MEASURE FOR MEASURE


	DRAMATIS PERSONAE


VINCENTIO	the Duke. (DUKE VINCENTIO:)

ANGELO	Deputy.

ESCALUS	an ancient Lord.

CLAUDIO	a young gentleman.

LUCIO	a fantastic.

	Two other gentlemen.
	(First Gentleman:)
	(Second Gentleman:)
	Provost.


PETER	(FRIAR PETER:)	|
		|  two friars.
THOMAS	(FRIAR THOMAS:)	|


	A Justice.

VARRIUS:

ELBOW	a simple constable.

FROTH	a foolish gentleman.

POMPEY	servant to Mistress Overdone.

ABHORSON	an executioner.

BARNARDINE	a dissolute prisoner.

ISABELLA	sister to Claudio.

MARIANA	betrothed to Angelo.

JULIET	beloved of Claudio.

FRANCISCA	a nun.

MISTRESS OVERDONE	a bawd.

	Lords, Officers, Citizens, Boy, and Attendant.
	(Servant:)
	(Messenger:)


SCENE	Vienna.




	MEASURE FOR MEASURE


ACT I


SCENE I	An apartment in the DUKE'S palace.


	[Enter DUKE VINCENTIO, ESCALUS, Lords and
	Attendants]

DUKE VINCENTIO	Escalus.

ESCALUS	My lord.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Of government the properties to unfold,
	Would seem in me to affect speech and discourse;
	Since I am put to know that your own science
	Exceeds, in that, the lists of all advice
	My strength can give you: then no more remains,
	But that to your sufficiency [           ]
	[                  ] as your Worth is able,
	And let them work. The nature of our people,
	Our city's institutions, and the terms
	For common justice, you're as pregnant in
	As art and practise hath enriched any
	That we remember. There is our commission,
	From which we would not have you warp. Call hither,
	I say, bid come before us Angelo.

	[Exit an Attendant]

	What figure of us think you he will bear?
	For you must know, we have with special soul
	Elected him our absence to supply,
	Lent him our terror, dress'd him with our love,
	And given his deputation all the organs
	Of our own power: what think you of it?

ESCALUS	If any in Vienna be of worth
	To undergo such ample grace and honour,
	It is Lord Angelo.

DUKE VINCENTIO	                  Look where he comes.

	[Enter ANGELO]

ANGELO	Always obedient to your grace's will,
	I come to know your pleasure.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Angelo,
	There is a kind of character in thy life,
	That to the observer doth thy history
	Fully unfold. Thyself and thy belongings
	Are not thine own so proper as to waste
	Thyself upon thy virtues, they on thee.
	Heaven doth with us as we with torches do,
	Not light them for themselves; for if our virtues
	Did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike
	As if we had them not. Spirits are not finely touch'd
	But to fine issues, nor Nature never lends
	The smallest scruple of her excellence
	But, like a thrifty goddess, she determines
	Herself the glory of a creditor,
	Both thanks and use. But I do bend my speech
	To one that can my part in him advertise;
	Hold therefore, Angelo:--
	In our remove be thou at full ourself;
	Mortality and mercy in Vienna
	Live in thy tongue and heart: old Escalus,
	Though first in question, is thy secondary.
	Take thy commission.

ANGELO	Now, good my lord,
	Let there be some more test made of my metal,
	Before so noble and so great a figure
	Be stamp'd upon it.

DUKE VINCENTIO	No more evasion:
	We have with a leaven'd and prepared choice
	Proceeded to you; therefore take your honours.
	Our haste from hence is of so quick condition
	That it prefers itself and leaves unquestion'd
	Matters of needful value. We shall write to you,
	As time and our concernings shall importune,
	How it goes with us, and do look to know
	What doth befall you here. So, fare you well;
	To the hopeful execution do I leave you
	Of your commissions.

ANGELO	Yet give leave, my lord,
	That we may bring you something on the way.

DUKE VINCENTIO	My haste may not admit it;
	Nor need you, on mine honour, have to do
	With any scruple; your scope is as mine own
	So to enforce or qualify the laws
	As to your soul seems good. Give me your hand:
	I'll privily away. I love the people,
	But do not like to stage me to their eyes:
	Through it do well, I do not relish well
	Their loud applause and Aves vehement;
	Nor do I think the man of safe discretion
	That does affect it. Once more, fare you well.

ANGELO	The heavens give safety to your purposes!

ESCALUS	Lead forth and bring you back in happiness!

DUKE	I thank you. Fare you well.

	[Exit]

ESCALUS	I shall desire you, sir, to give me leave
	To have free speech with you; and it concerns me
	To look into the bottom of my place:
	A power I have, but of what strength and nature
	I am not yet instructed.

ANGELO	'Tis so with me. Let us withdraw together,
	And we may soon our satisfaction have
	Touching that point.

ESCALUS	I'll wait upon your honour.

	[Exeunt]




	MEASURE FOR MEASURE


ACT I


SCENE II	A Street.


	[Enter LUCIO and two Gentlemen]

LUCIO	If the duke with the other dukes come not to
	composition with the King of Hungary, why then all
	the dukes fall upon the king.

First Gentleman	Heaven grant us its peace, but not the King of
	Hungary's!

Second Gentleman	Amen.

LUCIO	Thou concludest like the sanctimonious pirate, that
	went to sea with the Ten Commandments, but scraped
	one out of the table.

Second Gentleman	'Thou shalt not steal'?

LUCIO	Ay, that he razed.

First Gentleman	Why, 'twas a commandment to command the captain and
	all the rest from their functions: they put forth
	to steal. There's not a soldier of us all, that, in
	the thanksgiving before meat, do relish the petition
	well that prays for peace.

Second Gentleman	I never heard any soldier dislike it.

LUCIO	I believe thee; for I think thou never wast where
	grace was said.

Second Gentleman	No? a dozen times at least.

First Gentleman	What, in metre?

LUCIO	In any proportion or in any language.

First Gentleman	I think, or in any religion.

LUCIO	Ay, why not? Grace is grace, despite of all
	controversy: as, for example, thou thyself art a
	wicked villain, despite of all grace.

First Gentleman	Well, there went but a pair of shears between us.

LUCIO	I grant; as there may between the lists and the
	velvet. Thou art the list.

First Gentleman	And thou the velvet: thou art good velvet; thou'rt
	a three-piled piece, I warrant thee: I had as lief
	be a list of an English kersey as be piled, as thou
	art piled, for a French velvet. Do I speak
	feelingly now?

LUCIO	I think thou dost; and, indeed, with most painful
	feeling of thy speech: I will, out of thine own
	confession, learn to begin thy health; but, whilst I
	live, forget to drink after thee.

First Gentleman	I think I have done myself wrong, have I not?

Second Gentleman	Yes, that thou hast, whether thou art tainted or free.

LUCIO	Behold, behold. where Madam Mitigation comes! I
	have purchased as many diseases under her roof as come to--

Second Gentleman	To what, I pray?

LUCIO	Judge.

Second Gentleman	To three thousand dolours a year.

First Gentleman	Ay, and more.

LUCIO	A French crown more.

First Gentleman	Thou art always figuring diseases in me; but thou
	art full of error; I am sound.

LUCIO	Nay, not as one would say, healthy; but so sound as
	things that are hollow: thy bones are hollow;
	impiety has made a feast of thee.

	[Enter MISTRESS OVERDONE]

First Gentleman	How now! which of your hips has the most profound sciatica?

MISTRESS OVERDONE	Well, well; there's one yonder arrested and carried
	to prison was worth five thousand of you all.

Second Gentleman	Who's that, I pray thee?

MISTRESS OVERDONE	Marry, sir, that's Claudio, Signior Claudio.

First Gentleman	Claudio to prison? 'tis not so.

MISTRESS OVERDONE	Nay, but I know 'tis so: I saw him arrested, saw
	him carried away; and, which is more, within these
	three days his head to be chopped off.

LUCIO	But, after all this fooling, I would not have it so.
	Art thou sure of this?

MISTRESS OVERDONE	I am too sure of it: and it is for getting Madam
	Julietta with child.

LUCIO	Believe me, this may be: he promised to meet me two
	hours since, and he was ever precise in
	promise-keeping.

Second Gentleman	Besides, you know, it draws something near to the
	speech we had to such a purpose.

First Gentleman	But, most of all, agreeing with the proclamation.

LUCIO	Away! let's go learn the truth of it.

	[Exeunt LUCIO and Gentlemen]

MISTRESS OVERDONE	Thus, what with the war, what with the sweat, what
	with the gallows and what with poverty, I am
	custom-shrunk.

	[Enter POMPEY]

	How now! what's the news with you?

POMPEY	Yonder man is carried to prison.

MISTRESS OVERDONE	Well; what has he done?

POMPEY	A woman.

MISTRESS OVERDONE	But what's his offence?

POMPEY	Groping for trouts in a peculiar river.

MISTRESS OVERDONE	What, is there a maid with child by him?

POMPEY	No, but there's a woman with maid by him. You have
	not heard of the proclamation, have you?

MISTRESS OVERDONE	What proclamation, man?

POMPEY	All houses in the suburbs of Vienna must be plucked down.

MISTRESS OVERDONE	And what shall become of those in the city?

POMPEY	They shall stand for seed: they had gone down too,
	but that a wise burgher put in for them.

MISTRESS OVERDONE	But shall all our houses of resort in the suburbs be
	pulled down?

POMPEY	To the ground, mistress.

MISTRESS OVERDONE	Why, here's a change indeed in the commonwealth!
	What shall become of me?

POMPEY	Come; fear you not: good counsellors lack no
	clients: though you change your place, you need not
	change your trade; I'll be your tapster still.
	Courage! there will be pity taken on you: you that
	have worn your eyes almost out in the service, you
	will be considered.

MISTRESS OVERDONE	What's to do here, Thomas tapster? let's withdraw.

POMPEY	Here comes Signior Claudio, led by the provost to
	prison; and there's Madam Juliet.

	[Exeunt]

	[Enter Provost, CLAUDIO, JULIET, and Officers]

CLAUDIO	Fellow, why dost thou show me thus to the world?
	Bear me to prison, where I am committed.

Provost	I do it not in evil disposition,
	But from Lord Angelo by special charge.

CLAUDIO	Thus can the demigod Authority
	Make us pay down for our offence by weight
	The words of heaven; on whom it will, it will;
	On whom it will not, so; yet still 'tis just.

	[Re-enter LUCIO and two Gentlemen]

LUCIO	Why, how now, Claudio! whence comes this restraint?

CLAUDIO	From too much liberty, my Lucio, liberty:
	As surfeit is the father of much fast,
	So every scope by the immoderate use
	Turns to restraint. Our natures do pursue,
	Like rats that ravin down their proper bane,
	A thirsty evil; and when we drink we die.

LUCIO	If could speak so wisely under an arrest, I would
	send for certain of my creditors: and yet, to say
	the truth, I had as lief have the foppery of freedom
	as the morality of imprisonment. What's thy
	offence, Claudio?

CLAUDIO	What but to speak of would offend again.

LUCIO	What, is't murder?

CLAUDIO	No.

LUCIO	Lechery?

CLAUDIO	Call it so.

Provost	Away, sir! you must go.

CLAUDIO	One word, good friend. Lucio, a word with you.

LUCIO	A hundred, if they'll do you any good.
	Is lechery so look'd after?

CLAUDIO	Thus stands it with me: upon a true contract
	I got possession of Julietta's bed:
	You know the lady; she is fast my wife,
	Save that we do the denunciation lack
	Of outward order: this we came not to,
	Only for propagation of a dower
	Remaining in the coffer of her friends,
	From whom we thought it meet to hide our love
	Till time had made them for us. But it chances
	The stealth of our most mutual entertainment
	With character too gross is writ on Juliet.

LUCIO	With child, perhaps?

CLAUDIO	Unhappily, even so.
	And the new deputy now for the duke--
	Whether it be the fault and glimpse of newness,
	Or whether that the body public be
	A horse whereon the governor doth ride,
	Who, newly in the seat, that it may know
	He can command, lets it straight feel the spur;
	Whether the tyranny be in his place,
	Or in his emmence that fills it up,
	I stagger in:--but this new governor
	Awakes me all the enrolled penalties
	Which have, like unscour'd armour, hung by the wall
	So long that nineteen zodiacs have gone round
	And none of them been worn; and, for a name,
	Now puts the drowsy and neglected act
	Freshly on me: 'tis surely for a name.

LUCIO	I warrant it is: and thy head stands so tickle on
	thy shoulders that a milkmaid, if she be in love,
	may sigh it off. Send after the duke and appeal to
	him.

CLAUDIO	I have done so, but he's not to be found.
	I prithee, Lucio, do me this kind service:
	This day my sister should the cloister enter
	And there receive her approbation:
	Acquaint her with the danger of my state:
	Implore her, in my voice, that she make friends
	To the strict deputy; bid herself assay him:
	I have great hope in that; for in her youth
	There is a prone and speechless dialect,
	Such as move men; beside, she hath prosperous art
	When she will play with reason and discourse,
	And well she can persuade.

LUCIO	I pray she may; as well for the encouragement of the
	like, which else would stand under grievous
	imposition, as for the enjoying of thy life, who I
	would be sorry should be thus foolishly lost at a
	game of tick-tack. I'll to her.

CLAUDIO	I thank you, good friend Lucio.

LUCIO	Within two hours.

CLAUDIO	                  Come, officer, away!

	[Exeunt]




	MEASURE FOR MEASURE


ACT I


SCENE III	A monastery.


	[Enter DUKE VINCENTIO and FRIAR THOMAS]

DUKE VINCENTIO	No, holy father; throw away that thought;
	Believe not that the dribbling dart of love
	Can pierce a complete bosom. Why I desire thee
	To give me secret harbour, hath a purpose
	More grave and wrinkled than the aims and ends
	Of burning youth.

FRIAR THOMAS	                  May your grace speak of it?

DUKE VINCENTIO	My holy sir, none better knows than you
	How I have ever loved the life removed
	And held in idle price to haunt assemblies
	Where youth, and cost, and witless bravery keeps.
	I have deliver'd to Lord Angelo,
	A man of stricture and firm abstinence,
	My absolute power and place here in Vienna,
	And he supposes me travell'd to Poland;
	For so I have strew'd it in the common ear,
	And so it is received. Now, pious sir,
	You will demand of me why I do this?

FRIAR THOMAS	Gladly, my lord.

DUKE VINCENTIO	We have strict statutes and most biting laws.
	The needful bits and curbs to headstrong weeds,
	Which for this nineteen years we have let slip;
	Even like an o'ergrown lion in a cave,
	That goes not out to prey. Now, as fond fathers,
	Having bound up the threatening twigs of birch,
	Only to stick it in their children's sight
	For terror, not to use, in time the rod
	Becomes more mock'd than fear'd; so our decrees,
	Dead to infliction, to themselves are dead;
	And liberty plucks justice by the nose;
	The baby beats the nurse, and quite athwart
	Goes all decorum.

FRIAR THOMAS	                  It rested in your grace
	To unloose this tied-up justice when you pleased:
	And it in you more dreadful would have seem'd
	Than in Lord Angelo.

DUKE VINCENTIO	I do fear, too dreadful:
	Sith 'twas my fault to give the people scope,
	'Twould be my tyranny to strike and gall them
	For what I bid them do: for we bid this be done,
	When evil deeds have their permissive pass
	And not the punishment. Therefore indeed, my father,
	I have on Angelo imposed the office;
	Who may, in the ambush of my name, strike home,
	And yet my nature never in the fight
	To do in slander. And to behold his sway,
	I will, as 'twere a brother of your order,
	Visit both prince and people: therefore, I prithee,
	Supply me with the habit and instruct me
	How I may formally in person bear me
	Like a true friar. More reasons for this action
	At our more leisure shall I render you;
	Only, this one: Lord Angelo is precise;
	Stands at a guard with envy; scarce confesses
	That his blood flows, or that his appetite
	Is more to bread than stone: hence shall we see,
	If power change purpose, what our seemers be.

	[Exeunt]




	MEASURE FOR MEASURE


ACT I


SCENE IV	A nunnery.


	[Enter ISABELLA and FRANCISCA]

ISABELLA	And have you nuns no farther privileges?

FRANCISCA	Are not these large enough?

ISABELLA	Yes, truly; I speak not as desiring more;
	But rather wishing a more strict restraint
	Upon the sisterhood, the votarists of Saint Clare.

LUCIO	[Within]  Ho! Peace be in this place!

ISABELLA	Who's that which calls?

FRANCISCA	It is a man's voice. Gentle Isabella,
	Turn you the key, and know his business of him;
	You may, I may not; you are yet unsworn.
	When you have vow'd, you must not speak with men
	But in the presence of the prioress:
	Then, if you speak, you must not show your face,
	Or, if you show your face, you must not speak.
	He calls again; I pray you, answer him.

	[Exit]

ISABELLA	Peace and prosperity! Who is't that calls

	[Enter LUCIO]

LUCIO	Hail, virgin, if you be, as those cheek-roses
	Proclaim you are no less! Can you so stead me
	As bring me to the sight of Isabella,
	A novice of this place and the fair sister
	To her unhappy brother Claudio?

ISABELLA	Why 'her unhappy brother'? let me ask,
	The rather for I now must make you know
	I am that Isabella and his sister.

LUCIO	Gentle and fair, your brother kindly greets you:
	Not to be weary with you, he's in prison.

ISABELLA	Woe me! for what?

LUCIO	For that which, if myself might be his judge,
	He should receive his punishment in thanks:
	He hath got his friend with child.

ISABELLA	Sir, make me not your story.

LUCIO	It is true.
	I would not--though 'tis my familiar sin
	With maids to seem the lapwing and to jest,
	Tongue far from heart--play with all virgins so:
	I hold you as a thing ensky'd and sainted.
	By your renouncement an immortal spirit,
	And to be talk'd with in sincerity,
	As with a saint.

ISABELLA	You do blaspheme the good in mocking me.

LUCIO	Do not believe it. Fewness and truth, 'tis thus:
	Your brother and his lover have embraced:
	As those that feed grow full, as blossoming time
	That from the seedness the bare fallow brings
	To teeming foison, even so her plenteous womb
	Expresseth his full tilth and husbandry.

ISABELLA	Some one with child by him? My cousin Juliet?

LUCIO	Is she your cousin?

ISABELLA	Adoptedly; as school-maids change their names
	By vain though apt affection.

LUCIO	She it is.

ISABELLA	O, let him marry her.

LUCIO	This is the point.
	The duke is very strangely gone from hence;
	Bore many gentlemen, myself being one,
	In hand and hope of action: but we do learn
	By those that know the very nerves of state,
	His givings-out were of an infinite distance
	From his true-meant design. Upon his place,
	And with full line of his authority,
	Governs Lord Angelo; a man whose blood
	Is very snow-broth; one who never feels
	The wanton stings and motions of the sense,
	But doth rebate and blunt his natural edge
	With profits of the mind, study and fast.
	He--to give fear to use and liberty,
	Which have for long run by the hideous law,
	As mice by lions--hath pick'd out an act,
	Under whose heavy sense your brother's life
	Falls into forfeit: he arrests him on it;
	And follows close the rigour of the statute,
	To make him an example. All hope is gone,
	Unless you have the grace by your fair prayer
	To soften Angelo: and that's my pith of business
	'Twixt you and your poor brother.

ISABELLA	Doth he so seek his life?

LUCIO	Has censured him
	Already; and, as I hear, the provost hath
	A warrant for his execution.

ISABELLA	Alas! what poor ability's in me
	To do him good?

LUCIO	                  Assay the power you have.

ISABELLA	My power? Alas, I doubt--

LUCIO	Our doubts are traitors
	And make us lose the good we oft might win
	By fearing to attempt. Go to Lord Angelo,
	And let him learn to know, when maidens sue,
	Men give like gods; but when they weep and kneel,
	All their petitions are as freely theirs
	As they themselves would owe them.

ISABELLA	I'll see what I can do.

LUCIO	But speedily.

ISABELLA	I will about it straight;
	No longer staying but to give the mother
	Notice of my affair. I humbly thank you:
	Commend me to my brother: soon at night
	I'll send him certain word of my success.

LUCIO	I take my leave of you.

ISABELLA	Good sir, adieu.

	[Exeunt]




	MEASURE FOR MEASURE


ACT II


SCENE I	A hall In ANGELO's house.


	[Enter ANGELO, ESCALUS, and a Justice, Provost,
	Officers, and other Attendants, behind]

ANGELO	We must not make a scarecrow of the law,
	Setting it up to fear the birds of prey,
	And let it keep one shape, till custom make it
	Their perch and not their terror.

ESCALUS	Ay, but yet
	Let us be keen, and rather cut a little,
	Than fall, and bruise to death. Alas, this gentleman
	Whom I would save, had a most noble father!
	Let but your honour know,
	Whom I believe to be most strait in virtue,
	That, in the working of your own affections,
	Had time cohered with place or place with wishing,
	Or that the resolute acting of your blood
	Could have attain'd the effect of your own purpose,
	Whether you had not sometime in your life
	Err'd in this point which now you censure him,
	And pull'd the law upon you.

ANGELO	'Tis one thing to be tempted, Escalus,
	Another thing to fall. I not deny,
	The jury, passing on the prisoner's life,
	May in the sworn twelve have a thief or two
	Guiltier than him they try. What's open made to justice,
	That justice seizes: what know the laws
	That thieves do pass on thieves? 'Tis very pregnant,
	The jewel that we find, we stoop and take't
	Because we see it; but what we do not see
	We tread upon, and never think of it.
	You may not so extenuate his offence
	For I have had such faults; but rather tell me,
	When I, that censure him, do so offend,
	Let mine own judgment pattern out my death,
	And nothing come in partial. Sir, he must die.

ESCALUS	Be it as your wisdom will.

ANGELO	Where is the provost?

Provost	Here, if it like your honour.

ANGELO	See that Claudio
	Be executed by nine to-morrow morning:
	Bring him his confessor, let him be prepared;
	For that's the utmost of his pilgrimage.

	[Exit Provost]

ESCALUS	[Aside]  Well, heaven forgive him! and forgive us all!
	Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall:
	Some run from brakes of ice, and answer none:
	And some condemned for a fault alone.

	[Enter ELBOW, and Officers with FROTH and POMPEY]

ELBOW	Come, bring them away: if these be good people in
	a commonweal that do nothing but use their abuses in
	common houses, I know no law: bring them away.

ANGELO	How now, sir! What's your name? and what's the matter?

ELBOW	If it Please your honour, I am the poor duke's
	constable, and my name is Elbow: I do lean upon
	justice, sir, and do bring in here before your good
	honour two notorious benefactors.

ANGELO	Benefactors? Well; what benefactors are they? are
	they not malefactors?

ELBOW	If it? please your honour, I know not well what they
	are: but precise villains they are, that I am sure
	of; and void of all profanation in the world that
	good Christians ought to have.

ESCALUS	This comes off well; here's a wise officer.

ANGELO	Go to: what quality are they of? Elbow is your
	name? why dost thou not speak, Elbow?

POMPEY	He cannot, sir; he's out at elbow.

ANGELO	What are you, sir?

ELBOW	He, sir! a tapster, sir; parcel-bawd; one that
	serves a bad woman; whose house, sir, was, as they
	say, plucked down in the suburbs; and now she
	professes a hot-house, which, I think, is a very ill house too.

ESCALUS	How know you that?

ELBOW	My wife, sir, whom I detest before heaven and your honour,--

ESCALUS	How? thy wife?

ELBOW	Ay, sir; whom, I thank heaven, is an honest woman,--

ESCALUS	Dost thou detest her therefore?

ELBOW	I say, sir, I will detest myself also, as well as
	she, that this house, if it be not a bawd's house,
	it is pity of her life, for it is a naughty house.

ESCALUS	How dost thou know that, constable?

ELBOW	Marry, sir, by my wife; who, if she had been a woman
	cardinally given, might have been accused in
	fornication, adultery, and all uncleanliness there.

ESCALUS	By the woman's means?

ELBOW	Ay, sir, by Mistress Overdone's means: but as she
	spit in his face, so she defied him.

POMPEY	Sir, if it please your honour, this is not so.

ELBOW	Prove it before these varlets here, thou honourable
	man; prove it.

ESCALUS	Do you hear how he misplaces?

POMPEY	Sir, she came in great with child; and longing,
	saving your honour's reverence, for stewed prunes;
	sir, we had but two in the house, which at that very
	distant time stood, as it were, in a fruit-dish, a
	dish of some three-pence; your honours have seen
	such dishes; they are not China dishes, but very
	good dishes,--

ESCALUS	Go to, go to: no matter for the dish, sir.

POMPEY	No, indeed, sir, not of a pin; you are therein in
	the right: but to the point. As I say, this
	Mistress Elbow, being, as I say, with child, and
	being great-bellied, and longing, as I said, for
	prunes; and having but two in the dish, as I said,
	Master Froth here, this very man, having eaten the
	rest, as I said, and, as I say, paying for them very
	honestly; for, as you know, Master Froth, I could
	not give you three-pence again.

FROTH	No, indeed.

POMPEY	Very well: you being then, if you be remembered,
	cracking the stones of the foresaid prunes,--

FROTH	Ay, so I did indeed.

POMPEY	Why, very well; I telling you then, if you be
	remembered, that such a one and such a one were past
	cure of the thing you wot of, unless they kept very
	good diet, as I told you,--

FROTH	All this is true.

POMPEY	Why, very well, then,--

ESCALUS	Come, you are a tedious fool: to the purpose. What
	was done to Elbow's wife, that he hath cause to
	complain of? Come me to what was done to her.

POMPEY	Sir, your honour cannot come to that yet.

ESCALUS	No, sir, nor I mean it not.

POMPEY	Sir, but you shall come to it, by your honour's
	leave. And, I beseech you, look into Master Froth
	here, sir; a man of four-score pound a year; whose
	father died at Hallowmas: was't not at Hallowmas,
	Master Froth?

FROTH	All-hallond eve.

POMPEY	Why, very well; I hope here be truths. He, sir,
	sitting, as I say, in a lower chair, sir; 'twas in
	the Bunch of Grapes, where indeed you have a delight
	to sit, have you not?

FROTH	I have so; because it is an open room and good for winter.

POMPEY	Why, very well, then; I hope here be truths.

ANGELO	This will last out a night in Russia,
	When nights are longest there: I'll take my leave.
	And leave you to the hearing of the cause;
	Hoping you'll find good cause to whip them all.

ESCALUS	I think no less. Good morrow to your lordship.

	[Exit ANGELO]

	Now, sir, come on: what was done to Elbow's wife, once more?

POMPEY	Once, sir? there was nothing done to her once.

ELBOW	I beseech you, sir, ask him what this man did to my wife.

POMPEY	I beseech your honour, ask me.

ESCALUS	Well, sir; what did this gentleman to her?

POMPEY	I beseech you, sir, look in this gentleman's face.
	Good Master Froth, look upon his honour; 'tis for a
	good purpose. Doth your honour mark his face?

ESCALUS	Ay, sir, very well.

POMPEY	Nay; I beseech you, mark it well.

ESCALUS	Well, I do so.

POMPEY	Doth your honour see any harm in his face?

ESCALUS	Why, no.

POMPEY	I'll be supposed upon a book, his face is the worst
	thing about him. Good, then; if his face be the
	worst thing about him, how could Master Froth do the
	constable's wife any harm? I would know that of
	your honour.

ESCALUS	He's in the right. Constable, what say you to it?

ELBOW	First, an it like you, the house is a respected
	house; next, this is a respected fellow; and his
	mistress is a respected woman.

POMPEY	By this hand, sir, his wife is a more respected
	person than any of us all.

ELBOW	Varlet, thou liest; thou liest, wicked varlet! the
	time has yet to come that she was ever respected
	with man, woman, or child.

POMPEY	Sir, she was respected with him before he married with her.

ESCALUS	Which is the wiser here? Justice or Iniquity? Is
	this true?

ELBOW	O thou caitiff! O thou varlet! O thou wicked
	Hannibal! I respected with her before I was married
	to her! If ever I was respected with her, or she
	with me, let not your worship think me the poor
	duke's officer. Prove this, thou wicked Hannibal, or
	I'll have mine action of battery on thee.

ESCALUS	If he took you a box o' the ear, you might have your
	action of slander too.

ELBOW	Marry, I thank your good worship for it. What is't
	your worship's pleasure I shall do with this wicked caitiff?

ESCALUS	Truly, officer, because he hath some offences in him
	that thou wouldst discover if thou couldst, let him
	continue in his courses till thou knowest what they
	are.

ELBOW	Marry, I thank your worship for it. Thou seest, thou
	wicked varlet, now, what's come upon thee: thou art
	to continue now, thou varlet; thou art to continue.

ESCALUS	Where were you born, friend?

FROTH	Here in Vienna, sir.

ESCALUS	Are you of fourscore pounds a year?

FROTH	Yes, an't please you, sir.

ESCALUS	So. What trade are you of, sir?

POMPHEY	Tapster; a poor widow's tapster.

ESCALUS	Your mistress' name?

POMPHEY	Mistress Overdone.

ESCALUS	Hath she had any more than one husband?

POMPEY	Nine, sir; Overdone by the last.

ESCALUS	Nine! Come hither to me, Master Froth. Master
	Froth, I would not have you acquainted with
	tapsters: they will draw you, Master Froth, and you
	will hang them. Get you gone, and let me hear no
	more of you.

FROTH	I thank your worship. For mine own part, I never
	come into any room in a tap-house, but I am drawn
	in.

ESCALUS	Well, no more of it, Master Froth: farewell.

	[Exit FROTH]

	Come you hither to me, Master tapster. What's your
	name, Master tapster?

POMPEY	Pompey.

ESCALUS	What else?

POMPEY	Bum, sir.

ESCALUS	Troth, and your bum is the greatest thing about you;
	so that in the beastliest sense you are Pompey the
	Great. Pompey, you are partly a bawd, Pompey,
	howsoever you colour it in being a tapster, are you
	not? come, tell me true: it shall be the better for you.

POMPEY	Truly, sir, I am a poor fellow that would live.

ESCALUS	How would you live, Pompey? by being a bawd? What
	do you think of the trade, Pompey? is it a lawful trade?

POMPEY	If the law would allow it, sir.

ESCALUS	But the law will not allow it, Pompey; nor it shall
	not be allowed in Vienna.

POMPEY	Does your worship mean to geld and splay all the
	youth of the city?

ESCALUS	No, Pompey.

POMPEY	Truly, sir, in my poor opinion, they will to't then.
	If your worship will take order for the drabs and
	the knaves, you need not to fear the bawds.

ESCALUS	There are pretty orders beginning, I can tell you:
	it is but heading and hanging.

POMPEY	If you head and hang all that offend that way but
	for ten year together, you'll be glad to give out a
	commission for more heads: if this law hold in
	Vienna ten year, I'll rent the fairest house in it
	after three-pence a bay: if you live to see this
	come to pass, say Pompey told you so.

ESCALUS	Thank you, good Pompey; and, in requital of your
	prophecy, hark you: I advise you, let me not find
	you before me again upon any complaint whatsoever;
	no, not for dwelling where you do: if I do, Pompey,
	I shall beat you to your tent, and prove a shrewd
	Caesar to you; in plain dealing, Pompey, I shall
	have you whipt: so, for this time, Pompey, fare you well.

POMPEY	I thank your worship for your good counsel:

	[Aside]

	but I shall follow it as the flesh and fortune shall
	better determine.
	Whip me? No, no; let carman whip his jade:
	The valiant heart is not whipt out of his trade.

	[Exit]

ESCALUS	Come hither to me, Master Elbow; come hither, Master
	constable. How long have you been in this place of constable?

ELBOW	Seven year and a half, sir.

ESCALUS	I thought, by your readiness in the office, you had
	continued in it some time. You say, seven years together?

ELBOW	And a half, sir.

ESCALUS	Alas, it hath been great pains to you. They do you
	wrong to put you so oft upon 't: are there not men
	in your ward sufficient to serve it?

ELBOW	Faith, sir, few of any wit in such matters: as they
	are chosen, they are glad to choose me for them; I
	do it for some piece of money, and go through with
	all.

ESCALUS	Look you bring me in the names of some six or seven,
	the most sufficient of your parish.

ELBOW	To your worship's house, sir?

ESCALUS	To my house. Fare you well.

	[Exit ELBOW]

	What's o'clock, think you?

Justice	Eleven, sir.

ESCALUS	I pray you home to dinner with me.

Justice	I humbly thank you.

ESCALUS	It grieves me for the death of Claudio;
	But there's no remedy.

Justice	Lord Angelo is severe.

ESCALUS	It is but needful:
	Mercy is not itself, that oft looks so;
	Pardon is still the nurse of second woe:
	But yet,--poor Claudio! There is no remedy.
	Come, sir.

	[Exeunt]




	MEASURE FOR MEASURE


ACT II


SCENE II	Another room in the same.


	[Enter Provost and a Servant]

Servant	He's hearing of a cause; he will come straight
	I'll tell him of you.

Provost	Pray you, do.

	[Exit Servant]

		                  I'll know
	His pleasure; may be he will relent. Alas,
	He hath but as offended in a dream!
	All sects, all ages smack of this vice; and he
	To die for't!

	[Enter ANGELO]

ANGELO	                  Now, what's the matter. Provost?

Provost	Is it your will Claudio shall die tomorrow?

ANGELO	Did not I tell thee yea? hadst thou not order?
	Why dost thou ask again?

Provost	Lest I might be too rash:
	Under your good correction, I have seen,
	When, after execution, judgment hath
	Repented o'er his doom.

ANGELO	Go to; let that be mine:
	Do you your office, or give up your place,
	And you shall well be spared.

Provost	I crave your honour's pardon.
	What shall be done, sir, with the groaning Juliet?
	She's very near her hour.

ANGELO	Dispose of her
	To some more fitter place, and that with speed.

	[Re-enter Servant]

Servant	Here is the sister of the man condemn'd
	Desires access to you.

ANGELO	Hath he a sister?

Provost	Ay, my good lord; a very virtuous maid,
	And to be shortly of a sisterhood,
	If not already.

ANGELO	                  Well, let her be admitted.

	[Exit Servant]

	See you the fornicatress be removed:
	Let have needful, but not lavish, means;
	There shall be order for't.

	[Enter ISABELLA and LUCIO]

Provost	God save your honour!

ANGELO	Stay a little while.

	[To ISABELLA]

		You're welcome: what's your will?

ISABELLA	I am a woeful suitor to your honour,
	Please but your honour hear me.

ANGELO	Well; what's your suit?

ISABELLA	There is a vice that most I do abhor,
	And most desire should meet the blow of justice;
	For which I would not plead, but that I must;
	For which I must not plead, but that I am
	At war 'twixt will and will not.

ANGELO	Well; the matter?

ISABELLA	I have a brother is condemn'd to die:
	I do beseech you, let it be his fault,
	And not my brother.

Provost	[Aside]  Heaven give thee moving graces!

ANGELO	Condemn the fault and not the actor of it?
	Why, every fault's condemn'd ere it be done:
	Mine were the very cipher of a function,
	To fine the faults whose fine stands in record,
	And let go by the actor.

ISABELLA	O just but severe law!
	I had a brother, then. Heaven keep your honour!

LUCIO	[Aside to ISABELLA]  Give't not o'er so: to him
	again, entreat him;
	Kneel down before him, hang upon his gown:
	You are too cold; if you should need a pin,
	You could not with more tame a tongue desire it:
	To him, I say!

ISABELLA	Must he needs die?

ANGELO	                  Maiden, no remedy.

ISABELLA	Yes; I do think that you might pardon him,
	And neither heaven nor man grieve at the mercy.

ANGELO	I will not do't.

ISABELLA	                  But can you, if you would?

ANGELO	Look, what I will not, that I cannot do.

ISABELLA	But might you do't, and do the world no wrong,
	If so your heart were touch'd with that remorse
	As mine is to him?

ANGELO	                  He's sentenced; 'tis too late.

LUCIO	[Aside to ISABELLA]  You are too cold.

ISABELLA	Too late? why, no; I, that do speak a word.
	May call it back again. Well, believe this,
	No ceremony that to great ones 'longs,
	Not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword,
	The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe,
	Become them with one half so good a grace
	As mercy does.
	If he had been as you and you as he,
	You would have slipt like him; but he, like you,
	Would not have been so stern.

ANGELO	Pray you, be gone.

ISABELLA	I would to heaven I had your potency,
	And you were Isabel! should it then be thus?
	No; I would tell what 'twere to be a judge,
	And what a prisoner.

LUCIO	[Aside to ISABELLA]

		Ay, touch him; there's the vein.

ANGELO	Your brother is a forfeit of the law,
	And you but waste your words.

ISABELLA	Alas, alas!
	Why, all the souls that were were forfeit once;
	And He that might the vantage best have took
	Found out the remedy. How would you be,
	If He, which is the top of judgment, should
	But judge you as you are? O, think on that;
	And mercy then will breathe within your lips,
	Like man new made.

ANGELO	                  Be you content, fair maid;
	It is the law, not I condemn your brother:
	Were he my kinsman, brother, or my son,
	It should be thus with him: he must die tomorrow.

ISABELLA	To-morrow! O, that's sudden! Spare him, spare him!
	He's not prepared for death. Even for our kitchens
	We kill the fowl of season: shall we serve heaven
	With less respect than we do minister
	To our gross selves? Good, good my lord, bethink you;
	Who is it that hath died for this offence?
	There's many have committed it.

LUCIO	[Aside to ISABELLA]           Ay, well said.

ANGELO	The law hath not been dead, though it hath slept:
	Those many had not dared to do that evil,
	If the first that did the edict infringe
	Had answer'd for his deed: now 'tis awake
	Takes note of what is done; and, like a prophet,
	Looks in a glass, that shows what future evils,
	Either new, or by remissness new-conceived,
	And so in progress to be hatch'd and born,
	Are now to have no successive degrees,
	But, ere they live, to end.

ISABELLA	Yet show some pity.

ANGELO	I show it most of all when I show justice;
	For then I pity those I do not know,
	Which a dismiss'd offence would after gall;
	And do him right that, answering one foul wrong,
	Lives not to act another. Be satisfied;
	Your brother dies to-morrow; be content.

ISABELLA	So you must be the first that gives this sentence,
	And he, that suffer's. O, it is excellent
	To have a giant's strength; but it is tyrannous
	To use it like a giant.

LUCIO	[Aside to ISABELLA]   That's well said.

ISABELLA	Could great men thunder
	As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet,
	For every pelting, petty officer
	Would use his heaven for thunder;
	Nothing but thunder! Merciful Heaven,
	Thou rather with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt
	Split'st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak
	Than the soft myrtle: but man, proud man,
	Drest in a little brief authority,
	Most ignorant of what he's most assured,
	His glassy essence, like an angry ape,
	Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven
	As make the angels weep; who, with our spleens,
	Would all themselves laugh mortal.

LUCIO	[Aside to ISABELLA]  O, to him, to him, wench! he
	will relent;
	He's coming; I perceive 't.

Provost	[Aside]  Pray heaven she win him!

ISABELLA	We cannot weigh our brother with ourself:
	Great men may jest with saints; 'tis wit in them,
	But in the less foul profanation.

LUCIO	Thou'rt i' the right, girl; more o, that.

ISABELLA	That in the captain's but a choleric word,
	Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy.

LUCIO	[Aside to ISABELLA]  Art avised o' that? more on 't.

ANGELO	Why do you put these sayings upon me?

ISABELLA	Because authority, though it err like others,
	Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself,
	That skins the vice o' the top. Go to your bosom;
	Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know
	That's like my brother's fault: if it confess
	A natural guiltiness such as is his,
	Let it not sound a thought upon your tongue
	Against my brother's life.

ANGELO	[Aside]                  She speaks, and 'tis
	Such sense, that my sense breeds with it. Fare you well.

ISABELLA	Gentle my lord, turn back.

ANGELO	I will bethink me: come again tomorrow.

ISABELLA	Hark how I'll bribe you: good my lord, turn back.

ANGELO	How! bribe me?

ISABELLA	Ay, with such gifts that heaven shall share with you.

LUCIO	[Aside to ISABELLA]  You had marr'd all else.

ISABELLA	Not with fond shekels of the tested gold,
	Or stones whose rates are either rich or poor
	As fancy values them; but with true prayers
	That shall be up at heaven and enter there
	Ere sun-rise, prayers from preserved souls,
	From fasting maids whose minds are dedicate
	To nothing temporal.

ANGELO	Well; come to me to-morrow.

LUCIO	[Aside to ISABELLA]  Go to; 'tis well; away!

ISABELLA	Heaven keep your honour safe!

ANGELO	[Aside]	Amen:
	For I am that way going to temptation,
	Where prayers cross.

ISABELLA	At what hour to-morrow
	Shall I attend your lordship?

ANGELO	At any time 'fore noon.

ISABELLA	'Save your honour!

	[Exeunt ISABELLA, LUCIO, and Provost]

ANGELO	                  From thee, even from thy virtue!
	What's this, what's this? Is this her fault or mine?
	The tempter or the tempted, who sins most?
	Ha!
	Not she: nor doth she tempt: but it is I
	That, lying by the violet in the sun,
	Do as the carrion does, not as the flower,
	Corrupt with virtuous season. Can it be
	That modesty may more betray our sense
	Than woman's lightness? Having waste ground enough,
	Shall we desire to raze the sanctuary
	And pitch our evils there? O, fie, fie, fie!
	What dost thou, or what art thou, Angelo?
	Dost thou desire her foully for those things
	That make her good? O, let her brother live!
	Thieves for their robbery have authority
	When judges steal themselves. What, do I love her,
	That I desire to hear her speak again,
	And feast upon her eyes? What is't I dream on?
	O cunning enemy, that, to catch a saint,
	With saints dost bait thy hook! Most dangerous
	Is that temptation that doth goad us on
	To sin in loving virtue: never could the strumpet,
	With all her double vigour, art and nature,
	Once stir my temper; but this virtuous maid
	Subdues me quite. Even till now,
	When men were fond, I smiled and wonder'd how.

	[Exit]




	MEASURE FOR MEASURE


ACT II


SCENE III	A room in a prison.


	[Enter, severally, DUKE VINCENTIO disguised as a
	friar, and Provost]

DUKE VINCENTIO	Hail to you, provost! so I think you are.

Provost	I am the provost. What's your will, good friar?

DUKE VINCENTIO	Bound by my charity and my blest order,
	I come to visit the afflicted spirits
	Here in the prison. Do me the common right
	To let me see them and to make me know
	The nature of their crimes, that I may minister
	To them accordingly.

Provost	I would do more than that, if more were needful.

	[Enter JULIET]

	Look, here comes one: a gentlewoman of mine,
	Who, falling in the flaws of her own youth,
	Hath blister'd her report: she is with child;
	And he that got it, sentenced; a young man
	More fit to do another such offence
	Than die for this.

DUKE VINCENTIO	When must he die?

Provost	                  As I do think, to-morrow.
	I have provided for you: stay awhile,

	[To JULIET]

	And you shall be conducted.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Repent you, fair one, of the sin you carry?

JULIET	I do; and bear the shame most patiently.

DUKE VINCENTIO	I'll teach you how you shall arraign your conscience,
	And try your penitence, if it be sound,
	Or hollowly put on.

JULIET	I'll gladly learn.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Love you the man that wrong'd you?

JULIET	Yes, as I love the woman that wrong'd him.

DUKE VINCENTIO	So then it seems your most offenceful act
	Was mutually committed?

JULIET	Mutually.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Then was your sin of heavier kind than his.

JULIET	I do confess it, and repent it, father.

DUKE VINCENTIO	'Tis meet so, daughter: but lest you do repent,
	As that the sin hath brought you to this shame,
	Which sorrow is always towards ourselves, not heaven,
	Showing we would not spare heaven as we love it,
	But as we stand in fear,--

JULIET	I do repent me, as it is an evil,
	And take the shame with joy.

DUKE VINCENTIO	There rest.
	Your partner, as I hear, must die to-morrow,
	And I am going with instruction to him.
	Grace go with you, Benedicite!

	[Exit]

JULIET	Must die to-morrow! O injurious love,
	That respites me a life, whose very comfort
	Is still a dying horror!

Provost	'Tis pity of him.

	[Exeunt]




	MEASURE FOR MEASURE


ACT II


SCENE IV	A room in ANGELO's house.


	[Enter ANGELO]

ANGELO	When I would pray and think, I think and pray
	To several subjects. Heaven hath my empty words;
	Whilst my invention, hearing not my tongue,
	Anchors on Isabel: Heaven in my mouth,
	As if I did but only chew his name;
	And in my heart the strong and swelling evil
	Of my conception. The state, whereon I studied
	Is like a good thing, being often read,
	Grown fear'd and tedious; yea, my gravity,
	Wherein--let no man hear me--I take pride,
	Could I with boot change for an idle plume,
	Which the air beats for vain. O place, O form,
	How often dost thou with thy case, thy habit,
	Wrench awe from fools and tie the wiser souls
	To thy false seeming! Blood, thou art blood:
	Let's write good angel on the devil's horn:
	'Tis not the devil's crest.

	[Enter a Servant]

		      How now! who's there?

Servant	One Isabel, a sister, desires access to you.

ANGELO	Teach her the way.

	[Exit Servant]

	O heavens!
	Why does my blood thus muster to my heart,
	Making both it unable for itself,
	And dispossessing all my other parts
	Of necessary fitness?
	So play the foolish throngs with one that swoons;
	Come all to help him, and so stop the air
	By which he should revive: and even so
	The general, subject to a well-wish'd king,
	Quit their own part, and in obsequious fondness
	Crowd to his presence, where their untaught love
	Must needs appear offence.

	[Enter ISABELLA]

		     How now, fair maid?

ISABELLA	I am come to know your pleasure.

ANGELO	That you might know it, would much better please me
	Than to demand what 'tis. Your brother cannot live.

ISABELLA	Even so. Heaven keep your honour!

ANGELO	Yet may he live awhile; and, it may be,
	As long as you or I	yet he must die.

ISABELLA	Under your sentence?

ANGELO	Yea.

ISABELLA	When, I beseech you? that in his reprieve,
	Longer or shorter, he may be so fitted
	That his soul sicken not.

ANGELO	Ha! fie, these filthy vices! It were as good
	To pardon him that hath from nature stolen
	A man already made, as to remit
	Their saucy sweetness that do coin heaven's image
	In stamps that are forbid: 'tis all as easy
	Falsely to take away a life true made
	As to put metal in restrained means
	To make a false one.

ISABELLA	'Tis set down so in heaven, but not in earth.

ANGELO	Say you so? then I shall pose you quickly.
	Which had you rather, that the most just law
	Now took your brother's life; or, to redeem him,
	Give up your body to such sweet uncleanness
	As she that he hath stain'd?

ISABELLA	Sir, believe this,
	I had rather give my body than my soul.

ANGELO	I talk not of your soul: our compell'd sins
	Stand more for number than for accompt.

ISABELLA	How say you?

ANGELO	Nay, I'll not warrant that; for I can speak
	Against the thing I say. Answer to this:
	I, now the voice of the recorded law,
	Pronounce a sentence on your brother's life:
	Might there not be a charity in sin
	To save this brother's life?

ISABELLA	Please you to do't,
	I'll take it as a peril to my soul,
	It is no sin at all, but charity.

ANGELO	Pleased you to do't at peril of your soul,
	Were equal poise of sin and charity.

ISABELLA	That I do beg his life, if it be sin,
	Heaven let me bear it! you granting of my suit,
	If that be sin, I'll make it my morn prayer
	To have it added to the faults of mine,
	And nothing of your answer.

ANGELO	Nay, but hear me.
	Your sense pursues not mine: either you are ignorant,
	Or seem so craftily; and that's not good.

ISABELLA	Let me be ignorant, and in nothing good,
	But graciously to know I am no better.

ANGELO	Thus wisdom wishes to appear most bright
	When it doth tax itself; as these black masks
	Proclaim an enshield beauty ten times louder
	Than beauty could, display'd. But mark me;
	To be received plain, I'll speak more gross:
	Your brother is to die.

ISABELLA	So.

ANGELO	And his offence is so, as it appears,
	Accountant to the law upon that pain.

ISABELLA	True.

ANGELO	Admit no other way to save his life,--
	As I subscribe not that, nor any other,
	But in the loss of question,--that you, his sister,
	Finding yourself desired of such a person,
	Whose credit with the judge, or own great place,
	Could fetch your brother from the manacles
	Of the all-building law; and that there were
	No earthly mean to save him, but that either
	You must lay down the treasures of your body
	To this supposed, or else to let him suffer;
	What would you do?

ISABELLA	As much for my poor brother as myself:
	That is, were I under the terms of death,
	The impression of keen whips I'ld wear as rubies,
	And strip myself to death, as to a bed
	That longing have been sick for, ere I'ld yield
	My body up to shame.

ANGELO	Then must your brother die.

ISABELLA	And 'twere the cheaper way:
	Better it were a brother died at once,
	Than that a sister, by redeeming him,
	Should die for ever.

ANGELO	Were not you then as cruel as the sentence
	That you have slander'd so?

ISABELLA	Ignomy in ransom and free pardon
	Are of two houses: lawful mercy
	Is nothing kin to foul redemption.

ANGELO	You seem'd of late to make the law a tyrant;
	And rather proved the sliding of your brother
	A merriment than a vice.

ISABELLA	O, pardon me, my lord; it oft falls out,
	To have what we would have, we speak not what we mean:
	I something do excuse the thing I hate,
	For his advantage that I dearly love.

ANGELO	We are all frail.

ISABELLA	                  Else let my brother die,
	If not a feodary, but only he
	Owe and succeed thy weakness.

ANGELO	Nay, women are frail too.

ISABELLA	Ay, as the glasses where they view themselves;
	Which are as easy broke as they make forms.
	Women! Help Heaven! men their creation mar
	In profiting by them. Nay, call us ten times frail;
	For we are soft as our complexions are,
	And credulous to false prints.

ANGELO	I think it well:
	And from this testimony of your own sex,--
	Since I suppose we are made to be no stronger
	Than faults may shake our frames,--let me be bold;
	I do arrest your words. Be that you are,
	That is, a woman; if you be more, you're none;
	If you be one, as you are well express'd
	By all external warrants, show it now,
	By putting on the destined livery.

ISABELLA	I have no tongue but one: gentle my lord,
	Let me entreat you speak the former language.

ANGELO	Plainly conceive, I love you.

ISABELLA	My brother did love Juliet,
	And you tell me that he shall die for it.

ANGELO	He shall not, Isabel, if you give me love.

ISABELLA	I know your virtue hath a licence in't,
	Which seems a little fouler than it is,
	To pluck on others.

ANGELO	Believe me, on mine honour,
	My words express my purpose.

ISABELLA	Ha! little honour to be much believed,
	And most pernicious purpose! Seeming, seeming!
	I will proclaim thee, Angelo; look for't:
	Sign me a present pardon for my brother,
	Or with an outstretch'd throat I'll tell the world aloud
	What man thou art.

ANGELO	                  Who will believe thee, Isabel?
	My unsoil'd name, the austereness of my life,
	My vouch against you, and my place i' the state,
	Will so your accusation overweigh,
	That you shall stifle in your own report
	And smell of calumny. I have begun,
	And now I give my sensual race the rein:
	Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite;
	Lay by all nicety and prolixious blushes,
	That banish what they sue for; redeem thy brother
	By yielding up thy body to my will;
	Or else he must not only die the death,
	But thy unkindness shall his death draw out
	To lingering sufferance. Answer me to-morrow,
	Or, by the affection that now guides me most,
	I'll prove a tyrant to him. As for you,
	Say what you can, my false o'erweighs your true.

	[Exit]

ISABELLA	To whom should I complain? Did I tell this,
	Who would believe me? O perilous mouths,
	That bear in them one and the self-same tongue,
	Either of condemnation or approof;
	Bidding the law make court'sy to their will:
	Hooking both right and wrong to the appetite,
	To follow as it draws! I'll to my brother:
	Though he hath fallen by prompture of the blood,
	Yet hath he in him such a mind of honour.
	That, had he twenty heads to tender down
	On twenty bloody blocks, he'ld yield them up,
	Before his sister should her body stoop
	To such abhorr'd pollution.
	Then, Isabel, live chaste, and, brother, die:
	More than our brother is our chastity.
	I'll tell him yet of Angelo's request,
	And fit his mind to death, for his soul's rest.

	[Exit]




	MEASURE FOR MEASURE


ACT III


SCENE I	A room in the prison.


	[Enter DUKE VINCENTIO disguised as before, CLAUDIO,
	and Provost]

DUKE VINCENTIO	So then you hope of pardon from Lord Angelo?

CLAUDIO	The miserable have no other medicine
	But only hope:
	I've hope to live, and am prepared to die.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Be absolute for death; either death or life
	Shall thereby be the sweeter. Reason thus with life:
	If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing
	That none but fools would keep: a breath thou art,
	Servile to all the skyey influences,
	That dost this habitation, where thou keep'st,
	Hourly afflict: merely, thou art death's fool;
	For him thou labour'st by thy flight to shun
	And yet runn'st toward him still. Thou art not noble;
	For all the accommodations that thou bear'st
	Are nursed by baseness. Thou'rt by no means valiant;
	For thou dost fear the soft and tender fork
	Of a poor worm. Thy best of rest is sleep,
	And that thou oft provokest; yet grossly fear'st
	Thy death, which is no more. Thou art not thyself;
	For thou exist'st on many a thousand grains
	That issue out of dust. Happy thou art not;
	For what thou hast not, still thou strivest to get,
	And what thou hast, forget'st. Thou art not certain;
	For thy complexion shifts to strange effects,
	After the moon. If thou art rich, thou'rt poor;
	For, like an ass whose back with ingots bows,
	Thou bear's thy heavy riches but a journey,
	And death unloads thee. Friend hast thou none;
	For thine own bowels, which do call thee sire,
	The mere effusion of thy proper loins,
	Do curse the gout, serpigo, and the rheum,
	For ending thee no sooner. Thou hast nor youth nor age,
	But, as it were, an after-dinner's sleep,
	Dreaming on both; for all thy blessed youth
	Becomes as aged, and doth beg the alms
	Of palsied eld; and when thou art old and rich,
	Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor beauty,
	To make thy riches pleasant. What's yet in this
	That bears the name of life? Yet in this life
	Lie hid moe thousand deaths: yet death we fear,
	That makes these odds all even.

CLAUDIO	I humbly thank you.
	To sue to live, I find I seek to die;
	And, seeking death, find life: let it come on.

ISABELLA	[Within]  What, ho! Peace here; grace and good company!

Provost	Who's there? come in: the wish deserves a welcome.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Dear sir, ere long I'll visit you again.

CLAUDIO	Most holy sir, I thank you.

	[Enter ISABELLA]

ISABELLA	My business is a word or two with Claudio.

Provost	And very welcome. Look, signior, here's your sister.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Provost, a word with you.

Provost	As many as you please.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Bring me to hear them speak, where I may be concealed.

	[Exeunt DUKE VINCENTIO and Provost]

CLAUDIO	Now, sister, what's the comfort?

ISABELLA	Why,
	As all comforts are; most good, most good indeed.
	Lord Angelo, having affairs to heaven,
	Intends you for his swift ambassador,
	Where you shall be an everlasting leiger:
	Therefore your best appointment make with speed;
	To-morrow you set on.

CLAUDIO	Is there no remedy?

ISABELLA	None, but such remedy as, to save a head,
	To cleave a heart in twain.

CLAUDIO	But is there any?

ISABELLA	Yes, brother, you may live:
	There is a devilish mercy in the judge,
	If you'll implore it, that will free your life,
	But fetter you till death.

CLAUDIO	Perpetual durance?

ISABELLA	Ay, just; perpetual durance, a restraint,
	Though all the world's vastidity you had,
	To a determined scope.

CLAUDIO	But in what nature?

ISABELLA	In such a one as, you consenting to't,
	Would bark your honour from that trunk you bear,
	And leave you naked.

CLAUDIO	Let me know the point.

ISABELLA	O, I do fear thee, Claudio; and I quake,
	Lest thou a feverous life shouldst entertain,
	And six or seven winters more respect
	Than a perpetual honour. Darest thou die?
	The sense of death is most in apprehension;
	And the poor beetle, that we tread upon,
	In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great
	As when a giant dies.

CLAUDIO	Why give you me this shame?
	Think you I can a resolution fetch
	From flowery tenderness? If I must die,
	I will encounter darkness as a bride,
	And hug it in mine arms.

ISABELLA	There spake my brother; there my father's grave
	Did utter forth a voice. Yes, thou must die:
	Thou art too noble to conserve a life
	In base appliances. This outward-sainted deputy,
	Whose settled visage and deliberate word
	Nips youth i' the head and follies doth emmew
	As falcon doth the fowl, is yet a devil
	His filth within being cast, he would appear
	A pond as deep as hell.

CLAUDIO	The prenzie Angelo!

ISABELLA	O, 'tis the cunning livery of hell,
	The damned'st body to invest and cover
	In prenzie guards! Dost thou think, Claudio?
	If I would yield him my virginity,
	Thou mightst be freed.

CLAUDIO	O heavens! it cannot be.

ISABELLA	Yes, he would give't thee, from this rank offence,
	So to offend him still. This night's the time
	That I should do what I abhor to name,
	Or else thou diest to-morrow.

CLAUDIO	Thou shalt not do't.

ISABELLA	O, were it but my life,
	I'ld throw it down for your deliverance
	As frankly as a pin.

CLAUDIO	Thanks, dear Isabel.

ISABELLA	Be ready, Claudio, for your death tomorrow.

CLAUDIO	Yes. Has he affections in him,
	That thus can make him bite the law by the nose,
	When he would force it? Sure, it is no sin,
	Or of the deadly seven, it is the least.

ISABELLA	Which is the least?

CLAUDIO	If it were damnable, he being so wise,
	Why would he for the momentary trick
	Be perdurably fined? O Isabel!

ISABELLA	What says my brother?

CLAUDIO	Death is a fearful thing.

ISABELLA	And shamed life a hateful.

CLAUDIO	Ay, but to die, and go we know not where;
	To lie in cold obstruction and to rot;
	This sensible warm motion to become
	A kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit
	To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside
	In thrilling region of thick-ribbed ice;
	To be imprison'd in the viewless winds,
	And blown with restless violence round about
	The pendent world; or to be worse than worst
	Of those that lawless and incertain thought
	Imagine howling: 'tis too horrible!
	The weariest and most loathed worldly life
	That age, ache, penury and imprisonment
	Can lay on nature is a paradise
	To what we fear of death.

ISABELLA	Alas, alas!

CLAUDIO	          Sweet sister, let me live:
	What sin you do to save a brother's life,
	Nature dispenses with the deed so far
	That it becomes a virtue.

ISABELLA	O you beast!
	O faithless coward! O dishonest wretch!
	Wilt thou be made a man out of my vice?
	Is't not a kind of incest, to take life
	From thine own sister's shame? What should I think?
	Heaven shield my mother play'd my father fair!
	For such a warped slip of wilderness
	Ne'er issued from his blood. Take my defiance!
	Die, perish! Might but my bending down
	Reprieve thee from thy fate, it should proceed:
	I'll pray a thousand prayers for thy death,
	No word to save thee.

CLAUDIO	Nay, hear me, Isabel.

ISABELLA	O, fie, fie, fie!
	Thy sin's not accidental, but a trade.
	Mercy to thee would prove itself a bawd:
	'Tis best thou diest quickly.

CLAUDIO	O hear me, Isabella!

	[Re-enter DUKE VINCENTIO]

DUKE VINCENTIO	Vouchsafe a word, young sister, but one word.

ISABELLA	What is your will?

DUKE VINCENTIO	Might you dispense with your leisure, I would by and
	by have some speech with you: the satisfaction I
	would require is likewise your own benefit.

ISABELLA	I have no superfluous leisure; my stay must be
	stolen out of other affairs; but I will attend you awhile.

	[Walks apart]

DUKE VINCENTIO	Son, I have overheard what hath passed between you
	and your sister. Angelo had never the purpose to
	corrupt her; only he hath made an essay of her
	virtue to practise his judgment with the disposition
	of natures: she, having the truth of honour in her,
	hath made him that gracious denial which he is most
	glad to receive. I am confessor to Angelo, and I
	know this to be true; therefore prepare yourself to
	death: do not satisfy your resolution with hopes
	that are fallible: tomorrow you must die; go to
	your knees and make ready.

CLAUDIO	Let me ask my sister pardon. I am so out of love
	with life that I will sue to be rid of it.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Hold you there: farewell.

	[Exit CLAUDIO]

	Provost, a word with you!

	[Re-enter Provost]

Provost	What's your will, father

DUKE VINCENTIO	That now you are come, you will be gone. Leave me
	awhile with the maid: my mind promises with my
	habit no loss shall touch her by my company.

Provost	In good time.

	[Exit Provost. ISABELLA comes forward]

DUKE VINCENTIO	The hand that hath made you fair hath made you good:
	the goodness that is cheap in beauty makes beauty
	brief in goodness; but grace, being the soul of
	your complexion, shall keep the body of it ever
	fair. The assault that Angelo hath made to you,
	fortune hath conveyed to my understanding; and, but
	that frailty hath examples for his falling, I should
	wonder at Angelo. How will you do to content this
	substitute, and to save your brother?

ISABELLA	I am now going to resolve him: I had rather my
	brother die by the law than my son should be
	unlawfully born. But, O, how much is the good duke
	deceived in Angelo! If ever he return and I can
	speak to him, I will open my lips in vain, or
	discover his government.

DUKE VINCENTIO	That shall not be much amiss: Yet, as the matter
	now stands, he will avoid your accusation; he made
	trial of you only. Therefore fasten your ear on my
	advisings: to the love I have in doing good a
	remedy presents itself. I do make myself believe
	that you may most uprighteously do a poor wronged
	lady a merited benefit; redeem your brother from
	the angry law; do no stain to your own gracious
	person; and much please the absent duke, if
	peradventure he shall ever return to have hearing of
	this business.

ISABELLA	Let me hear you speak farther. I have spirit to do
	anything that appears not foul in the truth of my spirit.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Virtue is bold, and goodness never fearful. Have
	you not heard speak of Mariana, the sister of
	Frederick the great soldier who miscarried at sea?

ISABELLA	I have heard of the lady, and good words went with her name.

DUKE VINCENTIO	She should this Angelo have married; was affianced
	to her by oath, and the nuptial appointed: between
	which time of the contract and limit of the
	solemnity, her brother Frederick was wrecked at sea,
	having in that perished vessel the dowry of his
	sister. But mark how heavily this befell to the
	poor gentlewoman: there she lost a noble and
	renowned brother, in his love toward her ever most
	kind and natural; with him, the portion and sinew of
	her fortune, her marriage-dowry; with both, her
	combinate husband, this well-seeming Angelo.

ISABELLA	Can this be so? did Angelo so leave her?

DUKE VINCENTIO	Left her in her tears, and dried not one of them
	with his comfort; swallowed his vows whole,
	pretending in her discoveries of dishonour: in few,
	bestowed her on her own lamentation, which she yet
	wears for his sake; and he, a marble to her tears,
	is washed with them, but relents not.

ISABELLA	What a merit were it in death to take this poor maid
	from the world! What corruption in this life, that
	it will let this man live! But how out of this can she avail?

DUKE VINCENTIO	It is a rupture that you may easily heal: and the
	cure of it not only saves your brother, but keeps
	you from dishonour in doing it.

ISABELLA	Show me how, good father.

DUKE VINCENTIO	This forenamed maid hath yet in her the continuance
	of her first affection: his unjust unkindness, that
	in all reason should have quenched her love, hath,
	like an impediment in the current, made it more
	violent and unruly. Go you to Angelo; answer his
	requiring with a plausible obedience; agree with
	his demands to the point; only refer yourself to
	this advantage, first, that your stay with him may
	not be long; that the time may have all shadow and
	silence in it; and the place answer to convenience.
	This being granted in course,--and now follows
	all,--we shall advise this wronged maid to stead up
	your appointment, go in your place; if the encounter
	acknowledge itself hereafter, it may compel him to
	her recompense: and here, by this, is your brother
	saved, your honour untainted, the poor Mariana
	advantaged, and the corrupt deputy scaled. The maid
	will I frame and make fit for his attempt. If you
	think well to carry this as you may, the doubleness
	of the benefit defends the deceit from reproof.
	What think you of it?

ISABELLA	The image of it gives me content already; and I
	trust it will grow to a most prosperous perfection.

DUKE VINCENTIO	It lies much in your holding up. Haste you speedily
	to Angelo: if for this night he entreat you to his
	bed, give him promise of satisfaction. I will
	presently to Saint Luke's: there, at the moated
	grange, resides this dejected Mariana. At that
	place call upon me; and dispatch with Angelo, that
	it may be quickly.

ISABELLA	I thank you for this comfort. Fare you well, good father.

	[Exeunt severally]




	MEASURE FOR MEASURE


ACT III



SCENE II	The street before the prison.


	[Enter, on one side, DUKE VINCENTIO disguised as
	before; on the other, ELBOW, and Officers with POMPEY]

ELBOW	Nay, if there be no remedy for it, but that you will
	needs buy and sell men and women like beasts, we
	shall have all the world drink brown and white bastard.

DUKE VINCENTIO	O heavens! what stuff is here

POMPEY	'Twas never merry world since, of two usuries, the
	merriest was put down, and the worser allowed by
	order of law a furred gown to keep him warm; and
	furred with fox and lamb-skins too, to signify, that
	craft, being richer than innocency, stands for the facing.

ELBOW	Come your way, sir. 'Bless you, good father friar.

DUKE VINCENTIO	And you, good brother father. What offence hath
	this man made you, sir?

ELBOW	Marry, sir, he hath offended the law: and, sir, we
	take him to be a thief too, sir; for we have found
	upon him, sir, a strange picklock, which we have
	sent to the deputy.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Fie, sirrah! a bawd, a wicked bawd!
	The evil that thou causest to be done,
	That is thy means to live. Do thou but think
	What 'tis to cram a maw or clothe a back
	From such a filthy vice: say to thyself,
	From their abominable and beastly touches
	I drink, I eat, array myself, and live.
	Canst thou believe thy living is a life,
	So stinkingly depending? Go mend, go mend.

POMPEY	Indeed, it does stink in some sort, sir; but yet,
	sir, I would prove--

DUKE VINCENTIO	Nay, if the devil have given thee proofs for sin,
	Thou wilt prove his. Take him to prison, officer:
	Correction and instruction must both work
	Ere this rude beast will profit.

ELBOW	He must before the deputy, sir; he has given him
	warning: the deputy cannot abide a whoremaster: if
	he be a whoremonger, and comes before him, he were
	as good go a mile on his errand.

DUKE VINCENTIO	That we were all, as some would seem to be,
	From our faults, as faults from seeming, free!

ELBOW	His neck will come to your waist,--a cord, sir.

POMPEY	I spy comfort; I cry bail. Here's a gentleman and a
	friend of mine.

	[Enter LUCIO]

LUCIO	How now, noble Pompey! What, at the wheels of
	Caesar? art thou led in triumph? What, is there
	none of Pygmalion's images, newly made woman, to be
	had now, for putting the hand in the pocket and
	extracting it clutch'd? What reply, ha? What
	sayest thou to this tune, matter and method? Is't
	not drowned i' the last rain, ha? What sayest
	thou, Trot? Is the world as it was, man? Which is
	the way? Is it sad, and few words? or how? The
	trick of it?

DUKE VINCENTIO	Still thus, and thus; still worse!

LUCIO	How doth my dear morsel, thy mistress? Procures she
	still, ha?

POMPEY	Troth, sir, she hath eaten up all her beef, and she
	is herself in the tub.

LUCIO	Why, 'tis good; it is the right of it; it must be
	so: ever your fresh whore and your powdered bawd:
	an unshunned consequence; it must be so. Art going
	to prison, Pompey?

POMPEY	Yes, faith, sir.

LUCIO	Why, 'tis not amiss, Pompey. Farewell: go, say I
	sent thee thither. For debt, Pompey? or how?

ELBOW	For being a bawd, for being a bawd.

LUCIO	Well, then, imprison him: if imprisonment be the
	due of a bawd, why, 'tis his right: bawd is he
	doubtless, and of antiquity too; bawd-born.
	Farewell, good Pompey. Commend me to the prison,
	Pompey: you will turn good husband now, Pompey; you
	will keep the house.

POMPEY	I hope, sir, your good worship will be my bail.

LUCIO	No, indeed, will I not, Pompey; it is not the wear.
	I will pray, Pompey, to increase your bondage: If
	you take it not patiently, why, your mettle is the
	more. Adieu, trusty Pompey. 'Bless you, friar.

DUKE VINCENTIO	And you.

LUCIO	Does Bridget paint still, Pompey, ha?

ELBOW	Come your ways, sir; come.

POMPEY	You will not bail me, then, sir?

LUCIO	Then, Pompey, nor now. What news abroad, friar?
	what news?

ELBOW	Come your ways, sir; come.

LUCIO	Go to kennel, Pompey; go.

	[Exeunt ELBOW, POMPEY and Officers]

	What news, friar, of the duke?

DUKE VINCENTIO	I know none. Can you tell me of any?

LUCIO	Some say he is with the Emperor of Russia; other
	some, he is in Rome: but where is he, think you?

DUKE VINCENTIO	I know not where; but wheresoever, I wish him well.

LUCIO	It was a mad fantastical trick of him to steal from
	the state, and usurp the beggary he was never born
	to. Lord Angelo dukes it well in his absence; he
	puts transgression to 't.

DUKE VINCENTIO	He does well in 't.

LUCIO	A little more lenity to lechery would do no harm in
	him: something too crabbed that way, friar.

DUKE VINCENTIO	It is too general a vice, and severity must cure it.

LUCIO	Yes, in good sooth, the vice is of a great kindred;
	it is well allied: but it is impossible to extirp
	it quite, friar, till eating and drinking be put
	down. They say this Angelo was not made by man and
	woman after this downright way of creation: is it
	true, think you?

DUKE VINCENTIO	How should he be made, then?

LUCIO	Some report a sea-maid spawned him; some, that he
	was begot between two stock-fishes. But it is
	certain that when he makes water his urine is
	congealed ice; that I know to be true: and he is a
	motion generative; that's infallible.

DUKE VINCENTIO	You are pleasant, sir, and speak apace.

LUCIO	Why, what a ruthless thing is this in him, for the
	rebellion of a codpiece to take away the life of a
	man! Would the duke that is absent have done this?
	Ere he would have hanged a man for the getting a
	hundred bastards, he would have paid for the nursing
	a thousand: he had some feeling of the sport: he
	knew the service, and that instructed him to mercy.

DUKE VINCENTIO	I never heard the absent duke much detected for
	women; he was not inclined that way.

LUCIO	O, sir, you are deceived.

DUKE VINCENTIO	'Tis not possible.

LUCIO	Who, not the duke? yes, your beggar of fifty; and
	his use was to put a ducat in her clack-dish: the
	duke had crotchets in him. He would be drunk too;
	that let me inform you.

DUKE VINCENTIO	You do him wrong, surely.

LUCIO	Sir, I was an inward of his. A shy fellow was the
	duke: and I believe I know the cause of his
	withdrawing.

DUKE VINCENTIO	What, I prithee, might be the cause?

LUCIO	No, pardon; 'tis a secret must be locked within the
	teeth and the lips: but this I can let you
	understand, the greater file of the subject held the
	duke to be wise.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Wise! why, no question but he was.

LUCIO	A very superficial, ignorant, unweighing fellow.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Either this is the envy in you, folly, or mistaking:
	the very stream of his life and the business he hath
	helmed must upon a warranted need give him a better
	proclamation. Let him be but testimonied in his own
	bringings-forth, and he shall appear to the
	envious a scholar, a statesman and a soldier.
	Therefore you speak unskilfully: or if your
	knowledge be more it is much darkened in your malice.

LUCIO	Sir, I know him, and I love him.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Love talks with better knowledge, and knowledge with
	dearer love.

LUCIO	Come, sir, I know what I know.

DUKE VINCENTIO	I can hardly believe that, since you know not what
	you speak. But, if ever the duke return, as our
	prayers are he may, let me desire you to make your
	answer before him. If it be honest you have spoke,
	you have courage to maintain it: I am bound to call
	upon you; and, I pray you, your name?

LUCIO	Sir, my name is Lucio; well known to the duke.

DUKE VINCENTIO	He shall know you better, sir, if I may live to
	report you.

LUCIO	I fear you not.

DUKE VINCENTIO	O, you hope the duke will return no more; or you
	imagine me too unhurtful an opposite. But indeed I
	can do you little harm; you'll forswear this again.

LUCIO	I'll be hanged first: thou art deceived in me,
	friar. But no more of this. Canst thou tell if
	Claudio die to-morrow or no?

DUKE VINCENTIO	Why should he die, sir?

LUCIO	Why? For filling a bottle with a tundish. I would
	the duke we talk of were returned again: the
	ungenitured agent will unpeople the province with
	continency; sparrows must not build in his
	house-eaves, because they are lecherous. The duke
	yet would have dark deeds darkly answered; he would
	never bring them to light: would he were returned!
	Marry, this Claudio is condemned for untrussing.
	Farewell, good friar: I prithee, pray for me. The
	duke, I say to thee again, would eat mutton on
	Fridays. He's not past it yet, and I say to thee,
	he would mouth with a beggar, though she smelt brown
	bread and garlic: say that I said so. Farewell.

	[Exit]

DUKE VINCENTIO	No might nor greatness in mortality
	Can censure 'scape; back-wounding calumny
	The whitest virtue strikes. What king so strong
	Can tie the gall up in the slanderous tongue?
	But who comes here?

	[Enter ESCALUS, Provost, and Officers with MISTRESS OVERDONE]

ESCALUS	Go; away with her to prison!

MISTRESS OVERDONE	Good my lord, be good to me; your honour is accounted
	a merciful man; good my lord.

ESCALUS	Double and treble admonition, and still forfeit in
	the same kind! This would make mercy swear and play
	the tyrant.

Provost	A bawd of eleven years' continuance, may it please
	your honour.

MISTRESS OVERDONE	My lord, this is one Lucio's information against me.
	Mistress Kate Keepdown was with child by him in the
	duke's time; he promised her marriage: his child
	is a year and a quarter old, come Philip and Jacob:
	I have kept it myself; and see how he goes about to abuse me!

ESCALUS	That fellow is a fellow of much licence: let him be
	called before us. Away with her to prison! Go to;
	no more words.

	[Exeunt Officers with MISTRESS OVERDONE]

	Provost, my brother Angelo will not be altered;
	Claudio must die to-morrow: let him be furnished
	with divines, and have all charitable preparation.
	if my brother wrought by my pity, it should not be
	so with him.

Provost	So please you, this friar hath been with him, and
	advised him for the entertainment of death.

ESCALUS	Good even, good father.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Bliss and goodness on you!

ESCALUS	Of whence are you?

DUKE VINCENTIO	Not of this country, though my chance is now
	To use it for my time: I am a brother
	Of gracious order, late come from the See
	In special business from his holiness.

ESCALUS	What news abroad i' the world?

DUKE VINCENTIO	None, but that there is so great a fever on
	goodness, that the dissolution of it must cure it:
	novelty is only in request; and it is as dangerous
	to be aged in any kind of course, as it is virtuous
	to be constant in any undertaking. There is scarce
	truth enough alive to make societies secure; but
	security enough to make fellowships accurst: much
	upon this riddle runs the wisdom of the world. This
	news is old enough, yet it is every day's news. I
	pray you, sir, of what disposition was the duke?

ESCALUS	One that, above all other strifes, contended
	especially to know himself.

DUKE VINCENTIO	What pleasure was he given to?

ESCALUS	Rather rejoicing to see another merry, than merry at
	any thing which professed to make him rejoice: a
	gentleman of all temperance. But leave we him to
	his events, with a prayer they may prove prosperous;
	and let me desire to know how you find Claudio
	prepared. I am made to understand that you have
	lent him visitation.

DUKE VINCENTIO	He professes to have received no sinister measure
	from his judge, but most willingly humbles himself
	to the determination of justice: yet had he framed
	to himself, by the instruction of his frailty, many
	deceiving promises of life; which I by my good
	leisure have discredited to him, and now is he
	resolved to die.

ESCALUS	You have paid the heavens your function, and the
	prisoner the very debt of your calling. I have
	laboured for the poor gentleman to the extremest
	shore of my modesty: but my brother justice have I
	found so severe, that he hath forced me to tell him
	he is indeed Justice.

DUKE VINCENTIO	If his own life answer the straitness of his
	proceeding, it shall become him well; wherein if he
	chance to fail, he hath sentenced himself.

ESCALUS	I am going to visit the prisoner. Fare you well.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Peace be with you!

	[Exeunt ESCALUS and Provost]

	He who the sword of heaven will bear
	Should be as holy as severe;
	Pattern in himself to know,
	Grace to stand, and virtue go;
	More nor less to others paying
	Than by self-offences weighing.
	Shame to him whose cruel striking
	Kills for faults of his own liking!
	Twice treble shame on Angelo,
	To weed my vice and let his grow!
	O, what may man within him hide,
	Though angel on the outward side!
	How may likeness made in crimes,
	Making practise on the times,
	To draw with idle spiders' strings
	Most ponderous and substantial things!
	Craft against vice I must apply:
	With Angelo to-night shall lie
	His old betrothed but despised;
	So disguise shall, by the disguised,
	Pay with falsehood false exacting,
	And perform an old contracting.

	[Exit]




	MEASURE FOR MEASURE


ACT IV


SCENE I	The moated grange at ST. LUKE's.


	[Enter MARIANA and a Boy]

	[Boy sings]

	Take, O, take those lips away,
	That so sweetly were forsworn;
	And those eyes, the break of day,
	Lights that do mislead the morn:
	But my kisses bring again, bring again;
	Seals of love, but sealed in vain, sealed in vain.

MARIANA	Break off thy song, and haste thee quick away:
	Here comes a man of comfort, whose advice
	Hath often still'd my brawling discontent.

	[Exit Boy]

	[Enter DUKE VINCENTIO disguised as before]

	I cry you mercy, sir; and well could wish
	You had not found me here so musical:
	Let me excuse me, and believe me so,
	My mirth it much displeased, but pleased my woe.

DUKE VINCENTIO	'Tis good; though music oft hath such a charm
	To make bad good, and good provoke to harm.
	I pray, you, tell me, hath any body inquired
	for me here to-day? much upon this time have
	I promised here to meet.

MARIANA	You have not been inquired after:
	I have sat here all day.

	[Enter ISABELLA]

DUKE VINCENTIO	I do constantly believe you. The time is come even
	now. I shall crave your forbearance a little: may
	be I will call upon you anon, for some advantage to yourself.

MARIANA	I am always bound to you.

	[Exit]

DUKE VINCENTIO	Very well met, and well come.
	What is the news from this good deputy?

ISABELLA	He hath a garden circummured with brick,
	Whose western side is with a vineyard back'd;
	And to that vineyard is a planched gate,
	That makes his opening with this bigger key:
	This other doth command a little door
	Which from the vineyard to the garden leads;
	There have I made my promise
	Upon the heavy middle of the night
	To call upon him.

DUKE VINCENTIO	But shall you on your knowledge find this way?

ISABELLA	I have ta'en a due and wary note upon't:
	With whispering and most guilty diligence,
	In action all of precept, he did show me
	The way twice o'er.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Are there no other tokens
	Between you 'greed concerning her observance?

ISABELLA	No, none, but only a repair i' the dark;
	And that I have possess'd him my most stay
	Can be but brief; for I have made him know
	I have a servant comes with me along,
	That stays upon me, whose persuasion is
	I come about my brother.

DUKE VINCENTIO	'Tis well borne up.
	I have not yet made known to Mariana
	A word of this. What, ho! within! come forth!

	[Re-enter MARIANA]

	I pray you, be acquainted with this maid;
	She comes to do you good.

ISABELLA	I do desire the like.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Do you persuade yourself that I respect you?

MARIANA	Good friar, I know you do, and have found it.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Take, then, this your companion by the hand,
	Who hath a story ready for your ear.
	I shall attend your leisure: but make haste;
	The vaporous night approaches.

MARIANA	Will't please you walk aside?

	[Exeunt MARIANA and ISABELLA]

DUKE VINCENTIO	O place and greatness! millions of false eyes
	Are stuck upon thee: volumes of report
	Run with these false and most contrarious quests
	Upon thy doings: thousand escapes of wit
	Make thee the father of their idle dreams
	And rack thee in their fancies.

	[Re-enter MARIANA and ISABELLA]

		          Welcome, how agreed?

ISABELLA	She'll take the enterprise upon her, father,
	If you advise it.

DUKE VINCENTIO	                  It is not my consent,
	But my entreaty too.

ISABELLA	Little have you to say
	When you depart from him, but, soft and low,
	'Remember now my brother.'

MARIANA	Fear me not.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Nor, gentle daughter, fear you not at all.
	He is your husband on a pre-contract:
	To bring you thus together, 'tis no sin,
	Sith that the justice of your title to him
	Doth flourish the deceit. Come, let us go:
	Our corn's to reap, for yet our tithe's to sow.

	[Exeunt]




	MEASURE FOR MEASURE


ACT IV


SCENE II	A room in the prison.


	[Enter Provost and POMPEY]

Provost	Come hither, sirrah. Can you cut off a man's head?

POMPEY	If the man be a bachelor, sir, I can; but if he be a
	married man, he's his wife's head, and I can never
	cut off a woman's head.

Provost	Come, sir, leave me your snatches, and yield me a
	direct answer. To-morrow morning are to die Claudio
	and Barnardine. Here is in our prison a common
	executioner, who in his office lacks a helper: if
	you will take it on you to assist him, it shall
	redeem you from your gyves; if not, you shall have
	your full time of imprisonment and your deliverance
	with an unpitied whipping, for you have been a
	notorious bawd.

POMPEY	Sir, I have been an unlawful bawd time out of mind;
	but yet I will be content to be a lawful hangman. I
	would be glad to receive some instruction from my
	fellow partner.

Provost	What, ho! Abhorson! Where's Abhorson, there?

	[Enter ABHORSON]

ABHORSON	Do you call, sir?

Provost	Sirrah, here's a fellow will help you to-morrow in
	your execution. If you think it meet, compound with
	him by the year, and let him abide here with you; if
	not, use him for the present and dismiss him. He
	cannot plead his estimation with you; he hath been a bawd.

ABHORSON	A bawd, sir? fie upon him! he will discredit our mystery.

Provost	Go to, sir; you weigh equally; a feather will turn
	the scale.

	[Exit]

POMPEY	Pray, sir, by your good favour,--for surely, sir, a
	good favour you have, but that you have a hanging
	look,--do you call, sir, your occupation a mystery?

ABHORSON	Ay, sir; a mystery

POMPEY	Painting, sir, I have heard say, is a mystery; and
	your whores, sir, being members of my occupation,
	using painting, do prove my occupation a mystery:
	but what mystery there should be in hanging, if I
	should be hanged, I cannot imagine.

ABHORSON	Sir, it is a mystery.

POMPEY	Proof?

ABHORSON	Every true man's apparel fits your thief: if it be
	too little for your thief, your true man thinks it
	big enough; if it be too big for your thief, your
	thief thinks it little enough: so every true man's
	apparel fits your thief.

	[Re-enter Provost]

Provost	Are you agreed?

POMPEY	Sir, I will serve him; for I do find your hangman is
	a more penitent trade than your bawd; he doth
	oftener ask forgiveness.

Provost	You, sirrah, provide your block and your axe
	to-morrow four o'clock.

ABHORSON	Come on, bawd; I will instruct thee in my trade; follow.

POMPEY	I do desire to learn, sir: and I hope, if you have
	occasion to use me for your own turn, you shall find
	me yare; for truly, sir, for your kindness I owe you
	a good turn.

Provost	Call hither Barnardine and Claudio:

	[Exeunt POMPEY and ABHORSON]

	The one has my pity; not a jot the other,
	Being a murderer, though he were my brother.

	[Enter CLAUDIO]

	Look, here's the warrant, Claudio, for thy death:
	'Tis now dead midnight, and by eight to-morrow
	Thou must be made immortal. Where's Barnardine?

CLAUDIO	As fast lock'd up in sleep as guiltless labour
	When it lies starkly in the traveller's bones:
	He will not wake.

Provost	                  Who can do good on him?
	Well, go, prepare yourself.

	[Knocking within]

		      But, hark, what noise?
	Heaven give your spirits comfort!

	[Exit CLAUDIO]

		                  By and by.
	I hope it is some pardon or reprieve
	For the most gentle Claudio.

	[Enter DUKE VINCENTIO disguised as before]

		       Welcome father.

DUKE VINCENTIO	The best and wholesomest spirts of the night
	Envelope you, good Provost! Who call'd here of late?

Provost	None, since the curfew rung.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Not Isabel?

Provost	          No.

DUKE VINCENTIO	                  They will, then, ere't be long.

Provost	What comfort is for Claudio?

DUKE VINCENTIO	There's some in hope.

Provost	It is a bitter deputy.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Not so, not so; his life is parallel'd
	Even with the stroke and line of his great justice:
	He doth with holy abstinence subdue
	That in himself which he spurs on his power
	To qualify in others: were he meal'd with that
	Which he corrects, then were he tyrannous;
	But this being so, he's just.

	[Knocking within]

		        Now are they come.

	[Exit Provost]

	This is a gentle provost: seldom when
	The steeled gaoler is the friend of men.

	[Knocking within]

	How now! what noise? That spirit's possessed with haste
	That wounds the unsisting postern with these strokes.

	[Re-enter Provost]

Provost	There he must stay until the officer
	Arise to let him in: he is call'd up.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Have you no countermand for Claudio yet,
	But he must die to-morrow?

Provost	None, sir, none.

DUKE VINCENTIO	As near the dawning, provost, as it is,
	You shall hear more ere morning.

Provost	Happily
	You something know; yet I believe there comes
	No countermand; no such example have we:
	Besides, upon the very siege of justice
	Lord Angelo hath to the public ear
	Profess'd the contrary.

	[Enter a Messenger]

		  This is his lordship's man.

DUKE VINCENTIO	And here comes Claudio's pardon.

Messenger	[Giving a paper]

	My lord hath sent you this note; and by me this
	further charge, that you swerve not from the
	smallest article of it, neither in time, matter, or
	other circumstance. Good morrow; for, as I take it,
	it is almost day.

Provost	I shall obey him.

	[Exit Messenger]

DUKE VINCENTIO	[Aside]  This is his pardon, purchased by such sin
	For which the pardoner himself is in.
	Hence hath offence his quick celerity,
	When it is born in high authority:
	When vice makes mercy, mercy's so extended,
	That for the fault's love is the offender friended.
	Now, sir, what news?

Provost	I told you. Lord Angelo, belike thinking me remiss
	in mine office, awakens me with this unwonted
	putting-on; methinks strangely, for he hath not used it before.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Pray you, let's hear.

Provost	[Reads]

	'Whatsoever you may hear to the contrary, let
	Claudio be executed by four of the clock; and in the
	afternoon Barnardine: for my better satisfaction,
	let me have Claudio's head sent me by five. Let
	this be duly performed; with a thought that more
	depends on it than we must yet deliver. Thus fail
	not to do your office, as you will answer it at your peril.'
	What say you to this, sir?

DUKE VINCENTIO	What is that Barnardine who is to be executed in the
	afternoon?

Provost	A Bohemian born, but here nursed un and bred; one
	that is a prisoner nine years old.

DUKE VINCENTIO	How came it that the absent duke had not either
	delivered him to his liberty or executed him? I
	have heard it was ever his manner to do so.

Provost	His friends still wrought reprieves for him: and,
	indeed, his fact, till now in the government of Lord
	Angelo, came not to an undoubtful proof.

DUKE VINCENTIO	It is now apparent?

Provost	Most manifest, and not denied by himself.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Hath he born himself penitently in prison? how
	seems he to be touched?

Provost	A man that apprehends death no more dreadfully but
	as a drunken sleep; careless, reckless, and fearless
	of what's past, present, or to come; insensible of
	mortality, and desperately mortal.

DUKE VINCENTIO	He wants advice.

Provost	He will hear none: he hath evermore had the liberty
	of the prison; give him leave to escape hence, he
	would not: drunk many times a day, if not many days
	entirely drunk. We have very oft awaked him, as if
	to carry him to execution, and showed him a seeming
	warrant for it: it hath not moved him at all.

DUKE VINCENTIO	More of him anon. There is written in your brow,
	provost, honesty and constancy: if I read it not
	truly, my ancient skill beguiles me; but, in the
	boldness of my cunning, I will lay myself in hazard.
	Claudio, whom here you have warrant to execute, is
	no greater forfeit to the law than Angelo who hath
	sentenced him. To make you understand this in a
	manifested effect, I crave but four days' respite;
	for the which you are to do me both a present and a
	dangerous courtesy.

Provost	Pray, sir, in what?

DUKE VINCENTIO	In the delaying death.

Provost	A lack, how may I do it, having the hour limited,
	and an express command, under penalty, to deliver
	his head in the view of Angelo? I may make my case
	as Claudio's, to cross this in the smallest.

DUKE VINCENTIO	By the vow of mine order I warrant you, if my
	instructions may be your guide. Let this Barnardine
	be this morning executed, and his head born to Angelo.

Provost	Angelo hath seen them both, and will discover the favour.

DUKE VINCENTIO	O, death's a great disguiser; and you may add to it.
	Shave the head, and tie the beard; and say it was
	the desire of the penitent to be so bared before his
	death: you know the course is common. If any thing
	fall to you upon this, more than thanks and good
	fortune, by the saint whom I profess, I will plead
	against it with my life.

Provost	Pardon me, good father; it is against my oath.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Were you sworn to the duke, or to the deputy?

Provost	To him, and to his substitutes.

DUKE VINCENTIO	You will think you have made no offence, if the duke
	avouch the justice of your dealing?

Provost	But what likelihood is in that?

DUKE VINCENTIO	Not a resemblance, but a certainty. Yet since I see
	you fearful, that neither my coat, integrity, nor
	persuasion can with ease attempt you, I will go
	further than I meant, to pluck all fears out of you.
	Look you, sir, here is the hand and seal of the
	duke: you know the character, I doubt not; and the
	signet is not strange to you.

Provost	I know them both.

DUKE VINCENTIO	The contents of this is the return of the duke: you
	shall anon over-read it at your pleasure; where you
	shall find, within these two days he will be here.
	This is a thing that Angelo knows not; for he this
	very day receives letters of strange tenor;
	perchance of the duke's death; perchance entering
	into some monastery; but, by chance, nothing of what
	is writ. Look, the unfolding star calls up the
	shepherd. Put not yourself into amazement how these
	things should be: all difficulties are but easy
	when they are known. Call your executioner, and off
	with Barnardine's head: I will give him a present
	shrift and advise him for a better place. Yet you
	are amazed; but this shall absolutely resolve you.
	Come away; it is almost clear dawn.

	[Exeunt]




	MEASURE FOR MEASURE


ACT IV


SCENE III	Another room in the same.


	[Enter POMPEY]

POMPEY	I am as well acquainted here as I was in our house
	of profession: one would think it were Mistress
	Overdone's own house, for here be many of her old
	customers. First, here's young Master Rash; he's in
	for a commodity of brown paper and old ginger,
	ninescore and seventeen pounds; of which he made
	five marks, ready money: marry, then ginger was not
	much in request, for the old women were all dead.
	Then is there here one Master Caper, at the suit of
	Master Three-pile the mercer, for some four suits of
	peach-coloured satin, which now peaches him a
	beggar. Then have we here young Dizy, and young
	Master Deep-vow, and Master Copperspur, and Master
	Starve-lackey the rapier and dagger man, and young
	Drop-heir that killed lusty Pudding, and Master
	Forthlight the tilter, and brave Master Shooty the
	great traveller, and wild Half-can that stabbed
	Pots, and, I think, forty more; all great doers in
	our trade, and are now 'for the Lord's sake.'

	[Enter ABHORSON]

ABHORSON	Sirrah, bring Barnardine hither.

POMPEY	Master Barnardine! you must rise and be hanged.
	Master Barnardine!

ABHORSON	What, ho, Barnardine!

BARNARDINE	[Within]  A pox o' your throats! Who makes that
	noise there? What are you?

POMPEY	Your friends, sir; the hangman. You must be so
	good, sir, to rise and be put to death.

BARNARDINE	[Within]  Away, you rogue, away! I am sleepy.

ABHORSON	Tell him he must awake, and that quickly too.

POMPEY	Pray, Master Barnardine, awake till you are
	executed, and sleep afterwards.

ABHORSON	Go in to him, and fetch him out.

POMPEY	He is coming, sir, he is coming; I hear his straw rustle.

ABHORSON	Is the axe upon the block, sirrah?

POMPEY	Very ready, sir.

	[Enter BARNARDINE]

BARNARDINE	How now, Abhorson? what's the news with you?

ABHORSON	Truly, sir, I would desire you to clap into your
	prayers; for, look you, the warrant's come.

BARNARDINE	You rogue, I have been drinking all night; I am not
	fitted for 't.

POMPEY	O, the better, sir; for he that drinks all night,
	and is hanged betimes in the morning, may sleep the
	sounder all the next day.

ABHORSON	Look you, sir; here comes your ghostly father: do
	we jest now, think you?

	[Enter DUKE VINCENTIO disguised as before]

DUKE VINCENTIO	Sir, induced by my charity, and hearing how hastily
	you are to depart, I am come to advise you, comfort
	you and pray with you.

BARNARDINE	Friar, not I	I have been drinking hard all night,
	and I will have more time to prepare me, or they
	shall beat out my brains with billets: I will not
	consent to die this day, that's certain.

DUKE VINCENTIO	O, sir, you must: and therefore I beseech you
	Look forward on the journey you shall go.

BARNARDINE	I swear I will not die to-day for any man's
	persuasion.

DUKE VINCENTIO	But hear you.

BARNARDINE	Not a word: if you have any thing to say to me,
	come to my ward; for thence will not I to-day.

	[Exit]

DUKE VINCENTIO	Unfit to live or die: O gravel heart!
	After him, fellows; bring him to the block.

	[Exeunt ABHORSON and POMPEY]

	[Re-enter Provost]

Provost	Now, sir, how do you find the prisoner?

DUKE VINCENTIO	A creature unprepared, unmeet for death;
	And to transport him in the mind he is
	Were damnable.

Provost	                  Here in the prison, father,
	There died this morning of a cruel fever
	One Ragozine, a most notorious pirate,
	A man of Claudio's years; his beard and head
	Just of his colour. What if we do omit
	This reprobate till he were well inclined;
	And satisfy the deputy with the visage
	Of Ragozine, more like to Claudio?

DUKE VINCENTIO	O, 'tis an accident that heaven provides!
	Dispatch it presently; the hour draws on
	Prefix'd by Angelo: see this be done,
	And sent according to command; whiles I
	Persuade this rude wretch willingly to die.

Provost	This shall be done, good father, presently.
	But Barnardine must die this afternoon:
	And how shall we continue Claudio,
	To save me from the danger that might come
	If he were known alive?

DUKE VINCENTIO	Let this be done.
	Put them in secret holds, both Barnardine and Claudio:
	Ere twice the sun hath made his journal greeting
	To the under generation, you shall find
	Your safety manifested.

Provost	I am your free dependant.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Quick, dispatch, and send the head to Angelo.

	[Exit Provost]

	Now will I write letters to Angelo,--
	The provost, he shall bear them, whose contents
	Shall witness to him I am near at home,
	And that, by great injunctions, I am bound
	To enter publicly: him I'll desire
	To meet me at the consecrated fount
	A league below the city; and from thence,
	By cold gradation and well-balanced form,
	We shall proceed with Angelo.

	[Re-enter Provost]

Provost	Here is the head; I'll carry it myself.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Convenient is it. Make a swift return;
	For I would commune with you of such things
	That want no ear but yours.

Provost	I'll make all speed.

	[Exit]

ISABELLA	[Within]  Peace, ho, be here!

DUKE VINCENTIO	The tongue of Isabel. She's come to know
	If yet her brother's pardon be come hither:
	But I will keep her ignorant of her good,
	To make her heavenly comforts of despair,
	When it is least expected.

	[Enter ISABELLA]

ISABELLA	Ho, by your leave!

DUKE VINCENTIO	Good morning to you, fair and gracious daughter.

ISABELLA	The better, given me by so holy a man.
	Hath yet the deputy sent my brother's pardon?

DUKE VINCENTIO	He hath released him, Isabel, from the world:
	His head is off and sent to Angelo.

ISABELLA	Nay, but it is not so.

DUKE VINCENTIO	It is no other: show your wisdom, daughter,
	In your close patience.

ISABELLA	O, I will to him and pluck out his eyes!

DUKE VINCENTIO	You shall not be admitted to his sight.

ISABELLA	Unhappy Claudio! wretched Isabel!
	Injurious world! most damned Angelo!

DUKE VINCENTIO	This nor hurts him nor profits you a jot;
	Forbear it therefore; give your cause to heaven.
	Mark what I say, which you shall find
	By every syllable a faithful verity:
	The duke comes home to-morrow; nay, dry your eyes;
	One of our convent, and his confessor,
	Gives me this instance: already he hath carried
	Notice to Escalus and Angelo,
	Who do prepare to meet him at the gates,
	There to give up their power. If you can, pace your wisdom
	In that good path that I would wish it go,
	And you shall have your bosom on this wretch,
	Grace of the duke, revenges to your heart,
	And general honour.

ISABELLA	                  I am directed by you.

DUKE VINCENTIO	This letter, then, to Friar Peter give;
	'Tis that he sent me of the duke's return:
	Say, by this token, I desire his company
	At Mariana's house to-night. Her cause and yours
	I'll perfect him withal, and he shall bring you
	Before the duke, and to the head of Angelo
	Accuse him home and home. For my poor self,
	I am combined by a sacred vow
	And shall be absent. Wend you with this letter:
	Command these fretting waters from your eyes
	With a light heart; trust not my holy order,
	If I pervert your course. Who's here?

	[Enter LUCIO]

LUCIO	Good even. Friar, where's the provost?

DUKE VINCENTIO	Not within, sir.

LUCIO	O pretty Isabella, I am pale at mine heart to see
	thine eyes so red: thou must be patient. I am fain
	to dine and sup with water and bran; I dare not for
	my head fill my belly; one fruitful meal would set
	me to 't. But they say the duke will be here
	to-morrow. By my troth, Isabel, I loved thy brother:
	if the old fantastical duke of dark corners had been
	at home, he had lived.

	[Exit ISABELLA]

DUKE VINCENTIO	Sir, the duke is marvellous little beholding to your
	reports; but the best is, he lives not in them.

LUCIO	Friar, thou knowest not the duke so well as I do:
	he's a better woodman than thou takest him for.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Well, you'll answer this one day. Fare ye well.

LUCIO	Nay, tarry; I'll go along with thee
	I can tell thee pretty tales of the duke.

DUKE VINCENTIO	You have told me too many of him already, sir, if
	they be true; if not true, none were enough.

LUCIO	I was once before him for getting a wench with child.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Did you such a thing?

LUCIO	Yes, marry, did I	but I was fain to forswear it;
	they would else have married me to the rotten medlar.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Sir, your company is fairer than honest. Rest you well.

LUCIO	By my troth, I'll go with thee to the lane's end:
	if bawdy talk offend you, we'll have very little of
	it. Nay, friar, I am a kind of burr; I shall stick.

	[Exeunt]




	MEASURE FOR MEASURE


ACT IV


SCENE IV	A room in ANGELO's house.


	[Enter ANGELO and ESCALUS]

ESCALUS	Every letter he hath writ hath disvouched other.

ANGELO	In most uneven and distracted manner. His actions
	show much like to madness: pray heaven his wisdom be
	not tainted! And why meet him at the gates, and
	redeliver our authorities there

ESCALUS	I guess not.

ANGELO	And why should we proclaim it in an hour before his
	entering, that if any crave redress of injustice,
	they should exhibit their petitions in the street?

ESCALUS	He shows his reason for that: to have a dispatch of
	complaints, and to deliver us from devices
	hereafter, which shall then have no power to stand
	against us.

ANGELO	Well, I beseech you, let it be proclaimed betimes
	i' the morn; I'll call you at your house: give
	notice to such men of sort and suit as are to meet
	him.

ESCALUS	I shall, sir. Fare you well.

ANGELO	Good night.

	[Exit ESCALUS]

	This deed unshapes me quite, makes me unpregnant
	And dull to all proceedings. A deflower'd maid!
	And by an eminent body that enforced
	The law against it! But that her tender shame
	Will not proclaim against her maiden loss,
	How might she tongue me! Yet reason dares her no;
	For my authority bears of a credent bulk,
	That no particular scandal once can touch
	But it confounds the breather. He should have lived,
	Save that riotous youth, with dangerous sense,
	Might in the times to come have ta'en revenge,
	By so receiving a dishonour'd life
	With ransom of such shame. Would yet he had lived!
	A lack, when once our grace we have forgot,
	Nothing goes right: we would, and we would not.

	[Exit]




	MEASURE FOR MEASURE


ACT IV


SCENE V	Fields without the town.


	[Enter DUKE VINCENTIO in his own habit, and FRIAR PETER]

DUKE VINCENTIO	These letters at fit time deliver me

	[Giving letters]

	The provost knows our purpose and our plot.
	The matter being afoot, keep your instruction,
	And hold you ever to our special drift;
	Though sometimes you do blench from this to that,
	As cause doth minister. Go call at Flavius' house,
	And tell him where I stay: give the like notice
	To Valentinus, Rowland, and to Crassus,
	And bid them bring the trumpets to the gate;
	But send me Flavius first.

FRIAR PETER	It shall be speeded well.

	[Exit]

	[Enter VARRIUS]

DUKE VINCENTIO	I thank thee, Varrius; thou hast made good haste:
	Come, we will walk. There's other of our friends
	Will greet us here anon, my gentle Varrius.

	[Exeunt]




	MEASURE FOR MEASURE


ACT IV


SCENE VI	Street near the city gate.


	[Enter ISABELLA and MARIANA]

ISABELLA	To speak so indirectly I am loath:
	I would say the truth; but to accuse him so,
	That is your part: yet I am advised to do it;
	He says, to veil full purpose.

MARIANA	Be ruled by him.

ISABELLA	Besides, he tells me that, if peradventure
	He speak against me on the adverse side,
	I should not think it strange; for 'tis a physic
	That's bitter to sweet end.

MARIANA	I would Friar Peter--

ISABELLA	O, peace! the friar is come.

	[Enter FRIAR PETER]

FRIAR PETER	Come, I have found you out a stand most fit,
	Where you may have such vantage on the duke,
	He shall not pass you. Twice have the trumpets sounded;
	The generous and gravest citizens
	Have hent the gates, and very near upon
	The duke is entering: therefore, hence, away!

	[Exeunt]




	MEASURE FOR MEASURE


ACT V


SCENE I	The city gate.


	[MARIANA veiled, ISABELLA, and FRIAR PETER, at their
	stand. Enter DUKE VINCENTIO, VARRIUS, Lords,
	ANGELO, ESCALUS, LUCIO, Provost, Officers, and
	Citizens, at several doors]

DUKE VINCENTIO	My very worthy cousin, fairly met!
	Our old and faithful friend, we are glad to see you.


ANGELO	|
	|  Happy return be to your royal grace!
ESCALUS	|


DUKE VINCENTIO	Many and hearty thankings to you both.
	We have made inquiry of you; and we hear
	Such goodness of your justice, that our soul
	Cannot but yield you forth to public thanks,
	Forerunning more requital.

ANGELO	You make my bonds still greater.

DUKE VINCENTIO	O, your desert speaks loud; and I should wrong it,
	To lock it in the wards of covert bosom,
	When it deserves, with characters of brass,
	A forted residence 'gainst the tooth of time
	And razure of oblivion. Give me your hand,
	And let the subject see, to make them know
	That outward courtesies would fain proclaim
	Favours that keep within. Come, Escalus,
	You must walk by us on our other hand;
	And good supporters are you.

	[FRIAR PETER and ISABELLA come forward]

FRIAR PETER	Now is your time: speak loud and kneel before him.

ISABELLA	Justice, O royal duke! Vail your regard
	Upon a wrong'd, I would fain have said, a maid!
	O worthy prince, dishonour not your eye
	By throwing it on any other object
	Till you have heard me in my true complaint
	And given me justice, justice, justice, justice!

DUKE VINCENTIO	Relate your wrongs; in what? by whom? be brief.
	Here is Lord Angelo shall give you justice:
	Reveal yourself to him.

ISABELLA	O worthy duke,
	You bid me seek redemption of the devil:
	Hear me yourself; for that which I must speak
	Must either punish me, not being believed,
	Or wring redress from you. Hear me, O hear me, here!

ANGELO	My lord, her wits, I fear me, are not firm:
	She hath been a suitor to me for her brother
	Cut off by course of justice,--

ISABELLA	By course of justice!

ANGELO	And she will speak most bitterly and strange.

ISABELLA	Most strange, but yet most truly, will I speak:
	That Angelo's forsworn; is it not strange?
	That Angelo's a murderer; is 't not strange?
	That Angelo is an adulterous thief,
	An hypocrite, a virgin-violator;
	Is it not strange and strange?

DUKE VINCENTIO	Nay, it is ten times strange.

ISABELLA	It is not truer he is Angelo
	Than this is all as true as it is strange:
	Nay, it is ten times true; for truth is truth
	To the end of reckoning.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Away with her! Poor soul,
	She speaks this in the infirmity of sense.

ISABELLA	O prince, I conjure thee, as thou believest
	There is another comfort than this world,
	That thou neglect me not, with that opinion
	That I am touch'd with madness! Make not impossible
	That which but seems unlike: 'tis not impossible
	But one, the wicked'st caitiff on the ground,
	May seem as shy, as grave, as just, as absolute
	As Angelo; even so may Angelo,
	In all his dressings, characts, titles, forms,
	Be an arch-villain; believe it, royal prince:
	If he be less, he's nothing; but he's more,
	Had I more name for badness.

DUKE VINCENTIO	By mine honesty,
	If she be mad,--as I believe no other,--
	Her madness hath the oddest frame of sense,
	Such a dependency of thing on thing,
	As e'er I heard in madness.

ISABELLA	O gracious duke,
	Harp not on that, nor do not banish reason
	For inequality; but let your reason serve
	To make the truth appear where it seems hid,
	And hide the false seems true.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Many that are not mad
	Have, sure, more lack of reason. What would you say?

ISABELLA	I am the sister of one Claudio,
	Condemn'd upon the act of fornication
	To lose his head; condemn'd by Angelo:
	I, in probation of a sisterhood,
	Was sent to by my brother; one Lucio
	As then the messenger,--

LUCIO	That's I, an't like your grace:
	I came to her from Claudio, and desired her
	To try her gracious fortune with Lord Angelo
	For her poor brother's pardon.

ISABELLA	That's he indeed.

DUKE VINCENTIO	You were not bid to speak.

LUCIO	No, my good lord;
	Nor wish'd to hold my peace.

DUKE VINCENTIO	I wish you now, then;
	Pray you, take note of it: and when you have
	A business for yourself, pray heaven you then
	Be perfect.

LUCIO	I warrant your honour.

DUKE VINCENTIO	The warrants for yourself; take heed to't.

ISABELLA	This gentleman told somewhat of my tale,--

LUCIO	Right.

DUKE VINCENTIO	It may be right; but you are i' the wrong
	To speak before your time. Proceed.

ISABELLA	I went
	To this pernicious caitiff deputy,--

DUKE VINCENTIO	That's somewhat madly spoken.

ISABELLA	Pardon it;
	The phrase is to the matter.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Mended again. The matter; proceed.

ISABELLA	In brief, to set the needless process by,
	How I persuaded, how I pray'd, and kneel'd,
	How he refell'd me, and how I replied,--
	For this was of much length,--the vile conclusion
	I now begin with grief and shame to utter:
	He would not, but by gift of my chaste body
	To his concupiscible intemperate lust,
	Release my brother; and, after much debatement,
	My sisterly remorse confutes mine honour,
	And I did yield to him: but the next morn betimes,
	His purpose surfeiting, he sends a warrant
	For my poor brother's head.

DUKE VINCENTIO	This is most likely!

ISABELLA	O, that it were as like as it is true!

DUKE VINCENTIO	By heaven, fond wretch, thou knowist not what thou speak'st,
	Or else thou art suborn'd against his honour
	In hateful practise. First, his integrity
	Stands without blemish. Next, it imports no reason
	That with such vehemency he should pursue
	Faults proper to himself: if he had so offended,
	He would have weigh'd thy brother by himself
	And not have cut him off. Some one hath set you on:
	Confess the truth, and say by whose advice
	Thou camest here to complain.

ISABELLA	And is this all?
	Then, O you blessed ministers above,
	Keep me in patience, and with ripen'd time
	Unfold the evil which is here wrapt up
	In countenance! Heaven shield your grace from woe,
	As I, thus wrong'd, hence unbelieved go!

DUKE VINCENTIO	I know you'ld fain be gone. An officer!
	To prison with her! Shall we thus permit
	A blasting and a scandalous breath to fall
	On him so near us? This needs must be a practise.
	Who knew of Your intent and coming hither?

ISABELLA	One that I would were here, Friar Lodowick.

DUKE VINCENTIO	A ghostly father, belike. Who knows that Lodowick?

LUCIO	My lord, I know him; 'tis a meddling friar;
	I do not like the man: had he been lay, my lord
	For certain words he spake against your grace
	In your retirement, I had swinged him soundly.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Words against me? this is a good friar, belike!
	And to set on this wretched woman here
	Against our substitute! Let this friar be found.

LUCIO	But yesternight, my lord, she and that friar,
	I saw them at the prison: a saucy friar,
	A very scurvy fellow.

FRIAR PETER	Blessed be your royal grace!
	I have stood by, my lord, and I have heard
	Your royal ear abused. First, hath this woman
	Most wrongfully accused your substitute,
	Who is as free from touch or soil with her
	As she from one ungot.

DUKE VINCENTIO	We did believe no less.
	Know you that Friar Lodowick that she speaks of?

FRIAR PETER	I know him for a man divine and holy;
	Not scurvy, nor a temporary meddler,
	As he's reported by this gentleman;
	And, on my trust, a man that never yet
	Did, as he vouches, misreport your grace.

LUCIO	My lord, most villanously; believe it.

FRIAR PETER	Well, he in time may come to clear himself;
	But at this instant he is sick my lord,
	Of a strange fever. Upon his mere request,
	Being come to knowledge that there was complaint
	Intended 'gainst Lord Angelo, came I hither,
	To speak, as from his mouth, what he doth know
	Is true and false; and what he with his oath
	And all probation will make up full clear,
	Whensoever he's convented. First, for this woman.
	To justify this worthy nobleman,
	So vulgarly and personally accused,
	Her shall you hear disproved to her eyes,
	Till she herself confess it.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Good friar, let's hear it.

	[ISABELLA is carried off guarded; and MARIANA comes forward]

	Do you not smile at this, Lord Angelo?
	O heaven, the vanity of wretched fools!
	Give us some seats. Come, cousin Angelo;
	In this I'll be impartial; be you judge
	Of your own cause. Is this the witness, friar?
	First, let her show her face, and after speak.

MARIANA	Pardon, my lord; I will not show my face
	Until my husband bid me.

DUKE VINCENTIO	What, are you married?

MARIANA	No, my lord.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Are you a maid?

MARIANA	No, my lord.

DUKE VINCENTIO	A widow, then?

MARIANA	Neither, my lord.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Why, you are nothing then: neither maid, widow, nor wife?

LUCIO	My lord, she may be a punk; for many of them are
	neither maid, widow, nor wife.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Silence that fellow: I would he had some cause
	To prattle for himself.

LUCIO	Well, my lord.

MARIANA	My lord; I do confess I ne'er was married;
	And I confess besides I am no maid:
	I have known my husband; yet my husband
	Knows not that ever he knew me.

LUCIO	He was drunk then, my lord: it can be no better.

DUKE VINCENTIO	For the benefit of silence, would thou wert so too!

LUCIO	Well, my lord.

DUKE VINCENTIO	This is no witness for Lord Angelo.

MARIANA	Now I come to't my lord
	She that accuses him of fornication,
	In self-same manner doth accuse my husband,
	And charges him my lord, with such a time
	When I'll depose I had him in mine arms
	With all the effect of love.

ANGELO	Charges she more than me?

MARIANA	Not that I know.

DUKE VINCENTIO	No? you say your husband.

MARIANA	Why, just, my lord, and that is Angelo,
	Who thinks he knows that he ne'er knew my body,
	But knows he thinks that he knows Isabel's.

ANGELO	This is a strange abuse. Let's see thy face.

MARIANA	My husband bids me; now I will unmask.

	[Unveiling]

	This is that face, thou cruel Angelo,
	Which once thou sworest was worth the looking on;
	This is the hand which, with a vow'd contract,
	Was fast belock'd in thine; this is the body
	That took away the match from Isabel,
	And did supply thee at thy garden-house
	In her imagined person.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Know you this woman?

LUCIO	Carnally, she says.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Sirrah, no more!

LUCIO	Enough, my lord.

ANGELO	My lord, I must confess I know this woman:
	And five years since there was some speech of marriage
	Betwixt myself and her; which was broke off,
	Partly for that her promised proportions
	Came short of composition, but in chief
	For that her reputation was disvalued
	In levity: since which time of five years
	I never spake with her, saw her, nor heard from her,
	Upon my faith and honour.

MARIANA	Noble prince,
	As there comes light from heaven and words from breath,
	As there is sense in truth and truth in virtue,
	I am affianced this man's wife as strongly
	As words could make up vows: and, my good lord,
	But Tuesday night last gone in's garden-house
	He knew me as a wife. As this is true,
	Let me in safety raise me from my knees
	Or else for ever be confixed here,
	A marble monument!

ANGELO	                  I did but smile till now:
	Now, good my lord, give me the scope of justice
	My patience here is touch'd. I do perceive
	These poor informal women are no more
	But instruments of some more mightier member
	That sets them on: let me have way, my lord,
	To find this practise out.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Ay, with my heart
	And punish them to your height of pleasure.
	Thou foolish friar, and thou pernicious woman,
	Compact with her that's gone, think'st thou thy oaths,
	Though they would swear down each particular saint,
	Were testimonies against his worth and credit
	That's seal'd in approbation? You, Lord Escalus,
	Sit with my cousin; lend him your kind pains
	To find out this abuse, whence 'tis derived.
	There is another friar that set them on;
	Let him be sent for.

FRIAR PETER	Would he were here, my lord! for he indeed
	Hath set the women on to this complaint:
	Your provost knows the place where he abides
	And he may fetch him.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Go do it instantly.

	[Exit Provost]

	And you, my noble and well-warranted cousin,
	Whom it concerns to hear this matter forth,
	Do with your injuries as seems you best,
	In any chastisement: I for a while will leave you;
	But stir not you till you have well determined
	Upon these slanderers.

ESCALUS	My lord, we'll do it throughly.

	[Exit DUKE]

	Signior Lucio, did not you say you knew that
	Friar Lodowick to be a dishonest person?

LUCIO	'Cucullus non facit monachum:' honest in nothing
	but in his clothes; and one that hath spoke most
	villanous speeches of the duke.

ESCALUS	We shall entreat you to abide here till he come and
	enforce them against him: we shall find this friar a
	notable fellow.

LUCIO	As any in Vienna, on my word.

ESCALUS	Call that same Isabel here once again; I would speak with her.

	[Exit an Attendant]

	Pray you, my lord, give me leave to question; you
	shall see how I'll handle her.

LUCIO	Not better than he, by her own report.

ESCALUS	Say you?

LUCIO	Marry, sir, I think, if you handled her privately,
	she would sooner confess: perchance, publicly,
	she'll be ashamed.

ESCALUS	I will go darkly to work with her.

LUCIO	That's the way; for women are light at midnight.

	[Re-enter Officers with ISABELLA; and Provost with
	the DUKE VINCENTIO in his friar's habit]

ESCALUS	Come on, mistress: here's a gentlewoman denies all
	that you have said.

LUCIO	My lord, here comes the rascal I spoke of; here with
	the provost.

ESCALUS	In very good time: speak not you to him till we
	call upon you.

LUCIO	Mum.

ESCALUS	Come, sir: did you set these women on to slander
	Lord Angelo? they have confessed you did.

DUKE VINCENTIO	'Tis false.

ESCALUS	How! know you where you are?

DUKE VINCENTIO	Respect to your great place! and let the devil
	Be sometime honour'd for his burning throne!
	Where is the duke? 'tis he should hear me speak.

ESCALUS	The duke's in us; and we will hear you speak:
	Look you speak justly.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Boldly, at least. But, O, poor souls,
	Come you to seek the lamb here of the fox?
	Good night to your redress! Is the duke gone?
	Then is your cause gone too. The duke's unjust,
	Thus to retort your manifest appeal,
	And put your trial in the villain's mouth
	Which here you come to accuse.

LUCIO	This is the rascal; this is he I spoke of.

ESCALUS	Why, thou unreverend and unhallow'd friar,
	Is't not enough thou hast suborn'd these women
	To accuse this worthy man, but, in foul mouth
	And in the witness of his proper ear,
	To call him villain? and then to glance from him
	To the duke himself, to tax him with injustice?
	Take him hence; to the rack with him! We'll touse you
	Joint by joint, but we will know his purpose.
	What 'unjust'!

DUKE VINCENTIO	                  Be not so hot; the duke
	Dare no more stretch this finger of mine than he
	Dare rack his own: his subject am I not,
	Nor here provincial. My business in this state
	Made me a looker on here in Vienna,
	Where I have seen corruption boil and bubble
	Till it o'er-run the stew; laws for all faults,
	But faults so countenanced, that the strong statutes
	Stand like the forfeits in a barber's shop,
	As much in mock as mark.

ESCALUS	Slander to the state! Away with him to prison!

ANGELO	What can you vouch against him, Signior Lucio?
	Is this the man that you did tell us of?

LUCIO	'Tis he, my lord. Come hither, goodman baldpate:
	do you know me?

DUKE VINCENTIO	I remember you, sir, by the sound of your voice: I
	met you at the prison, in the absence of the duke.

LUCIO	O, did you so? And do you remember what you said of the duke?

DUKE VINCENTIO	Most notedly, sir.

LUCIO	Do you so, sir? And was the duke a fleshmonger, a
	fool, and a coward, as you then reported him to be?

DUKE VINCENTIO	You must, sir, change persons with me, ere you make
	that my report: you, indeed, spoke so of him; and
	much more, much worse.

LUCIO	O thou damnable fellow! Did not I pluck thee by the
	nose for thy speeches?

DUKE VINCENTIO	I protest I love the duke as I love myself.

ANGELO	Hark, how the villain would close now, after his
	treasonable abuses!

ESCALUS	Such a fellow is not to be talked withal. Away with
	him to prison! Where is the provost? Away with him
	to prison! lay bolts enough upon him: let him
	speak no more. Away with those giglots too, and
	with the other confederate companion!

DUKE VINCENTIO	[To Provost]  Stay, sir; stay awhile.

ANGELO	What, resists he? Help him, Lucio.

LUCIO	Come, sir; come, sir; come, sir; foh, sir! Why, you
	bald-pated, lying rascal, you must be hooded, must
	you? Show your knave's visage, with a pox to you!
	show your sheep-biting face, and be hanged an hour!
	Will't not off?

	[Pulls off the friar's hood, and discovers DUKE
	VINCENTIO]

DUKE VINCENTIO	Thou art the first knave that e'er madest a duke.
	First, provost, let me bail these gentle three.

	[To LUCIO]

	Sneak not away, sir; for the friar and you
	Must have a word anon. Lay hold on him.

LUCIO	This may prove worse than hanging.

DUKE VINCENTIO	[To ESCALUS]  What you have spoke I pardon: sit you down:
	We'll borrow place of him.

	[To ANGELO]

		     Sir, by your leave.
	Hast thou or word, or wit, or impudence,
	That yet can do thee office? If thou hast,
	Rely upon it till my tale be heard,
	And hold no longer out.

ANGELO	O my dread lord,
	I should be guiltier than my guiltiness,
	To think I can be undiscernible,
	When I perceive your grace, like power divine,
	Hath look'd upon my passes. Then, good prince,
	No longer session hold upon my shame,
	But let my trial be mine own confession:
	Immediate sentence then and sequent death
	Is all the grace I beg.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Come hither, Mariana.
	Say, wast thou e'er contracted to this woman?

ANGELO	I was, my lord.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Go take her hence, and marry her instantly.
	Do you the office, friar; which consummate,
	Return him here again. Go with him, provost.

	[Exeunt ANGELO, MARIANA, FRIAR PETER and Provost]

ESCALUS	My lord, I am more amazed at his dishonour
	Than at the strangeness of it.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Come hither, Isabel.
	Your friar is now your prince: as I was then
	Advertising and holy to your business,
	Not changing heart with habit, I am still
	Attorney'd at your service.

ISABELLA	O, give me pardon,
	That I, your vassal, have employ'd and pain'd
	Your unknown sovereignty!

DUKE VINCENTIO	You are pardon'd, Isabel:
	And now, dear maid, be you as free to us.
	Your brother's death, I know, sits at your heart;
	And you may marvel why I obscured myself,
	Labouring to save his life, and would not rather
	Make rash remonstrance of my hidden power
	Than let him so be lost. O most kind maid,
	It was the swift celerity of his death,
	Which I did think with slower foot came on,
	That brain'd my purpose. But, peace be with him!
	That life is better life, past fearing death,
	Than that which lives to fear: make it your comfort,
	So happy is your brother.

ISABELLA	I do, my lord.

	[Re-enter ANGELO, MARIANA, FRIAR PETER, and Provost]

DUKE VINCENTIO	For this new-married man approaching here,
	Whose salt imagination yet hath wrong'd
	Your well defended honour, you must pardon
	For Mariana's sake: but as he adjudged your brother,--
	Being criminal, in double violation
	Of sacred chastity and of promise-breach
	Thereon dependent, for your brother's life,--
	The very mercy of the law cries out
	Most audible, even from his proper tongue,
	'An Angelo for Claudio, death for death!'
	Haste still pays haste, and leisure answers leisure;
	Like doth quit like, and MEASURE still FOR MEASURE.
	Then, Angelo, thy fault's thus manifested;
	Which, though thou wouldst deny, denies thee vantage.
	We do condemn thee to the very block
	Where Claudio stoop'd to death, and with like haste.
	Away with him!

MARIANA	                  O my most gracious lord,
	I hope you will not mock me with a husband.

DUKE VINCENTIO	It is your husband mock'd you with a husband.
	Consenting to the safeguard of your honour,
	I thought your marriage fit; else imputation,
	For that he knew you, might reproach your life
	And choke your good to come; for his possessions,
	Although by confiscation they are ours,
	We do instate and widow you withal,
	To buy you a better husband.

MARIANA	O my dear lord,
	I crave no other, nor no better man.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Never crave him; we are definitive.

MARIANA	Gentle my liege,--

	[Kneeling]

DUKE VINCENTIO	                  You do but lose your labour.
	Away with him to death!

	[To LUCIO]

		  Now, sir, to you.

MARIANA	O my good lord! Sweet Isabel, take my part;
	Lend me your knees, and all my life to come
	I'll lend you all my life to do you service.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Against all sense you do importune her:
	Should she kneel down in mercy of this fact,
	Her brother's ghost his paved bed would break,
	And take her hence in horror.

MARIANA	Isabel,
	Sweet Isabel, do yet but kneel by me;
	Hold up your hands, say nothing; I'll speak all.
	They say, best men are moulded out of faults;
	And, for the most, become much more the better
	For being a little bad: so may my husband.
	O Isabel, will you not lend a knee?

DUKE VINCENTIO	He dies for Claudio's death.

ISABELLA	Most bounteous sir,

	[Kneeling]

	Look, if it please you, on this man condemn'd,
	As if my brother lived: I partly think
	A due sincerity govern'd his deeds,
	Till he did look on me: since it is so,
	Let him not die. My brother had but justice,
	In that he did the thing for which he died:
	For Angelo,
	His act did not o'ertake his bad intent,
	And must be buried but as an intent
	That perish'd by the way: thoughts are no subjects;
	Intents but merely thoughts.

MARIANA	Merely, my lord.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Your suit's unprofitable; stand up, I say.
	I have bethought me of another fault.
	Provost, how came it Claudio was beheaded
	At an unusual hour?

Provost	It was commanded so.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Had you a special warrant for the deed?

Provost	No, my good lord; it was by private message.

DUKE VINCENTIO	For which I do discharge you of your office:
	Give up your keys.

Provost	                  Pardon me, noble lord:
	I thought it was a fault, but knew it not;
	Yet did repent me, after more advice;
	For testimony whereof, one in the prison,
	That should by private order else have died,
	I have reserved alive.

DUKE VINCENTIO	What's he?

Provost	His name is Barnardine.

DUKE VINCENTIO	I would thou hadst done so by Claudio.
	Go fetch him hither; let me look upon him.

	[Exit Provost]

ESCALUS	I am sorry, one so learned and so wise
	As you, Lord Angelo, have still appear'd,
	Should slip so grossly, both in the heat of blood.
	And lack of temper'd judgment afterward.

ANGELO	I am sorry that such sorrow I procure:
	And so deep sticks it in my penitent heart
	That I crave death more willingly than mercy;
	'Tis my deserving, and I do entreat it.

	[Re-enter Provost, with BARNARDINE, CLAUDIO muffled,
	and JULIET]

DUKE VINCENTIO	Which is that Barnardine?

Provost	This, my lord.

DUKE VINCENTIO	There was a friar told me of this man.
	Sirrah, thou art said to have a stubborn soul.
	That apprehends no further than this world,
	And squarest thy life according. Thou'rt condemn'd:
	But, for those earthly faults, I quit them all;
	And pray thee take this mercy to provide
	For better times to come. Friar, advise him;
	I leave him to your hand. What muffled fellow's that?

Provost	This is another prisoner that I saved.
	Who should have died when Claudio lost his head;
	As like almost to Claudio as himself.

	[Unmuffles CLAUDIO]

DUKE VINCENTIO	[To ISABELLA]  If he be like your brother, for his sake
	Is he pardon'd; and, for your lovely sake,
	Give me your hand and say you will be mine.
	He is my brother too: but fitter time for that.
	By this Lord Angelo perceives he's safe;
	Methinks I see a quickening in his eye.
	Well, Angelo, your evil quits you well:
	Look that you love your wife; her worth worth yours.
	I find an apt remission in myself;
	And yet here's one in place I cannot pardon.

	[To LUCIO]

	You, sirrah, that knew me for a fool, a coward,
	One all of luxury, an ass, a madman;
	Wherein have I so deserved of you,
	That you extol me thus?

LUCIO	'Faith, my lord. I spoke it but according to the
	trick. If you will hang me for it, you may; but I
	had rather it would please you I might be whipt.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Whipt first, sir, and hanged after.
	Proclaim it, provost, round about the city.
	Is any woman wrong'd by this lewd fellow,
	As I have heard him swear himself there's one
	Whom he begot with child, let her appear,
	And he shall marry her: the nuptial finish'd,
	Let him be whipt and hang'd.

LUCIO	I beseech your highness, do not marry me to a whore.
	Your highness said even now, I made you a duke:
	good my lord, do not recompense me in making me a cuckold.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Upon mine honour, thou shalt marry her.
	Thy slanders I forgive; and therewithal
	Remit thy other forfeits. Take him to prison;
	And see our pleasure herein executed.

LUCIO	Marrying a punk, my lord, is pressing to death,
	whipping, and hanging.

DUKE VINCENTIO	Slandering a prince deserves it.

	[Exit Officers with LUCIO]

	She, Claudio, that you wrong'd, look you restore.
	Joy to you, Mariana! Love her, Angelo:
	I have confess'd her and I know her virtue.
	Thanks, good friend Escalus, for thy much goodness:
	There's more behind that is more gratulate.
	Thanks, provost, for thy care and secrecy:
	We shill employ thee in a worthier place.
	Forgive him, Angelo, that brought you home
	The head of Ragozine for Claudio's:
	The offence pardons itself. Dear Isabel,
	I have a motion much imports your good;
	Whereto if you'll a willing ear incline,
	What's mine is yours and what is yours is mine.
	So, bring us to our palace; where we'll show
	What's yet behind, that's meet you all should know.

	[Exeunt]




	ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL


	DRAMATIS PERSONAE


KING OF FRANCE	(KING:)

DUKE OF FLORENCE	(DUKE:)

BERTRAM	Count of Rousillon.

LAFEU	an old lord.

PAROLLES	a follower of Bertram.


Steward	|
	|  servants to the Countess of Rousillon.
Clown	|


	A Page. (Page:)

COUNTESS OF
ROUSILLON	mother to Bertram. (COUNTESS:)

HELENA	a gentlewoman protected by the Countess.

	An old Widow of Florence. (Widow:)

DIANA	daughter to the Widow.


VIOLENTA	|
	|  neighbours and friends to the Widow.
MARIANA	|


	Lords, Officers, Soldiers, &c., French and Florentine.
	(First Lord:)
	(Second Lord:)
	(Fourth Lord:)
	(First Gentleman:)
	(Second Gentleman:)
	(First Soldier:)
	(Gentleman:)



SCENE	Rousillon; Paris; Florence; Marseilles.




	ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL


ACT I



SCENE I	Rousillon. The COUNT's palace.


	[Enter BERTRAM, the COUNTESS of Rousillon, HELENA,
	and LAFEU, all in black]

COUNTESS	In delivering my son from me, I bury a second husband.

BERTRAM	And I in going, madam, weep o'er my father's death
	anew: but I must attend his majesty's command, to
	whom I am now in ward, evermore in subjection.

LAFEU	You shall find of the king a husband, madam; you,
	sir, a father: he that so generally is at all times
	good must of necessity hold his virtue to you; whose
	worthiness would stir it up where it wanted rather
	than lack it where there is such abundance.

COUNTESS	What hope is there of his majesty's amendment?

LAFEU	He hath abandoned his physicians, madam; under whose
	practises he hath persecuted time with hope, and
	finds no other advantage in the process but only the
	losing of hope by time.

COUNTESS	This young gentlewoman had a father,--O, that
	'had'! how sad a passage 'tis!--whose skill was
	almost as great as his honesty; had it stretched so
	far, would have made nature immortal, and death
	should have play for lack of work. Would, for the
	king's sake, he were living! I think it would be
	the death of the king's disease.

LAFEU	How called you the man you speak of, madam?

COUNTESS	He was famous, sir, in his profession, and it was
	his great right to be so: Gerard de Narbon.

LAFEU	He was excellent indeed, madam: the king very
	lately spoke of him admiringly and mourningly: he
	was skilful enough to have lived still, if knowledge
	could be set up against mortality.

BERTRAM	What is it, my good lord, the king languishes of?

LAFEU	A fistula, my lord.

BERTRAM	I heard not of it before.

LAFEU	I would it were not notorious. Was this gentlewoman
	the daughter of Gerard de Narbon?

COUNTESS	His sole child, my lord, and bequeathed to my
	overlooking. I have those hopes of her good that
	her education promises; her dispositions she
	inherits, which makes fair gifts fairer; for where
	an unclean mind carries virtuous qualities, there
	commendations go with pity; they are virtues and
	traitors too; in her they are the better for their
	simpleness; she derives her honesty and achieves her goodness.

LAFEU	Your commendations, madam, get from her tears.

COUNTESS	'Tis the best brine a maiden can season her praise
	in. The remembrance of her father never approaches
	her heart but the tyranny of her sorrows takes all
	livelihood from her cheek. No more of this, Helena;
	go to, no more; lest it be rather thought you affect
	a sorrow than have it.

HELENA	I do affect a sorrow indeed, but I have it too.

LAFEU	Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead,
	excessive grief the enemy to the living.

COUNTESS	If the living be enemy to the grief, the excess
	makes it soon mortal.

BERTRAM	Madam, I desire your holy wishes.

LAFEU	How understand we that?

COUNTESS	Be thou blest, Bertram, and succeed thy father
	In manners, as in shape! thy blood and virtue
	Contend for empire in thee, and thy goodness
	Share with thy birthright! Love all, trust a few,
	Do wrong to none: be able for thine enemy
	Rather in power than use, and keep thy friend
	Under thy own life's key: be cheque'd for silence,
	But never tax'd for speech. What heaven more will,
	That thee may furnish and my prayers pluck down,
	Fall on thy head! Farewell, my lord;
	'Tis an unseason'd courtier; good my lord,
	Advise him.

LAFEU	          He cannot want the best
	That shall attend his love.

COUNTESS	Heaven bless him! Farewell, Bertram.

	[Exit]

BERTRAM	[To HELENA]  The best wishes that can be forged in
	your thoughts be servants to you! Be comfortable
	to my mother, your mistress, and make much of her.

LAFEU	Farewell, pretty lady: you must hold the credit of
	your father.

	[Exeunt BERTRAM and LAFEU]

HELENA	O, were that all! I think not on my father;
	And these great tears grace his remembrance more
	Than those I shed for him. What was he like?
	I have forgot him: my imagination
	Carries no favour in't but Bertram's.
	I am undone: there is no living, none,
	If Bertram be away. 'Twere all one
	That I should love a bright particular star
	And think to wed it, he is so above me:
	In his bright radiance and collateral light
	Must I be comforted, not in his sphere.
	The ambition in my love thus plagues itself:
	The hind that would be mated by the lion
	Must die for love. 'Twas pretty, though plague,
	To see him every hour; to sit and draw
	His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls,
	In our heart's table; heart too capable
	Of every line and trick of his sweet favour:
	But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy
	Must sanctify his reliques. Who comes here?

	[Enter PAROLLES]

	[Aside]

	One that goes with him: I love him for his sake;
	And yet I know him a notorious liar,
	Think him a great way fool, solely a coward;
	Yet these fixed evils sit so fit in him,
	That they take place, when virtue's steely bones
	Look bleak i' the cold wind: withal, full oft we see
	Cold wisdom waiting on superfluous folly.

PAROLLES	Save you, fair queen!

HELENA	And you, monarch!

PAROLLES	No.

HELENA	And no.

PAROLLES	Are you meditating on virginity?

HELENA	Ay. You have some stain of soldier in you: let me
	ask you a question. Man is enemy to virginity; how
	may we barricado it against him?

PAROLLES	Keep him out.

HELENA	But he assails; and our virginity, though valiant,
	in the defence yet is weak: unfold to us some
	warlike resistance.

PAROLLES	There is none: man, sitting down before you, will
	undermine you and blow you up.

HELENA	Bless our poor virginity from underminers and
	blowers up! Is there no military policy, how
	virgins might blow up men?

PAROLLES	Virginity being blown down, man will quicklier be
	blown up: marry, in blowing him down again, with
	the breach yourselves made, you lose your city. It
	is not politic in the commonwealth of nature to
	preserve virginity. Loss of virginity is rational
	increase and there was never virgin got till
	virginity was first lost. That you were made of is
	metal to make virgins. Virginity by being once lost
	may be ten times found; by being ever kept, it is
	ever lost: 'tis too cold a companion; away with 't!

HELENA	I will stand for 't a little, though therefore I die a virgin.

PAROLLES	There's little can be said in 't; 'tis against the
	rule of nature. To speak on the part of virginity,
	is to accuse your mothers; which is most infallible
	disobedience. He that hangs himself is a virgin:
	virginity murders itself and should be buried in
	highways out of all sanctified limit, as a desperate
	offendress against nature. Virginity breeds mites,
	much like a cheese; consumes itself to the very
	paring, and so dies with feeding his own stomach.
	Besides, virginity is peevish, proud, idle, made of
	self-love, which is the most inhibited sin in the
	canon. Keep it not; you cannot choose but loose
	by't: out with 't! within ten year it will make
	itself ten, which is a goodly increase; and the
	principal itself not much the worse: away with 't!

HELENA	How might one do, sir, to lose it to her own liking?

PAROLLES	Let me see: marry, ill, to like him that ne'er it
	likes. 'Tis a commodity will lose the gloss with
	lying; the longer kept, the less worth: off with 't
	while 'tis vendible; answer the time of request.
	Virginity, like an old courtier, wears her cap out
	of fashion: richly suited, but unsuitable: just
	like the brooch and the tooth-pick, which wear not
	now. Your date is better in your pie and your
	porridge than in your cheek; and your virginity,
	your old virginity, is like one of our French
	withered pears, it looks ill, it eats drily; marry,
	'tis a withered pear; it was formerly better;
	marry, yet 'tis a withered pear: will you anything with it?

HELENA	Not my virginity yet [         ]
	There shall your master have a thousand loves,
	A mother and a mistress and a friend,
	A phoenix, captain and an enemy,
	A guide, a goddess, and a sovereign,
	A counsellor, a traitress, and a dear;
	His humble ambition, proud humility,
	His jarring concord, and his discord dulcet,
	His faith, his sweet disaster; with a world
	Of pretty, fond, adoptious christendoms,
	That blinking Cupid gossips. Now shall he--
	I know not what he shall. God send him well!
	The court's a learning place, and he is one--

PAROLLES	What one, i' faith?

HELENA	That I wish well. 'Tis pity--

PAROLLES	What's pity?

HELENA	That wishing well had not a body in't,
	Which might be felt; that we, the poorer born,
	Whose baser stars do shut us up in wishes,
	Might with effects of them follow our friends,
	And show what we alone must think, which never
	Return us thanks.

	[Enter Page]

Page	Monsieur Parolles, my lord calls for you.

	[Exit]

PAROLLES	Little Helen, farewell; if I can remember thee, I
	will think of thee at court.

HELENA	Monsieur Parolles, you were born under a charitable star.

PAROLLES	Under Mars, I.

HELENA	I especially think, under Mars.

PAROLLES	Why under Mars?

HELENA	The wars have so kept you under that you must needs
	be born under Mars.

PAROLLES	When he was predominant.

HELENA	When he was retrograde, I think, rather.

PAROLLES	Why think you so?

HELENA	You go so much backward when you fight.

PAROLLES	That's for advantage.

HELENA	So is running away, when fear proposes the safety;
	but the composition that your valour and fear makes
	in you is a virtue of a good wing, and I like the wear well.

PAROLLES	I am so full of businesses, I cannot answer thee
	acutely. I will return perfect courtier; in the
	which, my instruction shall serve to naturalize
	thee, so thou wilt be capable of a courtier's
	counsel and understand what advice shall thrust upon
	thee; else thou diest in thine unthankfulness, and
	thine ignorance makes thee away: farewell. When
	thou hast leisure, say thy prayers; when thou hast
	none, remember thy friends; get thee a good husband,
	and use him as he uses thee; so, farewell.

	[Exit]

HELENA	Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie,
	Which we ascribe to heaven: the fated sky
	Gives us free scope, only doth backward pull
	Our slow designs when we ourselves are dull.
	What power is it which mounts my love so high,
	That makes me see, and cannot feed mine eye?
	The mightiest space in fortune nature brings
	To join like likes and kiss like native things.
	Impossible be strange attempts to those
	That weigh their pains in sense and do suppose
	What hath been cannot be: who ever strove
	So show her merit, that did miss her love?
	The king's disease--my project may deceive me,
	But my intents are fix'd and will not leave me.

	[Exit]




	ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL


ACT I



SCENE II	Paris. The KING's palace.


	[Flourish of cornets. Enter the KING of France,
	with letters, and divers Attendants]

KING	The Florentines and Senoys are by the ears;
	Have fought with equal fortune and continue
	A braving war.

First Lord	                  So 'tis reported, sir.

KING	Nay, 'tis most credible; we here received it
	A certainty, vouch'd from our cousin Austria,
	With caution that the Florentine will move us
	For speedy aid; wherein our dearest friend
	Prejudicates the business and would seem
	To have us make denial.

First Lord	His love and wisdom,
	Approved so to your majesty, may plead
	For amplest credence.

KING	He hath arm'd our answer,
	And Florence is denied before he comes:
	Yet, for our gentlemen that mean to see
	The Tuscan service, freely have they leave
	To stand on either part.

Second Lord	It well may serve
	A nursery to our gentry, who are sick
	For breathing and exploit.

KING	What's he comes here?

	[Enter BERTRAM, LAFEU, and PAROLLES]

First Lord	It is the Count Rousillon, my good lord,
	Young Bertram.

KING	                  Youth, thou bear'st thy father's face;
	Frank nature, rather curious than in haste,
	Hath well composed thee. Thy father's moral parts
	Mayst thou inherit too! Welcome to Paris.

BERTRAM	My thanks and duty are your majesty's.

KING	I would I had that corporal soundness now,
	As when thy father and myself in friendship
	First tried our soldiership! He did look far
	Into the service of the time and was
	Discipled of the bravest: he lasted long;
	But on us both did haggish age steal on
	And wore us out of act. It much repairs me
	To talk of your good father. In his youth
	He had the wit which I can well observe
	To-day in our young lords; but they may jest
	Till their own scorn return to them unnoted
	Ere they can hide their levity in honour;
	So like a courtier, contempt nor bitterness
	Were in his pride or sharpness; if they were,
	His equal had awaked them, and his honour,
	Clock to itself, knew the true minute when
	Exception bid him speak, and at this time
	His tongue obey'd his hand: who were below him
	He used as creatures of another place
	And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks,
	Making them proud of his humility,
	In their poor praise he humbled. Such a man
	Might be a copy to these younger times;
	Which, follow'd well, would demonstrate them now
	But goers backward.

BERTRAM	His good remembrance, sir,
	Lies richer in your thoughts than on his tomb;
	So in approof lives not his epitaph
	As in your royal speech.

KING	Would I were with him! He would always say--
	Methinks I hear him now; his plausive words
	He scatter'd not in ears, but grafted them,
	To grow there and to bear,--'Let me not live,'--
	This his good melancholy oft began,
	On the catastrophe and heel of pastime,
	When it was out,--'Let me not live,' quoth he,
	'After my flame lacks oil, to be the snuff
	Of younger spirits, whose apprehensive senses
	All but new things disdain; whose judgments are
	Mere fathers of their garments; whose constancies
	Expire before their fashions.' This he wish'd;
	I after him do after him wish too,
	Since I nor wax nor honey can bring home,
	I quickly were dissolved from my hive,
	To give some labourers room.

Second Lord	You are loved, sir:
	They that least lend it you shall lack you first.

KING	I fill a place, I know't. How long is't, count,
	Since the physician at your father's died?
	He was much famed.

BERTRAM	                  Some six months since, my lord.

KING	If he were living, I would try him yet.
	Lend me an arm; the rest have worn me out
	With several applications; nature and sickness
	Debate it at their leisure. Welcome, count;
	My son's no dearer.

BERTRAM	Thank your majesty.

	[Exeunt. Flourish]




	ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL


ACT I



SCENE III	Rousillon. The COUNT's palace.


	[Enter COUNTESS, Steward, and Clown]

COUNTESS	I will now hear; what say you of this gentlewoman?

Steward	Madam, the care I have had to even your content, I
	wish might be found in the calendar of my past
	endeavours; for then we wound our modesty and make
	foul the clearness of our deservings, when of
	ourselves we publish them.

COUNTESS	What does this knave here? Get you gone, sirrah:
	the complaints I have heard of you I do not all
	believe: 'tis my slowness that I do not; for I know
	you lack not folly to commit them, and have ability
	enough to make such knaveries yours.

Clown	'Tis not unknown to you, madam, I am a poor fellow.

COUNTESS	Well, sir.

Clown	No, madam, 'tis not so well that I am poor, though
	many of the rich are damned: but, if I may have
	your ladyship's good will to go to the world, Isbel
	the woman and I will do as we may.

COUNTESS	Wilt thou needs be a beggar?

Clown	I do beg your good will in this case.

COUNTESS	In what case?

Clown	In Isbel's case and mine own. Service is no
	heritage: and I think I shall never have the
	blessing of God till I have issue o' my body; for
	they say barnes are blessings.

COUNTESS	Tell me thy reason why thou wilt marry.

Clown	My poor body, madam, requires it: I am driven on
	by the flesh; and he must needs go that the devil drives.

COUNTESS	Is this all your worship's reason?

Clown	Faith, madam, I have other holy reasons such as they
	are.

COUNTESS	May the world know them?

Clown	I have been, madam, a wicked creature, as you and
	all flesh and blood are; and, indeed, I do marry
	that I may repent.

COUNTESS	Thy marriage, sooner than thy wickedness.

Clown	I am out o' friends, madam; and I hope to have
	friends for my wife's sake.

COUNTESS	Such friends are thine enemies, knave.

Clown	You're shallow, madam, in great friends; for the
	knaves come to do that for me which I am aweary of.
	He that ears my land spares my team and gives me
	leave to in the crop; if I be his cuckold, he's my
	drudge: he that comforts my wife is the cherisher
	of my flesh and blood; he that cherishes my flesh
	and blood loves my flesh and blood; he that loves my
	flesh and blood is my friend: ergo, he that kisses
	my wife is my friend. If men could be contented to
	be what they are, there were no fear in marriage;
	for young Charbon the Puritan and old Poysam the
	Papist, howsome'er their hearts are severed in
	religion, their heads are both one; they may jowl
	horns together, like any deer i' the herd.

COUNTESS	Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouthed and calumnious knave?

Clown	A prophet I, madam; and I speak the truth the next
	way:
	For I the ballad will repeat,
	Which men full true shall find;
	Your marriage comes by destiny,
	Your cuckoo sings by kind.

COUNTESS	Get you gone, sir; I'll talk with you more anon.

Steward	May it please you, madam, that he bid Helen come to
	you: of her I am to speak.

COUNTESS	Sirrah, tell my gentlewoman I would speak with her;
	Helen, I mean.

Clown	     Was this fair face the cause, quoth she,
	Why the Grecians sacked Troy?
	Fond done, done fond,
	Was this King Priam's joy?
	With that she sighed as she stood,
	With that she sighed as she stood,
	And gave this sentence then;
	Among nine bad if one be good,
	Among nine bad if one be good,
	There's yet one good in ten.

COUNTESS	What, one good in ten? you corrupt the song, sirrah.

Clown	One good woman in ten, madam; which is a purifying
	o' the song: would God would serve the world so all
	the year! we'ld find no fault with the tithe-woman,
	if I were the parson. One in ten, quoth a'! An we
	might have a good woman born but one every blazing
	star, or at an earthquake, 'twould mend the lottery
	well: a man may draw his heart out, ere a' pluck
	one.

COUNTESS	You'll be gone, sir knave, and do as I command you.

Clown	That man should be at woman's command, and yet no
	hurt done! Though honesty be no puritan, yet it
	will do no hurt; it will wear the surplice of
	humility over the black gown of a big heart. I am
	going, forsooth: the business is for Helen to come hither.

	[Exit]

COUNTESS	Well, now.

Steward	I know, madam, you love your gentlewoman entirely.

COUNTESS	Faith, I do: her father bequeathed her to me; and
	she herself, without other advantage, may lawfully
	make title to as much love as she finds: there is
	more owing her than is paid; and more shall be paid
	her than she'll demand.

Steward	Madam, I was very late more near her than I think
	she wished me: alone she was, and did communicate
	to herself her own words to her own ears; she
	thought, I dare vow for her, they touched not any
	stranger sense. Her matter was, she loved your son:
	Fortune, she said, was no goddess, that had put
	such difference betwixt their two estates; Love no
	god, that would not extend his might, only where
	qualities were level; Dian no queen of virgins, that
	would suffer her poor knight surprised, without
	rescue in the first assault or ransom afterward.
	This she delivered in the most bitter touch of
	sorrow that e'er I heard virgin exclaim in: which I
	held my duty speedily to acquaint you withal;
	sithence, in the loss that may happen, it concerns
	you something to know it.

COUNTESS	You have discharged this honestly; keep it to
	yourself: many likelihoods informed me of this
	before, which hung so tottering in the balance that
	I could neither believe nor misdoubt. Pray you,
	leave me: stall this in your bosom; and I thank you
	for your honest care: I will speak with you further anon.

	[Exit Steward]

	[Enter HELENA]

	Even so it was with me when I was young:
	If ever we are nature's, these are ours; this thorn
	Doth to our rose of youth rightly belong;
	Our blood to us, this to our blood is born;
	It is the show and seal of nature's truth,
	Where love's strong passion is impress'd in youth:
	By our remembrances of days foregone,
	Such were our faults, or then we thought them none.
	Her eye is sick on't: I observe her now.

HELENA	What is your pleasure, madam?

COUNTESS	You know, Helen,
	I am a mother to you.

HELENA	Mine honourable mistress.

COUNTESS	Nay, a mother:
	Why not a mother? When I said 'a mother,'
	Methought you saw a serpent: what's in 'mother,'
	That you start at it? I say, I am your mother;
	And put you in the catalogue of those
	That were enwombed mine: 'tis often seen
	Adoption strives with nature and choice breeds
	A native slip to us from foreign seeds:
	You ne'er oppress'd me with a mother's groan,
	Yet I express to you a mother's care:
	God's mercy, maiden! does it curd thy blood
	To say I am thy mother? What's the matter,
	That this distemper'd messenger of wet,
	The many-colour'd Iris, rounds thine eye?
	Why? that you are my daughter?

HELENA	That I am not.

COUNTESS	I say, I am your mother.

HELENA	Pardon, madam;
	The Count Rousillon cannot be my brother:
	I am from humble, he from honour'd name;
	No note upon my parents, his all noble:
	My master, my dear lord he is; and I
	His servant live, and will his vassal die:
	He must not be my brother.

COUNTESS	Nor I your mother?

HELENA	You are my mother, madam; would you were,--
	So that my lord your son were not my brother,--
	Indeed my mother! or were you both our mothers,
	I care no more for than I do for heaven,
	So I were not his sister. Can't no other,
	But, I your daughter, he must be my brother?

COUNTESS	Yes, Helen, you might be my daughter-in-law:
	God shield you mean it not! daughter and mother
	So strive upon your pulse. What, pale again?
	My fear hath catch'd your fondness: now I see
	The mystery of your loneliness, and find
	Your salt tears' head: now to all sense 'tis gross
	You love my son; invention is ashamed,
	Against the proclamation of thy passion,
	To say thou dost not: therefore tell me true;
	But tell me then, 'tis so; for, look thy cheeks
	Confess it, th' one to th' other; and thine eyes
	See it so grossly shown in thy behaviors
	That in their kind they speak it: only sin
	And hellish obstinacy tie thy tongue,
	That truth should be suspected. Speak, is't so?
	If it be so, you have wound a goodly clew;
	If it be not, forswear't: howe'er, I charge thee,
	As heaven shall work in me for thine avail,
	Tell me truly.

HELENA	                  Good madam, pardon me!

COUNTESS	Do you love my son?

HELENA	Your pardon, noble mistress!

COUNTESS	Love you my son?

HELENA	                  Do not you love him, madam?

COUNTESS	Go not about; my love hath in't a bond,
	Whereof the world takes note: come, come, disclose
	The state of your affection; for your passions
	Have to the full appeach'd.

HELENA	Then, I confess,
	Here on my knee, before high heaven and you,
	That before you, and next unto high heaven,
	I love your son.
	My friends were poor, but honest; so's my love:
	Be not offended; for it hurts not him
	That he is loved of me: I follow him not
	By any token of presumptuous suit;
	Nor would I have him till I do deserve him;
	Yet never know how that desert should be.
	I know I love in vain, strive against hope;
	Yet in this captious and intenible sieve
	I still pour in the waters of my love
	And lack not to lose still: thus, Indian-like,
	Religious in mine error, I adore
	The sun, that looks upon his worshipper,
	But knows of him no more. My dearest madam,
	Let not your hate encounter with my love
	For loving where you do: but if yourself,
	Whose aged honour cites a virtuous youth,
	Did ever in so true a flame of liking
	Wish chastely and love dearly, that your Dian
	Was both herself and love: O, then, give pity
	To her, whose state is such that cannot choose
	But lend and give where she is sure to lose;
	That seeks not to find that her search implies,
	But riddle-like lives sweetly where she dies!

COUNTESS	Had you not lately an intent,--speak truly,--
	To go to Paris?

HELENA	                  Madam, I had.

COUNTESS	Wherefore? tell true.

HELENA	I will tell truth; by grace itself I swear.
	You know my father left me some prescriptions
	Of rare and proved effects, such as his reading
	And manifest experience had collected
	For general sovereignty; and that he will'd me
	In heedfull'st reservation to bestow them,
	As notes whose faculties inclusive were
	More than they were in note: amongst the rest,
	There is a remedy, approved, set down,
	To cure the desperate languishings whereof
	The king is render'd lost.

COUNTESS	This was your motive
	For Paris, was it? speak.

HELENA	My lord your son made me to think of this;
	Else Paris and the medicine and the king
	Had from the conversation of my thoughts
	Haply been absent then.

COUNTESS	But think you, Helen,
	If you should tender your supposed aid,
	He would receive it? he and his physicians
	Are of a mind; he, that they cannot help him,
	They, that they cannot help: how shall they credit
	A poor unlearned virgin, when the schools,
	Embowell'd of their doctrine, have left off
	The danger to itself?

HELENA	There's something in't,
	More than my father's skill, which was the greatest
	Of his profession, that his good receipt
	Shall for my legacy be sanctified
	By the luckiest stars in heaven: and, would your honour
	But give me leave to try success, I'ld venture
	The well-lost life of mine on his grace's cure
	By such a day and hour.

COUNTESS	Dost thou believe't?

HELENA	Ay, madam, knowingly.

COUNTESS	Why, Helen, thou shalt have my leave and love,
	Means and attendants and my loving greetings
	To those of mine in court: I'll stay at home
	And pray God's blessing into thy attempt:
	Be gone to-morrow; and be sure of this,
	What I can help thee to thou shalt not miss.

	[Exeunt]




	ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL


ACT II



SCENE I	Paris. The KING's palace.


	[Flourish of cornets. Enter the KING, attended
	with divers young Lords taking leave for the
	Florentine war; BERTRAM, and PAROLLES]

KING	Farewell, young lords; these warlike principles
	Do not throw from you: and you, my lords, farewell:
	Share the advice betwixt you; if both gain, all
	The gift doth stretch itself as 'tis received,
	And is enough for both.

First Lord	'Tis our hope, sir,
	After well enter'd soldiers, to return
	And find your grace in health.

KING	No, no, it cannot be; and yet my heart
	Will not confess he owes the malady
	That doth my life besiege. Farewell, young lords;
	Whether I live or die, be you the sons
	Of worthy Frenchmen: let higher Italy,--
	Those bated that inherit but the fall
	Of the last monarchy,--see that you come
	Not to woo honour, but to wed it; when
	The bravest questant shrinks, find what you seek,
	That fame may cry you loud: I say, farewell.

Second Lord	Health, at your bidding, serve your majesty!

KING	Those girls of Italy, take heed of them:
	They say, our French lack language to deny,
	If they demand: beware of being captives,
	Before you serve.

Both	                  Our hearts receive your warnings.

KING	Farewell. Come hither to me.

	[Exit, attended]

First Lord	O, my sweet lord, that you will stay behind us!

PAROLLES	'Tis not his fault, the spark.

Second Lord	O, 'tis brave wars!

PAROLLES	Most admirable: I have seen those wars.

BERTRAM	I am commanded here, and kept a coil with
	'Too young' and 'the next year' and ''tis too early.'

PAROLLES	An thy mind stand to't, boy, steal away bravely.

BERTRAM	I shall stay here the forehorse to a smock,
	Creaking my shoes on the plain masonry,
	Till honour be bought up and no sword worn
	But one to dance with! By heaven, I'll steal away.

First Lord	There's honour in the theft.

PAROLLES	Commit it, count.

Second Lord	I am your accessary; and so, farewell.

BERTRAM	I grow to you, and our parting is a tortured body.

First Lord	Farewell, captain.

Second Lord	Sweet Monsieur Parolles!

PAROLLES	Noble heroes, my sword and yours are kin. Good
	sparks and lustrous, a word, good metals: you shall
	find in the regiment of the Spinii one Captain
	Spurio, with his cicatrice, an emblem of war, here
	on his sinister cheek; it was this very sword
	entrenched it: say to him, I live; and observe his
	reports for me.

First Lord	We shall, noble captain.

	[Exeunt Lords]

PAROLLES	Mars dote on you for his novices! what will ye do?

BERTRAM	Stay: the king.

	[Re-enter KING. BERTRAM and PAROLLES retire]

PAROLLES	[To BERTRAM]  Use a more spacious ceremony to the
	noble lords; you have restrained yourself within the
	list of too cold an adieu: be more expressive to
	them: for they wear themselves in the cap of the
	time, there do muster true gait, eat, speak, and
	move under the influence of the most received star;
	and though the devil lead the measure, such are to
	be followed: after them, and take a more dilated farewell.

BERTRAM	And I will do so.

PAROLLES	Worthy fellows; and like to prove most sinewy sword-men.

	[Exeunt BERTRAM and PAROLLES]

	[Enter LAFEU]

LAFEU	[Kneeling]  Pardon, my lord, for me and for my tidings.

KING	I'll fee thee to stand up.

LAFEU	Then here's a man stands, that has brought his pardon.
	I would you had kneel'd, my lord, to ask me mercy,
	And that at my bidding you could so stand up.

KING	I would I had; so I had broke thy pate,
	And ask'd thee mercy for't.

LAFEU	Good faith, across: but, my good lord 'tis thus;
	Will you be cured of your infirmity?

KING	No.

LAFEU	O, will you eat no grapes, my royal fox?
	Yes, but you will my noble grapes, an if
	My royal fox could reach them: I have seen a medicine
	That's able to breathe life into a stone,
	Quicken a rock, and make you dance canary
	With spritely fire and motion; whose simple touch,
	Is powerful to araise King Pepin, nay,
	To give great Charlemain a pen in's hand,
	And write to her a love-line.

KING	What 'her' is this?

LAFEU	Why, Doctor She: my lord, there's one arrived,
	If you will see her: now, by my faith and honour,
	If seriously I may convey my thoughts
	In this my light deliverance, I have spoke
	With one that, in her sex, her years, profession,
	Wisdom and constancy, hath amazed me more
	Than I dare blame my weakness: will you see her
	For that is her demand, and know her business?
	That done, laugh well at me.

KING	Now, good Lafeu,
	Bring in the admiration; that we with thee
	May spend our wonder too, or take off thine
	By wondering how thou took'st it.

LAFEU	Nay, I'll fit you,
	And not be all day neither.

	[Exit]

KING	Thus he his special nothing ever prologues.

	[Re-enter LAFEU, with HELENA]

LAFEU	Nay, come your ways.

KING	This haste hath wings indeed.

LAFEU	Nay, come your ways:
	This is his majesty; say your mind to him:
	A traitor you do look like; but such traitors
	His majesty seldom fears: I am Cressid's uncle,
	That dare leave two together; fare you well.

	[Exit]

KING	Now, fair one, does your business follow us?

HELENA	Ay, my good lord.
	Gerard de Narbon was my father;
	In what he did profess, well found.

KING	I knew him.

HELENA	The rather will I spare my praises towards him:
	Knowing him is enough. On's bed of death
	Many receipts he gave me: chiefly one.
	Which, as the dearest issue of his practise,
	And of his old experience the oily darling,
	He bade me store up, as a triple eye,
	Safer than mine own two, more dear; I have so;
	And hearing your high majesty is touch'd
	With that malignant cause wherein the honour
	Of my dear father's gift stands chief in power,
	I come to tender it and my appliance
	With all bound humbleness.

KING	We thank you, maiden;
	But may not be so credulous of cure,
	When our most learned doctors leave us and
	The congregated college have concluded
	That labouring art can never ransom nature
	From her inaidible estate; I say we must not
	So stain our judgment, or corrupt our hope,
	To prostitute our past-cure malady
	To empirics, or to dissever so
	Our great self and our credit, to esteem
	A senseless help when help past sense we deem.

HELENA	My duty then shall pay me for my pains:
	I will no more enforce mine office on you.
	Humbly entreating from your royal thoughts
	A modest one, to bear me back a again.

KING	I cannot give thee less, to be call'd grateful:
	Thou thought'st to help me; and such thanks I give
	As one near death to those that wish him live:
	But what at full I know, thou know'st no part,
	I knowing all my peril, thou no art.

HELENA	What I can do can do no hurt to try,
	Since you set up your rest 'gainst remedy.
	He that of greatest works is finisher
	Oft does them by the weakest minister:
	So holy writ in babes hath judgment shown,
	When judges have been babes; great floods have flown
	From simple sources, and great seas have dried
	When miracles have by the greatest been denied.
	Oft expectation fails and most oft there
	Where most it promises, and oft it hits
	Where hope is coldest and despair most fits.

KING	I must not hear thee; fare thee well, kind maid;
	Thy pains not used must by thyself be paid:
	Proffers not took reap thanks for their reward.

HELENA	Inspired merit so by breath is barr'd:
	It is not so with Him that all things knows
	As 'tis with us that square our guess by shows;
	But most it is presumption in us when
	The help of heaven we count the act of men.
	Dear sir, to my endeavours give consent;
	Of heaven, not me, make an experiment.
	I am not an impostor that proclaim
	Myself against the level of mine aim;
	But know I think and think I know most sure
	My art is not past power nor you past cure.

KING	Are thou so confident? within what space
	Hopest thou my cure?

HELENA	The great'st grace lending grace
	Ere twice the horses of the sun shall bring
	Their fiery torcher his diurnal ring,
	Ere twice in murk and occidental damp
	Moist Hesperus hath quench'd his sleepy lamp,
	Or four and twenty times the pilot's glass
	Hath told the thievish minutes how they pass,
	What is infirm from your sound parts shall fly,
	Health shall live free and sickness freely die.

KING	Upon thy certainty and confidence
	What darest thou venture?

HELENA	Tax of impudence,
	A strumpet's boldness, a divulged shame
	Traduced by odious ballads: my maiden's name
	Sear'd otherwise; nay, worse--if worse--extended
	With vilest torture let my life be ended.

KING	Methinks in thee some blessed spirit doth speak
	His powerful sound within an organ weak:
	And what impossibility would slay
	In common sense, sense saves another way.
	Thy life is dear; for all that life can rate
	Worth name of life in thee hath estimate,
	Youth, beauty, wisdom, courage, all
	That happiness and prime can happy call:
	Thou this to hazard needs must intimate
	Skill infinite or monstrous desperate.
	Sweet practiser, thy physic I will try,
	That ministers thine own death if I die.

HELENA	If I break time, or flinch in property
	Of what I spoke, unpitied let me die,
	And well deserved: not helping, death's my fee;
	But, if I help, what do you promise me?

KING	Make thy demand.

HELENA	                  But will you make it even?

KING	Ay, by my sceptre and my hopes of heaven.

HELENA	Then shalt thou give me with thy kingly hand
	What husband in thy power I will command:
	Exempted be from me the arrogance
	To choose from forth the royal blood of France,
	My low and humble name to propagate
	With any branch or image of thy state;
	But such a one, thy vassal, whom I know
	Is free for me to ask, thee to bestow.

KING	Here is my hand; the premises observed,
	Thy will by my performance shall be served:
	So make the choice of thy own time, for I,
	Thy resolved patient, on thee still rely.
	More should I question thee, and more I must,
	Though more to know could not be more to trust,
	From whence thou camest, how tended on: but rest
	Unquestion'd welcome and undoubted blest.
	Give me some help here, ho! If thou proceed
	As high as word, my deed shall match thy meed.

	[Flourish. Exeunt]




	ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL


ACT II



SCENE II	Rousillon. The COUNT's palace.


	[Enter COUNTESS and Clown]

COUNTESS	Come on, sir; I shall now put you to the height of
	your breeding.

Clown	I will show myself highly fed and lowly taught: I
	know my business is but to the court.

COUNTESS	To the court! why, what place make you special,
	when you put off that with such contempt? But to the court!

Clown	Truly, madam, if God have lent a man any manners, he
	may easily put it off at court: he that cannot make
	a leg, put off's cap, kiss his hand and say nothing,
	has neither leg, hands, lip, nor cap; and indeed
	such a fellow, to say precisely, were not for the
	court; but for me, I have an answer will serve all
	men.

COUNTESS	Marry, that's a bountiful answer that fits all
	questions.

Clown	It is like a barber's chair that fits all buttocks,
	the pin-buttock, the quatch-buttock, the brawn
	buttock, or any buttock.

COUNTESS	Will your answer serve fit to all questions?

Clown	As fit as ten groats is for the hand of an attorney,
	as your French crown for your taffeta punk, as Tib's
	rush for Tom's forefinger, as a pancake for Shrove
	Tuesday, a morris for May-day, as the nail to his
	hole, the cuckold to his horn, as a scolding queen
	to a wrangling knave, as the nun's lip to the
	friar's mouth, nay, as the pudding to his skin.

COUNTESS	Have you, I say, an answer of such fitness for all
	questions?

Clown	From below your duke to beneath your constable, it
	will fit any question.

COUNTESS	It must be an answer of most monstrous size that
	must fit all demands.

Clown	But a trifle neither, in good faith, if the learned
	should speak truth of it: here it is, and all that
	belongs to't. Ask me if I am a courtier: it shall
	do you no harm to learn.

COUNTESS	To be young again, if we could: I will be a fool in
	question, hoping to be the wiser by your answer. I
	pray you, sir, are you a courtier?

Clown	O Lord, sir! There's a simple putting off. More,
	more, a hundred of them.

COUNTESS	Sir, I am a poor friend of yours, that loves you.

Clown	O Lord, sir! Thick, thick, spare not me.

COUNTESS	I think, sir, you can eat none of this homely meat.

Clown	O Lord, sir! Nay, put me to't, I warrant you.

COUNTESS	You were lately whipped, sir, as I think.

Clown	O Lord, sir! spare not me.

COUNTESS	Do you cry, 'O Lord, sir!' at your whipping, and
	'spare not me?' Indeed your 'O Lord, sir!' is very
	sequent to your whipping: you would answer very well
	to a whipping, if you were but bound to't.

Clown	I ne'er had worse luck in my life in my 'O Lord,
	sir!' I see things may serve long, but not serve ever.

COUNTESS	I play the noble housewife with the time
	To entertain't so merrily with a fool.

Clown	O Lord, sir! why, there't serves well again.

COUNTESS	An end, sir; to your business. Give Helen this,
	And urge her to a present answer back:
	Commend me to my kinsmen and my son:
	This is not much.

Clown	Not much commendation to them.

COUNTESS	Not much employment for you: you understand me?

Clown	Most fruitfully: I am there before my legs.

COUNTESS	Haste you again.

	[Exeunt severally]




	ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL


ACT II



SCENE III	Paris. The KING's palace.


	[Enter BERTRAM, LAFEU, and PAROLLES]

LAFEU	They say miracles are past; and we have our
	philosophical persons, to make modern and familiar,
	things supernatural and causeless. Hence is it that
	we make trifles of terrors, ensconcing ourselves
	into seeming knowledge, when we should submit
	ourselves to an unknown fear.

PAROLLES	Why, 'tis the rarest argument of wonder that hath
	shot out in our latter times.

BERTRAM	And so 'tis.

LAFEU	To be relinquish'd of the artists,--

PAROLLES	So I say.

LAFEU	Both of Galen and Paracelsus.

PAROLLES	So I say.

LAFEU	Of all the learned and authentic fellows,--

PAROLLES	Right; so I say.

LAFEU	That gave him out incurable,--

PAROLLES	Why, there 'tis; so say I too.

LAFEU	Not to be helped,--

PAROLLES	Right; as 'twere, a man assured of a--

LAFEU	Uncertain life, and sure death.

PAROLLES	Just, you say well; so would I have said.

LAFEU	I may truly say, it is a novelty to the world.

PAROLLES	It is, indeed: if you will have it in showing, you
	shall read it in--what do you call there?

LAFEU	A showing of a heavenly effect in an earthly actor.

PAROLLES	That's it; I would have said the very same.

LAFEU	Why, your dolphin is not lustier: 'fore me,
	I speak in respect--

PAROLLES	Nay, 'tis strange, 'tis very strange, that is the
	brief and the tedious of it; and he's of a most
	facinerious spirit that will not acknowledge it to be the--

LAFEU	Very hand of heaven.

PAROLLES	Ay, so I say.

LAFEU	In a most weak--

	[pausing]

	and debile minister, great power, great
	transcendence: which should, indeed, give us a
	further use to be made than alone the recovery of
	the king, as to be--

	[pausing]

	generally thankful.

PAROLLES	I would have said it; you say well. Here comes the king.

	[Enter KING, HELENA, and Attendants. LAFEU and
	PAROLLES retire]

LAFEU	Lustig, as the Dutchman says: I'll like a maid the
	better, whilst I have a tooth in my head: why, he's
	able to lead her a coranto.

PAROLLES	Mort du vinaigre! is not this Helen?

LAFEU	'Fore God, I think so.

KING	Go, call before me all the lords in court.
	Sit, my preserver, by thy patient's side;
	And with this healthful hand, whose banish'd sense
	Thou hast repeal'd, a second time receive
	The confirmation of my promised gift,
	Which but attends thy naming.

	[Enter three or four Lords]

	Fair maid, send forth thine eye: this youthful parcel
	Of noble bachelors stand at my bestowing,
	O'er whom both sovereign power and father's voice
	I have to use: thy frank election make;
	Thou hast power to choose, and they none to forsake.

HELENA	To each of you one fair and virtuous mistress
	Fall, when Love please! marry, to each, but one!

LAFEU	I'ld give bay Curtal and his furniture,
	My mouth no more were broken than these boys',
	And writ as little beard.

KING	Peruse them well:
	Not one of those but had a noble father.

HELENA	Gentlemen,
	Heaven hath through me restored the king to health.

All	We understand it, and thank heaven for you.

HELENA	I am a simple maid, and therein wealthiest,
	That I protest I simply am a maid.
	Please it your majesty, I have done already:
	The blushes in my cheeks thus whisper me,
	'We blush that thou shouldst choose; but, be refused,
	Let the white death sit on thy cheek for ever;
	We'll ne'er come there again.'

KING	Make choice; and, see,
	Who shuns thy love shuns all his love in me.

HELENA	Now, Dian, from thy altar do I fly,
	And to imperial Love, that god most high,
	Do my sighs stream. Sir, will you hear my suit?

First Lord	And grant it.

HELENA	                  Thanks, sir; all the rest is mute.

LAFEU	I had rather be in this choice than throw ames-ace
	for my life.

HELENA	The honour, sir, that flames in your fair eyes,
	Before I speak, too threateningly replies:
	Love make your fortunes twenty times above
	Her that so wishes and her humble love!

Second Lord	No better, if you please.

HELENA	My wish receive,
	Which great Love grant! and so, I take my leave.

LAFEU	Do all they deny her? An they were sons of mine,
	I'd have them whipped; or I would send them to the
	Turk, to make eunuchs of.

HELENA	Be not afraid that I your hand should take;
	I'll never do you wrong for your own sake:
	Blessing upon your vows! and in your bed
	Find fairer fortune, if you ever wed!

LAFEU	These boys are boys of ice, they'll none have her:
	sure, they are bastards to the English; the French
	ne'er got 'em.

HELENA	You are too young, too happy, and too good,
	To make yourself a son out of my blood.

Fourth Lord	Fair one, I think not so.

LAFEU	There's one grape yet; I am sure thy father drunk
	wine: but if thou be'st not an ass, I am a youth
	of fourteen; I have known thee already.

HELENA	[To BERTRAM]  I dare not say I take you; but I give
	Me and my service, ever whilst I live,
	Into your guiding power. This is the man.

KING	Why, then, young Bertram, take her; she's thy wife.

BERTRAM	My wife, my liege! I shall beseech your highness,
	In such a business give me leave to use
	The help of mine own eyes.

KING	Know'st thou not, Bertram,
	What she has done for me?

BERTRAM	Yes, my good lord;
	But never hope to know why I should marry her.

KING	Thou know'st she has raised me from my sickly bed.

BERTRAM	But follows it, my lord, to bring me down
	Must answer for your raising? I know her well:
	She had her breeding at my father's charge.
	A poor physician's daughter my wife! Disdain
	Rather corrupt me ever!

KING	'Tis only title thou disdain'st in her, the which
	I can build up. Strange is it that our bloods,
	Of colour, weight, and heat, pour'd all together,
	Would quite confound distinction, yet stand off
	In differences so mighty. If she be
	All that is virtuous, save what thou dislikest,
	A poor physician's daughter, thou dislikest
	Of virtue for the name: but do not so:
	From lowest place when virtuous things proceed,
	The place is dignified by the doer's deed:
	Where great additions swell's, and virtue none,
	It is a dropsied honour. Good alone
	Is good without a name. Vileness is so:
	The property by what it is should go,
	Not by the title. She is young, wise, fair;
	In these to nature she's immediate heir,
	And these breed honour: that is honour's scorn,
	Which challenges itself as honour's born
	And is not like the sire: honours thrive,
	When rather from our acts we them derive
	Than our foregoers: the mere word's a slave
	Debosh'd on every tomb, on every grave
	A lying trophy, and as oft is dumb
	Where dust and damn'd oblivion is the tomb
	Of honour'd bones indeed. What should be said?
	If thou canst like this creature as a maid,
	I can create the rest: virtue and she
	Is her own dower; honour and wealth from me.

BERTRAM	I cannot love her, nor will strive to do't.

KING	Thou wrong'st thyself, if thou shouldst strive to choose.

HELENA	That you are well restored, my lord, I'm glad:
	Let the rest go.

KING	My honour's at the stake; which to defeat,
	I must produce my power. Here, take her hand,
	Proud scornful boy, unworthy this good gift;
	That dost in vile misprision shackle up
	My love and her desert; that canst not dream,
	We, poising us in her defective scale,
	Shall weigh thee to the beam; that wilt not know,
	It is in us to plant thine honour where
	We please to have it grow. Cheque thy contempt:
	Obey our will, which travails in thy good:
	Believe not thy disdain, but presently
	Do thine own fortunes that obedient right
	Which both thy duty owes and our power claims;
	Or I will throw thee from my care for ever
	Into the staggers and the careless lapse
	Of youth and ignorance; both my revenge and hate
	Loosing upon thee, in the name of justice,
	Without all terms of pity. Speak; thine answer.

BERTRAM	Pardon, my gracious lord; for I submit
	My fancy to your eyes: when I consider
	What great creation and what dole of honour
	Flies where you bid it, I find that she, which late
	Was in my nobler thoughts most base, is now
	The praised of the king; who, so ennobled,
	Is as 'twere born so.

KING	Take her by the hand,
	And tell her she is thine: to whom I promise
	A counterpoise, if not to thy estate
	A balance more replete.

BERTRAM	I take her hand.

KING	Good fortune and the favour of the king
	Smile upon this contract; whose ceremony
	Shall seem expedient on the now-born brief,
	And be perform'd to-night: the solemn feast
	Shall more attend upon the coming space,
	Expecting absent friends. As thou lovest her,
	Thy love's to me religious; else, does err.

	[Exeunt all but LAFEU and PAROLLES]

LAFEU	[Advancing]  Do you hear, monsieur? a word with you.

PAROLLES	Your pleasure, sir?

LAFEU	Your lord and master did well to make his
	recantation.

PAROLLES	Recantation! My lord! my master!

LAFEU	Ay; is it not a language I speak?

PAROLLES	A most harsh one, and not to be understood without
	bloody succeeding. My master!

LAFEU	Are you companion to the Count Rousillon?

PAROLLES	To any count, to all counts, to what is man.

LAFEU	To what is count's man: count's master is of
	another style.

PAROLLES	You are too old, sir; let it satisfy you, you are too old.

LAFEU	I must tell thee, sirrah, I write man; to which
	title age cannot bring thee.

PAROLLES	What I dare too well do, I dare not do.

LAFEU	I did think thee, for two ordinaries, to be a pretty
	wise fellow; thou didst make tolerable vent of thy
	travel; it might pass: yet the scarfs and the
	bannerets about thee did manifoldly dissuade me from
	believing thee a vessel of too great a burthen. I
	have now found thee; when I lose thee again, I care
	not: yet art thou good for nothing but taking up; and
	that thou't scarce worth.

PAROLLES	Hadst thou not the privilege of antiquity upon thee,--

LAFEU	Do not plunge thyself too far in anger, lest thou
	hasten thy trial; which if--Lord have mercy on thee
	for a hen! So, my good window of lattice, fare thee
	well: thy casement I need not open, for I look
	through thee. Give me thy hand.

PAROLLES	My lord, you give me most egregious indignity.

LAFEU	Ay, with all my heart; and thou art worthy of it.

PAROLLES	I have not, my lord, deserved it.

LAFEU	Yes, good faith, every dram of it; and I will not
	bate thee a scruple.

PAROLLES	Well, I shall be wiser.

LAFEU	Even as soon as thou canst, for thou hast to pull at
	a smack o' the contrary. If ever thou be'st bound
	in thy scarf and beaten, thou shalt find what it is
	to be proud of thy bondage. I have a desire to hold
	my acquaintance with thee, or rather my knowledge,
	that I may say in the default, he is a man I know.

PAROLLES	My lord, you do me most insupportable vexation.

LAFEU	I would it were hell-pains for thy sake, and my poor
	doing eternal: for doing I am past: as I will by
	thee, in what motion age will give me leave.

	[Exit]

PAROLLES	Well, thou hast a son shall take this disgrace off
	me; scurvy, old, filthy, scurvy lord! Well, I must
	be patient; there is no fettering of authority.
	I'll beat him, by my life, if I can meet him with
	any convenience, an he were double and double a
	lord. I'll have no more pity of his age than I
	would of--I'll beat him, an if I could but meet him again.

	[Re-enter LAFEU]

LAFEU	Sirrah, your lord and master's married; there's news
	for you: you have a new mistress.

PAROLLES	I most unfeignedly beseech your lordship to make
	some reservation of your wrongs: he is my good
	lord: whom I serve above is my master.

LAFEU	Who? God?

PAROLLES	Ay, sir.

LAFEU	The devil it is that's thy master. Why dost thou
	garter up thy arms o' this fashion? dost make hose of
	sleeves? do other servants so? Thou wert best set
	thy lower part where thy nose stands. By mine
	honour, if I were but two hours younger, I'ld beat
	thee: methinks, thou art a general offence, and
	every man should beat thee: I think thou wast
	created for men to breathe themselves upon thee.

PAROLLES	This is hard and undeserved measure, my lord.

LAFEU	Go to, sir; you were beaten in Italy for picking a
	kernel out of a pomegranate; you are a vagabond and
	no true traveller: you are more saucy with lords
	and honourable personages than the commission of your
	birth and virtue gives you heraldry. You are not
	worth another word, else I'ld call you knave. I leave you.

	[Exit]

PAROLLES	Good, very good; it is so then: good, very good;
	let it be concealed awhile.

	[Re-enter BERTRAM]

BERTRAM	Undone, and forfeited to cares for ever!

PAROLLES	What's the matter, sweet-heart?

BERTRAM	Although before the solemn priest I have sworn,
	I will not bed her.

PAROLLES	What, what, sweet-heart?

BERTRAM	O my Parolles, they have married me!
	I'll to the Tuscan wars, and never bed her.

PAROLLES	France is a dog-hole, and it no more merits
	The tread of a man's foot: to the wars!

BERTRAM	There's letters from my mother: what the import is,
	I know not yet.

PAROLLES	Ay, that would be known. To the wars, my boy, to the wars!
	He wears his honour in a box unseen,
	That hugs his kicky-wicky here at home,
	Spending his manly marrow in her arms,
	Which should sustain the bound and high curvet
	Of Mars's fiery steed. To other regions
	France is a stable; we that dwell in't jades;
	Therefore, to the war!

BERTRAM	It shall be so: I'll send her to my house,
	Acquaint my mother with my hate to her,
	And wherefore I am fled; write to the king
	That which I durst not speak; his present gift
	Shall furnish me to those Italian fields,
	Where noble fellows strike: war is no strife
	To the dark house and the detested wife.

PAROLLES	Will this capriccio hold in thee? art sure?

BERTRAM	Go with me to my chamber, and advise me.
	I'll send her straight away: to-morrow
	I'll to the wars, she to her single sorrow.

PAROLLES	Why, these balls bound; there's noise in it. 'Tis hard:
	A young man married is a man that's marr'd:
	Therefore away, and leave her bravely; go:
	The king has done you wrong: but, hush, 'tis so.

	[Exeunt]




	ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL


ACT II



SCENE IV	Paris. The KING's palace.


	[Enter HELENA and Clown]

HELENA	My mother greets me kindly; is she well?

Clown	She is not well; but yet she has her health: she's
	very merry; but yet she is not well: but thanks be
	given, she's very well and wants nothing i', the
	world; but yet she is not well.

HELENA	If she be very well, what does she ail, that she's
	not very well?

Clown	Truly, she's very well indeed, but for two things.

HELENA	What two things?

Clown	One, that she's not in heaven, whither God send her
	quickly! the other that she's in earth, from whence
	God send her quickly!

	[Enter PAROLLES]

PAROLLES	Bless you, my fortunate lady!

HELENA	I hope, sir, I have your good will to have mine own
	good fortunes.

PAROLLES	You had my prayers to lead them on; and to keep them
	on, have them still. O, my knave, how does my old lady?

Clown	So that you had her wrinkles and I her money,
	I would she did as you say.

PAROLLES	Why, I say nothing.

Clown	Marry, you are the wiser man; for many a man's
	tongue shakes out his master's undoing: to say
	nothing, to do nothing, to know nothing, and to have
	nothing, is to be a great part of your title; which
	is within a very little of nothing.

PAROLLES	Away! thou'rt a knave.

Clown	You should have said, sir, before a knave thou'rt a
	knave; that's, before me thou'rt a knave: this had
	been truth, sir.

PAROLLES	Go to, thou art a witty fool; I have found thee.

Clown	Did you find me in yourself, sir? or were you
	taught to find me? The search, sir, was profitable;
	and much fool may you find in you, even to the
	world's pleasure and the increase of laughter.

PAROLLES	A good knave, i' faith, and well fed.
	Madam, my lord will go away to-night;
	A very serious business calls on him.
	The great prerogative and rite of love,
	Which, as your due, time claims, he does acknowledge;
	But puts it off to a compell'd restraint;
	Whose want, and whose delay, is strew'd with sweets,
	Which they distil now in the curbed time,
	To make the coming hour o'erflow with joy
	And pleasure drown the brim.

HELENA	What's his will else?

PAROLLES	That you will take your instant leave o' the king
	And make this haste as your own good proceeding,
	Strengthen'd with what apology you think
	May make it probable need.

HELENA	What more commands he?

PAROLLES	That, having this obtain'd, you presently
	Attend his further pleasure.

HELENA	In every thing I wait upon his will.

PAROLLES	I shall report it so.

HELENA	I pray you.

	[Exit PAROLLES]

	Come, sirrah.

	[Exeunt]




	ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL


ACT II



SCENE V	Paris. The KING's palace.


	[Enter LAFEU and BERTRAM]

LAFEU	But I hope your lordship thinks not him a soldier.

BERTRAM	Yes, my lord, and of very valiant approof.

LAFEU	You have it from his own deliverance.

BERTRAM	And by other warranted testimony.

LAFEU	Then my dial goes not true: I took this lark for a bunting.

BERTRAM	I do assure you, my lord, he is very great in
	knowledge and accordingly valiant.

LAFEU	I have then sinned against his experience and
	transgressed against his valour; and my state that
	way is dangerous, since I cannot yet find in my
	heart to repent. Here he comes: I pray you, make
	us friends; I will pursue the amity.

	[Enter PAROLLES]

PAROLLES	[To BERTRAM]  These things shall be done, sir.

LAFEU	Pray you, sir, who's his tailor?

PAROLLES	Sir?

LAFEU	O, I know him well, I, sir; he, sir, 's a good
	workman, a very good tailor.

BERTRAM	[Aside to PAROLLES]  Is she gone to the king?

PAROLLES	She is.

BERTRAM	Will she away to-night?

PAROLLES	As you'll have her.

BERTRAM	I have writ my letters, casketed my treasure,
	Given order for our horses; and to-night,
	When I should take possession of the bride,
	End ere I do begin.

LAFEU	A good traveller is something at the latter end of a
	dinner; but one that lies three thirds and uses a
	known truth to pass a thousand nothings with, should
	be once heard and thrice beaten. God save you, captain.

BERTRAM	Is there any unkindness between my lord and you, monsieur?

PAROLLES	I know not how I have deserved to run into my lord's
	displeasure.

LAFEU	You have made shift to run into 't, boots and spurs
	and all, like him that leaped into the custard; and
	out of it you'll run again, rather than suffer
	question for your residence.

BERTRAM	It may be you have mistaken him, my lord.

LAFEU	And shall do so ever, though I took him at 's
	prayers. Fare you well, my lord; and believe this
	of me, there can be no kernel in this light nut; the
	soul of this man is his clothes. Trust him not in
	matter of heavy consequence; I have kept of them
	tame, and know their natures. Farewell, monsieur:
	I have spoken better of you than you have or will to
	deserve at my hand; but we must do good against evil.

	[Exit]

PAROLLES	An idle lord. I swear.

BERTRAM	I think so.

PAROLLES	Why, do you not know him?

BERTRAM	Yes, I do know him well, and common speech
	Gives him a worthy pass. Here comes my clog.

	[Enter HELENA]

HELENA	I have, sir, as I was commanded from you,
	Spoke with the king and have procured his leave
	For present parting; only he desires
	Some private speech with you.

BERTRAM	I shall obey his will.
	You must not marvel, Helen, at my course,
	Which holds not colour with the time, nor does
	The ministration and required office
	On my particular. Prepared I was not
	For such a business; therefore am I found
	So much unsettled: this drives me to entreat you
	That presently you take our way for home;
	And rather muse than ask why I entreat you,
	For my respects are better than they seem
	And my appointments have in them a need
	Greater than shows itself at the first view
	To you that know them not. This to my mother:

	[Giving a letter]

	'Twill be two days ere I shall see you, so
	I leave you to your wisdom.

