo by speciall charge
Clau. Thus can the demy-god (Authority)
Make vs pay downe, for our offence, by waight
The words of heauen; on whom it will, it will,
On whom it will not (soe) yet still 'tis iust
Luc. Why how now Claudio? whence comes this restraint
Cla. From too much liberty, (my Lucio) Liberty
As surfet is the father of much fast,
So euery Scope by the immoderate vse
Turnes to restraint: Our Natures doe pursue
Like Rats that rauyn downe their proper Bane,
A thirsty euill, and when we drinke, we die
Luc. If I could speake so wisely vnder an arrest, I would send for certaine of my Creditors: and yet, to say the truth, I had as lief haue the foppery of freedome, as the mortality of imprisonment: what's thy offence, Claudio? Cla. What (but to speake of) would offend againe
Luc. What, is't murder?
Cla. No
Luc. Lecherie?
Cla. Call it so
Pro. Away, Sir, you must goe
Cla. One word, good friend:
Lucio, a word with you
Luc. A hundred:
If they'll doe you any good: Is Lechery so look'd after?
Cla. Thus stands it with me: vpon a true contract
I got possession of Iulietas bed,
You know the Lady, she is fast my wife,
Saue that we doe the denunciation lacke
Of outward Order. This we came not to,
Onely for propogation of a Dowre
Remaining in the Coffer of her friends,
From whom we thought it meet to hide our Loue
Till Time had made them for vs. But it chances
The stealth of our most mutuall entertainment
With Character too grosse, is writ on Iuliet
Luc. With childe, perhaps?
Cla. Vnhappely, euen so.
And the new Deputie, now for the Duke,
Whether it be the fault and glimpse of newnes,
Or whether that the body publique, be
A horse whereon the Gouernor doth ride,
Who newly in the Seate, that it may know
He can command; lets it strait feele the spur:
Whether the Tirranny be in his place,
Or in his Eminence that fills it vp
I stagger in: But this new Gouernor
Awakes me all the inrolled penalties
Which haue (like vn-scowr'd Armor) hung by th' wall
So long, that ninteene Zodiacks haue gone round,
And none of them beene worne; and for a name
Now puts the drowsie and neglected Act
Freshly on me: 'tis surely for a name
Luc. I warrant it is: And thy head stands so tickle on thy shoulders, that a milke-maid, if she be in loue, may sigh it off: Send after the Duke, and appeale to him
Cla. I haue done so, but hee's not to be found.
I pre'thee (Lucio) doe me this kinde seruice:
This day, my sister should the Cloyster enter,
And there receiue her approbation.
Acquaint her with the danger of my state,
Implore her, in my voice, that she make friends
To the strict deputie: bid her selfe assay him,
I haue great hope in that: for in her youth
There is a prone and speechlesse dialect,
Such as moue men: beside, she hath prosperous Art
When she will play with reason, and discourse,
And well she can perswade
Luc. I pray shee may; aswell for the encouragement of the like, which else would stand vnder greeuous imposition: as for the enioying of thy life, who I would be sorry should bee thus foolishly lost, at a game of ticketacke: Ile to her
Cla. I thanke you good friend Lucio
Luc. Within two houres
Cla. Come Officer, away.
Exeunt.
Scena Quarta.
Enter Duke and Frier Thomas.
Duk. No: holy Father, throw away that thought,
Beleeue not that the dribling dart of Loue
Can pierce a compleat bosome: why, I desire thee
To giue me secret harbour, hath a purpose
More graue, and wrinkled, then the aimes, and ends
Of burning youth
Fri. May your Grace speake of it?
Duk. My holy Sir, none better knowes then you
How I haue euer lou'd the life remoued
And held in idle price, to haunt assemblies
Where youth, and cost, witlesse brauery keepes.
I haue deliuerd to Lord Angelo
(A man of stricture and firme abstinence)
My absolute power, and place here in Vienna,
And he supposes me trauaild to Poland,
(For so I haue strewd it in the common eare)
And so it is receiu'd: Now (pious Sir)
You will demand of me, why I do this
Fri. Gladly, my Lord
Duk. We haue strict Statutes, and most biting Laws,
(The needfull bits and curbes to headstrong weedes,)
Which for this foureteene yeares, we haue let slip,
Euen like an ore-growne Lyon in a Caue
That goes not out to prey: Now, as fond Fathers,
Hauing bound vp the threatning twigs of birch,
Onely to sticke it in their childrens sight,
For terror, not to vse: in time the rod
More mock'd, then fear'd: so our Decrees,
Dead to infliction, to themselues are dead,
And libertie, plucks Iustice by the nose;
The Baby beates the Nurse, and quite athwart
Goes all decorum
Fri. It rested in your Grace
To vnloose this tyde-vp Iustice, when you pleas'd:
And it in you more dreadfull would haue seem'd
Then in Lord Angelo
Duk. I doe feare: too dreadfull:
Sith 'twas my fault, to giue the people scope,
'Twould be my tirrany to strike and gall them,
For what I bid them doe: For, we bid this be done
When euill deedes haue their permissiue passe,
And not the punishment: therefore indeede (my father)
I haue on Angelo impos'd the office,
Who may in th' ambush of my name, strike home,
And yet, my nature neuer in the sight
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 pre'thee
Supply me with the habit, and instruct me
How I may formally in person beare
Like a true Frier: Moe reasons for this action
At our more leysure, shall I render you;
Onely, this one: Lord Angelo is precise,
Stands at a guard with Enuie: scarce confesses
That his blood flowes: or that his appetite
Is more to bread then stone: hence shall we see
If power change purpose: what our Seemers be.
Enter.
Scena Quinta.
Enter Isabell and Francisca a Nun.
Isa. And haue you Nuns no farther priuiledges?
Nun. Are not these large enough?
Isa. Yes truely; I speake not as desiring more,
But rather wishing a more strict restraint
Vpon the Sisterhood, the Votarists of Saint Clare.
Lucio within.
Luc. Hoa? peace be in this place
Isa. Who's that which cals?
Nun. It is a mans voice: gentle Isabella
Turne you the key, and know his businesse of him;
You may; I may not: you are yet vnsworne:
When you haue vowd, you must not speake with men,
But in the presence of the Prioresse;
Then if you speake, you must not show your face;
Or if you show your face, you must not speake.
He cals againe: I pray you answere him
Isa. Peace and prosperitie: who is't that cals?
Luc. Haile Virgin, (if you be) as those cheeke-Roses
Proclaime you are no lesse: can you so steed me,
As bring me to the sight of Isabella,
A Nouice of this place, and the faire Sister
To her vnhappie brother Claudio?
Isa. Why her vnhappy Brother? Let me aske,
The rather for I now must make you know
I am that Isabella, and his Sister
Luc. Gentle & faire: your Brother kindly greets you;
Not to be weary with you; he's in prison
Isa. Woe me; for what?
Luc. For that, which if my selfe might be his Iudge,
He should receiue his punishment, in thankes:
He hath got his friend with childe
Isa. Sir, make me not your storie
Luc. 'Tis true; I would not, though 'tis my familiar sin,
With Maids to seeme the Lapwing, and to iest
Tongue, far from heart: play with all Virgins so:
I hold you as a thing en-skied, and sainted,
By your renouncement, an imortall spirit
And to be talk'd with in sincerity,
As with a Saint
Isa. You doe blaspheme the good, in mocking me
Luc. Doe not beleeue it: fewnes, and truth; tis thus,
Your brother, and his louer haue embrac'd;
As those that feed, grow full: as blossoming Time
That from the seednes, the bare fallow brings
To teeming foyson: euen so her plenteous wombe
Expresseth his full Tilth, and husbandry
Isa. Some one with childe by him? my cosen Iuliet?
Luc. Is she your cosen?
Isa. Adoptedly, as schoole-maids change their names
By vaine, though apt affection
Luc. She it is
Isa. Oh, let him marry her
Luc. This is the point.
The Duke is very strangely gone from hence;
Bore many gentlemen (my selfe being one)
In hand, and hope of action: but we doe learne,
By those that know the very Nerues of State,
His giuing-out, were of an infinite distance
From his true meant designe: vpon his place,
(And with full line of his authority)
Gouernes Lord Angelo; A man, whose blood
Is very snow-broth: one, who neuer feeles
The wanton stings, and motions of the sence;
But doth rebate, and blunt his naturall edge
With profits of the minde: Studie, and fast
He (to giue feare to vse, and libertie,
Which haue, for long, run-by the hideous law,
As Myce, by Lyons) hath pickt out an act,
Vnder whose heauy sence, your brothers life
Fals into forfeit: he arrests him on it,
And followes close the rigor of the Statute
To make him an example: all hope is gone,
Vnlesse you haue the grace, by your faire praier
To soften Angelo: And that's my pith of businesse
'Twixt you, and your poore brother
Isa. Doth he so,
Seeke his life?
Luc. Has censur'd him already,
And as I heare, the Prouost hath a warrant
For's execution
Isa. Alas: what poore
Abilitie's in me, to doe him good
Luc. Assay the powre you haue
Isa. My power? alas, I doubt
Luc. Our doubts are traitors
And makes vs loose the good we oft might win,
By fearing to attempt: Goe to Lord Angelo
And let him learne to know, when Maidens sue
Men giue like gods: but when they weepe and kneele,
All their petitions, are as freely theirs
As they themselues would owe them
Isa. Ile see what I can doe
Luc. But speedily
Isa. I will about it strait;
No longer staying, but to giue the Mother
Notice of my affaire: I humbly thanke you:
Commend me to my brother: soone at night
Ile send him certaine word of my successe
Luc. I take my leaue of you
Isa. Good sir, adieu.
Exeunt.
Actus Secundus. Scoena Prima.
Enter Angelo, Escalus, and seruants, Iustice.
Ang. We must not make a scar-crow of the Law,
Setting it vp to feare the Birds of prey,
And let it keepe one shape, till custome make it
Their pearch, and not their terror
Esc. I, but yet
Let vs be keene, and rather cut a little
Then fall, and bruise to death: alas, this gentleman
Whom I would saue, had a most noble father,
Let but your honour know
(Whom I beleeue to be most strait in vertue)
That in the working of your owne affections,
Had time coheard with Place, or place with wishing,
Or that the resolute acting of our blood
Could haue attaind th' effect of your owne purpose,
Whether you had not sometime in your life
Er'd in this point, which now you censure him,
And puld the Law vpon you
Ang. 'Tis one thing to be tempted (Escalus)
Another thing to fall: I not deny
The Iury passing on the Prisoners life
May in the sworne-twelue haue a thiefe, or two
Guiltier then him they try; what's open made to Iustice,
That Iustice ceizes; What knowes the Lawes
That theeues do passe on theeues? 'Tis very pregnant,
The Iewell that we finde, we stoope, and take't,
Because we see it; but what we doe not see,
We tread vpon, and neuer thinke of it.
You may not so extenuate his offence,
For I haue had such faults; but rather tell me
When I, that censure him, do so offend,
Let mine owne Iudgement patterne out my death,
And nothing come in partiall. Sir, he must dye.
Enter Prouost.
Esc. Be it as your wisedome will
Ang. Where is the Prouost?
Pro. Here if it like your honour
Ang. See that Claudio
Be executed by nine to morrow morning,
Bring him his Confessor, let him be prepar'd,
For that's the vtmost of his pilgrimage
Esc. Well: heauen forgiue him; and forgiue vs all:
Some rise by sinne, and some by vertue fall:
Some run from brakes of Ice, and answere none,
And some condemned for a fault alone.
Enter Elbow, Froth, Clowne, Officers.
Elb. Come, bring them away: if these be good people in a Common-weale, that doe nothing but vse their abuses in common houses, I know no law: bring them away
Ang. How now Sir, what's your name? And what's
the matter?
Elb. If it please your honour, I am the poore Dukes
Constable, and my name is Elbow; I doe leane vpon Iustice
Sir, and doe bring in here before your good honor,
two notorious Benefactors
Ang. Benefactors? Well: What Benefactors are they? Are they not Malefactors? Elb. If it please your honour, I know not well what they are: But precise villaines they are, that I am sure of, and void of all prophanation in the world, that good Christians ought to haue
Esc. This comes off well: here's a wise Officer
Ang. Goe to: What quality are they of? Elbow is
your name?
Why do'st thou not speake Elbow?
Clo. He cannot Sir: he's out at Elbow
Ang. What are you Sir? Elb. He Sir: a Tapster Sir: parcell Baud: one that serues a bad woman: whose house Sir was (as they say) pluckt downe in the Suborbs: and now shee professes a hot-house; which, I thinke is a very ill house too
Esc. How know you that?
Elb. My wife Sir? whom I detest before heauen, and
your honour
Esc. How? thy wife?
Elb. I Sir: whom I thanke heauen is an honest woman
Esc. Do'st thou detest her therefore?
Elb. I say sir, I will detest my selfe also, as well as she,
that this house, if it be not a Bauds house, it is pitty of her
life, for it is a naughty house
Esc. How do'st thou know that, Constable?
Elb. Marry sir, by my wife, who, if she had bin a woman
Cardinally giuen, might haue bin accus'd in fornication,
adultery, and all vncleanlinesse there
Esc. By the womans meanes?
Elb. I sir, by Mistris Ouerdons meanes: but as she spit
in his face, so she defide him
Clo. Sir, if it please your honor, this is not so
Elb. Proue it before these varlets here, thou honorable man, proue it
Esc. Doe you heare how he misplaces? Clo. Sir, she came in great with childe: and longing (sauing your honors reuerence) for stewd prewyns; 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 haue seene such dishes) they are not China-dishes, but very good dishes
Esc. Go too: go too: no matter for the dish sir
Clo. No indeede sir not of a pin; you are therein in the right: but, to the point: As I say, this Mistris Elbow, being (as I say) with childe, and being great bellied, and longing (as I said) for prewyns: and hauing but two in the dish (as I said) Master Froth here, this very man, hauing eaten the rest (as I said) & (as I say) paying for them very honestly: for, as you know Master Froth, I could not giue you three pence againe
Fro. No indeede
Clo. Very well: you being then (if you be remembred) cracking the stones of the foresaid prewyns
Fro. I, so I did indeede
Clo. Why, very well: I telling you then (if you be remembred) that such a one, and such a one, were past cure of the thing you wot of, vnlesse they kept very good diet, as I told you
Fro. All this is true
Clo. Why very well then
Esc. Come: you are a tedious foole: to the purpose: what was done to Elbowes wife, that hee hath cause to complaine of? Come me to what was done to her
Clo. Sir, your honor cannot come to that yet
Esc. No sir, nor I meane it not
Clo. Sir, but you shall come to it, by your honours leaue: And I beseech you, looke into Master Froth here sir, a man of foure-score pound a yeare; whose father died at Hallowmas: Was't not at Hallowmas Master Froth? Fro. Allhallond-Eue
Clo. Why very well: I hope here be truthes: he Sir, sitting (as I say) in a lower chaire, Sir, 'twas in the bunch of Grapes, where indeede you haue a delight to sit, haue you not? Fro. I haue so, because it is an open roome, and good for winter
Clo. Why very well then: I hope here be truthes
Ang. This will last out a night in Russia
When nights are longest there: Ile take my leaue,
And leaue you to the hearing of the cause;
Hoping youle finde good cause to whip them all.
Enter.
Esc. I thinke no lesse: good morrow to your Lordship.
Now Sir, come on: What was done to Elbowes
wife, once more?
Clo. Once Sir? there was nothing done to her once
Elb. I beseech you Sir, aske him what this man did to
my wife
Clo. I beseech your honor, aske me
Esc. Well sir, what did this Gentleman to her?
Clo. I beseech you sir, looke in this Gentlemans face:
good Master Froth looke vpon his honor; 'tis for a good
purpose: doth your honor marke his face?
Esc. I sir, very well
Clo. Nay, I beseech you marke it well
Esc. Well, I doe so
Clo. Doth your honor see any harme in his face?
Esc. Why no
Clo. Ile be supposd vpon a booke, his face is the worst thing about him: good then: if his face be the worst thing about him, how could Master Froth doe the Constables wife any harme? I would know that of your honour
Esc. He's in the right (Constable) what say you to it?
Elb. First, and it like you, the house is a respected
house; next, this is a respected fellow; and his Mistris is
a respected woman
Clo. By this hand Sir, his wife is a more respected person
then any of vs all
Elb. Varlet, thou lyest; thou lyest wicked varlet: the time is yet to come that shee was euer respected with man, woman, or childe
Clo. Sir, she was respected with him, before he married with her
Esc. Which is the wiser here; Iustice or Iniquitie? Is this true? Elb. O thou caytiffe: O thou varlet: O thou wicked Hanniball; I respected with her, before I was married to her? If euer I was respected with her, or she with me, let not your worship thinke mee the poore Dukes Officer: proue this, thou wicked Hanniball, or ile haue mine action of battry on thee
Esc. If he tooke you a box o'th' eare, you might haue your action of slander too
Elb. Marry I thanke your good worship for it: what is't your Worships pleasure I shall doe with this wicked Caitiffe? Esc. Truly Officer, because he hath some offences in him, that thou wouldst discouer, if thou couldst, let him continue in his courses, till thou knowst what they are
Elb. Marry I thanke your worship for it: Thou seest thou wicked varlet now, what's come vpon thee. Thou art to continue now thou Varlet, thou art to continue
Esc. Where were you borne, friend?
Froth. Here in Vienna, Sir
Esc. Are you of fourescore pounds a yeere?
Froth. Yes, and't please you sir
Esc. So: what trade are you of, sir?
Clo. A Tapster, a poore widdowes Tapster
Esc. Your Mistris name?
Clo. Mistris Ouerdon
Esc. Hath she had any more then one husband?
Clo. Nine, sir: Ouerdon by the last
Esc. Nine? come hether to me, Master Froth; Master Froth, I would not haue you acquainted with Tapsters; they will draw you Master Froth, and you wil hang them: get you gon, and let me heare no more of you
Fro. I thanke your worship: for mine owne part, I neuer come into any roome in a Tap-house, but I am drawne in
Esc. Well: no more of it Master Froth: farewell:
Come you hether to me, Mr. Tapster: what's your name
Mr. Tapster?
Clo. Pompey
Esc. What else?
Clo. Bum, Sir
Esc. Troth, and your bum is the greatest thing about you, so that in the beastliest sence, you are Pompey the great; Pompey, you are partly a bawd, Pompey; howsoeuer you colour it in being a Tapster, are you not? come, tell me true, it shall be the better for you
Clo. Truly sir, I am a poore fellow that would liue
Esc. How would you liue Pompey? by being a bawd?
what doe you thinke of the trade Pompey? is it a lawfull
trade?
Clo. If the Law would allow it, sir
Esc. But the Law will not allow it Pompey; nor it
shall not be allowed in Vienna
Clo. Do's your Worship meane to geld and splay all
the youth of the City?
Esc. No, Pompey
Clo. Truely Sir, in my poore opinion they will too't then: if your worship will take order for the drabs and the knaues, you need not to feare the bawds
Esc. There is pretty orders beginning I can tell you:
It is but heading, and hanging
Clo. If you head, and hang all that offend that way but for ten yeare together; you'll be glad to giue out a Commission for more heads: if this law hold in Vienna ten yeare, ile rent the fairest house in it after three pence a Bay: if you liue to see this come to passe, say Pompey told you so
Esc. Thanke you good Pompey; and in requitall of your prophesie, harke you: I aduise you let me not finde you before me againe vpon any complaint whatsoeuer; no, not for dwelling where you doe: if I doe Pompey, I shall beat you to your Tent, and proue a shrewd Cæsar to you: in plaine dealing Pompey, I shall haue you whipt; so for this time, Pompey, fare you well
Clo. I thanke your Worship for your good counsell; but I shall follow it as the flesh and fortune shall better determine. Whip me? no, no, let Carman whip his Iade, The valiant heart's not whipt out of his trade.
Enter.
Esc. Come hether to me, Master Elbow: come hither
Master Constable: how long haue you bin in this place
of Constable?
Elb. Seuen yeere, and a halfe sir
Esc. I thought by the readinesse in the office, you had
continued in it some time: you say seauen yeares together
Elb. And a halfe sir
Esc. Alas, it hath beene great paines to you: they do you wrong to put you so oft vpon't. Are there not men in your Ward sufficient to serue it? Elb. '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 peece of money, and goe through with all
Esc. Looke you bring mee in the names of some sixe
or seuen, the most sufficient of your parish
Elb. To your Worships house sir?
Esc. To my house: fare you well: what's a clocke,
thinke you?
Iust. Eleuen, Sir
Esc. I pray you home to dinner with me
Iust. I humbly thanke you
Esc. It grieues me for the death of Claudio
But there's no remedie:
Iust. Lord Angelo is seuere
Esc. It is but needfull.
Mercy is not it selfe, that oft lookes so,
Pardon is still the nurse of second woe:
But yet, poore Claudio; there is no remedie.
Come Sir.
Exeunt.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Prouost, Seruant.
Ser. Hee's hearing of a Cause; he will come straight,
I'le tell him of you
Pro. 'Pray you doe; Ile know
His pleasure, may be he will relent; alas
He hath but as offended in a dreame,
All Sects, all Ages smack of this vice, and he
To die for't?
Enter Angelo.
Ang. Now, what's the matter Prouost?
Pro. Is it your will Claudio shall die to morrow?
Ang. Did not I tell thee yea? hadst thou not order?
Why do'st thou aske againe?
Pro. Lest I might be too rash:
Vnder your good correction I haue seene
When after execution, Iudgement hath
Repented ore his doome
Ang. Goe to; let that be mine,
Doe you your office, or giue vp your Place,
And you shall well be spar'd
Pro. I craue your Honours pardon:
What shall be done Sir, with the groaning Iuliet?
Shee's very neere her howre
Ang. Dispose of her
To some more fitter place; and that with speed
Ser. Here is the sister of the man condemn'd,
Desires accesse to you
Ang. Hath he a Sister?
Pro. I my good Lord, a very vertuous maid,
And to be shortlie of a Sister-hood,
If not alreadie
Ang. Well: let her be admitted,
See you the Fornicatresse be remou'd,
Let her haue needfull, but not lauish meanes,
There shall be order for't.
Enter Lucio and Isabella.
Pro. 'Saue your Honour
Ang. Stay a little while: y'are welcome: what's your will?
Isab. I am a wofull Sutor to your Honour,
'Please but your Honor heare me
Ang. Well: what's your suite
Isab. There is a vice that most I doe abhorre,
And most desire should meet the blow of Iustice;
For which I would not plead, but that I must,
For which I must not plead, but that I am
At warre, twixt will, and will not
Ang. Well: the matter?
Isab. I haue a brother is condemn'd to die,
I doe beseech you let it be his fault,
And not my brother
Pro. Heauen giue thee mouing graces
Ang. Condemne the fault, and not the actor of it,
Why euery fault's condemnd ere it be done:
Mine were the verie Cipher of a Function
To fine the faults, whose fine stands in record,
And let goe by the Actor
Isab. Oh iust, but seuere Law:
I had a brother then; heauen keepe your honour
Luc. Giue't not ore so: to him againe, entreat him,
Kneele downe before him, hang vpon his gowne,
You are too cold: if you should need a pin,
You could not with more tame a tongue desire it:
To him, I say
Isab. Must he needs die?
Ang. Maiden, no remedie
Isab. Yes: I doe thinke that you might pardon him,
And neither heauen, nor man grieue at the mercy
Ang. I will not doe't
Isab. But can you if you would?
Ang. Looke what I will not, that I cannot doe
Isab. But might you doe't & do the world no wrong
If so your heart were touch'd with that remorse,
As mine is to him?
Ang. Hee's sentenc'd, tis too late
Luc. You are too cold
Isab. Too late? why no: I that doe speak a word
May call it againe: well, beleeue this
No ceremony that to great ones longs,
Not the Kings Crowne; nor the deputed sword,
The Marshalls Truncheon, nor the Iudges Robe
Become them with one halfe so good a grace
As mercie does: If he had bin as you, and you as he,
You would haue slipt like him, but he like you
Would not haue beene so sterne
Ang. Pray you be gone
Isab. I would to heauen I had your potencie,
And you were Isabell: should it then be thus?
No: I would tell what 'twere to be a Iudge,
And what a prisoner
Luc. I, touch him: there's the veine
Ang. Your Brother is a forfeit of the Law,
And you but waste your words
Isab. Alas, alas:
Why all the soules that were, were forfeit once,
And he that might the vantage best haue tooke,
Found out the remedie: how would you be,
If he, which is the top of Iudgement, should
But iudge you, as you are? Oh, thinke on that,
And mercie then will breathe within your lips
Like man new made
Ang. Be you content, (faire Maid)
It is the Law, not I, condemne your brother,
Were he my kinsman, brother, or my sonne,
It should be thus with him: he must die to morrow
Isab. To morrow? oh, that's sodaine,
Spare him, spare him:
Hee's not prepar'd for death; euen for our kitchins
We kill the fowle of season: shall we serue heauen
With lesse respect then we doe minister
To our grosse-selues? good, good my Lord, bethink you;
Who is it that hath di'd for this offence?
There's many haue committed it
Luc. I, well said
Ang. The Law hath not bin dead, thogh it hath slept
Those many had not dar'd to doe that euill
If the first, that did th' Edict infringe
Had answer'd for his deed. Now 'tis awake,
Takes note of what is done, and like a Prophet
Lookes in a glasse that shewes what future euils
Either now, or by remissenesse, new conceiu'd,
And so in progresse to be hatch'd, and borne,
Are now to haue no successiue degrees,
But here they liue to end
Isab. Yet shew some pittie
Ang. I shew it most of all, when I show Iustice;
For then I pittie those I doe not know,
Which a dismis'd offence, would after gaule
And doe him right, that answering one foule wrong
Liues not to act another. Be satisfied;
Your Brother dies to morrow; be content
Isab. So you must be y first that giues this sentence,
And hee, that suffers: Oh, it is excellent
To haue a Giants strength: but it is tyrannous
To vse it like a Giant
Luc. That's well said
Isab. Could great men thunder
As Ioue himselfe do's, Ioue would neuer be quiet,
For euery pelting petty Officer
Would vse his heauen for thunder;
Nothing but thunder: Mercifull heauen,
Thou rather with thy sharpe and sulpherous bolt
Splits the vn-wedgable and gnarled Oke,
Then the soft Mertill: But man, proud man,
Drest in a little briefe authoritie,
Most ignorant of what he's most assur'd,
(His glassie Essence) like an angry Ape
Plaies such phantastique tricks before high heauen,
As makes the Angels weepe: who with our spleenes,
Would all themselues laugh mortall
Luc. Oh, to him, to him wench: he will relent,
Hee's comming: I perceiue't
Pro. Pray heauen she win him
Isab. We cannot weigh our brother with our selfe,
Great men may iest with Saints: tis wit in them,
But in the lesse fowle prophanation
Luc. Thou'rt i'th right (Girle) more o'that
Isab. That in the Captaine's but a chollericke word,
Which in the Souldier is flat blasphemie
Luc. Art auis'd o'that? more on't
Ang. Why doe you put these sayings vpon me?
Isab. Because Authoritie, though it erre like others,
Hath yet a kinde of medicine in it selfe
That skins the vice o'th top; goe to your bosome,
Knock there, and aske your heart what it doth know
That's like my brothers fault: if it confesse
A naturall guiltinesse, such as is his,
Let it not sound a thought vpon your tongue
Against my brothers life
Ang. Shee speakes, and 'tis such sence
That my Sence breeds with it; fare you well
Isab. Gentle my Lord, turne backe
Ang. I will bethinke me: come againe to morrow
Isa. Hark, how Ile bribe you: good my Lord turn back
Ang. How? bribe me?
Is. I, with such gifts that heauen shall share with you
Luc. You had mar'd all else
Isab. Not with fond Sickles of the tested-gold,
Or Stones, whose rate are either rich, or poore
As fancie values them: but with true prayers,
That shall be vp at heauen, and enter there
Ere Sunne rise: prayers from preserued soules,
From fasting Maides, whose mindes are dedicate
To nothing temporall
Ang. Well: come to me to morrow
Luc. Goe to: 'tis well; away
Isab. Heauen keepe your honour safe
Ang. Amen.
For I am that way going to temptation,
Where prayers crosse
Isab. At what hower to morrow,
Shall I attend your Lordship?
Ang. At any time 'fore-noone
Isab. 'Saue your Honour
Ang. From thee: euen from thy vertue.
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 Sunne,
Doe as the Carrion do's, not as the flowre,
Corrupt with vertuous season: Can it be,
That Modesty may more betray our Sence
Then womans lightnesse? hauing waste ground enough,
Shall we desire to raze the Sanctuary
And pitch our euils there? oh fie, fie, fie:
What dost thou? or what art thou Angelo?
Dost thou desire her fowly, for those things
That make her good? oh, let her brother liue:
Theeues for their robbery haue authority,
When Iudges steale themselues: what, doe I loue her,
That I desire to heare her speake againe?
And feast vpon her eyes? what is't I dreame on?
Oh cunning enemy, that to catch a Saint,
With Saints dost bait thy hooke: most dangerous
Is that temptation, that doth goad vs on
To sinne, in louing vertue: neuer could the Strumpet
With all her double vigor, Art, and Nature
Once stir my temper: but this vertuous Maid
Subdues me quite: Euer till now
When men were fond, I smild, and wondred how.
Enter.
Scena Tertia.
Enter Duke and Prouost.
Duke. Haile to you, Prouost, so I thinke you are
Pro. I am the Prouost: whats your will, good Frier?
Duke. Bound by my charity, and my blest order,
I come to visite the afflicted spirits
Here in the prison: doe 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
Pro. I would do more then that, if more were needfull
Enter Iuliet.
Looke here comes one: a Gentlewoman of mine,
Who falling in the flawes of her owne youth,
Hath blisterd her report: She is with childe,
And he that got it, sentenc'd: a yong man,
More fit to doe another such offence,
Then dye for this
Duk. When must he dye?
Pro. As I do thinke to morrow.
I haue prouided for you, stay a while
And you shall be conducted
Duk. Repent you (faire one) of the sin you carry?
Iul. I doe; and beare the shame most patiently
Du. Ile teach you how you shal araign your conscie[n]ce
And try your penitence, if it be sound,
Or hollowly put on
Iul. Ile gladly learne
Duk. Loue you the man that wrong'd you?
Iul. Yes, as I loue the woman that wrong'd him
Duk. So then it seemes your most offence full act
Was mutually committed
Iul. Mutually
Duk. Then was your sin of heauier kinde then his
Iul. I doe confesse it, and repent it (Father.)
Duk. 'Tis meet so (daughter) but least you do repent
As that the sin hath brought you to this shame,
Which sorrow is alwaies toward our selues, not heauen,
Showing we would not spare heauen, as we loue it,
But as we stand in feare
Iul. I doe repent me, as it is an euill,
And take the shame with ioy
Duke. There rest:
Your partner (as I heare) must die to morrow,
And I am going with instruction to him:
Grace goe with you, Benedicite.
Enter.
Iul. Must die to morrow? oh iniurious Loue
That respits me a life, whose very comfort
Is still a dying horror
Pro. 'Tis pitty of him.
Exeunt.
Scena Quarta.
Enter Angelo.
An. When I would pray, & think, I thinke, and pray
To seuerall subiects: heauen hath my empty words,
Whilst my Inuention, hearing not my Tongue,
Anchors on Isabell: heauen in my mouth,
As if I did but onely chew his name,
And in my heart the strong and swelling euill
Of my conception: the state whereon I studied
Is like a good thing, being often read
Growne feard, and tedious: yea, my Grauitie
Wherein (let no man heare me) I take pride,
Could I, with boote, change for an idle plume
Which the ayre beats for vaine: oh place, oh forme,
How often dost thou with thy case, thy habit
Wrench awe from fooles, and tye the wiser soules
To thy false seeming? Blood, thou art blood,
Let's write good Angell on the Deuills horne
'Tis not the Deuills Crest: how now? who's there?
Enter Seruant.
Ser. One Isabell, a Sister, desires accesse to you
Ang. Teach her the way: oh, heauens
Why doe's my bloud thus muster to my heart,
Making both it vnable for it selfe,
And dispossessing all my other parts
Of necessary fitnesse?
So play the foolish throngs with one that swounds,
Come all to help him, and so stop the ayre
By which hee should reuiue: and euen so
The generall subiect to a wel-wisht King
Quit their owne part, and in obsequious fondnesse
Crowd to his presence, where their vn-taught loue
Must needs appear offence: how now faire Maid.
Enter Isabella.
Isab. I am come to know your pleasure
An. That you might know it, wold much better please me,
Then to demand what 'tis: your Brother cannot liue
Isab. Euen so: heauen keepe your Honor
Ang. Yet may he liue a while: and it may be
As long as you, or I: yet he must die
Isab. Vnder your Sentence?
Ang. Yea
Isab. When, I beseech you: that in his Reprieue
(Longer, or shorter) he may be so fitted
That his soule sicken not
Ang. Ha? fie, these filthy vices: It were as good
To pardon him, that hath from nature stolne
A man already made, as to remit
Their sawcie sweetnes, that do coyne heauens Image
In stamps that are forbid: 'tis all as easie,
Falsely to take away a life true made,
As to put mettle in restrained meanes
To make a false one
Isab. 'Tis set downe so in heauen, but not in earth
Ang. Say you so: then I shall poze you quickly.
Which had you rather, that the most iust Law
Now tooke your brothers life, and to redeeme him
Giue vp your body to such sweet vncleannesse
As she that he hath staind?
Isab. Sir, beleeue this.
I had rather giue my body, then my soule
Ang. I talke not of your soule: our compel'd sins
Stand more for number, then for accompt
Isab. How say you?
Ang. Nay Ile not warrant that: for I can speake
Against the thing I say: Answere to this,
I (now the voyce of the recorded Law)
Pronounce a sentence on your Brothers life,
Might there not be a charitie in sinne,
To saue this Brothers life?
Isab. Please you to doo't,
Ile take it as a perill to my soule,
It is no sinne at all, but charitie
Ang. Pleas'd you to doo't, at perill of your soule
Were equall poize of sinne, and charitie
Isab. That I do beg his life, if it be sinne
Heauen let me beare it: you granting of my suit,
If that be sin, Ile make it my Morne-praier,
To haue it added to the faults of mine,
And nothing of your answere
Ang. Nay, but heare me,
Your sence pursues not mine: either you are ignorant,
Or seeme so crafty; and that's not good
Isab. Let be ignorant, and in nothing good,
But graciously to know I am no better
Ang. Thus wisdome wishes to appeare most bright,
When it doth taxe it selfe: As these blacke Masques
Proclaime an en-shield beauty ten times louder
Then beauty could displaied: But marke me,
To be receiued plaine, Ile speake more grosse:
Your Brother is to dye
Isab. So
Ang. And his offence is so, as it appeares,
Accountant to the Law, vpon that paine
Isab. True
Ang. Admit no other way to saue his life
(As I subscribe not that, nor any other,
But in the losse of question) that you, his Sister,
Finding your selfe desir'd of such a person,
Whose creadit with the Iudge, or owne great place,
Could fetch your Brother from the Manacles
Of the all-building-Law: and that there were
No earthly meane to saue him, but that either
You must lay downe the treasures of your body,
To this supposed, or else to let him suffer:
What would you doe?
Isab. As much for my poore Brother, as my selfe;
That is: were I vnder the tearmes of death,
Th' impression of keene whips, I'ld weare as Rubies,
And strip my selfe to death, as to a bed,
That longing haue bin sicke for, ere I'ld yeeld
My body vp to shame
Ang. Then must your brother die
Isa. And 'twer the cheaper way:
Better it were a brother dide at once,
Then that a sister, by redeeming him
Should die for euer
Ang. Were not you then as cruell as the Sentence,
That you haue slander'd so?
Isa. Ignomie in ransome, and free pardon
Are of two houses: lawfull mercie,
Is nothing kin to fowle redemption
Ang. You seem'd of late to make the Law a tirant,
And rather prou'd the sliding of your brother
A merriment, then a vice
Isa. Oh pardon me my Lord, it oft fals out
To haue, what we would haue,
We speake not what we meane;
I something do excuse the thing I hate,
For his aduantage that I dearely loue
Ang. We are all fraile
Isa. Else let my brother die,
If not a fedarie but onely he
Owe, and succeed thy weaknesse
Ang. Nay, women are fraile too
Isa. I, as the glasses where they view themselues,
Which are as easie broke as they make formes:
Women? Helpe heauen; men their creation marre
In profiting by them: Nay, call vs ten times fraile,
For we are soft, as our complexions are,
And credulous to false prints
Ang. I thinke it well:
And from this testimonie of your owne sex
(Since I suppose we are made to be no stronger
Then 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'r none.
If you be one (as you are well exprest
By all externall warrants) shew it now,
By putting on the destin'd Liuerie
Isa. I haue no tongue but one; gentle my Lord,
Let me entreate you speake the former language
Ang. Plainlie conceiue I loue you
Isa. My brother did loue Iuliet,
And you tell me that he shall die for't
Ang. He shall not Isabell if you giue me loue
Isa. I know your vertue hath a licence in't,
Which seemes a little fouler then it is,
To plucke on others
Ang. Beleeue me on mine Honor,
My words expresse my purpose
Isa. Ha? Little honor, to be much beleeu'd,
And most pernitious purpose: Seeming, seeming.
I will proclaime thee Angelo, looke for't.
Signe me a present pardon for my brother,
Or with an out-stretcht throate Ile tell the world aloud
What man thou art
Ang. Who will beleeue thee Isabell?
My vnsoild name, th' austeerenesse of my life,
My vouch against you, and my place i'th State,
Will so your accusation ouer-weigh,
That you shall stifle in your owne report,
And smell of calumnie. I haue begun,
And now I giue my sensuall race, the reine,
Fit thy consent to my sharpe appetite,
Lay by all nicetie, and prolixious blushes
That banish what they sue for: Redeeme thy brother,
By yeelding vp thy bodie to my will,
Or else he must not onelie die the death,
But thy vnkindnesse shall his death draw out
To lingring sufferance: Answer me to morrow,
Or by the affection that now guides me most,
Ile proue a Tirant to him. As for you,
Say what you can; my false, ore-weighs your true.
Exit
Isa. To whom should I complaine? Did I tell this,
Who would beleeue me? O perilous mouthes
That beare in them, one and the selfesame tongue,
Either of condemnation, or approofe,
Bidding the Law make curtsie to their will,
Hooking both right and wrong to th' appetite,
To follow as it drawes. Ile to my brother,
Though he hath falne by prompture of the blood,
Yet hath he in him such a minde of Honor,
That had he twentie heads to tender downe
On twentie bloodie blockes, hee'ld yeeld them vp,
Before his sister should her bodie stoope
To such abhord pollution.
Then Isabell liue chaste, and brother die;
``More then our Brother, is our Chastitie.
Ile tell him yet of Angelo's request,
And fit his minde to death, for his soules rest.
Enter.
Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.
Enter Duke, Claudio, and Prouost.
Du. So then you hope of pardon from Lord Angelo?
Cla. The miserable haue no other medicine
But onely hope: I'haue hope to liue, and am prepar'd to
die
Duke. Be absolute for death: either death or life
Shall thereby be the sweeter. Reason thus with life:
If I do loose thee, I do loose a thing
That none but fooles would keepe: a breath thou art,
Seruile to all the skyie-influences
That dost this habitation where thou keepst
Hourely afflict: Meerely, thou art deaths foole,
For him thou labourst by thy flight to shun,
And yet runst toward him still. Thou art not noble,
For all th' accommodations that thou bearst,
Are nurst by basenesse: Thou'rt by no meanes valiant,
For thou dost feare the soft and tender forke
Of a poore worme: thy best of rest is sleepe,
And that thou oft prouoakst, yet grosselie fearst
Thy death, which is no more. Thou art not thy selfe,
For thou exists on manie a thousand graines
That issue out of dust. Happie thou art not,
For what thou hast not, still thou striu'st to get,
And what thou hast forgetst. Thou art not certaine,
For thy complexion shifts to strange effects,
After the Moone: If thou art rich, thou'rt poore,
For like an Asse, whose backe with Ingots bowes;
Thou bearst thy heauie riches but a iournie,
And death vnloads thee; Friend hast thou none.
For thine owne bowels which do call thee, fire
The meere effusion of thy proper loines
Do curse the Gowt, Sapego, and the Rheume
For ending thee no sooner. Thou hast nor youth, nor age
But as it were an after-dinners sleepe
Dreaming on both, for all thy blessed youth
Becomes as aged, and doth begge the almes
Of palsied-Eld: and when thou art old, and rich
Thou hast neither heate, affection, limbe, nor beautie
To make thy riches pleasant: what's yet in this
That beares the name of life? Yet in this life
Lie hid moe thousand deaths; yet death we feare
That makes these oddes, all euen
Cla. I humblie thanke you.
To sue to liue, I finde I seeke to die,
And seeking death, finde life: Let it come on.
Enter Isabella.
Isab. What hoa? Peace heere; Grace, and good companie
Pro. Who's there? Come in, the wish deserues a welcome
Duke. Deere sir, ere long Ile visit you againe
Cla. Most holie Sir, I thanke you
Isa. My businesse is a word or two with Claudio
Pro. And verie welcom: looke Signior, here's your sister
Duke. Prouost, a word with you
Pro. As manie as you please
Duke. Bring them to heare me speak, where I may be
conceal'd
Cla. Now sister, what's the comfort?
Isa. Why,
As all comforts are: most good, most good indeede,
Lord Angelo hauing affaires to heauen
Intends you for his swift Ambassador,
Where you shall be an euerlasting Leiger;
Therefore your best appointment make with speed,
To Morrow you set on
Clau. Is there no remedie?
Isa. None, but such remedie, as to saue a head
To cleaue a heart in twaine:
Clau. But is there anie?
Isa. Yes brother, you may liue;
There is a diuellish mercie in the Iudge,
If you'l implore it, that will free your life,
But fetter you till death
Cla. Perpetuall durance?
Isa. I iust, perpetuall durance, a restraint
Through all the worlds vastiditie you had
To a determin'd scope
Clau. But in what nature?
Isa. In such a one, as you consenting too't,
Would barke your honor from that trunke you beare,
And leaue you naked
Clau. Let me know the point
Isa. Oh, I do feare thee Claudio, and I quake,
Least thou a feauorous life shouldst entertaine,
And six or seuen winters more respect
Then a perpetuall Honor. Dar'st thou die?
The sence of death is most in apprehension,
And the poore Beetle that we treade vpon
In corporall sufferance, finds a pang as great,
As when a Giant dies
Cla. Why giue you me this shame?
Thinke you I can a resolution fetch
From flowrie tendernesse? If I must die,
I will encounter darknesse as a bride,
And hugge it in mine armes
Isa. There spake my brother: there my fathers graue
Did vtter forth a voice. Yes, thou must die:
Thou art too noble, to conserue a life
In base appliances. This outward sainted Deputie,
Whose setled visage, and deliberate word
Nips youth i'th head, and follies doth emmew
As Falcon doth the Fowle, is yet a diuell:
His filth within being cast, he would appeare
A pond, as deepe as hell
Cla. The prenzie, Angelo?
Isa. Oh 'tis the cunning Liuerie of hell,
The damnest bodie to inuest, and couer
In prenzie gardes; dost thou thinke Claudio,
If I would yeeld him my virginitie
Thou might'st be freed?
Cla. Oh heauens, it cannot be
Isa. Yes, he would giu't thee; from this rank offence
So to offend him still. This night's the time
That I should do what I abhorre to name,
Or else thou diest to morrow
Clau. Thou shalt not do't
Isa. O, were it but my life,
I'de throw it downe for your deliuerance
As frankely as a pin
Clau. Thankes deere Isabell
Isa. Be readie Claudio, for your death to morrow
Clau. Yes. Has he affections in him,
That thus can make him bite the Law by th' nose,
When he would force it? Sure it is no sinne,
Or of the deadly seuen it is the least
Isa. Which is the least?
Cla. If it were damnable, he being so wise,
Why would he for the momentarie tricke
Be perdurablie fin'de? Oh Isabell
Isa. What saies my brother?
Cla. Death is a fearefull thing
Isa. And shamed life, a hatefull
Cla. I, but to die, and go we know not where,
To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot,
This sensible warme motion, to become
A kneaded clod; And the delighted spirit
To bath in fierie floods, or to recide
In thrilling Region of thicke-ribbed Ice,
To be imprison'd in the viewlesse windes
And blowne with restlesse violence round about
The pendant world: or to be worse then worst
Of those, that lawlesse and incertaine thought,
Imagine howling, 'tis too horrible.
The weariest, and most loathed worldly life
That Age, Ache, periury, and imprisonment
Can lay on nature, is a Paradise
To what we feare of death
Isa. Alas, alas
Cla. Sweet Sister, let me liue.
What sinne you do, to saue a brothers life,
Nature dispenses with the deede so farre,
That it becomes a vertue
Isa. Oh you beast,
Oh faithlesse Coward, oh dishonest wretch,
Wilt thou be made a man, out of my vice?
Is't not a kinde of Incest, to take life
From thine owne sisters shame? What should I thinke,
Heauen shield my Mother plaid my Father faire:
For such a warped slip of wildernesse
Nere issu'd from his blood. Take my defiance,
Die, perish: Might but my bending downe
Repreeue thee from thy fate, it should proceede.
Ile pray a thousand praiers for thy death,
No word to saue thee
Cla. Nay heare me Isabell
Isa. Oh fie, fie, fie:
Thy sinn's not accidentall, but a Trade;
Mercy to thee would proue it selfe a Bawd,
'Tis best that thou diest quickly
Cla. Oh heare me Isabella
Duk. Vouchsafe a word, yong sister, but one word
Isa. What is your Will
Duk. Might you dispense with your leysure, I would by and by haue some speech with you: the satisfaction I would require, is likewise your owne benefit
Isa. I haue no superfluous leysure, my stay must be stolen out of other affaires: but I will attend you a while
Duke. Son, I haue ouer-heard what hath past between you & your sister. Angelo had neuer the purpose to corrupt her; onely he hath made an assay of her vertue, to practise his iudgement with the disposition of natures. She (hauing the truth of honour in her) hath made him that gracious deniall, which he is most glad to receiue: I am Confessor to Angelo, and I know this to be true, therfore prepare your selfe to death: do not satisfie your resolution with hopes that are fallible, to morrow you must die, goe to your knees, and make ready
Cla. Let me ask my sister pardon, I am so out of loue
with life, that I will sue to be rid of it
Duke. Hold you there: farewell: Prouost, a word
with you
Pro. What's your will (father?)
Duk. That now you are come, you wil be gone: leaue
me a while with the Maid, my minde promises with my
habit, no losse shall touch her by my company
Pro. In good time.
Enter.
Duk. The hand that hath made you faire, hath made you good: the goodnes that is cheape in beauty, makes beauty briefe in goodnes; but grace being the soule of your complexion, shall keepe the body of it euer faire: the assault that Angelo hath made to you, Fortune hath conuaid to my vnderstanding; and but that frailty hath examples for his falling, I should wonder at Angelo: how will you doe to content this Substitute, and to saue your Brother? Isab. I am now going to resolue him: I had rather my brother die by the Law, then my sonne should be vnlawfullie borne. But (oh) how much is the good Duke deceiu'd in Angelo: if euer he returne, and I can speake to him, I will open my lips in vaine, or discouer his gouernment
Duke. That shall not be much amisse: yet, as the matter now stands, he will auoid your accusation: he made triall of you onelie. Therefore fasten your eare on my aduisings, to the loue I haue in doing good; a remedie presents it selfe. I doe make my selfe beleeue that you may most vprighteously do a poor wronged Lady a merited benefit; redeem your brother from the angry Law; doe no staine to your owne gracious person, and much please the absent Duke, if peraduenture he shall euer returne to haue hearing of this businesse
Isab. Let me heare you speake farther; I haue spirit to do any thing that appeares not fowle in the truth of my spirit
Duke. Vertue is bold, and goodnes neuer fearefull: Haue you not heard speake of Mariana the sister of Fredericke the great Souldier, who miscarried at Sea? Isa. I haue heard of the Lady, and good words went with her name
Duke. Shee should this Angelo haue married: was affianced to her oath, and the nuptiall appointed: between which time of the contract, and limit of the solemnitie, her brother Fredericke was wrackt at Sea, hauing in that perished vessell, the dowry of his sister: but marke how heauily this befell to the poore Gentlewoman, there she lost a noble and renowned brother, in his loue toward her, euer most kinde and naturall: with him the portion and sinew of her fortune, her marriage dowry: with both, her combynate-husband, this well-seeming Angelo
Isab. Can this be so? did Angelo so leaue her? Duke. Left her in her teares, & dried not one of them with his comfort: swallowed his vowes whole, pretending in her, discoueries of dishonor: in few, bestow'd her on her owne lamentation, which she yet weares for his sake: and he, a marble to her teares, is washed with them, but relents not
Isab. What a merit were it in death to take this poore maid from the world? what corruption in this life, that it will let this man liue? But how out of this can shee auaile? Duke. It is a rupture that you may easily heale: and the cure of it not onely saues your brother, but keepes you from dishonor in doing it
Isab. Shew me how (good Father.) Duk. This fore-named Maid hath yet in her the continuance of her first affection: his vniust vnkindenesse (that in all reason should haue quenched her loue) hath (like an impediment in the Current) made it more violent and vnruly: Goe you to Angelo, answere his requiring with a plausible obedience, agree with his demands to the point: onely referre your selfe to this aduantage; first, that your stay with him may not be long: that the time may haue all shadow, and silence in it: and the place answere to conuenience: this being granted in course, and now followes all: wee shall aduise this wronged maid to steed vp your appointment, goe in your place: if the encounter acknowledge it selfe heereafter, it may compell him to her recompence; and heere, by this is your brother saued, your honor vntainted, the poore Mariana aduantaged, and the corrupt Deputy scaled. The Maid will I frame, and make fit for his attempt: if you thinke well to carry this as you may, the doublenes of the benefit defends the deceit from reproofe. What thinke you of it? Isab. The image of it giues me content already, and I trust it will grow to a most prosperous perfection
Duk. It lies much in your holding vp: haste you speedily to Angelo, if for this night he intreat you to his bed, giue him promise of satisfaction: I will presently to S[aint]. Lukes, there at the moated-Grange recides this deiected Mariana; at that place call vpon me, and dispatch with Angelo, that it may be quickly
Isab. I thank you for this comfort: fare you well good father.
Enter.
Enter Elbow, Clowne, Officers.
Elb. Nay, if there be no remedy for it, but that you will needes buy and sell men and women like beasts, we shall haue all the world drinke browne & white bastard
Duk. Oh heauens, what stuffe is heere
Clow. Twas neuer merry world since of two vsuries the merriest was put downe, and the worser allow'd by order of Law; a fur'd gowne to keepe him warme; and furd with Foxe and Lamb-skins too, to signifie, that craft being richer then Innocency, stands for the facing
Elb. Come your way sir: 'blesse you good Father
Frier
Duk. And you good Brother Father; what offence hath this man made you, Sir? Elb. Marry Sir, he hath offended the Law; and Sir, we take him to be a Theefe too Sir: for wee haue found vpon him Sir, a strange Pick-lock, which we haue sent to the Deputie
Duke. Fie, sirrah, a Bawd, a wicked bawd,
The euill that thou causest to be done,
That is thy meanes to liue. Do thou but thinke
What 'tis to cram a maw, or cloath a backe
From such a filthie vice: say to thy selfe,
From their abhominable and beastly touches
I drinke, I eate away my selfe, and liue:
Canst thou beleeue thy liuing is a life,
So stinkingly depending? Go mend, go mend
Clo. Indeed, it do's stinke in some sort, Sir:
But yet Sir I would proue
Duke. Nay, if the diuell haue giuen thee proofs for sin
Thou wilt proue his. Take him to prison Officer:
Correction, and Instruction must both worke
Ere this rude beast will profit
Elb. He must before the Deputy Sir, he ha's giuen him warning: the Deputy cannot abide a Whore-master: if he be a Whore-monger, and comes before him, he were as good go a mile on his errand
Duke. That we were all, as some would seeme to bee
From our faults, as faults from seeming free.
Enter Lucio.
Elb. His necke will come to your wast, a Cord sir
Clo. I spy comfort, I cry baile: Here's a Gentleman, and a friend of mine
Luc. How now noble Pompey? What, at the wheels of Cæsar? Art thou led in triumph? What is there none of Pigmalions Images newly made woman to bee had now, for putting the hand in the pocket, and extracting clutch'd? What reply? Ha? What saist thou to this Tune, Matter, and Method? Is't not drown'd i'th last raine? Ha? What saist thou Trot? Is the world as it was Man? Which is the way? Is it sad, and few words? Or how? The tricke of it? Duke. Still thus, and thus: still worse? Luc. How doth my deere Morsell, thy Mistris? Procures she still? Ha? Clo. Troth sir, shee hath eaten vp all her beefe, and she is her selfe in the tub
Luc. Why 'tis good: It is the right of it: it must be so. Euer your fresh Whore, and your pouder'd Baud, an vnshun'd consequence, it must be so. Art going to prison Pompey? Clo. Yes faith sir
Luc. Why 'tis not amisse Pompey: farewell: goe say
I sent thee thether: for debt Pompey? Or how?
Elb. For being a baud, for being a baud
Luc. Well, then imprison him: If imprisonment be the due of a baud, why 'tis his right. Baud is he doubtlesse, and of antiquity too: Baud borne. Farwell good Pompey: Commend me to the prison Pompey, you will turne good husband now Pompey, you will keepe the house
Clo. I hope Sir, your good Worship wil be my baile?
Luc. No indeed wil I not Pompey, it is not the wear:
I will pray (Pompey) to encrease your bondage if you
take it not patiently: Why, your mettle is the more:
Adieu trustie Pompey.
Blesse you Friar
Duke. And you
Luc. Do's Bridget paint still, Pompey? Ha?
Elb. Come your waies sir, come
Clo. You will not baile me then Sir?
Luc. Then Pompey, nor now: what newes abroad Frier?
What newes?
Elb. Come your waies sir, come
Luc. Goe to kennell (Pompey) goe:
What newes Frier of the Duke?
Duke. I know none: can you tell me of any?
Luc. Some say he is with the Emperor of Russia: other
some, he is in Rome: but where is he thinke you?
Duke. I know not where: but wheresoeuer, I wish
him well
Luc. It was a mad fantasticall tricke of him to steale from the State, and vsurpe the beggerie hee was neuer borne to: Lord Angelo Dukes it well in his absence: he puts transgression too't
Duke. He do's well in't
Luc. A little more lenitie to Lecherie would doe no harme in him: Something too crabbed that way, Frier
Duk. It is too general a vice, and seueritie must cure it
Luc. Yes in good sooth, the vice is of a great kindred; it is well allied, but it is impossible to extirpe it quite, Frier, till eating and drinking be put downe. They say this Angelo was not made by Man and Woman, after this downe-right way of Creation: is it true, thinke you? Duke. How should he be made then? Luc. Some report, a Sea-maid spawn'd him. Some, that he was begot betweene two Stock-fishes. But it is certaine, that when he makes water, his Vrine is congeal'd ice, that I know to bee true: and he is a motion generatiue, that's infallible
Duke. You are pleasant sir, and speake apace
Luc. Why, what a ruthlesse thing is this in him, for the rebellion of a Cod-peece, to take away the life of a man? Would the Duke that is absent haue done this? Ere he would haue hang'd a man for the getting a hundred Bastards, he would haue paide for the Nursing a thousand. He had some feeling of the sport, hee knew the seruice, and that instructed him to mercie
Duke. I neuer heard the absent Duke much detected for Women, he was not enclin'd that way
Luc. Oh Sir, you are deceiu'd
Duke. 'Tis not possible
Luc. Who, not the Duke? Yes, your beggar of fifty: and his vse was, to put a ducket in her Clack-dish; the Duke had Crochets in him. Hee would be drunke too, that let me informe you
Duke. You do him wrong, surely
Luc. Sir, I was an inward of his: a shie fellow was the Duke, and I beleeue I know the cause of his withdrawing
Duke. What (I prethee) might be the cause? Luc. No, pardon: 'Tis a secret must bee lockt within the teeth and the lippes: but this I can let you vnderstand, the greater file of the subiect held the Duke to be wise
Duke. Wise? Why no question but he was
Luc. A very superficiall, ignorant, vnweighing fellow Duke. Either this is Enuie in you, Folly, or mistaking: The very streame of his life, and the businesse he hath helmed, must vppon a warranted neede, giue him a better proclamation. Let him be but testimonied in his owne bringings forth, and hee shall appeare to the enuious, a Scholler, a Statesman, and a Soldier: therefore you speake vnskilfully: or, if your knowledge bee more, it is much darkned in your malice
Luc. Sir, I know him, and I loue him
Duke. Loue talkes with better knowledge, & knowledge with deare loue
Luc. Come Sir, I know what I know
Duke. I can hardly beleeue that, since you know not what you speake. But if euer the Duke returne (as our praiers are he may) let mee desire you to make your answer before him: if it bee honest you haue spoke, you haue courage to maintaine it; I am bound to call vppon you, and I pray you your name? Luc. Sir my name is Lucio, wel known to the Duke
Duke. He shall know you better Sir, if I may liue to
report you
Luc. I feare you not
Duke. O, you hope the Duke will returne no more: or you imagine me to vnhurtfull an opposite: but indeed I can doe you little harme: You'll for-sweare this againe? Luc. Ile be hang'd first: Thou art deceiu'd in mee Friar. But no more of this: Canst thou tell if Claudio die to morrow, or no? Duke. Why should he die Sir? Luc. Why? For filling a bottle with a Tunne-dish: I would the Duke we talke of were return'd againe: this vngenitur'd Agent will vn-people the Prouince with Continencie. Sparrowes must not build in his house-eeues, because they are lecherous: The Duke yet would haue darke deeds darkelie answered, hee would neuer bring them to light: would hee were return'd. Marrie this Claudio is condemned for vntrussing. Farwell good Friar, I prethee pray for me: The Duke (I say to thee againe) would eate Mutton on Fridaies. He's now past it, yet (and I say to thee) hee would mouth with a beggar, though she smelt browne-bread and Garlicke: say that I said so: Farewell.
Enter.
Duke. No might, nor greatnesse in mortality
Can censure scape: Back-wounding calumnie
The whitest vertue strikes. What King so strong,
Can tie the gall vp in the slanderous tong?
But who comes heere?
Enter Escalus, Prouost, and Bawd.
Esc. Go, away with her to prison
Bawd. Good my Lord be good to mee, your Honor is accounted a mercifull man: good my Lord
Esc. Double, and trebble admonition, and still forfeite in the same kinde? This would make mercy sweare and play the Tirant
Pro. A Bawd of eleuen yeares continuance, may it please your Honor
Bawd. My Lord, this is one Lucio's information against me, Mistris Kate Keepe-downe was with childe by him in the Dukes time, he promis'd her marriage: his Childe is a yeere and a quarter olde come Philip and Iacob: I haue kept it my selfe; and see how hee goes about to abuse me
Esc. That fellow is a fellow of much License: Let him be call'd before vs, Away with her to prison: Goe too, no more words. Prouost, my Brother Angelo will not be alter'd, Claudio must die to morrow: Let him be furnish'd with Diuines, and haue all charitable preparation. If my brother wrought by my pitie, it should not be so with him
Pro. So please you, this Friar hath beene with him, and aduis'd him for th' entertainment of death
Esc. Good' euen, good Father
Duke. Blisse, and goodnesse on you
Esc. Of whence are you?
Duke. Not of this Countrie, though my chance is now
To vse it for my time: I am a brother
Of gracious Order, late come from the Sea,
In speciall businesse from his Holinesse
Esc. What newes abroad i'th World? Duke. None, but that there is so great a Feauor on goodnesse, that the dissolution of it must cure it. Noueltie is onely in request, and as it is as dangerous to be aged in any kinde of course, as it is vertuous to be constant in any vndertaking. There is scarse truth enough aliue to make Societies secure, but Securitie enough to make Fellowships accurst: Much vpon this riddle runs the wisedome of the world: This newes is old enough, yet it is euerie daies newes. I pray you Sir, of what disposition was the Duke? Esc. One, that aboue all other strifes, Contended especially to know himselfe
Duke. What pleasure was he giuen to? Esc. Rather reioycing to see another merry, then merrie at anie thing which profest to make him reioice. A Gentleman of all temperance. But leaue wee him to his euents, with a praier they may proue prosperous, & let me desire to know, how you finde Claudio prepar'd? I am made to vnderstand, that you haue lent him visitation
Duke. He professes to haue receiued no sinister measure from his Iudge, but most willingly humbles himselfe to the determination of Iustice: yet had he framed to himselfe (by the instruction of his frailty) manie deceyuing promises of life, which I (by my good leisure) haue discredited to him, and now is he resolu'd to die
Esc. You haue paid the heauens your Function, and the prisoner the verie debt of your Calling. I haue labour'd for the poore Gentleman, to the extremest shore of my modestie, but my brother-Iustice haue I found so seuere, that he hath forc'd me to tell him, hee is indeede Iustice
Duke. If his owne life,
Answere the straitnesse of his proceeding,
It shall become him well: wherein if he chance to faile
he hath sentenc'd himselfe
Esc I am going to visit the prisoner, Fare you well
Duke. Peace be with you.
He who the sword of Heauen will beare,
Should be as holy, as seueare:
Patterne in himselfe to know,
Grace to stand, and Vertue go:
More, nor lesse to others paying,
Then by selfe-offences weighing.
Shame to him, whose cruell striking,
Kils for faults of his owne liking:
Twice trebble shame on Angelo,
To weede my vice, and let his grow.
Oh, what may Man within him hide,
Though Angel on the outward side?
How may likenesse made in crimes,
Making practise on the Times,
To draw with ydle Spiders strings
Most ponderous and substantiall things?
Craft against vice, I must applie.
With Angelo to night shall lye
His old betroathed (but despised:)
So disguise shall by th' disguised
Pay with falshood, false exacting,
And performe an olde contracting.
Exit
Actus Quartus. Scoena Prima.
Enter Mariana, and Boy singing.
Song.
Take, oh take those lips away, that so sweetly were forsworne, And those eyes: the breake of day lights that doe mislead the Morne; But my kisses bring againe, bring againe, Seales of loue, but seal'd in vaine, seal'd in vaine.
Enter Duke.
Mar. Breake off thy song, and haste thee quick away,
Here comes a man of comfort, whose aduice
Hath often still'd my brawling discontent.
I cry you mercie, Sir, and well could wish
You had not found me here so musicall.
Let me excuse me, and beleeue me so,
My mirth it much displeas'd, but pleas'd my woe
Duk. 'Tis good; though Musick oft hath such a charme To make bad, good; and good prouoake to harme. I pray you tell me, hath any body enquir'd for mee here to day; much vpon this time haue I promis'd here to meete
Mar. You haue not bin enquir'd after: I haue sat here all day.
Enter Isabell.
Duk. I doe constantly beleeue you: the time is come euen now. I shall craue your forbearance a little, may be I will call vpon you anone for some aduantage to your selfe
Mar. I am alwayes bound to you.
Enter.
Duk. Very well met, and well come:
What is the newes from this good Deputie?
Isab. He hath a Garden circummur'd with Bricke,
Whose westerne side is with a Vineyard back't;
And to that Vineyard is a planched gate,
That makes his opening with this bigger Key:
This other doth command a little doore,
Which from the Vineyard to the Garden leades,
There haue I made my promise, vpon the
Heauy midle of the night, to call vpon him
Duk. But shall you on your knowledge find this way?
Isab. I haue t'ane a due, and wary note vpon't,
With whispering, and most guiltie diligence,
In action all of precept, he did show me
The way twice ore
Duk. Are there no other tokens
Betweene you 'greed, concerning her obseruance?
Isab. No: none but onely a repaire ith' darke,
And that I haue possest him, my most stay
Can be but briefe: for I haue made him know,
I haue a Seruant comes with me along
That staies vpon me; whose perswasion is,
I come about my Brother
Duk. 'Tis well borne vp.
I haue not yet made knowne to Mariana
Enter Mariana.
A word of this: what hoa, within; come forth,
I pray you be acquainted with this Maid,
She comes to doe you good
Isab. I doe desire the like
Duk. Do you perswade your selfe that I respect you?
Mar. Good Frier, I know you do, and haue found it
Duke. Take then this your companion by the hand
Who hath a storie readie for your eare:
I shall attend your leisure, but make haste
The vaporous night approaches
Mar. Wilt please you walke aside.
Enter.
Duke. Oh Place, and greatnes: millions of false eies
Are stucke vpon thee: volumes of report
Run with these false, and most contrarious Quest
Vpon thy doings: thousand escapes of wit
Make thee the father of their idle dreame,
And racke thee in their fancies. Welcome, how agreed?
Enter Mariana and Isabella.
Isab. Shee'll take the enterprize vpon her father,
If you aduise it
Duke. It is not my consent,
But my entreaty too
Isa. Little haue you to say
When you depart from him, but soft and low,
Remember now my brother
Mar. Feare me not
Duk. Nor gentle daughter, feare you not at all:
He is your husband on a pre-contract:
To bring you thus together 'tis no sinne,
Sith that the Iustice of your title to him
Doth flourish the deceit. Come, let vs goe,
Our Corne's to reape, for yet our Tithes to sow.
Exeunt.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Prouost and Clowne.
Pro. Come hither sirha; can you cut off a mans head?
Clo. If the man be a Bachelor Sir, I can:
But if he be a married man, he's his wiues head,
And I can neuer cut off a womans head
Pro. Come sir, leaue me your snatches, and yeeld mee a direct answere. To morrow morning are to die Claudio and Barnardine: heere 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 redeeme you from your Gyues: if not, you shall haue your full time of imprisonment, and your deliuerance with an vnpittied whipping; for you haue beene a notorious bawd
Clo. Sir, I haue beene an vnlawfull bawd, time out of minde, but yet I will bee content to be a lawfull hangman: I would bee glad to receiue some instruction from my fellow partner
Pro. What hoa, Abhorson: where's Abhorson there?
Enter Abhorson.
Abh. Doe you call sir? Pro. Sirha, here's a fellow will helpe you to morrow in your execution: if you thinke it meet, compound with him by the yeere, and let him abide here with you, if not, vse him for the present, and dismisse him, hee cannot plead his estimation with you: he hath beene a Bawd
Abh. A Bawd Sir? fie vpon him, he will discredit our
mysterie
Pro. Goe too Sir, you waigh equallie: a feather will
turne the Scale.
Enter.
Clo. Pray sir, by your good fauor: for surely sir, a
good fauor you haue, but that you haue a hanging look:
Doe you call sir, your occupation a Mysterie?
Abh. I Sir, a Misterie
Clo. Painting Sir, I haue heard say, is a Misterie; and your Whores sir, being members of my occupation, vsing painting, do proue my Occupation, a Misterie: but what Misterie there should be in hanging, if I should be hang'd, I cannot imagine
Abh. Sir, it is a Misterie
Clo. Proofe
Abh. Euerie true mans apparrell fits your Theefe
Clo. If it be too little for your theefe, your true man thinkes it bigge enough. If it bee too bigge for your Theefe, your Theefe thinkes it little enough: So euerie true mans apparrell fits your Theefe. Enter Prouost.
Pro. Are you agreed?
Clo. Sir, I will serue him: For I do finde your Hangman
is a more penitent Trade then your Bawd: he doth
oftner aske forgiuenesse
Pro. You sirrah, prouide your blocke and your Axe
to morrow, foure a clocke
Abh. Come on (Bawd) I will instruct thee in my
Trade: follow
Clo. I do desire to learne sir: and I hope, if you haue occasion to vse me for your owne turne, you shall finde me y'are. For truly sir, for your kindnesse, I owe you a good turne.
Exit
Pro. Call hether Barnardine and Claudio:
Th' one has my pitie; not a iot the other,
Being a Murtherer, though he were my brother.
Enter Claudio.
Looke, here's the Warrant Claudio, for thy death,
'Tis now dead midnight, and by eight to morrow
Thou must be made immortall. Where's Barnardine?
Cla. As fast lock'd vp in sleepe, as guiltlesse labour,
When it lies starkely in the Trauellers bones,
He will not wake
Pro. Who can do good on him?
Well, go, prepare your selfe. But harke, what noise?
Heauen giue your spirits comfort: by, and by,
I hope it is some pardon, or repreeue
For the most gentle Claudio. Welcome Father.
Enter Duke.
Duke. The best, and wholsomst spirits of the night,
Inuellop you, good Prouost: who call'd heere of late?
Pro. None since the Curphew rung
Duke. Not Isabell?
Pro. No
Duke. They will then er't be long
Pro. What comfort is for Claudio?
Duke. There's some in hope
Pro. It is a bitter Deputie
Duke. Not so, not so: his life is paralel'd
Euen with the stroke and line of his great Iustice:
He doth with holie abstinence subdue
That in himselfe, which he spurres on his powre
To qualifie in others: were he meal'd with that
Which he corrects, then were he tirrannous,
But this being so, he's iust. Now are they come.
This is a gentle Prouost, sildome when
The steeled Gaoler is the friend of men:
How now? what noise? That spirit's possest with hast,
That wounds th' vnsisting Posterne with these strokes
Pro. There he must stay vntil the Officer
Arise to let him in: he is call'd vp
Duke. Haue you no countermand for Claudio yet?
But he must die to morrow?
Pro. None Sir, none
Duke. As neere the dawning Prouost, as it is,
You shall heare more ere Morning
Pro. Happely
You something know: yet I beleeue there comes
No countermand: no such example haue we:
Besides, vpon the verie siege of Iustice,
Lord Angelo hath to the publike eare
Profest the contrarie.
Enter a Messenger.
Duke. This is his Lords man
Pro. And heere comes Claudio's pardon
Mess. My Lord hath sent you this note,
And by mee this further charge;
That you swerue 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
Pro. I shall obey him
Duke. This is his Pardon purchas'd by such sin,
For which the Pardoner himselfe is in:
Hence hath offence his quicke celeritie,
When it is borne in high Authority.
When Vice makes Mercie; Mercie's so extended,
That for the faults loue, is th' offender friended.
Now Sir, what newes?
Pro. I told you:
Lord Angelo (be-like) thinking me remisse
In mine Office, awakens mee
With this vnwonted putting on, methinks strangely:
For he hath not vs'd it before
Duk. Pray you let's heare.
The Letter.
Whatsoeuer you may heare to the contrary, let Claudio be executed
by foure of the clocke, and in the afternoone Bernardine:
For my better satisfaction, let mee haue Claudios
head sent me by fiue. Let this be duely performed with a
thought that more depends on it, then we must yet deliuer.
Thus faile not to doe your Office, as you will answere it at
your perill.
What say you to this Sir?
Duke. What is that Barnardine, who is to be executed
in th' afternoone?
Pro. A Bohemian borne: But here nurst vp & bred,
One that is a prisoner nine yeeres old
Duke. How came it, that the absent Duke had not either deliuer'd him to his libertie, or executed him? I haue heard it was euer his manner to do so
Pro. His friends still wrought Repreeues for him:
And indeed his fact till now in the gouernment of Lord
Angelo, came not to an vndoubtfull proofe
Duke. It is now apparant?
Pro. Most manifest, and not denied by himselfe
Duke. Hath he borne himselfe penitently in prison? How seemes he to be touch'd? Pro. A man that apprehends death no more dreadfully, but as a drunken sleepe, carelesse, wreaklesse, and fearelesse of what's past, present, or to come: insensible of mortality, and desperately mortall
Duke. He wants aduice
Pro. He wil heare none: he hath euermore had the liberty of the prison: giue him leaue to escape hence, hee would not. Drunke many times a day, if not many daies entirely drunke. We haue verie oft awak'd him, as if to carrie him to execution, and shew'd him a seeming warrant for it, it hath not moued him at all
Duke. More of him anon: There is written in your brow Prouost, honesty and constancie; if I reade it not truly, my ancient skill beguiles me: but in the boldnes of my cunning, I will lay my selfe in hazard: Claudio, whom heere you haue warrant to execute, is no greater forfeit to the Law, then Angelo who hath sentenc'd him. To make you vnderstand this in a manifested effect, I craue but foure daies respit: for the which, you are to do me both a present, and a dangerous courtesie
Pro. Pray Sir, in what?
Duke. In the delaying death
Pro. Alacke, how may I do it? Hauing the houre limited, and an expresse command, vnder penaltie, to deliuer his head in the view of Angelo? I may make my case as Claudio's, to crosse this in the smallest
Duke. 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 borne to Angelo
Pro. Angelo hath seene them both,
And will discouer the fauour
Duke. Oh, death's a great disguiser, and you may adde to it; Shaue the head, and tie the beard, and say it was the desire of the penitent to be so bar'de before his death: you know the course is common. If any thing fall to you vpon this, more then thankes and good fortune, by the Saint whom I professe, I will plead against it with my life
Pro. Pardon me, good Father, it is against my oath
Duke. Were you sworne to the Duke, or to the Deputie?
Pro. To him, and to his Substitutes
Duke. You will thinke you haue made no offence, if the Duke auouch the iustice of your dealing? Pro. But what likelihood is in that? Duke. Not a resemblance, but a certainty; yet since I see you fearfull, that neither my coate, integrity, nor perswasion, can with ease attempt you, I wil go further then I meant, to plucke all feares out of you. Looke you Sir, heere is the hand and Seale of the Duke: you know the Charracter I doubt not, and the Signet is not strange to you? Pro. I know them both
Duke. The Contents of this, is the returne of the Duke; you shall anon ouer-reade it at your pleasure: where you shall finde within these two daies, he wil be heere. This is a thing that Angelo knowes not, for hee this very day receiues letters of strange tenor, perchance of the Dukes death, perchance entering into some Monasterie, but by chance nothing of what is writ. Looke, th' vnfolding Starre calles vp the Shepheard; put not your selfe into amazement, how these things should be; all difficulties are but easie when they are knowne. Call your executioner, and off with Barnardines head: I will giue him a present shrift, and aduise him for a better place. Yet you are amaz'd, but this shall absolutely resolue you: Come away, it is almost cleere dawne.
Enter.
Scena Tertia.
Enter Clowne.
Clo. I am as well acquainted heere, as I was in our house of profession: one would thinke it were Mistris Ouerdons owne house, for heere be manie of her olde Customers. First, here's yong Mr Rash, hee's in for a commoditie of browne paper, and olde Ginger, nine score and seuenteene pounds, of which hee made fiue Markes readie money: marrie then, Ginger was not much in request, for the olde Women were all dead. Then is there heere one Mr Caper, at the suite of Master Three-Pile the Mercer, for some foure suites of Peachcolour'd Satten, which now peaches him a beggar. Then haue we heere, yong Dizie, and yong Mr Deepevow, and Mr Copperspurre, and Mr Starue-Lackey the Rapier and dagger man, and yong Drop-heire that kild lustie Pudding, and Mr Forthlight the Tilter, and braue Mr Shootie the great Traueller, and wilde Halfe-Canne that stabb'd Pots, and I thinke fortie more, all great doers in our Trade, and are now for the Lords sake.
Enter Abhorson.
Abh. Sirrah, bring Barnardine hether
Clo. Mr Barnardine, you must rise and be hang'd,
Mr Barnardine
Abh. What hoa Barnardine.
Barnardine within.
Bar. A pox o'your throats: who makes that noyse
there? What are you?
Clo. Your friends Sir, the Hangman:
You must be so good Sir to rise, and be put to death
Bar. Away you Rogue, away, I am sleepie
Abh. Tell him he must awake,
And that quickly too
Clo. Pray Master Barnardine, awake till you are executed,
and sleepe afterwards
Ab. Go in to him, and fetch him out
Clo. He is comming Sir, he is comming: I heare his
Straw russle.
Enter Barnardine.
Abh. Is the Axe vpon the blocke, sirrah?
Clo. Verie readie Sir
Bar. How now Abhorson?
What's the newes with you?
Abh. Truly Sir, I would desire you to clap into your
prayers: for looke you, the Warrants come
Bar. You Rogue, I haue bin drinking all night,
I am not fitted for't
Clo. Oh, the better Sir: for he that drinkes all night, and is hanged betimes in the morning, may sleepe the sounder all the next day.
Enter Duke.
Abh. Looke you Sir, heere comes your ghostly Father: do we iest now thinke you? Duke. Sir, induced by my charitie, and hearing how hastily you are to depart, I am come to aduise you, Comfort you, and pray with you
Bar. Friar, not I: I haue bin drinking hard all night, and I will haue more time to prepare mee, or they shall beat out my braines with billets: I will not consent to die this day, that's certaine
Duke. Oh sir, you must: and therefore I beseech you
Looke forward on the iournie you shall go
Bar. I sweare I will not die to day for anie mans perswasion
Duke. But heare you:
Bar. Not a word: if you haue anie thing to say to me,
come to my Ward: for thence will not I to day.
Exit
Enter Prouost.
Duke. Vnfit to liue, or die: oh grauell heart.
After him (Fellowes) bring him to the blocke
Pro. Now Sir, how do you finde the prisoner?
Duke. A creature vnprepar'd, vnmeet for death,
And to transport him in the minde he is,
Were damnable
Pro. Heere in the prison, Father,
There died this morning of a cruell Feauor,
One Ragozine, a most notorious Pirate,
A man of Claudio's yeares: his beard, and head
Iust of his colour. What if we do omit
This Reprobate, til he were wel enclin'd,
And satisfie the Deputie with the visage
Of Ragozine, more like to Claudio?
Duke. Oh, 'tis an accident that heauen prouides:
Dispatch it presently, the houre drawes on
Prefixt by Angelo: See this be done,
And sent according to command, whiles I
Perswade this rude wretch willingly to die
Pro. This shall be done (good Father) presently:
But Barnardine must die this afternoone,
And how shall we continue Claudio,
To saue me from the danger that might come,
If he were knowne aliue?
Duke. Let this be done,
Put them in secret holds, both Barnardine and Claudio,
Ere twice the Sun hath made his iournall greeting
To yond generation, you shal finde
Your safetie manifested
Pro. I am your free dependant.
Enter.
Duke. Quicke, dispatch, and send the head to Angelo
Now wil I write Letters to Angelo,
(The Prouost he shal beare them) whose contents
Shal witnesse to him I am neere at home:
And that by great Iniunctions I am bound
To enter publikely: him Ile desire
To meet me at the consecrated Fount,
A League below the Citie: and from thence,
By cold gradation, and weale-ballanc'd forme.
We shal proceed with Angelo.
Enter Prouost.
Pro. Heere is the head, Ile carrie it my selfe
Duke. Conuenient is it: Make a swift returne,
For I would commune with you of such things,
That want no eare but yours
Pro. Ile make all speede.
Exit
Isabell within.
Isa. Peace hoa, be heere
Duke. The tongue of Isabell. She's come to know,
If yet her brothers pardon be come hither:
But I will keepe her ignorant of her good,
To make her heauenly comforts of dispaire,
When it is least expected.
Enter Isabella.
Isa. Hoa, by your leaue
Duke. Good morning to you, faire, and gracious
daughter
Isa. The better giuen me by so holy a man,
Hath yet the Deputie sent my brothers pardon?
Duke. He hath releasd him, Isabell, from the world,
His head is off, and sent to Angelo
Isa. Nay, but it is not so
Duke. It is no other,
Shew your wisedome daughter in your close patience
Isa. Oh, I wil to him, and plucke out his eies
Duk. You shal not be admitted to his sight
Isa. Vnhappie Claudio, wretched Isabell,
Iniurious world, most damned Angelo
Duke. This nor hurts him, nor profits you a iot,
Forbeare it therefore, giue your cause to heauen.
Marke what I say, which you shal finde
By euery sillable a faithful veritie.
The Duke comes home to morrow: nay drie your eyes,
One of our Couent, and his Confessor
Giues me this instance: Already he hath carried
Notice to Escalus and Angelo,
Who do prepare to meete him at the gates,
There to giue vp their powre: If you can pace your wisdome,
In that good path that I would wish it go,
And you shal haue your bosome on this wretch,
Grace of the Duke, reuenges to your heart,
And general Honor
Isa. I am directed by you
Duk. This Letter then to Friar Peter giue,
'Tis that he sent me of the Dukes returne:
Say, by this token, I desire his companie
At Mariana's house to night. Her cause, and yours
Ile perfect him withall, and he shal bring you
Before the Duke; and to the head of Angelo
Accuse him home and home. For my poore selfe,
I am combined by a sacred Vow,
And shall be absent. Wend you with this Letter:
Command these fretting waters from your eies
With a light heart; trust not my holie Order
If I peruert your course: whose heere?
Enter Lucio.
Luc. Good' euen;
Frier, where's the Prouost?
Duke. Not within Sir
Luc. Oh prettie Isabella, I am pale at mine heart, to see thine eyes so red: thou must be patient; I am faine to dine and sup with water and bran: I dare not for my head fill my belly. One fruitful Meale would set mee too't: but they say the Duke will be heere to Morrow. By my troth Isabell I lou'd thy brother, if the olde fantastical Duke of darke corners had bene at home, he had liued
Duke. Sir, the Duke is marueilous little beholding
to your reports, but the best is, he liues not in them
Luc. Friar, thou knowest not the Duke so wel as I
do: he's a better woodman then thou tak'st him for
Duke. Well: you'l answer this one day. Fare ye well
Luc. Nay tarrie, Ile go along with thee,
I can tel thee pretty tales of the Duke
Duke. You haue 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 childe
Duke. Did you such a thing?
Luc. Yes marrie did I; but I was faine to forswear it,
They would else haue married me to the rotten Medler
Duke. Sir your company is fairer then honest, rest you
well
Lucio. By my troth Ile go with thee to the lanes end: if baudy talke offend you, wee'l haue very litle of it: nay Friar, I am a kind of Burre, I shal sticke.
Exeunt.
Scena Quarta.
Enter Angelo & Escalus.
Esc. Euery Letter he hath writ, hath disuouch'd other
An. In most vneuen and distracted manner, his actions show much like to madnesse, pray heauen his wisedome bee not tainted: and why meet him at the gates and deliuer our authorities there? Esc. I ghesse not
Ang. And why should wee proclaime it in an howre before his entring, that if any craue redresse of iniustice, they should exhibit their petitions in the street? Esc. He showes his reason for that: to haue a dispatch of Complaints, and to deliuer vs from deuices heereafter, which shall then haue no power to stand against vs
Ang. Well: I beseech you let it bee proclaim'd betimes i'th' morne, Ile call you at your house: giue notice to such men of sort and suite as are to meete him
Esc. I shall sir: fareyouwell.
Enter.
Ang. Good night.
This deede vnshapes me quite, makes me vnpregnant
And dull to all proceedings. A deflowred maid,
And by an eminent body, that enforc'd
The Law against it? But that her tender shame
Will not proclaime against her maiden losse,
How might she tongue me? yet reason dares her no,
For my Authority beares of a credent bulke,
That no particular scandall once can touch
But it confounds the breather. He should haue liu'd,
Saue that his riotous youth with dangerous sense
Might in the times to come haue ta'ne reuenge
By so receiuing a dishonor'd life
With ransome of such shame: would yet he had liued.
Alack, when once our grace we haue forgot,
Nothing goes right, we would, and we would not.
Enter.
Scena Quinta.
Enter Duke and Frier Peter.
Duke. These Letters at fit time deliuer me,
The Prouost knowes our purpose and our plot,
The matter being a foote, keepe your instruction
And hold you euer to our speciall drift,
Though sometimes you doe blench from this to that
As cause doth minister: Goe call at Flauia's house,
And tell him where I stay: giue the like notice
To Valencius, Rowland, and to Crassus,
And bid them bring the Trumpets to the gate:
But send me Flauius first
Peter. It shall be speeded well.
Enter Varrius.
Duke. I thank thee Varrius, thou hast made good hast,
Come, we will walke: There's other of our friends
Will greet vs heere anon: my gentle Varrius.
Exeunt.
Scena Sexta.
Enter Isabella and Mariana.
Isab. To speake so indirectly I am loath,
I would say the truth, but to accuse him so
That is your part, yet I am aduis'd to doe it,
He saies, to vaile full purpose
Mar. Be rul'd by him
Isab. Besides he tells me, that if peraduenture
He speake against me on the aduerse side,
I should not thinke it strange, for 'tis a physicke
That's bitter, to sweet end.
Enter Peter.
Mar. I would Frier Peter
Isab. Oh peace, the Frier is come
Peter. Come I haue found you out a stand most fit,
Where you may haue such vantage on the Duke
He shall not passe you:
Twice haue the Trumpets sounded.
The generous, and grauest Citizens
Haue hent the gates, and very neere vpon
The Duke is entring:
Therefore hence away.
Exeunt.
Actus Quintus. Scoena Prima.
Enter Duke, Varrius, Lords, Angelo, Esculus, Lucio, Citizens at seuerall doores.
Duk. My very worthy Cosen, fairely met,
Our old, and faithfull friend, we are glad to see you
Ang. Esc. Happy returne be to your royall grace
Duk. Many and harty thankings to you both:
We haue made enquiry of you, and we heare
Such goodnesse of your Iustice, that our soule
Cannot but yeeld you forth to publique thankes
Forerunning more requitall
Ang. You make my bonds still greater
Duk. Oh your desert speaks loud, & I should wrong it
To locke it in the wards of couert bosome
When it deserues with characters of brasse
A forted residence 'gainst the tooth of time,
And razure of obliuion: Giue we your hand
And let the Subiect see, to make them know
That outward curtesies would faine proclaime
Fauours that keepe within: Come Escalus,
You must walke by vs, on our other hand:
And good supporters are you.
Enter Peter and Isabella.
Peter. Now is your time
Speake loud, and kneele before him
Isab. Iustice, O royall Duke, vaile your regard
Vpon a wrong'd (I would faine haue said a Maid)
Oh worthy Prince, dishonor not your eye
By throwing it on any other obiect,
Till you haue heard me, in my true complaint,
And giuen me Iustice, Iustice, Iustice, Iustice
Duk. Relate your wrongs;
In what, by whom? be briefe:
Here is Lord Angelo shall giue you Iustice,
Reueale your selfe to him
Isab. Oh worthy Duke,
You bid me seeke redemption of the diuell,
Heare me your selfe: for that which I must speake
Must either punish me, not being beleeu'd,
Or wring redresse from you:
Heare me: oh heare me, heere
Ang. My Lord, her wits I feare me are not firme:
She hath bin a suitor to me, for her Brother
Cut off by course of Iustice
Isab. By course of Iustice
Ang. And she will speake most bitterly, and strange
Isab. Most strange: but yet most truely wil I speake,
That Angelo's forsworne, is it not strange?
That Angelo's a murtherer, is't not strange?
That Angelo is an adulterous thiefe,
An hypocrite, a virgin violator,
Is it not strange? and strange?
Duke. Nay it is ten times strange?
Isa. It is not truer he is Angelo,
Then this is all as true, as it is strange;
Nay, it is ten times true, for truth is truth
To th' end of reckning
Duke. Away with her: poore soule
She speakes this, in th' infirmity of sence
Isa. Oh Prince, I coniure thee, as thou beleeu'st
There is another comfort, then this world,
That thou neglect me not, with that opinion
That I am touch'd with madnesse: make not impossible
That which but seemes vnlike, 'tis not impossible
But one, the wickedst caitiffe on the ground
May seeme as shie, as graue, as iust, as absolute:
As Angelo, euen so may Angelo
In all his dressings, caracts, titles, formes,
Be an arch-villaine: Beleeue it, royall Prince
If he be lesse, he's nothing, but he's more,
Had I more name for badnesse
Duke. By mine honesty
If she be mad, as I beleeue no other,
Her madnesse hath the oddest frame of sense,
Such a dependancy of thing, on thing,
As ere I heard in madnesse
Isab. Oh gracious Duke
Harpe not on that; nor do not banish reason
For inequality, but let your reason serue
To make the truth appeare, where it seemes hid,
And hide the false seemes true
Duk. Many that are not mad
Haue sure more lacke of reason:
What would you say?
Isab. I am the Sister of one Claudio,
Condemnd vpon the Act of Fornication
To loose his head, condemn'd by Angelo,
I, (in probation of a Sisterhood)
Was sent to by my Brother; one Lucio
As then the Messenger
Luc. That's I, and't like your Grace:
I came to her from Claudio, and desir'd her,
To try her gracious fortune with Lord Angelo,
For her poore Brothers pardon
Isab. That's he indeede
Duk. You were not bid to speake
Luc. No, my good Lord,
Nor wish'd to hold my peace
Duk. I wish you now then,
Pray you take note of it: and when you haue
A businesse for your selfe: pray heauen you then
Be perfect
Luc. I warrant your honor
Duk. The warrant's for your selfe: take heede to't
Isab. This Gentleman told somewhat of my Tale
Luc. Right
Duk. It may be right, but you are i'the wrong
To speake before your time: proceed,
Isab. I went
To this pernicious Caitiffe Deputie
Duk. That's somewhat madly spoken
Isab. Pardon it,
The phrase is to the matter
Duke. Mended againe: the matter: proceed
Isab. In briefe, to set the needlesse processe by:
How I perswaded, how I praid, and kneel'd,
How he refeld me, and how I replide
(For this was of much length) the vild conclusion
I now begin with griefe, and shame to vtter.
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 yeeld to him: But the next morne betimes,
His purpose surfetting, he sends a warrant
For my poore brothers head
Duke. This is most likely
Isab. Oh that it were as like as it is true
Duk. By heauen (fond wretch) y knowst not what thou speak'st,
Or else thou art suborn'd against his honor
In hatefull practise: first his Integritie
Stands without blemish: next it imports no reason,
That with such vehemency he should pursue
Faults proper to himselfe: if he had so offended
He would haue waigh'd thy brother by himselfe,
And not haue cut him off: some one hath set you on:
Confesse the truth, and say by whose aduice
Thou cam'st heere to complaine
Isab. And is this all?
Then oh you blessed Ministers aboue
Keepe me in patience, and with ripened time
Vnfold the euill, which is heere wrapt vp
In countenance: heauen shield your Grace from woe,
As I thus wrong'd, hence vnbeleeued goe
Duke. I know you'ld faine be gone: An Officer:
To prison with her: Shall we thus permit
A blasting and a scandalous breath to fall,
On him so neere vs? This needs must be a practise:
Who knew of your intent and comming hither?
Isa. One that I would were heere, Frier Lodowick
Duk. A ghostly Father, belike:
Who knowes that Lodowicke?
Luc. My Lord, I know him, 'tis a medling Fryer,
I doe not like the man: had he been Lay my Lord,
For certaine words he spake against your Grace
In your retirment, I had swing'd him soundly
Duke. Words against mee? this' a good Fryer belike
And to set on this wretched woman here
Against our Substitute: Let this Fryer be found
Luc. But yesternight my Lord, she and that Fryer
I saw them at the prison: a sawcy Fryar,
A very scuruy fellow
Peter. Blessed be your Royall Grace:
I haue stood by my Lord, and I haue heard
Your royall eare abus'd: first hath this woman
Most wrongfully accus'd your Substitute,
Who is as free from touch, or soyle with her
As she from one vngot
Duke. We did beleeue no lesse.
Know you that Frier Lodowick that she speakes of?
Peter. I know him for a man diuine and holy,
Not scuruy, nor a temporary medler
As he's reported by this Gentleman:
And on my trust, a man that neuer yet
Did (as he vouches) mis-report your Grace
Luc. My Lord, most villanously, beleeue it
Peter. Well: he in time may come to cleere himselfe;
But at this instant he is sicke, my Lord:
Of a strange Feauor: vpon his meere request
Being come to knowledge, that there was complaint
Intended 'gainst Lord Angelo, came I hether
To speake as from his mouth, what he doth know
Is true, and false: And what he with his oath
And all probation will make vp full cleare
Whensoeuer he's conuented: First for this woman,
To iustifie this worthy Noble man
So vulgarly and personally accus'd,
Her shall you heare disproued to her eyes,
Till she her selfe confesse it
Duk. Good Frier, let's heare it:
Doe you not smile at this, Lord Angelo?
Oh heauen, the vanity of wretched fooles.
Giue vs some seates, Come cosen Angelo,
In this I'll be impartiall: be you Iudge
Of your owne Cause: Is this the Witnes Frier?
Enter Mariana.
First, let her shew your face, and after, speake
Mar. Pardon my Lord, I will not shew my face
Vntill my husband bid me
Duke. What, are you married?
Mar. No my Lord
Duke. Are you a Maid?
Mar. No my Lord
Duk. A Widow then?
Mar. Neither, my Lord
Duk. Why you are nothing then: neither Maid, Widow,
nor Wife?
Luc. My Lord, she may be a Puncke: for many of
them, are neither Maid, Widow, nor Wife
Duk. Silence that fellow: I would he had some cause
to prattle for himselfe
Luc. Well my Lord
Mar. My Lord, I doe confesse I nere was married,
And I confesse besides, I am no Maid,
I haue known my husband, yet my husband
Knowes not, that euer he knew me
Luc. He was drunk then, my Lord, it can be no better
Duk. For the benefit of silence, would thou wert so to
Luc. Well, my Lord
Duk. This is no witnesse for Lord Angelo
Mar. Now I come to't, my Lord.
Shee that accuses him of Fornication,
In selfe-same manner, doth accuse my husband,
And charges him, my Lord, with such a time,
When I'le depose I had him in mine Armes
With all th' effect of Loue
Ang. Charges she moe then me?
Mar. Not that I know
Duk. No? you say your husband
Mar. Why iust, my Lord, and that is Angelo,
Who thinkes he knowes, that he nere knew my body,
But knows, he thinkes, that he knowes Isabels
Ang. This is a strange abuse: Let's see thy face
Mar. My husband bids me, now I will vnmaske.
This is that face, thou cruell Angelo
Which once thou sworst, was worth the looking on:
This is the hand, which with a vowd contract
Was fast belockt in thine: This is the body
That tooke away the match from Isabell,
And did supply thee at thy garden-house
In her Imagin'd person
Duke. Know you this woman?
Luc. Carnallie she saies
Duk. Sirha, no more
Luc. Enough my Lord
Ang. My Lord, I must confesse, I know this woman,
And fiue yeres since there was some speech of marriage
Betwixt my selfe, and her: which was broke off,
Partly for that her promis'd proportions
Came short of Composition: But in chiefe
For that her reputation was dis-valued
In leuitie: Since which time of fiue yeres
I neuer spake with her, saw her, nor heard from her
Vpon my faith, and honor
Mar. Noble Prince,
As there comes light from heauen, and words fro[m] breath,
As there is sence in truth, and truth in vertue,
I am affianced this mans wife, as strongly
As words could make vp vowes: And my good Lord,
But Tuesday night last gon, 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 euer be confixed here
A Marble Monument
Ang. I did but smile till now,
Now, good my Lord, giue me the scope of Iustice,
My patience here is touch'd: I doe perceiue
These poore informall women, are no more
But instruments of some more mightier member
That sets them on. Let me haue way, my Lord
To finde this practise out
Duke. I, with my heart,
And punish them to your height of pleasure.
Thou foolish Frier, and thou pernicious woman
Compact with her that's gone: thinkst thou, thy oathes,
Though they would swear downe each particular Saint,
Were testimonies against his worth, and credit
That's seald in approbation? you, Lord Escalus
Sit with my Cozen, lend him your kinde paines
To finde out this abuse, whence 'tis deriu'd.
There is another Frier that set them on,
Let him be sent for
Peter. Would he were here, my Lord, for he indeed
Hath set the women on to this Complaint;
Your Prouost knowes the place where he abides,
And he may fetch him
Duke. Goe, doe it instantly:
And you, my noble and well-warranted Cosen
Whom it concernes to heare this matter forth,
Doe with your iniuries as seemes you best
In any chastisement; I for a while
Will leaue you; but stir not you till you haue
Well determin'd vpon these Slanderers.
Enter.
Esc. My Lord, wee'll doe it throughly: Signior Lucio, did not you say you knew that Frier Lodowick to be a dishonest person? Luc. Cucullus non facit Monachum, honest in nothing but in his Clothes, and one that hath spoke most villanous speeches of the Duke
Esc. We shall intreat you to abide heere till he come, and inforce them against him: we shall finde this Frier a notable fellow
Luc. As any in Vienna, on my word
Esc. Call that same Isabell here once againe, I would speake with her: pray you, my Lord, giue mee leaue to question, you shall see how Ile handle her
Luc. Not better then he, by her owne report
Esc. Say you?
Luc. Marry sir, I thinke, if you handled her priuately
She would sooner confesse, perchance publikely she'll be
asham'd.
Enter Duke, Prouost, Isabella
Esc. I will goe darkely to worke with her
Luc. That's the way: for women are light at midnight
Esc. Come on Mistris, here's a Gentlewoman,
Denies all that you haue said
Luc. My Lord, here comes the rascall I spoke of,
Here, with the Prouost
Esc. In very good time: speake not you to him, till
we call vpon you
Luc. Mum
Esc. Come Sir, did you set these women on to slander
Lord Angelo? they haue confes'd you did
Duk. 'Tis false
Esc. How? Know you where you are?
Duk. Respect to your great place; and let the diuell
Be sometime honour'd, for his burning throne.
Where is the Duke? 'tis he should heare me speake
Esc. The Duke's in vs: and we will heare you speake,
Looke you speake iustly
Duk. Boldly, at least. But oh poore soules,
Come you to seeke the Lamb here of the Fox;
Good night to your redresse: Is the Duke gone?
Then is your cause gone too: The Duke's vniust,
Thus to retort your manifest Appeale,
And put your triall in the villaines mouth,
Which here you come to accuse
Luc. This is the rascall: this is he I spoke of
Esc. Why thou vnreuerend, and vnhallowed Fryer:
Is't not enough thou hast suborn'd these women,
To accuse this worthy man? but in foule mouth,
And in the witnesse of his proper eare,
To call him villaine; and then to glance from him,
To th'Duke himselfe, to taxe him with Iniustice?
Take him hence; to th' racke with him: we'll towze you
Ioynt by ioynt, but we will know his purpose:
What? vniust?
Duk. Be not so hot: the Duke dare
No more stretch this finger of mine, then he
Dare racke his owne: his Subiect am I not,
Nor here Prouinciall: My businesse in this State
Made me a looker on here in Vienna,
Where I haue seene corruption boyle and bubble,
Till it ore-run the Stew: Lawes, for all faults,
But faults so countenanc'd, that the strong Statutes
Stand like the forfeites in a Barbers shop,
As much in mocke, as marke
Esc. Slander to th' State:
Away with him to prison
Ang. What can you vouch against him Signior Lucio?
Is this the man you did tell vs of?
Luc. 'Tis he, my Lord: come hither goodman bald-pate,
doe you know me?
Duk. I remember you Sir, by the sound of your voice,
I met you at the Prison, in the absence of the Duke
Luc. Oh, did you so? and do you remember what you
said of the Duke
Duk. Most notedly Sir
Luc. Do you so Sir: And was the Duke a flesh-monger, a foole, and a coward, as you then reported him to be? Duk. You must (Sir) change persons with me, ere you make that my report: you indeede spoke so of him, and much more, much worse
Luc. Oh thou damnable fellow: did I not plucke thee
by the nose, for thy speeches?
Duk. I protest, I loue the Duke, as I loue my selfe
Ang. Harke how the villaine would close now, after
his treasonable abuses
Esc. Such a fellow is not to be talk'd withall: Away with him to prison: Where is the Prouost? away with him to prison: lay bolts enough vpon him: let him speak no more: away with those Giglets too, and with the other confederate companion
Duk. Stay Sir, stay a while
Ang. What, resists he? helpe him Lucio
Luc. Come sir, come sir, come sir: foh sir, why you bald-pated lying rascall: you must be hooded must you? show your knaues visage with a poxe to you: show your sheepe-biting face, and be hang'd an houre: Will't not off? Duk. Thou art the first knaue, that ere mad'st a Duke. First Prouost, let me bayle these gentle three: Sneake not away Sir, for the Fryer, and you, Must haue a word anon: lay hold on him
Luc. This may proue worse then hanging
Duk. What you haue spoke, I pardon: sit you downe,
We'll borrow place of him; Sir, by your leaue:
Ha'st thou or word, or wit, or impudence,
That yet can doe thee office? If thou ha'st
Rely vpon it, till my tale be heard,
And hold no longer out
Ang. Oh, my dread Lord,
I should be guiltier then my guiltinesse,
To thinke I can be vndiscerneable,
When I perceiue your grace, like powre diuine,
Hath look'd vpon my passes. Then good Prince,
No longer Session hold vpon my shame,
But let my Triall, be mine owne Confession:
Immediate sentence then, and sequent death,
Is all the grace I beg
Duk. Come hither Mariana,
Say: was't thou ere contracted to this woman?
Ang. I was my Lord
Duk. Goe take her hence, and marry her instantly.
Doe you the office (Fryer) which consummate,
Returne him here againe: goe with him Prouost.
Enter.
Esc. My Lord, I am more amaz'd at his dishonor,
Then at the strangenesse of it
Duk. Come hither Isabell,
Your Frier is now your Prince: As I was then
Aduertysing, and holy to your businesse,
(Not changing heart with habit) I am still,
Atturnied at your seruice
Isab. Oh giue me pardon
That I, your vassaile, haue imploid, and pain'd
Your vnknowne Soueraigntie
Duk. You are pardon'd Isabell:
And now, deere Maide, be you as free to vs.
Your Brothers death I know sits at your heart:
And you may maruaile, why I obscur'd my selfe,
Labouring to saue his life: and would not rather
Make rash remonstrance of my hidden powre,
Then let him so be lost: oh most kinde Maid,
It was the swift celeritie of his death,
Which I did thinke, with slower foot came on,
That brain'd my purpose: but peace be with him,
That life is better life past fearing death,
Then that which liues to feare: make it your comfort,
So happy is your Brother.
Enter Angelo, Maria, Peter, Prouost.
Isab. I doe my Lord
Duk. For this new-maried man, approaching here,
Whose salt imagination yet hath wrong'd
Your well defended honor: you must pardon
For Mariana's sake: But as he adiudg'd your Brother,
Being criminall, in double violation
Of sacred Chastitie, and of promise-breach,
Thereon dependant for your Brothers life,
The very mercy of the Law cries out
Most audible, euen from his proper tongue.
An Angelo for Claudio, death for death:
Haste still paies haste, and leasure, answers leasure;
Like doth quit like, and Measure still for Measure:
Then Angelo, thy fault's thus manifested;
Which though thou would'st deny, denies thee vantage.
We doe condemne thee to the very Blocke
Where Claudio stoop'd to death, and with like haste.
Away with him
Mar. Oh my most gracious Lord,
I hope you will not mocke me with a husband?
Duk. It is your husband mock't you with a husband,
Consenting to the safe-guard of your honor,
I thought your marriage fit: else Imputation,
For that he knew you, might reproach your life,
And choake your good to come: For his Possessions,
Although by confutation they are ours;
We doe en-state, and widow you with all,
To buy you a better husband
Mar. Oh my deere Lord,
I craue no other, nor no better man
Duke. Neuer craue him, we are definitiue
Mar. Gentle my Liege
Duke. You doe but loose your labour.
Away with him to death: Now Sir, to you
Mar. Oh my good Lord, sweet Isabell, take my part,
Lend me your knees, and all my life to come,
I'll lend you all my life to doe you seruice
Duke. Against all sence you doe importune her,
Should she kneele downe, in mercie of this fact,
Her Brothers ghost, his paued bed would breake,
And take her hence in horror
Mar. Isabell:
Sweet Isabel, doe yet but kneele by me,
Hold vp your hands, say nothing: I'll speake 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.
Oh Isabel: will you not lend a knee?
Duke. He dies for Claudio's death
Isab. Most bounteous Sir.
Looke if it please you, on this man condemn'd,
As if my Brother liu'd: I partly thinke,
A due sinceritie gouerned his deedes,
Till he did looke on me: Since it is so,
Let him not die: my Brother had but Iustice,
In that he did the thing for which he dide.
For Angelo, his Act did not ore-take his bad intent,
And must be buried but as an intent
That perish'd by the way: thoughts are no subiects
Intents, but meerely thoughts
Mar. Meerely my Lord
Duk. Your suite's vnprofitable: stand vp I say:
I haue bethought me of another fault.
Prouost, how came it Claudio was beheaded
At an vnusuall howre?
Pro. It was commanded so
Duke. Had you a speciall warrant for the deed?
Pro. No my good Lord: it was by priuate message
Duk. For which I doe discharge you of your office,
Giue vp your keyes
Pro. Pardon me, noble Lord,
I thought it was a fault, but knew it not,
Yet did repent me after more aduice,
For testimony whereof, one in the prison
That should by priuate order else haue dide,
I haue reseru'd aliue
Duk. What's he?
Pro. His name is Barnardine
Duke. I would thou hadst done so by Claudio:
Goe fetch him hither, let me looke vpon him
Esc. I am sorry, one so learned, and so wise
As you, Lord Angelo, haue stil appear'd,
Should slip so grosselie, both in the heat of bloud
And lacke of temper'd iudgement afterward
Ang. I am sorrie, that such sorrow I procure,
And so deepe sticks it in my penitent heart,
That I craue death more willingly then mercy,
'Tis my deseruing, and I doe entreat it.
Enter Barnardine and Prouost, Claudio, Iulietta.
Duke. Which is that Barnardine?
Pro. This my Lord
Duke. There was a Friar told me of this man.
Sirha, thou art said to haue a stubborne soule
That apprehends no further then this world,
And squar'st thy life according: Thou'rt condemn'd,
But for those earthly faults, I quit them all,
And pray thee take this mercie to prouide
For better times to come: Frier aduise him,
I leaue him to your hand. What muffeld fellow's that?
Pro. This is another prisoner that I sau'd,
Who should haue di'd when Claudio lost his head,
As like almost to Claudio, as himselfe
Duke. If he be like your brother, for his sake
Is he pardon'd, and for your louelie sake
Giue me your hand, and say you will be mine,
He is my brother too: But fitter time for that:
By this Lord Angelo perceiues he's safe,
Methinkes I see a quickning in his eye:
Well Angelo, your euill quits you well.
Looke that you loue your wife: her worth, worth yours
I finde an apt remission in my selfe:
And yet heere's one in place I cannot pardon,
You sirha, that knew me for a foole, a Coward,
One all of Luxurie, an asse, a mad man:
Wherein haue I so deseru'd of you
That you extoll me thus?
Luc. '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. Whipt first, sir, and hang'd after.
Proclaime it Prouost round about the Citie,
If any woman wrong'd by this lewd fellow
(As I haue heard him sweare himselfe there's one
whom he begot with childe) let her appeare,
And he shall marry her: the nuptiall finish'd,
Let him be whipt and hang'd
Luc. I beseech your Highnesse doe not marry me to a Whore: your Highnesse said euen now I made you a Duke, good my Lord do not recompence me, in making me a Cuckold
Duke. Vpon mine honor thou shalt marrie her.
Thy slanders I forgiue, and therewithall
Remit thy other forfeits: take him to prison,
And see our pleasure herein executed
Luc. Marrying a punke my Lord, is pressing to death,
Whipping and hanging
Duke. Slandering a Prince deserues it.
She Claudio that you wrong'd, looke you restore.
Ioy to you Mariana, loue her Angelo:
I haue confes'd her, and I know her vertue.
Thanks good friend, Escalus, for thy much goodnesse,
There's more behinde that is more gratulate.
Thanks Prouost for thy care, and secrecie,
We shall imploy thee in a worthier place.
Forgiue him Angelo, that brought you home
The head of Ragozine for Claudio's,
Th' offence pardons it selfe. Deere Isabell,
I haue a motion much imports your good,
Whereto if you'll a willing eare incline;
What's mine is yours, and what is yours is mine.
So bring vs to our Pallace, where wee'll show
What's yet behinde, that meete you all should know.
The Scene Vienna.
The names of all the Actors.
Vincentio: the Duke.
Angelo, the Deputie.
Escalus, an ancient Lord.
Claudio, a yong Gentleman.
Lucio, a fantastique.
2. Other like Gentlemen.
Prouost.
Thomas. 2. Friers.
Peter.
Elbow, a simple Constable.
Froth, a foolish Gentleman.
Clowne.
Abhorson, an Executioner.
Barnardine, a dissolute prisoner.
Isabella, sister to Claudio.
Mariana, betrothed to Angelo.
Iuliet, beloued of Claudio.
Francisca, a Nun.
Mistris Ouer-don, a Bawd.
FINIS. MEASVRE, For Measure.
The Comedie of Errors
Actus primus, Scena prima.
Enter the Duke of Ephesus, with the Merchant of Siracusa, Iaylor, and other attendants.
Marchant. Proceed Solinus to procure my fall,
And by the doome of death end woes and all
Duke. Merchant of Siracusa, plead no more.
I am not partiall to infringe our Lawes;
The enmity and discord which of late
Sprung from the rancorous outrage of your Duke,
To Merchants our well-dealing Countrimen,
Who wanting gilders to redeeme their liues,
Haue seal'd his rigorous statutes with their blouds,
Excludes all pitty from our threatning lookes:
For since the mortall and intestine iarres
Twixt thy seditious Countrimen and vs,
It hath in solemne Synodes beene decreed,
Both by the Siracusians and our selues,
To admit no trafficke to our aduerse townes:
Nay more, if any borne at Ephesus
Be seene at any Siracusian Marts and Fayres:
Againe, if any Siracusian borne
Come to the Bay of Ephesus, he dies:
His goods confiscate to the Dukes dispose,
Vnlesse a thousand markes be leuied
To quit the penalty, and to ransome him:
Thy substance, valued at the highest rate,
Cannot amount vnto a hundred Markes,
Therefore by Law thou art condemn'd to die
Mer. Yet this my comfort, when your words are done,
My woes end likewise with the euening Sonne
Duk. Well Siracusian; say in briefe the cause
Why thou departedst from thy natiue home?
And for what cause thou cam'st to Ephesus
Mer. A heauier taske could not haue beene impos'd,
Then I to speake my griefes vnspeakeable:
Yet that the world may witnesse that my end
Was wrought by nature, not by vile offence,
Ile vtter what my sorrow giues me leaue.
In Syracusa was I borne, and wedde
Vnto a woman, happy but for me,
And by me; had not our hap beene bad:
With her I liu'd in ioy, our wealth increast
By prosperous voyages I often made
To Epidamium, till my factors death,
And he great care of goods at randone left,
Drew me from kinde embracements of my spouse;
From whom my absence was not sixe moneths olde,
Before her selfe (almost at fainting vnder
The pleasing punishment that women beare)
Had made prouision for her following me,
And soone, and safe, arriued where I was:
There had she not beene long, but she became
A ioyfull mother of two goodly sonnes:
And, which was strange, the one so like the other,
As could not be distinguish'd but by names.
That very howre, and in the selfe-same Inne,
A meane woman was deliuered
Of such a burthen Male, twins both alike:
Those, for their parents were exceeding poore,
I bought, and brought vp to attend my sonnes.
My wife, not meanely prowd of two such boyes,
Made daily motions for our home returne:
Vnwilling I agreed, alas, too soone wee came aboord.
A league from Epidamium had we saild
Before the alwaies winde-obeying deepe
Gaue any Tragicke Instance of our harme:
But longer did we not retaine much hope;
For what obscured light the heauens did grant,
Did but conuay vnto our fearefull mindes
A doubtfull warrant of immediate death,
Which though my selfe would gladly haue imbrac'd,
Yet the incessant weepings of my wife,
Weeping before for what she saw must come,
And pitteous playnings of the prettie babes
That mourn'd for fashion, ignorant what to feare,
Forst me to seeke delayes for them and me,
And this it was: (for other meanes was none)
The Sailors sought for safety by our boate,
And left the ship then sinking ripe to vs.
My wife, more carefull for the latter borne,
Had fastned him vnto a small spare Mast,
Such as sea-faring men prouide for stormes:
To him one of the other twins was bound,
Whil'st I had beene like heedfull of the other.
The children thus dispos'd, my wife and I,
Fixing our eyes on whom our care was fixt,
Fastned our selues at eyther end the mast,
And floating straight, obedient to the streame,
Was carried towards Corinth, as we thought.
At length the sonne gazing vpon the earth,
Disperst those vapours that offended vs,
And by the benefit of his wished light
The seas waxt calme, and we discouered
Two shippes from farre, making amaine to vs:
Of Corinth that, of Epidarus this,
But ere they came, oh let me say no more,
Gather the sequell by that went before
Duk. Nay forward old man, doe not breake off so,
For we may pitty, though not pardon thee
Merch. Oh had the gods done so, I had not now
Worthily tearm'd them mercilesse to vs:
For ere the ships could meet by twice fiue leagues,
We were encountred by a mighty rocke,
Which being violently borne vp,
Our helpefull ship was splitted in the midst;
So that in this vniust diuorce of vs,
Fortune had left to both of vs alike,
What to delight in, what to sorrow for,
Her part, poore soule, seeming as burdened
With lesser waight, but not with lesser woe,
Was carried with more speed before the winde,
And in our sight they three were taken vp
By Fishermen of Corinth, as we thought.
At length another ship had seiz'd on vs,
And knowing whom it was their hap to saue,
Gaue healthfull welcome to their ship-wrackt guests,
And would haue reft the Fishers of their prey,
Had not their backe beene very slow of saile;
And therefore homeward did they bend their course.
Thus haue you heard me seuer'd from my blisse,
That by misfortunes was my life prolong'd,
To tell sad stories of my owne mishaps
Duke. And for the sake of them thou sorrowest for,
Doe me the fauour to dilate at full,
What haue befalne of them and they till now
Merch. My yongest boy, and yet my eldest care,
At eighteene yeeres became inquisitiue
After his brother; and importun'd me
That his attendant, so his case was like,
Reft of his brother, but retain'd his name,
Might beare him company in the quest of him:
Whom whil'st I laboured of a loue to see,
I hazarded the losse of whom I lou'd.
Fiue Sommers haue I spent in farthest Greece,
Roming cleane through the bounds of Asia,
And coasting homeward, came to Ephesus:
Hopelesse to finde, yet loth to leaue vnsought
Or that, or any place that harbours men:
But heere must end the story of my life,
And happy were I in my timelie death,
Could all my trauells warrant me they liue
Duke. Haplesse Egeon whom the fates haue markt
To beare the extremitie of dire mishap:
Now trust me, were it not against our Lawes,
Against my Crowne, my oath, my dignity,
Which Princes would they may not disanull,
My soule should sue as aduocate for thee:
But though thou art adiudged to the death,
And passed sentence may not be recal'd
But to our honours great disparagement:
Yet will I fauour thee in what I can;
Therefore Marchant, Ile limit thee this day
To seeke thy helpe by beneficiall helpe,
Try all the friends thou hast in Ephesus,
Beg thou, or borrow, to make vp the summe,
And liue: if no, then thou art doom'd to die:
Iaylor, take him to thy custodie
Iaylor. I will my Lord
Merch. Hopelesse and helpelesse doth Egean wend,
But to procrastinate his liuelesse end.
Exeunt.
Enter Antipholis Erotes, a Marchant, and Dromio.
Mer. Therefore giue out you are of Epidamium,
Lest that your goods too soone be confiscate:
This very day a Syracusian Marchant
Is apprehended for a riuall here,
And not being able to buy out his life,
According to the statute of the towne,
Dies ere the wearie sunne set in the West:
There is your monie that I had to keepe
Ant. Goe beare it to the Centaure, where we host,
And stay there Dromio, till I come to thee;
Within this houre it will be dinner time,
Till that Ile view the manners of the towne,
Peruse the traders, gaze vpon the buildings,
And then returne and sleepe within mine Inne,
For with long trauaile I am stiffe and wearie.
Get thee away
Dro. Many a man would take you at your word,
And goe indeede, hauing so good a meane.
Exit Dromio.
Ant. A trustie villaine sir, that very oft,
When I am dull with care and melancholly,
Lightens my humour with his merry iests:
What will you walke with me about the towne,
And then goe to my Inne and dine with me?
E.Mar. I am inuited sir to certaine Marchants,
Of whom I hope to make much benefit:
I craue your pardon, soone at fiue a clocke,
Please you, Ile meete with you vpon the Mart,
And afterward consort you till bed time:
My present businesse cals me from you now
Ant. Farewell till then: I will goe loose my selfe,
And wander vp and downe to view the Citie
E.Mar. Sir, I commend you to your owne content.
Exeunt.
Ant. He that commends me to mine owne content,
Commends me to the thing I cannot get:
I to the world am like a drop of water,
That in the Ocean seekes another drop,
Who falling there to finde his fellow forth,
(Vnseene, inquisitiue) confounds himselfe.
So I, to finde a Mother and a Brother,
In quest of them (vnhappie a) loose my selfe.
Enter Dromio of Ephesus.
Here comes the almanacke of my true date:
What now? How chance thou art return'd so soone
E.Dro. Return'd so soone, rather approacht too late:
The Capon burnes, the Pig fals from the spit;
The clocke hath strucken twelue vpon the bell:
My Mistris made it one vpon my cheeke:
She is so hot because the meate is colde:
The meate is colde, because you come not home:
You come not home, because you haue no stomacke:
You haue no stomacke, hauing broke your fast:
But we that know what 'tis to fast and pray,
Are penitent for your default to day
Ant. Stop in your winde sir, tell me this I pray?
Where haue you left the mony that I gaue you
E.Dro. Oh sixe pence that I had a wensday last,
To pay the Sadler for my Mistris crupper:
The Sadler had it Sir, I kept it not
Ant. I am not in a sportiue humor now:
Tell me, and dally not, where is the monie?
We being strangers here, how dar'st thou trust
So great a charge from thine owne custodie
E.Dro. I pray you iest sir as you sit at dinner:
I from my Mistris come to you in post:
If I returne I shall be post indeede.
For she will scoure your fault vpon my pate:
Me thinkes your maw, like mine, should be your cooke,
And strike you home without a messenger
Ant. Come Dromio, come, these iests are out of season,
Reserue them till a merrier houre then this:
Where is the gold I gaue in charge to thee?
E.Dro. To me sir? why you gaue no gold to me?
Ant. Come on sir knaue, haue done your foolishnes,
And tell me how thou hast dispos'd thy charge
E.Dro. My charge was but to fetch you fro[m] the Mart
Home to your house, the Phoenix sir, to dinner;
My Mistris and her sister staies for you
Ant. Now as I am a Christian answer me,
In what safe place you haue bestow'd my monie;
Or I shall breake that merrie sconce of yours
That stands on tricks, when I am vndispos'd:
Where is the thousand Markes thou hadst of me?
E.Dro. I haue some markes of yours vpon my pate:
Some of my Mistris markes vpon my shoulders:
But not a thousand markes betweene you both.
If I should pay your worship those againe,
Perchance you will not beare them patiently
Ant. Thy Mistris markes? what Mistris slaue hast thou?
E.Dro. Your worships wife, my Mistris at the Phoenix;
She that doth fast till you come home to dinner:
And praies that you will hie you home to dinner
Ant. What wilt thou flout me thus vnto my face
Being forbid? There take you that sir knaue
E.Dro. What meane you sir, for God sake hold your hands:
Nay, and you will not sir, Ile take my heeles.
Exeunt. Dromio Ep.
Ant. Vpon my life by some deuise or other,
The villaine is ore-wrought of all my monie.
They say this towne is full of cosenage:
As nimble Iuglers that deceiue the eie:
Darke working Sorcerers that change the minde:
Soule-killing Witches, that deforme the bodie:
Disguised Cheaters, prating Mountebankes;
And manie such like liberties of sinne:
If it proue so, I will be gone the sooner:
Ile to the Centaur to goe seeke this slaue,
I greatly feare my monie is not safe.
Enter.
Actus Secundus.
Enter Adriana, wife to Antipholis Sereptus, with Luciana her
Sister.
Adr. Neither my husband nor the slaue return'd,
That in such haste I sent to seeke his Master?
Sure Luciana it is two a clocke
Luc. Perhaps some Merchant hath inuited him,
And from the Mart he's somewhere gone to dinner:
Good Sister let vs dine, and neuer fret;
A man is Master of his libertie:
Time is their Master, and when they see time,
They'll goe or come; if so, be patient Sister
Adr. Why should their libertie then ours be more?
Luc. Because their businesse still lies out adore
Adr. Looke when I serue him so, he takes it thus
Luc. Oh, know he is the bridle of your will
Adr. There's none but asses will be bridled so
Luc. Why, headstrong liberty is lasht with woe:
There's nothing situate vnder heauens eye,
But hath his bound in earth, in sea, in skie.
The beasts, the fishes, and the winged fowles
Are their males subiects, and at their controules:
Man more diuine, the Master of all these,
Lord of the wide world, and wilde watry seas,
Indued with intellectuall sence and soules,
Of more preheminence then fish and fowles,
Are masters to their females, and their Lords:
Then let your will attend on their accords
Adri. This seruitude makes you to keepe vnwed
Luci. Not this, but troubles of the marriage bed
Adr. But were you wedded, you wold bear some sway
Luc. Ere I learne loue, Ile practise to obey
Adr. How if your husband start some other where?
Luc. Till he come home againe, I would forbeare
Adr. Patience vnmou'd, no maruel though she pause,
They can be meeke, that haue no other cause:
A wretched soule bruis'd with aduersitie,
We bid be quiet when we heare it crie.
But were we burdned with like waight of paine,
As much, or more, we should our selues complaine:
So thou that hast no vnkinde mate to greeue thee,
With vrging helpelesse patience would releeue me;
But if thou liue to see like right bereft,
This foole-beg'd patience in thee will be left
Luci. Well, I will marry one day but to trie:
Heere comes your man, now is your husband nie.
Enter Dromio Eph.
Adr. Say, is your tardie master now at hand?
E.Dro. Nay, hee's at too hands with mee, and that my
two eares can witnesse
Adr. Say, didst thou speake with him? knowst thou
his minde?
E.Dro. I, I, he told his minde vpon mine eare,
Beshrew his hand, I scarce could vnderstand it
Luc. Spake hee so doubtfully, thou couldst not feele
his meaning
E.Dro. Nay, hee strooke so plainly, I could too well feele his blowes; and withall so doubtfully, that I could scarce vnderstand them
Adri. But say, I prethee, is he comming home?
It seemes he hath great care to please his wife
E.Dro. Why Mistresse, sure my Master is horne mad
Adri. Horne mad, thou villaine?
E.Dro. I meane not Cuckold mad,
But sure he is starke mad:
When I desir'd him to come home to dinner,
He ask'd me for a hundred markes in gold:
'Tis dinner time, quoth I: my gold, quoth he:
Your meat doth burne, quoth I: my gold quoth he:
Will you come, quoth I: my gold, quoth he;
Where is the thousand markes I gaue thee villaine?
The Pigge quoth I, is burn'd: my gold, quoth he:
My mistresse, sir, quoth I: hang vp thy Mistresse:
I know not thy mistresse, out on thy mistresse
Luci. Quoth who? E.Dr. Quoth my Master, I know quoth he, no house, no wife, no mistresse: so that my arrant due vnto my tongue, I thanke him, I bare home vpon my shoulders: for in conclusion, he did beat me there
Adri. Go back againe, thou slaue, & fetch him home
Dro. Goe backe againe, and be new beaten home?
For Gods sake send some other messenger
Adri. Backe slaue, or I will breake thy pate a-crosse
Dro. And he will blesse y crosse with other beating:
Betweene you, I shall haue a holy head
Adri. Hence prating pesant, fetch thy Master home
Dro. Am I so round with you, as you with me,
That like a foot-ball you doe spurne me thus:
You spurne me hence, and he will spurne me hither,
If I last in this seruice, you must case me in leather
Luci. Fie how impatience lowreth in your face
Adri. His company must do his minions grace,
Whil'st I at home starue for a merrie looke:
Hath homelie age th' alluring beauty tooke
From my poore cheeke? then he hath wasted it.
Are my discourses dull? Barren my wit,
If voluble and sharpe discourse be mar'd,
Vnkindnesse blunts it more then marble hard.
Doe their gay vestments his affections baite?
That's not my fault, hee's master of my state.
What ruines are in me that can be found,
By him not ruin'd? Then is he the ground
Of my defeatures. My decayed faire,
A sunnie looke of his, would soone repaire.
But, too vnruly Deere, he breakes the pale,
And feedes from home; poore I am but his stale
Luci. Selfe-harming Iealousie; fie beat it hence
Ad. Vnfeeling fools can with such wrongs dispence:
I know his eye doth homage other-where,
Or else, what lets it but he would be here?
Sister, you know he promis'd me a chaine,
Would that alone, a loue he would detaine,
So he would keepe faire quarter with his bed:
I see the Iewell best enamaled
Will loose his beautie: yet the gold bides still
That others touch, and often touching will,
Where gold and no man that hath a name,
By falshood and corruption doth it shame:
Since that my beautie cannot please his eie,
Ile weepe (what's left away) and weeping die
Luci. How manie fond fooles serue mad Ielousie?
Enter.
Enter Antipholis Errotis.
Ant. The gold I gaue to Dromio is laid vp
Safe at the Centaur, and the heedfull slaue
Is wandred forth in care to seeke me out
By computation and mine hosts report.
I could not speake with Dromio, since at first
I sent him from the Mart? see here he comes.
Enter Dromio Siracusia.
How now sir, is your merrie humor alter'd?
As you loue stroakes, so iest with me againe:
You know no Centaur? you receiu'd no gold?
Your Mistresse sent to haue me home to dinner?
My house was at the Phoenix? Wast thou mad,
That thus so madlie thou did didst answere me?
S.Dro. What answer sir? when spake I such a word?
E.Ant. Euen now, euen here, not halfe an howre since
S.Dro. I did not see you since you sent me hence
Home to the Centaur with the gold you gaue me
Ant. Villaine, thou didst denie the golds receit,
And toldst me of a Mistresse, and a dinner,
For which I hope thou feltst I was displeas'd
S.Dro. I am glad to see you in this merrie vaine,
What meanes this iest, I pray you Master tell me?
Ant. Yea, dost thou ieere & flowt me in the teeth?
Thinkst y I iest? hold, take thou that, & that.
Beats Dro.
S.Dr. Hold sir, for Gods sake, now your iest is earnest,
Vpon what bargaine do you giue it me?
Antiph. Because that I familiarlie sometimes
Doe vse you for my foole, and chat with you,
Your sawcinesse will iest vpon my loue,
And make a Common of my serious howres,
When the sunne shines, let foolish gnats make sport,
But creepe in crannies, when he hides his beames:
If you will iest with me, know my aspect,
And fashion your demeanor to my lookes,
Or I will beat this method in your sconce
S.Dro. Sconce call you it? so you would leaue battering, I had rather haue it a head, and you vse these blows long, I must get a sconce for my head, and Insconce it to, or else I shall seek my wit in my shoulders, but I pray sir, why am I beaten? Ant. Dost thou not know? S.Dro. Nothing sir, but that I am beaten
Ant. Shall I tell you why?
S.Dro. I sir, and wherefore; for they say, euery why
hath a wherefore
Ant. Why first for flowting me, and then wherefore,
for vrging it the second time to me
S.Dro. Was there euer anie man thus beaten out of season, when in the why and the wherefore, is neither rime nor reason. Well sir, I thanke you
Ant. Thanke me sir, for what?
S.Dro. Marry sir, for this something that you gaue me
for nothing
Ant. Ile make you amends next, to giue you nothing
for something. But say sir, is it dinner time?
S.Dro. No sir, I thinke the meat wants that I haue
Ant. In good time sir: what's that?
S.Dro. Basting
Ant. Well sir, then 'twill be drie
S.Dro. If it be sir, I pray you eat none of it
Ant. Your reason?
S.Dro. Lest it make you chollericke, and purchase me
another drie basting
Ant. Well sir, learne to iest in good time, there's a
time for all things
S.Dro. I durst haue denied that before you were so
chollericke
Anti. By what rule sir?
S.Dro. Marry sir, by a rule as plaine as the plaine bald
pate of Father time himselfe
Ant. Let's heare it
S.Dro. There's no time for a man to recouer his haire
that growes bald by nature
Ant. May he not doe it by fine and recouerie?
S.Dro. Yes, to pay a fine for a perewig, and recouer
the lost haire of another man
Ant. Why, is Time such a niggard of haire, being (as it is) so plentifull an excrement? S.Dro. Because it is a blessing that hee bestowes on beasts, and what he hath scanted them in haire, hee hath giuen them in wit
Ant. Why, but theres manie a man hath more haire
then wit
S.Dro. Not a man of those but he hath the wit to lose
his haire
Ant. Why thou didst conclude hairy men plain dealers
without wit
S.Dro. The plainer dealer, the sooner lost; yet he looseth
it in a kinde of iollitie
An. For what reason
S.Dro. For two, and sound ones to
An. Nay not sound I pray you
S.Dro. Sure ones then
An. Nay, not sure in a thing falsing
S.Dro. Certaine ones then
An. Name them
S.Dro. The one to saue the money that he spends in trying: the other, that at dinner they should not drop in his porrage
An. You would all this time haue prou'd, there is no
time for all things
S.Dro. Marry and did sir: namely, in no time to recouer
haire lost by Nature
An. But your reason was not substantiall, why there
is no time to recouer
S.Dro. Thus I mend it: Time himselfe is bald, and
therefore to the worlds end, will haue bald followers
An. I knew 'twould be a bald conclusion: but soft,
who wafts vs yonder.
Enter Adriana and Luciana.
Adri. I, I, Antipholus, looke strange and frowne,
Some other Mistresse hath thy sweet aspects:
I am not Adriana, nor thy wife.
The time was once, when thou vn-vrg'd wouldst vow,
That neuer words were musicke to thine eare,
That neuer obiect pleasing in thine eye,
That neuer touch well welcome to thy hand,
That neuer meat sweet-sauour'd in thy taste,
Vnlesse I spake, or look'd, or touch'd, or caru'd to thee.
How comes it now, my Husband, oh how comes it,
That thou art then estranged from thy selfe?
Thy selfe I call it, being strange to me:
That vndiuidable Incorporate
Am better then thy deere selfes better part.
Ah doe not teare away thy selfe from me;
For know my loue: as easie maist thou fall
A drop of water in the breaking gulfe,
And take vnmingled thence that drop againe
Without addition or diminishing,
As take from me thy selfe, and not me too.
How deerely would it touch thee to the quicke,
Shouldst thou but heare I were licencious?
And that this body consecrate to thee,
By Ruffian Lust should be contaminate?
Wouldst thou not spit at me, and spurne at me,
And hurle the name of husband in my face,
And teare the stain'd skin of my Harlot brow,
And from my false hand cut the wedding ring,
And breake it with a deepe-diuorcing vow?
I know thou canst, and therefore see thou doe it.
I am possest with an adulterate blot,
My bloud is mingled with the crime of lust:
For if we two be one, and thou play false,
I doe digest the poison of thy flesh,
Being strumpeted by thy contagion:
Keepe then faire league and truce with thy true bed,
I liue distain'd, thou vndishonoured
Antip. Plead you to me faire dame? I know you not:
In Ephesus I am but two houres old,
As strange vnto your towne, as to your talke,
Who euery word by all my wit being scan'd,
Wants wit in all, one word to vnderstand
Luci. Fie brother, how the world is chang'd with you:
When were you wont to vse my sister thus?
She sent for you by Dromio home to dinner
Ant. By Dromio?
Drom. By me
Adr. By thee, and this thou didst returne from him.
That he did buffet thee, and in his blowes,
Denied my house for his, me for his wife
Ant. Did you conuerse sir with this gentlewoman:
What is the course and drift of your compact?
S.Dro. I sir? I neuer saw her till this time
Ant. Villaine thou liest, for euen her verie words,
Didst thou deliuer to me on the Mart
S.Dro. I neuer spake with her in all my life
Ant. How can she thus then call vs by our names?
Vnlesse it be by inspiration
Adri. How ill agrees it with your grauitie,
To counterfeit thus grosely with your slaue,
Abetting him to thwart me in my moode;
Be it my wrong, you are from me exempt,
But wrong not that wrong with a more contempt.
Come I will fasten on this sleeue of thine:
Thou art an Elme my husband, I a Vine:
Whose weaknesse married to thy stranger state,
Makes me with thy strength to communicate:
If ought possesse thee from me, it is drosse,
Vsurping Iuie, Brier, or idle Mosse,
Who all for want of pruning, with intrusion,
Infect thy sap, and liue on thy confusion
Ant. To mee shee speakes, shee moues mee for her
theame;
What, was I married to her in my dreame?
Or sleepe I now, and thinke I heare all this?
What error driues our eies and eares amisse?
Vntill I know this sure vncertaintie,
Ile entertaine the free'd fallacie
Luc. Dromio, goe bid the seruants spred for dinner
S.Dro. Oh for my beads, I crosse me for a sinner.
This is the Fairie land, oh spight of spights,
We talke with Goblins, Owles and Sprights;
If we obay them not, this will insue:
They'll sucke our breath, or pinch vs blacke and blew
Luc. Why prat'st thou to thy selfe, and answer'st not?
Dromio, thou Dromio, thou snaile, thou slug, thou sot
S.Dro. I am transformed Master, am I not?
Ant. I thinke thou art in minde, and so am I
S.Dro. Nay Master, both in minde, and in my shape
Ant. Thou hast thine owne forme
S.Dro. No, I am an Ape
Luc. If thou art chang'd to ought, 'tis to an Asse
S.Dro. 'Tis true she rides me, and I long for grasse.
'Tis so, I am an Asse, else it could neuer be,
But I should know her as well as she knowes me
Adr. Come, come, no longer will I be a foole,
To put the finger in the eie and weepe;
Whil'st man and Master laughes my woes to scorne:
Come sir to dinner, Dromio keepe the gate:
Husband Ile dine aboue with you to day,
And shriue you of a thousand idle prankes:
Sirra, if any aske you for your Master,
Say he dines forth, and let no creature enter:
Come sister, Dromio play the Porter well
Ant. Am I in earth, in heauen, or in hell?
Sleeping or waking, mad or well aduisde:
Knowne vnto these, and to my selfe disguisde:
Ile say as they say, and perseuer so:
And in this mist at all aduentures go
S.Dro. Master, shall I be Porter at the gate?
Adr. I, and let none enter, least I breake your pate
Luc. Come, come, Antipholus, we dine to late.
Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.
Enter Antipholus of Ephesus, his man Dromio, Angelo the
Goldsmith, and
Balthaser the Merchant.
E.Anti. Good signior Angelo you must excuse vs all,
My wife is shrewish when I keepe not howres;
Say that I lingerd with you at your shop
To see the making of her Carkanet,
And that to morrow you will bring it home.
But here's a villaine that would face me downe
He met me on the Mart, and that I beat him,
And charg'd him with a thousand markes in gold,
And that I did denie my wife and house;
Thou drunkard thou, what didst thou meane by this?
E.Dro. Say what you wil sir, but I know what I know,
That you beat me at the Mart I haue your hand to show;
If y skin were parchment, & y blows you gaue were ink,
Your owne hand-writing would tell you what I thinke
E.Ant. I thinke thou art an asse
E.Dro. Marry so it doth appeare
By the wrongs I suffer, and the blowes I beare,
I should kicke being kickt, and being at that passe,
You would keepe from my heeles, and beware of an asse
E.An. Y'are sad signior Balthazar, pray God our cheer
May answer my good will, and your good welcom here
Bal. I hold your dainties cheap sir, & your welcom deer
E.An. Oh signior Balthazar, either at flesh or fish,
A table full of welcome, makes scarce one dainty dish
Bal. Good meat sir is co[m]mon that euery churle affords
Anti. And welcome more common, for thats nothing
but words
Bal. Small cheere and great welcome, makes a merrie
feast
Anti. I, to a niggardly Host, and more sparing guest:
But though my cates be meane, take them in good part,
Better cheere may you haue, but not with better hart.
But soft, my doore is lockt; goe bid them let vs in
E.Dro. Maud, Briget, Marian, Cisley, Gillian, Ginn
S.Dro. Mome, Malthorse, Capon, Coxcombe, Idiot,
Patch,
Either get thee from the dore, or sit downe at the hatch:
Dost thou coniure for wenches, that y calst for such store,
When one is one too many, goe get thee from the dore
E.Dro. What patch is made our Porter? my Master
stayes in the street
S.Dro. Let him walke from whence he came, lest hee
catch cold on's feet
E.Ant. Who talks within there? hoa, open the dore
S.Dro. Right sir, Ile tell you when, and you'll tell
me wherefore
Ant. Wherefore? for my dinner: I haue not din'd to
day
S.Dro. Nor to day here you must not come againe
when you may
Anti. What art thou that keep'st mee out from the
howse I owe?
S.Dro. The Porter for this time Sir, and my name is
Dromio
E.Dro. O villaine, thou hast stolne both mine office
and my name,
The one nere got me credit, the other mickle blame:
If thou hadst beene Dromio to day in my place,
Thou wouldst haue chang'd thy face for a name, or thy
name for an asse.
Enter Luce.
Luce. What a coile is there Dromio? who are those
at the gate?
E.Dro. Let my Master in Luce
Luce. Faith no, hee comes too late, and so tell your
Master
E.Dro. O Lord I must laugh, haue at you with a Prouerbe,
Shall I set in my staffe
Luce. Haue at you with another, that's when? can
you tell?
S.Dro. If thy name be called Luce, Luce thou hast answer'd
him well
Anti. Doe you heare you minion, you'll let vs in I
hope?
Luce. I thought to haue askt you
S.Dro. And you said no
E.Dro. So come helpe, well strooke, there was blow
for blow
Anti. Thou baggage let me in
Luce. Can you tell for whose sake?
E.Drom. Master, knocke the doore hard
Luce. Let him knocke till it ake
Anti. You'll crie for this minion, if I beat the doore
downe
Luce. What needs all that, and a paire of stocks in the
towne?
Enter Adriana.
Adr. Who is that at the doore y keeps all this noise?
S.Dro. By my troth your towne is troubled with vnruly
boies
Anti. Are you there Wife? you might haue come
before
Adri. Your wife sir knaue? go get you from the dore
E.Dro. If you went in paine Master, this knaue wold
goe sore
Angelo. Heere is neither cheere sir, nor welcome, we
would faine haue either
Baltz. In debating which was best, wee shall part
with neither
E.Dro. They stand at the doore, Master, bid them
welcome hither
Anti. There is something in the winde, that we cannot
get in
E.Dro. You would say so Master, if your garments
were thin.
Your cake here is warme within: you stand here in the
cold.
It would make a man mad as a Bucke to be so bought
and sold
Ant. Go fetch me something, Ile break ope the gate
S.Dro. Breake any breaking here, and Ile breake your knaues pate
E.Dro. A man may breake a word with your sir, and words are but winde: I and breake it in your face, so he break it not behinde
S.Dro. It seemes thou want'st breaking, out vpon thee
hinde
E.Dro. Here's too much out vpon thee, I pray thee let
me in
S.Dro. I, when fowles haue no feathers, and fish haue
no fin
Ant. Well, Ile breake in: go borrow me a crow
E.Dro. A crow without feather, Master meane you so;
For a fish without a finne, ther's a fowle without a fether,
If a crow help vs in sirra, wee'll plucke a crow together
Ant. Go, get thee gon, fetch me an iron Crow
Balth. Haue patience sir, oh let it not be so,
Heerein you warre against your reputation,
And draw within the compasse of suspect
Th' vnuiolated honor of your wife.
Once this your long experience of your wisedome,
Her sober vertue, yeares, and modestie,
Plead on your part some cause to you vnknowne;
And doubt not sir, but she will well excuse
Why at this time the dores are made against you.
Be rul'd by me, depart in patience,
And let vs to the Tyger all to dinner,
And about euening come your selfe alone,
To know the reason of this strange restraint:
If by strong hand you offer to breake in
Now in the stirring passage of the day,
A vulgar comment will be made of it;
And that supposed by the common rowt
Against your yet vngalled estimation,
That may with foule intrusion enter in,
And dwell vpon your graue when you are dead;
For slander liues vpon succession:
For euer hows'd, where it gets possession
Anti. You haue preuail'd, I will depart in quiet,
And in despight of mirth meane to be merrie:
I know a wench of excellent discourse,
Prettie and wittie; wilde, and yet too gentle;
There will we dine: this woman that I meane
My wife (but I protest without desert)
Hath oftentimes vpbraided me withall:
To her will we to dinner, get you home
And fetch the chaine, by this I know 'tis made,
Bring it I pray you to the Porpentine,
For there's the house: That chaine will I bestow
(Be it for nothing but to spight my wife)
Vpon mine hostesse there, good sir make haste:
Since mine owne doores refuse to entertaine me,
Ile knocke else-where, to see if they'll disdaine me
Ang. Ile meet you at that place some houre hence
Anti. Do so, this iest shall cost me some expence.
Exeunt.
Enter Iuliana, with Antipholus of Siracusia.
Iulia. And may it be that you haue quite forgot
A husbands office? shall Antipholus
Euen in the spring of Loue, thy Loue-springs rot?
Shall loue in buildings grow so ruinate?
If you did wed my sister for her wealth,
Then for her wealths-sake vse her with more kindnesse:
Or if you like else-where doe it by stealth,
Muffle your false loue with some shew of blindnesse:
Let not my sister read it in your eye:
Be not thy tongue thy owne shames Orator:
Looke sweet, speake faire, become disloyaltie:
Apparell vice like vertues harbenger:
Beare a faire presence, though your heart be tainted,
Teach sinne the carriage of a holy Saint,
Be secret false: what need she be acquainted?
What simple thiefe brags of his owne attaine?
'Tis double wrong to truant with your bed,
And let her read it in thy lookes at boord:
Shame hath a bastard fame, well managed,
Ill deeds is doubled with an euill word:
Alas poore women, make vs not beleeue
(Being compact of credit) that you loue vs,
Though others haue the arme, shew vs the sleeue:
We in your motion turne, and you may moue vs.
Then gentle brother get you in againe;
Comfort my sister, cheere her, call her wise;
'Tis holy sport to be a little vaine,
When the sweet breath of flatterie conquers strife
S.Anti. Sweete Mistris, what your name is else I
know not;
Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine:
Lesse in your knowledge, and your grace you show not,
Then our earths wonder, more then earth diuine.
Teach me deere creature how to thinke and speake:
Lay open to my earthie grosse conceit:
Smothred in errors, feeble, shallow, weake,
The foulded meaning of your words deceit:
Against my soules pure truth, why labour you,
To make it wander in an vnknowne field?
Are you a god? would you create me new?
Transforme me then, and to your powre Ile yeeld.
But if that I am I, then well I know,
Your weeping sister is no wife of mine,
Nor to her bed no homage doe I owe:
Farre more, farre more, to you doe I decline:
Oh traine me not sweet Mermaide with thy note,
To drowne me in thy sister floud of teares:
Sing Siren for thy selfe, and I will dote:
Spread ore the siluer waues thy golden haires;
And as a bud Ile take thee, and there lie:
And in that glorious supposition thinke,
He gaines by death, that hath such meanes to die:
Let Loue, being light, be drowned if she sinke
Luc. What are you mad, that you doe reason so?
Ant. Not mad, but mated, how I doe not know
Luc. It is a fault that springeth from your eie
Ant. For gazing on your beames faire sun being by
Luc. Gaze when you should, and that will cleere your sight
Ant. As good to winke sweet loue, as looke on night
Luc. Why call you me loue? Call my sister so
Ant. Thy sisters sister
Luc. That's my sister
Ant. No: it is thy selfe, mine owne selfes better part:
Mine eies cleere eie, my deere hearts deerer heart;
My foode, my fortune, and my sweet hopes aime;
My sole earths heauen, and my heauens claime
Luc. All this my sister is, or else should be
Ant. Call thy selfe sister sweet, for I am thee:
Thee will I loue, and with thee lead my life;
Thou hast no husband yet, nor I no wife:
Giue me thy hand
Luc. Oh soft sir, hold you still:
Ile fetch my sister to get her good will.
Enter.
Enter Dromio, Siracusia.
Ant. Why how now Dromio, where run'st thou so
fast?
S.Dro. Doe you know me sir? Am I Dromio? Am I
your man? Am I my selfe?
Ant. Thou art Dromio, thou art my man, thou art
thy selfe
Dro. I am an asse, I am a womans man, and besides
my selfe
Ant. What womans man? and how besides thy
selfe?
Dro. Marrie sir, besides my selfe, I am due to a woman:
One that claimes me, one that haunts me, one that will
haue me
Anti. What claime laies she to thee? Dro. Marry sir, such claime as you would lay to your horse, and she would haue me as a beast, not that I beeing a beast she would haue me, but that she being a verie beastly creature layes claime to me
Anti. What is she? Dro. A very reuerent body: I such a one, as a man may not speake of, without he say sir reuerence, I haue but leane lucke in the match, and yet is she a wondrous fat marriage
Anti. How dost thou meane a fat marriage? Dro. Marry sir, she's the Kitchin wench, & al grease, and I know not what vse to put her too, but to make a Lampe of her, and run from her by her owne light. I warrant, her ragges and the Tallow in them, will burne a Poland Winter: If she liues till doomesday, she'l burne a weeke longer then the whole World
Anti. What complexion is she of?
Dro. Swart like my shoo, but her face nothing like
so cleane kept: for why? she sweats a man may goe ouer-shooes
in the grime of it
Anti. That's a fault that water will mend
Dro. No sir, 'tis in graine, Noahs flood could not
do it
Anti. What's her name?
Dro. Nell Sir: but her name is three quarters, that's
an Ell and three quarters, will not measure her from hip
to hip
Anti. Then she beares some bredth?
Dro. No longer from head to foot, then from hippe
to hippe: she is sphericall, like a globe: I could find out
Countries in her
Anti. In what part of her body stands Ireland?
Dro. Marry sir in her buttockes, I found it out by
the bogges
Ant. Where Scotland?
Dro. I found it by the barrennesse, hard in the palme
of the hand
Ant. Where France?
Dro. In her forhead, arm'd and reuerted, making
warre against her heire
Ant. Where England?
Dro. I look'd for the chalkle Cliffes, but I could find
no whitenesse in them. But I guesse, it stood in her chin
by the salt rheume that ranne betweene France, and it
Ant. Where Spaine?
Dro. Faith I saw it not: but I felt it hot in her breth
Ant. Where America, the Indies? Dro. Oh sir, vpon her nose, all ore embellished with Rubies, Carbuncles, Saphires, declining their rich Aspect to the hot breath of Spaine, who sent whole Armadoes of Carrects to be ballast at her nose
Anti. Where stood Belgia, the Netherlands? Dro. Oh sir, I did not looke so low. To conclude, this drudge or Diuiner layd claime to mee, call'd mee Dromio, swore I was assur'd to her, told me what priuie markes I had about mee, as the marke of my shoulder, the Mole in my necke, the great Wart on my left arme, that I amaz'd ranne from her as a witch. And I thinke, if my brest had not beene made of faith, and my heart of steele, she had transform'd me to a Curtull dog, & made me turne i'th wheele
Anti. Go hie thee presently, post to the rode,
And if the winde blow any way from shore,
I will not harbour in this Towne to night.
If any Barke put forth, come to the Mart,
Where I will walke till thou returne to me:
If euerie one knowes vs, and we know none,
'Tis time I thinke to trudge, packe, and be gone
Dro. As from a Beare a man would run for life,
So flie I from her that would be my wife.
Exit
Anti. There's none but Witches do inhabite heere,
And therefore 'tis hie time that I were hence:
She that doth call me husband, euen my soule
Doth for a wife abhorre. But her faire sister
Possest with such a gentle soueraigne grace,
Of such inchanting presence and discourse,
Hath almost made me Traitor to my selfe:
But least my selfe be guilty to selfe wrong,
Ile stop mine eares against the Mermaids song.
Enter Angelo with the Chaine.
Ang. Mr Antipholus
Anti. I that's my name
Ang. I know it well sir, loe here's the chaine,
I thought to haue tane you at the Porpentine,
The chaine vnfinish'd made me stay thus long
Anti. What is your will that I shal do with this?