HELENA	Sir, I can nothing say,
	But that I am your most obedient servant.

BERTRAM	Come, come, no more of that.

HELENA	And ever shall
	With true observance seek to eke out that
	Wherein toward me my homely stars have fail'd
	To equal my great fortune.

BERTRAM	Let that go:
	My haste is very great: farewell; hie home.

HELENA	Pray, sir, your pardon.

BERTRAM	Well, what would you say?

HELENA	I am not worthy of the wealth I owe,
	Nor dare I say 'tis mine, and yet it is;
	But, like a timorous thief, most fain would steal
	What law does vouch mine own.

BERTRAM	What would you have?

HELENA	Something; and scarce so much: nothing, indeed.
	I would not tell you what I would, my lord:
	Faith yes;
	Strangers and foes do sunder, and not kiss.

BERTRAM	I pray you, stay not, but in haste to horse.

HELENA	I shall not break your bidding, good my lord.

BERTRAM	Where are my other men, monsieur? Farewell.

	[Exit HELENA]

	Go thou toward home; where I will never come
	Whilst I can shake my sword or hear the drum.
	Away, and for our flight.

PAROLLES	Bravely, coragio!

	[Exeunt]




	ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL


ACT III



SCENE I	Florence. The DUKE's palace.


	[Flourish. Enter the DUKE of Florence attended;
	the two Frenchmen, with a troop of soldiers.

DUKE	So that from point to point now have you heard
	The fundamental reasons of this war,
	Whose great decision hath much blood let forth
	And more thirsts after.

First Lord	Holy seems the quarrel
	Upon your grace's part; black and fearful
	On the opposer.

DUKE	Therefore we marvel much our cousin France
	Would in so just a business shut his bosom
	Against our borrowing prayers.

Second Lord	Good my lord,
	The reasons of our state I cannot yield,
	But like a common and an outward man,
	That the great figure of a council frames
	By self-unable motion: therefore dare not
	Say what I think of it, since I have found
	Myself in my incertain grounds to fail
	As often as I guess'd.

DUKE	Be it his pleasure.

First Lord	But I am sure the younger of our nature,
	That surfeit on their ease, will day by day
	Come here for physic.

DUKE	Welcome shall they be;
	And all the honours that can fly from us
	Shall on them settle. You know your places well;
	When better fall, for your avails they fell:
	To-morrow to the field.

	[Flourish. Exeunt]




	ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL


ACT III



SCENE II	Rousillon. The COUNT's palace.


	[Enter COUNTESS and Clown]

COUNTESS	It hath happened all as I would have had it, save
	that he comes not along with her.

Clown	By my troth, I take my young lord to be a very
	melancholy man.

COUNTESS	By what observance, I pray you?

Clown	Why, he will look upon his boot and sing; mend the
	ruff and sing; ask questions and sing; pick his
	teeth and sing. I know a man that had this trick of
	melancholy sold a goodly manor for a song.

COUNTESS	Let me see what he writes, and when he means to come.

	[Opening a letter]

Clown	I have no mind to Isbel since I was at court: our
	old ling and our Isbels o' the country are nothing
	like your old ling and your Isbels o' the court:
	the brains of my Cupid's knocked out, and I begin to
	love, as an old man loves money, with no stomach.

COUNTESS	What have we here?

Clown	E'en that you have there.

	[Exit]

COUNTESS	[Reads]  I have sent you a daughter-in-law: she hath
	recovered the king, and undone me. I have wedded
	her, not bedded her; and sworn to make the 'not'
	eternal. You shall hear I am run away: know it
	before the report come. If there be breadth enough
	in the world, I will hold a long distance. My duty
	to you.	Your unfortunate son,
			     BERTRAM.
	This is not well, rash and unbridled boy.
	To fly the favours of so good a king;
	To pluck his indignation on thy head
	By the misprising of a maid too virtuous
	For the contempt of empire.

	[Re-enter Clown]

Clown	O madam, yonder is heavy news within between two
	soldiers and my young lady!

COUNTESS	What is the matter?

Clown	Nay, there is some comfort in the news, some
	comfort; your son will not be killed so soon as I
	thought he would.

COUNTESS	Why should he be killed?

Clown	So say I, madam, if he run away, as I hear he does:
	the danger is in standing to't; that's the loss of
	men, though it be the getting of children. Here
	they come will tell you more: for my part, I only
	hear your son was run away.

	[Exit]

	[Enter HELENA, and two Gentlemen]

First Gentleman	Save you, good madam.

HELENA	Madam, my lord is gone, for ever gone.

Second Gentleman	Do not say so.

COUNTESS	Think upon patience. Pray you, gentlemen,
	I have felt so many quirks of joy and grief,
	That the first face of neither, on the start,
	Can woman me unto't: where is my son, I pray you?

Second Gentleman	Madam, he's gone to serve the duke of Florence:
	We met him thitherward; for thence we came,
	And, after some dispatch in hand at court,
	Thither we bend again.

HELENA	Look on his letter, madam; here's my passport.

	[Reads]

	When thou canst get the ring upon my finger which
	never shall come off, and show me a child begotten
	of thy body that I am father to, then call me
	husband: but in such a 'then' I write a 'never.'
	This is a dreadful sentence.

COUNTESS	Brought you this letter, gentlemen?

First Gentleman	Ay, madam;
	And for the contents' sake are sorry for our pain.

COUNTESS	I prithee, lady, have a better cheer;
	If thou engrossest all the griefs are thine,
	Thou robb'st me of a moiety: he was my son;
	But I do wash his name out of my blood,
	And thou art all my child. Towards Florence is he?

Second Gentleman	Ay, madam.

COUNTESS	         And to be a soldier?

Second Gentleman	Such is his noble purpose; and believe 't,
	The duke will lay upon him all the honour
	That good convenience claims.

COUNTESS	Return you thither?

First Gentleman	Ay, madam, with the swiftest wing of speed.

HELENA	[Reads]  Till I have no wife I have nothing in France.
	'Tis bitter.

COUNTESS	                  Find you that there?

HELENA	Ay, madam.

First Gentleman	'Tis but the boldness of his hand, haply, which his
	heart was not consenting to.

COUNTESS	Nothing in France, until he have no wife!
	There's nothing here that is too good for him
	But only she; and she deserves a lord
	That twenty such rude boys might tend upon
	And call her hourly mistress. Who was with him?

First Gentleman	A servant only, and a gentleman
	Which I have sometime known.

COUNTESS	Parolles, was it not?

First Gentleman	Ay, my good lady, he.

COUNTESS	A very tainted fellow, and full of wickedness.
	My son corrupts a well-derived nature
	With his inducement.

First Gentleman	Indeed, good lady,
	The fellow has a deal of that too much,
	Which holds him much to have.

COUNTESS	You're welcome, gentlemen.
	I will entreat you, when you see my son,
	To tell him that his sword can never win
	The honour that he loses: more I'll entreat you
	Written to bear along.

Second Gentleman	We serve you, madam,
	In that and all your worthiest affairs.

COUNTESS	Not so, but as we change our courtesies.
	Will you draw near!

	[Exeunt COUNTESS and Gentlemen]

HELENA	'Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France.'
	Nothing in France, until he has no wife!
	Thou shalt have none, Rousillon, none in France;
	Then hast thou all again. Poor lord! is't I
	That chase thee from thy country and expose
	Those tender limbs of thine to the event
	Of the none-sparing war? and is it I
	That drive thee from the sportive court, where thou
	Wast shot at with fair eyes, to be the mark
	Of smoky muskets? O you leaden messengers,
	That ride upon the violent speed of fire,
	Fly with false aim; move the still-peering air,
	That sings with piercing; do not touch my lord.
	Whoever shoots at him, I set him there;
	Whoever charges on his forward breast,
	I am the caitiff that do hold him to't;
	And, though I kill him not, I am the cause
	His death was so effected: better 'twere
	I met the ravin lion when he roar'd
	With sharp constraint of hunger; better 'twere
	That all the miseries which nature owes
	Were mine at once. No, come thou home, Rousillon,
	Whence honour but of danger wins a scar,
	As oft it loses all: I will be gone;
	My being here it is that holds thee hence:
	Shall I stay here to do't?  no, no, although
	The air of paradise did fan the house
	And angels officed all: I will be gone,
	That pitiful rumour may report my flight,
	To consolate thine ear. Come, night; end, day!
	For with the dark, poor thief, I'll steal away.

	[Exit]




	ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL


ACT III



SCENE III	Florence. Before the DUKE's palace.


	[Flourish. Enter the DUKE of Florence, BERTRAM,
	PAROLLES, Soldiers, Drum, and Trumpets]

DUKE	The general of our horse thou art; and we,
	Great in our hope, lay our best love and credence
	Upon thy promising fortune.

BERTRAM	Sir, it is
	A charge too heavy for my strength, but yet
	We'll strive to bear it for your worthy sake
	To the extreme edge of hazard.

DUKE	Then go thou forth;
	And fortune play upon thy prosperous helm,
	As thy auspicious mistress!

BERTRAM	This very day,
	Great Mars, I put myself into thy file:
	Make me but like my thoughts, and I shall prove
	A lover of thy drum, hater of love.

	[Exeunt]




	ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL


ACT III



SCENE IV	Rousillon. The COUNT's palace.


	[Enter COUNTESS and Steward]

COUNTESS	Alas! and would you take the letter of her?
	Might you not know she would do as she has done,
	By sending me a letter? Read it again.

Steward	[Reads]

	I am Saint Jaques' pilgrim, thither gone:
	Ambitious love hath so in me offended,
	That barefoot plod I the cold ground upon,
	With sainted vow my faults to have amended.
	Write, write, that from the bloody course of war
	My dearest master, your dear son, may hie:
	Bless him at home in peace, whilst I from far
	His name with zealous fervor sanctify:
	His taken labours bid him me forgive;
	I, his despiteful Juno, sent him forth
	From courtly friends, with camping foes to live,
	Where death and danger dogs the heels of worth:
	He is too good and fair for death and me:
	Whom I myself embrace, to set him free.

COUNTESS	Ah, what sharp stings are in her mildest words!
	Rinaldo, you did never lack advice so much,
	As letting her pass so: had I spoke with her,
	I could have well diverted her intents,
	Which thus she hath prevented.

Steward	Pardon me, madam:
	If I had given you this at over-night,
	She might have been o'erta'en; and yet she writes,
	Pursuit would be but vain.

COUNTESS	What angel shall
	Bless this unworthy husband? he cannot thrive,
	Unless her prayers, whom heaven delights to hear
	And loves to grant, reprieve him from the wrath
	Of greatest justice. Write, write, Rinaldo,
	To this unworthy husband of his wife;
	Let every word weigh heavy of her worth
	That he does weigh too light: my greatest grief.
	Though little he do feel it, set down sharply.
	Dispatch the most convenient messenger:
	When haply he shall hear that she is gone,
	He will return; and hope I may that she,
	Hearing so much, will speed her foot again,
	Led hither by pure love: which of them both
	Is dearest to me. I have no skill in sense
	To make distinction: provide this messenger:
	My heart is heavy and mine age is weak;
	Grief would have tears, and sorrow bids me speak.

	[Exeunt]




	ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL


ACT III



SCENE V	Florence. Without the walls. A tucket afar off.


	[Enter an old Widow of Florence, DIANA, VIOLENTA,
	and MARIANA, with other Citizens]

Widow	Nay, come; for if they do approach the city, we
	shall lose all the sight.

DIANA	They say the French count has done most honourable service.

Widow	It is reported that he has taken their greatest
	commander; and that with his own hand he slew the
	duke's brother.

	[Tucket]

	We have lost our labour; they are gone a contrary
	way: hark! you may know by their trumpets.

MARIANA	Come, let's return again, and suffice ourselves with
	the report of it. Well, Diana, take heed of this
	French earl: the honour of a maid is her name; and
	no legacy is so rich as honesty.

Widow	I have told my neighbour how you have been solicited
	by a gentleman his companion.

MARIANA	I know that knave; hang him! one Parolles: a
	filthy officer he is in those suggestions for the
	young earl. Beware of them, Diana; their promises,
	enticements, oaths, tokens, and all these engines of
	lust, are not the things they go under: many a maid
	hath been seduced by them; and the misery is,
	example, that so terrible shows in the wreck of
	maidenhood, cannot for all that dissuade succession,
	but that they are limed with the twigs that threaten
	them. I hope I need not to advise you further; but
	I hope your own grace will keep you where you are,
	though there were no further danger known but the
	modesty which is so lost.

DIANA	You shall not need to fear me.

Widow	I hope so.

	[Enter HELENA, disguised like a Pilgrim]

	Look, here comes a pilgrim: I know she will lie at
	my house; thither they send one another: I'll
	question her. God save you, pilgrim! whither are you bound?

HELENA	To Saint Jaques le Grand.
	Where do the palmers lodge, I do beseech you?

Widow	At the Saint Francis here beside the port.

HELENA	Is this the way?

Widow	Ay, marry, is't.

	[A march afar]

	Hark you! they come this way.
	If you will tarry, holy pilgrim,
	But till the troops come by,
	I will conduct you where you shall be lodged;
	The rather, for I think I know your hostess
	As ample as myself.

HELENA	Is it yourself?

Widow	If you shall please so, pilgrim.

HELENA	I thank you, and will stay upon your leisure.

Widow	You came, I think, from France?

HELENA	I did so.

Widow	Here you shall see a countryman of yours
	That has done worthy service.

HELENA	His name, I pray you.

DIANA	The Count Rousillon: know you such a one?

HELENA	But by the ear, that hears most nobly of him:
	His face I know not.

DIANA	Whatsome'er he is,
	He's bravely taken here. He stole from France,
	As 'tis reported, for the king had married him
	Against his liking: think you it is so?

HELENA	Ay, surely, mere the truth: I know his lady.

DIANA	There is a gentleman that serves the count
	Reports but coarsely of her.

HELENA	What's his name?

DIANA	Monsieur Parolles.

HELENA	                  O, I believe with him,
	In argument of praise, or to the worth
	Of the great count himself, she is too mean
	To have her name repeated: all her deserving
	Is a reserved honesty, and that
	I have not heard examined.

DIANA	Alas, poor lady!
	'Tis a hard bondage to become the wife
	Of a detesting lord.

Widow	I warrant, good creature, wheresoe'er she is,
	Her heart weighs sadly: this young maid might do her
	A shrewd turn, if she pleased.

HELENA	How do you mean?
	May be the amorous count solicits her
	In the unlawful purpose.

Widow	He does indeed;
	And brokes with all that can in such a suit
	Corrupt the tender honour of a maid:
	But she is arm'd for him and keeps her guard
	In honestest defence.

MARIANA	The gods forbid else!

Widow	So, now they come:

	[Drum and Colours]

	[Enter BERTRAM, PAROLLES, and the whole army]

	That is Antonio, the duke's eldest son;
	That, Escalus.

HELENA	                  Which is the Frenchman?

DIANA	He;
	That with the plume: 'tis a most gallant fellow.
	I would he loved his wife: if he were honester
	He were much goodlier: is't not a handsome gentleman?

HELENA	I like him well.

DIANA	'Tis pity he is not honest: yond's that same knave
	That leads him to these places: were I his lady,
	I would Poison that vile rascal.

HELENA	Which is he?

DIANA	That jack-an-apes with scarfs: why is he melancholy?

HELENA	Perchance he's hurt i' the battle.

PAROLLES	Lose our drum! well.

MARIANA	He's shrewdly vexed at something: look, he has spied us.

Widow	Marry, hang you!

MARIANA	And your courtesy, for a ring-carrier!

	[Exeunt BERTRAM, PAROLLES, and army]

Widow	The troop is past. Come, pilgrim, I will bring you
	Where you shall host: of enjoin'd penitents
	There's four or five, to great Saint Jaques bound,
	Already at my house.

HELENA	I humbly thank you:
	Please it this matron and this gentle maid
	To eat with us to-night, the charge and thanking
	Shall be for me; and, to requite you further,
	I will bestow some precepts of this virgin
	Worthy the note.

BOTH	                  We'll take your offer kindly.

	[Exeunt]




	ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL


ACT III



SCENE VI	Camp before Florence.


	[Enter BERTRAM and the two French Lords]

Second Lord	Nay, good my lord, put him to't; let him have his
	way.

First Lord	If your lordship find him not a hilding, hold me no
	more in your respect.

Second Lord	On my life, my lord, a bubble.

BERTRAM	Do you think I am so far deceived in him?

Second Lord	Believe it, my lord, in mine own direct knowledge,
	without any malice, but to speak of him as my
	kinsman, he's a most notable coward, an infinite and
	endless liar, an hourly promise-breaker, the owner
	of no one good quality worthy your lordship's
	entertainment.

First Lord	It were fit you knew him; lest, reposing too far in
	his virtue, which he hath not, he might at some
	great and trusty business in a main danger fail you.

BERTRAM	I would I knew in what particular action to try him.

First Lord	None better than to let him fetch off his drum,
	which you hear him so confidently undertake to do.

Second Lord	I, with a troop of Florentines, will suddenly
	surprise him; such I will have, whom I am sure he
	knows not from the enemy: we will bind and hoodwink
	him so, that he shall suppose no other but that he
	is carried into the leaguer of the adversaries, when
	we bring him to our own tents. Be but your lordship
	present at his examination: if he do not, for the
	promise of his life and in the highest compulsion of
	base fear, offer to betray you and deliver all the
	intelligence in his power against you, and that with
	the divine forfeit of his soul upon oath, never
	trust my judgment in any thing.

First Lord	O, for the love of laughter, let him fetch his drum;
	he says he has a stratagem for't: when your
	lordship sees the bottom of his success in't, and to
	what metal this counterfeit lump of ore will be
	melted, if you give him not John Drum's
	entertainment, your inclining cannot be removed.
	Here he comes.

	[Enter PAROLLES]

Second Lord	[Aside to BERTRAM]  O, for the love of laughter,
	hinder not the honour of his design: let him fetch
	off his drum in any hand.

BERTRAM	How now, monsieur! this drum sticks sorely in your
	disposition.

First Lord	A pox on't, let it go; 'tis but a drum.

PAROLLES	'But a drum'! is't 'but a drum'? A drum so lost!
	There was excellent command,--to charge in with our
	horse upon our own wings, and to rend our own soldiers!

First Lord	That was not to be blamed in the command of the
	service: it was a disaster of war that Caesar
	himself could not have prevented, if he had been
	there to command.

BERTRAM	Well, we cannot greatly condemn our success: some
	dishonour we had in the loss of that drum; but it is
	not to be recovered.

PAROLLES	It might have been recovered.

BERTRAM	It might; but it is not now.

PAROLLES	It is to be recovered: but that the merit of
	service is seldom attributed to the true and exact
	performer, I would have that drum or another, or
	'hic jacet.'

BERTRAM	Why, if you have a stomach, to't, monsieur: if you
	think your mystery in stratagem can bring this
	instrument of honour again into his native quarter,
	be magnanimous in the enterprise and go on; I will
	grace the attempt for a worthy exploit: if you
	speed well in it, the duke shall both speak of it.
	and extend to you what further becomes his
	greatness, even to the utmost syllable of your
	worthiness.

PAROLLES	By the hand of a soldier, I will undertake it.

BERTRAM	But you must not now slumber in it.

PAROLLES	I'll about it this evening: and I will presently
	pen down my dilemmas, encourage myself in my
	certainty, put myself into my mortal preparation;
	and by midnight look to hear further from me.

BERTRAM	May I be bold to acquaint his grace you are gone about it?

PAROLLES	I know not what the success will be, my lord; but
	the attempt I vow.

BERTRAM	I know thou'rt valiant; and, to the possibility of
	thy soldiership, will subscribe for thee. Farewell.

PAROLLES	I love not many words.

	[Exit]

Second Lord	No more than a fish loves water. Is not this a
	strange fellow, my lord, that so confidently seems
	to undertake this business, which he knows is not to
	be done; damns himself to do and dares better be
	damned than to do't?

First Lord	You do not know him, my lord, as we do: certain it
	is that he will steal himself into a man's favour and
	for a week escape a great deal of discoveries; but
	when you find him out, you have him ever after.

BERTRAM	Why, do you think he will make no deed at all of
	this that so seriously he does address himself unto?

Second Lord	None in the world; but return with an invention and
	clap upon you two or three probable lies: but we
	have almost embossed him; you shall see his fall
	to-night; for indeed he is not for your lordship's respect.

First Lord	We'll make you some sport with the fox ere we case
	him. He was first smoked by the old lord Lafeu:
	when his disguise and he is parted, tell me what a
	sprat you shall find him; which you shall see this
	very night.

Second Lord	I must go look my twigs: he shall be caught.

BERTRAM	Your brother he shall go along with me.

Second Lord	As't please your lordship: I'll leave you.

	[Exit]

BERTRAM	Now will I lead you to the house, and show you
	The lass I spoke of.

First Lord	But you say she's honest.

BERTRAM	That's all the fault: I spoke with her but once
	And found her wondrous cold; but I sent to her,
	By this same coxcomb that we have i' the wind,
	Tokens and letters which she did re-send;
	And this is all I have done. She's a fair creature:
	Will you go see her?

First Lord	With all my heart, my lord.

	[Exeunt]




	ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL


ACT III



SCENE VII	Florence. The Widow's house.


	[Enter HELENA and Widow]

HELENA	If you misdoubt me that I am not she,
	I know not how I shall assure you further,
	But I shall lose the grounds I work upon.

Widow	Though my estate be fallen, I was well born,
	Nothing acquainted with these businesses;
	And would not put my reputation now
	In any staining act.

HELENA	Nor would I wish you.
	First, give me trust, the count he is my husband,
	And what to your sworn counsel I have spoken
	Is so from word to word; and then you cannot,
	By the good aid that I of you shall borrow,
	Err in bestowing it.

Widow	I should believe you:
	For you have show'd me that which well approves
	You're great in fortune.

HELENA	Take this purse of gold,
	And let me buy your friendly help thus far,
	Which I will over-pay and pay again
	When I have found it. The count he wooes your daughter,
	Lays down his wanton siege before her beauty,
	Resolved to carry her: let her in fine consent,
	As we'll direct her how 'tis best to bear it.
	Now his important blood will nought deny
	That she'll demand: a ring the county wears,
	That downward hath succeeded in his house
	From son to son, some four or five descents
	Since the first father wore it: this ring he holds
	In most rich choice; yet in his idle fire,
	To buy his will, it would not seem too dear,
	Howe'er repented after.

Widow	Now I see
	The bottom of your purpose.

HELENA	You see it lawful, then: it is no more,
	But that your daughter, ere she seems as won,
	Desires this ring; appoints him an encounter;
	In fine, delivers me to fill the time,
	Herself most chastely absent: after this,
	To marry her, I'll add three thousand crowns
	To what is passed already.

Widow	I have yielded:
	Instruct my daughter how she shall persever,
	That time and place with this deceit so lawful
	May prove coherent. Every night he comes
	With musics of all sorts and songs composed
	To her unworthiness: it nothing steads us
	To chide him from our eaves; for he persists
	As if his life lay on't.

HELENA	Why then to-night
	Let us assay our plot; which, if it speed,
	Is wicked meaning in a lawful deed
	And lawful meaning in a lawful act,
	Where both not sin, and yet a sinful fact:
	But let's about it.

	[Exeunt]




	ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL


ACT IV



SCENE I	Without the Florentine camp.


	[Enter Second French Lord, with five or six other
	Soldiers in ambush]

Second Lord	He can come no other way but by this hedge-corner.
	When you sally upon him, speak what terrible
	language you will: though you understand it not
	yourselves, no matter; for we must not seem to
	understand him, unless some one among us whom we
	must produce for an interpreter.

First Soldier	Good captain, let me be the interpreter.

Second Lord	Art not acquainted with him? knows he not thy voice?

First Soldier	No, sir, I warrant you.

Second Lord	But what linsey-woolsey hast thou to speak to us again?

First Soldier	E'en such as you speak to me.

Second Lord	He must think us some band of strangers i' the
	adversary's entertainment. Now he hath a smack of
	all neighbouring languages; therefore we must every
	one be a man of his own fancy, not to know what we
	speak one to another; so we seem to know, is to
	know straight our purpose: choughs' language,
	gabble enough, and good enough. As for you,
	interpreter, you must seem very politic. But couch,
	ho! here he comes, to beguile two hours in a sleep,
	and then to return and swear the lies he forges.

	[Enter PAROLLES]

PAROLLES	Ten o'clock: within these three hours 'twill be
	time enough to go home. What shall I say I have
	done? It must be a very plausive invention that
	carries it: they begin to smoke me; and disgraces
	have of late knocked too often at my door. I find
	my tongue is too foolhardy; but my heart hath the
	fear of Mars before it and of his creatures, not
	daring the reports of my tongue.

Second Lord	This is the first truth that e'er thine own tongue
	was guilty of.

PAROLLES	What the devil should move me to undertake the
	recovery of this drum, being not ignorant of the
	impossibility, and knowing I had no such purpose? I
	must give myself some hurts, and say I got them in
	exploit: yet slight ones will not carry it; they
	will say, 'Came you off with so little?' and great
	ones I dare not give. Wherefore, what's the
	instance? Tongue, I must put you into a
	butter-woman's mouth and buy myself another of
	Bajazet's mule, if you prattle me into these perils.

Second Lord	Is it possible he should know what he is, and be
	that he is?

PAROLLES	I would the cutting of my garments would serve the
	turn, or the breaking of my Spanish sword.

Second Lord	We cannot afford you so.

PAROLLES	Or the baring of my beard; and to say it was in
	stratagem.

Second Lord	'Twould not do.

PAROLLES	Or to drown my clothes, and say I was stripped.

Second Lord	Hardly serve.

PAROLLES	Though I swore I leaped from the window of the citadel.

Second Lord	How deep?

PAROLLES	Thirty fathom.

Second Lord	Three great oaths would scarce make that be believed.

PAROLLES	I would I had any drum of the enemy's: I would swear
	I recovered it.

Second Lord	You shall hear one anon.

PAROLLES	A drum now of the enemy's,--

	[Alarum within]

Second Lord	Throca movousus, cargo, cargo, cargo.

All	Cargo, cargo, cargo, villiando par corbo, cargo.

PAROLLES	O, ransom, ransom! do not hide mine eyes.

	[They seize and blindfold him]

First Soldier	Boskos thromuldo boskos.

PAROLLES	I know you are the Muskos' regiment:
	And I shall lose my life for want of language;
	If there be here German, or Dane, low Dutch,
	Italian, or French, let him speak to me; I'll
	Discover that which shall undo the Florentine.

First Soldier	Boskos vauvado: I understand thee, and can speak
	thy tongue. Kerely bonto, sir, betake thee to thy
	faith, for seventeen poniards are at thy bosom.

PAROLLES	O!

First Soldier	O, pray, pray, pray! Manka revania dulche.

Second Lord	Oscorbidulchos volivorco.

First Soldier	The general is content to spare thee yet;
	And, hoodwink'd as thou art, will lead thee on
	To gather from thee: haply thou mayst inform
	Something to save thy life.

PAROLLES	O, let me live!
	And all the secrets of our camp I'll show,
	Their force, their purposes; nay, I'll speak that
	Which you will wonder at.

First Soldier	But wilt thou faithfully?

PAROLLES	If I do not, damn me.

First Soldier	Acordo linta.
	Come on; thou art granted space.

	[Exit, with PAROLLES guarded. A short alarum within]

Second Lord	Go, tell the Count Rousillon, and my brother,
	We have caught the woodcock, and will keep him muffled
	Till we do hear from them.

Second Soldier	Captain, I will.

Second Lord	A' will betray us all unto ourselves:
	Inform on that.

Second Soldier	                  So I will, sir.

Second Lord	Till then I'll keep him dark and safely lock'd.

	[Exeunt]




	ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL


ACT IV



SCENE II	Florence. The Widow's house.


	[Enter BERTRAM and DIANA]

BERTRAM	They told me that your name was Fontibell.

DIANA	No, my good lord, Diana.

BERTRAM	Titled goddess;
	And worth it, with addition! But, fair soul,
	In your fine frame hath love no quality?
	If quick fire of youth light not your mind,
	You are no maiden, but a monument:
	When you are dead, you should be such a one
	As you are now, for you are cold and stem;
	And now you should be as your mother was
	When your sweet self was got.

DIANA	She then was honest.

BERTRAM	So should you be.

DIANA	No:
	My mother did but duty; such, my lord,
	As you owe to your wife.

BERTRAM	No more o' that;
	I prithee, do not strive against my vows:
	I was compell'd to her; but I love thee
	By love's own sweet constraint, and will for ever
	Do thee all rights of service.

DIANA	Ay, so you serve us
	Till we serve you; but when you have our roses,
	You barely leave our thorns to prick ourselves
	And mock us with our bareness.

BERTRAM	How have I sworn!

DIANA	'Tis not the many oaths that makes the truth,
	But the plain single vow that is vow'd true.
	What is not holy, that we swear not by,
	But take the High'st to witness: then, pray you, tell me,
	If I should swear by God's great attributes,
	I loved you dearly, would you believe my oaths,
	When I did love you ill? This has no holding,
	To swear by him whom I protest to love,
	That I will work against him: therefore your oaths
	Are words and poor conditions, but unseal'd,
	At least in my opinion.

BERTRAM	Change it, change it;
	Be not so holy-cruel: love is holy;
	And my integrity ne'er knew the crafts
	That you do charge men with. Stand no more off,
	But give thyself unto my sick desires,
	Who then recover: say thou art mine, and ever
	My love as it begins shall so persever.

DIANA	I see that men make ropes in such a scarre
	That we'll forsake ourselves. Give me that ring.

BERTRAM	I'll lend it thee, my dear; but have no power
	To give it from me.

DIANA	Will you not, my lord?

BERTRAM	It is an honour 'longing to our house,
	Bequeathed down from many ancestors;
	Which were the greatest obloquy i' the world
	In me to lose.

DIANA	                  Mine honour's such a ring:
	My chastity's the jewel of our house,
	Bequeathed down from many ancestors;
	Which were the greatest obloquy i' the world
	In me to lose: thus your own proper wisdom
	Brings in the champion Honour on my part,
	Against your vain assault.

BERTRAM	Here, take my ring:
	My house, mine honour, yea, my life, be thine,
	And I'll be bid by thee.

DIANA	When midnight comes, knock at my chamber-window:
	I'll order take my mother shall not hear.
	Now will I charge you in the band of truth,
	When you have conquer'd my yet maiden bed,
	Remain there but an hour, nor speak to me:
	My reasons are most strong; and you shall know them
	When back again this ring shall be deliver'd:
	And on your finger in the night I'll put
	Another ring, that what in time proceeds
	May token to the future our past deeds.
	Adieu, till then; then, fail not. You have won
	A wife of me, though there my hope be done.

BERTRAM	A heaven on earth I have won by wooing thee.

	[Exit]

DIANA	For which live long to thank both heaven and me!
	You may so in the end.
	My mother told me just how he would woo,
	As if she sat in 's heart; she says all men
	Have the like oaths: he had sworn to marry me
	When his wife's dead; therefore I'll lie with him
	When I am buried. Since Frenchmen are so braid,
	Marry that will, I live and die a maid:
	Only in this disguise I think't no sin
	To cozen him that would unjustly win.

	[Exit]




	ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL


ACT IV



SCENE III	The Florentine camp.


	[Enter the two French Lords and some two or three Soldiers]

First Lord	You have not given him his mother's letter?

Second Lord	I have delivered it an hour since: there is
	something in't that stings his nature; for on the
	reading it he changed almost into another man.

First Lord	He has much worthy blame laid upon him for shaking
	off so good a wife and so sweet a lady.

Second Lord	Especially he hath incurred the everlasting
	displeasure of the king, who had even tuned his
	bounty to sing happiness to him. I will tell you a
	thing, but you shall let it dwell darkly with you.

First Lord	When you have spoken it, 'tis dead, and I am the
	grave of it.

Second Lord	He hath perverted a young gentlewoman here in
	Florence, of a most chaste renown; and this night he
	fleshes his will in the spoil of her honour: he hath
	given her his monumental ring, and thinks himself
	made in the unchaste composition.

First Lord	Now, God delay our rebellion! as we are ourselves,
	what things are we!

Second Lord	Merely our own traitors. And as in the common course
	of all treasons, we still see them reveal
	themselves, till they attain to their abhorred ends,
	so he that in this action contrives against his own
	nobility, in his proper stream o'erflows himself.

First Lord	Is it not meant damnable in us, to be trumpeters of
	our unlawful intents? We shall not then have his
	company to-night?

Second Lord	Not till after midnight; for he is dieted to his hour.

First Lord	That approaches apace; I would gladly have him see
	his company anatomized, that he might take a measure
	of his own judgments, wherein so curiously he had
	set this counterfeit.

Second Lord	We will not meddle with him till he come; for his
	presence must be the whip of the other.

First Lord	In the mean time, what hear you of these wars?

Second Lord	I hear there is an overture of peace.

First Lord	Nay, I assure you, a peace concluded.

Second Lord	What will Count Rousillon do then? will he travel
	higher, or return again into France?

First Lord	I perceive, by this demand, you are not altogether
	of his council.

Second Lord	Let it be forbid, sir; so should I be a great deal
	of his act.

First Lord	Sir, his wife some two months since fled from his
	house: her pretence is a pilgrimage to Saint Jaques
	le Grand; which holy undertaking with most austere
	sanctimony she accomplished; and, there residing the
	tenderness of her nature became as a prey to her
	grief; in fine, made a groan of her last breath, and
	now she sings in heaven.

Second Lord	How is this justified?

First Lord	The stronger part of it by her own letters, which
	makes her story true, even to the point of her
	death: her death itself, which could not be her
	office to say is come, was faithfully confirmed by
	the rector of the place.

Second Lord	Hath the count all this intelligence?

First Lord	Ay, and the particular confirmations, point from
	point, so to the full arming of the verity.

Second Lord	I am heartily sorry that he'll be glad of this.

First Lord	How mightily sometimes we make us comforts of our losses!

Second Lord	And how mightily some other times we drown our gain
	in tears! The great dignity that his valour hath
	here acquired for him shall at home be encountered
	with a shame as ample.

First Lord	The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and
	ill together: our virtues would be proud, if our
	faults whipped them not; and our crimes would
	despair, if they were not cherished by our virtues.

	[Enter a Messenger]

	How now! where's your master?

Servant	He met the duke in the street, sir, of whom he hath
	taken a solemn leave: his lordship will next
	morning for France. The duke hath offered him
	letters of commendations to the king.

Second Lord	They shall be no more than needful there, if they
	were more than they can commend.

First Lord	They cannot be too sweet for the king's tartness.
	Here's his lordship now.

	[Enter BERTRAM]

	How now, my lord! is't not after midnight?

BERTRAM	I have to-night dispatched sixteen businesses, a
	month's length a-piece, by an abstract of success:
	I have congied with the duke, done my adieu with his
	nearest; buried a wife, mourned for her; writ to my
	lady mother I am returning; entertained my convoy;
	and between these main parcels of dispatch effected
	many nicer needs; the last was the greatest, but
	that I have not ended yet.

Second Lord	If the business be of any difficulty, and this
	morning your departure hence, it requires haste of
	your lordship.

BERTRAM	I mean, the business is not ended, as fearing to
	hear of it hereafter. But shall we have this
	dialogue between the fool and the soldier? Come,
	bring forth this counterfeit module, he has deceived
	me, like a double-meaning prophesier.

Second Lord	Bring him forth: has sat i' the stocks all night,
	poor gallant knave.

BERTRAM	No matter: his heels have deserved it, in usurping
	his spurs so long. How does he carry himself?

Second Lord	I have told your lordship already, the stocks carry
	him. But to answer you as you would be understood;
	he weeps like a wench that had shed her milk: he
	hath confessed himself to Morgan, whom he supposes
	to be a friar, from the time of his remembrance to
	this very instant disaster of his setting i' the
	stocks: and what think you he hath confessed?

BERTRAM	Nothing of me, has a'?

Second Lord	His confession is taken, and it shall be read to his
	face: if your lordship be in't, as I believe you
	are, you must have the patience to hear it.

	[Enter PAROLLES guarded, and First Soldier]

BERTRAM	A plague upon him! muffled! he can say nothing of
	me: hush, hush!

First Lord	Hoodman comes! Portotartarosa

First Soldier	He calls for the tortures: what will you say
	without 'em?

PAROLLES	I will confess what I know without constraint: if
	ye pinch me like a pasty, I can say no more.

First Soldier	Bosko chimurcho.

First Lord	Boblibindo chicurmurco.

First Soldier	You are a merciful general. Our general bids you
	answer to what I shall ask you out of a note.

PAROLLES	And truly, as I hope to live.

First Soldier	[Reads]  'First demand of him how many horse the
	duke is strong.' What say you to that?

PAROLLES	Five or six thousand; but very weak and
	unserviceable: the troops are all scattered, and
	the commanders very poor rogues, upon my reputation
	and credit and as I hope to live.

First Soldier	Shall I set down your answer so?

PAROLLES	Do: I'll take the sacrament on't, how and which way you will.

BERTRAM	All's one to him. What a past-saving slave is this!

First Lord	You're deceived, my lord: this is Monsieur
	Parolles, the gallant militarist,--that was his own
	phrase,--that had the whole theoric of war in the
	knot of his scarf, and the practise in the chape of
	his dagger.

Second Lord	I will never trust a man again for keeping his sword
	clean. nor believe he can have every thing in him
	by wearing his apparel neatly.

First Soldier	Well, that's set down.

PAROLLES	Five or six thousand horse, I said,-- I will say
	true,--or thereabouts, set down, for I'll speak truth.

First Lord	He's very near the truth in this.

BERTRAM	But I con him no thanks for't, in the nature he
	delivers it.

PAROLLES	Poor rogues, I pray you, say.

First Soldier	Well, that's set down.

PAROLLES	I humbly thank you, sir: a truth's a truth, the
	rogues are marvellous poor.

First Soldier	[Reads]  'Demand of him, of what strength they are
	a-foot.' What say you to that?

PAROLLES	By my troth, sir, if I were to live this present
	hour, I will tell true. Let me see: Spurio, a
	hundred and fifty; Sebastian, so many; Corambus, so
	many; Jaques, so many; Guiltian, Cosmo, Lodowick,
	and Gratii, two hundred and fifty each; mine own
	company, Chitopher, Vaumond, Bentii, two hundred and
	fifty each: so that the muster-file, rotten and
	sound, upon my life, amounts not to fifteen thousand
	poll; half of the which dare not shake snow from off
	their cassocks, lest they shake themselves to pieces.

BERTRAM	What shall be done to him?

First Lord	Nothing, but let him have thanks. Demand of him my
	condition, and what credit I have with the duke.

First Soldier	Well, that's set down.

	[Reads]

	'You shall demand of him, whether one Captain Dumain
	be i' the camp, a Frenchman; what his reputation is
	with the duke; what his valour, honesty, and
	expertness in wars; or whether he thinks it were not
	possible, with well-weighing sums of gold, to
	corrupt him to revolt.' What say you to this? what
	do you know of it?

PAROLLES	I beseech you, let me answer to the particular of
	the inter'gatories: demand them singly.

First Soldier	Do you know this Captain Dumain?

PAROLLES	I know him: a' was a botcher's 'prentice in Paris,
	from whence he was whipped for getting the shrieve's
	fool with child,--a dumb innocent, that could not
	say him nay.

BERTRAM	Nay, by your leave, hold your hands; though I know
	his brains are forfeit to the next tile that falls.

First Soldier	Well, is this captain in the duke of Florence's camp?

PAROLLES	Upon my knowledge, he is, and lousy.

First Lord	Nay look not so upon me; we shall hear of your
	lordship anon.

First Soldier	What is his reputation with the duke?

PAROLLES	The duke knows him for no other but a poor officer
	of mine; and writ to me this other day to turn him
	out o' the band: I think I have his letter in my pocket.

First Soldier	Marry, we'll search.

PAROLLES	In good sadness, I do not know; either it is there,
	or it is upon a file with the duke's other letters
	in my tent.

First Soldier	Here 'tis; here's a paper: shall I read it to you?

PAROLLES	I do not know if it be it or no.

BERTRAM	Our interpreter does it well.

First Lord	Excellently.

First Soldier	[Reads]  'Dian, the count's a fool, and full of gold,'--

PAROLLES	That is not the duke's letter, sir; that is an
	advertisement to a proper maid in Florence, one
	Diana, to take heed of the allurement of one Count
	Rousillon, a foolish idle boy, but for all that very
	ruttish: I pray you, sir, put it up again.

First Soldier	Nay, I'll read it first, by your favour.

PAROLLES	My meaning in't, I protest, was very honest in the
	behalf of the maid; for I knew the young count to be
	a dangerous and lascivious boy, who is a whale to
	virginity and devours up all the fry it finds.

BERTRAM	Damnable both-sides rogue!

First Soldier	[Reads]  'When he swears oaths, bid him drop gold, and take it;
	After he scores, he never pays the score:
	Half won is match well made; match, and well make it;
	He ne'er pays after-debts, take it before;
	And say a soldier, Dian, told thee this,
	Men are to mell with, boys are not to kiss:
	For count of this, the count's a fool, I know it,
	Who pays before, but not when he does owe it.
	Thine, as he vowed to thee in thine ear,
			  PAROLLES.'

BERTRAM	He shall be whipped through the army with this rhyme
	in's forehead.

Second Lord	This is your devoted friend, sir, the manifold
	linguist and the armipotent soldier.

BERTRAM	I could endure any thing before but a cat, and now
	he's a cat to me.

First Soldier	I perceive, sir, by the general's looks, we shall be
	fain to hang you.

PAROLLES	My life, sir, in any case: not that I am afraid to
	die; but that, my offences being many, I would
	repent out the remainder of nature: let me live,
	sir, in a dungeon, i' the stocks, or any where, so I may live.

First Soldier	We'll see what may be done, so you confess freely;
	therefore, once more to this Captain Dumain: you
	have answered to his reputation with the duke and to
	his valour: what is his honesty?

PAROLLES	He will steal, sir, an egg out of a cloister: for
	rapes and ravishments he parallels Nessus: he
	professes not keeping of oaths; in breaking 'em he
	is stronger than Hercules: he will lie, sir, with
	such volubility, that you would think truth were a
	fool: drunkenness is his best virtue, for he will
	be swine-drunk; and in his sleep he does little
	harm, save to his bed-clothes about him; but they
	know his conditions and lay him in straw. I have but
	little more to say, sir, of his honesty: he has
	every thing that an honest man should not have; what
	an honest man should have, he has nothing.

First Lord	I begin to love him for this.

BERTRAM	For this description of thine honesty? A pox upon
	him for me, he's more and more a cat.

First Soldier	What say you to his expertness in war?

PAROLLES	Faith, sir, he has led the drum before the English
	tragedians; to belie him, I will not, and more of
	his soldiership I know not; except, in that country
	he had the honour to be the officer at a place there
	called Mile-end, to instruct for the doubling of
	files: I would do the man what honour I can, but of
	this I am not certain.

First Lord	He hath out-villained villany so far, that the
	rarity redeems him.

BERTRAM	A pox on him, he's a cat still.

First Soldier	His qualities being at this poor price, I need not
	to ask you if gold will corrupt him to revolt.

PAROLLES	Sir, for a quart d'ecu he will sell the fee-simple
	of his salvation, the inheritance of it; and cut the
	entail from all remainders, and a perpetual
	succession for it perpetually.

First Soldier	What's his brother, the other Captain Dumain?

Second Lord	Why does be ask him of me?

First Soldier	What's he?

PAROLLES	E'en a crow o' the same nest; not altogether so
	great as the first in goodness, but greater a great
	deal in evil: he excels his brother for a coward,
	yet his brother is reputed one of the best that is:
	in a retreat he outruns any lackey; marry, in coming
	on he has the cramp.

First Soldier	If your life be saved, will you undertake to betray
	the Florentine?

PAROLLES	Ay, and the captain of his horse, Count Rousillon.

First Soldier	I'll whisper with the general, and know his pleasure.

PAROLLES	[Aside]  I'll no more drumming; a plague of all
	drums! Only to seem to deserve well, and to
	beguile the supposition of that lascivious young boy
	the count, have I run into this danger. Yet who
	would have suspected an ambush where I was taken?

First Soldier	There is no remedy, sir, but you must die: the
	general says, you that have so traitorously
	discovered the secrets of your army and made such
	pestiferous reports of men very nobly held, can
	serve the world for no honest use; therefore you
	must die. Come, headsman, off with his head.

PAROLLES	O Lord, sir, let me live, or let me see my death!

First Lord	That shall you, and take your leave of all your friends.

	[Unblinding him]

	So, look about you: know you any here?

BERTRAM	Good morrow, noble captain.

Second Lord	God bless you, Captain Parolles.

First Lord	God save you, noble captain.

Second Lord	Captain, what greeting will you to my Lord Lafeu?
	I am for France.

First Lord	Good captain, will you give me a copy of the sonnet
	you writ to Diana in behalf of the Count Rousillon?
	an I were not a very coward, I'ld compel it of you:
	but fare you well.

	[Exeunt BERTRAM and Lords]

First Soldier	You are undone, captain, all but your scarf; that
	has a knot on't yet

PAROLLES	Who cannot be crushed with a plot?

First Soldier	If you could find out a country where but women were
	that had received so much shame, you might begin an
	impudent nation. Fare ye well, sir; I am for France
	too: we shall speak of you there.

	[Exit with Soldiers]

PAROLLES	Yet am I thankful: if my heart were great,
	'Twould burst at this. Captain I'll be no more;
	But I will eat and drink, and sleep as soft
	As captain shall: simply the thing I am
	Shall make me live. Who knows himself a braggart,
	Let him fear this, for it will come to pass
	that every braggart shall be found an ass.
	Rust, sword? cool, blushes! and, Parolles, live
	Safest in shame! being fool'd, by foolery thrive!
	There's place and means for every man alive.
	I'll after them.

	[Exit]




	ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL


ACT IV



SCENE IV	Florence. The Widow's house.


	[Enter HELENA, Widow, and DIANA]

HELENA	That you may well perceive I have not wrong'd you,
	One of the greatest in the Christian world
	Shall be my surety; 'fore whose throne 'tis needful,
	Ere I can perfect mine intents, to kneel:
	Time was, I did him a desired office,
	Dear almost as his life; which gratitude
	Through flinty Tartar's bosom would peep forth,
	And answer, thanks: I duly am inform'd
	His grace is at Marseilles; to which place
	We have convenient convoy. You must know
	I am supposed dead: the army breaking,
	My husband hies him home; where, heaven aiding,
	And by the leave of my good lord the king,
	We'll be before our welcome.

Widow	Gentle madam,
	You never had a servant to whose trust
	Your business was more welcome.

HELENA	Nor you, mistress,
	Ever a friend whose thoughts more truly labour
	To recompense your love: doubt not but heaven
	Hath brought me up to be your daughter's dower,
	As it hath fated her to be my motive
	And helper to a husband. But, O strange men!
	That can such sweet use make of what they hate,
	When saucy trusting of the cozen'd thoughts
	Defiles the pitchy night: so lust doth play
	With what it loathes for that which is away.
	But more of this hereafter. You, Diana,
	Under my poor instructions yet must suffer
	Something in my behalf.

DIANA	Let death and honesty
	Go with your impositions, I am yours
	Upon your will to suffer.

HELENA	Yet, I pray you:
	But with the word the time will bring on summer,
	When briers shall have leaves as well as thorns,
	And be as sweet as sharp. We must away;
	Our wagon is prepared, and time revives us:
	All's well that ends well; still the fine's the crown;
	Whate'er the course, the end is the renown.

	[Exeunt]




	ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL


ACT IV



SCENE V	Rousillon. The COUNT's palace.


	[Enter COUNTESS, LAFEU, and Clown]

LAFEU	No, no, no, your son was misled with a snipt-taffeta
	fellow there, whose villanous saffron would have
	made all the unbaked and doughy youth of a nation in
	his colour: your daughter-in-law had been alive at
	this hour, and your son here at home, more advanced
	by the king than by that red-tailed humble-bee I speak of.

COUNTESS	I would I had not known him; it was the death of the
	most virtuous gentlewoman that ever nature had
	praise for creating. If she had partaken of my
	flesh, and cost me the dearest groans of a mother, I
	could not have owed her a more rooted love.

LAFEU	'Twas a good lady, 'twas a good lady: we may pick a
	thousand salads ere we light on such another herb.

Clown	Indeed, sir, she was the sweet marjoram of the
	salad, or rather, the herb of grace.

LAFEU	They are not herbs, you knave; they are nose-herbs.

Clown	I am no great Nebuchadnezzar, sir; I have not much
	skill in grass.

LAFEU	Whether dost thou profess thyself, a knave or a fool?

Clown	A fool, sir, at a woman's service, and a knave at a man's.

LAFEU	Your distinction?

Clown	I would cozen the man of his wife and do his service.

LAFEU	So you were a knave at his service, indeed.

Clown	And I would give his wife my bauble, sir, to do her service.

LAFEU	I will subscribe for thee, thou art both knave and fool.

Clown	At your service.

LAFEU	No, no, no.

Clown	Why, sir, if I cannot serve you, I can serve as
	great a prince as you are.

LAFEU	Who's that? a Frenchman?

Clown	Faith, sir, a' has an English name; but his fisnomy
	is more hotter in France than there.

LAFEU	What prince is that?

Clown	The black prince, sir; alias, the prince of
	darkness; alias, the devil.

LAFEU	Hold thee, there's my purse: I give thee not this
	to suggest thee from thy master thou talkest of;
	serve him still.

Clown	I am a woodland fellow, sir, that always loved a
	great fire; and the master I speak of ever keeps a
	good fire. But, sure, he is the prince of the
	world; let his nobility remain in's court. I am for
	the house with the narrow gate, which I take to be
	too little for pomp to enter: some that humble
	themselves may; but the many will be too chill and
	tender, and they'll be for the flowery way that
	leads to the broad gate and the great fire.

LAFEU	Go thy ways, I begin to be aweary of thee; and I
	tell thee so before, because I would not fall out
	with thee. Go thy ways: let my horses be well
	looked to, without any tricks.

Clown	If I put any tricks upon 'em, sir, they shall be
	jades' tricks; which are their own right by the law of nature.

	[Exit]

LAFEU	A shrewd knave and an unhappy.

COUNTESS	So he is. My lord that's gone made himself much
	sport out of him: by his authority he remains here,
	which he thinks is a patent for his sauciness; and,
	indeed, he has no pace, but runs where he will.

LAFEU	I like him well; 'tis not amiss. And I was about to
	tell you, since I heard of the good lady's death and
	that my lord your son was upon his return home, I
	moved the king my master to speak in the behalf of
	my daughter; which, in the minority of them both,
	his majesty, out of a self-gracious remembrance, did
	first propose: his highness hath promised me to do
	it: and, to stop up the displeasure he hath
	conceived against your son, there is no fitter
	matter. How does your ladyship like it?

COUNTESS	With very much content, my lord; and I wish it
	happily effected.

LAFEU	His highness comes post from Marseilles, of as able
	body as when he numbered thirty: he will be here
	to-morrow, or I am deceived by him that in such
	intelligence hath seldom failed.

COUNTESS	It rejoices me, that I hope I shall see him ere I
	die. I have letters that my son will be here
	to-night: I shall beseech your lordship to remain
	with me till they meet together.

LAFEU	Madam, I was thinking with what manners I might
	safely be admitted.

COUNTESS	You need but plead your honourable privilege.

LAFEU	Lady, of that I have made a bold charter; but I
	thank my God it holds yet.

	[Re-enter Clown]

Clown	O madam, yonder's my lord your son with a patch of
	velvet on's face: whether there be a scar under't
	or no, the velvet knows; but 'tis a goodly patch of
	velvet: his left cheek is a cheek of two pile and a
	half, but his right cheek is worn bare.

LAFEU	A scar nobly got, or a noble scar, is a good livery
	of honour; so belike is that.

Clown	But it is your carbonadoed face.

LAFEU	Let us go see your son, I pray you: I long to talk
	with the young noble soldier.

Clown	Faith there's a dozen of 'em, with delicate fine
	hats and most courteous feathers, which bow the head
	and nod at every man.

	[Exeunt]




	ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL


ACT V


SCENE I	Marseilles. A street.


	[Enter HELENA, Widow, and DIANA, with two
	Attendants]

HELENA	But this exceeding posting day and night
	Must wear your spirits low; we cannot help it:
	But since you have made the days and nights as one,
	To wear your gentle limbs in my affairs,
	Be bold you do so grow in my requital
	As nothing can unroot you. In happy time;

	[Enter a Gentleman]

	This man may help me to his majesty's ear,
	If he would spend his power. God save you, sir.

Gentleman	And you.

HELENA	Sir, I have seen you in the court of France.

Gentleman	I have been sometimes there.

HELENA	I do presume, sir, that you are not fallen
	From the report that goes upon your goodness;
	An therefore, goaded with most sharp occasions,
	Which lay nice manners by, I put you to
	The use of your own virtues, for the which
	I shall continue thankful.

Gentleman	What's your will?

HELENA	That it will please you
	To give this poor petition to the king,
	And aid me with that store of power you have
	To come into his presence.

Gentleman	The king's not here.

HELENA	Not here, sir!

Gentleman	Not, indeed:
	He hence removed last night and with more haste
	Than is his use.

Widow	                  Lord, how we lose our pains!

HELENA	ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL yet,
	Though time seem so adverse and means unfit.
	I do beseech you, whither is he gone?

Gentleman	Marry, as I take it, to Rousillon;
	Whither I am going.

HELENA	I do beseech you, sir,
	Since you are like to see the king before me,
	Commend the paper to his gracious hand,
	Which I presume shall render you no blame
	But rather make you thank your pains for it.
	I will come after you with what good speed
	Our means will make us means.

Gentleman	This I'll do for you.

HELENA	And you shall find yourself to be well thank'd,
	Whate'er falls more. We must to horse again.
	Go, go, provide.

	[Exeunt]




	ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL


ACT V



SCENE II	Rousillon. Before the COUNT's palace.


	[Enter Clown, and PAROLLES, following]

PAROLLES	Good Monsieur Lavache, give my Lord Lafeu this
	letter: I have ere now, sir, been better known to
	you, when I have held familiarity with fresher
	clothes; but I am now, sir, muddied in fortune's
	mood, and smell somewhat strong of her strong
	displeasure.

Clown	Truly, fortune's displeasure is but sluttish, if it
	smell so strongly as thou speakest of: I will
	henceforth eat no fish of fortune's buttering.
	Prithee, allow the wind.

PAROLLES	Nay, you need not to stop your nose, sir; I spake
	but by a metaphor.

Clown	Indeed, sir, if your metaphor stink, I will stop my
	nose; or against any man's metaphor. Prithee, get
	thee further.

PAROLLES	Pray you, sir, deliver me this paper.

Clown	Foh! prithee, stand away: a paper from fortune's
	close-stool to give to a nobleman! Look, here he
	comes himself.

	[Enter LAFEU]

	Here is a purr of fortune's, sir, or of fortune's
	cat,--but not a musk-cat,--that has fallen into the
	unclean fishpond of her displeasure, and, as he
	says, is muddied withal: pray you, sir, use the
	carp as you may; for he looks like a poor, decayed,
	ingenious, foolish, rascally knave. I do pity his
	distress in my similes of comfort and leave him to
	your lordship.

	[Exit]

PAROLLES	My lord, I am a man whom fortune hath cruelly
	scratched.

LAFEU	And what would you have me to do? 'Tis too late to
	pare her nails now. Wherein have you played the
	knave with fortune, that she should scratch you, who
	of herself is a good lady and would not have knaves
	thrive long under her? There's a quart d'ecu for
	you: let the justices make you and fortune friends:
	I am for other business.

PAROLLES	I beseech your honour to hear me one single word.

LAFEU	You beg a single penny more: come, you shall ha't;
	save your word.

PAROLLES	My name, my good lord, is Parolles.

LAFEU	You beg more than 'word,' then. Cox my passion!
	give me your hand. How does your drum?

PAROLLES	O my good lord, you were the first that found me!

LAFEU	Was I, in sooth? and I was the first that lost thee.

PAROLLES	It lies in you, my lord, to bring me in some grace,
	for you did bring me out.

LAFEU	Out upon thee, knave! dost thou put upon me at once
	both the office of God and the devil? One brings
	thee in grace and the other brings thee out.

	[Trumpets sound]

	The king's coming; I know by his trumpets. Sirrah,
	inquire further after me; I had talk of you last
	night: though you are a fool and a knave, you shall
	eat; go to, follow.

PAROLLES	I praise God for you.

	[Exeunt]




	ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL


ACT V



SCENE III	Rousillon. The COUNT's palace.


	[Flourish. Enter KING, COUNTESS, LAFEU, the two
	French Lords, with Attendants]

KING	We lost a jewel of her; and our esteem
	Was made much poorer by it: but your son,
	As mad in folly, lack'd the sense to know
	Her estimation home.

COUNTESS	'Tis past, my liege;
	And I beseech your majesty to make it
	Natural rebellion, done i' the blaze of youth;
	When oil and fire, too strong for reason's force,
	O'erbears it and burns on.

KING	My honour'd lady,
	I have forgiven and forgotten all;
	Though my revenges were high bent upon him,
	And watch'd the time to shoot.

LAFEU	This I must say,
	But first I beg my pardon, the young lord
	Did to his majesty, his mother and his lady
	Offence of mighty note; but to himself
	The greatest wrong of all. He lost a wife
	Whose beauty did astonish the survey
	Of richest eyes, whose words all ears took captive,
	Whose dear perfection hearts that scorn'd to serve
	Humbly call'd mistress.

KING	Praising what is lost
	Makes the remembrance dear. Well, call him hither;
	We are reconciled, and the first view shall kill
	All repetition: let him not ask our pardon;
	The nature of his great offence is dead,
	And deeper than oblivion we do bury
	The incensing relics of it: let him approach,
	A stranger, no offender; and inform him
	So 'tis our will he should.

Gentleman	I shall, my liege.

	[Exit]

KING	What says he to your daughter? have you spoke?

LAFEU	All that he is hath reference to your highness.

KING	Then shall we have a match. I have letters sent me
	That set him high in fame.

	[Enter BERTRAM]

LAFEU	He looks well on't.

KING	I am not a day of season,
	For thou mayst see a sunshine and a hail
	In me at once: but to the brightest beams
	Distracted clouds give way; so stand thou forth;
	The time is fair again.

BERTRAM	My high-repented blames,
	Dear sovereign, pardon to me.

KING	All is whole;
	Not one word more of the consumed time.
	Let's take the instant by the forward top;
	For we are old, and on our quick'st decrees
	The inaudible and noiseless foot of Time
	Steals ere we can effect them. You remember
	The daughter of this lord?

BERTRAM	Admiringly, my liege, at first
	I stuck my choice upon her, ere my heart
	Durst make too bold a herald of my tongue
	Where the impression of mine eye infixing,
	Contempt his scornful perspective did lend me,
	Which warp'd the line of every other favour;
	Scorn'd a fair colour, or express'd it stolen;
	Extended or contracted all proportions
	To a most hideous object: thence it came
	That she whom all men praised and whom myself,
	Since I have lost, have loved, was in mine eye
	The dust that did offend it.

KING	Well excused:
	That thou didst love her, strikes some scores away
	From the great compt: but love that comes too late,
	Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried,
	To the great sender turns a sour offence,
	Crying, 'That's good that's gone.' Our rash faults
	Make trivial price of serious things we have,
	Not knowing them until we know their grave:
	Oft our displeasures, to ourselves unjust,
	Destroy our friends and after weep their dust
	Our own love waking cries to see what's done,
	While shame full late sleeps out the afternoon.
	Be this sweet Helen's knell, and now forget her.
	Send forth your amorous token for fair Maudlin:
	The main consents are had; and here we'll stay
	To see our widower's second marriage-day.

COUNTESS	Which better than the first, O dear heaven, bless!
	Or, ere they meet, in me, O nature, cesse!

LAFEU	Come on, my son, in whom my house's name
	Must be digested, give a favour from you
	To sparkle in the spirits of my daughter,
	That she may quickly come.

	[BERTRAM gives a ring]

		     By my old beard,
	And every hair that's on't, Helen, that's dead,
	Was a sweet creature: such a ring as this,
	The last that e'er I took her at court,
	I saw upon her finger.

BERTRAM	Hers it was not.

KING	Now, pray you, let me see it; for mine eye,
	While I was speaking, oft was fasten'd to't.
	This ring was mine; and, when I gave it Helen,
	I bade her, if her fortunes ever stood
	Necessitied to help, that by this token
	I would relieve her. Had you that craft, to reave
	her
	Of what should stead her most?

BERTRAM	My gracious sovereign,
	Howe'er it pleases you to take it so,
	The ring was never hers.

COUNTESS	Son, on my life,
	I have seen her wear it; and she reckon'd it
	At her life's rate.

LAFEU	I am sure I saw her wear it.

BERTRAM	You are deceived, my lord; she never saw it:
	In Florence was it from a casement thrown me,
	Wrapp'd in a paper, which contain'd the name
	Of her that threw it: noble she was, and thought
	I stood engaged: but when I had subscribed
	To mine own fortune and inform'd her fully
	I could not answer in that course of honour
	As she had made the overture, she ceased
	In heavy satisfaction and would never
	Receive the ring again.

KING	Plutus himself,
	That knows the tinct and multiplying medicine,
	Hath not in nature's mystery more science
	Than I have in this ring: 'twas mine, 'twas Helen's,
	Whoever gave it you. Then, if you know
	That you are well acquainted with yourself,
	Confess 'twas hers, and by what rough enforcement
	You got it from her: she call'd the saints to surety
	That she would never put it from her finger,
	Unless she gave it to yourself in bed,
	Where you have never come, or sent it us
	Upon her great disaster.

BERTRAM	She never saw it.

KING	Thou speak'st it falsely, as I love mine honour;
	And makest conjectural fears to come into me
	Which I would fain shut out. If it should prove
	That thou art so inhuman,--'twill not prove so;--
	And yet I know not: thou didst hate her deadly,
	And she is dead; which nothing, but to close
	Her eyes myself, could win me to believe,
	More than to see this ring. Take him away.

	[Guards seize BERTRAM]

	My fore-past proofs, howe'er the matter fall,
	Shall tax my fears of little vanity,
	Having vainly fear'd too little. Away with him!
	We'll sift this matter further.

BERTRAM	If you shall prove
	This ring was ever hers, you shall as easy
	Prove that I husbanded her bed in Florence,
	Where yet she never was.

	[Exit, guarded]

KING	I am wrapp'd in dismal thinkings.

	[Enter a Gentleman]

Gentleman	Gracious sovereign,
	Whether I have been to blame or no, I know not:
	Here's a petition from a Florentine,
	Who hath for four or five removes come short
	To tender it herself. I undertook it,
	Vanquish'd thereto by the fair grace and speech
	Of the poor suppliant, who by this I know
	Is here attending: her business looks in her
	With an importing visage; and she told me,
	In a sweet verbal brief, it did concern
	Your highness with herself.

KING	[Reads]  Upon his many protestations to marry me
	when his wife was dead, I blush to say it, he won
	me. Now is the Count Rousillon a widower: his vows
	are forfeited to me, and my honour's paid to him. He
	stole from Florence, taking no leave, and I follow
	him to his country for justice: grant it me, O
	king! in you it best lies; otherwise a seducer
	flourishes, and a poor maid is undone.
		                  DIANA CAPILET.

LAFEU	I will buy me a son-in-law in a fair, and toll for
	this: I'll none of him.

KING	The heavens have thought well on thee Lafeu,
	To bring forth this discovery. Seek these suitors:
	Go speedily and bring again the count.
	I am afeard the life of Helen, lady,
	Was foully snatch'd.

COUNTESS	Now, justice on the doers!

	[Re-enter BERTRAM, guarded]

KING	I wonder, sir, sith wives are monsters to you,
	And that you fly them as you swear them lordship,
	Yet you desire to marry.

	[Enter Widow and DIANA]

		   What woman's that?

DIANA	I am, my lord, a wretched Florentine,
	Derived from the ancient Capilet:
	My suit, as I do understand, you know,
	And therefore know how far I may be pitied.

Widow	I am her mother, sir, whose age and honour
	Both suffer under this complaint we bring,
	And both shall cease, without your remedy.

KING	Come hither, count; do you know these women?

BERTRAM	My lord, I neither can nor will deny
	But that I know them: do they charge me further?

DIANA	Why do you look so strange upon your wife?

BERTRAM	She's none of mine, my lord.

DIANA	If you shall marry,
	You give away this hand, and that is mine;
	You give away heaven's vows, and those are mine;
	You give away myself, which is known mine;
	For I by vow am so embodied yours,
	That she which marries you must marry me,
	Either both or none.

LAFEU	Your reputation comes too short for my daughter; you
	are no husband for her.

BERTRAM	My lord, this is a fond and desperate creature,
	Whom sometime I have laugh'd with: let your highness
	Lay a more noble thought upon mine honour
	Than for to think that I would sink it here.

KING	Sir, for my thoughts, you have them ill to friend
	Till your deeds gain them: fairer prove your honour
	Than in my thought it lies.

DIANA	Good my lord,
	Ask him upon his oath, if he does think
	He had not my virginity.

KING	What say'st thou to her?

BERTRAM	She's impudent, my lord,
	And was a common gamester to the camp.

DIANA	He does me wrong, my lord; if I were so,
	He might have bought me at a common price:
	Do not believe him. O, behold this ring,
	Whose high respect and rich validity
	Did lack a parallel; yet for all that
	He gave it to a commoner o' the camp,
	If I be one.

COUNTESS	                  He blushes, and 'tis it:
	Of six preceding ancestors, that gem,
	Conferr'd by testament to the sequent issue,
	Hath it been owed and worn. This is his wife;
	That ring's a thousand proofs.

KING	Methought you said
	You saw one here in court could witness it.

DIANA	I did, my lord, but loath am to produce
	So bad an instrument: his name's Parolles.

LAFEU	I saw the man to-day, if man he be.

KING	Find him, and bring him hither.

	[Exit an Attendant]

BERTRAM	What of him?
	He's quoted for a most perfidious slave,
	With all the spots o' the world tax'd and debosh'd;
	Whose nature sickens but to speak a truth.
	Am I or that or this for what he'll utter,
	That will speak any thing?

KING	She hath that ring of yours.

BERTRAM	I think she has: certain it is I liked her,
	And boarded her i' the wanton way of youth:
	She knew her distance and did angle for me,
	Madding my eagerness with her restraint,
	As all impediments in fancy's course
	Are motives of more fancy; and, in fine,
	Her infinite cunning, with her modern grace,
	Subdued me to her rate: she got the ring;
	And I had that which any inferior might
	At market-price have bought.

DIANA	I must be patient:
	You, that have turn'd off a first so noble wife,
	May justly diet me. I pray you yet;
	Since you lack virtue, I will lose a husband;
	Send for your ring, I will return it home,
	And give me mine again.

BERTRAM	I have it not.

KING	What ring was yours, I pray you?

DIANA	Sir, much like
	The same upon your finger.

KING	Know you this ring? this ring was his of late.

DIANA	And this was it I gave him, being abed.

KING	The story then goes false, you threw it him
	Out of a casement.

DIANA	                  I have spoke the truth.

	[Enter PAROLLES]

BERTRAM	My lord, I do confess the ring was hers.

KING	You boggle shrewdly, every feather stars you.
	Is this the man you speak of?

DIANA	Ay, my lord.

KING	Tell me, sirrah, but tell me true, I charge you,
	Not fearing the displeasure of your master,
	Which on your just proceeding I'll keep off,
	By him and by this woman here what know you?

PAROLLES	So please your majesty, my master hath been an
	honourable gentleman: tricks he hath had in him,
	which gentlemen have.

KING	Come, come, to the purpose: did he love this woman?

PAROLLES	Faith, sir, he did love her; but how?

KING	How, I pray you?

PAROLLES	He did love her, sir, as a gentleman loves a woman.

KING	How is that?

PAROLLES	He loved her, sir, and loved her not.

KING	As thou art a knave, and no knave. What an
	equivocal companion is this!

PAROLLES	I am a poor man, and at your majesty's command.

LAFEU	He's a good drum, my lord, but a naughty orator.

DIANA	Do you know he promised me marriage?

PAROLLES	Faith, I know more than I'll speak.

KING	But wilt thou not speak all thou knowest?

PAROLLES	Yes, so please your majesty. I did go between them,
	as I said; but more than that, he loved her: for
	indeed he was mad for her, and talked of Satan and
	of Limbo and of Furies and I know not what: yet I
	was in that credit with them at that time that I
	knew of their going to bed, and of other motions,
	as promising her marriage, and things which would
	derive me ill will to speak of; therefore I will not
	speak what I know.

KING	Thou hast spoken all already, unless thou canst say
	they are married: but thou art too fine in thy
	evidence; therefore stand aside.
	This ring, you say, was yours?

DIANA	Ay, my good lord.

KING	Where did you buy it? or who gave it you?

DIANA	It was not given me, nor I did not buy it.

KING	Who lent it you?

DIANA	                  It was not lent me neither.

KING	Where did you find it, then?

DIANA	I found it not.

KING	If it were yours by none of all these ways,
	How could you give it him?

DIANA	I never gave it him.

LAFEU	This woman's an easy glove, my lord; she goes off
	and on at pleasure.

KING	This ring was mine; I gave it his first wife.

DIANA	It might be yours or hers, for aught I know.

KING	Take her away; I do not like her now;
	To prison with her: and away with him.
	Unless thou tell'st me where thou hadst this ring,
	Thou diest within this hour.

DIANA	I'll never tell you.

KING	Take her away.

DIANA	                  I'll put in bail, my liege.

KING	I think thee now some common customer.

DIANA	By Jove, if ever I knew man, 'twas you.

KING	Wherefore hast thou accused him all this while?

DIANA	Because he's guilty, and he is not guilty:
	He knows I am no maid, and he'll swear to't;
	I'll swear I am a maid, and he knows not.
	Great king, I am no strumpet, by my life;
	I am either maid, or else this old man's wife.

KING	She does abuse our ears: to prison with her.

DIANA	Good mother, fetch my bail. Stay, royal sir:

	[Exit Widow]

	The jeweller that owes the ring is sent for,
	And he shall surety me. But for this lord,
	Who hath abused me, as he knows himself,
	Though yet he never harm'd me, here I quit him:
	He knows himself my bed he hath defiled;
	And at that time he got his wife with child:
	Dead though she be, she feels her young one kick:
	So there's my riddle: one that's dead is quick:
	And now behold the meaning.

	[Re-enter Widow, with HELENA]

KING	Is there no exorcist
	Beguiles the truer office of mine eyes?
	Is't real that I see?

HELENA	No, my good lord;
	'Tis but the shadow of a wife you see,
	The name and not the thing.

BERTRAM	Both, both. O, pardon!

HELENA	O my good lord, when I was like this maid,
	I found you wondrous kind. There is your ring;
	And, look you, here's your letter; this it says:
	'When from my finger you can get this ring
	And are by me with child,' &c. This is done:
	Will you be mine, now you are doubly won?

BERTRAM	If she, my liege, can make me know this clearly,
	I'll love her dearly, ever, ever dearly.

HELENA	If it appear not plain and prove untrue,
	Deadly divorce step between me and you!
	O my dear mother, do I see you living?

LAFEU	Mine eyes smell onions; I shall weep anon:

	[To PAROLLES]

	Good Tom Drum, lend me a handkercher: so,
	I thank thee: wait on me home, I'll make sport with thee:
	Let thy courtesies alone, they are scurvy ones.

KING	Let us from point to point this story know,
	To make the even truth in pleasure flow.

	[To DIANA]

	If thou be'st yet a fresh uncropped flower,
	Choose thou thy husband, and I'll pay thy dower;
	For I can guess that by thy honest aid
	Thou keep'st a wife herself, thyself a maid.
	Of that and all the progress, more or less,
	Resolvedly more leisure shall express:
	All yet seems well; and if it end so meet,
	The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet.

	[Flourish]




	ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL

	EPILOGUE


KING	The king's a beggar, now the play is done:
	All is well ended, if this suit be won,
	That you express content; which we will pay,
	With strife to please you, day exceeding day:
	Ours be your patience then, and yours our parts;
	Your gentle hands lend us, and take our hearts.

	[Exeunt]




	PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE


	DRAMATIS PERSONAE


ANTIOCHUS	king of Antioch.

PERICLES	prince of Tyre.


HELICANUS	|
	|  two lords of Tyre.
ESCANES	|


SIMONIDES	king of Pentapolis.

CLEON	governor of Tarsus.

LYSIMACHUS	governor of Mytilene.

CERIMON	a lord of Ephesus.

THALIARD	a lord of Antioch.

PHILEMON	servant to Cerimon.

LEONINE	servant to Dionyza.

	Marshal. (Marshal:)

	A Pandar. (Pandar:)

BOULT	his servant.

	The Daughter of Antiochus. (Daughter:)

DIONYZA	wife to Cleon.

THAISA	daughter to Simonides.

MARINA	daughter to Pericles and Thaisa.

LYCHORIDA	nurse to Marina.

	A Bawd. (Bawd:)

	Lords, Knights, Gentlemen, Sailors, Pirates,
	Fishermen, and Messengers. (Lord:)
	(First Lord:)
	(Second Lord:)
	(Third Lord:)
	(First Knight:)
	(Second Knight:)
	(Third Knight:)
	(First Gentleman:)
	(Second Gentleman:)
	(First Sailor:)
	(Second Sailor:)
	(First Pirate:)
	(Second Pirate:)
	(Third Pirate:)
	(First Fisherman:)
	(Second Fisherman:)
	(Third Fisherman:)
	(Messenger:)

DIANA:

GOWER	as Chorus.



SCENE	Dispersedly in various countries.




	PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE


ACT I


	[Enter GOWER]

	[Before the palace of Antioch]

	To sing a song that old was sung,
	From ashes ancient Gower is come;
	Assuming man's infirmities,
	To glad your ear, and please your eyes.
	It hath been sung at festivals,
	On ember-eves and holy-ales;
	And lords and ladies in their lives
	Have read it for restoratives:
	The purchase is to make men glorious;
	Et bonum quo antiquius, eo melius.
	If you, born in these latter times,
	When wit's more ripe, accept my rhymes.
	And that to hear an old man sing
	May to your wishes pleasure bring
	I life would wish, and that I might
	Waste it for you, like taper-light.
	This Antioch, then, Antiochus the Great
	Built up, this city, for his chiefest seat:
	The fairest in all Syria,
	I tell you what mine authors say:
	This king unto him took a fere,
	Who died and left a female heir,
	So buxom, blithe, and full of face,
	As heaven had lent her all his grace;
	With whom the father liking took,
	And her to incest did provoke:
	Bad child; worse father! to entice his own
	To evil should be done by none:
	But custom what they did begin
	Was with long use account no sin.
	The beauty of this sinful dame
	Made many princes thither frame,
	To seek her as a bed-fellow,
	In marriage-pleasures play-fellow:
	Which to prevent he made a law,
	To keep her still, and men in awe,
	That whoso ask'd her for his wife,
	His riddle told not, lost his life:
	So for her many a wight did die,
	As yon grim looks do testify.
	What now ensues, to the judgment of your eye
	I give, my cause who best can justify.

	[Exit]




	PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE


ACT I



SCENE I	Antioch. A room in the palace.


	[Enter ANTIOCHUS, Prince PERICLES, and followers]

ANTIOCHUS	Young prince of Tyre, you have at large received
	The danger of the task you undertake.

PERICLES	I have, Antiochus, and, with a soul
	Embolden'd with the glory of her praise,
	Think death no hazard in this enterprise.

ANTIOCHUS	Bring in our daughter, clothed like a bride,
	For the embracements even of Jove himself;
	At whose conception, till Lucina reign'd,
	Nature this dowry gave, to glad her presence,
	The senate-house of planets all did sit,
	To knit in her their best perfections.

	[Music. Enter the Daughter of ANTIOCHUS]

PERICLES	See where she comes, apparell'd like the spring,
	Graces her subjects, and her thoughts the king
	Of every virtue gives renown to men!
	Her face the book of praises, where is read
	Nothing but curious pleasures, as from thence
	Sorrow were ever razed and testy wrath
	Could never be her mild companion.
	You gods that made me man, and sway in love,
	That have inflamed desire in my breast
	To taste the fruit of yon celestial tree,
	Or die in the adventure, be my helps,
	As I am son and servant to your will,
	To compass such a boundless happiness!

ANTIOCHUS	Prince Pericles,--

PERICLES	That would be son to great Antiochus.

ANTIOCHUS	Before thee stands this fair Hesperides,
	With golden fruit, but dangerous to be touch'd;
	For death-like dragons here affright thee hard:
	Her face, like heaven, enticeth thee to view
	Her countless glory, which desert must gain;
	And which, without desert, because thine eye
	Presumes to reach, all thy whole heap must die.
	Yon sometimes famous princes, like thyself,
	Drawn by report, adventurous by desire,
	Tell thee, with speechless tongues and semblance pale,
	That without covering, save yon field of stars,
	Here they stand martyrs, slain in Cupid's wars;
	And with dead cheeks advise thee to desist
	For going on death's net, whom none resist.

PERICLES	Antiochus, I thank thee, who hath taught
	My frail mortality to know itself,
	And by those fearful objects to prepare
	This body, like to them, to what I must;
	For death remember'd should be like a mirror,
	Who tells us life's but breath, to trust it error.
	I'll make my will then, and, as sick men do
	Who know the world, see heaven, but, feeling woe,
	Gripe not at earthly joys as erst they did;
	So I bequeath a happy peace to you
	And all good men, as every prince should do;
	My riches to the earth from whence they came;
	But my unspotted fire of love to you.

	[To the Daughter of ANTIOCHUS]

	Thus ready for the way of life or death,
	I wait the sharpest blow, Antiochus.

ANTIOCHUS	Scorning advice, read the conclusion then:
	Which read and not expounded, 'tis decreed,
	As these before thee thou thyself shalt bleed.

Daughter	Of all say'd yet, mayst thou prove prosperous!
	Of all say'd yet, I wish thee happiness!

PERICLES	Like a bold champion, I assume the lists,
	Nor ask advice of any other thought
	But faithfulness and courage.

	[He reads the riddle]

	I am no viper, yet I feed
	On mother's flesh which did me breed.
	I sought a husband, in which labour
	I found that kindness in a father:
	He's father, son, and husband mild;
	I mother, wife, and yet his child.
	How they may be, and yet in two,
	As you will live, resolve it you.

	Sharp physic is the last: but, O you powers
	That give heaven countless eyes to view men's acts,
	Why cloud they not their sights perpetually,
	If this be true, which makes me pale to read it?
	Fair glass of light, I loved you, and could still,

	[Takes hold of the hand of the Daughter of ANTIOCHUS]

	Were not this glorious casket stored with ill:
	But I must tell you, now my thoughts revolt
	For he's no man on whom perfections wait
	That, knowing sin within, will touch the gate.
	You are a fair viol, and your sense the strings;
	Who, finger'd to make man his lawful music,
	Would draw heaven down, and all the gods, to hearken:
	But being play'd upon before your time,
	Hell only danceth at so harsh a chime.
	Good sooth, I care not for you.

ANTIOCHUS	Prince Pericles, touch not, upon thy life.
	For that's an article within our law,
	As dangerous as the rest. Your time's expired:
	Either expound now, or receive your sentence.

PERICLES	Great king,
	Few love to hear the sins they love to act;
	'Twould braid yourself too near for me to tell it.
	Who has a book of all that monarchs do,
	He's more secure to keep it shut than shown:
	For vice repeated is like the wandering wind.
	Blows dust in other's eyes, to spread itself;
	And yet the end of all is bought thus dear,
	The breath is gone, and the sore eyes see clear:
	To stop the air would hurt them. The blind mole casts
	Copp'd hills towards heaven, to tell the earth is throng'd
	By man's oppression; and the poor worm doth die for't.
	Kings are earth's gods; in vice their law's
	their will;
	And if Jove stray, who dares say Jove doth ill?
	It is enough you know; and it is fit,
	What being more known grows worse, to smother it.
	All love the womb that their first being bred,
	Then give my tongue like leave to love my head.

ANTIOCHUS	[Aside]  Heaven, that I had thy head! he has found
	the meaning:
	But I will gloze with him.--Young prince of Tyre,
	Though by the tenor of our strict edict,
	Your exposition misinterpreting,
	We might proceed to cancel of your days;
	Yet hope, succeeding from so fair a tree
	As your fair self, doth tune us otherwise:
	Forty days longer we do respite you;
	If by which time our secret be undone,
	This mercy shows we'll joy in such a son:
	And until then your entertain shall be
	As doth befit our honour and your worth.

	[Exeunt all but PERICLES]

PERICLES	How courtesy would seem to cover sin,
	When what is done is like an hypocrite,
	The which is good in nothing but in sight!
	If it be true that I interpret false,
	Then were it certain you were not so bad
	As with foul incest to abuse your soul;
	Where now you're both a father and a son,
	By your untimely claspings with your child,
	Which pleasure fits an husband, not a father;
	And she an eater of her mother's flesh,
	By the defiling of her parent's bed;
	And both like serpents are, who though they feed
	On sweetest flowers, yet they poison breed.
	Antioch, farewell! for wisdom sees, those men
	Blush not in actions blacker than the night,
	Will shun no course to keep them from the light.
	One sin, I know, another doth provoke;
	Murder's as near to lust as flame to smoke:
	Poison and treason are the hands of sin,
	Ay, and the targets, to put off the shame:
	Then, lest my lie be cropp'd to keep you clear,
	By flight I'll shun the danger which I fear.

	[Exit]

	[Re-enter ANTIOCHUS]

ANTIOCHUS	He hath found the meaning, for which we mean
	To have his head.
	He must not live to trumpet forth my infamy,
	Nor tell the world Antiochus doth sin
	In such a loathed manner;
	And therefore instantly this prince must die:
	For by his fall my honour must keep high.
	Who attends us there?

	[Enter THALIARD]

THALIARD	Doth your highness call?

ANTIOCHUS	Thaliard,
	You are of our chamber, and our mind partakes
	Her private actions to your secrecy;
	And for your faithfulness we will advance you.
	Thaliard, behold, here's poison, and here's gold;
	We hate the prince of Tyre, and thou must kill him:
	It fits thee not to ask the reason why,
	Because we bid it. Say, is it done?

THALIARD	My lord,
	'Tis done.

ANTIOCHUS	         Enough.

	[Enter a Messenger]

	Let your breath cool yourself, telling your haste.

Messenger	My lord, prince Pericles is fled.

	[Exit]

ANTIOCHUS	As thou
	Wilt live, fly after: and like an arrow shot
	From a well-experienced archer hits the mark
	His eye doth level at, so thou ne'er return
	Unless thou say 'Prince Pericles is dead.'

THALIARD	My lord,
	If I can get him within my pistol's length,
	I'll make him sure enough: so, farewell to your highness.

ANTIOCHUS	Thaliard, adieu!

	[Exit THALIARD]

	Till Pericles be dead,
	My heart can lend no succor to my head.

	[Exit]




	PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE


ACT I



SCENE II	Tyre. A room in the palace.


	[Enter PERICLES]

PERICLES	[To Lords without]  Let none disturb us.--Why should
	this change of thoughts,
	The sad companion, dull-eyed melancholy,
	Be my so used a guest as not an hour,
	In the day's glorious walk, or peaceful night,
	The tomb where grief should sleep, can breed me quiet?
	Here pleasures court mine eyes, and mine eyes shun them,
	And danger, which I fear'd, is at Antioch,
	Whose aim seems far too short to hit me here:
	Yet neither pleasure's art can joy my spirits,
	Nor yet the other's distance comfort me.
	Then it is thus: the passions of the mind,
	That have their first conception by mis-dread,
	Have after-nourishment and life by care;
	And what was first but fear what might be done,
	Grows elder now and cares it be not done.
	And so with me: the great Antiochus,
	'Gainst whom I am too little to contend,
	Since he's so great can make his will his act,
	Will think me speaking, though I swear to silence;
	Nor boots it me to say I honour him.
	If he suspect I may dishonour him:
	And what may make him blush in being known,
	He'll stop the course by which it might be known;
	With hostile forces he'll o'erspread the land,
	And with the ostent of war will look so huge,
	Amazement shall drive courage from the state;
	Our men be vanquish'd ere they do resist,
	And subjects punish'd that ne'er thought offence:
	Which care of them, not pity of myself,
	Who am no more but as the tops of trees,
	Which fence the roots they grow by and defend them,
	Makes both my body pine and soul to languish,
	And punish that before that he would punish.

	[Enter HELICANUS, with other Lords]

First Lord	Joy and all comfort in your sacred breast!

Second Lord	And keep your mind, till you return to us,
	Peaceful and comfortable!

HELICANUS	Peace, peace, and give experience tongue.
	They do abuse the king that flatter him:
	For flattery is the bellows blows up sin;
	The thing which is flatter'd, but a spark,
	To which that blast gives heat and stronger glowing;
	Whereas reproof, obedient and in order,
	Fits kings, as they are men, for they may err.
	When Signior Sooth here does proclaim a peace,
	He flatters you, makes war upon your life.
	Prince, pardon me, or strike me, if you please;
	I cannot be much lower than my knees.

PERICLES	All leave us else; but let your cares o'erlook
	What shipping and what lading's in our haven,
	And then return to us.

	[Exeunt Lords]

		 Helicanus, thou
	Hast moved us: what seest thou in our looks?

HELICANUS	An angry brow, dread lord.

PERICLES	If there be such a dart in princes' frowns,
	How durst thy tongue move anger to our face?

HELICANUS	How dare the plants look up to heaven, from whence
	They have their nourishment?

PERICLES	Thou know'st I have power
	To take thy life from thee.

HELICANUS	[Kneeling]

		     I have ground the axe myself;
	Do you but strike the blow.

PERICLES	Rise, prithee, rise.
	Sit down: thou art no flatterer:
	I thank thee for it; and heaven forbid
	That kings should let their ears hear their
	faults hid!
	Fit counsellor and servant for a prince,
	Who by thy wisdom makest a prince thy servant,
	What wouldst thou have me do?

HELICANUS	To bear with patience
	Such griefs as you yourself do lay upon yourself.

PERICLES	Thou speak'st like a physician, Helicanus,
	That minister'st a potion unto me
	That thou wouldst tremble to receive thyself.
	Attend me, then: I went to Antioch,
	Where as thou know'st, against the face of death,
	I sought the purchase of a glorious beauty.
	From whence an issue I might propagate,
	Are arms to princes, and bring joys to subjects.
	Her face was to mine eye beyond all wonder;
	The rest--hark in thine ear--as black as incest:
	Which by my knowledge found, the sinful father
	Seem'd not to strike, but smooth: but thou
	know'st this,
	'Tis time to fear when tyrants seem to kiss.
	Such fear so grew in me, I hither fled,
	Under the covering of a careful night,
	Who seem'd my good protector; and, being here,
	Bethought me what was past, what might succeed.
	I knew him tyrannous; and tyrants' fears
	Decrease not, but grow faster than the years:
	And should he doubt it, as no doubt he doth,
	That I should open to the listening air
	How many worthy princes' bloods were shed,
	To keep his bed of blackness unlaid ope,
	To lop that doubt, he'll fill this land with arms,
	And make pretence of wrong that I have done him:
	When all, for mine, if I may call offence,
	Must feel war's blow, who spares not innocence:
	Which love to all, of which thyself art one,
	Who now reprovest me for it,--

HELICANUS	Alas, sir!

PERICLES	Drew sleep out of mine eyes, blood from my cheeks,
	Musings into my mind, with thousand doubts
	How I might stop this tempest ere it came;
	And finding little comfort to relieve them,
	I thought it princely charity to grieve them.

HELICANUS	Well, my lord, since you have given me leave to speak.
	Freely will I speak. Antiochus you fear,
	And justly too, I think, you fear the tyrant,
	Who either by public war or private treason
	Will take away your life.
	Therefore, my lord, go travel for a while,
	Till that his rage and anger be forgot,
	Or till the Destinies do cut his thread of life.
	Your rule direct to any; if to me.
	Day serves not light more faithful than I'll be.

PERICLES	I do not doubt thy faith;
	But should he wrong my liberties in my absence?

HELICANUS	We'll mingle our bloods together in the earth,
	From whence we had our being and our birth.

PERICLES	Tyre, I now look from thee then, and to Tarsus
	Intend my travel, where I'll hear from thee;
	And by whose letters I'll dispose myself.
	The care I had and have of subjects' good
	On thee I lay whose wisdom's strength can bear it.
	I'll take thy word for faith, not ask thine oath:
	Who shuns not to break one will sure crack both:
	But in our orbs we'll live so round and safe,
	That time of both this truth shall ne'er convince,
	Thou show'dst a subject's shine, I a true prince.

	[Exeunt]




	PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE


ACT I



SCENE III	Tyre. An ante-chamber in the palace.


	[Enter THALIARD]

THALIARD	So, this is Tyre, and this the court. Here must I
	kill King Pericles; and if I do it not, I am sure to
	be hanged at home: 'tis dangerous. Well, I perceive
	he was a wise fellow, and had good discretion, that,
	being bid to ask what he would of the king, desired
	he might know none of his secrets: now do I see he
	had some reason for't; for if a king bid a man be a
	villain, he's bound by the indenture of his oath to
	be one! Hush! here come the lords of Tyre.

	[Enter HELICANUS and ESCANES, with other Lords of Tyre]

HELICANUS	You shall not need, my fellow peers of Tyre,
	Further to question me of your king's departure:
	His seal'd commission, left in trust with me,
	Doth speak sufficiently he's gone to travel.

THALIARD	[Aside]  How! the king gone!

HELICANUS	If further yet you will be satisfied,
	Why, as it were unlicensed of your loves,
	He would depart, I'll give some light unto you.
	Being at Antioch--

THALIARD	[Aside]          What from Antioch?

HELICANUS	Royal Antiochus--on what cause I know not--
	Took some displeasure at him; at least he judged so:
	And doubting lest that he had err'd or sinn'd,
	To show his sorrow, he'ld correct himself;
	So puts himself unto the shipman's toil,
	With whom each minute threatens life or death.

THALIARD	[Aside]  Well, I perceive
	I shall not be hang'd now, although I would;
	But since he's gone, the king's seas must please:
	He 'scaped the land, to perish at the sea.
	I'll present myself. Peace to the lords of Tyre!

HELICANUS	Lord Thaliard from Antiochus is welcome.

THALIARD	From him I come
	With message unto princely Pericles;
	But since my landing I have understood
	Your lord has betook himself to unknown travels,
	My message must return from whence it came.

HELICANUS	We have no reason to desire it,
	Commended to our master, not to us:
	Yet, ere you shall depart, this we desire,
	As friends to Antioch, we may feast in Tyre.

	[Exeunt]




	PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE


ACT I



SCENE IV	Tarsus. A room in the Governor's house.


	[Enter CLEON, the governor of Tarsus, with DIONYZA,
	and others]

CLEON	My Dionyza, shall we rest us here,
	And by relating tales of others' griefs,
	See if 'twill teach us to forget our own?

DIONYZA	That were to blow at fire in hope to quench it;
	For who digs hills because they do aspire
	Throws down one mountain to cast up a higher.
	O my distressed lord, even such our griefs are;
	Here they're but felt, and seen with mischief's eyes,
	But like to groves, being topp'd, they higher rise.

CLEON	O Dionyza,
	Who wanteth food, and will not say he wants it,
	Or can conceal his hunger till he famish?
	Our tongues and sorrows do sound deep
	Our woes into the air; our eyes do weep,
	Till tongues fetch breath that may proclaim them louder;
	That, if heaven slumber while their creatures want,
	They may awake their helps to comfort them.
	I'll then discourse our woes, felt several years,
	And wanting breath to speak help me with tears.

DIONYZA	I'll do my best, sir.

CLEON	This Tarsus, o'er which I have the government,
	A city on whom plenty held full hand,
	For riches strew'd herself even in the streets;
	Whose towers bore heads so high they kiss'd the clouds,
	And strangers ne'er beheld but wondered at;
	Whose men and dames so jetted and adorn'd,
	Like one another's glass to trim them by:
	Their tables were stored full, to glad the sight,
	And not so much to feed on as delight;
	All poverty was scorn'd, and pride so great,
	The name of help grew odious to repeat.

DIONYZA	O, 'tis too true.

CLEON	But see what heaven can do! By this our change,
	These mouths, who but of late, earth, sea, and air,
	Were all too little to content and please,
	Although they gave their creatures in abundance,
	As houses are defiled for want of use,
	They are now starved for want of exercise:
	Those palates who, not yet two summers younger,
	Must have inventions to delight the taste,
	Would now be glad of bread, and beg for it:
	Those mothers who, to nousle up their babes,
	Thought nought too curious, are ready now
	To eat those little darlings whom they loved.
	So sharp are hunger's teeth, that man and wife
	Draw lots who first shall die to lengthen life:
	Here stands a lord, and there a lady weeping;
	Here many sink, yet those which see them fall
	Have scarce strength left to give them burial.
	Is not this true?

DIONYZA	Our cheeks and hollow eyes do witness it.

CLEON	O, let those cities that of plenty's cup
	And her prosperities so largely taste,
	With their superfluous riots, hear these tears!
	The misery of Tarsus may be theirs.

	[Enter a Lord]

Lord	Where's the lord governor?

CLEON	Here.
	Speak out thy sorrows which thou bring'st in haste,
	For comfort is too far for us to expect.

Lord	We have descried, upon our neighbouring shore,
	A portly sail of ships make hitherward.

CLEON	I thought as much.
	One sorrow never comes but brings an heir,
	That may succeed as his inheritor;
	And so in ours: some neighbouring nation,
	Taking advantage of our misery,
	Hath stuff'd these hollow vessels with their power,
	To beat us down, the which are down already;
	And make a conquest of unhappy me,
	Whereas no glory's got to overcome.

Lord	That's the least fear; for, by the semblance
	Of their white flags display'd, they bring us peace,
	And come to us as favourers, not as foes.

CLEON	Thou speak'st like him's untutor'd to repeat:
	Who makes the fairest show means most deceit.
	But bring they what they will and what they can,
	What need we fear?
	The ground's the lowest, and we are half way there.
	Go tell their general we attend him here,
	To know for what he comes, and whence he comes,
	And what he craves.

Lord	I go, my lord.

	[Exit]

CLEON	Welcome is peace, if he on peace consist;
	If wars, we are unable to resist.

	[Enter PERICLES with Attendants]

PERICLES	Lord governor, for so we hear you are,
	Let not our ships and number of our men
	Be like a beacon fired to amaze your eyes.
	We have heard your miseries as far as Tyre,
	And seen the desolation of your streets:
	Nor come we to add sorrow to your tears,
	But to relieve them of their heavy load;
	And these our ships, you happily may think
	Are like the Trojan horse was stuff'd within
	With bloody veins, expecting overthrow,
	Are stored with corn to make your needy bread,
	And give them life whom hunger starved half dead.

All	The gods of Greece protect you!
	And we'll pray for you.

PERICLES	Arise, I pray you, rise:
	We do not look for reverence, but to love,
	And harbourage for ourself, our ships, and men.

CLEON	The which when any shall not gratify,
	Or pay you with unthankfulness in thought,
	Be it our wives, our children, or ourselves,
	The curse of heaven and men succeed their evils!
	Till when,--the which I hope shall ne'er be seen,--
	Your grace is welcome to our town and us.

PERICLES	Which welcome we'll accept; feast here awhile,
	Until our stars that frown lend us a smile.

	[Exeunt]




	PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE


ACT II


	[Enter GOWER]

GOWER	Here have you seen a mighty king
	His child, I wis, to incest bring;
	A better prince and benign lord,
	That will prove awful both in deed and word.
	Be quiet then as men should be,
	Till he hath pass'd necessity.
	I'll show you those in troubles reign,
	Losing a mite, a mountain gain.
	The good in conversation,
	To whom I give my benison,
	Is still at Tarsus, where each man
	Thinks all is writ he speken can;
	And, to remember what he does,
	Build his statue to make him glorious:
	But tidings to the contrary
	Are brought your eyes; what need speak I?

	DUMB SHOW.

	[Enter at one door PERICLES talking with CLEON; all
	the train with them. Enter at another door a
	Gentleman, with a letter to PERICLES; PERICLES
	shows the letter to CLEON; gives the Messenger a
	reward, and knights him. Exit PERICLES at one
	door, and CLEON at another]

	Good Helicane, that stay'd at home,
	Not to eat honey like a drone
	From others' labours; for though he strive
	To killen bad, keep good alive;
	And to fulfil his prince' desire,
	Sends word of all that haps in Tyre:
	How Thaliard came full bent with sin
	And had intent to murder him;
	And that in Tarsus was not best
	Longer for him to make his rest.
	He, doing so, put forth to seas,
	Where when men been, there's seldom ease;
	For now the wind begins to blow;
	Thunder above and deeps below
	Make such unquiet, that the ship
	Should house him safe is wreck'd and split;
	And he, good prince, having all lost,
	By waves from coast to coast is tost:
	All perishen of man, of pelf,
	Ne aught escapen but himself;
	Till fortune, tired with doing bad,
	Threw him ashore, to give him glad:
	And here he comes. What shall be next,
	Pardon old Gower,--this longs the text.

	[Exit]




	PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE


ACT II



SCENE I	Pentapolis. An open place by the sea-side.


	[Enter PERICLES, wet]

PERICLES	Yet cease your ire, you angry stars of heaven!
	Wind, rain, and thunder, remember, earthly man
	Is but a substance that must yield to you;
	And I, as fits my nature, do obey you:
	Alas, the sea hath cast me on the rocks,
	Wash'd me from shore to shore, and left me breath
	Nothing to think on but ensuing death:
	Let it suffice the greatness of your powers
	To have bereft a prince of all his fortunes;
	And having thrown him from your watery grave,
	Here to have death in peace is all he'll crave.

	[Enter three FISHERMEN]

First Fisherman	What, ho, Pilch!

Second Fisherman	Ha, come and bring away the nets!

First Fisherman	What, Patch-breech, I say!

Third Fisherman	What say you, master?

First Fisherman	Look how thou stirrest now! come away, or I'll
	fetch thee with a wanion.

Third Fisherman	Faith, master, I am thinking of the poor men that
	were cast away before us even now.

First Fisherman	Alas, poor souls, it grieved my heart to hear what
	pitiful cries they made to us to help them, when,
	well-a-day, we could scarce help ourselves.

Third Fisherman	Nay, master, said not I as much when I saw the
	porpus how he bounced and tumbled? they say
	they're half fish, half flesh: a plague on them,
	they ne'er come but I look to be washed. Master, I
	marvel how the fishes live in the sea.

First Fisherman	Why, as men do a-land; the great ones eat up the
	little ones: I can compare our rich misers to
	nothing so fitly as to a whale; a' plays and
	tumbles, driving the poor fry before him, and at
	last devours them all at a mouthful: such whales
	have I heard on o' the land, who never leave gaping
	till they've swallowed the whole parish, church,
	steeple, bells, and all.

PERICLES	[Aside]  A pretty moral.

Third Fisherman	But, master, if I had been the sexton, I would have
	been that day in the belfry.

Second Fisherman	Why, man?

Third Fisherman	Because he should have swallowed me too: and when I
	had been in his belly, I would have kept such a
	jangling of the bells, that he should never have
	left, till he cast bells, steeple, church, and
	parish up again. But if the good King Simonides
	were of my mind,--

PERICLES	[Aside]  Simonides!

Third Fisherman	We would purge the land of these drones, that rob
	the bee of her honey.

PERICLES	[Aside]  How from the finny subject of the sea
	These fishers tell the infirmities of men;
	And from their watery empire recollect
	All that may men approve or men detect!
	Peace be at your labour, honest fishermen.

Second Fisherman	Honest! good fellow, what's that? If it be a day
	fits you, search out of the calendar, and nobody
	look after it.

PERICLES	May see the sea hath cast upon your coast.

Second Fisherman	What a drunken knave was the sea to cast thee in our
	way!

PERICLES	A man whom both the waters and the wind,
	In that vast tennis-court, have made the ball
	For them to play upon, entreats you pity him:
	He asks of you, that never used to beg.

First Fisherman	No, friend, cannot you beg? Here's them in our
	country Greece gets more with begging than we can do
	with working.

Second Fisherman	Canst thou catch any fishes, then?

PERICLES	I never practised it.

Second Fisherman	Nay, then thou wilt starve, sure; for here's nothing
	to be got now-a-days, unless thou canst fish for't.

PERICLES	What I have been I have forgot to know;
	But what I am, want teaches me to think on:
	A man throng'd up with cold: my veins are chill,
	And have no more of life than may suffice
	To give my tongue that heat to ask your help;
	Which if you shall refuse, when I am dead,
	For that I am a man, pray see me buried.

First Fisherman	Die quoth-a? Now gods forbid! I have a gown here;
	come, put it on; keep thee warm. Now, afore me, a
	handsome fellow! Come, thou shalt go home, and
	we'll have flesh for holidays, fish for
	fasting-days, and moreo'er puddings and flap-jacks,
	and thou shalt be welcome.

PERICLES	I thank you, sir.

Second Fisherman	Hark you, my friend; you said you could not beg.

PERICLES	I did but crave.

Second Fisherman	But crave! Then I'll turn craver too, and so I
	shall 'scape whipping.

PERICLES	Why, are all your beggars whipped, then?

Second Fisherman	O, not all, my friend, not all; for if all your
	beggars were whipped, I would wish no better office
	than to be beadle. But, master, I'll go draw up the
	net.

	[Exit with Third Fisherman]

PERICLES	[Aside]  How well this honest mirth becomes their labour!

First Fisherman	Hark you, sir, do you know where ye are?

PERICLES	Not well.

First Fisherman	Why, I'll tell you: this is called Pentapolis, and
	our king the good Simonides.

PERICLES	The good King Simonides, do you call him.

First Fisherman	Ay, sir; and he deserves so to be called for his
	peaceable reign and good government.

PERICLES	He is a happy king, since he gains from his subjects
	the name of good by his government. How far is his
	court distant from this shore?

First Fisherman	Marry, sir, half a day's journey: and I'll tell
	you, he hath a fair daughter, and to-morrow is her
	birth-day; and there are princes and knights come
	from all parts of the world to just and tourney for her love.

PERICLES	Were my fortunes equal to my desires, I could wish
	to make one there.

First Fisherman	O, sir, things must be as they may; and what a man
	cannot get, he may lawfully deal for--his wife's soul.

	[Re-enter Second and Third Fishermen, drawing up a net]

Second Fisherman	Help, master, help! here's a fish hangs in the net,
	like a poor man's right in the law; 'twill hardly
	come out. Ha! bots on't, 'tis come at last, and
	'tis turned to a rusty armour.

PERICLES	An armour, friends! I pray you, let me see it.
	Thanks, fortune, yet, that, after all my crosses,
	Thou givest me somewhat to repair myself;
	And though it was mine own, part of my heritage,
	Which my dead father did bequeath to me.
	With this strict charge, even as he left his life,
	'Keep it, my Pericles; it hath been a shield
	Twixt me and death;'--and pointed to this brace;--
	'For that it saved me, keep it; in like necessity--
	The which the gods protect thee from!--may
	defend thee.'
	It kept where I kept, I so dearly loved it;
	Till the rough seas, that spare not any man,
	Took it in rage, though calm'd have given't again:
	I thank thee for't: my shipwreck now's no ill,
	Since I have here my father's gift in's will.

First Fisherman	What mean you, sir?

PERICLES	To beg of you, kind friends, this coat of worth,
	For it was sometime target to a king;
	I know it by this mark. He loved me dearly,
	And for his sake I wish the having of it;
	And that you'ld guide me to your sovereign's court,
	Where with it I may appear a gentleman;
	And if that ever my low fortune's better,
	I'll pay your bounties; till then rest your debtor.

First Fisherman	Why, wilt thou tourney for the lady?

PERICLES	I'll show the virtue I have borne in arms.

First Fisherman	Why, do 'e take it, and the gods give thee good on't!

Second Fisherman	Ay, but hark you, my friend; 'twas we that made up
	this garment through the rough seams of the waters:
	there are certain condolements, certain vails. I
	hope, sir, if you thrive, you'll remember from
	whence you had it.

PERICLES	Believe 't, I will.
	By your furtherance I am clothed in steel;
	And, spite of all the rapture of the sea,
	This jewel holds his building on my arm:
	Unto thy value I will mount myself
	Upon a courser, whose delightful steps
	Shall make the gazer joy to see him tread.
	Only, my friend, I yet am unprovided
	Of a pair of bases.

Second Fisherman	We'll sure provide: thou shalt have my best gown to
	make thee a pair; and I'll bring thee to the court myself.

PERICLES	Then honour be but a goal to my will,
	This day I'll rise, or else add ill to ill.

	[Exeunt]




	PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE


ACT II



SCENE II	The same. A public way or platform leading to the
	lists. A pavilion by the side of it for the
	reception of King, Princess, Lords, &c.


	[Enter SIMONIDES, THAISA, Lords, and Attendants]

SIMONIDES	Are the knights ready to begin the triumph?

First Lord	They are, my liege;
	And stay your coming to present themselves.

SIMONIDES	Return them, we are ready; and our daughter,
	In honour of whose birth these triumphs are,
	Sits here, like beauty's child, whom nature gat
	For men to see, and seeing wonder at.

	[Exit a Lord]

THAISA	It pleaseth you, my royal father, to express
	My commendations great, whose merit's less.

SIMONIDES	It's fit it should be so; for princes are
	A model which heaven makes like to itself:
	As jewels lose their glory if neglected,
	So princes their renowns if not respected.
	'Tis now your honour, daughter, to explain
	The labour of each knight in his device.

THAISA	Which, to preserve mine honour, I'll perform.

	[Enter a Knight; he passes over, and his Squire
	presents his shield to the Princess]

SIMONIDES	Who is the first that doth prefer himself?

THAISA	A knight of Sparta, my renowned father;
	And the device he bears upon his shield
	Is a black Ethiope reaching at the sun
	The word, 'Lux tua vita mihi.'

SIMONIDES	He loves you well that holds his life of you.

	[The Second Knight passes over]

	Who is the second that presents himself?

THAISA	A prince of Macedon, my royal father;
	And the device he bears upon his shield
	Is an arm'd knight that's conquer'd by a lady;
	The motto thus, in Spanish, 'Piu por dulzura que por fuerza.'

	[The Third Knight passes over]

SIMONIDES	And what's the third?

THAISA	The third of Antioch;
	And his device, a wreath of chivalry;
	The word, 'Me pompae provexit apex.'

	[The Fourth Knight passes over]

SIMONIDES	What is the fourth?

THAISA	A burning torch that's turned upside down;
	The word, 'Quod me alit, me extinguit.'

SIMONIDES	Which shows that beauty hath his power and will,
	Which can as well inflame as it can kill.

	[The Fifth Knight passes over]

THAISA	The fifth, an hand environed with clouds,
	Holding out gold that's by the touchstone tried;
	The motto thus, 'Sic spectanda fides.'

	[The Sixth Knight, PERICLES, passes over]

SIMONIDES	And what's
	The sixth and last, the which the knight himself
	With such a graceful courtesy deliver'd?

THAISA	He seems to be a stranger; but his present is
	A wither'd branch, that's only green at top;
	The motto, 'In hac spe vivo.'

SIMONIDES	A pretty moral;
	From the dejected state wherein he is,
	He hopes by you his fortunes yet may flourish.

First Lord	He had need mean better than his outward show
	Can any way speak in his just commend;
	For by his rusty outside he appears
	To have practised more the whipstock than the lance.

Second Lord	He well may be a stranger, for he comes
	To an honour'd triumph strangely furnished.

Third Lord	And on set purpose let his armour rust
	Until this day, to scour it in the dust.

SIMONIDES	Opinion's but a fool, that makes us scan
	The outward habit by the inward man.
	But stay, the knights are coming: we will withdraw
	Into the gallery.

	[Exeunt]

	[Great shouts within and all cry 'The mean knight!']




	PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE


ACT II



SCENE III	The same. A hall of state: a banquet prepared.


	[Enter SIMONIDES, THAISA, Lords, Attendants, and
	Knights, from tilting]

SIMONIDES	Knights,
	To say you're welcome were superfluous.
	To place upon the volume of your deeds,
	As in a title-page, your worth in arms,
	Were more than you expect, or more than's fit,
	Since every worth in show commends itself.
	Prepare for mirth, for mirth becomes a feast:
	You are princes and my guests.

THAISA	But you, my knight and guest;
	To whom this wreath of victory I give,
	And crown you king of this day's happiness.

PERICLES	'Tis more by fortune, lady, than by merit.

SIMONIDES	Call it by what you will, the day is yours;
	And here, I hope, is none that envies it.
	In framing an artist, art hath thus decreed,
	To make some good, but others to exceed;
	And you are her labour'd scholar. Come, queen o'
	the feast,--
	For, daughter, so you are,--here take your place:
	Marshal the rest, as they deserve their grace.

KNIGHTS	We are honour'd much by good Simonides.

SIMONIDES	Your presence glads our days: honour we love;
	For who hates honour hates the gods above.

Marshal	Sir, yonder is your place.

PERICLES	Some other is more fit.

First Knight	Contend not, sir; for we are gentlemen
	That neither in our hearts nor outward eyes
	Envy the great nor do the low despise.

PERICLES	You are right courteous knights.

SIMONIDES	Sit, sir, sit.

PERICLES	By Jove, I wonder, that is king of thoughts,
	These cates resist me, she but thought upon.

THAISA	By Juno, that is queen of marriage,
	All viands that I eat do seem unsavoury.
	Wishing him my meat. Sure, he's a gallant gentleman.

SIMONIDES	He's but a country gentleman;
	Has done no more than other knights have done;
	Has broken a staff or so; so let it pass.

THAISA	To me he seems like diamond to glass.

PERICLES	Yon king's to me like to my father's picture,
	Which tells me in that glory once he was;
	Had princes sit, like stars, about his throne,
	And he the sun, for them to reverence;
	None that beheld him, but, like lesser lights,
	Did vail their crowns to his supremacy:
	Where now his son's like a glow-worm in the night,
	The which hath fire in darkness, none in light:
	Whereby I see that Time's the king of men,
	He's both their parent, and he is their grave,
	And gives them what he will, not what they crave.

SIMONIDES	What, are you merry, knights?

Knights	Who can be other in this royal presence?

SIMONIDES	Here, with a cup that's stored unto the brim,--
	As you do love, fill to your mistress' lips,--
	We drink this health to you.

KNIGHTS	We thank your grace.

SIMONIDES	Yet pause awhile:
	Yon knight doth sit too melancholy,
	As if the entertainment in our court
	Had not a show might countervail his worth.
	Note it not you, Thaisa?

THAISA	What is it
	To me, my father?

SIMONIDES	                  O, attend, my daughter:
	Princes in this should live like gods above,
	Who freely give to every one that comes
	To honour them:
	And princes not doing so are like to gnats,
	Which make a sound, but kill'd are wonder'd at.
	Therefore to make his entrance more sweet,
	Here, say we drink this standing-bowl of wine to him.

THAISA	Alas, my father, it befits not me
	Unto a stranger knight to be so bold:
	He may my proffer take for an offence,
	Since men take women's gifts for impudence.

SIMONIDES	How!
	Do as I bid you, or you'll move me else.

THAISA	[Aside]  Now, by the gods, he could not please me better.

SIMONIDES	And furthermore tell him, we desire to know of him,
	Of whence he is, his name and parentage.

THAISA	The king my father, sir, has drunk to you.

PERICLES	I thank him.

THAISA	Wishing it so much blood unto your life.

PERICLES	I thank both him and you, and pledge him freely.

THAISA	And further he desires to know of you,
	Of whence you are, your name and parentage.

PERICLES	A gentleman of Tyre; my name, Pericles;
	My education been in arts and arms;
	Who, looking for adventures in the world,
	Was by the rough seas reft of ships and men,
	And after shipwreck driven upon this shore.

THAISA	He thanks your grace; names himself Pericles,
	A gentleman of Tyre,
	Who only by misfortune of the seas
	Bereft of ships and men, cast on this shore.

SIMONIDES	Now, by the gods, I pity his misfortune,
	And will awake him from his melancholy.
	Come, gentlemen, we sit too long on trifles,
	And waste the time, which looks for other revels.
	Even in your armours, as you are address'd,
	Will very well become a soldier's dance.
	I will not have excuse, with saying this
	Loud music is too harsh for ladies' heads,
	Since they love men in arms as well as beds.

	[The Knights dance]

	So, this was well ask'd,'twas so well perform'd.
	Come, sir;
	Here is a lady that wants breathing too:
	And I have heard, you knights of Tyre
	Are excellent in making ladies trip;
	And that their measures are as excellent.

PERICLES	In those that practise them they are, my lord.

SIMONIDES	O, that's as much as you would be denied
	Of your fair courtesy.

	[The Knights and Ladies dance]

		 Unclasp, unclasp:
	Thanks, gentlemen, to all; all have done well.

	[To PERICLES]

	But you the best. Pages and lights, to conduct
	These knights unto their several lodgings!

	[To PERICLES]

			 Yours, sir,
	We have given order to be next our own.

PERICLES	I am at your grace's pleasure.

SIMONIDES	Princes, it is too late to talk of love;
	And that's the mark I know you level at:
	Therefore each one betake him to his rest;
	To-morrow all for speeding do their best.

	[Exeunt]



	PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE


ACT II



SCENE IV	Tyre. A room in the Governor's house.


	[Enter HELICANUS and ESCANES]

HELICANUS	No, Escanes, know this of me,
	Antiochus from incest lived not free:
	For which, the most high gods not minding longer
	To withhold the vengeance that they had in store,
	Due to this heinous capital offence,
	Even in the height and pride of all his glory,
	When he was seated in a chariot
	Of an inestimable value, and his daughter with him,
	A fire from heaven came and shrivell'd up
	Their bodies, even to loathing; for they so stunk,
	That all those eyes adored them ere their fall
	Scorn now their hand should give them burial.

ESCANES	'Twas very strange.

HELICANUS	And yet but justice; for though
	This king were great, his greatness was no guard
	To bar heaven's shaft, but sin had his reward.

ESCANES	'Tis very true.

	[Enter two or three Lords]

First Lord	See, not a man in private conference
	Or council has respect with him but he.

Second Lord	It shall no longer grieve without reproof.

Third Lord	And cursed be he that will not second it.

First Lord	Follow me, then. Lord Helicane, a word.

HELICANUS	With me? and welcome: happy day, my lords.

First Lord	Know that our griefs are risen to the top,
	And now at length they overflow their banks.

HELICANUS	Your griefs! for what? wrong not your prince you love.

First Lord	Wrong not yourself, then, noble Helicane;
	But if the prince do live, let us salute him,
	Or know what ground's made happy by his breath.
	If in the world he live, we'll seek him out;
	If in his grave he rest, we'll find him there;
	And be resolved he lives to govern us,
	Or dead, give's cause to mourn his funeral,
	And leave us to our free election.

Second Lord	Whose death indeed's the strongest in our censure:
	And knowing this kingdom is without a head,--
	Like goodly buildings left without a roof
	Soon fall to ruin,--your noble self,
	That best know how to rule and how to reign,
	We thus submit unto,--our sovereign.

All	Live, noble Helicane!

HELICANUS	For honour's cause, forbear your suffrages:
	If that you love Prince Pericles, forbear.
	Take I your wish, I leap into the seas,
	Where's hourly trouble for a minute's ease.
	A twelvemonth longer, let me entreat you to
	Forbear the absence of your king:
	If in which time expired, he not return,
	I shall with aged patience bear your yoke.
	But if I cannot win you to this love,
	Go search like nobles, like noble subjects,
	And in your search spend your adventurous worth;
	Whom if you find, and win unto return,
	You shall like diamonds sit about his crown.

First Lord	To wisdom he's a fool that will not yield;
	And since Lord Helicane enjoineth us,
	We with our travels will endeavour us.

HELICANUS	Then you love us, we you, and we'll clasp hands:
	When peers thus knit, a kingdom ever stands.

	[Exeunt]




	PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE


ACT II



SCENE V	Pentapolis. A room in the palace.


	[Enter SIMONIDES, reading a letter, at one door:
	the Knights meet him]

First Knight	Good morrow to the good Simonides.

SIMONIDES	Knights, from my daughter this I let you know,
	That for this twelvemonth she'll not undertake
	A married life.
	Her reason to herself is only known,
	Which yet from her by no means can I get.

Second Knight	May we not get access to her, my lord?

SIMONIDES	'Faith, by no means; she has so strictly tied
	Her to her chamber, that 'tis impossible.
	One twelve moons more she'll wear Diana's livery;
	This by the eye of Cynthia hath she vow'd
	And on her virgin honour will not break it.

Third Knight	Loath to bid farewell, we take our leaves.

	[Exeunt Knights]

SIMONIDES	So,
	They are well dispatch'd; now to my daughter's letter:
	She tells me here, she'd wed the stranger knight,
	Or never more to view nor day nor light.
	'Tis well, mistress; your choice agrees with mine;
	I like that well: nay, how absolute she's in't,
	Not minding whether I dislike or no!
	Well, I do commend her choice;
	And will no longer have it be delay'd.
	Soft! here he comes: I must dissemble it.

	[Enter PERICLES]

PERICLES	All fortune to the good Simonides!

SIMONIDES	To you as much, sir! I am beholding to you
	For your sweet music this last night: I do
	Protest my ears were never better fed
	With such delightful pleasing harmony.

PERICLES	It is your grace's pleasure to commend;
	Not my desert.

SIMONIDES	Sir, you are music's master.

PERICLES	The worst of all her scholars, my good lord.

SIMONIDES	Let me ask you one thing:
	What do you think of my daughter, sir?

PERICLES	A most virtuous princess.

SIMONIDES	And she is fair too, is she not?

PERICLES	As a fair day in summer, wondrous fair.

SIMONIDES	Sir, my daughter thinks very well of you;
	Ay, so well, that you must be her master,
	And she will be your scholar: therefore look to it.

PERICLES	I am unworthy for her schoolmaster.

SIMONIDES	She thinks not so; peruse this writing else.

PERICLES	[Aside]  What's here?
	A letter, that she loves the knight of Tyre!
	'Tis the king's subtlety to have my life.
	O, seek not to entrap me, gracious lord,
	A stranger and distressed gentleman,
	That never aim'd so high to love your daughter,
	But bent all offices to honour her.

SIMONIDES	Thou hast bewitch'd my daughter, and thou art
	A villain.

PERICLES	By the gods, I have not:
	Never did thought of mine levy offence;
	Nor never did my actions yet commence
	A deed might gain her love or your displeasure.

SIMONIDES	Traitor, thou liest.

PERICLES	Traitor!

SIMONIDES	Ay, traitor.

PERICLES	Even in his throat--unless it be the king--
	That calls me traitor, I return the lie.

SIMONIDES	[Aside]  Now, by the gods, I do applaud his courage.

PERICLES	My actions are as noble as my thoughts,
	That never relish'd of a base descent.
	I came unto your court for honour's cause,
	And not to be a rebel to her state;
	And he that otherwise accounts of me,
	This sword shall prove he's honour's enemy.

SIMONIDES	No?
	Here comes my daughter, she can witness it.

	[Enter THAISA]

PERICLES	Then, as you are as virtuous as fair,
	Resolve your angry father, if my tongue
	Did ere solicit, or my hand subscribe
	To any syllable that made love to you.

THAISA	Why, sir, say if you had,
	Who takes offence at that would make me glad?

SIMONIDES	Yea, mistress, are you so peremptory?

	[Aside]

	I am glad on't with all my heart.--
	I'll tame you; I'll bring you in subjection.
	Will you, not having my consent,
	Bestow your love and your affections
	Upon a stranger?

	[Aside]

	who, for aught I know,
	May be, nor can I think the contrary,
	As great in blood as I myself.--
	Therefore hear you, mistress; either frame
	Your will to mine,--and you, sir, hear you,
	Either be ruled by me, or I will make you--
	Man and wife:
	Nay, come, your hands and lips must seal it too:
	And being join'd, I'll thus your hopes destroy;
	And for a further grief,--God give you joy!--
	What, are you both pleased?

THAISA	Yes, if you love me, sir.

PERICLES	Even as my life, or blood that fosters it.

SIMONIDES	What, are you both agreed?

BOTH	Yes, if it please your majesty.

SIMONIDES	It pleaseth me so well, that I will see you wed;
	And then with what haste you can get you to bed.

	[Exeunt]




	PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE


ACT III


	[Enter GOWER]

GOWER	Now sleep y-slaked hath the rout;
	No din but snores the house about,
	Made louder by the o'er-fed breast
	Of this most pompous marriage-feast.
	The cat, with eyne of burning coal,
	Now crouches fore the mouse's hole;
	And crickets sing at the oven's mouth,
	E'er the blither for their drouth.
	Hymen hath brought the bride to bed.
	Where, by the loss of maidenhead,
	A babe is moulded. Be attent,
	And time that is so briefly spent
	With your fine fancies quaintly eche:
	What's dumb in show I'll plain with speech.

		DUMB SHOW.

	[Enter, PERICLES and SIMONIDES at one door, with
	Attendants; a Messenger meets them, kneels, and
	gives PERICLES a letter: PERICLES shows it
	SIMONIDES; the Lords kneel to him. Then enter
	THAISA with child, with LYCHORIDA a nurse. The
	KING shows her the letter; she rejoices: she and
	PERICLES takes leave of her father, and depart with
	LYCHORIDA and their Attendants. Then exeunt
	SIMONIDES and the rest]

	By many a dern and painful perch
	Of Pericles the careful search,
	By the four opposing coigns
	Which the world together joins,
	Is made with all due diligence
	That horse and sail and high expense
	Can stead the quest. At last from Tyre,
	Fame answering the most strange inquire,
	To the court of King Simonides
	Are letters brought, the tenor these:
	Antiochus and his daughter dead;
	The men of Tyrus on the head
	Of Helicanus would set on
	The crown of Tyre, but he will none:
	The mutiny he there hastes t' oppress;
	Says to 'em, if King Pericles
	Come not home in twice six moons,
	He, obedient to their dooms,
	Will take the crown. The sum of this,
	Brought hither to Pentapolis,
	Y-ravished the regions round,
	And every one with claps can sound,
	'Our heir-apparent is a king!
	Who dream'd, who thought of such a thing?'
	Brief, he must hence depart to Tyre:
	His queen with child makes her desire--
	Which who shall cross?--along to go:
	Omit we all their dole and woe:
	Lychorida, her nurse, she takes,
	And so to sea. Their vessel shakes
	On Neptune's billow; half the flood
	Hath their keel cut: but fortune's mood
	Varies again; the grisly north
	Disgorges such a tempest forth,
	That, as a duck for life that dives,
	So up and down the poor ship drives:
	The lady shrieks, and well-a-near
	Does fall in travail with her fear:
	And what ensues in this fell storm
	Shall for itself itself perform.
	I nill relate, action may
	Conveniently the rest convey;
	Which might not what by me is told.
	In your imagination hold
	This stage the ship, upon whose deck
	The sea-tost Pericles appears to speak.

	[Exit]




	PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE


ACT III



SCENE I:


	[Enter PERICLES, on shipboard]

PERICLES	Thou god of this great vast, rebuke these surges,
	Which wash both heaven and hell; and thou, that hast
	Upon the winds command, bind them in brass,
	Having call'd them from the deep! O, still
	Thy deafening, dreadful thunders; gently quench
	Thy nimble, sulphurous flashes! O, how, Lychorida,
	How does my queen? Thou stormest venomously;
	Wilt thou spit all thyself? The seaman's whistle
	Is as a whisper in the ears of death,
	Unheard. Lychorida!--Lucina, O
	Divinest patroness, and midwife gentle
	To those that cry by night, convey thy deity
	Aboard our dancing boat; make swift the pangs
	Of my queen's travails!

	[Enter LYCHORIDA, with an Infant]

		  Now, Lychorida!

LYCHORIDA	Here is a thing too young for such a place,
	Who, if it had conceit, would die, as I
	Am like to do: take in your arms this piece
	Of your dead queen.

PERICLES	How, how, Lychorida!

LYCHORIDA	Patience, good sir; do not assist the storm.
	Here's all that is left living of your queen,
	A little daughter: for the sake of it,
	Be manly, and take comfort.

PERICLES	O you gods!
	Why do you make us love your goodly gifts,
	And snatch them straight away? We here below
	Recall not what we give, and therein may
	Use honour with you.

LYCHORIDA	Patience, good sir,
	Even for this charge.

PERICLES	Now, mild may be thy life!
	For a more blustrous birth had never babe:
	Quiet and gentle thy conditions! for
	Thou art the rudeliest welcome to this world
	That ever was prince's child. Happy what follows!
	Thou hast as chiding a nativity
	As fire, air, water, earth, and heaven can make,
	To herald thee from the womb: even at the first
	Thy loss is more than can thy portage quit,
	With all thou canst find here. Now, the good gods
	Throw their best eyes upon't!

	[Enter two Sailors]

First Sailor	What courage, sir? God save you!

PERICLES	Courage enough: I do not fear the flaw;
	It hath done to me the worst. Yet, for the love
	Of this poor infant, this fresh-new sea-farer,
	I would it would be quiet.

First Sailor	Slack the bolins there! Thou wilt not, wilt thou?
	Blow, and split thyself.

Second Sailor	But sea-room, an the brine and cloudy billow kiss
	the moon, I care not.

First Sailor	Sir, your queen must overboard: the sea works high,
	the wind is loud, and will not lie till the ship be
	cleared of the dead.

PERICLES	That's your superstition.

First Sailor	Pardon us, sir; with us at sea it hath been still
	observed: and we are strong in custom. Therefore
	briefly yield her; for she must overboard straight.

PERICLES	As you think meet. Most wretched queen!

LYCHORIDA	Here she lies, sir.

PERICLES	A terrible childbed hast thou had, my dear;
	No light, no fire: the unfriendly elements
	Forgot thee utterly: nor have I time
	To give thee hallow'd to thy grave, but straight
	Must cast thee, scarcely coffin'd, in the ooze;
	Where, for a monument upon thy bones,
	And e'er-remaining lamps, the belching whale
	And humming water must o'erwhelm thy corpse,
	Lying with simple shells. O Lychorida,
	Bid Nestor bring me spices, ink and paper,
	My casket and my jewels; and bid Nicander
	Bring me the satin coffer: lay the babe
	Upon the pillow: hie thee, whiles I say
	A priestly farewell to her: suddenly, woman.

	[Exit LYCHORIDA]

Second Sailor	Sir, we have a chest beneath the hatches, caulked
	and bitumed ready.

PERICLES	I thank thee. Mariner, say what coast is this?

Second Sailor	We are near Tarsus.

PERICLES	Thither, gentle mariner.
	Alter thy course for Tyre. When canst thou reach it?

Second Sailor	By break of day, if the wind cease.

PERICLES	O, make for Tarsus!
	There will I visit Cleon, for the babe
	Cannot hold out to Tyrus: there I'll leave it
	At careful nursing. Go thy ways, good mariner:
	I'll bring the body presently.

	[Exeunt]




	PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE


ACT III



SCENE II	Ephesus. A room in CERIMON's house.


	[Enter CERIMON, with a Servant, and some Persons who
	have been shipwrecked]

CERIMON	Philemon, ho!

	[Enter PHILEMON]

PHILEMON	Doth my lord call?

CERIMON	Get fire and meat for these poor men:
	'T has been a turbulent and stormy night.

Servant	I have been in many; but such a night as this,
	Till now, I ne'er endured.

CERIMON	Your master will be dead ere you return;
	There's nothing can be minister'd to nature
	That can recover him.

	[To PHILEMON]

		Give this to the 'pothecary,
	And tell me how it works.

	[Exeunt all but CERIMON]

	[Enter two Gentlemen]

First Gentleman	Good morrow.

Second Gentleman	Good morrow to your lordship.

CERIMON	Gentlemen,
	Why do you stir so early?

First Gentleman	Sir,
	Our lodgings, standing bleak upon the sea,
	Shook as the earth did quake;
	The very principals did seem to rend,
	And all-to topple: pure surprise and fear
	Made me to quit the house.

Second Gentleman	That is the cause we trouble you so early;
	'Tis not our husbandry.

CERIMON	O, you say well.

First Gentleman	But I much marvel that your lordship, having
	Rich tire about you, should at these early hours
	Shake off the golden slumber of repose.
	'Tis most strange,
	Nature should be so conversant with pain,
	Being thereto not compell'd.

CERIMON	I hold it ever,
	Virtue and cunning were endowments greater
	Than nobleness and riches: careless heirs
	May the two latter darken and expend;
	But immortality attends the former.
	Making a man a god. 'Tis known, I ever
	Have studied physic, through which secret art,
	By turning o'er authorities, I have,
	Together with my practise, made familiar
	To me and to my aid the blest infusions
	That dwell in vegetives, in metals, stones;
	And I can speak of the disturbances
	That nature works, and of her cures; which doth give me
	A more content in course of true delight
	Than to be thirsty after tottering honour,
	Or tie my treasure up in silken bags,
	To please the fool and death.

Second Gentleman	Your honour has through Ephesus pour'd forth
	Your charity, and hundreds call themselves
	Your creatures, who by you have been restored:
	And not your knowledge, your personal pain, but even
	Your purse, still open, hath built Lord Cerimon
	Such strong renown as time shall ne'er decay.

	[Enter two or three Servants with a chest]

First Servant	So; lift there.

CERIMON	                  What is that?

First Servant	Sir, even now
	Did the sea toss upon our shore this chest:
	'Tis of some wreck.

CERIMON	Set 't down, let's look upon't.

Second Gentleman	'Tis like a coffin, sir.

CERIMON	Whate'er it be,
	'Tis wondrous heavy. Wrench it open straight:
	If the sea's stomach be o'ercharged with gold,
	'Tis a good constraint of fortune it belches upon us.

Second Gentleman	'Tis so, my lord.

CERIMON	                  How close 'tis caulk'd and bitumed!
	Did the sea cast it up?

First Servant	I never saw so huge a billow, sir,
	As toss'd it upon shore.

CERIMON	Wrench it open;
	Soft! it smells most sweetly in my sense.

Second Gentleman	A delicate odour.

CERIMON	As ever hit my nostril. So, up with it.
	O you most potent gods! what's here? a corse!

First Gentleman	Most strange!

CERIMON	Shrouded in cloth of state; balm'd and entreasured
	With full bags of spices! A passport too!
	Apollo, perfect me in the characters!

	[Reads from a scroll]

	'Here I give to understand,
	If e'er this coffin drive a-land,
	I, King Pericles, have lost
	This queen, worth all our mundane cost.
	Who finds her, give her burying;
	She was the daughter of a king:
	Besides this treasure for a fee,
	The gods requite his charity!'

	If thou livest, Pericles, thou hast a heart
	That even cracks for woe! This chanced tonight.

Second Gentleman	Most likely, sir.

CERIMON	                  Nay, certainly to-night;
	For look how fresh she looks! They were too rough
	That threw her in the sea. Make a fire within:
	Fetch hither all my boxes in my closet.

	[Exit a Servant]

	Death may usurp on nature many hours,
	And yet the fire of life kindle again
	The o'erpress'd spirits. I heard of an Egyptian
	That had nine hours lien dead,
	Who was by good appliance recovered.

	[Re-enter a Servant, with boxes, napkins, and fire]

	Well said, well said; the fire and cloths.
	The rough and woeful music that we have,
	Cause it to sound, beseech you.
	The viol once more: how thou stirr'st, thou block!
	The music there!--I pray you, give her air.
	Gentlemen.
	This queen will live: nature awakes; a warmth
	Breathes out of her: she hath not been entranced
	Above five hours: see how she gins to blow
	Into life's flower again!

First Gentleman	The heavens,
	Through you, increase our wonder and set up
	Your fame forever.

CERIMON	                  She is alive; behold,
	Her eyelids, cases to those heavenly jewels
	Which Pericles hath lost,
	Begin to part their fringes of bright gold;
	The diamonds of a most praised water
	Do appear, to make the world twice rich. Live,
	And make us weep to hear your fate, fair creature,
	Rare as you seem to be.

	[She moves]

THAISA	O dear Diana,
	Where am I? Where's my lord? What world is this?

Second Gentleman	Is not this strange?

First Gentleman	Most rare.

CERIMON	Hush, my gentle neighbours!
	Lend me your hands; to the next chamber bear her.
	Get linen: now this matter must be look'd to,
	For her relapse is mortal. Come, come;
	And AEsculapius guide us!

	[Exeunt, carrying her away]




	PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE


ACT III



SCENE III	Tarsus. A room in CLEON's house.


	[Enter PERICLES, CLEON, DIONYZA, and LYCHORIDA with
	MARINA in her arms]

PERICLES	 Most honour'd Cleon, I must needs be gone;
	My twelve months are expired, and Tyrus stands
	In a litigious peace. You, and your lady,
	Take from my heart all thankfulness! The gods
	Make up the rest upon you!

CLEON	Your shafts of fortune, though they hurt you mortally,
	Yet glance full wanderingly on us.

DIONYZA	O your sweet queen!
	That the strict fates had pleased you had brought her hither,
	To have bless'd mine eyes with her!

PERICLES	We cannot but obey
	The powers above us. Could I rage and roar
	As doth the sea she lies in, yet the end
	Must be as 'tis. My gentle babe Marina, whom,
	For she was born at sea, I have named so, here
	I charge your charity withal, leaving her
	The infant of your care; beseeching you
	To give her princely training, that she may be
	Manner'd as she is born.

CLEON	Fear not, my lord, but think
	Your grace, that fed my country with your corn,
	For which the people's prayers still fall upon you,
	Must in your child be thought on. If neglection
	Should therein make me vile, the common body,
	By you relieved, would force me to my duty:
	But if to that my nature need a spur,
	The gods revenge it upon me and mine,
	To the end of generation!

PERICLES	I believe you;
	Your honour and your goodness teach me to't,
	Without your vows. Till she be married, madam,
	By bright Diana, whom we honour, all
	Unscissor'd shall this hair of mine remain,
	Though I show ill in't. So I take my leave.
	Good madam, make me blessed in your care
	In bringing up my child.

DIONYZA	I have one myself,
	Who shall not be more dear to my respect
	Than yours, my lord.

PERICLES	Madam, my thanks and prayers.

CLEON	We'll bring your grace e'en to the edge o' the shore,
	Then give you up to the mask'd Neptune and
	The gentlest winds of heaven.

PERICLES	I will embrace
	Your offer. Come, dearest madam. O, no tears,
	Lychorida, no tears:
	Look to your little mistress, on whose grace
	You may depend hereafter. Come, my lord.

	[Exeunt]




	PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE


ACT III



SCENE IV	Ephesus. A room in CERIMON's house.


	[Enter CERIMON and THAISA]

CERIMON	Madam, this letter, and some certain jewels,
	Lay with you in your coffer: which are now
	At your command. Know you the character?

THAISA	It is my lord's.
	That I was shipp'd at sea, I well remember,
	Even on my eaning time; but whether there
	Deliver'd, by the holy gods,
	I cannot rightly say. But since King Pericles,
	My wedded lord, I ne'er shall see again,
	A vestal livery will I take me to,
	And never more have joy.

CERIMON	Madam, if this you purpose as ye speak,
	Diana's temple is not distant far,
	Where you may abide till your date expire.
	Moreover, if you please, a niece of mine
	Shall there attend you.

THAISA	My recompense is thanks, that's all;
	Yet my good will is great, though the gift small.

	[Exeunt]




	PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE


ACT IV


	[Enter GOWER]

GOWER	Imagine Pericles arrived at Tyre,
	Welcomed and settled to his own desire.
	His woeful queen we leave at Ephesus,
	Unto Diana there a votaress.
	Now to Marina bend your mind,
	Whom our fast-growing scene must find
	At Tarsus, and by Cleon train'd
	In music, letters; who hath gain'd
	Of education all the grace,
	Which makes her both the heart and place
	Of general wonder. But, alack,
	That monster envy, oft the wrack
	Of earned praise, Marina's life
	Seeks to take off by treason's knife.
	And in this kind hath our Cleon
	One daughter, and a wench full grown,
	Even ripe for marriage-rite; this maid
	Hight Philoten: and it is said
	For certain in our story, she
	Would ever with Marina be:
	Be't when she weaved the sleided silk
	With fingers long, small, white as milk;
	Or when she would with sharp needle wound
	The cambric, which she made more sound
	By hurting it; or when to the lute
	She sung, and made the night-bird mute,
	That still records with moan; or when
	She would with rich and constant pen
	Vail to her mistress Dian; still
	This Philoten contends in skill
	With absolute Marina: so
	With the dove of Paphos might the crow
	Vie feathers white. Marina gets
	All praises, which are paid as debts,
	And not as given. This so darks
	In Philoten all graceful marks,
	That Cleon's wife, with envy rare,
	A present murderer does prepare
	For good Marina, that her daughter
	Might stand peerless by this slaughter.
	The sooner her vile thoughts to stead,
	Lychorida, our nurse, is dead:
	And cursed Dionyza hath
	The pregnant instrument of wrath
	Prest for this blow. The unborn event
	I do commend to your content:
	Only I carry winged time
	Post on the lame feet of my rhyme;
	Which never could I so convey,
	Unless your thoughts went on my way.
	Dionyza does appear,
	With Leonine, a murderer.

	[Exit]




	PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE


ACT IV



SCENE I	Tarsus. An open place near the sea-shore.


	[Enter DIONYZA and LEONINE]

DIONYZA	Thy oath remember; thou hast sworn to do't:
	'Tis but a blow, which never shall be known.
	Thou canst not do a thing in the world so soon,
	To yield thee so much profit. Let not conscience,
	Which is but cold, inflaming love i' thy bosom,
	Inflame too nicely; nor let pity, which
	Even women have cast off, melt thee, but be
	A soldier to thy purpose.

LEONINE	I will do't; but yet she is a goodly creature.

DIONYZA	The fitter, then, the gods should have her. Here
	she comes weeping for her only mistress' death.
	Thou art resolved?

LEONINE	I am resolved.

	[Enter MARINA, with a basket of flowers]

MARINA	No, I will rob Tellus of her weed,
	To strew thy green with flowers: the yellows, blues,
	The purple violets, and marigolds,
	Shall as a carpet hang upon thy grave,
	While summer-days do last. Ay me! poor maid,
	Born in a tempest, when my mother died,
	This world to me is like a lasting storm,
	Whirring me from my friends.

DIONYZA	How now, Marina! why do you keep alone?
	How chance my daughter is not with you? Do not
	Consume your blood with sorrowing: you have
	A nurse of me. Lord, how your favour's changed
	With this unprofitable woe!
	Come, give me your flowers, ere the sea mar it.
	Walk with Leonine; the air is quick there,
	And it pierces and sharpens the stomach. Come,
	Leonine, take her by the arm, walk with her.

MARINA	No, I pray you;
	I'll not bereave you of your servant.

DIONYZA	Come, come;
	I love the king your father, and yourself,
	With more than foreign heart. We every day
	Expect him here: when he shall come and find
	Our paragon to all reports thus blasted,
	He will repent the breadth of his great voyage;
	Blame both my lord and me, that we have taken
	No care to your best courses. Go, I pray you,
	Walk, and be cheerful once again; reserve
	That excellent complexion, which did steal
	The eyes of young and old. Care not for me
	I can go home alone.

MARINA	Well, I will go;
	But yet I have no desire to it.

DIONYZA	Come, come, I know 'tis good for you.
	Walk half an hour, Leonine, at the least:
	Remember what I have said.

LEONINE	I warrant you, madam.

DIONYZA	I'll leave you, my sweet lady, for a while:
	Pray, walk softly, do not heat your blood:
	What! I must have a care of you.

MARINA	My thanks, sweet madam.

	[Exit DIONYZA]

	Is this wind westerly that blows?

LEONINE	South-west.

MARINA	When I was born, the wind was north.

LEONINE	Was't so?

MARINA	My father, as nurse said, did never fear,
	But cried 'Good seaman!' to the sailors, galling
	His kingly hands, haling ropes;
	And, clasping to the mast, endured a sea
	That almost burst the deck.

LEONINE	When was this?

MARINA	When I was born:
	Never was waves nor wind more violent;
	And from the ladder-tackle washes off
	A canvas-climber. 'Ha!' says one, 'wilt out?'
	And with a dropping industry they skip
	From stem to stern: the boatswain whistles, and
	The master calls, and trebles their confusion.

LEONINE	Come, say your prayers.

MARINA	What mean you?

LEONINE	If you require a little space for prayer,
	I grant it: pray; but be not tedious,
	For the gods are quick of ear, and I am sworn
	To do my work with haste.

MARINA	Why will you kill me?

LEONINE	To satisfy my lady.

MARINA	Why would she have me kill'd?
	Now, as I can remember, by my troth,
	I never did her hurt in all my life:
	I never spake bad word, nor did ill turn
	To any living creature: believe me, la,
	I never kill'd a mouse, nor hurt a fly:
	I trod upon a worm against my will,
	But I wept for it. How have I offended,
	Wherein my death might yield her any profit,
	Or my life imply her any danger?

LEONINE	My commission
	Is not to reason of the deed, but do it.

MARINA	You will not do't for all the world, I hope.
	You are well favour'd, and your looks foreshow
	You have a gentle heart. I saw you lately,
	When you caught hurt in parting two that fought:
	Good sooth, it show'd well in you: do so now:
	Your lady seeks my life; come you between,
	And save poor me, the weaker.

LEONINE	I am sworn,
	And will dispatch.

	[He seizes her]

	[Enter Pirates]

First Pirate	Hold, villain!

	[LEONINE runs away]

Second Pirate	A prize! a prize!

Third Pirate	Half-part, mates, half-part.
	Come, let's have her aboard suddenly.

	[Exeunt Pirates with MARINA]

	[Re-enter LEONINE]

LEONINE	These roguing thieves serve the great pirate Valdes;
	And they have seized Marina. Let her go:
	There's no hope she will return. I'll swear
	she's dead,
	And thrown into the sea. But I'll see further:
	Perhaps they will but please themselves upon her,
	Not carry her aboard. If she remain,
	Whom they have ravish'd must by me be slain.

	[Exit]




	PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE


ACT IV



SCENE II	Mytilene. A room in a brothel.


	[Enter Pandar, Bawd, and BOULT]

Pandar	Boult!

BOULT	Sir?

Pandar	Search the market narrowly; Mytilene is full of
	gallants. We lost too much money this mart by being
	too wenchless.

Bawd	We were never so much out of creatures. We have but
	poor three, and they can do no more than they can
	do; and they with continual action are even as good as rotten.

Pandar	Therefore let's have fresh ones, whate'er we pay for
	them. If there be not a conscience to be used in
	every trade, we shall never prosper.

Bawd	Thou sayest true: 'tis not our bringing up of poor
	bastards,--as, I think, I have brought up some eleven--

BOULT	Ay, to eleven; and brought them down again. But
	shall I search the market?

Bawd	What else, man? The stuff we have, a strong wind
	will blow it to pieces, they are so pitifully sodden.

Pandar	Thou sayest true; they're too unwholesome, o'
	conscience. The poor Transylvanian is dead, that
	lay with the little baggage.

BOULT	Ay, she quickly pooped him; she made him roast-meat
	for worms. But I'll go search the market.

	[Exit]

Pandar	Three or four thousand chequins were as pretty a
	proportion to live quietly, and so give over.

Bawd	Why to give over, I pray you? is it a shame to get
	when we are old?

Pandar	O, our credit comes not in like the commodity, nor
	the commodity wages not with the danger: therefore,
	if in our youths we could pick up some pretty
	estate, 'twere not amiss to keep our door hatched.
	Besides, the sore terms we stand upon with the gods
	will be strong with us for giving over.

Bawd	Come, other sorts offend as well as we.

Pandar	As well as we! ay, and better too; we offend worse.
	Neither is our profession any trade; it's no
	calling. But here comes Boult.

	[Re-enter BOULT, with the Pirates and MARINA]

BOULT	[To MARINA]  Come your ways. My masters, you say
	she's a virgin?

First Pirate	O, sir, we doubt it not.

BOULT	Master, I have gone through for this piece, you see:
	if you like her, so; if not, I have lost my earnest.

Bawd	Boult, has she any qualities?

BOULT	She has a good face, speaks well, and has excellent
	good clothes: there's no further necessity of
	qualities can make her be refused.

Bawd	What's her price, Boult?

BOULT	I cannot be bated one doit of a thousand pieces.

Pandar	Well, follow me, my masters, you shall have your
	money presently. Wife, take her in; instruct her
	what she has to do, that she may not be raw in her
	entertainment.

	[Exeunt Pandar and Pirates]

Bawd	Boult, take you the marks of her, the colour of her
	hair, complexion, height, age, with warrant of her
	virginity; and cry 'He that will give most shall
	have her first.' Such a maidenhead were no cheap
	thing, if men were as they have been. Get this done
	as I command you.

BOULT	Performance shall follow.

	[Exit]

MARINA	Alack that Leonine was so slack, so slow!
	He should have struck, not spoke; or that these pirates,
	Not enough barbarous, had not o'erboard thrown me
	For to seek my mother!

Bawd	Why lament you, pretty one?

MARINA	That I am pretty.

Bawd	Come, the gods have done their part in you.

MARINA	I accuse them not.

Bawd	You are light into my hands, where you are like to live.

MARINA	The more my fault
	To scape his hands where I was like to die.

Bawd	Ay, and you shall live in pleasure.

MARINA	No.

Bawd	Yes, indeed shall you, and taste gentlemen of all
	fashions: you shall fare well; you shall have the
	difference of all complexions. What! do you stop your ears?

MARINA	Are you a woman?

Bawd	What would you have me be, an I be not a woman?

MARINA	An honest woman, or not a woman.

Bawd	Marry, whip thee, gosling: I think I shall have
	something to do with you. Come, you're a young
	foolish sapling, and must be bowed as I would have
	you.

MARINA	The gods defend me!

Bawd	If it please the gods to defend you by men, then men
	must comfort you, men must feed you, men must stir
	you up. Boult's returned.

	[Re-enter BOULT]

	Now, sir, hast thou cried her through the market?

BOULT	I have cried her almost to the number of her hairs;
	I have drawn her picture with my voice.

Bawd	And I prithee tell me, how dost thou find the
	inclination of the people, especially of the younger sort?

BOULT	'Faith, they listened to me as they would have
	hearkened to their father's testament. There was a
	Spaniard's mouth so watered, that he went to bed to
	her very description.

Bawd	We shall have him here to-morrow with his best ruff on.

BOULT	To-night, to-night. But, mistress, do you know the
	French knight that cowers i' the hams?

Bawd	Who, Monsieur Veroles?

BOULT	Ay, he: he offered to cut a caper at the
	proclamation; but he made a groan at it, and swore
	he would see her to-morrow.

Bawd	Well, well; as for him, he brought his disease
	hither: here he does but repair it. I know he will
	come in our shadow, to scatter his crowns in the
	sun.

BOULT	Well, if we had of every nation a traveller, we
	should lodge them with this sign.

Bawd	[To MARINA]  Pray you, come hither awhile. You
	have fortunes coming upon you. Mark me: you must
	seem to do that fearfully which you commit
	willingly, despise profit where you have most gain.
	To weep that you live as ye do makes pity in your
	lovers: seldom but that pity begets you a good
	opinion, and that opinion a mere profit.

MARINA	I understand you not.

BOULT	O, take her home, mistress, take her home: these
	blushes of hers must be quenched with some present practise.

Bawd	Thou sayest true, i' faith, so they must; for your
	bride goes to that with shame which is her way to go
	with warrant.

BOULT	'Faith, some do, and some do not. But, mistress, if
	I have bargained for the joint,--

Bawd	Thou mayst cut a morsel off the spit.

BOULT	I may so.

Bawd	Who should deny it? Come, young one, I like the
	manner of your garments well.

BOULT	Ay, by my faith, they shall not be changed yet.

Bawd	Boult, spend thou that in the town: report what a
	sojourner we have; you'll lose nothing by custom.
	When nature flamed this piece, she meant thee a good
	turn; therefore say what a paragon she is, and thou
	hast the harvest out of thine own report.

BOULT	I warrant you, mistress, thunder shall not so awake
	the beds of eels as my giving out her beauty stir up
	the lewdly-inclined. I'll bring home some to-night.

Bawd	Come your ways; follow me.

MARINA	If fires be hot, knives sharp, or waters deep,
	Untied I still my virgin knot will keep.
	Diana, aid my purpose!

Bawd	What have we to do with Diana? Pray you, will you go with us?

	[Exeunt]




	PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE


ACT IV



SCENE III	Tarsus. A room in CLEON's house.


	[Enter CLEON and DIONYZA]

DIONYZA	Why, are you foolish? Can it be undone?

CLEON	O Dionyza, such a piece of slaughter
	The sun and moon ne'er look'd upon!

DIONYZA	I think
	You'll turn a child again.

CLEON	Were I chief lord of all this spacious world,
	I'ld give it to undo the deed. O lady,
	Much less in blood than virtue, yet a princess
	To equal any single crown o' the earth
	I' the justice of compare! O villain Leonine!
	Whom thou hast poison'd too:
	If thou hadst drunk to him, 't had been a kindness
	Becoming well thy fact: what canst thou say
	When noble Pericles shall demand his child?

DIONYZA	That she is dead. Nurses are not the fates,
	To foster it, nor ever to preserve.
	She died at night; I'll say so. Who can cross it?
	Unless you play the pious innocent,
	And for an honest attribute cry out
	'She died by foul play.'

CLEON	O, go to. Well, well,
	Of all the faults beneath the heavens, the gods
	Do like this worst.

DIONYZA	Be one of those that think
	The petty wrens of Tarsus will fly hence,
	And open this to Pericles. I do shame
	To think of what a noble strain you are,
	And of how coward a spirit.

CLEON	To such proceeding
	Who ever but his approbation added,
	Though not his prime consent, he did not flow
	From honourable sources.

DIONYZA	Be it so, then:
	Yet none does know, but you, how she came dead,
	Nor none can know, Leonine being gone.
	She did disdain my child, and stood between
	Her and her fortunes: none would look on her,
	But cast their gazes on Marina's face;
	Whilst ours was blurted at and held a malkin
	Not worth the time of day. It pierced me through;
	And though you call my course unnatural,
	You not your child well loving, yet I find
	It greets me as an enterprise of kindness
	Perform'd to your sole daughter.

CLEON	Heavens forgive it!

DIONYZA	And as for Pericles,
	What should he say? We wept after her hearse,
	And yet we mourn: her monument
	Is almost finish'd, and her epitaphs
	In glittering golden characters express
	A general praise to her, and care in us
	At whose expense 'tis done.

CLEON	Thou art like the harpy,
	Which, to betray, dost, with thine angel's face,
	Seize with thine eagle's talons.

DIONYZA	You are like one that superstitiously
	Doth swear to the gods that winter kills the flies:
	But yet I know you'll do as I advise.

	[Exeunt]




	PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE


ACT IV



SCENE IV:


	[Enter GOWER, before the monument of MARINA at Tarsus]

GOWER	Thus time we waste, and longest leagues make short;
	Sail seas in cockles, have an wish but for't;
	Making, to take your imagination,
	From bourn to bourn, region to region.
	By you being pardon'd, we commit no crime
	To use one language in each several clime
	Where our scenes seem to live. I do beseech you
	To learn of me, who stand i' the gaps to teach you,
	The stages of our story. Pericles
	Is now again thwarting the wayward seas,
	Attended on by many a lord and knight.
	To see his daughter, all his life's delight.
	Old Escanes, whom Helicanus late
	Advanced in time to great and high estate,
	Is left to govern. Bear you it in mind,
	Old Helicanus goes along behind.
	Well-sailing ships and bounteous winds have brought
	This king to Tarsus,--think his pilot thought;
	So with his steerage shall your thoughts grow on,--
	To fetch his daughter home, who first is gone.
	Like motes and shadows see them move awhile;
	Your ears unto your eyes I'll reconcile.

	DUMB SHOW.

	[Enter PERICLES, at one door, with all his train;
	CLEON and DIONYZA, at the other. CLEON shows
	PERICLES the tomb; whereat PERICLES makes
	lamentation, puts on sackcloth, and in a mighty
	passion departs. Then exeunt CLEON and DIONYZA]

	See how belief may suffer by foul show!
	This borrow'd passion stands for true old woe;
	And Pericles, in sorrow all devour'd,
	With sighs shot through, and biggest tears
	o'ershower'd,
	Leaves Tarsus and again embarks. He swears
	Never to wash his face, nor cut his hairs:
	He puts on sackcloth, and to sea. He bears
	A tempest, which his mortal vessel tears,
	And yet he rides it out. Now please you wit.
	The epitaph is for Marina writ
	By wicked Dionyza.

	[Reads the inscription on MARINA's monument]

	'The fairest, sweet'st, and best lies here,
	Who wither'd in her spring of year.
	She was of Tyrus the king's daughter,
	On whom foul death hath made this slaughter;
	Marina was she call'd; and at her birth,
	Thetis, being proud, swallow'd some part o' the earth:
	Therefore the earth, fearing to be o'erflow'd,
	Hath Thetis' birth-child on the heavens bestow'd:
	Wherefore she does, and swears she'll never stint,
	Make raging battery upon shores of flint.'

	No visor does become black villany
	So well as soft and tender flattery.
	Let Pericles believe his daughter's dead,
	And bear his courses to be ordered
	By Lady Fortune; while our scene must play
	His daughter's woe and heavy well-a-day
	In her unholy service. Patience, then,
	And think you now are all in Mytilene.

	[Exit]




	PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE


ACT IV



SCENE V	Mytilene. A street before the brothel.


	[Enter, from the brothel, two Gentlemen]

First Gentleman	Did you ever hear the like?

Second Gentleman	No, nor never shall do in such a place as this, she
	being once gone.

First Gentleman	But to have divinity preached there! did you ever
	dream of such a thing?

Second Gentleman	No, no. Come, I am for no more bawdy-houses:
	shall's go hear the vestals sing?

First Gentleman	I'll do any thing now that is virtuous; but I
	am out of the road of rutting for ever.

	[Exeunt]




	PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE


ACT IV



SCENE VI	The same. A room in the brothel.


	[Enter Pandar, Bawd, and BOULT]

Pandar	Well, I had rather than twice the worth of her she
	had ne'er come here.

Bawd	Fie, fie upon her! she's able to freeze the god
	Priapus, and undo a whole generation. We must
	either get her ravished, or be rid of her. When she
	should do for clients her fitment, and do me the
	kindness of our profession, she has me her quirks,
	her reasons, her master reasons, her prayers, her
	knees; that she would make a puritan of the devil,
	if he should cheapen a kiss of her.

BOULT	'Faith, I must ravish her, or she'll disfurnish us
	of all our cavaliers, and make our swearers priests.

Pandar	Now, the pox upon her green-sickness for me!

Bawd	'Faith, there's no way to be rid on't but by the
	way to the pox. Here comes the Lord Lysimachus disguised.

BOULT	We should have both lord and lown, if the peevish
	baggage would but give way to customers.

	[Enter LYSIMACHUS]

LYSIMACHUS	How now! How a dozen of virginities?

Bawd	Now, the gods to-bless your honour!

BOULT	I am glad to see your honour in good health.

LYSIMACHUS	You may so; 'tis the better for you that your
	resorters stand upon sound legs. How now!
	wholesome iniquity have you that a man may deal
	withal, and defy the surgeon?

Bawd	We have here one, sir, if she would--but there never
	came her like in Mytilene.

LYSIMACHUS	If she'ld do the deed of darkness, thou wouldst say.

Bawd	Your honour knows what 'tis to say well enough.

LYSIMACHUS	Well, call forth, call forth.

BOULT	For flesh and blood, sir, white and red, you shall
	see a rose; and she were a rose indeed, if she had but--

LYSIMACHUS	What, prithee?

BOULT	O, sir, I can be modest.

LYSIMACHUS	That dignifies the renown of a bawd, no less than it
	gives a good report to a number to be chaste.

	[Exit BOULT]

Bawd	Here comes that which grows to the stalk; never
	plucked yet, I can assure you.

	[Re-enter BOULT with MARINA]

	Is she not a fair creature?

LYSIMACHUS	'Faith, she would serve after a long voyage at sea.
	Well, there's for you: leave us.

Bawd	I beseech your honour, give me leave: a word, and
	I'll have done presently.

LYSIMACHUS	I beseech you, do.

Bawd	[To MARINA]  First, I would have you note, this is
	an honourable man.

MARINA	I desire to find him so, that I may worthily note him.

Bawd	Next, he's the governor of this country, and a man
	whom I am bound to.

MARINA	If he govern the country, you are bound to him
	indeed; but how honourable he is in that, I know not.

Bawd	Pray you, without any more virginal fencing, will
	you use him kindly? He will line your apron with gold.

MARINA	What he will do graciously, I will thankfully receive.

LYSIMACHUS	Ha' you done?

Bawd	My lord, she's not paced yet: you must take some
	pains to work her to your manage. Come, we will
	leave his honour and her together. Go thy ways.

	[Exeunt Bawd, Pandar, and BOULT]

LYSIMACHUS	Now, pretty one, how long have you been at this trade?

MARINA	What trade, sir?

LYSIMACHUS	Why, I cannot name't but I shall offend.

MARINA	I cannot be offended with my trade. Please you to name it.

LYSIMACHUS	How long have you been of this profession?

MARINA	E'er since I can remember.

LYSIMACHUS	Did you go to 't so young? Were you a gamester at
	five or at seven?

MARINA	Earlier too, sir, if now I be one.

LYSIMACHUS	Why, the house you dwell in proclaims you to be a
	creature of sale.

MARINA	Do you know this house to be a place of such resort,
	and will come into 't? I hear say you are of
	honourable parts, and are the governor of this place.

LYSIMACHUS	Why, hath your principal made known unto you who I am?

MARINA	Who is my principal?

LYSIMACHUS	Why, your herb-woman; she that sets seeds and roots
	of shame and iniquity. O, you have heard something
	of my power, and so stand aloof for more serious
	wooing. But I protest to thee, pretty one, my
	authority shall not see thee, or else look friendly
	upon thee. Come, bring me to some private place:
	come, come.

MARINA	If you were born to honour, show it now;
	If put upon you, make the judgment good
	That thought you worthy of it.

LYSIMACHUS	How's this? how's this? Some more; be sage.

MARINA	For me,
	That am a maid, though most ungentle fortune
	Have placed me in this sty, where, since I came,
	Diseases have been sold dearer than physic,
	O, that the gods
	Would set me free from this unhallow'd place,
	Though they did change me to the meanest bird
	That flies i' the purer air!

LYSIMACHUS	I did not think
	Thou couldst have spoke so well; ne'er dream'd thou couldst.
	Had I brought hither a corrupted mind,
	Thy speech had alter'd it. Hold, here's gold for thee:
	Persever in that clear way thou goest,
	And the gods strengthen thee!

MARINA	The good gods preserve you!

LYSIMACHUS	For me, be you thoughten
	That I came with no ill intent; for to me
	The very doors and windows savour vilely.
	Fare thee well. Thou art a piece of virtue, and
	I doubt not but thy training hath been noble.
	Hold, here's more gold for thee.
	A curse upon him, die he like a thief,
	That robs thee of thy goodness! If thou dost
	Hear from me, it shall be for thy good.

	[Re-enter BOULT]

BOULT	I beseech your honour, one piece for me.

LYSIMACHUS	Avaunt, thou damned door-keeper!
	Your house, but for this virgin that doth prop it,
	Would sink and overwhelm you. Away!

	[Exit]

BOULT	How's this? We must take another course with you.
	If your peevish chastity, which is not worth a
	breakfast in the cheapest country under the cope,
	shall undo a whole household, let me be gelded like
	a spaniel. Come your ways.

MARINA	 Whither would you have me?

BOULT	I must have your maidenhead taken off, or the common
	hangman shall execute it. Come your ways. We'll
	have no more gentlemen driven away. Come your ways, I say.

	[Re-enter Bawd]

Bawd	How now! what's the matter?

BOULT	Worse and worse, mistress; she has here spoken holy
	words to the Lord Lysimachus.

Bawd	O abominable!

BOULT	She makes our profession as it were to stink afore
	the face of the gods.

Bawd	Marry, hang her up for ever!

BOULT	The nobleman would have dealt with her like a
	nobleman, and she sent him away as cold as a
	snowball; saying his prayers too.

Bawd	Boult, take her away; use her at thy pleasure:
	crack the glass of her virginity, and make the rest malleable.

BOULT	An if she were a thornier piece of ground than she
	is, she shall be ploughed.

MARINA	Hark, hark, you gods!

Bawd	She conjures: away with her! Would she had never
	come within my doors! Marry, hang you! She's born
	to undo us. Will you not go the way of women-kind?
	Marry, come up, my dish of chastity with rosemary and bays!

	[Exit]

BOULT	Come, mistress; come your ways with me.

MARINA	Whither wilt thou have me?

BOULT	To take from you the jewel you hold so dear.

MARINA	Prithee, tell me one thing first.

BOULT	Come now, your one thing.

MARINA	What canst thou wish thine enemy to be?

BOULT	Why, I could wish him to be my master, or rather, my mistress.

MARINA	Neither of these are so bad as thou art,
	Since they do better thee in their command.
	Thou hold'st a place, for which the pained'st fiend
	Of hell would not in reputation change:
	Thou art the damned doorkeeper to every
	Coistrel that comes inquiring for his Tib;
	To the choleric fisting of every rogue
	Thy ear is liable; thy food is such
	As hath been belch'd on by infected lungs.

BOULT	What would you have me do? go to the wars, would
	you? where a man may serve seven years for the loss
	of a leg, and have not money enough in the end to
	buy him a wooden one?

MARINA	Do any thing but this thou doest. Empty
	OLD receptacles, or common shores, of filth;
	Serve by indenture to the common hangman:
	Any of these ways are yet better than this;
	For what thou professest, a baboon, could he speak,
	Would own a name too dear. O, that the gods
	Would safely deliver me from this place!
	Here, here's gold for thee.
	If that thy master would gain by thee,
	Proclaim that I can sing, weave, sew, and dance,
	With other virtues, which I'll keep from boast:
	And I will undertake all these to teach.
	I doubt not but this populous city will
	Yield many scholars.

BOULT	But can you teach all this you speak of?

MARINA	Prove that I cannot, take me home again,
	And prostitute me to the basest groom
	That doth frequent your house.

BOULT	Well, I will see what I can do for thee: if I can
	place thee, I will.

MARINA	But amongst honest women.

BOULT	'Faith, my acquaintance lies little amongst them.
	But since my master and mistress have bought you,
	there's no going but by their consent: therefore I
	will make them acquainted with your purpose, and I
	doubt not but I shall find them tractable enough.
	Come, I'll do for thee what I can; come your ways.

	[Exeunt]




	PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE


ACT V


	[Enter GOWER]

GOWER	Marina thus the brothel 'scapes, and chances
	Into an honest house, our story says.
	She sings like one immortal, and she dances
	As goddess-like to her admired lays;
	Deep clerks she dumbs; and with her needle composes
	Nature's own shape, of bud, bird, branch, or berry,
	That even her art sisters the natural roses;
	Her inkle, silk, twin with the rubied cherry:
	That pupils lacks she none of noble race,
	Who pour their bounty on her; and her gain
	She gives the cursed bawd. Here we her place;
	And to her father turn our thoughts again,
	Where we left him, on the sea. We there him lost;
	Whence, driven before the winds, he is arrived
	Here where his daughter dwells; and on this coast
	Suppose him now at anchor. The city strived
	God Neptune's annual feast to keep: from whence
	Lysimachus our Tyrian ship espies,
	His banners sable, trimm'd with rich expense;
	And to him in his barge with fervor hies.
	In your supposing once more put your sight
	Of heavy Pericles; think this his bark:
	Where what is done in action, more, if might,
	Shall be discover'd; please you, sit and hark.

	[Exit]




	PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE


ACT V



SCENE I	On board PERICLES' ship, off Mytilene. A close
	pavilion on deck, with a curtain before it; PERICLES
	within it, reclined on a couch. A barge lying
	beside the Tyrian vessel.


	[Enter two Sailors, one belonging to the Tyrian
	vessel, the other to the barge; to them HELICANUS]

Tyrian Sailor	[To the Sailor of Mytilene]  Where is lord Helicanus?
	he can resolve you.
	O, here he is.
	Sir, there's a barge put off from Mytilene,
	And in it is Lysimachus the governor,
	Who craves to come aboard. What is your will?

HELICANUS	That he have his. Call up some gentlemen.

Tyrian Sailor	Ho, gentlemen! my lord calls.

	[Enter two or three Gentlemen]

First Gentleman	Doth your lordship call?

HELICANUS	Gentlemen, there's some of worth would come aboard;
	I pray ye, greet them fairly.

	[The Gentlemen and the two Sailors descend, and go
	on board the barge]

	[Enter, from thence, LYSIMACHUS and Lords; with the
	Gentlemen and the two Sailors]

Tyrian Sailor	Sir,
	This is the man that can, in aught you would,
	Resolve you.

LYSIMACHUS	Hail, reverend sir! the gods preserve you!

HELICANUS	And you, sir, to outlive the age I am,
	And die as I would do.

LYSIMACHUS	You wish me well.
	Being on shore, honouring of Neptune's triumphs,
	Seeing this goodly vessel ride before us,
	I made to it, to know of whence you are.

HELICANUS	First, what is your place?

LYSIMACHUS	I am the governor of this place you lie before.

HELICANUS	Sir,
	Our vessel is of Tyre, in it the king;
	A man who for this three months hath not spoken
	To any one, nor taken sustenance
	But to prorogue his grief.

LYSIMACHUS	Upon what ground is his distemperature?

HELICANUS	'Twould be too tedious to repeat;
	But the main grief springs from the loss
	Of a beloved daughter and a wife.

LYSIMACHUS	May we not see him?

HELICANUS	You may;
	But bootless is your sight: he will not speak To any.

LYSIMACHUS	Yet let me obtain my wish.

HELICANUS	Behold him.

	[PERICLES discovered]

	This was a goodly person,
	Till the disaster that, one mortal night,
	Drove him to this.

LYSIMACHUS	Sir king, all hail! the gods preserve you!
	Hail, royal sir!

HELICANUS	It is in vain; he will not speak to you.

First Lord	Sir,
	We have a maid in Mytilene, I durst wager,
	Would win some words of him.

LYSIMACHUS	'Tis well bethought.
	She questionless with her sweet harmony
	And other chosen attractions, would allure,
	And make a battery through his deafen'd parts,
	Which now are midway stopp'd:
	She is all happy as the fairest of all,
	And, with her fellow maids is now upon
	The leafy shelter that abuts against
	The island's side.

	[Whispers a Lord, who goes off in the barge of
	LYSIMACHUS]

HELICANUS	Sure, all's effectless; yet nothing we'll omit
	That bears recovery's name. But, since your kindness
	We have stretch'd thus far, let us beseech you
	That for our gold we may provision have,
	Wherein we are not destitute for want,
	But weary for the staleness.

LYSIMACHUS	O, sir, a courtesy
	Which if we should deny, the most just gods
	For every graff would send a caterpillar,
	And so afflict our province. Yet once more
	Let me entreat to know at large the cause
	Of your king's sorrow.

HELICANUS	Sit, sir, I will recount it to you:
	But, see, I am prevented.

	[Re-enter, from the barge, Lord, with MARINA, and a
	young Lady]

LYSIMACHUS	O, here is
	The lady that I sent for. Welcome, fair one!
	Is't not a goodly presence?

HELICANUS	She's a gallant lady.

LYSIMACHUS	She's such a one, that, were I well assured
	Came of a gentle kind and noble stock,
	I'ld wish no better choice, and think me rarely wed.
	Fair one, all goodness that consists in bounty
	Expect even here, where is a kingly patient:
	If that thy prosperous and artificial feat
	Can draw him but to answer thee in aught,
	Thy sacred physic shall receive such pay
	As thy desires can wish.

MARINA	Sir, I will use
	My utmost skill in his recovery, Provided
	That none but I and my companion maid
	Be suffer'd to come near him.

LYSIMACHUS	Come, let us leave her;
	And the gods make her prosperous!

	[MARINA sings]

LYSIMACHUS	Mark'd he your music?

MARINA	No, nor look'd on us.

LYSIMACHUS	See, she will speak to him.

MARINA	Hail, sir! my lord, lend ear.

PERICLES	Hum, ha!

MARINA	I am a maid,
	My lord, that ne'er before invited eyes,
	But have been gazed on like a comet: she speaks,
	My lord, that, may be, hath endured a grief
	Might equal yours, if both were justly weigh'd.
	Though wayward fortune did malign my state,
	My derivation was from ancestors
	Who stood equivalent with mighty kings:
	But time hath rooted out my parentage,
	And to the world and awkward casualties
	Bound me in servitude.

	[Aside]

		 I will desist;
	But there is something glows upon my cheek,
	And whispers in mine ear, 'Go not till he speak.'

PERICLES	My fortunes--parentage--good parentage--
	To equal mine!--was it not thus? what say you?

MARINA	I said, my lord, if you did know my parentage,
	You would not do me violence.

PERICLES	I do think so. Pray you, turn your eyes upon me.
	You are like something that--What country-woman?
	Here of these shores?

MARINA	No, nor of any shores:
	Yet I was mortally brought forth, and am
	No other than I appear.

PERICLES	I am great with woe, and shall deliver weeping.
	My dearest wife was like this maid, and such a one
	My daughter might have been: my queen's square brows;
	Her stature to an inch; as wand-like straight;
	As silver-voiced; her eyes as jewel-like
	And cased as richly; in pace another Juno;
	Who starves the ears she feeds, and makes them hungry,
	The more she gives them speech. Where do you live?

MARINA	Where I am but a stranger: from the deck
	You may discern the place.

PERICLES	Where were you bred?
	And how achieved you these endowments, which
	You make more rich to owe?

MARINA	If I should tell my history, it would seem
	Like lies disdain'd in the reporting.

PERICLES	Prithee, speak:
	Falseness cannot come from thee; for thou look'st
	Modest as Justice, and thou seem'st a palace
	For the crown'd Truth to dwell in: I will
	believe thee,
	And make my senses credit thy relation
	To points that seem impossible; for thou look'st
	Like one I loved indeed. What were thy friends?
	Didst thou not say, when I did push thee back--
	Which was when I perceived thee--that thou camest
	From good descending?

MARINA	So indeed I did.

PERICLES	Report thy parentage. I think thou said'st
	Thou hadst been toss'd from wrong to injury,
	And that thou thought'st thy griefs might equal mine,
	If both were open'd.

MARINA	Some such thing
	I said, and said no more but what my thoughts
	Did warrant me was likely.

PERICLES	Tell thy story;
	If thine consider'd prove the thousandth part
	Of my endurance, thou art a man, and I
	Have suffer'd like a girl: yet thou dost look
	Like Patience gazing on kings' graves, and smiling
	Extremity out of act. What were thy friends?
	How lost thou them? Thy name, my most kind virgin?
	Recount, I do beseech thee: come, sit by me.

MARINA	My name is Marina.

PERICLES	                  O, I am mock'd,
	And thou by some incensed god sent hither
	To make the world to laugh at me.

MARINA	Patience, good sir,
	Or here I'll cease.

PERICLES	Nay, I'll be patient.
	Thou little know'st how thou dost startle me,
	To call thyself Marina.

MARINA	The name
	Was given me by one that had some power,
	My father, and a king.

PERICLES	How! a king's daughter?
	And call'd Marina?

MARINA	                  You said you would believe me;
	But, not to be a troubler of your peace,
	I will end here.

PERICLES	                  But are you flesh and blood?
	Have you a working pulse? and are no fairy?
	Motion! Well; speak on. Where were you born?
	And wherefore call'd Marina?

MARINA	Call'd Marina
	For I was born at sea.

PERICLES	At sea! what mother?

MARINA	My mother was the daughter of a king;
	Who died the minute I was born,
	As my good nurse Lychorida hath oft
	Deliver'd weeping.

PERICLES	                  O, stop there a little!

	[Aside]

	This is the rarest dream that e'er dull sleep
	Did mock sad fools withal: this cannot be:
	My daughter's buried. Well: where were you bred?
	I'll hear you more, to the bottom of your story,
	And never interrupt you.

MARINA	You scorn: believe me, 'twere best I did give o'er.

PERICLES	I will believe you by the syllable
	Of what you shall deliver. Yet, give me leave:
	How came you in these parts? where were you bred?

MARINA	The king my father did in Tarsus leave me;
	Till cruel Cleon, with his wicked wife,
	Did seek to murder me: and having woo'd
	A villain to attempt it, who having drawn to do't,
	A crew of pirates came and rescued me;
	Brought me to Mytilene. But, good sir,
	Whither will you have me? Why do you weep?
	It may be,
	You think me an impostor: no, good faith;
	I am the daughter to King Pericles,
	If good King Pericles be.

PERICLES	Ho, Helicanus!

HELICANUS	Calls my lord?

PERICLES	Thou art a grave and noble counsellor,
	Most wise in general: tell me, if thou canst,
	What this maid is, or what is like to be,
	That thus hath made me weep?

HELICANUS	I know not; but
	Here is the regent, sir, of Mytilene
	Speaks nobly of her.

LYSIMACHUS	She would never tell
	Her parentage; being demanded that,
	She would sit still and weep.

PERICLES	O Helicanus, strike me, honour'd sir;
	Give me a gash, put me to present pain;
	Lest this great sea of joys rushing upon me
	O'erbear the shores of my mortality,
	And drown me with their sweetness. O, come hither,
	Thou that beget'st him that did thee beget;
	Thou that wast born at sea, buried at Tarsus,
	And found at sea again! O Helicanus,
	Down on thy knees, thank the holy gods as loud
	As thunder threatens us: this is Marina.
	What was thy mother's name? tell me but that,
	For truth can never be confirm'd enough,
	Though doubts did ever sleep.

MARINA	First, sir, I pray,
	What is your title?

PERICLES	I am Pericles of Tyre: but tell me now
	My drown'd queen's name, as in the rest you said
	Thou hast been godlike perfect,
	The heir of kingdoms and another like
	To Pericles thy father.

MARINA	Is it no more to be your daughter than
	To say my mother's name was Thaisa?
	Thaisa was my mother, who did end
	The minute I began.

PERICLES	Now, blessing on thee! rise; thou art my child.
	Give me fresh garments. Mine own, Helicanus;
	She is not dead at Tarsus, as she should have been,
	By savage Cleon: she shall tell thee all;
	When thou shalt kneel, and justify in knowledge
	She is thy very princess. Who is this?

HELICANUS	Sir, 'tis the governor of Mytilene,
	Who, hearing of your melancholy state,
	Did come to see you.

PERICLES	I embrace you.
	Give me my robes. I am wild in my beholding.
	O heavens bless my girl! But, hark, what music?
	Tell Helicanus, my Marina, tell him
	O'er, point by point, for yet he seems to doubt,
	How sure you are my daughter. But, what music?

HELICANUS	My lord, I hear none.

PERICLES	None!
	The music of the spheres! List, my Marina.

LYSIMACHUS	It is not good to cross him; give him way.

PERICLES	Rarest sounds! Do ye not hear?

LYSIMACHUS	My lord, I hear.

	[Music]

PERICLES	Most heavenly music!
	It nips me unto listening, and thick slumber
	Hangs upon mine eyes: let me rest.

	[Sleeps]

LYSIMACHUS	A pillow for his head:
	So, leave him all. Well, my companion friends,
	If this but answer to my just belief,
	I'll well remember you.

	[Exeunt all but PERICLES]

	[DIANA appears to PERICLES as in a vision]

DIANA	My temple stands in Ephesus: hie thee thither,
	And do upon mine altar sacrifice.
	There, when my maiden priests are met together,
	Before the people all,
	Reveal how thou at sea didst lose thy wife:
	To mourn thy crosses, with thy daughter's, call
	And give them repetition to the life.
	Or perform my bidding, or thou livest in woe;
	Do it, and happy; by my silver bow!
	Awake, and tell thy dream.

	[Disappears]

PERICLES	Celestial Dian, goddess argentine,
	I will obey thee. Helicanus!

	[Re-enter HELICANUS, LYSIMACHUS, and MARINA]

HELICANUS	Sir?

PERICLES	My purpose was for Tarsus, there to strike
	The inhospitable Cleon; but I am
	For other service first: toward Ephesus
	Turn our blown sails; eftsoons I'll tell thee why.

	[To LYSIMACHUS]

	Shall we refresh us, sir, upon your shore,
	And give you gold for such provision
	As our intents will need?

LYSIMACHUS	Sir,
	With all my heart; and, when you come ashore,
	I have another suit.

PERICLES	You shall prevail,
	Were it to woo my daughter; for it seems
	You have been noble towards her.

LYSIMACHUS	Sir, lend me your arm.

PERICLES	Come, my Marina.

	[Exeunt]




	PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE


ACT V



SCENE II:


	[Enter GOWER, before the temple of DIANA at Ephesus]

GOWER	Now our sands are almost run;
	More a little, and then dumb.
	This, my last boon, give me,
	For such kindness must relieve me,
	That you aptly will suppose
	What pageantry, what feats, what shows,
	What minstrelsy, and pretty din,
	The regent made in Mytilene
	To greet the king. So he thrived,
	That he is promised to be wived
	To fair Marina; but in no wise
	Till he had done his sacrifice,
	As Dian bade: whereto being bound,
	The interim, pray you, all confound.
	In feather'd briefness sails are fill'd,
	And wishes fall out as they're will'd.
	At Ephesus, the temple see,
	Our king and all his company.
	That he can hither come so soon,
	Is by your fancy's thankful doom.

	[Exit]




	PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE


ACT V


SCENE III	The temple of Diana at Ephesus; THAISA standing
	near the altar, as high priestess; a number of
	Virgins on each side; CERIMON and other Inhabitants
	of Ephesus attending.


	[Enter PERICLES, with his train; LYSIMACHUS,
	HELICANUS, MARINA, and a Lady]

PERICLES	Hail, Dian! to perform thy just command,
	I here confess myself the king of Tyre;
	Who, frighted from my country, did wed
	At Pentapolis the fair Thaisa.
	At sea in childbed died she, but brought forth
	A maid-child call'd Marina; who, O goddess,
	Wears yet thy silver livery. She at Tarsus
	Was nursed with Cleon; who at fourteen years
	He sought to murder: but her better stars
	Brought her to Mytilene; 'gainst whose shore
	Riding, her fortunes brought the maid aboard us,
	Where, by her own most clear remembrance, she
	Made known herself my daughter.

THAISA	Voice and favour!
	You are, you are--O royal Pericles!

	[Faints]

PERICLES	What means the nun? she dies! help, gentlemen!

CERIMON	Noble sir,
	If you have told Diana's altar true,
	This is your wife.

PERICLES	                  Reverend appearer, no;
	I threw her overboard with these very arms.

CERIMON	Upon this coast, I warrant you.

PERICLES	'Tis most certain.

CERIMON	Look to the lady; O, she's but o'erjoy'd.
	Early in blustering morn this lady was
	Thrown upon this shore. I oped the coffin,
	Found there rich jewels; recover'd her, and placed her
	Here in Diana's temple.

PERICLES	May we see them?

CERIMON	Great sir, they shall be brought you to my house,
	Whither I invite you. Look, Thaisa is recovered.

THAISA	O, let me look!
	If he be none of mine, my sanctity
	Will to my sense bend no licentious ear,
	But curb it, spite of seeing. O, my lord,
	Are you not Pericles? Like him you spake,
	Like him you are: did you not name a tempest,
	A birth, and death?

PERICLES	The voice of dead Thaisa!

THAISA	That Thaisa am I, supposed dead
	And drown'd.

PERICLES	Immortal Dian!

THAISA	                  Now I know you better.
	When we with tears parted Pentapolis,
	The king my father gave you such a ring.

	[Shows a ring]

PERICLES	This, this: no more, you gods! your present kindness
	Makes my past miseries sports: you shall do well,
	That on the touching of her lips I may
	Melt and no more be seen. O, come, be buried
	A second time within these arms.

MARINA	My heart
	Leaps to be gone into my mother's bosom.

	[Kneels to THAISA]

PERICLES	Look, who kneels here! Flesh of thy flesh, Thaisa;
	Thy burden at the sea, and call'd Marina
	For she was yielded there.

THAISA	Blest, and mine own!

HELICANUS	Hail, madam, and my queen!

THAISA	I know you not.

PERICLES	You have heard me say, when I did fly from Tyre,
	I left behind an ancient substitute:
	Can you remember what I call'd the man?
	I have named him oft.

THAISA	'Twas Helicanus then.

PERICLES	Still confirmation:
	Embrace him, dear Thaisa; this is he.
	Now do I long to hear how you were found;
	How possibly preserved; and who to thank,
	Besides the gods, for this great miracle.

THAISA	Lord Cerimon, my lord; this man,
	Through whom the gods have shown their power; that can
	From first to last resolve you.

PERICLES	Reverend sir,
	The gods can have no mortal officer
	More like a god than you. Will you deliver
	How this dead queen re-lives?

CERIMON	I will, my lord.
	Beseech you, first go with me to my house,
	Where shall be shown you all was found with her;
	How she came placed here in the temple;
	No needful thing omitted.

PERICLES	Pure Dian, bless thee for thy vision! I
	Will offer night-oblations to thee. Thaisa,
	This prince, the fair-betrothed of your daughter,
	Shall marry her at Pentapolis. And now,
	This ornament
	Makes me look dismal will I clip to form;
	And what this fourteen years no razor touch'd,
	To grace thy marriage-day, I'll beautify.

THAISA	Lord Cerimon hath letters of good credit, sir,
	My father's dead.

PERICLES	Heavens make a star of him! Yet there, my queen,
	We'll celebrate their nuptials, and ourselves
	Will in that kingdom spend our following days:
	Our son and daughter shall in Tyrus reign.
	Lord Cerimon, we do our longing stay
	To hear the rest untold: sir, lead's the way.

	[Exeunt]

	[Enter GOWER]

GOWER	In Antiochus and his daughter you have heard
	Of monstrous lust the due and just reward:
	In Pericles, his queen and daughter, seen,
	Although assail'd with fortune fierce and keen,
	Virtue preserved from fell destruction's blast,
	Led on by heaven, and crown'd with joy at last:
	In Helicanus may you well descry
	A figure of truth, of faith, of loyalty:
	In reverend Cerimon there well appears
	The worth that learned charity aye wears:
	For wicked Cleon and his wife, when fame
	Had spread their cursed deed, and honour'd name
	Of Pericles, to rage the city turn,
	That him and his they in his palace burn;
	The gods for murder seemed so content
	To punish them; although not done, but meant.
	So, on your patience evermore attending,
	New joy wait on you! Here our play has ending.

	[Exit]




	THE WINTER'S TALE


	DRAMATIS PERSONAE


LEONTES	king of Sicilia.

MAMILLIUS	young prince of Sicilia.


CAMILLO	|
	|
ANTIGONUS	|
	|  Four Lords of Sicilia.
CLEOMENES	|
	|
DION	|


POLIXENES	King of Bohemia.

FLORIZEL	Prince of Bohemia.

ARCHIDAMUS	a Lord of Bohemia.

Old Shepherd	reputed father of Perdita. (Shepherd:)

Clown	his son.

AUTOLYCUS	a rogue.

	A Mariner. (Mariner:)

	A Gaoler.  (Gaoler:)

HERMIONE	queen to Leontes.

PERDITA	daughter to Leontes and Hermione.

PAULINA	wife to Antigonus.

EMILIA	a lady attending on Hermione,


MOPSA	|
	|  Shepherdesses.
DORCAS	|


	Other Lords and Gentlemen, Ladies, Officers,
	and Servants, Shepherds, and Shepherdesses.
	(First Lord:)
	(Gentleman:)
	(First Gentleman:)
	(Second Gentleman:)
	(Third Gentleman:)
	(First Lady:)
	(Second Lady:)
	(Officer:)
	(Servant:)
	(First Servant:)
	(Second Servant:)

Time	as Chorus.


SCENE	Sicilia, and Bohemia.




	THE WINTER'S TALE


ACT I



SCENE I	Antechamber in LEONTES' palace.



	[Enter CAMILLO and ARCHIDAMUS]

ARCHIDAMUS	If you shall chance, Camillo, to visit Bohemia, on
	the like occasion whereon my services are now on
	foot, you shall see, as I have said, great
	difference betwixt our Bohemia and your Sicilia.

CAMILLO	I think, this coming summer, the King of Sicilia
	means to pay Bohemia the visitation which he justly owes him.

ARCHIDAMUS	Wherein our entertainment shall shame us we will be
	justified in our loves; for indeed--

CAMILLO	Beseech you,--

ARCHIDAMUS	Verily, I speak it in the freedom of my knowledge:
	we cannot with such magnificence--in so rare--I know
	not what to say. We will give you sleepy drinks,
	that your senses, unintelligent of our insufficience,
	may, though they cannot praise us, as little accuse
	us.

CAMILLO	You pay a great deal too dear for what's given freely.

ARCHIDAMUS	Believe me, I speak as my understanding instructs me
	and as mine honesty puts it to utterance.