Ang. What please your selfe sir: I haue made it for
you
Anti. Made it for me sir, I bespoke it not
Ang. Not once, nor twice, but twentie times you
haue:
Go home with it, and please your Wife withall,
And soone at supper time Ile visit you,
And then receiue my money for the chaine
Anti. I pray you sir receiue the money now.
For feare you ne're see chaine, nor mony more
Ang. You are a merry man sir, fare you well.
Enter.
Ant. What I should thinke of this, I cannot tell:
But this I thinke, there's no man is so vaine,
That would refuse so faire an offer'd Chaine.
I see a man heere needs not liue by shifts,
When in the streets he meetes such Golden gifts:
Ile to the Mart, and there for Dromio stay,
If any ship put out, then straight away.
Enter.
Actus Quartus. Scoena Prima.
Enter a Merchant, Goldsmith, and an Officer.
Mar. You know since Pentecost the sum is due,
And since I haue not much importun'd you,
Nor now I had not, but that I am bound
To Persia, and want Gilders for my voyage:
Therefore make present satisfaction,
Or Ile attach you by this Officer
Gold. Euen iust the sum that I do owe to you,
Is growing to me by Antipholus,
And in the instant that I met with you,
He had of me a Chaine, at fiue a clocke
I shall receiue the money for the same:
Pleaseth you walke with me downe to his house,
I will discharge my bond, and thanke you too.
Enter Antipholus Ephes.Dromio from the Courtizans.
Offi. That labour may you saue: See where he comes
Ant. While I go to the Goldsmiths house, go thou
And buy a ropes end, that will I bestow
Among my wife, and their confederates,
For locking me out of my doores by day:
But soft I see the Goldsmith; get thee gone,
Buy thou a rope, and bring it home to me
Dro. I buy a thousand pound a yeare, I buy a rope.
Exit Dromio
Eph.Ant. A man is well holpe vp that trusts to you,
I promised your presence, and the Chaine,
But neither Chaine nor Goldsmith came to me:
Belike you thought our loue would last too long
If it were chain'd together: and therefore came not
Gold. Sauing your merrie humor: here's the note
How much your Chaine weighs to the vtmost charect,
The finenesse of the Gold, and chargefull fashion,
Which doth amount to three odde Duckets more
Then I stand debted to this Gentleman,
I pray you see him presently discharg'd,
For he is bound to Sea, and stayes but for it
Anti. I am not furnish'd with the present monie:
Besides I haue some businesse in the towne,
Good Signior take the stranger to my house,
And with you take the Chaine, and bid my wife
Disburse the summe, on the receit thereof,
Perchance I will be there as soone as you
Gold. Then you will bring the Chaine to her your
selfe
Anti. No beare it with you, least I come not time enough
Gold. Well sir, I will? Haue you the Chaine about
you?
Ant. And if I haue not sir, I hope you haue:
Or else you may returne without your money
Gold. Nay come I pray you sir, giue me the Chaine:
Both winde and tide stayes for this Gentleman,
And I too blame haue held him heere too long
Anti. Good Lord, you vse this dalliance to excuse
Your breach of promise to the Porpentine,
I should haue chid you for not bringing it,
But like a shrew you first begin to brawle
Mar. The houre steales on, I pray you sir dispatch
Gold. You heare how he importunes me, the Chaine
Ant. Why giue it to my wife, and fetch your mony
Gold. Come, come, you know I gaue it you euen now.
Either send the Chaine, or send me by some token
Ant. Fie, now you run this humor out of breath,
Come where's the Chaine, I pray you let me see it
Mar. My businesse cannot brooke this dalliance,
Good sir say, whe'r you'l answer me, or no:
If not, Ile leaue him to the Officer
Ant. I answer you? What should I answer you
Gold. The monie that you owe me for the Chaine
Ant. I owe you none, till I receiue the Chaine
Gold. You know I gaue it you halfe an houre since
Ant. You gaue me none, you wrong mee much to
say so
Gold. You wrong me more sir in denying it.
Consider how it stands vpon my credit
Mar. Well Officer, arrest him at my suite
Offi. I do, and charge you in the Dukes name to obey
me
Gold. This touches me in reputation.
Either consent to pay this sum for me,
Or I attach you by this Officer
Ant. Consent to pay thee that I neuer had:
Arrest me foolish fellow if thou dar'st
Gold. Heere is thy fee, arrest him Officer.
I would not spare my brother in this case,
If he should scorne me so apparantly
Offic. I do arrest you sir, you heare the suite
Ant. I do obey thee, till I giue thee baile.
But sirrah, you shall buy this sport as deere,
As all the mettall in your shop will answer
Gold. Sir, sir, I shall haue Law in Ephesus,
To your notorious shame, I doubt it not.
Enter Dromio Sira. from the Bay.
Dro. Master, there's a Barke of Epidamium,
That staies but till her Owner comes aboord,
And then sir she beares away. Our fraughtage sir,
I haue conuei'd aboord, and I haue bought
The Oyle, the Balsamum, and Aqua-vitae.
The ship is in her trim, the merrie winde
Blowes faire from land: they stay for nought at all,
But for their Owner, Master, and your selfe
An. How now? a Madman? Why thou peeuish sheep
What ship of Epidamium staies for me
S.Dro. A ship you sent me too, to hier waftage
Ant. Thou drunken slaue, I sent thee for a rope,
And told thee to what purpose, and what end
S.Dro. You sent me for a ropes end as soone,
You sent me to the Bay sir, for a Barke
Ant. I will debate this matter at more leisure
And teach your eares to list me with more heede:
To Adriana Villaine hie thee straight:
Giue her this key, and tell her in the Deske
That's couer'd o're with Turkish Tapistrie,
There is a purse of Duckets, let her send it:
Tell her, I am arrested in the streete,
And that shall baile me: hie thee slaue, be gone,
On Officer to prison, till it come.
Exeunt.
S.Dromio. To Adriana, that is where we din'd,
Where Dowsabell did claime me for her husband,
She is too bigge I hope for me to compasse,
Thither I must, although against my will:
For seruants must their Masters mindes fulfill.
Exit
Enter Adriana and Luciana.
Adr. Ah Luciana, did he tempt thee so?
Might'st thou perceiue austeerely in his eie,
That he did plead in earnest, yea or no:
Look'd he or red or pale, or sad or merrily?
What obseruation mad'st thou in this case?
Oh, his hearts Meteors tilting in his face
Luc. First he deni'de you had in him no right
Adr. He meant he did me none: the more my spight
Luc. Then swore he that he was a stranger heere
Adr. And true he swore, though yet forsworne hee
were
Luc. Then pleaded I for you
Adr. And what said he?
Luc. That loue I begg'd for you, he begg'd of me
Adr. With what perswasion did he tempt thy loue?
Luc. With words, that in an honest suit might moue.
First, he did praise my beautie, then my speech
Adr. Did'st speake him faire?
Luc. Haue patience I beseech
Adr. I cannot, nor I will not hold me still.
My tongue, though not my heart, shall haue his will.
He is deformed, crooked, old, and sere,
Ill-fac'd, worse bodied, shapelesse euery where:
Vicious, vngentle, foolish, blunt, vnkinde,
Stigmaticall in making worse in minde
Luc. Who would be iealous then of such a one?
No euill lost is wail'd, when it is gone
Adr. Ah but I thinke him better then I say:
And yet would herein others eies were worse:
Farre from her nest the Lapwing cries away;
My heart praies for him, though my tongue doe curse.
Enter S.Dromio.
Dro. Here goe: the deske, the purse, sweet now make
haste
Luc. How hast thou lost thy breath?
S.Dro. By running fast
Adr. Where is thy Master Dromio? Is he well?
S.Dro. No, he's in Tartar limbo, worse then hell:
A diuell in an euerlasting garment hath him;
On whose hard heart is button'd vp with steele:
A Feind, a Fairie, pittilesse and ruffe:
A Wolfe, nay worse, a fellow all in buffe:
A back friend, a shoulder-clapper, one that counterma[n]ds
The passages of allies, creekes, and narrow lands:
A hound that runs Counter, and yet draws drifoot well,
One that before the Iudgme[n]t carries poore soules to hel
Adr. Why man, what is the matter?
S.Dro. I doe not know the matter, hee is rested on
the case
Adr. What is he arrested? tell me at whose suite? S.Dro. I know not at whose suite he is arested well; but is in a suite of buffe which rested him, that can I tell, will you send him Mistris redemption, the monie in his deske
Adr. Go fetch it Sister: this I wonder at.
Exit Luciana.
Thus he vnknowne to me should be in debt:
Tell me, was he arested on a band?
S.Dro. Not on a band, but on a stronger thing:
A chaine, a chaine, doe you not here it ring
Adria. What, the chaine?
S.Dro. No, no, the bell, 'tis time that I were gone:
It was two ere I left him, and now the clocke strikes one
Adr. The houres come backe, that did I neuer here
S.Dro. Oh yes, if any houre meete a Serieant, a turnes
backe for verie feare
Adri. As if time were in debt: how fondly do'st thou
reason?
S.Dro. Time is a verie bankerout, and owes more then
he's worth to season.
Nay, he's a theefe too: haue you not heard men say,
That time comes stealing on by night and day?
If I be in debt and theft, and a Serieant in the way,
Hath he not reason to turne backe an houre in a day?
Enter Luciana.
Adr. Go Dromio, there's the monie, beare it straight,
And bring thy Master home imediately.
Come sister, I am prest downe with conceit:
Conceit, my comfort and my iniurie.
Enter.
Enter Antipholus Siracusia.
There's not a man I meete but doth salute me
As if I were their well acquainted friend,
And euerie one doth call me by my name:
Some tender monie to me, some inuite me;
Some other giue me thankes for kindnesses;
Some offer me Commodities to buy.
Euen now a tailor cal'd me in his shop,
And show'd me Silkes that he had bought for me,
And therewithall tooke measure of my body.
Sure these are but imaginarie wiles,
And lapland Sorcerers inhabite here.
Enter Dromio. Sir.
S.Dro. Master, here's the gold you sent me for: what haue you got the picture of old Adam new apparel'd? Ant. What gold is this? What Adam do'st thou meane? S.Dro. Not that Adam that kept the Paradise: but that Adam that keepes the prison; hee that goes in the calues-skin, that was kil'd for the Prodigall: hee that came behinde you sir, like an euill angel, and bid you forsake your libertie
Ant. I vnderstand thee not
S.Dro. No? why 'tis a plaine case: he that went like a Base-Viole in a case of leather; the man sir, that when gentlemen are tired giues them a sob, and rests them: he sir, that takes pittie on decaied men, and giues them suites of durance: he that sets vp his rest to doe more exploits with his Mace, then a Moris Pike
Ant. What thou mean'st an officer? S.Dro. I sir, the Serieant of the Band: he that brings any man to answer it that breakes his Band: one that thinkes a man alwaies going to bed, and saies, God giue you good rest
Ant. Well sir, there rest in your foolerie: Is there any ships puts forth to night? may we be gone? S.Dro. Why sir, I brought you word an houre since, that the Barke Expedition put forth to night, and then were you hindred by the Serieant to tarry for the Hoy Delay: Here are the angels that you sent for to deliuer you
Ant. The fellow is distract, and so am I,
And here we wander in illusions:
Some blessed power deliuer vs from hence.
Enter a Curtizan.
Cur. Well met, well met, Master Antipholus:
I see sir you haue found the Gold-smith now:
Is that the chaine you promis'd me to day
Ant. Sathan auoide, I charge thee tempt me not
S.Dro. Master, is this Mistris Sathan?
Ant. It is the diuell
S.Dro. Nay, she is worse, she is the diuels dam: And here she comes in the habit of a light wench, and thereof comes, that the wenches say God dam me, That's as much to say, God make me a light wench: It is written, they appeare to men like angels of light, light is an effect of fire, and fire will burne: ergo, light wenches will burne, come not neere her
Cur. Your man and you are maruailous merrie sir.
Will you goe with me, wee'll mend our dinner here?
S.Dro. Master, if do expect spoon-meate, or bespeake
a long spoone
Ant. Why Dromio?
S.Dro. Marrie he must haue a long spoone that must
eate with the diuell
Ant. Auoid then fiend, what tel'st thou me of supping?
Thou art, as you are all a sorceresse:
I coniure thee to leaue me, and be gon
Cur. Giue me the ring of mine you had at dinner,
Or for my Diamond the Chaine you promis'd,
And Ile be gone sir, and not trouble you
S.Dro. Some diuels aske but the parings of ones naile, a rush, a haire, a drop of blood, a pin, a nut, a cherriestone: but she more couetous, wold haue a chaine: Master be wise, and if you giue it her, the diuell will shake her Chaine, and fright vs with it
Cur. I pray you sir my Ring, or else the Chaine,
I hope you do not meane to cheate me so?
Ant. Auant thou witch: Come Dromio let vs go
S.Dro. Flie pride saies the Pea-cocke, Mistris that
you know.
Enter.
Cur. Now out of doubt Antipholus is mad,
Else would he neuer so demeane himselfe,
A Ring he hath of mine worth fortie Duckets,
And for the same he promis'd me a Chaine,
Both one and other he denies me now:
The reason that I gather he is mad,
Besides this present instance of his rage,
Is a mad tale he told to day at dinner,
Of his owne doores being shut against his entrance.
Belike his wife acquainted with his fits,
On purpose shut the doores against his way:
My way is now to hie home to his house,
And tell his wife, that being Lunaticke,
He rush'd into my house, and tooke perforce
My Ring away. This course I fittest choose,
For fortie Duckets is too much to loose.
Enter Antipholus Ephes. with a Iailor.
An. Feare me not man, I will not breake away,
Ile giue thee ere I leaue thee so much money
To warrant thee as I am rested for.
My wife is in a wayward moode to day,
And will not lightly trust the Messenger,
That I should be attach'd in Ephesus,
I tell you 'twill sound harshly in her eares.
Enter Dromio Eph. with a ropes end.
Heere comes my Man, I thinke he brings the monie.
How now sir? Haue you that I sent you for?
E.Dro. Here's that I warrant you will pay them all
Anti. But where's the Money?
E.Dro. Why sir, I gaue the Monie for the Rope
Ant. Fiue hundred Duckets villaine for a rope?
E.Dro. Ile serue you sir fiue hundred at the rate
Ant. To what end did I bid thee hie thee home?
E.Dro. To a ropes end sir, and to that end am I return'd
Ant. And to that end sir, I will welcome you
Offi. Good sir be patient
E.Dro. Nay 'tis for me to be patient, I am in aduersitie
Offi. Good now hold thy tongue
E.Dro. Nay, rather perswade him to hold his hands
Anti. Thou whoreson senselesse Villaine
E.Dro. I would I were senselesse sir, that I might
not feele your blowes
Anti. Thou art sensible in nothing but blowes, and
so is an Asse
E.Dro. I am an Asse indeede, you may prooue it by my long eares. I haue serued him from the houre of my Natiuitie to this instant, and haue nothing at his hands for my seruice but blowes. When I am cold, he heates me with beating: when I am warme, he cooles me with beating: I am wak'd with it when I sleepe, rais'd with it when I sit, driuen out of doores with it when I goe from home, welcom'd home with it when I returne, nay I beare it on my shoulders, as a begger woont her brat: and I thinke when he hath lam'd me, I shall begge with it from doore to doore.
Enter Adriana, Luciana, Courtizan, and a Schoolemaster, call'd
Pinch.
Ant. Come goe along, my wife is comming yonder
E.Dro. Mistris respice finem, respect your end, or rather the prophesie like the Parrat, beware the ropes end
Anti. Wilt thou still talke?
Beats Dro.
Curt. How say you now? Is not your husband mad?
Adri. His inciuility confirmes no lesse:
Good Doctor Pinch, you are a Coniurer,
Establish him in his true sence againe,
And I will please you what you will demand
Luc. Alas how fiery, and how sharpe he lookes
Cur. Marke, how he trembles in his extasie
Pinch. Giue me your hand, and let mee feele your pulse
Ant. There is my hand, and let it feele your eare
Pinch. I charge thee Sathan, hous'd within this man,
To yeeld possession to my holie praiers,
And to thy state of darknesse hie thee straight,
I coniure thee by all the Saints in heauen
Anti. Peace doting wizard, peace; I am not mad
Adr. Oh that thou wer't not, poore distressed soule
Anti. You Minion you, are these your Customers?
Did this Companion with the saffron face
Reuell and feast it at my house to day,
Whil'st vpon me the guiltie doores were shut,
And I denied to enter in my house
Adr. O husband, God doth know you din'd at home
Where would you had remain'd vntill this time,
Free from these slanders, and this open shame
Anti. Din'd at home? Thou Villaine, what sayest
thou?
Dro. Sir sooth to say, you did not dine at home
Ant. Were not my doores lockt vp, and I shut out?
Dro. Perdie, your doores were lockt, and you shut
out
Anti. And did not she her selfe reuile me there?
Dro. Sans Fable, she her selfe reuil'd you there
Anti. Did not her Kitchen maide raile, taunt, and
scorne me?
Dro. Certis she did, the kitchin vestall scorn'd you
Ant. And did not I in rage depart from thence?
Dro. In veritie you did, my bones beares witnesse,
That since haue felt the vigor of his rage
Adr. Is't good to sooth him in these contraries?
Pinch. It is no shame, the fellow finds his vaine,
And yeelding to him, humors well his frensie
Ant. Thou hast subborn'd the Goldsmith to arrest
mee
Adr. Alas, I sent you Monie to redeeme you,
By Dromio heere, who came in hast for it
Dro. Monie by me? Heart and good will you might,
But surely Master not a ragge of Monie
Ant. Wentst not thou to her for a purse of Duckets
Adri. He came to me, and I deliuer'd it
Luci. And I am witnesse with her that she did:
Dro. God and the Rope-maker beare me witnesse,
That I was sent for nothing but a rope
Pinch. Mistris, both Man and Master is possest,
I know it by their pale and deadly lookes,
They must be bound and laide in some darke roome
Ant. Say wherefore didst thou locke me forth to day,
And why dost thou denie the bagge of gold?
Adr. I did not gentle husband locke thee forth
Dro. And gentle Mr I receiu'd no gold:
But I confesse sir, that we were lock'd out
Adr. Dissembling Villain, thou speak'st false in both
Ant. Dissembling harlot, thou art false in all,
And art confederate with a damned packe,
To make a loathsome abiect scorne of me:
But with these nailes, Ile plucke out these false eyes,
That would behold in me this shamefull sport.
Enter three or foure, and offer to binde him: Hee striues.
Adr. Oh binde him, binde him, let him not come
neere me
Pinch. More company, the fiend is strong within him
Luc. Aye me poore man, how pale and wan he looks
Ant. What will you murther me, thou Iailor thou?
I am thy prisoner, wilt thou suffer them to make a rescue?
Offi. Masters let him go: he is my prisoner, and you
shall not haue him
Pinch. Go binde this man, for he is franticke too
Adr. What wilt thou do, thou peeuish Officer?
Hast thou delight to see a wretched man
Do outrage and displeasure to himselfe?
Offi. He is my prisoner, if I let him go,
The debt he owes will be requir'd of me
Adr. I will discharge thee ere I go from thee,
Beare me forthwith vnto his Creditor,
And knowing how the debt growes I will pay it.
Good Master Doctor see him safe conuey'd
Home to my house, oh most vnhappy day
Ant. Oh most vnhappie strumpet
Dro. Master, I am heere entred in bond for you
Ant. Out on thee Villaine, wherefore dost thou mad
mee?
Dro. Will you be bound for nothing, be mad good
Master, cry the diuell
Luc. God helpe poore soules, how idlely doe they
talke
Adr. Go beare him hence, sister go you with me:
Say now, whose suite is he arrested at?
Exeunt. Manet Offic. Adri. Luci. Courtizan
Off. One Angelo a Goldsmith, do you know him?
Adr. I know the man: what is the summe he owes?
Off. Two hundred Duckets
Adr. Say, how growes it due
Off. Due for a Chaine your husband had of him
Adr. He did bespeake a Chain for me, but had it not
Cur. When as your husband all in rage to day
Came to my house, and tooke away my Ring,
The Ring I saw vpon his finger now,
Straight after did I meete him with a Chaine
Adr. It may be so, but I did neuer see it.
Come Iailor, bring me where the Goldsmith is,
I long to know the truth heereof at large.
Enter Antipholus Siracusia with his Rapier drawne, and Dromio
Sirac.
Luc. God for thy mercy, they are loose againe
Adr. And come with naked swords,
Let's call more helpe to haue them bound againe.
Runne all out.
Off. Away, they'l kill vs.
Exeunt. omnes, as fast as may be, frighted.
S.Ant. I see these Witches are affraid of swords
S.Dro. She that would be your wife, now ran from
you
Ant. Come to the Centaur, fetch our stuffe from
thence:
I long that we were safe and sound aboord
Dro. Faith stay heere this night, they will surely do vs no harme: you saw they speake vs faire, giue vs gold: me thinkes they are such a gentle Nation, that but for the Mountaine of mad flesh that claimes mariage of me, I could finde in my heart to stay heere still, and turne Witch
Ant. I will not stay to night for all the Towne,
Therefore away, to get our stuffe aboord.
Exeunt.
Actus Quintus. Scoena Prima.
Enter the Merchant and the Goldsmith.
Gold. I am sorry Sir that I haue hindred you,
But I protest he had the Chaine of me,
Though most dishonestly he doth denie it
Mar. How is the man esteem'd heere in the Citie?
Gold. Of very reuerent reputation sir,
Of credit infinite, highly belou'd,
Second to none that liues heere in the Citie:
His word might beare my wealth at any time
Mar. Speake softly, yonder as I thinke he walkes.
Enter Antipholus and Dromio againe.
Gold. 'Tis so: and that selfe chaine about his necke,
Which he forswore most monstrously to haue.
Good sir draw neere to me, Ile speake to him:
Signior Antipholus, I wonder much
That you would put me to this shame and trouble,
And not without some scandall to your selfe,
With circumstance and oaths, so to denie
This Chaine, which now you weare so openly.
Beside the charge, the shame, imprisonment,
You haue done wrong to this my honest friend,
Who but for staying on our Controuersie,
Had hoisted saile, and put to sea to day:
This Chaine you had of me, can you deny it?
Ant. I thinke I had, I neuer did deny it
Mar. Yes that you did sir, and forswore it too
Ant. Who heard me to denie it or forsweare it?
Mar. These eares of mine thou knowst did hear thee:
Fie on thee wretch, 'tis pitty that thou liu'st
To walke where any honest men resort
Ant. Thou art a Villaine to impeach me thus,
Ile proue mine honor, and mine honestie
Against thee presently, if thou dar'st stand:
Mar. I dare and do defie thee for a villaine.
They draw. Enter Adriana, Luciana, Courtezan, & others.
Adr. Hold, hurt him not for God sake, he is mad,
Some get within him, take his sword away:
Binde Dromio too, and beare them to my house
S.Dro. Runne master run, for Gods sake take a house,
This is some Priorie, in, or we are spoyl'd.
Exeunt. to the Priorie.
Enter Ladie Abbesse.
Ab. Be quiet people, wherefore throng you hither?
Adr. To fetch my poore distracted husband hence,
Let vs come in, that we may binde him fast,
And beare him home for his recouerie
Gold. I knew he was not in his perfect wits
Mar. I am sorry now that I did draw on him
Ab. How long hath this possession held the man
Adr. This weeke he hath beene heauie, sower sad,
And much different from the man he was:
But till this afternoone his passion
Ne're brake into extremity of rage
Ab. Hath he not lost much wealth by wrack of sea,
Buried some deere friend, hath not else his eye
Stray'd his affection in vnlawfull loue,
A sinne preuailing much in youthfull men,
Who giue their eies the liberty of gazing.
Which of these sorrowes is he subiect too?
Adr. To none of these, except it be the last,
Namely, some loue that drew him oft from home
Ab. You should for that haue reprehended him
Adr. Why so I did
Ab. I but not rough enough
Adr. As roughly as my modestie would let me
Ab. Haply in priuate
Adr. And in assemblies too
Ab. I, but not enough
Adr. It was the copie of our Conference.
In bed he slept not for my vrging it,
At boord he fed not for my vrging it:
Alone, it was the subiect of my Theame:
In company I often glanced it:
Still did I tell him, it was vilde and bad
Ab. And thereof came it, that the man was mad.
The venome clamors of a iealous woman,
Poisons more deadly then a mad dogges tooth.
It seemes his sleepes were hindred by thy railing,
And thereof comes it that his head is light.
Thou saist his meate was sawc'd with thy vpbraidings,
Vnquiet meales make ill digestions,
Thereof the raging fire of feauer bred,
And what's a Feauer, but a fit of madnesse?
Thou sayest his sports were hindred by thy bralles.
Sweet recreation barr'd, what doth ensue
But moodie and dull melancholly,
Kinsman to grim and comfortlesse dispaire,
And at her heeles a huge infectious troope
Of pale distemperatures, and foes to life?
In food, in sport, and life-preseruing rest
To be disturb'd, would mad or man, or beast:
The consequence is then, thy iealous fits
Hath scar'd thy husband from the vse of wits
Luc. She neuer reprehended him but mildely,
When he demean'd himselfe, rough, rude, and wildly,
Why beare you these rebukes, and answer not?
Adri. She did betray me to my owne reproofe,
Good people enter, and lay hold on him
Ab. No, not a creature enters in my house
Ad. Then let your seruants bring my husband forth
Ab. Neither: he tooke this place for sanctuary,
And it shall priuiledge him from your hands,
Till I haue brought him to his wits againe,
Or loose my labour in assaying it
Adr. I will attend my husband, be his nurse,
Diet his sicknesse, for it is my Office,
And will haue no atturney but my selfe,
And therefore let me haue him home with me
Ab. Be patient, for I will not let him stirre,
Till I haue vs'd the approoued meanes I haue,
With wholsome sirrups, drugges, and holy prayers
To make of him a formall man againe:
It is a branch and parcell of mine oath,
A charitable dutie of my order,
Therefore depart, and leaue him heere with me
Adr. I will not hence, and leaue my husband heere:
And ill it doth beseeme your holinesse
To separate the husband and the wife
Ab. Be quiet and depart, thou shalt not haue him
Luc. Complaine vnto the Duke of this indignity
Adr. Come go, I will fall prostrate at his feete,
And neuer rise vntill my teares and prayers
Haue won his grace to come in person hither,
And take perforce my husband from the Abbesse
Mar. By this I thinke the Diall points at fiue:
Anon I'me sure the Duke himselfe in person
Comes this way to the melancholly vale;
The place of depth, and sorrie execution,
Behinde the ditches of the Abbey heere
Gold. Vpon what cause?
Mar. To see a reuerent Siracusian Merchant,
Who put vnluckily into this Bay
Against the Lawes and Statutes of this Towne,
Beheaded publikely for his offence
Gold. See where they come, we wil behold his death
Luc. Kneele to the Duke before he passe the Abbey.
Enter the Duke of Ephesus, and the Merchant of Siracuse bare head, with the Headsman, & other Officers.
Duke. Yet once againe proclaime it publikely,
If any friend will pay the summe for him,
He shall not die, so much we tender him
Adr. Iustice most sacred Duke against the Abbesse
Duke. She is a vertuous and a reuerend Lady,
It cannot be that she hath done thee wrong
Adr. May it please your Grace, Antipholus my husba[n]d,
Who I made Lord of me, and all I had,
At your important Letters this ill day,
A most outragious fit of madnesse tooke him:
That desp'rately he hurried through the streete,
With him his bondman, all as mad as he,
Doing displeasure to the Citizens,
By rushing in their houses: bearing thence
Rings, Iewels, any thing his rage did like.
Once did I get him bound, and sent him home,
Whil'st to take order for the wrongs I went,
That heere and there his furie had committed,
Anon I wot not, by what strong escape
He broke from those that had the guard of him,
And with his mad attendant and himselfe,
Each one with irefull passion, with drawne swords
Met vs againe, and madly bent on vs
Chac'd vs away: till raising of more aide
We came againe to binde them: then they fled
Into this Abbey, whether we pursu'd them,
And heere the Abbesse shuts the gates on vs,
And will not suffer vs to fetch him out,
Nor send him forth, that we may beare him hence.
Therefore most gracious Duke with thy command,
Let him be brought forth, and borne hence for helpe
Duke. Long since thy husband seru'd me in my wars
And I to thee ingag'd a Princes word,
When thou didst make him Master of thy bed,
To do him all the grace and good I could.
Go some of you, knocke at the Abbey gate,
And bid the Lady Abbesse come to me:
I will determine this before I stirre.
Enter a Messenger.
Oh Mistris, Mistris, shift and saue your selfe,
My Master and his man are both broke loose,
Beaten the Maids a-row, and bound the Doctor,
Whose beard they haue sindg'd off with brands of fire,
And euer as it blaz'd, they threw on him
Great pailes of puddled myre to quench the haire;
My Mr preaches patience to him, and the while
His man with Cizers nickes him like a foole:
And sure (vnlesse you send some present helpe)
Betweene them they will kill the Coniurer
Adr. Peace foole, thy Master and his man are here,
And that is false thou dost report to vs
Mess. Mistris, vpon my life I tel you true,
I haue not breath'd almost since I did see it.
He cries for you, and vowes if he can take you,
To scorch your face, and to disfigure you:
Cry within.
Harke, harke, I heare him Mistris: flie, be gone
Duke. Come stand by me, feare nothing: guard with
Halberds
Adr. Ay me, it is my husband: witnesse you,
That he is borne about inuisible,
Euen now we hous'd him in the Abbey heere.
And now he's there, past thought of humane reason.
Enter Antipholus, and E.Dromio of Ephesus.
E.Ant. Iustice most gracious Duke, oh grant me iustice,
Euen for the seruice that long since I did thee,
When I bestrid thee in the warres, and tooke
Deepe scarres to saue thy life; euen for the blood
That then I lost for thee, now grant me iustice
Mar.Fat. Vnlesse the feare of death doth make me
dote, I see my sonne Antipholus and Dromio
E.Ant. Iustice (sweet Prince) against y Woman there:
She whom thou gau'st to me to be my wife;
That hath abused and dishonored me,
Euen in the strength and height of iniurie:
Beyond imagination is the wrong
That she this day hath shamelesse throwne on me
Duke. Discouer how, and thou shalt finde me iust
E.Ant. This day (great Duke) she shut the doores
vpon me,
While she with Harlots feasted in my house
Duke. A greeuous fault: say woman, didst thou so?
Adr. No my good Lord. My selfe, he, and my sister,
To day did dine together: so befall my soule,
As this is false he burthens me withall
Luc. Nere may I looke on day, nor sleepe on night,
But she tels to your Highnesse simple truth
Gold. O periur'd woman! They are both forsworne,
In this the Madman iustly chargeth them
E.Ant. My Liege, I am aduised what I say,
Neither disturbed with the effect of Wine,
Nor headie-rash prouoak'd with raging ire,
Albeit my wrongs might make one wiser mad.
This woman lock'd me out this day from dinner;
That Goldsmith there, were he not pack'd with her,
Could witnesse it: for he was with me then,
Who parted with me to go fetch a Chaine,
Promising to bring it to the Porpentine,
Where Balthasar and I did dine together.
Our dinner done, and he not comming thither,
I went to seeke him. In the street I met him,
And in his companie that Gentleman.
There did this periur'd Goldsmith sweare me downe,
That I this day of him receiu'd the Chaine,
Which God he knowes, I saw not. For the which,
He did arrest me with an Officer.
I did obey, and sent my Pesant home
For certaine Duckets: he with none return'd.
Then fairely I bespoke the Officer
To go in person with me to my house.
By'th' way, we met my wife, her sister, and a rabble more
Of vilde Confederates: Along with them
They brought one Pinch, a hungry leane-fac'd Villaine;
A meere Anatomie, a Mountebanke,
A thred-bare Iugler, and a Fortune-teller,
A needy-hollow-ey'd-sharpe-looking-wretch;
A liuing dead man. This pernicious slaue,
Forsooth tooke on him as a Coniurer:
And gazing in mine eyes, feeling my pulse,
And with no-face (as 'twere) out-facing me,
Cries out, I was possest. Then altogether
They fell vpon me, bound me, bore me thence,
And in a darke and dankish vault at home
There left me and my man, both bound together,
Till gnawing with my teeth my bonds in sunder,
I gain'd my freedome; and immediately
Ran hether to your Grace, whom I beseech
To giue me ample satisfaction
For these deepe shames, and great indignities
Gold. My Lord, in truth, thus far I witnes with him:
That he din'd not at home, but was lock'd out
Duke. But had he such a Chaine of thee, or no?
Gold. He had my Lord, and when he ran in heere,
These people saw the Chaine about his necke
Mar. Besides, I will be sworne these eares of mine,
Heard you confesse you had the Chaine of him,
After you first forswore it on the Mart,
And thereupon I drew my sword on you:
And then you fled into this Abbey heere,
From whence I thinke you are come by Miracle
E.Ant. I neuer came within these Abbey wals,
Nor euer didst thou draw thy sword on me:
I neuer saw the Chaine, so helpe me heauen:
And this is false you burthen me withall
Duke. Why what an intricate impeach is this?
I thinke you all haue drunke of Circes cup:
If heere you hous'd him, heere he would haue bin.
If he were mad, he would not pleade so coldly:
You say he din'd at home, the Goldsmith heere
Denies that saying. Sirra, what say you?
E.Dro. Sir he din'de with her there, at the Porpentine
Cur. He did, and from my finger snacht that Ring
E.Anti. Tis true (my Liege) this Ring I had of her
Duke. Saw'st thou him enter at the Abbey heere?
Curt. As sure (my Liege) as I do see your Grace
Duke. Why this is straunge: Go call the Abbesse hither.
I thinke you are all mated, or starke mad.
Exit one to the Abbesse.
Fa. Most mighty Duke, vouchsafe me speak a word:
Haply I see a friend will saue my life,
And pay the sum that may deliuer me
Duke. Speake freely Siracusian what thou wilt
Fath. Is not your name sir call'd Antipholus?
And is not that your bondman Dromio?
E.Dro. Within this houre I was his bondman sir,
But he I thanke him gnaw'd in two my cords,
Now am I Dromio, and his man, vnbound
Fath. I am sure you both of you remember me
Dro. Our selues we do remember sir by you:
For lately we were bound as you are now.
You are not Pinches patient, are you sir?
Father. Why looke you strange on me? you know
me well
E.Ant. I neuer saw you in my life till now
Fa. Oh! griefe hath chang'd me since you saw me last,
And carefull houres with times deformed hand,
Haue written strange defeatures in my face:
But tell me yet, dost thou not know my voice?
Ant. Neither
Fat. Dromio, nor thou?
Dro. No trust me sir, nor I
Fa. I am sure thou dost?
E.Dromio. I sir, but I am sure I do not, and whatsoeuer
a man denies, you are now bound to beleeue him
Fath. Not know my voice, oh times extremity
Hast thou so crack'd and splitted my poore tongue
In seuen short yeares, that heere my onely sonne
Knowes not my feeble key of vntun'd cares?
Though now this grained face of mine be hid
In sap-consuming Winters drizled snow,
And all the Conduits of my blood froze vp:
Yet hath my night of life some memorie:
My wasting lampes some fading glimmer left;
My dull deafe eares a little vse to heare:
All these old witnesses, I cannot erre.
Tell me, thou art my sonne Antipholus
Ant. I neuer saw my Father in my life
Fa. But seuen yeares since, in Siracusa boy
Thou know'st we parted, but perhaps my sonne,
Thou sham'st to acknowledge me in miserie
Ant. The Duke, and all that know me in the City,
Can witnesse with me that it is not so.
I ne're saw Siracusa in my life
Duke. I tell thee Siracusian, twentie yeares
Haue I bin Patron to Antipholus,
During which time, he ne're saw Siracusa:
I see thy age and dangers make thee dote.
Enter the Abbesse with Antipholus Siracusa, and Dromio Sir.
Abbesse. Most mightie Duke, behold a man much wrong'd.
All gather to see them.
Adr. I see two husbands, or mine eyes deceiue me
Duke. One of these men is genius to the other:
And so of these, which is the naturall man,
And which the spirit? Who deciphers them?
S.Dromio. I Sir am Dromio, command him away
E.Dro. I Sir am Dromio, pray let me stay
S.Ant. Egeon art thou not? or else his ghost
S.Drom. Oh my olde Master, who hath bound him
heere?
Abb. Who euer bound him, I will lose his bonds,
And gaine a husband by his libertie:
Speake olde Egeon, if thou bee'st the man
That hadst a wife once call'd Aemilia,
That bore thee at a burthen two faire sonnes?
Oh if thou bee'st the same Egeon, speake:
And speake vnto the same Aemilia
Duke. Why heere begins his Morning storie right:
These two Antipholus, these two so like,
And these two Dromio's, one in semblance:
Besides her vrging of her wracke at sea,
These are the parents to these children,
Which accidentally are met together
Fa. If I dreame not, thou art Aemilia,
If thou art she, tell me, where is that sonne
That floated with thee on the fatall rafte
Abb. By men of Epidamium, he, and I,
And the twin Dromio, all were taken vp;
But by and by, rude Fishermen of Corinth
By force tooke Dromio, and my sonne from them,
And me they left with those of Epidamium.
What then became of them, I cannot tell:
I, to this fortune that you see mee in
Duke. Antipholus thou cam'st from Corinth first
S.Ant. No sir, not I, I came from Siracuse
Duke. Stay, stand apart, I know not which is which
E.Ant. I came from Corinth my most gracious Lord
E.Dro. And I with him
E.Ant. Brought to this Town by that most famous
Warriour,
Duke Menaphon your most renowned Vnckle
Adr. Which of you two did dine with me to day?
S.Ant. I, gentle Mistris
Adr. And are not you my husband?
E.Ant. No, I say nay to that
S.Ant. And so do I, yet did she call me so:
And this faire Gentlewoman her sister heere
Did call me brother. What I told you then,
I hope I shall haue leisure to make good,
If this be not a dreame I see and heare
Goldsmith. That is the Chaine sir, which you had of
mee
S.Ant. I thinke it be sir, I denie it not
E.Ant. And you sir for this Chaine arrested me
Gold. I thinke I did sir, I deny it not
Adr. I sent you monie sir to be your baile
By Dromio, but I thinke he brought it not
E.Dro. No, none by me
S.Ant. This purse of Duckets I receiu'd from you,
And Dromio my man did bring them me:
I see we still did meete each others man,
And I was tane for him, and he for me,
And thereupon these errors are arose
E.Ant. These Duckets pawne I for my father heere
Duke. It shall not neede, thy father hath his life
Cur. Sir I must haue that Diamond from you
E.Ant. There take it, and much thanks for my good
cheere
Abb. Renowned Duke, vouchsafe to take the paines
To go with vs into the Abbey heere,
And heare at large discoursed all our fortunes,
And all that are assembled in this place:
That by this simpathized one daies error
Haue suffer'd wrong. Goe, keepe vs companie,
And we shall make full satisfaction.
Thirtie three yeares haue I but gone in trauaile
Of you my sonnes, and till this present houre
My heauie burthen are deliuered:
The Duke my husband, and my children both,
And you the Kalenders of their Natiuity,
Go to a Gossips feast, and go with mee,
After so long greefe such Natiuitie
Duke. With all my heart, Ile Gossip at this feast.
Exeunt. omnes. Manet the two Dromio's and two Brothers.
S.Dro. Mast[er]. shall I fetch your stuffe from shipbord?
E.An. Dromio, what stuffe of mine hast thou imbarkt
S.Dro. Your goods that lay at host sir in the Centaur
S.Ant. He speakes to me, I am your master Dromio.
Come go with vs, wee'l looke to that anon,
Embrace thy brother there, reioyce with him.
Exit
S.Dro. There is a fat friend at your masters house,
That kitchin'd me for you to day at dinner:
She now shall be my sister, not my wife,
E.D. Me thinks you are my glasse, & not my brother:
I see by you, I am a sweet-fac'd youth,
Will you walke in to see their gossipping?
S.Dro. Not I sir, you are my elder
E.Dro. That's a question, how shall we trie it
S.Dro. Wee'l draw Cuts for the Signior, till then,
lead thou first
E.Dro. Nay then thus:
We came into the world like brother and brother:
And now let's go hand in hand, not one before another.
Exeunt.
FINIS. The Comedie of Errors.
Much adoe about Nothing
Actus primus, Scena prima.
Enter Leonato Gouernour of Messina, Innogen his wife, Hero his daughter, and Beatrice his Neece, with a messenger.
Leonato. I learne in this Letter, that Don Peter of Arragon,
comes this night to Messina
Mess. He is very neere by this: he was not
three Leagues off when I left him
Leon. How many Gentlemen haue you lost in this
action?
Mess. But few of any sort, and none of name
Leon. A victorie is twice it selfe, when the atchieuer brings home full numbers: I finde heere, that Don Peter hath bestowed much honor on a yong Florentine, called Claudio
Mess. Much deseru'd on his part, and equally remembred by Don Pedro, he hath borne himselfe beyond the promise of his age, doing in the figure of a Lambe, the feats of a Lion, he hath indeede better bettred expectation, then you must expect of me to tell you how
Leo. He hath an Vnckle heere in Messina, wil be very much glad of it
Mess. I haue alreadie deliuered him letters, and there appeares much ioy in him, euen so much, that ioy could not shew it selfe modest enough, without a badg of bitternesse
Leo. Did he breake out into teares?
Mess. In great measure
Leo. A kinde ouerflow of kindnesse, there are no faces truer, then those that are so wash'd, how much better is it to weepe at ioy, then to ioy at weeping? Bea. I pray you, is Signior Mountanto return'd from the warres, or no? Mess. I know none of that name, Lady, there was none such in the armie of any sort
Leon. What is he that you aske for Neece?
Hero. My cousin meanes Signior Benedick of Padua
Mess. O he's return'd, and as pleasant as euer he was
Beat. He set vp his bils here in Messina, & challeng'd Cupid at the Flight: and my Vnckles foole reading the Challenge, subscrib'd for Cupid, and challeng'd him at the Burbolt. I pray you, how many hath hee kil'd and eaten in these warres? But how many hath he kil'd? for indeed, I promis'd to eate all of his killing
Leon. 'Faith Neece, you taxe Signior Benedicke too much, but hee'l be meete with you, I doubt it not
Mess. He hath done good seruice Lady in these wars
Beat. You had musty victuall, and he hath holpe to ease it: he's a very valiant Trencher-man, hee hath an excellent stomacke
Mess. And a good souldier too Lady
Beat. And a good souldier to a Lady. But what is he
to a Lord?
Mess. A Lord to a Lord, a man to a man, stuft with
all honourable vertues
Beat. It is so indeed, he is no lesse then a stuft man:
but for the stuffing well, we are all mortall
Leon. You must not (sir) mistake my Neece, there is a kind of merry war betwixt Signior Benedick, & her: they neuer meet, but there's a skirmish of wit between them
Bea. Alas, he gets nothing by that. In our last conflict, foure of his fiue wits went halting off, and now is the whole man gouern'd with one: so that if hee haue wit enough to keepe himselfe warme, let him beare it for a difference betweene himselfe and his horse: For it is all the wealth that he hath left, to be knowne a reasonable creature. Who is his companion now? He hath euery month a new sworne brother
Mess. Is't possible?
Beat. Very easily possible: he weares his faith but as
the fashion of his hat, it euer changes with y next block
Mess. I see (Lady) the Gentleman is not in your
bookes
Bea. No, and he were, I would burne my study. But
I pray you, who is his companion? Is there no young
squarer now, that will make a voyage with him to the
diuell?
Mess. He is most in the company of the right noble
Claudio
Beat. O Lord, he will hang vpon him like a disease: he is sooner caught then the pestilence, and the taker runs presently mad. God helpe the noble Claudio, if hee haue caught the Benedict, it will cost him a thousand pound ere he be cur'd
Mess. I will hold friends with you Lady
Bea. Do good friend
Leo. You'l ne're run mad Neece
Bea. No, not till a hot Ianuary
Mess. Don Pedro is approach'd.
Enter don Pedro, Claudio, Benedicke, Balthasar, and Iohn the bastard.
Pedro. Good Signior Leonato, you are come to meet your trouble: the fashion of the world is to auoid cost, and you encounter it
Leon. Neuer came trouble to my house in the likenes of your Grace: for trouble being gone, comfort should remaine: but when you depart from me, sorrow abides, and happinesse takes his leaue
Pedro. You embrace your charge too willingly: I thinke this is your daughter
Leonato. Her mother hath many times told me so
Bened. Were you in doubt that you askt her?
Leonato. Signior Benedicke, no, for then were you a
childe
Pedro. You haue it full Benedicke, we may ghesse by this, what you are, being a man, truely the Lady fathers her selfe: be happie Lady, for you are like an honorable father
Ben. If Signior Leonato be her father, she would not haue his head on her shoulders for al Messina, as like him as she is
Beat. I wonder that you will still be talking, signior
Benedicke, no body markes you
Ben. What my deere Ladie Disdaine! are you yet liuing? Beat. Is it possible Disdaine should die, while shee hath such meete foode to feede it, as Signior Benedicke? Curtesie it selfe must conuert to Disdaine, if you come in her presence
Bene. Then is curtesie a turne-coate, but it is certaine
I am loued of all Ladies, onely you excepted: and
I would I could finde in my heart that I had not a hard
heart, for truely I loue none
Beat. A deere happinesse to women, they would else haue beene troubled with a pernitious Suter, I thanke God and my cold blood, I am of your humour for that, I had rather heare my Dog barke at a Crow, than a man sweare he loues me
Bene. God keepe your Ladiship still in that minde, so some Gentleman or other shall scape a predestinate scratcht face
Beat. Scratching could not make it worse, and 'twere such a face as yours were
Bene. Well, you are a rare Parrat teacher
Beat. A bird of my tongue, is better than a beast of your
Ben. I would my horse had the speed of your tongue, and so good a continuer, but keepe your way a Gods name, I haue done
Beat. You alwaies end with a Iades tricke, I know you of old
Pedro. This is the summe of all: Leonato, signior Claudio, and signior Benedicke; my deere friend Leonato, hath inuited you all, I tell him we shall stay here, at the least a moneth, and he heartily praies some occasion may detaine vs longer: I dare sweare hee is no hypocrite, but praies from his heart
Leon. If you sweare, my Lord, you shall not be forsworne, let mee bid you welcome, my Lord, being reconciled to the Prince your brother: I owe you all duetie
Iohn. I thanke you, I am not of many words, but I
thanke you
Leon. Please it your grace leade on?
Pedro. Your hand Leonato, we will goe together.
Exeunt. Manet Benedicke and Claudio.
Clau. Benedicke, didst thou note the daughter of signior
Leonato?
Bene. I noted her not, but I lookt on her
Claud. Is she not a modest yong Ladie?
Bene. Doe you question me as an honest man should
doe, for my simple true iudgement? or would you haue
me speake after my custome, as being a professed tyrant
to their sexe?
Clau. No, I pray thee speake in sober iudgement
Bene. Why yfaith me thinks shee's too low for a hie praise, too browne for a faire praise, and too little for a great praise, onely this commendation I can affoord her, that were shee other then she is, she were vnhandsome, and being no other, but as she is, I doe not like her
Clau. Thou think'st I am in sport, I pray thee tell me
truely how thou lik'st her
Bene. Would you buie her, that you enquier after
her?
Clau. Can the world buie such a iewell?
Ben. Yea, and a case to put it into, but speake you this
with a sad brow? Or doe you play the flowting iacke, to
tell vs Cupid is a good Hare-finder, and Vulcan a rare
Carpenter: Come, in what key shall a man take you to
goe in the song?
Clau. In mine eie, she is the sweetest Ladie that euer
I lookt on
Bene. I can see yet without spectacles, and I see no such matter: there's her cosin, and she were not possest with a furie, exceedes her as much in beautie, as the first of Maie doth the last of December: but I hope you haue no intent to turne husband, haue you? Clau. I would scarce trust my selfe, though I had sworne the contrarie, if Hero would be my wife
Bene. Ist come to this? in faith hath not the world one man but he will weare his cap with suspition? shall I neuer see a batcheller of three score againe? goe to yfaith, and thou wilt needes thrust thy necke into a yoke, weare the print of it, and sigh away sundaies: looke, don Pedro is returned to seeke you.
Enter don Pedro, Iohn the bastard.
Pedr. What secret hath held you here, that you followed
not to Leonatoes?
Bened. I would your Grace would constraine mee to
tell
Pedro. I charge thee on thy allegeance
Ben. You heare, Count Claudio, I can be secret as a dumbe man, I would haue you thinke so (but on my allegiance, marke you this, on my allegiance) hee is in loue, With who? now that is your Graces part: marke how short his answere is, with Hero, Leonatoes short daughter
Clau. If this were so, so were it vttred
Bened. Like the old tale, my Lord, it is not so, nor 'twas
not so: but indeede, God forbid it should be so
Clau. If my passion change not shortly, God forbid it
should be otherwise
Pedro. Amen, if you loue her, for the Ladie is verie
well worthie
Clau. You speake this to fetch me in, my Lord
Pedr. By my troth I speake my thought
Clau. And in faith, my Lord, I spoke mine
Bened. And by my two faiths and troths, my Lord, I speake mine
Clau. That I loue her, I feele
Pedr. That she is worthie, I know
Bened. That I neither feele how shee should be loued, nor know how shee should be worthie, is the opinion that fire cannot melt out of me, I will die in it at the stake
Pedr. Thou wast euer an obstinate heretique in the despight of Beautie
Clau. And neuer could maintaine his part, but in the force of his will Ben. That a woman conceiued me, I thanke her: that she brought mee vp, I likewise giue her most humble thankes: but that I will haue a rechate winded in my forehead, or hang my bugle in an inuisible baldricke, all women shall pardon me: because I will not do them the wrong to mistrust any, I will doe my selfe the right to trust none: and the fine is, (for the which I may goe the finer) I will liue a Batchellor
Pedro. I shall see thee ere I die, looke pale with loue
Bene. With anger, with sicknesse, or with hunger, my Lord, not with loue: proue that euer I loose more blood with loue, then I will get againe with drinking, picke out mine eyes with a Ballet-makers penne, and hang me vp at the doore of a brothel-house for the signe of blinde Cupid
Pedro. Well, if euer thou doost fall from this faith, thou wilt proue a notable argument
Bene. If I do, hang me in a bottle like a Cat, & shoot at me, and he that hit's me, let him be clapt on the shoulder, and cal'd Adam
Pedro. Well, as time shall trie: In time the sauage
Bull doth beare the yoake
Bene. The sauage bull may, but if euer the sensible Benedicke beare it, plucke off the bulles hornes, and set them in my forehead, and let me be vildely painted, and in such great Letters as they write, heere is good horse to hire: let them signifie vnder my signe, here you may see Benedicke the married man
Clau. If this should euer happen, thou wouldst bee
horne mad
Pedro. Nay, if Cupid haue not spent all his Quiuer in
Venice, thou wilt quake for this shortly
Bene. I looke for an earthquake too then
Pedro. Well, you will temporize with the houres, in the meane time, good Signior Benedicke, repaire to Leonatoes, commend me to him, and tell him I will not faile him at supper, for indeede he hath made great preparation
Bene. I haue almost matter enough in me for such an
Embassage, and so I commit you
Clau. To the tuition of God. From my house, if I
had it
Pedro. The sixt of Iuly. Your louing friend, Benedick
Bene. Nay mocke not, mocke not; the body of your discourse is sometime guarded with fragments, and the guardes are but slightly basted on neither, ere you flout old ends any further, examine your conscience, and so I leaue you.
Enter.
Clau. My Liege, your Highnesse now may doe mee
good
Pedro. My loue is thine to teach, teach it but how,
And thou shalt see how apt it is to learne
Any hard Lesson that may do thee good
Clau. Hath Leonato any sonne my Lord?
Pedro. No childe but Hero, she's his onely heire.
Dost thou affect her Claudio?
Clau. O my Lord,
When you went onward on this ended action,
I look'd vpon her with a souldiers eie,
That lik'd, but had a rougher taske in hand,
Than to driue liking to the name of loue:
But now I am return'd, and that warre-thoughts
Haue left their places vacant: in their roomes,
Come thronging soft and delicate desires,
All prompting mee how faire yong Hero is,
Saying I lik'd her ere I went to warres
Pedro. Thou wilt be like a louer presently,
And tire the hearer with a booke of words:
If thou dost loue faire Hero, cherish it,
And I will breake with her: wast not to this end,
That thou beganst to twist so fine a story?
Clau. How sweetly doe you minister to loue,
That know loues griefe by his complexion!
But lest my liking might too sodaine seeme,
I would haue salu'd it with a longer treatise
Ped. What need y bridge much broder then the flood?
The fairest graunt is the necessitie:
Looke what will serue, is fit: 'tis once, thou louest,
And I will fit thee with the remedie,
I know we shall haue reuelling to night,
I will assume thy part in some disguise,
And tell faire Hero I am Claudio,
And in her bosome Ile vnclaspe my heart,
And take her hearing prisoner with the force
And strong incounter of my amorous tale:
Then after, to her father will I breake,
And the conclusion is, shee shall be thine,
In practise let vs put it presently.
Exeunt.
Enter Leonato and an old man, brother to Leonato.
Leo. How now brother, where is my cosen your son:
hath he prouided this musicke?
Old. He is very busie about it, but brother, I can tell
you newes that you yet dreamt not of
Lo. Are they good? Old. As the euents stamps them, but they haue a good couer: they shew well outward, the Prince and Count Claudio walking in a thick pleached alley in my orchard, were thus ouer-heard by a man of mine: the Prince discouered to Claudio that hee loued my niece your daughter, and meant to acknowledge it this night in a dance, and if hee found her accordant, hee meant to take the present time by the top, and instantly breake with you of it
Leo. Hath the fellow any wit that told you this?
Old. A good sharpe fellow, I will send for him, and
question him your selfe
Leo. No, no; wee will hold it as a dreame, till it appeare it selfe: but I will acquaint my daughter withall, that she may be the better prepared for an answer, if peraduenture this bee true: goe you and tell her of it: coosins, you know what you haue to doe, O I crie you mercie friend, goe you with mee and I will vse your skill, good cosin haue a care this busie time.
Exeunt.
Enter Sir Iohn the Bastard, and Conrade his companion.
Con. What the good yeere my Lord, why are you
thus out of measure sad?
Ioh. There is no measure in the occasion that breeds,
therefore the sadnesse is without limit
Con. You should heare reason
Iohn. And when I haue heard it, what blessing bringeth
it?
Con. If not a present remedy, yet a patient sufferance
Ioh. I wonder that thou (being as thou saist thou art, borne vnder Saturne) goest about to apply a morall medicine, to a mortifying mischiefe: I cannot hide what I am: I must bee sad when I haue cause, and smile at no mans iests, eat when I haue stomacke, and wait for no mans leisure: sleepe when I am drowsie, and tend on no mans businesse, laugh when I am merry, and claw no man in his humor
Con. Yea, but you must not make the ful show of this, till you may doe it without controllment, you haue of late stood out against your brother, and hee hath tane you newly into his grace, where it is impossible you should take root, but by the faire weather that you make your selfe, it is needful that you frame the season for your owne haruest
Iohn. I had rather be a canker in a hedge, then a rose in his grace, and it better fits my bloud to be disdain'd of all, then to fashion a carriage to rob loue from any: in this (though I cannot be said to be a flattering honest man) it must not be denied but I am a plaine dealing villaine, I am trusted with a mussell, and enfranchisde with a clog, therefore I haue decreed, not to sing in my cage: if I had my mouth, I would bite: if I had my liberty, I would do my liking: in the meane time, let me be that I am, and seeke not to alter me
Con. Can you make no vse of your discontent?
Iohn. I will make all vse of it, for I vse it onely.
Who comes here? what newes Borachio?
Enter Borachio.
Bor. I came yonder from a great supper, the Prince your brother is royally entertained by Leonato, and I can giue you intelligence of an intended marriage
Iohn. Will it serue for any Modell to build mischiefe
on? What is hee for a foole that betrothes himselfe to
vnquietnesse?
Bor. Mary it is your brothers right hand
Iohn. Who, the most exquisite Claudio?
Bor. Euen he
Iohn. A proper squier, and who, and who, which way
lookes he?
Bor. Mary on Hero, the daughter and Heire of Leonato
Iohn. A very forward March-chicke, how came you to this: Bor. Being entertain'd for a perfumer, as I was smoaking a musty roome, comes me the Prince and Claudio, hand in hand in sad conference: I whipt behind the Arras, and there heard it agreed vpon, that the Prince should wooe Hero for himselfe, and hauing obtain'd her, giue her to Count Claudio
Iohn. Come, come, let vs thither, this may proue food to my displeasure, that young start-vp hath all the glorie of my ouerthrow: if I can crosse him any way, I blesse my selfe euery way, you are both sure, and will assist mee? Conr. To the death my Lord
Iohn. Let vs to the great supper, their cheere is the
greater that I am subdued, would the Cooke were of my
minde: shall we goe proue whats to be done?
Bor. Wee'll wait vpon your Lordship.
Exeunt.
Actus Secundus.
Enter Leonato, his brother, his wife, Hero his daughter, and Beatrice his neece, and a kinsman.
Leonato. Was not Count Iohn here at supper?
Brother. I saw him not
Beatrice. How tartly that Gentleman lookes, I neuer
can see him, but I am heart-burn'd an howre after
Hero. He is of a very melancholy disposition
Beatrice. Hee were an excellent man that were made iust in the mid-way betweene him and Benedicke, the one is too like an image and saies nothing, and the other too like my Ladies eldest sonne, euermore tatling
Leon. Then halfe signior Benedicks tongue in Count
Iohns mouth, and halfe Count Iohns melancholy in Signior
Benedicks face
Beat. With a good legge, and a good foot vnckle, and money enough in his purse, such a man would winne any woman in the world, if he could get her good will
Leon. By my troth Neece, thou wilt neuer get thee a husband, if thou be so shrewd of thy tongue
Brother. Infaith shee's too curst
Beat. Too curst is more then curst, I shall lessen Gods sending that way: for it is said, God sends a curst Cow short hornes, but to a Cow too curst he sends none
Leon. So, by being too curst, God will send you no hornes
Beat. Iust, if he send me no husband, for the which blessing, I am at him vpon my knees euery morning and euening: Lord, I could not endure a husband with a beard on his face, I had rather lie in the woollen
Leonato. You may light vpon a husband that hath no beard
Beatrice. What should I doe with him? dresse him in my apparell, and make him my waiting gentlewoman? he that hath a beard, is more then a youth: and he that hath no beard, is lesse then a man: and hee that is more then a youth, is not for mee: and he that is lesse then a man, I am not for him: therefore I will euen take sixepence in earnest of the Berrord, and leade his Apes into hell
Leon. Well then, goe you into hell
Beat. No, but to the gate, and there will the Deuill meete mee like an old Cuckold with hornes on his head, and say, get you to heauen Beatrice, get you to heauen, heere's no place for you maids, so deliuer I vp my Apes, and away to S[aint]. Peter: for the heauens, hee shewes mee where the Batchellers sit, and there liue wee as merry as the day is long
Brother. Well neece, I trust you will be rul'd by your father
Beatrice. Yes faith, it is my cosens dutie to make curtsie, and say, as it please you: but yet for all that cosin, let him be a handsome fellow, or else make an other cursie, and say, father, as it please me
Leonato. Well neece, I hope to see you one day fitted with a husband
Beatrice. Not till God make men of some other mettall then earth, would it not grieue a woman to be ouermastred with a peece of valiant dust: to make account of her life to a clod of waiward marle? no vnckle, ile none: Adams sonnes are my brethren, and truly I hold it a sinne to match in my kinred
Leon. Daughter, remember what I told you, if the
Prince doe solicit you in that kinde, you know your answere
Beatrice. The fault will be in the musicke cosin, if you be not woed in good time: if the Prince bee too important, tell him there is measure in euery thing, & so dance out the answere, for heare me Hero, wooing, wedding, & repenting, is as a Scotch jigge, a measure, and a cinquepace: the first suite is hot and hasty like a Scotch jigge (and full as fantasticall) the wedding manerly modest, (as a measure) full of state & aunchentry, and then comes repentance, and with his bad legs falls into the cinquepace faster and faster, till he sinkes into his graue
Leonato. Cosin you apprehend passing shrewdly
Beatrice. I haue a good eye vnckle, I can see a Church
by daylight
Leon. The reuellers are entring brother, make good
roome.
Enter Prince, Pedro, Claudio, and Benedicke, and Balthasar, or
dumbe Iohn,
Maskers with a drum.
Pedro. Lady, will you walke about with your friend?
Hero. So you walke softly, and looke sweetly, and say
nothing, I am yours for the walke, and especially when I
walke away
Pedro. With me in your company
Hero. I may say so when I please
Pedro. And when please you to say so?
Hero. When I like your fauour, for God defend the
Lute should be like the case
Pedro. My visor is Philemons roofe, within the house
is Loue
Hero. Why then your visor should be thatcht
Pedro. Speake low if you speake Loue
Bene. Well, I would you did like me
Mar. So would not I for your owne sake, for I haue
manie ill qualities
Bene. Which is one?
Mar. I say my prayers alowd
Ben. I loue you the better, the hearers may cry Amen
Mar. God match me with a good dauncer
Balt. Amen
Mar. And God keepe him out of my sight when the daunce is done: answer Clarke
Balt. No more words, the Clarke is answered
Vrsula. I know you well enough, you are Signior Anthonio
Anth. At a word, I am not
Vrsula. I know you by the wagling of your head
Anth. To tell you true, I counterfet him
Vrsu. You could neuer doe him so ill well, vnlesse you were the very man: here's his dry hand vp & down, you are he, you are he
Anth. At a word I am not
Vrsula. Come, come, doe you thinke I doe not know you by your excellent wit? can vertue hide it selfe? goe to mumme, you are he, graces will appeare, and there's an end
Beat. Will you not tell me who told you so?
Bene. No, you shall pardon me
Beat. Nor will you not tell me who you are?
Bened. Not now
Beat. That I was disdainfull, and that I had my good wit out of the hundred merry tales: well, this was Signior Benedicke that said so
Bene. What's he?
Beat. I am sure you know him well enough
Bene. Not I, beleeue me
Beat. Did he neuer make you laugh? Bene. I pray you what is he? Beat. Why he is the Princes ieaster, a very dull foole, onely his gift is, in deuising impossible slanders, none but Libertines delight in him, and the commendation is not in his witte, but in his villanie, for hee both pleaseth men and angers them, and then they laugh at him, and beat him: I am sure he is in the Fleet, I would he had boorded me
Bene. When I know the Gentleman, Ile tell him what you say
Beat. Do, do, hee'l but breake a comparison or two on me, which peraduenture (not markt, or not laugh'd at) strikes him into melancholly, and then there's a Partridge wing saued, for the foole will eate no supper that night. We must follow the Leaders
Ben. In euery good thing
Bea. Nay, if they leade to any ill, I will leaue them at the next turning.
Exeunt.
Musicke for the dance.
Iohn. Sure my brother is amorous on Hero, and hath withdrawne her father to breake with him about it: the Ladies follow her, and but one visor remaines
Borachio. And that is Claudio, I know him by his bearing
Iohn. Are not you signior Benedicke?
Clau. You know me well, I am hee
Iohn. Signior, you are verie neere my Brother in his loue, he is enamor'd on Hero, I pray you disswade him from her, she is no equall for his birth: you may do the part of an honest man in it
Claudio. How know you he loues her?
Iohn. I heard him sweare his affection
Bor. So did I too, and he swore he would marrie her
to night
Iohn. Come, let vs to the banquet.
Ex. manet Clau.
Clau. Thus answere I in name of Benedicke,
But heare these ill newes with the eares of Claudio:
'Tis certaine so, the Prince woes for himselfe:
Friendship is constant in all other things,
Saue in the Office and affaires of loue:
Therefore all hearts in loue vse their owne tongues.
Let euerie eye negotiate for it selfe,
And trust no Agent: for beautie is a witch,
Against whose charmes, faith melteth into blood:
This is an accident of hourely proofe,
Which I mistrusted not. Farewell therefore Hero.
Enter Benedicke.
Ben. Count Claudio
Clau. Yea, the same
Ben. Come, will you goe with me? Clau. Whither? Ben. Euen to the next Willow, about your own businesse, Count. What fashion will you weare the Garland off? About your necke, like an Vsurers chaine? Or vnder your arme, like a Lieutenants scarfe? You must weare it one way, for the Prince hath got your Hero
Clau . I wish him ioy of her
Ben. Why that's spoken like an honest Drouier, so
they sel Bullockes: but did you thinke the Prince wold
haue serued you thus?
Clau. I pray you leaue me
Ben. Ho now you strike like the blindman, 'twas the
boy that stole your meate, and you'l beat the post
Clau. If it will not be, Ile leaue you.
Enter.
Ben. Alas poore hurt fowle, now will he creepe into sedges: But that my Ladie Beatrice should know me, & not know me: the Princes foole! Hah? It may be I goe vnder that title, because I am merrie: yea but so I am apt to do my selfe wrong: I am not so reputed, it is the base (though bitter) disposition of Beatrice, that putt's the world into her person, and so giues me out: well, Ile be reuenged as I may. Enter the Prince.
Pedro. Now Signior, where's the Count, did you see him? Bene. Troth my Lord, I haue played the part of Lady Fame, I found him heere as melancholy as a Lodge in a Warren, I told him, and I thinke, told him true, that your grace had got the will of this young Lady, and I offered him my company to a willow tree, either to make him a garland, as being forsaken, or to binde him a rod, as being worthy to be whipt
Pedro. To be whipt, what's his fault?
Bene. The flat transgression of a Schoole-boy, who
being ouer-ioyed with finding a birds nest, shewes it his
companion, and he steales it
Pedro. Wilt thou make a trust, a transgression? the
transgression is in the stealer
Ben. Yet it had not been amisse the rod had beene made, and the garland too, for the garland he might haue worne himselfe, and the rod hee might haue bestowed on you, who (as I take it) haue stolne his birds nest
Pedro. I will but teach them to sing, and restore them
to the owner
Bene. If their singing answer your saying, by my faith
you say honestly
Pedro. The Lady Beatrice hath a quarrell to you, the Gentleman that daunst with her, told her shee is much wrong'd by you
Bene. O she misusde me past the indurance of a block: an oake but with one greene leafe on it, would haue answered her: my very visor began to assume life, and scold with her: shee told mee, not thinking I had beene my selfe, that I was the Princes Iester, and that I was duller then a great thaw, hudling iest vpon iest, with such impossible conueiance vpon me, that I stood like a man at a marke, with a whole army shooting at me: shee speakes poynyards, and euery word stabbes: if her breath were as terrible as terminations, there were no liuing neere her, she would infect to the north starre: I would not marry her, though she were indowed with all that Adam had left him before he transgrest, she would haue made Hercules haue turnd spit, yea, and haue cleft his club to make the fire too: come, talke not of her, you shall finde her the infernall Ate in good apparell. I would to God some scholler would coniure her, for certainely while she is heere, a man may liue as quiet in hell, as in a sanctuary, and people sinne vpon purpose, because they would goe thither, so indeed all disquiet, horror, and perturbation followes her. Enter Claudio and Beatrice, Leonato, Hero.
Pedro. Looke heere she comes
Bene. Will your Grace command mee any seruice to the worlds end? I will goe on the slightest arrand now to the Antypodes that you can deuise to send me on: I will fetch you a tooth-picker now from the furthest inch of Asia: bring you the length of Prester Iohns foot: fetch you a hayre off the great Chams beard: doe you any embassage to the Pigmies, rather then hould three words conference, with this Harpy: you haue no employment for me? Pedro. None, but to desire your good company
Bene. O God sir, heeres a dish I loue not, I cannot indure
this Lady tongue.
Enter.
Pedr. Come Lady, come, you haue lost the heart of
Signior Benedicke
Beatr. Indeed my Lord, hee lent it me a while, and I gaue him vse for it, a double heart for a single one, marry once before he wonne it of mee, with false dice, therefore your Grace may well say I haue lost it
Pedro. You haue put him downe Lady, you haue put
him downe
Beat. So I would not he should do me, my Lord, lest
I should prooue the mother of fooles: I haue brought
Count Claudio, whom you sent me to seeke
Pedro. Why how now Count, wherfore are you sad?
Claud. Not sad my Lord
Pedro. How then? sicke?
Claud. Neither, my Lord
Beat. The Count is neither sad, nor sicke, nor merry, nor well: but ciuill Count, ciuill as an Orange, and something of a iealous complexion
Pedro. Ifaith Lady, I thinke your blazon to be true. though Ile be sworne, if hee be so, his conceit is false: heere Claudio, I haue wooed in thy name, and faire Hero is won, I haue broke with her father, and his good will obtained, name the day of marriage, and God giue thee ioy
Leona. Count, take of me my daughter, and with her my fortunes: his grace hath made the match, & all grace say, Amen to it
Beatr. Speake Count, tis your Qu
Claud. Silence is the perfectest Herault of ioy, I were but little happy if I could say, how much? Lady, as you are mine, I am yours, I giue away my selfe for you, and doat vpon the exchange
Beat. Speake cosin, or (if you cannot) stop his mouth with a kisse, and let not him speake neither
Pedro. In faith Lady you haue a merry heart
Beatr. Yea my Lord I thanke it, poore foole it keepes on the windy side of Care, my coosin tells him in his eare that he is in my heart
Clau. And so she doth coosin
Beat. Good Lord for alliance: thus goes euery one to the world but I, and I am sun-burn'd, I may sit in a corner and cry, heigh ho for a husband
Pedro. Lady Beatrice, I will get you one
Beat. I would rather haue one of your fathers getting: hath your Grace ne're a brother like you? your father got excellent husbands, if a maid could come by them
Prince. Will you haue me? Lady
Beat. No, my Lord, vnlesse I might haue another for working-daies, your Grace is too costly to weare euerie day: but I beseech your Grace pardon mee, I was borne to speake all mirth, and no matter
Prince. Your silence most offends me, and to be merry, best becomes you, for out of question, you were born in a merry howre
Beatr. No sure my Lord, my Mother cried, but then there was a starre daunst, and vnder that was I borne: cosins God giue you ioy
Leonato. Neece, will you looke to those things I told
you of?
Beat. I cry you mercy Vncle, by your Graces pardon.
Exit Beatrice.
Prince. By my troth a pleasant spirited Lady
Leon. There's little of the melancholy element in her my Lord, she is neuer sad, but when she sleepes, and not euer sad then: for I haue heard my daughter say, she hath often dreamt of vnhappinesse, and wakt her selfe with laughing
Pedro. Shee cannot indure to heare tell of a husband
Leonato. O, by no meanes, she mocks all her wooers out of suite
Prince. She were an excellent wife for Benedick
Leonato. O Lord, my Lord, if they were but a weeke
married, they would talke themselues madde
Prince. Counte Claudio, when meane you to goe to
Church?
Clau. To morrow my Lord, Time goes on crutches,
till Loue haue all his rites
Leonato. Not till monday, my deare sonne, which is hence a iust seuen night, and a time too briefe too, to haue all things answer minde
Prince. Come, you shake the head at so long a breathing, but I warrant thee Claudio, the time shall not goe dully by vs, I will in the interim, vndertake one of Hercules labors, which is, to bring Signior Benedicke and the Lady Beatrice into a mountaine of affection, th' one with th' other, I would faine haue it a match, and I doubt not but to fashion it, if you three will but minister such assistance as I shall giue you direction
Leonato. My Lord, I am for you, though it cost mee ten nights watchings
Claud. And I my Lord
Prin. And you to gentle Hero?
Hero. I will doe any modest office, my Lord, to helpe
my cosin to a good husband
Prin. And Benedick is not the vnhopefullest husband that I know: thus farre can I praise him, hee is of a noble straine, of approued valour, and confirm'd honesty, I will teach you how to humour your cosin, that shee shall fall in loue with Benedicke, and I, with your two helpes, will so practise on Benedicke, that in despight of his quicke wit, and his queasie stomacke, hee shall fall in loue with Beatrice: if wee can doe this, Cupid is no longer an Archer, his glory shall be ours, for wee are the onely louegods, goe in with me, and I will tell you my drift. Enter.
Enter Iohn and Borachio.
Ioh. It is so, the Count Claudio shal marry the daughter of Leonato
Bora. Yea my Lord, but I can crosse it
Iohn. Any barre, any crosse, any impediment, will be medicinable to me, I am sicke in displeasure to him, and whatsoeuer comes athwart his affection, ranges euenly with mine, how canst thou crosse this marriage? Bor. Not honestly my Lord, but so couertly, that no dishonesty shall appeare in me
Iohn. Shew me breefely how
Bor. I thinke I told your Lordship a yeere since, how much I am in the fauour of Margaret, the waiting gentlewoman to Hero
Iohn. I remember
Bor. I can at any vnseasonable instant of the night, appoint her to looke out at her Ladies chamber window
Iohn. What life is in that, to be the death of this marriage? Bor. The poyson of that lies in you to temper, goe you to the Prince your brother, spare not to tell him, that hee hath wronged his Honor in marrying the renowned Claudio, whose estimation do you mightily hold vp, to a contaminated stale, such a one as Hero
Iohn. What proofe shall I make of that?
Bor. Proofe enough, to misuse the Prince, to vexe
Claudio, to vndoe Hero, and kill Leonato, looke you for any
other issue?
Iohn. Onely to despight them, I will endeauour any
thing
Bor. Goe then, finde me a meete howre, to draw on Pedro and the Count Claudio alone, tell them that you know that Hero loues me, intend a kinde of zeale both to the Prince and Claudio (as in a loue of your brothers honor who hath made this match) and his friends reputation, who is thus like to be cosen'd with the semblance of a maid, that you haue discouer'd thus: they will scarcely beleeue this without triall: offer them instances which shall beare no lesse likelihood, than to see mee at her chamber window, heare me call Margaret, Hero; heare Margaret terme me Claudio, and bring them to see this the very night before the intended wedding, for in the meane time, I will so fashion the matter, that Hero shall be absent, and there shall appeare such seeming truths of Heroes disloyaltie, that iealousie shall be cal'd assurance, and all the preparation ouerthrowne
Iohn. Grow this to what aduerse issue it can, I will put it in practise: be cunning in the working this, and thy fee is a thousand ducates
Bor. Be thou constant in the accusation, and my cunning
shall not shame me
Iohn. I will presentlie goe learne their day of marriage.
Enter.
Enter Benedicke alone.
Bene. Boy
Boy. Signior
Bene. In my chamber window lies a booke, bring it
hither to me in the orchard
Boy. I am heere already sir.
Enter.
Bene. I know that, but I would haue thee hence, and heere againe. I doe much wonder, that one man seeing how much another man is a foole, when he dedicates his behauiours to loue, will after hee hath laught at such shallow follies in others, become the argument of his owne scorne, by falling in loue, & such a man is Claudio. I haue known when there was no musicke with him but the drum and the fife, and now had hee rather heare the taber and the pipe: I haue knowne when he would haue walkt ten mile afoot, to see a good armor, and now will he lie ten nights awake caruing the fashion of a new dublet: he was wont to speake plaine, & to the purpose (like an honest man & a souldier) and now is he turn'd orthography, his words are a very fantasticall banquet, iust so many strange dishes: may I be so conuerted, & see with these eyes? I cannot tell, I thinke not: I will not bee sworne, but loue may transforme me to an oyster, but Ile take my oath on it, till he haue made an oyster of me, he shall neuer make me such a foole: one woman is faire, yet I am well: another is wise, yet I am well: another vertuous, yet I am well: but till all graces be in one woman, one woman shall not come in my grace: rich shee shall be, that's certaine: wise, or Ile none: vertuous, or Ile neuer cheapen her: faire, or Ile neuer looke on her: milde, or come not neere me: Noble, or not for an Angell: of good discourse: an excellent Musitian, and her haire shal be of what colour it please God, hah! the Prince and Monsieur Loue, I will hide me in the Arbor. Enter Prince, Leonato, Claudio, and Iacke Wilson.
Prin. Come, shall we heare this musicke?
Claud. Yea my good Lord: how still the euening is.
As husht on purpose to grace harmonie
Prin. See you where Benedicke hath hid himselfe?
Clau. O very well my Lord: the musicke ended,
Wee'll fit the kid-foxe with a penny worth
Prince. Come Balthasar, wee'll heare that song again
Balth. O good my Lord, taxe not so bad a voyce,
To slander musicke any more then once
Prin. It is the witnesse still of excellency,
To slander Musicke any more then once
Prince. It is the witnesse still of excellencie,
To put a strange face on his owne perfection,
I pray thee sing, and let me woe no more
Balth. Because you talke of wooing, I will sing,
Since many a wooer doth commence his suit,
To her he thinkes not worthy, yet he wooes,
Yet will he sweare he loues
Prince. Nay pray thee come,
Or if thou wilt hold longer argument,
Doe it in notes
Balth. Note this before my notes,
Theres not a note of mine that's worth the noting
Prince. Why these are very crotchets that he speaks,
Note notes forsooth, and nothing
Bene. Now diuine aire, now is his soule rauisht, is it not strange that sheepes guts should hale soules out of mens bodies? well, a horne for my money when all's done.
The Song.
Sigh no more Ladies, sigh no more,
Men were deceiuers euer,
One foote in Sea, and one on shore,
To one thing constant neuer,
Then sigh not so, but let them goe,
And be you blithe and bonnie,
Conuerting all your sounds of woe,
Into hey nony nony.
Sing no more ditties, sing no moe,
Of dumps so dull and heauy,
The fraud of men were euer so,
Since summer first was leauy,
Then sigh not so, &c
Prince. By my troth a good song
Balth. And an ill singer, my Lord
Prince. Ha, no, no faith, thou singst well enough for a shift
Ben. And he had been a dog that should haue howld thus, they would haue hang'd him, and I pray God his bad voyce bode no mischiefe, I had as liefe haue heard the night-rauen, come what plague could haue come after it
Prince. Yea marry, dost thou heare Balthasar? I pray thee get vs some excellent musick: for to morrow night we would haue it at the Lady Heroes chamber window
Balth. The best I can, my Lord.
Exit Balthasar.
Prince. Do so, farewell. Come hither Leonato, what was it you told me of to day, that your Niece Beatrice was in loue with signior Benedicke? Cla. O I, stalke on, stalke on, the foule sits. I did neuer thinke that Lady would haue loued any man
Leon. No, nor I neither, but most wonderful, that she should so dote on Signior Benedicke, whom shee hath in all outward behauiours seemed euer to abhorre
Bene. Is't possible? sits the winde in that corner?
Leo. By my troth my Lord, I cannot tell what to
thinke of it, but that she loues him with an inraged affection,
it is past the infinite of thought
Prince. May be she doth but counterfeit
Claud. Faith like enough
Leon. O God! counterfeit? there was neuer counterfeit of passion, came so neere the life of passion as she discouers it
Prince. Why what effects of passion shewes she?
Claud. Baite the hooke well, this fish will bite
Leon. What effects my Lord? shee will sit you, you
heard my daughter tell you how
Clau. She did indeed
Prince. How, how I pray you? you amaze me, I would haue thought her spirit had beene inuincible against all assaults of affection
Leo. I would haue sworne it had, my Lord, especially against Benedicke
Bene. I should thinke this a gull, but that the whitebearded fellow speakes it: knauery cannot sure hide himselfe in such reuerence
Claud. He hath tane th' infection, hold it vp
Prince. Hath shee made her affection known to Benedicke:
Leonato. No, and sweares she neuer will, that's her
torment
Claud. 'Tis true indeed, so your daughter saies: shall I, saies she, that haue so oft encountred him with scorne, write to him that I loue him? Leo. This saies shee now when shee is beginning to write to him, for shee'll be vp twenty times a night, and there will she sit in her smocke, till she haue writ a sheet of paper: my daughter tells vs all
Clau. Now you talke of a sheet of paper, I remember
a pretty iest your daughter told vs of
Leon. O when she had writ it, & was reading it ouer,
she found Benedicke and Beatrice betweene the sheete
Clau. That
Leon. O she tore the letter into a thousand halfpence, raild at her self, that she should be so immodest to write, to one that shee knew would flout her: I measure him, saies she, by my owne spirit, for I should flout him if hee writ to mee, yea though I loue him, I should
Clau. Then downe vpon her knees she falls, weepes, sobs, beates her heart, teares her hayre, praies, curses, O sweet Benedicke, God giue me patience
Leon. She doth indeed, my daughter saies so, and the extasie hath so much ouerborne her, that my daughter is somtime afeard she will doe a desperate out-rage to her selfe, it is very true
Prince. It were good that Benedicke knew of it by some
other, if she will not discouer it
Clau. To what end? he would but make a sport of it,
and torment the poore Lady worse
Prin. And he should, it were an almes to hang him, shee's an excellent sweet Lady, and (out of all suspition,) she is vertuous
Claudio. And she is exceeding wise
Prince. In euery thing, but in louing Benedicke
Leon. O my Lord, wisedome and bloud combating in so tender a body, we haue ten proofes to one, that bloud hath the victory, I am sorry for her, as I haue iust cause, being her Vncle, and her Guardian
Prince. I would shee had bestowed this dotage on mee, I would haue daft all other respects, and made her halfe my selfe: I pray you tell Benedicke of it, and heare what he will say
Leon. Were it good thinke you? Clau. Hero thinkes surely she wil die, for she saies she will die, if hee loue her not, and shee will die ere shee make her loue knowne, and she will die if hee wooe her, rather than shee will bate one breath of her accustomed crossenesse
Prince. She doth well, if she should make tender of her loue, 'tis very possible hee'l scorne it, for the man (as you know all) hath a contemptible spirit
Clau. He is a very proper man
Prin. He hath indeed a good outward happines
Clau. 'Fore God, and in my minde very wise
Prin. He doth indeed shew some sparkes that are like wit
Leon. And I take him to be valiant
Prin. As Hector, I assure you, and in the managing of quarrels you may see hee is wise, for either hee auoydes them with great discretion, or vndertakes them with a Christian-like feare
Leon. If hee doe feare God, a must necessarilie keepe peace, if hee breake the peace, hee ought to enter into a quarrell with feare and trembling
Prin. And so will he doe, for the man doth fear God, howsoeuer it seemes not in him, by some large ieasts hee will make: well, I am sorry for your niece, shall we goe see Benedicke, and tell him of her loue
Claud. Neuer tell him, my Lord, let her weare it out
with good counsell
Leon. Nay that's impossible, she may weare her heart
out first
Prin. Well, we will heare further of it by your daughter, let it coole the while, I loue Benedicke well, and I could wish he would modestly examine himselfe, to see how much he is vnworthy to haue so good a Lady
Leon. My Lord, will you walke? dinner is ready
Clau. If he do not doat on her vpon this, I wil neuer trust my expectation
Prin. Let there be the same Net spread for her, and that must your daughter and her gentlewoman carry: the sport will be, when they hold one an opinion of anothers dotage, and no such matter, that's the Scene that I would see, which will be meerely a dumbe shew: let vs send her to call him into dinner.
Exeunt.
Bene. This can be no tricke, the conference was sadly borne, they haue the truth of this from Hero, they seeme to pittie the Lady: it seemes her affections haue the full bent: loue me? why it must be requited: I heare how I am censur'd, they say I will beare my selfe proudly, if I perceiue the loue come from her: they say too, that she will rather die than giue any signe of affection: I did neuer thinke to marry, I must not seeme proud, happy are they that heare their detractions, and can put them to mending: they say the Lady is faire, 'tis a truth, I can beare them witnesse: and vertuous, tis so, I cannot reprooue it, and wise, but for louing me, by my troth it is no addition to her witte, nor no great argument of her folly; for I wil be horribly in loue with her, I may chance haue some odde quirkes and remnants of witte broken on mee, because I haue rail'd so long against marriage: but doth not the appetite alter? a man loues the meat in his youth, that he cannot indure in his age. Shall quips and sentences, and these paper bullets of the braine awe a man from the careere of his humour? No, the world must be peopled. When I said I would die a batcheler, I did not think I should liue till I were maried, here comes Beatrice: by this day, shee's a faire Lady, I doe spie some markes of loue in her. Enter Beatrice.
Beat. Against my wil I am sent to bid you come in to dinner
Bene. Faire Beatrice, I thanke you for your paines
Beat. I tooke no more paines for those thankes, then you take paines to thanke me, if it had been painefull, I would not haue come
Bene. You take pleasure then in the message
Beat. Yea iust so much as you may take vpon a kniues point, and choake a daw withall: you haue no stomacke signior, fare you well. Enter.
Bene. Ha, against my will I am sent to bid you come into dinner: there's a double meaning in that: I tooke no more paines for those thankes then you took paines to thanke me, that's as much as to say, any paines that I take for you is as easie as thankes: if I do not take pitty of her I am a villaine, if I doe not loue her I am a Iew, I will goe get her picture. Enter.
Actus Tertius.
Enter Hero and two Gentlemen, Margaret, and Vrsula.
Hero. Good Margaret runne thee to the parlour,
There shalt thou finde my Cosin Beatrice,
Proposing with the Prince and Claudio,
Whisper her eare, and tell her I and Vrsula,
Walke in the Orchard, and our whole discourse
Is all of her, say that thou ouer-heardst vs,
And bid her steale into the pleached bower,
Where hony-suckles ripened by the sunne,
Forbid the sunne to enter: like fauourites,
Made proud by Princes, that aduance their pride,
Against that power that bred it, there will she hide her,
To listen our purpose, this is thy office,
Beare thee well in it, and leaue vs alone
Marg. Ile make her come I warrant you presently
Hero. Now Vrsula, when Beatrice doth come,
As we do trace this alley vp and downe,
Our talke must onely be of Benedicke,
When I doe name him, let it be thy part,
To praise him more then euer man did merit,
My talke to thee must be how Benedicke
Is sicke in loue with Beatrice; of this matter,
Is little Cupids crafty arrow made,
That onely wounds by heare-say: now begin,
Enter Beatrice.
For looke where Beatrice like a Lapwing runs
Close by the ground, to heare our conference
Vrs. The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish
Cut with her golden ores the siluer streame,
And greedily deuoure the treacherous baite:
So angle we for Beatrice, who euen now,
Is couched in the wood-bine couerture,
Feare you not my part of the Dialogue
Her. Then go we neare her that her eare loose nothing,
Of the false sweete baite that we lay for it:
No truely Vrsula, she is too disdainfull,
I know her spirits are as coy and wilde,
As Haggerds of the rocke
Vrsula. But are you sure,
That Benedicke loues Beatrice so intirely?
Her. So saies the Prince, and my new trothed Lord
Vrs. And did they bid you tell her of it, Madam?
Her. They did intreate me to acquaint her of it,
But I perswaded them, if they lou'd Benedicke,
To wish him wrastle with affection,
And neuer to let Beatrice know of it
Vrsula. Why did you so, doth not the Gentleman
Deserue as full as fortunate a bed,
As euer Beatrice shall couch vpon?
Hero. O God of loue! I know he doth deserue,
As much as may be yeelded to a man:
But Nature neuer fram'd a womans heart,
Of prowder stuffe then that of Beatrice:
Disdaine and Scorne ride sparkling in her eyes,
Mis-prizing what they looke on, and her wit
Values it selfe so highly, that to her
All matter else seemes weake: she cannot loue,
Nor take no shape nor proiect of affection,
Shee is so selfe indeared
Vrsula. Sure I thinke so,
And therefore certainely it were not good
She knew his loue, lest she make sport at it
Hero. Why you speake truth, I neuer yet saw man,
How wise, how noble, yong, how rarely featur'd.
But she would spell him backward: if faire fac'd,
She would sweare the gentleman should be her sister:
If blacke, why Nature drawing of an anticke,
Made a foule blot: if tall, a launce ill headed:
If low, an agot very vildlie cut:
If speaking, why a vane blowne with all windes:
If silent, why a blocke moued with none.
So turnes she euery man the wrong side out,
And neuer giues to Truth and Vertue, that
Which simplenesse and merit purchaseth
Vrsu. Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable
Hero. No, not to be so odde, and from all fashions,
As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable,
But who dare tell her so? if I should speake,
She would mocke me into ayre, O she would laugh me
Out of my selfe, presse me to death with wit,
Therefore let Benedicke like couered fire,
Consume away in sighes, waste inwardly:
It were a better death, to die with mockes,
Which is as bad as die with tickling
Vrsu. Yet tell her of it, heare what shee will say
Hero. No, rather I will goe to Benedicke,
And counsaile him to fight against his passion,
And truly Ile deuise some honest slanders,
To staine my cosin with, one doth not know,
How much an ill word may impoison liking
Vrsu. O doe not doe your cosin such a wrong,
She cannot be so much without true iudgement,
Hauing so swift and excellent a wit
As she is prisde to haue, as to refuse
So rare a Gentleman as signior Benedicke
Hero. He is the onely man of Italy,
Alwaies excepted, my deare Claudio
Vrsu. I pray you be not angry with me, Madame,
Speaking my fancy: Signior Benedicke,
For shape, for bearing argument and valour,
Goes formost in report through Italy
Hero. Indeed he hath an excellent good name
Vrsu. His excellence did earne it ere he had it:
When are you married Madame?
Hero. Why euerie day to morrow, come goe in,
Ile shew thee some attires, and haue thy counsell,
Which is the best to furnish me to morrow
Vrsu. Shee's tane I warrant you,
We haue caught her Madame?
Hero. If it proue so, then louing goes by haps,
Some Cupid kills with arrowes, some with traps.
Enter.
Beat. What fire is in mine eares? can this be true?
Stand I condemn'd for pride and scorne so much?
Contempt, farewell, and maiden pride, adew,
No glory liues behinde the backe of such.
And Benedicke, loue on, I will requite thee,
Taming my wilde heart to thy louing hand:
If thou dost loue, my kindnesse shall incite thee
To binde our loues vp in a holy band.
For others say thou dost deserue, and I
Beleeue it better then reportingly.
Enter.
Enter Prince, Claudio, Benedicke, and Leonato.
Prince. I doe but stay till your marriage be consummate,
and then go I toward Arragon
Clau. Ile bring you thither my Lord, if you'l vouchsafe
me
Prin. Nay, that would be as great a soyle in the new glosse of your marriage, as to shew a childe his new coat and forbid him to weare it, I will onely bee bold with Benedicke for his companie, for from the crowne of his head, to the sole of his foot, he is all mirth, he hath twice or thrice cut Cupids bow-string, and the little hang-man dare not shoot at him, he hath a heart as sound as a bell, and his tongue is the clapper, for what his heart thinkes, his tongue speakes
Bene. Gallants, I am not as I haue bin
Leo. So say I, methinkes you are sadder
Claud. I hope he be in loue
Prin. Hang him truant, there's no true drop of bloud in him to be truly toucht with loue, if he be sad, he wants money
Bene. I haue the tooth-ach
Prin. Draw it
Bene. Hang it
Claud. You must hang it first, and draw it afterwards
Prin. What? sigh for the tooth-ach
Leon. Where is but a humour or a worme
Bene. Well, euery one cannot master a griefe, but hee that has it
Clau. Yet say I, he is in loue
Prin. There is no appearance of fancie in him, vnlesse it be a fancy that he hath to strange disguises, as to bee a Dutchman to day, a Frenchman to morrow: vnlesse hee haue a fancy to this foolery, as it appeares hee hath, hee is no foole for fancy, as you would haue it to appeare he is
Clau. If he be not in loue with some woman, there is no beleeuing old signes, a brushes his hat a mornings, What should that bode? Prin. Hath any man seene him at the Barbers? Clau. No, but the Barbers man hath beene seen with him, and the olde ornament of his cheeke hath alreadie stuft tennis balls
Leon. Indeed he lookes yonger than hee did, by the
losse of a beard
Prin. Nay a rubs himselfe with Ciuit, can you smell
him out by that?
Clau. That's as much as to say, the sweet youth's in
loue
Prin. The greatest note of it is his melancholy
Clau. And when was he wont to wash his face?
Prin. Yea, or to paint himselfe? for the which I heare
what they say of him
Clau. Nay, but his iesting spirit, which is now crept
into a lute-string, and now gouern'd by stops
Prin. Indeed that tels a heauy tale for him: conclude,
he is in loue
Clau. Nay, but I know who loues him
Prince. That would I know too, I warrant one that
knowes him not
Cla. Yes, and his ill conditions, and in despight of all,
dies for him
Prin. Shee shall be buried with her face vpwards
Bene. Yet is this no charme for the tooth-ake, old signior, walke aside with mee, I haue studied eight or nine wise words to speake to you, which these hobby-horses must not heare
Prin. For my life to breake with him about Beatrice
Clau. 'Tis euen so, Hero and Margaret haue by this played their parts with Beatrice, and then the two Beares will not bite one another when they meete. Enter Iohn the Bastard.
Bast. My Lord and brother, God saue you
Prin. Good den brother
Bast. If your leisure seru'd, I would speake with you
Prince. In priuate?
Bast. If it please you, yet Count Claudio may heare,
for what I would speake of, concernes him
Prin. What's the matter?
Basta. Meanes your Lordship to be married to morrow?
Prin. You know he does
Bast. I know not that when he knowes what I know
Clau. If there be any impediment, I pray you discouer it
Bast. You may thinke I loue you not, let that appeare hereafter, and ayme better at me by that I now will manifest, for my brother (I thinke, he holds you well, and in dearenesse of heart) hath holpe to effect your ensuing marriage: surely sute ill spent, and labour ill bestowed
Prin. Why, what's the matter?
Bastard. I came hither to tell you, and circumstances
shortned, (for she hath beene too long a talking of) the
Lady is disloyall
Clau. Who Hero?
Bast. Euen shee, Leonatoes Hero, your Hero, euery
mans Hero
Clau. Disloyall? Bast. The word is too good to paint out her wickednesse, I could say she were worse, thinke you of a worse title, and I will fit her to it: wonder not till further warrant: goe but with mee to night, you shal see her chamber window entred, euen the night before her wedding day, if you loue her, then to morrow wed her: But it would better fit your honour to change your minde
Claud. May this be so?
Princ. I will not thinke it
Bast. If you dare not trust that you see, confesse not that you know: if you will follow mee, I will shew you enough, and when you haue seene more, & heard more, proceed accordingly
Clau. If I see any thing to night, why I should not marry her to morrow in the congregation, where I shold wedde, there will I shame her
Prin. And as I wooed for thee to obtaine her, I will ioyne with thee to disgrace her
Bast. I will disparage her no farther, till you are my witnesses, beare it coldly but till night, and let the issue shew it selfe
Prin. O day vntowardly turned!
Claud. O mischiefe strangelie thwarting!
Bastard. O plague right well preuented! so will you
say, when you haue seene the sequele.
Enter.
Enter Dogbery and his compartner with the watch.
Dog. Are you good men and true?
Verg. Yea, or else it were pitty but they should suffer
saluation body and soule
Dogb. Nay, that were a punishment too good for them, if they should haue any allegiance in them, being chosen for the Princes watch
Verges. Well, giue them their charge, neighbour
Dogbery
Dog. First, who thinke you the most desartlesse man
to be Constable
Watch.1. Hugh Ote-cake sir, or George Sea-coale, for
they can write and reade
Dogb. Come hither neighbour Sea-coale, God hath blest you with a good name: to be a wel-fauoured man, is the gift of Fortune, but to write and reade, comes by Nature
Watch 2. Both which Master Constable Dogb. You haue: I knew it would be your answere: well, for your fauour sir, why giue God thankes, & make no boast of it, and for your writing and reading, let that appeare when there is no need of such vanity, you are thought heere to be the most senslesse and fit man for the Constable of the watch: therefore beare you the lanthorne: this is your charge: You shall comprehend all vagrom men, you are to bid any man stand in the Princes name
Watch 2. How if a will not stand?
Dogb. Why then take no note of him, but let him go,
and presently call the rest of the Watch together, and
thanke God you are ridde of a knaue
Verges. If he will not stand when he is bidden, hee is
none of the Princes subiects
Dogb. True, and they are to meddle with none but the Princes subiects: you shall also make no noise in the streetes: for, for the Watch to babble and talke, is most tollerable, and not to be indured
Watch. We will rather sleepe than talke, wee know what belongs to a Watch
Dog. Why you speake like an ancient and most quiet watchman, for I cannot see how sleeping should offend: only haue a care that your bills be not stolne: well, you are to call at all the Alehouses, and bid them that are drunke get them to bed
Watch. How if they will not?
Dogb. Why then let them alone till they are sober, if
they make you not then the better answere, you may say,
they are not the men you tooke them for
Watch. Well sir, Dogb. If you meet a theefe, you may suspect him, by vertue of your office, to be no true man: and for such kinde of men, the lesse you meddle or make with them, why the more is for your honesty
Watch. If wee know him to be a thiefe, shall wee not lay hands on him
Dogb. Truly by your office you may, but I think they that touch pitch will be defil'd: the most peaceable way for you, if you doe take a theefe, is, to let him shew himselfe what he is, and steale out of your company
Ver. You haue bin alwaies cal'd a merciful ma[n] partner
Dog. Truely I would not hang a dog by my will, much
more a man who hath anie honestie in him
Verges. If you heare a child crie in the night you must
call to the nurse, and bid her still it
Watch. How if the nurse be asleepe and will not heare vs? Dog. Why then depart in peace, and let the childe wake her with crying, for the ewe that will not heare her Lambe when it baes, will neuer answere a calfe when he bleates
Verges. 'Tis verie true
Dog. This is the end of the charge: you constable are to present the Princes owne person, if you meete the Prince in the night, you may staie him
Verges. Nay birladie that I thinke a cannot
Dog. Fiue shillings to one on't with anie man that knowes the Statutes, he may staie him, marrie not without the prince be willing, for indeed the watch ought to offend no man, and it is an offence to stay a man against his will
Verges. Birladie I thinke it be so
Dog. Ha, ah ha, well masters good night, and there be anie matter of weight chances, call vp me, keepe your fellowes counsailes, and your owne, and good night, come neighbour
Watch. Well masters, we heare our charge, let vs go sit here vpon the Church bench till two, and then all to bed
Dog. One word more, honest neighbors. I pray you watch about signior Leonatoes doore, for the wedding being there to morrow, there is a great coyle to night, adiew, be vigitant I beseech you.
Exeunt.
Enter Borachio and Conrade.
Bor. What, Conrade?
Watch. Peace, stir not
Bor. Conrade I say
Con. Here man, I am at thy elbow
Bor. Mas and my elbow itcht, I thought there would
a scabbe follow
Con. I will owe thee an answere for that, and now
forward with thy tale
Bor. Stand thee close then vnder this penthouse, for it drissels raine, and I will, like a true drunkard, vtter all to thee
Watch. Some treason masters, yet stand close
Bor. Therefore know, I haue earned of Don Iohn a thousand Ducates
Con. Is it possible that anie villanie should be so deare? Bor. Thou should'st rather aske if it were possible anie villanie should be so rich? for when rich villains haue neede of poore ones, poore ones may make what price they will
Con. I wonder at it
Bor. That shewes thou art vnconfirm'd, thou knowest that the fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or a cloake, is nothing to a man
Con. Yes, it is apparell
Bor. I meane the fashion
Con. Yes the fashion is the fashion
Bor. Tush, I may as well say the foole's the foole, but seest thou not what a deformed theefe this fashion is? Watch. I know that deformed, a has bin a vile theefe, this vii. yeares, a goes vp and downe like a gentle man: I remember his name
Bor. Did'st thou not heare some bodie?
Con. No, 'twas the vaine on the house
Bor. Seest thou not (I say) what a deformed thiefe this fashion is, how giddily a turnes about all the Hotblouds, betweene, foureteene & fiue & thirtie, sometimes fashioning them like Pharaoes souldiours in the rechie painting, sometime like god Bels priests in the old Church window, sometime like the shauen Hercules in the smircht worm-eaten tapestrie, where his cod-peece seemes as massie as his club
Con. All this I see, and see that the fashion weares out more apparrell then the man; but art not thou thy selfe giddie with the fashion too that thou hast shifted out of thy tale into telling me of the fashion? Bor. Not so neither, but know that I haue to night wooed Margaret the Lady Heroes gentle-woman, by the name of Hero, she leanes me out at her mistris chamberwindow, bids me a thousand times good night: I tell this tale vildly. I should first tell thee how the Prince Claudio and my Master planted, and placed, and possessed by my Master Don Iohn, saw a far off in the Orchard this amiable incounter
Con. And thought thy Margaret was Hero? Bor. Two of them did, the Prince and Claudio, but the diuell my Master knew she was Margaret and partly by his oathes, which first possest them, partly by the darke night which did deceiue them, but chiefely, by my villanie, which did confirme any slander that Don Iohn had made, away went Claudio enraged, swore hee would meete her as he was apointed next morning at the Temple, and there, before the whole congregation shame her with what he saw o're night, and send her home againe without a husband
Watch.1. We charge you in the Princes name stand
Watch.2. Call vp the right master Constable, we haue here recouered the most dangerous peece of lechery, that euer was knowne in the Common-wealth
Watch.1. And one Deformed is one of them, I know him, a weares a locke
Conr. Masters, masters
Watch.2. Youle be made bring deformed forth I warrant
you,
Conr. Masters, neuer speake, we charge you, let vs obey
you to goe with vs
Bor. We are like to proue a goodly commoditie, being
taken vp of these mens bils
Conr. A commoditie in question I warrant you, come
weele obey you.
Exeunt.
Enter Hero, and Margaret, and Vrsula.
Hero. Good Vrsula wake my cosin Beatrice, and desire her to rise
Vrsu. I will Lady
Her. And bid her come hither
Vrs. Well
Mar. Troth I thinke your other rebato were better
Hero. No pray thee good Meg, Ile weare this
Marg. By my troth's not so good, and I warrant your
cosin will say so
Hero. My cosin's a foole, and thou art another, ile
weare none but this
Mar. I like the new tire within excellently, if the haire were a thought browner: and your gown's a most rare fashion yfaith, I saw the Dutchesse of Millaines gowne that they praise so
Hero. O that exceedes they say
Mar. By my troth's but a night-gowne in respect of yours, cloth a gold and cuts, and lac'd with siluer, set with pearles, downe sleeues, side sleeues, and skirts, round vnderborn with a blewish tinsel, but for a fine queint gracefull and excellent fashion, yours is worth ten on't
Hero. God giue mee ioy to weare it, for my heart is
exceeding heauy
Marga. 'Twill be heauier soone, by the waight of a
man
Hero. Fie vpon thee, art not asham'd? Marg. Of what Lady? of speaking honourably? is not marriage honourable in a beggar? is not your Lord honourable without marriage? I thinke you would haue me say, sauing your reuerence a husband: and bad thinking doe not wrest true speaking, Ile offend no body, is there any harme in the heauier for a husband? none I thinke, and it be the right husband, and the right wife, otherwise 'tis light and not heauy, aske my Lady Beatrice else, here she comes. Enter Beatrice.
Hero. Good morrow Coze
Beat. Good morrow sweet Hero
Hero. Why how now? do you speake in the sick tune?
Beat. I am out of all other tune, me thinkes
Mar. Claps into Light a loue, (that goes without a
burden,) do you sing it and Ile dance it
Beat. Ye Light aloue with your heeles, then if your husband haue stables enough, you'll looke he shall lacke no barnes
Mar. O illegitimate construction! I scorne that with
my heeles
Beat. 'Tis almost fiue a clocke cosin, 'tis time you
were ready, by my troth I am exceeding ill, hey ho
Mar. For a hauke, a horse, or a husband?
Beat. For the letter that begins them all, H
Mar. Well, and you be not turn'd Turke, there's no
more sayling by the starre
Beat. What meanes the foole trow?
Mar. Nothing I, but God send euery one their harts
desire
Hero. These gloues the Count sent mee, they are an
excellent perfume
Beat. I am stuft cosin, I cannot smell
Mar. A maid and stuft! there's goodly catching of
colde
Beat. O God helpe me, God help me, how long haue
you profest apprehension?
Mar. Euer since you left it, doth not my wit become
me rarely?
Beat. It is not seene enough, you should weare it in
your cap, by my troth I am sicke
Mar. Get you some of this distill'd carduus benedictus
and lay it to your heart, it is the onely thing for a qualm
Hero. There thou prick'st her with a thissell
Beat. Benedictus, why benedictus? you haue some morall in this benedictus
Mar. Morall? no by my troth, I haue no morall meaning, I meant plaine holy thissell, you may thinke perchance that I thinke you are in loue, nay birlady I am not such a foole to thinke what I list, nor I list not to thinke what I can, nor indeed, I cannot thinke, if I would thinke my hart out of thinking, that you are in loue, or that you will be in loue, or that you can be in loue: yet Benedicke was such another, and now is he become a man, he swore hee would neuer marry, and yet now in despight of his heart he eates his meat without grudging, and how you may be conuerted I know not, but me thinkes you looke with your eies as other women doe
Beat. What pace is this that thy tongue keepes
Mar. Not a false gallop.
Enter Vrsula.
Vrsula. Madam, withdraw, the Prince, the Count, signior Benedicke, Don Iohn, and all the gallants of the towne are come to fetch you to Church
Hero. Helpe me to dresse mee good coze, good Meg,
good Vrsula.
Enter Leonato, and the Constable, and the Headborough.
Leonato. What would you with mee, honest neighbour?
Const.Dog. Mary sir I would haue some confidence
with you, that decernes you nearely
Leon. Briefe I pray you, for you see it is a busie time
with me
Const.Dog. Mary this it is sir
Headb. Yes in truth it is sir
Leon. What is it my good friends? Con.Do. Goodman Verges sir speakes a little of the matter, an old man sir, and his wits are not so blunt, as God helpe I would desire they were, but infaith honest as the skin betweene his browes
Head. Yes I thank God, I am as honest as any man liuing,
that is an old man, and no honester then I
Con.Dog. Comparisons are odorous, palabras, neighbour
Verges
Leon. Neighbours, you are tedious
Con.Dog. It pleases your worship to say so, but we are the poore Dukes officers, but truely for mine owne part, if I were as tedious as a King I could finde in my heart to bestow it all of your worship
Leon. All thy tediousnesse on me, ah? Const.Dog. Yea, and 'twere a thousand times more than 'tis, for I heare as good exclamation on your Worship as of any man in the Citie, and though I bee but a poore man, I am glad to heare it
Head. And so am I
Leon. I would faine know what you haue to say
Head. Marry sir our watch to night, excepting your worships presence, haue tane a couple of as arrant knaues as any in Messina
Con.Dog. A good old man sir, hee will be talking as they say, when the age is in, the wit is out, God helpe vs, it is a world to see: well said yfaith neighbour Verges, well, God's a good man, and two men ride of a horse, one must ride behinde, an honest soule yfaith sir, by my troth he is, as euer broke bread, but God is to bee worshipt, all men are not alike, alas good neighbour
Leon. Indeed neighbour he comes too short of you
Con.Do. Gifts that God giues
Leon. I must leaue you
Con.Dog. One word sir, our watch sir haue indeede comprehended two aspitious persons, & we would haue them this morning examined before your worship
Leon. Take their examination your selfe, and bring it me, I am now in great haste, as may appeare vnto you
Const. It shall be suffigance
Leon. Drinke some wine ere you goe: fare you well.
Enter.
Messenger. My Lord, they stay for you to giue your
daughter to her husband
Leon. Ile wait vpon them, I am ready
Dogb. Goe good partner, goe get you to Francis Seacoale, bid him bring his pen and inkehorne to the Gaole: we are now to examine those men
Verges. And we must doe it wisely
Dogb. Wee will spare for no witte I warrant you: heere's that shall driue some to a non-come, only get the learned writer to set downe our excommunication, and meet me at the Iaile.
Exeunt.
Actus Quartus.
Enter Prince, Bastard, Leonato, Frier, Claudio, Benedicke, Hero,
and
Beatrice.
Leonato. Come Frier Francis, be briefe, onely to the plaine forme of marriage, and you shal recount their particular duties afterwards
Fran. You come hither, my Lord, to marry this Lady
Clau. No
Leo. To be married to her: Frier, you come to marrie
her
Frier. Lady, you come hither to be married to this
Count
Hero. I doe
Frier. If either of you know any inward impediment why you should not be conioyned, I charge you on your soules to vtter it
Claud. Know you anie, Hero?
Hero. None my Lord
Frier. Know you anie, Count?
Leon. I dare make his answer, None
Clau. O what men dare do! what men may do! what
men daily do!
Bene. How now! interiections? why then, some be
of laughing, as ha, ha, he
Clau. Stand thee by Frier, father, by your leaue,
Will you with free and vnconstrained soule
Giue me this maid your daughter?
Leon. As freely sonne as God did giue her me
Cla. And what haue I to giue you back, whose worth
May counterpoise this rich and precious gift?
Prin. Nothing, vnlesse you render her againe
Clau. Sweet Prince, you learn me noble thankfulnes:
There Leonato, take her backe againe,
Giue not this rotten Orenge to your friend,
Shee's but the signe and semblance of her honour:
Behold how like a maid she blushes heere!
O what authoritie and shew of truth
Can cunning sinne couer it selfe withall!
Comes not that bloud, as modest euidence,
To witnesse simple Vertue? would you not sweare
All you that see her, that she were a maide,
By these exterior shewes? But she is none:
She knowes the heat of a luxurious bed:
Her blush is guiltinesse, not modestie
Leonato. What doe you meane, my Lord?
Clau. Not to be married,
Not to knit my soule to an approued wanton
Leon. Deere my Lord, if you in your owne proofe,
Haue vanquisht the resistance of her youth,
And made defeat of her virginitie
Clau. I know what you would say: if I haue knowne
(her,
You will say, she did imbrace me as a husband,
And so extenuate the forehand sinne: No Leonato,
I neuer tempted her with word too large,
But as a brother to his sister, shewed
Bashfull sinceritie and comely loue
Hero. And seem'd I euer otherwise to you?
Clau. Out on thee seeming, I will write against it,
You seeme to me as Diane in her Orbe,
As chaste as is the budde ere it be blowne:
But you are more intemperate in your blood,
Than Venus, or those pampred animalls,
That rage in sauage sensualitie
Hero. Is my Lord well, that he doth speake so wide?
Leon. Sweete Prince, why speake not you?
Prin. What should I speake?
I stand dishonour'd that haue gone about,
To linke my deare friend to a common stale
Leon. Are these things spoken, or doe I but dreame?
Bast. Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true
Bene. This lookes not like a nuptiall
Hero. True, O God!
Clau. Leonato, stand I here?
Is this the Prince? is this the Princes brother?
Is this face Heroes? are our eies our owne?
Leon. All this is so, but what of this my Lord?
Clau. Let me but moue one question to your daughter,
And by that fatherly and kindly power,
That you haue in her, bid her answer truly
Leo. I charge thee doe, as thou art my childe
Hero. O God defend me how am I beset,
What kinde of catechizing call you this?
Clau. To make you answer truly to your name
Hero. Is it not Hero? who can blot that name
With any iust reproach?
Claud. Marry that can Hero,
Hero it selfe can blot out Heroes vertue.
What man was he, talkt with you yesternight,
Out at your window betwixt twelue and one?
Now if you are a maid, answer to this
Hero. I talkt with no man at that howre my Lord
Prince. Why then you are no maiden. Leonato,
I am sorry you must heare: vpon mine honor,
My selfe, my brother, and this grieued Count
Did see her, heare her, at that howre last night,
Talke with a ruffian at her chamber window,
Who hath indeed most like a liberall villaine,
Confest the vile encounters they haue had
A thousand times in secret
Iohn. Fie, fie, they are not to be named my Lord,
Not to be spoken of,
There is not chastitie enough in language,
Without offence to vtter them: thus pretty Lady
I am sorry for thy much misgouernment
Claud. O Hero! what a Hero hadst thou beene
If halfe thy outward graces had beene placed
About thy thoughts and counsailes of thy heart?
But fare thee well, most foule, most faire, farewell
Thou pure impiety, and impious puritie,
For thee Ile locke vp all the gates of Loue,
And on my eie-lids shall Coniecture hang,
To turne all beauty into thoughts of harme,
And neuer shall it more be gracious
Leon. Hath no mans dagger here a point for me?
Beat. Why how now cosin, wherfore sink you down?
Bast. Come, let vs go: these things come thus to light,
Smother her spirits vp
Bene. How doth the Lady?
Beat. Dead I thinke, helpe vncle,
Hero, why Hero, Vncle, Signor Benedicke, Frier
Leonato. O Fate! take not away thy heauy hand,
Death is the fairest couer for her shame
That may be wisht for
Beatr. How now cosin Hero?
Fri. Haue comfort Ladie
Leon. Dost thou looke vp?
Frier. Yea, wherefore should she not?
Leon. Wherfore? Why doth not euery earthly thing
Cry shame vpon her? Could she heere denie
The storie that is printed in her blood?
Do not liue Hero, do not ope thine eyes:
For did I thinke thou wouldst not quickly die,
Thought I thy spirits were stronger then thy shames,
My selfe would on the reward of reproaches
Strike at thy life. Grieu'd I, I had but one?
Chid I, for that at frugal Natures frame?
O one too much by thee: why had I one?
Why euer was't thou louelie in my eies?
Why had I not with charitable hand
Tooke vp a beggars issue at my gates,
Who smeered thus, and mir'd with infamie,
I might haue said, no part of it is mine:
This shame deriues it selfe from vnknowne loines,
But mine, and mine I lou'd, and mine I prais'd,
And mine that I was proud on mine so much,
That I my selfe, was to my selfe not mine:
Valewing of her, why she, O she is falne
Into a pit of Inke, that the wide sea
Hath drops too few to wash her cleane againe,
And salt too little, which may season giue
To her foule tainted flesh
Ben. Sir, sir, be patient: for my part, I am so attired
in wonder, I know not what to say
Bea. O on my soule my cosin is belied
Ben. Ladie, were you her bedfellow last night?
Bea. No, truly: not although vntill last night,
I haue this tweluemonth bin her bedfellow
Leon. Confirm'd, confirm'd, O that is stronger made
Which was before barr'd vp with ribs of iron.
Would the Princes lie, and Claudio lie,
Who lou'd her so, that speaking of her foulnesse,
Wash'd it with teares? Hence from her, let her die
Fri. Heare me a little, for I haue onely bene silent so
long, and giuen way vnto this course of fortune, by noting
of the Ladie, I haue markt.
A thousand blushing apparitions,
To start into her face, a thousand innocent shames,
In Angel whitenesse beare away those blushes,
And in her eie there hath appear'd a fire
To burne the errors that these Princes hold
Against her maiden truth. Call me a foole,
Trust not my reading, nor my obseruations,
Which with experimental seale doth warrant
The tenure of my booke: trust not my age,
My reuerence, calling, nor diuinitie,
If this sweet Ladie lye not guiltlesse heere,
Vnder some biting error
Leo. Friar, it cannot be:
Thou seest that all the Grace that she hath left,
Is, that she wil not adde to her damnation,
A sinne of periury, she not denies it:
Why seek'st thou then to couer with excuse,
That which appeares in proper nakednesse?
Fri. Ladie, what man is he you are accus'd of?
Hero. They know that do accuse me, I know none:
If I know more of any man aliue
Then that which maiden modestie doth warrant,
Let all my sinnes lacke mercy. O my Father,
Proue you that any man with me conuerst,
At houres vnmeete, or that I yesternight
Maintain'd the change of words with any creature,
Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death
Fri. There is some strange misprision in the Princes
Ben. Two of them haue the verie bent of honor,
And if their wisedomes be misled in this:
The practise of it liues in Iohn the bastard,
Whose spirits toile in frame of villanies
Leo. I know not: if they speake but truth of her,
These hands shall teare her: If they wrong her honour,
The proudest of them shall wel heare of it.
Time hath not yet so dried this bloud of mine,
Nor age so eate vp my inuention,
Nor Fortune made such hauocke of my meanes,
Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends,
But they shall finde, awak'd in such a kinde,
Both strength of limbe, and policie of minde,
Ability in meanes, and choise of friends,
To quit me of them throughly
Fri. Pause awhile:
And let my counsell sway you in this case,
Your daughter heere the Princesse (left for dead)
Let her awhile be secretly kept in,
And publish it, that she is dead indeed:
Maintaine a mourning ostentation,
And on your Families old monument,
Hang mournfull Epitaphes, and do all rites,
That appertaine vnto a buriall
Leon. What shall become of this? What wil this do?
Fri. Marry this wel carried, shall on her behalfe,
Change slander to remorse, that is some good,
But not for that dreame I on this strange course,
But on this trauaile looke for greater birth:
She dying, as it must be so maintain'd,
Vpon the instant that she was accus'd,
Shal be lamented, pittied, and excus'd
Of euery hearer: for it so fals out,
That what we haue, we prize not to the worth,
Whiles we enioy it; but being lack'd and lost,
Why then we racke the value, then we finde
The vertue that possession would not shew vs
Whiles it was ours, so will it fare with Claudio:
When he shal heare she dyed vpon his words,
Th' Idea of her life shal sweetly creepe
Into his study of imagination.
And euery louely Organ of her life,
Shall come apparel'd in more precious habite:
More mouing delicate, and ful of life,
Into the eye and prospect of his soule
Then when she liu'd indeed: then shal he mourne,
If euer Loue had interest in his Liuer,
And wish he had not so accused her:
No, though he thought his accusation true:
Let this be so, and doubt not but successe
Wil fashion the euent in better shape,
Then I can lay it downe in likelihood.
But if all ayme but this be leuelld false,
The supposition of the Ladies death,
Will quench the wonder of her infamie.
And if it sort not well, you may conceale her
As best befits her wounded reputation,
In some reclusiue and religious life,
Out of all eyes, tongues, mindes and iniuries
Bene. Signior Leonato, let the Frier aduise you,
And though you know my inwardnesse and loue
Is very much vnto the Prince and Claudio.
Yet, by mine honor, I will deale in this,
As secretly and iustlie, as your soule
Should with your bodie
Leon. Being that I flow in greefe,
The smallest twine may lead me
Frier. 'Tis well consented, presently away,
For to strange sores, strangely they straine the cure,
Come Lady, die to liue, this wedding day
Perhaps is but prolong'd, haue patience & endure.
Enter.
Bene. Lady Beatrice, haue you wept all this while?
Beat. Yea, and I will weepe a while longer
Bene. I will not desire that
Beat. You haue no reason, I doe it freely
Bene. Surelie I do beleeue your fair cosin is wrong'd
Beat. Ah, how much might the man deserue of mee
that would right her!
Bene. Is there any way to shew such friendship?
Beat. A verie euen way, but no such friend
Bene. May a man doe it?
Beat. It is a mans office, but not yours
Bene. I doe loue nothing in the world so well as you, is not that strange? Beat. As strange as the thing I know not, it were as possible for me to say, I loued nothing so well as you, but beleeue me not, and yet I lie not, I confesse nothing, nor I deny nothing, I am sorry for my cousin
Bene. By my sword Beatrice thou lou'st me
Beat. Doe not sweare by it and eat it
Bene. I will sweare by it that you loue mee, and I will
make him eat it that sayes I loue not you
Beat. Will you not eat your word?
Bene. With no sawce that can be deuised to it, I protest
I loue thee
Beat. Why then God forgiue me
Bene. What offence sweet Beatrice?
Beat. You haue stayed me in a happy howre, I was about
to protest I loued you
Bene. And doe it with all thy heart
Beat. I loue you with so much of my heart, that none is left to protest
Bened. Come, bid me doe any thing for thee
Beat. Kill Claudio
Bene. Ha, not for the wide world
Beat. You kill me to denie, farewell
Bene. Tarrie sweet Beatrice
Beat. I am gone, though I am heere, there is no loue in you, nay I pray you let me goe
Bene. Beatrice
Beat. Infaith I will goe
Bene. Wee'll be friends first
Beat. You dare easier be friends with mee, than fight with mine enemy
Bene. Is Claudio thine enemie? Beat. Is a not approued in the height a villaine, that hath slandered, scorned, dishonoured my kinswoman? O that I were a man! what, beare her in hand vntill they come to take hands, and then with publike accusation vncouered slander, vnmittigated rancour? O God that I were a man! I would eat his heart in the market-place
Bene. Heare me Beatrice
Beat. Talke with a man out at a window, a proper saying
Bene. Nay but Beatrice
Beat. Sweet Hero, she is wrong'd, shee is slandered, she is vndone
Bene. Beat? Beat. Princes and Counties! surelie a Princely testimonie, a goodly Count, Comfect, a sweet Gallant surelie, O that I were a man for his sake! or that I had any friend would be a man for my sake! But manhood is melted into cursies, valour into complement, and men are onelie turned into tongue, and trim ones too: he is now as valiant as Hercules, that only tells a lie, and sweares it: I cannot be a man with wishing, therfore I will die a woman with grieuing
Bene. Tarry good Beatrice, by this hand I loue thee
Beat. Vse it for my loue some other way then swearing
by it
Bened. Thinke you in your soule the Count Claudio
hath wrong'd Hero?
Beat. Yea, as sure as I haue a thought, or a soule
Bene. Enough, I am engagde, I will challenge him, I will kisse your hand, and so leaue you: by this hand Claudio shall render me a deere account: as you heare of me, so thinke of me: goe comfort your coosin, I must say she is dead, and so farewell. Enter the Constables, Borachio, and the Towne Clerke in gownes.
Keeper. Is our whole dissembly appeard?
Cowley. O a stoole and a cushion for the Sexton
Sexton. Which be the malefactors?
Andrew. Marry that am I, and my partner
Cowley. Nay that's certaine, wee haue the exhibition
to examine
Sexton. But which are the offenders that are to be examined,
let them come before master Constable
Kemp. Yea marry, let them come before mee, what is
your name, friend?
Bor. Borachio
Kem. Pray write downe Borachio. Yours sirra
Con. I am a Gentleman sir, and my name is Conrade
Kee. Write downe Master gentleman Conrade: maisters, doe you serue God: maisters, it is proued alreadie that you are little better than false knaues, and it will goe neere to be thought so shortly, how answer you for your selues? Con. Marry sir, we say we are none
Kemp. A maruellous witty fellow I assure you, but I will goe about with him: come you hither sirra, a word in your eare sir, I say to you, it is thought you are false knaues
Bor. Sir, I say to you, we are none
Kemp. Well, stand aside, 'fore God they are both in
a tale: haue you writ downe that they are none?
Sext. Master Constable, you goe not the way to examine,
you must call forth the watch that are their accusers
Kemp. Yea marry, that's the eftest way, let the watch come forth: masters, I charge you in the Princes name, accuse these men
Watch 1. This man said sir, that Don Iohn the Princes
brother was a villaine
Kemp. Write down, Prince Iohn a villaine: why this
is flat periurie, to call a Princes brother villaine
Bora. Master Constable
Kemp. Pray thee fellow peace, I do not like thy looke
I promise thee
Sexton. What heard you him say else?
Watch 2. Mary that he had receiued a thousand Dukates
of Don Iohn, for accusing the Lady Hero wrongfully
Kemp. Flat Burglarie as euer was committed
Const. Yea by th' masse that it is
Sexton. What else fellow?
Watch 1. And that Count Claudio did meane vpon his
words, to disgrace Hero before the whole assembly, and
not marry her
Kemp. O villaine! thou wilt be condemn'd into euerlasting
redemption for this
Sexton. What else?
Watch. This is all
Sexton. And this is more masters then you can deny, Prince Iohn is this morning secretly stolne away: Hero was in this manner accus'd, in this very manner refus'd, and vpon the griefe of this sodainely died: Master Constable, let these men be bound, and brought to Leonato, I will goe before, and shew him their examination
Const. Come, let them be opinion'd
Sex. Let them be in the hands of Coxcombe
Kem. Gods my life, where's the Sexton? let him write downe the Princes Officer Coxcombe: come, binde them thou naughty varlet
Couley. Away, you are an asse, you are an asse
Kemp. Dost thou not suspect my place? dost thou not suspect my yeeres? O that hee were heere to write mee downe an asse! but masters, remember that I am an asse: though it be not written down, yet forget not y I am an asse: No thou villaine, y art full of piety as shall be prou'd vpon thee by good witnesse, I am a wise fellow, and which is more, an officer, and which is more, a houshoulder, and which is more, as pretty a peece of flesh as any in Messina, and one that knowes the Law, goe to, & a rich fellow enough, goe to, and a fellow that hath had losses, and one that hath two gownes, and euery thing handsome about him: bring him away: O that I had been writ downe an asse! Enter.
Actus Quintus.
Enter Leonato and his brother.
Brother. If you goe on thus, you will kill your selfe,
And 'tis not wisedome thus to second griefe,
Against your selfe
Leon. I pray thee cease thy counsaile,
Which falls into mine eares as profitlesse,
As water in a siue: giue not me counsaile,
Nor let no comfort delight mine eare,
But such a one whose wrongs doth sute with mine.
Bring me a father that so lou'd his childe,
Whose ioy of her is ouer-whelmed like mine,
And bid him speake of patience,
Measure his woe the length and bredth of mine,
And let it answere euery straine for straine,
As thus for thus, and such a griefe for such,
In euery lineament, branch, shape, and forme:
If such a one will smile and stroke his beard,
And sorrow, wagge, crie hem, when he should grone,
Patch griefe with prouerbs, make misfortune drunke,
With candle-wasters: bring him yet to me,
And I of him will gather patience:
But there is no such man, for brother, men
Can counsaile, and speake comfort to that griefe,
Which they themselues not feele, but tasting it,
Their counsaile turnes to passion, which before,
Would giue preceptiall medicine to rage,
Fetter strong madnesse in a silken thred,
Charme ache with ayre, and agony with words,
No, no, 'tis all mens office, to speake patience
To those that wring vnder the load of sorrow:
But no mans vertue nor sufficiencie
To be so morall, when he shall endure
The like himselfe: therefore giue me no counsaile,
My griefs cry lowder then aduertisement
Broth. Therein do men from children nothing differ
Leonato. I pray thee peace, I will be flesh and bloud,
For there was neuer yet Philosopher,
That could endure the tooth-ake patiently,
How euer they haue writ the stile of gods,
And made a push at chance and sufferance
Brother. Yet bend not all the harme vpon your selfe,
Make those that doe offend you, suffer too
Leon. There thou speak'st reason, nay I will doe so,
My soule doth tell me, Hero is belied,
And that shall Claudio know, so shall the Prince,
And all of them that thus dishonour her.
Enter Prince and Claudio.
Brot. Here comes the Prince and Claudio hastily
Prin. Good den, good den
Clau. Good day to both of you
Leon. Heare you my Lords?
Prin. We haue some haste Leonato
Leo. Some haste my Lord! wel, fareyouwel my Lord,
Are you so hasty now? well, all is one
Prin. Nay, do not quarrel with vs, good old man
Brot. If he could rite himselfe with quarrelling,
Some of vs would lie low
Claud. Who wrongs him?
Leon. Marry y dost wrong me, thou dissembler, thou:
Nay, neuer lay thy hand vpon thy sword,
I feare thee not
Claud. Marry beshrew my hand,
If it should giue your age such cause of feare,
Infaith my hand meant nothing to my sword
Leonato. Tush, tush, man, neuer fleere and iest at me,
I speake not like a dotard, nor a foole,
As vnder priuiledge of age to bragge,
What I haue done being yong, or what would doe,
Were I not old, know Claudio to thy head,
Thou hast so wrong'd my innocent childe and me,
That I am forc'd to lay my reuerence by,
And with grey haires and bruise of many daies,
Doe challenge thee to triall of a man,
I say thou hast belied mine innocent childe.
Thy slander hath gone through and through her heart,
And she lies buried with her ancestors:
O in a tombe where neuer scandall slept,
Saue this of hers, fram'd by thy villanie
Claud. My villany?
Leonato. Thine Claudio, thine I say
Prin. You say not right old man
Leon. My Lord, my Lord,
Ile proue it on his body if he dare,
Despight his nice fence, and his actiue practise,
His Maie of youth, and bloome of lustihood
Claud. Away, I will not haue to do with you
Leo. Canst thou so daffe me? thou hast kild my child,
If thou kilst me, boy, thou shalt kill a man
Bro. He shall kill two of vs, and men indeed,
But that's no matter, let him kill one first:
Win me and weare me, let him answere me,
Come follow me boy, come sir boy, come follow me
Sir boy, ile whip you from your foyning fence,
Nay, as I am a gentleman, I will
Leon. Brother
Brot. Content your self, God knows I lou'd my neece,
And she is dead, slander'd to death by villaines,
That dare as well answer a man indeede,
As I dare take a serpent by the tongue.
Boyes, apes, braggarts, Iackes, milke-sops
Leon. Brother Anthony
Brot. Hold you content, what man? I know them, yea
And what they weigh, euen to the vtmost scruple,
Scambling, out-facing, fashion-monging boyes,
That lye, and cog, and flout, depraue, and slander,
Goe antiquely, and show outward hidiousnesse,
And speake of halfe a dozen dang'rous words,
How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst.
And this is all
Leon. But brother Anthonie
Ant. Come, 'tis no matter,
Do not you meddle, let me deale in this
Pri. Gentlemen both, we will not wake your patience
My heart is sorry for your daughters death:
But on my honour she was charg'd with nothing
But what was true, and very full of proofe
Leon. My Lord, my Lord
Prin. I will not heare you.
Enter Benedicke.
Leo. No come brother, away, I will be heard.
Exeunt. ambo.
Bro. And shall, or some of vs will smart for it
Prin. See, see, here comes the man we went to seeke
Clau. Now signior, what newes?
Ben. Good day my Lord
Prin. Welcome signior, you are almost come to part
almost a fray
Clau. Wee had likt to haue had our two noses snapt
off with two old men without teeth
Prin. Leonato and his brother, what think'st thou? had wee fought, I doubt we should haue beene too yong for them
Ben. In a false quarrell there is no true valour, I came
to seeke you both
Clau. We haue beene vp and downe to seeke thee, for
we are high proofe melancholly, and would faine haue it
beaten away, wilt thou vse thy wit?
Ben. It is in my scabberd, shall I draw it?
Prin. Doest thou weare thy wit by thy side?
Clau. Neuer any did so, though verie many haue been
beside their wit, I will bid thee drawe, as we do the minstrels,
draw to pleasure vs
Prin. As I am an honest man he lookes pale, art thou
sicke, or angrie?
Clau. What, courage man: what though care kil'd a
cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care
Ben. Sir, I shall meete your wit in the careere, and
you charge it against me, I pray you chuse another subiect
Clau. Nay then giue him another staffe, this last was
broke crosse
Prin. By this light, he changes more and more, I thinke
he be angrie indeede
Clau. If he be, he knowes how to turne his girdle
Ben. Shall I speake a word in your eare?
Clau. God blesse me from a challenge
Ben. You are a villaine, I iest not, I will make it good how you dare, with what you dare, and when you dare: do me right, or I will protest your cowardise: you haue kill'd a sweete Ladie, and her death shall fall heauie on you, let me heare from you
Clau. Well, I will meete you, so I may haue good
cheare
Prin. What, a feast, a feast?
Clau. I faith I thanke him, he hath bid me to a calues
head and a Capon, the which if I doe not carue most curiously,
say my knife's naught, shall I not finde a woodcocke
too?
Ben. Sir, your wit ambles well, it goes easily
Prin. Ile tell thee how Beatrice prais'd thy wit the other day: I said thou hadst a fine wit: true saies she, a fine little one: no said I, a great wit: right saies shee, a great grosse one: nay said I, a good wit: iust said she, it hurts no body: nay said I, the gentleman is wise: certaine said she, a wise gentleman: nay said I, he hath the tongues: that I beleeue said shee, for hee swore a thing to me on munday night, which he forswore on tuesday morning: there's a double tongue, there's two tongues: thus did shee an howre together trans-shape thy particular vertues, yet at last she concluded with a sigh, thou wast the proprest man in Italie
Claud. For the which she wept heartily, and said shee car'd not
Prin. Yea that she did, but yet for all that, and if shee did not hate him deadlie, shee would loue him dearely, the old mans daughter told vs all
Clau. All, all, and moreouer, God saw him when he
was hid in the garden
Prin. But when shall we set the sauage Bulls hornes
on the sensible Benedicks head?
Clau. Yea and text vnderneath, heere dwells Benedicke
the married man
Ben. Fare you well, Boy, you know my minde, I will leaue you now to your gossep-like humor, you breake iests as braggards do their blades, which God be thanked hurt not: my Lord, for your manie courtesies I thank you, I must discontinue your companie, your brother the Bastard is fled from Messina: you haue among you, kill'd a sweet and innocent Ladie: for my Lord Lackebeard there, he and I shall meete, and till then peace be with him
Prin. He is in earnest
Clau. In most profound earnest, and Ile warrant you, for the loue of Beatrice
Prin. And hath challeng'd thee
Clau. Most sincerely
Prin. What a prettie thing man is, when he goes in his doublet and hose, and leaues off his wit. Enter Constable, Conrade, and Borachio.
Clau. He is then a Giant to an Ape, but then is an Ape a Doctor to such a man
Prin. But soft you, let me be, plucke vp my heart, and be sad, did he not say my brother was fled? Const. Come you sir, if iustice cannot tame you, shee shall nere weigh more reasons in her ballance, nay, and you be a cursing hypocrite once, you must be lookt to
Prin. How now, two of my brothers men bound? Borachio one
Clau. Harken after their offence my Lord
Prin. Officers, what offence haue these men done? Const. Marrie sir, they haue committed false report, moreouer they haue spoken vntruths, secondarily they are slanders, sixt and lastly, they haue belyed a Ladie, thirdly, they haue verified vniust things, and to conclude they are lying knaues
Prin. First I aske thee what they haue done, thirdlie I aske thee what's their offence, sixt and lastlie why they are committed, and to conclude, what you lay to their charge
Clau. Rightlie reasoned, and in his owne diuision, and by my troth there's one meaning well suted
Prin. Who haue you offended masters, that you are thus bound to your answer? this learned Constable is too cunning to be vnderstood, what's your offence? Bor. Sweete Prince, let me go no farther to mine answere: do you heare me, and let this Count kill mee: I haue deceiued euen your verie eies: what your wisedomes could not discouer, these shallow fooles haue brought to light, who in the night ouerheard me confessing to this man, how Don Iohn your brother incensed me to slander the Ladie Hero, how you were brought into the Orchard, and saw me court Margaret in Heroes garments, how you disgrac'd her when you should marrie her: my villanie they haue vpon record, which I had rather seale with my death, then repeate ouer to my shame: the Ladie is dead vpon mine and my masters false accusation: and briefelie, I desire nothing but the reward of a villaine
Prin. Runs not this speech like yron through your
bloud?
Clau. I haue drunke poison whiles he vtter'd it
Prin. But did my Brother set thee on to this?
Bor. Yea, and paid me richly for the practise of it
Prin. He is compos'd and fram'd of treacherie,
And fled he is vpon this villanie
Clau. Sweet Hero, now thy image doth appeare
In the rare semblance that I lou'd it first
Const. Come, bring away the plaintiffes, by this time our Sexton hath reformed Signior Leonato of the matter: and masters, do not forget to specifie when time & place shall serue, that I am an Asse
Con.2. Here, here comes master Signior Leonato, and
the Sexton too.
Enter Leonato.
Leon. Which is the villaine? let me see his eies,
That when I note another man like him,
I may auoide him: which of these is he?
Bor. If you would know your wronger, looke on me
Leon. Art thou the slaue that with thy breath
hast kild mine innocent childe?
Bor. Yea, euen I alone
Leo. No, not so villaine, thou beliest thy selfe,
Here stand a paire of honourable men,
A third is fled that had a hand in it:
I thanke you Princes for my daughters death,
Record it with your high and worthie deedes,
'Twas brauely done, if you bethinke you of it
Clau. I know not how to pray your patience,
Yet I must speake, choose your reuenge your selfe,
Impose me to what penance your inuention
Can lay vpon my sinne, yet sinn'd I not,
But in mistaking
Prin. By my soule nor I,
And yet to satisfie this good old man,
I would bend vnder anie heauie waight,
That heele enioyne me to
Leon. I cannot bid you bid my daughter liue,
That were impossible, but I praie you both,
Possesse the people in Messina here,
How innocent she died, and if your loue
Can labour aught in sad inuention,
Hang her an epitaph vpon her toomb,
And sing it to her bones, sing it to night:
To morrow morning come you to my house,
And since you could not be my sonne in law,
Be yet my Nephew: my brother hath a daughter,
Almost the copie of my childe that's dead,
And she alone is heire to both of vs,
Giue her the right you should haue giu'n her cosin,
And so dies my reuenge
Clau. O noble sir!
Your ouerkindnesse doth wring teares from me,
I do embrace your offer, and dispose
For henceforth of poore Claudio
Leon. To morrow then I will expect your comming,
To night I take my leaue, this naughtie man
Shall face to face be brought to Margaret,
Who I beleeue was packt in all this wrong,
Hired to it by your brother
Bor. No, by my soule she was not,
Nor knew not what she did when she spoke to me,
But alwaies hath bin iust and vertuous,
In anie thing that I do know by her
Const. Moreouer sir, which indeede is not vnder white and black, this plaintiffe here, the offendour did call mee asse, I beseech you let it be remembred in his punishment, and also the watch heard them talke of one Deformed, they say he weares a key in his eare and a lock hanging by it, and borrowes monie in Gods name, the which he hath vs'd so long, and neuer paied, that now men grow hard-harted and will lend nothing for Gods sake: praie you examine him vpon that point
Leon. I thanke thee for thy care and honest paines
Const. Your worship speakes like a most thankefull and reuerend youth, and I praise God for you
Leon. There's for thy paines
Const. God saue the foundation
Leon. Goe, I discharge thee of thy prisoner, and I thanke thee
Const. I leaue an arrant knaue with your worship, which I beseech your worship to correct your selfe, for the example of others: God keepe your worship, I wish your worship well, God restore you to health, I humblie giue you leaue to depart, and if a merrie meeting may be wisht, God prohibite it: come neighbour
Leon. Vntill to morrow morning, Lords, farewell.
Exeunt.
Brot. Farewell my Lords, we looke for you to morrow
Prin. We will not faile
Clau. To night ile mourne with Hero
Leon. Bring you these fellowes on, weel talke with Margaret, How her acquaintance grew with this lewd fellow.
Exeunt.
Enter Benedicke and Margaret.
Ben. Praie thee sweete Mistris Margaret, deserue well at my hands, by helping mee to the speech of Beatrice
Mar. Will you then write me a Sonnet in praise of my beautie? Bene. In so high a stile Margaret, that no man liuing shall come ouer it, for in most comely truth thou deseruest it
Mar. To haue no man come ouer me, why, shall I alwaies
keepe below staires?
Bene. Thy wit is as quicke as the grey-hounds mouth,
it catches
Mar. And yours, as blunt as the Fencers foiles, which
hit, but hurt not
Bene. A most manly wit Margaret, it will not hurt a woman: and so I pray thee call Beatrice, I giue thee the bucklers
Mar. Giue vs the swords, wee haue bucklers of our owne
Bene. If you vse them Margaret, you must put in the pikes with a vice, and they are dangerous weapons for Maides
Mar. Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who I thinke hath legges.
Exit Margarite.
Ben. And therefore will come. The God of loue that sits aboue, and knowes me, and knowes me, how pittifull I deserue. I meane in singing, but in louing, Leander the good swimmer, Troilous the first imploier of pandars, and a whole booke full of these quondam carpet-mongers, whose name yet runne smoothly in the euen rode of a blanke verse, why they were neuer so truely turned ouer and ouer as my poore selfe in loue: marrie I cannot shew it rime, I haue tried, I can finde out no rime to Ladie but babie, an innocent rime: for scorne, horne, a hard rime: for schoole foole, a babling rime: verie ominous endings, no, I was not borne vnder a riming Plannet, for I cannot wooe in festiuall tearmes: Enter Beatrice.
sweete Beatrice would'st thou come when I cal'd thee? Beat. Yea Signior, and depart when you bid me
Bene. O stay but till then
Beat. Then, is spoken: fare you well now, and yet ere I goe, let me goe with that I came, which is, with knowing what hath past betweene you and Claudio
Bene. Onely foule words, and thereupon I will kisse thee
Beat. Foule words is but foule wind, and foule wind is but foule breath, and foule breath is noisome, therefore I will depart vnkist
Bene. Thou hast frighted the word out of his right sence, so forcible is thy wit, but I must tell thee plainely, Claudio vndergoes my challenge, and either I must shortly heare from him, or I will subscribe him a coward, and I pray thee now tell me, for which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in loue with me? Beat. For them all together, which maintain'd so politique a state of euill, that they will not admit any good part to intermingle with them: but for which of my good parts did you first suffer loue for me? Bene. Suffer loue! a good epithite, I do suffer loue indeede, for I loue thee against my will, Beat. In spight of your heart I think, alas poore heart, if you spight it for my sake, I will spight it for yours, for I will neuer loue that which my friend hates
Bened. Thou and I are too wise to wooe peaceablie
Bea. It appeares not in this confession, there's not one wise man among twentie that will praise himselfe
Bene. An old, an old instance Beatrice, that liu'd in the time of good neighbours, if a man doe not erect in this age his owne tombe ere he dies, hee shall liue no longer in monuments, then the Bels ring, & the Widdow weepes
Beat. And how long is that thinke you? Ben. Question, why an hower in clamour and a quarter in rhewme, therfore is it most expedient for the wise, if Don worme (his conscience) finde no impediment to the contrarie, to be the trumpet of his owne vertues, as I am to my selfe so much for praising my selfe, who I my selfe will beare witnesse is praise worthie, and now tell me, how doth your cosin? Beat. Verie ill
Bene. And how doe you?
Beat. Verie ill too.
Enter Vrsula.
Bene. Serue God, loue me, and mend, there will I leaue
you too, for here comes one in haste
Vrs. Madam, you must come to your Vncle, yonders old coile at home, it is prooued my Ladie Hero hath bin falselie accusde, the Prince and Claudio mightilie abusde, and Don Iohn is the author of all, who is fled and gone: will you come presentlie? Beat. Will you go heare this newes Signior? Bene. I will liue in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eies: and moreouer, I will goe with thee to thy Vncles.
Exeunt.
Enter Claudio, Prince, and three or foure with Tapers.
Clau. Is this the monument of Leonato?
Lord. It is my Lord.
Epitaph.
Done to death by slanderous tongues,
Was the Hero that here lies:
Death in guerdon of her wrongs,
Giues her fame which neuer dies:
So the life that dyed with shame,
Liues in death with glorious fame.
Hang thou there vpon the tombe,
Praising her when I am dombe
Clau. Now musick sound & sing your solemn hymne
Song.
Pardon goddesse of the night,
Those that slew thy virgin knight,
For the which with songs of woe,
Round about her tombe they goe:
Midnight assist our mone, helpe vs to sigh and grone.
Heauily, heauily.
Graues yawne and yeelde your dead,
Till death be vttered,
Heauenly, heauenly
Lo. Now vnto thy bones good night, yeerely will I do this right
Prin. Good morrow masters, put your Torches out,
The wolues haue preied, and looke, the gentle day
Before the wheeles of Phoebus, round about
Dapples the drowsie East with spots of grey:
Thanks to you all, and leaue vs, fare you well
Clau. Good morrow masters, each his seuerall way
Prin. Come let vs hence, and put on other weedes,
And then to Leonatoes we will goe
Clau. And Hymen now with luckier issue speeds,
Then this for whom we rendred vp this woe.
Exeunt.
Enter Leonato, Bene. Marg. Vrsula, old man, Frier, Hero.
Frier. Did I not tell you she was innocent?
Leo. So are the Prince and Claudio who accus'd her,
Vpon the errour that you heard debated:
But Margaret was in some fault for this,
Although against her will as it appeares,
In the true course of all the question
Old. Well, I am glad that all things sort so well
Bene. And so am I, being else by faith enforc'd
To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it
Leo. Well daughter, and you gentlewomen all,
Withdraw into a chamber by your selues,
And when I send for you, come hither mask'd:
The Prince and Claudio promis'd by this howre
To visit me, you know your office Brother,
You must be father to your brothers daughter,
And giue her to young Claudio.
Exeunt. Ladies.
Old. Which I will doe with confirm'd countenance
Bene. Frier, I must intreat your paines, I thinke
Frier. To doe what Signior?
Bene. To binde me, or vndoe me, one of them:
Signior Leonato, truth it is good Signior,
Your neece regards me with an eye of fauour
Leo. That eye my daughter lent her, 'tis most true
Bene. And I doe with an eye of loue requite her
Leo. The sight whereof I thinke you had from me,
From Claudio, and the Prince, but what's your will?
Bened. Your answer sir is Enigmaticall,
But for my will, my will is, your good will
May stand with ours, this day to be conioyn'd,
In the state of honourable marriage,
In which (good Frier) I shall desire your helpe
Leon. My heart is with your liking
Frier. And my helpe.
Enter Prince and Claudio, with attendants.
Prin. Good morrow to this faire assembly
Leo. Good morrow Prince, good morrow Claudio:
We heere attend you, are you yet determin'd,
To day to marry with my brothers daughter?
Claud. Ile hold my minde were she an Ethiope
Leo. Call her forth brother, heres the Frier ready
Prin. Good morrow Benedicke, why what's the matter?
That you haue such a Februarie face,
So full of frost, of storme, and clowdinesse
Claud. I thinke he thinkes vpon the sauage bull:
Tush, feare not man, wee'll tip thy hornes with gold,
And all Europa shall reioyce at thee,
As once Europa did at lusty Ioue,
When he would play the noble beast in loue
Ben. Bull Ioue sir, had an amiable low,
And some such strange bull leapt your fathers Cow,
A got a Calfe in that same noble feat,
Much like to you, for you haue iust his bleat.
Enter brother, Hero, Beatrice, Margaret, Vrsula.
Cla. For this I owe you: here comes other recknings.
Which is the Lady I must seize vpon?
Leo. This same is she, and I doe giue you her
Cla. Why then she's mine, sweet let me see your face
Leon. No that you shal not, till you take her hand,
Before this Frier, and sweare to marry her
Clau. Giue me your hand before this holy Frier,
I am your husband if you like of me
Hero. And when I liu'd I was your other wife,
And when you lou'd, you were my other husband
Clau. Another Hero?
Hero. Nothing certainer.
One Hero died, but I doe liue,
And surely as I liue, I am a maid
Prin. The former Hero, Hero that is dead
Leon. Shee died my Lord, but whiles her slander liu'd
Frier. All this amazement can I qualifie,
When after that the holy rites are ended,
Ile tell you largely of faire Heroes death:
Meane time let wonder seeme familiar,
And to the chappell let vs presently
Ben. Soft and faire Frier, which is Beatrice?
Beat. I answer to that name, what is your will?
Bene. Doe not you loue me?
Beat. Why no, no more then reason
Bene. Why then your Vncle, and the Prince, & Claudio,
haue beene deceiued, they swore you did
Beat. Doe not you loue mee?
Bene. Troth no, no more then reason
Beat. Why then my Cosin Margaret and Vrsula
Are much deceiu'd, for they did sweare you did
Bene. They swore you were almost sicke for me
Beat. They swore you were wel-nye dead for me
Bene. 'Tis no matter, then you doe not loue me?
Beat. No truly, but in friendly recompence
Leon. Come Cosin, I am sure you loue the gentlema[n]
Clau. And Ile be sworne vpon't, that he loues her,
For heres a paper written in his hand,
A halting sonnet of his owne pure braine,
Fashioned to Beatrice
Hero. And heeres another,
Writ in my cosins hand, stolne from her pocket,
Containing her affection vnto Benedicke
Bene. A miracle, here's our owne hands against our hearts: come I will haue thee, but by this light I take thee for pittie
Beat. I would not denie you, but by this good day, I yeeld vpon great perswasion, & partly to saue your life, for I was told, you were in a consumption
Leon. Peace I will stop your mouth
Prin. How dost thou Benedicke the married man? Bene. Ile tell thee what Prince: a Colledge of witte-crackers cannot flout mee out of my humour, dost thou think I care for a Satyre or an Epigram? no, if a man will be beaten with braines, a shall weare nothing handsome about him: in briefe, since I do purpose to marry, I will thinke nothing to any purpose that the world can say against it, and therefore neuer flout at me, for I haue said against it: for man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion: for thy part Claudio, I did thinke to haue beaten thee, but in that thou art like to be my kinsman, liue vnbruis'd, and loue my cousin
Cla. I had well hop'd y wouldst haue denied Beatrice, y I might haue cudgel'd thee out of thy single life, to make thee a double dealer, which out of questio[n] thou wilt be, if my Cousin do not looke exceeding narrowly to thee
Bene. Come, come, we are friends, let's haue a dance ere we are married, that we may lighten our own hearts, and our wiues heeles
Leon. Wee'll haue dancing afterward
Bene. First, of my word, therfore play musick. Prince, thou art sad, get thee a wife, get thee a wife, there is no staff more reuerend then one tipt with horn. Enter. Mes.
Messen. My Lord, your brother Iohn is tane in flight,
And brought with armed men backe to Messina
Bene. Thinke not on him till to morrow, ile deuise
thee braue punishments for him: strike vp Pipers.
Dance.
FINIS. Much adoe about Nothing.
Loues Labour's lost
Actus primus.
Enter Ferdinand King of Nauarre, Berowne, Longauill, and
Dumane.
Ferdinand. Let Fame, that all hunt after in their liues,
Liue registred vpon our brazen Tombes,
And then grace vs in the disgrace of death:
when spight of cormorant deuouring Time,
Th' endeuour of this present breath may buy:
That honour which shall bate his sythes keene edge,
And make vs heyres of all eternitie.
Therefore braue Conquerours, for so you are,
That warre against your owne affections,
And the huge Armie of the worlds desires.
Our late edict shall strongly stand in force,
Nauar shall be the wonder of the world.
Our Court shall be a little Achademe,
Still and contemplatiue in liuing Art.
You three, Berowne, Dumaine, and Longauill,
Haue sworne for three yeeres terme, to liue with me:
My fellow Schollers, and to keepe those statutes
That are recorded in this scedule heere.
Your oathes are past, and now subscribe your names:
That his owne hand may strike his honour downe,
That violates the smallest branch heerein:
If you are arm'd to doe, as sworne to do,
Subscribe to your deepe oathes, and keepe it to
Longauill. I am resolu'd, 'tis but a three yeeres fast:
The minde shall banquet, though the body pine,
Fat paunches haue leane pates: and dainty bits,
Make rich the ribs, but bankerout the wits
Dumane. My louing Lord, Dumane is mortified,
The grosser manner of these worlds delights,
He throwes vpon the grosse worlds baser slaues:
To loue, to wealth, to pompe, I pine and die,
With all these liuing in Philosophie
Berowne. I can but say their protestation ouer,
So much, deare Liege, I haue already sworne,
That is, to liue and study heere three yeeres.
But there are other strict obseruances:
As not to see a woman in that terme,
Which I hope well is not enrolled there.
And one day in a weeke to touch no foode:
And but one meale on euery day beside:
The which I hope is not enrolled there.
And then to sleepe but three houres in the night,
And not be seene to winke of all the day.
When I was wont to thinke no harme all night,
And make a darke night too of halfe the day:
Which I hope well is not enrolled there.
O, these are barren taskes, too hard to keepe,
Not to see Ladies, study, fast, not sleepe
Ferd. Your oath is past, to passe away from these
Berow. Let me say no my Liedge, and if you please,
I onely swore to study with your grace,
And stay heere in your Court for three yeeres space
Longa. You swore to that Berowne, and to the rest
Berow. By yea and nay sir, than I swore in iest.
What is the end of study, let me know?
Fer. Why that to know which else wee should not
know
Ber. Things hid & bard (you meane) fro[m] co[m]mon sense
Ferd. I, that is studies god-like recompence
Bero. Come on then, I will sweare to studie so,
To know the thing I am forbid to know:
As thus, to study where I well may dine,
When I to fast expressely am forbid.
Or studie where to meete some Mistresse fine,
When Mistresses from common sense are hid.
Or hauing sworne too hard a keeping oath,
Studie to breake it, and not breake my troth.
If studies gaine be thus, and this be so,
Studie knowes that which yet it doth not know,
Sweare me to this, and I will nere say no
Ferd. These be the stops that hinder studie quite,
And traine our intellects to vaine delight
Ber. Why? all delights are vaine, and that most vaine
Which with paine purchas'd, doth inherit paine,
As painefully to poare vpon a Booke,
To seeke the light of truth, while truth the while
Doth falsely blinde the eye-sight of his looke:
Light seeking light, doth light of light beguile:
So ere you finde where light in darkenesse lies,
Your light growes darke by losing of your eyes.
Studie me how to please the eye indeede,
By fixing it vpon a fairer eye,
Who dazling so, that eye shall be his heed,
And giue him light that it was blinded by.
Studie is like the heauens glorious Sunne,
That will not be deepe search'd with sawcy lookes:
Small haue continuall plodders euer wonne,
Saue base authoritie from others Bookes.
These earthly Godfathers of heauens lights,
That giue a name to euery fixed Starre,
Haue no more profit of their shining nights,
Then those that walke and wot not what they are.
Too much to know, is to know nought but fame:
And euery Godfather can giue a name
Fer. How well hee's read, to reason against reading
Dum. Proceeded well, to stop all good proceeding
Lon. Hee weedes the corne, and still lets grow the
weeding
Ber. The Spring is neare when greene geesse are a
breeding
Dum. How followes that?
Ber. Fit in his place and time
Dum. In reason nothing
Ber. Something then in rime
Ferd. Berowne is like an enuious sneaping Frost,
That bites the first borne infants of the Spring
Ber. Wel, say I am, why should proud Summer boast,
Before the Birds haue any cause to sing?
Why should I ioy in any abortiue birth?
At Christmas I no more desire a Rose,
Then wish a Snow in Mayes new fangled showes:
But like of each thing that in season growes.
So you to studie now it is too late,
That were to clymbe ore the house to vnlocke the gate
Fer. Well, sit you out: go home Berowne: adue
Ber. No my good Lord, I haue sworn to stay with you.
And though I haue for barbarisme spoke more,
Then for that Angell knowledge you can say,
Yet confident Ile keepe what I haue sworne,
And bide the pennance of each three yeares day.
Giue me the paper, let me reade the same,
And to the strictest decrees Ile write my name
Fer. How well this yeelding rescues thee from shame
Ber. Item. That no woman shall come within a mile
of my Court.
Hath this bin proclaimed?
Lon. Foure dayes agoe
Ber. Let's see the penaltie.
On paine of loosing her tongue.
Who deuis'd this penaltie?
Lon. Marry that did I
Ber. Sweete Lord, and why? Lon. To fright them hence with that dread penaltie, A dangerous law against gentilitie. Item, If any man be seene to talke with a woman within the tearme of three yeares, hee shall indure such publique shame as the rest of the Court shall possibly deuise
Ber. This Article my Liedge your selfe must breake,
For well you know here comes in Embassie
The French Kings daughter, with your selfe to speake:
A Maide of grace and compleate maiestie,
About surrender vp of Aquitaine:
To her decrepit, sicke, and bed-rid Father.
Therefore this Article is made in vaine,
Or vainly comes th' admired Princesse hither
Fer. What say you Lords?
Why, this was quite forgot
Ber. So Studie euermore is ouershot,
While it doth study to haue what it would,
It doth forget to doe the thing it should:
And when it hath the thing it hunteth most,
'Tis won as townes with fire, so won, so lost
Fer. We must of force dispence with this Decree,
She must lye here on meere necessitie
Ber. Necessity will make vs all forsworne
Three thousand times within this three yeeres space:
For euery man with his affects is borne,
Not by might mastred, but by speciall grace.
If I breake faith, this word shall breake for me,
I am forsworne on meere necessitie.
So to the Lawes at large I write my name,
And he that breakes them in the least degree,
Stands in attainder of eternall shame.
Suggestions are to others as to me:
But I beleeue although I seeme so loth,
I am the last that will last keepe his oth.
But is there no quicke recreation granted?
Fer. I that there is, our Court you know is hanted
With a refined trauailer of Spaine,
A man in all the worlds new fashion planted,
That hath a mint of phrases in his braine:
One, who the musicke of his owne vaine tongue,
Doth rauish like inchanting harmonie:
A man of complements whom right and wrong
Haue chose as vmpire of their mutinie.
This childe of fancie that Armado hight,
For interim to our studies shall relate,
In high-borne words the worth of many a Knight:
From tawnie Spaine lost in the worlds debate.
How you delight my Lords, I know not I,
But I protest I loue to heare him lie,
And I will vse him for my Minstrelsie
Bero. Armado is a most illustrious wight,
A man of fire, new words, fashions owne Knight
Lon. Costard the swaine and he, shall be our sport,
And so to studie, three yeeres is but short.
Enter a Constable with Costard with a Letter.
Const. Which is the Dukes owne person
Ber. This fellow, What would'st?
Con. I my selfe reprehend his owne person, for I am
his graces Tharborough: But I would see his own person
in flesh and blood
Ber. This is he
Con. Signeor Arme, Arme commends you:
Ther's villanie abroad, this letter will tell you more
Clow. Sir the Contempts thereof are as touching
mee
Fer. A letter from the magnificent Armado
Ber. How low soeuer the matter, I hope in God for high words
Lon. A high hope for a low heauen, God grant vs patience
Ber. To heare, or forbeare hearing
Lon. To heare meekely sir, and to laugh moderately,
or to forbeare both
Ber. Well sir, be it as the stile shall giue vs cause to
clime in the merrinesse
Clo. The matter is to me sir, as concerning Iaquenetta.
The manner of it is, I was taken with the manner
Ber. In what manner? Clo. In manner and forme following sir all those three. I was seene with her in the Mannor house, sitting with her vpon the Forme, and taken following her into the Parke: which put to gether, is in manner and forme following. Now sir for the manner; It is the manner of a man to speake to a woman, for the forme in some forme
Ber. For the following sir
Clo. As it shall follow in my correction, and God defend
the right
Fer. Will you heare this Letter with attention?
Ber. As we would heare an Oracle
Clo. Such is the simplicitie of man to harken after the
flesh
Ferdinand. Great Deputie, the Welkins Vicegerent, and sole
dominator
of Nauar, my soules earths God, and bodies fostring
patrone:
Cost. Not a word of Costard yet
Ferd. So it is
Cost. It may be so: but if he say it is so, he is in telling
true: but so
Ferd. Peace,
Clow. Be to me, and euery man that dares not fight
Ferd. No words,
Clow. Of other mens secrets I beseech you
Ferd. So it is besieged with sable coloured melancholie, I did commend the blacke oppressing humour to the most wholesome Physicke of thy health-giuing ayre: And as I am a Gentleman, betooke my selfe to walke: the time When? about the sixt houre, When beasts most grase, birds best pecke, and men sit downe to that nourishment which is called supper: So much for the time When. Now for the ground Which? which I meane I walkt vpon, it is ycliped, Thy Parke. Then for the place Where? where I meane I did encounter that obscene and most preposterous euent that draweth from my snow-white pen the ebon coloured Inke, which heere thou viewest, beholdest: suruayest, or seest. But to the place Where? It standeth North North-east and by East from the West corner of thy curious knotted garden; There did I see that low spirited Swaine, that base Minow of thy myrth, Clown. Mee? Ferd. that vnletered small knowing soule, Clow Me? Ferd. that shallow vassall Clow. Still mee?) Ferd. which as I remember, hight Costard, Clow. O me) Ferd. sorted and consorted contrary to thy established proclaymed Edict and Continent, Cannon: Which with, o with, but with this I passion to say wherewith: Clo. With a Wench
Ferd. With a childe of our Grandmother Eue, a female; or for thy more sweet understanding a woman: him, I (as my euer esteemed dutie prickes me on) haue sent to thee, to receiue the meed of punishment by the sweet Graces Officer Anthony Dull, a man of good repute, carriage, bearing, & estimation
Anth. Me, an't shall please you? I am Anthony Dull
Ferd. For Iaquenetta (so is the weaker vessell called) which I apprehended with the aforesaid Swaine, I keepe her as a vessell of thy Lawes furie, and shall at the least of thy sweet notice, bring her to triall. Thine in all complements of deuoted and heart-burning heat of dutie. Don Adriana de Armado
Ber. This is not so well as I looked for, but the best
that euer I heard
Fer. I the best, for the worst. But sirra, What say you
to this?
Clo. Sir I confesse the Wench
Fer. Did you heare the Proclamation?
Clo. I doe confesse much of the hearing it, but little
of the marking of it
Fer. It was proclaimed a yeeres imprisonment to bee
taken with a Wench
Clow. I was taken with none sir, I was taken with a
Damosell
Fer. Well, it was proclaimed Damosell
Clo. This was no Damosell neyther sir, shee was a
Virgin
Fer. It is so varried to, for it was proclaimed Virgin
Clo. If it were, I denie her Virginitie: I was taken with a Maide
Fer. This Maid will not serue your turne sir
Clo. This Maide will serue my turne sir
Kin. Sir I will pronounce your sentence: You shall
fast a Weeke with Branne and water
Clo. I had rather pray a Moneth with Mutton and
Porridge
Kin. And Don Armado shall be your keeper.
My Lord Berowne, see him deliuer'd ore,
And goe we Lords to put in practice that,
Which each to other hath so strongly sworne
Bero. Ile lay my head to any good mans hat,
These oathes and lawes will proue an idle scorne.
Sirra, come on
Clo. I suffer for the truth sir: for true it is, I was taken with Iaquenetta, and Iaquenetta is a true girle, and therefore welcome the sowre cup of prosperitie, affliction may one day smile againe, and vntill then sit downe sorrow. Enter.
Enter Armado and Moth his Page.
Arma. Boy, What signe is it when a man of great
spirit growes melancholy?
Boy. A great signe sir, that he will looke sad
Brag. Why? sadnesse is one and the selfe-same thing
deare impe
Boy. No no, O Lord sir no
Brag. How canst thou part sadnesse and melancholy
my tender Iuuenall?
Boy. By a familiar demonstration of the working, my
tough signeur
Brag. Why tough signeur? Why tough signeur?
Boy. Why tender Iuuenall? Why tender Iuuenall?
Brag. I spoke it tender Iuuenall, as a congruent apathaton,
appertaining to thy young daies, which we may
nominate tender
Boy. And I tough signeur, as an appertinent title to
your olde time, which we may name tough
Brag. Pretty and apt
Boy. How meane you sir, I pretty, and my saying apt?
or I apt, and my saying prettie?
Brag. Thou pretty because little
Boy. Little pretty, because little: wherefore apt?
Brag. And therefore apt, because quicke
Boy. Speake you this in my praise Master?
Brag. In thy condigne praise
Boy. I will praise an Eele with the same praise
Brag. What? that an Eele is ingenuous
Boy. That an Eele is quicke
Brag. I doe say thou art quicke in answeres. Thou heat'st my bloud
Boy. I am answer'd sir
Brag. I loue not to be crost
Boy. He speakes the meere contrary, crosses loue not him
Br. I haue promis'd to study iij. yeres with the Duke
Boy. You may doe it in an houre sir
Brag. Impossible
Boy. How many is one thrice told?
Bra. I am ill at reckning, it fits the spirit of a Tapster
Boy. You are a gentleman and a gamester sir
Brag. I confesse both, they are both the varnish of a
compleat man
Boy. Then I am sure you know how much the grosse
summe of deus-ace amounts to
Brag. It doth amount to one more then two
Boy. Which the base vulgar call three
Br. True
Boy. Why sir is this such a peece of study? Now here's three studied, ere you'll thrice wink, & how easie it is to put yeres to the word three, and study three yeeres in two words, the dancing horse will tell you
Brag. A most fine Figure
Boy. To proue you a Cypher
Brag. I will heereupon confesse I am in loue: and as it is base for a Souldier to loue; so am I in loue with a base wench. If drawing my sword against the humour of affection, would deliuer mee from the reprobate thought of it, I would take Desire prisoner, and ransome him to any French Courtier for a new deuis'd curtsie. I thinke scorne to sigh, me thinkes I should out-sweare Cupid. Comfort me Boy, What great men haue beene in loue? Boy. Hercules Master
Brag. Most sweete Hercules: more authority deare Boy, name more; and sweet my childe let them be men of good repute and carriage
Boy. Sampson Master, he was a man of good carriage, great carriage: for hee carried the Towne-gates on his backe like a Porter: and he was in loue
Brag. O well-knit Sampson, strong ioynted Sampson;
I doe excell thee in my rapier, as much as thou didst mee
in carrying gates. I am in loue too. Who was Sampsons
loue my deare Moth?
Boy. A Woman, Master
Brag. Of what complexion?
Boy. Of all the foure, or the three, or the two, or one
of the foure
Brag. Tell me precisely of what complexion?
Boy. Of the sea-water Greene sir
Brag. Is that one of the foure complexions?
Boy. As I haue read sir, and the best of them too
Brag. Greene indeed is the colour of Louers: but to haue a Loue of that colour, methinkes Sampson had small reason for it. He surely affected her for her wit
Boy. It was so sir, for she had a greene wit
Brag. My Loue is most immaculate white and red
Boy. Most immaculate thoughts Master, are mask'd vnder such colours
Brag. Define, define, well educated infant
Boy. My fathers witte, and my mothers tongue assist
mee
Brag. Sweet inuocation of a childe, most pretty and
patheticall
Boy. If shee be made of white and red,
Her faults will nere be knowne:
For blushin cheekes by faults are bred,
And feares by pale white showne:
Then if she feare, or be to blame,
By this you shall not know,
For still her cheekes possesse the same,
Which natiue she doth owe:
A dangerous rime master against the reason of white
and redde
Brag. Is there not a ballet Boy, of the King and the Begger? Boy. The world was very guilty of such a Ballet some three ages since, but I thinke now 'tis not to be found: or if it were, it would neither serue for the writing, nor the tune
Brag. I will haue that subiect newly writ ore, that I may example my digression by some mighty president. Boy, I doe loue that Countrey girle that I tooke in the Parke with the rationall hinde Costard: she deserues well
Boy. To bee whip'd: and yet a better loue then my
Master
Brag. Sing Boy, my spirit grows heauy in loue
Boy. And that's great maruell, louing a light wench
Brag. I say sing
Boy. Forbeare till this company be past.
Enter Clowne, Constable, and Wench.
Const. Sir, the Dukes pleasure, is that you keepe Costard safe, and you must let him take no delight, nor no penance, but hee must fast three daies a weeke: for this Damsell, I must keepe her at the Parke, shee is alowd for the Day-woman. Fare you well. Enter.
Brag. I do betray my selfe with blushing: Maide
Maid. Man
Brag. I wil visit thee at the Lodge
Maid. That's here by
Brag. I know where it is situate
Mai. Lord how wise you are!
Brag. I will tell thee wonders
Ma. With what face?
Brag. I loue thee
Mai. So I heard you say
Brag. And so farewell
Mai. Faire weather after you
Clo. Come Iaquenetta, away.
Exeunt.
Brag. Villaine, thou shalt fast for thy offences ere
thou be pardoned
Clo. Well sir, I hope when I doe it, I shall doe it on a
full stomacke
Brag. Thou shalt be heauily punished
Clo. I am more bound to you then your fellowes, for they are but lightly rewarded
Clo. Take away this villaine, shut him vp
Boy. Come you transgressing slaue, away
Clow. Let mee not bee pent vp sir, I will fast being
loose
Boy. No sir, that were fast and loose: thou shalt to
prison
Clow. Well, if euer I do see the merry dayes of desolation
that I haue seene, some shall see
Boy. What shall some see? Clow. Nay nothing, Master Moth, but what they looke vpon. It is not for prisoners to be silent in their words, and therefore I will say nothing: I thanke God, I haue as little patience as another man, and therefore I can be quiet. Enter.
Brag. I doe affect the very ground (which is base) where her shooe (which is baser) guided by her foote (which is basest) doth tread. I shall be forsworn (which is a great argument of falshood) if I loue. And how can that be true loue, which is falsly attempted? Loue is a familiar, Loue is a Diuell. There is no euill Angell but Loue, yet Sampson was so tempted, and he had an excellent strength: Yet was Salomon so seduced, and hee had a very good witte. Cupids Butshaft is too hard for Hercules Clubbe, and therefore too much ods for a Spaniards Rapier: The first and second cause will not serue my turne: the Passado hee respects not, the Duello he regards not; his disgrace is to be called Boy, but his glorie is to subdue men. Adue Valour, rust Rapier, bee still Drum, for your manager is in loue; yea hee loueth. Assist me some extemporall god of Rime, for I am sure I shall turne Sonnet. Deuise Wit, write Pen, for I am for whole volumes in folio.
Enter.
Finis Actus Primus.
Actus Secunda.
Enter the Princesse of France, with three attending Ladies, and
three
Lords
Boyet. Now Madam summon vp your dearest spirits,
Consider who the King your father sends:
To whom he sends, and what's his Embassie.
Your selfe, held precious in the worlds esteeme,
To parlee with the sole inheritour
Of all perfections that a man may owe,
Matchlesse Nauarre, the plea of no lesse weight
Then Aquitaine, a Dowrie for a Queene,
Be now as prodigall of all deare grace,
As Nature was in making Graces deare,
When she did starue the generall world beside,
And prodigally gaue them all to you
Queen. Good L[ord]. Boyet, my beauty though but mean,
Needs not the painted flourish of your praise:
Beauty is bought by iudgement of the eye,
Not vttred by base sale of chapmens tongues:
I am lesse proud to heare you tell my worth,
Then you much willing to be counted wise,
In spending your wit in the praise of mine.
But now to taske the tasker, good Boyet
Prin. You are not ignorant all-telling fame
Doth noyse abroad Nauar hath made a vow,
Till painefull studie shall out-weare three yeares,
No woman may approach his silent Court:
Therefore to's seemeth it a needfull course,
Before we enter his forbidden gates,
To know his pleasure, and in that behalfe
Bold of your worthinesse, we single you,
As our best mouing faire soliciter:
Tell him, the daughter of the King of France,
On serious businesse crauing quicke dispatch,
Importunes personall conference with his grace.
Haste, signifie so much while we attend,
Like humble visag'd suters his high will
Boy. Proud of imployment, willingly I goe.
Enter.
Prin. All pride is willing pride, and yours is so:
Who are the Votaries my Louing Lords, that are vow-fellowes
with this vertuous Duke?
Lor. Longauill is one
Princ. Know you the man?
1 Lady. I know him Madame at a marriage feast,
Betweene L[ord]. Perigort and the beautious heire
Of Iaques Fauconbridge solemnized.
In Normandie saw I this Longauill,
A man of soueraigne parts he is esteem'd:
Well fitted in Arts, glorious in Armes:
Nothing becomes him ill that he would well.
The onely soyle of his faire vertues glosse,
If vertues glosse will staine with any soile,
Is a sharp wit match'd with too blunt a Will:
Whose edge hath power to cut whose will still wills,
It should none spare that come within his power
Prin. Some merry mocking Lord belike, ist so?
Lad.1. They say so most, that most his humors know
Prin. such short liu'd wits do wither as they grow.
Who are the rest?
2.Lad. The yong Dumaine, a well accomplisht youth,
Of all that Vertue loue, for Vertue loued.
Most power to doe most harme, least knowing ill:
For he hath wit to make an ill shape good,
And shape to win grace though she had no wit.
I saw him at the Duke Alansoes once,
And much too little of that good I saw,
Is my report to his great worthinesse
Rossa. Another of these Students at that time,
Was there with him, as I haue heard a truth.
Berowne they call him, but a merrier man,
Within the limit of becomming mirth,
I neuer spent an houres talke withall.
His eye begets occasion for his wit,
For euery obiect that the one doth catch,
The other turnes to a mirth-mouing iest.
Which his faire tongue (conceits expositor)
Deliuers in such apt and gracious words,
That aged eares play treuant at his tales,
And yonger hearings are quite rauished.
So sweet and voluble is his discourse
Prin. God blesse my Ladies, are they all in loue?
That euery one her owne hath garnished,
With such bedecking ornaments of praise
Ma. Heere comes Boyet.
Enter Boyet.
Prin. Now, what admittance Lord?
Boyet. Nauar had notice of your faire approach;
And he and his competitors in oath,
Were all addrest to meete you gentle Lady
Before I came: Marrie thus much I haue learnt,
He rather meanes to lodge you in the field,
Like one that comes heere to besiege his Court,
Then seeke a dispensation for his oath:
To let you enter his vnpeopled house.
Enter Nauar, Longauill, Dumaine, and Berowne.
Heere comes Nauar
Nau. Faire Princesse, welcom to the Court of Nauar
Prin. Faire I giue you backe againe, and welcome I haue not yet: the roofe of this Court is too high to bee yours, and welcome to the wide fields, too base to be mine
Nau. You shall be welcome Madam to my Court
Prin. I wil be welcome then, Conduct me thither
Nau. Heare me deare Lady, I haue sworne an oath
Prin. Our Lady helpe my Lord, he'll be forsworne
Nau. Not for the world faire Madam, by my will
Prin. Why, will shall breake it will, and nothing els
Nau. Your Ladiship is ignorant what it is
Prin. Were my Lord so, his ignorance were wise,
Where now his knowledge must proue ignorance.
I heare your grace hath sworne out House-keeping:
'Tis deadly sinne to keepe that oath my Lord,
And sinne to breake it:
But pardon me, I am too sodaine bold,
To teach a Teacher ill beseemeth me.
Vouchsafe to read the purpose of my comming,
And sodainly resolue me in my suite
Nau. Madam, I will, if sodainly I may
Prin. You will the sooner that I were away,
For you'll proue periur'd if you make me stay
Berow. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?
Rosa. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?
Ber. I know you did
Rosa. How needlesse was it then to ask the question?
Ber. You must not be so quicke
Rosa. 'Tis long of you y spur me with such questions
Ber. Your wit's too hot, it speeds too fast, 'twill tire
Rosa. Not till it leaue the Rider in the mire
Ber. What time a day?
Rosa. The howre that fooles should aske
Ber. Now faire befall your maske
Rosa. Faire fall the face it couers
Ber. And send you many louers
Rosa. Amen, so you be none
Ber. Nay then will I be gone
Kin. Madame, your father heere doth intimate,
The paiment of a hundred thousand Crownes,
Being but th' one halfe, of an intire summe,
Disbursed by my father in his warres.
But say that he, or we, as neither haue
Receiu'd that summe; yet there remaines vnpaid
A hundred thousand more: in surety of the which,
One part of Aquitaine is bound to vs,
Although not valued to the moneys worth.
If then the King your father will restore
But that one halfe which is vnsatisfied,
We will giue vp our right in Aquitaine,
And hold faire friendship with his Maiestie:
But that it seemes he little purposeth,
For here he doth demand to haue repaie,
An hundred thousand Crownes, and not demands
One paiment of a hundred thousand Crownes,
To haue his title liue in Aquitaine.
Which we much rather had depart withall,
And haue the money by our father lent,
Then Aquitane, so guelded as it is.
Deare Princesse, were not his requests so farre
From reasons yeelding, your faire selfe should make
A yeelding 'gainst some reason in my brest,
And goe well satisfied to France againe
Prin. You doe the King my Father too much wrong,
And wrong the reputation of your name,
In so vnseeming to confesse receyt
Of that which hath so faithfully beene paid
Kin. I doe protest I neuer heard of it,
And if you proue it, Ile repay it backe,
Or yeeld vp Aquitaine
Prin. We arrest your word:
Boyet, you can produce acquittances
For such a summe, from speciall Officers,
Of Charles his Father
Kin. Satisfie me so
Boyet. So please your Grace, the packet is not come
Where that and other specialties are bound,
To morrow you shall haue a sight of them
Kin. It shall suffice me; at which enterview,
All liberall reason would I yeeld vnto:
Meane time, receiue such welcome at my hand,
As honour, without breach of Honour may
Make tender of, to thy true worthinesse.
You may not come faire Princesse in my gates,
But heere without you shall be so receiu'd,
As you shall deeme your selfe lodg'd in my heart,
Though so deni'd farther harbour in my house:
Your owne good thoughts excuse me, and farewell,
To morrow we shall visit you againe
Prin. Sweet health & faire desires consort your grace
Kin. Thy own wish wish I thee, in euery place.
Enter.
Boy. Lady, I will commend you to my owne heart
La.Ro. Pray you doe my commendations,
I would be glad to see it
Boy. I would you heard it grone
La.Ro. Is the soule sicke?
Boy. Sicke at the heart
La.Ro. Alacke, let it bloud
Boy. Would that doe it good?
La.Ro. My Phisicke saies I
Boy. Will you prick't with your eye
La.Ro. No poynt, with my knife
Boy. Now God saue thy life
La.Ro. And yours from long liuing
Ber. I cannot stay thanks-giuing.
Enter.
Enter Dumane.
Dum. Sir, I pray you a word: What Lady is that same?
Boy. The heire of Alanson, Rosalin her name
Dum. A gallant Lady, Mounsier fare you well
Long. I beseech you a word: what is she in the white?
Boy. A woman somtimes, if you saw her in the light
Long. Perchance light in the light: I desire her name
Boy. Shee hath but one for her selfe,
To desire that were a shame
Long. Pray you sir, whose daughter?
Boy. Her Mothers, I haue heard
Long. Gods blessing a your beard
Boy. Good sir be not offended,
Shee is an heyre of Faulconbridge
Long. Nay, my choller is ended:
Shee is a most sweet Lady.
Exit. Long.
Boy. Not vnlike sir, that may be.
Enter Beroune.
Ber. What's her name in the cap
Boy. Katherine by good hap
Ber. Is she wedded, or no
Boy. To her will sir, or so,
Ber. You are welcome sir, adiew
Boy. Fare well to me sir, and welcome to you.
Enter.
La.Ma. That last is Beroune, the mery mad-cap Lord.
Not a word with him, but a iest
Boy. And euery iest but a word
Pri. It was well done of you to take him at his word
Boy. I was as willing to grapple, as he was to boord
La.Ma. Two hot Sheepes marie:
And wherefore not Ships?
Boy. No Sheepe (sweet Lamb) vnlesse we feed on your lips
La. You Sheepe & I pasture: shall that finish the iest?
Boy. So you grant pasture for me
La. Not so gentle beast.
My lips are no Common, though seuerall they be
Bo. Belonging to whom?
La. To my fortunes and me
Prin. Good wits wil be iangling, but gentles agree.
This ciuill warre of wits were much better vsed
On Nauar and his bookemen, for heere 'tis abus'd
Bo. If my obseruation (which very seldome lies
By the hearts still rhetoricke, disclosed with eyes)
Deceiue me not now, Nauar is infected
Prin. With what?
Bo. With that which we Louers intitle affected
Prin. Your reason
Bo. Why all his behauiours doe make their retire,
To the court of his eye, peeping thorough desire.
His hart like an Agot with your print impressed,
Proud with his forme, in his eie pride expressed.
His tongue all impatient to speake and not see,
Did stumble with haste in his eie-sight to be,
All sences to that sence did make their repaire,
To feele onely looking on fairest of faire:
Me thought all his sences were lockt in his eye,
As Iewels in Christall for some Prince to Buy.
Who tendring their own worth from whence they were glast,
Did point out to buy them along as you past.
His faces owne margent did coate such amazes,
That all eyes saw his eies inchanted with gazes.
Ile giue you Aquitaine, and all that is his,
And you giue him for my sake, but one louing Kisse
Prin. Come to our Pauillion, Boyet is disposde
Bro. But to speak that in words, which his eie hath disclos'd.
I onelie haue made a mouth of his eie,
By adding a tongue, which I know will not lie
Lad.Ro. Thou art an old Loue-monger, and speakest
skilfully
Lad.Ma. He is Cupids Grandfather, and learnes news
of him
Lad.2. Then was Venus like her mother, for her father
is but grim
Boy. Do you heare my mad wenches?
La.1. No
Boy. What then, do you see?
Lad.2. I, our way to be gone
Boy. You are too hard for me.
Exeunt. omnes.
Actus Tertius.
Enter Braggart and Boy.
Song.
Bra. Warble childe, make passionate my sense of hearing
Boy. Concolinel
Brag. Sweete Ayer, go tendernesse of yeares: take this Key, giue enlargement to the swaine, bring him festinatly hither: I must imploy him in a letter to my Loue
Boy. Will you win your loue with a French braule? Bra. How meanest thou, brauling in French? Boy. No my compleat master, but to Iigge off a tune at the tongues end, canarie to it with the feete, humour it with turning vp your eie: sigh a note and sing a note, sometime through the throate: if you swallowed loue with singing, loue sometime through: nose as if you snuft vp loue by smelling loue with your hat penthouselike ore the shop of your eies, with your armes crost on your thinbellie doublet, like a Rabbet on a spit, or your hands in your pocket, like a man after the old painting, and keepe not too long in one tune, but a snip and away: these are complements, these are humours, these betraie nice wenches that would be betraied without these, and make them men of note: do you note men that most are affected to these? Brag. How hast thou purchased this experience? Boy. By my penne of obseruation
Brag. But O, but O
Boy. The Hobbie-horse is forgot
Bra. Cal'st thou my loue Hobbi-horse
Boy. No Master, the Hobbie-horse is but a Colt, and
and your Loue perhaps, a Hacknie:
but haue you forgot your Loue?
Brag. Almost I had
Boy. Negligent student, learne her by heart
Brag. By heart, and in heart Boy
Boy. And out of heart Master: all those three I will proue
Brag. What wilt thou proue? Boy. A man, if I liue (and this) by, in, and without, vpon the instant: by heart you loue her, because your heart cannot come by her: in heart you loue her, because your heart is in loue with her: and out of heart you loue her, being out of heart that you cannot enioy her
Brag. I am all these three
Boy. And three times as much more, and yet nothing
at all
Brag. Fetch hither the Swaine, he must carrie mee a
letter
Boy. A message well simpathis'd, a Horse to be embassadour
for an Asse
Brag. Ha, ha, What saiest thou?
Boy. Marrie sir, you must send the Asse vpon the Horse
for he is verie slow gated: but I goe
Brag. The way is but short, away
Boy. As swift as Lead sir
Brag. Thy meaning prettie ingenious, is not Lead a
mettall heauie, dull, and slow?
Boy. Minnime honest Master, or rather Master no
Brag. I say Lead is slow
Boy. You are too swift sir to say so.
Is that Lead slow which is fir'd from a Gunne?
Brag. Sweete smoke of Rhetorike,
He reputes me a Cannon, and the Bullet that's he:
I shoote thee at the Swaine
Boy. Thump then, and I flee
Bra. A most acute Iuuenall, voluble and free of grace,
By thy fauour sweet Welkin, I must sigh in thy face.
Most rude melancholie, Valour giues thee place.
My Herald is return'd.
Enter Page and Clowne.
Pag. A wonder Master, here's a Costard broken in a
shin
Ar. Some enigma, some riddle, come, thy Lenuoy
begin
Clo. No egma, no riddle, no lenuoy, no salue, in thee male sir. Or sir, Plantan, a plaine Plantan: no lenuoy, no lenuoy, no Salue sir, but a Plantan
Ar. By vertue, thou inforcest laughter, thy sillie
thought, my spleene, the heauing of my lunges prouokes
me to rediculous smyling: O pardon me my stars, doth
the inconsiderate take salue for lenuoy, and the word lenuoy
for a salue?
Pag. Doe the wise thinke them other, is not lenuoy a
salue?
Ar. No Page, it is an epilogue or discourse to make plaine,
Some obscure precedence that hath tofore bin faine.
Now will I begin your morrall, and do you follow with
my lenuoy.
The Foxe, the Ape, and the Humble-Bee,
Were still at oddes, being but three
Arm. Vntill the Goose came out of doore,
Staying the oddes by adding foure
Pag. A good Lenuoy, ending in the Goose: would you
desire more?
Clo. The Boy hath sold him a bargaine, a Goose, that's flat.
Sir, your penny-worth is good, and your Goose be fat.
To sell a bargaine well is as cunning as fast and loose:
Let me see a fat Lenuoy, I that's a fat Goose
Ar. Come hither, come hither:
How did this argument begin?
Boy. By saying that a Costard was broken in a shin.
Then cal'd you for the Lenuoy
Clow. True, and I for a Plantan:
Thus came your argument in:
Then the Boyes fat Lenuoy, the Goose that you bought,
And he ended the market
Ar. But tell me: How was there a Costard broken in
a shin?
Pag. I will tell you sencibly
Clow. Thou hast no feeling of it Moth,
I will speake that Lenuoy.
I Costard running out, that was safely within,
Fell ouer the threshold, and broke my shin
Arm. We will talke no more of this matter
Clow. Till there be more matter in the shin
Arm. Sirra Costard, I will infranchise thee
Clow. O, marrie me to one Francis, I smell some Lenuoy, some Goose in this
Arm. By my sweete soule, I meane, setting thee at libertie. Enfreedoming thy person: thou wert emured, restrained, captiuated, bound
Clow. True, true, and now you will be my purgation, and let me loose
Arm. I giue thee thy libertie, set thee from durance, and in lieu thereof, impose on thee nothing but this: Beare this significant to the countrey Maide Iaquenetta: there is remuneration, for the best ward of mine honours is rewarding my dependants. Moth, follow
Pag. Like the sequell I.
Signeur Costard adew.
Enter.
Clow. My sweete ounce of mans flesh, my inconie
Iew: Now will I looke to his remuneration.
Remuneration, O, that's the Latine word for three-farthings:
Three-farthings remuneration, What's the price
of this yncle? i.d. no, Ile giue you a remuneration: Why?
It carries it remuneration: Why? It is a fairer name then
a French-Crowne. I will neuer buy and sell out of this
word.
Enter Berowne.
Ber. O my good knaue Costard, exceedingly well met
Clow. Pray you sir, How much Carnation Ribbon
may a man buy for a remuneration?
Ber. What is a remuneration?
Cost. Marrie sir, halfe pennie farthing
Ber. O, Why then threefarthings worth of Silke
Cost. I thanke your worship, God be wy you
Ber. O stay slaue, I must employ thee:
As thou wilt win my fauour, good my knaue,
Doe one thing for me that I shall intreate
Clow. When would you haue it done sir?
Ber. O this after-noone
Clo. Well, I will doe it sir: Fare you well
Ber. O thou knowest not what it is
Clo. I shall know sir, when I haue done it
Ber. Why villaine thou must know first
Clo. I wil come to your worship to morrow morning
Ber. It must be done this after-noone,
Harke slaue, it is but this:
The Princesse comes to hunt here in the Parke,
And in her traine there is a gentle Ladie:
When tongues speak sweetly, then they name her name,
And Rosaline they call her, aske for her:
And to her white hand see thou do commend
This seal'd-vp counsaile. Ther's thy guerdon: goe
Clo. Gardon, O sweete gardon, better then remuneration,
a leuenpence-farthing better: most sweete gardon.
I will doe it sir in print: gardon, remuneration.
Enter.
Ber. O, and I forsooth in loue,
I that haue beene loues whip?
A verie Beadle to a humerous sigh: A Criticke,
Nay, a night-watch Constable.
A domineering pedant ore the Boy,
Then whom no mortall so magnificent,
This wimpled, whyning, purblinde waiward Boy,
This signior Iunios gyant dwarfe, don Cupid,
Regent of Loue-rimes, Lord of folded armes,
Th' annointed soueraigne of sighes and groanes:
Liedge of all loyterers and malecontents:
Dread Prince of Placcats, King of Codpeeces.
Sole Emperator and great generall
Of trotting Parrators (O my little heart.)
And I to be a Corporall of his field,
And weare his colours like a Tumblers hoope.
What? I loue, I sue, I seeke a wife,
A woman that is like a Germane Cloake,
Still a repairing: euer out of frame,
And neuer going a right, being a Watch:
But being watcht, that it may still goe right.
Nay, to be periurde, which is worst of all:
And among three, to loue the worst of all,
A whitly wanton, with a veluet brow.
With two pitch bals stucke in her face for eyes.
I, and by heauen, one that will doe the deede,
Though Argus were her Eunuch and her garde.
And I to sigh for her, to watch for her,
To pray for her, go to: it is a plague
That Cupid will impose for my neglect,
Of his almighty dreadfull little might.
Well, I will loue, write, sigh, pray, shue, grone,
Some men must loue my Lady, and some Ione.
Actus Quartus.
Enter the Princesse, a Forrester, her Ladies, and her Lords.
Qu. Was that the King that spurd his horse so hard,
Against the steepe vprising of the hill?
Boy. I know not, but I thinke it was not he
Qu. Who ere a was, a shew'd a mounting minde:
Well Lords, to day we shall haue our dispatch,
On Saterday we will returne to France.
Then Forrester my friend, Where is the Bush
That we must stand and play the murtherer in?
For. Hereby vpon the edge of yonder Coppice,
A stand where you may make the fairest shoote
Qu. I thanke my beautie, I am faire that shoote,
And thereupon thou speak'st the fairest shoote
For. Pardon me Madam, for I meant not so
Qu. What, what? First praise me, & then again say no.
O short liu'd pride. Not faire? alacke for woe
For. Yes Madam faire
Qu. Nay, neuer paint me now,
Where faire is not, praise cannot mend the brow.
Here (good my glasse) take this for telling true:
Faire paiment for foule words, is more then due
For. Nothing but faire is that which you inherit
Qu. See, see, my beautie will be sau'd by merit.
O heresie in faire, fit for these dayes,
A giuing hand, though foule, shall haue faire praise.
But come, the Bow: Now Mercie goes to kill,
And shooting well, is then accounted ill:
Thus will I saue my credit in the shoote,
Not wounding, pittie would not let me do't:
If wounding, then it was to shew my skill,
That more for praise, then purpose meant to kill.
And out of question, so it is sometimes:
Glory growes guiltie of detested crimes,
When for Fames sake, for praise an outward part,
We bend to that, the working of the hart.
As I for praise alone now seeke to spill
The poore Deeres blood, that my heart meanes no ill
Boy. Do not curst wiues hold that selfe-soueraigntie
Onely for praise sake, when they striue to be
Lords ore their Lords?
Qu. Onely for praise, and praise we may afford,
To any Lady that subdewes a Lord.
Enter Clowne.
Boy. Here comes a member of the common-wealth
Clo. God dig-you-den all, pray you which is the head
Lady?
Qu. Thou shalt know her fellow, by the rest that haue
no heads
Clo. Which is the greatest Lady, the highest?
Qu. The thickest, and the tallest
Clo. The thickest, & the tallest: it is so, truth is truth.
And your waste Mistris, were as slender as my wit,
One a these Maides girdles for your waste should be fit.
Are not you the chiefe woma[n]? You are the thickest here?
Qu. What's your will sir? What's your will?
Clo. I haue a Letter from Monsier Berowne,
To one Lady Rosaline
Qu. O thy letter, thy letter: He's a good friend of mine.
Stand a side good bearer.
Boyet, you can carue,
Breake vp this Capon
Boyet. I am bound to serue.
This Letter is mistooke: it importeth none here:
It is writ to Iaquenetta
Qu. We will read it, I sweare.
Breake the necke of the Waxe, and euery one giue eare
Boyet reades. By heauen, that thou art faire, is most infallible: true that thou art beauteous, truth it selfe that thou art louely: more fairer then faire, beautifull then beautious, truer then truth it selfe: haue comiseration on thy heroicall Vassall. The magnanimous and most illustrate King Cophetua set eie vpon the pernicious and indubitate Begger Zenelophon: and he it was that might rightly say, Veni, vidi, vici: Which to annothanize in the vulgar, O base and obscure vulgar; videliset, He came, See, and ouercame: hee came one; see, two; ouercame three: Who came? the King. Why did he come? to see. Why did he see? to ouercome. To whom came he? to the Begger. What saw he? the Begger. Who ouercame he? the Begger. The conclusion is victorie: On whose side? the King: the captiue is inricht: On whose side? the Beggers. The catastrophe is a Nuptiall: on whose side? the Kings: no, on both in one, or one in both. I am the King (for so stands the comparison) thou the Begger, for so witnesseth thy lowlinesse. Shall I command thy loue? I may. Shall I enforce thy loue? I could. Shall I entreate thy loue? I will. What, shalt thou exchange for ragges, roabes: for tittles titles, for thy selfe mee. Thus expecting thy reply, I prophane my lips on thy foote, my eyes on thy picture, and my heart on thy euerie part. Thine in the dearest designe of industrie, Don Adriana de Armatho. Thus dost thou heare the Nemean Lion roare, Gainst thee thou Lambe, that standest as his pray: Submissiue fall his princely feete before, And he from forrage will incline to play. But if thou striue (poore soule) what art thou then? Foode for his rage, repasture for his den
Qu. What plume of feathers is hee that indited this
Letter? What veine? What Wethercocke? Did you
euer heare better?
Boy. I am much deceiued, but I remember the stile
Qu. Else your memorie is bad, going ore it erewhile
Boy. This Armado is a Spaniard that keeps here in court
A Phantasime, a Monarcho, and one that makes sport
To the Prince and his Booke-mates
Qu. Thou fellow, a word.
Who gaue thee this Letter?
Clow. I told you, my Lord
Qu. To whom should'st thou giue it?
Clo. From my Lord to my Lady
Qu. From which Lord, to which Lady?
Clo. From my Lord Berowne, a good master of mine,
To a Lady of France, that he call'd Rosaline
Qu. Thou hast mistaken his letter. Come Lords away.
Here sweete, put vp this, 'twill be thine another day.
Exeunt.
Boy. Who is the shooter? Who is the shooter?
Rosa. Shall I teach you to know
Boy. I my continent of beautie
Rosa. Why she that beares the Bow. Finely put off
Boy. My Lady goes to kill hornes, but if thou marrie,
Hang me by the necke, if hornes that yeare miscarrie.
Finely put on
Rosa. Well then, I am the shooter
Boy. And who is your Deare?
Rosa. If we choose by the hornes, your selfe come not
neare. Finely put on indeede
Maria. You still wrangle with her Boyet, and shee
strikes at the brow
Boyet. But she her selfe is hit lower:
Haue I hit her now
Rosa. Shall I come vpon thee with an old saying, that was a man when King Pippin of France was a little boy, as touching the hit it
Boyet. So I may answere thee with one as old that was a woman when Queene Guinouer of Brittaine was a little wench, as touching the hit it
Rosa. Thou canst not hit it, hit it, hit it,
Thou canst not hit it my good man
Boy. I cannot, cannot, cannot:
And I cannot, another can.
Enter.
Clo. By my troth most pleasant, how both did fit it
Mar. A marke marueilous well shot, for they both
did hit
Boy. A mark, O marke but that marke: a marke saies
my Lady.
Let the mark haue a pricke in't, to meat at, if it may be
Mar. Wide a'th bow hand, yfaith your hand is out
Clo. Indeede a' must shoote nearer, or heele ne're hit
the clout
Boy. And if my hand be out, then belike your hand
is in
Clo. Then will shee get the vpshoot by cleauing the
is in
Ma. Come, come, you talke greasely, your lips grow
foule
Clo. She's too hard for you at pricks, sir challenge her
to boule
Boy. I feare too much rubbing: good night my good
Oule
Clo. By my soule a Swaine, a most simple Clowne.
Lord, Lord, how the Ladies and I haue put him downe.
O my troth most sweete iests, most inconie vulgar wit,
When it comes so smoothly off, so obscenely, as it were,
so fit.
Armathor ath to the side, O a most dainty man.
To see him walke before a Lady, and to beare her Fan.
To see him kisse his hand, and how most sweetly a will
sweare:
And his Page atother side, that handfull of wit,
Ah heauens, it is most patheticall nit.
Sowla, sowla.
Exeunt. Shoote within.
Enter Dull, Holofernes, the Pedant and Nathaniel.
Nat. Very reuerent sport truely, and done in the testimony of a good conscience
Ped. The Deare was (as you know) sanguis in blood, ripe as a Pomwater who now hangeth like a Iewell in the eare of Celo the skie; the welken the heauen, and anon falleth like a Crab on the face of Terra, the soyle, the land, the earth
Curat.Nath. Truely M[aster]. Holofernes, the epythithes are sweetly varied like a scholler at the least: but sir I assure ye, it was a Bucke of the first head
Hol. Sir Nathaniel, haud credo
Dul. 'Twas not a haud credo, 'twas a Pricket
Hol. Most barbarous intimation: yet a kinde of insinuation, as it were in via, in way of explication facere: as it were replication, or rather ostentare, to show as it were his inclination after his vndressed, vnpolished, vneducated, vnpruned, vntrained, or rather vnlettered, or ratherest vnconfirmed fashion, to insert againe my haud credo for a Deare
Dul. I said the Deare was not a haud credo, 'twas a
Pricket
Hol. Twice sod simplicitie, bis coctus, O thou monster
Ignorance, how deformed doost thou looke
Nath. Sir hee hath neuer fed of the dainties that are
bred in a booke.
He hath not eate paper as it were:
He hath not drunke inke.
His intellect is not replenished, hee is onely an animall,
onely sensible in the duller parts: and such barren plants
are set before vs, that we thankfull should be: which we
taste and feeling, are for those parts that doe fructifie in
vs more then he.
For as it would ill become me to be vaine, indiscreet, or
a foole;
So were there a patch set on Learning, to see him in a
Schoole.
But omne bene say I, being of an old Fathers minde,
Many can brooke the weather, that loue not the winde
Dul. You two are book-men: Can you tell by your
wit, What was a month old at Cains birth, that's not fiue
weekes old as yet?
Hol. Dictisima goodman Dull, dictisima goodman
Dull
Dul. What is dictima?
Nath. A title to Phebe, to Luna, to the Moone
Hol. The Moone was a month old when Adam was
no more.
And wrought not to fiue-weekes when he came to fiuescore.
Th' allusion holds in the Exchange
Dul. 'Tis true indeede, the Collusion holds in the
Exchange
Hol. God comfort thy capacity, I say th' allusion holds
in the Exchange
Dul. And I say the polusion holds in the Exchange: for the Moone is neuer but a month old: and I say beside that, 'twas a Pricket that the Princesse kill'd
Hol. Sir Nathaniel, will you heare an extemporall
Epytaph on the death of the Deare, and to humour
the ignorant call'd the Deare, the Princesse kill'd a
Pricket
Nath. Perge, good M[aster]. Holofernes, perge, so it shall
please you to abrogate scurilitie
Hol. I will something affect a letter, for it argues facilitie. The prayfull Princesse pearst and prickt a prettie pleasing Pricket, Some say a Sore, but not a sore, till now made sore with shooting. The Dogges did yell, put ell to Sore, then Sorrell iumps from thicket: Or Pricket-sore, or else Sorell, the people fall a hooting. If Sore be sore, than ell to Sore, makes fiftie sores O sorell: Of one sore I an hundred make by adding but one more L
Nath. A rare talent
Dul. If a talent be a claw, looke how he clawes him with a talent
Nath. This is a gift that I haue simple: simple, a foolish extrauagant spirit, full of formes, figures, shapes, obiects, Ideas, apprehensions, motions, reuolutions. These are begot in the ventricle of memorie, nourisht in the wombe of primater, and deliuered vpon the mellowing of occasion: but the gift is good in those in whom it is acute, and I am thankfull for it
Hol. Sir, I praise the Lord for you, and so may my parishioners, for their Sonnes are well tutor'd by you, and their Daughters profit very greatly vnder you: you are a good member of the common-wealth
Nath. Me hercle, If their Sonnes be ingenuous, they shall want no instruction: If their Daughters be capable, I will put it to them. But Vir sapis qui pauca loquitur, a soule Feminine saluteth vs. Enter Iaquenetta and the Clowne.
Iaqu. God giue you good morrow M[aster]. Person
Nath. Master Person, quasi Person? And if one should
be perst, Which is the one?
Clo. Marry M[aster]. Schoolemaster, hee that is likest to a
hogshead
Nath. Of persing a Hogshead, a good luster of conceit in a turph of Earth, Fire enough for a Flint, Pearle enough for a Swine: 'tis prettie, it is well
Iaqu. Good Master Parson be so good as reade mee this Letter, it was giuen mee by Costard, and sent mee from Don Armatho: I beseech you read it
Nath. Facile precor gellida, quando pecas omnia sub vmbra ruminat, and so forth. Ah good old Mantuan, I may speake of thee as the traueiler doth of Venice, vemchie, vencha, que non te vnde, que non te perreche. Old Mantuan, old Mantuan. Who vnderstandeth thee not, vt re sol la mi fa: Vnder pardon sir, What are the contents? or rather as Horrace sayes in his, What my soule verses
Hol. I sir, and very learned
Nath. Let me heare a staffe, a stanze, a verse, Lege domine.
If Loue make me forsworne, how shall I sweare to loue?
Ah neuer faith could hold, if not to beautie vowed.
Though to my selfe forsworn, to thee Ile faithfull proue.
Those thoughts to mee were Okes, to thee like Osiers
bowed.
Studie his byas leaues, and makes his booke thine eyes.
Where all those pleasures liue, that Art would comprehend.
If knowledge be the marke, to know thee shall suffice.
Well learned is that tongue, that well can thee co[m]mend.
All ignorant that soule, that sees thee without wonder.
Which is to me some praise, that I thy parts admire;
Thy eye Ioues lightning beares, thy voyce his dreadfull
thunder.
Which not to anger bent, is musique, and sweete fire.
Celestiall as thou art, Oh pardon loue this wrong,
That sings heauens praise, with such an earthly tongue
Ped. You finde not the apostraphas, and so misse the
accent. Let me superuise the cangenet
Nath. Here are onely numbers ratified, but for the elegancy, facility, & golden cadence of poesie caret: Ouiddius Naso was the man. And why in deed Naso, but for smelling out the odoriferous flowers of fancy? the ierkes of inuention imitarie is nothing: So doth the Hound his master, the Ape his keeper, the tyred Horse his rider: But Damosella virgin, Was this directed to you? Iaq. I sir from one mounsier Berowne, one of the strange Queenes Lords
Nath. I will ouerglance the superscript.
To the snow-white hand of the most beautious Lady Rosaline.
I will looke againe on the intellect of the Letter, for
the nomination of the partie written to the person written
vnto.
Your Ladiships in all desired imployment, Berowne
Ped. Sir Holofernes, this Berowne is one of the Votaries with the King, and here he hath framed a Letter to a sequent of the stranger Queens: which accidentally, or by the way of progression, hath miscarried. Trip and goe my sweete, deliuer this Paper into the hand of the King, it may concerne much: stay not thy complement, I forgiue thy duetie, adue
Maid. Good Costard go with me:
Sir God saue your life
Cost. Haue with thee my girle.
Enter.
Hol. Sir you haue done this in the feare of God very
religiously: and as a certaine Father saith
Ped. Sir tell not me of the Father, I do feare colourable
colours. But to returne to the Verses, Did they please
you sir Nathaniel?
Nath. Marueilous well for the pen
Peda. I do dine to day at the fathers of a certaine Pupill of mine, where if (being repast) it shall please you to gratifie the table with a Grace, I will on my priuiledge I haue with the parents of the foresaid Childe or Pupill, vndertake your bien venuto, where I will proue those Verses to be very vnlearned, neither sauouring of Poetrie, Wit, nor Inuention. I beseech your Societie
Nat. And thanke you to: for societie (saith the text)
is the happinesse of life
Peda. And certes the text most infallibly concludes it.
Sir I do inuite you too, you shall not say me nay: pauca
verba.
Away, the gentles are at their game, and we will to our
recreation.
Exeunt.
Enter Berowne with a Paper in his hand, alone.
Bero. The King he is hunting the Deare, I am coursing my selfe. They haue pitcht a Toyle, I am toyling in a pytch, pitch that defiles; defile, a foule word: Well, set thee downe sorrow; for so they say the foole said, and so say I, and I the foole: Well proued wit. By the Lord this Loue is as mad as Aiax, it kils sheepe, it kils mee, I a sheepe: Well proued againe a my side. I will not loue; if I do hang me: yfaith I will not. O but her eye: by this light, but for her eye, I would not loue her; yes, for her two eyes. Well, I doe nothing in the world but lye, and lye in my throate. By heauen I doe loue, and it hath taught mee to Rime, and to be mallicholie: and here is part of my Rime, and heere my mallicholie. Well, she hath one a'my Sonnets already, the Clowne bore it, the Foole sent it, and the Lady hath it: sweet Clowne, sweeter Foole, sweetest Lady. By the world, I would not care a pin, if the other three were in. Here comes one with a paper, God giue him grace to grone.
He stands aside. The King entreth.
Kin. Ay mee!
Ber. Shot by heauen: proceede sweet Cupid, thou hast
thumpt him with thy Birdbolt vnder the left pap: in faith
secrets
King. So sweete a kisse the golden Sunne giues not,
To those fresh morning drops vpon the Rose,
As thy eye beames, when their fresh rayse haue smot.
The night of dew that on my cheekes downe flowes.
Nor shines the siluer Moone one halfe so bright,
Through the transparent bosome of the deepe,
As doth thy face through teares of mine giue light:
Thou shin'st in euery teare that I doe weepe,
No drop, but as a Coach doth carry thee:
So ridest thou triumphing in my woe.
Do but behold the teares that swell in me,
And they thy glory through my griefe will show:
But doe not loue thy selfe, then thou wilt keepe
My teares for glasses, and still make me weepe.
O Queene of Queenes, how farre dost thou excell,
No thought can thinke, nor tongue of mortall tell.
How shall she know my griefes? Ile drop the paper.
Sweete leaues shade folly. Who is he comes heere?
Enter Longauile. The King steps aside.
What Longauill, and reading: listen eare
Ber. Now in thy likenesse, one more foole appeare
Long. Ay me, I am forsworne
Ber. Why he comes in like a periure, wearing papers
Long. In loue I hope, sweet fellowship in shame
Ber. One drunkard loues another of the name
Lon. Am I the first y haue been periur'd so?
Ber. I could put thee in comfort, not by two that I know,
Thou makest the triumphery, the corner cap of societie,
The shape of Loues Tiburne, that hangs vp simplicitie
Lon. I feare these stubborn lines lack power to moue.
O sweet Maria, Empresse of my Loue,
These numbers will I teare, and write in prose
Ber. O Rimes are gards on wanton Cupids hose,
Disfigure not his Shop
Lon. This same shall goe.
He reades the Sonnet.
Did not the heauenly Rhetoricke of thine eye,
'Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument,
Perswade my heart to this false periurie?
Vowes for thee broke deserue not punishment.
A Woman I forswore, but I will proue,
Thou being a Goddesse, I forswore not thee.
My Vow was earthly, thou a heauenly Loue.
Thy grace being gain'd, cures all disgrace in me.
Vowes are but breath, and breath a vapour is.
Then thou faire Sun, which on my earth doest shine,
Exhalest this vapor-vow, in thee it is:
If broken then, it is no fault of mine:
If by me broke, What foole is not so wise,
To loose an oath, to win a Paradise?
Ber. This is the liuer veine, which makes flesh a deity.
A greene Goose, a Goddesse, pure pure Idolatry.
God amend vs, God amend, we are much out o'th' way.
Enter Dumaine.
Lon. By whom shall I send this (company?) Stay
Bero. All hid, all hid, an old infant play,
Like a demie God, here sit I in the skie,
And wretched fooles secrets heedfully ore-eye.
More Sacks to the myll. O heauens I haue my wish,
Dumaine transform'd, foure Woodcocks in a dish
Dum. O most diuine Kate
Bero. O most prophane coxcombe
Dum. By heauen the wonder of a mortall eye
Bero. By earth she is not, corporall, there you lye
Dum. Her Amber haires for foule hath amber coted
Ber. An Amber coloured Rauen was well noted
Dum. As vpright as the Cedar
Ber. Stoope I say, her shoulder is with-child
Dum. As faire as day
Ber. I as some daies, but then no sunne must shine
Dum. O that I had my wish?
Lon. And I had mine
Kin. And mine too good Lord
Ber. Amen, so I had mine: Is not that a good word?
Dum. I would forget her, but a Feuer she
Raignes in my bloud, and will remembred be
Ber. A Feuer in your bloud, why then incision
Would let her out in Sawcers, sweet misprision
Dum. Once more Ile read the Ode that I haue writ
Ber. Once more Ile marke how Loue can varry Wit.
Dumane reades his Sonnet.
On a day, alack the day:
Loue, whose Month is euery May,
Spied a blossome passing faire,
Playing in the wanton ayre:
Through the Veluet, leaues the winde,
All vnseene, can passage finde.
That the Louer sicke to death,
Wish himselfe the heauens breath.
Ayre (quoth he) thy cheekes may blowe,
Ayre, would I might triumph so.
But alacke my hand is sworne,
Nere to plucke thee from thy throne:
Vow alacke for youth vnmeete,
youth so apt to plucke a sweet.
Doe not call it sinne in me,
That I am forsworne for thee.
Thou for whom Ioue would sweare,
Iuno but an aethiop were,
And denie himselfe for Ioue.
Turning mortall for thy Loue.
This will I send, and something else more plaine.
That shall expresse my true-loues fasting paine.
O would the King, Berowne and Longauill,
Were Louers too, ill to example ill,
Would from my forehead wipe a periur'd note:
For none offend, where all alike doe dote
Lon. Dumaine, thy Loue is farre from charitie,
That in Loues griefe desir'st societie:
You may looke pale, but I should blush I know,
To be ore-heard, and taken napping so
Kin. Come sir, you blush: as his, your case is such,
You chide at him, offending twice as much.
You doe not loue Maria? Longauile,
Did neuer Sonnet for her sake compile;
Nor neuer lay his wreathed armes athwart
His louing bosome, to keepe downe his heart.
I haue beene closely shrowded in this bush,
And markt you both, and for you both did blush.
I heard your guilty Rimes, obseru'd your fashion:
Saw sighes reeke from you, noted well your passion.
Aye me, sayes one! O Ioue, the other cries!
On her haires were Gold, Christall the others eyes.
You would for Paradise breake Faith and troth,
And Ioue for your Loue would infringe an oath.
What will Berowne say when that he shall heare
Faith infringed, which such zeale did sweare.
How will he scorne? how will he spend his wit?
How will he triumph, leape, and laugh at it?
For all the wealth that euer I did see,
I would not haue him know so much by me
Bero. Now step I forth to whip hypocrisie.
Ah good my Liedge, I pray thee pardon me.
Good heart, What grace hast thou thus to reproue
These wormes for louing, that art most in loue?
Your eyes doe make no couches in your teares.
There is no certaine Princesse that appeares.
You'll not be periur'd, 'tis a hatefull thing:
Tush, none but Minstrels like of Sonnetting.
But are you not asham'd? nay, are you not
All three of you, to be thus much ore'shot?
You found his Moth, the King your Moth did see:
But I a Beame doe finde in each of three.
O what a Scene of fool'ry haue I seene.
Of sighes, of grones, of sorrow, and of teene:
O me, with what strict patience haue I sat,
To see a King transformed to a Gnat?
To see great Hercules whipping a Gigge,
And profound Salomon tuning a Iygge?
And Nestor play at push-pin with the boyes,
And Critticke Tymon laugh at idle toyes.
Where lies thy griefe? O tell me good Dumaine;
And gentle Longauill, where lies thy paine?
And where my Liedges? all about the brest:
A Candle hoa!
Kin. Too bitter is thy iest.
Are wee betrayed thus to thy ouer-view?
Ber. Not you by me, but I betrayed to you.
I that am honest, I that hold it sinne
To breake the vow I am ingaged in.
I am betrayed by keeping company
With men, like men of inconstancie.
When shall you see me write a thing in rime?
Or grone for Ioane? or spend a minutes time,
In pruning mee, when shall you heare that I will praise a
hand, a foot, a face, an eye: a gate, a state, a brow, a brest,
a waste, a legge, a limme
Kin. Soft, Whither away so fast?
A true man, or a theefe, that gallops so
Ber. I post from Loue, good Louer let me go.
Enter Iaquenetta and Clowne.
Iaqu. God blesse the King
Kin. What Present hast thou there?
Clo. Some certaine treason
Kin. What makes treason heere?
Clo. Nay it makes nothing sir
Kin. If it marre nothing neither,
The treason and you goe in peace away together
Iaqu. I beseech your Grace let this Letter be read,
Our person mis-doubts it: it was treason he said
Kin. Berowne, read it ouer.
He reades the Letter.
Kin. Where hadst thou it?
Iaqu. Of Costard
King. Where hadst thou it?
Cost. Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio
Kin. How now, what is in you? why dost thou tear it?
Ber. A toy my Liedge, a toy: your grace needes not
feare it
Long. It did moue him to passion, and therefore let's
heare it
Dum. It is Berowns writing, and heere is his name
Ber. Ah you whoreson loggerhead, you were borne
to doe me shame.
Guilty my Lord, guilty: I confesse, I confesse
Kin. What?
Ber. That you three fooles, lackt mee foole, to make
vp the messe.
He, he, and you: and you my Liedge, and I,
Are picke-purses in Loue, and we deserue to die.
O dismisse this audience, and I shall tell you more
Dum. Now the number is euen
Berow. True true, we are fowre: will these Turtles
be gone?
Kin. Hence sirs, away
Clo. Walk aside the true folke, & let the traytors stay
Ber. Sweet Lords, sweet Louers, O let vs imbrace,
As true we are as flesh and bloud can be,
The Sea will ebbe and flow, heauen will shew his face:
Young bloud doth not obey an old decree.
We cannot crosse the cause why we are borne:
Therefore of all hands must we be forsworne
King. What, did these rent lines shew some loue of
thine?
Ber. Did they, quoth you? Who sees the heauenly Rosaline,
That (like a rude and sauage man of Inde.)
At the first opening of the gorgeous East,
Bowes not his vassall head, and strooken blinde,
Kisses the base ground with obedient breast?
What peremptory Eagle-sighted eye
Dares looke vpon the heauen of her brow,
That is not blinded by her maiestie?
Kin. What zeale, what furie, hath inspir'd thee now?
My Loue (her Mistres) is a gracious Moone,
Shee (an attending Starre) scarce seene a light
Ber. My eyes are then no eyes, nor I Berowne.
O, but for my Loue, day would turne to night,
Of all complexions the cul'd soueraignty,
Doe meet as at a faire in her faire cheeke,
Where seuerall Worthies make one dignity,
Where nothing wants, that want it selfe doth seeke.
Lend me the flourish of all gentle tongues,
Fie painted Rethoricke, O she needs it not,
To things of sale, a sellers praise belongs:
She passes prayse, then prayse too short doth blot.
A withered Hermite, fiuescore winters worne,
Might shake off fiftie, looking in her eye:
Beauty doth varnish Age, as if new borne,
And giues the Crutch the Cradles infancie.
O 'tis the Sunne that maketh all things shine
King. By heauen, thy Loue is blacke as Ebonie
Berow. Is Ebonie like her? O word diuine?
A wife of such wood were felicite.
O who can giue an oth? Where is a booke?
That I may sweare Beauty doth beauty lacke,
If that she learne not of her eye to looke:
No face is faire that is not full so blacke
Kin. O paradoxe, Blacke is the badge of hell,
The hue of dungeons, and the Schoole of night:
And beauties crest becomes the heauens well
Ber. Diuels soonest tempt resembling spirits of light.
O if in blacke my Ladies browes be deckt,
It mournes, that painting vsurping haire
Should rauish doters with a false aspect:
And therfore is she borne to make blacke, faire.
Her fauour turnes the fashion of the dayes,
For natiue bloud is counted painting now:
And therefore red that would auoyd dispraise,
Paints it selfe blacke, to imitate her brow
Dum. To look like her are Chimny-sweepers blacke
Lon. And since her time, are Colliers counted bright
King. And Aethiops of their sweet complexion crake
Dum. Dark needs no Candles now, for dark is light
Ber. Your mistresses dare neuer come in raine,
For feare their colours should be washt away
Kin. 'Twere good yours did: for sir to tell you plaine,
Ile finde a fairer face not washt to day
Ber. Ile proue her faire, or talke till dooms-day here
Kin. No Diuell will fright thee then so much as shee
Duma. I neuer knew man hold vile stuffe so deere
Lon. Looke, heer's thy loue, my foot and her face see
Ber. O if the streets were paued with thine eyes,
Her feet were much too dainty for such tread
Duma. O vile, then as she goes what vpward lyes?
The street should see as she walk'd ouer head
Kin. But what of this, are we not all in loue?
Ber. O nothing so sure, and thereby all forsworne
Kin. Then leaue this chat, & good Berown now proue
Our louing lawfull, and our fayth not torne
Dum. I marie there, some flattery for this euill
Long. O some authority how to proceed,
Some tricks, some quillets, how to cheat the diuell
Dum. Some salue for periurie,
Ber. O 'tis more then neede.
Haue at you then affections men at armes,
Consider what you first did sweare vnto:
To fast, to study, and to see no woman:
Flat treason against the Kingly state of youth.
Say, Can you fast? your stomacks are too young:
And abstinence ingenders maladies.
And where that you haue vow'd to studie (Lords)
In that each of you haue forsworne his Booke.
Can you still dreame and pore, and thereon looke.
For when would you my Lord, or you, or you,
Haue found the ground of studies excellence,
Without the beauty of a womans face;
From womens eyes this doctrine I deriue,
They are the Ground, the Bookes, the Achadems,
From whence doth spring the true Promethean fire.
Why, vniuersall plodding poysons vp
The nimble spirits in the arteries,
As motion and long during action tyres
The sinnowy vigour of the trauailer.
Now for not looking on a womans face,
You haue in that forsworne the vse of eyes:
And studie too, the causer of your vow.
For where is any Author in the world,
Teaches such beauty as a womans eye:
Learning is but an adiunct to our selfe,
And where we are, our Learning likewise is.
Then when our selues we see in Ladies eyes,
With our selues.
Doe we not likewise see our learning there?
O we haue made a Vow to studie, Lords,
And in that vow we haue forsworne our Bookes:
For when would you (my Leege) or you, or you?
In leaden contemplation haue found out
Such fiery Numbers as the prompting eyes,
Of beauties tutors haue inrich'd you with:
Other slow Arts intirely keepe the braine:
And therefore finding barraine practizers,
Scarce shew a haruest of their heauy toyle.
But Loue first learned in a Ladies eyes,
Liues not alone emured in the braine:
But with the motion of all elements,
Courses as swift as thought in euery power,
And giues to euery power a double power,
Aboue their functions and their offices.
It addes a precious seeing to the eye:
A Louers eyes will gaze an Eagle blinde.
A Louers eare will heare the lowest sound.
When the suspicious head of theft is stopt.
Loues feeling is more soft and sensible,
Then are the tender hornes of Cockle Snayles.
Loues tongue proues dainty, Bachus grosse in taste,
For Valour, is not Loue a Hercules?
Still climing trees in the Hesperides.
Subtill as Sphinx, as sweet and musicall,
As bright Apollo's Lute, strung with his haire.
And when Loue speakes, the voyce of all the Gods,
Make heauen drowsie with the harmonie.
Neuer durst Poet touch a pen to write,
Vntill his Inke were tempred with Loues sighes:
O then his lines would rauish sauage eares,
And plant in Tyrants milde humilitie.
From womens eyes this doctrine I deriue.
They sparcle still the right promethean fire,
They are the Bookes, the Arts, the Achademes,
That shew, containe, and nourish all the world.
Else none at all in ought proues excellent.
Then fooles you were these women to forsweare:
Or keeping what is sworne, you will proue fooles,
For Wisedomes sake, a word that all men loue:
Or for Loues sake, a word that loues all men.
Or for Mens sake, the author of these Women:
Or Womens sake, by whom we men are Men.
Let's once loose our oathes to finde our selues,
Or else we loose our selues, to keepe our oathes:
It is religion to be thus forsworne.
For Charity it selfe fulfills the Law:
And who can seuer loue from Charity
Kin. Saint Cupid then, and Souldiers to the field
Ber. Aduance your standards, & vpon them Lords,
Pell, mell, downe with them: but be first aduis'd,
In conflict that you get the Sunne of them
Long. Now to plaine dealing, Lay these glozes by,
Shall we resolue to woe these girles of France?
Kin. And winne them too, therefore let vs deuise,
Some entertainment for them in their Tents
Ber. First from the Park let vs conduct them thither,
Then homeward euery man attach the hand
Of his faire Mistresse, in the afternoone
We will with some strange pastime solace them:
Such as the shortnesse of the time can shape,
For Reuels, Dances, Maskes, and merry houres,
Fore-runne faire Loue, strewing her way with flowres
Kin. Away, away, no time shall be omitted,
That will be time, and may by vs be fitted
Ber. Alone, alone sowed Cockell, reap'd no Corne,
And Iustice alwaies whirles in equall measure:
Light Wenches may proue plagues to men forsworne,
If so, our Copper buyes no better treasure.
Exeunt.
Actus Quartus.
Enter the Pedant, Curate and Dull.
Pedant. Satis quid sufficit
Curat. I praise God for you sir, your reasons at dinner haue beene sharpe & sententious: pleasant without scurrillity, witty without affection, audacious without impudency, learned without opinion, and strange without heresie: I did conuerse this quondam day with a companion of the Kings, who is intituled, nominated, or called, Don Adriano de Armatho
Ped. Noui hominum tanquam te, His humour is lofty, his discourse peremptorie: his tongue filed, his eye ambitious, his gate maiesticall, and his generall behauiour vaine, ridiculous, and thrasonicall. He is too picked, too spruce, too affected, too odde, as it were, too peregrinat, as I may call it
Curat. A most singular and choise Epithat,
Draw out his Table-booke.
Peda. He draweth out the thred of his verbositie, finer then the staple of his argument. I abhor such phanaticall phantasims, such insociable and poynt deuise companions, such rackers of ortagriphie, as to speake dout fine, when he should say doubt; det, when he shold pronounce debt; debt, not det: he clepeth a Calf, Caufe: halfe, haufe: neighbour vocatur nebour; neigh abreuiated ne: this is abhominable, which he would call abhominable it insinuateth me of infamie: ne inteligis domine, to make franticke, lunaticke? Cura. Laus deo, bene intelligo
Peda. Bome boon for boon prescian, a little scratcht, 'twil
serue.
Enter Bragart, Boy.
Curat. Vides ne quis venit?
Peda. Video, & gaudio
Brag. Chirra
Peda. Quari Chirra, not Sirra?
Brag. Men of peace well incountred
Ped. Most millitarie sir salutation
Boy. They haue beene at a great feast of Languages, and stolne the scraps
Clow. O they haue liu'd long on the almes-basket of words. I maruell thy M[aster]. hath not eaten thee for a word, for thou art not so long by the head as honorificabilitu%dinitatibus: Thou art easier swallowed then a flapdragon
Page. Peace, the peale begins
Brag. Mounsier, are you not lettred?
Page. Yes, yes, he teaches boyes the Horne-booke:
What is Ab speld backward with the horn on his head?
Peda. Ba, puericia with a horne added
Pag. Ba most seely Sheepe, with a horne: you heare
his learning
Peda. Quis quis, thou Consonant?
Pag. The last of the fiue Vowels if You repeat them,
or the fift if I
Peda. I will repeat them: a e I
Pag. The Sheepe, the other two concludes it o u
Brag. Now by the salt waue of the mediteranium, a sweet tutch, a quicke venewe of wit, snip snap, quick & home, it reioyceth my intellect, true wit
Page. Offered by a childe to an olde man: which is
wit-old
Peda. What is the figure? What is the figure?
Page. Hornes
Peda. Thou disputes like an Infant: goe whip thy
Gigge
Pag. Lend me your Horne to make one, and I will whip about your Infamie vnum cita a gigge of a Cuckolds horne
Clow. And I had but one penny in the world, thou shouldst haue it to buy Ginger bread: Hold, there is the very Remuneration I had of thy Maister, thou halfpenny purse of wit, thou Pidgeon-egge of discretion. O & the heauens were so pleased, that thou wert but my Bastard; What a ioyfull father wouldst thou make mee? Goe to, thou hast it ad dungil, at the fingers ends, as they say
Peda. Oh I smell false Latine, dunghel for vnguem
Brag. Arts-man preambulat, we will bee singled from
the barbarous. Do you not educate youth at the Charghouse
on the top of the Mountaine?
Peda. Or Mons the hill
Brag. At your sweet pleasure, for the Mountaine
Peda. I doe sans question
Bra. Sir, it is the Kings most sweet pleasure and affection, to congratulate the Princesse at her Pauilion, in the posteriors of this day, which the rude multitude call the after-noone
Ped. The posterior of the day, most generous sir, is liable, congruent, and measurable for the after-noone: the word is well culd, chose, sweet, and apt I doe assure you sir, I doe assure
Brag. Sir, the King is a noble Gentleman, and my familiar, I doe assure ye very good friend: for what is inward betweene vs, let it passe. I doe beseech thee remember thy curtesie. I beseech thee apparell thy head: and among other importunate & most serious designes, and of great import indeed too: but let that passe, for I must tell thee it will please his Grace (by the world) sometime to leane vpon my poore shoulder, and with his royall finger thus dallie with my excrement, with my mustachio: but sweet heart let that passe. By the world I recount no fable, some certaine speciall honours it pleaseth his greatnesse to impart to Armado a Souldier, a man of trauell, that hath seene the world: but let that passe; the very all of all is: but sweet heart I do implore secrecie, that the King would haue mee present the Princesse (sweet chucke) with some delightfull ostentation, or show, or pageant, or anticke, or fire-worke: Now, vnderstanding that the Curate and your sweet self are good at such eruptions, and sodaine breaking out of myrth (as it were) I haue acquainted you withall, to the end to craue your assistance
Peda. Sir, you shall present before her the Nine Worthies. Sir Holofernes, as concerning some entertainment of time, some show in the posterior of this day, to bee rendred by our assistants the Kings command: and this most gallant, illustrate and learned Gentleman, before the Princesse: I say none so fit as to present the Nine Worthies
Curat. Where will you finde men worthy enough to
present them?
Peda. Iosua, your selfe: my selfe, and this gallant gentleman
Iudas Machabeus; this Swaine (because of his
great limme or ioynt) shall passe Pompey the great, the
Page Hercules
Brag. Pardon sir, error: He is not quantitie enough for that Worthies thumb, hee is not so big as the end of his Club
Peda. Shall I haue audience: he shall present Hercules in minoritie: his enter and exit shall bee strangling a Snake; and I will haue an Apologie for that purpose
Pag. An excellent deuice: so if any of the audience hisse, you may cry, Well done Hercules, now thou crushest the Snake; that is the way to make an offence gracious, though few haue the grace to doe it
Brag. For the rest of the Worthies?
Peda. I will play three my selfe
Pag. Thrice worthy Gentleman
Brag. Shall I tell you a thing?
Peda. We attend
Brag. We will haue, if this fadge not, an Antique. I
beseech you follow
Ped. Via good-man Dull, thou hast spoken no word
all this while
Dull. Nor vnderstood none neither sir
Ped. Alone, we will employ thee
Dull. Ile make one in a dance, or so: or I will play
on the taber to the Worthies, & let them dance the hey
Ped. Most Dull, honest Dull, to our sport away.
Enter.
Enter Ladies.
Qu. Sweet hearts we shall be rich ere we depart,
If fairings come thus plentifully in.
A Lady wal'd about with Diamonds: Look you, what I
haue from the louing King
Rosa. Madam, came nothing else along with that?
Qu. Nothing but this: yes as much loue in Rime,
As would be cram'd vp in a sheet of paper
Writ on both sides the leafe, margent and all,
That he was faine to seale on Cupids name
Rosa. That was the way to make his god-head wax:
For he hath beene fiue thousand yeeres a Boy
Kath. I, and a shrewd vnhappy gallowes too
Ros. You'll nere be friends with him, a kild your sister
Kath. He made her melancholy, sad, and heauy, and so she died: had she beene Light like you, of such a merrie nimble stirring spirit, she might a bin a Grandam ere she died. And so may you: For a light heart liues long
Ros. What's your darke meaning mouse, of this light
word?
Kat. A light condition in a beauty darke
Ros. We need more light to finde your meaning out
Kat. You'll marre the light by taking it in snuffe:
Therefore Ile darkely end the argument
Ros. Look what you doe, you doe it stil i'th darke
Kat. So do not you, for you are a light Wench
Ros. Indeed I waigh not you, and therefore light
Ka. You waigh me not, O that's you care not for me
Ros. Great reason: for past care, is still past cure
Qu. Well bandied both, a set of Wit well played.
But Rosaline, you haue a Fauour too?
Who sent it? and what is it?
Ros. I would you knew.
And if my face were but as faire as yours,
My Fauour were as great, be witnesse this.
Nay, I haue Verses too, I thanke Berowne,
The numbers true, and were the numbring too.
I were the fairest goddesse on the ground.
I am compar'd to twenty thousand fairs.
O he hath drawne my picture in his letter
Qu. Any thing like?
Ros. Much in the letters, nothing in the praise
Qu. Beauteous as Incke: a good conclusion
Kat. Faire as a text B. in a Coppie booke
Ros. Ware pensals. How? Let me not die your debtor,
My red Dominicall, my golden letter.
O that your face were full of Oes
Qu. A Pox of that iest, and I beshrew all Shrowes:
But Katherine, what was sent to you
From faire Dumaine?
Kat. Madame, this Gloue
Qu. Did he not send you twaine?
Kat. Yes Madame: and moreouer,
Some thousand Verses of a faithfull Louer.
A huge translation of hypocrisie,
Vildly compiled, profound simplicitie
Mar. This, and these Pearls, to me sent Longauile.
The Letter is too long by halfe a mile
Qu. I thinke no lesse: Dost thou wish in heart
The Chaine were longer, and the Letter short
Mar. I, or I would these hands might neuer part
Quee. We are wise girles to mocke our Louers so
Ros. They are worse fooles to purchase mocking so.
That same Berowne ile torture ere I goe.
O that I knew he were but in by th' weeke,
How I would make him fawne, and begge, and seeke,
And wait the season, and obserue the times,
And spend his prodigall wits in booteles rimes,
And shape his seruice wholly to my deuice,
And make him proud to make me proud that iests.
So pertaunt like would I o'resway his state,
That he shold be my foole, and I his fate
Qu. None are so surely caught, when they are catcht,
As Wit turn'd foole, follie in Wisedome hatch'd:
Hath wisedoms warrant, and the helpe of Schoole,
And Wits owne grace to grace a learned Foole?
Ros. The bloud of youth burns not with such excesse,
As grauities reuolt to wantons be
Mar. Follie in Fooles beares not so strong a note,
As fool'ry in the Wise, when Wit doth dote:
Since all the power thereof it doth apply,
To proue by Wit, worth in simplicitie.
Enter Boyet.
Qu. Heere comes Boyet, and mirth in his face
Boy. O I am stab'd with laughter, Wher's her Grace?
Qu. Thy newes Boyet?
Boy. Prepare Madame, prepare.
Arme Wenches arme, incounters mounted are,
Against your Peace, Loue doth approach, disguis'd:
Armed in arguments, you'll be surpriz'd.
Muster your Wits, stand in your owne defence,
Or hide your heads like Cowards, and flie hence
Qu. Saint Dennis to S[aint]. Cupid: What are they,
That charge their breath against vs? Say scout say
Boy. Vnder the coole shade of a Siccamore,
I thought to close mine eyes some halfe an houre:
When lo to interrupt my purpos'd rest,
Toward that shade I might behold addrest,
The King and his companions: warely
I stole into a neighbour thicket by,
And ouer-heard, what you shall ouer-heare:
That by and by disguis'd they will be heere.
Their Herald is a pretty knauish Page:
That well by heart hath con'd his embassage,
Action and accent did they teach him there.
Thus must thou speake, and thus thy body beare.
And euer and anon they made a doubt,
Presence maiesticall would put him out:
For quoth the King, an Angell shalt thou see:
Yet feare not thou, but speake audaciously.
The Boy reply'd, An Angell is not euill:
I should haue fear'd her, had she beene a deuill.
With that all laugh'd, and clap'd him on the shoulder,
Making the bold wagg by their praises bolder.
One rub'd his elboe thus, and fleer'd, and swore,
A better speech was neuer spoke before.
Another with his finger and his thumb,
Cry'd via, we will doo't, come what will come.
The third he caper'd and cried, All goes well.
The fourth turn'd on the toe, and downe he fell:
With that they all did tumble on the ground,
With such a zelous laughter so profound,
That in this spleene ridiculous appeares,
To checke their folly passions solemne teares
Que. But what, but what, come they to visit vs?
Boy. They do, they do; and are apparel'd thus,
Like Muscouites; or Russians, as I gesse.
Their purpose is to parlee, to court, and dance,
And euery one his Loue-feat will aduance,
Vnto his seuerall mistresse: which they'll know
By fauours seuerall, which they did bestow
Queen. And will they so? the Gallants shall be taskt:
For Ladies; we will euery one be maskt,
And not a man of them shall haue the grace
Despight of sute, to see a Ladies face.
Hold Rosaline, this Fauour thou shalt weare,
And then the King will court thee for his Deare:
Hold, take thou this my sweet, and giue me thine,
So shall Berowne take me for Rosaline.
And change your Fauours too, so shall your Loues
Woo contrary, deceiu'd by these remoues
Rosa. Come on then, weare the fauours most in sight
Kath. But in this changing, What is your intent?
Queen. The effect of my intent is to crosse theirs:
They doe it but in mocking merriment,
And mocke for mocke is onely my intent.
Their seuerall counsels they vnbosome shall,
To Loues mistooke, and so be mockt withall.
Vpon the next occasion that we meete,
With Visages displayd to talke and greete
Ros. But shall we dance, if they desire vs too't?
Quee. No, to the death we will not moue a foot,
Nor to their pen'd speech render we no grace:
But while 'tis spoke, each turne away his face
Boy. Why that contempt will kill the keepers heart,
And quite diuorce his memory from his part
Quee. Therefore I doe it, and I make no doubt,
The rest will ere come in, if he be out.
Theres no such sport, as sport by sport orethrowne:
To make theirs ours, and ours none but our owne.
So shall we stay mocking entended game,
And they well mockt, depart away with shame.
Sound.
Boy. The Trompet sounds, be maskt, the maskers
come.
Enter Black moores with musicke, the Boy with a speech, and the
rest of
the Lords disguised.
Page. All haile, the richest Beauties on the earth
Ber. Beauties no richer then rich Taffata
Pag. A holy parcell of the fairest dames that euer turn'd their backes to mortall viewes.
The Ladies turne their backes to him.
Ber. Their eyes villaine, their eyes
Pag. That euer turn'd their eyes to mortall viewes.
Out
Boy. True, out indeed
Pag. Out of your fauours heauenly spirits vouchsafe
Not to beholde
Ber. Once to behold, rogue
Pag. Once to behold with your Sunne beamed eyes,
With your Sunne beamed eyes
Boy. They will not answer to that Epythite,
you were best call it Daughter beamed eyes
Pag. They do not marke me, and that brings me out
Bero. Is this your perfectnesse? be gon you rogue
Rosa. What would these strangers?
Know their mindes Boyet.
If they doe speake our language, 'tis our will
That some plaine man recount their purposes.
Know what they would?
Boyet. What would you with the Princes?
Ber. Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation
Ros. What would they, say they?
Boy. Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation
Rosa. Why that they haue, and bid them so be gon
Boy. She saies you haue it, and you may be gon
Kin. Say to her we haue measur'd many miles,
To tread a Measure with you on the grasse
Boy. They say that they haue measur'd many a mile,
To tread a Measure with you on this grasse
Rosa. It is not so. Aske them how many inches
Is in one mile? If they haue measur'd manie,
The measure then of one is easlie told
Boy. If to come hither, you haue measur'd miles,
And many miles: the Princesse bids you tell,
How many inches doth fill vp one mile?
Ber. Tell her we measure them by weary steps
Boy. She heares her selfe
Rosa. How manie wearie steps,
Of many wearie miles you haue ore-gone,
Are numbred in the trauell of one mile?
Bero. We number nothing that we spend for you,
Our dutie is so rich, so infinite,
That we may doe it still without accompt.
Vouchsafe to shew the sunshine of your face,
That we (like sauages) may worship it
Rosa. My face is but a Moone and clouded too
Kin. Blessed are clouds, to doe as such clouds do.
Vouchsafe bright Moone, and these thy stars to shine,
(Those clouds remooued) vpon our waterie eyne
Rosa. O vaine peticioner, beg a greater matter,
Thou now requests but Mooneshine in the water
Kin. Then in our measure, vouchsafe but one change.
Thou bidst me begge, this begging is not strange
Rosa. Play musicke then: nay you must doe it soone.
Not yet no dance: thus change I like the Moone
Kin. Will you not dance? How come you thus estranged?
Rosa. You tooke the Moone at full, but now shee's
changed?
Kin. Yet still she is the Moone, and I the Man
Rosa. The musick playes, vouchsafe some motion to
it: Our eares vouchsafe it
Kin. But your legges should doe it
Ros. Since you are strangers, & come here by chance,
Wee'll not be nice, take hands, we will not dance
Kin. Why take you hands then?
Rosa. Onelie to part friends.
Curtsie sweet hearts, and so the Measure ends
Kin. More measure of this measure, be not nice
Rosa. We can afford no more at such a price
Kin. Prise your selues: What buyes your companie?
Rosa. Your absence onelie
Kin. That can neuer be
Rosa. Then cannot we be bought: and so adue,
Twice to your Visore, and halfe once to you
Kin. If you denie to dance, let's hold more chat
Ros. In priuate then
Kin. I am best pleas'd with that
Be. White handed Mistris, one sweet word with thee
Qu. Hony, and Milke, and Suger: there is three
Ber. Nay then two treyes, an if you grow so nice
Methegline, Wort, and Malmsey; well runne dice:
There's halfe a dozen sweets
Qu. Seuenth sweet adue, since you can cogg,
Ile play no more with you
Ber. One word in secret
Qu. Let it not be sweet
Ber. Thou greeu'st my gall
Qu. Gall, bitter
Ber. Therefore meete
Du. Will you vouchsafe with me to change a word?
Mar. Name it
Dum. Faire Ladie:
Mar. Say you so? Faire Lord:
Take you that for your faire Lady
Du. Please it you,
As much in priuate, and Ile bid adieu
Mar. What, was your vizard made without a tong?
Long. I know the reason Ladie why you aske
Mar. O for your reason, quickly sir, I long
Long. You haue a double tongue within your mask,
And would affoord my speechlesse vizard halfe
Mar. Veale quoth the Dutch-man: is not Veale a
Calfe?
Long. A Calfe faire Ladie?
Mar. No, a faire Lord Calfe
Long. Let's part the word
Mar. No, Ile not be your halfe:
Take all and weane it, it may proue an Oxe
Long. Looke how you but your selfe in these sharpe
mockes.
Will you giue hornes chast Ladie? Do not so
Mar. Then die a Calfe before your horns do grow
Lon. One word in priuate with you ere I die
Mar. Bleat softly then, the Butcher heares you cry
Boyet. The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen
As is the Razors edge, inuisible:
Cutting a smaller haire then may be seene,
Aboue the sense of sence so sensible:
Seemeth their conference, their conceits haue wings,
Fleeter then arrows, bullets wind, thoght, swifter things
Rosa. Not one word more my maides, breake off,
breake off
Ber. By heauen, all drie beaten with pure scoffe
King. Farewell madde Wenches, you haue simple wits.
Exeunt.
Qu. Twentie adieus my frozen Muscouits.
Are these the breed of wits so wondred at?
Boyet. Tapers they are, with your sweete breathes
puft out
Rosa. Wel-liking wits they haue, grosse, grosse, fat, fat
Qu. O pouertie in wit, Kingly poore flout.
Will they not (thinke you) hang themselues to night?
Or euer but in vizards shew their faces:
This pert Berowne was out of count'nance quite
Rosa. They were all in lamentable cases.
The King was weeping ripe for a good word
Qu. Berowne did sweare himselfe out of all suite
Mar. Dumaine was at my seruice, and his sword:
No point (quoth I:) my seruant straight was mute
Ka. Lord Longauill said I came ore his hart:
And trow you what he call'd me?
Qu. Qualme perhaps
Kat. Yes in good faith
Qu. Go sicknesse as thou art
Ros. Well, better wits haue worne plain statute caps,
But will you heare; the King is my loue sworne
Qu. And quicke Berowne hath plighted faith to me
Kat. And Longauill was for my seruice borne
Mar. Dumaine is mine as sure as barke on tree
Boyet. Madam, and prettie mistresses giue eare,
Immediately they will againe be heere
In their owne shapes: for it can neuer be,
They will digest this harsh indignitie
Qu. Will they returne?
Boy. They will they will, God knowes,
And leape for ioy, though they are lame with blowes:
Therefore change Fauours, and when they repaire,
Blow like sweet Roses, in this summer aire
Qu. How blow? how blow? Speake to bee vnderstood
Boy. Faire Ladies maskt, are Roses in their bud:
Dismaskt, their damaske sweet commixture showne,
Are Angels vailing clouds, or Roses blowne
Qu. Auant perplexitie: What shall we do,
If they returne in their owne shapes to wo?
Rosa. Good Madam, if by me you'l be aduis'd.
Let's mocke them still as well knowne as disguis'd:
Let vs complaine to them what fooles were heare,
Disguis'd like Muscouites in shapelesse geare:
And wonder what they were, and to what end
Their shallow showes, and Prologue vildely pen'd:
And their rough carriage so ridiculous,
Should be presented at our Tent to vs
Boyet. Ladies, withdraw: the gallants are at hand
Quee. Whip to our Tents, as Roes runnes ore Land.
Exeunt.
Enter the King and the rest.
King. Faire sir, God saue you. Wher's the Princesse?
Boy. Gone to her Tent.
Please it your Maiestie command me any seruice to her?
King. That she vouchsafe me audience for one word
Boy. I will, and so will she, I know my Lord.
Enter.
Ber. This fellow pickes vp wit as Pigeons pease,
And vtters it againe, when Ioue doth please.
He is Wits Pedler, and retailes his Wares,
At Wakes, and Wassels, Meetings, Markets, Faires.
And we that sell by grosse, the Lord doth know,
Haue not the grace to grace it with such show.
This Gallant pins the Wenches on his sleeue.
Had he bin Adam, he had tempted Eue.
He can carue too, and lispe: Why this is he,
That kist away his hand in courtesie.
This is the Ape of Forme, Monsieur the nice,
That when he plaies at Tables, chides the Dice
In honorable tearmes: Nay he can sing
A meane most meanly, and in Vshering
Mend him who can: the Ladies call him sweete.
The staires as he treads on them kisse his feete.
This is the flower that smiles on euerie one,
To shew his teeth as white as Whales bone.
And consciences that wil not die in debt,
Pay him the dutie of honie-tongued Boyet
King. A blister on his sweet tongue with my hart,
That put Armathoes Page out of his part.
Enter the Ladies.
Ber. See where it comes. Behauiour what wer't thou,
Till this madman shew'd thee? And what art thou now?
King. All haile sweet Madame, and faire time of day
Qu. Faire in all Haile is foule, as I conceiue
King. Construe my speeches better, if you may
Qu. Then wish me better, I wil giue you leaue
King. We came to visit you, and purpose now
To leade you to our Court, vouchsafe it then
Qu. This field shal hold me, and so hold your vow:
Nor God, nor I, delights in periur'd men
King. Rebuke me not for that which you prouoke:
The vertue of your eie must breake my oth
Q. You nickname vertue: vice you should haue spoke:
For vertues office neuer breakes men troth.
Now by my maiden honor, yet as pure
As the vnsallied Lilly, I protest,
A world of torments though I should endure,
I would not yeeld to be your houses guest:
So much I hate a breaking cause to be
Of heauenly oaths, vow'd with integritie
Kin. O you haue liu'd in desolation heere,
Vnseene, vnuisited, much to our shame
Qu. Not so my Lord, it is not so I sweare,
We haue had pastimes heere, and pleasant game,
A messe of Russians left vs but of late
Kin. How Madam? Russians?
Qu. I in truth, my Lord.
Trim gallants, full of Courtship and of state
Rosa. Madam speake true. It is not so my Lord:
My Ladie (to the manner of the daies)
In curtesie giues vndeseruing praise.
We foure indeed confronted were with foure
In Russia habit: Heere they stayed an houre,
And talk'd apace: and in that houre (my Lord)
They did not blesse vs with one happy word.
I dare not call them fooles; but this I thinke,
When they are thirstie, fooles would faine haue drinke
Ber. This iest is drie to me. Gentle sweete,
Your wits makes wise things foolish when we greete
With eies best seeing, heauens fierie eie:
By light we loose light; your capacitie
Is of that nature, that to your huge stoore,
Wise things seeme foolish, and rich things but poore
Ros. This proues you wise and rich: for in my eie
Ber. I am a foole, and full of pouertie
Ros. But that you take what doth to you belong,
It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue
Ber. O, I am yours, and all that I possesse
Ros. All the foole mine
Ber. I cannot giue you lesse
Ros. Which of the Vizards what it that you wore?
Ber. Where? when? What Vizard?
Why demand you this?
Ros. There, then, that vizard, that superfluous case,
That hid the worse, and shew'd the better face
Kin. We are discried,
They'l mocke vs now downeright
Du. Let vs confesse, and turne it to a iest
Que. Amaz'd my Lord? Why lookes your Highnes
sadde?
Rosa. Helpe hold his browes, hee'l sound: why looke
you pale?
Sea-sicke I thinke comming from Muscouie
Ber. Thus poure the stars down plagues for periury.
Can any face of brasse hold longer out?
Heere stand I, Ladie dart thy skill at me,
Bruise me with scorne, confound me with a flout.
Thrust thy sharpe wit quite through my ignorance.
Cut me to peeces with thy keene conceit:
And I will wish thee neuer more to dance,
Nor neuer more in Russian habit waite.
O! neuer will I trust to speeches pen'd,
Nor to the motion of a Schoole-boies tongue.
Nor neuer come in vizard to my friend,
Nor woo in rime like a blind-harpers songue,
Taffata phrases, silken tearmes precise,
Three-pil'd Hyperboles, spruce affection;
Figures pedanticall, these summer flies,
Haue blowne me full of maggot ostentation.
I do forsweare them, and I heere protest,
By this white Gloue (how white the hand God knows)
Henceforth my woing minde shall be exprest
In russet yeas, and honest kersie noes.
And to begin Wench, so God helpe me law,
My loue to thee is sound, sans cracke or flaw,
Rosa. Sans, sans, I pray you
Ber. Yet I haue a tricke
Of the old rage: beare with me, I am sicke.
Ile leaue it by degrees: soft, let vs see,
Write Lord haue mercie on vs, on those three,
They are infected, in their hearts it lies:
They haue the plague, and caught it of your eyes:
These Lords are visited, you are not free:
For the Lords tokens on you do I see
Qu. No, they are free that gaue these tokens to vs
Ber. Our states are forfeit, seeke not to vndo vs
Ros. It is not so; for how can this be true,
That you stand forfeit, being those that sue
Ber. Peace, for I will not haue to do with you
Ros. Nor shall not, if I do as I intend
Ber. Speake for your selues, my wit is at an end
King. Teach vs sweete Madame, for our rude transgression,
some faire excuse
Qu. The fairest is confession.
Were you not heere but euen now, disguis'd?
Kin. Madam, I was
Qu. And were you well aduis'd?
Kin. I was faire Madam
Qu. When you then were heere,
What did you whisper in your Ladies eare?
King. That more then all the world I did respect her
Qu. When shee shall challenge this, you will reiect
her
King. Vpon mine Honor no
Qu. Peace, peace, forbeare:
Your oath once broke, you force not to forsweare
King. Despise me when I breake this oath of mine
Qu. I will, and therefore keepe it. Rosaline,
What did the Russian whisper in your eare?
Ros. Madam, he swore that he did hold me deare
As precious eye-sight, and did value me
Aboue this World: adding thereto moreouer,
That he would Wed me, or else die my Louer
Qu. God giue thee ioy of him: the Noble Lord
Most honorably doth vphold his word
King. What meane you Madame?
By my life, my troth
I neuer swore this Ladie such an oth
Ros. By heauen you did; and to confirme it plaine,
You gaue me this: But take it sir againe
King. My faith and this, the Princesse I did giue,
I knew her by this Iewell on her sleeue
Qu. Pardon me sir, this Iewell did she weare.
And Lord Berowne (I thanke him) is my deare.
What? Will you haue me, or your Pearle againe?
Ber. Neither of either, I remit both twaine.
I see the tricke on't: Heere was a consent,
Knowing aforehand of our merriment,
To dash it like a Christmas Comedie.
Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight Zanie,
Some mumble-newes, some trencher-knight, som Dick
That smiles his cheeke in yeares, and knowes the trick
To make my Lady laugh, when she's dispos'd;
Told our intents before: which once disclos'd,
The Ladies did change Fauours; and then we
Following the signes, woo'd but the signe of she.
Now to our periurie, to adde more terror,
We are againe forsworne in will and error.
Much vpon this tis: and might not you
Forestall our sport, to make vs thus vntrue?
Do not you know my Ladies foot by'th squier?
And laugh vpon the apple of her eie?
And stand betweene her backe sir, and the fire,
Holding a trencher, iesting merrilie?
You put our Page out: go, you are alowd.
Die when you will, a smocke shall be your shrowd.
You leere vpon me, do you? There's an eie
Wounds like a Leaden sword
Boy. Full merrily hath this braue manager, this carreere
bene run
Ber. Loe, he is tilting straight. Peace, I haue don.
Enter Clowne.
Welcome pure wit, thou part'st a faire fray
Clo. O Lord sir, they would kno,
Whether the three worthies shall come in, or no
Ber. What, are there but three?
Clo. No sir, but it is vara fine,
For euerie one pursents three
Ber. And three times thrice is nine
Clo. Not so sir, vnder correction sir, I hope it is not so. You cannot beg vs sir, I can assure you sir, we know what we know: I hope sir three times thrice sir
Ber. Is not nine
Clo. Vnder correction sir, wee know where-vntill it doth amount
Ber. By Ioue, I alwaies tooke three threes for nine
Clow. O Lord sir, it were pittie you should get your liuing by reckning sir
Ber. How much is it? Clo. O Lord sir, the parties themselues, the actors sir will shew where-vntill it doth amount: for mine owne part, I am (as they say, but to perfect one man in one poore man) Pompion the great sir
Ber. Art thou one of the Worthies?
Clo. It pleased them to thinke me worthie of Pompey
the great: for mine owne part, I know not the degree of
the Worthie, but I am to stand for him
Ber. Go, bid them prepare.
Enter.
Clo. We will turne it finely off sir, we wil take some
care
King. Berowne, they will shame vs:
Let them not approach
Ber. We are shame-proofe my Lord: and 'tis some policie, to haue one shew worse then the Kings and his companie
Kin. I say they shall not come
Qu. Nay my good Lord, let me ore-rule you now;
That sport best pleases, that doth least know how.
Where Zeale striues to content, and the contents
Dies in the Zeale of that which it presents:
Their forme confounded, makes most forme in mirth,
When great things labouring perish in their birth
Ber. A right description of our sport my Lord.
Enter Braggart.
Brag. Annointed, I implore so much expence of thy
royall sweet breath, as will vtter a brace of words
Qu. Doth this man serue God?
Ber. Why aske you?
Qu. He speak's not like a man of God's making
Brag. That's all one my faire sweet honie Monarch: For I protest, the Schoolmaster is exceeding fantasticall: Too too vaine, too too vaine. But we wil put it (as they say) to Fortuna delaguar, I wish you the peace of minde most royall cupplement
King. Here is like to be a good presence of Worthies; He presents Hector of Troy, the Swaine Pompey y great, the Parish Curate Alexander, Armadoes Page Hercules, the Pedant Iudas Machabeus: and if these foure Worthies in their first shew thriue, these foure will change habites, and present the other fiue
Ber. There is fiue in the first shew
Kin. You are deceiued, tis not so
Ber. The Pedant, the Braggart, the Hedge-Priest, the
Foole, and the Boy,
Abate throw at Novum, and the whole world againe,
Cannot pricke out fiue such, take each one in's vaine
Kin. The ship is vnder saile, and here she coms amain.
Enter Pompey.
Clo. I Pompey am
Ber. You lie, you are not he
Clo. I Pompey am
Boy. With Libbards head on knee
Ber. Well said old mocker,
I must needs be friends with thee
Clo. I Pompey am, Pompey surnam'd the big
Du. The great
Clo. It is great sir: Pompey surnam'd the great:
That oft in field, with Targe and Shield,
did make my foe to sweat:
And trauailing along this coast, I heere am come by chance,
And lay my Armes before the legs of this sweet Lasse of
France.
If your Ladiship would say thankes Pompey, I had done
La. Great thankes great Pompey
Clo. Tis not so much worth: but I hope I was perfect.
I made a little fault in great
Ber. My hat to a halfe-penie, Pompey prooues the
best Worthie.
Enter Curate for Alexander.
Curat. When in the world I liu'd, I was the worldes Commander:
By East, West, North, & South, I spred my conquering might
My Scutcheon plaine declares that I am Alisander
Boiet. Your nose saies no, you are not:
For it stands too right
Ber. Your nose smells no, in this most tender smelling
Knight
Qu. The Conqueror is dismaid:
Proceede good Alexander
Cur. When in the world I liued, I was the worldes Commander
Boiet. Most true, 'tis right; you were so Alisander
Ber. Pompey the great
Clo. your seruant and Costard
Ber. Take away the Conqueror, take away Alisander Clo. O sir, you haue ouerthrowne Alisander the conqueror: you will be scrap'd out of the painted cloth for this: your Lion that holds his Pollax sitting on a close stoole, will be giuen to Aiax. He will be the ninth worthie. A Conqueror, and affraid to speake? Runne away for shame Alisander. There an't shall please you: a foolish milde man, an honest man, looke you, & soon dasht. He is a maruellous good neighbour insooth, and a verie good Bowler: but for Alisander, alas you see, how 'tis a little ore-parted. But there are Worthies a comming, will speake their minde in some other sort.
Exit Cu.
Qu. Stand aside good Pompey.
Enter Pedant for Iudas, and the Boy for Hercules.
Ped. Great Hercules is presented by this Impe,
Whose Club kil'd Cerberus that three-headed Canus,
And when he was a babe, a childe, a shrimpe,
Thus did he strangle Serpents in his Manus:
Quoniam, he seemeth in minoritie,
Ergo, I come with this Apologie.
Keepe some state in thy exit, and vanish.
Exit Boy
Ped. Iudas I am
Dum. A Iudas?
Ped. Not Iscariot sir.
Iudas I am, ycliped Machabeus
Dum. Iudas Machabeus clipt, is plaine Iudas
Ber. A kissing traitor. How art thou prou'd Iudas?
Ped. Iudas I am
Dum. The more shame for you Iudas
Ped. What meane you sir?
Boi. To make Iudas hang himselfe
Ped. Begin sir, you are my elder
Ber. Well follow'd, Iudas was hang'd on an Elder
Ped. I will not be put out of countenance
Ber. Because thou hast no face
Ped. What is this?
Boi. A Citterne head
Dum. The head of a bodkin
Ber. A deaths face in a ring
Lon. The face of an old Roman coine, scarce seene
Boi. The pummell of Cæsars Faulchion
Dum. The caru'd-bone face on a Flaske
Ber. S[aint]. Georges halfe cheeke in a brooch
Dum. I, and in a brooch of Lead
Ber. I, and worne in the cap of a Tooth-drawer.
And now forward, for we haue put thee in countenance
Ped. You haue put me out of countenance
Ber. False, we haue giuen thee faces
Ped. But you haue out-fac'd them all
Ber. And thou wer't a Lion, we would do so
Boy. Therefore as he is, an Asse, let him go:
And so adieu sweet Iude. Nay, why dost thou stay?
Dum. For the latter end of his name
Ber. For the Asse to the Iude: giue it him. Iudas away
Ped. This is not generous, not gentle, not humble
Boy. A light for monsieur Iudas, it growes darke, he
may stumble
Que. Alas poore Machabeus, how hath hee beene
baited.
Enter Braggart.
Ber. Hide thy head Achilles, heere comes Hector in
Armes
Dum. Though my mockes come home by me, I will
now be merrie
King. Hector was but a Troyan in respect of this
Boi. But is this Hector?
Kin. I thinke Hector was not so cleane timber'd
Lon. His legge is too big for Hector
Dum. More Calfe certaine
Boi. No, he is best indued in the small
Ber. This cannot be Hector
Dum. He's a God or a Painter, for he makes faces
Brag. The Armipotent Mars, of Launces the almighty, gaue Hector a gift
Dum. A gilt Nutmegge
Ber. A Lemmon
Lon. Stucke with Cloues
Dum. No clouen
Brag. The Armipotent Mars of Launces the almighty,
Gaue Hector a gift, the heire of Illion;
A man so breathed, that certaine he would fight: yea
From morne till night, out of his Pauillion.
I am that Flower
Dum. That Mint
Long. That Cullambine
Brag. Sweet Lord Longauill reine thy tongue
Lon. I must rather giue it the reine: for it runnes against
Hector
Dum. I, and Hector's a Grey-hound
Brag. The sweet War-man is dead and rotten,
Sweet chuckes, beat not the bones of the buried:
But I will forward with my deuice;
Sweete Royaltie bestow on me the sence of hearing.
Berowne steppes forth.
Qu. Speake braue Hector, we are much delighted
Brag. i do adore thy sweet Graces slipper
Boy. Loues her by the foot
Dum. He may not by the yard
Brag. This Hector farre surmounted Hanniball.
The partie is gone
Clo. Fellow Hector, she is gone; she is two moneths
on her way
Brag. What meanest thou?
Clo. Faith vnlesse you play the honest Troyan, the
poore Wench is cast away: she's quick, the child brags
in her belly alreadie: tis yours
Brag. Dost thou infamonize me among Potentates?
Thou shalt die
Clo. Then shall Hector be whipt for Iaquenetta that is quicke by him, and hang'd for Pompey, that is dead by him
Dum. Most rare Pompey
Boi. Renowned Pompey
Ber. Greater then great, great, great, great Pompey:
Pompey the huge
Dum. Hector trembles
Ber. Pompey is moued, more Atees more Atees stirre them, or stirre them on
Dum. Hector will challenge him
Ber. I, if a'haue no more mans blood in's belly, then will sup a Flea
Brag. By the North-pole I do challenge thee
Clo. I wil not fight with a pole like a Northern man; Ile slash, Ile do it by the sword: I pray you let mee borrow my Armes againe
Dum. Roome for the incensed Worthies
Clo. Ile do it in my shirt
Dum. Most resolute Pompey
Page. Master, let me take you a button hole lower: Do you not see Pompey is vncasing for the combat: what meane you? you will lose your reputation
Brag. Gentlemen and Souldiers pardon me, I will
not combat in my shirt
Du. You may not denie it, Pompey hath made the
challenge
Brag. Sweet bloods, I both may, and will
Ber. What reason haue you for't?
Brag. The naked truth of it is, I haue no shirt,
I go woolward for penance
Boy. True, and it was inioyned him in Rome for want of Linnen: since when, Ile be sworne he wore none, but a dishclout of Iaquenettas, and that hee weares next his heart for a fauour. Enter a Messenger, Monsieur Marcade.
Mar. God saue you Madame
Qu. Welcome Marcade, but that thou interruptest
our merriment
Marc. I am sorrie Madam, for the newes I bring is
heauie in my tongue. The King your father
Qu. Dead for my life
Mar. Euen so: My tale is told
Ber. Worthies away, the Scene begins to cloud
Brag. For mine owne part, I breath free breath: I haue seene the day of wrong, through the little hole of discretion, and I will right my selfe like a Souldier.
Exeunt. Worthies
Kin. How fare's your Maiestie?
Qu. Boyet prepare, I will away to night
Kin. Madame not so, I do beseech you stay
Qu. Prepare I say. I thanke you gracious Lords
For all your faire endeuours and entreats:
Out of a new sad-soule, that you vouchsafe,
In your rich wisedome to excuse, or hide,
The liberall opposition of our spirits,
If ouer-boldly we haue borne our selues,
In the conuerse of breath (your gentlenesse
Was guiltie of it.) Farewell worthie Lord:
A heauie heart beares not a humble tongue.
Excuse me so, comming so short of thankes,
For my great suite, so easily obtain'd
Kin. The extreme parts of time, extremelie formes
All causes to the purpose of his speed:
And often at his verie loose decides
That, which long processe could not arbitrate.
And though the mourning brow of progenie
Forbid the smiling curtesie of Loue:
The holy suite which faine it would conuince,
Yet since loues argument was first on foote,
Let not the cloud of sorrow iustle it
From what it purpos'd: since to waile friends lost,
Is not by much so wholsome profitable,
As to reioyce at friends but newly found
Qu. I vnderstand you not, my greefes are double
Ber. Honest plain words, best pierce the ears of griefe
And by these badges vnderstand the King,
For your faire sakes haue we neglected time,
Plaid foule play with our oaths: your beautie Ladies
Hath much deformed vs, fashioning our humors
Euen to the opposed end of our intents.
And what in vs hath seem'd ridiculous:
As Loue is full of vnbefitting straines,
All wanton as a childe, skipping and vaine.
Form'd by the eie, and therefore like the eie.
Full of straying shapes, of habits, and of formes
Varying in subiects as the eie doth roule,
To euerie varied obiect in his glance:
Which partie-coated presence of loose loue
Put on by vs, if in your heauenly eies,
Haue misbecom'd our oathes and grauities.
Those heauenlie eies that looke into these faults,
Suggested vs to make: therefore Ladies
Our loue being yours, the error that Loue makes
Is likewise yours. We to our selues proue false,
By being once false, for euer to be true
To those that make vs both, faire Ladies you.
And euen that falshood in it selfe a sinne,
Thus purifies it selfe, and turnes to grace
Qu. We haue receiu'd your Letters, full of Loue:
Your Fauours, the Ambassadors of Loue.
And in our maiden counsaile rated them,
At courtship, pleasant iest, and curtesie,
As bumbast and as lining to the time:
But more deuout then these are our respects
Haue we not bene, and therefore met your loues
In their owne fashion, like a merriment
Du. Our letters Madam, shew'd much more then iest
Lon. So did our lookes
Rosa. We did not coat them so
Kin. Now at the latest minute of the houre,
Grant vs your loues
Qu. A time me thinkes too short,
To make a world-without-end bargaine in:
No, no my Lord, your Grace is periur'd much,
Full of deare guiltinesse, and therefore this:
If for my Loue (as there is no such cause)
You will do ought, this shall you do for me.
Your oth I will not trust: but go with speed
To some forlorne and naked Hermitage,
Remote from all the pleasures of the world:
There stay, vntill the twelue Celestiall Signes
Haue brought about their annuall reckoning.
If this austere insociable life,
Change not your offer made in heate of blood:
If frosts, and fasts, hard lodging, and thin weeds
Nip not the gaudie blossomes of your Loue,
But that it beare this triall, and last loue:
Then at the expiration of the yeare,
Come challenge me, challenge me by these deserts,
And by this Virgin palme, now kissing thine,
I will be thine: and till that instant shut
My wofull selfe vp in a mourning house,
Raining the teares of lamentation,
For the remembrance of my Fathers death.
If this thou do denie, let our hands part,
Neither intitled in the others hart
Kin. If this, or more then this, I would denie,
To flatter vp these powers of mine with rest,
The sodaine hand of death close vp mine eie.
Hence euer then, my heart is in thy brest
Ber. And what to me my Loue? and what to me?
Ros. You must be purged too, your sins are rack'd.
You are attaint with faults and periurie:
Therefore if you my fauor meane to get,
A tweluemonth shall you spend, and neuer rest,
But seeke the wearie beds of people sicke
Du. But what to me my loue? but what to me?
Kat. A wife? a beard, faire health, and honestie,
With three-fold loue, I wish you all these three
Du. O shall I say, I thanke you gentle wife?
Kat. Not so my Lord, a tweluemonth and a day,
Ile marke no words that smoothfac'd wooers say.
Come when the King doth to my Ladie come:
Then if I haue much loue, Ile giue you some
Dum. Ile serue thee true and faithfully till then
Kath. Yet sweare not, least ye be forsworne agen
Lon. What saies Maria?
Mari. At the tweluemonths end,
Ile change my blacke Gowne, for a faithfull friend
Lon. Ile stay with patience: but the time is long
Mari. The liker you, few taller are so yong
Ber. Studies my Ladie? Mistresse, looke on me,
Behold the window of my heart, mine eie:
What humble suite attends thy answer there,
Impose some seruice on me for my loue
Ros. Oft haue I heard of you my Lord Berowne,
Before I saw you: and the worlds large tongue
Proclaimes you for a man repleate with mockes,
Full of comparisons, and wounding floutes:
Which you on all estates will execute,
That lie within the mercie of your wit.
To weed this Wormewood from your fruitfull braine,
And therewithall to win me, if you please,
Without the which I am not to be won:
You shall this tweluemonth terme from day to day,
Visit the speechlesse sicke, and still conuerse
With groaning wretches: and your taske shall be,
With all the fierce endeuour of your wit,
To enforce the pained impotent to smile
Ber. To moue wilde laughter in the throate of death?
It cannot be, it is impossible.
Mirth cannot moue a soule in agonie
Ros. Why that's the way to choke a gibing spirit,
Whose influence is begot of that loose grace,
Which shallow laughing hearers giue to fooles:
A iests prosperitie, lies in the eare
Of him that heares it, neuer in the tongue
Of him that makes it: then, if sickly eares,
Deaft with the clamors of their owne deare grones,
Will heare your idle scornes; continue then,
And I will haue you, and that fault withall.
But if they will not, throw away that spirit,
And I shal finde you emptie of that fault,
Right ioyfull of your reformation
Ber. A tweluemonth? Well: befall what will befall,
Ile iest a tweluemonth in an Hospitall
Qu. I sweet my Lord, and so I take my leaue
King. No Madam, we will bring you on your way
Ber. Our woing doth not end like an old Play:
Iacke hath not Gill: these Ladies courtesie
Might wel haue made our sport a Comedie
Kin. Come sir, it wants a tweluemonth and a day,
And then 'twil end
Ber. That's too long for a play.
Enter Braggart.
Brag. Sweet Maiesty vouchsafe me
Qu. Was not that Hector?
Dum. The worthie Knight of Troy
Brag. I wil kisse thy royal finger, and take leaue. I am a Votarie, I haue vow'd to Iaquenetta to holde the Plough for her sweet loue three yeares. But most esteemed greatnesse, wil you heare the Dialogue that the two Learned men haue compiled, in praise of the Owle and the Cuckow? It should haue followed in the end of our shew
Kin. Call them forth quickely, we will do so
Brag. Holla, Approach.
Enter all.
This side is Hiems, Winter.
This Ver, the Spring: the one maintained by the Owle,
Th' other by the Cuckow.
Ver, begin.
The Song.
When Dasies pied, and Violets blew,
And Cuckow-buds of yellow hew:
And Ladie-smockes all siluer white,
Do paint the Medowes with delight.
The Cuckow then on euerie tree,
Mockes married men, for thus sings he,
Cuckow.
Cuckow, Cuckow: O word of feare,
Vnpleasing to a married eare.
When Shepheards pipe on Oaten strawes,
And merrie Larkes are Ploughmens clockes:
When Turtles tread, and Rookes and Dawes,
And Maidens bleach their summer smockes:
The Cuckow then on euerie tree
Mockes married men; for thus sings he,
Cuckow.
Cuckow, Cuckow: O word of feare,
Vnpleasing to a married eare
Winter. When Isicles hang by the wall,
And Dicke the Shepheard blowes his naile;
And Tom beares Logges into the hall,
And Milke comes frozen home in paile:
When blood is nipt, and waies be fowle,
Then nightly sings the staring Owle
Tuwhit towho.
A merrie note,
While greasie Ione doth keele the pot.
When all aloud the winde doth blow,
And coffing drownes the Parsons saw:
And birds sit brooding in the snow,
And Marrians nose lookes red and raw:
When roasted Crabs hisse in the bowle,
Then nightly sings the staring Owle,
Tuwhit towho:
A merrie note,
While greasie Ione doth keele the pot
Brag. The Words of Mercurie,
Are harsh after the songs of Apollo:
You that way; we this way.
Exeunt. omnes.
FINIS. Loues Labour's lost.
A Midsommer Nights Dreame
Actus primus.
Enter Theseus, Hippolita, with others.
Theseus. Now faire Hippolita, our nuptiall houre
Drawes on apace: foure happy daies bring in
Another Moon: but oh, me thinkes, how slow
This old Moon wanes; She lingers my desires
Like to a Step-dame, or a Dowager,
Long withering out a yong mans reuennew
Hip. Foure daies wil quickly steep the[m]selues in nights
Foure nights wil quickly dreame away the time:
And then the Moone, like to a siluer bow,
Now bent in heauen, shal behold the night
Of our solemnities
The. Go Philostrate,
Stirre vp the Athenian youth to merriments,
Awake the pert and nimble spirit of mirth,
Turne melancholy forth to Funerals:
The pale companion is not for our pompe,
Hippolita, I woo'd thee with my sword,
And wonne thy loue, doing thee iniuries:
But I will wed thee in another key,
With pompe, with triumph, and with reuelling.
Enter Egeus and his daughter Hermia, Lysander, and Demetrius.
Ege. Happy be Theseus, our renowned Duke
The. Thanks good Egeus: what's the news with thee?
Ege. Full of vexation, come I, with complaint
Against my childe, my daughter Hermia.
Stand forth Demetrius.
My Noble Lord,
This man hath my consent to marrie her.
Stand forth Lysander.
And my gracious Duke,
This man hath bewitch'd the bosome of my childe:
Thou, thou Lysander, thou hast giuen her rimes,
And interchang'd loue-tokens with my childe:
Thou hast by Moone-light at her window sung,
With faining voice, verses of faining loue,
And stolne the impression of her fantasie,
With bracelets of thy haire, rings, gawdes, conceits,
Knackes, trifles, Nose-gaies, sweet meats (messengers
Of strong preuailment in vnhardned youth)
With cunning hast thou filch'd my daughters heart,
Turn'd her obedience (which is due to me)
To stubborne harshnesse. And my gracious Duke,
Be it so she will not heere before your Grace,
Consent to marrie with Demetrius,
I beg the ancient priuiledge of Athens;
As she is mine, I may dispose of her;
Which shall be either to this Gentleman,
Or to her death, according to our Law,
Immediately prouided in that case
The. What say you Hermia? be aduis'd faire Maide,
To you your Father should be as a God;
One that compos'd your beauties; yea and one
To whom you are but as a forme in waxe
By him imprinted: and within his power,
To leaue the figure, or disfigure it:
Demetrius is a worthy Gentleman
Her. So is Lysander
The. In himselfe he is.
But in this kinde, wanting your fathers voyce,
The other must be held the worthier
Her. I would my father look'd but with my eyes
The. Rather your eies must with his iudgment looke
Her. I do entreat your Grace to pardon me.
I know not by what power I am made bold,
Nor how it may concerne my modestie
In such a presence heere to pleade my thoughts:
But I beseech your Grace, that I may know
The worst that may befall me in this case,
If I refuse to wed Demetrius
The. Either to dye the death, or to abiure
For euer the society of men.
Therefore faire Hermia question your desires,
Know of your youth, examine well your blood,
Whether (if you yeeld not to your fathers choice)
You can endure the liuerie of a Nunne,
For aye to be in shady Cloister mew'd,
To liue a barren sister all your life,
Chanting faint hymnes to the cold fruitlesse Moone,
Thrice blessed they that master so their blood,
To vndergo such maiden pilgrimage,
But earthlier happie is the Rose distil'd,
Then that which withering on the virgin thorne,
Growes, liues, and dies, in single blessednesse
Her. So will I grow, so liue, so die my Lord,
Ere I will yeeld my virgin Patent vp
Vnto his Lordship, whose vnwished yoake,
My soule consents not to giue soueraignty
The. Take time to pause, and by the next new Moon
The sealing day betwixt my loue and me,
For euerlasting bond of fellowship:
Vpon that day either prepare to dye,
For disobedience to your fathers will,
Or else to wed Demetrius as hee would,
Or on Dianaes Altar to protest
For aie, austerity, and single life
Dem. Relent sweet Hermia, and Lysander, yeelde
Thy crazed title to my certaine right
Lys. You haue her fathers loue, Demetrius:
Let me haue Hermiaes: do you marry him
Egeus. Scornfull Lysander, true, he hath my Loue;
And what is mine, my loue shall render him.
And she is mine, and all my right of her,
I do estate vnto Demetrius
Lys. I am my Lord, as well deriu'd as he,
As well possest: my loue is more then his:
My fortunes euery way as fairely ranck'd
(If not with vantage) as Demetrius:
And (which is more then all these boasts can be)
I am belou'd of beauteous Hermia.
Why should not I then prosecute my right?
Demetrius, Ile auouch it to his head,
Made loue to Nedars daughter, Helena,
And won her soule: and she (sweet Ladie) dotes,
Deuoutly dotes, dotes in Idolatry,
Vpon this spotted and inconstant man
The. I must confesse, that I haue heard so much,
And with Demetrius thought to haue spoke thereof:
But being ouer-full of selfe-affaires,
My minde did lose it. But Demetrius come,
And come Egeus, you shall go with me,
I haue some priuate schooling for you both.
For you faire Hermia, looke you arme your selfe,
To fit your fancies to your Fathers will;
Or else the Law of Athens yeelds you vp
(Which by no meanes we may extenuate)
To death, or to a vow of single life.
Come my Hippolita, what cheare my loue?
Demetrius and Egeus go along:
I must imploy you in some businesse
Against our nuptiall, and conferre with you
Of something, neerely that concernes your selues
Ege. With dutie and desire we follow you.
Exeunt.
Manet Lysander and Hermia.
Lys. How now my loue? Why is your cheek so pale?
How chance the Roses there do fade so fast?
Her. Belike for want of raine, which I could well
Beteeme them, from the tempest of mine eyes
Lys. For ought that euer I could reade,
Could euer heare by tale or historie,
The course of true loue neuer did run smooth,
But either it was different in blood
Her. O crosse! too high to be enthral'd to loue
Lys. Or else misgraffed, in respect of yeares
Her. O spight! too old to be ingag'd to yong
Lys. Or else it stood vpon the choise of merit
Her. O hell! to choose loue by anothers eie
Lys. Or if there were a simpathie in choise,
Warre, death, or sicknesse, did lay siege to it;
Making it momentarie, as a sound:
Swift as a shadow, short as any dreame,
Briefe as the lightning in the collied night,
That (in a spleene) vnfolds both heauen and earth;
And ere a man hath power to say, behold,
The iawes of darkness do deuoure it vp:
So quicke bright things come to confusion
Her. If then true Louers haue beene euer crost,
It stands as an edict in destinie:
Then let vs teach our triall patience,
Because it is a customarie crosse,
As due to loue, as thoughts, and dreames, and sighes,
Wishes and teares; poore Fancies followers
Lys. A good perswasion; therefore heare me Hermia,
I haue a Widdow Aunt, a dowager,
Of great reuennew, and she hath no childe,
From Athens is her house remou'd seuen leagues,
And she respects me, as her onely sonne:
There gentle Hermia, may I marrie thee,
And to that place, the sharpe Athenian Law
Cannot pursue vs. If thou lou'st me, then
Steale forth thy Fathers house to morrow night:
And in the wood, a league without the towne,
(Where I did meete thee once with Helena.
To do obseruance for a morne of May)
There will I stay for thee
Her. My good Lysander,
I sweare to thee, by Cupids strongest bow,
By his best arrow with the golden head,
By the simplicitie of Venus Doues,
By that which knitteth soules, and prospers loue,
And by that fire which burn'd the Carthage Queene,
When the false Troyan vnder saile was seene,
By all the vowes that euer men haue broke,
(In number more then euer women spoke)
In that same place thou hast appointed me,
To morrow truly will I meete with thee
Lys. Keepe promise loue: looke here comes Helena.
Enter Helena.
Her. God speede faire Helena, whither away?
Hel. Cal you me faire? that faire againe vnsay,
Demetrius loues you faire: O happie faire!
Your eyes are loadstarres, and your tongues sweete ayre
More tuneable then Larke to shepheards eare,
When wheate is greene, when hauthorne buds appeare,
Sicknesse is catching: O were fauor so,
Your words I catch, faire Hermia ere I go,
My eare should catch your voice, my eye, your eye,
My tongue should catch your tongues sweete melodie,
Were the world mine, Demetrius being bated,
The rest Ile giue to be to you translated.
O teach me how you looke, and with what art
You sway the motion of Demetrius hart
Her. I frowne vpon him, yet he loues me still
Hel. O that your frownes would teach my smiles such skil
Her. I giue him curses, yet he giues me loue
Hel. O that my prayers could such affection mooue
Her. The more I hate, the more he followes me
Hel. The more I loue, the more he hateth me
Her. His folly Helena is none of mine
Hel. None but your beauty, wold that fault wer mine
Her. Take comfort: he no more shall see my face,
Lysander and my selfe will flie this place.
Before the time I did Lysander see,
Seem'd Athens like a Paradise to mee.
O then, what graces in my Loue do dwell,
That he hath turn'd a heauen into hell
Lys. Helen, to you our mindes we will vnfold,
To morrow night, when Phoebe doth behold
Her siluer visage, in the watry glasse,
Decking with liquid pearle, the bladed grasse
(A time that Louers flights doth still conceale)
Through Athens gates, haue we deuis'd to steale
Her. And in the wood, where often you and I,
Vpon faint Primrose beds, were wont to lye,
Emptying our bosomes, of their counsell sweld:
There my Lysander, and my selfe shall meete,
And thence from Athens turne away our eyes
To seeke new friends and strange companions,
Farwell sweet play-fellow, pray thou for vs,
And good lucke grant thee thy Demetrius.
Keepe word Lysander we must starue our sight,
From louers foode, till morrow deepe midnight.
Exit Hermia.
Lys. I will my Hermia. Helena adieu,
As you on him, Demetrius dotes on you.
Exit Lysander.
Hele. How happy some, ore othersome can be?
Through Athens I am thought as faire as she.
But what of that? Demetrius thinkes not so:
He will not know, what all, but he doth know,
And as hee erres, doting on Hermias eyes;
So I, admiring of his qualities:
Things base and vilde, holding no quantity,
Loue can transpose to forme and dignity,
Loue lookes not with the eyes, but with the minde,
And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blinde.
Nor hath loues minde of any iudgement taste:
Wings and no eyes, figure, vnheedy haste.
And therefore is Loue said to be a childe,
Because in choise he is often beguil'd,
As waggish boyes in game themselues forsweare;
So the boy Loue is periur'd euery where.
For ere Demetrius lookt on Hermias eyne,
He hail'd downe oathes that he was onely mine.
And when this Haile some heat from Hermia felt,
So he dissolu'd, and showres of oathes did melt,
I will goe tell him of faire Hermias flight:
Then to the wood will he, to morrow night
Pursue her; and for his intelligence,
If I haue thankes, it is a deere expence:
But heerein meane I to enrich my paine,
To haue his sight thither, and backe againe.
Enter.
Enter Quince the Carpenter, Snug the Ioyner, Bottome the Weauer, Flute the bellowes-mender, Snout the Tinker, and Starueling the Taylor.
Quin. Is all our company heere?
Bot. You were best to call them generally, man by
man according to the scrip
Qui. Here is the scrowle of euery mans name, which is thought fit through all Athens, to play in our Enterlude before the Duke and the Dutches, on his wedding day at night
Bot. First, good Peter Quince, say what the play treats on: then read the names of the Actors: and so grow on to a point
Quin. Marry our play is the most lamentable comedy, and most cruell death of Pyramus and Thisbie
Bot. A very good peece of worke I assure you, and a merry. Now good Peter Quince, call forth your Actors by the scrowle. Masters spread your selues
Quince. Answere as I call you. Nick Bottome the
Weauer
Bottome. Ready; name what part I am for, and
proceed
Quince. You Nicke Bottome are set downe for Pyramus
Bot. What is Pyramus, a louer, or a tyrant?
Quin. A Louer that kills himselfe most gallantly for
loue
Bot. That will aske some teares in the true performing of it: if I do it, let the audience looke to their eies: I will mooue stormes; I will condole in some measure. To the rest yet, my chiefe humour is for a tyrant. I could play Ercles rarely, or a part to teare a Cat in, to make all split the raging Rocks; and shiuering shocks shall break the locks of prison gates, and Phibbus carre shall shine from farre, and make and marre the foolish Fates. This was lofty. Now name the rest of the Players. This is Ercles vaine, a tyrants vaine: a louer is more condoling
Quin. Francis Flute the Bellowes-mender
Flu. Heere Peter Quince
Quin. You must take Thisbie on you
Flut. What is Thisbie, a wandring Knight?
Quin. It is the Lady that Pyramus must loue
Flut. Nay faith, let not mee play a woman, I haue a
beard comming
Qui. That's all one, you shall play it in a Maske, and
you may speake as small as you will
Bot. And I may hide my face, let me play Thisbie too:
Ile speake in a monstrous little voyce; Thisne, Thisne, ah
Pyramus my louer deare, thy Thisbie deare, and Lady
deare
Quin. No no, you must play Pyramus, and Flute, you
Thisby
Bot. Well, proceed
Qu. Robin Starueling the Taylor
Star. Heere Peter Quince
Quince. Robin Starueling, you must play Thisbies
mother?
Tom Snowt, the Tinker
Snowt. Heere Peter Quince
Quin. you, Pyramus father; my self, Thisbies father; Snugge the Ioyner, you the Lyons part: and I hope there is a play fitted
Snug. Haue you the Lions part written? pray you if
be, giue it me, for I am slow of studie
Quin. You may doe it extemporie, for it is nothing
but roaring
Bot. Let mee play the Lyon too, I will roare that I will doe any mans heart good to heare me. I will roare, that I will make the Duke say, Let him roare againe, let him roare againe
Quin. If you should do it too terribly, you would fright the Dutchesse and the Ladies, that they would shrike, and that were enough to hang us all
All. That would hang vs euery mothers sonne
Bottome. I graunt you friends, if that you should fright the Ladies out of their Wittes, they would haue no more discretion but to hang vs: but I will aggrauate my voyce so, that I will roare you as gently as any sucking Doue; I will roare and 'twere any Nightingale
Quin. You can play no part but Piramus, for Piramus is a sweet-fac'd man, a proper man as one shall see in a summers day; a most louely Gentleman-like man, therfore you must needs play Piramus
Bot. Well, I will vndertake it. What beard were I
best to play it in?
Quin. Why, what you will
Bot. I will discharge it, in either your straw-colour beard, your orange tawnie beard, your purple in graine beard, or your French-crowne colour'd beard, your perfect yellow
Quin. Some of your French Crownes haue no haire at all, and then you will play bare-fac'd. But masters here are your parts, and I am to intreat you, request you, and desire you, to con them by too morrow night: and meet me in the palace wood, a mile without the Towne, by Moone-light, there we will rehearse: for if we meete in the Citie, we shalbe dog'd with company, and our deuises knowne. In the meane time, I wil draw a bil of properties, such as our play wants. I pray you faile me not
Bottom. We will meete, and there we may rehearse more obscenely and couragiously. Take paines, be perfect, adieu
Quin. At the Dukes oake we meete
Bot. Enough, hold or cut bow-strings.
Exeunt.
Actus Secundus.
Enter a Fairie at one dore, and Robin goodfellow at another.
Rob. How now spirit, whether wander you?
Fai. Ouer hil, ouer dale, through bush, through briar,
Ouer parke, ouer pale, through flood, through fire,
I do wander euerie where, swifter then y Moons sphere;
And I serue the Fairy Queene, to dew her orbs vpon the green.
The Cowslips tall, her pensioners bee,
In their gold coats, spots you see,
Those be Rubies, Fairie fauors,
In those freckles, liue their sauors,
I must go seeke some dew drops heere,
And hang a pearle in euery cowslips eare.
Farewell thou Lob of spirits, Ile be gon,
Our Queene and all her Elues come heere anon
Rob. The King doth keepe his Reuels here to night,
Take heed the Queene come not within his sight,
For Oberon is passing fell and wrath,
Because that she, as her attendant, hath
A louely boy stolne from an Indian King,
She neuer had so sweet a changeling,
And iealous Oberon would haue the childe
Knight of his traine, to trace the Forrests wilde.
But she (perforce) with-holds the loued boy,
Crownes him with flowers, and makes him all her ioy.
And now they neuer meete in groue, or greene,
By fountaine cleere, or spangled star-light sheene,
But they do square, that all their Elues for feare
Creepe into Acorne cups and hide them there
Fai. Either I mistake your shape and making quite,
Or else you are that shrew'd and knauish spirit
Cal'd Robin Good-fellow. Are you not hee,
That frights the maidens of the Villagree,
Skim milke, and sometimes labour in the querne,
And bootlesse make the breathlesse huswife cherne,
And sometime make the drinke to beare no barme,
Misleade night-wanderers, laughing at their harme,
Those that Hobgoblin call you, and sweet Pucke,
You do their worke, and they shall haue good lucke.
Are not you he?
Rob. Thou speak'st aright;
I am that merrie wanderer of the night:
I iest to Oberon, and make him smile,
When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile,
Neighing in likenesse of a silly foale,
And sometime lurke I in a Gossips bole,
In very likenesse of a roasted crab:
And when she drinkes, against her lips I bob,
And on her withered dewlop poure the Ale.
The wisest Aunt telling the saddest tale,
Sometime for three-foot stoole, mistaketh me,
Then slip I from her bum, downe topples she,
And tailour cries, and fals into a coffe.
And then the whole quire hold their hips, and loffe,
And waxen in their mirth, and neeze, and sweare,
A merrier houre was neuer wasted there.
But roome Fairy, heere comes Oberon
Fair. And heere my Mistris:
Would that he were gone.
Enter the King of Fairies at one doore with his traine, and the
Queene at
another with hers.
Ob. Ill met by Moone-light.
Proud Tytania
Qu. What, iealous Oberon? Fairy skip hence.
I haue forsworne his bed and companie
Ob. Tarrie rash Wanton; am not I thy Lord?
Qu. Then I must be thy Lady: but I know
When thou wast stolne away from Fairy Land,
And in the shape of Corin, sate all day,
Playing on pipes of Corne, and versing loue
To amorous Phillida. Why art thou heere
Come from the farthest steepe of India?
But that forsooth the bouncing Amazon
Your buskin'd Mistresse, and your Warrior loue,
To Theseus must be Wedded; and you come,
To giue their bed ioy and prosperitie
Ob. How canst thou thus for shame Tytania.
Glance at my credite, with Hippolita?
Knowing I know thy loue to Theseus?
Didst thou not leade him through the glimmering night
From Peregenia, whom he rauished?
And make him with faire Eagles breake his faith
With Ariadne, and Antiopa?
Que. These are the forgeries of iealousie,
And neuer since the middle Summers spring
Met we on hil, in dale, forrest, or mead,
By paued fountaine, or by rushie brooke,
Or in the beached margent of the sea,
To dance our ringlets to the whistling Winde,
But with thy braules thou hast disturb'd our sport.
Therefore the Windes, piping to vs in vaine,
As in reuenge, haue suck'd vp from the sea
Contagious fogges: Which falling in the Land,
Hath euerie petty Riuer made so proud,
That they haue ouer-borne their Continents.
The Oxe hath therefore stretch'd his yoake in vaine,
The Ploughman lost his sweat, and the greene Corne
Hath rotted, ere his youth attain'd a beard:
The fold stands empty in the drowned field,
And Crowes are fatted with the murrion flocke,
The nine mens Morris is fild vp with mud,
And the queint Mazes in the wanton greene,
For lacke of tread are vndistinguishable.
The humane mortals want their winter heere,
No night is now with hymne or caroll blest;
Therefore the Moone (the gouernesse of floods)
Pale in her anger, washes all the aire;
That Rheumaticke diseases doe abound.
And through this distemperature, we see
The seasons alter; hoared headed Frosts
Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson Rose,
And on old Hyems chinne and Icie crowne,
An odorous Chaplet of sweet Sommer buds
Is as in mockry set. The Spring, the Sommer,
The childing Autumne, angry Winter change
Their wonted Liueries, and the mazed world,
By their increase, now knowes not which is which;
And this same progeny of euills,
Comes from our debate, from our dissention,
We are their parents and originall
Ober. Do you amend it then, it lies in you,
Why should Titania crosse her Oberon?
I do but beg a little changeling boy,
To be my Henchman
Qu. Set your heart at rest,
The Fairy land buyes not the childe of me,
His mother was a Votresse of my Order,
And in the spiced Indian aire, by night
Full often hath she gossipt by my side,
And sat with me on Neptunes yellow sands,
Marking th' embarked traders on the flood,
When we haue laught to see the sailes conceiue,
And grow big bellied with the wanton winde:
Which she with pretty and with swimming gate,
Following (her wombe then rich with my yong squire)
Would imitate, and saile vpon the Land,
To fetch me trifles, and returne againe,
As from a voyage, rich with merchandize.
But she being mortall, of that boy did die,
And for her sake I doe reare vp her boy,
And for her sake I will not part with him
Ob. How long within this wood intend you stay?
Qu. Perchance till after Theseus wedding day.
If you will patiently dance in our Round,
And see our Moone-light reuels, goe with vs;
If not, shun me and I will spare your haunts
Ob. Giue me that boy, and I will goe with thee
Qu. Not for thy Fairy Kingdome. Fairies away:
We shall chide downe right, if I longer stay.
Exeunt
Ob. Wel, go thy way: thou shalt not from this groue,
Till I torment thee for this iniury.
My gentle Pucke come hither; thou remembrest
Since once I sat vpon a promontory,
And heard a Meare-maide on a Dolphins backe,
Vttering such dulcet and harmonious breath,
That the rude sea grew ciuill at her song,
And certaine starres shot madly from their Spheares,
To heare the Sea-maids musicke
Puc. I remember
Ob. That very time I say (but thou couldst not)
Flying betweene the cold Moone and the earth,
Cupid all arm'd; a certaine aime he tooke
At a faire Vestall, throned by the West,
And loos'd his loue-shaft smartly from his bow,
As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts,
But I might see young Cupids fiery shaft
Quencht in the chaste beames of the watry Moone;
And the imperiall Votresse passed on,
In maiden meditation, fancy free.
Yet markt I where the bolt of Cupid fell.
It fell vpon a little westerne flower;
Before, milke-white: now purple with loues wound,
And maidens call it, Loue in idlenesse.
Fetch me that flower; the hearb I shew'd thee once,
The iuyce of it, on sleeping eye-lids laid,
Will make or man or woman madly dote
Vpon the next liue creature that it sees.
Fetch me this hearbe, and be thou heere againe,
Ere the Leuiathan can swim a league
Pucke. Ile put a girdle about the earth, in forty minutes
Ober. Hauing once this iuyce,
Ile watch Titania, when she is asleepe,
And drop the liquor of it in her eyes:
The next thing when she waking lookes vpon,
(Be it on Lyon, Beare, or Wolfe, or Bull,
On medling Monkey, or on busie Ape)
Shee shall pursue it, with the soule of loue.
And ere I take this charme off from her sight,
(As I can take it with another hearbe)
Ile make her render vp her Page to me.
But who comes heere? I am inuisible,
And I will ouer-heare their conference.
Enter Demetrius, Helena following him.
Deme. I loue thee not, therefore pursue me not,
Where is Lysander, and faire Hermia?
The one Ile stay, the other stayeth me.
Thou toldst me they were stolne into this wood;
And heere am I, and wood within this wood,
Because I cannot meet my Hermia.
Hence, get thee gone, and follow me no more
Hel. You draw me, you hard-hearted Adamant,
But yet you draw not Iron, for my heart
Is true as steele. Leaue you your power to draw,
And I shall haue no power to follow you
Deme. Do I entice you? do I speake you faire?
Or rather doe I not in plainest truth,
Tell you I doe not, nor I cannot loue you?
Hel. And euen for that doe I loue thee the more;
I am your spaniell, and Demetrius,
The more you beat me, I will fawne on you.
Vse me but as your spaniell; spurne me, strike me,
Neglect me, lose me; onely giue me leaue
(Vnworthy as I am) to follow you.
What worser place can I beg in your loue,
(And yet a place of high respect with me)
Then to be vsed as you doe your dogge
Dem. Tempt not too much the hatred of my spirit,
For I am sicke when I do looke on thee
Hel. And I am sicke when I looke not on you
Dem. You doe impeach your modesty too much,
To leaue the Citty, and commit your selfe
Into the hands of one that loues you not,
To trust the opportunity of night.
And the ill counsell of a desert place,
With the rich worth of your virginity
Hel. Your vertue is my priuiledge: for that
It is not night when I doe see your face.
Therefore I thinke I am not in the night,
Nor doth this wood lacke worlds of company,
For you in my respect are all the world.
Then how can it be said I am alone,
When all the world is heere to looke on me?
Dem. Ile run from thee, and hide me in the brakes,
And leaue thee to the mercy of wilde beasts
Hel. The wildest hath not such a heart as you;
Runne when you will, the story shall be chang'd:
Apollo flies and Daphne holds the chase;
The Doue pursues the Griffin, the milde Hinde
Makes speed to catch the Tyger. Bootlesse speede,
When cowardise pursues, and valour flies
Demet. I will not stay thy questions, let me go;
Or if thou follow me, doe not beleeue,
But I shall doe thee mischiefe in the wood
Hel. I, in the Temple, in the Towne, and Field
You doe me mischiefe. Fye Demetrius,
Your wrongs doe set a scandall on my sexe:
We cannot fight for loue, as men may doe;
We should be woo'd, and were not made to wooe.
I follow thee, and make a heauen of hell,
To die vpon the hand I loue so well.
Enter.
Ob. Fare thee well Nymph, ere he do leaue this groue,
Thou shalt flie him, and he shall seeke thy loue.
Hast thou the flower there? Welcome wanderer.
Enter Pucke.
Puck. I there it is
Ob. I pray thee giue it me.
I know a banke where the wilde time blowes,
Where Oxslips and the nodding Violet growes,
Quite ouer-cannoped with luscious woodbine,
With sweet muske roses, and with Eglantine;
There sleepes Tytania, sometime of the night,
Lul'd in these flowers, with dances and delight:
And there the snake throwes her enammel'd skinne,
Weed wide enough to rap a Fairy in.
And with the iuyce of this Ile streake her eyes,
And make her full of hatefull fantasies.
Take thou some of it, and seek through this groue;
A sweet Athenian Lady is in loue
With a disdainefull youth: annoint his eyes,
But doe it when the next thing he espies,
May be the Lady. Thou shalt know the man,
By the Athenian garments he hath on.
Effect it with some care, that he may proue
More fond on her, then she vpon her loue;
And looke thou meet me ere the first Cocke crow
Pu. Feare not my Lord, your seruant shall do so.
Enter.
Enter Queene of Fairies, with her traine.
Queen. Come, now a Roundell, and a Fairy song;
Then for the third part of a minute hence,
Some to kill Cankers in the muske rose buds,
Some warre with Reremise, for their leathern wings.
To make my small Elues coates, and some keepe backe
The clamorous Owle that nightly hoots and wonders
At our queint spirits: Sing me now asleepe,
Then to your offices, and let me rest
Fairies Sing. You spotted Snakes with double tongue,
Thorny Hedgehogges be not seene,
Newts and blinde wormes do no wrong,
Come not neere our Fairy Queene.
Philomele with melodie,
Sing in your sweet Lullaby.
Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lulla, lulla, lullaby,
Neuer harme, nor spell, nor charme,
Come our louely Lady nye,
So good night with Lullaby
2.Fairy. Weauing Spiders come not heere,
Hence you long leg'd Spinners, hence:
Beetles blacke approach not neere;
Worme nor Snayle doe no offence.
Philomele with melody, &c
1.Fairy. Hence away, now all is well;
One aloofe, stand Centinell.
Shee sleepes.
Enter Oberon.
Ober. What thou seest when thou dost wake,
Do it for thy true Loue take:
Loue and languish for his sake.
Be it Ounce, or Catte, or Beare,
Pard, or Boare with bristled haire,
In thy eye that shall appeare,
When thou wak'st, it is thy deare,
Wake when some vile thing is neere.
Enter Lisander and Hermia.