CAMILLO	Sicilia cannot show himself over-kind to Bohemia.
	They were trained together in their childhoods; and
	there rooted betwixt them then such an affection,
	which cannot choose but branch now. Since their
	more mature dignities and royal necessities made
	separation of their society, their encounters,
	though not personal, have been royally attorneyed
	with interchange of gifts, letters, loving
	embassies; that they have seemed to be together,
	though absent, shook hands, as over a vast, and
	embraced, as it were, from the ends of opposed
	winds. The heavens continue their loves!

ARCHIDAMUS	I think there is not in the world either malice or
	matter to alter it. You have an unspeakable
	comfort of your young prince Mamillius: it is a
	gentleman of the greatest promise that ever came
	into my note.

CAMILLO	I very well agree with you in the hopes of him: it
	is a gallant child; one that indeed physics the
	subject, makes old hearts fresh: they that went on
	crutches ere he was born desire yet their life to
	see him a man.

ARCHIDAMUS	Would they else be content to die?

CAMILLO	Yes; if there were no other excuse why they should
	desire to live.

ARCHIDAMUS	If the king had no son, they would desire to live
	on crutches till he had one.

	[Exeunt]




	THE WINTER'S TALE


ACT I



SCENE II	A room of state in the same.



	[Enter LEONTES, HERMIONE, MAMILLIUS,
	POLIXENES, CAMILLO, and Attendants]

POLIXENES	Nine changes of the watery star hath been
	The shepherd's note since we have left our throne
	Without a burthen: time as long again
	Would be find up, my brother, with our thanks;
	And yet we should, for perpetuity,
	Go hence in debt: and therefore, like a cipher,
	Yet standing in rich place, I multiply
	With one 'We thank you' many thousands moe
	That go before it.

LEONTES	                  Stay your thanks a while;
	And pay them when you part.

POLIXENES	Sir, that's to-morrow.
	I am question'd by my fears, of what may chance
	Or breed upon our absence; that may blow
	No sneaping winds at home, to make us say
	'This is put forth too truly:' besides, I have stay'd
	To tire your royalty.

LEONTES	We are tougher, brother,
	Than you can put us to't.

POLIXENES	No longer stay.

LEONTES	One seven-night longer.

POLIXENES	Very sooth, to-morrow.

LEONTES	We'll part the time between's then; and in that
	I'll no gainsaying.

POLIXENES	Press me not, beseech you, so.
	There is no tongue that moves, none, none i' the world,
	So soon as yours could win me: so it should now,
	Were there necessity in your request, although
	'Twere needful I denied it. My affairs
	Do even drag me homeward: which to hinder
	Were in your love a whip to me; my stay
	To you a charge and trouble: to save both,
	Farewell, our brother.

LEONTES	Tongue-tied, our queen?
	speak you.

HERMIONE	I had thought, sir, to have held my peace until
	You have drawn oaths from him not to stay. You, sir,
	Charge him too coldly. Tell him, you are sure
	All in Bohemia's well; this satisfaction
	The by-gone day proclaim'd: say this to him,
	He's beat from his best ward.

LEONTES	Well said, Hermione.

HERMIONE	To tell, he longs to see his son, were strong:
	But let him say so then, and let him go;
	But let him swear so, and he shall not stay,
	We'll thwack him hence with distaffs.
	Yet of your royal presence I'll adventure
	The borrow of a week. When at Bohemia
	You take my lord, I'll give him my commission
	To let him there a month behind the gest
	Prefix'd for's parting: yet, good deed, Leontes,
	I love thee not a jar o' the clock behind
	What lady-she her lord. You'll stay?

POLIXENES	No, madam.

HERMIONE	Nay, but you will?

POLIXENES	                  I may not, verily.

HERMIONE	Verily!
	You put me off with limber vows; but I,
	Though you would seek to unsphere the
	stars with oaths,
	Should yet say 'Sir, no going.' Verily,
	You shall not go: a lady's 'Verily' 's
	As potent as a lord's. Will you go yet?
	Force me to keep you as a prisoner,
	Not like a guest; so you shall pay your fees
	When you depart, and save your thanks. How say you?
	My prisoner? or my guest? by your dread 'Verily,'
	One of them you shall be.

POLIXENES	Your guest, then, madam:
	To be your prisoner should import offending;
	Which is for me less easy to commit
	Than you to punish.

HERMIONE	Not your gaoler, then,
	But your kind hostess. Come, I'll question you
	Of my lord's tricks and yours when you were boys:
	You were pretty lordings then?

POLIXENES	We were, fair queen,
	Two lads that thought there was no more behind
	But such a day to-morrow as to-day,
	And to be boy eternal.

HERMIONE	Was not my lord
	The verier wag o' the two?

POLIXENES	We were as twinn'd lambs that did frisk i' the sun,
	And bleat the one at the other: what we changed
	Was innocence for innocence; we knew not
	The doctrine of ill-doing, nor dream'd
	That any did. Had we pursued that life,
	And our weak spirits ne'er been higher rear'd
	With stronger blood, we should have answer'd heaven
	Boldly 'not guilty;' the imposition clear'd
	Hereditary ours.

HERMIONE	                  By this we gather
	You have tripp'd since.

POLIXENES	O my most sacred lady!
	Temptations have since then been born to's; for
	In those unfledged days was my wife a girl;
	Your precious self had then not cross'd the eyes
	Of my young play-fellow.

HERMIONE	Grace to boot!
	Of this make no conclusion, lest you say
	Your queen and I are devils: yet go on;
	The offences we have made you do we'll answer,
	If you first sinn'd with us and that with us
	You did continue fault and that you slipp'd not
	With any but with us.

LEONTES	Is he won yet?

HERMIONE	He'll stay my lord.

LEONTES	At my request he would not.
	Hermione, my dearest, thou never spokest
	To better purpose.

HERMIONE	                                 Never?

LEONTES	Never, but once.

HERMIONE	What! have I twice said well? when was't before?
	I prithee tell me; cram's with praise, and make's
	As fat as tame things: one good deed dying tongueless
	Slaughters a thousand waiting upon that.
	Our praises are our wages: you may ride's
	With one soft kiss a thousand furlongs ere
	With spur we beat an acre. But to the goal:
	My last good deed was to entreat his stay:
	What was my first? it has an elder sister,
	Or I mistake you: O, would her name were Grace!
	But once before I spoke to the purpose: when?
	Nay, let me have't; I long.

LEONTES	Why, that was when
	Three crabbed months had sour'd themselves to death,
	Ere I could make thee open thy white hand
	And clap thyself my love: then didst thou utter
	'I am yours for ever.'

HERMIONE	'Tis grace indeed.
	Why, lo you now, I have spoke to the purpose twice:
	The one for ever earn'd a royal husband;
	The other for some while a friend.

LEONTES	[Aside]	Too hot, too hot!
	To mingle friendship far is mingling bloods.
	I have tremor cordis on me: my heart dances;
	But not for joy; not joy. This entertainment
	May a free face put on, derive a liberty
	From heartiness, from bounty, fertile bosom,
	And well become the agent; 't may, I grant;
	But to be paddling palms and pinching fingers,
	As now they are, and making practised smiles,
	As in a looking-glass, and then to sigh, as 'twere
	The mort o' the deer; O, that is entertainment
	My bosom likes not, nor my brows! Mamillius,
	Art thou my boy?

MAMILLIUS	                           Ay, my good lord.

LEONTES	I' fecks!
	Why, that's my bawcock. What, hast
	smutch'd thy nose?
	They say it is a copy out of mine. Come, captain,
	We must be neat; not neat, but cleanly, captain:
	And yet the steer, the heifer and the calf
	Are all call'd neat.--Still virginalling
	Upon his palm!--How now, you wanton calf!
	Art thou my calf?

MAMILLIUS	                  Yes, if you will, my lord.

LEONTES	Thou want'st a rough pash and the shoots that I have,
	To be full like me: yet they say we are
	Almost as like as eggs; women say so,
	That will say anything but were they false
	As o'er-dyed blacks, as wind, as waters, false
	As dice are to be wish'd by one that fixes
	No bourn 'twixt his and mine, yet were it true
	To say this boy were like me. Come, sir page,
	Look on me with your welkin eye: sweet villain!
	Most dear'st! my collop! Can thy dam?--may't be?--
	Affection! thy intention stabs the centre:
	Thou dost make possible things not so held,
	Communicatest with dreams;--how can this be?--
	With what's unreal thou coactive art,
	And fellow'st nothing: then 'tis very credent
	Thou mayst co-join with something; and thou dost,
	And that beyond commission, and I find it,
	And that to the infection of my brains
	And hardening of my brows.

POLIXENES	What means Sicilia?

HERMIONE	He something seems unsettled.

POLIXENES	How, my lord!
	What cheer? how is't with you, best brother?

HERMIONE	You look as if you held a brow of much distraction
	Are you moved, my lord?

LEONTES	No, in good earnest.
	How sometimes nature will betray its folly,
	Its tenderness, and make itself a pastime
	To harder bosoms! Looking on the lines
	Of my boy's face, methoughts I did recoil
	Twenty-three years, and saw myself unbreech'd,
	In my green velvet coat, my dagger muzzled,
	Lest it should bite its master, and so prove,
	As ornaments oft do, too dangerous:
	How like, methought, I then was to this kernel,
	This squash, this gentleman. Mine honest friend,
	Will you take eggs for money?

MAMILLIUS	No, my lord, I'll fight.

LEONTES	You will! why, happy man be's dole! My brother,
	Are you so fond of your young prince as we
	Do seem to be of ours?

POLIXENES	If at home, sir,
	He's all my exercise, my mirth, my matter,
	Now my sworn friend and then mine enemy,
	My parasite, my soldier, statesman, all:
	He makes a July's day short as December,
	And with his varying childness cures in me
	Thoughts that would thick my blood.

LEONTES	So stands this squire
	Officed with me: we two will walk, my lord,
	And leave you to your graver steps. Hermione,
	How thou lovest us, show in our brother's welcome;
	Let what is dear in Sicily be cheap:
	Next to thyself and my young rover, he's
	Apparent to my heart.

HERMIONE	If you would seek us,
	We are yours i' the garden: shall's attend you there?

LEONTES	To your own bents dispose you: you'll be found,
	Be you beneath the sky.

	[Aside]

		  I am angling now,
	Though you perceive me not how I give line.
	Go to, go to!
	How she holds up the neb, the bill to him!
	And arms her with the boldness of a wife
	To her allowing husband!

	[Exeunt POLIXENES, HERMIONE, and Attendants]

		   Gone already!
	Inch-thick, knee-deep, o'er head and
	ears a fork'd one!
	Go, play, boy, play: thy mother plays, and I
	Play too, but so disgraced a part, whose issue
	Will hiss me to my grave: contempt and clamour
	Will be my knell. Go, play, boy, play.
	There have been,
	Or I am much deceived, cuckolds ere now;
	And many a man there is, even at this present,
	Now while I speak this, holds his wife by the arm,
	That little thinks she has been sluiced in's absence
	And his pond fish'd by his next neighbour, by
	Sir Smile, his neighbour: nay, there's comfort in't
	Whiles other men have gates and those gates open'd,
	As mine, against their will. Should all despair
	That have revolted wives, the tenth of mankind
	Would hang themselves. Physic for't there is none;
	It is a bawdy planet, that will strike
	Where 'tis predominant; and 'tis powerful, think it,
	From east, west, north and south: be it concluded,
	No barricado for a belly; know't;
	It will let in and out the enemy
	With bag and baggage: many thousand on's
	Have the disease, and feel't not. How now, boy!

MAMILLIUS	I am like you, they say.

LEONTES	Why that's some comfort. What, Camillo there?

CAMILLO	Ay, my good lord.

LEONTES	Go play, Mamillius; thou'rt an honest man.

	[Exit MAMILLIUS]

	Camillo, this great sir will yet stay longer.

CAMILLO	You had much ado to make his anchor hold:
	When you cast out, it still came home.

LEONTES	Didst note it?

CAMILLO	He would not stay at your petitions: made
	His business more material.

LEONTES	Didst perceive it?

	[Aside]

	They're here with me already, whispering, rounding
	'Sicilia is a so-forth:' 'tis far gone,
	When I shall gust it last. How came't, Camillo,
	That he did stay?

CAMILLO	                  At the good queen's entreaty.

LEONTES	At the queen's be't: 'good' should be pertinent
	But, so it is, it is not. Was this taken
	By any understanding pate but thine?
	For thy conceit is soaking, will draw in
	More than the common blocks: not noted, is't,
	But of the finer natures? by some severals
	Of head-piece extraordinary? lower messes
	Perchance are to this business purblind? say.

CAMILLO	Business, my lord! I think most understand
	Bohemia stays here longer.

LEONTES	Ha!

CAMILLO	Stays here longer.

LEONTES	Ay, but why?

CAMILLO	To satisfy your highness and the entreaties
	Of our most gracious mistress.

LEONTES	Satisfy!
	The entreaties of your mistress! satisfy!
	Let that suffice. I have trusted thee, Camillo,
	With all the nearest things to my heart, as well
	My chamber-councils, wherein, priest-like, thou
	Hast cleansed my bosom, I from thee departed
	Thy penitent reform'd: but we have been
	Deceived in thy integrity, deceived
	In that which seems so.

CAMILLO	Be it forbid, my lord!

LEONTES	To bide upon't, thou art not honest, or,
	If thou inclinest that way, thou art a coward,
	Which hoxes honesty behind, restraining
	From course required; or else thou must be counted
	A servant grafted in my serious trust
	And therein negligent; or else a fool
	That seest a game play'd home, the rich stake drawn,
	And takest it all for jest.

CAMILLO	My gracious lord,
	I may be negligent, foolish and fearful;
	In every one of these no man is free,
	But that his negligence, his folly, fear,
	Among the infinite doings of the world,
	Sometime puts forth. In your affairs, my lord,
	If ever I were wilful-negligent,
	It was my folly; if industriously
	I play'd the fool, it was my negligence,
	Not weighing well the end; if ever fearful
	To do a thing, where I the issue doubted,
	Where of the execution did cry out
	Against the non-performance, 'twas a fear
	Which oft infects the wisest: these, my lord,
	Are such allow'd infirmities that honesty
	Is never free of. But, beseech your grace,
	Be plainer with me; let me know my trespass
	By its own visage: if I then deny it,
	'Tis none of mine.

LEONTES	                  Ha' not you seen, Camillo,--
	But that's past doubt, you have, or your eye-glass
	Is thicker than a cuckold's horn,--or heard,--
	For to a vision so apparent rumour
	Cannot be mute,--or thought,--for cogitation
	Resides not in that man that does not think,--
	My wife is slippery? If thou wilt confess,
	Or else be impudently negative,
	To have nor eyes nor ears nor thought, then say
	My wife's a hobby-horse, deserves a name
	As rank as any flax-wench that puts to
	Before her troth-plight: say't and justify't.

CAMILLO	I would not be a stander-by to hear
	My sovereign mistress clouded so, without
	My present vengeance taken: 'shrew my heart,
	You never spoke what did become you less
	Than this; which to reiterate were sin
	As deep as that, though true.

LEONTES	Is whispering nothing?
	Is leaning cheek to cheek? is meeting noses?
	Kissing with inside lip? stopping the career
	Of laughing with a sigh?--a note infallible
	Of breaking honesty--horsing foot on foot?
	Skulking in corners? wishing clocks more swift?
	Hours, minutes? noon, midnight? and all eyes
	Blind with the pin and web but theirs, theirs only,
	That would unseen be wicked? is this nothing?
	Why, then the world and all that's in't is nothing;
	The covering sky is nothing; Bohemia nothing;
	My wife is nothing; nor nothing have these nothings,
	If this be nothing.

CAMILLO	Good my lord, be cured
	Of this diseased opinion, and betimes;
	For 'tis most dangerous.

LEONTES	Say it be, 'tis true.

CAMILLO	No, no, my lord.

LEONTES	                  It is; you lie, you lie:
	I say thou liest, Camillo, and I hate thee,
	Pronounce thee a gross lout, a mindless slave,
	Or else a hovering temporizer, that
	Canst with thine eyes at once see good and evil,
	Inclining to them both: were my wife's liver
	Infected as her life, she would not live
	The running of one glass.

CAMILLO	Who does infect her?

LEONTES	Why, he that wears her like a medal, hanging
	About his neck, Bohemia: who, if I
	Had servants true about me, that bare eyes
	To see alike mine honour as their profits,
	Their own particular thrifts, they would do that
	Which should undo more doing: ay, and thou,
	His cupbearer,--whom I from meaner form
	Have benched and reared to worship, who mayst see
	Plainly as heaven sees earth and earth sees heaven,
	How I am galled,--mightst bespice a cup,
	To give mine enemy a lasting wink;
	Which draught to me were cordial.

CAMILLO	Sir, my lord,
	I could do this, and that with no rash potion,
	But with a lingering dram that should not work
	Maliciously like poison: but I cannot
	Believe this crack to be in my dread mistress,
	So sovereignly being honourable.
	I have loved thee,--

LEONTES	Make that thy question, and go rot!
	Dost think I am so muddy, so unsettled,
	To appoint myself in this vexation, sully
	The purity and whiteness of my sheets,
	Which to preserve is sleep, which being spotted
	Is goads, thorns, nettles, tails of wasps,
	Give scandal to the blood o' the prince my son,
	Who I do think is mine and love as mine,
	Without ripe moving to't? Would I do this?
	Could man so blench?

CAMILLO	I must believe you, sir:
	I do; and will fetch off Bohemia for't;
	Provided that, when he's removed, your highness
	Will take again your queen as yours at first,
	Even for your son's sake; and thereby for sealing
	The injury of tongues in courts and kingdoms
	Known and allied to yours.

LEONTES	Thou dost advise me
	Even so as I mine own course have set down:
	I'll give no blemish to her honour, none.

CAMILLO	My lord,
	Go then; and with a countenance as clear
	As friendship wears at feasts, keep with Bohemia
	And with your queen. I am his cupbearer:
	If from me he have wholesome beverage,
	Account me not your servant.

LEONTES	This is all:
	Do't and thou hast the one half of my heart;
	Do't not, thou split'st thine own.

CAMILLO	I'll do't, my lord.

LEONTES	I will seem friendly, as thou hast advised me.

	[Exit]

CAMILLO	O miserable lady! But, for me,
	What case stand I in? I must be the poisoner
	Of good Polixenes; and my ground to do't
	Is the obedience to a master, one
	Who in rebellion with himself will have
	All that are his so too. To do this deed,
	Promotion follows. If I could find example
	Of thousands that had struck anointed kings
	And flourish'd after, I'ld not do't; but since
	Nor brass nor stone nor parchment bears not one,
	Let villany itself forswear't. I must
	Forsake the court: to do't, or no, is certain
	To me a break-neck. Happy star, reign now!
	Here comes Bohemia.

	[Re-enter POLIXENES]

POLIXENES	This is strange: methinks
	My favour here begins to warp. Not speak?
	Good day, Camillo.

CAMILLO	                  Hail, most royal sir!

POLIXENES	What is the news i' the court?

CAMILLO	None rare, my lord.

POLIXENES	The king hath on him such a countenance
	As he had lost some province and a region
	Loved as he loves himself: even now I met him
	With customary compliment; when he,
	Wafting his eyes to the contrary and falling
	A lip of much contempt, speeds from me and
	So leaves me to consider what is breeding
	That changeth thus his manners.

CAMILLO	I dare not know, my lord.

POLIXENES	How! dare not! do not. Do you know, and dare not?
	Be intelligent to me: 'tis thereabouts;
	For, to yourself, what you do know, you must.
	And cannot say, you dare not. Good Camillo,
	Your changed complexions are to me a mirror
	Which shows me mine changed too; for I must be
	A party in this alteration, finding
	Myself thus alter'd with 't.

CAMILLO	There is a sickness
	Which puts some of us in distemper, but
	I cannot name the disease; and it is caught
	Of you that yet are well.

POLIXENES	How! caught of me!
	Make me not sighted like the basilisk:
	I have look'd on thousands, who have sped the better
	By my regard, but kill'd none so. Camillo,--
	As you are certainly a gentleman, thereto
	Clerk-like experienced, which no less adorns
	Our gentry than our parents' noble names,
	In whose success we are gentle,--I beseech you,
	If you know aught which does behove my knowledge
	Thereof to be inform'd, imprison't not
	In ignorant concealment.

CAMILLO	I may not answer.

POLIXENES	A sickness caught of me, and yet I well!
	I must be answer'd. Dost thou hear, Camillo,
	I conjure thee, by all the parts of man
	Which honour does acknowledge, whereof the least
	Is not this suit of mine, that thou declare
	What incidency thou dost guess of harm
	Is creeping toward me; how far off, how near;
	Which way to be prevented, if to be;
	If not, how best to bear it.

CAMILLO	Sir, I will tell you;
	Since I am charged in honour and by him
	That I think honourable: therefore mark my counsel,
	Which must be even as swiftly follow'd as
	I mean to utter it, or both yourself and me
	Cry lost, and so good night!

POLIXENES	On, good Camillo.

CAMILLO	I am appointed him to murder you.

POLIXENES	By whom, Camillo?

CAMILLO	                        By the king.

POLIXENES	For what?

CAMILLO	He thinks, nay, with all confidence he swears,
	As he had seen't or been an instrument
	To vice you to't, that you have touch'd his queen
	Forbiddenly.

POLIXENES	                  O, then my best blood turn
	To an infected jelly and my name
	Be yoked with his that did betray the Best!
	Turn then my freshest reputation to
	A savour that may strike the dullest nostril
	Where I arrive, and my approach be shunn'd,
	Nay, hated too, worse than the great'st infection
	That e'er was heard or read!

CAMILLO	Swear his thought over
	By each particular star in heaven and
	By all their influences, you may as well
	Forbid the sea for to obey the moon
	As or by oath remove or counsel shake
	The fabric of his folly, whose foundation
	Is piled upon his faith and will continue
	The standing of his body.

POLIXENES	How should this grow?

CAMILLO	I know not: but I am sure 'tis safer to
	Avoid what's grown than question how 'tis born.
	If therefore you dare trust my honesty,
	That lies enclosed in this trunk which you
	Shall bear along impawn'd, away to-night!
	Your followers I will whisper to the business,
	And will by twos and threes at several posterns
	Clear them o' the city. For myself, I'll put
	My fortunes to your service, which are here
	By this discovery lost. Be not uncertain;
	For, by the honour of my parents, I
	Have utter'd truth: which if you seek to prove,
	I dare not stand by; nor shall you be safer
	Than one condemn'd by the king's own mouth, thereon
	His execution sworn.

POLIXENES	I do believe thee:
	I saw his heart in 's face. Give me thy hand:
	Be pilot to me and thy places shall
	Still neighbour mine. My ships are ready and
	My people did expect my hence departure
	Two days ago. This jealousy
	Is for a precious creature: as she's rare,
	Must it be great, and as his person's mighty,
	Must it be violent, and as he does conceive
	He is dishonour'd by a man which ever
	Profess'd to him, why, his revenges must
	In that be made more bitter. Fear o'ershades me:
	Good expedition be my friend, and comfort
	The gracious queen, part of his theme, but nothing
	Of his ill-ta'en suspicion! Come, Camillo;
	I will respect thee as a father if
	Thou bear'st my life off hence: let us avoid.

CAMILLO	It is in mine authority to command
	The keys of all the posterns: please your highness
	To take the urgent hour. Come, sir, away.

	[Exeunt]




	THE WINTER'S TALE


ACT II



SCENE I	A room in LEONTES' palace.


	[Enter HERMIONE, MAMILLIUS, and Ladies]

HERMIONE	Take the boy to you: he so troubles me,
	'Tis past enduring.

First Lady	Come, my gracious lord,
	Shall I be your playfellow?

MAMILLIUS	No, I'll none of you.

First Lady	Why, my sweet lord?

MAMILLIUS	You'll kiss me hard and speak to me as if
	I were a baby still. I love you better.

Second Lady	And why so, my lord?

MAMILLIUS	Not for because
	Your brows are blacker; yet black brows, they say,
	Become some women best, so that there be not
	Too much hair there, but in a semicircle
	Or a half-moon made with a pen.

Second Lady	Who taught you this?

MAMILLIUS	I learnt it out of women's faces. Pray now
	What colour are your eyebrows?

First Lady	Blue, my lord.

MAMILLIUS	Nay, that's a mock: I have seen a lady's nose
	That has been blue, but not her eyebrows.

First Lady	Hark ye;
	The queen your mother rounds apace: we shall
	Present our services to a fine new prince
	One of these days; and then you'ld wanton with us,
	If we would have you.

Second Lady	She is spread of late
	Into a goodly bulk: good time encounter her!

HERMIONE	What wisdom stirs amongst you? Come, sir, now
	I am for you again: pray you, sit by us,
	And tell 's a tale.

MAMILLIUS	Merry or sad shall't be?

HERMIONE	As merry as you will.

MAMILLIUS	A sad tale's best for winter: I have one
	Of sprites and goblins.

HERMIONE	Let's have that, good sir.
	Come on, sit down: come on, and do your best
	To fright me with your sprites; you're powerful at it.

MAMILLIUS	There was a man--

HERMIONE	                  Nay, come, sit down; then on.

MAMILLIUS	Dwelt by a churchyard: I will tell it softly;
	Yond crickets shall not hear it.

HERMIONE	Come on, then,
	And give't me in mine ear.

	[Enter LEONTES, with ANTIGONUS, Lords and others]

LEONTES	Was he met there? his train? Camillo with him?

First Lord	Behind the tuft of pines I met them; never
	Saw I men scour so on their way: I eyed them
	Even to their ships.

LEONTES	How blest am I
	In my just censure, in my true opinion!
	Alack, for lesser knowledge! how accursed
	In being so blest! There may be in the cup
	A spider steep'd, and one may drink, depart,
	And yet partake no venom, for his knowledge
	Is not infected: but if one present
	The abhorr'd ingredient to his eye, make known
	How he hath drunk, he cracks his gorge, his sides,
	With violent hefts. I have drunk,
	and seen the spider.
	Camillo was his help in this, his pander:
	There is a plot against my life, my crown;
	All's true that is mistrusted: that false villain
	Whom I employ'd was pre-employ'd by him:
	He has discover'd my design, and I
	Remain a pinch'd thing; yea, a very trick
	For them to play at will. How came the posterns
	So easily open?

First Lord	                  By his great authority;
	Which often hath no less prevail'd than so
	On your command.

LEONTES	                          I know't too well.
	Give me the boy: I am glad you did not nurse him:
	Though he does bear some signs of me, yet you
	Have too much blood in him.

HERMIONE	What is this? sport?

LEONTES	Bear the boy hence; he shall not come about her;
	Away with him! and let her sport herself
	With that she's big with; for 'tis Polixenes
	Has made thee swell thus.

HERMIONE	But I'ld say he had not,
	And I'll be sworn you would believe my saying,
	Howe'er you lean to the nayward.

LEONTES	You, my lords,
	Look on her, mark her well; be but about
	To say 'she is a goodly lady,' and
	The justice of your bearts will thereto add
	'Tis pity she's not honest, honourable:'
	Praise her but for this her without-door form,
	Which on my faith deserves high speech, and straight
	The shrug, the hum or ha, these petty brands
	That calumny doth use--O, I am out--
	That mercy does, for calumny will sear
	Virtue itself: these shrugs, these hums and ha's,
	When you have said 'she's goodly,' come between
	Ere you can say 'she's honest:' but be 't known,
	From him that has most cause to grieve it should be,
	She's an adulteress.

HERMIONE	Should a villain say so,
	The most replenish'd villain in the world,
	He were as much more villain: you, my lord,
	Do but mistake.

LEONTES	                  You have mistook, my lady,
	Polixenes for Leontes: O thou thing!
	Which I'll not call a creature of thy place,
	Lest barbarism, making me the precedent,
	Should a like language use to all degrees
	And mannerly distinguishment leave out
	Betwixt the prince and beggar: I have said
	She's an adulteress; I have said with whom:
	More, she's a traitor and Camillo is
	A federary with her, and one that knows
	What she should shame to know herself
	But with her most vile principal, that she's
	A bed-swerver, even as bad as those
	That vulgars give bold'st titles, ay, and privy
	To this their late escape.

HERMIONE	No, by my life.
	Privy to none of this. How will this grieve you,
	When you shall come to clearer knowledge, that
	You thus have publish'd me! Gentle my lord,
	You scarce can right me throughly then to say
	You did mistake.

LEONTES	                  No; if I mistake
	In those foundations which I build upon,
	The centre is not big enough to bear
	A school-boy's top. Away with her! to prison!
	He who shall speak for her is afar off guilty
	But that he speaks.

HERMIONE	There's some ill planet reigns:
	I must be patient till the heavens look
	With an aspect more favourable. Good my lords,
	I am not prone to weeping, as our sex
	Commonly are; the want of which vain dew
	Perchance shall dry your pities: but I have
	That honourable grief lodged here which burns
	Worse than tears drown: beseech you all, my lords,
	With thoughts so qualified as your charities
	Shall best instruct you, measure me; and so
	The king's will be perform'd!

LEONTES	Shall I be heard?

HERMIONE	Who is't that goes with me? Beseech your highness,
	My women may be with me; for you see
	My plight requires it. Do not weep, good fools;
	There is no cause: when you shall know your mistress
	Has deserved prison, then abound in tears
	As I come out: this action I now go on
	Is for my better grace. Adieu, my lord:
	I never wish'd to see you sorry; now
	I trust I shall. My women, come; you have leave.

LEONTES	Go, do our bidding; hence!

	[Exit HERMIONE, guarded; with Ladies]

First Lord	Beseech your highness, call the queen again.

ANTIGONUS	Be certain what you do, sir, lest your justice
	Prove violence; in the which three great ones suffer,
	Yourself, your queen, your son.

First Lord	For her, my lord,
	I dare my life lay down and will do't, sir,
	Please you to accept it, that the queen is spotless
	I' the eyes of heaven and to you; I mean,
	In this which you accuse her.

ANTIGONUS	If it prove
	She's otherwise, I'll keep my stables where
	I lodge my wife; I'll go in couples with her;
	Than when I feel and see her no farther trust her;
	For every inch of woman in the world,
	Ay, every dram of woman's flesh is false, If she be.

LEONTES	         Hold your peaces.

First Lord	Good my lord,--

ANTIGONUS	It is for you we speak, not for ourselves:
	You are abused and by some putter-on
	That will be damn'd for't; would I knew the villain,
	I would land-damn him. Be she honour-flaw'd,
	I have three daughters; the eldest is eleven
	The second and the third, nine, and some five;
	If this prove true, they'll pay for't:
	by mine honour,
	I'll geld 'em all; fourteen they shall not see,
	To bring false generations: they are co-heirs;
	And I had rather glib myself than they
	Should not produce fair issue.

LEONTES	Cease; no more.
	You smell this business with a sense as cold
	As is a dead man's nose: but I do see't and feel't
	As you feel doing thus; and see withal
	The instruments that feel.

ANTIGONUS	If it be so,
	We need no grave to bury honesty:
	There's not a grain of it the face to sweeten
	Of the whole dungy earth.

LEONTES	What! lack I credit?

First Lord	I had rather you did lack than I, my lord,
	Upon this ground; and more it would content me
	To have her honour true than your suspicion,
	Be blamed for't how you might.

LEONTES	Why, what need we
	Commune with you of this, but rather follow
	Our forceful instigation? Our prerogative
	Calls not your counsels, but our natural goodness
	Imparts this; which if you, or stupefied
	Or seeming so in skill, cannot or will not
	Relish a truth like us, inform yourselves
	We need no more of your advice: the matter,
	The loss, the gain, the ordering on't, is all
	Properly ours.

ANTIGONUS	                  And I wish, my liege,
	You had only in your silent judgment tried it,
	Without more overture.

LEONTES	How could that be?
	Either thou art most ignorant by age,
	Or thou wert born a fool. Camillo's flight,
	Added to their familiarity,
	Which was as gross as ever touch'd conjecture,
	That lack'd sight only, nought for approbation
	But only seeing, all other circumstances
	Made up to the deed, doth push on this proceeding:
	Yet, for a greater confirmation,
	For in an act of this importance 'twere
	Most piteous to be wild, I have dispatch'd in post
	To sacred Delphos, to Apollo's temple,
	Cleomenes and Dion, whom you know
	Of stuff'd sufficiency: now from the oracle
	They will bring all; whose spiritual counsel had,
	Shall stop or spur me. Have I done well?

First Lord	Well done, my lord.

LEONTES	Though I am satisfied and need no more
	Than what I know, yet shall the oracle
	Give rest to the minds of others, such as he
	Whose ignorant credulity will not
	Come up to the truth. So have we thought it good
	From our free person she should be confined,
	Lest that the treachery of the two fled hence
	Be left her to perform. Come, follow us;
	We are to speak in public; for this business
	Will raise us all.

ANTIGONUS	[Aside]

	To laughter, as I take it,
	If the good truth were known.

	[Exeunt]




	THE WINTER'S TALE


ACT II



SCENE II	A prison.


	[Enter PAULINA, a Gentleman, and Attendants]

PAULINA	The keeper of the prison, call to him;
	let him have knowledge who I am.

	[Exit Gentleman]

		               Good lady,
	No court in Europe is too good for thee;
	What dost thou then in prison?

	[Re-enter Gentleman, with the Gaoler]

		         Now, good sir,
	You know me, do you not?

Gaoler	For a worthy lady
	And one whom much I honour.

PAULINA	Pray you then,
	Conduct me to the queen.

Gaoler	I may not, madam:
	To the contrary I have express commandment.

PAULINA	Here's ado,
	To lock up honesty and honour from
	The access of gentle visitors!
	Is't lawful, pray you,
	To see her women? any of them? Emilia?

Gaoler	So please you, madam,
	To put apart these your attendants, I
	Shall bring Emilia forth.

PAULINA	I pray now, call her.
	Withdraw yourselves.

	[Exeunt Gentleman and Attendants]

Gaoler	And, madam,
	I must be present at your conference.

PAULINA	Well, be't so, prithee.

	[Exit Gaoler]

	Here's such ado to make no stain a stain
	As passes colouring.

	[Re-enter Gaoler, with EMILIA]

	Dear gentlewoman,
	How fares our gracious lady?

EMILIA	As well as one so great and so forlorn
	May hold together: on her frights and griefs,
	Which never tender lady hath born greater,
	She is something before her time deliver'd.

PAULINA	A boy?

EMILIA	     A daughter, and a goodly babe,
	Lusty and like to live: the queen receives
	Much comfort in't; says 'My poor prisoner,
	I am innocent as you.'

PAULINA	I dare be sworn
	These dangerous unsafe lunes i' the king,
	beshrew them!
	He must be told on't, and he shall: the office
	Becomes a woman best; I'll take't upon me:
	If I prove honey-mouth'd let my tongue blister
	And never to my red-look'd anger be
	The trumpet any more. Pray you, Emilia,
	Commend my best obedience to the queen:
	If she dares trust me with her little babe,
	I'll show't the king and undertake to be
	Her advocate to the loud'st. We do not know
	How he may soften at the sight o' the child:
	The silence often of pure innocence
	Persuades when speaking fails.

EMILIA	Most worthy madam,
	Your honour and your goodness is so evident
	That your free undertaking cannot miss
	A thriving issue: there is no lady living
	So meet for this great errand. Please your ladyship
	To visit the next room, I'll presently
	Acquaint the queen of your most noble offer;
	Who but to-day hammer'd of this design,
	But durst not tempt a minister of honour,
	Lest she should be denied.

PAULINA	Tell her, Emilia.
	I'll use that tongue I have: if wit flow from't
	As boldness from my bosom, let 't not be doubted
	I shall do good.

EMILIA	                  Now be you blest for it!
	I'll to the queen: please you,
	come something nearer.

Gaoler	Madam, if't please the queen to send the babe,
	I know not what I shall incur to pass it,
	Having no warrant.

PAULINA	                  You need not fear it, sir:
	This child was prisoner to the womb and is
	By law and process of great nature thence
	Freed and enfranchised, not a party to
	The anger of the king nor guilty of,
	If any be, the trespass of the queen.

Gaoler	I do believe it.

PAULINA	                  Do not you fear: upon mine honour,
	I will stand betwixt you and danger.

	[Exeunt]




	THE WINTER'S TALE


ACT II



SCENE III	A room in LEONTES' palace.


	[Enter LEONTES, ANTIGONUS, Lords, and Servants]

LEONTES	Nor night nor day no rest: it is but weakness
	To bear the matter thus; mere weakness. If
	The cause were not in being,--part o' the cause,
	She the adulteress; for the harlot king
	Is quite beyond mine arm, out of the blank
	And level of my brain, plot-proof; but she
	I can hook to me: say that she were gone,
	Given to the fire, a moiety of my rest
	Might come to me again. Who's there?

First Servant	My lord?

LEONTES	How does the boy?

First Servant	                  He took good rest to-night;
	'Tis hoped his sickness is discharged.

LEONTES	To see his nobleness!
	Conceiving the dishonour of his mother,
	He straight declined, droop'd, took it deeply,
	Fasten'd and fix'd the shame on't in himself,
	Threw off his spirit, his appetite, his sleep,
	And downright languish'd. Leave me solely: go,
	See how he fares.

	[Exit Servant]

	Fie, fie! no thought of him:
	The thought of my revenges that way
	Recoil upon me: in himself too mighty,
	And in his parties, his alliance; let him be
	Until a time may serve: for present vengeance,
	Take it on her. Camillo and Polixenes
	Laugh at me, make their pastime at my sorrow:
	They should not laugh if I could reach them, nor
	Shall she within my power.

	[Enter PAULINA, with a child]

First Lord	You must not enter.

PAULINA	Nay, rather, good my lords, be second to me:
	Fear you his tyrannous passion more, alas,
	Than the queen's life? a gracious innocent soul,
	More free than he is jealous.

ANTIGONUS	That's enough.

Second Servant	Madam, he hath not slept tonight; commanded
	None should come at him.

PAULINA	Not so hot, good sir:
	I come to bring him sleep. 'Tis such as you,
	That creep like shadows by him and do sigh
	At each his needless heavings, such as you
	Nourish the cause of his awaking: I
	Do come with words as medicinal as true,
	Honest as either, to purge him of that humour
	That presses him from sleep.

LEONTES	What noise there, ho?

PAULINA	No noise, my lord; but needful conference
	About some gossips for your highness.

LEONTES	How!
	Away with that audacious lady! Antigonus,
	I charged thee that she should not come about me:
	I knew she would.

ANTIGONUS	                  I told her so, my lord,
	On your displeasure's peril and on mine,
	She should not visit you.

LEONTES	What, canst not rule her?

PAULINA	From all dishonesty he can: in this,
	Unless he take the course that you have done,
	Commit me for committing honour, trust it,
	He shall not rule me.

ANTIGONUS	La you now, you hear:
	When she will take the rein I let her run;
	But she'll not stumble.

PAULINA	Good my liege, I come;
	And, I beseech you, hear me, who profess
	Myself your loyal servant, your physician,
	Your most obedient counsellor, yet that dare
	Less appear so in comforting your evils,
	Than such as most seem yours: I say, I come
	From your good queen.

LEONTES	Good queen!

PAULINA	Good queen, my lord,
	Good queen; I say good queen;
	And would by combat make her good, so were I
	A man, the worst about you.

LEONTES	Force her hence.

PAULINA	Let him that makes but trifles of his eyes
	First hand me: on mine own accord I'll off;
	But first I'll do my errand. The good queen,
	For she is good, hath brought you forth a daughter;
	Here 'tis; commends it to your blessing.

	[Laying down the child]

LEONTES	Out!
	A mankind witch! Hence with her, out o' door:
	A most intelligencing bawd!

PAULINA	Not so:
	I am as ignorant in that as you
	In so entitling me, and no less honest
	Than you are mad; which is enough, I'll warrant,
	As this world goes, to pass for honest.

LEONTES	Traitors!
	Will you not push her out? Give her the bastard.
	Thou dotard! thou art woman-tired, unroosted
	By thy dame Partlet here. Take up the bastard;
	Take't up, I say; give't to thy crone.

PAULINA	For ever
	Unvenerable be thy hands, if thou
	Takest up the princess by that forced baseness
	Which he has put upon't!

LEONTES	He dreads his wife.

PAULINA	So I would you did; then 'twere past all doubt
	You'ld call your children yours.

LEONTES	A nest of traitors!

ANTIGONUS	I am none, by this good light.

PAULINA	Nor I, nor any
	But one that's here, and that's himself, for he
	The sacred honour of himself, his queen's,
	His hopeful son's, his babe's, betrays to slander,
	Whose sting is sharper than the sword's;
	and will not--
	For, as the case now stands, it is a curse
	He cannot be compell'd to't--once remove
	The root of his opinion, which is rotten
	As ever oak or stone was sound.

LEONTES	A callat
	Of boundless tongue, who late hath beat her husband
	And now baits me! This brat is none of mine;
	It is the issue of Polixenes:
	Hence with it, and together with the dam
	Commit them to the fire!

PAULINA	It is yours;
	And, might we lay the old proverb to your charge,
	So like you, 'tis the worse. Behold, my lords,
	Although the print be little, the whole matter
	And copy of the father, eye, nose, lip,
	The trick of's frown, his forehead, nay, the valley,
	The pretty dimples of his chin and cheek,
	His smiles,
	The very mould and frame of hand, nail, finger:
	And thou, good goddess Nature, which hast made it
	So like to him that got it, if thou hast
	The ordering of the mind too, 'mongst all colours
	No yellow in't, lest she suspect, as he does,
	Her children not her husband's!

LEONTES	A gross hag
	And, lozel, thou art worthy to be hang'd,
	That wilt not stay her tongue.

ANTIGONUS	Hang all the husbands
	That cannot do that feat, you'll leave yourself
	Hardly one subject.

LEONTES	Once more, take her hence.

PAULINA	A most unworthy and unnatural lord
	Can do no more.

LEONTES	                  I'll ha' thee burnt.

PAULINA	I care not:
	It is an heretic that makes the fire,
	Not she which burns in't. I'll not call you tyrant;
	But this most cruel usage of your queen,
	Not able to produce more accusation
	Than your own weak-hinged fancy, something savours
	Of tyranny and will ignoble make you,
	Yea, scandalous to the world.

LEONTES	On your allegiance,
	Out of the chamber with her! Were I a tyrant,
	Where were her life? she durst not call me so,
	If she did know me one. Away with her!

PAULINA	I pray you, do not push me; I'll be gone.
	Look to your babe, my lord; 'tis yours:
	Jove send her
	A better guiding spirit! What needs these hands?
	You, that are thus so tender o'er his follies,
	Will never do him good, not one of you.
	So, so: farewell; we are gone.

	[Exit]

LEONTES	Thou, traitor, hast set on thy wife to this.
	My child? away with't! Even thou, that hast
	A heart so tender o'er it, take it hence
	And see it instantly consumed with fire;
	Even thou and none but thou. Take it up straight:
	Within this hour bring me word 'tis done,
	And by good testimony, or I'll seize thy life,
	With what thou else call'st thine. If thou refuse
	And wilt encounter with my wrath, say so;
	The bastard brains with these my proper hands
	Shall I dash out. Go, take it to the fire;
	For thou set'st on thy wife.

ANTIGONUS	I did not, sir:
	These lords, my noble fellows, if they please,
	Can clear me in't.

Lords	                  We can: my royal liege,
	He is not guilty of her coming hither.

LEONTES	You're liars all.

First Lord	Beseech your highness, give us better credit:
	We have always truly served you, and beseech you
	So to esteem of us, and on our knees we beg,
	As recompense of our dear services
	Past and to come, that you do change this purpose,
	Which being so horrible, so bloody, must
	Lead on to some foul issue: we all kneel.

LEONTES	I am a feather for each wind that blows:
	Shall I live on to see this bastard kneel
	And call me father? better burn it now
	Than curse it then. But be it; let it live.
	It shall not neither. You, sir, come you hither;
	You that have been so tenderly officious
	With Lady Margery, your midwife there,
	To save this bastard's life,--for 'tis a bastard,
	So sure as this beard's grey,
	--what will you adventure
	To save this brat's life?

ANTIGONUS	Any thing, my lord,
	That my ability may undergo
	And nobleness impose: at least thus much:
	I'll pawn the little blood which I have left
	To save the innocent: any thing possible.

LEONTES	It shall be possible. Swear by this sword
	Thou wilt perform my bidding.

ANTIGONUS	I will, my lord.

LEONTES	Mark and perform it, see'st thou! for the fail
	Of any point in't shall not only be
	Death to thyself but to thy lewd-tongued wife,
	Whom for this time we pardon. We enjoin thee,
	As thou art liege-man to us, that thou carry
	This female bastard hence and that thou bear it
	To some remote and desert place quite out
	Of our dominions, and that there thou leave it,
	Without more mercy, to its own protection
	And favour of the climate. As by strange fortune
	It came to us, I do in justice charge thee,
	On thy soul's peril and thy body's torture,
	That thou commend it strangely to some place
	Where chance may nurse or end it. Take it up.

ANTIGONUS	I swear to do this, though a present death
	Had been more merciful. Come on, poor babe:
	Some powerful spirit instruct the kites and ravens
	To be thy nurses! Wolves and bears, they say
	Casting their savageness aside have done
	Like offices of pity. Sir, be prosperous
	In more than this deed does require! And blessing
	Against this cruelty fight on thy side,
	Poor thing, condemn'd to loss!

	[Exit with the child]

LEONTES	No, I'll not rear
	Another's issue.

	[Enter a Servant]

Servant	                  Please your highness, posts
	From those you sent to the oracle are come
	An hour since: Cleomenes and Dion,
	Being well arrived from Delphos, are both landed,
	Hasting to the court.

First Lord	So please you, sir, their speed
	Hath been beyond account.

LEONTES	Twenty-three days
	They have been absent: 'tis good speed; foretells
	The great Apollo suddenly will have
	The truth of this appear. Prepare you, lords;
	Summon a session, that we may arraign
	Our most disloyal lady, for, as she hath
	Been publicly accused, so shall she have
	A just and open trial. While she lives
	My heart will be a burthen to me. Leave me,
	And think upon my bidding.

	[Exeunt]




	THE WINTER'S TALE


ACT III



SCENE I	A sea-port in Sicilia.



	[Enter CLEOMENES and DION]

CLEOMENES	The climate's delicate, the air most sweet,
	Fertile the isle, the temple much surpassing
	The common praise it bears.

DION	I shall report,
	For most it caught me, the celestial habits,
	Methinks I so should term them, and the reverence
	Of the grave wearers. O, the sacrifice!
	How ceremonious, solemn and unearthly
	It was i' the offering!

CLEOMENES	But of all, the burst
	And the ear-deafening voice o' the oracle,
	Kin to Jove's thunder, so surprised my sense.
	That I was nothing.

DION	If the event o' the journey
	Prove as successful to the queen,--O be't so!--
	As it hath been to us rare, pleasant, speedy,
	The time is worth the use on't.

CLEOMENES	Great Apollo
	Turn all to the best! These proclamations,
	So forcing faults upon Hermione,
	I little like.

DION	                  The violent carriage of it
	Will clear or end the business: when the oracle,
	Thus by Apollo's great divine seal'd up,
	Shall the contents discover, something rare
	Even then will rush to knowledge. Go: fresh horses!
	And gracious be the issue!

	[Exeunt]




	THE WINTER'S TALE


ACT III



SCENE II	A court of Justice.


	[Enter LEONTES, Lords, and Officers]

LEONTES	This sessions, to our great grief we pronounce,
	Even pushes 'gainst our heart: the party tried
	The daughter of a king, our wife, and one
	Of us too much beloved. Let us be clear'd
	Of being tyrannous, since we so openly
	Proceed in justice, which shall have due course,
	Even to the guilt or the purgation.
	Produce the prisoner.

Officer	It is his highness' pleasure that the queen
	Appear in person here in court. Silence!

	[Enter HERMIONE guarded;
	PAULINA and Ladies attending]

LEONTES	Read the indictment.

Officer	[Reads]            Hermione, queen to the worthy
	Leontes, king of Sicilia, thou art here accused and
	arraigned of high treason, in committing adultery
	with Polixenes, king of Bohemia, and conspiring
	with Camillo to take away the life of our sovereign
	lord the king, thy royal husband: the pretence
	whereof being by circumstances partly laid open,
	thou, Hermione, contrary to the faith and allegiance
	of a true subject, didst counsel and aid them, for
	their better safety, to fly away by night.

HERMIONE	Since what I am to say must be but that
	Which contradicts my accusation and
	The testimony on my part no other
	But what comes from myself, it shall scarce boot me
	To say 'not guilty:' mine integrity
	Being counted falsehood, shall, as I express it,
	Be so received. But thus: if powers divine
	Behold our human actions, as they do,
	I doubt not then but innocence shall make
	False accusation blush and tyranny
	Tremble at patience. You, my lord, best know,
	Who least will seem to do so, my past life
	Hath been as continent, as chaste, as true,
	As I am now unhappy; which is more
	Than history can pattern, though devised
	And play'd to take spectators. For behold me
	A fellow of the royal bed, which owe
	A moiety of the throne a great king's daughter,
	The mother to a hopeful prince, here standing
	To prate and talk for life and honour 'fore
	Who please to come and hear. For life, I prize it
	As I weigh grief, which I would spare: for honour,
	'Tis a derivative from me to mine,
	And only that I stand for. I appeal
	To your own conscience, sir, before Polixenes
	Came to your court, how I was in your grace,
	How merited to be so; since he came,
	With what encounter so uncurrent I
	Have strain'd to appear thus: if one jot beyond
	The bound of honour, or in act or will
	That way inclining, harden'd be the hearts
	Of all that hear me, and my near'st of kin
	Cry fie upon my grave!

LEONTES	I ne'er heard yet
	That any of these bolder vices wanted
	Less impudence to gainsay what they did
	Than to perform it first.

HERMIONE	That's true enough;
	Through 'tis a saying, sir, not due to me.

LEONTES	You will not own it.

HERMIONE	More than mistress of
	Which comes to me in name of fault, I must not
	At all acknowledge. For Polixenes,
	With whom I am accused, I do confess
	I loved him as in honour he required,
	With such a kind of love as might become
	A lady like me, with a love even such,
	So and no other, as yourself commanded:
	Which not to have done I think had been in me
	Both disobedience and ingratitude
	To you and toward your friend, whose love had spoke,
	Even since it could speak, from an infant, freely
	That it was yours. Now, for conspiracy,
	I know not how it tastes; though it be dish'd
	For me to try how: all I know of it
	Is that Camillo was an honest man;
	And why he left your court, the gods themselves,
	Wotting no more than I, are ignorant.

LEONTES	You knew of his departure, as you know
	What you have underta'en to do in's absence.

HERMIONE	Sir,
	You speak a language that I understand not:
	My life stands in the level of your dreams,
	Which I'll lay down.

LEONTES	Your actions are my dreams;
	You had a bastard by Polixenes,
	And I but dream'd it. As you were past all shame,--
	Those of your fact are so--so past all truth:
	Which to deny concerns more than avails; for as
	Thy brat hath been cast out, like to itself,
	No father owning it,--which is, indeed,
	More criminal in thee than it,--so thou
	Shalt feel our justice, in whose easiest passage
	Look for no less than death.

HERMIONE	Sir, spare your threats:
	The bug which you would fright me with I seek.
	To me can life be no commodity:
	The crown and comfort of my life, your favour,
	I do give lost; for I do feel it gone,
	But know not how it went. My second joy
	And first-fruits of my body, from his presence
	I am barr'd, like one infectious. My third comfort
	Starr'd most unluckily, is from my breast,
	The innocent milk in its most innocent mouth,
	Haled out to murder: myself on every post
	Proclaimed a strumpet: with immodest hatred
	The child-bed privilege denied, which 'longs
	To women of all fashion; lastly, hurried
	Here to this place, i' the open air, before
	I have got strength of limit. Now, my liege,
	Tell me what blessings I have here alive,
	That I should fear to die? Therefore proceed.
	But yet hear this: mistake me not; no life,
	I prize it not a straw, but for mine honour,
	Which I would free, if I shall be condemn'd
	Upon surmises, all proofs sleeping else
	But what your jealousies awake, I tell you
	'Tis rigor and not law. Your honours all,
	I do refer me to the oracle:
	Apollo be my judge!

First Lord	This your request
	Is altogether just: therefore bring forth,
	And in Apollos name, his oracle.

	[Exeunt certain Officers]

HERMIONE	The Emperor of Russia was my father:
	O that he were alive, and here beholding
	His daughter's trial! that he did but see
	The flatness of my misery, yet with eyes
	Of pity, not revenge!

	[Re-enter Officers, with CLEOMENES and DION]

Officer	You here shall swear upon this sword of justice,
	That you, Cleomenes and Dion, have
	Been both at Delphos, and from thence have brought
	The seal'd-up oracle, by the hand deliver'd
	Of great Apollo's priest; and that, since then,
	You have not dared to break the holy seal
	Nor read the secrets in't.


CLEOMENES	|
	|	All this we swear.
DION	|


LEONTES	Break up the seals and read.

Officer	[Reads]	Hermione is chaste;
	Polixenes blameless; Camillo a true subject; Leontes
	a jealous tyrant; his innocent babe truly begotten;
	and the king shall live without an heir, if that
	which is lost be not found.

Lords	Now blessed be the great Apollo!

HERMIONE	Praised!

LEONTES	Hast thou read truth?

Officer	Ay, my lord; even so
	As it is here set down.

LEONTES	There is no truth at all i' the oracle:
	The sessions shall proceed: this is mere falsehood.

	[Enter Servant]

Servant	My lord the king, the king!

LEONTES	What is the business?

Servant	O sir, I shall be hated to report it!
	The prince your son, with mere conceit and fear
	Of the queen's speed, is gone.

LEONTES	How! gone!

Servant	Is dead.

LEONTES	Apollo's angry; and the heavens themselves
	Do strike at my injustice.

	[HERMIONE swoons]

		     How now there!

PAULINA	This news is mortal to the queen: look down
	And see what death is doing.

LEONTES	Take her hence:
	Her heart is but o'ercharged; she will recover:
	I have too much believed mine own suspicion:
	Beseech you, tenderly apply to her
	Some remedies for life.

	[Exeunt PAULINA and Ladies, with HERMIONE]

		  Apollo, pardon
	My great profaneness 'gainst thine oracle!
	I'll reconcile me to Polixenes,
	New woo my queen, recall the good Camillo,
	Whom I proclaim a man of truth, of mercy;
	For, being transported by my jealousies
	To bloody thoughts and to revenge, I chose
	Camillo for the minister to poison
	My friend Polixenes: which had been done,
	But that the good mind of Camillo tardied
	My swift command, though I with death and with
	Reward did threaten and encourage him,
	Not doing 't and being done: he, most humane
	And fill'd with honour, to my kingly guest
	Unclasp'd my practise, quit his fortunes here,
	Which you knew great, and to the hazard
	Of all encertainties himself commended,
	No richer than his honour: how he glisters
	Thorough my rust! and how his pity
	Does my deeds make the blacker!

	[Re-enter PAULINA]

PAULINA	Woe the while!
	O, cut my lace, lest my heart, cracking it,
	Break too.

First Lord	          What fit is this, good lady?

PAULINA	What studied torments, tyrant, hast for me?
	What wheels? racks? fires? what flaying? boiling?
	In leads or oils? what old or newer torture
	Must I receive, whose every word deserves
	To taste of thy most worst? Thy tyranny
	Together working with thy jealousies,
	Fancies too weak for boys, too green and idle
	For girls of nine, O, think what they have done
	And then run mad indeed, stark mad! for all
	Thy by-gone fooleries were but spices of it.
	That thou betray'dst Polixenes,'twas nothing;
	That did but show thee, of a fool, inconstant
	And damnable ingrateful: nor was't much,
	Thou wouldst have poison'd good Camillo's honour,
	To have him kill a king: poor trespasses,
	More monstrous standing by: whereof I reckon
	The casting forth to crows thy baby-daughter
	To be or none or little; though a devil
	Would have shed water out of fire ere done't:
	Nor is't directly laid to thee, the death
	Of the young prince, whose honourable thoughts,
	Thoughts high for one so tender, cleft the heart
	That could conceive a gross and foolish sire
	Blemish'd his gracious dam: this is not, no,
	Laid to thy answer: but the last,--O lords,
	When I have said, cry 'woe!' the queen, the queen,
	The sweet'st, dear'st creature's dead,
	and vengeance for't
	Not dropp'd down yet.

First Lord	The higher powers forbid!

PAULINA	I say she's dead; I'll swear't. If word nor oath
	Prevail not, go and see: if you can bring
	Tincture or lustre in her lip, her eye,
	Heat outwardly or breath within, I'll serve you
	As I would do the gods. But, O thou tyrant!
	Do not repent these things, for they are heavier
	Than all thy woes can stir; therefore betake thee
	To nothing but despair. A thousand knees
	Ten thousand years together, naked, fasting,
	Upon a barren mountain and still winter
	In storm perpetual, could not move the gods
	To look that way thou wert.

LEONTES	Go on, go on
	Thou canst not speak too much; I have deserved
	All tongues to talk their bitterest.

First Lord	Say no more:
	Howe'er the business goes, you have made fault
	I' the boldness of your speech.

PAULINA	I am sorry for't:
	All faults I make, when I shall come to know them,
	I do repent. Alas! I have show'd too much
	The rashness of a woman: he is touch'd
	To the noble heart. What's gone and what's past help
	Should be past grief: do not receive affliction
	At my petition; I beseech you, rather
	Let me be punish'd, that have minded you
	Of what you should forget. Now, good my liege
	Sir, royal sir, forgive a foolish woman:
	The love I bore your queen--lo, fool again!--
	I'll speak of her no more, nor of your children;
	I'll not remember you of my own lord,
	Who is lost too: take your patience to you,
	And I'll say nothing.

LEONTES	Thou didst speak but well
	When most the truth; which I receive much better
	Than to be pitied of thee. Prithee, bring me
	To the dead bodies of my queen and son:
	One grave shall be for both: upon them shall
	The causes of their death appear, unto
	Our shame perpetual. Once a day I'll visit
	The chapel where they lie, and tears shed there
	Shall be my recreation: so long as nature
	Will bear up with this exercise, so long
	I daily vow to use it. Come and lead me
	Unto these sorrows.

	[Exeunt]




	THE WINTER'S TALE


ACT III



SCENE III	Bohemia. A desert country near the sea.


	[Enter ANTIGONUS with a Child, and a Mariner]

ANTIGONUS	Thou art perfect then, our ship hath touch'd upon
	The deserts of Bohemia?

Mariner	Ay, my lord: and fear
	We have landed in ill time: the skies look grimly
	And threaten present blusters. In my conscience,
	The heavens with that we have in hand are angry
	And frown upon 's.

ANTIGONUS	Their sacred wills be done! Go, get aboard;
	Look to thy bark: I'll not be long before
	I call upon thee.

Mariner	Make your best haste, and go not
	Too far i' the land: 'tis like to be loud weather;
	Besides, this place is famous for the creatures
	Of prey that keep upon't.

ANTIGONUS	Go thou away:
	I'll follow instantly.

Mariner	I am glad at heart
	To be so rid o' the business.

	[Exit]

ANTIGONUS	Come, poor babe:
	I have heard, but not believed,
	the spirits o' the dead
	May walk again: if such thing be, thy mother
	Appear'd to me last night, for ne'er was dream
	So like a waking. To me comes a creature,
	Sometimes her head on one side, some another;
	I never saw a vessel of like sorrow,
	So fill'd and so becoming: in pure white robes,
	Like very sanctity, she did approach
	My cabin where I lay; thrice bow'd before me,
	And gasping to begin some speech, her eyes
	Became two spouts: the fury spent, anon
	Did this break-from her: 'Good Antigonus,
	Since fate, against thy better disposition,
	Hath made thy person for the thrower-out
	Of my poor babe, according to thine oath,
	Places remote enough are in Bohemia,
	There weep and leave it crying; and, for the babe
	Is counted lost for ever, Perdita,
	I prithee, call't. For this ungentle business
	Put on thee by my lord, thou ne'er shalt see
	Thy wife Paulina more.' And so, with shrieks
	She melted into air. Affrighted much,
	I did in time collect myself and thought
	This was so and no slumber. Dreams are toys:
	Yet for this once, yea, superstitiously,
	I will be squared by this. I do believe
	Hermione hath suffer'd death, and that
	Apollo would, this being indeed the issue
	Of King Polixenes, it should here be laid,
	Either for life or death, upon the earth
	Of its right father. Blossom, speed thee well!
	There lie, and there thy character: there these;
	Which may, if fortune please, both breed thee, pretty,
	And still rest thine. The storm begins; poor wretch,
	That for thy mother's fault art thus exposed
	To loss and what may follow! Weep I cannot,
	But my heart bleeds; and most accursed am I
	To be by oath enjoin'd to this. Farewell!
	The day frowns more and more: thou'rt like to have
	A lullaby too rough: I never saw
	The heavens so dim by day. A savage clamour!
	Well may I get aboard! This is the chase:
	I am gone for ever.

	[Exit, pursued by a bear]

	[Enter a Shepherd]

Shepherd	I would there were no age between sixteen and
	three-and-twenty, or that youth would sleep out the
	rest; for there is nothing in the between but
	getting wenches with child, wronging the ancientry,
	stealing, fighting--Hark you now! Would any but
	these boiled brains of nineteen and two-and-twenty
	hunt this weather? They have scared away two of my
	best sheep, which I fear the wolf will sooner find
	than the master: if any where I have them, 'tis by
	the seaside, browsing of ivy. Good luck, an't be thy
	will what have we here! Mercy on 's, a barne a very
	pretty barne! A boy or a child, I wonder? A
	pretty one; a very pretty one: sure, some 'scape:
	though I am not bookish, yet I can read
	waiting-gentlewoman in the 'scape. This has been
	some stair-work, some trunk-work, some
	behind-door-work: they were warmer that got this
	than the poor thing is here. I'll take it up for
	pity: yet I'll tarry till my son come; he hallooed
	but even now. Whoa, ho, hoa!

	[Enter Clown]

Clown	Hilloa, loa!

Shepherd	What, art so near? If thou'lt see a thing to talk
	on when thou art dead and rotten, come hither. What
	ailest thou, man?

Clown	I have seen two such sights, by sea and by land!
	but I am not to say it is a sea, for it is now the
	sky: betwixt the firmament and it you cannot thrust
	a bodkin's point.

Shepherd	Why, boy, how is it?

Clown	I would you did but see how it chafes, how it rages,
	how it takes up the shore! but that's not the
	point. O, the most piteous cry of the poor souls!
	sometimes to see 'em, and not to see 'em; now the
	ship boring the moon with her main-mast, and anon
	swallowed with yest and froth, as you'ld thrust a
	cork into a hogshead. And then for the
	land-service, to see how the bear tore out his
	shoulder-bone; how he cried to me for help and said
	his name was Antigonus, a nobleman. But to make an
	end of the ship, to see how the sea flap-dragoned
	it: but, first, how the poor souls roared, and the
	sea mocked them; and how the poor gentleman roared
	and the bear mocked him, both roaring louder than
	the sea or weather.

Shepherd	Name of mercy, when was this, boy?

Clown	Now, now: I have not winked since I saw these
	sights: the men are not yet cold under water, nor
	the bear half dined on the gentleman: he's at it
	now.

Shepherd	Would I had been by, to have helped the old man!

Clown	I would you had been by the ship side, to have
	helped her: there your charity would have lacked footing.

Shepherd	Heavy matters! heavy matters! but look thee here,
	boy. Now bless thyself: thou mettest with things
	dying, I with things newborn. Here's a sight for
	thee; look thee, a bearing-cloth for a squire's
	child! look thee here; take up, take up, boy;
	open't. So, let's see: it was told me I should be
	rich by the fairies. This is some changeling:
	open't. What's within, boy?

Clown	You're a made old man: if the sins of your youth
	are forgiven you, you're well to live. Gold! all gold!

Shepherd	This is fairy gold, boy, and 'twill prove so: up
	with't, keep it close: home, home, the next way.
	We are lucky, boy; and to be so still requires
	nothing but secrecy. Let my sheep go: come, good
	boy, the next way home.

Clown	Go you the next way with your findings. I'll go see
	if the bear be gone from the gentleman and how much
	he hath eaten: they are never curst but when they
	are hungry: if there be any of him left, I'll bury
	it.

Shepherd	That's a good deed. If thou mayest discern by that
	which is left of him what he is, fetch me to the
	sight of him.

Clown	Marry, will I; and you shall help to put him i' the ground.

Shepherd	'Tis a lucky day, boy, and we'll do good deeds on't.

	[Exeunt]




	THE WINTER'S TALE


ACT IV



SCENE I:


	[Enter Time, the Chorus]

Time	I, that please some, try all, both joy and terror
	Of good and bad, that makes and unfolds error,
	Now take upon me, in the name of Time,
	To use my wings. Impute it not a crime
	To me or my swift passage, that I slide
	O'er sixteen years and leave the growth untried
	Of that wide gap, since it is in my power
	To o'erthrow law and in one self-born hour
	To plant and o'erwhelm custom. Let me pass
	The same I am, ere ancient'st order was
	Or what is now received: I witness to
	The times that brought them in; so shall I do
	To the freshest things now reigning and make stale
	The glistering of this present, as my tale
	Now seems to it. Your patience this allowing,
	I turn my glass and give my scene such growing
	As you had slept between: Leontes leaving,
	The effects of his fond jealousies so grieving
	That he shuts up himself, imagine me,
	Gentle spectators, that I now may be
	In fair Bohemia, and remember well,
	I mentioned a son o' the king's, which Florizel
	I now name to you; and with speed so pace
	To speak of Perdita, now grown in grace
	Equal with wondering: what of her ensues
	I list not prophecy; but let Time's news
	Be known when 'tis brought forth.
	A shepherd's daughter,
	And what to her adheres, which follows after,
	Is the argument of Time. Of this allow,
	If ever you have spent time worse ere now;
	If never, yet that Time himself doth say
	He wishes earnestly you never may.

	[Exit]




	THE WINTER'S TALE


ACT IV



SCENE II	Bohemia. The palace of POLIXENES.


	[Enter POLIXENES and CAMILLO]

POLIXENES	I pray thee, good Camillo, be no more importunate:
	'tis a sickness denying thee any thing; a death to
	grant this.

CAMILLO	It is fifteen years since I saw my country: though
	I have for the most part been aired abroad, I
	desire to lay my bones there. Besides, the penitent
	king, my master, hath sent for me; to whose feeling
	sorrows I might be some allay, or I o'erween to
	think so, which is another spur to my departure.

POLIXENES	As thou lovest me, Camillo, wipe not out the rest of
	thy services by leaving me now: the need I have of
	thee thine own goodness hath made; better not to
	have had thee than thus to want thee: thou, having
	made me businesses which none without thee can
	sufficiently manage, must either stay to execute
	them thyself or take away with thee the very
	services thou hast done; which if I have not enough
	considered, as too much I cannot, to be more
	thankful to thee shall be my study, and my profit
	therein the heaping friendships. Of that fatal
	country, Sicilia, prithee speak no more; whose very
	naming punishes me with the remembrance of that
	penitent, as thou callest him, and reconciled king,
	my brother; whose loss of his most precious queen
	and children are even now to be afresh lamented.
	Say to me, when sawest thou the Prince Florizel, my
	son? Kings are no less unhappy, their issue not
	being gracious, than they are in losing them when
	they have approved their virtues.

CAMILLO	Sir, it is three days since I saw the prince. What
	his happier affairs may be, are to me unknown: but I
	have missingly noted, he is of late much retired
	from court and is less frequent to his princely
	exercises than formerly he hath appeared.

POLIXENES	I have considered so much, Camillo, and with some
	care; so far that I have eyes under my service which
	look upon his removedness; from whom I have this
	intelligence, that he is seldom from the house of a
	most homely shepherd; a man, they say, that from
	very nothing, and beyond the imagination of his
	neighbours, is grown into an unspeakable estate.

CAMILLO	I have heard, sir, of such a man, who hath a
	daughter of most rare note: the report of her is
	extended more than can be thought to begin from such a cottage.

POLIXENES	That's likewise part of my intelligence; but, I
	fear, the angle that plucks our son thither. Thou
	shalt accompany us to the place; where we will, not
	appearing what we are, have some question with the
	shepherd; from whose simplicity I think it not
	uneasy to get the cause of my son's resort thither.
	Prithee, be my present partner in this business, and
	lay aside the thoughts of Sicilia.

CAMILLO	I willingly obey your command.

POLIXENES	My best Camillo! We must disguise ourselves.

	[Exeunt]




	THE WINTER'S TALE


ACT IV



SCENE III	A road near the Shepherd's cottage.


	[Enter AUTOLYCUS, singing]

AUTOLYCUS	When daffodils begin to peer,
	With heigh! the doxy over the dale,
	Why, then comes in the sweet o' the year;
	For the red blood reigns in the winter's pale.

	The white sheet bleaching on the hedge,
	With heigh! the sweet birds, O, how they sing!
	Doth set my pugging tooth on edge;
	For a quart of ale is a dish for a king.

	The lark, that tirra-lyra chants,
	With heigh! with heigh! the thrush and the jay,
	Are summer songs for me and my aunts,
	While we lie tumbling in the hay.

	I have served Prince Florizel and in my time
	wore three-pile; but now I am out of service:

	But shall I go mourn for that, my dear?
	The pale moon shines by night:
	And when I wander here and there,
	I then do most go right.

	If tinkers may have leave to live,
	And bear the sow-skin budget,
	Then my account I well may, give,
	And in the stocks avouch it.

	My traffic is sheets; when the kite builds, look to
	lesser linen. My father named me Autolycus; who
	being, as I am, littered under Mercury, was likewise
	a snapper-up of unconsidered trifles. With die and
	drab I purchased this caparison, and my revenue is
	the silly cheat. Gallows and knock are too powerful
	on the highway: beating and hanging are terrors to
	me: for the life to come, I sleep out the thought
	of it. A prize! a prize!

	[Enter Clown]

Clown	Let me see: every 'leven wether tods; every tod
	yields pound and odd shilling; fifteen hundred
	shorn. what comes the wool to?

AUTOLYCUS	[Aside]

	If the springe hold, the cock's mine.

Clown	I cannot do't without counters. Let me see; what am
	I to buy for our sheep-shearing feast? Three pound
	of sugar, five pound of currants, rice,--what will
	this sister of mine do with rice? But my father
	hath made her mistress of the feast, and she lays it
	on. She hath made me four and twenty nose-gays for
	the shearers, three-man-song-men all, and very good
	ones; but they are most of them means and bases; but
	one puritan amongst them, and he sings psalms to
	horn-pipes. I must have saffron to colour the warden
	pies; mace; dates?--none, that's out of my note;
	nutmegs, seven; a race or two of ginger, but that I
	may beg; four pound of prunes, and as many of
	raisins o' the sun.

AUTOLYCUS	O that ever I was born!

	[Grovelling on the ground]

Clown	I' the name of me--

AUTOLYCUS	O, help me, help me! pluck but off these rags; and
	then, death, death!

Clown	Alack, poor soul! thou hast need of more rags to lay
	on thee, rather than have these off.

AUTOLYCUS	O sir, the loathsomeness of them offends me more
	than the stripes I have received, which are mighty
	ones and millions.

Clown	Alas, poor man! a million of beating may come to a
	great matter.

AUTOLYCUS	I am robbed, sir, and beaten; my money and apparel
	ta'en from me, and these detestable things put upon
	me.

Clown	What, by a horseman, or a footman?

AUTOLYCUS	A footman, sweet sir, a footman.

Clown	Indeed, he should be a footman by the garments he
	has left with thee: if this be a horseman's coat,
	it hath seen very hot service. Lend me thy hand,
	I'll help thee: come, lend me thy hand.

AUTOLYCUS	O, good sir, tenderly, O!

Clown	Alas, poor soul!

AUTOLYCUS	O, good sir, softly, good sir! I fear, sir, my
	shoulder-blade is out.

Clown	How now! canst stand?

AUTOLYCUS	[Picking his pocket]

	Softly, dear sir; good sir, softly. You ha' done me
	a charitable office.

Clown	Dost lack any money? I have a little money for thee.

AUTOLYCUS	No, good sweet sir; no, I beseech you, sir: I have
	a kinsman not past three quarters of a mile hence,
	unto whom I was going; I shall there have money, or
	any thing I want: offer me no money, I pray you;
	that kills my heart.

Clown	What manner of fellow was he that robbed you?

AUTOLYCUS	A fellow, sir, that I have known to go about with
	troll-my-dames; I knew him once a servant of the
	prince: I cannot tell, good sir, for which of his
	virtues it was, but he was certainly whipped out of the court.

Clown	His vices, you would say; there's no virtue whipped
	out of the court: they cherish it to make it stay
	there; and yet it will no more but abide.

AUTOLYCUS	Vices, I would say, sir. I know this man well: he
	hath been since an ape-bearer; then a
	process-server, a bailiff; then he compassed a
	motion of the Prodigal Son, and married a tinker's
	wife within a mile where my land and living lies;
	and, having flown over many knavish professions, he
	settled only in rogue: some call him Autolycus.

Clown	Out upon him! prig, for my life, prig: he haunts
	wakes, fairs and bear-baitings.

AUTOLYCUS	Very true, sir; he, sir, he; that's the rogue that
	put me into this apparel.

Clown	Not a more cowardly rogue in all Bohemia: if you had
	but looked big and spit at him, he'ld have run.

AUTOLYCUS	I must confess to you, sir, I am no fighter: I am
	false of heart that way; and that he knew, I warrant
	him.

Clown	How do you now?

AUTOLYCUS	Sweet sir, much better than I was; I can stand and
	walk: I will even take my leave of you, and pace
	softly towards my kinsman's.

Clown	Shall I bring thee on the way?

AUTOLYCUS	No, good-faced sir; no, sweet sir.

Clown	Then fare thee well: I must go buy spices for our
	sheep-shearing.

AUTOLYCUS	Prosper you, sweet sir!

	[Exit Clown]

	Your purse is not hot enough to purchase your spice.
	I'll be with you at your sheep-shearing too: if I
	make not this cheat bring out another and the
	shearers prove sheep, let me be unrolled and my name
	put in the book of virtue!

	[Sings]

	Jog on, jog on, the foot-path way,
	And merrily hent the stile-a:
	A merry heart goes all the day,
	Your sad tires in a mile-a.

	[Exit]




	THE WINTER'S TALE


ACT IV



SCENE IV	The Shepherd's cottage.


	[Enter FLORIZEL and PERDITA]

FLORIZEL	These your unusual weeds to each part of you
	Do give a life: no shepherdess, but Flora
	Peering in April's front. This your sheep-shearing
	Is as a meeting of the petty gods,
	And you the queen on't.

PERDITA	Sir, my gracious lord,
	To chide at your extremes it not becomes me:
	O, pardon, that I name them! Your high self,
	The gracious mark o' the land, you have obscured
	With a swain's wearing, and me, poor lowly maid,
	Most goddess-like prank'd up: but that our feasts
	In every mess have folly and the feeders
	Digest it with a custom, I should blush
	To see you so attired, sworn, I think,
	To show myself a glass.

FLORIZEL	I bless the time
	When my good falcon made her flight across
	Thy father's ground.

PERDITA	Now Jove afford you cause!
	To me the difference forges dread; your greatness
	Hath not been used to fear. Even now I tremble
	To think your father, by some accident,
	Should pass this way as you did: O, the Fates!
	How would he look, to see his work so noble
	Vilely bound up? What would he say? Or how
	Should I, in these my borrow'd flaunts, behold
	The sternness of his presence?

FLORIZEL	Apprehend
	Nothing but jollity. The gods themselves,
	Humbling their deities to love, have taken
	The shapes of beasts upon them: Jupiter
	Became a bull, and bellow'd; the green Neptune
	A ram, and bleated; and the fire-robed god,
	Golden Apollo, a poor humble swain,
	As I seem now. Their transformations
	Were never for a piece of beauty rarer,
	Nor in a way so chaste, since my desires
	Run not before mine honour, nor my lusts
	Burn hotter than my faith.

PERDITA	O, but, sir,
	Your resolution cannot hold, when 'tis
	Opposed, as it must be, by the power of the king:
	One of these two must be necessities,
	Which then will speak, that you must
	change this purpose,
	Or I my life.

FLORIZEL	                  Thou dearest Perdita,
	With these forced thoughts, I prithee, darken not
	The mirth o' the feast. Or I'll be thine, my fair,
	Or not my father's. For I cannot be
	Mine own, nor any thing to any, if
	I be not thine. To this I am most constant,
	Though destiny say no. Be merry, gentle;
	Strangle such thoughts as these with any thing
	That you behold the while. Your guests are coming:
	Lift up your countenance, as it were the day
	Of celebration of that nuptial which
	We two have sworn shall come.

PERDITA	O lady Fortune,
	Stand you auspicious!

FLORIZEL	See, your guests approach:
	Address yourself to entertain them sprightly,
	And let's be red with mirth.

	[Enter Shepherd, Clown, MOPSA, DORCAS, and
	others, with POLIXENES and CAMILLO disguised]

Shepherd	Fie, daughter! when my old wife lived, upon
	This day she was both pantler, butler, cook,
	Both dame and servant; welcomed all, served all;
	Would sing her song and dance her turn; now here,
	At upper end o' the table, now i' the middle;
	On his shoulder, and his; her face o' fire
	With labour and the thing she took to quench it,
	She would to each one sip. You are retired,
	As if you were a feasted one and not
	The hostess of the meeting: pray you, bid
	These unknown friends to's welcome; for it is
	A way to make us better friends, more known.
	Come, quench your blushes and present yourself
	That which you are, mistress o' the feast: come on,
	And bid us welcome to your sheep-shearing,
	As your good flock shall prosper.

PERDITA	[To POLIXENES]                  Sir, welcome:
	It is my father's will I should take on me
	The hostess-ship o' the day.

	[To CAMILLO]

		       You're welcome, sir.
	Give me those flowers there, Dorcas. Reverend sirs,
	For you there's rosemary and rue; these keep
	Seeming and savour all the winter long:
	Grace and remembrance be to you both,
	And welcome to our shearing!

POLIXENES	Shepherdess,
	A fair one are you--well you fit our ages
	With flowers of winter.

PERDITA	Sir, the year growing ancient,
	Not yet on summer's death, nor on the birth
	Of trembling winter, the fairest
	flowers o' the season
	Are our carnations and streak'd gillyvors,
	Which some call nature's bastards: of that kind
	Our rustic garden's barren; and I care not
	To get slips of them.

POLIXENES	Wherefore, gentle maiden,
	Do you neglect them?

PERDITA	For I have heard it said
	There is an art which in their piedness shares
	With great creating nature.

POLIXENES	Say there be;
	Yet nature is made better by no mean
	But nature makes that mean: so, over that art
	Which you say adds to nature, is an art
	That nature makes. You see, sweet maid, we marry
	A gentler scion to the wildest stock,
	And make conceive a bark of baser kind
	By bud of nobler race: this is an art
	Which does mend nature, change it rather, but
	The art itself is nature.

PERDITA	So it is.

POLIXENES	Then make your garden rich in gillyvors,
	And do not call them bastards.

PERDITA	I'll not put
	The dibble in earth to set one slip of them;
	No more than were I painted I would wish
	This youth should say 'twere well and only therefore
	Desire to breed by me. Here's flowers for you;
	Hot lavender, mints, savoury, marjoram;
	The marigold, that goes to bed wi' the sun
	And with him rises weeping: these are flowers
	Of middle summer, and I think they are given
	To men of middle age. You're very welcome.

CAMILLO	I should leave grazing, were I of your flock,
	And only live by gazing.

PERDITA	Out, alas!
	You'd be so lean, that blasts of January
	Would blow you through and through.
	Now, my fair'st friend,
	I would I had some flowers o' the spring that might
	Become your time of day; and yours, and yours,
	That wear upon your virgin branches yet
	Your maidenheads growing: O Proserpina,
	For the flowers now, that frighted thou let'st fall
	From Dis's waggon! daffodils,
	That come before the swallow dares, and take
	The winds of March with beauty; violets dim,
	But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes
	Or Cytherea's breath; pale primroses
	That die unmarried, ere they can behold
	Bight Phoebus in his strength--a malady
	Most incident to maids; bold oxlips and
	The crown imperial; lilies of all kinds,
	The flower-de-luce being one! O, these I lack,
	To make you garlands of, and my sweet friend,
	To strew him o'er and o'er!

FLORIZEL	What, like a corse?

PERDITA	No, like a bank for love to lie and play on;
	Not like a corse; or if, not to be buried,
	But quick and in mine arms. Come, take your flowers:
	Methinks I play as I have seen them do
	In Whitsun pastorals: sure this robe of mine
	Does change my disposition.

FLORIZEL	What you do
	Still betters what is done. When you speak, sweet.
	I'ld have you do it ever: when you sing,
	I'ld have you buy and sell so, so give alms,
	Pray so; and, for the ordering your affairs,
	To sing them too: when you do dance, I wish you
	A wave o' the sea, that you might ever do
	Nothing but that; move still, still so,
	And own no other function: each your doing,
	So singular in each particular,
	Crowns what you are doing in the present deed,
	That all your acts are queens.

PERDITA	O Doricles,
	Your praises are too large: but that your youth,
	And the true blood which peepeth fairly through't,
	Do plainly give you out an unstain'd shepherd,
	With wisdom I might fear, my Doricles,
	You woo'd me the false way.

FLORIZEL	I think you have
	As little skill to fear as I have purpose
	To put you to't. But come; our dance, I pray:
	Your hand, my Perdita: so turtles pair,
	That never mean to part.

PERDITA	I'll swear for 'em.

POLIXENES	This is the prettiest low-born lass that ever
	Ran on the green-sward: nothing she does or seems
	But smacks of something greater than herself,
	Too noble for this place.

CAMILLO	He tells her something
	That makes her blood look out: good sooth, she is
	The queen of curds and cream.

Clown	Come on, strike up!

DORCAS	Mopsa must be your mistress: marry, garlic,
	To mend her kissing with!

MOPSA	Now, in good time!

Clown	Not a word, a word; we stand upon our manners.
	Come, strike up!

	[Music. Here a dance of Shepherds and
	Shepherdesses]

POLIXENES	Pray, good shepherd, what fair swain is this
	Which dances with your daughter?

Shepherd	They call him Doricles; and boasts himself
	To have a worthy feeding: but I have it
	Upon his own report and I believe it;
	He looks like sooth. He says he loves my daughter:
	I think so too; for never gazed the moon
	Upon the water as he'll stand and read
	As 'twere my daughter's eyes: and, to be plain.
	I think there is not half a kiss to choose
	Who loves another best.

POLIXENES	She dances featly.

Shepherd	So she does any thing; though I report it,
	That should be silent: if young Doricles
	Do light upon her, she shall bring him that
	Which he not dreams of.

	[Enter Servant]

Servant	O master, if you did but hear the pedlar at the
	door, you would never dance again after a tabour and
	pipe; no, the bagpipe could not move you: he sings
	several tunes faster than you'll tell money; he
	utters them as he had eaten ballads and all men's
	ears grew to his tunes.

Clown	He could never come better; he shall come in. I
	love a ballad but even too well, if it be doleful
	matter merrily set down, or a very pleasant thing
	indeed and sung lamentably.

Servant	He hath songs for man or woman, of all sizes; no
	milliner can so fit his customers with gloves: he
	has the prettiest love-songs for maids; so without
	bawdry, which is strange; with such delicate
	burthens of dildos and fadings, 'jump her and thump
	her;' and where some stretch-mouthed rascal would,
	as it were, mean mischief and break a foul gap into
	the matter, he makes the maid to answer 'Whoop, do me
	no harm, good man;' puts him off, slights him, with
	'Whoop, do me no harm, good man.'

POLIXENES	This is a brave fellow.

Clown	Believe me, thou talkest of an admirable conceited
	fellow. Has he any unbraided wares?

Servant	He hath ribbons of an the colours i' the rainbow;
	points more than all the lawyers in Bohemia can
	learnedly handle, though they come to him by the
	gross: inkles, caddisses, cambrics, lawns: why, he
	sings 'em over as they were gods or goddesses; you
	would think a smock were a she-angel, he so chants
	to the sleeve-hand and the work about the square on't.

Clown	Prithee bring him in; and let him approach singing.

PERDITA	Forewarn him that he use no scurrilous words in 's tunes.

	[Exit Servant]

Clown	You have of these pedlars, that have more in them
	than you'ld think, sister.

PERDITA	Ay, good brother, or go about to think.

	[Enter AUTOLYCUS, singing]

AUTOLYCUS	     Lawn as white as driven snow;
	Cyprus black as e'er was crow;
	Gloves as sweet as damask roses;
	Masks for faces and for noses;
	Bugle bracelet, necklace amber,
	Perfume for a lady's chamber;
	Golden quoifs and stomachers,
	For my lads to give their dears:
	Pins and poking-sticks of steel,
	What maids lack from head to heel:
	Come buy of me, come; come buy, come buy;
	Buy lads, or else your lasses cry: Come buy.

Clown	If I were not in love with Mopsa, thou shouldst take
	no money of me; but being enthralled as I am, it
	will also be the bondage of certain ribbons and gloves.

MOPSA	I was promised them against the feast; but they come
	not too late now.

DORCAS	He hath promised you more than that, or there be liars.

MOPSA	He hath paid you all he promised you; may be, he has
	paid you more, which will shame you to give him again.

Clown	Is there no manners left among maids? will they
	wear their plackets where they should bear their
	faces? Is there not milking-time, when you are
	going to bed, or kiln-hole, to whistle off these
	secrets, but you must be tittle-tattling before all
	our guests? 'tis well they are whispering: clamour
	your tongues, and not a word more.

MOPSA	I have done. Come, you promised me a tawdry-lace
	and a pair of sweet gloves.

Clown	Have I not told thee how I was cozened by the way
	and lost all my money?

AUTOLYCUS	And indeed, sir, there are cozeners abroad;
	therefore it behoves men to be wary.

Clown	Fear not thou, man, thou shalt lose nothing here.

AUTOLYCUS	I hope so, sir; for I have about me many parcels of charge.

Clown	What hast here? ballads?

MOPSA	Pray now, buy some: I love a ballad in print o'
	life, for then we are sure they are true.

AUTOLYCUS	Here's one to a very doleful tune, how a usurer's
	wife was brought to bed of twenty money-bags at a
	burthen and how she longed to eat adders' heads and
	toads carbonadoed.

MOPSA	Is it true, think you?

AUTOLYCUS	Very true, and but a month old.

DORCAS	Bless me from marrying a usurer!

AUTOLYCUS	Here's the midwife's name to't, one Mistress
	Tale-porter, and five or six honest wives that were
	present. Why should I carry lies abroad?

MOPSA	Pray you now, buy it.

Clown	Come on, lay it by: and let's first see moe
	ballads; we'll buy the other things anon.

AUTOLYCUS	Here's another ballad of a fish, that appeared upon
	the coast on Wednesday the four-score of April,
	forty thousand fathom above water, and sung this
	ballad against the hard hearts of maids: it was
	thought she was a woman and was turned into a cold
	fish for she would not exchange flesh with one that
	loved her: the ballad is very pitiful and as true.

DORCAS	Is it true too, think you?

AUTOLYCUS	Five justices' hands at it, and witnesses more than
	my pack will hold.

Clown	Lay it by too: another.

AUTOLYCUS	This is a merry ballad, but a very pretty one.

MOPSA	Let's have some merry ones.

AUTOLYCUS	Why, this is a passing merry one and goes to
	the tune of 'Two maids wooing a man:' there's
	scarce a maid westward but she sings it; 'tis in
	request, I can tell you.

MOPSA	We can both sing it: if thou'lt bear a part, thou
	shalt hear; 'tis in three parts.

DORCAS	We had the tune on't a month ago.

AUTOLYCUS	I can bear my part; you must know 'tis my
	occupation; have at it with you.
	[SONG]

AUTOLYCUS	Get you hence, for I must go
	Where it fits not you to know.

DORCAS	     Whither?

MOPSA	                  O, whither?

DORCAS	Whither?

MOPSA	     It becomes thy oath full well,
	Thou to me thy secrets tell.

DORCAS	          Me too, let me go thither.

MOPSA	     Or thou goest to the orange or mill.

DORCAS	     If to either, thou dost ill.

AUTOLYCUS	Neither.

DORCAS	       What, neither?

AUTOLYCUS	Neither.

DORCAS	     Thou hast sworn my love to be.

MOPSA	     Thou hast sworn it more to me:
	Then whither goest? say, whither?

Clown	We'll have this song out anon by ourselves: my
	father and the gentlemen are in sad talk, and we'll
	not trouble them. Come, bring away thy pack after
	me. Wenches, I'll buy for you both. Pedlar, let's
	have the first choice. Follow me, girls.

	[Exit with DORCAS and MOPSA]

AUTOLYCUS	And you shall pay well for 'em.

	[Follows singing]

	Will you buy any tape,
	Or lace for your cape,
	My dainty duck, my dear-a?
	Any silk, any thread,
	Any toys for your head,
	Of the new'st and finest, finest wear-a?
	Come to the pedlar;
	Money's a medler.
	That doth utter all men's ware-a.

	[Exit]

	[Re-enter Servant]

Servant	Master, there is three carters, three shepherds,
	three neat-herds, three swine-herds, that have made
	themselves all men of hair, they call themselves
	Saltiers, and they have a dance which the wenches
	say is a gallimaufry of gambols, because they are
	not in't; but they themselves are o' the mind, if it
	be not too rough for some that know little but
	bowling, it will please plentifully.

Shepherd	Away! we'll none on 't: here has been too much
	homely foolery already. I know, sir, we weary you.

POLIXENES	You weary those that refresh us: pray, let's see
	these four threes of herdsmen.

Servant	One three of them, by their own report, sir, hath
	danced before the king; and not the worst of the
	three but jumps twelve foot and a half by the squier.

Shepherd	Leave your prating: since these good men are
	pleased, let them come in; but quickly now.

Servant	Why, they stay at door, sir.

	[Exit]

	[Here a dance of twelve Satyrs]

POLIXENES	O, father, you'll know more of that hereafter.

	[To CAMILLO]

	Is it not too far gone? 'Tis time to part them.
	He's simple and tells much.

	[To FLORIZEL]

		      How now, fair shepherd!
	Your heart is full of something that does take
	Your mind from feasting. Sooth, when I was young
	And handed love as you do, I was wont
	To load my she with knacks: I would have ransack'd
	The pedlar's silken treasury and have pour'd it
	To her acceptance; you have let him go
	And nothing marted with him. If your lass
	Interpretation should abuse and call this
	Your lack of love or bounty, you were straited
	For a reply, at least if you make a care
	Of happy holding her.

FLORIZEL	Old sir, I know
	She prizes not such trifles as these are:
	The gifts she looks from me are pack'd and lock'd
	Up in my heart; which I have given already,
	But not deliver'd. O, hear me breathe my life
	Before this ancient sir, who, it should seem,
	Hath sometime loved! I take thy hand, this hand,
	As soft as dove's down and as white as it,
	Or Ethiopian's tooth, or the fann'd
	snow that's bolted
	By the northern blasts twice o'er.

POLIXENES	What follows this?
	How prettily the young swain seems to wash
	The hand was fair before! I have put you out:
	But to your protestation; let me hear
	What you profess.

FLORIZEL	                  Do, and be witness to 't.

POLIXENES	And this my neighbour too?

FLORIZEL	And he, and more
	Than he, and men, the earth, the heavens, and all:
	That, were I crown'd the most imperial monarch,
	Thereof most worthy, were I the fairest youth
	That ever made eye swerve, had force and knowledge
	More than was ever man's, I would not prize them
	Without her love; for her employ them all;
	Commend them and condemn them to her service
	Or to their own perdition.

POLIXENES	Fairly offer'd.

CAMILLO	This shows a sound affection.

Shepherd	But, my daughter,
	Say you the like to him?

PERDITA	I cannot speak
	So well, nothing so well; no, nor mean better:
	By the pattern of mine own thoughts I cut out
	The purity of his.

Shepherd	                  Take hands, a bargain!
	And, friends unknown, you shall bear witness to 't:
	I give my daughter to him, and will make
	Her portion equal his.

FLORIZEL	O, that must be
	I' the virtue of your daughter: one being dead,
	I shall have more than you can dream of yet;
	Enough then for your wonder. But, come on,
	Contract us 'fore these witnesses.

Shepherd	Come, your hand;
	And, daughter, yours.

POLIXENES	Soft, swain, awhile, beseech you;
	Have you a father?

FLORIZEL	                  I have: but what of him?

POLIXENES	Knows he of this?

FLORIZEL	                  He neither does nor shall.

POLIXENES	Methinks a father
	Is at the nuptial of his son a guest
	That best becomes the table. Pray you once more,
	Is not your father grown incapable
	Of reasonable affairs? is he not stupid
	With age and altering rheums? can he speak? hear?
	Know man from man? dispute his own estate?
	Lies he not bed-rid? and again does nothing
	But what he did being childish?

FLORIZEL	No, good sir;
	He has his health and ampler strength indeed
	Than most have of his age.

POLIXENES	By my white beard,
	You offer him, if this be so, a wrong
	Something unfilial: reason my son
	Should choose himself a wife, but as good reason
	The father, all whose joy is nothing else
	But fair posterity, should hold some counsel
	In such a business.

FLORIZEL	I yield all this;
	But for some other reasons, my grave sir,
	Which 'tis not fit you know, I not acquaint
	My father of this business.

POLIXENES	Let him know't.

FLORIZEL	He shall not.

POLIXENES	                  Prithee, let him.

FLORIZEL	No, he must not.

Shepherd	Let him, my son: he shall not need to grieve
	At knowing of thy choice.

FLORIZEL	Come, come, he must not.
	Mark our contract.

POLIXENES	                  Mark your divorce, young sir,

	[Discovering himself]

	Whom son I dare not call; thou art too base
	To be acknowledged: thou a sceptre's heir,
	That thus affect'st a sheep-hook! Thou old traitor,
	I am sorry that by hanging thee I can
	But shorten thy life one week. And thou, fresh piece
	Of excellent witchcraft, who of force must know
	The royal fool thou copest with,--

Shepherd	O, my heart!

POLIXENES	I'll have thy beauty scratch'd with briers, and made
	More homely than thy state. For thee, fond boy,
	If I may ever know thou dost but sigh
	That thou no more shalt see this knack, as never
	I mean thou shalt, we'll bar thee from succession;
	Not hold thee of our blood, no, not our kin,
	Far than Deucalion off: mark thou my words:
	Follow us to the court. Thou churl, for this time,
	Though full of our displeasure, yet we free thee
	From the dead blow of it. And you, enchantment.--
	Worthy enough a herdsman: yea, him too,
	That makes himself, but for our honour therein,
	Unworthy thee,--if ever henceforth thou
	These rural latches to his entrance open,
	Or hoop his body more with thy embraces,
	I will devise a death as cruel for thee
	As thou art tender to't.

	[Exit]

PERDITA	Even here undone!
	I was not much afeard; for once or twice
	I was about to speak and tell him plainly,
	The selfsame sun that shines upon his court
	Hides not his visage from our cottage but
	Looks on alike. Will't please you, sir, be gone?
	I told you what would come of this: beseech you,
	Of your own state take care: this dream of mine,--
	Being now awake, I'll queen it no inch farther,
	But milk my ewes and weep.

CAMILLO	Why, how now, father!
	Speak ere thou diest.

Shepherd	I cannot speak, nor think
	Nor dare to know that which I know. O sir!
	You have undone a man of fourscore three,
	That thought to fill his grave in quiet, yea,
	To die upon the bed my father died,
	To lie close by his honest bones: but now
	Some hangman must put on my shroud and lay me
	Where no priest shovels in dust. O cursed wretch,
	That knew'st this was the prince,
	and wouldst adventure
	To mingle faith with him! Undone! undone!
	If I might die within this hour, I have lived
	To die when I desire.

	[Exit]

FLORIZEL	Why look you so upon me?
	I am but sorry, not afeard; delay'd,
	But nothing alter'd: what I was, I am;
	More straining on for plucking back, not following
	My leash unwillingly.

CAMILLO	Gracious my lord,
	You know your father's temper: at this time
	He will allow no speech, which I do guess
	You do not purpose to him; and as hardly
	Will he endure your sight as yet, I fear:
	Then, till the fury of his highness settle,
	Come not before him.

FLORIZEL	I not purpose it.
	I think, Camillo?

CAMILLO	                  Even he, my lord.

PERDITA	How often have I told you 'twould be thus!
	How often said, my dignity would last
	But till 'twere known!

FLORIZEL	It cannot fail but by
	The violation of my faith; and then
	Let nature crush the sides o' the earth together
	And mar the seeds within! Lift up thy looks:
	From my succession wipe me, father; I
	Am heir to my affection.

CAMILLO	Be advised.

FLORIZEL	I am, and by my fancy: if my reason
	Will thereto be obedient, I have reason;
	If not, my senses, better pleased with madness,
	Do bid it welcome.

CAMILLO	                  This is desperate, sir.

FLORIZEL	So call it: but it does fulfil my vow;
	I needs must think it honesty. Camillo,
	Not for Bohemia, nor the pomp that may
	Be thereat glean'd, for all the sun sees or
	The close earth wombs or the profound sea hides
	In unknown fathoms, will I break my oath
	To this my fair beloved: therefore, I pray you,
	As you have ever been my father's honour'd friend,
	When he shall miss me,--as, in faith, I mean not
	To see him any more,--cast your good counsels
	Upon his passion; let myself and fortune
	Tug for the time to come. This you may know
	And so deliver, I am put to sea
	With her whom here I cannot hold on shore;
	And most opportune to our need I have
	A vessel rides fast by, but not prepared
	For this design. What course I mean to hold
	Shall nothing benefit your knowledge, nor
	Concern me the reporting.

CAMILLO	O my lord!
	I would your spirit were easier for advice,
	Or stronger for your need.

FLORIZEL	Hark, Perdita

	[Drawing her aside]

	I'll hear you by and by.

CAMILLO	He's irremoveable,
	Resolved for flight. Now were I happy, if
	His going I could frame to serve my turn,
	Save him from danger, do him love and honour,
	Purchase the sight again of dear Sicilia
	And that unhappy king, my master, whom
	I so much thirst to see.

FLORIZEL	Now, good Camillo;
	I am so fraught with curious business that
	I leave out ceremony.

CAMILLO	Sir, I think
	You have heard of my poor services, i' the love
	That I have borne your father?

FLORIZEL	Very nobly
	Have you deserved: it is my father's music
	To speak your deeds, not little of his care
	To have them recompensed as thought on.

CAMILLO	Well, my lord,
	If you may please to think I love the king
	And through him what is nearest to him, which is
	Your gracious self, embrace but my direction:
	If your more ponderous and settled project
	May suffer alteration, on mine honour,
	I'll point you where you shall have such receiving
	As shall become your highness; where you may
	Enjoy your mistress, from the whom, I see,
	There's no disjunction to be made, but by--
	As heavens forefend!--your ruin; marry her,
	And, with my best endeavours in your absence,
	Your discontenting father strive to qualify
	And bring him up to liking.

FLORIZEL	How, Camillo,
	May this, almost a miracle, be done?
	That I may call thee something more than man
	And after that trust to thee.

CAMILLO	Have you thought on
	A place whereto you'll go?

FLORIZEL	Not any yet:
	But as the unthought-on accident is guilty
	To what we wildly do, so we profess
	Ourselves to be the slaves of chance and flies
	Of every wind that blows.

CAMILLO	Then list to me:
	This follows, if you will not change your purpose
	But undergo this flight, make for Sicilia,
	And there present yourself and your fair princess,
	For so I see she must be, 'fore Leontes:
	She shall be habited as it becomes
	The partner of your bed. Methinks I see
	Leontes opening his free arms and weeping
	His welcomes forth; asks thee the son forgiveness,
	As 'twere i' the father's person; kisses the hands
	Of your fresh princess; o'er and o'er divides him
	'Twixt his unkindness and his kindness; the one
	He chides to hell and bids the other grow
	Faster than thought or time.

FLORIZEL	Worthy Camillo,
	What colour for my visitation shall I
	Hold up before him?

CAMILLO	Sent by the king your father
	To greet him and to give him comforts. Sir,
	The manner of your bearing towards him, with
	What you as from your father shall deliver,
	Things known betwixt us three, I'll write you down:
	The which shall point you forth at every sitting
	What you must say; that he shall not perceive
	But that you have your father's bosom there
	And speak his very heart.

FLORIZEL	I am bound to you:
	There is some sap in this.

CAMILLO	A cause more promising
	Than a wild dedication of yourselves
	To unpath'd waters, undream'd shores, most certain
	To miseries enough; no hope to help you,
	But as you shake off one to take another;
	Nothing so certain as your anchors, who
	Do their best office, if they can but stay you
	Where you'll be loath to be: besides you know
	Prosperity's the very bond of love,
	Whose fresh complexion and whose heart together
	Affliction alters.

PERDITA	                  One of these is true:
	I think affliction may subdue the cheek,
	But not take in the mind.

CAMILLO	Yea, say you so?
	There shall not at your father's house these
	seven years
	Be born another such.

FLORIZEL	My good Camillo,
	She is as forward of her breeding as
	She is i' the rear our birth.

CAMILLO	I cannot say 'tis pity
	She lacks instructions, for she seems a mistress
	To most that teach.

PERDITA	Your pardon, sir; for this
	I'll blush you thanks.

FLORIZEL	My prettiest Perdita!
	But O, the thorns we stand upon! Camillo,
	Preserver of my father, now of me,
	The medicine of our house, how shall we do?
	We are not furnish'd like Bohemia's son,
	Nor shall appear in Sicilia.

CAMILLO	My lord,
	Fear none of this: I think you know my fortunes
	Do all lie there: it shall be so my care
	To have you royally appointed as if
	The scene you play were mine. For instance, sir,
	That you may know you shall not want, one word.

	[They talk aside]

	[Re-enter AUTOLYCUS]

AUTOLYCUS	Ha, ha! what a fool Honesty is! and Trust, his
	sworn brother, a very simple gentleman! I have sold
	all my trumpery; not a counterfeit stone, not a
	ribbon, glass, pomander, brooch, table-book, ballad,
	knife, tape, glove, shoe-tie, bracelet, horn-ring,
	to keep my pack from fasting: they throng who
	should buy first, as if my trinkets had been
	hallowed and brought a benediction to the buyer:
	by which means I saw whose purse was best in
	picture; and what I saw, to my good use I
	remembered. My clown, who wants but something to
	be a reasonable man, grew so in love with the
	wenches' song, that he would not stir his pettitoes
	till he had both tune and words; which so drew the
	rest of the herd to me that all their other senses
	stuck in ears: you might have pinched a placket, it
	was senseless; 'twas nothing to geld a codpiece of a
	purse; I could have filed keys off that hung in
	chains: no hearing, no feeling, but my sir's song,
	and admiring the nothing of it. So that in this
	time of lethargy I picked and cut most of their
	festival purses; and had not the old man come in
	with a whoo-bub against his daughter and the king's
	son and scared my choughs from the chaff, I had not
	left a purse alive in the whole army.

	[CAMILLO, FLORIZEL, and PERDITA come forward]

CAMILLO	Nay, but my letters, by this means being there
	So soon as you arrive, shall clear that doubt.

FLORIZEL	And those that you'll procure from King Leontes--

CAMILLO	Shall satisfy your father.

PERDITA	Happy be you!
	All that you speak shows fair.

CAMILLO	Who have we here?

	[Seeing AUTOLYCUS]

	We'll make an instrument of this, omit
	Nothing may give us aid.

AUTOLYCUS	If they have overheard me now, why, hanging.

CAMILLO	How now, good fellow! why shakest thou so? Fear
	not, man; here's no harm intended to thee.

AUTOLYCUS	I am a poor fellow, sir.

CAMILLO	Why, be so still; here's nobody will steal that from
	thee: yet for the outside of thy poverty we must
	make an exchange; therefore discase thee instantly,
	--thou must think there's a necessity in't,--and
	change garments with this gentleman: though the
	pennyworth on his side be the worst, yet hold thee,
	there's some boot.

AUTOLYCUS	I am a poor fellow, sir.

	[Aside]

		   I know ye well enough.

CAMILLO	Nay, prithee, dispatch: the gentleman is half
	flayed already.

AUTOLYCUS	Are you in earnest, sir?

	[Aside]

		   I smell the trick on't.

FLORIZEL	Dispatch, I prithee.

AUTOLYCUS	Indeed, I have had earnest: but I cannot with
	conscience take it.

CAMILLO	Unbuckle, unbuckle.

	[FLORIZEL and AUTOLYCUS exchange garments]

	Fortunate mistress,--let my prophecy
	Come home to ye!--you must retire yourself
	Into some covert: take your sweetheart's hat
	And pluck it o'er your brows, muffle your face,
	Dismantle you, and, as you can, disliken
	The truth of your own seeming; that you may--
	For I do fear eyes over--to shipboard
	Get undescried.

PERDITA	                  I see the play so lies
	That I must bear a part.

CAMILLO	No remedy.
	Have you done there?

FLORIZEL	Should I now meet my father,
	He would not call me son.

CAMILLO	Nay, you shall have no hat.

	[Giving it to PERDITA]

	Come, lady, come. Farewell, my friend.

AUTOLYCUS	Adieu, sir.

FLORIZEL	O Perdita, what have we twain forgot!
	Pray you, a word.

CAMILLO	[Aside]  What I do next, shall be to tell the king
	Of this escape and whither they are bound;
	Wherein my hope is I shall so prevail
	To force him after: in whose company
	I shall review Sicilia, for whose sight
	I have a woman's longing.

FLORIZEL	Fortune speed us!
	Thus we set on, Camillo, to the sea-side.

CAMILLO	The swifter speed the better.

	[Exeunt FLORIZEL, PERDITA, and CAMILLO]

AUTOLYCUS	I understand the business, I hear it: to have an
	open ear, a quick eye, and a nimble hand, is
	necessary for a cut-purse; a good nose is requisite
	also, to smell out work for the other senses. I see
	this is the time that the unjust man doth thrive.
	What an exchange had this been without boot! What
	a boot is here with this exchange! Sure the gods do
	this year connive at us, and we may do any thing
	extempore. The prince himself is about a piece of
	iniquity, stealing away from his father with his
	clog at his heels: if I thought it were a piece of
	honesty to acquaint the king withal, I would not
	do't: I hold it the more knavery to conceal it;
	and therein am I constant to my profession.

	[Re-enter Clown and Shepherd]

	Aside, aside; here is more matter for a hot brain:
	every lane's end, every shop, church, session,
	hanging, yields a careful man work.

Clown	See, see; what a man you are now!
	There is no other way but to tell the king
	she's a changeling and none of your flesh and blood.

Shepherd	Nay, but hear me.

Clown	Nay, but hear me.

Shepherd	Go to, then.

Clown	She being none of your flesh and blood, your flesh
	and blood has not offended the king; and so your
	flesh and blood is not to be punished by him. Show
	those things you found about her, those secret
	things, all but what she has with her: this being
	done, let the law go whistle: I warrant you.

Shepherd	I will tell the king all, every word, yea, and his
	son's pranks too; who, I may say, is no honest man,
	neither to his father nor to me, to go about to make
	me the king's brother-in-law.

Clown	Indeed, brother-in-law was the farthest off you
	could have been to him and then your blood had been
	the dearer by I know how much an ounce.

AUTOLYCUS	[Aside]  Very wisely, puppies!

Shepherd	Well, let us to the king: there is that in this
	fardel will make him scratch his beard.

AUTOLYCUS	[Aside]  I know not what impediment this complaint
	may be to the flight of my master.

Clown	Pray heartily he be at palace.

AUTOLYCUS	[Aside]  Though I am not naturally honest, I am so
	sometimes by chance: let me pocket up my pedlar's excrement.

	[Takes off his false beard]

	How now, rustics! whither are you bound?

Shepherd	To the palace, an it like your worship.

AUTOLYCUS	Your affairs there, what, with whom, the condition
	of that fardel, the place of your dwelling, your
	names, your ages, of what having, breeding, and any
	thing that is fitting to be known, discover.

Clown	We are but plain fellows, sir.

AUTOLYCUS	A lie; you are rough and hairy. Let me have no
	lying: it becomes none but tradesmen, and they
	often give us soldiers the lie: but we pay them for
	it with stamped coin, not stabbing steel; therefore
	they do not give us the lie.

Clown	Your worship had like to have given us one, if you
	had not taken yourself with the manner.

Shepherd	Are you a courtier, an't like you, sir?

AUTOLYCUS	Whether it like me or no, I am a courtier. Seest
	thou not the air of the court in these enfoldings?
	hath not my gait in it the measure of the court?
	receives not thy nose court-odor from me? reflect I
	not on thy baseness court-contempt? Thinkest thou,
	for that I insinuate, or toaze from thee thy
	business, I am therefore no courtier? I am courtier
	cap-a-pe; and one that will either push on or pluck
	back thy business there: whereupon I command thee to
	open thy affair.

Shepherd	My business, sir, is to the king.

AUTOLYCUS	What advocate hast thou to him?

Shepherd	I know not, an't like you.

Clown	Advocate's the court-word for a pheasant: say you
	have none.

Shepherd	None, sir; I have no pheasant, cock nor hen.

AUTOLYCUS	How blessed are we that are not simple men!
	Yet nature might have made me as these are,
	Therefore I will not disdain.

Clown	This cannot be but a great courtier.

Shepherd	His garments are rich, but he wears
	them not handsomely.

Clown	He seems to be the more noble in being fantastical:
	a great man, I'll warrant; I know by the picking
	on's teeth.

AUTOLYCUS	The fardel there? what's i' the fardel?
	Wherefore that box?

Shepherd	Sir, there lies such secrets in this fardel and box,
	which none must know but the king; and which he
	shall know within this hour, if I may come to the
	speech of him.

AUTOLYCUS	Age, thou hast lost thy labour.

Shepherd	Why, sir?

AUTOLYCUS	The king is not at the palace; he is gone aboard a
	new ship to purge melancholy and air himself: for,
	if thou beest capable of things serious, thou must
	know the king is full of grief.

Shepard	So 'tis said, sir; about his son, that should have
	married a shepherd's daughter.

AUTOLYCUS	If that shepherd be not in hand-fast, let him fly:
	the curses he shall have, the tortures he shall
	feel, will break the back of man, the heart of monster.

Clown	Think you so, sir?

AUTOLYCUS	Not he alone shall suffer what wit can make heavy
	and vengeance bitter; but those that are germane to
	him, though removed fifty times, shall all come
	under the hangman: which though it be great pity,
	yet it is necessary. An old sheep-whistling rogue a
	ram-tender, to offer to have his daughter come into
	grace! Some say he shall be stoned; but that death
	is too soft for him, say I	draw our throne into a
	sheep-cote! all deaths are too few, the sharpest too easy.

Clown	Has the old man e'er a son, sir, do you hear. an't
	like you, sir?

AUTOLYCUS	He has a son, who shall be flayed alive; then
	'nointed over with honey, set on the head of a
	wasp's nest; then stand till he be three quarters
	and a dram dead; then recovered again with
	aqua-vitae or some other hot infusion; then, raw as
	he is, and in the hottest day prognostication
	proclaims, shall be be set against a brick-wall, the
	sun looking with a southward eye upon him, where he
	is to behold him with flies blown to death. But what
	talk we of these traitorly rascals, whose miseries
	are to be smiled at, their offences being so
	capital? Tell me, for you seem to be honest plain
	men, what you have to the king: being something
	gently considered, I'll bring you where he is
	aboard, tender your persons to his presence,
	whisper him in your behalfs; and if it be in man
	besides the king to effect your suits, here is man
	shall do it.

Clown	He seems to be of great authority: close with him,
	give him gold; and though authority be a stubborn
	bear, yet he is oft led by the nose with gold: show
	the inside of your purse to the outside of his hand,
	and no more ado. Remember 'stoned,' and 'flayed alive.'

Shepherd	An't please you, sir, to undertake the business for
	us, here is that gold I have: I'll make it as much
	more and leave this young man in pawn till I bring it you.

AUTOLYCUS	After I have done what I promised?

Shepherd	Ay, sir.

AUTOLYCUS	Well, give me the moiety. Are you a party in this business?

Clown	In some sort, sir: but though my case be a pitiful
	one, I hope I shall not be flayed out of it.

AUTOLYCUS	O, that's the case of the shepherd's son: hang him,
	he'll be made an example.

Clown	Comfort, good comfort! We must to the king and show
	our strange sights: he must know 'tis none of your
	daughter nor my sister; we are gone else. Sir, I
	will give you as much as this old man does when the
	business is performed, and remain, as he says, your
	pawn till it be brought you.

AUTOLYCUS	I will trust you. Walk before toward the sea-side;
	go on the right hand: I will but look upon the
	hedge and follow you.

Clown	We are blest in this man, as I may say, even blest.

Shepherd	Let's before as he bids us: he was provided to do us good.

	[Exeunt Shepherd and Clown]

AUTOLYCUS	If I had a mind to be honest, I see Fortune would
	not suffer me: she drops booties in my mouth. I am
	courted now with a double occasion, gold and a means
	to do the prince my master good; which who knows how
	that may turn back to my advancement? I will bring
	these two moles, these blind ones, aboard him: if he
	think it fit to shore them again and that the
	complaint they have to the king concerns him
	nothing, let him call me rogue for being so far
	officious; for I am proof against that title and
	what shame else belongs to't. To him will I present
	them: there may be matter in it.

	[Exit]




	THE WINTER'S TALE


ACT V



SCENE I	A room in LEONTES' palace.


	[Enter LEONTES, CLEOMENES, DION, PAULINA, and Servants]

CLEOMENES	Sir, you have done enough, and have perform'd
	A saint-like sorrow: no fault could you make,
	Which you have not redeem'd; indeed, paid down
	More penitence than done trespass: at the last,
	Do as the heavens have done, forget your evil;
	With them forgive yourself.

LEONTES	Whilst I remember
	Her and her virtues, I cannot forget
	My blemishes in them, and so still think of
	The wrong I did myself; which was so much,
	That heirless it hath made my kingdom and
	Destroy'd the sweet'st companion that e'er man
	Bred his hopes out of.

PAULINA	True, too true, my lord:
	If, one by one, you wedded all the world,
	Or from the all that are took something good,
	To make a perfect woman, she you kill'd
	Would be unparallel'd.

LEONTES	I think so. Kill'd!
	She I kill'd! I did so: but thou strikest me
	Sorely, to say I did; it is as bitter
	Upon thy tongue as in my thought: now, good now,
	Say so but seldom.

CLEOMENES	                  Not at all, good lady:
	You might have spoken a thousand things that would
	Have done the time more benefit and graced
	Your kindness better.

PAULINA	You are one of those
	Would have him wed again.

DION	If you would not so,
	You pity not the state, nor the remembrance
	Of his most sovereign name; consider little
	What dangers, by his highness' fail of issue,
	May drop upon his kingdom and devour
	Incertain lookers on. What were more holy
	Than to rejoice the former queen is well?
	What holier than, for royalty's repair,
	For present comfort and for future good,
	To bless the bed of majesty again
	With a sweet fellow to't?

PAULINA	There is none worthy,
	Respecting her that's gone. Besides, the gods
	Will have fulfill'd their secret purposes;
	For has not the divine Apollo said,
	Is't not the tenor of his oracle,
	That King Leontes shall not have an heir
	Till his lost child be found? which that it shall,
	Is all as monstrous to our human reason
	As my Antigonus to break his grave
	And come again to me; who, on my life,
	Did perish with the infant. 'Tis your counsel
	My lord should to the heavens be contrary,
	Oppose against their wills.

	[To LEONTES]

		      Care not for issue;
	The crown will find an heir: great Alexander
	Left his to the worthiest; so his successor
	Was like to be the best.

LEONTES	Good Paulina,
	Who hast the memory of Hermione,
	I know, in honour, O, that ever I
	Had squared me to thy counsel! then, even now,
	I might have look'd upon my queen's full eyes,
	Have taken treasure from her lips--

PAULINA	And left them
	More rich for what they yielded.

LEONTES	Thou speak'st truth.
	No more such wives; therefore, no wife: one worse,
	And better used, would make her sainted spirit
	Again possess her corpse, and on this stage,
	Where we're offenders now, appear soul-vex'd,
	And begin, 'Why to me?'

PAULINA	Had she such power,
	She had just cause.

LEONTES	She had; and would incense me
	To murder her I married.

PAULINA	I should so.
	Were I the ghost that walk'd, I'ld bid you mark
	Her eye, and tell me for what dull part in't
	You chose her; then I'ld shriek, that even your ears
	Should rift to hear me; and the words that follow'd
	Should be 'Remember mine.'

LEONTES	Stars, stars,
	And all eyes else dead coals! Fear thou no wife;
	I'll have no wife, Paulina.

PAULINA	Will you swear
	Never to marry but by my free leave?

LEONTES	Never, Paulina; so be blest my spirit!

PAULINA	Then, good my lords, bear witness to his oath.

CLEOMENES	You tempt him over-much.

PAULINA	Unless another,
	As like Hermione as is her picture,
	Affront his eye.

CLEOMENES	                  Good madam,--

PAULINA	I have done.
	Yet, if my lord will marry,--if you will, sir,
	No remedy, but you will,--give me the office
	To choose you a queen: she shall not be so young
	As was your former; but she shall be such
	As, walk'd your first queen's ghost,
	it should take joy
	To see her in your arms.

LEONTES	My true Paulina,
	We shall not marry till thou bid'st us.

PAULINA	That
	Shall be when your first queen's again in breath;
	Never till then.

	[Enter a Gentleman]

Gentleman	One that gives out himself Prince Florizel,
	Son of Polixenes, with his princess, she
	The fairest I have yet beheld, desires access
	To your high presence.

LEONTES	What with him? he comes not
	Like to his father's greatness: his approach,
	So out of circumstance and sudden, tells us
	'Tis not a visitation framed, but forced
	By need and accident. What train?

Gentleman	But few,
	And those but mean.

LEONTES	His princess, say you, with him?

Gentleman	Ay, the most peerless piece of earth, I think,
	That e'er the sun shone bright on.

PAULINA	O Hermione,
	As every present time doth boast itself
	Above a better gone, so must thy grave
	Give way to what's seen now! Sir, you yourself
	Have said and writ so, but your writing now
	Is colder than that theme, 'She had not been,
	Nor was not to be equall'd;'--thus your verse
	Flow'd with her beauty once: 'tis shrewdly ebb'd,
	To say you have seen a better.

Gentleman	Pardon, madam:
	The one I have almost forgot,--your pardon,--
	The other, when she has obtain'd your eye,
	Will have your tongue too. This is a creature,
	Would she begin a sect, might quench the zeal
	Of all professors else, make proselytes
	Of who she but bid follow.

PAULINA	How! not women?

Gentleman	Women will love her, that she is a woman
	More worth than any man; men, that she is
	The rarest of all women.

LEONTES	Go, Cleomenes;
	Yourself, assisted with your honour'd friends,
	Bring them to our embracement. Still, 'tis strange

	[Exeunt CLEOMENES and others]

	He thus should steal upon us.

PAULINA	Had our prince,
	Jewel of children, seen this hour, he had pair'd
	Well with this lord: there was not full a month
	Between their births.

LEONTES	Prithee, no more; cease; thou know'st
	He dies to me again when talk'd of: sure,
	When I shall see this gentleman, thy speeches
	Will bring me to consider that which may
	Unfurnish me of reason. They are come.

	[Re-enter CLEOMENES and others, with FLORIZEL and PERDITA]

	Your mother was most true to wedlock, prince;
	For she did print your royal father off,
	Conceiving you: were I but twenty-one,
	Your father's image is so hit in you,
	His very air, that I should call you brother,
	As I did him, and speak of something wildly
	By us perform'd before. Most dearly welcome!
	And your fair princess,--goddess!--O, alas!
	I lost a couple, that 'twixt heaven and earth
	Might thus have stood begetting wonder as
	You, gracious couple, do: and then I lost--
	All mine own folly--the society,
	Amity too, of your brave father, whom,
	Though bearing misery, I desire my life
	Once more to look on him.

FLORIZEL	By his command
	Have I here touch'd Sicilia and from him
	Give you all greetings that a king, at friend,
	Can send his brother: and, but infirmity
	Which waits upon worn times hath something seized
	His wish'd ability, he had himself
	The lands and waters 'twixt your throne and his
	Measured to look upon you; whom he loves--
	He bade me say so--more than all the sceptres
	And those that bear them living.

LEONTES	O my brother,
	Good gentleman! the wrongs I have done thee stir
	Afresh within me, and these thy offices,
	So rarely kind, are as interpreters
	Of my behind-hand slackness. Welcome hither,
	As is the spring to the earth. And hath he too
	Exposed this paragon to the fearful usage,
	At least ungentle, of the dreadful Neptune,
	To greet a man not worth her pains, much less
	The adventure of her person?

FLORIZEL	Good my lord,
	She came from Libya.

LEONTES	Where the warlike Smalus,
	That noble honour'd lord, is fear'd and loved?

FLORIZEL	Most royal sir, from thence; from him, whose daughter
	His tears proclaim'd his, parting with her: thence,
	A prosperous south-wind friendly, we have cross'd,
	To execute the charge my father gave me
	For visiting your highness: my best train
	I have from your Sicilian shores dismiss'd;
	Who for Bohemia bend, to signify
	Not only my success in Libya, sir,
	But my arrival and my wife's in safety
	Here where we are.

LEONTES	                  The blessed gods
	Purge all infection from our air whilst you
	Do climate here! You have a holy father,
	A graceful gentleman; against whose person,
	So sacred as it is, I have done sin:
	For which the heavens, taking angry note,
	Have left me issueless; and your father's blest,
	As he from heaven merits it, with you
	Worthy his goodness. What might I have been,
	Might I a son and daughter now have look'd on,
	Such goodly things as you!

	[Enter a Lord]

Lord	Most noble sir,
	That which I shall report will bear no credit,
	Were not the proof so nigh. Please you, great sir,
	Bohemia greets you from himself by me;
	Desires you to attach his son, who has--
	His dignity and duty both cast off--
	Fled from his father, from his hopes, and with
	A shepherd's daughter.

LEONTES	Where's Bohemia? speak.

Lord	Here in your city; I now came from him:
	I speak amazedly; and it becomes
	My marvel and my message. To your court
	Whiles he was hastening, in the chase, it seems,
	Of this fair couple, meets he on the way
	The father of this seeming lady and
	Her brother, having both their country quitted
	With this young prince.

FLORIZEL	Camillo has betray'd me;
	Whose honour and whose honesty till now
	Endured all weathers.

Lord	Lay't so to his charge:
	He's with the king your father.

LEONTES	Who? Camillo?

Lord	Camillo, sir; I spake with him; who now
	Has these poor men in question. Never saw I
	Wretches so quake: they kneel, they kiss the earth;
	Forswear themselves as often as they speak:
	Bohemia stops his ears, and threatens them
	With divers deaths in death.

PERDITA	O my poor father!
	The heaven sets spies upon us, will not have
	Our contract celebrated.

LEONTES	You are married?

FLORIZEL	We are not, sir, nor are we like to be;
	The stars, I see, will kiss the valleys first:
	The odds for high and low's alike.

LEONTES	My lord,
	Is this the daughter of a king?

FLORIZEL	She is,
	When once she is my wife.

LEONTES	That 'once' I see by your good father's speed
	Will come on very slowly. I am sorry,
	Most sorry, you have broken from his liking
	Where you were tied in duty, and as sorry
	Your choice is not so rich in worth as beauty,
	That you might well enjoy her.

FLORIZEL	Dear, look up:
	Though Fortune, visible an enemy,
	Should chase us with my father, power no jot
	Hath she to change our loves. Beseech you, sir,
	Remember since you owed no more to time
	Than I do now: with thought of such affections,
	Step forth mine advocate; at your request
	My father will grant precious things as trifles.

LEONTES	Would he do so, I'ld beg your precious mistress,
	Which he counts but a trifle.

PAULINA	Sir, my liege,
	Your eye hath too much youth in't: not a month
	'Fore your queen died, she was more worth such gazes
	Than what you look on now.

LEONTES	I thought of her,
	Even in these looks I made.

	[To FLORIZEL]

		       But your petition
	Is yet unanswer'd. I will to your father:
	Your honour not o'erthrown by your desires,
	I am friend to them and you: upon which errand
	I now go toward him; therefore follow me
	And mark what way I make: come, good my lord.

	[Exeunt]




	THE WINTER'S TALE


ACT V



SCENE II	Before LEONTES' palace.


	[Enter AUTOLYCUS and a Gentleman]

AUTOLYCUS	Beseech you, sir, were you present at this relation?

First Gentleman	I was by at the opening of the fardel, heard the old
	shepherd deliver the manner how he found it:
	whereupon, after a little amazedness, we were all
	commanded out of the chamber; only this methought I
	heard the shepherd say, he found the child.

AUTOLYCUS	I would most gladly know the issue of it.

First Gentleman	I make a broken delivery of the business; but the
	changes I perceived in the king and Camillo were
	very notes of admiration: they seemed almost, with
	staring on one another, to tear the cases of their
	eyes; there was speech in their dumbness, language
	in their very gesture; they looked as they had heard
	of a world ransomed, or one destroyed: a notable
	passion of wonder appeared in them; but the wisest
	beholder, that knew no more but seeing, could not
	say if the importance were joy or sorrow; but in the
	extremity of the one, it must needs be.

	[Enter another Gentleman]

	Here comes a gentleman that haply knows more.
	The news, Rogero?

Second Gentleman	Nothing but bonfires: the oracle is fulfilled; the
	king's daughter is found: such a deal of wonder is
	broken out within this hour that ballad-makers
	cannot be able to express it.

	[Enter a third Gentleman]

	Here comes the Lady Paulina's steward: he can
	deliver you more. How goes it now, sir? this news
	which is called true is so like an old tale, that
	the verity of it is in strong suspicion: has the king
	found his heir?

Third Gentleman	Most true, if ever truth were pregnant by
	circumstance: that which you hear you'll swear you
	see, there is such unity in the proofs. The mantle
	of Queen Hermione's, her jewel about the neck of it,
	the letters of Antigonus found with it which they
	know to be his character, the majesty of the
	creature in resemblance of the mother, the affection
	of nobleness which nature shows above her breeding,
	and many other evidences proclaim her with all
	certainty to be the king's daughter. Did you see
	the meeting of the two kings?

Second Gentleman	No.

Third Gentleman	Then have you lost a sight, which was to be seen,
	cannot be spoken of. There might you have beheld one
	joy crown another, so and in such manner that it
	seemed sorrow wept to take leave of them, for their
	joy waded in tears. There was casting up of eyes,
	holding up of hands, with countenances of such
	distraction that they were to be known by garment,
	not by favour. Our king, being ready to leap out of
	himself for joy of his found daughter, as if that
	joy were now become a loss, cries 'O, thy mother,
	thy mother!' then asks Bohemia forgiveness; then
	embraces his son-in-law; then again worries he his
	daughter with clipping her; now he thanks the old
	shepherd, which stands by like a weather-bitten
	conduit of many kings' reigns. I never heard of such
	another encounter, which lames report to follow it
	and undoes description to do it.

Second Gentleman	What, pray you, became of Antigonus, that carried
	hence the child?

Third Gentleman	Like an old tale still, which will have matter to
	rehearse, though credit be asleep and not an ear
	open. He was torn to pieces with a bear: this
	avouches the shepherd's son; who has not only his
	innocence, which seems much, to justify him, but a
	handkerchief and rings of his that Paulina knows.

First Gentleman	What became of his bark and his followers?

Third Gentleman	Wrecked the same instant of their master's death and
	in the view of the shepherd: so that all the
	instruments which aided to expose the child were
	even then lost when it was found. But O, the noble
	combat that 'twixt joy and sorrow was fought in
	Paulina! She had one eye declined for the loss of
	her husband, another elevated that the oracle was
	fulfilled: she lifted the princess from the earth,
	and so locks her in embracing, as if she would pin
	her to her heart that she might no more be in danger
	of losing.

First Gentleman	The dignity of this act was worth the audience of
	kings and princes; for by such was it acted.

Third Gentleman	One of the prettiest touches of all and that which
	angled for mine eyes, caught the water though not
	the fish, was when, at the relation of the queen's
	death, with the manner how she came to't bravely
	confessed and lamented by the king, how
	attentiveness wounded his daughter; till, from one
	sign of dolour to another, she did, with an 'Alas,'
	I would fain say, bleed tears, for I am sure my
	heart wept blood. Who was most marble there changed
	colour; some swooned, all sorrowed: if all the world
	could have seen 't, the woe had been universal.

First Gentleman	Are they returned to the court?

Third Gentleman	No: the princess hearing of her mother's statue,
	which is in the keeping of Paulina,--a piece many
	years in doing and now newly performed by that rare
	Italian master, Julio Romano, who, had he himself
	eternity and could put breath into his work, would
	beguile Nature of her custom, so perfectly he is her
	ape: he so near to Hermione hath done Hermione that
	they say one would speak to her and stand in hope of
	answer: thither with all greediness of affection
	are they gone, and there they intend to sup.

Second Gentleman	I thought she had some great matter there in hand;
	for she hath privately twice or thrice a day, ever
	since the death of Hermione, visited that removed
	house. Shall we thither and with our company piece
	the rejoicing?

First Gentleman	Who would be thence that has the benefit of access?
	every wink of an eye some new grace will be born:
	our absence makes us unthrifty to our knowledge.
	Let's along.

	[Exeunt Gentlemen]

AUTOLYCUS	Now, had I not the dash of my former life in me,
	would preferment drop on my head. I brought the old
	man and his son aboard the prince: told him I heard
	them talk of a fardel and I know not what: but he
	at that time, overfond of the shepherd's daughter,
	so he then took her to be, who began to be much
	sea-sick, and himself little better, extremity of
	weather continuing, this mystery remained
	undiscovered. But 'tis all one to me; for had I
	been the finder out of this secret, it would not
	have relished among my other discredits.

	[Enter Shepherd and Clown]

	Here come those I have done good to against my will,
	and already appearing in the blossoms of their fortune.

Shepherd	Come, boy; I am past moe children, but thy sons and
	daughters will be all gentlemen born.

Clown	You are well met, sir. You denied to fight with me
	this other day, because I was no gentleman born.
	See you these clothes? say you see them not and
	think me still no gentleman born: you were best say
	these robes are not gentlemen born: give me the
	lie, do, and try whether I am not now a gentleman born.

AUTOLYCUS	I know you are now, sir, a gentleman born.

Clown	Ay, and have been so any time these four hours.

Shepherd	And so have I, boy.

Clown	So you have: but I was a gentleman born before my
	father; for the king's son took me by the hand, and
	called me brother; and then the two kings called my
	father brother; and then the prince my brother and
	the princess my sister called my father father; and
	so we wept, and there was the first gentleman-like
	tears that ever we shed.

Shepherd	We may live, son, to shed many more.

Clown	Ay; or else 'twere hard luck, being in so
	preposterous estate as we are.

AUTOLYCUS	I humbly beseech you, sir, to pardon me all the
	faults I have committed to your worship and to give
	me your good report to the prince my master.

Shepherd	Prithee, son, do; for we must be gentle, now we are
	gentlemen.

Clown	Thou wilt amend thy life?

AUTOLYCUS	Ay, an it like your good worship.

Clown	Give me thy hand: I will swear to the prince thou
	art as honest a true fellow as any is in Bohemia.

Shepherd	You may say it, but not swear it.

Clown	Not swear it, now I am a gentleman? Let boors and
	franklins say it, I'll swear it.

Shepherd	How if it be false, son?

Clown	If it be ne'er so false, a true gentleman may swear
	it in the behalf of his friend: and I'll swear to
	the prince thou art a tall fellow of thy hands and
	that thou wilt not be drunk; but I know thou art no
	tall fellow of thy hands and that thou wilt be
	drunk: but I'll swear it, and I would thou wouldst
	be a tall fellow of thy hands.

AUTOLYCUS	I will prove so, sir, to my power.

Clown	Ay, by any means prove a tall fellow: if I do not
	wonder how thou darest venture to be drunk, not
	being a tall fellow, trust me not. Hark! the kings
	and the princes, our kindred, are going to see the
	queen's picture. Come, follow us: we'll be thy
	good masters.

	[Exeunt]




	THE WINTER'S TALE


ACT V



SCENE III	A chapel in PAULINA'S house.


	[Enter LEONTES, POLIXENES, FLORIZEL, PERDITA,
	CAMILLO, PAULINA, Lords, and Attendants]

LEONTES	O grave and good Paulina, the great comfort
	That I have had of thee!

PAULINA	What, sovereign sir,
	I did not well I meant well. All my services
	You have paid home: but that you have vouchsafed,
	With your crown'd brother and these your contracted
	Heirs of your kingdoms, my poor house to visit,
	It is a surplus of your grace, which never
	My life may last to answer.

LEONTES	O Paulina,
	We honour you with trouble: but we came
	To see the statue of our queen: your gallery
	Have we pass'd through, not without much content
	In many singularities; but we saw not
	That which my daughter came to look upon,
	The statue of her mother.

PAULINA	As she lived peerless,
	So her dead likeness, I do well believe,
	Excels whatever yet you look'd upon
	Or hand of man hath done; therefore I keep it
	Lonely, apart. But here it is: prepare
	To see the life as lively mock'd as ever
	Still sleep mock'd death: behold, and say 'tis well.

	[PAULINA draws a curtain, and discovers HERMIONE
	standing like a statue]

	I like your silence, it the more shows off
	Your wonder: but yet speak; first, you, my liege,
	Comes it not something near?

LEONTES	Her natural posture!
	Chide me, dear stone, that I may say indeed
	Thou art Hermione; or rather, thou art she
	In thy not chiding, for she was as tender
	As infancy and grace. But yet, Paulina,
	Hermione was not so much wrinkled, nothing
	So aged as this seems.

POLIXENES	O, not by much.

PAULINA	So much the more our carver's excellence;
	Which lets go by some sixteen years and makes her
	As she lived now.

LEONTES	                  As now she might have done,
	So much to my good comfort, as it is
	Now piercing to my soul. O, thus she stood,
	Even with such life of majesty, warm life,
	As now it coldly stands, when first I woo'd her!
	I am ashamed: does not the stone rebuke me
	For being more stone than it? O royal piece,
	There's magic in thy majesty, which has
	My evils conjured to remembrance and
	From thy admiring daughter took the spirits,
	Standing like stone with thee.

PERDITA	And give me leave,
	And do not say 'tis superstition, that
	I kneel and then implore her blessing. Lady,
	Dear queen, that ended when I but began,
	Give me that hand of yours to kiss.

PAULINA	O, patience!
	The statue is but newly fix'd, the colour's Not dry.

CAMILLO	My lord, your sorrow was too sore laid on,
	Which sixteen winters cannot blow away,
	So many summers dry; scarce any joy
	Did ever so long live; no sorrow
	But kill'd itself much sooner.

POLIXENES	Dear my brother,
	Let him that was the cause of this have power
	To take off so much grief from you as he
	Will piece up in himself.

PAULINA	Indeed, my lord,
	If I had thought the sight of my poor image
	Would thus have wrought you,--for the stone is mine--
	I'ld not have show'd it.

LEONTES	Do not draw the curtain.

PAULINA	No longer shall you gaze on't, lest your fancy
	May think anon it moves.

LEONTES	Let be, let be.
	Would I were dead, but that, methinks, already--
	What was he that did make it? See, my lord,
	Would you not deem it breathed? and that those veins
	Did verily bear blood?

POLIXENES	Masterly done:
	The very life seems warm upon her lip.

LEONTES	The fixture of her eye has motion in't,
	As we are mock'd with art.

PAULINA	I'll draw the curtain:
	My lord's almost so far transported that
	He'll think anon it lives.

LEONTES	O sweet Paulina,
	Make me to think so twenty years together!
	No settled senses of the world can match
	The pleasure of that madness. Let 't alone.

PAULINA	I am sorry, sir, I have thus far stirr'd you: but
	I could afflict you farther.

LEONTES	Do, Paulina;
	For this affliction has a taste as sweet
	As any cordial comfort. Still, methinks,
	There is an air comes from her: what fine chisel
	Could ever yet cut breath? Let no man mock me,
	For I will kiss her.

PAULINA	Good my lord, forbear:
	The ruddiness upon her lip is wet;
	You'll mar it if you kiss it, stain your own
	With oily painting. Shall I draw the curtain?

LEONTES	No, not these twenty years.

PERDITA	So long could I
	Stand by, a looker on.

PAULINA	Either forbear,
	Quit presently the chapel, or resolve you
	For more amazement. If you can behold it,
	I'll make the statue move indeed, descend
	And take you by the hand; but then you'll think--
	Which I protest against--I am assisted
	By wicked powers.

LEONTES	                  What you can make her do,
	I am content to look on: what to speak,
	I am content to hear; for 'tis as easy
	To make her speak as move.

PAULINA	It is required
	You do awake your faith. Then all stand still;
	On: those that think it is unlawful business
	I am about, let them depart.

LEONTES	Proceed:
	No foot shall stir.

PAULINA	Music, awake her; strike!

	[Music]

	'Tis time; descend; be stone no more; approach;
	Strike all that look upon with marvel. Come,
	I'll fill your grave up: stir, nay, come away,
	Bequeath to death your numbness, for from him
	Dear life redeems you. You perceive she stirs:

	[HERMIONE comes down]

	Start not; her actions shall be holy as
	You hear my spell is lawful: do not shun her
	Until you see her die again; for then
	You kill her double. Nay, present your hand:
	When she was young you woo'd her; now in age
	Is she become the suitor?

LEONTES	O, she's warm!
	If this be magic, let it be an art
	Lawful as eating.

POLIXENES	                  She embraces him.

CAMILLO	She hangs about his neck:
	If she pertain to life let her speak too.

POLIXENES	Ay, and make't manifest where she has lived,
	Or how stolen from the dead.

PAULINA	That she is living,
	Were it but told you, should be hooted at
	Like an old tale: but it appears she lives,
	Though yet she speak not. Mark a little while.
	Please you to interpose, fair madam: kneel
	And pray your mother's blessing. Turn, good lady;
	Our Perdita is found.

HERMIONE	You gods, look down
	And from your sacred vials pour your graces
	Upon my daughter's head! Tell me, mine own.
	Where hast thou been preserved? where lived? how found
	Thy father's court? for thou shalt hear that I,
	Knowing by Paulina that the oracle
	Gave hope thou wast in being, have preserved
	Myself to see the issue.

PAULINA	There's time enough for that;
	Lest they desire upon this push to trouble
	Your joys with like relation. Go together,
	You precious winners all; your exultation
	Partake to every one. I, an old turtle,
	Will wing me to some wither'd bough and there
	My mate, that's never to be found again,
	Lament till I am lost.

LEONTES	O, peace, Paulina!
	Thou shouldst a husband take by my consent,
	As I by thine a wife: this is a match,
	And made between's by vows. Thou hast found mine;
	But how, is to be question'd; for I saw her,
	As I thought, dead, and have in vain said many
	A prayer upon her grave. I'll not seek far--
	For him, I partly know his mind--to find thee
	An honourable husband. Come, Camillo,
	And take her by the hand, whose worth and honesty
	Is richly noted and here justified
	By us, a pair of kings. Let's from this place.
	What! look upon my brother: both your pardons,
	That e'er I put between your holy looks
	My ill suspicion. This is your son-in-law,
	And son unto the king, who, heavens directing,
	Is troth-plight to your daughter. Good Paulina,
	Lead us from hence, where we may leisurely
	Each one demand an answer to his part
	Perform'd in this wide gap of time since first
	We were dissever'd: hastily lead away.

	[Exeunt]





	CYMBELINE


	DRAMATIS PERSONAE


CYMBELINE	king of Britain.

CLOTEN	son to the Queen by a former husband.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	a gentleman, husband to Imogen.

BELARIUS	a banished lord, disguised under the name of Morgan.


GUIDERIUS	|  sons to Cymbeline, disguised under the names
	|  of Polydote and Cadwal, supposed sons to
ARVIRAGUS	|  Morgan.


PHILARIO	friend to Posthumus,	|
			|  Italians.
IACHIMO	friend to Philario, 	|


CAIUS LUCIUS	general of the Roman forces.

PISANIO	servant to Posthumus.

CORNELIUS	a physician.

	A Roman Captain. (Captain:)

	Two British Captains.
	(First Captain:)
	(Second Captain:)

	A Frenchman, friend to Philario.
	(Frenchman:)

	Two Lords of Cymbeline's court.
	(First Lord:)
	(Second Lord:)

	Two Gentlemen of the same.
	(First Gentleman:)
	(Second Gentleman:)

	Two Gaolers.
	(First Gaoler:)
	(Second Gaoler:)

QUEEN	wife to Cymbeline.

IMOGEN	daughter to Cymbeline by a former queen.

HELEN	a lady attending on Imogen.

	Lords, Ladies, Roman Senators, Tribunes,
	a Soothsayer, a Dutchman, a Spaniard, Musicians,
	Officers, Captains, Soldiers, Messengers,
	and other Attendants. (Lord:)
	(Lady:)
	(First Lady:)
	(First Senator:)
	(Second Senator:)
	(First Tribune:)
	(Soothsayer:)
	(Messenger:)

	Apparitions.
	(Sicilius Leonatus:)
	(Mother:)
	(First Brother:)
	(Second Brother:)
	(Jupiter:)

SCENE	Britain; Rome.




	CYMBELINE


ACT I



SCENE I	Britain. The garden of Cymbeline's palace.


	[Enter two Gentlemen]

First Gentleman	You do not meet a man but frowns: our bloods
	No more obey the heavens than our courtiers
	Still seem as does the king.

Second Gentleman	But what's the matter?

First Gentleman	His daughter, and the heir of's kingdom, whom
	He purposed to his wife's sole son--a widow
	That late he married--hath referr'd herself
	Unto a poor but worthy gentleman: she's wedded;
	Her husband banish'd; she imprison'd: all
	Is outward sorrow; though I think the king
	Be touch'd at very heart.

Second Gentleman	None but the king?

First Gentleman	He that hath lost her too; so is the queen,
	That most desired the match; but not a courtier,
	Although they wear their faces to the bent
	Of the king's look's, hath a heart that is not
	Glad at the thing they scowl at.

Second Gentleman	And why so?

First Gentleman	He that hath miss'd the princess is a thing
	Too bad for bad report: and he that hath her--
	I mean, that married her, alack, good man!
	And therefore banish'd--is a creature such
	As, to seek through the regions of the earth
	For one his like, there would be something failing
	In him that should compare. I do not think
	So fair an outward and such stuff within
	Endows a man but he.

Second Gentleman	You speak him far.

First Gentleman	I do extend him, sir, within himself,
	Crush him together rather than unfold
	His measure duly.

Second Gentleman	                  What's his name and birth?

First Gentleman	I cannot delve him to the root: his father
	Was call'd Sicilius, who did join his honour
	Against the Romans with Cassibelan,
	But had his titles by Tenantius whom
	He served with glory and admired success,
	So gain'd the sur-addition Leonatus;
	And had, besides this gentleman in question,
	Two other sons, who in the wars o' the time
	Died with their swords in hand; for which
	their father,
	Then old and fond of issue, took such sorrow
	That he quit being, and his gentle lady,
	Big of this gentleman our theme, deceased
	As he was born. The king he takes the babe
	To his protection, calls him Posthumus Leonatus,
	Breeds him and makes him of his bed-chamber,
	Puts to him all the learnings that his time
	Could make him the receiver of; which he took,
	As we do air, fast as 'twas minister'd,
	And in's spring became a harvest, lived in court--
	Which rare it is to do--most praised, most loved,
	A sample to the youngest, to the more mature
	A glass that feated them, and to the graver
	A child that guided dotards; to his mistress,
	For whom he now is banish'd, her own price
	Proclaims how she esteem'd him and his virtue;
	By her election may be truly read
	What kind of man he is.

Second Gentleman	I honour him
	Even out of your report. But, pray you, tell me,
	Is she sole child to the king?

First Gentleman	His only child.
	He had two sons: if this be worth your hearing,
	Mark it: the eldest of them at three years old,
	I' the swathing-clothes the other, from their nursery
	Were stol'n, and to this hour no guess in knowledge
	Which way they went.

Second Gentleman	How long is this ago?

First Gentleman	Some twenty years.

Second Gentleman	That a king's children should be so convey'd,
	So slackly guarded, and the search so slow,
	That could not trace them!

First Gentleman	Howsoe'er 'tis strange,
	Or that the negligence may well be laugh'd at,
	Yet is it true, sir.

Second Gentleman	I do well believe you.

First Gentleman	We must forbear: here comes the gentleman,
	The queen, and princess.

	[Exeunt]

	[Enter the QUEEN, POSTHUMUS LEONATUS, and IMOGEN]

QUEEN	No, be assured you shall not find me, daughter,
	After the slander of most stepmothers,
	Evil-eyed unto you: you're my prisoner, but
	Your gaoler shall deliver you the keys
	That lock up your restraint. For you, Posthumus,
	So soon as I can win the offended king,
	I will be known your advocate: marry, yet
	The fire of rage is in him, and 'twere good
	You lean'd unto his sentence with what patience
	Your wisdom may inform you.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	Please your highness,
	I will from hence to-day.

QUEEN	You know the peril.
	I'll fetch a turn about the garden, pitying
	The pangs of barr'd affections, though the king
	Hath charged you should not speak together.

	[Exit]

IMOGEN	O
	Dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant
	Can tickle where she wounds! My dearest husband,
	I something fear my father's wrath; but nothing--
	Always reserved my holy duty--what
	His rage can do on me: you must be gone;
	And I shall here abide the hourly shot
	Of angry eyes, not comforted to live,
	But that there is this jewel in the world
	That I may see again.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	My queen! my mistress!
	O lady, weep no more, lest I give cause
	To be suspected of more tenderness
	Than doth become a man. I will remain
	The loyal'st husband that did e'er plight troth:
	My residence in Rome at one Philario's,
	Who to my father was a friend, to me
	Known but by letter: thither write, my queen,
	And with mine eyes I'll drink the words you send,
	Though ink be made of gall.

	[Re-enter QUEEN]

QUEEN	Be brief, I pray you:
	If the king come, I shall incur I know not
	How much of his displeasure.

	[Aside]

		        Yet I'll move him
	To walk this way: I never do him wrong,
	But he does buy my injuries, to be friends;
	Pays dear for my offences.

	[Exit]

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	Should we be taking leave
	As long a term as yet we have to live,
	The loathness to depart would grow. Adieu!

IMOGEN	Nay, stay a little:
	Were you but riding forth to air yourself,
	Such parting were too petty. Look here, love;
	This diamond was my mother's: take it, heart;
	But keep it till you woo another wife,
	When Imogen is dead.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	How, how! another?
	You gentle gods, give me but this I have,
	And sear up my embracements from a next
	With bonds of death!

	[Putting on the ring]

		Remain, remain thou here
	While sense can keep it on. And, sweetest, fairest,
	As I my poor self did exchange for you,
	To your so infinite loss, so in our trifles
	I still win of you: for my sake wear this;
	It is a manacle of love; I'll place it
	Upon this fairest prisoner.

	[Putting a bracelet upon her arm]

IMOGEN	O the gods!
	When shall we see again?

	[Enter CYMBELINE and Lords]

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	Alack, the king!

CYMBELINE	Thou basest thing, avoid! hence, from my sight!
	If after this command thou fraught the court
	With thy unworthiness, thou diest: away!
	Thou'rt poison to my blood.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	The gods protect you!
	And bless the good remainders of the court! I am gone.

	[Exit]

IMOGEN	                  There cannot be a pinch in death
	More sharp than this is.

CYMBELINE	O disloyal thing,
	That shouldst repair my youth, thou heap'st
	A year's age on me.

IMOGEN	I beseech you, sir,
	Harm not yourself with your vexation
	I am senseless of your wrath; a touch more rare
	Subdues all pangs, all fears.

CYMBELINE	Past grace? obedience?

IMOGEN	Past hope, and in despair; that way, past grace.

CYMBELINE	That mightst have had the sole son of my queen!

IMOGEN	O blest, that I might not! I chose an eagle,
	And did avoid a puttock.

CYMBELINE	Thou took'st a beggar; wouldst have made my throne
	A seat for baseness.

IMOGEN	No; I rather added
	A lustre to it.

CYMBELINE	                  O thou vile one!

IMOGEN	Sir,
	It is your fault that I have loved Posthumus:
	You bred him as my playfellow, and he is
	A man worth any woman, overbuys me
	Almost the sum he pays.

CYMBELINE	What, art thou mad?

IMOGEN	Almost, sir: heaven restore me! Would I were
	A neat-herd's daughter, and my Leonatus
	Our neighbour shepherd's son!

CYMBELINE	Thou foolish thing!

	[Re-enter QUEEN]

	They were again together: you have done
	Not after our command. Away with her,
	And pen her up.

QUEEN	                  Beseech your patience. Peace,
	Dear lady daughter, peace! Sweet sovereign,
	Leave us to ourselves; and make yourself some comfort
	Out of your best advice.

CYMBELINE	Nay, let her languish
	A drop of blood a day; and, being aged,
	Die of this folly!

	[Exeunt CYMBELINE and Lords]

QUEEN	                  Fie! you must give way.

	[Enter PISANIO]

	Here is your servant. How now, sir! What news?

PISANIO	My lord your son drew on my master.

QUEEN	Ha!
	No harm, I trust, is done?

PISANIO	There might have been,
	But that my master rather play'd than fought
	And had no help of anger: they were parted
	By gentlemen at hand.

QUEEN	I am very glad on't.

IMOGEN	Your son's my father's friend; he takes his part.
	To draw upon an exile! O brave sir!
	I would they were in Afric both together;
	Myself by with a needle, that I might prick
	The goer-back. Why came you from your master?

PISANIO	On his command: he would not suffer me
	To bring him to the haven; left these notes
	Of what commands I should be subject to,
	When 't pleased you to employ me.

QUEEN	This hath been
	Your faithful servant: I dare lay mine honour
	He will remain so.

PISANIO	                  I humbly thank your highness.

QUEEN	Pray, walk awhile.

IMOGEN	                  About some half-hour hence,
	I pray you, speak with me: you shall at least
	Go see my lord aboard: for this time leave me.

	[Exeunt]




	CYMBELINE


ACT I



SCENE II	The same. A public place.


	[Enter CLOTEN and two Lords]

First Lord	Sir, I would advise you to shift a shirt; the
	violence of action hath made you reek as a
	sacrifice: where air comes out, air comes in:
	there's none abroad so wholesome as that you vent.

CLOTEN	If my shirt were bloody, then to shift it. Have I hurt him?

Second Lord	[Aside]  No, 'faith; not so much as his patience.

First Lord	Hurt him! his body's a passable carcass, if he be
	not hurt: it is a thoroughfare for steel, if it be not hurt.

Second Lord	[Aside]  His steel was in debt; it went o' the
	backside the town.

CLOTEN	The villain would not stand me.

Second Lord	[Aside]  No; but he fled forward still, toward your face.

First Lord	Stand you! You have land enough of your own: but
	he added to your having; gave you some ground.

Second Lord	[Aside]  As many inches as you have oceans. Puppies!

CLOTEN	I would they had not come between us.

Second Lord	[Aside]  So would I, till you had measured how long
	a fool you were upon the ground.

CLOTEN	And that she should love this fellow and refuse me!

Second Lord	[Aside]  If it be a sin to make a true election, she
	is damned.

First Lord	Sir, as I told you always, her beauty and her brain
	go not together: she's a good sign, but I have seen
	small reflection of her wit.

Second Lord	[Aside]  She shines not upon fools, lest the
	reflection should hurt her.

CLOTEN	Come, I'll to my chamber. Would there had been some
	hurt done!

Second Lord	[Aside]  I wish not so; unless it had been the fall
	of an ass, which is no great hurt.

CLOTEN	You'll go with us?

First Lord	I'll attend your lordship.

CLOTEN	Nay, come, let's go together.

Second Lord	Well, my lord.

	[Exeunt]




	CYMBELINE


ACT I



SCENE III	A room in Cymbeline's palace.


	[Enter IMOGEN and PISANIO]

IMOGEN	I would thou grew'st unto the shores o' the haven,
	And question'dst every sail: if he should write
	And not have it, 'twere a paper lost,
	As offer'd mercy is. What was the last
	That he spake to thee?

PISANIO	It was his queen, his queen!

IMOGEN	Then waved his handkerchief?

PISANIO	And kiss'd it, madam.

IMOGEN	Senseless Linen! happier therein than I!
	And that was all?

PISANIO	                  No, madam; for so long
	As he could make me with this eye or ear
	Distinguish him from others, he did keep
	The deck, with glove, or hat, or handkerchief,
	Still waving, as the fits and stirs of 's mind
	Could best express how slow his soul sail'd on,
	How swift his ship.

IMOGEN	Thou shouldst have made him
	As little as a crow, or less, ere left
	To after-eye him.

PISANIO	                  Madam, so I did.

IMOGEN	I would have broke mine eye-strings; crack'd them, but
	To look upon him, till the diminution
	Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle,
	Nay, follow'd him, till he had melted from
	The smallness of a gnat to air, and then
	Have turn'd mine eye and wept. But, good Pisanio,
	When shall we hear from him?

PISANIO	Be assured, madam,
	With his next vantage.

IMOGEN	I did not take my leave of him, but had
	Most pretty things to say: ere I could tell him
	How I would think on him at certain hours
	Such thoughts and such, or I could make him swear
	The shes of Italy should not betray
	Mine interest and his honour, or have charged him,
	At the sixth hour of morn, at noon, at midnight,
	To encounter me with orisons, for then
	I am in heaven for him; or ere I could
	Give him that parting kiss which I had set
	Betwixt two charming words, comes in my father
	And like the tyrannous breathing of the north
	Shakes all our buds from growing.

	[Enter a Lady]

Lady	The queen, madam,
	Desires your highness' company.

IMOGEN	Those things I bid you do, get them dispatch'd.
	I will attend the queen.

PISANIO	Madam, I shall.

	[Exeunt]




	CYMBELINE


ACT I



SCENE IV	Rome. Philario's house.


	[Enter PHILARIO, IACHIMO, a Frenchman, a
	Dutchman, and a Spaniard]

IACHIMO	Believe it, sir, I have seen him in Britain: he was
	then of a crescent note, expected to prove so worthy
	as since he hath been allowed the name of; but I
	could then have looked on him without the help of
	admiration, though the catalogue of his endowments
	had been tabled by his side and I to peruse him by items.

PHILARIO	You speak of him when he was less furnished than now
	he is with that which makes him both without and within.

Frenchman	I have seen him in France: we had very many there
	could behold the sun with as firm eyes as he.

IACHIMO	This matter of marrying his king's daughter, wherein
	he must be weighed rather by her value than his own,
	words him, I doubt not, a great deal from the matter.

Frenchman	And then his banishment.

IACHIMO	Ay, and the approbation of those that weep this
	lamentable divorce under her colours are wonderfully
	to extend him; be it but to fortify her judgment,
	which else an easy battery might lay flat, for
	taking a beggar without less quality. But how comes
	it he is to sojourn with you? How creeps
	acquaintance?

PHILARIO	His father and I were soldiers together; to whom I
	have been often bound for no less than my life.
	Here comes the Briton: let him be so entertained
	amongst you as suits, with gentlemen of your
	knowing, to a stranger of his quality.

	[Enter POSTHUMUS LEONATUS]

	I beseech you all, be better known to this
	gentleman; whom I commend to you as a noble friend
	of mine: how worthy he is I will leave to appear
	hereafter, rather than story him in his own hearing.

Frenchman	Sir, we have known together in Orleans.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	Since when I have been debtor to you for courtesies,
	which I will be ever to pay and yet pay still.

Frenchman	Sir, you o'er-rate my poor kindness: I was glad I
	did atone my countryman and you; it had been pity
	you should have been put together with so mortal a
	purpose as then each bore, upon importance of so
	slight and trivial a nature.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	By your pardon, sir, I was then a young traveller;
	rather shunned to go even with what I heard than in
	my every action to be guided by others' experiences:
	but upon my mended judgment--if I offend not to say
	it is mended--my quarrel was not altogether slight.

Frenchman	'Faith, yes, to be put to the arbitrement of swords,
	and by such two that would by all likelihood have
	confounded one the other, or have fallen both.

IACHIMO	Can we, with manners, ask what was the difference?

Frenchman	Safely, I think: 'twas a contention in public,
	which may, without contradiction, suffer the report.
	It was much like an argument that fell out last
	night, where each of us fell in praise of our
	country mistresses; this gentleman at that time
	vouching--and upon warrant of bloody
	affirmation--his to be more fair, virtuous, wise,
	chaste, constant-qualified and less attemptable
	than any the rarest of our ladies in France.

IACHIMO	That lady is not now living, or this gentleman's
	opinion by this worn out.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	She holds her virtue still and I my mind.

IACHIMO	You must not so far prefer her 'fore ours of Italy.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	Being so far provoked as I was in France, I would
	abate her nothing, though I profess myself her
	adorer, not her friend.

IACHIMO	As fair and as good--a kind of hand-in-hand
	comparison--had been something too fair and too good
	for any lady in Britain. If she went before others
	I have seen, as that diamond of yours outlustres
	many I have beheld. I could not but believe she
	excelled many: but I have not seen the most
	precious diamond that is, nor you the lady.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	I praised her as I rated her: so do I my stone.

IACHIMO	What do you esteem it at?

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	More than the world enjoys.

IACHIMO	Either your unparagoned mistress is dead, or she's
	outprized by a trifle.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	You are mistaken: the one may be sold, or given, if
	there were wealth enough for the purchase, or merit
	for the gift: the other is not a thing for sale,
	and only the gift of the gods.

IACHIMO	Which the gods have given you?

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	Which, by their graces, I will keep.

IACHIMO	You may wear her in title yours: but, you know,
	strange fowl light upon neighbouring ponds. Your
	ring may be stolen too: so your brace of unprizable
	estimations; the one is but frail and the other
	casual; a cunning thief, or a that way accomplished
	courtier, would hazard the winning both of first and last.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	Your Italy contains none so accomplished a courtier
	to convince the honour of my mistress, if, in the
	holding or loss of that, you term her frail. I do
	nothing doubt you have store of thieves;
	notwithstanding, I fear not my ring.

PHILARIO	Let us leave here, gentlemen.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	Sir, with all my heart. This worthy signior, I
	thank him, makes no stranger of me; we are familiar at first.

IACHIMO	With five times so much conversation, I should get
	ground of your fair mistress, make her go back, even
	to the yielding, had I admittance and opportunity to friend.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	No, no.

IACHIMO	I dare thereupon pawn the moiety of my estate to
	your ring; which, in my opinion, o'ervalues it
	something: but I make my wager rather against your
	confidence than her reputation: and, to bar your
	offence herein too, I durst attempt it against any
	lady in the world.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	You are a great deal abused in too bold a
	persuasion; and I doubt not you sustain what you're
	worthy of by your attempt.

IACHIMO	What's that?

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	A repulse: though your attempt, as you call it,
	deserve more; a punishment too.

PHILARIO	Gentlemen, enough of this: it came in too suddenly;
	let it die as it was born, and, I pray you, be
	better acquainted.

IACHIMO	Would I had put my estate and my neighbour's on the
	approbation of what I have spoke!

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	What lady would you choose to assail?

IACHIMO	Yours; whom in constancy you think stands so safe.
	I will lay you ten thousand ducats to your ring,
	that, commend me to the court where your lady is,
	with no more advantage than the opportunity of a
	second conference, and I will bring from thence
	that honour of hers which you imagine so reserved.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	I will wage against your gold, gold to it: my ring
	I hold dear as my finger; 'tis part of it.

IACHIMO	You are afraid, and therein the wiser. If you buy
	ladies' flesh at a million a dram, you cannot
	preserve it from tainting: but I see you have some
	religion in you, that you fear.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	This is but a custom in your tongue; you bear a
	graver purpose, I hope.

IACHIMO	I am the master of my speeches, and would undergo
	what's spoken, I swear.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	Will you? I shall but lend my diamond till your
	return: let there be covenants drawn between's: my
	mistress exceeds in goodness the hugeness of your
	unworthy thinking: I dare you to this match: here's my ring.

PHILARIO	I will have it no lay.

IACHIMO	By the gods, it is one. If I bring you no
	sufficient testimony that I have enjoyed the dearest
	bodily part of your mistress, my ten thousand ducats
	are yours; so is your diamond too: if I come off,
	and leave her in such honour as you have trust in,
	she your jewel, this your jewel, and my gold are
	yours: provided I have your commendation for my more
	free entertainment.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	I embrace these conditions; let us have articles
	betwixt us. Only, thus far you shall answer: if
	you make your voyage upon her and give me directly
	to understand you have prevailed, I am no further
	your enemy; she is not worth our debate: if she
	remain unseduced, you not making it appear
	otherwise, for your ill opinion and the assault you
	have made to her chastity you shall answer me with
	your sword.

IACHIMO	Your hand; a covenant: we will have these things set
	down by lawful counsel, and straight away for
	Britain, lest the bargain should catch cold and
	starve: I will fetch my gold and have our two
	wagers recorded.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	Agreed.

	[Exeunt POSTHUMUS LEONATUS and IACHIMO]

Frenchman	Will this hold, think you?

PHILARIO	Signior Iachimo will not from it.
	Pray, let us follow 'em.

	[Exeunt]




	CYMBELINE


ACT I



SCENE V	Britain. A room in Cymbeline's palace.


	[Enter QUEEN, Ladies, and CORNELIUS]

QUEEN	Whiles yet the dew's on ground, gather those flowers;
	Make haste: who has the note of them?

First Lady	I, madam.

QUEEN	Dispatch.

	[Exeunt Ladies]

	Now, master doctor, have you brought those drugs?

CORNELIUS	Pleaseth your highness, ay: here they are, madam:

	[Presenting a small box]

	But I beseech your grace, without offence,--
	My conscience bids me ask--wherefore you have
	Commanded of me those most poisonous compounds,
	Which are the movers of a languishing death;
	But though slow, deadly?

QUEEN	I wonder, doctor,
	Thou ask'st me such a question. Have I not been
	Thy pupil long? Hast thou not learn'd me how
	To make perfumes? distil? preserve? yea, so
	That our great king himself doth woo me oft
	For my confections? Having thus far proceeded,--
	Unless thou think'st me devilish--is't not meet
	That I did amplify my judgment in
	Other conclusions? I will try the forces
	Of these thy compounds on such creatures as
	We count not worth the hanging, but none human,
	To try the vigour of them and apply
	Allayments to their act, and by them gather
	Their several virtues and effects.

CORNELIUS	Your highness
	Shall from this practise but make hard your heart:
	Besides, the seeing these effects will be
	Both noisome and infectious.

QUEEN	O, content thee.

	[Enter PISANIO]

	[Aside]

	Here comes a flattering rascal; upon him
	Will I first work: he's for his master,
	An enemy to my son. How now, Pisanio!
	Doctor, your service for this time is ended;
	Take your own way.

CORNELIUS	[Aside]          I do suspect you, madam;
	But you shall do no harm.

QUEEN	[To PISANIO]            Hark thee, a word.

CORNELIUS	[Aside]  I do not like her. She doth think she has
	Strange lingering poisons: I do know her spirit,
	And will not trust one of her malice with
	A drug of such damn'd nature. Those she has
	Will stupefy and dull the sense awhile;
	Which first, perchance, she'll prove on
	cats and dogs,
	Then afterward up higher: but there is
	No danger in what show of death it makes,
	More than the locking-up the spirits a time,
	To be more fresh, reviving. She is fool'd
	With a most false effect; and I the truer,
	So to be false with her.

QUEEN	No further service, doctor,
	Until I send for thee.

CORNELIUS	I humbly take my leave.

	[Exit]

QUEEN	Weeps she still, say'st thou? Dost thou think in time
	She will not quench and let instructions enter
	Where folly now possesses? Do thou work:
	When thou shalt bring me word she loves my son,
	I'll tell thee on the instant thou art then
	As great as is thy master, greater, for
	His fortunes all lie speechless and his name
	Is at last gasp: return he cannot, nor
	Continue where he is: to shift his being
	Is to exchange one misery with another,
	And every day that comes comes to decay
	A day's work in him. What shalt thou expect,
	To be depender on a thing that leans,
	Who cannot be new built, nor has no friends,
	So much as but to prop him?

	[The QUEEN drops the box: PISANIO takes it up]

		      Thou takest up
	Thou know'st not what; but take it for thy labour:
	It is a thing I made, which hath the king
	Five times redeem'd from death: I do not know
	What is more cordial. Nay, I prethee, take it;
	It is an earnest of a further good
	That I mean to thee. Tell thy mistress how
	The case stands with her; do't as from thyself.
	Think what a chance thou changest on, but think
	Thou hast thy mistress still, to boot, my son,
	Who shall take notice of thee: I'll move the king
	To any shape of thy preferment such
	As thou'lt desire; and then myself, I chiefly,
	That set thee on to this desert, am bound
	To load thy merit richly. Call my women:
	Think on my words.

	[Exit PISANIO]

		A sly and constant knave,
	Not to be shaked; the agent for his master
	And the remembrancer of her to hold
	The hand-fast to her lord. I have given him that
	Which, if he take, shall quite unpeople her
	Of liegers for her sweet, and which she after,
	Except she bend her humour, shall be assured
	To taste of too.

	[Re-enter PISANIO and Ladies]

	So, so: well done, well done:
	The violets, cowslips, and the primroses,
	Bear to my closet. Fare thee well, Pisanio;
	Think on my words.

	[Exeunt QUEEN and Ladies]

PISANIO	And shall do:
	But when to my good lord I prove untrue,
	I'll choke myself: there's all I'll do for you.

	[Exit]




	CYMBELINE


ACT I



SCENE VI	The same. Another room in the palace.


	[Enter IMOGEN]

IMOGEN	A father cruel, and a step-dame false;
	A foolish suitor to a wedded lady,
	That hath her husband banish'd;--O, that husband!
	My supreme crown of grief! and those repeated
	Vexations of it! Had I been thief-stol'n,
	As my two brothers, happy! but most miserable
	Is the desire that's glorious: blest be those,
	How mean soe'er, that have their honest wills,
	Which seasons comfort. Who may this be? Fie!

	[Enter PISANIO and IACHIMO]

PISANIO	Madam, a noble gentleman of Rome,
	Comes from my lord with letters.

IACHIMO	Change you, madam?
	The worthy Leonatus is in safety
	And greets your highness dearly.

	[Presents a letter]

IMOGEN	Thanks, good sir:
	You're kindly welcome.

IACHIMO	[Aside]  All of her that is out of door most rich!
	If she be furnish'd with a mind so rare,
	She is alone the Arabian bird, and I
	Have lost the wager. Boldness be my friend!
	Arm me, audacity, from head to foot!
	Or, like the Parthian, I shall flying fight;
	Rather directly fly.

IMOGEN	[Reads]  'He is one of the noblest note, to whose
	kindnesses I am most infinitely tied. Reflect upon
	him accordingly, as you value your trust--
			 LEONATUS.'
	So far I read aloud:
	But even the very middle of my heart
	Is warm'd by the rest, and takes it thankfully.
	You are as welcome, worthy sir, as I
	Have words to bid you, and shall find it so
	In all that I can do.

IACHIMO	Thanks, fairest lady.
	What, are men mad? Hath nature given them eyes
	To see this vaulted arch, and the rich crop
	Of sea and land, which can distinguish 'twixt
	The fiery orbs above and the twinn'd stones
	Upon the number'd beach? and can we not
	Partition make with spectacles so precious
	'Twixt fair and foul?

IMOGEN	What makes your admiration?

IACHIMO	It cannot be i' the eye, for apes and monkeys
	'Twixt two such shes would chatter this way and
	Contemn with mows the other; nor i' the judgment,
	For idiots in this case of favour would
	Be wisely definite; nor i' the appetite;
	Sluttery to such neat excellence opposed
	Should make desire vomit emptiness,
	Not so allured to feed.

IMOGEN	What is the matter, trow?

IACHIMO	The cloyed will,
	That satiate yet unsatisfied desire, that tub
	Both fill'd and running, ravening first the lamb
	Longs after for the garbage.

IMOGEN	What, dear sir,
	Thus raps you? Are you well?

IACHIMO	Thanks, madam; well.

	[To PISANIO]

		 Beseech you, sir, desire
	My man's abode where I did leave him: he
	Is strange and peevish.

PISANIO	I was going, sir,
	To give him welcome.

	[Exit]

IMOGEN	Continues well my lord? His health, beseech you?

IACHIMO	Well, madam.

IMOGEN	Is he disposed to mirth? I hope he is.

IACHIMO	Exceeding pleasant; none a stranger there
	So merry and so gamesome: he is call'd
	The Briton reveller.

IMOGEN	When he was here,
	He did incline to sadness, and oft-times
	Not knowing why.

IACHIMO	                  I never saw him sad.
	There is a Frenchman his companion, one
	An eminent monsieur, that, it seems, much loves
	A Gallian girl at home; he furnaces
	The thick sighs from him, whiles the jolly Briton--
	Your lord, I mean--laughs from's free lungs, cries 'O,
	Can my sides hold, to think that man, who knows
	By history, report, or his own proof,
	What woman is, yea, what she cannot choose
	But must be, will his free hours languish for
	Assured bondage?'

IMOGEN	                  Will my lord say so?

IACHIMO	Ay, madam, with his eyes in flood with laughter:
	It is a recreation to be by
	And hear him mock the Frenchman. But, heavens know,
	Some men are much to blame.

IMOGEN	Not he, I hope.

IACHIMO	Not he: but yet heaven's bounty towards him might
	Be used more thankfully. In himself, 'tis much;
	In you, which I account his beyond all talents,
	Whilst I am bound to wonder, I am bound
	To pity too.

IMOGEN	                  What do you pity, sir?

IACHIMO	Two creatures heartily.

IMOGEN	Am I one, sir?
	You look on me: what wreck discern you in me
	Deserves your pity?

IACHIMO	Lamentable! What,
	To hide me from the radiant sun and solace
	I' the dungeon by a snuff?

IMOGEN	I pray you, sir,
	Deliver with more openness your answers
	To my demands. Why do you pity me?

IACHIMO	That others do--
	I was about to say--enjoy your--But
	It is an office of the gods to venge it,
	Not mine to speak on 't.

IMOGEN	You do seem to know
	Something of me, or what concerns me: pray you,--
	Since doubling things go ill often hurts more
	Than to be sure they do; for certainties
	Either are past remedies, or, timely knowing,
	The remedy then born--discover to me
	What both you spur and stop.

IACHIMO	Had I this cheek
	To bathe my lips upon; this hand, whose touch,
	Whose every touch, would force the feeler's soul
	To the oath of loyalty; this object, which
	Takes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye,
	Fixing it only here; should I, damn'd then,
	Slaver with lips as common as the stairs
	That mount the Capitol; join gripes with hands
	Made hard with hourly falsehood--falsehood, as
	With labour; then by-peeping in an eye
	Base and unlustrous as the smoky light
	That's fed with stinking tallow; it were fit
	That all the plagues of hell should at one time
	Encounter such revolt.

IMOGEN	My lord, I fear,
	Has forgot Britain.

IACHIMO	And himself. Not I,
	Inclined to this intelligence, pronounce
	The beggary of his change; but 'tis your graces
	That from pay mutest conscience to my tongue
	Charms this report out.

IMOGEN	Let me hear no more.

IACHIMO	O dearest soul! your cause doth strike my heart
	With pity, that doth make me sick. A lady
	So fair, and fasten'd to an empery,
	Would make the great'st king double,--to be partner'd
	With tomboys hired with that self-exhibition
	Which your own coffers yield! with diseased ventures
	That play with all infirmities for gold
	Which rottenness can lend nature! such boil'd stuff
	As well might poison poison! Be revenged;
	Or she that bore you was no queen, and you
	Recoil from your great stock.

IMOGEN	Revenged!
	How should I be revenged? If this be true,--
	As I have such a heart that both mine ears
	Must not in haste abuse--if it be true,
	How should I be revenged?

IACHIMO	Should he make me
	Live, like Diana's priest, betwixt cold sheets,
	Whiles he is vaulting variable ramps,
	In your despite, upon your purse? Revenge it.
	I dedicate myself to your sweet pleasure,
	More noble than that runagate to your bed,
	And will continue fast to your affection,
	Still close as sure.

IMOGEN	What, ho, Pisanio!

IACHIMO	Let me my service tender on your lips.

IMOGEN	Away! I do condemn mine ears that have
	So long attended thee. If thou wert honourable,
	Thou wouldst have told this tale for virtue, not
	For such an end thou seek'st,--as base as strange.
	Thou wrong'st a gentleman, who is as far
	From thy report as thou from honour, and
	Solicit'st here a lady that disdains
	Thee and the devil alike. What ho, Pisanio!
	The king my father shall be made acquainted
	Of thy assault: if he shall think it fit,
	A saucy stranger in his court to mart
	As in a Romish stew and to expound
	His beastly mind to us, he hath a court
	He little cares for and a daughter who
	He not respects at all. What, ho, Pisanio!

IACHIMO	O happy Leonatus! I may say
	The credit that thy lady hath of thee
	Deserves thy trust, and thy most perfect goodness
	Her assured credit. Blessed live you long!
	A lady to the worthiest sir that ever
	Country call'd his! and you his mistress, only
	For the most worthiest fit! Give me your pardon.
	I have spoke this, to know if your affiance
	Were deeply rooted; and shall make your lord,
	That which he is, new o'er: and he is one
	The truest manner'd; such a holy witch
	That he enchants societies into him;
	Half all men's hearts are his.

IMOGEN	You make amends.

IACHIMO	He sits 'mongst men like a descended god:
	He hath a kind of honour sets him off,
	More than a mortal seeming. Be not angry,
	Most mighty princess, that I have adventured
	To try your taking a false report; which hath
	Honour'd with confirmation your great judgment
	In the election of a sir so rare,
	Which you know cannot err: the love I bear him
	Made me to fan you thus, but the gods made you,
	Unlike all others, chaffless. Pray, your pardon.

IMOGEN	All's well, sir: take my power i' the court
	for yours.

IACHIMO	My humble thanks. I had almost forgot
	To entreat your grace but in a small request,
	And yet of moment to, for it concerns
	Your lord; myself and other noble friends,
	Are partners in the business.

IMOGEN	Pray, what is't?

IACHIMO	Some dozen Romans of us and your lord--
	The best feather of our wing--have mingled sums
	To buy a present for the emperor
	Which I, the factor for the rest, have done
	In France: 'tis plate of rare device, and jewels
	Of rich and exquisite form; their values great;
	And I am something curious, being strange,
	To have them in safe stowage: may it please you
	To take them in protection?

IMOGEN	Willingly;
	And pawn mine honour for their safety: since
	My lord hath interest in them, I will keep them
	In my bedchamber.

IACHIMO	They are in a trunk,
	Attended by my men: I will make bold
	To send them to you, only for this night;
	I must aboard to-morrow.

IMOGEN	O, no, no.

IACHIMO	Yes, I beseech; or I shall short my word
	By lengthening my return. From Gallia
	I cross'd the seas on purpose and on promise
	To see your grace.

IMOGEN	I thank you for your pains:
	But not away to-morrow!

IACHIMO	O, I must, madam:
	Therefore I shall beseech you, if you please
	To greet your lord with writing, do't to-night:
	I have outstood my time; which is material
	To the tender of our present.

IMOGEN	I will write.
	Send your trunk to me; it shall safe be kept,
	And truly yielded you. You're very welcome.

	[Exeunt]




	CYMBELINE


ACT II



SCENE I	Britain. Before Cymbeline's palace.


	[Enter CLOTEN and two Lords]

CLOTEN	Was there ever man had such luck! when I kissed the
	jack, upon an up-cast to be hit away! I had a
	hundred pound on't: and then a whoreson jackanapes
	must take me up for swearing; as if I borrowed mine
	oaths of him and might not spend them at my pleasure.

First Lord	What got he by that? You have broke his pate with
	your bowl.

Second Lord	[Aside]  If his wit had been like him that broke it,
	it would have run all out.

CLOTEN	When a gentleman is disposed to swear, it is not for
	any standers-by to curtail his oaths, ha?

Second Lord	No my lord;

	[Aside]

	nor crop the ears of them.

CLOTEN	Whoreson dog! I give him satisfaction?
	Would he had been one of my rank!

Second Lord	[Aside]  To have smelt like a fool.

CLOTEN	I am not vexed more at any thing in the earth: a
	pox on't! I had rather not be so noble as I am;
	they dare not fight with me, because of the queen my
	mother: every Jack-slave hath his bellyful of
	fighting, and I must go up and down like a cock that
	nobody can match.

Second Lord	[Aside]  You are cock and capon too; and you crow,
	cock, with your comb on.

CLOTEN	Sayest thou?

Second Lord	It is not fit your lordship should undertake every
	companion that you give offence to.

CLOTEN	No, I know that: but it is fit I should commit
	offence to my inferiors.

Second Lord	Ay, it is fit for your lordship only.

CLOTEN	Why, so I say.

First Lord	Did you hear of a stranger that's come to court to-night?

CLOTEN	A stranger, and I not know on't!

Second Lord	[Aside]  He's a strange fellow himself, and knows it
	not.

First Lord	There's an Italian come; and, 'tis thought, one of
	Leonatus' friends.

CLOTEN	Leonatus! a banished rascal; and he's another,
	whatsoever he be. Who told you of this stranger?

First Lord	One of your lordship's pages.

CLOTEN	Is it fit I went to look upon him? is there no
	derogation in't?

Second Lord	You cannot derogate, my lord.

CLOTEN	Not easily, I think.

Second Lord	[Aside]  You are a fool granted; therefore your
	issues, being foolish, do not derogate.

CLOTEN	Come, I'll go see this Italian: what I have lost
	to-day at bowls I'll win to-night of him. Come, go.

Second Lord	I'll attend your lordship.

	[Exeunt CLOTEN and First Lord]

	That such a crafty devil as is his mother
	Should yield the world this ass! a woman that
	Bears all down with her brain; and this her son
	Cannot take two from twenty, for his heart,
	And leave eighteen. Alas, poor princess,
	Thou divine Imogen, what thou endurest,
	Betwixt a father by thy step-dame govern'd,
	A mother hourly coining plots, a wooer
	More hateful than the foul expulsion is
	Of thy dear husband, than that horrid act
	Of the divorce he'ld make! The heavens hold firm
	The walls of thy dear honour, keep unshaked
	That temple, thy fair mind, that thou mayst stand,
	To enjoy thy banish'd lord and this great land!

	[Exit]




	CYMBELINE


ACT II



SCENE II	Imogen's bedchamber in Cymbeline's palace:
	a trunk in one corner of it.


	[IMOGEN in bed, reading; a Lady attending]

IMOGEN	Who's there? my woman Helen?

Lady	Please you, madam

IMOGEN	What hour is it?

Lady	                  Almost midnight, madam.

IMOGEN	I have read three hours then: mine eyes are weak:
	Fold down the leaf where I have left: to bed:
	Take not away the taper, leave it burning;
	And if thou canst awake by four o' the clock,
	I prithee, call me. Sleep hath seized me wholly

	[Exit Lady]

	To your protection I commend me, gods.
	From fairies and the tempters of the night
	Guard me, beseech ye.

	[Sleeps. IACHIMO comes from the trunk]

IACHIMO	The crickets sing, and man's o'er-labour'd sense
	Repairs itself by rest. Our Tarquin thus
	Did softly press the rushes, ere he waken'd
	The chastity he wounded. Cytherea,
	How bravely thou becomest thy bed, fresh lily,
	And whiter than the sheets! That I might touch!
	But kiss; one kiss! Rubies unparagon'd,
	How dearly they do't! 'Tis her breathing that
	Perfumes the chamber thus: the flame o' the taper
	Bows toward her, and would under-peep her lids,
	To see the enclosed lights, now canopied
	Under these windows, white and azure laced
	With blue of heaven's own tinct. But my design,
	To note the chamber: I will write all down:
	Such and such pictures; there the window; such
	The adornment of her bed; the arras; figures,
	Why, such and such; and the contents o' the story.
	Ah, but some natural notes about her body,
	Above ten thousand meaner moveables
	Would testify, to enrich mine inventory.
	O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her!
	And be her sense but as a monument,
	Thus in a chapel lying! Come off, come off:

	[Taking off her bracelet]

	As slippery as the Gordian knot was hard!
	'Tis mine; and this will witness outwardly,
	As strongly as the conscience does within,
	To the madding of her lord. On her left breast
	A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops
	I' the bottom of a cowslip: here's a voucher,
	Stronger than ever law could make: this secret
	Will force him think I have pick'd the lock and ta'en
	The treasure of her honour. No more. To what end?
	Why should I write this down, that's riveted,
	Screw'd to my memory? She hath been reading late
	The tale of Tereus; here the leaf's turn'd down
	Where Philomel gave up. I have enough:
	To the trunk again, and shut the spring of it.
	Swift, swift, you dragons of the night, that dawning
	May bare the raven's eye! I lodge in fear;
	Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here.

	[Clock strikes]

	One, two, three: time, time!

	[Goes into the trunk. The scene closes]




	CYMBELINE


ACT II



Scene III	An ante-chamber adjoining Imogen's apartments.


	[Enter CLOTEN and Lords]

First Lord	Your lordship is the most patient man in loss, the
	most coldest that ever turned up ace.

CLOTEN	It would make any man cold to lose.

First Lord	But not every man patient after the noble temper of
	your lordship. You are most hot and furious when you win.

CLOTEN	Winning will put any man into courage. If I could
	get this foolish Imogen, I should have gold enough.
	It's almost morning, is't not?

First Lord	Day, my lord.

CLOTEN	I would this music would come: I am advised to give
	her music o' mornings; they say it will penetrate.

	[Enter Musicians]

	Come on; tune: if you can penetrate her with your
	fingering, so; we'll try with tongue too: if none
	will do, let her remain; but I'll never give o'er.
	First, a very excellent good-conceited thing;
	after, a wonderful sweet air, with admirable rich
	words to it: and then let her consider.
	[SONG]

	Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,
	And Phoebus 'gins arise,
	His steeds to water at those springs
	On chaliced flowers that lies;
	And winking Mary-buds begin
	To ope their golden eyes:
	With every thing that pretty is,
	My lady sweet, arise:
	Arise, arise.

CLOTEN	So, get you gone. If this penetrate, I will
	consider your music the better: if it do not, it is
	a vice in her ears, which horse-hairs and
	calves'-guts, nor the voice of unpaved eunuch to
	boot, can never amend.

	[Exeunt Musicians]

Second Lord	Here comes the king.

CLOTEN	I am glad I was up so late; for that's the reason I
	was up so early: he cannot choose but take this
	service I have done fatherly.

	[Enter CYMBELINE and QUEEN]

	Good morrow to your majesty and to my gracious mother.

CYMBELINE	Attend you here the door of our stern daughter?
	Will she not forth?

CLOTEN	I have assailed her with music, but she vouchsafes no notice.

CYMBELINE	The exile of her minion is too new;
	She hath not yet forgot him: some more time
	Must wear the print of his remembrance out,
	And then she's yours.

QUEEN	You are most bound to the king,
	Who lets go by no vantages that may
	Prefer you to his daughter. Frame yourself
	To orderly soliciting, and be friended
	With aptness of the season; make denials
	Increase your services; so seem as if
	You were inspired to do those duties which
	You tender to her; that you in all obey her,
	Save when command to your dismission tends,
	And therein you are senseless.

CLOTEN	Senseless! not so.

	[Enter a Messenger]

Messenger	So like you, sir, ambassadors from Rome;
	The one is Caius Lucius.

CYMBELINE	A worthy fellow,
	Albeit he comes on angry purpose now;
	But that's no fault of his: we must receive him
	According to the honour of his sender;
	And towards himself, his goodness forespent on us,
	We must extend our notice. Our dear son,
	When you have given good morning to your mistress,
	Attend the queen and us; we shall have need
	To employ you towards this Roman. Come, our queen.

	[Exeunt all but CLOTEN]

CLOTEN	If she be up, I'll speak with her; if not,
	Let her lie still and dream.

	[Knocks]

		       By your leave, ho!
	I Know her women are about her: what
	If I do line one of their hands? 'Tis gold
	Which buys admittance; oft it doth; yea, and makes
	Diana's rangers false themselves, yield up
	Their deer to the stand o' the stealer; and 'tis gold
	Which makes the true man kill'd and saves the thief;
	Nay, sometime hangs both thief and true man: what
	Can it not do and undo? I will make
	One of her women lawyer to me, for
	I yet not understand the case myself.

	[Knocks]

	By your leave.

	[Enter a Lady]

Lady	Who's there that knocks?

CLOTEN	A gentleman.

Lady	No more?

CLOTEN	Yes, and a gentlewoman's son.

Lady	That's more
	Than some, whose tailors are as dear as yours,
	Can justly boast of. What's your lordship's pleasure?

CLOTEN	Your lady's person: is she ready?

Lady	Ay,
	To keep her chamber.

CLOTEN	There is gold for you;
	Sell me your good report.

Lady	How! my good name? or to report of you
	What I shall think is good?--The princess!

	[Enter IMOGEN]

CLOTEN	Good morrow, fairest: sister, your sweet hand.

	[Exit Lady]

IMOGEN	Good morrow, sir. You lay out too much pains
	For purchasing but trouble; the thanks I give
	Is telling you that I am poor of thanks
	And scarce can spare them.

CLOTEN	Still, I swear I love you.

IMOGEN	If you but said so, 'twere as deep with me:
	If you swear still, your recompense is still
	That I regard it not.