Lis. Faire loue, you faint with wandring in y woods,
And to speake troth I haue forgot our way:
Wee'll rest vs Hermia, If you thinke it good,
And tarry for the comfort of the day
Her. Be it so Lysander; finde you out a bed,
For I vpon this banke will rest my head
Lys. One turfe shall serue as pillow for vs both,
One heart, one bed, two bosomes, and one troth
Her. Nay good Lysander, for my sake my deere
Lie further off yet, doe not lie so neere
Lys. O take the sence sweet, of my innocence,
Loue takes the meaning, in loues conference,
I meane that my heart vnto yours is knit,
So that but one heart can you make of it.
Two bosomes interchanged with an oath,
So then two bosomes, and a single troth.
Then by your side, no bed-roome me deny,
For lying so, Hermia, I doe not lye
Her. Lysander riddles very prettily;
Now much beshrew my manners and my pride,
If Hermia meant to say, Lysander lied.
But gentle friend, for loue and courtesie
Lie further off, in humane modesty,
Such separation, as may well be said,
Becomes a vertuous batchelour, and a maide,
So farre be distant, and good night sweet friend;
Thy loue nere alter, till thy sweet life end
Lys. Amen, amen, to that faire prayer, say I,
And then end life, when I end loyalty:
Heere is my bed, sleepe giue thee all his rest
Her. With halfe that wish, the wishers eyes be prest.
Enter Pucke. They sleepe.
Puck. Through the Forest haue I gone,
But Athenian finde I none,
One whose eyes I might approue
This flowers force in stirring loue.
Nigh and silence: who is heere?
Weedes of Athens he doth weare:
This is he (my master said)
Despised the Athenian maide:
And heere the maiden sleeping sound,
On the danke and durty ground.
Pretty soule, she durst not lye
Neere this lacke-loue, this kill-curtesie.
Churle, vpon thy eyes I throw
All the power this charme doth owe:
When thou wak'st, let loue forbid
Sleepe his seate on thy eye-lid.
So awake when I am gone:
For I must now to Oberon.
Enter.
Enter Demetrius and Helena running.
Hel. Stay, though thou kill me, sweete Demetrius
De. I charge thee hence, and do not haunt me thus
Hel. O wilt thou darkling leaue me? do not so
De. Stay on thy perill, I alone will goe.
Exit Demetrius.
Hel. O I am out of breath, in this fond chace,
The more my prayer, the lesser is my grace,
Happy is Hermia, wheresoere she lies;
For she hath blessed and attractiue eyes.
How came her eyes so bright? Not with salt teares.
If so, my eyes are oftner washt then hers.
No, no, I am as vgly as a Beare;
For beasts that meete me, runne away for feare,
Therefore no maruaile, though Demetrius
Doe as a monster, flie my presence thus.
What wicked and dissembling glasse of mine,
Made me compare with Hermias sphery eyne?
But who is here? Lysander on the ground;
Deade or asleepe? I see no bloud, no wound,
Lysander, if you liue, good sir awake
Lys. And run through fire I will for thy sweet sake.
Transparent Helena, nature her shewes art,
That through thy bosome makes me see thy heart.
Where is Demetrius? oh how fit a word
Is that vile name, to perish on my sword!
Hel. Do not say so Lysander, say not so:
What though he loue your Hermia? Lord, what though?
Yet Hermia still loues you; then be content
Lys. Content with Hermia? no, I do repent
The tedious minutes I with her haue spent.
Not Hermia, but Helena now I loue;
Who will not change a Rauen for a Doue?
The will of man is by his reason sway'd:
And reason saies you are the worthier Maide.
Things growing are not ripe vntill their season;
So I being yong, till now ripe not to reason,
And touching now the point of humane skill,
Reason becomes the Marshall to my will.
And leades me to your eyes, where I orelooke
Loues stories, written in Loues richest booke
Hel. Wherefore was I to this keene mockery borne?
When at your hands did I deserue this scorne?
Ist not enough, ist not enough, yong man,
That I did neuer, no nor neuer can,
Deserue a sweete looke from Demetrius eye,
But you must flout my insufficiency?
Good troth you do me wrong (good-sooth you do)
In such disdainfull manner, me to wooe.
But fare you well; perforce I must confesse,
I thought you Lord of more true gentlenesse.
Oh, that a Lady of one man refus'd,
Should of another therefore be abus'd.
Enter
Lys. She sees not Hermia: Hermia sleepe thou there,
And neuer maist thou come Lysander neere;
For as a surfeit of the sweetest things
The deepest loathing to the stomacke brings:
Or as the heresies that men do leaue,
Are hated most of those that did deceiue:
So thou, my surfeit, and my heresie,
Of all be hated; but the most of me;
And all my powers addresse your loue and might,
To honour Helen, and to be her Knight.
Enter.
Her. Helpe me Lysander, helpe me; do thy best
To plucke this crawling serpent from my brest.
Aye me, for pitty; what a dreame was here?
Lysander looke, how I do quake with feare:
Me-thought a serpent eate my heart away,
And yet sat smiling at his cruell prey.
Lysander, What remoou'd? Lysander, Lord,
What, out of hearing, gone? No sound, no word?
Alacke where are you? speake and if you heare:
Speake of all loues; I sound almost with feare.
No, then I well perceiue you are not nye,
Either death or you Ile finde immediately.
Enter.
Actus Tertius.
Enter the Clownes.
Bot. Are we all met? Quin. Pat, pat, and here's a maruailous conuenient place for our rehearsall. This greene plot shall be our stage, this hauthorne brake our tyring house, and we will do it in action, as we will do it before the Duke
Bot. Peter Quince?
Peter. What saist thou, bully Bottome?
Bot. There are things in this Comedy of Piramus and
Thisby, that will neuer please. First, Piramus must draw a
sword to kill himselfe; which the Ladies cannot abide.
How answere you that?
Snout. Berlaken, a parlous feare
Star. I beleeue we must leaue the killing out, when
all is done
Bot. Not a whit, I haue a deuice to make all well. Write me a Prologue, and let the Prologue seeme to say, we will do no harme with our swords, and that Pyramus is not kill'd indeede: and for the more better assurance, tell them, that I Piramus am not Piramus, but Bottome the Weauer; this will put them out of feare
Quin. Well, we will haue such a Prologue, and it shall
be written in eight and sixe
Bot. No, make it two more, let it be written in eight
and eight
Snout. Will not the Ladies be afear'd of the Lyon?
Star. I feare it, I promise you
Bot. Masters, you ought to consider with your selues, to bring in (God shield vs) a Lyon among Ladies, is a most dreadfull thing. For there is not a more fearefull wilde foule then your Lyon liuing: and wee ought to looke to it
Snout. Therefore another Prologue must tell he is not a Lyon
Bot. Nay, you must name his name, and halfe his face must be seene through the Lyons necke, and he himselfe must speake through, saying thus, or to the same defect; Ladies, or faire Ladies, I would wish you, or I would request you, or I would entreat you, not to feare, not to tremble: my life for yours. If you thinke I come hither as a Lyon, it were pitty of my life. No, I am no such thing, I am a man as other men are; and there indeed let him name his name, and tell him plainly hee is Snug the ioyner
Quin. Well, it shall be so; but there is two hard things, that is, to bring the Moone-light into a chamber: for you know Piramus and Thisby meete by Moonelight
Sn. Doth the Moone shine that night wee play our
play?
Bot. A Calender, a Calender, looke in the Almanack,
finde out Moone-shine, finde out Moone-shine.
Enter Pucke.
Quin. Yes, it doth shine that night
Bot. Why then may you leaue a casement of the great chamber window (where we play) open, and the Moone may shine in at the casement
Quin. I, or else one must come in with a bush of thorns and a lanthorne, and say he comes to disfigure, or to present the person of Moone-shine. Then there is another thing, we must haue a wall in the great Chamber; for Piramus and Thisby (saies the story) did talke through the chinke of a wall
Sn. You can neuer bring in a wall. What say you Bottome? Bot. Some man or other must present wall, and let him haue some Plaster, or some Lome, or some rough cast about him, to signifie wall; or let him hold his fingers thus; and through that cranny shall Piramus and Thisby whisper
Quin. If that may be, then all is well. Come, sit downe euery mothers sonne, and rehearse your parts. Piramus, you begin; when you haue spoken your speech, enter into that Brake, and so euery one according to his cue. Enter Robin.
Rob. What hempen home-spuns haue we swaggering
here,
So neere the Cradle of the Faierie Queene?
What, a Play toward? Ile be an auditor,
An Actor too perhaps, if I see cause
Quin. Speake Piramus: Thisby stand forth
Pir. Thisby, the flowers of odious sauors sweete
Quin. Odours, odours
Pir. Odours sauors sweete,
So hath thy breath, my dearest Thisby deare.
But harke, a voyce: stay thou but here a while,
And by and by I will to thee appeare.
Exit. Pir.
Puck. A stranger Piramus, then ere plaid here
This. Must I speake now?
Pet. I marry must you. For you must vnderstand he
goes but to see a noyse that he heard, and is to come againe
Thys. Most radiant Piramus, most Lilly white of hue,
Of colour like the red rose on triumphant bryer,
Most brisky Iuuenall, and eke most louely Iew,
As true as truest horse, that yet would neuer tyre,
Ile meete thee Piramus, at Ninnies toombe
Pet. Ninus toombe man: why, you must not speake that yet; that you answere to Piramus: you speake all your part at once, cues and all. Piramus enter, your cue is past; it is neuer tyre
Thys. O, as true as truest horse, that yet would neuer
tyre:
Pir. If I were faire, Thisby I were onely thine
Pet. O monstrous. O strange. We are hanted; pray
masters, flye masters, helpe.
The Clownes all Exit.
Puk. Ile follow you, Ile leade you about a Round,
Through bogge, through bush, through brake, through bryer,
Sometime a horse Ile be, sometime a hound:
A hogge, a headlesse beare, sometime a fire,
And neigh, and barke, and grunt, and rore, and burne,
Like horse, hound, hog, beare, fire, at euery turne.
Enter.
Enter Piramus with the Asse head.
Bot. Why do they run away? This is a knauery of them to make me afeard. Enter Snowt
Sn. O Bottom, thou art chang'd; What doe I see on
thee?
Bot. What do you see? You see an Asse-head of your
owne, do you?
Enter Peter Quince.
Pet. Blesse thee Bottome, blesse thee; thou art translated.
Enter.
Bot. I see their knauery; this is to make an asse of me, to fright me if they could; but I will not stirre from this place, do what they can. I will walke vp and downe here, and I will sing that they shall heare I am not afraid. The Woosell cocke, so blacke of hew, With Orenge-tawny bill. The Throstle, with his note so true, The Wren and little quill
Tyta. What Angell wakes me from my flowry bed?
Bot. The Finch, the Sparrow, and the Larke,
The plainsong Cuckow gray;
Whose note full many a man doth marke,
And dares not answere, nay.
For indeede, who would set his wit to so foolish a bird?
Who would giue a bird the lye, though he cry Cuckow,
neuer so?
Tyta. I pray thee gentle mortall, sing againe,
Mine eare is much enamored of thy note;
On the first view to say, to sweare I loue thee.
So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape.
And thy faire vertues force (perforce) doth moue me
Bot. Me-thinkes mistresse, you should haue little reason for that: and yet to say the truth, reason and loue keepe little company together, nowadayes. The more the pittie, that some honest neighbours will not make them friends. Nay, I can gleeke vpon occasion
Tyta. Thou art as wise, as thou art beautifull
Bot. Not so neither: but if I had wit enough to get out of this wood, I haue enough to serue mine owne turne
Tyta. Out of this wood, do not desire to goe,
Thou shalt remaine here, whether thou wilt or no.
I am a spirit of no common rate:
The Summer still doth tend vpon my state,
And I doe loue thee; therefore goe with me,
Ile giue thee Fairies to attend on thee;
And they shall fetch thee Iewels from the deepe,
And sing, while thou on pressed flowers dost sleepe:
And I will purge thy mortall grossenesse so,
That thou shalt like an airie spirit go.
Enter Pease-blossome, Cobweb, Moth, Mustardseede, and foure
Fairies.
Fai. Ready; and I, and I, and I, Where shall we go?
Tita. Be kinde and curteous to this Gentleman,
Hop in his walkes, and gambole in his eies,
Feede him with Apricocks, and Dewberries,
With purple Grapes, greene Figs, and Mulberries,
The honie-bags steale from the humble Bees,
And for night-tapers crop their waxen thighes,
And light them at the fierie-Glow-wormes eyes,
To haue my loue to bed, and to arise:
And plucke the wings from painted Butterflies,
To fan the Moone-beames from his sleeping eies.
Nod to him Elues, and doe him curtesies
1.Fai. Haile mortall, haile
2.Fai. Haile
3.Fai. Haile
Bot. I cry your worships mercy hartily; I beseech your worships name
Cob. Cobweb
Bot. I shall desire you of more acquaintance, good
Master Cobweb: if I cut my finger, I shall make bold
with you.
Your name honest Gentleman?
Pease. Pease Blossome
Bot. I pray you commend me to mistresse Squash, your mother, and to master Peascod your father. Good master Pease-blossome, I shal desire of you more acquaintance to. Your name I beseech you sir? Mus. Mustard-seede
Peas. Pease-blossome
Bot. Good master Mustard seede, I know your patience well: that same cowardly gyant-like Oxe beefe hath deuoured many a gentleman of your house. I promise you, your kindred hath made my eyes water ere now. I desire you more acquaintance, good Master Mustard-seede
Tita. Come waite vpon him, lead him to my bower.
The Moone me-thinks, lookes with a watrie eie,
And when she weepes, weepe euerie little flower,
Lamenting some enforced chastitie.
Tye vp my louers tongue, bring him silently.
Enter.
Enter King of Pharies, solus.
Ob. I wonder if Titania be awak't;
Then what it was that next came in her eye,
Which she must dote on, in extremitie.
Enter Pucke.
Here comes my messenger: how now mad spirit,
What night-rule now about this haunted groue?
Puck. My Mistris with a monster is in loue,
Neere to her close and consecrated bower,
While she was in her dull and sleeping hower,
A crew of patches, rude Mechanicals,
That worke for bread vpon Athenian stals,
Were met together to rehearse a Play,
Intended for great Theseus nuptiall day:
The shallowest thick-skin of that barren sort,
Who Piramus presented, in their sport,
Forsooke his Scene, and entred in a brake,
When I did him at this aduantage take,
An Asses nole I fixed on his head.
Anon his Thisbie must be answered,
And forth my Mimmick comes: when they him spie,
As Wilde-geese, that the creeping Fowler eye,
Or russed-pated choughes, many in sort
(Rising and cawing at the guns report)
Seuer themselues, and madly sweepe the skye:
So at his sight, away his fellowes flye,
And at our stampe, here ore and ore one fals;
He murther cries, and helpe from Athens cals.
Their sense thus weake, lost with their feares thus strong,
Made senslesse things begin to do them wrong.
For briars and thornes at their apparell snatch,
Some sleeues, some hats, from yeelders all things catch,
I led them on in this distracted feare,
And left sweete Piramus translated there:
When in that moment (so it came to passe)
Tytania waked, and straightway lou'd an Asse
Ob. This fals out better then I could deuise:
But hast thou yet lacht the Athenians eyes,
With the loue iuyce, as I bid thee doe?
Rob. I tooke him sleeping (that is finisht to)
And the Athenian woman by his side,
That when he wak't, of force she must be eyde.
Enter Demetrius and Hermia.
Ob. Stand close, this is the same Athenian
Rob. This is the woman, but not this the man
Dem. O why rebuke you him that loues you so?
Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe
Her. Now I but chide, but I should vse thee worse.
For thou (I feare) hast giuen me cause to curse,
If thou hast slaine Lysander in his sleepe,
Being oreshooes in bloud, plunge in the deepe, and kill
me too:
The Sunne was not so true vnto the day,
As he to me. Would he haue stollen away,
From sleeping Hermia? Ile beleeue as soone
This whole earth may be bord, and that the Moone
May through the Center creepe, and so displease
Her brothers noonetide, with th'Antipodes.
It cannot be but thou hast murdred him,
So should a murtherer looke, so dead, so grim
Dem. So should the murderer looke, and so should I,
Pierst through the heart with your stearne cruelty:
Yet you the murderer lookes as bright as cleare,
As yonder Venus in her glimmering spheare
Her. What's this to my Lysander? where is he?
Ah good Demetrius, wilt thou giue him me?
Dem. I'de rather giue his carkasse to my hounds
Her. Out dog, out cur, thou driu'st me past the bounds
Of maidens patience. Hast thou slaine him then?
Henceforth be neuer numbred among men.
Oh, once tell true, euen for my sake,
Durst thou a lookt vpon him, being awake?
And hast thou kill'd him sleeping? O braue tutch:
Could not a worme, an Adder do so much?
An Adder did it: for with doubler tongue
Then thine (thou serpent) neuer Adder stung
Dem. You spend your passion on a mispris'd mood,
I am not guiltie of Lysanders blood:
Nor is he dead for ought that I can tell
Her. I pray thee tell me then that he is well
Dem. And if I could, what should I get therefore?
Her. A priuiledge, neuer to see me more;
And from thy hated presence part I: see me no more
Whether he be dead or no.
Enter.
Dem. There is no following her in this fierce vaine,
Here therefore for a while I will remaine.
So sorrowes heauinesse doth heauier grow:
For debt that bankrout slip doth sorrow owe,
Which now in some slight measure it will pay,
If for his tender here I make some stay.
Lie downe.
Ob. What hast thou done? Thou hast mistaken quite
And laid the loue iuyce on some true loues sight:
Of thy misprision, must perforce ensue
Some true loue turn'd, and not a false turn'd true
Rob. Then fate ore-rules, that one man holding troth,
A million faile, confounding oath on oath
Ob. About the wood, goe swifter then the winde,
And Helena of Athens looke thou finde.
All fancy sicke she is, and pale of cheere,
With sighes of loue, that costs the fresh bloud deare.
By some illusion see thou bring her heere,
Ile charme his eyes against she doth appeare
Robin. I go, I go, looke how I goe,
Swifter then arrow from the Tartars bowe.
Enter.
Ob. Flower of this purple die,
Hit with Cupids archery,
Sinke in apple of his eye,
When his loue he doth espie,
Let her shine as gloriously
As the Venus of the sky.
When thou wak'st if she be by,
Beg of her for remedy.
Enter Pucke.
Puck. Captaine of our Fairy band,
Helena is heere at hand,
And the youth, mistooke by me,
Pleading for a Louers fee.
Shall we their fond Pageant see?
Lord, what fooles these mortals be!
Ob. Stand aside: the noyse they make,
Will cause Demetrius to awake
Puck. Then will two at once wooe one,
That must needs be sport alone:
And those things doe best please me,
That befall preposterously.
Enter Lysander and Helena.
Lys. Why should you think y I should wooe in scorn?
Scorne and derision neuer comes in teares:
Looke when I vow I weepe; and vowes so borne,
In their natiuity all truth appeares.
How can these things in me, seeme scorne to you?
Bearing the badge of faith to proue them true
Hel. You doe aduance your cunning more & more,
When truth kils truth, O diuelish holy fray!
These vowes are Hermias. Will you giue her ore?
Weigh oath with oath, and you will nothing weigh.
Your vowes to her, and me, (put in two scales)
Will euen weigh, and both as light as tales
Lys. I had no iudgement, when to her I swore
Hel. Nor none in my minde, now you giue her ore
Lys. Demetrius loues her, and he loues not you.
Awa.
Dem. O Helen, goddesse, nimph, perfect, diuine,
To what, my loue, shall I compare thine eyne!
Christall is muddy, O how ripe in show,
Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow!
That pure congealed white, high Taurus snow,
Fan'd with the Easterne winde, turnes to a crow,
When thou holdst vp thy hand. O let me kisse
This Princesse of pure white, this seale of blisse
Hell. O spight! O hell! I see you are all bent
To set against me, for your merriment:
If you were ciuill, and knew curtesie,
You would not doe me thus much iniury.
Can you not hate me, as I know you doe,
But you must ioyne in soules to mocke me to?
If you are men, as men you are in show,
You would not vse a gentle Lady so;
To vow, and sweare, and superpraise my parts,
When I am sure you hate me with your hearts.
You both are Riuals, and loue Hermia;
And now both Riuals to mocke Helena.
A trim exploit, a manly enterprize,
To coniure teares vp in a poore maids eyes,
With your derision; none of noble sort,
Would so offend a Virgin, and extort
A poore soules patience, all to make you sport,
Lysa. You are vnkind Demetrius; be not so,
For you loue Hermia; this you know I know;
And here with all good will, with all my heart,
In Hermias loue I yeeld you vp my part;
And yours of Helena, To me bequeath,
Whom I do loue, and will do to my death
Hel. Neuer did mockers wast more idle breth
Dem. Lysander, keep thy Hermia, I will none:
If ere I lou'd her, all that loue is gone.
My heart to her, but as guest-wise soiourn'd,
And now to Helen it is home return'd,
There to remaine
Lys. It is not so
De. Disparage not the faith thou dost not know,
Lest to thy perill thou abide it deare.
Looke where thy Loue comes, yonder is thy deare.
Enter Hermia.
Her. Dark night, that from the eye his function takes,
The eare more quicke of apprehension makes,
Wherein it doth impaire the seeing sense,
It paies the hearing double recompence.
Thou art not by mine eye, Lysander found,
Mine eare (I thanke it) brought me to that sound.
But why vnkindly didst thou leaue me so?
Lysan. Why should hee stay whom Loue doth presse to go?
Her. What loue could presse Lysander from my side?
Lys. Lysanders loue (that would not let him bide)
Faire Helena; who more engilds the night,
Then all yon fierie oes, and eies of light.
Why seek'st thou me? Could not this make thee know,
The hate I bare thee, made me leaue thee so?
Her. You speake not as you thinke; it cannot be
Hel. Loe, she is one of this confederacy,
Now I perceiue they haue conioyn'd all three,
To fashion this false sport in spight of me.
Iniurous Hermia, most vngratefull maid,
Haue you conspir'd, haue you with these contriu'd
To baite me, with this foule derision?
Is all the counsell that we two haue shar'd,
The sisters vowes, the houres that we haue spent,
When wee haue chid the hasty footed time,
For parting vs; O, is all forgot?
All schooledaies friendship, child-hood innocence?
We Hermia, like two Artificiall gods,
Haue with our needles, created both one flower,
Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion,
Both warbling of one song, both in one key:
As if our hands, our sides, voices, and mindes
Had beene incorporate. So we grew together,
Like to a double cherry, seeming parted,
But yet a vnion in partition,
Two louely berries molded on one stem,
So with two seeming bodies, but one heart,
Two of the first life coats in Heraldry,
Due but to one and crowned with one crest.
And will you rent our ancient loue asunder,
To ioyne with men in scorning your poore friend?
It is not friendly, 'tis not maidenly.
Our sexe as well as I, may chide you for it,
Though I alone doe feele the iniurie
Her. I am amazed at your passionate words,
I scorne you not; It seemes that you scorne me
Hel. Haue you not set Lysander, as in scorne
To follow me, and praise my eies and face?
And made your other loue, Demetrius
(Who euen but now did spurne me with his foote)
To call me goddesse, nimph, diuine, and rare,
Precious, celestiall? Wherefore speakes he this
To her he hates? and wherefore doth Lysander
Denie your loue (so rich within his soule)
And tender me (forsooth) affection,
But by your setting on, by your consent?
What though I be not so in grace as you,
So hung vpon with loue, so fortunate?
(But miserable most, to loue vnlou'd)
This you should pittie, rather then despise
Her. I vnderstand not what you meane by this
Hel. I, doe, perseuer, counterfeit sad lookes,
Make mouthes vpon me when I turne my backe,
Winke each at other, hold the sweete iest vp:
This sport well carried, shall be chronicled.
If you haue any pittie, grace, or manners,
You would not make me such an argument:
But fare ye well, 'tis partly mine owne fault,
Which death or absence soone shall remedie
Lys. Stay gentle Helena, heare my excuse,
My loue, my life, my soule, faire Helena
Hel. O excellent!
Her. Sweete, do not scorne her so
Dem. If she cannot entreate, I can compell
Lys. Thou canst compell, no more then she entreate.
Thy threats haue no more strength then her weak praise.
Helen, I loue thee, by my life I doe;
I sweare by that which I will lose for thee,
To proue him false, that saies I loue thee not
Dem. I say, I loue thee more then he can do
Lys. If thou say so, withdraw and proue it too
Dem. Quick, come
Her. Lysander, whereto tends all this?
Lys. Away, you Ethiope
Dem. No, no, Sir, seeme to breake loose;
Take on as you would follow,
But yet come not: you are a tame man, go
Lys. Hang off thou cat, thou bur; vile thing let loose,
Or I will shake thee from me like a serpent
Her. Why are you growne so rude?
What change is this sweete Loue?
Lys. Thy loue? out tawny Tartar, out;
Out loathed medicine; O hated poison hence
Her. Do you not iest?
Hel. Yes sooth, and so do you
Lys. Demetrius: I will keepe my word with thee
Dem. I would I had your bond: for I perceiue
A weake bond holds you; Ile not trust your word
Lys. What, should I hurt her, strike her, kill her dead?
Although I hate her, Ile not harme her so
Her. What, can you do me greater harme then hate?
Hate me, wherefore? O me, what newes my Loue?
Am not I Hermia? Are not you Lysander?
I am as faire now, as I was ere while.
Since night you lou'd me: yet since night you left me.
Why then you left me (O the gods forbid)
In earnest, shall I say?
Lys. I, by my life;
And neuer did desire to see thee more.
Therefore be out of hope, of question, of doubt;
Be certaine, nothing truer: 'tis no iest,
That I do hate thee, and loue Helena
Her. O me, you iugler, you canker blossome,
You theefe of loue; What, haue you come by night,
And stolne my loues heart from him?
Hel. Fine yfaith:
Haue you no modesty, no maiden shame,
No touch of bashfulnesse? What, will you teare
Impatient answers from my gentle tongue?
Fie, fie, you counterfeit, you puppet, you
Her. Puppet? why so? I, that way goes the game.
Now I perceiue that she hath made compare
Betweene our statures, she hath vrg'd her height,
And with her personage, her tall personage,
Her height (forsooth) she hath preuail'd with him.
And are you growne so high in his esteeme,
Because I am so dwarfish, and so low?
How low am I, thou painted May-pole? Speake,
How low am I? I am not yet so low,
But that my nailes can reach vnto thine eyes
Hel. I pray you though you mocke me, gentlemen,
Let her not hurt me; I was neuer curst:
I haue no gift at all in shrewishnesse;
I am a right maide for my cowardize;
Let her not strike me: you perhaps may thinke,
Because she is something lower then my selfe,
That I can match her
Her. Lower? harke againe
Hel. Good Hermia, do not be so bitter with me,
I euermore did loue you Hermia,
Did euer keepe your counsels, neuer wronged you,
Saue that in loue vnto Demetrius,
I told him of your stealth vnto this wood.
He followed you, for loue I followed him,
But he hath chid me hence, and threatned me
To strike me, spurne me, nay to kill me too;
And now, so you will let me quiet go,
To Athens will I beare my folly backe,
And follow you no further. Let me go.
You see how simple, and how fond I am
Her. Why get you gone: who ist that hinders you?
Hel. A foolish heart, that I leaue here behinde
Her. What, with Lysander?
Her. With Demetrius
Lys. Be not afraid, she shall not harme thee Helena
Dem. No sir, she shall not, though you take her part
Hel. O when she's angry, she is keene and shrewd,
She was a vixen when she went to schoole,
And though she be but little, she is fierce
Her. Little againe? Nothing but low and little?
Why will you suffer her to flout me thus?
Let me come to her
Lys. Get you gone you dwarfe,
You minimus, of hindring knot-grasse made,
You bead, you acorne
Dem. You are too officious,
In her behalfe that scornes your seruices.
Let her alone, speake not of Helena,
Take not her part. For if thou dost intend
Neuer so little shew of loue to her,
Thou shalt abide it
Lys. Now she holds me not,
Now follow if thou dar'st, to try whose right,
Of thine or mine is most in Helena
Dem. Follow? Nay, Ile goe with thee cheeke by
iowle.
Exit Lysander and Demetrius.
Her. You Mistris, all this coyle is long of you.
Nay, goe not backe
Hel. I will not trust you I,
Nor longer stay in your curst companie.
Your hands then mine, are quicker for a fray,
My legs are longer though to runne away.
Enter Oberon and Pucke.
Ob. This is thy negligence, still thou mistak'st,
Or else committ'st thy knaueries willingly
Puck. Beleeue me, King of shadowes, I mistooke,
Did not you tell me, I should know the man,
By the Athenian garments he hath on?
And so farre blamelesse proues my enterprize,
That I haue nointed an Athenians eies,
And so farre am I glad, it so did sort,
As this their iangling I esteeme a sport
Ob. Thou seest these Louers seeke a place to fight,
Hie therefore Robin, ouercast the night,
The starrie Welkin couer thou anon,
With drooping fogge as blacke as Acheron,
And lead these testie Riuals so astray,
As one come not within anothers way.
Like to Lysander, sometime frame thy tongue,
Then stirre Demetrius vp with bitter wrong;
And sometime raile thou like Demetrius;
And from each other looke thou leade them thus,
Till ore their browes, death-counterfeiting, sleepe
With leaden legs, and Battie-wings doth creepe:
Then crush this hearbe into Lysanders eie,
Whose liquor hath this vertuous propertie,
To take from thence all error, with his might,
and make his eie-bals role with wonted sight.
When they next wake, all this derision
Shall seeme a dreame, and fruitless vision,
And backe to Athens shall the Louers wend
With league, whose date till death shall neuer end.
Whiles I in this affaire do thee imploy,
Ile to my Queene, and beg her Indian Boy;
And then I will her charmed eie release
From monsters view, and all things shall be peace
Puck. My Fairie Lord, this must be done with haste,
For night-swift Dragons cut the Clouds full fast,
And yonder shines Auroras harbinger;
At whose approach Ghosts wandring here and there,
Troope home to Church-yards; damned spirits all,
That in crosse-waies and flouds haue buriall,
Alreadie to their wormie beds are gone;
For feare least day should looke their shames vpon,
They wilfully themselues exile from light,
And must for aye consort with blacke browd night
Ob. But we are spirits of another sort:
I, with the mornings loue haue oft made sport,
And like a Forrester, the groues may tread,
Euen till the Easterne gate all fierie red,
Opening on Neptune, With faire blessed beames,
Turnes into yellow gold, his salt greene streames.
But not withstanding haste, make no delay:
We may effect this businesse, yet ere day
Puck. Vp and downe, vp and downe, I will leade
them vp and downe: I am fear'd in field and towne.
Goblin, lead them vp and downe: here comes one.
Enter Lysander.
Lys. Where art thou, proud Demetrius?
Speake thou now
Rob. Here villaine, drawne & readie. Where art thou?
Lys. I will be with thee straight
Rob. Follow me then to plainer ground.
Enter Demetrius.
Dem. Lysander, speake againe;
Thou runaway, thou coward, art thou fled?
Speake in some bush: Where dost thou hide thy head?
Rob. Thou coward, art thou bragging to the stars,
Telling the bushes that thou look'st for wars,
And wilt not come? Come recreant, come thou childe,
Ile whip thee with a rod. He is defil'd
That drawes a sword on thee
Dem. Yea, art thou there?
Ro. Follow my voice, we'l try no manhood here.
Enter.
Lys. He goes before me, and still dares me on,
When I come where he cals, then he's gone.
The Villaine is much lighter heel'd then I:
I followed fast, but faster he did flye;
shifting places.
That fallen am I in darke vneuen way,
And here wil rest me. Come thou gentle day:
lye down.
For if but once thou shew me thy gray light,
Ile finde Demetrius, and reuenge this spight.
Enter Robin and Demetrius.
Rob. Ho, ho, ho; coward, why com'st thou not?
Dem. Abide me, if thou dar'st. For well I wot,
Thou runst before me, shifting euery place,
And dar'st not stand, nor looke me in the face.
Where art thou?
Rob. Come hither, I am here
Dem. Nay then thou mock'st me; thou shalt buy this
deere,
If euer I thy face by day-light see.
Now goe thy way: faintnesse constraineth me,
To measure out my length on this cold bed,
By daies approach looke to be visited.
Enter Helena.
Hel. O weary night, O long and tedious night,
Abate thy houres, shine comforts from the East,
That I may backe to Athens by day-light,
From these that my poore companie detest;
And sleepe that sometime shuts vp sorrowes eie,
Steale me a while from mine owne companie.
Sleepe.
Rob. Yet but three? Come one more,
Two of both kindes makes vp foure.
Here she comes, curst and sad,
Cupid is a knauish lad,
Enter Hermia.
Thus to make poore females mad
Her. Neuer so wearie, neuer so in woe,
Bedabbled with the dew, and torne with briars,
I can no further crawle, no further goe;
My legs can keepe no pace with my desires.
Here will I rest me till the breake of day,
Heauens shield Lysander, if they meane a fray
Rob. On the ground sleepe sound,
Ile apply your eie gentle louer, remedy.
When thou wak'st, thou tak'st
True delight in the sight of thy former Ladies eye,
And the Country Prouerb knowne,
That euery man should take his owne,
In your waking shall be showne.
Iacke shall haue Iill, nought shall goe ill.
The man shall haue his Mare againe, and all shall bee
well.
They sleepe all the Act.
Actus Quartus.
Enter Queene of Fairies, and Clowne, and Fairies, and the King behinde them.
Tita. Come, sit thee downe vpon this flowry bed,
While I thy amiable cheekes doe coy,
And sticke muske roses in thy sleeke smoothe head,
And kisse thy faire large eares, my gentle ioy
Clow. Where's Peaseblossome?
Peas. Ready
Clow. Scratch my head, Pease-blossome. Wher's Mounsieuer
Cobweb
Cob. Ready
Clowne. Mounsieur Cobweb, good Mounsier get your weapons in your hand, & kill me a red hipt humble-Bee, on the top of a thistle; and good Mounsieur bring mee the hony bag. Doe not fret your selfe too much in the action, Mounsieur; and good mounsieur haue a care the hony bag breake not, I would be loth to haue you ouerflowne with a hony-bag signiour. Where's Mounsieur Mustardseed? Mus. Ready
Clo. Giue me your neafe, Mounsieur Mustardseed.
Pray you leaue your courtesie good Mounsieur
Mus. What's your will? Clo. Nothing good Mounsieur, but to help Caualery Cobweb to scratch. I must to the Barbers Mounsieur, for me-thinkes I am maruellous hairy about the face. And I am such a tender asse, if my haire do but tickle me, I must scratch
Tita. What, wilt thou heare some musicke, my sweet
loue
Clow. I haue a reasonable good eare in musicke. Let
vs haue the tongs and the bones.
Musicke Tongs, Rurall Musicke.
Tita. Or say sweete Loue, what thou desirest to eat
Clowne. Truly a pecke of Prouender; I could munch your good dry Oates. Me-thinkes I haue a great desire to a bottle of hay: good hay, sweete hay hath no fellow
Tita. I haue a venturous Fairy,
That shall seeke the Squirrels hoard,
And fetch thee new Nuts
Clown. I had rather haue a handfull or two of dried pease. But I pray you let none of your people stirre me, I haue an exposition of sleepe come vpon me
Tyta. Sleepe thou, and I will winde thee in my arms,
Fairies be gone, and be alwaies away.
So doth the woodbine, the sweet Honisuckle,
Gently entwist; the female Iuy so
Enrings the barky fingers of the Elme.
O how I loue thee! how I dote on thee!
Enter Robin goodfellow and Oberon.
Ob. Welcome good Robin:
Seest thou this sweet sight?
Her dotage now I doe begin to pitty.
For meeting her of late behinde the wood,
Seeking sweet sauours for this hatefull foole,
I did vpbraid her, and fall out with her.
For she his hairy temples then had rounded,
With coronet of fresh and fragrant flowers.
And that same dew which somtime on the buds,
Was wont to swell like round and orient pearles;
Stood now within the pretty flouriets eyes,
Like teares that did their owne disgrace bewaile.
When I had at my pleasure taunted her,
And she in milde termes beg'd my patience,
I then did aske of her, her changeling childe,
Which straight she gaue me, and her fairy sent
To beare him to my Bower in Fairy Land.
And now I haue the Boy, I will vndoe
This hatefull imperfection of her eyes.
And gentle Pucke, take this transformed scalpe,
From off the head of this Athenian swaine;
That he awaking when the other doe,
May all to Athens backe againe repaire,
And thinke no more of this nights accidents,
But as the fierce vexation of dreame.
But first I will release the Fairy Queene.
Be thou as thou wast wont to be;
See as thou wast wont to see.
Dians bud, or Cupids flower,
Hath such force and blessed power.
Now my Titania wake you my sweet Queene
Tita. My Oberon, what visions haue I seene!
Me-thought I was enamoured of an asse
Ob. There lies your loue
Tita. How came these things to passe?
Oh, how mine eyes doth loath this visage now!
Ob. Silence a while. Robin take off his head:
Titania, musick call, and strike more dead
Then common sleepe; of all these, fine the sense
Tita. Musicke, ho musicke, such as charmeth sleepe.
Musick still.
Rob. When thou wak'st, with thine owne fooles eies
peepe
Ob. Sound musick; come my Queen, take hands with me
And rocke the ground whereon these sleepers be.
Now thou and I new in amity,
And will to morrow midnight, solemnly
Dance in Duke Theseus house triumphantly,
And blesse it to all faire posterity.
There shall the paires of faithfull Louers be
Wedded, with Theseus, all in iollity
Rob. Faire King attend, and marke,
I doe heare the morning Larke,
Ob. Then my Queene in silence sad,
Trip we after the nights shade;
We the Globe can compasse soone,
Swifter then the wandering Moone
Tita. Come my Lord, and in our flight,
Tell me how it came this night,
That I sleeping heere was found,
Sleepers Lye still.
With these mortals on the ground.
Exeunt.
Winde Hornes.
Enter Theseus, Egeus, Hippolita and all his traine.
Thes. Goe one of you, finde out the Forrester,
For now our obseruation is perform'd;
And since we haue the vaward of the day,
My Loue shall heare the musicke of my hounds.
Vncouple in the Westerne valley, let them goe;
Dispatch I say, and finde the Forrester.
We will faire Queene, vp to the Mountains top,
And marke the musicall confusion
Of hounds and eccho in coniunction
Hip. I was with Hercules and Cadmus once.
When in a wood of Creete they bayed the Beare
With hounds of Sparta; neuer did I heare
Such gallant chiding. For besides the groues,
The skies, the fountaines, euery region neere,
Seeme all one mutuall cry. I neuer heard
So musicall a discord, such sweet thunder
Thes. My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kinde,
So flew'd, so sanded, and their heads are hung
With eares that sweepe away the morning dew,
Crooke kneed, and dew-lapt, like Thessalian Buls,
Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouth like bels,
Each vnder each. A cry more tuneable
Was neuer hallowed to, nor cheer'd with horne,
In Creete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly;
Iudge when you heare. But soft, what nimphs are these?
Egeus. My Lord, this is my daughter heere asleepe,
And this Lysander, this Demetrius is,
This Helena, olde Nedars Helena,
I wonder of this being heere together
The. No doubt they rose vp early, to obserue
The right of May; and hearing our intent,
Came heere in grace of our solemnity.
But speake Egeus, is not this the day
That Hermia should giue answer of her choice?
Egeus. It is, my Lord
Thes. Goe bid the hunts-men wake them with their
hornes.
Hornes and they wake.
Shout within, they all start vp.
Thes. Good morrow friends: Saint Valentine is past,
Begin these wood birds but to couple now?
Lys. Pardon my Lord
Thes. I pray you all stand vp.
I know you two are Riuall enemies.
How comes this gentle concord in the world,
That hatred is so farre from iealousie,
To sleepe by hate, and feare no enmity
Lys. My Lord, I shall reply amazedly,
Halfe sleepe, halfe waking. but as yet, I sweare,
I cannot truly say how I came heere.
But as I thinke (for truly would I speake)
And now I doe bethinke me, so it is;
I came with Hermia hither. Our intent
Was to be gone from Athens, where we might be
Without the perill of the Athenian Law
Ege. Enough, enough, my Lord: you haue enough;
I beg the Law, the Law, vpon his head:
They would have stolne away, they would Demetrius,
Thereby to haue defeated you and me:
You of your wife, and me of my consent;
Of my consent, that she should be your wife
Dem. My Lord, faire Helen told me of their stealth,
Of this their purpose hither, to this wood,
And I in furie hither followed them;
Faire Helena, in fancy followed me.
But my good Lord, I wot not by what not by what power,
(But by some power it is) my loue
To Hermia (melted as the snow)
Seems to me now as the remembrance of an idle gaude,
Which in my childehood I did doat vpon:
And all the faith, the vertue of my heart,
The obiect and the pleasure of mine eye,
Is onely Helena. To her, my Lord,
Was I betroth'd, ere I see Hermia,
But like a sickenesse did I loath this food,
But as in health, come to my naturall taste,
Now doe I wish it, loue it, long for it,
And will for euermore be true to it
Thes. Faire Louers, you are fortunately met;
Of this discourse we shall heare more anon.
Egeus, I will ouer-beare your will;
For in the Temple, by and by with vs,
These couples shall eternally be knit.
And for the morning now is something worne,
Our purpos'd hunting shall be set aside.
Away, with vs to Athens; three and three,
Wee'll hold a feast in great solemnitie.
Come Hippolita.
Exit Duke and Lords.
Dem. These things seeme small & vndistinguishable,
Like farre off mountaines turned into Clouds
Her. Me-thinks I see these things with parted eye,
When euery thing seemes double
Hel. So me-thinkes:
And I haue found Demetrius, like a iewell,
Mine owne, and not mine owne
Dem. It seemes to mee,
That yet we sleepe, we dreame. Do not you thinke,
The Duke was heere, and bid vs follow him?
Her. Yea, and my Father
Hel. And Hippolita
Lys. And he bid vs follow to the Temple
Dem. Why then we are awake; lets follow him, and by the way let vs recount our dreames.
Bottome wakes.
Exit Louers.
Clo. When my cue comes, call me, and I will answer. My next is, most faire Piramus. Hey ho. Peter Quince? Flute the bellowes-mender? Snout the tinker? Starueling? Gods my life! Stolne hence, and left me asleepe: I haue had a most rare vision. I had a dreame, past the wit of man, to say, what dreame it was. Man is but an Asse, if he goe about to expound this dreame. Me-thought I was, there is no man can tell what. Me-thought I was, and me-thought I had. But man is but a patch'd foole, if he will offer to say, what me-thought I had. The eye of man hath not heard, the eare of man hath not seen, mans hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceiue, nor his heart to report, what my dreame was. I will get Peter Quince to write a ballet of this dreame, it shall be called Bottomes Dreame, because it hath no bottome; and I will sing it in the latter end of a play, before the Duke. Peraduenture, to make it the more gracious, I shall sing it at her death. Enter.
Enter Quince, Flute, Thisbie, Snout, and Starueling.
Quin. Haue you sent to Bottomes house? Is he come
home yet?
Staru. He cannot be heard of. Out of doubt hee is
transported
This. If he come not, then the play is mar'd. It goes
not forward, doth it?
Quin. It is not possible: you haue not a man in all
Athens, able to discharge Piramus but he
This. No, hee hath simply the best wit of any handycraft
man in Athens
Quin. Yea, and the best person too, and hee is a very
Paramour, for a sweet voyce
This. You must say, Paragon. A Paramour is (God blesse vs) a thing of nought. Enter Snug the Ioyner.
Snug. Masters, the Duke is comming from the Temple, and there is two or three Lords & Ladies more married. If our sport had gone forward, we had all bin made men
This. O sweet bully Bottome: thus hath he lost sixepence a day, during his life; he could not haue scaped sixpence a day. And the Duke had not giuen him sixpence a day for playing Piramus, Ile be hang'd. He would haue deserued it. Sixpence a day in Piramus, or nothing. Enter Bottome.
Bot. Where are these Lads? Where are these hearts?
Quin. Bottome, o most couragious day! O most happie
houre!
Bot. Masters, I am to discourse wonders; but ask me
not what. For if I tell you, I am no true Athenian. I
will tell you euery thing as it fell out
Qu. Let vs heare, sweet Bottome
Bot. Not a word of me: all that I will tell you, is, that the Duke hath dined. Get your apparell together, good strings to your beards, new ribbands to your pumps, meete presently at the Palace, euery man looke ore his part: for the short and the long is, our play is preferred: In any case let Thisby haue cleane linnen: and let not him that playes the Lion, paire his nailes, for they shall hang out for the Lions clawes. And most deare Actors, eate no Onions, nor Garlicke; for wee are to vtter sweete breath, and I doe not doubt but to heare them say, it is a sweet Comedy. No more words: away, go away.
Exeunt.
Actus Quintus.
Enter Theseus, Hippolita, Egeus and his Lords.
Hip. 'Tis strange my Theseus, y these louers speake of
The. More strange then true. I neuer may beleeue
These anticke fables, nor these Fairy toyes,
Louers and mad men haue such seething braines,
Such shaping phantasies, that apprehend more
Then coole reason euer comprehends.
The Lunaticke, the Louer, and the Poet,
Are of imagination all compact.
One sees more diuels then vaste hell can hold;
That is the mad man. The Louer, all as franticke,
Sees Helens beauty in a brow of Egipt.
The Poets eye in a fine frenzy rolling, doth glance
From heauen to earth, from earth to heauen.
And as imagination bodies forth the forms of things
Vnknowne; the Poets pen turnes them to shapes,
And giues to aire nothing, a locall habitation,
And a name. Such tricks hath strong imagination,
That if it would but apprehend some ioy,
It comprehends some bringer of that ioy.
Or in the night, imagining some feare,
Howe easie is a bush suppos'd a Beare?
Hip. But all the storie of the night told ouer,
And all their minds transfigur'd so together,
More witnesseth than fancies images,
And growes to something of great constancie;
But howsoeuer, strange, and admirable.
Enter louers, Lysander, Demetrius, Hermia, and Helena.
The. Heere come the louers, full of ioy and mirth:
Ioy, gentle friends, ioy and fresh dayes
Of loue accompany your hearts
Lys. More then to vs, waite in your royall walkes,
your boord, your bed
The. Come now, what maskes, what dances shall
we haue,
To weare away this long age of three houres,
Between our after supper, and bed-time?
Where is our vsuall manager of mirth?
What Reuels are in hand? Is there no play,
To ease the anguish of a torturing houre?
Call Egeus
Ege. Heere mighty Theseus
The. Say, what abridgement haue you for this euening?
What maske? What musicke? How shall we beguile
The lazie time, if not with some delight?
Ege. There is a breefe how many sports are rife:
Make choise of which your Highnesse will see first
Lis. The battell with the Centaurs to be sung
By an Athenian Eunuch, to the Harpe
The. Wee'l none of that. That haue I told my Loue
In glory of my kinsman Hercules
Lis. The riot of the tipsie Bachanals,
Tearing the Thracian singer, in their rage?
The. That is an old deuice, and it was plaid
When I from Thebes came last a Conqueror
Lis. The thrice three Muses, mourning for the death
of learning, late deceast in beggerie
The. That is some Satire keene and criticall,
Not sorting with a nuptiall ceremonie
Lis. A tedious breefe Scene of yong Piramus,
And his loue Thisby; very tragicall mirth
The. Merry and tragicall? Tedious, and briefe? That
is, hot ice, and wondrous strange snow. How shall wee
finde the concord of this discord?
Ege. A play there is, my Lord, some ten words long,
Which is as breefe, as I haue knowne a play;
But by ten words, my Lord, it is too long;
Which makes it tedious. For in all the play,
There is not one word apt, one Player fitted.
And tragicall my noble Lord it is: for Piramus
Therein doth kill himselfe. Which when I saw
Rehearst, I must confesse, made mine eyes water:
But more merrie teares, the passion of loud laughter
Neuer shed
Thes. What are they that do play it?
Ege. Hard handed men, that worke in Athens heere,
Which neuer labour'd in their mindes till now;
And now haue toyled their vnbreathed memories
With this same play, against your nuptiall
The. And we will heare it
Hip. No my noble Lord, it is not for you. I haue heard
It ouer, and it is nothing, nothing in the world;
Vnless you can finde sport in their intents,
Extreamely stretched, and cond with cruell paine,
To doe you seruice
Thes. I will heare that play. For neuer any thing
Can be amisse, when simplenesse and duty tender it.
Goe bring them in, and take your places, Ladies
Hip. I loue not to see wretchednesse orecharged;
And duty in his seruice perishing
Thes. Why gentle sweet, you shall see no such thing
Hip. He saies, they can doe nothing in this kinde
Thes. The kinder we, to giue them thanks for nothing
Our sport shall be, to take what they mistake;
And what poore duty cannot doe, noble respect
Takes it in might, not merit.
Where I haue come, great Clearkes haue purposed
To greete me with premeditated welcomes;
Where I haue seene them shiuer and looke pale,
Make periods in the midst of sentences,
Throttle their practiz'd accent in their feares,
And in conclusion, dumbly haue broke off,
Not paying me a welcome. Trust me sweete,
Out of this silence yet, I pickt a welcome:
And in the modesty of fearefull duty,
I read as much, as from the ratling tongue
Of saucy and audacious eloquence.
Loue therefore, and tongue-tide simplicity,
In least, speake most, to my capacity
Egeus. So please your Grace, the Prologue is addrest
Duke. Let him approach.
Flor. Trum.
Enter the Prologue. Quince.
Pro. If we offend, it is with our good will.
That you should thinke, we come not to offend,
But with good will. To shew our simple skill,
That is the true beginning of our end.
Consider then, we come but in despight.
We do not come, as minding to content you,
Our true intent is. All for your delight,
We are not heere. That you should here repent you,
The Actors are at hand; and by their show,
You shall know all, that you are like to know
Thes. This fellow doth not stand vpon points
Lys. He hath rid his Prologue, like a rough Colt: he knowes not the stop. A good morall my lord. it is not enough to speake, but to speake true
Hip. Indeed hee hath plaid on his Prologue, like a
childe on a Recorder, a sound, but not in gouernment
Thes. His speech was like a tangled chaine: nothing
impaired, but all disordered. Who is next?
Tawyer with a Trumpet before them.
Enter Pyramus and Thisby, Wall, Moone-shine, and Lyon.
Prol. Gentles, perchance you wonder at this show,
But wonder on, till truth make all things plaine.
This man is Piramus, if you would know;
This beauteous Lady, Thisby is certaine.
This man, with lyme and rough-cast, doth present
Wall, that vile wall, which did these louers sunder:
And through walls chink (poor soules) they are content
To whisper. At the which, let no man wonder.
This man, with Lanthorne, dog, and bush of thorne,
Presenteth moone-shine. For if you will know,
By moone-shine did these Louers thinke no scorne
To meet at Ninus toombe, there, there to wooe:
This grizly beast (which Lyon hight by name)
The trusty Thisby, comming first by night,
Did scarre away, or rather did affright:
And as she fled, her mantle she did fall;
Which Lyon vile with bloody mouth did staine.
Anon comes Piramus, sweet youth and tall,
And findes his Thisbies Mantle slaine;
Whereat, with blade, with bloody blamefull blade,
He brauely broacht his boiling bloudy breast,
And Thisby, tarrying in Mulberry shade,
His dagger drew, and died. For all the rest,
Let Lyon, Moone-shine, Wall, and Louers twaine,
At large discourse, while here they doe remaine.
Exit all but Wall.
Thes. I wonder if the Lion be to speake
Deme. No wonder, my Lord: one Lion may, when many Asses doe.
Exit Lyon, Thisbie, and Mooneshine.
Wall. In this same Interlude, it doth befall,
That I, one Snowt (by name) present a wall:
And such a wall, as I would haue you thinke,
That had in it a crannied hole or chinke:
Through which the Louers, Piramus and Thisbie
Did whisper often, very secretly.
This loame, this rough-cast, and this stone doth shew,
That I am that same Wall; the truth is so.
And this the cranny is, right and sinister,
Through which the fearfull Louers are to whisper
Thes. Would you desire Lime and Haire to speake
better?
Deme. It is the wittiest partition, that euer I heard
discourse, my Lord
Thes. Pyramus drawes neere the Wall, silence.
Enter Pyramus.
Pir. O grim lookt night, o night with hue so blacke,
O night, which euer art, when day is not:
O night, o night, alacke, alacke, alacke,
I feare my Thisbies promise is forgot.
And thou o wall, thou sweet and louely wall,
That stands between her fathers ground and mine,
Thou wall, o Wall, o sweet and louely wall,
Shew me thy chinke, to blinke through with mine eine.
Thankes courteous wall. Ioue shield thee well for this.
But what see I? No Thisbie doe I see.
O wicked wall, through whom I see no blisse,
Curst be thy stones for thus deceiuing mee
Thes. The wall me-thinkes being sensible, should
curse againe
Pir. No in truth sir, he should not. Deceiuing me,
Is Thisbies cue; she is to enter, and I am to spy
Her through the wall. You shall see it will fall.
Enter Thisbie.
Pat as I told you; yonder she comes
This. O wall, full often hast thou heard my mones,
For parting my faire Piramus, and me
My cherry lips haue often kist thy stones;
Thy stones with Lime and Haire knit vp in thee
Pyra. I see a voyce; now will I to the chinke,
To spy and I can heare my Thisbies face. Thisbie?
This. My Loue thou art, my Loue I thinke
Pir. Thinke what thou wilt, I am thy Louers grace,
And like Limander am I trusty still
This. And like Helen till the Fates me kill
Pir. Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true
This. As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you
Pir. O kisse me through the hole of this vile wall
This. I kisse the wals hole, not your lips at all
Pir. Wilt thou at Ninnies tombe meete me straight
way?
This. Tide life, tide death, I come without delay
Wall. Thus haue I Wall, my part discharged so;
And being done, thus Wall away doth go.
Exit Clow.
Du. Now is the morall downe between the two
Neighbours
Dem. No remedie my Lord, when Wals are so wilfull,
to heare without warning
Dut. This is the silliest stuffe that ere I heard
Du. The best in this kind are but shadowes, and the worst are no worse, if imagination amend them
Dut. It must be your imagination then, & not theirs
Duk. If wee imagine no worse of them then they of themselues, they may passe for excellent men. Here com two noble beasts, in a man and a Lion. Enter Lyon and Moone-shine
Lyon. You Ladies, you (whose gentle harts do feare
The smallest monstrous mouse that creepes on floore)
May now perchance, both quake and tremble heere,
When Lion rough in wildest rage doth roare.
Then know that I, one Snug the Ioyner am
A Lion fell, nor else no Lions dam:
For if I should as Lion come in strife
Into this place, 'twere pittie of my life
Du. A verie gentle beast, and of good conscience
Dem. The verie best at a beast, my Lord, y ere I saw
Lis. This Lion is a verie Fox for his valor
Du. True, and a Goose for his discretion
Dem. Not so my Lord: for his valor cannot carrie his discretion, and the fox carries the Goose
Du. His discretion I am sure cannot carrie his valor: for the Goose carries not the Fox. It is well; leaue it to his discretion, and let vs hearken to the Moone
Moone. This Lanthorne doth the horned Moone present
De. He should haue worne the hornes on his head
Du. Hee is no crescent, and his hornes are inuisible,
within the circumference
Moon. This lanthorne doth the horned Moone present:
My selfe, the man i'th Moone doth seeme to be
Du. This is the greatest error of all the rest; the man
Should be put into the Lanthorne. How is it els the man
i'th Moone?
Dem. He dares not come there for the candle.
For you see, it is already in snuffe
Dut. I am wearie of this Moone; would he would
change
Du. It appeares by his smal light of discretion, that he is in the wane: but yet in courtesie, in all reason, we must stay the time
Lys. Proceed Moone
Moon. All that I haue to say, is to tell you, that the Lanthorne is the Moone; I, the man in the Moone; this thorne bush; my thorne bush; and this dog, my dog
Dem. Why all these should be in the Lanthorne: for they are in the Moone. But silence, heere comes Thisby. Enter Thisby.
This. This is old Ninnies tombe: where is my loue?
Lyon. Oh.
The Lion roares, Thisby runs off.
Dem. Well roar'd Lion
Du. Well run Thisby
Dut. Well shone Moone.
Truly the Moone shines with a good grace
Du. Wel mouz'd Lion
Dem. And then came Piramus
Lys. And so the Lion vanisht.
Enter Piramus.
Pyr. Sweet Moone, I thank thee for thy sunny beames,
I thanke thee Moone, for shining now so bright:
For by thy gracious, golden, glittering beames,
I trust to taste of truest Thisbies sight.
But stay: O spight! but marke, poore Knight,
What dreadful dole is heere?
Eyes do you see! How can it be!
O dainty Ducke: O Deere!
Thy mantle good; what staind with blood!
Approch you furies fell:
O Fates! come, come: Cut thred and thrum,
Quaile, crush, conclude, and quell
Du. This passion, and the death of a deare friend,
Would go neere to make a man looke sad
Dut. Beshrew my heart, but I pittie the man
Pir. O wherefore Nature, did'st thou Lions frame?
Since lion vilde hath heere deflour'd my deere:
Which is: no, no, which was the fairest Dame
That liu'd, that lou'd, that like'd, that look'd with cheere.
Come teares, confound: Out sword, and wound
The pap of Piramus:
I, that left pap, where heart doth hop;
Thus dye I, thus, thus, thus.
Now am I dead, now am I fled, my soule is in the sky,
Tongue lose thy light, Moone take thy flight,
Now dye, dye, dye, dye, dye
Dem. No Die, but an ace for him; for he is but one
Lis. Lesse then an ace man. For he is dead, he is nothing
Du. With the helpe of a Surgeon, he might yet recouer,
and proue an Asse
Dut. How chance Moone-shine is gone before?
Thisby comes backe, and findes her Louer.
Enter Thisby.
Duke. She wil finde him by starre-light.
Heere she comes, and her passion ends the play
Dut. Me thinkes shee should not vse a long one for
such a Piramus: I hope she will be breefe
Dem. A Moth wil turne the ballance, which Piramus
which Thisby is the better
Lys. She hath spyed him already, with those sweete eyes
Dem. And thus she meanes, videlicit
This. Asleepe my Loue? What, dead my Doue?
O Piramus arise:
Speake, speake. Quite dumbe? Dead, dead? A tombe
Must couer thy sweet eyes.
These Lilly Lips, this cherry nose,
These yellow Cowslip cheekes
Are gone, are gone: Louers make mone:
His eyes were greene as Leekes.
O Sisters three, come, come to mee,
With hands as pale as Milke,
Lay them in gore, since you haue shore
with sheeres, his thred of silke.
Tongue not a word: Come trusty sword:
Come blade, my brest imbrue:
And farwell friends, thus Thisbie ends;
Adieu, adieu, adieu
Duk. Moone-shine & Lion are left to burie the dead
Deme. I, and Wall too
Bot. No, I assure you, the wall is downe, that parted their Fathers. Will it please you to see the Epilogue, or to heare a Bergomask dance, betweene two of our company? Duk. No Epilogue, I pray you; for your play needs no excuse. Neuer excuse; for when the plaiers are all dead, there need none to be blamed. Marry, if hee that writ it had plaid Piramus, and hung himselfe in Thisbies garter, it would haue beene a fine Tragedy: and so it is truely, and very notably discharg'd. but come, your Burgomaske; let your Epilogue alone. The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelue. Louers to bed, 'tis almost Fairy time. I feare we shall out-sleepe the comming morne, As much as we this night haue ouer-watcht. This palpable grosse play hath well beguil'd The heauy gate of night. Sweet friends to bed. A fortnight hold we this solemnity. In nightly Reuels; and new iollitie.
Exeunt.
Enter Pucke.
Puck. Now the hungry Lyons rores,
And the Wolfe beholds the Moone:
Whilest the heauy ploughman snores,
All with weary taske fore-done.
Now the wasted brands doe glow,
Whil'st the scritch-owle, scritching loud,
Puts the wretch that lies in woe,
In remembrance of a shrowd.
Now it is the time of night,
That the graues, all gaping wide,
Euery one lets forth his spright,
In the Church-way paths to glide,
And we Fairies, that do runne,
By the triple Hecates teame,
From the presence of the Sunne,
Following darkenesse like a dreame,
Now are frollicke; not a Mouse
Shall disturbe this hallowed house.
I am sent with broome before,
To sweep the dust behinde the doore.
Enter King and Queene of Fairies, with their traine.
Ob. Through the house giue glimmering light,
By the dead and drowsie fier,
Euerie Elfe and Fairie spright,
Hop as light as bird from brier,
And this Ditty after me, sing and dance it trippinglie,
Tita. First rehearse this song by roate,
To each word a warbling note.
Hand in hand, with Fairie grace,
Will we sing and blesse this place.
The Song.
Now vntill the breake of day,
Through this house each Fairy stray.
To the best Bride-bed will we,
Which by vs shall blessed be:
And the issue there create,
Euer shall be fortunate:
So shall all the couples three,
Euer true in louing be:
And the blots of Natures hand,
Shall not in their issue stand.
Neuer mole, harelip, nor scarre,
nor mark prodigious, such as are
Despised in Natiuitie,
Shall vpon their children be.
With this field dew consecrate,
Euery Fairy take his gate,
And each seuerall chamber blesse,
Through this Pallace with sweet peace,
Euer shall in safety rest.
And the owner of it blest.
Trip away, make no stay;
Meet me all by breake of day
Robin. If we shadowes haue offended,
Thinke but this (and all is mended)
That you haue but slumbred heere,
While these Visions did appeare.
And this weake and idle theame,
No more yeelding but a dreame,
Gentles, doe not reprehend.
If you pardon, we will mend.
And as I am an honest Pucke,
If we haue vnearned lucke,
Now to scape the Serpents tongue,
We will make amends ere long:
Else the Pucke a lyar call.
So good night vnto you all.
Giue me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends.
FINIS. A MIDSOMMER Nights Dreame.
The Merchant of Venice
Actus primus.
Enter Anthonio, Salarino, and Salanio.
Anthonio. In sooth I know not why I am so sad,
It wearies me: you say it wearies you;
But how I caught it, found it, or came by it,
What stuffe 'tis made of, whereof it is borne,
I am to learne: and such a Want-wit sadnesse makes of
mee,
That I haue much ado to know my selfe
Sal. Your minde is tossing on the Ocean,
There where your Argosies with portly saile
Like Signiors and rich Burgers on the flood,
Or as it were the Pageants of the sea,
Do ouer-peere the pettie Traffiquers
That curtsie to them, do them reuerence
As they flye by them with their wouen wings
Salar. Beleeue me sir, had I such venture forth,
The better part of my affections, would
Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still
Plucking the grasse to know where sits the winde,
Peering in Maps for ports, and peers, and rodes:
And euery obiect that might make me feare
Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt
Would make me sad
Sal. My winde cooling my broth,
Would blow me to an Ague, when I thought
What harme a winde too great might doe at sea.
I should not see the sandie houre-glasse runne,
But I should thinke of shallows, and of flats,
And see my wealthy Andrew docks in sand,
Vailing her high top lower then her ribs
To kisse her buriall; should I goe to Church
And see the holy edifice of stone,
And not bethinke me straight of dangerous rocks,
Which touching but my gentle Vessels side
Would scatter all her spices on the streame,
Enrobe the roring waters with my silkes,
And in a word, but euen now worth this,
And now worth nothing. Shall I haue the thought
To thinke on this, and shall I lacke the thought
That such a thing bechaunc'd would make me sad?
But tell me, I know Anthonio
Is sad to thinke vpon his merchandize
Anth. Beleeue me no, I thanke my fortune for it,
My ventures are not in one bottome trusted,
Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate
Vpon the fortune of this present yeere:
Therefore my merchandize makes me not sad
Sola. Why then you are in loue
Anth. Fie, fie
Sola. Not in loue neither: then let vs say you are sad
Because you are not merry: and 'twere as easie
For you to laugh and leape, and say you are merry
Because you are not sad. Now by two-headed Ianus,
Nature hath fram'd strange fellowes in her time:
Some that will euermore peepe through their eyes,
And laugh like Parrats at a bag-piper.
And other of such vineger aspect,
That they'll not shew their teeth in way of smile,
Though Nestor sweare the iest be laughable.
Enter Bassanio, Lorenso, and Gratiano.
Sola. Heere comes Bassanio,
Your most noble Kinsman,
Gratiano, and Lorenso. Faryewell,
We leaue you now with better company
Sala. I would haue staid till I had made you merry,
If worthier friends had not preuented me
Ant. Your worth is very deere in my regard.
I take it your owne busines calls on you,
And you embrace th' occasion to depart
Sal. Good morrow my good Lords
Bass. Good signiors both, when shall we laugh? say, when?
You grow exceeding strange: must it be so?
Sal. Wee'll make our leysures to attend on yours.
Exeunt. Salarino, and Solanio.
Lor. My Lord Bassanio, since you haue found Anthonio
We two will leaue you, but at dinner time
I pray you haue in minde where we must meete
Bass. I will not faile you
Grat. You looke not well signior Anthonio,
You haue too much respect vpon the world:
They loose it that doe buy it with much care,
Beleeue me you are maruellously chang'd
Ant. I hold the world but as the world Gratiano,
A stage, where euery man must play a part,
And mine a sad one
Grati. Let me play the foole,
With mirth and laughter let old wrinckles come,
And let my Liuer rather heate with wine,
Then my heart coole with mortifying grones.
Why should a man whose bloud is warme within,
Sit like his Grandsire, cut in Alablaster?
Sleepe when he wakes? and creep into the Iaundies
By being peeuish? I tell thee what Anthonio,
I loue thee, and it is my loue that speakes:
There are a sort of men, whose visages
Do creame and mantle like a standing pond,
And do a wilfull stilnesse entertaine,
With purpose to be drest in an opinion
Of wisedome, grauity, profound conceit,
As who should say, I am sir an Oracle,
And when I ope my lips, let no dogge barke.
O my Anthonio, I do know of these
That therefore onely are reputed wise,
For saying nothing; when I am verie sure
If they should speake, would almost dam those eares
Which hearing them would call their brothers fooles:
Ile tell thee more of this another time.
But fish not with this melancholly baite
For this foole Gudgin, this opinion:
Come good Lorenzo, faryewell a while,
Ile end my exhortation after dinner
Lor. Well, we will leaue you then till dinner time.
I must be one of these same dumbe wise men.
For Gratiano neuer let's me speake
Gra. Well, keepe me company but two yeares mo,
Thou shalt not know the sound of thine owne tongue
Ant. Far you well, Ile grow a talker for this geare
Gra. Thankes ifaith, for silence is onely commendable
In a neats tongue dri'd, and a maid not vendible.
Enter.
Ant. It is that any thing now
Bas. Gratiano speakes an infinite deale of nothing, more then any man in all Venice, his reasons are two graines of wheate hid in two bushels of chaffe: you shall seeke all day ere you finde them, & when you haue them they are not worth the search
An. Well: tel me now, what Lady is the same
To whom you swore a secret Pilgrimage
That you to day promis'd to tel me of?
Bas. Tis not vnknowne to you Anthonio
How much I haue disabled mine estate,
By something shewing a more swelling port
Then my faint meanes would grant continuance:
Nor do I now make mone to be abridg'd
From such a noble rate, but my cheefe care
Is to come fairely off from the great debts
Wherein my time something too prodigall
Hath left me gag'd: to you Anthonio
I owe the most in money, and in loue,
And from your loue I haue a warrantie
To vnburthen all my plots and purposes,
How to get cleere of all the debts I owe
An. I pray you good Bassanio let me know it,
And if it stand as you your selfe still do,
Within the eye of honour, be assur'd
My purse, my person, my extreamest meanes
Lye all vnlock'd to your occasions
Bass. In my schoole dayes, when I had lost one shaft
I shot his fellow of the selfesame flight
The selfesame way, with more aduised watch
To finde the other forth, and by aduenturing both,
I oft found both. I vrge this child-hoode proofe,
Because what followes is pure innocence.
I owe you much, and like a wilfull youth,
That which I owe is lost: but if you please
To shoote another arrow that selfe way
Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt,
As I will watch the ayme: Or to finde both,
Or bring your latter hazard backe againe,
And thankfully rest debter for the first
An. You know me well, and herein spend but time
To winde about my loue with circumstance,
And out of doubt you doe more wrong
In making question of my vttermost
Then if you had made waste of all I haue:
Then doe but say to me what I should doe
That in your knowledge may by me be done,
And I am prest vnto it: therefore speake
Bass. In Belmont is a Lady richly left,
And she is faire, and fairer then that word,
Of wondrous vertues, sometimes from her eyes
I did receiue faire speechlesse messages:
Her name is Portia, nothing vndervallewd
To Cato's daughter, Brutus Portia,
Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth,
For the four windes blow in from euery coast
Renowned sutors, and her sunny locks
Hang on her temples like a golden fleece,
Which makes her seat of Belmont Cholchos strond,
And many Iasons come in quest of her.
O my Anthonio, had I but the meanes
To hold a riuall place with one of them,
I haue a minde presages me such thrift,
That I should questionlesse be fortunate
Anth. Thou knowst that all my fortunes are at sea,
Neither haue I money, nor commodity
To raise a present summe, therefore goe forth
Try what my credit can in Venice doe,
That shall be rackt euen to the vttermost,
To furnish thee to Belmont to faire Portia.
Goe presently enquire, and so will I
Where money is, and I no question make
To haue it of my trust, or for my sake.
Exeunt.
Enter Portia with her waiting woman Nerissa.
Portia. By my troth Nerrissa, my little body is a wearie of this great world
Ner. You would be sweet Madam, if your miseries were in the same abundance as your good fortunes are: and yet for ought I see, they are as sicke that surfet with too much, as they that starue with nothing; it is no smal happinesse therefore to bee seated in the meane, superfluitie comes sooner by white haires, but competencie liues longer
Portia. Good sentences, and well pronounc'd
Ner. They would be better if well followed
Portia. If to doe were as easie as to know what were good to doe, Chappels had beene Churches, and poore mens cottages Princes Pallaces: it is a good Diuine that followes his owne instructions; I can easier teach twentie what were good to be done, then be one of the twentie to follow mine owne teaching: the braine may deuise lawes for the blood, but a hot temper leapes ore a colde decree, such a hare is madnesse the youth, to skip ore the meshes of good counsaile the cripple; but this reason is not in fashion to choose me a husband: O mee, the word choose, I may neither choose whom I would, nor refuse whom I dislike, so is the wil of a liuing daughter curb'd by the will of a dead father: it is not hard Nerrissa, that I cannot choose one, nor refuse none
Ner. Your father was euer vertuous, and holy men at their death haue good inspirations, therefore the lotterie that hee hath deuised in these three chests of gold, siluer, and leade, whereof who chooses his meaning, chooses you, wil no doubt neuer be chosen by any rightly, but one who you shall rightly loue: but what warmth is there in your affection towards any of these Princely suters that are already come? Por. I pray thee ouer-name them, and as thou namest them, I will describe them, and according to my description leuell at my affection
Ner. First there is the Neopolitane Prince
Por. I that's a colt indeede, for he doth nothing but talke of his horse, and hee makes it a great appropriation to his owne good parts that he can shoo him himselfe: I am much afraid my Ladie his mother plaid false with a Smyth
Ner. Than is there the Countie Palentine
Por. He doth nothing but frowne (as who should say, and you will not haue me, choose: he heares merrie tales and smiles not, I feare hee will proue the weeping Phylosopher when he growes old, being so full of vnmannerly sadnesse in his youth.) I had rather to be married to a deaths head with a bone in his mouth, then to either of these: God defend me from these two
Ner. How say you by the French Lord, Mounsier Le Boune? Por. God made him, and therefore let him passe for a man, in truth I know it is a sinne to be a mocker, but he, why he hath a horse better then the Neopolitans, a better bad habite of frowning then the Count Palentine, he is euery man in no man, if a Trassell sing, he fals straight a capring, he will fence with his owne shadow. If I should marry him, I should marry twentie husbands: if hee would despise me, I would forgiue him, for if he loue me to madnesse, I should neuer requite him
Ner. What say you then to Fauconbridge, the yong Baron of England? Por. You know I say nothing to him, for hee vnderstands not me, nor I him: he hath neither Latine, French, nor Italian, and you will come into the Court & sweare that I haue a poore pennie-worth in the English: hee is a proper mans picture, but alas who can conuerse with a dumbe show? how odly he is suited, I thinke he bought his doublet in Italie, his round hose in France, his bonnet in Germanie, and his behauiour euery where
Ner. What thinke you of the other Lord his neighbour? Por. That he hath a neighbourly charitie in him, for he borrowed a boxe of the eare of the Englishman, and swore he would pay him againe when hee was able: I thinke the Frenchman became his suretie, and seald vnder for another
Ner. How like you the yong Germaine, the Duke of Saxonies Nephew? Por. Very vildely in the morning when hee is sober, and most vildely in the afternoone when hee is drunke: when he is best, he is a little worse then a man, and when he is worst, he is little better then a beast: and the worst fall that euer fell, I hope I shall make shift to go without him
Ner. If he should offer to choose, and choose the right Casket, you should refuse to performe your Fathers will, if you should refuse to accept him
Por. Therefore for feare of the worst, I pray thee set a deepe glasse of Reinish-wine on the contrary Casket, for if the diuell be within, and that temptation without, I know he will choose it. I will doe any thing Nerrissa ere I will be married to a spunge
Ner. You neede not feare Lady the hauing any of these Lords, they haue acquainted me with their determinations, which is indeede to returne to their home, and to trouble you with no more suite, vnlesse you may be won by some other sort then your Fathers imposition, depending on the Caskets
Por. If I liue to be as olde as Sibilla, I will dye as chaste as Diana: vnlesse I be obtained by the manner of my Fathers will: I am glad this parcell of wooers are so reasonable, for there is not one among them but I doate on his verie absence: and I wish them a faire departure
Ner. Doe you not remember Ladie in your Fathers time, a Venecian, a Scholler and a Souldior that came hither in companie of the Marquesse of Mountferrat? Por. Yes, yes, it was Bassanio, as I thinke, so was hee call'd
Ner. True Madam, hee of all the men that euer my foolish eyes look'd vpon, was the best deseruing a faire Lady
Por. I remember him well, and I remember him worthy
of thy praise.
Enter a Seruingman.
Ser. The four Strangers seeke you Madam to take their leaue: and there is a fore-runner come from a fift, the Prince of Moroco, who brings word the Prince his Maister will be here to night
Por. If I could bid the fift welcome with so good heart as I can bid the other foure farewell, I should be glad of his approach: if he haue the condition of a Saint, and the complexion of a diuell, I had rather hee should shriue me then wiue me. Come Nerrissa, sirra go before; whiles wee shut the gate vpon one wooer, another knocks at the doore.
Exeunt.
Enter Bassanio with Shylocke the Iew.
Shy. Three thousand ducates, well
Bass. I sir, for three months
Shy. For three months, well
Bass. For the which, as I told you,
Anthonio shall be bound
Shy. Anthonio shall become bound, well
Bass. May you sted me? Will you pleasure me?
Shall I know your answere
Shy. Three thousand ducats for three months,
and Anthonio bound
Bass. Your answere to that
Shy. Anthonio is a good man
Bass. Haue you heard any imputation to the contrary
Shy. Ho no, no, no, no: my meaning in saying he is a good man, is to haue you vnderstand me that he is sufficient, yet his meanes are in supposition: he hath an Argosie bound to Tripolis, another to the Indies, I vnderstand moreouer vpon the Ryalta, he hath a third at Mexico, a fourth for England, and other ventures hee hath squandred abroad, but ships are but boords, Saylers but men, there be land rats, and water rats, water theeues, and land theeues, I meane Pyrats, and then there is the perrill of waters, windes, and rocks: the man is not withstanding sufficient, three thousand ducats, I thinke I may take his bond
Bas. Be assured you may
Iew. I will be assured I may: and that I may be assured,
I will bethinke mee, may I speake with Anthonio?
Bass. If it please you to dine with vs
Iew. Yes, to smell porke, to eate of the habitation which your Prophet the Nazarite coniured the diuell into: I will buy with you, sell with you, talke with you, walke with you, and so following: but I will not eate with you, drinke with you, nor pray with you. What newes on the Ryalta, who is he comes here? Enter Anthonio.
Bass. This is signior Anthonio
Iew. How like a fawning publican he lookes.
I hate him for he is a Christian:
But more, for that in low simplicitie
He lends out money gratis, and brings downe
The rate of vsance here with vs in Venice.
If I can catch him once vpon the hip,
I will feede fat the ancient grudge I beare him.
He hates our sacred Nation, and he railes
Euen there where Merchants most doe congregate
On me, my bargaines, and my well-worne thrift,
Which he cals interrest: Cursed by my Trybe
If I forgiue him
Bass. Shylock, doe you heare
Shy. I am debating of my present store,
And by the neere gesse of my memorie
I cannot instantly raise vp the grosse
Of full three thousand ducats: what of that?
Tuball a wealthy Hebrew of my Tribe
Will furnish me: but soft, how many months
Doe you desire? Rest you faire good signior,
Your worship was the last man in our mouthes
Ant. Shylocke, albeit I neither lend nor borrow
By taking, nor by giuing of excesse,
Yet to supply the ripe wants of my friend,
Ile breake a custome: is he yet possest
How much he would?
Shy. I, I, three thousand ducats
Ant. And for three months
Shy. I had forgot, three months, you told me so.
Well then, your bond: and let me see, but heare you,
Me thoughts you said, you neither lend nor borrow
Vpon aduantage
Ant. I doe neuer vse it
Shy. When Iacob graz'd his vncle Labans sheepe,
This Iacob from our holy Abram was
(As his wise mother wrought in his behalfe)
The third possesser; I, he was the third
Ant. And what of him, did he take interrest?
Shy. No, not take interest, not as you would say
Directly interest, marke what Iacob did,
When Laban and himselfe were compremyz'd
That all the eanelings which were streakt and pied
Should fall as Iacobs hier, the Ewes being rancke,
In end of Autumne turned to the Rammes,
And when the worke of generation was
Betweene these woolly breeders in the act,
The skilfull shepheard pil'd me certaine wands,
And in the dooing of the deede of kinde,
He stucke them vp before the fulsome Ewes,
Who then conceauing, did in eaning time
Fall party-colour'd lambs, and those were Iacobs.
This was a way to thriue, and he was blest:
And thrift is blessing if men steale it not
Ant. This was a venture sir that Iacob seru'd for,
A thing not in his power to bring to passe,
But sway'd and fashion'd by the hand of heauen.
Was this inserted to make interrest good?
Or is your gold and siluer Ewes and Rams?
Shy. I cannot tell, I make it breede as fast,
But note me signior
Ant. Marke you this Bassanio,
The diuell can cite Scripture for his purpose,
An euill soule producing holy witnesse,
Is like a villaine with a smiling cheeke,
A goodly apple rotten at the heart.
O what a goodly outside falsehood hath
Shy. Three thousand ducats, 'tis a good round sum.
Three months from twelue, then let me see the rate
Ant. Well Shylocke, shall we be beholding to you?
Shy. Signior Anthonio, many a time and oft
In the Ryalto you haue rated me
About my monies and my vsances:
Still haue I borne it with a patient shrug,
(For suffrance is the badge of all our Tribe.)
You call me misbeleeuer, cut-throate dog,
And spet vpon my Iewish gaberdine,
And all for vse of that which is mine owne.
Well then, it now appeares you neede my helpe:
Goe to then, you come to me, and you say,
Shylocke, we would haue moneyes, you say so:
You that did voide your rume vpon my beard,
And foote me as you spurne a stranger curre
Ouer your threshold, moneyes is your suite.
What should I say to you? Should I not say,
Hath a dog money? Is it possible
A curre should lend three thousand ducats? or
Shall I bend low, and in a bond-mans key
With bated breath, and whispring humblenesse,
Say this: Faire sir, you spet on me on Wednesday last;
You spurn'd me such a day; another time
You cald me dog: and for these curtesies
Ile lend you thus much moneyes
Ant. I am as like to call thee so againe,
To spet on thee againe, to spurne thee too.
If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not
As to thy friends, for when did friendship take
A breede of barraine mettall of his friend?
But lend it rather to thine enemie,
Who if he breake, thou maist with better face
Exact the penalties
Shy. Why looke you how you storme,
I would be friends with you, and haue your loue,
Forget the shames that you haue staind me with,
Supplie your present wants, and take no doite
Of vsance for my moneyes, and youle not heare me,
This is kinde I offer
Bass. This were kindnesse
Shy. This kindnesse will I showe,
Goe with me to a Notarie, seale me there
Your single bond, and in a merrie sport
If you repaie me not on such a day,
In such a place, such sum or sums as are
Exprest in the condition, let the forfeite
Be nominated for an equall pound
Of your faire flesh, to be cut off and taken
In what part of your bodie it pleaseth me
Ant. Content infaith, Ile seale to such a bond,
And say there is much kindnesse in the Iew
Bass. You shall not seale to such a bond for me,
Ile rather dwell in my necessitie
Ant. Why feare not man, I will not forfaite it,
Within these two months, that's a month before
This bond expires, I doe expect returne
Of thrice three times the valew of this bond
Shy. O father Abram, what these Christians are,
Whose owne hard dealings teaches them suspect
The thoughts of others: Praie you tell me this,
If he should breake his daie, what should I gaine
By the exaction of the forfeiture?
A pound of mans flesh taken from a man,
Is not so estimable, profitable neither
As flesh of Muttons, Beefes, or Goates, I say
To buy his fauour, I extend this friendship,
If he will take it, so: if not adiew,
And for my loue I praie you wrong me not
Ant. Yes Shylocke, I will seale vnto this bond
Shy. Then meete me forthwith at the Notaries,
Giue him direction for this merrie bond,
And I will goe and purse the ducats straite.
See to my house left in the fearefull gard
Of an vnthriftie knaue: and presentlie
Ile be with you.
Enter.
Ant. Hie thee gentle Iew. This Hebrew will turne
Christian, he growes kinde
Bass. I like not faire tearmes, and a villaines minde
Ant. Come on, in this there can be no dismaie,
My Shippes come home a month before the daie.
Exeunt.
Actus Secundus.
Enter Morochus a tawnie Moore all in white, and three or foure followers accordingly, with Portia, Nerrissa, and their traine. Flo. Cornets.
Mor. Mislike me not for my complexion,
The shadowed liuerie of the burnisht sunne,
To whom I am a neighbour, and neere bred.
Bring me the fairest creature North-ward borne,
Where Phoebus fire scarce thawes the ysicles,
And let vs make incision for your loue,
To proue whose blood is reddest, his or mine.
I tell thee Ladie this aspect of mine
Hath feard the valiant, (by my loue I sweare)
The best regarded Virgins of our Clyme
Haue lou'd it to: I would not change this hue,
Except to steale your thoughts my gentle Queene
Por. In tearmes of choise I am not solie led
By nice direction of a maidens eies:
Besides, the lottrie of my destenie
Bars me the right of voluntarie choosing:
But if my Father had not scanted me,
And hedg'd me by his wit to yeelde my selfe
His wife, who wins me by that meanes I told you,
Your selfe (renowned Prince) than stood as faire
As any commer I haue look'd on yet
For my affection
Mor. Euen for that I thanke you,
Therefore I pray you leade me to the Caskets
To trie my fortune: By this Symitare
That slew the Sophie, and a Persian Prince
That won three fields of Sultan Solyman,
I would ore-stare the sternest eies that looke:
Out-braue the heart most daring on the earth:
Plucke the yong sucking Cubs from the she Beare,
Yea, mocke the Lion when he rores for pray
To win the Ladie. But alas, the while
If Hercules and Lychas plaie at dice
Which is the better man, the greater throw
May turne by fortune from the weaker hand:
So is Alcides beaten by his rage,
And so may I, blinde fortune leading me
Misse that which one vnworthier may attaine,
And die with grieuing
Port. You must take your chance,
And either not attempt to choose at all,
Or sweare before you choose, if you choose wrong
Neuer to speake to Ladie afterward
In way of marriage, therefore be aduis'd
Mor. Nor will not, come bring me vnto my chance
Por. First forward to the temple, after dinner
Your hazard shall be made
Mor. Good fortune then,
Cornets.
To make me blest or cursed'st among men.
Exeunt.
Enter the Clowne alone.
Clo. Certainely, my conscience will serue me to run from this Iew my Maister: the fiend is at mine elbow, and tempts me, saying to me, Iobbe, Launcelet Iobbe, good Launcelet, or good Iobbe, or good Launcelet Iobbe, vse your legs, take the start, run awaie: my conscience saies no; take heede honest Launcelet, take heed honest Iobbe, or as afore-said honest Launcelet Iobbe, doe not runne, scorne running with thy heeles; well, the most coragious fiend bids me packe, fia saies the fiend, away saies the fiend, for the heauens rouse vp a braue minde saies the fiend, and run; well, my conscience hanging about the necke of my heart, saies verie wisely to me: my honest friend Launcelet, being an honest mans sonne, or rather an honest womans sonne, for indeede my Father did something smack, something grow too; he had a kinde of taste; wel, my conscience saies Lancelet bouge not, bouge saies the fiend, bouge not saies my conscience, conscience say I you counsaile well, fiend say I you counsaile well, to be rul'd by my conscience I should stay with the Iew my Maister, (who God blesse the marke) is a kinde of diuell; and to run away from the Iew I should be ruled by the fiend, who sauing your reuerence is the diuell himselfe: certainely the Iew is the verie diuell incarnation, and in my conscience, my conscience is a kinde of hard conscience, to offer to counsaile me to stay with the Iew; the fiend giues the more friendly counsaile: I will runne fiend, my heeles are at your commandement, I will runne. Enter old Gobbe with a Basket.
Gob. Maister yong-man, you I praie you, which is the waie to Maister Iewes? Lan. O heauens, this is my true begotten Father, who being more then sand-blinde, high grauel blinde, knows me not, I will trie confusions with him
Gob. Maister yong Gentleman, I praie you which is the waie to Maister Iewes
Laun. Turne vpon your right hand at the next turning, but at the next turning of all on your left; marrie at the verie next turning, turne of no hand, but turn down indirectlie to the Iewes house
Gob. Be Gods sonties 'twill be a hard waie to hit, can you tell me whether one Launcelet that dwels with him dwell with him or no
Laun. Talke you of yong Master Launcelet, marke me now, now will I raise the waters; talke you of yong Maister Launcelet? Gob. No Maister sir, but a poore mans sonne, his Father though I say't is an honest exceeding poore man, and God be thanked well to liue
Lan. Well, let his Father be what a will, wee talke of yong Maister Launcelet
Gob. Your worships friend and Launcelet
Laun. But I praie you ergo old man, ergo I beseech you, talke you of yong Maister Launcelet
Gob. Of Launcelet, ant please your maistership
Lan. Ergo Maister Lancelet, talke not of maister Lancelet Father, for the yong gentleman according to fates and destinies, and such odde sayings, the sisters three, & such branches of learning, is indeede deceased, or as you would say in plaine tearmes, gone to heauen
Gob. Marrie God forbid, the boy was the verie staffe
of my age, my verie prop
Lau. Do I look like a cudgell or a houell-post, a staffe
or a prop: doe you know me Father
Gob. Alacke the day, I know you not yong Gentleman, but I praie you tell me, is my boy God rest his soule aliue or dead
Lan. Doe you not know me Father
Gob. Alacke sir I am sand blinde, I know you not
Lan. Nay, indeede if you had your eies you might faile of the knowing me: it is a wise Father that knowes his owne childe. Well, old man, I will tell you newes of your son, giue me your blessing, truth will come to light, murder cannot be hid long, a mans sonne may, but in the end truth will out
Gob. Praie you sir stand vp, I am sure you are not
Lancelet my boy
Lan. Praie you let's haue no more fooling about it, but giue mee your blessing: I am Lancelet your boy that was, your sonne that is, your childe that shall be
Gob. I cannot thinke you are my sonne
Lan. I know not what I shall thinke of that: but I am Lancelet the Iewes man, and I am sure Margerie your wife is my mother
Gob. Her name is Margerie indeede, Ile be sworne if thou be Lancelet, thou art mine owne flesh and blood: Lord worshipt might he be, what a beard hast thou got; thou hast got more haire on thy chin, then Dobbin my philhorse has on his taile
Lan. It should seeme then that Dobbins taile growes backeward. I am sure he had more haire of his taile then I haue of my face when I last saw him
Gob. Lord how art thou chang'd: how doost thou and thy Master agree, I haue brought him a present; how gree you now? Lan. Well, well, but for mine owne part, as I haue set vp my rest to run awaie, so I will not rest till I haue run some ground; my Maister's a verie Iew, giue him a present, giue him a halter, I am famisht in his seruice. You may tell euerie finger I haue with my ribs: Father I am glad you are come, giue me your present to one Maister Bassanio, who indeede giues rare new Liuories, if I serue not him, I will run as far as God has anie ground. O rare fortune, here comes the man, to him Father, for I am a Iew if I serue the Iew anie longer. Enter Bassanio with a follower or two.
Bass. You may doe so, but let it be so hasted that supper be readie at the farthest by fiue of the clocke: see these Letters deliuered, put the Liueries to making, and desire Gratiano to come anone to my lodging
Lan. To him Father
Gob. God blesse your worship
Bass. Gramercie, would'st thou ought with me
Gob. Here's my sonne sir, a poore boy
Lan. Not a poore boy sir, but the rich Iewes man that
would sir as my Father shall specifie
Gob. He hath a great infection sir, as one would say
to serue
Lan. Indeede the short and the long is, I serue the
Iew, and haue a desire as my Father shall specifie
Gob. His Maister and he (sauing your worships reuerence)
are scarce catercosins
Lan. To be briefe, the verie truth is, that the Iew hauing done me wrong, doth cause me as my Father being I hope an old man shall frutifie vnto you
Gob. I haue here a dish of Doues that I would bestow vpon your worship, and my suite is
Lan. In verie briefe, the suite is impertinent to my selfe, as your worship shall know by this honest old man, and though I say it, though old man, yet poore man my Father
Bass. One speake for both, what would you?
Lan. Serue you sir
Gob. That is the verie defect of the matter sir
Bass. I know thee well, thou hast obtain'd thy suite,
Shylocke thy Maister spoke with me this daie,
And hath prefer'd thee, if it be preferment
To leaue a rich Iewes seruice, to become
The follower of so poore a Gentleman
Clo. The old prouerbe is verie well parted betweene my Maister Shylocke and you sir, you haue the grace of God sir, and he hath enough
Bass. Thou speak'st well; go Father with thy Son,
Take leaue of thy old Maister, and enquire
My lodging out, giue him a Liuerie
More garded then his fellowes: see it done
Clo. Father in, I cannot get a seruice, no, I haue nere a tongue in my head, well: if anie man in Italie haue a fairer table which doth offer to sweare vpon a booke, I shall haue good fortune; goe too, here's a simple line of life, here's a small trifle of wiues, alas, fifteene wiues is nothing, a leuen widdowes and nine maides is a simple comming in for one man, and then to scape drowning thrice, and to be in perill of my life with the edge of a featherbed, here are simple scapes: well, if Fortune be a woman, she's a good wench for this gere: Father come, Ile take my leaue of the Iew in the twinkling.
Exit Clowne.
Bass. I praie thee good Leonardo thinke on this,
These things being bought and orderly bestowed
Returne in haste, for I doe feast to night
My best esteemd acquaintance, hie thee goe
Leon. my best endeuors shall be done herein.
Exit Le.
Enter Gratiano.
Gra. Where's your Maister
Leon. Yonder sir he walkes
Gra. Signior Bassanio
Bas. Gratiano
Gra. I haue a sute to you
Bass. You haue obtain'd it
Gra. You must not denie me, I must goe with you to
Belmont
Bass. Why then you must: but heare thee Gratiano,
Thou art to wilde, to rude, and bold of voyce,
Parts that become thee happily enough,
And in such eyes as ours appeare not faults;
But where they are not knowne, why there they show
Something too liberall, pray thee take paine
To allay with some cold drops of modestie
Thy skipping spirit, least through thy wilde behauiour
I be misconsterd in the place I goe to,
And loose my hopes
Gra. Signor Bassanio, heare me,
If I doe not put on a sober habite,
Talke with respect, and sweare but now and than,
Weare prayer bookes in my pocket, looke demurely,
Nay more, while grace is saying hood mine eyes
Thus with my hat, and sigh and say Amen:
Vse all the obseruance of ciuillitie
Like one well studied in a sad ostent
To please his Grandam, neuer trust me more
Bas. Well, we shall see your bearing
Gra. Nay but I barre to night, you shall not gage me
By what we doe to night
Bas. No that were pittie,
I would intreate you rather to put on
Your boldest suite of mirth, for we haue friends
That purpose merriment: but far you well,
I haue some businesse
Gra. And I must to Lorenso and the rest,
But we will visite you at supper time.
Exeunt.
Enter Iessica and the Clowne.
Ies. I am sorry thou wilt leaue my Father so,
Our house is hell, and thou a merrie diuell
Did'st rob it of some taste of tediousnesse;
But far thee well, there is a ducat for thee,
And Lancelet, soone at supper shalt thou see
Lorenzo, who is thy new Maisters guest,
Giue him this Letter, doe it secretly,
And so farewell: I would not haue my Father
see me talke with thee
Clo. Adue, teares exhibit my tongue, most beautifull Pagan, most sweete Iew, if a Christian doe not play the knaue and get thee, I am much deceiued; but adue, these foolish drops doe somewhat drowne my manly spirit: adue. Enter.
Ies. Farewell good Lancelet.
Alacke, what hainous sinne is it in me
To be ashamed to be my Fathers childe,
But though I am a daughter to his blood,
I am not to his manners: O Lorenzo,
If thou keepe promise I shall end this strife,
Become a Christian, and thy louing wife.
Enter.
Enter Gratiano, Lorenzo, Salarino, and Salanio.
Lor. Nay, we will slinke away in supper time,
Disguise vs at my lodging, and returne all in an houre
Gra. We haue not made good preparation
Sal. We haue not spoke vs yet of Torch-bearers
Sol. 'Tis vile vnlesse it may be quaintly ordered,
And better in my minde not vndertooke
Lor. 'Tis now but foure of clock, we haue two houres
To furnish vs; friend Lancelet what's the newes.
Enter Lancelet with a Letter.
Lan. And it shall please you to breake vp this, shall it
seeme to signifie
Lor. I know the hand, in faith 'tis a faire hand
And whiter then the paper it writ on,
Is the faire hand that writ
Gra. Loue newes in faith
Lan. By your leaue sir
Lor. Whither goest thou?
Lan. Marry sir to bid my old Master the Iew to sup
to night with my new Master the Christian
Lor. Hold here, take this, tell gentle Iessica
I will not faile her, speake it priuately:
Go Gentlemen, will you prepare you for this Maske to
night,
I am prouided of a Torch-bearer.
Exit. Clowne
Sal. I marry, ile be gone about it strait
Sol. And so will I
Lor. Meete me and Gratiano at Gratianos lodging
Some houre hence
Sal. 'Tis good we do so.
Enter.
Gra. Was not that Letter from faire Iessica?
Lor. I must needes tell thee all, she hath directed
How I shall take her from her Fathers house,
What gold and iewels she is furnisht with,
What Pages suite she hath in readinesse:
If ere the Iew her Father come to heauen,
It will be for his gentle daughters sake;
And neuer dare misfortune crosse her foote,
Vnlesse she doe it vnder this excuse,
That she is issue to a faithlesse Iew:
Come goe with me, pervse this as thou goest,
Faire Iessica shall be my Torch-bearer.
Enter.
Enter Iew, and his man that was the Clowne.
Iew. Well, thou shall see, thy eyes shall be thy iudge,
The difference of old Shylocke and Bassanio;
What Iessica, thou shalt not gurmandize
As thou hast done with me: what Iessica?
And sleepe, and snore, and rend apparrell out.
Why Iessica I say
Clo. Why Iessica
Shy. Who bids thee call? I do not bid thee call
Clo. Your worship was wont to tell me
I could doe nothing without bidding.
Enter Iessica.
Ies. Call you? what is your will?
Shy. I am bid forth to supper Iessica,
There are my Keyes: but wherefore should I go?
I am not bid for loue, they flatter me,
But yet Ile goe in hate, to feede vpon
The prodigall Christian. Iessica my girle,
Looke to my house, I am right loath to goe,
There is some ill a bruing towards my rest,
For I did dreame of money bags to night
Clo. I beseech you sir goe, my yong Master
Doth expect your reproach
Shy. So doe I his
Clo. And they haue conspired together, I will not say you shall see a Maske, but if you doe, then it was not for nothing that my nose fell a bleeding on blacke monday last, at six a clocke ith morning, falling out that yeere on ashwensday was foure yeere in th' afternoone
Shy. What are their maskes? heare you me Iessica,
Lock vp my doores, and when you heare the drum
And the vile squealing of the wry-neckt Fife,
Clamber not you vp to the casements then,
Nor thrust your head into the publique streete
To gaze on Christian fooles with varnisht faces:
But stop my houses eares, I meane my casements,
Let not the sound of shallow fopperie enter
My sober house. By Iacobs staffe I sweare,
I haue no minde of feasting forth to night:
But I will goe: goe you before me sirra,
Say I will come
Clo. I will goe before sir,
Mistris looke out at window for all this;
There will come a Christian by,
Will be worth a Iewes eye
Shy. What saies that foole of Hagars off-spring?
ha
Ies. His words were farewell mistris, nothing else
Shy. The patch is kinde enough, but a huge feeder:
Snaile-slow in profit, but he sleepes by day
More then the wilde-cat: drones hiue not with me,
Therefore I part with him, and part with him
To one that I would haue him helpe to waste
His borrowed purse. Well Iessica goe in,
Perhaps I will returne immediately;
Doe as I bid you, shut dores after you, fast binde, fast
finde,
A prouerbe neuer stale in thriftie minde.
Enter.
Ies. Farewell, and if my fortune be not crost,
I haue a Father, you a daughter lost.
Enter.
Enter the Maskers, Gratiano and Salino.
Gra. This is the penthouse vnder which Lorenzo
Desired vs to make a stand
Sal. His houre is almost past
Gra. And it is meruaile he out-dwels his houre,
For louers euer run before the clocke
Sal. O ten times faster Venus Pidgions flye
To steale loues bonds new made, then they are wont
To keepe obliged faith vnforfaited
Gra. That euer holds, who riseth from a feast
With that keene appetite that he sits downe?
Where is the horse that doth vntread againe
His tedious measures with the vnbated fire,
That he did pace them first: all things that are,
Are with more spirit chased then enioy'd.
How like a yonger or a prodigall
The skarfed barke puts from her natiue bay,
Hudg'd and embraced by the strumpet winde:
How like a prodigall doth she returne
With ouer-wither'd ribs and ragged sailes,
Leane, rent, and begger'd by the strumpet winde?
Enter Lorenzo.
Salino. Heere comes Lorenzo, more of this hereafter
Lor. Sweete friends, your patience for my long abode,
Not I, but my affaires haue made you wait;
When you shall please to play the theeues for wiues
Ile watch as long for you then: approach
Here dwels my father Iew. Hoa, who's within?
Iessica aboue.
Iess. Who are you? tell me for more certainty,
Albeit Ile sweare that I do know your tongue
Lor. Lorenzo, and thy Loue
Ies. Lorenzo certaine, and my loue indeed,
For who loue I so much? and now who knowes
But you Lorenzo, whether I am yours?
Lor. Heauen and thy thoughts are witness that thou
art
Ies. Heere, catch this casket, it is worth the paines,
I am glad 'tis night, you do not looke on me,
For I am much asham'd of my exchange:
But loue is blinde, and louers cannot see
The pretty follies that themselues commit,
For if they could, Cupid himselfe would blush
To see me thus transformed to a boy
Lor. Descend, for you must be my torch-bearer
Ies. What, must I hold a Candle to my shames?
They in themselues goodsooth are too too light.
Why, 'tis an office of discouery Loue,
And I should be obscur'd
Lor. So you are sweet,
Euen in the louely garnish of a boy: but come at once,
For the close night doth play the run-away,
And we are staid for at Bassanio's feast
Ies. I will make fast the doores and guild my selfe
With some more ducats, and be with you straight
Gra. Now by my hood, a gentle, and no Iew
Lor. Beshrew me but I loue her heartily.
For she is wise, if I can iudge of her.
And faire she is, if that mine eyes be true,
And true she is, as she hath prou'd her selfe:
And therefore like her selfe, wise, faire, and true,
Shall she be placed in my constant soule.
Enter Iessica.
What, art thou come? on gentlemen, away,
Our masking mates by this time for vs stay.
Enter.
Enter Anthonio.
Ant. Who's there?
Gra. Signior Anthonio?
Ant. Fie, fie, Gratiano, where are all the rest?
'Tis nine a clocke, our friends all stay for you,
No maske to night, the winde is come about,
Bassanio presently will goe aboord,
I haue sent twenty out to seeke for you
Gra. I am glad on't, I desire no more delight
Then to be vnder saile, and gone to night.
Exeunt.
Enter Portia with Morrocho, and both their traines.
Por. Goe, draw aside the curtaines, and discouer
The seuerall Caskets to this noble Prince:
Now make your choyse
Mor. The first of gold, who this inscription beares,
Who chooseth me, shall gaine what men desire.
The second siluer, which this promise carries,
Who chooseth me, shall get as much as he deserues.
This third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt,
Who chooseth me, must giue and hazard all he hath.
How shall I know if I doe choose the right?
How shall I know if I doe choose the right
Por. The one of them containes my picture Prince,
If you choose that, then I am yours withall
Mor. Some God direct my iudgement, let me see,
I will suruay the inscriptions, backe againe:
What saies this leaden casket?
Who chooseth me, must giue and hazard all he hath.
Must giue, for what? for lead, hazard for lead?
This casket threatens men that hazard all
Doe it in hope of faire aduantages:
A golden minde stoopes not to showes of drosse,
Ile then nor giue nor hazard ought for lead.
What saies the Siluer with her virgin hue?
Who chooseth me, shall get as much as he deserues.
As much as he deserues; pause there Morocho,
And weigh thy value with an euen hand,
If thou beest rated by thy estimation
Thou doost deserue enough, and yet enough
May not extend so farre as to the Ladie:
And yet to be afeard of my deseruing,
Were but a weake disabling of my selfe.
As much as I deserue, why that's the Lady.
I doe in birth deserue her, and in fortunes,
In graces, and in qualities of breeding:
But more then these, in loue I doe deserue.
What if I strai'd no farther, but chose here?
Let's see once more this saying grau'd in gold.
Who chooseth me shall gaine what many men desire:
Why that's the Lady, all the world desires her:
From the foure corners of the earth they come
To kisse this shrine, this mortall breathing Saint.
The Hircanion deserts, and the vaste wildes
Of wide Arabia are as throughfares now
For Princes to come view faire Portia.
The waterie Kingdome, whose ambitious head
Spets in the face of heauen, is no barre
To stop the forraine spirits, but they come
As ore a brooke to see faire Portia.
One of these three containes her heauenly picture.
Is't like that Lead containes her? 'twere damnation
To thinke so base a thought, it were too grose
To rib her searecloath in the obscure graue:
Or shall I thinke in Siluer she's immur'd
Being ten times vndervalued to tride gold;
O sinfull thought, neuer so rich a Iem
Was set in worse then gold! They haue in England
A coyne that beares the figure of an Angell
Stampt in gold, but that's insculpt vpon:
But here an Angell in a golden bed
Lies all within. Deliuer me the key:
Here doe I choose, and thriue I as I may
Por. There take it Prince, and if my forme lye there
Then I am yours
Mor. O hell! what haue we here, a carrion death,
Within whose emptie eye there is a written scroule;
Ile reade the writing.
All that glisters is not gold,
Often haue you heard that told;
Many a man his life hath sold
But my outside to behold;
Guilded timber doe wormes infold:
Had you beene as wise as bold,
Yong in limbs, in iudgement old,
Your answere had not beene inscrold,
Fareyouwell, your suite is cold,
Mor. Cold indeede, and labour lost,
Then farewell heate, and welcome frost:
Portia adew, I haue too grieu'd a heart
To take a tedious leaue: thus loosers part.
Enter.
Por. A gentle riddance: draw the curtaines, go:
Let all of his complexion choose me so.
Exeunt.
Enter Salarino and Solanio.
Flo. Cornets
Sal. Why man I saw Bassanio vnder sayle;
With him is Gratiano gone along;
And in their ship I am sure Lorenzo is not
Sol. The villaine Iew with outcries raisd the Duke.
Who went with him to search Bassanios ship
Sal. He comes too late, the ship was vndersaile;
But there the Duke was giuen to vnderstand
That in a Gondilo were seene together
Lorenzo and his amorous Iessica.
Besides, Anthonio certified the Duke
They were not with Bassanio in his ship
Sol. I neuer heard a passion so confusd,
So strange, outragious, and so variable,
As the dogge Iew did vtter in the streets;
My daughter, O my ducats, O my daughter,
Fled with a Christian, O my Christian ducats!
Iustice, the law, my ducats, and my daughter;
A sealed bag, two sealed bags of ducats,
Of double ducats, stolne from me by my daughter,
And iewels, two stones, two rich and precious stones,
Stolne by my daughter: iustice, finde the girle,
She hath the stones vpon her, and the ducats
Sal. Why all the boyes in Venice follow him,
Crying his stones, his daughter, and his ducats
Sol. Let good Anthonio looke he keepe his day
Or he shall pay for this
Sal. Marry well remembred,
I reason'd with a Frenchman yesterday,
Who told me, in the narrow seas that part
The French and English, there miscaried
A vessell of our countrey richly fraught:
I thought vpon Anthonio when he told me,
And wisht in silence that it were not his
Sol. You were best to tell Anthonio what you heare.
Yet doe not suddainely, for it may grieue him
Sal. A kinder Gentleman treads not the earth,
I saw Bassanio and Anthonio part,
Bassanio told him he would make some speede
Of his returne: he answered, doe not so,
Slubber not businesse for my sake Bassanio,
But stay the very riping of the time,
And for the Iewes bond which he hath of me,
Let it not enter in your minde of loue:
Be merry, and imploy your chiefest thoughts
To courtship, and such faire ostents of loue
As shall conueniently become you there;
And euen there his eye being big with teares,
Turning his face, he put his hand behinde him,
And with affection wondrous sencible
He wrung Bassanios hand, and so they parted
Sol. I thinke he onely loues the world for him,
I pray thee let vs goe and finde him out
And quicken his embraced heauinesse
With some delight or other
Sal. Doe we so.
Exeunt.
Enter Nerrissa and a Seruiture.
Ner. Quick, quick I pray thee, draw the curtain strait,
The Prince of Arragon hath tane his oath,
And comes to his election presently.
Enter Arragon, his traine, and Portia. Flor. Cornets.
Por. Behold, there stand the caskets noble Prince,
If you choose that wherein I am contain'd,
Straight shall our nuptiall rights be solemniz'd:
But if thou faile, without more speech my Lord,
You must be gone from hence immediately
Ar. I am enioynd by oath to obserue three things;
First, neuer to vnfold to any one
Which casket 'twas I chose; next, if I faile
Of the right casket, neuer in my life
To wooe a maide in way of marriage:
Lastly, if I doe faile in fortune of my choyse,
Immediately to leaue you, and be gone
Por. To these iniunctions euery one doth sweare
That comes to hazard for my worthlesse selfe
Ar. And so haue I addrest me, fortune now
To my hearts hope: gold, siluer, and base lead.
Who chooseth me must giue and hazard all he hath.
You shall looke fairer ere I giue or hazard.
What saies the golden chest, ha, let me see.
Who chooseth me, shall gaine what many men desire:
What many men desire, that many may be meant
By the foole multitude that choose by show,
Not learning more then the fond eye doth teach,
Which pries not to th' interior, but like the Martlet
Builds in the weather on the outward wall,
Euen in the force and rode of casualtie.
I will not choose what many men desire,
Because I will not iumpe with common spirits,
And ranke me with the barbarous multitudes.
Why then to thee thou Siluer treasure house,
Tell me once more, what title thou doost beare;
Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserues:
And well said too; for who shall goe about
To cosen Fortune, and be honourable
Without the stampe of merrit, let none presume
To weare an vndeserued dignitie:
O that estates, degrees, and offices,
Were not deriu'd corruptly, and that cleare honour
Were purchast by the merrit of the wearer;
How many then should couer that stand bare?
How many be commanded that command?
How much low pleasantry would then be gleaned
From the true seede of honor? And how much honor
Pickt from the chaffe and ruine of the times,
To be new varnisht: Well, but to my choise.
Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserues.
I will assume desert; giue me a key for this,
And instantly vnlocke my fortunes here
Por. Too long a pause for that which you finde there
Ar. What's here, the portrait of a blinking idiot
Presenting me a scedule, I will reade it:
How much vnlike art thou to Portia?
How much vnlike my hopes and my deseruings?
Who chooseth me, shall haue as much as he deserues.
Did I deserue no more then a fooles head,
Is that my prize, are my deserts no better?
Por. To offend and iudge are distinct offices,
And of opposed natures
Ar. What is here?
The fier seauen times tried this,
Seauen times tried that iudgement is,
That did neuer choose amis,
Some there be that shadowes kisse,
Such haue but a shadowes blisse:
There be fooles aliue Iwis
Siluer'd o're, and so was this:
Take what wife you will to bed,
I will euer be your head:
So be gone, you are sped
Ar. Still more foole I shall appeare
By the time I linger here,
With one fooles head I came to woo,
But I goe away with two.
Sweet adue, Ile keepe my oath,
Patiently to beare my wroath
Por. Thus hath the candle sing'd the moath:
O these deliberate fooles when they doe choose,
They haue the wisdome by their wit to loose
Ner. The ancient saying is no heresie,
Hanging and wiuing goes by destinie
Por. Come draw the curtaine Nerrissa.
Enter Messenger.
Mes. Where is my Lady?
Por. Here, what would my Lord?
Mes. Madam, there is a-lighted at your gate
A yong Venetian, one that comes before
To signifie th' approaching of his Lord,
From whom he bringeth sensible regreets;
To wit (besides commends and curteous breath)
Gifts of rich value; yet I haue not seene
So likely an Embassador of loue.
A day in Aprill neuer came so sweete
To show how costly Sommer was at hand,
As this fore-spurrer comes before his Lord
Por. No more I pray thee, I am halfe a-feard
Thou wilt say anone he is some kin to thee,
Thou spend'st such high-day wit in praising him:
Come, come Nerryssa, for I long to see
Quicke Cupids Post, that comes so mannerly
Ner. Bassanio Lord, loue if thy will it be.
Exeunt.
Actus Tertius.
Enter Solanio and Salarino.
Sol. Now, what newes on the Ryalto? Sal. Why yet it liues there vncheckt, that Anthonio hath a ship of rich lading wrackt on the narrow Seas; the Goodwins I thinke they call the place, a very dangerous flat, and fatall, where the carcasses of many a tall ship, lye buried, as they say, if my gossips report be an honest woman of her word
Sol. I would she were as lying a gossip in that, as euer knapt Ginger, or made her neighbours beleeue she wept for the death of a third husband: but it is true, without any slips of prolixity, or crossing the plaine high-way of talke, that the good Anthonio, the honest Anthonio; o that I had a title good enough to keepe his name company! Sal. Come, the full stop
Sol. Ha, what sayest thou, why the end is, he hath lost a ship
Sal. I would it might proue the end of his losses
Sol. Let me say Amen betimes, least the diuell crosse my praier, for here he comes in the likenes of a Iew. How now Shylocke, what newes among the Merchants? Enter Shylocke.
Shy. You knew none so well, none so well as you, of
my daughters flight
Sal. That's certaine, I for my part knew the Tailor
that made the wings she flew withall
Sol. And Shylocke for his owne part knew the bird was fledg'd, and then it is the complexion of them al to leaue the dam
Shy. She is damn'd for it
Sal. That's certaine, if the diuell may be her Iudge
Shy. My owne flesh and blood to rebell
Sol. Out vpon it old carrion, rebels it at these yeeres
Shy. I say my daughter is my flesh and bloud
Sal. There is more difference betweene thy flesh and hers, then betweene Iet and Iuorie, more betweene your bloods, then there is betweene red wine and rennish: but tell vs, doe you heare whether Anthonio haue had anie losse at sea or no? Shy. There I haue another bad match, a bankrout, a prodigall, who dare scarce shew his head on the Ryalto, a begger that was vsd to come so smug vpon the Mart: let him look to his bond, he was wont to call me Vsurer, let him looke to his bond, he was wont to lend money for a Christian curtsie, let him looke to his bond
Sal. Why I am sure if he forfaite, thou wilt not take his flesh, what's that good for? Shy. To baite fish withall, if it will feede nothing else, it will feede my reuenge; he hath disgrac'd me, and hindred me halfe a million, laught at my losses, mockt at my gaines, scorned my Nation, thwarted my bargaines, cooled my friends, heated mine enemies, and what's the reason? I am a Iewe: Hath not a Iew eyes? hath not a Iew hands, organs, dementions, sences, affections, passions, fed with the same foode, hurt with the same weapons, subiect to the same diseases, healed by the same meanes, warmed and cooled by the same Winter and Sommer as a Christian is: if you pricke vs doe we not bleede? if you tickle vs, doe we not laugh? if you poison vs doe we not die? and if you wrong vs shall we not reuenge? if we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that. If a Iew wrong a Christian, what is his humility, reuenge? If a Christian wrong a Iew, what should his sufferance be by Christian example, why reuenge? The villanie you teach me I will execute, and it shall goe hard but I will better the instruction. Enter a man from Anthonio.
Gentlemen, my maister Anthonio is at his house, and desires to speake with you both
Sal. We haue beene vp and downe to seeke him.
Enter Tuball.
Sol. Here comes another of the Tribe, a third cannot
be matcht, vnlesse the diuell himselfe turne Iew.
Exeunt. Gentlemen
Shy. How now Tuball, what newes from Genowa? hast
thou found my daughter?
Tub. I often came where I did heare of her, but cannot
finde her
Shy. Why there, there, there, there, a diamond gone cost me two thousand ducats in Franckford, the curse neuer fell vpon our Nation till now, I neuer felt it till now, two thousand ducats in that, and other precious, precious iewels: I would my daughter were dead at my foot, and the iewels in her eare: would she were hearst at my foote, and the duckets in her coffin: no newes of them, why so? and I know not how much is spent in the search: why thou losse vpon losse, the theefe gone with so much, and so much to finde the theefe, and no satisfaction, no reuenge, nor no ill luck stirring but what lights a my shoulders, no sighes but a my breathing, no teares but a my shedding
Tub. Yes, other men haue ill lucke too, Anthonio as I
heard in Genowa?
Shy. What, what, what, ill lucke, ill lucke
Tub. Hath an Argosie cast away comming from Tripolis
Shy. I thanke God, I thanke God, is it true, is it true?
Tub. I spoke with some of the Saylers that escaped
the wracke
Shy. I thanke thee good Tuball, good newes, good
newes: ha, ha, here in Genowa
Tub. Your daughter spent in Genowa, as I heard, one
night fourescore ducats
Shy. Thou stick'st a dagger in me, I shall neuer see my
gold againe, fourescore ducats at a sitting, fourescore ducats
Tub. There came diuers of Anthonios creditors in my company to Venice, that sweare hee cannot choose but breake
Shy. I am very glad of it, ile plague him, ile torture
him, I am glad of it,
Tub. One of them shewed me a ring that hee had of
your daughter for a Monkie
Shy. Out vpon her, thou torturest me Tuball, it was my Turkies, I had it of Leah when I was a Batcheler: I would not haue giuen it for a wildernesse of Monkies
Tub. But Anthonio is certainely vndone
Shy. Nay, that's true, that's very true, goe Tuball, see me an Officer, bespeake him a fortnight before, I will haue the heart of him if he forfeit, for were he out of Venice, I can make what merchandize I will: goe Tuball, and meete me at our Sinagogue, goe good Tuball, at our Sinagogue Tuball.
Exeunt.
Enter Bassanio, Portia, Gratiano, and all their traine.
Por. I pray you tarrie, pause a day or two
Before you hazard, for in choosing wrong
I loose your companie; therefore forbeare a while,
There's something tels me (but it is not loue)
I would not loose you, and you know your selfe,
Hate counsailes not in such a quallitie;
But least you should not vnderstand me well,
And yet a maiden hath no tongue, but thought,
I would detaine you here some month or two
Before you venture for me. I could teach you
How to choose right, but then I am forsworne,
So will I neuer be, so may you misse me,
But if you doe, youle make me wish a sinne,
That I had beene forsworne: Beshrow your eyes,
They haue ore-lookt me and deuided me,
One halfe of me is yours, the other halfe yours,
Mine owne I would say: but of mine then yours,
And so all yours; O these naughtie times
Puts bars betweene the owners and their rights.
And so though yours, not yours (proue it so)
Let Fortune goe to hell for it, not I.
I speake too long, but 'tis to peize the time,
To ich it, and to draw it out in length,
To stay you from election
Bass. Let me choose,
For as I am, I liue vpon the racke
Por. Vpon the racke Bassanio, then confesse
What treason there is mingled with your loue
Bass. None but that vglie treason of mistrust.
Which makes me feare the enioying of my loue:
There may as well be amitie and life,
'Tweene snow and fire, as treason and my loue
Por. I, but I feare you speake vpon the racke,
Where men enforced doth speake any thing
Bass. Promise me life, and ile confesse the truth
Por. Well then, confesse and liue
Bass. Confesse and loue
Had beene the verie sum of my confession:
O happie torment, when my torturer
Doth teach me answers for deliuerance:
But let me to my fortune and the caskets
Por. Away then, I am lockt in one of them,
If you doe loue me, you will finde me out.
Nerryssa and the rest, stand all aloofe,
Let musicke sound while he doth make his choise,
Then if he loose he makes a Swan-like end,
Fading in musique. That the comparison
May stand more proper, my eye shall be the streame
And watrie death-bed for him: he may win,
And what is musique than? Than musique is
Euen as the flourish, when true subiects bowe
To a new crowned Monarch: Such it is,
As are those dulcet sounds in breake of day,
That creepe into the dreaming bride-groomes eare,
And summon him to marriage. Now he goes
With no lesse presence, but with much more loue
Then yong Alcides, when he did redeeme
The virgine tribute, paied by howling Troy
To the Sea-monster: I stand for sacrifice,
The rest aloofe are the Dardanian wiues:
With bleared visages come forth to view
The issue of th' exploit: Goe Hercules,
Liue thou, I liue with much more dismay
I view the sight, then thou that mak'st the fray.
Here Musicke. A Song the whilst Bassanio comments on the Caskets to himselfe.
Tell me where is fancie bred,
Or in the heart, or in the head:
How begot, how nourished. Replie, replie.
It is engendred in the eyes,
With gazing fed, and Fancie dies,
In the cradle where it lies:
Let vs all ring Fancies knell.
Ile begin it.
Ding, dong, bell
All. Ding, dong, bell
Bass. So may the outward showes be least themselues
The world is still deceiu'd with ornament.
In Law, what Plea so tainted and corrupt,
But being season'd with a gracious voice,
Obscures the show of euill? In Religion,
What damned error, but some sober brow
Will blesse it, and approue it with a text,
Hiding the grosenesse with faire ornament:
There is no voice so simple, but assumes
Some marke of vertue on his outward parts;
How manie cowards, whose hearts are all as false
As stayers of sand, weare yet vpon their chins
The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars,
Who inward searcht, haue lyuers white as milke,
And these assume but valors excrement,
To render them redoubted. Looke on beautie,
And you shall see 'tis purchast by the weight,
Which therein workes a miracle in nature,
Making them lightest that weare most of it:
So are those crisped snakie golden locks
Which makes such wanton gambols with the winde
Vpon supposed fairenesse, often knowne
To be the dowrie of a second head,
The scull that bred them in the Sepulcher.
Thus ornament is but the guiled shore
To a most dangerous sea: the beautious scarfe
Vailing an Indian beautie; In a word,
The seeming truth which cunning times put on
To intrap the wisest. Therefore then thou gaudie gold,
Hard food for Midas, I will none of thee,
Nor none of thee thou pale and common drudge
'Tweene man and man: but thou, thou meager lead
Which rather threatnest then dost promise ought,
Thy palenesse moues me more then eloquence,
And here choose I, ioy be the consequence
Por. How all the other passions fleet to ayre,
As doubtfull thoughts, and rash imbrac'd despaire:
And shuddring feare, and greene-eyed iealousie.
O loue be moderate, allay thy extasie,
In measure raine thy ioy, scant this excesse,
I feele too much thy blessing, make it lesse,
For feare I surfeit
Bas. What finde I here?
Faire Portias counterfeit. What demie God
Hath come so neere creation? moue these eies?
Or whether riding on the bals of mine
Seeme they in motion? Here are seuer'd lips
Parted with suger breath, so sweet a barre
Should sunder such sweet friends: here in her haires
The Painter plaies the Spider, and hath wouen
A golden mesh t' intrap the hearts of men
Faster then gnats in cobwebs: but her eies,
How could he see to doe them? hauing made one,
Me thinkes it should haue power to steale both his
And leaue it selfe vnfurnisht: Yet looke how farre
The substance of my praise doth wrong this shadow
In vnderprising it, so farre this shadow
Doth limpe behinde the substance. Here's the scroule,
The continent, and summarie of my fortune.
You that choose not by the view
Chance as faire, and choose as true:
Since this fortune fals to you,
Be content, and seeke no new.
If you be well pleasd with this,
And hold your fortune for your blisse,
Turne you where your Lady is,
And claime her with a louing kisse
Bass. A gentle scroule: Faire Lady, by your leaue,
I come by note to giue, and to receiue,
Like one of two contending in a prize
That thinks he hath done well in peoples eies:
Hearing applause and vniuersall shout,
Giddie in spirit, still gazing in a doubt
Whether those peales of praise be his or no.
So thrice faire Lady stand I euen so,
As doubtfull whether what I see be true,
Vntill confirm'd, sign'd, ratified by you
Por. You see my Lord Bassiano where I stand,
Such as I am; though for my selfe alone
I would not be ambitious in my wish,
To wish my selfe much better, yet for you,
I would be trebled twenty times my selfe,
A thousand times more faire, ten thousand times
More rich, that onely to stand high in your account,
I might in vertues, beauties, liuings, friends,
Exceed account: but the full summe of me
Is sum of nothing: which to terme in grosse,
Is an vnlessoned girle, vnschool'd, vnpractiz'd,
Happy in this, she is not yet so old
But she may learne: happier then this,
Shee is not bred so dull but she can learne;
Happiest of all, is that her gentle spirit
Commits it selfe to yours to be directed,
As from her Lord, her Gouernour, her King.
My selfe, and what is mine, to you and yours
Is now conuerted. But now I was the Lord
Of this faire mansion, master of my seruants,
Queene ore my selfe: and euen now, but now,
This house, these seruants, and this same my selfe
Are yours, my Lord, I giue them with this ring,
Which when you part from, loose, or giue away,
Let it presage the ruine of your loue,
And be my vantage to exclaime on you
Bass. Maddam, you haue bereft me of all words,
Onely my bloud speakes to you in my vaines,
And there is such confusion in my powers,
As after some oration fairely spoke
By a beloued Prince, there doth appeare
Among the buzzing pleased multitude,
Where euery something being blent together,
Turnes to a wilde of nothing, saue of ioy
Exprest, and not exprest: but when this ring
Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence,
O then be bold to say Bassanio's dead
Ner. My Lord and Lady, it is now our time
That haue stood by and seene our wishes prosper,
To cry good ioy, good ioy my Lord and Lady
Gra. My Lord Bassanio, and my gentle Lady,
I wish you all the ioy that you can wish:
For I am sure you can wish none from me:
And when your Honours meane to solemnize
The bargaine of your faith: I doe beseech you
Euen at that time I may be married too
Bass. With all my heart, so thou canst get a wife
Gra. I thanke your Lordship, you haue got me one.
My eyes my Lord can looke as swift as yours:
You saw the mistres, I beheld the maid:
You lou'd, I lou'd for intermission,
No more pertaines to me my Lord then you;
Your fortune stood vpon the caskets there,
And so did mine too, as the matter falls:
For wooing heere vntill I swet againe,
And swearing till my very rough was dry
With oathes of loue, at last, if promise last,
I got a promise of this faire one heere
To haue her loue: prouided that your fortune
Atchieu'd her mistresse
Por. Is this true Nerrissa?
Ner. Madam it is so, so you stand pleas'd withall
Bass. And doe you Gratiano meane good faith?
Gra. Yes faith my Lord
Bass. Our feast shall be much honored in your marriage
Gra. Weele play with them the first boy for a thousand
ducats
Ner. What and stake downe?
Gra. No, we shal nere win at that sport, and stake
downe.
But who comes heere? Lorenzo and his Infidell?
What and my old Venetian friend Salerio?
Enter Lorenzo, Iessica, and Salerio.
Bas. Lorenzo and Salerio, welcome hether,
If that the youth of my new interest heere
Haue power to bid you welcome: by your leaue
I bid my verie friends and Countrimen
Sweet Portia welcome
Por. So do I my Lord, they are intirely welcome
Lor. I thanke your honor; for my part my Lord,
My purpose was not to haue seene you heere,
But meeting with Salerio by the way,
He did intreate mee past all saying nay
To come with him along
Sal. I did my Lord,
And I haue reason for it, Signior Anthonio
Commends him to you
Bass. Ere I ope his Letter
I pray you tell me how my good friend doth
Sal. Not sicke my Lord, vnlesse it be in minde,
Nor wel, vnlesse in minde: his Letter there
Wil shew you his estate.
Opens the Letter.
Gra. Nerrissa, cheere yond stranger, bid her welcom.
Your hand Salerio, what's the newes from Venice?
How doth that royal Merchant good Anthonio;
I know he will be glad of our successe,
We are the Iasons, we haue won the fleece
Sal. I would you had won the fleece that hee hath
lost
Por. There are some shrewd contents in yond same
Paper,
That steales the colour from Bassianos cheeke,
Some deere friend dead, else nothing in the world
Could turne so much the constitution
Of any constant man. What, worse and worse?
With leaue Bassanio I am halfe your selfe,
And I must freely haue the halfe of any thing
That this same paper brings you
Bass. O sweet Portia,
Heere are a few of the vnpleasant'st words
That euer blotted paper. Gentle Ladie
When I did first impart my loue to you,
I freely told you all the wealth I had
Ran in my vaines: I was a Gentleman,
And then I told you true: and yet deere Ladie,
Rating my selfe at nothing, you shall see
How much I was a Braggart, when I told you
My state was nothing, I should then haue told you
That I was worse then nothing: for indeede
I haue ingag'd my selfe to a deere friend,
Ingag'd my friend to his meere enemie
To feede my meanes. Heere is a Letter Ladie,
The paper as the bodie of my friend,
And euerie word in it a gaping wound
Issuing life blood. But is it true Salerio,
Hath all his ventures faild, what not one hit,
From Tripolis, from Mexico and England,
From Lisbon, Barbary, and India,
And not one vessell scape the dreadfull touch
Of Merchant-marring rocks?
Sal. Not one my Lord.
Besides, it should appeare, that if he had
The present money to discharge the Iew,
He would not take it: neuer did I know
A creature that did beare the shape of man
So keene and greedy to confound a man.
He plyes the Duke at morning and at night,
And doth impeach the freedome of the state
If they deny him iustice. Twenty Merchants,
The Duke himselfe, and the Magnificoes
Of greatest port haue all perswaded with him,
But none can driue him from the enuious plea
Of forfeiture, of iustice, and his bond
Iessi. When I was with him, I haue heard him sweare
To Tuball and to Chus, his Countri-men,
That he would rather haue Anthonio's flesh,
Then twenty times the value of the summe
That he did owe him: and I know my Lord,
If law, authoritie, and power denie not,
It will goe hard with poore Anthonio
Por. Is it your deere friend that is thus in trouble?
Bass. The deerest friend to me, the kindest man,
The best condition'd, and vnwearied spirit
In doing curtesies: and one in whom
The ancient Romane honour more appeares
Then any that drawes breath in Italie
Por. What summe owes he the Iew?
Bass. For me three thousand ducats
Por. What, no more?
Pay him sixe thousand, and deface the bond:
Double sixe thousand, and then treble that,
Before a friend of this description
Shall lose a haire through Bassanio's fault.
First goe with me to Church, and call me wife,
And then away to Venice to your friend:
For neuer shall you lie by Portias side
With an vnquiet soule. You shall haue gold
To pay the petty debt twenty times ouer.
When it is payd, bring your true friend along,
My maid Nerrissa, and my selfe meane time
Will liue as maids and widdowes; come away,
For you shall hence vpon your wedding day:
Bid your friends welcome, show a merry cheere,
Since you are deere bought, I will loue you deere.
But let me heare the letter of your friend.
Sweet Bassanio, my ships haue all miscarried, my Creditors
grow cruell, my estate is very low, my bond to the Iew is
forfeit, and since in paying it, it is impossible I should liue, all
debts are cleerd between you and I, if I might see you at my
death: notwithstanding, vse your pleasure, if your loue doe not
perswade you to come, let not my letter
Por. O loue! dispach all busines and be gone
Bass. Since I haue your good leaue to goe away,
I will make hast; but till I come againe,
No bed shall ere be guilty of my stay,
Nor rest be interposer twixt vs twaine.
Exeunt.
Enter the Iew, and Solanio, and Anthonio, and the Iaylor.
Iew. Iaylor, looke to him, tell not me of mercy,
This is the foole that lends out money gratis.
Iaylor, looke to him
Ant. Heare me yet good Shylok
Iew. Ile haue my bond, speake not against my bond,
I haue sworne an oath that I will haue my bond:
Thou call'dst me dog before thou hadst a cause,
But since I am a dog, beware my phangs,
The Duke shall grant me iustice, I do wonder
Thou naughty Iaylor, that thou art so fond
To come abroad with him at his request
Ant. I pray thee heare me speake
Iew. Ile haue my bond, I will not heare thee speake,
Ile haue my bond, and therefore speake no more,
Ile not be made a soft and dull ey'd foole,
To shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yeeld
To Christian intercessors: follow not,
Ile haue no speaking, I will haue my bond.
Exit Iew.
Sol. It is the most impenetrable curre
That euer kept with men
Ant. Let him alone,
Ile follow him no more with bootlesse prayers:
He seekes my life, his reason well I know;
I oft deliuer'd from his forfeitures
Many that haue at times made mone to me,
Therefore he hates me
Sol. I am sure the Duke will neuer grant
this forfeiture to hold
An. The Duke cannot deny the course of law:
For the commoditie that strangers haue
With vs in Venice, if it be denied,
Will much impeach the iustice of the State,
Since that the trade and profit of the citty
Consisteth of all Nations. Therefore goe,
These greefes and losses haue so bated mee,
That I shall hardly spare a pound of flesh
To morrow, to my bloudy Creditor.
Well Iaylor, on, pray God Bassanio come
To see me pay his debt, and then I care not.
Exeunt.
Enter Portia, Nerrissa, Lorenzo, Iessica, and a man of Portias.
Lor. Madam, although I speake it in your presence,
You haue a noble and a true conceit
Of god-like amity, which appeares most strongly
In bearing thus the absence of your Lord.
But if you knew to whom you shew this honour,
How true a Gentleman you send releefe,
How deere a louer of my Lord your husband,
I know you would be prouder of the worke
Then customary bounty can enforce you
Por. I neuer did repent for doing good,
Nor shall not now: for in companions
That do conuerse and waste the time together,
Whose soules doe beare an egal yoke of loue.
There must be needs a like proportion
Of lyniaments, of manners, and of spirit;
Which makes me thinke that this Anthonio
Being the bosome louer of my Lord,
Must needs be like my Lord. If it be so,
How little is the cost I haue bestowed
In purchasing the semblance of my soule;
From out the state of hellish cruelty,
This comes too neere the praising of my selfe,
Therefore no more of it: heere other things
Lorenso I commit into your hands,
The husbandry and mannage of my house,
Vntill my Lords returne; for mine owne part
I haue toward heauen breath'd a secret vow,
To liue in prayer and contemplation,
Onely attended by Nerrissa heere,
Vntill her husband and my Lords returne:
There is a monastery too miles off,
And there we will abide. I doe desire you
Not to denie this imposition,
The which my loue and some necessity
Now layes vpon you
Lorens. Madame, with all my heart,
I shall obey you in all faire commands
Por. My people doe already know my minde,
And will acknowledge you and Iessica
In place of Lord Bassanio and my selfe.
So far you well till we shall meete againe
Lor. Faire thoughts & happy houres attend on you
Iessi. I wish your Ladiship all hearts content
Por. I thanke you for your wish, and am well pleas'd
To wish it backe on you: faryouwell Iessica.
Exeunt.
Now Balthaser, as I haue euer found thee honest true,
So let me finde thee still: take this same letter,
And vse thou all the indeauor of a man,
In speed to Mantua, see thou render this
Into my cosins hand, Doctor Belario,
And looke what notes and garments he doth giue thee,
Bring them I pray thee with imagin'd speed
Vnto the Tranect, to the common Ferrie
Which trades to Venice; waste no time in words,
But get thee gone, I shall be there before thee
Balth. Madam, I goe with all conuenient speed
Por. Come on Nerissa, I haue worke in hand
That you yet know not of; wee'll see our husbands
Before they thinke of vs?
Nerrissa. Shall they see vs?
Portia. They shall Nerrissa: but in such a habit,
That they shall thinke we are accomplished
With that we lacke; Ile hold thee any wager
When we are both accoutered like yong men,
Ile proue the prettier fellow of the two,
And weare my dagger with the brauer grace,
And speake betweene the change of man and boy,
With a reede voyce, and turne two minsing steps
Into a manly stride; and speake of frayes
Like a fine bragging youth: and tell quaint lyes
How honourable Ladies sought my loue,
Which I denying, they fell sicke and died.
I could not doe withall: then Ile repent,
And wish for all that, that I had not kil'd them;
And twentie of these punie lies Ile tell,
That men shall sweare I haue discontinued schoole
Aboue a twelue moneth: I haue within my minde
A thousand raw tricks of these bragging Iacks,
Which I will practise
Nerris. Why, shall wee turne to men?
Portia. Fie, what a questions that?
If thou wert nere a lewd interpreter:
But come, Ile tell thee all my whole deuice
When I am in my coach, which stayes for vs
At the Parke gate; and therefore haste away,
For we must measure twentie miles to day.
Exeunt.
Enter Clowne and Iessica.
Clown. Yes truly; for looke you, the sinnes of the Father are to be laid vpon the children, therefore I promise you, I feare you, I was alwaies plaine with you, and so now I speake my agitation of the matter: therfore be of good cheere, for truly I thinke you are damn'd, there is but one hope in it that can doe you anie good, and that is but a kinde of bastard hope neither
Iessica. And what hope is that I pray thee?
Clow. Marrie you may partlie hope that your father
got you not, that you are not the Iewes daughter
Ies. That were a kinde of bastard hope indeed, so the
sins of my mother should be visited vpon me
Clow. Truly then I feare you are damned both by father and mother: thus when I shun Scilla your father, I fall into Charibdis your mother; well, you are gone both waies
Ies. I shall be sau'd by my husband, he hath made me a Christian
Clow. Truly the more to blame he, we were Christians enow before, e'ne as many as could wel liue one by another: this making of Christians will raise the price of Hogs, if wee grow all to be porke-eaters, wee shall not shortlie haue a rasher on the coales for money. Enter Lorenzo.
Ies. Ile tell my husband Lancelet what you say, heere he comes
Loren. I shall grow iealous of you shortly Lancelet, if you thus get my wife into corners? Ies. Nay, you need not feare vs Lorenzo, Launcelet and I are out, he tells me flatly there is no mercy for mee in heauen, because I am a Iewes daughter: and hee saies you are no good member of the common wealth, for in conuerting Iewes to Christians, you raise the price of Porke
Loren. I shall answere that better to the Commonwealth, than you can the getting vp of the Negroes bellie: the Moore is with childe by you Launcelet? Clow. It is much that the Moore should be more then reason: but if she be lesse then an honest woman, shee is indeed more then I tooke her for
Loren. How euerie foole can play vpon the word, I thinke the best grace of witte will shortly turne into silence, and discourse grow commendable in none onely but Parrats: goe in sirra, bid them prepare for dinner? Clow. That is done sir, they haue all stomacks? Loren. Goodly Lord, what a witte-snapper are you, then bid them prepare dinner
Clow. That is done to sir, onely couer is the word
Loren. Will you couer than sir?
Clow. Not so sir neither, I know my dutie
Loren. Yet more quarreling with occasion, wilt thou shew the whole wealth of thy wit in an instant; I pray thee vnderstand a plaine man in his plaine meaning: goe to thy fellowes, bid them couer the table, serue in the meat, and we will come in to dinner
Clow. For the table sir, it shall be seru'd in, for the meat sir, it shall bee couered, for your comming in to dinner sir, why let it be as humors and conceits shall gouerne.
Exit Clowne.
Lor. O deare discretion, how his words are suted,
The foole hath planted in his memory
An Armie of good words, and I doe know
A many fooles that stand in better place,
Garnisht like him, that for a tricksie word
Defie the matter: how cheer'st thou Iessica,
And now good sweet say thy opinion,
How dost thou like the Lord Bassiano's wife?
Iessi. Past all expressing, it is very meete
The Lord Bassanio liue an vpright life
For hauing such a blessing in his Lady,
He findes the ioyes of heauen heere on earth,
And if on earth he doe not meane it, it
Is reason he should neuer come to heauen?
Why, if two gods should play some heauenly match,
And on the wager lay two earthly women,
And Portia one: there must be something else
Paund with the other, for the poore rude world
Hath not her fellow
Loren. Euen such a husband
Hast thou of me, as she is for a wife
Ies. Nay, but aske my opinion to of that?
Lor. I will anone, first let vs goe to dinner?
Ies. Nay, let me praise you while I haue a stomacke?
Lor. No pray thee, let it serue for table talke,
Then how som ere thou speakst 'mong other things,
I shall digest it?
Iessi. Well, Ile set you forth.
Exeunt.
Actus Quartus.
Enter the Duke, the Magnificoes, Anthonio, Bassanio, and
Gratiano
Duke. What, is Anthonio heere?
Ant. Ready, so please your grace?
Duke. I am sorry for thee, thou art come to answere
A stonie aduersary, an inhumane wretch,
Vncapable of pitty, voyd, and empty
From any dram of mercie
Ant. I haue heard
Your Grace hath tane great paines to qualifie
His rigorous course: but since he stands obdurate,
And that no lawful meanes can carrie me
Out of his enuies reach, I do oppose
My patience to his fury, and am arm'd
To suffer with a quietnesse of spirit,
The very tiranny and rage of his
Du. Go one and cal the Iew into the Court
Sal. He is ready at the doore, he comes my Lord.
Enter Shylocke.
Du. Make roome, and let him stand before our face.
Shylocke the world thinkes, and I thinke so to
That thou but leadest this fashion of thy mallice
To the last houre of act, and then 'tis thought
Thou'lt shew thy mercy and remorse more strange,
Than is thy strange apparant cruelty;
And where thou now exact'st the penalty,
Which is a pound of this poore Merchants flesh,
Thou wilt not onely loose the forfeiture,
But touch'd with humane gentlenesse and loue:
Forgiue a moytie of the principall,
Glancing an eye of pitty on his losses
That haue of late so hudled on his backe,
Enow to presse a royall Merchant downe;
And plucke commiseration of his state
From brassie bosomes, and rough hearts of flints,
From stubborne Turkes and Tarters neuer traind
To offices of tender curtesie,
We all expect a gentle answer Iew?
Iew. I haue possest your grace of what I purpose,
And by our holy Sabbath haue I sworne
To haue the due and forfeit of my bond.
If you denie it, let the danger light
Vpon your Charter, and your Cities freedome.
You'l aske me why I rather choose to haue
A weight of carrion flesh, then to receiue
Three thousand Ducats? Ile not answer that:
But say it is my humor; Is it answered?
What if my house be troubled with a Rat,
And I be pleas'd to giue ten thousand Ducates
To haue it bain'd? What, are you answer'd yet?
Some men there are loue not a gaping Pigge:
Some that are mad, if they behold a Cat:
And others, when the bag-pipe sings i'th nose,
Cannot containe their Vrine for affection.
Masters of passion swayes it to the moode
Of what it likes or loaths, now for your answer:
As there is no firme reason to be rendred
Why he cannot abide a gaping Pigge?
Why he a harmlesse necessarie Cat?
Why he a woollen bag-pipe: but of force
Must yeeld to such ineuitable shame,
As to offend himselfe being offended:
So can I giue no reason, nor I will not,
More then a lodg'd hate, and a certaine loathing
I beare Anthonio, that I follow thus
A loosing suite against him? Are you answered?
Bass. This is no answer thou vnfeeling man,
To excuse the currant of thy cruelty
Iew. I am not bound to please thee with my answer
Bass. Do all men kil the things they do not loue?
Iew. Hates any man the thing he would not kill?
Bass. Euerie offence is not a hate at first
Iew. What wouldst thou haue a Serpent sting thee
twice?
Ant. I pray you thinke you question with the Iew:
You may as well go stand vpon the beach,
And bid the maine flood baite his vsuall height,
Or euen as well vse question with the Wolfe,
The Ewe bleate for the Lambe:
You may as well forbid the Mountaine Pines
To wagge their high tops, and to make no noise
When they are fretted with the gusts of heauen:
You may as well do any thing most hard,
As seeke to soften that, then which what harder?
His Iewish heart. Therefore I do beseech you
Make no more offers, vse no farther meanes,
But with all briefe and plaine conueniencie
Let me haue iudgement, and the Iew his will
Bas. For thy three thousand Ducates heere is six
Iew. If euerie Ducat in sixe thousand Ducates
Were in sixe parts, and euery part a Ducate,
I would not draw them, I would haue my bond?
Du. How shalt thou hope for mercie, rendring none?
Iew. What iudgement shall I dread doing no wrong?
You haue among you many a purchast slaue,
Which like your Asses, and your Dogs and Mules,
You vse in abiect and in slauish parts,
Because you bought them. Shall I say to you,
Let them be free, marrie them to your heires?
Why sweate they vnder burthens? Let their beds
Be made as soft as yours: and let their pallats
Be season'd with such Viands: you will answer
The slaues are ours. So do I answer you.
The pound of flesh which I demand of him
Is deerely bought, 'tis mine, and I will haue it.
If you deny me; fie vpon your Law,
There is no force in the decrees of Venice;
I stand for iudgement, answer, Shall I haue it?
Du. Vpon my power I may dismisse this Court,
Vnlesse Bellario a learned Doctor,
Whom I haue sent for to determine this,
Come heere to day
Sal. My Lord, heere stayes without
A Messenger with Letters from the Doctor,
New come from Padua
Du. Bring vs the Letters, Call the Messengers
Bass. Good cheere Anthonio. What man, corage yet:
The Iew shall haue my flesh, blood, bones, and all,
Ere thou shalt loose for me one drop of blood
Ant. I am a tainted Weather of the flocke,
Meetest for death, the weakest kinde of fruite
Drops earliest to the ground, and so let me;
You cannot better be employ'd Bassanio,
Then to liue still, and write mine Epitaph.
Enter Nerrissa.
Du. Came you from Padua from Bellario?
Ner. From both.
My Lord Bellario greets your Grace
Bas. Why dost thou whet thy knife so earnestly?
Iew. To cut the forfeiture from that bankrout there
Gra. Not on thy soale: but on thy soule harsh Iew
Thou mak'st thy knife keene: but no mettall can,
No, not the hangmans Axe beare halfe the keennesse
Of thy sharpe enuy. Can no prayers pierce thee?
Iew. No, none that thou hast wit enough to make
Gra. O be thou damn'd, inexecrable dogge,
And for thy life let iustice be accus'd:
Thou almost mak'st me wauer in my faith;
To hold opinion with Pythagoras,
That soules of Animals infuse themselues
Into the trunkes of men. Thy currish spirit
Gouern'd a Wolfe, who hang'd for humane slaughter,
Euen from the gallowes did his fell soule fleet;
And whil'st thou layest in thy vnhallowed dam,
Infus'd it selfe in thee: For thy desires
Are Woluish, bloody, steru'd, and rauenous
Iew. Till thou canst raile the seale from off my bond
Thou but offend'st thy Lungs to speake so loud:
Repaire thy wit good youth, or it will fall
To endlesse ruine. I stand heere for Law
Du. This Letter from Bellario doth commend
A yong and Learned Doctor in our Court;
Where is he?
Ner. He attendeth heere hard by
To know your answer, whether you'l admit him
Du. With all my heart. Some three or four of you Go giue him curteous conduct to this place, Meane time the Court shall heare Bellarioes Letter. Your Grace shall vnderstand, that at the receite of your Letter I am very sicke: but in the instant that your messenger came, in louing visitation, was with me a yong Doctor of Rome, his name is Balthasar: I acquainted him with the cause in Controuersie, betweene the Iew and Anthonio the Merchant: We turn'd ore many Bookes together: hee is furnished with my opinion, which bettred with his owne learning, the greatnesse whereof I cannot enough commend, comes with him at my importunity, to fill vp your Graces request in my sted. I beseech you, let his lacke of years be no impediment to let him lacke a reuerend estimation: for I neuer knewe so yong a body, with so old a head. I leaue him to your gracious acceptance, whose trial shall better publish his commendation. Enter Portia for Balthazar.
Duke. You heare the learn'd Bellario what he writes,
And heere (I take it) is the Doctor come.
Giue me your hand: Came you from old Bellario?
Por. I did my Lord
Du. You are welcome: take your place;
Are you acquainted with the difference
That holds this present question in the Court
Por. I am enformed throughly of the cause.
Which is the Merchant heere? and which the Iew?
Du. Anthonio and old Shylocke, both stand forth
Por. Is your name Shylocke?
Iew. Shylocke is my name
Por. Of a strange nature is the sute you follow,
Yet in such rule, that the Venetian Law
Cannot impugne you as you do proceed.
You stand within his danger, do you not?
Ant. I, so he sayes
Por. Do you confesse the bond?
Ant. I do
Por. Then must the Iew be mercifull
Iew. On what compulsion must I ? Tell me that
Por. The quality of mercy is not strain'd,
It droppeth as the gentle raine from heauen
Vpon the place beneath. It is twice blest,
It blesseth him that giues, and him that takes,
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest, it becomes
The throned Monarch better then his Crowne.
His Scepter shewes the force of temporall power,
The attribute to awe and Maiestie,
Wherein doth sit the dread and feare of Kings:
But mercy is aboue this sceptred sway,
It is enthroned in the hearts of Kings,
It is an attribute to God himselfe;
And earthly power doth then shew likest Gods
When mercie seasons Iustice. Therefore Iew,
Though Iustice be thy plea, consider this,
That in the course of Iustice, none of vs
Should see saluation: we do pray for mercie,
And that same prayer, doth teach vs all to render
The deeds of mercie. I haue spoke thus much
To mittigate the iustice of thy plea:
Which if thou follow, this strict course of Venice
Must needes giue sentence 'gainst the Merchant there
Shy. My deeds vpon my head, I craue the Law,
The penaltie and forfeite of my bond
Por. Is he not able to discharge the money?
Bas. Yes, heere I tender it for him in the Court,
Yea, twice the summe, if that will not suffice,
I will be bound to pay it ten times ore,
On forfeit of my hands, my head, my heart:
If this will not suffice, it must appeare
That malice beares downe truth. And I beseech you
Wrest once the Law to your authority.
To do a great right, do a little wrong,
And curbe this cruell diuell of his will
Por. It must not be, there is no power in Venice
Can alter a decree established:
'Twill be recorded for a President,
And many an error by the same example,
Will rush into the state: It cannot be
Iew. A Daniel come to iudgement, yea a Daniel.
O wise young Iudge, how do I honour thee
Por. I pray you let me looke vpon the bond
Iew. Heere 'tis most reuerend Doctor, heere it is
Por. Shylocke, there's thrice thy monie offered thee
Shy. An oath, an oath, I haue an oath in heauen:
Shall I lay periurie vpon my soule?
No not for Venice
Por. Why this bond is forfeit,
And lawfully by this the Iew may claime
A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off
Neerest the Merchants heart; be mercifull,
Take thrice thy money, bid me teare the bond
Iew. When it is paid according to the tenure.
It doth appeare you are a worthy Iudge:
You know the Law, your exposition
Hath beene most sound. I charge you by the Law,
Whereof you are a well-deseruing pillar,
Proceede to iudgement: By my soule I sweare,
There is no power in the tongue of man
To alter me: I stay heere on my bond
An. Most heartily I do beseech the Court
To giue the iudgement
Por. Why then thus it is:
You must prepare your bosome for his knife
Iew. O noble Iudge, O excellent yong man
Por. For the intent and purpose of the Law
Hath full relation to the penaltie,
Which heere appeareth due vpon the bond
Iew. 'Tis verie true: O wise and vpright Iudge,
How much more elder art thou then thy lookes?
Por. Therefore lay bare your bosome
Iew. I, his brest,
So sayes the bond, doth it not noble Iudge?
Neerest his heart, those are the very words
Por. It is so: Are there ballance heere to weigh the
flesh?
Iew. I haue them ready
Por. Haue by some Surgeon Shylock on your charge
To stop his wounds, least he should bleede to death
Iew. It is not nominated in the bond?
Por. It is not so exprest: but what of that?
'Twere good you do so much for charitie
Iew. I cannot finde it, 'tis not in the bond
Por. Come Merchant, haue you any thing to say?
Ant. But little: I am arm'd and well prepar'd.
Giue me your hand Bassanio, fare you well.
Greeue not that I am falne to this for you:
For heerein fortune shewes her selfe more kinde
Then is her custome. It is still her vse
To let the wretched man out-liue his wealth,
To view with hollow eye, and wrinkled brow
An age of pouerty. From which lingring penance
Of such miserie, doth she cut me off:
Commend me to your honourable Wife,
Tell her the processe of Anthonio's end:
Say how I lou'd you; speake me faire in death:
And when the tale is told, bid her be iudge,
Whether Bassanio had not once a Loue:
Repent not you that you shall loose your friend,
And he repents not that he payes your debt.
For if the Iew do cut but deepe enough,
Ile pay it instantly, with all my heart
Bas. Anthonio, I am married to a wife,
Which is as deere to me as life it selfe,
But life it selfe, my wife, and all the world,
Are not with me esteem'd aboue thy life.
I would loose all, I sacrifice them all
Heere to this deuill, to deliuer you
Por. Your wife would giue you little thanks for that
If she were by to heare you make the offer
Gra. I haue a wife whom I protest I loue,
I would she were in heauen, so she could
Intreat some power to change this currish Iew
Ner. 'Tis well you offer it behinde her backe,
The wish would make else an vnquiet house
Iew. These be the Christian husbands: I haue a daughter
Would any of the stocke of Barrabas
Had beene her husband, rather then a Christian.
We trifle time, I pray thee pursue sentence
Por. A pound of that same marchants flesh is thine,
The Court awards it, and the law doth giue it
Iew. Most rightfull Iudge
Por. And you must cut this flesh from off his breast,
The Law allowes it, and the Court awards it
Iew. Most learned Iudge, a sentence, come prepare
Por. Tarry a little, there is something else,
This bond doth giue thee heere no iot of bloud,
The words expresly are a pound of flesh:
Then take thy bond, take thou thy pound of flesh,
But in the cutting it, if thou dost shed
One drop of Christian bloud, thy lands and goods
Are by the Lawes of Venice confiscate
Vnto the state of Venice
Gra. O vpright Iudge,
Marke Iew, o learned Iudge
Shy. Is that the law?
Por. Thy selfe shalt see the Act:
For as thou vrgest iustice, be assur'd
Thou shalt haue iustice more then thou desirest
Gra. O learned Iudge, mark Iew, a learned Iudge
Iew. I take this offer then, pay the bond thrice,
And let the Christian goe
Bass. Heere is the money
Por. Soft, the Iew shall haue all iustice, soft, no haste,
He shall haue nothing but the penalty
Gra. O Iew, an vpright Iudge, a learned Iudge
Por. Therefore prepare thee to cut off the flesh,
Shed thou no bloud, nor cut thou lesse nor more
But iust a pound of flesh: if thou tak'st more
Or lesse then a iust pound, be it so much
As makes it light or heauy in the substance,
Or the deuision of the twentieth part
Of one poore scruple, nay if the scale doe turne
But in the estimation of a hayre,
Thou diest, and all thy goods are confiscate
Gra. A second Daniel, a Daniel Iew,
Now infidell I haue thee on the hip
Por. Why doth the Iew pause, take thy forfeiture
Shy. Giue me my principall, and let me goe
Bass. I haue it ready for thee, heere it is
Por. He hath refus'd it in the open Court,
He shall haue meerly iustice and his bond
Gra. A Daniel still say I, a second Daniel,
I thanke thee Iew for teaching me that word
Shy. Shall I not haue barely my principall?
Por. Thou shalt haue nothing but the forfeiture,
To be taken so at thy perill Iew
Shy. Why then the Deuill giue him good of it:
Ile stay no longer question
Por. Tarry Iew,
The Law hath yet another hold on you.
It is enacted in the Lawes of Venice,
If it be proued against an Alien,
That by direct, or indirect attempts
He seeke the life of any Citizen,
The party gainst the which he doth contriue,
Shall seaze one halfe his goods, the other halfe
Comes to the priuie coffer of the State,
And the offenders life lies in the mercy
Of the Duke onely, gainst all other voice.
In which predicament I say thou standst:
For it appeares by manifest proceeding,
That indirectly, and directly to,
Thou hast contriu'd against the very life
Of the defendant: and thou hast incur'd
The danger formerly by me rehearst.
Downe therefore, and beg mercy of the Duke
Gra. Beg that thou maist haue leaue to hang thy selfe,
And yet thy wealth being forfeit to the state,
Thou hast not left the value of a cord,
Therefore thou must be hang'd at the states charge
Duk. That thou shalt see the difference of our spirit,
I pardon thee thy life before thou aske it:
For halfe thy wealth, it is Anthonio's
The other halfe comes to the generall state,
Which humblenesse may driue vnto a fine
Por. I for the state, not for Anthonio
Shy. Nay, take my life and all, pardon not that,
You take my house, when you do take the prop
That doth sustaine my house: you take my life
When you doe take the meanes whereby I liue
Por. What mercy can you render him Anthonio?
Gra. A halter gratis, nothing else for Gods sake
Ant. So please my Lord the Duke, and all the Court
To quit the fine for one halfe of his goods,
I am content: so he will let me haue
The other halfe in vse, to render it
Vpon his death, vnto the Gentleman
That lately stole his daughter.
Two things prouided more, that for this fauour
He presently become a Christian:
The other, that he doe record a gift
Heere in the Court of all he dies possest
Vnto his sonne Lorenzo, and his daughter
Duk. He shall doe this, or else I doe recant
The pardon that I late pronounced heere
Por. Art thou contented Iew? what dost thou say?
Shy. I am content
Por. Clarke, draw a deed of gift
Shy. I pray you giue me leaue to goe from hence,
I am not well, send the deed after me,
And I will signe it
Duke. Get thee gone, but doe it
Gra. In christning thou shalt haue two godfathers,
Had I been iudge, thou shouldst haue had ten more,
To bring thee to the gallowes, not to the font.
Enter.
Du. Sir I intreat you with me home to dinner
Por. I humbly doe desire your Grace of pardon,
I must away this night toward Padua,
And it is meete I presently set forth
Duk. I am sorry that your leysure serues you not:
Anthonio, gratifie this gentleman,
For in my minde you are much bound to him.
Exit Duke and his traine.
Bass. Most worthy gentleman, I and my friend
Haue by your wisedome beene this day acquitted
Of greeuous penalties, in lieu whereof,
Three thousand Ducats due vnto the Iew
We freely cope your curteous paines withall
An. And stand indebted ouer and aboue
In loue and seruice to you euermore
Por. He is well paid that is well satisfied,
And I deliuering you, am satisfied,
And therein doe account my selfe well paid,
My minde was neuer yet more mercinarie.
I pray you know me when we meete againe,
I wish you well, and so I take my leaue
Bass. Deare sir, of force I must attempt you further,
Take some remembrance of vs as a tribute,
Not as fee: grant me two things, I pray you
Not to denie me, and to pardon me
Por. You presse mee farre, and therefore I will yeeld,
Giue me your gloues, Ile weare them for your sake,
And for your loue Ile take this ring from you,
Doe not draw backe your hand, ile take no more,
And you in loue shall not deny me this?
Bass. This ring good sir, alas it is a trifle,
I will not shame my selfe to giue you this
Por. I wil haue nothing else but onely this,
And now methinkes I haue a minde to it
Bas. There's more depends on this then on the valew,
The dearest ring in Venice will I giue you,
And finde it out by proclamation,
Onely for this I pray you pardon me
Por. I see sir you are liberall in offers,
You taught me first to beg, and now me thinkes
You teach me how a beggar should be answer'd
Bas. Good sir, this ring was giuen me by my wife,
And when she put it on, she made me vow
That I should neither sell, nor giue, nor lose it
Por. That scuse serues many men to saue their gifts,
And if your wife be not a mad woman,
And know how well I haue deseru'd this ring,
Shee would not hold out enemy for euer
For giuing it to me: well, peace be with you.
Exeunt.
Ant. My L[ord]. Bassanio, let him haue the ring,
Let his deseruings and my loue withall
Be valued against your wiues commandement
Bass. Goe Gratiano, run and ouer-take him,
Giue him the ring, and bring him if thou canst
Vnto Anthonios house, away, make haste.
Exit Grati.
Come, you and I will thither presently,
And in the morning early will we both
Flie toward Belmont, come Anthonio.
Exeunt.
Enter Portia and Nerrissa.
Por. Enquire the Iewes house out, giue him this deed,
And let him signe it, wee'll away to night,
And be a day before our husbands home:
This deed will be well welcome to Lorenzo.
Enter Gratiano.
Gra. Faire sir, you are well ore-tane:
My L[ord]. Bassanio vpon more aduice,
Hath sent you heere this ring, and doth intreat
Your company at dinner
Por. That cannot be;
His ring I doe accept most thankfully,
And so I pray you tell him: furthermore,
I pray you shew my youth old Shylockes house
Gra. That will I doe
Ner. Sir, I would speake with you:
Ile see if I can get my husbands ring
Which I did make him sweare to keepe for euer
Por. Thou maist I warrant, we shal haue old swearing
That they did giue the rings away to men;
But weele out-face them, and out-sweare them to:
Away, make haste, thou know'st where I will tarry
Ner. Come good sir, will you shew me to this house.
Exeunt.
Actus Quintus.
Enter Lorenzo and Iessica.
Lor. The moone shines bright. In such a night as this,
When the sweet winde did gently kisse the trees,
And they did make no noyse, in such a night
Troylus me thinkes mounted the Troian walls,
And sigh'd his soule toward the Grecian tents
Where Cressed lay that night
Ies. In such a night
Did Thisbie fearefully ore-trip the dewe,
And saw the Lyons shadow ere himselfe,
And ranne dismayed away
Loren. In such a night
Stood Dido with a Willow in her hand
Vpon the wilde sea bankes, and waft her Loue
To come againe to Carthage
Ies. In such a night
Medea gathered the inchanted hearbs
That did renew old Eson
Loren. In such a night
Did Iessica steale from the wealthy Iewe,
And with an Vnthrift Loue did runne from Venice,
As farre as Belmont
Ies. In such a night
Did young Lorenzo sweare he lou'd her well,
Stealing her soule with many vowes of faith,
And nere a true one
Loren. In such a night
Did pretty Iessica (like a little shrow)
Slander her Loue, and he forgaue it her
Iessi. I would out-night you did no body come:
But harke, I heare the footing of a man.
Enter Messenger.
Lor. Who comes so fast in silence of the night?
Mes. A friend
Loren. A friend, what friend? your name I pray you friend?
Mes. Stephano is my name, and I bring word
My Mistresse will before the breake of day
Be heere at Belmont, she doth stray about
By holy crosses where she kneeles and prayes
For happy wedlocke houres
Loren. Who comes with her?
Mes. None but a holy Hermit and her maid:
I pray you is my Master yet return'd?
Loren. He is not, nor we haue not heard from him,
But goe we in I pray thee Iessica,
And ceremoniously let vs prepare
Some welcome for the Mistresse of the house,
Enter Clowne.
Clo. Sola, sola: wo ha ho, sola, sola
Loren. Who calls?
Clo. Sola, did you see M[aster]. Lorenzo, & M[aster]. Lorenzo,
sola,
Lor. Leaue hollowing man, heere
Clo. Sola, where, where?
Lor. Heere?
Clo. Tel him ther's a Post come from my Master, with
his horne full of good newes, my Master will be here ere
morning sweete soule
Loren. Let's in, and there expect their comming.
And yet no matter: why should we goe in?
My friend Stephen, signifie pray you
Within the house, your Mistresse is at hand,
And bring your musique foorth into the ayre.
How sweet the moone-light sleepes vpon this banke,
Heere will we sit, and let the sounds of musicke
Creepe in our eares soft stilnes, and the night
Become the tutches of sweet harmonie:
Sit Iessica, looke how the floore of heauen
Is thicke inlayed with pattens of bright gold,
There's not the smallest orbe which thou beholdst
But in his motion like an Angell sings,
Still quiring to the young eyed Cherubins;
Such harmonie is in immortall soules,
But whilst this muddy vesture of decay
Doth grosly close in it, we cannot heare it:
Come hoe, and wake Diana with a hymne,
With sweetest tutches pearce your Mistresse eare,
And draw her home with musicke
Iessi. I am neuer merry when I heare sweet musique.
Play musicke.
Lor. The reason is, your spirits are attentiue:
For doe but note a wilde and wanton heard
Or race of youthful and vnhandled colts,
Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud,
Which is the hot condition of their bloud,
If they but heare perchance a trumpet sound,
Or any ayre of musicke touch their eares,
You shall perceiue them make a mutuall stand,
Their sauage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze,
By the sweet power of musicke: therefore the Poet
Did faine that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods.
Since naught so stockish, hard, and full of rage,
But musicke for time doth change his nature,
The man that hath no musicke in himselfe,
Nor is not moued with concord of sweet sounds,
Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoyles,
The motions of his spirit are dull as night,
And his affections darke as Erobus,
Let no such man be trusted: marke the musicke.
Enter Portia and Nerrissa.
Por. That light we see is burning in my hall:
How farre that little candell throwes his beames,
So shines a good deed in a naughty world
Ner. When the moone shone we did not see the candle?
Por. So doth the greater glory dim the lesse,
A substitute shines brightly as a King
Vntill a King be by, and then his state
Empties it selfe, as doth an inland brooke
Into the maine of waters: musique, harke.
Musicke.
Ner. It is your musicke Madame of the house
Por. Nothing is good I see without respect,
Methinkes it sounds much sweeter then by day?
Ner. Silence bestowes that vertue on it Madam
Por. The Crow doth sing as sweetly as the Larke
When neither is attended: and I thinke
The Nightingale if she should sing by day
When euery Goose is cackling, would be thought
No better a Musitian then the Wren?
How many things by season, season'd are
To their right praise, and true perfection:
Peace, how the Moone sleepes with Endimion,
And would not be awak'd.
Musicke ceases.
Lor. That is the voice,
Or I am much deceiu'd of Portia
Por. He knowes me as the blinde man knowes the
Cuckow by the bad voice?
Lor. Deere Lady welcome home?
Por. We haue bene praying for our husbands welfare
Which speed we hope the better for our words,
Are they return'd?
Lor. Madam, they are not yet:
But there is come a Messenger before
To signifie their comming
Por. Go in Nerrissa,
Giue order to my seruants, that they take
No note at all of our being absent hence,
Nor you Lorenzo, Iessica nor you.
A Tucket sounds.
Lor. Your husband is at hand, I heare his Trumpet,
We are no tell-tales Madam, feare you not
Por. This night methinkes is but the daylight sicke,
It lookes a little paler, 'tis a day,
Such as the day is, when the Sun is hid.
Enter Bassanio, Anthonio, Gratiano, and their Followers.
Bas. We should hold day with the Antipodes,
If you would walke in absence of the sunne
Por. Let me giue light, but let me not be light,
For a light wife doth make a heauie husband,
And neuer be Bassanio so for me,
But God sort all: you are welcome home my Lord
Bass. I thanke you Madam, giue welcom to my friend
This is the man, this is Anthonio,
To whom I am so infinitely bound
Por. You should in all sence be much bound to him,
For as I heare he was much bound for you
Anth. No more then I am wel acquitted of
Por. Sir, you are verie welcome to our house:
It must appeare in other waies then words,
Therefore I scant this breathing curtesie
Gra. By yonder Moone I sweare you do me wrong,
Infaith I gaue it to the Iudges Clearke,
Would he were gelt that had it for my part,
Since you do take it Loue so much at hart
Por. A quarrel hoe alreadie, what's the matter?
Gra. About a hoope of Gold, a paltry Ring
That she did giue me, whose Poesie was
For all the world like Cutlers Poetry
Vpon a knife; Loue mee, and leaue mee not
Ner. What talke you of the Poesie or the valew:
You swore to me when I did giue it you,
That you would weare it til the houre of death,
And that it should lye with you in your graue,
Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths,
You should haue beene respectiue and haue kept it.
Gaue it a Iudges Clearke: but wel I know
The Clearke wil nere weare haire on's face that had it
Gra. He wil, and if he liue to be a man
Nerrissa. I, if a Woman liue to be a man
Gra. Now by this hand I gaue it to a youth,
A kinde of boy, a little scrubbed boy,
No higher then thy selfe, the Iudges Clearke,
A prating boy that begg'd it as a Fee,
I could not for my heart deny it him
Por. You were too blame, I must be plaine with you,
To part so slightly with your wiues first gift,
A thing stucke on with oathes vpon your finger,
And so riueted with faith vnto your flesh.
I gaue my Loue a Ring, and made him sweare
Neuer to part with it, and heere he stands:
I dare be sworne for him, he would not leaue it,
Nor plucke it from his finger, for the wealth
That the world masters. Now in faith Gratiano,
You giue your wife too vnkinde a cause of greefe,
And 'twere to me I should be mad at it
Bass. Why I were best to cut my left hand off,
And sweare I lost the Ring defending it
Gra. My Lord Bassanio gaue his Ring away
Vnto the Iudge that beg'd it, and indeede
Deseru'd it too: and then the Boy his Clearke
That tooke some paines in writing, he begg'd mine,
And neyther man nor master would take ought
But the two Rings
Por. What Ring gaue you my Lord?
Not that I hope which you receiu'd of me
Bass. If I could adde a lie vnto a fault,
I would deny it: but you see my finger
Hath not the Ring vpon it, it is gone
Por. Euen so voide is your false heart of truth.
By heauen I wil nere come in your bed
Vntil I see the Ring
Ner. Nor I in yours, til I againe see mine
Bass. Sweet Portia,
If you did know to whom I gaue the Ring,
If you did know for whom I gaue the Ring,
And would conceiue for what I gaue the Ring,
And how vnwillingly I left the Ring,
When nought would be accepted but the Ring,
You would abate the strength of your displeasure?
Por. If you had knowne the vertue of the Ring,
Or halfe her worthinesse that gaue the Ring,
Or your owne honour to containe the Ring,
You would not then haue parted with the Ring:
What man is there so much vnreasonable,
If you had pleas'd to haue defended it
With any termes of Zeale: wanted the modestie
To vrge the thing held as a ceremonie:
Nerrissa teaches me what to beleeue,
Ile die for't, but some Woman had the Ring?
Bass. No by mine honor Madam, by my soule
No Woman had it, but a ciuill Doctor,
Which did refuse three thousand Ducates of me,
And beg'd the Ring; the which I did denie him,
And suffer'd him to go displeas'd away:
Euen he that had held vp the verie life
Of my deere friend. What should I say sweete Lady?
I was inforc'd to send it after him,
I was beset with shame and curtesie,
My honor would not let ingratitude
So much besmeare it. Pardon me good Lady,
And by these blessed Candles of the night,
Had you bene there, I thinke you would haue beg'd
The Ring of me, to giue the worthie Doctor?
Por. Let not that Doctor ere come neere my house,
Since he hath got the iewell that I loued,
And that which you did sweare to keepe for me,
I will become as liberall as you,
Ile not deny him any thing I haue,
No, not my body, nor my husbands bed:
Know him I shall, I am well sure of it.
Lie not a night from home. Watch me like Argos,
If you doe not, if I be left alone,
Now by mine honour which is yet mine owne,
Ile haue the Doctor for my bedfellow
Nerrissa. And I his Clarke: therefore be well aduis'd
How you doe leaue me to mine owne protection
Gra. Well, doe you so: let not me take him then,
For if I doe, ile mar the yong Clarks pen
Ant. I am th' vnhappy subiect of these quarrels
Por. Sir, grieue not you,
You are welcome notwithstanding
Bas. Portia, forgiue me this enforced wrong,
And in the hearing of these manie friends
I sweare to thee, euen by thine owne faire eyes
Wherein I see my selfe
Por. Marke you but that?
In both my eyes he doubly sees himselfe:
In each eye one, sweare by your double selfe,
And there's an oath of credit
Bas. Nay, but heare me.
Pardon this fault, and by my soule I sweare
I neuer more will breake an oath with thee
Anth. I once did lend my bodie for thy wealth,
Which but for him that had your husbands ring
Had quite miscarried. I dare be bound againe,
My soule vpon the forfeit, that your Lord
Will neuer more breake faith aduisedlie
Por. Then you shall be his suretie: giue him this,
And bid him keepe it better then the other
Ant. Heere Lord Bassanio, swear to keep this ring
Bass. By heauen it is the same I gaue the Doctor
Por. I had it of him: pardon Bassanio,
For by this ring the Doctor lay with me
Ner. And pardon me my gentle Gratiano,
For that same scrubbed boy the Doctors Clarke
In liew of this, last night did lye with me
Gra. Why this is like the mending of high waies
In Sommer, where the waies are faire enough:
What, are we Cuckolds ere we haue deseru'd it
Por. Speake not so grossely, you are all amaz'd;
Heere is a letter, reade it at your leysure,
It comes from Padua from Bellario,
There you shall finde that Portia was the Doctor,
Nerrissa there her Clarke. Lorenzo heere
Shall witnesse I set forth as soone as you,
And but eu'n now return'd: I haue not yet
Entred my house. Anthonio you are welcome,
And I haue better newes in store for you
Then you expect: vnseale this letter soone,
There you shall finde three of your Argosies
Are richly come to harbour sodainlie.
You shall not know by what strange accident
I chanced on this letter
Antho. I am dumbe
Bass. Were you the Doctor, and I knew you not?
Gra. Were you the Clark that is to make me cuckold
Ner. I, but the Clark that neuer meanes to doe it,
Vnlesse he liue vntill he be a man
Bass. (Sweet Doctor) you shall be my bedfellow,
When I am absent, then lie with my wife
An. (Sweet Ladie) you haue giuen me life & liuing;
For heere I reade for certaine that my ships
Are safelie come to Rode
Por. How now Lorenzo?
My Clarke hath some good comforts to for you
Ner. I, and Ile giue them him without a fee.
There doe I giue to you and Iessica
From the rich Iewe, a speciall deed of gift
After his death, of all he dies possess'd of
Loren. Faire Ladies you drop Manna in the way
Of starued people
Por. It is almost morning,
And yet I am sure you are not satisfied
Of these euents at full. Let vs goe in,
And charge vs there vpon intergatories,
And we will answer all things faithfully
Gra. Let it be so, the first intergatory
That my Nerrissa shall be sworne on, is,
Whether till the next night she had rather stay,
Or goe to bed, now being two houres to day,
But were the day come, I should wish it darke,
Till I were couching with the Doctors Clarke.
Well, while I liue, Ile feare no other thing
So sore, as keeping safe Nerrissas ring.
Exeunt.
FINIS. The Merchant of Venice.
As you Like it
Actus primus. Scoena Prima.
Enter Orlando and Adam.
Orlando. As I remember Adam, it was vpon this fashion bequeathed me by will, but poore a thousand Crownes, and as thou saist, charged my brother on his blessing to breed mee well: and there begins my sadnesse: My brother Iaques he keepes at schoole, and report speakes goldenly of his profit: for my part, he keepes me rustically at home, or (to speak more properly) staies me heere at home vnkept: for call you that keeping for a gentleman of my birth, that differs not from the stalling of an Oxe? his horses are bred better, for besides that they are faire with their feeding, they are taught their mannage, and to that end Riders deerely hir'd: but I (his brother) gaine nothing vnder him but growth, for the which his Animals on his dunghils are as much bound to him as I: besides this nothing that he so plentifully giues me, the something that nature gaue mee, his countenance seemes to take from me: hee lets mee feede with his Hindes, barres mee the place of a brother, and as much as in him lies, mines my gentility with my education. This is it Adam that grieues me, and the spirit of my Father, which I thinke is within mee, begins to mutinie against this seruitude. I will no longer endure it, though yet I know no wise remedy how to auoid it. Enter Oliuer.
Adam. Yonder comes my Master, your brother
Orlan. Goe a-part Adam, and thou shalt heare how
he will shake me vp
Oli. Now Sir, what make you heere?
Orl. Nothing: I am not taught to make any thing
Oli. What mar you then sir?
Orl. Marry sir, I am helping you to mar that which
God made, a poore vnworthy brother of yours with
idlenesse
Oliuer. Marry sir be better employed, and be naught
a while
Orlan. Shall I keepe your hogs, and eat huskes with
them? what prodigall portion haue I spent, that I should
come to such penury?
Oli. Know you where you are sir?
Orl. O sir, very well: heere in your Orchard
Oli. Know you before whom sir? Orl. I, better then him I am before knowes mee: I know you are my eldest brother, and in the gentle condition of bloud you should so know me: the courtesie of nations allowes you my better, in that you are the first borne, but the same tradition takes not away my bloud, were there twenty brothers betwixt vs: I haue as much of my father in mee, as you, albeit I confesse your comming before me is neerer to his reuerence
Oli. What Boy
Orl. Come, come elder brother, you are too yong in this
Oli. Wilt thou lay hands on me villaine? Orl. I am no villaine: I am the yongest sonne of Sir Rowland de Boys, he was my father, and he is thrice a villaine that saies such a father begot villaines: wert thou not my brother, I would not take this hand from thy throat, till this other had puld out thy tongue for saying so, thou hast raild on thy selfe
Adam. Sweet Masters bee patient, for your Fathers remembrance, be at accord
Oli. Let me goe I say
Orl. I will not till I please: you shall heare mee: my father charg'd you in his will to giue me good education: you haue train'd me like a pezant, obscuring and hiding from me all gentleman-like qualities: the spirit of my father growes strong in mee, and I will no longer endure it: therefore allow me such exercises as may become a gentleman, or giue mee the poore allottery my father left me by testament, with that I will goe buy my fortunes
Oli. And what wilt thou do? beg when that is spent? Well sir, get you in. I will not long be troubled with you: you shall haue some part of your will, I pray you leaue me
Orl. I will no further offend you, then becomes mee for my good
Oli. Get you with him, you olde dogge
Adam. Is old dogge my reward: most true, I haue lost my teeth in your seruice: God be with my olde master, he would not haue spoke such a word.
Ex. Orl. Ad.
Oli. Is it euen so, begin you to grow vpon me? I will physicke your ranckenesse, and yet giue no thousand crownes neyther: holla Dennis. Enter Dennis.
Den. Calls your worship?
Oli. Was not Charles the Dukes Wrastler heere to
speake with me?
Den. So please you, he is heere at the doore, and importunes
accesse to you
Oli. Call him in: 'twill be a good way: and to morrow
the wrastling is.
Enter Charles.
Cha. Good morrow to your worship
Oli. Good Mounsier Charles: what's the new newes at the new Court? Charles. There's no newes at the Court Sir, but the olde newes: that is, the old Duke is banished by his yonger brother the new Duke, and three or foure louing Lords haue put themselues into voluntary exile with him, whose lands and reuenues enrich the new Duke, therefore he giues them good leaue to wander
Oli. Can you tell if Rosalind the Dukes daughter bee banished with her Father? Cha. O no; for the Dukes daughter her Cosen so loues her, being euer from their Cradles bred together, that hee would haue followed her exile, or haue died to stay behind her; she is at the Court, and no lesse beloued of her Vncle, then his owne daughter, and neuer two Ladies loued as they doe
Oli. Where will the old Duke liue? Cha. They say hee is already in the Forrest of Arden, and a many merry men with him; and there they liue like the old Robin Hood of England: they say many yong Gentlemen flocke to him euery day, and fleet the time carelesly as they did in the golden world
Oli. What, you wrastle to morrow before the new
Duke
Cha. Marry doe I sir: and I came to acquaint you with a matter: I am giuen sir secretly to vnderstand, that your yonger brother Orlando hath a disposition to come in disguis'd against mee to try a fall: to morrow sir I wrastle for my credit, and hee that escapes me without some broken limbe, shall acquit him well: your brother is but young and tender, and for your loue I would bee loth to foyle him, as I must for my owne honour if hee come in: therefore out of my loue to you, I came hither to acquaint you withall, that either you might stay him from his intendment, or brooke such disgrace well as he shall runne into, in that it is a thing of his owne search, and altogether against my will
Oli. Charles , I thanke thee for thy loue to me, which thou shalt finde I will most kindly requite: I had my selfe notice of my Brothers purpose heerein, and haue by vnder-hand meanes laboured to disswade him from it; but he is resolute. Ile tell thee Charles, it is the stubbornest yong fellow of France, full of ambition, an enuious emulator of euery mans good parts, a secret & villanous contriuer against mee his naturall brother: therefore vse thy discretion, I had as liefe thou didst breake his necke as his finger. And thou wert best looke to't; for if thou dost him any slight disgrace, or if hee doe not mightilie grace himselfe on thee, hee will practise against thee by poyson, entrap thee by some treacherous deuise, and neuer leaue thee till he hath tane thy life by some indirect meanes or other: for I assure thee, (and almost with teares I speake it) there is not one so young, and so villanous this day liuing. I speake but brotherly of him, but should I anathomize him to thee, as hee is, I must blush, and weepe, and thou must looke pale and wonder
Cha. I am heartily glad I came hither to you: if hee come to morrow, Ile giue him his payment: if euer hee goe alone againe, Ile neuer wrastle for prize more: and so God keepe your worship. Enter.
Farewell good Charles. Now will I stirre this Gamester: I hope I shall see an end of him; for my soule (yet I know not why) hates nothing more then he: yet hee's gentle, neuer school'd, and yet learned, full of noble deuise, of all sorts enchantingly beloued, and indeed so much in the heart of the world, and especially of my owne people, who best know him, that I am altogether misprised: but it shall not be so long, this wrastler shall cleare all: nothing remaines, but that I kindle the boy thither, which now Ile goe about. Enter.
Scoena Secunda.
Enter Rosalind, and Cellia.
Cel. I pray thee Rosalind, sweet my Coz, be merry
Ros. Deere Cellia; I show more mirth then I am mistresse of, and would you yet were merrier: vnlesse you could teach me to forget a banished father, you must not learne mee how to remember any extraordinary pleasure
Cel. Heerein I see thou lou'st mee not with the full waight that I loue thee; if my Vncle thy banished father had banished thy Vncle the Duke my Father, so thou hadst beene still with mee, I could haue taught my loue to take thy father for mine; so wouldst thou, if the truth of thy loue to me were so righteously temper'd, as mine is to thee
Ros. Well, I will forget the condition of my estate, to reioyce in yours
Cel. You know my Father hath no childe, but I, nor none is like to haue; and truely when he dies, thou shalt be his heire; for what hee hath taken away from thy father perforce, I will render thee againe in affection: by mine honor I will, and when I breake that oath, let mee turne monster: therefore my sweet Rose, my deare Rose, be merry
Ros. From henceforth I will Coz, and deuise sports: let me see, what thinke you of falling in Loue? Cel. Marry I prethee doe, to make sport withall: but loue no man in good earnest, nor no further in sport neyther, then with safety of a pure blush, thou maist in honor come off againe
Ros. What shall be our sport then?
Cel. Let vs sit and mocke the good houswife Fortune
from her wheele, that her gifts may henceforth bee
bestowed equally
Ros. I would wee could doe so: for her benefits are mightily misplaced, and the bountifull blinde woman doth most mistake in her gifts to women
Cel. 'Tis true, for those that she makes faire, she scarce makes honest, & those that she makes honest, she makes very illfauouredly
Ros. Nay now thou goest from Fortunes office to Natures:
Fortune reignes in gifts of the world, not in the
lineaments of Nature.
Enter Clowne.
Cel. No; when Nature hath made a faire creature, may she not by Fortune fall into the fire? though nature hath giuen vs wit to flout at Fortune, hath not Fortune sent in this foole to cut off the argument? Ros. Indeed there is fortune too hard for nature, when fortune makes natures naturall, the cutter off of natures witte
Cel. Peraduenture this is not Fortunes work neither, but Natures, who perceiueth our naturall wits too dull to reason of such goddesses, hath sent this Naturall for our whetstone: for alwaies the dulnesse of the foole, is the whetstone of the wits. How now Witte, whether wander you? Clow. Mistresse, you must come away to your father
Cel. Were you made the messenger?
Clo. No by mine honor, but I was bid to come for you
Ros. Where learned you that oath foole?
Clo. Of a certaine Knight, that swore by his Honour
they were good Pan-cakes, and swore by his Honor the
Mustard was naught: Now Ile stand to it, the Pancakes
were naught, and the Mustard was good, and yet was
not the Knight forsworne
Cel. How proue you that in the great heape of your
knowledge?
Ros. I marry, now vnmuzzle your wisedome
Clo. Stand you both forth now: stroke your chinnes,
and sweare by your beards that I am a knaue
Cel. By our beards (if we had them) thou art
Clo. By my knauerie (if I had it) then I were: but if you sweare by that that is not, you are not forsworn: no more was this knight swearing by his Honor, for he neuer had anie; or if he had, he had sworne it away, before euer he saw those Pancakes, or that Mustard
Cel. Prethee, who is't that thou means't?
Clo. One that old Fredericke your Father loues
Ros. My Fathers loue is enough to honor him enough; speake no more of him, you'l be whipt for taxation one of these daies
Clo. The more pittie that fooles may not speak wisely, what Wisemen do foolishly
Cel. By my troth thou saiest true: For, since the little wit that fooles haue was silenced, the little foolerie that wise men haue makes a great shew; Heere comes Monsieur the Beu. Enter le Beau.
Ros. With his mouth full of newes
Cel. Which he will put on vs, as Pigeons feed their young
Ros. Then shal we be newes-cram'd
Cel. All the better: we shalbe the more Marketable.
Boon-iour Monsieur le Beu, what's the newes?
Le Beu. Faire Princesse,
you haue lost much good sport
Cel. Sport: of what colour?
Le Beu. What colour Madame? How shall I aunswer
you?
Ros. As wit and fortune will
Clo. Or as the destinies decrees
Cel. Well said, that was laid on with a trowell
Clo. Nay, if I keepe not my ranke
Ros. Thou loosest thy old smell
Le Beu. You amaze me Ladies: I would haue told you of good wrastling, which you haue lost the sight of
Ros. Yet tell vs the manner of the Wrastling
Le Beu. I wil tell you the beginning: and if it please your Ladiships, you may see the end, for the best is yet to doe, and heere where you are, they are comming to performe it
Cel. Well, the beginning that is dead and buried
Le Beu. There comes an old man, and his three sons
Cel. I could match this beginning with an old tale
Le Beu. Three proper yong men, of excellent growth
and presence
Ros. With bils on their neckes: Be it knowne vnto
all men by these presents
Le Beu. The eldest of the three, wrastled with Charles the Dukes Wrastler, which Charles in a moment threw him, and broke three of his ribbes, that there is little hope of life in him: So he seru'd the second, and so the third: yonder they lie, the poore old man their Father, making such pittiful dole ouer them, that all the beholders take his part with weeping
Ros. Alas
Clo. But what is the sport Monsieur, that the Ladies
haue lost?
Le Beu. Why this that I speake of
Clo. Thus men may grow wiser euery day. It is the first time that euer I heard breaking of ribbes was sport for Ladies
Cel. Or I, I promise thee
Ros. But is there any else longs to see this broken Musicke in his sides? Is there yet another doates vpon rib-breaking? Shall we see this wrastling Cosin? Le Beu. You must if you stay heere, for heere is the place appointed for the wrastling, and they are ready to performe it
Cel. Yonder sure they are comming. Let vs now stay and see it.
Flourish. Enter Duke, Lords, Orlando, Charles, and Attendants.
Duke. Come on, since the youth will not be intreated
His owne perill on his forwardnesse
Ros. Is yonder the man?
Le Beu. Euen he, Madam
Cel. Alas, he is too yong: yet he looks successefully
Du. How now daughter, and Cousin:
Are you crept hither to see the wrastling?
Ros. I my Liege, so please you giue vs leaue
Du. You wil take little delight in it, I can tell you there is such oddes in the man: In pitie of the challengers youth, I would faine disswade him, but he will not bee entreated. Speake to him Ladies, see if you can mooue him
Cel. Call him hether good Monsieuer Le Beu
Duke. Do so: Ile not be by
Le Beu. Monsieur the Challenger, the Princesse cals for you
Orl. I attend them with all respect and dutie
Ros. Young man, haue you challeng'd Charles the
Wrastler?
Orl. No faire Princesse: he is the generall challenger,
I come but in as others do, to try with him the strength
of my youth
Cel. Yong Gentleman, your spirits are too bold for your yeares: you haue seene cruell proofe of this mans strength, if you saw your selfe with your eies, or knew your selfe with your iudgment, the feare of your aduenture would counsel you to a more equall enterprise. We pray you for your owne sake to embrace your own safetie, and giue ouer this attempt
Ros. Do yong Sir, your reputation shall not therefore be misprised: we wil make it our suite to the Duke, that the wrastling might not go forward
Orl. I beseech you, punish mee not with your harde thoughts, wherein I confesse me much guiltie to denie so faire and excellent Ladies anie thing. But let your faire eies, and gentle wishes go with mee to my triall; wherein if I bee foil'd, there is but one sham'd that was neuer gracious: if kil'd, but one dead that is willing to be so: I shall do my friends no wrong, for I haue none to lament me: the world no iniurie, for in it I haue nothing: onely in the world I fil vp a place, which may bee better supplied, when I haue made it emptie
Ros. The little strength that I haue, I would it were with you
Cel. And mine to eeke out hers
Ros. Fare you well: praie heauen I be deceiu'd in you
Cel. Your hearts desires be with you
Char. Come, where is this yong gallant, that is so
desirous to lie with his mother earth?
Orl. Readie Sir, but his will hath in it a more modest
working
Duk. You shall trie but one fall
Cha. No, I warrant your Grace you shall not entreat him to a second, that haue so mightilie perswaded him from a first
Orl. You meane to mocke me after: you should not haue mockt me before: but come your waies
Ros. Now Hercules, be thy speede yong man
Cel. I would I were inuisible, to catch the strong fellow by the legge.
Wrastle.
Ros. Oh excellent yong man
Cel. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eie, I can tell who should downe.
Shout.
Duk. No more, no more
Orl. Yes I beseech your Grace, I am not yet well
breath'd
Duk. How do'st thou Charles?
Le Beu. He cannot speake my Lord
Duk. Beare him awaie:
What is thy name yong man?
Orl. Orlando my Liege, the yongest sonne of Sir Roland
de Boys
Duk. I would thou hadst beene son to some man else,
The world esteem'd thy father honourable,
But I did finde him still mine enemie:
Thou should'st haue better pleas'd me with this deede,
Hadst thou descended from another house:
But fare thee well, thou art a gallant youth,
I would thou had'st told me of another Father.
Exit Duke.
Cel. Were I my Father (Coze) would I do this?
Orl. I am more proud to be Sir Rolands sonne,
His yongest sonne, and would not change that calling
To be adopted heire to Fredricke
Ros. My Father lou'd Sir Roland as his soule,
And all the world was of my Fathers minde,
Had I before knowne this yong man his sonne,
I should haue giuen him teares vnto entreaties,
Ere he should thus haue ventur'd
Cel. Gentle Cosen,
Let vs goe thanke him, and encourage him:
My Fathers rough and enuious disposition
Sticks me at heart: Sir, you haue well deseru'd,
If you doe keepe your promises in loue;
But iustly as you haue exceeded all promise,
Your Mistris shall be happie
Ros. Gentleman,
Weare this for me: one out of suites with fortune
That could giue more, but that her hand lacks meanes.
Shall we goe Coze?
Cel. I: fare you well faire Gentleman
Orl. Can I not say, I thanke you? My better parts
Are all throwne downe, and that which here stands vp
Is but a quintine, a meere liuelesse blocke
Ros. He cals vs back: my pride fell with my fortunes,
Ile aske him what he would: Did you call Sir?
Sir, you haue wrastled well, and ouerthrowne
More then your enemies
Cel. Will you goe Coze?
Ros. Haue with you: fare you well.
Enter.
Orl. What passion hangs these waights vpo[n] my toong?
I cannot speake to her, yet she vrg'd conference.
Enter Le Beu.
O poore Orlando! thou art ouerthrowne
Or Charles, or something weaker masters thee
Le Beu. Good Sir, I do in friendship counsaile you
To leaue this place; Albeit you haue deseru'd
High commendation, true applause, and loue;
Yet such is now the Dukes condition,
That he misconsters all that you haue done:
The Duke is humorous, what he is indeede
More suites you to conceiue, then I to speake of
Orl. I thanke you Sir; and pray you tell me this,
Which of the two was daughter of the Duke,
That here was at the Wrastling?
Le Beu. Neither his daughter, if we iudge by manners,
But yet indeede the taller is his daughter,
The other is daughter to the banish'd Duke,
And here detain'd by her vsurping Vncle
To keepe his daughter companie, whose loues
Are deerer then the naturall bond of Sisters:
But I can tell you, that of late this Duke
Hath tane displeasure 'gainst his gentle Neece,
Grounded vpon no other argument,
But that the people praise her for her vertues,
And pittie her, for her good Fathers sake;
And on my life his malice 'gainst the Lady
Will sodainly breake forth: Sir, fare you well,
Hereafter in a better world then this,
I shall desire more loue and knowledge of you
Orl. I rest much bounden to you: fare you well.
Thus must I from the smoake into the smother,
From tyrant Duke, vnto a tyrant Brother.
But heauenly Rosaline.
Exit
Scena Tertius.
Enter Celia and Rosaline.
Cel. Why Cosen, why Rosaline: Cupid haue mercie,
Not a word?
Ros. Not one to throw at a dog
Cel. No, thy words are too precious to be cast away vpon curs, throw some of them at me; come lame mee with reasons
Ros. Then there were two Cosens laid vp, when the one should be lam'd with reasons, and the other mad without any
Cel. But is all this for your Father?
Ros. No, some of it is for my childes Father: Oh
how full of briers is this working day world
Cel. They are but burs, Cosen, throwne vpon thee in holiday foolerie, if we walke not in the trodden paths our very petty-coates will catch them
Ros. I could shake them off my coate, these burs are in my heart
Cel. Hem them away
Ros. I would try if I could cry hem, and haue him
Cel. Come, come, wrastle with thy affections
Ros. O they take the part of a better wrastler then my selfe
Cel. O, a good wish vpon you: you will trie in time in dispight of a fall: but turning these iests out of seruice, let vs talke in good earnest: Is it possible on such a sodaine, you should fall into so strong a liking with old Sir Roulands yongest sonne? Ros. The Duke my Father lou'd his Father deerelie
Cel. Doth it therefore ensue that you should loue his Sonne deerelie? By this kinde of chase, I should hate him, for my father hated his father deerely; yet I hate not Orlando
Ros. No faith, hate him not for my sake
Cel. Why should I not? doth he not deserue well?
Enter Duke with Lords.
Ros. Let me loue him for that, and do you loue him
Because I doe. Looke, here comes the Duke
Cel. With his eies full of anger
Duk. Mistris, dispatch you with your safest haste,
And get you from our Court
Ros. Me Vncle
Duk. You Cosen,
Within these ten daies if that thou beest found
So neere our publike Court as twentie miles,
Thou diest for it
Ros. I doe beseech your Grace
Let me the knowledge of my fault beare with me:
If with my selfe I hold intelligence,
Or haue acquaintance with mine owne desires,
If that I doe not dreame, or be not franticke,
(As I doe trust I am not) then deere Vncle,
Neuer so much as in a thought vnborne,
Did I offend your highnesse
Duk. Thus doe all Traitors,
If their purgation did consist in words,
They are as innocent as grace it selfe;
Let is suffice thee that I trust thee not
Ros. Yet your mistrust cannot make me a Traitor;
Tell me whereon the likelihoods depends?
Duk. Thou art thy Fathers daughter, there's enough
Ros. So was I when your highnes took his Dukdome,
So was I when your highnesse banisht him;
Treason is not inherited my Lord,
Or if we did deriue it from our friends,
What's that to me, my Father was no Traitor,
Then good my Leige, mistake me not so much,
To thinke my pouertie is treacherous
Cel. Deere Soueraigne heare me speake
Duk. I Celia, we staid her for your sake,
Else had she with her Father rang'd along
Cel. I did not then intreat to haue her stay,
It was your pleasure, and your owne remorse,
I was too yong that time to value her,
But now I know her: if she be a Traitor,
Why so am I: we still haue slept together,
Rose at an instant, learn'd, plaid, eate together,
And wheresoere we went, like Iunos Swans,
Still we went coupled and inseperable
Duk. She is too subtile for thee, and her smoothnes;
Her verie silence, and her patience,
Speake to the people, and they pittie her:
Thou art a foole, she robs thee of thy name,
And thou wilt show more bright, & seem more vertuous
When she is gone: then open not thy lips
Firme, and irreuocable is my doombe,
Which I haue past vpon her, she is banish'd
Cel. Pronounce that sentence then on me my Leige,
I cannot liue out of her companie
Duk. You are a foole: you Neice prouide your selfe,
If you out-stay the time, vpon mine honor,
And in the greatnesse of my word you die.
Exit Duke, &c.
Cel. O my poore Rosaline, whether wilt thou goe?
Wilt thou change Fathers? I will giue thee mine:
I charge thee be not thou more grieu'd then I am
Ros. I haue more cause
Cel. Thou hast not Cosen,
Prethee be cheerefull; know'st thou not the Duke
Hath banish'd me his daughter?
Ros. That he hath not
Cel. No, hath not? Rosaline lacks then the loue
Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one,
Shall we be sundred? shall we part sweete girle?
No, let my Father seeke another heire:
Therefore deuise with me how we may flie
Whether to goe, and what to beare with vs,
And doe not seeke to take your change vpon you,
To beare your griefes your selfe, and leaue me out:
For by this heauen, now at our sorrowes pale;
Say what thou canst, Ile goe along with thee
Ros. Why, whether shall we goe?
Cel. To seeke my Vncle in the Forrest of Arden
Ros. Alas, what danger will it be to vs,
(Maides as we are) to trauell forth so farre?
Beautie prouoketh theeues sooner then gold
Cel. Ile put my selfe in poore and meane attire,
And with a kinde of vmber smirch my face,
The like doe you, so shall we passe along,
And neuer stir assailants
Ros. Were it not better,
Because that I am more then common tall,
That I did suite me all points like a man,
A gallant curtelax vpon my thigh,
A bore-speare in my hand, and in my heart
Lye there what hidden womans feare there will,
Weele haue a swashing and a marshall outside,
As manie other mannish cowards haue,
That doe outface it with their semblances
Cel. What shall I call thee when thou art a man?
Ros. Ile haue no worse a name then Ioues owne Page,
And therefore looke you call me Ganimed.
But what will you be call'd?
Cel. Something that hath a reference to my state:
No longer Celia, but Aliena
Ros. But Cosen, what if we assaid to steale
The clownish Foole out of your Fathers Court:
Would he not be a comfort to our trauaile?
Cel. Heele goe along ore the wide world with me,
Leaue me alone to woe him; Let's away
And get our Iewels and our wealth together,
Deuise the fittest time, and safest way
To hide vs from pursuite that will be made
After my flight: now goe in we content
To libertie, and not to banishment.
Exeunt.
Actus Secundus. Scoena Prima.
Enter Duke Senior: Amyens, and two or three Lords like
Forresters.
Duk.Sen. Now my Coe-mates, and brothers in exile:
Hath not old custome made this life more sweete
Then that of painted pompe? Are not these woods
More free from perill then the enuious Court?
Heere feele we not the penaltie of Adam,
The seasons difference, as the Icie phange
And churlish chiding of the winters winde,
Which when it bites and blowes vpon my body
Euen till I shrinke with cold, I smile, and say
This is no flattery: these are counsellors
That feelingly perswade me what I am:
Sweet are the vses of aduersitie
Which like the toad, ougly and venemous,
Weares yet a precious Iewell in his head:
And this our life exempt from publike haunt,
Findes tongues in trees, bookes in the running brookes,
Sermons in stones, and good in euery thing
Amien. I would not change it, happy is your Grace
That can translate the stubbornnesse of fortune
Into so quiet and so sweet a stile
Du.Sen. Come, shall we goe and kill vs venison?
And yet it irkes me the poore dapled fooles
Being natiue Burgers of this desert City,
Should in their owne confines with forked heads
Haue their round hanches goard
1.Lord. Indeed my Lord
The melancholy Iaques grieues at that,
And in that kinde sweares you doe more vsurpe
Then doth your brother that hath banish'd you:
To day my Lord of Amiens, and my selfe,
Did steale behinde him as he lay along
Vnder an oake, whose anticke roote peepes out
Vpon the brooke that brawles along this wood,
To the which place a poore sequestred Stag
That from the Hunters aime had tane a hurt,
Did come to languish; and indeed my Lord
The wretched annimall heau'd forth such groanes
That their discharge did stretch his leatherne coat
Almost to bursting, and the big round teares
Cours'd one another downe his innocent nose
In pitteous chase: and thus the hairie foole,
Much marked of the melancholie Iaques,
Stood on th' extremest verge of the swift brooke,
Augmenting it with teares
Du.Sen. But what said Iaques?
Did he not moralize this spectacle?
1.Lord. O yes, into a thousand similies.
First, for his weeping into the needlesse streame;
Poore Deere quoth he, thou mak'st a testament
As worldlings doe, giuing thy sum of more
To that which had too much: then being there alone,
Left and abandoned of his veluet friend;
'Tis right quoth he, thus miserie doth part
The Fluxe of companie: anon a carelesse Heard
Full of the pasture, iumps along by him
And neuer staies to greet him: I quoth Iaques,
Sweepe on you fat and greazie Citizens,
'Tis iust the fashion; wherefore doe you looke
Vpon that poore and broken bankrupt there?
Thus most inuectiuely he pierceth through
The body of Countrie, Citie, Court,
Yea, and of this our life, swearing that we
Are meere vsurpers, tyrants, and whats worse
To fright the Annimals, and to kill them vp
In their assign'd and natiue dwelling place
D.Sen. And did you leaue him in this contemplation?
2.Lord. We did my Lord, weeping and commenting
Vpon the sobbing Deere
Du.Sen. Show me the place,
I loue to cope him in these sullen fits,
For then he's full of matter
1.Lor. Ile bring you to him strait.
Exeunt.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Duke, with Lords.
Duk. Can it be possible that no man saw them?
It cannot be, some villaines of my Court
Are of consent and sufferance in this
1.Lo. I cannot heare of any that did see her,
The Ladies her attendants of her chamber
Saw her a bed, and in the morning early,
They found the bed vntreasur'd of their Mistris
2.Lor. My Lord, the roynish Clown, at whom so oft,
Your Grace was wont to laugh is also missing,
Hisperia the Princesse Gentlewoman
Confesses that she secretly ore-heard
Your daughter and her Cosen much commend
The parts and graces of the Wrastler
That did but lately foile the synowie Charles,
And she beleeues where euer they are gone
That youth is surely in their companie
Duk. Send to his brother, fetch that gallant hither,
If he be absent, bring his Brother to me,
Ile make him finde him: do this sodainly;
And let not search and inquisition quaile,
To bring againe these foolish runawaies.
Exeunt.
Scena Tertia.
Enter Orlando and Adam.
Orl. Who's there?
Ad. What my yong Master, oh my gentle master,
Oh my sweet master, O you memorie
Of old Sir Rowland; why, what make you here?
Why are you vertuous? Why do people loue you?
And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and valiant?
Why would you be so fond to ouercome
The bonnie priser of the humorous Duke?
Your praise is come too swiftly home before you.
Know you not Master, to seeme kinde of men,
Their graces serue them but as enemies,
No more doe yours: your vertues gentle Master
Are sanctified and holy traitors to you:
Oh what a world is this, when what is comely
Enuenoms him that beares it?
Why, what's the matter?
Ad. O vnhappie youth,
Come not within these doores: within this roofe
The enemie of all your graces liues
Your brother, no, no brother, yet the sonne
(Yet not the son, I will not call him son)
Of him I was about to call his Father,
Hath heard your praises, and this night he meanes,
To burne the lodging where you vse to lye,
And you within it: if he faile of that
He will haue other meanes to cut you off;
I ouerheard him: and his practises:
This is no place, this house is but a butcherie;
Abhorre it, feare it, doe not enter it
Ad. Why whether Adam would'st thou haue me go?
Ad. No matter whether, so you come not here
Orl. What, would'st thou haue me go & beg my food,
Or with a base and boistrous Sword enforce
A theeuish liuing on the common rode?
This I must do, or know not what to do:
Yet this I will not do, do how I can,
I rather will subiect me to the malice
Of a diuerted blood, and bloudie brother
Ad. But do not so: I haue fiue hundred Crownes,
The thriftie hire I saued vnder your Father,
Which I did store to be my foster Nurse,
When seruice should in my old limbs lie lame,
And vnregarded age in corners throwne,
Take that, and he that doth the Rauens feede,
Yea prouidently caters for the Sparrow,
Be comfort to my age: here is the gold,
All this I giue you, let me be your seruant,
Though I looke old, yet I am strong and lustie;
For in my youth I neuer did apply
Hot, and rebellious liquors in my bloud,
Nor did not with vnbashfull forehead woe,
The meanes of weaknesse and debilitie,
Therefore my age is as a lustie winter,
Frostie, but kindely; let me goe with you,
Ile doe the seruice of a yonger man
In all your businesse and necessities
Orl. Oh good old man, how well in thee appeares
The constant seruice of the antique world,
When seruice sweate for dutie, not for meede:
Thou art not for the fashion of these times,
Where none will sweate, but for promotion,
And hauing that do choake their seruice vp,
Euen with the hauing, it is not so with thee:
But poore old man, thou prun'st a rotten tree,
That cannot so much as a blossome yeelde,
In lieu of all thy paines and husbandrie,
But come thy waies, weele goe along together,
And ere we haue thy youthfull wages spent,
Weele light vpon some setled low content
Ad. Master goe on, and I will follow thee
To the last gaspe with truth and loyaltie,
From seauentie yeeres, till now almost fourescore
Here liued I, but now liue here no more
At seauenteene yeeres, many their fortunes seeke
But at fourescore, it is too late a weeke,
Yet fortune cannot recompence me better
Then to die well, and not my Masters debter.
Exeunt.
Scena Quarta.
Enter Rosaline for Ganimed, Celia for Aliena, and Clowne, alias
Touchstone.
Ros. O Iupiter, how merry are my spirits?
Clo. I care not for my spirits, if my legges were not
wearie
Ros. I could finde in my heart to disgrace my mans apparell, and to cry like a woman: but I must comfort the weaker vessell, as doublet and hose ought to show it selfe coragious to petty-coate; therefore courage, good Aliena
Cel. I pray you beare with me, I cannot goe no further
Clo. For my part, I had rather beare with you, then beare you: yet I should beare no crosse if I did beare you, for I thinke you haue no money in your purse
Ros. Well, this is the Forrest of Arden
Clo. I, now am I in Arden, the more foole I, when I
was at home I was in a better place, but Trauellers must
be content.
Enter Corin and Siluius.
Ros. I, be so good Touchstone: Look you, who comes
here, a yong man and an old in solemne talke
Cor. That is the way to make her scorne you still
Sil. Oh Corin, that thou knew'st how I do loue her
Cor. I partly guesse: for I haue lou'd ere now
Sil. No Corin, being old, thou canst not guesse,
Though in thy youth thou wast as true a louer
As euer sigh'd vpon a midnight pillow:
But if thy loue were euer like to mine,
As sure I thinke did neuer man loue so:
How many actions most ridiculous,
Hast thou beene drawne to by thy fantasie?
Cor. Into a thousand that I haue forgotten
Sil. Oh thou didst then neuer loue so hartily,
If thou remembrest not the slightest folly,
That euer loue did make thee run into,
Thou hast not lou'd.
Or if thou hast not sat as I doe now,
Wearing thy hearer in thy Mistris praise,
Thou hast not lou'd.
Or if thou hast not broke from companie,
Abruptly as my passion now makes me,
Thou hast not lou'd.
O Phebe, Phebe, Phebe.
Enter.
Ros. Alas poore Shepheard searching of they would,
I haue by hard aduenture found mine owne
Clo. And I mine: I remember when I was in loue, I broke my sword vpon a stone, and bid him take that for comming a night to Iane Smile, and I remember the kissing of her batler, and the Cowes dugs that her prettie chopt hands had milk'd; and I remember the wooing of a peascod instead of her, from whom I tooke two cods, and giuing her them againe, said with weeping teares, weare these for my sake: wee that are true Louers, runne into strange capers; but as all is mortall in nature, so is all nature in loue, mortall in folly
Ros. Thou speak'st wiser then thou art ware of
Clo. Nay, I shall nere be ware of mine owne wit, till
I breake my shins against it
Ros. Ioue, Ioue, this Shepherds passion,
Is much vpon my fashion
Clo. And mine, but it growes something stale with
mee
Cel. I pray you, one of you question yon'd man,
If he for gold will giue vs any foode,
I faint almost to death
Clo. Holla; you Clowne
Ros. Peace foole, he's not thy kinsman
Cor. Who cals?
Clo. Your betters Sir
Cor. Else are they very wretched
Ros. Peace I say; good euen to your friend
Cor. And to you gentle Sir, and to you all
Ros. I prethee Shepheard, if that loue or gold
Can in this desert place buy entertainment,
Bring vs where we may rest our selues, and feed:
Here's a yong maid with trauaile much oppressed,
And faints for succour
Cor. Faire Sir, I pittie her,
And wish for her sake more then for mine owne,
My fortunes were more able to releeue her:
But I am shepheard to another man,
And do not sheere the Fleeces that I graze:
My master is of churlish disposition,
And little wreakes to finde the way to heauen
By doing deeds of hospitalitie.
Besides his Coate, his Flockes, and bounds of feede
Are now on sale, and at our sheep-coat now
By reason of his absence there is nothing
That you will feed on: but what is, come see,
And in my voice most welcome shall you be
Ros. What is he that shall buy his flocke and pasture?
Cor. That yong Swaine that you saw heere but erewhile,
That little cares for buying any thing
Ros. I pray thee, if it stand with honestie,
Buy thou the Cottage, pasture, and the flocke,
And thou shalt haue to pay for it of vs
Cel. And we will mend thy wages:
I like this place, and willingly could
Waste my time in it
Cor. Assuredly the thing is to be sold:
Go with me, if you like vpon report,
The soile, the profit, and this kinde of life,
I will your very faithfull Feeder be,
And buy it with your Gold right sodainly.
Exeunt.
Scena Quinta.
Enter, Amyens, Iaques, & others.
Song.
Vnder the greene wood tree, who loues to lye with mee, And turne his merrie Note, vnto the sweet Birds throte: Come hither, come hither, come hither: Heere shall he see no enemie, But Winter and rough Weather
Iaq. More, more, I pre'thee more
Amy. It will make you melancholly Monsieur Iaques
Iaq. I thanke it: More, I prethee more,
I can sucke melancholly out of a song,
As a Weazel suckes egges: More, I pre'thee more
Amy. My voice is ragged, I know I cannot please
you
Iaq. I do not desire you to please me,
I do desire you to sing:
Come, more, another stanzo: Cal you 'em stanzo's?
Amy. What you wil Monsieur Iaques
Iaq. Nay, I care not for their names, they owe mee
nothing. Wil you sing?
Amy. More at your request, then to please my selfe
Iaq. Well then, if euer I thanke any man, Ile thanke you: but that they cal complement is like th' encounter of two dog-Apes. And when a man thankes me hartily, me thinkes I haue giuen him a penie, and he renders me the beggerly thankes. Come sing; and you that wil not hold your tongues
Amy. Wel, Ile end the song. Sirs, couer the while, the Duke wil drinke vnder this tree; he hath bin all this day to looke you
Iaq. And I haue bin all this day to auoid him:
He is too disputeable for my companie:
I thinke of as many matters as he, but I giue
Heauen thankes, and make no boast of them.
Come, warble, come.
Song. Altogether heere.
Who doth ambition shunne, and loues to liue i'th Sunne: Seeking the food he eates, and pleas'd with what he gets: Come hither, come hither, come hither, Heere shall he see. &c
Iaq. Ile giue you a verse to this note,
That I made yesterday in despight of my Inuention
Amy. And Ile sing it
Amy. Thus it goes.
If it do come to passe, that any man turne Asse:
Leauing his wealth and ease,
A stubborne will to please,
Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame:
Heere shall he see, grosse fooles as he,
And if he will come to me
Amy. What's that Ducdame?
Iaq. 'Tis a Greeke inuocation, to call fools into a circle.
Ile go sleepe if I can: if I cannot, Ile raile against all
the first borne of Egypt
Amy. And Ile go seeke the Duke,
His banket is prepar'd.
Exeunt.
Scena Sexta.
Enter Orlando, & Adam
Adam. Deere Master, I can go no further:
O I die for food. Heere lie I downe,
And measure out my graue. Farwel kinde master
Orl. Why how now Adam? No greater heart in thee:
Liue a little, comfort a little, cheere thy selfe a little.
If this vncouth Forrest yeeld any thing sauage,
I wil either be food for it, or bring it for foode to thee:
Thy conceite is neerer death, then thy powers.
For my sake be comfortable, hold death a while
At the armes end: I wil heere be with thee presently,
And if I bring thee not something to eate,
I wil giue thee leaue to die: but if thou diest
Before I come, thou art a mocker of my labor.
Wel said, thou look'st cheerely,
And Ile be with thee quickly: yet thou liest
In the bleake aire. Come, I wil beare thee
To some shelter, and thou shalt not die
For lacke of a dinner,
If there liue any thing in this Desert.
Cheerely good Adam.
Exeunt.
Scena Septima.
Enter Duke Sen. & Lord, like Out-lawes.
Du.Sen. I thinke he be transform'd into a beast,
For I can no where finde him, like a man
1.Lord. My Lord, he is but euen now gone hence,
Heere was he merry, hearing of a Song
Du.Sen. If he compact of iarres, grow Musicall,
We shall haue shortly discord in the Spheares:
Go seeke him, tell him I would speake with him.
Enter Iaques.
1.Lord. He saues my labor by his owne approach
Du.Sen. Why how now Monsieur, what a life is this
That your poore friends must woe your companie,
What, you looke merrily
Iaq. A Foole, a foole: I met a foole i'th Forrest,
A motley Foole (a miserable world:)
As I do liue by foode, I met a foole,
Who laid him downe, and bask'd him in the Sun,
And rail'd on Lady Fortune in good termes,
In good set termes, and yet a motley foole.
Good morrow foole (quoth I:) no Sir, quoth he,
Call me not foole, till heauen hath sent me fortune,
And then he drew a diall from his poake,
And looking on it, with lacke-lustre eye,
Sayes, very wisely, it is ten a clocke:
Thus we may see (quoth he) how the world wagges:
'Tis but an houre agoe, since it was nine,
And after one houre more, 'twill be eleuen,
And so from houre to houre, we ripe, and ripe,
And then from houre to houre, we rot, and rot,
And thereby hangs a tale. When I did heare
The motley Foole, thus morall on the time,
My Lungs began to crow like Chanticleere,
That Fooles should be so deepe contemplatiue:
And I did laugh, sans intermission
An houre by his diall. Oh noble foole,
A worthy foole: Motley's the onely weare
Du.Sen. What foole is this?
Iaq. O worthie Foole: One that hath bin a Courtier
And sayes, if Ladies be but yong, and faire,
They haue the gift to know it: and in his braine,
Which is as drie as the remainder bisket
After a voyage: He hath strange places cram'd
With obseruation, the which he vents
In mangled formes. O that I were a foole,
I am ambitious for a motley coat
Du.Sen. Thou shalt haue one
Iaq. It is my onely suite,
Prouided that you weed your better iudgements
Of all opinion that growes ranke in them,
That I am wise. I must haue liberty
Withall, as large a Charter as the winde,
To blow on whom I please, for so fooles haue:
And they that are most gauled with my folly,
They most must laugh: And why sir must they so?
The why is plaine, as way to Parish Church:
Hee, that a Foole doth very wisely hit,
Doth very foolishly, although he smart
Seeme senselesse of the bob. If not,
The Wise-mans folly is anathomiz'd
Euen by the squandring glances of the foole.
Inuest me in my motley: Giue me leaue
To speake my minde, and I will through and through
Cleanse the foule bodie of th' infected world,
If they will patiently receiue my medicine
Du.Sen. Fie on thee. I can tell what thou wouldst do
Iaq. What, for a Counter, would I do, but good?
Du.Sen. Most mischeeuous foule sin, in chiding sin:
For thou thy selfe hast bene a Libertine,
As sensuall as the brutish sting it selfe,
And all th' imbossed sores, and headed euils,
That thou with license of free foot hast caught,
Would'st thou disgorge into the generall world
Iaq. Why who cries out on pride,
That can therein taxe any priuate party:
Doth it not flow as hugely as the Sea,
Till that the wearie verie meanes do ebbe.
What woman in the Citie do I name,
When that I say the City woman beares
The cost of Princes on vnworthy shoulders?
Who can come in, and say that I meane her,
When such a one as shee, such is her neighbor?
Or what is he of basest function,
That sayes his brauerie is not on my cost,
Thinking that I meane him, but therein suites
His folly to the mettle of my speech,
There then, how then, what then, let me see wherein
My tongue hath wrong'd him: if it do him right,
Then he hath wrong'd himselfe: if he be free,
Why then my taxing like a wild-goose flies
Vnclaim'd of any man. But who come here?
Enter Orlando.
Orl. Forbeare, and eate no more
Iaq. Why I haue eate none yet
Orl. Nor shalt not, till necessity be seru'd
Iaq. Of what kinde should this Cocke come of?
Du.Sen. Art thou thus bolden'd man by thy distres?
Or else a rude despiser of good manners,
That in ciuility thou seem'st so emptie?
Orl. You touch'd my veine at first, the thorny point
Of bare distresse, hath tane from me the shew
Of smooth ciuility: yet am I in-land bred,
And know some nourture: But forbeare, I say,
He dies that touches any of this fruite,
Till I, and my affaires are answered
Iaq. And you will not be answer'd with reason,
I must dye
Du.Sen. What would you haue?
Your gentlenesse shall force, more then your force
Moue vs to gentlenesse
Orl. I almost die for food, and let me haue it
Du.Sen. Sit downe and feed, & welcom to our table
Orl. Speake you so gently? Pardon me I pray you,
I thought that all things had bin sauage heere,
And therefore put I on the countenance
Of sterne command'ment. But what ere you are
That in this desert inaccessible,
Vnder the shade of melancholly boughes,
Loose, and neglect the creeping houres of time:
If euer you haue look'd on better dayes:
If euer beene where bels haue knoll'd to Church:
If euer sate at any good mans feast:
If euer from your eye-lids wip'd a teare,
And know what 'tis to pittie, and be pittied:
Let gentlenesse my strong enforcement be,
In the which hope, I blush, and hide my Sword
Du.Sen. True is it, that we haue seene better dayes,
And haue with holy bell bin knowld to Church,
And sat at good mens feasts, and wip'd our eies
Of drops, that sacred pity hath engendred:
And therefore sit you downe in gentlenesse,
And take vpon command, what helpe we haue
That to your wanting may be ministred
Orl. Then but forbeare your food a little while:
Whiles (like a Doe) I go to finde my Fawne,
And giue it food. There is an old poore man,
Who after me, hath many a weary steppe
Limpt in pure loue: till he be first suffic'd,
Opprest with two weake euils, age, and hunger,
I will not touch a bit
Duke Sen. Go finde him out,
And we will nothing waste till you returne
Orl. I thanke ye, and be blest for your good comfort
Du.Sen. Thou seest, we are not all alone vnhappie:
This wide and vniuersall Theater
Presents more wofull Pageants then the Sceane
Wherein we play in
Ia. All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women, meerely Players;
They haue their Exits and their Entrances,
And one man in his time playes many parts,
His Acts being seuen ages. At first the Infant,
Mewling, and puking in the Nurses armes:
Then, the whining Schoole-boy with his Satchell
And shining morning face, creeping like snaile
Vnwillingly to schoole. And then the Louer,
Sighing like Furnace, with a wofull ballad
Made to his Mistresse eye-brow. Then, a Soldier,
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the Pard,
Ielous in honor, sodaine, and quicke in quarrell,
Seeking the bubble Reputation
Euen in the Canons mouth: And then, the Iustice
In faire round belly, with good Capon lin'd,
With eyes seuere, and beard of formall cut,
Full of wise sawes, and moderne instances,
And so he playes his part. The sixt age shifts
Into the leane and slipper'd Pantaloone,
With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side,
His youthfull hose well sau'd, a world too wide,
For his shrunke shanke, and his bigge manly voice,
Turning againe toward childish trebble pipes,
And whistles in his sound. Last Scene of all,
That ends this strange euentfull historie,
Is second childishnesse, and meere obliuion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans euery thing.
Enter Orlando with Adam.
Du.Sen. Welcome: set downe your venerable burthen,
and let him feede
Orl. I thanke you most for him
Ad. So had you neede,
I scarce can speake to thanke you for my selfe
Du.Sen. Welcome, fall too: I wil not trouble you,
As yet to question you about your fortunes:
Giue vs some Musicke, and good Cozen, sing.
Song.
Blow, blow, thou winter winde,
Thou art not so vnkinde, as mans ingratitude
Thy tooth is not so keene, because thou art not seene,
although thy breath be rude.
Heigh ho, sing heigh ho, vnto the greene holly,
Most frendship, is fayning; most Louing, meere folly:
The heigh ho, the holly,
This Life is most iolly.
Freize, freize, thou bitter skie that dost not bight so nigh
as benefitts forgot:
Though thou the waters warpe, thy sting is not so sharpe,
as freind remembred not.
Heigh ho, sing, &c
Duke Sen. If that you were the good Sir Rowlands son,
As you haue whisper'd faithfully you were,
And as mine eye doth his effigies witnesse,
Most truly limn'd, and liuing in your face,
Be truly welcome hither: I am the Duke
That lou'd your Father, the residue of your fortune,
Go to my Caue, and tell mee. Good old man,
Thou art right welcome, as thy masters is:
Support him by the arme: giue me your hand,
And let me all your fortunes vnderstand.
Exeunt.
Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.
Enter Duke, Lords, & Oliuer.
Du. Not see him since? Sir, sir, that cannot be:
But were I not the better part made mercie,
I should not seeke an absent argument
Of my reuenge, thou present: but looke to it,
Finde out thy brother wheresoere he is,
Seeke him with Candle: bring him dead, or liuing
Within this tweluemonth, or turne thou no more
To seeke a liuing in our Territorie.
Thy Lands and all things that thou dost call thine,
Worth seizure, do we seize into our hands,
Till thou canst quit thee by thy brothers mouth,
Of what we thinke against thee
Ol. Oh that your Highnesse knew my heart in this:
I neuer lou'd my brother in my life
Duke. More villaine thou. Well push him out of dores
And let my officers of such a nature
Make an extent vpon his house and Lands:
Do this expediently, and turne him going.
Exeunt.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Orlando.
Orl. Hang there my verse, in witnesse of my loue,
And thou thrice crowned Queene of night suruey
With thy chaste eye, from thy pale spheare aboue
Thy Huntresse name, that my full life doth sway.
O Rosalind, these Trees shall be my Bookes,
And in their barkes my thoughts Ile charracter,
That euerie eye, which in this Forrest lookes,
Shall see thy vertue witnest euery where.
Run, run Orlando, carue on euery Tree,
The faire, the chaste, and vnexpressiue shee.
Exit
Enter Corin & Clowne.
Co. And how like you this shepherds life Mr Touchstone? Clow. Truely Shepheard, in respect of it selfe, it is a good life; but in respect that it is a shepheards life, it is naught. In respect that it is solitary, I like it verie well: but in respect that it is priuate, it is a very vild life. Now in respect it is in the fields, it pleaseth mee well: but in respect it is not in the Court, it is tedious. As it is a spare life (looke you) it fits my humor well: but as there is no more plentie in it, it goes much against my stomacke. Has't any Philosophie in thee shepheard? Cor. No more, but that I know the more one sickens, the worse at ease he is: and that hee that wants money, meanes, and content, is without three good frends. That the propertie of raine is to wet, and fire to burne: That good pasture makes fat sheepe: and that a great cause of the night, is lacke of the Sunne: That hee that hath learned no wit by Nature, nor Art, may complaine of good breeding, or comes of a very dull kindred
Clo. Such a one is a naturall Philosopher:
Was't euer in Court, Shepheard?
Cor. No truly
Clo. Then thou art damn'd
Cor. Nay, I hope
Clo. Truly thou art damn'd, like an ill roasted Egge, all on one side
Cor. For not being at Court? your reason
Clo. Why, if thou neuer was't at Court, thou neuer saw'st good manners: if thou neuer saw'st good maners, then thy manners must be wicked, and wickednes is sin, and sinne is damnation: Thou art in a parlous state shepheard
Cor. Not a whit Touchstone, those that are good maners at the Court, are as ridiculous in the Countrey, as the behauiour of the Countrie is most mockeable at the Court. You told me, you salute not at the Court, but you kisse your hands; that courtesie would be vncleanlie if Courtiers were shepheards
Clo. Instance, briefly: come, instance
Cor. Why we are still handling our Ewes, and their
Fels you know are greasie
Clo. Why do not your Courtiers hands sweate? and is not the grease of a Mutton, as wholesome as the sweat of a man? Shallow, shallow: A better instance I say: Come
Cor. Besides, our hands are hard
Clo. Your lips wil feele them the sooner. Shallow agen: a more sounder instance, come
Cor. And they are often tarr'd ouer, with the surgery of our sheepe: and would you haue vs kisse Tarre? The Courtiers hands are perfum'd with Ciuet
Clo. Most shallow man: Thou wormes meate in respect of a good peece of flesh indeed: learne of the wise and perpend: Ciuet is of a baser birth then Tarre, the verie vncleanly fluxe of a Cat. Mend the instance Shepheard
Cor. You haue too Courtly a wit, for me, Ile rest
Clo. Wilt thou rest damn'd? God helpe thee shallow man: God make incision in thee, thou art raw
Cor. Sir, I am a true Labourer, I earne that I eate: get that I weare; owe no man hate, enuie no mans happinesse: glad of other mens good content with my harme: and the greatest of my pride, is to see my Ewes graze, & my Lambes sucke
Clo. That is another simple sinne in you, to bring the Ewes and the Rammes together, and to offer to get your liuing, by the copulation of Cattle, to be bawd to a Belweather, and to betray a shee-Lambe of a tweluemonth to a crooked-pated olde Cuckoldly Ramme, out of all reasonable match. If thou bee'st not damn'd for this, the diuell himselfe will haue no shepherds, I cannot see else how thou shouldst scape
Cor. Heere comes yong Mr Ganimed, my new Mistrisses
Brother.
Enter Rosalind
Ros. From the east to westerne Inde, no iewel is like Rosalinde, Hir worth being mounted on the winde, through all the world beares Rosalinde. All the pictures fairest Linde, are but blacke to Rosalinde: Let no face bee kept in mind, but the faire of Rosalinde
Clo. Ile rime you so, eight yeares together; dinners, and suppers, and sleeping hours excepted: it is the right Butter-womens ranke to Market
Ros. Out Foole
Clo. For a taste. If a Hart doe lacke a Hinde, Let him seeke out Rosalinde: If the Cat will after kinde, so be sure will Rosalinde: Wintred garments must be linde, so must slender Rosalinde: They that reap must sheafe and binde, then to cart with Rosalinde. Sweetest nut, hath sowrest rinde, such a nut is Rosalinde. He that sweetest rose will finde, must finde Loues pricke, & Rosalinde. This is the verie false gallop of Verses, why doe you infect your selfe with them? Ros. Peace you dull foole, I found them on a tree
Clo. Truely the tree yeelds bad fruite
Ros. Ile graffe it with you, and then I shall graffe it with a Medler: then it will be the earliest fruit i'th country: for you'l be rotten ere you bee halfe ripe, and that's the right vertue of the Medler
Clo. You haue said: but whether wisely or no, let the
Forrest iudge.
Enter Celia with a writing.
Ros. Peace, here comes my sister reading, stand aside
Cel. Why should this Desert bee, for it is vnpeopled? Noe: Tonges Ile hang on euerie tree, that shall ciuill sayings shoe. Some, how briefe the Life of man runs his erring pilgrimage, That the stretching of a span, buckles in his summe of age. Some of violated vowes, twixt the soules of friend, and friend: But vpon the fairest bowes, or at euerie sentence end; Will I Rosalinda write, teaching all that reade, to know The quintessence of euerie sprite, heauen would in little show. Therefore heauen Nature charg'd, that one bodie should be fill'd With all Graces wide enlarg'd, nature presently distill'd Helens cheeke, but not his heart, Cleopatra's Maiestie: Attalanta's better part, sad Lucrecia's Modestie. Thus Rosalinde of manie parts, by Heauenly Synode was deuis'd, Of manie faces, eyes, and hearts, to haue the touches deerest pris'd. Heauen would that shee these gifts should haue, and I to liue and die her slaue
Ros. O most gentle Iupiter, what tedious homilie of Loue haue you wearied your parishioners withall, and neuer cri'de, haue patience good people
Cel. How now backe friends: Shepheard, go off a little: go with him sirrah
Clo. Come Shepheard, let vs make an honorable retreit, though not with bagge and baggage, yet with scrip and scrippage. Enter.
Cel. Didst thou heare these verses?
Ros. O yes, I heard them all, and more too, for some
of them had in them more feete then the Verses would
beare
Cel. That's no matter: the feet might beare y verses
Ros. I, but the feet were lame, and could not beare themselues without the verse, and therefore stood lamely in the verse
Cel. But didst thou heare without wondering, how thy name should be hang'd and carued vpon these trees? Ros. I was seuen of the nine daies out of the wonder, before you came: for looke heere what I found on a Palme tree; I was neuer so berim'd since Pythagoras time that I was an Irish Rat, which I can hardly remember
Cel. Tro you, who hath done this?
Ros. Is it a man?
Cel. And a chaine that you once wore about his neck:
change you colour?
Ros. I pre'thee who?
Cel. O Lord, Lord, it is a hard matter for friends to
meete; but Mountaines may bee remoou'd with Earthquakes,
and so encounter
Ros. Nay, but who is it?
Cel. Is it possible?
Ros. Nay, I pre'thee now, with most petitionary vehemence,
tell me who it is
Cel. O wonderfull, wonderfull, and most wonderfull wonderfull, and yet againe wonderful, and after that out of all hooping
Ros. Good my complection, dost thou think though I am caparison'd like a man, I haue a doublet and hose in my disposition? One inch of delay more, is a South-sea of discouerie. I pre'thee tell me, who is it quickely, and speake apace: I would thou couldst stammer, that thou might'st powre this conceal'd man out of thy mouth, as Wine comes out of a narrow-mouth'd bottle: either too much at once, or none at all. I pre'thee take the Corke out of thy mouth, that I may drinke thy tydings
Cel. So you may put a man in your belly
Ros. Is he of Gods making? What manner of man?
Is his head worth a hat? Or his chin worth a beard?
Cel. Nay, he hath but a little beard
Ros. Why God will send more, if the man will bee thankful: let me stay the growth of his beard, if thou delay me not the knowledge of his chin
Cel. It is yong Orlando, that tript vp the Wrastlers
heeles, and your heart, both in an instant
Ros. Nay, but the diuell take mocking: speake sadde
brow, and true maid
Cel. I'faith (Coz) tis he
Ros. Orlando?
Cel. Orlando
Ros. Alas the day, what shall I do with my doublet & hose? What did he when thou saw'st him? What sayde he? How look'd he? Wherein went he? What makes hee heere? Did he aske for me? Where remaines he? How parted he with thee? And when shalt thou see him againe? Answer me in one word
Cel. You must borrow me Gargantuas mouth first: 'tis a Word too great for any mouth of this Ages size, to say I and no, to these particulars, is more then to answer in a Catechisme
Ros. But doth he know that I am in this Forrest, and in mans apparrell? Looks he as freshly, as he did the day he Wrastled? Cel. It is as easie to count Atomies as to resolue the propositions of a Louer: but take a taste of my finding him, and rellish it with good obseruance. I found him vnder a tree like a drop'd Acorne
Ros. It may wel be cal'd Ioues tree, when it droppes forth fruite
Cel. Giue me audience, good Madam
Ros. Proceed
Cel. There lay hee stretch'd along like a Wounded
knight
Ros. Though it be pittie to see such a sight, it well
becomes the ground
Cel. Cry holla, to the tongue, I prethee: it curuettes
vnseasonably. He was furnish'd like a Hunter
Ros. O ominous, he comes to kill my Hart
Cel. I would sing my song without a burthen, thou
bring'st me out of tune
Ros. Do you not know I am a woman, when I thinke,
I must speake: sweet, say on.
Enter Orlando & Iaques.
Cel. You bring me out. Soft, comes he not heere?
Ros. 'Tis he, slinke by, and note him
Iaq. I thanke you for your company, but good faith
I had as liefe haue beene my selfe alone
Orl. And so had I: but yet for fashion sake
I thanke you too, for your societie
Iaq. God buy you, let's meet as little as we can
Orl. I do desire we may be better strangers
Iaq. I pray you marre no more trees with Writing
Loue-songs in their barkes
Orl. I pray you marre no moe of my verses with reading
them ill-fauouredly
Iaq. Rosalinde is your loues name?
Orl. Yes, Iust
Iaq. I do not like her name
Orl. There was no thought of pleasing you when she
was christen'd
Iaq. What stature is she of?
Orl. Iust as high as my heart
Iaq. You are ful of prety answers: haue you not bin acquainted
with goldsmiths wiues, & cond the[m] out of rings
Orl. Not so: but I answer you right painted cloath,
from whence you haue studied your questions
Iaq. You haue a nimble wit; I thinke 'twas made of Attalanta's heeles. Will you sitte downe with me, and wee two, will raile against our Mistris the world, and all our miserie
Orl. I wil chide no breather in the world but my selfe against whom I know most faults
Iaq. The worst fault you haue, is to be in loue
Orl. 'Tis a fault I will not change, for your best vertue:
I am wearie of you
Iaq. By my troth, I was seeking for a Foole, when I
found you
Orl. He is drown'd in the brooke, looke but in, and
you shall see him
Iaq. There I shal see mine owne figure
Orl. Which I take to be either a foole, or a Cipher
Iaq. Ile tarrie no longer with you, farewell good signior
Loue
Orl. I am glad of your departure: Adieu good Monsieur
Melancholly
Ros. I wil speake to him like a sawcie Lacky, and vnder
that habit play the knaue with him, do you hear Forrester
Orl. Verie wel, what would you?
Ros. I pray you, what i'st a clocke?
Orl. You should aske me what time o' day: there's no
clocke in the Forrest
Ros. Then there is no true Louer in the Forrest, else sighing euerie minute, and groaning euerie houre wold detect the lazie foot of time, as wel as a clocke
Orl. And why not the swift foote of time? Had not that bin as proper? Ros. By no meanes sir; Time trauels in diuers paces, with diuers persons: Ile tel you who Time ambles withall, who Time trots withal, who Time gallops withal, and who he stands stil withall
Orl. I prethee, who doth he trot withal? Ros. Marry he trots hard with a yong maid, between the contract of her marriage, and the day it is solemnizd: if the interim be but a sennight, Times pace is so hard, that it seemes the length of seuen yeare
Orl. Who ambles Time withal? Ros. With a Priest that lacks Latine, and a rich man that hath not the Gowt: for the one sleepes easily because he cannot study, and the other liues merrily, because he feeles no paine: the one lacking the burthen of leane and wasteful Learning; the other knowing no burthen of heauie tedious penurie. These Time ambles withal
Orl. Who doth he gallop withal?
Ros. With a theefe to the gallowes: for though hee
go as softly as foot can fall, he thinkes himselfe too soon
there
Orl. Who staies it stil withal?
Ros. With Lawiers in the vacation: for they sleepe
betweene Terme and Terme, and then they perceiue not
how time moues
Orl. Where dwel you prettie youth?
Ros. With this Shepheardesse my sister: heere in the
skirts of the Forrest, like fringe vpon a petticoat
Orl. Are you natiue of this place?
Ros. As the Conie that you see dwell where shee is
kindled
Orl. Your accent is something finer, then you could
purchase in so remoued a dwelling
Ros. I haue bin told so of many: but indeed, an olde religious Vnckle of mine taught me to speake, who was in his youth an inland man, one that knew Courtship too well: for there he fel in loue. I haue heard him read many Lectors against it, and I thanke God, I am not a Woman to be touch'd with so many giddie offences as hee hath generally tax'd their whole sex withal
Orl. Can you remember any of the principall euils, that he laid to the charge of women? Ros. There were none principal, they were all like one another, as halfepence are, euerie one fault seeming monstrous, til his fellow-fault came to match it
Orl. I prethee recount some of them
Ros. No: I wil not cast away my physick, but on those that are sicke. There is a man haunts the Forrest, that abuses our yong plants with caruing Rosalinde on their barkes; hangs Oades vpon Hauthornes, and Elegies on brambles; all (forsooth) defying the name of Rosalinde. If I could meet that Fancie-monger, I would giue him some good counsel, for he seemes to haue the Quotidian of Loue vpon him
Orl. I am he that is so Loue-shak'd, I pray you tel me your remedie
Ros. There is none of my Vnckles markes vpon you: he taught me how to know a man in loue: in which cage of rushes, I am sure you art not prisoner
Orl. What were his markes? Ros. A leane cheeke, which you haue not: a blew eie and sunken, which you haue not: an vnquestionable spirit, which you haue not: a beard neglected, which you haue not: (but I pardon you for that, for simply your hauing in beard, is a yonger brothers reuennew) then your hose should be vngarter'd, your bonnet vnbanded, your sleeue vnbutton'd, your shoo vnti'de, and euerie thing about you, demonstrating a carelesse desolation: but you are no such man; you are rather point deuice in your accoustrements, as louing your selfe, then seeming the Louer of any other
Orl. Faire youth, I would I could make thee beleeue I Loue
Ros. Me beleeue it? You may assoone make her that you Loue beleeue it, which I warrant she is apter to do, then to confesse she do's: that is one of the points, in the which women stil giue the lie to their consciences. But in good sooth, are you he that hangs the verses on the Trees, wherein Rosalind is so admired? Orl. I sweare to thee youth, by the white hand of Rosalind, I am that he, that vnfortunate he
Ros. But are you so much in loue, as your rimes speak?
Orl. Neither rime nor reason can expresse how much
Ros. Loue is meerely a madnesse, and I tel you, deserues as wel a darke house, and a whip, as madmen do: and the reason why they are not so punish'd and cured, is that the Lunacie is so ordinarie, that the whippers are in loue too: yet I professe curing it by counsel
Orl. Did you euer cure any so? Ros. Yes one, and in this manner. Hee was to imagine me his Loue, his Mistris: and I set him euerie day to woe me. At which time would I, being but a moonish youth, greeue, be effeminate, changeable, longing, and liking, proud, fantastical, apish, shallow, inconstant, ful of teares, full of smiles; for euerie passion something, and for no passion truly any thing, as boyes and women are for the most part, cattle of this colour: would now like him, now loath him: then entertaine him, then forswear him: now weepe for him, then spit at him; that I draue my Sutor from his mad humor of loue, to a liuing humor of madnes, w was to forsweare the ful stream of y world, and to liue in a nooke meerly Monastick: and thus I cur'd him, and this way wil I take vpon mee to wash your Liuer as cleane as a sound sheepes heart, that there shal not be one spot of Loue in't
Orl. I would not be cured, youth
Ros. I would cure you, if you would but call me Rosalind,
and come euerie day to my Coat, and woe me
Orlan. Now by the faith of my loue, I will; Tel me
where it is
Ros. Go with me to it, and Ile shew it you: and by
the way, you shal tell me, where in the Forrest you liue:
Wil you go?
Orl. With all my heart, good youth
Ros. Nay, you must call mee Rosalind: Come sister,
will you go?
Exeunt.
Scoena Tertia.
Enter Clowne, Audrey, & Iaques.
Clo. Come apace good Audrey, I wil fetch vp your
Goates, Audrey: and how Audrey am I the man yet?
Doth my simple feature content you?
Aud. Your features, Lord warrant vs: what features?
Clo. I am heere with thee, and thy Goats, as the most
capricious Poet honest Ouid was among the Gothes
Iaq. O knowledge ill inhabited, worse then Ioue in
a thatch'd house
Clo. When a mans verses cannot be vnderstood, nor a mans good wit seconded with the forward childe, vnderstanding: it strikes a man more dead then a great reckoning in a little roome: truly, I would the Gods hadde made thee poeticall
Aud. I do not know what Poetical is: is it honest in deed and word: is it a true thing? Clo. No trulie: for the truest poetrie is the most faining, and Louers are giuen to Poetrie: and what they sweare in Poetrie, may be said as Louers, they do feigne
Aud. Do you wish then that the Gods had made me
Poeticall?
Clow. I do truly: for thou swear'st to me thou art honest:
Now if thou wert a Poet, I might haue some hope
thou didst feigne
Aud. Would you not haue me honest?
Clo. No truly, vnlesse thou wert hard fauour'd: for
honestie coupled to beautie, is to haue Honie a sawce to
Sugar
Iaq. A materiall foole
Aud. Well, I am not faire, and therefore I pray the
Gods make me honest
Clo. Truly, and to cast away honestie vppon a foule
slut, were to put good meate into an vncleane dish
Aud. I am not a slut, though I thanke the Goddes I
am foule
Clo. Well, praised be the Gods, for thy foulnesse; sluttishnesse may come heereafter. But be it, as it may bee, I wil marrie thee: and to that end, I haue bin with Sir Oliuer Mar-text, the Vicar of the next village, who hath promis'd to meete me in this place of the Forrest, and to couple vs
Iaq. I would faine see this meeting
Aud. Wel, the Gods giue vs ioy
Clo. Amen. A man may if he were of a fearful heart, stagger in this attempt: for heere wee haue no Temple but the wood, no assembly but horne-beasts. But what though? Courage. As hornes are odious, they are necessarie. It is said, many a man knowes no end of his goods; right: Many a man has good Hornes, and knows no end of them. Well, that is the dowrie of his wife, 'tis none of his owne getting; hornes, euen so poore men alone: No, no, the noblest Deere hath them as huge as the Rascall: Is the single man therefore blessed? No, as a wall'd Towne is more worthier then a village, so is the forehead of a married man, more honourable then the bare brow of a Batcheller: and by how much defence is better then no skill, by so much is a horne more precious then to want. Enter Sir Oliuer Mar-text.
Heere comes Sir Oliuer: Sir Oliuer Mar-text you are wel met. Will you dispatch vs heere vnder this tree, or shal we go with you to your Chappell? Ol. Is there none heere to giue the woman? Clo. I wil not take her on guift of any man
Ol. Truly she must be giuen, or the marriage is not lawfull
Iaq. Proceed, proceede: Ile giue her
Clo. Good euen good Mr what ye cal't: how do you Sir, you are verie well met: goddild you for your last companie, I am verie glad to see you, euen a toy in hand heere Sir: Nay, pray be couer'd
Iaq. Wil you be married, Motley?
Clo. As the Oxe hath his bow sir, the horse his curb,
and the Falcon her bels, so man hath his desires, and as
Pigeons bill, so wedlocke would be nibling
Iaq. And wil you (being a man of your breeding) be married vnder a bush like a begger? Get you to church, and haue a good Priest that can tel you what marriage is, this fellow wil but ioyne you together, as they ioyne Wainscot, then one of you wil proue a shrunke pannell, and like greene timber, warpe, warpe
Clo. I am not in the minde, but I were better to bee married of him then of another, for he is not like to marrie me wel: and not being wel married, it wil be a good excuse for me heereafter, to leaue my wife
Iaq. Goe thou with mee,
And let me counsel thee
Ol. Come sweete Audrey,
We must be married, or we must liue in baudrey:
Farewel good Mr Oliuer: Not O sweet Oliuer, O braue
Oliuer leaue me not behind thee: But winde away, bee
gone I say, I wil not to wedding with thee
Ol. 'Tis no matter; Ne're a fantastical knaue of them
all shal flout me out of my calling.
Exeunt.
Scoena Quarta.
Enter Rosalind & Celia.
Ros. Neuer talke to me, I wil weepe
Cel. Do I prethee, but yet haue the grace to consider,
that teares do not become a man
Ros. But haue I not cause to weepe?
Cel. As good cause as one would desire,
Therefore weepe
Ros. His very haire
Is of the dissembling colour
Cel. Something browner then Iudasses:
Marrie his kisses are Iudasses owne children
Ros. I'faith his haire is of a good colour
Cel. An excellent colour:
Your Chessenut was euer the onely colour:
Ros. And his kissing is as ful of sanctitie,
As the touch of holy bread
Cel. Hee hath bought a paire of cast lips of Diana: a Nun of winters sisterhood kisses not more religiouslie, the very yce of chastity is in them
Rosa. But why did hee sweare hee would come this
morning, and comes not?
Cel. Nay certainly there is no truth in him
Ros. Doe you thinke so?
Cel. Yes, I thinke he is not a picke purse, nor a horse-stealer,
but for his verity in loue, I doe thinke him as
concaue as a couered goblet, or a Worme-eaten nut
Ros. Not true in loue?
Cel. Yes, when he is in, but I thinke he is not in
Ros. You haue heard him sweare downright he was
Cel. Was, is not is: besides, the oath of Louer is no stronger then the word of a Tapster, they are both the confirmer of false reckonings, he attends here in the forrest on the Duke your father
Ros. I met the Duke yesterday, and had much question with him: he askt me of what parentage I was; I told him of as good as he, so he laugh'd and let mee goe. But what talke wee of Fathers, when there is such a man as Orlando? Cel. O that's a braue man, hee writes braue verses, speakes braue words, sweares braue oathes, and breakes them brauely, quite trauers athwart the heart of his louer, as a puisny Tilter, y spurs his horse but on one side, breakes his staffe like a noble goose; but all's braue that youth mounts, and folly guides: who comes heere? Enter Corin.
Corin. Mistresse and Master, you haue oft enquired
After the Shepheard that complain'd of loue,
Who you saw sitting by me on the Turph,
Praising the proud disdainfull Shepherdesse
That was his Mistresse
Cel. Well: and what of him?
Cor. If you will see a pageant truely plaid
Betweene the pale complexion of true Loue,
And the red glowe of scorne and prowd disdaine,
Goe hence a little, and I shall conduct you
If you will marke it
Ros. O come, let vs remoue,
The sight of Louers feedeth those in loue:
Bring vs to this sight, and you shall say
Ile proue a busie actor in their play.
Exeunt.
Scena Quinta.
Enter Siluius and Phebe.
Sil. Sweet Phebe doe not scorne me, do not Phebe
Say that you loue me not, but say not so
In bitternesse; the common executioner
Whose heart th' accustom'd sight of death makes hard
Falls not the axe vpon the humbled neck,
But first begs pardon: will you sterner be
Then he that dies and liues by bloody drops?
Enter Rosalind, Celia, and Corin.
Phe. I would not be thy executioner,
I flye thee, for I would not iniure thee:
Thou tellst me there is murder in mine eye,
'Tis pretty sure, and very probable,
That eyes that are the frailst, and softest things,
Who shut their coward gates on atomyes,
Should be called tyrants, butchers, murtherers.
Now I doe frowne on thee with all my heart,
And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee:
Now counterfeit to swound, why now fall downe,
Or if thou canst not, oh for shame, for shame,
Lye not, to say mine eyes are murtherers:
Now shew the wound mine eye hath made in thee,
Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remaines
Some scarre of it: Leane vpon a rush
The Cicatrice and capable impressure
Thy palme some moment keepes: but now mine eyes
Which I haue darted at thee, hurt thee not,
Nor I am sure there is no force in eyes
That can doe hurt
Sil. O deere Phebe,
If euer (as that euer may be neere)
You meet in some fresh cheeke the power of fancie,
Then shall you know the wounds inuisible
That Loues keene arrows make
Phe. But till that time
Come not thou neere me: and when that time comes,
Afflict me with thy mockes, pitty me not,
As till that time I shall not pitty thee
Ros. And why I pray you? who might be your mother
That you insult, exult, and all at once
Ouer the wretched? what though you haue no beauty
As by my faith, I see no more in you
Then without Candle may goe darke to bed:
Must you be therefore prowd and pittilesse?
Why what meanes this? why do you looke on me?
I see no more in you then in the ordinary
Of Natures sale-worke? 'ods my little life,
I thinke she meanes to tangle my eies too:
No faith proud Mistresse, hope not after it,
'Tis not your inkie browes, your blacke silke haire,
Your bugle eye-balls, nor your cheeke of creame
That can entame my spirits to your worship:
You foolish Shepheard, wherefore do you follow her
Like foggy South, puffing with winde and raine,
You are a thousand times a properer man
Then she a woman. 'Tis such fooles as you
That makes the world full of ill-fauourd children:
'Tis not her glasse, but you that flatters her,
And out of you she sees her selfe more proper
Then any of her lineaments can show her:
But Mistris, know your selfe, downe on your knees
And thanke heauen, fasting, for a good mans loue;
For I must tell you friendly in your eare,
Sell when you can, you are not for all markets:
Cry the man mercy, loue him, take his offer,
Foule is most foule, being foule to be a scoffer.
So take her to thee Shepheard, fareyouwell
Phe. Sweet youth, I pray you chide a yere together,
I had rather here you chide, then this man wooe
Ros. Hees falne in loue with your foulnesse, & shee'll
Fall in loue with my anger. If it be so, as fast
As she answeres thee with frowning lookes, ile sauce
Her with bitter words: why looke you so vpon me?
Phe. For no ill will I beare you
Ros. I pray you do not fall in loue with mee,
For I am falser then vowes made in wine:
Besides, I like you not: if you will know my house,
'Tis at the tufft of Oliues, here hard by:
Will you goe Sister? Shepheard ply her hard:
Come Sister: Shepheardesse, looke on him better
And be not proud, though all the world could see,
None could be so abus'd in sight as hee.
Come, to our flocke,
Enter.
Phe. Dead Shepheard, now I find thy saw of might,
Who euer lov'd, that lou'd not at first sight?
Sil. Sweet Phebe
Phe. Hah: what saist thou Siluius?
Sil. Sweet Phebe pitty me
Phe. Why I am sorry for thee gentle Siluius
Sil. Where euer sorrow is, reliefe would be:
If you doe sorrow at my griefe in loue,
By giuing loue your sorrow, and my griefe
Were both extermin'd
Phe. Thou hast my loue, is not that neighbourly?
Sil. I would haue you
Phe. Why that were couetousnesse:
Siluius; the time was, that I hated thee;
And yet it is not, that I beare thee loue,
But since that thou canst talke of loue so well,
Thy company, which erst was irkesome to me
I will endure; and Ile employ thee too:
But doe not looke for further recompence
Then thine owne gladnesse, that thou art employd
Sil. So holy, and so perfect is my loue,
And I in such a pouerty of grace,
That I shall thinke it a most plenteous crop
To gleane the broken eares after the man
That the maine haruest reapes: loose now and then
A scattred smile, and that Ile liue vpon
Phe. Knowst thou the youth that spoke to mee yerewhile?
Sil. Not very well, but I haue met him oft,
And he hath bought the Cottage and the bounds
That the old Carlot once was Master of
Phe. Thinke not I loue him, though I ask for him,
'Tis but a peeuish boy, yet he talkes well,
But what care I for words? yet words do well
When he that speakes them pleases those that heare:
It is a pretty youth, not very prettie,
But sure hee's proud, and yet his pride becomes him;
Hee'll make a proper man: the best thing in him
Is his complexion: and faster then his tongue
Did make offence, his eye did heale it vp:
He is not very tall, yet for his yeeres hee's tall:
His leg is but so so, and yet 'tis well:
There was a pretty rednesse in his lip,
A little riper, and more lustie red
Then that mixt in his cheeke: 'twas iust the difference
Betwixt the constant red, and mingled Damaske.
There be some women Siluius, had they markt him
In parcells as I did, would haue gone neere
To fall in loue with him: but for my part
I loue him not, nor hate him not: and yet
Haue more cause to hate him then to loue him,
For what had he to doe to chide at me?
He said mine eyes were black, and my haire blacke,
And now I am remembred, scorn'd at me:
I maruell why I answer'd not againe,
But that's all one: omittance is no quittance:
Ile write to him a very tanting Letter,
And thou shalt beare it, wilt thou Siluius?
Sil. Phebe, with all my heart
Phe. Ile write it strait:
The matter's in my head, and in my heart,
I will be bitter with him, and passing short;
Goe with me Siluius.
Exeunt.
Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.
Enter Rosalind, and Celia, and Iaques.
Iaq. I prethee, pretty youth, let me better acquainted with thee
Ros They say you are a melancholly fellow
Iaq. I am so: I doe loue it better then laughing
Ros. Those that are in extremity of either, are abhominable fellowes, and betray themselues to euery moderne censure, worse then drunkards
Iaq. Why, 'tis good to be sad and say nothing
Ros. Why then 'tis good to be a poste
Iaq. I haue neither the Schollers melancholy, which is emulation: nor the Musitians, which is fantasticall; nor the Courtiers, which is proud: nor the Souldiers, which is ambitious: nor the Lawiers, which is politick: nor the Ladies, which is nice: nor the Louers, which is all these: but it is a melancholy of mine owne, compounded of many simples, extracted from many obiects, and indeed the sundrie contemplation of my trauells, in which by often rumination, wraps me in a most humorous sadnesse
Ros. A Traueller: by my faith you haue great reason to be sad: I feare you haue sold your owne Lands, to see other mens; then to haue seene much, and to haue nothing, is to haue rich eyes and poore hands
Iaq. Yes, I haue gain'd my experience.
Enter Orlando.
Ros. And your experience makes you sad: I had rather haue a foole to make me merrie, then experience to make me sad, and to trauaile for it too
Orl. Good day, and happinesse, deere Rosalind
Iaq. Nay then God buy you, and you talke in blanke verse
Ros. Farewell Mounsieur Trauellor: looke you lispe, and weare strange suites; disable all the benefits of your owne Countrie: be out of loue with your natiuitie, and almost chide God for making you that countenance you are; or I will scarce thinke you haue swam in a Gundello. Why how now Orlando, where haue you bin all this while? you a louer? and you serue me such another tricke, neuer come in my sight more
Orl. My faire Rosalind, I come within an houre of my promise
Ros. Breake an houres promise in loue? hee that will diuide a minute into a thousand parts, and breake but a part of the thousand part of a minute in the affairs of loue, it may be said of him that Cupid hath clapt him oth' shoulder, but Ile warrant him heart hole
Orl. Pardon me deere Rosalind
Ros. Nay, and you be so tardie, come no more in my sight, I had as liefe be woo'd of a Snaile
Orl. Of a Snaile? Ros. I, of a Snaile: for though he comes slowly, hee carries his house on his head; a better ioyncture I thinke then you make a woman: besides, he brings his destinie with him
Orl. What's that?
Ros. Why hornes: w such as you are faine to be beholding
to your wiues for: but he comes armed in his
fortune, and preuents the slander of his wife
Orl. Vertue is no horne-maker: and my Rosalind is
vertuous
Ros. And I am your Rosalind
Cel. It pleases him to call you so: but he hath a Rosalind of a better leere then you
Ros. Come, wooe me, wooe mee: for now I am in a holy-day humor, and like enough to consent: What would you say to me now, and I were your verie, verie Rosalind? Orl. I would kisse before I spoke
Ros. Nay, you were better speake first, and when you were grauel'd, for lacke of matter, you might take occasion to kisse: verie good Orators when they are out, they will spit, and for louers, lacking (God warne vs) matter, the cleanliest shift is to kisse
Orl. How if the kisse be denide?
Ros. Then she puts you to entreatie, and there begins
new matter
Orl. Who could be out, being before his beloued
Mistris?
Ros. Marrie that should you if I were your Mistris,
or I should thinke my honestie ranker then my wit
Orl. What, of my suite?
Ros. Not out of your apparrell, and yet out of your
suite:
Am not I your Rosalind?
Orl. I take some ioy to say you are, because I would
be talking of her
Ros. Well, in her person, I say I will not haue you
Orl. Then in mine owne person, I die
Ros. No faith, die by Attorney: the poore world is almost six thousand yeeres old, and in all this time there was not anie man died in his owne person (videlicet) in a loue cause: Troilous had his braines dash'd out with a Grecian club, yet he did what hee could to die before, and he is one of the patternes of loue. Leander, he would haue liu'd manie a faire yeere though Hero had turn'd Nun; if it had not bin for a hot Midsomer-night, for (good youth) he went but forth to wash him in the Hellespont, and being taken with the crampe, was droun'd, and the foolish Chronoclers of that age, found it was Hero of Cestos. But these are all lies, men haue died from time to time, and wormes haue eaten them, but not for loue
Orl. I would not haue my right Rosalind of this mind, for I protest her frowne might kill me
Ros. By this hand, it will not kill a flie: but come, now I will be your Rosalind in a more comming-on disposition: and aske me what you will, I will grant it
Orl. Then loue me Rosalind
Ros. Yes faith will I, fridaies and saterdaies, and all
Orl. And wilt thou haue me?
Ros. I, and twentie such
Orl. What saiest thou?
Ros. Are you not good?
Orl. I hope so
Rosalind. Why then, can one desire too much of a good thing: Come sister, you shall be the Priest, and marrie vs: giue me your hand Orlando: What doe you say sister? Orl. Pray thee marrie vs
Cel. I cannot say the words
Ros. You must begin, will you Orlando
Cel. Goe too: wil you Orlando, haue to wife this Rosalind?
Orl. I will
Ros. I, but when?
Orl. Why now, as fast as she can marrie vs
Ros. Then you must say, I take thee Rosalind for
wife
Orl. I take thee Rosalind for wife
Ros. I might aske you for your Commission, But I doe take thee Orlando for my husband: there's a girle goes before the Priest, and certainely a Womans thought runs before her actions
Orl. So do all thoughts, they are wing'd
Ros. Now tell me how long you would haue her, after
you haue possest her?
Orl. For euer, and a day
Ros. Say a day, without the euer: no, no Orlando, men are Aprill when they woe, December when they wed: Maides are May when they are maides, but the sky changes when they are wiues: I will bee more iealous of thee, then a Barbary cocke-pidgeon ouer his hen, more clamorous then a Parrat against raine, more new-fangled then an ape, more giddy in my desires, then a monkey: I will weepe for nothing, like Diana in the Fountaine, & I wil do that when you are dispos'd to be merry: I will laugh like a Hyen, and that when thou art inclin'd to sleepe
Orl. But will my Rosalind doe so?
Ros. By my life, she will doe as I doe
Orl. O but she is wise
Ros. Or else shee could not haue the wit to doe this: the wiser, the waywarder: make the doores vpon a womans wit, and it will out at the casement: shut that, and 'twill out at the key-hole: stop that, 'twill flie with the smoake out at the chimney
Orl. A man that had a wife with such a wit, he might
say, wit whether wil't?
Ros. Nay, you might keepe that checke for it, till you
met your wiues wit going to your neighbours bed
Orl. And what wit could wit haue, to excuse that? Rosa. Marry to say, she came to seeke you there: you shall neuer take her without her answer, vnlesse you take her without her tongue: o that woman that cannot make her fault her husbands occasion, let her neuer nurse her childe her selfe, for she will breed it like a foole
Orl. For these two houres Rosalinde, I wil leaue thee
Ros. Alas, deere loue, I cannot lacke thee two houres
Orl. I must attend the Duke at dinner, by two a clock
I will be with thee againe
Ros. I, goe your waies, goe your waies: I knew what you would proue, my friends told mee as much, and I thought no lesse: that flattering tongue of yours wonne me: 'tis but one cast away, and so come death: two o' clocke is your howre
Orl. I, sweet Rosalind
Ros. By my troth, and in good earnest, and so God mend mee, and by all pretty oathes that are not dangerous, if you breake one iot of your promise, or come one minute behinde your houre, I will thinke you the most patheticall breake-promise, and the most hollow louer, and the most vnworthy of her you call Rosalinde, that may bee chosen out of the grosse band of the vnfaithfull: therefore beware my censure, and keep your promise
Orl. With no lesse religion, then if thou wert indeed my Rosalind: so adieu
Ros. Well, Time is the olde Iustice that examines all such offenders, and let time try: adieu. Enter.
Cel. You haue simply misus'd our sexe in your loue-prate: we must haue your doublet and hose pluckt ouer your head, and shew the world what the bird hath done to her owne neast
Ros. O coz, coz, coz: my pretty little coz, that thou didst know how many fathome deepe I am in loue: but it cannot bee sounded: my affection hath an vnknowne bottome, like the Bay of Portugall
Cel. Or rather bottomlesse, that as fast as you poure affection in, it runs out
Ros. No, that same wicked Bastard of Venus, that was begot of thought, conceiu'd of spleene, and borne of madnesse, that blinde rascally boy, that abuses euery ones eyes, because his owne are out, let him bee iudge, how deepe I am in loue: ile tell thee Aliena, I cannot be out of the sight of Orlando: Ile goe finde a shadow, and sigh till he come
Cel. And Ile sleepe.
Exeunt.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Iaques and Lords, Forresters.
Iaq. Which is he that killed the Deare?
Lord. Sir, it was I
Iaq. Let's present him to the Duke like a Romane Conquerour, and it would doe well to set the Deares horns vpon his head, for a branch of victory; haue you no song Forrester for this purpose? Lord. Yes Sir
Iaq. Sing it: 'tis no matter how it bee in tune, so it make noyse enough.
Musicke, Song.
What shall he haue that kild the Deare?
His Leather skin, and hornes to weare:
Then sing him home, the rest shall beare this burthen;
Take thou no scorne to weare the horne,
It was a crest ere thou wast borne,
Thy fathers father wore it,
And thy father bore it,
The horne, the horne, the lusty horne,
Is not a thing to laugh to scorne.
Exeunt.
Scoena Tertia.
Enter Rosalind and Celia.
Ros. How say you now, is it not past two a clock?
And heere much Orlando
Cel. I warrant you, with pure loue, & troubled brain,
Enter Siluius.
He hath t'ane his bow and arrowes, and is gone forth
To sleepe: looke who comes heere
Sil. My errand is to you, faire youth,
My gentle Phebe, did bid me giue you this:
I know not the contents, but as I guesse
By the sterne brow, and waspish action
Which she did vse, as she was writing of it,
It beares an angry tenure; pardon me,
I am but as a guiltlesse messenger
Ros. Patience her selfe would startle at this letter,
And play the swaggerer, beare this, beare all:
Shee saies I am not faire, that I lacke manners,
She calls me proud, and that she could not loue me
Were man as rare as Phenix: 'od's my will,
Her loue is not the Hare that I doe hunt,
Why writes she so to me? well Shepheard, well,
This is a Letter of your owne deuice
Sil. No, I protest, I know not the contents,
Phebe did write it
Ros. Come, come, you are a foole,
And turn'd into the extremity of loue.
I saw her hand, she has a leatherne hand,
A freestone coloured hand: I verily did thinke
That her old gloues were on, but twas her hands:
She has a huswiues hand, but that's no matter:
I say she neuer did inuent this letter,
This is a mans inuention, and his hand
Sil. Sure it is hers
Ros. Why, tis a boysterous and a cruell stile,
A stile for challengers: why, she defies me,
Like Turke to Christian: womens gentle braine
Could not drop forth such giant rude inuention,
Such Ethiop words, blacker in their effect
Then in their countenance: will you heare the letter?
Sil. So please you, for I neuer heard it yet:
Yet heard too much of Phebes crueltie
Ros. She Phebes me: marke how the tyrant writes.
Read.
Art thou god, to Shepherd turn'd?
That a maidens heart hath burn'd.
Can a woman raile thus?
Sil. Call you this railing?
Ros.
Read.
Why, thy godhead laid a part,
War'st thou with a womans heart?
Did you euer heare such railing?
Whiles the eye of man did wooe me,
That could do no vengeance to me.
Meaning me a beast.
If the scorne of your bright eine
Haue power to raise such loue in mine,
Alacke, in me, what strange effect
Would they worke in milde aspect?
Whiles you chid me, I did loue,
How then might your praiers moue?
He that brings this loue to thee,
Little knowes this Loue in me:
And by him seale vp thy minde,
Whether that thy youth and kinde
Will the faithfull offer take
Of me, and all that I can make,
Or else by him my loue denie,
And then Ile studie how to die
Sil. Call you this chiding?
Cel. Alas poore Shepheard
Ros. Doe you pitty him? No, he deserues no pitty: wilt thou loue such a woman? what to make thee an instrument, and play false straines vpon thee? not to be endur'd. Well, goe your way to her; (for I see Loue hath made thee a tame snake) and say this to her; That if she loue me, I charge her to loue thee: if she will not, I will neuer haue her, vnlesse thou intreat for her: if you bee a true louer hence, and not a word; for here comes more company.
Exit. Sil.
Enter Oliuer.
Oliu. Good morrow, faire ones: pray you, (if you | know)
Where in the Purlews of this Forrest, stands
A sheep-coat, fenc'd about with Oliue-trees
Cel. West of this place, down in the neighbor bottom
The ranke of Oziers, by the murmuring streame
Left on your right hand, brings you to the place:
But at this howre, the house doth keepe it selfe,
There's none within
Oli. If that an eye may profit by a tongue,
Then should I know you by description,
Such garments, and such yeeres: the boy is faire,
Of femall fauour, and bestowes himselfe
Like a ripe sister: the woman low
And browner then her brother: are not you
The owner of the house I did enquire for?
Cel. It is no boast, being ask'd, to say we are
Oli. Orlando doth commend him to you both,
And to that youth hee calls his Rosalind,
He sends this bloudy napkin; are you he?
Ros. I am: what must we vnderstand by this?
Oli. Some of my shame, if you will know of me
What man I am, and how, and why, and where
This handkercher was stain'd
Cel. I pray you tell it
Oli. When last the yong Orlando parted from you,
He left a promise to returne againe
Within an houre, and pacing through the Forrest,
Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancie,
Loe what befell: he threw his eye aside,
And marke what obiect did present it selfe
Vnder an old Oake, whose bows were moss'd with age
And high top, bald with drie antiquitie:
A wretched ragged man, ore-growne with haire
Lay sleeping on his back; about his necke
A greene and guilded snake had wreath'd it selfe,
Who with her head, nimble in threats approach'd
The opening of his mouth: but sodainly
Seeing Orlando, it vnlink'd it selfe,
And with indented glides, did slip away
Into a bush, vnder which bushes shade
A Lyonnesse, with vdders all drawne drie,
Lay cowching head on ground, with catlike watch
When that the sleeping man should stirre; for 'tis
The royall disposition of that beast
To prey on nothing, that doth seeme as dead:
This seene, Orlando did approach the man,
And found it was his brother, his elder brother
Cel. O I haue heard him speake of that same brother,
And he did render him the most vnnaturall
That liu'd amongst men
Oli. And well he might so doe,
For well I know he was vnnaturall
Ros. But to Orlando: did he leaue him there
Food to the suck'd and hungry Lyonnesse?
Oli. Twice did he turne his backe, and purpos'd so:
But kindnesse, nobler euer then reuenge,
And Nature stronger then his iust occasion,
Made him giue battell to the Lyonnesse:
Who quickly fell before him, in which hurtling
From miserable slumber I awaked
Cel. Are you his brother?
Ros. Was't you he rescu'd?
Cel. Was't you that did so oft contriue to kill him?
Oli. 'Twas I: but 'tis not I: I doe not shame
To tell you what I was, since my conuersion
So sweetly tastes, being the thing I am
Ros. But for the bloody napkin?
Oli. By and by:
When from the first to last betwixt vs two,
Teares our recountments had most kindely bath'd,
As how I came into that Desert place.
In briefe, he led me to the gentle Duke,
Who gaue me fresh aray, and entertainment,
Committing me vnto my brothers loue,
Who led me instantly vnto his Caue,
There stript himselfe, and heere vpon his arme
The Lyonnesse had torne some flesh away,
Which all this while had bled; and now he fainted,
And cride in fainting vpon Rosalinde.
Briefe, I recouer'd him, bound vp his wound,
And after some small space, being strong at heart,
He sent me hither, stranger as I am
To tell this story, that you might excuse
His broken promise, and to giue this napkin
Died in this bloud, vnto the Shepheard youth,
That he in sport doth call his Rosalind
Cel. Why how now Ganimed, sweet Ganimed
Oli. Many will swoon when they do look on bloud
Cel. There is more in it; Cosen Ganimed
Oli. Looke, he recouers
Ros. I would I were at home
Cel. Wee'll lead you thither:
I pray you will you take him by the arme
Oli. Be of good cheere youth: you a man?
You lacke a mans heart
Ros. I doe so, I confesse it:
Ah, sirra, a body would thinke this was well counterfeited,
I pray you tell your brother how well I counterfeited:
heigh-ho
Oli. This was not counterfeit, there is too great testimony
in your complexion, that it was a passion of earnest
Ros. Counterfeit, I assure you
Oli. Well then, take a good heart, and counterfeit to
be a man
Ros. So I doe: but yfaith, I should haue beene a woman
by right
Cel. Come, you looke paler and paler: pray you draw
homewards: good sir, goe with vs
Oli. That will I: for I must beare answere backe
How you excuse my brother, Rosalind
Ros. I shall deuise something: but I pray you commend
my counterfeiting to him: will you goe?
Exeunt.
Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.
Enter Clowne and Awdrie.
Clow. We shall finde a time Awdrie, patience gentle
Awdrie
Awd. Faith the Priest was good enough, for all the
olde gentlemans saying
Clow. A most wicked Sir Oliuer, Awdrie, a most vile
Mar-text. But Awdrie, there is a youth heere in the
Forrest layes claime to you
Awd. I, I know who 'tis: he hath no interest in mee in the world: here comes the man you meane. Enter William.
Clo. It is meat and drinke to me to see a Clowne, by my troth, we that haue good wits, haue much to answer for: we shall be flouting: we cannot hold
Will. Good eu'n Audrey
Aud. God ye good eu'n William
Will. And good eu'n to you Sir
Clo. Good eu'n gentle friend. Couer thy head, couer
thy head: Nay prethee bee couer'd. How olde are you
Friend?
Will. Fiue and twentie Sir
Clo. A ripe age: Is thy name William?
Will. William, sir
Clo. A faire name. Was't borne i'th Forrest heere?
Will. I sir, I thanke God
Clo. Thanke God: A good answer:
Art rich?
Will. 'Faith sir, so, so
Cle. So, so, is good, very good, very excellent good:
and yet it is not, it is but so, so:
Art thou wise?
Will. I sir, I haue a prettie wit
Clo. Why, thou saist well. I do now remember a saying: The Foole doth thinke he is wise, but the wiseman knowes himselfe to be a Foole. The Heathen Philosopher, when he had a desire to eate a Grape, would open his lips when he put it into his mouth, meaning thereby, that Grapes were made to eate, and lippes to open. You do loue this maid? Will. I do sir
Clo. Giue me your hand: Art thou Learned?
Will. No sir
Clo. Then learne this of me, To haue, is to haue. For it is a figure in Rhetoricke, that drink being powr'd out of a cup into a glasse, by filling the one, doth empty the other. For all your Writers do consent, that ipse is hee: now you are not ipse, for I am he
Will. Which he sir? Clo. He sir, that must marrie this woman: Therefore you Clowne, abandon: which is in the vulgar, leaue the societie: which in the boorish, is companie, of this female: which in the common, is woman: which together, is, abandon the society of this Female, or Clowne thou perishest: or to thy better vnderstanding, dyest; or (to wit) I kill thee, make thee away, translate thy life into death, thy libertie into bondage: I will deale in poyson with thee, or in bastinado, or in steele: I will bandy with thee in faction, I will ore-run thee with policie: I will kill thee a hundred and fifty wayes, therefore tremble and depart
Aud. Do good William
Will. God rest you merry sir.
Exit
Enter Corin.
Cor. Our Master and Mistresse seekes you: come away,
away
Clo. Trip Audry, trip Audry, I attend,
I attend.
Exeunt.
Scoena Secunda.
Enter Orlando & Oliuer.
Orl. Is't possible, that on so little acquaintance you should like her? that, but seeing, you should loue her? And louing woo? and wooing, she should graunt? And will you perseuer to enioy her? Ol. Neither call the giddinesse of it in question; the pouertie of her, the small acquaintance, my sodaine woing, nor sodaine consenting: but say with mee, I loue Aliena: say with her, that she loues mee; consent with both, that we may enioy each other: it shall be to your good: for my fathers house, and all the reuennew, that was old Sir Rowlands will I estate vpon you, and heere liue and die a Shepherd. Enter Rosalind.
Orl. You haue my consent.
Let your Wedding be to morrow: thither will I
Inuite the Duke, and all's contented followers:
Go you, and prepare Aliena; for looke you,
Heere comes my Rosalinde
Ros. God saue you brother
Ol. And you faire sister
Ros. Oh my deere Orlando, how it greeues me to see thee weare thy heart in a scarfe
Orl. It is my arme
Ros. I thought thy heart had beene wounded with the clawes of a Lion
Orl. Wounded it is, but with the eyes of a Lady
Ros. Did your brother tell you how I counterfeyted
to sound, when he shew'd me your handkercher?
Orl. I, and greater wonders then that
Ros. O, I know where you are: nay, tis true: there was neuer any thing so sodaine, but the sight of two Rammes, and Cesars Thrasonicall bragge of I came, saw, and ouercome. For your brother, and my sister, no sooner met, but they look'd: no sooner look'd, but they lou'd; no sooner lou'd, but they sigh'd: no sooner sigh'd but they ask'd one another the reason: no sooner knew the reason, but they sought the remedie: and in these degrees, haue they made a paire of staires to marriage, which they will climbe incontinent, or else bee incontinent before marriage; they are in the verie wrath of loue, and they will together. Clubbes cannot part them
Orl. They shall be married to morrow: and I will bid the Duke to the Nuptiall. But O, how bitter a thing it is, to looke into happines through another mans eies: by so much the more shall I to morrow be at the height of heart heauinesse, by how much I shal thinke my brother happie, in hauing what he wishes for
Ros. Why then to morrow, I cannot serue your turne
for Rosalind?
Orl. I can liue no longer by thinking
Ros. I will wearie you then no longer with idle talking. Know of me then (for now I speake to some purpose) that I know you are a Gentleman of good conceit: I speake not this, that you should beare a good opinion of my knowledge: insomuch (I say) I know you are: neither do I labor for a greater esteeme then may in some little measure draw a beleefe from you, to do your selfe good, and not to grace me. Beleeue then, if you please, that I can do strange things: I haue since I was three yeare old conuerst with a Magitian, most profound in his Art, and yet not damnable. If you do loue Rosalinde so neere the hart, as your gesture cries it out: when your brother marries Aliena, shall you marrie her. I know into what straights of Fortune she is driuen, and it is not impossible to me, if it appeare not inconuenient to you, to set her before your eyes to morrow, humane as she is, and without any danger
Orl. Speak'st thou in sober meanings? Ros. By my life I do, which I tender deerly, though I say I am a Magitian: Therefore put you in your best aray, bid your friends: for if you will be married to morrow, you shall: and to Rosalind if you will. Enter Siluius & Phebe.
Looke, here comes a Louer of mine, and a louer of hers
Phe. Youth, you haue done me much vngentlenesse,
To shew the letter that I writ to you
Ros. I care not if I haue: it is my studie
To seeme despightfull and vngentle to you:
you are there followed by a faithful shepheard,
Looke vpon him, loue him: he worships you
Phe. Good shepheard, tell this youth what 'tis to loue
Sil. It is to be all made of sighes and teares,
And so am I for Phebe
Phe. And I for Ganimed
Orl. And I for Rosalind
Ros. And I for no woman
Sil. It is to be all made of faith and seruice,
And so am I for Phebe
Phe. And I for Ganimed
Orl. And I for Rosalind
Ros. And I for no woman
Sil. It is to be all made of fantasie,
All made of passion, and all made of wishes,
All adoration, dutie, and obseruance,
All humblenesse, all patience, and impatience,
All puritie, all triall, all obseruance:
And so am I for Phebe
Phe. And so am I for Ganimed
Orl. And so am I for Rosalind
Ros. And so am I for no woman
Phe. If this be so, why blame you me to loue you?
Sil. If this be so, why blame you me to loue you?
Orl. If this be so, why blame you me to loue you?
Ros. Why do you speake too, Why blame you mee
to loue you
Orl. To her, that is not heere, nor doth not heare
Ros. Pray you no more of this, 'tis like the howling of Irish Wolues against the Moone: I will helpe you if I can: I would loue you if I could: To morrow meet me altogether: I wil marrie you, if euer I marrie Woman, and Ile be married to morrow: I will satisfie you, if euer I satisfi'd man, and you shall bee married to morrow. I wil content you, if what pleases you contents you, and you shal be married to morrow: As you loue Rosalind meet, as you loue Phebe meet, and as I loue no woman, Ile meet: so fare you wel: I haue left you commands
Sil. Ile not faile, if I liue
Phe. Nor I
Orl. Nor I.
Exeunt.
Scoena Tertia.
Enter Clowne and Audrey.
Clo. To morrow is the ioyfull day Audrey, to morow
will we be married
Aud. I do desire it with all my heart: and I hope it is
no dishonest desire, to desire to be a woman of y world?
Heere come two of the banish'd Dukes Pages.
Enter two Pages.
1.Pa. Wel met honest Gentleman
Clo. By my troth well met: come, sit, sit, and a song
2.Pa. We are for you, sit i'th middle
1.Pa. Shal we clap into't roundly, without hauking, or spitting, or saying we are hoarse, which are the onely prologues to a bad voice
2.Pa. I faith, y'faith, and both in a tune like two gipsies on a horse.
Song.
It was a Louer, and his lasse,
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,
That o're the greene corne feild did passe,
In the spring time, the onely pretty rang time.
When Birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding.
Sweet Louers loue the spring,
And therefore take the present time.
With a hey, & a ho, and a hey nonino,
For loue is crowned with the prime.
In spring time, &c.
Betweene the acres of the Rie,
With a hey, and a ho, & a hey nonino:
These prettie Country folks would lie.
In spring time, &c.
This Carroll they began that houre,
With a hey and a ho, & a hey nonino:
How that a life was but a Flower,
In spring time, &c
Clo. Truly yong Gentlemen, though there was no
great matter in the dittie, yet y note was very vntunable
1.Pa. you are deceiu'd Sir, we kept time, we lost not
our time
Clo. By my troth yes: I count it but time lost to heare such a foolish song. God buy you, and God mend your voices. Come Audrie.
Exeunt.
Scena Quarta.
Enter Duke Senior, Amyens, Iaques, Orlando, Oliuer, Celia.
Du.Sen. Dost thou beleeue Orlando, that the boy
Can do all this that he hath promised?
Orl. I sometimes do beleeue, and somtimes do not,
As those that feare they hope, and know they feare.
Enter Rosalinde, Siluius, & Phebe.
Ros. Patience once more, whiles our co[m]pact is vrg'd:
You say, if I bring in your Rosalinde,
You wil bestow her on Orlando heere?
Du.Se. That would I, had I kingdoms to giue with hir
Ros. And you say you wil haue her, when I bring hir?
Orl. That would I, were I of all kingdomes King
Ros. You say, you'l marrie me, if I be willing
Phe. That will I, should I die the houre after
Ros. But if you do refuse to marrie me,
You'l giue your selfe to this most faithfull Shepheard
Phe. So is the bargaine
Ros. You say that you'l haue Phebe if she will
Sil. Though to haue her and death, were both one
thing
Ros. I haue promis'd to make all this matter euen:
Keepe you your word, O Duke, to giue your daughter,
You yours Orlando, to receiue his daughter:
Keepe you your word Phebe, that you'l marrie me,
Or else refusing me to wed this shepheard:
Keepe your word Siluius, that you'l marrie her
If she refuse me, and from hence I go
To make these doubts all euen.
Exit Ros. and Celia.
Du.Sen. I do remember in this shepheard boy,
Some liuely touches of my daughters fauour
Orl. My Lord, the first time that I euer saw him,
Me thought he was a brother to your daughter:
But my good Lord, this Boy is Forrest borne,
And hath bin tutor'd in the rudiments
Of many desperate studies, by his vnckle,
Whom he reports to be a great Magitian.
Enter Clowne and Audrey.
Obscured in the circle of this Forrest
Iaq. There is sure another flood toward, and these couples are comming to the Arke. Here comes a payre of verie strange beasts, which in all tongues, are call'd Fooles
Clo. Salutation and greeting to you all
Iaq. Good my Lord, bid him welcome: This is the Motley-minded Gentleman, that I haue so often met in the Forrest: he hath bin a Courtier he sweares
Clo. If any man doubt that, let him put mee to my purgation, I haue trod a measure, I haue flattred a Lady, I haue bin politicke with my friend, smooth with mine enemie, I haue vndone three Tailors, I haue had foure quarrels, and like to haue fought one
Iaq. And how was that tane vp?
Clo. 'Faith we met, and found the quarrel was vpon
the seuenth cause
Iaq. How seuenth cause? Good my Lord, like this
fellow
Du.Se. I like him very well
Clo. God'ild you sir, I desire you of the like: I presse in heere sir, amongst the rest of the Country copulatiues to sweare, and to forsweare, according as mariage binds and blood breakes: a poore virgin sir, an il-fauor'd thing sir, but mine owne, a poore humour of mine sir, to take that that no man else will: rich honestie dwels like a miser sir, in a poore house, as your Pearle in your foule oyster
Du.Se. By my faith, he is very swift, and sententious
Clo. According to the fooles bolt sir, and such dulcet
diseases
Iaq. But for the seuenth cause. How did you finde the quarrell on the seuenth cause? Clo. Vpon a lye, seuen times remoued: (beare your bodie more seeming Audry) as thus sir: I did dislike the cut of a certaine Courtiers beard: he sent me word, if I said his beard was not cut well, hee was in the minde it was: this is call'd the retort courteous. If I sent him word againe, it was not well cut, he wold send me word he cut it to please himselfe: this is call'd the quip modest. If againe, it was not well cut, he disabled my iudgment: this is called, the reply churlish. If againe it was not well cut, he would answer I spake not true: this is call'd the reproofe valiant. If againe, it was not well cut, he wold say, I lie: this is call'd the counter-checke quarrelsome: and so to lye circumstantiall, and the lye direct
Iaq. And how oft did you say his beard was not well cut? Clo. I durst go no further then the lye circumstantial: nor he durst not giue me the lye direct: and so wee measur'd swords, and parted
Iaq. Can you nominate in order now, the degrees of the lye
Clo. O sir, we quarrel in print, by the booke: as you haue bookes for good manners: I will name you the degrees. The first, the Retort courteous: the second, the Quip-modest: the third, the reply Churlish: the fourth, the Reproofe valiant: the fift, the Counterchecke quarrelsome: the sixt, the Lye with circumstance: the seauenth, the Lye direct: all these you may auoyd, but the Lye direct: and you may auoide that too, with an If. I knew when seuen Iustices could not take vp a Quarrell, but when the parties were met themselues, one of them thought but of an If; as if you saide so, then I saide so: and they shooke hands, and swore brothers. Your If, is the onely peace-maker: much vertue in if
Iaq. Is not this a rare fellow my Lord? He's as good at any thing, and yet a foole
Du.Se. He vses his folly like a stalking-horse, and vnder the presentation of that he shoots his wit. Enter Hymen, Rosalind, and Celia.
Still Musicke.
Hymen. Then is there mirth in heauen,
When earthly things made eauen
attone together.
Good Duke receiue thy daughter,
Hymen from Heauen brought her,
Yea brought her hether.
That thou mightst ioyne his hand with his,
Whose heart within his bosome is
Ros. To you I giue my selfe, for I am yours.
To you I giue my selfe, for I am yours
Du.Se. If there be truth in sight, you are my daughter
Orl. If there be truth in sight, you are my Rosalind
Phe. If sight & shape be true, why then my loue adieu
Ros. Ile haue no Father, if you be not he:
Ile haue no Husband, if you be not he:
Nor ne're wed woman, if you be not shee
Hy. Peace hoa: I barre confusion,
'Tis I must make conclusion
Of these most strange euents:
Here's eight that must take hands,
To ioyne in Hymens bands,
If truth holds true contents.
You and you, no crosse shall part;
You and you, are hart in hart:
You, to his loue must accord,
Or haue a Woman to your Lord.
You and you, are sure together,
As the Winter to fowle Weather:
Whiles a Wedlocke Hymne we sing,
Feede your selues with questioning:
That reason, wonder may diminish
How thus we met, and these things finish.
Song.
Wedding is great Iunos crowne,
O blessed bond of boord and bed:
'Tis Hymen peoples euerie towne,
High wedlock then be honored:
Honor, high honor and renowne
To Hymen, God of euerie Towne
Du.Se. O my deere Neece, welcome thou art to me,
Euen daughter welcome, in no lesse degree
Phe. I wil not eate my word, now thou art mine,
Thy faith, my fancie to thee doth combine.
Enter Second Brother.
2.Bro. Let me haue audience for a word or two:
I am the second sonne of old Sir Rowland,
That bring these tidings to this faire assembly.
Duke Frederick hearing how that euerie day
Men of great worth resorted to this forrest,
Addrest a mightie power, which were on foote
In his owne conduct, purposely to take
His brother heere, and put him to the sword:
And to the skirts of this wilde Wood he came;
Where, meeting with an old Religious man,
After some question with him, was conuerted
Both from his enterprize, and from the world:
His crowne bequeathing to his banish'd Brother,
And all their Lands restor'd to him againe
That were with him exil'd. This to be true,
I do engage my life
Du.Se. Welcome yong man:
Thou offer'st fairely to thy brothers wedding:
To one his lands with-held, and to the other
A land it selfe at large, a potent Dukedome.
First, in this Forrest, let vs do those ends
That heere were well begun, and wel begot:
And after, euery of this happie number
That haue endur'd shrew'd daies, and nights with vs,
Shal share the good of our returned fortune,
According to the measure of their states.
Meane time, forget this new-falne dignitie,
And fall into our Rusticke Reuelrie:
Play Musicke, and you Brides and Bride-groomes all,
With measure heap'd in ioy, to'th Measures fall
Iaq. Sir, by your patience: if I heard you rightly,
The Duke hath put on a Religious life,
And throwne into neglect the pompous Court
2.Bro. He hath
Iaq. To him will I: out of these conuertites, There is much matter to be heard, and learn'd: you to your former Honor, I bequeath your patience, and your vertue, well deserues it. you to a loue, that your true faith doth merit: you to your land, and loue, and great allies: you to a long, and well-deserued bed: And you to wrangling, for thy louing voyage Is but for two moneths victuall'd: So to your pleasures, I am for other, then for dancing meazures
Du.Se. Stay, Iaques, stay
Iaq. To see no pastime, I: what you would haue,
Ile stay to know, at your abandon'd caue.
Enter.
Du.Se. Proceed, proceed: wee'l begin these rights,
As we do trust, they'l end in true delights.
Exit
Ros. It is not the fashion to see the Ladie the Epilogue: but it is no more vnhandsome, then to see the Lord the Prologue. If it be true, that good wine needs no bush, 'tis true, that a good play needes no Epilogue. Yet to good wine they do vse good bushes: and good playes proue the better by the helpe of good Epilogues: What a case am I in then, that am neither a good Epilogue, nor cannot insinuate with you in the behalfe of a good play? I am not furnish'd like a Begger, therefore to begge will not become mee. My way is to coniure you, and Ile begin with the Women. I charge you (O women) for the loue you beare to men, to like as much of this Play, as please you: And I charge you (O men) for the loue you beare to women (as I perceiue by your simpring, none of you hates them) that betweene you, and the women, the play may please. If I were a Woman, I would kisse as many of you as had beards that pleas'd me, complexions that lik'd me, and breaths that I defi'de not: And I am sure, as many as haue good beards, or good faces, or sweet breaths, will for my kind offer, when I make curt'sie, bid me farewell. Enter.
FINIS. As you Like it.
The Taming of the Shrew
Actus primus. Scaena Prima.
Enter Begger and Hostes, Christophero Sly.
Begger. Ile pheeze you infaith
Host. A paire of stockes you rogue
Beg. Y'are a baggage, the Slies are no Rogues. Looke in the Chronicles, we came in with Richard Conqueror: therefore Paucas pallabris, let the world slide: Sessa
Host. You will not pay for the glasses you haue burst?
Beg. No, not a deniere: go by S[aint]. Ieronimie, goe to thy
cold bed, and warme thee
Host. I know my remedie, I must go fetch the Head-borough
Beg. Third, or fourth, or fift Borough, Ile answere him by Law. Ile not budge an inch boy: Let him come, and kindly.
Falles asleepe.
Winde hornes. Enter a Lord from hunting, with his traine.
Lo. Huntsman I charge thee, tender wel my hounds,
Brach Meriman, the poore Curre is imbost,
And couple Clowder with the deepe-mouth'd brach,
Saw'st thou not boy how Siluer made it good
At the hedge corner, in the couldest fault,
I would not loose the dogge for twentie pound
Hunts. Why Belman is as good as he my Lord,
He cried vpon it at the meerest losse,
And twice to day pick'd out the dullest sent,
Trust me, I take him for the better dogge
Lord. Thou art a Foole, if Eccho were as fleete,
I would esteeme him worth a dozen such:
But sup them well, and looke vnto them all,
To morrow I intend to hunt againe
Hunts. I will my Lord
Lord. What's heere? One dead, or drunke? See doth
he breath?
2.Hun. He breath's my Lord. Were he not warm'd
with Ale, this were a bed but cold to sleep so soundly
Lord. Oh monstrous beast, how like a swine he lyes.
Grim death, how foule and loathsome is thine image:
Sirs, I will practise on this drunken man.
What thinke you, if he were conuey'd to bed,
Wrap'd in sweet cloathes: Rings put vpon his fingers:
A most delicious banquet by his bed,
And braue attendants neere him when he wakes,
Would not the begger then forget himselfe?
1.Hun. Beleeue me Lord, I thinke he cannot choose
2.H. It would seem strange vnto him when he wak'd
Lord. Euen as a flatt'ring dreame, or worthles fancie.
Then take him vp, and manage well the iest:
Carrie him gently to my fairest Chamber,
And hang it round with all my wanton pictures:
Balme his foule head in warme distilled waters,
And burne sweet Wood to make the Lodging sweete:
Procure me Musicke readie when he wakes,
To make a dulcet and a heauenly sound:
And if he chance to speake, be readie straight
(And with a lowe submissiue reuerence)
Say, what is it your Honor wil command:
Let one attend him with a siluer Bason
Full of Rose-water, and bestrew'd with Flowers,
Another beare the Ewer: the third a Diaper,
And say wilt please your Lordship coole your hands.
Some one be readie with a costly suite,
And aske him what apparrel he will weare:
Another tell him of his Hounds and Horse,
And that his Ladie mournes at his disease,
Perswade him that he hath bin Lunaticke,
And when he sayes he is, say that he dreames,
For he is nothing but a mightie Lord:
This do, and do it kindly, gentle sirs,
It wil be pastime passing excellent,
If it be husbanded with modestie
1.Hunts. My Lord I warrant you we wil play our part As he shall thinke by our true diligence He is no lesse then what we say he is
Lord. Take him vp gently, and to bed with him,
And each one to his office when he wakes.
Sound trumpets.
Sirrah, go see what Trumpet 'tis that sounds,
Belike some Noble Gentleman that meanes
(Trauelling some iourney) to repose him heere.
Enter Seruingman.
How now? who is it?
Ser. An't please your Honor, Players
That offer seruice to your Lordship.
Enter Players.
Lord. Bid them come neere:
Now fellowes, you are welcome
Players. We thanke your Honor
Lord. Do you intend to stay with me to night?
2.Player. So please your Lordshippe to accept our
dutie
Lord. With all my heart. This fellow I remember,
Since once he plaide a Farmers eldest sonne,
'Twas where you woo'd the Gentlewoman so well:
I haue forgot your name: but sure that part
Was aptly fitted, and naturally perform'd
Sincklo. I thinke 'twas Soto that your honor meanes
Lord. 'Tis verie true, thou didst it excellent:
Well you are come to me in happie time,
The rather for I haue some sport in hand,
Wherein your cunning can assist me much.
There is a Lord will heare you play to night;
But I am doubtfull of your modesties,
Least (ouer-eying of his odde behauiour,
For yet his honor neuer heard a play)
You breake into some merrie passion,
And so offend him: for I tell you sirs,
If you should smile, he growes impatient
Plai. Feare not my Lord, we can contain our selues,
Were he the veriest anticke in the world
Lord. Go sirra, take them to the Butterie,
And giue them friendly welcome euerie one,
Let them want nothing that my house affoords.
Exit one with the Players.
Sirra go you to Bartholmew my Page,
And see him drest in all suites like a Ladie:
That done, conduct him to the drunkards chamber,
And call him Madam, do him obeisance:
Tell him from me (as he will win my loue)
He beare himselfe with honourable action,
Such as he hath obseru'd in noble Ladies
Vnto their Lords, by them accomplished,
Such dutie to the drunkard let him do:
With soft lowe tongue, and lowly curtesie,
And say: What is't your Honor will command,
Wherein your Ladie, and your humble wife,
May shew her dutie, and make knowne her loue.
And then with kinde embracements, tempting kisses,
And with declining head into his bosome
Bid him shed teares, as being ouer-ioyed
To see her noble Lord restor'd to health,
Who for this seuen yeares hath esteemed him
No better then a poore and loathsome begger:
And if the boy haue not a womans guift
To raine a shower of commanded teares,
An Onion wil do well for such a shift,
Which in a Napkin (being close conuei'd)
Shall in despight enforce a waterie eie:
See this dispatch'd with all the hast thou canst,
Anon Ile giue thee more instructions.
Exit a seruingman.
I know the boy will wel vsurpe the grace,
Voice, gate, and action of a Gentlewoman:
I long to heare him call the drunkard husband,
And how my men will stay themselues from laughter,
When they do homage to this simple peasant,
Ile in to counsell them: haply my presence
May well abate the ouer-merrie spleene,
Which otherwise would grow into extreames.
Enter aloft the drunkard with attendants, some with apparel, Bason
and
Ewer, & other appurtenances, & Lord.
Beg. For Gods sake a pot of small Ale
1.Ser. Wilt please your Lord drink a cup of sacke? 2.Ser. Wilt please your Honor taste of these Conserues? 3.Ser. What raiment wil your honor weare to day
Beg. I am Christophero Sly, call not mee Honour nor Lordship: I ne're drank sacke in my life: and if you giue me any Conserues, giue me conserues of Beefe: nere ask me what raiment Ile weare, for I haue no more doublets then backes: no more stockings then legges: nor no more shooes then feet, nay sometime more feete then shooes, or such shooes as my toes looke through the ouer-leather
Lord. Heauen cease this idle humor in your Honor.
Oh that a mightie man of such discent,
Of such possessions, and so high esteeme
Should be infused with so foule a spirit
Beg. What would you make me mad? Am not I Christopher Slie, old Slies sonne of Burton-heath, by byrth a Pedler, by education a Cardmaker, by transmutation a Beare-heard, and now by present profession a Tinker. Aske Marrian Hacket the fat Alewife of Wincot, if shee know me not: if she say I am not xiiii.d. on the score for sheere Ale, score me vp for the lyingst knaue in Christen dome. What I am not bestraught: here's- 3.Man. Oh this it is that makes your Ladie mourne
2.Man. Oh this is it that makes your seruants droop
Lord. Hence comes it, that your kindred shuns your house
As beaten hence by your strange Lunacie.
Oh Noble Lord, bethinke thee of thy birth,
Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment,
And banish hence these abiect lowlie dreames:
Looke how thy seruants do attend on thee,
Each in his office readie at thy becke.
Wilt thou haue Musicke? Harke Apollo plaies,
Musick
And twentie caged Nightingales do sing.
Or wilt thou sleepe? Wee'l haue thee to a Couch,
Softer and sweeter then the lustfull bed
On purpose trim'd vp for Semiramis.
Say thou wilt walke: we wil bestrow the ground.
Or wilt thou ride? Thy horses shal be trap'd,
Their harnesse studded all with Gold and Pearle.
Dost thou loue hawking? Thou hast hawkes will soare
Aboue the morning Larke. Or wilt thou hunt,
Thy hounds shall make the Welkin answer them
And fetch shrill ecchoes from the hollow earth
1.Man. Say thou wilt course, thy gray-hounds are as swift
As breathed Stags: I fleeter then the Roe
2.M. Dost thou loue pictures? we wil fetch thee strait
Adonis painted by a running brooke,
And Citherea all in sedges hid,
Which seeme to moue and wanton with her breath,
Euen as the wauing sedges play with winde
Lord. Wee'l shew thee Io, as she was a Maid,
And how she was beguiled and surpriz'd,
As liuelie painted, as the deede was done
3.Man. Or Daphne roming through a thornie wood,
Scratching her legs, that one shal sweare she bleeds,
And at that sight shal sad Apollo weepe,
So workmanlie the blood and teares are drawne
Lord. Thou art a Lord, and nothing but a Lord:
Thou hast a Ladie farre more Beautifull,
Then any woman in this waining age
1.Man. And til the teares that she hath shed for thee,
Like enuious flouds ore-run her louely face,
She was the fairest creature in the world,
And yet shee is inferiour to none
Beg. Am I a Lord, and haue I such a Ladie?
Or do I dreame? Or haue I dream'd till now?
I do not sleepe: I see, I heare, I speake:
I smel sweet sauours, and I feele soft things:
Vpon my life I am a Lord indeede,
And not a Tinker, nor Christopher Slie.
Well, bring our Ladie hither to our sight,
And once againe a pot o'th smallest Ale
2.Man. Wilt please your mightinesse to wash your
hands:
Oh how we ioy to see your wit restor'd,
Oh that once more you knew but what you are:
These fifteene yeeres you haue bin in a dreame,
Or when you wak'd, so wak'd as if you slept
Beg. These fifteene yeeres, by my fay, a goodly nap,
But did I neuer speake of all that time
1.Man. Oh yes my Lord, but verie idle words,
For though you lay heere in this goodlie chamber,
Yet would you say, ye were beaten out of doore,
And raile vpon the Hostesse of the house,
And say you would present her at the Leete,
Because she brought stone-Iugs, and no seal'd quarts:
Sometimes you would call out for Cicely Hacket
Beg. I, the womans maide of the house
3.Man. Why sir you know no house, nor no such maid
Nor no such men as you haue reckon'd vp,
As Stephen Slie, and old Iohn Naps of Greece,
And Peter Turph, and Henry Pimpernell,
And twentie more such names and men as these,
Which neuer were, nor no man euer saw
Beg. Now Lord be thanked for my good amends
All. Amen.