CLOTEN	This is no answer.

IMOGEN	But that you shall not say I yield being silent,
	I would not speak. I pray you, spare me: 'faith,
	I shall unfold equal discourtesy
	To your best kindness: one of your great knowing
	Should learn, being taught, forbearance.

CLOTEN	To leave you in your madness, 'twere my sin:
	I will not.

IMOGEN	          Fools are not mad folks.

CLOTEN	Do you call me fool?

IMOGEN	As I am mad, I do:
	If you'll be patient, I'll no more be mad;
	That cures us both. I am much sorry, sir,
	You put me to forget a lady's manners,
	By being so verbal: and learn now, for all,
	That I, which know my heart, do here pronounce,
	By the very truth of it, I care not for you,
	And am so near the lack of charity--
	To accuse myself--I hate you; which I had rather
	You felt than make't my boast.

CLOTEN	You sin against
	Obedience, which you owe your father. For
	The contract you pretend with that base wretch,
	One bred of alms and foster'd with cold dishes,
	With scraps o' the court, it is no contract, none:
	And though it be allow'd in meaner parties--
	Yet who than he more mean?--to knit their souls,
	On whom there is no more dependency
	But brats and beggary, in self-figured knot;
	Yet you are curb'd from that enlargement by
	The consequence o' the crown, and must not soil
	The precious note of it with a base slave.
	A hilding for a livery, a squire's cloth,
	A pantler, not so eminent.

IMOGEN	Profane fellow
	Wert thou the son of Jupiter and no more
	But what thou art besides, thou wert too base
	To be his groom: thou wert dignified enough,
	Even to the point of envy, if 'twere made
	Comparative for your virtues, to be styled
	The under-hangman of his kingdom, and hated
	For being preferred so well.

CLOTEN	The south-fog rot him!

IMOGEN	He never can meet more mischance than come
	To be but named of thee. His meanest garment,
	That ever hath but clipp'd his body, is dearer
	In my respect than all the hairs above thee,
	Were they all made such men. How now, Pisanio!

	[Enter PISANIO]

CLOTEN	'His garment!' Now the devil--

IMOGEN	To Dorothy my woman hie thee presently--

CLOTEN	'His garment!'

IMOGEN	                  I am sprited with a fool.
	Frighted, and anger'd worse: go bid my woman
	Search for a jewel that too casually
	Hath left mine arm: it was thy master's: 'shrew me,
	If I would lose it for a revenue
	Of any king's in Europe. I do think
	I saw't this morning: confident I am
	Last night 'twas on mine arm; I kiss'd it:
	I hope it be not gone to tell my lord
	That I kiss aught but he.

PISANIO	'Twill not be lost.

IMOGEN	I hope so: go and search.

	[Exit PISANIO]

CLOTEN	You have abused me:
	'His meanest garment!'

IMOGEN	Ay, I said so, sir:
	If you will make't an action, call witness to't.

CLOTEN	I will inform your father.

IMOGEN	Your mother too:
	She's my good lady, and will conceive, I hope,
	But the worst of me. So, I leave you, sir,
	To the worst of discontent.

	[Exit]

CLOTEN	I'll be revenged:
	'His meanest garment!' Well.

	[Exit]



CYMBELINE


ACT II



SCENE IV	Rome. Philario's house.


	[Enter POSTHUMUS and PHILARIO]

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	Fear it not, sir: I would I were so sure
	To win the king as I am bold her honour
	Will remain hers.

PHILARIO	                  What means do you make to him?

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	Not any, but abide the change of time,
	Quake in the present winter's state and wish
	That warmer days would come: in these sear'd hopes,
	I barely gratify your love; they failing,
	I must die much your debtor.

PHILARIO	Your very goodness and your company
	O'erpays all I can do. By this, your king
	Hath heard of great Augustus: Caius Lucius
	Will do's commission throughly: and I think
	He'll grant the tribute, send the arrearages,
	Or look upon our Romans, whose remembrance
	Is yet fresh in their grief.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	I do believe,
	Statist though I am none, nor like to be,
	That this will prove a war; and you shall hear
	The legions now in Gallia sooner landed
	In our not-fearing Britain than have tidings
	Of any penny tribute paid. Our countrymen
	Are men more order'd than when Julius Caesar
	Smiled at their lack of skill, but found
	their courage
	Worthy his frowning at: their discipline,
	Now mingled with their courages, will make known
	To their approvers they are people such
	That mend upon the world.

	[Enter IACHIMO]

PHILARIO	See! Iachimo!

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	The swiftest harts have posted you by land;
	And winds of all the comers kiss'd your sails,
	To make your vessel nimble.

PHILARIO	Welcome, sir.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	I hope the briefness of your answer made
	The speediness of your return.

IACHIMO	Your lady
	Is one of the fairest that I have look'd upon.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	And therewithal the best; or let her beauty
	Look through a casement to allure false hearts
	And be false with them.

IACHIMO	Here are letters for you.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	Their tenor good, I trust.

IACHIMO	'Tis very like.

PHILARIO	Was Caius Lucius in the Britain court
	When you were there?

IACHIMO	He was expected then,
	But not approach'd.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	All is well yet.
	Sparkles this stone as it was wont? or is't not
	Too dull for your good wearing?

IACHIMO	If I had lost it,
	I should have lost the worth of it in gold.
	I'll make a journey twice as far, to enjoy
	A second night of such sweet shortness which
	Was mine in Britain, for the ring is won.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	The stone's too hard to come by.

IACHIMO	Not a whit,
	Your lady being so easy.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	Make not, sir,
	Your loss your sport: I hope you know that we
	Must not continue friends.

IACHIMO	Good sir, we must,
	If you keep covenant. Had I not brought
	The knowledge of your mistress home, I grant
	We were to question further: but I now
	Profess myself the winner of her honour,
	Together with your ring; and not the wronger
	Of her or you, having proceeded but
	By both your wills.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	If you can make't apparent
	That you have tasted her in bed, my hand
	And ring is yours; if not, the foul opinion
	You had of her pure honour gains or loses
	Your sword or mine, or masterless leaves both
	To who shall find them.

IACHIMO	Sir, my circumstances,
	Being so near the truth as I will make them,
	Must first induce you to believe: whose strength
	I will confirm with oath; which, I doubt not,
	You'll give me leave to spare, when you shall find
	You need it not.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	                  Proceed.

IACHIMO	First, her bedchamber,--
	Where, I confess, I slept not, but profess
	Had that was well worth watching--it was hang'd
	With tapesty of silk and silver; the story
	Proud Cleopatra, when she met her Roman,
	And Cydnus swell'd above the banks, or for
	The press of boats or pride: a piece of work
	So bravely done, so rich, that it did strive
	In workmanship and value; which I wonder'd
	Could be so rarely and exactly wrought,
	Since the true life on't was--

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	This is true;
	And this you might have heard of here, by me,
	Or by some other.

IACHIMO	More particulars
	Must justify my knowledge.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	So they must,
	Or do your honour injury.

IACHIMO	The chimney
	Is south the chamber, and the chimney-piece
	Chaste Dian bathing: never saw I figures
	So likely to report themselves: the cutter
	Was as another nature, dumb; outwent her,
	Motion and breath left out.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	This is a thing
	Which you might from relation likewise reap,
	Being, as it is, much spoke of.

IACHIMO	The roof o' the chamber
	With golden cherubins is fretted: her andirons--
	I had forgot them--were two winking Cupids
	Of silver, each on one foot standing, nicely
	Depending on their brands.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	This is her honour!
	Let it be granted you have seen all this--and praise
	Be given to your remembrance--the description
	Of what is in her chamber nothing saves
	The wager you have laid.

IACHIMO	Then, if you can,

	[Showing the bracelet]

	Be pale: I beg but leave to air this jewel; see!
	And now 'tis up again: it must be married
	To that your diamond; I'll keep them.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	Jove!
	Once more let me behold it: is it that
	Which I left with her?

IACHIMO	Sir--I thank her--that:
	She stripp'd it from her arm; I see her yet;
	Her pretty action did outsell her gift,
	And yet enrich'd it too: she gave it me, and said
	She prized it once.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	May be she pluck'd it off
	To send it me.

IACHIMO	She writes so to you, doth she?

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	O, no, no, no! 'tis true. Here, take this too;

	[Gives the ring]

	It is a basilisk unto mine eye,
	Kills me to look on't. Let there be no honour
	Where there is beauty; truth, where semblance; love,
	Where there's another man: the vows of women
	Of no more bondage be, to where they are made,
	Than they are to their virtues; which is nothing.
	O, above measure false!

PHILARIO	Have patience, sir,
	And take your ring again; 'tis not yet won:
	It may be probable she lost it; or
	Who knows if one of her women, being corrupted,
	Hath stol'n it from her?

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	Very true;
	And so, I hope, he came by't. Back my ring:
	Render to me some corporal sign about her,
	More evident than this; for this was stolen.

IACHIMO	By Jupiter, I had it from her arm.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	Hark you, he swears; by Jupiter he swears.
	'Tis true:--nay, keep the ring--'tis true: I am sure
	She would not lose it: her attendants are
	All sworn and honourable:--they induced to steal it!
	And by a stranger!--No, he hath enjoyed her:
	The cognizance of her incontinency
	Is this: she hath bought the name of whore
	thus dearly.
	There, take thy hire; and all the fiends of hell
	Divide themselves between you!

PHILARIO	Sir, be patient:
	This is not strong enough to be believed
	Of one persuaded well of--

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	Never talk on't;
	She hath been colted by him.

IACHIMO	If you seek
	For further satisfying, under her breast--
	Worthy the pressing--lies a mole, right proud
	Of that most delicate lodging: by my life,
	I kiss'd it; and it gave me present hunger
	To feed again, though full. You do remember
	This stain upon her?

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	Ay, and it doth confirm
	Another stain, as big as hell can hold,
	Were there no more but it.

IACHIMO	Will you hear more?

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	Spare your arithmetic: never count the turns;
	Once, and a million!

IACHIMO	I'll be sworn--

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	No swearing.
	If you will swear you have not done't, you lie;
	And I will kill thee, if thou dost deny
	Thou'st made me cuckold.

IACHIMO	I'll deny nothing.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	O, that I had her here, to tear her limb-meal!
	I will go there and do't, i' the court, before
	Her father. I'll do something--

	[Exit]

PHILARIO	Quite besides
	The government of patience! You have won:
	Let's follow him, and pervert the present wrath
	He hath against himself.

IACHIMO	With an my heart.

	[Exeunt]




	CYMBELINE


ACT II



SCENE V	Another room in Philario's house.


	[Enter POSTHUMUS LEONATUS]

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	Is there no way for men to be but women
	Must be half-workers? We are all bastards;
	And that most venerable man which I
	Did call my father, was I know not where
	When I was stamp'd; some coiner with his tools
	Made me a counterfeit: yet my mother seem'd
	The Dian of that time so doth my wife
	The nonpareil of this. O, vengeance, vengeance!
	Me of my lawful pleasure she restrain'd
	And pray'd me oft forbearance; did it with
	A pudency so rosy the sweet view on't
	Might well have warm'd old Saturn; that I thought her
	As chaste as unsunn'd snow. O, all the devils!
	This yellow Iachimo, in an hour,--wast not?--
	Or less,--at first?--perchance he spoke not, but,
	Like a full-acorn'd boar, a German one,
	Cried 'O!' and mounted; found no opposition
	But what he look'd for should oppose and she
	Should from encounter guard. Could I find out
	The woman's part in me! For there's no motion
	That tends to vice in man, but I affirm
	It is the woman's part: be it lying, note it,
	The woman's; flattering, hers; deceiving, hers;
	Lust and rank thoughts, hers, hers; revenges, hers;
	Ambitions, covetings, change of prides, disdain,
	Nice longing, slanders, mutability,
	All faults that may be named, nay, that hell knows,
	Why, hers, in part or all; but rather, all;
	For even to vice
	They are not constant but are changing still
	One vice, but of a minute old, for one
	Not half so old as that. I'll write against them,
	Detest them, curse them: yet 'tis greater skill
	In a true hate, to pray they have their will:
	The very devils cannot plague them better.

	[Exit]




	CYMBELINE


ACT III



SCENE I	Britain. A hall in Cymbeline's palace.


	[Enter in state, CYMBELINE, QUEEN, CLOTEN,
	and Lords at one door, and at another,
	CAIUS LUCIUS and Attendants]

CYMBELINE	Now say, what would Augustus Caesar with us?

CAIUS LUCIUS	When Julius Caesar, whose remembrance yet
	Lives in men's eyes and will to ears and tongues
	Be theme and hearing ever, was in this Britain
	And conquer'd it, Cassibelan, thine uncle,--
	Famous in Caesar's praises, no whit less
	Than in his feats deserving it--for him
	And his succession granted Rome a tribute,
	Yearly three thousand pounds, which by thee lately
	Is left untender'd.

QUEEN	And, to kill the marvel,
	Shall be so ever.

CLOTEN	There be many Caesars,
	Ere such another Julius. Britain is
	A world by itself; and we will nothing pay
	For wearing our own noses.

QUEEN	That opportunity
	Which then they had to take from 's, to resume
	We have again. Remember, sir, my liege,
	The kings your ancestors, together with
	The natural bravery of your isle, which stands
	As Neptune's park, ribbed and paled in
	With rocks unscalable and roaring waters,
	With sands that will not bear your enemies' boats,
	But suck them up to the topmast. A kind of conquest
	Caesar made here; but made not here his brag
	Of 'Came' and 'saw' and 'overcame: ' with shame--
	That first that ever touch'd him--he was carried
	From off our coast, twice beaten; and his shipping--
	Poor ignorant baubles!-- upon our terrible seas,
	Like egg-shells moved upon their surges, crack'd
	As easily 'gainst our rocks: for joy whereof
	The famed Cassibelan, who was once at point--
	O giglot fortune!--to master Caesar's sword,
	Made Lud's town with rejoicing fires bright
	And Britons strut with courage.

CLOTEN	Come, there's no more tribute to be paid: our
	kingdom is stronger than it was at that time; and,
	as I said, there is no moe such Caesars: other of
	them may have crook'd noses, but to owe such
	straight arms, none.

CYMBELINE	Son, let your mother end.

CLOTEN	We have yet many among us can gripe as hard as
	Cassibelan: I do not say I am one; but I have a
	hand. Why tribute? why should we pay tribute? If
	Caesar can hide the sun from us with a blanket, or
	put the moon in his pocket, we will pay him tribute
	for light; else, sir, no more tribute, pray you now.

CYMBELINE	You must know,
	Till the injurious Romans did extort
	This tribute from us, we were free:
	Caesar's ambition,
	Which swell'd so much that it did almost stretch
	The sides o' the world, against all colour here
	Did put the yoke upon 's; which to shake off
	Becomes a warlike people, whom we reckon
	Ourselves to be.

CLOTEN	|
	|                We do.
Lords	|

CYMBELINE	Say, then, to Caesar,
	Our ancestor was that Mulmutius which
	Ordain'd our laws, whose use the sword of Caesar
	Hath too much mangled; whose repair and franchise
	Shall, by the power we hold, be our good deed,
	Though Rome be therefore angry: Mulmutius made our laws,
	Who was the first of Britain which did put
	His brows within a golden crown and call'd
	Himself a king.

CAIUS LUCIUS	                  I am sorry, Cymbeline,
	That I am to pronounce Augustus Caesar--
	Caesar, that hath more kings his servants than
	Thyself domestic officers--thine enemy:
	Receive it from me, then: war and confusion
	In Caesar's name pronounce I 'gainst thee: look
	For fury not to be resisted. Thus defied,
	I thank thee for myself.

CYMBELINE	Thou art welcome, Caius.
	Thy Caesar knighted me; my youth I spent
	Much under him; of him I gather'd honour;
	Which he to seek of me again, perforce,
	Behoves me keep at utterance. I am perfect
	That the Pannonians and Dalmatians for
	Their liberties are now in arms; a precedent
	Which not to read would show the Britons cold:
	So Caesar shall not find them.

CAIUS LUCIUS	Let proof speak.

CLOTEN	His majesty bids you welcome. Make
	pastime with us a day or two, or longer: if
	you seek us afterwards in other terms, you
	shall find us in our salt-water girdle: if you
	beat us out of it, it is yours; if you fall in
	the adventure, our crows shall fare the better
	for you; and there's an end.

CAIUS LUCIUS	So, sir.

CYMBELINE	I know your master's pleasure and he mine:
	All the remain is 'Welcome!'

	[Exeunt]




	CYMBELINE


ACT III



SCENE II	Another room in the palace.


	[Enter PISANIO, with a letter]

PISANIO	How? of adultery? Wherefore write you not
	What monster's her accuser? Leonatus,
	O master! what a strange infection
	Is fall'n into thy ear! What false Italian,
	As poisonous-tongued as handed, hath prevail'd
	On thy too ready hearing? Disloyal! No:
	She's punish'd for her truth, and undergoes,
	More goddess-like than wife-like, such assaults
	As would take in some virtue. O my master!
	Thy mind to her is now as low as were
	Thy fortunes. How! that I should murder her?
	Upon the love and truth and vows which I
	Have made to thy command? I, her? her blood?
	If it be so to do good service, never
	Let me be counted serviceable. How look I,
	That I should seem to lack humanity
	so much as this fact comes to?

	[Reading]

		'Do't: the letter
	that I have sent her, by her own command
	Shall give thee opportunity.' O damn'd paper!
	Black as the ink that's on thee! Senseless bauble,
	Art thou a feodary for this act, and look'st
	So virgin-like without? Lo, here she comes.
	I am ignorant in what I am commanded.

	[Enter IMOGEN]

IMOGEN	How now, Pisanio!

PISANIO	Madam, here is a letter from my lord.

IMOGEN	Who? thy lord? that is my lord, Leonatus!
	O, learn'd indeed were that astronomer
	That knew the stars as I his characters;
	He'ld lay the future open. You good gods,
	Let what is here contain'd relish of love,
	Of my lord's health, of his content, yet not
	That we two are asunder; let that grieve him:
	Some griefs are med'cinable; that is one of them,
	For it doth physic love: of his content,
	All but in that! Good wax, thy leave. Blest be
	You bees that make these locks of counsel! Lovers
	And men in dangerous bonds pray not alike:
	Though forfeiters you cast in prison, yet
	You clasp young Cupid's tables. Good news, gods!

	[Reads]

	'Justice, and your father's wrath, should he take me
	in his dominion, could not be so cruel to me, as
	you, O the dearest of creatures, would even renew me
	with your eyes. Take notice that I am in Cambria,
	at Milford-Haven: what your own love will out of
	this advise you, follow. So he wishes you all
	happiness, that remains loyal to his vow, and your,
	increasing in love,
		        LEONATUS POSTHUMUS.'
	O, for a horse with wings! Hear'st thou, Pisanio?
	He is at Milford-Haven: read, and tell me
	How far 'tis thither. If one of mean affairs
	May plod it in a week, why may not I
	Glide thither in a day? Then, true Pisanio,--
	Who long'st, like me, to see thy lord; who long'st,--
	let me bate,-but not like me--yet long'st,
	But in a fainter kind:--O, not like me;
	For mine's beyond beyond--say, and speak thick;
	Love's counsellor should fill the bores of hearing,
	To the smothering of the sense--how far it is
	To this same blessed Milford: and by the way
	Tell me how Wales was made so happy as
	To inherit such a haven: but first of all,
	How we may steal from hence, and for the gap
	That we shall make in time, from our hence-going
	And our return, to excuse: but first, how get hence:
	Why should excuse be born or e'er begot?
	We'll talk of that hereafter. Prithee, speak,
	How many score of miles may we well ride
	'Twixt hour and hour?

PISANIO	One score 'twixt sun and sun,
	Madam, 's enough for you:

	[Aside]

		     and too much too.

IMOGEN	Why, one that rode to's execution, man,
	Could never go so slow: I have heard of
	riding wagers,
	Where horses have been nimbler than the sands
	That run i' the clock's behalf. But this is foolery:
	Go bid my woman feign a sickness; say
	She'll home to her father: and provide me presently
	A riding-suit, no costlier than would fit
	A franklin's housewife.

PISANIO	Madam, you're best consider.

IMOGEN	I see before me, man: nor here, nor here,
	Nor what ensues, but have a fog in them,
	That I cannot look through. Away, I prithee;
	Do as I bid thee: there's no more to say,
	Accessible is none but Milford way.

	[Exeunt]




	CYMBELINE


ACT III



SCENE III	Wales: a mountainous country with a cave.


	[Enter, from the cave, BELARIUS; GUIDERIUS,
	and ARVIRAGUS following]

BELARIUS	A goodly day not to keep house, with such
	Whose roof's as low as ours! Stoop, boys; this gate
	Instructs you how to adore the heavens and bows you
	To a morning's holy office: the gates of monarchs
	Are arch'd so high that giants may jet through
	And keep their impious turbans on, without
	Good morrow to the sun. Hail, thou fair heaven!
	We house i' the rock, yet use thee not so hardly
	As prouder livers do.

GUIDERIUS	Hail, heaven!

ARVIRAGUS	Hail, heaven!

BELARIUS	Now for our mountain sport: up to yond hill;
	Your legs are young; I'll tread these flats. Consider,
	When you above perceive me like a crow,
	That it is place which lessens and sets off;
	And you may then revolve what tales I have told you
	Of courts, of princes, of the tricks in war:
	This service is not service, so being done,
	But being so allow'd: to apprehend thus,
	Draws us a profit from all things we see;
	And often, to our comfort, shall we find
	The sharded beetle in a safer hold
	Than is the full-wing'd eagle. O, this life
	Is nobler than attending for a cheque,
	Richer than doing nothing for a bauble,
	Prouder than rustling in unpaid-for silk:
	Such gain the cap of him that makes 'em fine,
	Yet keeps his book uncross'd: no life to ours.

GUIDERIUS	Out of your proof you speak: we, poor unfledged,
	Have never wing'd from view o' the nest, nor know not
	What air's from home. Haply this life is best,
	If quiet life be best; sweeter to you
	That have a sharper known; well corresponding
	With your stiff age: but unto us it is
	A cell of ignorance; travelling a-bed;
	A prison for a debtor, that not dares
	To stride a limit.

ARVIRAGUS	                  What should we speak of
	When we are old as you? when we shall hear
	The rain and wind beat dark December, how,
	In this our pinching cave, shall we discourse
	The freezing hours away? We have seen nothing;
	We are beastly, subtle as the fox for prey,
	Like warlike as the wolf for what we eat;
	Our valour is to chase what flies; our cage
	We make a quire, as doth the prison'd bird,
	And sing our bondage freely.

BELARIUS	How you speak!
	Did you but know the city's usuries
	And felt them knowingly; the art o' the court
	As hard to leave as keep; whose top to climb
	Is certain falling, or so slippery that
	The fear's as bad as falling; the toil o' the war,
	A pain that only seems to seek out danger
	I' the name of fame and honour; which dies i'
	the search,
	And hath as oft a slanderous epitaph
	As record of fair act; nay, many times,
	Doth ill deserve by doing well; what's worse,
	Must court'sy at the censure:--O boys, this story
	The world may read in me: my body's mark'd
	With Roman swords, and my report was once
	First with the best of note: Cymbeline loved me,
	And when a soldier was the theme, my name
	Was not far off: then was I as a tree
	Whose boughs did bend with fruit: but in one night,
	A storm or robbery, call it what you will,
	Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves,
	And left me bare to weather.

GUIDERIUS	Uncertain favour!

BELARIUS	My fault being nothing--as I have told you oft--
	But that two villains, whose false oaths prevail'd
	Before my perfect honour, swore to Cymbeline
	I was confederate with the Romans: so
	Follow'd my banishment, and this twenty years
	This rock and these demesnes have been my world;
	Where I have lived at honest freedom, paid
	More pious debts to heaven than in all
	The fore-end of my time. But up to the mountains!
	This is not hunters' language: he that strikes
	The venison first shall be the lord o' the feast;
	To him the other two shall minister;
	And we will fear no poison, which attends
	In place of greater state. I'll meet you in the valleys.

	[Exeunt GUIDERIUS and ARVIRAGUS]

	How hard it is to hide the sparks of nature!
	These boys know little they are sons to the king;
	Nor Cymbeline dreams that they are alive.
	They think they are mine; and though train'd
	up thus meanly
	I' the cave wherein they bow, their thoughts do hit
	The roofs of palaces, and nature prompts them
	In simple and low things to prince it much
	Beyond the trick of others. This Polydore,
	The heir of Cymbeline and Britain, who
	The king his father call'd Guiderius,--Jove!
	When on my three-foot stool I sit and tell
	The warlike feats I have done, his spirits fly out
	Into my story: say 'Thus, mine enemy fell,
	And thus I set my foot on 's neck;' even then
	The princely blood flows in his cheek, he sweats,
	Strains his young nerves and puts himself in posture
	That acts my words. The younger brother, Cadwal,
	Once Arviragus, in as like a figure,
	Strikes life into my speech and shows much more
	His own conceiving.--Hark, the game is roused!
	O Cymbeline! heaven and my conscience knows
	Thou didst unjustly banish me: whereon,
	At three and two years old, I stole these babes;
	Thinking to bar thee of succession, as
	Thou reft'st me of my lands. Euriphile,
	Thou wast their nurse; they took thee for
	their mother,
	And every day do honour to her grave:
	Myself, Belarius, that am Morgan call'd,
	They take for natural father. The game is up.

	[Exit]




	CYMBELINE


ACT III



SCENE IV	Country near Milford-Haven.


	[Enter PISANIO and IMOGEN]

IMOGEN	Thou told'st me, when we came from horse, the place
	Was near at hand: ne'er long'd my mother so
	To see me first, as I have now. Pisanio! man!
	Where is Posthumus? What is in thy mind,
	That makes thee stare thus? Wherefore breaks that sigh
	From the inward of thee? One, but painted thus,
	Would be interpreted a thing perplex'd
	Beyond self-explication: put thyself
	Into a havior of less fear, ere wildness
	Vanquish my staider senses. What's the matter?
	Why tender'st thou that paper to me, with
	A look untender? If't be summer news,
	Smile to't before; if winterly, thou need'st
	But keep that countenance still. My husband's hand!
	That drug-damn'd Italy hath out-craftied him,
	And he's at some hard point. Speak, man: thy tongue
	May take off some extremity, which to read
	Would be even mortal to me.

PISANIO	Please you, read;
	And you shall find me, wretched man, a thing
	The most disdain'd of fortune.

IMOGEN	[Reads]  'Thy mistress, Pisanio, hath played the
	strumpet in my bed; the testimonies whereof lie
	bleeding in me. I speak not out of weak surmises,
	but from proof as strong as my grief and as certain
	as I expect my revenge. That part thou, Pisanio,
	must act for me, if thy faith be not tainted with
	the breach of hers. Let thine own hands take away
	her life: I shall give thee opportunity at
	Milford-Haven. She hath my letter for the purpose
	where, if thou fear to strike and to make me certain
	it is done, thou art the pandar to her dishonour and
	equally to me disloyal.'

PISANIO	What shall I need to draw my sword? the paper
	Hath cut her throat already. No, 'tis slander,
	Whose edge is sharper than the sword, whose tongue
	Outvenoms all the worms of Nile, whose breath
	Rides on the posting winds and doth belie
	All corners of the world: kings, queens and states,
	Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave
	This viperous slander enters. What cheer, madam?

IMOGEN	False to his bed! What is it to be false?
	To lie in watch there and to think on him?
	To weep 'twixt clock and clock? if sleep
	charge nature,
	To break it with a fearful dream of him
	And cry myself awake? that's false to's bed, is it?

PISANIO	Alas, good lady!

IMOGEN	I false! Thy conscience witness: Iachimo,
	Thou didst accuse him of incontinency;
	Thou then look'dst like a villain; now methinks
	Thy favour's good enough. Some jay of Italy
	Whose mother was her painting, hath betray'd him:
	Poor I am stale, a garment out of fashion;
	And, for I am richer than to hang by the walls,
	I must be ripp'd:--to pieces with me!--O,
	Men's vows are women's traitors! All good seeming,
	By thy revolt, O husband, shall be thought
	Put on for villany; not born where't grows,
	But worn a bait for ladies.

PISANIO	Good madam, hear me.

IMOGEN	True honest men being heard, like false Aeneas,
	Were in his time thought false, and Sinon's weeping
	Did scandal many a holy tear, took pity
	From most true wretchedness: so thou, Posthumus,
	Wilt lay the leaven on all proper men;
	Goodly and gallant shall be false and perjured
	From thy great fall. Come, fellow, be thou honest:
	Do thou thy master's bidding: when thou see'st him,
	A little witness my obedience: look!
	I draw the sword myself: take it, and hit
	The innocent mansion of my love, my heart;
	Fear not; 'tis empty of all things but grief;
	Thy master is not there, who was indeed
	The riches of it: do his bidding; strike
	Thou mayst be valiant in a better cause;
	But now thou seem'st a coward.

PISANIO	Hence, vile instrument!
	Thou shalt not damn my hand.

IMOGEN	Why, I must die;
	And if I do not by thy hand, thou art
	No servant of thy master's. Against self-slaughter
	There is a prohibition so divine
	That cravens my weak hand. Come, here's my heart.
	Something's afore't. Soft, soft! we'll no defence;
	Obedient as the scabbard. What is here?
	The scriptures of the loyal Leonatus,
	All turn'd to heresy? Away, away,
	Corrupters of my faith! you shall no more
	Be stomachers to my heart. Thus may poor fools
	Believe false teachers: though those that
	are betray'd
	Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor
	Stands in worse case of woe.
	And thou, Posthumus, thou that didst set up
	My disobedience 'gainst the king my father
	And make me put into contempt the suits
	Of princely fellows, shalt hereafter find
	It is no act of common passage, but
	A strain of rareness: and I grieve myself
	To think, when thou shalt be disedged by her
	That now thou tirest on, how thy memory
	Will then be pang'd by me. Prithee, dispatch:
	The lamb entreats the butcher: where's thy knife?
	Thou art too slow to do thy master's bidding,
	When I desire it too.

PISANIO	O gracious lady,
	Since I received command to do this business
	I have not slept one wink.

IMOGEN	Do't, and to bed then.

PISANIO	I'll wake mine eye-balls blind first.

IMOGEN	Wherefore then
	Didst undertake it? Why hast thou abused
	So many miles with a pretence? this place?
	Mine action and thine own? our horses' labour?
	The time inviting thee? the perturb'd court,
	For my being absent? whereunto I never
	Purpose return. Why hast thou gone so far,
	To be unbent when thou hast ta'en thy stand,
	The elected deer before thee?

PISANIO	But to win time
	To lose so bad employment; in the which
	I have consider'd of a course. Good lady,
	Hear me with patience.

IMOGEN	Talk thy tongue weary; speak
	I have heard I am a strumpet; and mine ear
	Therein false struck, can take no greater wound,
	Nor tent to bottom that. But speak.

PISANIO	Then, madam,
	I thought you would not back again.

IMOGEN	Most like;
	Bringing me here to kill me.

PISANIO	Not so, neither:
	But if I were as wise as honest, then
	My purpose would prove well. It cannot be
	But that my master is abused:
	Some villain, ay, and singular in his art.
	Hath done you both this cursed injury.

IMOGEN	Some Roman courtezan.

PISANIO	No, on my life.
	I'll give but notice you are dead and send him
	Some bloody sign of it; for 'tis commanded
	I should do so: you shall be miss'd at court,
	And that will well confirm it.

IMOGEN	Why good fellow,
	What shall I do the where? where bide? how live?
	Or in my life what comfort, when I am
	Dead to my husband?

PISANIO	If you'll back to the court--

IMOGEN	No court, no father; nor no more ado
	With that harsh, noble, simple nothing,
	That Cloten, whose love-suit hath been to me
	As fearful as a siege.

PISANIO	If not at court,
	Then not in Britain must you bide.

IMOGEN	Where then
	Hath Britain all the sun that shines? Day, night,
	Are they not but in Britain? I' the world's volume
	Our Britain seems as of it, but not in 't;
	In a great pool a swan's nest: prithee, think
	There's livers out of Britain.

PISANIO	I am most glad
	You think of other place. The ambassador,
	Lucius the Roman, comes to Milford-Haven
	To-morrow: now, if you could wear a mind
	Dark as your fortune is, and but disguise
	That which, to appear itself, must not yet be
	But by self-danger, you should tread a course
	Pretty and full of view; yea, haply, near
	The residence of Posthumus; so nigh at least
	That though his actions were not visible, yet
	Report should render him hourly to your ear
	As truly as he moves.

IMOGEN	O, for such means!
	Though peril to my modesty, not death on't,
	I would adventure.

PISANIO	Well, then, here's the point:
	You must forget to be a woman; change
	Command into obedience: fear and niceness--
	The handmaids of all women, or, more truly,
	Woman its pretty self--into a waggish courage:
	Ready in gibes, quick-answer'd, saucy and
	As quarrelous as the weasel; nay, you must
	Forget that rarest treasure of your cheek,
	Exposing it--but, O, the harder heart!
	Alack, no remedy!--to the greedy touch
	Of common-kissing Titan, and forget
	Your laboursome and dainty trims, wherein
	You made great Juno angry.

IMOGEN	Nay, be brief
	I see into thy end, and am almost
	A man already.

PISANIO	First, make yourself but like one.
	Fore-thinking this, I have already fit--
	'Tis in my cloak-bag--doublet, hat, hose, all
	That answer to them: would you in their serving,
	And with what imitation you can borrow
	From youth of such a season, 'fore noble Lucius
	Present yourself, desire his service, tell him
	wherein you're happy,--which you'll make him know,
	If that his head have ear in music,--doubtless
	With joy he will embrace you, for he's honourable
	And doubling that, most holy. Your means abroad,
	You have me, rich; and I will never fail
	Beginning nor supplyment.

IMOGEN	Thou art all the comfort
	The gods will diet me with. Prithee, away:
	There's more to be consider'd; but we'll even
	All that good time will give us: this attempt
	I am soldier to, and will abide it with
	A prince's courage. Away, I prithee.

PISANIO	Well, madam, we must take a short farewell,
	Lest, being miss'd, I be suspected of
	Your carriage from the court. My noble mistress,
	Here is a box; I had it from the queen:
	What's in't is precious; if you are sick at sea,
	Or stomach-qualm'd at land, a dram of this
	Will drive away distemper. To some shade,
	And fit you to your manhood. May the gods
	Direct you to the best!

IMOGEN	Amen: I thank thee.

	[Exeunt, severally]




	CYMBELINE


ACT III



SCENE V	A room in Cymbeline's palace.


	[Enter CYMBELINE, QUEEN, CLOTEN, LUCIUS,
	Lords, and Attendants]

CYMBELINE	Thus far; and so farewell.

CAIUS LUCIUS	Thanks, royal sir.
	My emperor hath wrote, I must from hence;
	And am right sorry that I must report ye
	My master's enemy.

CYMBELINE	                  Our subjects, sir,
	Will not endure his yoke; and for ourself
	To show less sovereignty than they, must needs
	Appear unkinglike.

CAIUS LUCIUS	                  So, sir: I desire of you
	A conduct over-land to Milford-Haven.
	Madam, all joy befal your grace!

QUEEN	And you!

CYMBELINE	My lords, you are appointed for that office;
	The due of honour in no point omit.
	So farewell, noble Lucius.

CAIUS LUCIUS	Your hand, my lord.

CLOTEN	Receive it friendly; but from this time forth
	I wear it as your enemy.

CAIUS LUCIUS	Sir, the event
	Is yet to name the winner: fare you well.

CYMBELINE	Leave not the worthy Lucius, good my lords,
	Till he have cross'd the Severn. Happiness!

	[Exeunt LUCIUS and Lords]

QUEEN	He goes hence frowning: but it honours us
	That we have given him cause.

CLOTEN	'Tis all the better;
	Your valiant Britons have their wishes in it.

CYMBELINE	Lucius hath wrote already to the emperor
	How it goes here. It fits us therefore ripely
	Our chariots and our horsemen be in readiness:
	The powers that he already hath in Gallia
	Will soon be drawn to head, from whence he moves
	His war for Britain.

QUEEN	'Tis not sleepy business;
	But must be look'd to speedily and strongly.

CYMBELINE	Our expectation that it would be thus
	Hath made us forward. But, my gentle queen,
	Where is our daughter? She hath not appear'd
	Before the Roman, nor to us hath tender'd
	The duty of the day: she looks us like
	A thing more made of malice than of duty:
	We have noted it. Call her before us; for
	We have been too slight in sufferance.

	[Exit an Attendant]

QUEEN	Royal sir,
	Since the exile of Posthumus, most retired
	Hath her life been; the cure whereof, my lord,
	'Tis time must do. Beseech your majesty,
	Forbear sharp speeches to her: she's a lady
	So tender of rebukes that words are strokes
	And strokes death to her.

	[Re-enter Attendant]

CYMBELINE	Where is she, sir? How
	Can her contempt be answer'd?

Attendant	Please you, sir,
	Her chambers are all lock'd; and there's no answer
	That will be given to the loudest noise we make.

QUEEN	My lord, when last I went to visit her,
	She pray'd me to excuse her keeping close,
	Whereto constrain'd by her infirmity,
	She should that duty leave unpaid to you,
	Which daily she was bound to proffer: this
	She wish'd me to make known; but our great court
	Made me to blame in memory.

CYMBELINE	Her doors lock'd?
	Not seen of late? Grant, heavens, that which I fear
	Prove false!

	[Exit]

QUEEN	Son, I say, follow the king.

CLOTEN	That man of hers, Pisanio, her old servant,
	have not seen these two days.

QUEEN	Go, look after.

	[Exit CLOTEN]

	Pisanio, thou that stand'st so for Posthumus!
	He hath a drug of mine; I pray his absence
	Proceed by swallowing that, for he believes
	It is a thing most precious. But for her,
	Where is she gone? Haply, despair hath seized her,
	Or, wing'd with fervor of her love, she's flown
	To her desired Posthumus: gone she is
	To death or to dishonour; and my end
	Can make good use of either: she being down,
	I have the placing of the British crown.

	[Re-enter CLOTEN]

	How now, my son!

CLOTEN	'Tis certain she is fled.
	Go in and cheer the king: he rages; none
	Dare come about him.

QUEEN	[Aside]            All the better: may
	This night forestall him of the coming day!

	[Exit]

CLOTEN	I love and hate her: for she's fair and royal,
	And that she hath all courtly parts more exquisite
	Than lady, ladies, woman; from every one
	The best she hath, and she, of all compounded,
	Outsells them all; I love her therefore: but
	Disdaining me and throwing favours on
	The low Posthumus slanders so her judgment
	That what's else rare is choked; and in that point
	I will conclude to hate her, nay, indeed,
	To be revenged upon her. For when fools Shall--

	[Enter PISANIO]

	Who is here? What, are you packing, sirrah?
	Come hither: ah, you precious pander! Villain,
	Where is thy lady? In a word; or else
	Thou art straightway with the fiends.

PISANIO	O, good my lord!

CLOTEN	Where is thy lady? Or, by Jupiter,--
	I will not ask again. Close villain,
	I'll have this secret from thy heart, or rip
	Thy heart to find it. Is she with Posthumus?
	From whose so many weights of baseness cannot
	A dram of worth be drawn.

PISANIO	Alas, my lord,
	How can she be with him? When was she missed?
	He is in Rome.

CLOTEN	                  Where is she, sir? Come nearer;
	No further halting: satisfy me home
	What is become of her.

PISANIO	O, my all-worthy lord!

CLOTEN	All-worthy villain!
	Discover where thy mistress is at once,
	At the next word: no more of 'worthy lord!'
	Speak, or thy silence on the instant is
	Thy condemnation and thy death.

PISANIO	Then, sir,
	This paper is the history of my knowledge
	Touching her flight.

	[Presenting a letter]

CLOTEN	Let's see't. I will pursue her
	Even to Augustus' throne.

PISANIO	[Aside]                 Or this, or perish.
	She's far enough; and what he learns by this
	May prove his travel, not her danger.

CLOTEN	Hum!

PISANIO	[Aside]  I'll write to my lord she's dead. O Imogen,
	Safe mayst thou wander, safe return again!

CLOTEN	Sirrah, is this letter true?

PISANIO	Sir, as I think.

CLOTEN	It is Posthumus' hand; I know't. Sirrah, if thou
	wouldst not be a villain, but do me true service,
	undergo those employments wherein I should have
	cause to use thee with a serious industry, that is,
	what villany soe'er I bid thee do, to perform it
	directly and truly, I would think thee an honest
	man: thou shouldst neither want my means for thy
	relief nor my voice for thy preferment.

PISANIO	Well, my good lord.

CLOTEN	Wilt thou serve me? for since patiently and
	constantly thou hast stuck to the bare fortune of
	that beggar Posthumus, thou canst not, in the
	course of gratitude, but be a diligent follower of
	mine: wilt thou serve me?

PISANIO	Sir, I will.

CLOTEN	Give me thy hand; here's my purse. Hast any of thy
	late master's garments in thy possession?

PISANIO	I have, my lord, at my lodging, the same suit he
	wore when he took leave of my lady and mistress.

CLOTEN	The first service thou dost me, fetch that suit
	hither: let it be thy lint service; go.

PISANIO	I shall, my lord.

	[Exit]

CLOTEN	Meet thee at Milford-Haven!--I forgot to ask him one
	thing; I'll remember't anon:--even there, thou
	villain Posthumus, will I kill thee. I would these
	garments were come. She said upon a time--the
	bitterness of it I now belch from my heart--that she
	held the very garment of Posthumus in more respect
	than my noble and natural person together with the
	adornment of my qualities. With that suit upon my
	back, will I ravish her: first kill him, and in her
	eyes; there shall she see my valour, which will then
	be a torment to her contempt. He on the ground, my
	speech of insultment ended on his dead body, and
	when my lust hath dined,--which, as I say, to vex
	her I will execute in the clothes that she so
	praised,--to the court I'll knock her back, foot
	her home again. She hath despised me rejoicingly,
	and I'll be merry in my revenge.

	[Re-enter PISANIO, with the clothes]

	Be those the garments?

PISANIO	Ay, my noble lord.

CLOTEN	How long is't since she went to Milford-Haven?

PISANIO	She can scarce be there yet.

CLOTEN	Bring this apparel to my chamber; that is the second
	thing that I have commanded thee: the third is,
	that thou wilt be a voluntary mute to my design. Be
	but duteous, and true preferment shall tender itself
	to thee. My revenge is now at Milford: would I had
	wings to follow it! Come, and be true.

	[Exit]

PISANIO	Thou bid'st me to my loss: for true to thee
	Were to prove false, which I will never be,
	To him that is most true. To Milford go,
	And find not her whom thou pursuest. Flow, flow,
	You heavenly blessings, on her! This fool's speed
	Be cross'd with slowness; labour be his meed!

	[Exit]




	CYMBELINE


ACT III



SCENE VI	Wales. Before the cave of Belarius.


	[Enter IMOGEN, in boy's clothes]

IMOGEN	I see a man's life is a tedious one:
	I have tired myself, and for two nights together
	Have made the ground my bed. I should be sick,
	But that my resolution helps me. Milford,
	When from the mountain-top Pisanio show'd thee,
	Thou wast within a ken: O Jove! I think
	Foundations fly the wretched; such, I mean,
	Where they should be relieved. Two beggars told me
	I could not miss my way: will poor folks lie,
	That have afflictions on them, knowing 'tis
	A punishment or trial? Yes; no wonder,
	When rich ones scarce tell true. To lapse in fulness
	Is sorer than to lie for need, and falsehood
	Is worse in kings than beggars. My dear lord!
	Thou art one o' the false ones. Now I think on thee,
	My hunger's gone; but even before, I was
	At point to sink for food. But what is this?
	Here is a path to't: 'tis some savage hold:
	I were best not to call; I dare not call:
	yet famine,
	Ere clean it o'erthrow nature, makes it valiant,
	Plenty and peace breeds cowards: hardness ever
	Of hardiness is mother. Ho! who's here?
	If any thing that's civil, speak; if savage,
	Take or lend. Ho! No answer? Then I'll enter.
	Best draw my sword: and if mine enemy
	But fear the sword like me, he'll scarcely look on't.
	Such a foe, good heavens!

	[Exit, to the cave]

	[Enter BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS]

BELARIUS	You, Polydote, have proved best woodman and
	Are master of the feast: Cadwal and I
	Will play the cook and servant; 'tis our match:
	The sweat of industry would dry and die,
	But for the end it works to. Come; our stomachs
	Will make what's homely savoury: weariness
	Can snore upon the flint, when resty sloth
	Finds the down pillow hard. Now peace be here,
	Poor house, that keep'st thyself!

GUIDERIUS	I am thoroughly weary.

ARVIRAGUS	I am weak with toil, yet strong in appetite.

GUIDERIUS	There is cold meat i' the cave; we'll browse on that,
	Whilst what we have kill'd be cook'd.

BELARIUS	[Looking into the cave]

	Stay; come not in.
	But that it eats our victuals, I should think
	Here were a fairy.

GUIDERIUS	What's the matter, sir?

BELARIUS	By Jupiter, an angel! or, if not,
	An earthly paragon! Behold divineness
	No elder than a boy!

	[Re-enter IMOGEN]

IMOGEN	Good masters, harm me not:
	Before I enter'd here, I call'd; and thought
	To have begg'd or bought what I have took:
	good troth,
	I have stol'n nought, nor would not, though I had found
	Gold strew'd i' the floor. Here's money for my meat:
	I would have left it on the board so soon
	As I had made my meal, and parted
	With prayers for the provider.

GUIDERIUS	Money, youth?

ARVIRAGUS	All gold and silver rather turn to dirt!
	As 'tis no better reckon'd, but of those
	Who worship dirty gods.

IMOGEN	I see you're angry:
	Know, if you kill me for my fault, I should
	Have died had I not made it.

BELARIUS	Whither bound?

IMOGEN	To Milford-Haven.

BELARIUS	What's your name?

IMOGEN	Fidele, sir. I have a kinsman who
	Is bound for Italy; he embark'd at Milford;
	To whom being going, almost spent with hunger,
	I am fall'n in this offence.

BELARIUS	Prithee, fair youth,
	Think us no churls, nor measure our good minds
	By this rude place we live in. Well encounter'd!
	'Tis almost night: you shall have better cheer
	Ere you depart: and thanks to stay and eat it.
	Boys, bid him welcome.

GUIDERIUS	Were you a woman, youth,
	I should woo hard but be your groom. In honesty,
	I bid for you as I'd buy.

ARVIRAGUS	I'll make't my comfort
	He is a man; I'll love him as my brother:
	And such a welcome as I'd give to him
	After long absence, such is yours: most welcome!
	Be sprightly, for you fall 'mongst friends.

IMOGEN	'Mongst friends,
	If brothers.

	[Aside]

	Would it had been so, that they
	Had been my father's sons! then had my prize
	Been less, and so more equal ballasting
	To thee, Posthumus.

BELARIUS	He wrings at some distress.

GUIDERIUS	Would I could free't!

ARVIRAGUS	Or I, whate'er it be,
	What pain it cost, what danger. God's!

BELARIUS	Hark, boys.

	[Whispering]

IMOGEN	Great men,
	That had a court no bigger than this cave,
	That did attend themselves and had the virtue
	Which their own conscience seal'd them--laying by
	That nothing-gift of differing multitudes--
	Could not out-peer these twain. Pardon me, gods!
	I'd change my sex to be companion with them,
	Since Leonatus's false.

BELARIUS	It shall be so.
	Boys, we'll go dress our hunt. Fair youth, come in:
	Discourse is heavy, fasting; when we have supp'd,
	We'll mannerly demand thee of thy story,
	So far as thou wilt speak it.

GUIDERIUS	Pray, draw near.

ARVIRAGUS	The night to the owl and morn to the lark
	less welcome.

IMOGEN	Thanks, sir.

ARVIRAGUS	I pray, draw near.

	[Exeunt]




	CYMBELINE


ACT III



SCENE VII	Rome. A public place.


	[Enter two Senators and Tribunes]

First Senator	This is the tenor of the emperor's writ:
	That since the common men are now in action
	'Gainst the Pannonians and Dalmatians,
	And that the legions now in Gallia are
	Full weak to undertake our wars against
	The fall'n-off Britons, that we do incite
	The gentry to this business. He creates
	Lucius preconsul: and to you the tribunes,
	For this immediate levy, he commends
	His absolute commission. Long live Caesar!

First Tribune	Is Lucius general of the forces?

Second Senator	Ay.

First Tribune	Remaining now in Gallia?

First Senator	With those legions
	Which I have spoke of, whereunto your levy
	Must be supplyant: the words of your commission
	Will tie you to the numbers and the time
	Of their dispatch.

First Tribune	                  We will discharge our duty.

	[Exeunt]




	CYMBELINE


ACT IV



SCENE I	Wales: near the cave of Belarius.


	[Enter CLOTEN]

CLOTEN	I am near to the place where they should meet, if
	Pisanio have mapped it truly. How fit his garments
	serve me! Why should his mistress, who was made by
	him that made the tailor, not be fit too? the
	rather--saving reverence of the word--for 'tis said
	a woman's fitness comes by fits. Therein I must
	play the workman. I dare speak it to myself--for it
	is not vain-glory for a man and his glass to confer
	in his own chamber--I mean, the lines of my body are
	as well drawn as his; no less young, more strong,
	not beneath him in fortunes, beyond him in the
	advantage of the time, above him in birth, alike
	conversant in general services, and more remarkable
	in single oppositions: yet this imperceiverant
	thing loves him in my despite. What mortality is!
	Posthumus, thy head, which now is growing upon thy
	shoulders, shall within this hour be off; thy
	mistress enforced; thy garments cut to pieces before
	thy face: and all this done, spurn her home to her
	father; who may haply be a little angry for my so
	rough usage; but my mother, having power of his
	testiness, shall turn all into my commendations. My
	horse is tied up safe: out, sword, and to a sore
	purpose! Fortune, put them into my hand! This is
	the very description of their meeting-place; and
	the fellow dares not deceive me.

	[Exit]



	CYMBELINE


ACT IV



SCENE II	Before the cave of Belarius.


	[Enter, from the cave, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS,
	ARVIRAGUS, and IMOGEN]

BELARIUS	[To IMOGEN]  You are not well: remain here in the cave;
	We'll come to you after hunting.

ARVIRAGUS	[To IMOGEN]	Brother, stay here
	Are we not brothers?

IMOGEN	So man and man should be;
	But clay and clay differs in dignity,
	Whose dust is both alike. I am very sick.

GUIDERIUS	Go you to hunting; I'll abide with him.

IMOGEN	So sick I am not, yet I am not well;
	But not so citizen a wanton as
	To seem to die ere sick: so please you, leave me;
	Stick to your journal course: the breach of custom
	Is breach of all. I am ill, but your being by me
	Cannot amend me; society is no comfort
	To one not sociable: I am not very sick,
	Since I can reason of it. Pray you, trust me here:
	I'll rob none but myself; and let me die,
	Stealing so poorly.

GUIDERIUS	I love thee; I have spoke it
	How much the quantity, the weight as much,
	As I do love my father.

BELARIUS	What! how! how!

ARVIRAGUS	If it be sin to say so, I yoke me
	In my good brother's fault: I know not why
	I love this youth; and I have heard you say,
	Love's reason's without reason: the bier at door,
	And a demand who is't shall die, I'd say
	'My father, not this youth.'

BELARIUS	[Aside]	O noble strain!
	O worthiness of nature! breed of greatness!
	Cowards father cowards and base things sire base:
	Nature hath meal and bran, contempt and grace.
	I'm not their father; yet who this should be,
	Doth miracle itself, loved before me.
	'Tis the ninth hour o' the morn.

ARVIRAGUS	Brother, farewell.

IMOGEN	I wish ye sport.

ARVIRAGUS	                  You health. So please you, sir.

IMOGEN	[Aside]  These are kind creatures. Gods, what lies
	I have heard!
	Our courtiers say all's savage but at court:
	Experience, O, thou disprovest report!
	The imperious seas breed monsters, for the dish
	Poor tributary rivers as sweet fish.
	I am sick still; heart-sick. Pisanio,
	I'll now taste of thy drug.

	[Swallows some]

GUIDERIUS	I could not stir him:
	He said he was gentle, but unfortunate;
	Dishonestly afflicted, but yet honest.

ARVIRAGUS	Thus did he answer me: yet said, hereafter
	I might know more.

BELARIUS	To the field, to the field!
	We'll leave you for this time: go in and rest.

ARVIRAGUS	We'll not be long away.

BELARIUS	Pray, be not sick,
	For you must be our housewife.

IMOGEN	Well or ill,
	I am bound to you.

BELARIUS	And shalt be ever.

	[Exit IMOGEN, to the cave]

	This youth, how'er distress'd, appears he hath had
	Good ancestors.

ARVIRAGUS	                  How angel-like he sings!

GUIDERIUS	But his neat cookery! he cut our roots
	In characters,
	And sauced our broths, as Juno had been sick
	And he her dieter.

ARVIRAGUS	Nobly he yokes
	A smiling with a sigh, as if the sigh
	Was that it was, for not being such a smile;
	The smile mocking the sigh, that it would fly
	From so divine a temple, to commix
	With winds that sailors rail at.

GUIDERIUS	I do note
	That grief and patience, rooted in him both,
	Mingle their spurs together.

ARVIRAGUS	Grow, patience!
	And let the stinking elder, grief, untwine
	His perishing root with the increasing vine!

BELARIUS	It is great morning. Come, away!--
	Who's there?

	[Enter CLOTEN]

CLOTEN	I cannot find those runagates; that villain
	Hath mock'd me. I am faint.

BELARIUS	'Those runagates!'
	Means he not us? I partly know him: 'tis
	Cloten, the son o' the queen. I fear some ambush.
	I saw him not these many years, and yet
	I know 'tis he. We are held as outlaws: hence!

GUIDERIUS	He is but one: you and my brother search
	What companies are near: pray you, away;
	Let me alone with him.

	[Exeunt BELARIUS and ARVIRAGUS]

CLOTEN	                  Soft! What are you
	That fly me thus? some villain mountaineers?
	I have heard of such. What slave art thou?

GUIDERIUS	A thing
	More slavish did I ne'er than answering
	A slave without a knock.

CLOTEN	Thou art a robber,
	A law-breaker, a villain: yield thee, thief.

GUIDERIUS	To who? to thee? What art thou? Have not I
	An arm as big as thine? a heart as big?
	Thy words, I grant, are bigger, for I wear not
	My dagger in my mouth. Say what thou art,
	Why I should yield to thee?

CLOTEN	Thou villain base,
	Know'st me not by my clothes?

GUIDERIUS	No, nor thy tailor, rascal,
	Who is thy grandfather: he made those clothes,
	Which, as it seems, make thee.

CLOTEN	Thou precious varlet,
	My tailor made them not.

GUIDERIUS	Hence, then, and thank
	The man that gave them thee. Thou art some fool;
	I am loath to beat thee.

CLOTEN	Thou injurious thief,
	Hear but my name, and tremble.

GUIDERIUS	What's thy name?

CLOTEN	Cloten, thou villain.

GUIDERIUS	Cloten, thou double villain, be thy name,
	I cannot tremble at it: were it Toad, or
	Adder, Spider,
	'Twould move me sooner.

CLOTEN	To thy further fear,
	Nay, to thy mere confusion, thou shalt know
	I am son to the queen.

GUIDERIUS	I am sorry for 't; not seeming
	So worthy as thy birth.

CLOTEN	Art not afeard?

GUIDERIUS	Those that I reverence those I fear, the wise:
	At fools I laugh, not fear them.

CLOTEN	Die the death:
	When I have slain thee with my proper hand,
	I'll follow those that even now fled hence,
	And on the gates of Lud's-town set your heads:
	Yield, rustic mountaineer.

	[Exeunt, fighting]

	[Re-enter BELARIUS and ARVIRAGUS]

BELARIUS	No companies abroad?

ARVIRAGUS	None in the world: you did mistake him, sure.

BELARIUS	I cannot tell: long is it since I saw him,
	But time hath nothing blurr'd those lines of favour
	Which then he wore; the snatches in his voice,
	And burst of speaking, were as his: I am absolute
	'Twas very Cloten.

ARVIRAGUS	                  In this place we left them:
	I wish my brother make good time with him,
	You say he is so fell.

BELARIUS	Being scarce made up,
	I mean, to man, he had not apprehension
	Of roaring terrors; for the effect of judgment
	Is oft the cause of fear. But, see, thy brother.

	[Re-enter GUIDERIUS, with CLOTEN'S head]

GUIDERIUS	This Cloten was a fool, an empty purse;
	There was no money in't: not Hercules
	Could have knock'd out his brains, for he had none:
	Yet I not doing this, the fool had borne
	My head as I do his.

BELARIUS	What hast thou done?

GUIDERIUS	I am perfect what: cut off one Cloten's head,
	Son to the queen, after his own report;
	Who call'd me traitor, mountaineer, and swore
	With his own single hand he'ld take us in
	Displace our heads where--thank the gods!--they grow,
	And set them on Lud's-town.

BELARIUS	We are all undone.

GUIDERIUS	Why, worthy father, what have we to lose,
	But that he swore to take, our lives? The law
	Protects not us: then why should we be tender
	To let an arrogant piece of flesh threat us,
	Play judge and executioner all himself,
	For we do fear the law? What company
	Discover you abroad?

BELARIUS	No single soul
	Can we set eye on; but in all safe reason
	He must have some attendants. Though his humour
	Was nothing but mutation, ay, and that
	From one bad thing to worse; not frenzy, not
	Absolute madness could so far have raved
	To bring him here alone; although perhaps
	It may be heard at court that such as we
	Cave here, hunt here, are outlaws, and in time
	May make some stronger head; the which he hearing--
	As it is like him--might break out, and swear
	He'ld fetch us in; yet is't not probable
	To come alone, either he so undertaking,
	Or they so suffering: then on good ground we fear,
	If we do fear this body hath a tail
	More perilous than the head.

ARVIRAGUS	Let ordinance
	Come as the gods foresay it: howsoe'er,
	My brother hath done well.

BELARIUS	I had no mind
	To hunt this day: the boy Fidele's sickness
	Did make my way long forth.

GUIDERIUS	With his own sword,
	Which he did wave against my throat, I have ta'en
	His head from him: I'll throw't into the creek
	Behind our rock; and let it to the sea,
	And tell the fishes he's the queen's son, Cloten:
	That's all I reck.

	[Exit]

BELARIUS	I fear 'twill be revenged:
	Would, Polydote, thou hadst not done't! though valour
	Becomes thee well enough.

ARVIRAGUS	Would I had done't
	So the revenge alone pursued me! Polydore,
	I love thee brotherly, but envy much
	Thou hast robb'd me of this deed: I would revenges,
	That possible strength might meet, would seek us through
	And put us to our answer.

BELARIUS	Well, 'tis done:
	We'll hunt no more to-day, nor seek for danger
	Where there's no profit. I prithee, to our rock;
	You and Fidele play the cooks: I'll stay
	Till hasty Polydote return, and bring him
	To dinner presently.

ARVIRAGUS	Poor sick Fidele!
	I'll weringly to him: to gain his colour
	I'ld let a parish of such Clotens' blood,
	And praise myself for charity.

	[Exit]

BELARIUS	O thou goddess,
	Thou divine Nature, how thyself thou blazon'st
	In these two princely boys! They are as gentle
	As zephyrs blowing below the violet,
	Not wagging his sweet head; and yet as rough,
	Their royal blood enchafed, as the rudest wind,
	That by the top doth take the mountain pine,
	And make him stoop to the vale. 'Tis wonder
	That an invisible instinct should frame them
	To royalty unlearn'd, honour untaught,
	Civility not seen from other, valour
	That wildly grows in them, but yields a crop
	As if it had been sow'd. Yet still it's strange
	What Cloten's being here to us portends,
	Or what his death will bring us.

	[Re-enter GUIDERIUS]

GUIDERIUS	Where's my brother?
	I have sent Cloten's clotpoll down the stream,
	In embassy to his mother: his body's hostage
	For his return.

	[Solemn music]

BELARIUS	                  My ingenious instrument!
	Hark, Polydore, it sounds! But what occasion
	Hath Cadwal now to give it motion? Hark!

GUIDERIUS	Is he at home?

BELARIUS	                  He went hence even now.

GUIDERIUS	What does he mean? since death of my dear'st mother
	it did not speak before. All solemn things
	Should answer solemn accidents. The matter?
	Triumphs for nothing and lamenting toys
	Is jollity for apes and grief for boys.
	Is Cadwal mad?

BELARIUS	                  Look, here he comes,
	And brings the dire occasion in his arms
	Of what we blame him for.

	[Re-enter ARVIRAGUS, with IMOGEN, as dead,
	bearing her in his arms]

ARVIRAGUS	The bird is dead
	That we have made so much on. I had rather
	Have skipp'd from sixteen years of age to sixty,
	To have turn'd my leaping-time into a crutch,
	Than have seen this.

GUIDERIUS	O sweetest, fairest lily!
	My brother wears thee not the one half so well
	As when thou grew'st thyself.

BELARIUS	O melancholy!
	Who ever yet could sound thy bottom? find
	The ooze, to show what coast thy sluggish crare
	Might easiliest harbour in? Thou blessed thing!
	Jove knows what man thou mightst have made; but I,
	Thou diedst, a most rare boy, of melancholy.
	How found you him?

ARVIRAGUS	Stark, as you see:
	Thus smiling, as some fly hid tickled slumber,
	Not as death's dart, being laugh'd at; his
	right cheek
	Reposing on a cushion.

GUIDERIUS	Where?

ARVIRAGUS	O' the floor;
	His arms thus leagued: I thought he slept, and put
	My clouted brogues from off my feet, whose rudeness
	Answer'd my steps too loud.

GUIDERIUS	Why, he but sleeps:
	If he be gone, he'll make his grave a bed;
	With female fairies will his tomb be haunted,
	And worms will not come to thee.

ARVIRAGUS	With fairest flowers
	Whilst summer lasts and I live here, Fidele,
	I'll sweeten thy sad grave: thou shalt not lack
	The flower that's like thy face, pale primrose, nor
	The azured harebell, like thy veins, no, nor
	The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander,
	Out-sweeten'd not thy breath: the ruddock would,
	With charitable bill,--O bill, sore-shaming
	Those rich-left heirs that let their fathers lie
	Without a monument!--bring thee all this;
	Yea, and furr'd moss besides, when flowers are none,
	To winter-ground thy corse.

GUIDERIUS	Prithee, have done;
	And do not play in wench-like words with that
	Which is so serious. Let us bury him,
	And not protract with admiration what
	Is now due debt. To the grave!

ARVIRAGUS	Say, where shall's lay him?

GUIDERIUS	By good Euriphile, our mother.

ARVIRAGUS	Be't so:
	And let us, Polydore, though now our voices
	Have got the mannish crack, sing him to the ground,
	As once our mother; use like note and words,
	Save that Euriphile must be Fidele.

GUIDERIUS	Cadwal,
	I cannot sing: I'll weep, and word it with thee;
	For notes of sorrow out of tune are worse
	Than priests and fanes that lie.

ARVIRAGUS	We'll speak it, then.

BELARIUS	Great griefs, I see, medicine the less; for Cloten
	Is quite forgot. He was a queen's son, boys;
	And though he came our enemy, remember
	He was paid for that: though mean and
	mighty, rotting
	Together, have one dust, yet reverence,
	That angel of the world, doth make distinction
	Of place 'tween high and low. Our foe was princely
	And though you took his life, as being our foe,
	Yet bury him as a prince.

GUIDERIUS	Pray You, fetch him hither.
	Thersites' body is as good as Ajax',
	When neither are alive.

ARVIRAGUS	If you'll go fetch him,
	We'll say our song the whilst. Brother, begin.

	[Exit BELARIUS]

GUIDERIUS	Nay, Cadwal, we must lay his head to the east;
	My father hath a reason for't.

ARVIRAGUS	'Tis true.

GUIDERIUS	Come on then, and remove him.

ARVIRAGUS	So. Begin.
	[SONG]

GUIDERIUS	     Fear no more the heat o' the sun,
	Nor the furious winter's rages;
	Thou thy worldly task hast done,
	Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages:
	Golden lads and girls all must,
	As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.

ARVIRAGUS	     Fear no more the frown o' the great;
	Thou art past the tyrant's stroke;
	Care no more to clothe and eat;
	To thee the reed is as the oak:
	The sceptre, learning, physic, must
	All follow this, and come to dust.

GUIDERIUS	     Fear no more the lightning flash,

ARVIRAGUS	        Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone;

GUIDERIUS	     Fear not slander, censure rash;

ARVIRAGUS	        Thou hast finish'd joy and moan:


GUIDERIUS	|
	|  All lovers young, all lovers must
ARVIRAGUS	|   Consign to thee, and come to dust.


GUIDERIUS	     No exorciser harm thee!

ARVIRAGUS	        Nor no witchcraft charm thee!

GUIDERIUS	     Ghost unlaid forbear thee!

ARVIRAGUS	        Nothing ill come near thee!


GUIDERIUS	|
	|   Quiet consummation have;
ARVIRAGUS	|    And renowned be thy grave!


	[Re-enter BELARIUS, with the body of CLOTEN]

GUIDERIUS	We have done our obsequies: come, lay him down.

BELARIUS	Here's a few flowers; but 'bout midnight, more:
	The herbs that have on them cold dew o' the night
	Are strewings fitt'st for graves. Upon their faces.
	You were as flowers, now wither'd: even so
	These herblets shall, which we upon you strew.
	Come on, away: apart upon our knees.
	The ground that gave them first has them again:
	Their pleasures here are past, so is their pain.

	[Exeunt BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS]

IMOGEN	[Awaking]  Yes, sir, to Milford-Haven; which is
	the way?--
	I thank you.--By yond bush?--Pray, how far thither?
	'Ods pittikins! can it be six mile yet?--
	I have gone all night. 'Faith, I'll lie down and sleep.
	But, soft! no bedfellow!--O gods and goddesses!

	[Seeing the body of CLOTEN]

	These flowers are like the pleasures of the world;
	This bloody man, the care on't. I hope I dream;
	For so I thought I was a cave-keeper,
	And cook to honest creatures: but 'tis not so;
	'Twas but a bolt of nothing, shot at nothing,
	Which the brain makes of fumes: our very eyes
	Are sometimes like our judgments, blind. Good faith,
	I tremble stiff with fear: but if there be
	Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity
	As a wren's eye, fear'd gods, a part of it!
	The dream's here still: even when I wake, it is
	Without me, as within me; not imagined, felt.
	A headless man! The garments of Posthumus!
	I know the shape of's leg: this is his hand;
	His foot Mercurial; his Martial thigh;
	The brawns of Hercules: but his Jovial face
	Murder in heaven?--How!--'Tis gone. Pisanio,
	All curses madded Hecuba gave the Greeks,
	And mine to boot, be darted on thee! Thou,
	Conspired with that irregulous devil, Cloten,
	Hast here cut off my lord. To write and read
	Be henceforth treacherous! Damn'd Pisanio
	Hath with his forged letters,--damn'd Pisanio--
	From this most bravest vessel of the world
	Struck the main-top! O Posthumus! alas,
	Where is thy head? where's that? Ay me!
	where's that?
	Pisanio might have kill'd thee at the heart,
	And left this head on. How should this be? Pisanio?
	'Tis he and Cloten: malice and lucre in them
	Have laid this woe here. O, 'tis pregnant, pregnant!
	The drug he gave me, which he said was precious
	And cordial to me, have I not found it
	Murderous to the senses? That confirms it home:
	This is Pisanio's deed, and Cloten's: O!
	Give colour to my pale cheek with thy blood,
	That we the horrider may seem to those
	Which chance to find us: O, my lord, my lord!

	[Falls on the body]

	[Enter LUCIUS, a Captain and other Officers,
	and a Soothsayer]

Captain	To them the legions garrison'd in Gailia,
	After your will, have cross'd the sea, attending
	You here at Milford-Haven with your ships:
	They are in readiness.

CAIUS LUCIUS	But what from Rome?

Captain	The senate hath stirr'd up the confiners
	And gentlemen of Italy, most willing spirits,
	That promise noble service: and they come
	Under the conduct of bold Iachimo,
	Syenna's brother.

CAIUS LUCIUS	                  When expect you them?

Captain	With the next benefit o' the wind.

CAIUS LUCIUS	This forwardness
	Makes our hopes fair. Command our present numbers
	Be muster'd; bid the captains look to't. Now, sir,
	What have you dream'd of late of this war's purpose?

Soothsayer	Last night the very gods show'd me a vision--
	I fast and pray'd for their intelligence--thus:
	I saw Jove's bird, the Roman eagle, wing'd
	From the spongy south to this part of the west,
	There vanish'd in the sunbeams: which portends--
	Unless my sins abuse my divination--
	Success to the Roman host.

CAIUS LUCIUS	Dream often so,
	And never false. Soft, ho! what trunk is here
	Without his top? The ruin speaks that sometime
	It was a worthy building. How! a page!
	Or dead, or sleeping on him? But dead rather;
	For nature doth abhor to make his bed
	With the defunct, or sleep upon the dead.
	Let's see the boy's face.

Captain	He's alive, my lord.

CAIUS LUCIUS	He'll then instruct us of this body. Young one,
	Inform us of thy fortunes, for it seems
	They crave to be demanded. Who is this
	Thou makest thy bloody pillow? Or who was he
	That, otherwise than noble nature did,
	Hath alter'd that good picture? What's thy interest
	In this sad wreck? How came it? Who is it?
	What art thou?

IMOGEN	                  I am nothing: or if not,
	Nothing to be were better. This was my master,
	A very valiant Briton and a good,
	That here by mountaineers lies slain. Alas!
	There is no more such masters: I may wander
	From east to occident, cry out for service,
	Try many, all good, serve truly, never
	Find such another master.

CAIUS LUCIUS	'Lack, good youth!
	Thou movest no less with thy complaining than
	Thy master in bleeding: say his name, good friend.

IMOGEN	Richard du Champ.

	[Aside]

	If I do lie and do
	No harm by it, though the gods hear, I hope
	They'll pardon it.--Say you, sir?

CAIUS LUCIUS	Thy name?

IMOGEN	Fidele, sir.

CAIUS LUCIUS	Thou dost approve thyself the very same:
	Thy name well fits thy faith, thy faith thy name.
	Wilt take thy chance with me? I will not say
	Thou shalt be so well master'd, but, be sure,
	No less beloved. The Roman emperor's letters,
	Sent by a consul to me, should not sooner
	Than thine own worth prefer thee: go with me.

IMOGEN	I'll follow, sir. But first, an't please the gods,
	I'll hide my master from the flies, as deep
	As these poor pickaxes can dig; and when
	With wild wood-leaves and weeds I ha' strew'd his grave,
	And on it said a century of prayers,
	Such as I can, twice o'er, I'll weep and sigh;
	And leaving so his service, follow you,
	So please you entertain me.

CAIUS LUCIUS	Ay, good youth!
	And rather father thee than master thee.
	My friends,
	The boy hath taught us manly duties: let us
	Find out the prettiest daisied plot we can,
	And make him with our pikes and partisans
	A grave: come, arm him. Boy, he is preferr'd
	By thee to us, and he shall be interr'd
	As soldiers can. Be cheerful; wipe thine eyes
	Some falls are means the happier to arise.

	[Exeunt]




	CYMBELINE


ACT IV



SCENE III	A room in Cymbeline's palace.


	[Enter CYMBELINE, Lords, PISANIO, and Attendants]

CYMBELINE	Again; and bring me word how 'tis with her.

	[Exit an Attendant]

	A fever with the absence of her son,
	A madness, of which her life's in danger. Heavens,
	How deeply you at once do touch me! Imogen,
	The great part of my comfort, gone; my queen
	Upon a desperate bed, and in a time
	When fearful wars point at me; her son gone,
	So needful for this present: it strikes me, past
	The hope of comfort. But for thee, fellow,
	Who needs must know of her departure and
	Dost seem so ignorant, we'll enforce it from thee
	By a sharp torture.

PISANIO	Sir, my life is yours;
	I humbly set it at your will; but, for my mistress,
	I nothing know where she remains, why gone,
	Nor when she purposes return. Beseech your highness,
	Hold me your loyal servant.

First Lord	Good my liege,
	The day that she was missing he was here:
	I dare be bound he's true and shall perform
	All parts of his subjection loyally. For Cloten,
	There wants no diligence in seeking him,
	And will, no doubt, be found.

CYMBELINE	The time is troublesome.

	[To PISANIO]

	We'll slip you for a season; but our jealousy
	Does yet depend.

First Lord	                  So please your majesty,
	The Roman legions, all from Gallia drawn,
	Are landed on your coast, with a supply
	Of Roman gentlemen, by the senate sent.

CYMBELINE	Now for the counsel of my son and queen!
	I am amazed with matter.

First Lord	Good my liege,
	Your preparation can affront no less
	Than what you hear of: come more, for more
	you're ready:
	The want is but to put those powers in motion
	That long to move.

CYMBELINE	                  I thank you. Let's withdraw;
	And meet the time as it seeks us. We fear not
	What can from Italy annoy us; but
	We grieve at chances here. Away!

	[Exeunt all but PISANIO]

PISANIO	I heard no letter from my master since
	I wrote him Imogen was slain: 'tis strange:
	Nor hear I from my mistress who did promise
	To yield me often tidings: neither know I
	What is betid to Cloten; but remain
	Perplex'd in all. The heavens still must work.
	Wherein I am false I am honest; not true, to be true.
	These present wars shall find I love my country,
	Even to the note o' the king, or I'll fall in them.
	All other doubts, by time let them be clear'd:
	Fortune brings in some boats that are not steer'd.

	[Exit]




	CYMBELINE


ACT IV



SCENE IV	Wales: before the cave of Belarius.


	[Enter BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS.

GUIDERIUS	The noise is round about us.

BELARIUS	Let us from it.

ARVIRAGUS	What pleasure, sir, find we in life, to lock it
	From action and adventure?

GUIDERIUS	Nay, what hope
	Have we in hiding us? This way, the Romans
	Must or for Britons slay us, or receive us
	For barbarous and unnatural revolts
	During their use, and slay us after.

BELARIUS	Sons,
	We'll higher to the mountains; there secure us.
	To the king's party there's no going: newness
	Of Cloten's death--we being not known, not muster'd
	Among the bands--may drive us to a render
	Where we have lived, and so extort from's that
	Which we have done, whose answer would be death
	Drawn on with torture.

GUIDERIUS	This is, sir, a doubt
	In such a time nothing becoming you,
	Nor satisfying us.

ARVIRAGUS	                  It is not likely
	That when they hear the Roman horses neigh,
	Behold their quarter'd fires, have both their eyes
	And ears so cloy'd importantly as now,
	That they will waste their time upon our note,
	To know from whence we are.

BELARIUS	O, I am known
	Of many in the army: many years,
	Though Cloten then but young, you see, not wore him
	From my remembrance. And, besides, the king
	Hath not deserved my service nor your loves;
	Who find in my exile the want of breeding,
	The certainty of this hard life; aye hopeless
	To have the courtesy your cradle promised,
	But to be still hot summer's tamings and
	The shrinking slaves of winter.

GUIDERIUS	Than be so
	Better to cease to be. Pray, sir, to the army:
	I and my brother are not known; yourself
	So out of thought, and thereto so o'ergrown,
	Cannot be question'd.

ARVIRAGUS	By this sun that shines,
	I'll thither: what thing is it that I never
	Did see man die! scarce ever look'd on blood,
	But that of coward hares, hot goats, and venison!
	Never bestrid a horse, save one that had
	A rider like myself, who ne'er wore rowel
	Nor iron on his heel! I am ashamed
	To look upon the holy sun, to have
	The benefit of his blest beams, remaining
	So long a poor unknown.

GUIDERIUS	By heavens, I'll go:
	If you will bless me, sir, and give me leave,
	I'll take the better care, but if you will not,
	The hazard therefore due fall on me by
	The hands of Romans!

ARVIRAGUS	So say I	amen.

BELARIUS	No reason I, since of your lives you set
	So slight a valuation, should reserve
	My crack'd one to more care. Have with you, boys!
	If in your country wars you chance to die,
	That is my bed too, lads, an there I'll lie:
	Lead, lead.

	[Aside]

	The time seems long; their blood
	thinks scorn,
	Till it fly out and show them princes born.

	[Exeunt]




	CYMBELINE


ACT V



SCENE I	Britain. The Roman camp.


	[Enter POSTHUMUS, with a bloody handkerchief]

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	Yea, bloody cloth, I'll keep thee, for I wish'd
	Thou shouldst be colour'd thus. You married ones,
	If each of you should take this course, how many
	Must murder wives much better than themselves
	For wrying but a little! O Pisanio!
	Every good servant does not all commands:
	No bond but to do just ones. Gods! if you
	Should have ta'en vengeance on my faults, I never
	Had lived to put on this: so had you saved
	The noble Imogen to repent, and struck
	Me, wretch more worth your vengeance. But, alack,
	You snatch some hence for little faults; that's love,
	To have them fall no more: you some permit
	To second ills with ills, each elder worse,
	And make them dread it, to the doers' thrift.
	But Imogen is your own: do your best wills,
	And make me blest to obey! I am brought hither
	Among the Italian gentry, and to fight
	Against my lady's kingdom: 'tis enough
	That, Britain, I have kill'd thy mistress; peace!
	I'll give no wound to thee. Therefore, good heavens,
	Hear patiently my purpose: I'll disrobe me
	Of these Italian weeds and suit myself
	As does a Briton peasant: so I'll fight
	Against the part I come with; so I'll die
	For thee, O Imogen, even for whom my life
	Is every breath a death; and thus, unknown,
	Pitied nor hated, to the face of peril
	Myself I'll dedicate. Let me make men know
	More valour in me than my habits show.
	Gods, put the strength o' the Leonati in me!
	To shame the guise o' the world, I will begin
	The fashion, less without and more within.

	[Exit]




	CYMBELINE


ACT V



SCENE II	Field of battle between the British and Roman camps.


	[Enter, from one side, LUCIUS, IACHIMO, and
	the Roman Army: from the other side, the
	British Army; POSTHUMUS LEONATUS following,
	like a poor soldier. They march over and go
	out. Then enter again, in skirmish, IACHIMO
	and POSTHUMUS LEONATUS he vanquisheth and disarmeth
	IACHIMO, and then leaves him]

IACHIMO	The heaviness and guilt within my bosom
	Takes off my manhood: I have belied a lady,
	The princess of this country, and the air on't
	Revengingly enfeebles me; or could this carl,
	A very drudge of nature's, have subdued me
	In my profession? Knighthoods and honours, borne
	As I wear mine, are titles but of scorn.
	If that thy gentry, Britain, go before
	This lout as he exceeds our lords, the odds
	Is that we scarce are men and you are gods.

	[Exit]

	[The battle continues; the Britons fly; CYMBELINE is
	taken: then enter, to his rescue, BELARIUS,
	GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS]

BELARIUS	Stand, stand! We have the advantage of the ground;
	The lane is guarded: nothing routs us but
	The villany of our fears.


GUIDERIUS	|
	|  Stand, stand, and fight!
ARVIRAGUS	|


	[Re-enter POSTHUMUS LEONATUS, and seconds the
	Britons: they rescue CYMBELINE, and exeunt. Then
	re-enter LUCIUS, and IACHIMO, with IMOGEN]

CAIUS LUCIUS	Away, boy, from the troops, and save thyself;
	For friends kill friends, and the disorder's such
	As war were hoodwink'd.

IACHIMO	'Tis their fresh supplies.

CAIUS LUCIUS	It is a day turn'd strangely: or betimes
	Let's reinforce, or fly.

	[Exeunt]




	CYMBELINE


ACT V



SCENE III	Another part of the field.


	[Enter POSTHUMUS LEONATUS and a British Lord]

Lord	Camest thou from where they made the stand?

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	I did.
	Though you, it seems, come from the fliers.

Lord	I did.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	No blame be to you, sir; for all was lost,
	But that the heavens fought: the king himself
	Of his wings destitute, the army broken,
	And but the backs of Britons seen, all flying
	Through a straight lane; the enemy full-hearted,
	Lolling the tongue with slaughtering, having work
	More plentiful than tools to do't, struck down
	Some mortally, some slightly touch'd, some falling
	Merely through fear; that the straight pass was damm'd
	With dead men hurt behind, and cowards living
	To die with lengthen'd shame.

Lord	Where was this lane?

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	Close by the battle, ditch'd, and wall'd with turf;
	Which gave advantage to an ancient soldier,
	An honest one, I warrant; who deserved
	So long a breeding as his white beard came to,
	In doing this for's country: athwart the lane,
	He, with two striplings-lads more like to run
	The country base than to commit such slaughter
	With faces fit for masks, or rather fairer
	Than those for preservation cased, or shame--
	Made good the passage; cried to those that fled,
	'Our Britain s harts die flying, not our men:
	To darkness fleet souls that fly backwards. Stand;
	Or we are Romans and will give you that
	Like beasts which you shun beastly, and may save,
	But to look back in frown: stand, stand.'
	These three,
	Three thousand confident, in act as many--
	For three performers are the file when all
	The rest do nothing--with this word 'Stand, stand,'
	Accommodated by the place, more charming
	With their own nobleness, which could have turn'd
	A distaff to a lance, gilded pale looks,
	Part shame, part spirit renew'd; that some,
	turn'd coward
	But by example--O, a sin in war,
	Damn'd in the first beginners!--gan to look
	The way that they did, and to grin like lions
	Upon the pikes o' the hunters. Then began
	A stop i' the chaser, a retire, anon
	A rout, confusion thick; forthwith they fly
	Chickens, the way which they stoop'd eagles; slaves,
	The strides they victors made: and now our cowards,
	Like fragments in hard voyages, became
	The life o' the need: having found the backdoor open
	Of the unguarded hearts, heavens, how they wound!
	Some slain before; some dying; some their friends
	O'er borne i' the former wave: ten, chased by one,
	Are now each one the slaughter-man of twenty:
	Those that would die or ere resist are grown
	The mortal bugs o' the field.

Lord	This was strange chance
	A narrow lane, an old man, and two boys.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	Nay, do not wonder at it: you are made
	Rather to wonder at the things you hear
	Than to work any. Will you rhyme upon't,
	And vent it for a mockery? Here is one:
	'Two boys, an old man twice a boy, a lane,
	Preserved the Britons, was the Romans' bane.'

Lord	Nay, be not angry, sir.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	'Lack, to what end?
	Who dares not stand his foe, I'll be his friend;
	For if he'll do as he is made to do,
	I know he'll quickly fly my friendship too.
	You have put me into rhyme.

Lord	Farewell; you're angry.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	Still going?

	[Exit Lord]

	This is a lord! O noble misery,
	To be i' the field, and ask 'what news?' of me!
	To-day how many would have given their honours
	To have saved their carcasses! took heel to do't,
	And yet died too! I, in mine own woe charm'd,
	Could not find death where I did hear him groan,
	Nor feel him where he struck: being an ugly monster,
	'Tis strange he hides him in fresh cups, soft beds,
	Sweet words; or hath more ministers than we
	That draw his knives i' the war. Well, I will find him
	For being now a favourer to the Briton,
	No more a Briton, I have resumed again
	The part I came in: fight I will no more,
	But yield me to the veriest hind that shall
	Once touch my shoulder. Great the slaughter is
	Here made by the Roman; great the answer be
	Britons must take. For me, my ransom's death;
	On either side I come to spend my breath;
	Which neither here I'll keep nor bear again,
	But end it by some means for Imogen.

	[Enter two British Captains and Soldiers]

First Captain	Great Jupiter be praised! Lucius is taken.
	'Tis thought the old man and his sons were angels.

Second Captain	There was a fourth man, in a silly habit,
	That gave the affront with them.

First Captain	So 'tis reported:
	But none of 'em can be found. Stand! who's there?

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	A Roman,
	Who had not now been drooping here, if seconds
	Had answer'd him.

Second Captain	                  Lay hands on him; a dog!
	A leg of Rome shall not return to tell
	What crows have peck'd them here. He brags
	his service
	As if he were of note: bring him to the king.

	[Enter CYMBELINE, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, ARVIRAGUS,
	PISANIO, Soldiers, Attendants, and Roman Captives.
	The Captains present POSTHUMUS LEONATUS to
	CYMBELINE, who delivers him over to a Gaoler:
	then exeunt omnes]




	CYMBELINE


ACT V



SCENE IV	A British prison.


	[Enter POSTHUMUS LEONATUS and two Gaolers]

First Gaoler	You shall not now be stol'n, you have locks upon you;
	So graze as you find pasture.

Second Gaoler	Ay, or a stomach.

	[Exeunt Gaolers]

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	Most welcome, bondage! for thou art away,
	think, to liberty: yet am I better
	Than one that's sick o' the gout; since he had rather
	Groan so in perpetuity than be cured
	By the sure physician, death, who is the key
	To unbar these locks. My conscience, thou art fetter'd
	More than my shanks and wrists: you good gods, give me
	The penitent instrument to pick that bolt,
	Then, free for ever! Is't enough I am sorry?
	So children temporal fathers do appease;
	Gods are more full of mercy. Must I repent?
	I cannot do it better than in gyves,
	Desired more than constrain'd: to satisfy,
	If of my freedom 'tis the main part, take
	No stricter render of me than my all.
	I know you are more clement than vile men,
	Who of their broken debtors take a third,
	A sixth, a tenth, letting them thrive again
	On their abatement: that's not my desire:
	For Imogen's dear life take mine; and though
	'Tis not so dear, yet 'tis a life; you coin'd it:
	'Tween man and man they weigh not every stamp;
	Though light, take pieces for the figure's sake:
	You rather mine, being yours: and so, great powers,
	If you will take this audit, take this life,
	And cancel these cold bonds. O Imogen!
	I'll speak to thee in silence.

	[Sleeps]

	[Solemn music. Enter, as in an apparition,
	SICILIUS LEONATUS, father to Posthumus Leonatus,
	an old man, attired like a warrior; leading in
	his hand an ancient matron, his wife, and mother
	to Posthumus Leonatus, with music before them:
	then, after other music, follow the two young
	Leonati, brothers to Posthumus Leonatus, with
	wounds as they died in the wars. They circle
	Posthumus Leonatus round, as he lies sleeping]

Sicilius Leonatus	No more, thou thunder-master, show
	Thy spite on mortal flies:
	With Mars fall out, with Juno chide,
	That thy adulteries
	Rates and revenges.
	Hath my poor boy done aught but well,
	Whose face I never saw?
	I died whilst in the womb he stay'd
	Attending nature's law:
	Whose father then, as men report
	Thou orphans' father art,
	Thou shouldst have been, and shielded him
	From this earth-vexing smart.

Mother	Lucina lent not me her aid,
	But took me in my throes;
	That from me was Posthumus ript,
	Came crying 'mongst his foes,
	A thing of pity!

Sicilius Leonatus	Great nature, like his ancestry,
	Moulded the stuff so fair,
	That he deserved the praise o' the world,
	As great Sicilius' heir.

First Brother	When once he was mature for man,
	In Britain where was he
	That could stand up his parallel;
	Or fruitful object be
	In eye of Imogen, that best
	Could deem his dignity?

Mother	With marriage wherefore was he mock'd,
	To be exiled, and thrown
	From Leonati seat, and cast
	From her his dearest one,
	Sweet Imogen?

Sicilius Leonatus	Why did you suffer Iachimo,
	Slight thing of Italy,
	To taint his nobler heart and brain
	With needless jealosy;
	And to become the geck and scorn
	O' th' other's villany?

Second Brother	For this from stiller seats we came,
	Our parents and us twain,
	That striking in our country's cause
	Fell bravely and were slain,
	Our fealty and Tenantius' right
	With honour to maintain.

First Brother	Like hardiment Posthumus hath
	To Cymbeline perform'd:
	Then, Jupiter, thou king of gods,
	Why hast thou thus adjourn'd
	The graces for his merits due,
	Being all to dolours turn'd?

Sicilius Leonatus	Thy crystal window ope; look out;
	No longer exercise
	Upon a valiant race thy harsh
	And potent injuries.

Mother	Since, Jupiter, our son is good,
	Take off his miseries.

Sicilius Leonatus	Peep through thy marble mansion; help;
	Or we poor ghosts will cry
	To the shining synod of the rest
	Against thy deity.


First Brother	|   Help, Jupiter; or we appeal,
	|   And from thy justice fly.
Second Brother	|


	[Jupiter descends in thunder and lightning, sitting
	upon an eagle: he throws a thunderbolt. The
	Apparitions fall on their knees]

Jupiter	No more, you petty spirits of region low,
	Offend our hearing; hush! How dare you ghosts
	Accuse the thunderer, whose bolt, you know,
	Sky-planted batters all rebelling coasts?
	Poor shadows of Elysium, hence, and rest
	Upon your never-withering banks of flowers:
	Be not with mortal accidents opprest;
	No care of yours it is; you know 'tis ours.
	Whom best I love I cross; to make my gift,
	The more delay'd, delighted. Be content;
	Your low-laid son our godhead will uplift:
	His comforts thrive, his trials well are spent.
	Our Jovial star reign'd at his birth, and in
	Our temple was he married. Rise, and fade.
	He shall be lord of lady Imogen,
	And happier much by his affliction made.
	This tablet lay upon his breast, wherein
	Our pleasure his full fortune doth confine:
	and so, away: no further with your din
	Express impatience, lest you stir up mine.
	Mount, eagle, to my palace crystalline.

	[Ascends]

Sicilius Leonatus	He came in thunder; his celestial breath
	Was sulphurous to smell: the holy eagle
	Stoop'd as to foot us: his ascension is
	More sweet than our blest fields: his royal bird
	Prunes the immortal wing and cloys his beak,
	As when his god is pleased.

All	Thanks, Jupiter!

Sicilius Leonatus	The marble pavement closes, he is enter'd
	His radiant root. Away! and, to be blest,
	Let us with care perform his great behest.

	[The Apparitions vanish]

Posthumus Leonatus	[Waking]  Sleep, thou hast been a grandsire, and begot
	A father to me; and thou hast created
	A mother and two brothers: but, O scorn!
	Gone! they went hence so soon as they were born:
	And so I am awake. Poor wretches that depend
	On greatness' favour dream as I have done,
	Wake and find nothing. But, alas, I swerve:
	Many dream not to find, neither deserve,
	And yet are steep'd in favours: so am I,
	That have this golden chance and know not why.
	What fairies haunt this ground? A book? O rare one!
	Be not, as is our fangled world, a garment
	Nobler than that it covers: let thy effects
	So follow, to be most unlike our courtiers,
	As good as promise.

	[Reads]

	'When as a lion's whelp shall, to himself unknown,
	without seeking find, and be embraced by a piece of
	tender air; and when from a stately cedar shall be
	lopped branches, which, being dead many years,
	shall after revive, be jointed to the old stock and
	freshly grow; then shall Posthumus end his miseries,
	Britain be fortunate and flourish in peace and plenty.'
	'Tis still a dream, or else such stuff as madmen
	Tongue and brain not; either both or nothing;
	Or senseless speaking or a speaking such
	As sense cannot untie. Be what it is,
	The action of my life is like it, which
	I'll keep, if but for sympathy.

	[Re-enter First Gaoler]

First Gaoler	Come, sir, are you ready for death?

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	Over-roasted rather; ready long ago.

First Gaoler	Hanging is the word, sir: if
	you be ready for that, you are well cooked.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	So, if I prove a good repast to the
	spectators, the dish pays the shot.

First Gaoler	A heavy reckoning for you, sir. But the comfort is,
	you shall be called to no more payments, fear no
	more tavern-bills; which are often the sadness of
	parting, as the procuring of mirth: you come in
	flint for want of meat, depart reeling with too
	much drink; sorry that you have paid too much, and
	sorry that you are paid too much; purse and brain
	both empty; the brain the heavier for being too
	light, the purse too light, being drawn of
	heaviness: of this contradiction you shall now be
	quit. O, the charity of a penny cord! It sums up
	thousands in a trice: you have no true debitor and
	creditor but it; of what's past, is, and to come,
	the discharge: your neck, sir, is pen, book and
	counters; so the acquittance follows.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	I am merrier to die than thou art to live.

First Gaoler	Indeed, sir, he that sleeps feels not the
	tooth-ache: but a man that were to sleep your
	sleep, and a hangman to help him to bed, I think he
	would change places with his officer; for, look you,
	sir, you know not which way you shall go.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	Yes, indeed do I, fellow.

First Gaoler	Your death has eyes in 's head then; I have not seen
	him so pictured: you must either be directed by
	some that take upon them to know, or do take upon
	yourself that which I am sure you do not know, or
	jump the after inquiry on your own peril: and how
	you shall speed in your journey's end, I think you'll
	never return to tell one.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	I tell thee, fellow, there are none want eyes to
	direct them the way I am going, but such as wink and
	will not use them.

First Gaoler	What an infinite mock is this, that a man should
	have the best use of eyes to see the way of
	blindness! I am sure hanging's the way of winking.

	[Enter a Messenger]

Messenger	Knock off his manacles; bring your prisoner to the king.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	Thou bring'st good news; I am called to be made free.

First Gaoler	I'll be hang'd then.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	Thou shalt be then freer than a gaoler; no bolts for the dead.

	[Exeunt POSTHUMUS LEONATUS and Messenger]

First Gaoler	Unless a man would marry a gallows and beget young
	gibbets, I never saw one so prone. Yet, on my
	conscience, there are verier knaves desire to live,
	for all he be a Roman: and there be some of them
	too that die against their wills; so should I, if I
	were one. I would we were all of one mind, and one
	mind good; O, there were desolation of gaolers and
	gallowses! I speak against my present profit, but
	my wish hath a preferment in 't.

	[Exeunt]




	CYMBELINE


ACT V



SCENE V	Cymbeline's tent.


	[Enter CYMBELINE, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, ARVIRAGUS,
	PISANIO, Lords, Officers, and Attendants]

CYMBELINE	Stand by my side, you whom the gods have made
	Preservers of my throne. Woe is my heart
	That the poor soldier that so richly fought,
	Whose rags shamed gilded arms, whose naked breast
	Stepp'd before larges of proof, cannot be found:
	He shall be happy that can find him, if
	Our grace can make him so.

BELARIUS	I never saw
	Such noble fury in so poor a thing;
	Such precious deeds in one that promises nought
	But beggary and poor looks.

CYMBELINE	No tidings of him?

PISANIO	He hath been search'd among the dead and living,
	But no trace of him.

CYMBELINE	To my grief, I am
	The heir of his reward;

	[To BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS]

		    which I will add
	To you, the liver, heart and brain of Britain,
	By whom I grant she lives. 'Tis now the time
	To ask of whence you are. Report it.

BELARIUS	Sir,
	In Cambria are we born, and gentlemen:
	Further to boast were neither true nor modest,
	Unless I add, we are honest.

CYMBELINE	Bow your knees.
	Arise my knights o' the battle: I create you
	Companions to our person and will fit you
	With dignities becoming your estates.

	[Enter CORNELIUS and Ladies]

	There's business in these faces. Why so sadly
	Greet you our victory? you look like Romans,
	And not o' the court of Britain.

CORNELIUS	Hail, great king!
	To sour your happiness, I must report
	The queen is dead.

CYMBELINE	Who worse than a physician
	Would this report become? But I consider,
	By medicine life may be prolong'd, yet death
	Will seize the doctor too. How ended she?

CORNELIUS	With horror, madly dying, like her life,
	Which, being cruel to the world, concluded
	Most cruel to herself. What she confess'd
	I will report, so please you: these her women
	Can trip me, if I err; who with wet cheeks
	Were present when she finish'd.

CYMBELINE	Prithee, say.

CORNELIUS	First, she confess'd she never loved you, only
	Affected greatness got by you, not you:
	Married your royalty, was wife to your place;
	Abhorr'd your person.

CYMBELINE	She alone knew this;
	And, but she spoke it dying, I would not
	Believe her lips in opening it. Proceed.

CORNELIUS	Your daughter, whom she bore in hand to love
	With such integrity, she did confess
	Was as a scorpion to her sight; whose life,
	But that her flight prevented it, she had
	Ta'en off by poison.

CYMBELINE	O most delicate fiend!
	Who is 't can read a woman? Is there more?

CORNELIUS	More, sir, and worse. She did confess she had
	For you a mortal mineral; which, being took,
	Should by the minute feed on life and lingering
	By inches waste you: in which time she purposed,
	By watching, weeping, tendance, kissing, to
	O'ercome you with her show, and in time,
	When she had fitted you with her craft, to work
	Her son into the adoption of the crown:
	But, failing of her end by his strange absence,
	Grew shameless-desperate; open'd, in despite
	Of heaven and men, her purposes; repented
	The evils she hatch'd were not effected; so
	Despairing died.

CYMBELINE	                  Heard you all this, her women?

First Lady	We did, so please your highness.

CYMBELINE	Mine eyes
	Were not in fault, for she was beautiful;
	Mine ears, that heard her flattery; nor my heart,
	That thought her like her seeming; it had
	been vicious
	To have mistrusted her: yet, O my daughter!
	That it was folly in me, thou mayst say,
	And prove it in thy feeling. Heaven mend all!

	[Enter LUCIUS, IACHIMO, the Soothsayer, and other
	Roman Prisoners, guarded; POSTHUMUS LEONATUS
	behind, and IMOGEN]

	Thou comest not, Caius, now for tribute that
	The Britons have razed out, though with the loss
	Of many a bold one; whose kinsmen have made suit
	That their good souls may be appeased with slaughter
	Of you their captives, which ourself have granted:
	So think of your estate.

CAIUS LUCIUS	Consider, sir, the chance of war: the day
	Was yours by accident; had it gone with us,
	We should not, when the blood was cool,
	have threaten'd
	Our prisoners with the sword. But since the gods
	Will have it thus, that nothing but our lives
	May be call'd ransom, let it come: sufficeth
	A Roman with a Roman's heart can suffer:
	Augustus lives to think on't: and so much
	For my peculiar care. This one thing only
	I will entreat; my boy, a Briton born,
	Let him be ransom'd: never master had
	A page so kind, so duteous, diligent,
	So tender over his occasions, true,
	So feat, so nurse-like: let his virtue join
	With my request, which I make bold your highness
	Cannot deny; he hath done no Briton harm,
	Though he have served a Roman: save him, sir,
	And spare no blood beside.

CYMBELINE	I have surely seen him:
	His favour is familiar to me. Boy,
	Thou hast look'd thyself into my grace,
	And art mine own. I know not why, wherefore,
	To say 'live, boy:' ne'er thank thy master; live:
	And ask of Cymbeline what boon thou wilt,
	Fitting my bounty and thy state, I'll give it;
	Yea, though thou do demand a prisoner,
	The noblest ta'en.

IMOGEN	                  I humbly thank your highness.

CAIUS LUCIUS	I do not bid thee beg my life, good lad;
	And yet I know thou wilt.

IMOGEN	No, no: alack,
	There's other work in hand: I see a thing
	Bitter to me as death: your life, good master,
	Must shuffle for itself.

CAIUS LUCIUS	The boy disdains me,
	He leaves me, scorns me: briefly die their joys
	That place them on the truth of girls and boys.
	Why stands he so perplex'd?

CYMBELINE	What wouldst thou, boy?
	I love thee more and more: think more and more
	What's best to ask. Know'st him thou look'st on? speak,
	Wilt have him live? Is he thy kin? thy friend?

IMOGEN	He is a Roman; no more kin to me
	Than I to your highness; who, being born your vassal,
	Am something nearer.

CYMBELINE	Wherefore eyest him so?

IMOGEN	I'll tell you, sir, in private, if you please
	To give me hearing.

CYMBELINE	Ay, with all my heart,
	And lend my best attention. What's thy name?

IMOGEN	Fidele, sir.

CYMBELINE	                  Thou'rt my good youth, my page;
	I'll be thy master: walk with me; speak freely.

	[CYMBELINE and IMOGEN converse apart]

BELARIUS	Is not this boy revived from death?

ARVIRAGUS	One sand another
	Not more resembles that sweet rosy lad
	Who died, and was Fidele. What think you?

GUIDERIUS	The same dead thing alive.

BELARIUS	Peace, peace! see further; he eyes us not; forbear;
	Creatures may be alike: were 't he, I am sure
	He would have spoke to us.

GUIDERIUS	But we saw him dead.

BELARIUS	Be silent; let's see further.

PISANIO	[Aside]	It is my mistress:
	Since she is living, let the time run on
	To good or bad.

	[CYMBELINE and IMOGEN come forward]

CYMBELINE	                  Come, stand thou by our side;
	Make thy demand aloud.

	[To IACHIMO]
		  Sir, step you forth;
	Give answer to this boy, and do it freely;
	Or, by our greatness and the grace of it,
	Which is our honour, bitter torture shall
	Winnow the truth from falsehood. On, speak to him.

IMOGEN	My boon is, that this gentleman may render
	Of whom he had this ring.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	[Aside]                 What's that to him?

CYMBELINE	That diamond upon your finger, say
	How came it yours?

IACHIMO	Thou'lt torture me to leave unspoken that
	Which, to be spoke, would torture thee.

CYMBELINE	How! me?

IACHIMO	I am glad to be constrain'd to utter that
	Which torments me to conceal. By villany
	I got this ring: 'twas Leonatus' jewel;
	Whom thou didst banish; and--which more may
	grieve thee,
	As it doth me--a nobler sir ne'er lived
	'Twixt sky and ground. Wilt thou hear more, my lord?

CYMBELINE	All that belongs to this.

IACHIMO	That paragon, thy daughter,--
	For whom my heart drops blood, and my false spirits
	Quail to remember--Give me leave; I faint.

CYMBELINE	My daughter! what of her? Renew thy strength:
	I had rather thou shouldst live while nature will
	Than die ere I hear more: strive, man, and speak.

IACHIMO	Upon a time,--unhappy was the clock
	That struck the hour!--it was in Rome,--accursed
	The mansion where!--'twas at a feast,--O, would
	Our viands had been poison'd, or at least
	Those which I heaved to head!--the good Posthumus--
	What should I say? he was too good to be
	Where ill men were; and was the best of all
	Amongst the rarest of good ones,--sitting sadly,
	Hearing us praise our loves of Italy
	For beauty that made barren the swell'd boast
	Of him that best could speak, for feature, laming
	The shrine of Venus, or straight-pight Minerva.
	Postures beyond brief nature, for condition,
	A shop of all the qualities that man
	Loves woman for, besides that hook of wiving,
	Fairness which strikes the eye--

CYMBELINE	I stand on fire:
	Come to the matter.

IACHIMO	All too soon I shall,
	Unless thou wouldst grieve quickly. This Posthumus,
	Most like a noble lord in love and one
	That had a royal lover, took his hint;
	And, not dispraising whom we praised,--therein
	He was as calm as virtue--he began
	His mistress' picture; which by his tongue
	being made,
	And then a mind put in't, either our brags
	Were crack'd of kitchen-trolls, or his description
	Proved us unspeaking sots.

CYMBELINE	Nay, nay, to the purpose.

IACHIMO	Your daughter's chastity--there it begins.
	He spake of her, as Dian had hot dreams,
	And she alone were cold: whereat I, wretch,
	Made scruple of his praise; and wager'd with him
	Pieces of gold 'gainst this which then he wore
	Upon his honour'd finger, to attain
	In suit the place of's bed and win this ring
	By hers and mine adultery. He, true knight,
	No lesser of her honour confident
	Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring;
	And would so, had it been a carbuncle
	Of Phoebus' wheel, and might so safely, had it
	Been all the worth of's car. Away to Britain
	Post I in this design: well may you, sir,
	Remember me at court; where I was taught
	Of your chaste daughter the wide difference
	'Twixt amorous and villanous. Being thus quench'd
	Of hope, not longing, mine Italian brain
	'Gan in your duller Britain operate
	Most vilely; for my vantage, excellent:
	And, to be brief, my practise so prevail'd,
	That I return'd with simular proof enough
	To make the noble Leonatus mad,
	By wounding his belief in her renown
	With tokens thus, and thus; averting notes
	Of chamber-hanging, pictures, this her bracelet,--
	O cunning, how I got it!--nay, some marks
	Of secret on her person, that he could not
	But think her bond of chastity quite crack'd,
	I having ta'en the forfeit. Whereupon--
	Methinks, I see him now--

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	[Advancing]             Ay, so thou dost,
	Italian fiend! Ay me, most credulous fool,
	Egregious murderer, thief, any thing
	That's due to all the villains past, in being,
	To come! O, give me cord, or knife, or poison,
	Some upright justicer! Thou, king, send out
	For torturers ingenious: it is I
	That all the abhorred things o' the earth amend
	By being worse than they. I am Posthumus,
	That kill'd thy daughter:--villain-like, I lie--
	That caused a lesser villain than myself,
	A sacrilegious thief, to do't: the temple
	Of virtue was she; yea, and she herself.
	Spit, and throw stones, cast mire upon me, set
	The dogs o' the street to bay me: every villain
	Be call'd Posthumus Leonitus; and
	Be villany less than 'twas! O Imogen!
	My queen, my life, my wife! O Imogen,
	Imogen, Imogen!

IMOGEN	                  Peace, my lord; hear, hear--

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	Shall's have a play of this? Thou scornful page,
	There lie thy part.

	[Striking her: she falls]

PISANIO	O, gentlemen, help!
	Mine and your mistress! O, my lord Posthumus!
	You ne'er kill'd Imogen til now. Help, help!
	Mine honour'd lady!

CYMBELINE	Does the world go round?

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	How come these staggers on me?

PISANIO	Wake, my mistress!

CYMBELINE	If this be so, the gods do mean to strike me
	To death with mortal joy.

PISANIO	How fares thy mistress?

IMOGEN	O, get thee from my sight;
	Thou gavest me poison: dangerous fellow, hence!
	Breathe not where princes are.

CYMBELINE	The tune of Imogen!

PISANIO	Lady,
	The gods throw stones of sulphur on me, if
	That box I gave you was not thought by me
	A precious thing: I had it from the queen.

CYMBELINE	New matter still?

IMOGEN	                  It poison'd me.

CORNELIUS	O gods!
	I left out one thing which the queen confess'd.
	Which must approve thee honest: 'If Pisanio
	Have,' said she, 'given his mistress that confection
	Which I gave him for cordial, she is served
	As I would serve a rat.'

CYMBELINE	What's this, Comelius?

CORNELIUS	The queen, sir, very oft importuned me
	To temper poisons for her, still pretending
	The satisfaction of her knowledge only
	In killing creatures vile, as cats and dogs,
	Of no esteem: I, dreading that her purpose
	Was of more danger, did compound for her
	A certain stuff, which, being ta'en, would cease
	The present power of life, but in short time
	All offices of nature should again
	Do their due functions. Have you ta'en of it?

IMOGEN	Most like I did, for I was dead.

BELARIUS	My boys,
	There was our error.

GUIDERIUS	This is, sure, Fidele.

IMOGEN	Why did you throw your wedded lady from you?
	Think that you are upon a rock; and now
	Throw me again.

	[Embracing him]

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	Hang there like a fruit, my soul,
	Till the tree die!

CYMBELINE	                  How now, my flesh, my child!
	What, makest thou me a dullard in this act?
	Wilt thou not speak to me?

IMOGEN	[Kneeling]               Your blessing, sir.

BELARIUS	[To GUIDERIUS and ARVIRAGUS]  Though you did love
	this youth, I blame ye not:
	You had a motive for't.

CYMBELINE	My tears that fall
	Prove holy water on thee! Imogen,
	Thy mother's dead.

IMOGEN	I am sorry for't, my lord.

CYMBELINE	O, she was nought; and long of her it was
	That we meet here so strangely: but her son
	Is gone, we know not how nor where.

PISANIO	My lord,
	Now fear is from me, I'll speak troth. Lord Cloten,
	Upon my lady's missing, came to me
	With his sword drawn; foam'd at the mouth, and swore,
	If I discover'd not which way she was gone,
	It was my instant death. By accident,
	had a feigned letter of my master's
	Then in my pocket; which directed him
	To seek her on the mountains near to Milford;
	Where, in a frenzy, in my master's garments,
	Which he enforced from me, away he posts
	With unchaste purpose and with oath to violate
	My lady's honour: what became of him
	I further know not.

GUIDERIUS	Let me end the story:
	I slew him there.

CYMBELINE	Marry, the gods forfend!
	I would not thy good deeds should from my lips
	Pluck a bard sentence: prithee, valiant youth,
	Deny't again.

GUIDERIUS	                  I have spoke it, and I did it.

CYMBELINE	He was a prince.

GUIDERIUS	A most incivil one: the wrongs he did me
	Were nothing prince-like; for he did provoke me
	With language that would make me spurn the sea,
	If it could so roar to me: I cut off's head;
	And am right glad he is not standing here
	To tell this tale of mine.

CYMBELINE	I am sorry for thee:
	By thine own tongue thou art condemn'd, and must
	Endure our law: thou'rt dead.

IMOGEN	That headless man
	I thought had been my lord.

CYMBELINE	Bind the offender,
	And take him from our presence.

BELARIUS	Stay, sir king:
	This man is better than the man he slew,
	As well descended as thyself; and hath
	More of thee merited than a band of Clotens
	Had ever scar for.

	[To the Guard]

	Let his arms alone;
	They were not born for bondage.

CYMBELINE	Why, old soldier,
	Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for,
	By tasting of our wrath? How of descent
	As good as we?

ARVIRAGUS	                  In that he spake too far.

CYMBELINE	And thou shalt die for't.

BELARIUS	We will die all three:
	But I will prove that two on's are as good
	As I have given out him. My sons, I must,
	For mine own part, unfold a dangerous speech,
	Though, haply, well for you.

ARVIRAGUS	Your danger's ours.

GUIDERIUS	And our good his.

BELARIUS	                  Have at it then, by leave.
	Thou hadst, great king, a subject who
	Was call'd Belarius.

CYMBELINE	What of him? he is
	A banish'd traitor.

BELARIUS	He it is that hath
	Assumed this age; indeed a banish'd man;
	I know not how a traitor.

CYMBELINE	Take him hence:
	The whole world shall not save him.

BELARIUS	Not too hot:
	First pay me for the nursing of thy sons;
	And let it be confiscate all, so soon
	As I have received it.

CYMBELINE	Nursing of my sons!

BELARIUS	I am too blunt and saucy: here's my knee:
	Ere I arise, I will prefer my sons;
	Then spare not the old father. Mighty sir,
	These two young gentlemen, that call me father
	And think they are my sons, are none of mine;
	They are the issue of your loins, my liege,
	And blood of your begetting.

CYMBELINE	How! my issue!

BELARIUS	So sure as you your father's. I, old Morgan,
	Am that Belarius whom you sometime banish'd:
	Your pleasure was my mere offence, my punishment
	Itself, and all my treason; that I suffer'd
	Was all the harm I did. These gentle princes--
	For such and so they are--these twenty years
	Have I train'd up: those arts they have as I
	Could put into them; my breeding was, sir, as
	Your highness knows. Their nurse, Euriphile,
	Whom for the theft I wedded, stole these children
	Upon my banishment: I moved her to't,
	Having received the punishment before,
	For that which I did then: beaten for loyalty
	Excited me to treason: their dear loss,
	The more of you 'twas felt, the more it shaped
	Unto my end of stealing them. But, gracious sir,
	Here are your sons again; and I must lose
	Two of the sweet'st companions in the world.
	The benediction of these covering heavens
	Fall on their heads like dew! for they are worthy
	To inlay heaven with stars.

CYMBELINE	Thou weep'st, and speak'st.
	The service that you three have done is more
	Unlike than this thou tell'st. I lost my children:
	If these be they, I know not how to wish
	A pair of worthier sons.

BELARIUS	Be pleased awhile.
	This gentleman, whom I call Polydore,
	Most worthy prince, as yours, is true Guiderius:
	This gentleman, my Cadwal, Arviragus,
	Your younger princely son; he, sir, was lapp'd
	In a most curious mantle, wrought by the hand
	Of his queen mother, which for more probation
	I can with ease produce.

CYMBELINE	Guiderius had
	Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star;
	It was a mark of wonder.

BELARIUS	This is he;
	Who hath upon him still that natural stamp:
	It was wise nature's end in the donation,
	To be his evidence now.

CYMBELINE	O, what, am I
	A mother to the birth of three? Ne'er mother
	Rejoiced deliverance more. Blest pray you be,
	That, after this strange starting from your orbs,
	may reign in them now! O Imogen,
	Thou hast lost by this a kingdom.

IMOGEN	No, my lord;
	I have got two worlds by 't. O my gentle brothers,
	Have we thus met? O, never say hereafter
	But I am truest speaker you call'd me brother,
	When I was but your sister; I you brothers,
	When ye were so indeed.

CYMBELINE	Did you e'er meet?

ARVIRAGUS	Ay, my good lord.

GUIDERIUS	                  And at first meeting loved;
	Continued so, until we thought he died.

CORNELIUS	By the queen's dram she swallow'd.

CYMBELINE	O rare instinct!
	When shall I hear all through? This fierce
	abridgement
	Hath to it circumstantial branches, which
	Distinction should be rich in. Where? how lived You?
	And when came you to serve our Roman captive?
	How parted with your brothers? how first met them?
	Why fled you from the court? and whither? These,
	And your three motives to the battle, with
	I know not how much more, should be demanded;
	And all the other by-dependencies,
	From chance to chance: but nor the time nor place
	Will serve our long inter'gatories. See,
	Posthumus anchors upon Imogen,
	And she, like harmless lightning, throws her eye
	On him, her brother, me, her master, hitting
	Each object with a joy: the counterchange
	Is severally in all. Let's quit this ground,
	And smoke the temple with our sacrifices.

	[To BELARIUS]

	Thou art my brother; so we'll hold thee ever.

IMOGEN	You are my father too, and did relieve me,
	To see this gracious season.

CYMBELINE	All o'erjoy'd,
	Save these in bonds: let them be joyful too,
	For they shall taste our comfort.

IMOGEN	My good master,
	I will yet do you service.

CAIUS LUCIUS	Happy be you!

CYMBELINE	The forlorn soldier, that so nobly fought,
	He would have well becomed this place, and graced
	The thankings of a king.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	I am, sir,
	The soldier that did company these three
	In poor beseeming; 'twas a fitment for
	The purpose I then follow'd. That I was he,
	Speak, Iachimo: I had you down and might
	Have made you finish.

IACHIMO	[Kneeling]          I am down again:
	But now my heavy conscience sinks my knee,
	As then your force did. Take that life, beseech you,
	Which I so often owe: but your ring first;
	And here the bracelet of the truest princess
	That ever swore her faith.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	Kneel not to me:
	The power that I have on you is, to spare you;
	The malice towards you to forgive you: live,
	And deal with others better.

CYMBELINE	Nobly doom'd!
	We'll learn our freeness of a son-in-law;
	Pardon's the word to all.

ARVIRAGUS	You holp us, sir,
	As you did mean indeed to be our brother;
	Joy'd are we that you are.

POSTHUMUS LEONATUS	Your servant, princes. Good my lord of Rome,
	Call forth your soothsayer: as I slept, methought
	Great Jupiter, upon his eagle back'd,
	Appear'd to me, with other spritely shows
	Of mine own kindred: when I waked, I found
	This label on my bosom; whose containing
	Is so from sense in hardness, that I can
	Make no collection of it: let him show
	His skill in the construction.

CAIUS LUCIUS	Philarmonus!

Soothsayer	Here, my good lord.

CAIUS LUCIUS	Read, and declare the meaning.

Soothsayer	[Reads]  'When as a lion's whelp shall, to himself
	unknown, without seeking find, and be embraced by a
	piece of tender air; and when from a stately cedar
	shall be lopped branches, which, being dead many
	years, shall after revive, be jointed to the old
	stock, and freshly grow; then shall Posthumus end
	his miseries, Britain be fortunate and flourish in
	peace and plenty.'
	Thou, Leonatus, art the lion's whelp;
	The fit and apt construction of thy name,
	Being Leonatus, doth import so much.

	[To CYMBELINE]

	The piece of tender air, thy virtuous daughter,
	Which we call 'mollis aer;' and 'mollis aer'
	We term it 'mulier:' which 'mulier' I divine
	Is this most constant wife; who, even now,
	Answering the letter of the oracle,
	Unknown to you, unsought, were clipp'd about
	With this most tender air.

CYMBELINE	This hath some seeming.

Soothsayer	The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline,
	Personates thee: and thy lopp'd branches point
	Thy two sons forth; who, by Belarius stol'n,
	For many years thought dead, are now revived,
	To the majestic cedar join'd, whose issue
	Promises Britain peace and plenty.

CYMBELINE	Well
	My peace we will begin. And, Caius Lucius,
	Although the victor, we submit to Caesar,
	And to the Roman empire; promising
	To pay our wonted tribute, from the which
	We were dissuaded by our wicked queen;
	Whom heavens, in justice, both on her and hers,
	Have laid most heavy hand.

Soothsayer	The fingers of the powers above do tune
	The harmony of this peace. The vision
	Which I made known to Lucius, ere the stroke
	Of this yet scarce-cold battle, at this instant
	Is full accomplish'd; for the Roman eagle,
	From south to west on wing soaring aloft,
	Lessen'd herself, and in the beams o' the sun
	So vanish'd: which foreshow'd our princely eagle,
	The imperial Caesar, should again unite
	His favour with the radiant Cymbeline,
	Which shines here in the west.

CYMBELINE	Laud we the gods;
	And let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils
	From our blest altars. Publish we this peace
	To all our subjects. Set we forward: let
	A Roman and a British ensign wave
	Friendly together: so through Lud's-town march:
	And in the temple of great Jupiter
	Our peace we'll ratify; seal it with feasts.
	Set on there! Never was a war did cease,
	Ere bloody hands were wash'd, with such a peace.

	[Exeunt]




	THE TEMPEST


	DRAMATIS PERSONAE


ALONSO	King of Naples.

SEBASTIAN	his brother.

PROSPERO	the right Duke of Milan.

ANTONIO	his brother, the usurping Duke of Milan.

FERDINAND	son to the King of Naples.

GONZALO	an honest old Counsellor.


ADRIAN	|
	|  Lords.
FRANCISCO	|


CALIBAN	a savage and deformed Slave.

TRINCULO	a Jester.

STEPHANO	a drunken Butler.

	Master of a Ship. (Master:)

	Boatswain. (Boatswain:)

	Mariners. (Mariners:)

MIRANDA	daughter to Prospero.

ARIEL	an airy Spirit.


IRIS	|
	|
CERES	|
	|
JUNO	|  presented by Spirits.
	|
Nymphs	|
	|
Reapers	|


	Other Spirits attending on Prospero.


SCENE	A ship at Sea: an island.




	THE TEMPEST


ACT I



SCENE I	On a ship at sea: a tempestuous noise
	of thunder and lightning heard.


	[Enter a Master and a Boatswain]

Master	Boatswain!

Boatswain	Here, master: what cheer?

Master	Good, speak to the mariners: fall to't, yarely,
	or we run ourselves aground: bestir, bestir.

	[Exit]

	[Enter Mariners]

Boatswain	Heigh, my hearts! cheerly, cheerly, my hearts!
	yare, yare! Take in the topsail. Tend to the
	master's whistle. Blow, till thou burst thy wind,
	if room enough!

	[Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, FERDINAND,
	GONZALO, and others]

ALONSO	Good boatswain, have care. Where's the master?
	Play the men.

Boatswain	I pray now, keep below.

ANTONIO	Where is the master, boatswain?

Boatswain	Do you not hear him? You mar our labour: keep your
	cabins: you do assist the storm.

GONZALO	Nay, good, be patient.

Boatswain	When the sea is. Hence! What cares these roarers
	for the name of king? To cabin: silence! trouble us not.

GONZALO	Good, yet remember whom thou hast aboard.

Boatswain	None that I more love than myself. You are a
	counsellor; if you can command these elements to
	silence, and work the peace of the present, we will
	not hand a rope more; use your authority: if you
	cannot, give thanks you have lived so long, and make
	yourself ready in your cabin for the mischance of
	the hour, if it so hap. Cheerly, good hearts! Out
	of our way, I say.

	[Exit]

GONZALO	I have great comfort from this fellow: methinks he
	hath no drowning mark upon him; his complexion is
	perfect gallows. Stand fast, good Fate, to his
	hanging: make the rope of his destiny our cable,
	for our own doth little advantage. If he be not
	born to be hanged, our case is miserable.

	[Exeunt]

	[Re-enter Boatswain]

Boatswain	Down with the topmast! yare! lower, lower! Bring
	her to try with main-course.

	[A cry within]

	A plague upon this howling! they are louder than
	the weather or our office.

	[Re-enter SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, and GONZALO]

	Yet again! what do you here? Shall we give o'er
	and drown? Have you a mind to sink?

SEBASTIAN	A pox o' your throat, you bawling, blasphemous,
	incharitable dog!

Boatswain	Work you then.

ANTONIO	Hang, cur! hang, you whoreson, insolent noisemaker!
	We are less afraid to be drowned than thou art.

GONZALO	I'll warrant him for drowning; though the ship were
	no stronger than a nutshell and as leaky as an
	unstanched wench.

Boatswain	Lay her a-hold, a-hold! set her two courses off to
	sea again; lay her off.

	[Enter Mariners wet]

Mariners	All lost! to prayers, to prayers! all lost!

Boatswain	What, must our mouths be cold?

GONZALO	The king and prince at prayers! let's assist them,
	For our case is as theirs.

SEBASTIAN	I'm out of patience.

ANTONIO	We are merely cheated of our lives by drunkards:
	This wide-chapp'd rascal--would thou mightst lie drowning
	The washing of ten tides!

GONZALO	He'll be hang'd yet,
	Though every drop of water swear against it
	And gape at widest to glut him.

	[A confused noise within:   'Mercy on us!'--
	'We split, we split!'--'Farewell, my wife and
	children!'--
	'Farewell, brother!'--'We split, we split, we split!']

ANTONIO	Let's all sink with the king.

SEBASTIAN	Let's take leave of him.

	[Exeunt ANTONIO and SEBASTIAN]

GONZALO	Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an
	acre of barren ground, long heath, brown furze, any
	thing. The wills above be done! but I would fain
	die a dry death.

	[Exeunt]




	THE TEMPEST


ACT I



SCENE II	The island. Before PROSPERO'S cell.


	[Enter PROSPERO and MIRANDA]

MIRANDA	If by your art, my dearest father, you have
	Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them.
	The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch,
	But that the sea, mounting to the welkin's cheek,
	Dashes the fire out. O, I have suffered
	With those that I saw suffer: a brave vessel,
	Who had, no doubt, some noble creature in her,
	Dash'd all to pieces. O, the cry did knock
	Against my very heart. Poor souls, they perish'd.
	Had I been any god of power, I would
	Have sunk the sea within the earth or ere
	It should the good ship so have swallow'd and
	The fraughting souls within her.

PROSPERO	Be collected:
	No more amazement: tell your piteous heart
	There's no harm done.

MIRANDA	O, woe the day!

PROSPERO	No harm.
	I have done nothing but in care of thee,
	Of thee, my dear one, thee, my daughter, who
	Art ignorant of what thou art, nought knowing
	Of whence I am, nor that I am more better
	Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell,
	And thy no greater father.

MIRANDA	More to know
	Did never meddle with my thoughts.

PROSPERO	'Tis time
	I should inform thee farther. Lend thy hand,
	And pluck my magic garment from me. So:

	[Lays down his mantle]

	Lie there, my art. Wipe thou thine eyes; have comfort.
	The direful spectacle of the wreck, which touch'd
	The very virtue of compassion in thee,
	I have with such provision in mine art
	So safely ordered that there is no soul--
	No, not so much perdition as an hair
	Betid to any creature in the vessel
	Which thou heard'st cry, which thou saw'st sink. Sit down;
	For thou must now know farther.

MIRANDA	You have often
	Begun to tell me what I am, but stopp'd
	And left me to a bootless inquisition,
	Concluding 'Stay: not yet.'

PROSPERO	The hour's now come;
	The very minute bids thee ope thine ear;
	Obey and be attentive. Canst thou remember
	A time before we came unto this cell?
	I do not think thou canst, for then thou wast not
	Out three years old.

MIRANDA	Certainly, sir, I can.

PROSPERO	By what? by any other house or person?
	Of any thing the image tell me that
	Hath kept with thy remembrance.

MIRANDA	'Tis far off
	And rather like a dream than an assurance
	That my remembrance warrants. Had I not
	Four or five women once that tended me?

PROSPERO	Thou hadst, and more, Miranda. But how is it
	That this lives in thy mind? What seest thou else
	In the dark backward and abysm of time?
	If thou remember'st aught ere thou camest here,
	How thou camest here thou mayst.

MIRANDA	But that I do not.

PROSPERO	Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve year since,
	Thy father was the Duke of Milan and
	A prince of power.

MIRANDA	                  Sir, are not you my father?

PROSPERO	Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and
	She said thou wast my daughter; and thy father
	Was Duke of Milan; and thou his only heir
	And princess no worse issued.

MIRANDA	O the heavens!
	What foul play had we, that we came from thence?
	Or blessed was't we did?

PROSPERO	Both, both, my girl:
	By foul play, as thou say'st, were we heaved thence,
	But blessedly holp hither.

MIRANDA	O, my heart bleeds
	To think o' the teen that I have turn'd you to,
	Which is from my remembrance! Please you, farther.

PROSPERO	My brother and thy uncle, call'd Antonio--
	I pray thee, mark me--that a brother should
	Be so perfidious!--he whom next thyself
	Of all the world I loved and to him put
	The manage of my state; as at that time
	Through all the signories it was the first
	And Prospero the prime duke, being so reputed
	In dignity, and for the liberal arts
	Without a parallel; those being all my study,
	The government I cast upon my brother
	And to my state grew stranger, being transported
	And rapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle--
	Dost thou attend me?

MIRANDA	Sir, most heedfully.

PROSPERO	Being once perfected how to grant suits,
	How to deny them, who to advance and who
	To trash for over-topping, new created
	The creatures that were mine, I say, or changed 'em,
	Or else new form'd 'em; having both the key
	Of officer and office, set all hearts i' the state
	To what tune pleased his ear; that now he was
	The ivy which had hid my princely trunk,
	And suck'd my verdure out on't. Thou attend'st not.

MIRANDA	O, good sir, I do.

PROSPERO	                  I pray thee, mark me.
	I, thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated
	To closeness and the bettering of my mind
	With that which, but by being so retired,
	O'er-prized all popular rate, in my false brother
	Awaked an evil nature; and my trust,
	Like a good parent, did beget of him
	A falsehood in its contrary as great
	As my trust was; which had indeed no limit,
	A confidence sans bound. He being thus lorded,
	Not only with what my revenue yielded,
	But what my power might else exact, like one
	Who having into truth, by telling of it,
	Made such a sinner of his memory,
	To credit his own lie, he did believe
	He was indeed the duke; out o' the substitution
	And executing the outward face of royalty,
	With all prerogative: hence his ambition growing--
	Dost thou hear?

MIRANDA	                  Your tale, sir, would cure deafness.

PROSPERO	To have no screen between this part he play'd
	And him he play'd it for, he needs will be
	Absolute Milan. Me, poor man, my library
	Was dukedom large enough: of temporal royalties
	He thinks me now incapable; confederates--
	So dry he was for sway--wi' the King of Naples
	To give him annual tribute, do him homage,
	Subject his coronet to his crown and bend
	The dukedom yet unbow'd--alas, poor Milan!--
	To most ignoble stooping.

MIRANDA	O the heavens!

PROSPERO	Mark his condition and the event; then tell me
	If this might be a brother.

MIRANDA	I should sin
	To think but nobly of my grandmother:
	Good wombs have borne bad sons.

PROSPERO	Now the condition.
	The King of Naples, being an enemy
	To me inveterate, hearkens my brother's suit;
	Which was, that he, in lieu o' the premises
	Of homage and I know not how much tribute,
	Should presently extirpate me and mine
	Out of the dukedom and confer fair Milan
	With all the honours on my brother: whereon,
	A treacherous army levied, one midnight
	Fated to the purpose did Antonio open
	The gates of Milan, and, i' the dead of darkness,
	The ministers for the purpose hurried thence
	Me and thy crying self.

MIRANDA	Alack, for pity!
	I, not remembering how I cried out then,
	Will cry it o'er again: it is a hint
	That wrings mine eyes to't.

PROSPERO	Hear a little further
	And then I'll bring thee to the present business
	Which now's upon's; without the which this story
	Were most impertinent.

MIRANDA	Wherefore did they not
	That hour destroy us?

PROSPERO	Well demanded, wench:
	My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst not,
	So dear the love my people bore me, nor set
	A mark so bloody on the business, but
	With colours fairer painted their foul ends.
	In few, they hurried us aboard a bark,
	Bore us some leagues to sea; where they prepared
	A rotten carcass of a boat, not rigg'd,
	Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats
	Instinctively had quit it: there they hoist us,
	To cry to the sea that roar'd to us, to sigh
	To the winds whose pity, sighing back again,
	Did us but loving wrong.

MIRANDA	Alack, what trouble
	Was I then to you!

PROSPERO	                  O, a cherubim
	Thou wast that did preserve me. Thou didst smile.
	Infused with a fortitude from heaven,
	When I have deck'd the sea with drops full salt,
	Under my burthen groan'd; which raised in me
	An undergoing stomach, to bear up
	Against what should ensue.

MIRANDA	How came we ashore?

PROSPERO	By Providence divine.
	Some food we had and some fresh water that
	A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo,
	Out of his charity, being then appointed
	Master of this design, did give us, with
	Rich garments, linens, stuffs and necessaries,
	Which since have steaded much; so, of his gentleness,
	Knowing I loved my books, he furnish'd me
	From mine own library with volumes that
	I prize above my dukedom.

MIRANDA	Would I might
	But ever see that man!

PROSPERO	Now I arise:

	[Resumes his mantle]

	Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow.
	Here in this island we arrived; and here
	Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit
	Than other princesses can that have more time
	For vainer hours and tutors not so careful.

MIRANDA	Heavens thank you for't! And now, I pray you, sir,
	For still 'tis beating in my mind, your reason
	For raising this sea-storm?

PROSPERO	Know thus far forth.
	By accident most strange, bountiful Fortune,
	Now my dear lady, hath mine enemies
	Brought to this shore; and by my prescience
	I find my zenith doth depend upon
	A most auspicious star, whose influence
	If now I court not but omit, my fortunes
	Will ever after droop. Here cease more questions:
	Thou art inclined to sleep; 'tis a good dulness,
	And give it way: I know thou canst not choose.

	[MIRANDA sleeps]

	Come away, servant, come. I am ready now.
	Approach, my Ariel, come.

	[Enter ARIEL]

ARIEL	All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I come
	To answer thy best pleasure; be't to fly,
	To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride
	On the curl'd clouds, to thy strong bidding task
	Ariel and all his quality.

PROSPERO	Hast thou, spirit,
	Perform'd to point the tempest that I bade thee?

ARIEL	To every article.
	I boarded the king's ship; now on the beak,
	Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin,
	I flamed amazement: sometime I'ld divide,
	And burn in many places; on the topmast,
	The yards and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly,
	Then meet and join. Jove's lightnings, the precursors
	O' the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary
	And sight-outrunning were not; the fire and cracks
	Of sulphurous roaring the most mighty Neptune
	Seem to besiege and make his bold waves tremble,
	Yea, his dread trident shake.

PROSPERO	My brave spirit!
	Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil
	Would not infect his reason?

ARIEL	Not a soul
	But felt a fever of the mad and play'd
	Some tricks of desperation. All but mariners
	Plunged in the foaming brine and quit the vessel,
	Then all afire with me: the king's son, Ferdinand,
	With hair up-staring,--then like reeds, not hair,--
	Was the first man that leap'd; cried, 'Hell is empty
	And all the devils are here.'

PROSPERO	Why that's my spirit!
	But was not this nigh shore?

ARIEL	Close by, my master.

PROSPERO	But are they, Ariel, safe?

ARIEL	Not a hair perish'd;
	On their sustaining garments not a blemish,
	But fresher than before: and, as thou badest me,
	In troops I have dispersed them 'bout the isle.
	The king's son have I landed by himself;
	Whom I left cooling of the air with sighs
	In an odd angle of the isle and sitting,
	His arms in this sad knot.

PROSPERO	Of the king's ship
	The mariners say how thou hast disposed
	And all the rest o' the fleet.

ARIEL	Safely in harbour
	Is the king's ship; in the deep nook, where once
	Thou call'dst me up at midnight to fetch dew
	From the still-vex'd Bermoothes, there she's hid:
	The mariners all under hatches stow'd;
	Who, with a charm join'd to their suffer'd labour,
	I have left asleep; and for the rest o' the fleet
	Which I dispersed, they all have met again
	And are upon the Mediterranean flote,
	Bound sadly home for Naples,
	Supposing that they saw the king's ship wreck'd
	And his great person perish.

PROSPERO	Ariel, thy charge
	Exactly is perform'd: but there's more work.
	What is the time o' the day?

ARIEL	Past the mid season.

PROSPERO	At least two glasses. The time 'twixt six and now
	Must by us both be spent most preciously.

ARIEL	Is there more toil? Since thou dost give me pains,
	Let me remember thee what thou hast promised,
	Which is not yet perform'd me.

PROSPERO	How now? moody?
	What is't thou canst demand?

ARIEL	My liberty.

PROSPERO	Before the time be out? no more!

ARIEL	I prithee,
	Remember I have done thee worthy service;
	Told thee no lies, made thee no mistakings, served
	Without or grudge or grumblings: thou didst promise
	To bate me a full year.

PROSPERO	Dost thou forget
	From what a torment I did free thee?

ARIEL	No.

PROSPERO	Thou dost, and think'st it much to tread the ooze
	Of the salt deep,
	To run upon the sharp wind of the north,
	To do me business in the veins o' the earth
	When it is baked with frost.

ARIEL	I do not, sir.

PROSPERO	Thou liest, malignant thing! Hast thou forgot
	The foul witch Sycorax, who with age and envy
	Was grown into a hoop? hast thou forgot her?

ARIEL	No, sir.

PROSPERO	     Thou hast. Where was she born? speak; tell me.

ARIEL	Sir, in Argier.

PROSPERO	                  O, was she so? I must
	Once in a month recount what thou hast been,
	Which thou forget'st. This damn'd witch Sycorax,
	For mischiefs manifold and sorceries terrible
	To enter human hearing, from Argier,
	Thou know'st, was banish'd: for one thing she did
	They would not take her life. Is not this true?

ARIEL	Ay, sir.

PROSPERO	This blue-eyed hag was hither brought with child
	And here was left by the sailors. Thou, my slave,
	As thou report'st thyself, wast then her servant;
	And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate
	To act her earthy and abhorr'd commands,
	Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee,
	By help of her more potent ministers
	And in her most unmitigable rage,
	Into a cloven pine; within which rift
	Imprison'd thou didst painfully remain
	A dozen years; within which space she died
	And left thee there; where thou didst vent thy groans
	As fast as mill-wheels strike. Then was this island--
	Save for the son that she did litter here,
	A freckled whelp hag-born--not honour'd with
	A human shape.

ARIEL	                  Yes, Caliban her son.

PROSPERO	Dull thing, I say so; he, that Caliban
	Whom now I keep in service. Thou best know'st
	What torment I did find thee in; thy groans
	Did make wolves howl and penetrate the breasts
	Of ever angry bears: it was a torment
	To lay upon the damn'd, which Sycorax
	Could not again undo: it was mine art,
	When I arrived and heard thee, that made gape
	The pine and let thee out.

ARIEL	I thank thee, master.

PROSPERO	If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an oak
	And peg thee in his knotty entrails till
	Thou hast howl'd away twelve winters.

ARIEL	Pardon, master;
	I will be correspondent to command
	And do my spiriting gently.

PROSPERO	Do so, and after two days
	I will discharge thee.

ARIEL	That's my noble master!
	What shall I do? say what; what shall I do?

PROSPERO	Go make thyself like a nymph o' the sea: be subject
	To no sight but thine and mine, invisible
	To every eyeball else. Go take this shape
	And hither come in't: go, hence with diligence!

	[Exit ARIEL]

	Awake, dear heart, awake! thou hast slept well; Awake!

MIRANDA	     The strangeness of your story put
	Heaviness in me.

PROSPERO	                  Shake it off. Come on;
	We'll visit Caliban my slave, who never
	Yields us kind answer.

MIRANDA	'Tis a villain, sir,
	I do not love to look on.

PROSPERO	But, as 'tis,
	We cannot miss him: he does make our fire,
	Fetch in our wood and serves in offices
	That profit us. What, ho! slave! Caliban!
	Thou earth, thou! speak.

CALIBAN	[Within]  There's wood enough within.

PROSPERO	Come forth, I say! there's other business for thee:
	Come, thou tortoise! when?

	[Re-enter ARIEL like a water-nymph]

	Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel,
	Hark in thine ear.

ARIEL	                  My lord it shall be done.

	[Exit]

PROSPERO	Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself
	Upon thy wicked dam, come forth!

	[Enter CALIBAN]

CALIBAN	As wicked dew as e'er my mother brush'd
	With raven's feather from unwholesome fen
	Drop on you both! a south-west blow on ye
	And blister you all o'er!

PROSPERO	For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps,
	Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up; urchins
	Shall, for that vast of night that they may work,
	All exercise on thee; thou shalt be pinch'd
	As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging
	Than bees that made 'em.

CALIBAN	I must eat my dinner.
	This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother,
	Which thou takest from me. When thou camest first,
	Thou strokedst me and madest much of me, wouldst give me
	Water with berries in't, and teach me how
	To name the bigger light, and how the less,
	That burn by day and night: and then I loved thee
	And show'd thee all the qualities o' the isle,
	The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place and fertile:
	Cursed be I that did so! All the charms
	Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you!
	For I am all the subjects that you have,
	Which first was mine own king: and here you sty me
	In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me
	The rest o' the island.

PROSPERO	Thou most lying slave,
	Whom stripes may move, not kindness! I have used thee,
	Filth as thou art, with human care, and lodged thee
	In mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violate
	The honour of my child.

CALIBAN	O ho, O ho! would't had been done!
	Thou didst prevent me; I had peopled else
	This isle with Calibans.

PROSPERO	Abhorred slave,
	Which any print of goodness wilt not take,
	Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee,
	Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour
	One thing or other: when thou didst not, savage,
	Know thine own meaning, but wouldst gabble like
	A thing most brutish, I endow'd thy purposes
	With words that made them known. But thy vile race,
	Though thou didst learn, had that in't which
	good natures
	Could not abide to be with; therefore wast thou
	Deservedly confined into this rock,
	Who hadst deserved more than a prison.

CALIBAN	You taught me language; and my profit on't
	Is, I know how to curse. The red plague rid you
	For learning me your language!

PROSPERO	Hag-seed, hence!
	Fetch us in fuel; and be quick, thou'rt best,
	To answer other business. Shrug'st thou, malice?
	If thou neglect'st or dost unwillingly
	What I command, I'll rack thee with old cramps,
	Fill all thy bones with aches, make thee roar
	That beasts shall tremble at thy din.

CALIBAN	No, pray thee.

	[Aside]

	I must obey: his art is of such power,
	It would control my dam's god, Setebos,
	and make a vassal of him.

PROSPERO	So, slave; hence!

	[Exit CALIBAN]

	[Re-enter ARIEL, invisible, playing and singing;
	FERDINAND following]

	ARIEL'S song.

	Come unto these yellow sands,
	And then take hands:
	Courtsied when you have and kiss'd
	The wild waves whist,
	Foot it featly here and there;
	And, sweet sprites, the burthen bear.
	Hark, hark!

	[Burthen [dispersedly, within]  Bow-wow]

	The watch-dogs bark!

	[Burthen Bow-wow]

	Hark, hark! I hear
	The strain of strutting chanticleer
	Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow.

FERDINAND	Where should this music be? i' the air or the earth?
	It sounds no more: and sure, it waits upon
	Some god o' the island. Sitting on a bank,
	Weeping again the king my father's wreck,
	This music crept by me upon the waters,
	Allaying both their fury and my passion
	With its sweet air: thence I have follow'd it,
	Or it hath drawn me rather. But 'tis gone.
	No, it begins again.

	[ARIEL sings]

	Full fathom five thy father lies;
	Of his bones are coral made;
	Those are pearls that were his eyes:
	Nothing of him that doth fade
	But doth suffer a sea-change
	Into something rich and strange.
	Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell

	[Burthen Ding-dong]

	Hark! now I hear them,--Ding-dong, bell.

FERDINAND	The ditty does remember my drown'd father.
	This is no mortal business, nor no sound
	That the earth owes. I hear it now above me.

PROSPERO	The fringed curtains of thine eye advance
	And say what thou seest yond.

MIRANDA	What is't? a spirit?
	Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir,
	It carries a brave form. But 'tis a spirit.

PROSPERO	No, wench; it eats and sleeps and hath such senses
	As we have, such. This gallant which thou seest
	Was in the wreck; and, but he's something stain'd
	With grief that's beauty's canker, thou mightst call him
	A goodly person: he hath lost his fellows
	And strays about to find 'em.

MIRANDA	I might call him
	A thing divine, for nothing natural
	I ever saw so noble.

PROSPERO	[Aside] It goes on, I see,
	As my soul prompts it. Spirit, fine spirit! I'll free thee
	Within two days for this.

FERDINAND	Most sure, the goddess
	On whom these airs attend! Vouchsafe my prayer
	May know if you remain upon this island;
	And that you will some good instruction give
	How I may bear me here: my prime request,
	Which I do last pronounce, is, O you wonder!
	If you be maid or no?

MIRANDA	No wonder, sir;
	But certainly a maid.

FERDINAND	My language! heavens!
	I am the best of them that speak this speech,
	Were I but where 'tis spoken.

PROSPERO	How? the best?
	What wert thou, if the King of Naples heard thee?

FERDINAND	A single thing, as I am now, that wonders
	To hear thee speak of Naples. He does hear me;
	And that he does I weep: myself am Naples,
	Who with mine eyes, never since at ebb, beheld
	The king my father wreck'd.

MIRANDA	Alack, for mercy!

FERDINAND	Yes, faith, and all his lords; the Duke of Milan
	And his brave son being twain.

PROSPERO	[Aside]	The Duke of Milan
	And his more braver daughter could control thee,
	If now 'twere fit to do't. At the first sight
	They have changed eyes. Delicate Ariel,
	I'll set thee free for this.

	[To FERDINAND]

		        A word, good sir;
	I fear you have done yourself some wrong: a word.

MIRANDA	Why speaks my father so ungently? This
	Is the third man that e'er I saw, the first
	That e'er I sigh'd for: pity move my father
	To be inclined my way!

FERDINAND	O, if a virgin,
	And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you
	The queen of Naples.

PROSPERO	Soft, sir! one word more.

	[Aside]

	They are both in either's powers; but this swift business
	I must uneasy make, lest too light winning
	Make the prize light.

	[To FERDINAND]

		One word more; I charge thee
	That thou attend me: thou dost here usurp
	The name thou owest not; and hast put thyself
	Upon this island as a spy, to win it
	From me, the lord on't.

FERDINAND	No, as I am a man.

MIRANDA	There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple:
	If the ill spirit have so fair a house,
	Good things will strive to dwell with't.

PROSPERO	Follow me.
	Speak not you for him; he's a traitor. Come;
	I'll manacle thy neck and feet together:
	Sea-water shalt thou drink; thy food shall be
	The fresh-brook muscles, wither'd roots and husks
	Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow.

FERDINAND	No;
	I will resist such entertainment till
	Mine enemy has more power.

	[Draws, and is charmed from moving]

MIRANDA	O dear father,
	Make not too rash a trial of him, for
	He's gentle and not fearful.

PROSPERO	What? I say,
	My foot my tutor? Put thy sword up, traitor;
	Who makest a show but darest not strike, thy conscience
	Is so possess'd with guilt: come from thy ward,
	For I can here disarm thee with this stick
	And make thy weapon drop.

MIRANDA	Beseech you, father.

PROSPERO	Hence! hang not on my garments.

MIRANDA	Sir, have pity;
	I'll be his surety.

PROSPERO	Silence! one word more
	Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What!
	An advocate for an imposter! hush!
	Thou think'st there is no more such shapes as he,
	Having seen but him and Caliban: foolish wench!
	To the most of men this is a Caliban
	And they to him are angels.

MIRANDA	My affections
	Are then most humble; I have no ambition
	To see a goodlier man.

PROSPERO	Come on; obey:
	Thy nerves are in their infancy again
	And have no vigour in them.

FERDINAND	So they are;
	My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up.
	My father's loss, the weakness which I feel,
	The wreck of all my friends, nor this man's threats,
	To whom I am subdued, are but light to me,
	Might I but through my prison once a day
	Behold this maid: all corners else o' the earth
	Let liberty make use of; space enough
	Have I in such a prison.

PROSPERO	[Aside]                It works.

	[To FERDINAND]

		                  Come on.
	Thou hast done well, fine Ariel!

	[To FERDINAND]

		                  Follow me.

	[To ARIEL]

	Hark what thou else shalt do me.

MIRANDA	Be of comfort;
	My father's of a better nature, sir,
	Than he appears by speech: this is unwonted
	Which now came from him.

PROSPERO	Thou shalt be free
	As mountain winds: but then exactly do
	All points of my command.

ARIEL	To the syllable.

PROSPERO	Come, follow. Speak not for him.

	[Exeunt]




	THE TEMPEST


ACT II



SCENE I	Another part of the island.


	[Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GONZALO,
	ADRIAN, FRANCISCO, and others]

GONZALO	Beseech you, sir, be merry; you have cause,
	So have we all, of joy; for our escape
	Is much beyond our loss. Our hint of woe
	Is common; every day some sailor's wife,
	The masters of some merchant and the merchant
	Have just our theme of woe; but for the miracle,
	I mean our preservation, few in millions
	Can speak like us: then wisely, good sir, weigh
	Our sorrow with our comfort.

ALONSO	Prithee, peace.

SEBASTIAN	He receives comfort like cold porridge.

ANTONIO	The visitor will not give him o'er so.

SEBASTIAN	Look he's winding up the watch of his wit;
	by and by it will strike.

GONZALO	Sir,--

SEBASTIAN	One: tell.

GONZALO	When every grief is entertain'd that's offer'd,
	Comes to the entertainer--

SEBASTIAN	A dollar.

GONZALO	Dolour comes to him, indeed: you
	have spoken truer than you purposed.

SEBASTIAN	You have taken it wiselier than I meant you should.

GONZALO	Therefore, my lord,--

ANTONIO	Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue!

ALONSO	I prithee, spare.

GONZALO	Well, I have done: but yet,--

SEBASTIAN	He will be talking.

ANTONIO	Which, of he or Adrian, for a good
	wager, first begins to crow?

SEBASTIAN	The old cock.

ANTONIO	The cockerel.

SEBASTIAN	Done. The wager?

ANTONIO	A laughter.

SEBASTIAN	A match!

ADRIAN	Though this island seem to be desert,--

SEBASTIAN	Ha, ha, ha! So, you're paid.

ADRIAN	Uninhabitable and almost inaccessible,--

SEBASTIAN	Yet,--

ADRIAN	Yet,--

ANTONIO	He could not miss't.

ADRIAN	It must needs be of subtle, tender and delicate
	temperance.

ANTONIO	Temperance was a delicate wench.

SEBASTIAN	Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly delivered.

ADRIAN	The air breathes upon us here most sweetly.

SEBASTIAN	As if it had lungs and rotten ones.

ANTONIO	Or as 'twere perfumed by a fen.

GONZALO	Here is everything advantageous to life.

ANTONIO	True; save means to live.

SEBASTIAN	Of that there's none, or little.

GONZALO	How lush and lusty the grass looks! how green!

ANTONIO	The ground indeed is tawny.

SEBASTIAN	With an eye of green in't.

ANTONIO	He misses not much.

SEBASTIAN	No; he doth but mistake the truth totally.

GONZALO	But the rarity of it is,--which is indeed almost
	beyond credit,--

SEBASTIAN	As many vouched rarities are.

GONZALO	That our garments, being, as they were, drenched in
	the sea, hold notwithstanding their freshness and
	glosses, being rather new-dyed than stained with
	salt water.

ANTONIO	If but one of his pockets could speak, would it not
	say he lies?

SEBASTIAN	Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report

GONZALO	Methinks our garments are now as fresh as when we
	put them on first in Afric, at the marriage of
	the king's fair daughter Claribel to the King of Tunis.

SEBASTIAN	'Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our return.

ADRIAN	Tunis was never graced before with such a paragon to
	their queen.

GONZALO	Not since widow Dido's time.

ANTONIO	Widow! a pox o' that! How came that widow in?
	widow Dido!

SEBASTIAN	What if he had said 'widower AEneas' too? Good Lord,
	how you take it!

ADRIAN	'Widow Dido' said you? you make me study of that:
	she was of Carthage, not of Tunis.

GONZALO	This Tunis, sir, was Carthage.

ADRIAN	Carthage?

GONZALO	I assure you, Carthage.

SEBASTIAN	His word is more than the miraculous harp; he hath
	raised the wall and houses too.

ANTONIO	What impossible matter will he make easy next?

SEBASTIAN	I think he will carry this island home in his pocket
	and give it his son for an apple.

ANTONIO	And, sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring
	forth more islands.

GONZALO	Ay.

ANTONIO	Why, in good time.

GONZALO	Sir, we were talking that our garments seem now
	as fresh as when we were at Tunis at the marriage
	of your daughter, who is now queen.

ANTONIO	And the rarest that e'er came there.

SEBASTIAN	Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido.

ANTONIO	O, widow Dido! ay, widow Dido.

GONZALO	Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day I
	wore it? I mean, in a sort.

ANTONIO	That sort was well fished for.

GONZALO	When I wore it at your daughter's marriage?

ALONSO	You cram these words into mine ears against
	The stomach of my sense. Would I had never
	Married my daughter there! for, coming thence,
	My son is lost and, in my rate, she too,
	Who is so far from Italy removed
	I ne'er again shall see her. O thou mine heir
	Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish
	Hath made his meal on thee?

FRANCISCO	Sir, he may live:
	I saw him beat the surges under him,
	And ride upon their backs; he trod the water,
	Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted
	The surge most swoln that met him; his bold head
	'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar'd
	Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke
	To the shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bow'd,
	As stooping to relieve him: I not doubt
	He came alive to land.

ALONSO	No, no, he's gone.

SEBASTIAN	Sir, you may thank yourself for this great loss,
	That would not bless our Europe with your daughter,
	But rather lose her to an African;
	Where she at least is banish'd from your eye,
	Who hath cause to wet the grief on't.

ALONSO	Prithee, peace.

SEBASTIAN	You were kneel'd to and importuned otherwise
	By all of us, and the fair soul herself
	Weigh'd between loathness and obedience, at
	Which end o' the beam should bow. We have lost your
	son,
	I fear, for ever: Milan and Naples have
	More widows in them of this business' making
	Than we bring men to comfort them:
	The fault's your own.

ALONSO	So is the dear'st o' the loss.

GONZALO	My lord Sebastian,
	The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness
	And time to speak it in: you rub the sore,
	When you should bring the plaster.

SEBASTIAN	Very well.

ANTONIO	And most chirurgeonly.

GONZALO	It is foul weather in us all, good sir,
	When you are cloudy.

SEBASTIAN	Foul weather?

ANTONIO	Very foul.

GONZALO	Had I plantation of this isle, my lord,--

ANTONIO	He'ld sow't with nettle-seed.

SEBASTIAN	Or docks, or mallows.

GONZALO	And were the king on't, what would I do?

SEBASTIAN	'Scape being drunk for want of wine.

GONZALO	I' the commonwealth I would by contraries
	Execute all things; for no kind of traffic
	Would I admit; no name of magistrate;
	Letters should not be known; riches, poverty,
	And use of service, none; contract, succession,
	Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none;
	No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil;
	No occupation; all men idle, all;
	And women too, but innocent and pure;
	No sovereignty;--

SEBASTIAN	                  Yet he would be king on't.

ANTONIO	The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the
	beginning.

GONZALO	All things in common nature should produce
	Without sweat or endeavour: treason, felony,
	Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine,
	Would I not have; but nature should bring forth,
	Of its own kind, all foison, all abundance,
	To feed my innocent people.

SEBASTIAN	No marrying 'mong his subjects?

ANTONIO	None, man; all idle: whores and knaves.

GONZALO	I would with such perfection govern, sir,
	To excel the golden age.

SEBASTIAN	God save his majesty!

ANTONIO	Long live Gonzalo!

GONZALO	                  And,--do you mark me, sir?

ALONSO	Prithee, no more: thou dost talk nothing to me.

GONZALO	I do well believe your highness; and
	did it to minister occasion to these gentlemen,
	who are of such sensible and nimble lungs that
	they always use to laugh at nothing.

ANTONIO	'Twas you we laughed at.

GONZALO	Who in this kind of merry fooling am nothing
	to you: so you may continue and laugh at
	nothing still.

ANTONIO	What a blow was there given!

SEBASTIAN	An it had not fallen flat-long.

GONZALO	You are gentlemen of brave metal; you would lift
	the moon out of her sphere, if she would continue
	in it five weeks without changing.

	[Enter ARIEL, invisible, playing solemn music]

SEBASTIAN	We would so, and then go a bat-fowling.

ANTONIO	Nay, good my lord, be not angry.

GONZALO	No, I warrant you; I will not adventure
	my discretion so weakly. Will you laugh
	me asleep, for I am very heavy?

ANTONIO	Go sleep, and hear us.

	[All sleep except ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, and ANTONIO]

ALONSO	What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes
	Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: I find
	They are inclined to do so.

SEBASTIAN	Please you, sir,
	Do not omit the heavy offer of it:
	It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth,
	It is a comforter.

ANTONIO	                  We two, my lord,
	Will guard your person while you take your rest,
	And watch your safety.

ALONSO	Thank you. Wondrous heavy.

	[ALONSO sleeps. Exit ARIEL]

SEBASTIAN	What a strange drowsiness possesses them!

ANTONIO	It is the quality o' the climate.

SEBASTIAN	Why
	Doth it not then our eyelids sink? I find not
	Myself disposed to sleep.

ANTONIO	Nor I; my spirits are nimble.
	They fell together all, as by consent;
	They dropp'd, as by a thunder-stroke. What might,
	Worthy Sebastian? O, what might?--No more:--
	And yet me thinks I see it in thy face,
	What thou shouldst be: the occasion speaks thee, and
	My strong imagination sees a crown
	Dropping upon thy head.

SEBASTIAN	What, art thou waking?

ANTONIO	Do you not hear me speak?

SEBASTIAN	I do; and surely
	It is a sleepy language and thou speak'st
	Out of thy sleep. What is it thou didst say?
	This is a strange repose, to be asleep
	With eyes wide open; standing, speaking, moving,
	And yet so fast asleep.

ANTONIO	Noble Sebastian,
	Thou let'st thy fortune sleep--die, rather; wink'st
	Whiles thou art waking.

SEBASTIAN	Thou dost snore distinctly;
	There's meaning in thy snores.

ANTONIO	I am more serious than my custom: you
	Must be so too, if heed me; which to do
	Trebles thee o'er.

SEBASTIAN	                  Well, I am standing water.

ANTONIO	I'll teach you how to flow.

SEBASTIAN	Do so: to ebb
	Hereditary sloth instructs me.

ANTONIO	O,
	If you but knew how you the purpose cherish
	Whiles thus you mock it! how, in stripping it,
	You more invest it! Ebbing men, indeed,
	Most often do so near the bottom run
	By their own fear or sloth.

SEBASTIAN	Prithee, say on:
	The setting of thine eye and cheek proclaim
	A matter from thee, and a birth indeed
	Which throes thee much to yield.

ANTONIO	Thus, sir:
	Although this lord of weak remembrance, this,
	Who shall be of as little memory
	When he is earth'd, hath here almost persuade,--
	For he's a spirit of persuasion, only
	Professes to persuade,--the king his son's alive,
	'Tis as impossible that he's undrown'd
	And he that sleeps here swims.

SEBASTIAN	I have no hope
	That he's undrown'd.

ANTONIO	O, out of that 'no hope'
	What great hope have you! no hope that way is
	Another way so high a hope that even
	Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond,
	But doubt discovery there. Will you grant with me
	That Ferdinand is drown'd?

SEBASTIAN	He's gone.

ANTONIO	Then, tell me,
	Who's the next heir of Naples?

SEBASTIAN	Claribel.

ANTONIO	She that is queen of Tunis; she that dwells
	Ten leagues beyond man's life; she that from Naples
	Can have no note, unless the sun were post--
	The man i' the moon's too slow--till new-born chins
	Be rough and razorable; she that--from whom?
	We all were sea-swallow'd, though some cast again,
	And by that destiny to perform an act
	Whereof what's past is prologue, what to come
	In yours and my discharge.

SEBASTIAN	What stuff is this! how say you?
	'Tis true, my brother's daughter's queen of Tunis;
	So is she heir of Naples; 'twixt which regions
	There is some space.

ANTONIO	A space whose every cubit
	Seems to cry out, 'How shall that Claribel
	Measure us back to Naples? Keep in Tunis,
	And let Sebastian wake.' Say, this were death
	That now hath seized them; why, they were no worse
	Than now they are. There be that can rule Naples
	As well as he that sleeps; lords that can prate
	As amply and unnecessarily
	As this Gonzalo; I myself could make
	A chough of as deep chat. O, that you bore
	The mind that I do! what a sleep were this
	For your advancement! Do you understand me?

SEBASTIAN	Methinks I do.

ANTONIO	                  And how does your content
	Tender your own good fortune?

SEBASTIAN	I remember
	You did supplant your brother Prospero.

ANTONIO	True:
	And look how well my garments sit upon me;
	Much feater than before: my brother's servants
	Were then my fellows; now they are my men.

SEBASTIAN	But, for your conscience?

ANTONIO	Ay, sir; where lies that? if 'twere a kibe,
	'Twould put me to my slipper: but I feel not
	This deity in my bosom: twenty consciences,
	That stand 'twixt me and Milan, candied be they
	And melt ere they molest! Here lies your brother,
	No better than the earth he lies upon,
	If he were that which now he's like, that's dead;
	Whom I, with this obedient steel, three inches of it,
	Can lay to bed for ever; whiles you, doing thus,
	To the perpetual wink for aye might put
	This ancient morsel, this Sir Prudence, who
	Should not upbraid our course. For all the rest,
	They'll take suggestion as a cat laps milk;
	They'll tell the clock to any business that
	We say befits the hour.

SEBASTIAN	Thy case, dear friend,
	Shall be my precedent; as thou got'st Milan,
	I'll come by Naples. Draw thy sword: one stroke
	Shall free thee from the tribute which thou payest;
	And I the king shall love thee.

ANTONIO	Draw together;
	And when I rear my hand, do you the like,
	To fall it on Gonzalo.

SEBASTIAN	O, but one word.

	[They talk apart]

	[Re-enter ARIEL, invisible]

ARIEL	My master through his art foresees the danger
	That you, his friend, are in; and sends me forth--
	For else his project dies--to keep them living.

	[Sings in GONZALO's ear]

	While you here do snoring lie,
	Open-eyed conspiracy
	His time doth take.
	If of life you keep a care,
	Shake off slumber, and beware:
	Awake, awake!

ANTONIO	Then let us both be sudden.

GONZALO	Now, good angels
	Preserve the king.

	[They wake]

ALONSO	Why, how now? ho, awake! Why are you drawn?
	Wherefore this ghastly looking?

GONZALO	What's the matter?

SEBASTIAN	Whiles we stood here securing your repose,
	Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowing
	Like bulls, or rather lions: did't not wake you?
	It struck mine ear most terribly.

ALONSO	I heard nothing.

ANTONIO	O, 'twas a din to fright a monster's ear,
	To make an earthquake! sure, it was the roar
	Of a whole herd of lions.

ALONSO	Heard you this, Gonzalo?

GONZALO	Upon mine honour, sir, I heard a humming,
	And that a strange one too, which did awake me:
	I shaked you, sir, and cried: as mine eyes open'd,
	I saw their weapons drawn: there was a noise,
	That's verily. 'Tis best we stand upon our guard,
	Or that we quit this place; let's draw our weapons.

ALONSO	Lead off this ground; and let's make further search
	For my poor son.

GONZALO	Heavens keep him from these beasts!
	For he is, sure, i' the island.

ALONSO	Lead away.

ARIEL	Prospero my lord shall know what I have done:
	So, king, go safely on to seek thy son.

	[Exeunt]




	THE TEMPEST


ACT II



SCENE II	Another part of the island.


	[Enter CALIBAN with a burden of wood. A noise of
	thunder heard]

CALIBAN	All the infections that the sun sucks up
	From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall and make him
	By inch-meal a disease! His spirits hear me
	And yet I needs must curse. But they'll nor pinch,
	Fright me with urchin--shows, pitch me i' the mire,
	Nor lead me, like a firebrand, in the dark
	Out of my way, unless he bid 'em; but
	For every trifle are they set upon me;
	Sometime like apes that mow and chatter at me
	And after bite me, then like hedgehogs which
	Lie tumbling in my barefoot way and mount
	Their pricks at my footfall; sometime am I
	All wound with adders who with cloven tongues
	Do hiss me into madness.

	[Enter TRINCULO]

		    Lo, now, lo!

	Here comes a spirit of his, and to torment me
	For bringing wood in slowly. I'll fall flat;
	Perchance he will not mind me.

TRINCULO	Here's neither bush nor shrub, to bear off
	any weather at all, and another storm brewing;
	I hear it sing i' the wind: yond same black
	cloud, yond huge one, looks like a foul
	bombard that would shed his liquor. If it
	should thunder as it did before, I know not
	where to hide my head: yond same cloud cannot
	choose but fall by pailfuls. What have we
	here? a man or a fish? dead or alive? A fish:
	he smells like a fish; a very ancient and fish-
	like smell; a kind of not of the newest Poor-
	John. A strange fish! Were I in England now,
	as once I was, and had but this fish painted,
	not a holiday fool there but would give a piece
	of silver: there would this monster make a
	man; any strange beast there makes a man:
	when they will not give a doit to relieve a lame
	beggar, they will lazy out ten to see a dead
	Indian. Legged like a man and his fins like
	arms! Warm o' my troth! I do now let loose
	my opinion; hold it no longer: this is no fish,
	but an islander, that hath lately suffered by a
	thunderbolt.

	[Thunder]

	Alas, the storm is come again! my best way is to
	creep under his gaberdine; there is no other
	shelter hereabouts: misery acquaints a man with
	strange bed-fellows. I will here shroud till the
	dregs of the storm be past.

	[Enter STEPHANO, singing: a bottle in his hand]

STEPHANO	   I shall no more to sea, to sea,
	Here shall I die ashore--

	This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man's
	funeral: well, here's my comfort. [Drinks]

	[Sings]

	The master, the swabber, the boatswain and I,
	The gunner and his mate
	Loved Mall, Meg and Marian and Margery,
	But none of us cared for Kate;
	For she had a tongue with a tang,
	Would cry to a sailor, Go hang!
	She loved not the savour of tar nor of pitch,
	Yet a tailor might scratch her where'er she did itch:
	Then to sea, boys, and let her go hang!

	This is a scurvy tune too: but here's my comfort.
	[Drinks]

CALIBAN	Do not torment me: Oh!

STEPHANO	What's the matter? Have we devils here? Do you put
	tricks upon's with savages and men of Ind, ha? I
	have not scaped drowning to be afeard now of your
	four legs; for it hath been said, As proper a man as
	ever went on four legs cannot make him give ground;
	and it shall be said so again while Stephano
	breathes at's nostrils.

CALIBAN	The spirit torments me; Oh!

STEPHANO	This is some monster of the isle with four legs, who
	hath got, as I take it, an ague. Where the devil
	should he learn our language? I will give him some
	relief, if it be but for that. if I can recover him
	and keep him tame and get to Naples with him, he's a
	present for any emperor that ever trod on neat's leather.

CALIBAN	Do not torment me, prithee; I'll bring my wood home faster.

STEPHANO	He's in his fit now and does not talk after the
	wisest. He shall taste of my bottle: if he have
	never drunk wine afore will go near to remove his
	fit. If I can recover him and keep him tame, I will
	not take too much for him; he shall pay for him that
	hath him, and that soundly.

CALIBAN	Thou dost me yet but little hurt; thou wilt anon, I
	know it by thy trembling: now Prosper works upon thee.

STEPHANO	Come on your ways; open your mouth; here is that
	which will give language to you, cat: open your
	mouth; this will shake your shaking, I can tell you,
	and that soundly: you cannot tell who's your friend:
	open your chaps again.

TRINCULO	I should know that voice: it should be--but he is
	drowned; and these are devils: O defend me!

STEPHANO	Four legs and two voices: a most delicate monster!
	His forward voice now is to speak well of his
	friend; his backward voice is to utter foul speeches
	and to detract. If all the wine in my bottle will
	recover him, I will help his ague. Come. Amen! I
	will pour some in thy other mouth.

TRINCULO	Stephano!

STEPHANO	Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy, mercy! This is
	a devil, and no monster: I will leave him; I have no
	long spoon.

TRINCULO	Stephano! If thou beest Stephano, touch me and
	speak to me: for I am Trinculo--be not afeard--thy
	good friend Trinculo.

STEPHANO	If thou beest Trinculo, come forth: I'll pull thee
	by the lesser legs: if any be Trinculo's legs,
	these are they. Thou art very Trinculo indeed! How
	camest thou to be the siege of this moon-calf? can
	he vent Trinculos?

TRINCULO	I took him to be killed with a thunder-stroke. But
	art thou not drowned, Stephano? I hope now thou art
	not drowned. Is the storm overblown? I hid me
	under the dead moon-calf's gaberdine for fear of
	the storm. And art thou living, Stephano? O
	Stephano, two Neapolitans 'scaped!

STEPHANO	Prithee, do not turn me about; my stomach is not constant.

CALIBAN	[Aside]  These be fine things, an if they be
	not sprites.
	That's a brave god and bears celestial liquor.
	I will kneel to him.

STEPHANO	How didst thou 'scape? How camest thou hither?
	swear by this bottle how thou camest hither. I
	escaped upon a butt of sack which the sailors
	heaved o'erboard, by this bottle; which I made of
	the bark of a tree with mine own hands since I was
	cast ashore.

CALIBAN	I'll swear upon that bottle to be thy true subject;
	for the liquor is not earthly.

STEPHANO	Here; swear then how thou escapedst.

TRINCULO	Swum ashore. man, like a duck: I can swim like a
	duck, I'll be sworn.

STEPHANO	Here, kiss the book. Though thou canst swim like a
	duck, thou art made like a goose.

TRINCULO	O Stephano. hast any more of this?

STEPHANO	The whole butt, man: my cellar is in a rock by the
	sea-side where my wine is hid. How now, moon-calf!
	how does thine ague?

CALIBAN	Hast thou not dropp'd from heaven?

STEPHANO	Out o' the moon, I do assure thee: I was the man i'
	the moon when time was.

CALIBAN	I have seen thee in her and I do adore thee:
	My mistress show'd me thee and thy dog and thy bush.

STEPHANO	Come, swear to that; kiss the book: I will furnish
	it anon with new contents swear.

TRINCULO	By this good light, this is a very shallow monster!
	I afeard of him! A very weak monster! The man i'
	the moon! A most poor credulous monster! Well
	drawn, monster, in good sooth!

CALIBAN	I'll show thee every fertile inch o' th' island;
	And I will kiss thy foot: I prithee, be my god.

TRINCULO	By this light, a most perfidious and drunken
	monster! when 's god's asleep, he'll rob his bottle.

CALIBAN	I'll kiss thy foot; I'll swear myself thy subject.

STEPHANO	Come on then; down, and swear.

TRINCULO	I shall laugh myself to death at this puppy-headed
	monster. A most scurvy monster! I could find in my
	heart to beat him,--

STEPHANO	Come, kiss.

TRINCULO	But that the poor monster's in drink: an abominable monster!

CALIBAN	I'll show thee the best springs; I'll pluck thee berries;
	I'll fish for thee and get thee wood enough.
	A plague upon the tyrant that I serve!
	I'll bear him no more sticks, but follow thee,
	Thou wondrous man.

TRINCULO	A most ridiculous monster, to make a wonder of a
	Poor drunkard!

CALIBAN	I prithee, let me bring thee where crabs grow;
	And I with my long nails will dig thee pignuts;
	Show thee a jay's nest and instruct thee how
	To snare the nimble marmoset; I'll bring thee
	To clustering filberts and sometimes I'll get thee
	Young scamels from the rock. Wilt thou go with me?

STEPHANO	I prithee now, lead the way without any more
	talking. Trinculo, the king and all our company
	else being drowned, we will inherit here: here;
	bear my bottle: fellow Trinculo, we'll fill him by
	and by again.

CALIBAN	[Sings drunkenly]
	Farewell master; farewell, farewell!

TRINCULO	A howling monster: a drunken monster!

CALIBAN	   No more dams I'll make for fish
	Nor fetch in firing
	At requiring;
	Nor scrape trencher, nor wash dish
	'Ban, 'Ban, Cacaliban
	Has a new master: get a new man.

	Freedom, hey-day! hey-day, freedom! freedom,
	hey-day, freedom!

STEPHANO	O brave monster! Lead the way.

	[Exeunt]




	THE TEMPEST


ACT III



SCENE I	Before PROSPERO'S Cell.


	[Enter FERDINAND, bearing a log]

FERDINAND	There be some sports are painful, and their labour
	Delight in them sets off: some kinds of baseness
	Are nobly undergone and most poor matters
	Point to rich ends. This my mean task
	Would be as heavy to me as odious, but
	The mistress which I serve quickens what's dead
	And makes my labours pleasures: O, she is
	Ten times more gentle than her father's crabbed,
	And he's composed of harshness. I must remove
	Some thousands of these logs and pile them up,
	Upon a sore injunction: my sweet mistress
	Weeps when she sees me work, and says, such baseness
	Had never like executor. I forget:
	But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my labours,
	Most busy lest, when I do it.

	[Enter MIRANDA; and PROSPERO at a distance, unseen]

MIRANDA	Alas, now, pray you,
	Work not so hard: I would the lightning had
	Burnt up those logs that you are enjoin'd to pile!
	Pray, set it down and rest you: when this burns,
	'Twill weep for having wearied you. My father
	Is hard at study; pray now, rest yourself;
	He's safe for these three hours.

FERDINAND	O most dear mistress,
	The sun will set before I shall discharge
	What I must strive to do.

MIRANDA	If you'll sit down,
	I'll bear your logs the while: pray, give me that;
	I'll carry it to the pile.

FERDINAND	No, precious creature;
	I had rather crack my sinews, break my back,
	Than you should such dishonour undergo,
	While I sit lazy by.

MIRANDA	It would become me
	As well as it does you: and I should do it
	With much more ease; for my good will is to it,
	And yours it is against.

PROSPERO	Poor worm, thou art infected!
	This visitation shows it.

MIRANDA	You look wearily.

FERDINAND	No, noble mistress;'tis fresh morning with me
	When you are by at night. I do beseech you--
	Chiefly that I might set it in my prayers--
	What is your name?

MIRANDA	                  Miranda.--O my father,
	I have broke your hest to say so!

FERDINAND	Admired Miranda!
	Indeed the top of admiration! worth
	What's dearest to the world! Full many a lady
	I have eyed with best regard and many a time
	The harmony of their tongues hath into bondage
	Brought my too diligent ear: for several virtues
	Have I liked several women; never any
	With so fun soul, but some defect in her
	Did quarrel with the noblest grace she owed
	And put it to the foil: but you, O you,
	So perfect and so peerless, are created
	Of every creature's best!

MIRANDA	I do not know
	One of my sex; no woman's face remember,
	Save, from my glass, mine own; nor have I seen
	More that I may call men than you, good friend,
	And my dear father: how features are abroad,
	I am skilless of; but, by my modesty,
	The jewel in my dower, I would not wish
	Any companion in the world but you,
	Nor can imagination form a shape,
	Besides yourself, to like of. But I prattle
	Something too wildly and my father's precepts
	I therein do forget.

FERDINAND	I am in my condition
	A prince, Miranda; I do think, a king;
	I would, not so!--and would no more endure
	This wooden slavery than to suffer
	The flesh-fly blow my mouth. Hear my soul speak:
	The very instant that I saw you, did
	My heart fly to your service; there resides,
	To make me slave to it; and for your sake
	Am I this patient log--man.

MIRANDA	Do you love me?

FERDINAND	O heaven, O earth, bear witness to this sound
	And crown what I profess with kind event
	If I speak true! if hollowly, invert
	What best is boded me to mischief! I
	Beyond all limit of what else i' the world
	Do love, prize, honour you.

MIRANDA	I am a fool
	To weep at what I am glad of.

PROSPERO	Fair encounter
	Of two most rare affections! Heavens rain grace
	On that which breeds between 'em!

FERDINAND	Wherefore weep you?

MIRANDA	At mine unworthiness that dare not offer
	What I desire to give, and much less take
	What I shall die to want. But this is trifling;
	And all the more it seeks to hide itself,
	The bigger bulk it shows. Hence, bashful cunning!
	And prompt me, plain and holy innocence!
	I am your wife, it you will marry me;
	If not, I'll die your maid: to be your fellow
	You may deny me; but I'll be your servant,
	Whether you will or no.

FERDINAND	My mistress, dearest;
	And I thus humble ever.

MIRANDA	My husband, then?

FERDINAND	Ay, with a heart as willing
	As bondage e'er of freedom: here's my hand.

MIRANDA	And mine, with my heart in't; and now farewell
	Till half an hour hence.

FERDINAND	A thousand thousand!

	[Exeunt FERDINAND and MIRANDA severally]

PROSPERO	So glad of this as they I cannot be,
	Who are surprised withal; but my rejoicing
	At nothing can be more. I'll to my book,
	For yet ere supper-time must I perform
	Much business appertaining.

	[Exit]




	THE TEMPEST


ACT III



SCENE II	Another part of the island.


	[Enter CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO]

STEPHANO	Tell not me; when the butt is out, we will drink
	water; not a drop before: therefore bear up, and
	board 'em. Servant-monster, drink to me.

TRINCULO	Servant-monster! the folly of this island! They
	say there's but five upon this isle: we are three
	of them; if th' other two be brained like us, the
	state totters.

STEPHANO	Drink, servant-monster, when I bid thee: thy eyes
	are almost set in thy head.

TRINCULO	Where should they be set else? he were a brave
	monster indeed, if they were set in his tail.

STEPHANO	My man-monster hath drown'd his tongue in sack:
	for my part, the sea cannot drown me; I swam, ere I
	could recover the shore, five and thirty leagues off
	and on. By this light, thou shalt be my lieutenant,
	monster, or my standard.

TRINCULO	Your lieutenant, if you list; he's no standard.

STEPHANO	We'll not run, Monsieur Monster.

TRINCULO	Nor go neither; but you'll lie like dogs and yet say
	nothing neither.

STEPHANO	Moon-calf, speak once in thy life, if thou beest a
	good moon-calf.

CALIBAN	How does thy honour? Let me lick thy shoe.
	I'll not serve him; he's not valiant.

TRINCULO	Thou liest, most ignorant monster: I am in case to
	justle a constable. Why, thou deboshed fish thou,
	was there ever man a coward that hath drunk so much
	sack as I to-day? Wilt thou tell a monstrous lie,
	being but half a fish and half a monster?

CALIBAN	Lo, how he mocks me! wilt thou let him, my lord?

TRINCULO	'Lord' quoth he! That a monster should be such a natural!

CALIBAN	Lo, lo, again! bite him to death, I prithee.

STEPHANO	Trinculo, keep a good tongue in your head: if you
	prove a mutineer,--the next tree! The poor monster's
	my subject and he shall not suffer indignity.

CALIBAN	I thank my noble lord. Wilt thou be pleased to
	hearken once again to the suit I made to thee?

STEPHANO	Marry, will I	kneel and repeat it; I will stand,
	and so shall Trinculo.

	[Enter ARIEL, invisible]

CALIBAN	As I told thee before, I am subject to a tyrant, a
	sorcerer, that by his cunning hath cheated me of the island.

ARIEL	Thou liest.

CALIBAN	Thou liest, thou jesting monkey, thou: I would my
	valiant master would destroy thee! I do not lie.

STEPHANO	Trinculo, if you trouble him any more in's tale, by
	this hand, I will supplant some of your teeth.

TRINCULO	Why, I said nothing.

STEPHANO	Mum, then, and no more. Proceed.

CALIBAN	I say, by sorcery he got this isle;
	From me he got it. if thy greatness will
	Revenge it on him,--for I know thou darest,
	But this thing dare not,--

STEPHANO	That's most certain.

CALIBAN	Thou shalt be lord of it and I'll serve thee.

STEPHANO	How now shall this be compassed?
	Canst thou bring me to the party?

CALIBAN	Yea, yea, my lord: I'll yield him thee asleep,
	Where thou mayst knock a nail into his bead.

ARIEL	Thou liest; thou canst not.

CALIBAN	What a pied ninny's this! Thou scurvy patch!
	I do beseech thy greatness, give him blows
	And take his bottle from him: when that's gone
	He shall drink nought but brine; for I'll not show him
	Where the quick freshes are.

STEPHANO	Trinculo, run into no further danger:
	interrupt the monster one word further, and,
	by this hand, I'll turn my mercy out o' doors
	and make a stock-fish of thee.

TRINCULO	Why, what did I? I did nothing. I'll go farther
	off.

STEPHANO	Didst thou not say he lied?

ARIEL	Thou liest.

STEPHANO	Do I so? take thou that.

	[Beats TRINCULO]

	As you like this, give me the lie another time.

TRINCULO	I did not give the lie. Out o' your
	wits and bearing too? A pox o' your bottle!
	this can sack and drinking do. A murrain on
	your monster, and the devil take your fingers!

CALIBAN	Ha, ha, ha!

STEPHANO	Now, forward with your tale. Prithee, stand farther
	off.

CALIBAN	Beat him enough: after a little time
	I'll beat him too.

STEPHANO	                  Stand farther. Come, proceed.

CALIBAN	Why, as I told thee, 'tis a custom with him,
	I' th' afternoon to sleep: there thou mayst brain him,
	Having first seized his books, or with a log
	Batter his skull, or paunch him with a stake,
	Or cut his wezand with thy knife. Remember
	First to possess his books; for without them
	He's but a sot, as I am, nor hath not
	One spirit to command: they all do hate him
	As rootedly as I. Burn but his books.
	He has brave utensils,--for so he calls them--
	Which when he has a house, he'll deck withal
	And that most deeply to consider is
	The beauty of his daughter; he himself
	Calls her a nonpareil: I never saw a woman,
	But only Sycorax my dam and she;
	But she as far surpasseth Sycorax
	As great'st does least.

STEPHANO	Is it so brave a lass?

CALIBAN	Ay, lord; she will become thy bed, I warrant.
	And bring thee forth brave brood.

STEPHANO	Monster, I will kill this man: his daughter and I
	will be king and queen--save our graces!--and
	Trinculo and thyself shall be viceroys. Dost thou
	like the plot, Trinculo?

TRINCULO	Excellent.

STEPHANO	Give me thy hand: I am sorry I beat thee; but,
	while thou livest, keep a good tongue in thy head.

CALIBAN	Within this half hour will he be asleep:
	Wilt thou destroy him then?

STEPHANO	Ay, on mine honour.

ARIEL	This will I tell my master.

CALIBAN	Thou makest me merry; I am full of pleasure:
	Let us be jocund: will you troll the catch
	You taught me but while-ere?

STEPHANO	At thy request, monster, I will do reason, any
	reason. Come on, Trinculo, let us sing.

	[Sings]

	Flout 'em and scout 'em
	And scout 'em and flout 'em
	Thought is free.

CALIBAN	That's not the tune.

	[Ariel plays the tune on a tabour and pipe]

STEPHANO	What is this same?

TRINCULO	This is the tune of our catch, played by the picture
	of Nobody.

STEPHANO	If thou beest a man, show thyself in thy likeness:
	if thou beest a devil, take't as thou list.

TRINCULO	O, forgive me my sins!

STEPHANO	He that dies pays all debts: I defy thee. Mercy upon us!

CALIBAN	Art thou afeard?

STEPHANO	No, monster, not I.

CALIBAN	Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises,
	Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not.
	Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
	Will hum about mine ears, and sometime voices
	That, if I then had waked after long sleep,
	Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming,
	The clouds methought would open and show riches
	Ready to drop upon me that, when I waked,
	I cried to dream again.

STEPHANO	This will prove a brave kingdom to me, where I shall
	have my music for nothing.

CALIBAN	When Prospero is destroyed.

STEPHANO	That shall be by and by: I remember the story.

TRINCULO	The sound is going away; let's follow it, and
	after do our work.

STEPHANO	Lead, monster; we'll follow. I would I could see
	this tabourer; he lays it on.

TRINCULO	Wilt come? I'll follow, Stephano.

	[Exeunt]




	THE TEMPEST


ACT III



SCENE III	Another part of the island.


	[Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GONZALO,
	ADRIAN, FRANCISCO, and others]

GONZALO	By'r lakin, I can go no further, sir;
	My old bones ache: here's a maze trod indeed
	Through forth-rights and meanders! By your patience,
	I needs must rest me.

ALONSO	Old lord, I cannot blame thee,
	Who am myself attach'd with weariness,
	To the dulling of my spirits: sit down, and rest.
	Even here I will put off my hope and keep it
	No longer for my flatterer: he is drown'd
	Whom thus we stray to find, and the sea mocks
	Our frustrate search on land. Well, let him go.

ANTONIO	[Aside to SEBASTIAN]  I am right glad that he's so
	out of hope.
	Do not, for one repulse, forego the purpose
	That you resolved to effect.

SEBASTIAN	[Aside to ANTONIO]  The next advantage
	Will we take throughly.

ANTONIO	[Aside to SEBASTIAN]  Let it be to-night;
	For, now they are oppress'd with travel, they
	Will not, nor cannot, use such vigilance
	As when they are fresh.

SEBASTIAN	[Aside to ANTONIO]  I say, to-night: no more.

	[Solemn and strange music]

ALONSO	What harmony is this? My good friends, hark!

GONZALO	Marvellous sweet music!

	[Enter PROSPERO above, invisible. Enter several
	strange Shapes, bringing in a banquet;
	they dance about it with gentle actions of
	salutation; and, inviting the King, &c. to
	eat, they depart]

ALONSO	Give us kind keepers, heavens! What were these?

SEBASTIAN	A living drollery. Now I will believe
	That there are unicorns, that in Arabia
	There is one tree, the phoenix' throne, one phoenix
	At this hour reigning there.

ANTONIO	I'll believe both;
	And what does else want credit, come to me,
	And I'll be sworn 'tis true: travellers ne'er did
	lie,
	Though fools at home condemn 'em.

GONZALO	If in Naples
	I should report this now, would they believe me?
	If I should say, I saw such islanders--
	For, certes, these are people of the island--
	Who, though they are of monstrous shape, yet, note,
	Their manners are more gentle-kind than of
	Our human generation you shall find
	Many, nay, almost any.

PROSPERO	[Aside]              Honest lord,
	Thou hast said well; for some of you there present
	Are worse than devils.

ALONSO	I cannot too much muse
	Such shapes, such gesture and such sound, expressing,
	Although they want the use of tongue, a kind
	Of excellent dumb discourse.

PROSPERO	[Aside]	Praise in departing.

FRANCISCO	They vanish'd strangely.

SEBASTIAN	No matter, since
	They have left their viands behind; for we have stomachs.
	Will't please you taste of what is here?

ALONSO	Not I.

GONZALO	Faith, sir, you need not fear. When we were boys,
	Who would believe that there were mountaineers
	Dew-lapp'd like bulls, whose throats had hanging at 'em
	Wallets of flesh? or that there were such men
	Whose heads stood in their breasts? which now we find
	Each putter-out of five for one will bring us
	Good warrant of.

ALONSO	                  I will stand to and feed,
	Although my last: no matter, since I feel
	The best is past. Brother, my lord the duke,
	Stand to and do as we.

	[Thunder and lightning. Enter ARIEL, like a
	harpy; claps his wings upon the table; and,
	with a quaint device, the banquet vanishes]

ARIEL	You are three men of sin, whom Destiny,
	That hath to instrument this lower world
	And what is in't, the never-surfeited sea
	Hath caused to belch up you; and on this island
	Where man doth not inhabit; you 'mongst men
	Being most unfit to live. I have made you mad;
	And even with such-like valour men hang and drown
	Their proper selves.

	[ALONSO, SEBASTIAN &c. draw their swords]

		You fools! I and my fellows
	Are ministers of Fate: the elements,
	Of whom your swords are temper'd, may as well
	Wound the loud winds, or with bemock'd-at stabs
	Kill the still-closing waters, as diminish
	One dowle that's in my plume: my fellow-ministers
	Are like invulnerable. If you could hurt,
	Your swords are now too massy for your strengths
	And will not be uplifted. But remember--
	For that's my business to you--that you three
	From Milan did supplant good Prospero;
	Exposed unto the sea, which hath requit it,
	Him and his innocent child: for which foul deed
	The powers, delaying, not forgetting, have
	Incensed the seas and shores, yea, all the creatures,
	Against your peace. Thee of thy son, Alonso,
	They have bereft; and do pronounce by me:
	Lingering perdition, worse than any death
	Can be at once, shall step by step attend
	You and your ways; whose wraths to guard you from--
	Which here, in this most desolate isle, else falls
	Upon your heads--is nothing but heart-sorrow
	And a clear life ensuing.