Enter Lady with Attendants.
Beg. I thanke thee, thou shalt not loose by it
Lady. How fares my noble Lord?
Beg. Marrie I fare well, for heere is cheere enough.
Where is my wife?
La. Heere noble Lord, what is thy will with her?
Beg. Are you my wife, and will not cal me husband?
My men should call me Lord, I am your good-man
La. My husband and my Lord, my Lord and husband
I am your wife in all obedience
Beg. I know it well, what must I call her?
Lord. Madam
Beg. Alce Madam, or Ione Madam?
Lord. Madam, and nothing else, so Lords cal Ladies
Beg. Madame wife, they say that I haue dream'd,
And slept aboue some fifteene yeare or more
Lady. I, and the time seeme's thirty vnto me,
Being all this time abandon'd from your bed
Beg. 'Tis much, seruants leaue me and her alone:
Madam vndresse you, and come now to bed
La. Thrice noble Lord, let me intreat of you
To pardon me yet for a night or two:
Or if not so, vntill the Sun be set.
For your Physitians haue expressely charg'd,
In perill to incurre your former malady,
That I should yet absent me from your bed:
I hope this reason stands for my excuse
Beg. I, it stands so that I may hardly tarry so long:
But I would be loth to fall into my dreames againe: I
wil therefore tarrie in despight of the flesh & the blood
Enter a Messenger.
Mes. Your Honors Players hearing your amendment,
Are come to play a pleasant Comedie,
For so your doctors hold it very meete,
Seeing too much sadnesse hath congeal'd your blood,
And melancholly is the Nurse of frenzie,
Therefore they thought it good you heare a play,
And frame your minde to mirth and merriment,
Which barres a thousand harmes, and lengthens life
Beg. Marrie I will let them play, it is not a Comontie,
a Christmas gambold, or a tumbling tricke?
Lady. No my good Lord, it is more pleasing stuffe
Beg. What, houshold stuffe
Lady. It is a kinde of history
Beg. Well, we'l see't:
Come Madam wife sit by my side,
And let the world slip, we shall nere be yonger.
Flourish. Enter Lucentio, and his man Triano.
Luc. Tranio, since for the great desire I had
To see faire Padua, nurserie of Arts,
I am arriu'd for fruitfull Lumbardie,
The pleasant garden of great Italy,
And by my fathers loue and leaue am arm'd
With his good will, and thy good companie.
My trustie seruant well approu'd in all,
Heere let vs breath, and haply institute
A course of Learning, and ingenious studies.
Pisa renowned for graue Citizens
Gaue me my being, and my father first
A Merchant of great Trafficke through the world:
Vincentio's come of the Bentiuolij,
Vincentio's sonne, brought vp in Florence,
It shall become to serue all hopes conceiu'd
To decke his fortune with his vertuous deedes:
And therefore Tranio, for the time I studie,
Vertue and that part of Philosophie
Will I applie, that treats of happinesse,
By vertue specially to be atchieu'd.
Tell me thy minde, for I haue Pisa left,
And am to Padua come, as he that leaues
A shallow plash, to plunge him in the deepe,
And with sacietie seekes to quench his thirst
Tra. Me Pardonato, gentle master mine:
I am in all affected as your selfe,
Glad that you thus continue your resolue,
To sucke the sweets of sweete Philosophie.
Onely (good master) while we do admire
This vertue, and this morall discipline,
Let's be no Stoickes, nor no stockes I pray,
Or so deuote to Aristotles checkes
As Ouid; be an out-cast quite abiur'd:
Balke Lodgicke with acquaintance that you haue,
And practise Rhetoricke in your common talke,
Musicke and Poesie vse, to quicken you,
The Mathematickes, and the Metaphysickes
Fall to them as you finde your stomacke serues you:
No profit growes, where is no pleasure tane:
In briefe sir, studie what you most affect
Luc. Gramercies Tranio, well dost thou aduise,
If Biondello thou wert come ashore,
We could at once put vs in readinesse,
And take a Lodging fit to entertaine
Such friends (as time) in Padua shall beget.
But stay a while, what companie is this?
Tra. Master some shew to welcome vs to Towne.
Enter Baptista with his two daughters, Katerina & Bianca, Gremio
a
Pantelowne, Hortentio sister to Bianca. Lucen. Tranio, stand by.
Bap. Gentlemen, importune me no farther,
For how I firmly am resolu'd you know:
That is, not to bestow my yongest daughter,
Before I haue a husband for the elder:
If either of you both loue Katherina,
Because I know you well, and loue you well,
Leaue shall you haue to court her at your pleasure
Gre. To cart her rather. She's to rough for mee,
There, there Hortensio, will you any Wife?
Kate. I pray you sir, is it your will
To make a stale of me amongst these mates?
Hor. Mates maid, how meane you that?
No mates for you,
Vnlesse you were of gentler milder mould
Kate. I'faith sir, you shall neuer neede to feare,
Iwis it is not halfe way to her heart:
But if it were, doubt not, her care should be,
To combe your noddle with a three-legg'd stoole,
And paint your face, and vse you like a foole
Hor. From all such diuels, good Lord deliuer vs
Gre. And me too, good Lord
Tra. Husht master, heres some good pastime toward;
That wench is starke mad, or wonderfull froward
Lucen. But in the others silence do I see,
Maids milde behauiour and sobrietie.
Peace Tranio
Tra. Well said Mr, mum, and gaze your fill
Bap. Gentlemen, that I may soone make good
What I haue said, Bianca get you in,
And let it not displease thee good Bianca,
For I will loue thee nere the lesse my girle
Kate. A pretty peate, it is best put finger in the eye,
and she knew why
Bian. Sister content you, in my discontent.
Sir, to your pleasure humbly I subscribe:
My bookes and instruments shall be my companie,
On them to looke, and practise by my selfe
Luc. Harke Tranio, thou maist heare Minerua speak
Hor. Signior Baptista, will you be so strange,
Sorrie am I that our good will effects
Bianca's greefe
Gre. Why will you mew her vp
(Signior Baptista) for this fiend of hell,
And make her beare the pennance of her tongue
Bap. Gentlemen content ye: I am resolud:
Go in Bianca.
And for I know she taketh most delight
In Musicke, Instruments, and Poetry,
Schoolemasters will I keepe within my house,
Fit to instruct her youth. If you Hortensio,
Or signior Gremio you know any such,
Preferre them hither: for to cunning men,
I will be very kinde and liberall,
To mine owne children, in good bringing vp,
And so farewell: Katherina you may stay,
For I haue more to commune with Bianca.
Enter.
Kate. Why, and I trust I may go too, may I not?
What shall I be appointed houres, as though
(Belike) I knew not what to take,
And what to leaue? Ha.
Exit
Gre. You may go to the diuels dam: your guifts are so good heere's none will holde you: Their loue is not so great Hortensio, but we may blow our nails together, and fast it fairely out. Our cakes dough on both sides. Farewell: yet for the loue I beare my sweet Bianca, if I can by any meanes light on a fit man to teach her that wherein she delights, I will wish him to her father
Hor. So will I signiour Gremio: but a word I pray: Though the nature of our quarrell yet neuer brook'd parle, know now vpon aduice, it toucheth vs both: that we may yet againe haue accesse to our faire Mistris, and be happie riuals in Bianca's loue, to labour and effect one thing specially
Gre. What's that I pray?
Hor. Marrie sir to get a husband for her Sister
Gre. A husband: a diuell
Hor. I say a husband
Gre. I say, a diuell: Think'st thou Hortensio, though her father be verie rich, any man is so verie a foole to be married to hell? Hor. Tush Gremio: though it passe your patience & mine to endure her lowd alarums, why man there bee good fellowes in the world, and a man could light on them, would take her with all faults, and mony enough
Gre. I cannot tell: but I had as lief take her dowrie with this condition; To be whipt at the hie crosse euerie morning
Hor. Faith (as you say) there's small choise in rotten apples: but come, since this bar in law makes vs friends, it shall be so farre forth friendly maintain'd, till by helping Baptistas eldest daughter to a husband, wee set his yongest free for a husband, and then haue too't afresh: Sweet Bianca, happy man be his dole: hee that runnes fastest, gets the Ring: How say you signior Gremio? Grem. I am agreed, and would I had giuen him the best horse in Padua to begin his woing that would thoroughly woe her, wed her, and bed her, and ridde the house of her. Come on.
Exeunt. ambo. Manet Tranio and Lucentio
Tra. I pray sir tel me, is it possible
That loue should of a sodaine take such hold
Luc. Oh Tranio, till I found it to be true,
I neuer thought it possible or likely.
But see, while idely I stood looking on,
I found the effect of Loue in idlenesse,
And now in plainnesse do confesse to thee
That art to me as secret and as deere
As Anna to the Queene of Carthage was:
Tranio I burne, I pine, I perish Tranio,
If I atchieue not this yong modest gyrle:
Counsaile me Tranio, for I know thou canst:
Assist me Tranio, for I know thou wilt
Tra. Master, it is no time to chide you now,
Affection is not rated from the heart:
If loue haue touch'd you, naught remaines but so,
Redime te captam quam queas minimo
Luc. Gramercies Lad: Go forward, this contents,
The rest wil comfort, for thy counsels sound
Tra. Master, you look'd so longly on the maide,
Perhaps you mark'd not what's the pith of all
Luc. Oh yes, I saw sweet beautie in her face,
Such as the daughter of Agenor had,
That made great Ioue to humble him to her hand,
When with his knees he kist the Cretan strond
Tra. Saw you no more? Mark'd you not how hir sister
Began to scold, and raise vp such a storme,
That mortal eares might hardly indure the din
Luc. Tranio, I saw her corrall lips to moue,
And with her breath she did perfume the ayre,
Sacred and sweet was all I saw in her
Tra. Nay, then 'tis time to stirre him fro[m] his trance:
I pray awake sir: if you loue the Maide,
Bend thoughts and wits to atcheeue her. Thus it stands:
Her elder sister is so curst and shrew'd,
That til the Father rid his hands of her,
Master, your Loue must liue a maide at home,
And therefore has he closely meu'd her vp,
Because she will not be annoy'd with suters
Luc. Ah Tranio, what a cruell Fathers he:
But art thou not aduis'd, he tooke some care
To get her cunning Schoolemasters to instruct her
Tra. I marry am I sir, and now 'tis plotted
Luc. I haue it Tranio
Tra. Master, for my hand,
Both our inuentions meet and iumpe in one
Luc. Tell me thine first
Tra. You will be schoole-master,
And vndertake the teaching of the maid:
That's your deuice
Luc. It is: May it be done?
Tra. Not possible: for who shall beare your part,
And be in Padua heere Vincentio's sonne,
Keepe house, and ply his booke, welcome his friends,
Visit his Countrimen, and banquet them?
Luc. Basta, content thee: for I haue it full.
We haue not yet bin seene in any house,
Nor can we be distinguish'd by our faces,
For man or master: then it followes thus;
Thou shalt be master, Tranio in my sted:
Keepe house, and port, and seruants, as I should,
I will some other be, some Florentine,
Some Neapolitan, or meaner man of Pisa.
'Tis hatch'd, and shall be so: Tranio at once
Vncase thee: take my Coulord hat and cloake,
When Biondello comes, he waites on thee,
But I will charme him first to keepe his tongue
Tra. So had you neede:
In breefe Sir, sith it your pleasure is,
And I am tyed to be obedient,
For so your father charg'd me at our parting:
Be seruiceable to my sonne (quoth he)
Although I thinke 'twas in another sense,
I am content to bee Lucentio,
Because so well I loue Lucentio
Luc. Tranio be so, because Lucentio loues,
And let me be a slaue, t' atchieue that maide,
Whose sodaine sight hath thral'd my wounded eye.
Enter Biondello.
Heere comes the rogue. Sirra, where haue you bin?
Bion. Where haue I beene? Nay how now, where
are you? Maister, ha's my fellow Tranio stolne your
cloathes, or you stolne his, or both? Pray what's the
newes?
Luc. Sirra come hither, 'tis no time to iest,
And therefore frame your manners to the time
Your fellow Tranio heere to saue my life,
Puts my apparrell, and my count'nance on,
And I for my escape haue put on his:
For in a quarrell since I came a-shore,
I kil'd a man, and feare I was descried:
Waite you on him, I charge you, as becomes:
While I make way from hence to saue my life:
You vnderstand me?
Bion. I sir, ne're a whit
Luc. And not a iot of Tranio in your mouth,
Tranio is chang'd into Lucentio
Bion. The better for him, would I were so too
Tra. So could I 'faith boy, to haue the next wish after, that Lucentio indeede had Baptistas yongest daughter. But sirra, not for my sake, but your masters, I aduise you vse your manners discreetly in all kind of companies: When I am alone, why then I am Tranio: but in all places else, your master Lucentio
Luc. Tranio let's go:
One thing more rests, that thy selfe execute,
To make one among these wooers: if thou ask me why,
Sufficeth my reasons are both good and waighty.
Exeunt. The Presenters aboue speakes.
1.Man. My Lord you nod, you do not minde the play
Beg. Yes by Saint Anne do I, a good matter surely:
Comes there any more of it?
Lady. My Lord, 'tis but begun
Beg. 'Tis a verie excellent peece of worke, Madame
Ladie: would 'twere done.
They sit and marke.
Enter Petruchio, and his man Grumio.
Petr. Verona, for a while I take my leaue,
To see my friends in Padua; but of all
My best beloued and approued friend
Hortensio: & I trow this is his house:
Heere sirra Grumio, knocke I say
Gru. Knocke sir? whom should I knocke? Is there
any man ha's rebus'd your worship?
Petr. Villaine I say, knocke me heere soundly
Gru. Knocke you heere sir? Why sir, what am I sir,
that I should knocke you heere sir
Petr. Villaine I say, knocke me at this gate,
And rap me well, or Ile knocke your knaues pate
Gru. My Mr is growne quarrelsome:
I should knocke you first,
And then I know after who comes by the worst
Petr. Will it not be?
'Faith sirrah, and you'l not knocke, Ile ring it,
Ile trie how you can Sol, Fa, and sing it.
He rings him by the eares
Gru. Helpe mistris helpe, my master is mad
Petr. Now knocke when I bid you: sirrah villaine.
Enter Hortensio.
Hor. How now, what's the matter? My olde friend
Grumio, and my good friend Petruchio? How do you all
at Verona?
Petr. Signior Hortensio, come you to part the fray?
Contutti le core bene trobatto, may I say
Hor. Alla nostra casa bene venuto multo honorata signior
mio Petruchio.
Rise Grumio rise, we will compound this quarrell
Gru. Nay 'tis no matter sir, what he leges in Latine. If this be not a lawfull cause for me to leaue his seruice, looke you sir: He bid me knocke him, & rap him soundly sir. Well, was it fit for a seruant to vse his master so, being perhaps (for ought I see) two and thirty, a peepe out? Whom would to God I had well knockt at first, then had not Grumio come by the worst
Petr. A sencelesse villaine: good Hortensio,
I bad the rascall knocke vpon your gate,
And could not get him for my heart to do it
Gru. Knocke at the gate? O heauens: spake you not these words plaine? Sirra, Knocke me heere: rappe me heere: knocke me well, and knocke me soundly? And come you now with knocking at the gate? Petr. Sirra be gone, or talke not I aduise you
Hor. Petruchio patience, I am Grumio's pledge:
Why this a heauie chance twixt him and you,
Your ancient trustie pleasant seruant Grumio:
And tell me now (sweet friend) what happie gale
Blowes you to Padua heere, from old Verona?
Petr. Such wind as scatters yongmen throgh y world,
To seeke their fortunes farther then at home,
Where small experience growes but in a few.
Signior Hortensio, thus it stands with me,
Antonio my father is deceast,
And I haue thrust my selfe into this maze,
Happily to wiue and thriue, as best I may:
Crownes in my purse I haue, and goods at home,
And so am come abroad to see the world
Hor. Petruchio, shall I then come roundly to thee,
And wish thee to a shrew'd ill-fauour'd wife?
Thou'dst thanke me but a little for my counsell:
And yet Ile promise thee she shall be rich,
And verie rich: but th'art too much my friend,
And Ile not wish thee to her
Petr. Signior Hortensio, 'twixt such friends as wee,
Few words suffice: and therefore, if thou know
One rich enough to be Petruchio's wife:
(As wealth is burthen of my woing dance)
Be she as foule as was Florentius Loue,
As old as Sibell, and as curst and shrow'd
As Socrates Zentippe, or a worse:
She moues me not, or not remoues at least
Affections edge in me. Were she is as rough
As are the swelling Adriaticke seas.
I come to wiue it wealthily in Padua:
If wealthily, then happily in Padua
Gru. Nay looke you sir, hee tels you flatly what his minde is: why giue him Gold enough, and marrie him to a Puppet or an Aglet babie, or an old trot with ne're a tooth in her head, though she haue as manie diseases as two and fiftie horses. Why nothing comes amisse, so monie comes withall
Hor. Petruchio, since we are stept thus farre in,
I will continue that I broach'd in iest,
I can Petruchio helpe thee to a wife
With wealth enough, and yong and beautious,
Brought vp as best becomes a Gentlewoman.
Her onely fault, and that is faults enough,
Is, that she is intollerable curst,
And shrow'd, and froward, so beyond all measure,
That were my state farre worser then it is,
I would not wed her for a mine of Gold
Petr. Hortensio peace: thou knowst not golds effect,
Tell me her fathers name, and 'tis enough:
For I will boord her, though she chide as loud
As thunder, when the clouds in Autumne cracke
Hor. Her father is Baptista Minola,
An affable and courteous Gentleman,
Her name is Katherina Minola,
Renown'd in Padua for her scolding tongue
Petr. I know her father, though I know not her,
And he knew my deceased father well:
I wil not sleepe Hortensio til I see her,
And therefore let me be thus bold with you,
To giue you ouer at this first encounter,
Vnlesse you wil accompanie me thither
Gru . I pray you Sir let him go while the humor lasts. A my word, and she knew him as wel as I do, she would thinke scolding would doe little good vpon him. Shee may perhaps call him halfe a score Knaues, or so: Why that's nothing; and he begin once, hee'l raile in his rope trickes. Ile tell you what sir, and she stand him but a litle, he wil throw a figure in her face, and so disfigure hir with it, that shee shal haue no more eies to see withall then a Cat: you know him not sir
Hor. Tarrie Petruchio, I must go with thee,
For in Baptistas keepe my treasure is:
He hath the Iewel of my life in hold,
His yongest daughter, beautiful Bianca,
And her with-holds from me. Other more
Suters to her, and riuals in my Loue:
Supposing it a thing impossible,
For those defects I haue before rehearst,
That euer Katherina wil be woo'd:
Therefore this order hath Baptista tane,
That none shal haue accesse vnto Bianca,
Til Katherine the Curst, haue got a husband
Gru. Katherine the curst,
A title for a maide, of all titles the worst
Hor. Now shal my friend Petruchio do me grace,
And offer me disguis'd in sober robes,
To old Baptista as a schoole-master
Well seene in Musicke, to instruct Bianca,
That so I may by this deuice at least
Haue leaue and leisure to make loue to her,
And vnsuspected court her by her selfe.
Enter Gremio and Lucentio disguised.
Gru. Heere's no knauerie. See, to beguile the olde-folkes, how the young folkes lay their heads together. Master, master, looke about you: Who goes there? ha
Hor. Peace Grumio, it is the riuall of my Loue.
Petruchio stand by a while
Grumio. A proper stripling, and an amorous
Gremio. O very well, I haue perus'd the note:
Hearke you sir, Ile haue them verie fairely bound,
All bookes of Loue, see that at any hand,
And see you reade no other Lectures to her:
You vnderstand me. Ouer and beside
Signior Baptistas liberalitie,
Ile mend it with a Largesse. Take your paper too,
And let me haue them verie wel perfum'd;
For she is sweeter then perfume it selfe
To whom they go to: what wil you reade to her
Luc. What ere I reade to her, Ile pleade for you,
As for my patron, stand you so assur'd,
As firmely as your selfe were still in place,
Yea and perhaps with more successefull words
Then you; vnlesse you were a scholler sir
Gre. Oh this learning, what a thing it is
Gru. Oh this Woodcocke, what an Asse it is
Petru. Peace sirra
Hor. Grumio mum: God saue you signior Gremio
Gre. And you are wel met, Signior Hortensio.
Trow you whither I am going? To Baptista Minola,
I promist to enquire carefully
About a schoolemaster for the faire Bianca,
And by good fortune I haue lighted well
On this yong man: For learning and behauiour
Fit for her turne, well read in Poetrie
And other bookes, good ones, I warrant ye
Hor. 'Tis well: and I haue met a Gentleman
Hath promist me to helpe one to another,
A fine Musitian to instruct our Mistris,
So shal I no whit be behinde in dutie
To faire Bianca, so beloued of me
Gre. Beloued of me, and that my deeds shal proue
Gru. And that his bags shal proue
Hor. Gremio, 'tis now no time to vent our loue,
Listen to me, and if you speake me faire,
Ile tel you newes indifferent good for either.
Heere is a Gentleman whom by chance I met
Vpon agreement from vs to his liking,
Will vndertake to woo curst Katherine,
Yea, and to marrie her, if her dowrie please
Gre. So said, so done, is well:
Hortensio, haue you told him all her faults?
Petr. I know she is an irkesome brawling scold:
If that be all Masters, I heare no harme
Gre. No, sayst me so, friend? What Countreyman?
Petr. Borne in Verona, old Butonios sonne:
My father dead, my fortune liues for me,
And I do hope, good dayes and long, to see
Gre. Oh sir, such a life with such a wife, were strange:
But if you haue a stomacke, too't a Gods name,
You shal haue me assisting you in all.
But will you woo this Wilde-cat?
Petr. Will I liue?
Gru. Wil he woo her? I: or Ile hang her
Petr. Why came I hither, but to that intent?
Thinke you, a little dinne can daunt mine eares?
Haue I not in my time heard Lions rore?
Haue I not heard the sea, puft vp with windes,
Rage like an angry Boare, chafed with sweat?
Haue I not heard great Ordnance in the field?
And heauens Artillerie thunder in the skies?
Haue I not in a pitched battell heard
Loud larums, neighing steeds, & trumpets clangue?
And do you tell me of a womans tongue?
That giues not halfe so great a blow to heare,
As wil a Chesse-nut in a Farmers fire.
Tush, tush, feare boyes with bugs
Gru. For he feares none
Grem. Hortensio hearke:
This Gentleman is happily arriu'd,
My minde presumes for his owne good, and yours
Hor. I promist we would be Contributors,
And beare his charge of wooing whatsoere
Gremio. And so we wil, prouided that he win her
Gru. I would I were as sure of a good dinner.
Enter Tranio braue, and Biondello.
Tra. Gentlemen God saue you. If I may be bold
Tell me I beseech you, which is the readiest way
To the house of Signior Baptista Minola?
Bion. He that ha's the two faire daughters: ist he you
meane?
Tra. Euen he Biondello
Gre. Hearke you sir, you meane not her to-
Tra. Perhaps him and her sir, what haue you to do?
Petr. Not her that chides sir, at any hand I pray
Tranio. I loue no chiders sir: Biondello, let's away
Luc. Well begun Tranio
Hor. Sir, a word ere you go:
Are you a sutor to the Maid you talke of, yea or no?
Tra. And if I be sir, is it any offence?
Gremio. No: if without more words you will get you
hence
Tra. Why sir, I pray are not the streets as free
For me, as for you?
Gre. But so is not she
Tra. For what reason I beseech you
Gre. For this reason if you'l kno,
That she's the choise loue of Signior Gremio
Hor. That she's the chosen of signior Hortensio
Tra. Softly my Masters: If you be Gentlemen
Do me this right: heare me with patience.
Baptista is a noble Gentleman,
To whom my Father is not all vnknowne,
And were his daughter fairer then she is,
She may more sutors haue, and me for one.
Faire Laedaes daughter had a thousand wooers,
Then well one more may faire Bianca haue;
And so she shall: Lucentio shal make one,
Though Paris came, in hope to speed alone
Gre. What, this Gentleman will out-talke vs all
Luc. Sir giue him head, I know hee'l proue a Iade
Petr. Hortensio, to what end are all these words?
Hor. Sir, let me be so bold as aske you,
Did you yet euer see Baptistas daughter?
Tra. No sir, but heare I do that he hath two:
The one, as famous for a scolding tongue,
As is the other, for beauteous modestie
Petr. Sir, sir, the first's for me, let her go by
Gre. Yea, leaue that labour to great Hercules,
And let it be more then Alcides twelue
Petr. Sir vnderstand you this of me (insooth)
The yongest daughter whom you hearken for,
Her father keepes from all accesse of sutors,
And will not promise her to any man,
Vntill the elder sister first be wed.
The yonger then is free, and not before
Tranio. If it be so sir, that you are the man
Must steed vs all, and me amongst the rest:
And if you breake the ice, and do this seeke,
Atchieue the elder: set the yonger free,
For our accesse, whose hap shall be to haue her,
Wil not so gracelesse be, to be ingrate
Hor. Sir you say wel, and wel you do conceiue,
And since you do professe to be a sutor,
You must as we do, gratifie this Gentleman,
To whom we all rest generally beholding
Tranio. Sir, I shal not be slacke, in signe whereof,
Please ye we may contriue this afternoone,
And quaffe carowses to our Mistresse health,
And do as aduersaries do in law,
Striue mightily, but eate and drinke as friends
Gru. Bion. Oh excellent motion: fellowes let's be gon
Hor. The motions good indeed, and be it so,
Petruchio, I shal be your Been venuto.
Exeunt.
Enter Katherina and Bianca.
Bian. Good sister wrong me not, nor wrong your self,
To make a bondmaide and a slaue of mee,
That I disdaine: but for these other goods,
Vnbinde my hands, Ile pull them off my selfe,
Yea all my raiment, to my petticoate,
Or what you will command me, wil I do,
So well I know my dutie to my elders
Kate. Of all thy sutors heere I charge tel
Whom thou lou'st best: see thou dissemble not
Bianca. Beleeue me sister, of all the men aliue,
I neuer yet beheld that speciall face,
Which I could fancie, more then any other
Kate. Minion thou lyest: Is't not Hortensio?
Bian. If you affect him sister, heere I sweare
Ile pleade for you my selfe, but you shal haue him
Kate. Oh then belike you fancie riches more,
You wil haue Gremio to keepe you faire
Bian. Is it for him you do enuie me so?
Nay then you iest, and now I wel perceiue
You haue but iested with me all this while:
I prethee sister Kate, vntie my hands
Ka. If that be iest, then all the rest was so.
Strikes her
Enter Baptista.
Bap. Why how now Dame, whence growes this insolence?
Bianca stand aside, poore gyrle she weepes:
Go ply thy Needle, meddle not with her.
For shame thou Hilding of a diuellish spirit,
Why dost thou wrong her, that did nere wrong thee?
When did she crosse thee with a bitter word?
Kate. Her silence flouts me, and Ile be reueng'd.
Flies after Bianca
Bap. What in my sight? Bianca get thee in.
Enter.
Kate. What will you not suffer me: Nay now I see
She is your treasure, she must haue a husband,
I must dance bare-foot on her wedding day,
And for your loue to her, leade Apes in hell.
Talke not to me, I will go sit and weepe,
Till I can finde occasion of reuenge
Bap. Was euer Gentleman thus greeu'd as I?
But who comes heere.
Enter Gremio, Lucentio, in the habit of a meane man, Petruchio
with
Tranio, with his boy bearing a Lute and Bookes.
Gre. Good morrow neighbour Baptista
Bap. Good morrow neighbour Gremio: God saue
you Gentlemen
Pet. And you good sir: pray haue you not a daughter,
cal'd Katerina, faire and vertuous
Bap. I haue a daughter sir, cal'd Katerina
Gre. You are too blunt, go to it orderly
Pet. You wrong me signior Gremio, giue me leaue.
I am a Gentleman of Verona sir,
That hearing of her beautie, and her wit,
Her affability and bashfull modestie:
Her wondrous qualities, and milde behauiour,
Am bold to shew my selfe a forward guest
Within your house, to make mine eye the witnesse
Of that report, which I so oft haue heard,
And for an entrance to my entertainment,
I do present you with a man of mine
Cunning in Musicke, and the Mathematickes,
To instruct her fully in those sciences,
Whereof I know she is not ignorant,
Accept of him, or else you do me wrong.
His name is Litio, borne in Mantua
Bap. Y'are welcome sir, and he for your good sake.
But for my daughter Katerine, this I know,
She is not for your turne, the more my greefe
Pet. I see you do not meane to part with her,
Or else you like not of my companie
Bap. Mistake me not, I speake but as I finde,
Whence are you sir? What may I call your name
Pet. Petruchio is my name, Antonio's sonne,
A man well knowne throughout all Italy
Bap. I know him well: you are welcome for his sake
Gre. Sauing your tale Petruchio, I pray let vs that are poore petitioners speake too? Bacare, you are meruaylous forward
Pet. Oh, Pardon me signior Gremio, I would faine be
doing
Gre. I doubt it not sir. But you will curse
Your wooing neighbors: this is a guift
Very gratefull, I am sure of it, to expresse
The like kindnesse my selfe, that haue beene
More kindely beholding to you then any:
Freely giue vnto this yong Scholler, that hath
Beene long studying at Rhemes, as cunning
In Greeke, Latine, and other Languages,
As the other in Musicke and Mathematickes:
His name is Cambio: pray accept his seruice
Bap. A thousand thankes signior Gremio:
Welcome good Cambio. But gentle sir,
Me thinkes you walke like a stranger,
May I be so bold, to know the cause of your comming?
Tra. Pardon me sir, the boldnesse is mine owne,
That being a stranger in this Cittie heere,
Do make my selfe a sutor to your daughter,
Vnto Bianca, faire and vertuous:
Nor is your firme resolue vnknowne to me,
In the preferment of the eldest sister.
This liberty is all that I request,
That vpon knowledge of my Parentage,
I may haue welcome 'mongst the rest that woo,
And free accesse and fauour as the rest.
And toward the education of your daughters:
I heere bestow a simple instrument,
And this small packet of Greeke and Latine bookes:
If you accept them, then their worth is great:
Bap. Lucentio is your name, of whence I pray
Tra. Of Pisa sir, sonne to Vincentio
Bap. A mightie man of Pisa by report,
I know him well: you are verie welcome sir:
Take you the Lute, and you the set of bookes,
You shall go see your Pupils presently.
Holla, within.
Enter a Seruant
Sirrah, leade these Gentlemen
To my daughters, and tell them both
These are their Tutors, bid them vse them well,
We will go walke a little in the Orchard,
And then to dinner: you are passing welcome,
And so I pray you all to thinke your selues
Pet. Signior Baptista, my businesse asketh haste,
And euerie day I cannot come to woo,
You knew my father well, and in him me,
Left solie heire to all his Lands and goods,
Which I haue bettered rather then decreast,
Then tell me, if I get your daughters loue,
What dowrie shall I haue with her to wife
Bap. After my death, the one halfe of my Lands,
And in possession twentie thousand Crownes
Pet. And for that dowrie, Ile assure her of
Her widdow-hood, be it that she suruiue me
In all my Lands and Leases whatsoeuer,
Let specialties be therefore drawne betweene vs,
That couenants may be kept on either hand
Bap. I, when the speciall thing is well obtain'd,
That is her loue: for that is all in all
Pet. Why that is nothing: for I tell you father,
I am as peremptorie as she proud minded:
And where two raging fires meete together,
They do consume the thing that feedes their furie.
Though little fire growes great with little winde,
Yet extreme gusts will blow out fire and all:
So I to her, and so she yeelds to me,
For I am rough, and woo not like a babe
Bap. Well maist thou woo, and happy be thy speed:
But be thou arm'd for some vnhappie words
Pet. I to the proofe, as Mountaines are for windes,
That shakes not, though they blow perpetually.
Enter Hortensio with his head broke.
Bap. How now my friend, why dost thou looke so
pale?
Hor. For feare I promise you, if I looke pale
Bap. What, will my daughter proue a good Musitian?
Hor. I thinke she'l sooner proue a souldier,
Iron may hold with her, but neuer Lutes
Bap. Why then thou canst not break her to the Lute?
Hor. Why no, for she hath broke the Lute to me:
I did but tell her she mistooke her frets,
And bow'd her hand to teach her fingering,
When (with a most impatient diuellish spirit)
Frets call you these? (quoth she) Ile fume with them:
And with that word she stroke me on the head,
And through the instrument my pate made way,
And there I stood amazed for a while,
As on a Pillorie, looking through the Lute,
While she did call me Rascall, Fidler,
And twangling Iacke, with twentie such vilde tearmes,
As had she studied to misvse me so
Pet. Now by the world, it is a lustie Wench,
I loue her ten times more then ere I did,
Oh how I long to haue some chat with her
Bap. Wel go with me, and be not so discomfited.
Proceed in practise with my yonger daughter,
She's apt to learne, and thankefull for good turnes:
Signior Petruchio, will you go with vs,
Or shall I send my daughter Kate to you.
Exit. Manet Petruchio.
Pet. I pray you do. Ile attend her heere,
And woo her with some spirit when she comes,
Say that she raile, why then Ile tell her plaine,
She sings as sweetly as a Nightinghale:
Say that she frowne, Ile say she lookes as cleere
As morning Roses newly washt with dew:
Say she be mute, and will not speake a word,
Then Ile commend her volubility,
And say she vttereth piercing eloquence:
If she do bid me packe, Ile giue her thankes,
As though she bid me stay by her a weeke:
If she denie to wed, Ile craue the day
When I shall aske the banes, and when be married.
But heere she comes, and now Petruchio speake.
Enter Katerina
Good morrow Kate, for thats your name I heare
Kate. Well haue you heard, but something hard of
hearing:
They call me Katerine, that do talke of me
Pet. You lye infaith, for you are call'd plaine Kate,
And bony Kate, and sometimes Kate the curst:
But Kate, the prettiest Kate in Christendome,
Kate of Kate-hall, my super-daintie Kate,
For dainties are all Kates, and therefore Kate
Take this of me, Kate of my consolation,
Hearing thy mildnesse prais'd in euery Towne,
Thy vertues spoke of, and thy beautie sounded,
Yet not so deepely as to thee belongs,
My selfe am moou'd to woo thee for my wife
Kate. Mou'd, in good time, let him that mou'd you
hether
Remoue you hence: I knew you at the first
You were a mouable
Pet. Why, what's a mouable?
Kat. A ioyn'd stoole
Pet. Thou hast hit it: come sit on me
Kate. Asses are made to beare, and so are you
Pet. Women are made to beare, and so are you
Kate. No such Iade as you, if me you meane
Pet. Alas good Kate, I will not burthen thee,
For knowing thee to be but yong and light
Kate. Too light for such a swaine as you to catch,
And yet as heauie as my waight should be
Pet. Shold be, should: buzze
Kate. Well tane, and like a buzzard
Pet. Oh slow-wing'd Turtle, shal a buzard take thee?
Kat. I for a Turtle, as he takes a buzard
Pet. Come, come you Waspe, y'faith you are too
angrie
Kate. If I be waspish, best beware my sting
Pet. My remedy is then to plucke it out
Kate. I, if the foole could finde it where it lies
Pet. Who knowes not where a Waspe does weare
his sting? In his taile
Kate. In his tongue?
Pet. Whose tongue
Kate. Yours if you talke of tales, and so farewell
Pet. What with my tongue in your taile.
Nay, come againe, good Kate, I am a Gentleman,
Kate. That Ile trie.
She strikes him
Pet. I sweare Ile cuffe you, if you strike againe
Kate. So may you loose your armes,
If you strike me, you are no Gentleman,
And if no Gentleman, why then no armes
Pet. A Herald Kate? Oh put me in thy bookes
Kate. What is your Crest, a Coxcombe?
Pet. A comblesse Cocke, so Kate will be my Hen
Kate. No Cocke of mine, you crow too like a crauen
Pet. Nay come Kate, come: you must not looke so
sowre
Kate. It is my fashion when I see a Crab
Pet. Why heere's no crab, and therefore looke not sowre
Kate. There is, there is
Pet. Then shew it me
Kate. Had I a glasse, I would
Pet. What, you meane my face
Kate. Well aym'd of such a yong one
Pet. Now by S[aint]. George I am too yong for you
Kate. Yet you are wither'd
Pet. 'Tis with cares
Kate. I care not
Pet. Nay heare you Kate. Insooth you scape not so
Kate. I chafe you if I tarrie. Let me go
Pet. No, not a whit, I finde you passing gentle:
'Twas told me you were rough, and coy, and sullen,
And now I finde report a very liar:
For thou art pleasant, gamesome, passing courteous,
But slow in speech: yet sweet as spring-time flowers.
Thou canst not frowne, thou canst not looke a sconce,
Nor bite the lip, as angry wenches will,
Nor hast thou pleasure to be crosse in talke:
But thou with mildnesse entertain'st thy wooers,
With gentle conference, soft, and affable.
Why does the world report that Kate doth limpe?
Oh sland'rous world: Kate like the hazle twig
Is straight, and slender, and as browne in hue
As hazle nuts, and sweeter then the kernels:
Oh let me see thee walke: thou dost not halt
Kate. Go foole, and whom thou keep'st command
Pet. Did euer Dian so become a Groue
As Kate this chamber with her princely gate:
O be thou Dian, and let her be Kate,
And then let Kate be chaste, and Dian sportfull
Kate. Where did you study all this goodly speech?
Petr. It is extempore, from my mother wit
Kate. A witty mother, witlesse else her sonne
Pet. Am I not wise?
Kat. Yes, keepe you warme
Pet. Marry so I meane sweet Katherine in thy bed:
And therefore setting all this chat aside,
Thus in plaine termes: your father hath consented
That you shall be my wife; your dowry greed on,
And will you, nill you, I will marry you.
Now Kate, I am a husband for your turne,
For by this light, whereby I see thy beauty,
Thy beauty that doth make me like thee well,
Thou must be married to no man but me,
Enter Baptista, Gremio, Trayno.
For I am he am borne to tame you Kate,
And bring you from a wilde Kate to a Kate
Conformable as other houshold Kates:
Heere comes your father, neuer make deniall,
I must, and will haue Katherine to my wife
Bap. Now Signior Petruchio, how speed you with my daughter?
Pet. How but well sir? how but well?
It were impossible I should speed amisse
Bap. Why how now daughter Katherine, in your dumps?
Kat. Call you me daughter? now I promise you
You haue shewd a tender fatherly regard,
To wish me wed to one halfe Lunaticke,
A mad-cap ruffian, and a swearing Iacke,
That thinkes with oathes to face the matter out
Pet. Father, 'tis thus, your selfe and all the world
That talk'd of her, haue talk'd amisse of her:
If she be curst, it is for pollicie,
For shee's not froward, but modest as the Doue,
Shee is not hot, but temperate as the morne,
For patience shee will proue a second Grissell,
And Romane Lucrece for her chastitie:
And to conclude, we haue greed so well together,
That vpon sonday is the wedding day
Kate. Ile see thee hang'd on sonday first
Gre. Hark Petruchio, she saies shee'll see thee hang'd first
Tra. Is this your speeding? nay the[n] godnight our part
Pet. Be patient gentlemen, I choose her for my selfe,
If she and I be pleas'd, what's that to you?
'Tis bargain'd twixt vs twaine being alone,
That she shall still be curst in company.
I tell you 'tis incredible to beleeue
How much she loues me: oh the kindest Kate,
Shee hung about my necke, and kisse on kisse
Shee vi'd so fast, protesting oath on oath,
That in a twinke she won me to her loue.
Oh you are nouices, 'tis a world to see
How tame when men and women are alone,
A meacocke wretch can make the curstest shrew:
Giue me thy hand Kate, I will vnto Venice
To buy apparell 'gainst the wedding day;
Prouide the feast father, and bid the guests,
I will be sure my Katherine shall be fine
Bap. I know not what to say, but giue me your ha[n]ds,
God send you ioy, Petruchio, 'tis a match
Gre. Tra. Amen say we, we will be witnesses
Pet. Father, and wife, and gentlemen adieu,
I will to Venice, sonday comes apace,
We will haue rings, and things, and fine array,
And kisse me Kate, we will be married a sonday.
Exit Petruchio and Katherine.
Gre. Was euer match clapt vp so sodainly?
Bap. Faith Gentlemen now I play a marchants part,
And venture madly on a desperate Mart
Tra. Twas a commodity lay fretting by you,
'Twill bring you gaine, or perish on the seas
Bap. The gaine I seeke, is quiet me the match
Gre. No doubt but he hath got a quiet catch:
But now Baptista, to your yonger daughter,
Now is the day we long haue looked for,
I am your neighbour, and was suter first
Tra. And I am one that loue Bianca more
Then words can witnesse, or your thoughts can guesse
Gre. Yongling thou canst not loue so deare as I
Tra. Gray-beard thy loue doth freeze
Gre. But thine doth frie,
Skipper stand backe, 'tis age that nourisheth
Tra. But youth in Ladies eyes that florisheth
Bap. Content you gentlemen, I wil co[m]pound this strife
'Tis deeds must win the prize, and he of both
That can assure my daughter greatest dower,
Shall haue my Biancas loue.
Say signior Gremio, what can you assure her?
Gre. First, as you know, my house within the City
Is richly furnished with plate and gold,
Basons and ewers to laue her dainty hands:
My hangings all of tirian tapestry:
In Iuory cofers I haue stuft my crownes:
In Cypres chests my arras counterpoints,
Costly apparell, tents, and Canopies,
Fine Linnen, Turky cushions bost with pearle,
Vallens of Venice gold, in needle worke:
Pewter and brasse, and all things that belongs
To house or house-keeping: then at my farme
I haue a hundred milch-kine to the pale,
Sixe-score fat Oxen standing in my stalls,
And all things answerable to this portion.
My selfe am strooke in yeeres I must confesse,
And if I die to morrow this is hers,
If whil'st I liue she will be onely mine
Tra. That only came well in: sir, list to me,
I am my fathers heyre and onely sonne,
If I may haue your daughter to my wife,
Ile leaue her houses three or foure as good
Within rich Pisa walls, as any one
Old Signior Gremio has in Padua,
Besides, two thousand Duckets by the yeere
Of fruitfull land, all which shall be her ioynter.
What, haue I pincht you Signior Gremio?
Gre. Two thousand Duckets by the yeere of land,
My Land amounts not to so much in all:
That she shall haue, besides an Argosie
That now is lying in Marcellus roade:
What, haue I choakt you with an Argosie?
Tra. Gremio, 'tis knowne my father hath no lesse
Then three great Argosies, besides two Galliasses
And twelue tite Gallies, these I will assure her,
And twice as much what ere thou offrest next
Gre. Nay, I haue offred all, I haue no more,
And she can haue no more then all I haue,
If you like me, she shall haue me and mine
Tra. Why then the maid is mine from all the world
By your firme promise, Gremio is out-vied
Bap. I must confesse your offer is the best,
And let your father make her the assurance,
Shee is your owne, else you must pardon me:
If you should die before him, where's her dower?
Tra. That's but a cauill: he is olde, I young
Gre. And may not yong men die as well as old?
Bap. Well gentlemen, I am thus resolu'd,
On sonday next, you know
My daughter Katherine is to be married:
Now on the sonday following, shall Bianca
Be Bride to you, if you make this assurance:
If not, to Signior Gremio:
And so I take my leaue, and thanke you both.
Enter.
Gre. Adieu good neighbour: now I feare thee not:
Sirra, yong gamester, your father were a foole
To giue thee all, and in his wayning age
Set foot vnder thy table: tut, a toy,
An olde Italian foxe is not so kinde my boy.
Enter.
Tra. A vengeance on your crafty withered hide,
Yet I haue fac'd it with a card of ten:
'Tis in my head to doe my master good:
I see no reason but suppos'd Lucentio
Must get a father, call'd suppos'd Vincentio,
And that's a wonder: fathers commonly
Doe get their children: but in this case of woing,
A childe shall get a sire, if I faile not of my cunning.
Enter.
Actus Tertia.
Enter Lucentio, Hortentio, and Bianca.
Luc. Fidler forbeare, you grow too forward Sir,
Haue you so soone forgot the entertainment
Her sister Katherine welcom'd you withall
Hort. But wrangling pedant, this is
The patronesse of heauenly harmony:
Then giue me leaue to haue prerogatiue,
And when in Musicke we haue spent an houre,
Your Lecture shall haue leisure for as much
Luc. Preposterous Asse that neuer read so farre,
To know the cause why musicke was ordain'd:
Was it not to refresh the minde of man
After his studies, or his vsuall paine?
Then giue me leaue to read Philosophy,
And while I pause, serue in your harmony
Hort. Sirra, I will not beare these braues of thine
Bianc. Why gentlemen, you doe me double wrong,
To striue for that which resteth in my choice:
I am no breeching scholler in the schooles,
Ile not be tied to howres, nor pointed times,
But learne my Lessons as I please my selfe,
And to cut off all strife: heere sit we downe,
Take you your instrument, play you the whiles,
His Lecture will be done ere you haue tun'd
Hort. You'll leaue his Lecture when I am in tune?
Luc. That will be neuer, tune your instrument
Bian. Where left we last?
Luc. Heere Madam: Hic Ibat Simois, hic est sigeria
tellus, hic steterat Priami regia Celsa senis
Bian. Conster them
Luc. Hic Ibat, as I told you before, Simois, I am Lucentio, hic est, sonne vnto Vincentio of Pisa, Sigeria tellus, disguised thus to get your loue, hic steterat, and that Lucentio that comes a wooing, priami, is my man Tranio, regia, bearing my port, celsa senis that we might beguile the old Pantalowne
Hort. Madam, my Instrument's in tune
Bian. Let's heare, oh fie, the treble iarres
Luc. Spit in the hole man, and tune againe
Bian. Now let mee see if I can conster it. Hic ibat simois, I know you not, hic est sigeria tellus, I trust you not, hic staterat priami, take heede he heare vs not, regia presume not, Celsa senis, despaire not
Hort. Madam, tis now in tune
Luc. All but the base
Hort. The base is right, 'tis the base knaue that iars
Luc. How fiery and forward our Pedant is,
Now for my life the knaue doth court my loue,
Pedascule, Ile watch you better yet:
In time I may beleeue, yet I mistrust
Bian. Mistrust it not, for sure Aeacides
Was Aiax cald so from his grandfather
Hort. I must beleeue my master, else I promise you,
I should be arguing still vpon that doubt,
But let it rest, now Litio to you:
Good master take it not vnkindly pray
That I haue beene thus pleasant with you both
Hort. You may go walk, and giue me leaue a while,
My Lessons make no musicke in three parts
Luc. Are you so formall sir, well I must waite
And watch withall, for but I be deceiu'd,
Our fine Musitian groweth amorous
Hor. Madam, before you touch the instrument,
To learne the order of my fingering,
I must begin with rudiments of Art,
To teach you gamoth in a briefer sort,
More pleasant, pithy, and effectuall,
Then hath beene taught by any of my trade,
And there it is in writing fairely drawne
Bian. Why, I am past my gamouth long agoe
Hor. Yet read the gamouth of Hortentio
Bian. Gamouth I am, the ground of all accord:
Are, to plead Hortensio's passion:
Beeme, Bianca take him for thy Lord
Cfavt, that loues with all affection:
D sol re, one Cliffe, two notes haue I,
Ela mi, show pitty or I die,
Call you this gamouth? tut I like it not,
Old fashions please me best, I am not so nice
To charge true rules for old inuentions.
Enter a Messenger.
Nicke. Mistresse, your father prayes you leaue your books,
And helpe to dresse your sisters chamber vp,
You know to morrow is the wedding day
Bian. Farewell sweet masters both, I must be gone
Luc. Faith Mistresse then I haue no cause to stay
Hor. But I haue cause to pry into this pedant,
Methinkes he lookes as though he were in loue:
Yet if thy thoughts Bianca be so humble
To cast thy wandring eyes on euery stale:
Seize thee that List, if once I finde thee ranging,
Hortensio will be quit with thee by changing.
Enter.
Enter Baptista, Gremio, Tranio, Katherine, Bianca, and others, attendants.
Bap. Signior Lucentio, this is the pointed day
That Katherine and Petruchio should be married,
And yet we heare not of our sonne in Law:
What will be said, what mockery will it be?
To want the Bride-groome when the Priest attends
To speake the ceremoniall rites of marriage?
What saies Lucentio to this shame of ours?
Kate. No shame but mine, I must forsooth be forst
To giue my hand oppos'd against my heart
Vnto a mad-braine rudesby, full of spleene,
Who woo'd in haste, and meanes to wed at leysure:
I told you I, he was a franticke foole,
Hiding his bitter iests in blunt behauiour,
And to be noted for a merry man;
Hee'll wooe a thousand, point the day of marriage,
Make friends, inuite, and proclaime the banes,
Yet neuer meanes to wed where he hath woo'd:
Now must the world point at poore Katherine,
And say, loe, there is mad Petruchio's wife
If it would please him come and marry her
Tra. Patience good Katherine and Baptista too,
Vpon my life Petruchio meanes but well,
What euer fortune stayes him from his word,
Though he be blunt, I know him passing wise,
Though he be merry, yet withall he's honest
Kate. Would Katherine had neuer seen him though.
Exit weeping.
Bap. Goe girle, I cannot blame thee now to weepe,
For such an iniurie would vexe a very saint,
Much more a shrew of impatient humour.
Enter Biondello.
Bion. Master, master, newes, and such newes as you
neuer heard of,
Bap. Is it new and olde too? how may that be?
Bion. Why, is it not newes to heard of Petruchio's comming?
Bap. Is he come?
Bion. Why no sir
Bap. What then?
Bion. He is comming
Bap. When will he be heere?
Bion. When he stands where I am, and sees you there
Tra. But say, what to thine olde newes? Bion. Why Petruchio is comming, in a new hat and an old ierkin, a paire of old breeches thrice turn'd; a paire of bootes that haue beene candle-cases, one buckled, another lac'd: an olde rusty sword tane out of the Towne Armory, with a broken hilt, and chapelesse: with two broken points: his horse hip'd with an olde mothy saddle, and stirrops of no kindred: besides possest with the glanders, and like to mose in the chine, troubled with the Lampasse, infected with the fashions, full of Windegalls, sped with Spauins, raied with the Yellowes, past cure of the Fiues, starke spoyl'd with the Staggers, begnawne with the Bots, Waid in the backe, and shoulder-shotten, neere leg'd before, and with a halfe-chekt Bitte, & a headstall of sheepes leather, which being restrain'd to keepe him from stumbling, hath been often burst, and now repaired with knots: one girth sixe times peec'd, and a womans Crupper of velure, which hath two letters for her name, fairely set down in studs, and heere and there peec'd with packthred
Bap. Who comes with him? Bion. Oh sir, his Lackey, for all the world Caparison'd like the horse: with a linnen stock on one leg, and a kersey boot-hose on the other, gartred with a red and blew list; an old hat, & the humor of forty fancies prickt in't for a feather: a monster, a very monster in apparell, & not like a Christian foot-boy, or a gentlemans Lacky
Tra. 'Tis some od humor pricks him to this fashion,
Yet oftentimes he goes but meane apparel'd
Bap. I am glad he's come, howsoere he comes
Bion. Why sir, he comes not
Bap. Didst thou not say hee comes?
Bion. Who, that Petruchio came?
Bap. I, that Petruchio came
Bion. No sir, I say his horse comes with him on his backe
Bap. Why that's all one
Bion. Nay by S[aint]. Iamy, I hold you a penny, a horse and a man is more then one, and yet not many. Enter Petruchio and Grumio.
Pet. Come, where be these gallants? who's at home?
Bap. You are welcome sir
Petr. And yet I come not well
Bap. And yet you halt not
Tra. Not so well apparell'd as I wish you were
Petr. Were it better I should rush in thus:
But where is Kate? where is my louely Bride?
How does my father? gentles methinkes you frowne,
And wherefore gaze this goodly company,
As if they saw some wondrous monument,
Some Commet, or vnusuall prodigie?
Bap. Why sir, you know this is your wedding day:
First were we sad, fearing you would not come,
Now sadder that you come so vnprouided:
Fie, doff this habit, shame to your estate,
An eye-sore to our solemne festiuall
Tra. And tell vs what occasion of import
Hath all so long detain'd you from your wife,
And sent you hither so vnlike your selfe?
Petr. Tedious it were to tell, and harsh to heare,
Sufficeth I am come to keepe my word,
Though in some part inforced to digresse,
Which at more leysure I will so excuse,
As you shall well be satisfied with all.
But where is Kate? I stay too long from her,
The morning weares, 'tis time we were at Church
Tra. See not your Bride in these vnreuerent robes,
Goe to my chamber, put on clothes of mine
Pet. Not I, beleeue me, thus Ile visit her
Bap. But thus I trust you will not marry her
Pet. Good sooth euen thus: therefore ha done with words,
To me she's married, not vnto my cloathes:
Could I repaire what she will weare in me,
As I can change these poore accoutrements,
'Twere well for Kate, and better for my selfe.
But what a foole am I to chat with you,
When I should bid good morrow to my Bride?
And seale the title with a louely kisse.
Enter.
Tra. He hath some meaning in his mad attire,
We will perswade him be it possible,
To put on better ere he goe to Church
Bap. Ile after him, and see the euent of this.
Enter.
Tra. But sir, Loue concerneth vs to adde
Her fathers liking, which to bring to passe
As before imparted to your worship,
I am to get a man what ere he be,
It skills not much, weele fit him to our turne,
And he shall be Vincentio of Pisa,
And make assurance heere in Padua
Of greater summes then I haue promised,
So shall you quietly enioy your hope,
And marry sweet Bianca with consent
Luc. Were it not that my fellow schoolemaster
Doth watch Bianca's steps so narrowly:
'Twere good me-thinkes to steale our marriage,
Which once perform'd, let all the world say no,
Ile keepe mine owne despite of all the world
Tra. That by degrees we meane to looke into,
And watch our vantage in this businesse,
Wee'll ouer-reach the grey-beard Gremio,
The narrow prying father Minola,
The quaint Musician, amorous Litio,
All for my Masters sake Lucentio.
Enter Gremio.
Signior Gremio, came you from the Church?
Gre. As willingly as ere I came from schoole
Tra. And is the Bride & Bridegroom coming home?
Gre. A bridegroome say you? 'tis a groome indeed,
A grumlling groome, and that the girle shall finde
Tra. Curster then she, why 'tis impossible
Gre. Why hee's a deuill, a deuill, a very fiend
Tra. Why she's a deuill, a deuill, the deuils damme
Gre. Tut, she's a Lambe, a Doue, a foole to him:
Ile tell you sir Lucentio; when the Priest
Should aske if Katherine should be his wife,
I, by goggs woones quoth he, and swore so loud,
That all amaz'd the Priest let fall the booke,
And as he stoop'd againe to take it vp,
This mad-brain'd bridegroome tooke him such a cuffe,
That downe fell Priest and booke, and booke and Priest,
Now take them vp quoth he, if any list
Tra. What said the wench when he rose againe? Gre. Trembled and shooke: for why, he stamp'd and swore, as if the Vicar meant to cozen him: but after many ceremonies done, hee calls for wine, a health quoth he, as if he had beene aboord carowsing to his Mates after a storme, quaft off the Muscadell, and threw the sops all in the Sextons face: hauing no other reason, but that his beard grew thinne and hungerly, and seem'd to aske him sops as hee was drinking: This done, hee tooke the Bride about the necke, and kist her lips with such a clamorous smacke, that at the parting all the Church did eccho: and I seeing this, came thence for very shame, and after mee I know the rout is comming, such a mad marryage neuer was before: harke, harke, I heare the minstrels play.
Musicke playes.
Enter Petruchio, Kate, Bianca, Hortensio, Baptista.
Petr. Gentlemen & friends, I thank you for your pains,
I know you thinke to dine with me to day,
And haue prepar'd great store of wedding cheere,
But so it is, my haste doth call me hence,
And therefore heere I meane to take my leaue
Bap. Is't possible you will away to night?
Pet. I must away to day before night come,
Make it no wonder: if you knew my businesse,
You would intreat me rather goe then stay:
And honest company, I thanke you all,
That haue beheld me giue away my selfe
To this most patient, sweet, and vertuous wife,
Dine with my father, drinke a health to me,
For I must hence, and farewell to you all
Tra. Let vs intreat you stay till after dinner
Pet. It may not be
Gra. Let me intreat you
Pet. It cannot be
Kat. Let me intreat you
Pet. I am content
Kat. Are you content to stay?
Pet. I am content you shall entreat me stay,
But yet not stay, entreat me how you can
Kat. Now if you loue me stay
Pet. Grumio, my horse
Gru. I sir, they be ready, the Oates haue eaten the
horses
Kate. Nay then,
Doe what thou canst, I will not goe to day,
No, nor to morrow, not till I please my selfe,
The dore is open sir, there lies your way,
You may be iogging whiles your bootes are greene:
For me, Ile not be gone till I please my selfe,
'Tis like you'll proue a iolly surly groome,
That take it on you at the first so roundly
Pet. O Kate content thee, prethee be not angry
Kat. I will be angry, what hast thou to doe?
Father, be quiet, he shall stay my leisure
Gre. I marry sir, now it begins to worke
Kat. Gentlemen, forward to the bridall dinner,
I see a woman may be made a foole
If she had not a spirit to resist
Pet. They shall goe forward Kate at thy command,
Obey the Bride you that attend on her.
Goe to the feast, reuell and domineere,
Carowse full measure to her maiden-head,
Be madde and merry, or goe hang your selues:
But for my bonny Kate, she must with me:
Nay, looke not big, nor stampe, not stare, nor fret,
I will be master of what is mine owne,
Shee is my goods, my chattels, she is my house,
My houshold-stuffe, my field, my barne,
My horse, my oxe, my asse, my any thing,
And heere she stands, touch her who euer dare,
Ile bring mine action on the proudest he
That stops my way in Padua: Grumio
Draw forth thy weapon, we are beset with theeues,
Rescue thy Mistresse if thou be a man:
Feare not sweet wench, they shall not touch thee Kate,
Ile buckler thee against a Million.
Exeunt. P. Ka.
Bap. Nay, let them goe, a couple of quiet ones
Gre. Went they not quickly, I should die with laughing
Tra. Of all mad matches neuer was the like
Luc. Mistresse, what's your opinion of your sister?
Bian. That being mad her selfe, she's madly mated
Gre. I warrant him Petruchio is Kated
Bap. Neighbours and friends, though Bride & Bridegroom wants
For to supply the places at the table,
You know there wants no iunkets at the feast:
Lucentio, you shall supply the Bridegroomes place,
And let Bianca take her sisters roome
Tra. Shall sweet Bianca practise how to bride it?
Bap. She shall Lucentio: come gentlemen lets goe.
Enter Grumio.
Exeunt.
Gru. Fie, fie on all tired Iades, on all mad Masters, & all foule waies: was euer man so beaten? was euer man so raide? was euer man so weary? I am sent before to make a fire, and they are comming after to warme them: now were not I a little pot, & soone hot; my very lippes might freeze to my teeth, my tongue to the roofe of my mouth, my heart in my belly, ere I should come by a fire to thaw me, but I with blowing the fire shall warme my selfe: for considering the weather, a taller man then I will take cold: Holla, hoa Curtis. Enter Curtis.
Curt. Who is that calls so coldly? Gru. A piece of Ice: if thou doubt it, thou maist slide from my shoulder to my heele, with no greater a run but my head and my necke. A fire good Curtis
Cur. Is my master and his wife comming Grumio?
Gru. Oh I Curtis I, and therefore fire, fire, cast on no
water
Cur. Is she so hot a shrew as she's reported
Gru. She was good Curtis before this frost: but thou know'st winter tames man, woman, and beast: for it hath tam'd my old master, and my new mistris, and my selfe fellow Curtis
Gru. Away you three inch foole, I am no beast
Gru. Am I but three inches? Why thy horne is a foot and so long am I at the least. But wilt thou make a fire, or shall I complaine on thee to our mistris, whose hand (she being now at hand) thou shalt soone feele, to thy cold comfort, for being slow in thy hot office
Cur. I prethee good Grumio, tell me, how goes the
world?
Gru. A cold world Curtis in euery office but thine, &
therefore fire: do thy duty, and haue thy dutie, for my
Master and mistris are almost frozen to death
Cur. There's fire readie, and therefore good Grumio
the newes
Gru. Why Iacke boy, ho boy, and as much newes as
wilt thou
Cur. Come, you are so full of conicatching
Gru. Why therefore fire, for I haue caught extreme cold. Where's the Cooke, is supper ready, the house trim'd, rushes strew'd, cobwebs swept, the seruingmen in their new fustian, the white stockings, and euery officer his wedding garment on? Be the Iackes faire within, the Gils faire without, the Carpets laide, and euerie thing in order? Cur. All readie: and therefore I pray thee newes
Gru. First know my horse is tired, my master & mistris
falne out
Cur. How?
Gru. Out of their saddles into the durt, and thereby
hangs a tale
Cur. Let's ha't good Grumio
Gru. Lend thine eare
Cur. Heere
Gru. There
Cur. This 'tis to feele a tale, not to heare a tale
Gru. And therefore 'tis cal'd a sensible tale: and this Cuffe was but to knocke at your eare, and beseech listning: now I begin, Inprimis wee came downe a fowle hill, my Master riding behinde my Mistris
Cur. Both of one horse?
Gru. What's that to thee?
Cur. Why a horse
Gru. Tell thou the tale: but hadst thou not crost me, thou shouldst haue heard how her horse fel, and she vnder her horse: thou shouldst haue heard in how miery a place, how she was bemoil'd, how hee left her with the horse vpon her, how he beat me because her horse stumbled, how she waded through the durt to plucke him off me: how he swore, how she prai'd, that neuer prai'd before: how I cried, how the horses ranne away, how her bridle was burst: how I lost my crupper, with manie things of worthy memorie, which now shall die in obliuion, and thou returne vnexperienc'd to thy graue
Cur. By this reckning he is more shrew than she
Gru. I, and that thou and the proudest of you all shall finde when he comes home. But what talke I of this? Call forth Nathaniel, Ioseph, Nicholas, Phillip, Walter, Sugersop and the rest: let their heads bee slickely comb'd, their blew coats brush'd, and their garters of an indifferent knit, let them curtsie with their left legges, and not presume to touch a haire of my Masters horse-taile, till they kisse their hands. Are they all readie? Cur. They are
Gru. Call them forth
Cur. Do you heare ho? you must meete my maister to countenance my mistris
Gru. Why she hath a face of her owne
Cur. Who knowes not that?
Gru. Thou it seemes, that cals for company to countenance
her
Cur. I call them forth to credit her.
Enter foure or fiue seruingmen.
Gru. Why she comes to borrow nothing of them
Nat. Welcome home Grumio
Phil. How now Grumio
Ios. What Grumio
Nick. Fellow Grumio
Nat. How now old lad
Gru. Welcome you: how now you: what you: fellow you: and thus much for greeting. Now my spruce companions, is all readie, and all things neate? Nat. All things is readie, how neere is our master? Gre. E'ne at hand, alighted by this: and therefore be not- Cockes passion, silence, I heare my master. Enter Petruchio and Kate.
Pet. Where be these knaues? What no man at doore
To hold my stirrop, nor to take my horse?
Where is Nathaniel, Gregory, Phillip
All ser. Heere, heere sir, heere sir
Pet. Heere sir, heere sir, heere sir, heere sir.
You logger-headed and vnpollisht groomes:
What? no attendance? no regard? no dutie?
Where is the foolish knaue I sent before?
Gru. Heere sir, as foolish as I was before
Pet. You pezant, swain, you horson malt-horse drudg
Did I not bid thee meete me in the Parke,
And bring along these rascal knaues with thee?
Grumio. Nathaniels coate sir was not fully made,
And Gabrels pumpes were all vnpinkt i'th heele:
There was no Linke to colour Peters hat,
And Walters dagger was not come from sheathing:
There were none fine, but Adam, Rafe, and Gregory,
The rest were ragged, old, and beggerly,
Yet as they are, heere are they come to meete you
Pet. Go rascals, go, and fetch my supper in.
Ex. Ser.
Where is the life that late I led?
Where are those? Sit downe Kate,
And welcome. Soud, soud, soud, soud.
Enter seruants with supper.
Why when I say? Nay good sweete Kate be merrie.
Off with my boots, you rogues: you villaines, when?
It was the Friar of Orders gray,
As he forth walked on his way.
Out you rogue, you plucke my foote awrie,
Take that, and mend the plucking of the other.
Be merrie Kate: Some water heere: what hoa.
Enter one with water.
Where's my Spaniel Troilus? Sirra, get you hence,
And bid my cozen Ferdinand come hither:
One Kate that you must kisse, and be acquainted with.
Where are my Slippers? Shall I haue some water?
Come Kate and wash, & welcome heartily:
You horson villaine, will you let it fall?
Kate. Patience I pray you, 'twas a fault vnwilling
Pet. A horson beetle-headed flap-ear'd knaue:
Come Kate sit downe, I know you haue a stomacke,
Will you giue thankes, sweete Kate, or else shall I?
What's this, Mutton?
1.Ser. I
Pet. Who brought it?
Peter. I
Pet. 'Tis burnt, and so is all the meate:
What dogges are these? Where is the rascall Cooke?
How durst you villaines bring it from the dresser
And serue it thus to me that loue it not?
There, take it to you, trenchers, cups, and all:
You heedlesse iolt-heads, and vnmanner'd slaues.
What, do you grumble? Ile be with you straight
Kate. I pray you husband be not so disquiet,
The meate was well, if you were so contented
Pet. I tell thee Kate, 'twas burnt and dried away,
And I expressely am forbid to touch it:
For it engenders choller, planteth anger,
And better 'twere that both of vs did fast,
Since of our selues, our selues are chollericke,
Then feede it with such ouer-rosted flesh:
Be patient, to morrow't shalbe mended,
And for this night we'l fast for companie.
Come I wil bring thee to thy Bridall chamber.
Exeunt.
Enter Seruants seuerally.
Nath. Peter didst euer see the like
Peter. He kils her in her owne humor
Grumio. Where is he?
Enter Curtis a Seruant.
Cur. In her chamber, making a sermon of continencie to her, and railes, and sweares, and rates, that shee (poore soule) knowes not which way to stand, to looke, to speake, and sits as one new risen from a dreame. Away, away, for he is comming hither. Enter Petruchio.
Pet. Thus haue I politickely begun my reigne,
And 'tis my hope to end successefully:
My Faulcon now is sharpe, and passing emptie,
And til she stoope, she must not be full gorg'd,
For then she neuer lookes vpon her lure.
Another way I haue to man my Haggard,
To make her come, and know her Keepers call:
That is, to watch her, as we watch these Kites,
That baite, and beate, and will not be obedient:
She eate no meate to day, nor none shall eate.
Last night she slept not, nor to night she shall not:
As with the meate, some vndeserued fault
Ile finde about the making of the bed,
And heere Ile fling the pillow, there the boulster,
This way the Couerlet, another way the sheets:
I, and amid this hurlie I intend,
That all is done in reuerend care of her,
And in conclusion, she shal watch all night,
And if she chance to nod, Ile raile and brawle,
And with the clamor keepe her stil awake:
This is a way to kil a Wife with kindnesse,
And thus Ile curbe her mad and headstrong humor:
He that knowes better how to tame a shrew,
Now let him speake, 'tis charity to shew.
Exit
Enter Tranio and Hortensio.
Tra. Is't possible friend Lisio, that mistris Bianca
Doth fancie any other but Lucentio,
I tel you sir, she beares me faire in hand
Luc. Sir, to satisfie you in what I haue said,
Stand by, and marke the manner of his teaching.
Enter Bianca.
Hor. Now Mistris, profit you in what you reade?
Bian. What Master reade you first, resolue me that?
Hor. I reade, that I professe the Art to loue
Bian. And may you proue sir Master of your Art
Luc. While you sweet deere proue Mistresse of my heart
Hor. Quicke proceeders marry, now tel me I pray, you that durst sweare that your Mistris Bianca Lou'd me in the World so wel as Lucentio
Tra. Oh despightful Loue, vnconstant womankind,
I tel thee Lisio this is wonderfull
Hor. Mistake no more, I am not Lisio,
Nor a Musitian as I seeme to bee,
But one that scorne to liue in this disguise,
For such a one as leaues a Gentleman,
And makes a God of such a Cullion;
Know sir, that I am cal'd Hortensio
Tra. Signior Hortensio, I haue often heard
Of your entire affection to Bianca,
And since mine eyes are witnesse of her lightnesse,
I wil with you, if you be so contented,
Forsweare Bianca, and her loue for euer
Hor. See how they kisse and court: Signior Lucentio,
Heere is my hand, and heere I firmly vow
Neuer to woo her more, but do forsweare her
As one vnworthie all the former fauours
That I haue fondly flatter'd them withall
Tra. And heere I take the like vnfained oath,
Neuer to marrie with her, though she would intreate,
Fie on her, see how beastly she doth court him
Hor. Would all the world but he had quite forsworn
For me, that I may surely keepe mine oath.
I wil be married to a wealthy Widdow,
Ere three dayes passe, which hath as long lou'd me,
As I haue lou'd this proud disdainful Haggard,
And so farewel signior Lucentio,
Kindnesse in women, not their beauteous lookes
Shal win my loue, and so I take my leaue,
In resolution, as I swore before
Tra. Mistris Bianca, blesse you with such grace,
As longeth to a Louers blessed case:
Nay, I haue tane you napping gentle Loue,
And haue forsworne you with Hortensio
Bian. Tranio you iest, but haue you both forsworne
mee?
Tra. Mistris we haue
Luc. Then we are rid of Lisio
Tra. I'faith hee'l haue a lustie Widdow now,
That shalbe woo'd, and wedded in a day
Bian. God giue him ioy
Tra. I, and hee'l tame her
Bianca. He sayes so Tranio
Tra. Faith he is gone vnto the taming schoole
Bian. The taming schoole: what is there such a place?
Tra. I mistris, and Petruchio is the master,
That teacheth trickes eleuen and twentie long,
To tame a shrew, and charme her chattering tongue.
Enter Biondello.
Bion. Oh Master, master I haue watcht so long,
That I am dogge-wearie, but at last I spied
An ancient Angel comming downe the hill,
Wil serue the turne
Tra. What is he Biondello?
Bio. Master, a Marcantant, or a pedant,
I know not what, but formall in apparrell,
In gate and countenance surely like a Father
Luc. And what of him Tranio?
Tra. If he be credulous, and trust my tale,
Ile make him glad to seeme Vincentio,
And giue assurance to Baptista Minola.
As if he were the right Vincentio
Par. Take me your loue, and then let me alone.
Enter a Pedant.
Ped. God saue you sir
Tra. And you sir, you are welcome,
Trauaile you farre on, or are you at the farthest?
Ped. Sir at the farthest for a weeke or two,
But then vp farther, and as farre as Rome,
And so to Tripolie, if God lend me life
Tra. What Countreyman I pray?
Ped. Of Mantua
Tra. Of Mantua Sir, marrie God forbid,
And come to Padua carelesse of your life
Ped. My life sir? how I pray? for that goes hard
Tra. 'Tis death for any one in Mantua
To come to Padua, know you not the cause?
Your ships are staid at Venice, and the Duke
For priuate quarrel 'twixt your Duke and him,
Hath publish'd and proclaim'd it openly:
'Tis meruaile, but that you are but newly come,
You might haue heard it else proclaim'd about
Ped. Alas sir, it is worse for me then so,
For I haue bils for monie by exchange
From Florence, and must heere deliuer them
Tra. Wel sir, to do you courtesie,
This wil I do, and this I wil aduise you.
First tell me, haue you euer beene at Pisa?
Ped. I sir, in Pisa haue I often bin,
Pisa renowned for graue Citizens
Tra. Among them know you one Vincentio?
Ped. I know him not, but I haue heard of him:
A Merchant of incomparable wealth
Tra. He is my father sir, and sooth to say,
In count'nance somewhat doth resemble you
Bion. As much as an apple doth an oyster, & all one
Tra. To saue your life in this extremitie,
This fauor wil I do you for his sake,
And thinke it not the worst of all your fortunes,
That you are like to Sir Vincentio.
His name and credite shal you vndertake,
And in my house you shal be friendly lodg'd,
Looke that you take vpon you as you should,
You vnderstand me sir: so shal you stay
Til you haue done your businesse in the Citie:
If this be court'sie sir, accept of it
Ped. Oh sir I do, and wil repute you euer
The patron of my life and libertie
Tra. Then go with me, to make the matter good,
This by the way I let you vnderstand,
My father is heere look'd for euerie day,
To passe assurance of a dowre in marriage
'Twixt me, and one Baptistas daughter heere:
In all these circumstances Ile instruct you,
Go with me to cloath you as becomes you.
Exeunt.
Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.
Enter Katherina and Grumio.
Gru. No, no forsooth I dare not for my life
Ka. The more my wrong, the more his spite appears.
What, did he marrie me to famish me?
Beggers that come vnto my fathers doore,
Vpon intreatie haue a present almes,
If not, elsewhere they meete with charitie:
But I, who neuer knew how to intreat,
Nor neuer needed that I should intreate,
Am staru'd for meate, giddie for lacke of sleepe:
With oathes kept waking, and with brawling fed,
And that which spights me more then all these wants,
He does it vnder name of perfect loue:
As who should say, if I should sleepe or eate
'Twere deadly sicknesse, or else present death.
I prethee go, and get me some repast,
I care not what, so it be holsome foode
Gru. What say you to a Neats foote?
Kate. 'Tis passing good, I prethee let me haue it
Gru. I feare it is too chollericke a meate.
How say you to a fat Tripe finely broyl'd?
Kate. I like it well, good Grumio fetch it me
Gru. I cannot tell, I feare 'tis chollericke.
What say you to a peece of Beefe and Mustard?
Kate. A dish that I do loue to feede vpon
Gru. I, but the Mustard is too hot a little
Kate. Why then the Beefe, and let the Mustard rest
Gru. Nay then I wil not, you shal haue the Mustard
Or else you get no beefe of Grumio
Kate. Then both or one, or any thing thou wilt
Gru. Why then the Mustard without the beefe
Kate. Go get thee gone, thou false deluding slaue,
Beats him.
That feed'st me with the verie name of meate.
Sorrow on thee, and all the packe of you
That triumph thus vpon my misery:
Go get thee gone, I say.
Enter Petruchio, and Hortensio with meate
Petr. How fares my Kate, what sweeting all amort?
Hor. Mistris, what cheere?
Kate. Faith as cold as can be
Pet. Plucke vp thy spirits, looke cheerfully vpon me.
Heere Loue, thou seest how diligent I am,
To dresse thy meate my selfe, and bring it thee.
I am sure sweet Kate, this kindnesse merites thankes.
What, not a word? Nay then, thou lou'st it not:
And all my paines is sorted to no proofe.
Heere take away this dish
Kate. I pray you let it stand
Pet. The poorest seruice is repaide with thankes,
And so shall mine before you touch the meate
Kate. I thanke you sir
Hor. Signior Petruchio, fie you are too blame:
Come Mistris Kate, Ile beare you companie
Petr. Eate it vp all Hortensio, if thou louest mee:
Much good do it vnto thy gentle heart:
Kate eate apace; and now my honie Loue,
Will we returne vnto thy Fathers house,
And reuell it as brauely as the best,
With silken coats and caps, and golden Rings,
With Ruffes and Cuffes, and Fardingales, and things:
With Scarfes, and Fannes, & double change of brau'ry,
With Amber Bracelets, Beades, and all this knau'ry.
What hast thou din'd? The Tailor staies thy leasure,
To decke thy bodie with his ruffling treasure.
Enter Tailor.
Come Tailor, let vs see these ornaments.
Enter Haberdasher.
Lay forth the gowne. What newes with you sir?
Fel. Heere is the cap your Worship did bespeake
Pet. Why this was moulded on a porrenger,
A Veluet dish: Fie, fie, 'tis lewd and filthy,
Why 'tis a cockle or a walnut-shell,
A knacke, a toy, a tricke, a babies cap:
Away with it, come let me haue a bigger
Kate. Ile haue no bigger, this doth fit the time,
And Gentlewomen weare such caps as these
Pet. When you are gentle, you shall haue one too,
And not till then
Hor. That will not be in hast
Kate. Why sir I trust I may haue leaue to speake,
And speake I will. I am no childe, no babe,
Your betters haue indur'd me say my minde,
And if you cannot, best you stop your eares.
My tongue will tell the anger of my heart,
Or els my heart concealing it wil breake,
And rather then it shall, I will be free,
Euen to the vttermost as I please in words
Pet. Why thou saist true, it is paltrie cap,
A custard coffen, a bauble, a silken pie,
I loue thee well in that thou lik'st it not
Kate. Loue me, or loue me not, I like the cap,
And it I will haue, or I will haue none
Pet. Thy gowne, why I: come Tailor let vs see't.
Oh mercie God, what masking stuffe is heere?
Whats this? a sleeue? 'tis like demi cannon,
What, vp and downe caru'd like an apple Tart?
Heers snip, and nip, and cut, and slish and slash,
Like to a Censor in a barbers shoppe:
Why what a deuils name Tailor cal'st thou this?
Hor. I see shees like to haue neither cap nor gowne
Tai. You bid me make it orderlie and well,
According to the fashion, and the time
Pet. Marrie and did: but if you be remembred,
I did not bid you marre it to the time.
Go hop me ouer euery kennell home,
For you shall hop without my custome sir:
Ile none of it; hence, make your best of it
Kate. I neuer saw a better fashion'd gowne,
More queint, more pleasing, nor more commendable:
Belike you meane to make a puppet of me
Pet. Why true, he meanes to make a puppet of thee
Tail. She saies your Worship meanes to make a
puppet of her
Pet. Oh monstrous arrogance:
Thou lyest, thou thred, thou thimble,
Thou yard three quarters, halfe yard, quarter, naile,
Thou Flea, thou Nit, thou winter cricket thou:
Brau'd in mine owne house with a skeine of thred:
Away thou Ragge, thou quantitie, thou remnant,
Or I shall so be-mete thee with thy yard,
As thou shalt thinke on prating whil'st thou liu'st:
I tell thee I, that thou hast marr'd her gowne
Tail. Your worship is deceiu'd, the gowne is made
Iust as my master had direction:
Grumio gaue order how it should be done
Gru. I gaue him no order, I gaue him the stuffe
Tail. But how did you desire it should be made?
Gru. Marrie sir with needle and thred
Tail. But did you not request to haue it cut?
Gru. Thou hast fac'd many things
Tail. I haue
Gru. Face not mee: thou hast brau'd manie men, braue not me; I will neither bee fac'd nor brau'd. I say vnto thee, I bid thy Master cut out the gowne, but I did not bid him cut it to peeces. Ergo thou liest
Tail. Why heere is the note of the fashion to testify
Pet. Reade it
Gru. The note lies in's throate if he say I said so
Tail. Inprimis, a loose bodied gowne
Gru. Master, if euer I said loose-bodied gowne, sow me in the skirts of it, and beate me to death with a bottome of browne thred: I said a gowne
Pet. Proceede
Tai. With a small compast cape
Gru. I confesse the cape
Tai. With a trunke sleeue
Gru. I confesse two sleeues
Tai. The sleeues curiously cut
Pet. I there's the villanie
Gru. Error i'th bill sir, error i'th bill? I commanded the sleeues should be cut out, and sow'd vp againe, and that Ile proue vpon thee, though thy little finger be armed in a thimble
Tail. This is true that I say, and I had thee in place
where thou shouldst know it
Gru. I am for thee straight: take thou the bill, giue
me thy meat-yard, and spare not me
Hor. God-a-mercie Grumio, then hee shall haue no
oddes
Pet. Well sir in breefe the gowne is not for me
Gru. You are i'th right sir, 'tis for my mistris
Pet. Go take it vp vnto thy masters vse
Gru. Villaine, not for thy life: Take vp my Mistresse
gowne for thy masters vse
Pet. Why sir, what's your conceit in that?
Gru. Oh sir, the conceit is deeper then you think for:
Take vp my Mistris gowne to his masters vse.
Oh fie, fie, fie
Pet. Hortensio, say thou wilt see the Tailor paide:
Go take it hence, be gone, and say no more
Hor. Tailor, Ile pay thee for thy gowne to morrow,
Take no vnkindnesse of his hastie words:
Away I say, commend me to thy master.
Exit Tail.
Pet. Well, come my Kate, we will vnto your fathers,
Euen in these honest meane habiliments:
Our purses shall be proud, our garments poore:
For 'tis the minde that makes the bodie rich.
And as the Sunne breakes through the darkest clouds,
So honor peereth in the meanest habit.
What is the Iay more precious then the Larke?
Because his feathers are more beautifull.
Or is the Adder better then the Eele,
Because his painted skin contents the eye.
Oh no good Kate: neither art thou the worse
For this poore furniture, and meane array.
If thou accountedst it shame, lay it on me,
And therefore frolicke, we will hence forthwith,
To feast and sport vs at thy fathers house,
Go call my men, and let vs straight to him,
And bring our horses vnto Long-lane end,
There wil we mount, and thither walke on foote,
Let's see, I thinke 'tis now some seuen a clocke,
And well we may come there by dinner time
Kate. I dare assure you sir, 'tis almost two,
And 'twill be supper time ere you come there
Pet. It shall be seuen ere I go to horse:
Looke what I speake, or do, or thinke to doe,
You are still crossing it, sirs let't alone,
I will not goe to day, and ere I doe,
It shall be what a clock I say it is
Hor. Why so this gallant will command the sunne.
Enter Tranio, and the Pedant drest like Vincentio.
Tra. Sirs, this is the house, please it you that I call
Ped. I what else, and but I be deceiued,
Signior Baptista may remember me
Neere twentie yeares a goe in Genoa
Tra. Where we were lodgers, at the Pegasus,
Tis well, and hold your owne in any case
With such austeritie as longeth to a father.
Enter Biondello.
Ped. I warrant you: but sir here comes your boy,
'Twere good he were school'd
Tra. Feare you not him: sirra Biondello,
Now doe your dutie throughlie I aduise you:
Imagine 'twere the right Vincentio
Bion. Tut, feare not me
Tra. But hast thou done thy errand to Baptista
Bion. I told him that your father was at Venice,
And that you look't for him this day in Padua,
Tra. Th'art a tall fellow, hold thee that to drinke,
Here comes Baptista: set your countenance sir.
Enter Baptista and Lucentio: Pedant booted and bare headed.
Tra. Signior Baptista you are happilie met:
Sir, this is the gentleman I told you of,
I pray you stand good father to me now,
Giue me Bianca for my patrimony
Ped. Soft son: sir by your leaue, hauing com to Padua
To gather in some debts, my son Lucentio
Made me acquainted with a waighty cause
Of loue betweene your daughter and himselfe:
And for the good report I heare of you,
And for the loue he beareth to your daughter,
And she to him: to stay him not too long,
I am content in a good fathers care
To haue him matcht, and if you please to like
No worse then I, vpon some agreement
Me shall you finde readie and willing
With one consent to haue her so bestowed:
For curious I cannot be with you
Signior Baptista, of whom I heare so well
Bap. Sir, pardon me in what I haue to say,
Your plainnesse and your shortnesse please me well:
Right true it is your sonne Lucentio here
Doth loue my daughter, and she loueth him,
Or both dissemble deepely their affections:
And therefore if you say no more then this,
That like a Father you will deale with him,
And passe my daughter a sufficient dower,
The match is made, and all is done,
Your sonne shall haue my daughter with consent
Tra. I thanke you sir, where then doe you know best
We be affied and such assurance tane,
As shall with either parts agreement stand
Bap. Not in my house Lucentio, for you know
Pitchers haue eares, and I haue manie seruants,
Besides old Gremio is harkning still,
And happilie we might be interrupted
Tra. Then at my lodging, and it like you,
There doth my father lie: and there this night
Weele passe the businesse priuately and well:
Send for your daughter by your seruant here,
My Boy shall fetch the Scriuener presentlie,
The worst is this that at so slender warning,
You are like to haue a thin and slender pittance
Bap. It likes me well:
Cambio hie you home, and bid Bianca make her readie
straight:
And if you will tell what hath hapned,
Lucentios Father is arriued in Padua,
And how she's like to be Lucentios wife
Biond. I praie the gods she may withall my heart.
Enter.
Tran. Dallie not with the gods, but get thee gone.
Enter Peter.
Signior Baptista, shall I leade the way,
Welcome, one messe is like to be your cheere,
Come sir, we will better it in Pisa
Bap. I follow you.
Exeunt.
Enter Lucentio and Biondello.
Bion. Cambio
Luc. What saist thou Biondello
Biond. You saw my Master winke and laugh vpon
you?
Luc. Biondello, what of that?
Biond. Faith nothing: but has left mee here behinde
to expound the meaning or morrall of his signes and tokens
Luc. I pray thee moralize them
Biond. Then thus: Baptista is safe talking with the
deceiuing Father of a deceitfull sonne
Luc. And what of him?
Biond. His daughter is to be brought by you to the
supper
Luc. And then
Bio. The old Priest at Saint Lukes Church is at your command at all houres
Luc. And what of all this
Bion. I cannot tell, expect they are busied about a counterfeit assurance: take you assurance of her, Cum preuilegio ad Impremendum solem, to th' Church take the Priest, Clarke, and some sufficient honest witnesses: If this be not that you looke for, I haue no more to say, But bid Bianca farewell for euer and a day
Luc. Hear'st thou Biondello
Biond. I cannot tarry: I knew a wench maried in an afternoone as shee went to the Garden for Parseley to stuffe a Rabit, and so may you sir: and so adew sir, my Master hath appointed me to goe to Saint Lukes to bid the Priest be readie to come against you come with your appendix. Enter.
Luc. I may and will, if she be so contented:
She will be pleas'd, then wherefore should I doubt:
Hap what hap may, Ile roundly goe about her:
It shall goe hard if Cambio goe without her.
Enter.
Enter Petruchio, Kate, Hortentio
Petr. Come on a Gods name, once more toward our
fathers:
Good Lord how bright and goodly shines the Moone
Kate. The Moone, the Sunne: it is not Moonelight
now
Pet. I say it is the Moone that shines so bright
Kate. I know it is the Sunne that shines so bright
Pet. Now by my mothers sonne, and that's my selfe,
It shall be moone, or starre, or what I list,
Or ere I iourney to your Fathers house:
Goe on, and fetch our horses backe againe,
Euermore crost and crost, nothing but crost
Hort. Say as he saies, or we shall neuer goe
Kate. Forward I pray, since we haue come so farre,
And be it moone, or sunne, or what you please:
And if you please to call it a rush Candle,
Henceforth I vowe it shall be so for me
Petr. I say it is the Moone
Kate. I know it is the Moone
Petr. Nay then you lye: it is the blessed Sunne
Kate. Then God be blest, it is the blessed sun,
But sunne it is not, when you say it is not,
And the Moone changes euen as your minde:
What you will haue it nam'd, euen that it is,
And so it shall be so for Katherine
Hort. Petruchio, goe thy waies, the field is won
Petr. Well, forward, forward, thus the bowle should run,
And not vnluckily against the Bias:
But soft, Company is comming here.
Enter Vincentio.
Good morrow gentle Mistris, where away:
Tell me sweete Kate, and tell me truely too,
Hast thou beheld a fresher Gentlewoman:
Such warre of white and red within her cheekes:
What stars do spangle heauen with such beautie,
As those two eyes become that heauenly face?
Faire louely Maide, once more good day to thee:
Sweete Kate embrace her for her beauties sake
Hort. A will make the man mad to make the woman
of him
Kate. Yong budding Virgin, faire, and fresh, & sweet,
Whether away, or whether is thy aboade?
Happy the Parents of so faire a childe;
Happier the man whom fauourable stars
A lots thee for his louely bedfellow
Petr. Why how now Kate, I hope thou art not mad,
This is a man old, wrinckled, faded, withered,
And not a Maiden, as thou saist he is
Kate. Pardon old father my mistaking eies,
That haue bin so bedazled with the sunne,
That euery thing I looke on seemeth greene:
Now I perceiue thou art a reuerent Father:
Pardon I pray thee for my mad mistaking
Petr. Do good old grandsire, & withall make known
Which way thou trauellest, if along with vs,
We shall be ioyfull of thy companie
Vin. Faire Sir, and you my merry Mistris,
That with your strange encounter much amasde me:
My name is call'd Vincentio, my dwelling Pisa,
And bound I am to Padua, there to visite
A sonne of mine, which long I haue not seene
Petr. What is his name?
Vinc. Lucentio gentle sir
Petr. Happily met, the happier for thy sonne:
And now by Law, as well as reuerent age,
I may intitle thee my louing Father,
The sister to my wife, this Gentlewoman,
Thy Sonne by this hath married: wonder not,
Nor be not grieued, she is of good esteeme,
Her dowrie wealthie, and of worthie birth;
Beside, so qualified, as may beseeme
The Spouse of any noble Gentleman:
Let me imbrace with old Vincentio,
And wander we to see thy honest sonne,
Who will of thy arriuall be full ioyous
Vinc. But is this true, or is it else your pleasure,
Like pleasant trauailors to breake a Iest
Vpon the companie you ouertake?
Hort. I doe assure thee father so it is
Petr. Come goe along and see the truth hereof,
For our first merriment hath made thee iealous.
Exeunt.
Hor. Well Petruchio, this has put me in heart;
Haue to my Widdow, and if she froward,
Then hast thou taught Hortentio to be vntoward.
Enter.
Enter Biondello, Lucentio and Bianca, Gremio is out before.
Biond. Softly and swiftly sir, for the Priest is ready
Luc. I flie Biondello; but they may chance to neede thee at home, therefore leaue vs. Enter.
Biond. Nay faith, Ile see the Church a your backe,
and then come backe to my mistris as soone as I can
Gre. I maruaile Cambio comes not all this while.
Enter Petruchio, Kate, Vincentio, Grumio with Attendants.
Petr. Sir heres the doore, this is Lucentios house,
My Fathers beares more toward the Market-place,
Thither must I, and here I leaue you sir
Vin. You shall not choose but drinke before you go,
I thinke I shall command your welcome here;
And by all likelihood some cheere is toward.
Knock.
Grem. They're busie within, you were best knocke lowder.
Pedant lookes out of the window.
Ped. What's he that knockes as he would beat downe
the gate?
Vin. Is Signior Lucentio within sir?
Ped. He's within sir, but not to be spoken withall
Vinc. What if a man bring him a hundred pound or
two to make merrie withall
Ped. Keepe your hundred pounds to your selfe, hee
shall neede none so long as I liue
Petr. Nay, I told you your sonne was well beloued in Padua: doe you heare sir, to leaue friuolous circumstances, I pray you tell signior Lucentio that his Father is come from Pisa, and is here at the doore to speake with him
Ped. Thou liest his Father is come from Padua, and
here looking out at the window
Vin. Art thou his father?
Ped. I sir, so his mother saies, if I may beleeue her
Petr. Why how now gentleman: why this is flat knauerie
to take vpon you another mans name
Peda. Lay hands on the villaine, I beleeue a meanes to cosen some bodie in this Citie vnder my countenance. Enter Biondello.
Bio. I haue seene them in the Church together, God send 'em good shipping: but who is here? mine old Master Vincentio: now wee are vndone and brought to nothing
Vin. Come hither crackhempe
Bion. I hope I may choose Sir
Vin. Come hither you rogue, what haue you forgot
mee?
Biond. Forgot you, no sir: I could not forget you, for
I neuer saw you before in all my life
Vinc. What, you notorious villaine, didst thou neuer
see thy Mistris father, Vincentio?
Bion. What my old worshipfull old master? yes
marie sir see where he lookes out of the window
Vin. Ist so indeede.
He beates Biondello.
Bion. Helpe, helpe, helpe, here's a mad man will murder me
Pedan. Helpe, sonne, helpe signior Baptista
Petr. Preethe Kate let's stand aside and see the end of
this controuersie.
Enter Pedant with seruants, Baptista, Tranio.
Tra. Sir, what are you that offer to beate my seruant? Vinc. What am I sir: nay what are you sir: oh immortall Goddes: oh fine villaine, a silken doublet, a veluet hose, a scarlet cloake, and a copataine hat: oh I am vndone, I am vndone: while I plaie the good husband at home, my sonne and my seruant spend all at the vniuersitie
Tra. How now, what's the matter?
Bapt. What is the man lunaticke?
Tra. Sir, you seeme a sober ancient Gentleman by
your habit: but your words shew you a mad man: why
sir, what cernes it you, if I weare Pearle and gold: I thank
my good Father, I am able to maintaine it
Vin. Thy father: oh villaine, he is a Saile-maker in
Bergamo
Bap. You mistake sir, you mistake sir, praie what do you thinke is his name? Vin. His name, as if I knew not his name: I haue brought him vp euer since he was three yeeres old, and his name is Tronio
Ped. Awaie, awaie mad asse, his name is Lucentio, and he is mine onelie sonne and heire to the Lands of me signior Vincentio
Ven. Lucentio: oh he hath murdred his Master; laie hold on him I charge you in the Dukes name: oh my sonne, my sonne: tell me thou villaine, where is my son Lucentio? Tra. Call forth an officer: Carrie this mad knaue to the Iaile: father Baptista, I charge you see that hee be forth comming
Vinc. Carrie me to the Iaile?
Gre. Staie officer, he shall not go to prison
Bap. Talke not signior Gremio: I saie he shall goe to
prison
Gre. Take heede signior Baptista, least you be conicatcht in this businesse: I dare sweare this is the right Vincentio
Ped. Sweare if thou dar'st
Gre. Naie, I dare not sweare it
Tran. Then thou wert best saie that I am not Lucentio
Gre. Yes, I know thee to be signior Lucentio
Bap. Awaie with the dotard, to the Iaile with him.
Enter Biondello, Lucentio and Bianeu.
Vin. Thus strangers may be haild and abusd: oh monstrous
villaine
Bion. Oh we are spoil'd, and yonder he is, denie him,
forsweare him, or else we are all vndone.
Exit Biondello, Tranio and Pedant as fast as may be.
Luc. Pardon sweete father.
Kneele.
Vin. Liues my sweete sonne?
Bian. Pardon deere father
Bap. How hast thou offended, where is Lucentio?
Luc. Here's Lucentio, right sonne to the right Vincentio,
That haue by marriage made thy daughter mine,
While counterfeit supposes bleer'd thine eine
Gre. Here's packing with a witnesse to deceiue vs all
Vin. Where is that damned villaine Tranio,
That fac'd and braued me in this matter so?
Bap. Why, tell me is not this my Cambio?
Bian. Cambio is chang'd into Lucentio
Luc. Loue wrought these miracles. Biancas loue
Made me exchange my state with Tranio,
While he did beare my countenance in the towne,
And happilie I haue arriued at the last
Vnto the wished hauen of my blisse:
What Tranio did, my selfe enforst him to;
Then pardon him sweete Father for my sake
Vin. Ile slit the villaines nose that would haue sent
me to the Iaile
Bap. But doe you heare sir, haue you married my daughter without asking my good will? Vin. Feare not Baptista, we will content you, goe to: but I will in to be reueng'd for this villanie. Enter.
Bap. And I to sound the depth of this knauerie.
Enter.
Luc. Looke not pale Bianca, thy father will not frown.
Exeunt.
Gre. My cake is dough, but Ile in among the rest,
Out of hope of all, but my share of the feast
Kate. Husband let's follow, to see the end of this adoe
Petr. First kisse me Kate, and we will
Kate. What in the midst of the streete?
Petr. What art thou asham'd of me?
Kate. No sir, God forbid, but asham'd to kisse
Petr. Why then let's home againe: Come Sirra let's
awaie
Kate. Nay, I will giue thee a kisse, now praie thee
Loue staie
Petr. Is not this well? come my sweete Kate.
Better once then neuer, for neuer to late.
Exeunt.
Actus Quintus.
Enter Baptista, Vincentio, Gremio, the Pedant, Lucentio, and
Bianca.
Tranio, Biondello Grumio, and Widdow: The Seruingmen with
Tranio bringing
in a Banquet.
Luc. At last, though long, our iarring notes agree,
And time it is when raging warre is come,
To smile at scapes and perils ouerblowne:
My faire Bianca bid my father welcome,
While I with selfesame kindnesse welcome thine:
Brother Petruchio, sister Katerina,
And thou Hortentio with thy louing Widdow:
Feast with the best, and welcome to my house,
My Banket is to close our stomakes vp
After our great good cheere: praie you sit downe,
For now we sit to chat as well as eate
Petr. Nothing but sit and sit, and eate and eate
Bap. Padua affords this kindnesse, sonne Petruchio
Petr. Padua affords nothing but what is kinde
Hor. For both our sakes I would that word were true
Pet. Now for my life Hortentio feares his Widow
Wid. Then neuer trust me if I be affeard
Petr. You are verie sencible, and yet you misse my
sence:
I meane Hortentio is afeard of you
Wid. He that is giddie thinks the world turns round
Petr. Roundlie replied
Kat. Mistris, how meane you that?
Wid. Thus I conceiue by him
Petr. Conceiues by me, how likes Hortentio that?
Hor. My Widdow saies, thus she conceiues her tale
Petr. Verie well mended: kisse him for that good
Widdow
Kat. He that is giddie thinkes the world turnes round,
I praie you tell me what you meant by that
Wid. Your housband being troubled with a shrew,
Measures my husbands sorrow by his woe:
And now you know my meaning
Kate. A verie meane meaning
Wid. Right, I meane you
Kat. And I am meane indeede, respecting you
Petr. To her Kate
Hor. To her Widdow
Petr. A hundred marks, my Kate does put her down
Hor. That's my office
Petr. Spoke like an Officer: ha to the lad.
Drinkes to Hortentio.
Bap. How likes Gremio these quicke witted folkes?
Gre. Beleeue me sir, they But together well
Bian. Head, and but an hastie witted bodie,
Would say your Head and But were head and horne
Vin. I Mistris Bride, hath that awakened you?
Bian. I, but not frighted me, therefore Ile sleepe againe
Petr. Nay that you shall not since you haue begun:
Haue at you for a better iest or too
Bian. Am I your Bird, I meane to shift my bush,
And then pursue me as you draw your Bow.
You are welcome all.
Exit Bianca.
Petr. She hath preuented me, here signior Tranio,
This bird you aim'd at, though you hit her not,
Therefore a health to all that shot and mist
Tri. Oh sir, Lucentio slipt me like his Gray-hound,
Which runs himselfe, and catches for his Master
Petr. A good swift simile, but something currish
Tra. 'Tis well sir that you hunted for your selfe:
'Tis thought your Deere does hold you at a baie
Bap. Oh, oh Petruchio, Tranio hits you now
Luc. I thanke thee for that gird good Tranio
Hor. Confesse, confesse, hath he not hit you here?
Petr. A has a little gald me I confesse:
And as the Iest did glaunce awaie from me,
'Tis ten to one it maim'd you too out right
Bap. Now in good sadnesse sonne Petruchio,
I thinke thou hast the veriest shrew of all
Petr. Well, I say no: and therefore sir assurance,
Let's each one send vnto his wife,
And he whose wife is most obedient,
To come at first when he doth send for her,
Shall win the wager which we will propose
Hort. Content, what's the wager?
Luc. Twentie crownes
Petr. Twentie crownes,
Ile venture so much of my Hawke or Hound,
But twentie times so much vpon my Wife
Luc. A hundred then
Hor. Content
Petr. A match, 'tis done
Hor. Who shall begin?
Luc. That will I.
Goe Biondello, bid your Mistris come to me
Bio. I goe.
Enter.
Bap. Sonne, Ile be your halfe, Bianca comes
Luc. Ile haue no halues: Ile beare it all my selfe.
Enter Biondello.
How now, what newes?
Bio. Sir, my Mistris sends you word
That she is busie, and she cannot come
Petr. How? she's busie, and she cannot come: is that
an answere?
Gre. I, and a kinde one too:
Praie God sir your wife send you not a worse
Petr. I hope better
Hor. Sirra Biondello, goe and intreate my wife to come to me forthwith.
Exit. Bion.
Pet. Oh ho, intreate her, nay then shee must needes
come
Hor. I am affraid sir, doe what you can
Enter Biondello.
Yours will not be entreated: Now, where's my wife?
Bion. She saies you haue some goodly Iest in hand,
She will not come: she bids you come to her
Petr. Worse and worse, she will not come:
Oh vilde, intollerable, not to be indur'd:
Sirra Grumio, goe to your Mistris,
Say I command her come to me.
Enter.
Hor. I know her answere
Pet. What?
Hor. She will not
Petr. The fouler fortune mine, and there an end.
Enter Katerina.
Bap. Now by my hollidam here comes Katerina
Kat. What is your will sir, that you send for me?
Petr. Where is your sister, and Hortensios wife?
Kate. They sit conferring by the Parler fire
Petr. Goe fetch them hither, if they denie to come,
Swinge me them soundly forth vnto their husbands:
Away I say, and bring them hither straight
Luc. Here is a wonder, if you talke of a wonder
Hor. And so it is: I wonder what it boads
Petr. Marrie peace it boads, and loue, and quiet life,
An awfull rule, and right supremicie:
And to be short, what not, that's sweete and happie
Bap. Now faire befall thee good Petruchio;
The wager thou hast won, and I will adde
Vnto their losses twentie thousand crownes,
Another dowrie to another daughter,
For she is chang'd as she had neuer bin
Petr. Nay, I will win my wager better yet,
And show more signe of her obedience,
Her new built vertue and obedience.
Enter Kate, Bianca, and Widdow.
See where she comes, and brings your froward Wiues
As prisoners to her womanlie perswasion:
Katerine, that Cap of yours becomes you not,
Off with that bable, throw it vnderfoote
Wid. Lord let me neuer haue a cause to sigh,
Till I be brought to such a sillie passe
Bian. Fie what a foolish dutie call you this?
Luc. I would your dutie were as foolish too:
The wisdome of your dutie faire Bianca,
Hath cost me fiue hundred crownes since supper time
Bian. The more foole you for laying on my dutie
Pet. Katherine I charge thee tell these head-strong
women, what dutie they doe owe their Lords and husbands
Wid. Come, come, your mocking: we will haue no
telling
Pet. Come on I say, and first begin with her
Wid. She shall not
Pet. I say she shall, and first begin with her
Kate. Fie, fie, vnknit that threatning vnkinde brow,
And dart not scornefull glances from those eies,
To wound thy Lord, thy King, thy Gouernour.
It blots thy beautie, as frosts doe bite the Meads,
Confounds thy fame, as whirlewinds shake faire budds,
And in no sence is meete or amiable.
A woman mou'd, is like a fountaine troubled,
Muddie, ill seeming, thicke, bereft of beautie,
And while it is so, none so dry or thirstie
Will daigne to sip, or touch one drop of it.
Thy husband is thy Lord, thy life, thy keeper,
Thy head, thy soueraigne: One that cares for thee,
And for thy maintenance. Commits his body
To painfull labour, both by sea and land:
To watch the night in stormes, the day in cold,
Whil'st thou ly'st warme at home, secure and safe,
And craues no other tribute at thy hands,
But loue, faire lookes, and true obedience;
Too little payment for so great a debt.
Such dutie as the subiect owes the Prince,
Euen such a woman oweth to her husband:
And when she is froward, peeuish, sullen, sowre,
And not obedient to his honest will,
What is she but a foule contending Rebell,
And gracelesse Traitor to her louing Lord?
I am asham'd that women are so simple,
To offer warre, where they should kneele for peace:
Or seeke for rule, supremacie, and sway,
When they are bound to serue, loue, and obay.
Why are our bodies soft, and weake, and smooth,
Vnapt to toyle and trouble in the world,
But that our soft conditions, and our harts,
Should well agree with our externall parts?
Come, come, you froward and vnable wormes,
My minde hath bin as bigge as one of yours,
My heart as great, my reason haplie more,
To bandie word for word, and frowne for frowne;
But now I see our Launces are but strawes:
Our strength as weake, our weakenesse past compare,
That seeming to be most, which we indeed least are.
Then vale your stomackes, for it is no boote,
And place your hands below your husbands foote:
In token of which dutie, if he please,
My hand is readie, may it do him ease
Pet. Why there's a wench: Come on, and kisse mee
Kate
Luc. Well go thy waies olde Lad for thou shalt ha't
Vin. Tis a good hearing, when children are toward
Luc. But a harsh hearing, when women are froward,
Pet. Come Kate, wee'le to bed,
We three are married, but you two are sped.
'Twas I wonne the wager, though you hit the white,
And being a winner, God giue you good night.
Exit Petruchio
Horten. Now goe thy wayes, thou hast tam'd a curst
Shrow
Luc. Tis a wonder, by your leaue, she wil be tam'd so.
FINIS. THE Taming of the Shrew.
All's Well, that Ends Well
Actus primus. Scoena Prima.
Enter yong Bertram Count of Rossillion, his Mother, and Helena,
Lord
Lafew, all in blacke.
Mother. In deliuering my sonne from me, I burie a second
husband
Ros. And I in going Madam, weep ore my fathers death anew; but I must attend his maiesties command, to whom I am now in Ward, euermore in subiection
Laf. You shall find of the King a husband Madame, you sir a father. He that so generally is at all times good, must of necessitie hold his vertue to you, whose worthinesse would stirre it vp where it wanted rather then lack it where there is such abundance
Mo. What hope is there of his Maiesties amendment? Laf. He hath abandon'd his Phisitions Madam, vnder whose practises he hath persecuted time with hope, and finds no other aduantage in the processe, but onely the loosing of hope by time
Mo. This yong Gentlewoman had a father, O that had, how sad a passage tis, whose skill was almost as great as his honestie, had it stretch'd so far, would haue made nature immortall, and death should haue play for lacke of worke. Would for the Kings sake hee were liuing, I thinke it would be the death of the Kings disease
Laf. How call'd you the man you speake of Madam?
Mo. He was famous sir in his profession, and it was
his great right to be so: Gerard de Narbon
Laf. He was excellent indeed Madam, the King very latelie spoke of him admiringly, and mourningly: hee was skilfull enough to haue liu'd stil, if knowledge could be set vp against mortallitie
Ros. What is it (my good Lord) the King languishes
of?
Laf. A Fistula my Lord
Ros. I heard not of it before
Laf. I would it were not notorious. Was this Gentlewoman the Daughter of Gerard de Narbon? Mo. His sole childe my Lord, and bequeathed to my ouer looking. I haue those hopes of her good, that her education promises her dispositions shee inherits, which makes faire gifts fairer: for where an vncleane mind carries vertuous qualities, there commendations go with pitty, they are vertues and traitors too: in her they are the better for their simplenesse; she deriues her honestie, and atcheeues her goodnesse
Lafew. Your commendations Madam get from her teares
Mo. 'Tis the best brine a Maiden can season her praise in. The remembrance of her father neuer approches her heart, but the tirrany of her sorrowes takes all liuelihood from her cheeke. No more of this Helena, go too, no more least it be rather thought you affect a sorrow, then to haue- Hell. I doe affect a sorrow indeed, but I haue it too
Laf. Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead,
excessiue greefe the enemie to the liuing
Mo. If the liuing be enemie to the greefe, the excesse
makes it soone mortall
Ros. Maddam I desire your holie wishes
Laf. How vnderstand we that?
Mo. Be thou blest Bertrame, and succeed thy father
In manners as in shape: thy blood and vertue
Contend for Empire in thee, and thy goodnesse
Share with thy birth-right. Loue all, trust a few,
Doe wrong to none: be able for thine enemie
Rather in power then vse: and keepe thy friend
Vnder thy owne lifes key. Be checkt for silence,
But neuer tax'd for speech. What heauen more wil,
That thee may furnish, and my prayers plucke downe,
Fall on thy head. Farwell my Lord,
'Tis an vnseason'd Courtier, good my Lord
Aduise him
Laf. He cannot want the best
That shall attend his loue
Mo. Heauen blesse him: Farwell Bertram
Ro. The best wishes that can be forg'd in your thoghts be seruants to you: be comfortable to my mother, your Mistris, and make much of her
Laf. Farewell prettie Lady, you must hold the credit
of your father
Hell. O were that all, I thinke not on my father,
And these great teares grace his remembrance more
Then those I shed for him. What was he like?
I haue forgott him. My imagination
Carries no fauour in't but Bertrams.
I am vndone, there is no liuing, none,
If Bertram be away. 'Twere all one,
That I should loue a bright particuler starre,
And think to wed it, he is so aboue me
In his bright radience and colaterall light,
Must I be comforted, not in his sphere;
Th' ambition in my loue thus plagues it selfe:
The hind that would be mated by the Lion
Must die for loue. 'Twas prettie, though a plague
To see him euerie houre to sit and draw
His arched browes, his hawking eie, his curles
In our hearts table: heart too capeable
Of euerie line and tricke of his sweet fauour.
But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancie
Must sanctifie his Reliques. Who comes heere?
Enter Parrolles.
One that goes with him: I loue him for his sake,
And yet I know him a notorious Liar,
Thinke him a great way foole, solie a coward,
Yet these fixt euils sit so fit in him,
That they take place, when Vertues steely bones
Lookes bleake i'th cold wind: withall, full ofte we see
Cold wisedome waighting on superfluous follie
Par. Saue you faire Queene
Hel. And you Monarch
Par. No
Hel. And no
Par. Are you meditating on virginitie?
Hel. I: you haue some staine of souldier in you: Let
mee aske you a question. Man is enemie to virginitie,
how may we barracado it against him?
Par. Keepe him out
Hel. But he assailes, and our virginitie though valiant, in the defence yet is weak: vnfold to vs some war-like resistance
Par. There is none: Man setting downe before you, will vndermine you, and blow you vp
Hel. Blesse our poore Virginity from vnderminers and blowers vp. Is there no Military policy how Virgins might blow vp men? Par. Virginity beeing blowne downe, Man will quicklier be blowne vp: marry in blowing him downe againe, with the breach your selues made, you lose your Citty. It is not politicke, in the Common-wealth of Nature, to preserue virginity. Losse of Virginitie, is rationall encrease, and there was neuer Virgin goe, till virginitie was first lost. That you were made of, is mettall to make Virgins. Virginitie, by beeing once lost, may be ten times found: by being euer kept, it is euer lost: 'tis too cold a companion: Away with't
Hel. I will stand for't a little, though therefore I die a Virgin
Par. There's little can bee saide in't, 'tis against the rule of Nature. To speake on the part of virginitie, is to accuse your Mothers; which is most infallible disobedience. He that hangs himselfe is a Virgin: Virginitie murthers it selfe, and should be buried in highwayes out of all sanctified limit, as a desperate Offendresse against Nature. Virginitie breedes mites, much like a Cheese, consumes it selfe to the very payring, and so dies with feeding his owne stomacke. Besides, Virginitie is peeuish, proud, ydle, made of selfe-loue, which is the most inhibited sinne in the Cannon. Keepe it not, you cannot choose but loose by't. Out with't: within ten yeare it will make it selfe two, which is a goodly increase, and the principall it selfe not much the worse. Away with't
Hel. How might one do sir, to loose it to her owne liking? Par. Let mee see. Marry ill, to like him that ne're it likes. 'Tis a commodity wil lose the glosse with lying: The longer kept, the lesse worth: Off with't while 'tis vendible. Answer the time of request, Virginitie like an olde Courtier, weares her cap out of fashion, richly suted, but vnsuteable, iust like the brooch & the tooth-pick, which were not now: your Date is better in your Pye and your Porredge, then in your cheeke: and your virginity, your old virginity, is like one of our French wither'd peares, it lookes ill, it eates drily, marry 'tis a wither'd peare: it was formerly better, marry yet 'tis a wither'd peare: Will you any thing with it? Hel. Not my virginity yet: There shall your Master haue a thousand loues, A Mother, and a Mistresse, and a friend, A Phenix, Captaine, and an enemy, A guide, a Goddesse, and a Soueraigne, A Counsellor, a Traitoresse, and a Deare: His humble ambition, proud humility: His iarring, concord: and his discord, dulcet: His faith, his sweet disaster: with a world Of pretty fond adoptious christendomes That blinking Cupid gossips. Now shall he: I know not what he shall, God send him well, The Courts a learning place, and he is one
Par. What one ifaith?
Hel. That I wish well, 'tis pitty
Par. What's pitty?
Hel. That wishing well had not a body in't,
Which might be felt, that we the poorer borne,
Whose baser starres do shut vs vp in wishes,
Might with effects of them follow our friends,
And shew what we alone must thinke, which neuer
Returnes vs thankes.
Enter Page.
Pag. Monsieur Parrolles,
My Lord cals for you
Par. Little Hellen farewell, if I can remember thee, I
will thinke of thee at Court
Hel. Monsieur Parolles, you were borne vnder a
charitable starre
Par. Vnder Mars I
Hel. I especially thinke, vnder Mars
Par. Why vnder Mars?
Hel. The warres hath so kept you vnder, that you
must needes be borne vnder Mars
Par. When he was predominant
Hel. When he was retrograde I thinke rather
Par. Why thinke you so?
Hel. You go so much backward when you fight
Par. That's for aduantage
Hel. So is running away, When feare proposes the safetie: But the composition that your valour and feare makes in you, is a vertue of a good wing, and I like the weare well
Paroll. I am so full of businesses, I cannot answere thee acutely: I will returne perfect Courtier, in the which my instruction shall serue to naturalize thee, so thou wilt be capeable of a Courtiers councell, and vnderstand what aduice shall thrust vppon thee, else thou diest in thine vnthankfulnes, and thine ignorance makes thee away, farewell: When thou hast leysure, say thy praiers: when thou hast none, remember thy Friends: Get thee a good husband, and vse him as he vses thee: So farewell
Hel. Our remedies oft in our selues do lye,
Which we ascribe to heauen: the fated skye
Giues vs free scope, onely doth backward pull
Our slow designes, when we our selues are dull.
What power is it, which mounts my loue so hye,
That makes me see, and cannot feede mine eye?
The mightiest space in fortune, Nature brings
To ioyne like, likes; and kisse like natiue things.
Impossible be strange attempts to those
That weigh their paines in sence, and do suppose
What hath beene, cannot be. Who euer stroue
To shew her merit, that did misse her loue?
(The Kings disease) my proiect may deceiue me,
But my intents are fixt, and will not leaue me.
Exit
Flourish Cornets. Enter the King of France with Letters, and diuers
Attendants.
King. The Florentines and Senoys are by th' eares,
Haue fought with equall fortune, and continue
A brauing warre
1.Lo.G. So tis reported sir
King. Nay tis most credible, we heere receiue it,
A certaintie vouch'd from our Cosin Austria,
With caution, that the Florentine will moue vs
For speedie ayde: wherein our deerest friend
Preiudicates the businesse, and would seeme
To haue vs make deniall
1.Lo.G. His loue and wisedome Approu'd so to your Maiesty, may pleade For amplest credence
King. He hath arm'd our answer,
And Florence is deni'de before he comes:
Yet for our Gentlemen that meane to see
The Tuscan seruice, freely haue they leaue
To stand on either part
2.Lo.E. It well may serue A nursserie to our Gentrie, who are sicke For breathing, and exploit
King. What's he comes heere.
Enter Bertram, Lafew, and Parolles.
1.Lor.G. It is the Count Rosignoll my good Lord,
Yong Bertram
King. Youth, thou bear'st thy Fathers face,
Franke Nature rather curious then in hast
Hath well compos'd thee: Thy Fathers morall parts
Maist thou inherit too: Welcome to Paris
Ber. My thankes and dutie are your Maiesties
Kin. I would I had that corporall soundnesse now,
As when thy father, and my selfe, in friendship
First tride our souldiership: he did looke farre
Into the seruice of the time, and was
Discipled of the brauest. He lasted long,
But on vs both did haggish Age steale on,
And wore vs out of act: It much repaires me
To talke of your good father; in his youth
He had the wit, which I can well obserue
To day in our yong Lords: but they may iest
Till their owne scorne returne to them vnnoted
Ere they can hide their leuitie in honour:
So like a Courtier, contempt nor bitternesse
Were in his pride, or sharpnesse; if they were,
His equall had awak'd them, and his honour
Clocke to it selfe, knew the true minute when
Exception bid him speake: and at this time
His tongue obey'd his hand. Who were below him,
He vs'd as creatures of another place,
And bow'd his eminent top to their low rankes,
Making them proud of his humilitie,
In their poore praise he humbled: Such a man
Might be a copie to these yonger times;
Which followed well, would demonstrate them now
But goers backward
Ber. His good remembrance sir
Lies richer in your thoughts, then on his tombe:
So in approofe liues not his Epitaph,
As in your royall speech
King. Would I were with him he would alwaies say,
(Me thinkes I heare him now) his plausiue words
He scatter'd not in eares, but grafted them
To grow there and to beare: Let me not liue,
This his good melancholly oft began
On the Catastrophe and heele of pastime
When it was out: Let me not liue (quoth hee)
After my flame lackes oyle, to be the snuffe
Of yonger spirits, whose apprehensiue senses
All but new things disdaine; whose iudgements are
Meere 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 honie can bring home,
I quickly were dissolued from my hiue
To giue some Labourers roome
2.L.E. You'r loued Sir,
They that least lend it you, shall lacke you first
Kin. I fill a place I know't: how long ist Count
Since the Physitian at your fathers died?
He was much fam'd
Ber. Some six moneths since my Lord
Kin. If he were liuing, I would try him yet.
Lend me an arme: the rest haue worne me out
With seuerall applications: Nature and sicknesse
Debate it at their leisure. Welcome Count,
My sonne's no deerer
Ber. Thanke your Maiesty.
Exit
Flourish.
Enter Countesse, Steward, and Clowne.
Coun. I will now heare, what say you of this gentlewoman
Ste. Maddam the care I haue had to euen your content, I wish might be found in the Kalender of my past endeuours, for then we wound our Modestie, and make foule the clearnesse of our deseruings, when of our selues we publish them
Coun. What doe's this knaue heere? Get you gone sirra: the complaints I haue heard of you I do not all beleeue, 'tis my slownesse that I doe not: For I know you lacke not folly to commit them, & haue abilitie enough to make such knaueries yours
Clo. 'Tis not vnknown to you Madam, I am a poore fellow
Coun. Well sir
Clo. No maddam, 'Tis not so well that I am poore, though manie of the rich are damn'd, but if I may haue your Ladiships good will to goe to the world, Isbell the woman and I will doe as we may
Coun. Wilt thou needes be a begger?
Clo. I doe beg your good will in this case
Cou. In what case?
Clo. In Isbels case and mine owne: seruice is no heritage,
and I thinke I shall neuer haue the blessing of God,
till I haue issue a my bodie: for they say barnes are blessings
Cou. Tell me thy reason why thou wilt marrie?
Clo. My poore bodie Madam requires it, I am driuen
on by the flesh, and hee must needes goe that the diuell
driues
Cou. Is this all your worships reason?
Clo. Faith Madam I haue other holie reasons, such as
they are
Cou. May the world know them?
Clo. I haue beene Madam a wicked creature, as you
and all flesh and blood are, and indeede I doe marrie that
I may repent
Cou. Thy marriage sooner then thy wickednesse
Clo. I am out a friends Madam, and I hope to haue friends for my wiues sake
Cou. Such friends are thine enemies knaue
Clo. Y'are shallow Madam in great friends, for the knaues come to doe that for me which I am a wearie of: he that eres my Land, spares my teame, and giues mee leaue to Inne the crop: if I be his cuckold hee's my drudge; he that comforts my wife, is the cherisher of my flesh and blood; hee that cherishes my flesh and blood, loues my flesh and blood; he that loues 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 feare in marriage, for yong Charbon the Puritan, and old Poysam the Papist, how somere their hearts are seuer'd in Religion, their heads are both one, they may ioule horns together like any Deare i'th Herd
Cou. Wilt thou euer be a foule mouth'd and calumnious knaue? Clo. A Prophet I Madam, and I speake the truth the next waie, for I the Ballad will repeate, which men full true shall finde, your marriage comes by destinie, your Cuckow sings by kinde
Cou. Get you gone sir, Ile talke with you more anon
Stew. May it please you Madam, that hee bid Hellen
come to you, of her I am to speake
Cou. Sirra tell my gentlewoman I would speake with
her, Hellen I meane
Clo. Was this faire face the cause, quoth she,
Why the Grecians sacked Troy,
Fond done, done, fond was this King Priams ioy,
With that she sighed as she stood,
bis
And gaue this sentence then, among nine bad if one be good, among nine bad if one be good, there's yet one good in ten
Cou. What, one good in tenne? you corrupt the song sirra
Clo. One good woman in ten Madam, which is a purifying ath' song: would God would serue the world so all the yeere, weed finde no fault with the tithe woman if I were the Parson, one in ten quoth a? and wee might haue a good woman borne but ore euerie blazing starre, or at an earthquake, 'twould mend the Lotterie well, a man may draw his heart out ere a plucke one
Cou. Youle begone sir knaue, and doe as I command you? Clo. That man should be at womans command, and yet no hurt done, though honestie be no Puritan, yet it will doe no hurt, it will weare the Surplis of humilitie ouer the blacke-Gowne of a bigge heart: I am going forsooth, the businesse is for Helen to come hither. Enter.
Cou. Well now
Stew. I know Madam you loue your Gentlewoman intirely
Cou. Faith I doe: her Father bequeath'd her to mee, and she her selfe without other aduantage, may lawfullie make title to as much loue as shee findes, there is more owing her then is paid, and more shall be paid her then sheele demand
Stew. Madam, I was verie late more neere her then I thinke shee wisht mee, alone shee was, and did communicate to her selfe her owne words to her owne eares, shee thought, I dare vowe for her, they toucht not anie stranger sence, her matter was, shee loued your Sonne; Fortune shee said was no goddesse, that had put such difference betwixt their two estates: Loue no god, that would not extend his might onelie, where qualities were leuell, Queene of Virgins, that would suffer her poore Knight surpris'd without rescue in the first assault or ransome afterward: This shee deliuer'd in the most bitter touch of sorrow that ere I heard Virgin exclaime in, which I held my dutie speedily to acquaint you withall, sithence in the losse that may happen, it concernes you something to know it
Cou. You haue discharg'd this honestlie, keepe it to your selfe, manie likelihoods inform'd mee of this before, which hung so tottring in the ballance, that I could neither beleeue nor misdoubt: praie you leaue mee, stall this in your bosome, and I thanke you for your honest care: I will speake with you further anon.
Exit Steward.
Enter Hellen.
Old.Cou. Euen so it was with me when I was yong:
If euer we are natures, these are ours, this thorne
Doth to our Rose of youth rightlie belong
Our bloud to vs, this to our blood is borne,
It is the show, and seale of natures truth,
Where loues strong passion is imprest in youth,
By our remembrances of daies forgon,
Such were our faults, or then we thought them none,
Her eie is sicke on't, I obserue her now
Hell. What is your pleasure Madam?
Ol.Cou. You know Hellen I am a mother to you
Hell. Mine honorable Mistris
Ol.Cou. Nay a mother, why not a mother? when I
sed a mother
Me thought 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 seene
Adoption striues with nature, and choise breedes
A natiue slip to vs from forraine seedes:
You nere opprest me with a mothers groane,
Yet I expresse to you a mothers care,
(Gods mercie maiden) dos it curd thy blood
To say I am thy mother? what's the matter,
That this distempered messenger of wet?
The manie colour'd Iris rounds thine eye? - Why, that you are my
daughter?
Hell. That I am not
Old.Cou. I say I am your Mother
Hell. Pardon Madam.
The Count Rosillion cannot be my brother:
I am from humble, he from honored name:
No note vpon my Parents, his all noble,
My Master, my deere Lord he is, and I
His seruant liue, and will his vassall die:
He must not be my brother
Ol.Cou. Nor I your Mother
Hell. You are my mother Madam, would you were
So that my Lord your sonne were not my brother,
Indeede my mother, or were you both our mothers,
I care no more for, then I doe for heauen,
So I were not his sister, cant no other,
But I your daughter, he must be my brother
Old.Cou. Yes Hellen, you might be my daughter in law,
God shield you meane it not, daughter and mother
So striue vpon your pulse; what pale agen?
My feare hath catcht your fondnesse! now I see
The mistrie of your louelinesse, and finde
Your salt teares head, now to all sence 'tis grosse:
You loue my sonne, inuention is asham'd
Against the proclamation of thy passion
To say thou doost not: therefore tell me true,
But tell me then 'tis so, for looke, thy cheekes
Confesse it 'ton tooth to th' other, and thine eies
See it so grosely showne in thy behauiours,
That in their kinde they speake it, onely sinne
And hellish obstinacie tye thy tongue
That truth should be suspected, speake, ist so?
If it be so, you haue wound a goodly clewe:
If it be not, forsweare't how ere I charge thee,
As heauen shall worke in me for thine auaile
To tell me truelie
Hell. Good Madam pardon me
Cou. Do you loue my Sonne?
Hell. Your pardon noble Mistris
Cou. Loue you my Sonne?
Hell. Doe not you loue him Madam?
Cou. Goe not about; my loue hath in't a bond
Whereof the world takes note: Come, come, disclose:
The state of your affection, for your passions
Haue to the full appeach'd
Hell. Then I confesse
Here on my knee, before high heauen and you,
That before you, and next vnto high heauen, I loue your
Sonne:
My friends were poore but honest, so's my loue:
Be not offended, for it hurts not him
That he is lou'd of me; I follow him not
By any token of presumptuous suite,
Nor would I haue him, till I doe deserue him,
Yet neuer know how that desert should be:
I know I loue in vaine, striue against hope:
Yet in this captious, and intemible Siue.
I still poure in the waters of my loue
And lacke not to loose still; thus Indian like
Religious in mine error, I adore
The Sunne that lookes vpon his worshipper,
But knowes of him no more. My deerest Madam,
Let not your hate incounter with my loue,
For louing where you doe; but if your selfe,
Whose aged honor cites a vertuous youth,
Did euer, in so true a flame of liking,
Wish chastly, and loue dearely, that your Dian
Was both her selfe and loue, O then giue pittie
To her whose state is such, that cannot choose
But lend and giue where she is sure to loose;
That seekes not to finde that, her search implies,
But riddle like, liues sweetely where she dies
Cou. Had you not lately an intent, speake truely,
To goe to Paris?
Hell. Madam I had
Cou. Wherefore? tell true
Hell. I will tell truth, by grace it selfe I sweare:
You know my Father left me some prescriptions
Of rare and prou'd effects, such as his reading
And manifest experience, had collected
For generall soueraigntie: and that he wil'd me
In heedefull'st reseruation to bestow them,
As notes, whose faculties inclusiue were,
More then they were in note: Amongst the rest,
There is a remedie, approu'd, set downe,
To cure the desperate languishings whereof
The King is render'd lost
Cou. This was your motiue for Paris, was it, speake?
Hell. My Lord, your sonne, made me to think of this;
Else Paris, and the medicine, and the King,
Had from the conuersation of my thoughts,
Happily beene absent then
Cou. But thinke you Hellen,
If you should tender your supposed aide,
He would receiue it? He and his Phisitions
Are of a minde, he, that they cannot helpe him:
They, that they cannot helpe, how shall they credit
A poore vnlearned Virgin, when the Schooles
Embowel'd of their doctrine, haue left off
The danger to it selfe
Hell. There's something in't
More then my Fathers skill, which was the great'st
Of his profession, that his good receipt,
Shall for my legacie be sanctified
Byth' luckiest stars in heauen, and would your honor
But giue me leaue to trie successe, I'de venture
The well lost life of mine, on his Graces cure,
By such a day, an houre
Cou. Doo'st thou beleeue't?
Hell. I Madam knowingly
Cou. Why Hellen thou shalt haue my leaue and loue,
Meanes and attendants, and my louing greetings
To those of mine in Court, Ile staie at home
And praie Gods blessing into thy attempt:
Begon to morrow, and be sure of this,
What I can helpe thee to, thou shalt not misse.
Exeunt.
Actus Secundus.
Enter the King with diuers yong Lords, taking leaue for the Florentine warre: Count, Rosse, and Parrolles. Florish Cornets.
King. Farewell yong Lords, these warlike principles
Doe not throw from you, and you my Lords farewell:
Share the aduice betwixt you, if both gaine, all
The guift doth stretch it selfe as 'tis receiu'd,
And is enough for both
Lord.G. 'Tis our hope sir,
After well entred souldiers, to returne
And finde your grace in health
King. No, no, it cannot be; and yet my heart
Will not confesse he owes the mallady
That doth my life besiege: farwell yong Lords,
Whether I liue or die, be you the sonnes
Of worthy French men: let higher Italy
(Those bated that inherit but the fall
Of the last Monarchy) see that you come
Not to wooe honour, but to wed it, when
The brauest questant shrinkes: finde what you seeke,
That fame may cry you loud: I say farewell
L.G. Health at your bidding serue your Maiesty
King. Those girles of Italy, take heed of them,
They say our French, lacke language to deny
If they demand: beware of being Captiues
Before you serue
Bo. Our hearts receiue your warnings
King. Farewell, come hether to me
1.Lo.G. Oh my sweet Lord y you wil stay behind vs
Parr. 'Tis not his fault the spark
2.Lo.E. Oh 'tis braue warres
Parr. Most admirable, I haue seene those warres
Rossill. I am commanded here, and kept a coyle with,
Too young, and the next yeere, and 'tis too early
Parr. And thy minde stand too't boy,
Steale away brauely
Rossill. I shal stay here the for-horse to a smocke,
Creeking my shooes on the plaine Masonry,
Till honour be bought vp, and no sword worne
But one to dance with: by heauen, Ile steale away
1.Lo.G. There's honour in the theft
Parr. Commit it Count
2.Lo.E. I am your accessary, and so farewell
Ros. I grow to you, & our parting is a tortur'd body
1.Lo.G. Farewell Captaine
2.Lo.E. Sweet Mounsier Parolles
Parr. Noble Heroes; my sword and yours are kinne, good sparkes and lustrous, a word good mettals. You shall finde in the Regiment of the Spinij, one Captaine Spurio his sicatrice, with an Embleme of warre heere on his sinister cheeke; it was this very sword entrench'd it: say to him I liue, and obserue his reports for me
Lo.G. We shall noble Captaine
Parr. Mars doate on you for his nouices, what will
ye doe?
Ross. Stay the King
Parr. Vse a more spacious ceremonie to the Noble Lords, you haue restrain'd your selfe within the List of too cold an adieu: be more expressiue to them; for they weare themselues in the cap of the time, there do muster true gate; eat, speake, and moue vnder the influence of the most receiu'd starre, and though the deuill leade the measure, such are to be followed: after them, and take a more dilated farewell
Ross. And I will doe so
Parr. Worthy fellowes, and like to prooue most sinewie sword-men.
Exeunt.
Enter Lafew.
L.Laf. Pardon my Lord for mee and for my tidings
King. Ile see thee to stand vp
L.Laf. Then heres a man stands that has brought his pardon,
I would you had kneel'd my Lord to aske me mercy,
And that at my bidding you could so stand vp
King. I would I had, so I had broke thy pate
And askt thee mercy for't
Laf. Goodfaith a-crosse, but my good Lord 'tis thus,
Will you be cur'd of your infirmitie?
King. No
Laf. O will you eat no grapes my royall foxe?
Yes but you will, my noble grapes, and if
My royall foxe could reach them: I haue seen a medicine
That's able to breath life into a stone,
Quicken a rocke, and make you dance Canari
With sprightly fire and motion, whose simple touch
Is powerfull to arayse King Pippen, nay
To giue great Charlemaine a pen in's hand
And write to her a loue-line
King. What her is this?
Laf. Why doctor she: my Lord, there's one arriu'd,
If you will see her: now by my faith and honour,
If seriously I may conuay my thoughts
In this my light deliuerance, I haue spoke
With one, that in her sexe, her yeeres, profession,
Wisedome and constancy, hath amaz'd mee more
Then I dare blame my weakenesse: will you see her?
For that is her demand, and know her businesse?
That done, laugh well at me
King. Now good Lafew,
Bring in the admiration, that we with thee
May spend our wonder too, or take off thine
By wondring how thou tookst it
Laf. Nay, Ile fit you,
And not be all day neither
King. Thus he his speciall nothing euer prologues
Laf. Nay, come your waies.
Enter Hellen.
King. This haste hath wings indeed
Laf. Nay, come your waies,
This is his Maiestie, say your minde to him,
A Traitor you doe looke like, but such traitors
His Maiesty seldome feares, I am Cresseds Vncle,
That dare leaue two together, far you well.
Enter.
King. Now faire one, do's your busines follow vs?
Hel. I my good Lord,
Gerard de Narbon was my father,
In what he did professe, well found
King. I knew him
Hel. The rather will I spare my praises towards him,
Knowing him is enough: on's bed of death,
Many receits he gaue me, chieflie one,
Which as the dearest issue of his practice
And of his olde experience, th' onlie darling,
He bad me store vp, as a triple eye,
Safer then mine owne two: more deare I haue so,
And hearing your high Maiestie is toucht
With that malignant cause, wherein the honour
Of my deare fathers gift, stands cheefe in power,
I come to tender it, and my appliance,
With all bound humblenesse
King. We thanke you maiden,
But may not be so credulous of cure,
When our most learned Doctors leaue vs, and
The congregated Colledge haue concluded,
That labouring Art can neuer ransome nature
From her inaydible estate: I say we must not
So staine our iudgement, or corrupt our hope,
To prostitute our past-cure malladie
To empericks, or to disseuer so
Our great selfe and our credit, to esteeme
A sencelesse helpe, when helpe past sence we deeme
Hell. My dutie then shall pay me for my paines:
I will no more enforce mine office on you,
Humbly intreating from your royall thoughts,
A modest one to beare me backe againe
King. I cannot giue thee lesse to be cal'd gratefull:
Thou thoughtst to helpe me, and such thankes I giue,
As one neere death to those that wish him liue:
But what at full I know, thou knowst no part,
I knowing all my perill, thou no Art
Hell. What I can doe, can doe no hurt to try,
Since you set vp your rest 'gainst remedie:
He that of greatest workes is finisher,
Oft does them by the weakest minister:
So holy Writ, in babes hath iudgement showne,
When Iudges haue bin babes; great flouds haue flowne
From simple sources: and great Seas haue dried
When Miracles haue by the great'st beene denied.
Oft expectation failes, and most oft there
Where most it promises: and oft it hits,
Where hope is coldest, and despaire most shifts
King. I must not heare thee, fare thee wel kind maide,
Thy paines not vs'd, must by thy selfe be paid,
Proffers not tooke, reape thanks for their reward
Hel. Inspired Merit so by breath is bard,
It is not so with him that all things knowes
As 'tis with vs, that square our guesse by showes:
But most it is presumption in vs, when
The help of heauen we count the act of men.
Deare sir, to my endeauors giue consent,
Of heauen, not me, make an experiment.
I am not an Imposture, that proclaime
My selfe against the leuill of mine aime,
But know I thinke, and thinke I know most sure,
My Art is not past power, nor you past cure
King. Art thou so confident? Within what space
Hop'st thou my cure?
Hel. The greatest grace lending grace,
Ere twice the horses of the sunne shall bring
Their fiery torcher his diurnall ring,
Ere twice in murke and occidentall dampe
Moist Hesperus hath quench'd her sleepy Lampe:
Or foure and twenty times the Pylots glasse
Hath told the theeuish minutes, how they passe:
What is infirme, from your sound parts shall flie,
Health shall liue free, and sickenesse freely dye
King. Vpon thy certainty and confidence,
What dar'st thou venter?
Hell. Taxe of impudence,
A strumpets boldnesse, a divulged shame
Traduc'd by odious ballads: my maidens name
Seard otherwise, ne worse of worst extended
With vildest torture, let my life be ended
Kin. Methinks in thee some blessed spirit doth speak
His powerfull sound, within an organ weake:
And what impossibility would slay
In common sence, sence saues another way:
Thy life is deere, for all that life can rate
Worth name of life, in thee hath estimate:
Youth, beauty, wisedome, courage, all
That happines and prime, can happy call:
Thou this to hazard, needs must intimate
Skill infinite, or monstrous desperate,
Sweet practiser, thy Physicke I will try,
That ministers thine owne death if I die
Hel. If I breake time, or flinch in property
Of what I spoke, vnpittied let me die,
And well deseru'd: not helping, death's my fee,
But if I helpe, what doe you promise me
Kin. Make thy demand
Hel. But will you make it euen?
Kin. I by my Scepter, and my hopes of helpe
Hel. Then shalt thou giue me with thy kingly hand
What husband in thy power I will command:
Exempted be from me the arrogance
To choose from forth the royall bloud of France,
My low and humble name to propagate
With any branch or image of thy state:
But such a one thy vassall, whom I know
Is free for me to aske, thee to bestow
Kin. Heere is my hand, the premises obseru'd,
Thy will by my performance shall be seru'd:
So make the choice of thy owne time, for I
Thy resolv'd Patient, on thee still relye:
More should I question thee, and more I must,
Though more to know, could not be more to trust:
From whence thou cam'st, how tended on, but rest
Vnquestion'd welcome, and vndoubted blest.
Giue me some helpe heere hoa, if thou proceed,
As high as word, my deed shall match thy deed.
Florish. Exit.
Enter Countesse and Clowne.
Lady. Come on sir, I shall now put you to the height
of your breeding
Clown. I will shew my selfe highly fed, and lowly
taught, I know my businesse is but to the Court
Lady. To the Court, why what place make you speciall, when you put off that with such contempt, but to the Court? Clo. Truly Madam, if God haue lent a man any manners, hee may easilie put it off at Court: hee that cannot make a legge, put off's cap, kisse his hand, and say nothing, has neither legge, hands, lippe, nor cap; and indeed such a fellow, to say precisely, were not for the Court, but for me, I haue an answere will serue all men
Lady. Marry that's a bountifull answere that fits all questions
Clo. It is like a Barbers chaire that fits all buttockes, the pin buttocke, the quatch-buttocke, the brawn buttocke, or any buttocke
Lady. Will your answere serue fit to all questions? Clo. As fit as ten groats is for the hand of an Atturney, as your French Crowne for your taffety punke, as Tibs rush for Toms fore-finger, as a pancake for Shroue-tuesday, a Morris for May-day, as the naile to his hole, the Cuckold to his horne, as a scolding queane to a wrangling knaue, as the Nuns lip to the Friers mouth, nay as the pudding to his skin
Lady. Haue you, I say, an answere of such fitnesse for
all questions?
Clo. From below your Duke, to beneath your Constable,
it will fit any question
Lady. It must be an answere of most monstrous size,
that must fit all demands
Clo. But a triflle neither in good faith, if the learned should speake truth of it: heere it is, and all that belongs to't. Aske mee if I am a Courtier, it shall doe you no harme to learne
Lady. To be young againe if we could: I will bee a
foole in question, hoping to bee the wiser by your answer
La. I pray you sir, are you a Courtier?
Clo. O Lord sir theres a simple putting off: more,
more, a hundred of them
La. Sir I am a poore freind of yours, that loues you
Clo. O Lord sir, thicke, thicke, spare not me
La. I thinke sir, you can eate none of this homely meate
Clo. O Lord sir; nay put me too't, I warrant you
La. You were lately whipt sir as I thinke
Clo. O Lord sir, spare not me
La. Doe you crie O Lord sir at your whipping, and spare not me? Indeed your O Lord sir, is very sequent to your whipping: you would answere very well to a whipping if you were but bound too't
Clo. I nere had worse lucke in my life in my O Lord
sir: I see things may serue long, but not serue euer
La. I play the noble huswife with the time, to entertaine
it so merrily with a foole
Clo. O Lord sir, why there't serues well agen
La. And end sir to your businesse: giue Hellen this,
And vrge her to a present answer backe,
Commend me to my kinsmen, and my sonne,
This is not much
Clo. Not much commendation to them
La. Not much imployement for you, you vnderstand me
Clo. Most fruitfully, I am there, before my legges
La. Hast you agen.
Exeunt.
Enter Count, Lafew, and Parolles.
Ol.Laf. They say miracles are past, and we haue our Philosophicall persons, to make moderne and familiar things supernaturall and causelesse. Hence is it, that we make trifles of terrours, ensconcing our selues into seeming knowledge, when we should submit our selues to an vnknowne feare
Par. Why 'tis the rarest argument of wonder, that hath shot out in our latter times
Ros. And so 'tis
Ol.Laf. To be relinquisht of the Artists
Par. So I say both of Galen and Paracelsus
Ol.Laf. Of all the learned and authenticke fellowes
Par. Right so I say
Ol.Laf. That gaue him out incureable
Par. Why there 'tis, so say I too
Ol.Laf. Not to be help'd
Par. Right, as 'twere a man assur'd of a-
Ol.Laf. Vncertaine life, and sure death
Par. Iust, you say well: so would I haue said
Ol.Laf. I may truly say, it is a noueltie to the world
Par. It is indeede if you will haue it in shewing, you
shall reade it in what do ye call there
Ol.Laf. A shewing of a heauenly effect in an earthly
Actor
Par. That's it, I would haue said, the verie same
Ol.Laf. Why your Dolphin is not lustier: fore mee
I speake in respect-
Par. Nay 'tis strange, 'tis very straunge, that is the
breefe and the tedious of it, and he's of a most facinerious
spirit, that will not acknowledge it to be the-
Ol.Laf. Very hand of heauen
Par. I, so I say
Ol.Laf. In a most weake-
Par. And debile minister great power, great trancendence,
which should indeede giue vs a further vse to
be made, then alone the recou'ry of the king, as to bee
Old Laf. Generally thankfull.
Enter King, Hellen, and attendants.
Par. I would haue said it, you say well: heere comes
the King
Ol.Laf. Lustique, as the Dutchman saies: Ile like a maide the Better whil'st I haue a tooth in my head: why he's able to leade her a Carranto
Par. Mor du vinager, is not this Helen?
Ol.Laf. Fore God I thinke so
King. Goe call before mee all the Lords in Court,
Sit my preseruer by thy patients side,
And with this healthfull hand whose banisht sence
Thou hast repeal'd, a second time receyue
The confirmation of my promis'd guift,
Which but attends thy naming.
Enter 3 or 4 Lords.
Faire Maide send forth thine eye, this youthfull parcell
Of Noble Batchellors, stand at my bestowing,
Ore whom both Soueraigne power, and fathers voice
I haue to vse; thy franke election make,
Thou hast power to choose, and they none to forsake
Hel. To each of you, one faire and vertuous Mistris;
Fall when loue please, marry to each but one
Old Laf. I'de giue bay curtall, and his furniture
My mouth no more were broken then these boyes,
And writ as little beard
King. Peruse them well:
Not one of those, but had a Noble father.
She addresses her to a Lord.
Hel. Gentlemen, heauen hath through me, restor'd the king to health
All. We vnderstand it, and thanke heauen for you
Hel. I am a simple Maide, and therein wealthiest
That I protest, I simply am a Maide:
Please it your Maiestie, I haue done already:
The blushes in my cheekes thus whisper mee,
We blush that thou shouldst choose, but be refused;
Let the white death sit on thy cheeke for euer,
Wee'l nere come there againe
King. Make choise and see,
Who shuns thy loue, shuns all his loue in mee
Hel. Now Dian from thy Altar do I fly,
And to imperiall loue, that God most high
Do my sighes streame: Sir, wil you heare my suite?
1.Lo. And grant it
Hel. Thankes sir, all the rest is mute
Ol.Laf. I had rather be in this choise, then throw
Ames-ace for my life
Hel. The honor sir that flames in your faire eyes,
Before I speake too threatningly replies:
Loue make your fortunes twentie times aboue
Her that so wishes, and her humble loue
2.Lo. No better if you please
Hel. My wish receiue,
Which great loue grant, and so I take my leaue
Ol.Laf. Do all they denie her? And they were sons of mine, I'de haue them whip'd, or I would send them to'th Turke to make Eunuches of
Hel. Be not afraid that I your hand should take,
Ile neuer do you wrong for your owne sake:
Blessing vpon your vowes, and in your bed
Finde fairer fortune, if you euer wed
Old Laf. These boyes are boyes of Ice, they'le none haue heere: sure they are bastards to the English, the French nere got em
La. You are too young, too happie, and too good
To make your selfe a sonne out of my blood
4.Lord. Faire one, I thinke not so
Ol.Lord There's one grape yet, I am sure thy father drunke wine. But if thou be'st not an asse, I am a youth of fourteene: I haue knowne thee already
Hel. I dare not say I take you, but I giue
Me and my seruice, euer whilst I liue
Into your guiding power: This is the man
King. Why then young Bertram take her shee's thy
wife
Ber. My wife my Leige? I shal beseech your highnes
In such a busines, giue me leaue to vse
The helpe of mine owne eies
King. Know'st thou not Bertram what shee ha's
done for mee?
Ber. Yes my good Lord, but neuer hope to know
why I should marrie her
King. Thou know'st shee ha's rais'd me from my sickly
bed
Ber. But followes it my Lord, to bring me downe
Must answer for your raising? I knowe her well:
Shee had her breeding at my fathers charge:
A poore Physitians daughter my wife? Disdaine
Rather corrupt me euer
King. Tis onely title thou disdainst in her, the which
I can build vp: strange is it that our bloods
Of colour, waight, and heat, pour'd all together,
Would quite confound distinction: yet stands off
In differences so mightie. If she bee
All that is vertuous (saue what thou dislik'st)
A poore Phisitians daughter, thou dislik'st
Of vertue for the name: but doe not so:
From lowest place, whence vertuous things proceed,
The place is dignified by th' doers deede.
Where great additions swell's, and vertue none,
It is a dropsied honour. Good alone,
Is good without a name? Vilenesse is so:
The propertie by what is is, should go,
Not by the title. Shee is young, wise, faire,
In these, to Nature shee's immediate heire:
And these breed honour: that is honours scorne,
Which challenges it selfe as honours borne,
And is not like the sire: Honours thriue,
When rather from our acts we them deriue
Then our fore-goers: the meere words, a slaue
Debosh'd on euerie tombe, on euerie graue:
A lying Trophee, and as oft is dumbe,
Where dust, and damn'd obliuion is the Tombe.
Of honour'd bones indeed, what should be saide?
If thou canst like this creature, as a maide,
I can create the rest: Vertue, and shee
Is her owne dower: Honour and wealth, from mee
Ber. I cannot loue her, nor will striue to doo't
King. Thou wrong'st thy selfe, if thou shold'st striue
to choose
Hel. That you are well restor'd my Lord, I'me glad:
Let the rest go
King. My Honor's at the stake, which to defeate
I must produce my power. Heere, take her hand,
Proud scornfull boy, vnworthie this good gift,
That dost in vile misprision shackle vp
My loue, and her desert: that canst not dreame,
We poizing vs in her defectiue scale,
Shall weigh thee to the beame: That wilt not know,
It is in Vs to plant thine Honour, where
We please to haue it grow. Checke thy contempt:
Obey Our will, which trauailes in thy good:
Beleeue not thy disdaine, but presentlie
Do thine owne fortunes that obedient right
Which both thy dutie owes, and Our power claimes,
Or I will throw thee from my care for euer
Into the staggers, and the carelesse lapse
Of youth and ignorance: both my reuenge and hate
Loosing vpon thee, in the name of iustice,
Without all termes of pittie. Speake, thine answer
Ber. Pardon my gracious Lord: for I submit
My fancie to your eies, when I consider
What great creation, and what dole of honour
Flies where you bid it: I finde that she which late
Was in my Nobler thoughts, most base: is now
The praised of the King, who so ennobled,
Is as 'twere borne so
King. Take her by the hand,
And tell her she is thine: to whom I promise
A counterpoize: If not to thy estate,
A ballance more repleat
Ber. I take her hand
Kin. Good fortune, and the fauour of the King
Smile vpon this Contract: whose Ceremonie
Shall seeme expedient on the now borne briefe,
And be perform'd to night: the solemne Feast
Shall more attend vpon the coming space,
Expecting absent friends. As thou lou'st her,
Thy loue's to me Religious: else, do's erre.
Exeunt.
Parolles and Lafew stay behind, commenting of this wedding.
Laf. Do you heare Monsieur? A word with you
Par. Your pleasure sir
Laf. Your Lord and Master did well to make his recantation
Par. Recantation? My Lord? my Master?
Laf. I: Is it not a Language I speake?
Par. A most harsh one, and not to bee vnderstoode
without bloudie succeeding. My Master?
Laf. Are you Companion to the Count Rosillion?
Par. To any Count, to all Counts: to what is man
Laf. To what is Counts man: Counts maister is of
another stile
Par. You are too old sir: Let it satisfie you, you are
too old
Laf. I must tell thee sirrah, I write Man: to which
title age cannot bring thee
Par. What I dare too well do, I dare not do
Laf. I did thinke thee for two ordinaries: to bee a prettie wise fellow, thou didst make tollerable vent of thy trauell, it might passe: yet the scarffes and the bannerets about thee, did manifoldlie disswade me from beleeuing thee a vessell of too great a burthen. I haue now found thee, when I loose thee againe, I care not: yet art thou good for nothing but taking vp, and that th'ourt scarce worth
Par. Hadst thou not the priuiledge of Antiquity vpon thee
Laf. Do not plundge thy selfe to farre in anger, least thou hasten thy triall: which if, Lord haue mercie on thee for a hen, so my good window of Lettice fare thee well, thy casement I neede not open, for I look through thee. Giue me thy hand
Par. My Lord, you giue me most egregious indignity
Laf. I with all my heart, and thou art worthy of it
Par. I haue not my Lord deseru'd it
Laf. Yes good faith, eu'ry dramme of it, and I will not bate thee a scruple
Par. Well, I shall be wiser
Laf. Eu'n as soone as thou can'st, for thou hast to pull at a smacke a'th contrarie. If euer thou bee'st bound in thy skarfe and beaten, thou shall finde what it is to be proud of thy bondage, I haue a desire to holde my acquaintance with thee, or rather my knowledge, that I may say in the default, he is a man I know
Par. My Lord you do me most insupportable vexation
Laf. I would it were hell paines for thy sake, and my poore doing eternall: for doing I am past, as I will by thee, in what motion age will giue me leaue. Enter.
Par. Well, thou hast a sonne shall take this disgrace off me; scuruy, old, filthy, scuruy Lord: Well, I must be patient, there is no fettering of authority. Ile beate him (by my life) if I can meete him with any conuenience, and he were double and double a Lord. Ile haue no more pittie of his age then I would haue of- Ile beate him, and if I could but meet him agen. Enter Lafew.
Laf. Sirra, your Lord and masters married, there's newes for you: you haue a new Mistris
Par. I most vnfainedly beseech your Lordshippe to make some reseruation of your wrongs. He is my good Lord, whom I serue aboue is my master
Laf. Who? God
Par. I sir
Laf. The deuill it is, that's thy master. Why dooest thou garter vp thy armes a this fashion? Dost make hose of thy sleeues? Do other seruants so? Thou wert best set thy lower part where thy nose stands. By mine Honor, if I were but two houres yonger, I'de beate thee: mee-think'st thou art a generall offence, and euery man shold beate thee: I thinke thou wast created for men to breath themselues vpon thee
Par. This is hard and vndeserued measure my Lord
Laf. Go too sir, you were beaten in Italy for picking a kernell out of a Pomgranat, you are a vagabond, and no true traueller: you are more sawcie with Lordes and honourable personages, then the Commission of your birth and vertue giues you Heraldry. You are not worth another word, else I'de call you knaue. I leaue you.
Exit
Enter Count Rossillion.
Par. Good, very good, it is so then: good, very good, let it be conceal'd awhile
Ros. Vndone, and forfeited to cares for euer
Par. What's the matter sweet-heart?
Rossill. Although before the solemne Priest I haue
sworne, I will not bed her
Par. What? what sweet heart?
Ros. O my Parrolles, they haue married me:
Ile to the Tuscan warres, and neuer bed her
Par. France is a dog-hole, and it no more merits,
The tread of a mans foot: too'th warres
Ros. There's letters from my mother: What th' import
is, I know not yet
Par. I that would be knowne: too'th warrs my boy,
too'th warres:
He weares his honor in a boxe vnseene,
That hugges his kickie wickie heare at home,
Spending his manlie marrow in her armes
Which should sustaine the bound and high curuet
Of Marses fierie steed: to other Regions,
France is a stable, wee that dwell in't Iades,
Therefore too'th warre
Ros. It shall be so, Ile 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 speake. His present gift
Shall furnish me to those Italian fields
Where noble fellowes strike: Warres is no strife
To the darke house, and the detected wife
Par. Will this Caprichio hold in thee, art sure?
Ros. Go with me to my chamber, and aduice me.
Ile send her straight away: To morrow,
Ile to the warres, she to her single sorrow
Par. Why these bals bound, ther's noise in it. Tis hard
A yong man maried, is a man that's mard:
Therefore away, and leaue her brauely: go,
The King ha's done you wrong: but hush 'tis so.
Exit
Enter Helena and Clowne.
Hel. My mother greets me kindly, is she well? Clo. She is not well, but yet she has her health, she's very merrie, but yet she is not well: but thankes be giuen she's very well, and wants nothing i'th world: but yet she is not well
Hel. If she be verie wel, what do's she ayle, that she's
not verie well?
Clo. Truly she's very well indeed, but for two things
Hel. What two things?
Clo. One, that she's not in heauen, whether God send
her quickly: the other, that she's in earth, from whence
God send her quickly.
Enter Parolles.
Par. Blesse you my fortunate Ladie
Hel. I hope sir I haue your good will to haue mine
owne good fortune
Par. You had my prayers to leade them on, and to
keepe them on, haue them still. O my knaue, how do's
my old Ladie?
Clo. So that you had her wrinkles, and I her money,
I would she did as you say
Par. Why I say nothing
Clo. Marry you are the wiser man: for many a mans tongue shakes out his masters vndoing: to say nothing, to do nothing, to know nothing, and to haue nothing, is to be a great part of your title, which is within a verie little of nothing
Par. Away, th'art a knaue
Clo. You should haue said sir before a knaue, th'art a knaue, that's before me th'art a knaue: this had beene truth sir
Par. Go too, thou art a wittie foole, I haue found thee
Clo. Did you finde me in your selfe sir, or were you taught to finde me? Clo. The search sir was profitable, and much Foole may you find in you, euen to the worlds pleasure, and the encrease of laughter
Par. A good knaue ifaith, and well fed.
Madam, my Lord will go awaie to night,
A verie serrious businesse call's on him:
The great prerogatiue and rite of loue,
Which as your due time claimes, he do's acknowledge,
But puts it off to a compell'd restraint:
Whose want, and whose delay, is strew'd with sweets
Which they distill now in the curbed time,
To make the comming houre oreflow with ioy,
And pleasure drowne the brim
Hel. What's his will else?
Par. That you will take your instant leaue a'th king,
And make this hast as your owne good proceeding,
Strengthned with what Apologie you thinke
May make it probable neede
Hel. What more commands hee?
Par. That hauing this obtain'd, you presentlie
Attend his further pleasure
Hel. In euery thing I waite vpon his will
Par. I shall report it so.
Exit Par.
Hell. I pray you come sirrah.
Exit
Enter Lafew and Bertram.
Laf. But I hope your Lordshippe thinkes not him a souldier
Ber. Yes my Lord and of verie valiant approofe
Laf. You haue it from his owne deliuerance
Ber. And by other warranted testimonie
Laf. Then my Diall goes not true, I tooke this Larke
for a bunting
Ber. I do assure you my Lord he is very great in knowledge,
and accordinglie valiant
Laf. I haue then sinn'd against his experience, and transgrest against his valour, and my state that way is dangerous, since I cannot yet find in my heart to repent: Heere he comes, I pray you make vs freinds, I will pursue the amitie. Enter Parolles.
Par. These things shall be done sir
Laf. Pray you sir whose his Tailor?
Par. Sir?
Laf. O I know him well, I sir, hee sirs a good workeman,
a verie good Tailor
Ber. Is shee gone to the king?
Par. Shee is
Ber. Will shee away to night?
Par. As you'le haue her
Ber. I haue writ my letters, casketted my treasure,
Giuen order for our horses, and to night,
When I should take possession of the Bride,
And ere I doe begin
Laf. A good Trauailer is something at the latter end of a dinner, but on that lies three thirds, and vses a known truth to passe a thousand nothings with, should bee once hard, and thrice beaten. God saue you Captaine
Ber. Is there any vnkindnes betweene my Lord and
you Monsieur?
Par. I know not how I haue deserued to run into my
Lords displeasure
Laf. You haue made shift to run into't, bootes and spurres and all: like him that leapt into the Custard, and out of it you'le runne againe, rather then suffer question for your residence
Ber. It may bee you haue mistaken him my Lord
Laf. And shall doe so euer, though I tooke him at's prayers. Fare you well my Lord, and beleeue this of me, there can be no kernell in this light Nut: the soule of this man is his cloathes: Trust him not in matter of heauie consequence: I haue kept of them tame, & know their natures. Farewell Monsieur, I haue spoken better of you, then you haue or will to deserue at my hand, but we must do good against euill
Par. An idle Lord, I sweare
Ber. I thinke so
Par. Why do you not know him?
Ber. Yes, I do know him well, and common speech
Giues him a worthy passe. Heere comes my clog.
Enter Helena.
Hel. I haue sir as I was commanded from you
Spoke with the King, and haue procur'd his leaue
For present parting, onely he desires
Some priuate speech with you
Ber. I shall obey his will.
You must not meruaile Helen at my course,
Which holds not colour with the time, nor does
The ministration, and required office
On my particular. Prepar'd I was not
For such a businesse, therefore am I found
So much vnsetled: This driues me to intreate you,
That presently you take your way for home,
And rather muse then aske why I intreate you,
For my respects are better then they seeme,
And my appointments haue in them a neede
Greater then shewes it selfe at the first view,
To you that know them not. This to my mother,
'Twill be two daies ere I shall see you, so
I leaue you to your wisedome
Hel. Sir, I can nothing say,
But that I am your most obedient seruant
Ber. Come, come, no more of that
Hel. And euer shall
With true obseruance seeke to eeke out that
Wherein toward me my homely starres haue faild
To equall my great fortune
Ber. Let that goe: my hast is verie great. Farwell:
Hie home
Hel. Pray sir your pardon
Ber. Well, what would you say?
Hel. I am not worthie of the wealth I owe,
Nor dare I say 'tis mine: and yet it is,
But like a timorous theefe, most faine would steale
What law does vouch mine owne
Ber. What would you haue?
Hel. Something, and scarse so much: nothing indeed,
I would not tell you what I would my Lord: Faith yes,
Strangers and foes do sunder, and not kisse
Ber. I pray you stay not, but in hast to horse
Hel. I shall not breake your bidding, good my Lord:
Where are my other men? Monsieur, farwell.
Exit
Ber. Go thou toward home, where I wil neuer come,
Whilst I can shake my sword, or heare the drumme:
Away, and for our flight
Par. Brauely, Coragio.
Actus Tertius.
Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, the two Frenchmen, with a
troope of
Souldiers.
Duke. So that from point to point, now haue you heard
The fundamentall reasons of this warre,
Whose great decision hath much blood let forth
And more thirsts after
1.Lord. Holy seemes the quarrell Vpon your Graces part: blacke and fearefull On the opposer
Duke. Therefore we meruaile much our Cosin France
Would in so iust a businesse, shut his bosome
Against our borrowing prayers
French E. Good my Lord,
The reasons of our state I cannot yeelde,
But like a common and an outward man,
That the great figure of a Counsaile frames,
By selfe vnable motion, therefore dare not
Say what I thinke of it, since I haue found
My selfe in my incertaine grounds to faile
As often as I guest
Duke. Be it his pleasure
Fren.G. But I am sure the yonger of our nature,
That surfet on their ease, will day by day
Come heere for Physicke
Duke. Welcome shall they bee:
And all the honors that can flye from vs,
Shall on them settle: you know your places well,
When better fall, for your auailes they fell,
To morrow to'th the field.
Flourish.
Enter Countesse and Clowne.
Count. It hath happen'd all, as I would haue had it, saue
that he comes not along with her
Clo. By my troth I take my young Lord to be a verie
melancholly man
Count. By what obseruance I pray you
Clo. Why he will looke vppon his boote, and sing: mend the Ruffe and sing, aske questions and sing, picke his teeth, and sing: I know a man that had this tricke of melancholy hold a goodly Mannor for a song
Lad. Let me see what he writes, and when he meanes to come
Clow. I haue no minde to Isbell since I was at Court. Our old Lings, and our Isbels a'th Country, are nothing like your old Ling and your Isbels a'th Court: the brains of my Cupid's knock'd out, and I beginne to loue, as an old man loues money, with no stomacke
Lad. What haue we heere?
Clo. In that you haue there.
Exit
A Letter.
I haue sent you a daughter-in-Law, shee hath recouered the King, and vndone me: I haue wedded her, not bedded her, and sworne to make the not eternall. You shall heare I am runne away, know it before the report come. If there bee bredth enough in the world, I will hold a long distance. My duty to you. Your vnfortunate sonne, Bertram. This is not well rash and vnbridled boy, To flye the fauours of so good a King, To plucke his indignation on thy head, By the misprising of a Maide too vertuous For the contempt of Empire. Enter Clowne.
Clow. O Madam, yonder is heauie newes within betweene two souldiers, and my yong Ladie
La. What is the matter
Clo. Nay there is some comfort in the newes, some comfort, your sonne will not be kild so soone as I thoght he would
La. Why should he be kill'd? Clo. So say I Madame, if he runne away, as I heare he does, the danger is in standing too't, that's the losse of men, though it be the getting of children. Heere they come will tell you more. For my part I onely heare your sonne was run away. Enter Hellen and two Gentlemen.
French E. Saue you good Madam
Hel. Madam, my Lord is gone, for euer gone
French G. Do not say so
La. Thinke vpon patience, pray you Gentlemen,
I haue felt so many quirkes of ioy and greefe,
That the first face of neither on the start
Can woman me vntoo't. Where is my sonne I pray you?
Fren.G. Madam he's gone to serue the Duke of Florence,
We met him thitherward, for thence we came:
And after some dispatch in hand at Court,
Thither we bend againe
Hel. Looke on his Letter Madam, here's my Pasport. When thou canst get the Ring vpon my finger, which neuer shall come off, and shew mee a childe begotten of thy bodie, that I am father too, then call me husband: but in such a (then) I write a Neuer. This is a dreadfull sentence
La. Brought you this Letter Gentlemen?
1.G. I Madam, and for the Contents sake are sorrie
for our paines
Old La. I prethee Ladie haue a better cheere,
If thou engrossest, all the greefes are thine,
Thou robst me of a moity: He was my sonne,
But I do wash his name out of my blood,
And thou art all my childe. Towards Florence is he?
Fren.G. I Madam
La. And to be a souldier
Fren.G. Such is his noble purpose, and beleeu't
The Duke will lay vpon him all the honor
That good conuenience claimes
La. Returne you thither
Fren.E. I Madam, with the swiftest wing of speed
Hel. Till I haue no wife, I haue nothing in France,
'Tis bitter
La. Finde you that there?
Hel. I Madame
Fren.E. 'Tis but the boldnesse of his hand haply, which
his heart was not consenting too
Lad. Nothing in France, vntill he haue no wife:
There's nothing heere that is too good for him
But onely she, and she deserues a Lord
That twenty such rude boyes might tend vpon,
And call her hourely Mistris. Who was with him?
Fren.E. A seruant onely, and a Gentleman: which I
haue sometime knowne
La. Parolles was it not?
Fren.E. I my good Ladie, hee
La. A verie tainted fellow, and full of wickednesse,
My sonne corrupts a well deriued nature
With his inducement
Fren.E. Indeed good Ladie the fellow has a deale of
that, too much, which holds him much to haue
La. Y'are welcome Gentlemen, I will intreate you when you see my sonne, to tell him that his sword can neuer winne the honor that he looses: more Ile intreate you written to beare along
Fren.G. We serue you Madam in that and all your
worthiest affaires
La. Not so, but as we change our courtesies,
Will you draw neere?
Enter.
Hel. Till I haue no wife I haue nothing in France.
Nothing in France vntill he has no wife:
Thou shalt haue none Rossillion, none in France,
Then hast thou all againe: poore Lord, is't I
That chase thee from thy Countrie, and expose
Those tender limbes of thine, to the euent
Of the none-sparing warre? And is it I,
That driue thee from the sportiue Court, where thou
Was't shot at with faire eyes, to be the marke
Of smoakie Muskets? O you leaden messengers,
That ride vpon the violent speede of fire,
Fly with false ayme, moue the still-peering aire
That sings with piercing, do not touch my Lord:
Who euer shoots at him, I set him there.
Who euer charges on his forward brest
I am the Caitiffe that do hold him too't,
And though I kill him not, I am the cause
His death was so effected: Better 'twere
I met the rauine Lyon when he roar'd
With sharpe constraint of hunger: better 'twere,
That all the miseries which nature owes
Were mine at once. No come thou home Rossillion,
Whence honor but of danger winnes a scarre,
As oft it looses all. I will be gone:
My being heere it is, that holds thee hence,
Shall I stay heere to doo't? No, no, although
The ayre of Paradise did fan the house,
And Angels offic'd all: I will be gone,
That pittifull rumour may report my flight
To consolate thine eare. Come night, end day,
For with the darke (poore theefe) Ile steale away.
Enter.
Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, Rossillion, drum and trumpets, soldiers, Parrolles.
Duke. The Generall of our horse thou art, and we
Great in our hope, lay our best loue and credence
Vpon thy promising fortune
Ber. Sir it is
A charge too heauy for my strength, but yet
Wee'l striue to beare it for your worthy sake,
To th' extreme edge of hazard
Duke. Then go thou forth,
And fortune play vpon thy prosperous helme
As thy auspicious mistris
Ber. This very day
Great Mars I put my selfe into thy file,
Make me but like my thoughts, and I shall proue
A louer of thy drumme, hater of loue.
Exeunt. omnes
Enter Countesse & Steward.
La. 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. Reade it agen.
Letter.
I am S[aint]. Iaques Pilgrim, thither gone:
Ambitious loue hath so in me offended,
That bare-foot plod I the cold ground vpon
With sainted vow my faults to haue amended
Write, write, that from the bloodie course of warre,
My deerest Master your deare sonne, may hie,
Blesse him at home in peace. Whilst I from farre,
His name with zealous feruour sanctifie:
His taken labours bid him me forgiue:
I his despightfull Iuno sent him forth,
From Courtly friends, with Camping foes to liue,
Where death and danger dogges the heeles of worth.
He is too good and faire for death, and mee,
Whom I my selfe embrace, to set him free.
Ah what sharpe stings are in her mildest words?
Rynaldo, you did neuer lacke aduice so much,
As letting her passe so: had I spoke with her,
I could haue well diuerted her intents,
Which thus she hath preuented
Ste. Pardon me Madam,
If I had giuen you this at ouer-night,
She might haue beene ore-tane: and yet she writes
Pursuite would be but vaine
La. What Angell shall
Blesse this vnworthy husband, he cannot thriue,
Vnlesse her prayers, whom heauen delights to heare
And loues to grant, repreeue him from the wrath
Of greatest Iustice. Write, write Rynaldo,
To this vnworthy husband of his wife,
Let euerie word waigh heauie of her worth,
That he does waigh too light: my greatest greefe,
Though little he do feele it, set downe sharpely.
Dispatch the most conuenient messenger,
When haply he shall heare that she is gone,
He will returne, and hope I may that shee
Hearing so much, will speede her foote againe,
Led hither by pure loue: which of them both
Is deerest to me, I haue no skill in sence
To make distinction: prouide this Messenger:
My heart is heauie, and mine age is weake,
Greefe would haue teares, and sorrow bids me speake.
Exeunt.
A Tucket afarre off.
Enter old Widdow of Florence, her daughter Violenta and Mariana, with other Citizens.
Widdow. Nay come,
For if they do approach the Citty,
We shall loose all the sight
Diana. They say, the French Count has done
Most honourable seruice
Wid. It is reported,
That he has taken their great'st Commander,
And that with his owne hand he slew
The Dukes brother: we haue lost our labour,
They are gone a contrarie way: harke,
you may know by their Trumpets
Maria. Come lets returne againe,
And suffice our selues with the report of it.
Well Diana, take heed of this French Earle,
The honor of a Maide is her name,
And no Legacie is so rich
As honestie
Widdow. I haue told my neighbour
How you haue beene solicited by a Gentleman
His Companion
Maria. I know that knaue, hang him, one Parolles, a filthy Officer he is in those suggestions for the young Earle, beware of them Diana; their promises, entisements, oathes, tokens, and all these engines of lust, are not the things they go vnder: many a maide hath beene seduced by them, and the miserie is example, that so terrible shewes in the wracke of maiden-hood, cannot for all that disswade succession, but that they are limed with the twigges that threatens them. I hope I neede not to aduise you further, but I hope your owne grace will keepe you where you are, though there were no further danger knowne, but the modestie which is so lost
Dia. You shall not neede to feare me.
Enter Hellen.
Wid. I hope so: looke here comes a pilgrim, I know
she will lye at my house, thither they send one another,
Ile question her. God saue you pilgrim, whether are
bound?
Hel. To S[aint]. Iaques la grand.
Where do the Palmers lodge, I do beseech you?
Wid. At the S[aint]. Francis heere beside the Port
Hel. Is this the way?
A march afarre.
Wid. I marrie ist. Harke you, they come this way:
If you will tarrie holy Pilgrime
But till the troopes come by,
I will conduct you where you shall be lodg'd,
The rather for I thinke I know your hostesse
As ample as my selfe
Hel. Is it your selfe?
Wid. If you shall please so Pilgrime
Hel. I thanke you, and will stay vpon your leisure
Wid. You came I thinke from France?
Hel. I did so
Wid. Heere you shall see a Countriman of yours
That has done worthy seruice
Hel. His name I pray you?
Dia. The Count Rossillion: know you such a one?
Hel. But by the eare that heares most nobly of him:
His face I know not
Dia. What somere he is
He's brauely taken heere. He stole from France
As 'tis reported: for the King had married him
Against his liking. Thinke you it is so?
Hel. I surely meere the truth, I know his Lady
Dia. There is a Gentleman that serues the Count,
Reports but coursely of her
Hel. What's his name?
Dia. Monsieur Parrolles
Hel. Oh I beleeue with him,
In argument of praise, or to the worth
Of the great Count himselfe, she is too meane
To haue her name repeated, all her deseruing
Is a reserued honestie, and that
I haue not heard examin'd
Dian. Alas poore Ladie,
'Tis a hard bondage to become the wife
Of a detesting Lord
Wid. I write good creature, wheresoere she is,
Her hart waighes sadly: this yong maid might do her
A shrewd turne if she pleas'd
Hel. How do you meane?
May be the amorous Count solicites her
In the vnlawfull purpose
Wid. He does indeede,
And brokes with all that can in such a suite
Corrupt the tender honour of a Maide:
But she is arm'd for him, and keepes her guard
In honestest defence.
Drumme and Colours. Enter Count Rossillion, Parrolles, and the
whole
Armie.
Mar. The goddes forbid else
Wid. So, now they come:
That is Anthonio the Dukes eldest sonne,
That Escalus
Hel. Which is the Frenchman?
Dia. Hee,
That with the plume, 'tis a most gallant fellow,
I would he lou'd his wife: if he were honester
He were much goodlier. Is't not a handsom Gentleman
Hel. I like him well
Di. 'Tis pitty he is not honest: yonds that same knaue
That leades him to these places: were I his Ladie,
I would poison that vile Rascall
Hel. Which is he?
Dia. That Iacke-an-apes with scarfes. Why is hee
melancholly?
Hel. Perchance he's hurt i'th battaile
Par. Loose our drum? Well
Mar. He's shrewdly vext at something. Looke he has spyed vs
Wid. Marrie hang you
Mar. And your curtesie, for a ring-carrier.
Enter.
Wid. The troope is past: Come pilgrim, I wil bring
you, Where you shall host: Of inioyn'd penitents
There's foure or fiue, to great S[aint]. Iaques bound,
Alreadie at my house
Hel. I humbly thanke you:
Please it this Matron, and this gentle Maide
To eate with vs 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. Wee'l take your offer kindly.
Exeunt.
Enter Count Rossillion and the Frenchmen, as at first.
Cap.E. Nay good my Lord put him too't: let him
haue his way
Cap.G. If your Lordshippe finde him not a Hilding,
hold me no more in your respect
Cap.E. On my life my Lord, a bubble
Ber. Do you thinke I am so farre
Deceiued in him
Cap.E. Beleeue it my Lord, in mine owne direct knowledge, without any malice, but to speake of him as my kinsman, hee's a most notable Coward, an infinite and endlesse Lyar, an hourely promise-breaker, the owner of no one good qualitie, worthy your Lordships entertainment
Cap.G. It were fit you knew him, least reposing too farre in his vertue which he hath not, he might at some great and trustie businesse, in a maine daunger, fayle you
Ber. I would I knew in what particular action to try him
Cap.G. None better then to let him fetch off his drumme, which you heare him so confidently vndertake to do
C.E. I with a troop of Florentines wil sodainly surprize him; such I will haue whom I am sure he knowes not from the enemie: wee will binde and hoodwinke him so, that he shall suppose no other but that he is carried into the Leager of the aduersaries, when we bring him to our owne 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 feare, offer to betray you, and deliuer all the intelligence in his power against you, and that with the diuine forfeite of his soule vpon oath, neuer trust my iudgement in anie thing
Cap.G. O for the loue of laughter, let him fetch his drumme, he sayes he has a stratagem for't: when your Lordship sees the bottome of this successe in't, and to what mettle this counterfeyt lump of ours will be melted if you giue him not Iohn drummes entertainement, your inclining cannot be remoued. Heere he comes. Enter Parrolles.
Cap.E. O for the loue of laughter hinder not the honor of his designe, let him fetch off his drumme in any hand
Ber. How now Monsieur? This drumme sticks sorely in your disposition
Cap.G. A pox on't, let it go, 'tis but a drumme
Par. But a drumme: Ist but a drumme? A drum so lost. There was excellent command, to charge in with our horse vpon our owne wings, and to rend our owne souldiers
Cap.G. That was not to be blam'd in the command of the seruice: it was a disaster of warre that Cæsar him selfe could not haue preuented, if he had beene there to command
Ber. Well, wee cannot greatly condemne our successe: some dishonor wee had in the losse of that drum, but it is not to be recouered
Par. It might haue beene recouered
Ber. It might, but it is not now
Par. It is to be recouered, but that the merit of seruice is sildome attributed to the true and exact performer, I would haue that drumme or another, or hic iacet
Ber. Why if you haue a stomacke, too't Monsieur: if you thinke your mysterie in stratagem, can bring this instrument of honour againe into his natiue quarter, be magnanimious in the enterprize and go on, I wil grace the attempt for a worthy exploit: if you speede well in it, the Duke shall both speake of it, and extend to you what further becomes his greatnesse, euen to the vtmost syllable of your worthinesse
Par. By the hand of a souldier I will vndertake it
Ber. But you must not now slumber in it
Par. Ile about it this euening, and I will presently pen downe my dilemma's, encourage my selfe in my certaintie, put my selfe into my mortall preparation: and by midnight looke to heare further from me
Ber. May I bee bold to acquaint his grace you are
gone about it
Par. I know not what the successe wil be my Lord,
but the attempt I vow
Ber. I know th'art valiant,
And to the possibility of thy souldiership,
Will subscribe for thee: Farewell
Par. I loue not many words.
Exit
Cap.E. No more then a fish loues water. Is not this a strange fellow my Lord, that so confidently seemes to vndertake this businesse, which he knowes is not to be done, damnes himselfe to do, & dares better be damnd then to doo't
Cap.G. You do not know him my Lord as we doe, certaine it is that he will steale himselfe into a mans fauour, and for a weeke escape a great deale of discoueries, but when you finde him out, you haue him euer after
Ber. Why do you thinke he will make no deede at all of this that so seriouslie hee dooes addresse himselfe vnto? Cap.E. None in the world, but returne with an inuention, and clap vpon you two or three probable lies: but we haue almost imbost him, you shall see his fall to night; for indeede he is not for your Lordshippes respect
Cap.G. Weele make you some sport with the Foxe ere we case him. He was first smoak'd by the old Lord Lafew, when his disguise and he is parted, tell me what a sprat you shall finde him, which you shall see this verie night
Cap.E. I must go looke my twigges,
He shall be caught
Ber. Your brother he shall go along with me
Cap.G. As't please your Lordship, Ile leaue you
Ber. Now wil I lead you to the house, and shew you
The Lasse I spoke of
Cap.E. But you say she's honest
Ber. That's all the fault: I spoke with hir but once,
And found her wondrous cold, but I sent to her
By this same Coxcombe that we haue i'th winde
Tokens and Letters, which she did resend,
And this is all I haue done: She's a faire creature,
Will you go see her?
Cap.E. With all my heart my Lord.
Exeunt.
Enter Hellen, and Widdow.
Hel. If you misdoubt me that I am not shee,
I know not how I shall assure you further,
But I shall loose the grounds I worke vpon
Wid. Though my estate be falne, I was well borne,
Nothing acquainted with these businesses,
And would not put my reputation now
In any staining act
Hel. Nor would I wish you.
First giue me trust, the Count he is my husband,
And what to your sworne counsaile I haue spoken,
Is so from word to word: and then you cannot
By the good ayde that I of you shall borrow,
Erre in bestowing it
Wid. I should beleeue you,
For you haue shew'd me that which well approues
Y'are great in fortune
Hel. Take this purse of Gold,
And let me buy your friendly helpe thus farre,
Which I will ouer-pay, and pay againe
When I haue found it. The Count he woes your
daughter,
Layes downe his wanton siedge before her beautie,
Resolue to carrie her: let her in fine consent
As wee'l direct her how 'tis best to beare it:
Now his important blood will naught denie,
That shee'l demand: a ring the Countie weares,
That downward hath succeeded in his house
From sonne to sonne, some foure or fiue discents,
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 seeme too deere,
How ere repented after
Wid. Now I see the bottome of your purpose
Hel. You see it lawfull then, it is no more,
But that your daughter ere she seemes as wonne,
Desires this Ring; appoints him an encounter;
In fine, deliuers me to fill the time,
Her selfe most chastly absent: after
To marry her, Ile adde three thousand Crownes
To what is past already
Wid. I haue yeelded:
Instruct my daughter how she shall perseuer,
That time and place with this deceite so lawfull
May proue coherent. Euery night he comes
With Musickes of all sorts, and songs compos'd
To her vnworthinesse: It nothing steeds vs
To chide him from our eeues, for he persists
As if his life lay on't
Hel. Why then to night
Let vs assay our plot, which if it speed,
Is wicked meaning in a lawfull deede;
And lawfull meaning in a lawfull act,
Where both not sinne, and yet a sinfull fact.
But let's about it.
Actus Quartus.
Enter one of the Frenchmen, with fiue or sixe other souldiers in ambush.
Lord E. He can come no other way but by this hedge corner: when you sallie vpon him, speake what terrible Language you will: though you vnderstand it not your selues, no matter: for we must not seeme to vnderstand him, vnlesse some one among vs, whom wee must produce for an Interpreter
1.Sol. Good Captaine, let me be th' Interpreter
Lor.E. Art not acquainted with him? knowes he not
thy voice?
1.Sol. No sir I warrant you
Lo.E. But what linsie wolsy hast thou to speake to vs
againe
1.Sol. E'n such as you speake to me
Lo.E. He must thinke vs some band of strangers, i'th aduersaries entertainment. Now he hath a smacke of all neighbouring Languages: therefore we must euery one be a man of his owne fancie, not to know what we speak one to another: so we seeme to know, is to know straight our purpose: Choughs language, gabble enough, and good enough. As for you interpreter, you must seeme very politicke. But couch hoa, heere hee comes, to beguile two houres in a sleepe, and then to returne & swear the lies he forges. Enter Parrolles.
Par. Ten a clocke: Within these three houres 'twill be time enough to goe home. What shall I say I haue done? It must bee a very plausiue inuention that carries it. They beginne to smoake mee, and disgraces haue of late, knock'd too often at my doore: I finde my tongue is too foole-hardie, but my heart hath the feare of Mars before it, and of his creatures, not daring the reports of my tongue
Lo.E. This is the first truth that ere thine own tongue was guiltie of
Par. What the diuell should moue mee to vndertake the recouerie of this drumme, being not ignorant of the impossibility, and knowing I had no such purpose? I must giue my selfe some hurts, and say I got them in exploit: yet slight ones will not carrie it. They will say, came you off with so little? And great ones I dare not giue, wherefore what's the instance. Tongue, I must put you into a Butter-womans mouth, and buy my selfe another of Baiazeths Mule, if you prattle mee into these perilles
Lo.E. Is it possible he should know what hee is, and
be that he is
Par. I would the cutting of my garments wold serue
the turne, or the breaking of my Spanish sword
Lo.E. We cannot affoord you so
Par. Or the baring of my beard, and to say it was in stratagem
Lo.E. 'Twould not do
Par. Or to drowne my cloathes, and say I was stript
Lo.E. Hardly serue
Par. Though I swore I leapt from the window of the
Citadell
Lo.E. How deepe?
Par. Thirty fadome
Lo.E. Three great oathes would scarse make that be
beleeued
Par. I would I had any drumme of the enemies, I
would sweare I recouer'd it
Lo.E. You shall heare one anon
Par. A drumme now of the enemies.
Alarum within.
Lo.E. Throca movousus, cargo, cargo, cargo
All. Cargo, cargo, cargo, villianda par corbo, cargo
Par. O ransome, ransome,
Do not hide mine eyes
Inter. Boskos thromuldo boskos
Par. I know you are the Muskos Regiment,
And I shall loose my life for want of language.
If there be heere German or Dane, Low Dutch,
Italian, or French, let him speake to me,
Ile discouer that, which shal vndo the Florentine
Int. Boskos vauvado, I vnderstand thee, & can speake thy tongue: Kerelybonto sir, betake thee to thy faith, for seuenteene ponyards are at thy bosome
Par. Oh
Inter. Oh pray, pray, pray,
Manka reuania dulche
Lo.E. Oscorbidulchos voliuorco
Int. The Generall is content to spare thee yet,
And hoodwinkt as thou art, will leade thee on
To gather from thee. Haply thou mayst informe
Something to saue thy life
Par. O let me liue,
And all the secrets of our campe Ile shew,
Their force, their purposes: Nay, Ile speake that,
Which you will wonder at
Inter. But wilt thou faithfully?
Par. If I do not, damne me
Inter. Acordo linta.
Come on, thou are granted space.
Exit
A short Alarum within.
L.E. Go tell the Count Rossillion and my brother,
We haue caught the woodcocke, and will keepe him mufled
Till we do heare from them
Sol. Captaine I will
L.E. A will betray vs all vnto our selues,
Informe on that
Sol. So I will sir
L.E. Till then Ile keepe him darke and safely lockt.
Exit
Enter Bertram, and the Maide called Diana.
Ber. They told me that your name was Fontybell
Dia. No my good Lord, Diana
Ber. Titled Goddesse,
And worth it with addition: but faire soule,
In your fine frame hath loue no qualitie?
If the quicke fire of youth light not your minde,
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 sterne,
And now you should be as your mother was
When your sweet selfe was got
Dia. She then was honest
Ber. So should you be
Dia. No:
My mother did but dutie, such (my Lord)
As you owe to your wife
Ber. No more a'that:
I prethee do not striue against my vowes:
I was compell'd to her, but I loue thee
By loues owne sweet constraint, and will for euer
Do thee all rights of seruice
Dia. I so you serue vs
Till we serue you: But when you haue our Roses,
You barely leaue our thornes to pricke our selues,
And mocke vs with our barenesse
Ber. How haue I sworne
Dia. Tis not the many oathes that makes the truth,
But the plaine single vow, that is vow'd true:
What is not holie, that we sweare not by,
But take the high'st to witnesse: then pray you tell me,
If I should sweare by Ioues great attributes,
I lou'd you deerely, would you beleeue my oathes,
When I did loue you ill? This ha's no holding
To sweare by him whom I protest to loue
That I will worke against him. Therefore your oathes
Are words and poore conditions, but vnseal'd
At lest in my opinion
Ber. Change it, change it:
Be not so holy cruell: Loue is holie,
And my integritie ne're knew the crafts
That you do charge men with: Stand no more off,
But giue thy selfe vnto my sicke desires,
Who then recouers. Say thou art mine, and euer
My loue as it beginnes, shall so perseuer
Dia. I see that men make rope's in such a scarre,
That wee'l forsake our selues. Giue me that Ring
Ber. Ile lend it thee my deere; but haue no power
To giue it from me
Dia. Will you not my Lord?
Ber. It is an honour longing to our house,
Bequeathed downe from manie Ancestors,
Which were the greatest obloquie i'th world,
In me to loose
Dian. Mine Honors such a Ring,
My chastities the Iewell of our house,
Bequeathed downe from many Ancestors,
Which were the greatest obloquie i'th world,
In mee to loose. Thus your owne proper wisedome
Brings in the Champion honor on my part,
Against your vaine assault
Ber. Heere, take my Ring,
My house, mine honor, yea my life be thine,
And Ile be bid by thee
Dia. When midnight comes, knocke at my chamber
window:
Ile order take, my mother shall not heare.
Now will I charge you in the band of truth,
When you haue conquer'd my yet maiden-bed,
Remaine there but an houre, nor speake to mee:
My reasons are most strong, and you shall know them,
When backe againe this Ring shall be deliuer'd:
And on your finger in the night, Ile put
Another Ring, that what in time proceeds,
May token to the future, our past deeds.
Adieu till then, then faile not: you haue wonne
A wife of me, though there my hope be done
Ber. A heauen on earth I haue won by wooing thee
Di. For which, liue long to thank both heauen & me,
You may so in the end.
My mother told me iust how he would woo,
As if she sate in's heart. She sayes, all men
Haue the like oathes: He had sworne to marrie me
When his wife's dead: therfore Ile lye with him
When I am buried. Since Frenchmen are so braide,
Marry that will, I liue and die a Maid:
Onely in this disguise, I think't no sinne,
To cosen him that would vniustly winne.
Exit
Enter the two French Captaines, and some two or three Souldiours.
Cap.G. You haue not giuen him his mothers letter
Cap.E. I haue deliu'red it an houre since, there is som thing in't that stings his nature: for on the reading it, he chang'd almost into another man
Cap.G. He has much worthy blame laid vpon him, for shaking off so good a wife, and so sweet a Lady
Cap.E. Especially, hee hath incurred the euerlasting displeasure of the King, who had euen tun'd his bounty to sing happinesse to him. I will tell you a thing, but you shall let it dwell darkly with you
Cap.G. When you haue spoken it 'tis dead, and I am the graue of it
Cap.E. Hee hath peruerted a young Gentlewoman heere in Florence, of a most chaste renown, & this night he fleshes his will in the spoyle of her honour: hee hath giuen her his monumentall Ring, and thinkes himselfe made in the vnchaste composition
Cap.G. Now God delay our rebellion as we are our selues, what things are we
Cap.E. Meerely our owne traitours. And as in the common course of all treasons, we still see them reueale themselues, till they attaine to their abhorr'd ends: so he that in this action contriues against his owne Nobility in his proper streame, ore-flowes himselfe
Cap.G. Is it not meant damnable in vs, to be Trumpeters of our vnlawfull intents? We shall not then haue his company to night? Cap.E. Not till after midnight: for hee is dieted to his houre
Cap.G. That approaches apace: I would gladly haue him see his company anathomiz'd, that hee might take a measure of his owne iudgements, wherein so curiously he had set this counterfeit
Cap.E. We will not meddle with him till he come;
for his presence must be the whip of the other
Cap.G. In the meane time, what heare you of these
Warres?
Cap.E. I heare there is an ouerture of peace
Cap.G. Nay, I assure you a peace concluded
Cap.E. What will Count Rossillion do then? Will he
trauaile higher, or returne againe into France?
Cap.G. I perceiue by this demand, you are not altogether
of his councell
Cap.E. Let it be forbid sir, so should I bee a great
deale of his act
Cap.G. Sir, his wife some two months since fledde from his house, her pretence is a pilgrimage to Saint Iaques le grand; which holy vndertaking, with most austere sanctimonie she accomplisht: and there residing, the tendernesse of her Nature, became as a prey to her greefe: in fine, made a groane of her last breath, & now she sings in heauen
Cap.E. How is this iustified? Cap.G. The stronger part of it by her owne Letters, which makes her storie true, euen to the poynt of her death: her death it selfe, which could not be her office to say, is come: was faithfully confirm'd by the Rector of the place
Cap.E. Hath the Count all this intelligence?
Cap.G. I, and the particular confirmations, point
from point, to the full arming of the veritie
Cap.E. I am heartily sorrie that hee'l bee gladde of
this
Cap.G. How mightily sometimes, we make vs comforts
of our losses
Cap.E. And how mightily some other times, wee drowne our gaine in teares, the great dignitie that his valour hath here acquir'd for him, shall at home be encountred with a shame as ample
Cap.G. The webbe of our life, is of a mingled yarne, good and ill together: our vertues would bee proud, if our faults whipt them not, and our crimes would dispaire if they were not cherish'd by our vertues. Enter a Messenger.
How now? Where's your master? Ser. He met the Duke in the street sir, of whom hee hath taken a solemne leaue: his Lordshippe will next morning for France. The Duke hath offered him Letters of commendations to the King
Cap.E. They shall bee no more then needfull there, if they were more then they can commend. Enter Count Rossillion.
Ber. They cannot be too sweete for the Kings tartnesse, heere's his Lordship now. How now my Lord, i'st not after midnight? Ber. I haue to night dispatch'd sixteene businesses, a moneths length a peece, by an abstract of successe: I haue congied with the Duke, done my adieu with his neerest; buried a wife, mourn'd for her, writ to my Ladie mother, I am returning, entertain'd my Conuoy, & betweene these maine parcels of dispatch, affected many nicer needs: the last was the greatest, but that I haue not ended yet
Cap.E. If the businesse bee of any difficulty, and this morning your departure hence, it requires hast of your Lordship
Ber. I meane the businesse is not ended, as fearing to heare of it hereafter: but shall we haue this dialogue betweene the Foole and the Soldiour. Come, bring forth this counterfet module, ha's deceiu'd mee, like a double-meaning Prophesier
Cap.E. Bring him forth, ha's sate i'th stockes all night poore gallant knaue
Ber. No matter, his heeles haue deseru'd it, in vsurping his spurres so long. How does he carry himselfe? Cap.E. I haue told your Lordship alreadie: The stockes carrie him. But to answer you as you would be vnderstood, hee weepes like a wench that had shed her milke, he hath confest himselfe to Morgan, whom hee supposes to be a Friar, fro[m] the time of his remembrance to this very instant disaster of his setting i'th stockes: and what thinke you he hath confest? Ber. Nothing of me, ha's a? Cap.E. His confession is taken, and it shall bee read to his face, if your Lordshippe be in't, as I beleeue you are, you must haue the patience to heare it. Enter Parolles with his Interpreter.
Ber. A plague vpon him, muffeld; he can say nothing of me: hush, hush
Cap.G. Hoodman comes: Portotartarossa
Inter. He calles for the tortures, what will you say
without em
Par. I will confesse what I know without constraint,
If ye pinch me like a Pasty, I can say no more
Int. Bosko Chimurcho
Cap. Boblibindo chicurmurco
Int. You are a mercifull Generall: Our Generall bids you answer to what I shall aske you out of a Note
Par. And truly, as I hope to liue
Int. First demand of him, how many horse the Duke is strong. What say you to that? Par. Fiue or sixe thousand, but very weake and vnseruiceable: the troopes are all scattered, and the Commanders verie poore rogues, vpon my reputation and credit, and as I hope to liue
Int. Shall I set downe your answer so?
Par. Do, Ile take the Sacrament on't, how & which
way you will: all's one to him
Ber. What a past-sauing slaue is this? Cap.G. Y'are deceiu'd my Lord, this is Mounsieur Parrolles the gallant militarist, that was his owne phrase that had the whole theoricke of warre in the knot of his scarfe, and the practise in the chape of his dagger
Cap.E. I will neuer trust a man againe, for keeping his sword cleane, nor beleeue he can haue euerie thing in him, by wearing his apparrell neatly
Int. Well, that's set downe
Par. Fiue or six thousand horse I sed, I will say true, or thereabouts set downe, for Ile speake truth
Cap.G. He's very neere the truth in this
Ber. But I con him no thankes for't in the nature he deliuers it
Par. Poore rogues, I pray you say
Int. Well, that's set downe
Par. I humbly thanke you sir, a truth's a truth, the
Rogues are maruailous poore
Interp. Demaund of him of what strength they are a foot. What say you to that? Par. By my troth sir, if I were to liue this present houre, I will tell true. Let me see, Spurio a hundred & fiftie, Sebastian so many, Corambus so many, Iaques so many: Guiltian, Cosmo, Lodowicke, and Gratij, two hundred fiftie each: Mine owne Company, Chitopher, Vaumond, Bentij, two hundred fiftie each: so that the muster file, rotten and sound, vppon my life amounts not to fifteene thousand pole, halfe of the which, dare not shake the snow from off their Cassockes, least they shake themselues to peeces
Ber. What shall be done to him?
Cap.G. Nothing, but let him haue thankes. Demand
of him my condition: and what credite I haue with the
Duke
Int. Well that's set downe: you shall demaund of him, whether one Captaine Dumaine bee i'th Campe, a Frenchman: what his reputation is with the Duke, what his valour, honestie, and expertnesse in warres: or whether he thinkes it were not possible with well-waighing summes of gold to corrupt him to a reuolt. What say you to this? What do you know of it? Par. I beseech you let me answer to the particular of the intergatories. Demand them singly
Int. Do you know this Captaine Dumaine? Par. I know him, a was a Botchers Prentize in Paris, from whence he was whipt for getting the Shrieues fool with childe, a dumbe innocent that could not say him nay
Ber. Nay, by your leaue hold your hands, though I
know his braines are forfeite to the next tile that fals
Int. Well, is this Captaine in the Duke of Florences
campe?
Par. Vpon my knowledge he is, and lowsie
Cap.G. Nay looke not so vpon me: we shall heare of
your Lord anon
Int. What is his reputation with the Duke?
Par. The Duke knowes him for no other, but a poore
Officer of mine, and writ to mee this other day, to turne
him out a'th band. I thinke I haue his Letter in my pocket
Int. Marry we'll search
Par. In good sadnesse I do not know, either it is there, or it is vpon a file with the Dukes other Letters, in my Tent
Int. Heere 'tis, heere's a paper, shall I reade it to you?
Par. I do not know if it be it or no
Ber. Our Interpreter do's it well
Cap.G. Excellently
Int. Dian, the Counts a foole, and full of gold
Par. That is not the Dukes letter sir: that is an aduertisement to a proper maide in Florence, one Diana, to take heede of the allurement of one Count Rossillion, a foolish idle boy: but for all that very ruttish. I pray you sir put it vp againe
Int. Nay, Ile reade it first by your fauour
Par. My meaning in't I protest was very honest in the behalfe of the maid: for I knew the young Count to be a dangerous and lasciuious boy, who is a whale to Virginity, and deuours vp all the fry it finds
Ber. Damnable both-sides rogue
Int.
Let.
When he sweares oathes, bid him drop gold, and
take it:
After he scores, he neuer payes the score:
Halfe won is match well made, match and well make it,
He nere payes after-debts, take it before,
And say a souldier (Dian) told thee this:
Men are to mell with, boyes are not to kis.
For count of this, the Counts a Foole I know it,
Who payes before, but not when he does owe it.
Thine as he vow'd to thee in thine eare,
Parolles
Ber. He shall be whipt through the Armie with this
rime in's forehead
Cap.E. This is your deuoted friend sir, the manifold
Linguist, and the army-potent souldier
Ber. I could endure any thing before but a Cat, and
now he's a Cat to me
Int. I perceiue sir by your Generals lookes, wee shall
be faine to hang you
Par. My life sir in any case: Not that I am afraide to dye, but that my offences beeing many, I would repent out the remainder of Nature. Let me liue sir in a dungeon, i'th stockes, or any where, so I may liue
Int. Wee'le see what may bee done, so you confesse freely: therefore once more to this Captaine Dumaine: you haue answer'd to his reputation with the Duke, and to his valour. What is his honestie? Par. He will steale sir an Egge out of a Cloister: for rapes and rauishments he paralels Nessus. Hee professes not keeping of oaths, in breaking em he is stronger then Hercules. He will lye sir, with such volubilitie, that you would thinke truth were a foole: drunkennesse is his best vertue, for he will be swine-drunke, and in his sleepe he does little harme, saue to his bed-cloathes about him: but they know his conditions, and lay him in straw. I haue but little more to say sir of his honesty, he ha's euerie thing that an honest man should not haue; what an honest man should haue, he has nothing
Cap.G. I begin to loue him for this
Ber. For this description of thine honestie? A pox vpon him for me, he's more and more a Cat
Int. What say you to his expertnesse in warre? Par. Faith sir, ha's led the drumme before the English Tragedians: to belye him I will not, and more of his souldiership 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 doe the man what honour I can, but of this I am not certaine
Cap.G. He hath out-villain'd villanie so farre, that the raritie redeemes him
Ber. A pox on him, he's a Cat still
Int. His qualities being at this poore price, I neede not to aske you, if Gold will corrupt him to reuolt
Par. Sir, for a Cardceue he will sell the fee-simple of his saluation, the inheritance of it, and cut th' intaile from all remainders, and a perpetuall succession for it perpetually
Int. What's his Brother, the other Captain Dumain? Cap.E. Why do's he aske him of me? Int. What's he? Par. E'ne a Crow a'th same nest: not altogether so great as the first in goodnesse, but greater a great deale in euill. He excels his Brother for a coward, yet his Brother is reputed one of the best that is. In a retreate hee outrunnes any Lackey; marrie in comming on, hee ha's the Crampe
Int. If your life be saued, will you vndertake to betray the Florentine
Par. I, and the Captaine of his horse, Count Rossillion
Int. Ile whisper with the Generall, and knowe his pleasure
Par. Ile no more drumming, a plague of all drummes, onely to seeme to deserue well, and to beguile the supposition of that lasciuious yong boy the Count, haue I run into this danger: yet who would haue suspected an ambush where I was taken? Int. There is no remedy sir, but you must dye: the Generall sayes, you that haue so traitorously discouerd the secrets of your army, and made such pestifferous reports of men very nobly held, can serue the world for no honest vse: therefore you must dye. Come headesman, off with his head
Par. O Lord sir let me liue, or let me see my death
Int. That shall you, and take your leaue of all your
friends:
So, looke about you, know you any heere?
Count. Good morrow noble Captaine
Lo.E. God blesse you Captaine Parolles
Cap.G. God saue you noble Captaine
Lo.E. Captain, what greeting will you to my Lord
Lafew? I am for France
Cap.G. Good Captaine will you giue me a Copy of the sonnet you writ to Diana in behalfe of the Count Rossillion, and I were not a verie Coward, I'de compell it of you, but far you well.
Exeunt.
Int. You are vndone Captaine all but your scarfe, that has a knot on't yet
Par. Who cannot be crush'd with a plot? Inter. If you could finde out a Countrie where but women were that had receiued so much shame, you might begin an impudent Nation. Fare yee well sir, I am for France too, we shall speake of you there.
Exit
Par. Yet am I thankfull: if my heart were great
'Twould burst at this: Captaine Ile be no more,
But I will eate, and drinke, and sleepe as soft
As Captaine shall. Simply the thing I am
Shall make me liue: who knowes himselfe a braggart
Let him feare this; for it will come to passe,
That euery braggart shall be found an Asse.
Rust sword, coole blushes, and Parrolles liue
Safest in shame: being fool'd, by fool'rie thriue;
There's place and meanes for euery man aliue.
Ile after them.
Enter.
Enter Hellen, Widdow, and Diana.
Hel. That you may well perceiue I haue not
wrong'd you,
One of the greatest in the Christian world
Shall be my suretie: for whose throne 'tis needfull
Ere I can perfect mine intents, to kneele.
Time was, I did him a desired office
Deere almost as his life, which gratitude
Through flintie Tartars bosome would peepe forth,
And answer thankes. I duly am inform'd,
His grace is at Marcellae, to which place
We haue conuenient conuoy: you must know
I am supposed dead, the Army breaking,
My husband hies him home, where heauen ayding,
And by the leaue of my good Lord the King,
Wee'l be before our welcome
Wid. Gentle Madam,
You neuer had a seruant to whose trust
Your busines was more welcome
Hel. Nor your Mistris
Euer a friend, whose thoughts more truly labour
To recompence your loue: Doubt not but heauen
Hath brought me vp to be your daughters dower,
As it hath fated her to be my motiue
And helper to a husband. But O strange men,
That can such sweet vse make of what they hate,
When sawcie trusting of the cosin'd thoughts
Defiles the pitchy night, so lust doth play
With what it loathes, for that which is away,
But more of this heereafter: you Diana,
Vnder my poore instructions yet must suffer
Something in my behalfe
Dia. Let death and honestie
Go with your impositions, I am yours
Vpon your will to suffer
Hel. Yet I pray you:
But with the word the time will bring on summer,
When Briars shall haue leaues as well as thornes,
And be as sweet as sharpe: we must away,
Our Wagon is prepar'd, and time reuiues vs,
All's well that ends well, still the fines the Crowne;
What ere the course, the end is the renowne.
Exeunt.
Enter Clowne, old Lady, and Lafew.
Laf. No, no, no, your sonne was misled with a snipt taffata fellow there, whose villanous saffron wold haue made all the vnbak'd and dowy youth of a nation in his colour: your daughter-in-law had beene aliue at this houre, and your sonne heere at home, more aduanc'd by the King, then by that red-tail'd humble Bee I speak of
La. I would I had not knowne him, it was the death of the most vertuous gentlewoman, that euer Nature had praise for creating. If she had pertaken of my flesh and cost mee the deerest groanes of a mother, I could not haue owed her a more rooted loue
Laf. Twas a good Lady, 'twas a good Lady. Wee may picke a thousand sallets ere wee light on such another hearbe
Clo. Indeed sir she was the sweete Margerom of the sallet, or rather the hearbe of grace
Laf. They are not hearbes you knaue, they are nose-hearbes
Clowne. I am no great Nabuchadnezar sir, I haue not
much skill in grace
Laf. Whether doest thou professe thy selfe, a knaue
or a foole?
Clo. A foole sir at a womans seruice, and a knaue at a
mans
Laf. Your distinction
Clo. I would cousen the man of his wife, and do his seruice
Laf. So you were a knaue at his seruice indeed
Clo. And I would giue his wife my bauble sir to doe
her seruice
Laf. I will subscribe for thee, thou art both knaue
and foole
Clo. At your seruice
Laf. No, no, no
Clo. Why sir, if I cannot serue you, I can serue as
great a prince as you are
Laf. Whose that, a Frenchman?
Clo. Faith sir a has an English maine, but his fisnomie
is more hotter in France then there
Laf. What prince is that?
Clo. The blacke prince sir, alias the prince of darkenesse,
alias the diuell
Laf. Hold thee there's my purse, I giue thee not this to suggest thee from thy master thou talk'st off, serue him still
Clo. I am a woodland fellow sir, that alwaies loued a great fire, and the master I speak of euer keeps a good fire, but sure he is the Prince of the world, let his Nobilitie remaine in's Court. I am for the house with the narrow gate, which I take to be too little for pompe to enter: some that humble themselues may, but the manie will be too chill and tender, and theyle bee for the flowrie way that leads to the broad gate, and the great fire
Laf. Go thy waies, I begin to bee a wearie of thee, and I tell thee so before, because I would not fall out with thee. Go thy wayes, let my horses be wel look'd too, without any trickes
Clo. If I put any trickes vpon em sir, they shall bee
Iades trickes, which are their owne right by the law of
Nature.
Exit
Laf. A shrewd knaue and an vnhappie
Lady. So a is. My Lord that's gone made himselfe much sport out of him, by his authoritie hee remaines heere, which he thinkes is a pattent for his sawcinesse, and indeede he has no pace, but runnes where he will
Laf. I like him well, 'tis not amisse: and I was about to tell you, since I heard of the good Ladies death, and that my Lord your sonne was vpon his returne home. I moued the King my master to speake in the behalfe of my daughter, which in the minoritie of them both, his Maiestie out of a selfe gracious remembrance did first propose, his Highnesse hath promis'd me to doe it, and to stoppe vp the displeasure he hath conceiued against your sonne, there is no fitter matter. How do's your Ladyship like it? La. With verie much content my Lord, and I wish it happily effected
Laf. His Highnesse comes post from Marcellus, of as able bodie as when he number'd thirty, a will be heere to morrow, or I am deceiu'd by him that in such intelligence hath seldome fail'd
La. It reioyces me, that I hope I shall see him ere I die. I haue letters that my sonne will be heere to night: I shall beseech your Lordship to remaine with mee, till they meete together
Laf. Madam, I was thinking with what manners I might safely be admitted
Lad. You neede but pleade your honourable priuiledge
Laf. Ladie, of that I haue made a bold charter, but
I thanke my God, it holds yet.
Enter Clowne.
Clo. O Madam, yonders my Lord your sonne with a patch of veluet on's face, whether there bee a scar vnder't or no, the Veluet knowes, but 'tis a goodly patch of Veluet, his left cheeke is a cheeke of two pile and a halfe, but his right cheeke is worne bare
Laf. A scarre nobly got,
Or a noble scarre, is a good liu'rie of honor,
So belike is that
Clo. But it is your carbinado'd face
Laf. Let vs go see your sonne I pray you, I long to talke With the yong noble souldier
Clowne. 'Faith there's a dozen of em, with delicate fine hats, and most courteous feathers, which bow the head, and nod at euerie man.
Exeunt.
Actus Quintus.
Enter Hellen, Widdow, and Diana, with two Attendants.
Hel. But this exceeding posting day and night,
Must wear your spirits low, we cannot helpe it:
But since you haue made the daies and nights as one,
To weare your gentle limbes in my affayres,
Be bold you do so grow in my requitall,
As nothing can vnroote you. In happie time,
Enter a gentle Astringer.
This man may helpe me to his Maiesties eare,
If he would spend his power. God saue you sir
Gent. And you
Hel. Sir, I haue seene you in the Court of France
Gent. I haue beene sometimes there
Hel. I do presume sir, that you are not falne
From the report that goes vpon your goodnesse,
And therefore goaded with most sharpe occasions,
Which lay nice manners by, I put you to
The vse of your owne vertues, for the which
I shall continue thankefull
Gent. What's your will?
Hel. That it will please you
To giue this poore petition to the King,
And ayde me with that store of power you haue
To come into his presence
Gen. The Kings not heere
Hel. Not heere sir?
Gen. Not indeed,
He hence remou'd last night, and with more hast
Then is his vse
Wid. Lord how we loose our paines
Hel. All's well that ends well yet,
Though time seeme so aduerse, and meanes vnfit:
I do beseech you, whither is he gone?
Gent. Marrie as I take it to Rossillion,
Whither I am going
Hel. 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 thanke your paines for it,
I will come after you with what good speede
Our meanes will make vs meanes
Gent. This Ile do for you
Hel. And you shall finde your selfe to be well thankt
what e're falles more. We must to horse againe, Go, go,
prouide.
Enter Clowne and Parrolles.
Par. Good Mr Lauatch giue my Lord Lafew this letter, I haue ere now sir beene better knowne to you, when I haue held familiaritie with fresher cloathes: but I am now sir muddied in fortunes mood, and smell somewhat strong of her strong displeasure
Clo. Truely, Fortunes displeasure is but sluttish if it smell so strongly as thou speak'st of: I will hencefoorth eate no Fish of Fortunes butt'ring. Prethee alow the winde
Par. Nay you neede not to stop your nose sir: I spake but by a Metaphor
Clo. Indeed sir, if your Metaphor stinke, I will stop my nose, or against any mans Metaphor. Prethe get thee further
Par. Pray you sir deliuer me this paper
Clo. Foh, prethee stand away: a paper from fortunes
close-stoole, to giue to a Nobleman. Looke heere he
comes himselfe.
Enter Lafew.
Clo. Heere is a purre of Fortunes sir, or of Fortunes Cat, but not a Muscat, that ha's falne into the vncleane fish-pond of her displeasure, and as he sayes is muddied withall. Pray you sir, vse the Carpe as you may, for he lookes like a poore decayed, ingenious, foolish, rascally knaue. I doe pittie his distresse in my smiles of comfort, and leaue him to your Lordship
Par. My Lord I am a man whom fortune hath cruelly scratch'd
Laf. And what would you haue me to doe? 'Tis too late to paire her nailes now. Wherein haue you played the knaue with fortune that she should scratch you, who of her selfe is a good Lady, and would not haue knaues thriue long vnder? There's a Cardecue for you: Let the Iustices make you and fortune friends; I am for other businesse
Par. I beseech your honour to heare mee one single
word,
Laf. you begge a single peny more: Come you shall
ha't, saue your word
Par. My name my good Lord is Parrolles
Laf. You begge more then word then. Cox my passion,
giue me your hand: How does your drumme?
Par. O my good Lord, you were the first that found
mee
Laf. Was I insooth? And I was the first that lost thee
Par. It lies in you my Lord to bring me in some grace for you did bring me out
Laf. Out vpon thee knaue, doest thou put vpon mee at once both the office of God and the diuel: one brings thee in grace, and the other brings thee out. The Kings comming I know by his Trumpets. Sirrah, inquire further after me, I had talke of you last night, though you are a foole and a knaue, you shall eate, go too, follow
Par. I praise God for you.
Flourish. Enter King, old Lady, Lafew, the two French Lords, with attendants.
Kin. We lost a Iewell of her, and our esteeme
Was made much poorer by it: but your sonne,
As mad in folly, lack'd the sence to know
Her estimation home
Old La. 'Tis past my Liege,
And I beseech your Maiestie to make it
Naturall rebellion, done i'th blade of youth,
When oyle and fire, too strong for reasons force,
Ore-beares it, and burnes on
Kin. My honour'd Lady,
I haue forgiuen and forgotten all,
Though my reuenges were high bent vpon him,
And watch'd the time to shoote
Laf. This I must say,
But first I begge my pardon: the yong Lord
Did to his Maiesty, his Mother, and his Ladie,
Offence of mighty note; but to himselfe
The greatest wrong of all. He lost a wife,
Whose beauty did astonish the suruey
Of richest eies: whose words all eares tooke captiue,
Whose deere perfection, hearts that scorn'd to serue,
Humbly call'd Mistris
Kin. Praising what is lost,
Makes the remembrance deere. Well, call him hither,
We are reconcil'd, and the first view shall kill
All repetition: Let him not aske our pardon,
The nature of his great offence is dead,
And deeper then obliuion, we do burie
Th' incensing reliques of it. Let him approach
A stranger, no offender; and informe him
So 'tis our will he should
Gent. I shall my Liege
Kin. What sayes he to your daughter,
Haue you spoke?
Laf. All that he is, hath reference to your Highnes
Kin. Then shall we haue a match. I haue letters sent me, that sets him high in fame. Enter Count Bertram.
Laf. He lookes well on't
Kin. I am not a day of season,
For thou maist see a sun-shine, and a haile
In me at once: But to the brightest beames
Distracted clouds giue way, so stand thou forth,
The time is faire againe
Ber. My high repented blames
Deere Soueraigne pardon to me
Kin. 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
Th' inaudible, and noiselesse foot of time
Steales, ere we can effect them. You remember
The daughter of this Lord?
Ber. Admiringly my Liege, at first
I stucke my choice vpon her, ere my heart
Durst make too bold a herauld of my tongue:
Where the impression of mine eye enfixing,
Contempt his scornfull Perspectiue did lend me,
Which warpt the line, of euerie other fauour,
Scorn'd a faire colour, or exprest it stolne,
Extended or contracted all proportions
To a most hideous obiect. Thence it came,
That she whom all men prais'd, and whom my selfe,
Since I haue lost, haue lou'd; was in mine eye
The dust that did offend it
Kin. Well excus'd:
That thou didst loue her, strikes some scores away
From the great compt: but loue that comes too late,
Like a remorsefull pardon slowly carried
To the great sender, turnes a sowre offence,
Crying, that's good that's gone: Our rash faults,
Make triuiall price of serious things we haue,
Not knowing them, vntill we know their graue.
Oft our displeasures to our selues vniust,
Destroy our friends, and after weepe their dust:
Our owne loue waking, cries to see what's done,
While shamefull hate sleepes out the afternoone.
Be this sweet Helens knell, and now forget her.
Send forth your amorous token for faire Maudlin,
The maine consents are had, and heere wee'l stay
To see our widdowers second marriage day:
Which better then the first, O deere heauen blesse,
Or, ere they meete in me, O Nature cesse
Laf. Come on my sonne, in whom my houses name
Must be digested: giue a fauour from you
To sparkle in the spirits of my daughter,
That she may quickly come. By my old beard,
And eu'rie haire that's on't, Helen that's dead
Was a sweet creature: such a ring as this,
The last that ere I tooke her leaue at Court,
I saw vpon her finger
Ber. Hers it was not
King. Now pray you let me see it. For mine eye,
While I was speaking, oft was fasten'd too't:
This Ring was mine, and when I gaue it Hellen,
I bad her if her fortunes euer stoode
Necessitied to helpe, that by this token
I would releeue her. Had you that craft to reaue her
Of what should stead her most?
Ber. My gracious Soueraigne,
How ere it pleases you to take it so,
The ring was neuer hers
Old La. Sonne, on my life
I haue seene her weare it, and she reckon'd it
At her liues rate
Laf. I am sure I saw her weare it
Ber. You are deceiu'd my Lord, she neuer saw it:
In Florence was it from a casement throwne mee,
Wrap'd in a paper, which contain'd the name
Of her that threw it: Noble she was, and thought
I stood ingag'd, but when I had subscrib'd
To mine owne fortune, and inform'd her fully,
I could not answer in that course of Honour
As she had made the ouerture, she ceast
In heauie satisfaction, and would neuer
Receiue the Ring againe
Kin. Platus himselfe,
That knowes the tinct and multiplying med'cine,
Hath not in natures mysterie more science,
Then I haue in this Ring. 'Twas mine, 'twas Helens,
Who euer gaue it you: then if you know
That you are well acquainted with your selfe,
Confesse 'twas hers, and by what rough enforcement
You got it from her. She call'd the Saints to suretie,
That she would neuer put it from her finger,
Vnlesse she gaue it to your selfe in bed,
Where you haue neuer come: or sent it vs
Vpon her great disaster
Ber. She neuer saw it
Kin. Thou speak'st it falsely: as I loue mine Honor,
And mak'st connecturall feares to come into me,
Which I would faine shut out, if it should proue
That thou art so inhumane, 'twill not proue so:
And yet I know not, thou didst hate her deadly,
And she is dead, which nothing but to close
Her eyes my selfe, could win me to beleeue,
More then to see this Ring. Take him away,
My fore-past proofes, how ere the matter fall
Shall taze my feares of little vanitie,
Hauing vainly fear'd too little. Away with him,
Wee'l sift this matter further
Ber. If you shall proue
This Ring was euer hers, you shall as easie
Proue that I husbanded her bed in Florence,
Where yet she neuer was.
Enter a Gentleman.
King. I am wrap'd in dismall thinkings
Gen. Gracious Soueraigne.
Whether I haue beene too blame or no, I know not,
Here's a petition from a Florentine,
Who hath for foure or fiue remoues come short,
To tender it her selfe. I vndertooke it,
Vanquish'd thereto by the faire grace and speech
Of the poore suppliant, who by this I know
Is heere attending: her businesse lookes in her
With an importing visage, and she told me
In a sweet verball breefe, it did concerne
Your Highnesse with her selfe.
A Letter.
Vpon his many protestations to marrie mee when his wife was dead, I blush to say it, he wonne me. Now is the Count Rossillion a Widdower, his vowes are forfeited to mee, and my honors payed to him. Hee stole from Florence, taking no leaue, and I follow him to his Countrey for Iustice: Grant it me, O King, in you it best lies, otherwise a seducer flourishes, and a poore Maid is vndone. Diana Capilet
Laf. I will buy me a sonne in Law in a faire, and toule
for this. Ile none of him
Kin. The heauens haue thought well on thee Lafew,
To bring forth this discou'rie, seeke these sutors:
Go speedily, and bring againe the Count.
Enter Bertram.
I am a-feard the life of Hellen (Ladie)
Was fowly snatcht
Old La. Now iustice on the doers
King. I wonder sir, sir, wiues are monsters to you,
And that you flye them as you sweare them Lordship,
Yet you desire to marry. What woman's that?
Enter Widdow, Diana, and Parrolles.
Dia. I am my Lord a wretched Florentine,
Deriued from the ancient Capilet,
My suite as I do vnderstand you know,
And therefore know how farre I may be pittied
Wid. I am her Mother sir, whose age and honour
Both suffer vnder this complaint we bring,
And both shall cease, without your remedie
King. Come hether Count, do you know these Women?
Ber. My Lord, I neither can nor will denie,
But that I know them, do they charge me further?
Dia. Why do you looke so strange vpon your wife?
Ber. She's none of mine my Lord
Dia. If you shall marrie
You giue away this hand, and that is mine,
You giue away heauens vowes, and those are mine:
You giue away my selfe, which is knowne mine:
For I by vow am so embodied yours,
That she which marries you, must marrie me,
Either both or none
Laf. Your reputation comes too short for my daughter,
you are no husband for her
Ber. My Lord, this is a fond and desp'rate creature,
Whom sometime I haue laugh'd with: Let your highnes
Lay a more noble thought vpon mine honour,
Then for to thinke that I would sinke it heere
Kin. Sir for my thoughts, you haue them il to friend,
Till your deeds gaine them fairer: proue your honor,
Then in my thought it lies
Dian. Good my Lord,
Aske him vpon his oath, if hee do's thinke
He had not my virginity
Kin. What saist thou to her?
Ber. She's impudent my Lord,
And was a common gamester to the Campe
Dia. He do's me wrong my Lord: If I were so,
He might haue bought me at a common price.
Do not beleeue him. O behold this Ring,
Whose high respect and rich validitie
Did lacke a Paralell: yet for all that
He gaue it to a Commoner a'th Campe
If I be one
Coun. He blushes, and 'tis hit:
Of sixe preceding Ancestors that Iemme
Confer'd by testament to'th sequent issue
Hath it beene owed and worne. This is his wife,
That Ring's a thousand proofes
King. Me thought you saide
You saw one heere in Court could witnesse it
Dia. I did my Lord, but loath am to produce
So bad an instrument, his names Parrolles
Laf. I saw the man to day, if man he bee
Kin. Finde him, and bring him hether
Ros. What of him:
He's quoted for a most perfidious slaue
With all the spots a'th world, taxt and debosh'd,
Whose nature sickens: but to speake a truth,
Am I, or that or this for what he'l vtter,
That will speake any thing
Kin. She hath that Ring of yours
Ros. I thinke she has; certaine it is I lyk'd her,
And boorded her i'th wanton way of youth:
She knew her distance, and did angle for mee,
Madding my eagernesse with her restraint,
As all impediments in fancies course
Are motiues of more fancie, and in fine,
Her insuite comming with her moderne grace,
Subdu'd me to her rate, she got the Ring,
And I had that which any inferiour might
At Market price haue bought
Dia. I must be patient:
You that haue turn'd off a first so noble wife,
May iustly dyet me. I pray you yet,
(Since you lacke vertue, I will loose a husband)
Send for your Ring, I will returne it home,
And giue me mine againe
Ros. I haue it not
Kin. What Ring was yours I pray you?
Dian. Sir much like the same vpon your finger
Kin. Know you this Ring, this Ring was his of late
Dia. And this was it I gaue him being a bed
Kin. The story then goes false, you threw it him
Out of a Casement
Dia. I haue spoke the truth.
Enter Parolles.
Ros. My Lord, I do confesse the ring was hers
Kin. You boggle shrewdly, euery feather starts you:
Is this the man you speake of?
Dia. I, my Lord
Kin. Tell me sirrah, but tell me true I charge you, Not fearing the displeasure of your master: Which on your iust proceeding, Ile keepe off, By him and by this woman heere, what know you? Par. So please your Maiesty, my master hath bin an honourable Gentleman. Trickes hee hath had in him, which Gentlemen haue
Kin. Come, come, to'th' purpose: Did hee loue this
woman?
Par. Faith sir he did loue her, but how
Kin. How I pray you?
Par. He did loue her sir, as a Gent. loues a Woman
Kin. How is that?
Par. He lou'd her sir, and lou'd her not
Kin. As thou art a knaue and no knaue, what an equiuocall
Companion is this?
Par. I am a poore man, and at your Maiesties command
Laf. Hee's a good drumme my Lord, but a naughtie
Orator
Dian. Do you know he promist me marriage?
Par. Faith I know more then Ile speake
Kin. But wilt thou not speake all thou know'st? Par. Yes so please your Maiesty: I did goe betweene them as I said, but more then that he loued her, for indeede he was madde for her, and talkt of Sathan, and of Limbo, and of Furies, and I know not what: yet I was in that credit with them at that time, that I knewe of their going to bed, and of other motions, as promising her marriage, and things which would deriue mee ill will to speake of, therefore I will not speake what I know
Kin. Thou hast spoken all alreadie, vnlesse thou canst say they are maried, but thou art too fine in thy euidence, therefore stand aside. This Ring you say was yours
Dia. I my good Lord
Kin. Where did you buy it? Or who gaue it you?
Dia. It was not giuen me, nor I did not buy it
Kin. Who lent it you?
Dia. It was not lent me neither
Kin. Where did you finde it then?
Dia. I found it not
Kin. If it were yours by none of all these wayes,
How could you giue it him?
Dia. I neuer gaue it him
Laf. This womans an easie gloue my Lord, she goes
off and on at pleasure
Kin. This Ring was mine, I gaue it his first wife
Dia. It might be yours or hers for ought I know
Kin. Take her away, I do not like her now,
To prison with her: and away with him,
Vnlesse thou telst me where thou hadst this Ring,
Thou diest within this houre
Dia. Ile neuer tell you
Kin. Take her away
Dia. Ile put in baile my liedge
Kin. I thinke thee now some common Customer
Dia. By Ioue if euer I knew man 'twas you
King. Wherefore hast thou accusde him al this while
Dia. Because he's guiltie, and he is not guilty:
He knowes I am no Maid, and hee'l sweare too't:
Ile sweare I am a Maid, and he knowes not.
Great King I am no strumpet, by my life,
I am either Maid, or else this old mans wife
Kin. She does abuse our eares, to prison with her
Dia. Good mother fetch my bayle. Stay Royall sir,
The Ieweller that owes the Ring is sent for,
And he shall surety me. But for this Lord,
Who hath abus'd me as he knowes himselfe,
Though yet he neuer harm'd me, heere I quit him.
He knowes himselfe my bed he hath defil'd,
And at that time he got his wife with childe:
Dead though she be, she feeles her yong one kicke:
So there's my riddle, one that's dead is quicke,
And now behold the meaning.
Enter Hellen and Widdow.
Kin. Is there no exorcist
Beguiles the truer Office of mine eyes?
Is't reall that I see?
Hel. No my good Lord,
'Tis but the shadow of a wife you see,
The name, and not the thing
Ros. Both, both, O pardon
Hel. Oh my good Lord, when I was like this Maid,
I found you wondrous kinde, there is your Ring,
And looke you, heeres your letter: this it sayes,
When from my finger you can get this Ring,
And is by me with childe, &c. This is done,
Will you be mine now you are doubly wonne?
Ros. If she my Liege can make me know this clearly,
Ile loue her dearely, euer, euer dearly
Hel. If it appeare not plaine, and proue vntrue,
Deadly diuorce step betweene me and you.
O my deere mother do I see you liuing?
Laf. Mine eyes smell Onions, I shall weepe anon:
Good Tom Drumme lend me a handkercher.
So I thanke thee, waite on me home, Ile make sport with
thee: Let thy curtsies alone, they are scuruy ones
King. Let vs from point to point this storie know,
To make the euen truth in pleasure flow:
If thou beest yet a fresh vncropped flower,
Choose thou thy husband, and Ile pay thy dower.
For I can guesse, that by thy honest ayde,
Thou keptst a wife her selfe, thy selfe a Maide.
Of that and all the progresse more and lesse,
Resoluedly more leasure shall expresse:
All yet seemes well, and if it end so meete,
The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet.
Flourish.
The Kings a Begger, now the Play is done,
All is well ended, if this suite be wonne,
That you expresse 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 vs, and take our hearts.
Exeunt. omn.
FINIS. ALL'S Well, that Ends Well.
Twelfe Night, Or what you will
Actus Primus, Scaena Prima.
Enter Orsino Duke of Illyria, Curio, and other Lords.
Duke. If Musicke be the food of Loue, play on,
Giue me excesse of it: that surfetting,
The appetite may sicken, and so dye.
That straine agen, it had a dying fall:
O, it came ore my eare, like the sweet sound
That breathes vpon a banke of Violets;
Stealing, and giuing Odour. Enough, no more,
'Tis not so sweet now, as it was before.
O spirit of Loue, how quicke and fresh art thou,
That notwithstanding thy capacitie,
Receiueth as the Sea. Nought enters there,
Of what validity, and pitch so ere,
But falles into abatement, and low price
Euen in a minute; so full of shapes is fancie,
That it alone, is high fantasticall
Cu. Will you go hunt my Lord?
Du. What Curio?
Cu. The Hart
Du. Why so I do, the Noblest that I haue:
O when mine eyes did see Oliuia first,
Me thought she purg'd the ayre of pestilence;
That instant was I turn'd into a Hart,
And my desires like fell and cruell hounds,
Ere since pursue me. How now what newes from her?
Enter Valentine.
Val. So please my Lord, I might not be admitted,
But from her handmaid do returne this answer:
The Element it selfe, till seuen yeares heate,
Shall not behold her face at ample view:
But like a Cloystresse she will vailed walke,
And water once a day her Chamber round
With eye-offending brine: all this to season
A brothers dead loue, which she would keepe fresh
And lasting, in her sad remembrance
Du. O she that hath a heart of that fine frame
To pay this debt of loue but to a brother,
How will she loue, when the rich golden shaft
Hath kill'd the flocke of all affections else
That liue in her. When Liuer, Braine, and Heart,
These soueraigne thrones, are all supply'd and fill'd
Her sweete perfections with one selfe king:
Away before me, to sweet beds of Flowres,
Loue-thoughts lye rich, when canopy'd with bowres.
Exeunt.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Viola, a Captaine, and Saylors.
Vio. What Country (Friends) is this?
Cap. This is Illyria Ladie
Vio. And what should I do in Illyria?
My brother he is in Elizium,
Perchance he is not drown'd: What thinke you saylors?
Cap. It is perchance that you your selfe were saued
Vio. O my poore brother, and so perchance may he be
Cap. True Madam, and to comfort you with chance,
Assure your selfe, after our ship did split,
When you, and those poore number saued with you,
Hung on our driuing boate: I saw your brother
Most prouident in perill, binde himselfe,
(Courage and hope both teaching him the practise)
To a strong Maste, that liu'd vpon the sea:
Where like Orion on the Dolphines backe,
I saw him hold acquaintance with the waues,
So long as I could see
Vio. For saying so, there's Gold:
Mine owne escape vnfoldeth to my hope,
Whereto thy speech serues for authoritie
The like of him. Know'st thou this Countrey?
Cap. I Madam well, for I was bred and borne
Not three houres trauaile from this very place
Vio. Who gouernes heere?
Cap. A noble Duke in nature, as in name
Vio. What is his name?
Cap. Orsino
Vio. Orsino: I haue heard my father name him.
He was a Batchellor then
Cap. And so is now, or was so very late:
For but a month ago I went from hence,
And then 'twas fresh in murmure (as you know
What great ones do, the lesse will prattle of,)
That he did seeke the loue of faire Oliuia
Vio. What's shee?
Cap. A vertuous maid, the daughter of a Count
That dide some tweluemonth since, then leauing her
In the protection of his sonne, her brother,
Who shortly also dide: for whose deere loue
(They say) she hath abiur'd the sight
And company of men
Vio. O that I seru'd that Lady,
And might not be deliuered to the world
Till I had made mine owne occasion mellow
What my estate is
Cap. That were hard to compasse,
Because she will admit no kinde of suite,
No, not the Dukes
Vio. There is a faire behauiour in thee Captaine,
And though that nature, with a beauteous wall
Doth oft close in pollution: yet of thee
I will beleeue thou hast a minde that suites
With this thy faire and outward charracter.
I prethee (and Ile pay thee bounteously)
Conceale me what I am, and be my ayde,
For such disguise as haply shall become
The forme of my intent. Ile serue this Duke,
Thou shalt present me as an Eunuch to him,
It may be worth thy paines: for I can sing,
And speake to him in many sorts of Musicke,
That will allow me very worth his seruice.
What else may hap, to time I will commit,
Onely shape thou thy silence to my wit
Cap. Be you his Eunuch, and your Mute Ile bee,
When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see
Vio. I thanke thee: Lead me on.
Exeunt.
Scaena Tertia.
Enter Sir Toby, and Maria.
Sir To. What a plague meanes my Neece to take the death of her brother thus? I am sure care's an enemie to life
Mar. By my troth sir Toby, you must come in earlyer a nights: your Cosin, my Lady, takes great exceptions to your ill houres
To. Why let her except, before excepted
Ma. I, but you must confine your selfe within the modest limits of order
To. Confine? Ile confine my selfe no finer then I am: these cloathes are good enough to drinke in, and so bee these boots too: and they be not, let them hang themselues in their owne straps
Ma. That quaffing and drinking will vndoe you: I
heard my Lady talke of it yesterday: and of a foolish
knight that you brought in one night here, to be hir woer
To. Who, Sir Andrew Ague-cheeke?
Ma. I he
To. He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria
Ma. What's that to th' purpose?
To. Why he ha's three thousand ducates a yeare
Ma. I, but hee'l haue but a yeare in all these ducates:
He's a very foole, and a prodigall
To. Fie, that you'l say so: he playes o'th Viol-de-gamboys, and speaks three or four languages word for word without booke, & hath all the good gifts of nature
Ma. He hath indeed, almost naturall: for besides that he's a foole, he's a great quarreller: and but that hee hath the gift of a Coward, to allay the gust he hath in quarrelling, 'tis thought among the prudent, he would quickely haue the gift of a graue
Tob. By this hand they are scoundrels and substractors
that say so of him. Who are they?
Ma. They that adde moreour, hee's drunke nightly
in your company
To. With drinking healths to my Neece: Ile drinke to her as long as there is a passage in my throat, & drinke in Illyria: he's a Coward and a Coystrill that will not drinke to my Neece, till his braines turne o'th toe, like a parish top. What wench? Castiliano vulgo: for here coms Sir Andrew Agueface. Enter Sir Andrew.
And. Sir Toby Belch. How now sir Toby Belch?
To. Sweet sir Andrew
And. Blesse you faire Shrew
Mar. And you too sir
Tob. Accost Sir Andrew, accost
And. What's that?
To. My Neeces Chamber-maid
Ma. Good Mistris accost, I desire better acquaintance
Ma. My name is Mary sir
And. Good mistris Mary, accost
To, You mistake knight: Accost, is front her, boord
her, woe her, assayle her
And. By my troth I would not vndertake her in this
company. Is that the meaning of Accost?
Ma. Far you well Gentlemen
To. And thou let part so Sir Andrew, would thou
mightst neuer draw sword agen
And. And you part so mistris, I would I might neuer
draw sword agen: Faire Lady, doe you thinke you haue
fooles in hand?
Ma. Sir, I haue not you by'th hand
An. Marry but you shall haue, and heeres my hand
Ma. Now sir, thought is free: I pray you bring your
hand to'th Buttry barre, and let it drinke
An. Wherefore (sweet-heart?) What's your Metaphor?
Ma. It's dry sir
And. Why I thinke so: I am not such an asse, but I
can keepe my hand dry. But what's your iest?
Ma. A dry iest Sir
And. Are you full of them?
Ma. I Sir, I haue them at my fingers ends: marry now
I let go your hand, I am barren.
Exit Maria
To. O knight, thou lack'st a cup of Canarie: when did I see thee so put downe? An. Neuer in your life I thinke, vnlesse you see Canarie put me downe: mee thinkes sometimes I haue no more wit then a Christian, or an ordinary man ha's: but I am a great eater of beefe, and I beleeue that does harme to my wit
To. No question
An. And I thought that, I'de forsweare it. Ile ride home to morrow sir Toby
To. Pur-quoy my deere knight? An. What is purquoy? Do, or not do? I would I had bestowed that time in the tongues, that I haue in fencing dancing, and beare-bayting: O had I but followed the Arts
To. Then hadst thou had an excellent head of haire
An. Why, would that haue mended my haire?
To. Past question, for thou seest it will not coole my nature
An. But it becoms me wel enough, dost not?
To. Excellent, it hangs like flax on a distaffe: & I hope
to see a huswife take thee between her legs, & spin it off
An. Faith Ile home to morrow sir Toby, your niece wil not be seene, or if she be it's four to one, she'l none of me: the Count himselfe here hard by, wooes her
To. Shee'l none o'th Count, she'l not match aboue hir degree, neither in estate, yeares, nor wit: I haue heard her swear't. Tut there's life in't man
And. Ile stay a moneth longer. I am a fellow o'th strangest minde i'th world: I delight in Maskes and Reuels sometimes altogether
To. Art thou good at these kicke-chawses Knight?
And. As any man in Illyria, whatsoeuer he be, vnder
the degree of my betters, & yet I will not compare with
an old man
To. What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight?
And. Faith, I can cut a caper
To. And I can cut the Mutton too't
And. And I thinke I haue the backe-tricke, simply as strong as any man in Illyria
To. Wherefore are these things hid? Wherefore haue these gifts a Curtaine before 'em? Are they like to take dust, like mistris Mals picture? Why dost thou not goe to Church in a Galliard, and come home in a Carranto? My verie walke should be a Iigge: I would not so much as make water but in a Sinke-a-pace: What dooest thou meane? Is it a world to hide vertues in? I did thinke by the excellent constitution of thy legge, it was form'd vnder the starre of a Galliard
And. I, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent well in a
dam'd colour'd stocke. Shall we sit about some Reuels?
To. What shall we do else: were we not borne vnder
Taurus?
And. Taurus? That sides and heart
To. No sir, it is leggs and thighes: let me see thee caper.
Ha, higher: ha, ha, excellent.
Exeunt.
Scena Quarta.
Enter Valentine, and Viola in mans attire.
Val. If the Duke continue these fauours towards you Cesario, you are like to be much aduanc'd, he hath known you but three dayes, and already you are no stranger
Vio. You either feare his humour, or my negligence, that you call in question the continuance of his loue. Is he inconstant sir, in his fauours
Val. No beleeue me.
Enter Duke, Curio, and Attendants.
Vio. I thanke you: heere comes the Count
Duke. Who saw Cesario hoa?
Vio. On your attendance my Lord heere
Du. Stand you a-while aloofe. Cesario,
Thou knowst no lesse, but all: I haue vnclasp'd
To thee the booke euen of my secret soule.
Therefore good youth, addresse thy gate vnto her,
Be not deni'de accesse, stand at her doores,
And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow
Till thou haue audience
Vio. Sure my Noble Lord,
If she be so abandon'd to her sorrow
As it is spoke, she neuer will admit me
Du. Be clamorous, and leape all ciuill bounds,
Rather then make vnprofited returne,
Vio. Say I do speake with her (my Lord) what then?
Du. O then, vnfold the passion of my loue,
Surprize her with discourse of my deere faith;
It shall become thee well to act my woes:
She will attend it better in thy youth,
Then in a Nuntio's of more graue aspect
Vio. I thinke not so, my Lord
Du. Deere Lad, beleeue it;
For they shall yet belye thy happy yeeres,
That say thou art a man: Dianas lip
Is not more smooth, and rubious: thy small pipe
Is as the maidens organ, shrill, and sound,
And all is semblatiue a womans part.
I know thy constellation is right apt
For this affayre: some foure or fiue attend him,
All if you will: for I my selfe am best
When least in companie: prosper well in this,
And thou shalt liue as freely as thy Lord,
To call his fortunes thine
Vio. Ile do my best
To woe your Lady: yet a barrefull strife,
Who ere I woe, my selfe would be his wife.
Exeunt.
Scena Quinta.
Enter Maria, and Clowne.
Ma. Nay, either tell me where thou hast bin, or I will not open my lippes so wide as a brissle may enter, in way of thy excuse: my Lady will hang thee for thy absence
Clo. Let her hang me: hee that is well hang'de in this world, needs to feare no colours
Ma. Make that good
Clo. He shall see none to feare
Ma. A good lenton answer: I can tell thee where y
saying was borne, of I feare no colours
Clo. Where good mistris Mary?
Ma. In the warrs, & that may you be bolde to say in
your foolerie
Clo. Well, God giue them wisedome that haue it: &
those that are fooles, let them vse their talents
Ma. Yet you will be hang'd for being so long absent, or to be turn'd away: is not that as good as a hanging to you? Clo. Many a good hanging, preuents a bad marriage: and for turning away, let summer beare it out
Ma. You are resolute then?
Clo. Not so neyther, but I am resolu'd on two points
Ma. That if one breake, the other will hold: or if both
breake, your gaskins fall
Clo. Apt in good faith, very apt: well go thy way, if sir Toby would leaue drinking, thou wert as witty a piece of Eues flesh, as any in Illyria
Ma. Peace you rogue, no more o'that: here comes my
Lady: make your excuse wisely, you were best.
Enter Lady Oliuia, with Maluolio.
Clo. Wit, and't be thy will, put me into good fooling: those wits that thinke they haue thee, doe very oft proue fooles: and I that am sure I lacke thee, may passe for a wise man. For what saies Quinapalus, Better a witty foole, then a foolish wit. God blesse thee Lady
Ol. Take the foole away
Clo. Do you not heare fellowes, take away the Ladie
Ol. Go too, y'are a dry foole: Ile no more of you: besides you grow dis-honest
Clo. Two faults Madona, that drinke & good counsell wil amend: for giue the dry foole drink, then is the foole not dry: bid the dishonest man mend himself, if he mend, he is no longer dishonest; if hee cannot, let the Botcher mend him: any thing that's mended, is but patch'd: vertu that transgresses, is but patcht with sinne, and sin that amends, is but patcht with vertue. If that this simple Sillogisme will serue, so: if it will not, what remedy? As there is no true Cuckold but calamity, so beauties a flower; The Lady bad take away the foole, therefore I say againe, take her away
Ol. Sir, I bad them take away you
Clo. Misprision in the highest degree. Lady, Cucullus non facit monachum: that's as much to say, as I weare not motley in my braine: good Madona, giue mee leaue to proue you a foole
Ol. Can you do it?
Clo. Dexteriously, good Madona
Ol. Make your proofe
Clo. I must catechize you for it Madona, Good my
Mouse of vertue answer mee
Ol. Well sir, for want of other idlenesse, Ile bide your
proofe
Clo. Good Madona, why mournst thou?
Ol. Good foole, for my brothers death
Clo. I thinke his soule is in hell, Madona
Ol. I know his soule is in heauen, foole
Clo. The more foole (Madona) to mourne for your
Brothers soule, being in heauen. Take away the Foole,
Gentlemen
Ol. What thinke you of this foole Maluolio, doth he not mend? Mal. Yes, and shall do, till the pangs of death shake him: Infirmity that decaies the wise, doth euer make the better foole
Clow. God send you sir, a speedie Infirmity, for the better increasing your folly: Sir Toby will be sworn that I am no Fox, but he wil not passe his word for two pence that you are no Foole
Ol. How say you to that Maluolio? Mal. I maruell your Ladyship takes delight in such a barren rascall: I saw him put down the other day, with an ordinary foole, that has no more braine then a stone. Looke you now, he's out of his gard already: vnles you laugh and minister occasion to him, he is gag'd. I protest I take these Wisemen, that crow so at these set kinde of fooles, no better then the fooles Zanies
Ol. O you are sicke of selfe-loue Maluolio, and taste with a distemper'd appetite. To be generous, guiltlesse, and of free disposition, is to take those things for Bird-bolts, that you deeme Cannon bullets: There is no slander in an allow'd foole, though he do nothing but rayle; nor no rayling, in a knowne discreet man, though hee do nothing but reproue
Clo. Now Mercury indue thee with leasing, for thou speak'st well of fooles. Enter Maria.
Mar. Madam, there is at the gate, a young Gentleman,
much desires to speake with you
Ol. From the Count Orsino, is it?
Ma I know not (Madam) 'tis a faire young man, and
well attended
Ol. Who of my people hold him in delay?
Ma. Sir Toby Madam, your kinsman
Ol. Fetch him off I pray you, he speakes nothing but madman: Fie on him. Go you Maluolio; If it be a suit from the Count, I am sicke, or not at home. What you will, to dismisse it.
Exit Maluo.
Now you see sir, how your fooling growes old, & people dislike it
Clo. Thou hast spoke for vs (Madona) as if thy eldest sonne should be a foole: whose scull, Ioue cramme with braines, for heere he comes. Enter Sir Toby.
One of thy kin has a most weake Pia-mater
Ol. By mine honor halfe drunke. What is he at the
gate Cosin?
To. A Gentleman
Ol. A Gentleman? What Gentleman?
To. 'Tis a Gentleman heere. A plague o'these pickle
herring: How now Sot
Clo. Good Sir Toby
Ol. Cosin, Cosin, how haue you come so earely by
this Lethargie?
To. Letcherie, I defie Letchery: there's one at the
gate
Ol. I marry, what is he?
To. Let him be the diuell and he will, I care not: giue
me faith say I. Well, it's all one.
Exit
Ol. What's a drunken man like, foole?
Clo. Like a drown'd man, a foole, and a madde man:
One draught aboue heate, makes him a foole, the second
maddes him, and a third drownes him
Ol. Go thou and seeke the Crowner, and let him sitte o'my Coz: for he's in the third degree of drinke: hee's drown'd: go looke after him
Clo. He is but mad yet Madona, and the foole shall looke to the madman. Enter Maluolio.
Mal. Madam, yond young fellow sweares hee will speake with you. I told him you were sicke, he takes on him to vnderstand so much, and therefore comes to speak with you. I told him you were asleepe, he seems to haue a fore knowledge of that too, and therefore comes to speake with you. What is to be said to him Ladie, hee's fortified against any deniall
Ol. Tell him, he shall not speake with me
Mal. Ha's beene told so: and hee sayes hee'l stand at your doore like a Sheriffes post, and be the supporter to a bench, but hee'l speake with you
Ol. What kinde o'man is he?
Mal. Why of mankinde
Ol. What manner of man?
Mal. Of verie ill manner: hee'l speake with you, will
you, or no
Ol. Of what personage, and yeeres is he? Mal. Not yet old enough for a man, nor yong enough for a boy: as a squash is before tis a pescod, or a Codling when tis almost an Apple: Tis with him in standing water, betweene boy and man. He is verie well-fauour'd, and he speakes verie shrewishly: One would thinke his mothers milke were scarse out of him
Ol. Let him approach: Call in my Gentlewoman
Mal. Gentlewoman, my Lady calles.
Enter.
Enter Maria.
Ol. Giue me my vaile: come throw it ore my face,
Wee'l once more heare Orsinos Embassie.
Enter Violenta.
Vio. The honorable Ladie of the house, which is she?
Ol. Speake to me, I shall answer for her: your will
Vio. Most radiant, exquisite, and vnmatchable beautie. I pray you tell me if this bee the Lady of the house, for I neuer saw her. I would bee loath to cast away my speech: for besides that it is excellently well pend, I haue taken great paines to con it. Good Beauties, let mee sustaine no scorne; I am very comptible, euen to the least sinister vsage
Ol. Whence came you sir? Vio. I can say little more then I haue studied, & that question's out of my part. Good gentle one, giue mee modest assurance, if you be the Ladie of the house, that | I may proceede in my speech
Ol. Are you a Comedian?
Vio. No my profound heart: and yet (by the verie
phangs of malice, I sweare) I am not that I play. Are you
the Ladie of the house?
Ol. If I do not vsurpe my selfe, I am
Vio. Most certaine, if you are she, you do vsurp your selfe: for what is yours to bestowe, is, not yours to reserue. But this is from my Commission: I will on with my speech in your praise, and then shew you the heart of my message
Ol. Come to what is important in't: I forgiue you
the praise
Vio. Alas, I tooke great paines to studie it, and 'tis
Poeticall
Ol. It is the more like to be feigned, I pray you keep it in. I heard you were sawcy at my gates, & allowd your approach rather to wonder at you, then to heare you. If you be not mad, be gone: if you haue reason, be breefe: 'tis not that time of Moone with me, to make one in so skipping a dialogue
Ma. Will you hoyst sayle sir, here lies your way
Vio. No good swabber, I am to hull here a little longer. Some mollification for your Giant, sweete Ladie; tell me your minde, I am a messenger
Ol. Sure you haue some hiddeous matter to deliuer, when the curtesie of it is so fearefull. Speake your office
Vio. It alone concernes your eare: I bring no ouerture of warre, no taxation of homage; I hold the Olyffe in my hand: my words are as full of peace, as matter
Ol. Yet you began rudely. What are you? What would you? Vio. The rudenesse that hath appear'd in mee, haue I learn'd from my entertainment. What I am, and what I would, are as secret as maiden-head: to your eares, Diuinity; to any others, prophanation
Ol. Giue vs the place alone,
We will heare this diuinitie. Now sir, what is your text?
Vio. Most sweet Ladie
Ol. A comfortable doctrine, and much may bee saide
of it. Where lies your Text?
Vio. In Orsinoes bosome
Ol. In his bosome? In what chapter of his bosome?
Vio. To answer by the method, in the first of his hart
Ol. O, I haue read it: it is heresie. Haue you no more
to say?
Vio. Good Madam, let me see your face
Ol. Haue you any Commission from your Lord, to negotiate with my face: you are now out of your Text: but we will draw the Curtain, and shew you the picture. Looke you sir, such a one I was this present: Ist not well done? Vio. Excellently done, if God did all
Ol. 'Tis in graine sir, 'twill endure winde and weather
Vio. Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white,
Natures owne sweet, and cunning hand laid on:
Lady, you are the cruell'st shee aliue,
If you will leade these graces to the graue,
And leaue the world no copie
Ol. O sir, I will not be so hard-hearted: I will giue out diuers scedules of my beautie. It shalbe Inuentoried and euery particle and vtensile labell'd to my will: As, Item two lippes indifferent redde, Item two grey eyes, with lids to them: Item, one necke, one chin, & so forth. Were you sent hither to praise me? Vio. I see you what you are, you are too proud: But if you were the diuell, you are faire: My Lord, and master loues you: O such loue Could be but recompenc'd, though you were crown'd The non-pareil of beautie
Ol. How does he loue me?
Vio. With adorations, fertill teares,
With groanes that thunder loue, with sighes of fire
Ol. Your Lord does know my mind, I cannot loue him
Yet I suppose him vertuous, know him noble,
Of great estate, of fresh and stainlesse youth;
In voyces well divulg'd, free, learn'd, and valiant,
And in dimension, and the shape of nature,
A gracious person; But yet I cannot loue him:
He might haue tooke his answer long ago
Vio. If I did loue you in my masters flame,
With such a suffring, such a deadly life:
In your deniall, I would finde no sence,
I would not vnderstand it
Ol. Why, what would you?
Vio. Make me a willow Cabine at your gate,
And call vpon my soule within the house,
Write loyall Cantons of contemned loue,
And sing them lowd euen in the dead of night:
Hallow your name to the reuerberate hilles,
And make the babling Gossip of the aire,
Cry out Oliuia: O you should not rest
Betweene the elements of ayre, and earth,
But you should pittie me
Ol. You might do much:
What is your Parentage?
Vio. Aboue my fortunes, yet my state is well:
I am a Gentleman
Ol. Get you to your Lord:
I cannot loue him: let him send no more,
Vnlesse (perchance) you come to me againe,
To tell me how he takes it: Fare you well:
I thanke you for your paines: spend this for mee
Vio. I am no feede poast, Lady; keepe your purse,
My Master, not my selfe, lackes recompence.
Loue make his heart of flint, that you shal loue,
And let your feruour like my masters be,
Plac'd in contempt: Farwell fayre crueltie.
Exit
Ol. What is your Parentage?
Aboue my fortunes, yet my state is well;
I am a Gentleman. Ile be sworne thou art,
Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbes, actions, and spirit,
Do giue thee fiue-fold blazon: not too fast: soft, soft,
Vnlesse the Master were the man. How now?
Euen so quickly may one catch the plague?
Me thinkes I feele this youths perfections
With an inuisible, and subtle stealth
To creepe in at mine eyes. Well, let it be.
What hoa, Maluolio.
Enter Maluolio.
Mal. Heere Madam, at your seruice
Ol. Run after that same peeuish Messenger
The Countes man: he left this Ring behinde him
Would I, or not: tell him, Ile none of it.
Desire him not to flatter with his Lord,
Nor hold him vp with hopes, I am not for him:
If that the youth will come this way to morrow,
Ile giue him reasons for't: hie thee Maluolio
Mal. Madam, I will.
Enter.
Ol. I do I know not what, and feare to finde
Mine eye too great a flatterer for my minde:
Fate, shew thy force, our selues we do not owe,
What is decreed, must be: and be this so.
Finis, Actus primus.
Actus Secundus, Scaena prima.
Enter Antonio & Sebastian.
Ant. Will you stay no longer: nor will you not that
I go with you
Seb. By your patience, no: my starres shine darkely ouer me; the malignancie of my fate, might perhaps distemper yours; therefore I shall craue of you your leaue, that I may beare my euils alone. It were a bad recompence for your loue, to lay any of them on you
An. Let me yet know of you, whither you are bound
Seb. No sooth sir: my determinate voyage is meere extrauagancie. But I perceiue in you so excellent a touch of modestie, that you will not extort from me, what I am willing to keepe in: therefore it charges me in manners, the rather to expresse my selfe: you must know of mee then Antonio, my name is Sebastian (which I call'd Rodorigo) my father was that Sebastian of Messaline, whom I know you haue heard of. He left behinde him, my selfe, and a sister, both borne in an houre: if the Heauens had beene pleas'd, would we had so ended. But you sir, alter'd that, for some houre before you tooke me from the breach of the sea, was my sister drown'd
Ant. Alas the day
Seb. A Lady sir, though it was said shee much resembled me, was yet of many accounted beautiful: but thogh I could not with such estimable wonder ouer-farre beleeue that, yet thus farre I will boldly publish her, shee bore a minde that enuy could not but call faire: Shee is drown'd already sir with salt water, though I seeme to drowne her remembrance againe with more
Ant. Pardon me sir, your bad entertainment
Seb. O good Antonio, forgiue me your trouble
Ant. If you will not murther me for my loue, let mee be your seruant
Seb. If you will not vndo what you haue done, that is kill him, whom you haue recouer'd, desire it not. Fare ye well at once, my bosome is full of kindnesse, and I am yet so neere the manners of my mother, that vpon the least occasion more, mine eyes will tell tales of me: I am bound to the Count Orsino's Court, farewell.
Exit
Ant. The gentlenesse of all the gods go with thee:
I haue many enemies in Orsino's Court,
Else would I very shortly see thee there:
But come what may, I do adore thee so,
That danger shall seeme sport, and I will go.
Enter.
Scaena Secunda.
Enter Viola and Maluolio, at seuerall doores.
Mal. Were not you eu'n now, with the Countesse Oliuia?
Vio. Euen now sir, on a moderate pace, I haue since ariu'd
but hither
Mal. She returnes this Ring to you (sir) you might haue saued mee my paines, to haue taken it away your selfe. She adds moreouer, that you should put your Lord into a desperate assurance, she will none of him. And one thing more, that you be neuer so hardie to come againe in his affaires, vnlesse it bee to report your Lords taking of this: receiue it so
Vio. She tooke the Ring of me, Ile none of it
Mal. Come sir, you peeuishly threw it to her: and her will is, it should be so return'd: If it bee worth stooping for, there it lies, in your eye: if not, bee it his that findes it. Enter.
Vio. I left no Ring with her: what meanes this Lady?
Fortune forbid my out-side haue not charm'd her:
She made good view of me, indeed so much,
That me thought her eyes had lost her tongue,
For she did speake in starts distractedly.
She loues me sure, the cunning of her passion
Inuites me in this churlish messenger:
None of my Lords Ring? Why he sent her none;
I am the man, if it be so, as tis,
Poore Lady, she were better loue a dreame:
Disguise, I see thou art a wickednesse,
Wherein the pregnant enemie does much.
How easie is it, for the proper false
In womens waxen hearts to set their formes:
Alas, O frailtie is the cause, not wee,
For such as we are made, if such we bee:
How will this fadge? My master loues her deerely,
And I (poore monster) fond asmuch on him:
And she (mistaken) seemes to dote on me:
What will become of this? As I am man,
My state is desperate for my maisters loue:
As I am woman (now alas the day)
What thriftlesse sighes shall poore Oliuia breath?
O time, thou must vntangle this, not I,
It is too hard a knot for me t' vnty.
Scoena Tertia.
Enter Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew.
To. Approach Sir Andrew: not to bee a bedde after midnight, is to be vp betimes, and Deliculo surgere, thou know'st
And. Nay by my troth I know not: but I know, to be vp late, is to be vp late
To. A false conclusion: I hate it as an vnfill'd Canne. To be vp after midnight, and to go to bed then is early: so that to go to bed after midnight, is to goe to bed betimes. Does not our liues consist of the foure Elements? And. Faith so they say, but I thinke it rather consists of eating and drinking
To. Th'art a scholler; let vs therefore eate and drinke
Marian I say, a stoope of wine.
Enter Clowne.
And. Heere comes the foole yfaith
Clo. How now my harts: Did you neuer see the Picture
of we three?
To. Welcome asse, now let's haue a catch
And. By my troth the foole has an excellent breast. I had rather then forty shillings I had such a legge, and so sweet a breath to sing, as the foole has. Insooth thou wast in very gracious fooling last night, when thou spok'st of Pigrogromitus, of the Vapians passing the Equinoctial of Queubus: 'twas very good yfaith: I sent thee sixe pence for thy Lemon, hadst it? Clo. I did impeticos thy gratillity: for Maluolios nose is no Whip-stocke. My Lady has a white hand, and the Mermidons are no bottle-ale houses
An. Excellent: Why this is the best fooling, when
all is done. Now a song
To. Come on, there is sixe pence for you. Let's haue
a song
An. There's a testrill of me too: if one knight giue a
Clo. Would you haue a loue-song, or a song of good
life?
To. A loue song, a loue song
An. I, I. I care not for good life
Clowne sings .
O Mistris mine where are you roming?
O stay and heare, your true loues coming,
That can sing both high and low.
Trip no further prettie sweeting.
Iourneys end in louers meeting,
Euery wise mans sonne doth know
An. Excellent good, ifaith
To. Good, good
Clo. What is loue, tis not heereafter,
Present mirth, hath present laughter:
What's to come, is still vnsure.
In delay there lies no plentie,
Then come kisse me sweet and twentie:
Youths a stuffe will not endure
An. A mellifluous voyce, as I am true knight
To. A contagious breath
An. Very sweet, and contagious ifaith
To. To heare by the nose, it is dulcet in contagion. But shall we make the Welkin dance indeed? Shall wee rowze the night-Owle in a Catch, that will drawe three soules out of one Weauer? Shall we do that? And. And you loue me, let's doo't: I am dogge at a Catch
Clo. Byrlady sir, and some dogs will catch well
An. Most certaine: Let our Catch be, Thou Knaue
Clo. Hold thy peace, thou Knaue knight. I shall be constrain'd
in't, to call thee knaue, Knight
An. 'Tis not the first time I haue constrained one to
call me knaue. Begin foole: it begins, Hold thy peace
Clo. I shall neuer begin if I hold my peace
An. Good ifaith: Come begin.
Catch sung
Enter Maria.
Mar. What a catterwalling doe you keepe heere? If my Ladie haue not call'd vp her Steward Maluolio, and bid him turne you out of doores, neuer trust me
To. My Lady's a Catayan, we are politicians, Maluolios a Peg-a-ramsie, and Three merry men be wee. Am not I consanguinious? Am I not of her blood: tilly vally. Ladie, There dwelt a man in Babylon, Lady, Lady
Clo. Beshrew me, the knights in admirable fooling
An. I, he do's well enough if he be dispos'd, and so do I too: he does it with a better grace, but I do it more naturall
To. O the twelfe day of December
Mar. For the loue o' God peace.
Enter Maluolio.
Mal. My masters are you mad? Or what are you? Haue you no wit, manners, nor honestie, but to gabble like Tinkers at this time of night? Do yee make an Alehouse of my Ladies house, that ye squeak out your Coziers Catches without any mitigation or remorse of voice? Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time in you? To. We did keepe time sir in our Catches. Snecke vp
Mal. Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My Lady bad me tell you, that though she harbors you as her kinsman, she's nothing ally'd to your disorders. If you can separate your selfe and your misdemeanors, you are welcome to the house: if not, and it would please you to take leaue of her, she is very willing to bid you farewell
To. Farewell deere heart, since I must needs be gone
Mar. Nay good Sir Toby
Clo. His eyes do shew his dayes are almost done
Mal. Is't euen so?
To. But I will neuer dye
Clo. Sir Toby there you lye
Mal. This is much credit to you
To. Shall I bid him go
Clo. What and if you do?
To. Shall I bid him go, and spare not?
Clo. O no, no, no, no, you dare not
To. Out o' tune sir, ye lye: Art any more then a Steward? Dost thou thinke because thou art vertuous, there shall be no more Cakes and Ale? Clo. Yes by S[aint]. Anne, and Ginger shall bee hotte y'th mouth too
To. Th'art i'th right. Goe sir, rub your Chaine with crums. A stope of Wine Maria
Mal. Mistris Mary, if you priz'd my Ladies fauour at any thing more then contempt, you would not giue meanes for this vnciuill rule; she shall know of it by this hand.
Exit
Mar. Go shake your eares
An. 'Twere as good a deede as to drink when a mans a hungrie, to challenge him the field, and then to breake promise with him, and make a foole of him
To. Doo't knight, Ile write thee a Challenge: or Ile deliuer thy indignation to him by word of mouth
Mar. Sweet Sir Toby be patient for to night: Since the youth of the Counts was to day with my Lady, she is much out of quiet. For Monsieur Maluolio, let me alone with him: If I do not gull him into a nayword, and make him a common recreation, do not thinke I haue witte enough to lye straight in my bed: I know I can do it
To. Possesse vs, possesse vs, tell vs something of him
Mar. Marrie sir, sometimes he is a kinde of Puritane
An. O, if I thought that, Ide beate him like a dogge
To. What for being a Puritan, thy exquisite reason,
deere knight
An. I haue no exquisite reason for't, but I haue reason
good enough
Mar. The diu'll a Puritane that hee is, or any thing constantly but a time-pleaser, an affection'd Asse, that cons State without booke, and vtters it by great swarths. The best perswaded of himselfe: so cram'd (as he thinkes) with excellencies, that it is his grounds of faith, that all that looke on him, loue him: and on that vice in him, will my reuenge finde notable cause to worke
To. What wilt thou do? Mar. I will drop in his way some obscure Epistles of loue, wherein by the colour of his beard, the shape of his legge, the manner of his gate, the expressure of his eye, forehead, and complection, he shall finde himselfe most feelingly personated. I can write very like my Ladie your Neece, on a forgotten matter wee can hardly make distinction of our hands
To. Excellent, I smell a deuice
An. I hau't in my nose too
To. He shall thinke by the Letters that thou wilt drop that they come from my Neece, and that shee's in loue with him
Mar. My purpose is indeed a horse of that colour
An. And your horse now would make him an Asse
Mar. Asse, I doubt not
An. O twill be admirable
Mar. Sport royall I warrant you: I know my Physicke will worke with him, I will plant you two, and let the Foole make a third, where he shall finde the Letter: obserue his construction of it: For this night to bed, and dreame on the euent: Farewell.
Exit
To. Good night Penthisilea
An. Before me she's a good wench
To. She's a beagle true bred, and one that adores me:
what o'that?
An. I was ador'd once too
To. Let's to bed knight: Thou hadst neede send for
more money
An. If I cannot recouer your Neece, I am a foule way
out
To. Send for money knight, if thou hast her not i'th
end, call me Cut
An. If I do not, neuer trust me, take it how you will
To. Come, come, Ile go burne some Sacke, tis too late to go to bed now: Come knight, come knight.
Exeunt.
Scena Quarta.
Enter Duke, Viola, Curio, and others
Du. Giue me some Musick; Now good morow frends.
Now good Cesario, but that peece of song,
That old and Anticke song we heard last night;
Me thought it did releeue my passion much,
More then light ayres, and recollected termes
Of these most briske and giddy-paced times.
Come, but one verse
Cur. He is not heere (so please your Lordshippe) that
should sing it?
Du. Who was it?
Cur. Feste the Iester my Lord, a foole that the Ladie
Oliuiaes Father tooke much delight in. He is about the
house
Du. Seeke him out, and play the tune the while.
Musicke playes.
Come hither Boy, if euer thou shalt loue
In the sweet pangs of it, remember me:
For such as I am, all true Louers are,
Vnstaid and skittish in all motions else,
Saue in the constant image of the creature
That is belou'd. How dost thou like this tune?
Vio. It giues a verie eccho to the seate
Where loue is thron'd
Du. Thou dost speake masterly,
My life vpon't, yong though thou art, thine eye
Hath staid vpon some fauour that it loues:
Hath it not boy?
Vio. A little, by your fauour
Du. What kinde of woman ist?
Vio. Of your complection
Du. She is not worth thee then. What yeares ifaith?
Vio. About your yeeres my Lord
Du. Too old by heauen: Let still the woman take
An elder then her selfe, so weares she to him;
So swayes she leuell in her husbands heart:
For boy, howeuer we do praise our selues,
Our fancies are more giddie and vnfirme,
More longing, wauering, sooner lost and worne,
Then womens are
Vio. I thinke it well my Lord
Du. Then let thy Loue be yonger then thy selfe,
Or thy affection cannot hold the bent:
For women are as Roses, whose faire flowre
Being once displaid, doth fall that verie howre
Vio. And so they are: alas, that they are so:
To die, euen when they to perfection grow.
Enter Curio & Clowne.
Du. O fellow come, the song we had last night:
Marke it Cesario, it is old and plaine;
The Spinsters and the Knitters in the Sun,
And the free maides that weaue their thred with bones,
Do vse to chaunt it: it is silly sooth,
And dallies with the innocence of loue,
Like the old age
Clo. Are you ready Sir?
Duke. I prethee sing.
Musicke.
The Song.
Come away, come away death,
And in sad cypresse let me be laide.
Fye away, fie away breath,
I am slaine by a faire cruell maide:
My shrowd of white, stuck all with Ew, O prepare it.
My part of death no one so true did share it.
Not a flower, not a flower sweete
On my blacke coffin, let there be strewne:
Not a friend, not a friend greet
My poore corpes, where my bones shall be throwne:
A thousand thousand sighes to saue, lay me o where
Sad true louer neuer find my graue, to weepe there
Du. There's for thy paines
Clo. No paines sir, I take pleasure in singing sir
Du. Ile pay thy pleasure then
Clo. Truely sir, and pleasure will be paide one time, or another
Du. Giue me now leaue, to leaue thee
Clo. Now the melancholly God protect thee, and the Tailor make thy doublet of changeable Taffata, for thy minde is a very Opall. I would haue men of such constancie put to Sea, that their businesse might be euery thing, and their intent euerie where, for that's it, that alwayes makes a good voyage of nothing. Farewell.
Exit
Du. Let all the rest giue place: Once more Cesario,
Get thee to yond same soueraigne crueltie:
Tell her my loue, more noble then the world
Prizes not quantitie of dirtie lands,
The parts that fortune hath bestow'd vpon her:
Tell her I hold as giddily as Fortune:
But 'tis that miracle, and Queene of Iems
That nature prankes her in, attracts my soule
Vio. But if she cannot loue you sir
Du. It cannot be so answer'd
Vio. Sooth but you must.
Say that some Lady, as perhappes there is,
Hath for your loue as great a pang of heart
As you haue for Oliuia: you cannot loue her:
You tel her so: Must she not then be answer'd?
Du. There is no womans sides
Can bide the beating of so strong a passion,
As loue doth giue my heart: no womans heart
So bigge, to hold so much, they lacke retention.
Alas, their loue may be call'd appetite,
No motion of the Liuer, but the Pallat,
That suffer surfet, cloyment, and reuolt,
But mine is all as hungry as the Sea,
And can digest as much, make no compare
Betweene that loue a woman can beare me,
And that I owe Oliuia
Vio. I but I know
Du. What dost thou knowe?
Vio. Too well what loue women to men may owe:
In faith they are as true of heart, as we.
My Father had a daughter lou'd a man
As it might be perhaps, were I a woman
I should your Lordship
Du. And what's her history?
Vio. A blanke my Lord: she neuer told her loue,
But let concealment like a worme i'th budde
Feede on her damaske cheeke: she pin'd in thought,
And with a greene and yellow melancholly,
She sate like Patience on a Monument,
Smiling at greefe. Was not this loue indeede?
We men may say more, sweare more, but indeed
Our shewes are more then will: for still we proue
Much in our vowes, but little in our loue
Du. But di'de thy sister of her loue my Boy?
Vio. I am all the daughters of my Fathers house,
And all the brothers too: and yet I know not.
Sir, shall I to this Lady?
Du. I that's the Theame,
To her in haste: giue her this Iewell: say,
My loue can giue no place, bide no denay.
Exeunt.
Scena Quinta.
Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian.
To. Come thy wayes Signior Fabian
Fab. Nay Ile come: if I loose a scruple of this sport,
let me be boyl'd to death with Melancholly
To. Wouldst thou not be glad to haue the niggardly
Rascally sheepe-biter, come by some notable shame?
Fa. I would exult man: you know he brought me out
o' fauour with my Lady, about a Beare-baiting heere
To. To anger him wee'l haue the Beare againe, and
we will foole him blacke and blew, shall we not sir Andrew?
An. And we do not, it is pittie of our liues.
Enter Maria.
To. Heere comes the little villaine: How now my Mettle of India? Mar. Get ye all three into the box tree: Maluolio's comming downe this walke, he has beene yonder i'the Sunne practising behauiour to his own shadow this halfe houre: obserue him for the loue of Mockerie: for I know this Letter wil make a contemplatiue Ideot of him. Close in the name of ieasting, lye thou there: for heere comes the Trowt, that must be caught with tickling.
Exit
Enter Maluolio.
Mal. 'Tis but Fortune, all is fortune. Maria once told me she did affect me, and I haue heard her self come thus neere, that should shee fancie, it should bee one of my complection. Besides she vses me with a more exalted respect, then any one else that followes her. What should I thinke on't? To. Heere's an ouer-weening rogue
Fa. Oh peace: Contemplation makes a rare Turkey
Cocke of him, how he iets vnder his aduanc'd plumes
And. Slight I could so beate the Rogue
To. Peace I say
Mal. To be Count Maluolio
To. Ah Rogue
An. Pistoll him, pistoll him
To. Peace, peace
Mal. There is example for't: The Lady of the Strachy, married the yeoman of the wardrobe
An. Fie on him Iezabel
Fa. O peace, now he's deepely in: looke how imagination
blowes him
Mal. Hauing beene three moneths married to her,
sitting in my state
To. O for a stone-bow to hit him in the eye
Mal. Calling my Officers about me, in my branch'd Veluet gowne: hauing come from a day bedde, where I haue left Oliuia sleeping
To. Fire and Brimstone
Fa. O peace, peace
Mal. And then to haue the humor of state: and after a demure trauaile of regard: telling them I knowe my place, as I would they should doe theirs: to aske for my kinsman Toby
To. Boltes and shackles
Fa. Oh peace, peace, peace, now, now
Mal. Seauen of my people with an obedient start, make out for him: I frowne the while, and perchance winde vp my watch, or play with my some rich Iewell: Toby approaches; curtsies there to me
To. Shall this fellow liue?
Fa. Though our silence be drawne from vs with cars,
yet peace
Mal. I extend my hand to him thus: quenching my
familiar smile with an austere regard of controll
To. And do's not Toby take you a blow o'the lippes,
then?
Mal. Saying, Cosine Toby, my Fortunes hauing cast
me on your Neece, giue me this prerogatiue of speech
To. What, what?
Mal. You must amend your drunkennesse
To. Out scab
Fab. Nay patience, or we breake the sinewes of our
plot?
Mal. Besides you waste the treasure of your time,
with a foolish knight
And. That's mee I warrant you
Mal. One sir Andrew
And. I knew 'twas I, for many do call mee foole
Mal. What employment haue we heere?
Fa. Now is the Woodcocke neere the gin
To. Oh peace, and the spirit of humors intimate reading
aloud to him
Mal. By my life this is my Ladies hand: these bee her very C's, her V's, and her T's, and thus makes shee her great P's. It is in contempt of question her hand
An. Her C's, her V's, and her T's: why that?
Mal. To the vnknowne belou'd, this, and my good Wishes:
Her very Phrases: By your leaue wax. Soft, and the impressure
her Lucrece, with which she vses to seale: tis my
Lady: To whom should this be?
Fab. This winnes him, Liuer and all
Mal. Ioue knowes I loue, but who, Lips do not mooue, no
man must know. No man must know. What followes?
The numbers alter'd: No man must know,
If this should be thee Maluolio?
To. Marrie hang thee brocke
Mal. I may command where I adore, but silence like a Lucresse
knife:
With bloodlesse stroke my heart doth gore, M.O.A.I. doth
sway my life
Fa. A fustian riddle
To. Excellent Wench, say I
Mal. M.O.A.I. doth sway my life. Nay but first let me see, let me see, let me see
Fab. What dish a poyson has she drest him? To. And with what wing the stallion checkes at it? Mal. I may command, where I adore: Why shee may command me: I serue her, she is my Ladie. Why this is euident to any formall capacitie. There is no obstruction in this, and the end: What should that Alphabeticall position portend, if I could make that resemble something in me? Softly, M.O.A.I
To. O I, make vp that, he is now at a cold sent
Fab. Sowter will cry vpon't for all this, though it bee as ranke as a Fox
Mal. M. Maluolio, M. why that begins my name
Fab. Did not I say he would worke it out, the Curre is excellent at faults
Mal. M. But then there is no consonancy in the sequell that suffers vnder probation: A. should follow, but O. does
Fa. And O shall end, I hope
To. I, or Ile cudgell him, and make him cry O
Mal. And then I. comes behind
Fa. I, and you had any eye behinde you, you might see more detraction at your heeles, then Fortunes before you
Mal. M,O,A,I. This simulation is not as the former: and yet to crush this a little, it would bow to mee, for euery one of these Letters are in my name. Soft, here followes prose: If this fall into thy hand, reuolue. In my stars I am aboue thee, but be not affraid of greatnesse: Some are become great, some atcheeues greatnesse, and some haue greatnesse thrust vppon em. Thy fates open theyr hands, let thy blood and spirit embrace them, and to invre thy selfe to what thou art like to be: cast thy humble slough, and appeare fresh. Be opposite with a kinsman, surly with seruants: Let thy tongue tang arguments of state; put thy selfe into the tricke of singularitie. Shee thus aduises thee, that sighes for thee. Remember who commended thy yellow stockings, and wish'd to see thee euer crosse garter'd: I say remember, goe too, thou art made if thou desir'st to be so: If not, let me see thee a steward still, the fellow of seruants, and not woorthie to touch Fortunes fingers Farewell, Shee that would alter seruices with thee, the fortunate vnhappy daylight and champian discouers not more: This is open, I will bee proud, I will reade politicke Authours, I will baffle Sir Toby, I will wash off grosse acquaintance, I will be point deuise, the very man. I do not now foole my selfe, to let imagination iade mee; for euery reason excites to this, that my Lady loues me. She did commend my yellow stockings of late, shee did praise my legge being crosse-garter'd, and in this she manifests her selfe to my loue, & with a kinde of iniunction driues mee to these habites of her liking. I thanke my starres, I am happy: I will bee strange, stout, in yellow stockings, and crosse Garter'd, euen with the swiftnesse of putting on. Ioue, and my starres be praised. Heere is yet a postscript. Thou canst not choose but know who I am. If thou entertainst my loue, let it appeare in thy smiling, thy smiles become thee well. Therefore in my presence still smile, deero my sweete, I prethee. Ioue I thanke thee, I will smile, I wil do euery thing that thou wilt haue me.
Exit
Fab. I will not giue my part of this sport for a pension of thousands to be paid from the Sophy
To. I could marry this wench for this deuice
An. So could I too
To. And aske no other dowry with her, but such another
iest.
Enter Maria.
An. Nor I neither
Fab. Heere comes my noble gull catcher
To. Wilt thou set thy foote o'my necke
An. Or o'mine either?
To. Shall I play my freedome at tray-trip, and becom
thy bondslaue?
An. Ifaith, or I either?
Tob. Why, thou hast put him in such a dreame, that
when the image of it leaues him, he must run mad
Ma. Nay but say true, do's it worke vpon him?
To. Like Aqua vite with a Midwife
Mar. If you will then see the fruites of the sport, mark his first approach before my Lady: hee will come to her in yellow stockings, and 'tis a colour she abhorres, and crosse garter'd, a fashion shee detests: and hee will smile vpon her, which will now be so vnsuteable to her disposition, being addicted to a melancholly, as shee is, that it cannot but turn him into a notable contempt: if you wil see it follow me
To. To the gates of Tartar, thou most excellent diuell of wit
And. Ile make one too.
Exeunt.
Finis Actus secundus
Actus Tertius, Scaena prima.
Enter Viola and Clowne.
Vio. Saue thee Friend and thy Musick: dost thou liue
by thy Tabor?
Clo. No sir, I liue by the Church
Vio. Art thou a Churchman?
Clo. No such matter sir, I do liue by the Church: For,
I do liue at my house, and my house dooth stand by the
Church
Vio. So thou maist say the Kings lyes by a begger, if a begger dwell neer him: or the Church stands by thy Tabor, if thy Tabor stand by the Church
Clo. You haue said sir: To see this age: A sentence is but a cheu'rill gloue to a good witte, how quickely the wrong side may be turn'd outward
Vio. Nay that's certaine: they that dally nicely with words, may quickely make them wanton
Clo. I would therefore my sister had had no name Sir
Vio. Why man?
Clo. Why sir, her names a word, and to dallie with
that word, might make my sister wanton: But indeede,
words are very Rascals, since bonds disgrac'd them
Vio. Thy reason man?
Clo. Troth sir, I can yeeld you none without wordes,
and wordes are growne so false, I am loath to proue reason
with them
Vio. I warrant thou art a merry fellow, and car'st for
nothing
Clo. Not so sir, I do care for something: but in my conscience sir, I do not care for you: if that be to care for nothing sir, I would it would make you inuisible
Vio. Art not thou the Lady Oliuia's foole? Clo. No indeed sir, the Lady Oliuia has no folly, shee will keepe no foole sir, till she be married, and fooles are as like husbands, as Pilchers are to Herrings, the Husbands the bigger, I am indeede not her foole, but hir corrupter of words
Vio. I saw thee late at the Count Orsino's
Clo. Foolery sir, does walke about the Orbe like the
Sun, it shines euery where. I would be sorry sir, but the
Foole should be as oft with your Master, as with my Mistris:
I thinke I saw your wisedome there
Vio. Nay, and thou passe vpon me, Ile no more with
thee. Hold there's expences for thee
Clo. Now Ioue in his next commodity of hayre, send
thee a beard
Vio. By my troth Ile tell thee, I am almost sicke for
one, though I would not haue it grow on my chinne. Is
thy Lady within?
Clo Would not a paire of these haue bred sir?
Vio. Yes being kept together, and put to vse
Clo. I would play Lord Pandarus of Phrygia sir, to bring
a Cressida to this Troylus
Vio. I vnderstand you sir, tis well begg'd
Clo. The matter I hope is not great sir; begging, but a begger: Cressida was a begger. My Lady is within sir. I will conster to them whence you come, who you are, and what you would are out of my welkin, I might say Element, but the word is ouer-worne.
Exit
Vio. This fellow is wise enough to play the foole,
And to do that well, craues a kinde of wit:
He must obserue their mood on whom he iests,
The quality of persons, and the time:
And like the Haggard, checke at euery Feather
That comes before his eye. This is a practice,
As full of labour as a Wise-mans Art:
For folly that he wisely shewes, is fit;
But wisemens folly falne, quite taint their wit.
Enter Sir Toby and Andrew.
To. Saue you Gentleman
Vio. And you sir
And. Dieu vou guard Monsieur
Vio. Et vouz ousie vostre seruiture
An. I hope sir, you are, and I am yours
To. Will you incounter the house, my Neece is desirous
you should enter, if your trade be to her
Vio. I am bound to your Neece sir, I meane she is the
list of my voyage
To. Taste your legges sir, put them to motion
Vio. My legges do better vnderstand me sir, then I vnderstand what you meane by bidding me taste my legs
To. I meane to go sir, to enter
Vio. I will answer you with gate and entrance, but we
are preuented.
Enter Oliuia, and Gentlewoman.
Most excellent accomplish'd Lady, the heauens raine Odours on you
And. That youth's a rare Courtier, raine odours, wel
Vio. My matter hath no voice Lady, but to your owne
most pregnant and vouchsafed eare
And. Odours, pregnant, and vouchsafed: Ile get 'em
all three already
Ol. Let the Garden doore be shut, and leaue mee to
my hearing. Giue me your hand sir
Vio. My dutie Madam, and most humble seruice
Ol. What is your name?
Vio. Cesario is your seruants name, faire Princesse
Ol. My seruant sir? 'Twas neuer merry world,
Since lowly feigning was call'd complement:
Y'are seruant to the Count Orsino youth
Vio. And he is yours, and his must needs be yours:
Your seruants seruant, is your seruant Madam
Ol. For him, I thinke not on him: for his thoughts,
Would they were blankes, rather then fill'd with me
Vio. Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts
On his behalfe
Ol. O by your leaue I pray you.
I bad you neuer speake againe of him;
But would you vndertake another suite
I had rather heare you, to solicit that,
Then Musicke from the spheares
Vio. Deere Lady
Ol. Giue me leaue, beseech you: I did send,
After the last enchantment you did heare,
A Ring in chace of you. So did I abuse
My selfe, my seruant, and I feare me you:
Vnder your hard construction must I sit,
To force that on you in a shamefull cunning
Which you knew none of yours. What might you think?
Haue you not set mine Honor at the stake,
And baited it with all th' vnmuzled thoughts
That tyrannous heart can think? To one of your receiuing
Enough is shewne, a Cipresse, not a bosome,
Hides my heart: so let me heare you speake
Vio. I pittie you
Ol. That's a degree to loue
Vio. No not a grize: for tis a vulgar proofe
That verie oft we pitty enemies
Ol. Why then me thinkes 'tis time to smile agen:
O world, how apt the poore are to be proud?
If one should be a prey, how much the better
To fall before the Lion, then the Wolfe?
Clocke strikes.
The clocke vpbraides me with the waste of time:
Be not affraid good youth, I will not haue you,
And yet when wit and youth is come to haruest,
Your wife is like to reape a proper man:
There lies your way, due West
Vio. Then Westward hoe:
Grace and good disposition attend your Ladyship:
You'l nothing Madam to my Lord, by me:
Ol. Stay: I prethee tell me what thou thinkst of me?
Vio. That you do thinke you are not what you are
Ol. If I thinke so, I thinke the same of you
Vio. Then thinke you right: I am not what I am
Ol. I would you were, as I would haue you be
Vio. Would it be better Madam, then I am?
I wish it might, for now I am your foole
Ol. O what a deale of scorne, lookes beautifull?
In the contempt and anger of his lip,
A murdrous guilt shewes not it selfe more soone,
Then loue that would seeme hid: Loues night, is noone.
Cesario, by the Roses of the Spring,
By maid-hood, honor, truth, and euery thing,
I loue thee so, that maugre all thy pride,
Nor wit, nor reason, can my passion hide:
Do not extort thy reasons from this clause,
For that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause:
But rather reason thus, with reason fetter;
Loue sought, is good: but giuen vnsought, is better
Vio. By innocence I sweare, and by my youth,
I haue one heart, one bosome, and one truth,
And that no woman has, nor neuer none
Shall mistris be of it, saue I alone.
And so adieu good Madam, neuer more,
Will I my Masters teares to you deplore
Ol. Yet come againe: for thou perhaps mayst moue
That heart which now abhorres, to like his loue.
Exeunt.
Scoena Secunda.
Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian.
And. No faith, Ile not stay a iot longer:
To. Thy reason deere venom, giue thy reason
Fab. You must needes yeelde your reason, Sir Andrew?
And. Marry I saw your Neece do more fauours to the
Counts Seruing-man, then euer she bestow'd vpon mee:
I saw't i'th Orchard
To. Did she see the while, old boy, tell me that
And. As plaine as I see you now
Fab. This was a great argument of loue in her toward you
And. S'light; will you make an Asse o'me
Fab. I will proue it legitimate sir, vpon the Oathes of
iudgement, and reason
To. And they haue beene grand Iurie men, since before
Noah was a Saylor
Fab. Shee did shew fauour to the youth in your sight, onely to exasperate you, to awake your dormouse valour, to put fire in your Heart, and brimstone in your Liuer: you should then haue accosted her, and with some excellent iests, fire-new from the mint, you should haue bangd the youth into dumbenesse: this was look'd for at your hand, and this was baulkt: the double gilt of this opportunitie you let time wash off, and you are now sayld into the North of my Ladies opinion, where you will hang like an ysickle on a Dutchmans beard, vnlesse you do redeeme it, by some laudable attempt, either of valour or policie
And. And't be any way, it must be with Valour, for policie I hate: I had as liefe be a Brownist, as a Politician
To. Why then build me thy fortunes vpon the basis of valour. Challenge me the Counts youth to fight with him hurt him in eleuen places, my Neece shall take note of it, and assure thy selfe, there is no loue-Broker in the world, can more preuaile in mans commendation with woman, then report of valour
Fab. There is no way but this sir Andrew
An. Will either of you beare me a challenge to him? To. Go, write it in a martial hand, be curst and briefe: it is no matter how wittie, so it bee eloquent, and full of inuention: taunt him with the license of Inke: if thou thou'st him some thrice, it shall not be amisse, and as many Lyes, as will lye in thy sheete of paper, although the sheete were bigge enough for the bedde of Ware in England, set 'em downe, go about it. Let there bee gaulle enough in thy inke, though thou write with a Goose-pen, no matter: about it
And. Where shall I finde you?
To. Wee'l call thee at the Cubiculo: Go.
Exit Sir Andrew.
Fa. This is a deere Manakin to you Sir Toby
To. I haue beene deere to him lad, some two thousand
strong, or so
Fa. We shall haue a rare Letter from him; but you'le
not deliuer't
To. Neuer trust me then: and by all meanes stirre on the youth to an answer. I thinke Oxen and waine-ropes cannot hale them together. For Andrew, if he were open'd and you finde so much blood in his Liuer, as will clog the foote of a flea, Ile eate the rest of th' anatomy
Fab. And his opposit the youth beares in his visage no great presage of cruelty. Enter Maria.
To. Looke where the youngest Wren of mine comes
Mar. If you desire the spleene, and will laughe your selues into stitches, follow me; yond gull Maluolio is turned Heathen, a verie Renegatho; for there is no christian that meanes to be saued by beleeuing rightly, can euer beleeue such impossible passages of grossenesse. Hee's in yellow stockings
To. And crosse garter'd? Mar. Most villanously: like a Pedant that keepes a Schoole i'th Church: I haue dogg'd him like his murtherer. He does obey euery point of the Letter that I dropt, to betray him: He does smile his face into more lynes, then is in the new Mappe, with the augmentation of the Indies: you haue not seene such a thing as tis: I can hardly forbeare hurling things at him, I know my Ladie will strike him: if shee doe, hee'l smile, and take't for a great fauour
To. Come bring vs, bring vs where he is.
Exeunt. Omnes.
Scaena Tertia.
Enter Sebastian and Anthonio.
Seb. I would not by my will haue troubled you,
But since you make your pleasure of your paines,
I will no further chide you
Ant. I could not stay behinde you: my desire
(More sharpe then filed steele) did spurre me forth,
And not all loue to see you (though so much
As might haue drawne one to a longer voyage)
But iealousie, what might befall your trauell,
Being skillesse in these parts: which to a stranger,
Vnguided, and vnfriended, often proue
Rough, and vnhospitable. My willing loue,
The rather by these arguments of feare
Set forth in your pursuite
Seb. My kinde Anthonio,
I can no other answer make, but thankes,
And thankes: and euer oft good turnes,
Are shuffel'd off with such vncurrant pay:
But were my worth, as is my conscience firme,
You should finde better dealing: what's to do?
Shall we go see the reliques of this Towne?
Ant. To morrow sir, best first go see your Lodging?
Seb. I am not weary, and 'tis long to night
I pray you let vs satisfie our eyes
With the memorials, and the things of fame
That do renowne this City
Ant. Would youl'd pardon me:
I do not without danger walke these streetes.
Once in a sea-fight 'gainst the Count his gallies,
I did some seruice, of such note indeede,
That were I tane heere, it would scarse be answer'd
Seb. Belike you slew great number of his people
Ant. Th' offence is not of such a bloody nature,
Albeit the quality of the time, and quarrell
Might well haue giuen vs bloody argument:
It might haue since bene answer'd in repaying
What we tooke from them, which for Traffiques sake
Most of our City did. Onely my selfe stood out,
For which if I be lapsed in this place
I shall pay deere
Seb. Do not then walke too open
Ant. It doth not fit me: hold sir, here's my purse,
In the South Suburbes at the Elephant
Is best to lodge: I will bespeake our dyet,
Whiles you beguile the time, and feed your knowledge
With viewing of the Towne, there shall you haue me
Seb. Why I your purse?
Ant. Haply your eye shall light vpon some toy
You haue desire to purchase: and your store
I thinke is not for idle Markets, sir
Seb. Ile be your purse-bearer, and leaue you
For an houre
Ant. To th' Elephant
Seb. I do remember.
Exeunt.
Scoena Quarta.
Enter Oliuia and Maria.
Ol. I haue sent after him, he sayes hee'l come:
How shall I feast him? What bestow of him?
For youth is bought more oft, then begg'd, or borrow'd.
I speake too loud: Where's Maluolio, he is sad, and ciuill,
And suites well for a seruant with my fortunes,
Where is Maluolio?
Mar. He's comming Madame:
But in very strange manner. He is sure possest Madam
Ol. Why what's the matter, does he raue?
Mar. No Madam, he does nothing but smile: your Ladyship
were best to haue some guard about you, if hee
come, for sure the man is tainted in's wits
Ol. Go call him hither.
Enter Maluolio.
I am as madde as hee,
If sad and merry madnesse equall bee.
How now Maluolio?
Mal. Sweet Lady, ho, ho
Ol. Smil'st thou? I sent for thee vpon a sad occasion
Mal. Sad Lady, I could be sad:
This does make some obstruction in the blood:
This crosse-gartering, but what of that?
If it please the eye of one, it is with me as the very true
Sonnet is: Please one, and please all
Mal. Why how doest thou man? What is the matter with thee? Mal. Not blacke in my minde, though yellow in my legges: It did come to his hands, and Commaunds shall be executed. I thinke we doe know the sweet Romane hand
Ol. Wilt thou go to bed Maluolio?
Mal. To bed? I sweet heart, and Ile come to thee
Ol. God comfort thee: Why dost thou smile so, and
kisse thy hand so oft?
Mar. How do you Maluolio?
Maluo. At your request:
Yes Nightingales answere Dawes
Mar. Why appeare you with this ridiculous boldnesse
before my Lady
Mal. Be not afraid of greatnesse: 'twas well writ
Ol. What meanst thou by that Maluolio?
Mal. Some are borne great
Ol. Ha?
Mal. Some atcheeue greatnesse
Ol. What sayst thou?
Mal. And some haue greatnesse thrust vpon them
Ol. Heauen restore thee
Mal. Remember who commended thy yellow stockings
Ol. Thy yellow stockings?
Mal. And wish'd to see thee crosse garter'd
Ol. Crosse garter'd?
Mal. Go too, thou art made, if thou desir'st to be so
Ol. Am I made?
Mal. If not, let me see thee a seruant still
Ol. Why this is verie Midsommer madnesse.
Enter Seruant.
Ser. Madame, the young Gentleman of the Count Orsino's is return'd, I could hardly entreate him backe: he attends your Ladyships pleasure
Ol. Ile come to him. Good Maria, let this fellow be look'd too. Where's my Cosine Toby, let some of my people haue a speciall care of him, I would not haue him miscarrie for the halfe of my Dowry.
Exit
Mal. Oh ho, do you come neere me now: no worse man then sir Toby to looke to me. This concurres directly with the Letter, she sends him on purpose, that I may appeare stubborne to him: for she incites me to that in the Letter. Cast thy humble slough sayes she: be opposite with a Kinsman, surly with seruants, let thy tongue langer with arguments of state, put thy selfe into the tricke of singularity: and consequently setts downe the manner how: as a sad face, a reuerend carriage, a slow tongue, in the habite of some Sir of note, and so foorth. I haue lymde her, but it is Ioues doing, and Ioue make me thankefull. And when she went away now, let this Fellow be look'd too: Fellow? not Maluolio, nor after my degree, but Fellow. Why euery thing adheres togither, that no dramme of a scruple, no scruple of a scruple, no obstacle, no incredulous or vnsafe circumstance: What can be saide? Nothing that can be, can come betweene me, and the full prospect of my hopes. Well Ioue, not I, is the doer of this, and he is to be thanked. Enter Toby, Fabian, and Maria.
To. Which way is hee in the name of sanctity. If all the diuels of hell be drawne in little, and Legion himselfe possest him, yet Ile speake to him
Fab. Heere he is, heere he is: how ist with you sir?
How ist with you man?
Mal. Go off, I discard you: let me enioy my priuate:
go off
Mar. Lo, how hollow the fiend speakes within him; did not I tell you? Sir Toby, my Lady prayes you to haue a care of him
Mal. Ah ha, does she so? To. Go too, go too: peace, peace, wee must deale gently with him: Let me alone. How do you Maluolio? How ist with you? What man, defie the diuell: consider, he's an enemy to mankinde
Mal. Do you know what you say?
Mar. La you, and you speake ill of the diuell, how
he takes it at heart. Pray God he be not bewitch'd
Fab. Carry his water to th' wise woman
Mar. Marry and it shall be done to morrow morning if I liue. My Lady would not loose him for more then ile say
Mal. How now mistris?
Mar. Oh Lord
To. Prethee hold thy peace, this is not the way: Doe
you not see you moue him? Let me alone with him
Fa. No way but gentlenesse, gently, gently: the Fiend
is rough, and will not be roughly vs'd
To. Why how now my bawcock? how dost y chuck?
Mal. Sir
To. I biddy, come with me. What man, tis not for grauity to play at cherrie-pit with sathan Hang him foul Colliar
Mar. Get him to say his prayers, good sir Toby gette him to pray
Mal. My prayers Minx
Mar. No I warrant you, he will not heare of godlynesse
Mal. Go hang your selues all: you are ydle shallowe things, I am not of your element, you shall knowe more heereafter.
Exit
To. Ist possible?
Fa. If this were plaid vpon a stage now, I could condemne
it as an improbable fiction
To. His very genius hath taken the infection of the
deuice man
Mar. Nay pursue him now, least the deuice take ayre,
and taint
Fa. Why we shall make him mad indeede
Mar. The house will be the quieter
To. Come, wee'l haue him in a darke room & bound. My Neece is already in the beleefe that he's mad: we may carry it thus for our pleasure, and his pennance, til our very pastime tyred out of breath, prompt vs to haue mercy on him: at which time, we wil bring the deuice to the bar and crowne thee for a finder of madmen: but see, but see. Enter Sir Andrew.
Fa. More matter for a May morning
An. Heere's the Challenge, reade it: I warrant there's
vinegar and pepper in't
Fab. Ist so sawcy?
And. I, ist? I warrant him: do but read
To. Giue me.
Youth, whatsoeuer thou art, thou art but a scuruy fellow
Fa. Good, and valiant
To. Wonder not, nor admire not in thy minde why I doe call
thee so, for I will shew thee no reason for't
Fa. A good note, that keepes you from the blow of y Law
To. Thou comst to the Lady Oliuia, and in my sight she vses
thee kindly: but thou lyest in thy throat, that is not the matter
I challenge thee for
Fa. Very breefe, and to exceeding good sence-lesse
To. I will way-lay thee going home, where if it be thy chance to kill me
Fa. Good
To. Thou kilst me like a rogue and a villaine
Fa. Still you keepe o'th windie side of the Law: good
Tob. Fartheewell, and God haue mercie vpon one of our soules. He may haue mercie vpon mine, but my hope is better, and so looke to thy selfe. Thy friend as thou vsest him, & thy sworne enemie, Andrew Ague-cheeke
To. If this Letter moue him not, his legges cannot:
Ile giu't him
Mar. You may haue verie fit occasion for't: he is now in some commerce with my Ladie, and will by and by depart
To. Go sir Andrew: scout mee for him at the corner of the Orchard like a bum-Baylie: so soone as euer thou seest him, draw, and as thou draw'st, sweare horrible: for it comes to passe oft, that a terrible oath, with a swaggering accent sharpely twang'd off, giues manhoode more approbation, then euer proofe it selfe would haue earn'd him. Away
And. Nay let me alone for swearing.
Exit
To. Now will not I deliuer his Letter: for the behauiour of the yong Gentleman, giues him out to be of good capacity, and breeding: his employment betweene his Lord and my Neece, confirmes no lesse. Therefore, this Letter being so excellently ignorant, will breed no terror in the youth: he will finde it comes from a Clodde-pole. But sir, I will deliuer his Challenge by word of mouth; set vpon Ague-cheeke a notable report of valor, and driue the Gentleman (as I know his youth will aptly receiue it) into a most hideous opinion of his rage, skill, furie, and impetuositie. This will so fright them both, that they wil kill one another by the looke, like Cockatrices. Enter Oliuia and Viola.
Fab. Heere he comes with your Neece, giue them way
till he take leaue, and presently after him
To. I wil meditate the while vpon some horrid message
for a Challenge
Ol. I haue said too much vnto a hart of stone,
And laid mine honour too vnchary on't:
There's something in me that reproues my fault:
But such a head-strong potent fault it is,
That it but mockes reproofe
Vio. With the same hauiour that your passion beares,
Goes on my Masters greefes
Ol. Heere, weare this Iewell for me, tis my picture:
Refuse it not, it hath no tongue, to vex you:
And I beseech you come againe to morrow.
What shall you aske of me that Ile deny,
That honour (sau'd) may vpon asking giue
Vio. Nothing but this, your true loue for my master
Ol. How with mine honor may I giue him that,
Which I haue giuen to you
Vio. I will acquit you
Ol. Well, come againe to morrow: far-thee-well,
A Fiend like thee might beare my soule to hell.
Enter Toby and Fabian.