	[He vanishes in thunder; then, to soft music
	enter the Shapes again, and dance, with
	mocks and mows, and carrying out the table]

PROSPERO	Bravely the figure of this harpy hast thou
	Perform'd, my Ariel; a grace it had, devouring:
	Of my instruction hast thou nothing bated
	In what thou hadst to say: so, with good life
	And observation strange, my meaner ministers
	Their several kinds have done. My high charms work
	And these mine enemies are all knit up
	In their distractions; they now are in my power;
	And in these fits I leave them, while I visit
	Young Ferdinand, whom they suppose is drown'd,
	And his and mine loved darling.

	[Exit above]

GONZALO	I' the name of something holy, sir, why stand you
	In this strange stare?

ALONSO	O, it is monstrous, monstrous:
	Methought the billows spoke and told me of it;
	The winds did sing it to me, and the thunder,
	That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounced
	The name of Prosper: it did bass my trespass.
	Therefore my son i' the ooze is bedded, and
	I'll seek him deeper than e'er plummet sounded
	And with him there lie mudded.
	[Exit]

SEBASTIAN	But one fiend at a time,
	I'll fight their legions o'er.

ANTONIO	I'll be thy second.

	[Exeunt SEBASTIAN, and ANTONIO]

GONZALO	All three of them are desperate: their great guilt,
	Like poison given to work a great time after,
	Now 'gins to bite the spirits. I do beseech you
	That are of suppler joints, follow them swiftly
	And hinder them from what this ecstasy
	May now provoke them to.

ADRIAN	Follow, I pray you.

	[Exeunt]




	THE TEMPEST


ACT IV



SCENE I	Before PROSPERO'S cell.


	[Enter PROSPERO, FERDINAND, and MIRANDA]

PROSPERO	If I have too austerely punish'd you,
	Your compensation makes amends, for I
	Have given you here a third of mine own life,
	Or that for which I live; who once again
	I tender to thy hand: all thy vexations
	Were but my trials of thy love and thou
	Hast strangely stood the test here, afore Heaven,
	I ratify this my rich gift. O Ferdinand,
	Do not smile at me that I boast her off,
	For thou shalt find she will outstrip all praise
	And make it halt behind her.

FERDINAND	I do believe it
	Against an oracle.

PROSPERO	Then, as my gift and thine own acquisition
	Worthily purchased take my daughter: but
	If thou dost break her virgin-knot before
	All sanctimonious ceremonies may
	With full and holy rite be minister'd,
	No sweet aspersion shall the heavens let fall
	To make this contract grow: but barren hate,
	Sour-eyed disdain and discord shall bestrew
	The union of your bed with weeds so loathly
	That you shall hate it both: therefore take heed,
	As Hymen's lamps shall light you.

FERDINAND	As I hope
	For quiet days, fair issue and long life,
	With such love as 'tis now, the murkiest den,
	The most opportune place, the strong'st suggestion.
	Our worser genius can, shall never melt
	Mine honour into lust, to take away
	The edge of that day's celebration
	When I shall think: or Phoebus' steeds are founder'd,
	Or Night kept chain'd below.

PROSPERO	Fairly spoke.
	Sit then and talk with her; she is thine own.
	What, Ariel! my industrious servant, Ariel!

	[Enter ARIEL]

ARIEL	What would my potent master? here I am.

PROSPERO	Thou and thy meaner fellows your last service
	Did worthily perform; and I must use you
	In such another trick. Go bring the rabble,
	O'er whom I give thee power, here to this place:
	Incite them to quick motion; for I must
	Bestow upon the eyes of this young couple
	Some vanity of mine art: it is my promise,
	And they expect it from me.

ARIEL	Presently?

PROSPERO	Ay, with a twink.

ARIEL	   Before you can say 'come' and 'go,'
	And breathe twice and cry 'so, so,'
	Each one, tripping on his toe,
	Will be here with mop and mow.
	Do you love me, master? no?

PROSPERO	Dearly my delicate Ariel. Do not approach
	Till thou dost hear me call.

ARIEL	Well, I conceive.

	[Exit]

PROSPERO	Look thou be true; do not give dalliance
	Too much the rein: the strongest oaths are straw
	To the fire i' the blood: be more abstemious,
	Or else, good night your vow!

FERDINAND	I warrant you sir;
	The white cold virgin snow upon my heart
	Abates the ardour of my liver.

PROSPERO	Well.
	Now come, my Ariel! bring a corollary,
	Rather than want a spirit: appear and pertly!
	No tongue! all eyes! be silent.

	[Soft music]

	[Enter IRIS]

IRIS	Ceres, most bounteous lady, thy rich leas
	Of wheat, rye, barley, vetches, oats and pease;
	Thy turfy mountains, where live nibbling sheep,
	And flat meads thatch'd with stover, them to keep;
	Thy banks with pioned and twilled brims,
	Which spongy April at thy hest betrims,
	To make cold nymphs chaste crowns; and thy broom -groves,
	Whose shadow the dismissed bachelor loves,
	Being lass-lorn: thy pole-clipt vineyard;
	And thy sea-marge, sterile and rocky-hard,
	Where thou thyself dost air;--the queen o' the sky,
	Whose watery arch and messenger am I,
	Bids thee leave these, and with her sovereign grace,
	Here on this grass-plot, in this very place,
	To come and sport: her peacocks fly amain:
	Approach, rich Ceres, her to entertain.

	[Enter CERES]

CERES	Hail, many-colour'd messenger, that ne'er
	Dost disobey the wife of Jupiter;
	Who with thy saffron wings upon my flowers
	Diffusest honey-drops, refreshing showers,
	And with each end of thy blue bow dost crown
	My bosky acres and my unshrubb'd down,
	Rich scarf to my proud earth; why hath thy queen
	Summon'd me hither, to this short-grass'd green?

IRIS	A contract of true love to celebrate;
	And some donation freely to estate
	On the blest lovers.

CERES	Tell me, heavenly bow,
	If Venus or her son, as thou dost know,
	Do now attend the queen? Since they did plot
	The means that dusky Dis my daughter got,
	Her and her blind boy's scandal'd company
	I have forsworn.

IRIS	                  Of her society
	Be not afraid: I met her deity
	Cutting the clouds towards Paphos and her son
	Dove-drawn with her. Here thought they to have done
	Some wanton charm upon this man and maid,
	Whose vows are, that no bed-right shall be paid
	Till Hymen's torch be lighted: but vain;
	Mars's hot minion is returned again;
	Her waspish-headed son has broke his arrows,
	Swears he will shoot no more but play with sparrows
	And be a boy right out.

CERES	High'st queen of state,
	Great Juno, comes; I know her by her gait.

	[Enter JUNO]

JUNO	How does my bounteous sister? Go with me
	To bless this twain, that they may prosperous be
	And honour'd in their issue.

	[They sing:]

JUNO	   Honour, riches, marriage-blessing,
	Long continuance, and increasing,
	Hourly joys be still upon you!
	Juno sings her blessings upon you.

CERES	   Earth's increase, foison plenty,
	Barns and garners never empty,
	Vines and clustering bunches growing,
	Plants with goodly burthen bowing;
	Spring come to you at the farthest
	In the very end of harvest!
	Scarcity and want shall shun you;
	Ceres' blessing so is on you.

FERDINAND	This is a most majestic vision, and
	Harmoniously charmingly. May I be bold
	To think these spirits?

PROSPERO	Spirits, which by mine art
	I have from their confines call'd to enact
	My present fancies.

FERDINAND	Let me live here ever;
	So rare a wonder'd father and a wife
	Makes this place Paradise.

	[Juno and Ceres whisper, and send Iris on
	employment]

PROSPERO	Sweet, now, silence!
	Juno and Ceres whisper seriously;
	There's something else to do: hush, and be mute,
	Or else our spell is marr'd.

IRIS	You nymphs, call'd Naiads, of the windring brooks,
	With your sedged crowns and ever-harmless looks,
	Leave your crisp channels and on this green land
	Answer your summons; Juno does command:
	Come, temperate nymphs, and help to celebrate
	A contract of true love; be not too late.

	[Enter certain Nymphs]

	You sunburnt sicklemen, of August weary,
	Come hither from the furrow and be merry:
	Make holiday; your rye-straw hats put on
	And these fresh nymphs encounter every one
	In country footing.

	[Enter certain Reapers, properly habited: they
	join with the Nymphs in a graceful dance;
	towards the end whereof PROSPERO starts
	suddenly, and speaks; after which, to a
	strange, hollow, and confused noise, they
	heavily vanish]

PROSPERO	[Aside]  I had forgot that foul conspiracy
	Of the beast Caliban and his confederates
	Against my life: the minute of their plot
	Is almost come.

	[To the Spirits]

	Well done! avoid; no more!

FERDINAND	This is strange: your father's in some passion
	That works him strongly.

MIRANDA	Never till this day
	Saw I him touch'd with anger so distemper'd.

PROSPERO	You do look, my son, in a moved sort,
	As if you were dismay'd: be cheerful, sir.
	Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
	As I foretold you, were all spirits and
	Are melted into air, into thin air:
	And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
	The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
	The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
	Ye all which it inherit, shall dissolve
	And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
	Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
	As dreams are made on, and our little life
	Is rounded with a sleep. Sir, I am vex'd;
	Bear with my weakness; my, brain is troubled:
	Be not disturb'd with my infirmity:
	If you be pleased, retire into my cell
	And there repose: a turn or two I'll walk,
	To still my beating mind.


FERDINAND	|
	|  We wish your peace.
MIRANDA	|


	[Exeunt]

PROSPERO	Come with a thought I thank thee, Ariel: come.

	[Enter ARIEL]

ARIEL	Thy thoughts I cleave to. What's thy pleasure?

PROSPERO	Spirit,
	We must prepare to meet with Caliban.

ARIEL	Ay, my commander: when I presented Ceres,
	I thought to have told thee of it, but I fear'd
	Lest I might anger thee.

PROSPERO	Say again, where didst thou leave these varlets?

ARIEL	I told you, sir, they were red-hot with drinking;
	So fun of valour that they smote the air
	For breathing in their faces; beat the ground
	For kissing of their feet; yet always bending
	Towards their project. Then I beat my tabour;
	At which, like unback'd colts, they prick'd
	their ears,
	Advanced their eyelids, lifted up their noses
	As they smelt music: so I charm'd their ears
	That calf-like they my lowing follow'd through
	Tooth'd briers, sharp furzes, pricking goss and thorns,
	Which entered their frail shins: at last I left them
	I' the filthy-mantled pool beyond your cell,
	There dancing up to the chins, that the foul lake
	O'erstunk their feet.

PROSPERO	This was well done, my bird.
	Thy shape invisible retain thou still:
	The trumpery in my house, go bring it hither,
	For stale to catch these thieves.

ARIEL	I go, I go.

	[Exit]

PROSPERO	A devil, a born devil, on whose nature
	Nurture can never stick; on whom my pains,
	Humanely taken, all, all lost, quite lost;
	And as with age his body uglier grows,
	So his mind cankers. I will plague them all,
	Even to roaring.

	[Re-enter ARIEL, loaden with glistering apparel, &c]

	Come, hang them on this line.

	[PROSPERO and ARIEL remain invisible. Enter
	CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO, all wet]

CALIBAN	Pray you, tread softly, that the blind mole may not
	Hear a foot fall: we now are near his cell.

STEPHANO	Monster, your fairy, which you say is
	a harmless fairy, has done little better than
	played the Jack with us.

TRINCULO	Monster, I do smell all horse-piss; at
	which my nose is in great indignation.

STEPHANO	So is mine. Do you hear, monster? If I should take
	a displeasure against you, look you,--

TRINCULO	Thou wert but a lost monster.

CALIBAN	Good my lord, give me thy favour still.
	Be patient, for the prize I'll bring thee to
	Shall hoodwink this mischance: therefore speak softly.
	All's hush'd as midnight yet.

TRINCULO	Ay, but to lose our bottles in the pool,--

STEPHANO	There is not only disgrace and dishonour in that,
	monster, but an infinite loss.

TRINCULO	That's more to me than my wetting: yet this is your
	harmless fairy, monster.

STEPHANO	I will fetch off my bottle, though I be o'er ears
	for my labour.

CALIBAN	Prithee, my king, be quiet. Seest thou here,
	This is the mouth o' the cell: no noise, and enter.
	Do that good mischief which may make this island
	Thine own for ever, and I, thy Caliban,
	For aye thy foot-licker.

STEPHANO	Give me thy hand. I do begin to have bloody thoughts.

TRINCULO	O king Stephano! O peer! O worthy Stephano! look
	what a wardrobe here is for thee!

CALIBAN	Let it alone, thou fool; it is but trash.

TRINCULO	O, ho, monster! we know what belongs to a frippery.
	O king Stephano!

STEPHANO	Put off that gown, Trinculo; by this hand, I'll have
	that gown.

TRINCULO	Thy grace shall have it.

CALIBAN	The dropsy drown this fool I what do you mean
	To dote thus on such luggage? Let's alone
	And do the murder first: if he awake,
	From toe to crown he'll fill our skins with pinches,
	Make us strange stuff.

STEPHANO	Be you quiet, monster. Mistress line,
	is not this my jerkin? Now is the jerkin under
	the line: now, jerkin, you are like to lose your
	hair and prove a bald jerkin.

TRINCULO	Do, do: we steal by line and level, an't like your grace.

STEPHANO	I thank thee for that jest; here's a garment for't:
	wit shall not go unrewarded while I am king of this
	country. 'Steal by line and level' is an excellent
	pass of pate; there's another garment for't.

TRINCULO	Monster, come, put some lime upon your fingers, and
	away with the rest.

CALIBAN	I will have none on't: we shall lose our time,
	And all be turn'd to barnacles, or to apes
	With foreheads villanous low.

STEPHANO	Monster, lay-to your fingers: help to bear this
	away where my hogshead of wine is, or I'll turn you
	out of my kingdom: go to, carry this.

TRINCULO	And this.

STEPHANO	Ay, and this.

	[A noise of hunters heard. Enter divers Spirits,
	in shape of dogs and hounds, and hunt them about,
	PROSPERO and ARIEL setting them on]

PROSPERO	Hey, Mountain, hey!

ARIEL	Silver I there it goes, Silver!

PROSPERO	Fury, Fury! there, Tyrant, there! hark! hark!

	[CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO, are
	driven out]

	Go charge my goblins that they grind their joints
	With dry convulsions, shorten up their sinews
	With aged cramps, and more pinch-spotted make them
	Than pard or cat o' mountain.

ARIEL	Hark, they roar!

PROSPERO	Let them be hunted soundly. At this hour
	Lie at my mercy all mine enemies:
	Shortly shall all my labours end, and thou
	Shalt have the air at freedom: for a little
	Follow, and do me service.

	[Exeunt]




	THE TEMPEST


ACT V



SCENE I	Before PROSPERO'S cell.


	[Enter PROSPERO in his magic robes, and ARIEL]

PROSPERO	Now does my project gather to a head:
	My charms crack not; my spirits obey; and time
	Goes upright with his carriage. How's the day?

ARIEL	On the sixth hour; at which time, my lord,
	You said our work should cease.

PROSPERO	I did say so,
	When first I raised the tempest. Say, my spirit,
	How fares the king and's followers?

ARIEL	Confined together
	In the same fashion as you gave in charge,
	Just as you left them; all prisoners, sir,
	In the line-grove which weather-fends your cell;
	They cannot budge till your release. The king,
	His brother and yours, abide all three distracted
	And the remainder mourning over them,
	Brimful of sorrow and dismay; but chiefly
	Him that you term'd, sir, 'The good old lord Gonzalo;'
	His tears run down his beard, like winter's drops
	From eaves of reeds. Your charm so strongly works 'em
	That if you now beheld them, your affections
	Would become tender.

PROSPERO	Dost thou think so, spirit?

ARIEL	Mine would, sir, were I human.

PROSPERO	And mine shall.
	Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling
	Of their afflictions, and shall not myself,
	One of their kind, that relish all as sharply,
	Passion as they, be kindlier moved than thou art?
	Though with their high wrongs I am struck to the quick,
	Yet with my nobler reason 'gaitist my fury
	Do I take part: the rarer action is
	In virtue than in vengeance: they being penitent,
	The sole drift of my purpose doth extend
	Not a frown further. Go release them, Ariel:
	My charms I'll break, their senses I'll restore,
	And they shall be themselves.

ARIEL	I'll fetch them, sir.

	[Exit]

PROSPERO	Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes and groves,
	And ye that on the sands with printless foot
	Do chase the ebbing Neptune and do fly him
	When he comes back; you demi-puppets that
	By moonshine do the green sour ringlets make,
	Whereof the ewe not bites, and you whose pastime
	Is to make midnight mushrooms, that rejoice
	To hear the solemn curfew; by whose aid,
	Weak masters though ye be, I have bedimm'd
	The noontide sun, call'd forth the mutinous winds,
	And 'twixt the green sea and the azured vault
	Set roaring war: to the dread rattling thunder
	Have I given fire and rifted Jove's stout oak
	With his own bolt; the strong-based promontory
	Have I made shake and by the spurs pluck'd up
	The pine and cedar: graves at my command
	Have waked their sleepers, oped, and let 'em forth
	By my so potent art. But this rough magic
	I here abjure, and, when I have required
	Some heavenly music, which even now I do,
	To work mine end upon their senses that
	This airy charm is for, I'll break my staff,
	Bury it certain fathoms in the earth,
	And deeper than did ever plummet sound
	I'll drown my book.

	[Solemn music]

	[Re-enter ARIEL before: then ALONSO, with a
	frantic gesture, attended by GONZALO;
	SEBASTIAN and ANTONIO in like manner,
	attended by ADRIAN and FRANCISCO   they all
	enter the circle which PROSPERO had made,
	and there stand charmed; which PROSPERO
	observing, speaks:]

	A solemn air and the best comforter
	To an unsettled fancy cure thy brains,
	Now useless, boil'd within thy skull! There stand,
	For you are spell-stopp'd.
	Holy Gonzalo, honourable man,
	Mine eyes, even sociable to the show of thine,
	Fall fellowly drops. The charm dissolves apace,
	And as the morning steals upon the night,
	Melting the darkness, so their rising senses
	Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle
	Their clearer reason. O good Gonzalo,
	My true preserver, and a loyal sir
	To him you follow'st! I will pay thy graces
	Home both in word and deed. Most cruelly
	Didst thou, Alonso, use me and my daughter:
	Thy brother was a furtherer in the act.
	Thou art pinch'd fort now, Sebastian. Flesh and blood,
	You, brother mine, that entertain'd ambition,
	Expell'd remorse and nature; who, with Sebastian,
	Whose inward pinches therefore are most strong,
	Would here have kill'd your king; I do forgive thee,
	Unnatural though thou art. Their understanding
	Begins to swell, and the approaching tide
	Will shortly fill the reasonable shore
	That now lies foul and muddy. Not one of them
	That yet looks on me, or would know me Ariel,
	Fetch me the hat and rapier in my cell:
	I will discase me, and myself present
	As I was sometime Milan: quickly, spirit;
	Thou shalt ere long be free.

	[ARIEL sings and helps to attire him]

	Where the bee sucks. there suck I:
	In a cowslip's bell I lie;
	There I couch when owls do cry.
	On the bat's back I do fly
	After summer merrily.
	Merrily, merrily shall I live now
	Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.

PROSPERO	Why, that's my dainty Ariel! I shall miss thee:
	But yet thou shalt have freedom: so, so, so.
	To the king's ship, invisible as thou art:
	There shalt thou find the mariners asleep
	Under the hatches; the master and the boatswain
	Being awake, enforce them to this place,
	And presently, I prithee.

ARIEL	I drink the air before me, and return
	Or ere your pulse twice beat.

	[Exit]

GONZALO	All torment, trouble, wonder and amazement
	Inhabits here: some heavenly power guide us
	Out of this fearful country!

PROSPERO	Behold, sir king,
	The wronged Duke of Milan, Prospero:
	For more assurance that a living prince
	Does now speak to thee, I embrace thy body;
	And to thee and thy company I bid
	A hearty welcome.

ALONSO	                  Whether thou best he or no,
	Or some enchanted trifle to abuse me,
	As late I have been, I not know: thy pulse
	Beats as of flesh and blood; and, since I saw thee,
	The affliction of my mind amends, with which,
	I fear, a madness held me: this must crave,
	An if this be at all, a most strange story.
	Thy dukedom I resign and do entreat
	Thou pardon me my wrongs. But how should Prospero
	Be living and be here?

PROSPERO	First, noble friend,
	Let me embrace thine age, whose honour cannot
	Be measured or confined.

GONZALO	Whether this be
	Or be not, I'll not swear.

PROSPERO	You do yet taste
	Some subtilties o' the isle, that will not let you
	Believe things certain. Welcome, my friends all!

	[Aside to SEBASTIAN and ANTONIO]

	But you, my brace of lords, were I so minded,
	I here could pluck his highness' frown upon you
	And justify you traitors: at this time
	I will tell no tales.

SEBASTIAN	[Aside]  The devil speaks in him.

PROSPERO	No.
	For you, most wicked sir, whom to call brother
	Would even infect my mouth, I do forgive
	Thy rankest fault; all of them; and require
	My dukedom of thee, which perforce, I know,
	Thou must restore.

ALONSO	                  If thou be'st Prospero,
	Give us particulars of thy preservation;
	How thou hast met us here, who three hours since
	Were wreck'd upon this shore; where I have lost--
	How sharp the point of this remembrance is!--
	My dear son Ferdinand.

PROSPERO	I am woe for't, sir.

ALONSO	Irreparable is the loss, and patience
	Says it is past her cure.

PROSPERO	I rather think
	You have not sought her help, of whose soft grace
	For the like loss I have her sovereign aid
	And rest myself content.

ALONSO	You the like loss!

PROSPERO	As great to me as late; and, supportable
	To make the dear loss, have I means much weaker
	Than you may call to comfort you, for I
	Have lost my daughter.

ALONSO	A daughter?
	O heavens, that they were living both in Naples,
	The king and queen there! that they were, I wish
	Myself were mudded in that oozy bed
	Where my son lies. When did you lose your daughter?

PROSPERO	In this last tempest. I perceive these lords
	At this encounter do so much admire
	That they devour their reason and scarce think
	Their eyes do offices of truth, their words
	Are natural breath: but, howsoe'er you have
	Been justled from your senses, know for certain
	That I am Prospero and that very duke
	Which was thrust forth of Milan, who most strangely
	Upon this shore, where you were wreck'd, was landed,
	To be the lord on't. No more yet of this;
	For 'tis a chronicle of day by day,
	Not a relation for a breakfast nor
	Befitting this first meeting. Welcome, sir;
	This cell's my court: here have I few attendants
	And subjects none abroad: pray you, look in.
	My dukedom since you have given me again,
	I will requite you with as good a thing;
	At least bring forth a wonder, to content ye
	As much as me my dukedom.

	[Here PROSPERO discovers FERDINAND and MIRANDA
	playing at chess]

MIRANDA	Sweet lord, you play me false.

FERDINAND	No, my dear'st love,
	I would not for the world.

MIRANDA	Yes, for a score of kingdoms you should wrangle,
	And I would call it, fair play.

ALONSO	If this prove
	A vision of the Island, one dear son
	Shall I twice lose.

SEBASTIAN	A most high miracle!

FERDINAND	Though the seas threaten, they are merciful;
	I have cursed them without cause.

	[Kneels]

ALONSO	Now all the blessings
	Of a glad father compass thee about!
	Arise, and say how thou camest here.

MIRANDA	O, wonder!
	How many goodly creatures are there here!
	How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world,
	That has such people in't!

PROSPERO	'Tis new to thee.

ALONSO	What is this maid with whom thou wast at play?
	Your eld'st acquaintance cannot be three hours:
	Is she the goddess that hath sever'd us,
	And brought us thus together?

FERDINAND	Sir, she is mortal;
	But by immortal Providence she's mine:
	I chose her when I could not ask my father
	For his advice, nor thought I had one. She
	Is daughter to this famous Duke of Milan,
	Of whom so often I have heard renown,
	But never saw before; of whom I have
	Received a second life; and second father
	This lady makes him to me.

ALONSO	I am hers:
	But, O, how oddly will it sound that I
	Must ask my child forgiveness!

PROSPERO	There, sir, stop:
	Let us not burthen our remembrance with
	A heaviness that's gone.

GONZALO	I have inly wept,
	Or should have spoke ere this. Look down, you god,
	And on this couple drop a blessed crown!
	For it is you that have chalk'd forth the way
	Which brought us hither.

ALONSO	I say, Amen, Gonzalo!

GONZALO	Was Milan thrust from Milan, that his issue
	Should become kings of Naples? O, rejoice
	Beyond a common joy, and set it down
	With gold on lasting pillars: In one voyage
	Did Claribel her husband find at Tunis,
	And Ferdinand, her brother, found a wife
	Where he himself was lost, Prospero his dukedom
	In a poor isle and all of us ourselves
	When no man was his own.

ALONSO	[To FERDINAND and MIRANDA]  Give me your hands:
	Let grief and sorrow still embrace his heart
	That doth not wish you joy!

GONZALO	Be it so! Amen!

	[Re-enter ARIEL, with the Master and Boatswain
	amazedly following]

	O, look, sir, look, sir! here is more of us:
	I prophesied, if a gallows were on land,
	This fellow could not drown. Now, blasphemy,
	That swear'st grace o'erboard, not an oath on shore?
	Hast thou no mouth by land? What is the news?

Boatswain	The best news is, that we have safely found
	Our king and company; the next, our ship--
	Which, but three glasses since, we gave out split--
	Is tight and yare and bravely rigg'd as when
	We first put out to sea.

ARIEL	[Aside to PROSPERO]  Sir, all this service
	Have I done since I went.

PROSPERO	[Aside to ARIEL]  My tricksy spirit!

ALONSO	These are not natural events; they strengthen
	From strange to stranger. Say, how came you hither?

Boatswain	If I did think, sir, I were well awake,
	I'ld strive to tell you. We were dead of sleep,
	And--how we know not--all clapp'd under hatches;
	Where but even now with strange and several noises
	Of roaring, shrieking, howling, jingling chains,
	And more diversity of sounds, all horrible,
	We were awaked; straightway, at liberty;
	Where we, in all her trim, freshly beheld
	Our royal, good and gallant ship, our master
	Capering to eye her: on a trice, so please you,
	Even in a dream, were we divided from them
	And were brought moping hither.

ARIEL	[Aside to PROSPERO]          Was't well done?

PROSPERO	[Aside to ARIEL]  Bravely, my diligence. Thou shalt be free.

ALONSO	This is as strange a maze as e'er men trod
	And there is in this business more than nature
	Was ever conduct of: some oracle
	Must rectify our knowledge.

PROSPERO	Sir, my liege,
	Do not infest your mind with beating on
	The strangeness of this business; at pick'd leisure
	Which shall be shortly, single I'll resolve you,
	Which to you shall seem probable, of every
	These happen'd accidents; till when, be cheerful
	And think of each thing well.

	[Aside to ARIEL]

		        Come hither, spirit:
	Set Caliban and his companions free;
	Untie the spell.

	[Exit ARIEL]

	How fares my gracious sir?
	There are yet missing of your company
	Some few odd lads that you remember not.

	[Re-enter ARIEL, driving in CALIBAN, STEPHANO
	and TRINCULO, in their stolen apparel]

STEPHANO	Every man shift for all the rest, and
	let no man take care for himself; for all is
	but fortune. Coragio, bully-monster, coragio!

TRINCULO	If these be true spies which I wear in my head,
	here's a goodly sight.

CALIBAN	O Setebos, these be brave spirits indeed!
	How fine my master is! I am afraid
	He will chastise me.

SEBASTIAN	Ha, ha!
	What things are these, my lord Antonio?
	Will money buy 'em?

ANTONIO	Very like; one of them
	Is a plain fish, and, no doubt, marketable.

PROSPERO	Mark but the badges of these men, my lords,
	Then say if they be true. This mis-shapen knave,
	His mother was a witch, and one so strong
	That could control the moon, make flows and ebbs,
	And deal in her command without her power.
	These three have robb'd me; and this demi-devil--
	For he's a bastard one--had plotted with them
	To take my life. Two of these fellows you
	Must know and own; this thing of darkness!
	Acknowledge mine.

CALIBAN	                  I shall be pinch'd to death.

ALONSO	Is not this Stephano, my drunken butler?

SEBASTIAN	He is drunk now: where had he wine?

ALONSO	And Trinculo is reeling ripe: where should they
	Find this grand liquor that hath gilded 'em?
	How camest thou in this pickle?

TRINCULO	I have been in such a pickle since I
	saw you last that, I fear me, will never out of
	my bones: I shall not fear fly-blowing.

SEBASTIAN	Why, how now, Stephano!

STEPHANO	O, touch me not; I am not Stephano, but a cramp.

PROSPERO	You'ld be king o' the isle, sirrah?

STEPHANO	I should have been a sore one then.

ALONSO	This is a strange thing as e'er I look'd on.

	[Pointing to Caliban]

PROSPERO	He is as disproportion'd in his manners
	As in his shape. Go, sirrah, to my cell;
	Take with you your companions; as you look
	To have my pardon, trim it handsomely.

CALIBAN	Ay, that I will; and I'll be wise hereafter
	And seek for grace. What a thrice-double ass
	Was I, to take this drunkard for a god
	And worship this dull fool!

PROSPERO	Go to; away!

ALONSO	Hence, and bestow your luggage where you found it.

SEBASTIAN	Or stole it, rather.

	[Exeunt CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO]

PROSPERO	Sir, I invite your highness and your train
	To my poor cell, where you shall take your rest
	For this one night; which, part of it, I'll waste
	With such discourse as, I not doubt, shall make it
	Go quick away; the story of my life
	And the particular accidents gone by
	Since I came to this isle: and in the morn
	I'll bring you to your ship and so to Naples,
	Where I have hope to see the nuptial
	Of these our dear-beloved solemnized;
	And thence retire me to my Milan, where
	Every third thought shall be my grave.

ALONSO	I long
	To hear the story of your life, which must
	Take the ear strangely.

PROSPERO	I'll deliver all;
	And promise you calm seas, auspicious gales
	And sail so expeditious that shall catch
	Your royal fleet far off.

	[Aside to ARIEL]

		    My Ariel, chick,
	That is thy charge: then to the elements
	Be free, and fare thou well! Please you, draw near.

	[Exeunt]




	THE TEMPEST

	EPILOGUE


	SPOKEN BY PROSPERO

	Now my charms are all o'erthrown,
	And what strength I have's mine own,
	Which is most faint: now, 'tis true,
	I must be here confined by you,
	Or sent to Naples. Let me not,
	Since I have my dukedom got
	And pardon'd the deceiver, dwell
	In this bare island by your spell;
	But release me from my bands
	With the help of your good hands:
	Gentle breath of yours my sails
	Must fill, or else my project fails,
	Which was to please. Now I want
	Spirits to enforce, art to enchant,
	And my ending is despair,
	Unless I be relieved by prayer,
	Which pierces so that it assaults
	Mercy itself and frees all faults.
	As you from crimes would pardon'd be,
	Let your indulgence set me free.




The Complete Shakespeare: TRAGEDIES
-----------------------------------




	TITUS ANDRONICUS


	DRAMATIS PERSONAE


SATURNINUS	son to the late Emperor of Rome, and afterwards
	declared Emperor.

BASSIANUS	brother to Saturninus; in love with Lavinia.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	a noble Roman, general against the Goths.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	tribune of the people, and brother to Titus.


LUCIUS	|
	|
QUINTUS	|
	|  sons to Titus Andronicus.
MARTIUS	|
	|
MUTIUS	|


Young LUCIUS	a boy, son to Lucius.

PUBLIUS	son to Marcus the Tribune.


SEMPRONIUS	|
	|
CAIUS	|  kinsmen to Titus.
	|
VALENTINE	|


AEMILIUS	a noble Roman.


ALARBUS	|
	|
DEMETRIUS	|  sons to Tamora.
	|
CHIRON	|


AARON	a Moor, beloved by Tamora.

	A Captain, Tribune, Messenger, and Clown; Romans.
	(Captain:)
	(Messenger:)
	(Clown:)

	Goths and Romans.
	(First Goth:)
	(Second Goth:)
	(Third Goth:)

TAMORA	Queen of the Goths.

LAVINIA	daughter of Titus Andronicus.

	A Nurse. (Nurse:)

	Senators, Tribunes, Officers, Soldiers, and
	Attendants.



SCENE	Rome, and the country near it.




	TITUS ANDRONICUS


ACT I



SCENE I	Rome. Before the Capitol.


	[The Tomb of the ANDRONICI appearing; the Tribunes
	and Senators aloft. Enter, below, from one side,
	SATURNINUS and his Followers; and, from the other
	side, BASSIANUS and his Followers; with drum and colours]

SATURNINUS	Noble patricians, patrons of my right,
	Defend the justice of my cause with arms,
	And, countrymen, my loving followers,
	Plead my successive title with your swords:
	I am his first-born son, that was the last
	That wore the imperial diadem of Rome;
	Then let my father's honours live in me,
	Nor wrong mine age with this indignity.

BASSIANUS	Romans, friends, followers, favorers of my right,
	If ever Bassianus, Caesar's son,
	Were gracious in the eyes of royal Rome,
	Keep then this passage to the Capitol
	And suffer not dishonour to approach
	The imperial seat, to virtue consecrate,
	To justice, continence and nobility;
	But let desert in pure election shine,
	And, Romans, fight for freedom in your choice.

	[Enter MARCUS ANDRONICUS, aloft, with the crown]

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	Princes, that strive by factions and by friends
	Ambitiously for rule and empery,
	Know that the people of Rome, for whom we stand
	A special party, have, by common voice,
	In election for the Roman empery,
	Chosen Andronicus, surnamed Pius
	For many good and great deserts to Rome:
	A nobler man, a braver warrior,
	Lives not this day within the city walls:
	He by the senate is accit'd home
	From weary wars against the barbarous Goths;
	That, with his sons, a terror to our foes,
	Hath yoked a nation strong, train'd up in arms.
	Ten years are spent since first he undertook
	This cause of Rome and chastised with arms
	Our enemies' pride: five times he hath return'd
	Bleeding to Rome, bearing his valiant sons
	In coffins from the field;
	And now at last, laden with horror's spoils,
	Returns the good Andronicus to Rome,
	Renowned Titus, flourishing in arms.
	Let us entreat, by honour of his name,
	Whom worthily you would have now succeed.
	And in the Capitol and senate's right,
	Whom you pretend to honour and adore,
	That you withdraw you and abate your strength;
	Dismiss your followers and, as suitors should,
	Plead your deserts in peace and humbleness.

SATURNINUS	How fair the tribune speaks to calm my thoughts!

BASSIANUS	Marcus Andronicus, so I do ally
	In thy uprightness and integrity,
	And so I love and honour thee and thine,
	Thy noble brother Titus and his sons,
	And her to whom my thoughts are humbled all,
	Gracious Lavinia, Rome's rich ornament,
	That I will here dismiss my loving friends,
	And to my fortunes and the people's favor
	Commit my cause in balance to be weigh'd.

	[Exeunt the followers of BASSIANUS]

SATURNINUS	Friends, that have been thus forward in my right,
	I thank you all and here dismiss you all,
	And to the love and favor of my country
	Commit myself, my person and the cause.

	[Exeunt the followers of SATURNINUS]

	Rome, be as just and gracious unto me
	As I am confident and kind to thee.
	Open the gates, and let me in.

BASSIANUS	Tribunes, and me, a poor competitor.

	[Flourish. SATURNINUS and BASSIANUS go up into the Capitol]

	[Enter a Captain]

Captain	Romans, make way: the good Andronicus.
	Patron of virtue, Rome's best champion,
	Successful in the battles that he fights,
	With honour and with fortune is return'd
	From where he circumscribed with his sword,
	And brought to yoke, the enemies of Rome.

	[Drums and trumpets sounded. Enter MARTIUS and
	MUTIUS; After them, two Men bearing a coffin
	covered with black; then LUCIUS and QUINTUS. After
	them, TITUS ANDRONICUS; and then TAMORA, with
	ALARBUS, DEMETRIUS, CHIRON, AARON, and other Goths,
	prisoners; Soldiers and people following. The
	Bearers set down the coffin, and TITUS speaks]

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Hail, Rome, victorious in thy mourning weeds!
	Lo, as the bark, that hath discharged her fraught,
	Returns with precious jading to the bay
	From whence at first she weigh'd her anchorage,
	Cometh Andronicus, bound with laurel boughs,
	To re-salute his country with his tears,
	Tears of true joy for his return to Rome.
	Thou great defender of this Capitol,
	Stand gracious to the rites that we intend!
	Romans, of five and twenty valiant sons,
	Half of the number that King Priam had,
	Behold the poor remains, alive and dead!
	These that survive let Rome reward with love;
	These that I bring unto their latest home,
	With burial amongst their ancestors:
	Here Goths have given me leave to sheathe my sword.
	Titus, unkind and careless of thine own,
	Why suffer'st thou thy sons, unburied yet,
	To hover on the dreadful shore of Styx?
	Make way to lay them by their brethren.

	[The tomb is opened]

	There greet in silence, as the dead are wont,
	And sleep in peace, slain in your country's wars!
	O sacred receptacle of my joys,
	Sweet cell of virtue and nobility,
	How many sons of mine hast thou in store,
	That thou wilt never render to me more!

LUCIUS	Give us the proudest prisoner of the Goths,
	That we may hew his limbs, and on a pile
	Ad manes fratrum sacrifice his flesh,
	Before this earthy prison of their bones;
	That so the shadows be not unappeased,
	Nor we disturb'd with prodigies on earth.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	I give him you, the noblest that survives,
	The eldest son of this distressed queen.

TAMORA	Stay, Roman brethren! Gracious conqueror,
	Victorious Titus, rue the tears I shed,
	A mother's tears in passion for her son:
	And if thy sons were ever dear to thee,
	O, think my son to be as dear to me!
	Sufficeth not that we are brought to Rome,
	To beautify thy triumphs and return,
	Captive to thee and to thy Roman yoke,
	But must my sons be slaughter'd in the streets,
	For valiant doings in their country's cause?
	O, if to fight for king and commonweal
	Were piety in thine, it is in these.
	Andronicus, stain not thy tomb with blood:
	Wilt thou draw near the nature of the gods?
	Draw near them then in being merciful:
	Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge:
	Thrice noble Titus, spare my first-born son.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Patient yourself, madam, and pardon me.
	These are their brethren, whom you Goths beheld
	Alive and dead, and for their brethren slain
	Religiously they ask a sacrifice:
	To this your son is mark'd, and die he must,
	To appease their groaning shadows that are gone.

LUCIUS	Away with him! and make a fire straight;
	And with our swords, upon a pile of wood,
	Let's hew his limbs till they be clean consumed.

	[Exeunt LUCIUS, QUINTUS, MARTIUS, and MUTIUS, with ALARBUS]

TAMORA	O cruel, irreligious piety!

CHIRON	Was ever Scythia half so barbarous?

DEMETRIUS	Oppose not Scythia to ambitious Rome.
	Alarbus goes to rest; and we survive
	To tremble under Titus' threatening looks.
	Then, madam, stand resolved, but hope withal
	The self-same gods that arm'd the Queen of Troy
	With opportunity of sharp revenge
	Upon the Thracian tyrant in his tent,
	May favor Tamora, the Queen of Goths--
	When Goths were Goths and Tamora was queen--
	To quit the bloody wrongs upon her foes.

	[Re-enter LUCIUS, QUINTUS, MARTIUS and MUTIUS, with
	their swords bloody]

LUCIUS	See, lord and father, how we have perform'd
	Our Roman rites: Alarbus' limbs are lopp'd,
	And entrails feed the sacrificing fire,
	Whose smoke, like incense, doth perfume the sky.
	Remaineth nought, but to inter our brethren,
	And with loud 'larums welcome them to Rome.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Let it be so; and let Andronicus
	Make this his latest farewell to their souls.

	[Trumpets sounded, and the coffin laid in the tomb]

	In peace and honour rest you here, my sons;
	Rome's readiest champions, repose you here in rest,
	Secure from worldly chances and mishaps!
	Here lurks no treason, here no envy swells,
	Here grow no damned grudges; here are no storms,
	No noise, but silence and eternal sleep:
	In peace and honour rest you here, my sons!

	[Enter LAVINIA]

LAVINIA	In peace and honour live Lord Titus long;
	My noble lord and father, live in fame!
	Lo, at this tomb my tributary tears
	I render, for my brethren's obsequies;
	And at thy feet I kneel, with tears of joy,
	Shed on the earth, for thy return to Rome:
	O, bless me here with thy victorious hand,
	Whose fortunes Rome's best citizens applaud!

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Kind Rome, that hast thus lovingly reserved
	The cordial of mine age to glad my heart!
	Lavinia, live; outlive thy father's days,
	And fame's eternal date, for virtue's praise!

	[Enter, below, MARCUS ANDRONICUS and Tribunes;
	re-enter SATURNINUS and BASSIANUS, attended]

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	Long live Lord Titus, my beloved brother,
	Gracious triumpher in the eyes of Rome!

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Thanks, gentle tribune, noble brother Marcus.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	And welcome, nephews, from successful wars,
	You that survive, and you that sleep in fame!
	Fair lords, your fortunes are alike in all,
	That in your country's service drew your swords:
	But safer triumph is this funeral pomp,
	That hath aspired to Solon's happiness
	And triumphs over chance in honour's bed.
	Titus Andronicus, the people of Rome,
	Whose friend in justice thou hast ever been,
	Send thee by me, their tribune and their trust,
	This palliament of white and spotless hue;
	And name thee in election for the empire,
	With these our late-deceased emperor's sons:
	Be candidatus then, and put it on,
	And help to set a head on headless Rome.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	A better head her glorious body fits
	Than his that shakes for age and feebleness:
	What should I don this robe, and trouble you?
	Be chosen with proclamations to-day,
	To-morrow yield up rule, resign my life,
	And set abroad new business for you all?
	Rome, I have been thy soldier forty years,
	And led my country's strength successfully,
	And buried one and twenty valiant sons,
	Knighted in field, slain manfully in arms,
	In right and service of their noble country
	Give me a staff of honour for mine age,
	But not a sceptre to control the world:
	Upright he held it, lords, that held it last.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	Titus, thou shalt obtain and ask the empery.

SATURNINUS	Proud and ambitious tribune, canst thou tell?

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Patience, Prince Saturninus.

SATURNINUS	Romans, do me right:
	Patricians, draw your swords: and sheathe them not
	Till Saturninus be Rome's emperor.
	Andronicus, would thou wert shipp'd to hell,
	Rather than rob me of the people's hearts!

LUCIUS	Proud Saturnine, interrupter of the good
	That noble-minded Titus means to thee!

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Content thee, prince; I will restore to thee
	The people's hearts, and wean them from themselves.

BASSIANUS	Andronicus, I do not flatter thee,
	But honour thee, and will do till I die:
	My faction if thou strengthen with thy friends,
	I will most thankful be; and thanks to men
	Of noble minds is honourable meed.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	People of Rome, and people's tribunes here,
	I ask your voices and your suffrages:
	Will you bestow them friendly on Andronicus?

Tribunes	To gratify the good Andronicus,
	And gratulate his safe return to Rome,
	The people will accept whom he admits.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Tribunes, I thank you: and this suit I make,
	That you create your emperor's eldest son,
	Lord Saturnine; whose virtues will, I hope,
	Reflect on Rome as Titan's rays on earth,
	And ripen justice in this commonweal:
	Then, if you will elect by my advice,
	Crown him and say 'Long live our emperor!'

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	With voices and applause of every sort,
	Patricians and plebeians, we create
	Lord Saturninus Rome's great emperor,
	And say 'Long live our Emperor Saturnine!'

	[A long flourish till they come down]

SATURNINUS	Titus Andronicus, for thy favors done
	To us in our election this day,
	I give thee thanks in part of thy deserts,
	And will with deeds requite thy gentleness:
	And, for an onset, Titus, to advance
	Thy name and honourable family,
	Lavinia will I make my empress,
	Rome's royal mistress, mistress of my heart,
	And in the sacred Pantheon her espouse:
	Tell me, Andronicus, doth this motion please thee?

TITUS ANDRONICUS	It doth, my worthy lord; and in this match
	I hold me highly honour'd of your grace:
	And here in sight of Rome to Saturnine,
	King and commander of our commonweal,
	The wide world's emperor, do I consecrate
	My sword, my chariot and my prisoners;
	Presents well worthy Rome's imperial lord:
	Receive them then, the tribute that I owe,
	Mine honour's ensigns humbled at thy feet.

SATURNINUS	Thanks, noble Titus, father of my life!
	How proud I am of thee and of thy gifts
	Rome shall record, and when I do forget
	The least of these unspeakable deserts,
	Romans, forget your fealty to me.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	[To TAMORA]  Now, madam, are you prisoner to
	an emperor;
	To him that, for your honour and your state,
	Will use you nobly and your followers.

SATURNINUS	A goodly lady, trust me; of the hue
	That I would choose, were I to choose anew.
	Clear up, fair queen, that cloudy countenance:
	Though chance of war hath wrought this change of cheer,
	Thou comest not to be made a scorn in Rome:
	Princely shall be thy usage every way.
	Rest on my word, and let not discontent
	Daunt all your hopes: madam, he comforts you
	Can make you greater than the Queen of Goths.
	Lavinia, you are not displeased with this?

LAVINIA	Not I, my lord; sith true nobility
	Warrants these words in princely courtesy.

SATURNINUS	Thanks, sweet Lavinia. Romans, let us go;
	Ransomless here we set our prisoners free:
	Proclaim our honours, lords, with trump and drum.

	[Flourish. SATURNINUS courts TAMORA in dumb show]

BASSIANUS	Lord Titus, by your leave, this maid is mine.

	[Seizing LAVINIA]

TITUS ANDRONICUS	How, sir! are you in earnest then, my lord?

BASSIANUS	Ay, noble Titus; and resolved withal
	To do myself this reason and this right.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	'Suum cuique' is our Roman justice:
	This prince in justice seizeth but his own.

LUCIUS	And that he will, and shall, if Lucius live.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Traitors, avaunt! Where is the emperor's guard?
	Treason, my lord! Lavinia is surprised!

SATURNINUS	Surprised! by whom?

BASSIANUS	By him that justly may
	Bear his betroth'd from all the world away.

	[Exeunt BASSIANUS and MARCUS with LAVINIA]

MUTIUS	Brothers, help to convey her hence away,
	And with my sword I'll keep this door safe.

	[Exeunt LUCIUS, QUINTUS, and MARTIUS]

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Follow, my lord, and I'll soon bring her back.

MUTIUS	My lord, you pass not here.


TITUS ANDRONICUS	What, villain boy!
	Barr'st me my way in Rome?

	[Stabbing MUTIUS]

MUTIUS	Help, Lucius, help!

	[Dies]

	[During the fray, SATURNINUS, TAMORA, DEMETRIUS,
	CHIRON and AARON go out and re-enter, above]

	[Re-enter LUCIUS]

LUCIUS	My lord, you are unjust, and, more than so,
	In wrongful quarrel you have slain your son.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Nor thou, nor he, are any sons of mine;
	My sons would never so dishonour me:
	Traitor, restore Lavinia to the emperor.

LUCIUS	Dead, if you will; but not to be his wife,
	That is another's lawful promised love.

	[Exit]

SATURNINUS	No, Titus, no; the emperor needs her not,
	Nor her, nor thee, nor any of thy stock:
	I'll trust, by leisure, him that mocks me once;
	Thee never, nor thy traitorous haughty sons,
	Confederates all thus to dishonour me.
	Was there none else in Rome to make a stale,
	But Saturnine? Full well, Andronicus,
	Agree these deeds with that proud brag of thine,
	That said'st I begg'd the empire at thy hands.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	O monstrous! what reproachful words are these?

SATURNINUS	But go thy ways; go, give that changing piece
	To him that flourish'd for her with his sword
	A valiant son-in-law thou shalt enjoy;
	One fit to bandy with thy lawless sons,
	To ruffle in the commonwealth of Rome.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	These words are razors to my wounded heart.

SATURNINUS	And therefore, lovely Tamora, queen of Goths,
	That like the stately Phoebe 'mongst her nymphs
	Dost overshine the gallant'st dames of Rome,
	If thou be pleased with this my sudden choice,
	Behold, I choose thee, Tamora, for my bride,
	And will create thee empress of Rome,
	Speak, Queen of Goths, dost thou applaud my choice?
	And here I swear by all the Roman gods,
	Sith priest and holy water are so near
	And tapers burn so bright and every thing
	In readiness for Hymenaeus stand,
	I will not re-salute the streets of Rome,
	Or climb my palace, till from forth this place
	I lead espoused my bride along with me.

TAMORA	And here, in sight of heaven, to Rome I swear,
	If Saturnine advance the Queen of Goths,
	She will a handmaid be to his desires,
	A loving nurse, a mother to his youth.

SATURNINUS	Ascend, fair queen, Pantheon. Lords, accompany
	Your noble emperor and his lovely bride,
	Sent by the heavens for Prince Saturnine,
	Whose wisdom hath her fortune conquered:
	There shall we consummate our spousal rites.

	[Exeunt all but TITUS]

TITUS ANDRONICUS	I am not bid to wait upon this bride.
	Titus, when wert thou wont to walk alone,
	Dishonour'd thus, and challenged of wrongs?

	[Re-enter MARCUS, LUCIUS, QUINTUS, and MARTIUS]

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	O Titus, see, O, see what thou hast done!
	In a bad quarrel slain a virtuous son.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	No, foolish tribune, no; no son of mine,
	Nor thou, nor these, confederates in the deed
	That hath dishonour'd all our family;
	Unworthy brother, and unworthy sons!

LUCIUS	But let us give him burial, as becomes;
	Give Mutius burial with our brethren.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Traitors, away! he rests not in this tomb:
	This monument five hundred years hath stood,
	Which I have sumptuously re-edified:
	Here none but soldiers and Rome's servitors
	Repose in fame; none basely slain in brawls:
	Bury him where you can; he comes not here.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	My lord, this is impiety in you:
	My nephew Mutius' deeds do plead for him
	He must be buried with his brethren.

QUINTUS	|
	| And shall, or him we will accompany.
MARTIUS	|


TITUS ANDRONICUS	'And shall!' what villain was it that spake
	that word?

QUINTUS	He that would vouch it in any place but here.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	What, would you bury him in my despite?

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	No, noble Titus, but entreat of thee
	To pardon Mutius and to bury him.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Marcus, even thou hast struck upon my crest,
	And, with these boys, mine honour thou hast wounded:
	My foes I do repute you every one;
	So, trouble me no more, but get you gone.

MARTIUS	He is not with himself; let us withdraw.

QUINTUS	Not I, till Mutius' bones be buried.

	[MARCUS and the Sons of TITUS kneel]

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	Brother, for in that name doth nature plead,--

QUINTUS	Father, and in that name doth nature speak,--

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Speak thou no more, if all the rest will speed.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	Renowned Titus, more than half my soul,--

LUCIUS	Dear father, soul and substance of us all,--

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	Suffer thy brother Marcus to inter
	His noble nephew here in virtue's nest,
	That died in honour and Lavinia's cause.
	Thou art a Roman; be not barbarous:
	The Greeks upon advice did bury Ajax
	That slew himself; and wise Laertes' son
	Did graciously plead for his funerals:
	Let not young Mutius, then, that was thy joy
	Be barr'd his entrance here.


TITUS ANDRONICUS	Rise, Marcus, rise.
	The dismall'st day is this that e'er I saw,
	To be dishonour'd by my sons in Rome!
	Well, bury him, and bury me the next.

	[MUTIUS is put into the tomb]

LUCIUS	There lie thy bones, sweet Mutius, with thy friends,
	Till we with trophies do adorn thy tomb.

All	[Kneeling]  No man shed tears for noble Mutius;
	He lives in fame that died in virtue's cause.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	My lord, to step out of these dreary dumps,
	How comes it that the subtle Queen of Goths
	Is of a sudden thus advanced in Rome?

TITUS ANDRONICUS	I know not, Marcus; but I know it is,
	Whether by device or no, the heavens can tell:
	Is she not then beholding to the man
	That brought her for this high good turn so far?
	Yes, and will nobly him remunerate.

	[Flourish. Re-enter, from one side, SATURNINUS
	attended, TAMORA, DEMETRIUS, CHIRON and AARON; from
	the other, BASSIANUS, LAVINIA, and others]

SATURNINUS	So, Bassianus, you have play'd your prize:
	God give you joy, sir, of your gallant bride!

BASSIANUS	And you of yours, my lord! I say no more,
	Nor wish no less; and so, I take my leave.

SATURNINUS	Traitor, if Rome have law or we have power,
	Thou and thy faction shall repent this rape.

BASSIANUS	Rape, call you it, my lord, to seize my own,
	My truth-betrothed love and now my wife?
	But let the laws of Rome determine all;
	Meanwhile I am possess'd of that is mine.

SATURNINUS	'Tis good, sir: you are very short with us;
	But, if we live, we'll be as sharp with you.

BASSIANUS	My lord, what I have done, as best I may,
	Answer I must and shall do with my life.
	Only thus much I give your grace to know:
	By all the duties that I owe to Rome,
	This noble gentleman, Lord Titus here,
	Is in opinion and in honour wrong'd;
	That in the rescue of Lavinia
	With his own hand did slay his youngest son,
	In zeal to you and highly moved to wrath
	To be controll'd in that he frankly gave:
	Receive him, then, to favor, Saturnine,
	That hath express'd himself in all his deeds
	A father and a friend to thee and Rome.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Prince Bassianus, leave to plead my deeds:
	'Tis thou and those that have dishonour'd me.
	Rome and the righteous heavens be my judge,
	How I have loved and honour'd Saturnine!

TAMORA	My worthy lord, if ever Tamora
	Were gracious in those princely eyes of thine,
	Then hear me speak in indifferently for all;
	And at my suit, sweet, pardon what is past.

SATURNINUS	What, madam! be dishonour'd openly,
	And basely put it up without revenge?

TAMORA	Not so, my lord; the gods of Rome forfend
	I should be author to dishonour you!
	But on mine honour dare I undertake
	For good Lord Titus' innocence in all;
	Whose fury not dissembled speaks his griefs:
	Then, at my suit, look graciously on him;
	Lose not so noble a friend on vain suppose,
	Nor with sour looks afflict his gentle heart.
	[Aside to SATURNINUS]  My lord, be ruled by me,
	be won at last;
	Dissemble all your griefs and discontents:
	You are but newly planted in your throne;
	Lest, then, the people, and patricians too,
	Upon a just survey, take Titus' part,
	And so supplant you for ingratitude,
	Which Rome reputes to be a heinous sin,
	Yield at entreats; and then let me alone:
	I'll find a day to massacre them all
	And raze their faction and their family,
	The cruel father and his traitorous sons,
	To whom I sued for my dear son's life,
	And make them know what 'tis to let a queen
	Kneel in the streets and beg for grace in vain.

	[Aloud]

	Come, come, sweet emperor; come, Andronicus;
	Take up this good old man, and cheer the heart
	That dies in tempest of thy angry frown.

SATURNINUS	Rise, Titus, rise; my empress hath prevail'd.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	I thank your majesty, and her, my lord:
	These words, these looks, infuse new life in me.

TAMORA	Titus, I am incorporate in Rome,
	A Roman now adopted happily,
	And must advise the emperor for his good.
	This day all quarrels die, Andronicus;
	And let it be mine honour, good my lord,
	That I have reconciled your friends and you.
	For you, Prince Bassianus, I have pass'd
	My word and promise to the emperor,
	That you will be more mild and tractable.
	And fear not lords, and you, Lavinia;
	By my advice, all humbled on your knees,
	You shall ask pardon of his majesty.

LUCIUS	We do, and vow to heaven and to his highness,
	That what we did was mildly as we might,
	Tendering our sister's honour and our own.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	That, on mine honour, here I do protest.

SATURNINUS	Away, and talk not; trouble us no more.

TAMORA	Nay, nay, sweet emperor, we must all be friends:
	The tribune and his nephews kneel for grace;
	I will not be denied: sweet heart, look back.

SATURNINUS	Marcus, for thy sake and thy brother's here,
	And at my lovely Tamora's entreats,
	I do remit these young men's heinous faults: Stand up.
	Lavinia, though you left me like a churl,
	I found a friend, and sure as death I swore
	I would not part a bachelor from the priest.
	Come, if the emperor's court can feast two brides,
	You are my guest, Lavinia, and your friends.
	This day shall be a love-day, Tamora.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	To-morrow, an it please your majesty
	To hunt the panther and the hart with me,
	With horn and hound we'll give your grace bonjour.

SATURNINUS	Be it so, Titus, and gramercy too.

	[Flourish. Exeunt]




	TITUS ANDRONICUS


ACT II



SCENE I	Rome. Before the Palace.


	[Enter AARON]

AARON	Now climbeth Tamora Olympus' top,
	Safe out of fortune's shot; and sits aloft,
	Secure of thunder's crack or lightning flash;
	Advanced above pale envy's threatening reach.
	As when the golden sun salutes the morn,
	And, having gilt the ocean with his beams,
	Gallops the zodiac in his glistering coach,
	And overlooks the highest-peering hills;
	So Tamora:
	Upon her wit doth earthly honour wait,
	And virtue stoops and trembles at her frown.
	Then, Aaron, arm thy heart, and fit thy thoughts,
	To mount aloft with thy imperial mistress,
	And mount her pitch, whom thou in triumph long
	Hast prisoner held, fetter'd in amorous chains
	And faster bound to Aaron's charming eyes
	Than is Prometheus tied to Caucasus.
	Away with slavish weeds and servile thoughts!
	I will be bright, and shine in pearl and gold,
	To wait upon this new-made empress.
	To wait, said I? to wanton with this queen,
	This goddess, this Semiramis, this nymph,
	This siren, that will charm Rome's Saturnine,
	And see his shipwreck and his commonweal's.
	Holloa! what storm is this?

	[Enter DEMETRIUS and CHIRON, braving]

DEMETRIUS	Chiron, thy years want wit, thy wit wants edge,
	And manners, to intrude where I am graced;
	And may, for aught thou know'st, affected be.

CHIRON	Demetrius, thou dost over-ween in all;
	And so in this, to bear me down with braves.
	'Tis not the difference of a year or two
	Makes me less gracious or thee more fortunate:
	I am as able and as fit as thou
	To serve, and to deserve my mistress' grace;
	And that my sword upon thee shall approve,
	And plead my passions for Lavinia's love.

AARON	[Aside]  Clubs, clubs! these lovers will not keep
	the peace.

DEMETRIUS	Why, boy, although our mother, unadvised,
	Gave you a dancing-rapier by your side,
	Are you so desperate grown, to threat your friends?
	Go to; have your lath glued within your sheath
	Till you know better how to handle it.

CHIRON	Meanwhile, sir, with the little skill I have,
	Full well shalt thou perceive how much I dare.

DEMETRIUS	Ay, boy, grow ye so brave?

	[They draw]

AARON	[Coming forward]  Why, how now, lords!
	So near the emperor's palace dare you draw,
	And maintain such a quarrel openly?
	Full well I wot the ground of all this grudge:
	I would not for a million of gold
	The cause were known to them it most concerns;
	Nor would your noble mother for much more
	Be so dishonour'd in the court of Rome.
	For shame, put up.

DEMETRIUS	                  Not I, till I have sheathed
	My rapier in his bosom and withal
	Thrust these reproachful speeches down his throat
	That he hath breathed in my dishonour here.

CHIRON	For that I am prepared and full resolved.
	Foul-spoken coward, that thunder'st with thy tongue,
	And with thy weapon nothing darest perform!

AARON	Away, I say!
	Now, by the gods that warlike Goths adore,
	This petty brabble will undo us all.
	Why, lords, and think you not how dangerous
	It is to jet upon a prince's right?
	What, is Lavinia then become so loose,
	Or Bassianus so degenerate,
	That for her love such quarrels may be broach'd
	Without controlment, justice, or revenge?
	Young lords, beware! and should the empress know
	This discord's ground, the music would not please.

CHIRON	I care not, I, knew she and all the world:
	I love Lavinia more than all the world.

DEMETRIUS	Youngling, learn thou to make some meaner choice:
	Lavinia is thine elder brother's hope.

AARON	Why, are ye mad? or know ye not, in Rome
	How furious and impatient they be,
	And cannot brook competitors in love?
	I tell you, lords, you do but plot your deaths
	By this device.

CHIRON	                  Aaron, a thousand deaths
	Would I propose to achieve her whom I love.

AARON	To achieve her! how?

DEMETRIUS	Why makest thou it so strange?
	She is a woman, therefore may be woo'd;
	She is a woman, therefore may be won;
	She is Lavinia, therefore must be loved.
	What, man! more water glideth by the mill
	Than wots the miller of; and easy it is
	Of a cut loaf to steal a shive, we know:
	Though Bassianus be the emperor's brother.
	Better than he have worn Vulcan's badge.

AARON	[Aside]  Ay, and as good as Saturninus may.

DEMETRIUS	Then why should he despair that knows to court it
	With words, fair looks and liberality?
	What, hast not thou full often struck a doe,
	And borne her cleanly by the keeper's nose?

AARON	Why, then, it seems, some certain snatch or so
	Would serve your turns.

CHIRON	Ay, so the turn were served.

DEMETRIUS	Aaron, thou hast hit it.

AARON	Would you had hit it too!
	Then should not we be tired with this ado.
	Why, hark ye, hark ye! and are you such fools
	To square for this? would it offend you, then
	That both should speed?

CHIRON	Faith, not me.

DEMETRIUS	                  Nor me, so I were one.

AARON	For shame, be friends, and join for that you jar:
	'Tis policy and stratagem must do
	That you affect; and so must you resolve,
	That what you cannot as you would achieve,
	You must perforce accomplish as you may.
	Take this of me: Lucrece was not more chaste
	Than this Lavinia, Bassianus' love.
	A speedier course than lingering languishment
	Must we pursue, and I have found the path.
	My lords, a solemn hunting is in hand;
	There will the lovely Roman ladies troop:
	The forest walks are wide and spacious;
	And many unfrequented plots there are
	Fitted by kind for rape and villany:
	Single you thither then this dainty doe,
	And strike her home by force, if not by words:
	This way, or not at all, stand you in hope.
	Come, come, our empress, with her sacred wit
	To villany and vengeance consecrate,
	Will we acquaint with all that we intend;
	And she shall file our engines with advice,
	That will not suffer you to square yourselves,
	But to your wishes' height advance you both.
	The emperor's court is like the house of Fame,
	The palace full of tongues, of eyes, and ears:
	The woods are ruthless, dreadful, deaf, and dull;
	There speak, and strike, brave boys, and take
	your turns;
	There serve your lusts, shadow'd from heaven's eye,
	And revel in Lavinia's treasury.

CHIRON	Thy counsel, lad, smells of no cowardice,

DEMETRIUS	Sit fas aut nefas, till I find the stream
	To cool this heat, a charm to calm these fits.
	Per Styga, per manes vehor.

	[Exeunt]




	TITUS ANDRONICUS


ACT II



SCENE II	A forest near Rome. Horns and cry of hounds heard.


	[Enter TITUS ANDRONICUS, with Hunters, &c., MARCUS,
	LUCIUS, QUINTUS, and MARTIUS]

TITUS ANDRONICUS	The hunt is up, the morn is bright and grey,
	The fields are fragrant and the woods are green:
	Uncouple here and let us make a bay
	And wake the emperor and his lovely bride
	And rouse the prince and ring a hunter's peal,
	That all the court may echo with the noise.
	Sons, let it be your charge, as it is ours,
	To attend the emperor's person carefully:
	I have been troubled in my sleep this night,
	But dawning day new comfort hath inspired.

	[A cry of hounds and horns, winded in a peal. Enter
	SATURNINUS, TAMORA, BASSIANUS, LAVINIA, DEMETRIUS,
	CHIRON, and Attendants]

	Many good morrows to your majesty;
	Madam, to you as many and as good:
	I promised your grace a hunter's peal.

SATURNINUS	And you have rung it lustily, my lord;
	Somewhat too early for new-married ladies.

BASSIANUS	Lavinia, how say you?

LAVINIA	I say, no;
	I have been broad awake two hours and more.

SATURNINUS	Come on, then; horse and chariots let us have,
	And to our sport.

	[To TAMORA]

	Madam, now shall ye see
	Our Roman hunting.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	                  I have dogs, my lord,
	Will rouse the proudest panther in the chase,
	And climb the highest promontory top.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	And I have horse will follow where the game
	Makes way, and run like swallows o'er the plain.

DEMETRIUS	Chiron, we hunt not, we, with horse nor hound,
	But hope to pluck a dainty doe to ground.

	[Exeunt]




	TITUS ANDRONICUS


ACT II



SCENE III	A lonely part of the forest.


	[Enter AARON, with a bag of gold]

AARON	He that had wit would think that I had none,
	To bury so much gold under a tree,
	And never after to inherit it.
	Let him that thinks of me so abjectly
	Know that this gold must coin a stratagem,
	Which, cunningly effected, will beget
	A very excellent piece of villany:
	And so repose, sweet gold, for their unrest

	[Hides the gold]

	That have their alms out of the empress' chest.

	[Enter TAMORA]

TAMORA	My lovely Aaron, wherefore look'st thou sad,
	When every thing doth make a gleeful boast?
	The birds chant melody on every bush,
	The snake lies rolled in the cheerful sun,
	The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind
	And make a chequer'd shadow on the ground:
	Under their sweet shade, Aaron, let us sit,
	And, whilst the babbling echo mocks the hounds,
	Replying shrilly to the well-tuned horns,
	As if a double hunt were heard at once,
	Let us sit down and mark their yelping noise;
	And, after conflict such as was supposed
	The wandering prince and Dido once enjoy'd,
	When with a happy storm they were surprised
	And curtain'd with a counsel-keeping cave,
	We may, each wreathed in the other's arms,
	Our pastimes done, possess a golden slumber;
	Whiles hounds and horns and sweet melodious birds
	Be unto us as is a nurse's song
	Of lullaby to bring her babe asleep.

AARON	Madam, though Venus govern your desires,
	Saturn is dominator over mine:
	What signifies my deadly-standing eye,
	My silence and my cloudy melancholy,
	My fleece of woolly hair that now uncurls
	Even as an adder when she doth unroll
	To do some fatal execution?
	No, madam, these are no venereal signs:
	Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand,
	Blood and revenge are hammering in my head.
	Hark Tamora, the empress of my soul,
	Which never hopes more heaven than rests in thee,
	This is the day of doom for Bassianus:
	His Philomel must lose her tongue to-day,
	Thy sons make pillage of her chastity
	And wash their hands in Bassianus' blood.
	Seest thou this letter? take it up, I pray thee,
	And give the king this fatal plotted scroll.
	Now question me no more; we are espied;
	Here comes a parcel of our hopeful booty,
	Which dreads not yet their lives' destruction.

TAMORA	Ah, my sweet Moor, sweeter to me than life!

AARON	No more, great empress; Bassianus comes:
	Be cross with him; and I'll go fetch thy sons
	To back thy quarrels, whatsoe'er they be.

	[Exit]

	[Enter BASSIANUS and LAVINIA]

BASSIANUS	Who have we here? Rome's royal empress,
	Unfurnish'd of her well-beseeming troop?
	Or is it Dian, habited like her,
	Who hath abandoned her holy groves
	To see the general hunting in this forest?

TAMORA	Saucy controller of our private steps!
	Had I the power that some say Dian had,
	Thy temples should be planted presently
	With horns, as was Actaeon's; and the hounds
	Should drive upon thy new-transformed limbs,
	Unmannerly intruder as thou art!

LAVINIA	Under your patience, gentle empress,
	'Tis thought you have a goodly gift in horning;
	And to be doubted that your Moor and you
	Are singled forth to try experiments:
	Jove shield your husband from his hounds to-day!
	'Tis pity they should take him for a stag.

BASSIANUS	Believe me, queen, your swarth Cimmerian
	Doth make your honour of his body's hue,
	Spotted, detested, and abominable.
	Why are you sequester'd from all your train,
	Dismounted from your snow-white goodly steed.
	And wander'd hither to an obscure plot,
	Accompanied but with a barbarous Moor,
	If foul desire had not conducted you?

LAVINIA	And, being intercepted in your sport,
	Great reason that my noble lord be rated
	For sauciness. I pray you, let us hence,
	And let her joy her raven-colour'd love;
	This valley fits the purpose passing well.

BASSIANUS	The king my brother shall have note of this.

LAVINIA	Ay, for these slips have made him noted long:
	Good king, to be so mightily abused!

TAMORA	Why have I patience to endure all this?

	[Enter DEMETRIUS and CHIRON]

DEMETRIUS	How now, dear sovereign, and our gracious mother!
	Why doth your highness look so pale and wan?

TAMORA	Have I not reason, think you, to look pale?
	These two have 'ticed me hither to this place:
	A barren detested vale, you see it is;
	The trees, though summer, yet forlorn and lean,
	O'ercome with moss and baleful mistletoe:
	Here never shines the sun; here nothing breeds,
	Unless the nightly owl or fatal raven:
	And when they show'd me this abhorred pit,
	They told me, here, at dead time of the night,
	A thousand fiends, a thousand hissing snakes,
	Ten thousand swelling toads, as many urchins,
	Would make such fearful and confused cries
	As any mortal body hearing it
	Should straight fall mad, or else die suddenly.
	No sooner had they told this hellish tale,
	But straight they told me they would bind me here
	Unto the body of a dismal yew,
	And leave me to this miserable death:
	And then they call'd me foul adulteress,
	Lascivious Goth, and all the bitterest terms
	That ever ear did hear to such effect:
	And, had you not by wondrous fortune come,
	This vengeance on me had they executed.
	Revenge it, as you love your mother's life,
	Or be ye not henceforth call'd my children.

DEMETRIUS	This is a witness that I am thy son.

	[Stabs BASSIANUS]

CHIRON	And this for me, struck home to show my strength.

	[Also stabs BASSIANUS, who dies]

LAVINIA	Ay, come, Semiramis, nay, barbarous Tamora,
	For no name fits thy nature but thy own!

TAMORA	Give me thy poniard; you shall know, my boys
	Your mother's hand shall right your mother's wrong.

DEMETRIUS	Stay, madam; here is more belongs to her;
	First thrash the corn, then after burn the straw:
	This minion stood upon her chastity,
	Upon her nuptial vow, her loyalty,
	And with that painted hope braves your mightiness:
	And shall she carry this unto her grave?

CHIRON	An if she do, I would I were an eunuch.
	Drag hence her husband to some secret hole,
	And make his dead trunk pillow to our lust.

TAMORA	But when ye have the honey ye desire,
	Let not this wasp outlive, us both to sting.

CHIRON	I warrant you, madam, we will make that sure.
	Come, mistress, now perforce we will enjoy
	That nice-preserved honesty of yours.

LAVINIA	O Tamora! thou bear'st a woman's face,--

TAMORA	I will not hear her speak; away with her!

LAVINIA	Sweet lords, entreat her hear me but a word.

DEMETRIUS	Listen, fair madam: let it be your glory
	To see her tears; but be your heart to them
	As unrelenting flint to drops of rain.

LAVINIA	When did the tiger's young ones teach the dam?
	O, do not learn her wrath; she taught it thee;
	The milk thou suck'dst from her did turn to marble;
	Even at thy teat thou hadst thy tyranny.
	Yet every mother breeds not sons alike:

	[To CHIRON]

	Do thou entreat her show a woman pity.

CHIRON	What, wouldst thou have me prove myself a bastard?

LAVINIA	'Tis true; the raven doth not hatch a lark:
	Yet have I heard,--O, could I find it now!--
	The lion moved with pity did endure
	To have his princely paws pared all away:
	Some say that ravens foster forlorn children,
	The whilst their own birds famish in their nests:
	O, be to me, though thy hard heart say no,
	Nothing so kind, but something pitiful!

TAMORA	I know not what it means; away with her!

LAVINIA	O, let me teach thee! for my father's sake,
	That gave thee life, when well he might have
	slain thee,
	Be not obdurate, open thy deaf ears.

TAMORA	Hadst thou in person ne'er offended me,
	Even for his sake am I pitiless.
	Remember, boys, I pour'd forth tears in vain,
	To save your brother from the sacrifice;
	But fierce Andronicus would not relent;
	Therefore, away with her, and use her as you will,
	The worse to her, the better loved of me.

LAVINIA	O Tamora, be call'd a gentle queen,
	And with thine own hands kill me in this place!
	For 'tis not life that I have begg'd so long;
	Poor I was slain when Bassianus died.

TAMORA	What begg'st thou, then? fond woman, let me go.

LAVINIA	'Tis present death I beg; and one thing more
	That womanhood denies my tongue to tell:
	O, keep me from their worse than killing lust,
	And tumble me into some loathsome pit,
	Where never man's eye may behold my body:
	Do this, and be a charitable murderer.

TAMORA	So should I rob my sweet sons of their fee:
	No, let them satisfy their lust on thee.

DEMETRIUS	Away! for thou hast stay'd us here too long.

LAVINIA	No grace? no womanhood? Ah, beastly creature!
	The blot and enemy to our general name!
	Confusion fall--

CHIRON	Nay, then I'll stop your mouth. Bring thou her husband:
	This is the hole where Aaron bid us hide him.

	[DEMETRIUS throws the body of BASSIANUS into the
	pit; then exeunt DEMETRIUS and CHIRON, dragging
	off LAVINIA]

TAMORA	Farewell, my sons: see that you make her sure.
	Ne'er let my heart know merry cheer indeed,
	Till all the Andronici be made away.
	Now will I hence to seek my lovely Moor,
	And let my spleenful sons this trull deflow'r.

	[Exit]

	[Re-enter AARON, with QUINTUS and MARTIUS]

AARON	Come on, my lords, the better foot before:
	Straight will I bring you to the loathsome pit
	Where I espied the panther fast asleep.

QUINTUS	My sight is very dull, whate'er it bodes.

MARTIUS	And mine, I promise you; were't not for shame,
	Well could I leave our sport to sleep awhile.

	[Falls into the pit]

QUINTUS	What art thou fall'n? What subtle hole is this,
	Whose mouth is cover'd with rude-growing briers,
	Upon whose leaves are drops of new-shed blood
	As fresh as morning dew distill'd on flowers?
	A very fatal place it seems to me.

	Speak, brother, hast thou hurt thee with the fall?

MARTIUS	O brother, with the dismall'st object hurt
	That ever eye with sight made heart lament!

AARON	[Aside]  Now will I fetch the king to find them here,
	That he thereby may give a likely guess
	How these were they that made away his brother.

	[Exit]

MARTIUS	Why dost not comfort me, and help me out
	From this unhallowed and blood-stained hole?

QUINTUS	I am surprised with an uncouth fear;
	A chilling sweat o'er-runs my trembling joints:
	My heart suspects more than mine eye can see.

MARTIUS	To prove thou hast a true-divining heart,
	Aaron and thou look down into this den,
	And see a fearful sight of blood and death.

QUINTUS	Aaron is gone; and my compassionate heart
	Will not permit mine eyes once to behold
	The thing whereat it trembles by surmise;
	O, tell me how it is; for ne'er till now
	Was I a child to fear I know not what.

MARTIUS	Lord Bassianus lies embrewed here,
	All on a heap, like to a slaughter'd lamb,
	In this detested, dark, blood-drinking pit.

QUINTUS	If it be dark, how dost thou know 'tis he?

MARTIUS	Upon his bloody finger he doth wear
	A precious ring, that lightens all the hole,
	Which, like a taper in some monument,
	Doth shine upon the dead man's earthy cheeks,
	And shows the ragged entrails of the pit:
	So pale did shine the moon on Pyramus
	When he by night lay bathed in maiden blood.
	O brother, help me with thy fainting hand--
	If fear hath made thee faint, as me it hath--
	Out of this fell devouring receptacle,
	As hateful as Cocytus' misty mouth.

QUINTUS	Reach me thy hand, that I may help thee out;
	Or, wanting strength to do thee so much good,
	I may be pluck'd into the swallowing womb
	Of this deep pit, poor Bassianus' grave.
	I have no strength to pluck thee to the brink.

MARTIUS	Nor I no strength to climb without thy help.

QUINTUS	Thy hand once more; I will not loose again,
	Till thou art here aloft, or I below:
	Thou canst not come to me: I come to thee.

	[Falls in]

	[Enter SATURNINUS with AARON]

SATURNINUS	Along with me: I'll see what hole is here,
	And what he is that now is leap'd into it.
	Say who art thou that lately didst descend
	Into this gaping hollow of the earth?

MARTIUS	The unhappy son of old Andronicus:
	Brought hither in a most unlucky hour,
	To find thy brother Bassianus dead.

SATURNINUS	My brother dead! I know thou dost but jest:
	He and his lady both are at the lodge
	Upon the north side of this pleasant chase;
	'Tis not an hour since I left him there.

MARTIUS	We know not where you left him all alive;
	But, out, alas! here have we found him dead.

	[Re-enter TAMORA, with Attendants; TITUS
	ANDRONICUS, and Lucius]

TAMORA	Where is my lord the king?

SATURNINUS	Here, Tamora, though grieved with killing grief.

TAMORA	Where is thy brother Bassianus?

SATURNINUS	Now to the bottom dost thou search my wound:
	Poor Bassianus here lies murdered.

TAMORA	Then all too late I bring this fatal writ,
	The complot of this timeless tragedy;
	And wonder greatly that man's face can fold
	In pleasing smiles such murderous tyranny.

	[She giveth SATURNINUS a letter]

SATURNINUS	[Reads]  'An if we miss to meet him handsomely--
	Sweet huntsman, Bassianus 'tis we mean--
	Do thou so much as dig the grave for him:
	Thou know'st our meaning. Look for thy reward
	Among the nettles at the elder-tree
	Which overshades the mouth of that same pit
	Where we decreed to bury Bassianus.
	Do this, and purchase us thy lasting friends.'
	O Tamora! was ever heard the like?
	This is the pit, and this the elder-tree.
	Look, sirs, if you can find the huntsman out
	That should have murdered Bassianus here.

AARON	My gracious lord, here is the bag of gold.

SATURNINUS	[To TITUS]  Two of thy whelps, fell curs of
	bloody kind,
	Have here bereft my brother of his life.
	Sirs, drag them from the pit unto the prison:
	There let them bide until we have devised
	Some never-heard-of torturing pain for them.

TAMORA	What, are they in this pit? O wondrous thing!
	How easily murder is discovered!

TITUS ANDRONICUS	High emperor, upon my feeble knee
	I beg this boon, with tears not lightly shed,
	That this fell fault of my accursed sons,
	Accursed if the fault be proved in them,--

SATURNINUS	If it be proved! you see it is apparent.
	Who found this letter? Tamora, was it you?

TAMORA	Andronicus himself did take it up.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	I did, my lord: yet let me be their bail;
	For, by my father's reverend tomb, I vow
	They shall be ready at your highness' will
	To answer their suspicion with their lives.

SATURNINUS	Thou shalt not bail them: see thou follow me.
	Some bring the murder'd body, some the murderers:
	Let them not speak a word; the guilt is plain;
	For, by my soul, were there worse end than death,
	That end upon them should be executed.

TAMORA	Andronicus, I will entreat the king;
	Fear not thy sons; they shall do well enough.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Come, Lucius, come; stay not to talk with them.

	[Exeunt]




	TITUS ANDRONICUS


ACT II



SCENE IV	Another part of the forest.


	[Enter DEMETRIUS and CHIRON with LAVINIA, ravished;
	her hands cut off, and her tongue cut out]

DEMETRIUS	So, now go tell, an if thy tongue can speak,
	Who 'twas that cut thy tongue and ravish'd thee.

CHIRON	Write down thy mind, bewray thy meaning so,
	An if thy stumps will let thee play the scribe.

DEMETRIUS	See, how with signs and tokens she can scrowl.

CHIRON	Go home, call for sweet water, wash thy hands.

DEMETRIUS	She hath no tongue to call, nor hands to wash;
	And so let's leave her to her silent walks.

CHIRON	An 'twere my case, I should go hang myself.

DEMETRIUS	If thou hadst hands to help thee knit the cord.

	[Exeunt DEMETRIUS and CHIRON]

	[Enter MARCUS]

MARCUS	Who is this? my niece, that flies away so fast!
	Cousin, a word; where is your husband?
	If I do dream, would all my wealth would wake me!
	If I do wake, some planet strike me down,
	That I may slumber in eternal sleep!
	Speak, gentle niece, what stern ungentle hands
	Have lopp'd and hew'd and made thy body bare
	Of her two branches, those sweet ornaments,
	Whose circling shadows kings have sought to sleep in,
	And might not gain so great a happiness
	As have thy love? Why dost not speak to me?
	Alas, a crimson river of warm blood,
	Like to a bubbling fountain stirr'd with wind,
	Doth rise and fall between thy rosed lips,
	Coming and going with thy honey breath.
	But, sure, some Tereus hath deflowered thee,
	And, lest thou shouldst detect him, cut thy tongue.
	Ah, now thou turn'st away thy face for shame!
	And, notwithstanding all this loss of blood,
	As from a conduit with three issuing spouts,
	Yet do thy cheeks look red as Titan's face
	Blushing to be encountered with a cloud.
	Shall I speak for thee? shall I say 'tis so?
	O, that I knew thy heart; and knew the beast,
	That I might rail at him, to ease my mind!
	Sorrow concealed, like an oven stopp'd,
	Doth burn the heart to cinders where it is.
	Fair Philomela, she but lost her tongue,
	And in a tedious sampler sew'd her mind:
	But, lovely niece, that mean is cut from thee;
	A craftier Tereus, cousin, hast thou met,
	And he hath cut those pretty fingers off,
	That could have better sew'd than Philomel.
	O, had the monster seen those lily hands
	Tremble, like aspen-leaves, upon a lute,
	And make the silken strings delight to kiss them,
	He would not then have touch'd them for his life!
	Or, had he heard the heavenly harmony
	Which that sweet tongue hath made,
	He would have dropp'd his knife, and fell asleep
	As Cerberus at the Thracian poet's feet.
	Come, let us go, and make thy father blind;
	For such a sight will blind a father's eye:
	One hour's storm will drown the fragrant meads;
	What will whole months of tears thy father's eyes?
	Do not draw back, for we will mourn with thee
	O, could our mourning ease thy misery!

	[Exeunt]




	TITUS ANDRONICUS


ACT III



SCENE I	Rome. A street.


	[Enter Judges, Senators and Tribunes, with MARTIUS
	and QUINTUS, bound, passing on to the place of
	execution; TITUS going before, pleading]

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Hear me, grave fathers! noble tribunes, stay!
	For pity of mine age, whose youth was spent
	In dangerous wars, whilst you securely slept;
	For all my blood in Rome's great quarrel shed;
	For all the frosty nights that I have watch'd;
	And for these bitter tears, which now you see
	Filling the aged wrinkles in my cheeks;
	Be pitiful to my condemned sons,
	Whose souls are not corrupted as 'tis thought.
	For two and twenty sons I never wept,
	Because they died in honour's lofty bed.

	[Lieth down; the Judges, &c., pass by him, and Exeunt]

	For these, these, tribunes, in the dust I write
	My heart's deep languor and my soul's sad tears:
	Let my tears stanch the earth's dry appetite;
	My sons' sweet blood will make it shame and blush.
	O earth, I will befriend thee more with rain,
	That shall distil from these two ancient urns,
	Than youthful April shall with all his showers:
	In summer's drought I'll drop upon thee still;
	In winter with warm tears I'll melt the snow
	And keep eternal spring-time on thy face,
	So thou refuse to drink my dear sons' blood.

	[Enter LUCIUS, with his sword drawn]

	O reverend tribunes! O gentle, aged men!
	Unbind my sons, reverse the doom of death;
	And let me say, that never wept before,
	My tears are now prevailing orators.

LUCIUS	O noble father, you lament in vain:
	The tribunes hear you not; no man is by;
	And you recount your sorrows to a stone.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Ah, Lucius, for thy brothers let me plead.
	Grave tribunes, once more I entreat of you,--

LUCIUS	My gracious lord, no tribune hears you speak.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Why, tis no matter, man; if they did hear,
	They would not mark me, or if they did mark,
	They would not pity me, yet plead I must;
	And bootless unto them [                  ]
	Therefore I tell my sorrows to the stones;
	Who, though they cannot answer my distress,
	Yet in some sort they are better than the tribunes,
	For that they will not intercept my tale:
	When I do weep, they humbly at my feet
	Receive my tears and seem to weep with me;
	And, were they but attired in grave weeds,
	Rome could afford no tribune like to these.
	A stone is soft as wax,--tribunes more hard than stones;
	A stone is silent, and offendeth not,
	And tribunes with their tongues doom men to death.

	[Rises]

	But wherefore stand'st thou with thy weapon drawn?

LUCIUS	To rescue my two brothers from their death:
	For which attempt the judges have pronounced
	My everlasting doom of banishment.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	O happy man! they have befriended thee.
	Why, foolish Lucius, dost thou not perceive
	That Rome is but a wilderness of tigers?
	Tigers must prey, and Rome affords no prey
	But me and mine: how happy art thou, then,
	From these devourers to be banished!
	But who comes with our brother Marcus here?

	[Enter MARCUS and LAVINIA]

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	Titus, prepare thy aged eyes to weep;
	Or, if not so, thy noble heart to break:
	I bring consuming sorrow to thine age.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Will it consume me? let me see it, then.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	This was thy daughter.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Why, Marcus, so she is.

LUCIUS	Ay me, this object kills me!

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Faint-hearted boy, arise, and look upon her.
	Speak, Lavinia, what accursed hand
	Hath made thee handless in thy father's sight?
	What fool hath added water to the sea,
	Or brought a faggot to bright-burning Troy?
	My grief was at the height before thou camest,
	And now like Nilus, it disdaineth bounds.
	Give me a sword, I'll chop off my hands too;
	For they have fought for Rome, and all in vain;
	And they have nursed this woe, in feeding life;
	In bootless prayer have they been held up,
	And they have served me to effectless use:
	Now all the service I require of them
	Is that the one will help to cut the other.
	'Tis well, Lavinia, that thou hast no hands;
	For hands, to do Rome service, are but vain.

LUCIUS	Speak, gentle sister, who hath martyr'd thee?

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	O, that delightful engine of her thoughts
	That blabb'd them with such pleasing eloquence,
	Is torn from forth that pretty hollow cage,
	Where, like a sweet melodious bird, it sung
	Sweet varied notes, enchanting every ear!

LUCIUS	O, say thou for her, who hath done this deed?

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	O, thus I found her, straying in the park,
	Seeking to hide herself, as doth the deer
	That hath received some unrecuring wound.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	It was my deer; and he that wounded her
	Hath hurt me more than had he killed me dead:
	For now I stand as one upon a rock
	Environed with a wilderness of sea,
	Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave,
	Expecting ever when some envious surge
	Will in his brinish bowels swallow him.
	This way to death my wretched sons are gone;
	Here stands my other son, a banished man,
	And here my brother, weeping at my woes.
	But that which gives my soul the greatest spurn,
	Is dear Lavinia, dearer than my soul.
	Had I but seen thy picture in this plight,
	It would have madded me: what shall I do
	Now I behold thy lively body so?
	Thou hast no hands, to wipe away thy tears:
	Nor tongue, to tell me who hath martyr'd thee:
	Thy husband he is dead: and for his death
	Thy brothers are condemn'd, and dead by this.
	Look, Marcus! ah, son Lucius, look on her!
	When I did name her brothers, then fresh tears
	Stood on her cheeks, as doth the honey-dew
	Upon a gather'd lily almost wither'd.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	Perchance she weeps because they kill'd her husband;
	Perchance because she knows them innocent.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	If they did kill thy husband, then be joyful
	Because the law hath ta'en revenge on them.
	No, no, they would not do so foul a deed;
	Witness the sorrow that their sister makes.
	Gentle Lavinia, let me kiss thy lips.
	Or make some sign how I may do thee ease:
	Shall thy good uncle, and thy brother Lucius,
	And thou, and I, sit round about some fountain,
	Looking all downwards to behold our cheeks
	How they are stain'd, as meadows, yet not dry,
	With miry slime left on them by a flood?
	And in the fountain shall we gaze so long
	Till the fresh taste be taken from that clearness,
	And made a brine-pit with our bitter tears?
	Or shall we cut away our hands, like thine?
	Or shall we bite our tongues, and in dumb shows
	Pass the remainder of our hateful days?
	What shall we do? let us, that have our tongues,
	Plot some deuce of further misery,
	To make us wonder'd at in time to come.

LUCIUS	Sweet father, cease your tears; for, at your grief,
	See how my wretched sister sobs and weeps.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	Patience, dear niece. Good Titus, dry thine eyes.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Ah, Marcus, Marcus! brother, well I wot
	Thy napkin cannot drink a tear of mine,
	For thou, poor man, hast drown'd it with thine own.

LUCIUS	Ah, my Lavinia, I will wipe thy cheeks.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Mark, Marcus, mark! I understand her signs:
	Had she a tongue to speak, now would she say
	That to her brother which I said to thee:
	His napkin, with his true tears all bewet,
	Can do no service on her sorrowful cheeks.
	O, what a sympathy of woe is this,
	As far from help as Limbo is from bliss!

	[Enter AARON]

AARON	Titus Andronicus, my lord the emperor
	Sends thee this word,--that, if thou love thy sons,
	Let Marcus, Lucius, or thyself, old Titus,
	Or any one of you, chop off your hand,
	And send it to the king: he for the same
	Will send thee hither both thy sons alive;
	And that shall be the ransom for their fault.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	O gracious emperor! O gentle Aaron!
	Did ever raven sing so like a lark,
	That gives sweet tidings of the sun's uprise?
	With all my heart, I'll send the emperor My hand:
	Good Aaron, wilt thou help to chop it off?

LUCIUS	Stay, father! for that noble hand of thine,
	That hath thrown down so many enemies,
	Shall not be sent: my hand will serve the turn:
	My youth can better spare my blood than you;
	And therefore mine shall save my brothers' lives.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	 Which of your hands hath not defended Rome,
	And rear'd aloft the bloody battle-axe,
	Writing destruction on the enemy's castle?
	O, none of both but are of high desert:
	My hand hath been but idle; let it serve
	To ransom my two nephews from their death;
	Then have I kept it to a worthy end.

AARON	Nay, come, agree whose hand shall go along,
	For fear they die before their pardon come.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	My hand shall go.

LUCIUS	                  By heaven, it shall not go!

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Sirs, strive no more: such wither'd herbs as these
	Are meet for plucking up, and therefore mine.

LUCIUS	Sweet father, if I shall be thought thy son,
	Let me redeem my brothers both from death.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	And, for our father's sake and mother's care,
	Now let me show a brother's love to thee.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Agree between you; I will spare my hand.

LUCIUS	Then I'll go fetch an axe.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	But I will use the axe.

	[Exeunt LUCIUS and MARCUS]

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Come hither, Aaron; I'll deceive them both:
	Lend me thy hand, and I will give thee mine.

AARON	[Aside]  If that be call'd deceit, I will be honest,
	And never, whilst I live, deceive men so:
	But I'll deceive you in another sort,
	And that you'll say, ere half an hour pass.

	[Cuts off TITUS's hand]

	[Re-enter LUCIUS and MARCUS]

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Now stay your strife: what shall be is dispatch'd.
	Good Aaron, give his majesty my hand:
	Tell him it was a hand that warded him
	From thousand dangers; bid him bury it
	More hath it merited; that let it have.
	As for my sons, say I account of them
	As jewels purchased at an easy price;
	And yet dear too, because I bought mine own.

AARON	I go, Andronicus: and for thy hand
	Look by and by to have thy sons with thee.

	[Aside]

	Their heads, I mean. O, how this villany
	Doth fat me with the very thoughts of it!
	Let fools do good, and fair men call for grace.
	Aaron will have his soul black like his face.

	[Exit]

TITUS ANDRONICUS	O, here I lift this one hand up to heaven,
	And bow this feeble ruin to the earth:
	If any power pities wretched tears,
	To that I call!

	[To LAVINIA]
	What, wilt thou kneel with me?
	Do, then, dear heart; for heaven shall hear our prayers;
	Or with our sighs we'll breathe the welkin dim,
	And stain the sun with fog, as sometime clouds
	When they do hug him in their melting bosoms.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	O brother, speak with possibilities,
	And do not break into these deep extremes.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Is not my sorrow deep, having no bottom?
	Then be my passions bottomless with them.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	But yet let reason govern thy lament.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	If there were reason for these miseries,
	Then into limits could I bind my woes:
	When heaven doth weep, doth not the earth o'erflow?
	If the winds rage, doth not the sea wax mad,
	Threatening the welkin with his big-swoln face?
	And wilt thou have a reason for this coil?
	I am the sea; hark, how her sighs do blow!
	She is the weeping welkin, I the earth:
	Then must my sea be moved with her sighs;
	Then must my earth with her continual tears
	Become a deluge, overflow'd and drown'd;
	For why my bowels cannot hide her woes,
	But like a drunkard must I vomit them.
	Then give me leave, for losers will have leave
	To ease their stomachs with their bitter tongues.

	[Enter a Messenger, with two heads and a hand]

Messenger	Worthy Andronicus, ill art thou repaid
	For that good hand thou sent'st the emperor.
	Here are the heads of thy two noble sons;
	And here's thy hand, in scorn to thee sent back;
	Thy griefs their sports, thy resolution mock'd;
	That woe is me to think upon thy woes
	More than remembrance of my father's death.

	[Exit]

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	Now let hot AEtna cool in Sicily,
	And be my heart an ever-burning hell!
	These miseries are more than may be borne.
	To weep with them that weep doth ease some deal;
	But sorrow flouted at is double death.

LUCIUS	Ah, that this sight should make so deep a wound,
	And yet detested life not shrink thereat!
	That ever death should let life bear his name,
	Where life hath no more interest but to breathe!

	[LAVINIA kisses TITUS]

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	Alas, poor heart, that kiss is comfortless
	As frozen water to a starved snake.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	When will this fearful slumber have an end?

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	Now, farewell, flattery: die, Andronicus;
	Thou dost not slumber: see, thy two sons' heads,
	Thy warlike hand, thy mangled daughter here:
	Thy other banish'd son, with this dear sight
	Struck pale and bloodless; and thy brother, I,
	Even like a stony image, cold and numb.
	Ah, now no more will I control thy griefs:
	Rend off thy silver hair, thy other hand
	Gnawing with thy teeth; and be this dismal sight
	The closing up of our most wretched eyes;
	Now is a time to storm; why art thou still?

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Ha, ha, ha!

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	Why dost thou laugh? it fits not with this hour.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Why, I have not another tear to shed:
	Besides, this sorrow is an enemy,
	And would usurp upon my watery eyes
	And make them blind with tributary tears:
	Then which way shall I find Revenge's cave?
	For these two heads do seem to speak to me,
	And threat me I shall never come to bliss
	Till all these mischiefs be return'd again
	Even in their throats that have committed them.
	Come, let me see what task I have to do.
	You heavy people, circle me about,
	That I may turn me to each one of you,
	And swear unto my soul to right your wrongs.
	The vow is made. Come, brother, take a head;
	And in this hand the other I will bear.
	Lavinia, thou shalt be employ'd: these arms!
	Bear thou my hand, sweet wench, between thy teeth.
	As for thee, boy, go get thee from my sight;
	Thou art an exile, and thou must not stay:
	Hie to the Goths, and raise an army there:
	And, if you love me, as I think you do,
	Let's kiss and part, for we have much to do.

	[Exeunt TITUS, MARCUS, and LAVINIA]

LUCIUS	Farewell Andronicus, my noble father,
	The wofull'st man that ever lived in Rome:
	Farewell, proud Rome; till Lucius come again,
	He leaves his pledges dearer than his life:
	Farewell, Lavinia, my noble sister;
	O, would thou wert as thou tofore hast been!
	But now nor Lucius nor Lavinia lives
	But in oblivion and hateful griefs.
	If Lucius live, he will requite your wrongs;
	And make proud Saturnine and his empress
	Beg at the gates, like Tarquin and his queen.
	Now will I to the Goths, and raise a power,
	To be revenged on Rome and Saturnine.

	[Exit]




	TITUS ANDRONICUS


ACT III



SCENE II	A room in Titus's house. A banquet set out.


	[Enter TITUS, MARCUS, LAVINIA and Young LUCIUS, a boy]

TITUS ANDRONICUS	So, so; now sit: and look you eat no more
	Than will preserve just so much strength in us
	As will revenge these bitter woes of ours.
	Marcus, unknit that sorrow-wreathen knot:
	Thy niece and I, poor creatures, want our hands,
	And cannot passionate our tenfold grief
	With folded arms. This poor right hand of mine
	Is left to tyrannize upon my breast;
	Who, when my heart, all mad with misery,
	Beats in this hollow prison of my flesh,
	Then thus I thump it down.

	[To LAVINIA]

	Thou map of woe, that thus dost talk in signs!
	When thy poor heart beats with outrageous beating,
	Thou canst not strike it thus to make it still.
	Wound it with sighing, girl, kill it with groans;
	Or get some little knife between thy teeth,
	And just against thy heart make thou a hole;
	That all the tears that thy poor eyes let fall
	May run into that sink, and soaking in
	Drown the lamenting fool in sea-salt tears.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	Fie, brother, fie! teach her not thus to lay
	Such violent hands upon her tender life.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	How now! has sorrow made thee dote already?
	Why, Marcus, no man should be mad but I.
	What violent hands can she lay on her life?
	Ah, wherefore dost thou urge the name of hands;
	To bid AEneas tell the tale twice o'er,
	How Troy was burnt and he made miserable?
	O, handle not the theme, to talk of hands,
	Lest we remember still that we have none.
	Fie, fie, how franticly I square my talk,
	As if we should forget we had no hands,
	If Marcus did not name the word of hands!
	Come, let's fall to; and, gentle girl, eat this:
	Here is no drink! Hark, Marcus, what she says;
	I can interpret all her martyr'd signs;
	She says she drinks no other drink but tears,
	Brew'd with her sorrow, mesh'd upon her cheeks:
	Speechless complainer, I will learn thy thought;
	In thy dumb action will I be as perfect
	As begging hermits in their holy prayers:
	Thou shalt not sigh, nor hold thy stumps to heaven,
	Nor wink, nor nod, nor kneel, nor make a sign,
	But I of these will wrest an alphabet
	And by still practise learn to know thy meaning.

Young LUCIUS	Good grandsire, leave these bitter deep laments:
	Make my aunt merry with some pleasing tale.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	Alas, the tender boy, in passion moved,
	Doth weep to see his grandsire's heaviness.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Peace, tender sapling; thou art made of tears,
	And tears will quickly melt thy life away.

	[MARCUS strikes the dish with a knife]

	What dost thou strike at, Marcus, with thy knife?

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	At that that I have kill'd, my lord; a fly.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Out on thee, murderer! thou kill'st my heart;
	Mine eyes are cloy'd with view of tyranny:
	A deed of death done on the innocent
	Becomes not Titus' brother: get thee gone:
	I see thou art not for my company.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	Alas, my lord, I have but kill'd a fly.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	But how, if that fly had a father and mother?
	How would he hang his slender gilded wings,
	And buzz lamenting doings in the air!
	Poor harmless fly,
	That, with his pretty buzzing melody,
	Came here to make us merry! and thou hast
	kill'd him.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	Pardon me, sir; it was a black ill-favor'd fly,
	Like to the empress' Moor; therefore I kill'd him.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	O, O, O,
	Then pardon me for reprehending thee,
	For thou hast done a charitable deed.
	Give me thy knife, I will insult on him;
	Flattering myself, as if it were the Moor
	Come hither purposely to poison me.--
	There's for thyself, and that's for Tamora.
	Ah, sirrah!
	Yet, I think, we are not brought so low,
	But that between us we can kill a fly
	That comes in likeness of a coal-black Moor.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	Alas, poor man! grief has so wrought on him,
	He takes false shadows for true substances.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Come, take away. Lavinia, go with me:
	I'll to thy closet; and go read with thee
	Sad stories chanced in the times of old.
	Come, boy, and go with me: thy sight is young,
	And thou shalt read when mine begin to dazzle.

	[Exeunt]




	TITUS ANDRONICUS


ACT IV



SCENE I	Rome. Titus's garden.


	[Enter young LUCIUS, and LAVINIA running after him,
	and the boy flies from her, with books under his
	arm. Then enter TITUS and MARCUS]

Young LUCIUS	Help, grandsire, help! my aunt Lavinia
	Follows me every where, I know not why:
	Good uncle Marcus, see how swift she comes.
	Alas, sweet aunt, I know not what you mean.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	Stand by me, Lucius; do not fear thine aunt.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	She loves thee, boy, too well to do thee harm.

Young LUCIUS	Ay, when my father was in Rome she did.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	What means my niece Lavinia by these signs?

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Fear her not, Lucius: somewhat doth she mean:
	See, Lucius, see how much she makes of thee:
	Somewhither would she have thee go with her.
	Ah, boy, Cornelia never with more care
	Read to her sons than she hath read to thee
	Sweet poetry and Tully's Orator.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	Canst thou not guess wherefore she plies thee thus?

Young LUCIUS	My lord, I know not, I, nor can I guess,
	Unless some fit or frenzy do possess her:
	For I have heard my grandsire say full oft,
	Extremity of griefs would make men mad;
	And I have read that Hecuba of Troy
	Ran mad through sorrow: that made me to fear;
	Although, my lord, I know my noble aunt
	Loves me as dear as e'er my mother did,
	And would not, but in fury, fright my youth:
	Which made me down to throw my books, and fly--
	Causeless, perhaps. But pardon me, sweet aunt:
	And, madam, if my uncle Marcus go,
	I will most willingly attend your ladyship.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	Lucius, I will.

	[LAVINIA turns over with her stumps the books which
	LUCIUS has let fall]

TITUS ANDRONICUS	How now, Lavinia! Marcus, what means this?
	Some book there is that she desires to see.
	Which is it, girl, of these? Open them, boy.
	But thou art deeper read, and better skill'd
	Come, and take choice of all my library,
	And so beguile thy sorrow, till the heavens
	Reveal the damn'd contriver of this deed.
	Why lifts she up her arms in sequence thus?

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	I think she means that there was more than one
	Confederate in the fact: ay, more there was;
	Or else to heaven she heaves them for revenge.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Lucius, what book is that she tosseth so?

Young LUCIUS	Grandsire, 'tis Ovid's Metamorphoses;
	My mother gave it me.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	For love of her that's gone,
	Perhaps she cull'd it from among the rest.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Soft! see how busily she turns the leaves!

	[Helping her]

	What would she find? Lavinia, shall I read?
	This is the tragic tale of Philomel,
	And treats of Tereus' treason and his rape:
	And rape, I fear, was root of thine annoy.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	See, brother, see; note how she quotes the leaves.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Lavinia, wert thou thus surprised, sweet girl,
	Ravish'd and wrong'd, as Philomela was,
	Forced in the ruthless, vast, and gloomy woods? See, see!
	Ay, such a place there is, where we did hunt--
	O, had we never, never hunted there!--
	Pattern'd by that the poet here describes,
	By nature made for murders and for rapes.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	O, why should nature build so foul a den,
	Unless the gods delight in tragedies?

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Give signs, sweet girl, for here are none
	but friends,
	What Roman lord it was durst do the deed:
	Or slunk not Saturnine, as Tarquin erst,
	That left the camp to sin in Lucrece' bed?

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	Sit down, sweet niece: brother, sit down by me.
	Apollo, Pallas, Jove, or Mercury,
	Inspire me, that I may this treason find!
	My lord, look here: look here, Lavinia:
	This sandy plot is plain; guide, if thou canst
	This after me, when I have writ my name
	Without the help of any hand at all.

	[He writes his name with his staff, and guides it
	with feet and mouth]

	Cursed be that heart that forced us to this shift!
	Write thou good niece; and here display, at last,
	What God will have discover'd for revenge;
	Heaven guide thy pen to print thy sorrows plain,
	That we may know the traitors and the truth!

	[She takes the staff in her mouth, and guides it
	with her stumps, and writes]

TITUS ANDRONICUS	O, do ye read, my lord, what she hath writ?
	'Stuprum. Chiron. Demetrius.'

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	What, what! the lustful sons of Tamora
	Performers of this heinous, bloody deed?

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Magni Dominator poli,
	Tam lentus audis scelera? tam lentus vides?

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	O, calm thee, gentle lord; although I know
	There is enough written upon this earth
	To stir a mutiny in the mildest thoughts
	And arm the minds of infants to exclaims.
	My lord, kneel down with me; Lavinia, kneel;
	And kneel, sweet boy, the Roman Hector's hope;
	And swear with me, as, with the woful fere
	And father of that chaste dishonour'd dame,
	Lord Junius Brutus sware for Lucrece' rape,
	That we will prosecute by good advice
	Mortal revenge upon these traitorous Goths,
	And see their blood, or die with this reproach.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	'Tis sure enough, an you knew how.
	But if you hunt these bear-whelps, then beware:
	The dam will wake; and, if she wind you once,
	She's with the lion deeply still in league,
	And lulls him whilst she playeth on her back,
	And when he sleeps will she do what she list.
	You are a young huntsman, Marcus; let it alone;
	And, come, I will go get a leaf of brass,
	And with a gad of steel will write these words,
	And lay it by: the angry northern wind
	Will blow these sands, like Sibyl's leaves, abroad,
	And where's your lesson, then? Boy, what say you?

Young LUCIUS	I say, my lord, that if I were a man,
	Their mother's bed-chamber should not be safe
	For these bad bondmen to the yoke of Rome.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	Ay, that's my boy! thy father hath full oft
	For his ungrateful country done the like.

Young LUCIUS	And, uncle, so will I, an if I live.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Come, go with me into mine armoury;
	Lucius, I'll fit thee; and withal, my boy,
	Shalt carry from me to the empress' sons
	Presents that I intend to send them both:
	Come, come; thou'lt do thy message, wilt thou not?

Young LUCIUS	Ay, with my dagger in their bosoms, grandsire.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	No, boy, not so; I'll teach thee another course.
	Lavinia, come. Marcus, look to my house:
	Lucius and I'll go brave it at the court:
	Ay, marry, will we, sir; and we'll be waited on.

	[Exeunt TITUS, LAVINIA, and Young LUCIUS]

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	O heavens, can you hear a good man groan,
	And not relent, or not compassion him?
	Marcus, attend him in his ecstasy,
	That hath more scars of sorrow in his heart
	Than foemen's marks upon his batter'd shield;
	But yet so just that he will not revenge.
	Revenge, ye heavens, for old Andronicus!

	[Exit]




	TITUS ANDRONICUS


ACT IV



SCENE II	The same. A room in the palace.


	[Enter, from one side, AARON, DEMETRIUS, and
	CHIRON; from the other side, Young LUCIUS, and an
	Attendant, with a bundle of weapons, and verses
	writ upon them]

CHIRON	Demetrius, here's the son of Lucius;
	He hath some message to deliver us.

AARON	Ay, some mad message from his mad grandfather.

Young LUCIUS	My lords, with all the humbleness I may,
	I greet your honours from Andronicus.

	[Aside]

	And pray the Roman gods confound you both!

DEMETRIUS	Gramercy, lovely Lucius: what's the news?

Young LUCIUS	[Aside]  That you are both decipher'd, that's the news,
	For villains mark'd with rape.--May it please you,
	My grandsire, well advised, hath sent by me
	The goodliest weapons of his armoury
	To gratify your honourable youth,
	The hope of Rome; for so he bade me say;
	And so I do, and with his gifts present
	Your lordships, that, whenever you have need,
	You may be armed and appointed well:
	And so I leave you both:

	[Aside]
		   like bloody villains.

	[Exeunt Young LUCIUS, and Attendant]

DEMETRIUS	What's here? A scroll; and written round about?
	Let's see;

	[Reads]

	'Integer vitae, scelerisque purus,
	Non eget Mauri jaculis, nec arcu.'

CHIRON	O, 'tis a verse in Horace; I know it well:
	I read it in the grammar long ago.

AARON	Ay, just; a verse in Horace; right, you have it.

	[Aside]

	Now, what a thing it is to be an ass!
	Here's no sound jest! the old man hath found their guilt;
	And sends them weapons wrapped about with lines,
	That wound, beyond their feeling, to the quick.
	But were our witty empress well afoot,
	She would applaud Andronicus' conceit:
	But let her rest in her unrest awhile.

	And now, young lords, was't not a happy star
	Led us to Rome, strangers, and more than so,
	Captives, to be advanced to this height?
	It did me good, before the palace gate
	To brave the tribune in his brother's hearing.

DEMETRIUS	But me more good, to see so great a lord
	Basely insinuate and send us gifts.

AARON	Had he not reason, Lord Demetrius?
	Did you not use his daughter very friendly?

DEMETRIUS	I would we had a thousand Roman dames
	At such a bay, by turn to serve our lust.

CHIRON	A charitable wish and full of love.

AARON	Here lacks but your mother for to say amen.

CHIRON	And that would she for twenty thousand more.

DEMETRIUS	Come, let us go; and pray to all the gods
	For our beloved mother in her pains.

AARON	[Aside]  Pray to the devils; the gods have given us over.

	[Trumpets sound within]

DEMETRIUS	Why do the emperor's trumpets flourish thus?

CHIRON	Belike, for joy the emperor hath a son.

DEMETRIUS	Soft! who comes here?

	[Enter a Nurse, with a blackamoor Child in her arms]

Nurse	Good morrow, lords:
	O, tell me, did you see Aaron the Moor?

AARON	Well, more or less, or ne'er a whit at all,
	Here Aaron is; and what with Aaron now?

Nurse	O gentle Aaron, we are all undone!
	Now help, or woe betide thee evermore!

AARON	Why, what a caterwauling dost thou keep!
	What dost thou wrap and fumble in thine arms?

Nurse	O, that which I would hide from heaven's eye,
	Our empress' shame, and stately Rome's disgrace!
	She is deliver'd, lords; she is deliver'd.

AARON	To whom?

Nurse	       I mean, she is brought a-bed.

AARON	Well, God give her good rest! What hath he sent her?

Nurse	A devil.

AARON	Why, then she is the devil's dam; a joyful issue.

Nurse	A joyless, dismal, black, and sorrowful issue:
	Here is the babe, as loathsome as a toad
	Amongst the fairest breeders of our clime:
	The empress sends it thee, thy stamp, thy seal,
	And bids thee christen it with thy dagger's point.

AARON	'Zounds, ye whore! is black so base a hue?
	Sweet blowse, you are a beauteous blossom, sure.

DEMETRIUS	Villain, what hast thou done?

AARON	That which thou canst not undo.

CHIRON	Thou hast undone our mother.

AARON	Villain, I have done thy mother.

DEMETRIUS	And therein, hellish dog, thou hast undone.
	Woe to her chance, and damn'd her loathed choice!
	Accursed the offspring of so foul a fiend!

CHIRON	It shall not live.

AARON	It shall not die.

Nurse	Aaron, it must; the mother wills it so.

AARON	What, must it, nurse? then let no man but I
	Do execution on my flesh and blood.

DEMETRIUS	I'll broach the tadpole on my rapier's point:
	Nurse, give it me; my sword shall soon dispatch it.

AARON	Sooner this sword shall plough thy bowels up.

	[Takes the Child from the Nurse, and draws]

	Stay, murderous villains! will you kill your brother?
	Now, by the burning tapers of the sky,
	That shone so brightly when this boy was got,
	He dies upon my scimitar's sharp point
	That touches this my first-born son and heir!
	I tell you, younglings, not Enceladus,
	With all his threatening band of Typhon's brood,
	Nor great Alcides, nor the god of war,
	Shall seize this prey out of his father's hands.
	What, what, ye sanguine, shallow-hearted boys!
	Ye white-limed walls! ye alehouse painted signs!
	Coal-black is better than another hue,
	In that it scorns to bear another hue;
	For all the water in the ocean
	Can never turn the swan's black legs to white,
	Although she lave them hourly in the flood.
	Tell the empress from me, I am of age
	To keep mine own, excuse it how she can.

DEMETRIUS	Wilt thou betray thy noble mistress thus?

AARON	My mistress is my mistress; this myself,
	The vigour and the picture of my youth:
	This before all the world do I prefer;
	This maugre all the world will I keep safe,
	Or some of you shall smoke for it in Rome.

DEMETRIUS	By this our mother is forever shamed.

CHIRON	Rome will despise her for this foul escape.

Nurse	The emperor, in his rage, will doom her death.

CHIRON	I blush to think upon this ignomy.

AARON	Why, there's the privilege your beauty bears:
	Fie, treacherous hue, that will betray with blushing
	The close enacts and counsels of the heart!
	Here's a young lad framed of another leer:
	Look, how the black slave smiles upon the father,
	As who should say 'Old lad, I am thine own.'
	He is your brother, lords, sensibly fed
	Of that self-blood that first gave life to you,
	And from that womb where you imprison'd were
	He is enfranchised and come to light:
	Nay, he is your brother by the surer side,
	Although my seal be stamped in his face.

Nurse	Aaron, what shall I say unto the empress?

DEMETRIUS	Advise thee, Aaron, what is to be done,
	And we will all subscribe to thy advice:
	Save thou the child, so we may all be safe.

AARON	Then sit we down, and let us all consult.
	My son and I will have the wind of you:
	Keep there: now talk at pleasure of your safety.

	[They sit]

DEMETRIUS	How many women saw this child of his?

AARON	Why, so, brave lords! when we join in league,
	I am a lamb: but if you brave the Moor,
	The chafed boar, the mountain lioness,
	The ocean swells not so as Aaron storms.
	But say, again; how many saw the child?

Nurse	Cornelia the midwife and myself;
	And no one else but the deliver'd empress.

AARON	The empress, the midwife, and yourself:
	Two may keep counsel when the third's away:
	Go to the empress, tell her this I said.

	[He kills the nurse]

	Weke, weke! so cries a pig prepared to the spit.

DEMETRIUS	What mean'st thou, Aaron? wherefore didst thou this?

AARON	O Lord, sir, 'tis a deed of policy:
	Shall she live to betray this guilt of ours,
	A long-tongued babbling gossip? no, lords, no:
	And now be it known to you my full intent.
	Not far, one Muli lives, my countryman;
	His wife but yesternight was brought to bed;
	His child is like to her, fair as you are:
	Go pack with him, and give the mother gold,
	And tell them both the circumstance of all;
	And how by this their child shall be advanced,
	And be received for the emperor's heir,
	And substituted in the place of mine,
	To calm this tempest whirling in the court;
	And let the emperor dandle him for his own.
	Hark ye, lords; ye see I have given her physic,

	[Pointing to the nurse]

	And you must needs bestow her funeral;
	The fields are near, and you are gallant grooms:
	This done, see that you take no longer days,
	But send the midwife presently to me.
	The midwife and the nurse well made away,
	Then let the ladies tattle what they please.

CHIRON	Aaron, I see thou wilt not trust the air
	With secrets.

DEMETRIUS	                  For this care of Tamora,
	Herself and hers are highly bound to thee.

	[Exeunt DEMETRIUS and CHIRON bearing off the
	Nurse's body]

AARON	Now to the Goths, as swift as swallow flies;
	There to dispose this treasure in mine arms,
	And secretly to greet the empress' friends.
	Come on, you thick lipp'd slave, I'll bear you hence;
	For it is you that puts us to our shifts:
	I'll make you feed on berries and on roots,
	And feed on curds and whey, and suck the goat,
	And cabin in a cave, and bring you up
	To be a warrior, and command a camp.

	[Exit]




	TITUS ANDRONICUS


ACT IV



SCENE III	The same. A public place.


	[Enter TITUS, bearing arrows with letters at the
	ends of them; with him, MARCUS, Young LUCIUS,
	PUBLIUS, SEMPRONIUS, CAIUS, and other Gentlemen,
	with bows]

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Come, Marcus; come, kinsmen; this is the way.
	Sir boy, now let me see your archery;
	Look ye draw home enough, and 'tis there straight.
	Terras Astraea reliquit:
	Be you remember'd, Marcus, she's gone, she's fled.
	Sirs, take you to your tools. You, cousins, shall
	Go sound the ocean, and cast your nets;
	Happily you may catch her in the sea;
	Yet there's as little justice as at land:
	No; Publius and Sempronius, you must do it;
	'Tis you must dig with mattock and with spade,
	And pierce the inmost centre of the earth:
	Then, when you come to Pluto's region,
	I pray you, deliver him this petition;
	Tell him, it is for justice and for aid,
	And that it comes from old Andronicus,
	Shaken with sorrows in ungrateful Rome.
	Ah, Rome! Well, well; I made thee miserable
	What time I threw the people's suffrages
	On him that thus doth tyrannize o'er me.
	Go, get you gone; and pray be careful all,
	And leave you not a man-of-war unsearch'd:
	This wicked emperor may have shipp'd her hence;
	And, kinsmen, then we may go pipe for justice.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	O Publius, is not this a heavy case,
	To see thy noble uncle thus distract?

PUBLIUS	Therefore, my lord, it highly us concerns
	By day and night to attend him carefully,
	And feed his humour kindly as we may,
	Till time beget some careful remedy.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	Kinsmen, his sorrows are past remedy.
	Join with the Goths; and with revengeful war
	Take wreak on Rome for this ingratitude,
	And vengeance on the traitor Saturnine.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Publius, how now! how now, my masters!
	What, have you met with her?

PUBLIUS	No, my good lord; but Pluto sends you word,
	If you will have Revenge from hell, you shall:
	Marry, for Justice, she is so employ'd,
	He thinks, with Jove in heaven, or somewhere else,
	So that perforce you must needs stay a time.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	He doth me wrong to feed me with delays.
	I'll dive into the burning lake below,
	And pull her out of Acheron by the heels.
	Marcus, we are but shrubs, no cedars we
	No big-boned men framed of the Cyclops' size;
	But metal, Marcus, steel to the very back,
	Yet wrung with wrongs more than our backs can bear:
	And, sith there's no justice in earth nor hell,
	We will solicit heaven and move the gods
	To send down Justice for to wreak our wrongs.
	Come, to this gear. You are a good archer, Marcus;

	[He gives them the arrows]

	'Ad Jovem,' that's for you: here, 'Ad Apollinem:'
	'Ad Martem,' that's for myself:
	Here, boy, to Pallas: here, to Mercury:
	To Saturn, Caius, not to Saturnine;
	You were as good to shoot against the wind.
	To it, boy! Marcus, loose when I bid.
	Of my word, I have written to effect;
	There's not a god left unsolicited.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	Kinsmen, shoot all your shafts into the court:
	We will afflict the emperor in his pride.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Now, masters, draw.

	[They shoot]
		O, well said, Lucius!
	Good boy, in Virgo's lap; give it Pallas.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	My lord, I aim a mile beyond the moon;
	Your letter is with Jupiter by this.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Ha, ha!
	Publius, Publius, what hast thou done?
	See, see, thou hast shot off one of Taurus' horns.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	This was the sport, my lord: when Publius shot,
	The Bull, being gall'd, gave Aries such a knock
	That down fell both the Ram's horns in the court;
	And who should find them but the empress' villain?
	She laugh'd, and told the Moor he should not choose
	But give them to his master for a present.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Why, there it goes: God give his lordship joy!

	[Enter a Clown, with a basket, and two pigeons in
	it]

	News, news from heaven! Marcus, the post is come.
	Sirrah, what tidings? have you any letters?
	Shall I have justice? what says Jupiter?

Clown	O, the gibbet-maker! he says that he hath taken
	them down again, for the man must not be hanged till
	the next week.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	But what says Jupiter, I ask thee?

Clown	Alas, sir, I know not Jupiter; I never drank with him
	in all my life.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Why, villain, art not thou the carrier?

Clown	Ay, of my pigeons, sir; nothing else.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Why, didst thou not come from heaven?

Clown	From heaven! alas, sir, I never came there     God
	forbid I should be so bold to press to heaven in my
	young days. Why, I am going with my pigeons to the
	tribunal plebs, to take up a matter of brawl
	betwixt my uncle and one of the emperial's men.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	Why, sir, that is as fit as can be to serve for
	your oration; and let him deliver the pigeons to
	the emperor from you.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Tell me, can you deliver an oration to the emperor
	with a grace?

Clown	Nay, truly, sir, I could never say grace in all my life.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Sirrah, come hither: make no more ado,
	But give your pigeons to the emperor:
	By me thou shalt have justice at his hands.
	Hold, hold; meanwhile here's money for thy charges.
	Give me pen and ink. Sirrah, can you with a grace
	deliver a supplication?

Clown	Ay, sir.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Then here is a supplication for you. And when you
	come to him, at the first approach you must kneel,
	then kiss his foot, then deliver up your pigeons, and
	then look for your reward. I'll be at hand, sir; see
	you do it bravely.

Clown	I warrant you, sir, let me alone.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Sirrah, hast thou a knife? come, let me see it.
	Here, Marcus, fold it in the oration;
	For thou hast made it like an humble suppliant.
	And when thou hast given it the emperor,
	Knock at my door, and tell me what he says.

Clown	God be with you, sir; I will.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Come, Marcus, let us go. Publius, follow me.

	[Exeunt]




	TITUS ANDRONICUS


ACT IV



SCENE IV	The same. Before the palace.


	[Enter SATURNINUS, TAMORA, DEMETRIUS, CHIRON,
	Lords, and others; SATURNINUS with the arrows in
	his hand that TITUS shot]

SATURNINUS	Why, lords, what wrongs are these! was ever seen
	An emperor in Rome thus overborne,
	Troubled, confronted thus; and, for the extent
	Of egal justice, used in such contempt?
	My lords, you know, as know the mightful gods,
	However these disturbers of our peace
	Buz in the people's ears, there nought hath pass'd,
	But even with law, against the willful sons
	Of old Andronicus. And what an if
	His sorrows have so overwhelm'd his wits,
	Shall we be thus afflicted in his wreaks,
	His fits, his frenzy, and his bitterness?
	And now he writes to heaven for his redress:
	See, here's to Jove, and this to Mercury;
	This to Apollo; this to the god of war;
	Sweet scrolls to fly about the streets of Rome!
	What's this but libelling against the senate,
	And blazoning our injustice every where?
	A goodly humour, is it not, my lords?
	As who would say, in Rome no justice were.
	But if I live, his feigned ecstasies
	Shall be no shelter to these outrages:
	But he and his shall know that justice lives
	In Saturninus' health, whom, if she sleep,
	He'll so awake as she in fury shall
	Cut off the proud'st conspirator that lives.

TAMORA	My gracious lord, my lovely Saturnine,
	Lord of my life, commander of my thoughts,
	Calm thee, and bear the faults of Titus' age,
	The effects of sorrow for his valiant sons,
	Whose loss hath pierced him deep and scarr'd his heart;
	And rather comfort his distressed plight
	Than prosecute the meanest or the best
	For these contempts.

	[Aside]

		Why, thus it shall become
	High-witted Tamora to gloze with all:
	But, Titus, I have touched thee to the quick,
	Thy life-blood out: if Aaron now be wise,
	Then is all safe, the anchor's in the port.

	[Enter Clown]

	How now, good fellow! wouldst thou speak with us?

Clown	Yea, forsooth, an your mistership be emperial.

TAMORA	Empress I am, but yonder sits the emperor.

Clown	'Tis he. God and Saint Stephen give you good den:
	I have brought you a letter and a couple of pigeons here.

	[SATURNINUS reads the letter]

SATURNINUS	Go, take him away, and hang him presently.

Clown	How much money must I have?

TAMORA	Come, sirrah, you must be hanged.

Clown	Hanged! by'r lady, then I have brought up a neck to
	a fair end.

	[Exit, guarded]

SATURNINUS	Despiteful and intolerable wrongs!
	Shall I endure this monstrous villany?
	I know from whence this same device proceeds:
	May this be borne?--as if his traitorous sons,
	That died by law for murder of our brother,
	Have by my means been butcher'd wrongfully!
	Go, drag the villain hither by the hair;
	Nor age nor honour shall shape privilege:
	For this proud mock I'll be thy slaughterman;
	Sly frantic wretch, that holp'st to make me great,
	In hope thyself should govern Rome and me.

	[Enter AEMILIUS]

	What news with thee, AEmilius?

AEMILIUS	Arm, arm, my lord;--Rome never had more cause.
	The Goths have gather'd head; and with a power
	high-resolved men, bent to the spoil,
	They hither march amain, under conduct
	Of Lucius, son to old Andronicus;
	Who threats, in course of this revenge, to do
	As much as ever Coriolanus did.

SATURNINUS	Is warlike Lucius general of the Goths?
	These tidings nip me, and I hang the head
	As flowers with frost or grass beat down with storms:
	Ay, now begin our sorrows to approach:
	'Tis he the common people love so much;
	Myself hath often over-heard them say,
	When I have walked like a private man,
	That Lucius' banishment was wrongfully,
	And they have wish'd that Lucius were their emperor.

TAMORA	Why should you fear? is not your city strong?

SATURNINUS	Ay, but the citizens favor Lucius,
	And will revolt from me to succor him.

TAMORA	King, be thy thoughts imperious, like thy name.
	Is the sun dimm'd, that gnats do fly in it?
	The eagle suffers little birds to sing,
	And is not careful what they mean thereby,
	Knowing that with the shadow of his wings
	He can at pleasure stint their melody:
	Even so mayst thou the giddy men of Rome.
	Then cheer thy spirit : for know, thou emperor,
	I will enchant the old Andronicus
	With words more sweet, and yet more dangerous,
	Than baits to fish, or honey-stalks to sheep,
	When as the one is wounded with the bait,
	The other rotted with delicious feed.

SATURNINUS	But he will not entreat his son for us.

TAMORA	If Tamora entreat him, then he will:
	For I can smooth and fill his aged ear
	With golden promises; that, were his heart
	Almost impregnable, his old ears deaf,
	Yet should both ear and heart obey my tongue.

	[To AEmilius]

	Go thou before, be our ambassador:
	Say that the emperor requests a parley
	Of warlike Lucius, and appoint the meeting
	Even at his father's house, the old Andronicus.

SATURNINUS	AEmilius, do this message honourably:
	And if he stand on hostage for his safety,
	Bid him demand what pledge will please him best.

AEMILIUS	Your bidding shall I do effectually.

	[Exit]

TAMORA	Now will I to that old Andronicus;
	And temper him with all the art I have,
	To pluck proud Lucius from the warlike Goths.
	And now, sweet emperor, be blithe again,
	And bury all thy fear in my devices.

SATURNINUS	Then go successantly, and plead to him.

	[Exeunt]




	TITUS ANDRONICUS


ACT V



SCENE I	Plains near Rome.


	[Enter LUCIUS with an army of Goths, with drum and colours]

LUCIUS	Approved warriors, and my faithful friends,
	I have received letters from great Rome,
	Which signify what hate they bear their emperor
	And how desirous of our sight they are.
	Therefore, great lords, be, as your titles witness,
	Imperious and impatient of your wrongs,
	And wherein Rome hath done you any scath,
	Let him make treble satisfaction.

First Goth	Brave slip, sprung from the great Andronicus,
	Whose name was once our terror, now our comfort;
	Whose high exploits and honourable deeds
	Ingrateful Rome requites with foul contempt,
	Be bold in us: we'll follow where thou lead'st,
	Like stinging bees in hottest summer's day
	Led by their master to the flowered fields,
	And be avenged on cursed Tamora.

All the Goths	And as he saith, so say we all with him.

LUCIUS	I humbly thank him, and I thank you all.
	But who comes here, led by a lusty Goth?

	[Enter a Goth, leading AARON with his Child in his arms]

Second Goth	Renowned Lucius, from our troops I stray'd
	To gaze upon a ruinous monastery;
	And, as I earnestly did fix mine eye
	Upon the wasted building, suddenly
	I heard a child cry underneath a wall.
	I made unto the noise; when soon I heard
	The crying babe controll'd with this discourse:
	'Peace, tawny slave, half me and half thy dam!
	Did not thy hue bewray whose brat thou art,
	Had nature lent thee but thy mother's look,
	Villain, thou mightst have been an emperor:
	But where the bull and cow are both milk-white,
	They never do beget a coal-black calf.
	Peace, villain, peace!'--even thus he rates
	the babe,--
	'For I must bear thee to a trusty Goth;
	Who, when he knows thou art the empress' babe,
	Will hold thee dearly for thy mother's sake.'
	With this, my weapon drawn, I rush'd upon him,
	Surprised him suddenly, and brought him hither,
	To use as you think needful of the man.

LUCIUS	O worthy Goth, this is the incarnate devil
	That robb'd Andronicus of his good hand;
	This is the pearl that pleased your empress' eye,
	And here's the base fruit of his burning lust.
	Say, wall-eyed slave, whither wouldst thou convey
	This growing image of thy fiend-like face?
	Why dost not speak? what, deaf? not a word?
	A halter, soldiers! hang him on this tree.
	And by his side his fruit of bastardy.

AARON	Touch not the boy; he is of royal blood.

LUCIUS	Too like the sire for ever being good.
	First hang the child, that he may see it sprawl;
	A sight to vex the father's soul withal.
	Get me a ladder.

	[A ladder brought, which AARON is made to ascend]

AARON	                  Lucius, save the child,
	And bear it from me to the empress.
	If thou do this, I'll show thee wondrous things,
	That highly may advantage thee to hear:
	If thou wilt not, befall what may befall,
	I'll speak no more but 'Vengeance rot you all!'

LUCIUS	Say on: an if it please me which thou speak'st
	Thy child shall live, and I will see it nourish'd.

AARON	An if it please thee! why, assure thee, Lucius,
	'Twill vex thy soul to hear what I shall speak;
	For I must talk of murders, rapes and massacres,
	Acts of black night, abominable deeds,
	Complots of mischief, treason, villanies
	Ruthful to hear, yet piteously perform'd:
	And this shall all be buried by my death,
	Unless thou swear to me my child shall live.

LUCIUS	Tell on thy mind; I say thy child shall live.

AARON	Swear that he shall, and then I will begin.

LUCIUS	Who should I swear by? thou believest no god:
	That granted, how canst thou believe an oath?

AARON	What if I do not? as, indeed, I do not;
	Yet, for I know thou art religious
	And hast a thing within thee called conscience,
	With twenty popish tricks and ceremonies,
	Which I have seen thee careful to observe,
	Therefore I urge thy oath; for that I know
	An idiot holds his bauble for a god
	And keeps the oath which by that god he swears,
	To that I'll urge him: therefore thou shalt vow
	By that same god, what god soe'er it be,
	That thou adorest and hast in reverence,
	To save my boy, to nourish and bring him up;
	Or else I will discover nought to thee.

LUCIUS	Even by my god I swear to thee I will.

AARON	First know thou, I begot him on the empress.

LUCIUS	O most insatiate and luxurious woman!

AARON	Tut, Lucius, this was but a deed of charity
	To that which thou shalt hear of me anon.
	'Twas her two sons that murder'd Bassianus;
	They cut thy sister's tongue and ravish'd her
	And cut her hands and trimm'd her as thou saw'st.

LUCIUS	O detestable villain! call'st thou that trimming?

AARON	Why, she was wash'd and cut and trimm'd, and 'twas
	Trim sport for them that had the doing of it.

LUCIUS	O barbarous, beastly villains, like thyself!

AARON	Indeed, I was their tutor to instruct them:
	That codding spirit had they from their mother,
	As sure a card as ever won the set;
	That bloody mind, I think, they learn'd of me,
	As true a dog as ever fought at head.
	Well, let my deeds be witness of my worth.
	I train'd thy brethren to that guileful hole
	Where the dead corpse of Bassianus lay:
	I wrote the letter that thy father found
	And hid the gold within the letter mention'd,
	Confederate with the queen and her two sons:
	And what not done, that thou hast cause to rue,
	Wherein I had no stroke of mischief in it?
	I play'd the cheater for thy father's hand,
	And, when I had it, drew myself apart
	And almost broke my heart with extreme laughter:
	I pry'd me through the crevice of a wall
	When, for his hand, he had his two sons' heads;
	Beheld his tears, and laugh'd so heartily,
	That both mine eyes were rainy like to his :
	And when I told the empress of this sport,
	She swooned almost at my pleasing tale,
	And for my tidings gave me twenty kisses.

First Goth	What, canst thou say all this, and never blush?

AARON	Ay, like a black dog, as the saying is.

LUCIUS	Art thou not sorry for these heinous deeds?

AARON	Ay, that I had not done a thousand more.
	Even now I curse the day--and yet, I think,
	Few come within the compass of my curse,--
	Wherein I did not some notorious ill,
	As kill a man, or else devise his death,
	Ravish a maid, or plot the way to do it,
	Accuse some innocent and forswear myself,
	Set deadly enmity between two friends,
	Make poor men's cattle break their necks;
	Set fire on barns and hay-stacks in the night,
	And bid the owners quench them with their tears.
	Oft have I digg'd up dead men from their graves,
	And set them upright at their dear friends' doors,
	Even when their sorrows almost were forgot;
	And on their skins, as on the bark of trees,
	Have with my knife carved in Roman letters,
	'Let not your sorrow die, though I am dead.'
	Tut, I have done a thousand dreadful things
	As willingly as one would kill a fly,
	And nothing grieves me heartily indeed
	But that I cannot do ten thousand more.

LUCIUS	Bring down the devil; for he must not die
	So sweet a death as hanging presently.

AARON	If there be devils, would I were a devil,
	To live and burn in everlasting fire,
	So I might have your company in hell,
	But to torment you with my bitter tongue!

LUCIUS	Sirs, stop his mouth, and let him speak no more.

	[Enter a Goth]

Third Goth	My lord, there is a messenger from Rome
	Desires to be admitted to your presence.

LUCIUS	Let him come near.

	[Enter AEMILIUS]

	Welcome, AEmilius	what's the news from Rome?

AEMILIUS	Lord Lucius, and you princes of the Goths,
	The Roman emperor greets you all by me;
	And, for he understands you are in arms,
	He craves a parley at your father's house,
	Willing you to demand your hostages,
	And they shall be immediately deliver'd.

First Goth	What says our general?

LUCIUS	AEmilius, let the emperor give his pledges
	Unto my father and my uncle Marcus,
	And we will come. March away.

	[Exeunt]




	TITUS ANDRONICUS


ACT V



SCENE II	Rome. Before TITUS's house.


	[Enter TAMORA, DEMETRIUS, and CHIRON, disguised]

TAMORA	Thus, in this strange and sad habiliment,
	I will encounter with Andronicus,
	And say I am Revenge, sent from below
	To join with him and right his heinous wrongs.
	Knock at his study, where, they say, he keeps,
	To ruminate strange plots of dire revenge;
	Tell him Revenge is come to join with him,
	And work confusion on his enemies.

	[They knock]

	[Enter TITUS, above]

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Who doth molest my contemplation?
	Is it your trick to make me ope the door,
	That so my sad decrees may fly away,
	And all my study be to no effect?
	You are deceived: for what I mean to do
	See here in bloody lines I have set down;
	And what is written shall be executed.

TAMORA	Titus, I am come to talk with thee.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	No, not a word; how can I grace my talk,
	Wanting a hand to give it action?
	Thou hast the odds of me; therefore no more.

TAMORA	If thou didst know me, thou wouldest talk with me.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	I am not mad; I know thee well enough:
	Witness this wretched stump, witness these crimson lines;
	Witness these trenches made by grief and care,
	Witness the tiring day and heavy night;
	Witness all sorrow, that I know thee well
	For our proud empress, mighty Tamora:
	Is not thy coming for my other hand?

TAMORA	Know, thou sad man, I am not Tamora;
	She is thy enemy, and I thy friend:
	I am Revenge: sent from the infernal kingdom,
	To ease the gnawing vulture of thy mind,
	By working wreakful vengeance on thy foes.
	Come down, and welcome me to this world's light;
	Confer with me of murder and of death:
	There's not a hollow cave or lurking-place,
	No vast obscurity or misty vale,
	Where bloody murder or detested rape
	Can couch for fear, but I will find them out;
	And in their ears tell them my dreadful name,
	Revenge, which makes the foul offender quake.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Art thou Revenge? and art thou sent to me,
	To be a torment to mine enemies?

TAMORA	I am; therefore come down, and welcome me.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Do me some service, ere I come to thee.
	Lo, by thy side where Rape and Murder stands;
	Now give me some surance that thou art Revenge,
	Stab them, or tear them on thy chariot-wheels;
	And then I'll come and be thy waggoner,
	And whirl along with thee about the globe.
	Provide thee two proper palfreys, black as jet,
	To hale thy vengeful waggon swift away,
	And find out murderers in their guilty caves:
	And when thy car is loaden with their heads,
	I will dismount, and by the waggon-wheel
	Trot, like a servile footman, all day long,
	Even from Hyperion's rising in the east
	Until his very downfall in the sea:
	And day by day I'll do this heavy task,
	So thou destroy Rapine and Murder there.

TAMORA	These are my ministers, and come with me.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Are these thy ministers? what are they call'd?

TAMORA	Rapine and Murder; therefore called so,
	Cause they take vengeance of such kind of men.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Good Lord, how like the empress' sons they are!
	And you, the empress! but we worldly men
	Have miserable, mad, mistaking eyes.
	O sweet Revenge, now do I come to thee;
	And, if one arm's embracement will content thee,
	I will embrace thee in it by and by.

	[Exit above]

TAMORA	This closing with him fits his lunacy
	Whate'er I forge to feed his brain-sick fits,
	Do you uphold and maintain in your speeches,
	For now he firmly takes me for Revenge;
	And, being credulous in this mad thought,
	I'll make him send for Lucius his son;
	And, whilst I at a banquet hold him sure,
	I'll find some cunning practise out of hand,
	To scatter and disperse the giddy Goths,
	Or, at the least, make them his enemies.
	See, here he comes, and I must ply my theme.

	[Enter TITUS below]

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Long have I been forlorn, and all for thee:
	Welcome, dread Fury, to my woful house:
	Rapine and Murder, you are welcome too.
	How like the empress and her sons you are!
	Well are you fitted, had you but a Moor:
	Could not all hell afford you such a devil?
	For well I wot the empress never wags
	But in her company there is a Moor;
	And, would you represent our queen aright,
	It were convenient you had such a devil:
	But welcome, as you are. What shall we do?

TAMORA	What wouldst thou have us do, Andronicus?

DEMETRIUS	Show me a murderer, I'll deal with him.

CHIRON	Show me a villain that hath done a rape,
	And I am sent to be revenged on him.

TAMORA	Show me a thousand that have done thee wrong,
	And I will be revenged on them all.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Look round about the wicked streets of Rome;
	And when thou find'st a man that's like thyself.
	Good Murder, stab him; he's a murderer.
	Go thou with him; and when it is thy hap
	To find another that is like to thee,
	Good Rapine, stab him; he's a ravisher.
	Go thou with them; and in the emperor's court
	There is a queen, attended by a Moor;
	Well mayst thou know her by thy own proportion,
	for up and down she doth resemble thee:
	I pray thee, do on them some violent death;
	They have been violent to me and mine.

TAMORA	Well hast thou lesson'd us; this shall we do.
	But would it please thee, good Andronicus,
	To send for Lucius, thy thrice-valiant son,
	Who leads towards Rome a band of warlike Goths,
	And bid him come and banquet at thy house;
	When he is here, even at thy solemn feast,
	I will bring in the empress and her sons,
	The emperor himself and all thy foes;
	And at thy mercy shalt they stoop and kneel,
	And on them shalt thou ease thy angry heart.
	What says Andronicus to this device?

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Marcus, my brother! 'tis sad Titus calls.

	[Enter MARCUS]

	Go, gentle Marcus, to thy nephew Lucius;
	Thou shalt inquire him out among the Goths:
	Bid him repair to me, and bring with him
	Some of the chiefest princes of the Goths;
	Bid him encamp his soldiers where they are:
	Tell him the emperor and the empress too
	Feast at my house, and he shall feast with them.
	This do thou for my love; and so let him,
	As he regards his aged father's life.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	This will I do, and soon return again.

	[Exit]

TAMORA	Now will I hence about thy business,
	And take my ministers along with me.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Nay, nay, let Rape and Murder stay with me;
	Or else I'll call my brother back again,
	And cleave to no revenge but Lucius.

TAMORA	[Aside to her sons]  What say you, boys? will you
	bide with him,
	Whiles I go tell my lord the emperor
	How I have govern'd our determined jest?
	Yield to his humour, smooth and speak him fair,
	And tarry with him till I turn again.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	[Aside]  I know them all, though they suppose me mad,
	And will o'erreach them in their own devices:
	A pair of cursed hell-hounds and their dam!

DEMETRIUS	Madam, depart at pleasure; leave us here.

TAMORA	Farewell, Andronicus: Revenge now goes
	To lay a complot to betray thy foes.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	I know thou dost; and, sweet Revenge, farewell.

	[Exit TAMORA]

CHIRON	Tell us, old man, how shall we be employ'd?

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Tut, I have work enough for you to do.
	Publius, come hither, Caius, and Valentine!

	[Enter PUBLIUS and others]

PUBLIUS	What is your will?

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Know you these two?

PUBLIUS	The empress' sons, I take them, Chiron and Demetrius.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Fie, Publius, fie! thou art too much deceived;
	The one is Murder, Rape is the other's name;
	And therefore bind them, gentle Publius.
	Caius and Valentine, lay hands on them.
	Oft have you heard me wish for such an hour,
	And now I find it; therefore bind them sure,
	And stop their mouths, if they begin to cry.

	[Exit]

	[PUBLIUS, &c. lay hold on CHIRON and DEMETRIUS]

CHIRON	Villains, forbear! we are the empress' sons.

PUBLIUS	And therefore do we what we are commanded.
	Stop close their mouths, let them not speak a word.
	Is he sure bound? look that you bind them fast.

	[Re-enter TITUS, with LAVINIA; he bearing a knife,
	and she a basin]

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Come, come, Lavinia; look, thy foes are bound.
	Sirs, stop their mouths, let them not speak to me;
	But let them hear what fearful words I utter.
	O villains, Chiron and Demetrius!
	Here stands the spring whom you have stain'd with mud,
	This goodly summer with your winter mix'd.
	You kill'd her husband, and for that vile fault
	Two of her brothers were condemn'd to death,
	My hand cut off and made a merry jest;
	Both her sweet hands, her tongue, and that more dear
	Than hands or tongue, her spotless chastity,
	Inhuman traitors, you constrain'd and forced.
	What would you say, if I should let you speak?
	Villains, for shame you could not beg for grace.
	Hark, wretches! how I mean to martyr you.
	This one hand yet is left to cut your throats,
	Whilst that Lavinia 'tween her stumps doth hold
	The basin that receives your guilty blood.
	You know your mother means to feast with me,
	And calls herself Revenge, and thinks me mad:
	Hark, villains! I will grind your bones to dust
	And with your blood and it I'll make a paste,
	And of the paste a coffin I will rear
	And make two pasties of your shameful heads,
	And bid that strumpet, your unhallow'd dam,
	Like to the earth swallow her own increase.
	This is the feast that I have bid her to,
	And this the banquet she shall surfeit on;
	For worse than Philomel you used my daughter,
	And worse than Progne I will be revenged:
	And now prepare your throats. Lavinia, come,

	[He cuts their throats]

	Receive the blood: and when that they are dead,
	Let me go grind their bones to powder small
	And with this hateful liquor temper it;
	And in that paste let their vile heads be baked.
	Come, come, be every one officious
	To make this banquet; which I wish may prove
	More stern and bloody than the Centaurs' feast.
	So, now bring them in, for I'll play the cook,
	And see them ready 'gainst their mother comes.

	[Exeunt, bearing the dead bodies]




	TITUS ANDRONICUS


ACT V



SCENE III	Court of TITUS's house. A banquet set out.


	[Enter LUCIUS, MARCUS, and Goths, with AARON prisoner]

LUCIUS	Uncle Marcus, since it is my father's mind
	That I repair to Rome, I am content.

First Goth	And ours with thine, befall what fortune will.

LUCIUS	Good uncle, take you in this barbarous Moor,
	This ravenous tiger, this accursed devil;
	Let him receive no sustenance, fetter him
	Till he be brought unto the empress' face,
	For testimony of her foul proceedings:
	And see the ambush of our friends be strong;
	I fear the emperor means no good to us.

AARON	Some devil whisper curses in mine ear,
	And prompt me, that my tongue may utter forth
	The venomous malice of my swelling heart!

LUCIUS	Away, inhuman dog! unhallow'd slave!
	Sirs, help our uncle to convey him in.

	[Exeunt Goths, with AARON. Flourish within]

	The trumpets show the emperor is at hand.

	[Enter SATURNINUS and TAMORA, with AEMILIUS,
	Tribunes, Senators, and others]

SATURNINUS	What, hath the firmament more suns than one?

LUCIUS	What boots it thee to call thyself a sun?

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	Rome's emperor, and nephew, break the parle;
	These quarrels must be quietly debated.
	The feast is ready, which the careful Titus
	Hath ordain'd to an honourable end,
	For peace, for love, for league, and good to Rome:
	Please you, therefore, draw nigh, and take your places.

SATURNINUS	Marcus, we will.

	[Hautboys sound. The Company sit down at table]

	[Enter TITUS dressed like a Cook, LAVINIA veiled,
	Young LUCIUS, and others. TITUS places the dishes
	on the table]

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Welcome, my gracious lord; welcome, dread queen;
	Welcome, ye warlike Goths; welcome, Lucius;
	And welcome, all: although the cheer be poor,
	'Twill fill your stomachs; please you eat of it.

SATURNINUS	Why art thou thus attired, Andronicus?

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Because I would be sure to have all well,
	To entertain your highness and your empress.

TAMORA	We are beholding to you, good Andronicus.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	An if your highness knew my heart, you were.
	My lord the emperor, resolve me this:
	Was it well done of rash Virginius
	To slay his daughter with his own right hand,
	Because she was enforced, stain'd, and deflower'd?

SATURNINUS	It was, Andronicus.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Your reason, mighty lord?

SATURNINUS	Because the girl should not survive her shame,
	And by her presence still renew his sorrows.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	A reason mighty, strong, and effectual;
	A pattern, precedent, and lively warrant,
	For me, most wretched, to perform the like.
	Die, die, Lavinia, and thy shame with thee;

	[Kills LAVINIA]

	And, with thy shame, thy father's sorrow die!

SATURNINUS	What hast thou done, unnatural and unkind?

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Kill'd her, for whom my tears have made me blind.
	I am as woful as Virginius was,
	And have a thousand times more cause than he
	To do this outrage: and it now is done.

SATURNINUS	What, was she ravish'd? tell who did the deed.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Will't please you eat? will't please your
	highness feed?

TAMORA	Why hast thou slain thine only daughter thus?

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Not I; 'twas Chiron and Demetrius:
	They ravish'd her, and cut away her tongue;
	And they, 'twas they, that did her all this wrong.

SATURNINUS	Go fetch them hither to us presently.

TITUS ANDRONICUS	Why, there they are both, baked in that pie;
	Whereof their mother daintily hath fed,
	Eating the flesh that she herself hath bred.
	'Tis true, 'tis true; witness my knife's sharp point.

	[Kills TAMORA]

SATURNINUS	Die, frantic wretch, for this accursed deed!

	[Kills TITUS]

LUCIUS	Can the son's eye behold his father bleed?
	There's meed for meed, death for a deadly deed!

	[Kills SATURNINUS. A great tumult. LUCIUS, MARCUS,
	and others go up into the balcony]

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	You sad-faced men, people and sons of Rome,
	By uproar sever'd, like a flight of fowl
	Scatter'd by winds and high tempestuous gusts,
	O, let me teach you how to knit again
	This scatter'd corn into one mutual sheaf,
	These broken limbs again into one body;
	Lest Rome herself be bane unto herself,
	And she whom mighty kingdoms court'sy to,
	Like a forlorn and desperate castaway,
	Do shameful execution on herself.
	But if my frosty signs and chaps of age,
	Grave witnesses of true experience,
	Cannot induce you to attend my words,

	[To LUCIUS]

	Speak, Rome's dear friend, as erst our ancestor,
	When with his solemn tongue he did discourse
	To love-sick Dido's sad attending ear
	The story of that baleful burning night
	When subtle Greeks surprised King Priam's Troy,
	Tell us what Sinon hath bewitch'd our ears,
	Or who hath brought the fatal engine in
	That gives our Troy, our Rome, the civil wound.
	My heart is not compact of flint nor steel;
	Nor can I utter all our bitter grief,
	But floods of tears will drown my oratory,
	And break my utterance, even in the time
	When it should move you to attend me most,
	Lending your kind commiseration.
	Here is a captain, let him tell the tale;
	Your hearts will throb and weep to hear him speak.

LUCIUS	Then, noble auditory, be it known to you,
	That cursed Chiron and Demetrius
	Were they that murdered our emperor's brother;
	And they it were that ravished our sister:
	For their fell faults our brothers were beheaded;
	Our father's tears despised, and basely cozen'd
	Of that true hand that fought Rome's quarrel out,
	And sent her enemies unto the grave.
	Lastly, myself unkindly banished,
	The gates shut on me, and turn'd weeping out,
	To beg relief among Rome's enemies:
	Who drown'd their enmity in my true tears.
	And oped their arms to embrace me as a friend.
	I am the turned forth, be it known to you,
	That have preserved her welfare in my blood;
	And from her bosom took the enemy's point,
	Sheathing the steel in my adventurous body.
	Alas, you know I am no vaunter, I;
	My scars can witness, dumb although they are,
	That my report is just and full of truth.
	But, soft! methinks I do digress too much,
	Citing my worthless praise: O, pardon me;
	For when no friends are by, men praise themselves.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	Now is my turn to speak. Behold this child:

	[Pointing to the Child in the arms of an Attendant]

	Of this was Tamora delivered;
	The issue of an irreligious Moor,
	Chief architect and plotter of these woes:
	The villain is alive in Titus' house,
	And as he is, to witness this is true.
	Now judge what cause had Titus to revenge
	These wrongs, unspeakable, past patience,
	Or more than any living man could bear.
	Now you have heard the truth, what say you, Romans?
	Have we done aught amiss,--show us wherein,
	And, from the place where you behold us now,
	The poor remainder of Andronici
	Will, hand in hand, all headlong cast us down.
	And on the ragged stones beat forth our brains,
	And make a mutual closure of our house.
	Speak, Romans, speak; and if you say we shall,
	Lo, hand in hand, Lucius and I will fall.

AEMILIUS	Come, come, thou reverend man of Rome,
	And bring our emperor gently in thy hand,
	Lucius our emperor; for well I know
	The common voice do cry it shall be so.

All	Lucius, all hail, Rome's royal emperor!

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	Go, go into old Titus' sorrowful house,

	[To Attendants]

	And hither hale that misbelieving Moor,
	To be adjudged some direful slaughtering death,
	As punishment for his most wicked life.

	[Exeunt Attendants]

	[LUCIUS, MARCUS, and the others descend]

All	Lucius, all hail, Rome's gracious governor!

LUCIUS	Thanks, gentle Romans: may I govern so,
	To heal Rome's harms, and wipe away her woe!
	But, gentle people, give me aim awhile,
	For nature puts me to a heavy task:
	Stand all aloof: but, uncle, draw you near,
	To shed obsequious tears upon this trunk.
	O, take this warm kiss on thy pale cold lips,

	[Kissing TITUS]

	These sorrowful drops upon thy blood-stain'd face,
	The last true duties of thy noble son!

MARCUS ANDRONICUS	Tear for tear, and loving kiss for kiss,
	Thy brother Marcus tenders on thy lips:
	O were the sum of these that I should pay
	Countless and infinite, yet would I pay them!

LUCIUS	Come hither, boy; come, come, and learn of us
	To melt in showers: thy grandsire loved thee well:
	Many a time he danced thee on his knee,
	Sung thee asleep, his loving breast thy pillow:
	Many a matter hath he told to thee,
	Meet and agreeing with thine infancy;
	In that respect, then, like a loving child,
	Shed yet some small drops from thy tender spring,
	Because kind nature doth require it so:
	Friends should associate friends in grief and woe:
	Bid him farewell; commit him to the grave;
	Do him that kindness, and take leave of him.

Young LUCIUS	O grandsire, grandsire! even with all my heart
	Would I were dead, so you did live again!
	O Lord, I cannot speak to him for weeping;
	My tears will choke me, if I ope my mouth.

	[Re-enter Attendants with AARON]

AEMILIUS	You sad Andronici, have done with woes:
	Give sentence on this execrable wretch,
	That hath been breeder of these dire events.

LUCIUS	Set him breast-deep in earth, and famish him;
	There let him stand, and rave, and cry for food;
	If any one relieves or pities him,
	For the offence he dies. This is our doom:
	Some stay to see him fasten'd in the earth.

AARON	O, why should wrath be mute, and fury dumb?
	I am no baby, I, that with base prayers
	I should repent the evils I have done:
	Ten thousand worse than ever yet I did
	Would I perform, if I might have my will;
	If one good deed in all my life I did,
	I do repent it from my very soul.

LUCIUS	Some loving friends convey the emperor hence,
	And give him burial in his father's grave:
	My father and Lavinia shall forthwith
	Be closed in our household's monument.
	As for that heinous tiger, Tamora,
	No funeral rite, nor man m mourning weeds,
	No mournful bell shall ring her burial;
	But throw her forth to beasts and birds of prey:
	Her life was beast-like, and devoid of pity;
	And, being so, shall have like want of pity.
	See justice done on Aaron, that damn'd Moor,
	By whom our heavy haps had their beginning:
	Then, afterwards, to order well the state,
	That like events may ne'er it ruinate.

	[Exeunt]




	
	
	
	
		
	ROMEO AND JULIET


	DRAMATIS PERSONAE


ESCALUS	prince of Verona. (PRINCE:)

PARIS	a young nobleman, kinsman to the prince.


MONTAGUE	|
	|  heads of two houses at variance with each other.
CAPULET	|


	An old man, cousin to Capulet. (Second Capulet:)

ROMEO	son to Montague.

MERCUTIO	kinsman to the prince, and friend to Romeo.

BENVOLIO	nephew to Montague, and friend to Romeo.

TYBALT	nephew to Lady Capulet.


FRIAR LAURENCE	|
	|  Franciscans.
FRIAR JOHN	|


BALTHASAR	servant to Romeo.


SAMPSON	|
	|  servants to Capulet.
GREGORY	|


PETER	servant to Juliet's nurse.

ABRAHAM	servant to Montague.

	An Apothecary. (Apothecary:)

	Three Musicians.
	(First Musician:)
	(Second Musician:)
	(Third Musician:)

	Page to Paris; (PAGE:)  another Page; an officer.

LADY MONTAGUE	wife to Montague.

LADY CAPULET	wife to Capulet.

JULIET	daughter to Capulet.

	Nurse to Juliet. (Nurse:)

	Citizens of Verona; several Men and Women,
	relations to both houses; Maskers,
	Guards, Watchmen, and Attendants.
	(First Citizen:)
	(Servant:)
	(First Servant:)
	(Second Servant:)
	(First Watchman:)
	(Second Watchman:)
	(Third Watchman:)
	Chorus.


SCENE	Verona: Mantua.




	ROMEO AND JULIET

	PROLOGUE


	Two households, both alike in dignity,
	In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,
	From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
	Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.
	From forth the fatal loins of these two foes
	A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life;
	Whole misadventured piteous overthrows
	Do with their death bury their parents' strife.
	The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love,
	And the continuance of their parents' rage,
	Which, but their children's end, nought could remove,
	Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage;
	The which if you with patient ears attend,
	What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.




	ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT I



SCENE I	Verona. A public place.


	[Enter SAMPSON and GREGORY, of the house of Capulet,
	armed with swords and bucklers]

SAMPSON	Gregory, o' my word, we'll not carry coals.

GREGORY	No, for then we should be colliers.

SAMPSON	I mean, an we be in choler, we'll draw.

GREGORY	Ay, while you live, draw your neck out o' the collar.

SAMPSON	I strike quickly, being moved.

GREGORY	But thou art not quickly moved to strike.

SAMPSON	A dog of the house of Montague moves me.

GREGORY	To move is to stir; and to be valiant is to stand:
	therefore, if thou art moved, thou runn'st away.

SAMPSON	A dog of that house shall move me to stand: I will
	take the wall of any man or maid of Montague's.

GREGORY	That shows thee a weak slave; for the weakest goes
	to the wall.

SAMPSON	True; and therefore women, being the weaker vessels,
	are ever thrust to the wall: therefore I will push
	Montague's men from the wall, and thrust his maids
	to the wall.

GREGORY	The quarrel is between our masters and us their men.

SAMPSON	'Tis all one, I will show myself a tyrant: when I
	have fought with the men, I will be cruel with the
	maids, and cut off their heads.

GREGORY	The heads of the maids?

SAMPSON	Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maidenheads;
	take it in what sense thou wilt.

GREGORY	They must take it in sense that feel it.

SAMPSON	Me they shall feel while I am able to stand: and
	'tis known I am a pretty piece of flesh.

GREGORY	'Tis well thou art not fish; if thou hadst, thou
	hadst been poor John. Draw thy tool! here comes
	two of the house of the Montagues.

SAMPSON	My naked weapon is out: quarrel, I will back thee.

GREGORY	How! turn thy back and run?

SAMPSON	Fear me not.

GREGORY	No, marry; I fear thee!

SAMPSON	Let us take the law of our sides; let them begin.

GREGORY	I will frown as I pass by, and let them take it as
	they list.

SAMPSON	Nay, as they dare. I will bite my thumb at them;
	which is a disgrace to them, if they bear it.

	[Enter ABRAHAM and BALTHASAR]

ABRAHAM	Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?

SAMPSON	I do bite my thumb, sir.

ABRAHAM	Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?

SAMPSON	[Aside to GREGORY]  Is the law of our side, if I say
	ay?

GREGORY	No.

SAMPSON	No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir, but I
	bite my thumb, sir.

GREGORY	Do you quarrel, sir?

ABRAHAM	Quarrel sir! no, sir.

SAMPSON	If you do, sir, I am for you: I serve as good a man as you.

ABRAHAM	No better.

SAMPSON	Well, sir.

GREGORY	Say 'better:' here comes one of my master's kinsmen.

SAMPSON	Yes, better, sir.

ABRAHAM	You lie.

SAMPSON	Draw, if you be men. Gregory, remember thy swashing blow.

	[They fight]

	[Enter BENVOLIO]

BENVOLIO	Part, fools!
	Put up your swords; you know not what you do.

	[Beats down their swords]

	[Enter TYBALT]

TYBALT	What, art thou drawn among these heartless hinds?
	Turn thee, Benvolio, look upon thy death.

BENVOLIO	I do but keep the peace: put up thy sword,
	Or manage it to part these men with me.

TYBALT	What, drawn, and talk of peace! I hate the word,
	As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee:
	Have at thee, coward!

	[They fight]

	[Enter, several of both houses, who join the fray;
	then enter Citizens, with clubs]

First Citizen	Clubs, bills, and partisans! strike! beat them down!
	Down with the Capulets! down with the Montagues!

	[Enter CAPULET in his gown, and LADY CAPULET]

CAPULET	What noise is this? Give me my long sword, ho!

LADY CAPULET	A crutch, a crutch! why call you for a sword?

CAPULET	My sword, I say! Old Montague is come,
	And flourishes his blade in spite of me.

	[Enter MONTAGUE and LADY MONTAGUE]

MONTAGUE	Thou villain Capulet,--Hold me not, let me go.

LADY MONTAGUE	Thou shalt not stir a foot to seek a foe.

	[Enter PRINCE, with Attendants]

PRINCE	Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace,
	Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel,--
	Will they not hear? What, ho! you men, you beasts,
	That quench the fire of your pernicious rage
	With purple fountains issuing from your veins,
	On pain of torture, from those bloody hands
	Throw your mistemper'd weapons to the ground,
	And hear the sentence of your moved prince.
	Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word,
	By thee, old Capulet, and Montague,
	Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets,
	And made Verona's ancient citizens
	Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments,
	To wield old partisans, in hands as old,
	Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd hate:
	If ever you disturb our streets again,
	Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace.
	For this time, all the rest depart away:
	You Capulet; shall go along with me:
	And, Montague, come you this afternoon,
	To know our further pleasure in this case,
	To old Free-town, our common judgment-place.
	Once more, on pain of death, all men depart.

	[Exeunt all but MONTAGUE, LADY MONTAGUE, and BENVOLIO]

MONTAGUE	Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach?
	Speak, nephew, were you by when it began?

BENVOLIO	Here were the servants of your adversary,
	And yours, close fighting ere I did approach:
	I drew to part them: in the instant came
	The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepared,
	Which, as he breathed defiance to my ears,
	He swung about his head and cut the winds,
	Who nothing hurt withal hiss'd him in scorn:
	While we were interchanging thrusts and blows,
	Came more and more and fought on part and part,
	Till the prince came, who parted either part.

LADY MONTAGUE	O, where is Romeo? saw you him to-day?
	Right glad I am he was not at this fray.

BENVOLIO	Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd sun
	Peer'd forth the golden window of the east,
	A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad;
	Where, underneath the grove of sycamore
	That westward rooteth from the city's side,
	So early walking did I see your son:
	Towards him I made, but he was ware of me
	And stole into the covert of the wood:
	I, measuring his affections by my own,
	That most are busied when they're most alone,
	Pursued my humour not pursuing his,
	And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me.

MONTAGUE	Many a morning hath he there been seen,
	With tears augmenting the fresh morning dew.
	Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs;
	But all so soon as the all-cheering sun
	Should in the furthest east begin to draw
	The shady curtains from Aurora's bed,
	Away from the light steals home my heavy son,
	And private in his chamber pens himself,
	Shuts up his windows, locks far daylight out
	And makes himself an artificial night:
	Black and portentous must this humour prove,
	Unless good counsel may the cause remove.

BENVOLIO	My noble uncle, do you know the cause?

MONTAGUE	I neither know it nor can learn of him.

BENVOLIO	Have you importuned him by any means?

MONTAGUE	Both by myself and many other friends:
	But he, his own affections' counsellor,
	Is to himself--I will not say how true--
	But to himself so secret and so close,
	So far from sounding and discovery,
	As is the bud bit with an envious worm,
	Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air,
	Or dedicate his beauty to the sun.
	Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow.
	We would as willingly give cure as know.

	[Enter ROMEO]

BENVOLIO	See, where he comes: so please you, step aside;
	I'll know his grievance, or be much denied.

MONTAGUE	I would thou wert so happy by thy stay,
	To hear true shrift. Come, madam, let's away.

	[Exeunt MONTAGUE and LADY MONTAGUE]

BENVOLIO	Good-morrow, cousin.

ROMEO	Is the day so young?

BENVOLIO	But new struck nine.

ROMEO	Ay me! sad hours seem long.
	Was that my father that went hence so fast?

BENVOLIO	It was. What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours?

ROMEO	Not having that, which, having, makes them short.

BENVOLIO	In love?

ROMEO	Out--

BENVOLIO	Of love?

ROMEO	Out of her favour, where I am in love.

BENVOLIO	Alas, that love, so gentle in his view,
	Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof!

ROMEO	Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still,
	Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will!
	Where shall we dine? O me! What fray was here?
	Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all.
	Here's much to do with hate, but more with love.
	Why, then, O brawling love! O loving hate!
	O any thing, of nothing first create!
	O heavy lightness! serious vanity!
	Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms!
	Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire,
	sick health!
	Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is!
	This love feel I, that feel no love in this.
	Dost thou not laugh?

BENVOLIO	No, coz, I rather weep.

ROMEO	Good heart, at what?

BENVOLIO	At thy good heart's oppression.

ROMEO	Why, such is love's transgression.
	Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast,
	Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest
	With more of thine: this love that thou hast shown
	Doth add more grief to too much of mine own.
	Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs;
	Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes;
	Being vex'd a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears:
	What is it else? a madness most discreet,
	A choking gall and a preserving sweet.
	Farewell, my coz.

BENVOLIO	                  Soft! I will go along;
	An if you leave me so, you do me wrong.

ROMEO	Tut, I have lost myself; I am not here;
	This is not Romeo, he's some other where.

BENVOLIO	Tell me in sadness, who is that you love.

ROMEO	What, shall I groan and tell thee?

BENVOLIO	Groan! why, no.
	But sadly tell me who.

ROMEO	Bid a sick man in sadness make his will:
	Ah, word ill urged to one that is so ill!
	In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman.

BENVOLIO	I aim'd so near, when I supposed you loved.

ROMEO	A right good mark-man! And she's fair I love.

BENVOLIO	A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit.

ROMEO	Well, in that hit you miss: she'll not be hit
	With Cupid's arrow; she hath Dian's wit;
	And, in strong proof of chastity well arm'd,
	From love's weak childish bow she lives unharm'd.
	She will not stay the siege of loving terms,
	Nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes,
	Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold:
	O, she is rich in beauty, only poor,
	That when she dies with beauty dies her store.

BENVOLIO	Then she hath sworn that she will still live chaste?

ROMEO	She hath, and in that sparing makes huge waste,
	For beauty starved with her severity
	Cuts beauty off from all posterity.
	She is too fair, too wise, wisely too fair,
	To merit bliss by making me despair:
	She hath forsworn to love, and in that vow
	Do I live dead that live to tell it now.

BENVOLIO	Be ruled by me, forget to think of her.

ROMEO	O, teach me how I should forget to think.

BENVOLIO	By giving liberty unto thine eyes;
	Examine other beauties.

ROMEO	'Tis the way
	To call hers exquisite, in question more:
	These happy masks that kiss fair ladies' brows
	Being black put us in mind they hide the fair;
	He that is strucken blind cannot forget
	The precious treasure of his eyesight lost:
	Show me a mistress that is passing fair,
	What doth her beauty serve, but as a note
	Where I may read who pass'd that passing fair?
	Farewell: thou canst not teach me to forget.

BENVOLIO	I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt.

	[Exeunt]




	ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT I



SCENE II	A street.


	[Enter CAPULET, PARIS, and Servant]

CAPULET	But Montague is bound as well as I,
	In penalty alike; and 'tis not hard, I think,
	For men so old as we to keep the peace.

PARIS	Of honourable reckoning are you both;
	And pity 'tis you lived at odds so long.
	But now, my lord, what say you to my suit?

CAPULET	But saying o'er what I have said before:
	My child is yet a stranger in the world;
	She hath not seen the change of fourteen years,
	Let two more summers wither in their pride,
	Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride.

PARIS	Younger than she are happy mothers made.

CAPULET	And too soon marr'd are those so early made.
	The earth hath swallow'd all my hopes but she,
	She is the hopeful lady of my earth:
	But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart,
	My will to her consent is but a part;
	An she agree, within her scope of choice
	Lies my consent and fair according voice.
	This night I hold an old accustom'd feast,
	Whereto I have invited many a guest,
	Such as I love; and you, among the store,
	One more, most welcome, makes my number more.
	At my poor house look to behold this night
	Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light:
	Such comfort as do lusty young men feel
	When well-apparell'd April on the heel
	Of limping winter treads, even such delight
	Among fresh female buds shall you this night
	Inherit at my house; hear all, all see,
	And like her most whose merit most shall be:
	Which on more view, of many mine being one
	May stand in number, though in reckoning none,
	Come, go with me.

	[To Servant, giving a paper]

	Go, sirrah, trudge about
	Through fair Verona; find those persons out
	Whose names are written there, and to them say,
	My house and welcome on their pleasure stay.

	[Exeunt CAPULET and PARIS]

Servant	Find them out whose names are written here! It is
	written, that the shoemaker should meddle with his
	yard, and the tailor with his last, the fisher with
	his pencil, and the painter with his nets; but I am
	sent to find those persons whose names are here
	writ, and can never find what names the writing
	person hath here writ. I must to the learned.--In good time.

	[Enter BENVOLIO and ROMEO]

BENVOLIO	Tut, man, one fire burns out another's burning,
	One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish;
	Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning;
	One desperate grief cures with another's languish:
	Take thou some new infection to thy eye,
	And the rank poison of the old will die.

ROMEO	Your plaintain-leaf is excellent for that.

BENVOLIO	For what, I pray thee?

ROMEO	For your broken shin.

BENVOLIO	Why, Romeo, art thou mad?

ROMEO	Not mad, but bound more than a mad-man is;
	Shut up in prison, kept without my food,
	Whipp'd and tormented and--God-den, good fellow.

Servant	God gi' god-den. I pray, sir, can you read?

ROMEO	Ay, mine own fortune in my misery.

Servant	Perhaps you have learned it without book: but, I
	pray, can you read any thing you see?

ROMEO	Ay, if I know the letters and the language.

Servant	Ye say honestly: rest you merry!

ROMEO	Stay, fellow; I can read.

	[Reads]

	'Signior Martino and his wife and daughters;
	County Anselme and his beauteous sisters; the lady
	widow of Vitravio; Signior Placentio and his lovely
	nieces; Mercutio and his brother Valentine; mine
	uncle Capulet, his wife and daughters; my fair niece
	Rosaline; Livia; Signior Valentio and his cousin
	Tybalt, Lucio and the lively Helena.' A fair
	assembly: whither should they come?

Servant	Up.

ROMEO	Whither?

Servant	To supper; to our house.

ROMEO	Whose house?

Servant	My master's.

ROMEO	Indeed, I should have ask'd you that before.

Servant	Now I'll tell you without asking: my master is the
	great rich Capulet; and if you be not of the house
	of Montagues, I pray, come and crush a cup of wine.
	Rest you merry!

	[Exit]

BENVOLIO	At this same ancient feast of Capulet's
	Sups the fair Rosaline whom thou so lovest,
	With all the admired beauties of Verona:
	Go thither; and, with unattainted eye,
	Compare her face with some that I shall show,
	And I will make thee think thy swan a crow.

ROMEO	When the devout religion of mine eye
	Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires;
	And these, who often drown'd could never die,
	Transparent heretics, be burnt for liars!
	One fairer than my love! the all-seeing sun
	Ne'er saw her match since first the world begun.

BENVOLIO	Tut, you saw her fair, none else being by,
	Herself poised with herself in either eye:
	But in that crystal scales let there be weigh'd
	Your lady's love against some other maid
	That I will show you shining at this feast,
	And she shall scant show well that now shows best.

ROMEO	I'll go along, no such sight to be shown,
	But to rejoice in splendor of mine own.

	[Exeunt]




	ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT I



SCENE III	A room in Capulet's house.


	[Enter LADY CAPULET and Nurse]

LADY CAPULET	Nurse, where's my daughter? call her forth to me.

Nurse	Now, by my maidenhead, at twelve year old,
	I bade her come. What, lamb! what, ladybird!
	God forbid! Where's this girl? What, Juliet!

	[Enter JULIET]

JULIET	How now! who calls?

Nurse	Your mother.

JULIET	Madam, I am here.
	What is your will?

LADY CAPULET	This is the matter:--Nurse, give leave awhile,
	We must talk in secret:--nurse, come back again;
	I have remember'd me, thou's hear our counsel.
	Thou know'st my daughter's of a pretty age.

Nurse	Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour.

LADY CAPULET	She's not fourteen.

Nurse	I'll lay fourteen of my teeth,--
	And yet, to my teeth be it spoken, I have but four--
	She is not fourteen. How long is it now
	To Lammas-tide?

LADY CAPULET	                  A fortnight and odd days.

Nurse	Even or odd, of all days in the year,
	Come Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen.
	Susan and she--God rest all Christian souls!--
	Were of an age: well, Susan is with God;
	She was too good for me: but, as I said,
	On Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen;
	That shall she, marry; I remember it well.
	'Tis since the earthquake now eleven years;
	And she was wean'd,--I never shall forget it,--
	Of all the days of the year, upon that day:
	For I had then laid wormwood to my dug,
	Sitting in the sun under the dove-house wall;
	My lord and you were then at Mantua:--
	Nay, I do bear a brain:--but, as I said,
	When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple
	Of my dug and felt it bitter, pretty fool,
	To see it tetchy and fall out with the dug!
	Shake quoth the dove-house: 'twas no need, I trow,
	To bid me trudge:
	And since that time it is eleven years;
	For then she could stand alone; nay, by the rood,
	She could have run and waddled all about;
	For even the day before, she broke her brow:
	And then my husband--God be with his soul!
	A' was a merry man--took up the child:
	'Yea,' quoth he, 'dost thou fall upon thy face?
	Thou wilt fall backward when thou hast more wit;
	Wilt thou not, Jule?' and, by my holidame,
	The pretty wretch left crying and said 'Ay.'
	To see, now, how a jest shall come about!
	I warrant, an I should live a thousand years,
	I never should forget it: 'Wilt thou not, Jule?' quoth he;
	And, pretty fool, it stinted and said 'Ay.'

LADY CAPULET	Enough of this; I pray thee, hold thy peace.

Nurse	Yes, madam: yet I cannot choose but laugh,
	To think it should leave crying and say 'Ay.'
	And yet, I warrant, it had upon its brow
	A bump as big as a young cockerel's stone;
	A parlous knock; and it cried bitterly:
	'Yea,' quoth my husband,'fall'st upon thy face?
	Thou wilt fall backward when thou comest to age;
	Wilt thou not, Jule?' it stinted and said 'Ay.'

JULIET	And stint thou too, I pray thee, nurse, say I.

Nurse	Peace, I have done. God mark thee to his grace!
	Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nursed:
	An I might live to see thee married once,
	I have my wish.

LADY CAPULET	Marry, that 'marry' is the very theme
	I came to talk of. Tell me, daughter Juliet,
	How stands your disposition to be married?

JULIET	It is an honour that I dream not of.

Nurse	An honour! were not I thine only nurse,
	I would say thou hadst suck'd wisdom from thy teat.

LADY CAPULET	Well, think of marriage now; younger than you,
	Here in Verona, ladies of esteem,
	Are made already mothers: by my count,
	I was your mother much upon these years
	That you are now a maid. Thus then in brief:
	The valiant Paris seeks you for his love.

Nurse	A man, young lady! lady, such a man
	As all the world--why, he's a man of wax.

LADY CAPULET	Verona's summer hath not such a flower.

Nurse	Nay, he's a flower; in faith, a very flower.

LADY CAPULET	What say you? can you love the gentleman?
	This night you shall behold him at our feast;
	Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face,
	And find delight writ there with beauty's pen;
	Examine every married lineament,
	And see how one another lends content
	And what obscured in this fair volume lies
	Find written in the margent of his eyes.
	This precious book of love, this unbound lover,
	To beautify him, only lacks a cover:
	The fish lives in the sea, and 'tis much pride
	For fair without the fair within to hide:
	That book in many's eyes doth share the glory,
	That in gold clasps locks in the golden story;
	So shall you share all that he doth possess,
	By having him, making yourself no less.

Nurse	No less! nay, bigger; women grow by men.

LADY CAPULET	Speak briefly, can you like of Paris' love?

JULIET	I'll look to like, if looking liking move:
	But no more deep will I endart mine eye
	Than your consent gives strength to make it fly.

	[Enter a Servant]

Servant	Madam, the guests are come, supper served up, you
	called, my young lady asked for, the nurse cursed in
	the pantry, and every thing in extremity. I must
	hence to wait; I beseech you, follow straight.

LADY CAPULET	We follow thee.

	[Exit Servant]

	Juliet, the county stays.

Nurse	Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days.

	[Exeunt]




	ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT I



SCENE IV	A street.


	[Enter ROMEO, MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, with five or six
	Maskers, Torch-bearers, and others]

ROMEO	What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse?
	Or shall we on without a apology?

BENVOLIO	The date is out of such prolixity:
	We'll have no Cupid hoodwink'd with a scarf,
	Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath,
	Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper;
	Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke
	After the prompter, for our entrance:
	But let them measure us by what they will;
	We'll measure them a measure, and be gone.

ROMEO	Give me a torch: I am not for this ambling;
	Being but heavy, I will bear the light.

MERCUTIO	Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance.

ROMEO	Not I, believe me: you have dancing shoes
	With nimble soles: I have a soul of lead
	So stakes me to the ground I cannot move.

MERCUTIO	You are a lover; borrow Cupid's wings,
	And soar with them above a common bound.

ROMEO	I am too sore enpierced with his shaft
	To soar with his light feathers, and so bound,
	I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe:
	Under love's heavy burden do I sink.

MERCUTIO	And, to sink in it, should you burden love;
	Too great oppression for a tender thing.

ROMEO	Is love a tender thing? it is too rough,
	Too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.

MERCUTIO	If love be rough with you, be rough with love;
	Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down.
	Give me a case to put my visage in:
	A visor for a visor! what care I
	What curious eye doth quote deformities?
	Here are the beetle brows shall blush for me.

BENVOLIO	Come, knock and enter; and no sooner in,
	But every man betake him to his legs.

ROMEO	A torch for me: let wantons light of heart
	Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels,
	For I am proverb'd with a grandsire phrase;
	I'll be a candle-holder, and look on.
	The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done.

MERCUTIO	Tut, dun's the mouse, the constable's own word:
	If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire
	Of this sir-reverence love, wherein thou stick'st
	Up to the ears. Come, we burn daylight, ho!

ROMEO	Nay, that's not so.

MERCUTIO	I mean, sir, in delay
	We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day.
	Take our good meaning, for our judgment sits
	Five times in that ere once in our five wits.

ROMEO	And we mean well in going to this mask;
	But 'tis no wit to go.

MERCUTIO	Why, may one ask?

ROMEO	I dream'd a dream to-night.

MERCUTIO	And so did I.

ROMEO	Well, what was yours?

MERCUTIO	That dreamers often lie.

ROMEO	In bed asleep, while they do dream things true.

MERCUTIO	O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you.
	She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes
	In shape no bigger than an agate-stone
	On the fore-finger of an alderman,
	Drawn with a team of little atomies
	Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep;
	Her wagon-spokes made of long spiders' legs,
	The cover of the wings of grasshoppers,
	The traces of the smallest spider's web,
	The collars of the moonshine's watery beams,
	Her whip of cricket's bone, the lash of film,
	Her wagoner a small grey-coated gnat,
	Not so big as a round little worm
	Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid;
	Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut
	Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub,
	Time out o' mind the fairies' coachmakers.
	And in this state she gallops night by night
	Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love;
	O'er courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies straight,
	O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees,
	O'er ladies ' lips, who straight on kisses dream,
	Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues,
	Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are:
	Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose,
	And then dreams he of smelling out a suit;
	And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig's tail
	Tickling a parson's nose as a' lies asleep,
	Then dreams, he of another benefice:
	Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck,
	And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats,
	Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades,
	Of healths five-fathom deep; and then anon
	Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes,
	And being thus frighted swears a prayer or two
	And sleeps again. This is that very Mab
	That plats the manes of horses in the night,
	And bakes the elflocks in foul sluttish hairs,
	Which once untangled, much misfortune bodes:
	This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs,
	That presses them and learns them first to bear,
	Making them women of good carriage:
	This is she--

ROMEO	                  Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace!
	Thou talk'st of nothing.

MERCUTIO	True, I talk of dreams,
	Which are the children of an idle brain,
	Begot of nothing but vain fantasy,
	Which is as thin of substance as the air
	And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes
	Even now the frozen bosom of the north,
	And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence,
	Turning his face to the dew-dropping south.

BENVOLIO	This wind, you talk of, blows us from ourselves;
	Supper is done, and we shall come too late.

ROMEO	I fear, too early: for my mind misgives
	Some consequence yet hanging in the stars
	Shall bitterly begin his fearful date
	With this night's revels and expire the term
	Of a despised life closed in my breast
	By some vile forfeit of untimely death.
	But He, that hath the steerage of my course,
	Direct my sail! On, lusty gentlemen.

BENVOLIO	Strike, drum.

	[Exeunt]




	ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT I



SCENE V	A hall in Capulet's house.


	[Musicians waiting. Enter Servingmen with napkins]

First Servant	Where's Potpan, that he helps not to take away? He
	shift a trencher? he scrape a trencher!

Second Servant	When good manners shall lie all in one or two men's
	hands and they unwashed too, 'tis a foul thing.

First Servant	Away with the joint-stools, remove the
	court-cupboard, look to the plate. Good thou, save
	me a piece of marchpane; and, as thou lovest me, let
	the porter let in Susan Grindstone and Nell.
	Antony, and Potpan!

Second Servant	Ay, boy, ready.

First Servant	You are looked for and called for, asked for and
	sought for, in the great chamber.

Second Servant	We cannot be here and there too. Cheerly, boys; be
	brisk awhile, and the longer liver take all.

	[Enter CAPULET, with JULIET and others of his house,
	meeting the Guests and Maskers]

CAPULET	Welcome, gentlemen! ladies that have their toes
	Unplagued with corns will have a bout with you.
	Ah ha, my mistresses! which of you all
	Will now deny to dance? she that makes dainty,
	She, I'll swear, hath corns; am I come near ye now?
	Welcome, gentlemen! I have seen the day
	That I have worn a visor and could tell
	A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear,
	Such as would please: 'tis gone, 'tis gone, 'tis gone:
	You are welcome, gentlemen! come, musicians, play.
	A hall, a hall! give room! and foot it, girls.

	[Music plays, and they dance]

	More light, you knaves; and turn the tables up,
	And quench the fire, the room is grown too hot.
	Ah, sirrah, this unlook'd-for sport comes well.
	Nay, sit, nay, sit, good cousin Capulet;
	For you and I are past our dancing days:
	How long is't now since last yourself and I
	Were in a mask?

Second Capulet	                  By'r lady, thirty years.

CAPULET	What, man! 'tis not so much, 'tis not so much:
	'Tis since the nuptials of Lucentio,
	Come pentecost as quickly as it will,
	Some five and twenty years; and then we mask'd.

Second Capulet	'Tis more, 'tis more, his son is elder, sir;
	His son is thirty.

CAPULET	                  Will you tell me that?
	His son was but a ward two years ago.

ROMEO	[To a Servingman]  What lady is that, which doth
	enrich the hand
	Of yonder knight?

Servant	I know not, sir.

ROMEO	O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!
	It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night
	Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear;
	Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!
	So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows,
	As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows.
	The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand,
	And, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand.
	Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight!
	For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.

TYBALT	This, by his voice, should be a Montague.
	Fetch me my rapier, boy. What dares the slave
	Come hither, cover'd with an antic face,
	To fleer and scorn at our solemnity?
	Now, by the stock and honour of my kin,
	To strike him dead, I hold it not a sin.

CAPULET	Why, how now, kinsman! wherefore storm you so?

TYBALT	Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe,
	A villain that is hither come in spite,
	To scorn at our solemnity this night.

CAPULET	Young Romeo is it?

TYBALT	'Tis he, that villain Romeo.

CAPULET	Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone;
	He bears him like a portly gentleman;
	And, to say truth, Verona brags of him
	To be a virtuous and well-govern'd youth:
	I would not for the wealth of all the town
	Here in my house do him disparagement:
	Therefore be patient, take no note of him:
	It is my will, the which if thou respect,
	Show a fair presence and put off these frowns,
	And ill-beseeming semblance for a feast.

TYBALT	It fits, when such a villain is a guest:
	I'll not endure him.

CAPULET	He shall be endured:
	What, goodman boy! I say, he shall: go to;
	Am I the master here, or you? go to.
	You'll not endure him! God shall mend my soul!
	You'll make a mutiny among my guests!
	You will set cock-a-hoop! you'll be the man!

TYBALT	Why, uncle, 'tis a shame.

CAPULET	Go to, go to;
	You are a saucy boy: is't so, indeed?
	This trick may chance to scathe you, I know what:
	You must contrary me! marry, 'tis time.
	Well said, my hearts! You are a princox; go:
	Be quiet, or--More light, more light! For shame!
	I'll make you quiet. What, cheerly, my hearts!

TYBALT	Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting
	Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting.
	I will withdraw: but this intrusion shall
	Now seeming sweet convert to bitter gall.

	[Exit]

ROMEO	[To JULIET]  If I profane with my unworthiest hand
	This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this:
	My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
	To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.

JULIET	Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,
	Which mannerly devotion shows in this;
	For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,
	And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.

ROMEO	Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?

JULIET	Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.

ROMEO	O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;
	They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.

JULIET	Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.

ROMEO	Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take.
	Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged.

JULIET	Then have my lips the sin that they have took.

ROMEO	Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged!
	Give me my sin again.

JULIET	You kiss by the book.

Nurse	Madam, your mother craves a word with you.

ROMEO	What is her mother?

Nurse	Marry, bachelor,
	Her mother is the lady of the house,
	And a good lady, and a wise and virtuous
	I nursed her daughter, that you talk'd withal;
	I tell you, he that can lay hold of her
	Shall have the chinks.

ROMEO	Is she a Capulet?
	O dear account! my life is my foe's debt.

BENVOLIO	Away, begone; the sport is at the best.

ROMEO	Ay, so I fear; the more is my unrest.

CAPULET	Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone;
	We have a trifling foolish banquet towards.
	Is it e'en so? why, then, I thank you all
	I thank you, honest gentlemen; good night.
	More torches here! Come on then, let's to bed.
	Ah, sirrah, by my fay, it waxes late:
	I'll to my rest.

	[Exeunt all but JULIET and Nurse]

JULIET	Come hither, nurse. What is yond gentleman?

Nurse	The son and heir of old Tiberio.

JULIET	What's he that now is going out of door?

Nurse	Marry, that, I think, be young Petrucio.

JULIET	What's he that follows there, that would not dance?

Nurse	I know not.

JULIET	Go ask his name: if he be married.
	My grave is like to be my wedding bed.

Nurse	His name is Romeo, and a Montague;
	The only son of your great enemy.

JULIET	My only love sprung from my only hate!
	Too early seen unknown, and known too late!
	Prodigious birth of love it is to me,
	That I must love a loathed enemy.

Nurse	What's this? what's this?

JULIET	A rhyme I learn'd even now
	Of one I danced withal.

	[One calls within 'Juliet.']

Nurse	Anon, anon!
	Come, let's away; the strangers all are gone.

	[Exeunt]




	ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT II


	PROLOGUE


	[Enter Chorus]

Chorus	Now old desire doth in his death-bed lie,
	And young affection gapes to be his heir;
	That fair for which love groan'd for and would die,
	With tender Juliet match'd, is now not fair.
	Now Romeo is beloved and loves again,
	Alike betwitched by the charm of looks,
	But to his foe supposed he must complain,
	And she steal love's sweet bait from fearful hooks:
	Being held a foe, he may not have access
	To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear;
	And she as much in love, her means much less
	To meet her new-beloved any where:
	But passion lends them power, time means, to meet
	Tempering extremities with extreme sweet.

	[Exit]




	ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT II



SCENE I	A lane by the wall of Capulet's orchard.


	[Enter ROMEO]

ROMEO	Can I go forward when my heart is here?
	Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out.

	[He climbs the wall, and leaps down within it]

	[Enter BENVOLIO and MERCUTIO]

BENVOLIO	Romeo! my cousin Romeo!

MERCUTIO	He is wise;
	And, on my lie, hath stol'n him home to bed.

BENVOLIO	He ran this way, and leap'd this orchard wall:
	Call, good Mercutio.

MERCUTIO	Nay, I'll conjure too.
	Romeo! humours! madman! passion! lover!
	Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh:
	Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied;
	Cry but 'Ay me!' pronounce but 'love' and 'dove;'
	Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word,
	One nick-name for her purblind son and heir,
	Young Adam Cupid, he that shot so trim,
	When King Cophetua loved the beggar-maid!
	He heareth not, he stirreth not, he moveth not;
	The ape is dead, and I must conjure him.
	I conjure thee by Rosaline's bright eyes,
	By her high forehead and her scarlet lip,
	By her fine foot, straight leg and quivering thigh
	And the demesnes that there adjacent lie,
	That in thy likeness thou appear to us!

BENVOLIO	And if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him.

MERCUTIO	This cannot anger him: 'twould anger him
	To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle
	Of some strange nature, letting it there stand
	Till she had laid it and conjured it down;
	That were some spite: my invocation
	Is fair and honest, and in his mistress' name
	I conjure only but to raise up him.

BENVOLIO	Come, he hath hid himself among these trees,
	To be consorted with the humorous night:
	Blind is his love and best befits the dark.

MERCUTIO	If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark.
	Now will he sit under a medlar tree,
	And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit
	As maids call medlars, when they laugh alone.
	Romeo, that she were, O, that she were
	An open et caetera, thou a poperin pear!
	Romeo, good night: I'll to my truckle-bed;
	This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep:
	Come, shall we go?

BENVOLIO	                  Go, then; for 'tis in vain
	To seek him here that means not to be found.

	[Exeunt]




	ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT II



SCENE II	Capulet's orchard.


	[Enter ROMEO]

ROMEO	He jests at scars that never felt a wound.

	[JULIET appears above at a window]

	But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?
	It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.
	Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
	Who is already sick and pale with grief,
	That thou her maid art far more fair than she:
	Be not her maid, since she is envious;
	Her vestal livery is but sick and green
	And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.
	It is my lady, O, it is my love!
	O, that she knew she were!
	She speaks yet she says nothing: what of that?
	Her eye discourses; I will answer it.
	I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks:
	Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,
	Having some business, do entreat her eyes
	To twinkle in their spheres till they return.
	What if her eyes were there, they in her head?
	The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars,
	As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven
	Would through the airy region stream so bright
	That birds would sing and think it were not night.
	See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand!
	O, that I were a glove upon that hand,
	That I might touch that cheek!

JULIET	Ay me!

ROMEO	She speaks:
	O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art
	As glorious to this night, being o'er my head
	As is a winged messenger of heaven
	Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes
	Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him
	When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds
	And sails upon the bosom of the air.

JULIET	O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?
	Deny thy father and refuse thy name;
	Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,
	And I'll no longer be a Capulet.

ROMEO	[Aside]  Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?

JULIET	'Tis but thy name that is my enemy;
	Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.
	What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot,
	Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part
	Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!
	What's in a name? that which we call a rose
	By any other name would smell as sweet;
	So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd,
	Retain that dear perfection which he owes
	Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name,
	And for that name which is no part of thee
	Take all myself.

ROMEO	                  I take thee at thy word:
	Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized;
	Henceforth I never will be Romeo.

JULIET	What man art thou that thus bescreen'd in night
	So stumblest on my counsel?

ROMEO	By a name
	I know not how to tell thee who I am:
	My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself,
	Because it is an enemy to thee;
	Had I it written, I would tear the word.

JULIET	My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words
	Of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound:
	Art thou not Romeo and a Montague?

ROMEO	Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike.

JULIET	How camest thou hither, tell me, and wherefore?
	The orchard walls are high and hard to climb,
	And the place death, considering who thou art,
	If any of my kinsmen find thee here.

ROMEO	With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls;
	For stony limits cannot hold love out,
	And what love can do that dares love attempt;
	Therefore thy kinsmen are no let to me.

JULIET	If they do see thee, they will murder thee.

ROMEO	Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye
	Than twenty of their swords: look thou but sweet,
	And I am proof against their enmity.

JULIET	I would not for the world they saw thee here.

ROMEO	I have night's cloak to hide me from their sight;
	And but thou love me, let them find me here:
	My life were better ended by their hate,
	Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love.

JULIET	By whose direction found'st thou out this place?

ROMEO	By love, who first did prompt me to inquire;
	He lent me counsel and I lent him eyes.
	I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far
	As that vast shore wash'd with the farthest sea,
	I would adventure for such merchandise.

JULIET	Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face,
	Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek
	For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night
	Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny
	What I have spoke: but farewell compliment!
	Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say 'Ay,'
	And I will take thy word: yet if thou swear'st,
	Thou mayst prove false; at lovers' perjuries
	Then say, Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo,
	If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully:
	Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won,
	I'll frown and be perverse an say thee nay,
	So thou wilt woo; but else, not for the world.
	In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond,
	And therefore thou mayst think my 'havior light:
	But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true
	Than those that have more cunning to be strange.
	I should have been more strange, I must confess,
	But that thou overheard'st, ere I was ware,
	My true love's passion: therefore pardon me,
	And not impute this yielding to light love,
	Which the dark night hath so discovered.

ROMEO	Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear
	That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops--

JULIET	O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon,
	That monthly changes in her circled orb,
	Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.

ROMEO	What shall I swear by?

JULIET	Do not swear at all;
	Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self,
	Which is the god of my idolatry,
	And I'll believe thee.

ROMEO	If my heart's dear love--

JULIET	Well, do not swear: although I joy in thee,
	I have no joy of this contract to-night:
	It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden;
	Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be
	Ere one can say 'It lightens.' Sweet, good night!
	This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath,
	May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet.
	Good night, good night! as sweet repose and rest
	Come to thy heart as that within my breast!

ROMEO	O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?

JULIET	What satisfaction canst thou have to-night?

ROMEO	The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine.

JULIET	I gave thee mine before thou didst request it:
	And yet I would it were to give again.

ROMEO	Wouldst thou withdraw it? for what purpose, love?

JULIET	But to be frank, and give it thee again.
	And yet I wish but for the thing I have:
	My bounty is as boundless as the sea,
	My love as deep; the more I give to thee,
	The more I have, for both are infinite.

	[Nurse calls within]

	I hear some noise within; dear love, adieu!
	Anon, good nurse! Sweet Montague, be true.
	Stay but a little, I will come again.

	[Exit, above]

ROMEO	O blessed, blessed night! I am afeard.
	Being in night, all this is but a dream,
	Too flattering-sweet to be substantial.

	[Re-enter JULIET, above]

JULIET	Three words, dear Romeo, and good night indeed.
	If that thy bent of love be honourable,
	Thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow,
	By one that I'll procure to come to thee,
	Where and what time thou wilt perform the rite;
	And all my fortunes at thy foot I'll lay
	And follow thee my lord throughout the world.

Nurse	[Within]  Madam!

JULIET	I come, anon.--But if thou mean'st not well,
	I do beseech thee--

Nurse	[Within]  Madam!

JULIET	By and by, I come:--
	To cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief:
	To-morrow will I send.

ROMEO	So thrive my soul--

JULIET	A thousand times good night!

	[Exit, above]

ROMEO	A thousand times the worse, to want thy light.
	Love goes toward love, as schoolboys from
	their books,
	But love from love, toward school with heavy looks.

	[Retiring]

	[Re-enter JULIET, above]

JULIET	Hist! Romeo, hist! O, for a falconer's voice,
	To lure this tassel-gentle back again!
	Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud;
	Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies,
	And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine,
	With repetition of my Romeo's name.

ROMEO	It is my soul that calls upon my name:
	How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night,
	Like softest music to attending ears!

JULIET	Romeo!

ROMEO	     My dear?

JULIET	                  At what o'clock to-morrow
	Shall I send to thee?

ROMEO	At the hour of nine.

JULIET	I will not fail: 'tis twenty years till then.
	I have forgot why I did call thee back.

ROMEO	Let me stand here till thou remember it.

JULIET	I shall forget, to have thee still stand there,
	Remembering how I love thy company.

ROMEO	And I'll still stay, to have thee still forget,
	Forgetting any other home but this.

JULIET	'Tis almost morning; I would have thee gone:
	And yet no further than a wanton's bird;
	Who lets it hop a little from her hand,
	Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves,
	And with a silk thread plucks it back again,
	So loving-jealous of his liberty.

ROMEO	I would I were thy bird.

JULIET	Sweet, so would I:
	Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing.
	Good night, good night! parting is such
	sweet sorrow,
	That I shall say good night till it be morrow.

	[Exit above]

ROMEO	Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast!
	Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest!
	Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell,
	His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell.

	[Exit]




	ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT II



SCENE III	Friar Laurence's cell.


	[Enter FRIAR LAURENCE, with a basket]

FRIAR LAURENCE	The grey-eyed morn smiles on the frowning night,
	Chequering the eastern clouds with streaks of light,
	And flecked darkness like a drunkard reels
	From forth day's path and Titan's fiery wheels:
	Now, ere the sun advance his burning eye,
	The day to cheer and night's dank dew to dry,
	I must up-fill this osier cage of ours
	With baleful weeds and precious-juiced flowers.
	The earth that's nature's mother is her tomb;
	What is her burying grave that is her womb,
	And from her womb children of divers kind
	We sucking on her natural bosom find,
	Many for many virtues excellent,
	None but for some and yet all different.
	O, mickle is the powerful grace that lies
	In herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities:
	For nought so vile that on the earth doth live
	But to the earth some special good doth give,
	Nor aught so good but strain'd from that fair use
	Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse:
	Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied;
	And vice sometimes by action dignified.
	Within the infant rind of this small flower
	Poison hath residence and medicine power:
	For this, being smelt, with that part cheers each part;
	Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart.
	Two such opposed kings encamp them still
	In man as well as herbs, grace and rude will;
	And where the worser is predominant,
	Full soon the canker death eats up that plant.

	[Enter ROMEO]

ROMEO	Good morrow, father.

FRIAR LAURENCE	Benedicite!
	What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?
	Young son, it argues a distemper'd head
	So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed:
	Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye,
	And where care lodges, sleep will never lie;
	But where unbruised youth with unstuff'd brain
	Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign:
	Therefore thy earliness doth me assure
	Thou art up-roused by some distemperature;
	Or if not so, then here I hit it right,
	Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night.

ROMEO	That last is true; the sweeter rest was mine.

FRIAR LAURENCE	God pardon sin! wast thou with Rosaline?

ROMEO	With Rosaline, my ghostly father? no;
	I have forgot that name, and that name's woe.

FRIAR LAURENCE	That's my good son: but where hast thou been, then?

ROMEO	I'll tell thee, ere thou ask it me again.
	I have been feasting with mine enemy,
	Where on a sudden one hath wounded me,
	That's by me wounded: both our remedies
	Within thy help and holy physic lies:
	I bear no hatred, blessed man, for, lo,
	My intercession likewise steads my foe.

FRIAR LAURENCE	Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift;
	Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift.

ROMEO	Then plainly know my heart's dear love is set
	On the fair daughter of rich Capulet:
	As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine;
	And all combined, save what thou must combine
	By holy marriage: when and where and how
	We met, we woo'd and made exchange of vow,
	I'll tell thee as we pass; but this I pray,
	That thou consent to marry us to-day.

FRIAR LAURENCE	Holy Saint Francis, what a change is here!
	Is Rosaline, whom thou didst love so dear,
	So soon forsaken? young men's love then lies
	Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.
	Jesu Maria, what a deal of brine
	Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline!
	How much salt water thrown away in waste,
	To season love, that of it doth not taste!
	The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears,
	Thy old groans ring yet in my ancient ears;
	Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit
	Of an old tear that is not wash'd off yet:
	If e'er thou wast thyself and these woes thine,
	Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline:
	And art thou changed? pronounce this sentence then,
	Women may fall, when there's no strength in men.

ROMEO	Thou chid'st me oft for loving Rosaline.

FRIAR LAURENCE	For doting, not for loving, pupil mine.

ROMEO	And bad'st me bury love.

FRIAR LAURENCE	Not in a grave,
	To lay one in, another out to have.

ROMEO	I pray thee, chide not; she whom I love now
	Doth grace for grace and love for love allow;
	The other did not so.

FRIAR LAURENCE	O, she knew well
	Thy love did read by rote and could not spell.
	But come, young waverer, come, go with me,
	In one respect I'll thy assistant be;
	For this alliance may so happy prove,
	To turn your households' rancour to pure love.

ROMEO	O, let us hence; I stand on sudden haste.

FRIAR LAURENCE	Wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast.

	[Exeunt]




	ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT II



SCENE IV	A street.


	[Enter BENVOLIO and MERCUTIO]

MERCUTIO	Where the devil should this Romeo be?
	Came he not home to-night?

BENVOLIO	Not to his father's; I spoke with his man.

MERCUTIO	Ah, that same pale hard-hearted wench, that Rosaline.
	Torments him so, that he will sure run mad.

BENVOLIO	Tybalt, the kinsman of old Capulet,
	Hath sent a letter to his father's house.

MERCUTIO	A challenge, on my life.

BENVOLIO	Romeo will answer it.

MERCUTIO	Any man that can write may answer a letter.

BENVOLIO	Nay, he will answer the letter's master, how he
	dares, being dared.

MERCUTIO	Alas poor Romeo! he is already dead; stabbed with a
	white wench's black eye; shot through the ear with a
	love-song; the very pin of his heart cleft with the
	blind bow-boy's butt-shaft: and is he a man to
	encounter Tybalt?

BENVOLIO	Why, what is Tybalt?

MERCUTIO	More than prince of cats, I can tell you. O, he is
	the courageous captain of compliments. He fights as
	you sing prick-song, keeps time, distance, and
	proportion; rests me his minim rest, one, two, and
	the third in your bosom: the very butcher of a silk
	button, a duellist, a duellist; a gentleman of the
	very first house, of the first and second cause:
	ah, the immortal passado! the punto reverso! the
	hai!

BENVOLIO	The what?

MERCUTIO	The pox of such antic, lisping, affecting
	fantasticoes; these new tuners of accents! 'By Jesu,
	a very good blade! a very tall man! a very good
	whore!' Why, is not this a lamentable thing,
	grandsire, that we should be thus afflicted with
	these strange flies, these fashion-mongers, these
	perdona-mi's, who stand so much on the new form,
	that they cannot at ease on the old bench? O, their
	bones, their bones!

	[Enter ROMEO]

BENVOLIO	Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo.

MERCUTIO	Without his roe, like a dried herring: flesh, flesh,
	how art thou fishified! Now is he for the numbers
	that Petrarch flowed in: Laura to his lady was but a
	kitchen-wench; marry, she had a better love to
	be-rhyme her; Dido a dowdy; Cleopatra a gipsy;
	Helen and Hero hildings and harlots; Thisbe a grey
	eye or so, but not to the purpose. Signior
	Romeo, bon jour! there's a French salutation
	to your French slop. You gave us the counterfeit
	fairly last night.

ROMEO	Good morrow to you both. What counterfeit did I give you?

MERCUTIO	The ship, sir, the slip; can you not conceive?

ROMEO	Pardon, good Mercutio, my business was great; and in
	such a case as mine a man may strain courtesy.

MERCUTIO	That's as much as to say, such a case as yours
	constrains a man to bow in the hams.

ROMEO	Meaning, to court'sy.

MERCUTIO	Thou hast most kindly hit it.

ROMEO	A most courteous exposition.

MERCUTIO	Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy.

ROMEO	Pink for flower.

MERCUTIO	Right.

ROMEO	Why, then is my pump well flowered.

MERCUTIO	Well said: follow me this jest now till thou hast
	worn out thy pump, that when the single sole of it
	is worn, the jest may remain after the wearing sole singular.

ROMEO	O single-soled jest, solely singular for the
	singleness.

MERCUTIO	Come between us, good Benvolio; my wits faint.

ROMEO	Switch and spurs, switch and spurs; or I'll cry a match.

MERCUTIO	Nay, if thy wits run the wild-goose chase, I have
	done, for thou hast more of the wild-goose in one of
	thy wits than, I am sure, I have in my whole five:
	was I with you there for the goose?

ROMEO	Thou wast never with me for any thing when thou wast
	not there for the goose.

MERCUTIO	I will bite thee by the ear for that jest.

ROMEO	Nay, good goose, bite not.

MERCUTIO	Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting; it is a most
	sharp sauce.

ROMEO	And is it not well served in to a sweet goose?

MERCUTIO	O here's a wit of cheveril, that stretches from an
	inch narrow to an ell broad!

ROMEO	I stretch it out for that word 'broad;' which added
	to the goose, proves thee far and wide a broad goose.

MERCUTIO	Why, is not this better now than groaning for love?
	now art thou sociable, now art thou Romeo; now art
	thou what thou art, by art as well as by nature:
	for this drivelling love is like a great natural,
	that runs lolling up and down to hide his bauble in a hole.

BENVOLIO	Stop there, stop there.

MERCUTIO	Thou desirest me to stop in my tale against the hair.

BENVOLIO	Thou wouldst else have made thy tale large.

MERCUTIO	O, thou art deceived; I would have made it short:
	for I was come to the whole depth of my tale; and
	meant, indeed, to occupy the argument no longer.

ROMEO	Here's goodly gear!

	[Enter Nurse and PETER]

MERCUTIO	A sail, a sail!

BENVOLIO	Two, two; a shirt and a smock.

Nurse	Peter!

PETER	Anon!

Nurse	My fan, Peter.

MERCUTIO	Good Peter, to hide her face; for her fan's the
	fairer face.

Nurse	God ye good morrow, gentlemen.

MERCUTIO	God ye good den, fair gentlewoman.

Nurse	Is it good den?

MERCUTIO	'Tis no less, I tell you, for the bawdy hand of the
	dial is now upon the prick of noon.

Nurse	Out upon you! what a man are you!

ROMEO	One, gentlewoman, that God hath made for himself to
	mar.

Nurse	By my troth, it is well said; 'for himself to mar,'
	quoth a'? Gentlemen, can any of you tell me where I
	may find the young Romeo?

ROMEO	I can tell you; but young Romeo will be older when
	you have found him than he was when you sought him:
	I am the youngest of that name, for fault of a worse.

Nurse	You say well.

MERCUTIO	Yea, is the worst well? very well took, i' faith;
	wisely, wisely.

Nurse	if you be he, sir, I desire some confidence with
	you.

BENVOLIO	She will indite him to some supper.

MERCUTIO	A bawd, a bawd, a bawd! so ho!

ROMEO	What hast thou found?

MERCUTIO	No hare, sir; unless a hare, sir, in a lenten pie,
	that is something stale and hoar ere it be spent.

	[Sings]

	An old hare hoar,
	And an old hare hoar,
	Is very good meat in lent
	But a hare that is hoar
	Is too much for a score,
	When it hoars ere it be spent.
	Romeo, will you come to your father's? we'll
	to dinner, thither.

ROMEO	I will follow you.

MERCUTIO	Farewell, ancient lady; farewell,

	[Singing]

	'lady, lady, lady.'

	[Exeunt MERCUTIO and BENVOLIO]

Nurse	Marry, farewell! I pray you, sir, what saucy
	merchant was this, that was so full of his ropery?

ROMEO	A gentleman, nurse, that loves to hear himself talk,
	and will speak more in a minute than he will stand
	to in a month.

Nurse	An a' speak any thing against me, I'll take him
	down, an a' were lustier than he is, and twenty such
	Jacks; and if I cannot, I'll find those that shall.
	Scurvy knave! I am none of his flirt-gills; I am
	none of his skains-mates. And thou must stand by
	too, and suffer every knave to use me at his pleasure?

PETER	I saw no man use you a pleasure; if I had, my weapon
	should quickly have been out, I warrant you: I dare
	draw as soon as another man, if I see occasion in a
	good quarrel, and the law on my side.

Nurse	Now, afore God, I am so vexed, that every part about
	me quivers. Scurvy knave! Pray you, sir, a word:
	and as I told you, my young lady bade me inquire you
	out; what she bade me say, I will keep to myself:
	but first let me tell ye, if ye should lead her into
	a fool's paradise, as they say, it were a very gross
	kind of behavior, as they say: for the gentlewoman
	is young; and, therefore, if you should deal double
	with her, truly it were an ill thing to be offered
	to any gentlewoman, and very weak dealing.

ROMEO	Nurse, commend me to thy lady and mistress. I
	protest unto thee--

Nurse	Good heart, and, i' faith, I will tell her as much:
	Lord, Lord, she will be a joyful woman.

ROMEO	What wilt thou tell her, nurse? thou dost not mark me.

Nurse	I will tell her, sir, that you do protest; which, as
	I take it, is a gentlemanlike offer.

ROMEO	Bid her devise
	Some means to come to shrift this afternoon;
	And there she shall at Friar Laurence' cell
	Be shrived and married. Here is for thy pains.

Nurse	No truly sir; not a penny.

ROMEO	Go to; I say you shall.

Nurse	This afternoon, sir? well, she shall be there.

ROMEO	And stay, good nurse, behind the abbey wall:
	Within this hour my man shall be with thee
	And bring thee cords made like a tackled stair;
	Which to the high top-gallant of my joy
	Must be my convoy in the secret night.
	Farewell; be trusty, and I'll quit thy pains:
	Farewell; commend me to thy mistress.

Nurse	Now God in heaven bless thee! Hark you, sir.

ROMEO	What say'st thou, my dear nurse?

Nurse	Is your man secret? Did you ne'er hear say,
	Two may keep counsel, putting one away?

ROMEO	I warrant thee, my man's as true as steel.

NURSE	Well, sir; my mistress is the sweetest lady--Lord,
	Lord! when 'twas a little prating thing:--O, there
	is a nobleman in town, one Paris, that would fain
	lay knife aboard; but she, good soul, had as lief
	see a toad, a very toad, as see him. I anger her
	sometimes and tell her that Paris is the properer
	man; but, I'll warrant you, when I say so, she looks
	as pale as any clout in the versal world. Doth not
	rosemary and Romeo begin both with a letter?

ROMEO	Ay, nurse; what of that? both with an R.

Nurse	Ah. mocker! that's the dog's name; R is for
	the--No; I know it begins with some other
	letter:--and she hath the prettiest sententious of
	it, of you and rosemary, that it would do you good
	to hear it.

ROMEO	Commend me to thy lady.

Nurse	Ay, a thousand times.

	[Exit Romeo]
	Peter!

PETER	Anon!

Nurse	Peter, take my fan, and go before and apace.

	[Exeunt]




	ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT II



SCENE V	Capulet's orchard.


	[Enter JULIET]

JULIET	The clock struck nine when I did send the nurse;
	In half an hour she promised to return.
	Perchance she cannot meet him: that's not so.
	O, she is lame! love's heralds should be thoughts,
	Which ten times faster glide than the sun's beams,
	Driving back shadows over louring hills:
	Therefore do nimble-pinion'd doves draw love,
	And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings.
	Now is the sun upon the highmost hill
	Of this day's journey, and from nine till twelve
	Is three long hours, yet she is not come.
	Had she affections and warm youthful blood,
	She would be as swift in motion as a ball;
	My words would bandy her to my sweet love,
	And his to me:
	But old folks, many feign as they were dead;
	Unwieldy, slow, heavy and pale as lead.
	O God, she comes!

	[Enter Nurse and PETER]

	O honey nurse, what news?
	Hast thou met with him? Send thy man away.

Nurse	Peter, stay at the gate.

	[Exit PETER]

JULIET	Now, good sweet nurse,--O Lord, why look'st thou sad?
	Though news be sad, yet tell them merrily;
	If good, thou shamest the music of sweet news
	By playing it to me with so sour a face.

Nurse	I am a-weary, give me leave awhile:
	Fie, how my bones ache! what a jaunt have I had!

JULIET	I would thou hadst my bones, and I thy news:
	Nay, come, I pray thee, speak; good, good nurse, speak.

Nurse	Jesu, what haste? can you not stay awhile?
	Do you not see that I am out of breath?

JULIET	How art thou out of breath, when thou hast breath
	To say to me that thou art out of breath?
	The excuse that thou dost make in this delay
	Is longer than the tale thou dost excuse.
	Is thy news good, or bad? answer to that;
	Say either, and I'll stay the circumstance:
	Let me be satisfied, is't good or bad?

Nurse	Well, you have made a simple choice; you know not
	how to choose a man: Romeo! no, not he; though his
	face be better than any man's, yet his leg excels
	all men's; and for a hand, and a foot, and a body,
	though they be not to be talked on, yet they are
	past compare: he is not the flower of courtesy,
	but, I'll warrant him, as gentle as a lamb. Go thy
	ways, wench; serve God. What, have you dined at home?

JULIET	No, no: but all this did I know before.
	What says he of our marriage? what of that?

Nurse	Lord, how my head aches! what a head have I!
	It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces.
	My back o' t' other side,--O, my back, my back!
	Beshrew your heart for sending me about,
	To catch my death with jaunting up and down!

JULIET	I' faith, I am sorry that thou art not well.
	Sweet, sweet, sweet nurse, tell me, what says my love?

Nurse	Your love says, like an honest gentleman, and a
	courteous, and a kind, and a handsome, and, I
	warrant, a virtuous,--Where is your mother?

JULIET	Where is my mother! why, she is within;
	Where should she be? How oddly thou repliest!
	'Your love says, like an honest gentleman,
	Where is your mother?'

Nurse	O God's lady dear!
	Are you so hot? marry, come up, I trow;
	Is this the poultice for my aching bones?
	Henceforward do your messages yourself.

JULIET	Here's such a coil! come, what says Romeo?

Nurse	Have you got leave to go to shrift to-day?

JULIET	I have.

Nurse	Then hie you hence to Friar Laurence' cell;
	There stays a husband to make you a wife:
	Now comes the wanton blood up in your cheeks,
	They'll be in scarlet straight at any news.
	Hie you to church; I must another way,
	To fetch a ladder, by the which your love
	Must climb a bird's nest soon when it is dark:
	I am the drudge and toil in your delight,
	But you shall bear the burden soon at night.
	Go; I'll to dinner: hie you to the cell.

JULIET	Hie to high fortune! Honest nurse, farewell.

	[Exeunt]




	ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT II



SCENE VI	Friar Laurence's cell.


	[Enter FRIAR LAURENCE and ROMEO]

FRIAR LAURENCE	So smile the heavens upon this holy act,
	That after hours with sorrow chide us not!

ROMEO	Amen, amen! but come what sorrow can,
	It cannot countervail the exchange of joy
	That one short minute gives me in her sight:
	Do thou but close our hands with holy words,
	Then love-devouring death do what he dare;
	It is enough I may but call her mine.

FRIAR LAURENCE	These violent delights have violent ends
	And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,
	Which as they kiss consume: the sweetest honey
	Is loathsome in his own deliciousness
	And in the taste confounds the appetite:
	Therefore love moderately; long love doth so;
	Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.

	[Enter JULIET]

	Here comes the lady: O, so light a foot
	Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint:
	A lover may bestride the gossamer
	That idles in the wanton summer air,
	And yet not fall; so light is vanity.

JULIET	Good even to my ghostly confessor.

FRIAR LAURENCE	Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, for us both.

JULIET	As much to him, else is his thanks too much.

ROMEO	Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy
	Be heap'd like mine and that thy skill be more
	To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath
	This neighbour air, and let rich music's tongue
	Unfold the imagined happiness that both
	Receive in either by this dear encounter.

JULIET	Conceit, more rich in matter than in words,
	Brags of his substance, not of ornament:
	They are but beggars that can count their worth;
	But my true love is grown to such excess
	I cannot sum up sum of half my wealth.

FRIAR LAURENCE	Come, come with me, and we will make short work;
	For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone
	Till holy church incorporate two in one.

	[Exeunt]




	ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT III



SCENE I	A public place.


	[Enter MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, Page, and Servants]

BENVOLIO	I pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire:
	The day is hot, the Capulets abroad,
	And, if we meet, we shall not scape a brawl;
	For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring.

MERCUTIO	Thou art like one of those fellows that when he
	enters the confines of a tavern claps me his sword
	upon the table and says 'God send me no need of
	thee!' and by the operation of the second cup draws
	it on the drawer, when indeed there is no need.

BENVOLIO	Am I like such a fellow?

MERCUTIO	Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy mood as
	any in Italy, and as soon moved to be moody, and as
	soon moody to be moved.

BENVOLIO	And what to?

MERCUTIO	Nay, an there were two such, we should have none
	shortly, for one would kill the other. Thou! why,
	thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath a hair more,
	or a hair less, in his beard, than thou hast: thou
	wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no
	other reason but because thou hast hazel eyes: what
	eye but such an eye would spy out such a quarrel?
	Thy head is as fun of quarrels as an egg is full of
	meat, and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as
	an egg for quarrelling: thou hast quarrelled with a
	man for coughing in the street, because he hath
	wakened thy dog that hath lain asleep in the sun:
	didst thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing
	his new doublet before Easter? with another, for
	tying his new shoes with old riband? and yet thou
	wilt tutor me from quarrelling!

BENVOLIO	An I were so apt to quarrel as thou art, any man
	should buy the fee-simple of my life for an hour and a quarter.

MERCUTIO	The fee-simple! O simple!

BENVOLIO	By my head, here come the Capulets.

MERCUTIO	By my heel, I care not.

	[Enter TYBALT and others]

TYBALT	Follow me close, for I will speak to them.
	Gentlemen, good den: a word with one of you.

MERCUTIO	And but one word with one of us? couple it with
	something; make it a word and a blow.

TYBALT	You shall find me apt enough to that, sir, an you
	will give me occasion.

MERCUTIO	Could you not take some occasion without giving?

TYBALT	Mercutio, thou consort'st with Romeo,--

MERCUTIO	Consort! what, dost thou make us minstrels? an
	thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but
	discords: here's my fiddlestick; here's that shall
	make you dance. 'Zounds, consort!

BENVOLIO	We talk here in the public haunt of men:
	Either withdraw unto some private place,
	And reason coldly of your grievances,
	Or else depart; here all eyes gaze on us.

MERCUTIO	Men's eyes were made to look, and let them gaze;
	I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I.

	[Enter ROMEO]

TYBALT	Well, peace be with you, sir: here comes my man.

MERCUTIO	But I'll be hanged, sir, if he wear your livery:
	Marry, go before to field, he'll be your follower;
	Your worship in that sense may call him 'man.'

TYBALT	Romeo, the hate I bear thee can afford
	No better term than this,--thou art a villain.

ROMEO	Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee
	Doth much excuse the appertaining rage
	To such a greeting: villain am I none;
	Therefore farewell; I see thou know'st me not.

TYBALT	Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries
	That thou hast done me; therefore turn and draw.

ROMEO	I do protest, I never injured thee,
	But love thee better than thou canst devise,
	Till thou shalt know the reason of my love:
	And so, good Capulet,--which name I tender
	As dearly as my own,--be satisfied.

MERCUTIO	O calm, dishonourable, vile submission!
	Alla stoccata carries it away.

	[Draws]

	Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk?

TYBALT	What wouldst thou have with me?

MERCUTIO	Good king of cats, nothing but one of your nine
	lives; that I mean to make bold withal, and as you
	shall use me hereafter, drybeat the rest of the
	eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his pitcher
	by the ears? make haste, lest mine be about your
	ears ere it be out.

TYBALT	I am for you.

	[Drawing]

ROMEO	Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up.

MERCUTIO	Come, sir, your passado.

	[They fight]

ROMEO	Draw, Benvolio; beat down their weapons.
	Gentlemen, for shame, forbear this outrage!
	Tybalt, Mercutio, the prince expressly hath
	Forbidden bandying in Verona streets:
	Hold, Tybalt! good Mercutio!

	[TYBALT under ROMEO's arm stabs MERCUTIO, and flies
	with his followers]

MERCUTIO	I am hurt.
	A plague o' both your houses! I am sped.
	Is he gone, and hath nothing?

BENVOLIO	What, art thou hurt?

MERCUTIO	Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch; marry, 'tis enough.
	Where is my page? Go, villain, fetch a surgeon.

	[Exit Page]

ROMEO	Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much.

MERCUTIO	No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a
	church-door; but 'tis enough,'twill serve: ask for
	me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave man. I
	am peppered, I warrant, for this world. A plague o'
	both your houses! 'Zounds, a dog, a rat, a mouse, a
	cat, to scratch a man to death! a braggart, a
	rogue, a villain, that fights by the book of
	arithmetic! Why the devil came you between us? I
	was hurt under your arm.

ROMEO	I thought all for the best.

MERCUTIO	Help me into some house, Benvolio,
	Or I shall faint. A plague o' both your houses!
	They have made worms' meat of me: I have it,
	And soundly too: your houses!

	[Exeunt MERCUTIO and BENVOLIO]

ROMEO	This gentleman, the prince's near ally,
	My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt
	In my behalf; my reputation stain'd
	With Tybalt's slander,--Tybalt, that an hour
	Hath been my kinsman! O sweet Juliet,
	Thy beauty hath made me effeminate
	And in my temper soften'd valour's steel!

	[Re-enter BENVOLIO]

BENVOLIO	O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead!
	That gallant spirit hath aspired the clouds,
	Which too untimely here did scorn the earth.

ROMEO	This day's black fate on more days doth depend;
	This but begins the woe, others must end.

BENVOLIO	Here comes the furious Tybalt back again.

ROMEO	Alive, in triumph! and Mercutio slain!
	Away to heaven, respective lenity,
	And fire-eyed fury be my conduct now!

	[Re-enter TYBALT]

	Now, Tybalt, take the villain back again,
	That late thou gavest me; for Mercutio's soul
	Is but a little way above our heads,
	Staying for thine to keep him company:
	Either thou, or I, or both, must go with him.

TYBALT	Thou, wretched boy, that didst consort him here,
	Shalt with him hence.

ROMEO	This shall determine that.

	[They fight; TYBALT falls]

BENVOLIO	Romeo, away, be gone!
	The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain.
	Stand not amazed: the prince will doom thee death,
	If thou art taken: hence, be gone, away!

ROMEO	O, I am fortune's fool!

BENVOLIO	Why dost thou stay?

	[Exit ROMEO]

	[Enter Citizens, &c]

First Citizen	Which way ran he that kill'd Mercutio?
	Tybalt, that murderer, which way ran he?

BENVOLIO	There lies that Tybalt.

First Citizen	Up, sir, go with me;
	I charge thee in the princes name, obey.

	[Enter Prince, attended; MONTAGUE, CAPULET, their
	Wives, and others]

PRINCE	Where are the vile beginners of this fray?

BENVOLIO	O noble prince, I can discover all
	The unlucky manage of this fatal brawl:
	There lies the man, slain by young Romeo,
	That slew thy kinsman, brave Mercutio.

LADY CAPULET	Tybalt, my cousin! O my brother's child!
	O prince! O cousin! husband! O, the blood is spilt
	O my dear kinsman! Prince, as thou art true,
	For blood of ours, shed blood of Montague.
	O cousin, cousin!

PRINCE	Benvolio, who began this bloody fray?

BENVOLIO	Tybalt, here slain, whom Romeo's hand did slay;
	Romeo that spoke him fair, bade him bethink
	How nice the quarrel was, and urged withal
	Your high displeasure: all this uttered
	With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly bow'd,
	Could not take truce with the unruly spleen
	Of Tybalt deaf to peace, but that he tilts
	With piercing steel at bold Mercutio's breast,
	Who all as hot, turns deadly point to point,
	And, with a martial scorn, with one hand beats
	Cold death aside, and with the other sends
	It back to Tybalt, whose dexterity,
	Retorts it: Romeo he cries aloud,
	'Hold, friends! friends, part!' and, swifter than
	his tongue,
	His agile arm beats down their fatal points,
	And 'twixt them rushes; underneath whose arm
	An envious thrust from Tybalt hit the life
	Of stout Mercutio, and then Tybalt fled;
	But by and by comes back to Romeo,
	Who had but newly entertain'd revenge,
	And to 't they go like lightning, for, ere I
	Could draw to part them, was stout Tybalt slain.
	And, as he fell, did Romeo turn and fly.
	This is the truth, or let Benvolio die.

LADY CAPULET	He is a kinsman to the Montague;
	Affection makes him false; he speaks not true:
	Some twenty of them fought in this black strife,
	And all those twenty could but kill one life.
	I beg for justice, which thou, prince, must give;
	Romeo slew Tybalt, Romeo must not live.

PRINCE	Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio;
	Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe?

MONTAGUE	Not Romeo, prince, he was Mercutio's friend;
	His fault concludes but what the law should end,
	The life of Tybalt.

PRINCE	And for that offence
	Immediately we do exile him hence:
	I have an interest in your hate's proceeding,
	My blood for your rude brawls doth lie a-bleeding;
	But I'll amerce you with so strong a fine
	That you shall all repent the loss of mine:
	I will be deaf to pleading and excuses;
	Nor tears nor prayers shall purchase out abuses:
	Therefore use none: let Romeo hence in haste,
	Else, when he's found, that hour is his last.
	Bear hence this body and attend our will:
	Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill.

	[Exeunt]




	ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT III



SCENE II	Capulet's orchard.


	[Enter JULIET]

JULIET	Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds,
	Towards Phoebus' lodging: such a wagoner
	As Phaethon would whip you to the west,
	And bring in cloudy night immediately.
	Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night,
	That runaway's eyes may wink and Romeo
	Leap to these arms, untalk'd of and unseen.
	Lovers can see to do their amorous rites
	By their own beauties; or, if love be blind,
	It best agrees with night. Come, civil night,
	Thou sober-suited matron, all in black,
	And learn me how to lose a winning match,
	Play'd for a pair of stainless maidenhoods:
	Hood my unmann'd blood, bating in my cheeks,
	With thy black mantle; till strange love, grown bold,
	Think true love acted simple modesty.
	Come, night; come, Romeo; come, thou day in night;
	For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night
	Whiter than new snow on a raven's back.
	Come, gentle night, come, loving, black-brow'd night,
	Give me my Romeo; and, when he shall die,
	Take him and cut him out in little stars,
	And he will make the face of heaven so fine
	That all the world will be in love with night
	And pay no worship to the garish sun.
	O, I have bought the mansion of a love,
	But not possess'd it, and, though I am sold,
	Not yet enjoy'd: so tedious is this day
	As is the night before some festival
	To an impatient child that hath new robes
	And may not wear them. O, here comes my nurse,
	And she brings news; and every tongue that speaks
	But Romeo's name speaks heavenly eloquence.

	[Enter Nurse, with cords]

	Now, nurse, what news? What hast thou there? the cords
	That Romeo bid thee fetch?

Nurse	Ay, ay, the cords.

	[Throws them down]

JULIET	Ay me! what news? why dost thou wring thy hands?

Nurse	Ah, well-a-day! he's dead, he's dead, he's dead!
	We are undone, lady, we are undone!
	Alack the day! he's gone, he's kill'd, he's dead!

JULIET	Can heaven be so envious?

Nurse	Romeo can,
	Though heaven cannot: O Romeo, Romeo!
	Who ever would have thought it? Romeo!

JULIET	What devil art thou, that dost torment me thus?
	This torture should be roar'd in dismal hell.
	Hath Romeo slain himself? say thou but 'I,'
	And that bare vowel 'I' shall poison more
	Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice:
	I am not I, if there be such an I;
	Or those eyes shut, that make thee answer 'I.'
	If he be slain, say 'I'; or if not, no:
	Brief sounds determine of my weal or woe.

Nurse	I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes,--
	God save the mark!--here on his manly breast:
	A piteous corse, a bloody piteous corse;
	Pale, pale as ashes, all bedaub'd in blood,
	All in gore-blood; I swounded at the sight.

JULIET	O, break, my heart! poor bankrupt, break at once!
	To prison, eyes, ne'er look on liberty!
	Vile earth, to earth resign; end motion here;
	And thou and Romeo press one heavy bier!

Nurse	O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had!
	O courteous Tybalt! honest gentleman!
	That ever I should live to see thee dead!

JULIET	What storm is this that blows so contrary?
	Is Romeo slaughter'd, and is Tybalt dead?
	My dear-loved cousin, and my dearer lord?
	Then, dreadful trumpet, sound the general doom!
	For who is living, if those two are gone?

Nurse	Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished;
	Romeo that kill'd him, he is banished.

JULIET	O God! did Romeo's hand shed Tybalt's blood?

Nurse	It did, it did; alas the day, it did!

JULIET	O serpent heart, hid with a flowering face!
	Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave?
	Beautiful tyrant! fiend angelical!
	Dove-feather'd raven! wolvish-ravening lamb!
	Despised substance of divinest show!
	Just opposite to what thou justly seem'st,
	A damned saint, an honourable villain!
	O nature, what hadst thou to do in hell,
	When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend
	In moral paradise of such sweet flesh?
	Was ever book containing such vile matter
	So fairly bound? O that deceit should dwell
	In such a gorgeous palace!

Nurse	There's no trust,
	No faith, no honesty in men; all perjured,
	All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers.
	Ah, where's my man? give me some aqua vitae:
	These griefs, these woes, these sorrows make me old.
	Shame come to Romeo!

JULIET	Blister'd be thy tongue
	For such a wish! he was not born to shame:
	Upon his brow shame is ashamed to sit;
	For 'tis a throne where honour may be crown'd
	Sole monarch of the universal earth.
	O, what a beast was I to chide at him!

Nurse	Will you speak well of him that kill'd your cousin?

JULIET	Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband?
	Ah, poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name,
	When I, thy three-hours wife, have mangled it?
	But, wherefore, villain, didst thou kill my cousin?
	That villain cousin would have kill'd my husband:
	Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring;
	Your tributary drops belong to woe,
	Which you, mistaking, offer up to joy.
	My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain;
	And Tybalt's dead, that would have slain my husband:
	All this is comfort; wherefore weep I then?
	Some word there was, worser than Tybalt's death,
	That murder'd me: I would forget it fain;
	But, O, it presses to my memory,
	Like damned guilty deeds to sinners' minds:
	'Tybalt is dead, and Romeo--banished;'
	That 'banished,' that one word 'banished,'
	Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts. Tybalt's death
	Was woe enough, if it had ended there:
	Or, if sour woe delights in fellowship
	And needly will be rank'd with other griefs,
	Why follow'd not, when she said 'Tybalt's dead,'
	Thy father, or thy mother, nay, or both,
	Which modern lamentations might have moved?
	But with a rear-ward following Tybalt's death,
	'Romeo is banished,' to speak that word,
	Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet,
	All slain, all dead. 'Romeo is banished!'
	There is no end, no limit, measure, bound,
	In that word's death; no words can that woe sound.
	Where is my father, and my mother, nurse?

Nurse	Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's corse:
	Will you go to them? I will bring you thither.

JULIET	Wash they his wounds with tears: mine shall be spent,
	When theirs are dry, for Romeo's banishment.
	Take up those cords: poor ropes, you are beguiled,
	Both you and I; for Romeo is exiled:
	He made you for a highway to my bed;
	But I, a maid, die maiden-widowed.
	Come, cords, come, nurse; I'll to my wedding-bed;
	And death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead!

Nurse	Hie to your chamber: I'll find Romeo
	To comfort you: I wot well where he is.
	Hark ye, your Romeo will be here at night:
	I'll to him; he is hid at Laurence' cell.

JULIET	O, find him! give this ring to my true knight,
	And bid him come to take his last farewell.

	[Exeunt]




	ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT III



SCENE III	Friar Laurence's cell.


	[Enter FRIAR LAURENCE]

FRIAR LAURENCE	Romeo, come forth; come forth, thou fearful man:
	Affliction is enamour'd of thy parts,
	And thou art wedded to calamity.

	[Enter ROMEO]

ROMEO	Father, what news? what is the prince's doom?
	What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand,
	That I yet know not?

FRIAR LAURENCE	Too familiar
	Is my dear son with such sour company:
	I bring thee tidings of the prince's doom.

ROMEO	What less than dooms-day is the prince's doom?

FRIAR LAURENCE	A gentler judgment vanish'd from his lips,
	Not body's death, but body's banishment.

ROMEO	Ha, banishment! be merciful, say 'death;'
	For exile hath more terror in his look,
	Much more than death: do not say 'banishment.'

FRIAR LAURENCE	Hence from Verona art thou banished:
	Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.

ROMEO	There is no world without Verona walls,
	But purgatory, torture, hell itself.
	Hence-banished is banish'd from the world,
	And world's exile is death: then banished,
	Is death mis-term'd: calling death banishment,
	Thou cutt'st my head off with a golden axe,
	And smilest upon the stroke that murders me.

FRIAR LAURENCE	O deadly sin! O rude unthankfulness!
	Thy fault our law calls death; but the kind prince,
	Taking thy part, hath rush'd aside the law,
	And turn'd that black word death to banishment:
	This is dear mercy, and thou seest it not.

ROMEO	'Tis torture, and not mercy: heaven is here,
	Where Juliet lives; and every cat and dog
	And little mouse, every unworthy thing,
	Live here in heaven and may look on her;
	But Romeo may not: more validity,
	More honourable state, more courtship lives
	In carrion-flies than Romeo: they my seize
	On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand
	And steal immortal blessing from her lips,
	Who even in pure and vestal modesty,
	Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin;
	But Romeo may not; he is banished:
	Flies may do this, but I from this must fly:
	They are free men, but I am banished.
	And say'st thou yet that exile is not death?
	Hadst thou no poison mix'd, no sharp-ground knife,
	No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean,
	But 'banished' to kill me?--'banished'?
	O friar, the damned use that word in hell;
	Howlings attend it: how hast thou the heart,
	Being a divine, a ghostly confessor,
	A sin-absolver, and my friend profess'd,
	To mangle me with that word 'banished'?

FRIAR LAURENCE	Thou fond mad man, hear me but speak a word.

ROMEO	O, thou wilt speak again of banishment.

FRIAR LAURENCE	I'll give thee armour to keep off that word:
	Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy,
	To comfort thee, though thou art banished.

ROMEO	Yet 'banished'? Hang up philosophy!
	Unless philosophy can make a Juliet,
	Displant a town, reverse a prince's doom,
	It helps not, it prevails not: talk no more.

FRIAR LAURENCE	O, then I see that madmen have no ears.

ROMEO	How should they, when that wise men have no eyes?

FRIAR LAURENCE	Let me dispute with thee of thy estate.

ROMEO	Thou canst not speak of that thou dost not feel:
	Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love,
	An hour but married, Tybalt murdered,
	Doting like me and like me banished,
	Then mightst thou speak, then mightst thou tear thy hair,
	And fall upon the ground, as I do now,
	Taking the measure of an unmade grave.

	[Knocking within]

FRIAR LAURENCE	Arise; one knocks; good Romeo, hide thyself.

ROMEO	Not I; unless the breath of heartsick groans,
	Mist-like, infold me from the search of eyes.

	[Knocking]

FRIAR LAURENCE	Hark, how they knock! Who's there? Romeo, arise;
	Thou wilt be taken. Stay awhile! Stand up;

	[Knocking]

	Run to my study. By and by! God's will,
	What simpleness is this! I come, I come!

	[Knocking]

	Who knocks so hard? whence come you? what's your will?

Nurse	[Within]  Let me come in, and you shall know
	my errand;
	I come from Lady Juliet.

FRIAR LAURENCE	Welcome, then.

	[Enter Nurse]

Nurse	O holy friar, O, tell me, holy friar,
	Where is my lady's lord, where's Romeo?

FRIAR LAURENCE	There on the ground, with his own tears made drunk.

Nurse	O, he is even in my mistress' case,
	Just in her case! O woful sympathy!
	Piteous predicament! Even so lies she,
	Blubbering and weeping, weeping and blubbering.
	Stand up, stand up; stand, and you be a man:
	For Juliet's sake, for her sake, rise and stand;
	Why should you fall into so deep an O?

ROMEO	Nurse!

Nurse	Ah sir! ah sir! Well, death's the end of all.

ROMEO	Spakest thou of Juliet? how is it with her?
	Doth she not think me an old murderer,
	Now I have stain'd the childhood of our joy
	With blood removed but little from her own?
	Where is she? and how doth she? and what says
	My conceal'd lady to our cancell'd love?

Nurse	O, she says nothing, sir, but weeps and weeps;
	And now falls on her bed; and then starts up,
	And Tybalt calls; and then on Romeo cries,
	And then down falls again.

ROMEO	As if that name,
	Shot from the deadly level of a gun,
	Did murder her; as that name's cursed hand
	Murder'd her kinsman. O, tell me, friar, tell me,
	In what vile part of this anatomy
	Doth my name lodge? tell me, that I may sack
	The hateful mansion.

	[Drawing his sword]

FRIAR LAURENCE	Hold thy desperate hand:
	Art thou a man? thy form cries out thou art:
	Thy tears are womanish; thy wild acts denote
	The unreasonable fury of a beast:
	Unseemly woman in a seeming man!
	Or ill-beseeming beast in seeming both!
	Thou hast amazed me: by my holy order,
	I thought thy disposition better temper'd.
	Hast thou slain Tybalt? wilt thou slay thyself?
	And stay thy lady too that lives in thee,
	By doing damned hate upon thyself?
	Why rail'st thou on thy birth, the heaven, and earth?
	Since birth, and heaven, and earth, all three do meet
	In thee at once; which thou at once wouldst lose.
	Fie, fie, thou shamest thy shape, thy love, thy wit;
	Which, like a usurer, abound'st in all,
	And usest none in that true use indeed
	Which should bedeck thy shape, thy love, thy wit:
	Thy noble shape is but a form of wax,
	Digressing from the valour of a man;
	Thy dear love sworn but hollow perjury,
	Killing that love which thou hast vow'd to cherish;
	Thy wit, that ornament to shape and love,
	Misshapen in the conduct of them both,
	Like powder in a skitless soldier's flask,
	Is set afire by thine own ignorance,
	And thou dismember'd with thine own defence.
	What, rouse thee, man! thy Juliet is alive,
	For whose dear sake thou wast but lately dead;
	There art thou happy: Tybalt would kill thee,
	But thou slew'st Tybalt; there are thou happy too:
	The law that threaten'd death becomes thy friend
	And turns it to exile; there art thou happy:
	A pack of blessings lights up upon thy back;
	Happiness courts thee in her best array;
	But, like a misbehaved and sullen wench,
	Thou pout'st upon thy fortune and thy love:
	Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable.
	Go, get thee to thy love, as was decreed,
	Ascend her chamber, hence and comfort her:
	But look thou stay not till the watch be set,
	For then thou canst not pass to Mantua;
	Where thou shalt live, till we can find a time
	To blaze your marriage, reconcile your friends,
	Beg pardon of the prince, and call thee back
	With twenty hundred thousand times more joy
	Than thou went'st forth in lamentation.
	Go before, nurse: commend me to thy lady;
	And bid her hasten all the house to bed,
	Which heavy sorrow makes them apt unto:
	Romeo is coming.

Nurse	O Lord, I could have stay'd here all the night
	To hear good counsel: O, what learning is!
	My lord, I'll tell my lady you will come.

ROMEO	Do so, and bid my sweet prepare to chide.

Nurse	Here, sir, a ring she bid me give you, sir:
	Hie you, make haste, for it grows very late.

	[Exit]

ROMEO	How well my comfort is revived by this!

FRIAR LAURENCE	Go hence; good night; and here stands all your state:
	Either be gone before the watch be set,
	Or by the break of day disguised from hence:
	Sojourn in Mantua; I'll find out your man,
	And he shall signify from time to time
	Every good hap to you that chances here:
	Give me thy hand; 'tis late: farewell; good night.

ROMEO	But that a joy past joy calls out on me,
	It were a grief, so brief to part with thee: Farewell.

	[Exeunt]




	ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT III



SCENE IV	A room in Capulet's house.


	[Enter CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, and PARIS]

CAPULET	Things have fall'n out, sir, so unluckily,
	That we have had no time to move our daughter:
	Look you, she loved her kinsman Tybalt dearly,
	And so did I:--Well, we were born to die.
	'Tis very late, she'll not come down to-night:
	I promise you, but for your company,
	I would have been a-bed an hour ago.

PARIS	These times of woe afford no time to woo.
	Madam, good night: commend me to your daughter.

LADY CAPULET	I will, and know her mind early to-morrow;
	To-night she is mew'd up to her heaviness.

CAPULET	Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender
	Of my child's love: I think she will be ruled
	In all respects by me; nay, more, I doubt it not.
	Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed;
	Acquaint her here of my son Paris' love;
	And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday next--
	But, soft! what day is this?

PARIS	Monday, my lord,

CAPULET	Monday! ha, ha! Well, Wednesday is too soon,
	O' Thursday let it be: o' Thursday, tell her,
	She shall be married to this noble earl.
	Will you be ready? do you like this haste?
	We'll keep no great ado,--a friend or two;
	For, hark you, Tybalt being slain so late,
	It may be thought we held him carelessly,
	Being our kinsman, if we revel much:
	Therefore we'll have some half a dozen friends,
	And there an end. But what say you to Thursday?

PARIS	My lord, I would that Thursday were to-morrow.

CAPULET	Well get you gone: o' Thursday be it, then.
	Go you to Juliet ere you go to bed,
	Prepare her, wife, against this wedding-day.
	Farewell, my lord. Light to my chamber, ho!
	Afore me! it is so very very late,
	That we may call it early by and by.
	Good night.

	[Exeunt]




	ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT III



SCENE V	Capulet's orchard.


	[Enter ROMEO and JULIET above, at the window]

JULIET	Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day:
	It was the nightingale, and not the lark,
	That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear;
	Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate-tree:
	Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.

ROMEO	It was the lark, the herald of the morn,
	No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks
	Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east:
	Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day
	Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops.
	I must be gone and live, or stay and die.

JULIET	Yon light is not day-light, I know it, I:
	It is some meteor that the sun exhales,
	To be to thee this night a torch-bearer,
	And light thee on thy way to Mantua:
	Therefore stay yet; thou need'st not to be gone.

ROMEO	Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death;
	I am content, so thou wilt have it so.
	I'll say yon grey is not the morning's eye,
	'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow;
	Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat
	The vaulty heaven so high above our heads:
	I have more care to stay than will to go:
	Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so.
	How is't, my soul? let's talk; it is not day.

JULIET	It is, it is: hie hence, be gone, away!
	It is the lark that sings so out of tune,
	Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps.
	Some say the lark makes sweet division;
	This doth not so, for she divideth us:
	Some say the lark and loathed toad change eyes,
	O, now I would they had changed voices too!
	Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray,
	Hunting thee hence with hunt's-up to the day,
	O, now be gone; more light and light it grows.

ROMEO	More light and light; more dark and dark our woes!

	[Enter Nurse, to the chamber]

Nurse	Madam!

JULIET	Nurse?

Nurse	Your lady mother is coming to your chamber:
	The day is broke; be wary, look about.

	[Exit]

JULIET	Then, window, let day in, and let life out.

ROMEO	Farewell, farewell! one kiss, and I'll descend.

	[He goeth down]

JULIET	Art thou gone so? love, lord, ay, husband, friend!
	I must hear from thee every day in the hour,
	For in a minute there are many days:
	O, by this count I shall be much in years
	Ere I again behold my Romeo!

ROMEO	Farewell!
	I will omit no opportunity
	That may convey my greetings, love, to thee.

JULIET	O think'st thou we shall ever meet again?

ROMEO	I doubt it not; and all these woes shall serve
	For sweet discourses in our time to come.

JULIET	O God, I have an ill-divining soul!
	Methinks I see thee, now thou art below,
	As one dead in the bottom of a tomb:
	Either my eyesight fails, or thou look'st pale.

ROMEO	And trust me, love, in my eye so do you:
	Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu, adieu!

	[Exit]

JULIET	O fortune, fortune! all men call thee fickle:
	If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him.
	That is renown'd for faith? Be fickle, fortune;
	For then, I hope, thou wilt not keep him long,
	But send him back.

LADY CAPULET	[Within]         Ho, daughter! are you up?

JULIET	Who is't that calls? is it my lady mother?
	Is she not down so late, or up so early?
	What unaccustom'd cause procures her hither?

	[Enter LADY CAPULET]

LADY CAPULET	Why, how now, Juliet!

JULIET	Madam, I am not well.

LADY CAPULET	Evermore weeping for your cousin's death?
	What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears?
	An if thou couldst, thou couldst not make him live;
	Therefore, have done: some grief shows much of love;
	But much of grief shows still some want of wit.

JULIET	Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss.

LADY CAPULET	So shall you feel the loss, but not the friend
	Which you weep for.

JULIET	Feeling so the loss,
	Cannot choose but ever weep the friend.

LADY CAPULET	Well, girl, thou weep'st not so much for his death,
	As that the villain lives which slaughter'd him.

JULIET	What villain madam?

LADY CAPULET	That same villain, Romeo.

JULIET	[Aside]  Villain and he be many miles asunder.--
	God Pardon him! I do, with all my heart;
	And yet no man like he doth grieve my heart.

LADY CAPULET	That is, because the traitor murderer lives.

JULIET	Ay, madam, from the reach of these my hands:
	Would none but I might venge my cousin's death!

LADY CAPULET	We will have vengeance for it, fear thou not:
	Then weep no more. I'll send to one in Mantua,
	Where that same banish'd runagate doth live,
	Shall give him such an unaccustom'd dram,
	That he shall soon keep Tybalt company:
	And then, I hope, thou wilt be satisfied.

JULIET	Indeed, I never shall be satisfied
	With Romeo, till I behold him--dead--
	Is my poor heart for a kinsman vex'd.
	Madam, if you could find out but a man
	To bear a poison, I would temper it;
	That Romeo should, upon receipt thereof,
	Soon sleep in quiet. O, how my heart abhors
	To hear him named, and cannot come to him.
	To wreak the love I bore my cousin
	Upon his body that slaughter'd him!

LADY CAPULET	Find thou the means, and I'll find such a man.
	But now I'll tell thee joyful tidings, girl.

JULIET	And joy comes well in such a needy time:
	What are they, I beseech your ladyship?

LADY CAPULET	Well, well, thou hast a careful father, child;
	One who, to put thee from thy heaviness,
	Hath sorted out a sudden day of joy,
	That thou expect'st not nor I look'd not for.

JULIET	Madam, in happy time, what day is that?

LADY CAPULET	Marry, my child, early next Thursday morn,
	The gallant, young and noble gentleman,
	The County Paris, at Saint Peter's Church,
	Shall happily make thee there a joyful bride.

JULIET	Now, by Saint Peter's Church and Peter too,
	He shall not make me there a joyful bride.
	I wonder at this haste; that I must wed
	Ere he, that should be husband, comes to woo.
	I pray you, tell my lord and father, madam,
	I will not marry yet; and, when I do, I swear,
	It shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate,
	Rather than Paris. These are news indeed!

LADY CAPULET	Here comes your father; tell him so yourself,
	And see how he will take it at your hands.

	[Enter CAPULET and Nurse]

CAPULET	When the sun sets, the air doth drizzle dew;
	But for the sunset of my brother's son
	It rains downright.
	How now! a conduit, girl? what, still in tears?
	Evermore showering? In one little body
	Thou counterfeit'st a bark, a sea, a wind;
	For still thy eyes, which I may call the sea,
	Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy body is,
	Sailing in this salt flood; the winds, thy sighs;
	Who, raging with thy tears, and they with them,
	Without a sudden calm, will overset
	Thy tempest-tossed body. How now, wife!
	Have you deliver'd to her our decree?

LADY CAPULET	Ay, sir; but she will none, she gives you thanks.
	I would the fool were married to her grave!

CAPULET	Soft! take me with you, take me with you, wife.
	How! will she none? doth she not give us thanks?
	Is she not proud? doth she not count her blest,
	Unworthy as she is, that we have wrought
	So worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroom?

JULIET	Not proud, you have; but thankful, that you have:
	Proud can I never be of what I hate;
	But thankful even for hate, that is meant love.

CAPULET	How now, how now, chop-logic! What is this?
	'Proud,' and 'I thank you,' and 'I thank you not;'
	And yet 'not proud,' mistress minion, you,
	Thank me no thankings, nor, proud me no prouds,
	But fettle your fine joints 'gainst Thursday next,
	To go with Paris to Saint Peter's Church,
	Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither.
	Out, you green-sickness carrion! out, you baggage!
	You tallow-face!

LADY CAPULET	                  Fie, fie! what, are you mad?

JULIET	Good father, I beseech you on my knees,
	Hear me with patience but to speak a word.

CAPULET	Hang thee, young baggage! disobedient wretch!
	I tell thee what: get thee to church o' Thursday,
	Or never after look me in the face:
	Speak not, reply not, do not answer me;
	My fingers itch. Wife, we scarce thought us blest
	That God had lent us but this only child;
	But now I see this one is one too much,
	And that we have a curse in having her:
	Out on her, hilding!

Nurse	God in heaven bless her!
	You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so.

CAPULET	And why, my lady wisdom? hold your tongue,
	Good prudence; smatter with your gossips, go.

Nurse	I speak no treason.

CAPULET	O, God ye god-den.

Nurse	May not one speak?

CAPULET	                  Peace, you mumbling fool!
	Utter your gravity o'er a gossip's bowl;
	For here we need it not.

LADY CAPULET	You are too hot.

CAPULET	God's bread! it makes me mad:
	Day, night, hour, tide, time, work, play,
	Alone, in company, still my care hath been
	To have her match'd: and having now provided
	A gentleman of noble parentage,
	Of fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly train'd,
	Stuff'd, as they say, with honourable parts,
	Proportion'd as one's thought would wish a man;
	And then to have a wretched puling fool,
	A whining mammet, in her fortune's tender,
	To answer 'I'll not wed; I cannot love,
	I am too young; I pray you, pardon me.'
	But, as you will not wed, I'll pardon you:
	Graze where you will you shall not house with me:
	Look to't, think on't, I do not use to jest.
	Thursday is near; lay hand on heart, advise:
	An you be mine, I'll give you to my friend;
	And you be not, hang, beg, starve, die in
	the streets,
	For, by my soul, I'll ne'er acknowledge thee,
	Nor what is mine shall never do thee good:
	Trust to't, bethink you; I'll not be forsworn.

	[Exit]

JULIET	Is there no pity sitting in the clouds,
	That sees into the bottom of my grief?
	O, sweet my mother, cast me not away!
	Delay this marriage for a month, a week;
	Or, if you do not, make the bridal bed
	In that dim monument where Tybalt lies.

LADY CAPULET	Talk not to me, for I'll not speak a word:
	Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee.

	[Exit]

JULIET	O God!--O nurse, how shall this be prevented?
	My husband is on earth, my faith in heaven;
	How shall that faith return again to earth,
	Unless that husband send it me from heaven
	By leaving earth? comfort me, counsel me.
	Alack, alack, that heaven should practise stratagems
	Upon so soft a subject as myself!
	What say'st thou? hast thou not a word of joy?
	Some comfort, nurse.

Nurse	Faith, here it is.
	Romeo is banish'd; and all the world to nothing,
	That he dares ne'er come back to challenge you;
	Or, if he do, it needs must be by stealth.
	Then, since the case so stands as now it doth,
	I think it best you married with the county.
	O, he's a lovely gentleman!
	Romeo's a dishclout to him: an eagle, madam,
	Hath not so green, so quick, so fair an eye
	As Paris hath. Beshrew my very heart,
	I think you are happy in this second match,
	For it excels your first: or if it did not,
	Your first is dead; or 'twere as good he were,
	As living here and you no use of him.

JULIET	Speakest thou from thy heart?

Nurse	And from my soul too;
	Or else beshrew them both.

JULIET	Amen!

Nurse	What?

JULIET	Well, thou hast comforted me marvellous much.
	Go in: and tell my lady I am gone,
	Having displeased my father, to Laurence' cell,
	To make confession and to be absolved.

Nurse	Marry, I will; and this is wisely done.

	[Exit]

JULIET	Ancient damnation! O most wicked fiend!
	Is it more sin to wish me thus forsworn,
	Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue
	Which she hath praised him with above compare
	So many thousand times? Go, counsellor;
	Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twain.
	I'll to the friar, to know his remedy:
	If all else fail, myself have power to die.

	[Exit]




	ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT IV



SCENE I	Friar Laurence's cell.


	[Enter FRIAR LAURENCE and PARIS]

FRIAR LAURENCE	On Thursday, sir? the time is very short.

PARIS	My father Capulet will have it so;
	And I am nothing slow to slack his haste.

FRIAR LAURENCE	You say you do not know the lady's mind:
	Uneven is the course, I like it not.

PARIS	Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death,
	And therefore have I little talk'd of love;
	For Venus smiles not in a house of tears.
	Now, sir, her father counts it dangerous
	That she doth give her sorrow so much sway,
	And in his wisdom hastes our marriage,
	To stop the inundation of her tears;
	Which, too much minded by herself alone,
	May be put from her by society:
	Now do you know the reason of this haste.

FRIAR LAURENCE	[Aside]  I would I knew not why it should be slow'd.
	Look, sir, here comes the lady towards my cell.

	[Enter JULIET]

PARIS	Happily met, my lady and my wife!

JULIET	That may be, sir, when I may be a wife.

PARIS	That may be must be, love, on Thursday next.

JULIET	What must be shall be.

FRIAR LAURENCE	That's a certain text.

PARIS	Come you to make confession to this father?

JULIET	To answer that, I should confess to you.

PARIS	Do not deny to him that you love me.

JULIET	I will confess to you that I love him.

PARIS	So will ye, I am sure, that you love me.

JULIET	If I do so, it will be of more price,
	Being spoke behind your back, than to your face.

PARIS	Poor soul, thy face is much abused with tears.

JULIET	The tears have got small victory by that;
	For it was bad enough before their spite.

PARIS	Thou wrong'st it, more than tears, with that report.

JULIET	That is no slander, sir, which is a truth;
	And what I spake, I spake it to my face.

PARIS	Thy face is mine, and thou hast slander'd it.

JULIET	It may be so, for it is not mine own.
	Are you at leisure, holy father, now;
	Or shall I come to you at evening mass?

FRIAR LAURENCE	My leisure serves me, pensive daughter, now.
	My lord, we must entreat the time alone.

PARIS	God shield I should disturb devotion!
	Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse ye:
	Till then, adieu; and keep this holy kiss.

	[Exit]

JULIET	O shut the door! and when thou hast done so,
	Come weep with me; past hope, past cure, past help!

FRIAR LAURENCE	Ah, Juliet, I already know thy grief;
	It strains me past the compass of my wits:
	I hear thou must, and nothing may prorogue it,
	On Thursday next be married to this county.

JULIET	Tell me not, friar, that thou hear'st of this,
	Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it:
	If, in thy wisdom, thou canst give no help,
	Do thou but call my resolution wise,
	And with this knife I'll help it presently.
	God join'd my heart and Romeo's, thou our hands;
	And ere this hand, by thee to Romeo seal'd,
	Shall be the label to another deed,
	Or my true heart with treacherous revolt
	Turn to another, this shall slay them both:
	Therefore, out of thy long-experienced time,
	Give me some present counsel, or, behold,
	'Twixt my extremes and me this bloody knife
	Shall play the umpire, arbitrating that
	Which the commission of thy years and art
	Could to no issue of true honour bring.
	Be not so long to speak; I long to die,
	If what thou speak'st speak not of remedy.

FRIAR LAURENCE	Hold, daughter: I do spy a kind of hope,
	Which craves as desperate an execution.
	As that is desperate which we would prevent.
	If, rather than to marry County Paris,
	Thou hast the strength of will to slay thyself,
	Then is it likely thou wilt undertake
	A thing like death to chide away this shame,
	That copest with death himself to scape from it:
	And, if thou darest, I'll give thee remedy.

JULIET	O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris,
	From off the battlements of yonder tower;
	Or walk in thievish ways; or bid me lurk
	Where serpents are; chain me with roaring bears;
	Or shut me nightly in a charnel-house,
	O'er-cover'd quite with dead men's rattling bones,
	With reeky shanks and yellow chapless skulls;
	Or bid me go into a new-made grave
	And hide me with a dead man in his shroud;
	Things that, to hear them told, have made me tremble;
	And I will do it without fear or doubt,
	To live an unstain'd wife to my sweet love.

FRIAR LAURENCE	Hold, then; go home, be merry, give consent
	To marry Paris: Wednesday is to-morrow:
	To-morrow night look that thou lie alone;
	Let not thy nurse lie with thee in thy chamber:
	Take thou this vial, being then in bed,
	And this distilled liquor drink thou off;
	When presently through all thy veins shall run
	A cold and drowsy humour, for no pulse
	Shall keep his native progress, but surcease:
	No warmth, no breath, shall testify thou livest;
	The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade
	To paly ashes, thy eyes' windows fall,
	Like death, when he shuts up the day of life;
	Each part, deprived of supple government,
	Shall, stiff and stark and cold, appear like death:
	And in this borrow'd likeness of shrunk death
	Thou shalt continue two and forty hours,
	And then awake as from a pleasant sleep.
	Now, when the bridegroom in the morning comes
	To rouse thee from thy bed, there art thou dead:
	Then, as the manner of our country is,
	In thy best robes uncover'd on the bier
	Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault
	Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie.
	In the mean time, against thou shalt awake,
	Shall Romeo by my letters know our drift,
	And hither shall he come: and he and I
	Will watch thy waking, and that very night
	Shall Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua.
	And this shall free thee from this present shame;
	If no inconstant toy, nor womanish fear,
	Abate thy valour in the acting it.

JULIET	Give me, give me! O, tell not me of fear!

FRIAR LAURENCE	Hold; get you gone, be strong and prosperous
	In this resolve: I'll send a friar with speed
	To Mantua, with my letters to thy lord.

JULIET	Love give me strength! and strength shall help afford.
	Farewell, dear father!

	[Exeunt]




	ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT IV



SCENE II	Hall in Capulet's house.


	[Enter CAPULET, LADY  CAPULET, Nurse, and two
	Servingmen]

CAPULET	So many guests invite as here are writ.

	[Exit First Servant]

	Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning cooks.

Second Servant	You shall have none ill, sir; for I'll try if they
	can lick their fingers.

CAPULET	How canst thou try them so?

Second Servant	Marry, sir, 'tis an ill cook that cannot lick his
	own fingers: therefore he that cannot lick his
	fingers goes not with me.

CAPULET	Go, be gone.

	[Exit Second Servant]

	We shall be much unfurnished for this time.
	What, is my daughter gone to Friar Laurence?

Nurse	Ay, forsooth.

CAPULET	Well, he may chance to do some good on her:
	A peevish self-will'd harlotry it is.

Nurse	See where she comes from shrift with merry look.

	[Enter JULIET]

CAPULET	How now, my headstrong! where have you been gadding?

JULIET	Where I have learn'd me to repent the sin
	Of disobedient opposition
	To you and your behests, and am enjoin'd
	By holy Laurence to fall prostrate here,
	And beg your pardon: pardon, I beseech you!
	Henceforward I am ever ruled by you.

CAPULET	Send for the county; go tell him of this:
	I'll have this knot knit up to-morrow morning.

JULIET	I met the youthful lord at Laurence' cell;
	And gave him what becomed love I might,
	Not step o'er the bounds of modesty.

CAPULET	Why, I am glad on't; this is well: stand up:
	This is as't should be. Let me see the county;
	Ay, marry, go, I say, and fetch him hither.
	Now, afore God! this reverend holy friar,
	Our whole city is much bound to him.

JULIET	Nurse, will you go with me into my closet,
	To help me sort such needful ornaments
	As you think fit to furnish me to-morrow?

LADY CAPULET	No, not till Thursday; there is time enough.

CAPULET	Go, nurse, go with her: we'll to church to-morrow.

	[Exeunt JULIET and Nurse]

LADY  CAPULET	We shall be short in our provision:
	'Tis now near night.

CAPULET	Tush, I will stir about,
	And all things shall be well, I warrant thee, wife:
	Go thou to Juliet, help to deck up her;
	I'll not to bed to-night; let me alone;
	I'll play the housewife for this once. What, ho!
	They are all forth. Well, I will walk myself
	To County Paris, to prepare him up
	Against to-morrow: my heart is wondrous light,
	Since this same wayward girl is so reclaim'd.

	[Exeunt]




	ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT IV



SCENE III	Juliet's chamber.


	[Enter JULIET and Nurse]

JULIET	Ay, those attires are best: but, gentle nurse,
	I pray thee, leave me to myself to-night,
	For I have need of many orisons
	To move the heavens to smile upon my state,
	Which, well thou know'st, is cross, and full of sin.

	[Enter LADY CAPULET]

LADY CAPULET	What, are you busy, ho? need you my help?

JULIET	No, madam; we have cull'd such necessaries
	As are behoveful for our state to-morrow:
	So please you, let me now be left alone,
	And let the nurse this night sit up with you;
	For, I am sure, you have your hands full all,
	In this so sudden business.

LADY CAPULET	Good night:
	Get thee to bed, and rest; for thou hast need.

	[Exeunt LADY CAPULET and Nurse]

JULIET	Farewell! God knows when we shall meet again.
	I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins,
	That almost freezes up the heat of life:
	I'll call them back again to comfort me:
	Nurse! What should she do here?
	My dismal scene I needs must act alone.
	Come, vial.
	What if this mixture do not work at all?
	Shall I be married then to-morrow morning?
	No, no: this shall forbid it: lie thou there.

	[Laying down her dagger]

	What if it be a poison, which the friar
	Subtly hath minister'd to have me dead,
	Lest in this marriage he should be dishonour'd,
	Because he married me before to Romeo?
	I fear it is: and yet, methinks, it should not,
	For he hath still been tried a holy man.
	How if, when I am laid into the tomb,
	I wake before the time that Romeo
	Come to redeem me? there's a fearful point!
	Shall I not, then, be stifled in the vault,
	To whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes in,
	And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes?
	Or, if I live, is it not very like,
	The horrible conceit of death and night,
	Together with the terror of the place,--
	As in a vault, an ancient receptacle,
	Where, for these many hundred years, the bones
	Of all my buried ancestors are packed:
	Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth,
	Lies festering in his shroud; where, as they say,
	At some hours in the night spirits resort;--
	Alack, alack, is it not like that I,
	So early waking, what with loathsome smells,
	And shrieks like mandrakes' torn out of the earth,
	That living mortals, hearing them, run mad:--
	O, if I wake, shall I not be distraught,
	Environed with all these hideous fears?
	And madly play with my forefather's joints?
	And pluck the mangled Tybalt from his shroud?
	And, in this rage, with some great kinsman's bone,
	As with a club, dash out my desperate brains?
	O, look! methinks I see my cousin's ghost
	Seeking out Romeo, that did spit his body
	Upon a rapier's point: stay, Tybalt, stay!
	Romeo, I come! this do I drink to thee.

	[She falls upon her bed, within the curtains]




	ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT IV



SCENE IV	Hall in Capulet's house.


	[Enter LADY CAPULET and Nurse]

LADY CAPULET	Hold, take these keys, and fetch more spices, nurse.

Nurse	They call for dates and quinces in the pastry.

	[Enter CAPULET]

CAPULET	Come, stir, stir, stir! the second cock hath crow'd,
	The curfew-bell hath rung, 'tis three o'clock:
	Look to the baked meats, good Angelica:
	Spare not for the cost.

Nurse	Go, you cot-quean, go,
	Get you to bed; faith, You'll be sick to-morrow
	For this night's watching.

CAPULET	No, not a whit: what! I have watch'd ere now
	All night for lesser cause, and ne'er been sick.

LADY CAPULET	Ay, you have been a mouse-hunt in your time;
	But I will watch you from such watching now.

	[Exeunt LADY CAPULET and Nurse]

CAPULET	A jealous hood, a jealous hood!

	[Enter three or four Servingmen, with spits, logs,
	and baskets]

		          Now, fellow,
	What's there?

First Servant	Things for the cook, sir; but I know not what.

CAPULET	Make haste, make haste.

	[Exit First Servant]

		  Sirrah, fetch drier logs:
	Call Peter, he will show thee where they are.

Second Servant	I have a head, sir, that will find out logs,
	And never trouble Peter for the matter.

	[Exit]

CAPULET	Mass, and well said; a merry whoreson, ha!
	Thou shalt be logger-head. Good faith, 'tis day:
	The county will be here with music straight,
	For so he said he would: I hear him near.

	[Music within]

	Nurse! Wife! What, ho! What, nurse, I say!

	[Re-enter Nurse]

	Go waken Juliet, go and trim her up;
	I'll go and chat with Paris: hie, make haste,
	Make haste; the bridegroom he is come already:
	Make haste, I say.

	[Exeunt]




	ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT IV



SCENE V	Juliet's chamber.


	[Enter Nurse]

Nurse	Mistress! what, mistress! Juliet! fast, I warrant her, she:
	Why, lamb! why, lady! fie, you slug-a-bed!
	Why, love, I say! madam! sweet-heart! why, bride!
	What, not a word? you take your pennyworths now;
	Sleep for a week; for the next night, I warrant,
	The County Paris hath set up his rest,
	That you shall rest but little. God forgive me,
	Marry, and amen, how sound is she asleep!
	I must needs wake her. Madam, madam, madam!
	Ay, let the county take you in your bed;
	He'll fright you up, i' faith. Will it not be?

	[Undraws the curtains]

	What, dress'd! and in your clothes! and down again!
	I must needs wake you; Lady! lady! lady!
	Alas, alas! Help, help! my lady's dead!
	O, well-a-day, that ever I was born!
	Some aqua vitae, ho! My lord! my lady!

	[Enter LADY CAPULET]

LADY CAPULET	What noise is here?

Nurse	O lamentable day!

LADY CAPULET	What is the matter?

Nurse	Look, look! O heavy day!

LADY CAPULET	O me, O me! My child, my only life,
	Revive, look up, or I will die with thee!
	Help, help! Call help.

	[Enter CAPULET]

CAPULET	For shame, bring Juliet forth; her lord is come.

Nurse	She's dead, deceased, she's dead; alack the day!

LADY CAPULET	Alack the day, she's dead, she's dead, she's dead!

CAPULET	Ha! let me see her: out, alas! she's cold:
	Her blood is settled, and her joints are stiff;
	Life and these lips have long been separated:
	Death lies on her like an untimely frost
	Upon the sweetest flower of all the field.

Nurse	O lamentable day!

LADY CAPULET	                  O woful time!

CAPULET	Death, that hath ta'en her hence to make me wail,
	Ties up my tongue, and will not let me speak.

	[Enter FRIAR LAURENCE and PARIS, with Musicians]

FRIAR LAURENCE	Come, is the bride ready to go to church?

CAPULET	Ready to go, but never to return.
	O son! the night before thy wedding-day
	Hath Death lain with thy wife. There she lies,
	Flower as she was, deflowered by him.
	Death is my son-in-law, Death is my heir;
	My daughter he hath wedded: I will die,
	And leave him all; life, living, all is Death's.

PARIS	Have I thought long to see this morning's face,
	And doth it give me such a sight as this?

LADY CAPULET	Accursed, unhappy, wretched, hateful day!
	Most miserable hour that e'er time saw
	In lasting labour of his pilgrimage!
	But one, poor one, one poor and loving child,
	But one thing to rejoice and solace in,
	And cruel death hath catch'd it from my sight!

Nurse	O woe! O woful, woful, woful day!
	Most lamentable day, most woful day,
	That ever, ever, I did yet behold!
	O day! O day! O day! O hateful day!
	Never was seen so black a day as this:
	O woful day, O woful day!

PARIS	Beguiled, divorced, wronged, spited, slain!
	Most detestable death, by thee beguil'd,
	By cruel cruel thee quite overthrown!
	O love! O life! not life, but love in death!

CAPULET	Despised, distressed, hated, martyr'd, kill'd!
	Uncomfortable time, why camest thou now
	To murder, murder our solemnity?
	O child! O child! my soul, and not my child!
	Dead art thou! Alack! my child is dead;
	And with my child my joys are buried.

FRIAR LAURENCE	Peace, ho, for shame! confusion's cure lives not
	In these confusions. Heaven and yourself
	Had part in this fair maid; now heaven hath all,
	And all the better is it for the maid:
	Your part in her you could not keep from death,
	But heaven keeps his part in eternal life.
	The most you sought was her promotion;
	For 'twas your heaven she should be advanced:
	And weep ye now, seeing she is advanced
	Above the clouds, as high as heaven itself?
	O, in this love, you love your child so ill,
	That you run mad, seeing that she is well:
	She's not well married that lives married long;
	But she's best married that dies married young.
	Dry up your tears, and stick your rosemary
	On this fair corse; and, as the custom is,
	In all her best array bear her to church:
	For though fond nature bids us an lament,
	Yet nature's tears are reason's merriment.

CAPULET	All things that we ordained festival,
	Turn from their office to black funeral;
	Our instruments to melancholy bells,
	Our wedding cheer to a sad burial feast,
	Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change,
	Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse,
	And all things change them to the contrary.

FRIAR LAURENCE	Sir, go you in; and, madam, go with him;
	And go, Sir Paris; every one prepare
	To follow this fair corse unto her grave:
	The heavens do lour upon you for some ill;
	Move them no more by crossing their high will.

	[Exeunt CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, PARIS, and FRIAR LAURENCE]

First Musician	Faith, we may put up our pipes, and be gone.

Nurse	Honest goodfellows, ah, put up, put up;
	For, well you know, this is a pitiful case.

	[Exit]

First Musician	Ay, by my troth, the case may be amended.

	[Enter PETER]

PETER	Musicians, O, musicians, 'Heart's ease, Heart's
	ease:' O, an you will have me live, play 'Heart's ease.'

First Musician	Why 'Heart's ease?'

PETER	O, musicians, because my heart itself plays 'My
	heart is full of woe:' O, play me some merry dump,
	to comfort me.

First Musician	Not a dump we; 'tis no time to play now.

PETER	You will not, then?

First Musician	No.

PETER	I will then give it you soundly.

First Musician	What will you give us?

PETER	No money, on my faith, but the gleek;
	I will give you the minstrel.

First Musician	Then I will give you the serving-creature.

PETER	Then will I lay the serving-creature's dagger on
	your pate. I will carry no crotchets: I'll re you,
	I'll fa you; do you note me?

First Musician	An you re us and fa us, you note us.

Second Musician	Pray you, put up your dagger, and put out your wit.

PETER	Then have at you with my wit! I will dry-beat you
	with an iron wit, and put up my iron dagger. Answer
	me like men:
	'When griping grief the heart doth wound,
	And doleful dumps the mind oppress,
	Then music with her silver sound'--
	why 'silver sound'? why 'music with her silver
	sound'? What say you, Simon Catling?

Musician	Marry, sir, because silver hath a sweet sound.

PETER	Pretty! What say you, Hugh Rebeck?

Second Musician	I say 'silver sound,' because musicians sound for silver.

PETER	Pretty too! What say you, James Soundpost?

Third Musician	Faith, I know not what to say.

PETER	O, I cry you mercy; you are the singer: I will say
	for you. It is 'music with her silver sound,'
	because musicians have no gold for sounding:
	'Then music with her silver sound
	With speedy help doth lend redress.'

	[Exit]

First Musician	What a pestilent knave is this same!

Second Musician	Hang him, Jack! Come, we'll in here; tarry for the
	mourners, and stay dinner.

	[Exeunt]




	ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT V



SCENE I	Mantua. A street.


	[Enter ROMEO]

ROMEO	If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep,
	My dreams presage some joyful news at hand:
	My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne;
	And all this day an unaccustom'd spirit
	Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts.
	I dreamt my lady came and found me dead--
	Strange dream, that gives a dead man leave
	to think!--
	And breathed such life with kisses in my lips,
	That I revived, and was an emperor.
	Ah me! how sweet is love itself possess'd,
	When but love's shadows are so rich in joy!

	[Enter BALTHASAR, booted]

	News from Verona!--How now, Balthasar!
	Dost thou not bring me letters from the friar?
	How doth my lady? Is my father well?
	How fares my Juliet? that I ask again;
	For nothing can be ill, if she be well.

BALTHASAR	Then she is well, and nothing can be ill:
	Her body sleeps in Capel's monument,
	And her immortal part with angels lives.
	I saw her laid low in her kindred's vault,
	And presently took post to tell it you:
	O, pardon me for bringing these ill news,
	Since you did leave it for my office, sir.

ROMEO	Is it even so? then I defy you, stars!
	Thou know'st my lodging: get me ink and paper,
	And hire post-horses; I will hence to-night.

BALTHASAR	I do beseech you, sir, have patience:
	Your looks are pale and wild, and do import
	Some misadventure.

ROMEO	                  Tush, thou art deceived:
	Leave me, and do the thing I bid thee do.
	Hast thou no letters to me from the friar?

BALTHASAR	No, my good lord.

ROMEO	                  No matter: get thee gone,
	And hire those horses; I'll be with thee straight.

	[Exit BALTHASAR]

	Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee to-night.
	Let's see for means: O mischief, thou art swift
	To enter in the thoughts of desperate men!
	I do remember an apothecary,--
	And hereabouts he dwells,--which late I noted
	In tatter'd weeds, with overwhelming brows,
	Culling of simples; meagre were his looks,
	Sharp misery had worn him to the bones:
	And in his needy shop a tortoise hung,
	An alligator stuff'd, and other skins
	Of ill-shaped fishes; and about his shelves
	A beggarly account of empty boxes,
	Green earthen pots, bladders and musty seeds,
	Remnants of packthread and old cakes of roses,
	Were thinly scatter'd, to make up a show.
	Noting this penury, to myself I said
	'An if a man did need a poison now,
	Whose sale is present death in Mantua,
	Here lives a caitiff wretch would sell it him.'
	O, this same thought did but forerun my need;
	And this same needy man must sell it me.
	As I remember, this should be the house.
	Being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut.
	What, ho! apothecary!

	[Enter Apothecary]

Apothecary	Who calls so loud?

ROMEO	Come hither, man. I see that thou art poor:
	Hold, there is forty ducats: let me have
	A dram of poison, such soon-speeding gear
	As will disperse itself through all the veins
	That the life-weary taker may fall dead
	And that the trunk may be discharged of breath
	As violently as hasty powder fired
	Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb.

Apothecary	Such mortal drugs I have; but Mantua's law
	Is death to any he that utters them.

ROMEO	Art thou so bare and full of wretchedness,
	And fear'st to die? famine is in thy cheeks,
	Need and oppression starveth in thine eyes,
	Contempt and beggary hangs upon thy back;
	The world is not thy friend nor the world's law;
	The world affords no law to make thee rich;
	Then be not poor, but break it, and take this.

Apothecary	My poverty, but not my will, consents.

ROMEO	I pay thy poverty, and not thy will.

Apothecary	Put this in any liquid thing you will,
	And drink it off; and, if you had the strength
	Of twenty men, it would dispatch you straight.

ROMEO	There is thy gold, worse poison to men's souls,
	Doing more murders in this loathsome world,
	Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell.
	I sell thee poison; thou hast sold me none.
	Farewell: buy food, and get thyself in flesh.
	Come, cordial and not poison, go with me
	To Juliet's grave; for there must I use thee.

	[Exeunt]




	ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT V



SCENE II	Friar Laurence's cell.


	[Enter FRIAR JOHN]

FRIAR JOHN	Holy Franciscan friar! brother, ho!

	[Enter FRIAR LAURENCE]

FRIAR LAURENCE	This same should be the voice of Friar John.
	Welcome from Mantua: what says Romeo?
	Or, if his mind be writ, give me his letter.

FRIAR JOHN	Going to find a bare-foot brother out
	One of our order, to associate me,
	Here in this city visiting the sick,
	And finding him, the searchers of the town,
	Suspecting that we both were in a house
	Where the infectious pestilence did reign,
	Seal'd up the doors, and would not let us forth;
	So that my speed to Mantua there was stay'd.

FRIAR LAURENCE	Who bare my letter, then, to Romeo?

FRIAR JOHN	I could not send it,--here it is again,--
	Nor get a messenger to bring it thee,
	So fearful were they of infection.

FRIAR LAURENCE	Unhappy fortune! by my brotherhood,
	The letter was not nice but full of charge
	Of dear import, and the neglecting it
	May do much danger. Friar John, go hence;
	Get me an iron crow, and bring it straight
	Unto my cell.

FRIAR JOHN	Brother, I'll go and bring it thee.

	[Exit]

FRIAR LAURENCE	Now must I to the monument alone;
	Within three hours will fair Juliet wake:
	She will beshrew me much that Romeo
	Hath had no notice of these accidents;
	But I will write again to Mantua,
	And keep her at my cell till Romeo come;
	Poor living corse, closed in a dead man's tomb!

	[Exit]




	ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT V



SCENE III	A churchyard; in it a tomb belonging to the Capulets.


	[Enter PARIS, and his Page bearing flowers and a torch]

PARIS	Give me thy torch, boy: hence, and stand aloof:
	Yet put it out, for I would not be seen.
	Under yond yew-trees lay thee all along,
	Holding thine ear close to the hollow ground;
	So shall no foot upon the churchyard tread,
	Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of graves,
	But thou shalt hear it: whistle then to me,
	As signal that thou hear'st something approach.
	Give me those flowers. Do as I bid thee, go.

PAGE	[Aside]  I am almost afraid to stand alone
	Here in the churchyard; yet I will adventure.

	[Retires]

PARIS	Sweet flower, with flowers thy bridal bed I strew,--
	O woe! thy canopy is dust and stones;--
	Which with sweet water nightly I will dew,
	Or, wanting that, with tears distill'd by moans:
	The obsequies that I for thee will keep
	Nightly shall be to strew thy grave and weep.

	[The Page whistles]

	The boy gives warning something doth approach.
	What cursed foot wanders this way to-night,
	To cross my obsequies and true love's rite?
	What with a torch! muffle me, night, awhile.

	[Retires]

	[Enter ROMEO and BALTHASAR, with a torch,
	mattock, &c]

ROMEO	Give me that mattock and the wrenching iron.
	Hold, take this letter; early in the morning
	See thou deliver it to my lord and father.
	Give me the light: upon thy life, I charge thee,
	Whate'er thou hear'st or seest, stand all aloof,
	And do not interrupt me in my course.
	Why I descend into this bed of death,
	Is partly to behold my lady's face;
	But chiefly to take thence from her dead finger
	A precious ring, a ring that I must use
	In dear employment: therefore hence, be gone:
	But if thou, jealous, dost return to pry
	In what I further shall intend to do,
	By heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint
	And strew this hungry churchyard with thy limbs:
	The time and my intents are savage-wild,
	More fierce and more inexorable far
	Than empty tigers or the roaring sea.

BALTHASAR	I will be gone, sir, and not trouble you.

ROMEO	So shalt thou show me friendship. Take thou that:
	Live, and be prosperous: and farewell, good fellow.

BALTHASAR	[Aside]  For all this same, I'll hide me hereabout:
	His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt.

	[Retires]

ROMEO	Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death,
	Gorged with the dearest morsel of the earth,
	Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open,
	And, in despite, I'll cram thee with more food!

	[Opens the tomb]

PARIS	This is that banish'd haughty Montague,
	That murder'd my love's cousin, with which grief,
	It is supposed, the fair creature died;
	And here is come to do some villanous shame
	To the dead bodies: I will apprehend him.

	[Comes forward]

	Stop thy unhallow'd toil, vile Montague!
	Can vengeance be pursued further than death?
	Condemned villain, I do apprehend thee:
	Obey, and go with me; for thou must die.

ROMEO	I must indeed; and therefore came I hither.
	Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man;
	Fly hence, and leave me: think upon these gone;
	Let them affright thee. I beseech thee, youth,
	Put not another sin upon my head,
	By urging me to fury: O, be gone!
	By heaven, I love thee better than myself;
	For I come hither arm'd against myself:
	Stay not, be gone; live, and hereafter say,
	A madman's mercy bade thee run away.

PARIS	I do defy thy conjurations,
	And apprehend thee for a felon here.

ROMEO	Wilt thou provoke me? then have at thee, boy!

	[They fight]

PAGE	O Lord, they fight! I will go call the watch.

	[Exit]

PARIS	O, I am slain!

	[Falls]

	If thou be merciful,
	Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet.

	[Dies]

ROMEO	In faith, I will. Let me peruse this face.
	Mercutio's kinsman, noble County Paris!
	What said my man, when my betossed soul
	Did not attend him as we rode? I think
	He told me Paris should have married Juliet:
	Said he not so? or did I dream it so?
	Or am I mad, hearing him talk of Juliet,
	To think it was so? O, give me thy hand,
	One writ with me in sour misfortune's book!
	I'll bury thee in a triumphant grave;
	A grave? O no! a lantern, slaughter'd youth,
	For here lies Juliet, and her beauty makes
	This vault a feasting presence full of light.
	Death, lie thou there, by a dead man interr'd.

	[Laying PARIS in the tomb]

	How oft when men are at the point of death
	Have they been merry! which their keepers call
	A lightning before death: O, how may I
	Call this a lightning? O my love! my wife!
	Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath,
	Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty:
	Thou art not conquer'd; beauty's ensign yet
	Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks,
	And death's pale flag is not advanced there.
	Tybalt, liest thou there in thy bloody sheet?
	O, what more favour can I do to thee,
	Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain
	To sunder his that was thine enemy?
	Forgive me, cousin! Ah, dear Juliet,
	Why art thou yet so fair? shall I believe
	That unsubstantial death is amorous,
	And that the lean abhorred monster keeps
	Thee here in dark to be his paramour?
	For fear of that, I still will stay with thee;
	And never from this palace of dim night
	Depart again: here, here will I remain
	With worms that are thy chamber-maids; O, here
	Will I set up my everlasting rest,
	And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars
	From this world-wearied flesh. Eyes, look your last!
	Arms, take your last embrace! and, lips, O you
	The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss
	A dateless bargain to engrossing death!
	Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury guide!
	Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on
	The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark!
	Here's to my love!

	[Drinks]

	O true apothecary!
	Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die.

	[Dies]

	[Enter, at the other end of the churchyard, FRIAR
	LAURENCE, with a lantern, crow, and spade]

FRIAR LAURENCE	Saint Francis be my speed! how oft to-night
	Have my old feet stumbled at graves! Who's there?

BALTHASAR	Here's one, a friend, and one that knows you well.

FRIAR LAURENCE	Bliss be upon you! Tell me, good my friend,
	What torch is yond, that vainly lends his light
	To grubs and eyeless skulls? as I discern,
	It burneth in the Capel's monument.

BALTHASAR	It doth so, holy sir; and there's my master,
	One that you love.

FRIAR LAURENCE	                  Who is it?

BALTHASAR	Romeo.

FRIAR LAURENCE	How long hath he been there?

BALTHASAR	Full half an hour.

FRIAR LAURENCE	Go with me to the vault.

BALTHASAR	I dare not, sir
	My master knows not but I am gone hence;
	And fearfully did menace me with death,
	If I did stay to look on his intents.

FRIAR LAURENCE	Stay, then; I'll go alone. Fear comes upon me:
	O, much I fear some ill unlucky thing.

BALTHASAR	As I did sleep under this yew-tree here,
	I dreamt my master and another fought,
	And that my master slew him.

FRIAR LAURENCE	Romeo!

	[Advances]

	Alack, alack, what blood is this, which stains
	The stony entrance of this sepulchre?
	What mean these masterless and gory swords
	To lie discolour'd by this place of peace?

	[Enters the tomb]

	Romeo! O, pale! Who else? what, Paris too?
	And steep'd in blood? Ah, what an unkind hour
	Is guilty of this lamentable chance!
	The lady stirs.

	[JULIET wakes]

JULIET	O comfortable friar! where is my lord?
	I do remember well where I should be,
	And there I am. Where is my Romeo?

	[Noise within]

FRIAR LAURENCE	I hear some noise. Lady, come from that nest
	Of death, contagion, and unnatural sleep:
	A greater power than we can contradict
	Hath thwarted our intents. Come, come away.
	Thy husband in thy bosom there lies dead;
	And Paris too. Come, I'll dispose of thee
	Among a sisterhood of holy nuns:
	Stay not to question, for the watch is coming;
	Come, go, good Juliet,

	[Noise again]

		 I dare no longer stay.

JULIET	Go, get thee hence, for I will not away.

	[Exit FRIAR LAURENCE]

	What's here? a cup, closed in my true love's hand?
	Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end:
	O churl! drunk all, and left no friendly drop
	To help me after? I will kiss thy lips;
	Haply some poison yet doth hang on them,
	To make die with a restorative.

	[Kisses him]

	Thy lips are warm.

First Watchman	[Within]  Lead, boy: which way?

JULIET	Yea, noise? then I'll be brief. O happy dagger!

	[Snatching ROMEO's dagger]

	This is thy sheath;

	[Stabs herself]

	there rust, and let me die.

	[Falls on ROMEO's body, and dies]

	[Enter Watch, with the Page of PARIS]

PAGE	This is the place; there, where the torch doth burn.

First Watchman	The ground is bloody; search about the churchyard:
	Go, some of you, whoe'er you find attach.
	Pitiful sight! here lies the county slain,
	And Juliet bleeding, warm, and newly dead,
	Who here hath lain these two days buried.
	Go, tell the prince: run to the Capulets:
	Raise up the Montagues: some others search:
	We see the ground whereon these woes do lie;
	But the true ground of all these piteous woes
	We cannot without circumstance descry.

	[Re-enter some of the Watch, with BALTHASAR]

Second Watchman	Here's Romeo's man; we found him in the churchyard.

First Watchman	Hold him in safety, till the prince come hither.

	[Re-enter others of the Watch, with FRIAR LAURENCE]

Third Watchman	Here is a friar, that trembles, sighs and weeps:
	We took this mattock and this spade from him,
	As he was coming from this churchyard side.

First Watchman	A great suspicion: stay the friar too.

	[Enter the PRINCE and Attendants]

PRINCE	What misadventure is so early up,
	That calls our person from our morning's rest?

	[Enter CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, and others]

CAPULET	What should it be, that they so shriek abroad?

LADY CAPULET	The people in the street cry Romeo,
	Some Juliet, and some Paris; and all run,
	With open outcry toward our monument.

PRINCE	What fear is this which startles in our ears?

First Watchman	Sovereign, here lies the County Paris slain;
	And Romeo dead; and Juliet, dead before,
	Warm and new kill'd.

PRINCE	Search, seek, and know how this foul murder comes.

First Watchman	Here is a friar, and slaughter'd Romeo's man;
	With instruments upon them, fit to open
	These dead men's tombs.

CAPULET	O heavens! O wife, look how our daughter bleeds!
	This dagger hath mista'en--for, lo, his house
	Is empty on the back of Montague,--
	And it mis-sheathed in my daughter's bosom!

LADY CAPULET	O me! this sight of death is as a bell,
	That warns my old age to a sepulchre.

	[Enter MONTAGUE and others]

PRINCE	Come, Montague; for thou art early up,
	To see thy son and heir more early down.

MONTAGUE	Alas, my liege, my wife is dead to-night;
	Grief of my son's exile hath stopp'd her breath:
	What further woe conspires against mine age?

PRINCE	Look, and thou shalt see.

MONTAGUE	O thou untaught! what manners is in this?
	To press before thy father to a grave?

PRINCE	Seal up the mouth of outrage for a while,
	Till we can clear these ambiguities,
	And know their spring, their head, their
	true descent;
	And then will I be general of your woes,
	And lead you even to death: meantime forbear,
	And let mischance be slave to patience.
	Bring forth the parties of suspicion.

FRIAR LAURENCE	I am the greatest, able to do least,
	Yet most suspected, as the time and place
	Doth make against me of this direful murder;
	And here I stand, both to impeach and purge
	Myself condemned and myself excused.

PRINCE	Then say at once what thou dost know in this.

FRIAR LAURENCE	I will be brief, for my short date of breath
	Is not so long as is a tedious tale.
	Romeo, there dead, was husband to that Juliet;
	And she, there dead, that Romeo's faithful wife:
	I married them; and their stol'n marriage-day
	Was Tybalt's dooms-day, whose untimely death
	Banish'd the new-made bridegroom from the city,
	For whom, and not for Tybalt, Juliet pined.
	You, to remove that siege of grief from her,
	Betroth'd and would have married her perforce
	To County Paris: then comes she to me,
	And, with wild looks, bid me devise some mean
	To rid her from this second marriage,
	Or in my cell there would she kill herself.
	Then gave I her, so tutor'd by my art,
	A sleeping potion; which so took effect
	As I intended, for it wrought on her
	The form of death: meantime I writ to Romeo,
	That he should hither come as this dire night,
	To help to take her from her borrow'd grave,
	Being the time the potion's force should cease.
	But he which bore my letter, Friar John,
	Was stay'd by accident, and yesternight
	Return'd my letter back. Then all alone
	At the prefixed hour of her waking,
	Came I to take her from her kindred's vault;
	Meaning to keep her closely at my cell,
	Till I conveniently could send to Romeo:
	But when I came, some minute ere the time
	Of her awaking, here untimely lay
	The noble Paris and true Romeo dead.
	She wakes; and I entreated her come forth,
	And bear this work of heaven with patience:
	But then a noise did scare me from the tomb;
	And she, too desperate, would not go with me,
	But, as it seems, did violence on herself.
	All this I know; and to the marriage
	Her nurse is privy: and, if aught in this
	Miscarried by my fault, let my old life
	Be sacrificed, some hour before his time,
	Unto the rigour of severest law.

PRINCE	We still have known thee for a holy man.
	Where's Romeo's man? what can he say in this?

BALTHASAR	I brought my master news of Juliet's death;
	And then in post he came from Mantua
	To this same place, to this same monument.
	This letter he early bid me give his father,
	And threatened me with death, going in the vault,
	I departed not and left him there.

PRINCE	Give me the letter; I will look on it.
	Where is the county's page, that raised the watch?
	Sirrah, what made your master in this place?

PAGE	He came with flowers to strew his lady's grave;
	And bid me stand aloof, and so I did:
	Anon comes one with light to ope the tomb;
	And by and by my master drew on him;
	And then I ran away to call the watch.

PRINCE	This letter doth make good the friar's words,
	Their course of love, the tidings of her death:
	And here he writes that he did buy a poison
	Of a poor 'pothecary, and therewithal
	Came to this vault to die, and lie with Juliet.
	Where be these enemies? Capulet! Montague!
	See, what a scourge is laid upon your hate,
	That heaven finds means to kill your joys with love.
	And I for winking at your discords too
	Have lost a brace of kinsmen: all are punish'd.

CAPULET	O brother Montague, give me thy hand:
	This is my daughter's jointure, for no more
	Can I demand.

MONTAGUE	                  But I can give thee more:
	For I will raise her statue in pure gold;
	That while Verona by that name is known,
	There shall no figure at such rate be set
	As that of true and faithful Juliet.

CAPULET	As rich shall Romeo's by his lady's lie;
	Poor sacrifices of our enmity!

PRINCE	A glooming peace this morning with it brings;
	The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head:
	Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things;
	Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished:
	For never was a story of more woe
	Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.

	[Exeunt]




	
	
	
	
	
	
	
	JULIUS CAESAR


	DRAMATIS PERSONAE


JULIUS CAESAR	(CAESAR:)


OCTAVIUS CAESAR	(OCTAVIUS:)	|
		|
MARCUS ANTONIUS	(ANTONY:)	|  triumvirs after death of Julius Caesar.
		|
M. AEMILIUS		|
LEPIDUS	(LEPIDUS:)	|


CICERO		|
		|
PUBLIUS		|  senators.
		|
POPILIUS LENA	(POPILIUS:)	|


MARCUS BRUTUS	(BRUTUS:)	|
		|
CASSIUS		|
		|
CASCA		|
		|
TREBONIUS		|
		|   conspirators against Julius Caesar.
LIGARIUS		|
		|
DECIUS BRUTUS		|
		|
METELLUS CIMBER		|
		|
CINNA		|


FLAVIUS	|
	|   tribunes.
MARULLUS	|


ARTEMIDORUS
Of Cnidos	a teacher of rhetoric. (ARTEMIDORUS:)

A Soothsayer	(Soothsayer:)

CINNA	a poet. (CINNA THE POET:)

Another Poet	(Poet:)


LUCILIUS		|
		|
TITINIUS		|
		|
MESSALA		|  friends to Brutus and Cassius.
		|
Young CATO	(CATO:)	|
		|
VOLUMNIUS		|


VARRO	|
	|
CLITUS	|
	|
CLAUDIUS	|
	|  servants to Brutus.
STRATO	|
	|
LUCIUS	|
	|
DARDANIUS	|


PINDARUS	servant to Cassius.

CALPURNIA	wife to Caesar.

PORTIA	wife to Brutus.

	Senators, Citizens, Guards, Attendants, &c.
	(First Citizen:)
	(Second Citizen:)
	(Third Citizen:)
	(Fourth Citizen:)
	(First Commoner:)
	(Second Commoner:)
	(Servant:)
	(First Soldier:)
	(Second Soldier:)
	(Third Soldier:)
	(Messenger:)


SCENE	Rome: the neighbourhood of Sardis: the neighbourhood
	of Philippi.




	JULIUS CAESAR


ACT I



SCENE I	Rome. A street.


	[Enter FLAVIUS, MARULLUS, and certain Commoners]

FLAVIUS	Hence! home, you idle creatures get you home:
	Is this a holiday? what! know you not,
	Being mechanical, you ought not walk
	Upon a labouring day without the sign
	Of your profession? Speak, what trade art thou?

First Commoner	Why, sir, a carpenter.

MARULLUS	Where is thy leather apron and thy rule?
	What dost thou with thy best apparel on?
	You, sir, what trade are you?

Second Commoner	Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but,
	as you would say, a cobbler.

MARULLUS	But what trade art thou? answer me directly.

Second Commoner	A trade, sir, that, I hope, I may use with a safe
	conscience; which is, indeed, sir, a mender of bad soles.

MARULLUS	What trade, thou knave? thou naughty knave, what trade?

Second Commoner	Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me: yet,
	if you be out, sir, I can mend you.

MARULLUS	What meanest thou by that? mend me, thou saucy fellow!

Second Commoner	Why, sir, cobble you.

FLAVIUS	Thou art a cobbler, art thou?

Second Commoner	Truly, sir, all that I live by is with the awl: I
	meddle with no tradesman's matters, nor women's
	matters, but with awl. I am, indeed, sir, a surgeon
	to old shoes; when they are in great danger, I
	recover them. As proper men as ever trod upon
	neat's leather have gone upon my handiwork.

FLAVIUS	But wherefore art not in thy shop today?
	Why dost thou lead these men about the streets?

Second Commoner	Truly, sir, to wear out their shoes, to get myself
	into more work. But, indeed, sir, we make holiday,
	to see Caesar and to rejoice in his triumph.

MARULLUS	Wherefore rejoice? What conquest brings he home?
	What tributaries follow him to Rome,
	To grace in captive bonds his chariot-wheels?
	You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things!
	O you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome,
	Knew you not Pompey? Many a time and oft
	Have you climb'd up to walls and battlements,
	To towers and windows, yea, to chimney-tops,
	Your infants in your arms, and there have sat
	The livelong day, with patient expectation,
	To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome:
	And when you saw his chariot but appear,
	Have you not made an universal shout,
	That Tiber trembled underneath her banks,
	To hear the replication of your sounds
	Made in her concave shores?
	And do you now put on your best attire?
	And do you now cull out a holiday?
	And do you now strew flowers in his way
	That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood? Be gone!
	Run to your houses, fall upon your knees,
	Pray to the gods to intermit the plague
	That needs must light on this ingratitude.

FLAVIUS	Go, go, good countrymen, and, for this fault,
	Assemble all the poor men of your sort;
	Draw them to Tiber banks, and weep your tears
	Into the channel, till the lowest stream
	Do kiss the most exalted shores of all.

	[Exeunt all the Commoners]

	See whether their basest metal be not moved;
	They vanish tongue-tied in their guiltiness.
	Go you down that way towards the Capitol;
	This way will I	disrobe the images,
	If you do find them deck'd with ceremonies.

MARULLUS	May we do so?
	You know it is the feast of Lupercal.

FLAVIUS	It is no matter; let no images
	Be hung with Caesar's trophies. I'll about,
	And drive away the vulgar from the streets:
	So do you too, where you perceive them thick.
	These growing feathers pluck'd from Caesar's wing
	Will make him fly an ordinary pitch,
	Who else would soar above the view of men
	And keep us all in servile fearfulness.

	[Exeunt]




	JULIUS CAESAR


ACT I



SCENE II	A public place.



	[Flourish. Enter CAESAR; ANTONY, for the course;
	CALPURNIA, PORTIA, DECIUS BRUTUS, CICERO, BRUTUS,
	CASSIUS, and CASCA; a great crowd following, among
	them a Soothsayer]

CAESAR	Calpurnia!

CASCA	         Peace, ho! Caesar speaks.

CAESAR	Calpurnia!

CALPURNIA	Here, my lord.

CAESAR	Stand you directly in Antonius' way,
	When he doth run his course. Antonius!

ANTONY	Caesar, my lord?

CAESAR	Forget not, in your speed, Antonius,
	To touch Calpurnia; for our elders say,
	The barren, touched in this holy chase,
	Shake off their sterile curse.

ANTONY	I shall remember:
	When Caesar says 'do this,' it is perform'd.

CAESAR	Set on; and leave no ceremony out.

	[Flourish]

Soothsayer	Caesar!

CAESAR	Ha! who calls?

CASCA	Bid every noise be still: peace yet again!

CAESAR	Who is it in the press that calls on me?
	I hear a tongue, shriller than all the music,
	Cry 'Caesar!' Speak; Caesar is turn'd to hear.

Soothsayer	Beware the ides of March.

CAESAR	What man is that?

BRUTUS	A soothsayer bids you beware the ides of March.

CAESAR	Set him before me; let me see his face.

CASSIUS	Fellow, come from the throng; look upon Caesar.

CAESAR	What say'st thou to me now? speak once again.

Soothsayer	Beware the ides of March.

CAESAR	He is a dreamer; let us leave him: pass.

	[Sennet. Exeunt all except BRUTUS and CASSIUS]

CASSIUS	Will you go see the order of the course?

BRUTUS	Not I.

CASSIUS	I pray you, do.

BRUTUS	I am not gamesome: I do lack some part
	Of that quick spirit that is in Antony.
	Let me not hinder, Cassius, your desires;
	I'll leave you.

CASSIUS	Brutus, I do observe you now of late:
	I have not from your eyes that gentleness
	And show of love as I was wont to have:
	You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand
	Over your friend that loves you.

BRUTUS	Cassius,
	Be not deceived: if I have veil'd my look,
	I turn the trouble of my countenance
	Merely upon myself. Vexed I am
	Of late with passions of some difference,
	Conceptions only proper to myself,
	Which give some soil perhaps to my behaviors;
	But let not therefore my good friends be grieved--
	Among which number, Cassius, be you one--
	Nor construe any further my neglect,
	Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war,
	Forgets the shows of love to other men.

CASSIUS	Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your passion;
	By means whereof this breast of mine hath buried
	Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations.
	Tell me, good Brutus, can you see your face?

BRUTUS	No, Cassius; for the eye sees not itself,
	But by reflection, by some other things.

CASSIUS	'Tis just:
	And it is very much lamented, Brutus,
	That you have no such mirrors as will turn
	Your hidden worthiness into your eye,
	That you might see your shadow. I have heard,
	Where many of the best respect in Rome,
	Except immortal Caesar, speaking of Brutus
	And groaning underneath this age's yoke,
	Have wish'd that noble Brutus had his eyes.

BRUTUS	Into what dangers would you lead me, Cassius,
	That you would have me seek into myself
	For that which is not in me?

CASSIUS	Therefore, good Brutus, be prepared to hear:
	And since you know you cannot see yourself
	So well as by reflection, I, your glass,
	Will modestly discover to yourself
	That of yourself which you yet know not of.
	And be not jealous on me, gentle Brutus:
	Were I a common laugher, or did use
	To stale with ordinary oaths my love
	To every new protester; if you know
	That I do fawn on men and hug them hard
	And after scandal them, or if you know
	That I profess myself in banqueting
	To all the rout, then hold me dangerous.

	[Flourish, and shout]

BRUTUS	What means this shouting? I do fear, the people
	Choose Caesar for their king.

CASSIUS	Ay, do you fear it?
	Then must I think you would not have it so.

BRUTUS	I would not, Cassius; yet I love him well.
	But wherefore do you hold me here so long?
	What is it that you would impart to me?
	If it be aught toward the general good,
	Set honour in one eye and death i' the other,
	And I will look on both indifferently,
	For let the gods so speed me as I love
	The name of honour more than I fear death.

CASSIUS	I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus,
	As well as I do know your outward favour.
	Well, honour is the subject of my story.
	I cannot tell what you and other men
	Think of this life; but, for my single self,
	I had as lief not be as live to be
	In awe of such a thing as I myself.
	I was born free as Caesar; so were you:
	We both have fed as well, and we can both
	Endure the winter's cold as well as he:
	For once, upon a raw and gusty day,
	The troubled Tiber chafing with her shores,
	Caesar said to me 'Darest thou, Cassius, now
	Leap in with me into this angry flood,
	And swim to yonder point?' Upon the word,
	Accoutred as I was, I plunged in
	And bade him follow; so indeed he did.
	The torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it
	With lusty sinews, throwing it aside
	And stemming it with hearts of controversy;
	But ere we could arrive the point proposed,
	Caesar cried 'Help me, Cassius, or I sink!'
	I, as Aeneas, our great ancestor,
	Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder
	The old Anchises bear, so from the waves of Tiber
	Did I the tired Caesar. And this man
	Is now become a god, and Cassius is
	A wretched creature and must bend his body,
	If Caesar carelessly but nod on him.
	He had a fever when he was in Spain,
	And when the fit was on him, I did mark
	How he did shake: 'tis true, this god did shake;
	His coward lips did from their colour fly,
	And that same eye whose bend doth awe the world
	Did lose his lustre: I did hear him groan:
	Ay, and that tongue of his that bade the Romans
	Mark him and write his speeches in their books,
	Alas, it cried 'Give me some drink, Titinius,'
	As a sick girl. Ye gods, it doth amaze me
	A man of such a feeble temper should
	So get the start of the majestic world
	And bear the palm alone.

	[Shout. Flourish]

BRUTUS	Another general shout!
	I do believe that these applauses are
	For some new honours that are heap'd on Caesar.

CASSIUS	Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world
	Like a Colossus, and we petty men
	Walk under his huge legs and peep about
	To find ourselves dishonourable graves.
	Men at some time are masters of their fates:
	The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
	But in ourselves, that we are underlings.
	Brutus and Caesar: what should be in that 'Caesar'?
	Why should that name be sounded more than yours?
	Write them together, yours is as fair a name;
	Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well;
	Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with 'em,
	Brutus will start a spirit as soon as Caesar.
	Now, in the names of all the gods at once,
	Upon what meat doth this our Caesar feed,
	That he is grown so great? Age, thou art shamed!
	Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods!
	When went there by an age, since the great flood,
	But it was famed with more than with one man?
	When could they say till now, that talk'd of Rome,
	That her wide walls encompass'd but one man?
	Now is it Rome indeed and room enough,
	When there is in it but one only man.
	O, you and I have heard our fathers say,
	There was a Brutus once that would have brook'd
	The eternal devil to keep his state in Rome
	As easily as a king.

BRUTUS	That you do love me, I am nothing jealous;
	What you would work me to, I have some aim:
	How I have thought of this and of these times,
	I shall recount hereafter; for this present,
	I would not, so with love I might entreat you,
	Be any further moved. What you have said
	I will consider; what you have to say
	I will with patience hear, and find a time
	Both meet to hear and answer such high things.
	Till then, my noble friend, chew upon this:
	Brutus had rather be a villager
	Than to repute himself a son of Rome
	Under these hard conditions as this time
	Is like to lay upon us.

CASSIUS	I am glad that my weak words
	Have struck but thus much show of fire from Brutus.

BRUTUS	The games are done and Caesar is returning.

CASSIUS	As they pass by, pluck Casca by the sleeve;
	And he will, after his sour fashion, tell you
	What hath proceeded worthy note to-day.

	[Re-enter CAESAR and his Train]

BRUTUS	I will do so. But, look you, Cassius,
	The angry spot doth glow on Caesar's brow,
	And all the rest look like a chidden train:
	Calpurnia's cheek is pale; and Cicero
	Looks with such ferret and such fiery eyes
	As we have seen him in the Capitol,
	Being cross'd in conference by some senators.

CASSIUS	Casca will tell us what the matter is.

CAESAR	Antonius!

ANTONY	Caesar?

CAESAR	Let me have men about me that are fat;
	Sleek-headed men and such as sleep o' nights:
	Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look;
	He thinks too much: such men are dangerous.

ANTONY	Fear him not, Caesar; he's not dangerous;
	He is a noble Roman and well given.

CAESAR	Would he were fatter! But I fear him not:
	Yet if my name were liable to fear,
	I do not know the man I should avoid
	So soon as that spare Cassius. He reads much;
	He is a great observer and he looks
	Quite through the deeds of men: he loves no plays,
	As thou dost, Antony; he hears no music;
	Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort
	As if he mock'd himself and scorn'd his spirit
	That could be moved to smile at any thing.
	Such men as he be never at heart's ease
	Whiles they behold a greater than themselves,
	And therefore are they very dangerous.
	I rather tell thee what is to be fear'd
	Than what I fear; for always I am Caesar.
	Come on my right hand, for this ear is deaf,
	And tell me truly what thou think'st of him.

	[Sennet. Exeunt CAESAR and all his Train, but CASCA]

CASCA	You pull'd me by the cloak; would you speak with me?

BRUTUS	Ay, Casca; tell us what hath chanced to-day,
	That Caesar looks so sad.

CASCA	Why, you were with him, were you not?

BRUTUS	I should not then ask Casca what had chanced.

CASCA	Why, there was a crown offered him: and being
	offered him, he put it by with the back of his hand,
	thus; and then the people fell a-shouting.

BRUTUS	What was the second noise for?

CASCA	Why, for that too.

CASSIUS	They shouted thrice: what was the last cry for?

CASCA	Why, for that too.

BRUTUS	Was the crown offered him thrice?

CASCA	Ay, marry, was't, and he put it by thrice, every
	time gentler than other, and at every putting-by
	mine honest neighbours shouted.

CASSIUS	Who offered him the crown?

CASCA	Why, Antony.

BRUTUS	Tell us the manner of it, gentle Casca.

CASCA	I can as well be hanged as tell the manner of it:
	it was mere foolery; I did not mark it. I saw Mark
	Antony offer him a crown;--yet 'twas not a crown
	neither, 'twas one of these coronets;--and, as I told
	you, he put it by once: but, for all that, to my
	thinking, he would fain have had it. Then he
	offered it to him again; then he put it by again:
	but, to my thinking, he was very loath to lay his
	fingers off it. And then he offered it the third
	time; he put it the third time by: and still as he
	refused it, the rabblement hooted and clapped their
	chapped hands and threw up their sweaty night-caps
	and uttered such a deal of stinking breath because
	Caesar refused the crown that it had almost choked
	Caesar; for he swounded and fell down at it: and
	for mine own part, I durst not laugh, for fear of
	opening my lips and receiving the bad air.

CASSIUS	But, soft, I pray you: what, did Caesar swound?

CASCA	He fell down in the market-place, and foamed at
	mouth, and was speechless.

BRUTUS	'Tis very like: he hath the failing sickness.

CASSIUS	No, Caesar hath it not; but you and I,
	And honest Casca, we have the falling sickness.

CASCA	I know not what you mean by that; but, I am sure,
	Caesar fell down. If the tag-rag people did not
	clap him and hiss him, according as he pleased and
	displeased them, as they use to do the players in
	the theatre, I am no true man.

BRUTUS	What said he when he came unto himself?

CASCA	Marry, before he fell down, when he perceived the
	common herd was glad he refused the crown, he
	plucked me ope his doublet and offered them his
	throat to cut. An I had been a man of any
	occupation, if I would not have taken him at a word,
	I would I might go to hell among the rogues. And so
	he fell. When he came to himself again, he said,
	If he had done or said any thing amiss, he desired
	their worships to think it was his infirmity. Three
	or four wenches, where I stood, cried 'Alas, good
	soul!' and forgave him with all their hearts: but
	there's no heed to be taken of them; if Caesar had
	stabbed their mothers, they would have done no less.

BRUTUS	And after that, he came, thus sad, away?

CASCA	Ay.

CASSIUS	Did Cicero say any thing?

CASCA	Ay, he spoke Greek.

CASSIUS	To what effect?

CASCA	Nay, an I tell you that, Ill ne'er look you i' the
	face again: but those that understood him smiled at
	one another and shook their heads; but, for mine own
	part, it was Greek to me. I could tell you more
	news too: Marullus and Flavius, for pulling scarfs
	off Caesar's images, are put to silence. Fare you
	well. There was more foolery yet, if I could
	remember it.

CASSIUS	Will you sup with me to-night, Casca?

CASCA	No, I am promised forth.

CASSIUS	Will you dine with me to-morrow?

CASCA	Ay, if I be alive and your mind hold and your dinner
	worth the eating.

CASSIUS	Good: I will expect you.

CASCA	Do so. Farewell, both.

	[Exit]

BRUTUS	What a blunt fellow is this grown to be!
	He was quick mettle when he went to school.

CASSIUS	So is he now in execution
	Of any bold or noble enterprise,
	However he puts on this tardy form.
	This rudeness is a sauce to his good wit,
	Which gives men stomach to digest his words
	With better appetite.

BRUTUS	And so it is. For this time I will leave you:
	To-morrow, if you please to speak with me,
	I will come home to you; or, if you will,
	Come home to me, and I will wait for you.

CASSIUS	I will do so: till then, think of the world.

	[Exit BRUTUS]

	Well, Brutus, thou art noble; yet, I see,
	Thy honourable metal may be wrought
	From that it is disposed: therefore it is meet
	That noble minds keep ever with their likes;
	For who so firm that cannot be seduced?
	Caesar doth bear me hard; but he loves Brutus:
	If I were Brutus now and he were Cassius,
	He should not humour me. I will this night,
	In several hands, in at his windows throw,
	As if they came from several citizens,
	Writings all tending to the great opinion
	That Rome holds of his name; wherein obscurely
	Caesar's ambition shall be glanced at:
	And after this let Caesar seat him sure;
	For we will shake him, or worse days endure.

	[Exit]




	JULIUS CAESAR


ACT I



SCENE III	The same. A street.




	[Thunder and lightning. Enter from opposite sides,
	CASCA, with his sword drawn, and CICERO]

CICERO	Good even, Casca: brought you Caesar home?
	Why are you breathless? and why stare you so?

CASCA	Are not you moved, when all the sway of earth
	Shakes like a thing unfirm? O Cicero,
	I have seen tempests, when the scolding winds
	Have rived the knotty oaks, and I have seen
	The ambitious ocean swell and rage and foam,
	To be exalted with the threatening clouds:
	But never till to-night, never till now,
	Did I go through a tempest dropping fire.
	Either there is a civil strife in heaven,
	Or else the world, too saucy with the gods,
	Incenses them to send destruction.

CICERO	Why, saw you any thing more wonderful?

CASCA	A common slave--you know him well by sight--
	Held up his left hand, which did flame and burn
	Like twenty torches join'd, and yet his hand,
	Not sensible of fire, remain'd unscorch'd.
	Besides--I ha' not since put up my sword--
	Against the Capitol I met a lion,
	Who glared upon me, and went surly by,
	Without annoying me: and there were drawn
	Upon a heap a hundred ghastly women,
	Transformed with their fear; who swore they saw
	Men all in fire walk up and down the streets.
	And yesterday the bird of night did sit
	Even at noon-day upon the market-place,
	Hooting and shrieking. When these prodigies
	Do so conjointly meet, let not men say
	'These are their reasons; they are natural;'
	For, I believe, they are portentous things
	Unto the climate that they point upon.

CICERO	Indeed, it is a strange-disposed time:
	But men may construe things after their fashion,
	Clean from the purpose of the things themselves.
	Come Caesar to the Capitol to-morrow?

CASCA	He doth; for he did bid Antonius
	Send word to you he would be there to-morrow.

CICERO	Good night then, Casca: this disturbed sky
	Is not to walk in.

CASCA	Farewell, Cicero.

	[Exit CICERO]

	[Enter CASSIUS]

CASSIUS	Who's there?

CASCA	                  A Roman.

CASSIUS	Casca, by your voice.

CASCA	Your ear is good. Cassius, what night is this!

CASSIUS	A very pleasing night to honest men.

CASCA	Who ever knew the heavens menace so?

CASSIUS	Those that have known the earth so full of faults.
	For my part, I have walk'd about the streets,
	Submitting me unto the perilous night,
	And, thus unbraced, Casca, as you see,
	Have bared my bosom to the thunder-stone;
	And when the cross blue lightning seem'd to open
	The breast of heaven, I did present myself
	Even in the aim and very flash of it.

CASCA	But wherefore did you so much tempt the heavens?
	It is the part of men to fear and tremble,
	When the most mighty gods by tokens send
	Such dreadful heralds to astonish us.

CASSIUS	You are dull, Casca, and those sparks of life
	That should be in a Roman you do want,
	Or else you use not. You look pale and gaze
	And put on fear and cast yourself in wonder,
	To see the strange impatience of the heavens:
	But if you would consider the true cause
	Why all these fires, why all these gliding ghosts,
	Why birds and beasts from quality and kind,
	Why old men fool and children calculate,
	Why all these things change from their ordinance
	Their natures and preformed faculties
	To monstrous quality,--why, you shall find
	That heaven hath infused them with these spirits,
	To make them instruments of fear and warning
	Unto some monstrous state.
	Now could I, Casca, name to thee a man
	Most like this dreadful night,
	That thunders, lightens, opens graves, and roars
	As doth the lion in the Capitol,
	A man no mightier than thyself or me
	In personal action, yet prodigious grown
	And fearful, as these strange eruptions are.

CASCA	'Tis Caesar that you mean; is it not, Cassius?

CASSIUS	Let it be who it is: for Romans now
	Have thews and limbs like to their ancestors;
	But, woe the while! our fathers' minds are dead,
	And we are govern'd with our mothers' spirits;
	Our yoke and sufferance show us womanish.

CASCA	Indeed, they say the senators tomorrow
	Mean to establish Caesar as a king;
	And he shall wear his crown by sea and land,
	In every place, save here in Italy.

CASSIUS	I know where I will wear this dagger then;
	Cassius from bondage will deliver Cassius:
	Therein, ye gods, you make the weak most strong;
	Therein, ye gods, you tyrants do defeat:
	Nor stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass,
	Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron,
	Can be retentive to the strength of spirit;
	But life, being weary of these worldly bars,
	Never lacks power to dismiss itself.
	If I know this, know all the world besides,
	That part of tyranny that I do bear
	I can shake off at pleasure.

	[Thunder still]

CASCA	So can I:
	So every bondman in his own hand bears
	The power to cancel his captivity.

CASSIUS	And why should Caesar be a tyrant then?
	Poor man! I know he would not be a wolf,
	But that he sees the Romans are but sheep:
	He were no lion, were not Romans hinds.
	Those that with haste will make a mighty fire
	Begin it with weak straws: what trash is Rome,
	What rubbish and what offal, when it serves
	For the base matter to illuminate
	So vile a thing as Caesar! But, O grief,
	Where hast thou led me? I perhaps speak this
	Before a willing bondman; then I know
	My answer must be made. But I am arm'd,
	And dangers are to me indifferent.

CASCA	You speak to Casca, and to such a man
	That is no fleering tell-tale. Hold, my hand:
	Be factious for redress of all these griefs,
	And I will set this foot of mine as far
	As who goes farthest.

CASSIUS	There's a bargain made.
	Now know you, Casca, I have moved already
	Some certain of the noblest-minded Romans
	To undergo with me an enterprise
	Of honourable-dangerous consequence;
	And I do know, by this, they stay for me
	In Pompey's porch: for now, this fearful night,
	There is no stir or walking in the streets;
	And the complexion of the element
	In favour's like the work we have in hand,
	Most bloody, fiery, and most terrible.

CASCA	Stand close awhile, for here comes one in haste.

CASSIUS	'Tis Cinna; I do know him by his gait;
	He is a friend.

	[Enter CINNA]

	Cinna, where haste you so?

CINNA	To find out you. Who's that? Metellus Cimber?

CASSIUS	No, it is Casca; one incorporate
	To our attempts. Am I not stay'd for, Cinna?

CINNA	I am glad on 't. What a fearful night is this!
	There's two or three of us have seen strange sights.

CASSIUS	Am I not stay'd for? tell me.

CINNA	Yes, you are.
	O Cassius, if you could
	But win the noble Brutus to our party--

CASSIUS	Be you content: good Cinna, take this paper,
	And look you lay it in the praetor's chair,
	Where Brutus may but find it; and throw this
	In at his window; set this up with wax
	Upon old Brutus' statue: all this done,
	Repair to Pompey's porch, where you shall find us.
	Is Decius Brutus and Trebonius there?

CINNA	All but Metellus Cimber; and he's gone
	To seek you at your house. Well, I will hie,
	And so bestow these papers as you bade me.

CASSIUS	That done, repair to Pompey's theatre.

	[Exit CINNA]

	Come, Casca, you and I will yet ere day
	See Brutus at his house: three parts of him
	Is ours already, and the man entire
	Upon the next encounter yields him ours.

CASCA	O, he sits high in all the people's hearts:
	And that which would appear offence in us,
	His countenance, like richest alchemy,
	Will change to virtue and to worthiness.

CASSIUS	Him and his worth and our great need of him
	You have right well conceited. Let us go,
	For it is after midnight; and ere day
	We will awake him and be sure of him.

	[Exeunt]




	JULIUS CAESAR


ACT II



SCENE I	Rome. BRUTUS's orchard.


	[Enter BRUTUS]

BRUTUS	What, Lucius, ho!
	I cannot, by the progress of the stars,
	Give guess how near to day. Lucius, I say!
	I would it were my fault to sleep so soundly.
	When, Lucius, when? awake, I say! what, Lucius!

	[Enter LUCIUS]

LUCIUS	Call'd you, my lord?

BRUTUS	Get me a taper in my study, Lucius:
	When it is lighted, come and call me here.

LUCIUS	I will, my lord.

	[Exit]

BRUTUS	It must be by his death: and for my part,
	I know no personal cause to spurn at him,
	But for the general. He would be crown'd:
	How that might change his nature, there's the question.
	It is the bright day that brings forth the adder;
	And that craves wary walking. Crown him?--that;--
	And then, I grant, we put a sting in him,
	That at his will he may do danger with.
	The abuse of greatness is, when it disjoins
	Remorse from power: and, to speak truth of Caesar,
	I have not known when his affections sway'd
	More than his reason. But 'tis a common proof,
	That lowliness is young ambition's ladder,
	Whereto the climber-upward turns his face;
	But when he once attains the upmost round.
	He then unto the ladder turns his back,
	Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees
	By which he did ascend. So Caesar may.
	Then, lest he may, prevent. And, since the quarrel
	Will bear no colour for the thing he is,
	Fashion it thus; that what he is, augmented,
	Would run to these and these extremities:
	And therefore think him as a serpent's egg
	Which, hatch'd, would, as his kind, grow mischievous,
	And kill him in the shell.

	[Re-enter LUCIUS]

LUCIUS	The taper burneth in your closet, sir.
	Searching the window for a flint, I found
	This paper, thus seal'd up; and, I am sure,
	It did not lie there when I went to bed.

	[Gives him the letter]

BRUTUS	Get you to bed again; it is not day.
	Is not to-morrow, boy, the ides of March?

LUCIUS	I know not, sir.

BRUTUS	Look in the calendar, and bring me word.

LUCIUS	I will, sir.

	[Exit]

BRUTUS	The exhalations whizzing in the air
	Give so much light that I may read by them.

	[Opens the letter and reads]

	'Brutus, thou sleep'st: awake, and see thyself.
	Shall Rome, &c. Speak, strike, redress!
	Brutus, thou sleep'st: awake!'
	Such instigations have been often dropp'd
	Where I have took them up.
	'Shall Rome, &c.' Thus must I piece it out:
	Shall Rome stand under one man's awe? What, Rome?
	My ancestors did from the streets of Rome
	The Tarquin drive, when he was call'd a king.
	'Speak, strike, redress!' Am I entreated
	To speak and strike? O Rome, I make thee promise:
	If the redress will follow, thou receivest
	Thy full petition at the hand of Brutus!

	[Re-enter LUCIUS]

LUCIUS	Sir, March is wasted fourteen days.

	[Knocking within]

BRUTUS	'Tis good. Go to the gate; somebody knocks.

	[Exit LUCIUS]

	Since Cassius first did whet me against Caesar,
	I have not slept.
	Between the acting of a dreadful thing
	And the first motion, all the interim is
	Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream:
	The Genius and the mortal instruments
	Are then in council; and the state of man,
	Like to a little kingdom, suffers then
	The nature of an insurrection.

	[Re-enter LUCIUS]

LUCIUS	Sir, 'tis your brother Cassius at the door,
	Who doth desire to see you.

BRUTUS	Is he alone?

LUCIUS	No, sir, there are moe with him.

BRUTUS	Do you know them?

LUCIUS	No, sir; their hats are pluck'd about their ears,
	And half their faces buried in their cloaks,
	That by no means I may discover them
	By any mark of favour.

BRUTUS	Let 'em enter.

	[Exit LUCIUS]

	They are the faction. O conspiracy,
	Shamest thou to show thy dangerous brow by night,
	When evils are most free? O, then by day
	Where wilt thou find a cavern dark enough
	To mask thy monstrous visage? Seek none, conspiracy;
	Hide it in smiles and affability:
	For if thou path, thy native semblance on,
	Not Erebus itself were dim enough
	To hide thee from prevention.

	[Enter the conspirators, CASSIUS, CASCA, DECIUS
	BRUTUS, CINNA, METELLUS CIMBER, and TREBONIUS]

CASSIUS	I think we are too bold upon your rest:
	Good morrow, Brutus; do we trouble you?

BRUTUS	I have been up this hour, awake all night.
	Know I these men that come along with you?

CASSIUS	Yes, every man of them, and no man here
	But honours you; and every one doth wish
	You had but that opinion of yourself
	Which every noble Roman bears of you.
	This is Trebonius.

BRUTUS	                  He is welcome hither.

CASSIUS	This, Decius Brutus.

BRUTUS	He is welcome too.

CASSIUS	This, Casca; this, Cinna; and this, Metellus Cimber.

BRUTUS	They are all welcome.
	What watchful cares do interpose themselves
	Betwixt your eyes and night?

CASSIUS	Shall I entreat a word?

	[BRUTUS and CASSIUS whisper]

DECIUS BRUTUS	Here lies the east: doth not the day break here?

CASCA	No.

CINNA	O, pardon, sir, it doth; and yon gray lines
	That fret the clouds are messengers of day.

CASCA	You shall confess that you are both deceived.
	Here, as I point my sword, the sun arises,
	Which is a great way growing on the south,
	Weighing the youthful season of the year.
	Some two months hence up higher toward the north
	He first presents his fire; and the high east
	Stands, as the Capitol, directly here.

BRUTUS	Give me your hands all over, one by one.

CASSIUS	And let us swear our resolution.

BRUTUS	No, not an oath: if not the face of men,
	The sufferance of our souls, the time's abuse,--
	If these be motives weak, break off betimes,
	And every man hence to his idle bed;
	So let high-sighted tyranny range on,
	Till each man drop by lottery. But if these,
	As I am sure they do, bear fire enough
	To kindle cowards and to steel with valour
	The melting spirits of women, then, countrymen,
	What need we any spur but our own cause,
	To prick us to redress? what other bond
	Than secret Romans, that have spoke the word,
	And will not palter? and what other oath
	Than honesty to honesty engaged,
	That this shall be, or we will fall for it?
	Swear priests and cowards and men cautelous,
	Old feeble carrions and such suffering souls
	That welcome wrongs; unto bad causes swear
	Such creatures as men doubt; but do not stain
	The even virtue of our enterprise,
	Nor the insuppressive mettle of our spirits,
	To think that or our cause or our performance
	Did need an oath; when every drop of blood
	That every Roman bears, and nobly bears,
	Is guilty of a several bastardy,
	If he do break the smallest particle
	Of any promise that hath pass'd from him.

CASSIUS	But what of Cicero? shall we sound him?
	I think he will stand very strong with us.

CASCA	Let us not leave him out.

CINNA	No, by no means.

METELLUS CIMBER	O, let us have him, for his silver hairs
	Will purchase us a good opinion
	And buy men's voices to commend our deeds:
	It shall be said, his judgment ruled our hands;
	Our youths and wildness shall no whit appear,
	But all be buried in his gravity.

BRUTUS	O, name him not: let us not break with him;
	For he will never follow any thing
	That other men begin.

CASSIUS	Then leave him out.

CASCA	Indeed he is not fit.

DECIUS BRUTUS	Shall no man else be touch'd but only Caesar?

CASSIUS	Decius, well urged: I think it is not meet,
	Mark Antony, so well beloved of Caesar,
	Should outlive Caesar: we shall find of him
	A shrewd contriver; and, you know, his means,
	If he improve them, may well stretch so far
	As to annoy us all: which to prevent,
	Let Antony and Caesar fall together.

BRUTUS	Our course will seem too bloody, Caius Cassius,
	To cut the head off and then hack the limbs,
	Like wrath in death and envy afterwards;
	For Antony is but a limb of Caesar:
	Let us be sacrificers, but not butchers, Caius.
	We all stand up against the spirit of Caesar;
	And in the spirit of men there is no blood:
	O, that we then could come by Caesar's spirit,
	And not dismember Caesar! But, alas,
	Caesar must bleed for it! And, gentle friends,
	Let's kill him boldly, but not wrathfully;
	Let's carve him as a dish fit for the gods,
	Not hew him as a carcass fit for hounds:
	And let our hearts, as subtle masters do,
	Stir up their servants to an act of rage,
	And after seem to chide 'em. This shall make
	Our purpose necessary and not envious:
	Which so appearing to the common eyes,
	We shall be call'd purgers, not murderers.
	And for Mark Antony, think not of him;
	For he can do no more than Caesar's arm
	When Caesar's head is off.

CASSIUS	Yet I fear him;
	For in the ingrafted love he bears to Caesar--

BRUTUS	Alas, good Cassius, do not think of him:
	If he love Caesar, all that he can do
	Is to himself, take thought and die for Caesar:
	And that were much he should; for he is given
	To sports, to wildness and much company.

TREBONIUS	There is no fear in him; let him not die;
	For he will live, and laugh at this hereafter.

	[Clock strikes]

BRUTUS	Peace! count the clock.

CASSIUS	The clock hath stricken three.

TREBONIUS	'Tis time to part.

CASSIUS	                  But it is doubtful yet,
	Whether Caesar will come forth to-day, or no;
	For he is superstitious grown of late,
	Quite from the main opinion he held once
	Of fantasy, of dreams and ceremonies:
	It may be, these apparent prodigies,
	The unaccustom'd terror of this night,
	And the persuasion of his augurers,
	May hold him from the Capitol to-day.

DECIUS BRUTUS	Never fear that: if he be so resolved,
	I can o'ersway him; for he loves to hear
	That unicorns may be betray'd with trees,
	And bears with glasses, elephants with holes,
	Lions with toils and men with flatterers;
	But when I tell him he hates flatterers,
	He says he does, being then most flattered.
	Let me work;
	For I can give his humour the true bent,
	And I will bring him to the Capitol.

CASSIUS	Nay, we will all of us be there to fetch him.

BRUTUS	By the eighth hour: is that the uttermost?

CINNA	Be that the uttermost, and fail not then.

METELLUS CIMBER	Caius Ligarius doth bear Caesar hard,
	Who rated him for speaking well of Pompey:
	I wonder none of you have thought of him.

BRUTUS	Now, good Metellus, go along by him:
	He loves me well, and I have given him reasons;
	Send him but hither, and I'll fashion him.

CASSIUS	The morning comes upon 's: we'll leave you, Brutus.
	And, friends, disperse yourselves; but all remember
	What you have said, and show yourselves true Romans.

BRUTUS	Good gentlemen, look fresh and merrily;
	Let not our looks put on our purposes,
	But bear it as our Roman actors do,
	With untired spirits and formal constancy:
	And so good morrow to you every one.

	[Exeunt all but BRUTUS]

	Boy! Lucius! Fast asleep? It is no matter;
	Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber:
	Thou hast no figures nor no fantasies,
	Which busy care draws in the brains of men;
	Therefore thou sleep'st so sound.

	[Enter PORTIA]

PORTIA	Brutus, my lord!

BRUTUS	Portia, what mean you? wherefore rise you now?
	It is not for your health thus to commit
	Your weak condition to the raw cold morning.

PORTIA	Nor for yours neither. You've ungently, Brutus,
	Stole from my bed: and yesternight, at supper,
	You suddenly arose, and walk'd about,
	Musing and sighing, with your arms across,
	And when I ask'd you what the matter was,
	You stared upon me with ungentle looks;
	I urged you further; then you scratch'd your head,
	And too impatiently stamp'd with your foot;
	Yet I insisted, yet you answer'd not,
	But, with an angry wafture of your hand,
	Gave sign for me to leave you: so I did;
	Fearing to strengthen that impatience
	Which seem'd too much enkindled, and withal
	Hoping it was but an effect of humour,
	Which sometime hath his hour with every man.
	It will not let you eat, nor talk, nor sleep,
	And could it work so much upon your shape
	As it hath much prevail'd on your condition,
	I should not know you, Brutus. Dear my lord,
	Make me acquainted with your cause of grief.

BRUTUS	I am not well in health, and that is all.

PORTIA	Brutus is wise, and, were he not in health,
	He would embrace the means to come by it.

BRUTUS	Why, so I do. Good Portia, go to bed.

PORTIA	Is Brutus sick? and is it physical
	To walk unbraced and suck up the humours
	Of the dank morning? What, is Brutus sick,
	And will he steal out of his wholesome bed,
	To dare the vile contagion of the night
	And tempt the rheumy and unpurged air
	To add unto his sickness? No, my Brutus;
	You have some sick offence within your mind,
	Which, by the right and virtue of my place,
	I ought to know of: and, upon my knees,
	I charm you, by my once-commended beauty,
	By all your vows of love and that great vow
	Which did incorporate and make us one,
	That you unfold to me, yourself, your half,
	Why you are heavy, and what men to-night
	Have had to resort to you: for here have been
	Some six or seven, who did hide their faces
	Even from darkness.

BRUTUS	Kneel not, gentle Portia.

PORTIA	I should not need, if you were gentle Brutus.
	Within the bond of marriage, tell me, Brutus,
	Is it excepted I should know no secrets
	That appertain to you? Am I yourself
	But, as it were, in sort or limitation,
	To keep with you at meals, comfort your bed,
	And talk to you sometimes? Dwell I but in the suburbs
	Of your good pleasure? If it be no more,
	Portia is Brutus' harlot, not his wife.

BRUTUS	You are my true and honourable wife,
	As dear to me as are the ruddy drops
	That visit my sad heart

PORTIA	If this were true, then should I know this secret.
	I grant I am a woman; but withal
	A woman that Lord Brutus took to wife:
	I grant I am a woman; but withal
	A woman well-reputed, Cato's daughter.
	Think you I am no stronger than my sex,
	Being so father'd and so husbanded?
	Tell me your counsels, I will not disclose 'em:
	I have made strong proof of my constancy,
	Giving myself a voluntary wound
	Here, in the thigh: can I bear that with patience.
	And not my husband's secrets?

BRUTUS	O ye gods,

	Render me worthy of this noble wife!

	[Knocking within]

	Hark, hark! one knocks: Portia, go in awhile;
	And by and by thy bosom shall partake
	The secrets of my heart.
	All my engagements I will construe to thee,
	All the charactery of my sad brows:
	Leave me with haste.

	[Exit PORTIA]

		Lucius, who's that knocks?

	[Re-enter LUCIUS with LIGARIUS]

LUCIUS	He is a sick man that would speak with you.

BRUTUS	Caius Ligarius, that Metellus spake of.
	Boy, stand aside. Caius Ligarius! how?

LIGARIUS	Vouchsafe good morrow from a feeble tongue.

BRUTUS	O, what a time have you chose out, brave Caius,
	To wear a kerchief! Would you were not sick!

LIGARIUS	I am not sick, if Brutus have in hand
	Any exploit worthy the name of honour.

BRUTUS	Such an exploit have I in hand, Ligarius,
	Had you a healthful ear to hear of it.

LIGARIUS	By all the gods that Romans bow before,
	I here discard my sickness! Soul of Rome!
	Brave son, derived from honourable loins!
	Thou, like an exorcist, hast conjured up
	My mortified spirit. Now bid me run,
	And I will strive with things impossible;
	Yea, get the better of them. What's to do?

BRUTUS	A piece of work that will make sick men whole.

LIGARIUS	But are not some whole that we must make sick?

BRUTUS	That must we also. What it is, my Caius,
	I shall unfold to thee, as we are going
	To whom it must be done.

LIGARIUS	Set on your foot,
	And with a heart new-fired I follow you,
	To do I know not what: but it sufficeth
	That Brutus leads me on.

BRUTUS	Follow me, then.

	[Exeunt]




	JULIUS CAESAR


ACT II



SCENE II	CAESAR's house.


	[Thunder and lightning. Enter CAESAR, in his
	night-gown]

CAESAR	Nor heaven nor earth have been at peace to-night:
	Thrice hath Calpurnia in her sleep cried out,
	'Help, ho! they murder Caesar!' Who's within?

	[Enter a Servant]

Servant	My lord?

CAESAR	Go bid the priests do present sacrifice
	And bring me their opinions of success.

Servant	I will, my lord.

	[Exit]

	[Enter CALPURNIA]

CALPURNIA	What mean you, Caesar? think you to walk forth?
	You shall not stir out of your house to-day.

CAESAR	Caesar shall forth: the things that threaten'd me
	Ne'er look'd but on my back; when they shall see
	The face of Caesar, they are vanished.

CALPURNIA	Caesar, I never stood on ceremonies,
	Yet now they fright me. There is one within,
	Besides the things that we have heard and seen,
	Recounts most horrid sights seen by the watch.
	A lioness hath whelped in the streets;
	And graves have yawn'd, and yielded up their dead;
	Fierce fiery warriors fought upon the clouds,
	In ranks and squadrons and right form of war,
	Which drizzled blood upon the Capitol;
	The noise of battle hurtled in the air,
	Horses did neigh, and dying men did groan,
	And ghosts did shriek and squeal about the streets.
	O Caesar! these things are beyond all use,
	And I do fear them.

CAESAR	What can be avoided
	Whose end is purposed by the mighty gods?
	Yet Caesar shall go forth; for these predictions
	Are to the world in general as to Caesar.

CALPURNIA	When beggars die, there are no comets seen;
	The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes.

CAESAR	Cowards die many times before their deaths;
	The valiant never taste of death but once.
	Of all the wonders that I yet have heard.
	It seems to me most strange that men should fear;
	Seeing that death, a necessary end,
	Will come when it will come.

	[Re-enter Servant]

		       What say the augurers?

Servant	They would not have you to stir forth to-day.
	Plucking the entrails of an offering forth,
	They could not find a heart within the beast.

CAESAR	The gods do this in shame of cowardice:
	Caesar should be a beast without a heart,
	If he should stay at home to-day for fear.
	No, Caesar shall not: danger knows full well
	That Caesar is more dangerous than he:
	We are two lions litter'd in one day,
	And I the elder and more terrible:
	And Caesar shall go forth.

CALPURNIA	Alas, my lord,
	Your wisdom is consumed in confidence.
	Do not go forth to-day: call it my fear
	That keeps you in the house, and not your own.
	We'll send Mark Antony to the senate-house:
	And he shall say you are not well to-day:
	Let me, upon my knee, prevail in this.

CAESAR	Mark Antony shall say I am not well,
	And, for thy humour, I will stay at home.

	[Enter DECIUS BRUTUS]

	Here's Decius Brutus, he shall tell them so.

DECIUS BRUTUS	Caesar, all hail! good morrow, worthy Caesar:
	I come to fetch you to the senate-house.

CAESAR	And you are come in very happy time,
	To bear my greeting to the senators
	And tell them that I will not come to-day:
	Cannot, is false, and that I dare not, falser:
	I will not come to-day: tell them so, Decius.

CALPURNIA	Say he is sick.

CAESAR	                  Shall Caesar send a lie?
	Have I in conquest stretch'd mine arm so far,
	To be afraid to tell graybeards the truth?
	Decius, go tell them Caesar will not come.

DECIUS BRUTUS	Most mighty Caesar, let me know some cause,
	Lest I be laugh'd at when I tell them so.

CAESAR	The cause is in my will: I will not come;
	That is enough to satisfy the senate.
	But for your private satisfaction,
	Because I love you, I will let you know:
	Calpurnia here, my wife, stays me at home:
	She dreamt to-night she saw my statua,
	Which, like a fountain with an hundred spouts,
	Did run pure blood: and many lusty Romans
	Came smiling, and did bathe their hands in it:
	And these does she apply for warnings, and portents,
	And evils imminent; and on her knee
	Hath begg'd that I will stay at home to-day.

DECIUS BRUTUS	This dream is all amiss interpreted;
	It was a vision fair and fortunate:
	Your statue spouting blood in many pipes,
	In which so many smiling Romans bathed,
	Signifies that from you great Rome shall suck
	Reviving blood, and that great men shall press
	For tinctures, stains, relics and cognizance.
	This by Calpurnia's dream is signified.

CAESAR	And this way have you well expounded it.

DECIUS BRUTUS	I have, when you have heard what I can say:
	And know it now: the senate have concluded
	To give this day a crown to mighty Caesar.
	If you shall send them word you will not come,
	Their minds may change. Besides, it were a mock
	Apt to be render'd, for some one to say
	'Break up the senate till another time,
	When Caesar's wife shall meet with better dreams.'
	If Caesar hide himself, shall they not whisper
	'Lo, Caesar is afraid'?
	Pardon me, Caesar; for my dear dear love
	To our proceeding bids me tell you this;
	And reason to my love is liable.

CAESAR	How foolish do your fears seem now, Calpurnia!
	I am ashamed I did yield to them.
	Give me my robe, for I will go.

	[Enter PUBLIUS, BRUTUS, LIGARIUS, METELLUS, CASCA,
	TREBONIUS, and CINNA]

	And look where Publius is come to fetch me.

PUBLIUS	Good morrow, Caesar.

CAESAR	Welcome, Publius.
	What, Brutus, are you stirr'd so early too?
	Good morrow, Casca. Caius Ligarius,
	Caesar was ne'er so much your enemy
	As that same ague which hath made you lean.
	What is 't o'clock?

BRUTUS	Caesar, 'tis strucken eight.

CAESAR	I thank you for your pains and courtesy.

	[Enter ANTONY]

	See! Antony, that revels long o' nights,
	Is notwithstanding up. Good morrow, Antony.

ANTONY	So to most noble Caesar.

CAESAR	Bid them prepare within:
	I am to blame to be thus waited for.
	Now, Cinna: now, Metellus: what, Trebonius!
	I have an hour's talk in store for you;
	Remember that you call on me to-day:
	Be near me, that I may remember you.

TREBONIUS	Caesar, I will:

	[Aside]

	and so near will I be,
	That your best friends shall wish I had been further.

CAESAR	Good friends, go in, and taste some wine with me;
	And we, like friends, will straightway go together.

BRUTUS	[Aside]  That every like is not the same, O Caesar,
	The heart of Brutus yearns to think upon!

	[Exeunt]




	JULIUS CAESAR


ACT II



SCENE III	A street near the Capitol.


	[Enter ARTEMIDORUS, reading a paper]

ARTEMIDORUS	'Caesar, beware of Brutus; take heed of Cassius;
	come not near Casca; have an eye to Cinna, trust not
	Trebonius: mark well Metellus Cimber: Decius Brutus
	loves thee not: thou hast wronged Caius Ligarius.
	There is but one mind in all these men, and it is
	bent against Caesar. If thou beest not immortal,
	look about you: security gives way to conspiracy.
	The mighty gods defend thee! Thy lover,
		'ARTEMIDORUS.'
	Here will I stand till Caesar pass along,
	And as a suitor will I give him this.
	My heart laments that virtue cannot live
	Out of the teeth of emulation.
	If thou read this, O Caesar, thou mayst live;
	If not, the Fates with traitors do contrive.

	[Exit]




	JULIUS CAESAR


ACT II



SCENE IV	Another part of the same street, before the house of BRUTUS.


	[Enter PORTIA and LUCIUS]

PORTIA	I prithee, boy, run to the senate-house;
	Stay not to answer me, but get thee gone:
	Why dost thou stay?

LUCIUS	To know my errand, madam.

PORTIA	I would have had thee there, and here again,
	Ere I can tell thee what thou shouldst do there.
	O constancy, be strong upon my side,
	Set a huge mountain 'tween my heart and tongue!
	I have a man's mind, but a woman's might.
	How hard it is for women to keep counsel!
	Art thou here yet?

LUCIUS	                  Madam, what should I do?
	Run to the Capitol, and nothing else?
	And so return to you, and nothing else?

PORTIA	Yes, bring me word, boy, if thy lord look well,
	For he went sickly forth: and take good note
	What Caesar doth, what suitors press to him.
	Hark, boy! what noise is that?

LUCIUS	I hear none, madam.

PORTIA	Prithee, listen well;
	I heard a bustling rumour, like a fray,
	And the wind brings it from the Capitol.

LUCIUS	Sooth, madam, I hear nothing.

	[Enter the Soothsayer]

PORTIA	Come hither, fellow: which way hast thou been?

Soothsayer	At mine own house, good lady.

PORTIA	What is't o'clock?

Soothsayer	                  About the ninth hour, lady.

PORTIA	Is Caesar yet gone to the Capitol?

Soothsayer	Madam, not yet: I go to take my stand,
	To see him pass on to the Capitol.

PORTIA	Thou hast some suit to Caesar, hast thou not?

Soothsayer	That I have, lady: if it will please Caesar
	To be so good to Caesar as to hear me,
	I shall beseech him to befriend himself.

PORTIA	Why, know'st thou any harm's intended towards him?

Soothsayer	None that I know will be, much that I fear may chance.
	Good morrow to you. Here the street is narrow:
	The throng that follows Caesar at the heels,
	Of senators, of praetors, common suitors,
	Will crowd a feeble man almost to death:
	I'll get me to a place more void, and there
	Speak to great Caesar as he comes along.

	[Exit]

PORTIA	I must go in. Ay me, how weak a thing
	The heart of woman is! O Brutus,
	The heavens speed thee in thine enterprise!
	Sure, the boy heard me: Brutus hath a suit
	That Caesar will not grant. O, I grow faint.
	Run, Lucius, and commend me to my lord;
	Say I am merry: come to me again,
	And bring me word what he doth say to thee.

	[Exeunt severally]




	JULIUS CAESAR


ACT III



SCENE I	Rome. Before the Capitol; the Senate sitting above.


	[A crowd of people; among them ARTEMIDORUS and the
	Soothsayer. Flourish. Enter CAESAR, BRUTUS,
	CASSIUS, CASCA, DECIUS BRUTUS, METELLUS CIMBER,
	TREBONIUS, CINNA, ANTONY, LEPIDUS, POPILIUS,
	PUBLIUS, and others]

CAESAR	[To the Soothsayer]  The ides of March are come.

Soothsayer	Ay, Caesar; but not gone.

ARTEMIDORUS	Hail, Caesar! read this schedule.

DECIUS BRUTUS	Trebonius doth desire you to o'erread,
	At your best leisure, this his humble suit.

ARTEMIDORUS	O Caesar, read mine first; for mine's a suit
	That touches Caesar nearer: read it, great Caesar.

CAESAR	What touches us ourself shall be last served.

ARTEMIDORUS	Delay not, Caesar; read it instantly.

CAESAR	What, is the fellow mad?

PUBLIUS	Sirrah, give place.

CASSIUS	What, urge you your petitions in the street?
	Come to the Capitol.

	[CAESAR goes up to the Senate-House, the rest
	following]

POPILIUS	I wish your enterprise to-day may thrive.

CASSIUS	What enterprise, Popilius?

POPILIUS	Fare you well.

	[Advances to CAESAR]

BRUTUS	What said Popilius Lena?

CASSIUS	He wish'd to-day our enterprise might thrive.
	I fear our purpose is discovered.

BRUTUS	Look, how he makes to Caesar; mark him.

CASSIUS	Casca, be sudden, for we fear prevention.
	Brutus, what shall be done? If this be known,
	Cassius or Caesar never shall turn back,
	For I will slay myself.

BRUTUS	Cassius, be constant:
	Popilius Lena speaks not of our purposes;
	For, look, he smiles, and Caesar doth not change.

CASSIUS	Trebonius knows his time; for, look you, Brutus.
	He draws Mark Antony out of the way.

	[Exeunt ANTONY and TREBONIUS]

DECIUS BRUTUS	Where is Metellus Cimber? Let him go,
	And presently prefer his suit to Caesar.

BRUTUS	He is address'd: press near and second him.

CINNA	Casca, you are the first that rears your hand.

CAESAR	Are we all ready? What is now amiss
	That Caesar and his senate must redress?

METELLUS CIMBER	Most high, most mighty, and most puissant Caesar,
	Metellus Cimber throws before thy seat
	An humble heart,--

	[Kneeling]

CAESAR	                  I must prevent thee, Cimber.
	These couchings and these lowly courtesies
	Might fire the blood of ordinary men,
	And turn pre-ordinance and first decree
	Into the law of children. Be not fond,
	To think that Caesar bears such rebel blood
	That will be thaw'd from the true quality
	With that which melteth fools; I mean, sweet words,
	Low-crooked court'sies and base spaniel-fawning.
	Thy brother by decree is banished:
	If thou dost bend and pray and fawn for him,
	I spurn thee like a cur out of my way.
	Know, Caesar doth not wrong, nor without cause
	Will he be satisfied.

METELLUS CIMBER	Is there no voice more worthy than my own
	To sound more sweetly in great Caesar's ear
	For the repealing of my banish'd brother?

BRUTUS	I kiss thy hand, but not in flattery, Caesar;
	Desiring thee that Publius Cimber may
	Have an immediate freedom of repeal.

CAESAR	What, Brutus!

CASSIUS	                  Pardon, Caesar; Caesar, pardon:
	As low as to thy foot doth Cassius fall,
	To beg enfranchisement for Publius Cimber.

CASSIUS	I could be well moved, if I were as you:
	If I could pray to move, prayers would move me:
	But I am constant as the northern star,
	Of whose true-fix'd and resting quality
	There is no fellow in the firmament.
	The skies are painted with unnumber'd sparks,
	They are all fire and every one doth shine,
	But there's but one in all doth hold his place:
	So in the world; 'tis furnish'd well with men,
	And men are flesh and blood, and apprehensive;
	Yet in the number I do know but one
	That unassailable holds on his rank,
	Unshaked of motion: and that I am he,
	Let me a little show it, even in this;
	That I was constant Cimber should be banish'd,
	And constant do remain to keep him so.

CINNA	O Caesar,--

CAESAR	          Hence! wilt thou lift up Olympus?

DECIUS BRUTUS	Great Caesar,--

CAESAR	                  Doth not Brutus bootless kneel?

CASCA	Speak, hands for me!

	[CASCA first, then the other Conspirators and
	BRUTUS stab CAESAR]

CAESAR	Et tu, Brute! Then fall, Caesar.

	[Dies]

CINNA	Liberty! Freedom! Tyranny is dead!
	Run hence, proclaim, cry it about the streets.

CASSIUS	Some to the common pulpits, and cry out
	'Liberty, freedom, and enfranchisement!'

BRUTUS	People and senators, be not affrighted;
	Fly not; stand stiff: ambition's debt is paid.

CASCA	Go to the pulpit, Brutus.

DECIUS BRUTUS	And Cassius too.

BRUTUS	Where's Publius?

CINNA	Here, quite confounded with this mutiny.

METELLUS CIMBER	Stand fast together, lest some friend of Caesar's
	Should chance--

BRUTUS	Talk not of standing. Publius, good cheer;
	There is no harm intended to your person,
	Nor to no Roman else: so tell them, Publius.

CASSIUS	And leave us, Publius; lest that the people,
	Rushing on us, should do your age some mischief.

BRUTUS	Do so: and let no man abide this deed,
	But we the doers.

	[Re-enter TREBONIUS]

CASSIUS	                  Where is Antony?

TREBONIUS	Fled to his house amazed:
	Men, wives and children stare, cry out and run
	As it were doomsday.

BRUTUS	Fates, we will know your pleasures:
	That we shall die, we know; 'tis but the time
	And drawing days out, that men stand upon.

CASSIUS	Why, he that cuts off twenty years of life
	Cuts off so many years of fearing death.

BRUTUS	Grant that, and then is death a benefit:
	So are we Caesar's friends, that have abridged
	His time of fearing death. Stoop, Romans, stoop,
	And let us bathe our hands in Caesar's blood
	Up to the elbows, and besmear our swords:
	Then walk we forth, even to the market-place,
	And, waving our red weapons o'er our heads,
	Let's all cry 'Peace, freedom and liberty!'

CASSIUS	Stoop, then, and wash. How many ages hence
	Shall this our lofty scene be acted over
	In states unborn and accents yet unknown!

BRUTUS	How many times shall Caesar bleed in sport,
	That now on Pompey's basis lies along
	No worthier than the dust!

CASSIUS	So oft as that shall be,
	So often shall the knot of us be call'd
	The men that gave their country liberty.

DECIUS BRUTUS	What, shall we forth?

CASSIUS	Ay, every man away:
	Brutus shall lead; and we will grace his heels
	With the most boldest and best hearts of Rome.

	[Enter a Servant]

BRUTUS	Soft! who comes here? A friend of Antony's.

Servant	Thus, Brutus, did my master bid me kneel:
	Thus did Mark Antony bid me fall down;
	And, being prostrate, thus he bade me say:
	Brutus is noble, wise, valiant, and honest;
	Caesar was mighty, bold, royal, and loving:
	Say I love Brutus, and I honour him;
	Say I fear'd Caesar, honour'd him and loved him.
	If Brutus will vouchsafe that Antony
	May safely come to him, and be resolved
	How Caesar hath deserved to lie in death,
	Mark Antony shall not love Caesar dead
	So well as Brutus living; but will follow
	The fortunes and affairs of noble Brutus
	Thorough the hazards of this untrod state
	With all true faith. So says my master Antony.

BRUTUS	Thy master is a wise and valiant Roman;
	I never thought him worse.
	Tell him, so please him come unto this place,
	He shall be satisfied; and, by my honour,
	Depart untouch'd.

Servant	                  I'll fetch him presently.

	[Exit]

BRUTUS	I know that we shall have him well to friend.

CASSIUS	I wish we may: but yet have I a mind
	That fears him much; and my misgiving still
	Falls shrewdly to the purpose.

BRUTUS	But here comes Antony.

	[Re-enter ANTONY]

		 Welcome, Mark Antony.

ANTONY	O mighty Caesar! dost thou lie so low?
	Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils,
	Shrunk to this little measure? Fare thee well.
	I know not, gentlemen, what you intend,
	Who else must be let blood, who else is rank:
	If I myself, there is no hour so fit
	As Caesar's death hour, nor no instrument
	Of half that worth as those your swords, made rich
	With the most noble blood of all this world.
	I do beseech ye, if you bear me hard,
	Now, whilst your purpled hands do reek and smoke,
	Fulfil your pleasure. Live a thousand years,
	I shall not find myself so apt to die:
	No place will please me so, no mean of death,
	As here by Caesar, and by you cut off,
	The choice and master spirits of this age.

BRUTUS	O Antony, beg not your death of us.
	Though now we must appear bloody and cruel,
	As, by our hands and this our present act,
	You see we do, yet see you but our hands
	And this the bleeding business they have done:
	Our hearts you see not; they are pitiful;
	And pity to the general wrong of Rome--
	As fire drives out fire, so pity pity--
	Hath done this deed on Caesar. For your part,
	To you our swords have leaden points, Mark Antony:
	Our arms, in strength of malice, and our hearts
	Of brothers' temper, do receive you in
	With all kind love, good thoughts, and reverence.

CASSIUS	Your voice shall be as strong as any man's
	In the disposing of new dignities.

BRUTUS	Only be patient till we have appeased
	The multitude, beside themselves with fear,
	And then we will deliver you the cause,
	Why I, that did love Caesar when I struck him,
	Have thus proceeded.

ANTONY	I doubt not of your wisdom.
	Let each man render me his bloody hand:
	First, Marcus Brutus, will I shake with you;
	Next, Caius Cassius, do I take your hand;
	Now, Decius Brutus, yours: now yours, Metellus;
	Yours, Cinna; and, my valiant Casca, yours;
	Though last, not last in love, yours, good Trebonius.
	Gentlemen all,--alas, what shall I say?
	My credit now stands on such slippery ground,
	That one of two bad ways you must conceit me,
	Either a coward or a flatterer.
	That I did love thee, Caesar, O, 'tis true:
	If then thy spirit look upon us now,
	Shall it not grieve thee dearer than thy death,
	To see thy thy Anthony making his peace,
	Shaking the bloody fingers of thy foes,
	Most noble! in the presence of thy corse?
	Had I as many eyes as thou hast wounds,
	Weeping as fast as they stream forth thy blood,
	It would become me better than to close
	In terms of friendship with thine enemies.
	Pardon me, Julius! Here wast thou bay'd, brave hart;
	Here didst thou fall; and here thy hunters stand,
	Sign'd in thy spoil, and crimson'd in thy lethe.
	O world, thou wast the forest to this hart;
	And this, indeed, O world, the heart of thee.
	How like a deer, strucken by many princes,
	Dost thou here lie!

CASSIUS	Mark Antony,--

ANTONY	                  Pardon me, Caius Cassius:
	The enemies of Caesar shall say this;
	Then, in a friend, it is cold modesty.

CASSIUS	I blame you not for praising Caesar so;
	But what compact mean you to have with us?
	Will you be prick'd in number of our friends;
	Or shall we on, and not depend on you?

ANTONY	Therefore I took your hands, but was, indeed,
	Sway'd from the point, by looking down on Caesar.
	Friends am I with you all and love you all,
	Upon this hope, that you shall give me reasons
	Why and wherein Caesar was dangerous.

BRUTUS	Or else were this a savage spectacle:
	Our reasons are so full of good regard
	That were you, Antony, the son of Caesar,
	You should be satisfied.

ANTONY	That's all I seek:
	And am moreover suitor that I may
	Produce his body to the market-place;
	And in the pulpit, as becomes a friend,
	Speak in the order of his funeral.

BRUTUS	You shall, Mark Antony.

CASSIUS	Brutus, a word with you.

	[Aside to BRUTUS]

	You know not what you do: do not consent
	That Antony speak in his funeral:
	Know you how much the people may be moved
	By that which he will utter?

BRUTUS	By your pardon;
	I will myself into the pulpit first,
	And show the reason of our Caesar's death:
	What Antony shall speak, I will protest
	He speaks by leave and by permission,
	And that we are contented Caesar shall
	Have all true rites and lawful ceremonies.
	It shall advantage more than do us wrong.

CASSIUS	I know not what may fall; I like it not.

BRUTUS	Mark Antony, here, take you Caesar's body.
	You shall not in your funeral speech blame us,
	But speak all good you can devise of Caesar,
	And say you do't by our permission;
	Else shall you not have any hand at all
	About his funeral: and you shall speak
	In the same pulpit whereto I am going,
	After my speech is ended.

ANTONY	Be it so.
	I do desire no more.

BRUTUS	Prepare the body then, and follow us.

	[Exeunt all but ANTONY]

ANTONY	O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth,
	That I am meek and gentle with these butchers!
	Thou art the ruins of the noblest man
	That ever lived in the tide of times.
	Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood!
	Over thy wounds now do I prophesy,--
	Which, like dumb mouths, do ope their ruby lips,
	To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue--
	A curse shall light upon the limbs of men;
	Domestic fury and fierce civil strife
	Shall cumber all the parts of Italy;
	Blood and destruction shall be so in use
	And dreadful objects so familiar
	That mothers shall but smile when they behold
	Their infants quarter'd with the hands of war;
	All pity choked with custom of fell deeds:
	And Caesar's spirit, ranging for revenge,
	With Ate by his side come hot from hell,
	Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice
	Cry  'Havoc,' and let slip the dogs of war;
	That this foul deed shall smell above the earth
	With carrion men, groaning for burial.

	[Enter a Servant]

	You serve Octavius Caesar, do you not?

Servant	I do, Mark Antony.

ANTONY	Caesar did write for him to come to Rome.

Servant	He did receive his letters, and is coming;
	And bid me say to you by word of mouth--
	O Caesar!--

	[Seeing the body]

ANTONY	Thy heart is big, get thee apart and weep.
	Passion, I see, is catching; for mine eyes,
	Seeing those beads of sorrow stand in thine,
	Began to water. Is thy master coming?

Servant	He lies to-night within seven leagues of Rome.

ANTONY	Post back with speed, and tell him what hath chanced:
	Here is a mourning Rome, a dangerous Rome,
	No Rome of safety for Octavius yet;
	Hie hence, and tell him so. Yet, stay awhile;
	Thou shalt not back till I have borne this corse
	Into the market-place: there shall I try
	In my oration, how the people take
	The cruel issue of these bloody men;
	According to the which, thou shalt discourse
	To young Octavius of the state of things.
	Lend me your hand.

	[Exeunt with CAESAR's body]




	JULIUS CAESAR


ACT III



SCENE II	The Forum.


	[Enter BRUTUS and CASSIUS, and a throng of Citizens]

Citizens	We will be satisfied; let us be satisfied.

BRUTUS	Then follow me, and give me audience, friends.
	Cassius, go you into the other street,
	And part the numbers.
	Those that will hear me speak, let 'em stay here;
	Those that will follow Cassius, go with him;
	And public reasons shall be rendered
	Of Caesar's death.

First Citizen	                  I will hear Brutus speak.

Second Citizen	I will hear Cassius; and compare their reasons,
	When severally we hear them rendered.

	[Exit CASSIUS, with some of the Citizens. BRUTUS
	goes into the pulpit]

Third Citizen	The noble Brutus is ascended: silence!

BRUTUS	Be patient till the last.

	Romans, countrymen, and lovers! hear me for my
	cause, and be silent, that you may hear: believe me
	for mine honour, and have respect to mine honour, that
	you may believe: censure me in your wisdom, and
	awake your senses, that you may the better judge.
	If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of
	Caesar's, to him I say, that Brutus' love to Caesar
	was no less than his. If then that friend demand
	why Brutus rose against Caesar, this is my answer:
	--Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved
	Rome more. Had you rather Caesar were living and
	die all slaves, than that Caesar were dead, to live
	all free men? As Caesar loved me, I weep for him;
	as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was
	valiant, I honour him: but, as he was ambitious, I
	slew him. There is tears for his love; joy for his
	fortune; honour for his valour; and death for his
	ambition. Who is here so base that would be a
	bondman? If any, speak; for him have I offended.
	Who is here so rude that would not be a Roman? If
	any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so
	vile that will not love his country? If any, speak;
	for him have I offended. I pause for a reply.

All	None, Brutus, none.

BRUTUS	Then none have I offended. I have done no more to
	Caesar than you shall do to Brutus. The question of
	his death is enrolled in the Capitol; his glory not
	extenuated, wherein he was worthy, nor his offences
	enforced, for which he suffered death.

	[Enter ANTONY and others, with CAESAR's body]

	Here comes his body, mourned by Mark Antony: who,
	though he had no hand in his death, shall receive
	the benefit of his dying, a place in the
	commonwealth; as which of you shall not? With this
	I depart,--that, as I slew my best lover for the
	good of Rome, I have the same dagger for myself,
	when it shall please my country to need my death.

All	Live, Brutus! live, live!

First Citizen	Bring him with triumph home unto his house.

Second Citizen	Give him a statue with his ancestors.

Third Citizen	Let him be Caesar.

Fourth Citizen	                  Caesar's better parts
	Shall be crown'd in Brutus.

First Citizen	We'll bring him to his house
	With shouts and clamours.

BRUTUS	My countrymen,--

Second Citizen	Peace, silence! Brutus speaks.

First Citizen	Peace, ho!

BRUTUS	Good countrymen, let me depart alone,
	And, for my sake, stay here with Antony:
	Do grace to Caesar's corpse, and grace his speech
	Tending to Caesar's glories; which Mark Antony,
	By our permission, is allow'd to make.
	I do entreat you, not a man depart,
	Save I alone, till Antony have spoke.

	[Exit]

First Citizen	Stay, ho! and let us hear Mark Antony.

Third Citizen	Let him go up into the public chair;
	We'll hear him. Noble Antony, go up.

ANTONY	For Brutus' sake, I am beholding to you.

	[Goes into the pulpit]

Fourth Citizen	What does he say of Brutus?

Third Citizen	He says, for Brutus' sake,
	He finds himself beholding to us all.

Fourth Citizen	'Twere best he speak no harm of Brutus here.

First Citizen	This Caesar was a tyrant.

Third Citizen	Nay, that's certain:
	We are blest that Rome is rid of him.

Second Citizen	Peace! let us hear what Antony can say.

ANTONY	You gentle Romans,--

Citizens	Peace, ho! let us hear him.

ANTONY	Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears;
	I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.
	The evil that men do lives after them;
	The good is oft interred with their bones;
	So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus
	Hath told you Caesar was ambitious:
	If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
	And grievously hath Caesar answer'd it.
	Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest--
	For Brutus is an honourable man;
	So are they all, all honourable men--
	Come I to speak in Caesar's funeral.
	He was my friend, faithful and just to me:
	But Brutus says he was ambitious;
	And Brutus is an honourable man.
	He hath brought many captives home to Rome
	Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill:
	Did this in Caesar seem ambitious?
	When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept:
	Ambition should be made of sterner stuff:
	Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;
	And Brutus is an honourable man.
	You all did see that on the Lupercal
	I thrice presented him a kingly crown,
	Which he did thrice refuse: was this ambition?
	Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;
	And, sure, he is an honourable man.
	I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke,
	But here I am to speak what I do know.
	You all did love him once, not without cause:
	What cause withholds you then, to mourn for him?
	O judgment! thou art fled to brutish beasts,
	And men have lost their reason. Bear with me;
	My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar,
	And I must pause till it come back to me.

First Citizen	Methinks there is much reason in his sayings.

Second Citizen	If thou consider rightly of the matter,
	Caesar has had great wrong.

Third Citizen	Has he, masters?
	I fear there will a worse come in his place.

Fourth Citizen	Mark'd ye his words? He would not take the crown;
	Therefore 'tis certain he was not ambitious.

First Citizen	If it be found so, some will dear abide it.

Second Citizen	Poor soul! his eyes are red as fire with weeping.

Third Citizen	There's not a nobler man in Rome than Antony.

Fourth Citizen	Now mark him, he begins again to speak.

ANTONY	But yesterday the word of Caesar might
	Have stood against the world; now lies he there.
	And none so poor to do him reverence.
	O masters, if I were disposed to stir
	Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage,
	I should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong,
	Who, you all know, are honourable men:
	I will not do them wrong; I rather choose
	To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you,
	Than I will wrong such honourable men.
	But here's a parchment with the seal of Caesar;
	I found it in his closet, 'tis his will:
	Let but the commons hear this testament--
	Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read--
	And they would go and kiss dead Caesar's wounds
	And dip their napkins in his sacred blood,
	Yea, beg a hair of him for memory,
	And, dying, mention it within their wills,
	Bequeathing it as a rich legacy
	Unto their issue.

Fourth Citizen	We'll hear the will: read it, Mark Antony.

All	The will, the will! we will hear Caesar's will.

ANTONY	Have patience, gentle friends, I must not read it;
	It is not meet you know how Caesar loved you.
	You are not wood, you are not stones, but men;
	And, being men, bearing the will of Caesar,
	It will inflame you, it will make you mad:
	'Tis good you know not that you are his heirs;
	For, if you should, O, what would come of it!

Fourth Citizen	Read the will; we'll hear it, Antony;
	You shall read us the will, Caesar's will.

ANTONY	Will you be patient? will you stay awhile?
	I have o'ershot myself to tell you of it:
	I fear I wrong the honourable men
	Whose daggers have stabb'd Caesar; I do fear it.

Fourth Citizen	They were traitors: honourable men!

All	The will! the testament!

Second Citizen	They were villains, murderers: the will! read the will.

ANTONY	You will compel me, then, to read the will?
	Then make a ring about the corpse of Caesar,
	And let me show you him that made the will.
	Shall I descend? and will you give me leave?

Several Citizens	Come down.

Second Citizen	Descend.

Third Citizen	You shall have leave.

	[ANTONY comes down]

Fourth Citizen	A ring; stand round.

First Citizen	Stand from the hearse, stand from the body.

Second Citizen	Room for Antony, most noble Antony.

ANTONY	Nay, press not so upon me; stand far off.

Several Citizens	Stand back; room; bear back.

ANTONY	If you have tears, prepare to shed them now.
	You all do know this mantle: I remember
	The first time ever Caesar put it on;
	'Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent,
	That day he overcame the Nervii:
	Look, in this place ran Cassius' dagger through:
	See what a rent the envious Casca made:
	Through this the well-beloved Brutus stabb'd;
	And as he pluck'd his cursed steel away,
	Mark how the blood of Caesar follow'd it,
	As rushing out of doors, to be resolved
	If Brutus so unkindly knock'd, or no;
	For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar's angel:
	Judge, O you gods, how dearly Caesar loved him!
	This was the most unkindest cut of all;
	For when the noble Caesar saw him stab,
	Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms,
	Quite vanquish'd him: then burst his mighty heart;
	And, in his mantle muffling up his face,
	Even at the base of Pompey's statua,
	Which all the while ran blood, great Caesar fell.
	O, what a fall was there, my countrymen!
	Then I, and you, and all of us fell down,
	Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us.
	O, now you weep; and, I perceive, you feel
	The dint of pity: these are gracious drops.
	Kind souls, what, weep you when you but behold
	Our Caesar's vesture wounded? Look you here,
	Here is himself, marr'd, as you see, with traitors.

First Citizen	O piteous spectacle!

Second Citizen	O noble Caesar!

Third Citizen	O woful day!

Fourth Citizen	O traitors, villains!

First Citizen	O most bloody sight!

Second Citizen	We will be revenged.

All	Revenge! About! Seek! Burn! Fire! Kill! Slay!
	Let not a traitor live!

ANTONY	Stay, countrymen.

First Citizen	Peace there! hear the noble Antony.

Second Citizen	We'll hear him, we'll follow him, we'll die with him.

ANTONY	Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up
	To such a sudden flood of mutiny.
	They that have done this deed are honourable:
	What private griefs they have, alas, I know not,
	That made them do it: they are wise and honourable,
	And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you.
	I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts:
	I am no orator, as Brutus is;
	But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man,
	That love my friend; and that they know full well
	That gave me public leave to speak of him:
	For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth,
	Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech,
	To stir men's blood: I only speak right on;
	I tell you that which you yourselves do know;
	Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor poor dumb mouths,
	And bid them speak for me: but were I Brutus,
	And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony
	Would ruffle up your spirits and put a tongue
	In every wound of Caesar that should move
	The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.

All	We'll mutiny.

First Citizen	We'll burn the house of Brutus.

Third Citizen	Away, then! come, seek the conspirators.

ANTONY	Yet hear me, countrymen; yet hear me speak.

All	Peace, ho! Hear Antony. Most noble Antony!

ANTONY	Why, friends, you go to do you know not what:
	Wherein hath Caesar thus deserved your loves?
	Alas, you know not: I must tell you then:
	You have forgot the will I told you of.

All	Most true. The will! Let's stay and hear the will.

ANTONY	Here is the will, and under Caesar's seal.
	To every Roman citizen he gives,
	To every several man, seventy-five drachmas.

Second Citizen	Most noble Caesar! We'll revenge his death.

Third Citizen	O royal Caesar!

ANTONY	Hear me with patience.

All	Peace, ho!

ANTONY	Moreover, he hath left you all his walks,
	His private arbours and new-planted orchards,
	On this side Tiber; he hath left them you,
	And to your heirs for ever, common pleasures,
	To walk abroad, and recreate yourselves.
	Here was a Caesar! when comes such another?

First Citizen	Never, never. Come, away, away!
	We'll burn his body in the holy place,
	And with the brands fire the traitors' houses.
	Take up the body.

Second Citizen	Go fetch fire.

Third Citizen	Pluck down benches.

Fourth Citizen	Pluck down forms, windows, any thing.

	[Exeunt Citizens with the body]

ANTONY	Now let it work. Mischief, thou art afoot,
	Take thou what course thou wilt!

	[Enter a Servant]

		                  How now, fellow!

Servant	Sir, Octavius is already come to Rome.

ANTONY	Where is he?

Servant	He and Lepidus are at Caesar's house.

ANTONY	And thither will I straight to visit him:
	He comes upon a wish. Fortune is merry,
	And in this mood will give us any thing.

Servant	I heard him say, Brutus and Cassius
	Are rid like madmen through the gates of Rome.

ANTONY	Belike they had some notice of the people,
	How I had moved them. Bring me to Octavius.

	[Exeunt]




	JULIUS CAESAR


ACT III



SCENE III	A street.


	[Enter CINNA the poet]

CINNA THE POET	I dreamt to-night that I did feast with Caesar,
	And things unlucky charge my fantasy:
	I have no will to wander forth of doors,
	Yet something leads me forth.

	[Enter Citizens]

First Citizen	What is your name?

Second Citizen	Whither are you going?

Third Citizen	Where do you dwell?

Fourth Citizen	Are you a married man or a bachelor?

Second Citizen	Answer every man directly.

First Citizen	Ay, and briefly.

Fourth Citizen	Ay, and wisely.

Third Citizen	Ay, and truly, you were best.

CINNA THE POET	What is my name? Whither am I going? Where do I
	dwell? Am I a married man or a bachelor? Then, to
	answer every man directly and briefly, wisely and
	truly: wisely I say, I am a bachelor.

Second Citizen	That's as much as to say, they are fools that marry:
	you'll bear me a bang for that, I fear. Proceed; directly.

CINNA THE POET	Directly, I am going to Caesar's funeral.

First Citizen	As a friend or an enemy?

CINNA THE POET	As a friend.

Second Citizen	That matter is answered directly.

Fourth Citizen	For your dwelling,--briefly.

CINNA THE POET	Briefly, I dwell by the Capitol.

Third Citizen	Your name, sir, truly.

CINNA THE POET	Truly, my name is Cinna.

First Citizen	Tear him to pieces; he's a conspirator.

CINNA THE POET	I am Cinna the poet, I am Cinna the poet.

Fourth Citizen	Tear him for his bad verses, tear him for his bad verses.

CINNA THE POET	I am not Cinna the conspirator.

Fourth Citizen	It is no matter, his name's Cinna; pluck but his
	name out of his heart, and turn him going.

Third Citizen	Tear him, tear him! Come, brands ho! fire-brands:
	to Brutus', to Cassius'; burn all: some to Decius'
	house, and some to Casca's; some to Ligarius': away, go!

	[Exeunt]




	JULIUS CAESAR


ACT IV



SCENE I	A house in Rome.


	[ANTONY, OCTAVIUS, and LEPIDUS, seated at a table]

ANTONY	These many, then, shall die; their names are prick'd.

OCTAVIUS	Your brother too must die; consent you, Lepidus?

LEPIDUS	I do consent--

OCTAVIUS	                  Prick him down, Antony.

LEPIDUS	Upon condition Publius shall not live,
	Who is your sister's son, Mark Antony.

ANTONY	He shall not live; look, with a spot I damn him.
	But, Lepidus, go you to Caesar's house;
	Fetch the will hither, and we shall determine
	How to cut off some charge in legacies.

LEPIDUS	What, shall I find you here?

OCTAVIUS	Or here, or at the Capitol.

	[Exit LEPIDUS]

ANTONY	This is a slight unmeritable man,
	Meet to be sent on errands: is it fit,
	The three-fold world divided, he should stand
	One of the three to share it?

OCTAVIUS	So you thought him;
	And took his voice who should be prick'd to die,
	In our black sentence and proscription.

ANTONY	Octavius, I have seen more days than you:
	And though we lay these honours on this man,
	To ease ourselves of divers slanderous loads,
	He shall but bear them as the ass bears gold,
	To groan and sweat under the business,
	Either led or driven, as we point the way;
	And having brought our treasure where we will,
	Then take we down his load, and turn him off,
	Like to the empty ass, to shake his ears,
	And graze in commons.

OCTAVIUS	You may do your will;
	But he's a tried and valiant soldier.