To. Gentleman, God saue thee
Vio. And you sir
To. That defence thou hast, betake the too't: of what nature the wrongs are thou hast done him, I knowe not: but thy intercepter full of despight, bloody as the Hunter, attends thee at the Orchard end: dismount thy tucke, be yare in thy preparation, for thy assaylant is quick, skilfull, and deadly
Vio. You mistake sir I am sure, no man hath any quarrell to me: my remembrance is very free and cleere from any image of offence done to any man
To. You'l finde it otherwise I assure you: therefore, if you hold your life at any price, betake you to your gard: for your opposite hath in him what youth, strength, skill, and wrath, can furnish man withall
Vio. I pray you sir what is he? To. He is knight dubb'd with vnhatch'd Rapier, and on carpet consideration, but he is a diuell in priuate brall, soules and bodies hath he diuorc'd three, and his incensement at this moment is so implacable, that satisfaction can be none, but by pangs of death and sepulcher: Hob, nob, is his word: giu't or take't
Vio. I will returne againe into the house, and desire some conduct of the Lady. I am no fighter, I haue heard of some kinde of men, that put quarrells purposely on others, to taste their valour: belike this is a man of that quirke
To. Sir, no: his indignation deriues it selfe out of a very computent iniurie, therefore get you on, and giue him his desire. Backe you shall not to the house, vnlesse you vndertake that with me, which with as much safetie you might answer him: therefore on, or strippe your sword starke naked: for meddle you must that's certain, or forsweare to weare iron about you
Vio. This is as vnciuill as strange. I beseech you doe me this courteous office, as to know of the Knight what my offence to him is: it is something of my negligence, nothing of my purpose
To. I will doe so. Signiour Fabian, stay you by this
Gentleman, till my returne.
Exit Toby.
Vio. Pray you sir, do you know of this matter?
Fab. I know the knight is incenst against you, euen to
a mortall arbitrement, but nothing of the circumstance
more
Vio. I beseech you what manner of man is he? Fab. Nothing of that wonderfull promise to read him by his forme, as you are like to finde him in the proofe of his valour. He is indeede sir, the most skilfull, bloudy, & fatall opposite that you could possibly haue found in anie part of Illyria: will you walke towards him, I will make your peace with him, if I can
Vio. I shall bee much bound to you for't: I am one, that had rather go with sir Priest, then sir knight: I care not who knowes so much of my mettle.
Exeunt.
Enter Toby and Andrew.
To. Why man hee s a verie diuell, I haue not seen such a firago: I had a passe with him, rapier, scabberd, and all: and he giues me the stucke in with such a mortall motion that it is ineuitable: and on the answer, he payes you as surely, as your feete hits the ground they step on. They say, he has bin Fencer to the Sophy
And. Pox on't, Ile not meddle with him
To. I but he will not now be pacified,
Fabian can scarse hold him yonder
An. Plague on't, and I thought he had beene valiant,
and so cunning in Fence, I'de haue seene him damn'd ere
I'de haue challeng'd him. Let him let the matter slip, and
Ile giue him my horse, gray Capilet
To. Ile make the motion: stand heere, make a good shew on't, this shall end without the perdition of soules, marry Ile ride your horse as well as I ride you. Enter Fabian and Viola.
I haue his horse to take vp the quarrell, I haue perswaded him the youths a diuell
Fa. He is as horribly conceited of him: and pants, &
lookes pale, as if a Beare were at his heeles
To. There's no remedie sir, he will fight with you for's oath sake: marrie hee hath better bethought him of his quarrell, and hee findes that now scarse to bee worth talking of: therefore draw for the supportance of his vowe, he protests he will not hurt you
Vio. Pray God defend me: a little thing would make me tell them how much I lacke of a man
Fab. Giue ground if you see him furious
To. Come sir Andrew, there's no remedie, the Gentleman will for his honors sake haue one bowt with you: he cannot by the Duello auoide it: but hee has promised me, as he is a Gentleman and a Soldiour, he will not hurt you. Come on, too't
And. Pray God he keepe his oath.
Enter Antonio.
Vio. I do assure you tis against my will
Ant. Put vp your sword: if this yong Gentleman
Haue done offence, I take the fault on me:
If you offend him, I for him defie you
To. You sir? Why, what are you?
Ant. One sir, that for his loue dares yet do more
Then you haue heard him brag to you he will
To. Nay, if you be an vndertaker, I am for you.
Enter Officers.
Fab. O good sir Toby hold: heere come the Officers
To. Ile be with you anon
Vio. Pray sir, put your sword vp if you please
And. Marry will I sir: and for that I promis'd you Ile be as good as my word. Hee will beare you easily, and raines well
1.Off. This is the man, do thy Office
2.Off. Anthonio, I arrest thee at the suit of Count Orsino An. You do mistake me sir
1.Off. No sir, no iot: I know your fauour well: Though now you haue no sea-cap on your head: Take him away, he knowes I know him well
Ant. I must obey. This comes with seeking you:
But there's no remedie, I shall answer it:
What will you do: now my necessitie
Makes me to aske you for my purse. It greeues mee
Much more, for what I cannot do for you,
Then what befals my selfe: you stand amaz'd,
But be of comfort
2.Off. Come sir away
Ant. I must entreat of you some of that money
Vio. What money sir?
For the fayre kindnesse you haue shew'd me heere,
And part being prompted by your present trouble,
Out of my leane and low ability
Ile lend you something: my hauing is not much,
Ile make diuision of my present with you:
Hold, there's halfe my Coffer
Ant. Will you deny me now,
Ist possible that my deserts to you
Can lacke perswasion. Do not tempt my misery,
Least that it make me so vnsound a man
As to vpbraid you with those kindnesses
That I haue done for you
Vio. I know of none,
Nor know I you by voyce, or any feature:
I hate ingratitude more in a man,
Then lying, vainnesse, babling drunkennesse,
Or any taint of vice, whose strong corruption
Inhabites our fraile blood
Ant. Oh heauens themselues
2.Off. Come sir, I pray you go
Ant. Let me speake a little. This youth that you see heere,
I snatch'd one halfe out of the iawes of death,
Releeu'd him with such sanctitie of loue;
And to his image, which me thought did promise
Most venerable worth, did I deuotion
1.Off. What's that to vs, the time goes by: Away
Ant. But oh, how vilde an idoll proues this God:
Thou hast Sebastian done good feature, shame.
In Nature, there's no blemish but the minde:
None can be call'd deform'd, but the vnkinde.
Vertue is beauty, but the beauteous euill
Are empty trunkes, ore-flourish'd by the deuill
1.Off. The man growes mad, away with him:
Come, come sir
Ant. Leade me on.
Exit
Vio. Me thinkes his words do from such passion flye
That he beleeues himselfe, so do not I:
Proue true imagination, oh proue true,
That I deere brother, be now tane for you
To. Come hither Knight, come hither Fabian: Weel
whisper ore a couplet or two of most sage sawes
Vio. He nam'd Sebastian: I my brother know
Yet liuing in my glasse: euen such, and so
In fauour was my Brother, and he went
Still in this fashion, colour, ornament,
For him I imitate: Oh if it proue,
Tempests are kinde, and salt waues fresh in loue
To. A very dishonest paltry boy, and more a coward then a Hare, his dishonesty appeares, in leauing his frend heere in necessity, and denying him: and for his cowardship aske Fabian
Fab. A Coward, a most deuout Coward, religious in it
And. Slid Ile after him againe, and beate him
To. Do, cuffe him soundly, but neuer draw thy sword
And. And I do not
Fab. Come, let's see the euent
To. I dare lay any money, twill be nothing yet.
Exit
Actus Quartus, Scaena prima.
Enter Sebastian and Clowne
Clo. Will you make me beleeue, that I am not sent for
you?
Seb. Go too, go too, thou art a foolish fellow,
Let me be cleere of thee
Clo. Well held out yfaith: No, I do not know you, nor I am not sent to you by my Lady, to bid you come speake with her: nor your name is not Master Cesario, nor this is not my nose neyther: Nothing that is so, is so
Seb. I prethee vent thy folly some-where else, thou know'st not me
Clo. Vent my folly: He has heard that word of some great man, and now applyes it to a foole. Vent my folly: I am affraid this great lubber the World will proue a Cockney: I prethee now vngird thy strangenes, and tell me what I shall vent to my Lady? Shall I vent to hir that thou art comming? Seb. I prethee foolish greeke depart from me, there's money for thee, if you tarry longer, I shall giue worse paiment
Clo. By my troth thou hast an open hand: these Wisemen that giue fooles money, get themselues a good report, after foureteene yeares purchase. Enter Andrew, Toby, and Fabian.
And. Now sir, haue I met you again: ther's for you
Seb. Why there's for thee, and there, and there,
Are all the people mad?
To. Hold sir, or Ile throw your dagger ore the house
Clo. This will I tell my Lady straight, I would not be
in some of your coats for two pence
To. Come on sir, hold
An. Nay let him alone, Ile go another way to worke with him: Ile haue an action of Battery against him, if there be any law in Illyria: though I stroke him first, yet it's no matter for that
Seb. Let go thy hand
To. Come sir, I will not let you go. Come my yong souldier put vp your yron: you are well flesh'd: Come on
Seb. I will be free from thee. What wouldst y now?
If thou dar'st tempt me further, draw thy sword
To. What, what? Nay then I must haue an Ounce or two of this malapert blood from you. Enter Oliuia.
Ol. Hold Toby, on thy life I charge thee hold
To. Madam
Ol. Will it be euer thus? Vngracious wretch,
Fit for the Mountaines, and the barbarous Caues,
Where manners nere were preach'd: out of my sight.
Be not offended, deere Cesario:
Rudesbey be gone. I prethee gentle friend,
Let thy fayre wisedome, not thy passion sway
In this vnciuill, and vniust extent
Against thy peace. Go with me to my house,
And heare thou there how many fruitlesse prankes
This Ruffian hath botch'd vp, that thou thereby
Mayst smile at this: Thou shalt not choose but goe:
Do not denie, beshrew his soule for mee,
He started one poore heart of mine, in thee
Seb. What rellish is in this? How runs the streame?
Or I am mad, or else this is a dreame:
Let fancie still my sense in Lethe steepe,
If it be thus to dreame, still let me sleepe
Ol. Nay come I prethee, would thoud'st be rul'd by me
Seb. Madam, I will
Ol. O say so, and so be.
Exeunt.
Scoena Secunda.
Enter Maria and Clowne.
Mar. Nay, I prethee put on this gown, & this beard, make him beleeue thou art sir Topas the Curate, doe it quickly. Ile call sir Toby the whilst
Clo. Well, Ile put it on, and I will dissemble my selfe in't, and I would I were the first that euer dissembled in in such a gowne. I am not tall enough to become the function well, nor leane enough to bee thought a good Studient: but to be said an honest man and a good houskeeper goes as fairely, as to say, a carefull man, & a great scholler. The Competitors enter. Enter Toby.
To. Ioue blesse thee M[aster]. Parson
Clo. Bonos dies sir Toby: for as the old hermit of Prage that neuer saw pen and inke, very wittily sayd to a Neece of King Gorbodacke, that that is, is: so I being M[aster]. Parson, am M[aster]. Parson; for what is that, but that? and is, but is? To. To him sir Topas
Clow. What hoa, I say, Peace in this prison
To. The knaue counterfets well: a good knaue.
Maluolio within.
Mal. Who cals there?
Clo. Sir Topas the Curate, who comes to visit Maluolio
the Lunaticke
Mal. Sir Topas, sir Topas, good sir Topas goe to my
Ladie
Clo. Out hyperbolicall fiend, how vexest thou this
man? Talkest thou nothing but of Ladies?
Tob. Well said M[aster]. Parson
Mal. Sir Topas, neuer was man thus wronged, good sir Topas do not thinke I am mad: they haue layde mee heere in hideous darknesse
Clo. Fye, thou dishonest sathan: I call thee by the most modest termes, for I am one of those gentle ones, that will vse the diuell himselfe with curtesie: sayst thou that house is darke? Mal. As hell sir Topas
Clo. Why it hath bay Windowes transparant as baricadoes, and the cleere stores toward the South north, are as lustrous as Ebony: and yet complainest thou of obstruction? Mal. I am not mad sir Topas, I say to you this house is darke
Clo. Madman thou errest: I say there is no darknesse but ignorance, in which thou art more puzel'd then the aegyptians in their fogge
Mal. I say this house is as darke as Ignorance, thogh Ignorance were as darke as hell; and I say there was neuer man thus abus'd, I am no more madde then you are, make the triall of it in any constant question
Clo. What is the opinion of Pythagoras concerning
Wilde-fowle?
Mal. That the soule of our grandam, might happily
inhabite a bird
Clo. What thinkst thou of his opinion?
Mal. I thinke nobly of the soule, and no way aproue
his opinion
Clo. Fare thee well: remaine thou still in darkenesse, thou shalt hold th' opinion of Pythagoras, ere I will allow of thy wits, and feare to kill a Woodcocke, lest thou dispossesse the soule of thy grandam. Fare thee well
Mal. Sir Topas, sir Topas
Tob. My most exquisite sir Topas
Clo. Nay I am for all waters
Mar. Thou mightst haue done this without thy berd and gowne, he sees thee not
To. To him in thine owne voyce, and bring me word how thou findst him: I would we were well ridde of this knauery. If he may bee conueniently deliuer'd, I would he were, for I am now so farre in offence with my Niece, that I cannot pursue with any safety this sport the vppeshot. Come by and by to my Chamber.
Exit
Clo. Hey Robin, iolly Robin, tell me how thy Lady does
Mal. Foole
Clo. My Lady is vnkind, perdie
Mal. Foole
Clo. Alas why is she so?
Mal. Foole, I say
Clo. She loues another. Who calles, ha? Mal. Good foole, as euer thou wilt deserue well at my hand, helpe me to a Candle, and pen, inke, and paper: as I am a Gentleman, I will liue to bee thankefull to thee for't
Clo. M[aster]. Maluolio?
Mal. I good Foole
Clo. Alas sir, how fell you besides your fiue witts?
Mall. Foole, there was neuer man so notoriouslie abus'd:
I am as well in my wits (foole) as thou art
Clo. But as well: then you are mad indeede, if you be
no better in your wits then a foole
Mal. They haue heere propertied me: keepe mee in darkenesse, send Ministers to me, Asses, and doe all they can to face me out of my wits
Clo. Aduise you what you say: the Minister is heere. Maluolio, Maluolio, thy wittes the heauens restore: endeauour thy selfe to sleepe, and leaue thy vaine bibble babble
Mal. Sir Topas
Clo. Maintaine no words with him good fellow.
Who I sir, not I sir. God buy you good sir Topas: Marry
Amen. I will sir, I will
Mal. Foole, foole, foole I say
Clo. Alas sir be patient. What say you sir, I am shent for speaking to you
Mal. Good foole, helpe me to some light, and some paper, I tell thee I am as well in my wittes, as any man in Illyria
Clo. Well-a-day, that you were sir
Mal. By this hand I am: good foole, some inke, paper, and light: and conuey what I will set downe to my Lady: it shall aduantage thee more, then euer the bearing of Letter did
Clo. I will help you too't. But tel me true, are you not mad indeed, or do you but counterfeit
Mal. Beleeue me I am not, I tell thee true
Clo. Nay, Ile nere beleeue a madman till I see his brains
I will fetch you light, and paper, and inke
Mal. Foole, Ile requite it in the highest degree:
I prethee be gone
Clo. I am gone sir, and anon sir,
Ile be with you againe:
In a trice, like to the old vice,
your neede to sustaine.
Who with dagger of lath, in his rage and his wrath,
cries ah ha, to the diuell:
Like a mad lad, paire thy nayles dad,
Adieu good man diuell.
Exit
Scaena Tertia.
Enter Sebastian.
This is the ayre, that is the glorious Sunne,
This pearle she gaue me, I do feel't, and see't,
And though tis wonder that enwraps me thus,
Yet 'tis not madnesse. Where's Anthonio then,
I could not finde him at the Elephant,
Yet there he was, and there I found this credite,
That he did range the towne to seeke me out,
His councell now might do me golden seruice,
For though my soule disputes well with my sence,
That this may be some error, but no madnesse,
Yet doth this accident and flood of Fortune,
So farre exceed all instance, all discourse,
That I am readie to distrust mine eyes,
And wrangle with my reason that perswades me
To any other trust, but that I am mad,
Or else the Ladies mad; yet if 'twere so,
She could not sway her house, command her followers,
Take, and giue backe affayres, and their dispatch,
With such a smooth, discreet, and stable bearing
As I perceiue she do's: there's something in't
That is deceiueable. But heere the Lady comes.
Enter Oliuia, and Priest.
Ol. Blame not this haste of mine: if you meane well
Now go with me, and with this holy man
Into the Chantry by: there before him,
And vnderneath that consecrated roofe,
Plight me the full assurance of your faith,
That my most iealious, and too doubtfull soule
May liue at peace. He shall conceale it,
Whiles you are willing it shall come to note,
What time we will our celebration keepe
According to my birth, what do you say?
Seb. Ile follow this good man, and go with you,
And hauing sworne truth, euer will be true
Ol. Then lead the way good father, & heauens so shine,
That they may fairely note this acte of mine.
Exeunt.
Finis Actus Quartus.
Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.
Enter Clowne and Fabian.
Fab. Now as thou lou'st me, let me see his Letter
Clo. Good M[aster]. Fabian, grant me another request
Fab. Any thing
Clo. Do not desire to see this Letter
Fab. This is to giue a dogge, and in recompence desire
my dogge againe.
Enter Duke, Viola, Curio, and Lords.
Duke. Belong you to the Lady Oliuia, friends?
Clo. I sir, we are some of her trappings
Duke. I know thee well: how doest thou my good
Fellow?
Clo. Truely sir, the better for my foes, and the worse
for my friends
Du. Iust the contrary: the better for thy friends
Clo. No sir, the worse
Du. How can that be? Clo. Marry sir, they praise me, and make an asse of me, now my foes tell me plainly, I am an Asse: so that by my foes sir, I profit in the knowledge of my selfe, and by my friends I am abused: so that conclusions to be as kisses, if your foure negatiues make your two affirmatiues, why then the worse for my friends, and the better for my foes
Du. Why this is excellent
Clo. By my troth sir, no: though it please you to be one of my friends
Du. Thou shalt not be the worse for me, there's gold
Clo. But that it would be double dealing sir, I would you could make it another
Du. O you giue me ill counsell
Clo. Put your grace in your pocket sir, for this once,
and let your flesh and blood obey it
Du. Well, I will be so much a sinner to be a double
dealer: there's another
Clo. Primo, secundo, tertio, is a good play, and the olde saying is, the third payes for all: the triplex sir, is a good tripping measure, or the belles of S[aint]. Bennet sir, may put you in minde, one, two, three
Du. You can foole no more money out of mee at this throw: if you will let your Lady know I am here to speak with her, and bring her along with you, it may awake my bounty further
Clo. Marry sir, lullaby to your bountie till I come agen. I go sir, but I would not haue you to thinke, that my desire of hauing is the sinne of couetousnesse: but as you say sir, let your bounty take a nappe, I will awake it anon.
Exit
Enter Anthonio and Officers.
Vio. Here comes the man sir, that did rescue mee
Du. That face of his I do remember well,
Yet when I saw it last, it was besmear'd
As blacke as Vulcan, in the smoake of warre:
A bawbling Vessell was he Captaine of,
For shallow draught and bulke vnprizable,
With which such scathfull grapple did he make,
With the most noble bottome of our Fleete,
That very enuy, and the tongue of losse
Cride fame and honor on him: What's the matter?
1.Offi. Orsino, this is that Anthonio
That tooke the Phoenix, and her fraught from Candy,
And this is he that did the Tiger boord,
When your yong Nephew Titus lost his legge;
Heere in the streets, desperate of shame and state,
In priuate brabble did we apprehend him
Vio. He did me kindnesse sir, drew on my side,
But in conclusion put strange speech vpon me,
I know not what 'twas, but distraction
Du. Notable Pyrate, thou salt-water Theefe,
What foolish boldnesse brought thee to their mercies,
Whom thou in termes so bloudie, and so deere
Hast made thine enemies?
Ant. Orsino: Noble sir,
Be pleas'd that I shake off these names you giue mee:
Anthonio neuer yet was Theefe, or Pyrate,
Though I confesse, on base and ground enough
Orsino's enemie. A witchcraft drew me hither:
That most ingratefull boy there by your side,
From the rude seas enrag'd and foamy mouth
Did I redeeme: a wracke past hope he was:
His life I gaue him, and did thereto adde
My loue without retention, or restraint,
All his in dedication. For his sake,
Did I expose my selfe (pure for his loue)
Into the danger of this aduerse Towne,
Drew to defend him, when he was beset:
Where being apprehended, his false cunning
(Not meaning to partake with me in danger)
Taught him to face me out of his acquaintance,
And grew a twentie yeeres remoued thing
While one would winke: denide me mine owne purse,
Which I had recommended to his vse,
Not halfe an houre before
Vio. How can this be?
Du. When came he to this Towne?
Ant. To day my Lord: and for three months before,
No intrim, not a minutes vacancie,
Both day and night did we keepe companie.
Enter Oliuia and attendants.
Du. Heere comes the Countesse, now heauen walkes
on earth:
But for thee fellow, fellow thy words are madnesse,
Three monthes this youth hath tended vpon mee,
But more of that anon. Take him aside
Ol. What would my Lord, but that he may not haue,
Wherein Oliuia may seeme seruiceable?
Cesario, you do not keepe promise with me
Vio. Madam:
Du. Gracious Oliuia
Ol. What do you say Cesario? Good my Lord
Vio. My Lord would speake, my dutie hushes me
Ol. If it be ought to the old tune my Lord,
It is as fat and fulsome to mine eare
As howling after Musicke
Du. Still so cruell?
Ol. Still so constant Lord
Du. What to peruersenesse? you vnciuill Ladie
To whose ingrate, and vnauspicious Altars
My soule the faithfull'st offrings haue breath'd out
That ere deuotion tender'd. What shall I do?
Ol. Euen what it please my Lord, that shal becom him
Du. Why should I not, (had I the heart to do it)
Like to th' Egyptian theefe, at point of death
Kill what I loue: (a sauage iealousie,
That sometime sauours nobly) but heare me this:
Since you to non-regardance cast my faith,
And that I partly know the instrument
That screwes me from my true place in your fauour:
Liue you the Marble-brested Tirant still.
But this your Minion, whom I know you loue,
And whom, by heauen I sweare, I tender deerely,
Him will I teare out of that cruell eye,
Where he sits crowned in his masters spight.
Come boy with me, my thoughts are ripe in mischiefe:
Ile sacrifice the Lambe that I do loue,
To spight a Rauens heart within a Doue
Vio. And I most iocund, apt, and willinglie,
To do you rest, a thousand deaths would dye
Ol. Where goes Cesario?
Vio. After him I loue,
More then I loue these eyes, more then my life,
More by all mores, then ere I shall loue wife.
If I do feigne, you witnesses aboue
Punish my life, for tainting of my loue
Ol. Aye me detested, how am I beguil'd?
Vio. Who does beguile you? who does do you wrong?
Ol. Hast thou forgot thy selfe? Is it so long?
Call forth the holy Father
Du. Come, away
Ol. Whether my Lord? Cesario, Husband, stay
Du. Husband?
Ol. I Husband. Can he that deny?
Du. Her husband, sirrah?
Vio. No my Lord, not I
Ol. Alas, it is the basenesse of thy feare,
That makes thee strangle thy propriety:
Feare not Cesario, take thy fortunes vp,
Be that thou know'st thou art, and then thou art
As great as that thou fear'st.
Enter Priest.
O welcome Father:
Father, I charge thee by thy reuerence
Heere to vnfold, though lately we intended
To keepe in darkenesse, what occasion now
Reueales before 'tis ripe: what thou dost know
Hath newly past, betweene this youth, and me
Priest. A Contract of eternall bond of loue,
Confirm'd by mutuall ioynder of your hands,
Attested by the holy close of lippes,
Strengthned by enterchangement of your rings,
And all the Ceremonie of this compact
Seal'd in my function, by my testimony:
Since when, my watch hath told me, toward my graue
I haue trauail'd but two houres
Du. O thou dissembling Cub: what wilt thou be
When time hath sow'd a grizzle on thy case?
Or will not else thy craft so quickely grow,
That thine owne trip shall be thine ouerthrow:
Farewell, and take her, but direct thy feete,
Where thou, and I (henceforth) may neuer meet
Vio. My Lord, I do protest
Ol. O do not sweare,
Hold little faith, though thou hast too much feare.
Enter Sir Andrew.
And. For the loue of God a Surgeon, send one presently
to sir Toby
Ol. What's the matter?
And. H'as broke my head acrosse, and has giuen Sir
Toby a bloody Coxcombe too: for the loue of God your
helpe, I had rather then forty pound I were at home
Ol. Who has done this sir Andrew?
And. The Counts Gentleman, one Cesario: we tooke
him for a Coward, but hee's the verie diuell, incardinate
Du. My Gentleman Cesario?
And. Odd's lifelings heere he is: you broke my head
for nothing, and that that I did, I was set on to do't by sir
Toby
Vio. Why do you speake to me, I neuer hurt you:
You drew your sword vpon me without cause,
But I bespake you faire, and hurt you not.
Enter Toby and Clowne.
And. If a bloody coxcombe be a hurt, you haue hurt me: I thinke you set nothing by a bloody Coxecombe. Heere comes sir Toby halting, you shall heare more: but if he had not beene in drinke, hee would haue tickel'd you other gates then he did
Du. How now Gentleman? how ist with you?
To. That's all one, has hurt me, and there's th' end on't:
Sot, didst see Dicke Surgeon, sot?
Clo. O he's drunke sir Toby an houre agone: his eyes
were set at eight i'th morning
To. Then he's a Rogue, and a passy measures pauyn: I
hate a drunken rogue
Ol. Away with him? Who hath made this hauocke
with them?
And. Ile helpe you sir Toby, because we'll be drest together
To. Will you helpe an Asse-head, and a coxcombe, &
a knaue: a thin fac'd knaue, a gull?
Ol. Get him to bed, and let his hurt be look'd too.
Enter Sebastian.
Seb. I am sorry Madam I haue hurt your kinsman:
But had it beene the brother of my blood,
I must haue done no lesse with wit and safety.
You throw a strange regard vpon me, and by that
I do perceiue it hath offended you:
Pardon me (sweet one) euen for the vowes
We made each other, but so late ago
Du. One face, one voice, one habit, and two persons,
A naturall Perspectiue, that is, and is not
Seb. Anthonio: O my deere Anthonio,
How haue the houres rack'd, and tortur'd me,
Since I haue lost thee?
Ant. Sebastian are you?
Seb. Fear'st thou that Anthonio?
Ant. How haue you made diuision of your selfe,
An apple cleft in two, is not more twin
Then these two creatures. Which is Sebastian?
Ol. Most wonderfull
Seb. Do I stand there? I neuer had a brother:
Nor can there be that Deity in my nature
Of heere, and euery where. I had a sister,
Whom the blinde waues and surges haue deuour'd:
Of charity, what kinne are you to me?
What Countreyman? What name? What Parentage?
Vio. Of Messaline: Sebastian was my Father,
Such a Sebastian was my brother too:
So went he suited to his watery tombe:
If spirits can assume both forme and suite,
You come to fright vs
Seb. A spirit I am indeed,
But am in that dimension grossely clad,
Which from the wombe I did participate.
Were you a woman, as the rest goes euen,
I should my teares let fall vpon your cheeke,
And say, thrice welcome drowned Viola
Vio. My father had a moale vpon his brow
Seb. And so had mine
Vio. And dide that day when Viola from her birth
Had numbred thirteene yeares
Seb. O that record is liuely in my soule,
He finished indeed his mortall acte
That day that made my sister thirteene yeares
Vio. If nothing lets to make vs happie both,
But this my masculine vsurp'd attyre:
Do not embrace me, till each circumstance,
Of place, time, fortune, do cohere and iumpe
That I am Viola, which to confirme,
Ile bring you to a Captaine in this Towne,
Where lye my maiden weeds: by whose gentle helpe,
I was preseru'd to serue this Noble Count:
All the occurrence of my fortune since
Hath beene betweene this Lady, and this Lord
Seb. So comes it Lady, you haue beene mistooke:
But Nature to her bias drew in that.
You would haue bin contracted to a Maid,
Nor are you therein (by my life) deceiu'd,
You are betroth'd both to a maid and man
Du. Be not amaz'd, right noble is his blood:
If this be so, as yet the glasse seemes true,
I shall haue share in this most happy wracke,
Boy, thou hast saide to me a thousand times,
Thou neuer should'st loue woman like to me
Vio. And all those sayings, will I ouer sweare,
And all those swearings keepe as true in soule,
As doth that Orbed Continent, the fire,
That seuers day from night
Du. Giue me thy hand,
And let me see thee in thy womans weedes
Vio. The Captaine that did bring me first on shore
Hath my Maides garments: he vpon some Action
Is now in durance, at Maluolio's suite,
a Gentleman, and follower of my Ladies
Ol. He shall inlarge him: fetch Maluolio hither,
And yet alas, now I remember me,
They say poore Gentleman, he's much distract.
Enter Clowne with a Letter, and Fabian.
A most extracting frensie of mine owne From my remembrance, clearly banisht his. How does he sirrah? Cl. Truely Madam, he holds Belzebub at the staues end as well as a man in his case may do: has heere writ a letter to you, I should haue giuen't you to day morning. But as a madmans Epistles are no Gospels, so it skilles not much when they are deliuer'd
Ol. Open't, and read it
Clo. Looke then to be well edified, when the Foole
deliuers the Madman. By the Lord Madam
Ol. How now, art thou mad?
Clo. No Madam, I do but reade madnesse: and your
Ladyship will haue it as it ought to bee, you must allow
Vox
Ol. Prethee reade i'thy right wits
Clo. So I do Madona: but to reade his right wits, is to reade thus: therefore, perpend my Princesse, and giue eare
Ol. Read it you, sirrah
Fab. Reads. By the Lord Madam, you wrong me, and the world shall know it: Though you haue put mee into darkenesse, and giuen your drunken Cosine rule ouer me, yet haue I the benefit of my senses as well as your Ladieship. I haue your owne letter, that induced mee to the semblance I put on; with the which I doubt not, but to do my selfe much right, or you much shame: thinke of me as you please. I leaue my duty a little vnthought of, and speake out of my iniury. The madly vs'd Maluolio
Ol. Did he write this?
Clo. I Madame
Du. This sauours not much of distraction
Ol. See him deliuer'd Fabian, bring him hither:
My Lord, so please you, these things further thought on,
To thinke me as well a sister, as a wife,
One day shall crowne th' alliance on't, so please you,
Heere at my house, and at my proper cost
Du. Madam, I am most apt t' embrace your offer:
Your Master quits you: and for your seruice done him,
So much against the mettle of your sex,
So farre beneath your soft and tender breeding,
And since you call'd me Master, for so long:
Heere is my hand, you shall from this time bee
Your Masters Mistris
Ol. A sister, you are she.
Enter Maluolio.
Du. Is this the Madman?
Ol. I my Lord, this same: How now Maluolio?
Mal. Madam, you haue done me wrong,
Notorious wrong
Ol. Haue I Maluolio? No
Mal. Lady you haue, pray you peruse that Letter.
You must not now denie it is your hand,
Write from it if you can, in hand, or phrase,
Or say, tis not your seale, not your inuention:
You can say none of this. Well, grant it then,
And tell me in the modestie of honor,
Why you haue giuen me such cleare lights of fauour,
Bad me come smiling, and crosse-garter'd to you,
To put on yellow stockings, and to frowne
Vpon sir Toby, and the lighter people:
And acting this in an obedient hope,
Why haue you suffer'd me to be imprison'd,
Kept in a darke house, visited by the Priest,
And made the most notorious gecke and gull,
That ere inuention plaid on? Tell me why?
Ol. Alas Maluolio, this is not my writing,
Though I confesse much like the Charracter:
But out of question, tis Marias hand.
And now I do bethinke me, it was shee
First told me thou wast mad; then cam'st in smiling,
And in such formes, which heere were presuppos'd
Vpon thee in the Letter: prethee be content,
This practice hath most shrewdly past vpon thee:
But when we know the grounds, and authors of it,
Thou shalt be both the Plaintiffe and the Iudge
Of thine owne cause
Fab. Good Madam heare me speake,
And let no quarrell, nor no braule to come,
Taint the condition of this present houre,
Which I haue wondred at. In hope it shall not,
Most freely I confesse my selfe, and Toby
Set this deuice against Maluolio heere,
Vpon some stubborne and vncourteous parts
We had conceiu'd against him. Maria writ
The Letter, at sir Tobyes great importance,
In recompence whereof, he hath married her:
How with a sportfull malice it was follow'd,
May rather plucke on laughter then reuenge,
If that the iniuries be iustly weigh'd,
That haue on both sides past
Ol. Alas poore Foole, how haue they baffel'd thee? Clo. Why some are borne great, some atchieue greatnesse, and some haue greatnesse throwne vpon them. I was one sir, in this Enterlude, one sir Topas sir, but that's all one: By the Lord Foole, I am not mad: but do you remember, Madam, why laugh you at such a barren rascall, and you smile not he's gag'd: and thus the whirlegigge of time, brings in his reuenges
Mal. Ile be reueng'd on the whole packe of you?
Ol. He hath bene most notoriously abus'd
Du. Pursue him, and entreate him to a peace:
He hath not told vs of the Captaine yet,
When that is knowne, and golden time conuents
A solemne Combination shall be made
Of our deere soules. Meane time sweet sister,
We will not part from hence. Cesario come
(For so you shall be while you are a man:)
But when in other habites you are seene,
Orsino's Mistris, and his fancies Queene.
Exeunt.
Clowne sings . When that I was and a little tine boy, with hey, ho, the winde and the raine: A foolish thing was but a toy, for the raine it raineth euery day. But when I came to mans estate, with hey ho, &c. Gainst Knaues and Theeues men shut their gate, for the raine, &c. But when I came alas to wiue, with hey ho, &c. By swaggering could I neuer thriue, for the raine, &c. But when I came vnto my beds, with hey ho, &c. With tospottes still had drunken heades, for the raine, &c. A great while ago the world begon, hey ho, &c. But that's all one, our Play is done, and wee'l striue to please you euery day.
FINIS. Twelfe Night, Or what you will.
The Winters Tale
Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.
Enter Camillo and Archidamus.
Arch. If you shall chance (Camillo) to visit Bohemia, on the like occasion whereon my seruices are now on-foot, you shall see (as I haue said) great difference betwixt our Bohemia, and your Sicilia
Cam. I thinke, this comming Summer, the King of Sicilia meanes to pay Bohemia the Visitation, which hee iustly owes him
Arch. Wherein our Entertainment shall shame vs: we will be iustified in our Loues: for indeed- Cam. 'Beseech you- Arch. Verely I speake it in the freedome of my knowledge: we cannot with such magnificence- in so rare- I know not what to say- Wee will giue you sleepie Drinkes, that your Sences (vn-intelligent of our insufficience) may, though they cannot prayse vs, as little accuse vs
Cam. You pay a great deale to deare, for what's giuen
freely
Arch. 'Beleeue me, I speake as my vnderstanding instructs
me, and as mine honestie puts it to vtterance
Cam. Sicilia cannot shew himselfe ouer-kind to Bohemia: They were trayn'd together in their Childhoods; and there rooted betwixt them then such an affection, which cannot chuse but braunch now. Since their more mature Dignities, and Royall Necessities, made seperation of their Societie, their Encounters (though not Personall) hath been Royally attornyed with enter-change of Gifts, Letters, louing Embassies, that they haue seem'd to be together, though absent: shooke hands, as ouer a Vast; and embrac'd as it were from the ends of opposed Winds. The Heauens continue their Loues
Arch. I thinke there is not in the World, either Malice or Matter, to alter it. You haue an vnspeakable comfort of your young Prince Mamillius: it is a Gentleman of the greatest Promise, that euer came into my Note
Cam. I very well agree with you, in the hopes of him: it is a gallant Child; one, that (indeed) Physicks the Subiect, makes old hearts fresh: they that went on Crutches ere he was borne, desire yet their life, to see him a Man
Arch. Would they else be content to die?
Cam. Yes; if there were no other excuse, why they should
desire to liue
Arch. If the King had no Sonne, they would desire to
liue on Crutches till he had one.
Exeunt.
Scoena Secunda.
Enter Leontes, Hermione, Mamillius, Polixenes, Camillo.
Pol. Nine Changes of the Watry-Starre hath been
The Shepheards Note, since we haue left our Throne
Without a Burthen: Time as long againe
Would be fill'd vp (my Brother) with our Thanks,
And yet we should, for perpetuitie,
Goe hence in debt: And therefore, like a Cypher
(Yet standing in rich place) I multiply
With one we thanke you, many thousands moe,
That goe before it
Leo. Stay your Thanks a while,
And pay them when you part
Pol. Sir, that's to morrow:
I am question'd by my feares, of what may chance,
Or breed vpon our absence, that may blow
No sneaping Winds at home, to make vs say,
This is put forth too truly: besides, I haue stay'd
To tyre your Royaltie
Leo. We are tougher (Brother)
Then you can put vs to't
Pol. No longer stay
Leo. One Seue' night longer
Pol. Very sooth, to morrow
Leo. Wee'le part the time betweene's then: and in that
Ile no gaine-saying
Pol. Presse me not ('beseech you) so:
There is no Tongue that moues; none, none i'th' World
So soone as yours, could win me: so it should now,
Were there necessitie in your request, although
'Twere needfull I deny'd it. My Affaires
Doe euen drag me home-ward: which to hinder,
Were (in your Loue) a Whip to me; my stay,
To you a Charge, and Trouble: to saue both,
Farewell (our Brother.)
Leo. Tongue-ty'd our Queene? speake you
Her. I had thought (Sir) to haue held my peace, vntill
You had drawne Oathes 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 proclaym'd, say this to him,
He's beat from his best ward
Leo. Well said, Hermione
Her. To tell, he longs to see his Sonne, were strong:
But let him say so then, and let him goe;
But let him sweare so, and he shall not stay,
Wee'l thwack him hence with Distaffes.
Yet of your Royall presence, Ile aduenture
The borrow of a Weeke. When at Bohemia
You take my Lord, Ile giue him my Commission,
To let him there a Moneth, behind the Gest
Prefix'd for's parting: yet (good-deed) Leontes,
I loue thee not a Iarre o'th' Clock, behind
What Lady she her Lord. You'le stay?
Pol. No, Madame
Her. Nay, but you will?
Pol. I may not verely
Her. Verely?
You put me off with limber Vowes: but I,
Though you would seek t' vnsphere the Stars with Oaths,
Should yet say, Sir, no going: Verely
You shall not goe; a Ladyes Verely 'is
As potent as a Lords. Will you goe yet?
Force me to keepe you as a Prisoner,
Not like a Guest: so you shall pay your Fees
When you depart, and saue your Thanks. How say you?
My Prisoner? or my Guest? by your dread Verely,
One of them you shall be
Pol. Your Guest then, Madame:
To be your Prisoner, should import offending;
Which is for me, lesse easie to commit,
Then you to punish
Her. Not your Gaoler then,
But your kind Hostesse. Come, Ile question you
Of my Lords Tricks, and yours, when you were Boyes:
You were pretty Lordings then?
Pol. We were (faire Queene)
Two Lads, that thought there was no more behind,
But such a day to morrow, as to day,
And to be Boy eternall
Her. Was not my Lord
The veryer Wag o'th' two?
Pol. We were as twyn'd Lambs, that did frisk i'th' Sun,
And bleat the one at th' other: what we chang'd,
Was Innocence, for Innocence: we knew not
The Doctrine of ill-doing, nor dream'd
That any did: Had we pursu'd that life,
And our weake Spirits ne're been higher rear'd
With stronger blood, we should haue answer'd Heauen
Boldly, not guilty; the Imposition clear'd,
Hereditarie ours
Her. By this we gather
You haue tript since
Pol. O my most sacred Lady,
Temptations haue since then been borne to's: for
In those vnfledg'd dayes, was my Wife a Girle;
Your precious selfe had then not cross'd the eyes
Of my young Play-fellow
Her. Grace to boot:
Of this make no conclusion, least you say
Your Queene and I are Deuils: yet goe on,
Th' offences we haue made you doe, wee'le answere,
If you first sinn'd with vs: and that with vs
You did continue fault; and that you slipt not
With any, but with vs
Leo. Is he woon yet?
Her. Hee'le stay (my Lord.)
Leo. At my request, he would not:
Hermione (my dearest) thou neuer spoak'st
To better purpose
Her. Neuer?
Leo. Neuer, but once
Her. What? haue I twice said well? when was't before?
I prethee tell me: cram's with prayse, and make's
As fat as tame things: One good deed, dying tonguelesse,
Slaughters a thousand, wayting vpon that.
Our prayses are our Wages. You may ride's
With one soft Kisse a thousand Furlongs, ere
With Spur we heat an Acre. But to th' Goale:
My last good deed, was to entreat his stay.
What was my first? it ha's an elder Sister,
Or I mistake you: O, would her Name were Grace.
But once before I spoke to th' purpose? when?
Nay, let me haue't: I long
Leo. Why, that was when
Three crabbed Moneths had sowr'd themselues to death,
Ere I could make thee open thy white Hand:
A clap thy selfe, my Loue; then didst thou vtter,
I am yours for euer
Her. 'Tis Grace indeed.
Why lo-you now; I haue spoke to th' purpose twice:
The one, for euer earn'd a Royall Husband;
Th' other, for some while a Friend
Leo. Too hot, too hot:
To mingle friendship farre, is mingling bloods.
I haue Tremor Cordis on me: my heart daunces,
But not for ioy; not ioy. This Entertainment
May a free face put on: deriue a Libertie
From Heartinesse, from Bountie, fertile Bosome,
And well become the Agent: 't may; I graunt:
But to be padling Palmes, and pinching Fingers,
As now they are, and making practis'd Smiles
As in a Looking-Glasse; and then to sigh, as 'twere
The Mort o'th' Deere: oh, that is entertainment
My Bosome likes not, nor my Browes. Mamillius,
Art thou my Boy?
Mam. I, my good Lord
Leo. I'fecks:
Why that's my Bawcock: what? has't smutch'd thy Nose?
They say it is a Coppy out of mine. Come Captaine,
We must be neat; not neat, but cleanly, Captaine:
And yet the Steere, the Heycfer, and the Calfe,
Are all call'd Neat. Still Virginalling
Vpon his Palme? How now (you wanton Calfe)
Art thou my Calfe?
Mam. Yes, if you will (my Lord.)
Leo. Thou want'st a rough pash, & the shoots that I haue
To be full, like me: yet they say we are
Almost as like as Egges; Women say so,
(That will say any thing.) But were they false
As o're-dy'd Blacks, as Wind, as Waters; false
As Dice are to be wish'd, by one that fixes
No borne 'twixt his and mine; yet were it true,
To say this Boy were like me. Come (Sir Page)
Looke on me with your Welkin eye: sweet Villaine,
Most dear'st, my Collop: Can thy Dam, may't be
Affection? thy Intention stabs the Center.
Thou do'st make possible things not so held,
Communicat'st with Dreames (how can this be?)
With what's vnreall: thou coactiue art,
And fellow'st nothing. Then 'tis very credent,
Thou may'st co-ioyne with something, and thou do'st,
(And that beyond Commission) and I find it,
(And that to the infection of my Braines,
And hardning of my Browes.)
Pol. What meanes Sicilia?
Her. He something seemes vnsetled
Pol. How? my Lord?
Leo. What cheere? how is't with you, best Brother?
Her. You look as if you held a Brow of much distraction:
Are you mou'd (my Lord?)
Leo. No, in good earnest.
How sometimes Nature will betray it's folly?
It's tendernesse? and make it selfe a Pastime
To harder bosomes? Looking on the Lynes
Of my Boyes face, me thoughts I did requoyle
Twentie three yeeres, and saw my selfe vn-breech'd,
In my greene Veluet Coat; my Dagger muzzel'd,
Least it should bite it's Master, and so proue
(As Ornaments oft do's) too dangerous:
How like (me thought) I then was to this Kernell,
This Squash, this Gentleman. Mine honest Friend,
Will you take Egges for Money?
Mam. No (my Lord) Ile fight
Leo. You will: why happy man be's dole. My Brother
Are you so fond of your young Prince, as we
Doe seeme to be of ours?
Pol. If at home (Sir)
He's all my Exercise, my Mirth, my Matter;
Now my sworne Friend, and then mine Enemy;
My Parasite, my Souldier: States-man; all:
He makes a Iulyes day, short as December,
And with his varying childnesse, cures in me
Thoughts, that would thick my blood
Leo. So stands this Squire
Offic'd with me: We two will walke (my Lord)
And leaue you to your grauer steps. Hermione,
How thou lou'st vs, shew in our Brothers welcome;
Let what is deare in Sicily, be cheape:
Next to thy selfe, and my young Rouer, he's
Apparant to my heart
Her. If you would seeke vs,
We are yours i'th' Garden: shall's attend you there?
Leo. To your owne bents dispose you: you'le be found,
Be you beneath the Sky: I am angling now,
(Though you perceiue me not how I giue Lyne)
Goe too, goe too.
How she holds vp the Neb? the Byll to him?
And armes her with the boldnesse of a Wife
To her allowing Husband. Gone already,
Ynch-thick, knee-deepe; ore head and eares a fork'd one.
Goe play (Boy) play: thy Mother playes, and I
Play too; but so disgrac'd a part, whose issue
Will hisse me to my Graue: Contempt and Clamor
Will be my Knell. Goe play (Boy) play, there haue been
(Or I am much deceiu'd) Cuckolds ere now,
And many a man there is (euen at this present,
Now, while I speake this) holds his Wife by th' Arme,
That little thinkes she ha's been sluyc'd in's absence,
And his Pond fish'd by his next Neighbor (by
Sir Smile, his Neighbor:) nay, there's comfort in't,
Whiles other men haue Gates, and those Gates open'd
(As mine) against their will. Should all despaire
That haue reuolted Wiues, the tenth of Mankind
Would hang themselues. Physick for't, there's none:
It is a bawdy Planet, that will strike
Where 'tis predominant; and 'tis powrefull: thinke 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
Haue the Disease, and feele't not. How now Boy?
Mam. I am like you say
Leo. Why, that's some comfort.
What? Camillo there?
Cam. I, my good Lord
Leo. Goe play (Mamillius) thou'rt an honest man:
Camillo, this great Sir will yet stay longer
Cam. You had much adoe to make his Anchor hold,
When you cast out, it still came home
Leo. Didst note it?
Cam. He would not stay at your Petitions, made
His Businesse more materiall
Leo. Didst perceiue it?
They're here with me already; whisp'ring, rounding:
Sicilia is a so-forth: 'tis farre gone,
When I shall gust it last. How cam't (Camillo)
That he did stay?
Cam. At the good Queenes entreatie
Leo. At the Queenes be't: Good should be pertinent,
But so it is, it is not. Was this taken
By any vnderstanding Pate but thine?
For thy Conceit is soaking, will draw in
More then the common Blocks. Not noted, is't,
But of the finer Natures? by some Seueralls
Of Head-peece extraordinarie? Lower Messes
Perchance are to this Businesse purblind? say
Cam. Businesse, my Lord? I thinke most vnderstand
Bohemia stayes here longer
Leo. Ha?
Cam. Stayes here longer
Leo. I, but why?
Cam. To satisfie your Highnesse, and the Entreaties
Of our most gracious Mistresse
Leo. Satisfie?
Th' entreaties of your Mistresse? Satisfie?
Let that suffice. I haue trusted thee (Camillo)
With all the neerest things to my heart, as well
My Chamber-Councels, wherein (Priest-like) thou
Hast cleans'd my Bosome: I, from thee departed
Thy Penitent reform'd: but we haue been
Deceiu'd in thy Integritie, deceiu'd
In that which seemes so
Cam. Be it forbid (my Lord.)
Leo. To bide vpon't: thou art not honest: or
If thou inclin'st that way, thou art a Coward,
Which hoxes honestie behind, restrayning
From Course requir'd: or else thou must be counted
A Seruant, grafted in my serious Trust,
And therein negligent: or else a Foole,
That seest a Game play'd home, the rich Stake drawne,
And tak'st it all for ieast
Cam. My gracious Lord,
I may be negligent, foolish, and fearefull,
In euery one of these, no man is free,
But that his negligence, his folly, feare,
Among the infinite doings of the World,
Sometime puts forth in your affaires (my Lord.)
If euer I were wilfull-negligent,
It was my folly: if industriously
I play'd the Foole, it was my negligence,
Not weighing well the end: if euer fearefull
To doe a thing, where I the issue doubted,
Whereof the execution did cry out
Against the non-performance, 'twas a feare
Which oft infects the wisest: these (my Lord)
Are such allow'd Infirmities, that honestie
Is neuer free of. But beseech your Grace
Be plainer with me, let me know my Trespas
By it's owne visage; if I then deny it,
'Tis none of mine
Leo. Ha' not you seene Camillo?
(But that's past doubt: you haue, or your eye-glasse
Is thicker then a Cuckolds Horne) or heard?
(For to a Vision so apparant, Rumor
Cannot be mute) or thought? (for Cogitation
Resides not in that man, that do's not thinke)
My Wife is slipperie? If thou wilt confesse,
Or else be impudently negatiue,
To haue nor Eyes, nor Eares, nor Thought, then say
My Wife's a Holy-Horse, deserues a Name
As ranke as any Flax-Wench, that puts to
Before her troth-plight: say't, and iustify't
Cam. I would not be a stander-by, to heare
My Soueraigne Mistresse clouded so, without
My present vengeance taken: 'shrew my heart,
You neuer spoke what did become you lesse
Then this; which to reiterate, were sin
As deepe as that, though true
Leo. Is whispering nothing?
Is leaning Cheeke to Cheeke? is meating Noses?
Kissing with in-side Lip? stopping the Cariere
Of Laughter, with a sigh? (a Note infallible
Of breaking Honestie) horsing foot on foot?
Skulking in corners? wishing Clocks more swift?
Houres, Minutes? Noone, Mid-night? and all Eyes
Blind with the Pin and Web, but theirs; theirs onely,
That would vnseene be wicked? Is this nothing?
Why then the World, and all that's in't, is nothing,
The couering Skie is nothing, Bohemia nothing,
My Wife is nothing, nor Nothing haue these Nothings,
If this be nothing
Cam. Good my Lord, be cur'd
Of this diseas'd Opinion, and betimes,
For 'tis most dangerous
Leo. Say it be, 'tis true
Cam. No, no, my Lord
Leo. It is: you lye, you lye:
I say thou lyest Camillo, and I hate thee,
Pronounce thee a grosse Lowt, a mindlesse Slaue,
Or else a houering Temporizer, that
Canst with thine eyes at once see good and euill,
Inclining to them both: were my Wiues Liuer
Infected (as her life) she would not liue
The running of one Glasse
Cam. Who do's infect her?
Leo. Why he that weares her like her Medull, hanging
About his neck (Bohemia) who, if I
Had Seruants true about me, that bare eyes
To see alike mine Honor, as their Profits,
(Their owne particular Thrifts) they would doe that
Which should vndoe more doing: I, and thou
His Cup-bearer, whom I from meaner forme
Haue Bench'd, and rear'd to Worship, who may'st see
Plainely, as Heauen sees Earth, and Earth sees Heauen,
How I am gall'd, might'st be-spice a Cup,
To giue mine Enemy a lasting Winke:
Which Draught to me, were cordiall
Cam. Sir (my Lord)
I could doe this, and that with no rash Potion,
But with a lingring Dram, that should not worke
Maliciously, like Poyson: But I cannot
Beleeue this Crack to be in my dread Mistresse
(So soueraignely being Honorable.)
I haue lou'd thee,
Leo. Make that thy question, and goe rot:
Do'st thinke I am so muddy, so vnsetled,
To appoint my selfe in this vexation?
Sully the puritie and whitenesse of my Sheetes
(Which to preserue, is Sleepe; which being spotted,
Is Goades, Thornes, Nettles, Tayles of Waspes)
Giue scandall to the blood o'th' Prince, my Sonne,
(Who I doe thinke is mine, and loue as mine)
Without ripe mouing to't? Would I doe this?
Could man so blench?
Cam. I must beleeue you (Sir)
I doe, and will fetch off Bohemia for't:
Prouided, that when hee's remou'd, your Highnesse
Will take againe your Queene, as yours at first,
Euen for your Sonnes sake, and thereby for sealing
The Iniurie of Tongues, in Courts and Kingdomes
Knowne, and ally'd to yours
Leo. Thou do'st aduise me,
Euen so as I mine owne course haue set downe:
Ile giue no blemish to her Honor, none
Cam. My Lord,
Goe then; and with a countenance as cleare
As Friendship weares at Feasts, keepe with Bohemia,
And with your Queene: I am his Cup-bearer,
If from me he haue wholesome Beueridge,
Account me not your Seruant
Leo. This is all:
Do't, and thou hast the one halfe of my heart;
Do't not, thou splitt'st thine owne
Cam. Ile do't, my Lord
Leo. I wil seeme friendly, as thou hast aduis'd me.
Exit
Cam. O miserable Lady. But for me,
What case stand I in? I must be the poysoner
Of good Polixenes, and my ground to do't,
Is the obedience to a Master; one,
Who in Rebellion with himselfe, will haue
All that are his, so too. To doe this deed,
Promotion followes: If I could find example
Of thousand's that had struck anoynted Kings,
And flourish'd after, Il'd not do't: But since
Nor Brasse, nor Stone, nor Parchment beares not one,
Let Villanie it selfe forswear't. I must
Forsake the Court: to do't, or no, is certaine
To me a breake-neck. Happy Starre raigne now,
Here comes Bohemia.
Enter Polixenes.
Pol. This is strange: Me thinkes
My fauor here begins to warpe. Not speake?
Good day Camillo
Cam. Hayle most Royall Sir
Pol. What is the Newes i'th' Court?
Cam. None rare (my Lord.)
Pol. The King hath on him such a countenance,
As he had lost some Prouince, and a Region
Lou'd, as he loues himselfe: euen now I met him
With customarie complement, when hee
Wafting his eyes to th' contrary, and falling
A Lippe of much contempt, speedes from me, and
So leaues me, to consider what is breeding,
That changes thus his Manners
Cam. I dare not know (my Lord.)
Pol. How, dare not? doe not? doe you know, and dare not?
Be intelligent to me, 'tis thereabouts:
For to your selfe, what you doe know, you must,
And cannot say, you dare not. Good Camillo,
Your chang'd complexions are to me a Mirror,
Which shewes me mine chang'd too: for I must be
A partie in this alteration, finding
My selfe thus alter'd with't
Cam. There is a sicknesse
Which puts some of vs in distemper, but
I cannot name the Disease, and it is caught
Of you, that yet are well
Pol. How caught of me?
Make me not sighted like the Basilisque.
I haue look'd on thousands, who haue sped the better
By my regard, but kill'd none so: Camillo,
As you are certainely a Gentleman, thereto
Clerke-like experienc'd, which no lesse adornes
Our Gentry, then our Parents Noble Names,
In whose successe we are gentle: I beseech you,
If you know ought which do's behoue my knowledge,
Thereof to be inform'd, imprison't not
In ignorant concealement
Cam. I may not answere
Pol. A Sicknesse caught of me, and yet I well?
I must be answer'd. Do'st thou heare Camillo,
I coniure thee, by all the parts of man,
Which Honor do's acknowledge, whereof the least
Is not this Suit of mine, that thou declare
What incidencie thou do'st ghesse of harme
Is creeping toward me; how farre off, how neere,
Which way to be preuented, if to be:
If not, how best to beare it
Cam. Sir, I will tell you,
Since I am charg'd in Honor, and by him
That I thinke Honorable: therefore marke my counsaile,
Which must be eu'n as swiftly followed, as
I meane to vtter it; or both your selfe, and me,
Cry lost, and so good night
Pol. On, good Camillo
Cam. I am appointed him to murther you
Pol. By whom, Camillo?
Cam. By the King
Pol. For what?
Cam. He thinkes, nay with all confidence he sweares,
As he had seen't, or beene an Instrument
To vice you to't, that you haue toucht his Queene
Forbiddenly
Pol. Oh then, my best blood turne
To an infected Gelly, and my Name
Be yoak'd with his, that did betray the Best:
Turne then my freshest Reputation to
A sauour, that may strike the dullest Nosthrill
Where I arriue, and my approch be shun'd,
Nay hated too, worse then the great'st Infection
That ere was heard, or read
Cam. Sweare his thought ouer
By each particular Starre in Heauen, and
By all their Influences; you may as well
Forbid the Sea for to obey the Moone,
As (or by Oath) remoue, or (Counsaile) shake
The Fabrick of his Folly, whose foundation
Is pyl'd vpon his Faith, and will continue
The standing of his Body
Pol. How should this grow?
Cam. I know not: but I am sure 'tis safer to
Auoid what's growne, then question how 'tis borne.
If therefore you dare trust my honestie,
That lyes enclosed in this Trunke, which you
Shall beare along impawnd, away to Night,
Your Followers I will whisper to the Businesse,
And will by twoes, and threes, at seuerall Posternes,
Cleare them o'th' Citie: For my selfe, Ile put
My fortunes to your seruice (which are here
By this discouerie lost.) Be not vncertaine,
For by the honor of my Parents, I
Haue vttred Truth: which if you seeke to proue,
I dare not stand by; nor shall you be safer,
Then one condemnd by the Kings owne mouth:
Thereon his Execution sworne
Pol. I doe beleeue thee:
I saw his heart in's face. Giue 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 dayes agoe. This Iealousie
Is for a precious Creature: as shee's rare,
Must it be great; and, as his Person's mightie,
Must it be violent: and, as he do's conceiue,
He is dishonor'd by a man, which euer
Profess'd to him: why his Reuenges must
In that be made more bitter. Feare ore-shades me:
Good Expedition be my friend, and comfort
The gracious Queene, part of his Theame; but nothing
Of his ill-ta'ne suspition. Come Camillo,
I will respect thee as a Father, if
Thou bear'st my life off, hence: Let vs auoid
Cam. It is in mine authoritie to command
The Keyes of all the Posternes: Please your Highnesse
To take the vrgent houre. Come Sir, away.
Exeunt.
Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.
Enter Hermione, Mamillius, Ladies: Leontes, Antigonus, Lords.
Her. Take the Boy to you: he so troubles me,
'Tis past enduring
Lady. Come (my gracious Lord)
Shall I be your play-fellow?
Mam. No, Ile none of you
Lady. Why (my sweet Lord?)
Mam. You'le kisse me hard, and speake to me, as if
I were a Baby still. I loue you better
2.Lady. And why so (my Lord?)
Mam. Not for because
Your Browes are blacker (yet black-browes they say
Become some Women best, so that there be not
Too much haire there, but in a Cemicircle,
Or a halfe-Moone, made with a Pen.)
2.Lady. Who taught 'this?
Mam. I learn'd it out of Womens faces: pray now,
What colour are your eye-browes?
Lady. Blew (my Lord.)
Mam. Nay, that's a mock: I haue seene a Ladies Nose
That ha's beene blew, but not her eye-browes
Lady. Harke ye,
The Queene (your Mother) rounds apace: we shall
Present our seruices to a fine new Prince
One of these dayes, and then youl'd wanton with vs,
If we would haue you
2.Lady. She is spread of late
Into a goodly Bulke (good time encounter her.)
Her. What wisdome stirs amongst you? Come Sir, now
I am for you againe: 'Pray you sit by vs,
And tell's a Tale
Mam. Merry, or sad, shal't be?
Her. As merry as you will
Mam. A sad Tale's best for Winter:
I haue one of Sprights, and Goblins
Her. Let's haue that (good Sir.)
Come-on, sit downe, come-on, and doe your best,
To fright me with your Sprights: you're powrefull at it
Mam. There was a man
Her. Nay, come sit downe: then on
Mam. Dwelt by a Church-yard: I will tell it softly,
Yond Crickets shall not heare it
Her. Come on then, and giu't me in mine eare
Leon. Was hee met there? his Traine? Camillo with
him?
Lord. Behind the tuft of Pines I met them, neuer
Saw I men scowre so on their way: I eyed them
Euen to their Ships
Leo. How blest am I
In my iust Censure? in my true Opinion?
Alack, for lesser knowledge, how accurs'd,
In being so blest? There may be in the Cup
A Spider steep'd, and one may drinke; depart,
And yet partake no venome: (for his knowledge
Is not infected) but if one present
Th' abhor'd Ingredient to his eye, make knowne
How he hath drunke, he cracks his gorge, his sides
With violent Hefts: I haue drunke, and seene the Spider.
Camillo was his helpe in this, his Pandar:
There is a Plot against my Life, my Crowne;
All's true that is mistrusted: that false Villaine,
Whom I employ'd, was pre-employ'd by him:
He ha's discouer'd my Designe, and I
Remaine a pinch'd Thing; yea, a very Trick
For them to play at will: how came the Posternes
So easily open?
Lord. By his great authority,
Which often hath no lesse preuail'd, then so,
On your command
Leo. I know't too well.
Giue me the Boy, I am glad you did not nurse him:
Though he do's beare some signes of me, yet you
Haue too much blood in him
Her. What is this? Sport?
Leo. Beare the Boy hence, he shall not come about her,
Away with him, and let her sport her selfe
With that shee's big-with, for 'tis Polixenes
Ha's made thee swell thus
Her. But Il'd say he had not;
And Ile be sworne you would beleeue my saying,
How e're you leane to th' Nay-ward
Leo. You (my Lords)
Looke on her, marke her well: be but about
To say she is a goodly Lady, and
The iustice of your hearts will thereto adde
'Tis pitty shee's not honest: Honorable;
Prayse her but for this her without-dore-Forme,
(Which on my faith deserues high speech) and straight
The Shrug, the Hum, or Ha, (these Petty-brands
That Calumnie doth vse; Oh, I am out,
That Mercy do's, for Calumnie will seare
Vertue it selfe) these Shrugs, these Hum's, and Ha's,
When you haue said shee's goodly, come betweene,
Ere you can say shee's honest: But be't knowne
(From him that ha's most cause to grieue it should be)
Shee's an Adultresse
Her. Should a Villaine say so,
(The most replenish'd Villaine in the World)
He were as much more Villaine: you (my Lord)
Doe but mistake
Leo. You haue mistooke (my Lady)
Polixenes for Leontes: O thou Thing,
(Which Ile not call a Creature of thy place,
Least Barbarisme (making me the precedent)
Should a like Language vse to all degrees,
And mannerly distinguishment leaue out,
Betwixt the Prince and Begger:) I haue said
Shee's an Adultresse, I haue said with whom:
More; shee's a Traytor, and Camillo is
A Federarie with her, and one that knowes
What she should shame to know her selfe,
But with her most vild Principall: that shee's
A Bed-swaruer, euen as bad as those
That Vulgars giue bold'st Titles; I, and priuy
To this their late escape
Her. No (by my life)
Priuy to none of this: how will this grieue you,
When you shall come to clearer knowledge, that
You thus haue publish'd me? Gentle my Lord,
You scarce can right me throughly, then, to say
You did mistake
Leo. No: if I mistake
In those Foundations which I build vpon,
The Centre is not bigge enough to beare
A Schoole-Boyes Top. Away with her, to Prison:
He who shall speake for her, is a farre-off guiltie,
But that he speakes
Her. There's some ill Planet raignes:
I must be patient, till the Heauens looke
With an aspect more fauorable. Good my Lords,
I am not prone to weeping (as our Sex
Commonly are) the want of which vaine dew
Perchance shall dry your pitties: but I haue
That honorable Griefe lodg'd here, which burnes
Worse then Teares drowne: 'beseech you all (my Lords)
With thoughts so qualified, as your Charities
Shall best instruct you, measure me; and so
The Kings will be perform'd
Leo. Shall I be heard?
Her. Who is't that goes with me? 'beseech your Highnes
My Women may be with me, for you see
My plight requires it. Doe not weepe (good Fooles)
There is no cause: When you shall know your Mistris
Ha's deseru'd Prison, then abound in Teares,
As I come out; this Action I now goe on,
Is for my better grace. Adieu (my Lord)
I neuer wish'd to see you sorry, now
I trust I shall: my Women come, you haue leaue
Leo. Goe, doe our bidding: hence
Lord. Beseech your Highnesse call the Queene againe
Antig. Be certaine what you do (Sir) least your Iustice
Proue violence, in the which three great ones suffer,
Your Selfe, your Queene, your Sonne
Lord. For her (my Lord)
I dare my life lay downe, and will do't (Sir)
Please you t' accept it, that the Queene is spotlesse
I'th' eyes of Heauen, and to you (I meane
In this, which you accuse her.)
Antig. If it proue
Shee's otherwise, Ile keepe my Stables where
I lodge my Wife, Ile goe in couples with her:
Then when I feele, and see her, no farther trust her:
For euery ynch of Woman in the World,
I, euery dram of Womans flesh is false,
If she be
Leo. Hold your peaces
Lord. Good my Lord
Antig. It is for you we speake, not for our selues:
You are abus'd, and by some putter on,
That will be damn'd for't: would I knew the Villaine,
I would Land-damne him: be she honor-flaw'd,
I haue three daughters: the eldest is eleuen;
The second, and the third, nine: and some fiue:
If this proue true, they'l pay for't. By mine Honor
Ile gell'd em all: fourteene they shall not see
To bring false generations: they are co-heyres,
And I had rather glib my selfe, then they
Should not produce faire issue
Leo. Cease, no more:
You smell this businesse with a sence as cold
As is a dead-mans nose: but I do see't, and feel't,
As you feele doing thus: and see withall
The Instruments that feele
Antig. If it be so,
We neede no graue to burie honesty,
There's not a graine of it, the face to sweeten
Of the whole dungy-earth
Leo. What? lacke I credit?
Lord. I had rather you did lacke then I (my Lord)
Vpon this ground: and more it would content me
To haue her Honor true, then your suspition
Be blam'd for't how you might
Leo. Why what neede we
Commune with you of this? but rather follow
Our forcefull instigation? Our prerogatiue
Cals not your Counsailes, but our naturall goodnesse
Imparts this: which, if you, or stupified,
Or seeming so, in skill, cannot, or will not
Rellish a truth, like vs: informe your selues,
We neede no more of your aduice: the matter,
The losse, the gaine, the ord'ring on't,
Is all properly ours
Antig. And I wish (my Liege)
You had onely in your silent iudgement tride it,
Without more ouerture
Leo. How could that be?
Either thou art most ignorant by age,
Or thou wer't borne a foole: Camillo's flight
Added to their Familiarity
(Which was as grosse, as euer touch'd coniecture,
That lack'd sight onely, nought for approbation
But onely seeing, all other circumstances
Made vp to'th deed) doth push-on this proceeding.
Yet, for a greater confirmation
(For in an Acte of this importance, 'twere
Most pitteous to be wilde) I haue dispatch'd in post,
To sacred Delphos, to Appollo's Temple,
Cleomines and Dion, whom you know
Of stuff'd-sufficiency: Now, from the Oracle
They will bring all, whose spirituall counsaile had
Shall stop, or spurre me. Haue I done well?
Lord. Well done (my Lord.)
Leo. Though I am satisfide, and neede no more
Then what I know, yet shall the Oracle
Giue rest to th' mindes of others; such as he
Whose ignorant credulitie, will not
Come vp to th' truth. So haue we thought it good
From our free person, she should be confinde,
Least that the treachery of the two, fled hence,
Be left her to performe. Come follow vs,
We are to speake in publique: for this businesse
Will raise vs all
Antig. To laughter, as I take it,
If the good truth, were knowne.
Exeunt.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Paulina, a Gentleman, Gaoler, Emilia.
Paul. The Keeper of the prison, call to him:
Let him haue knowledge who I am. Good Lady,
No Court in Europe is too good for thee,
What dost thou then in prison? Now good Sir,
You know me, do you not?
Gao. For a worthy Lady,
And one, who much I honour
Pau. Pray you then,
Conduct me to the Queene
Gao. I may not (Madam)
To the contrary I haue expresse commandment
Pau. Here's ado, to locke vp honesty & honour from
Th' accesse of gentle visitors. Is't lawfull pray you
To see her Women? Any of them? Emilia?
Gao. So please you (Madam)
To put a-part these your attendants, I
Shall bring Emilia forth
Pau. I pray now call her:
With-draw your selues
Gao. And Madam,
I must be present at your Conference
Pau. Well: be't so: prethee.
Heere's such adoe, to make no staine, a staine,
As passes colouring. Deare Gentlewoman,
How fares our gracious Lady?
Emil. As well as one so great, and so forlorne
May hold together: On her frights, and greefes
(Which neuer tender Lady hath borne greater)
She is, something before her time, deliuer'd
Pau. A boy?
Emil. A daughter, and a goodly babe,
Lusty, and like to liue: the Queene receiues
Much comfort in't: Sayes, my poore prisoner,
I am innocent as you,
Pau. I dare be sworne:
These dangerous, vnsafe Lunes i'th' King, beshrew them:
He must be told on't, and he shall: the office
Becomes a woman best. Ile take't vpon me,
If I proue hony-mouth'd, let my tongue blister.
And neuer to my red-look'd Anger bee
The Trumpet any more: pray you (Emilia)
Commend my best obedience to the Queene,
If she dares trust me with her little babe,
I'le shew't the King, and vndertake to bee
Her Aduocate to th' lowd'st. We do not know
How he may soften at the sight o'th' Childe:
The silence often of pure innocence
Perswades, when speaking failes
Emil. Most worthy Madam,
Your honor, and your goodnesse is so euident,
That your free vndertaking cannot misse
A thriuing yssue: there is no Lady liuing
So meete for this great errand; please your Ladiship
To visit the next roome, Ile presently
Acquaint the Queene of your most noble offer,
Who, but to day hammered of this designe,
But durst not tempt a minister of honour
Least she should be deny'd
Paul. Tell her (Emilia)
Ile vse that tongue I haue: If wit flow from't
As boldnesse from my bosome, le't not be doubted
I shall do good,
Emil. Now be you blest for it.
Ile to the Queene: please you come something neerer
Gao. Madam, if't please the Queene to send the babe,
I know not what I shall incurre, to passe it,
Hauing no warrant
Pau. You neede not feare it (sir)
This Childe was prisoner to the wombe, and is
By Law and processe of great Nature, thence
Free'd, and enfranchis'd, not a partie to
The anger of the King, nor guilty of
(If any be) the trespasse of the Queene
Gao. I do beleeue it
Paul. Do not you feare: vpon mine honor, I
Will stand betwixt you, and danger.
Exeunt.
Scaena Tertia.
Enter Leontes, Seruants, Paulina, Antigonus, and Lords.
Leo. Nor night, nor day, no rest: It is but weaknesse
To beare the matter thus: meere weaknesse, if
The cause were not in being: part o'th cause,
She, th' Adultresse: for the harlot-King
Is quite beyond mine Arme, out of the blanke
And leuell of my braine: plot-proofe: but shee,
I can hooke to me: say that she were gone,
Giuen to the fire, a moity of my rest
Might come to me againe. Whose there?
Ser. My Lord
Leo. How do's the boy?
Ser. He tooke good rest to night: 'tis hop'd
His sicknesse is discharg'd
Leo. To see his Noblenesse,
Conceyuing the dishonour of his Mother.
He straight declin'd, droop'd, tooke it deeply,
Fasten'd, and fix'd the shame on't in himselfe:
Threw-off his Spirit, his Appetite, his Sleepe,
And down-right languish'd. Leaue me solely: goe,
See how he fares: Fie, fie, no thought of him,
The very thought of my Reuenges that way
Recoyle vpon me: in himselfe too mightie,
And in his parties, his Alliance; Let him be,
Vntill a time may serue. 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 powre.
Enter Paulina.
Lord. You must not enter
Paul. Nay rather (good my Lords) be second to me:
Feare you his tyrannous passion more (alas)
Then the Queenes life? A gracious innocent soule,
More free, then he is iealous
Antig. That's enough
Ser. Madam; he hath not slept to night, commanded
None should come at him
Pau. Not so hot (good Sir)
I come to bring him sleepe. 'Tis such as you
That creepe like shadowes by him, and do sighe
At each his needlesse heauings: such as you
Nourish the cause of his awaking. I
Do come with words, as medicinall, as true;
(Honest, as either;) to purge him of that humor,
That presses him from sleepe
Leo. Who noyse there, hoe?
Pau. No noyse (my Lord) but needfull conference,
About some Gossips for your Highnesse
Leo. How?
Away with that audacious Lady. Antigonus,
I charg'd thee that she should not come about me,
I knew she would
Ant. I told her so (my Lord)
On your displeasures perill, and on mine,
She should not visit you
Leo. What? canst not rule her?
Paul. From all dishonestie he can: in this
(Vnlesse he take the course that you haue done)
Commit me, for committing honor, trust it,
He shall not rule me:
Ant. La-you now, you heare,
When she will take the raine, I let her run,
But shee'l not stumble
Paul. Good my Liege, I come:
And I beseech you heare me, who professes
My selfe your loyall Seruant, your Physitian,
Your most obedient Counsailor: yet that dares
Lesse appeare so, in comforting your Euilles,
Then such as most seeme yours. I say, I come
From your good Queene
Leo. Good Queene?
Paul. Good Queene (my Lord) good Queene,
I say good Queene,
And would by combate, make her good so, were I
A man, the worst about you
Leo. Force her hence
Pau. Let him that makes but trifles of his eyes
First hand me: on mine owne accord, Ile off,
But first, Ile do my errand. The good Queene
(For she is good) hath brought you forth a daughter,
Heere 'tis. Commends it to your blessing
Leo. Out:
A mankinde Witch? Hence with her, out o' dore:
A most intelligencing bawd
Paul. Not so:
I am as ignorant in that, as you,
In so entit'ling me: and no lesse honest
Then you are mad: which is enough, Ile warrant
(As this world goes) to passe for honest:
Leo. Traitors;
Will you not push her out? Giue her the Bastard,
Thou dotard, thou art woman-tyr'd: vnroosted
By thy dame Partlet heere. Take vp the Bastard,
Take't vp, I say: giue't to thy Croane
Paul. For euer
Vnvenerable be thy hands, if thou
Tak'st vp the Princesse, by that forced basenesse
Which he ha's put vpon't
Leo. He dreads his Wife
Paul. So I would you did: then 'twere past all doubt
Youl'd call your children, yours
Leo. A nest of Traitors
Ant. I am none, by this good light
Pau. Nor I: nor any
But one that's heere: and that's himselfe: for he,
The sacred Honor of himselfe, his Queenes,
His hopefull Sonnes, his Babes, betrayes to Slander,
Whose sting is sharper then the Swords; and will not
(For as the case now stands, it is a Curse
He cannot be compell'd too't) once remoue
The Root of his Opinion, which is rotten,
As euer Oake, or Stone was sound
Leo. A Callat
Of boundlesse tongue, who late hath beat her Husband,
And now bayts 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
Paul. It is yours:
And might we lay th' old Prouerb to your charge,
So like you, 'tis the worse. Behold (my Lords)
Although the Print be little, the whole Matter
And Coppy of the Father: (Eye, Nose, Lippe,
The trick of's Frowne, his Fore-head, nay, the Valley,
The pretty dimples of his Chin, and Cheeke; his Smiles:
The very Mold, and frame of Hand, Nayle, Finger.)
And thou good Goddesse 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, least she suspect, as he do's,
Her Children, not her Husbands
Leo. A grosse Hagge:
And Lozell, thou art worthy to be hang'd,
That wilt not stay her Tongue
Antig. Hang all the Husbands
That cannot doe that Feat, you'le leaue your selfe
Hardly one Subiect
Leo. Once more take her hence
Paul. A most vnworthy, and vnnaturall Lord
Can doe no more
Leo. Ile ha' thee burnt
Paul. I care not:
It is an Heretique that makes the fire,
Not she which burnes in't. Ile not call you Tyrant:
But this most cruell vsage of your Queene
(Not able to produce more accusation
Then your owne weake-hindg'd Fancy) something sauors
Of Tyrannie, and will ignoble make you,
Yea, scandalous to the World
Leo. On your Allegeance,
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
Paul. I pray you doe not push me, Ile be gone.
Looke to your Babe (my Lord) 'tis yours: Ioue send her
A better guiding Spirit. What needs these hands?
You that are thus so tender o're his Follyes,
Will neuer doe him good, not one of you.
So, so: Farewell, we are gone.
Enter.
Leo. Thou (Traytor) hast set on thy Wife to this.
My Child? away with't? euen thou, that hast
A heart so tender o're it, take it hence,
And see it instantly consum'd with fire.
Euen thou, and none but thou. Take it vp straight:
Within this houre bring me word 'tis done,
(And by good testimonie) or Ile seize thy life,
With what thou else call'st thine: if thou refuse,
And wilt encounter with my Wrath, say so;
The Bastard-braynes with these my proper hands
Shall I dash out. Goe, take it to the fire,
For thou sett'st on thy Wife
Antig. I did not, Sir:
These Lords, my Noble Fellowes, if they please,
Can cleare me in't
Lords. We can: my Royall Liege,
He is not guiltie of her comming hither
Leo. You're lyers all
Lord. Beseech your Highnesse, giue vs better credit:
We haue alwayes truly seru'd you, and beseech'
So to esteeme of vs: and on our knees we begge,
(As recompence of our deare seruices
Past, and to come) that you doe change this purpose,
Which being so horrible, so bloody, must
Lead on to some foule Issue. We all kneele
Leo. I am a Feather for each Wind that blows:
Shall I liue on, to see this Bastard kneele,
And call me Father? better burne it now,
Then curse it then. But be it: let it liue.
It shall not neyther. You Sir, come you hither:
You that haue beene so tenderly officious
With Lady Margerie, your Mid-wife there,
To saue this Bastards life; for 'tis a Bastard,
So sure as this Beard's gray. What will you aduenture,
To saue this Brats life?
Antig. Any thing (my Lord)
That my abilitie may vndergoe,
And Noblenesse impose: at least thus much;
Ile pawne the little blood which I haue left,
To saue the Innocent: any thing possible
Leo. It shall be possible: Sweare by this Sword
Thou wilt performe my bidding
Antig. I will (my Lord.)
Leo. Marke, and performe it: seest thou? for the faile
Of any point in't, shall not onely be
Death to thy selfe, but to thy lewd-tongu'd Wife,
(Whom for this time we pardon) We enioyne thee,
As thou art Liege-man to vs, that thou carry
This female Bastard hence, and that thou beare it
To some remote and desart place, quite out
Of our Dominions; and that there thou leaue it
(Without more mercy) to it owne protection,
And fauour of the Climate: as by strange fortune
It came to vs, I doe in Iustice charge thee,
On thy Soules perill, and thy Bodyes torture,
That thou commend it strangely to some place,
Where Chance may nurse, or end it: take it vp
Antig. I sweare to doe this: though a present death
Had beene more mercifull. Come on (poore Babe)
Some powerfull Spirit instruct the Kytes and Rauens
To be thy Nurses. Wolues and Beares, they say,
(Casting their sauagenesse aside) haue done
Like offices of Pitty. Sir, be prosperous
In more then this deed do's require; and Blessing
Against this Crueltie, fight on thy side
(Poore Thing, condemn'd to losse.)
Enter.
Leo. No: Ile not reare
Anothers Issue.
Enter a Seruant.
Seru. Please' your Highnesse, Posts
From those you sent to th' Oracle, are come
An houre since: Cleomines and Dion,
Being well arriu'd from Delphos, are both landed,
Hasting to th' Court
Lord. So please you (Sir) their speed
Hath beene beyond accompt
Leo. Twentie three dayes
They haue beene absent: 'tis good speed: fore-tells
The great Apollo suddenly will haue
The truth of this appeare: Prepare you Lords,
Summon a Session, that we may arraigne
Our most disloyall Lady: for as she hath
Been publikely accus'd, so shall she haue
A iust and open Triall. While she liues,
My heart will be a burthen to me. Leaue me,
And thinke vpon my bidding.
Exeunt.
Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.
Enter Cleomines and Dion.
Cleo. The Clymat's delicate, the Ayre most sweet,
Fertile the Isle, the Temple much surpassing
The common prayse it beares
Dion. I shall report,
For most it caught me, the Celestiall Habits,
(Me thinkes I so should terme them) and the reuerence
Of the graue Wearers. O, the Sacrifice,
How ceremonious, solemne, and vn-earthly
It was i'th' Offring?
Cleo. But of all, the burst
And the eare-deaff'ning Voyce o'th' Oracle,
Kin to Ioues Thunder, so surpriz'd my Sence,
That I was nothing
Dio. If th' euent o'th' Iourney
Proue as successefull to the Queene (O be't so)
As it hath beene to vs, rare, pleasant, speedie,
The time is worth the vse on't
Cleo. Great Apollo
Turne all to th' best: these Proclamations,
So forcing faults vpon Hermione,
I little like
Dio. The violent carriage of it
Will cleare, or end the Businesse, when the Oracle
(Thus by Apollo's great Diuine seal'd vp)
Shall the Contents discouer: something rare
Euen then will rush to knowledge. Goe: fresh Horses,
And gracious be the issue.
Exeunt.
Scoena Secunda.
Enter Leontes, Lords, Officers: Hermione (as to her Triall) Ladies:
Cleomines, Dion.
Leo. This Sessions (to our great griefe we pronounce)
Euen pushes 'gainst our heart. The partie try'd,
The Daughter of a King, our Wife, and one
Of vs too much belou'd. Let vs be clear'd
Of being tyrannous, since we so openly
Proceed in Iustice, which shall haue due course,
Euen to the Guilt, or the Purgation:
Produce the Prisoner
Officer. It is his Highnesse pleasure, that the Queene
Appeare in person, here in Court. Silence
Leo. Reade the Indictment
Officer. Hermione, Queene 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 Soueraigne Lord the King, thy Royall Husband: the pretence whereof being by circumstances partly layd open, thou (Hermione) contrary to the Faith and Allegeance of a true Subiect, didst counsaile and ayde them, for their better safetie, to flye away by Night
Her. Since what I am to say, must be but that
Which contradicts my Accusation, and
The testimonie on my part, no other
But what comes from my selfe, it shall scarce boot me
To say, Not guiltie: mine Integritie
Being counted Falsehood, shall (as I expresse it)
Be so receiu'd. But thus, if Powres Diuine
Behold our humane Actions (as they doe)
I doubt not then, but Innocence shall make
False Accusation blush, and Tyrannie
Tremble at Patience. You (my Lord) best know
(Whom least will seeme to doe so) my past life
Hath beene as continent, as chaste, as true,
As I am now vnhappy; which is more
Then Historie can patterne, though deuis'd,
And play'd, to take Spectators. For behold me,
A Fellow of the Royall Bed, which owe
A Moitie of the Throne: a great Kings Daughter,
The Mother to a hopefull Prince, here standing
To prate and talke for Life, and Honor, fore
Who please to come, and heare. For Life, I prize it
As I weigh Griefe (which I would spare:) For Honor,
'Tis a deriuatiue from me to mine,
And onely that I stand for. I appeale
To your owne 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 vncurrant, I
Haue strayn'd t' appeare thus; if one iot beyond
The bound of Honor, or in act, or will
That way enclining, hardned be the hearts
Of all that heare me, and my neer'st of Kin
Cry fie vpon my Graue
Leo. I ne're heard yet,
That any of these bolder Vices wanted
Lesse Impudence to gaine-say what they did,
Then to performe it first
Her. That's true enough,
Though 'tis a saying (Sir) not due to me
Leo. You will not owne it
Her. More then Mistresse of,
Which comes to me in name of Fault, I must not
At all acknowledge. For Polixenes
(With whom I am accus'd) I doe confesse
I lou'd him, as in Honor he requir'd:
With such a kind of Loue, as might become
A Lady like me; with a Loue, euen such,
So, and no other, as your selfe commanded:
Which, not to haue done, I thinke had been in me
Both Disobedience, and Ingratitude
To you, and toward your Friend, whose Loue had spoke,
Euen since it could speake, from an Infant, freely,
That it was yours. Now for Conspiracie,
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 themselues
(Wotting no more then I) are ignorant
Leo. You knew of his departure, as you know
What you haue vnderta'ne to doe in's absence
Her. Sir,
You speake a Language that I vnderstand not:
My Life stands in the leuell of your Dreames,
Which Ile lay downe
Leo. Your Actions are my Dreames.
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, concernes more then auailes: for as
Thy Brat hath been cast out, like to it selfe,
No Father owning it (which is indeed
More criminall in thee, then it) so thou
Shalt feele our Iustice; in whose easiest passage,
Looke for no lesse then death
Her. Sir, spare your Threats:
The Bugge which you would fright me with, I seeke:
To me can Life be no commoditie;
The crowne and comfort of my Life (your Fauor)
I doe giue lost, for I doe feele it gone,
But know not how it went. My second Ioy,
And first Fruits of my body, from his presence
I am bar'd, like one infectious. My third comfort
(Star'd most vnluckily) is from my breast
(The innocent milke in it most innocent mouth)
Hal'd out to murther. My selfe on euery Post
Proclaym'd a Strumpet: With immodest hatred
The Child-bed priuiledge deny'd, which longs
To Women of all fashion. Lastly, hurried
Here, to this place, i'th' open ayre, before
I haue got strength of limit. Now (my Liege)
Tell me what blessings I haue here aliue,
That I should feare to die? Therefore proceed:
But yet heare this: mistake me not: no Life,
(I prize it not a straw) but for mine Honor,
Which I would free: if I shall be condemn'd
Vpon surmizes (all proofes sleeping else,
But what your Iealousies awake) I tell you
'Tis Rigor, and not Law. Your Honors all,
I doe referre me to the Oracle:
Apollo be my Iudge
Lord. This your request
Is altogether iust: therefore bring forth
(And in Apollo's Name) his Oracle
Her. The Emperor of Russia was my Father.
Oh that he were aliue, and here beholding
His Daughters Tryall: that he did but see
The flatnesse of my miserie; yet with eyes
Of Pitty, not Reuenge
Officer. You here shal sweare vpon this Sword of Iustice,
That you (Cleomines and Dion) haue
Been both at Delphos, and from thence haue brought
This seal'd-vp Oracle, by the Hand deliuer'd
Of great Apollo's Priest; and that since then,
You haue not dar'd to breake the holy Seale,
Nor read the Secrets in't
Cleo. Dio. All this we sweare
Leo. Breake vp the Seales, and read
Officer. Hermione is chast, Polixenes blamelesse, Camillo a true Subiect, Leontes a iealous Tyrant, his innocent Babe truly begotten, and the King shall liue without an Heire, if that which is lost, be not found
Lords. Now blessed be the great Apollo
Her. Praysed
Leo. Hast thou read truth?
Offic. I (my Lord) euen so as it is here set downe
Leo. There is no truth at all i'th' Oracle:
The Sessions shall proceed: this is meere falsehood
Ser. My Lord the King: the King?
Leo. What is the businesse?
Ser. O Sir, I shall be hated to report it.
The Prince your Sonne, with meere conceit, and feare
Of the Queenes speed, is gone
Leo. How? gone?
Ser. Is dead
Leo. Apollo's angry, and the Heauens themselues
Doe strike at my Iniustice. How now there?
Paul. This newes is mortall to the Queene: Look downe
And see what Death is doing
Leo. Take her hence:
Her heart is but o're-charg'd: she will recouer.
I haue too much beleeu'd mine owne suspition:
'Beseech you tenderly apply to her
Some remedies for life. Apollo pardon
My great prophanenesse 'gainst thine Oracle.
Ile reconcile me to Polixenes,
New woe my Queene, recall the good Camillo
(Whom I proclaime a man of Truth, of Mercy:)
For being transported by my Iealousies
To bloody thoughts, and to reuenge, I chose
Camillo for the minister, to poyson
My friend Polixenes: which had been done,
But that the good mind of Camillo tardied
My swift command: though I with Death, and with
Reward, did threaten and encourage him,
Not doing it, and being done: he (most humane,
And fill'd with Honor) to my Kingly Guest
Vnclasp'd my practise, quit his fortunes here
(Which you knew great) and to the hazard
Of all Incertainties, himselfe commended,
No richer then his Honor: How he glisters
Through my Rust? and how his Pietie
Do's my deeds make the blacker?
Paul. Woe the while:
O cut my Lace, least my heart (cracking it)
Breake too
Lord. What fit is this? good Lady?
Paul. What studied torments (Tyrant) hast for me?
What Wheeles? Racks? Fires? What flaying? boyling?
In Leads, or Oyles? What old, or newer Torture
Must I receiue? whose euery word deserues
To taste of thy most worst. Thy Tyranny
(Together working with thy Iealousies,
Fancies too weake for Boyes, too greene and idle
For Girles of Nine) O thinke what they haue done,
And then run mad indeed: starke-mad: for all
Thy by-gone fooleries were but spices of it.
That thou betrayed'st Polixenes, 'twas nothing,
(That did but shew thee, of a Foole, inconstant,
And damnable ingratefull:) Nor was't much.
Thou would'st haue poyson'd good Camillo's Honor,
To haue him kill a King: poore Trespasses,
More monstrous standing by: whereof I reckon
The casting forth to Crowes, thy Baby-daughter,
To be or none, or little; though a Deuill
Would haue shed water out of fire, ere don't;
Nor is't directly layd to thee, the death
Of the young Prince, whose honorable thoughts
(Thoughts high for one so tender) cleft the heart
That could conceiue a grosse and foolish Sire
Blemish'd his gracious Dam: this is not, no,
Layd to thy answere: but the last: O Lords,
When I haue said, cry woe: the Queene, the Queene,
The sweet'st, deer'st creature's dead: & vengeance for't
Not drop'd downe yet
Lord. The higher powres forbid
Pau. I say she's dead: Ile swear't. If word, nor oath
Preuaile not, go and see: if you can bring
Tincture, or lustre in her lip, her eye
Heate outwardly, or breath within, Ile serue you
As I would do the Gods. But, O thou Tyrant,
Do not repent these things, for they are heauier
Then all thy woes can stirre: therefore betake thee
To nothing but dispaire. A thousand knees,
Ten thousand yeares together, naked, fasting,
Vpon a barren Mountaine, and still Winter
In storme perpetuall, could not moue the Gods
To looke that way thou wer't
Leo. Go on, go on:
Thou canst not speake too much, I haue deseru'd
All tongues to talke their bittrest
Lord. Say no more;
How ere the businesse goes, you haue made fault
I'th boldnesse of your speech
Pau. I am sorry for't;
All faults I make, when I shall come to know them,
I do repent: Alas, I haue shew'd too much
The rashnesse of a woman: he is toucht
To th' Noble heart. What's gone, and what's past helpe
Should be past greefe: Do not receiue affliction
At my petition; I beseech you, rather
Let me be punish'd, that haue minded you
Of what you should forget. Now (good my Liege)
Sir, Royall Sir, forgiue a foolish woman:
The loue I bore your Queene (Lo, foole againe)
Ile speake of her no more, nor of your Children:
Ile not remember you of my owne Lord,
(Who is lost too:) take your patience to you,
And Ile say nothing
Leo. Thou didst speake but well,
When most the truth: which I receyue much better,
Then to be pittied of thee. Prethee bring me
To the dead bodies of my Queene, and Sonne,
One graue shall be for both: Vpon them shall
The causes of their death appeare (vnto
Our shame perpetuall) once a day, Ile visit
The Chappell where they lye, and teares shed there
Shall be my recreation. So long as Nature
Will beare vp with this exercise, so long
I dayly vow to vse it. Come, and leade me
To these sorrowes.
Exeunt.
Scaena Tertia.
Enter Antigonus, a Marriner, Babe, Sheepeheard, and Clowne.
Ant. Thou art perfect then, our ship hath toucht vpon
The Desarts of Bohemia
Mar. I (my Lord) and feare
We haue Landed in ill time: the skies looke grimly,
And threaten present blusters. In my conscience
The heauens with that we haue in hand, are angry,
And frowne vpon's
Ant. Their sacred wil's be done: go get a-boord,
Looke to thy barke, Ile not be long before
I call vpon thee
Mar. Make your best haste, and go not
Too-farre i'th Land: 'tis like to be lowd weather,
Besides this place is famous for the Creatures
Of prey, that keepe vpon't
Antig. Go thou away,
Ile follow instantly
Mar. I am glad at heart
To be so ridde o'th businesse.
Exit
Ant. Come, poore babe;
I haue heard (but not beleeu'd) the Spirits o'th' dead
May walke againe: if such thing be, thy Mother
Appear'd to me last night: for ne're was dreame
So like a waking. To me comes a creature,
Sometimes her head on one side, some another,
I neuer saw a vessell of like sorrow
So fill'd, and so becomming: in pure white Robes
Like very sanctity she did approach
My Cabine where I lay: thrice bow'd before me,
And (gasping to begin some speech) her eyes
Became two spouts; the furie spent, anon
Did this breake from her. Good Antigonus,
Since Fate (against thy better disposition)
Hath made thy person for the Thrower-out
Of my poore babe, according to thine oath,
Places remote enough are in Bohemia,
There weepe, and leaue it crying: and for the babe
Is counted lost for euer, Perdita
I prethee call't: For this vngentle businesse
Put on thee, by my Lord, thou ne're shalt see
Thy Wife Paulina more: and so, with shriekes
She melted into Ayre. Affrighted much,
I did in time collect my selfe, and thought
This was so, and no slumber: Dreames, are toyes,
Yet for this once, yea superstitiously,
I will be squar'd by this. I do beleeue
Hermione hath suffer'd death, and that
Apollo would (this being indeede the issue
Of King Polixenes) it should heere be laide
(Either for life, or death) vpon the earth
Of it's right Father. Blossome, speed thee well,
There lye, and there thy charracter: there these,
Which may if Fortune please, both breed thee (pretty)
And still rest thine. The storme beginnes, poore wretch,
That for thy mothers fault, art thus expos'd
To losse, and what may follow. Weepe I cannot,
But my heart bleedes: and most accurst am I
To be by oath enioyn'd to this. Farewell,
The day frownes more and more: thou'rt like to haue
A lullabie too rough: I neuer saw
The heauens so dim, by day. A sauage clamor?
Well may I get a-boord: This is the Chace,
I am gone for euer.
Exit pursued by a Beare.
Shep. I would there were no age betweene ten and three and twenty, or that youth would sleep out the rest: for there is nothing (in the betweene) but getting wenches with childe, wronging the Auncientry, stealing, fighting, hearke you now: would any but these boyldebraines of nineteene, and two and twenty hunt this weather? They haue scarr'd away two of my best Sheepe, which I feare the Wolfe will sooner finde then the Maister; if any where I haue them, 'tis by the sea-side, brouzing of Iuy. Good-lucke (and't be thy will) what haue we heere? Mercy on's, a Barne? A very pretty barne; A boy, or a Childe I wonder? (A pretty one, a verie prettie one) sure some Scape; Though I am not bookish, yet I can reade Waiting-Gentlewoman in the scape: this has beene some staire-worke, some Trunke-worke, some behinde-doore worke: they were warmer that got this, then the poore Thing is heere. Ile take it vp for pity, yet Ile tarry till my sonne come: he hallow'd but euen now. Whoa-ho-hoa. Enter Clowne.
Clo. Hilloa, loa
Shep. What? art so neere? If thou'lt see a thing to talke on, when thou art dead and rotten, come hither: what ayl'st thou, man? Clo. I haue seene two such sights, by Sea & by Land: but I am not to say it is a Sea, for it is now the skie, betwixt the Firmament and it, you cannot thrust a bodkins point
Shep. Why boy, how is it? Clo. I would you did but see how it chafes, how it rages, how it takes vp the shore, but that's not to the point: Oh, the most pitteous cry of the poore soules, sometimes to see 'em, and not to see 'em: Now the Shippe boaring the Moone with her maine Mast, and anon swallowed with yest and froth, as you'ld thrust a Corke into a hogshead. And then for the Land-seruice, to see how the Beare tore out his shoulder-bone, how he cride to mee for helpe, and said his name was Antigonus, a Nobleman: But to make an end of the Ship, to see how the Sea flapdragon'd it: but first, how the poore soules roared, and the sea mock'd them: and how the poore Gentleman roared, and the Beare mock'd him, both roaring lowder then the sea, or weather
Shep. Name of mercy, when was this boy?
Clo. Now, now: I haue not wink'd since I saw these
sights: the men are not yet cold vnder water, nor the
Beare halfe din'd on the Gentleman: he's at it now
Shep. Would I had bin by, to haue help'd the olde
man
Clo. I would you had beene by the ship side, to haue
help'd her; there your charity would haue lack'd footing
Shep. Heauy matters, heauy matters: but looke thee heere boy. Now blesse thy selfe: thou met'st with things dying, I with things new borne. Here's a sight for thee: Looke thee, a bearing-cloath for a Squires childe: looke thee heere, take vp, take vp (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? Clo. You're a mad olde man: If the sinnes of your youth are forgiuen you, you're well to liue. Golde, all Gold
Shep. This is Faiery Gold boy, and 'twill proue so: vp with't, keepe it close: home, home, the next way. We are luckie (boy) and to bee so still requires nothing but secrecie. Let my sheepe go: Come (good boy) the next way home
Clo. Go you the next way with your Findings, Ile go see if the Beare bee gone from the Gentleman, and how much he hath eaten: they are neuer curst but when they are hungry: if there be any of him left, Ile bury it
Shep. That's a good deed: if thou mayest discerne by that which is left of him, what he is, fetch me to th' sight of him
Clowne. 'Marry will I: and you shall helpe to put him
i'th' ground
Shep. 'Tis a lucky day, boy, and wee'l do good deeds
on't.
Exeunt.
Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.
Enter Time, the Chorus.
Time. I that please some, try all: both ioy and terror
Of good, and bad: that makes, and vnfolds error,
Now take vpon me (in the name of Time)
To vse my wings: Impute it not a crime
To me, or my swift passage, that I slide
Ore sixteene yeeres, and leaue the growth vntride
Of that wide gap, since it is in my powre
To orethrow Law, and in one selfe-borne howre
To plant, and orewhelme Custome. Let me passe
The same I am, ere ancient'st Order was,
Or what is now receiu'd. I witnesse to
The times that brought them in, so shall I do
To th' freshest things now reigning, and make stale
The glistering of this present, as my Tale
Now seemes to it: your patience this allowing,
I turne my glasse, and giue my Scene such growing
As you had slept betweene: Leontes leauing
Th' effects of his fond iealousies, so greeuing
That he shuts vp himselfe. Imagine me
(Gentle Spectators) that I now may be
In faire Bohemia, and remember well,
I mentioned a sonne o'th' Kings, which Florizell
I now name to you: and with speed so pace
To speake of Perdita, now growne in grace
Equall with wond'ring. What of her insues
I list not prophesie: but let Times newes
Be knowne when 'tis brought forth. A shepherds daughter
And what to her adheres, which followes after,
Is th' argument of Time: of this allow,
If euer you haue spent time worse, ere now:
If neuer, yet that Time himselfe doth say,
He wishes earnestly, you neuer may.
Enter.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Polixenes, and Camillo.
Pol. I pray thee (good Camillo) be no more importunate: 'tis a sicknesse denying thee any thing: a death to grant this
Cam. It is fifteene yeeres since I saw my Countrey: though I haue (for the most part) bin ayred abroad, I desire to lay my bones there. Besides, the penitent King (my Master) hath sent for me, to whose feeling sorrowes I might be some allay, or I oreweene to thinke so) which is another spurre to my departure
Pol. As thou lou'st me (Camillo) wipe not out the rest of thy seruices, by leauing me now: the neede I haue of thee, thine owne goodnesse hath made: better not to haue had thee, then thus to want thee, thou hauing made me Businesses, (which none (without thee) can sufficiently manage) must either stay to execute them thy selfe, or take away with thee the very seruices thou hast done: which if I haue not enough considered (as too much I cannot) to bee more thankefull to thee, shall bee my studie, and my profite therein, the heaping friendshippes. Of that fatall Countrey Sicillia, prethee speake no more, whose very naming, punnishes me with the remembrance of that penitent (as thou calst him) and reconciled King my brother, whose losse of his most precious Queene & Children, are euen now to be a-fresh lamented. Say to me, when saw'st thou the Prince Florizell my son? Kings are no lesse vnhappy, their issue, not being gracious, then they are in loosing them, when they haue approued their Vertues
Cam. Sir, it is three dayes since I saw the Prince: what his happier affayres may be, are to me vnknowne: but I haue (missingly) noted, he is of late much retyred from Court, and is lesse frequent to his Princely exercises then formerly he hath appeared
Pol. I haue considered so much (Camillo) and with some care, so farre, that I haue eyes vnder my seruice, which looke vpon his remouednesse: from whom I haue this Intelligence, that he is seldome from the house of a most homely shepheard: a man (they say) that from very nothing, and beyond the imagination of his neighbors, is growne into an vnspeakable estate
Cam. I haue heard (sir) of such a man, who hath a daughter of most rare note: the report of her is extended more, then can be thought to begin from such a cottage Pol. That's likewise part of my Intelligence: but (I feare) the Angle that pluckes our sonne thither. Thou shalt accompany vs to the place, where we will (not appearing what we are) haue some question with the shepheard; from whose simplicity, I thinke it not vneasie to get the cause of my sonnes resort thether. 'Prethe be my present partner in this busines, and lay aside the thoughts of Sicillia
Cam. I willingly obey your command
Pol. My best Camillo, we must disguise our selues.
Exit
Scena Tertia.
Enter Autolicus singing
When Daffadils begin to peere,
With heigh the Doxy ouer the dale,
Why then comes in the sweet o'the yeere,
For the red blood raigns in y winters pale.
The white sheete bleaching on the hedge,
With hey the sweet birds, O how they sing:
Doth set my pugging tooth an edge,
For a quart of Ale is a dish for a King.
The Larke, that tirra Lyra chaunts,
With heigh, the Thrush and the Iay:
Are Summer songs for me and my Aunts
While we lye tumbling in the hay.
I haue seru'd Prince Florizell, and in my time wore three
pile, but now I am out of seruice.
But shall I go mourne for that (my deere)
the pale Moone shines by night:
And when I wander here, and there
I then do most go right.
If Tinkers may haue leaue to liue,
and beare the Sow-skin Bowget,
Then my account I well may giue,
and in the Stockes auouch-it.
My Trafficke is sheetes: when the Kite builds, looke to
lesser Linnen. My Father nam'd me Autolicus, who being
(as I am) lytter'd vnder Mercurie, was likewise a
snapper-vp of vnconsidered trifles: With Dye and drab,
I purchas'd this Caparison, and my Reuennew is the silly
Cheate. Gallowes, and Knocke, are too powerfull on
the Highway. Beating and hanging are terrors to mee:
For the life to come, I sleepe out the thought of it. A
prize, a prize.
Enter Clowne.
Clo. Let me see, euery Leauen-weather toddes, euery
tod yeeldes pound and odde shilling: fifteene hundred
shorne, what comes the wooll too?
Aut. If the sprindge hold, the Cocke's mine
Clo. I cannot do't without Compters. Let mee see, what am I to buy for our Sheepe-shearing-Feast? Three pound of Sugar, fiue pound of Currence, Rice: What will this sister of mine do with Rice? But my father hath made her Mistris of the Feast, and she layes it on. Shee hath made-me four and twenty Nose-gayes for the shearers (three-man song-men, all, and very good ones) but they are most of them Meanes and Bases; but one Puritan amongst them, and he sings Psalmes to horne-pipes. I must haue Saffron to colour the Warden Pies, Mace: Dates, none: that's out of my note: Nutmegges, seuen; a Race or two of Ginger, but that I may begge: Foure pound of Prewyns, and as many of Reysons o'th Sun
Aut. Oh, that euer I was borne
Clo. I'th' name of me
Aut. Oh helpe me, helpe mee: plucke but off these
ragges: and then, death, death
Clo. Alacke poore soule, thou hast need of more rags
to lay on thee, rather then haue these off
Aut. Oh sir, the loathsomnesse of them offend mee, more then the stripes I haue receiued, which are mightie ones and millions
Clo. Alas poore man, a million of beating may come to a great matter
Aut. I am rob'd sir, and beaten: my money, and apparrell tane from me, and these detestable things put vpon me
Clo. What, by a horse-man, or a foot-man?
Aut. A footman (sweet sir) a footman
Clo. Indeed, he should be a footman, by the garments he has left with thee: If this bee a horsemans Coate, it hath seene very hot seruice. Lend me thy hand, Ile helpe thee. Come, lend me thy hand
Aut. Oh good sir, tenderly, oh
Clo. Alas poore soule
Aut. Oh good sir, softly, good sir: I feare (sir) my
shoulder-blade is out
Clo. How now? Canst stand?
Aut. Softly, deere sir: good sir, softly: you ha done
me a charitable office
Clo. Doest lacke any mony? I haue a little mony for
thee
Aut. No, good sweet sir: no, I beseech you sir: I haue a Kinsman not past three quarters of a mile hence, vnto whome I was going: I shall there haue money, or anie thing I want: Offer me no money I pray you, that killes my heart
Clow. What manner of Fellow was hee that robb'd you? Aut. A fellow (sir) that I haue knowne to goe about with Troll-my-dames: I knew him once a seruant of the Prince: I cannot tell good sir, for which of his Vertues it was, but hee was certainely Whipt out of the Court
Clo. His vices you would say: there's no vertue whipt out of the Court: they cherish it to make it stay there; and yet it will no more but abide
Aut. Vices I would say (Sir.) I know this man well, he hath bene since an Ape-bearer, then a Processe-seruer (a Bayliffe) then hee compast a Motion of the Prodigall sonne, and married a Tinkers wife, within a Mile where my Land and Liuing lyes; and (hauing flowne ouer many knauish professions) he setled onely in Rogue: some call him Autolicus
Clo. Out vpon him: Prig, for my life Prig: he haunts
Wakes, Faires, and Beare-baitings
Aut. Very true sir: he sir hee: that's the Rogue that
put me into this apparrell
Clo. Not a more cowardly Rogue in all Bohemia; If you had but look'd bigge, and spit at him, hee'ld haue runne
Aut. I must confesse to you (sir) I am no fighter: I am
false of heart that way, & that he knew I warrant him
Clo. How do you now?
Aut. Sweet sir, much better then I was: I can stand,
and walke: I will euen take my leaue of you, & pace softly
towards my Kinsmans
Clo. Shall I bring thee on the way?
Aut. No, good fac'd sir, no sweet sir
Clo. Then fartheewell, I must go buy Spices for our
sheepe-shearing.
Enter.
Aut. Prosper you sweet sir. Your purse is not hot enough to purchase your Spice: Ile be with you at your sheepe-shearing too: If I make not this Cheat bring out another, and the sheerers proue sheepe, let me be vnrold, and my name put in the booke of Vertue. Song. Iog-on, Iog-on, the foot-path way, And merrily hent the Stile-a: A merry heart goes all the day, Your sad tyres in a Mile-a. Enter.
Scena Quarta.
Enter Florizell, Perdita, Shepherd, Clowne, Polixenes, Camillo,
Mopsa,
Dorcas, Seruants, Autolicus.
Flo. These your vnvsuall weeds, to each part of you
Do's giue a life: no Shepherdesse, but Flora
Peering in Aprils front. This your sheepe-shearing,
Is as a meeting of the petty Gods,
And you the Queene on't
Perd. Sir: my gracious Lord,
To chide at your extreames, it not becomes me:
(Oh pardon, that I name them:) your high selfe
The gracious marke o'th' Land, you haue obscur'd
With a Swaines wearing: and me (poore lowly Maide)
Most Goddesse-like prank'd vp: But that our Feasts
In euery Messe, haue folly; and the Feeders
Digest with a Custome, I should blush
To see you so attyr'd: sworne I thinke,
To shew my selfe a glasse
Flo. I blesse the time
When my good Falcon, made her flight a-crosse
Thy Fathers ground
Perd. Now Ioue affoord you cause:
To me the difference forges dread (your Greatnesse
Hath not beene vs'd to feare:) euen now I tremble
To thinke your Father, by some accident
Should passe this way, as you did: Oh the Fates,
How would he looke, to see his worke, so noble,
Vildely bound vp? What would he say? Or how
Should I (in these my borrowed Flaunts) behold
The sternnesse of his presence?
Flo. Apprehend
Nothing but iollity: the Goddes themselues
(Humbling their Deities to loue) haue taken
The shapes of Beasts vpon them. Iupiter,
Became a Bull, and bellow'd: the greene Neptune
A Ram, and bleated: and the Fire-roab'd-God
Golden Apollo, a poore humble Swaine,
As I seeme now. Their transformations,
Were neuer for a peece of beauty, rarer,
Nor in a way so chaste: since my desires
Run not before mine honor: nor my Lusts
Burne hotter then my Faith
Perd. O but Sir,
Your resolution cannot hold, when 'tis
Oppos'd (as it must be) by th' powre of the King:
One of these two must be necessities,
Which then will speake, that you must change this purpose,
Or I my life
Flo. Thou deer'st Perdita,
With these forc'd thoughts, I prethee darken not
The Mirth o'th' Feast: Or Ile be thine (my Faire)
Or not my Fathers. For I cannot be
Mine owne, 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 comming:
Lift vp your countenance, as it were the day
Of celebration of that nuptiall, which
We two haue sworne shall come
Perd. O Lady Fortune,
Stand you auspicious
Flo. See, your Guests approach,
Addresse your selfe to entertaine them sprightly,
And let's be red with mirth
Shep. Fy (daughter) when my old wife liu'd: vpon
This day, she was both Pantler, Butler, Cooke,
Both Dame and Seruant: Welcom'd all: seru'd all,
Would sing her song, and dance her turne: now heere
At vpper end o'th Table; now, i'th middle:
On his shoulder, and his: her face o' fire
With labour, and the thing she tooke to quench it
She would to each one sip. You are retyred,
As if you were a feasted one: and not
The Hostesse of the meeting: Pray you bid
These vnknowne friends to's welcome, for it is
A way to make vs better Friends, more knowne.
Come, quench your blushes, and present your selfe
That which you are, Mistris o'th' Feast. Come on,
And bid vs welcome to your sheepe-shearing,
As your good flocke shall prosper
Perd. Sir, welcome:
It is my Fathers will, I should take on mee
The Hostesseship o'th' day: you're welcome sir.
Giue me those Flowres there (Dorcas.) Reuerend Sirs,
For you, there's Rosemary, and Rue, these keepe
Seeming, and sauour all the Winter long:
Grace, and Remembrance be to you both,
And welcome to our Shearing
Pol. Shepherdesse,
(A faire one are you:) well you fit our ages
With flowres of Winter
Perd. Sir, the yeare growing ancient,
Not yet on summers death, nor on the birth
Of trembling winter, the fayrest flowres o'th season
Are our Carnations, and streak'd Gilly-vors,
(Which some call Natures bastards) of that kind
Our rusticke Gardens barren, and I care not
To get slips of them
Pol. Wherefore (gentle Maiden)
Do you neglect them
Perd. For I haue heard it said,
There is an Art, which in their pidenesse shares
With great creating-Nature
Pol. Say there be:
Yet Nature is made better by no meane,
But Nature makes that Meane: so ouer that Art,
(Which you say addes to Nature) is an Art
That Nature makes: you see (sweet Maid) we marry
A gentler Sien, to the wildest Stocke,
And make conceyue a barke of baser kinde
By bud of Nobler race. This is an Art
Which do's mend Nature: change it rather, but
The Art it selfe, is Nature
Perd. So it is
Pol. Then make you Garden rich in Gilly' vors,
And do not call them bastards
Perd. Ile not put
The Dible in earth, to set one slip of them:
No more then were I painted, I would wish
This youth should say 'twer well: and onely therefore
Desire to breed by me. Here's flowres for you:
Hot Lauender, Mints, Sauory, Mariorum,
The Mary-gold, that goes to bed with' Sun,
And with him rises, weeping: These are flowres
Of middle summer, and I thinke they are giuen
To men of middle age. Y'are very welcome
Cam. I should leaue grasing, were I of your flocke,
And onely liue by gazing
Perd. Out alas:
You'ld be so leane, that blasts of Ianuary
Would blow you through and through. Now (my fairst Friend,
I would I had some Flowres o'th Spring, that might
Become your time of day: and yours, and yours,
That weare vpon your Virgin-branches yet
Your Maiden-heads growing: O Proserpina,
For the Flowres now, that (frighted) thou let'st fall
From Dysses Waggon: Daffadils,
That come before the Swallow dares, and take
The windes of March with beauty: Violets (dim,
But sweeter then the lids of Iuno's eyes,
Or Cytherea's breath) pale Prime-roses,
That dye vnmarried, ere they can behold
Bright Phoebus in his strength (a Maladie
Most incident to Maids:) bold Oxlips, and
The Crowne Imperiall: Lillies of all kinds,
(The Flowre-de-Luce being one.) O, these I lacke,
To make you Garlands of) and my sweet friend,
To strew him o're, and ore
Flo. What? like a Coarse?
Perd. No, like a banke, for Loue to lye, and play on:
Not like a Coarse: or if: not to be buried,
But quicke, and in mine armes. Come, take your flours,
Me thinkes I play as I haue seene them do
In Whitson-Pastorals: Sure this Robe of mine
Do's change my disposition:
Flo. What you do,
Still betters what is done. When you speake (Sweet)
I'ld haue you do it euer: When you sing,
I'ld haue you buy, and sell so: so giue Almes,
Pray so: and for the ord'ring your Affayres,
To sing them too. When you do dance, I wish you
A waue o'th Sea, that you might euer do
Nothing but that: moue still, still so:
And owne no other Function. Each your doing,
(So singular, in each particular)
Crownes what you are doing, in the present deeds,
That all your Actes, are Queenes
Perd. O Doricles,
Your praises are too large: but that your youth
And the true blood which peepes fairely through't,
Do plainly giue you out an vnstain'd Shepherd
With wisedome, I might feare (my Doricles)
You woo'd me the false way
Flo. I thinke you haue
As little skill to feare, as I haue purpose
To put you to't. But come, our dance I pray,
Your hand (my Perdita:) so Turtles paire
That neuer meane to part
Perd. Ile sweare for 'em
Pol. This is the prettiest Low-borne Lasse, that euer
Ran on the greene-sord: Nothing she do's, or seemes
But smackes of something greater then her selfe,
Too Noble for this place
Cam. He tels her something
That makes her blood looke on't: Good sooth she is
The Queene of Curds and Creame
Clo. Come on: strike vp
Dorcas. Mopsa must be your Mistris: marry Garlick to mend her kissing with
Mop. Now in good time
Clo. Not a word, a word, we stand vpon our manners,
Come, strike vp.
Heere a Daunce of Shepheards and Shephearddesses.
Pol. Pray good Shepheard, what faire Swaine is this,
Which dances with your daughter?
Shep. They call him Doricles, and boasts himselfe
To haue a worthy Feeding; but I haue it
Vpon his owne report, and I beleeue it:
He lookes like sooth: he sayes he loues my daughter,
I thinke so too; for neuer gaz'd the Moone
Vpon the water, as hee'l stand and reade
As 'twere my daughters eyes: and to be plaine,
I thinke there is not halfe a kisse to choose
Who loues another best
Pol. She dances featly
Shep. So she do's any thing, though I report it
That should be silent: If yong Doricles
Do light vpon her, she shall bring him that
Which he not dreames of.
Enter Seruant.
Ser. O Master: if you did but heare the Pedler at the doore, you would neuer dance againe after a Tabor and Pipe: no, the Bag-pipe could not moue you: hee singes seuerall Tunes, faster then you'l tell money: hee vtters them as he had eaten ballads, and all mens eares grew to his Tunes
Clo. He could neuer come better: hee shall come in: I loue a ballad but euen too well, if it be dolefull matter merrily set downe: or a very pleasant thing indeede, and sung lamentably
Ser. He hath songs for man, or woman, of all sizes: No Milliner can so fit his customers with Gloues: he has the prettiest Loue-songs for Maids, so without bawdrie (which is strange,) with such delicate burthens of Dildo's and Fadings: Iump-her, and thump-her; and where some stretch-mouth'd Rascall, would (as it were) meane mischeefe, and breake a fowle gap into the Matter, hee makes the maid to answere, Whoop, doe me no harme good man: put's him off, slights him, with Whoop, doe mee no harme good man
Pol. This is a braue fellow
Clo. Beleeue mee, thou talkest of an admirable conceited fellow, has he any vnbraided Wares? Ser. Hee hath Ribbons of all the colours i'th Rainebow; Points, more then all the Lawyers in Bohemia, can learnedly handle, though they come to him by th' grosse: Inckles, Caddysses, Cambrickes, Lawnes: why he sings em ouer, as they were Gods, or Goddesses: you would thinke a Smocke were a shee-Angell, he so chauntes to the sleeue-hand, and the worke about the square on't
Clo. Pre'thee bring him in, and let him approach singing
Perd. Forewarne him, that he vse no scurrilous words
in's tunes
Clow. You haue of these Pedlers, that haue more in
them, then youl'd thinke (Sister.)
Perd. I, good brother, or go about to thinke.
Enter Autolicus singing.
Lawne as white as driuen Snow,
Cypresse blacke as ere was Crow,
Gloues as sweete as Damaske Roses,
Maskes for faces, and for noses:
Bugle-bracelet, Necke-lace Amber,
Perfume for a Ladies Chamber:
Golden Quoifes, and Stomachers
For my Lads, to giue their deers:
Pins, and poaking-stickes of steele.
What Maids lacke from head to heele:
Come buy of me, come: come buy, come buy,
Buy Lads, or else your Lasses cry: Come buy
Clo. If I were not in loue with Mopsa, thou shouldst take no money of me, but being enthrall'd as I am, it will also be the bondage of certaine Ribbons and Gloues
Mop. I was promis'd them against the Feast, but they
come not too late now
Dor. He hath promis'd you more then that, or there
be lyars
Mop. He hath paid you all he promis'd you: 'May be he has paid you more, which will shame you to giue him againe
Clo. Is there no manners left among maids? Will they weare their plackets, where they should bear their faces? Is there not milking-time? When you are going to bed? Or kill-hole? To whistle of these secrets, but you must be tittle-tatling before all our guests? 'Tis well they are whispring: clamor your tongues, and not a word more
Mop. I haue done; Come you promis'd me a tawdrylace,
and a paire of sweet Gloues
Clo. Haue I not told thee how I was cozen'd by the
way, and lost all my money
Aut. And indeed Sir, there are Cozeners abroad, therfore
it behooues men to be wary
Clo. Feare not thou man, thou shalt lose nothing here
Aut. I hope so sir, for I haue about me many parcels
of charge
Clo. What hast heere? Ballads?
Mop. Pray now buy some: I loue a ballet in print, a
life, for then we are sure they are true
Aut. Here's one, to a very dolefull tune, how a Vsurers wife was brought to bed of twenty money baggs at a burthen, and how she long'd to eate Adders heads, and Toads carbonado'd
Mop. Is it true, thinke you?
Aut. Very true, and but a moneth old
Dor. Blesse me from marrying a Vsurer
Aut. Here's the Midwiues name to't: one Mist[ris]. Tale-Porter,
and fiue or six honest Wiues, that were present.
Why should I carry lyes abroad?
Mop. 'Pray you now buy it
Clo. Come-on, lay it by: and let's first see moe Ballads:
Wee'l buy the other things anon
Aut. Here's another ballad of a Fish, that appeared vpon the coast, on wensday the fourescore of April, fortie thousand fadom aboue water, & sung this ballad against the hard hearts of maids: it was thought she was a Woman, and was turn'd into a cold fish, for she wold not exchange flesh with one that lou'd her: The Ballad is very pittifull, and as true
Dor. Is it true too, thinke you
Autol. Fiue Iustices hands at it, and witnesses more then my packe will hold
Clo. Lay it by too; another
Aut. This is a merry ballad, but a very pretty one
Mop. Let's haue some merry ones
Aut. Why this is a passing merry one, and goes to the tune of two maids wooing a man: there's scarse a Maide westward but she sings it: 'tis in request, I can tell you
Mop. We can both sing it: if thou'lt beare a part, thou shalt heare, 'tis in three parts
Dor. We had the tune on't, a month agoe
Aut. I can beare my part, you must know 'tis my occupation:
Haue at it with you:
Song
Get you hence, for I must goe
Aut. Where it fits not you to know
Dor. Whether?
Mop. O whether?
Dor. Whether?
Mop. It becomes thy oath full well,
Thou to me thy secrets tell
Dor: Me too: Let me go thether:
Mop: Or thou goest to th' Grange, or Mill,
Dor: If to either thou dost ill,
Aut: Neither
Dor: What neither?
Aut: Neither:
Dor: Thou hast sworne my Loue to be,
Mop: Thou hast sworne it more to mee.
Then whether goest? Say whether?
Clo. Wee'l haue this song out anon by our selues: My
Father, and the Gent. are in sad talke, & wee'll not trouble
them: Come bring away thy pack after me, Wenches Ile
buy for you both: Pedler let's haue the first choice; folow
me girles
Aut. And you shall pay well for 'em.
Song.
Will you buy any Tape, or Lace for your Cape?
My dainty Ducke, my deere-a?
Any Silke, any Thred, any Toyes for your head
Of the news't, and fins't, fins't weare-a.
Come to the Pedler, Money's a medler,
That doth vtter all mens ware-a.
Exit
Seruant. Mayster, there is three Carters, three Shepherds, three Neat-herds, three Swine-herds y haue made themselues all men of haire, they cal themselues Saltiers, and they haue a Dance, which the Wenches say is a gally-maufrey of Gambols, because they are not in't: but they themselues are o'th' minde (if it bee not too rough for some, that know little but bowling) it will please plentifully
Shep. Away: Wee'l none on't; heere has beene too much homely foolery already. I know (Sir) wee wearie you
Pol. You wearie those that refresh vs: pray let's see these foure-threes of Heardsmen
Ser. One three of them, by their owne report (Sir,) hath danc'd before the King: and not the worst of the three, but iumpes twelue foote and a halfe by th' squire
Shep. Leaue your prating, since these good men are pleas'd, let them come in: but quickly now
Ser. Why, they stay at doore Sir.
Heere a Dance of twelue Satyres.
Pol. O Father, you'l know more of that heereafter:
Is it not too farre gone? 'Tis time to part them,
He's simple, and tels much. How now (faire shepheard)
Your heart is full of something, that do's take
Your minde from feasting. Sooth, when I was yong,
And handed loue, as you do; I was wont
To load my Shee with knackes: I would haue ransackt
The Pedlers silken Treasury, and haue powr'd it
To her acceptance: you haue let him go,
And nothing marted with him. If your Lasse
Interpretation should abuse, and call this
Your lacke of loue, or bounty, you were straited
For a reply at least, if you make a care
Of happie holding her
Flo. Old Sir, I know
She prizes not such trifles as these are:
The gifts she lookes from me, are packt and lockt
Vp in my heart, which I haue giuen already,
But not deliuer'd. O heare me breath my life
Before this ancient Sir, whom (it should seeme)
Hath sometime lou'd: I take thy hand, this hand,
As soft as Doues-downe, and as white as it,
Or Ethyopians tooth, or the fan'd snow, that's bolted
By th' Northerne blasts, twice ore
Pol. What followes this?
How prettily th' yong Swaine seemes to wash
The hand, was faire before? I haue put you out,
But to your protestation: Let me heare
What you professe
Flo. Do, and be witnesse too't
Pol. And this my neighbour too?
Flo. And he, and more
Then he, and men: the earth, the heauens, and all;
That were I crown'd the most Imperiall Monarch
Thereof most worthy: were I the fayrest youth
That euer made eye swerue, had force and knowledge
More then was euer mans, I would not prize them
Without her Loue; for her, employ them all,
Commend them, and condemne them to her seruice,
Or to their owne perdition
Pol. Fairely offer'd
Cam. This shewes a sound affection
Shep. But my daughter,
Say you the like to him
Per. I cannot speake
So well, (nothing so well) no, nor meane better
By th' patterne of mine owne thoughts, I cut out
The puritie of his
Shep. Take hands, a bargaine;
And friends vnknowne, you shall beare witnesse to't:
I giue my daughter to him, and will make
Her Portion, equall his
Flo. O, that must bee
I'th Vertue of your daughter: One being dead,
I shall haue more then you can dreame of yet,
Enough then for your wonder: but come-on,
Contract vs fore these Witnesses
Shep. Come, your hand:
And daughter, yours
Pol. Soft Swaine a-while, beseech you,
Haue you a Father?
Flo. I haue: but what of him?
Pol. Knowes he of this?
Flo. He neither do's, nor shall
Pol. Me-thinkes a Father,
Is at the Nuptiall of his sonne, a guest
That best becomes the Table: Pray you once more
Is not your Father growne incapeable
Of reasonable affayres? Is he not stupid
With Age, and altring Rheumes? Can he speake? heare?
Know man, from man? Dispute his owne estate?
Lies he not bed-rid? And againe, do's nothing
But what he did, being childish?
Flo. No good Sir:
He has his health, and ampler strength indeede
Then most haue of his age
Pol. By my white beard,
You offer him (if this be so) a wrong
Something vnfilliall: Reason my sonne
Should choose himselfe a wife, but as good reason
The Father (all whose ioy is nothing else
But faire posterity) should hold some counsaile
In such a businesse
Flo. I yeeld all this;
But for some other reasons (my graue Sir)
Which 'tis not fit you know, I not acquaint
My Father of this businesse
Pol. Let him know't
Flo. He shall not
Pol. Prethee let him
Flo. No, he must not
Shep. Let him (my sonne) he shall not need to greeue
At knowing of thy choice
Flo. Come, come, he must not:
Marke our Contract
Pol. Marke your diuorce (yong sir)
Whom sonne I dare not call: Thou art too base
To be acknowledge. Thou a Scepters heire,
That thus affects a sheepe-hooke? Thou, old Traitor,
I am sorry, that by hanging thee, I can
But shorten thy life one weeke. And thou, fresh peece
Of excellent Witchcraft, whom of force must know
The royall Foole thou coap'st with
Shep. Oh my heart
Pol. Ile haue thy beauty scratcht with briers & made
More homely then thy state. For thee (fond boy)
If I may euer know thou dost but sigh,
That thou no more shalt neuer see this knacke (as neuer
I meane thou shalt) wee'l barre thee from succession,
Not hold thee of our blood, no not our Kin,
Farre then Deucalion off: (marke thou my words)
Follow vs to the Court. Thou Churle, for this time
(Though full of our displeasure) yet we free thee
From the dead blow of it. And you Enchantment,
Worthy enough a Heardsman: yea him too,
That makes himselfe (but for our Honor therein)
Vnworthy thee. If euer henceforth, thou
These rurall Latches, to his entrance open,
Or hope his body more, with thy embraces,
I will deuise a death, as cruell for thee
As thou art tender to't.
Enter.
Perd. Euen heere vndone:
I was not much a-fear'd: for once, or twice
I was about to speake, and tell him plainely,
The selfe-same Sun, that shines vpon his Court,
Hides not his visage from our Cottage, but
Lookes on alike. Wilt please you (Sir) be gone?
I told you what would come of this: Beseech you
Of your owne state take care: This dreame of mine
Being now awake, Ile Queene it no inch farther,
But milke my Ewes, and weepe
Cam. Why how now Father,
Speake ere thou dyest
Shep. I cannot speake, nor thinke,
Nor dare to know, that which I know: O Sir,
You haue vndone a man of fourescore three,
That thought to fill his graue in quiet: yea,
To dye vpon the bed my father dy'de,
To lye close by his honest bones; but now
Some Hangman must put on my shrowd, and lay me
Where no Priest shouels-in dust. Oh cursed wretch,
That knew'st this was the Prince, and wouldst aduenture
To mingle faith with him. Vndone, vndone:
If I might dye within this houre, I haue liu'd
To die when I desire.
Enter.
Flo. Why looke you so vpon me?
I am but sorry, not affear'd: delaid,
But nothing altred: What I was, I am:
More straining on, for plucking backe; not following
My leash vnwillingly
Cam. Gracious my Lord,
You know my Fathers temper: at this time
He will allow no speech: (which I do ghesse
You do not purpose to him:) and as hardly
Will he endure your sight, as yet I feare;
Then till the fury of his Highnesse settle
Come not before him
Flo. I not purpose it:
I thinke Camillo
Cam. Euen he, my Lord
Per. How often haue I told you 'twould be thus?
How often said my dignity would last
But till 'twer knowne?
Flo. It cannot faile, but by
The violation of my faith, and then
Let Nature crush the sides o'th earth together,
And marre the seeds within. Lift vp thy lookes:
From my succession wipe me (Father) I
Am heyre to my affection
Cam. Be aduis'd
Flo. I am: and by my fancie, if my Reason
Will thereto be obedient: I haue reason:
If not, my sences better pleas'd with madnesse,
Do bid it welcome
Cam. This is desperate (sir.)
Flo. So call it: but it do's fulfill my vow:
I needs must thinke it honesty. Camillo,
Not for Bohemia, nor the pompe that may
Be thereat gleaned: for all the Sun sees, or
The close earth wombes, or the profound seas, hides
In vnknowne fadomes, will I breake my oath
To this my faire belou'd: Therefore, I pray you,
As you haue euer bin my Fathers honour'd friend,
When he shall misse me, as (in faith I meane not
To see him any more) cast your good counsailes
Vpon his passion: Let my selfe, and Fortune
Tug for the time to come. This you may know,
And so deliuer, I am put to Sea
With her, who heere I cannot hold on shore:
And most opportune to her neede, I haue
A Vessell rides fast by, but not prepar'd
For this designe. What course I meane to hold
Shall nothing benefit your knowledge, nor
Concerne me the reporting
Cam. O my Lord,
I would your spirit were easier for aduice,
Or stronger for your neede
Flo. Hearke Perdita,
Ile heare you by and by
Cam. Hee's irremoueable,
Resolu'd for flight: Now were I happy if
His going, I could frame to serue my turne,
Saue him from danger, do him loue and honor,
Purchase the sight againe of deere Sicillia,
And that vnhappy King, my Master, whom
I so much thirst to see
Flo. Now good Camillo,
I am so fraught with curious businesse, that
I leaue out ceremony
Cam. Sir, I thinke
You haue heard of my poore seruices, i'th loue
That I haue borne your Father?
Flo. Very nobly
Haue you deseru'd: It is my Fathers Musicke
To speake your deeds: not little of his care
To haue them recompenc'd, as thought on
Cam. Well (my Lord)
If you may please to thinke I loue the King,
And through him, what's neerest to him, which is
Your gracious selfe; embrace but my direction,
If your more ponderous and setled proiect
May suffer alteration. On mine honor,
Ile point you where you shall haue such receiuing
As shall become your Highnesse, where you may
Enioy your Mistris; from the whom, I see
There's no disiunction to be made, but by
(As heauens forefend) your ruine: Marry her,
And with my best endeuours, in your absence,
Your discontenting Father, striue to qualifie
And bring him vp to liking
Flo. How Camillo
May this (almost a miracle) be done?
That I may call thee something more then man,
And after that trust to thee
Cam. Haue you thought on
A place whereto you'l go?
Flo. Not any yet:
But as th' vnthought-on accident is guiltie
To what we wildely do, so we professe
Our selues to be the slaues of chance, and flyes
Of euery winde that blowes
Cam. Then list to me:
This followes, if you will not change your purpose
But vndergo this flight: make for Sicillia,
And there present your selfe, and your fayre Princesse,
(For so I see she must be) 'fore Leontes;
She shall be habited, as it becomes
The partner of your Bed. Me thinkes I see
Leontes opening his free Armes, and weeping
His Welcomes forth: asks thee there Sonne forgiuenesse,
As 'twere i'th' Fathers person: kisses the hands
Of your fresh Princesse; ore and ore diuides him,
'Twixt his vnkindnesse, and his Kindnesse: th' one
He chides to Hell, and bids the other grow
Faster then Thought, or Time
Flo. Worthy Camillo,
What colour for my Visitation, shall I
Hold vp before him?
Cam. Sent by the King your Father
To greet him, and to giue him comforts. Sir,
The manner of your bearing towards him, with
What you (as from your Father) shall deliuer,
Things knowne betwixt vs three, Ile write you downe,
The which shall point you forth at euery sitting
What you must say: that he shall not perceiue,
But that you haue your Fathers Bosome there,
And speake his very Heart
Flo. I am bound to you:
There is some sappe in this
Cam. A Course more promising,
Then a wild dedication of your selues
To vnpath'd Waters, vndream'd Shores; most certaine,
To Miseries enough: no hope to helpe you,
But as you shake off one, to take another:
Nothing so certaine, as your Anchors, who
Doe their best office, if they can but stay you,
Where you'le be loth to be: besides you know,
Prosperitie's the very bond of Loue,
Whose fresh complexion, and whose heart together,
Affliction alters
Perd. One of these is true:
I thinke Affliction may subdue the Cheeke,
But not take-in the Mind
Cam. Yea? say you so?
There shall not, at your Fathers House, these seuen yeeres
Be borne another such
Flo. My good Camillo,
She's as forward, of her Breeding, as
She is i'th' reare' our Birth
Cam. I cannot say, 'tis pitty
She lacks Instructions, for she seemes a Mistresse
To most that teach
Perd. Your pardon Sir, for this,
Ile blush you Thanks
Flo. My prettiest Perdita.
But O, the Thornes we stand vpon: (Camillo)
Preseruer of my Father, now of me,
The Medicine of our House: how shall we doe?
We are not furnish'd like Bohemia's Sonne,
Nor shall appeare in Sicilia
Cam. My Lord,
Feare none of this: I thinke you know my fortunes
Doe all lye there: it shall be so my care,
To haue you royally appointed, as if
The Scene you play, were mine. For instance Sir,
That you may know you shall not want: one word.
Enter Autolicus.
Aut. Ha, ha, what a Foole Honestie is? and Trust (his sworne brother) a very simple Gentleman. I haue sold all my Tromperie: not a counterfeit Stone, not a Ribbon, Glasse, Pomander, Browch, Table-booke, Ballad, Knife, Tape, Gloue, Shooe-tye, Bracelet, Horne-Ring, to keepe my Pack from fasting: they throng who should buy first, as if my Trinkets had beene hallowed, and brought a benediction to the buyer: by which meanes, I saw whose Purse was best in Picture; and what I saw, to my good vse, I remembred. My Clowne (who wants but something to be a reasonable man) grew so in loue with the Wenches Song, that hee would not stirre his Petty-toes, till he had both Tune and Words, which so drew the rest of the Heard to me, that all their other Sences stucke in Eares: you might haue pinch'd a Placket, it was sencelesse; 'twas nothing to gueld a Cod-peece of a Purse: I would haue fill'd Keyes of that hung in Chaynes: no hearing, no feeling, but my Sirs Song, and admiring the Nothing of it. So that in this time of Lethargie, I pickd and cut most of their Festiuall Purses: And had not the old-man come in with a Whoo-bub against his Daughter, and the Kings Sonne, and scar'd my Chowghes from the Chaffe, I had not left a Purse aliue in the whole Army
Cam. Nay, but my Letters by this meanes being there
So soone as you arriue, shall cleare that doubt
Flo. And those that you'le procure from King Leontes?
Cam. Shall satisfie your Father
Perd. Happy be you:
All that you speake, shewes faire
Cam. Who haue we here?
Wee'le make an Instrument of this: omit
Nothing may giue vs aide
Aut. If they haue ouer-heard me now: why hanging
Cam. How now (good Fellow)
Why shak'st thou so? Feare not (man)
Here's no harme intended to thee
Aut. I am a poore Fellow, Sir
Cam. Why, be so still: here's no body will steale that from thee: yet for the out-side of thy pouertie, we must make an exchange; therefore dis-case thee instantly (thou must thinke there's a necessitie in't) and change Garments with this Gentleman: Though the penny-worth (on his side) be the worst, yet hold thee, there's some boot
Aut. I am a poore Fellow, Sir: (I know ye well
enough.)
Cam. Nay prethee dispatch: the Gentleman is halfe
fled already
Aut. Are you in earnest, Sir? (I smell the trick on't.)
Flo. Dispatch, I prethee
Aut. Indeed I haue had Earnest, but I cannot with
conscience take it
Cam. Vnbuckle, vnbuckle.
Fortunate Mistresse (let my prophecie
Come home to ye:) you must retire your selfe
Into some Couert; take your sweet-hearts Hat
And pluck it ore your Browes, muffle your face,
Dis-mantle you, and (as you can) disliken
The truth of your owne seeming, that you may
(For I doe feare eyes ouer) to Ship-boord
Get vndescry'd
Perd. I see the Play so lyes,
That I must beare a part
Cam. No remedie:
Haue you done there?
Flo. Should I now meet my Father,
He would not call me Sonne
Cam. Nay, you shall haue no Hat:
Come Lady, come: Farewell (my friend.)
Aut. Adieu, Sir
Flo. O Perdita: what haue we twaine forgot?
'Pray you a word
Cam. What I doe next, shall be to tell the King
Of this escape, and whither they are bound;
Wherein, my hope is, I shall so preuaile,
To force him after: in whose company
I shall re-view Sicilia; for whose sight,
I haue a Womans Longing
Flo. Fortune speed vs:
Thus we set on (Camillo) to th' Sea-side
Cam. The swifter speed, the better.
Enter.
Aut. I vnderstand the businesse, I heare it: to haue an open eare, a quick eye, and a nimble hand, is necessary for a Cut-purse; a good Nose is requisite also, to smell out worke for th' other Sences. I see this is the time that the vniust man doth thriue. What an exchange had this been, without boot? What a boot is here, with this exchange? Sure the Gods doe this yeere conniue at vs, and we may doe any thing extempore. The Prince himselfe is about a peece of Iniquitie (stealing away from his Father, with his Clog at his heeles:) if I thought it were a peece of honestie to acquaint the King withall, I would not do't: I hold it the more knauerie to conceale it; and therein am I constant to my Profession. Enter Clowne and Shepheard.
Aside, aside, here is more matter for a hot braine: Euery Lanes end, euery Shop, Church, Session, Hanging, yeelds a carefull man worke
Clowne. 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
Shep. Nay, but heare me
Clow. Nay; but heare me
Shep. Goe too then
Clow. She being none of your flesh and blood, your flesh and blood ha's not offended the King, and so your flesh and blood is not to be punish'd by him. Shew those things you found about her (those secret things, all but what she ha's with her:) This being done, let the Law goe whistle: I warrant you
Shep. I will tell the King all, euery word, yea, and his Sonnes prancks too; who, I may say, is no honest man, neither to his Father, nor to me, to goe about to make me the Kings Brother in Law
Clow. Indeed Brother in Law was the farthest off you could haue beene to him, and then your Blood had beene the dearer, by I know how much an ounce
Aut. Very wisely (Puppies.)
Shep. Well: let vs to the King: there is that in this
Farthell, will make him scratch his Beard
Aut. I know not what impediment this Complaint
may be to the flight of my Master
Clo. 'Pray heartily he be at' Pallace
Aut. Though I am not naturally honest, I am so sometimes by chance: Let me pocket vp my Pedlers excrement. How now (Rustiques) whither are you bound? Shep. To th' Pallace (and it like your Worship.) Aut. Your Affaires there? what? with whom? the Condition of that Farthell? the place of your dwelling? your names? your ages? of what hauing? breeding, and any thing that is fitting to be knowne, discouer? Clo. We are but plaine fellowes, Sir
Aut. A Lye; you are rough, and hayrie: Let me haue no lying; it becomes none but Trades-men, and they often giue vs (Souldiers) the Lye, but wee pay them for it with stamped Coyne, not stabbing Steele, therefore they doe not giue vs the Lye
Clo. Your Worship had like to haue giuen vs one, if you had not taken your selfe with the manner
Shep. Are you a Courtier, and't like you Sir? Aut. Whether it like me, or no, I am a Courtier. Seest thou not the ayre of the Court, in these enfoldings? Hath not my gate in it, the measure of the Court? Receiues not thy Nose Court-Odour from me? Reflect I not on thy Basenesse, Court-Contempt? Think'st thou, for that I insinuate, at toaze from thee thy Businesse, I am therefore no Courtier? I am Courtier Capape; and one that will eyther push-on, or pluck-back, thy Businesse there: whereupon I command thee to open thy Affaire
Shep. My Businesse, Sir, is to the King
Aut. What Aduocate ha'st thou to him?
Shep. I know not (and't like you.)
Clo. Aduocate's the Court-word for a Pheazant: say
you haue none
Shep. None, Sir: I haue no Pheazant Cock, nor Hen
Aut. How blessed are we, that are not simple men?
Yet Nature might haue made me as these are,
Therefore I will not disdaine
Clo. This cannot be but a great Courtier
Shep. His Garments are rich, but he weares them not handsomely
Clo. He seemes to be the more Noble, in being fantasticall: A great man, Ile warrant; I know by the picking on's Teeth
Aut. The Farthell there? What's i'th' Farthell? Wherefore that Box? Shep. Sir, there lyes such Secrets in this Farthell and Box, which none must know but the King, and which hee shall know within this houre, if I may come to th' speech of him
Aut. Age, thou hast lost thy labour
Shep. Why Sir? Aut. The King is not at the Pallace, he is gone aboord a new Ship, to purge Melancholy, and ayre himselfe: for if thou bee'st capable of things serious, thou must know the King is full of griefe
Shep. So 'tis said (Sir:) about his Sonne, that should haue marryed a Shepheards Daughter
Aut. If that Shepheard be not in hand-fast, let him flye; the Curses he shall haue, the Tortures he shall feele, will breake the back of Man, the heart of Monster
Clo. Thinke you so, Sir? Aut. Not hee alone shall suffer what Wit can make heauie, and Vengeance bitter; but those that are Iermaine to him (though remou'd fiftie times) shall all come vnder the Hang-man: which, though it be great pitty, yet it is necessarie. An old Sheepe-whistling Rogue, a Ram-tender, to offer to haue his Daughter come into grace? Some say hee shall be ston'd: but that death is too soft for him (say I:) Draw our Throne into a Sheep-Coat? all deaths are too few, the sharpest too easie
Clo. Ha's the old-man ere a Sonne Sir (doe you heare) and't like you, Sir? Aut. Hee ha's a Sonne: who shall be flayd aliue, then 'noynted ouer with Honey, set on the head of a Waspes Nest, then stand till he be three quarters and a dram dead: then recouer'd againe with Aquavite, or some other hot Infusion: then, raw as he is (and in the hotest day Prognostication proclaymes) shall he be set against a Brick-wall, (the Sunne looking with a South-ward eye vpon him; where hee is to behold him, with Flyes blown to death.) But what talke we of these Traitorly-Rascals, whose miseries are to be smil'd at, their offences being so capitall? Tell me (for you seeme to be honest plaine men) what you haue to the King: being something gently consider'd, Ile bring you where he is aboord, tender your persons to his presence, whisper him in your behalfes; and if it be in man, besides the King, to effect your Suites, here is man shall doe it
Clow. He seemes to be of great authoritie: close with him, giue him Gold; and though Authoritie be a stubborne Beare, yet hee is oft led by the Nose with Gold: shew the in-side of your Purse to the out-side of his hand, and no more adoe. Remember ston'd, and flay'd aliue
Shep. And't please you (Sir) to vndertake the Businesse for vs, here is that Gold I haue: Ile make it as much more, and leaue this young man in pawne, till I bring it you
Aut. After I haue done what I promised?
Shep. I Sir
Aut. Well, giue me the Moitie: Are you a partie in
this Businesse?
Clow. In some sort, Sir: but though my case be a pittifull
one, I hope I shall not be flayd out of it
Aut. Oh, that's the case of the Shepheards Sonne:
hang him, hee'le be made an example
Clow. Comfort, good comfort: We must to the King, and shew our strange sights: he must know 'tis none of your Daughter, nor my Sister: wee are gone else. Sir, I will giue you as much as this old man do's, when the Businesse is performed, and remaine (as he sayes) your pawne till it be brought you
Aut. I will trust you. Walke before toward the Seaside, goe on the right hand, I will but looke vpon the Hedge, and follow you
Clow. We are bless'd, in this man: as I may say, euen
bless'd
Shep. Let's before, as he bids vs: he was prouided to
doe vs good
Aut. If I had a mind to be honest, I see Fortune would not suffer mee: shee drops Booties in my mouth. I am courted now with a double occasion: (Gold, and a means to doe the Prince my Master good; which, who knowes how that may turne backe to my aduancement?) I will bring these two Moales, these blind-ones, aboord him: if he thinke it fit to shoare them againe, and that the Complaint they haue to the King, concernes him nothing, let him call me Rogue, for being so farre officious, for I am proofe against that Title, and what shame else belongs to't: To him will I present them, there may be matter in it.
Exeunt.
Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.
Enter Leontes, Cleomines, Dion, Paulina, Seruants: Florizel,
Perdita.
Cleo. Sir, you haue done enough, and haue perform'd
A Saint-like Sorrow: No fault could you make,
Which you haue not redeem'd; indeed pay'd downe
More penitence, then done trespas: At the last
Doe, as the Heauens haue done; forget your euill,
With them, forgiue your selfe
Leo. Whilest I remember
Her, and her Vertues, I cannot forget
My blemishes in them, and so still thinke of
The wrong I did my selfe: which was so much,
That Heire-lesse it hath made my Kingdome, and
Destroy'd the sweet'st Companion, that ere man
Bred his hopes out of, true
Paul. Too true (my Lord:)
If one by one, you wedded all the World,
Or from the All that are, tooke something good,
To make a perfect Woman; she you kill'd,
Would be vnparallell'd
Leo. I thinke so. Kill'd?
She I kill'd? I did so: but thou strik'st me
Sorely, to say I did: it is as bitter
Vpon thy Tongue, as in my Thought. Now, good now,
Say so but seldome
Cleo. Not at all, good Lady:
You might haue spoken a thousand things, that would
Haue done the time more benefit, and grac'd
Your kindnesse better
Paul. You are one of those
Would haue him wed againe
Dio. If you would not so,
You pitty not the State, nor the Remembrance
Of his most Soueraigne Name: Consider little,
What Dangers, by his Highnesse faile of Issue,
May drop vpon his Kingdome, and deuoure
Incertaine lookers on. What were more holy,
Then to reioyce the former Queene is well?
What holyer, then for Royalties repayre,
For present comfort, and for future good,
To blesse the Bed of Maiestie againe
With a sweet Fellow to't?
Paul. There is none worthy,
(Respecting her that's gone:) besides the Gods
Will haue fulfill'd their secret purposes:
For ha's not the Diuine Apollo said?
Is't not the tenor of his Oracle,
That King Leontes shall not haue an Heire,
Till his lost Child be found? Which, that it shall,
Is all as monstrous to our humane reason,
As my Antigonus to breake his Graue,
And come againe to me: who, on my life,
Did perish with the Infant. 'Tis your councell,
My Lord should to the Heauens be contrary,
Oppose against their wills. Care not for Issue,
The Crowne will find an Heire. Great Alexander
Left his to th' Worthiest: so his Successor
Was like to be the best
Leo. Good Paulina,
Who hast the memorie of Hermione
I know in honor: O, that euer I
Had squar'd me to thy councell: then, euen now,
I might haue look'd vpon my Queenes full eyes,
Haue taken Treasure from her Lippes
Paul. And left them
More rich, for what they yeelded
Leo. Thou speak'st truth:
No more such Wiues, therefore no Wife: one worse,
And better vs'd, would make her Sainted Spirit
Againe possesse her Corps, and on this Stage
(Where we Offendors now appeare) Soule-vext,
And begin, why to me?
Paul. Had she such power,
She had iust such cause
Leo. She had, and would incense me
To murther her I marryed
Paul. I should so:
Were I the Ghost that walk'd, Il'd bid you marke
Her eye, and tell me for what dull part in't
You chose her: then Il'd shrieke, that euen your eares
Should rift to heare me, and the words that follow'd,
Should be, Remember mine
Leo. Starres, Starres,
And all eyes else, dead coales: feare thou no Wife;
Ile haue no Wife, Paulina
Paul. Will you sweare
Neuer to marry, but by my free leaue?
Leo. Neuer (Paulina) so be bless'd my Spirit
Paul. Then good my Lords, beare witnesse to his Oath
Cleo. You tempt him ouer-much
Paul. Vnlesse another,
As like Hermione, as is her Picture,
Affront his eye
Cleo. Good Madame, I haue done
Paul. Yet if my Lord will marry: if you will, Sir;
No remedie but you will: Giue me the Office
To chuse you a Queene: she shall not be so young
As was your former, but she shall be such
As (walk'd your first Queenes Ghost) it should take ioy
To see her in your armes
Leo. My true Paulina,
We shall not marry, till thou bidst vs