ANTONY	So is my horse, Octavius; and for that
	I do appoint him store of provender:
	It is a creature that I teach to fight,
	To wind, to stop, to run directly on,
	His corporal motion govern'd by my spirit.
	And, in some taste, is Lepidus but so;
	He must be taught and train'd and bid go forth;
	A barren-spirited fellow; one that feeds
	On abjects, orts and imitations,
	Which, out of use and staled by other men,
	Begin his fashion: do not talk of him,
	But as a property. And now, Octavius,
	Listen great things:--Brutus and Cassius
	Are levying powers: we must straight make head:
	Therefore let our alliance be combined,
	Our best friends made, our means stretch'd
	And let us presently go sit in council,
	How covert matters may be best disclosed,
	And open perils surest answered.

OCTAVIUS	Let us do so: for we are at the stake,
	And bay'd about with many enemies;
	And some that smile have in their hearts, I fear,
	Millions of mischiefs.

	[Exeunt]




	JULIUS CAESAR


ACT IV



SCENE II	Camp near Sardis. Before BRUTUS's tent.


	[Drum. Enter BRUTUS, LUCILIUS, LUCIUS, and
	Soldiers; TITINIUS and PINDARUS meeting them]

BRUTUS	Stand, ho!

LUCILIUS	Give the word, ho! and stand.

BRUTUS	What now, Lucilius! is Cassius near?

LUCILIUS	He is at hand; and Pindarus is come
	To do you salutation from his master.

BRUTUS	He greets me well. Your master, Pindarus,
	In his own change, or by ill officers,
	Hath given me some worthy cause to wish
	Things done, undone: but, if he be at hand,
	I shall be satisfied.

PINDARUS	I do not doubt
	But that my noble master will appear
	Such as he is, full of regard and honour.

BRUTUS	He is not doubted. A word, Lucilius;
	How he received you, let me be resolved.

LUCILIUS	With courtesy and with respect enough;
	But not with such familiar instances,
	Nor with such free and friendly conference,
	As he hath used of old.

BRUTUS	Thou hast described
	A hot friend cooling: ever note, Lucilius,
	When love begins to sicken and decay,
	It useth an enforced ceremony.
	There are no tricks in plain and simple faith;
	But hollow men, like horses hot at hand,
	Make gallant show and promise of their mettle;
	But when they should endure the bloody spur,
	They fall their crests, and, like deceitful jades,
	Sink in the trial. Comes his army on?

LUCILIUS	They mean this night in Sardis to be quarter'd;
	The greater part, the horse in general,
	Are come with Cassius.

BRUTUS	Hark! he is arrived.

	[Low march within]

	March gently on to meet him.

	[Enter CASSIUS and his powers]

CASSIUS	Stand, ho!

BRUTUS	Stand, ho! Speak the word along.

First Soldier	Stand!

Second Soldier	Stand!

Third Soldier	Stand!

CASSIUS	Most noble brother, you have done me wrong.

BRUTUS	Judge me, you gods! wrong I mine enemies?
	And, if not so, how should I wrong a brother?

CASSIUS	Brutus, this sober form of yours hides wrongs;
	And when you do them--

BRUTUS	Cassius, be content.
	Speak your griefs softly: I do know you well.
	Before the eyes of both our armies here,
	Which should perceive nothing but love from us,
	Let us not wrangle: bid them move away;
	Then in my tent, Cassius, enlarge your griefs,
	And I will give you audience.

CASSIUS	Pindarus,
	Bid our commanders lead their charges off
	A little from this ground.

BRUTUS	Lucilius, do you the like; and let no man
	Come to our tent till we have done our conference.
	Let Lucius and Titinius guard our door.

	[Exeunt]




	JULIUS CAESAR


ACT IV



SCENE III	Brutus's tent.


	[Enter BRUTUS and CASSIUS]

CASSIUS	That you have wrong'd me doth appear in this:
	You have condemn'd and noted Lucius Pella
	For taking bribes here of the Sardians;
	Wherein my letters, praying on his side,
	Because I knew the man, were slighted off.

BRUTUS	You wronged yourself to write in such a case.

CASSIUS	In such a time as this it is not meet
	That every nice offence should bear his comment.

BRUTUS	Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself
	Are much condemn'd to have an itching palm;
	To sell and mart your offices for gold
	To undeservers.

CASSIUS	                  I an itching palm!
	You know that you are Brutus that speak this,
	Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last.

BRUTUS	The name of Cassius honours this corruption,
	And chastisement doth therefore hide his head.

CASSIUS	Chastisement!

BRUTUS	Remember March, the ides of March remember:
	Did not great Julius bleed for justice' sake?
	What villain touch'd his body, that did stab,
	And not for justice? What, shall one of us
	That struck the foremost man of all this world
	But for supporting robbers, shall we now
	Contaminate our fingers with base bribes,
	And sell the mighty space of our large honours
	For so much trash as may be grasped thus?
	I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon,
	Than such a Roman.

CASSIUS	                  Brutus, bay not me;
	I'll not endure it: you forget yourself,
	To hedge me in; I am a soldier, I,
	Older in practise, abler than yourself
	To make conditions.

BRUTUS	Go to; you are not, Cassius.

CASSIUS	I am.

BRUTUS	I say you are not.

CASSIUS	Urge me no more, I shall forget myself;
	Have mind upon your health, tempt me no further.

BRUTUS	Away, slight man!

CASSIUS	Is't possible?

BRUTUS	                  Hear me, for I will speak.
	Must I give way and room to your rash choler?
	Shall I be frighted when a madman stares?

CASSIUS	O ye gods, ye gods! must I endure all this?

BRUTUS	All this! ay, more: fret till your proud heart break;
	Go show your slaves how choleric you are,
	And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge?
	Must I observe you? must I stand and crouch
	Under your testy humour? By the gods
	You shall digest the venom of your spleen,
	Though it do split you; for, from this day forth,
	I'll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter,
	When you are waspish.

CASSIUS	Is it come to this?

BRUTUS	You say you are a better soldier:
	Let it appear so; make your vaunting true,
	And it shall please me well: for mine own part,
	I shall be glad to learn of noble men.

CASSIUS	You wrong me every way; you wrong me, Brutus;
	I said, an elder soldier, not a better:
	Did I say 'better'?

BRUTUS	If you did, I care not.

CASSIUS	When Caesar lived, he durst not thus have moved me.

BRUTUS	Peace, peace! you durst not so have tempted him.

CASSIUS	I durst not!

BRUTUS	No.

CASSIUS	What, durst not tempt him!

BRUTUS	For your life you durst not!

CASSIUS	Do not presume too much upon my love;
	I may do that I shall be sorry for.

BRUTUS	You have done that you should be sorry for.
	There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats,
	For I am arm'd so strong in honesty
	That they pass by me as the idle wind,
	Which I respect not. I did send to you
	For certain sums of gold, which you denied me:
	For I can raise no money by vile means:
	By heaven, I had rather coin my heart,
	And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring
	From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash
	By any indirection: I did send
	To you for gold to pay my legions,
	Which you denied me: was that done like Cassius?
	Should I have answer'd Caius Cassius so?
	When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous,
	To lock such rascal counters from his friends,
	Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts;
	Dash him to pieces!

CASSIUS	I denied you not.

BRUTUS	You did.

CASSIUS	I did not: he was but a fool that brought
	My answer back. Brutus hath rived my heart:
	A friend should bear his friend's infirmities,
	But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.

BRUTUS	I do not, till you practise them on me.

CASSIUS	You love me not.

BRUTUS	                  I do not like your faults.

CASSIUS	A friendly eye could never see such faults.

BRUTUS	A flatterer's would not, though they do appear
	As huge as high Olympus.

CASSIUS	Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come,
	Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius,
	For Cassius is aweary of the world;
	Hated by one he loves; braved by his brother;
	Cheque'd like a bondman; all his faults observed,
	Set in a note-book, learn'd, and conn'd by rote,
	To cast into my teeth. O, I could weep
	My spirit from mine eyes! There is my dagger,
	And here my naked breast; within, a heart
	Dearer than Plutus' mine, richer than gold:
	If that thou be'st a Roman, take it forth;
	I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart:
	Strike, as thou didst at Caesar; for, I know,
	When thou didst hate him worst, thou lovedst him better
	Than ever thou lovedst Cassius.

BRUTUS	Sheathe your dagger:
	Be angry when you will, it shall have scope;
	Do what you will, dishonour shall be humour.
	O Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb
	That carries anger as the flint bears fire;
	Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark,
	And straight is cold again.

CASSIUS	Hath Cassius lived
	To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus,
	When grief, and blood ill-temper'd, vexeth him?

BRUTUS	When I spoke that, I was ill-temper'd too.

CASSIUS	Do you confess so much? Give me your hand.

BRUTUS	And my heart too.

CASSIUS	                  O Brutus!

BRUTUS	What's the matter?

CASSIUS	Have not you love enough to bear with me,
	When that rash humour which my mother gave me
	Makes me forgetful?

BRUTUS	Yes, Cassius; and, from henceforth,
	When you are over-earnest with your Brutus,
	He'll think your mother chides, and leave you so.

Poet	[Within]  Let me go in to see the generals;
	There is some grudge between 'em, 'tis not meet
	They be alone.

LUCILIUS	[Within]  You shall not come to them.

Poet	[Within]  Nothing but death shall stay me.

	[Enter Poet, followed by LUCILIUS, TITINIUS, and LUCIUS]

CASSIUS	How now! what's the matter?

Poet	For shame, you generals! what do you mean?
	Love, and be friends, as two such men should be;
	For I have seen more years, I'm sure, than ye.

CASSIUS	Ha, ha! how vilely doth this cynic rhyme!

BRUTUS	Get you hence, sirrah; saucy fellow, hence!

CASSIUS	Bear with him, Brutus; 'tis his fashion.

BRUTUS	I'll know his humour, when he knows his time:
	What should the wars do with these jigging fools?
	Companion, hence!

CASSIUS	                  Away, away, be gone.

	[Exit Poet]

BRUTUS	Lucilius and Titinius, bid the commanders
	Prepare to lodge their companies to-night.

CASSIUS	And come yourselves, and bring Messala with you
	Immediately to us.

	[Exeunt LUCILIUS and TITINIUS]

BRUTUS	Lucius, a bowl of wine!

	[Exit LUCIUS]

CASSIUS	I did not think you could have been so angry.

BRUTUS	O Cassius, I am sick of many griefs.

CASSIUS	Of your philosophy you make no use,
	If you give place to accidental evils.

BRUTUS	No man bears sorrow better. Portia is dead.

CASSIUS	Ha! Portia!

BRUTUS	She is dead.

CASSIUS	How 'scaped I killing when I cross'd you so?
	O insupportable and touching loss!
	Upon what sickness?

BRUTUS	Impatient of my absence,
	And grief that young Octavius with Mark Antony
	Have made themselves so strong:--for with her death
	That tidings came;--with this she fell distract,
	And, her attendants absent, swallow'd fire.

CASSIUS	And died so?

BRUTUS	                  Even so.

CASSIUS	O ye immortal gods!

	[Re-enter LUCIUS, with wine and taper]

BRUTUS	Speak no more of her. Give me a bowl of wine.
	In this I bury all unkindness, Cassius.

CASSIUS	My heart is thirsty for that noble pledge.
	Fill, Lucius, till the wine o'erswell the cup;
	I cannot drink too much of Brutus' love.

BRUTUS	Come in, Titinius!

	[Exit LUCIUS]

	[Re-enter TITINIUS, with MESSALA]

	Welcome, good Messala.
	Now sit we close about this taper here,
	And call in question our necessities.

CASSIUS	Portia, art thou gone?

BRUTUS	No more, I pray you.
	Messala, I have here received letters,
	That young Octavius and Mark Antony
	Come down upon us with a mighty power,
	Bending their expedition toward Philippi.

MESSALA	Myself have letters of the selfsame tenor.

BRUTUS	With what addition?

MESSALA	That by proscription and bills of outlawry,
	Octavius, Antony, and Lepidus,
	Have put to death an hundred senators.

BRUTUS	Therein our letters do not well agree;
	Mine speak of seventy senators that died
	By their proscriptions, Cicero being one.

CASSIUS	Cicero one!

MESSALA	          Cicero is dead,
	And by that order of proscription.
	Had you your letters from your wife, my lord?

BRUTUS	No, Messala.

MESSALA	Nor nothing in your letters writ of her?

BRUTUS	Nothing, Messala.

MESSALA	                  That, methinks, is strange.

BRUTUS	Why ask you? hear you aught of her in yours?

MESSALA	No, my lord.

BRUTUS	Now, as you are a Roman, tell me true.

MESSALA	Then like a Roman bear the truth I tell:
	For certain she is dead, and by strange manner.

BRUTUS	Why, farewell, Portia. We must die, Messala:
	With meditating that she must die once,
	I have the patience to endure it now.

MESSALA	Even so great men great losses should endure.

CASSIUS	I have as much of this in art as you,
	But yet my nature could not bear it so.

BRUTUS	Well, to our work alive. What do you think
	Of marching to Philippi presently?

CASSIUS	I do not think it good.

BRUTUS	Your reason?

CASSIUS	This it is:
	'Tis better that the enemy seek us:
	So shall he waste his means, weary his soldiers,
	Doing himself offence; whilst we, lying still,
	Are full of rest, defense, and nimbleness.

BRUTUS	Good reasons must, of force, give place to better.
	The people 'twixt Philippi and this ground
	Do stand but in a forced affection;
	For they have grudged us contribution:
	The enemy, marching along by them,
	By them shall make a fuller number up,
	Come on refresh'd, new-added, and encouraged;
	From which advantage shall we cut him off,
	If at Philippi we do face him there,
	These people at our back.

CASSIUS	Hear me, good brother.

BRUTUS	Under your pardon. You must note beside,
	That we have tried the utmost of our friends,
	Our legions are brim-full, our cause is ripe:
	The enemy increaseth every day;
	We, at the height, are ready to decline.
	There is a tide in the affairs of men,
	Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
	Omitted, all the voyage of their life
	Is bound in shallows and in miseries.
	On such a full sea are we now afloat;
	And we must take the current when it serves,
	Or lose our ventures.

CASSIUS	Then, with your will, go on;
	We'll along ourselves, and meet them at Philippi.

BRUTUS	The deep of night is crept upon our talk,
	And nature must obey necessity;
	Which we will niggard with a little rest.
	There is no more to say?

CASSIUS	No more. Good night:
	Early to-morrow will we rise, and hence.

BRUTUS	Lucius!

	[Enter LUCIUS]
	My gown.

	[Exit LUCIUS]

	Farewell, good Messala:
	Good night, Titinius. Noble, noble Cassius,
	Good night, and good repose.

CASSIUS	O my dear brother!
	This was an ill beginning of the night:
	Never come such division 'tween our souls!
	Let it not, Brutus.

BRUTUS	Every thing is well.

CASSIUS	Good night, my lord.

BRUTUS	Good night, good brother.


TITINIUS	|
	| Good night, Lord Brutus.
MESSALA	|


BRUTUS	Farewell, every one.

	[Exeunt all but BRUTUS]

	[Re-enter LUCIUS, with the gown]

	Give me the gown. Where is thy instrument?

LUCIUS	Here in the tent.

BRUTUS	                  What, thou speak'st drowsily?
	Poor knave, I blame thee not; thou art o'er-watch'd.
	Call Claudius and some other of my men:
	I'll have them sleep on cushions in my tent.

LUCIUS	Varro and Claudius!

	[Enter VARRO and CLAUDIUS]

VARRO	Calls my lord?

BRUTUS	I pray you, sirs, lie in my tent and sleep;
	It may be I shall raise you by and by
	On business to my brother Cassius.

VARRO	So please you, we will stand and watch your pleasure.

BRUTUS	I will not have it so: lie down, good sirs;
	It may be I shall otherwise bethink me.
	Look, Lucius, here's the book I sought for so;
	I put it in the pocket of my gown.

	[VARRO and CLAUDIUS lie down]

LUCIUS	I was sure your lordship did not give it me.

BRUTUS	Bear with me, good boy, I am much forgetful.
	Canst thou hold up thy heavy eyes awhile,
	And touch thy instrument a strain or two?

LUCIUS	Ay, my lord, an't please you.

BRUTUS	It does, my boy:
	I trouble thee too much, but thou art willing.

LUCIUS	It is my duty, sir.

BRUTUS	I should not urge thy duty past thy might;
	I know young bloods look for a time of rest.

LUCIUS	I have slept, my lord, already.

BRUTUS	It was well done; and thou shalt sleep again;
	I will not hold thee long: if I do live,
	I will be good to thee.

	[Music, and a song]

	This is a sleepy tune. O murderous slumber,
	Lay'st thou thy leaden mace upon my boy,
	That plays thee music? Gentle knave, good night;
	I will not do thee so much wrong to wake thee:
	If thou dost nod, thou break'st thy instrument;
	I'll take it from thee; and, good boy, good night.
	Let me see, let me see; is not the leaf turn'd down
	Where I left reading? Here it is, I think.

	[Enter the Ghost of CAESAR]

	How ill this taper burns! Ha! who comes here?
	I think it is the weakness of mine eyes
	That shapes this monstrous apparition.
	It comes upon me. Art thou any thing?
	Art thou some god, some angel, or some devil,
	That makest my blood cold and my hair to stare?
	Speak to me what thou art.

GHOST	Thy evil spirit, Brutus.

BRUTUS	Why comest thou?

GHOST	To tell thee thou shalt see me at Philippi.

BRUTUS	Well; then I shall see thee again?

GHOST	Ay, at Philippi.

BRUTUS	Why, I will see thee at Philippi, then.

	[Exit Ghost]

	Now I have taken heart thou vanishest:
	Ill spirit, I would hold more talk with thee.
	Boy, Lucius! Varro! Claudius! Sirs, awake! Claudius!

LUCIUS	The strings, my lord, are false.

BRUTUS	He thinks he still is at his instrument.
	Lucius, awake!

LUCIUS	My lord?

BRUTUS	Didst thou dream, Lucius, that thou so criedst out?

LUCIUS	My lord, I do not know that I did cry.

BRUTUS	Yes, that thou didst: didst thou see any thing?

LUCIUS	Nothing, my lord.

BRUTUS	Sleep again, Lucius. Sirrah Claudius!

	[To VARRO]

	Fellow thou, awake!

VARRO	My lord?

CLAUDIUS	My lord?

BRUTUS	Why did you so cry out, sirs, in your sleep?


VARRO	|
	|  Did we, my lord?
CLAUDIUS	|


BRUTUS	Ay: saw you any thing?

VARRO	No, my lord, I saw nothing.

CLAUDIUS	Nor I, my lord.

BRUTUS	Go and commend me to my brother Cassius;
	Bid him set on his powers betimes before,
	And we will follow.


VARRO	|
	|                It shall be done, my lord.
CLAUDIUS	|


	[Exeunt]




	JULIUS CAESAR


ACT V



SCENE I	The plains of Philippi.


	[Enter OCTAVIUS, ANTONY, and their army]

OCTAVIUS	Now, Antony, our hopes are answered:
	You said the enemy would not come down,
	But keep the hills and upper regions;
	It proves not so: their battles are at hand;
	They mean to warn us at Philippi here,
	Answering before we do demand of them.

ANTONY	Tut, I am in their bosoms, and I know
	Wherefore they do it: they could be content
	To visit other places; and come down
	With fearful bravery, thinking by this face
	To fasten in our thoughts that they have courage;
	But 'tis not so.

	[Enter a Messenger]

Messenger	                  Prepare you, generals:
	The enemy comes on in gallant show;
	Their bloody sign of battle is hung out,
	And something to be done immediately.

ANTONY	Octavius, lead your battle softly on,
	Upon the left hand of the even field.

OCTAVIUS	Upon the right hand I; keep thou the left.

ANTONY	Why do you cross me in this exigent?

OCTAVIUS	I do not cross you; but I will do so.

	[March]

	[Drum. Enter BRUTUS, CASSIUS, and their Army;
	LUCILIUS, TITINIUS, MESSALA, and others]

BRUTUS	They stand, and would have parley.

CASSIUS	Stand fast, Titinius: we must out and talk.

OCTAVIUS	Mark Antony, shall we give sign of battle?

ANTONY	No, Caesar, we will answer on their charge.
	Make forth; the generals would have some words.

OCTAVIUS	Stir not until the signal.

BRUTUS	Words before blows: is it so, countrymen?

OCTAVIUS	Not that we love words better, as you do.

BRUTUS	Good words are better than bad strokes, Octavius.

ANTONY	In your bad strokes, Brutus, you give good words:
	Witness the hole you made in Caesar's heart,
	Crying 'Long live! hail, Caesar!'

CASSIUS	Antony,
	The posture of your blows are yet unknown;
	But for your words, they rob the Hybla bees,
	And leave them honeyless.

ANTONY	Not stingless too.

BRUTUS	O, yes, and soundless too;
	For you have stol'n their buzzing, Antony,
	And very wisely threat before you sting.

ANTONY	Villains, you did not so, when your vile daggers
	Hack'd one another in the sides of Caesar:
	You show'd your teeth like apes, and fawn'd like hounds,
	And bow'd like bondmen, kissing Caesar's feet;
	Whilst damned Casca, like a cur, behind
	Struck Caesar on the neck. O you flatterers!

CASSIUS	Flatterers! Now, Brutus, thank yourself:
	This tongue had not offended so to-day,
	If Cassius might have ruled.

OCTAVIUS	Come, come, the cause: if arguing make us sweat,
	The proof of it will turn to redder drops. Look;
	I draw a sword against conspirators;
	When think you that the sword goes up again?
	Never, till Caesar's three and thirty wounds
	Be well avenged; or till another Caesar
	Have added slaughter to the sword of traitors.

BRUTUS	Caesar, thou canst not die by traitors' hands,
	Unless thou bring'st them with thee.

OCTAVIUS	So I hope;
	I was not born to die on Brutus' sword.

BRUTUS	O, if thou wert the noblest of thy strain,
	Young man, thou couldst not die more honourable.

CASSIUS	A peevish schoolboy, worthless of such honour,
	Join'd with a masker and a reveller!

ANTONY	Old Cassius still!

OCTAVIUS	                  Come, Antony, away!
	Defiance, traitors, hurl we in your teeth:
	If you dare fight to-day, come to the field;
	If not, when you have stomachs.

	[Exeunt OCTAVIUS, ANTONY, and their army]

CASSIUS	Why, now, blow wind, swell billow and swim bark!
	The storm is up, and all is on the hazard.

BRUTUS	Ho, Lucilius! hark, a word with you.

LUCILIUS	[Standing forth]	My lord?

	[BRUTUS and LUCILIUS converse apart]

CASSIUS	Messala!

MESSALA	[Standing forth]  What says my general?

CASSIUS	Messala,
	This is my birth-day; as this very day
	Was Cassius born. Give me thy hand, Messala:
	Be thou my witness that against my will,
	As Pompey was, am I compell'd to set
	Upon one battle all our liberties.
	You know that I held Epicurus strong
	And his opinion: now I change my mind,
	And partly credit things that do presage.
	Coming from Sardis, on our former ensign
	Two mighty eagles fell, and there they perch'd,
	Gorging and feeding from our soldiers' hands;
	Who to Philippi here consorted us:
	This morning are they fled away and gone;
	And in their steads do ravens, crows and kites,
	Fly o'er our heads and downward look on us,
	As we were sickly prey: their shadows seem
	A canopy most fatal, under which
	Our army lies, ready to give up the ghost.

MESSALA	Believe not so.

CASSIUS	                  I but believe it partly;
	For I am fresh of spirit and resolved
	To meet all perils very constantly.

BRUTUS	Even so, Lucilius.

CASSIUS	                  Now, most noble Brutus,
	The gods to-day stand friendly, that we may,
	Lovers in peace, lead on our days to age!
	But since the affairs of men rest still incertain,
	Let's reason with the worst that may befall.
	If we do lose this battle, then is this
	The very last time we shall speak together:
	What are you then determined to do?

BRUTUS	Even by the rule of that philosophy
	By which I did blame Cato for the death
	Which he did give himself, I know not how,
	But I do find it cowardly and vile,
	For fear of what might fall, so to prevent
	The time of life: arming myself with patience
	To stay the providence of some high powers
	That govern us below.

CASSIUS	Then, if we lose this battle,
	You are contented to be led in triumph
	Thorough the streets of Rome?

BRUTUS	No, Cassius, no: think not, thou noble Roman,
	That ever Brutus will go bound to Rome;
	He bears too great a mind. But this same day
	Must end that work the ides of March begun;
	And whether we shall meet again I know not.
	Therefore our everlasting farewell take:
	For ever, and for ever, farewell, Cassius!
	If we do meet again, why, we shall smile;
	If not, why then, this parting was well made.

CASSIUS	For ever, and for ever, farewell, Brutus!
	If we do meet again, we'll smile indeed;
	If not, 'tis true this parting was well made.

BRUTUS	Why, then, lead on. O, that a man might know
	The end of this day's business ere it come!
	But it sufficeth that the day will end,
	And then the end is known. Come, ho! away!

	[Exeunt]




	JULIUS CAESAR


ACT V



SCENE II	The same. The field of battle.


	[Alarum. Enter BRUTUS and MESSALA]

BRUTUS	Ride, ride, Messala, ride, and give these bills
	Unto the legions on the other side.

	[Loud alarum]

	Let them set on at once; for I perceive
	But cold demeanor in Octavius' wing,
	And sudden push gives them the overthrow.
	Ride, ride, Messala: let them all come down.

	[Exeunt]




	JULIUS CAESAR


ACT V



SCENE III	Another part of the field.


	[Alarums. Enter CASSIUS and TITINIUS]

CASSIUS	O, look, Titinius, look, the villains fly!
	Myself have to mine own turn'd enemy:
	This ensign here of mine was turning back;
	I slew the coward, and did take it from him.

TITINIUS	O Cassius, Brutus gave the word too early;
	Who, having some advantage on Octavius,
	Took it too eagerly: his soldiers fell to spoil,
	Whilst we by Antony are all enclosed.

	[Enter PINDARUS]

PINDARUS	Fly further off, my lord, fly further off;
	Mark Antony is in your tents, my lord
	Fly, therefore, noble Cassius, fly far off.

CASSIUS	This hill is far enough. Look, look, Titinius;
	Are those my tents where I perceive the fire?

TITINIUS	They are, my lord.

CASSIUS	                  Titinius, if thou lovest me,
	Mount thou my horse, and hide thy spurs in him,
	Till he have brought thee up to yonder troops,
	And here again; that I may rest assured
	Whether yond troops are friend or enemy.

TITINIUS	I will be here again, even with a thought.

	[Exit]

CASSIUS	Go, Pindarus, get higher on that hill;
	My sight was ever thick; regard Titinius,
	And tell me what thou notest about the field.

	[PINDARUS ascends the hill]

	This day I breathed first: time is come round,
	And where I did begin, there shall I end;
	My life is run his compass. Sirrah, what news?

PINDARUS	[Above]  O my lord!

CASSIUS	What news?

PINDARUS	[Above]  Titinius is enclosed round about
	With horsemen, that make to him on the spur;
	Yet he spurs on. Now they are almost on him.
	Now, Titinius! Now some light. O, he lights too.
	He's ta'en.

	[Shout]

	And, hark! they shout for joy.

CASSIUS	Come down, behold no more.
	O, coward that I am, to live so long,
	To see my best friend ta'en before my face!

	[PINDARUS descends]

	Come hither, sirrah:
	In Parthia did I take thee prisoner;
	And then I swore thee, saving of thy life,
	That whatsoever I did bid thee do,
	Thou shouldst attempt it. Come now, keep thine oath;
	Now be a freeman: and with this good sword,
	That ran through Caesar's bowels, search this bosom.
	Stand not to answer: here, take thou the hilts;
	And, when my face is cover'd, as 'tis now,
	Guide thou the sword.

	[PINDARUS stabs him]

		Caesar, thou art revenged,
	Even with the sword that kill'd thee.

	[Dies]

PINDARUS	So, I am free; yet would not so have been,
	Durst I have done my will. O Cassius,
	Far from this country Pindarus shall run,
	Where never Roman shall take note of him.

	[Exit]

	[Re-enter TITINIUS with MESSALA]

MESSALA	It is but change, Titinius; for Octavius
	Is overthrown by noble Brutus' power,
	As Cassius' legions are by Antony.

TITINIUS	These tidings will well comfort Cassius.

MESSALA	Where did you leave him?

TITINIUS	All disconsolate,
	With Pindarus his bondman, on this hill.

MESSALA	Is not that he that lies upon the ground?

TITINIUS	He lies not like the living. O my heart!

MESSALA	Is not that he?

TITINIUS	                  No, this was he, Messala,
	But Cassius is no more. O setting sun,
	As in thy red rays thou dost sink to-night,
	So in his red blood Cassius' day is set;
	The sun of Rome is set! Our day is gone;
	Clouds, dews, and dangers come; our deeds are done!
	Mistrust of my success hath done this deed.

MESSALA	Mistrust of good success hath done this deed.
	O hateful error, melancholy's child,
	Why dost thou show to the apt thoughts of men
	The things that are not? O error, soon conceived,
	Thou never comest unto a happy birth,
	But kill'st the mother that engender'd thee!

TITINIUS	What, Pindarus! where art thou, Pindarus?

MESSALA	Seek him, Titinius, whilst I go to meet
	The noble Brutus, thrusting this report
	Into his ears; I may say, thrusting it;
	For piercing steel and darts envenomed
	Shall be as welcome to the ears of Brutus
	As tidings of this sight.

TITINIUS	Hie you, Messala,
	And I will seek for Pindarus the while.

	[Exit MESSALA]

	Why didst thou send me forth, brave Cassius?
	Did I not meet thy friends? and did not they
	Put on my brows this wreath of victory,
	And bid me give it thee? Didst thou not hear their shouts?
	Alas, thou hast misconstrued every thing!
	But, hold thee, take this garland on thy brow;
	Thy Brutus bid me give it thee, and I
	Will do his bidding. Brutus, come apace,
	And see how I regarded Caius Cassius.
	By your leave, gods:--this is a Roman's part
	Come, Cassius' sword, and find Titinius' heart.

	[Kills himself]

	[Alarum. Re-enter MESSALA, with BRUTUS, CATO,
	STRATO, VOLUMNIUS, and LUCILIUS]

BRUTUS	Where, where, Messala, doth his body lie?

MESSALA	Lo, yonder, and Titinius mourning it.

BRUTUS	Titinius' face is upward.

CATO	He is slain.

BRUTUS	O Julius Caesar, thou art mighty yet!
	Thy spirit walks abroad and turns our swords
	In our own proper entrails.

	[Low alarums]

CATO	Brave Titinius!
	Look, whether he have not crown'd dead Cassius!

BRUTUS	Are yet two Romans living such as these?
	The last of all the Romans, fare thee well!
	It is impossible that ever Rome
	Should breed thy fellow. Friends, I owe more tears
	To this dead man than you shall see me pay.
	I shall find time, Cassius, I shall find time.
	Come, therefore, and to Thasos send his body:
	His funerals shall not be in our camp,
	Lest it discomfort us. Lucilius, come;
	And come, young Cato; let us to the field.
	Labeo and Flavius, set our battles on:
	'Tis three o'clock; and, Romans, yet ere night
	We shall try fortune in a second fight.

	[Exeunt]




	JULIUS CAESAR


ACT V



SCENE IV	Another part of the field.


	[Alarum. Enter fighting, Soldiers of both armies;
	then BRUTUS, CATO, LUCILIUS, and others]

BRUTUS	Yet, countrymen, O, yet hold up your heads!

CATO	What bastard doth not? Who will go with me?
	I will proclaim my name about the field:
	I am the son of Marcus Cato, ho!
	A foe to tyrants, and my country's friend;
	I am the son of Marcus Cato, ho!

BRUTUS	And I am Brutus, Marcus Brutus, I;
	Brutus, my country's friend; know me for Brutus!

	[Exit]

LUCILIUS	O young and noble Cato, art thou down?
	Why, now thou diest as bravely as Titinius;
	And mayst be honour'd, being Cato's son.

First Soldier	Yield, or thou diest.

LUCILIUS	Only I yield to die:
	There is so much that thou wilt kill me straight;

	[Offering money]

	Kill Brutus, and be honour'd in his death.

First Soldier	We must not. A noble prisoner!

Second Soldier	Room, ho! Tell Antony, Brutus is ta'en.

First Soldier	I'll tell the news. Here comes the general.

	[Enter ANTONY]

	Brutus is ta'en, Brutus is ta'en, my lord.

ANTONY	Where is he?

LUCILIUS	Safe, Antony; Brutus is safe enough:
	I dare assure thee that no enemy
	Shall ever take alive the noble Brutus:
	The gods defend him from so great a shame!
	When you do find him, or alive or dead,
	He will be found like Brutus, like himself.

ANTONY	This is not Brutus, friend; but, I assure you,
	A prize no less in worth: keep this man safe;
	Give him all kindness: I had rather have
	Such men my friends than enemies. Go on,
	And see whether Brutus be alive or dead;
	And bring us word unto Octavius' tent
	How every thing is chanced.

	[Exeunt]




	JULIUS CAESAR


ACT V



SCENE V	Another part of the field.


	[Enter BRUTUS, DARDANIUS, CLITUS, STRATO, and
	VOLUMNIUS]

BRUTUS	Come, poor remains of friends, rest on this rock.

CLITUS	Statilius show'd the torch-light, but, my lord,
	He came not back: he is or ta'en or slain.

BRUTUS	Sit thee down, Clitus: slaying is the word;
	It is a deed in fashion. Hark thee, Clitus.

	[Whispers]

CLITUS	What, I, my lord? No, not for all the world.

BRUTUS	Peace then! no words.

CLITUS	I'll rather kill myself.

BRUTUS	Hark thee, Dardanius.

	[Whispers]

DARDANIUS	Shall I do such a deed?

CLITUS	O Dardanius!

DARDANIUS	O Clitus!

CLITUS	What ill request did Brutus make to thee?

DARDANIUS	To kill him, Clitus. Look, he meditates.

CLITUS	Now is that noble vessel full of grief,
	That it runs over even at his eyes.

BRUTUS	Come hither, good Volumnius; list a word.

VOLUMNIUS	What says my lord?

BRUTUS	                  Why, this, Volumnius:
	The ghost of Caesar hath appear'd to me
	Two several times by night; at Sardis once,
	And, this last night, here in Philippi fields:
	I know my hour is come.

VOLUMNIUS	Not so, my lord.

BRUTUS	Nay, I am sure it is, Volumnius.
	Thou seest the world, Volumnius, how it goes;
	Our enemies have beat us to the pit:

	[Low alarums]

	It is more worthy to leap in ourselves,
	Than tarry till they push us. Good Volumnius,
	Thou know'st that we two went to school together:
	Even for that our love of old, I prithee,
	Hold thou my sword-hilts, whilst I run on it.

VOLUMNIUS	That's not an office for a friend, my lord.

	[Alarum still]

CLITUS	Fly, fly, my lord; there is no tarrying here.

BRUTUS	Farewell to you; and you; and you, Volumnius.
	Strato, thou hast been all this while asleep;
	Farewell to thee too, Strato. Countrymen,
	My heart doth joy that yet in all my life
	I found no man but he was true to me.
	I shall have glory by this losing day
	More than Octavius and Mark Antony
	By this vile conquest shall attain unto.
	So fare you well at once; for Brutus' tongue
	Hath almost ended his life's history:
	Night hangs upon mine eyes; my bones would rest,
	That have but labour'd to attain this hour.

	[Alarum. Cry within, 'Fly, fly, fly!']

CLITUS	Fly, my lord, fly.

BRUTUS	                  Hence! I will follow.

	[Exeunt CLITUS, DARDANIUS, and VOLUMNIUS]

	I prithee, Strato, stay thou by thy lord:
	Thou art a fellow of a good respect;
	Thy life hath had some smatch of honour in it:
	Hold then my sword, and turn away thy face,
	While I do run upon it. Wilt thou, Strato?

STRATO	Give me your hand first. Fare you well, my lord.

BRUTUS	Farewell, good Strato.

	[Runs on his sword]

		 Caesar, now be still:
	I kill'd not thee with half so good a will.

	[Dies]

	[Alarum. Retreat. Enter OCTAVIUS, ANTONY, MESSALA,
	LUCILIUS, and the army]

OCTAVIUS	What man is that?

MESSALA	My master's man. Strato, where is thy master?

STRATO	Free from the bondage you are in, Messala:
	The conquerors can but make a fire of him;
	For Brutus only overcame himself,
	And no man else hath honour by his death.

LUCILIUS	So Brutus should be found. I thank thee, Brutus,
	That thou hast proved Lucilius' saying true.

OCTAVIUS	All that served Brutus, I will entertain them.
	Fellow, wilt thou bestow thy time with me?

STRATO	Ay, if Messala will prefer me to you.

OCTAVIUS	Do so, good Messala.

MESSALA	How died my master, Strato?

STRATO	I held the sword, and he did run on it.

MESSALA	Octavius, then take him to follow thee,
	That did the latest service to my master.

ANTONY	This was the noblest Roman of them all:
	All the conspirators save only he
	Did that they did in envy of great Caesar;
	He only, in a general honest thought
	And common good to all, made one of them.
	His life was gentle, and the elements
	So mix'd in him that Nature might stand up
	And say to all the world 'This was a man!'

OCTAVIUS	According to his virtue let us use him,
	With all respect and rites of burial.
	Within my tent his bones to-night shall lie,
	Most like a soldier, order'd honourably.
	So call the field to rest; and let's away,
	To part the glories of this happy day.

	[Exeunt]




	HAMLET


	DRAMATIS PERSONAE


CLAUDIUS	king of Denmark. (KING CLAUDIUS:)

HAMLET	son to the late, and nephew to the present king.

POLONIUS	lord chamberlain. (LORD POLONIUS:)

HORATIO	friend to Hamlet.

LAERTES	son to Polonius.

LUCIANUS	nephew to the king.


VOLTIMAND	|
	|
CORNELIUS	|
	|
ROSENCRANTZ	|  courtiers.
	|
GUILDENSTERN	|
	|
OSRIC	|


	A Gentleman, (Gentlemen:)

	A Priest. (First Priest:)


MARCELLUS	|
	|  officers.
BERNARDO	|


FRANCISCO	a soldier.

REYNALDO	servant to Polonius.
	Players.
	(First Player:)
	(Player King:)
	(Player Queen:)

	Two Clowns, grave-diggers.
	(First Clown:)
	(Second Clown:)

FORTINBRAS	prince of Norway. (PRINCE FORTINBRAS:)

	A Captain.

	English Ambassadors. (First Ambassador:)

GERTRUDE	queen of Denmark, and mother to Hamlet.
	(QUEEN GERTRUDE:)

OPHELIA	daughter to Polonius.

	Lords, Ladies, Officers, Soldiers, Sailors, Messengers,
	and other Attendants. (Lord:)
	(First Sailor:)
	(Messenger:)

	Ghost of Hamlet's Father. (Ghost:)



SCENE	Denmark.




	HAMLET


ACT I



SCENE I	Elsinore. A platform before the castle.


	[FRANCISCO at his post. Enter to him BERNARDO]

BERNARDO	Who's there?

FRANCISCO	Nay, answer me: stand, and unfold yourself.

BERNARDO	Long live the king!

FRANCISCO	Bernardo?

BERNARDO	He.

FRANCISCO	You come most carefully upon your hour.

BERNARDO	'Tis now struck twelve; get thee to bed, Francisco.

FRANCISCO	For this relief much thanks: 'tis bitter cold,
	And I am sick at heart.

BERNARDO	Have you had quiet guard?

FRANCISCO	Not a mouse stirring.

BERNARDO	Well, good night.
	If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus,
	The rivals of my watch, bid them make haste.

FRANCISCO	I think I hear them. Stand, ho! Who's there?

	[Enter HORATIO and MARCELLUS]

HORATIO	Friends to this ground.

MARCELLUS	And liegemen to the Dane.

FRANCISCO	Give you good night.

MARCELLUS	O, farewell, honest soldier:
	Who hath relieved you?

FRANCISCO	Bernardo has my place.
	Give you good night.

	[Exit]

MARCELLUS	Holla! Bernardo!

BERNARDO	Say,
	What, is Horatio there?

HORATIO	A piece of him.

BERNARDO	Welcome, Horatio: welcome, good Marcellus.

MARCELLUS	What, has this thing appear'd again to-night?

BERNARDO	I have seen nothing.

MARCELLUS	Horatio says 'tis but our fantasy,
	And will not let belief take hold of him
	Touching this dreaded sight, twice seen of us:
	Therefore I have entreated him along
	With us to watch the minutes of this night;
	That if again this apparition come,
	He may approve our eyes and speak to it.

HORATIO	Tush, tush, 'twill not appear.

BERNARDO	Sit down awhile;
	And let us once again assail your ears,
	That are so fortified against our story
	What we have two nights seen.

HORATIO	Well, sit we down,
	And let us hear Bernardo speak of this.

BERNARDO	Last night of all,
	When yond same star that's westward from the pole
	Had made his course to illume that part of heaven
	Where now it burns, Marcellus and myself,
	The bell then beating one,--

	[Enter Ghost]

MARCELLUS	Peace, break thee off; look, where it comes again!

BERNARDO	In the same figure, like the king that's dead.

MARCELLUS	Thou art a scholar; speak to it, Horatio.

BERNARDO	Looks it not like the king?  mark it, Horatio.

HORATIO	Most like: it harrows me with fear and wonder.

BERNARDO	It would be spoke to.

MARCELLUS	Question it, Horatio.

HORATIO	What art thou that usurp'st this time of night,
	Together with that fair and warlike form
	In which the majesty of buried Denmark
	Did sometimes march? by heaven I charge thee, speak!

MARCELLUS	It is offended.

BERNARDO	                  See, it stalks away!

HORATIO	Stay! speak, speak! I charge thee, speak!

	[Exit Ghost]

MARCELLUS	'Tis gone, and will not answer.

BERNARDO	How now, Horatio! you tremble and look pale:
	Is not this something more than fantasy?
	What think you on't?

HORATIO	Before my God, I might not this believe
	Without the sensible and true avouch
	Of mine own eyes.

MARCELLUS	                  Is it not like the king?

HORATIO	As thou art to thyself:
	Such was the very armour he had on
	When he the ambitious Norway combated;
	So frown'd he once, when, in an angry parle,
	He smote the sledded Polacks on the ice.
	'Tis strange.

MARCELLUS	Thus twice before, and jump at this dead hour,
	With martial stalk hath he gone by our watch.

HORATIO	In what particular thought to work I know not;
	But in the gross and scope of my opinion,
	This bodes some strange eruption to our state.

MARCELLUS	Good now, sit down, and tell me, he that knows,
	Why this same strict and most observant watch
	So nightly toils the subject of the land,
	And why such daily cast of brazen cannon,
	And foreign mart for implements of war;
	Why such impress of shipwrights, whose sore task
	Does not divide the Sunday from the week;
	What might be toward, that this sweaty haste
	Doth make the night joint-labourer with the day:
	Who is't that can inform me?

HORATIO	That can I;
	At least, the whisper goes so. Our last king,
	Whose image even but now appear'd to us,
	Was, as you know, by Fortinbras of Norway,
	Thereto prick'd on by a most emulate pride,
	Dared to the combat; in which our valiant Hamlet--
	For so this side of our known world esteem'd him--
	Did slay this Fortinbras; who by a seal'd compact,
	Well ratified by law and heraldry,
	Did forfeit, with his life, all those his lands
	Which he stood seized of, to the conqueror:
	Against the which, a moiety competent
	Was gaged by our king; which had return'd
	To the inheritance of Fortinbras,
	Had he been vanquisher; as, by the same covenant,
	And carriage of the article design'd,
	His fell to Hamlet. Now, sir, young Fortinbras,
	Of unimproved mettle hot and full,
	Hath in the skirts of Norway here and there
	Shark'd up a list of lawless resolutes,
	For food and diet, to some enterprise
	That hath a stomach in't; which is no other--
	As it doth well appear unto our state--
	But to recover of us, by strong hand
	And terms compulsatory, those foresaid lands
	So by his father lost: and this, I take it,
	Is the main motive of our preparations,
	The source of this our watch and the chief head
	Of this post-haste and romage in the land.

BERNARDO	I think it be no other but e'en so:
	Well may it sort that this portentous figure
	Comes armed through our watch; so like the king
	That was and is the question of these wars.

HORATIO	A mote it is to trouble the mind's eye.
	In the most high and palmy state of Rome,
	A little ere the mightiest Julius fell,
	The graves stood tenantless and the sheeted dead
	Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets:
	As stars with trains of fire and dews of blood,
	Disasters in the sun; and the moist star
	Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands
	Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse:
	And even the like precurse of fierce events,
	As harbingers preceding still the fates
	And prologue to the omen coming on,
	Have heaven and earth together demonstrated
	Unto our climatures and countrymen.--
	But soft, behold! lo, where it comes again!

	[Re-enter Ghost]

	I'll cross it, though it blast me. Stay, illusion!
	If thou hast any sound, or use of voice,
	Speak to me:
	If there be any good thing to be done,
	That may to thee do ease and grace to me,
	Speak to me:

	[Cock crows]

	If thou art privy to thy country's fate,
	Which, happily, foreknowing may avoid, O, speak!
	Or if thou hast uphoarded in thy life
	Extorted treasure in the womb of earth,
	For which, they say, you spirits oft walk in death,
	Speak of it: stay, and speak! Stop it, Marcellus.

MARCELLUS	Shall I strike at it with my partisan?

HORATIO	Do, if it will not stand.

BERNARDO	'Tis here!

HORATIO	'Tis here!

MARCELLUS	'Tis gone!

	[Exit Ghost]

	We do it wrong, being so majestical,
	To offer it the show of violence;
	For it is, as the air, invulnerable,
	And our vain blows malicious mockery.

BERNARDO	It was about to speak, when the cock crew.

HORATIO	And then it started like a guilty thing
	Upon a fearful summons. I have heard,
	The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn,
	Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat
	Awake the god of day; and, at his warning,
	Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air,
	The extravagant and erring spirit hies
	To his confine: and of the truth herein
	This present object made probation.

MARCELLUS	It faded on the crowing of the cock.
	Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes
	Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,
	The bird of dawning singeth all night long:
	And then, they say, no spirit dares stir abroad;
	The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike,
	No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm,
	So hallow'd and so gracious is the time.

HORATIO	So have I heard and do in part believe it.
	But, look, the morn, in russet mantle clad,
	Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastward hill:
	Break we our watch up; and by my advice,
	Let us impart what we have seen to-night
	Unto young Hamlet; for, upon my life,
	This spirit, dumb to us, will speak to him.
	Do you consent we shall acquaint him with it,
	As needful in our loves, fitting our duty?

MARCELLUS	Let's do't, I pray; and I this morning know
	Where we shall find him most conveniently.

	[Exeunt]




	HAMLET


ACT I



SCENE II	A room of state in the castle.


	[Enter KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, HAMLET,
	POLONIUS, LAERTES, VOLTIMAND, CORNELIUS, Lords,
	and Attendants]

KING CLAUDIUS	Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's death
	The memory be green, and that it us befitted
	To bear our hearts in grief and our whole kingdom
	To be contracted in one brow of woe,
	Yet so far hath discretion fought with nature
	That we with wisest sorrow think on him,
	Together with remembrance of ourselves.
	Therefore our sometime sister, now our queen,
	The imperial jointress to this warlike state,
	Have we, as 'twere with a defeated joy,--
	With an auspicious and a dropping eye,
	With mirth in funeral and with dirge in marriage,
	In equal scale weighing delight and dole,--
	Taken to wife: nor have we herein barr'd
	Your better wisdoms, which have freely gone
	With this affair along. For all, our thanks.
	Now follows, that you know, young Fortinbras,
	Holding a weak supposal of our worth,
	Or thinking by our late dear brother's death
	Our state to be disjoint and out of frame,
	Colleagued with the dream of his advantage,
	He hath not fail'd to pester us with message,
	Importing the surrender of those lands
	Lost by his father, with all bonds of law,
	To our most valiant brother. So much for him.
	Now for ourself and for this time of meeting:
	Thus much the business is: we have here writ
	To Norway, uncle of young Fortinbras,--
	Who, impotent and bed-rid, scarcely hears
	Of this his nephew's purpose,--to suppress
	His further gait herein; in that the levies,
	The lists and full proportions, are all made
	Out of his subject: and we here dispatch
	You, good Cornelius, and you, Voltimand,
	For bearers of this greeting to old Norway;
	Giving to you no further personal power
	To business with the king, more than the scope
	Of these delated articles allow.
	Farewell, and let your haste commend your duty.


CORNELIUS	|
	|  In that and all things will we show our duty.
VOLTIMAND	|


KING CLAUDIUS	We doubt it nothing: heartily farewell.

	[Exeunt VOLTIMAND and CORNELIUS]

	And now, Laertes, what's the news with you?
	You told us of some suit; what is't, Laertes?
	You cannot speak of reason to the Dane,
	And loose your voice: what wouldst thou beg, Laertes,
	That shall not be my offer, not thy asking?
	The head is not more native to the heart,
	The hand more instrumental to the mouth,
	Than is the throne of Denmark to thy father.
	What wouldst thou have, Laertes?

LAERTES	My dread lord,
	Your leave and favour to return to France;
	From whence though willingly I came to Denmark,
	To show my duty in your coronation,
	Yet now, I must confess, that duty done,
	My thoughts and wishes bend again toward France
	And bow them to your gracious leave and pardon.

KING CLAUDIUS	Have you your father's leave? What says Polonius?

LORD POLONIUS	He hath, my lord, wrung from me my slow leave
	By laboursome petition, and at last
	Upon his will I seal'd my hard consent:
	I do beseech you, give him leave to go.

KING CLAUDIUS	Take thy fair hour, Laertes; time be thine,
	And thy best graces spend it at thy will!
	But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son,--

HAMLET	[Aside]  A little more than kin, and less than kind.

KING CLAUDIUS	How is it that the clouds still hang on you?

HAMLET	Not so, my lord; I am too much i' the sun.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour off,
	And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark.
	Do not for ever with thy vailed lids
	Seek for thy noble father in the dust:
	Thou know'st 'tis common; all that lives must die,
	Passing through nature to eternity.

HAMLET	Ay, madam, it is common.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	If it be,
	Why seems it so particular with thee?

HAMLET	Seems, madam! nay it is; I know not 'seems.'
	'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother,
	Nor customary suits of solemn black,
	Nor windy suspiration of forced breath,
	No, nor the fruitful river in the eye,
	Nor the dejected 'havior of the visage,
	Together with all forms, moods, shapes of grief,
	That can denote me truly: these indeed seem,
	For they are actions that a man might play:
	But I have that within which passeth show;
	These but the trappings and the suits of woe.

KING CLAUDIUS	'Tis sweet and commendable in your nature, Hamlet,
	To give these mourning duties to your father:
	But, you must know, your father lost a father;
	That father lost, lost his, and the survivor bound
	In filial obligation for some term
	To do obsequious sorrow: but to persever
	In obstinate condolement is a course
	Of impious stubbornness; 'tis unmanly grief;
	It shows a will most incorrect to heaven,
	A heart unfortified, a mind impatient,
	An understanding simple and unschool'd:
	For what we know must be and is as common
	As any the most vulgar thing to sense,
	Why should we in our peevish opposition
	Take it to heart? Fie! 'tis a fault to heaven,
	A fault against the dead, a fault to nature,
	To reason most absurd: whose common theme
	Is death of fathers, and who still hath cried,
	From the first corse till he that died to-day,
	'This must be so.' We pray you, throw to earth
	This unprevailing woe, and think of us
	As of a father: for let the world take note,
	You are the most immediate to our throne;
	And with no less nobility of love
	Than that which dearest father bears his son,
	Do I impart toward you. For your intent
	In going back to school in Wittenberg,
	It is most retrograde to our desire:
	And we beseech you, bend you to remain
	Here, in the cheer and comfort of our eye,
	Our chiefest courtier, cousin, and our son.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Let not thy mother lose her prayers, Hamlet:
	I pray thee, stay with us; go not to Wittenberg.

HAMLET	I shall in all my best obey you, madam.

KING CLAUDIUS	Why, 'tis a loving and a fair reply:
	Be as ourself in Denmark. Madam, come;
	This gentle and unforced accord of Hamlet
	Sits smiling to my heart: in grace whereof,
	No jocund health that Denmark drinks to-day,
	But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell,
	And the king's rouse the heavens all bruit again,
	Re-speaking earthly thunder. Come away.

	[Exeunt all but HAMLET]

HAMLET	O, that this too too solid flesh would melt
	Thaw and resolve itself into a dew!
	Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd
	His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! God!
	How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable,
	Seem to me all the uses of this world!
	Fie on't! ah fie! 'tis an unweeded garden,
	That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature
	Possess it merely. That it should come to this!
	But two months dead: nay, not so much, not two:
	So excellent a king; that was, to this,
	Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother
	That he might not beteem the winds of heaven
	Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth!
	Must I remember? why, she would hang on him,
	As if increase of appetite had grown
	By what it fed on: and yet, within a month--
	Let me not think on't--Frailty, thy name is woman!--
	A little month, or ere those shoes were old
	With which she follow'd my poor father's body,
	Like Niobe, all tears:--why she, even she--
	O, God! a beast, that wants discourse of reason,
	Would have mourn'd longer--married with my uncle,
	My father's brother, but no more like my father
	Than I to Hercules: within a month:
	Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears
	Had left the flushing in her galled eyes,
	She married. O, most wicked speed, to post
	With such dexterity to incestuous sheets!
	It is not nor it cannot come to good:
	But break, my heart; for I must hold my tongue.

	[Enter HORATIO, MARCELLUS, and BERNARDO]

HORATIO	Hail to your lordship!

HAMLET	I am glad to see you well:
	Horatio,--or I do forget myself.

HORATIO	The same, my lord, and your poor servant ever.

HAMLET	Sir, my good friend; I'll change that name with you:
	And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio? Marcellus?

MARCELLUS	My good lord--

HAMLET	I am very glad to see you. Good even, sir.
	But what, in faith, make you from Wittenberg?

HORATIO	A truant disposition, good my lord.

HAMLET	I would not hear your enemy say so,
	Nor shall you do mine ear that violence,
	To make it truster of your own report
	Against yourself: I know you are no truant.
	But what is your affair in Elsinore?
	We'll teach you to drink deep ere you depart.

HORATIO	My lord, I came to see your father's funeral.

HAMLET	I pray thee, do not mock me, fellow-student;
	I think it was to see my mother's wedding.

HORATIO	Indeed, my lord, it follow'd hard upon.

HAMLET	Thrift, thrift, Horatio! the funeral baked meats
	Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.
	Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven
	Or ever I had seen that day, Horatio!
	My father!--methinks I see my father.

HORATIO	Where, my lord?

HAMLET	                  In my mind's eye, Horatio.

HORATIO	I saw him once; he was a goodly king.

HAMLET	He was a man, take him for all in all,
	I shall not look upon his like again.

HORATIO	My lord, I think I saw him yesternight.

HAMLET	Saw? who?

HORATIO	My lord, the king your father.

HAMLET	The king my father!

HORATIO	Season your admiration for awhile
	With an attent ear, till I may deliver,
	Upon the witness of these gentlemen,
	This marvel to you.

HAMLET	For God's love, let me hear.

HORATIO	Two nights together had these gentlemen,
	Marcellus and Bernardo, on their watch,
	In the dead vast and middle of the night,
	Been thus encounter'd. A figure like your father,
	Armed at point exactly, cap-a-pe,
	Appears before them, and with solemn march
	Goes slow and stately by them: thrice he walk'd
	By their oppress'd and fear-surprised eyes,
	Within his truncheon's length; whilst they, distilled
	Almost to jelly with the act of fear,
	Stand dumb and speak not to him. This to me
	In dreadful secrecy impart they did;
	And I with them the third night kept the watch;
	Where, as they had deliver'd, both in time,
	Form of the thing, each word made true and good,
	The apparition comes: I knew your father;
	These hands are not more like.

HAMLET	But where was this?

MARCELLUS	My lord, upon the platform where we watch'd.

HAMLET	Did you not speak to it?

HORATIO	My lord, I did;
	But answer made it none: yet once methought
	It lifted up its head and did address
	Itself to motion, like as it would speak;
	But even then the morning cock crew loud,
	And at the sound it shrunk in haste away,
	And vanish'd from our sight.

HAMLET	'Tis very strange.

HORATIO	As I do live, my honour'd lord, 'tis true;
	And we did think it writ down in our duty
	To let you know of it.

HAMLET	Indeed, indeed, sirs, but this troubles me.
	Hold you the watch to-night?


MARCELLUS	|
	|	We do, my lord.
BERNARDO	|


HAMLET	Arm'd, say you?


MARCELLUS	|
	|  Arm'd, my lord.
BERNARDO	|


HAMLET	From top to toe?


MARCELLUS	|
	|             My lord, from head to foot.
BERNARDO	|


HAMLET	Then saw you not his face?

HORATIO	O, yes, my lord; he wore his beaver up.

HAMLET	What, look'd he frowningly?

HORATIO	A countenance more in sorrow than in anger.

HAMLET	Pale or red?

HORATIO	Nay, very pale.

HAMLET	                  And fix'd his eyes upon you?

HORATIO	Most constantly.

HAMLET	                  I would I had been there.

HORATIO	It would have much amazed you.

HAMLET	Very like, very like. Stay'd it long?

HORATIO	While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred.


MARCELLUS	|
	| Longer, longer.
BERNARDO	|


HORATIO	Not when I saw't.

HAMLET	                  His beard was grizzled--no?

HORATIO	It was, as I have seen it in his life,
	A sable silver'd.

HAMLET	                  I will watch to-night;
	Perchance 'twill walk again.

HORATIO	I warrant it will.

HAMLET	If it assume my noble father's person,
	I'll speak to it, though hell itself should gape
	And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all,
	If you have hitherto conceal'd this sight,
	Let it be tenable in your silence still;
	And whatsoever else shall hap to-night,
	Give it an understanding, but no tongue:
	I will requite your loves. So, fare you well:
	Upon the platform, 'twixt eleven and twelve,
	I'll visit you.

All	                  Our duty to your honour.

HAMLET	Your loves, as mine to you: farewell.

	[Exeunt all but HAMLET]

	My father's spirit in arms! all is not well;
	I doubt some foul play: would the night were come!
	Till then sit still, my soul: foul deeds will rise,
	Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes.

	[Exit]




	HAMLET


ACT I



SCENE III	A room in Polonius' house.


	[Enter LAERTES and OPHELIA]

LAERTES	My necessaries are embark'd: farewell:
	And, sister, as the winds give benefit
	And convoy is assistant, do not sleep,
	But let me hear from you.

OPHELIA	Do you doubt that?

LAERTES	For Hamlet and the trifling of his favour,
	Hold it a fashion and a toy in blood,
	A violet in the youth of primy nature,
	Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting,
	The perfume and suppliance of a minute; No more.

OPHELIA	       No more but so?

LAERTES	Think it no more;
	For nature, crescent, does not grow alone
	In thews and bulk, but, as this temple waxes,
	The inward service of the mind and soul
	Grows wide withal. Perhaps he loves you now,
	And now no soil nor cautel doth besmirch
	The virtue of his will: but you must fear,
	His greatness weigh'd, his will is not his own;
	For he himself is subject to his birth:
	He may not, as unvalued persons do,
	Carve for himself; for on his choice depends
	The safety and health of this whole state;
	And therefore must his choice be circumscribed
	Unto the voice and yielding of that body
	Whereof he is the head. Then if he says he loves you,
	It fits your wisdom so far to believe it
	As he in his particular act and place
	May give his saying deed; which is no further
	Than the main voice of Denmark goes withal.
	Then weigh what loss your honour may sustain,
	If with too credent ear you list his songs,
	Or lose your heart, or your chaste treasure open
	To his unmaster'd importunity.
	Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister,
	And keep you in the rear of your affection,
	Out of the shot and danger of desire.
	The chariest maid is prodigal enough,
	If she unmask her beauty to the moon:
	Virtue itself 'scapes not calumnious strokes:
	The canker galls the infants of the spring,
	Too oft before their buttons be disclosed,
	And in the morn and liquid dew of youth
	Contagious blastments are most imminent.
	Be wary then; best safety lies in fear:
	Youth to itself rebels, though none else near.

OPHELIA	I shall the effect of this good lesson keep,
	As watchman to my heart. But, good my brother,
	Do not, as some ungracious pastors do,
	Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven;
	Whiles, like a puff'd and reckless libertine,
	Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads,
	And recks not his own rede.

LAERTES	O, fear me not.
	I stay too long: but here my father comes.

	[Enter POLONIUS]

	A double blessing is a double grace,
	Occasion smiles upon a second leave.

LORD POLONIUS	Yet here, Laertes! aboard, aboard, for shame!
	The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail,
	And you are stay'd for. There; my blessing with thee!
	And these few precepts in thy memory
	See thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue,
	Nor any unproportioned thought his act.
	Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar.
	Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,
	Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel;
	But do not dull thy palm with entertainment
	Of each new-hatch'd, unfledged comrade. Beware
	Of entrance to a quarrel, but being in,
	Bear't that the opposed may beware of thee.
	Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice;
	Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment.
	Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
	But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy;
	For the apparel oft proclaims the man,
	And they in France of the best rank and station
	Are of a most select and generous chief in that.
	Neither a borrower nor a lender be;
	For loan oft loses both itself and friend,
	And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
	This above all: to thine ownself be true,
	And it must follow, as the night the day,
	Thou canst not then be false to any man.
	Farewell: my blessing season this in thee!

LAERTES	Most humbly do I take my leave, my lord.

LORD POLONIUS	The time invites you; go; your servants tend.

LAERTES	Farewell, Ophelia; and remember well
	What I have said to you.

OPHELIA	'Tis in my memory lock'd,
	And you yourself shall keep the key of it.

LAERTES	Farewell.

	[Exit]

LORD POLONIUS	What is't, Ophelia, be hath said to you?

OPHELIA	So please you, something touching the Lord Hamlet.

LORD POLONIUS	Marry, well bethought:
	'Tis told me, he hath very oft of late
	Given private time to you; and you yourself
	Have of your audience been most free and bounteous:
	If it be so, as so 'tis put on me,
	And that in way of caution, I must tell you,
	You do not understand yourself so clearly
	As it behoves my daughter and your honour.
	What is between you? give me up the truth.

OPHELIA	He hath, my lord, of late made many tenders
	Of his affection to me.

LORD POLONIUS	Affection! pooh! you speak like a green girl,
	Unsifted in such perilous circumstance.
	Do you believe his tenders, as you call them?

OPHELIA	I do not know, my lord, what I should think.

LORD POLONIUS	Marry, I'll teach you: think yourself a baby;
	That you have ta'en these tenders for true pay,
	Which are not sterling. Tender yourself more dearly;
	Or--not to crack the wind of the poor phrase,
	Running it thus--you'll tender me a fool.

OPHELIA	My lord, he hath importuned me with love
	In honourable fashion.

LORD POLONIUS	Ay, fashion you may call it; go to, go to.

OPHELIA	And hath given countenance to his speech, my lord,
	With almost all the holy vows of heaven.

LORD POLONIUS	Ay, springes to catch woodcocks. I do know,
	When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul
	Lends the tongue vows: these blazes, daughter,
	Giving more light than heat, extinct in both,
	Even in their promise, as it is a-making,
	You must not take for fire. From this time
	Be somewhat scanter of your maiden presence;
	Set your entreatments at a higher rate
	Than a command to parley. For Lord Hamlet,
	Believe so much in him, that he is young
	And with a larger tether may he walk
	Than may be given you: in few, Ophelia,
	Do not believe his vows; for they are brokers,
	Not of that dye which their investments show,
	But mere implorators of unholy suits,
	Breathing like sanctified and pious bawds,
	The better to beguile. This is for all:
	I would not, in plain terms, from this time forth,
	Have you so slander any moment leisure,
	As to give words or talk with the Lord Hamlet.
	Look to't, I charge you: come your ways.

OPHELIA	I shall obey, my lord.

	[Exeunt]




	HAMLET


ACT I



SCENE IV	The platform.


	[Enter HAMLET, HORATIO, and MARCELLUS]

HAMLET	The air bites shrewdly; it is very cold.

HORATIO	It is a nipping and an eager air.

HAMLET	What hour now?

HORATIO	                  I think it lacks of twelve.

HAMLET	No, it is struck.

HORATIO	Indeed? I heard it not: then it draws near the season
	Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk.

	[A flourish of trumpets, and ordnance shot off, within]

	What does this mean, my lord?

HAMLET	The king doth wake to-night and takes his rouse,
	Keeps wassail, and the swaggering up-spring reels;
	And, as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down,
	The kettle-drum and trumpet thus bray out
	The triumph of his pledge.

HORATIO	Is it a custom?

HAMLET	Ay, marry, is't:
	But to my mind, though I am native here
	And to the manner born, it is a custom
	More honour'd in the breach than the observance.
	This heavy-headed revel east and west
	Makes us traduced and tax'd of other nations:
	They clepe us drunkards, and with swinish phrase
	Soil our addition; and indeed it takes
	From our achievements, though perform'd at height,
	The pith and marrow of our attribute.
	So, oft it chances in particular men,
	That for some vicious mole of nature in them,
	As, in their birth--wherein they are not guilty,
	Since nature cannot choose his origin--
	By the o'ergrowth of some complexion,
	Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason,
	Or by some habit that too much o'er-leavens
	The form of plausive manners, that these men,
	Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect,
	Being nature's livery, or fortune's star,--
	Their virtues else--be they as pure as grace,
	As infinite as man may undergo--
	Shall in the general censure take corruption
	From that particular fault: the dram of eale
	Doth all the noble substance of a doubt
	To his own scandal.

HORATIO	Look, my lord, it comes!

	[Enter Ghost]

HAMLET	Angels and ministers of grace defend us!
	Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damn'd,
	Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell,
	Be thy intents wicked or charitable,
	Thou comest in such a questionable shape
	That I will speak to thee: I'll call thee Hamlet,
	King, father, royal Dane: O, answer me!
	Let me not burst in ignorance; but tell
	Why thy canonized bones, hearsed in death,
	Have burst their cerements; why the sepulchre,
	Wherein we saw thee quietly inurn'd,
	Hath oped his ponderous and marble jaws,
	To cast thee up again. What may this mean,
	That thou, dead corse, again in complete steel
	Revisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon,
	Making night hideous; and we fools of nature
	So horridly to shake our disposition
	With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls?
	Say, why is this? wherefore? what should we do?

	[Ghost beckons HAMLET]

HORATIO	It beckons you to go away with it,
	As if it some impartment did desire
	To you alone.

MARCELLUS	                  Look, with what courteous action
	It waves you to a more removed ground:
	But do not go with it.

HORATIO	No, by no means.

HAMLET	It will not speak; then I will follow it.

HORATIO	Do not, my lord.

HAMLET	                  Why, what should be the fear?
	I do not set my life in a pin's fee;
	And for my soul, what can it do to that,
	Being a thing immortal as itself?
	It waves me forth again: I'll follow it.

HORATIO	What if it tempt you toward the flood, my lord,
	Or to the dreadful summit of the cliff
	That beetles o'er his base into the sea,
	And there assume some other horrible form,
	Which might deprive your sovereignty of reason
	And draw you into madness? think of it:
	The very place puts toys of desperation,
	Without more motive, into every brain
	That looks so many fathoms to the sea
	And hears it roar beneath.

HAMLET	It waves me still.
	Go on; I'll follow thee.

MARCELLUS	You shall not go, my lord.

HAMLET	Hold off your hands.

HORATIO	Be ruled; you shall not go.

HAMLET	My fate cries out,
	And makes each petty artery in this body
	As hardy as the Nemean lion's nerve.
	Still am I call'd. Unhand me, gentlemen.
	By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me!
	I say, away! Go on; I'll follow thee.

	[Exeunt Ghost and HAMLET]

HORATIO	He waxes desperate with imagination.

MARCELLUS	Let's follow; 'tis not fit thus to obey him.

HORATIO	Have after. To what issue will this come?

MARCELLUS	Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.

HORATIO	Heaven will direct it.

MARCELLUS	Nay, let's follow him.

	[Exeunt]




	HAMLET


ACT I



SCENE V	Another part of the platform.


	[Enter GHOST and HAMLET]

HAMLET	Where wilt thou lead me? speak; I'll go no further.

Ghost	Mark me.

HAMLET	       I will.

Ghost	                  My hour is almost come,
	When I to sulphurous and tormenting flames
	Must render up myself.

HAMLET	Alas, poor ghost!

Ghost	Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing
	To what I shall unfold.

HAMLET	Speak; I am bound to hear.

Ghost	 So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt hear.

HAMLET	What?

Ghost	I am thy father's spirit,
	Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night,
	And for the day confined to fast in fires,
	Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature
	Are burnt and purged away. But that I am forbid
	To tell the secrets of my prison-house,
	I could a tale unfold whose lightest word
	Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood,
	Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres,
	Thy knotted and combined locks to part
	And each particular hair to stand on end,
	Like quills upon the fretful porpentine:
	But this eternal blazon must not be
	To ears of flesh and blood. List, list, O, list!
	If thou didst ever thy dear father love--

HAMLET	O God!

Ghost	Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder.

HAMLET	Murder!

Ghost	Murder most foul, as in the best it is;
	But this most foul, strange and unnatural.

HAMLET	Haste me to know't, that I, with wings as swift
	As meditation or the thoughts of love,
	May sweep to my revenge.

Ghost	I find thee apt;
	And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed
	That roots itself in ease on Lethe wharf,
	Wouldst thou not stir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear:
	'Tis given out that, sleeping in my orchard,
	A serpent stung me; so the whole ear of Denmark
	Is by a forged process of my death
	Rankly abused: but know, thou noble youth,
	The serpent that did sting thy father's life
	Now wears his crown.

HAMLET	O my prophetic soul! My uncle!

Ghost	Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast,
	With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts,--
	O wicked wit and gifts, that have the power
	So to seduce!--won to his shameful lust
	The will of my most seeming-virtuous queen:
	O Hamlet, what a falling-off was there!
	From me, whose love was of that dignity
	That it went hand in hand even with the vow
	I made to her in marriage, and to decline
	Upon a wretch whose natural gifts were poor
	To those of mine!
	But virtue, as it never will be moved,
	Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven,
	So lust, though to a radiant angel link'd,
	Will sate itself in a celestial bed,
	And prey on garbage.
	But, soft! methinks I scent the morning air;
	Brief let me be. Sleeping within my orchard,
	My custom always of the afternoon,
	Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole,
	With juice of cursed hebenon in a vial,
	And in the porches of my ears did pour
	The leperous distilment; whose effect
	Holds such an enmity with blood of man
	That swift as quicksilver it courses through
	The natural gates and alleys of the body,
	And with a sudden vigour doth posset
	And curd, like eager droppings into milk,
	The thin and wholesome blood: so did it mine;
	And a most instant tetter bark'd about,
	Most lazar-like, with vile and loathsome crust,
	All my smooth body.
	Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's hand
	Of life, of crown, of queen, at once dispatch'd:
	Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin,
	Unhousel'd, disappointed, unanel'd,
	No reckoning made, but sent to my account
	With all my imperfections on my head:
	O, horrible! O, horrible! most horrible!
	If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not;
	Let not the royal bed of Denmark be
	A couch for luxury and damned incest.
	But, howsoever thou pursuest this act,
	Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive
	Against thy mother aught: leave her to heaven
	And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge,
	To prick and sting her. Fare thee well at once!
	The glow-worm shows the matin to be near,
	And 'gins to pale his uneffectual fire:
	Adieu, adieu! Hamlet, remember me.

	[Exit]

HAMLET	O all you host of heaven! O earth! what else?
	And shall I couple hell? O, fie! Hold, hold, my heart;
	And you, my sinews, grow not instant old,
	But bear me stiffly up. Remember thee!
	Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat
	In this distracted globe. Remember thee!
	Yea, from the table of my memory
	I'll wipe away all trivial fond records,
	All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past,
	That youth and observation copied there;
	And thy commandment all alone shall live
	Within the book and volume of my brain,
	Unmix'd with baser matter: yes, by heaven!
	O most pernicious woman!
	O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain!
	My tables,--meet it is I set it down,
	That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain;
	At least I'm sure it may be so in Denmark:

	[Writing]

	So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word;
	It is 'Adieu, adieu! remember me.'
	I have sworn 't.


MARCELLUS	|
	| [Within]  My lord, my lord,--
HORATIO	|


MARCELLUS	[Within]	Lord Hamlet,--

HORATIO	[Within]	Heaven secure him!

HAMLET	So be it!

HORATIO	[Within]  Hillo, ho, ho, my lord!

HAMLET	Hillo, ho, ho, boy! come, bird, come.

	[Enter HORATIO and MARCELLUS]

MARCELLUS	How is't, my noble lord?

HORATIO	What news, my lord?

HAMLET	O, wonderful!

HORATIO	                  Good my lord, tell it.

HAMLET	No; you'll reveal it.

HORATIO	Not I, my lord, by heaven.

MARCELLUS	Nor I, my lord.

HAMLET	How say you, then; would heart of man once think it?
	But you'll be secret?


HORATIO	|
	|                   Ay, by heaven, my lord.
MARCELLUS	|


HAMLET	There's ne'er a villain dwelling in all Denmark
	But he's an arrant knave.

HORATIO	There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave
	To tell us this.

HAMLET	                  Why, right; you are i' the right;
	And so, without more circumstance at all,
	I hold it fit that we shake hands and part:
	You, as your business and desire shall point you;
	For every man has business and desire,
	Such as it is; and for mine own poor part,
	Look you, I'll go pray.

HORATIO	These are but wild and whirling words, my lord.

HAMLET	I'm sorry they offend you, heartily;
	Yes, 'faith heartily.

HORATIO	There's no offence, my lord.

HAMLET	Yes, by Saint Patrick, but there is, Horatio,
	And much offence too. Touching this vision here,
	It is an honest ghost, that let me tell you:
	For your desire to know what is between us,
	O'ermaster 't as you may. And now, good friends,
	As you are friends, scholars and soldiers,
	Give me one poor request.

HORATIO	What is't, my lord? we will.

HAMLET	Never make known what you have seen to-night.


HORATIO	|
	| My lord, we will not.
MARCELLUS	|


HAMLET	Nay, but swear't.

HORATIO	In faith,
	My lord, not I.

MARCELLUS	                  Nor I, my lord, in faith.

HAMLET	Upon my sword.

MARCELLUS	                  We have sworn, my lord, already.

HAMLET	Indeed, upon my sword, indeed.

Ghost	[Beneath]  Swear.

HAMLET	Ah, ha, boy! say'st thou so? art thou there,
	truepenny?
	Come on--you hear this fellow in the cellarage--
	Consent to swear.

HORATIO	                  Propose the oath, my lord.

HAMLET	Never to speak of this that you have seen,
	Swear by my sword.

Ghost	[Beneath]  Swear.

HAMLET	Hic et ubique? then we'll shift our ground.
	Come hither, gentlemen,
	And lay your hands again upon my sword:
	Never to speak of this that you have heard,
	Swear by my sword.

Ghost	[Beneath]  Swear.

HAMLET	Well said, old mole! canst work i' the earth so fast?
	A worthy pioner! Once more remove, good friends.

HORATIO	O day and night, but this is wondrous strange!

HAMLET	And therefore as a stranger give it welcome.
	There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
	Than are dreamt of in your philosophy. But come;
	Here, as before, never, so help you mercy,
	How strange or odd soe'er I bear myself,
	As I perchance hereafter shall think meet
	To put an antic disposition on,
	That you, at such times seeing me, never shall,
	With arms encumber'd thus, or this headshake,
	Or by pronouncing of some doubtful phrase,
	As 'Well, well, we know,' or 'We could, an if we would,'
	Or 'If we list to speak,' or 'There be, an if they might,'
	Or such ambiguous giving out, to note
	That you know aught of me: this not to do,
	So grace and mercy at your most need help you, Swear.

Ghost	[Beneath]  Swear.

HAMLET	Rest, rest, perturbed spirit!

	[They swear]

		        So, gentlemen,
	With all my love I do commend me to you:
	And what so poor a man as Hamlet is
	May do, to express his love and friending to you,
	God willing, shall not lack. Let us go in together;
	And still your fingers on your lips, I pray.
	The time is out of joint: O cursed spite,
	That ever I was born to set it right!
	Nay, come, let's go together.

	[Exeunt]




	HAMLET


ACT II



SCENE I	A room in POLONIUS' house.


	[Enter POLONIUS and REYNALDO]

LORD POLONIUS	Give him this money and these notes, Reynaldo.

REYNALDO	I will, my lord.

LORD POLONIUS	You shall do marvellous wisely, good Reynaldo,
	Before you visit him, to make inquire
	Of his behavior.

REYNALDO	                  My lord, I did intend it.

LORD POLONIUS	Marry, well said; very well said. Look you, sir,
	Inquire me first what Danskers are in Paris;
	And how, and who, what means, and where they keep,
	What company, at what expense; and finding
	By this encompassment and drift of question
	That they do know my son, come you more nearer
	Than your particular demands will touch it:
	Take you, as 'twere, some distant knowledge of him;
	As thus, 'I know his father and his friends,
	And in part him: ' do you mark this, Reynaldo?

REYNALDO	Ay, very well, my lord.

LORD POLONIUS	'And in part him; but' you may say 'not well:
	But, if't be he I mean, he's very wild;
	Addicted so and so:' and there put on him
	What forgeries you please; marry, none so rank
	As may dishonour him; take heed of that;
	But, sir, such wanton, wild and usual slips
	As are companions noted and most known
	To youth and liberty.

REYNALDO	As gaming, my lord.

LORD POLONIUS	Ay, or drinking, fencing, swearing, quarrelling,
	Drabbing: you may go so far.

REYNALDO	My lord, that would dishonour him.

LORD POLONIUS	'Faith, no; as you may season it in the charge
	You must not put another scandal on him,
	That he is open to incontinency;
	That's not my meaning: but breathe his faults so quaintly
	That they may seem the taints of liberty,
	The flash and outbreak of a fiery mind,
	A savageness in unreclaimed blood,
	Of general assault.

REYNALDO	But, my good lord,--

LORD POLONIUS	Wherefore should you do this?

REYNALDO	Ay, my lord,
	I would know that.

LORD POLONIUS	                  Marry, sir, here's my drift;
	And I believe, it is a fetch of wit:
	You laying these slight sullies on my son,
	As 'twere a thing a little soil'd i' the working, Mark you,
	Your party in converse, him you would sound,
	Having ever seen in the prenominate crimes
	The youth you breathe of guilty, be assured
	He closes with you in this consequence;
	'Good sir,' or so, or 'friend,' or 'gentleman,'
	According to the phrase or the addition
	Of man and country.

REYNALDO	Very good, my lord.

LORD POLONIUS	And then, sir, does he this--he does--what was I
	about to say? By the mass, I was about to say
	something: where did I leave?

REYNALDO	At 'closes in the consequence,' at 'friend or so,'
	and 'gentleman.'

LORD POLONIUS	At 'closes in the consequence,' ay, marry;
	He closes thus: 'I know the gentleman;
	I saw him yesterday, or t' other day,
	Or then, or then; with such, or such; and, as you say,
	There was a' gaming; there o'ertook in's rouse;
	There falling out at tennis:' or perchance,
	'I saw him enter such a house of sale,'
	Videlicet, a brothel, or so forth.
	See you now;
	Your bait of falsehood takes this carp of truth:
	And thus do we of wisdom and of reach,
	With windlasses and with assays of bias,
	By indirections find directions out:
	So by my former lecture and advice,
	Shall you my son. You have me, have you not?

REYNALDO	My lord, I have.

LORD POLONIUS	                  God be wi' you; fare you well.

REYNALDO	Good my lord!

LORD POLONIUS	Observe his inclination in yourself.

REYNALDO	I shall, my lord.

LORD POLONIUS	And let him ply his music.

REYNALDO	Well, my lord.

LORD POLONIUS	Farewell!

	[Exit REYNALDO]

	[Enter OPHELIA]

	How now, Ophelia! what's the matter?

OPHELIA	O, my lord, my lord, I have been so affrighted!

LORD POLONIUS	With what, i' the name of God?

OPHELIA	My lord, as I was sewing in my closet,
	Lord Hamlet, with his doublet all unbraced;
	No hat upon his head; his stockings foul'd,
	Ungarter'd, and down-gyved to his ancle;
	Pale as his shirt; his knees knocking each other;
	And with a look so piteous in purport
	As if he had been loosed out of hell
	To speak of horrors,--he comes before me.

LORD POLONIUS	Mad for thy love?

OPHELIA	                  My lord, I do not know;
	But truly, I do fear it.

LORD POLONIUS	What said he?

OPHELIA	He took me by the wrist and held me hard;
	Then goes he to the length of all his arm;
	And, with his other hand thus o'er his brow,
	He falls to such perusal of my face
	As he would draw it. Long stay'd he so;
	At last, a little shaking of mine arm
	And thrice his head thus waving up and down,
	He raised a sigh so piteous and profound
	As it did seem to shatter all his bulk
	And end his being: that done, he lets me go:
	And, with his head over his shoulder turn'd,
	He seem'd to find his way without his eyes;
	For out o' doors he went without their helps,
	And, to the last, bended their light on me.

LORD POLONIUS	Come, go with me: I will go seek the king.
	This is the very ecstasy of love,
	Whose violent property fordoes itself
	And leads the will to desperate undertakings
	As oft as any passion under heaven
	That does afflict our natures. I am sorry.
	What, have you given him any hard words of late?

OPHELIA	No, my good lord, but, as you did command,
	I did repel his fetters and denied
	His access to me.

LORD POLONIUS	                  That hath made him mad.
	I am sorry that with better heed and judgment
	I had not quoted him: I fear'd he did but trifle,
	And meant to wreck thee; but, beshrew my jealousy!
	By heaven, it is as proper to our age
	To cast beyond ourselves in our opinions
	As it is common for the younger sort
	To lack discretion. Come, go we to the king:
	This must be known; which, being kept close, might
	move
	More grief to hide than hate to utter love.

	[Exeunt]




	HAMLET


ACT II



SCENE II	A room in the castle.


	[Enter KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, ROSENCRANTZ,
	GUILDENSTERN, and Attendants]

KING CLAUDIUS	Welcome, dear Rosencrantz and Guildenstern!
	Moreover that we much did long to see you,
	The need we have to use you did provoke
	Our hasty sending. Something have you heard
	Of Hamlet's transformation; so call it,
	Sith nor the exterior nor the inward man
	Resembles that it was. What it should be,
	More than his father's death, that thus hath put him
	So much from the understanding of himself,
	I cannot dream of: I entreat you both,
	That, being of so young days brought up with him,
	And sith so neighbour'd to his youth and havior,
	That you vouchsafe your rest here in our court
	Some little time: so by your companies
	To draw him on to pleasures, and to gather,
	So much as from occasion you may glean,
	Whether aught, to us unknown, afflicts him thus,
	That, open'd, lies within our remedy.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Good gentlemen, he hath much talk'd of you;
	And sure I am two men there are not living
	To whom he more adheres. If it will please you
	To show us so much gentry and good will
	As to expend your time with us awhile,
	For the supply and profit of our hope,
	Your visitation shall receive such thanks
	As fits a king's remembrance.

ROSENCRANTZ	Both your majesties
	Might, by the sovereign power you have of us,
	Put your dread pleasures more into command
	Than to entreaty.

GUILDENSTERN	                  But we both obey,
	And here give up ourselves, in the full bent
	To lay our service freely at your feet,
	To be commanded.

KING CLAUDIUS	Thanks, Rosencrantz and gentle Guildenstern.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Thanks, Guildenstern and gentle Rosencrantz:
	And I beseech you instantly to visit
	My too much changed son. Go, some of you,
	And bring these gentlemen where Hamlet is.

GUILDENSTERN	Heavens make our presence and our practises
	Pleasant and helpful to him!

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Ay, amen!

	[Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ, GUILDENSTERN, and some
	Attendants]

	[Enter POLONIUS]

LORD POLONIUS	The ambassadors from Norway, my good lord,
	Are joyfully return'd.

KING CLAUDIUS	Thou still hast been the father of good news.

LORD POLONIUS	Have I, my lord? I assure my good liege,
	I hold my duty, as I hold my soul,
	Both to my God and to my gracious king:
	And I do think, or else this brain of mine
	Hunts not the trail of policy so sure
	As it hath used to do, that I have found
	The very cause of Hamlet's lunacy.

KING CLAUDIUS	O, speak of that; that do I long to hear.

LORD POLONIUS	Give first admittance to the ambassadors;
	My news shall be the fruit to that great feast.

KING CLAUDIUS	Thyself do grace to them, and bring them in.

	[Exit POLONIUS]

	He tells me, my dear Gertrude, he hath found
	The head and source of all your son's distemper.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	I doubt it is no other but the main;
	His father's death, and our o'erhasty marriage.

KING CLAUDIUS	Well, we shall sift him.

	[Re-enter POLONIUS, with VOLTIMAND and CORNELIUS]

		   Welcome, my good friends!
	Say, Voltimand, what from our brother Norway?

VOLTIMAND	Most fair return of greetings and desires.
	Upon our first, he sent out to suppress
	His nephew's levies; which to him appear'd
	To be a preparation 'gainst the Polack;
	But, better look'd into, he truly found
	It was against your highness: whereat grieved,
	That so his sickness, age and impotence
	Was falsely borne in hand, sends out arrests
	On Fortinbras; which he, in brief, obeys;
	Receives rebuke from Norway, and in fine
	Makes vow before his uncle never more
	To give the assay of arms against your majesty.
	Whereon old Norway, overcome with joy,
	Gives him three thousand crowns in annual fee,
	And his commission to employ those soldiers,
	So levied as before, against the Polack:
	With an entreaty, herein further shown,

	[Giving a paper]

	That it might please you to give quiet pass
	Through your dominions for this enterprise,
	On such regards of safety and allowance
	As therein are set down.

KING CLAUDIUS	It likes us well;
	And at our more consider'd time well read,
	Answer, and think upon this business.
	Meantime we thank you for your well-took labour:
	Go to your rest; at night we'll feast together:
	Most welcome home!

	[Exeunt VOLTIMAND and CORNELIUS]

LORD POLONIUS	                  This business is well ended.
	My liege, and madam, to expostulate
	What majesty should be, what duty is,
	Why day is day, night night, and time is time,
	Were nothing but to waste night, day and time.
	Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit,
	And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes,
	I will be brief: your noble son is mad:
	Mad call I it; for, to define true madness,
	What is't but to be nothing else but mad?
	But let that go.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	                  More matter, with less art.

LORD POLONIUS	Madam, I swear I use no art at all.
	That he is mad, 'tis true: 'tis true 'tis pity;
	And pity 'tis 'tis true: a foolish figure;
	But farewell it, for I will use no art.
	Mad let us grant him, then: and now remains
	That we find out the cause of this effect,
	Or rather say, the cause of this defect,
	For this effect defective comes by cause:
	Thus it remains, and the remainder thus. Perpend.
	I have a daughter--have while she is mine--
	Who, in her duty and obedience, mark,
	Hath given me this: now gather, and surmise.

	[Reads]

	'To the celestial and my soul's idol, the most
	beautified Ophelia,'--
	That's an ill phrase, a vile phrase; 'beautified' is
	a vile phrase: but you shall hear. Thus:

	[Reads]

	'In her excellent white bosom, these, &c.'

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Came this from Hamlet to her?

LORD POLONIUS	Good madam, stay awhile; I will be faithful.

	[Reads]

	'Doubt thou the stars are fire;
	Doubt that the sun doth move;
	Doubt truth to be a liar;
	But never doubt I love.
	'O dear Ophelia, I am ill at these numbers;
	I have not art to reckon my groans: but that
	I love thee best, O most best, believe it. Adieu.
	'Thine evermore most dear lady, whilst
	this machine is to him, HAMLET.'
	This, in obedience, hath my daughter shown me,
	And more above, hath his solicitings,
	As they fell out by time, by means and place,
	All given to mine ear.

KING CLAUDIUS	But how hath she
	Received his love?

LORD POLONIUS	                  What do you think of me?

KING CLAUDIUS	As of a man faithful and honourable.

LORD POLONIUS	I would fain prove so. But what might you think,
	When I had seen this hot love on the wing--
	As I perceived it, I must tell you that,
	Before my daughter told me--what might you,
	Or my dear majesty your queen here, think,
	If I had play'd the desk or table-book,
	Or given my heart a winking, mute and dumb,
	Or look'd upon this love with idle sight;
	What might you think? No, I went round to work,
	And my young mistress thus I did bespeak:
	'Lord Hamlet is a prince, out of thy star;
	This must not be:' and then I precepts gave her,
	That she should lock herself from his resort,
	Admit no messengers, receive no tokens.
	Which done, she took the fruits of my advice;
	And he, repulsed--a short tale to make--
	Fell into a sadness, then into a fast,
	Thence to a watch, thence into a weakness,
	Thence to a lightness, and, by this declension,
	Into the madness wherein now he raves,
	And all we mourn for.

KING CLAUDIUS	Do you think 'tis this?

QUEEN GERTRUDE	It may be, very likely.

LORD POLONIUS	Hath there been such a time--I'd fain know that--
	That I have positively said 'Tis so,'
	When it proved otherwise?

KING CLAUDIUS	Not that I know.

LORD POLONIUS	[Pointing to his head and shoulder]

	Take this from this, if this be otherwise:
	If circumstances lead me, I will find
	Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeed
	Within the centre.

KING CLAUDIUS	                  How may we try it further?

LORD POLONIUS	You know, sometimes he walks four hours together
	Here in the lobby.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	                  So he does indeed.

LORD POLONIUS	At such a time I'll loose my daughter to him:
	Be you and I behind an arras then;
	Mark the encounter: if he love her not
	And be not from his reason fall'n thereon,
	Let me be no assistant for a state,
	But keep a farm and carters.

KING CLAUDIUS	We will try it.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	But, look, where sadly the poor wretch comes reading.

LORD POLONIUS	Away, I do beseech you, both away:
	I'll board him presently.

	[Exeunt KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, and
	Attendants]

	[Enter HAMLET, reading]

		    O, give me leave:
	How does my good Lord Hamlet?

HAMLET	Well, God-a-mercy.

LORD POLONIUS	Do you know me, my lord?

HAMLET	Excellent well; you are a fishmonger.

LORD POLONIUS	Not I, my lord.

HAMLET	Then I would you were so honest a man.

LORD POLONIUS	Honest, my lord!

HAMLET	Ay, sir; to be honest, as this world goes, is to be
	one man picked out of ten thousand.

LORD POLONIUS	That's very true, my lord.

HAMLET	For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a
	god kissing carrion,--Have you a daughter?

LORD POLONIUS	I have, my lord.

HAMLET	Let her not walk i' the sun: conception is a
	blessing: but not as your daughter may conceive.
	Friend, look to 't.

LORD POLONIUS	[Aside]  How say you by that? Still harping on my
	daughter: yet he knew me not at first; he said I
	was a fishmonger: he is far gone, far gone: and
	truly in my youth I suffered much extremity for
	love; very near this. I'll speak to him again.
	What do you read, my lord?

HAMLET	Words, words, words.

LORD POLONIUS	What is the matter, my lord?

HAMLET	Between who?

LORD POLONIUS	I mean, the matter that you read, my lord.

HAMLET	Slanders, sir: for the satirical rogue says here
	that old men have grey beards, that their faces are
	wrinkled, their eyes purging thick amber and
	plum-tree gum and that they have a plentiful lack of
	wit, together with most weak hams: all which, sir,
	though I most powerfully and potently believe, yet
	I hold it not honesty to have it thus set down, for
	yourself, sir, should be old as I am, if like a crab
	you could go backward.

LORD POLONIUS	[Aside]  Though this be madness, yet there is method
	in 't. Will you walk out of the air, my lord?

HAMLET	Into my grave.

LORD POLONIUS	Indeed, that is out o' the air.

	[Aside]

	How pregnant sometimes his replies are! a happiness
	that often madness hits on, which reason and sanity
	could not so prosperously be delivered of. I will
	leave him, and suddenly contrive the means of
	meeting between him and my daughter.--My honourable
	lord, I will most humbly take my leave of you.

HAMLET	You cannot, sir, take from me any thing that I will
	more willingly part withal: except my life, except
	my life, except my life.

LORD POLONIUS	Fare you well, my lord.

HAMLET	These tedious old fools!

	[Enter ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN]

LORD POLONIUS	You go to seek the Lord Hamlet; there he is.

ROSENCRANTZ	[To POLONIUS]  God save you, sir!

	[Exit POLONIUS]

GUILDENSTERN	My honoured lord!

ROSENCRANTZ	My most dear lord!

HAMLET	My excellent good friends! How dost thou,
	Guildenstern? Ah, Rosencrantz! Good lads, how do ye both?

ROSENCRANTZ	As the indifferent children of the earth.

GUILDENSTERN	Happy, in that we are not over-happy;
	On fortune's cap we are not the very button.

HAMLET	Nor the soles of her shoe?

ROSENCRANTZ	Neither, my lord.

HAMLET	Then you live about her waist, or in the middle of
	her favours?

GUILDENSTERN	'Faith, her privates we.

HAMLET	In the secret parts of fortune? O, most true; she
	is a strumpet. What's the news?

ROSENCRANTZ	None, my lord, but that the world's grown honest.

HAMLET	Then is doomsday near: but your news is not true.
	Let me question more in particular: what have you,
	my good friends, deserved at the hands of fortune,
	that she sends you to prison hither?

GUILDENSTERN	Prison, my lord!

HAMLET	Denmark's a prison.

ROSENCRANTZ	Then is the world one.

HAMLET	A goodly one; in which there are many confines,
	wards and dungeons, Denmark being one o' the worst.

ROSENCRANTZ	We think not so, my lord.

HAMLET	Why, then, 'tis none to you; for there is nothing
	either good or bad, but thinking makes it so: to me
	it is a prison.

ROSENCRANTZ	Why then, your ambition makes it one; 'tis too
	narrow for your mind.

HAMLET	O God, I could be bounded in a nut shell and count
	myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I
	have bad dreams.

GUILDENSTERN	Which dreams indeed are ambition, for the very
	substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream.

HAMLET	A dream itself is but a shadow.

ROSENCRANTZ	Truly, and I hold ambition of so airy and light a
	quality that it is but a shadow's shadow.

HAMLET	Then are our beggars bodies, and our monarchs and
	outstretched heroes the beggars' shadows. Shall we
	to the court? for, by my fay, I cannot reason.


ROSENCRANTZ	|
	| We'll wait upon you.
GUILDENSTERN	|


HAMLET	No such matter: I will not sort you with the rest
	of my servants, for, to speak to you like an honest
	man, I am most dreadfully attended. But, in the
	beaten way of friendship, what make you at Elsinore?

ROSENCRANTZ	To visit you, my lord; no other occasion.

HAMLET	Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks; but I
	thank you: and sure, dear friends, my thanks are
	too dear a halfpenny. Were you not sent for? Is it
	your own inclining? Is it a free visitation? Come,
	deal justly with me: come, come; nay, speak.

GUILDENSTERN	What should we say, my lord?

HAMLET	Why, any thing, but to the purpose. You were sent
	for; and there is a kind of confession in your looks
	which your modesties have not craft enough to colour:
	I know the good king and queen have sent for you.

ROSENCRANTZ	To what end, my lord?

HAMLET	That you must teach me. But let me conjure you, by
	the rights of our fellowship, by the consonancy of
	our youth, by the obligation of our ever-preserved
	love, and by what more dear a better proposer could
	charge you withal, be even and direct with me,
	whether you were sent for, or no?

ROSENCRANTZ	[Aside to GUILDENSTERN]  What say you?

HAMLET	[Aside]  Nay, then, I have an eye of you.--If you
	love me, hold not off.

GUILDENSTERN	My lord, we were sent for.

HAMLET	I will tell you why; so shall my anticipation
	prevent your discovery, and your secrecy to the king
	and queen moult no feather. I have of late--but
	wherefore I know not--lost all my mirth, forgone all
	custom of exercises; and indeed it goes so heavily
	with my disposition that this goodly frame, the
	earth, seems to me a sterile promontory, this most
	excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave
	o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted
	with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to
	me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.
	What a piece of work is a man! how noble in reason!
	how infinite in faculty! in form and moving how
	express and admirable! in action how like an angel!
	in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the
	world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me,
	what is this quintessence of dust? man delights not
	me: no, nor woman neither, though by your smiling
	you seem to say so.

ROSENCRANTZ	My lord, there was no such stuff in my thoughts.

HAMLET	Why did you laugh then, when I said 'man delights not me'?

ROSENCRANTZ	To think, my lord, if you delight not in man, what
	lenten entertainment the players shall receive from
	you: we coted them on the way; and hither are they
	coming, to offer you service.

HAMLET	He that plays the king shall be welcome; his majesty
	shall have tribute of me; the adventurous knight
	shall use his foil and target; the lover shall not
	sigh gratis; the humourous man shall end his part
	in peace; the clown shall make those laugh whose
	lungs are tickled o' the sere; and the lady shall
	say her mind freely, or the blank verse shall halt
	for't. What players are they?

ROSENCRANTZ	Even those you were wont to take delight in, the
	tragedians of the city.

HAMLET	How chances it they travel? their residence, both
	in reputation and profit, was better both ways.

ROSENCRANTZ	I think their inhibition comes by the means of the
	late innovation.

HAMLET	Do they hold the same estimation they did when I was
	in the city? are they so followed?

ROSENCRANTZ	No, indeed, are they not.

HAMLET	How comes it? do they grow rusty?

ROSENCRANTZ	Nay, their endeavour keeps in the wonted pace: but
	there is, sir, an aery of children, little eyases,
	that cry out on the top of question, and are most
	tyrannically clapped for't: these are now the
	fashion, and so berattle the common stages--so they
	call them--that many wearing rapiers are afraid of
	goose-quills and dare scarce come thither.

HAMLET	What, are they children? who maintains 'em? how are
	they escoted? Will they pursue the quality no
	longer than they can sing? will they not say
	afterwards, if they should grow themselves to common
	players--as it is most like, if their means are no
	better--their writers do them wrong, to make them
	exclaim against their own succession?

ROSENCRANTZ	'Faith, there has been much to do on both sides; and
	the nation holds it no sin to tarre them to
	controversy: there was, for a while, no money bid
	for argument, unless the poet and the player went to
	cuffs in the question.

HAMLET	Is't possible?

GUILDENSTERN	O, there has been much throwing about of brains.

HAMLET	Do the boys carry it away?

ROSENCRANTZ	Ay, that they do, my lord; Hercules and his load too.

HAMLET	It is not very strange; for mine uncle is king of
	Denmark, and those that would make mows at him while
	my father lived, give twenty, forty, fifty, an
	hundred ducats a-piece for his picture in little.
	'Sblood, there is something in this more than
	natural, if philosophy could find it out.

	[Flourish of trumpets within]

GUILDENSTERN	There are the players.

HAMLET	Gentlemen, you are welcome to Elsinore. Your hands,
	come then: the appurtenance of welcome is fashion
	and ceremony: let me comply with you in this garb,
	lest my extent to the players, which, I tell you,
	must show fairly outward, should more appear like
	entertainment than yours. You are welcome: but my
	uncle-father and aunt-mother are deceived.

GUILDENSTERN	In what, my dear lord?

HAMLET	I am but mad north-north-west: when the wind is
	southerly I know a hawk from a handsaw.

	[Enter POLONIUS]

LORD POLONIUS	Well be with you, gentlemen!

HAMLET	Hark you, Guildenstern; and you too: at each ear a
	hearer: that great baby you see there is not yet
	out of his swaddling-clouts.

ROSENCRANTZ	Happily he's the second time come to them; for they
	say an old man is twice a child.

HAMLET	I will prophesy he comes to tell me of the players;
	mark it. You say right, sir: o' Monday morning;
	'twas so indeed.

LORD POLONIUS	My lord, I have news to tell you.

HAMLET	My lord, I have news to tell you.
	When Roscius was an actor in Rome,--

LORD POLONIUS	The actors are come hither, my lord.

HAMLET	Buz, buz!

LORD POLONIUS	Upon mine honour,--

HAMLET	Then came each actor on his ass,--

LORD POLONIUS	The best actors in the world, either for tragedy,
	comedy, history, pastoral, pastoral-comical,
	historical-pastoral, tragical-historical, tragical-
	comical-historical-pastoral, scene individable, or
	poem unlimited: Seneca cannot be too heavy, nor
	Plautus too light. For the law of writ and the
	liberty, these are the only men.

HAMLET	O Jephthah, judge of Israel, what a treasure hadst thou!

LORD POLONIUS	What a treasure had he, my lord?

HAMLET	Why,
	'One fair daughter and no more,
	The which he loved passing well.'

LORD POLONIUS	[Aside]  Still on my daughter.

HAMLET	Am I not i' the right, old Jephthah?

LORD POLONIUS	If you call me Jephthah, my lord, I have a daughter
	that I love passing well.

HAMLET	Nay, that follows not.

LORD POLONIUS	What follows, then, my lord?

HAMLET	Why,
	'As by lot, God wot,'
	and then, you know,
	'It came to pass, as most like it was,'--
	the first row of the pious chanson will show you
	more; for look, where my abridgement comes.

	[Enter four or five Players]

	You are welcome, masters; welcome, all. I am glad
	to see thee well. Welcome, good friends. O, my old
	friend! thy face is valenced since I saw thee last:
	comest thou to beard me in Denmark? What, my young
	lady and mistress! By'r lady, your ladyship is
	nearer to heaven than when I saw you last, by the
	altitude of a chopine. Pray God, your voice, like
	apiece of uncurrent gold, be not cracked within the
	ring. Masters, you are all welcome. We'll e'en
	to't like French falconers, fly at any thing we see:
	we'll have a speech straight: come, give us a taste
	of your quality; come, a passionate speech.

First Player	What speech, my lord?

HAMLET	I heard thee speak me a speech once, but it was
	never acted; or, if it was, not above once; for the
	play, I remember, pleased not the million; 'twas
	caviare to the general: but it was--as I received
	it, and others, whose judgments in such matters
	cried in the top of mine--an excellent play, well
	digested in the scenes, set down with as much
	modesty as cunning. I remember, one said there
	were no sallets in the lines to make the matter
	savoury, nor no matter in the phrase that might
	indict the author of affectation; but called it an
	honest method, as wholesome as sweet, and by very
	much more handsome than fine. One speech in it I
	chiefly loved: 'twas Aeneas' tale to Dido; and
	thereabout of it especially, where he speaks of
	Priam's slaughter: if it live in your memory, begin
	at this line: let me see, let me see--
	'The rugged Pyrrhus, like the Hyrcanian beast,'--
	it is not so:--it begins with Pyrrhus:--
	'The rugged Pyrrhus, he whose sable arms,
	Black as his purpose, did the night resemble
	When he lay couched in the ominous horse,
	Hath now this dread and black complexion smear'd
	With heraldry more dismal; head to foot
	Now is he total gules; horridly trick'd
	With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sons,
	Baked and impasted with the parching streets,
	That lend a tyrannous and damned light
	To their lord's murder: roasted in wrath and fire,
	And thus o'er-sized with coagulate gore,
	With eyes like carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus
	Old grandsire Priam seeks.'
	So, proceed you.

LORD POLONIUS	'Fore God, my lord, well spoken, with good accent and
	good discretion.

First Player	'Anon he finds him
	Striking too short at Greeks; his antique sword,
	Rebellious to his arm, lies where it falls,
	Repugnant to command: unequal match'd,
	Pyrrhus at Priam drives; in rage strikes wide;
	But with the whiff and wind of his fell sword
	The unnerved father falls. Then senseless Ilium,
	Seeming to feel this blow, with flaming top
	Stoops to his base, and with a hideous crash
	Takes prisoner Pyrrhus' ear: for, lo! his sword,
	Which was declining on the milky head
	Of reverend Priam, seem'd i' the air to stick:
	So, as a painted tyrant, Pyrrhus stood,
	And like a neutral to his will and matter,
	Did nothing.
	But, as we often see, against some storm,
	A silence in the heavens, the rack stand still,
	The bold winds speechless and the orb below
	As hush as death, anon the dreadful thunder
	Doth rend the region, so, after Pyrrhus' pause,
	Aroused vengeance sets him new a-work;
	And never did the Cyclops' hammers fall
	On Mars's armour forged for proof eterne
	With less remorse than Pyrrhus' bleeding sword
	Now falls on Priam.
	Out, out, thou strumpet, Fortune! All you gods,
	In general synod 'take away her power;
	Break all the spokes and fellies from her wheel,
	And bowl the round nave down the hill of heaven,
	As low as to the fiends!'

LORD POLONIUS	This is too long.

HAMLET	It shall to the barber's, with your beard. Prithee,
	say on: he's for a jig or a tale of bawdry, or he
	sleeps: say on: come to Hecuba.

First Player	'But who, O, who had seen the mobled queen--'

HAMLET	'The mobled queen?'

LORD POLONIUS	That's good; 'mobled queen' is good.

First Player	'Run barefoot up and down, threatening the flames
	With bisson rheum; a clout upon that head
	Where late the diadem stood, and for a robe,
	About her lank and all o'er-teemed loins,
	A blanket, in the alarm of fear caught up;
	Who this had seen, with tongue in venom steep'd,
	'Gainst Fortune's state would treason have
	pronounced:
	But if the gods themselves did see her then
	When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sport
	In mincing with his sword her husband's limbs,
	The instant burst of clamour that she made,
	Unless things mortal move them not at all,
	Would have made milch the burning eyes of heaven,
	And passion in the gods.'

LORD POLONIUS	Look, whether he has not turned his colour and has
	tears in's eyes. Pray you, no more.

HAMLET	'Tis well: I'll have thee speak out the rest soon.
	Good my lord, will you see the players well
	bestowed? Do you hear, let them be well used; for
	they are the abstract and brief chronicles of the
	time: after your death you were better have a bad
	epitaph than their ill report while you live.

LORD POLONIUS	My lord, I will use them according to their desert.

HAMLET	God's bodykins, man, much better: use every man
	after his desert, and who should 'scape whipping?
	Use them after your own honour and dignity: the less
	they deserve, the more merit is in your bounty.
	Take them in.

LORD POLONIUS	Come, sirs.

HAMLET	Follow him, friends: we'll hear a play to-morrow.

	[Exit POLONIUS with all the Players but the First]

	Dost thou hear me, old friend; can you play the
	Murder of Gonzago?

First Player	Ay, my lord.

HAMLET	We'll ha't to-morrow night. You could, for a need,
	study a speech of some dozen or sixteen lines, which
	I would set down and insert in't, could you not?

First Player	Ay, my lord.

HAMLET	Very well. Follow that lord; and look you mock him
	not.

	[Exit First Player]

	My good friends, I'll leave you till night: you are
	welcome to Elsinore.

ROSENCRANTZ	Good my lord!

HAMLET	Ay, so, God be wi' ye;

	[Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN]

		  Now I am alone.
	O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I!
	Is it not monstrous that this player here,
	But in a fiction, in a dream of passion,
	Could force his soul so to his own conceit
	That from her working all his visage wann'd,
	Tears in his eyes, distraction in's aspect,
	A broken voice, and his whole function suiting
	With forms to his conceit? and all for nothing!
	For Hecuba!
	What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,
	That he should weep for her? What would he do,
	Had he the motive and the cue for passion
	That I have? He would drown the stage with tears
	And cleave the general ear with horrid speech,
	Make mad the guilty and appal the free,
	Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed
	The very faculties of eyes and ears. Yet I,
	A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak,
	Like John-a-dreams, unpregnant of my cause,
	And can say nothing; no, not for a king,
	Upon whose property and most dear life
	A damn'd defeat was made. Am I a coward?
	Who calls me villain? breaks my pate across?
	Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face?
	Tweaks me by the nose? gives me the lie i' the throat,
	As deep as to the lungs? who does me this?
	Ha!
	'Swounds, I should take it: for it cannot be
	But I am pigeon-liver'd and lack gall
	To make oppression bitter, or ere this
	I should have fatted all the region kites
	With this slave's offal: bloody, bawdy villain!
	Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless villain!
	O, vengeance!
	Why, what an ass am I! This is most brave,
	That I, the son of a dear father murder'd,
	Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell,
	Must, like a whore, unpack my heart with words,
	And fall a-cursing, like a very drab,
	A scullion!
	Fie upon't! foh! About, my brain! I have heard
	That guilty creatures sitting at a play
	Have by the very cunning of the scene
	Been struck so to the soul that presently
	They have proclaim'd their malefactions;
	For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak
	With most miraculous organ. I'll have these players
	Play something like the murder of my father
	Before mine uncle: I'll observe his looks;
	I'll tent him to the quick: if he but blench,
	I know my course. The spirit that I have seen
	May be the devil: and the devil hath power
	To assume a pleasing shape; yea, and perhaps
	Out of my weakness and my melancholy,
	As he is very potent with such spirits,
	Abuses me to damn me: I'll have grounds
	More relative than this: the play 's the thing
	Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king.

	[Exit]




	HAMLET


ACT III



SCENE I	A room in the castle.


	[Enter KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, POLONIUS,
	OPHELIA, ROSENCRANTZ, and GUILDENSTERN]

KING CLAUDIUS	And can you, by no drift of circumstance,
	Get from him why he puts on this confusion,
	Grating so harshly all his days of quiet
	With turbulent and dangerous lunacy?

ROSENCRANTZ	He does confess he feels himself distracted;
	But from what cause he will by no means speak.

GUILDENSTERN	Nor do we find him forward to be sounded,
	But, with a crafty madness, keeps aloof,
	When we would bring him on to some confession
	Of his true state.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	                  Did he receive you well?

ROSENCRANTZ	Most like a gentleman.

GUILDENSTERN	But with much forcing of his disposition.

ROSENCRANTZ	Niggard of question; but, of our demands,
	Most free in his reply.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Did you assay him?
	To any pastime?

ROSENCRANTZ	Madam, it so fell out, that certain players
	We o'er-raught on the way: of these we told him;
	And there did seem in him a kind of joy
	To hear of it: they are about the court,
	And, as I think, they have already order
	This night to play before him.

LORD POLONIUS	'Tis most true:
	And he beseech'd me to entreat your majesties
	To hear and see the matter.

KING CLAUDIUS	With all my heart; and it doth much content me
	To hear him so inclined.
	Good gentlemen, give him a further edge,
	And drive his purpose on to these delights.

ROSENCRANTZ	We shall, my lord.

	[Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN]

KING CLAUDIUS	                  Sweet Gertrude, leave us too;
	For we have closely sent for Hamlet hither,
	That he, as 'twere by accident, may here
	Affront Ophelia:
	Her father and myself, lawful espials,
	Will so bestow ourselves that, seeing, unseen,
	We may of their encounter frankly judge,
	And gather by him, as he is behaved,
	If 't be the affliction of his love or no
	That thus he suffers for.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	I shall obey you.
	And for your part, Ophelia, I do wish
	That your good beauties be the happy cause
	Of Hamlet's wildness: so shall I hope your virtues
	Will bring him to his wonted way again,
	To both your honours.

OPHELIA	Madam, I wish it may.

	[Exit QUEEN GERTRUDE]

LORD POLONIUS	Ophelia, walk you here. Gracious, so please you,
	We will bestow ourselves.

	[To OPHELIA]

		    Read on this book;
	That show of such an exercise may colour
	Your loneliness. We are oft to blame in this,--
	'Tis too much proved--that with devotion's visage
	And pious action we do sugar o'er
	The devil himself.

KING CLAUDIUS	[Aside]          O, 'tis too true!
	How smart a lash that speech doth give my conscience!
	The harlot's cheek, beautied with plastering art,
	Is not more ugly to the thing that helps it
	Than is my deed to my most painted word:
	O heavy burthen!

LORD POLONIUS	I hear him coming: let's withdraw, my lord.

	[Exeunt KING CLAUDIUS and POLONIUS]

	[Enter HAMLET]

HAMLET	To be, or not to be: that is the question:
	Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
	The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
	Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
	And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
	No more; and by a sleep to say we end
	The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
	That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
	Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
	To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
	For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
	When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
	Must give us pause: there's the respect
	That makes calamity of so long life;
	For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
	The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
	The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
	The insolence of office and the spurns
	That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
	When he himself might his quietus make
	With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
	To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
	But that the dread of something after death,
	The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
	No traveller returns, puzzles the will
	And makes us rather bear those ills we have
	Than fly to others that we know not of?
	Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
	And thus the native hue of resolution
	Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
	And enterprises of great pith and moment
	With this regard their currents turn awry,
	And lose the name of action.--Soft you now!
	The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
	Be all my sins remember'd.

OPHELIA	Good my lord,
	How does your honour for this many a day?

HAMLET	I humbly thank you; well, well, well.

OPHELIA	My lord, I have remembrances of yours,
	That I have longed long to re-deliver;
	I pray you, now receive them.

HAMLET	No, not I;
	I never gave you aught.

OPHELIA	My honour'd lord, you know right well you did;
	And, with them, words of so sweet breath composed
	As made the things more rich: their perfume lost,
	Take these again; for to the noble mind
	Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.
	There, my lord.

HAMLET	Ha, ha! are you honest?

OPHELIA	My lord?

HAMLET	Are you fair?

OPHELIA	What means your lordship?

HAMLET	That if you be honest and fair, your honesty should
	admit no discourse to your beauty.

OPHELIA	Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce than
	with honesty?

HAMLET	Ay, truly; for the power of beauty will sooner
	transform honesty from what it is to a bawd than the
	force of honesty can translate beauty into his
	likeness: this was sometime a paradox, but now the
	time gives it proof. I did love you once.

OPHELIA	Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so.

HAMLET	You should not have believed me; for virtue cannot
	so inoculate our old stock but we shall relish of
	it: I loved you not.

OPHELIA	I was the more deceived.

HAMLET	Get thee to a nunnery: why wouldst thou be a
	breeder of sinners? I am myself indifferent honest;
	but yet I could accuse me of such things that it
	were better my mother had not borne me: I am very
	proud, revengeful, ambitious, with more offences at
	my beck than I have thoughts to put them in,
	imagination to give them shape, or time to act them
	in. What should such fellows as I do crawling
	between earth and heaven? We are arrant knaves,
	all; believe none of us. Go thy ways to a nunnery.
	Where's your father?

OPHELIA	At home, my lord.

HAMLET	Let the doors be shut upon him, that he may play the
	fool no where but in's own house. Farewell.

OPHELIA	O, help him, you sweet heavens!

HAMLET	If thou dost marry, I'll give thee this plague for
	thy dowry: be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as
	snow, thou shalt not escape calumny. Get thee to a
	nunnery, go: farewell. Or, if thou wilt needs
	marry, marry a fool; for wise men know well enough
	what monsters you make of them. To a nunnery, go,
	and quickly too. Farewell.

OPHELIA	O heavenly powers, restore him!

HAMLET	I have heard of your paintings too, well enough; God
	has given you one face, and you make yourselves
	another: you jig, you amble, and you lisp, and
	nick-name God's creatures, and make your wantonness
	your ignorance. Go to, I'll no more on't; it hath
	made me mad. I say, we will have no more marriages:
	those that are married already, all but one, shall
	live; the rest shall keep as they are. To a
	nunnery, go.

	[Exit]

OPHELIA	O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown!
	The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's, eye, tongue, sword;
	The expectancy and rose of the fair state,
	The glass of fashion and the mould of form,
	The observed of all observers, quite, quite down!
	And I, of ladies most deject and wretched,
	That suck'd the honey of his music vows,
	Now see that noble and most sovereign reason,
	Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh;
	That unmatch'd form and feature of blown youth
	Blasted with ecstasy: O, woe is me,
	To have seen what I have seen, see what I see!

	[Re-enter KING CLAUDIUS and POLONIUS]

KING CLAUDIUS	Love! his affections do not that way tend;
	Nor what he spake, though it lack'd form a little,
	Was not like madness. There's something in his soul,
	O'er which his melancholy sits on brood;
	And I do doubt the hatch and the disclose
	Will be some danger: which for to prevent,
	I have in quick determination
	Thus set it down: he shall with speed to England,
	For the demand of our neglected tribute
	Haply the seas and countries different
	With variable objects shall expel
	This something-settled matter in his heart,
	Whereon his brains still beating puts him thus
	From fashion of himself. What think you on't?

LORD POLONIUS	It shall do well: but yet do I believe
	The origin and commencement of his grief
	Sprung from neglected love. How now, Ophelia!
	You need not tell us what Lord Hamlet said;
	We heard it all. My lord, do as you please;
	But, if you hold it fit, after the play
	Let his queen mother all alone entreat him
	To show his grief: let her be round with him;
	And I'll be placed, so please you, in the ear
	Of all their conference. If she find him not,
	To England send him, or confine him where
	Your wisdom best shall think.

KING CLAUDIUS	It shall be so:
	Madness in great ones must not unwatch'd go.

	[Exeunt]




	HAMLET


ACT III



SCENE II	A hall in the castle.


	[Enter HAMLET and Players]

HAMLET	Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to
	you, trippingly on the tongue: but if you mouth it,
	as many of your players do, I had as lief the
	town-crier spoke my lines. Nor do not saw the air
	too much with your hand, thus, but use all gently;
	for in the very torrent, tempest, and, as I may say,
	the whirlwind of passion, you must acquire and beget
	a temperance that may give it smoothness. O, it
	offends me to the soul to hear a robustious
	periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to
	very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings, who
	for the most part are capable of nothing but
	inexplicable dumbshows and noise: I would have such
	a fellow whipped for o'erdoing Termagant; it
	out-herods Herod: pray you, avoid it.

First Player	I warrant your honour.

HAMLET	Be not too tame neither, but let your own discretion
	be your tutor: suit the action to the word, the
	word to the action; with this special o'erstep not
	the modesty of nature: for any thing so overdone is
	from the purpose of playing, whose end, both at the
	first and now, was and is, to hold, as 'twere, the
	mirror up to nature; to show virtue her own feature,
	scorn her own image, and the very age and body of
	the time his form and pressure. Now this overdone,
	or come tardy off, though it make the unskilful
	laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve; the
	censure of the which one must in your allowance
	o'erweigh a whole theatre of others. O, there be
	players that I have seen play, and heard others
	praise, and that highly, not to speak it profanely,
	that, neither having the accent of Christians nor
	the gait of Christian, pagan, nor man, have so
	strutted and bellowed that I have thought some of
	nature's journeymen had made men and not made them
	well, they imitated humanity so abominably.

First Player	I hope we have reformed that indifferently with us,
	sir.

HAMLET	O, reform it altogether. And let those that play
	your clowns speak no more than is set down for them;
	for there be of them that will themselves laugh, to
	set on some quantity of barren spectators to laugh
	too; though, in the mean time, some necessary
	question of the play be then to be considered:
	that's villanous, and shows a most pitiful ambition
	in the fool that uses it. Go, make you ready.

	[Exeunt Players]

	[Enter POLONIUS, ROSENCRANTZ, and GUILDENSTERN]

	How now, my lord! I will the king hear this piece of work?

LORD POLONIUS	And the queen too, and that presently.

HAMLET	Bid the players make haste.

	[Exit POLONIUS]

	Will you two help to hasten them?


ROSENCRANTZ	|
	|  We will, my lord.
GUILDENSTERN	|


	[Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN]

HAMLET	What ho! Horatio!

	[Enter HORATIO]

HORATIO	Here, sweet lord, at your service.

HAMLET	Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man
	As e'er my conversation coped withal.

HORATIO	O, my dear lord,--

HAMLET	                  Nay, do not think I flatter;
	For what advancement may I hope from thee
	That no revenue hast but thy good spirits,
	To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor be flatter'd?
	No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp,
	And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee
	Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear?
	Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice
	And could of men distinguish, her election
	Hath seal'd thee for herself; for thou hast been
	As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing,
	A man that fortune's buffets and rewards
	Hast ta'en with equal thanks: and blest are those
	Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled,
	That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger
	To sound what stop she please. Give me that man
	That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him
	In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart,
	As I do thee.--Something too much of this.--
	There is a play to-night before the king;
	One scene of it comes near the circumstance
	Which I have told thee of my father's death:
	I prithee, when thou seest that act afoot,
	Even with the very comment of thy soul
	Observe mine uncle: if his occulted guilt
	Do not itself unkennel in one speech,
	It is a damned ghost that we have seen,
	And my imaginations are as foul
	As Vulcan's stithy. Give him heedful note;
	For I mine eyes will rivet to his face,
	And after we will both our judgments join
	In censure of his seeming.

HORATIO	Well, my lord:
	If he steal aught the whilst this play is playing,
	And 'scape detecting, I will pay the theft.

HAMLET	They are coming to the play; I must be idle:
	Get you a place.

	[Danish march. A flourish. Enter KING CLAUDIUS,
	QUEEN GERTRUDE, POLONIUS, OPHELIA, ROSENCRANTZ,
	GUILDENSTERN, and others]

KING CLAUDIUS	How fares our cousin Hamlet?

HAMLET	Excellent, i' faith; of the chameleon's dish: I eat
	the air, promise-crammed: you cannot feed capons so.

KING CLAUDIUS	I have nothing with this answer, Hamlet; these words
	are not mine.

HAMLET	No, nor mine now.

	[To POLONIUS]

	My lord, you played once i' the university, you say?

LORD POLONIUS	That did I, my lord; and was accounted a good actor.

HAMLET	What did you enact?

LORD POLONIUS	I did enact Julius Caesar: I was killed i' the
	Capitol; Brutus killed me.

HAMLET	It was a brute part of him to kill so capital a calf
	there. Be the players ready?

ROSENCRANTZ	Ay, my lord; they stay upon your patience.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Come hither, my dear Hamlet, sit by me.

HAMLET	No, good mother, here's metal more attractive.

LORD POLONIUS	[To KING CLAUDIUS]  O, ho! do you mark that?

HAMLET	Lady, shall I lie in your lap?

	[Lying down at OPHELIA's feet]

OPHELIA	No, my lord.

HAMLET	I mean, my head upon your lap?

OPHELIA	Ay, my lord.

HAMLET	Do you think I meant country matters?

OPHELIA	I think nothing, my lord.

HAMLET	That's a fair thought to lie between maids' legs.

OPHELIA	What is, my lord?

HAMLET	Nothing.

OPHELIA	You are merry, my lord.

HAMLET	Who, I?

OPHELIA	Ay, my lord.

HAMLET	O God, your only jig-maker. What should a man do
	but be merry? for, look you, how cheerfully my
	mother looks, and my father died within these two hours.

OPHELIA	Nay, 'tis twice two months, my lord.

HAMLET	So long? Nay then, let the devil wear black, for
	I'll have a suit of sables. O heavens! die two
	months ago, and not forgotten yet? Then there's
	hope a great man's memory may outlive his life half
	a year: but, by'r lady, he must build churches,
	then; or else shall he suffer not thinking on, with
	the hobby-horse, whose epitaph is 'For, O, for, O,
	the hobby-horse is forgot.'

	[Hautboys play. The dumb-show enters]

	[Enter a King and a Queen very lovingly; the Queen
	embracing him, and he her. She kneels, and makes
	show of protestation unto him. He takes her up,
	and declines his head upon her neck: lays him down
	upon a bank of flowers: she, seeing him asleep,
	leaves him. Anon comes in a fellow, takes off his
	crown, kisses it, and pours poison in the King's
	ears, and exit. The Queen returns; finds the King
	dead, and makes passionate action. The Poisoner,
	with some two or three Mutes, comes in again,
	seeming to lament with her. The dead body is
	carried away. The Poisoner wooes the Queen with
	gifts: she seems loath and unwilling awhile, but
	in the end accepts his love]

	[Exeunt]

OPHELIA	What means this, my lord?

HAMLET	Marry, this is miching mallecho; it means mischief.

OPHELIA	Belike this show imports the argument of the play.

	[Enter Prologue]

HAMLET	We shall know by this fellow: the players cannot
	keep counsel; they'll tell all.

OPHELIA	Will he tell us what this show meant?

HAMLET	Ay, or any show that you'll show him: be not you
	ashamed to show, he'll not shame to tell you what it means.

OPHELIA	You are naught, you are naught: I'll mark the play.

Prologue	     For us, and for our tragedy,
	Here stooping to your clemency,
	We beg your hearing patiently.

	[Exit]

HAMLET	Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring?

OPHELIA	'Tis brief, my lord.

HAMLET	As woman's love.

	[Enter two Players, King and Queen]

Player King	   Full thirty times hath Phoebus' cart gone round
	Neptune's salt wash and Tellus' orbed ground,
	And thirty dozen moons with borrow'd sheen
	About the world have times twelve thirties been,
	Since love our hearts and Hymen did our hands
	Unite commutual in most sacred bands.

Player Queen	   So many journeys may the sun and moon
	Make us again count o'er ere love be done!
	But, woe is me, you are so sick of late,
	So far from cheer and from your former state,
	That I distrust you. Yet, though I distrust,
	Discomfort you, my lord, it nothing must:
	For women's fear and love holds quantity;
	In neither aught, or in extremity.
	Now, what my love is, proof hath made you know;
	And as my love is sized, my fear is so:
	Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear;
	Where little fears grow great, great love grows there.

Player King	'Faith, I must leave thee, love, and shortly too;
	My operant powers their functions leave to do:
	And thou shalt live in this fair world behind,
	Honour'd, beloved; and haply one as kind
	For husband shalt thou--

Player Queen	O, confound the rest!
	Such love must needs be treason in my breast:
	In second husband let me be accurst!
	None wed the second but who kill'd the first.

HAMLET	[Aside]  Wormwood, wormwood.

Player Queen	   The instances that second marriage move
	Are base respects of thrift, but none of love:
	A second time I kill my husband dead,
	When second husband kisses me in bed.

Player King	   I do believe you think what now you speak;
	But what we do determine oft we break.
	Purpose is but the slave to memory,
	Of violent birth, but poor validity;
	Which now, like fruit unripe, sticks on the tree;
	But fall, unshaken, when they mellow be.
	Most necessary 'tis that we forget
	To pay ourselves what to ourselves is debt:
	What to ourselves in passion we propose,
	The passion ending, doth the purpose lose.
	The violence of either grief or joy
	Their own enactures with themselves destroy:
	Where joy most revels, grief doth most lament;
	Grief joys, joy grieves, on slender accident.
	This world is not for aye, nor 'tis not strange
	That even our loves should with our fortunes change;
	For 'tis a question left us yet to prove,
	Whether love lead fortune, or else fortune love.
	The great man down, you mark his favourite flies;
	The poor advanced makes friends of enemies.
	And hitherto doth love on fortune tend;
	For who not needs shall never lack a friend,
	And who in want a hollow friend doth try,
	Directly seasons him his enemy.
	But, orderly to end where I begun,
	Our wills and fates do so contrary run
	That our devices still are overthrown;
	Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own:
	So think thou wilt no second husband wed;
	But die thy thoughts when thy first lord is dead.

Player Queen	   Nor earth to me give food, nor heaven light!
	Sport and repose lock from me day and night!
	To desperation turn my trust and hope!
	An anchor's cheer in prison be my scope!
	Each opposite that blanks the face of joy
	Meet what I would have well and it destroy!
	Both here and hence pursue me lasting strife,
	If, once a widow, ever I be wife!

HAMLET	If she should break it now!

Player King	'Tis deeply sworn. Sweet, leave me here awhile;
	My spirits grow dull, and fain I would beguile
	The tedious day with sleep.

	[Sleeps]

Player Queen	Sleep rock thy brain,
	And never come mischance between us twain!

	[Exit]

HAMLET	Madam, how like you this play?

QUEEN GERTRUDE	The lady protests too much, methinks.

HAMLET	O, but she'll keep her word.

KING CLAUDIUS	Have you heard the argument? Is there no offence in 't?

HAMLET	No, no, they do but jest, poison in jest; no offence
	i' the world.

KING CLAUDIUS	What do you call the play?

HAMLET	The Mouse-trap. Marry, how? Tropically. This play
	is the image of a murder done in Vienna: Gonzago is
	the duke's name; his wife, Baptista: you shall see
	anon; 'tis a knavish piece of work: but what o'
	that? your majesty and we that have free souls, it
	touches us not: let the galled jade wince, our
	withers are unwrung.

	[Enter LUCIANUS]

	This is one Lucianus, nephew to the king.

OPHELIA	You are as good as a chorus, my lord.

HAMLET	I could interpret between you and your love, if I
	could see the puppets dallying.

OPHELIA	You are keen, my lord, you are keen.

HAMLET	It would cost you a groaning to take off my edge.

OPHELIA	Still better, and worse.

HAMLET	So you must take your husbands. Begin, murderer;
	pox, leave thy damnable faces, and begin. Come:
	'the croaking raven doth bellow for revenge.'

LUCIANUS	   Thoughts black, hands apt, drugs fit, and time agreeing;
	Confederate season, else no creature seeing;
	Thou mixture rank, of midnight weeds collected,
	With Hecate's ban thrice blasted, thrice infected,
	Thy natural magic and dire property,
	On wholesome life usurp immediately.

	[Pours the poison into the sleeper's ears]

HAMLET	He poisons him i' the garden for's estate. His
	name's Gonzago: the story is extant, and writ in
	choice Italian: you shall see anon how the murderer
	gets the love of Gonzago's wife.

OPHELIA	The king rises.

HAMLET	What, frighted with false fire!

QUEEN GERTRUDE	How fares my lord?

LORD POLONIUS	Give o'er the play.

KING CLAUDIUS	Give me some light: away!

All	Lights, lights, lights!

	[Exeunt all but HAMLET and HORATIO]

HAMLET	     Why, let the stricken deer go weep,
	The hart ungalled play;
	For some must watch, while some must sleep:
	So runs the world away.
	Would not this, sir, and a forest of feathers-- if
	the rest of my fortunes turn Turk with me--with two
	Provincial roses on my razed shoes, get me a
	fellowship in a cry of players, sir?

HORATIO	Half a share.

HAMLET	A whole one, I.
	For thou dost know, O Damon dear,
	This realm dismantled was
	Of Jove himself; and now reigns here
	A very, very--pajock.

HORATIO	You might have rhymed.

HAMLET	O good Horatio, I'll take the ghost's word for a
	thousand pound. Didst perceive?

HORATIO	Very well, my lord.

HAMLET	Upon the talk of the poisoning?

HORATIO	I did very well note him.

HAMLET	Ah, ha! Come, some music! come, the recorders!
	For if the king like not the comedy,
	Why then, belike, he likes it not, perdy.
	Come, some music!

	[Re-enter ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN]

GUILDENSTERN	Good my lord, vouchsafe me a word with you.

HAMLET	Sir, a whole history.

GUILDENSTERN	The king, sir,--

HAMLET	Ay, sir, what of him?

GUILDENSTERN	Is in his retirement marvellous distempered.

HAMLET	With drink, sir?

GUILDENSTERN	No, my lord, rather with choler.

HAMLET	Your wisdom should show itself more richer to
	signify this to his doctor; for, for me to put him
	to his purgation would perhaps plunge him into far
	more choler.

GUILDENSTERN	Good my lord, put your discourse into some frame and
	start not so wildly from my affair.

HAMLET	I am tame, sir: pronounce.

GUILDENSTERN	The queen, your mother, in most great affliction of
	spirit, hath sent me to you.

HAMLET	You are welcome.

GUILDENSTERN	Nay, good my lord, this courtesy is not of the right
	breed. If it shall please you to make me a
	wholesome answer, I will do your mother's
	commandment: if not, your pardon and my return
	shall be the end of my business.

HAMLET	Sir, I cannot.

GUILDENSTERN	What, my lord?

HAMLET	Make you a wholesome answer; my wit's diseased: but,
	sir, such answer as I can make, you shall command;
	or, rather, as you say, my mother: therefore no
	more, but to the matter: my mother, you say,--

ROSENCRANTZ	Then thus she says; your behavior hath struck her
	into amazement and admiration.

HAMLET	O wonderful son, that can so astonish a mother! But
	is there no sequel at the heels of this mother's
	admiration? Impart.

ROSENCRANTZ	She desires to speak with you in her closet, ere you
	go to bed.

HAMLET	We shall obey, were she ten times our mother. Have
	you any further trade with us?

ROSENCRANTZ	My lord, you once did love me.

HAMLET	So I do still, by these pickers and stealers.

ROSENCRANTZ	Good my lord, what is your cause of distemper? you
	do, surely, bar the door upon your own liberty, if
	you deny your griefs to your friend.

HAMLET	Sir, I lack advancement.

ROSENCRANTZ	How can that be, when you have the voice of the king
	himself for your succession in Denmark?

HAMLET	Ay, but sir, 'While the grass grows,'--the proverb
	is something musty.

	[Re-enter Players with recorders]

	O, the recorders! let me see one. To withdraw with
	you:--why do you go about to recover the wind of me,
	as if you would drive me into a toil?

GUILDENSTERN	O, my lord, if my duty be too bold, my love is too
	unmannerly.

HAMLET	I do not well understand that. Will you play upon
	this pipe?

GUILDENSTERN	My lord, I cannot.

HAMLET	I pray you.

GUILDENSTERN	Believe me, I cannot.

HAMLET	I do beseech you.

GUILDENSTERN	I know no touch of it, my lord.

HAMLET	'Tis as easy as lying: govern these ventages with
	your lingers and thumb, give it breath with your
	mouth, and it will discourse most eloquent music.
	Look you, these are the stops.

GUILDENSTERN	But these cannot I command to any utterance of
	harmony; I have not the skill.

HAMLET	Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of
	me! You would play upon me; you would seem to know
	my stops; you would pluck out the heart of my
	mystery; you would sound me from my lowest note to
	the top of my compass: and there is much music,
	excellent voice, in this little organ; yet cannot
	you make it speak. 'Sblood, do you think I am
	easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what
	instrument you will, though you can fret me, yet you
	cannot play upon me.

	[Enter POLONIUS]

	God bless you, sir!

LORD POLONIUS	My lord, the queen would speak with you, and
	presently.

HAMLET	Do you see yonder cloud that's almost in shape of a camel?

LORD POLONIUS	By the mass, and 'tis like a camel, indeed.

HAMLET	Methinks it is like a weasel.

LORD POLONIUS	It is backed like a weasel.

HAMLET	Or like a whale?

LORD POLONIUS	Very like a whale.

HAMLET	Then I will come to my mother by and by. They fool
	me to the top of my bent. I will come by and by.

LORD POLONIUS	I will say so.

HAMLET	By and by is easily said.

	[Exit POLONIUS]

	Leave me, friends.

	[Exeunt all but HAMLET]

	Tis now the very witching time of night,
	When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out
	Contagion to this world: now could I drink hot blood,
	And do such bitter business as the day
	Would quake to look on. Soft! now to my mother.
	O heart, lose not thy nature; let not ever
	The soul of Nero enter this firm bosom:
	Let me be cruel, not unnatural:
	I will speak daggers to her, but use none;
	My tongue and soul in this be hypocrites;
	How in my words soever she be shent,
	To give them seals never, my soul, consent!

	[Exit]



	HAMLET


ACT III



SCENE III	A room in the castle.


	[Enter KING CLAUDIUS, ROSENCRANTZ, and GUILDENSTERN]

KING CLAUDIUS	I like him not, nor stands it safe with us
	To let his madness range. Therefore prepare you;
	I your commission will forthwith dispatch,
	And he to England shall along with you:
	The terms of our estate may not endure
	Hazard so dangerous as doth hourly grow
	Out of his lunacies.

GUILDENSTERN	We will ourselves provide:
	Most holy and religious fear it is
	To keep those many many bodies safe
	That live and feed upon your majesty.

ROSENCRANTZ	The single and peculiar life is bound,
	With all the strength and armour of the mind,
	To keep itself from noyance; but much more
	That spirit upon whose weal depend and rest
	The lives of many. The cease of majesty
	Dies not alone; but, like a gulf, doth draw
	What's near it with it: it is a massy wheel,
	Fix'd on the summit of the highest mount,
	To whose huge spokes ten thousand lesser things
	Are mortised and adjoin'd; which, when it falls,
	Each small annexment, petty consequence,
	Attends the boisterous ruin. Never alone
	Did the king sigh, but with a general groan.

KING CLAUDIUS	Arm you, I pray you, to this speedy voyage;
	For we will fetters put upon this fear,
	Which now goes too free-footed.


ROSENCRANTZ	|
	|	We will haste us.
GUILDENSTERN	|


	[Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN]

	[Enter POLONIUS]

LORD POLONIUS	My lord, he's going to his mother's closet:
	Behind the arras I'll convey myself,
	To hear the process; and warrant she'll tax him home:
	And, as you said, and wisely was it said,
	'Tis meet that some more audience than a mother,
	Since nature makes them partial, should o'erhear
	The speech, of vantage. Fare you well, my liege:
	I'll call upon you ere you go to bed,
	And tell you what I know.

KING CLAUDIUS	Thanks, dear my lord.

	[Exit POLONIUS]

	O, my offence is rank it smells to heaven;
	It hath the primal eldest curse upon't,
	A brother's murder. Pray can I not,
	Though inclination be as sharp as will:
	My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent;
	And, like a man to double business bound,
	I stand in pause where I shall first begin,
	And both neglect. What if this cursed hand
	Were thicker than itself with brother's blood,
	Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens
	To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves mercy
	But to confront the visage of offence?
	And what's in prayer but this two-fold force,
	To be forestalled ere we come to fall,
	Or pardon'd being down? Then I'll look up;
	My fault is past. But, O, what form of prayer
	Can serve my turn? 'Forgive me my foul murder'?
	That cannot be; since I am still possess'd
	Of those effects for which I did the murder,
	My crown, mine own ambition and my queen.
	May one be pardon'd and retain the offence?
	In the corrupted currents of this world
	Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice,
	And oft 'tis seen the wicked prize itself
	Buys out the law: but 'tis not so above;
	There is no shuffling, there the action lies
	In his true nature; and we ourselves compell'd,
	Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults,
	To give in evidence. What then? what rests?
	Try what repentance can: what can it not?
	Yet what can it when one can not repent?
	O wretched state! O bosom black as death!
	O limed soul, that, struggling to be free,
	Art more engaged! Help, angels! Make assay!
	Bow, stubborn knees; and, heart with strings of steel,
	Be soft as sinews of the newborn babe!
	All may be well.

	[Retires and kneels]

	[Enter HAMLET]

HAMLET	Now might I do it pat, now he is praying;
	And now I'll do't. And so he goes to heaven;
	And so am I revenged. That would be scann'd:
	A villain kills my father; and for that,
	I, his sole son, do this same villain send
	To heaven.
	O, this is hire and salary, not revenge.
	He took my father grossly, full of bread;
	With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May;
	And how his audit stands who knows save heaven?
	But in our circumstance and course of thought,
	'Tis heavy with him: and am I then revenged,
	To take him in the purging of his soul,
	When he is fit and season'd for his passage?
	No!
	Up, sword; and know thou a more horrid hent:
	When he is drunk asleep, or in his rage,
	Or in the incestuous pleasure of his bed;
	At gaming, swearing, or about some act
	That has no relish of salvation in't;
	Then trip him, that his heels may kick at heaven,
	And that his soul may be as damn'd and black
	As hell, whereto it goes. My mother stays:
	This physic but prolongs thy sickly days.

	[Exit]

KING CLAUDIUS	[Rising]  My words fly up, my thoughts remain below:
	Words without thoughts never to heaven go.

	[Exit]




	HAMLET


ACT III



SCENE IV	The Queen's closet.


	[Enter QUEEN MARGARET and POLONIUS]

LORD POLONIUS	He will come straight. Look you lay home to him:
	Tell him his pranks have been too broad to bear with,
	And that your grace hath screen'd and stood between
	Much heat and him. I'll sconce me even here.
	Pray you, be round with him.

HAMLET	[Within]  Mother, mother, mother!

QUEEN GERTRUDE	I'll warrant you,
	Fear me not: withdraw, I hear him coming.

	[POLONIUS hides behind the arras]

	[Enter HAMLET]

HAMLET	Now, mother, what's the matter?

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended.

HAMLET	Mother, you have my father much offended.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Come, come, you answer with an idle tongue.

HAMLET	Go, go, you question with a wicked tongue.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Why, how now, Hamlet!

HAMLET	What's the matter now?

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Have you forgot me?

HAMLET	No, by the rood, not so:
	You are the queen, your husband's brother's wife;
	And--would it were not so!--you are my mother.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Nay, then, I'll set those to you that can speak.

HAMLET	Come, come, and sit you down; you shall not budge;
	You go not till I set you up a glass
	Where you may see the inmost part of you.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	What wilt thou do? thou wilt not murder me?
	Help, help, ho!

LORD POLONIUS	[Behind]  What, ho! help, help, help!

HAMLET	[Drawing]  How now! a rat? Dead, for a ducat, dead!

	[Makes a pass through the arras]

LORD POLONIUS	[Behind]  O, I am slain!

	[Falls and dies]

QUEEN GERTRUDE	O me, what hast thou done?

HAMLET	Nay, I know not:
	Is it the king?

QUEEN GERTRUDE	O, what a rash and bloody deed is this!

HAMLET	A bloody deed! almost as bad, good mother,
	As kill a king, and marry with his brother.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	As kill a king!

HAMLET	                  Ay, lady, 'twas my word.

	[Lifts up the array and discovers POLONIUS]

	Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell!
	I took thee for thy better: take thy fortune;
	Thou find'st to be too busy is some danger.
	Leave wringing of your hands: peace! sit you down,
	And let me wring your heart; for so I shall,
	If it be made of penetrable stuff,
	If damned custom have not brass'd it so
	That it is proof and bulwark against sense.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	What have I done, that thou darest wag thy tongue
	In noise so rude against me?

HAMLET	Such an act
	That blurs the grace and blush of modesty,
	Calls virtue hypocrite, takes off the rose
	From the fair forehead of an innocent love
	And sets a blister there, makes marriage-vows
	As false as dicers' oaths: O, such a deed
	As from the body of contraction plucks
	The very soul, and sweet religion makes
	A rhapsody of words: heaven's face doth glow:
	Yea, this solidity and compound mass,
	With tristful visage, as against the doom,
	Is thought-sick at the act.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Ay me, what act,
	That roars so loud, and thunders in the index?

HAMLET	Look here, upon this picture, and on this,
	The counterfeit presentment of two brothers.
	See, what a grace was seated on this brow;
	Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himself;
	An eye like Mars, to threaten and command;
	A station like the herald Mercury
	New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill;
	A combination and a form indeed,
	Where every god did seem to set his seal,
	To give the world assurance of a man:
	This was your husband. Look you now, what follows:
	Here is your husband; like a mildew'd ear,
	Blasting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes?
	Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed,
	And batten on this moor? Ha! have you eyes?
	You cannot call it love; for at your age
	The hey-day in the blood is tame, it's humble,
	And waits upon the judgment: and what judgment
	Would step from this to this? Sense, sure, you have,
	Else could you not have motion; but sure, that sense
	Is apoplex'd; for madness would not err,
	Nor sense to ecstasy was ne'er so thrall'd
	But it reserved some quantity of choice,
	To serve in such a difference. What devil was't
	That thus hath cozen'd you at hoodman-blind?
	Eyes without feeling, feeling without sight,
	Ears without hands or eyes, smelling sans all,
	Or but a sickly part of one true sense
	Could not so mope.
	O shame! where is thy blush? Rebellious hell,
	If thou canst mutine in a matron's bones,
	To flaming youth let virtue be as wax,
	And melt in her own fire: proclaim no shame
	When the compulsive ardour gives the charge,
	Since frost itself as actively doth burn
	And reason panders will.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	O Hamlet, speak no more:
	Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul;
	And there I see such black and grained spots
	As will not leave their tinct.

HAMLET	Nay, but to live
	In the rank sweat of an enseamed bed,
	Stew'd in corruption, honeying and making love
	Over the nasty sty,--

QUEEN GERTRUDE	O, speak to me no more;
	These words, like daggers, enter in mine ears;
	No more, sweet Hamlet!

HAMLET	A murderer and a villain;
	A slave that is not twentieth part the tithe
	Of your precedent lord; a vice of kings;
	A cutpurse of the empire and the rule,
	That from a shelf the precious diadem stole,
	And put it in his pocket!

QUEEN GERTRUDE	No more!

HAMLET	A king of shreds and patches,--

	[Enter Ghost]

	Save me, and hover o'er me with your wings,
	You heavenly guards! What would your gracious figure?

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Alas, he's mad!

HAMLET	Do you not come your tardy son to chide,
	That, lapsed in time and passion, lets go by
	The important acting of your dread command? O, say!

Ghost	Do not forget: this visitation
	Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose.
	But, look, amazement on thy mother sits:
	O, step between her and her fighting soul:
	Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works:
	Speak to her, Hamlet.

HAMLET	How is it with you, lady?

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Alas, how is't with you,
	That you do bend your eye on vacancy
	And with the incorporal air do hold discourse?
	Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep;
	And, as the sleeping soldiers in the alarm,
	Your bedded hair, like life in excrements,
	Starts up, and stands on end. O gentle son,
	Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper
	Sprinkle cool patience. Whereon do you look?

HAMLET	On him, on him! Look you, how pale he glares!
	His form and cause conjoin'd, preaching to stones,
	Would make them capable. Do not look upon me;
	Lest with this piteous action you convert
	My stern effects: then what I have to do
	Will want true colour; tears perchance for blood.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	To whom do you speak this?

HAMLET	Do you see nothing there?

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Nothing at all; yet all that is I see.

HAMLET	Nor did you nothing hear?

QUEEN GERTRUDE	No, nothing but ourselves.

HAMLET	Why, look you there! look, how it steals away!
	My father, in his habit as he lived!
	Look, where he goes, even now, out at the portal!

	[Exit Ghost]

QUEEN GERTRUDE	This the very coinage of your brain:
	This bodiless creation ecstasy
	Is very cunning in.

HAMLET	Ecstasy!
	My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep time,
	And makes as healthful music: it is not madness
	That I have utter'd: bring me to the test,
	And I the matter will re-word; which madness
	Would gambol from. Mother, for love of grace,
	Lay not that mattering unction to your soul,
	That not your trespass, but my madness speaks:
	It will but skin and film the ulcerous place,
	Whilst rank corruption, mining all within,
	Infects unseen. Confess yourself to heaven;
	Repent what's past; avoid what is to come;
	And do not spread the compost on the weeds,
	To make them ranker. Forgive me this my virtue;
	For in the fatness of these pursy times
	Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg,
	Yea, curb and woo for leave to do him good.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	O Hamlet, thou hast cleft my heart in twain.

HAMLET	O, throw away the worser part of it,
	And live the purer with the other half.
	Good night: but go not to mine uncle's bed;
	Assume a virtue, if you have it not.
	That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat,
	Of habits devil, is angel yet in this,
	That to the use of actions fair and good
	He likewise gives a frock or livery,
	That aptly is put on. Refrain to-night,
	And that shall lend a kind of easiness
	To the next abstinence: the next more easy;
	For use almost can change the stamp of nature,
	And either [         ] the devil, or throw him out
	With wondrous potency. Once more, good night:
	And when you are desirous to be bless'd,
	I'll blessing beg of you. For this same lord,

	[Pointing to POLONIUS]

	I do repent: but heaven hath pleased it so,
	To punish me with this and this with me,
	That I must be their scourge and minister.
	I will bestow him, and will answer well
	The death I gave him. So, again, good night.
	I must be cruel, only to be kind:
	Thus bad begins and worse remains behind.
	One word more, good lady.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	What shall I do?

HAMLET	Not this, by no means, that I bid you do:
	Let the bloat king tempt you again to bed;
	Pinch wanton on your cheek; call you his mouse;
	And let him, for a pair of reechy kisses,
	Or paddling in your neck with his damn'd fingers,
	Make you to ravel all this matter out,
	That I essentially am not in madness,
	But mad in craft. 'Twere good you let him know;
	For who, that's but a queen, fair, sober, wise,
	Would from a paddock, from a bat, a gib,
	Such dear concernings hide? who would do so?
	No, in despite of sense and secrecy,
	Unpeg the basket on the house's top.
	Let the birds fly, and, like the famous ape,
	To try conclusions, in the basket creep,
	And break your own neck down.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Be thou assured, if words be made of breath,
	And breath of life, I have no life to breathe
	What thou hast said to me.

HAMLET	I must to England; you know that?

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Alack,
	I had forgot: 'tis so concluded on.

HAMLET	There's letters seal'd: and my two schoolfellows,
	Whom I will trust as I will adders fang'd,
	They bear the mandate; they must sweep my way,
	And marshal me to knavery. Let it work;
	For 'tis the sport to have the engineer
	Hoist with his own petard: and 't shall go hard
	But I will delve one yard below their mines,
	And blow them at the moon: O, 'tis most sweet,
	When in one line two crafts directly meet.
	This man shall set me packing:
	I'll lug the guts into the neighbour room.
	Mother, good night. Indeed this counsellor
	Is now most still, most secret and most grave,
	Who was in life a foolish prating knave.
	Come, sir, to draw toward an end with you.
	Good night, mother.

	[Exeunt severally; HAMLET dragging in POLONIUS]




	HAMLET


ACT IV



SCENE I	A room in the castle.


	[Enter KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, ROSENCRANTZ,
	and GUILDENSTERN]

KING CLAUDIUS	There's matter in these sighs, these profound heaves:
	You must translate: 'tis fit we understand them.
	Where is your son?

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Bestow this place on us a little while.

	[Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN]

	Ah, my good lord, what have I seen to-night!

KING CLAUDIUS	What, Gertrude? How does Hamlet?

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Mad as the sea and wind, when both contend
	Which is the mightier: in his lawless fit,
	Behind the arras hearing something stir,
	Whips out his rapier, cries, 'A rat, a rat!'
	And, in this brainish apprehension, kills
	The unseen good old man.

KING CLAUDIUS	O heavy deed!
	It had been so with us, had we been there:
	His liberty is full of threats to all;
	To you yourself, to us, to every one.
	Alas, how shall this bloody deed be answer'd?
	It will be laid to us, whose providence
	Should have kept short, restrain'd and out of haunt,
	This mad young man: but so much was our love,
	We would not understand what was most fit;
	But, like the owner of a foul disease,
	To keep it from divulging, let it feed
	Even on the pith of Life. Where is he gone?

QUEEN GERTRUDE	To draw apart the body he hath kill'd:
	O'er whom his very madness, like some ore
	Among a mineral of metals base,
	Shows itself pure; he weeps for what is done.

KING CLAUDIUS	O Gertrude, come away!
	The sun no sooner shall the mountains touch,
	But we will ship him hence: and this vile deed
	We must, with all our majesty and skill,
	Both countenance and excuse. Ho, Guildenstern!

	[Re-enter ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN]

	Friends both, go join you with some further aid:
	Hamlet in madness hath Polonius slain,
	And from his mother's closet hath he dragg'd him:
	Go seek him out; speak fair, and bring the body
	Into the chapel. I pray you, haste in this.

	[Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN]

	Come, Gertrude, we'll call up our wisest friends;
	And let them know, both what we mean to do,
	And what's untimely done [                ]
	Whose whisper o'er the world's diameter,
	As level as the cannon to his blank,
	Transports his poison'd shot, may miss our name,
	And hit the woundless air. O, come away!
	My soul is full of discord and dismay.

	[Exeunt]




	HAMLET


ACT IV



SCENE II	Another room in the castle.


	[Enter HAMLET]

HAMLET	Safely stowed.


ROSENCRANTZ:	|
	|   [Within]  Hamlet! Lord Hamlet!
GUILDENSTERN:	|


HAMLET	What noise? who calls on Hamlet?
	O, here they come.

	[Enter ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN]

ROSENCRANTZ	What have you done, my lord, with the dead body?

HAMLET	Compounded it with dust, whereto 'tis kin.

ROSENCRANTZ	Tell us where 'tis, that we may take it thence
	And bear it to the chapel.

HAMLET	Do not believe it.

ROSENCRANTZ	Believe what?

HAMLET	That I can keep your counsel and not mine own.
	Besides, to be demanded of a sponge! what
	replication should be made by the son of a king?

ROSENCRANTZ	Take you me for a sponge, my lord?

HAMLET	Ay, sir, that soaks up the king's countenance, his
	rewards, his authorities. But such officers do the
	king best service in the end: he keeps them, like
	an ape, in the corner of his jaw; first mouthed, to
	be last swallowed: when he needs what you have
	gleaned, it is but squeezing you, and, sponge, you
	shall be dry again.

ROSENCRANTZ	I understand you not, my lord.

HAMLET	I am glad of it: a knavish speech sleeps in a
	foolish ear.

ROSENCRANTZ	My lord, you must tell us where the body is, and go
	with us to the king.

HAMLET	The body is with the king, but the king is not with
	the body. The king is a thing--

GUILDENSTERN	A thing, my lord!

HAMLET	Of nothing: bring me to him. Hide fox, and all after.

	[Exeunt]




	HAMLET


ACT IV



SCENE III	Another room in the castle.


	[Enter KING CLAUDIUS, attended]

KING CLAUDIUS	I have sent to seek him, and to find the body.
	How dangerous is it that this man goes loose!
	Yet must not we put the strong law on him:
	He's loved of the distracted multitude,
	Who like not in their judgment, but their eyes;
	And where tis so, the offender's scourge is weigh'd,
	But never the offence. To bear all smooth and even,
	This sudden sending him away must seem
	Deliberate pause: diseases desperate grown
	By desperate appliance are relieved,
	Or not at all.

	[Enter ROSENCRANTZ]

	How now! what hath befall'n?

ROSENCRANTZ	Where the dead body is bestow'd, my lord,
	We cannot get from him.

KING CLAUDIUS	But where is he?

ROSENCRANTZ	Without, my lord; guarded, to know your pleasure.

KING CLAUDIUS	Bring him before us.

ROSENCRANTZ	Ho, Guildenstern! bring in my lord.

	[Enter HAMLET and GUILDENSTERN]

KING CLAUDIUS	Now, Hamlet, where's Polonius?

HAMLET	At supper.

KING CLAUDIUS	At supper! where?

HAMLET	Not where he eats, but where he is eaten: a certain
	convocation of politic worms are e'en at him. Your
	worm is your only emperor for diet: we fat all
	creatures else to fat us, and we fat ourselves for
	maggots: your fat king and your lean beggar is but
	variable service, two dishes, but to one table:
	that's the end.

KING CLAUDIUS	Alas, alas!

HAMLET	A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a
	king, and cat of the fish that hath fed of that worm.

KING CLAUDIUS	What dost you mean by this?

HAMLET	Nothing but to show you how a king may go a
	progress through the guts of a beggar.

KING CLAUDIUS	Where is Polonius?

HAMLET	In heaven; send hither to see: if your messenger
	find him not there, seek him i' the other place
	yourself. But indeed, if you find him not within
	this month, you shall nose him as you go up the
	stairs into the lobby.

KING CLAUDIUS	Go seek him there.

	[To some Attendants]

HAMLET	He will stay till ye come.

	[Exeunt Attendants]

KING CLAUDIUS	Hamlet, this deed, for thine especial safety,--
	Which we do tender, as we dearly grieve
	For that which thou hast done,--must send thee hence
	With fiery quickness: therefore prepare thyself;
	The bark is ready, and the wind at help,
	The associates tend, and every thing is bent
	For England.

HAMLET	                  For England!

KING CLAUDIUS	Ay, Hamlet.

HAMLET	Good.

KING CLAUDIUS	So is it, if thou knew'st our purposes.

HAMLET	I see a cherub that sees them. But, come; for
	England! Farewell, dear mother.

KING CLAUDIUS	Thy loving father, Hamlet.

HAMLET	My mother: father and mother is man and wife; man
	and wife is one flesh; and so, my mother. Come, for England!

	[Exit]

KING CLAUDIUS	Follow him at foot; tempt him with speed aboard;
	Delay it not; I'll have him hence to-night:
	Away! for every thing is seal'd and done
	That else leans on the affair: pray you, make haste.

	[Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN]

	And, England, if my love thou hold'st at aught--
	As my great power thereof may give thee sense,
	Since yet thy cicatrice looks raw and red
	After the Danish sword, and thy free awe
	Pays homage to us--thou mayst not coldly set
	Our sovereign process; which imports at full,
	By letters congruing to that effect,
	The present death of Hamlet. Do it, England;
	For like the hectic in my blood he rages,
	And thou must cure me: till I know 'tis done,
	Howe'er my haps, my joys were ne'er begun.

	[Exit]




	HAMLET


ACT IV



SCENE IV	A plain in Denmark.


	[Enter FORTINBRAS, a Captain, and Soldiers, marching]

PRINCE FORTINBRAS	Go, captain, from me greet the Danish king;
	Tell him that, by his licence, Fortinbras
	Craves the conveyance of a promised march
	Over his kingdom. You know the rendezvous.
	If that his majesty would aught with us,
	We shall express our duty in his eye;
	And let him know so.

Captain	I will do't, my lord.

PRINCE FORTINBRAS	Go softly on.

	[Exeunt FORTINBRAS and Soldiers]

	[Enter HAMLET, ROSENCRANTZ, GUILDENSTERN, and others]

HAMLET	Good sir, whose powers are these?

Captain	They are of Norway, sir.

HAMLET	How purposed, sir, I pray you?

Captain	Against some part of Poland.

HAMLET	Who commands them, sir?

Captain	The nephews to old Norway, Fortinbras.

HAMLET	Goes it against the main of Poland, sir,
	Or for some frontier?

Captain	Truly to speak, and with no addition,
	We go to gain a little patch of ground
	That hath in it no profit but the name.
	To pay five ducats, five, I would not farm it;
	Nor will it yield to Norway or the Pole
	A ranker rate, should it be sold in fee.

HAMLET	Why, then the Polack never will defend it.

Captain	Yes, it is already garrison'd.

HAMLET	Two thousand souls and twenty thousand ducats
	Will not debate the question of this straw:
	This is the imposthume of much wealth and peace,
	That inward breaks, and shows no cause without
	Why the man dies. I humbly thank you, sir.

Captain	God be wi' you, sir.

	[Exit]

ROSENCRANTZ	Wilt please you go, my lord?

HAMLET	I'll be with you straight go a little before.

	[Exeunt all except HAMLET]

	How all occasions do inform against me,
	And spur my dull revenge! What is a man,
	If his chief good and market of his time
	Be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more.
	Sure, he that made us with such large discourse,
	Looking before and after, gave us not
	That capability and god-like reason
	To fust in us unused. Now, whether it be
	Bestial oblivion, or some craven scruple
	Of thinking too precisely on the event,
	A thought which, quarter'd, hath but one part wisdom
	And ever three parts coward, I do not know
	Why yet I live to say 'This thing's to do;'
	Sith I have cause and will and strength and means
	To do't. Examples gross as earth exhort me:
	Witness this army of such mass and charge
	Led by a delicate and tender prince,
	Whose spirit with divine ambition puff'd
	Makes mouths at the invisible event,
	Exposing what is mortal and unsure
	To all that fortune, death and danger dare,
	Even for an egg-shell. Rightly to be great
	Is not to stir without great argument,
	But greatly to find quarrel in a straw
	When honour's at the stake. How stand I then,
	That have a father kill'd, a mother stain'd,
	Excitements of my reason and my blood,
	And let all sleep? while, to my shame, I see
	The imminent death of twenty thousand men,
	That, for a fantasy and trick of fame,
	Go to their graves like beds, fight for a plot
	Whereon the numbers cannot try the cause,
	Which is not tomb enough and continent
	To hide the slain? O, from this time forth,
	My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth!

	[Exit]




	HAMLET


ACT IV


SCENE V	Elsinore. A room in the castle.


	[Enter QUEEN GERTRUDE, HORATIO, and a Gentleman]

QUEEN GERTRUDE	I will not speak with her.

Gentleman	She is importunate, indeed distract:
	Her mood will needs be pitied.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	What would she have?

Gentleman	She speaks much of her father; says she hears
	There's tricks i' the world; and hems, and beats her heart;
	Spurns enviously at straws; speaks things in doubt,
	That carry but half sense: her speech is nothing,
	Yet the unshaped use of it doth move
	The hearers to collection; they aim at it,
	And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts;
	Which, as her winks, and nods, and gestures
	yield them,
	Indeed would make one think there might be thought,
	Though nothing sure, yet much unhappily.

HORATIO	'Twere good she were spoken with; for she may strew
	Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Let her come in.

	[Exit HORATIO]

	To my sick soul, as sin's true nature is,
	Each toy seems prologue to some great amiss:
	So full of artless jealousy is guilt,
	It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.

	[Re-enter HORATIO, with OPHELIA]

OPHELIA	Where is the beauteous majesty of Denmark?

QUEEN GERTRUDE	How now, Ophelia!

OPHELIA	[Sings]

	How should I your true love know
	From another one?
	By his cockle hat and staff,
	And his sandal shoon.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Alas, sweet lady, what imports this song?

OPHELIA	Say you? nay, pray you, mark.

	[Sings]

	He is dead and gone, lady,
	He is dead and gone;
	At his head a grass-green turf,
	At his heels a stone.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Nay, but, Ophelia,--

OPHELIA	Pray you, mark.

	[Sings]

	White his shroud as the mountain snow,--

	[Enter KING CLAUDIUS]

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Alas, look here, my lord.

OPHELIA	[Sings]

	Larded with sweet flowers
	Which bewept to the grave did go
	With true-love showers.

KING CLAUDIUS	How do you, pretty lady?

OPHELIA	Well, God 'ild you! They say the owl was a baker's
	daughter. Lord, we know what we are, but know not
	what we may be. God be at your table!

KING CLAUDIUS	Conceit upon her father.

OPHELIA	Pray you, let's have no words of this; but when they
	ask you what it means, say you this:

	[Sings]

	To-morrow is Saint Valentine's day,
	All in the morning betime,
	And I a maid at your window,
	To be your Valentine.
	Then up he rose, and donn'd his clothes,
	And dupp'd the chamber-door;
	Let in the maid, that out a maid
	Never departed more.

KING CLAUDIUS	Pretty Ophelia!

OPHELIA	Indeed, la, without an oath, I'll make an end on't:

	[Sings]

	By Gis and by Saint Charity,
	Alack, and fie for shame!
	Young men will do't, if they come to't;
	By cock, they are to blame.
	Quoth she, before you tumbled me,
	You promised me to wed.
	So would I ha' done, by yonder sun,
	An thou hadst not come to my bed.

KING CLAUDIUS	How long hath she been thus?

OPHELIA	I hope all will be well. We must be patient: but I
	cannot choose but weep, to think they should lay him
	i' the cold ground. My brother shall know of it:
	and so I thank you for your good counsel. Come, my
	coach! Good night, ladies; good night, sweet ladies;
	good night, good night.

	[Exit]

KING CLAUDIUS	Follow her close; give her good watch,
	I pray you.

	[Exit HORATIO]

	O, this is the poison of deep grief; it springs
	All from her father's death. O Gertrude, Gertrude,
	When sorrows come, they come not single spies
	But in battalions. First, her father slain:
	Next, your son gone; and he most violent author
	Of his own just remove: the people muddied,
	Thick and unwholesome in their thoughts and whispers,
	For good Polonius' death; and we have done but greenly,
	In hugger-mugger to inter him: poor Ophelia
	Divided from herself and her fair judgment,
	Without the which we are pictures, or mere beasts:
	Last, and as much containing as all these,
	Her brother is in secret come from France;
	Feeds on his wonder, keeps himself in clouds,
	And wants not buzzers to infect his ear
	With pestilent speeches of his father's death;
	Wherein necessity, of matter beggar'd,
	Will nothing stick our person to arraign
	In ear and ear. O my dear Gertrude, this,
	Like to a murdering-piece, in many places
	Gives me superfluous death.

	[A noise within]

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Alack, what noise is this?

KING CLAUDIUS	Where are my Switzers? Let them guard the door.

	[Enter another Gentleman]

	What is the matter?

Gentleman	Save yourself, my lord:
	The ocean, overpeering of his list,
	Eats not the flats with more impetuous haste
	Than young Laertes, in a riotous head,
	O'erbears your officers. The rabble call him lord;
	And, as the world were now but to begin,
	Antiquity forgot, custom not known,
	The ratifiers and props of every word,
	They cry 'Choose we: Laertes shall be king:'
	Caps, hands, and tongues, applaud it to the clouds:
	'Laertes shall be king, Laertes king!'

QUEEN GERTRUDE	How cheerfully on the false trail they cry!
	O, this is counter, you false Danish dogs!

KING CLAUDIUS	The doors are broke.

	[Noise within]

	[Enter LAERTES, armed; Danes following]

LAERTES	Where is this king? Sirs, stand you all without.

Danes	No, let's come in.

LAERTES	                  I pray you, give me leave.

Danes	We will, we will.

	[They retire without the door]

LAERTES	I thank you: keep the door. O thou vile king,
	Give me my father!

QUEEN GERTRUDE	                  Calmly, good Laertes.

LAERTES	That drop of blood that's calm proclaims me bastard,
	Cries cuckold to my father, brands the harlot
	Even here, between the chaste unsmirched brow
	Of my true mother.

KING CLAUDIUS	                  What is the cause, Laertes,
	That thy rebellion looks so giant-like?
	Let him go, Gertrude; do not fear our person:
	There's such divinity doth hedge a king,
	That treason can but peep to what it would,
	Acts little of his will. Tell me, Laertes,
	Why thou art thus incensed. Let him go, Gertrude.
	Speak, man.

LAERTES	Where is my father?

KING CLAUDIUS	Dead.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	But not by him.

KING CLAUDIUS	Let him demand his fill.

LAERTES	How came he dead? I'll not be juggled with:
	To hell, allegiance! vows, to the blackest devil!
	Conscience and grace, to the profoundest pit!
	I dare damnation. To this point I stand,
	That both the worlds I give to negligence,
	Let come what comes; only I'll be revenged
	Most thoroughly for my father.

KING CLAUDIUS	Who shall stay you?

LAERTES	My will, not all the world:
	And for my means, I'll husband them so well,
	They shall go far with little.

KING CLAUDIUS	Good Laertes,
	If you desire to know the certainty
	Of your dear father's death, is't writ in your revenge,
	That, swoopstake, you will draw both friend and foe,
	Winner and loser?

LAERTES	None but his enemies.

KING CLAUDIUS	Will you know them then?

LAERTES	To his good friends thus wide I'll ope my arms;
	And like the kind life-rendering pelican,
	Repast them with my blood.

KING CLAUDIUS	Why, now you speak
	Like a good child and a true gentleman.
	That I am guiltless of your father's death,
	And am most sensible in grief for it,
	It shall as level to your judgment pierce
	As day does to your eye.

Danes	[Within]                Let her come in.

LAERTES	How now! what noise is that?

	[Re-enter OPHELIA]

	O heat, dry up my brains! tears seven times salt,
	Burn out the sense and virtue of mine eye!
	By heaven, thy madness shall be paid by weight,
	Till our scale turn the beam. O rose of May!
	Dear maid, kind sister, sweet Ophelia!
	O heavens! is't possible, a young maid's wits
	Should be as moral as an old man's life?
	Nature is fine in love, and where 'tis fine,
	It sends some precious instance of itself
	After the thing it loves.

OPHELIA	[Sings]

	They bore him barefaced on the bier;
	Hey non nonny, nonny, hey nonny;
	And in his grave rain'd many a tear:--
	Fare you well, my dove!

LAERTES	Hadst thou thy wits, and didst persuade revenge,
	It could not move thus.

OPHELIA	[Sings]

	You must sing a-down a-down,
	An you call him a-down-a.
	O, how the wheel becomes it! It is the false
	steward, that stole his master's daughter.

LAERTES	This nothing's more than matter.

OPHELIA	There's rosemary, that's for remembrance; pray,
	love, remember: and there is pansies. that's for thoughts.

LAERTES	A document in madness, thoughts and remembrance fitted.

OPHELIA	There's fennel for you, and columbines: there's rue
	for you; and here's some for me: we may call it
	herb-grace o' Sundays: O you must wear your rue with
	a difference. There's a daisy: I would give you
	some violets, but they withered all when my father
	died: they say he made a good end,--

	[Sings]

	For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy.

LAERTES	Thought and affliction, passion, hell itself,
	She turns to favour and to prettiness.

OPHELIA	[Sings]

	And will he not come again?
	And will he not come again?
	No, no, he is dead:
	Go to thy death-bed:
	He never will come again.

	His beard was as white as snow,
	All flaxen was his poll:
	He is gone, he is gone,
	And we cast away moan:
	God ha' mercy on his soul!

	And of all Christian souls, I pray God. God be wi' ye.

	[Exit]

LAERTES	Do you see this, O God?

KING CLAUDIUS	Laertes, I must commune with your grief,
	Or you deny me right. Go but apart,
	Make choice of whom your wisest friends you will.
	And they shall hear and judge 'twixt you and me:
	If by direct or by collateral hand
	They find us touch'd, we will our kingdom give,
	Our crown, our life, and all that we can ours,
	To you in satisfaction; but if not,
	Be you content to lend your patience to us,
	And we shall jointly labour with your soul
	To give it due content.

LAERTES	Let this be so;
	His means of death, his obscure funeral--
	No trophy, sword, nor hatchment o'er his bones,
	No noble rite nor formal ostentation--
	Cry to be heard, as 'twere from heaven to earth,
	That I must call't in question.

KING CLAUDIUS	So you shall;
	And where the offence is let the great axe fall.
	I pray you, go with me.

	[Exeunt]




	HAMLET


ACT IV



SCENE VI	Another room in the castle.


	[Enter HORATIO and a Servant]

HORATIO	What are they that would speak with me?

Servant	Sailors, sir: they say they have letters for you.

HORATIO	Let them come in.

	[Exit Servant]

	I do not know from what part of the world
	I should be greeted, if not from Lord Hamlet.

	[Enter Sailors]

First Sailor	God bless you, sir.

HORATIO	Let him bless thee too.

First Sailor	He shall, sir, an't please him. There's a letter for
	you, sir; it comes from the ambassador that was
	bound for England; if your name be Horatio, as I am
	let to know it is.

HORATIO	[Reads]  'Horatio, when thou shalt have overlooked
	this, give these fellows some means to the king:
	they have letters for him. Ere we were two days old
	at sea, a pirate of very warlike appointment gave us
	chase. Finding ourselves too slow of sail, we put on
	a compelled valour, and in the grapple I boarded
	them: on the instant they got clear of our ship; so
	I alone became their prisoner. They have dealt with
	me like thieves of mercy: but they knew what they
	did; I am to do a good turn for them. Let the king
	have the letters I have sent; and repair thou to me
	with as much speed as thou wouldst fly death. I
	have words to speak in thine ear will make thee
	dumb; yet are they much too light for the bore of
	the matter. These good fellows will bring thee
	where I am. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern hold their
	course for England: of them I have much to tell
	thee. Farewell.
	'He that thou knowest thine, HAMLET.'
	Come, I will make you way for these your letters;
	And do't the speedier, that you may direct me
	To him from whom you brought them.

	[Exeunt]




	HAMLET


ACT IV


SCENE VII	Another room in the castle.


	[Enter KING CLAUDIUS and LAERTES]

KING CLAUDIUS	Now must your conscience my acquaintance seal,
	And you must put me in your heart for friend,
	Sith you have heard, and with a knowing ear,
	That he which hath your noble father slain
	Pursued my life.

LAERTES	                  It well appears: but tell me
	Why you proceeded not against these feats,
	So crimeful and so capital in nature,
	As by your safety, wisdom, all things else,
	You mainly were stirr'd up.

KING CLAUDIUS	O, for two special reasons;
	Which may to you, perhaps, seem much unsinew'd,
	But yet to me they are strong. The queen his mother
	Lives almost by his looks; and for myself--
	My virtue or my plague, be it either which--
	She's so conjunctive to my life and soul,
	That, as the star moves not but in his sphere,
	I could not but by her. The other motive,
	Why to a public count I might not go,
	Is the great love the general gender bear him;
	Who, dipping all his faults in their affection,
	Would, like the spring that turneth wood to stone,
	Convert his gyves to graces; so that my arrows,
	Too slightly timber'd for so loud a wind,
	Would have reverted to my bow again,
	And not where I had aim'd them.

LAERTES	And so have I a noble father lost;
	A sister driven into desperate terms,
	Whose worth, if praises may go back again,
	Stood challenger on mount of all the age
	For her perfections: but my revenge will come.

KING CLAUDIUS	Break not your sleeps for that: you must not think
	That we are made of stuff so flat and dull
	That we can let our beard be shook with danger
	And think it pastime. You shortly shall hear more:
	I loved your father, and we love ourself;
	And that, I hope, will teach you to imagine--

	[Enter a Messenger]

	How now! what news?

Messenger	Letters, my lord, from Hamlet:
	This to your majesty; this to the queen.

KING CLAUDIUS	From Hamlet! who brought them?

Messenger	Sailors, my lord, they say; I saw them not:
	They were given me by Claudio; he received them
	Of him that brought them.

KING CLAUDIUS	Laertes, you shall hear them. Leave us.

	[Exit Messenger]

	[Reads]

	'High and mighty, You shall know I am set naked on
	your kingdom. To-morrow shall I beg leave to see
	your kingly eyes: when I shall, first asking your
	pardon thereunto, recount the occasion of my sudden
	and more strange return.                  'HAMLET.'
	What should this mean? Are all the rest come back?
	Or is it some abuse, and no such thing?

LAERTES	Know you the hand?

KING CLAUDIUS	'Tis Hamlets character. 'Naked!
	And in a postscript here, he says 'alone.'
	Can you advise me?

LAERTES	I'm lost in it, my lord. But let him come;
	It warms the very sickness in my heart,
	That I shall live and tell him to his teeth,
	'Thus didest thou.'

KING CLAUDIUS	If it be so, Laertes--
	As how should it be so? how otherwise?--
	Will you be ruled by me?

LAERTES	Ay, my lord;
	So you will not o'errule me to a peace.

KING CLAUDIUS	To thine own peace. If he be now return'd,
	As checking at his voyage, and that he means
	No more to undertake it, I will work him
	To an exploit, now ripe in my device,
	Under the which he shall not choose but fall:
	And for his death no wind of blame shall breathe,
	But even his mother shall uncharge the practise
	And call it accident.

LAERTES	My lord, I will be ruled;
	The rather, if you could devise it so
	That I might be the organ.

KING CLAUDIUS	It falls right.
	You have been talk'd of since your travel much,
	And that in Hamlet's hearing, for a quality
	Wherein, they say, you shine: your sum of parts
	Did not together pluck such envy from him
	As did that one, and that, in my regard,
	Of the unworthiest siege.

LAERTES	What part is that, my lord?

KING CLAUDIUS	A very riband in the cap of youth,
	Yet needful too; for youth no less becomes
	The light and careless livery that it wears
	Than settled age his sables and his weeds,
	Importing health and graveness. Two months since,
	Here was a gentleman of Normandy:--
	I've seen myself, and served against, the French,
	And they can well on horseback: but this gallant
	Had witchcraft in't; he grew unto his seat;
	And to such wondrous doing brought his horse,
	As he had been incorpsed and demi-natured
	With the brave beast: so far he topp'd my thought,
	That I, in forgery of shapes and tricks,
	Come short of what he did.

LAERTES	A Norman was't?

KING CLAUDIUS	A Norman.

LAERTES	Upon my life, Lamond.

KING CLAUDIUS	The very same.

LAERTES	I know him well: he is the brooch indeed
	And gem of all the nation.

KING CLAUDIUS	He made confession of you,
	And gave you such a masterly report
	For art and exercise in your defence
	And for your rapier most especially,
	That he cried out, 'twould be a sight indeed,
	If one could match you: the scrimers of their nation,
	He swore, had had neither motion, guard, nor eye,
	If you opposed them. Sir, this report of his
	Did Hamlet so envenom with his envy
	That he could nothing do but wish and beg
	Your sudden coming o'er, to play with him.
	Now, out of this,--

LAERTES	What out of this, my lord?

KING CLAUDIUS	Laertes, was your father dear to you?
	Or are you like the painting of a sorrow,
	A face without a heart?

LAERTES	Why ask you this?

KING CLAUDIUS	Not that I think you did not love your father;
	But that I know love is begun by time;
	And that I see, in passages of proof,
	Time qualifies the spark and fire of it.
	There lives within the very flame of love
	A kind of wick or snuff that will abate it;
	And nothing is at a like goodness still;
	For goodness, growing to a plurisy,
	Dies in his own too much: that we would do
	We should do when we would; for this 'would' changes
	And hath abatements and delays as many
	As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents;
	And then this 'should' is like a spendthrift sigh,
	That hurts by easing. But, to the quick o' the ulcer:--
	Hamlet comes back: what would you undertake,
	To show yourself your father's son in deed
	More than in words?

LAERTES	To cut his throat i' the church.

KING CLAUDIUS	No place, indeed, should murder sanctuarize;
	Revenge should have no bounds. But, good Laertes,
	Will you do this, keep close within your chamber.
	Hamlet return'd shall know you are come home:
	We'll put on those shall praise your excellence
	And set a double varnish on the fame
	The Frenchman gave you, bring you in fine together
	And wager on your heads: he, being remiss,
	Most generous and free from all contriving,
	Will not peruse the foils; so that, with ease,
	Or with a little shuffling, you may choose
	A sword unbated, and in a pass of practise
	Requite him for your father.

LAERTES	I will do't:
	And, for that purpose, I'll anoint my sword.
	I bought an unction of a mountebank,
	So mortal that, but dip a knife in it,
	Where it draws blood no cataplasm so rare,
	Collected from all simples that have virtue
	Under the moon, can save the thing from death
	That is but scratch'd withal: I'll touch my point
	With this contagion, that, if I gall him slightly,
	It may be death.

KING CLAUDIUS	                  Let's further think of this;
	Weigh what convenience both of time and means
	May fit us to our shape: if this should fail,
	And that our drift look through our bad performance,
	'Twere better not assay'd: therefore this project
	Should have a back or second, that might hold,
	If this should blast in proof. Soft! let me see:
	We'll make a solemn wager on your cunnings: I ha't.
	When in your motion you are hot and dry--
	As make your bouts more violent to that end--
	And that he calls for drink, I'll have prepared him
	A chalice for the nonce, whereon but sipping,
	If he by chance escape your venom'd stuck,
	Our purpose may hold there.

	[Enter QUEEN GERTRUDE]

		      How now, sweet queen!

QUEEN GERTRUDE	One woe doth tread upon another's heel,
	So fast they follow; your sister's drown'd, Laertes.

LAERTES	Drown'd! O, where?

QUEEN GERTRUDE	There is a willow grows aslant a brook,
	That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream;
	There with fantastic garlands did she come
	Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples
	That liberal shepherds give a grosser name,
	But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them:
	There, on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds
	Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke;
	When down her weedy trophies and herself
	Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide;
	And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up:
	Which time she chanted snatches of old tunes;
	As one incapable of her own distress,
	Or like a creature native and indued
	Unto that element: but long it could not be
	Till that her garments, heavy with their drink,
	Pull'd the poor wretch from her melodious lay
	To muddy death.

LAERTES	                  Alas, then, she is drown'd?

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Drown'd, drown'd.

LAERTES	Too much of water hast thou, poor Ophelia,
	And therefore I forbid my tears: but yet
	It is our trick; nature her custom holds,
	Let shame say what it will: when these are gone,
	The woman will be out. Adieu, my lord:
	I have a speech of fire, that fain would blaze,
	But that this folly douts it.

	[Exit]

KING CLAUDIUS	Let's follow, Gertrude:
	How much I had to do to calm his rage!
	Now fear I this will give it start again;
	Therefore let's follow.

	[Exeunt]




	HAMLET


ACT V



SCENE I	A churchyard.


	[Enter two Clowns, with spades, &c]

First Clown	Is she to be buried in Christian burial that
	wilfully seeks her own salvation?

Second Clown	I tell thee she is: and therefore make her grave
	straight: the crowner hath sat on her, and finds it
	Christian burial.

First Clown	How can that be, unless she drowned herself in her
	own defence?

Second Clown	Why, 'tis found so.

First Clown	It must be 'se offendendo;' it cannot be else. For
	here lies the point:  if I drown myself wittingly,
	it argues an act: and an act hath three branches: it
	is, to act, to do, to perform: argal, she drowned
	herself wittingly.

Second Clown	Nay, but hear you, goodman delver,--

First Clown	Give me leave. Here lies the water; good: here
	stands the man; good; if the man go to this water,
	and drown himself, it is, will he, nill he, he
	goes,--mark you that; but if the water come to him
	and drown him, he drowns not himself: argal, he
	that is not guilty of his own death shortens not his own life.

Second Clown	But is this law?

First Clown	Ay, marry, is't; crowner's quest law.

Second Clown	Will you ha' the truth on't? If this had not been
	a gentlewoman, she should have been buried out o'
	Christian burial.

First Clown	Why, there thou say'st: and the more pity that
	great folk should have countenance in this world to
	drown or hang themselves, more than their even
	Christian. Come, my spade. There is no ancient
	gentleman but gardeners, ditchers, and grave-makers:
	they hold up Adam's profession.

Second Clown	Was he a gentleman?

First Clown	He was the first that ever bore arms.

Second Clown	Why, he had none.

First Clown	What, art a heathen? How dost thou understand the
	Scripture? The Scripture says 'Adam digged:'
	could he dig without arms? I'll put another
	question to thee: if thou answerest me not to the
	purpose, confess thyself--

Second Clown	Go to.

First Clown	What is he that builds stronger than either the
	mason, the shipwright, or the carpenter?

Second Clown	The gallows-maker; for that frame outlives a
	thousand tenants.

First Clown	I like thy wit well, in good faith: the gallows
	does well; but how does it well? it does well to
	those that do in: now thou dost ill to say the
	gallows is built stronger than the church: argal,
	the gallows may do well to thee. To't again, come.

Second Clown	'Who builds stronger than a mason, a shipwright, or
	a carpenter?'

First Clown	Ay, tell me that, and unyoke.

Second Clown	Marry, now I can tell.

First Clown	To't.

Second Clown	Mass, I cannot tell.

	[Enter HAMLET and HORATIO, at a distance]

First Clown	Cudgel thy brains no more about it, for your dull
	ass will not mend his pace with beating; and, when
	you are asked this question next, say 'a
	grave-maker: 'the houses that he makes last till
	doomsday. Go, get thee to Yaughan: fetch me a
	stoup of liquor.

	[Exit Second Clown]

	[He digs and sings]

	In youth, when I did love, did love,
	Methought it was very sweet,
	To contract, O, the time, for, ah, my behove,
	O, methought, there was nothing meet.

HAMLET	Has this fellow no feeling of his business, that he
	sings at grave-making?

HORATIO	Custom hath made it in him a property of easiness.

HAMLET	'Tis e'en so: the hand of little employment hath
	the daintier sense.

First Clown	[Sings]

	But age, with his stealing steps,
	Hath claw'd me in his clutch,
	And hath shipped me intil the land,
	As if I had never been such.

	[Throws up a skull]

HAMLET	That skull had a tongue in it, and could sing once:
	how the knave jowls it to the ground, as if it were
	Cain's jaw-bone, that did the first murder! It
	might be the pate of a politician, which this ass
	now o'er-reaches; one that would circumvent God,
	might it not?

HORATIO	It might, my lord.

HAMLET	Or of a courtier; which could say 'Good morrow,
	sweet lord! How dost thou, good lord?' This might
	be my lord such-a-one, that praised my lord
	such-a-one's horse, when he meant to beg it; might it not?

HORATIO	Ay, my lord.

HAMLET	Why, e'en so: and now my Lady Worm's; chapless, and
	knocked about the mazzard with a sexton's spade:
	here's fine revolution, an we had the trick to
	see't. Did these bones cost no more the breeding,
	but to play at loggats with 'em? mine ache to think on't.

First Clown: [Sings]

	A pick-axe, and a spade, a spade,
	For and a shrouding sheet:
	O, a pit of clay for to be made
	For such a guest is meet.

	[Throws up another skull]

HAMLET	There's another: why may not that be the skull of a
	lawyer? Where be his quiddities now, his quillets,
	his cases, his tenures, and his tricks? why does he
	suffer this rude knave now to knock him about the
	sconce with a dirty shovel, and will not tell him of
	his action of battery? Hum! This fellow might be
	in's time a great buyer of land, with his statutes,
	his recognizances, his fines, his double vouchers,
	his recoveries: is this the fine of his fines, and
	the recovery of his recoveries, to have his fine
	pate full of fine dirt? will his vouchers vouch him
	no more of his purchases, and double ones too, than
	the length and breadth of a pair of indentures? The
	very conveyances of his lands will hardly lie in
	this box; and must the inheritor himself have no more, ha?

HORATIO	Not a jot more, my lord.

HAMLET	Is not parchment made of sheepskins?

HORATIO	Ay, my lord, and of calf-skins too.

HAMLET	They are sheep and calves which seek out assurance
	in that. I will speak to this fellow. Whose
	grave's this, sirrah?

First Clown	Mine, sir.

	[Sings]

	O, a pit of clay for to be made
	For such a guest is meet.

HAMLET	I think it be thine, indeed; for thou liest in't.

First Clown	You lie out on't, sir, and therefore it is not
	yours: for my part, I do not lie in't, and yet it is mine.

HAMLET	'Thou dost lie in't, to be in't and say it is thine:
	'tis for the dead, not for the quick; therefore thou liest.

First Clown	'Tis a quick lie, sir; 'twill away gain, from me to
	you.

HAMLET	What man dost thou dig it for?

First Clown	For no man, sir.

HAMLET	What woman, then?

First Clown	For none, neither.

HAMLET	Who is to be buried in't?

First Clown	One that was a woman, sir; but, rest her soul, she's dead.

HAMLET	How absolute the knave is! we must speak by the
	card, or equivocation will undo us. By the Lord,
	Horatio, these three years I have taken a note of
	it; the age is grown so picked that the toe of the
	peasant comes so near the heel of the courtier, he
	gaffs his kibe. How long hast thou been a
	grave-maker?

First Clown	Of all the days i' the year, I came to't that day
	that our last king Hamlet overcame Fortinbras.

HAMLET	How long is that since?

First Clown	Cannot you tell that? every fool can tell that: it
	was the very day that young Hamlet was born; he that
	is mad, and sent into England.

HAMLET	Ay, marry, why was he sent into England?

First Clown	Why, because he was mad: he shall recover his wits
	there; or, if he do not, it's no great matter there.

HAMLET	Why?

First Clown	'Twill, a not be seen in him there; there the men
	are as mad as he.

HAMLET	How came he mad?

First Clown	Very strangely, they say.

HAMLET	How strangely?

First Clown	Faith, e'en with losing his wits.

HAMLET	Upon what ground?

First Clown	Why, here in Denmark: I have been sexton here, man
	and boy, thirty years.

HAMLET	How long will a man lie i' the earth ere he rot?

First Clown	I' faith, if he be not rotten before he die--as we
	have many pocky corses now-a-days, that will scarce
	hold the laying in--he will last you some eight year
	or nine year: a tanner will last you nine year.

HAMLET	Why he more than another?

First Clown	Why, sir, his hide is so tanned with his trade, that
	he will keep out water a great while; and your water
	is a sore decayer of your whoreson dead body.
	Here's a skull now; this skull has lain in the earth
	three and twenty years.

HAMLET	Whose was it?

First Clown	A whoreson mad fellow's it was: whose do you think it was?

HAMLET	Nay, I know not.

First Clown	A pestilence on him for a mad rogue! a' poured a
	flagon of Rhenish on my head once. This same skull,
	sir, was Yorick's skull, the king's jester.

HAMLET	This?

First Clown	E'en that.

HAMLET	Let me see.

	[Takes the skull]

	Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow
	of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath
	borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how
	abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rims at
	it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know
	not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your
	gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment,
	that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one
	now, to mock your own grinning? quite chap-fallen?
	Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let
	her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must
	come; make her laugh at that. Prithee, Horatio, tell
	me one thing.

HORATIO	What's that, my lord?

HAMLET	Dost thou think Alexander looked o' this fashion i'
	the earth?

HORATIO	E'en so.

HAMLET	And smelt so? pah!

	[Puts down the skull]

HORATIO	E'en so, my lord.

HAMLET	To what base uses we may return, Horatio! Why may
	not imagination trace the noble dust of Alexander,
	till he find it stopping a bung-hole?

HORATIO	'Twere to consider too curiously, to consider so.

HAMLET	No, faith, not a jot; but to follow him thither with
	modesty enough, and likelihood to lead it: as
	thus: Alexander died, Alexander was buried,
	Alexander returneth into dust; the dust is earth; of
	earth we make loam; and why of that loam, whereto he
	was converted, might they not stop a beer-barrel?
	Imperious Caesar, dead and turn'd to clay,
	Might stop a hole to keep the wind away:
	O, that that earth, which kept the world in awe,
	Should patch a wall to expel the winter flaw!
	But soft! but soft! aside: here comes the king.

	[Enter Priest, &c. in procession; the Corpse of
	OPHELIA, LAERTES and Mourners following; KING
	CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, their trains, &c]

	The queen, the courtiers: who is this they follow?
	And with such maimed rites? This doth betoken
	The corse they follow did with desperate hand
	Fordo its own life: 'twas of some estate.
	Couch we awhile, and mark.

	[Retiring with HORATIO]

LAERTES	What ceremony else?

HAMLET	That is Laertes,
	A very noble youth: mark.

LAERTES	What ceremony else?

First Priest	Her obsequies have been as far enlarged
	As we have warrantise: her death was doubtful;
	And, but that great command o'ersways the order,
	She should in ground unsanctified have lodged
	Till the last trumpet: for charitable prayers,
	Shards, flints and pebbles should be thrown on her;
	Yet here she is allow'd her virgin crants,
	Her maiden strewments and the bringing home
	Of bell and burial.

LAERTES	Must there no more be done?

First Priest	No more be done:
	We should profane the service of the dead
	To sing a requiem and such rest to her
	As to peace-parted souls.

LAERTES	Lay her i' the earth:
	And from her fair and unpolluted flesh
	May violets spring! I tell thee, churlish priest,
	A ministering angel shall my sister be,
	When thou liest howling.

HAMLET	What, the fair Ophelia!

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Sweets to the sweet: farewell!

	[Scattering flowers]

	I hoped thou shouldst have been my Hamlet's wife;
	I thought thy bride-bed to have deck'd, sweet maid,
	And not have strew'd thy grave.

LAERTES	O, treble woe
	Fall ten times treble on that cursed head,
	Whose wicked deed thy most ingenious sense
	Deprived thee of! Hold off the earth awhile,
	Till I have caught her once more in mine arms:

	[Leaps into the grave]

	Now pile your dust upon the quick and dead,
	Till of this flat a mountain you have made,
	To o'ertop old Pelion, or the skyish head
	Of blue Olympus.

HAMLET	[Advancing]     What is he whose grief
	Bears such an emphasis? whose phrase of sorrow
	Conjures the wandering stars, and makes them stand
	Like wonder-wounded hearers? This is I,
	Hamlet the Dane.

	[Leaps into the grave]

LAERTES	                  The devil take thy soul!

	[Grappling with him]

HAMLET	Thou pray'st not well.
	I prithee, take thy fingers from my throat;
	For, though I am not splenitive and rash,
	Yet have I something in me dangerous,
	Which let thy wiseness fear: hold off thy hand.

KING CLAUDIUS	Pluck them asunder.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Hamlet, Hamlet!

All	Gentlemen,--

HORATIO	                  Good my lord, be quiet.

	[The Attendants part them, and they come out of the grave]

HAMLET	Why I will fight with him upon this theme
	Until my eyelids will no longer wag.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	O my son, what theme?

HAMLET	I loved Ophelia: forty thousand brothers
	Could not, with all their quantity of love,
	Make up my sum. What wilt thou do for her?

KING CLAUDIUS	O, he is mad, Laertes.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	For love of God, forbear him.

HAMLET	'Swounds, show me what thou'lt do:
	Woo't weep? woo't fight? woo't fast? woo't tear thyself?
	Woo't drink up eisel? eat a crocodile?
	I'll do't. Dost thou come here to whine?
	To outface me with leaping in her grave?
	Be buried quick with her, and so will I:
	And, if thou prate of mountains, let them throw
	Millions of acres on us, till our ground,
	Singeing his pate against the burning zone,
	Make Ossa like a wart! Nay, an thou'lt mouth,
	I'll rant as well as thou.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	This is mere madness:
	And thus awhile the fit will work on him;
	Anon, as patient as the female dove,
	When that her golden couplets are disclosed,
	His silence will sit drooping.

HAMLET	Hear you, sir;
	What is the reason that you use me thus?
	I loved you ever: but it is no matter;
	Let Hercules himself do what he may,
	The cat will mew and dog will have his day.

	[Exit]

KING CLAUDIUS	I pray you, good Horatio, wait upon him.

	[Exit HORATIO]

	[To LAERTES]

	Strengthen your patience in our last night's speech;
	We'll put the matter to the present push.
	Good Gertrude, set some watch over your son.
	This grave shall have a living monument:
	An hour of quiet shortly shall we see;
	Till then, in patience our proceeding be.

	[Exeunt]



	HAMLET


ACT V



SCENE II	A hall in the castle.


	[Enter HAMLET and HORATIO]

HAMLET	So much for this, sir: now shall you see the other;
	You do remember all the circumstance?

HORATIO	Remember it, my lord?

HAMLET	Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting,
	That would not let me sleep: methought I lay
	Worse than the mutines in the bilboes. Rashly,
	And praised be rashness for it, let us know,
	Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well,
	When our deep plots do pall: and that should teach us
	There's a divinity that shapes our ends,
	Rough-hew them how we will,--

HORATIO	That is most certain.

HAMLET	Up from my cabin,
	My sea-gown scarf'd about me, in the dark
	Groped I to find out them; had my desire.
	Finger'd their packet, and in fine withdrew
	To mine own room again; making so bold,
	My fears forgetting manners, to unseal
	Their grand commission; where I found, Horatio,--
	O royal knavery!--an exact command,
	Larded with many several sorts of reasons
	Importing Denmark's health and England's too,
	With, ho! such bugs and goblins in my life,
	That, on the supervise, no leisure bated,
	No, not to stay the grinding of the axe,
	My head should be struck off.

HORATIO	Is't possible?

HAMLET	Here's the commission: read it at more leisure.
	But wilt thou hear me how I did proceed?

HORATIO	I beseech you.

HAMLET	Being thus be-netted round with villanies,--
	Ere I could make a prologue to my brains,
	They had begun the play--I sat me down,
	Devised a new commission, wrote it fair:
	I once did hold it, as our statists do,
	A baseness to write fair and labour'd much
	How to forget that learning, but, sir, now
	It did me yeoman's service: wilt thou know
	The effect of what I wrote?

HORATIO	Ay, good my lord.

HAMLET	An earnest conjuration from the king,
	As England was his faithful tributary,
	As love between them like the palm might flourish,
	As peace should stiff her wheaten garland wear
	And stand a comma 'tween their amities,
	And many such-like 'As'es of great charge,
	That, on the view and knowing of these contents,
	Without debatement further, more or less,
	He should the bearers put to sudden death,
	Not shriving-time allow'd.

HORATIO	How was this seal'd?

HAMLET	Why, even in that was heaven ordinant.
	I had my father's signet in my purse,
	Which was the model of that Danish seal;
	Folded the writ up in form of the other,
	Subscribed it, gave't the impression, placed it safely,
	The changeling never known. Now, the next day
	Was our sea-fight; and what to this was sequent
	Thou know'st already.

HORATIO	So Guildenstern and Rosencrantz go to't.

HAMLET	Why, man, they did make love to this employment;
	They are not near my conscience; their defeat
	Does by their own insinuation grow:
	'Tis dangerous when the baser nature comes
	Between the pass and fell incensed points
	Of mighty opposites.

HORATIO	Why, what a king is this!

HAMLET	Does it not, think'st thee, stand me now upon--
	He that hath kill'd my king and whored my mother,
	Popp'd in between the election and my hopes,
	Thrown out his angle for my proper life,
	And with such cozenage--is't not perfect conscience,
	To quit him with this arm? and is't not to be damn'd,
	To let this canker of our nature come
	In further evil?

HORATIO	It must be shortly known to him from England
	What is the issue of the business there.

HAMLET	It will be short: the interim is mine;
	And a man's life's no more than to say 'One.'
	But I am very sorry, good Horatio,
	That to Laertes I forgot myself;
	For, by the image of my cause, I see
	The portraiture of his: I'll court his favours.
	But, sure, the bravery of his grief did put me
	Into a towering passion.

HORATIO	Peace! who comes here?

	[Enter OSRIC]

OSRIC	Your lordship is right welcome back to Denmark.

HAMLET	I humbly thank you, sir. Dost know this water-fly?

HORATIO	No, my good lord.

HAMLET	Thy state is the more gracious; for 'tis a vice to
	know him. He hath much land, and fertile: let a
	beast be lord of beasts, and his crib shall stand at
	the king's mess: 'tis a chough; but, as I say,
	spacious in the possession of dirt.

OSRIC	Sweet lord, if your lordship were at leisure, I
	should impart a thing to you from his majesty.

HAMLET	I will receive it, sir, with all diligence of
	spirit. Put your bonnet to his right use; 'tis for the head.

OSRIC	I thank your lordship, it is very hot.

HAMLET	No, believe me, 'tis very cold; the wind is
	northerly.

OSRIC	It is indifferent cold, my lord, indeed.

HAMLET	But yet methinks it is very sultry and hot for my
	complexion.

OSRIC	Exceedingly, my lord; it is very sultry,--as
	'twere,--I cannot tell how. But, my lord, his
	majesty bade me signify to you that he has laid a
	great wager on your head: sir, this is the matter,--

HAMLET	I beseech you, remember--

	[HAMLET moves him to put on his hat]

OSRIC	Nay, good my lord; for mine ease, in good faith.
	Sir, here is newly come to court Laertes; believe
	me, an absolute gentleman, full of most excellent
	differences, of very soft society and great showing:
	indeed, to speak feelingly of him, he is the card or
	calendar of gentry, for you shall find in him the
	continent of what part a gentleman would see.

HAMLET	Sir, his definement suffers no perdition in you;
	though, I know, to divide him inventorially would
	dizzy the arithmetic of memory, and yet but yaw
	neither, in respect of his quick sail. But, in the
	verity of extolment, I take him to be a soul of
	great article; and his infusion of such dearth and
	rareness, as, to make true diction of him, his
	semblable is his mirror; and who else would trace
	him, his umbrage, nothing more.

OSRIC	Your lordship speaks most infallibly of him.

HAMLET	The concernancy, sir? why do we wrap the gentleman
	in our more rawer breath?

OSRIC	Sir?

HORATIO	Is't not possible to understand in another tongue?
	You will do't, sir, really.

HAMLET	What imports the nomination of this gentleman?

OSRIC	Of Laertes?

HORATIO	His purse is empty already; all's golden words are spent.

HAMLET	Of him, sir.

OSRIC	I know you are not ignorant--

HAMLET	I would you did, sir; yet, in faith, if you did,
	it would not much approve me. Well, sir?

OSRIC	You are not ignorant of what excellence Laertes is--

HAMLET	I dare not confess that, lest I should compare with
	him in excellence; but, to know a man well, were to
	know himself.

OSRIC	I mean, sir, for his weapon; but in the imputation
	laid on him by them, in his meed he's unfellowed.

HAMLET	What's his weapon?

OSRIC	Rapier and dagger.

HAMLET	That's two of his weapons: but, well.

OSRIC	The king, sir, hath wagered with him six Barbary
	horses: against the which he has imponed, as I take
	it, six French rapiers and poniards, with their
	assigns, as girdle, hangers, and so: three of the
	carriages, in faith, are very dear to fancy, very
	responsive to the hilts, most delicate carriages,
	and of very liberal conceit.

HAMLET	What call you the carriages?

HORATIO	I knew you must be edified by the margent ere you had done.

OSRIC	The carriages, sir, are the hangers.

HAMLET	The phrase would be more german to the matter, if we
	could carry cannon by our sides: I would it might
	be hangers till then. But, on: six Barbary horses
	against six French swords, their assigns, and three
	liberal-conceited carriages; that's the French bet
	against the Danish. Why is this 'imponed,' as you call it?

OSRIC	The king, sir, hath laid, that in a dozen passes
	between yourself and him, he shall not exceed you
	three hits: he hath laid on twelve for nine; and it
	would come to immediate trial, if your lordship
	would vouchsafe the answer.

HAMLET	How if I answer 'no'?

OSRIC	I mean, my lord, the opposition of your person in trial.

HAMLET	Sir, I will walk here in the hall: if it please his
	majesty, 'tis the breathing time of day with me; let
	the foils be brought, the gentleman willing, and the
	king hold his purpose, I will win for him an I can;
	if not, I will gain nothing but my shame and the odd hits.

OSRIC	Shall I re-deliver you e'en so?

HAMLET	To this effect, sir; after what flourish your nature will.

OSRIC	I commend my duty to your lordship.

HAMLET	Yours, yours.

	[Exit OSRIC]

	He does well to commend it himself; there are no
	tongues else for's turn.

HORATIO	This lapwing runs away with the shell on his head.

HAMLET	He did comply with his dug, before he sucked it.
	Thus has he--and many more of the same bevy that I
	know the dressy age dotes on--only got the tune of
	the time and outward habit of encounter; a kind of
	yesty collection, which carries them through and
	through the most fond and winnowed opinions; and do
	but blow them to their trial, the bubbles are out.

	[Enter a Lord]

Lord	My lord, his majesty commended him to you by young
	Osric, who brings back to him that you attend him in
	the hall: he sends to know if your pleasure hold to
	play with Laertes, or that you will take longer time.

HAMLET	I am constant to my purpose; they follow the king's
	pleasure: if his fitness speaks, mine is ready; now
	or whensoever, provided I be so able as now.

Lord	The king and queen and all are coming down.

HAMLET	In happy time.

Lord	The queen desires you to use some gentle
	entertainment to Laertes before you fall to play.

HAMLET	She well instructs me.

	[Exit Lord]

HORATIO	You will lose this wager, my lord.

HAMLET	I do not think so: since he went into France, I
	have been in continual practise: I shall win at the
	odds. But thou wouldst not think how ill all's here
	about my heart: but it is no matter.

HORATIO	Nay, good my lord,--

HAMLET	It is but foolery; but it is such a kind of
	gain-giving, as would perhaps trouble a woman.

HORATIO	If your mind dislike any thing, obey it: I will
	forestall their repair hither, and say you are not
	fit.

HAMLET	Not a whit, we defy augury: there's a special
	providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now,
	'tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be
	now; if it be not now, yet it will come: the
	readiness is all: since no man has aught of what he
	leaves, what is't to leave betimes?

	[Enter KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, LAERTES,
	Lords, OSRIC, and Attendants with foils, &c]

KING CLAUDIUS	Come, Hamlet, come, and take this hand from me.

	[KING CLAUDIUS puts LAERTES' hand into HAMLET's]

HAMLET	Give me your pardon, sir: I've done you wrong;
	But pardon't, as you are a gentleman.
	This presence knows,
	And you must needs have heard, how I am punish'd
	With sore distraction. What I have done,
	That might your nature, honour and exception
	Roughly awake, I here proclaim was madness.
	Was't Hamlet wrong'd Laertes? Never Hamlet:
	If Hamlet from himself be ta'en away,
	And when he's not himself does wrong Laertes,
	Then Hamlet does it not, Hamlet denies it.
	Who does it, then? His madness: if't be so,
	Hamlet is of the faction that is wrong'd;
	His madness is poor Hamlet's enemy.
	Sir, in this audience,
	Let my disclaiming from a purposed evil
	Free me so far in your most generous thoughts,
	That I have shot mine arrow o'er the house,
	And hurt my brother.

LAERTES	I am satisfied in nature,
	Whose motive, in this case, should stir me most
	To my revenge: but in my terms of honour
	I stand aloof; and will no reconcilement,
	Till by some elder masters, of known honour,
	I have a voice and precedent of peace,
	To keep my name ungored. But till that time,
	I do receive your offer'd love like love,
	And will not wrong it.

HAMLET	I embrace it freely;
	And will this brother's wager frankly play.
	Give us the foils. Come on.

LAERTES	Come, one for me.

HAMLET	I'll be your foil, Laertes: in mine ignorance
	Your skill shall, like a star i' the darkest night,
	Stick fiery off indeed.

LAERTES	You mock me, sir.

HAMLET	No, by this hand.

KING CLAUDIUS	Give them the foils, young Osric. Cousin Hamlet,
	You know the wager?

HAMLET	Very well, my lord
	Your grace hath laid the odds o' the weaker side.

KING CLAUDIUS	I do not fear it; I have seen you both:
	But since he is better'd, we have therefore odds.

LAERTES	This is too heavy, let me see another.

HAMLET	This likes me well. These foils have all a length?

	[They prepare to play]

OSRIC	Ay, my good lord.

KING CLAUDIUS	Set me the stoops of wine upon that table.
	If Hamlet give the first or second hit,
	Or quit in answer of the third exchange,
	Let all the battlements their ordnance fire:
	The king shall drink to Hamlet's better breath;
	And in the cup an union shall he throw,
	Richer than that which four successive kings
	In Denmark's crown have worn. Give me the cups;
	And let the kettle to the trumpet speak,
	The trumpet to the cannoneer without,
	The cannons to the heavens, the heavens to earth,
	'Now the king dunks to Hamlet.' Come, begin:
	And you, the judges, bear a wary eye.

HAMLET	Come on, sir.

LAERTES	                  Come, my lord.

	[They play]

HAMLET	One.

LAERTES	No.

HAMLET	Judgment.

OSRIC	A hit, a very palpable hit.

LAERTES	Well; again.

KING CLAUDIUS	Stay; give me drink. Hamlet, this pearl is thine;
	Here's to thy health.

	[Trumpets sound, and cannon shot off within]

		Give him the cup.

HAMLET	I'll play this bout first; set it by awhile. Come.

	[They play]

	Another hit; what say you?

LAERTES	A touch, a touch, I do confess.

KING CLAUDIUS	Our son shall win.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	                  He's fat, and scant of breath.
	Here, Hamlet, take my napkin, rub thy brows;
	The queen carouses to thy fortune, Hamlet.

HAMLET	Good madam!

KING CLAUDIUS	          Gertrude, do not drink.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	I will, my lord; I pray you, pardon me.

KING CLAUDIUS	[Aside]  It is the poison'd cup: it is too late.

HAMLET	I dare not drink yet, madam; by and by.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Come, let me wipe thy face.

LAERTES	My lord, I'll hit him now.

KING CLAUDIUS	I do not think't.

LAERTES	[Aside]  And yet 'tis almost 'gainst my conscience.

HAMLET	Come, for the third, Laertes: you but dally;
	I pray you, pass with your best violence;
	I am afeard you make a wanton of me.

LAERTES	Say you so? come on.

	[They play]

OSRIC	Nothing, neither way.

LAERTES	Have at you now!

	[LAERTES wounds HAMLET; then in scuffling, they
	change rapiers, and HAMLET wounds LAERTES]

KING CLAUDIUS	Part them; they are incensed.

HAMLET	Nay, come, again.

	[QUEEN GERTRUDE falls]

OSRIC	                  Look to the queen there, ho!

HORATIO	They bleed on both sides. How is it, my lord?

OSRIC	How is't, Laertes?

LAERTES	Why, as a woodcock to mine own springe, Osric;
	I am justly kill'd with mine own treachery.

HAMLET	How does the queen?

KING CLAUDIUS	She swounds to see them bleed.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	No, no, the drink, the drink,--O my dear Hamlet,--
	The drink, the drink! I am poison'd.

	[Dies]

HAMLET	O villany! Ho! let the door be lock'd:
	Treachery! Seek it out.

LAERTES	It is here, Hamlet: Hamlet, thou art slain;
	No medicine in the world can do thee good;
	In thee there is not half an hour of life;
	The treacherous instrument is in thy hand,
	Unbated and envenom'd: the foul practise
	Hath turn'd itself on me lo, here I lie,
	Never to rise again: thy mother's poison'd:
	I can no more: the king, the king's to blame.

HAMLET	The point!--envenom'd too!
	Then, venom, to thy work.

	[Stabs KING CLAUDIUS]

All	Treason! treason!

KING CLAUDIUS	O, yet defend me, friends; I am but hurt.

HAMLET	Here, thou incestuous, murderous, damned Dane,
	Drink off this potion. Is thy union here?
	Follow my mother.

	[KING CLAUDIUS dies]

LAERTES	                  He is justly served;
	It is a poison temper'd by himself.
	Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet:
	Mine and my father's death come not upon thee,
	Nor thine on me.

	[Dies]

HAMLET	Heaven make thee free of it! I follow thee.
	I am dead, Horatio. Wretched queen, adieu!
	You that look pale and tremble at this chance,
	That are but mutes or audience to this act,
	Had I but time--as this fell sergeant, death,
	Is strict in his arrest--O, I could tell you--
	But let it be. Horatio, I am dead;
	Thou livest; report me and my cause aright
	To the unsatisfied.

HORATIO	Never believe it:
	I am more an antique Roman than a Dane:
	Here's yet some liquor left.

HAMLET	As thou'rt a man,
	Give me the cup: let go; by heaven, I'll have't.
	O good Horatio, what a wounded name,
	Things standing thus unknown, shall live behind me!
	If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart
	Absent thee from felicity awhile,
	And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain,
	To tell my story.

	[March afar off, and shot within]

	What warlike noise is this?

OSRIC	Young Fortinbras, with conquest come from Poland,
	To the ambassadors of England gives
	This warlike volley.

HAMLET	O, I die, Horatio;
	The potent poison quite o'er-crows my spirit:
	I cannot live to hear the news from England;
	But I do prophesy the election lights
	On Fortinbras: he has my dying voice;
	So tell him, with the occurrents, more and less,
	Which have solicited. The rest is silence.

	[Dies]

HORATIO	Now cracks a noble heart. Good night sweet prince:
	And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!
	Why does the drum come hither?

	[March within]

	[Enter FORTINBRAS, the English Ambassadors,
	and others]

PRINCE FORTINBRAS	Where is this sight?

HORATIO	What is it ye would see?
	If aught of woe or wonder, cease your search.

PRINCE FORTINBRAS	This quarry cries on havoc. O proud death,
	What feast is toward in thine eternal cell,
	That thou so many princes at a shot
	So bloodily hast struck?

First Ambassador	The sight is dismal;
	And our affairs from England come too late:
	The ears are senseless that should give us hearing,
	To tell him his commandment is fulfill'd,
	That Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead:
	Where should we have our thanks?

HORATIO	Not from his mouth,
	Had it the ability of life to thank you:
	He never gave commandment for their death.
	But since, so jump upon this bloody question,
	You from the Polack wars, and you from England,
	Are here arrived give order that these bodies
	High on a stage be placed to the view;
	And let me speak to the yet unknowing world
	How these things came about: so shall you hear
	Of carnal, bloody, and unnatural acts,
	Of accidental judgments, casual slaughters,
	Of deaths put on by cunning and forced cause,
	And, in this upshot, purposes mistook
	Fall'n on the inventors' reads: all this can I
	Truly deliver.

PRINCE FORTINBRAS	                  Let us haste to hear it,
	And call the noblest to the audience.
	For me, with sorrow I embrace my fortune:
	I have some rights of memory in this kingdom,
	Which now to claim my vantage doth invite me.

HORATIO	Of that I shall have also cause to speak,
	And from his mouth whose voice will draw on more;
	But let this same be presently perform'd,
	Even while men's minds are wild; lest more mischance
	On plots and errors, happen.

PRINCE FORTINBRAS	Let four captains
	Bear Hamlet, like a soldier, to the stage;
	For he was likely, had he been put on,
	To have proved most royally: and, for his passage,
	The soldiers' music and the rites of war
	Speak loudly for him.
	Take up the bodies: such a sight as this
	Becomes the field, but here shows much amiss.
	Go, bid the soldiers shoot.

	[A dead march. Exeunt, bearing off the dead
	bodies; after which a peal of ordnance is shot off]




	OTHELLO


	DRAMATIS PERSONAE


DUKE OF VENICE:

BRABANTIO	a senator.

	Other Senators.
	(Senator:)
	(First Senator:)
	(Second Senator:)

GRATIANO	brother to Brabantio.

LODOVICO	kinsman to Brabantio.

OTHELLO	a noble Moor in the service of the Venetian state.

CASSIO	his lieutenant.

IAGO	his ancient.

RODERIGO	a Venetian gentleman.

MONTANO	Othello's predecessor in the government of Cyprus.

	Clown, servant to Othello. (Clown:)

DESDEMONA	daughter to Brabantio and wife to Othello.

EMILIA	wife to Iago.

BIANCA	mistress to Cassio.

	Sailor, Messenger, Herald, Officers, Gentlemen,
	Musicians, and Attendants.
	(Sailor:)
	(First Officer:)
	(Messenger:)
	(Gentleman:)
	(First Gentleman:)
	(Second Gentleman:)
	(Third Gentleman:)
	(First Musician:)


SCENE	Venice: a Sea-port in Cyprus.




	OTHELLO


ACT I



SCENE I	Venice. A street.


	[Enter RODERIGO and IAGO]

RODERIGO	Tush! never tell me; I take it much unkindly
	That thou, Iago, who hast had my purse
	As if the strings were thine, shouldst know of this.

IAGO	'Sblood, but you will not hear me:
	If ever I did dream of such a matter, Abhor me.

RODERIGO	Thou told'st me thou didst hold him in thy hate.

IAGO	Despise me, if I do not. Three great ones of the city,
	In personal suit to make me his lieutenant,
	Off-capp'd to him: and, by the faith of man,
	I know my price, I am worth no worse a place:
	But he; as loving his own pride and purposes,
	Evades them, with a bombast circumstance
	Horribly stuff'd with epithets of war;
	And, in conclusion,
	Nonsuits my mediators; for, 'Certes,' says he,
	'I have already chose my officer.'
	And what was he?
	Forsooth, a great arithmetician,
	One Michael Cassio, a Florentine,
	A fellow almost damn'd in a fair wife;
	That never set a squadron in the field,
	Nor the division of a battle knows
	More than a spinster; unless the bookish theoric,
	Wherein the toged consuls can propose
	As masterly as he: mere prattle, without practise,
	Is all his soldiership. But he, sir, had the election:
	And I, of whom his eyes had seen the proof
	At Rhodes, at Cyprus and on other grounds
	Christian and heathen, must be be-lee'd and calm'd
	By debitor and creditor: this counter-caster,
	He, in good time, must his lieutenant be,
	And I--God bless the mark!--his Moorship's ancient.

RODERIGO	By heaven, I rather would have been his hangman.

IAGO	Why, there's no remedy; 'tis the curse of service,
	Preferment goes by letter and affection,
	And not by old gradation, where each second
	Stood heir to the first. Now, sir, be judge yourself,
	Whether I in any just term am affined
	To love the Moor.

RODERIGO	I would not follow him then.

IAGO	O, sir, content you;
	I follow him to serve my turn upon him:
	We cannot all be masters, nor all masters
	Cannot be truly follow'd. You shall mark
	Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave,
	That, doting on his own obsequious bondage,
	Wears out his time, much like his master's ass,
	For nought but provender, and when he's old, cashier'd:
	Whip me such honest knaves. Others there are
	Who, trimm'd in forms and visages of duty,
	Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves,
	And, throwing but shows of service on their lords,
	Do well thrive by them and when they have lined
	their coats
	Do themselves homage: these fellows have some soul;
	And such a one do I profess myself. For, sir,
	It is as sure as you are Roderigo,
	Were I the Moor, I would not be Iago:
	In following him, I follow but myself;
	Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty,
	But seeming so, for my peculiar end:
	For when my outward action doth demonstrate
	The native act and figure of my heart
	In compliment extern, 'tis not long after
	But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve
	For daws to peck at: I am not what I am.

RODERIGO	What a full fortune does the thicklips owe
	If he can carry't thus!

IAGO	Call up her father,
	Rouse him: make after him, poison his delight,
	Proclaim him in the streets; incense her kinsmen,
	And, though he in a fertile climate dwell,
	Plague him with flies: though that his joy be joy,
	Yet throw such changes of vexation on't,
	As it may lose some colour.

RODERIGO	Here is her father's house; I'll call aloud.

IAGO	Do, with like timorous accent and dire yell
	As when, by night and negligence, the fire
	Is spied in populous cities.

RODERIGO	What, ho, Brabantio! Signior Brabantio, ho!

IAGO	Awake! what, ho, Brabantio! thieves! thieves! thieves!
	Look to your house, your daughter and your bags!
	Thieves! thieves!

	[BRABANTIO appears above, at a window]

BRABANTIO	What is the reason of this terrible summons?
	What is the matter there?

RODERIGO	Signior, is all your family within?

IAGO	Are your doors lock'd?

BRABANTIO	Why, wherefore ask you this?

IAGO	'Zounds, sir, you're robb'd; for shame, put on
	your gown;
	Your heart is burst, you have lost half your soul;
	Even now, now, very now, an old black ram
	Is topping your white ewe. Arise, arise;
	Awake the snorting citizens with the bell,
	Or else the devil will make a grandsire of you:
	Arise, I say.

BRABANTIO	                  What, have you lost your wits?

RODERIGO	Most reverend signior, do you know my voice?

BRABANTIO	Not I	what are you?

RODERIGO	My name is Roderigo.

BRABANTIO	The worser welcome:
	I have charged thee not to haunt about my doors:
	In honest plainness thou hast heard me say
	My daughter is not for thee; and now, in madness,
	Being full of supper and distempering draughts,
	Upon malicious bravery, dost thou come
	To start my quiet.

RODERIGO	Sir, sir, sir,--

BRABANTIO	                  But thou must needs be sure
	My spirit and my place have in them power
	To make this bitter to thee.

RODERIGO	Patience, good sir.

BRABANTIO	What tell'st thou me of robbing? this is Venice;
	My house is not a grange.

RODERIGO	Most grave Brabantio,
	In simple and pure soul I come to you.

IAGO	'Zounds, sir, you are one of those that will not
	serve God, if the devil bid you. Because we come to
	do you service and you think we are ruffians, you'll
	have your daughter covered with a Barbary horse;
	you'll have your nephews neigh to you; you'll have
	coursers for cousins and gennets for germans.

BRABANTIO	What profane wretch art thou?

IAGO	I am one, sir, that comes to tell you your daughter
	and the Moor are now making the beast with two backs.

BRABANTIO	Thou art a villain.

IAGO	You are--a senator.

BRABANTIO	This thou shalt answer; I know thee, Roderigo.

RODERIGO	Sir, I will answer any thing. But, I beseech you,
	If't be your pleasure and most wise consent,
	As partly I find it is, that your fair daughter,
	At this odd-even and dull watch o' the night,
	Transported, with no worse nor better guard
	But with a knave of common hire, a gondolier,
	To the gross clasps of a lascivious Moor--
	If this be known to you and your allowance,
	We then have done you bold and saucy wrongs;
	But if you know not this, my manners tell me
	We have your wrong rebuke. Do not believe
	That, from the sense of all civility,
	I thus would play and trifle with your reverence:
	Your daughter, if you have not given her leave,
	I say again, hath made a gross revolt;
	Tying her duty, beauty, wit and fortunes
	In an extravagant and wheeling stranger
	Of here and every where. Straight satisfy yourself:
	If she be in her chamber or your house,
	Let loose on me the justice of the state
	For thus deluding you.

BRABANTIO	Strike on the tinder, ho!
	Give me a taper! call up all my people!
	This accident is not unlike my dream:
	Belief of it oppresses me already.
	Light, I say! light!

	[Exit above]

IAGO	Farewell; for I must leave you:
	It seems not meet, nor wholesome to my place,
	To be produced--as, if I stay, I shall--
	Against the Moor: for, I do know, the state,
	However this may gall him with some cheque,
	Cannot with safety cast him, for he's embark'd
	With such loud reason to the Cyprus wars,
	Which even now stand in act, that, for their souls,
	Another of his fathom they have none,
	To lead their business: in which regard,
	Though I do hate him as I do hell-pains.
	Yet, for necessity of present life,
	I must show out a flag and sign of love,
	Which is indeed but sign. That you shall surely find him,
	Lead to the Sagittary the raised search;
	And there will I be with him. So, farewell.

	[Exit]

	[Enter, below, BRABANTIO, and Servants with torches]

BRABANTIO	It is too true an evil: gone she is;
	And what's to come of my despised time
	Is nought but bitterness. Now, Roderigo,
	Where didst thou see her? O unhappy girl!
	With the Moor, say'st thou? Who would be a father!
	How didst thou know 'twas she? O she deceives me
	Past thought! What said she to you? Get more tapers:
	Raise all my kindred. Are they married, think you?

RODERIGO	Truly, I think they are.

BRABANTIO	O heaven! How got she out? O treason of the blood!
	Fathers, from hence trust not your daughters' minds
	By what you see them act. Is there not charms
	By which the property of youth and maidhood
	May be abused? Have you not read, Roderigo,
	Of some such thing?

RODERIGO	Yes, sir, I have indeed.

BRABANTIO	Call up my brother. O, would you had had her!
	Some one way, some another. Do you know
	Where we may apprehend her and the Moor?

RODERIGO	I think I can discover him, if you please,
	To get good guard and go along with me.

BRABANTIO	Pray you, lead on. At every house I'll call;
	I may command at most. Get weapons, ho!
	And raise some special officers of night.
	On, good Roderigo: I'll deserve your pains.

	[Exeunt]




	OTHELLO


ACT I



SCENE II	Another street.


	[Enter OTHELLO, IAGO, and Attendants with torches]

IAGO	Though in the trade of war I have slain men,
	Yet do I hold it very stuff o' the conscience
	To do no contrived murder: I lack iniquity
	Sometimes to do me service: nine or ten times
	I had thought to have yerk'd him here under the ribs.

OTHELLO	'Tis better as it is.

IAGO	Nay, but he prated,

	And spoke such scurvy and provoking terms
	Against your honour
	That, with the little godliness I have,
	I did full hard forbear him. But, I pray you, sir,
	Are you fast married? Be assured of this,
	That the magnifico is much beloved,
	And hath in his effect a voice potential
	As double as the duke's: he will divorce you;
	Or put upon you what restraint and grievance
	The law, with all his might to enforce it on,
	Will give him cable.

OTHELLO	Let him do his spite:
	My services which I have done the signiory
	Shall out-tongue his complaints. 'Tis yet to know,--
	Which, when I know that boasting is an honour,
	I shall promulgate--I fetch my life and being
	From men of royal siege, and my demerits
	May speak unbonneted to as proud a fortune
	As this that I have reach'd: for know, Iago,
	But that I love the gentle Desdemona,
	I would not my unhoused free condition
	Put into circumscription and confine
	For the sea's worth. But, look! what lights come yond?

IAGO	Those are the raised father and his friends:
	You were best go in.

OTHELLO	Not I	I must be found:
	My parts, my title and my perfect soul
	Shall manifest me rightly. Is it they?

IAGO	By Janus, I think no.

	[Enter CASSIO, and certain Officers with torches]

OTHELLO	The servants of the duke, and my lieutenant.
	The goodness of the night upon you, friends!
	What is the news?

CASSIO	                  The duke does greet you, general,
	And he requires your haste-post-haste appearance,
	Even on the instant.

OTHELLO	What is the matter, think you?

CASSIO	Something from Cyprus as I may divine:
	It is a business of some heat: the galleys
	Have sent a dozen sequent messengers
	This very night at one another's heels,
	And many of the consuls, raised and met,
	Are at the duke's already: you have been
	hotly call'd for;
	When, being not at your lodging to be found,
	The senate hath sent about three several guests
	To search you out.

OTHELLO	'Tis well I am found by you.
	I will but spend a word here in the house,
	And go with you.

	[Exit]

CASSIO	                  Ancient, what makes he here?

IAGO	'Faith, he to-night hath boarded a land carack:
	If it prove lawful prize, he's made for ever.

CASSIO	I do not understand.

IAGO	He's married.

CASSIO	To who?

	[Re-enter OTHELLO]

IAGO	Marry, to--Come, captain, will you go?

OTHELLO	Have with you.

CASSIO	Here comes another troop to seek for you.

IAGO	It is Brabantio. General, be advised;
	He comes to bad intent.

	[Enter BRABANTIO, RODERIGO, and Officers with
	torches and weapons]

OTHELLO	Holla! stand there!

RODERIGO	Signior, it is the Moor.

BRABANTIO	Down with him, thief!

	[They draw on both sides]

IAGO	You, Roderigo! come, sir, I am for you.

OTHELLO	Keep up your bright swords, for the dew will rust them.
	Good signior, you shall more command with years
	Than with your weapons.

BRABANTIO	O thou foul thief, where hast thou stow'd my daughter?
	Damn'd as thou art, thou hast enchanted her;
	For I'll refer me to all things of sense,
	If she in chains of magic were not bound,
	Whether a maid so tender, fair and happy,
	So opposite to marriage that she shunned
	The wealthy curled darlings of our nation,
	Would ever have, to incur a general mock,
	Run from her guardage to the sooty bosom
	Of such a thing as thou, to fear, not to delight.
	Judge me the world, if 'tis not gross in sense
	That thou hast practised on her with foul charms,
	Abused her delicate youth with drugs or minerals
	That weaken motion: I'll have't disputed on;
	'Tis probable and palpable to thinking.
	I therefore apprehend and do attach thee
	For an abuser of the world, a practiser
	Of arts inhibited and out of warrant.
	Lay hold upon him: if he do resist,
	Subdue him at his peril.

OTHELLO	Hold your hands,
	Both you of my inclining, and the rest:
	Were it my cue to fight, I should have known it
	Without a prompter. Where will you that I go
	To answer this your charge?

BRABANTIO	To prison, till fit time
	Of law and course of direct session
	Call thee to answer.

OTHELLO	What if I do obey?
	How may the duke be therewith satisfied,
	Whose messengers are here about my side,
	Upon some present business of the state
	To bring me to him?

First Officer	'Tis true, most worthy signior;
	The duke's in council and your noble self,
	I am sure, is sent for.

BRABANTIO	How! the duke in council!
	In this time of the night! Bring him away:
	Mine's not an idle cause: the duke himself,
	Or any of my brothers of the state,
	Cannot but feel this wrong as 'twere their own;
	For if such actions may have passage free,
	Bond-slaves and pagans shall our statesmen be.

	[Exeunt]




	OTHELLO


ACT I



SCENE III	A council-chamber.


	[The DUKE and Senators sitting at a table; Officers
	attending]

DUKE OF VENICE	There is no composition in these news
	That gives them credit.

First Senator	Indeed, they are disproportion'd;
	My letters say a hundred and seven galleys.

DUKE OF VENICE	And mine, a hundred and forty.

Second Senator	And mine, two hundred:
	But though they jump not on a just account,--
	As in these cases, where the aim reports,
	'Tis oft with difference--yet do they all confirm
	A Turkish fleet, and bearing up to Cyprus.

DUKE OF VENICE	Nay, it is possible enough to judgment:
	I do not so secure me in the error,
	But the main article I do approve
	In fearful sense.

Sailor	[Within]  What, ho! what, ho! what, ho!

First Officer	A messenger from the galleys.

	[Enter a Sailor]

DUKE OF VENICE	Now, what's the business?

Sailor	The Turkish preparation makes for Rhodes;
	So was I bid report here to the state
	By Signior Angelo.

DUKE OF VENICE	How say you by this change?

First Senator	This cannot be,
	By no assay of reason: 'tis a pageant,
	To keep us in false gaze. When we consider
	The importancy of Cyprus to the Turk,
	And let ourselves again but understand,
	That as it more concerns the Turk than Rhodes,
	So may he with more facile question bear it,
	For that it stands not in such warlike brace,
	But altogether lacks the abilities
	That Rhodes is dress'd in: if we make thought of this,
	We must not think the Turk is so unskilful
	To leave that latest which concerns him first,
	Neglecting an attempt of ease and gain,
	To wake and wage a danger profitless.

DUKE OF VENICE	Nay, in all confidence, he's not for Rhodes.

First Officer	Here is more news.

	[Enter a Messenger]

Messenger	The Ottomites, reverend and gracious,
	Steering with due course towards the isle of Rhodes,
	Have there injointed them with an after fleet.

First Senator	Ay, so I thought. How many, as you guess?

Messenger	Of thirty sail: and now they do restem
	Their backward course, bearing with frank appearance
	Their purposes toward Cyprus. Signior Montano,
	Your trusty and most valiant servitor,
	With his free duty recommends you thus,
	And prays you to believe him.

DUKE OF VENICE	'Tis certain, then, for Cyprus.
	Marcus Luccicos, is not he in town?

First Senator	He's now in Florence.

DUKE OF VENICE	Write from us to him; post-post-haste dispatch.

First Senator	Here comes Brabantio and the valiant Moor.

	[Enter BRABANTIO, OTHELLO, IAGO, RODERIGO, and Officers]

DUKE OF VENICE	Valiant Othello, we must straight employ you
	Against the general enemy Ottoman.

	[To BRABANTIO]

	I did not see you; welcome, gentle signior;
	We lack'd your counsel and your help tonight.

BRABANTIO	So did I yours. Good your grace, pardon me;
	Neither my place nor aught I heard of business
	Hath raised me from my bed, nor doth the general care
	Take hold on me, for my particular grief
	Is of so flood-gate and o'erbearing nature
	That it engluts and swallows other sorrows
	And it is still itself.

DUKE OF VENICE	Why, what's the matter?

BRABANTIO	My daughter! O, my daughter!


DUKE OF VENICE	|	Dead?
Senator	|


BRABANTIO	Ay, to me;
	She is abused, stol'n from me, and corrupted
	By spells and medicines bought of mountebanks;
	For nature so preposterously to err,
	Being not deficient, blind, or lame of sense,
	Sans witchcraft could not.

DUKE OF VENICE	Whoe'er he be that in this foul proceeding
	Hath thus beguiled your daughter of herself
	And you of her, the bloody book of law
	You shall yourself read in the bitter letter
	After your own sense, yea, though our proper son
	Stood in your action.

BRABANTIO	Humbly I thank your grace.
	Here is the man, this Moor, whom now, it seems,
	Your special mandate for the state-affairs
	Hath hither brought.


DUKE OF VENICE	|
	|                 We are very sorry for't.
Senator	|


DUKE OF VENICE	[To OTHELLO]  What, in your own part, can you say to this?

BRABANTIO	Nothing, but this is so.

OTHELLO	Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors,
	My very noble and approved good masters,
	That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter,
	It is most true; true, I have married her:
	The very head and front of my offending
	Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my speech,
	And little bless'd with the soft phrase of peace:
	For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith,
	Till now some nine moons wasted, they have used
	Their dearest action in the tented field,
	And little of this great world can I speak,
	More than pertains to feats of broil and battle,
	And therefore little shall I grace my cause
	In speaking for myself. Yet, by your gracious patience,
	I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver
	Of my whole course of love; what drugs, what charms,
	What conjuration and what mighty magic,
	For such proceeding I am charged withal,
	I won his daughter.

BRABANTIO	A maiden never bold;
	Of spirit so still and quiet, that her motion
	Blush'd at herself; and she, in spite of nature,
	Of years, of country, credit, every thing,
	To fall in love with what she fear'd to look on!
	It is a judgment maim'd and most imperfect
	That will confess perfection so could err
	Against all rules of nature, and must be driven
	To find out practises of cunning hell,
	Why this should be. I therefore vouch again
	That with some mixtures powerful o'er the blood,
	Or with some dram conjured to this effect,
	He wrought upon her.

DUKE OF VENICE	To vouch this, is no proof,
	Without more wider and more overt test
	Than these thin habits and poor likelihoods
	Of modern seeming do prefer against him.

First Senator	But, Othello, speak:
	Did you by indirect and forced courses
	Subdue and poison this young maid's affections?
	Or came it by request and such fair question
	As soul to soul affordeth?

OTHELLO	I do beseech you,
	Send for the lady to the Sagittary,
	And let her speak of me before her father:
	If you do find me foul in her report,
	The trust, the office I do hold of you,
	Not only take away, but let your sentence
	Even fall upon my life.

DUKE OF VENICE	Fetch Desdemona hither.

OTHELLO	Ancient, conduct them: you best know the place.

	[Exeunt IAGO and Attendants]

	And, till she come, as truly as to heaven
	I do confess the vices of my blood,
	So justly to your grave ears I'll present
	How I did thrive in this fair lady's love,
	And she in mine.

DUKE OF VENICE	Say it, Othello.

OTHELLO	Her father loved me; oft invited me;
	Still question'd me the story of my life,
	From year to year, the battles, sieges, fortunes,
	That I have passed.
	I ran it through, even from my boyish days,
	To the very moment that he bade me tell it;
	Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances,
	Of moving accidents by flood and field
	Of hair-breadth scapes i' the imminent deadly breach,
	Of being taken by the insolent foe
	And sold to slavery, of my redemption thence
	And portance in my travels' history:
	Wherein of antres vast and deserts idle,
	Rough quarries, rocks and hills whose heads touch heaven
	It was my hint to speak,--such was the process;
	And of the Cannibals that each other eat,
	The Anthropophagi and men whose heads
	Do grow beneath their shoulders. This to hear
	Would Desdemona seriously incline:
	But still the house-affairs would draw her thence:
	Which ever as she could with haste dispatch,
	She'ld come again, and with a greedy ear
	Devour up my discourse: which I observing,
	Took once a pliant hour, and found good means
	To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart
	That I would all my pilgrimage dilate,
	Whereof by parcels she had something heard,
	But not intentively: I did consent,
	And often did beguile her of her tears,
	When I did speak of some distressful stroke
	That my youth suffer'd. My story being done,
	She gave me for my pains a world of sighs:
	She swore, in faith, twas strange, 'twas passing strange,
	'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful:
	She wish'd she had not heard it, yet she wish'd
	That heaven had made her such a man: she thank'd me,
	And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her,
	I should but teach him how to tell my story.
	And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake:
	She loved me for the dangers I had pass'd,
	And I loved her that she did pity them.
	This only is the witchcraft I have used:
	Here comes the lady; let her witness it.

	[Enter DESDEMONA, IAGO, and Attendants]

DUKE OF VENICE	I think this tale would win my daughter too.
	Good Brabantio,
	Take up this mangled matter at the best:
	Men do their broken weapons rather use
	Than their bare hands.

BRABANTIO	I pray you, hear her speak:
	If she confess that she was half the wooer,
	Destruction on my head, if my bad blame
	Light on the man! Come hither, gentle mistress:
	Do you perceive in all this noble company
	Where most you owe obedience?

DESDEMONA	My noble father,
	I do perceive here a divided duty:
	To you I am bound for life and education;
	My life and education both do learn me
	How to respect you; you are the lord of duty;
	I am hitherto your daughter: but here's my husband,
	And so much duty as my mother show'd
	To you, preferring you before her father,
	So much I challenge that I may profess
	Due to the Moor my lord.

BRABANTIO	God be wi' you! I have done.
	Please it your grace, on to the state-affairs:
	I had rather to adopt a child than get it.
	Come hither, Moor:
	I here do give thee that with all my heart
	Which, but thou hast already, with all my heart
	I would keep from thee. For your sake, jewel,
	I am glad at soul I have no other child:
	For thy escape would teach me tyranny,
	To hang clogs on them. I have done, my lord.

DUKE OF VENICE	Let me speak like yourself, and lay a sentence,
	Which, as a grise or step, may help these lovers
	Into your favour.
	When remedies are past, the griefs are ended
	By seeing the worst, which late on hopes depended.
	To mourn a mischief that is past and gone
	Is the next way to draw new mischief on.
	What cannot be preserved when fortune takes
	Patience her injury a mockery makes.
	The robb'd that smiles steals something from the thief;
	He robs himself that spends a bootless grief.

BRABANTIO	So let the Turk of Cyprus us beguile;
	We lose it not, so long as we can smile.
	He bears the sentence well that nothing bears
	But the free comfort which from thence he hears,
	But he bears both the sentence and the sorrow
	That, to pay grief, must of poor patience borrow.
	These sentences, to sugar, or to gall,
	Being strong on both sides, are equivocal:
	But words are words; I never yet did hear
	That the bruised heart was pierced through the ear.
	I humbly beseech you, proceed to the affairs of state.

DUKE OF VENICE	The Turk with a most mighty preparation makes for
	Cyprus. Othello, the fortitude of the place is best
	known to you; and though we have there a substitute
	of most allowed sufficiency, yet opinion, a
	sovereign mistress of effects, throws a more safer
	voice on you: you must therefore be content to
	slubber the gloss of your new fortunes with this
	more stubborn and boisterous expedition.

OTHELLO	The tyrant custom, most grave senators,
	Hath made the flinty and steel couch of war
	My thrice-driven bed of down: I do agnise
	A natural and prompt alacrity
	I find in hardness, and do undertake
	These present wars against the Ottomites.
	Most humbly therefore bending to your state,
	I crave fit disposition for my wife.
	Due reference of place and exhibition,
	With such accommodation and besort
	As levels with her breeding.

DUKE OF VENICE	If you please,
	Be't at her father's.

BRABANTIO	I'll not have it so.

OTHELLO	Nor I.

DESDEMONA	     Nor I; I would not there reside,
	To put my father in impatient thoughts
	By being in his eye. Most gracious duke,
	To my unfolding lend your prosperous ear;
	And let me find a charter in your voice,
	To assist my simpleness.

DUKE OF VENICE	What would You, Desdemona?

DESDEMONA	That I did love the Moor to live with him,
	My downright violence and storm of fortunes
	May trumpet to the world: my heart's subdued
	Even to the very quality of my lord:
	I saw Othello's visage in his mind,
	And to his honour and his valiant parts
	Did I my soul and fortunes consecrate.
	So that, dear lords, if I be left behind,
	A moth of peace, and he go to the war,
	The rites for which I love him are bereft me,
	And I a heavy interim shall support
	By his dear absence. Let me go with him.

OTHELLO	Let her have your voices.
	Vouch with me, heaven, I therefore beg it not,
	To please the palate of my appetite,
	Nor to comply with heat--the young affects
	In me defunct--and proper satisfaction.
	But to be free and bounteous to her mind:
	And heaven defend your good souls, that you think
	I will your serious and great business scant
	For she is with me: no, when light-wing'd toys
	Of feather'd Cupid seal with wanton dullness
	My speculative and officed instruments,
	That my disports corrupt and taint my business,
	Let housewives make a skillet of my helm,
	And all indign and base adversities
	Make head against my estimation!

DUKE OF VENICE	Be it as you shall privately determine,
	Either for her stay or going: the affair cries haste,
	And speed must answer it.

First Senator	You must away to-night.

OTHELLO	With all my heart.

DUKE OF VENICE	At nine i' the morning here we'll meet again.
	Othello, leave some officer behind,
	And he shall our commission bring to you;
	With such things else of quality and respect
	As doth import you.

OTHELLO	So please your grace, my ancient;
	A man he is of honest and trust:
	To his conveyance I assign my wife,
	With what else needful your good grace shall think
	To be sent after me.

DUKE OF VENICE	Let it be so.
	Good night to every one.

	[To BRABANTIO]

		   And, noble signior,
	If virtue no delighted beauty lack,
	Your son-in-law is far more fair than black.

First Senator	Adieu, brave Moor, use Desdemona well.

BRABANTIO	Look to her, Moor, if thou hast eyes to see:
	She has deceived her father, and may thee.

	[Exeunt DUKE OF VENICE, Senators, Officers, &c]

OTHELLO	My life upon her faith! Honest Iago,
	My Desdemona must I leave to thee:
	I prithee, let thy wife attend on her:
	And bring them after in the best advantage.

	Come, Desdemona: I have but an hour
	Of love, of worldly matters and direction,
	To spend with thee: we must obey the time.

	[Exeunt OTHELLO and DESDEMONA]

RODERIGO	Iago,--

IAGO	What say'st thou, noble heart?

RODERIGO	What will I do, thinkest thou?

IAGO	Why, go to bed, and sleep.

RODERIGO	I will incontinently drown myself.

IAGO	If thou dost, I shall never love thee after. Why,
	thou silly gentleman!

RODERIGO	It is silliness to live when to live is torment; and
	then have we a prescription to die when death is our physician.

IAGO	O villainous! I have looked upon the world for four
	times seven years; and since I could distinguish
	betwixt a benefit and an injury, I never found man
	that knew how to love himself. Ere I would say, I
	would drown myself for the love of a guinea-hen, I
	would change my humanity with a baboon.

RODERIGO	What should I do? I confess it is my shame to be so
	fond; but it is not in my virtue to amend it.

IAGO	Virtue! a fig! 'tis in ourselves that we are thus
	or thus. Our bodies are our gardens, to the which
	our wills are gardeners: so that if we will plant
	nettles, or sow lettuce, set hyssop and weed up
	thyme, supply it with one gender of herbs, or
	distract it with many, either to have it sterile
	with idleness, or manured with industry, why, the
	power and corrigible authority of this lies in our
	wills. If the balance of our lives had not one
	scale of reason to poise another of sensuality, the
	blood and baseness of our natures would conduct us
	to most preposterous conclusions: but we have
	reason to cool our raging motions, our carnal
	stings, our unbitted lusts, whereof I take this that
	you call love to be a sect or scion.

RODERIGO	It cannot be.

IAGO	It is merely a lust of the blood and a permission of
	the will. Come, be a man. Drown thyself! drown
	cats and blind puppies. I have professed me thy
	friend and I confess me knit to thy deserving with
	cables of perdurable toughness; I could never
	better stead thee than now. Put money in thy
	purse; follow thou the wars; defeat thy favour with
	an usurped beard; I say, put money in thy purse. It
	cannot be that Desdemona should long continue her
	love to the Moor,-- put money in thy purse,--nor he
	his to her: it was a violent commencement, and thou
	shalt see an answerable sequestration:--put but
	money in thy purse. These Moors are changeable in
	their wills: fill thy purse with money:--the food
	that to him now is as luscious as locusts, shall be
	to him shortly as bitter as coloquintida. She must
	change for youth: when she is sated with his body,
	she will find the error of her choice: she must
	have change, she must: therefore put money in thy
	purse. If thou wilt needs damn thyself, do it a
	more delicate way than drowning. Make all the money
	thou canst: if sanctimony and a frail vow betwixt
	an erring barbarian and a supersubtle Venetian not
	too hard for my wits and all the tribe of hell, thou
	shalt enjoy her; therefore make money. A pox of
	drowning thyself! it is clean out of the way: seek
	thou rather to be hanged in compassing thy joy than
	to be drowned and go without her.

RODERIGO	Wilt thou be fast to my hopes, if I depend on
	the issue?

IAGO	Thou art sure of me:--go, make money:--I have told
	thee often, and I re-tell thee again and again, I
	hate the Moor: my cause is hearted; thine hath no
	less reason. Let us be conjunctive in our revenge
	against him: if thou canst cuckold him, thou dost
	thyself a pleasure, me a sport. There are many
	events in the womb of time which will be delivered.
	Traverse! go, provide thy money. We will have more
	of this to-morrow. Adieu.

RODERIGO	Where shall we meet i' the morning?

IAGO	At my lodging.

RODERIGO	I'll be with thee betimes.

IAGO	Go to; farewell. Do you hear, Roderigo?

RODERIGO	What say you?

IAGO	No more of drowning, do you hear?

RODERIGO	I am changed: I'll go sell all my land.

	[Exit]

IAGO	Thus do I ever make my fool my purse:
	For I mine own gain'd knowledge should profane,
	If I would time expend with such a snipe.
	But for my sport and profit. I hate the Moor:
	And it is thought abroad, that 'twixt my sheets
	He has done my office: I know not if't be true;
	But I, for mere suspicion in that kind,
	Will do as if for surety. He holds me well;
	The better shall my purpose work on him.
	Cassio's a proper man: let me see now:
	To get his place and to plume up my will
	In double knavery--How, how? Let's see:--
	After some time, to abuse Othello's ear
	That he is too familiar with his wife.
	He hath a person and a smooth dispose
	To be suspected, framed to make women false.
	The Moor is of a free and open nature,
	That thinks men honest that but seem to be so,
	And will as tenderly be led by the nose
	As asses are.
	I have't. It is engender'd. Hell and night
	Must bring this monstrous birth to the world's light.

	[Exit]




	OTHELLO


ACT II



SCENE I	A Sea-port in Cyprus. An open place near the quay.


	[Enter MONTANO and two Gentlemen]

MONTANO	What from the cape can you discern at sea?

First Gentleman	Nothing at all: it is a highwrought flood;
	I cannot, 'twixt the heaven and the main,
	Descry a sail.

MONTANO	Methinks the wind hath spoke aloud at land;
	A fuller blast ne'er shook our battlements:
	If it hath ruffian'd so upon the sea,
	What ribs of oak, when mountains melt on them,
	Can hold the mortise? What shall we hear of this?

Second Gentleman	A segregation of the Turkish fleet:

	For do but stand upon the foaming shore,
	The chidden billow seems to pelt the clouds;
	The wind-shaked surge, with high and monstrous mane,
	seems to cast water on the burning bear,
	And quench the guards of the ever-fixed pole:
	I never did like molestation view
	On the enchafed flood.

MONTANO	If that the Turkish fleet
	Be not enshelter'd and embay'd, they are drown'd:
	It is impossible they bear it out.

	[Enter a third Gentleman]

Third Gentleman	News, lads! our wars are done.
	The desperate tempest hath so bang'd the Turks,
	That their designment halts: a noble ship of Venice
	Hath seen a grievous wreck and sufferance
	On most part of their fleet.

MONTANO	How! is this true?

Third Gentleman	The ship is here put in,
	A Veronesa; Michael Cassio,
	Lieutenant to the warlike Moor Othello,
	Is come on shore: the Moor himself at sea,
	And is in full commission here for Cyprus.

MONTANO	I am glad on't; 'tis a worthy governor.

Third Gentleman	But this same Cassio, though he speak of comfort
	Touching the Turkish loss, yet he looks sadly,
	And prays the Moor be safe; for they were parted
	With foul and violent tempest.

MONTANO	Pray heavens he be;
	For I have served him, and the man commands
	Like a full soldier. Let's to the seaside, ho!
	As well to see the vessel that's come in
	As to throw out our eyes for brave Othello,
	Even till we make the main and the aerial blue
	An indistinct regard.

Third Gentleman	Come, let's do so:
	For every minute is expectancy
	Of more arrivance.

	[Enter CASSIO]

CASSIO	Thanks, you the valiant of this warlike isle,
	That so approve the Moor! O, let the heavens
	Give him defence against the elements,
	For I have lost us him on a dangerous sea.

MONTANO	Is he well shipp'd?

CASSIO	His bark is stoutly timber'd, his pilot
	Of very expert and approved allowance;
	Therefore my hopes, not surfeited to death,
	Stand in bold cure.

	[A cry within 'A sail, a sail, a sail!']

	[Enter a fourth Gentleman]

CASSIO	What noise?

Fourth Gentleman	The town is empty; on the brow o' the sea
	Stand ranks of people, and they cry 'A sail!'

CASSIO	My hopes do shape him for the governor.

	[Guns heard]

Second Gentlemen	They do discharge their shot of courtesy:
	Our friends at least.

CASSIO	I pray you, sir, go forth,
	And give us truth who 'tis that is arrived.

Second Gentleman	I shall.

	[Exit]

MONTANO	But, good lieutenant, is your general wived?

CASSIO	Most fortunately: he hath achieved a maid
	That paragons description and wild fame;
	One that excels the quirks of blazoning pens,
	And in the essential vesture of creation
	Does tire the ingener.

	[Re-enter second Gentleman]

	How now! who has put in?

Second Gentleman	'Tis one Iago, ancient to the general.

CASSIO	Has had most favourable and happy speed:
	Tempests themselves, high seas, and howling winds,
	The gutter'd rocks and congregated sands--
	Traitors ensteep'd to clog the guiltless keel,--
	As having sense of beauty, do omit
	Their mortal natures, letting go safely by
	The divine Desdemona.

MONTANO	What is she?

CASSIO	She that I spake of, our great captain's captain,
	Left in the conduct of the bold Iago,
	Whose footing here anticipates our thoughts
	A se'nnight's speed. Great Jove, Othello guard,
	And swell his sail with thine own powerful breath,
	That he may bless this bay with his tall ship,
	Make love's quick pants in Desdemona's arms,
	Give renew'd fire to our extincted spirits
	And bring all Cyprus comfort!

	[Enter DESDEMONA, EMILIA, IAGO, RODERIGO, and
	Attendants]

		        O, behold,
	The riches of the ship is come on shore!
	Ye men of Cyprus, let her have your knees.
	Hail to thee, lady! and the grace of heaven,
	Before, behind thee, and on every hand,
	Enwheel thee round!

DESDEMONA	I thank you, valiant Cassio.
	What tidings can you tell me of my lord?

CASSIO	He is not yet arrived: nor know I aught
	But that he's well and will be shortly here.

DESDEMONA	O, but I fear--How lost you company?

CASSIO	The great contention of the sea and skies
	Parted our fellowship--But, hark! a sail.

	[Within 'A sail, a sail!' Guns heard]

Second Gentleman	They give their greeting to the citadel;
	This likewise is a friend.

CASSIO	See for the news.

	[Exit Gentleman]

	Good ancient, you are welcome.

	[To EMILIA]

		         Welcome, mistress.
	Let it not gall your patience, good Iago,
	That I extend my manners; 'tis my breeding
	That gives me this bold show of courtesy.

	[Kissing her]

IAGO	Sir, would she give you so much of her lips
	As of her tongue she oft bestows on me,
	You'll have enough.

DESDEMONA	Alas, she has no speech.

IAGO	In faith, too much;
	I find it still, when I have list to sleep:
	Marry, before your ladyship, I grant,
	She puts her tongue a little in her heart,
	And chides with thinking.

EMILIA	You have little cause to say so.

IAGO	Come on, come on; you are pictures out of doors,
	Bells in your parlors, wild-cats in your kitchens,
	Saints m your injuries, devils being offended,
	Players in your housewifery, and housewives' in your beds.

DESDEMONA	O, fie upon thee, slanderer!

IAGO	Nay, it is true, or else I am a Turk:
	You rise to play and go to bed to work.

EMILIA	You shall not write my praise.

IAGO	No, let me not.

DESDEMONA	What wouldst thou write of me, if thou shouldst
	praise me?

IAGO	O gentle lady, do not put me to't;
	For I am nothing, if not critical.

DESDEMONA	Come on assay. There's one gone to the harbour?

IAGO	Ay, madam.

DESDEMONA	I am not merry; but I do beguile
	The thing I am, by seeming otherwise.
	Come, how wouldst thou praise me?

IAGO	I am about it; but indeed my invention
	Comes from my pate as birdlime does from frize;
	It plucks out brains and all: but my Muse labours,
	And thus she is deliver'd.
	If she be fair and wise, fairness and wit,
	The one's for use, the other useth it.

DESDEMONA	Well praised! How if she be black and witty?

IAGO	If she be black, and thereto have a wit,
	She'll find a white that shall her blackness fit.

DESDEMONA	Worse and worse.

EMILIA	How if fair and foolish?

IAGO	She never yet was foolish that was fair;
	For even her folly help'd her to an heir.

DESDEMONA	These are old fond paradoxes to make fools laugh i'
	the alehouse. What miserable praise hast thou for
	her that's foul and foolish?

IAGO	There's none so foul and foolish thereunto,
	But does foul pranks which fair and wise ones do.

DESDEMONA	O heavy ignorance! thou praisest the worst best.
	But what praise couldst thou bestow on a deserving
	woman indeed, one that, in the authority of her
	merit, did justly put on the vouch of very malice itself?

IAGO	She that was ever fair and never proud,
	Had tongue at will and yet was never loud,
	Never lack'd gold and yet went never gay,
	Fled from her wish and yet said 'Now I may,'
	She that being anger'd, her revenge being nigh,
	Bade her wrong stay and her displeasure fly,
	She that in wisdom never was so frail
	To change the cod's head for the salmon's tail;
	She that could think and ne'er disclose her mind,
	See suitors following and not look behind,
	She was a wight, if ever such wight were,--

DESDEMONA	To do what?

IAGO	To suckle fools and chronicle small beer.

DESDEMONA	O most lame and impotent conclusion! Do not learn
	of him, Emilia, though he be thy husband. How say
	you, Cassio? is he not a most profane and liberal
	counsellor?

CASSIO	He speaks home, madam: You may relish him more in
	the soldier than in the scholar.

IAGO	[Aside]  He takes her by the palm: ay, well said,
	whisper: with as little a web as this will I
	ensnare as great a fly as Cassio. Ay, smile upon
	her, do; I will gyve thee in thine own courtship.
	You say true; 'tis so, indeed: if such tricks as
	these strip you out of your lieutenantry, it had
	been better you had not kissed your three fingers so
	oft, which now again you are most apt to play the
	sir in. Very good; well kissed! an excellent
	courtesy! 'tis so, indeed. Yet again your fingers
	to your lips? would they were clyster-pipes for your sake!

	[Trumpet within]

	The Moor! I know his trumpet.

CASSIO	'Tis truly so.

DESDEMONA	Let's meet him and receive him.

CASSIO	Lo, where he comes!

	[Enter OTHELLO and Attendants]

OTHELLO	O my fair warrior!

DESDEMONA	                  My dear Othello!

OTHELLO	It gives me wonder great as my content
	To see you here before me. O my soul's joy!
	If after every tempest come such calms,
	May the winds blow till they have waken'd death!
	And let the labouring bark climb hills of seas
	Olympus-high and duck again as low
	As hell's from heaven! If it were now to die,
	'Twere now to be most happy; for, I fear,
	My soul hath her content so absolute
	That not another comfort like to this
	Succeeds in unknown fate.

DESDEMONA	The heavens forbid
	But that our loves and comforts should increase,
	Even as our days do grow!

OTHELLO	Amen to that, sweet powers!
	I cannot speak enough of this content;
	It stops me here; it is too much of joy:
	And this, and this, the greatest discords be

	[Kissing her]

	That e'er our hearts shall make!

IAGO	[Aside]  O, you are well tuned now!
	But I'll set down the pegs that make this music,
	As honest as I am.

OTHELLO	                  Come, let us to the castle.
	News, friends; our wars are done, the Turks
	are drown'd.
	How does my old acquaintance of this isle?
	Honey, you shall be well desired in Cyprus;
	I have found great love amongst them. O my sweet,
	I prattle out of fashion, and I dote
	In mine own comforts. I prithee, good Iago,
	Go to the bay and disembark my coffers:
	Bring thou the master to the citadel;
	He is a good one, and his worthiness
	Does challenge much respect. Come, Desdemona,
	Once more, well met at Cyprus.

	[Exeunt OTHELLO, DESDEMONA, and Attendants]

IAGO	Do thou meet me presently at the harbour. Come
	hither. If thou be'st valiant,-- as, they say, base
	men being in love have then a nobility in their
	natures more than is native to them--list me. The
	lieutenant tonight watches on the court of
	guard:--first, I must tell thee this--Desdemona is
	directly in love with him.


RODERIGO	With him! why, 'tis not possible.

IAGO	Lay thy finger thus, and let thy soul be instructed.
	Mark me with what violence she first loved the Moor,
	but for bragging and telling her fantastical lies:
	and will she love him still for prating? let not
	thy discreet heart think it. Her eye must be fed;
	and what delight shall she have to look on the
	devil? When the blood is made dull with the act of
	sport, there should be, again to inflame it and to
	give satiety a fresh appetite, loveliness in favour,
	sympathy in years, manners and beauties; all which
	the Moor is defective in: now, for want of these
	required conveniences, her delicate tenderness will
	find itself abused, begin to heave the gorge,
	disrelish and abhor the Moor; very nature will
	instruct her in it and compel her to some second
	choice. Now, sir, this granted,--as it is a most
	pregnant and unforced position--who stands so
	eminent in the degree of this fortune as Cassio
	does? a knave very voluble; no further
	conscionable than in putting on the mere form of
	civil and humane seeming, for the better compassing
	of his salt and most hidden loose affection? why,
	none; why, none: a slipper and subtle knave, a
	finder of occasions, that has an eye can stamp and
	counterfeit advantages, though true advantage never
	present itself; a devilish knave. Besides, the
	knave is handsome, young, and hath all those
	requisites in him that folly and green minds look
	after: a pestilent complete knave; and the woman
	hath found him already.

RODERIGO	I cannot believe that in her; she's full of
	most blessed condition.

IAGO	Blessed fig's-end! the wine she drinks is made of
	grapes: if she had been blessed, she would never
	have loved the Moor. Blessed pudding! Didst thou
	not see her paddle with the palm of his hand? didst
	not mark that?

RODERIGO	Yes, that I did; but that was but courtesy.

IAGO	Lechery, by this hand; an index and obscure prologue
	to the history of lust and foul thoughts. They met
	so near with their lips that their breaths embraced
	together. Villanous thoughts, Roderigo! when these
	mutualities so marshal the way, hard at hand comes
	the master and main exercise, the incorporate
	conclusion, Pish! But, sir, be you ruled by me: I
	have brought you from Venice. Watch you to-night;
	for the command, I'll lay't upon you. Cassio knows
	you not. I'll not be far from you: do you find
	some occasion to anger Cassio, either by speaking
	too loud, or tainting his discipline; or from what
	other course you please, which the time shall more
	favourably minister.

RODERIGO	Well.

IAGO	Sir, he is rash and very sudden in choler, and haply
	may strike at you: provoke him, that he may; for
	even out of that will I cause these of Cyprus to
	mutiny; whose qualification shall come into no true
	taste again but by the displanting of Cassio. So
	shall you have a shorter journey to your desires by
	the means I shall then have to prefer them; and the
	impediment most profitably removed, without the
	which there were no expectation of our prosperity.

RODERIGO	I will do this, if I can bring it to any
	opportunity.

IAGO	I warrant thee. Meet me by and by at the citadel:
	I must fetch his necessaries ashore. Farewell.

RODERIGO	Adieu.

	[Exit]

IAGO	That Cassio loves her, I do well believe it;
	That she loves him, 'tis apt and of great credit:
	The Moor, howbeit that I endure him not,
	Is of a constant, loving, noble nature,
	And I dare think he'll prove to Desdemona
	A most dear husband. Now, I do love her too;
	Not out of absolute lust, though peradventure
	I stand accountant for as great a sin,
	But partly led to diet my revenge,
	For that I do suspect the lusty Moor
	Hath leap'd into my seat; the thought whereof
	Doth, like a poisonous mineral, gnaw my inwards;
	And nothing can or shall content my soul
	Till I am even'd with him, wife for wife,
	Or failing so, yet that I put the Moor
	At least into a jealousy so strong
	That judgment cannot cure. Which thing to do,
	If this poor trash of Venice, whom I trash
	For his quick hunting, stand the putting on,
	I'll have our Michael Cassio on the hip,
	Abuse him to the Moor in the rank garb--
	For I fear Cassio with my night-cap too--
	Make the Moor thank me, love me and reward me.
	For making him egregiously an ass
	And practising upon his peace and quiet
	Even to madness. 'Tis here, but yet confused:
	Knavery's plain face is never seen tin used.

	[Exit]




	OTHELLO


ACT II



SCENE II	A street.


	[Enter a Herald with a proclamation; People
	following]

Herald	It is Othello's pleasure, our noble and valiant
	general, that, upon certain tidings now arrived,
	importing the mere perdition of the Turkish fleet,
	every man put himself into triumph; some to dance,
	some to make bonfires, each man to what sport and
	revels his addiction leads him: for, besides these
	beneficial news, it is the celebration of his
	nuptial. So much was his pleasure should be
	proclaimed. All offices are open, and there is full
	liberty of feasting from this present hour of five
	till the bell have told eleven. Heaven bless the
	isle of Cyprus and our noble general Othello!

	[Exeunt]




	OTHELLO


ACT II



SCENE III	A hall in the castle.


	[Enter OTHELLO, DESDEMONA, CASSIO, and Attendants]

OTHELLO	Good Michael, look you to the guard to-night:
	Let's teach ourselves that honourable stop,
	Not to outsport discretion.

CASSIO	Iago hath direction what to do;
	But, notwithstanding, with my personal eye
	Will I look to't.

OTHELLO	                  Iago is most honest.
	Michael, good night: to-morrow with your earliest
	Let me have speech with you.

	[To DESDEMONA]

		       Come, my dear love,
	The purchase made, the fruits are to ensue;
	That profit's yet to come 'tween me and you.
	Good night.

	[Exeunt OTHELLO, DESDEMONA, and Attendants]

	[Enter IAGO]

CASSIO	Welcome, Iago; we must to the watch.

IAGO	Not this hour, lieutenant; 'tis not yet ten o' the
	clock. Our general cast us thus early for the love
	of his Desdemona; who let us not therefore blame:
	he hath not yet made wanton the night with her; and
	she is sport for Jove.

CASSIO	She's a most exquisite lady.

IAGO	And, I'll warrant her, fun of game.

CASSIO	Indeed, she's a most fresh and delicate creature.

IAGO	What an eye she has! methinks it sounds a parley of
	provocation.

CASSIO	An inviting eye; and yet methinks right modest.

IAGO	And when she speaks, is it not an alarum to love?

CASSIO	She is indeed perfection.

IAGO	Well, happiness to their sheets! Come, lieutenant, I
	have a stoup of wine; and here without are a brace
	of Cyprus gallants that would fain have a measure to
	the health of black Othello.

CASSIO	Not to-night, good Iago: I have very poor and
	unhappy brains for drinking: I could well wish
	courtesy would invent some other custom of
	entertainment.

IAGO	O, they are our friends; but one cup: I'll drink for
	you.

CASSIO	I have drunk but one cup to-night, and that was
	craftily qualified too, and, behold, what innovation
	it makes here: I am unfortunate in the infirmity,
	and dare not task my weakness with any more.

IAGO	What, man! 'tis a night of revels: the gallants
	desire it.

CASSIO	Where are they?

IAGO	Here at the door; I pray you, call them in.

CASSIO	I'll do't; but it dislikes me.

	[Exit]

IAGO	If I can fasten but one cup upon him,
	With that which he hath drunk to-night already,
	He'll be as full of quarrel and offence
	As my young mistress' dog. Now, my sick fool Roderigo,
	Whom love hath turn'd almost the wrong side out,
	To Desdemona hath to-night caroused
	Potations pottle-deep; and he's to watch:
	Three lads of Cyprus, noble swelling spirits,
	That hold their honours in a wary distance,
	The very elements of this warlike isle,
	Have I to-night fluster'd with flowing cups,
	And they watch too. Now, 'mongst this flock of drunkards,
	Am I to put our Cassio in some action
	That may offend the isle.--But here they come:
	If consequence do but approve my dream,
	My boat sails freely, both with wind and stream.

	[Re-enter CASSIO; with him MONTANO and Gentlemen;
	servants following with wine]

CASSIO	'Fore God, they have given me a rouse already.

MONTANO	Good faith, a little one; not past a pint, as I am
	a soldier.

IAGO	Some wine, ho!

	[Sings]

	And let me the canakin clink, clink;
	And let me the canakin clink
	A soldier's a man;
	A life's but a span;
	Why, then, let a soldier drink.
	Some wine, boys!

CASSIO	'Fore God, an excellent song.

IAGO	I learned it in England, where, indeed, they are
	most potent in potting: your Dane, your German, and
	your swag-bellied Hollander--Drink, ho!--are nothing
	to your English.

CASSIO	Is your Englishman so expert in his drinking?

IAGO	Why, he drinks you, with facility, your Dane dead
	drunk; he sweats not to overthrow your Almain; he
	gives your Hollander a vomit, ere the next pottle
	can be filled.

CASSIO	To the health of our general!

MONTANO	I am for it, lieutenant; and I'll do you justice.

IAGO	O sweet England!
	King Stephen was a worthy peer,
	His breeches cost him but a crown;
	He held them sixpence all too dear,
	With that he call'd the tailor lown.
	He was a wight of high renown,
	And thou art but of low degree:
	'Tis pride that pulls the country down;
	Then take thine auld cloak about thee.
	Some wine, ho!

CASSIO	Why, this is a more exquisite song than the other.

IAGO	Will you hear't again?

CASSIO	No; for I hold him to be unworthy of his place that
	does those things. Well, God's above all; and there
	be souls must be saved, and there be souls must not be saved.

IAGO	It's true, good lieutenant.

CASSIO	For mine own part,--no offence to the general, nor
	any man of quality,--I hope to be saved.

IAGO	And so do I too, lieutenant.

CASSIO	Ay, but, by your leave, not before me; the
	lieutenant is to be saved before the ancient. Let's
	have no more of this; let's to our affairs.--Forgive
	us our sins!--Gentlemen, let's look to our business.
	Do not think, gentlemen. I am drunk: this is my
	ancient; this is my right hand, and this is my left:
	I am not drunk now; I can stand well enough, and
	speak well enough.

All	Excellent well.

CASSIO	Why, very well then; you must not think then that I am drunk.

	[Exit]

MONTANO	To the platform, masters; come, let's set the watch.

IAGO	You see this fellow that is gone before;
	He is a soldier fit to stand by Caesar
	And give direction: and do but see his vice;
	'Tis to his virtue a just equinox,
	The one as long as the other: 'tis pity of him.
	I fear the trust Othello puts him in.
	On some odd time of his infirmity,
	Will shake this island.

MONTANO	But is he often thus?

IAGO	'Tis evermore the prologue to his sleep:
	He'll watch the horologe a double set,
	If drink rock not his cradle.

MONTANO	It were well
	The general were put in mind of it.
	Perhaps he sees it not; or his good nature
	Prizes the virtue that appears in Cassio,
	And looks not on his evils: is not this true?

	[Enter RODERIGO]

IAGO	[Aside to him]  How now, Roderigo!
	I pray you, after the lieutenant; go.

	[Exit RODERIGO]

MONTANO	And 'tis great pity that the noble Moor
	Should hazard such a place as his own second
	With one of an ingraft infirmity:
	It were an honest action to say
	So to the Moor.

IAGO	                  Not I, for this fair island:
	I do love Cassio well; and would do much
	To cure him of this evil--But, hark! what noise?

	[Cry within: 'Help! help!']

	[Re-enter CASSIO, driving in RODERIGO]

CASSIO	You rogue! you rascal!

MONTANO	What's the matter, lieutenant?

CASSIO	A knave teach me my duty!
	I'll beat the knave into a twiggen bottle.

RODERIGO	Beat me!

CASSIO	       Dost thou prate, rogue?

	[Striking RODERIGO]

MONTANO	Nay, good lieutenant;

	[Staying him]

	I pray you, sir, hold your hand.

CASSIO	Let me go, sir,
	Or I'll knock you o'er the mazzard.

MONTANO	Come, come,
		                  you're drunk.

CASSIO	Drunk!

	[They fight]

IAGO	[Aside to RODERIGO]  Away, I say; go out, and cry a mutiny.

	[Exit RODERIGO]

	Nay, good lieutenant,--alas, gentlemen;--
	Help, ho!--Lieutenant,--sir,--Montano,--sir;
	Help, masters!--Here's a goodly watch indeed!

	[Bell rings]

	Who's that which rings the bell?--Diablo, ho!
	The town will rise: God's will, lieutenant, hold!
	You will be shamed for ever.

	[Re-enter OTHELLO and Attendants]

OTHELLO	What is the matter here?

MONTANO	'Zounds, I bleed still; I am hurt to the death.

	[Faints]

OTHELLO	Hold, for your lives!

IAGO	Hold, ho! Lieutenant,--sir--Montano,--gentlemen,--
	Have you forgot all sense of place and duty?
	Hold! the general speaks to you; hold, hold, for shame!

OTHELLO	Why, how now, ho! from whence ariseth this?
	Are we turn'd Turks, and to ourselves do that
	Which heaven hath forbid the Ottomites?
	For Christian shame, put by this barbarous brawl:
	He that stirs next to carve for his own rage
	Holds his soul light; he dies upon his motion.
	Silence that dreadful bell: it frights the isle
	From her propriety. What is the matter, masters?
	Honest Iago, that look'st dead with grieving,
	Speak, who began this? on thy love, I charge thee.

IAGO	I do not know: friends all but now, even now,
	In quarter, and in terms like bride and groom
	Devesting them for bed; and then, but now--
	As if some planet had unwitted men--
	Swords out, and tilting one at other's breast,
	In opposition bloody. I cannot speak
	Any beginning to this peevish odds;
	And would in action glorious I had lost
	Those legs that brought me to a part of it!

OTHELLO	How comes it, Michael, you are thus forgot?

CASSIO	I pray you, pardon me; I cannot speak.

OTHELLO	Worthy Montano, you were wont be civil;
	The gravity and stillness of your youth
	The world hath noted, and your name is great
	In mouths of wisest censure: what's the matter,
	That you unlace your reputation thus
	And spend your rich opinion for the name
	Of a night-brawler? give me answer to it.

MONTANO	Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger:
	Your officer, Iago, can inform you,--
	While I spare speech, which something now
	offends me,--
	Of all that I do know: nor know I aught
	By me that's said or done amiss this night;
	Unless self-charity be sometimes a vice,
	And to defend ourselves it be a sin
	When violence assails us.

OTHELLO	Now, by heaven,
	My blood begins my safer guides to rule;
	And passion, having my best judgment collied,
	Assays to lead the way: if I once stir,
	Or do but lift this arm, the best of you
	Shall sink in my rebuke. Give me to know
	How this foul rout began, who set it on;
	And he that is approved in this offence,
	Though he had twinn'd with me, both at a birth,
	Shall lose me. What! in a town of war,
	Yet wild, the people's hearts brimful of fear,
	To manage private and domestic quarrel,
	In night, and on the court and guard of safety!
	'Tis monstrous. Iago, who began't?

MONTANO	If partially affined, or leagued in office,
	Thou dost deliver more or less than truth,
	Thou art no soldier.

IAGO	Touch me not so near:
	I had rather have this tongue cut from my mouth
	Than it should do offence to Michael Cassio;
	Yet, I persuade myself, to speak the truth
	Shall nothing wrong him. Thus it is, general.
	Montano and myself being in speech,
	There comes a fellow crying out for help:
	And Cassio following him with determined sword,
	To execute upon him. Sir, this gentleman
	Steps in to Cassio, and entreats his pause:
	Myself the crying fellow did pursue,
	Lest by his clamour--as it so fell out--
	The town might fall in fright: he, swift of foot,
	Outran my purpose; and I return'd the rather
	For that I heard the clink and fall of swords,
	And Cassio high in oath; which till to-night
	I ne'er might say before. When I came back--
	For this was brief--I found them close together,
	At blow and thrust; even as again they were
	When you yourself did part them.
	More of this matter cannot I report:
	But men are men; the best sometimes forget:
	Though Cassio did some little wrong to him,
	As men in rage strike those that wish them best,
	Yet surely Cassio, I believe, received
	From him that fled some strange indignity,
	Which patience could not pass.

OTHELLO	I know, Iago,
	Thy honesty and love doth mince this matter,
	Making it light to Cassio. Cassio, I love thee
	But never more be officer of mine.

	[Re-enter DESDEMONA, attended]

	Look, if my gentle love be not raised up!
	I'll make thee an example.

DESDEMONA	What's the matter?

OTHELLO	All's well now, sweeting; come away to bed.
	Sir, for your hurts, myself will be your surgeon:
	Lead him off.

	[To MONTANO, who is led off]

	Iago, look with care about the town,
	And silence those whom this vile brawl distracted.
	Come, Desdemona: 'tis the soldiers' life
	To have their balmy slumbers waked with strife.

	[Exeunt all but IAGO and CASSIO]

IAGO	What, are you hurt, lieutenant?

CASSIO	Ay, past all surgery.

IAGO	Marry, heaven forbid!

CASSIO	Reputation, reputation, reputation! O, I have lost
	my reputation! I have lost the immortal part of
	myself, and what remains is bestial. My reputation,
	Iago, my reputation!

IAGO	As I am an honest man, I thought you had received
	some bodily wound; there is more sense in that than
	in reputation. Reputation is an idle and most false
	imposition: oft got without merit, and lost without
	deserving: you have lost no reputation at all,
	unless you repute yourself such a loser. What, man!
	there are ways to recover the general again: you
	are but now cast in his mood, a punishment more in
	policy than in malice, even so as one would beat his
	offenceless dog to affright an imperious lion: sue
	to him again, and he's yours.

CASSIO	I will rather sue to be despised than to deceive so
	good a commander with so slight, so drunken, and so
	indiscreet an officer. Drunk? and speak parrot?
	and squabble? swagger? swear? and discourse
	fustian with one's own shadow? O thou invisible
	spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by,
	let us call thee devil!

IAGO	What was he that you followed with your sword? What
	had he done to you?

CASSIO	I know not.

IAGO	Is't possible?

CASSIO	I remember a mass of things, but nothing distinctly;
	a quarrel, but nothing wherefore. O God, that men
	should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away
	their brains! that we should, with joy, pleasance
	revel and applause, transform ourselves into beasts!

IAGO	Why, but you are now well enough: how came you thus
	recovered?

CASSIO	It hath pleased the devil drunkenness to give place
	to the devil wrath; one unperfectness shows me
	another, to make me frankly despise myself.

IAGO	Come, you are too severe a moraler: as the time,
	the place, and the condition of this country
	stands, I could heartily wish this had not befallen;
	but, since it is as it is, mend it for your own good.

CASSIO	I will ask him for my place again; he shall tell me
	I am a drunkard! Had I as many mouths as Hydra,
	such an answer would stop them all. To be now a
	sensible man, by and by a fool, and presently a
	beast! O strange! Every inordinate cup is
	unblessed and the ingredient is a devil.

IAGO	Come, come, good wine is a good familiar creature,
	if it be well used: exclaim no more against it.
	And, good lieutenant, I think you think I love you.

CASSIO	I have well approved it, sir. I drunk!

IAGO	You or any man living may be drunk! at a time, man.
	I'll tell you what you shall do. Our general's wife
	is now the general: may say so in this respect, for
	that he hath devoted and given up himself to the
	contemplation, mark, and denotement of her parts and
	graces: confess yourself freely to her; importune
	her help to put you in your place again: she is of
	so free, so kind, so apt, so blessed a disposition,
	she holds it a vice in her goodness not to do more
	than she is requested: this broken joint between
	you and her husband entreat her to splinter; and, my
	fortunes against any lay worth naming, this
	crack of your love shall grow stronger than it was before.

CASSIO	You advise me well.

IAGO	I protest, in the sincerity of love and honest kindness.

CASSIO	I think it freely; and betimes in the morning I will
	beseech the virtuous Desdemona to undertake for me:
	I am desperate of my fortunes if they cheque me here.

IAGO	You are in the right. Good night, lieutenant; I
	must to the watch.

CASSIO: Good night, honest Iago.

	[Exit]

IAGO	And what's he then that says I play the villain?
	When this advice is free I give and honest,
	Probal to thinking and indeed the course
	To win the Moor again? For 'tis most easy
	The inclining Desdemona to subdue
	In any honest suit: she's framed as fruitful
	As the free elements. And then for her
	To win the Moor--were't to renounce his baptism,
	All seals and symbols of redeemed sin,
	His soul is so enfetter'd to her love,
	That she may make, unmake, do what she list,
	Even as her appetite shall play the god
	With his weak function. How am I then a villain
	To counsel Cassio to this parallel course,
	Directly to his good? Divinity of hell!
	When devils will the blackest sins put on,
	They do suggest at first with heavenly shows,
	As I do now: for whiles this honest fool
	Plies Desdemona to repair his fortunes
	And she for him pleads strongly to the Moor,
	I'll pour this pestilence into his ear,
	That she repeals him for her body's lust;
	And by how much she strives to do him good,
	She shall undo her credit with the Moor.
	So will I turn her virtue into pitch,
	And out of her own goodness make the net
	That shall enmesh them all.

	[Re-enter RODERIGO]

		      How now, Roderigo!

RODERIGO	I do follow here in the chase, not like a hound that
	hunts, but one that fills up the cry. My money is
	almost spent; I have been to-night exceedingly well
	cudgelled; and I think the issue will be, I shall
	have so much experience for my pains, and so, with
	no money at all and a little more wit, return again to Venice.

IAGO	How poor are they that have not patience!
	What wound did ever heal but by degrees?
	Thou know'st we work by wit, and not by witchcraft;
	And wit depends on dilatory time.
	Does't not go well? Cassio hath beaten thee.
	And thou, by that small hurt, hast cashier'd Cassio:
	Though other things grow fair against the sun,
	Yet fruits that blossom first will first be ripe:
	Content thyself awhile. By the mass, 'tis morning;
	Pleasure and action make the hours seem short.
	Retire thee; go where thou art billeted:
	Away, I say; thou shalt know more hereafter:
	Nay, get thee gone.

	[Exit RODERIGO]

	Two things are to be done:
	My wife must move for Cassio to her mistress;
	I'll set her on;
	Myself the while to draw the Moor apart,
	And bring him jump when he may Cassio find
	Soliciting his wife: ay, that's the way
	Dull not device by coldness and delay.

	[Exit]




	OTHELLO


ACT III



SCENE I	Before the castle.


	[Enter CASSIO and some Musicians]

CASSIO	Masters, play here; I will content your pains;
	Something that's brief; and bid 'Good morrow, general.'

	[Music]

	[Enter Clown]

Clown	Why masters, have your instruments been in Naples,
	that they speak i' the nose thus?

First Musician	How, sir, how!

Clown	Are these, I pray you, wind-instruments?

First Musician	Ay, marry, are they, sir.

Clown	O, thereby hangs a tail.

First Musician	Whereby hangs a tale, sir?

Clown	Marry. sir, by many a wind-instrument that I know.
	But, masters, here's money for you: and the general
	so likes your music, that he desires you, for love's
	sake, to make no more noise with it.

First Musician	Well, sir, we will not.

Clown	If you have any music that may not be heard, to't
	again: but, as they say to hear music the general
	does not greatly care.

First Musician	We have none such, sir.

Clown	Then put up your pipes in your bag, for I'll away:
	go; vanish into air; away!

	[Exeunt Musicians]

CASSIO	Dost thou hear, my honest friend?

Clown	No, I hear not your honest friend; I hear you.

CASSIO	Prithee, keep up thy quillets. There's a poor piece
	of gold for thee: if the gentlewoman that attends
	the general's wife be stirring, tell her there's
	one Cassio entreats her a little favour of speech:
	wilt thou do this?

Clown	She is stirring, sir: if she will stir hither, I
	shall seem to notify unto her.

CASSIO	Do, good my friend.

	[Exit Clown]

	[Enter IAGO]

	In happy time, Iago.

IAGO	You have not been a-bed, then?

CASSIO	Why, no; the day had broke
	Before we parted. I have made bold, Iago,
	To send in to your wife: my suit to her
	Is, that she will to virtuous Desdemona
	Procure me some access.

IAGO	I'll send her to you presently;
	And I'll devise a mean to draw the Moor
	Out of the way, that your converse and business
	May be more free.

CASSIO	I humbly thank you for't.

	[Exit IAGO]

		    I never knew
	A Florentine more kind and honest.

	[Enter EMILIA]

EMILIA	Good morrow, good Lieutenant: I am sorry
	For your displeasure; but all will sure be well.
	The general and his wife are talking of it;
	And she speaks for you stoutly: the Moor replies,
	That he you hurt is of great fame in Cyprus,
	And great affinity, and that in wholesome wisdom
	He might not but refuse you; but he protests he loves you
	And needs no other suitor but his likings
	To take the safest occasion by the front
	To bring you in again.

CASSIO	Yet, I beseech you,
	If you think fit, or that it may be done,
	Give me advantage of some brief discourse
	With Desdemona alone.

EMILIA	Pray you, come in;
	I will bestow you where you shall have time
	To speak your bosom freely.

CASSIO	I am much bound to you.

	[Exeunt]




	OTHELLO


ACT III



SCENE II	A room in the castle.


	[Enter OTHELLO, IAGO, and Gentlemen]

OTHELLO	These letters give, Iago, to the pilot;
	And by him do my duties to the senate:
	That done, I will be walking on the works;
	Repair there to me.

IAGO	Well, my good lord, I'll do't.

OTHELLO	This fortification, gentlemen, shall we see't?

Gentleman	We'll wait upon your lordship.

	[Exeunt]




	OTHELLO


ACT III



SCENE III	The garden of the castle.


	[Enter DESDEMONA, CASSIO, and EMILIA]

DESDEMONA	Be thou assured, good Cassio, I will do
	All my abilities in thy behalf.

EMILIA	Good madam, do: I warrant it grieves my husband,
	As if the case were his.

DESDEMONA	O, that's an honest fellow. Do not doubt, Cassio,
	But I will have my lord and you again
	As friendly as you were.

CASSIO	Bounteous madam,
	Whatever shall become of Michael Cassio,
	He's never any thing but your true servant.

DESDEMONA	I know't; I thank you. You do love my lord:
	You have known him long; and be you well assured
	He shall in strangeness stand no further off
	Than in a polite distance.

CASSIO	Ay, but, lady,
	That policy may either last so long,
	Or feed upon such nice and waterish diet,
	Or breed itself so out of circumstance,
	That, I being absent and my place supplied,
	My general will forget my love and service.

DESDEMONA	Do not doubt that; before Emilia here
	I give thee warrant of thy place: assure thee,
	If I do vow a friendship, I'll perform it
	To the last article: my lord shall never rest;
	I'll watch him tame and talk him out of patience;
	His bed shall seem a school, his board a shrift;
	I'll intermingle every thing he does
	With Cassio's suit: therefore be merry, Cassio;
	For thy solicitor shall rather die
	Than give thy cause away.

EMILIA	Madam, here comes my lord.

CASSIO	Madam, I'll take my leave.

DESDEMONA	Why, stay, and hear me speak.

CASSIO	Madam, not now: I am very ill at ease,
	Unfit for mine own purposes.

DESDEMONA	Well, do your discretion.

	[Exit CASSIO]

	[Enter OTHELLO and IAGO]

IAGO	Ha! I like not that.

OTHELLO	What dost thou say?

IAGO	Nothing, my lord: or if--I know not what.

OTHELLO	Was not that Cassio parted from my wife?

IAGO	Cassio, my lord! No, sure, I cannot think it,
	That he would steal away so guilty-like,
	Seeing you coming.

OTHELLO	                  I do believe 'twas he.

DESDEMONA	How now, my lord!
	I have been talking with a suitor here,
	A man that languishes in your displeasure.

OTHELLO	Who is't you mean?

DESDEMONA	Why, your lieutenant, Cassio. Good my lord,
	If I have any grace or power to move you,
	His present reconciliation take;
	For if he be not one that truly loves you,
	That errs in ignorance and not in cunning,
	I have no judgment in an honest face:
	I prithee, call him back.

OTHELLO	Went he hence now?

DESDEMONA	Ay, sooth; so humbled
	That he hath left part of his grief with me,
	To suffer with him. Good love, call him back.

OTHELLO	Not now, sweet Desdemona; some other time.

DESDEMONA	But shall't be shortly?

OTHELLO	The sooner, sweet, for you.

DESDEMONA	Shall't be to-night at supper?

OTHELLO	No, not to-night.

DESDEMONA	To-morrow dinner, then?

OTHELLO	I shall not dine at home;
	I meet the captains at the citadel.

DESDEMONA	Why, then, to-morrow night; or Tuesday morn;
	On Tuesday noon, or night; on Wednesday morn:
	I prithee, name the time, but let it not
	Exceed three days: in faith, he's penitent;
	And yet his trespass, in our common reason--
	Save that, they say, the wars must make examples
	Out of their best--is not almost a fault
	To incur a private cheque. When shall he come?
	Tell me, Othello: I wonder in my soul,
	What you would ask me, that I should deny,
	Or stand so mammering on. What! Michael Cassio,
	That came a-wooing with you, and so many a time,
	When I have spoke of you dispraisingly,
	Hath ta'en your part; to have so much to do
	To bring him in! Trust me, I could do much,--

OTHELLO	Prithee, no more: let him come when he will;
	I will deny thee nothing.

DESDEMONA	Why, this is not a boon;
	'Tis as I should entreat you wear your gloves,
	Or feed on nourishing dishes, or keep you warm,
	Or sue to you to do a peculiar profit
	To your own person: nay, when I have a suit
	Wherein I mean to touch your love indeed,
	It shall be full of poise and difficult weight
	And fearful to be granted.

OTHELLO	I will deny thee nothing:
	Whereon, I do beseech thee, grant me this,
	To leave me but a little to myself.

DESDEMONA	Shall I deny you? no: farewell, my lord.

OTHELLO	Farewell, my Desdemona: I'll come to thee straight.

DESDEMONA	Emilia, come. Be as your fancies teach you;
	Whate'er you be, I am obedient.

	[Exeunt DESDEMONA and EMILIA]

OTHELLO	Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul,
	But I do love thee! and when I love thee not,
	Chaos is come again.

IAGO	My noble lord--

OTHELLO	                  What dost thou say, Iago?

IAGO	Did Michael Cassio, when you woo'd my lady,
	Know of your love?

OTHELLO	He did, from first to last: why dost thou ask?

IAGO	But for a satisfaction of my thought;
	No further harm.

OTHELLO	                  Why of thy thought, Iago?

IAGO	I did not think he had been acquainted with her.

OTHELLO	O, yes; and went between us very oft.

IAGO	Indeed!

OTHELLO	Indeed! ay, indeed: discern'st thou aught in that?
	Is he not honest?

IAGO	Honest, my lord!

OTHELLO	                  Honest! ay, honest.

IAGO	My lord, for aught I know.

OTHELLO	What dost thou think?

IAGO	Think, my lord!

OTHELLO	Think, my lord!
	By heaven, he echoes me,
	As if there were some monster in his thought
	Too hideous to be shown. Thou dost mean something:
	I heard thee say even now, thou likedst not that,
	When Cassio left my wife: what didst not like?
	And when I told thee he was of my counsel
	In my whole course of wooing, thou criedst 'Indeed!'
	And didst contract and purse thy brow together,
	As if thou then hadst shut up in thy brain
	Some horrible conceit: if thou dost love me,
	Show me thy thought.

IAGO	My lord, you know I love you.

OTHELLO	I think thou dost;
	And, for I know thou'rt full of love and honesty,
	And weigh'st thy words before thou givest them breath,
	Therefore these stops of thine fright me the more:
	For such things in a false disloyal knave
	Are tricks of custom, but in a man that's just
	They are close delations, working from the heart
	That passion cannot rule.

IAGO	For Michael Cassio,
	I dare be sworn I think that he is honest.

OTHELLO	I think so too.

IAGO	                  Men should be what they seem;
	Or those that be not, would they might seem none!

OTHELLO	Certain, men should be what they seem.

IAGO	Why, then, I think Cassio's an honest man.

OTHELLO	Nay, yet there's more in this:
	I prithee, speak to me as to thy thinkings,
	As thou dost ruminate, and give thy worst of thoughts
	The worst of words.

IAGO	Good my lord, pardon me:
	Though I am bound to every act of duty,
	I am not bound to that all slaves are free to.
	Utter my thoughts? Why, say they are vile and false;
	As where's that palace whereinto foul things
	Sometimes intrude not? who has a breast so pure,
	But some uncleanly apprehensions
	Keep leets and law-days and in session sit
	With meditations lawful?

OTHELLO	Thou dost conspire against thy friend, Iago,
	If thou but think'st him wrong'd and makest his ear
	A stranger to thy thoughts.

IAGO	I do beseech you--
	Though I perchance am vicious in my guess,
	As, I confess, it is my nature's plague
	To spy into abuses, and oft my jealousy
	Shapes faults that are not--that your wisdom yet,
	From one that so imperfectly conceits,
	Would take no notice, nor build yourself a trouble
	Out of his scattering and unsure observance.
	It were not for your quiet nor your good,
	Nor for my manhood, honesty, or wisdom,
	To let you know my thoughts.

OTHELLO	What dost thou mean?

IAGO	Good name in man and woman, dear my lord,
	Is the immediate jewel of their souls:
	Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing;
	'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands:
	But he that filches from me my good name
	Robs me of that which not enriches him
	And makes me poor indeed.

OTHELLO	By heaven, I'll know thy thoughts.

IAGO	You cannot, if my heart were in your hand;
	Nor shall not, whilst 'tis in my custody.

OTHELLO	Ha!

IAGO	O, beware, my lord, of jealousy;
	It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock
	The meat it feeds on; that cuckold lives in bliss
	Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger;
	But, O, what damned minutes tells he o'er
	Who dotes, yet doubts, suspects, yet strongly loves!

OTHELLO	O misery!

IAGO	Poor and content is rich and rich enough,
	But riches fineless is as poor as winter
	To him that ever fears he shall be poor.
	Good heaven, the souls of all my tribe defend
	From jealousy!

OTHELLO	                  Why, why is this?
	Think'st thou I'ld make a lie of jealousy,
	To follow still the changes of the moon
	With fresh suspicions? No; to be once in doubt
	Is once to be resolved: exchange me for a goat,
	When I shall turn the business of my soul
	To such exsufflicate and blown surmises,
	Matching thy inference. 'Tis not to make me jealous
	To say my wife is fair, feeds well, loves company,
	Is free of speech, sings, plays and dances well;
	Where virtue is, these are more virtuous:
	Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw
	The smallest fear or doubt of her revolt;
	For she had eyes, and chose me. No, Iago;
	I'll see before I doubt; when I doubt, prove;
	And on the proof, there is no more but this,--
	Away at once with love or jealousy!

IAGO	I am glad of it; for now I shall have reason
	To show the love and duty that I bear you
	With franker spirit: therefore, as I am bound,
	Receive it from me. I speak not yet of proof.
	Look to your wife; observe her well with Cassio;
	Wear your eye thus, not jealous nor secure:
	I would not have your free and noble nature,
	Out of self-bounty, be abused; look to't:
	I know our country disposition well;
	In Venice they do let heaven see the pranks
	They dare not show their husbands; their best conscience
	Is not to leave't undone, but keep't unknown.

OTHELLO	Dost thou say so?

IAGO	She did deceive her father, marrying you;
	And when she seem'd to shake and fear your looks,
	She loved them most.

OTHELLO	And so she did.

IAGO	Why, go to then;
	She that, so young, could give out such a seeming,
	To seal her father's eyes up close as oak-
	He thought 'twas witchcraft--but I am much to blame;
	I humbly do beseech you of your pardon
	For too much loving you.

OTHELLO	I am bound to thee for ever.

IAGO	I see this hath a little dash'd your spirits.

OTHELLO	Not a jot, not a jot.

IAGO	I' faith, I fear it has.
	I hope you will consider what is spoke
	Comes from my love. But I do see you're moved:
	I am to pray you not to strain my speech
	To grosser issues nor to larger reach
	Than to suspicion.

OTHELLO	I will not.

IAGO	          Should you do so, my lord,
	My speech should fall into such vile success
	As my thoughts aim not at. Cassio's my worthy friend--
	My lord, I see you're moved.

OTHELLO	No, not much moved:
	I do not think but Desdemona's honest.

IAGO	Long live she so! and long live you to think so!

OTHELLO	And yet, how nature erring from itself,--

IAGO	Ay, there's the point: as--to be bold with you--
	Not to affect many proposed matches
	Of her own clime, complexion, and degree,
	Whereto we see in all things nature tends--
	Foh! one may smell in such a will most rank,
	Foul disproportion thoughts unnatural.
	But pardon me; I do not in position
	Distinctly speak of her; though I may fear
	Her will, recoiling to her better judgment,
	May fall to match you with her country forms
	And happily repent.

OTHELLO	Farewell, farewell:
	If more thou dost perceive, let me know more;
	Set on thy wife to observe: leave me, Iago:

IAGO	[Going]  My lord, I take my leave.

OTHELLO	Why did I marry? This honest creature doubtless
	Sees and knows more, much more, than he unfolds.

IAGO	[Returning]  My lord, I would I might entreat
	your honour
	To scan this thing no further; leave it to time:
	Though it be fit that Cassio have his place,
	For sure, he fills it up with great ability,
	Yet, if you please to hold him off awhile,
	You shall by that perceive him and his means:
	Note, if your lady strain his entertainment
	With any strong or vehement importunity;
	Much will be seen in that. In the mean time,
	Let me be thought too busy in my fears--
	As worthy cause I have to fear I am--
	And hold her free, I do beseech your honour.

OTHELLO	Fear not my government.

IAGO	I once more take my leave.

	[Exit]

OTHELLO	This fellow's of exceeding honesty,
	And knows all qualities, with a learned spirit,
	Of human dealings. If I do prove her haggard,
	Though that her jesses were my dear heartstrings,
	I'ld whistle her off and let her down the wind,
	To pray at fortune. Haply, for I am black
	And have not those soft parts of conversation
	That chamberers have, or for I am declined
	Into the vale of years,--yet that's not much--
	She's gone. I am abused; and my relief
	Must be to loathe her. O curse of marriage,
	That we can call these delicate creatures ours,
	And not their appetites! I had rather be a toad,
	And live upon the vapour of a dungeon,
	Than keep a corner in the thing I love
	For others' uses. Yet, 'tis the plague of great ones;
	Prerogatived are they less than the base;
	'Tis destiny unshunnable, like death:
	Even then this forked plague is fated to us
	When we do quicken. Desdemona comes:

	[Re-enter DESDEMONA and EMILIA]

	If she be false, O, then heaven mocks itself!
	I'll not believe't.

DESDEMONA	How now, my dear Othello!
	Your dinner, and the generous islanders
	By you invited, do attend your presence.

OTHELLO	I am to blame.

DESDEMONA	                  Why do you speak so faintly?
	Are you not well?

OTHELLO	I have a pain upon my forehead here.

DESDEMONA	'Faith, that's with watching; 'twill away again:
	Let me but bind it hard, within this hour
	It will be well.

OTHELLO	                  Your napkin is too little:

	[He puts the handkerchief from him; and it drops]

	Let it alone. Come, I'll go in with you.

DESDEMONA	I am very sorry that you are not well.

	[Exeunt OTHELLO and DESDEMONA]

EMILIA	I am glad I have found this napkin:
	This was her first remembrance from the Moor:
	My wayward husband hath a hundred times
	Woo'd me to steal it; but she so loves the token,
	For he conjured her she should ever keep it,
	That she reserves it evermore about her
	To kiss and talk to. I'll have the work ta'en out,
	And give't Iago: what he will do with it
	Heaven knows, not I;
	I nothing but to please his fantasy.

	[Re-enter Iago]

IAGO	How now! what do you here alone?

EMILIA	Do not you chide; I have a thing for you.

IAGO	A thing for me? it is a common thing--

EMILIA	Ha!

IAGO	To have a foolish wife.

EMILIA	O, is that all? What will you give me now
	For the same handkerchief?

IAGO	What handkerchief?

EMILIA	What handkerchief?
	Why, that the Moor first gave to Desdemona;
	That which so often you did bid me steal.

IAGO	Hast stol'n it from her?

EMILIA	No, 'faith; she let it drop by negligence.
	And, to the advantage, I, being here, took't up.
	Look, here it is.

IAGO	                  A good wench; give it me.

EMILIA	What will you do with 't, that you have been
	so earnest
	To have me filch it?

IAGO	[Snatching it]  Why, what's that to you?

EMILIA	If it be not for some purpose of import,
	Give't me again: poor lady, she'll run mad
	When she shall lack it.

IAGO	Be not acknown on 't; I have use for it.
	Go, leave me.

	[Exit EMILIA]

	I will in Cassio's lodging lose this napkin,
	And let him find it. Trifles light as air
	Are to the jealous confirmations strong
	As proofs of holy writ: this may do something.
	The Moor already changes with my poison:
	Dangerous conceits are, in their natures, poisons.
	Which at the first are scarce found to distaste,
	But with a little act upon the blood.
	Burn like the mines of Sulphur. I did say so:
	Look, where he comes!

	[Re-enter OTHELLO]

		Not poppy, nor mandragora,
	Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world,
	Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep
	Which thou owedst yesterday.

OTHELLO	Ha! ha! false to me?

IAGO	Why, how now, general! no more of that.

OTHELLO	Avaunt! be gone! thou hast set me on the rack:
	I swear 'tis better to be much abused
	Than but to know't a little.

IAGO	How now, my lord!

OTHELLO	What sense had I of her stol'n hours of lust?
	I saw't not, thought it not, it harm'd not me:
	I slept the next night well, was free and merry;
	I found not Cassio's kisses on her lips:
	He that is robb'd, not wanting what is stol'n,
	Let him not know't, and he's not robb'd at all.

IAGO	I am sorry to hear this.

OTHELLO	I had been happy, if the general camp,
	Pioners and all, had tasted her sweet body,
	So I had nothing known. O, now, for ever
	Farewell the tranquil mind! farewell content!
	Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars,
	That make ambition virtue! O, farewell!
	Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump,
	The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife,
	The royal banner, and all quality,
	Pride, pomp and circumstance of glorious war!
	And, O you mortal engines, whose rude throats
	The immortal Jove's dead clamours counterfeit,
	Farewell! Othello's occupation's gone!

IAGO	Is't possible, my lord?

OTHELLO	Villain, be sure thou prove my love a whore,
	Be sure of it; give me the ocular proof:
	Or by the worth of man's eternal soul,
	Thou hadst been better have been born a dog
	Than answer my waked wrath!

IAGO	Is't come to this?

OTHELLO	Make me to see't; or, at the least, so prove it,
	That the probation bear no hinge nor loop
	To hang a doubt on; or woe upon thy life!

IAGO	My noble lord,--

OTHELLO	If thou dost slander her and torture me,
	Never pray more; abandon all remorse;
	On horror's head horrors accumulate;
	Do deeds to make heaven weep, all earth amazed;
	For nothing canst thou to damnation add
	Greater than that.

IAGO	                  O grace! O heaven forgive me!
	Are you a man? have you a soul or sense?
	God be wi' you; take mine office. O wretched fool.
	That livest to make thine honesty a vice!
	O monstrous world! Take note, take note, O world,
	To be direct and honest is not safe.
	I thank you for this profit; and from hence
	I'll love no friend, sith love breeds such offence.

OTHELLO	Nay, stay: thou shouldst be honest.

IAGO	I should be wise, for honesty's a fool
	And loses that it works for.

OTHELLO	By the world,
	I think my wife be honest and think she is not;
	I think that thou art just and think thou art not.
	I'll have some proof. Her name, that was as fresh
	As Dian's visage, is now begrimed and black
	As mine own face. If there be cords, or knives,
	Poison, or fire, or suffocating streams,
	I'll not endure it. Would I were satisfied!

IAGO	I see, sir, you are eaten up with passion:
	I do repent me that I put it to you.
	You would be satisfied?

OTHELLO	Would! nay, I will.

IAGO	And may: but, how? how satisfied, my lord?
	Would you, the supervisor, grossly gape on--
	Behold her topp'd?

OTHELLO	                  Death and damnation! O!

IAGO	It were a tedious difficulty, I think,
	To bring them to that prospect: damn them then,
	If ever mortal eyes do see them bolster
	More than their own! What then? how then?
	What shall I say? Where's satisfaction?
	It is impossible you should see this,
	Were they as prime as goats, as hot as monkeys,
	As salt as wolves in pride, and fools as gross
	As ignorance made drunk. But yet, I say,
	If imputation and strong circumstances,
	Which lead directly to the door of truth,
	Will give you satisfaction, you may have't.

OTHELLO	Give me a living reason she's disloyal.

IAGO	I do not like the office:
	But, sith I am enter'd in this cause so far,
	Prick'd to't by foolish honesty and love,
	I will go on. I lay with Cassio lately;
	And, being troubled with a raging tooth,
	I could not sleep.
	There are a kind of men so loose of soul,
	That in their sleeps will mutter their affairs:
	One of this kind is Cassio:
	In sleep I heard him say 'Sweet Desdemona,
	Let us be wary, let us hide our loves;'
	And then, sir, would he gripe and wring my hand,
	Cry 'O sweet creature!' and then kiss me hard,
	As if he pluck'd up kisses by the roots
	That grew upon my lips: then laid his leg
	Over my thigh, and sigh'd, and kiss'd; and then
	Cried 'Cursed fate that gave thee to the Moor!'

OTHELLO	O monstrous! monstrous!

IAGO	Nay, this was but his dream.

OTHELLO	But this denoted a foregone conclusion:
	'Tis a shrewd doubt, though it be but a dream.

IAGO	And this may help to thicken other proofs
	That do demonstrate thinly.

OTHELLO	I'll tear her all to pieces.

IAGO	Nay, but be wise: yet we see nothing done;
	She may be honest yet. Tell me but this,
	Have you not sometimes seen a handkerchief
	Spotted with strawberries in your wife's hand?

OTHELLO	I gave her such a one; 'twas my first gift.

IAGO	I know not that; but such a handkerchief--
	I am sure it was your wife's--did I to-day
	See Cassio wipe his beard with.

OTHELLO	If it be that--

IAGO	If it be that, or any that was hers,
	It speaks against her with the other proofs.

OTHELLO	O, that the slave had forty thousand lives!
	One is too poor, too weak for my revenge.
	Now do I see 'tis true. Look here, Iago;
	All my fond love thus do I blow to heaven.
	'Tis gone.
	Arise, black vengeance, from thy hollow cell!
	Yield up, O love, thy crown and hearted throne
	To tyrannous hate! Swell, bosom, with thy fraught,
	For 'tis of aspics' tongues!

IAGO	Yet be content.

OTHELLO	O, blood, blood, blood!

IAGO	Patience, I say; your mind perhaps may change.

OTHELLO	Never, Iago: Like to the Pontic sea,
	Whose icy current and compulsive course
	Ne'er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on
	To the Propontic and the Hellespont,
	Even so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace,
	Shall ne'er look back, ne'er ebb to humble love,
	Till that a capable and wide revenge
	Swallow them up. Now, by yond marble heaven,

	[Kneels]

	In the due reverence of a sacred vow
	I here engage my words.

IAGO	Do not rise yet.

	[Kneels]

	Witness, you ever-burning lights above,
	You elements that clip us round about,
	Witness that here Iago doth give up
	The execution of his wit, hands, heart,
	To wrong'd Othello's service! Let him command,
	And to obey shall be in me remorse,
	What bloody business ever.

	[They rise]

OTHELLO	I greet thy love,
	Not with vain thanks, but with acceptance bounteous,
	And will upon the instant put thee to't:
	Within these three days let me hear thee say
	That Cassio's not alive.

IAGO	My friend is dead; 'tis done at your request:
	But let her live.

OTHELLO	Damn her, lewd minx! O, damn her!
	Come, go with me apart; I will withdraw,
	To furnish me with some swift means of death
	For the fair devil. Now art thou my lieutenant.

IAGO	I am your own for ever.

	[Exeunt]



	OTHELLO


ACT III



SCENE IV	Before the castle.


	[Enter DESDEMONA, EMILIA, and Clown]

DESDEMONA	Do you know, sirrah, where Lieutenant Cassio lies?

Clown	I dare not say he lies any where.

DESDEMONA	Why, man?

Clown	He's a soldier, and for one to say a soldier lies,
	is stabbing.

DESDEMONA	Go to: where lodges he?

Clown	To tell you where he lodges, is to tell you where I lie.

DESDEMONA	Can any thing be made of this?

Clown	I know not where he lodges, and for me to devise a
	lodging and say he lies here or he lies there, were
	to lie in mine own throat.

DESDEMONA	Can you inquire him out, and be edified by report?

Clown	I will catechise the world for him; that is, make
	questions, and by them answer.

DESDEMONA	Seek him, bid him come hither: tell him I have
	moved my lord on his behalf, and hope all will be well.

Clown	To do this is within the compass of man's wit: and
	therefore I will attempt the doing it.

	[Exit]

DESDEMONA	Where should I lose that handkerchief, Emilia?

EMILIA	I know not, madam.

DESDEMONA	Believe me, I had rather have lost my purse
	Full of crusadoes: and, but my noble Moor
	Is true of mind and made of no such baseness
	As jealous creatures are, it were enough
	To put him to ill thinking.

EMILIA	Is he not jealous?

DESDEMONA	Who, he? I think the sun where he was born
	Drew all such humours from him.

EMILIA	Look, where he comes.

DESDEMONA	I will not leave him now till Cassio
	Be call'd to him.

	[Enter OTHELLO]

	How is't with you, my lord

OTHELLO	Well, my good lady.

	[Aside]

	O, hardness to dissemble!--
	How do you, Desdemona?

DESDEMONA	Well, my good lord.

OTHELLO	Give me your hand: this hand is moist, my lady.

DESDEMONA	It yet hath felt no age nor known no sorrow.

OTHELLO	This argues fruitfulness and liberal heart:
	Hot, hot, and moist: this hand of yours requires
	A sequester from liberty, fasting and prayer,
	Much castigation, exercise devout;
	For here's a young and sweating devil here,
	That commonly rebels. 'Tis a good hand,
	A frank one.

DESDEMONA	                  You may, indeed, say so;
	For 'twas that hand that gave away my heart.

OTHELLO	A liberal hand: the hearts of old gave hands;
	But our new heraldry is hands, not hearts.

DESDEMONA	I cannot speak of this. Come now, your promise.

OTHELLO	What promise, chuck?

DESDEMONA	I have sent to bid Cassio come speak with you.

OTHELLO	I have a salt and sorry rheum offends me;
	Lend me thy handkerchief.

DESDEMONA	Here, my lord.

OTHELLO	That which I gave you.

DESDEMONA	I have it not about me.

OTHELLO	Not?

DESDEMONA	   No, indeed, my lord.

OTHELLO	That is a fault.

	That handkerchief
	Did an Egyptian to my mother give;
	She was a charmer, and could almost read
	The thoughts of people: she told her, while
	she kept it,
	'Twould make her amiable and subdue my father
	Entirely to her love, but if she lost it
	Or made gift of it, my father's eye
	Should hold her loathed and his spirits should hunt
	After new fancies: she, dying, gave it me;
	And bid me, when my fate would have me wive,
	To give it her. I did so: and take heed on't;
	Make it a darling like your precious eye;
	To lose't or give't away were such perdition
	As nothing else could match.

DESDEMONA	Is't possible?

OTHELLO	'Tis true: there's magic in the web of it:
	A sibyl, that had number'd in the world
	The sun to course two hundred compasses,
	In her prophetic fury sew'd the work;
	The worms were hallow'd that did breed the silk;
	And it was dyed in mummy which the skilful
	Conserved of maidens' hearts.

DESDEMONA	Indeed! is't true?

OTHELLO	Most veritable; therefore look to't well.

DESDEMONA	Then would to God that I had never seen't!

OTHELLO	Ha! wherefore?

DESDEMONA	Why do you speak so startingly and rash?

OTHELLO	Is't lost? is't gone? speak, is it out
	o' the way?

DESDEMONA	Heaven bless us!

OTHELLO	Say you?

DESDEMONA	It is not lost; but what an if it were?

OTHELLO	How!

DESDEMONA	I say, it is not lost.

OTHELLO	Fetch't, let me see't.

DESDEMONA	Why, so I can, sir, but I will not now.
	This is a trick to put me from my suit:
	Pray you, let Cassio be received again.

OTHELLO	Fetch me the handkerchief: my mind misgives.

DESDEMONA	Come, come;
	You'll never meet a more sufficient man.

OTHELLO	The handkerchief!

DESDEMONA	                  I pray, talk me of Cassio.

OTHELLO	The handkerchief!

DESDEMONA	                  A man that all his time
	Hath founded his good fortunes on your love,
	Shared dangers with you,--

OTHELLO	The handkerchief!

DESDEMONA	In sooth, you are to blame.

OTHELLO	Away!

	[Exit]

EMILIA	Is not this man jealous?

DESDEMONA	I ne'er saw this before.
	Sure, there's some wonder in this handkerchief:
	I am most unhappy in the loss of it.

EMILIA	'Tis not a year or two shows us a man:
	They are all but stomachs, and we all but food;
	To eat us hungerly, and when they are full,
	They belch us. Look you, Cassio and my husband!

	[Enter CASSIO and IAGO]

IAGO	There is no other way; 'tis she must do't:
	And, lo, the happiness! go, and importune her.

DESDEMONA	How now, good Cassio! what's the news with you?

CASSIO	Madam, my former suit: I do beseech you
	That by your virtuous means I may again
	Exist, and be a member of his love
	Whom I with all the office of my heart
	Entirely honour: I would not be delay'd.
	If my offence be of such mortal kind
	That nor my service past, nor present sorrows,
	Nor purposed merit in futurity,
	Can ransom me into his love again,
	But to know so must be my benefit;
	So shall I clothe me in a forced content,
	And shut myself up in some other course,
	To fortune's alms.

DESDEMONA	                  Alas, thrice-gentle Cassio!
	My advocation is not now in tune;
	My lord is not my lord; nor should I know him,
	Were he in favour as in humour alter'd.
	So help me every spirit sanctified,
	As I have spoken for you all my best
	And stood within the blank of his displeasure
	For my free speech! you must awhile be patient:
	What I can do I will; and more I will
	Than for myself I dare: let that suffice you.

IAGO	Is my lord angry?

EMILIA	                  He went hence but now,
	And certainly in strange unquietness.

IAGO	Can he be angry? I have seen the cannon,
	When it hath blown his ranks into the air,
	And, like the devil, from his very arm
	Puff'd his own brother:--and can he be angry?
	Something of moment then: I will go meet him:
	There's matter in't indeed, if he be angry.

DESDEMONA	I prithee, do so.

	[Exit IAGO]

	Something, sure, of state,
	Either from Venice, or some unhatch'd practise
	Made demonstrable here in Cyprus to him,
	Hath puddled his clear spirit: and in such cases
	Men's natures wrangle with inferior things,
	Though great ones are their object. 'Tis even so;
	For let our finger ache, and it indues
	Our other healthful members even to that sense
	Of pain: nay, we must think men are not gods,
	Nor of them look for such observances
	As fit the bridal. Beshrew me much, Emilia,
	I was, unhandsome warrior as I am,
	Arraigning his unkindness with my soul;
	But now I find I had suborn'd the witness,
	And he's indicted falsely.

EMILIA	Pray heaven it be state-matters, as you think,
	And no conception nor no jealous toy
	Concerning you.

DESDEMONA	Alas the day! I never gave him cause.

EMILIA	But jealous souls will not be answer'd so;
	They are not ever jealous for the cause,
	But jealous for they are jealous: 'tis a monster
	Begot upon itself, born on itself.

DESDEMONA	Heaven keep that monster from Othello's mind!

EMILIA	Lady, amen.

DESDEMONA	I will go seek him. Cassio, walk hereabout:
	If I do find him fit, I'll move your suit
	And seek to effect it to my uttermost.

CASSIO	I humbly thank your ladyship.

	[Exeunt DESDEMONA and EMILIA]

	[Enter BIANCA]

BIANCA	Save you, friend Cassio!

CASSIO	What make you from home?
	How is it with you, my most fair Bianca?
	I' faith, sweet love, I was coming to your house.

BIANCA	And I was going to your lodging, Cassio.
	What, keep a week away? seven days and nights?
	Eight score eight hours? and lovers' absent hours,
	More tedious than the dial eight score times?
	O weary reckoning!

CASSIO	                  Pardon me, Bianca:
	I have this while with leaden thoughts been press'd:
	But I shall, in a more continuate time,
	Strike off this score of absence. Sweet Bianca,

	[Giving her DESDEMONA's handkerchief]

	Take me this work out.

BIANCA	O Cassio, whence came this?
	This is some token from a newer friend:
	To the felt absence now I feel a cause:
	Is't come to this? Well, well.

CASSIO	Go to, woman!
	Throw your vile guesses in the devil's teeth,
	From whence you have them. You are jealous now
	That this is from some mistress, some remembrance:
	No, in good troth, Bianca.

BIANCA	Why, whose is it?

CASSIO	I know not, sweet: I found it in my chamber.
	I like the work well: ere it be demanded--
	As like enough it will--I'ld have it copied:
	Take it, and do't; and leave me for this time.

BIANCA	Leave you! wherefore?

CASSIO	I do attend here on the general;
	And think it no addition, nor my wish,
	To have him see me woman'd.

BIANCA	Why, I pray you?

CASSIO	Not that I love you not.

BIANCA	But that you do not love me.
	I pray you, bring me on the way a little,
	And say if I shall see you soon at night.

CASSIO	'Tis but a little way that I can bring you;
	For I attend here: but I'll see you soon.

BIANCA	'Tis very good; I must be circumstanced.

	[Exeunt]




	OTHELLO


ACT IV



SCENE I	Cyprus. Before the castle.


	[Enter OTHELLO and IAGO]

IAGO	Will you think so?

OTHELLO	                  Think so, Iago!

IAGO	What,
	To kiss in private?

OTHELLO	An unauthorized kiss.

IAGO	Or to be naked with her friend in bed
	An hour or more, not meaning any harm?

OTHELLO	Naked in bed, Iago, and not mean harm!
	It is hypocrisy against the devil:
	They that mean virtuously, and yet do so,
	The devil their virtue tempts, and they tempt heaven.

IAGO	So they do nothing, 'tis a venial slip:
	But if I give my wife a handkerchief,--

OTHELLO	What then?

IAGO	Why, then, 'tis hers, my lord; and, being hers,
	She may, I think, bestow't on any man.

OTHELLO	She is protectress of her honour too:
	May she give that?

IAGO	Her honour is an essence that's not seen;
	They have it very oft that have it not:
	But, for the handkerchief,--

OTHELLO	By heaven, I would most gladly have forgot it.
	Thou said'st, it comes o'er my memory,
	As doth the raven o'er the infected house,
	Boding to all--he had my handkerchief.

IAGO	Ay, what of that?

OTHELLO	                  That's not so good now.

IAGO	What,
	If I had said I had seen him do you wrong?
	Or heard him say,--as knaves be such abroad,
	Who having, by their own importunate suit,
	Or voluntary dotage of some mistress,
	Convinced or supplied them, cannot choose
	But they must blab--

OTHELLO	Hath he said any thing?

IAGO	He hath, my lord; but be you well assured,
	No more than he'll unswear.

OTHELLO	What hath he said?

IAGO	'Faith, that he did--I know not what he did.

OTHELLO	What? what?

IAGO	Lie--

OTHELLO	    With her?

IAGO	With her, on her; what you will.

OTHELLO	Lie with her! lie on her! We say lie on her, when
	they belie her. Lie with her! that's fulsome.
	--Handkerchief--confessions--handkerchief!--To
	confess, and be hanged for his labour;--first, to be
	hanged, and then to confess.--I tremble at it.
	Nature would not invest herself in such shadowing
	passion without some instruction. It is not words
	that shake me thus. Pish! Noses, ears, and lips.
	--Is't possible?--Confess--handkerchief!--O devil!--

	[Falls in a trance]

IAGO	Work on,
	My medicine, work! Thus credulous fools are caught;
	And many worthy and chaste dames even thus,
	All guiltless, meet reproach. What, ho! my lord!
	My lord, I say! Othello!

	[Enter CASSIO]

		    How now, Cassio!

CASSIO	What's the matter?

IAGO	My lord is fall'n into an epilepsy:
	This is his second fit; he had one yesterday.

CASSIO	Rub him about the temples.

IAGO	No, forbear;
	The lethargy must have his quiet course:
	If not, he foams at mouth and by and by
	Breaks out to savage madness. Look he stirs:
	Do you withdraw yourself a little while,
	He will recover straight: when he is gone,
	I would on great occasion speak with you.

	[Exit CASSIO]

	How is it, general? have you not hurt your head?

OTHELLO	Dost thou mock me?

IAGO	                  I mock you! no, by heaven.
	Would you would bear your fortune like a man!

OTHELLO	A horned man's a monster and a beast.

IAGO	There's many a beast then in a populous city,
	And many a civil monster.

OTHELLO	Did he confess it?

IAGO	                  Good sir, be a man;
	Think every bearded fellow that's but yoked
	May draw with you: there's millions now alive
	That nightly lie in those unproper beds
	Which they dare swear peculiar: your case is better.
	O, 'tis the spite of hell, the fiend's arch-mock,
	To lip a wanton in a secure couch,
	And to suppose her chaste! No, let me know;
	And knowing what I am, I know what she shall be.

OTHELLO	O, thou art wise; 'tis certain.

IAGO	Stand you awhile apart;
	Confine yourself but in a patient list.
	Whilst you were here o'erwhelmed with your grief--
	A passion most unsuiting such a man--
	Cassio came hither: I shifted him away,
	And laid good 'scuse upon your ecstasy,
	Bade him anon return and here speak with me;
	The which he promised. Do but encave yourself,
	And mark the fleers, the gibes, and notable scorns,
	That dwell in every region of his face;
	For I will make him tell the tale anew,
	Where, how, how oft, how long ago, and when
	He hath, and is again to cope your wife:
	I say, but mark his gesture. Marry, patience;
	Or I shall say you are all in all in spleen,
	And nothing of a man.

OTHELLO	Dost thou hear, Iago?
	I will be found most cunning in my patience;
	But--dost thou hear?--most bloody.

IAGO	That's not amiss;
	But yet keep time in all. Will you withdraw?

	[OTHELLO retires]

	Now will I question Cassio of Bianca,
	A housewife that by selling her desires
	Buys herself bread and clothes: it is a creature
	That dotes on Cassio; as 'tis the strumpet's plague
	To beguile many and be beguiled by one:
	He, when he hears of her, cannot refrain
	From the excess of laughter. Here he comes:

	[Re-enter CASSIO]

	As he shall smile, Othello shall go mad;
	And his unbookish jealousy must construe
	Poor Cassio's smiles, gestures and light behavior,
	Quite in the wrong. How do you now, lieutenant?

CASSIO	The worser that you give me the addition
	Whose want even kills me.

IAGO	Ply Desdemona well, and you are sure on't.

	[Speaking lower]

	Now, if this suit lay in Bianco's power,
	How quickly should you speed!

CASSIO	Alas, poor caitiff!

OTHELLO	Look, how he laughs already!

IAGO	I never knew woman love man so.

CASSIO	Alas, poor rogue! I think, i' faith, she loves me.

OTHELLO	Now he denies it faintly, and laughs it out.

IAGO	Do you hear, Cassio?

OTHELLO	Now he importunes him
	To tell it o'er: go to; well said, well said.

IAGO	She gives it out that you shall marry hey:
	Do you intend it?

CASSIO	Ha, ha, ha!

OTHELLO	Do you triumph, Roman? do you triumph?

CASSIO	I marry her! what? a customer! Prithee, bear some
	charity to my wit: do not think it so unwholesome.
	Ha, ha, ha!

OTHELLO	So, so, so, so: they laugh that win.

IAGO	'Faith, the cry goes that you shall marry her.

CASSIO	Prithee, say true.

IAGO	I am a very villain else.

OTHELLO	Have you scored me? Well.

CASSIO	This is the monkey's own giving out: she is
	persuaded I will marry her, out of her own love and
	flattery, not out of my promise.

OTHELLO	Iago beckons me; now he begins the story.

CASSIO	She was here even now; she haunts me in every place.
	I was the other day talking on the sea-bank with
	certain Venetians; and thither comes the bauble,
	and, by this hand, she falls me thus about my neck--

OTHELLO	Crying 'O dear Cassio!' as it were: his gesture
	imports it.

CASSIO	So hangs, and lolls, and weeps upon me; so hales,
	and pulls me: ha, ha, ha!

OTHELLO	Now he tells how she plucked him to my chamber. O,
	I see that nose of yours, but not that dog I shall
	throw it to.

CASSIO	Well, I must leave her company.

IAGO	Before me! look, where she comes.

CASSIO	'Tis such another fitchew! marry a perfumed one.

	[Enter BIANCA]

	What do you mean by this haunting of me?

BIANCA	Let the devil and his dam haunt you! What did you
	mean by that same handkerchief you gave me even now?
	I was a fine fool to take it. I must take out the
	work?--A likely piece of work, that you should find
	it in your chamber, and not know who left it there!
	This is some minx's token, and I must take out the
	work? There; give it your hobby-horse: wheresoever
	you had it, I'll take out no work on't.

CASSIO	How now, my sweet Bianca! how now! how now!

OTHELLO	By heaven, that should be my handkerchief!

BIANCA	An you'll come to supper to-night, you may; an you
	will not, come when you are next prepared for.

	[Exit]

IAGO	After her, after her.

CASSIO	'Faith, I must; she'll rail in the street else.

IAGO	Will you sup there?

CASSIO	'Faith, I intend so.

IAGO	Well, I may chance to see you; for I would very fain
	speak with you.

CASSIO	Prithee, come; will you?

IAGO	Go to; say no more.

	[Exit CASSIO]

OTHELLO	[Advancing]  How shall I murder him, Iago?

IAGO	Did you perceive how he laughed at his vice?

OTHELLO	O Iago!

IAGO	And did you see the handkerchief?

OTHELLO	Was that mine?

IAGO	Yours by this hand: and to see how he prizes the
	foolish woman your wife! she gave it him, and he
	hath given it his whore.

OTHELLO	I would have him nine years a-killing.
	A fine woman! a fair woman! a sweet woman!

IAGO	Nay, you must forget that.

OTHELLO	Ay, let her rot, and perish, and be damned to-night;
	for she shall not live: no, my heart is turned to
	stone; I strike it, and it hurts my hand. O, the
	world hath not a sweeter creature: she might lie by
	an emperor's side and command him tasks.

IAGO	Nay, that's not your way.

OTHELLO	Hang her! I do but say what she is: so delicate
	with her needle: an admirable musician: O! she
	will sing the savageness out of a bear: of so high
	and plenteous wit and invention:--

IAGO	She's the worse for all this.

OTHELLO	O, a thousand thousand times: and then, of so
	gentle a condition!

IAGO	Ay, too gentle.

OTHELLO	Nay, that's certain: but yet the pity of it, Iago!
	O Iago, the pity of it, Iago!

IAGO	If you are so fond over her iniquity, give her
	patent to offend; for, if it touch not you, it comes
	near nobody.

OTHELLO	I will chop her into messes: cuckold me!

IAGO	O, 'tis foul in her.

OTHELLO	With mine officer!

IAGO	That's fouler.

OTHELLO	Get me some poison, Iago; this night: I'll not
	expostulate with her, lest her body and beauty
	unprovide my mind again: this night, Iago.

IAGO	Do it not with poison, strangle her in her bed, even
	the bed she hath contaminated.

OTHELLO	Good, good: the justice of it pleases: very good.

IAGO	And for Cassio, let me be his undertaker: you
	shall hear more by midnight.

OTHELLO	Excellent good.

	[A trumpet within]

	What trumpet is that same?

IAGO	Something from Venice, sure. 'Tis Lodovico
	Come from the duke: and, see, your wife is with him.

	[Enter LODOVICO, DESDEMONA, and Attendants]

LODOVICO	Save you, worthy general!

OTHELLO	With all my heart, sir.

LODOVICO	The duke and senators of Venice greet you.

	[Gives him a letter]

OTHELLO	I kiss the instrument of their pleasures.

	[Opens the letter, and reads]

DESDEMONA	And what's the news, good cousin Lodovico?

IAGO	I am very glad to see you, signior
	Welcome to Cyprus.

LODOVICO	I thank you. How does Lieutenant Cassio?

IAGO	Lives, sir.

DESDEMONA	Cousin, there's fall'n between him and my lord
	An unkind breach: but you shall make all well.

OTHELLO	Are you sure of that?

DESDEMONA	My lord?

OTHELLO	[Reads]  'This fail you not to do, as you will--'

LODOVICO	He did not call; he's busy in the paper.
	Is there division 'twixt my lord and Cassio?

DESDEMONA	A most unhappy one: I would do much
	To atone them, for the love I bear to Cassio.

OTHELLO	Fire and brimstone!

DESDEMONA	My lord?

OTHELLO	       Are you wise?

DESDEMONA	What, is he angry?

LODOVICO	                  May be the letter moved him;
	For, as I think, they do command him home,
	Deputing Cassio in his government.

DESDEMONA	Trust me, I am glad on't.

OTHELLO	Indeed!

DESDEMONA	My lord?

OTHELLO	I am glad to see you mad.

DESDEMONA	Why, sweet Othello,--

OTHELLO	[Striking her]  Devil!

DESDEMONA	I have not deserved this.

LODOVICO	My lord, this would not be believed in Venice,
	Though I should swear I saw't: 'tis very much:
	Make her amends; she weeps.

OTHELLO	O devil, devil!
	If that the earth could teem with woman's tears,
	Each drop she falls would prove a crocodile.
	Out of my sight!

DESDEMONA	I will not stay to offend you.

	[Going]

LODOVICO	Truly, an obedient lady:
	I do beseech your lordship, call her back.

OTHELLO	Mistress!

DESDEMONA	        My lord?

OTHELLO	What would you with her, sir?

LODOVICO	Who, I, my lord?

OTHELLO	Ay; you did wish that I would make her turn:
	Sir, she can turn, and turn, and yet go on,
	And turn again; and she can weep, sir, weep;
	And she's obedient, as you say, obedient,
	Very obedient. Proceed you in your tears.
	Concerning this, sir,--O  well-painted passion!--
	I am commanded home. Get you away;
	I'll send for you anon. Sir, I obey the mandate,
	And will return to Venice. Hence, avaunt!

	[Exit DESDEMONA]

	Cassio shall have my place. And, sir, tonight,
	I do entreat that we may sup together:
	You are welcome, sir, to Cyprus.--Goats and monkeys!

	[Exit]

LODOVICO	Is this the noble Moor whom our full senate
	Call all in all sufficient? Is this the nature
	Whom passion could not shake? whose solid virtue
	The shot of accident, nor dart of chance,
	Could neither graze nor pierce?

IAGO	He is much changed.

LODOVICO	Are his wits safe? is he not light of brain?

IAGO	He's that he is: I may not breathe my censure
	What he might be: if what he might he is not,
	I would to heaven he were!

LODOVICO	What, strike his wife!

IAGO	'Faith, that was not so well; yet would I knew
	That stroke would prove the worst!

LODOVICO	Is it his use?
	Or did the letters work upon his blood,
	And new-create this fault?

IAGO	Alas, alas!
	It is not honesty in me to speak
	What I have seen and known. You shall observe him,
	And his own courses will denote him so
	That I may save my speech: do but go after,
	And mark how he continues.

LODOVICO	I am sorry that I am deceived in him.

	[Exeunt]




	OTHELLO


ACT IV


SCENE II	A room in the castle.


	[Enter OTHELLO and EMILIA]

OTHELLO	You have seen nothing then?

EMILIA	Nor ever heard, nor ever did suspect.

OTHELLO	Yes, you have seen Cassio and she together.

EMILIA	But then I saw no harm, and then I heard
	Each syllable that breath made up between them.

OTHELLO	What, did they never whisper?

EMILIA	Never, my lord.

OTHELLO	Nor send you out o' the way?

EMILIA	Never.

OTHELLO	To fetch her fan, her gloves, her mask, nor nothing?

EMILIA	Never, my lord.

OTHELLO	That's strange.

EMILIA	I durst, my lord, to wager she is honest,
	Lay down my soul at stake: if you think other,
	Remove your thought; it doth abuse your bosom.
	If any wretch have put this in your head,
	Let heaven requite it with the serpent's curse!
	For, if she be not honest, chaste, and true,
	There's no man happy; the purest of their wives
	Is foul as slander.

OTHELLO	Bid her come hither: go.

	[Exit EMILIA]

	She says enough; yet she's a simple bawd
	That cannot say as much. This is a subtle whore,
	A closet lock and key of villanous secrets
	And yet she'll kneel and pray; I have seen her do't.

	[Enter DESDEMONA with EMILIA]

DESDEMONA	My lord, what is your will?

OTHELLO	Pray, chuck, come hither.

DESDEMONA	What is your pleasure?

OTHELLO	Let me see your eyes;
	Look in my face.

DESDEMONA	                  What horrible fancy's this?

OTHELLO	[To EMILIA]  Some of your function, mistress;
	Leave procreants alone and shut the door;
	Cough, or cry 'hem,' if any body come:
	Your mystery, your mystery: nay, dispatch.

	[Exit EMILIA]

DESDEMONA	Upon my knees, what doth your speech import?
	I understand a fury in your words.
	But not the words.

OTHELLO	Why, what art thou?

DESDEMONA	Your wife, my lord; your true
	And loyal wife.

OTHELLO	                  Come, swear it, damn thyself
	Lest, being like one of heaven, the devils themselves
	Should fear to seize thee: therefore be double damn'd:
	Swear thou art honest.

DESDEMONA	Heaven doth truly know it.

OTHELLO	Heaven truly knows that thou art false as hell.

DESDEMONA	To whom, my lord? with whom? how am I false?

OTHELLO	O Desdemona! away! away! away!

DESDEMONA	Alas the heavy day! Why do you weep?
	Am I the motive of these tears, my lord?
	If haply you my father do suspect
	An instrument of this your calling back,
	Lay not your blame on me: If you have lost him,
	Why, I have lost him too.

OTHELLO	Had it pleased heaven
	To try me with affliction; had they rain'd
	All kinds of sores and shames on my bare head.
	Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips,
	Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes,
	I should have found in some place of my soul
	A drop of patience: but, alas, to make me
	A fixed figure for the time of scorn
	To point his slow unmoving finger at!
	Yet could I bear that too; well, very well:
	But there, where I have garner'd up my heart,
	Where either I must live, or bear no life;
	The fountain from the which my current runs,
	Or else dries up; to be discarded thence!
	Or keep it as a cistern for foul toads
	To knot and gender in! Turn thy complexion there,
	Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'd cherubin,--
	Ay, there, look grim as hell!

DESDEMONA	I hope my noble lord esteems me honest.

OTHELLO	O, ay; as summer flies are in the shambles,
	That quicken even with blowing. O thou weed,
	Who art so lovely fair and smell'st so sweet
	That the sense aches at thee, would thou hadst
	ne'er been born!

DESDEMONA	Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed?

OTHELLO	Was this fair paper, this most goodly book,
	Made to write 'whore' upon? What committed!
	Committed! O thou public commoner!
	I should make very forges of my cheeks,
	That would to cinders burn up modesty,
	Did I but speak thy deeds. What committed!
	Heaven stops the nose at it and the moon winks,
	The bawdy wind that kisses all it meets
	Is hush'd within the hollow mine of earth,
	And will not hear it. What committed!
	Impudent strumpet!

DESDEMONA	                  By heaven, you do me wrong.

OTHELLO	Are you not a strumpet?

DESDEMONA	No, as I am a Christian:
	If to preserve this vessel for my lord
	From any other foul unlawful touch
	Be not to be a strumpet, I am none.

OTHELLO	What, not a whore?

DESDEMONA	                  No, as I shall be saved.

OTHELLO	Is't possible?

DESDEMONA	                  O, heaven forgive us!

OTHELLO	I cry you mercy, then:
	I took you for that cunning whore of Venice
	That married with Othello.

	[Raising his voice]

		     You, mistress,
	That have the office opposite to Saint Peter,
	And keep the gate of hell!

	[Re-enter EMILIA]

		     You, you, ay, you!
	We have done our course; there's money for your pains:
	I pray you, turn the key and keep our counsel.

	[Exit]

EMILIA	Alas, what does this gentleman conceive?
	How do you, madam? how do you, my good lady?

DESDEMONA	'Faith, half asleep.

EMILIA	Good madam, what's the matter with my lord?

DESDEMONA	With who?

EMILIA	Why, with my lord, madam.

DESDEMONA	Who is thy lord?

EMILIA	                  He that is yours, sweet lady.

DESDEMONA	I have none: do not talk to me, Emilia;
	I cannot weep; nor answer have I none,
	But what should go by water. Prithee, tonight
	Lay on my bed my wedding sheets: remember;
	And call thy husband hither.

EMILIA	Here's a change indeed!

	[Exit]

DESDEMONA	'Tis meet I should be used so, very meet.
	How have I been behaved, that he might stick
	The small'st opinion on my least misuse?

	[Re-enter EMILIA with IAGO]

IAGO	What is your pleasure, madam?
	How is't with you?

DESDEMONA	I cannot tell. Those that do teach young babes
	Do it with gentle means and easy tasks:
	He might have chid me so; for, in good faith,
	I am a child to chiding.

IAGO	What's the matter, lady?

EMILIA	Alas, Iago, my lord hath so bewhored her.
	Thrown such despite and heavy terms upon her,
	As true hearts cannot bear.

DESDEMONA	Am I that name, Iago?

IAGO	What name, fair lady?

DESDEMONA	Such as she says my lord did say I was.

EMILIA	He call'd her whore: a beggar in his drink
	Could not have laid such terms upon his callat.

IAGO	Why did he so?

DESDEMONA	I do not know; I am sure I am none such.

IAGO	Do not weep, do not weep. Alas the day!

EMILIA	Hath she forsook so many noble matches,
	Her father and her country and her friends,
	To be call'd whore? would it not make one weep?

DESDEMONA	It is my wretched fortune.

IAGO	Beshrew him for't!
	How comes this trick upon him?

DESDEMONA	Nay, heaven doth know.

EMILIA	I will be hang'd, if some eternal villain,
	Some busy and insinuating rogue,
	Some cogging, cozening slave, to get some office,
	Have not devised this slander; I'll be hang'd else.

IAGO	Fie, there is no such man; it is impossible.

DESDEMONA	If any such there be, heaven pardon him!

EMILIA	A halter pardon him! and hell gnaw his bones!
	Why should he call her whore? who keeps her company?
	What place? what time? what form? what likelihood?
	The Moor's abused by some most villanous knave,
	Some base notorious knave, some scurvy fellow.
	O heaven, that such companions thou'ldst unfold,
	And put in every honest hand a whip
	To lash the rascals naked through the world
	Even from the east to the west!

IAGO	Speak within door.

EMILIA	O, fie upon them! Some such squire he was
	That turn'd your wit the seamy side without,
	And made you to suspect me with the Moor.

IAGO	You are a fool; go to.

DESDEMONA	O good Iago,
	What shall I do to win my lord again?
	Good friend, go to him; for, by this light of heaven,
	I know not how I lost him. Here I kneel:
	If e'er my will did trespass 'gainst his love,
	Either in discourse of thought or actual deed,
	Or that mine eyes, mine ears, or any sense,
	Delighted them in any other form;
	Or that I do not yet, and ever did.
	And ever will--though he do shake me off
	To beggarly divorcement--love him dearly,
	Comfort forswear me! Unkindness may do much;
	And his unkindness may defeat my life,
	But never taint my love. I cannot say 'whore:'
	It does abhor me now I speak the word;
	To do the act that might the addition earn
	Not the world's mass of vanity could make me.

IAGO	I pray you, be content; 'tis but his humour:
	The business of the state does him offence,
	And he does chide with you.

DESDEMONA	If 'twere no other--

IAGO	'Tis but so, I warrant.

	[Trumpets within]

	Hark, how these instruments summon to supper!
	The messengers of Venice stay the meat;
	Go in, and weep not; all things shall be well.

	[Exeunt DESDEMONA and EMILIA]

	[Enter RODERIGO]

	How now, Roderigo!

RODERIGO	I do not find that thou dealest justly with me.

IAGO	What in the contrary?

RODERIGO	Every day thou daffest me with some device, Iago;
	and rather, as it seems to me now, keepest from me
	all conveniency than suppliest me with the least
	advantage of hope. I will indeed no longer endure
	it, nor am I yet persuaded to put up in peace what
	already I have foolishly suffered.

IAGO	Will you hear me, Roderigo?

RODERIGO	'Faith, I have heard too much, for your words and
	performances are no kin together.

IAGO	You charge me most unjustly.

RODERIGO	With nought but truth. I have wasted myself out of
	my means. The jewels you have had from me to
	deliver to Desdemona would half have corrupted a
	votarist: you have told me she hath received them
	and returned me expectations and comforts of sudden
	respect and acquaintance, but I find none.

IAGO	Well; go to; very well.

RODERIGO	Very well! go to! I cannot go to, man; nor 'tis
	not very well: nay, I think it is scurvy, and begin
	to find myself fobbed in it.

IAGO	Very well.

RODERIGO	I tell you 'tis not very well. I will make myself
	known to Desdemona: if she will return me my
	jewels, I will give over my suit and repent my
	unlawful solicitation; if not, assure yourself I
	will seek satisfaction of you.

IAGO	You have said now.

RODERIGO	Ay, and said nothing but what I protest intendment of doing.

IAGO	Why, now I see there's mettle in thee, and even from
	this instant to build on thee a better opinion than
	ever before. Give me thy hand, Roderigo: thou hast
	taken against me a most just exception; but yet, I
	protest, I have dealt most directly in thy affair.

RODERIGO	It hath not appeared.

IAGO	I grant indeed it hath not appeared, and your
	suspicion is not without wit and judgment. But,
	Roderigo, if thou hast that in thee indeed, which I
	have greater reason to believe now than ever, I mean
	purpose, courage and valour, this night show it: if
	thou the next night following enjoy not Desdemona,
	take me from this world with treachery and devise
	engines for my life.

RODERIGO	Well, what is it? is it within reason and compass?

IAGO	Sir, there is especial commission come from Venice
	to depute Cassio in Othello's place.

RODERIGO	Is that true? why, then Othello and Desdemona
	return again to Venice.

IAGO	O, no; he goes into Mauritania and takes away with
	him the fair Desdemona, unless his abode be
	lingered here by some accident: wherein none can be
	so determinate as the removing of Cassio.

RODERIGO	How do you mean, removing of him?

IAGO	Why, by making him uncapable of Othello's place;
	knocking out his brains.

RODERIGO	And that you would have me to do?

IAGO	Ay, if you dare do yourself a profit and a right.
	He sups to-night with a harlotry, and thither will I
	go to him: he knows not yet of his horrorable
	fortune. If you will watch his going thence, which
	I will fashion to fall out between twelve and one,
	you may take him at your pleasure: I will be near
	to second your attempt, and he shall fall between
	us. Come, stand not amazed at it, but go along with
	me; I will show you such a necessity in his death
	that you shall think yourself bound to put it on
	him. It is now high suppertime, and the night grows
	to waste: about it.

RODERIGO	I will hear further reason for this.

IAGO	And you shall be satisfied.

	[Exeunt]




	OTHELLO


ACT IV



SCENE III	Another room In the castle.


	[Enter OTHELLO, LODOVICO, DESDEMONA, EMILIA and
	Attendants]

LODOVICO	I do beseech you, sir, trouble yourself no further.

OTHELLO	O, pardon me: 'twill do me good to walk.

LODOVICO	Madam, good night; I humbly thank your ladyship.

DESDEMONA	Your honour is most welcome.

OTHELLO	Will you walk, sir?
	O,--Desdemona,--

DESDEMONA	My lord?

OTHELLO	Get you to bed on the instant; I will be returned
	forthwith: dismiss your attendant there: look it be done.

DESDEMONA	I will, my lord.

	[Exeunt OTHELLO, LODOVICO, and Attendants]

EMILIA	How goes it now? he looks gentler than he did.

DESDEMONA	He says he will return incontinent:
	He hath commanded me to go to bed,
	And bade me to dismiss you.

EMILIA	Dismiss me!

DESDEMONA	It was his bidding: therefore, good Emilia,.
	Give me my nightly wearing, and adieu:
	We must not now displease him.

EMILIA	I would you had never seen him!

DESDEMONA	So would not I	my love doth so approve him,
	That even his stubbornness, his cheques, his frowns--
	Prithee, unpin me,--have grace and favour in them.

EMILIA	I have laid those sheets you bade me on the bed.

DESDEMONA	All's one. Good faith, how foolish are our minds!
	If I do die before thee prithee, shroud me
	In one of those same sheets.

EMILIA	Come, come you talk.

DESDEMONA	My mother had a maid call'd Barbara:
	She was in love, and he she loved proved mad
	And did forsake her: she had a song of 'willow;'
	An old thing 'twas, but it express'd her fortune,
	And she died singing it: that song to-night
	Will not go from my mind; I have much to do,
	But to go hang my head all at one side,
	And sing it like poor Barbara. Prithee, dispatch.

EMILIA	Shall I go fetch your night-gown?

DESDEMONA	No, unpin me here.
	This Lodovico is a proper man.

EMILIA	A very handsome man.

DESDEMONA	He speaks well.

EMILIA	I know a lady in Venice would have walked barefoot
	to Palestine for a touch of his nether lip.

DESDEMONA	[Singing]  The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree,
	Sing all a green willow:
	Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee,
	Sing willow, willow, willow:
	The fresh streams ran by her, and murmur'd her moans;
	Sing willow, willow, willow;
	Her salt tears fell from her, and soften'd the stones;
	Lay by these:--

	[Singing]

	Sing willow, willow, willow;
	Prithee, hie thee; he'll come anon:--

	[Singing]

	Sing all a green willow must be my garland.
	Let nobody blame him; his scorn I approve,-
	Nay, that's not next.--Hark! who is't that knocks?

EMILIA	It's the wind.

DESDEMONA	[Singing]  I call'd my love false love; but what
	said he then?
	Sing willow, willow, willow:
	If I court moe women, you'll couch with moe men!
	So, get thee gone; good night Ate eyes do itch;
	Doth that bode weeping?

EMILIA	'Tis neither here nor there.

DESDEMONA	I have heard it said so. O, these men, these men!
	Dost thou in conscience think,--tell me, Emilia,--
	That there be women do abuse their husbands
	In such gross kind?

EMILIA	There be some such, no question.

DESDEMONA	Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world?

EMILIA	Why, would not you?

DESDEMONA	No, by this heavenly light!

EMILIA	Nor I neither by this heavenly light;
	I might do't as well i' the dark.

DESDEMONA	Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world?

EMILIA	The world's a huge thing: it is a great price.
	For a small vice.

DESDEMONA	In troth, I think thou wouldst not.

EMILIA	In troth, I think I should; and undo't when I had
	done. Marry, I would not do such a thing for a
	joint-ring, nor for measures of lawn, nor for
	gowns, petticoats, nor caps, nor any petty
	exhibition; but for the whole world,--why, who would
	not make her husband a cuckold to make him a
	monarch? I should venture purgatory for't.

DESDEMONA	Beshrew me, if I would do such a wrong
	For the whole world.

EMILIA	Why the wrong is but a wrong i' the world: and
	having the world for your labour, tis a wrong in your
	own world, and you might quickly make it right.

DESDEMONA	I do not think there is any such woman.

EMILIA	Yes, a dozen; and as many to the vantage as would
	store the world they played for.
	But I do think it is their husbands' faults
	If wives do fall: say that they slack their duties,
	And pour our treasures into foreign laps,
	Or else break out in peevish jealousies,
	Throwing restraint upon us; or say they strike us,
	Or scant our former having in despite;
	Why, we have galls, and though we have some grace,
	Yet have we some revenge. Let husbands know
	Their wives have sense like them: they see and smell
	And have their palates both for sweet and sour,
	As husbands have. What is it that they do
	When they change us for others? Is it sport?
	I think it is: and doth affection breed it?
	I think it doth: is't frailty that thus errs?
	It is so too: and have not we affections,
	Desires for sport, and frailty, as men have?
	Then let them use us well: else let them know,
	The ills we do, their ills instruct us so.

DESDEMONA	Good night, good night: heaven me such uses send,
	Not to pick bad from bad, but by bad mend!

	[Exeunt]




	OTHELLO


ACT V



SCENE I	Cyprus. A street.


	[Enter IAGO and RODERIGO]

IAGO	Here, stand behind this bulk; straight will he come:
	Wear thy good rapier bare, and put it home:
	Quick, quick; fear nothing; I'll be at thy elbow:
	It makes us, or it mars us; think on that,
	And fix most firm thy resolution.

RODERIGO	Be near at hand; I may miscarry in't.

IAGO	Here, at thy hand: be bold, and take thy stand.

	[Retires]

RODERIGO	I have no great devotion to the deed;
	And yet he hath given me satisfying reasons:
	'Tis but a man gone. Forth, my sword: he dies.

IAGO	I have rubb'd this young quat almost to the sense,
	And he grows angry. Now, whether he kill Cassio,
	Or Cassio him, or each do kill the other,
	Every way makes my gain: live Roderigo,
	He calls me to a restitution large
	Of gold and jewels that I bobb'd from him,
	As gifts to Desdemona;
	It must not be: if Cassio do remain,
	He hath a daily beauty in his life
	That makes me ugly; and, besides, the Moor
	May unfold me to him; there stand I in much peril:
	No, he must die. But so: I hear him coming.

	[Enter CASSIO]

RODERIGO	I know his gait, 'tis he.--Villain, thou diest!

	[Makes a pass at CASSIO]

CASSIO	That thrust had been mine enemy indeed,
	But that my coat is better than thou know'st
	I will make proof of thine.

	[Draws, and wounds RODERIGO]

RODERIGO	O, I am slain!

	[IAGO from behind wounds CASSIO in the leg, and exit]

CASSIO	I am maim'd for ever. Help, ho! murder! murder!

	[Falls]

	[Enter OTHELLO]

OTHELLO	The voice of Cassio: Iago keeps his word.

RODERIGO	O, villain that I am!

OTHELLO	It is even so.

CASSIO	O, help, ho! light! a surgeon!

OTHELLO	'Tis he:--O brave Iago, honest and just,
	That hast such noble sense of thy friend's wrong!
	Thou teachest me. Minion, your dear lies dead,
	And your unblest fate hies: strumpet, I come.
	Forth of my heart those charms, thine eyes, are blotted;
	Thy bed, lust-stain'd, shall with lust's blood be spotted.

	[Exit]

	[Enter LODOVICO and GRATIANO]

CASSIO	What, ho! no watch? no passage? murder! murder!

GRATIANO	'Tis some mischance; the cry is very direful.

CASSIO	O, help!

LODOVICO	Hark!

RODERIGO	O wretched villain!

LODOVICO	Two or three groan: it is a heavy night:
	These may be counterfeits: let's think't unsafe
	To come in to the cry without more help.

RODERIGO	Nobody come? then shall I bleed to death.

LODOVICO	Hark!

	[Re-enter IAGO, with a light]

GRATIANO	Here's one comes in his shirt, with light and weapons.

IAGO	Who's there? whose noise is this that ones on murder?

LODOVICO	We do not know.

IAGO	                  Did not you hear a cry?

CASSIO	Here, here! for heaven's sake, help me!

IAGO	What's the matter?

GRATIANO	This is Othello's ancient, as I take it.

LODOVICO	The same indeed; a very valiant fellow.

IAGO	What are you here that cry so grievously?

CASSIO	Iago? O, I am spoil'd, undone by villains!
	Give me some help.

IAGO	O me, lieutenant! what villains have done this?

CASSIO	I think that one of them is hereabout,
	And cannot make away.

IAGO	O treacherous villains!
	What are you there? come in, and give some help.

	[To LODOVICO and GRATIANO]

RODERIGO	O, help me here!

CASSIO	That's one of them.

IAGO	O murderous slave! O villain!

	[Stabs RODERIGO]

RODERIGO	O damn'd Iago! O inhuman dog!

IAGO	Kill men i' the dark!--Where be these bloody thieves?--
	How silent is this town!--Ho! murder! murder!--
	What may you be? are you of good or evil?

LODOVICO	As you shall prove us, praise us.

IAGO	Signior Lodovico?

LODOVICO	He, sir.

IAGO	I cry you mercy. Here's Cassio hurt by villains.

GRATIANO	Cassio!

IAGO	How is't, brother!

CASSIO	My leg is cut in two.

IAGO	Marry, heaven forbid!
	Light, gentlemen; I'll bind it with my shirt.

	[Enter BIANCA]

BIANCA	What is the matter, ho? who is't that cried?

IAGO	Who is't that cried!

BIANCA	O my dear Cassio! my sweet Cassio! O Cassio,
	Cassio, Cassio!

IAGO	O notable strumpet! Cassio, may you suspect
	Who they should be that have thus many led you?

CASSIO	No.

GRATIANO	I am to find you thus: I have been to seek you.

IAGO	Lend me a garter. So. O, for a chair,
	To bear him easily hence!

BIANCA	Alas, he faints! O Cassio, Cassio, Cassio!

IAGO	Gentlemen all, I do suspect this trash
	To be a party in this injury.
	Patience awhile, good Cassio. Come, come;
	Lend me a light. Know we this face or no?
	Alas my friend and my dear countryman
	Roderigo! no:--yes, sure: O heaven! Roderigo.

GRATIANO	What, of Venice?

IAGO	Even he, sir; did you know him?

GRATIANO	Know him! ay.

IAGO	Signior Gratiano? I cry you gentle pardon;
	These bloody accidents must excuse my manners,
	That so neglected you.

GRATIANO	I am glad to see you.

IAGO	How do you, Cassio? O, a chair, a chair!

GRATIANO	Roderigo!

IAGO	He, he 'tis he.

	[A chair brought in]

	O, that's well said; the chair!

GRATIANO	Some good man bear him carefully from hence;
	I'll fetch the general's surgeon.

	[To BIANCA]

		                  For you, mistress,
	Save you your labour. He that lies slain
	here, Cassio,
	Was my dear friend: what malice was between you?

CASSIO	None in the world; nor do I know the man.

IAGO	[To BIANCA]  What, look you pale? O, bear him out
	o' the air.

	[CASSIO and RODERIGO are borne off]

	Stay you, good gentlemen. Look you pale, mistress?
	Do you perceive the gastness of her eye?
	Nay, if you stare, we shall hear more anon.
	Behold her well; I pray you, look upon her:
	Do you see, gentlemen? nay, guiltiness will speak,
	Though tongues were out of use.

	[Enter EMILIA]

EMILIA	'Las, what's the matter? what's the matter, husband?

IAGO	Cassio hath here been set on in the dark
	By Roderigo and fellows that are scaped:
	He's almost slain, and Roderigo dead.

EMILIA	Alas, good gentleman! alas, good Cassio!

IAGO	This is the fruit of whoring. Prithee, Emilia,
	Go know of Cassio where he supp'd to-night.

	[To BIANCA]

	What, do you shake at that?

BIANCA	He supp'd at my house; but I therefore shake not.

IAGO	O, did he so? I charge you, go with me.

EMILIA	Fie, fie upon thee, strumpet!

BIANCA	I am no strumpet; but of life as honest
	As you that thus abuse me.

EMILIA	As I! foh! fie upon thee!

IAGO	Kind gentlemen, let's go see poor Cassio dress'd.
	Come, mistress, you must tell's another tale.
	Emilia run you to the citadel,
	And tell my lord and lady what hath happ'd.
	Will you go on? I pray.

	[Aside]

		   This is the night
	That either makes me or fordoes me quite.

	[Exeunt]




	OTHELLO


ACT V



SCENE II	A bedchamber in the castle: DESDEMONA in bed asleep;
	a light burning.


	[Enter OTHELLO]

OTHELLO	It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul,--
	Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars!--
	It is the cause. Yet I'll not shed her blood;
	Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow,
	And smooth as monumental alabaster.
	Yet she must die, else she'll betray more men.
	Put out the light, and then put out the light:
	If I quench thee, thou flaming minister,
	I can again thy former light restore,
	Should I repent me: but once put out thy light,
	Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature,
	I know not where is that Promethean heat
	That can thy light relume. When I have pluck'd the rose,
	I cannot give it vital growth again.
	It must needs wither: I'll smell it on the tree.

	[Kissing her]

	Ah balmy breath, that dost almost persuade
	Justice to break her sword! One more, one more.
	Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee,
	And love thee after. One more, and this the last:
	So sweet was ne'er so fatal. I must weep,
	But they are cruel tears: this sorrow's heavenly;
	It strikes where it doth love. She wakes.

DESDEMONA	Who's there? Othello?

OTHELLO	Ay. Desdemona.

DESDEMONA	Will you come to bed, my lord?

OTHELLO	Have you pray'd to-night, Desdemona?

DESDEMONA	Ay, my lord.

OTHELLO	If you bethink yourself of any crime
	Unreconciled as yet to heaven and grace,
	Solicit for it straight.

DESDEMONA	Alas, my lord, what do you mean by that?

OTHELLO	Well, do it, and be brief; I will walk by:
	I would not kill thy unprepared spirit;
	No; heaven forfend! I would not kill thy soul.

DESDEMONA	Talk you of killing?

OTHELLO	Ay, I do.

DESDEMONA	Then heaven
	Have mercy on me!

OTHELLO	                  Amen, with all my heart!

DESDEMONA	If you say so, I hope you will not kill me.

OTHELLO	Hum!

DESDEMONA	And yet I fear you; for you are fatal then
	When your eyes roll so: why I should fear I know not,
	Since guiltiness I know not; but yet I feel I fear.

OTHELLO	Think on thy sins.

DESDEMONA	                  They are loves I bear to you.

OTHELLO	Ay, and for that thou diest.

DESDEMONA	That death's unnatural that kills for loving.
	Alas, why gnaw you so your nether lip?
	Some bloody passion shakes your very frame:
	These are portents; but yet I hope, I hope,
	They do not point on me.

OTHELLO	Peace, and be still!

DESDEMONA	I will so. What's the matter?

OTHELLO	That handkerchief which I so loved and gave thee
	Thou gavest to Cassio.

DESDEMONA	No, by my life and soul!
	Send for the man, and ask him.

OTHELLO	Sweet soul, take heed,
	Take heed of perjury; thou art on thy deathbed.

DESDEMONA	Ay, but not yet to die.

OTHELLO	Yes, presently:
	Therefore confess thee freely of thy sin;
	For to deny each article with oath
	Cannot remove nor choke the strong conception
	That I do groan withal. Thou art to die.

DESDEMONA	Then Lord have mercy on me!

OTHELLO	I say, amen.

DESDEMONA	And have you mercy too! I never did
	Offend you in my life; never loved Cassio
	But with such general warranty of heaven
	As I might love: I never gave him token.

OTHELLO	By heaven, I saw my handkerchief in's hand.
	O perjured woman! thou dost stone my heart,
	And makest me call what I intend to do
	A murder, which I thought a sacrifice:
	I saw the handkerchief.

DESDEMONA	He found it then;
	I never gave it him: send for him hither;
	Let him confess a truth.

OTHELLO	He hath confess'd.

DESDEMONA	What, my lord?

OTHELLO	That he hath used thee.

DESDEMONA	How? unlawfully?

OTHELLO	Ay.

DESDEMONA	He will not say so.

OTHELLO	No, his mouth is stopp'd;
	Honest Iago hath ta'en order for't.

DESDEMONA	O! my fear interprets: what, is he dead?

OTHELLO	Had all his hairs been lives, my great revenge
	Had stomach for them all.

DESDEMONA	Alas! he is betray'd and I undone.

OTHELLO	Out, strumpet! weep'st thou for him to my face?

DESDEMONA	O, banish me, my lord, but kill me not!

OTHELLO	Down, strumpet!

DESDEMONA	Kill me to-morrow: let me live to-night!

OTHELLO	Nay, if you strive--

DESDEMONA	But half an hour!

OTHELLO	                  Being done, there is no pause.

DESDEMONA	But while I say one prayer!

OTHELLO	It is too late.

	[He stifles her]

EMILIA	[Within]  My lord, my lord! what, ho! my lord, my lord!

OTHELLO	What noise is this? Not dead? not yet quite dead?
	I that am cruel am yet merciful;
	I would not have thee linger in thy pain: So, so.

EMILIA	[Within]  What, ho! my lord, my lord!

OTHELLO	Who's there?

EMILIA	[Within]  O, good my lord, I would speak a word with you!

OTHELLO	Yes: 'tis Emilia. By and by. She's dead.
	'Tis like she comes to speak of Cassio's death.--
	The noise was here. Ha! no more moving?
	Still as the grave. Shall she come in? were't good?--
	I think she stirs again:--no. What's best to do?
	If she come in, she'll sure speak to my wife:
	My wife! my wife! what wife? I have no wife.
	O insupportable! O heavy hour!
	Methinks it should be now a huge eclipse
	Of sun and moon, and that the affrighted globe
	Should yawn at alteration.

EMILIA	[Within]  I do beseech you
	That I may speak with you, O, good my lord!

OTHELLO	I had forgot thee: O, come in, Emilia;
	Soft; by and by. Let me the curtains draw.
	Where art thou?

	[Unlocks the door]

	[Enter EMILIA]

	What's the matter with thee now?

EMILIA	O, my good lord, yonder's foul murders done!

OTHELLO	What, now?

EMILIA	But now, my lord.

OTHELLO	It is the very error of the moon;
	She comes more nearer earth than she was wont,
	And makes men mad.

EMILIA	Cassio, my lord, hath kill'd a young Venetian
	Call'd Roderigo.

OTHELLO	                  Roderigo kill'd!
	And Cassio kill'd!

EMILIA	No, Cassio is not kill'd.

OTHELLO	Not Cassio kill'd! then murder's out of tune,
	And sweet revenge grows harsh.

DESDEMONA	O, falsely, falsely murder'd!

EMILIA	Alas, what cry is that?

OTHELLO	That! what?

EMILIA	Out, and alas! that was my lady's voice.
	Help! help, ho! help! O lady, speak again!
	Sweet Desdemona! O sweet mistress, speak!

DESDEMONA	A guiltless death I die.

EMILIA	O, who hath done this deed?

DESDEMONA	Nobody; I myself. Farewell
	Commend me to my kind lord: O, farewell!

	[Dies]

OTHELLO	Why, how should she be murder'd?

EMILIA	Alas, who knows?

OTHELLO	You heard her say herself, it was not I.

EMILIA	She said so: I must needs report the truth.

OTHELLO	She's, like a liar, gone to burning hell:
	'Twas I that kill'd her.

EMILIA	O, the more angel she,
	And you the blacker devil!

OTHELLO	She turn'd to folly, and she was a whore.

EMILIA	Thou dost belie her, and thou art a devil.

OTHELLO	She was false as water.

EMILIA	Thou art rash as fire, to say
	That she was false: O, she was heavenly true!

OTHELLO	Cassio did top her; ask thy husband else.
	O, I were damn'd beneath all depth in hell,
	But that I did proceed upon just grounds
	To this extremity. Thy husband knew it all.

EMILIA	My husband!

OTHELLO	Thy husband.

EMILIA	That she was false to wedlock?

OTHELLO	Ay, with Cassio. Nay, had she been true,
	If heaven would make me such another world
	Of one entire and Perfect chrysolite,
	I'ld not have sold her for it.

EMILIA	My husband!

OTHELLO	          Ay, 'twas he that told me first:
	An honest man he is, and hates the slime
	That sticks on filthy deeds.

EMILIA	My husband!

OTHELLO	What needs this iteration, woman? I say thy husband.

EMILIA	O mistress, villany hath made mocks with love,
	My husband say that she was false!

OTHELLO	He, woman;
	I say thy husband: dost understand the word?
	My friend, thy husband, honest, honest Iago.

EMILIA	If he say so, may his pernicious soul
	Rot half a grain a day! he lies to the heart:
	She was too fond of her most filthy bargain.

OTHELLO	Ha!

EMILIA	Do thy worst:
	This deed of thine is no more worthy heaven
	Than thou wast worthy her.

OTHELLO	Peace, you were best.

EMILIA	Thou hast not half that power to do me harm
	As I have to be hurt. O gull! O dolt!
	As ignorant as dirt! thou hast done a deed--
	I care not for thy sword; I'll make thee known,
	Though I lost twenty lives.--Help! help, ho! help!
	The Moor hath kill'd my mistress! Murder! murder!

	[Enter MONTANO, GRATIANO, IAGO, and others]

MONTANO	What is the matter? How now, general!

EMILIA	O, are you come, Iago? you have done well,
	That men must lay their murders on your neck.

GRATIANO	What is the matter?

EMILIA	Disprove this villain, if thou be'st a man:
	He says thou told'st him that his wife was false:
	I know thou didst not, thou'rt not such a villain:
	Speak, for my heart is full.

IAGO	I told him what I thought, and told no more
	Than what he found himself was apt and true.

EMILIA	But did you ever tell him she was false?

IAGO	I did.

EMILIA	You told a lie, an odious, damned lie;
	Upon my soul, a lie, a wicked lie.
	She false with Cassio!--did you say with Cassio?

IAGO	With Cassio, mistress. Go to, charm your tongue.

EMILIA	I will not charm my tongue; I am bound to speak:
	My mistress here lies murder'd in her bed,--

All	O heavens forfend!

EMILIA	And your reports have set the murder on.

OTHELLO	Nay, stare not, masters: it is true, indeed.

GRATIANO	'Tis a strange truth.

MONTANO	O monstrous act!

EMILIA	                  Villany, villany, villany!
	I think upon't, I think: I smell't: O villany!--
	I thought so then:--I'll kill myself for grief:--
	O villany, villany!

IAGO	What, are you mad? I charge you, get you home.

EMILIA	Good gentlemen, let me have leave to speak:

	'Tis proper I obey him, but not now.
	Perchance, Iago, I will ne'er go home.

OTHELLO	O! O! O!

	[He falls on the bed]

EMILIA	       Nay, lay thee down and roar;
	For thou hast kill'd the sweetest innocent
	That e'er did lift up eye.

OTHELLO	[Rising]  O, she was foul!
	I scarce did know you, uncle: there lies your niece,
	Whose breath, indeed, these hands have newly stopp'd:
	I know this act shows horrible and grim.

GRATIANO	Poor Desdemona! I am glad thy father's dead:
	Thy match was mortal to him, and pure grief
	Shore his old thread in twain: did he live now,
	This sight would make him do a desperate turn,
	Yea, curse his better angel from his side,
	And fall to reprobation.

OTHELLO	'Tis pitiful; but yet Iago knows
	That she with Cassio hath the act of shame
	A thousand times committed; Cassio confess'd it:
	And she did gratify his amorous works
	With that recognizance and pledge of love
	Which I first gave her; I saw it in his hand:
	It was a handkerchief, an antique token
	My father gave my mother.

EMILIA	O heaven! O heavenly powers!

IAGO	Come, hold your peace.

EMILIA	'Twill out, 'twill out: I peace!
	No, I will speak as liberal as the north:
	Let heaven and men and devils, let them all,
	All, all, cry shame against me, yet I'll speak.

IAGO	Be wise, and get you home.

EMILIA	I will not.

	[IAGO offers to stab EMILIA]

GRATIANO	Fie!
	Your sword upon a woman?

EMILIA	O thou dull Moor! that handkerchief thou speak'st of
	I found by fortune and did give my husband;
	For often, with a solemn earnestness,
	More than indeed belong'd to such a trifle,
	He begg'd of me to steal it.

IAGO	Villanous whore!

EMILIA	She give it Cassio! no, alas! I found it,
	And I did give't my husband.

IAGO	Filth, thou liest!

EMILIA	By heaven, I do not, I do not, gentlemen.
	O murderous coxcomb! what should such a fool
	Do with so good a woman?

OTHELLO	Are there no stones in heaven
	But what serve for the thunder?--Precious villain!

	[He runs at IAGO  IAGO, from behind, stabs EMILIA, and exit]

GRATIANO	The woman falls; sure, he hath kill'd his wife.

EMILIA	Ay, ay: O, lay me by my mistress' side.

GRATIANO	He's gone, but his wife's kill'd.

MONTANO	'Tis a notorious villain. Take you this weapon,
	Which I have here recover'd from the Moor:
	Come, guard the door without; let him not pass,
	But kill him rather. I'll after that same villain,
	For 'tis a damned slave.

	[Exeunt MONTANO and GRATIANO]

OTHELLO	I am not valiant neither,
	But ever puny whipster gets my sword:
	But why should honour outlive honesty?
	Let it go all.

EMILIA	What did thy song bode, lady?
	Hark, canst thou hear me? I will play the swan.
	And die in music.

	[Singing]

	Willow, willow, willow,--
	Moor, she was chaste; she loved thee, cruel Moor;
	So come my soul to bliss, as I speak true;
	So speaking as I think, I die, I die.

	[Dies]

OTHELLO	I have another weapon in this chamber;
	It is a sword of Spain, the ice-brook's temper:--
	O, here it is. Uncle, I must come forth.

GRATIANO	[Within]  If thou attempt it, it will cost thee dear:
	Thou hast no weapon, and perforce must suffer.

OTHELLO	Look in upon me then and speak with me,
	Or, naked as I am, I will assault thee.

	[Re-enter GRATIANO]

GRATIANO	What is the matter?

OTHELLO	Behold, I have a weapon;
	A better never did itself sustain
	Upon a soldier's thigh: I have seen the day,
	That, with this little arm and this good sword,
	I have made my way through more impediments
	Than twenty times your stop: but, O vain boast!
	Who can control his fate? 'tis not so now.
	Be not afraid, though you do see me weapon'd;
	Here is my journey's end, here is my butt,
	And very sea-mark of my utmost sail.
	Do you go back dismay'd? 'tis a lost fear;
	Man but a rush against Othello's breast,
	And he retires. Where should Othello go?
	Now, how dost thou look now? O ill-starr'd wench!
	Pale as thy smock! when we shall meet at compt,
	This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven,
	And fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my girl!
	Even like thy chastity. O cursed slave!
	Whip me, ye devils,
	From the possession of this heavenly sight!
	Blow me about in winds! roast me in sulphur!
	Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire!
	O Desdemona! Desdemona! dead!
	Oh! Oh! Oh!

	[Enter LODOVICO. MONTANO, CASSIO carried in a chair,
	and Officers with IAGO, prisoner]

LODOVICO	Where is this rash and most unfortunate man?

OTHELLO	That's he that was Othello: here I am.

LODOVICO	Where is that viper? bring the villain forth.

OTHELLO	I look down towards his feet; but that's a fable.
	If that thou best a devil, I cannot kill thee.

	[Wounds IAGO]

LODOVICO	Wrench his sword from him.

IAGO	I bleed, sir; but not kill'd.

OTHELLO	I am not sorry neither: I'ld have thee live;
	For, in my sense, 'tis happiness to die.

LODOVICO	O thou Othello, thou wert once so good,
	Fall'n in the practise of a damned slave,
	What shall be said to thee?

OTHELLO	Why, any thing:
	An honourable murderer, if you will;
	For nought I did in hate, but all in honour.

LODOVICO	This wretch hath part confess'd his villany:
	Did you and he consent in Cassio's death?

OTHELLO	Ay.

CASSIO	Dear general, I never gave you cause.

OTHELLO	I do believe it, and I ask your pardon.
	Will you, I pray, demand that demi-devil
	Why he hath thus ensnared my soul and body?

IAGO	Demand me nothing: what you know, you know:
	From this time forth I never will speak word.

LODOVICO	What, not to pray?

GRATIANO	                  Torments will ope your lips.

OTHELLO	Well, thou dost best.

LODOVICO	Sir, you shall understand what hath befall'n,
	Which, as I think, you know not. Here is a letter
	Found in the pocket of the slain Roderigo;
	And here another: the one of them imports
	The death of Cassio to be undertook
	By Roderigo.

OTHELLO	O villain!

CASSIO	Most heathenish and most gross!

LODOVICO	Now here's another discontented paper,
	Found in his pocket too; and this, it seems,
	Roderigo meant to have sent this damned villain;
	But that belike Iago in the interim
	Came in and satisfied him.

OTHELLO	O the pernicious caitiff!
	How came you, Cassio, by that handkerchief
	That was my wife's?

CASSIO	I found it in my chamber:
	And he himself confess'd but even now
	That there he dropp'd it for a special purpose
	Which wrought to his desire.

OTHELLO	O fool! fool! fool!

CASSIO	There is besides in Roderigo's letter,
	How he upbraids Iago, that he made him
	Brave me upon the watch; whereon it came
	That I was cast: and even but now he spake,
	After long seeming dead, Iago hurt him,
	Iago set him on.

LODOVICO	You must forsake this room, and go with us:
	Your power and your command is taken off,
	And Cassio rules in Cyprus. For this slave,
	If there be any cunning cruelty
	That can torment him much and hold him long,
	It shall be his. You shall close prisoner rest,
	Till that the nature of your fault be known
	To the Venetian state. Come, bring him away.

OTHELLO	Soft you; a word or two before you go.
	I have done the state some service, and they know't.
	No more of that. I pray you, in your letters,
	When you shall these unlucky deeds relate,
	Speak of me as I am; nothing extenuate,
	Nor set down aught in malice: then must you speak
	Of one that loved not wisely but too well;
	Of one not easily jealous, but being wrought
	Perplex'd in the extreme; of one whose hand,
	Like the base Indian, threw a pearl away
	Richer than all his tribe; of one whose subdued eyes,
	Albeit unused to the melting mood,
	Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees
	Their medicinal gum. Set you down this;
	And say besides, that in Aleppo once,
	Where a malignant and a turban'd Turk
	Beat a Venetian and traduced the state,
	I took by the throat the circumcised dog,
	And smote him, thus.

	[Stabs himself]

LODOVICO	O bloody period!

GRATIANO	                  All that's spoke is marr'd.

OTHELLO	I kiss'd thee ere I kill'd thee: no way but this;
	Killing myself, to die upon a kiss.

	[Falls on the bed, and dies]

CASSIO	This did I fear, but thought he had no weapon;
	For he was great of heart.

LODOVICO	[To IAGO]  O Spartan dog,
	More fell than anguish, hunger, or the sea!
	Look on the tragic loading of this bed;
	This is thy work: the object poisons sight;
	Let it be hid. Gratiano, keep the house,
	And seize upon the fortunes of the Moor,
	For they succeed on you. To you, lord governor,
	Remains the censure of this hellish villain;
	The time, the place, the torture: O, enforce it!
	Myself will straight aboard: and to the state
	This heavy act with heavy heart relate.

	[Exeunt]




	TIMON OF ATHENS



	DRAMATIS PERSONAE


TIMON	of Athens.


LUCIUS	|
	|
LUCULLUS	|  flattering lords.
	|
SEMPRONIUS	|


VENTIDIUS	one of Timon's false friends.

ALCIBIADES	an Athenian captain.

APEMANTUS	a churlish philosopher.

FLAVIUS	steward to Timon.

	Poet, Painter, Jeweller, and Merchant. (Poet:)
	(Painter:)
	(Jeweller:)
	(Merchant:)

	An old Athenian. (Old Athenian:)


FLAMINIUS	|
	|
LUCILIUS	|  servants to Timon.
	|
SERVILIUS	|


CAPHIS	|
	|
PHILOTUS	|
	|
TITUS	|
	|  servants to Timon's creditors.
LUCIUS	|
	|
HORTENSIUS	|
	|
And others	|


	A Page. (Page:)

	A Fool. (Fool:)

	Three Strangers.
	(First Stranger:)
	(Second Stranger:)
	(Third Stranger:)


PHRYNIA	|
	|  mistresses to Alcibiades.
TIMANDRA	|


	Cupid and Amazons in the mask. (Cupid:)

	Other Lords, Senators, Officers, Soldiers,
	Banditti, and Attendants.
	(First Lord:)
	(Second Lord:)
	(Third Lord:)
	(Fourth Lord:)
	(Senator:)
	(First Senator:)
	(Second Senator:)
	(Third Senator:)
	(Soldier:)
	(First Bandit:)
	(Second Bandit:)
	(Third Bandit:)
	(Messenger:)
	(Servant:)
	(First Servant:)
	(Second Servant:)
	(Third Servant:)
	(Varro's First Servant:)
	(Varro's Second Servant:)
	(Lucilius' Servant:)


SCENE	Athens, and the neighbouring woods.

    Source: geocities.com/user1951